Work Text:
May
Shannon's funeral was on Friday; by Sunday morning, Eddie's truck was filled with all of their stuff, and they were on their way back to Texas. Buck never had the pleasure of meeting Shannon; all he knew was that she left Eddie and Chris and never looked back. Buck didn't know why Eddie wanted to move back to Texas; all he ever had to say about the place was that his parents were too controlling; they babied Chris, and all they ever did was fight with Eddie, but he was going anyway.
Eddie had not been himself since she died; although they were not married anymore, she was his best friend, someone he had loved wholeheartedly since they met at the lake when they were 12, someone who gave him his beautiful son, a woman who let him do what he felt needed to be done, even if they did fight about it. Shannon did leave Eddie and Chris, but Eddie would never let anyone bash her name because he knew her, and Eddie would always love her.
Now Chris was without a mother, and he had a dad who was living in a haze, was barely eating or drinking, and found himself moving back to Texas near his overbearing grandparents because Eddie didn't know what to do. He did have Buck; he had his best friend in the whole wide world ready to step in and take care of both of them.
But now, they stood before each other, the Los Angeles heat making Bucks' hearts race. When Buck looked at Eddie, all he saw was love; he saw a future with puppies and kids, and he wanted that; he needed it. And yes, perhaps he should tell Eddie he loved him; he was moving to Texas to be with Eddie and Chris and that he would follow him wherever he wanted to go or needed to go.
Buck pulled Eddie in for a hug. He wrapped his arms around his chest and held him close, their heartbeats syncing as one. “I'll be here for you when you come back." If you come back, Buck whispered, “I know you will be, Buck,” he mumbled in his neck. Buck had offered to drive them to the airport, but Eddie declined. A part of Buck was grateful he said no because then saying goodbye would have made it so much harder.
“Catch you later, buddy,” he breathed, holding him close to his chest and kissing him on the head. “I’ll miss you, Buck,” Chris mumbled, burying his head into Buck next and holding onto Buck’s shirt with his fingers. “I'll miss you too, bud, don't worry. I'll see you soon enough.”
Eddie has been acting differently since she died; before he was happy, he had his wife back, his best friend. They were a family again, then it was all ripped away from him within minutes. Buck used to look at Eddie and know every single thing that was in his head; he knew how he felt by the way his eyes looked or the way he carried himself; he knew everything he stood for, every tiny thing he felt Buck knew when he looked at him. Now, all he could see was a shell of his best friend; he had dark bags and looked tired. Buck had never really lost anyone like this; he didn't know what Eddie was feeling or how to fix it.
And all he wanted to do was fix it, bring Shannon back by some miracle, or somehow take Eddie’s heart and fix it with tape, wrap it carefully in bubble wrap, and give it back to him. But he couldn’t, and it made his chest ache because Eddie was suffering.
He had been at the Diaz house since Friday; he drove Eddie home and picked up Christopher. They explained what happened to Shannon; they had to tell the sweetest boy that his mom was not coming home to him. That she left him again. They cried, and Buck held them both; all 3 of them cuddled up on the couch, Eddie leaning on Buck's shoulder and Chris laying on both their laps, hugging their stomachs and crying into them.
And now he was watching his family drive away with his heart packed in the bed of Eddie’s truck.
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June
It had been a month since Eddie and Chris left. A month of movie nights alone, a month of cooking one, and sleeping alone.
There were too many miles between them. Buck felt like he was losing his mind; he felt so alone. He had the rest of the 118 sure, but none of them could ever get him like Eddie did. The team asked too many questions, and Eddie just knew. When Buck would show up head hung low or red-rimmed eyes, he would just guide him inside, sit him down, and give him a beer. Tuck him into bed and stay with him till he sleeps.
They texted pretty much all day, every day when they could. Buck knew they would be fine, they would be okay, and they would come back home.
Eddie❤️🔥
Monday, 12:30
Just got back from therapy.
How did it go? You ok?
Yeah, I guess. It was fine; we just talked about Shannon.
Do you want to talk about it?
call me
Within two seconds, his phone was ringing. “Hey Buck,” he breathed. His voice was sweet, sticky like honey, and he was enthralled by it. “Hey Eds, listen, we don’t have to talk; we can just." Buck paused for a second, “Lay here, together." Eddie let out a sound on the other side of the phone like he had been holding his breath, and finally, finally, someone knew him.
“Can you talk? I like it when you talk.”
“Of course, whatever you need.”
Buck talked; he talked for two hours before they finally hung up, and when they did, Buck felt his heart get ripped in two again. Every second and every minute that went by without Eddie home, Buck could feel it get etched into his skin. It made him itch and want to skin himself and be someone new.
Someone who never knew Eddie Diaz never knew his chocolate eyes that have been kissed by the sun’s gentle embrace, making his gaze warm and safe.
Because knowing Eddie Diaz and loving him made it damn near impossible to feel normal.
He just wanted him home; he wanted to bury his head into Eddie’s neck and get ever so close. He wanted to smell him, run his fingers along the muscle of his biceps and his back, and kiss every place that he knew there'd been a bruise. There was something special about loving Eddie; there was something precious; it was like a prized jewel. Something you had to protect; travel with it carefully; be safe with it.
Eddie was like that bird you would find injured on the sidewalk when on a walk with your parents. You would sit on the cool concrete till your dad came back with a shoebox that had a towel placed on the bottom of it. Eddie was something you had to care for carefully, never moving too fast, always touching him with sweet, gentle hands. It was your mother’s voice saying, Be careful, baby; don’t move too fast. We don’t want to scare the little bird now, do we? So that’s what Buck did; he was careful, and with not too many words, he was always there. Show up at seven am to help get Chris to school, make pancakes, clean the kitchen, or do laundry.
Even if Eddie did protest, Buck stayed anyway. Even with the road stretched out between them, the too many miles separating the two men, Buck stayed anyway.
Buck called Eddie again to say goodnight to Chris, sharing some facts about more zoo animals and letting Chris’ laughter fill his ear. This was home; this was everything Buck had been searching for since he was a child, just like Chris.
“Time for bed, Bud. Say goodnight to Buck. You will talk to him tomorrow." Buck said goodnight to Chris, and Eddie got his phone back. "Hey,” it sounded like he was holding the phone between his shoulder and mouth, trying to balance that and whatever it was he was doing.
“Hi”
“You okay?” His voice was normal now; Buck missed him. His family was gone, and Buck felt compelled to pack his life into his Jeep and move to Texas and get an apartment in the same building, on the same floor. Find a new grocery store and new places to bring Chris. Because anything, anything at all was better than being alone in his loft with no Eddie.
"Yeah, I'm fine." Eddie let out a laugh; he knew that laugh was the I don’t believe you, I know you too well laugh. “I just miss you both,” he said in a low voice. “I know how you feel; I miss you too, Buck,” he murmured.
They got ready for bed together, brushing their teeth, getting changed, and laying in bed. Buck had his phone on speaker on the pillow beside his head. He wondered what Eddie was wearing to bed—was his apartment hot or cold? Was his bed as comfortable as his one at home? How did he sleep? Was it easy for him? It wasn't easy for Buck; knowing someone he loved was so far away from him, he could feel his heart trying to clutch onto anything, trying to keep it pumping because his lifeline was 800 miles away.
"Buck,” Eddie says. He could hear Eddie shifting in his bed, wondering how he lay.
“Yeah, Eds?” He whispered, Eddie was breathing, Buck could hear the gears turning in his head, and he was thinking of something to say. Me and Chris are coming home; he wanted to plead and beg him to come home. Eddie needed this, but Buck needed him too.
“I just,” Eddie paused for a minute. Come home. “It's hot here." Buck laughed; he hadn't laughed like that in a while because it was something reserved for Eddie, just Eddie.
“Is it too hot? That's your complaint?” Buck laughed, and Eddie groaned, “And it's really dry here; my skin feels like shit. It's bad, Buck. Really bad”
“Shannon always complained about it. The air—it's too dry here, Eddie; she would say, Our child will come out ashy. Chris gets his humour from her, you know? And when I see him, I see her, and it's like, How come she's gone and I'm still here? Why did she die in the middle of the day, in the streets, yet I get shot three times and I get to come home? I get to be with our son, and she doesn't. Why is that fair, Buck?”
“It's not fair, Eddie. I know it's sad, but you deserve to be here too. Chris needs you.” I need you, so come home, let me fix this.
Eddie sighed “What he needs is a dad who doesn't run away whenever things get hard, I what? His mom died, and I think it's a good idea to uproot his life? Move him 800 miles from his friends, from his Buck, from his life.” Buck wished Eddie was next to him so he could hug him, hold him close, and let him cry. “What he has is a dad who loves him, who cares about him, who would do anything for him. Eddie, you lost someone you loved. Someone who knows you can be sad; let yourself grieve,” he said.
“You know me, Buck.”
"Yes, Eddie, I do know you. And I'm never leaving.”
“Okay, good. I like you too much to lose you now.”
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July
It was the fourth of July when Eddie and his parents fought for what seemed like the 100th time since moving back to Texas.
“You guys will never fucking drop this, will you?” Eddie yelled, rubbing his hands over his face and leaning on the kitchen counter, “Do not talk to your mother like that! We just want what's best for Christopher.”
“I am what's best for him! Don't you guys get that? His mother is dead, Shannon is gone, but he has me. He has me, and I'm not about to fucking give him up to you guys, so what? You could feel better about fucking me up? It's not happening.”
“He should have two loving parents; he needs a support system. We have more than you can offer, Eddie.”
You're a failure; you're doing wrong by your son; leave him here. You aren't a good dad; you're going to fuck him up like you are. You left him alone; you left him. You're horrible, wrong; you're a bad person.
“Chris has two loving parents; I love him, and Shannon loves him. He has Buck; he has the entire 118; you guys will not rip him away from that. And you absolutely will not take away what has been the only place that has ever felt like home from either of us. So you better get this fucking thing about taking Christopher out of your head right, goddamn now, because so help me, God, if you bring it up again, I will make sure you never see Christopher ever fucking again.”
He should throw the will in their face, but he can't deal with that either. Eddie didn't stand around to hear what shit his parents had to say; he went out the front door, slamming it behind him and walking to wherever his feet would take him.
His hands were shaky, but he needed one thing: Buck would know what to do; he would fix it. He's good at that—fixing things. With shaky fingers, he pulled out his phone and called Buck, praying he wouldn't be on shift.
“Eddie! Hey, what's up?” Eddie let out a breath; his chest no longer felt tight anymore because Buck had picked up the phone. He always did.
“They want to take Chris away from me,” his voice was a whisper, trying to swallow back the tears he could feel forming in his eyes. “Am I really that bad of a dad?” Eddie could hear Buck say he would be right back to someone: "S-shit, I called you, and you're busy, right? Buck, I'm sorry, it's fine, you can call me. ”
“Eddie, no, you're important. You are what matters right now; talk to me." That sentence made Eddie break down; his chest hurt and he was heaving; he couldn't catch his breath; it felt like he was trying to grab nothing. “Eddie, Eddie, breathe, focus on my breaths, and do it with me; I'm here.”
“And for the record, you are a great dad, one I wish I had. You can't let them get you down, Eddie. I know they want to take Chris, but he is your son. You have loved him and have provided for him; you would give up literally anything for that kid.”
“But I left him.”
“You came back, didn't you? All he remembers is you coming home and being there for him. If they refuse to see how hard you fought, then—well, that's on them.”
“How come you can only see the good in me, Buck?” He blurted out; his heart was racing and his lungs felt rough. Buck never saw Eddie as anything but a good father, and a good friend. He was always there to pick Eddie back up and mend him back together.
“You're just you, Eddie; you're just good.” But I'm not, he thought; I'm not good. Why are you the only one who thinks that?
When I die, you get Chris. Because I can't see anyone else raising my son. No one would do it right; you would, though. You would love him the way I did; you would take care of him, pick him up when he falls, read him bedtime stories, let him be a kid, get hurt, and go out with friends.
“Thank you for being here, Buck.” I love you.
“Nowhere else I'd rather be." He could hear the smile in his voice; he could see the dimple and the way his eyes would light up. I love you, I love you, I love you.
They would hang up, and Buck would clutch his phone against his chest, wishing it was Eddie. It has felt like ten years since Eddie left; time was moving so slowly that half his heart had yet to come home. Buck missed him and craved his soul. We will be fine; we will be okay. Just come home.
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August
Eddie had been forced to go out to a bar; both his cousins and his son pushed him out the front door. Eddie was now sitting in his cousin Carlos’ truck, driving to some bar. He did not want to be there; he would rather be home with Chris watching a movie, but no—even his son got tired of him.
They pulled up outside The Roadhouse and found a booth in the corner of the bar. There was a band playing music in the corner. They had been there not even 2 minutes when the shots started rolling in. Eddie was sitting at the bar when a pretty 5'4 woman sat on the stool next to him and started gripping his bicep.
“Hey handsome,” she was drunk; you could smell the alcohol on her lips, long brunette hair with equally dark eyes. Eddie inched away slowly, “Um hi?” He was drunk too, but definitely not drunk enough to go home with her.
“What are you doing here all alone?” She purred, long red nails scratching along the muscles of his arm. "Ew, get off of me; you're not him. You don't smell as good, you don't look as good, and your hands are as kind as his.
“Waiting for someone, he said, taking another swing at the beer he had, rubbing the condensation with his thumb. “My boyfriend, actually so,” but she still was touching him. "Well, I'm sure I can take you both,” barf. By some miracle, that is Evan Buckley, and his phone started ringing.
Thank God, thank you. “Hey Cario,” he said, moving his face away from the girl. “Um hi? Are you at a bar? It's loud,” he asked.
"Yeah, just waiting for you,” she finally moved away, and Eddie finally breathed, “I'm sorry some girl wouldn't leave me alone.” His head hurt; he felt dizzy, but at least Buck was here, right? He was here.
“It's okay, baby.” Was it hot in the bar? Eddie stopped breathing; his collar got itchy and his thighs got sweaty; he was blushing; that was new. But he liked it; it made his heart race, and he got butterflies in his stomach; he hadn't felt like this since—well, Shannon.
“Chris forced me to go out tonight; if I had a choice, I wouldn't be here." Buck laughed over the phone. God, I've missed that. Will you still love me when I'm home?
I can't stop thinking about you; you won't get out of my mind. Don't worry though; I solemnly swear I'll never forget about you.
“I know, I told him you needed to get out of the house.” Of course, it was you. When aren't you taking care of me? “Ah, of course.”
"Yeah, well, all you've been doing is working, hanging out with Chris, and talking to me.” That's all I need. Then he heard a knock at Bucks's door: "Listen, I gotta go. Chims here will Jee. Drink some water and get to bed, baby. Bye!" All it took was a stupid nickname to get Eddie's head spinning and his legs all numb, baby, baby, baby.
Eddie stumbled into his apartment at three am, and Chris was at his sister's for a sleepover with his cousins. He carried himself to his bathroom and peeled off his clothes. Eddie smelled stale, like the bar; he stared at the shower and stood under the warm spray.
After moving, he found himself buying Bucks shampoo, conditioner, and even his body wash. Eddie smelled like him; he smelt sweet like roses and vanilla. He missed Buck; he wanted him in his bed, sleeping next to him, warming up the right side of the bed. Instead, it was just Eddie.
Buck🐕
Thursday, 1:30 am
Hey, text me when you get home.
Thursday, 3:45
Hj got home 45 minutes ago.
go to bed diaz
J wish yku were here, tho. I miss thst birthmark snd pretty smile.
I wish I was there too, Eddie.
goodnight.
goodnight bhck
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September
It had been so long since Buck slept decently. Four months since he found himself driving to Eddie's house, watching movies with Chris, and helping him with his homework. He slept so well on Eddie's couch, falling asleep soundly and not waking up once in the night. Some mornings he would wake up with a blanket on him, tucked in safely, knowing he didn't do it himself.
Eddie had another fight with his parents—surprise surprise—when Shannon's will had finally been read, the first person he called was Buck.
Eddie didn't know why it took so long; quite frankly, he didn't care. Shannon didn't have much, and he knew some money in savings that would go to Chris for school or medical care. Her apartment had already been released after she died, and her car would be sold because it was old.
For some reason, Eddie's parents decide to play a game called What would happen if Eddie died? Because yes, let's talk about that while my son just lost his mother, he thought. They started talking about painting Eddie's room for Chris when he would move in with them.
“You don’t get Chris,” Eddie said, his voice low. “I'm sorry. What was that, son?” Ramon asked.
“If something happens to me. You don't get Christopher.”
Helena spit out her tea, and her jaw dropped. “Excuse me? What do you mean we don't get Christopher? Shannon is dead, who would take care of him?”
“Buck gets him; he gets Chris, my assets, the house in LA. He and Chris get everything.”
They looked at Eddie dumbfounded, like he had kidnapped their kids or something. “You mean to tell us your co-worker gets your son?" Eddie nodded, rubbing the neck of his beer bottle. “He does because he is my son. I know what is best for him, and it certainly is not you.”
"Yeah, because leaving your son with a stranger is good parenting.”
“Buck knows him better than you; Buck actually lets him be a kid and doesn't coddle him like he's three years old. He lets him play video games, go outside, and go to the park even. You guys treat him like he's broken, like one wrong move and he will break." His voice started to get louder because he hated how they treated Chris. “Christopher is special, Eddie,” his mom insisted.
Eddie scoffed, “He's different; everyone is different. You guys treat him like he is this fragile little thing; he is smart and strong, and he doesn't need you guys there ready to catch him all the fucking time.”
Eddie excused himself from the table went outside and sat on the porch. His fingers on the autopilot dial Buck's number. It rang once—almost twice—and the call connected.
"Buck,” he breathed.
“Eddie? You okay?” Buck sounded concerned; Eddie could feel the creak of his uncomfortable couch, meaning he sat up.
“I need to tell you something.”
“Okay”
“If something happens to me, you—you, um, you will become Christopher's legal guardian,
“Eddie,” my sweet, beautiful Eddie.
“I know, its a lot to ask and-”
“No. It's not; of course, I'll take care of him if something were to ever happen.” I would be his legal guardian even if nothing happened—no terms and no conditions, just us three. We can be a family; I have finally found a home.
Buck broke the silence. “Eddie?” Eddie hummed, kicking a rock off the stairs. “I lo-” he was cut off by Chris yelling for his dad, telling him to come inside for ice cream. “What were you going to say?”
“N-nothing; it was nothing. Go eat your ice cream cowboy; talk to you later.”
Come visit us, he wanted to say; come eat ice cream too; cuddle on the couch with the little boy who loves the zoo just as much as you do; come to me.
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October
Buck was lying on his uncomfortable couch one evening; the TV was lighting up his face. He got a call, and when he answered, he could hear sniffling, “Chris?” It was almost childlike—the crying—it made Buck's chest ache; "N-no, it's me” that made Buck's heartbreak; “Eddie? What's wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I want to come home.” He sounded like a little boy, so much like Chris. He was sniffling; all Buck wanted to do was cradle his pretty face, look into his eyes, wipe each tear, and kiss his cheeks.
“I'll come get you, okay?” Buck got up, getting his keys and his jacket. “Buck no I-”
“I'll be there in 12 hours, maybe less. I won't stop; I'm coming to get you. Go pack your stuff, tell Chris, then go to bed. Send me your address.”
“O-okay”
Buck's heart was racing on the drive-over; he was happy; he was ecstatic. He was finally getting his boys back, and everything was going to fall back into place.
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When he got there, it was half past one. He knocked on Eddie's door, and he was met with a red-rimmed eye. Eddie, looked like he hadn't slept in days. He was wearing an LAFD shirt and black gym shorts. Buck didn't give him a chance to speak before he pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, his arms wrapped around his chest, and Eddie's hands went on his neck.
“You're here,” Eddie mumbled into his neck.
“I'm here, and I'm not leaving.”
Eddie's legs gave out under him, and Buck held him up, letting his best friend cry into his neck. He shushed him and rubbed his back, letting him cry it out. “You going to tell me what happened?” Buck asked, pulling back from Eddie and letting him go.
“I missed you, Buck; Chris missed you. Texas is miserable. This isn't home; home is with you. Home is us three in my house; it's you making pancakes every morning and watching movies and cooking dinner; it's going to the zoo every week.” He paused for a minute, letting his lungs inflate, running a hand over his face.
“Texas doesn't have Buck. No sweet laughter, no sweet hands or that birthmark, no pretty eyes. Yes, I have my family, but no one gets me like you do.”
Buck didn't know what to say; he thought he was dreaming. Surely this was a dream, right? Eddie wasn't telling him he loved him, telling him he also loved their little family.
Buck took hold of Eddie's face, his thumb wiping over where a tear fell. He locked eyes with him, hoping and praying that when he blinks, he won't disappear. Eddie beat Buck to it, and his lips met him, perfectly slotted together. It was sweet; Eddie tasted like a strawberry; it was mixed with the saltiness of his tears. Eddie cradled Buck's head, fingers taking hold of his strands, Buck's hands on his cheeks pulling him closer. Don't disappear on me; don't go like it felt like. This was perfect; this was what he wanted the rest of his life to feel like. Kissing Buck was like breathing again; it was air into his lungs. It was fresh; it was kind.
“Eddie I-” He choked on his words; his hands were shaking as he pulled away from him, his fingers rubbing his eyebrow. “I love you, Eddie.”
“I love you too, Buck,” he whispered, giving one last kiss to his birthmark.
“Now, let's go home.”
Eddie laughed and wiped his face, moving back so Buck could come inside.
Yes, Eddie thought. Let's go home; let's make a home together, me, you, and Chris. It'll be good; this is good; this is everything I have ever dreamed up. My love, my son. I feel you, Evan Buckley; I feel you when I breathe and when I walk. You're in my heart, in my muscles, in my veins. You've taken a place in my body, a place in my heart. I never want to be parted from you.
Please, God, please let me keep this one. Let me be happy; let my son not lose another parent. Please, please, please. "Baby, you coming?” Buck asked, his hand outstretched, waiting for Eddie to take ahold of it. “Yeah, I'm coming, love,” he smiled.