Archive of Our Own ^beta

The only thing Buck could hear was his heartbeat—loud, frantic, and drowning out the threat of the flames. Everything else faded out into a high-pitched whistle, the kind that came with too much heat and too little air. Adrenaline carried  away any lingering doubts. He couldn’t afford to think twice. Not now.

All around him was fire.

It wasn’t anything that required more than two firehouses, but the fire didn’t care about that. The flames had a mind of their own, licking at the walls and floor, hungrily consuming anything in their path. They beat on Buck on all sides, pushing and pulling him into the small home. 

He shouldn’t have been inside. He’d been told to help prep the hoses, but when he’d heard a mother calling out for her missing children, there was simply nothing else Buck could do. 

Now, his footsteps slowed, fully taking in the situation. There were two doors on either side of him. One led to a study, now a mess of burning books and collapsing shelves. The other room held a smoldering dining table that was moments away from being engulfed.

Neither room was what he was looking for.

Down the hall. Four steps this way, three steps that way. Watch that wall, the paint was peeling too quickly in the heat. 

He moved like it was muscle memory, a routine drilled into him by years of experience. Stay focused.

He was halfway through when he heard the first shout.

It was a raw sound, and Buck knew that he would hear that sound in his nightmares for days to come. It was coming from his left, down one of the narrower hallways. Buck’s pulse quickened. He barreled forward, shoving open doors, checking each room as fast as he could. Bedroom—empty. Closet—nothing.

Finally, he reached the last door. He shoved it open, the wood cracking under the pressure.

Inside he saw them—a teenage girl, her arm wrapped protectively around a little boy. They were huddled in the bathtub, wet towels pressed to their faces, trying to shield themselves from the smoke and heat. The girl’s eyes were wide with terror, and the boy’s breathing was shallow, each cough a struggle.

For a moment, Buck froze. The image slammed into him with a force he hadn’t expected. Maddie, hovering over a younger version of himself, worried eyes and quick hands trying to shield him from the chaos of their childhood home. It was all he could see.

“Please!” the girl’s voice broke through his trance. “He’s not breathing right. You have to help him!”

Buck dropped to his knees beside the boy—God, he must’ve been only seven. 

“Hey buddy,” he said, making quick work of pressing an oxygen mask to the little boy’s face. “There you go, just take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Buck hefted him up in his arms in one swift move. The added weight pulled at his already exhausted muscles, but Buck ignored it. He turned to the girl. “Are you able to walk?” he asked, nearly having to yell over the roar of the nearby flames. She nodded. “Stay close to me.”

He kept moving, pushing through the thickening smoke. The girl was right on his heels, clutching the back of his jacket like her life depended on it—because it did.

The heat grew unbearable as they rushed out of the bathroom. His air tank was almost empty now, the gauge dangerously low. Walls cracked, beams groaned overhead, and the house threatened to collapse in on itself. Buck pushed through it all, carrying the boy while making sure he could still hear the girl’s footsteps pounding behind him.

The front door was finally within sight, the promise of fresh air just beyond it. With each step, Buck’s lungs burned.

“Almost there,” he gritted through his teeth. He tightened his hold on the boy, careful not to jostle him, and forced his legs to move faster. When he broke through the smoke-filled doorway, the paramedics were already waiting on the lawn.

“Over here!” Buck shouted, passing the boy into Hen’s waiting arm. “He’s coughing, lots of smoke inhalation. The girl, too, but she’s more stable.”

His words felt distant, too far away. He looked around the scene, trying to find what else he could do with the adrenaline still making him feel like he was invincible. But there, standing beside an ambulance, looking at Buck with a dazed kind of fear on his face, was Eddie.

“Buck, go get checked out,” Bobby ordered, his hand coming down on Buck’s shoulder. He left no room for argument. “Now.”

Buck nodded, too tired to argue, and let himself be led toward a waiting paramedic from the 136. He glanced back at Eddie, but he was already walking the other direction, jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the ground.

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

The smell of smoke still clung to Buck’s skin as he ripped off his helmet and threw it onto its shelf, the metallic clang echoing much louder than he expected it to in the firehouse garage.

His breathing was still ragged from the adrenaline rush of the rescue, his heart racing in his chest. He should feel good, he’d saved those kids, pulled them out just in time. But it just didn’t feel right, and he didn’t know why.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was back there?” Eddie’s voice cut like a knife through the air as he stormed up behind Buck. 

Okay, maybe he did know why.

Buck stiffened. He didn’t turn, just stared at the rig, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. He could feel the heat of Eddie’s fury without even looking.

“I don’t need this right now, Eddie.”

“Too bad,” Eddie snapped, his footsteps heavy as he approached. 

Buck turned slowly, his eyes narrowed. Eddie was right there, fists clenched at his sides, jaw set, but there was something else there, too—fear, lingering just behind the anger. “I did my job,” Buck bit out, his voice tight.

“Your job?” Eddie’s voice rose, incredulous. “Buck, you ran into a burning building, alone , without telling anyone. You didn’t wait for us, you didn’t even stop to assess the situation. That isn’t ‘doing your job,’ Buck, that’s reckless!”

Buck’s frustration boiled over. “I saved them, didn’t I? That’s the point, right? We’re supposed to save people.”

“And what happens when you don’t?” Eddie fired back, stepping closer. “What happens when you get yourself killed trying to play the hero? You think it’s just you out there? What about the rest of us, Buck?”

“I made it out, Eddie, you made it out. Everybody made it out.” Buck’s voice began to rise, hands clenching, words biting. “Why do you care about it so much?”

“Because you don’t think!” Eddie shouted, the words exploding out of him. “You run into danger like you’ve got nothing to lose,” his voice broke, and Buck was able to see all the hurt, the pain, the fear, in his eyes. “You never stop to consider the consequences—what it does to the people around you.”

“And what?” Buck stepped forward, unable to stop the words that kept running out of his mouth. “You’re the only one allowed to take risks? How many times have you pulled some crazy stunt on a call, huh? You want to talk about consequences, Eddie? Look in the mirror.”

“This isn’t about me—” Eddie started, but Buck cut him off.

“It’s always about you!” Buck shouted. “You act like you have to be in control all the time. You don’t get to decide how I do my job!”

“I’m not trying to control you, Buck,” Eddie spoke, softer this time. The frustration, the anger, it was all giving way to something much more raw. “I’m trying to keep you alive .”

The words hung in the air between them. Buck’s chest heaved, his breathing ragged, but Eddie didn’t back down, didn’t avert his gaze. He was still right there, eyes blazing with a flicker of something Buck didn’t want to acknowledge.

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Buck said, his voice low, but the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.

Eddie’s face twisted, a mixture of irritation and hurt flashing across his features. “Yeah? Well, maybe I don’t need you making me feel like I’m going to lose you every time we go on a damn call.” 

That hit harder than Buck expected, and, for a moment, his anger faltered. “Eddie—”

“No, you don’t get it, do you?” Eddie’s voice was quieter, but the emotion was amplified ten fold, bubbling up and over. “You think you’re invincible, Buck, but you’re not. And one day… one day, you’re going to push too far, and I’m going to be the one standing there, watching them pull your body out of some debris.”

Buck swallowed, hard. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words were stuck in his throat. Eddie was breathing hard now, his eyes locked on Buck’s. The fear that lay in them— real, bone-deep fear—made his breath hitch.

“I can’t… I can’t keep doing this,” Eddie said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t keep watching you throw yourself into danger like it doesn’t matter.”

Buck was off balance, and suddenly, his own anger seemed pointless, small compared to the storm brewing inside Eddie. But Buck didn’t know how to deal with that, how to respond to the way Eddie was looking at him.

“So what?” Buck asked, voice harboring the last of its sharpness. “You want me to just sit back and do nothing? That’s not who I am.”

“I’m not asking you to be someone else,” Eddie said, desperation taking over his voice, tight around the edges. “I’m asking you to stop making me feel like you’re not coming back.”

Buck had never seen Eddie like this before; terrified, pleading, his words cutting through Buck like fire.

“I can’t promise that,” Buck finally said, nothing more than a whisper. “This job… you know how it is.”

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his eyes dropping to the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

For just a moment, Eddie’s eyes flickered back up to meet Buck’s, and in that small moment, there was something else in his gaze. Buck couldn’t name it if there was a gun to his head, but he felt it in his chest like a fifty-pound weight.

Buck stood there, frozen, as Eddie turned on his heel and walked away, his boots echoing through the garage and into Buck’s bones. Every last ounce of his anger drained from his body, pooling at his feet until he felt nothing but the hollow ache of something breaking inside him. 

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

Buck hadn’t planned on going straight home after his shift. Hell, he hadn’t planned on any of it. 

He could still feel the tension crackling in his chest as he slammed the car door shut, Eddie’s words replaying in his head, sharp and raw.

By the time he was pushing the door to the loft open, the adrenaline from the argument had faded, leaving everything else behind. It ached in his chest, heavy and cold and so goddamned painful .

He knew why. He was angry. Frustrated. It felt like Eddie was always on his back, telling him what to do, where to go, how to do his job. But now, sitting in the silence of his apartment, it didn’t feel like Eddie was the problem.

It felt like Buck had just thrown gasoline on something fragile, and Eddie had dropped the match.

The walls felt like they were closing in around him as he kicked off his boots. Normally, he’d send Eddie a quick text, something dumb like, made it home. you good? It was a habit that had become second nature. But not tonight. Tonight, there was nothing but that torturous, cold silence.

Buck wandered to the fridge, but he wasn’t hungry. He grabbed a beer and made his way to his couchless living room. The TV screen flicked on, but he didn’t even glance at the screen.

This wasn’t where he was supposed to be. 

He was supposed to be at Eddie’s.

He was supposed to be sitting on Eddie’s old couch, trading quiet jokes while Christopher did his homework at the table. Or he’d be on the floor with Chris, snapping legos together while laughing at some old movie. 

But instead, Buck was alone. 

He was alone, and the apartment was so damn quiet.

It was weird, missing something that wasn’t even his. Eddie and Chris had their own lives, their own routines and Buck had just… slipped into them somehow. It had felt right at the time, easy. But now it was gone, ripped away.

Buck’s phone buzzed in his pocket, dragging him out of his thoughts. He pulled it out, hoping, even though he knew better.

But it wasn’t Eddie. Just a group text from Chimney and Hen.

He let out a long sigh, throwing his head against the back of the chair. He missed the way Eddie looked at him like he was something worth holding onto. All Buck could feel was the distance between them, widening with every moment of silence.

He didn’t know how to close that distance. Not this time.

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

Buck walked into the station a day and a half later, almost an hour early for his shift. Coming in early gave him time to think over what Eddie said (as if he hadn’t been doing that all during his time off), and to fully prepare a response. 

Eddie would walk in, and they’d talk. Buck would apologize, and so would Eddie, and everything would be okay again. 

The sound of footsteps made him turn. 

And there Eddie was. 

And then he wasn’t.

He didn’t even look at Buck. Not a glance, or small nod, or that smile Buck was missing like a plant on a cloudy day. Eddie walked straight past him, expression set in stone.

The knot in Buck’s stomach tightened.

He tried not to let Eddie’s cold shoulder sting, but he’d been ready to talk, to apologize, to fix it. But now? Now, Eddie wasn’t even giving him a chance.

Well, if that’s how it’s going to be…

Buck let his work consume him. 

Every time he caught a glimpse of Eddie moving around the station, every time he thought about trying to talk to him again, Buck just kept himself moving. He hadn’t slowed down since the start of the shift—barely pausing between calls. Everyone had their routines, and Buck? He was used to pushing through. It was what he was good at.

But right now, he wasn’t just pushing through. He was running.

He’d already cleaned most of the rig by himself. Normally, he and Eddie would split the task, but Buck had scrubbed it down from top to bottom like it was some kind of means of survival. When Bobby asked him to check the supplies, Buck had done that too—double and triple checking, organizing everything with laser focus.

When the next call came in, Buck was out of the station in a flash, already halfway to the engine by the time the alarm finished sounding. It was routine—a small kitchen fire in a neighborhood not too far out. Nothing dangerous. But Buck treated it like it was the biggest fire he’d ever faced, throwing himself into every detail, every task, even when it wasn’t his job.

He pulled hose, cleared the area, and helped Hen with the family. Eddie was there, too, working alongside him like normal, but it was different now. Every time Buck glanced his way, Eddie was focused on the fire, on the work, not on him. They didn’t exchange a word. Didn’t even make eye contact. 

That silence hit harder than any amount of smoke or heat ever could.

The call wrapped up quickly, the fire under control within minutes. Buck was already diving into the next task by the time they reached the station, focusing on the ambulance this time.

“You’re going at it pretty hard today,” Hen said, her voice cutting through the hum of the station. She was watching him from beside the ambulance, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. “What’s up with you two?” 

“It’s… nothing.” Buck turned back towards the ambulance, lifting the rag he was using to clean the shiny surface. 

Hen tutted, knocking her shoulder into Buck’s.

“Seriously, it’s nothing,” Buck said, sighing. He spared a glance toward Hen, who now had one eyebrow raised and a question in her eyes. He forced a smile. “Just trying to stay busy.”

“So you’re telling me, Buckaroo,” Hen began, leaning on the ambulance, “that what we all heard last shift was ‘ nothing ’?”

Buck let out a groan, banging his head lightly against the ambulance. “You heard all that?”

Hen nodded. “Almost every word.”

“It’s just…” Buck began, turning his head to look at Hen, “he acts like everything he does is the right way . Sure, I may have done some stupid stunts once or twice—” Hen gave him that look, but Buck just waved her away “—but that’s what I always do! I saved those kids the other day, and nobody got hurt.” He sighed again, his gaze wandering and catching on Eddie in the locker room, shuffling through something in his bag. “I didn’t think it would turn into this. He’s not just mad, Hen. He’s done.”

Hen raised an eyebrow, a look that said she wasn’t buying a second of it. “Eddie’s not done, Buck. He’s pissed. Hurt, maybe. But he’s not done.”

Buck nodded, and he could tell that Hen knew he didn’t believe her. “I don’t think anything I could say would be enough, Hen.”

She was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Buck, Eddie cares about you. More than you probably realize.” She set a comforting hand on Buck’s arm, stalling his rapid cleaning. “But you scared him. And when Eddie gets scared, he pulls away. He’s just trying to protect himself right now.”

Buck let out a shaky breath.

“You can’t force it, Buckaroo. Give him time. Be there when he’s ready.” Hen gave him that kind smile that seemed to spark that little hopeful flame in his chest. “That’s what matters.”

Buck nodded, but his heart still felt so heavy. He wanted to fix everything, to go back to how things were just a few days ago. But as much as he hated to admit it, Hen was right—this wasn’t something he could rush.

All he could do now was wait.

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

Ever since he was a child, Buck would go to Maddie for help. When he got hurt, when he was happy, whenever he was feeling too much of anything, Maddie was there for him.

She was settled in the armchair across from him now, her eyes filled with concern. They had planned on having dinner at her house, but things had quickly devolved when Maddie took in Buck’s current state.

“It’s Eddie,” he explained. “We had this huge fight, and now… now it’s like there’s this gap between us.”

Maddie leaned forward slightly. “What was the fight about?”

“It was over a stupid call.” Buck refused to meet her eyes. “I did something reckless, and Eddie got mad. I get why he was upset, but… I just didn’t expect it to blow up like this. We’ve been avoiding each other ever since.”

Maddie listened. She always listened, and Buck was ever grateful for her.

“I miss him, Maddie.” He knew he was fidgeting, pulling at his shirt and rubbing his fingers together, trying to keep himself in the moment. “I miss how it was. I keep trying to distract myself, but nothing works.”

“Sometimes the best way to bridge a gap is to be honest.” Maddie reached out, placing a comforting hand on his. “You don’t have to have all the answers or fix everything all at once. Just let Eddie know you’re there and that you want to work things out together.”

Buck nodded slowly. He took a deep breath, taking her words and tucking them inside that chasm in his chest right beside his heart.

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

Eddie’s silence was like a physical thing, a barrier that stood between them. Everytime he averted his gaze, or didn’t return Buck’s quiet “hey,” the distance grew. 

They were in the same room, but miles apart.

For a few days, Buck had been hoping for a sign, something to show that Eddie might be ready to try again. But it never came. And now, surrounded by the stale sounds of the station, Buck felt… stuck. Time was dragging on, pulling him deeper into a place where everything was out of sync.

A clang sounded from across the bay, followed by a low murmur of voices. Eddie and Chimney were talking about something, and Buck didn’t even try to listen in. It was easier to keep his head down, to focus on the wrench in his hand and the ladder in front of him.

Time. All he needed was time.

He’d told himself that so often, but it never made the ache go away. 

There was a part of him—small, almost ignorable—that knew something was building, that the longer this dragged on, the worse it would get.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that the effects of their withdrawal were affecting Eddie as well. Whenever he came in for a shift, Eddie was already tired and irritable. Buck didn’t like the thought that his absence was hurting Eddie, but a small part of him thought of it as a tiny ‘Fuck you.’

Buck shoved the thought down, buried it beneath the layers of routine. He wasn’t about to break. Not yet.

Then that familiar shrill alarm cut through the station, sharp and bitter. Buck’s heart lurched in his chest, and he moved quickly, tossing the tools aside and grabbing his gear.

Another call. Another chance to forget everything.

But as he pulled on his helmet and tightened the straps of his turnout coat, something stirred in the back of his mind. A flicker of unease, as Bobby filled them in on the situation. 

It was a lab fire, and something had gone horribly wrong with the construction when they tried to add a section to the building.

The moment the truck pulled up to the scene, Buck’s stomach lurched. The lab was already engulfed in flames, thick black smoke billowing into the night sky like an ominous warning. The orange glow illuminated the rows of windows, flickering wildly. Sirens wailed as they were joined by a few other stations, the situation ticking up to a three-alarm fire. 

“We’ve got reports of employees still unaccounted for,” Bobby said as they filed out of the engine. “Buckley, Diaz. I want you two in there helping with the rescue. Hen, Chim, find the incident commander. See where you’re needed.”

“Yes, Cap,” they all echoed.

Buck was tugging at his turnout again, making sure everything was in place. Eddie was quiet beside him, his usual calm demeanor unshaken by the enormity of the task ahead. 

They grabbed their gear and moved to the entrance, where a group of firefighters from other stations had begun to gather. 

One of them was shouting orders.

“The one-thirty-six will take the north wing, two-seventeen and one-ten will take the west wing, and the one-eighteen will take the east wing.”

There was no time for questions, or more demands. They needed to make quick work of this.

The heat hit them as soon as they crossed the threshold, waves of it radiating from every direction. It seemed that the fire was mostly on the upper floors, but that didn’t mean that it was very safe for them down here. The air tasted sharp, the smoke making Buck’s throat burn even through his mask. He forced the feeling down, pushing forward into the maze of hallways that stretched out before them.

“Stay close,” Eddie said, voice clipped through the mask. 

Buck just nodded. 

The first two passes through their wing were intense but manageable. The first time through, they found a group of workers huddled in a breakroom and managed to lead them out with minimal complications. The second time, they had to stop briefly to help two women, one of which had a nasty burn that spread across her abdomen.

By the time they went back in for the third time, the fire had been upgraded to a four-alarm. It had grown angrier, roaring through the hallways with a vengeance. The flames had spread past most of the upper levels, and was beginning to eat its way through the ceilings.

“Eddie!” Buck called, barely able to see through the smoke. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m with you,” Eddie’s voice came from just behind him, steady as ever.

That should’ve reassured Buck, but there was something electric in the air, something that had his pulse racing faster than usual. They pushed through, checking the remaining offices and rooms, but the building seemed empty now. Just when Buck could tell Eddie was about to turn back around, he spotted a set of doors just a little further down the hall, hidden around a corner.

“There’s some doors we didn’t get to check down here.”

Eddie didn’t argue. 

They moved quickly, shoving through a pair of heavy double doors into what looked like a storage room. The first thing that registered in Buck’s mind was the smell—a pungent, stinging stench that burned.

Buck’s stomach dropped.

The room was lined with shelves and storage racks, most of them stacked high with containers, each marked with labels that were printed in a loud, screaming font.

ETHANOL. ISOPROPYL NITRATE. ACETONE PEROXIDE.

Flammable, explosive, volatile chemicals in every direction. And they were in the center of it all.

“Shit,” Buck muttered, his breath catching as the reality of the situation hit him. 

“Cap,” Eddie called into his radio. “I thought you said there weren’t supposed to be any flammables in the labs because of the construction.”

Deafening silence filled the room around them as they waited for Bobby’s response. “What part of the building are you in?”

Eddie was about to respond, but Buck stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

Something was… wrong. 

The temperature in the room had ticked up a degree too high, and the ceiling suddenly seemed much too quiet. Buck turned toward the door, alarm bells ringing in his head. He pulled Eddie with him. “Eddie, we gotta—”

A crash echoed through the building. By pure instinct, Buck whipped around, just in time to shield himself, and Eddie, from the worst of the debris. 

Flames, bright and hot, were falling from the ceiling. The air was gone from Buck’s lungs as he stared back at the doors they’d come through. The ceiling was caved in on top, effectively sealing Buck and Eddie in.

Buck’s fingers trembled as he reached for his radio. “Cap, we’ve got a problem.” Even his voice was shaky. Why couldn’t he be more like Eddie? All calm demeanor and steady hands.

“Buck,” Bobby’s voice crackled through, calm but urgent. “You both need to get out of there now . We’re pulling everyone back.”

“No-can-do, Cap,” Eddie said into his own radio, his voice unnervingly steady. “We’re in a storage room on the far east wing. The ceiling’s come down on our exit.”

There was a pause on the other end of the radio, a pause that made Buck’s heart stutter. 

“We’ll try to reach you from out here. Try to find another exit inside. Do whatever you have to do, but get out of there.”

Buck exchanged a look with Eddie. They were surrounded by volatile chemicals, fire crawling closer, and the one exit they had was buried under a mountain of debris.

“There might be another door in the back,” Eddie said, though Buck could hear the slight waver in his voice.

Buck nodded, his hands still shaking as he scanned the room. The fire was closing in fast, cascading like a waterfall from the ceiling. They had minutes—if that—before the fire reached the racks of chemicals.

They moved toward the other side of the room, dodging falling debris. But as soon as they reached the far wall, their worst fear was confirmed. When the ceiling had fallen on the other side of the room, a portion of it had fallen in the back too, a wild mess of crushed beams that were twisted and warped from the heat.

There was no way out.

Buck’s heart pounded in his ears. His turnout gear felt too heavy, and any regulation he had over his breathing vanished.

They weren’t going to get out. They’d run out of air and suffocate, or the rest of the ceiling would collapse, or the chemicals would be set ablaze. His mind raced, scrambling for a solution, but there was nothing. They were stuck, with no way out and no way to call for backup.

He couldn’t die like this. Not here, not now. Not without—

Eddie stepped closer, pulling Buck’s attention back to the moment. His voice was low, barely audible over the roar of the fire. “Buck, listen to me. We’re not done yet.”

Buck shook his head, panic rising in his throat. “Eddie, I—I’m sorry. I should’ve listened. I should’ve—”

Eddie’s hand gripped his shoulder, finding that familiar dip in his collarbone, steadying him, grounding him. “No. Don’t do that now. This isn’t your fault. We’re in this together, and we’ll figure it out together.”

Buck’s chest tightened. He didn’t deserve that kind of grace, not after everything he put Eddie through. But somehow, Eddie wasn’t letting him go, wasn’t letting him drown in guilt.

“I don’t know what to do, Eddie,” Buck admitted. He could hardly hear himself, but he trusted that Eddie would listen. “I can’t—”

“Buck,” Eddie’s voice broke, a crack in his armor. “You’re always trying to carry everything on your own.” Eddie’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the flames and chemicals and burning building faded into the background. 

It was just the two of them, standing in the wreckage, facing the truth they’d both been running from.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” Eddie said quietly. “You’ve never had to.”

Buck swallowed hard, the weight of everything sinking in. For the first time in days, he felt the tightness in his chest start to loosen. There was still fear—fear that they might not make it out of this room alive—but there was also something else there.

Hope.

Before Buck could respond, a loud crack echoed from above, and the ceiling gave way, flames pouring down like an avalanche. 

Eddie shouted, pulling Buck toward the remaining corner that wasn’t yet consumed by fire.

But as they moved, another explosion shook the building, the fire finally catching up to the chemicals. Buck stumbled, nearly losing his footing as the walls trembled around them.

This was it.

“Buck, look at me,” Eddie said, firmly. He was solid and strong in front of him, pulling Buck closer. “We’re getting out of here.”

And Buck believed him. 

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

When the east wing collapsed, Bobby felt it in his bones.

It was a visceral punch that left him frozen for a moment longer than he could afford. His eyes widened as he saw the roof cave in, smoke and flames billowing upward.

The radio in his hand crackled.

His heart dropped.

“Buck. Eddie.” The names fell from his lips before he could stop them, a hoarse whisper of dread as the fire consumed the building. His hand tightened around the radio as he scanned the scene. 

But as the smoke thickened in the night air, a knot of fear twisted in his chest. This wasn’t just another fire. This was the worst kind—unpredictable, volatile, and far beyond their control. The chemicals had made sure of that. One wrong move, one spark in the wrong place, and it could all go up in seconds.

And now, it had. 

His fingers fumbled for the radio. “Buck, Eddie. Do you copy?”

Static. 

Bobby’s breath caught. He tried again, his voice ringing out over the chaos. “Buck! Eddie! Answer me!”

Still nothing.

The silence that followed was worse than any explosion, worse than any fire he’d ever seen. It was the silence of uncertainty, of fear, of the possibility that his two firefighters—his family—were gone.

The rest of the teams were still working, scrambling to control the fire and pull survivors from the wreckage, but Bobby’s focus was laser-sharp on the east wing. 

“Cap.” Hen’s voice rang through, breathless and urgent over the radio. “We’re trying to get a team around to the east side, but it’s not looking good. The collapse took out most of the access points.”

Bobby cursed under his breath. There wouldn’t be much left to save if they didn’t move fast.

“How bad is it?” Bobby asked. He knew the answer, but he needed confirmation. 

Hen hesitated before responding. “Bad. We could have more explosions any minute.”

Bobby squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the panic that threatened to claw its way to the surface. He glanced back toward the wreckage, mind racing as he pieced together a plan.

“Okay,” he said, voice and hands steadier on the radio. “I want you and whoever else you have with you to take the north entrance. See if you can find another way in. If you get anything, you call it in immediately.”

“Copy that, Cap.”

Bobby’s chest tightened as he moved toward the command post, keeping a watchful eye on the east wing as it continued to burn. Every second felt like an hour. 

Buck, dead on his feet after the tsunami. Eddie, beneath thirty feet of wet mud. Buck, hanging lifeless from the ladder. Eddie, crumpling to the ground with a bullet in his shoulder. Both of them had come so close to death. But they always pulled through.

Always, Bobby had to remind himself.

But this—this felt different.

The fire was ruthless, the chemicals an unpredictable and deadly variable. And Buck and Eddie were in the middle of it all.

Someone came up behind him, calling out, “Captain!”

Bobby turned, finding himself face to face with the incident commander. For a moment, Bobby thought she would tell him off for sending more people into the building just to search for his guys. Instead, she laid a hand on his arm.

“There’s a service entrance near the east wing. Some of my men spotted it while taking the perimeter.” She gave him a small, grim smile, shaking her head. “It’s small, but possible.”

Bobby’s back straightened.

“Show me.”

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

As soon as the dust and debris settled, Buck scrambled to get his helmet and mask off. There was no use in them now, all they were doing was weighing him down.

Everything felt too quiet. The roar of the fire had receded, but the heat was still there, clinging to him until every breath scraped against his lungs.

When the ceiling had come down, Buck was too busy looking at Eddie to worry about it. But now, they were surrounded on all sides by concrete walls, and the only thing preventing them from being crushed was one of the empty metal racks holding up a large slab of concrete.

And Eddie—Eddie was too still. 

It was too dark to properly see him, but Buck could feel him. Buck had tried shaking him, calling his name, but he got no response. He could still feel Eddie’s shallow breaths, the faintest rise and fall of his chest, but it wasn’t enough. 

He couldn’t lose him.

Not Eddie. Not now. 

Buck swallowed hard, forcing back the wave of fear that threatened to drown him. His mind kept going back to that night—that awful night in the garage when Eddie had walked away, and Buck had just let him go. He had watched Eddie turn his back, watched him walk out, and done nothing. They hadn’t properly spoken since.

And now Eddie was the one who might not make it.

Oh, the irony of it all.

Buck pressed his palm against Eddie’s chest, feeling the faint thrum of his heartbeat beneath his gloved hand. They were both sprawled out on the ground. There might’ve been enough space to sit up, but Buck didn’t even try; he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself up.

“Eddie…” Buck’s voice was raw, barely a whisper. “Please… Don’t do this.”

Eddie had Christopher. Chris, who had already gone through too much. Chris, who had so much life left in him. Christopher, who was waiting for his dad to come home. 

Buck tried to focus, to think of a way out, but his mind kept drifting back to Eddie.

“You can have my back any day.”

“There’s no one I trust with my son more than you.”

“Because, Evan , you came in here the other day and you said you thought it would have been better if it had been you who was shot. You act like you’re expendable. But you’re wrong.”

Buck thought back to their last conversation. The way Eddie had looked at him—hurt, disappointed, but still so goddamn worried. 

It had been like a punch to the gut, seeing that look in Eddie’s eyes, knowing that he was the one to cause it. He had been so angry, so frustrated that Eddie hadn’t understood why he’d gone into the fire, why he had to save those kids. He had thought Eddie was wrong, that he didn’t get it, but now?

Now, as he sat there, every part of his body aching against the hard floor, Eddie limp beside him, it didn’t matter .

All that mattered was that Eddie was still breathing, still alive, and Buck needed to keep it that way.

“Come on, Eddie,” Buck muttered, his voice shaking. “You’re stronger than this. You’ve survived worse.”

Buck looked around their little pocket of debris, though it was difficult to see clearly through the smoke and dust. Panic welled up in his chest, and he could feel the edges of what little control he had left slipping. 

His radio was broken, Eddie was barely breathing, they were trapped.

He shifted closer to Eddie, his hands shaking as he cradled his head in his hands. Slowly, he took off Eddie’s helmet and mask, brushing the soot and dust from his face. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Sorry for their fight.

Sorry that it would be their last conversation.

Sorry for everything. 

Buck thought he was crying, but he couldn’t tell anymore. It was too dark, and his ears were ringing, and the walls were closing in. 

But then—footsteps?

Buck must’ve lost his mind, because he heard footsteps . And a loud rumbling, scraping sound to accompany it. With his hands still clasped tightly onto Eddie’s almost-still body, Buck pushed himself up. He still couldn’t see clearly, but he thought, for just a moment, there’d been a light. 

But, yes! There it was again—a bright beam of white light that pierced the little pocket of rubble.

“Here!” he tried to yell, but the word was hoarse in his throat, ripping out with a painful tug. Buck didn’t notice the pain, not when the pounding of footsteps was closer now.

“Buck!” somebody called, their voice ringing in Buck’s ears like a symphony. 

With the newfound light, Buck was able to reach his hand out through a small gap in the debris, waving it around until he heard a gasp.

“Buck, I’ve got you.”

Buck’s whole body sagged with relief, his breath catching in his chest. “Bobby,” he sobbed, unable to do much of anything else.

“We’re getting you out of there, Buck,” Bobby said. He began to dig away at the first layers of concrete, lifting the smaller pieces and throwing them to the side. “Is Eddie in there with you?”

“Yes.” Buck was barely able to get the word out. “He’s—Bobby, he’s not waking up.”

Even through their little makeshift wall of concrete, Buck could hear something twist in Bobby’s throat. Suddenly, his digging and pulling away at the debris was much quicker, a desperation that Buck echoed back at him.

It was a few minutes before Buck could fully see Bobby, and a few more until the cleared area was just barely big enough for them to crawl through. Bobby passed a neck brace through, and Buck’s hands shook as he wrapped it around Eddie’s neck.

“I don’t want to risk moving him out without a backboard.” Bobby tried to assess Eddie from outside the rubble, but Buck knew that he couldn’t see well inside. “Hen is a few minutes out. Do you think you can wait?”

Buck cleared his throat and nodded. All he wanted was to get out, but he could wait a little longer, if it meant keeping Eddie safe. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he heard Hen on the other side of the concrete.

“Bobby!” She was rushing forward, Chimney and a few others on her heels. “Where are they?”

“In here,” Buck called out, stretching to poke his head out of the little gap. When he saw the backboard in their hands, he nearly cried out in relief.

Buck knew that he was most likely in shock, so the next few moments came and went in waves. He remembered strapping Eddie to the board with shaking hands, pressing his palms to his chest again just to make sure he was still alive. He remembered climbing out right after Eddie was through, falling to his knees on the ground next to him. He remembered Chimney trying to pull him away to check him over, but his body wouldn’t move.

“Buck,” Bobby said, voice soft in his ear as his hand landed on Buck’s shoulder. “You have to let Hen and Chim do their job.”

Buck realized that he was still clutching onto Eddie, his fists balled tight in the fabric of his turnout gear. Instinctively, his fingers tightened, knuckles turning white. He knew that they had to get out sooner rather than later, even though the fire had been pushed away from this section of the building. But the thought of letting go—of loosening his grip for even just a second—terrified him.

“I can’t—” Buck’s voice broke. If he let go of Eddie, he was sure that he would float away, lost to the world without an anchor. “He—I can’t—”

“Buck. Listen to me, Buckaroo.” Hen’s hands were on his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. There, he saw worry and desperation strewn tight across her features. Underneath it all, though, was a strong determination. “He’s going to be okay. But you need to get checked over by Chim to make sure you’re going to be okay.”

It took Buck a second to process her words. He nodded, slowly. It’s what Eddie would tell him to do. Get checked over to make sure that they would both make it home.

Chimney’s hands were light and quick as he took Buck’s vitals. He was saying words, but Buck was too busy watching Hen and the others try to get Eddie to wake up. Hen rubbed on his sternum while somebody else was checking Eddie for broken bones. There was a bright light in his eyes as Chimney checked for pupillary response, and when it was gone Buck saw Hen crack a smelling salt stick by Eddie’s face.

When Eddie tried to jolt upright, Buck could hardly contain the cry that forced its way up his throat. This time, Chimney did not hold Buck back as he ran forward to Eddie, knees buckling under the weight of relief. 

Eddie was moving —alive— and Buck felt his chest swell with a sudden, overwhelming rush of emotions he’d been holding back.

“Eddie,” Buck choked back. He barely registered the pain and soreness in his body as he bent over Eddie. His hands hovered over every part of his body, whispering a mantra of, “You’re okay… You’re okay… You’re okay…”

Eddie blinked, his face scrunched up in confusion, the disorientation evident in his glazed over eyes. He tried to sit up, but the straps of the backboard held him in place.

“Easy there,” Hen said softly, glancing between Buck and Eddie, a question on her face. 

Eddie’s eyes, bleary and unfocused, finally landed on Buck. Everything stilled. His lips parted, his voice rough and scratchy when he finally spoke.

“Buck?”

Buck’s world collapsed. After everything—their fight, the silence between them, the fear of losing him—he couldn’t stop the tears that burned behind his eyes. All the words he wanted to say were gone, evaporating into the air between them. His hands shook where they still hovered, unsure if it was okay to touch him, unsure if he was real.

But Eddie’s gaze softened, and he saw right through Buck’s fear and guilt. Slowly, shaky but determined, Eddie reached his hand across to Buck’s arm. “I’m… I’m okay.”

Buck exhaled sharply, a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. Relief replaced his blood, filling his body until it was the only thing he felt, besides the exhaustion ripping open his bones.

His throat was dry and tight, and he was sure in that moment that nothing could tear his gaze away from Eddie’s face. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m so sorry for everything. I thought I wouldn’t get to—”

“Stop,” Eddie interrupted, squeezing Buck’s arm gently. “We’ll talk about it. But right now… we’re okay. We’re okay.”

He wanted to believe Eddie, but it still felt so raw, so close to slipping through his fingers. So he just nodded, brushing his fingers over any part of Eddie’s body he could reach.

“We’ve routed an ambulance nearby,” Bobby’s voice broke through, crouching down beside Buck. “We’re getting you both out of here. Just hang tight.”

Eddie’s breaths were shallow but steady, his color slowly returning, and that, more than anything, kept Buck tethered to reality.

Hen knelt back down on the other side of Eddie, checking his pulse again with steady hands. “You’re one lucky man, Eddie,” she muttered, shaking her head. 

As the siren of an ambulance neared, Buck helped to lift Eddie onto the stretcher, though he insisted that he was fine and didn’t need it. Buck just laughed at him and squeezed his hand, and Eddie shut up.

They had time. For once in his life, Buck had enough time. Eddie was alive, and as long as he was, Buck wasn’t letting go.

He never would.

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

The hospital room was quiet, the soft hum of the machines the only sound cutting through the stillness. Buck sat slumped in the chair beside the bed, his hand wrapped tight around Eddie’s, though he hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding on until now. His thumb traces absent patterns along Eddie’s knuckles.

Eddie was alive. Alive.

The fear still sat heavily on Buck’s chest, gnawing at his insides. He’d been so close to losing him, Eddie’s life drifting in between here and there .

His mind was stuck in an endless loop of ‘ what if?’ What if Bobby hadn’t found them in time? What if Eddie hadn’t been breathing when Buck came to? What if the ceiling had collapsed just a little more?

It all came back to one thing, the one fact that rang true in Buck’s head like a ballad: he couldn’t lose Eddie.

The thought of a life without Eddie was too painful to bear, a life that felt like it had been dangerously close to becoming his reality. 

Buck’s eyes drifted back to Eddie’s face, pale against the stark white hospital sheets. His lips were parted, breathing steady, but still too shallow for Buck’s comfort. The bruises and cuts across his face and along his arms mirrored Buck’s own. In a way, it was their connection, matching scars to prove that they would get through this together.

Buck hadn’t slept since the fire. He couldn’t tell if only an hour had passed or days, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Eddie long enough to relax. Even now, in the safety of the hospital, Buck couldn’t shake the feeling that Eddie was on the verge of disappearing.

A quiet rustling snapped Buck from his thoughts, and he blinked rapidly, heart lodging in his throat. Eddie’s fingers twitched in his hand, and Buck sat up straighter, grip tightening. He leaned forward, eyes wide, searching Eddie’s face for anything.

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice was barely there, a whisper filled with hope, desperate and raw. “Eddie, can you hear me?”

At his words, Eddie’s eyelids fluttered open, a small crease forming between his brows as he took in his surroundings through barely opened eyes. His breathing hitched slightly, no doubt from the stark familiarity of the hospital. He shifted in the bed, as if testing the limits of his injuries. 

Eddie squinted, blinking a few times before his gaze focused on Buck.

For a moment, neither spoke. Buck’s heart was pounding so hard he was sure Eddie could hear it reverberating down his arm and into Eddie’s palm, like he could somehow transfer part of his life to him. 

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice was raspy, barely audible, but it was enough to send a surge of relief flooding through Buck’s veins. 

Buck exhaled shakily, his shoulders sagging as he let out the breath he’d been holding. “Eddie… Thank god. You—” His voice cracked, and he had to gulp down the rising urge to cry. “You scared the hell outta me.”

Eddie’s lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile, but it was weak, like he didn’t have quite enough energy for it. “Now you know how I feel all the time,” he muttered, fingers twitching again in Buck’s hand.

Buck let out a half-laugh half-sob sound, holding up his and Eddie’s hands to press to his forehead. He closed his eyes, taking in the warmth of his body. 

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispered, the words spilling out. “Eddie, I’m so sorry. For everything—for what I said… I—”

“Buck.” Eddie cut him off, like he could hear the bubbling panic in Buck’s chest. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I do.” Buck’s voice wavered, his hand tightening around Eddie’s, lifting his gaze to stare back into his eyes that held so much life. “I was reckless. I pulled us back into the building… I should’ve listened to you earlier, when you said… when you said that I… I just—I can’t lose you, Eddie. I can’t—”

“You’re not gonna lose me,” Eddie interrupted, voice stronger now, more certain. He shifted in the bed, trying to sit up a little further. “Buck, I’m right here. It’s not like I can go anywhere else.”

Something sharp twisted in Buck’s chest, and he felt his tears begin to fall, soft raindrops that stained the air with the weight of everything he’d been carrying.

“Hey,” Eddie whispered, hand lifting to brush against the corner of Buck’s jaw. His thumb swiped over his cheek in a soft, soothing pattern. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too.” He took in a long, deep breath, urging Buck to do the same. “Everytime you pull some kind of stunt like that, I’m terrified something is going to go wrong, and I—and I forget that it’s just what you do. You see someone in danger, and you run full speed toward them.”

“Eddie, I—”

“And most of the time, I get it—I really do,” Eddie continued, before Buck could get in a word. “But that time, that night, Buck, you didn’t think about yourself at all. And I get that’s part of being a firefighter, but you didn’t even look at me before you went in.” Eddie’s voice faltered. “You didn’t stop to think what it would do to me, to Chris, if you didn’t come back.”

Buck felt regret sting in his chest. At the exact moment he had run into the house, he was only focused on one thing and one thing only—getting those kids out alive. But what Eddie didn’t understand was that there was already a part of him tied to the Diaz boys, a section of his mind that was dedicated to everything they made him feel. 

“I never wanted to hurt you, Eddie,” Buck whispered. “I just—I heard that mom screaming for them, and I couldn’t leave them in there.” Buck twisted so that his hand was back in Eddie’s. He took a deep breath. 

“I know.” Eddie’s eyes softened, a sort of relief washing over his face. “I just need you to think about more than just the fire, or the danger; what it would do to me if I lost you.”

Buck’s heart clenched. He nodded slowly, searching Eddie’s eyes. “I don’t ever want to put you or Christopher through that,” he whispered, because he understood how Eddie had felt. For a moment, when the ceiling had come down, and Buck was lying next to an unconscious Eddie, it felt as if his world had shattered. “I’ll be better,” he promised, trying to force his voice to stay steady. “I’ll make sure I always come back. To you. To Chris. Always.”

Eddie’s smile widened, and Buck saw a little flicker of something lighter in his eyes. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not going anywhere, either. We’re in this together.”

Buck traced his fingers down Eddie’s wrist. “Together,” he repeated, the word a promise laced so heavily with the implication of something more, that it made Buck want to cave inward on himself.

But he didn’t, so they just sat there, the hospital room quiet between them. 

They were both alive.

And that was enough.

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

Eddie was laughing, and the sound played in Buck’s ears over and over until it had wormed its way back into his heart. It felt like things were slipping right into place, like they were finding their way back to solid ground again. 

As they walked inside Eddie’s house, each taking slow steps, a sense of belonging wrapped around Buck. It had only been about a week, but it felt like much longer since he’d last been within the warm embrace of Eddie’s home. 

Now, standing in the middle of it all, he realized just how much he’d missed it.

Chris came barreling down the hall, calling, “Buck!” Before he could properly prepare, Chris was throwing himself into Buck’s arms.

“Whoa, easy there,” Buck said, ruffling his hair. 

“Sorry,” Chris said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “I just missed you.”

“Missed you too, kid,” he said, his voice warm.

Eddie smiled from where he was partially leaning against Buck. “Not even going to say hi to your own father?” he asked, clutching at his chest dramatically.

Chris rolled his eyes, but that familiar smile was playing on his face. 

Everything felt familiar—the soft hum of the ceiling fan, the smell of dinner that had probably been cooked by Pepa, the mix of puzzles and legos in the living room. It looked exactly how it did the last time Buck had been over, which sent a small pang right to his chest. 

Buck set Eddie’s bag down on the floor before helping him sit on the couch. “Comfortable?” he asked, adjusting one of the pillows behind Eddie’s back. 

“You don’t have to do all this, you know. I can manage,” Eddie said, but there was a certain softness in his tone, a gratitude that he didn’t have to voice for Buck to hear.

Buck shot him a playful glare. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy, Eddie. I’m just following orders.”

For a moment it was as if the last few days of silence and fear hadn’t happened at all. Buck and Eddie were sitting on the couch, beers in hand, while Chris sat at the table doing homework.

“I’ve missed this,” Eddie said softly, breaking the quiet as he sank further into the couch. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, leaning his head back against the cushions. “Missed having you around.”

“Me too,” Buck replied, unable to look away from the way the soft light made Eddie look ethereal, even with the lingering cuts and bruises.

With a soft exhale, Eddie sat up. “Hey Chris? Why don’t you go get ready for bed, huh?” Christopher let out a groan, but he got up from the table, putting his papers away into folders. “I bet Buck would like to hear about your book before you sleep.” That got Chris up and going, an eager light in his eyes.

Buck chuckled and shook his head. “Did you just sacrifice me?”

Eddie tried his best to hold back a grin, but Buck could see it in the corners of his eyes. “Of course not.”

As soon as Chris had run back to his room, Eddie turned to fully face Buck, and something shifted in his gaze. Buck had to take a deep breath to keep from choking on air.

“Buck.” 

The word was quiet, but it seemed to fill the room around them. Buck shifted, suddenly hyper-aware of the way Eddie was looking at him with something deeper, something raw that he wasn’t sure how to name yet.

“I—” Eddie paused, like he was chasing down the right words. “I will always be terrified that something will happen to you. Every day, we face the possibility of not coming back.” His eyes never left Buck’s, steady and grounding, and Buck was certain he was trapped there, being held down by Eddie’s words. “But I… Buck, you have to know that you’re a part of this —” he waved his hands around the room, gesturing to the couch, the kitchen, the home. “You will always have this to come back to, okay?”

Buck nodded, afraid that if he spoke, his words would flow straight from his heart, which was hammering in his chest. He gave himself a moment to reach out, resting a hand on Eddie’s knee, grounding himself in the warmth. “I… Eddie, I will always fight to come back to you, to Chris.” Eddie’s eyes flickered, softening as he listened. “I want this forever. I want—” His breath hitched as he searched Eddie’s face for any sign of rejection, of discomfort. He only found hope. “I want you. Both of you.”

The room was quiet around them, their words etching their way into the walls that felt more like a home than ever. Buck was terrified that Eddie would pull back, pull away. He didn’t. Eddie was the one to lean forward, to put his hand on top of Buck’s.

“I can’t—Buck, I love you,” Eddie whispered, bringing his other hand up to Buck’s face. “I love you, and it scares the hell out of me.”

Buck’s heart jumped in his chest, aching to tear its way out of his flesh and bone so it could lay itself in Eddie's hands. It was everything he’d wanted to hear, everything he’d been afraid to admit, and now, here it was, laid bare between them.

“I love you too,” Buck whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his hand coming up to cup Eddie’s jaw. “God, Eddie, I love you so much.” His eyes flickered to Eddie’s lips, and they were close enough that Buck could feel the little hitch in his breath. 

And just like that, everything melted into a little puddle in their laps. No more barriers, no more fear. Just the raw truth. 

Buck leaned in, his breath mingling with Eddie’s as they hovered, each waiting for a confirmation from the other. 

And then, finally, their lips met. 

The kiss was soft, gentle, and cautious, like they were both savoring the moment. If Buck could wrap this feeling up forever, he’d hide it in that little hole in his heart, the little hole that he’d already been filling with Eddie. His smile, his laugh, and now, his kiss.

Something shifted between them, a desperate need that neither could hold back. Eddie’s hand drifted to Buck’s shirt, gripping the fabric and pulling him closer. Buck brushed his thumb against Eddie’s cheek, wiping away any uncertainty that lay there.

It was a struggle to pull apart, to put a distance between them when it had hurt so bad before. So Buck kept Eddie close, resting their foreheads together as they caught their breath. 

“I want this,” Buck whispered again, his voice shaky but sure.

Eddie smiled. “Me too,” he said, pressing the words to Buck’s forehead and sealing it with a gentle kiss. 

Buck closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Eddie’s touch flood him. When he opened them again, Eddie was looking at him with so much love that Buck felt like he would combust. 

“I’ll never do anything risky again,” Buck whispered with a soft laugh. “If it means I’ll come back to this.”

Eddie laughed with him, the rumble echoing up into Buck’s heart. He brushed a stray curl off Buck’s forehead, and when he leaned back in for another kiss, it held a warmth that Buck wanted to hold onto forever.

But just then, Buck had enough sense to hear the creaking of an opening door. It took every ounce of his control to pull away from Eddie, just as Christopher peeked his head around the corner.

“Buck? Can I show you my book now?” he asked, yawning as he leaned against the wall.

Buck smiled, tugging at Eddie’s hand that now rested in his lap. “Yeah, bud. I’ll be right there.”

He found Eddie’s eyes again, a playful look twinkling just beneath the surface. As he stood to follow Chris to his room, his heart swelled with the knowledge that this was home. 

Chris and Eddie were his home.

𝅳● 𝅳● 𝅳●

Buck would continue to be Buck. He’d still run into burning buildings and chase that adrenaline high. But, now, he’d always stop to look over at Eddie, to remind himself that he had something to come back to.

And now that he had it, he’d never let it go.