Work Text:
Bobby waves off the applause, poised with his hands on his hips under the ‘Welcome back, Cap!’ sign they all spent way too long on for how basic it looks. Definitely not their best work.
“And for another good news,” Bobby says, looking meaningfully at Buck. “Gerrard is going to make a complete recovery.”
“Let’s redefine our meaning of good news,” Chimney stage-whispers, while Buck’s smile stutters a bit.
“Better than being impaled by a flying blade. He’s welcome, by the way.”
Eddie nudges his shoulder against Buck’s, trying to ignore the sinking pit his stomach has become as his thumb hovers over Carla’s last message on the unlocked screen of his phone.
Carla (09:01 am)
How are you, boo?
Buck turns to give him a small smile tinted with worry as it always tends to look these days, and Eddie can see him do a double take from the corner of his eye when he doesn’t meet his gaze but sags against his shoulder all the same. “You okay, Eds?”
He’s asked that a lot, lately. He never knows how else to say he feels like there’s not even a him anymore that can live above the autopilot-level of functioning he’s switched to ever since Chris hung up on him through a screen the first time, much less an him that can live enough to reach a how state of being anything. He either smiles tightly and offers up a neutral fine or lets the question dissolve into the inevitable indifference his existence seems to drag along.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiles at Buck, blinking slowly and looking back down at his phone.
To Carla (09:07)
It’s looking like he might stay in Texas for the semester.
He shakes his head to get the breath threatening to get stuck in his throat up and out, pocketing his phone and trying to focus back on what’s around him just in time to grab a plate with a slice of cake that Hen shoves at him. Buck touches his shoulder once and Eddie leans away from him, taking his weight with him. “Sorry.”
Buck opens his mouth with that sparkle in his eyes that glints more and more like pity each time he looks at Eddie and he can’t take it, so he gratefully takes the out coming at him in the form of Bobby tutting at the discussion gone on without Eddie registering it.
“You know what? The Hotshots crew was better. I can already feel another heart attack coming up.”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
“Yeah, Cap. Don’t even joke about a bunch of actors being a better crew than us, what the hell?”
Laughter rings around the station and Eddie sways, Buck’s presence solid at his side and Hen lit up with her bright, beautiful smile and Chimney looking pleased as he gets more cake and Bobby back where he belongs. For a second it feels alright, and he lets himself indulge in the feeling.
“Wonder how they would have handled the bee-nado.” Buck mumbles, and Bobby hums.
“I might still consult for them occasionally, I could mention that. They’ve really enjoyed all the stories from our rescues.”
“You spoke to them about us?” Hen smirks, pointing her fork at Bobby.
“I really missed you guys,” Bobby says, rolling his eyes immediately when the cooing chorus starts around him. “Clearly there’s more wrong with me than I previously thought since that’s true.”
“C’mon Cap, you lo-ove us.” Buck sing-songs, smile full and bright again once it’s aimed at someone that’s not a miserable ball of tangled failures like Eddie is, leaning away from his side. He hates the fact that his body tries to chase after Buck.
Bobby looks so fond as he looks at Buck, clapping his shoulder and squeezing it tight, that the way his expression shifts into something more cautious when he turns to look at Eddie makes him want to take a step away like the spooked deer Bobby must be seeing what with Eddie standing a foot away from everyone else now that Buck isn’t near him.
“Actually Eddie, you might enjoy the show. I mean, it’s no telenovela,” Eddie chuckles dutifully at the friendly jab, shoving the fact that he hasn’t kept up with a single telenovela he used to watch with Chris now that the house is empty to a corner of his mind. “But I know you enjoy procedurals as well. It airs on Thursdays.”
“Yeah,” he says. He looks down at the icing melting off his slice of cake to avoid having to keep his expression intact too long under the eyes of everyone. “Yeah, I might tune in.”
-----
“I don’t know if-” Eddie stops, and breathes in deep. Frank watches him patiently and Eddie feels so stupid.
“I don’t know if anyone actually likes me.” The words tumble off him like rocks detaching off the side of a cliff, but Eddie knows somehow that would hurt less than saying this stuff out loud.
Frank folds his hands on his lap, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”
Eddie scoffs, feeling ants start crawling up his arms and making heat flare up on his face. “What do I mean? My son hates me. My own mother doesn’t like me, why would anyone else?” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, frustrated.
“I’m- pathetic. Lame, boring. I had to grow a fucking mustache to try and distract myself from seeing anything other than that in the mirror everyday.”
“Eddie,” Frank starts, his voice steady as ever. Eddie’s eye twitches. “At the risk of sounding like the most cliche therapist to ever grace this chair, people like you.”
“Thank you for the nugget of wisdom, Frank.”
Frank inclines his head. “It’s what I’m here for. Why do you think you’re pathetic, lame and boring?” He lists all three raising a finger of his right hand for each one.
“I’m just. There.” Eddie looks at the glass of water on the coffee table between them, full to the brim. He pictures drop after drop continuing to fill it even if it’s full, until it flows over and spills everywhere. That’s the feeling, he thinks.
“The best thing about me was Chris. Without him I’m, what, a guy who likes telenovelas? Who likes sports? What’s more pathetic than that?” He scoffs again and winces at himself when he can’t stop the next jumble of words out of his mouth. “Buck hasn’t ever wanted to play basketball with me until a guy he liked more came along, and he’s my- my person. Best friend.” God, this is so fucking embarrassing. He knows he has to be here if he even remotely wants Chris to consider holding a conversation with him again, but goddamn.
Frank gets that look in his eyes that resembles alarmingly a dog wanting to chase a bone thrown right into its line of sight, but he leans backwards and picks up his pen instead.
“Eddie, you work well with your team. You’ve been together for years, they’re your chosen family. They love you.”
“Yeah, family.” Eddie says, and he swallows against the bitterness of the word. “What if- what if it’s just because we’ve been through terrible things on the job? What if it’s just because I’m- of use? It doesn’t mean they like me.”
Drip-drip-drip. In his mind’s eye the glass is ready to spill and leave a mess behind. Nothing new there.
“Yeah,” he sinks down on the couch, and gets ready to soldier through the last half hour of the session. “It's never meant that.”
-----
Buck (19:37)
raincheck?? tommy showed up for a surprise date
Eddie pauses, turns back around to open the fridge and puts back one of the two beers he’d gotten out for him and Buck.
Buck (19:38)
says he asked to change shifts to line up with our 24 off smthg about not spending much time tghter
Buck (19:39)
sorry I rlly wanted to watch the game with you
Eddie snorts, throwing himself on the couch. Buck doesn’t like baseball one bit; the game has always been just another excuse to spend time together and have Eddie bask in Buck going off on a tangent that lights him up, a steady stream that Eddie can dip his hand into to touch contentment and ignore his team losing miserably. It’s been happening less and less lately, Buck navigating a new relationship and being so happy Eddie can’t look at him sometimes. Seeing him so free, so comfortable, it’s an honor to witness and a stab wound to the chest each time he can’t help feeling like he’s being left behind. But that’s a childish feeling and Eddie can’t afford to lie down, turn on his side and cry about it, so-
To Buck (19:41)
Don’t worry about it, Buck. Have fun, enjoy the evening. I’ll see you at work
He takes a swing of his beer and changes channels, and a sudden wave of embarrassment has him scooch over from the center of the couch over to the corner, curling up in a ball. That’s where he was sitting a few weeks ago on his son’s birthday, stupid decorations thrown over the room, stupid cupcakes brought for no reason at all other than try and claw out of his own desperation. When Buck has asked if Tommy could tag along he’d been too nervous about speaking to Chris to even try and articulate how that made him feel, but he’d shoved it down on the pile of things he doesn’t let himself think about at the earnest look in Buck’s eyes. “I just thought- it’s family, and I want him to know my family.” He’d said, huge crystal blue eyes boring into his own crazed dirt-brown ones, and he’d just nodded. “Yeah, ‘course. Chris loves Tommy.”
And then he’d stood there alone, Buck looking at him with something in his eyes that Eddie couldn’t grasp for the life of him, Tommy with a hand on the small of his back, and he’d told them thank you for coming, go, enjoy the rest of your evening like he did just now and when Buck moved his eyes full of that untranslatable something over the room and he’s said, “But the decorations-”
“I’ll deal with it.” And Eddie did, taking down the happy birthday sign and popping the balloons and boxing the cupcakes back up and putting his laptop in his closet so he didn’t have to glance at it and feel that immense sense of shame that’s been synonymous with his existence ever since he could comprehend the meaning of unable-to-do-anything-right.
He can’t escape from it now, and he presses his elbows down on his stomach to keep it at bay, until he lands on a channel that makes the volume on his tv boost up as firetrucks blare by and sirens sound off.
There’s a building fully leaning down, tilted on its side onto another building, balancing on nothing more than momentum. The shot pans over to two firefighters staring up at it, shoulders touching, until one of them swears and takes off a glove to reach for his phone. Their heads snap up at their Captain calling for them.
“Sanchez, Jones! Harness up. You’re scaling that building.”
The one not looking at his phone calls back an affirmative, and when the other doesn’t follow he turns a raised eyebrow at him. His eyes are a shock of blue.
“Who are you trying to reach, Sanchez?”
Eddie feels the déjà-vu hit him square in the chest, a question so similar in a reality so far away it might as well be a scripted episode of tv as well. He watches Sanchez bite his lip, Jones turning worried.
“My daughter, she’s at school. No signal whatsoever.”
Eddie grabs a pillow, and definitely doesn’t hug it for dear life until the episode ends.
-----
“You’re gonna burn a hole in your phone if you keep staring at it, Evan.”
Buck huffs out an awkward laugh, shifting in his chair. He kept typing and retyping an answer to Eddie’s last message, not wanting to leave it at just that, the thought of Eddie sitting at home alone making his stomach turn.
“Eddie?” Tommy says, and his tone is even. It’s not passive or aggressive, he just says it, and yet Buck can feel the defensiveness start without him even gearing himself up.
“I’m just- just worried about him.”
Tommy hums and smiles at him and it’s a normal smile, a nice smile, but Buck’s thoughts still get away from him and he thinks the lines around it are too tight, like they’re strings on a rock sling snapping back to take aim.
“He’s coping, right? He’s back in therapy, he jokes around, looks like he’s taking care of himself.”
He’s pulling back. He doesn’t express a single feeling he’s experiencing. I don’t know how to help. Buck can’t stop shaking his head to clear the argument with himself, and he steers to picking at the tablecloth instead and trying to muster up a smile of his own.
“He’s trying. He always tries so hard, and-” and I just want to be there. I want to help.
“He’ll be fine.”
Buck nods, bites his lip. Tommy keeps speaking but sitting here, in a nice restaurant with his nice boyfriend, Buck can’t stop thinking about sending that message he kept typing and retyping. I don’t enjoy anything much if I’m not with you.
-----
Eddie turns on his side on the bunk, earphone pressing a little painfully in his ear. He brings his phone up to his face so he can see Sanchez squeeze Jones shoulder.
“Thank you, for not giving up on me out there.”
“I could never. I’ll always have your back.”
Eddie flails when someone’s hand lands on his own shoulder, shaking him. His earphones fall out just as he lifts his head to see Hen cackling quietly, sitting down on the bunk next to his to try and catch some sleep of her own. “Sorry Eddie, couldn’t resist. Whatcha watching?”
He fake-glares at her as they both lay down properly again, turning to face each other. “Hotshots. It’s no Los Ricos También Lloran, but it’s entertaining. Bobby’s influence is everywhere, I think he enjoyed being there more than he let on.”
“It is? Me and Karen might have to start the silly firefighter show ourselves.”
Eddie makes a vague sound of agreement and looks away from Hen for a moment, shadows moving softly around them in the stillness of the night, waiting for the next call.
“Hen?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Do you think- do you think our definition of what love is can- change?” He whispers, like he can keep the question from getting out of his ribcage despite him actually asking it.
“Sure it can. Life happens, we move through it, we change. The love we carry or the love we want can change with us.” She pillows her head on one of her hands while the other reaches out across to him. Eddie grabs it, holding on maybe a little bit too tightly if the knowing glint in her eyes takes on worry as well.
“Why do you ask?”
Eddie hesitates, twisting his mouth. “I’m trying to- figure out. Figure out who I am a little better? And I think maybe the love I want is different than the love I was taught to want.”
Hen squeezes his hand and nods at him to go on. “It would be nice to- feel cared for as well. To be able to lean on someone. To know I was loved because they like who I am. To do the hard things and the easy things together, being able to just- be. I think I’ve always- I’ve always had to do what was expected of me and be happy with the scraps. You know?”
Hen’s eyes look bright through her glasses and Eddie turns his head into the pillow, closing his eyes. She waits until he opens them again to answer.
“Eddie, you deserve that. You deserve it all. Actually,” She leans forward and drags him close to her, her stare urgent as she whispers fiercely. “You have it. You already have it. You built it, and you have it.”
Eddie huffs what he means to be a laugh but it’s more of a strangled imitation of a sob. “I don’t. Not with- not that. It can’t be, because I’d ruin it, just like everything else.”
“Impossible. You stumble, sure, but you get up, and you try, and that’s so damn important. Eddie,” his phone digs painfully in his side, and he’s hyper-aware of his heart beating into his throat. “Give yourself grace.”
Give yourself grace. He’s never been given that, he’s pretty sure. He could- he could be the first.
He nods once and breathes deep until he melts and his spine uncurls and his legs unfold. A while passes, and then he speaks hesitantly again. “Hen? Thank you.”
“What for? I’m always here for middle of the night deep talks and life revelations.” Eddie can hear the smile in her voice, and he matches it with a silent one of his own. His heart keeps beating fast and he doesn’t let himself drift off until he hears heavy footsteps, falling in a pattern he could recognize anywhere, reach them and stop to drop down on the empty bunk on his other side.
-----
To Chris (8:40 am)
Mijo, I need an answer about school. I’m not trying to pressure you, or force you. I just need to hear it from you.
To Chris (8:42 am)
We could try and FaceTime again if you want. Or call.
To Chris (8:43 am)
Or we could just text. I just want to hear from you. I love you.
The rig jostles them as it speeds along the street and Eddie instinctively closes his thighs around Buck’s legs where they’re tucked in their usual place between his to keep him from being thrown around too much. Buck smiles that smile at him that means thanks, and then his eyebrows drawn together and the dimples on his cheeks get deeper as the points of his lip turn down in what means Chris?
Eddie nods and looks outside, frowning when they get closer and closer to the church they just got called to for a fire scare. No sign of flames or smoke anywhere. “Isn’t this the church you come to, Cap?” Eddie asks through the headphones; Bobby had mentioned it before.
“It is- must have been a false alarm, thankfully.”
They jump out and a scatter of people outside turns immediately towards the commotion, a young priest holding a fire extinguisher coming to meet them halfway with a sheepish smile. “Captain Nash.”
“Father,” Bobby replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “Everything alright?”
“Just had a little scare with one of the candles falling during mass and catching on cloth, but,” he holds up the fire extinguisher. “Thanks to your teachings we’ve been just fine.”
Bobby throws his head back in a genuine laugh and Eddie can feel himself start sweating under his turnouts. The church looms over him and he feels like a kid again with a button up fastened all the way up to his neck and his mother holding a baby Adriana that wouldn’t quieten until Eddie gave her his pinky finger to hold and Sophia squirming in their father’s arms on a rare Sunday he was home, climbing down to stand next to Eddie instead. The priest's voice cold and severe chaining him to the spot in the unbearable heat only a church on a Sunday morning in Texas can hold, his breath coming shorter and shorter the more he had to listen to everything that made him wrong in the eyes of God.
“-ds. Eds, hey, come back to me. Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere.” Eddie blinks, dragging a hand down his mustache. He swallows, his mouth feeling pasty with the escaping almost-start of panic.
“Looked like somewhere from here.”
“Just church being the house of the devil instead,” he mutters under his breath.
The priest addressed them all with an apologetic smile. “I’m truly sorry for making you waste your very important time. Miss Richards got a little scared and called 911 for good measure.”
“And thank God I did,” a loud voice calls, a little old lady waving at them. “Look at all these very good-looking firefighters!”
They all laugh, and the priest shakes his head. “Indeed, Miss Richards. They’re all very distinguished.” He gestures towards Eddie, mimicking a mustache on his own face. “Not everyone can pull off a mustache.”
Eddie rubs a hand on his neck, self-conscious. He’s been teased mercilessly, he knows the mustache looks stupid, but as long as it works on not focusing first on his own miserable eyes when he looks into the mirror, he’s keeping it. He’s cut off before he can answer.
“Eddie can pull off anything.” Buck says, words a little rushed. Eddie can feel himself start to blush that terrible bright red flush that takes over his entire face before he can take cover via shoving his head in the metaphorical sand.
They all turn to stare at Buck, who looks back at them with confusion on his face until he actually registers what he said and he stutters through a blush of his own. “What? He can. It’s Eddie.”
Hen has a smile on her face that creeps into crazed territory. Chimney snaps his gum, smirking. “Indeed.” He says, and it sounds ominous for some reason.
“On that note,” Bobby interrupts, and Eddie is tempted to pray just to thank God for Bobby Nash. “We should be on our way. A pleasure to see you, Father.”
“Pleasure’s mine, Captain. The church is always open.” He says, and his gaze lingers on Eddie for a second. Eddie nods, turns, and feels panic creep up quietly up his throat again.
-----
“Do you think-” Eddie has to press down on his leg to get it to stop moving. The faint sting of pain gives him something else to focus on instead of the urge to open the door and make a run for it. “Do you think it’s pathetic to be going through a sexuality crisis in your thirties?”
Frank pauses, pen halting half-way through whatever he was jotting down. He looks at Eddie above the rim of his glasses. “Eddie, it’s not pathetic at all. It’s something very brave to navigate. There is absolutely no time limit on figuring out an aspect of yourself.”
He might not think it’s pathetic but Eddie surely thinks the way he can feel himself tear up might be.
“I’ve never had- space. To, to figure myself out. I always had to be what everyone else told me to be and think- think about someone else. And now it’s all- I think I’ve always been different, but.” He sniffles, and Frank hands him a tissue. Eddie takes it without looking at him.
“But you never had the chance to just be.”
Eddie nods. “And I love Shannon. So much. She was my first ever best friend, and I know, I know the grief of losing her will never really leave me. But I think I’ve figured out the kind of love I want for myself and it looks-” it looks like blue eyes and a big hand on his back, a joyful voice filling his life, making noise in his kitchen, thighs bumping together-
“Different than what you thought it had to be.”
“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “It’s beautiful nonetheless.”
-----
Eddie lays down on his couch, hugging a pillow. Seems like he can’t watch an episode of Hotshots without an emotional support object when he’s able to watch one at home. But even strangling the pillow isn’t helping this time around; he’s watching Jones call out for Sanchez trapped in a crumbled house and Eddie’s crying. He can’t even muster up enough embarrassment about it.
Jones keeps screaming out for Alejandro! Alejandro! and it feels so real Eddie shivers. He stops screaming when their captain grabs him by the neck to make him look into his eyes.
“Son, look at me. Johnny, look at me, kid. I’ll speak to you like I’m speaking to a widow right now. I won’t do you the disservice of not treating you like you don’t love that man.”
Eddie gasps, sitting up and leaning forward so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t pull something at his big old age. They’re in love. “Holy shit,” he says to the empty house. Or at least empty until-
“Eds? Are you crying? What happened?”
Eddie jumps, so absorbed he didn’t even hear Buck fumbling with his keys and coming in to find him a mess on the couch. He’s quick to nod a reassurance, even if Buck sits down next to him with his hands hovering like he wants to check him over for injuries. “Yeah, just-” he points at the tv, resting his chin on the pillow and swiping his sleeve under his eyes.
Buck relaxes next to him, face melting into amusement. “What show is this? Oh, Hotshots?”
Eddie nods, and Buck has been here enough times during telenovela nights to know he’s useless when he’s crying over an episode of something. Wait, Buck’s here-
“Wait, I thought you were hanging out with Tommy tonight?”
Buck shrugs, throwing an arm on the back of the couch and behind Eddie’s back by proxy. “I wanted to see you.”
“Oh.”
Buck has his head resting on the couch, tilted to look up at Eddie, a small smile on his face. He looks like he’s always looked in Eddie’s house. Like he belongs.
Their staring match is broken when a loud sound comes from the tv and they turn to watch the house crumble further down on itself.
“I still haven’t watched an episode- is this your new Los Ricos También Lloran? Do I have to stock up on tissues-” Buck’s teasing stops just as Johnny gasps and starts screaming again.
“No! Alejandro! Ale-” He falls down on the ground, crawling towards what remains of the house. Eddie can feel Buck tense next to him.
“Johnny, we’re not- we can’t-”
“We’re digging by hand. I don’t care, I don’t care, I’m getting him back-”
“Buck.” Eddie says, turning to face him fully. His eyes have gone glassy and he’s breathing with his mouth open. “Hey. Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He puts a cautious hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing at the juncture of his neck. His pulse is a little fast, and Eddie gets closer to catch his eyes.
Buck snaps out of it when Eddie’s knee touches his and he seems to shake out of a hazy stupor, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “I’m fine! It’s okay, just-”
“Where’d you go?”
Buck breathes in what looks like a painful breath, plastering a smile back on his face. “Nowhere.”
“Mhm. Looked like somewhere.”
Buck chuckles at the callback, settling down. “It’s okay, Eds, really. Stop worrying about me, I’m fine. So, how many references to our rescues have actually been in this show so far?”
-----
Eddie sits down heavily at the table, Bobby passing him a plate of pancakes and Buck handing him a plate with freshly cut strawberries. His favorite.
“Uh oh,” Chimney eyes him suspiciously. “That looked like an I-have-something-to say type of way to sit down.”
“There’s an I-have-something-to-say way to sit down?” Buck asks, putting more strawberries on Eddie’s plate when he goes to hand it back to him.
“Heavy. Loaded. You wouldn’t know, Buck, you can’t grow a mustache.”
“I can so grow a mustache!”
“Children,” Hen interrupts. She nods at Eddie. “Let the man speak.”
Eddie puts his fork down, wincing at the loud clang it makes. No one else seems to notice, their focus on him. “So. I’ve been going to therapy.”
They nod; Buck shifts closer to him. “And in the interest of- of following through and making progress, Frank has given me homework. Trying to speak about myself to the people I love.”
“I’ve tried to find a time that might be right to speak to each of you alone, but you- you guys are busy, rightfully so, and I don’t want to be another burden-”
Eddie appreciates the chorus of protests raising at that, and he looks at Buck to reassure him that it’s fine, he understands, doesn’t make it any less true. They can’t be thinking about him as well on top of everything else.
“I just wanted to tell you that- I’ve been trying to find myself, and. I might be- I am,” his throat is closing up. He can’t do it, he can’t- “Queer.”
He can feel their eyes widening more than see them because the silence makes his throat close up faster and his eyes blurry and his shoulders are down because of the breath punched out of him with that single word and then Hen is getting up and coming to hug him tight, and Bobby is holding his trembling hand and Chimney is smiling so hard and Buck is- he’s frozen, and Eddie stares at him over Hen’s shoulder, looking at the way he’s blinking fast and hard like he’s watching the sun up close. He must clear the spots of light out of his vision enough to catch the way Eddie can’t help but let a draft of fear slip through his face, because the next time he blinks his eyes are wet and he falls forward to grab Eddie's neck and bring him close for a hug, stealing him from Hen.
“I’m so proud. So proud, Eds.” He says it so softly, and Eddie grips him back.
“Thank you for telling us, Eddie.” Bobby adds, and Eddie slips away from Buck to be able to look at them all again.
“Thank you for- listening.”
“We gotta celebrate,” Hen adds. “You’re coming with me and Karen to the club, Diaz.”
Buck spreads his arms, palms up. “We can’t come to the club as well?”
“The gay club.” Hen laughs, and Chimney copies Buck’s pose of mock offense.
“And? We can’t come to the gay club?”
Eddie laughs, the panic ebbing away and the stones on his chest getting lighter. He looks down and realizes he had his fists clenched. Buck touches his elbow to have him look at him, and his hands open up on their own volition, as if poised to catch the fond smile Buck gifts him with.
-----
To Chris (22:00 pm)
Halloween coming up, mijo
To Chris (22:02 pm)
Any ideas for your costume yet?
“Oh, shit, I love this song!”
Eddie can feel the bass pump in his chest, and he grabs the shot Karen is handing him with a dip of his head. They turn to watch Chimney and Maddie laugh at each other as they take turns twirling the other around the dance floor, and Eddie almost misses the conspirator look Karen and Hen share before looking at him and giggling. He narrows his eyes. “What?”
“You’re oblivious as hell, is what. I feel like we’ve brought a piece of meat that we’re dangling over a lion's den.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Hen and Karen roll their eyes in perfect sync, moving to stand on each side of him and grab his shoulders. They lean down and look at him with even more perfectly matching serious expressions. “Eddie, baby. You’re hot. There’s at least ten guys circling this table right now waiting to make a move.”
Eddie splutters, putting a hand to his immediately flaming face. “Ten? Guys, come on.”
“You’re right, I think at least half the club has stared at your ass at least once since we came in.”
“Karen!”
“What! You’re out, you’re proud, have fun!”
“I’m- I’ve been out for like, two minutes, I haven’t even let myself-”
“Actually look at guys?”
“At other-” He stops, swallowing back the rest of what he was going to say. The fact that he flinches and doesn’t meet their eyes must give him away anyways, because their hold on him turns gentler. Hen puts a hand over his. “Hey,” she says, and waits until he looks up.
“We know, Eddie. It’s nothing to be scared of.”
“I know you know.” He says, and really, he’s had enough embarrassment to last him a lifetime already, it can stop at any time. “I know you know why I’ve figured it out. So no, I haven’t let myself look at other- at other guys.” Other than Buck.
They let him have a moment, and he turns his hand up to squeeze Hen’s back.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Karen starts. “You can figure it out now, in two years, in ten minutes. But Eddie, fun is something you deserve to have.”
“And finding someone you actually want to date this time around.”
He snorts, and his treacherous eyes wander over to the bar where Buck is grabbing other drinks with Tommy. “I’m never going to date again.”
“Why the hell not?”
“I don’t think I’m made to be with someone. Christopher is my priority, I’ve just- hurt him over this. I don’t need to date. I’m fine.”
“That is-” Karen stops once she spies Buck and Tommy shouldering their way back to their table, and she shares a nod with Hen. They both fix him with a glare.
“This conversation isn’t over, Diaz.”
“What conversation?” Buck asks, putting down the shots he was balancing up his head to avoid bumping people.
“Eddie should get dancing, don’t ya think?” Hen says. Eddie throws her a grateful look.
“Good idea,” Buck shouts over the music. “Let’s all go!”
“He should get dancing with one of the hunks ready to pounce on him,” Karen deadpans. Buck’s smile slips off his face so fast Eddie doesn’t have time to ponder the why me point of it all before it’s replaced with confusion. “What hunks?”
It’s Tommy that laughs this time around, shaking his head. “Evan, you really haven’t noticed the people staring at Eddie?”
Buck looks taken aback, looking around them and moving closer to Eddie as if he wants to grab him in a fireman carry and make a run for it. “Oh- no, I- I haven’t.” He says it quietly and Eddie feels guilty for no logical reason he can comprehend.
“Well it doesn’t even matter, I haven’t danced with another person one-on-one in literal years.”
He doesn’t have anyone else to blame for what happens next, really, except for himself and maybe Frank. Definitely Frank as well and his whole express your feelings Eddie, people care about your thoughts, Eddie thing. He doesn’t believe in the universe but it sure as hell like to fuck with him as soon as he even touches on a part of him that hurts. “I really enjoyed dancing. My abuela always said I was a good latin dancer. Salsa, bachata, rumba. My mother never really liked me doing it, though. Said it was a waste of time.”
“Just another thing she’s wrong about.” Buck says, and there’s such conviction in his voice that Eddie can’t help but believe him a little, even if he speaks from best friend bias.
The bass fades away around the club, and there’s a split second of silence before the lights get softer and warmer and just like Eddie’s the protagonist of a nightmare, the opening notes of a familiar rhythm of bachata start, and the people on the dance floor shift in unison in a tidal wave of slowing down, a delighted cheer going up. They might as well be cheering for Eddie’s imminent death.
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“The universe, Edmundo.” Hen says, shoving his shoulder. “The universe wants you to dance bachata right this instant.”
“The universe has to work better, because who would I even dance-”
“If you’re looking for a partner,” a deep voice interrupts them, and they all turn to look at the guy looming behind Eddie with dark eyes and dark hair and a smirk that’s a little annoying because it’s so self-assured. “I’ve been told I dance a mean bachata.”
Eddie crosses his arms. “Being told and actually doing it are two different things, aren’t they?”
The guy laughs, and extends a hand. “Fiesty. You’ll have to find out for yourself.”
Eddie swallows, and looks from his hand to his eyes and thinks, This is everything I could never do. I’m not allowed, am I? I’m-
“Show us if you still got it, Edmundo!” Karen whoops. The song goes on.
Eddie takes his hand, and lets himself be led to the dance floor.
-----
Eddie’s face is soft from the pleased splash of a blush on his cheeks, smile wide and crinkling up the corners of his eyes; he holds up his hands in embarrassment while he makes his way back to them and he’s given a round of applause Buck can’t seem to unfreeze enough to join, something ugly crawling its way up from his stomach with sharp claws.
“You got serious moves, Diaz.” Karen says, reaching out to squeeze Eddie’s shoulder. “Actually, think you could give Hen and I some lessons?”
Eddie laughs and he sweeps at the hair plastered a little to his forehead and Buck can see the guy he’s just danced with still looking at Eddie from the dance floor and what kind of nerve does that guy have to even have offered in the first place and that something in his stomach has almost torn its way bloody skyward across his throat and he can’t stop it; it’s jittery, it’s under his skin-
“I’m nowhere near good enough to be a teacher myself, but-”
Buck can’t stop it. He can’t stop it, it’s in his mouth and it tastes like acid and he can’t stop it and he hates it because Eddie’s eyes look so bright-
“This is how you find yourself?”
If it wasn’t for the music on blast the silence ringing over the angry thumping of his heart would have made him cower in shame. He barely feels Tommy laying a hand on his forearm, resisting the urge to shrug him off. “Chris still doesn’t want to speak to you- and, what, this is the priority?”
“Buck.” Hen hisses, moving to face him, partially blocking his view of Eddie physically flinching back. He regrets it the moment it’s out of his mouth, the moment he felt that ugly thing turn his stomach as he saw another man grip Eddie by the hips.
Eddie twists his mouth to the side and shifts his weight and he looks so defeated as his eyes blink around the room to avoid looking at any of them that Buck is out of his seat to throw himself at his feet and beg forgiveness in a flash, if not for Hen stopping him with a hand on his chest. He doesn’t know what the hell is wrong with him, Eddie just told them about Helena not wanting him to dance, he’s just come out, and Buck can’t handle the jealousy clouding his brain for five seconds.
“I just. I’ve always liked dancing but I couldn’t- and I wanted to do it again.” Eddie says quietly, and he flinches again at the admission. He sucks in a breath and finally looks at Buck and it’s Buck’s turn to flinch back from the grenade he threw and Eddie couldn’t escape this time around.
“Eddie-” Karen is holding onto Eddie, but he’s shaking his head and trying to pick the shards of his expression into a patchwork of a smile to face them with.
He gestures vaguely towards the exit, taking a few steps back. “I’ll- yeah, I’ll leave. Call an Uber or something.” He nods at them while looking at the floor and Buck just wants him to look at him. To always look at him.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, guys.”
Karen looks back at Hen and they silently agree on something in the span of a second with a nod at each other, Karen making to follow Eddie out. “Eddie, wait- let us drive you-”
Her voice gets drowned out by the music and Buck couldn’t stop it and now he can’t breathe quite right. “I have to go get him-”
“No.” Hen says, and she looks- sad, more than mad. “Don’t ever, ever speak to Eddie like that again.” Tommy squeezes his forearm harder and this time Buck actually shoves him off, blinking back the burn behind his eyes.
Hen keeps looking at him and she shakes her head to herself resolutely. “He’s been trying. All his life, actually. And you’re supposed to be the person that loves him the most?”
Buck opens and closes his mouth, unable to let a single word out. You’ll never be the guy who thinks before he acts. That’s all his brain can hit him with; Bobby’s voice cutting through the fog clouding his thoughts.
“I’ve seen you grow up,” Hen continues. “I’ve seen you mature. I’ve seen the love you give burn bright the moment you first glared at Eddie. You’ve been insane about each other from day one and you’ll never not be anything less than that. But Buck,” she searches his eyes and lingers on the tightness he knows is around his mouth in an effort to keep it together. “If the love you give hurts him it means you gotta go through the effort and grow it out into something tender again. And again. As many times as it takes.”
I don’t have a choice, you’re never gonna change. Buck can’t keep holding Hen’s eyes and he barely reacts, nodding small and stilted. She looks at Tommy once as if remembering only now that he was even there before turning around and disappearing through the crowd. Buck puts both hands on his stomach, trying to talk himself into not throwing up.
Tommy hesitates before he puts a hand on his shoulder; Buck still can’t muster the energy to react. He knows this can’t go on, he knows he can’t drag it out anymore, and maybe Tommy can read it in the tense line of his spine and the distant look in his eyes. Maybe he wants to take something else out of Buck’s soul before they break the fragile thread of a head-first dive into a new experience doomed from the start and Buck can’t even fault him for it.
“He looked more in pain than when you threw him on the ground over a basketball game.”
Today was not that. Buck looks at him, forces himself to breathe through his nose, and gets up.
-----
Eddie sits in the pews, looks up at the cross, and tries to understand why instead of giving the Uber driver his home address he gave him the one to this church instead.
He’s digging his nails in the skin of his folded hands, and he fills full to the brim with- with everything. He’s not sure he can take much of everything anymore. The silence feels suffocating, and a church at almost midnight shouldn’t be this bright.
“Evening.” It echoes down the aisle, and Eddie startles in spite of himself. He turns to see the young priest from their call at the church cautiously make his way towards him.
“Hello, Father- sorry for the late hour.” His voice trembles, and he hates it
“No apologies necessary,” the priest says, sitting down next to him. “Church is always open for a reason.”
Eddie nods, and looks back up at the cross. It used to scare him when he was a kid. An expression of forever pain, of forever hurt. He thought that’s what it meant to be deserving of living.
“I don’t know if I have a reason for being here,” he starts, and his voice feels thick. “Maybe I can’t get enough of punishing myself.”
“Why would being here be a punishment, Firefighter-” he trails off, looking for his name.
“Diaz. Eddie, please.”
“Eddie. Why punish yourself?”
Eddie shakes his head. “I’m everything that could possibly be wrong with someone.” He laughs and it sounds off and he turns to look at the priest for a moment, and spite at God gets his mouth running before he can stick a leg out and stop it from taking off. “I’m gay, I’m in love with my best friend who’s the only person that seems to stand my presence, at least until thirty minutes ago, when I’m pretty sure he slut-shamed me for dancing with a guy for the first time in my life while months ago I’ve driven my son away from us because I still can’t process the grief over my wife dying and he still isn’t speaking to me.”
Eddie would laugh if he wasn’t tempted to bend over from the pain over his fucking shoulders; he would chortle at the stunned silence from God and one of his minions if he could think about anything else other than how pathetic his life is.
“Eddie,” the priest says, and it’s compassionate. “I’m sorry you’re going through so much.” It’s genuine, and Eddie can’t be mad at it. So he lets a tear or two get out instead, he figures God can do him the favor of still keeping his eyes away from him.
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with being who you are and loving who you love. It’s love.”
Eddie looks back at him with surprise he can’t hide, and the priest smiles knowingly at him. “What could possibly be wrong with love?”
“I thought,” he digs his nails in his skin harder, focusing on the little red indents they leave behind. “I always thought, If I suffer. If I get through it, If I shoulder it all. I’ll be- worthy. I’ll get to be happy, at some point. But-”
“You’re worthy by simple virtue of being alive. Eddie,” the priest touches his shoulder. “You deserve to be happy, no conditions or caveats to it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. He looks away from the crescent moons on his skin, from the cross, from the priest. Sees the years of struggling behind him and he feels so tired. “Yeah.”
-----
Eddie turns off his phone and ignores messages from Buck and Hen and Karen, opting instead to stand in front of the mirror when he gets home, razor in hand and eyes sunken under the pale neon lights of the bathroom. Nothing to hide behind anymore, nothing left to face. He’s said it all out loud, flayed open every last corner of his heart he's tried to keep tucked away. He pulls his upper lip down, and shaves.
-----
Eddie calls in sick the next day, Bobby thankfully not asking follow up questions other than offering him simple acceptance. He turns on his phone just because the hope that Chris might reach back to him refuses to die down, fumbling with it when missed calls and text pop up. None from Chris.
He camps out on the couch, remembers he missed Hotshots’ last episode, and with nothing better to do he pulls it up to stream, and watches Alejandro get stabbed in the middle of the day in the middle of the street right in front of Johnny. Well.
He pauses the episode, and he must worry at his lip for more time than he originally planned on spending contemplating what the fuck even is his life, because he’s snapped out of it by insistent knocks on his door.
“Eddie! Eddie, please-” Buck. Of course. Eddie sighs, steadying himself.
“Just use your key,” He calls out. He can sense the hesitation through the door, but a minute passes and then it clicks open, Buck walking in with his uniform on and shoulders hunched. He looks like he hasn’t slept any more than Eddie did.
“Eddie, I’m so sorry-”
“There’s nothing to forgive, you were right.
Buck makes a confused noise, disbelief painting his face. “I was not right at all, I was a fucking asshole, Eds. I was way out of line, I just- I don’t deal well with-”
“Well, I forgive you, then.”
“Eddie.” Buck says it like Eddie punched it out of his sternum. Eddie looks at him.
“I’m really tired, Buck.”
“I know.” Buck deflates, and sits slowly next to him. He circles Eddie’s ankle like he’s looking for a place to tie the other end of the chain and thinks that might be it. “You shaved.”
“Yeah,” Eddie sits back. “Felt like the right time. Shouldn't you be on shift?”
“Asked Bobby to let me slip away for a while when he told us you called in sick. I was worried.”
Eddie hums, holding his knees to his chest but careful not to let his ankle slip from Buck’s grip. “I’m just tired. Was watching tv.”
“Can I watch with you?”
Eddie chuckles, squinting his eyes at him. “How long did Bobby say you could stay away from?”
“Indefinite. Enough to apologize and make sure you were alright.” Buck tightens his hold on him, and instead of answering Eddie nods and presses play again.
They both go still as Johnny rushes to reach a bleeding Alejandro, holding him to himself as ambulance sirens start going off around them and cars screech to a halt and Johnny’s asking Alejandro to stay with him, “Stay with me, don’t leave me-”
Buck’s grip on him is reaching the border of painful, and Eddie really can’t take it anymore. He opens his mouth, and his fears speak.
-----
“It feels like- like I’m just-” Eddie pushes the hair out of his face, expression broken open and letting pain slip out of every line that crinkles around his glistening eyes and his mouth when he lets out a humorless laugh that is more of a shaky breath exhaled to empty his lungs and crumple in on himself. “Do you even like me for me?”
“I love you for you.”
Eddie chokes on a bitter laugh that trips into a single sob, pressing the back of his thumbs into his eyes and Buck feels his chest cave down when the sudden silence broken by the episode still going on fills with a harsh breath and Eddie is crying. He’s hunching down to rest his elbows on his knees to make himself a parenthesis opening on a devastating, barely-thought-of-weight and he’s crying.
“Eddie,” he whispers, moving his hand across the uncharted space of Eddie’s body through the debris of what remains of his own ribs and his own lungs crushed under the hurt of this person he loves so much he doesn’t know how to make it fit into the palm of his hands without the urge to squeeze it tight to keep it there, too afraid of just existing in the knowledge that it might just want to stay. “Eddie.”
We can’t just call you Eddie. Buck grabs Eddie by the sides of his neck, his fingers threading through the hair at his nape and holding on, tugging as softly as the way his heart keeps beating faster to lift up and out of the way the pieces of his bones blocking its way to Eddie will allow him, and there they are- Eddie’s big, brown eyes wet with tears clinging to his eyelashes and Buck swallows with the knowledge that he’s never seen anyone else hold beauty in the midst of every emotion under the sun as Eddie does.
“Eddie.” How many times has he said his name over the years? Not enough, not enough to drown in it, in him, the way he’s longed to do for so long, hiding behind the awe at having Eddie exist and be real and be here in the first place. Eddie blinks and a muscle in his jaw twitches and his lips tremble and Buck ends up with his brow pressed to his left cheek, the closest he can get to supplicating while pressing their bodies together.
And then Eddie’s phone rings, and they both snap their heads towards its place on the coffee table. Sophia.
-----
Eddie turns and hiccups through another sob, trying to stifle it down as Buck puts both hands on his stomach and draws him back to rest against his chest. Eddie goes along easily like he's always done when it comes to Buck and the panic at what's happening gets swallowed by the panic of Sophia calling and speaking as soon as he accepts the call.
“You're my big brother,” she says, and Eddie knows Buck can hear her through the phone as well. “You're my big brother and you raised me, and I know you, Eddie.”
“Sophia,” he stammers. “Soph, what's wrong? Are you okay? Is Chris okay?”
“Chris is fine, Eddie.” It's Adriana answering, and Eddie registers the way their voices sound a little far away, realizing they must be on speaker. He whips his head around to stare at Buck who's already looking at him, the same concern reflected on his face.
“Adri? What the hell is going on?”
“Our mother has lost the goddamn plot and I'm sick of her bad-mouthing you at every turn!”
Eddie feels it like a stab through the chest.
“Sophia, calm down, let me- Hermano,” there's some rustling over the line before she speaks again. “You didn't tell mom you wanted Chris to go to school here, did you?”
It's Buck that sits up, jostling Eddie as well. “What? Absolutely fucking not. I haven't spoken to our mother properly in weeks, she keeps cutting me off.”
“I knew it. She's gone crazy trying to redeem herself or whatever she thinks she's doing through Chris, and it's gotta stop, Eddie. I caught her saying that to Chris earlier this morning.”
Buck curses and Eddie gasps a quiet oh, and he feels so- so sad. He doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why his mother hates him this much.
“For the longest time I thought it was just dad who- who didn't like me,” he can hear his sisters hold their breaths and Buck closes his hand to grip his shirt in a tight fist. “I didn't think mom would hate me this much. I know I've fucked up so many times, but-”
“Our mother failing us and going insane trying to make amends with life, or God, or whatever she sees as a giver of second chances isn't on you, Eddie.”
“Chris is mine. He's my son.”
“He is. Eddie, come get him.”
“I don't want to force him, he'll just hate me more than he already does-”
And then it happens, and he has to pry Buck's fingers open to hold his hand desperately tight. Buck grips it back with just as much desperation.
His kid’s voice sounds a little deeper but still small, and the hesitant “Dad?” cutting through the line makes Eddie break down crying again.
"Mijo,” he tries to dial it back and keep it together, and Buck moves to hug him around his chest instead, burying his face in the crook of his neck. “I'm so sorry, I love you so much-”
“I don't hate you,” Chris whispers back. “Did you really- not tell grandma that about school?”
“I swear I didn't,” he can hear Adriana and Sophia trying to comfort Chris and he hates the thought of his baby in any kind of distress and so far away from him. “I never have. I was waiting to hear from you.”
“I thought, I thought you told grandma and- I would like.” Chris's soft voice falters. “To come home. If you can come get me.”
“I'm coming right now,” Eddie reassures him. “I'll get on the first flight. Buck-” Eddie doesn't know how much more in love they can get with each other considering the fact that he doesn't even stop to ponder if Buck might actually consider not coming. “Buck will come too.” He feels him nod, face still buried in his neck and lips pressing against his skin. Eddie shivers, bringing a hand up to touch his curls.
“Okay.”
“Okay. We'll see you soon.”
“He's staying at mine for the day, hermano. Update us on what flight you'll catch and we'll take it from there.” Sophia says.
“Thank you. Thank you, niñas.”
“We love you, big brother. See you soon.”
The call clicks off, and their breaths are the only thing bouncing off the walls for a while.
When Buck breaks the seal of silence it's with the clear shape of a kiss on his neck and Eddie's brain reboots. Restarts. Shuts off and turns on again. Oh shit, this is real. It's happening.
“Did Bobby just.” Buck can't keep still, taking Eddie with him each time he squirms. “Talk about us to the Hotshots crew the whole time?”
It startles a laugh out of Eddie, a type of laugh he hasn't had the pleasure of experiencing in a long time, he realizes. It leaves him lighter, and it's the kind of light he's only ever felt with his best friend. Who he's in love with. And who might-
“It's pretty uncanny. Might just have to call you Jones in front of him to see his reaction.”
Buck chuckles softly and then he goes quiet again; quiet in a Buck-way, always restless be it with a jingling leg or his thoughts loud enough to be heard without him even having to speak. But maybe that's just because they're Buck-and-Eddie and they're wired to work this way.
“I'm sorry if I assumed-”
“Eddie, of course I'm coming. We'll take a moment and then call Bobby and then look at flights. You didn't assume anything, it was never a question.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“No,” Buck puts a hand on his jaw, turning him around so they're so close their noses almost brush; Eddie forgoes the raft and jumps straight into the blue of his eyes. “Thank you, Eddie. For- for giving me a family. And-”
“I don't handle it well when- other people have your attention. I never have. That's what I wanted to say earlier. It's been brought to my attention that I go a little insane when you're concerned and I'm not concerned in regards to your concern.”
“You’re concerning,” Eddie says nonsensically to make Buck laugh, and he does.
“God, I am. I'm also in love with you. In case the overall insanity since I was first lucky enough to lay eyes on you wasn't clue enough.”
Eddie tears up again, and maybe he hasn't actually had enough of crying for this lifetime if the tears feel like molten happiness. He can learn to live with crying if it's happy crying.
“In case the overall breakdown wasn't clue enough, I've been in lo- wait, oh my God. What about Tommy?”
Buck groans, face-planting nose first into Eddie's cheek. “Did you seriously interrupt yourself telling me you're in love with me for the first time to ask about my ex?”
Eddie giggles and he would be embarrassed about it if Buck wasn't sneaking a hand under his shirt to lay it flat on the arch of his back, pushing him up so that he's basically in his lap.
“Excuse me for not being omniscient and worrying about your state of being.”
“How dare you not be omniscient about me? Last night Tommy was one of the people bringing to my attention the fact that I'm insane about you. The other being Hen. He said it's been fun but he always knew it was a matter of time.”
The hand on Eddie's back pushes him down until they're chest to chest and Buck looks- he looks like he can't quite believe he's here, actually. “Tell me, please.”
Eddie puts both his hands on his face, thumbs tracing circles on his skin. “I'm in love with you.”
Buck goes pliant under him, exhaling hard like he's relieved, like he's just heard a piece of news brought by the archangel Gabriel in the flesh and can't quite take it all in except for closing his eyes, opening his legs wider to balance Eddie better, and nuzzling his face up in a silent request that sounds pretty loud to Eddie's own waiting lips. He traces Buck's with a thumb and learns down to meet him halfway- and then their noses bump, and they laugh and their teeth clank together and with a finger under his chin Eddie goes to the right and Buck to the left, and it's like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning, and coming home, and laying out in the sun on an autumn day all at once.
When they part Eddie straightens up with his hands on Buck's chest to reach his birthmark and leave a kiss there as well. Buck's breath hitches, and Eddie matches him when Buck leaves a kiss of his own on the hollow of his throat. Eddie looks down and Buck looks up, and it's right. Nothing has ever felt so right.
“Let's go get our boy,” Eddie says.
-----
They're holding hands and waiting to board their plane when Buck gasps and nudges Eddie, putting his phone up to his face so that Eddie can see the tweet reporting a headline about- “Eds, look at this!”
“Hotshots makes history with queer tv representation,” Eddie reads, and looks down to see a picture of Alejandro and Johnny kissing. He bursts out laughing and Buck preens.
“We'll have to finish the episode when we can.”
“Mmh. Look at that,” he says, swaying like the big kid at heart he is. Eddie is helpless to do anything but smile back at him. “We end up together in every universe.”
-----
To Bobby (14:00 pm)
Hotshots, uh?
Bobby (14:10 pm)
Great pick, right?
Bobby (14:11 pm)
Then again, my picking abilities have always been top-notch.