Archive of Our Own ^beta

1.

Buck strolls into Christopher’s classroom, scanning the space like it’s his first time in an elementary school in decades. Tiny chairs, low tables, and cubbies with names scrawled in rainbow markers line the walls. The whole room screams childhood, and Buck feels a pang of nostalgia for something he can’t quite name— it’s not like he was ever fond of school as a kid.

He settles into a chair that’s definitely not built for his six-foot-three frame and makes his knees feel ridiculous, trying to look casual as he checks his watch. The chair creaks, and he freezes, glancing around to make sure no one notices. He’s trying really hard not to think about what’ll happen if it gives out entirely.

This isn’t Buck’s first parent-teacher rodeo. Eddie’s schedule is just as unpredictable as his own, so Buck’s stepped in before whenever he could— dropping off projects, chatting with staff at school events, and chaperoning a field trip or two. But this is the first time he’s officially here for a conference. For some reason, it feels bigger.

The classroom smells faintly of dry-erase markers and lemon disinfectant, and there’s a colorful poster on the wall that reads, ‘Mistakes Are Proof You’re Learning!’

Buck stares at it like it has all the answers to life. Maybe it does.

Mrs. Potter walks in a few moments later, clipboard in hand, wearing a warm smile and one of those scarves that makes her look like she’s auditioning for Dead Poets Society. She has the kind of energy that makes you want to sit up straighter and maybe buy some flashcards.

“Hi, there! You must be Mr. Buckley.” She offers her hand, and Buck stands to shake it, his palms are clammy, and he tries to dry them on his jeans as subtly as possible.

“Just Buck, please. Mr. Buckley makes me sound like I’m about to audit your taxes.”

“Are you a tax auditor?”

“No.”

Mrs. Potter grins, sitting down and flipping open a file. “Great to meet you, Just Buck. Thanks for coming in today. I know your partner Mr. Diaz usually handles these meetings.”

“Yeah, Eddie wanted to be here, but work came up,” Buck says. “He said to tell you he’s sorry and that I’d take good notes. He even threatened to quiz me later, which feels a little harsh if you ask me.”

She chuckles, clearly charmed, and gestures for him to sit. “Well, it’s great to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you from Christopher.”

Buck raises an eyebrow as he settles back into his chair. Why does this feel like he’s being interviewed for a job he didn’t apply for? “You have? All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, certainly,” she says with an easy smile. “It’s clear how much you and Mr. Diaz care about Christopher. He’s lucky to have both dads so involved in his life.”

Buck blinks, his easy smile faltering for half a second. Both dads. The words slam into Buck’s brain like a fire truck hitting a low bridge. His first instinct is to correct her, to say something like, Oh, I’m not— but then Mrs. Potter looks at him with this soft, approving expression, like she’s just told him he’s doing something right. And honestly? It feels nice.

“Oh,” he says, scrambling for something—anything—to say. “Well, yeah, Eddie’s a great dad. The best, really. Gold standard, you know?”

Mrs. Potter looks at him kindly, her head tilted just so, like she’s speaking to someone who doesn’t quite get it. “It’s obvious how much you both care. Christopher talks about you two all the time— it’s clear he feels very supported.”

Buck freezes, his mouth half-open like a fish. She knows Eddie is Chris’s dad, but she thinks so am I.

He should correct her. He really should. It’s not that weird for a single dad to have a close friend who helps out, right? That’s all he is— a close friend. And that’s totally normal. But here’s the thing— he doesn’t want to correct her at all, because she’s looking at him with an expression that belies her approval. She thinks Buck is Chris’s second dad, and she thinks he’s doing all right by him. And that right there… it feels right. Like this is just how things are supposed to be; he’s been to this school a million times, the secretary knows him by name. He’s signed permission slips, dropped off forgotten lunches, and attended more events than most actual parents.

Buck blinks. Oh God, am I accidentally co-parenting? And even that thought feels good.

So good that Buck’s face breaks into an easy grin as he leans forward slightly, folding his hands on the tiny table. “That’s because he is— both loved and supported. Incredibly so. I mean, Chris is such a great kid. Makes it easy to show up for him.”

Mrs. Potter nods, flipping open a folder with Christopher’s name neatly typed on the tab. “He truly is. And he’s doing wonderfully this semester— positively thriving. His science teacher mentioned how much he’s been participating in class discussions. He’s doing wonders in English and History. And while math isn’t his favorite, he’s been making steady progress.”

Buck relaxes, nodding along as she outlines Christopher’s strengths and areas for growth. He’s so proud of the kid. He even scribbles a few notes on the notepad Eddie shoved into his hands that morning.

“Christopher’s empathy is one of his strongest traits,” Mrs. Potter adds. “He’s always looking out for his classmates. That’s something he clearly gets from you and Mr. Diaz.”

There it is again. You and Mr. Diaz. A tiny surge of electricity zaps through Buck’s bloodstream, and he can feel the corners of his mouth tugging into a smile, almost involuntarily. He doesn’t know why it makes him so happy, but it does.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Eddie and I— we try to set a good example for him.”

Mrs. Potter beams. “Well, it’s working wonderfully. You should both be proud.”

Buck’s grin widens impossibly and he nods, “We are.”

The rest of the meeting goes smoothly, with Mrs. Potter sharing insights and Buck chiming in with anecdotes about Christopher’s boundless curiosity and love for building things. By the end of it, he feels like he’s aced a test he didn’t know he was taking.

//

Buck steps into Eddie’s house, kicking the door shut with his heel while juggling his car keys, notepad, and the travel mug Eddie handed him that morning. The faint hum of the TV filters in from the living room, accompanied by the unmistakable clatter of Christopher’s LEGO bricks.

He follows the sound, finding Eddie sprawled on the couch, one arm resting on the back while the other holds the remote in a lazy grip. Christopher sits on the recliner, deeply focused on constructing a spaceship, surrounded by what looks like an exploded toy store.

“Hey, Buck!” Christopher calls out without looking up, his concentration laser-sharp.

“Hey, buddy.” Buck ruffles Christopher’s hair on his way to the couch, tossing the notepad onto Eddie’s lap with a flourish. “Mission accomplished. Detailed notes, as requested.”

Eddie grabs the notepad, glancing at it with a skeptical brow raised. “Did you seriously doodle little rockets in the margins again?”

“No!” Buck says, scandalized. “This is professional work. Mrs. Potter practically gave me an A-plus in parental involvement.” He plops down on the couch, stretching his legs out and making himself at home like he always does.

Eddie flips through the notes, nodding slightly. “Not bad. You might’ve passed the test.”

“I’m telling you,” Buck says, leaning back and throwing an arm over the back of the couch. “Mrs. Potter was eating it up. She even called us a ‘great team.’”

Eddie smirks, glancing sideways. “We are a great team.”

“Yeah, well, she also thinks we’re married.”

Eddie freezes, the remote hovering mid-air. Slowly, he turns to Buck, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“You heard me,” Buck says, his grin going lopsided. “Apparently, you and I are co-dads extraordinaire. Very progressive, very modern. I didn’t correct her because, you know, why ruin the magic?”

Eddie groans, dropping his head back against the couch. “Why didn’t you just tell her we’re not—”

“I tried!” Buck defends, holding his hands up. “But then she said something about how great it is that Christopher has two dads who care so much, and honestly? She looked so proud of us, Ed. I couldn’t do it. I panicked.”

“Panicked?” Eddie echoes, giving him a flat look. “This is you being panicked?”

“Hey, I can be smooth and panicked,” Buck quips, pointing at himself with mock indignation. “I’m a multi-faceted guy.”

Christopher pipes up from the recliner, still not looking up from his spaceship. “Mrs. Potter thinks you’re my dad now, Buck?”

“Apparently.”

“That’s cool,” Christopher says casually. “She probably thinks you’re better at math than Dad.”

Eddie groans again, louder this time, while Buck cackles, slapping his thigh.

“Traitor,” Eddie mutters at his son, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m just saying,” Christopher adds with a shrug, carefully attaching a wing to his LEGO creation. “You use your calculator for everything, Dad. Even stuff you should already know.”

“Like what?”

“Like how much change we need at the grocery store,” Christopher says, finally looking up with a smirk eerily similar to Eddie’s.

Eddie shoots him a mock glare. “I’m being ganged up on in my own house. Unbelievable.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Buck says, hands up. “I’m just here delivering the news. Speaking of which—” He turns serious, leaning in slightly. “Chris is doing great. Mrs. Potter said he’s been super engaged in science class, and his math’s improving. She really loves his empathy and how he looks out for his classmates.”

Eddie’s expression softens, his annoyance fading instantly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, nodding. “She’s proud of him. And so are we.”

Something flickers across Eddie’s face— something warm and grateful and maybe a little surprised. He looks down at the notepad again, running his thumb over the edge of the paper. “Thanks for going,” Eddie says after a beat, his voice quieter now. “Seriously. You didn’t have to, but you always show up.”

Buck shrugs, feeling a little shy under Eddie’s gaze. “Of course, Eds. I’m Chris’s other dad, and you know I’ve got your back. Always.”

Eddie looks at him for a moment too long, like he’s trying to say something else but doesn’t know how. Finally, he clears his throat and nods toward Christopher. “You hungry? Chris was just asking what we’re doing for dinner.”

“I could eat,” Buck says, breaking the moment and standing up. “How about pizza? No one’s ever sad with pizza.”

“Sold,” Christopher says immediately, holding up his hand like he’s about to vote on it.

“Pizza it is,” Eddie says, pushing off the couch and heading toward the kitchen for his phone.

Buck watches him go, a smile tugging at his lips. This house, this family, this life— it feels right in a way he can’t explain.

Both dads, he thinks again, and this time, it doesn’t feel weird at all.

—

2.

The faint strains of live music drift across the outdoor venue. The parking lot, decorated with string lights, buzzes with arriving guests in everything from classic suits to floral dresses as Buck and Eddie step out of the car, dressed to the nines— the former in a midnight blue suit, and the latter in a charcoal grey ensemble. Eddie fiddles with the cuffs for the hundredth time like they’re about to strangle him, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I still don’t understand why we’re going to this,” he mutters as Buck locks the car. “It’s not like Hen would’ve minded if I skipped. I mean, the bride is Hen’s cousin, you know her from when she worked at the firehouse one summer years ago, whereas I’ve never even met her.”

“Yeah, well, she’s her baby cousin and Hen wanted all of us there.”

“Then why are we the only ones here?”

“That’s because Chim and Maddie, and Bobby and Athena are all cowards and bailed at the last minute. Without telling us. And we ended up drawing the short straw. Besides, Hen specifically said we needed to be here,” Buck reminds him, holding up his phone and shaking it. “She even sent a follow-up text: ‘If you and Eddie bail, you’re dead to me.’ Your call, Eds.”

Eddie groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, fine. But why did we have to come together?”

“Because the planet is dying and we need to reduce our carbon footprint, and also, neither of us had a date,” Buck says matter-of-factly, adjusting his tie in the car window, when he catches his reflection. “And everyone knows weddings are more fun with a plus one.”

“Oh God, you’re really sticking with the tie?”

“What’s wrong with my tie?” Buck asks, straightening it dramatically. It’s a bold red, a stark contrast against his white shirt. “It’s sexy.”

“It’s loud,” Eddie retorts, walking around to meet him.

“Wow, that’s rich coming from the guy whose tie is beige. Beige, Eddie. If you were going for bland accountant chic, then congratulations— you nailed it.” Buck grins, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Some of us prefer to look like adults at a wedding, not walking disco balls.”

“It’s called having personality, you should try it sometime,” Buck fires back, pulling at the lapels of his suit jacket. He pauses then, giving Eddie a once-over, “You do clean up nice, though. Like, really nice. You look good. If I were you, I’d keep this look in rotation.”

Eddie snorts but doesn’t reply.

The wedding venue is stunning— rows of white chairs set up on a manicured lawn, a floral arch at the front framing a view of a shimmering lake. Guests are milling around, chatting in clusters as soft music plays in the background.

“Oh wow,” Buck says, looking around. “Hen wasn’t kidding when she said this was going to be fancy. They’ve got a live band and everything. This is way fancier than your cousin’s wedding.”

Eddie glares. “She had a budget.”

“She had folding chairs,” Buck points out, then quickly changes the subject when Eddie looks like he might deck him.

They find their seats near the back, settling in just as the ceremony begins, close enough to hear the vows but far enough that Eddie can complain too loudly without offending anyone. About five minutes in, Buck leans closer to Eddie, his breath warm against his ear. “Is it just me, or does this officiant sound like the guy from the mattress commercials?”

Eddie bites back a laugh, glaring at him. “You’re imagining it.”

“I swear,” Buck whispers, his voice filled with barely contained glee. “‘For a love so comfortable, you’ll sleep like never before.’”

Eddie's shoulders shake with the effort to hold his laugh in.

When the vows finally begin, Buck watches the couple with a soft smile. He loves weddings— the joy, the romance, the sense of possibility in the air. He glances at Eddie, who’s leaning back in his chair, looking mildly bored but also… content.

“Hey,” Buck whispers.

“What?” Eddie asks, turning his head.

“Did someone cry at your wedding? Who was it?”

Eddie smiles, fond and forlorn, “My Abuela and sisters.”

“Of course,” Buck nods sagely, then adds, a teasing edge in his voice, “You think anyone will cry at the next one?”

Eddie snorts. “Probably you, considering how much you cry at these things.”

“That’s true. I’m a sucker for a good love story, and knowing you, you’ll have the best one.”

Eddie’s gaze lingers on him for a second longer than necessary, something unspoken passing between them before he looks away. The ceremony carries on beautifully, if a little too long for Eddie’s taste.

“You okay over there?” Buck whispers, leaning toward him as the officiant starts the second reading.

“I’ve been to shorter movies.”

“You’re fidgeting,” Buck points out with a grin. “You nervous about catching the bouquet or something?”

Eddie shoots him a glare but doesn’t answer, which Buck takes as a victory.

When the couple finally shares their first kiss as newlyweds, Eddie lets out an audible sigh of relief, clapping a little harder than necessary. Buck laughs, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.” But there’s a fondness in his tone that makes Eddie’s palms clammy.

The reception is pure chaos from the start. The sprawling white tent is a masterpiece of wedding aesthetics— string lights crisscrossing overhead, tables adorned with lush floral arrangements, and a dance floor that’s already calling Buck’s name. It’s also packed with guests milling around tables decorated with fresh flowers and candles. A live band plays soft jazz as waiters weave through the crowd with trays of champagne.

Buck grabs two glasses, handing one to Eddie as they make their way to their assigned table. “See? Not so bad, right? Fancy drinks, good vibes, free food. It’s practically a firehouse potluck but with better lighting.”

Eddie takes a sip, scanning the crowd. “And about a thousand more people.”

“Just think of it as a team-building exercise.”

“What team?” Eddie mutters.

“Wildcats.”

Eddie doesn’t even get the opportunity to be appalled. They’re interrupted by an older man with a drink in his hand and a warm smile on his face. “You two make such a beautiful pair,” he says, nodding approvingly.

“Sorry, sir, what do you—” Buck starts, but the man cuts him off.

“No, no, don’t be shy, son, be proud, be brave. Freedom to love like this didn’t come easy back in my day,” he says, wagging a finger. “It’s refreshing to see a couple of men like you be free like this. I’m proud of you.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that, so he settles for blinking owlishly. Eddie, patron saint of rescues, steps in. “Thank you, sir, we’ll hold onto that. You take it easy now, alright?” Then he very politely excuses both him and Buck, and steers him toward their table.

As soon as they’re out of earshot, Buck turns to Eddie. “Did you just thank him?”

“Seemed easier than engaging him in further conversation,” Eddie replies, shrugging.

“Great. Now he probably expects us to slow dance to John Legend.”

Eddie smirks. “Better brush up on your waltz, then.”

Their table is in the corner, with a great view of the dance floor, and—most unfortunately—seats Hen and Karen, as well. The pair of them are watching Buck and Eddie with matching grins and hawlike gazes, like the twins from the Shining, except these two are wives.

“So,” Hen begins before they’ve even sat down, her smile far too innocent to be genuine. “You two have been here all of one hour and already you’re making waves. I keep getting asked questions about you two, and how long you’ve been together.”

Karen, not missing a beat, adds, “And also really vague ones; like who asked who out, who fell first, who fell harder— it’s a little unsettling, actually.”

"Yeah? Well, think of how I feel." Buck mutters, and is largely ignored.

“You know what, though? I think Eddie probably asked Buck out, because Buck’s too chicken to do it,” Hen says, as though the people in question aren’t sitting right in front of them. “But I think Buck definitely fell first and he fell harder.”

Karen nods sagely, in complete agreement, and gently clink her glass against Hen’s.

Eddie's brows, however, furrow. "And where am I in this equation? A cold, unloving, and unfeeling bastard?"

Before Buck can say a word, a group of teenage girls approaches the table, their phones out and smiles bright. “Hi, guys!” one of them chirps. “So sorry to interrupt, but we’re doing a video for the bride and groom, and we were wondering if you’d like to be a part of it.”

Karen smiles warmly, “Hi, girls. What kind of video?”

“So we’re going around, asking couples for marriage or relationship advice,” a redhead with a septum piercing adds. “And you guys are so cute, and have obviously been together for a while, and we think you definitely have some wisdom to share with the happy couple. What do you say?”

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you,” Hen smiles as she gently brushes a lock of Karen’s hair over her shoulder, “What do you say, honey? What advice do we have for Malia and Joshua?”

The girls practically melt into a puddle as Karen leans her forehead against Hen’s temple for half a second, and says, "I do have some advice,” the girls are quick to fire up their phones and start recording. Karen loops her fingers through her wife’s and says, “Never let your issues be bigger than your love. Forgive when you can, trust and respect your partner. And always support your spouse in whatever they want to do and understand that people will grow and change. In a nutshell: embrace not impede, love not own, respect not control.”

Hen smiles, nods along. After a beat, she says, “Marriage is just all about ups and downs. When it's up, cherish it, celebrate it, appreciate it. And when it gets down, just remember why you married them in the first place. Go back to your wedding songs and play them loud and clear. Remember that it’s a give and take, and one person can’t and shouldn't have to do everything. Tell your spouse you love them every single day, even when you’re mad— especially then. And most of all— date your spouse. Really.”

A soft silence follows Hen’s words. Karen just holds her hand tighter and presses a tiny kiss to her temple, and one of the girls wipes her nose with the back of her hand, gaze sliding over to Buck and Eddie. The phone swivels towards them instantly, “And what about you guys? What advice would you give to the newlyweds?”

Oh, right. They think Buck and Eddie are together— probably even married. This is awkward. Buck doesn't have any advice, and he doesn't want to keep on pretending anymore. So he opens his mouth to correct them, but Eddie’s hand lands on his shoulder. It’s just for a second, a touch so brief it could be missed— there one second, gone the next. There's a pause— Buck catches Eddie's eyes, and those endless honey-golden pools reflect nothing but Eddie's turmoil, and Buck takes three mental steps back.

Eddie has something to say, and Buck let's him say it— of course he does.

“Marriage is... the most demanding kind of commitment,” he says, his voice steady but distant, like he’s halfway somewhere else. “It’s not what people think. It’s not like in the movies all the time. It's not waking up early every morning to make breakfast together. It’s not cuddling every night until you fall asleep in each other’s arms. It’s not spotless counters, or a hot meal on the stove every day.”

His eyes flicker, like he’s looking back a decade— to a different life, to a different version of himself. “It’s someone who steals all the covers. It’s sometimes slammed doors, a few harsh words, disagreement, and the silent treatment until your hearts heal. Then, it’s forgiveness, because of course it is. It’s coming home to someone who loves you and cares about you— not in spite of who you are, but because of it. It’s laughing for months, even years, about the one time you did something incredibly stupid.”

Hen chuckles softly, and Buck feels his own face break into a grin. But then Eddie’s gaze drifts to him, and time seems to freeze. Buck’s laughter catches in his chest. Eddie’s eyes are fixed on him— intense, unwavering, as if he’s about to say something too honest to take back.

And he does. “It’s dirty laundry and forgetting to take the trash out, and not keeping score. It’s helping each other through the mess of life. It’s knowing when to bite your tongue. It’s about eating the cheapest and easiest meal you can make at 12 a.m. because you both had a crazy long day.”

Buck can’t breathe, he really can’t. Because every word is deliberate, and every word is for him. He knows it. He can see their life—his and Eddie’s—flash behind his eyes like a film reel: late-night dinners after shifts that ran too long, silent comfort, quiet laughter, Christopher between them.

And still, Eddie isn’t done, “It’s when you break down in the middle of the night on a random Wednesday, and there’s someone holding you like the world isn’t ending. It’s hearing ‘I’m here, everything’s going to be okay’ and actually believing it because your person said it, because they're here. It’s sitting on the couch with a kid between you, watching TV until someone snores. It’s about still loving your person even though sometimes they make you absolutely insane.”

His knee knocks briefly against Buck’s under the table, and Buck crashes back down to Earth. He blinks, clears his throat, and very pointedly does not make eye contact with anyone except for the placemat on the table, and says, “Wow… that, uh… tough act to follow, thanks, Eds,” that earns him a ripple of laughter across the table, but it fades just as quick; everyone’s listening intently, “I’m, uh… not married, never even got close, so I don't know much about it. But I’ve seen what works, and what doesn’t. And I think love isn’t just the big moments, or the picture-perfect stuff. I think it’s about… just being there. Not because you have to, but because there’s nowhere else you’d rather be, and no one else you'd rather be with.”

His voice catches just a little, but he clears his throat and keeps going.

“It’s knowing how they take their coffee without having to think at all. It’s knowing when they need space, and when they really don’t. It’s sitting in silence that doesn’t feel heavy. It’s getting to know someone so well that their habits, their moods, the way they laugh— those things just become part of your day.”

There’s a pause. Then Buck glances over at Eddie, like he doesn’t mean to, but can’t help it, and looks away just as quickly. “It’s seeing the worst parts of someone and never flinching, not even once, and being seen the same way. It’s making space for the other person to be human, and sticking around when they are.”

His voice drops, quieter now. “But mostly, I think love is knowing you’d do anything for that one person. Even if they never ask you to, even if they never know.”

A hush settles around their table. Hen watches him with something unreadable in her eyes, and Karen's smiling that suspicious little smile that tells Buck he's given away way more than he intended. He wonders if Eddie's caught on yet.

One of the girls murmurs a soft, “Wow, that— that was... amazing.”

Buck shifts in his seat, then with a small, self-deprecating laugh, says, “But hey, I’m just the guy who’s crashed on a lot of couches and learned a lot of lessons the hard way. Take my advice with a grain of salt.”

The blonde with the finger tattoos smiles softly at all of them and holds up a pastel blue Polaroid camera, “You guys are all awesome. Do you guys want pictures together? Wedding favor.”

Hen and Karen both chime in immediately, “Yes.”

Eddie leans in toward Buck, head tilted, arm slipping casually around his shoulders. “Please, click away.”

“You’re all enjoying this way too much,” Buck says flatly, as the girls hand out Polaroids of each “couple” before wandering off to find their next victims.

Eddie smirks. “Just a little.”

Later, as they’re grabbing dessert, two elderly women at the buffet line take one look at Buck piling chocolate truffles onto Eddie’s plate and launch into full-on doting grandma mode.

“Ah, young love,” one of them sighs, clutching her pearls. “You remind me of my Harold and me back in the day.”

Buck opens his mouth, but the other woman cuts him off. “What’s your secret, dears? Good communication? Or is it all about keeping the spark alive?”

“Uh…” Buck stammers, glancing helplessly at Eddie.

“Never go to bed angry,” Eddie says, perfectly straight-faced as he grabs a fork.

The women beam, nodding sagely.

“Treasure each other, be good to each other, and above all, be loyal and respectful. You two’ll go far, I just know it,” one of them says, patting Buck on the cheek. “Such a handsome pair.”

As they walk back to their table, Buck shakes his head. “Did you just give marriage advice to two strangers?”

“Technically, they gave us marriage advice. I was just answering their question,” Eddie replies.

“‘Don’t go to bed angry,’” Buck mimics, his voice full of mock seriousness. “What are we, in a rom-com?”

Eddie smirks. “If the shoe fits.”

The comments keep coming throughout the night.

“Oh, it’s so sweet how you let him pick all the food for the table,” one woman says to Eddie after watching Buck load their plates— more than half of which Buck will eat by himself, Eddie knows this, but he's not in the business of telling other people about it.

“I like to let him feel useful,” he deadpans, without blinking an eye.

Buck laughs, loud and incredulous. “Unbelievable.”

Later, during a photo op, Buck reaches up to loosen Eddie’s tie (mostly so he doesn’t look quite as much like a stressed-out tax accountant). As he fusses with the knot and Eddie glares at him, the photographer coos. “You two are just the picture of love. Truly inspiring.”

When Eddie hands Buck a napkin without being asked, an older woman at the next table smiles warmly. “Oh, I love seeing couples who know each other so well. It’s inspiring, really.”

By the time cake is served, they’re barely reacting, shrugging off the comments like second nature.

Hen notices, of course. “Wow,” she says, leaning back in her chair. “You guys aren’t even pretending to deny it anymore. Did we miss the declaration, or are you saving those for the proposal?”

Buck sighs, pointing at her with his fork. “I think you’re enjoying this too much.”

“Guilty as charged,” Hen replies, grinning.

Karen jumps in, smirking at Eddie. “In all seriousness, though, are you two, like... living together? Because, if I'm being honest, that’s exactly the vibe you’re giving off right now.”

“I mean…” Eddie trails off, his brow furrowing like he’s thinking about it. “He has a drawer full of socks in my dresser, so technically, we’re already half-married.”

Karen freezes mid-sip, Hen’s jaw drops, and Buck nearly chokes on his drink.

“Wait— I have a what?” he sputters, eyes wide.

Eddie shrugs, completely nonchalant. “What? You leave your stuff everywhere. It’s easier to just keep it organized. You think your clothes magically show up at my house whenever you stay over?”

“A drawer full of socks?” Hen repeats, delight sparking in her eyes. “That’s it. I’m bumping up the timeline on my ‘when-they-finally-figure-it-out’ pool.”

“There’s a pool?” Buck asks, his voice pitching up in disbelief. “A betting pool?”

“Of course there is,” Hen says, smirking. “You two are the world’s most boring people. We’re just trying to keep it interesting. But you don’t need to worry about it, just keep doing what you’re doing. Married life suits you.”

“You’re evil,” Buck tells her.

“Relax,” Karen says, smiling. “We’re just saying— if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…”

“We are not a duck,” Buck mumbles into his champagne, and Hen nearly chokes on hers.

Later, as the night winds down, Hen and Karen leave for family photos, and Buck and Eddie share a quiet moment at their table, splitting a plate of leftover desserts.

“You know,” Buck says, watching Eddie pick through the plate for his favorites. “If we’re half-married, does that mean I get veto power over your tie collection?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “You have zero veto power.”

“Not even for the beige tie?” Buck leans in, teasing. “Because, honey, it’s a little tragic.”

Eddie glares at him but can’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky you’re good at dancing, or I’d kick you out of the house entirely.”

Buck grins. “Oh, as if. You’d miss me too much.”

Eddie meets his eyes, and holds his gaze for a beat too long. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I would.”

—

3.

The heat from the summer sun is unbearable as Buck and Eddie roll into the parking lot of the grocery store, the sun blazing overhead like a spotlight on a stage. Eddie's been talking about how they need to get a few things for the BBQ, but now, as he stares at the shopping list on his phone, he looks like he's about to fight in a war.

Buck is no better. He peruses the list over Eddie's shoulder with disdain as they step out of the truck. "I hope you have an actual plan for this, because from where I'm standing, this is insane." He points at the item list. "I mean, seven different kinds of meat for a barbecue? Three crates of soda? Are we feeding a battalion or a small village?”

"We’re feeding firefighters, Buck, firefighters. You already know they always eat like they haven’t seen food in days.” Eddie says, smiling impishly as he leads the way toward the store entrance. "And I think we’re missing something important—"

"Yeah, like a second mortgage for all that meat you’re planning on buying?" Buck says, cutting him off. "Because I swear, we could fund an entire year's worth of meals with what you’re thinking of carting out of here."

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head. "You're so dramatic."

"That’s literally my job.” Buck gives him a playful shove, and they head inside.

The store isn’t as crowded as it could be for a weekend afternoon, but the energy’s still high. People are darting between aisles, grabbing what they need in a rush, like they’re preparing for the apocalypse, others leisurely strolling with their carts. The sound of squeaky wheels rolling over the floor mixes with the occasional hum of the overhead speakers, and the air smells like fresh bread.

Buck’s already eyeing the snack aisle, tempted by the chips on display.

“Hey, Earth to Evan Buckley, quit getting distracted by your weird snack aisle fantasies already.”

“Chips are essential,” Buck counters, already veering off toward the snack aisle. “They make everything better. Trust me.”

Eddie follows him, shaking his head in disbelief. “The Chip King is at it again.” He takes his phone out again, squinting at the list. “Anyway, we need burgers, buns, condiments— oh, and definitely get the fancy mustard. Not the cheap stuff. The cheap stuff’s for rookies.”

“I am not getting fancy mustard,” Buck replies, grabbing a bottle of the cheapest one he can find. “It’s not a ‘mustard party.’ It’s a barbecue party.”

“You’re lucky I don’t get to pick the mustard, or else you’d be eating this fancy stuff with all the other food snobs,” Eddie teases, watching Buck’s exaggerated face of distaste as he puts the bottle back.

They head over to the meat section, bickering about which cuts to get and how much of everything is too much. Buck complains about the weird produce section, and Eddie critiques Buck’s burger preferences.

“Okay,” Eddie says, putting a pack of chicken in their cart, “we’ve got the main items, but we’re gonna need more sides. Grilled corn, pasta salad, and don’t forget the buns.”

As they turn down an aisle to grab the buns, the store’s loudspeaker crackles to life. They hear the announcement over the store speakers— a little more casual than they expect, but still getting everyone’s attention.

“Alright, folks! Time for a fun contest— couples, step right up! We’ve got a little challenge for you, and if you win, you’ll walk away with a big prize. No sign-ups necessary, just come on down to the front if you’re up for a little shopping race!”

Buck looks at Eddie, brow furrowed. “What’s that about? Are we supposed to be... competing?”

Eddie chuckles, slightly confused. “I guess so? But who’s going to think we’re—” He gestures vaguely between the two of them, not quite finishing the sentence.

“Are you kidding me, Diaz? Who wouldn’t?” Buck points out, already intrigued. “They’re offering a big prize, and we could totally win, just by being ourselves. We’re a better team than most married couples out there.”

Eddie grins, “That’s true. But you really want to do this? Just to mess with people?”

Buck shrugs. “If we win, I’ll let you pick out whatever weird fancy mustard you want.”

They head toward the front of the store, both still unsure what exactly they’re signing up for. As they approach, they see a small group of people gathered around a makeshift stage with a few other couples standing by. A guy in a bright red apron and a headset is grinning like this is the best thing to happen all day.

“Alright, couples!” he announces, pointing to the sets of participants. “You’ll each get a challenge. The first couple to finish it wins the prize— free groceries up to $115, courtesy of Big Al’s Sauces, now on sale at all six of our locations! Hey, you two! You guys just look like you’ve got some good teamwork— come on!”

Buck looks around, suddenly realizing they’re getting a lot of attention. He raises an eyebrow at Eddie. “He’s talking to— are you talking to us? Oh, we’re—”

“No need to sign up, it’s just a little fun with a little promotion,” the host grins, handing each couple a paper with a challenge written on it. “Here you go! This is a fast-paced shopping scavenger hunt. First couple to find all their items wins!”

Buck’s eyes widen. “Wait. You mean like— running around the store?”

“Yep! For free groceries! Good luck, lovebirds!” The host winks at them and steps away to get ready for the next round.

“This is so not what we signed up for.”

Eddie looks at Buck, a grin forming on his lips, and a strange feeling of excitement starts bubbling up in his chest. If they win this thing, they could cut down their grocery costs significantly, which makes the whole thing seem more fun than annoying.

“I’m starting to think this is destiny, Buck,” Eddie says, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “Alright, let's play along and see how fast we can rack up some free stuff.”

His answer is a bright smile which Eddie thinks is worth it all.

The timer starts, and they rush off. The challenge is a mix of finding specific items—cereal, a pineapple, baking soda—but with a twist: they have to get everything in the exact order. Eddie takes charge, tossing things into their cart with impressive speed while Buck—despite his usual flair for dramatics—manages to keep up with the pace.

They work seamlessly together, instinctively, without even having to look at each other, grabbing everything in tandem, as if they’ve been practicing this for years. As though they’ve been synced up forever, and the truth is, to some extent, they have.

Buck and Eddie are a team to their cores.

Eddie picks up a bag of potatoes with the precision of a surgeon, while Buck zooms down the next aisle to grab a bottle of olive oil, managing to avoid a collision with an old lady who’s somehow taking up the entire aisle.

“Watch out for that elderly shopper!” Buck yells, ducking under the cart. “She’s got a death grip on that coffee!”

Eddie laughs, his focus unbroken. “You’re the one who almost ran her over.”

The last item on the list is a can of pineapple, and it’s sitting on the top shelf in the back corner of the store. Buck, of course, manages to knock over a display of canned beans in his mad scramble to grab the pineapple.

Eddie watches from the next aisle, facepalming. “Really, Buck?”

Buck grins sheepishly. “Hey, I got the pineapple, didn’t I?”

“You’re lucky we don’t have to clean that up.” Eddie gives him an exasperated smile as Buck throws the can triumphantly into their cart.

They finish the list in record time, walking back to the front with their cart full of items. Buck’s grinning like a kid who just got away with something, and Eddie’s trying so hard not to cackle like a demented witch on crack, though he’s clearly pleased with their teamwork.

As they roll back to the front, out of breath but laughing, the host greets them with a grin. “Well, looks like we have our champions! You guys finished so fast, I’m starting to think you’ve been here before.”

Buck laughs nervously. “We’re really not—”

“You are the cutest couple ever,” the host interrupts, throwing up his hands. “Seriously! I mean, just look at how in sync you are! You just get each other.”

“He’s right, you two are so cute, it's kind of disgusting,” an elderly woman says from behind the counter, nodding approvingly. “You know, you two remind me of my husband and I when we were younger. My advice? Keep things spicy, never stop laughing, and—” she pauses, taking a deep breath. “And don’t let the little things get to you. You hear me? Little things can ruin a marriage!”

Buck exchanges a glance with Eddie, barely stifling his laughter.

“Thank you, ma’am, we’ll keep it in mind,” Eddie says, his voice low and serious.

As the elderly woman continues to talk about how she and her husband managed to stay happily married for fifty years, another woman comes up to them with a grin. “Congrats on winning! And can I just say, you two are definitely the cutest couple here!”

Buck, already warmed up to the idea of playing along, nods. “Thank you, we get that all the time,” he says, giving Eddie an exaggerated wink. “Right, babe?”

Eddie smiles widely. “Totally. You know how it is.”

The elderly woman beams from behind the counter. “That’s the spirit. Keep each other smiling!”

As they check out, the host gives them their prize. “Your total rounds up to $125.85… would you like to pay the difference with cash or card?”

Buck raises an eyebrow. “Coupon.”

Eddie bursts into laughter behind him and the host joins in as he begins bagging their groceries, “Gosh, it’s so nice to see a couple who has so much fun together. I’m sure you guys make all your friends so jealous. Are you two married?”

Buck’s eyes are shining in a way Eddie hasn’t seen before, and he doesn’t look away when he says, “We’re partners.”

“Awesome! How long?”

Eddie’s eyes never leave Buck’s face when he answers, “Seven years.”

Buck does pay the difference with a coupon he’s cut out from a Costco magazine, and Eddie’s still grinning widely as he follows Buck to the car, their arms loaded with the groceries they didn’t spend a single cent on. As they load up their groceries, Buck and Eddie share a brief, understanding look. Eddie’s trying hard not to smile too wide, and Buck’s expression is a mixture of amusement and something else he’s not quite ready to label.

Buck jogs over to the driver’s side without a word, and he’s already got the AC turned on and cranked up to the max when Eddie slides in the passenger seat. God bless Evan Buckley.

“I can’t believe we got everything for free. I’m starting to think being ‘couple goals’ might have its perks.”

“Yeah, I’m actually not complaining,” Buck says, eyes flickering to Eddie momentarily, his grin infectious. "We should do this more often. Maybe I’ll even start thinking you’re the spicy part of this marriage.”

“Let’s just get to the firehouse, Romeo. You can plan our next date night later.”

“Well, now I feel like we actually are married,” Buck says, giving Eddie a teasing grin. “Maybe we should get matching aprons for the barbecue.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but doesn’t even try to hide his grin as he says, “If we get the matching aprons, we’re definitely getting a pair of those cheesy mugs too.”

“Deal.”

—

4.

It’s a typical day at Firehouse 118, and Buck and Eddie are elbow-deep in paperwork, while the rest of the squad is scattered around the firehouse. The hum of the TV in the background, the occasional clinking of coffee cups, and the low murmur of voices fill the air, creating that cozy, comfortable atmosphere only a firehouse can provide.

"Alright," Buck says, tapping his pen on a stack of reports. "Five more minutes, and I'm out of here. I deserve a break before the next call."

Chimney rolls his eyes from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the couch. "You say that like you’re not always on some kind of mini-vacation, even when we're in the middle of an emergency."

Buck grins, leaning back in his chair. "That’s because I’ve mastered the art of looking busy. It’s a gift. You should try it sometime."

The tone in the room shifts instantly when the emergency alarm blares, loud and sharp, like it always does. The team jumps to action, ready to face whatever chaos awaits. Buck and Eddie are already on their feet, grabbing their gear and heading for the truck.

The call? A car crash involving a woman trapped in the driver’s seat. Standard stuff, but in this line of work, standard can quickly turn into anything but.

When they arrive at the scene, it’s immediately clear that things are worse than expected. The car is flipped on its side, and the woman is still inside, her breathing frantic. It’s an all-hands-on-deck situation.

“Alright, team,” Bobby says, as they file out of the truck. “Hen, talk to the patient and stabilize her. Chim and Eddie, you’re on extraction. Buck, check the engine for leakage. Let’s get her out before this thing blows.”

The crew wastes no time springing into action. Eddie and Chimney grab the required tools and start working on the extraction, cutting away the wreckage. Hen heads toward the patient to stabilize her, and Buck begins circling the car, eyes sharp and focused on the small red flags.

“Okay, we’re almost there,” Chim says as he pulls another piece of debris away. Eddie’s knee is pressed against the side of the car as he carefully works with Chimney, both of them used to the rhythm they’ve fallen into over the years. Hen’s talking to the woman, her tone calm as she checks her vitals and reassures her.

“Just a few more seconds,” Hen says, her voice steady. “You’re doing great. We’ve got you.”

Buck’s crouched by the engine, inspecting the damage carefully. There’s a sharp odor of gasoline in the air, and his instincts are on high alert. He can feel his heart racing as he checks the engine’s integrity, mentally scanning for anything that could cause a secondary explosion.

“Hey, guys,” Buck calls over his shoulder, his voice serious. “I think you’ve got to hurry it up with the extraction, and get away from the engine. This thing’s been leaking for a while, I think it might blow again.”

Eddie shoots him a thumbs-up, then focuses back on the extraction. “Got it, Buck.”

The woman’s out of the car now, and Hen’s giving her oxygen while Chimney preps her for the ambulance. Everything seems to be falling into place.

That’s when it happens.

There’s a sudden, deafening pop followed by a sickening boom. The engine bursts—fuel and heat igniting—and a small fireball shoots up into the air. The explosion’s contained enough that no one else is at risk, but the force still sends a wave of heat and pressure through the air.

Buck’s too close. As always.

He barely has time to react as the shockwave hits him. He’s thrown backward, his body slamming into the pavement with an unforgiving thud. The impact knocks his helmet off his head, and the breath out of his lungs, and for a split second, the world goes white.

His head hits the ground hard enough that he feels the sting of a scrape across his forehead, the blood oozing out slowly. The pain is momentary—his body’s in too much shock to process it fully—but it’s enough to make him groan as he tries to push himself up.

Eddie, who’s been watching the patient get loaded into the ambulance, hears the explosion and turns just in time to see Buck hit the ground. His heart leaps into his throat.

“Buck!” Eddie shouts, panic surging through him. Without thinking, he bolts toward his partner, pushing past Chimney and Hen, his focus entirely on Buck.

By the time Eddie reaches him, Buck’s sitting halfway up, looking dazed. His eyes are unfocused, his hand instinctively going to his head. Blood’s trickling down from the scrape on his forehead, and Eddie’s chest tightens at the sight.

He drops to his knees beside Buck, immediately checking for any other injuries, his hands brushing over Buck’s body with urgency. “Hey, hey, you with me?”

Buck blinks up at him, confused, and then smiles faintly, his voice slurred. “Yeah, yeah... I’m good, just— ow.”

“You hit your head, man,” Eddie says, brushing a strand of hair from Buck’s forehead. “I need to check you out.”

“I’m fine,” Buck protests, though the way he winces as he touches his head says otherwise.

Eddie sighs, his hand hovering over the scrape. “You’re not fine. So sit back, shut up, and let me do my job, okay?”

Buck gives him a lopsided grin, clearly loopy from the head injury. “Since when do I listen to you?”

“Since now,” Eddie responds without missing a beat. “And if you argue with me, I swear I’ll sit on you and force you to listen.”

“Interesting proposition,” Buck mutters, but he’s not making any moves to get up. “I might act out just to get you to—”

“You are insufferable, and clearly fine,” Eddie says even as his hands shake—only slightly—as he applies pressure to the scrape, checking for any signs of a concussion. “Yeah, you’re okay. Ridiculous, and stupid, but okay.”

In the background, Chimney is finishing up with the patient, Hen’s already got her on the stretcher and into the ambulance, and Bobby’s making sure everything’s wrapped up. Eddie barely notices the rest of the scene; his whole world is narrowed down to Buck, and the sight of him looking so out of it makes Eddie’s stomach twist in a way that’s far more familiar than he’d like to admit.

“You feel okay, right?”

Buck gives him a slow nod, then looks up at him through his messy hair, still sporting that half-drunk smile. “Yeah. I’m just... trying to figure out if you’d carry me to the truck if I just lay here for the rest of the day. I think you would.”

As the ambulance drives off, with the patient safely on her way to the hospital, the rest of the crew starts heading back to the firetruck, the call wrapped up. Eddie’s still crouched beside Buck, double-checking him one last time as Buck rubs the scrape on his forehead, now covered with a makeshift bandage.

“Alright, clearly, you’re good,” Eddie says, giving him a final pat on the shoulder, standing up and offering him a hand. “No concussion, no lasting damage— well, no more than before. I swear, if you don’t stop getting into accidents, I’m going to start charging you for these check-ups.”

Buck grins, unbothered by the whole situation, already returning to his usual self, and takes Eddie’s hand. “Yeah, nobody’s believing that lie. You’ll keep doing this for free, ‘cause I’m your favorite patient, your best friend... and probably your biggest headache.”

“Probably,” Eddie mutters, pulling Buck upright. “You do have a talent for that.”

As they walk toward the firetruck, Chimney and Hen are already standing by the door, ready to climb in. Hen looks over at Buck and Eddie, giving them a pointed glance as they approach.

“You okay, Buck?” Chimney asks, leaning against the truck.

“Yup, all good,” Buck responds, “It’s just a minor scrape. C’mon, I’ve been through worse— exploding firetruck, lightning strike, tsunami— any of it ring a bell?”

“Yeah,” Hen chimes in, her voice teasing. “You just keep attracting danger, don’t you, Buck? It’s like you’re magnetically drawn to it.”

“Danger and I have a complicated relationship. Sometimes, it just wants to get close.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Chimney quips, crossing his arms. “But I gotta say, Eddie— you were looking pretty professional out there. Routinely playing doctor with Buck, are you?”

Hen laughs, her voice laced with mischief. “Yeah, Eddie. You definitely took good care of him. I mean, you were practically hovering like a worried specter.”

Eddie blushes a little, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard. “I— I was doing my job, which was making sure he wasn’t dying on us. I wasn’t hovering.”

“Sure you weren’t,” Chimney teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “You’ve got your own personal patient now. Got a little coat you wear just for him?”

“What the fuck, Chimney?” Eddie asks, his face the loveliest shade of red.

“What? It’s an innocent question.”

Buck, not one to miss an opportunity, pipes up with a smug grin. “You know, I’ve been telling Eddie for years to get a lab coat. I think he’d make the cutest doctor.”

“Do you have a concussion, Buck?” Bobby asks, walking by.

“Nope, just trying to convince Eddie to change careers. He’s had practice on me for years. He takes great care of me. I survive these things only for his attention.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, trying to hide his smile as he shoots Buck a playful shove. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Agreed.” Bobby deadpans, before walking away.

But Buck, basking in the moment, just shrugs. “Hey, I’m just saying... It's a win-win situation. He gets to be my personal doctor... and I get all the perks.”

Hen leans in, smirking. “So... that’s what we’re calling it these days? Personal doctor?”

“I mean,” Buck adds with a grin, “Eddie does have a drawer full of my socks in his dresser, doesn’t he?”

Eddie’s face turns even redder, but now he’s fully playing along. “I told you to stop bringing that up.”

“Oh, come on, Eddie,” Chimney teases, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “A drawer full of socks in your dresser? That’s practically domestic bliss right there.”

Hen nods, “I mean, you two already have a kid; I swear you’re co-parenting better than anyone else I know.”

Buck laughs, glancing at Eddie, who’s still trying to hide his embarrassment. “Yeah, we’re basically there. Might as well start calling each other husband.”

Eddie chuckles, clearly amused now, though still pretending to be embarrassed. “I swear, if all of you don’t stop with this, I’m going to start charging you for every hour I spend in therapy because of you.”

The crew laughs, and as they pile into the truck, Eddie and Buck share an easy glance, both of them more than used to the teasing. Buck leans back in his seat, his grin never wavering, as he looks over at Eddie, who’s still shaking his head but clearly enjoying the moment too.

“Yeah,” Buck says, his voice soft but full of meaning. “I’m pretty sure we’re already halfway married.”

Eddie looks at him, his smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re a ridiculous little man.”

But as the truck starts rolling back toward the station, the rest of the world fades into the background.

There’s only Eddie and Buck— together, whether they’re ready to admit it or not.

—

5.

The gymnasium is packed— parents, kids, relatives, teachers, all buzzing with excitement for the annual school play. The air smells like popcorn, the lighting is warm but a little too dim, and there’s a low hum of chatter as parents, kids, and teachers bustle around, preparing for the school play. Folding chairs scrape against the floor, and somewhere in the back, a toddler’s already crying. Classic.

Buck and Eddie are sitting in the middle row, the audience gradually filling up around them. Buck is practically vibrating with energy, sitting way too close and letting his knee bump into Eddie’s every few seconds. Next to him, Eddie—ever the calm to Buck’s chaos—is trying to maintain some semblance of composure in him. He’s failing miserably.

“You sure you’re gonna survive this?” he asks, giving Buck a teasing look. “I mean, I know you’re not great with sitting still for long. And this can get a little repetitive for you.”

Buck grins, ignoring the jab. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I live for kids’ performances. Plus, Christopher’s in it. I’m practically his personal cheerleader, the loudest in the room.”

“I can tell. You’re already bouncing in your seat.”

“I’m just enthusiastic.”

“You’re a hazard to public peace.”

“Better than being boring.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You should tone it down, though. People might think you’re a bedlamite and have you committed, and we can’t have that.”

Buck leans in, grinning. “If that’s what it takes to support our boy, so be it.”

Before Eddie can respond, the house lights flicker. The room quiets, anticipation settling over the crowd. Buck sits up straighter, nearly vibrating. The curtain rises to reveal a cluster of eighth graders in mismatched costumes, fidgeting under the lights.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Buck whispers to Eddie, leaning forward slightly, his attention completely rapt on the stage, eyes scanning the group of performers.

Eddie watches Buck, and in turn, has the pleasure of witnessing the subtle shift in his expression— the way Buck’s smile softens and his eyes light up when he spots Christopher on stage. It’s a look he’s seen before, but it always gets him right in the chest.

“I’m going to have to get used to this,” he mutters, but it’s clear he’s softening at the sight of Buck looking so... well, invested. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says softly, nudging Buck’s shoulder.

Buck gives him a small nod but doesn’t take his eyes off Christopher for a moment. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the entire world.”

The play unfolds with clumsy charm as the children perform their lines and stumble through their songs, miss their cues and giggle into their microphones, but Christopher’s, playing one of the townspeople with maybe five lines, nails every single one. His line delivery is as confident as ever, and Buck cheers after each one like it’s opening night on Broadway.

Eddie can’t help but watch the way Buck’s whole face lights up when Christopher says a line, or when he catches Buck’s eyes in the crowd. There’s something so endearing about it— something that makes Eddie’s heart thrum a little faster. It’s not just pride he feels for Christopher, but admiration for the way Buck is with him. The way Buck’s enthusiasm is so genuine, so full of love.

But Eddie also feels that familiar pinch of secondhand embarrassment as Buck whoops loudly when Christopher delivers his first line, causing a few heads to turn in their direction. That’s followed by a loud “That’s my boy!” as Christopher delivers his second line.

Eddie, rolling his eyes with a laugh, leans over and whispers, “Buck, you’re embarrassing him and me.” But it’s too late. Buck’s already halfway out of his seat, clapping louder than anyone else in the room. Eddie covers his face with his hands in mock exasperation, though his lips are twitching with a smile. “Oh God, I’m going to be the first person ever to die of second-hand embarrassment.”

The play continues, with Christopher nailing every line and delivering his performance like a pro. Every time Christopher steps forward, Buck cheers him on like a proud parent, his voice booming across the room. Eddie, though trying to stay cool, can’t help but watch the joy on Buck’s face. It’s like watching a completely different person— someone who’s softer, more open, someone who’s totally at ease.

By the time the final bow hits, the applause fills the room, and Buck is up on his feet, clapping the loudest of everyone. Eddie stays seated for a moment, looking around at the sea of parents, some still cheering, others packing up. It’s all so... normal. So sweet. He feels a tug at his heart as he watches Buck beam at Christopher, who’s now beaming right back at him, waving even as his teacher begins helping him backstage, his heart inexplicably full. For a moment, he feels a slight sense of warmth bubble up inside, the kind that he’s tried to ignore for so long. Watching Buck with Christopher— it just feels right.

After the play wraps up, the gymnasium is filled with a buzz of conversation as parents gather in the hall to wait for their kids to come out from the backstage area. Some of the parents are chatting animatedly, while others are checking their phones or sharing photos of their kids in their costumes.

Buck is off to the side, fully immersed in his phone as he posts about Christopher’s performance on Instagram. He's snapping photos of the large display case in the corner, and Eddie knows without looking that there must be photos of Christopher in there.

“Eddie! There you are!”

He looks up to see Fran Jones, a mom from Christopher’s class, walking toward him with a friendly smile. Behind her, a couple of other parents are trailing, holding cups of punch and gossiping in the way only parents at school events can.

“I’ve got to say, Christopher was amazing tonight,” Fran continues, smiling a very motherly smile. “Such a natural! You must be so proud.”

Eddie smiles, his chest swelling with pride. “I am, definitely. He worked hard for this, and it really paid off.”

Another mom, Gina Hayes, chimes in with a sigh. “I know! My kid couldn’t remember half her lines, but Christopher— he was on point the whole time. You must be so happy.”

Eddie laughs, glancing over at Buck, who’s still enthusiastically documenting Christopher’s achievements on display in the case. “Yeah, well, he’s been practicing nonstop. So, it’s not a surprise. But I—” Eddie’s words are cut off as the group of parents shifts slightly, moving closer to him, and some of the dads join the conversation.

“You know, you’ve got it made, Diaz.” Tatum Golde, Christopher’s best friend’s dad, slides his arm over Eddie’s shoulder in that overly friendly dad-bro way. “A great kid like Christopher, and that partner of yours? So supportive. What a solid team.”

Eddie blinks owlishly at the group. “My…?”

Gina nods along, “Of course! Christopher’s other dad— his name’s Buck, right? Always there when you can’t be. Always helping out whoever and however he can. He’s so great, you’re a lucky man.”

“Sorry, what?” He stares at Tatum and Gina like they've just spoken in tongues.

Aimee White jumps in, not missing a beat. “Oh, don’t be shy! You two are adorable!” she says, waving a hand. “It’s actually so sweet how hands-on Buck is. He’s at nearly every school event, always supporting Christopher. So sweet.”

Eddie’s mind races for a second, trying to piece together what’s being said. His first instinct is to correct them, but then— he looks over at Buck again.

Buck is all smiles, arms full of Chris’s artwork and his backpack, snapping pictures of Chris as he now stands with his class for professional photos, and Eddie feels a warmth spread through him. It’s not just pride for Chris anymore, but a deep affection for the man who’s always stood beside him.

Eddie blinks and shakes his head, realizing that these parents think Buck is... his partner. His spouse, even. And now that he thinks about it, it kind of makes sense. They’ve both been so involved in Christopher’s life, and maybe they’ve just fallen into that routine without even realizing it.

Still, the idea of Buck being his “spouse” is a little... surreal.

The conversation continues without Eddie, the parents unaware of his inner monologue. Fran Jones is chatting away, and Eddie catches bits of phrases like “two dads who work so well together” and “how lucky they are to have such a solid family unit.” Eddie can’t help but smile a little at the way they gush about Buck, even as he feels his cheeks flush from the sudden wave of realization.

And then the conversation shifts. He half-listens as they begin trading stories about their own spouses. Complaints, really— about missed events, late work meetings, forgotten permission slips.

“I swear, Tyler is always ‘too busy’ to make it to these things,” Fran complains, crossing her arms. “I told him if he didn’t show up tonight, I was going to take the kids to my parents’ for Labor Day weekend. Well guess who’s gonna be in Montana a few weeks from now?”

Gina nods sympathetically. “Tell me about it. Jon is the same way. Always working late, or stuck in traffic. Last week, I had to drag him to Kelly’s soccer game, and the whole time he was on his phone. Like, seriously? Can you not just watch your own daughter for five minutes?”

Eddie chuckles lightly, not wanting to get involved in the complaints, but he can’t help but nod along.

Another mom, Tonya Ford, joins in. “I swear, my wife is the worst. Never remembers anything— school events, parent-teacher conferences, nada. Natalie just shows up at the last minute like, ‘Hey, I’m here, did I miss anything?’ She doesn’t get it, you know?”

Will Casey, standing nearby, shakes his head with a dramatic sigh. "You know, Laura never gets the time to actually sit down and enjoy these things. Every time there’s a school event, her boss calls her in. She’s always missing out on everything. But when she shows up? Oh, it’s like a red carpet event. She acts like she’s the only parent who does anything."

They turn to Eddie in sync, expectant, waiting. It takes him a second to realize what they want.

He raises his hands and grins impishly. “No, I have no complaints, because Buck’s not like that. He’s amazing. I don’t have to worry about anything with him around. He’s always been there for every single thing. School play? Check. Parent-teacher conference? He’s there. Every single time. I couldn’t do this without him, really. Some days, I actually feel like he does way more than I do.”

The group of parents smiles knowingly as if they’ve solved the mystery of Eddie’s seemingly “perfect” home life. “Oh, of course! You’re a great dad too, Eddie,” Gina adds, patting his arm kindly. “And so is Buck, you guys both pull everything together, don’t you? You two are such a good pair.”

At this point, Eddie is no longer in the business to correct them. He’s been thoroughly swept up in the moment, and honestly? The more he listens, the more he realizes that maybe... this is the truth. He and Buck, they are a team. They’ve been there for Christopher through thick and thin, and Buck—whether Eddie’s ready to admit it out loud or not—has always felt like the other half of his family.

Eddie laughs lightly, his voice softer now. “Yeah, he’s great. The best partner anyone could ask for, really. He’s not just here for the fun stuff. He’s the first one to show up and the last one to leave. He does everything. He’s great with Christopher, super involved, never misses a beat, always planning activities and making sure Christopher has everything he needs.” Eddie’s practically singing with pride at this point, “Honestly, I’m pretty lucky. The luckiest, actually. Buck’s the absolute best at everything.”

Not one word of this is a lie.

He glances over to Buck once more, this time with a sense of quiet affection. Buck is now gathering up Christopher’s things, the kid chattering excitedly with his classmates in the distance. Eddie watches him, that easy, endearing smile plastered on his face, and feels his heart tug at the sight of how much Buck loves his son. Their son.

Meanwhile, Buck has come over, clearly oblivious to the conversation that’s been going on in his absence. He walks up with a huge grin, holding Christopher’s coat, some of his artwork, and a few pieces of paper from the play.

“Oh, everyone's here— hey, guys! Fran, Nora was so good! And Gina, Jack nailed that monologue! All the kids did so well— and Christopher! God, he was just amazing, wasn’t he?” Buck says, his voice full of excitement.

“He was! You two must be so proud.”

“Of course we are. Kid’s the brightest star out there.”

Eddie laughs nervously, sees Chris freed up from his classmates, and mutters a quick excuse. His fingers encircle Buck’s free wrist and he pulls him along, “I really can’t take you anywhere, can I?”

“Nope. I’m like your personal walking disaster. But you love it.”

Eddie laughs, this time genuinely, shaking his head. Maybe I do.

They walk up to Christopher, who’s holding a makeshift trophy, and a participation certificate from the school, his eyes bright. He grins when he sees them. “Dad! Buck!”

Eddie scoops Chris into his arms, “You were so amazing, Chris! You did so well! You nailed every line!”

Chris laughs, a sound that’s music to Eddie’s airs, “Thanks, Dad! Buck, you were so loud! I could hear you all the way from the stage!”

“You were supposed to. I’m proud of you, kid,” Buck says, ruffling his hair as Eddie sets him down, “You were amazing out there. You’re going to be a star one day.”

Christopher smiles up at both of them, his eyes full of love. “Thanks, Buck.”

Eddie can’t stop smiling at the two of them. He might’ve been embarrassed earlier, but now? Now, he’s just thankful for this little moment of normalcy, of family, and of feeling exactly where he’s supposed to be.

—

+1.

The Diaz backyard is a buzz of life.

The grill sizzles with perfectly charred burgers and hot dogs, Bobby at the helm, flipping food with surgical precision while Eddie hovers nearby, setting out condiments and buns. Karen is rearranging the fruit salad for the third time, Maddie and Chim are bickering over the right way to plate coleslaw, Athena nurses a headache from the quiet comfort of a lawn chair, while Hen sips at her lemonade like she’s watching a live sitcom.

It’s a casual 118 family barbecue—a tradition after a busy couple of weeks—and the air smells of burgers and magnolias.

Somewhere inside, the kids—Christopher, Denny, Jee-Yun, and Mara—are in a Mario Kart battle royale on the Xbox, shrieks of victory and defeat occasionally filtering out through the open patio door.

“Okay, why is your kid better at drifting than I am?” Chimney grumbles to Hen, pointing toward the house as he turns his back on his wife and her perfectly plated coleslaw.

“Because Denny has skills,” Hen replies, her tone smug.

“And because you drive like somebody's arthritic grandma.” Buck quips, strolling out from the house, balancing a tray of drinks with the ease of a waiter— his time in Peru finally paying off. He’s wearing a too-tight “Kiss the Cook” apron (Chimney dared him), and a pair of faded yellow flip-flops, which somehow make him look both ridiculously casual and infuriatingly at home, as if he belongs in Eddie’s space— which, of course, he does.

Eddie eyes him from the grill and smirks. “Don’t encourage him. Last thing we need is Chim trying and failing to Tokyo Drift out of the driveway.”

“Hey, I can drift!” Chimney protests.

“You absolutely cannot!” Maddie warns.

“Where’s the brisket?” Karen asks, scanning the table.

“I’ll get it,” Eddie says as he heads for the kitchen, shaking his head at the banter. He brushes past Buck in the doorway, who instinctively places a hand on Eddie’s lower back to let him pass— a small, natural gesture that’s gone unnoticed for months.

Except this time, Maddie spots it. Her eyes narrow. But she doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

Eddie brings out the brisket and places it on the table next to where Buck’s just placed the drinks, “Those took you long enough. Did you muddle the lemonade by hand?”

“Don’t sass the drinks guy,” Buck shoots back, his smile as wide as the Texas sky. “Besides, you’re the one who doesn’t label your pantry. It took me forever to find the lemonade.”

“You’re in my kitchen at least twice a week, you should know better by now,” Eddie retorts.

“More like every other day,” Karen mutters under her breath.

“What was that?” Buck asks, feigning innocence.

“Nothing, dear.”

The teasing could have ended there—should have ended there—but Maddie is watching the two of them with narrowed eyes. She speaks. Finally. “Okay, that’s it. What’s going on? Why are you two so… domestic?”

“Domestic?” Eddie repeats, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes, domestic. Like, we all know you’ve got this weird ‘life partner’ thing going on, but lately, it’s like…” She gestures vaguely between them, her expression suspicious.

“…Like you’re married,” Hen finishes, tilting her head.

Eddie snorts. “Pretty sure married people don’t have to deal with this level of harassment.”

“Oh, we’re not harassing you,” Karen says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not yet.”

“Was that a threat?” Eddie asks, “Are you threatening me in my own home?”

“Aha!” Maddie shouts suddenly, pointing a finger at Buck, who’s smiling at Eddie in that soft manner he usually adopts when it comes to him. “You are hiding something! What is it? Spill!”

Buck freezes mid-smile. “What? No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are!” Maddie insists. “You’ve been weird lately. Both of you.”

“Define weird.” Eddie says, crossing his arms.

“Okay, first of all,” Chimney interrupts, waving a spatula for emphasis, “you’re both wearing matching shoes right now.”

Eddie looks down at his flip-flops. “These are just chanclas.”

“Matching chanclas,” Hen points out. “It’s a slippery slope to shared bathrobes.”

Buck laughs, his expression far too casual. “Oh, come on—”

But Maddie cuts him off, turning to Karen. “How long do you think they’ve been sneaking around?”

Karen hums thoughtfully. “I’d say two weeks, maybe three.”

“Three weeks?” Chimney repeats, scandalized. “And nobody told me?”

“Nothing’s happening,” Eddie says, but he’s clearly struggling to keep a straight face.

“Uh-huh,” Hen deadpans, raising an eyebrow. “Sure it’s not.”

Bobby, ever the voice of reason, tries to step in. “Let’s not jump to conclusions—”

“Conclusions?” Maddie interjects. “Bobby, they share groceries.”

“That’s practical,” Buck says, shrugging.

“Practical?!” Maddie screeches. “You bought almond milk for Eddie. Almond milk. You’re allergic to almonds!”

Eddie winces. “She’s not gonna let that one go, huh?”

Hen leans in, smirking. “So, what are you guys waiting for? A big romantic proposal?”

“Guys—” Eddie starts, but his words are drowned out by Christopher appearing at the patio door.

“Dad! Buck! Can we have s’mores now?”

“Not yet, after dinner, buddy,” Eddie replies, but Christopher doesn’t leave. He glances between Buck and Eddie, and there’s a knowing twinkle in his eye.

“Did you tell them yet?” Chris asks innocently, causing Buck to snort into his drink.

The patio falls silent. Deathly silent.

“Tell us what?” Chimney demands, looking borderline frantic.

Buck puts down his drink, his grin widening impossibly. “I mean… it’s not our fault you’re all so slow.”

Eddie, ever the cool one, leans back against the table, arms crossed, his smirk matching Buck’s. “We’ve just been waiting for you geniuses to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?!” Maddie’s nearly hysterical.

Eddie glances at Buck, who gives him a small nod. Turning back to the group, he shrugs casually and says, “That we’ve been dating for about six months now.”

Pandemonium erupts.

“What the h-e-double-l?!” Chimney yells, suddenly aware that there are kids in earshot, while simultaneously unaware of the chair he knocks over.

“Are you kidding me right now?!” Maddie demands, staring at Buck like she’s about to strangle him. “You jerks!”

Karen, meanwhile, is practically vibrating with excitement. “I knew it! I KNEW IT!”

Hen cackles, slapping the table. “This is the best day of my life.”

Bobby just shakes his head, his laughter low and fond. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

Athena, who has been quietly observing the whole time, shakes her head with a fond smile. “Well, it’s about damn time.”

“You should’ve told me!” Maddie shouts, still stuck in shock.

Buck leans into Eddie, grinning like a fool. “I think they’re happy for us.”

Eddie chuckles, arm looping around his back, and hand coming to rest on his hipbone. “You think?”

The chaos continues, but Buck and Eddie are unfazed. They share a look—fond, full of love, and completely at ease—before bursting into laughter, letting their family’s stunned reactions wash over them.

Inside, Christopher peeks out from the kitchen, shaking his head at the adults’ antics. “Finally,” he mutters to himself before heading back to his Mario Kart empire.

The chaos eventually settles into a quieter hum, the squad still intermittently teasing and exclaiming over the revelation. Maddie has stopped yelling (sort of), but her glare at Buck is intense enough to peel paint.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” she grumbles, arms crossed. “Me, your only sister.”

Buck grins, leaning back in his chair with his arm slung casually over Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re the one who said I was terrible at keeping secrets. Consider this proof of growth.”

“Growth?” Maddie shoots back, incredulous. “You’ve been lying to me for months.”

“Lying? I never lied to you,” Buck says breezily. “I just… selectively omitted.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie interjects, holding up a hand to stem the tide of teasing. “We get it. You’re all shocked. Can we move on now?”

“Move on?” Chimney exclaims, gesturing wildly. “We just found out our two best friends have been playing house in secret for half a year. We’re never moving on!”

Bobby chuckles, patting Eddie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, boys. This’ll blow over eventually. Maybe by… next year.”

“Try next decade,” Hen corrects with a wicked grin.

Meanwhile, Christopher finally reappears from the house, Jee-Yun trailing behind him, clutching her favorite stuffed animal. He pauses to assess the situation, his brow furrowing. “Are they still freaking out?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers, deadpan.

“Extremely,” Buck adds with a grin.

Chris shakes his head, “Buck, can we have s’mores now? You promised.”

“Of course we can, let's leave the crazy people to sort out their crazy,” Buck says, walking over to ruffle Chris’s hair. He glances at Eddie with a soft smile as he takes one of Chris’s hands. “Wanna help me set up the firepit?”

“Obviously,” Eddie replies, standing and crossing over to Buck’s side in a blink, he extends his hands towards Jee who immediately raises her arms, and he scoops her up with a delighted laugh. Buck waits until Jee has tucked her head into Eddie’s neck, before he grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together as the four of them head toward the firepit, Chris slowly but steadily leading the way.

“Did you see that?” Maddie whispers, her voice high-pitched with disbelief. “They’re holding hands.”

“They’ve been holding hands this whole time,” Karen points out, rolling her eyes fondly.

“I think they’ve been doing way more than that,” Hen says most helpfully.

“I need a drink,” Bobby mutters.

“Me too,” Maddie agrees.

“But you’re pregnant,” Chim says.

“And who’s fault is that?” Maddie's eyes flash, and Chim takes a step back.

The group watches as Buck and Eddie work together with practiced ease, building the fire while keeping Chris and Jee entertained. Buck sets up the kindling and lights it while Eddie passes marshmallows to the kids, their movements so synchronized it’s like watching a well-rehearsed dance.

“They’re disgustingly in love,” Hen remarks, sipping her lemonade.

“And now it’s our problem,” Maddie adds, though she’s grinning widely.

By the time the s’mores are ready, the backyard is glowing with golden light from the firepit. The kids are happily sticky-faced, the adults lounging in their chairs with full bellies (they had dinner somewhere in-between Maddie being hysterical again and Buck burning several s’mores) and lighter hearts.

The newest couple is settled into a loveseat near the fire, Chris curled up between them with a blanket. Eddie wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulders, and Buck leans into him, his hand resting on Eddie’s thigh. They’re quiet, and peaceful, basking in the warmth of the fire and each other.

As the fire crackles and the night stretches on, Buck and Eddie become a bit more shameless— because, really, if they’ve been outed, why hold back?

Buck leans into Eddie, stealing one of his s’mores right out of his hand. “This is terrible,” he says, biting into it with exaggerated drama. “You really thought this was a masterpiece?”

Eddie gapes at him, mock affronted. “Excuse me, you are the one who said extra marshmallows were the way to go.”

“Yeah, because you always burn them.”

“I lightly caramelize them.”

Hen groans from her chair. “God, they’re even worse now.”

Chris pipes up from the blanket he’s curled up in. “Dad does burn the marshmallows, though.”

“Traitor,” Eddie mutters, sliding a hand through Chris’s hair. “I’m taking away your second s’more.”

“You wouldn’t dare, Diaz,” Buck says with a smirk, reaching over to pass Chris another marshmallow anyway.

Chimney watches this exchange with narrowed eyes, then points accusingly at Buck. “Did you just— did you just boop his nose when you made fun of him?!”

Karen squints. “Oh my God. He totally did.”

“I did not boop his nose!” Buck says, outraged.

“Yes, you did,” Hen confirms, deadpan. “You booped him. In front of us all. We all saw it!”

“Cap! Tell them I didn’t.”

Bobby shakes his head and wraps his arms tighter around his wife, “I don’t lie, Buck, you know that.”

“Traitor!” Buck accuses.

“Booping is a very coupley thing to do,” Maddie points out, looking suspiciously delighted now.

Buck tries to defend himself, but Eddie cuts in, his voice utterly casual. “Never mind the peanut gallery, babe. They’re just jealous.”

The entire backyard erupts into groans and shocked laughter once again.

“Babe?!” Chim yells, clutching his chest. “I can’t. I’m deceased. Deceased. Mads, make sure to tell Jee I was a devoted father.”

Hen fans herself dramatically, falling over into Karen's lap, “Oh, they’re killing me. Right here. Death by secondhand PDA.”

Unbothered, Buck leans back with a smirk. “If this is how you guys react to a pet name, you’re gonna lose your minds when I start calling him honey bear.”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head. “You’d have to survive calling me that, first.”

“Oh, I’d survive,” Buck counters, grinning. “You’d secretly love it.”

The banter is interrupted when Chris leans over, looking up at Buck with wide, hopeful eyes. “Can you call my dad that? Just once? For me?”

Eddie groans, dragging a hand over his face. “Chris, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Chris just shrugs, utterly unfazed. “But Buck makes you smile.”

“Aw,” Maddie says, clutching her heart like it physically hurts. “This is disgusting. I love it.”

Karen leans over to Hen, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “I mean, if this is their dynamic after hiding it for months, what are they going to be like now that it’s out in the open?”

“Unbearable,” Hen says. “Absolutely unbearable. I can’t wait.”

Buck, clearly thrilled by the commentary, wraps his arm around Eddie and tugs him closer. “Oh, just wait. We’re gonna be everywhere, Hen.”

“Couple photoshoots?” Karen asks, clearly entertained.

“Wearing matching shirts,” Buck replies, grinning.

Chris chimes in enthusiastically, “They already have matching mugs!”

Eddie groans again but doesn’t bother denying it.

Maddie looks torn between amusement and actual tears. “You two are so— ugh, I don’t even have a word for it. You’re just so married.”

The word lingers in the air, soft and warm. Buck and Eddie share a glance, something unspoken passing between them— a mix of humor, affection, and quiet understanding.

Eddie breaks the silence, his voice low but sure. “Funny you said that… ‘cause, uh… we are. As of last week.”

The backyard goes deathly silent, for once everyone’s too stunned to speak. It’s so quiet you could hear a marshmallow drop.

Chim blinks slowly like he’s been hit by a 2x4, “I’m sorry, you’re what as of last week?”

Buck grins, “Married.”

“In front of God and a magistrate and all…” Eddie says.

Maddie’s eyes bulge. “Did you just say— did he just say— married?!”

Hen inhales her lemonade. Karen’s already halfway out of her chair, mouth open like she’s watching the last ten minutes of a telenovela.

“What the actual hell?” Bobby mutters, eyes wide, and Athena—calm, cool, collected Athena—sits up so fast her sunglasses fall off her head.

“You’re joking,” Chimney says, voice high and cracking. “No, you’re not— this is a prank! This is a long-con prank, right? Right?”

Buck shrugs, grinning, absolutely no remorse. “Nope, it’s real. It was a small thing— courthouse, then backyard. Just us and Chris. Signed the papers, made it legal.”

“You got married in the backyard like it was a damn Friday?!” Maddie shrieks.

“It was a Friday,” Eddie says helpfully.

“Oh, I’m going to spontaneously combust,” Maddie says, pacing in frantic circles. “You’re telling me I found out my baby brother was secretly married a week ago, while I was pregnant and hormonal and still helping you pick out throw pillows like a goddamn moron—”

“Hey, Mads, if it’s any consolation, you helped us pick out wedding pillows.”

“Oh, my God,” she groans, “literally fuck you!”

Hen clutches her chest like she needs defibrillation. “I thought the dating thing was shocking. But this— you two skipped the soft launch, skipped the hard launch— you launched straight into orbit!”

Karen, whose excitement is now verging on feral, claps her hands. “You got married and didn’t tell a single one of us? Not even Maddie, not even Hen.”

Chim has a distant look in his eye, like his brain hasn’t computed anything since 1996. “You didn’t even tell me. I thought I was your ride-or-die, Buck.”

Eddie shrugs. “Chris was the ring bearer. And the witness. And the photographer.”

Buck nods. “Our boy’s a multitasker.”

Chim crash lands on Earth at that, and lets out a startled laugh. “Is that why he asked me last week if I believed in love at first sight or steady legal commitment?”

Maddie groans, “I thought he was writing an essay!”

Athena shakes her head, finally recovering enough to speak. “This family needs a surveillance team.”

“I knew something was up when Chris kept asking about our wedding photos,” Karen mutters.

Bobby pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know, for a group of first responders, we are spectacularly bad at noticing emergencies in our own backyard.”

“Literally!” Hen cries. “The marriage emergency was right there, and we missed it!”

“Six months of secret dating, and now a secret wedding?” Maddie turns on Buck, eyes narrowed to slits. “Who are you literally?”

“Apparently, someone with excellent secret-keeping skills,” Buck says proudly.

“You’ve been together for half a year, and married for a week— all this under our noses?” Chimney says, looking emotionally violated. “I’m in mourning!”

“Oh my God, we weren’t even invited to the ceremony!” Karen adds, laughing like this is the best night of her life.

“Guys,” Buck says, holding up his hands. “It wasn’t about hiding it from you. We just… wanted it to be ours for a little while.”

Eddie nods. “We’ve shared everything with you for years. We just wanted one thing that was just us. Just for a moment.”

The group actually quiets down at that— Maddie pauses mid-pacing, Hen’s mouth closes around her next dramatic retort. Karen sighs, a little dreamy now.

Bobby nods slowly. “Yeah. That’s… fair.”

Karen adds, softly, “Still gonna roast you for it until you die.”

“Absolutely,” Hen agrees immediately. “But with love. Like, a lot of love.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Adults are exhausting.”

Eventually, the chaos resumes, but the tone has shifted— less scandalized now, more delighted, more gentle, more in love with this new love. The teasing is louder, the laughter warmer. Hen’s already brainstorming vow renewals, Maddie’s demanding a second wedding she can attend, Chimney’s shouting about tuxedos, and Karen is muttering something about matching embroidered jackets.

The teasing eventually tapers off, the night fading into a peaceful quiet. Buck and Eddie stay close, content to simply be in the moment. The fire crackles, the stars shine, and their friends are loud and loving in the way only family can be.

As the fire dies down and the night winds to a close, Chimney raises his marshmallow like a glass.

“To the happy couple— who apparently got hitched behind our backs like it was a Vegas drive-thru.”

“Cheers,” the squad echoes, fondly exasperated.

Later, as the last marshmallow is roasted and everyone's gone home, and Chris has been tucked into bed, Buck and Eddie find themselves alone in their living room, wrapped in a blanket and each other.

Eddie leans into Buck’s side, his voice soft. “Think they’ll ever stop teasing us?”

Buck chuckles, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s hair. “Not a chance. But hey— if being disgustingly in love means making it everyone else’s problem, I’m all in.”

Eddie smirks, tilting his face up for a kiss. “Good. Because so am I.”

Their night ends in laughter, love, and the promise of forever— and a very, very annoyed group of friends who are more like family, who will never recover from how grossly adorable Buck and Eddie are.

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.