Archive of Our Own

Eddie doesn’t remember the last time he was excited to be awake at four in the morning. In the passenger seat of Buck’s car, he’s currently being informed of every single item Buck had purchased for their trip, his ranting intercut every now and then with the occasional fun fact—usually just a random piece of information that popped into Bucks head while on a side tangent—, and Eddie couldn’t be happier. He’s just going to relax, drink some beers with his best friend and not think about the fact he’s going to be abandoning the life he loves soon. It’s going to be great!

“And I got this one with a three-sided hook that the guy said was the strongest one in the market!”

Eddie smiles to himself as he and Buck unload the Jeep, fishing rods in hand, two coolers full of beer, and enough food and snacks to last two grown men a week—or two drunk idiots a two-day fishing trip.

“That’s great, Buck!” He clasps a hand on his shoulder, “we’re not gonna use any of that.”

“What? Why not?” Buck follows him down the dock, pouting as they approach the fishing vessel they’d borrowed from Pete Mulligan at the 133. The Daisy. Yikes.

“Because we’re not monster fishing in the Amazon. We’re just hanging out, drinking some beers, sitting in the sun, and getting some time away from everything.”

As they load the boat Buck reflects on how they’d agreed not to bring up the move during the trip. At the time he thought what was for the best, considering how much effort Buck had needed to put into being supportive. But the relief is short lived and now, as they sail further and further away from the shore, everything he wants is to talk about it. Somehow, being so far out to sea makes it seem like they’re away from it, outside of it. Buck imagines telling Eddie he should ask Chris’ opinion first. He imagines asking him not to go. He imagines asking to go with him.

But then Eddie hands him a beer and starts talking about the game they watched last night, and Buck misses his chance.

“I’m not saying I want them to lose,” Eddie downs the last of his second beer as he prepares to cast his line, “but they’re getting to the point where they think they can’t ever, you know? The season’s almost—what?”

Buck has a confused look on his face. He looks at Eddie’s fishing rod, which he’d left set up from last time, and then points at his, fresh off the Tackle Shack.

“I… uh… I don’t have a hook. Or that thing on the point.”

“The sinker?” Eddie narrows his eyes. “You bought every single lure they had in the store and no sinker?”

“No, I have it, it’s just… it’s not on the string.”

“The line?” Eddie considers Buck's expression, confused and overwhelmed, eyes uncertain, mouth agape. “Buck... have you ever gone fishing?”

“Uh… I watched a vlog about it.”

“Buck!”

“And I’ve watched every episode of Deadliest Catch—and Legendary Catch!”

“You were the one who insisted we come! Why did you suggest fishing if you don’t like it?”

“You said you liked it!”

Eddie stops for a second and sighs. His eyes lower to the toolbox at Buck’s feet, every single partition open or pulled apart and filled with absolutely unnecessary, superfluous, ridiculous things and far too many of anything they’d actually be using. When his gaze returns to Buck – his eyebrows scrunched together, his curls slightly flat on the side he’d slept on – Eddie can’t help the flutter of utter fondness that spreads through him. A memory of himself as a child and Abuelo sitting in a paddle boat flashes in his mind as he clasps a hand on Buck’s shoulder.

“Okay,” his voice comes out kind and patient, and he hears his abuelo so clearly his eyes burn. “Let’s start with the basics."

“This is a sinker, it weighs down the line. How deep it goes depends on how heavy it is, basically. This is the lure. It’s bright and weird to, well, lure the fish right here, to the hook. This part stabs through the side of the fish’s mouth, sometimes a little further down and this little bit prevents them from slipping away. These are the bobbers, they float on the surface of the water and keep your rig from getting caught in the bottom or sinking lower than you want. The size of the bobber is proportional to the weight of the rest of the rig. Feeling good, champ?” Buck breaks his concentration to stare up at Eddie with furrowed brows and a confused smile. “I’m just trying to give you the full first-time fishing experience.”

Buck laughs brightly, the corners of his eyes scrunching up as he nods.

“Okay, stop me when you lose me. So, first thing you need to do to set up your line is to tie the sinker. Since mine’s already set up I’m gonna show you on this piece of line and you do it on yours, okay?”

“No, I-I’m really bad at knots. You should just do it, what if I mess up?” Buck fidgets with the line, twisting it nervously.

“You’re not gonna learn if you don’t try it.” Eddie says seriously, then almost jumps back and oofs at the words that just left his mouth. “Wow, I just said that. Okay, doesn’t matter. You won’t mess anything up, Buck, it’s really easy. And, if for some reason you do, we’ll just cut the line and do it again. You’ve got plenty of everything there. Lots of chances to get it wrong.”

Buck only seems to be partially listening. He stills, looking at Eddie with distant, carefully hopeful eyes. After a moment or two his shoulders drop almost imperceptibly.

“Just cut the line and try again.” He repeats.

“Yeah.”

Eddie feels the deep breath that followed is about more than mental preparation for the attempt. Buck bites the inside of his cheek as he follows Eddie’s instructions, working slowly and intentionally, successfully setting up his fishing rig on the first attempt, smiling sadly to himself when Eddie pats him on the back.

Eddie had already caught and released a yellowfish and a bass by the time Buck felt even a slight tug in his line. He checks on everything almost obsessively, despite Eddie’s warnings to let it go. And so by 11 am he's pouting, his arms crossed, already done with the trip.

“Arapaima.”

It takes Eddie a second, but after he processes what he heard, he moves the hat from his eyes and raises his head. The sun is high up in the sky, and really beating down on Eddie’s face as he tries to look at Buck.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The name of the big monster fish in the Amazon that you mentioned. Arapaima.”

Eddie sits up, a deeply confused look on his face, mixed with surprise and sincere admiration.

“Buck how the fuck do you know that?”

“I told you; I watched every episode of Deadliest Catch!”

Eddie laughs, lying back down.

“Buckcyclopedia strikes again.”

They sit in silence for another minute or so, the soft splashing of the waves lapping against the side of the boat the only sound above a whisper.

“The river used to run in the opposite direction, you know.”

Another moment of silence. Then Eddie, intrigued, completely removes the hat from his eyes.

“Is that even possible? I mean, rivers flow down. They can’t like… flow up.”

“Very shrewd, Edmundo. Ow!” Buck massages the arm Eddie kicked. “It used to flow the other way before the Andes were there. Then the mountains came up and—as you so astutely said—rivers flow down.”

“Wow. I can honestly say I would have never known that.”

“You’re so lucky to have me.”

Buck doesn’t see when Eddie smiles knowingly, with his eyes once again covered completely by the hat.

“Yes, I am.”

A few minutes go by before Buck speaks again, his voice lower and shyer.

“Sorry about freaking out before.”

“Buck…”

“I guess sometimes I forget that when you make a mistake you can just… try again.” He says sadly, opening up another beer and taking in several swigs. As he often does when Buck gets introspective, Eddie thinks back to little Buck, maybe 8 or 9 years old—though he often wonders if it could be even earlier—failing at something for the first time. He remembers when he tried to get Chris into being interested in any instrument and how much he’d hated it, but mostly how sad he’d been to disappoint Eddie. Even after being assured it was just a stupid hobby, he wouldn’t budge until Eddie reassured him all he had to do was try. Give it an honest, dedicated try and if he didn’t like any of them, they could find something else he liked and most importantly: they’d do it together.

The memory stings for many reasons and he sighs, thinking back to the ancient Diaz wisdom that got them here and without saying a word, walks downstairs into the cabin of the boat and pairs his phone with his soundbar before taking it upstairs as a solitary accordion starts playing and Buck eyes him with a contorted expression of confusion.

“Abuelo always said there’s no foul mood that can resist a good Norteño,” he raises his finger, urging Buck to wait until the rest of the instruments kick in and he slowly begins following the footwork as best he can remember—though it had been almost fifteen years since the last time he even tried. Buck stares at Eddie, mouth agape, slightly quirked up at the corners, half-finished can of beer on hand, watching him fumble his way through the song. He downs the rest of his beer and stands up to join Eddie, neither man paying any mind to what the steps should actually look like.

“Guess your abuelo was right,” Buck admits, doubled over, hands on his knees when the song ends and Eddie pauses the music, slumping back on his seat to catch his breath. “I didn’t know you could dance like that, Edmundo.”

“I’m just full of surprises—Good God, it’s hot!” He drinks half a bottle of water in one go.

“No more Norteño?”

“It should only be used medicinally. After long enough you start to feel insane. But then again, it might have been being eight years old and told to sit still for 16 hours.”

Buck laughs at that, brightly and sincerely, and Eddie welcomes the smile on his own lips, handing Buck his phone. He takes his new job as DJ very seriously, immediately explaining his method in making the perfect fishing trip mix, which hilariously includes, among other wild choices, both the soundtrack for the musical Waitress as well as every Creedence Clearwater Revival song ever written. Eddie laughs loudly at every jarring transition, even while thanking whatever star guided him here. Not that he believed in any of that. But he was grateful anyway.

“So…” Buck starts, and Eddie looks up from his book. Buck is lying on the deck, his legs propped against the opposite wall, his feet moving lazily. Their fishing rods almost completely abandoned, propped up in their respective holders. “Not a lot going on, huh?”

Eddie smiles.

“Nope.”

There is an especially long moment of silence before Buck continues.

“Kinda feels like we’re just… drinking and napping.”

Eddie lets out a laugh and closes his book. He opens another beer, leaning it over to Buck, who clinks it with his own.

“Welcome to the covenant of fishermen, brother. Don’t tell anyone.”

Buck smiles at that, moving his head to look at Eddie, upside down.

“What’s said in the boat, stays in the boat.”

“Abuelo would be proud. Chips?”

“I’m kind of sick of chips. We can have the lunch I packed if you want.”

Eddie turns to fully face him.

“You cooked?”

“I’m not gonna let you eat only snacks for the whole weekend!” Eddie grins as Buck stands to set up their mid-afternoon lunch.

They sit on the floor opposite each other, with their legs stretched ahead, parallel, as Buck takes things out of one of the coolers.

“Okay! Here we have mushroom and steak risotto with side salad.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him.

“You brought salad on a fishing trip?”

“And vinaigrette!” he excitedly pulls a little jar from his bag and sets it between them.

“Wow, everything looks amazing, Buck… And I’m definitely not gonna get food poisoning from this?”

“No dairy in the recipe and it was safely stored in a cooler at the proper temperature.”

Eddie decides to trust his partner. He takes a forkful of room temperature risotto into his mouth, expecting to have to ham up his reactions to eating unheated wet rice, but he stops mid-chew, looking down.

“Oh, fuck me. Are you kidding?” Buck stills, concerned, before Eddie looks back at him, nothing but surprise and delight plastered on his face. “This is amazing, Buck!” He smiles widely and sits up straighter. “Did Bobby help you with the recipe?”

“Nope. All me.”

“Oh damn. This might b—” Eddie stops himself before leaning conspiratorially over the table. “What’s said on the boat stays on the boat, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This might be better than Bobby’s steak and cheese risotto.” Eddie whispers as if Bobby might hear him if he says it any louder. Buck’s eyes widen and his smile gets even bigger.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! In fact, I hope you’re not planning on eating yours.”

Buck laughs.

“I have more.”

“Oh damn, I love you! This is so fucking good, Buck. Jesus Christ.”

Eddie ends up eating the rest of the portions Buck brought after Buck assures him it’s fine, and they still have plenty of food. The rest of the afternoon passes by lazily as Eddie sleeps through half of it and even after his nap Buck's still reeling with pride. That is short lived when Eddie—asleep—manages to get another Yellowtail in the line, reeling it in sleepily after the rattling of the fishing rod wakes him up. Buck sulks again, crossing his arms and cursing the stupid fish below.

Eddie groans into the dark as he feels a nudge against his foot, followed by quiet cursing.

“Buck?”

They’d agreed to sleep early, ducking below deck after sunset, following their nutritious dinner of chips and salsa and granola bars. The thin mattress is incredibly uncomfortable, which would have bothered Eddie had he been slightly less drunk. He blinks his eyes open, looking at the foot of the mattress where Buck has his phone light on.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers.

“Where are you going?”

“I was just gonna lie down upstairs for a bit.”

“Do I really snore that loud?”

“No,” Buck laughs. “Come on.”

Eddie groans again, sleepily following him outside, rubbing his eyes. He checks his watch and even that light feels like too much. Nine o’clock. He needs to go back to sleep immediately.

Buck takes the cushions from the benches and sets them on the floor, trying to make it as comfortable as possible, the beam of his flashlight illuminating his focused expression, tongue out slightly to the side as he rearranges the pillows. Once he’s satisfied, he lies down and gestures for Eddie to do the same, which he does, quietly wondering why sleeping on the cramped deck would be better than in the cramped cabin. That is, until Buck turns off the light.

“Oh wow.”

“Couldn’t miss this, right?”

The night sky is absolutely clear, as it had been all day, and the clusters of stars and celestial clouds dance in front of their eyes. They seem to glitter, almost like they’re vanishing and reappearing as Buck and Eddie’s eyes scour the blanket of stars above them.

“So, which one of these did they use in sailing? Is it like just the one star? Or do they have a bunch?” Eddie asks, not even imagining Buck won’t know the answer.

“Depends. Sometimes navigators favor the brightest star on a constellation, but I suppose it’s easier to find the right star if you find the constellation first anyway. Ursa Major is a big one – that’s it right there.”

“Oh yeah. Totally. I can see it clear as day.” he deadpans mid-yawn and Buck rolls his eyes.

“They’re obviously the brightest stars, dumbass. It’s five stars going like this then two more like this.” He tries to create the shape with his fingers. “These two make a rectangle and with these here it looks like a saucepan.”

“I think I get it? How did they know if they were following the right one?”

“See, they had this thing called eyes back in the day.”

“You’re the funniest man in this boat.” Eddie blushes as Buck laughs quietly.

“They had tools. Well, the Greeks, the Europeans. The Polynesians relied more on just… their techniques, I guess. Star navigation. If the skies weren’t clear, they’d use the wind and currents, watching the birds. Patterns of bioluminescence, which is badass.”

Eddie yawns and turns to the side facing Buck. For a while it seems like he’s about to say something. His breathing changes and he hesitates before speaking; Buck braces for what he might say.

“Like Moana.” Eddie yawns and Buck does his best to keep his cackle in check.

“Yes, Eddie. Just like Moana.”

By the time Eddie wakes up again, Buck still hasn’t slept a wink. It’s just after midnight and the exhaustion of the day has done nothing to relax him, if anything it’s had the opposite effect. Eddie’s steady breathing is the only thing tethering Buck to the boat as he stares up into the sky, the beers finally catching up to him. He blinks and blinks and blinks again. His mind wanders, his instincts telling him he’s on the edge about to fall off.

Until Eddie’s breathing changes and he’s on the boat again.

He shifts quietly to his back beside Buck but says nothing. The atmosphere has changed. The light, airy laughs of the day long over, leaving only the things they thought they’d left behind on the shore.

“Chris would love this.”

Buck guesses they’re talking about it. So, he lets himself be honest.

“I miss him.” Sounds simple. The words don’t mean enough, they don’t bleed as he'd hoped they would. He hopes the edge in his voice might make up for it.

“I know, Buck.” His voice almost too quiet, his tone indecipherable, which tells Buck he’d understood. “I’m sorry I haven’t really talked to you about it. It’s just… Hard, you know? It’s one thing to admit I’m a failure as a dad, I’ve been doing it for years. But it’s different to admit that I’m just… sad.”

“Eddie, you failed; you’re not a failure.”

“Minimizing it doesn’t really change what happened, Buck.”

“Neither does condemning yourself. I mean that. As long as you keep trying, you’ll never be a failure. It takes a lot of love and dedication to not give up on your child, even when they give you every reason to. And it means a lot to be believed in, even when you think you don’t deserve it.”

“I would never give up on Chris…” he says slowly, as if deep in thought. It takes him a long time, but eventually he finishes the sentence. “But I almost gave up on me.”

“What does that mean?”

“I—” he stops himself, nervously moving in the dark. “I don’t feel this way anymore, okay? I need you to know that.”

“Okay.”

“There was a time… when I thought…” he takes a deep breath, “I thought he would be better off without me.”

Buck feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach. It takes a second, but he’s able to inhale again.

“Eddie…”

“I thought the… look, I didn’t have a plan.” He explains nervously. “I… I thought about driving down to Venice Beach. So it wouldn’t be—” he cuts himself off, but Buck understands. His mouth dries up and he no longer feels drunk. So it wouldn’t be you.

“What happened?” He doesn’t want to ask it, but Eddie would know. He’d know what he was really asking. Why didn’t you do it?

Eddie turns his face to him in the dark.

“You kept bringing me bread.”

Buck laughs, caught off guard by the simplicity of the answer and is immediately joined by Eddie. When he returns his attention to him, he can feel the tension of the moment replaced by something else, something more familiar. He can’t really see Eddie’s face in the dark, only the soft lines of his face reflecting the moonlight, his cheek, his jaw, the sharp angle of his nose leading down to the soft curve of his lips.

“One night I called and he… didn’t even pretend to listen. He just… played video games with his headset on. Didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t look at me. I heard Father Brian in my head, telling me I was punishing myself and I should do something that brought me joy… But I couldn’t. I couldn’t think of anything, so I had a drink. Then another. Then another. I just saw the rest of my life like that—if I was lucky. And I—I swear it was only a moment, Buck, I didn’t really want… But I reached for my keys. Then you barged in with two loaves, asking to use my flour and my oven. And that was the only time the thought ever crossed my mind, I promise.”

“You could have talked to me, Eddie.” His voice comes out weaker than he expects.

“I know. But you were there. That was all that mattered at the time. And the next day I went back to Frank.”

“Did it help?”

“It did.”

After a moment of silence, Buck takes a deep breath, trying to steady his shaky voice. “Thank you for telling me.”

Eddie in turn lets out an uncomfortable laugh, as if he just now realized what it was that he’d just admitted.

“It’s easier when I can’t see your face.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better friend,” the words escape Bucks lips before he can think about stopping them.

“You’re my best friend, Buck.” Eddie responds immediately, his voice confident and reassuring. “I mean… even that doesn’t make sense anymore. Best friend feels like such a stupid childish thing. Not even an understatement, just… not reality. You make me want to be better, Buck. You make me want to fight for Chris; fight with him, if I have to. Because I can’t give up. That’s not an option for me because it’s not an option for you. You fight and you come back to us every time. So, I’m gonna fight too. And we’re coming back. However long that takes.”

Buck is well and truly crying now. He doesn’t try to stop the tears, but he does his best to cover up the devastated sobs that want to escape his lungs. He feels Eddie’s hand rest on his wrist, his thumb brushing the back of his hand ever so slightly. They stay like that, quiet in the dark until Buck has stopped crying and his breathing is normal. He feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep when Eddie gently shakes him to get his attention.

“Buck.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… do you have a fishing license?”

“…Is that a thing?”

“Buck!”

“How was I supposed to know that?!”

Eddie wakes up with a pounding headache and a bright sky above him. He has no idea how there’s so much light when the sun is barely coming up the horizon. Buck shoots up next to him, scaring him in the process.

“Jesus Christ, Buck!”

“Shh!” He shushes, then covers his eyes with his hand. “Turn the light off!”

“It’s the sun, Einstein.” Eddie sits up and immediately regrets it. “Why did we sleep on the deck? I’m all damp now.”

“When is it?”

“6:55”

“Kill me.”

“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie groans “Get up.”

“Dude, we don’t have to fish the whole time!”

“To go below deck, moron!”

“Oh. Yeah, you’re right.”

They flop onto the tiny, uncomfortable mattress, their shoulders touching.

“Was I drunk or did you say you didn’t have a fishing license?” Eddie asks, doing his best to ignore the heat he feels emanating from the spot where they’re touching. Buck shifts next to him and huffs, annoyed.

“Yeah, sure, I have it right next to my looking at birds in the park license.”

Eddie forces his eyes shut and sighs.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“It’s fine!”

“It’s not fine, Buck! If the coast guard approaches us, they can fine you a thousand dollars!”

“A thousand?!”

“You know so much useless shit, how do you not know this?”

“How do I not know the state government regulations for the practice of an activity I don’t do?!” Buck’s voice goes an octave higher, indignation stamped across his face. Eddie rolls his eyes, relenting.

“Okay, fine. Ugh, I need to change.”

They put on their one change of clothes and then set up the fishing rigs. Buck figures he’ll just hide below deck if the coast guard approaches. After a while Eddie hands him a beer, an apologetic look on his face.

“Hey, man, sorry I yelled at you. I think I was just cranky cause my pants were wet.”

Buck nods, taking the beer and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I should have known about the license. It actually makes a lot of sense, come to think of it.”

Eddie pats his leg soothingly and sighs.

“It means a lot, you know.”

Buck’s eyebrow shoots up.

“Dry pants?”

“This trip. I haven’t been out with anyone since my abuelo. We’d go out to his friend’s ranch, take a paddle boat out on the lake and stay there from sunrise to sunset. He’d only speak to me in Spanish, play his radio way too loud, steal my twinkies if I wasn’t watching.” Buck laughs brightly, which makes Eddie smile. “I was fifteen the last time we went. He told me he was sick and would keep getting sicker, but he still wanted me to keep the tradition alive. Christopher never wanted to go and I never had the heart to make him, so I go alone. And after a while it stopped reminding me of abuelo and it just… turned into a me thing.” He shrugs, “but all of this,” he gestures around them. “You know, teaching you how to get started, drinking beer all day, listening to music, talking, napping is exactly what we used to do. And it reminded me of him. I guess I kept my promise after all. And you’re a part of it now, so thank you.”

For a second Buck doesn’t know what to say. Eddie has that power to just say things and be very nonchalant about it. Buck doesn’t have it. He’s very chalant.

“You did all of that, Eddie. I didn’t even do anything.”

“Come on, man. You’re everything. You’re here! And I guess the other times my fishing was more… efficient, but the real difference is that this has been fun. That’s what was missing, I think. It was nice to have this much fun again.”

Oh, good! He did it again! Because Buck needed one more reason to blush.

“I just made some rice.”

Eddie groans and slumps back. “Ugh don’t mention that to me, how dare you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck laughs before it hits him. “Wait. Did you say you were drinking beer at fifteen?”

Buck’s line moves. Both men still, straightening in their seats. The line pulls again, almost making the rod fly off the rack as Buck dives for it.

“What do I do, what do I do?” He screams, trying to do what Eddie had shown him and hold the edge of the rod at the crook of his hip and thigh.

“Reel it in, reel it in!” Eddie yells, trying to help Buck pull the fishing rod to the side and snapping back to get some slack on the line to make the reeling easier.

“Son of a bitch, what the fuck is pulling this thing?” He grunts, trying hard not to break his concentration.

“You got it, you got it, reel it in, reel it in, that’s it!” Eddie’s excitement is obvious in his insane laughter.

He yanks it one last time and pulls the fish into the boat.

“Pick it up, pick it up!” Buck does, still dazed.

“I did it!” he beams at Eddie, who has his phone in his hand, laughing and filming.

“You did it!” Eddie takes a bunch of pictures while continuing to film. “Get the measure, the measure!” he hands Buck the measure and he holds it next to the yellowtail. “Holy shit, twenty inches!”

“Twenty inches! Oh my God! Eddie, I caught it, I did it, look at this!!! Take a picture, take a picture!”

“Already got it!”

Buck then freezes, looking at Eddie in a panic.

“What do I do?!”

“Throw it back!” Buck gets ready to toss it, but Eddie stops him, pocketing his phone “No, not like that! You have to remove the hook first!”

With Eddie’s help, Buck quickly unhooks the fish and tosses him back, giggling the whole time. They decide against throwing the line back in and just leave the rigs in the holder, deciding mid-morning on day two is as good a time as any to call it a day and celebrate by drinking, boozing, blasting their eardrums with music and basically doing the exact same thing they’ve been doing this entire time.

“Uh… it was supposed to start, right?”

The sun is getting low in the sky when Eddie remembers Pete’s recommendation to not let the motor sit for too long.

“Yeah. God damn it,” Eddie sighs while Buck’s already on his feet, pacing back and forth.

“Eddie, what do we do?! We’re in the middle of the ocean! Our phones don’t work here!”

“Calm down, Buck. I’m gonna take a look at it.” Eddie starts to walk to the back of the boat when he’s intercepted.

“Don’t mess with it!”

“Jesus, man—relax! I’ve been on boats before, I fix engines all the time, I know what I’m doing!”

“Okay, just… be careful.”

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded in the middle of the ocean, Buck. If we can’t restart the engine, we’ll just call the coast guard through the radio, they’ll be here in fifteen minutes and tow us back to shore.” Eddie speaks with a patience that would have made his abuelo proud. Buck’s shoulders drop and his expression turns a little bashful.

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Eddie smirks, opening the motor powerhead cover. “You’re not the only one good with a plan, Buck,” he winks. “Now go get me the tools.”

Buck decides not to give a second thought about the blush spreading past his cheeks and down his neck and goes for the toolbox Eddie already had in his bag, probably anticipating something like this. He works on the motor for about 15 minutes before leaning back against the railing.

“Jesus Christ, it’s hot.” He pulls his shirt off and angrily tosses it aside, making Buck laugh.

“Sorry I can’t be more help there, man. Here, hydrate.” He tosses him a water bottle and Eddie chugs half of it and dumps the rest on his head.

“Oh, that’s the stuff,” he sighs before kneeling back in front of the motor.

Meanwhile, Buck is profoundly grateful that Eddie is so focused on the job that he hasn’t looked his way. He fears getting caught objectifying his best friend who he happens to be in love with would be too much for him after the roller coaster of emotions this trip has been. Trust him, if he could get his eyes off Eddie’s arms and chest while he struggles to undo a stubborn bolt or whatever he’s doing as water and sweat drip down his torso, he would. Or he’d try. Well, he would try not to get caught at least.

“Jesus, you’d think Pete would know the importance of cleaning this thing, he takes his family out in this.” Eddie muses, drying his forehead with his forearms as he sits back on his heels. “Try the ignition again.”

Buck pretends to finish the already empty beer can in his hand to have a reason to turn away before turning the key, this time the loud rumble of the motor hurting his ears.

“And that,” he stands up, smirking “is how you do it.” Eddie’s face falls as he looks ahead, “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“You reeled in your line, right?”

“My…” realization hits him as he turns and sees his fishing rod still in the water, the reel spinning uncontrollably as it tangles around the propeller. “Oh.”

“Buck!” Eddie jumps toward the panel to turn the ignition. After a moment of stunned silence, he sits down pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sorry, I—I’ll fix it!”

“It’s fine, Buck. We can just do it at the—” Eddie is interrupted by the sound of Buck jumping into the water. “Oh my god, you dumbass,” he shakes his head and opens another beer, sitting back in his sunglasses. After a few moments he comes back up for air. “You do realize the propeller was still going when you jumped, right? Or is the reason you came up because you lost a couple of fingers?”

“I waited for it to slow down.” Buck says in a small voice.

“And let me guess, you need a knife because you jumped in without thinking and now you don’t have the right tools?”

“Please, Eddie…”

He tosses the box cutter overhead, and Buck catches it, not looking at Eddie before diving again. Another few moments pass and Buck comes up, tossing the cut line and box cutter onto the deck.

“Need a towel?” Eddie teases.

“I’m fine, thanks” Buck huffs, coming back onto the boat as Eddie nearly chokes on his beer. Buck’s eyebrows shoot up. “You good?”

He nods, waving him off as he stands and Eddie has never been more thankful for the invention of the sunglasses. In his rush to make fun of him, Eddie hadn’t even realized Buck stripped before jumping, and he now stands on the deck in nothing but his boxers, soaking wet, making everything a lot more… form fitting. Father Brian did tell him to choose joy, so if he allows himself to stare a little disrespectfully as Buck dries himself off and if he checks him out as he passes by to get the rest of his clothes, that’s his business. For a few minutes there is nothing in his mind but Buck. He sighs.

God, he is so fucking gay.

The sun is already inn the horizon, coloring the sky with a million shades of pink, yellow, blue, and purple. Eddie looks back at Buck, who’s still staring at the cut nylon string in his hands. Eddie had tried to convince him they still had time for him to try one more time, but he’d said he didn’t want to risk damaging the ship any more. After assuring Eddie many, many times that he would pay for the damage, he’d taken to his seat and not moved or spoken for nearly an hour.

Eddie hated every second.

“You know, day two lunch was kind of underwhelming after day one lunch. Kind of expected a soufflé. Or at least a pasta bake.”

Buck doesn’t even seem to hear him. Eddie sighs deeply, already regretting it. He puts down his beer, turns fully to face Buck and taps his leg.

“Alright, fine.” Buck looks at him and Eddie places his hands on his knees, psyching himself up as best he could. “There was a time in my life – a long time ago – where I… tried to make it as a country singer.”

Buck freezes.

“What?”

“I recorded a couple of songs in my friend’s basement, we took some pictures, and we made a CD.”

Buck’s mouth hangs wide open before slowly relaxing into a tentative smile.

“Eddie—”

“No, you absolutely cannot listen to it. Don’t even try me, I don’t have it!”

“How old were you?”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“Eddie.”

He sighs.

“Twenty-one.”

“EDDIE!”

“Covenant of fishermen, you cannot ever tell anyone!”

“What was the cover?”

“Me with a guitar and a horse. Buck!” He protests when he starts to laugh even harder, eventually falling off the bench. Eddie can’t help but laugh with him, utterly relieved to see a smile on his face.

“The covenant and whatnot,” Buck waves his hand, wiping at his eyes. “What did you sing?”

“Tim McGraw covers.” Eddie rolls his eyes ignoring how Buck’s face is going purple from trying to hold in his laughter. “That’s not even the worst part.”

“That is not possible.”

Eddie stares at him, sighs, and closes his eyes for the final pathetic reveal.

“I couldn’t even play the guitar.”

It takes several minutes for Buck to catch his breath. When he does, however, he has a million questions. Eddie smiles, his embarrassment lessening as Buck listens, his face beaming. He takes in his every word with so much attention and genuine delight that it makes the teasing worth it, though he almost changes his mind when Buck turns the soundbox on and pairs his phone to play Tim McGraw.

Almost.

“Switch seats with me?” Buck requests, squinting his eyes shut, as the last threads of red sunlight shine directly into them.

“Why?”

“The sun,” he whines.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Blue eyed people are so dramatic.”

“It hurts my eyes!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Eddie complains but changes seats anyway.

Buck almost regrets asking because the way Eddie’s face is illuminated by the fading sunlight makes his chest hurt. He can’t tear his eyes away as his partner turns his face toward the light with closed eyes, enjoying the last warm rays of the sun. His messy hair flows in the wind and glitters copper in the sun, the warm glow of the early evening casting a wonder-like filter on everything. Everything Buck doesn’t want to give up.

“I hate that you’re going.” Buck mutters, almost hoping the waves softly lapping against the side of the boat would drown out his voice.

When he turns to look at him, Eddie’s expression isn’t confused, or angry or even surprised. He just seems pained.

“You said you were fine with it.”

“I was obviously lying, Eddie.” Buck explains, rolling his eyes like it’s obvious. “I didn’t want you to have to worry about me on top of everything else.”

Eddie took a deep breath, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Didn’t work. I still did. I do.”

“I’ll be fine, Eddie.”

“You’re obviously lying, Evan,” he mocks and Buck smiles, ducking his head. They share a look and it’s different. It’s a heavy, knowing glance, as if they both know what’s coming. As if it’s inevitable. And they cannot look away.

“Would you come with me?”

“I would.” Buck answers immediately, his voice quiet, the setting sun behind him illuminating his ocean-messy curls granting him a golden halo around his head. “If you asked.” He offers a small smile, “which you won’t.”

“No,” Eddie admits, his rich brown eyes scan the man across him, flecks of bronze glittering, illuminated. “Because I know you would.”

It’s there with them, the truth they can’t avoid anymore. The realization doesn’t come as a bang, it bubbles slowly, much as it had been for the past seven years. And it burns away any doubt, any uncertainties either might have had, because it’s always been the two of them. They can’t move, can’t blink, can’t breathe. Any shift in their movement might set it off.

And yet it is inevitable, just as they have always been. It doesn’t matter how long it took for them to get here, because they were always going to end up right here for the rest of their lives.

Until the anticipation makes Buck take in a sharp breath – and Eddie leans forward.

The first touch of their lips is cold. Buck shivers at the feeling, imagining it has nothing to do with the lack of warmth. He leans into Eddie a little further, moving his head slightly, sighing into the kiss. Before he can register the movement, he leaves his seat and slowly kneels in front of Eddie, without breaking their lips apart. Eddie shudders as Buck’s hand softly grips the back of his neck, deepening the kiss. He instinctively opens his mouth as Buck’s tongue softly brushes his bottom lip.

He shifts in his seat, both hands cup Buck’s jaw pulling him in even closer, a ragged breath unwittingly escaping him. Buck responds immediately, moving his head for better access, his hand guiding, directing Eddie. They let the kiss slowly change, dragging out the minutes as they become more and more breathless, tender, sweet and intense.

They separate, still keeping their foreheads together, noses touching, eyes closed as they melt in each other’s hands.

“Would you stay?” Buck offers a pained smile as he leans away, finally meeting Eddie’s eyes. “If I asked?”

Eddie smiles, his stomach tying into a knot at the raspiness in his voice. The tone is lighter, but he feels he should be honest anyway. After all, he’s not as pathetic in admitting it if Buck had done it first. He lets his head fall back slightly and Buck softly grazes his thumb over Eddie’s neck from his jaw to his collarbone, sending shivers down his spine and earning a breathy laugh in response.

Yeah, no, he’s still pretty pathetic.

“I would. But you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Buck grunts, forcing his eyes shut and letting his head fall forward. “Damn it.”

Eddie chuckles, lifting his head and kissing him again as Buck lets his hands rest on Eddie’s thighs, making his breath catch.

“So, I guess not everything that’s said in the boat stays in the boat,” he muses.

“Sorry, no. Country singer Eddie is coming to work with me tomorrow.” Eddie rolls his eyes, turning his face away as he blushes.

“You know what, you’re the worst.”

“You kissed me first! You set the precedent.”

“Exactly! You should be thanking me, not punishing me!”

“You’re right. Thank you.” He smiles, placing another soft kiss on his lips as Eddie pulls him in again, lingering and kissing and lingering. “For giving me Country Singer Eddie.”

“Alright, you can swim to shore. Come on, out.” Buck laughs and moves in to kiss Eddie into the pillows behind him. The thought of the annoying day Eddie will have tomorrow completely leaves his head the moment he feels Buck’s body against and pulls him closer, having him put more of his weight on him, when Buck slowly, softly pulls away.

“We have to go back,” he says, his words ghosting Eddie’s lips teasingly.

“Five more minutes.” Eddie suggests, capturing Buck’s lips again for a second, only for him to let out a low laugh, pushing himself off of him as Eddie groans.

The drive home from the harbor feels like a dream. Not a type of dream that Eddie’s ever had, but a dream anyway.

All the windows in the Jeep are down, music blasting from the speakers so loud they can barely listen to their own disjointed out-of-tune voices, wind whipping past the windows, adding to the noisy chaos.

And Buck’s hand softly splayed across his thigh.

As they enter the busier parts of the city, Buck slows down, turns down the volume, and rolls the windows back up. But his grip on Eddie’s thigh only gets tighter. He strokes his thumb back and forth, squeezing every now and again, smiling when Eddie places a hand on top of his. Eddie lets his head fall on the backrest as he’s watching Buck. He’s absolutely drunk. The last four beers he'd chugged while Buck steered them back to shore—because he wasn’t going to keep four beer cans loose in an empty cooler and he definitely wasn’t going to throw them out—were definitely catching up to him.

“What?” Buck asks without turning.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Everything about you.” He sighs lovingly, reaching out and placing a hand on Buck’s neck. He immediately melts into the touch, tilting his head as Eddie’s fingers caress his warm skin.

“You’re gonna make me crash this car.”

Eddie snorts. “Please. There are better ways to make you crash the car.”

“New topic immediately!” Buck laughs, shifting in his seat. “Did you send the pictures yet?”

“The pictures?”

“The pictures that you were just going over. Of the trip. To Chris.” Eddie looks at his phone in his hands and oh yeah! He really was selecting pictures of the two of them. “Damn, you’re really sloshed, huh? How many beers did you have today, like sixteen?”

“Don’t count beers, Buck. Not cool.” He mutters as he finally manages to send the pictures along with a little message Buck finally managed to catch something bigger than the lure! which he read very closely several times before pressing send.

Eddie doesn’t invite Buck in. He doesn’t have to; Buck's never been a guest in his house,. Eddie opens the door, feeling the familiar warmth of his house after staying shut up on a hot day. He tosses his and Buck’s bags on the floor and turns to him to tell him to put the coolers down wherever when he’s interrupted by a set of lips against his own and hands gently guiding him to the wall. He laughs into the kiss as Buck’s hands settle on his waist.

“Buck,” his own hands rest on Buck’s arms, strong and bulging under his shirt. At the momentary break of the kiss, he kisses softly on Eddie’s cheek and jaw, venturing down.

“Hmm?” He hums against his neck and Eddie can’t help the raspy sigh that escapes his lips as he dips his head back.

“We haven’t showered in two days.” He groans, breathless.

Buck lowers his hands from Eddie’s waist to his hips, then his ass. He presses himself against Eddie and places a kiss behind Eddie’s ear.

“Is that an invitation, Diaz?” Buck’s voice is teasing and low, sending a jolt through his body.

“I’m not letting the first time that you see me naked be after a two-day fishing trip in the middle of the ocean.”

Buck laughs, pulling back so their eyes can meet. “Then go shower.” He gives another soft kiss and Eddie follows him as he pulls back.

“I need to drink six bottles of water first.”

“Put your feet up, I’ll get you some.”

“You’re the perfect man.”

Buck winks back at him, already halfway to the kitchen. Eddie plops on the couch, sinking into the pillows and putting his feet up on the coffee table. His phone buzzes in his jacket and he groans, taking it out of his pocket.

“Who’s calling you at… eleven thirty on a Sunday?”

Eddie’s face drops and Buck runs to the couch.

“What? Who is it?”

“Chris” Eddie answers, gobsmacked, the phone still ringing. “It’s Chris.”

Buck jumps over the couch and accepts the call, which brings Eddie back.

“Hey, son,” he stammers.

“Hey dad.”

“Is everything okay? It’s late, I thought you’d be asleep.”

“I've been having some trouble sleeping the past few weeks.”

“I’m sorry about that, kid.” Eddie looks at Buck, trying not to freak out about this already being the longest conversation they’ve had in a while. “So, what did you think of Buck’s catch? He’s here, by the way!”

“Hey, Chris!”

“Hey, Buck,” his voice gets a little happier. “Uh… thanks for the pictures, dad. I’m glad Buck went with you this time, you guys looked like you had a lot of fun.”

“We did,” Eddie smiles. “We’re definitely getting a more reliable motor next time. And I’m packing Buck’s toolkit for him because… wow.”

“Hey! I was trying to be proactive!” Buck protests theatrically.

“And maybe next time we’ll go a little further south, try warmer waters.” Eddie continues, imagining them on the coast of Mexico, lounging in the sun, the fishing gear forgotten altogether.

“Maybe… maybe I can go on the next one.”

Eddie’s gaze shoots back at Buck, who has his eyes wide and his jaw dropped.

“Sure, son. Yeah, of course! Whenever you want!” Eddie responds, a little too loud and enthusiastically.

“Oh, and the skies are super clear out there, Chris. You can see everything!” Buck sits on the coffee table in front of Eddie and holds his shaky hands holding the phone.

“We miss you, buddy.” Eddie hears himself say, his voice thick.

“We’ll love seeing you again.”

Chris doesn’t say anything and Eddie and Buck look at each other, worried they might have gone too far with it.

“Are you guys dating?”

Buck holds back a laugh and Eddie stammers.

“I—Why do you ask that, Chris?”

“Well… Buck’s there the night before a shift. It’s eleven thirty. You just spent the weekend alone together—” his voice sours. “Wait, what were you guys doing before I called?”

They laugh loudly and Eddie requests a facetime call, pulling Buck to sit next to him.

“I was putting my feet up for a second, we just got home.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Chris smiles awkwardly.

Eddie looks at Buck.

“Would… would you be okay with that? Us being… together?”

Chris thinks about it, frowning. His eyes dart between the two, anxiously holding hands off screen.

“I mean, I guess it makes sense. And if you’re gonna date anyone, I’m glad it’s Buck. But please don’t break up!” He adds quickly.

Buck smiles, relieved, and puts an arm around Eddie’s neck.

“Don’t worry about that ever happening, Chris. Your dad was nice to me one time seven years ago and he hasn’t been able to get rid of me since. I’m not going anywhere!” He kisses Eddie on the cheek and Chris groans.

“Ugh, just cause I’m happy for you doesn’t mean I want to see that!”

“Sorry, son. He’ll behave from now on.” Buck gets an elbow to the side and falls back dramatically. Eddie realizes that Chris has started fidgeting, slumping in on himself.

Buck notices it too and sits back up. “Is there something else, buddy? We can talk about whatever you want.”

He takes a deep breath. “I was thinking that… That maybe I could come home for Christmas. And maybe stay? If that’s okay, I mean.”

“Yeah!” Eddie yells far too loud and quick, immediately covering his mouth, and it’s Buck’s turn to smack his arm, even as tears well at the corners of his eyes. “Sorry, uh, yeah Chris! We’d love that. I… I love you, son. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too.” Chris mutters, blinking rapidly.

Feeling the shift in the tone of the conversation, Buck knows just what to do.

“Hey Chris, seeing as you’re coming back soon I wonder if you could do me a favor. Listen, I need you to sneak into your grandparents' attic to look for your dad’s country album—”

“NO! No, that’s enough, thank you!” Eddie tries to mute the call, but Buck snatches his phone away.

“His what?”

“Nothing!”

“His country album. The debut album your father recorded to try and make it as a country singer. The cover is him with a guitar on his shoulder and a horse.”

“Wait, is he playing guitar on the horse?”

Buck looks at him expectantly. Eddie wishes he could crawl under the couch.

“No. I’m playing at the horse.” He admits through gritted teeth.

Both laugh and Chris gets up immediately to pull the stairs up to the attic. Eddie’s annoyance soon turns into pure joy as Chris and Buck laugh about all the weird things Eddie kept in his parents’ attic as Buck wanders aimlessly around the house, too excited to sit down. Meanwhile, Eddie’s brains starts making checklists

He’d need to clean Chris’ room, for one. And contact the school about enrolling him after the holidays. He wouldn’t make Chris leave before the end of the semester, of course, but he wouldn’t stop him if he wanted to. He’d need a new budget for groceries and extracurriculars and probably a new schedule for whatever new console his parents had bought. He still needed to speak with his parents, preferably in person, which meant he’d still have to go to El Paso, but he’d be back. Eddie would bring Chris back home, back to Buck, back to their home together.

Eddie’s eyes start to burn as he takes in the prospect of how much his life has changed since yesterday morning. Buck is there with him. He chose him again, like he had a million times before. Like he chose his son. He’s been choosing them since day one, always having Eddie’s back, protecting Christopher, loving them every way he knows how. Eddie can barely make sense of what they’re saying because Chris is coming home. Chris asked to come home. Chris is coming home because he misses Eddie and he wants to. He wants to go fishing with him and Buck.

Eddie can’t wait until the next time he gets to be excited to be awake at four in the morning.