Work Text:
It starts like this:
“And I’ve been doing a ton of, like soul-searching since Tommy dumped me,” Buck says around a mouthful of scone, “you know, like, while stuff’s been in the oven. Because I realized that I’d never actually, like, stopped to look at what this meant for me, you know? I dated a guy for six months and never stopped to decide what that meant for my own identity.”
“You don’t get your queer card revoked if you don’t have a specific label,” Hen says. She takes a scone, at Buck’s silent prompting.
“Yeah, I know,” says Buck. “But as soon as I started thinking about it I realized, like, I wanted to find a label. I wanted a name for it. And plus, like, stopping to think about it made me reevaluate so much stuff.”
“And?” prompts Chim. Hen kicks him under the table. “What? This is Buck. He doesn’t start conversations like this unless he’s planning to make an announcement. As much as I love the scones.”
Buck grins. “I’m bisexual.”
There’s a beat. Eddie watches from his spot next to Buck as it sinks in for the others, as they all decide what they want to say. This is important to Buck – this is really important to Buck, and he’d told Eddie when he first figured it all out a few days ago that he’s been worried that the others won’t give it the weight it has for him. Buck is quietly buzzing with anxiety beside him, waiting.
So Eddie speaks first.
“Happy for you, man,” he says, bumping their shoulders together. “I know you’ve been pretty torn up over figuring it out.”
And that jolts everybody else into action. The tone is set: take it seriously, be congratulatory. Now is not the time for poking fun at Buck for coming out six months after announcing to the world he’d been kissing a man at his sister’s wedding.
(It’s not that they wouldn’t be happy for Buck, just that sometimes it’s hard for this family to remember to be gentle first and teasing second. Especially with Buck, who usually thrives on that particular brand of familiarity and therefore isn’t always good at saying when it bothers him.)
“Oh, nice,” says Chimney.
“I’m glad you found something that fits,” Hen says.
Bobby, on his way to his seat at the head of the table, pauses to put a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, kid.”
Buck ducks his head, flushing. “Thanks, guys.”
“So these are celebratory bisexual scones?” Chim says. “Is there anything particularly bisexual about them or –“
Buck throws a napkin at him, laughing. “They were made by a bisexual. That should be enough.”
“Well, they’re delicious.”
“Shut up about the damn scones,” says Hen. “Buck, thank you for telling us.”
“Once I figured it out I think if I hadn’t sat you down to say it it would’ve just spilled out eventually, you know?” Buck says, shrugging. “I mean, like I said, it’s recontexualized, like, a lot of shit from the last few years. All that internalized homophobia really did a number on me. And that’s not even starting on all the acephobic bullshit I’ve been telling myself the last few years.”
There’s a beat, and in that moment Buck seems to catch up with what came out of his mouth and freezes up.
Then, all at once:
Bobby says, “What-phobic?”
And Chimney says, “I’m not sure if that one really applies, Buckaroo.”
And Hen says, “Did you just say ace? Like asexual?”
And Buck sits frozen.
Eddie bumps their knees together under the table. It seems to startle Buck back into motion.
“Oh, uh,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “Yeah. Ace like asexual.”
“You know that’s the one for people who don’t have sex, right?” Chimney blurts. He does seem to recognize almost immediately that this was not the right thing to say, because his mouth snaps shut so hard it sounds like it hurts.
Buck chuckles, still awkward. “Uh, yeah. That’s actually a common misconception, because it’s more about attraction than, like, celibacy, but that’s – that’s not really the point.”
“Is, uh, is that a recent development, too?” Hen says slowly.
“Uh,” says Buck. “No.”
“Right,” says Hen. “You gonna… elaborate on that?”
“I, uh,” Buck says. “Do I have to?”
“Of course you don’t, Buck,” Bobby cuts in before Hen or Chim can say anything else. “You’ve just caught us off guard.”
“Yeah, well, me too,” says Buck. He drops his head into his hands, elbows resting on the table. Eddie stretches out to drape his arm across the back of Buck’s chair – not touching him, just hovering close enough that he’ll feel it. A silent show of support. “It’s not – I’m not ashamed of it or anything. I just know you guys have – have a certain idea of me. And this isn’t that.”
“Right,” Chimney says, drawing out the vowel. “And this has been percolating for -?”
“Uh, three years?” Buck says, glancing at Eddie for confirmation.
Eddie nods. “Summer ’22, after Taylor.”
“Three years,” Buck repeats, a little firmer.
“And you,” Chimney says to Eddie, still weirdly slow, “knew about this? Buck came out to you three years ago?”
Eddie shrugs. “Yeah.”
“Of course he did, they’re –“ Hen waves across the two of them, with their chairs scooted closer together than anyone else’s, shoulder-to-shoulder and knee-to-knee. “You know how they are.”
Buck ducks his head, flushing. “Look, at the time it felt like – uh, like none of you would take it seriously? And now it’s more – nobody needs to know that about me except for my partners, so –“
“So Tommy knew,” Chimney says. “Natalia?”
“Well, no,” Buck admits.
“So you had some revelation, figured out you’re – and then you told no one?” Chimney says.
“Yeah,” says Buck, tense. “That’s about it.”
“Chim,” Bobby cuts in, scolding. “I know we’re all close here, but Buck is not obligated to tell us everything about his personal life. Clearly he was uncomfortable with sharing this, and I think I can see why.”
“It’s not just this,” Buck says softly, gesturing across at Chim. “Like I said, you know, acephobic bullshit. I was – I was really down on myself about it for a really long time. I think I told Eddie that I basically didn’t consider myself queer enough to bother coming out, which, uh, yikes. That’s been hard to let go of, you know?”
Eddie does not say yeah, I know, even though he thinks it so hard he almost actually opens his mouth. Now is not the time to open that can of worms – that’s probably a conversation for Buck and Eddie to have alone, away from the firehouse.
He grabs another scone instead.
“Well, whatever it means for you, I’m glad you figured it out,” Hen says.
Buck grins. “Yeah, uh. Me, too.”
It ends like this:
Buck is in Eddie’s living room, like always. It’s late.
“The, uh, the ace thing,” Eddie says after a long stretch of silence, broken only by the narration of the documentary they’re watching about the Fastpass system at Disney. “How are you feeling, now the team knows?”
“Good,” Buck says. He’s not looking at Eddie, gaze fixed on the graphics onscreen. Something about shapes? “Better than I thought I’d be if it ever came up, honestly.”
“Good,” says Eddie. “Because this family can be –“ He pauses, eyes flicking up toward the ceiling.
“Loud?” Buck offers, exhaling an almost chuckle along with it.
“Unfiltered,” Eddie finishes.
Buck sighs. “I know they love me. But I think I was right to be scared, you know? That was about as well as it could’ve possibly gone, and still –“ he wiggles his hand in a so-so gesture.
“Yeah,” says Eddie.
“I think that’s pretty common, though,” Buck says. “Even for people with, you know, normal families. People don’t really get asexuality. And with me – I mean, I get why it’s hard for them to wrap their heads around.”
“Well, it’s not really theirs to have trouble with,” Eddie points out. “I mean, you shouldn’t have to defend it to them, you know? Their job is to support you and try to wrap their heads around it on their own fucking time.”
“Is that what you did?” asks Buck.
“What?” says Eddie, his head whipping toward Buck. “No. You told me and I believed you. You told me and it made sense.”
Buck lets out a breath Eddie hadn’t realized he was holding, releasing it all at once along with the tension in his shoulders.
Eddie leans into him, pressing their shoulders together. Normally, he’d just bump against Buck and rock back away, but now he just leans over and stays.
“I know you different than them,” he says, very soft. “That’s what you said, back then. I think you were right.”
“Not better, just different,” Buck agrees. He’s blinking hard in that way he does when he’s willing tears not to form. “I think you might know be better, too, though.”
“I fucking hope so,” says Eddie.
Buck laughs. “Hey, uh, that reminds me. There’s something else I kind of wanted to talk to you about.”
“Yeah?”
“So, like, I’ve been reevaluating. Like, basically everything that’s ever happened in my adult life,” Buck says.
“Sounds like a lot,” says Eddie.
“Yeah.”
“Anything groundbreaking? Besides, you know,” Eddie says, “bisexual.”
Buck smiles, apparently reflexively, and Eddie wonders whether it’s because of the label he’s still new to hearing applied to him or of the casual way Eddie’s reminding him again that he’s known.
“One thing,” says Buck. He presses back against Eddie’s shoulder, their knees grazing, too. He glances downward at his restless, fidgeting hands where they rest between his legs. “And it’s – it’s a doozy.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I think,” Buck says, drawn out slow, “that I might be in love with you.”
There’s this buzz that starts up under Eddie’s skin as soon as he says it, electric. “Really?”
“Really,” Buck confirms. “And, uh, not to put words in your mouth, but I think you might be in love with me, too.”
“What makes you say that?” Eddie asks. It’s barely over a whisper, but they’re – they’re so close together.
(Fastpass, Shapeland, and Disney’s money vampire tendencies carry on softly in the background.)
“Lots of reasons,” Buck says, just as soft. “Lots of reasons that are a lot harder to brush off when, uh, sexual attraction isn’t on the table, you know? The way we’ve, uh –“ he shifts a little closer, eyes locked with Eddie’s, “we’ve kind of built our lives around each other? We’ve had keys to each other’s houses for, like, ever. And you, uh –“
“I what,” Eddie breathes.
“You gave me Chris,” says Buck. “You looked at everyone in your life and decided that if you die, your best friend should raise your son over anyone else. That’s not, uh, not standard platonic best friend behavior.”
“Well, you’re the most important person in my life after Chris. Of course I want him with you if anything happens,” Eddie says.
Buck lets out a breathy chuckle. Eddie feels it against his face. “Yeah, Eddie. And we say shit like that all the time. That’s not, you know, how everybody is with their friends. Even their best friends.”
“No?”
“And if, uh, if sexual attraction isn’t on the table,” Buck says again, “that starts to look a lot more like love. I mean, it is love, no matter what, but – romantic. It looks a lot more romantic that you’re always the first person I want to turn to. Over my sister, over Bobby, over my – my other friends. It’s always you, and it’s always been you.”
Eddie takes in a sharp, startled breath. Fucking hell.
“Well, when you put it like that,” says Eddie.
And the thing is, he’s thought about it. On and off for a while now, since Buck getting with Tommy first put the option into his head.
And Buck is… not wrong.
Buck is very, very right, actually.
“So what do you think?” whispers Buck.
“I love you,” Eddie says.
Buck kisses him.
It’s brief, just a gentle press of lips, and when he pulls away it’s only as far as to press their foreheads together instead.
“And, uh, I know this came out of the ace thing, but if you wanted to have sex –“ Buck says, his hands entangling with Eddie’s between them. “I mean, if you wanted to, we could.”
“Buck, baby, no,” says Eddie. “No, I – I don’t need that from you, okay? You said it yourself that we’re already – we’re already intimate without that, in a way I’ve never had with anyone else. I don’t need sex for this to be real to me.”
“You’re sure?”
Eddie kisses Buck again. “I’m sure. Sex is fun, but you are the most important thing. You’re the part that I need. You are enough for me, and I will tell you that as much as you need to hear it.”
“Thank you,” Buck says softly. “I love you.”
“Stay with me tonight?” Eddie asks. “I mean – sleep in the goddamn bed for once?”
Buck laughs. “Yeah, definitely. Absolutely.”
Buck dresses in his own pajamas – gym shorts with dying elastic and an LA Zoo t-shirt with the graphic almost worn away – pulled out of the dresser drawer Eddie’s kept for him for years. He uses his own toothbrush, having kept a double here since those frantic nights in the immediate aftermath of the tsunami. He flops next to Eddie on the bed without having to discuss an arrangement, they’ve shared before, and they favor opposite sides anyway.
They fall asleep tangled together. It’s easy and familiar and intimate, and maybe all of those things should’ve been a sign. But maybe neither of them were ready for this before now.
One way or another, they’ve made it here.
And the next morning, the sun feels like it’s shining a little bit brighter for the first time in months.