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The firehouse was winding down after a long morning. The smell of sweat lingered in the air, mixing with the faint scent of ash from their last call. A house fire that had turned into a longer ordeal than expected. The team was exhausted but in good spirits, the way they always were when they came out of a rough call.
Buck sat on the edge of the couch in the common room, absentmindedly loosening the laces of his boots while Hen and Chimney bickered about what to order for lunch. Bobby was flipping through some paperwork at the table, nodding along with their conversation but clearly not paying full attention. Eddie sat across from Buck, laid back in an armchair.
It was normal. Routine. Comfortable.
And then Eddie said, casually, “So, I’ve been seeing someone.”
The words hit Buck suddenly, the words feeling suffocating, completely unexpected.
His hands froze mid-motion, fingers tangled in his laces. For a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. But no, Hen and Chimney had gone silent, and Bobby had even glanced up from his paperwork. He had definitely heard right.
Eddie was looking at them, waiting for a reaction, oblivious to the way Buck’s heart had started hammering in his chest.
“Oh?” Buck forced himself to say, keeping his tone light. Totally normal. Totally fine.
Eddie nodded. “Yeah. It’s still new, but it’s good. Chris likes her.”
That part hit harder than Buck expected. Chris liked them. Whoever they were.
Buck felt something sharp lodge itself in his chest, something that made it suddenly hard to breathe. Chris was everything to Eddie, so if he liked this woman, then that meant it wasn’t just casual. It meant she was important. It meant this relationship could last.
And Buck wasn’t sure why that thought made him feel like he’d just been punched in the stomach. He didn’t care this much when Eddie had dated in the past. What’s changed?
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat and forced a smile. “That’s great, man. Really.”
The rest of the team congratulated him, happy for him.
Hen lifted an eyebrow at Buck. It was subtle, but Buck knew her well enough to recognize the look as— ‘You okay, Buckley?’
Yeah. He was fine. Of course he was. He always is.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” Chimney asked, leaning a hip against the edge of the table with his usual grin.
Eddie chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Her name’s Sofia. She’s a nurse over at St. Joseph’s. We met when Chris had his last check-up.”
A nurse. That made sense. Eddie would go for someone like that. Kind, smart, good with Christopher.
She sounds perfect for him.
Buck nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “That’s awesome, man.”
Hen’s eyes were unwavering.
The conversation moved on, but Buck barely heard it. He laughed when he was supposed to, nodded at the right moments, but his brain was stuck on a loop.
Eddie is dating someone.
It shouldn’t matter. Eddie was his best friend. His partner in work, in everything that had ever mattered. They had each other’s backs, and that wasn’t going to change just because Eddie had found someone to spend his time with outside of the firehouse.
Except why did it feel like something had changed?
By the time they were getting ready to leave, Buck felt like he had a headache coming on. He chalked it up to exhaustion and promised he’d see everyone at the next shift.
But as he walked to his car, something heavy settled in his chest. And for the first time in a long time, Buck wasn’t sure what to do with it.
The next few weeks after that were hell.
Eddie didn’t mean to talk about Sofia all the time, but it was impossible not to notice. It was little things, mentions of a date night, a comment about something she said, a text notification that made him smile.
It was normal. This was what people did when they were in a new relationship.
And Buck? Buck told himself he was happy for Eddie.
Except every time he saw that damn smile. The one Eddie got when he was texting Sofia. Buck felt something in his chest tighten. It was stupid. Irrational. He had no right to be jealous.
Jealous.
The word hit him out of nowhere one night while he was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Was that what this was? No. Couldn’t be.
Buck groaned, throwing an arm over his face. He was not jealous. He was simply… adjusting. Things were different, but that was fine.
Except it wasn’t fine. It was getting worse.
The first time Buck realized just how bad it had gotten was during a team hangout at the bar.
It was supposed to be fun, just them, no stress, no emergencies. And for a while, it was fun.
Then Eddie showed up with Sofia.
And suddenly, Buck felt like he was suffocating again.
She was nice. Too nice. The kind of nice that made it impossible to dislike her. She laughed at Chimney’s jokes, kept up with Hen’s sarcasm, even Bobby liked her.
And Eddie? Eddie glowed around her.
Buck hated it. He hated how easy it was. How right it looked.
Then, just when he thought the night couldn’t get worse.
She kissed Eddie.
It was a simple thing. A casual brush of lips, quick and affectionate. Something Buck had seen a million times in public between couples.
It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did. Something inside Buck burned.
He stood abruptly, mumbling some excuse, ignoring the way Hen gave him a look.
Then he walked out, needing air. Needing space. Needing— He didn’t know what he needed. All he knew was that something was wrong. And he had no idea how to fix it.
Buck stepped outside the bar and sucked in a deep breath, but the cool night air did little to settle the storm raging inside him. His heart was pounding, too fast, too hard. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
What the hell was wrong with him?
He shouldn’t be reacting like this. It was just a kiss. A simple, normal kiss between two people who should be together. Eddie deserved to be happy. Christopher deserved to have a mother figure again.
So why did it feel like Buck had just been sucker-punched?
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a bitter laugh. Get a grip, Buckley. This was none of his business. He was Eddie’s best friend, nothing more. He had no right to feel— Feel what exactly? He wasn’t sure. Angry? No. Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong. Upset? Maybe, but why?
Jealous?
His stomach twisted at the thought. No. No way. That’s not it. Except… wasn’t it?
The idea made his chest ache in a way he didn’t want to examine too closely. Because if he was jealous, if he did feel something more than friendship for Eddie— Then what did that mean? And more importantly, what the hell was he supposed to do about it?
Buck had no idea how long he stood outside, staring at nothing, lost in his own swirling thoughts. He might’ve stayed there all night if the sound of the door swinging open behind him hadn’t startled him back to reality.
He turned, expecting to see Eddie coming to check on him.
But of course, it was Hen. Because Hen always knew when something was up.
She stepped up beside him, crossing her arms, and giving him a look. The one that said ‘I know exactly what’s going on, so just save us both the trouble and spill it.’
Buck sighed, leaning against the brick wall. “If you’re here to lecture me, don’t.”
Hen huffed a laugh. “Who said anything about a lecture? Maybe I just wanted some fresh air.”
Buck shot her a sideways glance. “Uh-huh.”
She waited a moment, then said, “You gonna tell me what’s going on, or do I have to drag it out of you?”
“There’s nothing going on.” The lie tasted awful the second it left his mouth.
Hen hummed like she didn’t believe him. Which, of course, she didn’t.
“Right,” she said. “So, you just happened to leave the bar the second Eddie and Sofia kissed?”
Buck winced. “It’s not—” He sighed. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Buck.”
Damn her and her all-knowing tone.
He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling harshly. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Hen tilted her head. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Buck.” She assured, raising a gentle hand to settle across his shoulder. “But there is something bothering you.”
Hen gave him a minute, like she knew he was struggling, then nudged him gently. “Buck… be honest with yourself for a second. Why did that kiss bother you so much?”
He opened his mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth was sitting right there, in the center of his chest, refusing to be ignored.
He swallowed hard. His voice was quieter when he finally spoke. “Because it wasn’t me.”
Hen didn’t look surprised. If anything, she looked relieved, like he’d just confirmed something she’d known all along.
“Yeah,” she said simply. “That’s what I thought.”
Buck let out a shaky laugh. “God, Hen. What the hell do I do?”
Hen sighed, nudging his shoulder. “Well, first? You stop lying to yourself. Because this—” she gestured between them, like she was pointing out his entire emotional mess “—has been obvious for a long time.”
“Has it?” he asked, only half joking.
Hen gave him a pointed look. “Uh, yeah. The way you look at him? The way you treat Christopher like he’s your own? You two are basically an old married couple without the kissing part.”
Buck groaned. “That’s not—”
“It is, Buck. You just didn’t want to see it.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Because, yeah. Maybe she was right.
Scratch that. She was right.
But knowing it was one thing. Admitting it? Doing something about it? That was something else entirely.
Hen gave him a moment, then softened. “Look… I know this is a lot. And I know it’s scary. But Buck, you owe it to yourself to figure this out.”
Buck sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I know.”
She squeezed his arm. “Good. Now, you wanna go back inside, or do you need more time to have your little gay panic out here?”
Buck snorted despite himself. “Jesus, Hen.”
She grinned. “I’m just saying.”
He huffed but shook his head. “I think I’m gonna head home.”
Hen nodded like she expected that. “Alright. But Buck?”
He glanced at her.
“Don’t run from this,” she said gently. “You can pretend all you want, but at the end of the day, your heart already knows what it wants.”
Buck swallowed. “Yeah.” His voice was rough. “I think that’s what scares me the most.”
Hen just gave him a knowing smile. “You’ll figure it out.”
And with that, she squeezed his shoulder once and disappeared back into the bar, leaving Buck alone with his thoughts. Alone with the truth he could no longer ignore.
Buck didn’t go home.
He thought about it, sure. He even made it as far as unlocking his Jeep and gripping the steering wheel, ready to pull away from the curb.
But his mind wouldn’t shut off. Hen’s words echoed in his head.
Your heart already knows what it wants.
And for the first time, Buck wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight it anymore. So instead of going home, he drove.
He didn’t have a destination in mind, he just let the streets guide him, let the city lights blur past his windows as he tried to make sense of the chaos in his head.
What was he supposed to do with this?
It wasn’t like he’d never thought about Eddie in a certain way before. Buck wasn’t an idiot, he knew Eddie was attractive. Objectively, undeniably attractive. He’d have to be blind not to notice.
But it had never been like that. Or at least, Buck had convinced himself it wasn’t. Because Eddie was his best friend. His person. The one constant in his life that made sense, even when nothing else did.
And now? Now it felt like the ground was shifting beneath his feet, and he had no idea how to stop it.
What if he’d felt this way the whole time?
The thought hit him so suddenly, so brutally, that he physically tensed behind the wheel. Because—hadn’t he? Hadn’t there always been something there, lurking beneath the surface? Hadn’t he always felt a little too protective, a little too involved? Hadn’t he always been the one Eddie called first, the one he relied on, the one who was just… there?
And hadn’t Buck wanted that? Hadn’t he loved it?
His grip on the wheel tightened. Jesus Christ. He was an idiot. A complete and utter idiot.
Because if this feeling, this unbearable, suffocating ache, had been inside him this whole time, then what did that say about him? How long had he been in love with Eddie Diaz without even realizing it? And what the hell was he supposed to do now?
Buck found himself parked outside his own apartment nearly an hour later, still gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. The city had grown quiet. Late night traffic was sparse, the distant hum of cars passing by barely registering in his ears.
His phone sat on the passenger seat, screen dark. No messages from Eddie.
He didn’t know why he expected one. Eddie hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one acting like a goddamn lunatic. With a groan, Buck leaned his head back against the seat, staring up at the fabric of his Jeep’s roof.
Maybe this was just a phase. Maybe he was overthinking things, and in a few weeks, everything would go back to normal.
Except he knew himself too well. And nothing had ever been normal when it came to Eddie.
His mind flashed back to a hundred different moments, all stacking on top of each other like damning pieces of evidence.
The way his chest had hurt unbearably the day Eddie was shot, how he’d nearly lost his mind waiting for news, how it had felt like he couldn’t breathe until he saw him awake, alive, there.
The way Eddie had chosen him to be Christopher’s guardian, like it was the most obvious choice in the world.
The way they just fit together, always moving in sync, always watching each other’s backs.
And now, the way it felt like something inside him was breaking at the thought of Eddie being with someone else.
Shit. This wasn’t just a phase. This wasn’t something he could shove down, ignore, and pretend it didn’t exist.
This was real. And it was terrifying.
Buck let out a slow, shaky breath and reached for his phone before he could talk himself out of it. His fingers hovered over Eddie’s contact.
What would he even say? ‘Hey, man, I think I might be in love with you, and I have no idea what to do about it. I hope that’s cool!’
Yeah. Not happening.
He sighed and dropped his phone back onto the seat. He wasn’t ready. Hell, he didn’t even know if he’d ever be ready. Because even if he was in love with Eddie, even if this feeling wasn’t going away anytime soon—What was the point?
Eddie was happy. He had Sofia. He had a future that Buck wasn’t a part of in the way he wanted to be. And if Buck told him, if he somehow ruined what they already had— He wasn’t sure he could survive that.
Because losing Eddie? That wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.
——
Buck was drowning.
Not in the way he had on that damn ladder truck years ago, gasping for breath while water filled his lungs. No, this was worse. This was slow, suffocating, and entirely self-inflicted.
Because ever since that night at the bar, ever since he admitted, to himself, to Hen, to the goddamn universe, that he wanted to be with Eddie, everything had changed.
Or at least, he had. And he had no idea how to hide it.
The problem was, nothing else had changed. Eddie was still Eddie, still flashing that easy smile, still bumping Buck’s shoulder in passing, still holding out a beer after a long shift had ended like nothing was different.
Because for Eddie, nothing was different. And that was the worst part, because for Buck? Everything was.
Buck had convinced himself that he could handle this. That he could just push it down, act like nothing had happened, be the same best friend he’d always been.
And for a while, he actually thought he was pulling it off.
Until the staring started.
It wasn’t new, he’d always looked at Eddie, maybe more than he should. But now? Now it was different. Now he knew why. And once that realization settled, there was no stopping it.
His eyes tracked Eddie more than usual, lingering on the way his jaw tensed when he concentrated, and the way he rolled his sleeves up when it got hot.
He was hyper aware of every brush of their shoulders, every time Eddie called his name, every goddamn thing about him. And it was torture. Because Eddie didn’t notice. Didn’t see the way Buck was unraveling right in front of him. Didn’t realize that every casual touch, every easy laugh, every damn glance was killing him. And Buck was too much of a coward to do anything about it. So he did the only thing he could do. He distanced himself.
It started with small things.
Buck skipped their usual weekly coffee runs, claiming he was too tired. He kept his answers short, avoided eye contact, buried himself in work.
But Eddie wasn’t stupid. And it didn’t take long for him to catch on.
“You good, Buck?” Eddie asked one day, frowning as Buck hurried past him toward the locker room.
“Yeah, man. Just tired,” Buck lied, forcing a smile that probably looked as fake as it felt.
Eddie didn’t look convinced. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Buck said too quickly, too sharply. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Eddie studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright. If you say so.”
Buck exhaled as Eddie walked away, but the relief was short lived.
Because the longer this went on, the more Eddie watched him. And Buck wasn’t sure how long he could keep pretending everything was fine.
It all came to a head on a call.
A routine car accident, two vehicles, minimal injuries. It should’ve been simple.
But then one of the car’s gas line ruptured. And suddenly, it wasn’t.
Buck barely had time to react before flames shot up from under the crumpled hood of one of the cars. The fire spread fast, licking at the pavement, creeping dangerously close to the person that was still trapped inside. The passenger was screaming from the pain of the heat.
And Buck didn’t think. He moved.
He sprinted toward the car, ignoring his team members shouts, ignoring the way the heat singed his turnout. He could hear Eddie cursing loudly behind him, could feel the weight of his partner’s gaze following after him.
But none of it mattered. Not when there were people inside. Not when he could do something.
He yanked the door open, barely registering the way his hands burned from the heat. “Come on!” he shouted, reaching for the woman inside. “We gotta move, now!”
She hesitated for only a second before grabbing his hand. He pulled her out just as the flames surged higher, just as the fire started creeping toward the gas tank.
And then—
A strong hand grabbed his arm, yanking him and the woman backward so hard he nearly lost his footing.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Eddie’s voice was sharp, furious.
Buck barely had time to register the explosion behind them before Eddie was in his face, eyes blazing with something dangerous.
“You ran into a fire, Buck!” Eddie’s grip tightened on his arm. “What the hell were you thinking? You knew that car was going to explode!”
Chimney and Hen came into view, making quick work of escorting the woman toward the ambulance, sharing worried glances at the two.
Buck wrenched his arm free from Eddie’s hold, scowling. “I was thinking I could save her!”
“And what if you didn’t make it out?” Eddie snapped. “What then?”
Buck swallowed hard, his pulse still racing. He hadn’t thought about that.
Eddie exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Buck.” His voice was quieter now, raw.
Buck hated the way it made his chest hurt.
“I’m fine,” he said, forcing the words out.
Eddie’s eyes met his, searching, like he was looking for something.
Then he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
The ride back to the station was silent.
Not the easy kind of silence Buck was used to with Eddie. The comfortable quiet that came from knowing each other too well, from long shifts spent side by side. No, this was different. This was thick, heavy.
Eddie had his hands clasped tightly together, his jaw locked so hard Buck could hear his teeth grinding.
And Buck? Buck stared out the window, willing himself not to look over.
Because if he did, if he met Eddie’s gaze, if he saw the way his partner was still upset, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.
The moment they pulled into the station, Eddie got out without a word. And Buck—stupid, reckless, Buck—followed him. Because he wasn’t sure he could take the silence any longer.
Eddie was halfway to the locker room when Buck finally spoke.
“Okay, what is your problem?”
Eddie stopped dead in his tracks.
Oh shit, why did he say that?
When Eddie turned around, Buck almost stepped back.
Because Eddie wasn’t just angry. He was furious.
“My problem?” Eddie’s voice was sharp, low. He took a step closer, eyes locked onto Buck, stormy. “My problem is that you ran into a fire like you had a death wish!”
Buck clenched his jaw. “I saved her, didn’t I?”
“That is not the point!” Eddie’s voice rose, and Buck flinched, just barely. Eddie’s eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but then his frustration surged back, boiling over. “You don’t think, Buck! You never think when it comes to your own damn life!”
Buck scoffed, folding his arms. If Eddie’s going to be pissed, he might as well be too. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize saving people was a bad thing.”
Eddie took another step forward, and suddenly there wasn’t much space between them.
“This isn’t about the job,” Eddie snapped. “This is about you. This is about you throwing yourself into danger like you don’t care what happens to you!”
Buck’s breath went uneven. Because that—that hit too close.
“I—” Buck started, but he had nothing. No defense. No words.
Because Eddie was right. And they both knew it.
Eddie exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’ve been off, Buck. For weeks. And now you’re pulling reckless shit like this?” His voice softened, but there was something raw behind it. Something that made Buck’s chest ache again. “Talk to me, man. What’s going on?”
Buck’s throat tightened. He couldn’t do this.
Not here. Not now. Not when Eddie was looking at him like that, like he actually cared, like he was worried. Like Buck mattered.
So instead, he did what he always did when things got too hard. He ran. Not literally, but he may as well have.
“Nothing,” Buck muttered, stepping back. His voice was hollow. “I’m just tired.”
Eddie’s jaw clenched. “Bullshit.”
Buck forced an unsteady grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
Eddie stared at him, searching, waiting, like he was begging Buck to just say something real.
But Buck couldn’t.
So he turned and walked away. And this time, Eddie didn’t stop him. But the weight of his gaze burned into Buck’s back the whole way. And for the first time in a long time—
Buck wished he would.
Buck didn’t stop moving until he was outside. The cool night air hit him, sharp and grounding. He sucked in a deep breath, grinding his palms together as he tried to steady himself.
His heart was still racing. His skin felt too tight, his mind too loud. Because everything Eddie had said was right. He hadn’t been thinking. He had been reckless. And maybe, deep down, he had wanted the fire to swallow him whole.
Not because he wanted to die. But because for a few minutes, it had been easier to run toward the flames than deal with what was happening inside his own head. And that scared the hell out of him.
A heavy sigh pulled him out of his thoughts.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on now, or do you want to keep running in circles?”
Buck tensed. Because it wasn’t Eddie this time.
It was Hen. Of course it was Hen. She knew him too well.
Buck didn’t turn around. Didn’t move. But Hen didn’t need him to.
She walked up beside him, leaning against the station wall with that patient, knowing look of hers.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck muttered.
Hen huffed out a laugh. “Come on, Buckaroo.”
Buck closed his eyes.
“You’ve been acting weird.” she continued, voice softer now. “And now you’re out here looking like you’re about to fall apart at the seams.” She nudged him lightly. “So, you gonna tell me what’s up? Or do I have to guess?”
Buck let out a shaky breath. Because God, he wanted to tell her. But saying it out loud made it real. And real was terrifying.
Hen must’ve seen the battle playing out in his head, because her voice gentled even more. “You don’t have to tell me everything,” she said. “But at least tell me this, does it have anything to do with Eddie?”
Buck didn’t say anything, and that was answer enough.
Hen sighed, crossing her arms. “Buck…”
“I—” His throat was tight. He shook his head, staring down at his hands like they held the answer to everything. “I don’t know what to do, Hen.”
Hen didn’t push. Didn’t rush him. She just waited. And eventually, the words spilled out.
“I think I’m in love with him.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And I have no idea what to do about it.”
For a moment, Hen said nothing.
And then. “I thought we’d already talked about this Buck?”
Buck groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I knew I liked him, but this? I’m in deeper than I thought.”
Hen chuckled, but there was warmth behind it. “Look, I know this is scary. And I know you’re overthinking every possible way this could go wrong.” She nudged him, gentle. “But Buck… have you ever stopped to consider that maybe it could go right?”
Buck swallowed hard. Because no. He hadn’t. Because if he let himself hope, if he let himself want. And it didn’t work out? He didn’t think he’d survive that.
Hen must’ve seen the fear in his eyes, because she sighed and rested a hand on his arm.
“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” she said. “But you do have to stop running from it.”
Buck hesitated. Then, finally, he nodded. And for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe.
By the time Buck left the station, the weight in his chest was still there, but it wasn’t quite as crushing.
He wasn’t okay. Not yet. But at least now, he wasn’t pretending he was.
He drove home on autopilot, replaying the night’s events over and over in his head. The fire. The explosion. Eddie’s anger. The way his voice had shaken. Like he cared. Like he was scared.
And that was what terrified Buck the most. Because if Eddie cared that much… Did that mean there was hope? Or was Buck just setting himself up for heartbreak? He didn’t know. But for the first time, he thought maybe he was ready to find out.
——
Buck barely slept.
Even after talking to Hen, even after admitting to himself, out loud, that he was in love with Eddie, his mind refused to shut off. Because knowing the truth didn’t make it easier. It just made it harder to ignore.
By the time morning came, he felt like a ghost in his own body, running on coffee and sheer stubbornness. But that didn’t stop his stomach from twisting when his phone buzzed with a message.
Eddie: Chris wants to see you. Dinner at my place tonight?
Buck exhaled slowly.
It was nothing new. He had dinner at Eddie’s all the time. But after last night, after everything. It didn’t feel normal anymore. It felt like standing on the edge of something dangerous. And Buck didn’t know if he was ready for it.
Buck: Yeah, of course.
Because ready or not, he couldn’t say no to Christopher.
Buck knew the second he stepped into the station that Eddie wasn’t done with him. He felt it in the way Eddie watched him, eyes sharp and unreadable. In the way he hovered just a little too close, like he was waiting for the right moment to push.
And Buck wasn’t ready to be pushed. So he did what he did best. He deflected. Dodged Eddie’s attempts to talk. Cracked jokes that didn’t quite land. Buried himself in work, in calls, in anything that would keep him from having to deal with this.
But Eddie wasn’t Hen. He wasn’t patient. And Buck should have known he wouldn’t let this go.
It happened after a routine call. A minor house fire, no major damage. Buck was rolling up the hose when Eddie appeared beside him, arms crossed, expression set.
“Talk to me.”
Buck sighed, shaking his head. “Not now, Eddie.”
Eddie didn’t budge. “Then when?”
Buck clenched his jaw. “I don’t know, okay?” His voice was sharper than he meant it to be, but he couldn’t stop it. “Just, drop it.”
Eddie’s eyes darkened. “You think I can just drop it after what happened? After watching you run into a fire like you didn’t care if you made it out?” He stepped closer, voice low. “Because I can’t, Buck.”
Buck swallowed hard.
Because Eddie was right there, inches away, close enough that Buck could see the frustration in his eyes.
And it was too much. So Buck did what he always did when things got too real. He ran. Again.
“Gotta finish packing up,” he muttered, turning away.
And this time, Eddie let him go. But Buck knew, he wouldn’t let this go forever.
By the time Buck knocked on Eddie’s door that evening, he was exhausted in every way possible. He didn’t know how to face Eddie, how to pretend like everything was normal when it wasn’t.
But then the door flew open, and Christopher grinned up at him, and for a moment everything else faded.
“Buck!” Chris wrapped his arms around him, holding on tight.
Buck smiled, hugging him back. “Hey! You been keeping your dad out of trouble?”
Chris laughed. “I try, but he’s really bad at listening.”
Buck smirked. “Tell me about it.”
Chris grabbed ahold of him, tugging him inside. “Come on, we’re watching a movie!”
Buck followed, but the second he stepped inside, he felt Eddie’s gaze on him. It was different than at work, less frustration, more something else. Something softer. Something Buck didn’t know how to handle. So he focused on Chris. But that didn’t mean he missed the way Eddie’s eyes lingered. Didn’t mean he didn’t feel it.
They ended up on the couch, Chris tucked in close to him, watching Transformers for the hundredth time. Eddie, in the kitchen getting snack. And Buck almost convinced himself that this was normal. That nothing had changed.
But then Chris turned to him, out of nowhere, and asked—
“Buck, why don’t you just marry my dad?”
Buck choked.
And Chris, sweet, innocent, completely oblivious Chris, just blinked at them like he hadn’t just thrown a grenade into the room.
“Uh, what?” Buck’s voice cracked.
Chris shrugged. “You love each other, right?”
Buck’s brain short-circuited.
“I—” Buck’s mouth opened, then closed.
Chris frowned. “Is something wrong?”
That snapped Buck out of it.
“No,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “You just surprised me, buddy.”
Chris nodded like that made sense. “It just seems obvious.” he said. “You’re my favorite people.”
Buck’s chest ached. How was he going to explain this away?
“Marriage is a little more complicated than that buddy.” Buck said, turning back to the movie, hoping Christopher drops the subject.
Eddie came back in not too soon after, armed with snacks in both arms.
Christopher fell asleep before the movie ended.
Eddie carried him to bed, and Buck stood there, stuck in his own head, still reeling from what Chris had said. Because maybe Chris was right. Maybe this wasn’t as complicated as Buck made it.
“Buck.”
Eddie’s voice was quiet, but Buck still jumped.
He turned, heart racing, to find Eddie standing there, watching him with something different in his eyes. Something real.
And Buck wanted to tell him everything. But he was scared. So, like always, he started to run.
“I should go,” he muttered, stepping toward the door.
“Oh, okay.” Eddie replied, confused. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah, of course.” Buck gave a quick nod, rushing out the door.
—-
He felt it the next day, the air between them charged with something too big to ignore. Eddie’s eyes lingered, and his voice was softer.
But Buck wasn’t ready. Because taking that step meant risking everything. So he spent the entire shift pretending nothing had changed. Kept his distance. Focused on work, on anything but the way Eddie was watching him. Like he wasn’t going to let this go. And Buck knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be able to run forever.
It all happened in the locker room.
Most of the team had already left, but Buck was lingering, taking his time stuffing his gear into his locker. That was his mistake. Because when the door swung shut with a quiet click, and Buck turned, he found Eddie standing there.
Blocking the exit.
His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were sharp. Determined.
“You’ve been acting weird for weeks.”
Buck swallowed. Forced himself to meet Eddie’s gaze, even as his stomach twisted.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eddie let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “Don’t do that, Buck.”
Buck stiffened. “Do what?”
“Pretend.” Eddie’s voice was low, edged with something frustrated. Something hurt.
Buck’s throat went dry. Because that was exactly what he was doing. And Eddie knew it.
“Just tell me what’s going on,” Eddie said, softer now, stepping closer. “Whatever it is, just say it.”
Buck wanted to. God, he wanted to. But if he said it, if he let this out. There would be no taking it back. So he clenched his jaw, shook his head, and tried, once again to run from it.
“I can’t.” he muttered, turning away.
But Eddie wasn’t letting him go.
“Why not?”
Buck breathed out. He felt Eddie behind him, warm and solid and so close. And suddenly, the weight of it, all this time spent avoiding this, of pretending, of watching Eddie go on dates that made Buck sick—
It was too much.
It all crashed into him at once, a tidal wave of jealousy, longing, fear.
And he snapped.
“Because I can’t stand seeing you with her!”
His own voice echoed in the small space, loud and unfiltered. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his chest heaving.
Eddie froze.
Buck could feel his stare burning into him, but he couldn’t stop now. Not when it was already out.
“Why can’t it be me?” Buck said, voice breaking, barely above a whisper.
Silence.
The kind that stretches too long, thick and suffocating, making Buck’s stomach drop.
And then, when Eddie finally spoke, his voice was too quiet.
“Buck…”
Buck’s pulse hammered. He turned slowly, forcing himself to look at Eddie. His face was unreadable, lips parted, breath uneven, like Buck had knocked the air out of him.
But he wasn’t saying anything. Just, staring.
Buck’s chest tightened. His heart pounding against his ribs. And suddenly, that silence was worse than anything.
He needed to get out. Now.
“Forget it,” Buck muttered, stepping past him. “Just—forget I said anything.”
But Eddie moved before he could escape. Not to stop him. Just enough to brush against him, fingertips skimming Buck’s wrist, barely holding on.
It froze Buck in place.
And Eddie’s voice was softer now. Like it hurt to speak.
“Buck…”
His name wasn’t a question. It was something else. Something fragile. Something real.
And Buck— Buck couldn’t take it.
He shook his head, pulling back, voice breaking. “Just let me go, Eddie.”
And this time, Eddie did. And then Buck was alone.
Again.
Time dragged on. The rest of the shift was hell. Eddie didn’t say another word to him. Didn’t even look at him.
And that? That hurt more than anything.
By the time Buck got home, his head was spinning, his hands shaking. Because he’d finally said it. And now? Maybe he was about to lose everything.
The knock came hours later.
Soft. But definite.
Buck’s heart stopped. Because he knew. He didn’t even have to check. He knew.
He opened the door. Eddie was standing there. Looking terrified.
Buck swallowed hard. “Eddie—”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
The words came fast, like Eddie had been holding them in all night.
Buck sighed softly.
“You won’t,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.
Eddie exhaled sharply. “You say that like it’s easy.”
Buck let out a bitter laugh. “It’s not.”
Eddie stepped forward, close enough that Buck could feel his warmth. Buck’s heart stopped. And before he could think, before he could doubt, before he could run, Eddie reached up, cupped his face—
And kissed him.
Soft, at first. Like he was afraid. Like he wasn’t sure if Buck would let him. But Buck melted into it, hands tangling in Eddie’s hoodie, pulling him in. And just like that, the fear, the doubt, the running, it all stopped.
Because this had been waiting for them all along. And Buck? Buck wasn’t running anymore.
Eddie’s lips were warm, hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure if Buck would push him away. But Buck wasn’t going anywhere.
His fingers curled into Eddie’s hoodie, holding him close as he fell into the kiss. And that was what it felt like, falling, like stepping off a ledge, just trusting that Eddie would be there to catch him.
The kiss was slow, almost uncertain, like neither of them could quite believe it was happening. Eddie’s hands trembled slightly where they rested against Buck’s jaw, one of his thumbs skimming along his cheekbone in the softest, most gentle touch Buck had ever felt.
Buck tilted his head to deepen the kiss, letting go. Because this was everything he had been fighting. And he was done fighting.
Eddie made a soft noise and suddenly he wasn’t just standing there, he was pressing in, walking Buck backward until his spine met the doorframe. The kiss grew more intense, more desperate, like the dam had finally broken.
And Buck never wanted it to stop. But then—
Eddie pulled away, breathing hard, pupils blown wide. His hands were still cradling Buck’s face, like he was afraid to let go, like he still wasn’t sure if this was real.
Buck was afraid to speak, afraid to move, afraid that one wrong word would make Eddie run.
Then Eddie swallowed hard, stepping back.
Buck felt the loss immediately, cold air rushing in where Eddie’s body had been.
The silence stretched. Neither of them moved.
Eddie’s eyes were what made Buck stop breathing. Because they were soft. Nervous. But sure.
Eddie licked his lips, shifting on his feet. “I—” He stopped, exhaled hard.
Then, finally—
“I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid.”
Buck didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched him.
Eddie took another breath.
“You were right,” he said, voice steadier now.
Buck’s throat felt tight.
“About what?” he whispered.
Eddie held his gaze.
“You,” he said. “It should be you. I broke up with Sofia this morning, I just didn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”
Buck swayed slightly, like his knees might give out.
“Realize?”
Eddie gave a soft smile. “That it’s you.”
And then Eddie was there, crowding into Buck’s space like he couldn’t stand the distance anymore.
Buck barely had a second to process before Eddie’s hands were on his face again, warm and steady, pulling him into another kiss. More certain. His hands stayed firm on Buck’s face, like he was anchoring himself.
And Buck didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Buck was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t some cruel dream when Eddie’s forehead pressed against his, breath warm and uneven.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Eddie admitted, voice rough, broken open in a way Buck had never heard before. “I don’t—I don’t even know where to start.”
Buck swallowed, hard, trying to fight the tightness in his chest.
“You don’t have to,” he murmured. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”
Eddie exhaled, a shuddering breath that felt like letting go.
“I just—I need you to know,” he said, voice quiet but urgent, like the words were fighting to be set free. “I’ve never felt like this before, Buck. Not with anyone. Not like this.”
Buck’s throat closed up.
He wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of Eddie’s words was too much, too important.
Eddie’s fingers curled against his jaw. “And that scares the hell out of me.” Eddie let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve been fighting this for so long. Telling myself it wasn’t real, that I was imagining it, that it didn’t matter—”
He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Buck’s eyes.
“But it does,” he whispered. “It always has.”
Buck’s heart was hammering, the ache in his chest impossible to ignore.
Eddie sighed, looking away for a second, rubbing his thumb against Buck’s cheek absentmindedly.
“And I’m still scared,” he admitted. “Because this is new for me. And because if I screw this up—” His voice caught. “If I lose you—”
Buck couldn’t take it anymore. He reached up, grasping Eddie’s hand, grounding them both.
“You’re not gonna lose me,” he said fiercely, holding his gaze. “That’s not gonna happen, Eddie. No matter what.”
Eddie searched his face, like he was looking for proof. And then, finally, he nodded. Like he believed it. Like he trusted Buck to keep his word.
Buck let out a shaky breath.
Eddie’s hands slipped from his face, but he didn’t step away. Instead, he curled his fingers around Buck’s, holding on.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so slow,” Eddie murmured. “I just—I needed a second to get my head screwed on right.”
Buck squeezed his hand. “Yeah. I get it.”
Eddie huffed out a quiet laugh. “No, you don’t. Because my head has never been on right when it comes to you.”
Buck’s lips parted, a sudden stunned sort of feeling settling in his chest.
Eddie smirked, but it was soft, a little self-deprecating. “You drive me crazy.”
Buck let out a choked laugh, relieved, overwhelmed, everything at once.
“I’ve been doing that since you met me.” he teased, voice shaking slightly.
But then Eddie’s expression turned serious again.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he repeated, voice soft, honest, raw. “But I want to. I want to try.”
Buck felt something break open inside of him.
“Me too,” he whispered.
Eddie exhaled, like that was the only answer he needed. And then, he pulled Buck into his arms.
Buck melted into it, into the warmth, the certainty of Eddie’s hold, of the way he clung to Buck like he was something precious. And for the first time in weeks, months, maybe even years—
Buck felt safe. Felt wanted. Felt loved.
And he wasn’t going to run from it anymore.