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The shift had been long.
Nothing catastrophic. No multi-car pileups or building collapses. But the kind of day that leaves you tired in a way sleep won’t fix. The kind of shift where the world feels a little too heavy on your shoulders, and the quiet ride back to the station becomes more than just silence — it’s the sound of thoughts piling up.
So when Eddie clapped him on the back in the locker room and said, “Come by for a beer? Chris has been asking about you,” Buck nodded.
And maybe he smiled a little too quickly.
It had been a while since he’d been over to Eddie’s place. Weeks, maybe. Life had gotten in the way — calls, late nights, half-made plans. But the moment he stepped into that familiar little living room, something inside Buck exhaled.
Eddie tossed him a beer from the fridge. Buck caught it one-handed and raised it like a toast.
“To another day of not dying,” he joked.
“To surviving L.A. one dumpster fire at a time,” Eddie said with a crooked grin.
They settled onto the couch, Christopher flopped sideways in a blanket cocoon on the floor, half-watching Finding Nemo. Buck smiled watching him — the kid had gotten taller, his hair was longer. How long had it actually been?
“Missed this,” Buck said softly, more to himself than anything.
Eddie leaned back, bottle balanced on his knee. “Yeah. Me too.”
For a while, they just talked. Dumb stuff. Calls from the day. Chim’s failed protein shake experiment. Christopher jumping in with random facts and questions every few minutes.
It felt good. Too good.
And that’s probably why Buck didn’t see it coming.
“So,” Eddie said, casually, like he wasn’t about to ruin Buck’s entire emotional stability. “I’ve been seeing Ana again.”
The room didn’t go silent — the TV was still playing, Christopher was still talking — but something inside Buck definitely did.
“Oh.” He tried to sound normal. “That’s… great. She’s great.”
Eddie gave a small smile. “Yeah. It’s been nice. Just started talking again a few weeks ago.”
Buck nodded, too quickly. “Cool, yeah. No, that’s great. Seriously.”
He took a big sip of his beer. Too big. Burned his throat a little.
God, this wasn’t supposed to hurt. He wasn’t supposed to care this much.
But the truth had been creeping up on him for months now — in the way his chest felt lighter every time Eddie laughed. In the way his stomach twisted when Ana showed up at the station. In how natural it felt to imagine a life built around this — not just the job, but Eddie. Christopher. The dinners, the beers, the quiet nights in.
And now, Buck was watching it slip away — because Eddie was dating someone else, and Buck had been too much of a coward to admit it mattered.
He could tell something was off with Buck.
It wasn’t obvious. Buck still smiled at Chris, still laughed at the movie, still made fun of Eddie’s worn-out slippers. But something in his eyes — distant, maybe — told a different story.
Was it the shift? A bad call? Something Bobby said?
Eddie wanted to ask, but Buck had always been a little tricky when it came to himself. He was the first to step into danger, the first to comfort someone else — but when it came to his own feelings, Buck usually shut the door and threw away the key.
Still, there was something about the way Buck tensed up when he mentioned Ana that made Eddie pause.
It wasn’t like it was a big announcement. Just a casual mention. He and Ana had reconnected recently — nothing serious yet, just dinners and texts. He didn’t even know what it was, exactly.
But Buck’s reaction had been... too neutral. Too forced.
He filed the thought away. He'd ask Buck later, when Chris wasn’t around and the moment wasn’t so weird. Maybe Buck was just surprised. Maybe it had nothing to do with him.
Or maybe — and this was a thought Eddie didn’t like having — maybe it had everything to do with him.
Buck left Eddie’s house with a half-empty beer bottle in his hand and way too many thoughts in his head.
He told Christopher goodnight with a smile that felt fake on his face. Told Eddie thanks for the beer. Said they’d hang out again soon.
But as he walked to his Jeep, he felt like a balloon with the air slowly leaking out.
He got in, closed the door, and sat in silence.
His phone buzzed — a message from Hen in the group chat. A meme Chim had sent. Nothing important.
The world felt too loud.
He pulled up his photo app. Scrolled through his camera roll.
There were so many pictures of the 118. And so many of Eddie and Christopher. Halloween. Game nights. Quiet moments.
And so many with him and Eddie. Always next to each other. Always touching in some small way — an arm on a shoulder, a hand on a back.
Had he really been this blind?
Buck sat there for another five minutes before opening his browser.
He didn’t know what he was looking for until he typed it in.
Flights to Paris.
By the time the sun was creeping through the blinds the next morning, Buck had already made a decision. He didn’t even really think about it, didn’t give himself the chance to talk himself out of it.
He called Bobby at 6:03 a.m. because that was the only thing he could think of that made sense.
“I need a few days off,” he said, voice rough from the lack of sleep. “I just... need to get away.”
There was a pause on the other end, but Bobby didn’t question him. That was the thing about Bobby — he knew when something was up, but he also knew Buck well enough to know when to step back.
“Take what you need,” Bobby said. And that was it. Simple.
Buck hung up and didn’t waste another second. He opened his laptop, found the first flight to Paris, and booked it. No hesitation. Just the quiet hum of a credit card number being entered, the soft click of confirmation. He was going to Paris.
He didn’t know why Paris, but it felt like the right kind of escape. The kind of place where no one would look at him and ask why he wasn’t with Eddie. The kind of place where his thoughts could get lost in the noise of a foreign city and maybe, just maybe, he could figure out what the hell he was doing with his life.
He texted Bobby to let him know. And that was it. No one else needed to know.
Eddie didn’t need to know.
He grabbed a duffle bag from the back of his closet, threw some clothes in, and locked the door behind him without looking back.
Eddie sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee and trying to ignore the nagging thought in his mind. Something was wrong with Buck. He could feel it in the way Buck had looked at him the night before, in the way he had barely said goodbye.
But there was nothing he could do. Not yet, anyway. He’d wait until Buck reached out — and knowing Buck, he would.
It wasn’t until late afternoon when Bobby texted him.
Bobby: Buck took a few days off. Flying to Paris. He didn’t say why.
Eddie stared at the message for longer than was probably healthy. Paris? Of all places, Buck had chosen Paris.
It was a strange thought. Not because Paris wasn’t a beautiful city — hell, Eddie had always wanted to go. But Buck didn’t take breaks like that. He didn’t just drop everything and go somewhere for no reason.
Something was wrong. Something Eddie didn’t quite understand yet.
But he would. He would find out.
Paris was exactly what he needed. It didn’t answer any of his questions, but it was a distraction, and that was all he could ask for right now.
The first night was a blur of sights and sounds. The Eiffel Tower glittered in the distance like a promise, the lights of the city felt like they had a heartbeat all their own. Buck wandered through the streets with a bottle of wine in hand, smiling at the beauty of it all but never quite feeling like he belonged.
He was supposed to be running away, right?
But instead of feeling free, he just felt... lonely.
He found himself at the Eiffel Tower at sunset, watching the crowd below. Tourists snapping photos, couples walking hand in hand, and then there was him — a firefighter in jeans and a hoodie, lost in the glow of Paris, wondering how he’d gotten so far away from everything he knew.
As if the universe was trying to make him feel even more out of place, a voice broke through the hum of conversation.
“Excusez-moi,” the voice said. “Are you lost?”
Buck turned. There, standing in front of him, was a guy in a navy sweater and jeans. Dark hair, a kind smile, and eyes that crinkled when he laughed.
“Uh, no,” Buck said, shaking his head. “Just... thinking, I guess.”
The guy shrugged. “Well, you’re in the right place for thinking. Paris does that to you.”
They both laughed, and Buck felt the knot in his chest loosen just a little.
“My name’s Marco,” the guy said, holding out his hand.
“Buck,” Buck replied, shaking it. “You’re... not a tourist?”
“Parisian, born and raised,” Marco said with a wink. “You?”
“Not even close,” Buck laughed. “I’m just here to... get away.”
Marco nodded, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I can show you some places. Paris is best seen through the eyes of someone who lives here.”
Buck was surprised. He hadn’t expected to meet anyone, let alone someone willing to show him around. He hadn’t expected to feel this... at ease with a complete stranger.
Maybe it was the wine. Or maybe it was just the way Marco made everything feel lighter, like it wasn’t so heavy.
So they spent the evening together, walking through Montmartre, talking about everything and nothing. It was nice. Simple. Something Buck hadn’t realized he missed.
And when the night ended, Marco leaned in close with a playful grin.
“You sure you don’t want me to show you the best secret spots tomorrow?” he asked. “Paris has a lot to offer.”
Buck hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to let someone in. Especially not when Eddie was still in his head.
But then Marco added, “I’m sure you’re a great guy, but I get the feeling you’re looking for something more than a tour guide.
It was the softest way anyone had ever called him out on his loneliness.
Buck laughed and nodded. “I’m sure we could make it more than a tour, if you’re up for it.”
The next day, Marco took Buck to the Musée d'Orsay. They wandered through the halls, talking about everything under the sun. Buck’s thoughts still weren’t fully settled — he didn’t expect them to be — but it was hard to think about anything else when Marco was there, pulling him into little moments. The way Marco laughed when Buck stumbled over his French, or the way he took Buck’s hand to pull him through crowds of tourists with ease.
It wasn’t that Buck was falling for Marco. Not exactly. But it was nice to feel wanted, to feel like he could be... normal. It had been so long since he felt like himself around anyone other than Eddie.
But with Marco, everything was easier. It was just a day out in Paris. No expectations. No heavy emotions. Just light.
After a few hours of walking through art galleries, they ended up at a small café near the Seine, a cozy little spot that felt like it belonged to another time. Marco, still with that knowing smile, leaned back in his chair, sipping espresso like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“So,” Marco said, eyes twinkling. “You’re in Paris to... find yourself? Or just running away?”
Buck laughed, a little too bitterly. “A bit of both, maybe.”
“And what did you find?” Marco leaned in, a teasing edge to his voice.
Buck blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. Not from Marco. But then, the answer seemed simple. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he knew what he wasn’t going to find here.
“I thought I might find something I’ve been missing,” Buck said quietly, almost to himself.
Marco didn’t press. He just nodded and gave him a small smile.
Later that evening, Buck found himself posting a picture of him and Marco from the café — just a simple shot, Marco’s goofy grin, and Buck trying his hardest to look like he wasn’t thinking about Eddie the entire time. They were laughing in the shot, a perfect little moment captured in the glow of Parisian streetlights.
He didn’t really know why he posted it. Maybe it was just for the memories. Maybe because Marco had made him laugh harder than he had in a while. Maybe because he was in Paris, and the city was making him do things he never thought he would. Maybe because, deep down, he needed Eddie to see that he was moving on.
He tagged Marco in the photo, giving him a goofy caption.
"Tour guides are the best, especially when they let you get lost in Paris ."
And then, before he could think too much, Buck hit “post.”
* @EvanBBuckley posted a photo and tagged @MarcoPolo *
The comments rolled in fast.
@HenWilson: “Is that the Eiffel Tower?!”
@Chim: “Since when are you in France?”
@Eddiazz: “???”
A few minutes later, the group chat was blowing up.
Hen: Why is Buck in Paris?
Chim: Is that Marco? Buck, are you dating in France now?
Bobby: So… this is new.
Eddie’s response came a few seconds later. Just a question mark. No words, just a simple, gut-punching question mark. Like Eddie didn’t know what to make of it.
Buck stared at the screen, unable to look away. His heart beat a little too fast.
He hadn’t meant to hurt Eddie. But the second he saw that question mark, he knew something had shifted. Eddie noticed. And if he noticed, then maybe he was thinking about it. Thinking about Buck.
Before Buck could spiral into what felt like a mini existential crisis, his phone buzzed again.
Chim: You better be careful, Buck! Paris is full of Gorgeous men — I mean, just look at this Marco guy…
Hen: Is this a date thing, or what?
The question from Hen made Buck pause. Was it a date? With Marco?
But it was so... different. Marco was fun, and Buck could feel the carefree energy of the city in his veins. But he wasn’t feeling the way he did around Eddie. Nothing compared to the tension, the connection, the feeling of being seen in a way only Eddie could do.
But none of that mattered because Eddie had moved on.
Hadn’t he?
He took another sip of his wine and looked out over the Seine. The city was beautiful, full of life, but it felt like a world away from the one where Eddie lived.
Eddie stared at Buck’s Instagram post for a long time, far longer than he should have. Marco’s arm was around Buck’s shoulders, and they were laughing — something easy, something casual, something Eddie was used to seeing between them, but never quite like this.
Buck was smiling in a way that was so... real. It was a look Eddie hadn’t seen in a while. And it made something twist in Eddie’s chest that he wasn’t ready to deal with.
He’d heard about Marco before. Buck had mentioned the guy briefly when he first arrived in Paris, but Eddie hadn’t given it much thought. He had assumed Buck was just going on some adventure. A distraction. He hadn’t realized how serious it had gotten.
A small voice in his head kept asking why it felt like Buck was slipping away from him. Like Buck was trying to move on, and Eddie was standing still, watching from a distance.
He stared at the phone screen, the picture of Buck and Marco still glowing back at him.
A thought crossed Eddie’s mind — it wasn’t just the jealousy. It was the realization that he was afraid. He was afraid that Buck would find someone who could give him everything he needed — something Eddie wasn’t sure he could give.
He wasn’t sure he knew how.
Eddie tapped out a quick reply in the group chat.
Eddie: Did Buck just post a picture with a guy?
It was a stupid question. He knew it was stupid.
But it was the only thing he could think to say.
The next morning, Buck woke up to a string of notifications. All from the group chat.
Hen: You guys look cute together!
Chim: Can’t believe Buck is falling for a Parisian already.
Bobby: No need to worry, Eddie. He’s fine.
Then came Eddie’s message — and Buck felt the sharpness of it before he even read it.
Eddie: What the hell, Buck?
It wasn’t just the question mark anymore. It was this. Eddie was upset. It was in the tone of those words. The anger, the confusion, the jealousy. It was all wrapped up in those six little words.
Buck’s heart dropped.
What the hell? Did Eddie really just say that?
He had no idea how to respond. He didn’t want to keep ignoring what was happening between them. And this—Eddie’s reaction—felt like the confirmation that maybe… maybe he wasn’t as easy to forget as Buck thought.
Eddie: What the hell, Buck?
He didn’t even think about it. He didn’t care how it looked. Seeing Buck with Marco—laughing, close, carefree in a way Eddie hadn’t seen in so long—triggered something in him. A sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He wanted to shake Buck, to yell at him for making this so damn complicated. For going to Paris and acting like he didn’t still care. For posting pictures with someone else, like they were something real.
Eddie’s mind was racing. Why did it bother him so much? Why was he feeling like this? He wasn’t supposed to be the jealous type. But here he was, sending a text full of words he knew he’d regret later.
Hen: What’s with the tone, Eddie? It’s just a photo.
Chim: Don’t worry, Eddie. Paris will make anyone look good.
Bobby: Relax, Eddie. Buck’s fine. Let him have his fun.
Eddie stared at his phone, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him. The more he thought about Buck’s Instagram post, the more he realized he’d messed up. He shouldn’t have reacted like that. He shouldn’t have snapped at Buck. But it was too late to take it back now.
He’d gone from confused to furious in an instant. He’d seen the picture of Buck with Marco, looking all happy, and something inside of him snapped. And now? Now he was lying to himself about why it hurt so damn much.
Eddie tossed his phone on the bed, running a hand through his hair. His chest felt tight. He couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, Buck wasn’t his anymore. Maybe Buck had moved on, and Eddie was too late to realize it.
Why did I wait so long? Eddie thought bitterly. Why the hell did I let things get so complicated?
He picked up his phone again, this time with a sense of purpose.
He needed to know. He needed to hear Buck say it. He needed to figure out what was going on before his head exploded from the questions swirling in it.
Eddie: Do you like him, Buck?
There. He said it. A simple question. He pressed "send" and immediately regretted it. Eddie stared at the screen, willing Buck to respond. Why do I feel like I’m losing him?
Buck stared at his phone, still trying to process the emotions swirling inside him. He’d never seen Eddie so angry before. Not like this. Not over him. Not when it was obvious they both had their own issues to work out.
But the thing was, he hadn’t expected this reaction from Eddie. The more he thought about it, the more it hit him—Eddie was hurt. He was jealous. He cared, maybe more than Buck realized.
And then came that damn message:
"Do you like him, Buck?"
Buck’s stomach dropped. The question hit him like a punch to the gut.
Do you like him?
He took a deep breath. Did he?
No, he didn’t want to lie to Eddie. He didn’t want to make things worse, but the truth was... he didn’t know. He was in a new city with a new person who made him feel... something. But it wasn’t the same as what he’d always felt for Eddie.
Was that even fair to say? Buck didn’t know if he had the right to feel this conflicted. But as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Eddie’s jealousy made everything even more confusing. Why was he so affected by this? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about Eddie?
Buck typed out a response but deleted it immediately. He wasn’t sure he could make Eddie understand this.
He looked at Marco’s smiling face in the photo again and felt guilty. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to feel torn between two people.
But he had to tell Eddie the truth.
So, he typed:
Buck: Eddie, it’s not like that with Marco. He’s a great guy, but I’m not looking for anything serious.
Eddie’s hands were shaking as he read Buck’s message.
It’s not like that with Marco.
He let out a long breath. So, Buck wasn’t serious about him. He was just running from something. From... us?
Buck was supposed to be on a second date with Marco. He’d agreed to it, trying to convince himself that it was what he needed, a way to move on, to leave everything back in L.A. But here he was, sitting in a small café in Montmartre, the twinkling lights of Paris casting shadows on the cobblestone streets. The wine in his glass was too sweet, the ambiance too perfect. And yet, Buck felt empty.
It wasn’t Marco. Marco was charming, kind, and easy to talk to. But Buck’s chest clenched as he realized that no matter how many conversations they had, no matter how many moments they shared in Paris, there was a part of him that couldn’t be filled by anyone but Eddie.
Marco leaned forward, noticing the change in Buck’s demeanor. “You okay?” His voice was soft, laced with concern.
Buck swallowed hard, trying to push back the flood of emotions threatening to overtake him. “Marco, you’re amazing. And I thought I was ready to feel something again, but...” His voice faltered, and he quickly looked down, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum. “I already have love in L.A.”
Marco’s eyes softened, a knowing look passing between them. He smiled sadly, almost as if he’d seen it coming. “Go,” he said simply. “Go be with him.”
Buck stood, his legs shaky, and placed a hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “You deserve someone who can be all in. I—” He paused, fighting the lump in his throat. “I’m not that guy.”
Marco nodded, understanding, and Buck gave him a small squeeze of reassurance before turning and walking away, the weight of his decision settling over him with every step.
But he didn’t expect to see Eddie.
Not here. Not now. Not standing under the shimmering lights of the Seine, the water reflecting the glimmering lights of Paris like something out of a dream. But there Eddie was, a black jacket draped over his shoulders, the faintest trace of nerves in his eyes, searching the crowd.
“Eddie?” Buck breathed, the word slipping from his mouth before he could stop it. His heart skipped a beat.
Eddie’s eyes found him almost immediately, a flash of relief and something else flickering across his face. “I saw the photo,” he said, voice tense. “And I freaked out. I didn’t even know why until I got on the plane. I broke up with Ana.
Buck blinked in shock, trying to process the gravity of what Eddie was saying. “You flew to Paris... for me?”
Eddie nodded, his voice tight. “I couldn’t just sit there and pretend like I didn’t care. I’m in love with you, Buck.” His voice cracked, raw and vulnerable. “And I was too scared to see it until you weren’t there anymore.”
For a second, Buck was frozen, unable to speak. The air between them seemed charged, every word they said pulling them closer, but it still felt like something was keeping them apart. Then, unable to help it, Buck let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “You’re such an idiot,” he said, his voice trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief.
Eddie’s face softened into a small, sheepish grin. “Says the guy who flew halfway across the world to not tell me he was in love.”
The laugh that followed was lighter, almost like a weight had been lifted from both of them. The tension that had been suffocating them for weeks, maybe months, seemed to melt away in that moment. But even as the laughter died down, there was a quiet, unspoken understanding between them. They were here, now, finally ready to face what had always been there.
Eddie’s eyes flickered to Buck’s lips, his hesitation barely visible. The world around them felt so still, as if Paris itself was holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next.
Buck’s voice was barely a whisper. “Don’t leave me hanging like the Mona Lisa,” he said, his heart in his throat.
Eddie didn’t hesitate this time. He closed the gap between them, his lips crashing into Buck’s with a desperate intensity. The kiss was clumsy, imperfect, filled with all the things they’d left unsaid. It was everything they’d been holding back, all their fears and hopes and desires wrapped up in one moment. The lights of Paris blurred behind them, the sounds of the city fading away as they melted into each other.
The next morning, Eddie couldn’t help himself. He reached for his phone, snapping a photo of Buck half-asleep in his hotel bed. The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a soft glow on Buck’s face, his hair a mess, a lazy smile playing on his lips. There was something so perfect about the way Buck looked right then, like he had finally found the place where he belonged — not in Paris, not with Marco, but with Eddie.
* @Eddiazz posted a photo and tagged @EvanBBuckley *
Eddie posted the photo with a simple caption: “The only thing better than Paris? You.”
Within seconds, the notifications started flooding in. Eddie grinned, propping himself up on the bed as he read them.
@HenWilson: “YOU TWO.”
@Chim: “IS THIS A BIT OR ARE YOU ACTUALLY IN PARIS TOGETHER???”
@Cap-Bobby: “I approve.”
Eddie could hear Buck laughing from beside him. “I can’t believe it took a transatlantic crisis for us to figure it out,” Buck said, his voice still thick with sleep but warm with affection.
Eddie’s heart swelled, and he reached over to brush a strand of hair from Buck’s forehead. “Dramatic, but effective,” he teased, his voice full of fondness.
Buck rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Maybe we should make a habit of these dramatic declarations. They seem to work for us.”
Eddie laughed softly, pulling Buck into a tighter hug. They both sank back into the bed, the warmth between them more comforting than any jetlag. For the first time in a long while, Eddie felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
Je ne voulais pas trouver l'amour
Mais Paris a quelque chose
Qui donne envie d'aimer, d'aimer passionnément
Mon cœur est à toi pour toujours