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Eddie throws his bag on the bench and opens his locker with more force than necessary. He can feel Hen and Chim’s matching looks of scrutiny, and doesn’t even give them time to ask before falling onto the bench and saying, “I think Buck’s mad at me.”
“I was wondering where he was.”
“What’d you do?”
Eddie shrugs, sparing a glance at Hen because he knows Chin’s not going to offer any sympathy. “I don’t even know.”
She winces. “Not a good start.”
“I know!”
“Why do you think he’s mad?” Eddie leans back to look at Ravi, who’s got a curious brow quirked. “What? I’m not allowed to ask questions now?”
Eddie sighs, running a hand over his face. “He didn’t want to drive in together.”
Hen glances over Eddie’s shoulder at Chimney.
“That’s it?” Ravi asks, rolling his eyes.
Chimney hums thoughtfully. “You guys do live together, and work together, and commute together. Maybe he just . . . Needed a little space.” Eddie turns to give him a look—something deeply judgy, maybe a little bitchy, and Ravi and Hen must do the same, because Chim’s smile falls and he nods. “Right. This is Buck we’re talking about. You’d need a literal amputation.”
Eddie huffs. “I just can’t figure out what I did. Usually it’s obvious. Forgot an anniversary—not that I would with him. Or—or, maybe I said something? Without thinking? I thought we had a good night. We were laughing at breakfast. Maybe I said something during breakfast?” He frowns, looks up at Hen, with what’s almost certain is an embarrassing display of pathetic longing. “What did I do?”
“Aren’t you the suave, self assured one?” Ravi asks.
Chim laughs. “That was before he and Buck discovered domestic bliss.”
“I’m still suave!”
Hen snorts. “You were never suave. Buck just lets you believe you are.”
Eddie frowns. “You’re kicking me while I’m down? In my hour of need? Et tu, brute?”
“You’re not in your hour of need. Just apologize to him when he gets here so we don’t all have to stew in your pouting all day.” She glances up. “If this is you , I’m almost afraid to see the state Buck’s in.”
Chimney sighs. “I’ll go wait for him. Get a status report before the storm rolls in on Chateau 118.” He mock salutes, winking at Eddie, as if he hasn’t just imploded his own life without realizing it, and then leaves the locker room, heading towards the front of the bay.
Eddie sighs, dragging his uniform from the locker, the dread that’s been pooling in his gut since Buck pressed a kiss to his cheek and said he’d meet him here, seeping into his limbs. Hen pats his shoulder.
“Someone should probably warn Cap that tropical storm Buckley’s gonna be rolling in,” Ravi says.
Hen nods. “On it.” She pats Eddie’s back again. “It’ll be fine. You love each other. Just apologize, be pathetic—“ he makes a face, and she nods, “Just like that. And he’ll forgive you before you know it.”
Chim’s waiting for him at the base of the stairs, rocking back on his heels. His eyes are smiling, bright and mischievous, and Eddie already knows he’s not going to make this easy on him.
“How is he?”
Chim pretends to think for a beat, then leans in and whispers, “You sure you didn’t forget about an anniversary?”
Eddie’s frown deepens. “Did he say—“
Chimney shrugs, and then turns, heading up the stairs two steps at a time before he’s even finished speaking. “He’s up here. Come on.”
Eddie stares up at him, dreading slinking through his veins. Their first kiss anniversary isn’t for another two months. They moved in together over a year ago and they had dinner over it. Birthdays have all come and gone or are months out. Even if he picks his brain for catastrophes they’ve been involved in—not that he can imagine they’d have any reason to celebrate those— none of those fall close to today's date.
He shakes his head, and starts up the stairs. Buck’s going to give him those big, sad puppy dog eyes, and Eddie’s going to feel like the worst man alive, and maybe he is because he has no idea what he’s forgotten. What he’s done.
He’s not the most perceptive man in the world, but he thought was better than this.
As he crests the top of the stairs, there’s quiet chatter bustling around the kitchen and the table. Hen’s standing with her back to him, laughing, and Buck’s standing in the kitchen brewing a cup of coffee. Eddie examines him quietly—shoulders are loose, body light. Bobby’s standing next to him, and Buck’s bobbing his head almost— happily?
Chim turns just in time to see him. “There you are!” He says, stomping over to him and clamping a hand over each of his shoulders before guiding him towards the others. “Guys, Eddie’s here!”
Buck’s head jerks up and he spins around—a bright smile on his lips as he meets Eddie’s gaze.
That’s not right.
Hen turns too, and he follows her as she steps aside, nodding towards the table. His gaze trips down, and he blinks.
There’s a bouquet on the table in front of Eddie’s usual seat.
Buck steps forward, leaning against the island, and Eddie drags his gaze back up to him. He bites his lip nervously, his own eyes locked on the table. “I—well. You mentioned, during the documentary last night, that you—you’ve never been given flowers. From a significant other. So I—“ He smiles awkwardly, a little wobbly, and then scratches the back of his neck, nodding.
Eddie blinks, something warm blooming in his chest. “You bought me flowers.”
“Well—yeah, I—“
“I thought you were pissed at me.”
Buck rests upright, eyebrows furrowing. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“That’s what I’ve spent all morning trying to figure out.”
That smile slips away. “I kissed you goodbye.”
“On the cheek. And then said you’d meet me here.”
Buck nods, slowly. “Be—Because I wanted to surprise you.” He motions to the table. “With flowers. Well—it—it was more. Intensive, than I thought it’d be? I had to go to three different shops to find someone who even had the flowers I wanted to get—”
Eddie takes a step towards the table, and Buck cuts himself off, watching him with an intentional gaze. Eddie swallows, closes the distance between himself and the table and leans over it, gently picking up the bouquet. The wrapping around the stems crinkles—a soft, rose-y scent wafting up towards him as he brings one of the flowers to his nose, eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself disappear into their scent.
“They’re—” Buck starts, his voice cracking. “They’re, um. Red Camellias?” His voice comes closer, steps hesitant. Eddie’s pretty sure if he opened his eyes, he’d find Buck nervously wringing his hands in front of himself. “I spent, like, three hours going over the language of flowers last night trying to find something that felt right.”
Eddie opens his eyes; Buck’s right where he always wants him to be—standing just in front of him. Not quite out of reach. Close enough that he could pull him in by his belt loops if he wanted to.
“Yeah?” Eddie asks, a little breathless and overwhelmed—not in a way that aches. Not in a way that stresses him out and makes him want to find a dark corner and hide but in the way—the way that makes his heart do a strange squeeze, like if it pumps harder, it might just make how much Buck loves him become a part of the very structure of his being. Changing the rhythm, so that it beats his name.
It’d been a passing comment. He doesn’t even really remember what he’d said. Buck had asked . . . something. And Eddie’d answered that he’d never been given flowers. And that was the end of it. That was the end of it, because the documentary was almost over, and they were tired, and had an early day today—
Only it wasn’t.
Because after he fell asleep, Buck stayed up. Researching flowers.
For Eddie.
“I—I considered roses,” Buck says, softly, his gaze dancing between Eddie’s eyes, and then down to the flowers, and back up. “They’re like. Quintessential love, right? But it just—it didn’t feel right. Because, because it’s—it’s about more than the romance, for us? Right? So I—went down this deep dive. Just. Trying to find something that could even come close to what you mean to me?”
Eddie closes his eyes again—takes a big inhale, allows the floral scent to saturate his lungs.
Because the flowers are for him.
Because Buck wanted him to feel loved.
As if he doesn’t every moment of every day.
“So I—I thought, maybe. Carnations? Each color has a different meaning, and I thought, well, hey, I could combine red, pink, white and that—that’d be great. It’d encompass a lot of what we are. But, I wanted to make sure. Because it’s important. It’s important I send the right message—the message boards were real serious about that, Eds. Not sending the wrong idea with an ill-researched flower. So, I dug a little deeper, and thank god I didn’t get the carnations?”
He opens his eyes. “Why?”
Buck’s eyes light up, and he sways forward. “They’re more of a feminine love? Like, motherly? So, if I’d gotten you those, I’d be sending the wrong message entirely. Because I’m—I’m not your mother.”
Eddie nods, feeling a bit like he’s floating above them—even trapped by Buck’s gaze as he is, the flowers pressed tight against his chest.
“No,” He agrees. “You aren’t.”
Because he goes out of his way to make sure Eddie knows he’s loved.
Eddie’s mother could never.
“Then, of course, there are tulips and lilies, which, are pretty? And get the message through well enough, but they didn’t feel right. I was gonna go with them, though, because by the third flower shop, I wasn’t sure anyone was gonna have anything that felt right. And I didn’t—want to do with this what we did with us getting together. Stressing about getting it right and just putting it off. But the last flower shop—” He grins, so happy, so vibrant.
The flowers are beautiful, they are.
But they’re not Evan Buckley beautiful.
And, fuck.
He’ll never get over being allowed to think that.
“I told her—Joan, she’s the owner. Really nice lady, actually. She let me go on for a while about you. I just—I told her all about you, and us, and what I wanted to—convey, and she gave me this smile, and pulled me to the back of the shop, and there was only one bouquet left, Eddie.” He leans, reaching out to grab Eddie’s elbow excitedly. “It’s like—like the universe knew.”
“The universe knew?”
Buck nods. “Red Camellias. They have a few different meanings, depending on the culture, or country, or wherever, but they all fit. They all fit us; you.”
Eddie smiles softly, sways into his space, love drunk. “Tell me.”
“Eternal love, for one!”
“Eternal, huh?”
His smile goes shy and then determined. “Yeah,” he says, brightly. “You’re not getting rid of me.” He squeezes Eddies elbow. “They’re also known for perseverance and resilience,” he adds, softer. “And there’s nobody I know who perseveres more than you—who’s resilience is inspiring and makes me want to fight harder, and be better every day, just so that I can have the strength to stand beside you.”
Eddie’s throat goes tight. “Buck—”
“And!” Buck interrupts, rising on his tip toes, and leaning in, his cologne almost nudging out the scent of the flowers. “In Japan, they represent bravery and strength—which, again, is Eddie Diaz to a tee, I think. Your bravery, and your strength, are admirable at a base, and awe inspiring at their height. No matter what comes at us, what disaster comes rearing its ugly head, or how things fall apart around us, somehow—somehow you’re always standing. Always fighting. It’s—it’s one of the things I admire the most about you—even if it’s also one of your flaws.”
Eddie huffs a laugh, “One of my flaws?”
“Yeah, because you sometimes have a hard time asking for help. But that’s okay. That’s okay, because I’ve got your back even when you don’t ask. Because—because I love you, man?”
The world goes a little wobbly as his vision floods, and Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t call me man right now, Buck, god.” His voice is thick, wet, too, and he can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed.
Buck laughs, the sound so god damned precious Eddie doesn’t know what to do with it.
He’s keeping him.
He’s keeping him forever—he doesn’t care what catastrophe the universe has planned for them next, he can pry Buck from his cold, dead hands.
. . . on second thought, best not tempt fate with the image of either of their cold, dead hands.
“Sorry, I just—I’ve never. I didn’t know it could be like this. I didn’t know it was possible to love someone like this, to give up a piece of yourself and never feel like something’s missing, because—”
Eddie sets the flowers on the table and kisses him—whatever he’d been about to say slipping away. He reaches up, cupping Buck’s jaw, and pulls away. Pauses. Leans back in and presses another chaste kiss to his lips.
“They’re beautiful, Buck,” he says, the curve of his lower lip catching on Buck’s.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pauses, pulls away, and smirks. “Man.”
Buck groans, rolling his eyes—which also have a particular sheen to them. “You’re making fun of me, after I—”
“I’ll always make fun of you,” Eddie grins, swiping his thumb over the apple of Buck’s cheek, catching the rise of his smile. “But this was really considerate. I don’t even know what to say.”
“Do you like them?”
His smile softens, and he dips his head, nodding. “I like them.”
Someone clears their throat—and Eddie flinches. He’d forgotten where they are entirely—and that they’re not alone. The widening of Buck’s eyes tells him, at least, he’s not the only one. They both turn towards the noise, find Chim staring at them, a frown creasing his brow. Eddie’s hand falls to his side.
“How long do we have to let this go on before we can start calling them out on being disgustingly in love?”
Buck laughs, leaning into Eddie’s side.
“Keep it up, Chim,” Eddie says, “or I might feel like telling Maddie all about my flowers.”
A little noise catches at the back of Buck’s throat when he says my flowers.
Chim narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
“When was the last time you bought her flowers?”
“I—”
“Too long,” Buck supplies, grinning, twisting to look at the others. “Let me know if you need a recommendation. I know a good shop.”
Hen and Cap both look thoughtful, and Eddie laughs, twisting back around to pick up his bouquet. “Hey, Cap?” He asks, stepping around Buck. “Do we have a vase?” Buck reaches out, squeezing Eddie’s shoulder—his hand gliding down his back until Eddie steps away and into the kitchen, holding his flowers out for Cap.
Cap eyes the flowers. His gaze flickers over to Buck. “Flower language, huh?”
“Flower language, Cap,” Buck says, brightly.
Hen steps up to the island, reaching out to touch one of the petals. She tilts her head. “Know of anything that says I love you and our kids and the life we have together?”
Buck inhales—and Eddie already knows what’s coming, because of course he does. “Yeah!” He says, “I have a whole flower glossary on my phone.” He grins at Eddie, and then turns away, motioning for Hen to follow. “You won’t believe some of the flowers out there, Hen. And how every country or culture has a different meaning, so you have to put a lot of thought into it . . .” His voice trails off as he and Hen disappear down the stairs.
Cap sets a vase on the island. Eddie hadn’t even seen him disappear to retrieve it.
Ravi shakes his head. “And they say romance is dead.”
Later, when their shift is over, and they meet in the driveway of their home, and Eddie climbs out of his car, his flowers clutched to his chest, Buck pulls him in by his belt loops, and grins; devious. “Do you know what else those stand for?” He asks, almost innocently.
Eddie does. He’d done his own research between calls.
He shakes his head. “Tell me.”
“Passion,” Buck leans in, smile going sharp at the edges. “Desire.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks as Buck walks backwards, pulling him up towards the front door. “Tell me more.”
Buck shakes his head. “Why tell you, when I can show you?”
Eddie nods. “I have always been a visual learner.”
The corners of Buck’s eyes crinkle, and he dips down, pressing a kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. He pauses, inhaling, and pulls back to look down at Eddie, something soft, and uncertain in his gaze. “You really like them?”
“Yeah, Buck,” he says, reaching out and grabbing Buck’s free hand. “I really do.”
“It doesn’t make you feel . . .”
Eddie knows where he’s going, and he stops it before it can ever get there. “It made me feel loved, Buck,” he says, softly. “Now, can we go inside so I can say thank you properly?”
Three days later, when Buck walks into the kitchen and finds the bundle of sunflowers sitting on the dining room table for him—Eddie doesn’t even have to wonder if he knows what they mean. His eyes go glassy, and he’s dragging Eddie in for a kiss so deep and painstakingly slow, that it’s as much of an answer as him actually saying it.