Chapter Text
It was a Thursday morning, early shift, and as usual, the station smelled like old coffee and burnt toast when Buck walked in, a combination that never quite left the place, no matter how much they cleaned. It was a slow day so far, the kind that stretched on forever if they didn’t find something to do with their hands or their mouths.
Hen and Chimney were already seated at the kitchen table, halfway into what looked like a very passionate discussion about horror movies.
“I’m telling you,” Chimney insisted, stabbing his index finger toward Hen, “the original is always better! Remakes just ruin the magic.”
Hen scoffed, then took a sip of blueberry tea from her "best mother" mug. “Says the guy who cried during the reboot of ‘It.’ ” And rolled her eyes.
“I was emotionally invested, okay?” Chimney immediately shot back with the most defensive tone, as if someone had just insulted his family.
Buck laughed as he tossed his bag down on the bench. “How early did you two start today’s fight? At the door or on the way here?”
Bobby, emerging from his office with a clipboard in hand, smiled at them like a long-suffering father dealing with children. “Don’t encourage them, kid.”
“Too late,” Hen said, grinning.
It was easy to fall into the rhythm of things. The station felt like a second home most days, the walls filled with familiar voices, shared jokes, and routines they could do with their eyes closed. Buck liked that part—the comfort in the chaos. It made the heavy days feel lighter.
They went about their morning like any other. Gear checks, paperwork, and a round of drills that Bobby insisted on, even though everyone groaned about it.
Eddie arrived a little late, face pinched like he’d fought traffic—or his own thoughts. He offered a curt nod, joining them without much fanfare. Buck noticed, but didn’t say anything. He knew Eddie had his moods, just like everyone else did.
By midmorning, they were called out to a small apartment fire in Koreatown. Routine, low threat. They handled it like they always did—efficiently, quickly and as seamlessly as possible. Buck ended up on the hose while Eddie cleared the back rooms, while Chimney joked over the comms about smoke ruining his hair, and Hen rolled her eyes so hard Buck swore she pulled something.
Once the scene was cleared, they hopped on the truck and headed back to the station. Once they were finally back, some sat around the kitchen again, sweat cooling, shirts damp and stuck to their backs, while others just headed to take a quick cool shower in order to regenerate some energy to push through that same shift.
Chimney shoved a protein bar into his mouth, chewing loudly. “You know, for a guy who avoids drama like it’s the plague, Diaz sure manages to look like he’s got a storm cloud over him 24/7.”
Hen snorted. “That’s just his face, Chim. Resting soldier face.”
Bobby chuckled quietly as he filled out paperwork. Buck, listening but keeping his mouth shut, found himself glancing over at Eddie more than he realized.
Eddie was seated near the lockers, towel over his shoulders, tapping away on his phone, nothing unusual about it. But Buck caught the way his shoulders were tense, the kind of tension that didn’t leave even after a call.
Eddie was still Eddie. Reliable but quiet. Predictable in the way Buck had come to rely on, like gravity itself.
But sometimes, Buck caught Eddie zoning out during team dinners, staring into his beer like he could find the answer to something heavy at the bottom of the bottle. Other times, Buck would talk about dates he’d been on or dates he hadn’t, and Eddie would listen with this carefully neutral face, like none of it touched him. But it did.
Buck saw it. Maybe no one else did, but Buck did.
“You’re gonna stare a hole in him if you keep that up,” Hen said low enough that only Buck could hear.
Buck blinked, feeling like a kid getting caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “What? I’m not staring.”
Hen gave him a knowing smile. “Uh-huh.” Buck could lie all he wanted, but even he knew that it was impossible to lie to Hen.
Buck turned away, focusing on the smudge on the kitchen table instead. “I was just thinking about...work stuff, yeah."
“Sure,” Hen said, still smirking.
The thing was, it wasn’t just Eddie. Or at least, that’s what Buck told himself. It was all of them. He noticed things. Like how Chimney had been fiddling with the same cracked phone case for weeks. Or how Hen kept checking the calendar on her phone like she was counting down to something important.
It was just who Buck was. He saw things other people didn’t always want to see.
Hours passed in a blur of chores and drills, a few calls, but all of them pretty easy and quick to handle. It seemed like no one had said the Q-word. They cleaned the rig. Did inventory. Bobby made them run a few more drills just because he could.
When the sun started dipping low, casting the station in amber hues, they gathered around the couch for the usual battle of ‘who picks the movie tonight?’
“Anything but superhero movies,” Hen announced. As much as she truly enjoyed watching inordinate amounts of those kinds with her son and wife, she was starting to get fed up but the exact same stories being rehashed and repeated.
Chimney groaned. “You’re killing me.”
“Expand your horizons, Howard.”
Eddie sat on the armrest, watching them bicker with a faint smile like he was an outsider looking in. Buck saw it and, again, said nothing.
They settled on a disaster movie, ironic considering their job. Somewhere halfway through, Buck caught Eddie zoning out, thumb ghosting over his phone screen like he couldn’t decide whether to open an app or not.
“You ever gonna do more than just stare at it?” Buck asked, keeping his voice casual.
Eddie looked over, brow raised. “Do what?”
“Your phone. You hold it like it’s got the answers to life, but you never text anyone back.”
Eddie chuckled softly. “Maybe it doesn’t have the answers.” Buck didn’t push, but the comment stuck with him longer than it should have.
That night, after most of the station had turned in, Buck found himself pacing the kitchen alone, phone in hand. He scrolled through social media, old group chats, anything to distract himself from his own thoughts. Eddie’s face kept creeping in anyway.
And that’s when the stupid idea hit him.
Dating. He knew Eddie hadn’t dated since Ana. Maybe not even really before Ana, except for Shannon. It was like Eddie had pressed pause on that part of his life and still never hit play again.
And Buck? Buck couldn’t help wondering why.
For Eddie, it wasn’t just about being a single dad. It wasn’t even about the disaster that had been his last relationship, Buck suspected it went deeper. Maybe Eddie had convinced himself that it was safer this way, easier not to feel. And Buck? Buck hated that. Hated the thought of Eddie shutting himself off from the world, from people who might make him smile again, laugh again. People who might see him the way Buck—
He didn’t finish that thought.
Instead, he quickly opened his messages and shot Hen a quick text. He could've just talked to her since they were all still at the station, but he felt like Eddie himself had ears everywhere.
Buck:
Hey. Do you think Eddie would kill me if I set him up on some blind dates? Asking for a friend.
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over send, then pressed it anyway. Of course he did.