Work Text:
cover art by 42donotpanic
LISTEN:
Length: 18:36
CAST (in order of appearance)
be_brave13 as Narrator
blackglass as Eddie
42donotpanic as Buck
DevilWithABirdDress as Realtor
edible_chemistry as Chris
dairaliz as Video Game Character
knuckledusters as Maddie
Buck stands in the kitchen of 4995 South Bedford Street with his eyes closed, leaning against the kitchen counter. Eddie’s pouring coffee beans from the bag into the grinder to prepare for tomorrow morning when they both are on shift, and Buck can hear faint noise in the background from the new video game Chris is playing, some online magic ghost thing with his friends.
It smells like citrus and vanilla, like the candle that abuela sent to Eddie last Christmas that he’d forgotten to take with him and Buck had been burning when he missed the Diaz boys, but now burned in celebration of them being here instead.
It isn’t much. It isn’t anything. But the height of this counter and the smell of the candle and the sounds of the other occupants of the house, just living their lives here in this space with him, are enough to make Buck’s eyebrows draw in and throat close up, his mouth pulling to one side and head tilting up at the ceiling.
The coffee bean bag crinkles as Eddie must be folding it back up, and Buck reins in the cacophony of feelings that he knows must be spilling out from every pore.
It’s been a hard couple of weeks. Buck has lost and gained and lost and gained but at what cost, not to mention another near miss and more than a few hard conversations. He’d almost transferred stations.
But he hadn’t— and Eddie had come home. Thank fuck, but Eddie had come home, and the what was left of 118 had rallied.
Or, it felt like everyone besides Buck had rallied. Rather, Buck is in the process of rallying, and in said process is the grueling task of looking for a new place to live.
On top of everything else, it kind of feels like hell to be looking for a new home. But this place isn’t his and never really had been. He’s only been keeping it warm while the Diaz boys have been away, and now that they are back it is time for Buck to give them back their space. Go back to coming over and occasionally sleeping on the couch only when he has to.
But it’s fine. Buck is fine.
“Hey, Buck, what do we have for breakfast tomorrow?” Eddie asks and turns to him, sliding the bag of coffee beans down the island towards him. “I think we used up all the bread but I can’t remember if we have any more in the freezer, can you put these beans back and check?”
Buck smiles. He doesn’t know if it looks deranged or not, quite frankly, but he’s just glad he manages that instead of folding like a wet paper bag.
“Yeah, of course,” he says. He picks up the bag and turns to the fridge, opening the freezer section to stick the bag of beans in and look for bread. He finds a loaf he’d baked in his trying-not-to-think-about-Tommy era and pulls it out.
“How do you feel about pumpernickel?”
Eddie makes an appraising face. “That doesn’t sound half bad.”
Buck sets it on the counter with a flourish, just to see what Eddie’s reaction will be. He gets an eye roll and a fond smile— totally worth it.
“Thanks, Mr. Ridiculous,” Eddie says, and Buck relaxes a bit. Maybe this isn’t actually his home, but he can’t deny that he rests easy here, in this kitchen, in this house with Eddie in his line of sight and noise spilling out of Chris’ half-open doorway.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I mean, rich coming from you, Mr. Dramatic, but hey, what can—”
Buck’s phone buzzes. He freezes, all the tension coming back to his limbs, and he watches Eddie’s face as he recognizes it. But Buck is fine. He’s normal. He is, in fact, so normal about it when he pulls out his phone and… yep. Just what he feared. It’s from his realtor.
Hi Buck, I’ve found another couple of places for you to tour that I think you’ll like better than the last bunch. Lots more character and even some views! Let me know when you’d be free to do a few walk throughs.
“Who’s that?” Eddie asks.
“Oh, hah, it’s just my realtor!” Buck says, and he is so casual about it.
But for some reason, Eddie is not casual about it. His face gets all scrunched up and weird for just one second, so minutely that anybody who isn’t Buck wouldn’t have noticed.
But Buck notices. He notices everything about Eddie.
“She found you something nice?”
“Yeah, sounds like it,” Buck says.
Both of them sit there for a minute and just… stare at each other. All Buck can hear is the clacking of Chris’ keyboard from down the hallway and the zap of some blaster or thunderbolt or something and it’s taking up all the space in the room. There’s no room to speak, but neither of them really knows what to say anyway.
Because, okay. When it was Eddie moving out of this house, at least it was for Christopher— to be with him, to earn back his trust, to hopefully bring him back to Los Angeles. Buck could not and never would be mad about that.
This time is not that. This time, Buck is moving out of a place that he moved into only two months ago— the only place that’s ever really felt like he thinks a home should feel— to a new, soulless apartment. And it’s not that Buck is mad about that. Like he said, this is not his house.
But he doesn’t really want to move. Actually, he really doesn’t want to fucking move, and it’s eating him up on the inside, hollowing him out like his grief for Bobby had but this time laid overtop, like a forest fire that was battened down to smoldering embers lighting up again, the wind carrying the flame to somewhere new and half-burnt only to kill it dead.
And Buck doesn’t know why this is so hard. He’s a fucking adult and Eddie and Chris came back when he’d basically convinced himself it would never be in the cards. He should be happy. This is a win. This is a major win and this is not Buck’s fucking house.
He should move out and be goddamn grateful. It’s not like anything will really change except that Eddie’s back won’t hurt from sleeping on the couch and Buck will be able to have his own space again and—
Buck doesn’t want his own fucking space. He doesn’t want his own place. He wants to stay here.
Eddie finally speaks. “How have those tours been going, anyway? You didn’t really say much last time you came home.”
“They’re— They’re fine,” Buck manages. “Just not really what I was looking for, y’know? The loft was industrial, minimalist, and I looked at a few places with similar styles. But I think I figured out that I don’t really want something like that anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“No,” Buck says, “I don’t.” Because Buck wants the frog sponge holder in the kitchen mixed with his KitchenAid and Eddie’s abuela’s dishes she gave to him before moving back to Texas. He wants Eddie’s comfy blue couch and his ocean artwork and a mixture of their pictures on the mantle. He wants his record player and Eddie’s kitchen table and Chris’ school backpack hung up on the wall. He wants— he wants Eddie. He wants Chris. He wants—
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
And Buck is scrambling out of the kitchen, offering up some nonsense as he retreats down the hallway, past Chris’s half-open door where he hears more clacking and pewing and the game asking Chris if he’s afraid of death, which Chris responds to with a quiet “No, no— Ah, shit! Mother fucker—”
The cursing is all too relatable as Buck barrels into the bathroom and shuts the door with a slam, leaning back against it and breathing heavy. His head thunks against the door, and Buck lifts it only to let it thunk again, harder this time.
God, but he’s stupid. He’s so fucking stupid.
No wonder he doesn’t want to move out. No wonder this place feels like home to him, even if it’s not his. No wonder it felt like he was going to become a ghost in his own body with Bobby dead and Eddie returning to El Paso and the empty realization of they’re going to need you being a lie and the defensiveness when faced with Tommy’s scoff and Maddie’s carefully non-judgemental eyebrows and and and ad nauseum.
Buck’s in love with Eddie. And now that it’s staring at him right in the face it seems so fucking obvious that Buck almost doesn’t know how he didn’t see it except he does know. He does get it.
It was like being bisexual: Buck was going to keep denying it until something so big came along that made it impossible for him to ignore. And moving out of this house, away from the family that he wants to be his so badly, has finally done it.
“Alright!” Chris’ character says, and though it’s muffled, Buck can hear it through the door, cheery and determined. A few faint pews come through, and it’s enough to bring Buck back from the edge of panic, softening the fear from sharp into round pain.
Because it doesn’t matter that Buck has had this realization. It doesn't matter what he wants. Maybe Buck was obfuscating on his own behalf because he knew how much this would hurt. He knew that, regardless of what’s going on for him, Eddie is straight. And that means that he cannot have this.
Buck runs a hand over his face. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with this information. He only wants to stay that much more while also knowing that it’s imperative for him to leave as quickly as he can.
He pulls out his phone and hysterically texts Maddie.
BUCK
Hey so you were right lol
About Eddie
So like. wtf do I do now with this information
bc I feel like I’m dying I have to MOVE OUT of this place
MADDIE
Oh, Evan. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.
Especially now, especially like this
BUCK
I am so close to having it, having everything all the time
But I don’t and I never will
How do I bear it? What do I do?
MADDIE
Don’t say that! How do you know?
BUCK
Maddie, Eddie is straight. We all know this.
He was famously married to a woman and has a child
And has dated several women since then
MADDIE
And what has happened every time he’s dated them?
BUCK
They’ve broken up but that’s bc they’re not right for him!!!!
MADDIE
Sure. But what if that wasn’t all it was?
BUCK
We literally cannot be doing this rn
I locked myself in his bathroom I am in a CRISIS
He is straight end of story and even if he wasn’t there is no guarantee he would ever even like me like that
MADDIE
Okay, okay I get it. What do you need?
BUCK
I am going to go back out there and in no more than seven mins you need to call me so I can escape bc otherwise I am going to die
MADDIE
Can do, little brother.
You will be coming straight to my house, right?
BUCK
Yeah. Make me a drink?
MADDIE
You got it. Now go back out there before Eddie busts the door down.
Buck flushes the toilet and washes his hands to waste just a little bit more time, then he takes a deep breath and turns to face the music.
As he walks back down the hallway, still unconvinced he doesn’t look like a whole different person, he takes a second to peek into Chris’ room.
Evidently, he’s had enough time to get back to wherever he was when his character had died, because Buck sees some big glowy boss looking enemy with Chris’ character jumping around, his various friends jumping with him.
She asks again, “Are you afraid of death?” and then they’re off. Chris is so tuned in that he doesn’t even notice Buck watching him, still stalling but so full of love at the kid in front of him, growing up so fast that Buck feels like he needs this just to cement the image of Chris in his mind.
“C’mon, Denny hurry!” Chris urges. He clicks and types and Buck has no idea what is going on, but it doesn’t matter.
“Jump, jump!”
The characters all jump, dodging some blast of ghost attack.
Buck wishes he could dodge his feelings just as easily, but there’s a creak down the hall. He looks up to see Eddie staring at him with a half confused, half fond expression on his face.
It takes all Buck’s willpower not to blush under Eddie’s gaze. Not that he lets himself think it very often or with very much intensity, but Eddie is beautiful. His hair is half-falling over his face and he’s wearing this brown t-shirt with the sleeves cut off which shows off his arms. He looks cuddly and soft and Buck wants to drown in him and wow he needs Maddie to call him right now because he will not survive this otherwise.
Buck, in self-preservation, nods towards Chris and Eddie’s face softens in understanding.
“Yes!” Chris shouts. “Harry, use your special! C’mon!”
Eddie walks towards him, and they both peer into Chris’ room to watch the final few moments as Chris and his friends blow up the ghost boss lady, who splatters across the screen.
Eddie’s shoulder brushing against his has never felt so right, nor so distracting in his life.
“Oh darling, what magnificent ectoplasm you have,” one of the characters says as Chris and his friends begin to harvest the drops from the boss, and Buck pulls back to look at Eddie, who is already turning to look at him.
Eddie’s doing that thing with his eyebrows where he’s saying, What the fuck was that?
Buck widens his eyes to say, Fuck if I know!
And then both of them can tell that they are going to laugh and Eddie pulls at his shoulder, tugging him away down the hall as they try their hardest to stifle it until they get back to the kitchen and burst so loudly into hysterics that he knows Chris can hear them, because the door slams shut in the background.
Buck feels so light and free, laughing, throwing his head back, and he wants this. He wants this every day of his life.
The moment is disrupted when Buck’s phone rings, and he’s jerked back into reality yet again. Buck almost doesn’t want the save, but he picks up anyway with an apologetic glance at Eddie.
“Mads, what’s up? I’m at Eddie’s.”
“Hey Evan,” she says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you while you’re busy.”
He glances up at Eddie, making sure to furrow his brows just a little bit. “Um, you’re never a bother. Is something wrong?”
Eddie’s looking back at him, brown eyes full of concern and caring, deep and brown and Buck cannot look away.
“No, no! Everything’s okay, I just called to catch up, but it’s not a big deal,” Maddie says, her voice tilting enough that it sounds like she’s lying.
“Uh huh. Yeah, I believe that. Well, thankfully I am not busy, so I’ll be on my way over to your place in five minutes.”
“No, no Buck you don’t have to—”
Eddie breathes out in exasperation and gestures in a way that Buck knows he means Go help your sister.
“I’m coming,” Buck interrupts. “You don’t even need to ask.”
When he hangs up only a few moments later, Buck doesn’t want to move, but Eddie smiles at him and it feels like everything makes sense and it hurts.
“Let me know if you need anything from us while you’re over there,” Eddie tells him. “You know we’re always here for you.”
And oh, Buck wishes that were true. He wishes the Diaz boys would be there for him and he would be there for them, tied together with rings and paperwork so thorough that the will would feel unnecessary and outdated.
But Buck is in love and Eddie cannot be. They will be best friends and that will be enough because it is all they can have. Buck will not be unsatisfied but he will ache and ache and ache because if he’s been in love for this long, he doesn’t know that he ever won’t be, at least a little bit, in love with Eddie Diaz.
He says none of that. “Yeah, of course. Thanks, Eddie.” He ducks his head so he doesn’t have to keep looking.
Then he gets his shoes, his jacket, his wallet. Eddie follows him like a shadow, like the second pulse in his heartbeat. Immutably part of him and intrinsically beside him.
“Say goodnight to Chris for me?” Buck asks at the door.
“You won’t be back?”
Buck shrugs. “Just want to cover my bases.”
Eddie nods. “Totally. Will do, then. Text me what the plan is, when you know.”
And this conversation is so domestic, so married-couple, that Buck’s heart gives another squeeze. He needs to go. Now.
“Of course,” he says, and then gets in his truck, pulling out of the driveway until he looks back and Eddie is still there, leaning in the doorway, yellow light from the porch light spilling over him like an angel. He steals all of the air out of Buck’s lungs.
He has to tear his eyes away and onto the road. He has no idea what he’s going to do with this now that he knows it’s there, but that’s a problem for later Buck. So, for now, he lets himself want and drives himself to his sister’s house, simultaneously full and empty for the realization of the great love he’s always been searching for right at his side.