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These days, Buck waking up to Eddie snoring lightly beside him isn’t out of the ordinary. He’d been around a sleeping Eddie before, watching him nap during car rides or sleep in the bunks at the firehouse during shifts, but when Eddie sleeps, really sleeps, like Deep Sleep, Stage 3 sleep, he snores. It'd be annoying – or at the least, distracting – if it was anyone else, but this is Eddie. Buck is just glad he's finally sleeping well.
For weeks after Bobby died, Buck and Eddie sported matching dark circles underneath their eyes. Neither of them mentioned it, because they weren't really talking about anything after Bobby died, but it was obvious they both weren't sleeping. Buck hated the idea that he was making Eddie sleep on the couch in his own house, which clearly wasn't helping either of them, so he offered the bed back to Eddie. He'd suffer for a few weeks with a sore body, but it’d be temporary; he was planning on moving out soon anyways, because Eddie and Chris love him but they needed their space to grieve and so did Buck. But when Eddie shook his head and argued that if Buck wanted Eddie off the couch they’d have to share, Buck surrendered probably too quickly.
Buck likes the company. It isn’t the same as Abby or Taylor or…Tommy, cuddling at night while sneaking kisses underneath the sheets, but maybe he’ll let himself admit it’s better.
Every night, he can feel Eddie. He can feel Eddie’s body heat radiating off of him, the way his legs feel pressed against Buck’s. He can feel the mattress moving with the force of Eddie’s chest moving up and down, his breath against Buck’s face when they decide to face each other, a reminder that he's alive and breathing – because sometimes Buck wakes up from a nightmare, or keeps himself up all night obsessing over Eddie’s near-death experiences, and he needs to make sure.
These days, them getting dressed for work together isn’t out of the ordinary. Neither is Buck waking Chris up for school while Eddie takes a shower, or Buck cooking breakfast while Eddie lingers nearby, going over the bills at the dining table, or Chris trying to finish up last night’s homework while they eat their eggs and bacon. Buck and Eddie have stayed together plenty of times, but this feels– different. Less like Buck is staying with Eddie and more like he’s living with Eddie.
That realization hits him at 5:45AM on his first day off, and he chokes on his coffee with the force of it.
But it's not weird, not even a little. He’s pretty sure that he and Eddie would technically be roommates, albeit unconventional ones, as most roommates share a room, not a bed, but that's not weird either – there's only two beds in the house, and one of them is Chris’, so sharing is just the most logical conclusion. And he is moving out soon. Living with your best friend for a few months isn't even remotely unheard of; in fact, Buck has had five roommates over the course of his life, not including Eddie. It’s different, of course, because everything is with Eddie, but not in a bad way. Just different.
“You okay?” Eddie asks before taking a bite of his toast.
Buck laughs, more nervous than he expected it to be. “Yeah. No, yeah. Just— Thinking too hard, I guess.”
Eddie hums. “About what?”
He sucks his teeth then shrugs, the universal sign for ‘not gonna say.’ Eddie sighs, taking the last bite of his breakfast, then stands to bring his plate to the sink. “Need to make Chris wash dishes tonight,” he mutters from the kitchen.
“No. I’ll wash the dishes.”
“No, you will not. He's never gonna learn if you do everything for him.”
For the most part, Eddie has done his best to help Buck feel like an active contributor to this household, whether that's helping with bills or letting him cook for them (and thank God for that, because Eddie can not cook), but he never lets him wash the dishes.
“First of all, I never wash the dishes,” Buck starts, getting up to put his own plate in the sink. “And second of all, he— Chris will still learn if I do it tonight. He’ll be gone at school all day anyway, all the dishes will be ours.”
“Exactly. That's how it is sometimes. Gotta clean up messes that aren't yours. It’s a life lesson.”
Buck scoffs. “You wanna teach him life isn't fair?”
Eddie looks at him for a long time. “No, Buck, I want to teach him to wash the dishes.”
He sighs, grabbing Eddie’s hands in his. “And you can. Tomorrow night.”
Eddie huffs out a laugh, then squeezes Buck’s hands. “Fine. But I gotta go.”
When Eddie pulls away, Buck’s hands feel– empty, maybe, so he clasps them together behind his back as hard as he can. “Have a good shift,” he yells towards the front door. “Don’t forget—”
“—to text you,” Eddie finishes. “I know, I know. I got it. Go back to sleep.” And then the door is closing, and Chris is at his friend’s house until later, so it's just Buck, standing there in his boxers in a quiet house, coffee getting cold on the table.
He does the dishes. Eddie won't like it, but he does it anyway, because he sometimes still feels like he needs to earn his keep here, and he doesn't know what else to do with his hands.
Then, he does the laundry. Eddie doesn't mind him doing the laundry, it's just the dishes he’s weird about. Buck prefers them doing laundry together, because then folding becomes less of a chore and more of a background activity to their Sunday TV show binging, so he leaves the clean clothes in a basket next to the couch for when Eddie gets back.
Buck can admit that he’s happier now. Maybe not happy, but happier. Less miserable. Losing Bobby felt like the worst thing that had ever happened to him, like no pain could ever compare, and at first, he truly thought the grief would swallow him whole. He spent the first month feeling like he was dying of a terminal disease and everyone else was just letting it happen. But eventually, something settled in his chest, and he could breathe again.
He almost wishes he wasn’t feeling better. Not that being miserable forever would have brought Bobby back, but that felt like the rational response to such a life-altering thing happening. Bobby not being here changes every aspect of his day-to-day life, from his career to his friendships to his dating life. Buck hasn’t even thought about getting back out there since he died, even if it would help him to revert to Buck 1.0 for a little while. But Buck is just– fine. Not happy. Not devastated. He's fine, and that feels insulting.
Eddie texts him while he’s falling asleep on the couch during a rerun of Teen Titans.
Eddie: You okay?
Buck: im fine
did laundry and the dishes ;)
what about you
Eddie: I audibly sighed at that.
I’m doing fine. We saved a puppy! I took a picture.
Attached is a photo of a golden retriever puppy, probably no more than a couple weeks old, and Buck smiles big all alone in their living room.
Eddie: Ravi said he looks like you, but cuter.
Buck: haha
is that code for him missing me?
Eddie: I think so. He’s mentioned you three times today.
Buck: we should all get together soon
Buck regrets saying it as soon as the message is sent. The 118 always hung out at Bobby and Athena’s house, and now– well, now, Bobby is dead, and Athena sold their house, and Buck hasn't spoken to her enough lately to know where she's living now. The concept of not knowing where his family is living feels foreign to him. He should talk to her more, but it's not his decision; she’s the one who pulled herself away from him. He guesses he can't blame her.
Eddie: Definitely. I’ll ask Hen to borrow her house.
Buck lets out a sigh of relief. It’s been so long he’s forgotten the 118 also hangs out at Hen’s house.
Eddie: Or we could host?
Buck: EDDIE DIAZ WANTS TO HOST??
Eddie: Haha, very funny. I’m just saying we could. If you want to.
If you want to. It's not Buck’s house, and Eddie knows he doesn't want to host, but he's still involving Buck in the decision making. His heart soars.
Buck: i will be the best host i swear
you’ll have to kick the guests out at the end of the night
thats how much theyll lije me
Eddie: Whatever you want.
I have to go. Talk to you later. :)
Buck stares at his phone smiling for a stupidly long amount of time. Eddie is just so perfect that sometimes he can't believe it; like sometimes he'll play a game with himself where he tries to find a flaw of his he can't defend and he comes up empty every time.
Buck isn't stupid. He knows he’s bordering on codependent, but so is Eddie, so he can't find it in himself to care. What other people think of their relationship doesn’t matter. Especially Tommy.
He still can't believe the nerve of him to act like Eddie was his competition, like he could ever compete against Eddie and win. And not because Buck is in love with him, because he's not, not in any describable way like how he was in love with Abby, but because Eddie’s given him so much since they met, including Chris, while Tommy gave him nothing but a bisexual awakening that he hasn't done much with.
When he finally falls asleep, it’s starting to storm, and he distantly worries about the lightning.
He wakes up hours later – his first nap that long in a while – to several missed texts from Eddie.
Eddie: You okay? With the storm?
Then, twenty minutes later:
Eddie: It’s ‘Q-Word’ today. Even with the rain. Ravi’s almost said it five times.
Then, another ten minutes later:
Eddie: Assuming you’re asleep. I’ll leave you alone. They wish you were here today.
Attached is a photo of Hen and Chim cleaning the truck, Chim sticking out his middle finger towards the camera.
Buck saves the photo, then texts back almost immediately.
Buck: sry i was napping
im off, not dead!!!
wish i was there too :(
Eddie: You could always swing by. I doubt Cap would mind.
Chimney is captain now. It’s…weird. Chimney is a good leader, much better than when he was interim captain years ago, but he's not Bobby. He tries not to compare them anyway.
Buck: you could just say you miss me
Eddie stops and starts typing for a couple of minutes, and Buck worries he shouldn't have said that. But this type of teasing is normal. He knows Eddie hates working without him. Before he can worry too much about it, though, a message comes through.
Eddie: I miss you.
Buck bites his tongue to stifle the noise that threatens to escape him. His face feels hot, which is– embarrassing, because Eddie hadn’t said anything that Buck doesn't already know. They always miss each other. Matching heartbeats, twin flames, soulmates, whatever you want to call it. But sometimes he makes him feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and he doesn't know why.
Buck: you didn't ACTUALLY need to say it
i already know
i miss you too :(
Eddie: Chris will be home soon.
He replies immediately, and isn't it just like Eddie to know that would make him feel better without having to think about it?
God, he’s embarrassing. His thoughts over the past couple months have gone from Bobby, Bobby, Bobby to Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He needs–
“You need a hobby,” Chris says, drawing in his sketchbook at the table.
They’d gone five minutes before Chris had scrunched up his face, looking him up and down, then asked why he looks so sad. Buck replied that he's not sad, just missing Eddie a bit.
Buck sighs, sitting down beside him. “I have a hobby. I bake.”
“You bake when you're really sad,” Chris argues. “That's not a hobby. Art is a hobby.”
“And you’re very good at it,” Buck replies. “But…I'm not. I've tried it.”
“You don't have to be good. It's just for you, not for a museum.”
He can't argue with that. “Well, why do I need a hobby?”
“You want to just think about my dad all day?” Chris asks, looking up from his page to stare at him.
And honestly…yes. Missing him hurts, but it hurts a whole lot less than missing Abby or Bobby did, because at least he knows Eddie is coming back at the end of his shift. Out of everything Buck could be thinking about – the fact that his new nephew is named after his dead father figure, every bad call they've ever had, every person they couldn't save – Eddie was one of the best. But he didn't say that. “Right. No, yeah. I get your point. I do need a hobby.”
Chris thinks for a moment, then tears a page out of his sketchbook. “Draw with me.”
Buck draws what he always does when prompted: a heart with a smiley face, like he's two years old or something. Chris is sketching a portrait of a girl he doesn't recognize. He briefly wonders if it's Shannon, but then Chris reaches for the brown pencil for her skin, and Buck is stumped. “Uh, who's that?”
Chris scratches his head. “It's…a girl from school. But it doesn't really look like her.” He sighs, then grabs a black pencil, scribbling all over the drawing.
“Hey.” Buck sets his hand on his shoulder. “You said yourself it's just for you, not for a museum.”
He sighs, setting his pencil down. He twists his lips in the same way Eddie does when he's thinking. “It's not just for me. I was gonna give it to her.”
Buck smiles widely. “Oh, you like her. What's her name?”
“I didn't say I like her,” Chris mumbles, picking up his pencil again, but the corner of his mouth is quirking up, like he's trying not to smile.
“But you do, right?”
“...Her name is April. But don’t tell my dad.”
“April. That's a pretty name. Is she pretty?”
Chris stares at him for a long time, mirroring how his dad had just this morning, then he huffs. “This is weird.”
Buck laughs, genuinely. “Fine, you don't have to tell me. We’ll just…draw in silence.”
Buck adds a poorly-drawn rendition of him, Eddie, and Chris to his heart drawing, then adds an arrow pointing from his heart to them. Chris keeps sketching on his page, huffing under his breath every few minutes, before eventually closing the sketchbook all together. He looks over at Buck’s page for the first time, and smiles, tilting his head, and he reminds Buck of Eddie so much sometimes that it makes his head hurt. “Is that supposed to be us?”
“It is us. See?” He points to the shortest stick figure on the page. “That's you.” Then he points to the one he drew cartoonish muscles on. “And that's me. The other one is your dad.”
Chris nods, his curls bouncing in his face. “Family portrait. You should put it on the fridge.”
And Buck– Buck is so completely knocked out by the phrase family portrait that he barely hears the rest of the sentence.
Eddie and Chris are his family. They have been for years, probably since he's met them. The entire 118 is his family – even Ravi, who he's pretty sure doesn't even like him. It just shocks him a little.
It always shocks him a little when people refer to them as a family, especially strangers, because he knows what they're thinking. They think Buck and Eddie are married and Chris is their son. People have made that assumption pretty often over the years, even when Buck and Eddie were in their own respective relationships, even back when Shannon was still alive and Eddie was still married to her. But that's obviously not what Chris meant, so he lets it go.
Buck clears his throat. “Listen, uh, if you wanna watch a movie and order pizza tonight I wouldn't mind.”
Chris looks at him pointedly. “You just don't want to cook.”
He snickers, already pulling his phone out. “Okay, true. So, you don't want pizza?”
“I do. Cheese.”
When the pizza arrives, Buck snaps a picture to send to Eddie. When twenty minutes go by and he hasn't responded, Buck decides he's either asleep or…doing his job. It might have bothered him earlier, but Chris is here now. The same Chris who keeps shooting daggers at Buck for checking his phone a million times during the movie.
Okay, fine, Buck falls asleep again, but he can't help it – he’s been extra tired lately, and the movie was pretty boring, though he’d never tell Chris that. But when he looks down, Chris is asleep too.
His phone rings and he hits Accept before even seeing the name.
“Eddie!” He exclaims, probably too loud with Chris sleeping right next to him.
“We were on a call,” Eddie explains, voice hushed. “It was—” He cuts himself off, then sighs deeply.
“Bad?” Buck asks, frowning.
“Bad. Car hanging off the bridge. Kids fell out. They, uh…” He hears a sharp intake of breath. “They didn't make it. Mom did, but she was drunk. Had no idea what was going on.”
“Jesus, Eddie. What about you? Are you okay?”
Eddie huffs. “Am I okay? I’m not the one who just— Who just killed her kids and doesn't even know it.”
Buck’s cheeks burn with shame. Of course he's still thinking about Eddie. “I know. I'm sorry. I'm just trying to—”
“I know, Buck. It's okay.” He sucks in another breath. “How’s it going over there?”
Buck looks down at Chris, still sleeping if the quiet snoring was any indication (another habit he picked up from Eddie), and smiles softly. “We, uh…We had pizza for dinner, then he picked a movie, but I don't think he even made it thirty minutes.”
“Oh, yeah? And I’m sure you stayed awake through the whole thing, right?”
Buck’s cheeks burn with something other than shame this time. “Uh, yeah,” he lies. “Of course I did. I was very into it.”
“Of course,” he repeats. “I know you've been asleep all day, but try not to stay up until I get there this time. I'll be off in eight hours.”
Oftentimes, even though Buck knows Eddie will be back by the end of his shift, his body has a hard time believing it and he physically can't calm himself down for the last few hours Eddie is away. Sometimes he calls Maddie or Hen, making up an excuse to why he needed to talk to them at midnight, but sometimes when it's really bad, he pulls up his old voicemails from Eddie, listening to them on repeat to try to stop shaking.
A couple hours later, with Eddie in the home stretch, Buck is curled up in his bed with his eyes closed, headphones pressed tightly over his ears, listening to Eddie’s voicemail from a missed phone call while he was in El Paso.
“Sorry, you’re probably asleep. It's pretty late,” he says, and the audio is so close to his ears it almost feels like Eddie is whispering right next to him. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m a little—” Eddie giggles through the phone, and Buck has had that sound playing through his head since he received the voicemail over six months ago. “I’m a little drunk. I’m pretty bored over here, man. I, uh…I missed you. You should visit. Or I’ll visit LA. I don’t know, I just—” He sucks in a breath, then laughs again. “I don't know, Buck. I’m gonna go now. Talk to you tomorrow. Unless you're ignoring me.” He's quiet for a moment, and the first time Buck listened to this he’d thought he fell asleep. “Love you. Bye bye.”
When Buck had first heard it, he rewinded a million times, wondering if he had really said what he thought he’d said. It’s not a secret that they love each other – he loves all his friends – but although Hen and Bobby said it freely, some were a lot less loose with the word, including Eddie. But Eddie was drunk, and he missed him, even if sometimes it felt like no one could possibly miss a person more than Buck missed Eddie.
He cherishes it to this day. There are other voicemails, but none as important as this one.
He falls asleep eventually, even though the feeling of being alone in their bed unnerves him now, and he deems himself lucky he's such a light sleeper lately when he wakes up as the front door opens.
He hears their bedroom door open then close, then the sound of Eddie opening the dresser drawers, so he keeps his eyes shut. They’ve changed around each other before, but it's been an unspoken rule from day one to turn away or close your eyes when the other is changing, so Buck doesn't peek even a little, even when his brain tries to supply him with images of Eddie in his underwear the day Tommy broke up with him.
Eddie slips under the covers beside him, and when Buck finally allows himself to turn over and look, Eddie is wearing his Rush Hour sweatshirt. He smiles when they lock eyes, then yawns. “I know, I know. I should shower. But—”
“You don't wanna,” Buck finishes. “You're really gonna get my shirt all sweaty?” He asks, teasing.
Eddie snickers, reaching up a hand to his chest. “Uh, I’m cold, actually. Not sweaty.”
“You don't look cold,” Buck notes. “You look—”
He cuts himself off, biting his tongue, because Eddie looks– well, there's not enough words in the English language to describe how Eddie looks. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and his cheeks are slightly red in the way they always are, and he’s looking at Buck like he's hanging onto every word he's saying, and Buck doesn't get how this is possible.
Buck is not religious, not even a little. He went to church twice a year when he was younger, on Christmas and Easter, and since becoming an adult, he's gone maybe five times. When he was deep in his grief, he would pray, hoping someone would take away his pain or his life or something. He’s not religious, but Eddie is, in his own special way, and sometimes Buck thinks that God must be real because Eddie and him fit so perfectly it feels like divine work.
“I look…?” Eddie asks when Buck goes quiet, raising his eyebrows.
“You look sweaty,” Buck replies eventually.
Eddie sighs, scrunching his eyebrows together. “Okay, don't freak out, but the AC broke.”
“In the Prius?”
“Yep.”
Buck groans. “Well shit, Eds, we could be looking at a couple thousand dollars to fix that.”
“I know, I know.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I’ll figure it out. I can deal with the heat until then.”
“No,” he argues, shaking his head. “It's not like you broke it.”
“But it's my car,” Eddie counters.
“And you’re my—” He cuts himself off again, not really knowing where he was going with that. You’re mine, maybe. My Eddie. “We share both vehicles, it's fair that we’d both pay.”
Eddie sighs again, but it's fonder this time, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You don't have to fix everything, you know,” he whispers, and something must get ahold of Buck then, because he brings a hand up to Eddie’s face, cradling his cheek.
“Uh, you like when I fix things,” Buck says, surprising himself, but also surprising Eddie if the way his breath hitches is any indication. “I should've been a mechanic.”
“There is no world where you're not a firefighter,” Eddie says, bringing his hand up to Buck’s. He closes his eyes, and then they're quiet for a long time, just listening to each other breathe. “Buck,” he says eventually. “Thanks. For living with me.”
Buck’s heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears, and he laughs nervously. “What about— What about your space? You don't want your bed back?”
“No,” Eddie responds, so quickly Buck knows there’s no room to argue. “No, I gotta keep an eye on you.”
Buck is never moving out, he decides right then and there. He's in his thirties and he’s going to live in his best friend’s house forever and he doesn't even care.
“Okay,” Buck says simply, smiling.
Eddie pulls Buck’s hand off of his face, thinks for a moment, then kisses it. “Goodnight, Buck,” he says, and then he turns over onto his other side.
Buck is frozen. He can’t move. Can barely think.
He spends hours just looking at the back of Eddie’s head, mind blank. When he finally falls back asleep, it's against his will.
They spend the next day lazing around, folding laundry, and watching Grey’s Anatomy. Buck hates this show, and Eddie says he hates it, too, but he always puts it on on Sundays, and Buck catches him watching the television screen a little too closely sometimes.
Sometimes Eddie will say something to him and it’ll take his brain a couple minutes to catch up. He still feels a little frozen from last night, like he's thawing out, but he decides he needs to let it go sometime around their fourth Grey’s episode.
It’s Maddie’s day off, and she's alone at home with the kids, so Buck makes an executive decision that the Buckley-Diaz-Han’s are going out today.
The door is unlocked when they get there. For a long time, Maddie was the most paranoid person Buck knew, and for good reason. Years ago he would brace himself before knocking as softly as he could because he knew the sound would scare her. Now, though, when she knows they're coming, she leaves her door unlocked, and Buck thinks that's a good sign.
When he opens the door, Maddie is sitting on the couch, feeding Robby with a bottle, and Jee is on the floor with crayons sprawled all around her, a Disney princess coloring book in her hand. Maddie smiles widely when she sees them, and Jee jumps up, running towards them. She hugs Eddie first, and Buck gasps in mock offense. “No hugs for Uncle Buck?”
Jee rolls her eyes – a habit she must've picked up from Mara – and hugs his legs, waves towards Chris behind them, then turns around to return to her coloring book.
Maddie watches them from the couch. “You’re not gonna sit down?” She asks, setting down the bottle on the coffee table in front of her.
Eddie looks at Buck, confused.
“I…may not have told Maddie about the aquarium,” he admits. Jee sits up at the word ‘aquarium’, looking towards them with wide eyes, and Maddie’s mouth falls open.
“Can I go?” Jee asks, running towards her mother. Maddie hesitates, then looks to Buck, who shrugs.
“Already got the tickets.”
Maddie scoffs, shaking her head. “Okay, yes, you can go. Am I going?”
“If you want. Or—”
“We could babysit,” Eddie finishes. “We just wanted to get the kids out the house for the day.”
Maddie gets a weird look on her face, looking between the two of them, before she shakes her head. “Oh, I'm definitely going. Give me five minutes to get ready. Jee, grab your backpack.”
The aquarium visit goes about as well as expected. Eddie pushes Robby’s stroller around so Maddie can just enjoy herself, Maddie takes a million photos to post to Instagram, Buck tells Jee various fun facts about each type of fish they see, and Chris pretends not to be enjoying himself.
By the end of their visit, they're sweating walking back to the car, so Jee, naturally, asks for snowcones.
Maddie seems to hesitate for a second, then nods, buckling Jee’s seatbelt. “Sure, honey.”
While they're walking up to the snowcone stand, Buck checks his phone, seeing a missed message from Maddie.
Maddie: I see you're playing the cool uncle today.
Well, you’re paying! >:)
And we are totally talking later.
The first two messages don't surprise him, but he raises his eyebrows at the third, looking over to Maddie, who's already ordering herself a Wedding Cake snowcone like a serial killer.
Buck orders Blue Raspberry, obviously, then hands the card to Eddie so he and Maddie can go sit down on the bench.
They eat in silence for a few minutes before Maddie clears her throat. “So,” she starts, pointing her spoon in his direction. “You gonna tell me what's going on with you and Eddie?”
He sighs, shaking his head. “We had this conversation already.”
“Okay, but that was then, and this is now. Now you guys are…living together.” Something must change on his face, because she immediately corrects herself. “Which is fine! But something is different. So if anything changed...”
She doesn't finish that thought, but the meaning is obvious: Maddie’s been convinced they’d get together from the beginning, so she wants to be the first to know.
“Okay, something is a little different,” he admits.
Buck can admit that a lot of things feel different between them now even though they're things they've always done together. More lived in. But maybe that's just Buck’s brain recognizing himself as a part of Eddie’s household.
Maddie raises her eyebrows expectantly.
“We share a bed,” Buck says, bracing himself for the inevitable overreaction from Maddie, but Maddie’s face stays painfully neutral.
“Uh-huh,” she says slowly, eyes moving from his face to Eddie standing up at the snowcone stand.
Buck is quiet for a moment, then he full-body turns to Maddie, scrunching his eyebrows. “You’re not gonna say anything?”
The corners of Maddie’s mouth quirk up. “I think that question says enough.”
Buck shuts his mouth, stumped. He knows what Maddie is trying to say. It's the same thing he's been avoiding thinking: To the untrained eye, Buck and Eddie seem like your average married couple. But it's not the same. Maddie is married, she has to know it's not the same. Hell, Eddie used to be married. “It's not the same as you and Chim,” he says, shoving another spoonful of Blue Raspberry in his mouth.
“Explain what's different,” Maddie says simply, eyes still moving back and forth between him and Eddie.
“Well, we’re just friends.”
Maddie snickers. “That's a bad point.”
“Uh, no, it’s the most important point. And there's more. You guys have kids together.”
“So do you,” Maddie argues.
Buck wants to argue that no, we don’t, but it gets stuck on the tip of his tongue, because he’s suddenly bombarded with images of Bobby and May and Harry and he can't name the difference between them and what he has with Chris. “Okay, bad point,” he relents.
“And you have other points?”
Buck sighs, shaking his head. “It's just different, Maddie.”
Maddie nods, watching the others turn around to walk towards them, thinking. When they stop to tie Jee’s shoe, she turns back to him. “Is it different for you or Eddie?”
And Buck– Buck doesn't know what to make of that. He's content with what they have. He doesn't let himself think about kissing or– or other things, because Eddie is straight, and what they already have is beautiful, and there's no reason to try to fix what's not broken.
“Marriage isn’t one-sided, Maddie,” Buck says definitively, before standing up and waving the others over.
Eddie makes Chris wash the dishes that night, much to Buck’s dismay.
“I don't get why you're so weird about the dishes,” Buck says as they're getting ready for bed, cleaning his ears out while Eddie washes his face.
“Me? Why are you so weird about them? Just let Chris do them sometimes. He's a teenager.”
“Nuh-uh, I'm not letting you gaslight me. You let me do everything but the dishes.”
Eddie scoffs. “Gaslight? I’m not being weird, Buck, it’s just Chris’ chore.”
“That you won't let me do.”
“You did them yesterday, didn't you?” Eddie stands up, crossing his arms across his chest. “And I didn't say anything. But you can't do everything for him. Me and you split the rest of the chores. He’s gotta do something.”
“He’s in school. Why can't he just enjoy himself when he has free time?”
“Buck, it's just dishes. You can't be the cool parent all the time,” he states, walking out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.
He starts brushing his teeth, and then it hits him.
You can't be the cool parent. Cool parent. Parent.
Maybe Maddie is right, he thinks fleetingly, before erasing that thought from his mind. Marriage isn't one-sided. Would Buck, hypothetically, be down if Eddie were to ever ask? Maybe. But that's a two-person decision, and Eddie’s never going to get back out into the dating world if he's married to Buck.
When he follows Eddie’s footsteps, sitting down beside him in bed, Eddie is holding something in his hand. He looks up at Buck when he enters, clutching whatever it is tightly against his chest.
“Buck,” Eddie says eventually, holding out his other hand to grab onto his. “I got you something. But you gotta not freak out.”
“Scout’s Honor,” Buck replies.
Eddie tries and fails to suppress a smile, then turns his hand over, opening the fist, revealing two silver rings. Buck gasps before he can help it, eyes widening, and Eddie shakes his head so quickly Buck’s worried it’ll fall off. “They’re promise rings. Or— Hold on. I wrote it down.”
He grabs his phone from the bedside table, unlocking it and opening his notes app. Buck stares at him, frozen in place. “Okay, it's right here.” He takes a deep breath. “‘Buck. I know you worry about people leaving you. You've got the abandonment issues of a puppy.’” He pauses to laugh, and Buck would too if he wasn't so terrified. “‘So this is me making a promise that I’m not going anywhere as long as I have this ring on.’” He looks up at Buck, still frozen, and smiles. “Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you earlier.”
When Eddie’s words finally settle in Buck’s ears, he's suddenly hit by the overwhelming urge to kiss him, so pressing he tears up at the feeling of need, reaching out to grab his ring from Eddie’s palm. He distantly realizes that he's still holding Eddie’s other hand, so he brings it up to his mouth, kissing at the skin. “Thank you,” he whispers, hoping the unspoken I love you was heard.
Eddie’s face flushes, and he remains quiet as he lets Buck slip the ring on him. It's silent other than the sound of the rain and their breathing, and Buck wishes he could bottle this sound, this moment, because it's almost as good as Eddie’s snoring or Eddie’s giggling or Eddie saying I love you.
“It’s late,” Buck says, and it's barely nine, but he doesn't think he can stand to look at Eddie for another second, lest he melt into the bed.
“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, laying down beside Buck. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Buck repeats, reaching to turn off the lamp.
He has a nightmare.
He doesn't have them often, not anymore. Eddie’s presence is comforting enough for his brain to remember he's safe in his own house most of the time.
In his dream, Eddie gets shot. Eddie gets shot but so does Buck, not able to duck in time, and they're so focused on saving Buck they forget all about Eddie. Eddie doesn't make it, and it's all Buck’s fault because he didn't duck.
It plays in his mind once, then twice, then three times, and after Eddie gets shot for the fourth time Buck jolts awake, tears hot against his cheek.
He takes a deep breath. Okay, five things you can see. Nothing, really, he thinks. It’s dark in here. He skips to the next question. Four things you can feel. He notes he can feel the soft comforter, the blow of the fan against him, his eyes stinging, and– and Eddie’s arms around him. Eddie’s arms around him?
He looks down, and sure enough, Eddie’s arms are around his waist, his face buried in Buck’s chest.
If Buck could explain this moment to anyone, explain the thoughts running through his head, he would say that he blue-screened.
Because Eddie looks– pretty, which isn't a word he's ever really said, but seeing him snore against his chest, eyelashes brushing against him, face relaxed deep in sleep, Buck can't think of another word he’d use. Buck wishes he could snap a picture, but he’d have to move for that, and then Eddie might wake up.
Buck brings his hand with the ring to the back of Eddie’s head, playing in the hair, and the visual is enough to kill him.
He didn't have time to think about how much he wanted to kiss Eddie earlier – or more accurately, he didn’t give himself time to think about it, because he knows what it means now. Call him delusional, but he’d honest-to-God convinced himself that wanting Eddie had nothing to do with romance. He’d convinced himself when Eddie put him in the will and when he said ‘you think that you’re expendable, but you’re wrong,’ and when he listened to Eddie say I love you over and over and over. He’d even convinced himself it meant nothing when he looked Tommy dead in the eye and told him he doesn’t have to sleep with everyone he has feelings for.
But it's impossible to ignore now, and Buck hates what this means for him. He hadn't wanted to be the stereotype. Of course his first love – which, Jesus, Buck can't believe he's thinking that – would be his straight best friend. It's exactly his luck.
Buck decides, right here, watching Eddie sleep on his chest, that he's not going to say anything to anyone, ever, not even Maddie, because speaking it into existence would just make it real, and he wouldn't be able to hide it from Eddie anymore. He doesn't even know if he's doing a good job of hiding it now, but if their friendship ends because Buck can't control him – if Eddie is uncomfortable around him – he won't ever be able to forgive himself.
On their next shift, they're putting out an electric fire in a treehouse (Buck can't believe anyone would put an oven in there), when Eddie pulls a woman out, presumably the mother.
They've been– normal. Or rather, Eddie has been normal, and Buck has tried, but his revelation-not-revelation is gnawing at him. It's barely been a day and he has no idea how he's supposed to keep this from him forever.
He keeps stealing glances at his ring, trying not to look at it too hard because it reminds him too much of a wedding band. And yes, Buck can admit he's a little delusional when it comes to Eddie, but he knows what promise rings are meant to look like, and it's not this, so he doesn't know what Eddie was thinking, but he seems so peaceful lately Buck can't bring himself to ask.
The others haven't said anything about it, but he can feel their eyes on him; can tell the texting between Hen and Chim is about them. He could just tell them. Or Eddie could tell them, but for some reason neither of them have, as if the big shiny rings on their finger are somehow their secret.
Eddie has been talking to that woman for a long time. She's smiling big, tilting her head. Buck watches for a moment, probably missing whatever instructions Chim is telling him, but the fire is out and the kids are fine so he makes a beeline straight for Eddie, who's smiling down at the woman, arms crossed, like he's trying to hide something.
When Buck reaches Eddie, he sets a hand on his shoulder, stiffly smiling in the woman’s direction. “You okay, ma’am?”
She nods. “Just inhaled a little smoke,” she says, Southern accent thick. “Been doing that for twenty years.”
Buck tries to laugh – really, he does – but nothing comes out. “Alright, well, we’re gonna get you checked out anyway, okay? I’ll show you to the ambulance.”
When Buck returns to Eddie, he's looking at him weird, and Buck– there's no reason to be upset. He's not dating Eddie. He knows this, knows Eddie has no responsibility to be celibate to protect Buck. But he made a promise, and somewhere in Buck’s jumbled mind he thinks Eddie should've known what he was getting himself into.
“What were you doing over there, Eddie?” He asks, and it's supposed to be teasing, but it sounds more accusatory.
Eddie huffs out a laugh. “Talking to a patient.”
“You were flirting, come on. Single mother, single father…”
Eddie full-body turns to Buck, stopping in his tracks, eyebrows scrunched up. “What are you talking about? I wasn't flirting with her.”
“Uh, yes, you were.” And he doesn't know when he was ever allowed to grill Eddie like this, but Eddie doesn't look upset, just confused.
“I really wasn't. Are you gonna be like this every time I talk to someone?”
Buck thinks for a long moment. “Maybe.” Probably. Definitely.
Eddie just stares at him for a second, and then something must click in his brain, because he smiles widely, putting his arm around his shoulder, and immediately the parts of Buck’s body that had begun to tense up relax. “Come on,” Eddie whispers into his ear. “They’re waiting on us.”
When they return to the firehouse, Chim pulls Buck from where he's practically glued to Eddie to ‘spend some time outside.’
He watches Buck for a long, agonizing moment, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “So,” he says finally, sitting beside him on the concrete. “I’m not imagining the rings, right?”
Buck chuckles, reaching out to fidget with it instinctively. “They're promise rings,” he says plainly, like that explains anything.
Chim shakes his head. “You gotta give me more than that, man.”
“We’re friends. Eddie got us matching rings to signify our friendship.”
He huffs out a laugh, rubbing his hand over his face. “You are dumb as bricks,” he mumbles. “Look, Maddie’s not gonna tell it to you straight, so I will. You guys live together, you take care of his kid, apparently you share a bed, and now you have matching rings. Maybe you think you're just friends, but Eddie? Not so sure about him.”
“What? No, of course he knows we’re just friends, he’s straight. We can't be anything else. I’ll admit, we may be extra close, but—”
“Buck, how does your relationship function differently than a romantic one? Can you explain that to me?”
Buck groans, putting his head in his hands. “Why is everyone asking that? It's different because Eddie doesn't have romantic feelings for me.”
“And neither do you?” He asks, and it's not fair to just ask that, not fair that he has to be the queer guy in love with his straight best friend out of anyone else in the world, but even as he thinks that he knows it couldn't be anyone but Eddie. It will never be anyone but Eddie. He has a ring on his finger to prove it.
Buck’s eyes sting. He wants to go back inside, but Eddie is there, and he’s at home, too, and he's so irreversibly tangled in Buck’s life he won't ever be able to stop thinking about him even if he wants to. “Can we just drop it, Chim?”
He sighs, then nods, standing up and patting him on the shoulder. “Just talk to him. Maybe you're missing something.”
The next night, Buck takes Chris on a drive.
He had texted Chris to make up an excuse for why they had to leave at 8PM, and he doesn't know what he told Eddie, but if he doubted Chris’ excuse, he didn't show it.
“So,” Buck starts, tapping on the steering wheel. “What’d you tell your dad?”
“I told him we needed to get a jacket I left at a sleepover,” he answers, shrugging. “Where are we going?”
“Uh…nowhere. I just needed an excuse to get you out of the house to talk.”
Chris frowns, tugging on his seatbelt. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, no, not in trouble. It's actually about me.”
“...Okay? You know you already came out, right?”
Buck laughs, shaking his head. “It's not that. Well, uh, it's related, actually. You know me and your dad— Well, we’re…closer than normal friends.”
Chris scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Uh, yeah? You're not friends.”
Buck stops at the red light then, turning to look at Chris. “No, we are friends, that's not what I'm saying.”
“You're not dating yet?” Chris asks incredulously. “He’s ridiculous.”
“Who's ridiculous?”
“Both of you.”
And maybe everyone is seeing something he isn't, because this is the third person to imply Eddie is into him this week.
“...I— Okay.”
“You love him, right? That's what you were gonna tell me?”
Buck sighs, thinking that maybe he should've parked somewhere before trying to have this conversation, because if Chris wasn't in the passenger seat he’d consider crashing. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Tell him,” Chris says, like it's that simple.
“I can’t just—”
Chris interrupts him with a groan, loud and exaggerated. “Don’t make me mad, Buck. Just tell him.”
Buck clamps his mouth shut, nodding. If Chris thinks he’s got this, he does. He can do this.
He can't do this.
It's been three days. Every night, after they've put Chris to bed, when it's just the two of them, Buck considers it, going over the moment a million times in his head like Doctor Strange, but every universe where it works out is drowned out by all the universes where it doesn't. He doesn't think Eddie would ever stop talking to him, and he definitely wouldn't kick him out, but the idea that Buck could irreparably damage their relationship just by being honest paralyzes him.
And Eddie– Eddie won't stop touching him. Buck doesn't even know if he knows he's doing it, because he always goes to sleep with his hands to himself and ends up curled around Buck like he's trying to make sure he won't run away. At first, he had thought that maybe Eddie was having nightmares, but he’s seen how that looks – he could tell Eddie was having them when they first started sleeping together, soon after Bobby died – so he concludes Eddie must just be getting touchier as he gets older, especially now that Chris is a teenager and less open to hugging.
Tonight, Eddie is upset. Buck doesn't know why, but if the way he quietly sips his tea while staring into space is any indication, it’s bad.
“Eddie?” Buck asks eventually, tired of the quiet. “You doing okay?”
Eddie twists his lips. “No,” he answers honestly, looking down at his teacup. “My…my mom called me.”
Buck frowns, scooting closer. “What’d she say?”
“She— It’s always the same thing, you know? She says I need to bring Chris back, that I'm not fit to take care of him. I don't know why I even answer the phone anymore.” He sighs, looking up at Buck. “Then she said no woman will want to be with me with you here. That Chris needs a female in his life. And I said that I don't care about women, that I just want you here, and I’m not kicking you out just so I can— What, play pretend?”
Buck’s mouth falls open, the words not quite reaching his ears. “What— What are you— Eddie, what are you saying?”
“I— I want you. I want all of you. I get so much of you and I want more. That’s crazy, right?” He giggles (and oh my God, Buck seriously needs to hear that every day), bringing a hand to Buck’s face, face red, and Buck thinks his is probably matching.
Buck's mouth feels dry. I want you. I want you. The words rattle around in Buck’s head, and he can't– there's no way to misinterpret that, right? I don't care about women, I just want you here. “Eddie,” Buck whispers, their faces inches from each other now, breathing in the same air. “I need you to tell me exactly what you mean.”
He swallows, then nods, and Buck barely has time to think about it before Eddie’s lips are on his.
Eddie kisses nervously, probably because this is presumably his first time kissing a man, but maybe also because this is his first time kissing Buck. Buck wants– God, Buck wants. He wants all of Eddie. He wants to stick his tongue in his mouth and memorize every inch of his teeth. But he also doesn't want to overwhelm him, and the slow, gentle kissing is more than enough for now.
Buck thinks, fleetingly, that even if he never got to kiss Eddie again, this memory would be enough to keep him going for years.
When they pull apart, they rest their foreheads against each other, their hands finding the other’s. “Buck,” Eddie says, breathing heavily. “Do you wanna— I want—”
“We will,” Buck answers, squeezing Eddie’s hand in his. “You’re not gonna be able to get me off you. But maybe let's send Chris off to a sleepover first.”
Eddie chuckles, nodding. “Okay. I’m— I’m gay. If that wasn't obvious.”
Buck laughs, eyes stinging again, happy tears this time. “Yeah, I figured it out sometime between us meeting and you kissing me.”
“Oh, well that narrows it down.”
They kiss one last time, then pull apart, sitting in comfortable silence as Buck reaches to turn the lamp off. Suddenly, he stops, turning to Eddie. “Wait, so we’re together?”
“I think we’ve been together,” Eddie responds, taking the last sip of his tea. “And now we’re dating.”
Funnily enough, nothing really changes. They’re still BuckandEddie, partners and best friends, bickering about which grocery items to take off the list this week.
“I told you, I’m going vegetarian,” Buck says, pointing to the ‘CHICKEN BREASTS’ written on the list. “Take the meat off, that's a significant chunk of money.”
“Okay, but I'm not going vegetarian. And neither is Chris. I say we take the yogurt off.”
“Uh, what am I supposed to eat for breakfast then?”
“You don't need to replace your breakfast just because you can’t eat bacon with it. You could just make eggs and leave the bacon out. Or eat cereal. Or— Actually, no, we’ll take the oatmeal off, Chris barely eats it.”
“No yogurt and no oatmeal? Eddie, I'm gonna starve.”
“You will not starve. You’ll just eat a little less balanced than usual. You're replacing the rest of your meals with salads anyway, you’ll be fine.”
“Okay, fine. No yogurt and no oatmeal. But you gotta take the steaks off.”
Eddie looks at him like he just asked to drive his car off a bridge. “My steaks? Really?”
“They’re expensive, babe, and I don't think Chris even cares about them.”
“Can’t a man just have anything to himself?” He asks, shaking his head, but he crosses off ‘STEAK’ too.
Not only does Eddie Diaz agree to host a party, he agrees to make a big announcement at said party.
Buck taps on his glass, signaling for everyone's attention. Eddie stands beside him, anxiously twiddling his hands behind his back. Buck isn't nervous. He couldn't see it before, but he knows now how little them dating actually changes the dynamic of the group.
When everyone starts gathering around them, Eddie clears his throat. “Buck and I…have an announcement.”
The group is quiet, staring back expectantly. Eddie opens and closes his mouth multiple times, then looks to Buck for guidance.
Buck takes a deep breath. “Eddie and I…are together. Dating. Engaged, maybe? Technically.”
It's quiet for another moment, and then the room erupts into sound, Karen and Maddie running up to hug the both of them.
“I can't believe you didn't tell me,” Maddie says. “I have a bet going with Chim, you know?”
“Did you bet on or against us?”
“You don't want to know. Ugh, I’m so proud of you.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, then turns to Eddie. “And you, too.”
Eddie is beaming, soaking in the happiness in the room, and Buck is so in love with him he can hardly stand it.
If anyone were to ask, he’d probably say he fell in love with Eddie after the will, which is the simplest version of the truth he could muster. But if Buck really had to pinpoint it, he’d say it wasn’t just one thing, one moment, but rather Eddie deliberately choosing to show up for Buck everyday, even when he was in El Paso and they could only talk through FaceTime, even when Buck was sabotaging his move, and especially when Bobby died and Buck shut down and Eddie still showed up for him every day, trying to pry him open so he wouldn't have to deal with it alone. Year after year, day after day, Eddie has made the conscious choice to prioritize him, and Buck thinks he couldn't possibly love anyone else like this ever again if he tried.
Suddenly, Ravi raises his hand, stepping out of the crowd into the front. He turns towards the group, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Am I the only one who thought they've been dating?”