Archive of Our Own ^beta

For as much as she loves him, Pepa is convinced that her nephew — God bless his soul — might just be the thing that will finish her off one day. 

Because there’s simply no way . 

Surely Eddie can’t be that oblivious to the universe screaming in his face. Surely he would’ve at least noticed by now. Maybe not the full picture yet, but disjointed sentiments at least . 

Because, honestly, how the hell can someone be that in denial about what could very well be the best thing — second only to Christopher, of course — that’s ever been thrown his way? 

She had honestly thought he was halfway there by now — an underestimation, she thought, but apparently it had been asking too much of him instead. 

So when Eddie sat down at her kitchen island, fiddling with his own fingers and casting gentle, downward glances each time she met his gaze, she had thought to herself: 

This is it. They’ve finally figured it out. 

The end to the most painstakingly slow setup to a telenovela romance she’d ever had to sit through.

Now, imagine her surprise when Eddie opens his mouth, the slightest tremor twitching at his lips, and he asks her, “Mind setting me up on a date?” 

And, good Lord, how her entire body short circuits at that — mind slowing almost to a halt, jaw swinging open, pupils flitting across his face as they search for any indication that he’s not being completely genuine with her. 

Eddie… wants her to set him up. On a date. 

The same Eddie who had made her swear never to meddle in his love life again. Who had grumbled and rolled his eyes each time she brought up some daughter or niece of a friend she thought he would hit it off with. 

The same Eddie — her Eddie — she’d been convinced, only a few seconds ago mind you, was about to finally confess something she had seen coming for years now. 

It had taken a while, but once she had noticed it, it was… so obvious. Like, ridiculously so. How she had ever thought to set Eddie up with the girls she did had seemed like such an absolute misfire. 

“You want me to—“ she begins and then stops, still trying to wrap her mind around it all. 

Eddie furrows his brow, voice dry. “To get me a date, yeah. Cue the laugh track.”

“With a… woman?” she gawks back. 

“I mean, yeah, obviously. Who else?” Eddie replies casually, and Pepa literally has to bite down on her tongue. “Don’t act like you haven’t had a mile-long list of your friend’s daughters in mind since Shannon split. This is it, Tía. You won. I’ve been out of the game too long, so this is me officially asking for your help.”

“And Buck’s okay with this?” The words, stupidly, tumble from her mouth before she can stop them, cheeks rinsing with heat. And then, all in one breath, she says, “With you bringing women around the house, I mean. It’s his space, too, Eddie.”

“He doesn’t live there anymore. Easy.” 

All she can do is blink back at him, absolutely dumbfounded. She just… doesn’t get it. He and Buck, they were— 

Living together. Splitting meals. Taking turns driving Christopher to school. Casting glances and shy smiles at each other every chance they got. Bickering about groceries and empty toilet paper tubes. Sharing a sock drawer , for Christ’s sake. 

And while she didn’t have any proof for it, she was sure they had been sleeping in the same bed, too. You know, like a couple . 

She was sure they were— 

Had she been imagining the whole thing? 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Eddie presses finally, pupils darting around. “It’s not like he died, Pepa. He just… moved into his own place. No big deal.”

And on a completely unrelated note, he wants to start dating again. Not because he misses Buck or anything. 

God, she can feel the peptic ulcer forming in her stomach from holding back what she has to say, what she wants to say in such clear, direct words.

“O-kay,” she mutters instead, slowly, regaining her bearings. “So, you’re asking me to set you up on a date. Got anyone specific in mind?”

Her nephew shrugs his shoulders with a nonchalance you wouldn’t expect from someone all but begging her to get him a date. “Nah, I trust your judgment. Just pick someone good.”

His heart isn’t in it , something inside of her whispers. Why is he so insistent if his heart isn’t in it?

“Eddie, can I just…” She stops herself short, taking a pensive breath. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Do I want you to?”

Pepa knows Eddie well enough to disregard that. “Why now? You’ve been shutting me down for years. Every time I bring up someone I think would be good for you, you just groan and go on with your day unaffected. And now— Now, suddenly you trust my judgment? What changed?”

It takes Eddie a while to respond, chewing at his bottom lip as he mulls that one over. 

“I don’t know,” he confesses, voice cracking at the edges. “Chris is growing up, faster than I want him to — always with Denny or Jacob or some other friend I can’t keep up with — and I just… I think I’m ready for something new. Someone to fill the silence, you know?” 

It breaks her heart a little, the idea of Eddie being lonely. Her boy deserves so much more than that. He deserves noise, deserves laughter, deserves joy in its purest form. 

That’s what she’s always wanted for him, even though its image seems to have changed shape for her in recent years.

And if she can do something to help bring him that—

What kind of tía would she be to not do everything in her power to make sure he gets what he’s looking for? Even if she’s still not entirely sure he knows what that is in the first place? 

“Okay, mijo .” Pepa places her hand on the side of Eddie’s cheek, rubbing her thumb across the smooth skin there, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I’ll find you someone good. Prometo .”

It doesn’t take much thought on her part, someone good being an understatement when she’s convinced that someone just might be meant for him. 

She just hopes that he won’t be too mad with her when he figures it out. 

——

Eddie has got his phone buried in the crook of his shoulder, head tilted to keep it in place, while he keeps his hands busy with lighting the candles spread across the dining table. 

Are the candles too much? How about the tablecloth? Will she sense his desperation from a mile away? Is he just, like, completely making an ass of himself here?

Fuck it. Only time will tell. 

What does he even have to lose at this point? 

Eddie makes his way back to the kitchen, the carne asada Pepa had pretty much held his hand — on a phone call, of course — through making laid out on two of his best plates, marinade and salsa drizzled over only slightly haphazardly. 

“How do you know the steak’s thin enough?” he asks, hearing his own echo on the other side of the line. She always insists on keeping him on speakerphone. “Or that it’s cooked right? Looks a little pink to me.” 

She sighs. “Eddito, I told you it’s better rare. Now, enough. I’m sure it’s, at the very least, edible.”

“Alright, sorry,” he mumbles in return, grabbing the bottle of white wine from the fridge. “I haven’t done this in a while. When did she say she’d be here?” 

“Seven.”

Eddie checks his watch, screws up his face. “That was nine minutes ago.”

“Well, soon then,” Pepa breathes, her voice straining through the tinny static of Eddie’s phone. For a drawn out moment, there’s silence, and then: “ Cariño , can you promise me something? Before your date gets there?” 

“Uh, yeah. Okay. Hit me.”

He’s only half listening, rearranging the silverware for what feels like the fiftieth time. Nerves tug at his chest, his blood feeling as though it’s vibrating inside of him. 

Calm down. It’s gonna be alright. 

Jello. Think of the Jello. 

“Promise me that you’ll give it a chance, no matter what.” And, well, that’s not worrying at all. Not just the words, but the sincerity in Pepa’s voice as she speaks them. Nope, totally not. “It might not be what you’re expecting, this date, but I just… I need you to try to see what I’m seeing. I need you to open yourself to possibility. Just… trust me on this, mijo . That’s all I’m asking.” 

And then the doorbell rings, right on cue. 

“Pepa, I’ve gotta—“

But she won’t let up. “ Eddie . Promise me.”

“Okay,” Eddie huffs, taking purposeful strides towards the front door all the while ruffling his hair. “I promise I’ll give it a chance. Love you. Bye.” 

He shoves his phone back into the front pocket of his chinos, heart thundering in his chest, outstretching his hands until they reach the cold metal of the doorknob. 

Another shallow breath, just enough to give him the courage to twist the damn thing. And then the door is swinging open, the shine from amber porch light spilling into his front entrance, and a downcast shadow of a figure appearing with it. 

And then—

Buck. 

Eddie unclenches just about every muscle in his body, lungs deflating almost entirely as he heaves out the heaviest sigh of relief. 

It’s just Buck. Horrible, horrible timing for him to be here, but him regardless.

Amusement spreads over Buck’s features, lips pulling upwards and brows knitting together. He gives Eddie a quick once over, eyes trailing up and down his body to make sense of… well, everything he’s seeing. 

Eddie’s hair meticulously gelled with a singular strand hanging down his forehead, semi-formal clothes he’d actually steamed this afternoon. His wide eyes, shaky movements, and general aura of a skittish deer caught in headlights. 

It's embarrassing almost, Buck seeing him try so hard. 

“Am I… interrupting something?” Buck asks with a smirk, his voice doing that deep, crackly thing it does when he draws out his syllables. “Looking good, man. But also, like, kinda manic?” 

Eddie lets out a groan. “Look, Buck, I’m gonna be honest with you here. This isn’t a great time to be stopping by.”

Understatement of the century, really. 

She could be here at any moment, and he doesn’t really think it’s the best look to have his best friend hanging around his porch like some kind of stray cat. 

“No, yeah, I figured that much,” he replies, chuckling slightly as he takes a few steps backward. “Sorry, Pepa didn’t mention that you had a date. I wouldn’t have—“ 

Ringing floods Eddie’s ears, drowning out whatever else Buck is rambling about. Eddie can see his lips moving — every movement in hyperfocus, slowed down somehow — but he honestly can’t take any of it in. 

Because there’s no way Buck just said Pepa. 

Did Pepa… tell Buck to come over? The same Pepa that knew his date was on her way? 

Surely that’s not—

“—but don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair. Good luck in there, player.”

Buck starts to recede back down the porch steps, sticking to his word, but Eddie calls out in a desperate choke before he can leave. 

“Wait!” Eddie damn near yells, making Buck pretty much jump out of his skin. “You’re telling me Tía Pepa sent you?”

It's a misunderstanding. It has to be. 

“Yeah?” Buck raises an untrusting eyebrow. “Is that alright? You know we trade recipes—“ 

He cuts him off with a strained breath. “What did she say?”

There’s no way. There’s just… There’s no fucking way. 

“Something about Christopher being out of the house.” Yeah, because of the date she set him up on. “I guess she just, like, thought you could use the company. Obviously didn’t know about your mystery woman.”

Or mystery man , his subconscious echoes back at him. Otherwise known as Evan Buckley. 

Because Buck is his date, it would appear. Pepa didn’t send over one of her friend’s nieces, but his own best friend. 

His very male, very bisexual best friend. 

Buck. 

What was she even—

It might not be what you’re expecting. 

And, well, she’s got him there, because, yeah. Believe it or not, he hadn't even considered the possibility of Pepa setting him up with his own goddamn best friend! Congratu-fucking-lations to her for hoodwinking him with that one! 

God, how is he going to explain this to Buck? 

His heart drops to his stomach, suddenly a lot more flustered — a lot more manic , to use Buck’s word — than he was a minute ago. The ghost of a laugh threatens his lips — because, really, this is just freaking ridiculous — before giving way to a shuddered breath in an instant. 

This can’t be happening. Like, really can’t be happening. 

“Pepa told you to come over,” he repeats, disbelief rife in his voice. “During my date .”

Just as he’s about to let Buck go, already creating a whole storyline in his head of how this supposed date went to tell him at work in the morning, Pepa’s voice rings through his skull like the most overbearing, most baffling intercom in the world. 

Promise me that you’ll give it a chance, no matter what. 

Just trust me on this, mijo. 

And didn’t he promise her that, at the very least? 

Even though her methods are sneaky and conniving and all around just completely bewildering, he had promised to stick to her stupid conditions. Only he really, genuinely hadn’t had this in mind when he agreed to them. 

Because, really, how was he to know? He’s always, always dated women. She’d only ever wanted to set him up with women. 

So, where had this Buck angle come from? 

I need you to try to see what I’m seeing. 

That’s just—

God, he doesn’t know how to even begin unpacking that. What could she have possibly seen to enable any of this? 

And despite all the countless, spiraling, damning thoughts taking up space in his mind, he knows he has to stick to his promise. All he has to do is try to keep an open mind, ultimately reaffirm Buck’s place in his life as his completely platonic best friend, and never, ever let him catch wind of Pepa’s true intentions for the evening. 

Easy. 

So, he stumbles on his words once again, anxieties very much returning and manifesting in the shaking of his voice. 

Man, why is this so nerve-racking? It’s Buck , for God’s sake. 

“Buck, I…” Eddie begins, cheeks flushing with heat. “I got stood up.”

It’s a good enough cover, honestly. Probably something Buck won’t want to prod at too much, and it goes without saying that that’ll work in Eddie’s favor. 

Pity washes over his best friend’s face. “Ah, man. Why didn’t you say something?” 

“Embarrassed, I guess,” he swallows, the sentiment – at the very least – ringing true despite him lying through his teeth right now. “I cooked steak, did the whole wine and candles ordeal and everything. And now it’s just, like… all lying there.”

“Damn, she obviously doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.” 

Eddie’s chest squeezes. Not helping me out here, buddy. 

“You hungry?” Eddie clears his throat, leaning himself against the doorway in an incredibly awkward, struggling-to-be casual manner. “Might be the only semi-decent meal I’ll ever make. Would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Well,” Buck starts, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, “I guess I’ll be the judge of that.” 

And then he’s crossing the threshold, hand firmly on Eddie’s shoulder for just a second as he passes him and heads for the dining room. 

Eddie has to take a minute to compose himself before even thinking about joining him, pressing himself back against the wall and attempting to turn shallow breaths into longer, purposeful ones. His hands shake, throat feeling as though it’s closing in on itself. 

Is he really, genuinely doing this? 

It’s just Buck , he tells himself. It doesn’t have to be different unless you make it different. 

It doesn’t… have to mean anything. Because he had told Pepa he’d open himself to possibility, yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s actually going to feel right in the way she wants it to. 

He just… has to give it a chance. That’s all. He’s pretty sure he can do that much. 

——

Dinner with Buck, as it turns out, isn’t worth the borderline panic attack it had inflicted on him at first. 

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Buck’s his best friend, someone who puts him at ease like no one else can, and Eddie probably should’ve remembered that when he was mentally turning himself into Jello in the foyer. 

The date he’s not sure he should be calling a date, considering Buck is oblivious to it being so, isn’t quite as intimidating, quite as existentially conflicting as it could be. It’s actually… nice, for the lack of a stronger word. 

Honestly, it isn’t all that different from any other time they’ve eaten dinner together — something they’ve done a hell of a lot recently, pretty every night from the funeral until Buck had signed his lease that past week. 

So, yeah, it proves to be nothing to worry about. 

Well. 

Mostly, anyway. 

Because it is different, no matter how much he wants to convince himself otherwise. 

Pepa’s voice is always present in the back of his head, replaying a constant loop of date, date, date that echoes in the deepest recesses. Try to see what I’m seeing. 

And what he’s seeing— it’s pretty surreal, actually. 

Buck sitting there, just across from him, pale pink skin flushed by candlelight. Eddie would like to think that, if he actually knew it was a date between the two of them, he wouldn’t be sporting baggy basketball shorts and a hoodie. Either that, or one of them would be severely overdressed, and it certainly wouldn’t be Buck. 

Coming as a surprise to absolutely nobody, Buck is the one to keep up the flow of conversation; babbling on about everything and anything while waving his fork around in the air for further emphasis, even complimenting Eddie’s cooking in a backhanded, teasing sort of way. 

When Eddie knocks over his wine glass and the liquid spills right onto his plate, Buck’s eyes gleam with tears of hilarity, pretty much keeling over the table as he erupts into side-splitting laughter. And when he calms down, hearty chuckles mellowing to pained hiccups, Buck pushes his own plate into the middle of the table and suggests that they just share his. 

They spend the remainder of the meal unsuccessfully trying not to tangle their arms together while reaching for another bite, skin brushing against each other in a way that makes goosebumps creep up Eddie’s arms. 

But it’s alright. It’s relaxed, and it’s Buck , and Eddie thinks there’s no other friend he’d rather be tricked into going on a date with than him. 

Because he is on a date with Buck. Like right now.

He’s on a date with Buck . 

Eddie Diaz is on a date with Evan Buckley. 

And he doesn’t totally feel out of place, somehow. Not like he had on pretty much any other first date he’d had the misfortune of suffering through. 

He chalks it up to the simple fact that Buck is his best friend, that he's never not enjoyed his company in whatever form it had come to him. Of course he’s going to feel comfortable — to feel content — with him over a total stranger. 

Because when Buck looks at someone, when he looks at Eddie , it feels like he’s the only person in the world worth paying attention to. And, well, he hasn't had that in a date setting before. Like, ever. 

It’s just that… 

He just finds himself thinking that if all his dates were as easy as they were with Buck then maybe he would’ve had a bit more success by now. And if any of them were half as attentive, as entertaining, as Buck as he is, then maybe— 

Oh. 

Yeah, okay, he hears it now. 

That’s definitely new. Or at least he thinks it is. 

Maybe? 

Had Pepa gotten into his head that easily? 

Eddie looks up from his dessert with careful, cautious eyes, and it’s like he’s seeing Buck for the very first time again. The familiarity is still there, somehow, and yet he’s never quite seen him like this before. 

Bright, attentive eyes staring back at him. Stark features bathed in the glow of candlelight. Veins protruding from his hands. Tongue swiping across his bottom lip mid-sentence, ridding the corners of chocolate syrup. 

Someone new, someone… desirable . 

Eddie swallows back that thought, his own tongue suddenly feeling like a briar patch someone’s shoved into his mouth. 

And, oh god, he really is fucked, isn’t he?

——

“You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?!” 

Pepa thought he would’ve at least waited until morning before storming the house, all guns-a-blazing. 

It's eleven at night. She’s already in her robe, a fresh round of skincare products seeping into her skin, ready to turn in, and suddenly there’s an incessant banging at the door. 

She doesn’t have to open the damn thing to know it’s Eddie — her favorite but most frustrating nephew. 

He strides into the house before it’s even fully open, bouncing on his toes, face flushed red, and fingertips buried in the roots of his hair. Already ranting and raving before he’s even said hello . 

It would have been naive of her to expect their next meeting to go any differently, really. So, she had been expecting the fuss.

She knew Eddie would be unhappy with her. Of course she did. 

But it had to be done. Really, it had. This nonsense between him and Buck has gone on long enough. 

You think you’re hilarious, don’t you?

“Edmundo, please,” she groans, massaging her temples. It’s way too late for this. “Lower your voice. This is no time to—“ 

Eddie digs his heels into the ground. “No, actually, I think this is the perfect time! Because we’re doing this now, whether you like it or not. Now, go on, Tía. Tell me what the hell that stunt you just pulled was.”

“I set you up on a date with someone I knew would be good for you.” Pepa keeps her tone flat, using clear and concise words. He doesn’t have to make peace with it yet, but whether he likes it or not, that’s exactly what she had done. “Just like you asked me to.”

“No, you set me up with Buck .” 

She waves a hand, brushing him off. “Same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it,” he defends, voice rough at the edges. His eyes are wide, frantic, looking as though they’re about to bulge out of his head. “Just because Buck dates men now doesn't mean that I—“

Her next words come out sharper than intended, blunt and to the point in a way she’s not sure is all that productive. 

“Tell me I’m wrong then.”

Eddie’s expression falters. “What?”

“Tell me I’m wrong, Eddie.” Pepa takes a breath, unsure of how much grace to give him. It’s a difficult line to toe, especially with someone as stubborn as her nephew. “Tell me that there’s nothing going on there — that he hasn’t been the person you fall back on when no one else makes you feel safe enough to, the one whose happiness you care about over your own — and I’ll apologise for sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“He’s my best friend .” 

Defensive, as always. Deny, deny, deny. 

“You don’t think Paco is mine? Mijo , don’t you know that’s the whole point?” 

That renders Eddie speechless for a moment, lips parted as his tongue runs over his bottom row of teeth. She’s getting through to him, she sees that now, chipping away at the carefully constructed dam that keeps all those unwanted, repressed emotions in check. 

Her nephew’s next breath is labored, his bottom jaw jittering, and it’s then that she knows she’s finally managed to burst it. 

“I… can’t ,” he breathes out with a raw vulnerability she hasn’t seen in him since he was a little boy. Is that how long it’s been since Eddie hadn’t filtered his feelings? “I can’t think of him that way. It'll ruin everything, Pepa. That’s just… not an option, alright? So, no, I can’t be in love with Buck. Because it would change literally everything else .” 

In love . 

She hadn’t even used those words. 

“Eddie, look at me.” It’s a request she immediately regrets, the sight of his wet, red-rimmed eyes staring back at her with such hurt making her own sting. “You don’t have to answer for any of this, cariño . Just feel it. I promise you, these mental hurdles you’re up against, they’re going to feel so much smaller once you’re on the other side of them. But for that, you’ve got to take the leap first.”

It’s a big ask, she knows that. But she just hopes he values his own happiness a fraction of as much as she does.

Eddie juts his hip into the kitchen counter, placing his hand on the granite worktop. “What about Chris? What if I’m not who he thought I was?”

Pepa holds her hand over his, offering him half a smile. “He loves you. And I don’t think I have to tell you that he loves Buck, too. The two of you, you’ve been the stability in his life for longer than I’m sure you’ve noticed. Whatever you have to say to him, he’ll listen.” 

Christopher’s perception of his father being rocked by anything is unfathomable to her, and she’s not sure Eddie even realizes just how much that boy idolizes him. Or Buck, for that matter. 

But, hey, they all love Buck. She wouldn’t have pulled the stunt she did if she didn’t have every faith that he could take care of her boys the way they deserve. 

He’d already proved that time and time again, hadn’t he? 

“And if he doesn’t feel the same way?” Eddie asks carefully, rubbing his thumb against the side of her hand. “Buck, I mean. It’s not like he knew it was a date when he agreed to come over, so what if he—“ 

If they were in literally any other situation, she would laugh in his face, but she doubts he’d appreciate it very much considering the fragile state he’s in right now. 

Being oblivious to his own feelings is one thing, but how the hell can he not see the other side of the coin? 

Yeah, sure, Buck doesn’t reciprocate. And the Pope isn’t a Catholic. And a bear doesn’t shit in the— 

“Oh, mijo ,” she coos instead, as fond as she was the day she first met him, cupping his cheek. “I don’t think that’s something you have to worry about. I've seen the way that boy looks at you, and I've seen the way you look at him — pretty much mirror images, hm?” 

While Eddie, mostly, looks unconvinced, the slightest of smiles tugs at the corner of his lips anyway. Oh, he’s gone. So gone. 

“I don’t… know what I’d say. I think I care about him in ways I’ll never understand.” A beat of silence, then a roll of his eyes. “Well, clearly .” 

“Then tell him that. It doesn’t have to make sense, you just have to feel it. And it seems like you’ve finally let yourself do that much. I hate to break it to you, Eddie, but I think he’s been waiting around for you to have that same epiphany for a while now. So, let’s not waste anymore time, shall we?” 

Pepa claps her hands together as if to say chop-chop with the slightest hint of I love you but please get out of my house , aware of the clock overhead ticking towards midnight.  

Eddie seems to get the message, dragging his feet towards the back door, but not without his final protest. “It still isn’t cool, by the way. What you did.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find it in yourself to forgive me one of these days. As soon as you realise you left me no choice.”

——

Eddie swore to himself that he’d wait for the end of the shift, and for the record, he really did try. 

It’s just— it’s a lot. Being around Buck right now; holding his tongue during calls and hiding in shadowy corners of the firehouse when not. If Eddie could just glance in his direction without getting flashbacks to his conversation with Pepa, it would be okay. But that’s all he can see in his mind’s eye – the pity in her face, the way she cupped his cheek, himself saying I can’t be in love with Buck while full well he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter.

So, he does the mature thing. He hides like a little bitch. Simple. 

It’s easier than it could have been a few months ago, now that he’s joined Hen in being part of the paramedic team, no longer working one-on-one with Buck. And while he misses him – like a bitch, honestly – he’s counting his blessings today that Ravi is the one that has to keep Buck in check and occupied instead of him.

Thankfully, Buck and Ravi seem to be on an Uno kick at the minute, spending every spare moment of their shift arguing over the rules of a game Eddie is pretty sure Christopher has had memorized since he was seven. If Eddie refuses to join – partly because they’re annoyingly competitive, mostly because it’s difficult to so much as breathe Buck’s air right now – then he can buy himself some time away from him without raising any red flags.

Buck probably doesn’t even notice Eddie’s inability to be around him.

Only Eddie does. He notices it with every breath he takes – the distance, the unspoken words, the tension he’s not really sure how to place. And it’s torture . Really, it is. 

Ripping the Band-Aid off wasn’t exactly the game plan, not until after work at least, but it’s what he finds himself doing when he holds one hand over his pounding chest and taps his other thumb against his phone keyboard.

Roof

Make sure you ditch Ravi first 

uhhh ok

be right there 

It takes Buck all of two minutes to join him on the rooftop, sweaty and panting as though he’d run all the way up the staircase. It wouldn’t surprise Eddie if he had, honestly, because his best friend had never had a track record for not overthinking every blunt, out of character text Eddie – or anyone, really – had ever sent him.

“Everything alright?” is the first thing Buck asks, shortly followed by, “There any reason why you’ve declared this a No-Ravi Zone?”

“It’s not about him,” Eddie mutters back, his voice failing him before he’s even begun. “There’s just… There’s something that’s come up, and I’d really rather you were alone when I spoke to you about it.”

The light leaves Buck’s eyes, jumping to the worst case scenario. “What’s going on? Christopher, is he…”

Straight to worrying about Chris. As if Eddie didn’t need another reason to be completely smitten with him.

“Chris is fine, Buck. But what I wanted to say, it kinda does concern my family.”

“Pepa?” Buck supplies, and for a moment Eddie thinks he’s absolutely done for. He knows. Of course he fucking knows . “She didn’t have another stroke, did she?”

Another minute of dealing with us and she might’ve.

“She’s okay, too. No medical emergencies of any kind.”

A thoughtful look settles on Buck’s face, scouring every last brain cell for another category five disaster that could be rocking the Diaz family. “Then you’ve lost me, man.” 

Eddie sucks in a breath between his teeth, just enough to work himself up. 

“I lied to you last night.”

His best friend’s brow furrows, his birthmark crinkling with it. “Huh?” 

Eddie knows it isn’t what Buck had been expecting to hear. Dishonesty had never had a place in their friendship – the ugliest, dumbest parts of them always disclosed even if through barred teeth. The Kim situation was proof enough of that. 

“My date didn’t stand me up,” Eddie breathes out. 

“Oh?” Buck wets his lips, unsure of how to respond to that. “So, what, she was just hiding under the table the whole time we were eating? Because, if so, that’s pretty weird, Eddie. Even for you.”

Okay, so this is gonna be a lot fucking harder than it needs to be. Great. Cool.

“No, nobody was—” Eddie starts, heaving out a sigh. It’s just… it’s frustrating, is all. “Jesus, Buck, I don’t know how to say this. My date didn’t stand me up. He was pretty punctual, actually, which is shocking if you know him.”

The color drains from Buck’s face, his lips mouthing the word he as though he’s trying to figure out if Eddie could have meant anything else by it. His voice squeaks when it comes, several octaves higher than usual. “Eddie, w-what are you saying right now?”

“Tía Pepa… set us up.” It comes out with a hint of a laugh, dry and hesitant. “You were my date, you just didn’t know it . And neither did I until you showed up on my doorstep and told me she had sent you.”

Buck blinks back at him, still and motionless like a buffering stream. “But you’re straight. Doesn’t she know—”

“She said she’d only help me out if I kept an open mind, that no matter what I had to promise to give it a fair shot and try to see what she’s seeing .” He echoes her words with a hint of sarcasm, hoping Buck will see the humor in it. Suffice to say he doesn’t. The horrified look on his face hasn’t been wiped off yet, but Eddie keeps persevering anyway. “In hindsight, I probably should've known what she was up to there and then.”

“God, I swear I didn’t mean—” Buck starts, raw panic filling his voice. “If she picked up something on my end— Just let me talk to her, alright? I should’ve cleared it up sooner, that night when she made us dinner and kept going on about change and our Eddie . I’m just— I’m really sorry.”

The two of them had talked that night? About Eddie?

Our Eddie? 

Had Pepa been playing both sides? 

“Wait, shut up a second,” Eddie bursts out, ungraceful and wagging a finger in the air to shush Buck. “What do you mean, if she picked up something on your end?” 

It’s not as if Eddie didn’t believe Pepa’s assurance last night — he was sure that she believed what she was saying, anyway— just that hearing Buck so much as allude to any probable reciprocation feels like a shot to the chest — and believe him, he’d know . 

“You know what. Just… please don’t make me say it.” 

It’s a desperate, shy plea as Buck stares down at his shoes. But it makes Eddie feel like he’s floating. Buck likes him back. By some miracle, Buck actually feels the same way. 

Or at least he’s pretty sure of it. 

“Alright. That’s fine.” Eddie lets out a calm, restrained breath. “But if you don’t mind, I’m gonna say it. Because it’s pretty obvious that we both need to hear it.”

“Do you have to?” 

"Yeah, Buck, I think I do." And here goes fucking nothing. "When I realised what Pepa was up to, to be brutally honest here, I could've laughed, you know? It felt like a practical joke, at least at first. Because that just... wasn't even an option. I'd never once thought that I could, you know, let myself consider that. Consider you as anything more than my best friend."

"Okay, Eddie, I get it,” Buck jumps in abruptly, shutting down whatever’s coming his way next. "You don't have to let me down easy."

"I'm not gonna do that, Buck."

"Be brutal then, sure. Maybe that way it'll stick."

He’s just… He’s so impossible. If he’d just listen then— 

"For the love of God, would you just listen ?" His voice comes out more grating than expected, making him take a second to compose himself before articulating his next words. "Pepa's words, they kept echoing in the back of my head while we were eating dinner. Give it a chance, Eddie. Open yourself to possibility, Eddie. Just trust me on this, Eddie. So, I did. I sat back and watched you sip wine, listened to you blabber on about that guy at your gym you think has it out for you, paid attention to the way your eyes lit up whenever I mentioned my own damn kid, and I thought back to how it had been with Ana and Marisol. And you wanna know what I realised?"

His feelings for Shannon are something he doesn’t want to touch with a six foot pole right now, scared of what he’ll find if he delves in too deeply too soon, so he focuses on them instead. 

“Not really,” Buck quips back, relentless as ever. “I know it’s not the same, man. You don’t have to spell it out for me.”

He’s preparing for disaster, so he’s shutting himself off — Eddie knows that look, knows the dissociation that comes with it all too well. 

But needs Buck to hear him this time, for nothing if not the sake of his sanity. 

"Oh, you’re really not getting it. I realised, Evan , that it had never been that natural with them — either of them.” Eddie studies Buck’s face carefully as he speaks, getting tongue tied but looking out for those micro-expressions only he can spot. The ones that, against Buck’s better judgment, might prove that his point is translating across. "I wasn't questioning every move I made, I didn't feel that itch under my skin I couldn't quite get at. I wasn't... thinking five moves ahead, like I was with them. I realised I didn't see them as dates but as potential wives, someone I could stretch out and cram into the spot Shannon left. I don't think it was ever about them, Buck. Just Chris. Pretty ironic considering how much those relationships hurt him."

Buck parts his lip slightly, squinting against the sun shining in his eyes, and Eddie really believes he’s gotten the message this time. 

And then, right on cue: "So, what you're saying is with them it was about pleasing Christopher, and with me it was about pleasing your aunt?"

Jeez, how much more direct does he have to be? How is Buck still not getting this? Why is he jumping through hoops to find every and any excuse to believe Eddie is anything less than absolutely, hopelessly enamored with him? 

Okay, deep breaths, Eddie. Let’s try that again. 

"What I'm saying is that I'd never been able to find someone to fill that space in my life — the one I wanted them to fill — because it hadn't been empty to begin with. Hadn't been for a long time." He lets out a wet chuckle, a little presumptuously, a little helplessly. "Pepa noticed that even when I didn't want to. And, unfortunately for you, I needed her to give me a kick up the ass to finally be able to see it myself."

Then, finally, the softness of recognition relaxes the muscles in Buck’s face. "You mean—"

"She was right, Buck, about you being it for me. I just couldn't see it for looking at it."   

It's only then that the audacity of the situation hits him, eyes flitting between Buck’s features individually, watching him recoil into his navy LAFD shirt of all things. Because they’re at work . Eddie is making Buck process all of this on company time , the risk of the alarm going off at any moment hanging over their heads. 

Man, what the fuck is wrong with him? 

“Eddie, I—“ Buck starts, cut off almost immediately by Eddie, who can now physically feel the seconds pass by him. 

He can’t be caught out, can’t only get out half of what he wants to now that he’s got the momentum going. He can't rest — can’t focus on a potentially life-saving call of all things — until Buck knows the full extent of what he means to Eddie. 

It’s not something he thinks he’s heard from any of his former partners — at least not while meaning it like Eddie does — and while that’s absolutely fucking unfathomable to him, Eddie would happily be the first to truly appreciate Buck the way he deserves. The last, too, hopefully. 

The notion itself terrifies him to no end, but he’s done running from it. It feels like he’s finally caught up with the truest, most natural part of him — the part that loves Buck — and it’s just as liberating as it is intimidating. 

But he's getting ahead of himself. 

"All this time, you've always been there — making me laugh, tolerating my company, helping me pick up the pieces when I'd inevitably detonate my life and couldn't see it coming,” Eddie says, his voice getting louder through the passion of every word. “And when I was in El Paso, I just— I missed you so much, you know? Chris missed you so much, and it was like we'd lost a part of ourselves. When we got back, it made sense again — with us, the three of us.”

Buck looks like he might cry, mouth gaping open with a shuddering breath. 

“When you moved out, everything started feeling emptier , and I couldn't figure out why. So I asked Pepa to get me a date. And, thankfully, she saw right through me, because I’m not sure I would’ve figured it out on my own.” 

“I felt like I was playing with fire,” Buck croaks out, blinking back tears of what Eddie hopes is joy. “Living there. Having that life but only halfway. It was torture, Eddie. But also, like, bliss? Like a glimpse into a future I wanted but could never actually have.” 

“You can have it,” Eddie breathes, only now feeling brave enough to reach out for Buck’s hand. A burst of electricity shoots up his spine as his hand hangs from Buck’s fingers, careful but intentional. “Please, Buck, just take it. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

Because it’s Buck, he still can’t take his word at face value. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to be saying all this just because it’s what you think I want to hear.” 

“Oh, I’m so sure,” Eddie practically giggles, catching himself slipping. God, get it together, man. You’re embarrassing yourself already.   “So, I'm asking you, Buck, will you go on another date with me? One you're actually aware is a date?"

Buck offers him a shit-eating grin. “Only if you let me cook this time.”

“Hey, you said you liked it!” Eddie gasps, giving Buck’s shoulder a playful shove. 

Gravity pulls Buck back and then some, taking a step into Eddie’s space and tugging at the hem of his shirt to bring him even closer. His hand settles there, clutching a fistful. Eddie breathes in his presence, chewing at his bottom lip to keep himself in check. 

This wanting— it’s overwhelming, debilitating in a way he’s never dealt with before. If he had his way, he’d melt into Buck’s body right here and now, get stuck in every inch of him like molasses. 

Work, Edmundo. You’re still at work. 

“For an Eddie Meal, yeah,” he teases, eyelashes fluttering and mouth stretching into a smirk. “Plus, I was being a gentleman. You put in a lot of effort, Eds. Now let me do the same for you.”

He clicks his tongue. “Just wish I had done it with you in mind.”

“Next time,” Buck hums, face now mere inches away from Eddie’s. 

Heart stuttering in his chest, breath hitching in his throat, Eddie finds it difficult to believe there was ever a time he hadn’t known he was attracted to Buck. Because this feeling—

It’s new yet so familiar. So instinctual, so raw . 

Like it had lain dormant for years, waiting, waiting, waiting to be activated. Practically bursting at the seams this whole time but somehow kept in check by everything he hadn’t wanted to face up to. 

“That you promising me a third date, Buckley?  Careful, I might start thinking you’re obsessed with me or something.” 

And then Buck’s index finger is beneath his chin, grazing the skin there as he tilts Eddie’s head up ever so slightly to meet his eyes. Eddie lays a hand on his chest, not to push him away but in a desperate attempt at centering himself. 

When Buck’s lips meet his own – delicate, purposeful, exactly what Eddie needed without even asking for it  – every lingering doubt he had left fizzles away, hands grappling at any part of Buck he can tether himself to, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to just never let him go. He bets he could climb into his shirt if he wanted to, stay there until their skin melds together.

God, he’s never felt this crazy before. How had he ever been able to keep a clear head around Buck before? All he’s ever going to think about from now on are his lips, his stubble scraping against Eddie’s face, his touch .

Kiss me harder , he wills as he snags Buck’s lip with his teeth. Kiss me stupid, more stupid than you’re making me feel.

And of course, that’s when the alarm decides to sound.

Being the professionals they are, they tear apart within an instant. Breathily, Buck lets out a soft, dazed huff while Eddie can’t so much as wipe the grin from his face. 

“Rain check?” Buck says, lips pink and so, so tempting.

Someone could be dying , he reminds himself. Get your shit together, Eddie.

Eddie swallows harshly. “Gonna hold you to that, Buck.”

By the time they reach the engine, Eddie’s body is still humming but he manages to wrangle his head into something resembling professionalism anyway. His knees are bumping against Buck’s – sat across from him, casting bashful glances – with every uneven patch of the road. 

They’re still a good seven minutes out, so Eddie takes the chance to shoot Pepa a text, never once having considered that he’d one day be this grateful for her meddling ways.

Okay I think I forgive you now 

🙄🙄🙄

Te amo my crazy boy ❤️❤️

Tell him that extends to him too