Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a reason Buck keeps hooking up at work.

It’s… maybe not a good reason. But it is a reason.

That reason is four years old, three feet tall, and the center of Buck’s universe. But also, more pressingly in context, a resident of Buck’s apartment. And he can’t go out on his nights off anymore, because he’s spending so many fewer nights at home and he really, really doesn’t want to miss any more. And hooking up with someone in the middle of the day isn’t really within most people’s schedule.

So, work hookups. Not professional, not really smart, but it’s where he’s landed.

Until, that is, he gets fired for it.

Now the thing is, Bobby knows about the four-year-old at the center of Buck’s universe. Bobby knows and is firing Buck anyway, because he’s blown through all of his chances, but there’s a look in his eye like he really, really wishes he didn’t have to do this.

It’s luck that has Buck still at the station when the call comes in. It’s luck that dispatch and police need someone and a free fire engine. It’s luck that Hen points them Buck’s way.

There’s an odd look in Sergeant Grant’s eye as Buck talks to the little girl and her mom when it’s all over. Buck doesn’t have the time or energy to wonder about it in the moment, too caught up in trying to talk up how brave and resourceful the daughter was so that in the long term this doesn’t become a haunting, traumatic memory. He gets a high five and a watery smile from the kid for his troubles.

“You were good with her,” Sergeant Grant says, not really bothering to hide the note of surprise in her voice.

Buck shrugs. “She’s a little older than mine, but a lot of the same tricks work on big kids, you know?”

“You have a daughter?” says Sergeant Grant.

“Oh,” Buck replies. Of course she doesn’t know. He’s not entirely sure Hen and Chim have put it together, and he talks about Peanut all the time. “Yeah! Marnie, she’s four.”

“Huh,” says Sergeant Grant. She’s got this curious look that Buck isn’t quite sure how to interpret. “Take care of yourself, Buckley.”

“Uh, yeah,” says Buck.

He and Sergeant Grant hadn’t gotten off on the best foot. He knows she’s friends with Hen, but he hasn’t interacted with her much outside of getting really defensive over a baby whose mother tried to flush her down a toilet. And, like, he gets that the mom was also a kid and felt trapped and maybe he shouldn’t have tried to deny her care, but like – Buck gets a little touchy about child abandonment, okay?

All of this is to say that he is shocked to arrive back at the station to his job back and – apparently – a glowing review from Sergeant Grant. He really, really is. But he’s grateful.

“I won’t let you down,” Buck promises Bobby.

Bobby studies him. “I know you won’t, kid. I think you’ve learned your lesson. Now get dressed, your shift’s not done yet.”

Hen catches Buck on his way to the locker room. “You want to tell me why Athena Grant just asked me if I’ve ever met your kid?”

“Probably because she just found I have one,” Buck says, shrugging. “I think she was surprised.”

“Buck,” Hen says. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

“I talk about her all the time!” Buck says.

“What?” says Hen, startled.

“Marnie Maddie,” says Buck, fishing his phone out to show Hen his lock screen. “I call her Peanut.”

“Peanut is a human person?” says Hen.

“I – yes?” Buck says. He glances down at his phone to double check that the image on his lock screen is still his then-three-year-old daughter hanging upside-down on the playground and grinning at the camera.

“Not a puppy,” Hen continues.

“No?”

Hen stares at Buck for a long moment, then turns on her heel to walk upstairs. “Chim! Did you know that Peanut is a human child and not a small animal?”

“Buck’s Peanut?” Chim calls back, leaning over the railing. “No? Is she not a dog?”

“No!” Buck replies. “She’s a preschooler!”

“What?”

Buck shakes his head and goes into the locker room to change. He’s sure he won’t hear the end of this any time soon.

The thing is, it’s not even that good of a story. Buck spent three years wandering the country and sleeping around, which finally caught up with him here in LA. He was bartending, and one of his hookups showed back up to slam a positive pregnancy test down on the bar. He’d waited until she left to scrub the bar top down. That moment changed his life – Olivia had said this is your fault, so it’s going to be your problem. She didn’t want a kid, and would have put Marnie up for adoption if Buck hadn’t wanted to raise her, but had the – reasonable – expectation that even if they put the baby up for adoption, Buck would have her back through the pregnancy and help pay for stuff. Especially after Buck decided that he did want to keep the baby.

He'd stopped roaming when Marnie was born. He didn’t find his way to firefighting immediately – he’d still been bartending, and he’d picked up a few other jobs along the way, before stumbling into firefighting almost by accident – and when Marnie was born he was living in a sad little apartment that wasn’t really large enough for two people. Fortunately, at the time, Marnie was pretty small and not particularly mobile.

Now that she’s four – and definitely mobile, she’s fast – a lot of Buck’s money goes to a pretty nice two-bedroom apartment and the nanny who looks after her when he’s at work outside of daycare hours. He’d waffled for a long time about that, because he didn’t want to hire someone he thought he’d fall into bed with, and he ended up finding a guy a little bit younger than Buck himself with a degree in early childhood education who gets along great with Marnie and is safely off of Buck’s radar for hookups.

It's not that exciting.

“You know,” Chimney says when Buck gets upstairs. “I always was surprised you weren’t a teen dad.”

“Still wasn’t,” Buck points out. “She was born when I was twenty-two.”

“Wow,” says Chimney. “And is her government name Peanut Buckley?”

“Marnie,” says Buck. “Marnie Maddie Buckley.”

“Oh, that’s – alliterative,” Hen says. She sounds like she really is trying to compliment it, but is falling a little short.

Buck shrugs. “I know it’s a little weird. But I picked the two names separately and didn’t realize they’d be a little silly strung together until I was already committed. Maddie is my big sister’s name.”

“Why not Madeline or Madison or whatever as the middle name?” Chim asks.

“Maddie isn’t short for anything. We were ‘not a nickname family.’” says Buck. He tilts his head, considering. “I think my parents may hate fun.”

“Every time you tell me something about yourself, I feel like I understand less,” Hen says.

Buck is glad to have his job back, or to have been fired and rehired in so little time that the firing part doesn’t actually count, but he finds himself counting down the minutes until the end of his shift. He likes Hen and Chim well enough, but they don’t know each other that well yet, and he’s reaching his limit for being teased about something they don’t really understand.

 At least Bobby’s mostly been staying out of it. But he also definitely did know that Marnie was a human child.

Still, it’s nice to get to the end of his shift knowing there’ll be another, and nice to get home to the four-year-old at the center of the universe.

When Buck gets to his apartment, Marnie is deep in an explanation about frogs at the kitchen table while her nanny, David, cuts up fruit. He’s nodding at all the appropriate times, and as Buck kicks his shoes off he hears him ask a leading question that gets her going again. That had been Buck’s other main criterion when he’d been looking for someone to watch her – no one who would shut Marnie down when she’s excited about something. Buck grew up in a house where, despite Maddie’s best efforts, his enthusiasm was mostly looked at as a burden, and never wants Marnie to feel that way.

“What’cha talking about, Peanut?” Buck says from the kitchen doorway.

“Daddy!” Marnie says, delighted. She wriggles out of her chair and darts across the room to throw her arms around his legs. “You’re home!”

“I’m home!” Buck agrees. He scoops Marnie up, swinging her up over his head before settling her on his hip. “Did you do anything fun at school or with David while I was gone?”

“I got a book about frogs at the library!” Marnie chirps. “Daddy! Daddy, did you know frogs can be colors? Not just green?”

“I didn’t know that,” Buck says. “We’ll have to read your book together later.”

“It’s in her room,” David says. He finishes cutting up the fruit and rinses his hands off. “She’s also got some art projects she wanted to show you that are still in her backpack, which at this point I understand means that there’s a reasonable chance they’ll live in there for eternity.”

Buck laughs. He’d be offended if it weren’t true, but – well, David isn’t wrong. “We’re working on object permanence as a team, I guess.”

“You’ll get it someday, champ,” says David. “Do you need me to hang out a little longer so you can nap today?”

“Nah,” says Buck, “it was a pretty chill shift. Thanks – see you tomorrow.”

“See you,” David says. “Bye-bye, Marnie!”

“Bye-bye, Davey!” Marnie says, leaning back to watch him leave upside-down.

“Okay, Peanut,” Buck says, “we’ve got the whole day together. Do you want to go to the park or the zoo?”

“Zoo!” Marnie cheers. “I want to look for frogs!”

Buck laughs. “Alright, we can do that.”

So they go to the zoo, and they spend almost an hour watching the frogs and reptiles alone. Marnie is a curious kid but usually has a hard time focusing, until they get somewhere like this and she locks in, hooked on every word Buck reads off of the informational signs and on every minute movement the animals make. She reminds Buck a lot of himself when he was a kid in so many ways, and all Buck can do is hope and pray he’s doing a better job of handling her than his parents did with him.

Buck loves days like this. Someday, Marnie will probably think that she’s too cool to hang out with her dad like this, so Buck fully intends to embrace and enjoy it as long as he can. They read every single sign they come across, and when Marnie starts to get tired, Buck swings her up onto his back so she can peek over his shoulder at the animals. They end their visit with ice cream, because this is the first Saturday Buck’s had off in weeks and he feels like making it up to Marnie a little.

The adjustment to firefighting has been easier in some ways than how they were living before, harder in others. On one hand, he’s working longer, stranger hours than he ever did before. On the other, his time off is better suited to actually spending time with his kid when she’s not at school. He can afford the nicer apartment they’d been scraping by in before a lot more comfortably, can afford to pay David to watch Marnie outside of school hours while Buck works, and actually has pretty good health insurance. It was a rough start, but they’ve got it mostly figured out now.

The first real test of that, though, comes a few weeks later, when Buck has his first real loss on a call. Devon wasn’t the first person to die in front of Buck on the job – unfortunately, that’s just the nature of the job – but he was the first person Buck should have been able to save and just… couldn’t.

He isn’t handling it well.

He really doesn’t want to bring it home to Marnie, but he’s drowning in it and he doesn’t know how to shake it. Everyone keeps telling him that he’ll figure it out, he’ll wrap his head around it eventually even if he may never get over it exactly

Bobby points him in the direction of a department therapist, in the hope that working through it with a professional will help.

It – doesn’t.

“Hey, Bobby?” Buck says, tentative. He’s side-by-side with Bobby in the firehouse kitchen, carefully chopping veggies for dinner. He’s not very good at it yet.

“What’s up, Buck?” Bobby replies.

“If, hypothetically, a therapist initiated sex with a client during a session,” Buck says, carefully not looking at Bobby, “the client should maybe report that, right? That’s not – like, ethical?”

“What?” Bobby says, low and serious.

“’Cause, like, I feel like my, uh, sex perspective is a little skewed, and –“

“Buck,” Bobby interrupts. He’s set down what he was working on and turned to face Buck with a serious expression, and Buck knows that because Bobby doesn’t say another word until Buck does the same. “Did your therapist assault you?”

“Well, that’s kind of what I’m asking, I guess,” Buck says, ducking his head.

Bobby sighs. He doesn’t seem disappointed, which Buck had worried about a little bit, just frustrated and maybe a little sad. “Yes, Buck. If that happened, you should report it. That’s – no. That should never have happened, I’m sorry.”

Buck shrugs. “It was fine. I mean, I figured it was probably ethically dubious, but, like, I probably leave upwards of half of my sexual encounters feeling like shit, so –“

“Buck,” Bobby says, sounding pained.

“Right, TMI,” says Buck.

“No – no,” Bobby says, “you’re not supposed to leave any of your sexual encounters ‘feeling like shit.’ You know that, right?”

Buck shrugs again. “Well, it can’t be great every time.”

“You need to take better care of yourself, kid,” Bobby says. “This situation aside – this was different, and we’ll handle that – if having all this sex doesn’t even feel good, then why do it? Why engage in something that makes you feel worse?”

“Well, the other shit I used to get into to feel something has been mostly off the table since Marnie was born,” Buck says, combing his fingers through his hair. “I’m the only parent she’s got, so I can’t, you know, die.”

Bobby stares at him.

“I’m not, you know, actively suicidal anymore, is the thing,” Buck continues, because his mouth won’t stop moving. “But it’s hard to separate the adrenaline junkie stuff I used to get into from that, so I’ve been trying to steer clear, and – anyway. The sex works the same, in the end, even if the feeling is sometimes just well, that sucked.”

“Buck,” Bobby says again.

Buck shrugs. Again. “It’s fine.”

Anyway, failed attempt at therapy aside Buck does eventually settle with Devon’s death, and he thinks he does a decent job of not showing how devastated he’s been to his four-year-old.

The team meet Marnie for the first time under less-than-ideal circumstances. They’re in the hospital with Chim, who was impaled straight through the skull with a length of rebar in a highway accident. He’s alive, which is a miracle. There’s a real chance he’ll make a full recovery, which is even more of a miracle.

Buck, Hen, and Bobby are sitting with him while they wait for his – parents? Maybe? His emergency contacts – to arrive, none of them willing to leave him alone, when Buck’s phone rings.

He pulls it out of his pocket to decline the call, only to have the heart stopping discovery that it’s Marnie’s school calling at ten o’clock in the morning. He steps into the hall to answer.

“You’ve reached Evan Buckley,” Buck says, trying to sound calm and professional.

“Hi, Mr. Buckley, this is Viola Buchanan from the front office at Marnie’s school.” Buck knows Ms. Buchanan; she’s the receptionist he’s dealt with most often. “I’m calling to let you know that Marnie took a fall on the playground this morning and hurt her wrist. It’s probably nothing serious, but paramedics were called, and school policy is to have any significant at-school injuries evaluated at the ER.”

“Right, that’s – that makes sense,” says Buck. “Where are they taking her?”

Which is how Buck ends up downstairs at the very same hospital while his four-year-old gets her first x-ray. One of her teachers had ridden to the hospital with her, which Buck appreciates, though she seems surprised by how quickly Buck meets them there. It ends up being just a minor sprain, thank goodness, but Marnie is understandably a little bit clingy after, the whole thing having been overwhelming and a little scary, so Buck doesn’t take her back to school.

“Hey, Peanut, do you want to come up and meet my friends?” Buck asks, scooping Marnie up onto his hip.

“Here?” Marnie says. She tilts her head to one side, curious.

“My friend Chimney was in a car accident last night,” says Buck. “He got hurt, and we were visiting him when your school called me. He’s still sleeping, but you could meet Bobby and Hen?”

“Okay,” says Marnie.

Hen and Bobby are in the waiting room when Buck and Marnie get back upstairs.

“His parents made it,” Bobby says. “Apparently traffic is still more of a nightmare than usual, after the crash last night.”

“One of those complicated cleanups, I guess,” says Hen.

“Still no sign of Tatiana?” Buck asks. Bobby had called Chim’s girlfriend at the same time as his other contacts, the Lees, but they hadn’t heard back from her and she hasn’t shown up.

“Not yet,” Hen says. “Now, who’s this little sweetheart?”

Marnie, usually a pretty social kid, tucks her face into Buck’s shoulder shyly.

“Hey, c’mon, Peanut,” Buck says, bouncing her a little. “Say hi. This is Bobby, he’s my captain at the fire station, and Hen, she’s a paramedic. Like the ones who helped you this morning!”

“Hi,” Marnie says.

“It’s been a rough morning,” says Buck. “I wish you hadn’t inherited my clumsiness, kiddo.”

Marnie giggles.

Bobby is watching them with something Buck can’t identify in his expression.

“Anyway, Bobby, Hen – this is Marnie Maddie Buckley,” Buck says. He kisses the side of Marnie’s head, just above the ear. Her soft, wispy golden-blonde curls are escaping her little pigtails a bit. “Who, as you can see, is a human child and not a dog.”

Marnie taps Buck’s chest to get his attention. “Daddy.”

“Yeah, Peanut?”

“If I was an animal,” she says matter-of-factly, “I would be a frog, not a dog.”

Buck laughs. “Of course, my mistake.” He turns his gaze back to Hen and Bobby. “My apologies – Marnie Maddie Buckley, who is a human child and not a frog.”

“Hello, Marnie,” says Hen.

“Hi Hen,” Marnie says.

“You know,” Hen says, “I have a son who’s just a little older than you are, his name is Denny. We should get you two together for a playdate sometime, I bet you’d get along. He loves frogs.”

“I love frogs!” chirps Marnie. Hen grins.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Marnie,” Bobby finally says. He’s been watching, silent, that still difficult-to-read note in his expression.

Marnie waves to him, that open-close hand gesture that only little kids seem to use. “Hi, Bobby. My dad thinks you’re cool.”

“Excuse me,” Hen cuts in, after just long enough that it becomes abundantly clear that neither Bobby nor Buck know what to say to that. “Are you implying that your dad does not think that I’m cool?”

Marnie giggles. “I don’t know. But I think you’re cool, ‘cause you’re a girl firefighter and that’s way cooler than being a boy firefighter.”

“Oh, I think we’re going to be friends, Marnie Buckley,” Hen says. “Chim’s going to be so bummed he missed this.”

“Well, he’ll get to meet her soon,” Buck says firmly. Chimney is not going to die.

“Yes, he will,” Bobby agrees, just as firm.

And, for what it’s worth, he does. He pulls through the worst of it, and as soon as he’s up for it, Buck makes a point of bringing Marnie to meet him so that he can see that she exists and also a bit as a distraction from the fact that his girlfriend dumped him the instant things got real.

Chim is still out when the plane crashes. This is both good and bad; he’d be helpful, certainly, but Buck is also grateful that he’s spared this horror.

Buck ends up charged with carrying a little boy out as he thrashes and fights to get back to his mom, who Bobby is trying to unpin from between her chair and the one in front. The boy is older than Marnie, probably seven or eight, and he’s breaking Buck’s heart. He’s screaming for his mom, fighting as hard as he can with his little body to claw back to her.

He hands the boy off to the paramedics on the beach, having talked him down from his initial panic.

“Your mom’s in good hands with Bobby, okay?” Buck promises, the only promise he can make. “He’s gonna do everything he possibly can to get her out.”

And then he finds himself standing on the beach, staring back at the plane that Bobby still hasn’t evacuated. He must still be in there with the mom.

Buck wants Bobby to make it out of this. But almost as much, he finds himself thinking of the mom, of the way he’d feel if he were in an emergency like this with Marnie and how hard he’d want to fight to get back to her. He goes back into the plane.

Bobby is pissed off with him, but Buck’s never been great at following directions anyway, and together they get the mom free and back to her kid.

When Buck gets home, he scoops Marnie up and holds her for a very long time.

A few shifts later, and Bobby doesn’t show up. Bobby is never late. Hen and Buck stop by his apartment to check on him and find him passed out drunk in his lifeless, empty apartment. Even before he tells them what, it’s clear that something truly, heartbreakingly terrible happened to Bobby before he came to LA.

Buck and Hen do what they can to help, but most of that is just listening and trying to help hold him together.

In the midst of all this, Buck has started seeing someone. Or – not seeing someone, is perhaps more accurate. Abby, the dispatcher from the home invasion that got Buck his job back, had called to check in after he’d been interviewed when Devon died and they’ve been talking ever since. It’s been flirty and there’s definitely romantic potential there – and Abby is older, so him having a kid hasn’t been an immediate turn-off when it comes to an actual relationship – but Buck is hesitant to meet her in person. He likes her, he really likes her.

But in Buck’s life, liking someone – or, more accurately, someone liking him – has never survived falling into bed. And meeting someone he likes, especially in a date-like setting, has never ended without falling into bed.

So they’ve been talking on the phone. Buck, being twenty-six, is usually more of a texter, but Abby prefers phone calls and it’s kind of nice to actually hear her voice.

When they do meet, it’s not under great circumstances. Abby is the primary caretaker of her ill, aging mother, and her ill, aging mother has managed to slip out of their apartment. Abby had called him in a panic, and Buck had dropped Marnie off at Hen and Karen’s for an emergency playdate with Denny.

So that’s how Buck meets Abby, and also Abby’s mom’s home health aide, Carla, and also – eventually, thank goodness – Abby’s mom.

It’s a tense, stressful day, but Buck is glad that he can help.

It’s also the start of a shift in Buck’s relationship with Abby. It feels less hypothetical and more like a direction they’re really going, toward dating for real and having a place in each other’s real lives. It’s still far, far too soon to introduce Abby to Marnie, but when Buck finally asks Abby on a real date, for the first time ever he sits down to talk about the idea of dating with Marnie.

“Hey, Peanut, can you sit with me for a minute?”

Marnie, halfway between the kitchen and her bedroom with a sandwich cracker in her mouth and her favorite stuffed toy – a pangolin that Buck had gotten her for the sheer novelty of finding it, named Scales – tucked under her arm, pauses. “Yeah, okay.”

She crawls onto his lap on the couch. She’s rapidly approaching five years old, but she still feels so small when he holds her like this. Some of that is probably because Buck himself is quite tall, and there’s a reasonable chance that Marnie won’t be even as an adult. Her mother is pretty short, and all of the women in Buck’s family are pretty small, too.

“I want to talk to you about something,” says Buck.

“Okay?” says Marnie.

“Our family is just you and me,” Buck says.

“Yeah,” Marnie replies, drawn out and tilted up like a question.

“And no matter what else happens, it’ll always be you and me,” Buck says. “But I met someone recently who I really, really like, and I’m going to start going on dates with her.”

“Are you in love, Daddy?” Marnie asks, tilting her head.

“Not yet,” Buck says honestly. “It doesn’t quite work the same way as the movies in real life. Usually, you figure out you like each other and spend some time together, and then you fall in love.”

“Oh,” says Marnie. “But you like her?”

“I do,” says Buck. “Now, sometimes grown-ups will try going on dates and they won’t fall in love, or it doesn’t last forever. So I’m going to wait until we’re sure it’ll stick to introduce you, but I wanted you to know what’s going on.”

“Okay,” Marnie says after a moment of consideration. She pats Buck’s chest. “I hope you fall in love, Daddy.”

“Thanks, Peanut,” Buck says, pressing a kiss to the part in her hair, right between her two messy little buns. “I hope so, too.”

And he really, really thinks he might.

He arranges another playdate with Denny for the night of his first date with Abby, since the two kids had apparently gotten on like a house on fire.

It is – somewhat incidentally – a Valentine’s day date, and Hen and Karen insist that they’re cool with taking both kids for the night as long as Buck doesn’t mind returning the favor on a less hectic day for a date. They have a settled, established enough relationship that going out on a day like this is more trouble than it’s worth, and Buck honestly longs for a relationship as grounded and comfortable as theirs seems to be.

Buck thinks maybe he could get there with Abby. He really, really likes her, in a way he hasn’t really let himself feel before.

He invites Abby to Chim’s welcome back party, because the others have been curious about her and it’s as good a reason as any to get her to the firehouse. It’s strange to see her there, in the mix of all of the other people he’s started to let himself get close with and care about, but nice.

Hen gives him a funny look when he introduces her, but never explains. Chim, honestly, seems a little bit jealous. Bobby –

Bobby is difficult to read at the best of times, Buck has found. He’s a surprisingly closed book, despite the way he presents himself. Buck can relate, he supposes. But Bobby has another one of those odd expressions that Buck only ever seems to see directed at himself; not disappointed but something close to it, even with a smile on his face.

Anyway, Abby at the fire station goes pretty well, all things considered. And then Buck finds himself getting ready for his date at the station, too, with how his shifts shook out, which means that there are witnesses to his complete and utter inability to tie a fucking tie.

Bobby ends up helping. Sends Buck off with an affirmation and some advice and a warm feeling in his chest from being cared for in such a subtle, quiet way. Buck’s dad never bothered to teach him how to tie a tie, it probably never even occurred to him that he probably should.

(The older Buck gets, the further he gets into parenting the four-year-old at the center of the universe, the more aware he is that his parents were kind of shit.)

Bobby doesn’t judge him for not knowing, just shows him. Leaves him feeling mostly confident about tonight, and the future.

The date starts really strong. The restaurant is nice, Abby is gorgeous, and Buck is nervous but it’s good nervous. Excited nervous.

It is, for about ten minutes, the best date Buck has ever had in his life.

When he wakes up in the hospital later and the whole thing is explained to him, it still probably qualifies as the best date he’s ever had. Abby is with him for a while when he first wakes up, and she’s the one who tells him what happened and that she’d saved his life. It’s sweet and Buck appreciates her being here, but she can’t stay forever.

Buck is alone for a while, after Abby leaves for work. It’s actually a bit of a relief, because he didn’t want to be on his phone while she was here, but he also needs to apologize profusely to the Wilsons for not making it back to pick Marnie up last night.

He’s in the middle of drafting his emphatic, if winding, apology, when there’s a tap at the door.

Bobby is in the doorway. “Hey, kid, you up for visitors?”

“Yeah,” says Buck. “Sure, I’m not getting anywhere with this anyway.”

Bobby nods, but doesn’t actually immediately step into the room. Instead, he steps to one side, to let –

“Marnie?” Buck says, surprised.

She darts into the room and crawls up on the bed next to him. “Daddy!”

“Hey, gentle,” Bobby says, with the air of a reminder. Like they’d talked about it before they came here.

“You,” says Buck, looking from Marnie to Bobby and back, “you’re here?”

“Of course I’m here, Daddy,” Marnie says, that air of childhood certainty in her words. “Bobby says we’ve gotta make sure you’re not too bored here.”

“Oh, Bobby says,” Buck echoes. He’s staring up at Bobby, now. Marnie has Scales with her, and she’s busying herself with tucking him under Buck’s arm.

“Uh-huh,” Marnie says absently.

“I stopped by last night, naturally.” Bobby is Buck’s emergency contact right now, though he has Buck’s last known phone number for Maddie in case the worst happens. “But once I’d filled them in on your important details, I realized that Marnie would probably be expecting a pickup sooner than later, and I thought – Hen and Karen would have kept her for the night, but I thought she might be more comfortable at home, if you were out of commission.”

“So you – you took care of her?” Buck says, dumbfounded. He believes that Karen and Hen wouldn’t have begrudged him a medical emergency on his date, but to have Bobby go so far out of his way to make sure that Marnie was looked after, was comfortable and content, feels earthshattering. No one but Maddie has ever cared enough about him to go out of their way like this. “Without a second thought?”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, Buck –“

“No!” Buck blurts. “No, I – thank you. Thank you. We’ve been on our own so long, I – I’ve never had anybody else to fall back on. I – I really appreciate you doing that. You didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t, kid,” says Bobby. “But I knew I could help. It wasn’t any trouble to do it, and I would’ve done it even if it were. We look after our own.”

“Thanks,” Buck says again. “Hey, Peanut, did you have fun with Bobby?”

“Yeah!” chirps Marnie. “He made mac-and-cheese in the oven!”

“That’s pretty cool,” says Buck. “He’s a good cook, don’t you think?”

“Way better than you,” Marnie replies.

Bobby is visibly stifling a laugh as Buck says, “Hey, that’s not nice. I’m still learning!”

“But you’re a grownup,” says Marnie.

“I’ll tell you a secret, kiddo,” Bobby says, “you never stop learning new things. Even grownups.”

“If you say so,” Marnie says skeptically.

“Well, I do,” says Bobby. “Alright, kiddo, you keep an eye on your dad, and I’m going to go see when we’ll be able to break him out of this place.”

“Okay!” says Marnie.

All told, Buck is only out of work for a handful of days after almost choking to death on his first date with Abby, which feels very lucky. He’s back just in time for the full moon, which is a wild, wild shift. He rescues a kid right around Marnie’s age from one of those big claw machines, pulls a tapeworm out of a guy’s butt, and is present but not as helpful as he’d like to have been for like three different ladies giving birth at a nighttime pregnant yoga class. Buck would’ve assumed the full moon thing was just a superstition, but he’s definitely having a weird enough day to believe it.

A few days later, late in the night on a much more normal shift, Buck comes up into the station loft to find Hen with her head in her hands on the couch.

“You okay?” he asks tentatively. He doesn’t join her immediately, puttering his way through the process of making himself some hot chocolate like he’d originally come up for.

“You’re a single dad,” Hen says, which doesn’t really follow.

“That’s right,” Buck says.

“What’s the custody situation with Marnie, if you don’t mind me asking?” says Hen.

Buck sighs, sitting on the chair nearest Hen and pulling his knee to his chest. “Just me, sole custody. Her mom and I weren’t in a relationship – hell, we were barely even friendly by the end – and she’d made it clear to me from the day she told me she was pregnant that she didn’t want an abortion, but she didn’t want the baby, either. I don’t think I’ve seen her since the day Marnie was born.”

“I see,” says Hen.

“Is something up with Denny?” Buck guesses. “He’s adopted, right?”

“His biological mother is my ex,” Hen tells him quietly. “She’s just recently gotten out of prison on parole, and she’s suing us for custody.”

“Shit,” says Buck. “I wish I could help, or – or like, give you advice, but – frankly, if Olivia walked back into my life and wanted to be involved with Marnie at all, I have no idea what I’d do.”

“I guess the thought counts for something,” says Hen.

“Good luck,” Buck offers. Then, “Uh, do you want some hot chocolate, too?”

Hen lets out a soft, soft laugh. “Sure, Buck. I’d love some.”

There’s nothing Buck can really do for Hen besides have her back. There’s nothing Buck can do for Abby as things get harder with her mom but stick it out. He’s doing everything he can and it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Abby’s mom dies.

It is not a surprise, but that doesn’t make it any easier. Buck is trying to have Abby’s back as much as he can, helping her plan the funeral and get things organized and generally just being there for her to lean on. He was upfront with Marnie about the situation: his girlfriend’s mom died, and he’s trying to take care of her as much as possible.

Marnie is four-going-on-five, so her concept of mortality is still developing, but she understands enough. She can wrap her head around it at least a little bit, at least enough to understand that Abby is very sad and needs a little bit of extra help around the house for a while. She’s content to play with Denny – whose moms are glad for the distraction for him as they sort through their own complicated life – or, increasingly, to spend time with Bobby while Buck is with Abby, trying to help.

And then Abby decides she needs to leave. To go on the trip she and her mom never took, nominally, but also to find herself. It’s an open-ended, vague thing, and Buck knows what that means.

She’s leaving, and she won’t be coming back.

Abby never says as much, in fact goes so far as to imply repeatedly that she will come back to LA and to him, but Buck has been left behind before, and he knows how this ends.

He drives her to the airport, kisses her goodbye, and then gives himself fifteen minutes to cry in the cell phone lot.

“Are you okay, Daddy?” Marnie asks at bedtime that night, reaching up with the hand that isn’t curled around Scales to touch his cheek.

“Of course I’m okay, Peanut,” says Buck.

“You look sad,” she replies, quiet.

“Remember how, when I told you I was going to start going on dates, I said that sometimes grownup relationships don’t stick?” Buck asks. Marnie nods. “Well, you know that the friend I’d been spending time with just lost someone really important to her, and sometimes that makes people – makes them rethink what they want to do in their lives. So she decided to move away and go on an adventure, which is really exciting for her. But that means that she and I aren’t going to spend time together anymore.” He sighs. “So I guess I am a little sad. But you know what, Peanut?”

“What?” says Marnie.

“I liked Abby a lot,” Buck says. He thinks he may even have loved her, but he’s not about to explain that to his four-year-old. “But I’ve still got my family, and I don’t need anybody else in the world.”

“Do you want Scales tonight?” Marnie asks, slow and sleepy. “He always makes me feel better when I –“ she yawns, “I’m sad.”

Buck leans down to kiss Marnie’s forehead. “You hold onto him, Mar. I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

“Love you, Daddy,” Marnie yawns, softer still.

“I love you, too, Peanut,” Buck replies.

And he wasn’t lying to Marnie – the heartbreak of Abby leaving is a fresh wound, but it’s one that will heal eventually. And in the meantime, he’s got Marnie, and he’s even got something of a family at the 118, and the future is still looking bright.

Chapter Text

In July, the four-year-old at the center of Buck’s universe turns five.

Buck hosts a birthday party for her at their local pool, with a few of her school friends and Denny Wilson, who she’s still good friends with despite the gap in their ages. Bobby, Chimney, Hen, and Karen come, too, at least as much for Buck as for Marnie. He even invites the Grants, who he doesn’t know well besides Athena, but are sort of part of the family anyway. Athena’s oldest is ten years older than Marnie, but seems to be happy to have some pool time and even play with the little kids a bit, and her youngest is a little older than Denny, which means he’s got someone to play with when Marnie is distracted by the other kids.

(Her recently-ex husband couldn’t make it, but had sent along a second, small gift for Marnie anyway.)

“Hey,” Buck says, “thank you guys for coming. Marnie has friends, obviously –“ he gestures across the small herd of five-year-olds devouring their cake at the next table over –“but it’s been just the two of us for a really long time. This is the first time I’ve, uh, ever had any adult friends or family to help out for her birthday, you know?”

“Oh, Buck,” Hen says quietly.

“Well, you’ve certainly got family now,” Bobby says firmly.

“Good,” says Buck, “I’m – I’m glad.”

“Now, tell me, Buck,” Athena says with a serious, investigative look in her eye, “is it true that Hen and Chimney somehow didn’t know you had a kid for several months?”

Buck bursts out in bright, easy laughter, as Hen and Chim trip over themselves to make justifications.

“Why would we assume –“

“-never uses her first name –“

“Hen,” Karen says, giggling, “really?”

“I call her Peanut a lot,” Buck explains, “like, probably more than her actual name. Apparently, they both thought she was a puppy or something? Like, literally until the day I told you about her.”

“Henrietta,” Athena says, her tone teasing.

“How exactly were we supposed to know?” says Hen.

“Listen better to the stories I was telling,” Buck replies, then sticks his tongue out childishly.

“We know now!” says Chimney.

Everyone laughs, and Buck just feels so, so happy to have them here. It’s lucky that he’d found his way to firefighting when he did, and to the 118, and that this team has started to settle into a family in a way Buck could have only dreamed of before. And Athena – who he didn’t make the best early impression on, he knows – has been checking in on him when their paths cross more and more these last few months, so inviting her and her family too had been easy.

The only thing that could make today better would be Maddie. But Buck’s stopped holding out hope that he’ll hear from her, after the better part of a decade of separation. He keeps sending postcards and hoping, but the realistic part of him knows that he’s unlikely to ever see her again. He’s certainly never going back to Hershey, and as much as Buck wishes it weren’t so, she’s unlikely to ever leave.

“She seems like a good kid,” Athena says. She’s watching Marnie explain something to May, who’s listening surprisingly patiently, with an indulgent smile Buck has seen on her mother a few times on her face.

“Thanks,” Buck says. “Yours, too. I mean – older kids aren’t always as patient with little ones as May and Harry have been today, and, well. A lot of people aren’t as patient with Marnie specifically as I’d wish.”

“She’s a sweetheart,” says Athena. “You said it’s just the two of you?”

Buck nods. “Yeah, her mom has never been in the picture.”

“No other family in LA, though?” Athena says. “That must’ve been difficult.”

“I think my parents being close by would be harder, actually,” says Buck. He tilts his head, considering. “Or, I don’t know, maybe it would be exactly the same. We haven’t spoken since I was nineteen; they don’t even know Marnie exists. My sister, though – God, I wish Maddie could meet her.”

Athena hums sadly. “Is she younger, then? Still with your parents?”

“No, she’s older, she’s – she’s got this piece of shit husband,” Buck says, shaking his head. “She knows where we are, though, and I’ve got a pull-out couch for her just in case, but, uh – I haven’t heard from her in a long time, either. And she actually loved me.”

Athena’s got a look on her face similar to the one Buck sees from Bobby sometimes, a little sad but almost surprised by it, maybe disappointed but not quite directly with him.

“Buck, honey –“

“Daddy!” Marnie calls. “Can I have another slice of cake?”

“Just a little one,” Buck replies. It’s her birthday. “Ask May to help you.”

“Thanks!” says Marnie.

“Sorry,” Buck says to Athena. “What were you saying?”

“Just that I hope you see her again soon,” Athena says. Buck isn’t quite sure he believes her, but he doesn’t know why she’d lie.

The rest of the party goes off without a hitch, and the 118 stay all the way until the last classmate has been picked up to help him clean up the party area. It’s strange, after so much of his life, to finally understand what it’s like to have more than one person actually care about you.

“Daddy?” Marnie says as he checks her car seat buckles. She looks completely wiped out, happily exhausted.

“Yeah, Peanut?”

“This was the best birthday ever,” says Marnie.

Buck presses a kiss to her forehead. “Good. That means I did my job.”

“I’m glad we’ve got a family now,” Marnie says, softer.

“Oh, Peanut,” Buck says, “me, too.”

--

Buck isn’t sure when or how, but he’s pretty sure that he and Marnie have been adopted by the Grants.

Marnie’s birthday was the first time Buck met anyone from Athena’s family besides Athena herself, but ever since he and Marnie have been invited periodically for dinner, and Athena has developed a tendency to appear at the station with little just-because gifts for Marnie.

(Buck has a slow-growing theory about the other reason she’s been showing up at the station so much more, but if Athena and Bobby don’t want to talk about that yet, Buck isn’t going to be the one to bring it up.)

May and Harry are both really sweet with Marnie, patient and indulgent in a way that reminds Buck of the way Maddie was with him as a kid. Marnie’s age gap with May is only a year wider than Buck’s with Maddie. And Michael – Athena’s newly-ex husband and still good friend – has accepted their continual presence with genuine enthusiasm and interest in getting to know both Buck and Marnie.

Buck isn’t sure what Athena’s told her family about their chat at Marnie’s birthday, but they’re an unstoppable force when they’re working together on something and apparently what they’re working on now is making sure Buck and Marnie have family here in LA.

Buck himself occupies a strange position within the dynamic, though. He’d met the Grants as an adult, and Athena and Michael treat him like one, but he’s also only twelve years older than May, closer in age to her and Harry than he is to their parents. In fact – Buck doesn’t know exactly how old Athena or Michael are, but he knows them well enough now to know they’re close to the same distance from him as he is from Marnie.

He's stopped trying to fit it into any preconceived shape. The Grants have, repeatedly, insisted that they want Buck and Marnie around, and he’s going to embrace that while he can.

In early September, after a car whizzed by him at a crash scene missing him by literal inches, Buck finds himself at Athena’s dining table in the middle of the afternoon. He’s holding a cup of tea more to hold than to drink, because he’d shown up on her doorstep visibly shaken.

Bobby had called after Buck as he buzzed out the door after their shift, and Buck knows talking to him might’ve helped, too, but Bobby had said earlier that he had to run after shift for some meeting, and Buck doesn’t want to make him late. So he’d darted out and shown up at Athena’s front door and hoped she’d be home.

“You gonna tell me what’s the matter sometime today, Buck?” Athena says. It’s surprisingly gentle for how firm a prompt it is.

“I almost got hit by a car,” Buck tells her. He’s tapping the sides of his mug with his fingertips. “I almost got hit by a car and I realized – I realized – the idea of me, you know, dying? It’s been kind of abstract since Marnie was born. I stopped, uh, taking as many risks as I used to, you know? And then, I – yesterday. I almost got hit by a car and it hit me, it hit me that, uh, if I died tomorrow, Maddie would get the call to take Marnie, or maybe my parents, and I - fuck, Maddie would be great with her, but I don’t want her in the same house as Doug, and my parents –“

“Buck,” Athena cuts in, sharp. “Breathe, honey.”

Buck does. It’s hard not to listen when Athena Grant tells you to do something. “I want Marnie to grow up loved, even if something happens to me. And I don’t know if Maddie could give her that, right now. I know my parents couldn’t, and I – I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who else to ask, and I don’t want to risk her just going into foster care and just having to hope.”

“I could take her,” Athena offers.

Buck’s head snaps up, gaze meeting Athena’s. “What?”

“You’re worried about what would happen to her if you died on the job,” Athena says plainly. “And you should take that seriously. You’re a dedicated parent, and this is your first real brush with mortality since you started as a firefighter, right?”

“Yeah,” Buck breathes.

“So choose someone you trust, and make a plan,” says Athena. “I would take her, if that were something you wanted. Or Bobby, I’m sure. You just have to take a deep breath and ask. And then we’ll make a plan to make it official.”

“You would?” Buck can’t help asking.

“Oh, baby,” Athena says, softening, “of course I would.”

“Can we – can we figure out doing that?” says Buck.

“Definitely,” says Athena.

And so, with Athena’s help, a weight is lifted off of Buck’s shoulders.

Just in time for Bobby to – unintentionally – place a new one.

“Who the hell is that?” Buck asks, almost involuntary, watching some unbelievably hot guy pull his shirt on through the locker room wall.

“That,” Bobby says, “is Eddie Diaz. New recruit.”

Buck hates him. Buck hates him and his stupid, perfect hair and his stupid, perfect abs. Buck hates him, because he was just, just starting to feel confident that he wasn’t going to be replaced.

“What do we need him for?”

And then, of course, Eddie is amazing at his job. He’s a former Army medic, so he’s better at assisting with the medical stuff than Buck is, and he’s also smooth and confident dealing with patients and rescues, and Buck wants to die.

And he’s got opinions on selfie lighting.

Buck knows he’s being dramatic. He knows. But it’s really, really hard not to look at this guy and see everything Buck isn’t – he’s put together, he’s confident, he’s hot as all fuck. And, like, Buck’s good looking, but it’s certainly a blow to the ego to stand next to a guy like that.

So he’s been borderline rude to Eddie all day, which he knows is unprofessional, but he can’t stop himself. He’s been impatient with Hen and Chim – especially after Chim apparently told Eddie about Abby dumping him for some reason? So not necessary, man. And he’s been snippy with Bobby, too, because Bobby was the one to bring Eddie in.

He knows, he knows, he knows that Bobby isn’t trying to replace him. Bobby cares about him and has repeatedly emphasized that Buck has a long-term place here, and keeps insisting that he’d brought Eddie on for Buck, as a potentially permanent partner after months and months of bad fits, but it’s still hard to swallow. Buck’s been dropped for shiner, newer models before.

Bobby asks him to help with dinner, a peace offering. Buck agrees, but refuses to talk about it. He’s not ready to own how insecure he’s feeling right now.

Bobby seems to accept that for what it is, and doesn’t push.

Buck sits in his car for ten minutes at the end of his shift, unwilling to bring this home to Marnie. He sees Hen shoot him a sympathetic look as she walks to her car. Sees Eddie shoot him a confused one.

That adds an extra minute.

Buck sits, methodically running his thumb up and down the textured side of his cell phone case, until he feels a bit more like a normal, rational adult again, and then he drives home to his sweet, oblivious five-year-old.

They’re about to sit down to dinner, when the doorbell rings.

Probably a neighbor who’s locked themself out, Buck thinks as he goes to the buzzer.

“Who is it?”

“Evan? It’s Maddie.”

“What?” Buck says, startled.

“It’s your sister, Maddie,” that voice – familiar even through the crackle of the doorbell system – says again.

“I’ll buzz you in,” Buck says.

“Who’s at the door, Daddy?” Marnie says, trailing out from the dining room.

Buck scoops her up, feeling a little dazed. “I think it’s your Aunt Maddie.”

Sure enough, when there’s a tentative tap on their actual front door two minutes later, he opens it to reveal his big sister, exactly as he remembers her, if a bit older. More tired.

Marnie squeals in excitement. “Aunt Maddie!”

She’s seen Buck’s small handful of pictures of Maddie all her life, heard hundreds of little stories and anecdotes. He’s pretty sure Maddie is almost as much Marnie’s hero as she is Buck’s.

“I – hi,” Maddie says, clearly a little thrown.

“Maddie,” Buck says, “hey. Come inside.”

Maddie does, dragging a single small suitcase behind her which she leaves just inside the door.

“Peanut,” Buck says seriously, “can I put you down so I can give your Aunt Maddie a really, really big hug?”

“Okay,” Marnie says. She looks a little starstruck.

Buck sets her gently on the ground and turns to his sister. “Maddie?”

She opens her arms and Buck falls into them, curling in like he’s still smaller than her. He squeezes her tight, tight, tight, and then lets go. Steps back.

“Peanut,” Buck says. He puts a hand on her little, tiny shoulder, drawing her closer. “This is your Aunt Maddie.”

“Hi,” Marnie says, a little shyly.

“Mads, meet Marnie Maddie Buckley,” Buck says.

“Oh,” Maddie breathes.

Buck isn’t sure what she’s thinking right now. She seems a little surprised, startled even, by Marnie, which Buck isn’t certain how to place. He’s been mentioning her consistently in his postcards since she was born, and if Maddie has their address, then she’s definitely aware of Marnie’s existence. And there’s no chance that Maddie thought Marnie was a dog.

“Oh, she’s so big,” says Maddie.

“I’m five years old!” Marnie says, holding up five fingers.

“Five?” Maddie echoes, wiggling five open fingers back.

“My birthday was in July!” chirps Marnie.

“Wow,” Maddie says. She crouches down to Marnie’s level, opening her arms again. “It’s so nice to meet you, Marnie. We share a name.”

“We do!” says Marnie. “Daddy says you’re my namesake.”

“That’s right,” says Maddie. “Can I have a hug?”

Marnie darts forward, throwing her arms around Maddie’s neck. “Hi, Aunt Maddie.”

“Hey, uh,” Buck says, “are you hungry? We were just sitting down for dinner, there’s plenty.”

“Daddy made mac-and-cheese,” Marnie tells Maddie. “In the oven! Like Bobby makes it!”

“Oh, like Bobby makes it?” Maddie echoes. She meets Buck’s eye over Marnie’s head and mouths Who’s Bobby?

Buck laughs. My fire captain, he mouths back. Great cook.

Maddie laughs, too.

“Yeah,” Marnie says, oblivious. “Daddy’s not as good at it as Bobby yet but he’s way better than he used to be, so it’s pretty yummy.”

“Wow, way to throw me under the bus, kid,” Buck says, trailing behind Marnie as she scurries back down the hall.

“She said you’re getting better,” Maddie says.

“Which is code for you used to be bad,” Buck points out.

Dinner is fun. Joyful.

They talk about nothing of real, actual importance in front of Marnie – not why Maddie is here or where her piece of shit husband is, not what Buck has been up to or how fucking lonely he’s been – which makes it easy, too. Maddie asks questions about kindergarten which Marnie happily answers, which morphs easily into her usual bright, delightful chatter about life and the world.

Marnie tells Maddie about their life in a roundabout sort of way. She doesn’t know what Maddie does or doesn’t know about it, so she blows past explaining certain things, like who anyone in her stories is, and overexplains things like the layout of her favorite playground. Maddie listens with a patience and attentiveness Buck remembers fondly from his own childhood, a familiar indulgent smile on her face.

Marnie insists that Maddie be the one to read her bedtime story, when the time comes.

And then, before Buck really knows it, he finds himself perched across his couch from Maddie, the five-year-old at the center of the universe fast asleep.

“Why are you here?” Buck says, instead of why haven’t I heard from you in eight years.

“Can’t I visit my baby brother and his baby?” Maddie replies, with an air of put-on casualness. “God, I can’t believe she’s five. It feels like yesterday I got the card telling me she’d been born.”

Time flies when you’re in another state, Buck doesn’t say, because it’s unkind and unnecessary. Maddie is here now and he’s not about to make her feel bad for it, even if he’s spent most of the last five years and beyond desperately, achingly lonely.

“She’s taller every time I blink,” Buck says instead.

“You were the same,” says Maddie, fond.

“Where’s Doug, Maddie?” Buck asks. He hates to push, but he really needs to know the situation here.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Maddie tells him.

“You finally left him?”

“I – yes,” she says, and the whole story unfurls from there.

Doug was abusive, physically and emotionally, and Buck had a feeling something was wrong before he left but he’d always hoped if it were really that bad that Maddie would’ve told him. That she would’ve said yes when he asked her to run away. She tells him about why she’d stayed so long – about the denial, and then the shame, and then the fear – before insisting that despite coming all this way, she doesn’t plan to stay.

Buck doesn’t know what to do but hold her, and remind her that there’s a permanent home for her here if she wants it. They’ll find her a job where she can feel safe, hidden enough, and there’s been a bed for her at Buck’s place as long as he’s had furniture.

(The pull-out couch was the first really nice piece of furniture Buck got, since a shitty pull-out couch is worse than just sleeping on couch cushions, and Buck had wanted Maddie to be comfortable.)

“Or you can share with me like when we were kids,” Buck offers.

Maddie smiles, soft. “Yeah, we can do that for tonight.”

--

Eddie’s second shift is better than the first right from the start.

The one and only reason for this is that Buck rolls in in a visibly better mood from the start, bounding into the station with a grin on his face without even shooting a single glare in Eddie’s direction. Several hours in, it’s clear that he’s still not really thrilled with Eddie’s presence, but whatever happened on their day off has him in a good enough mood that he’s not actively picking fights anymore, which Eddie is grateful for.

Bobby had told Eddie up front that he’d wanted him to partner a specific firefighter at his station, that he thought Buck and Eddie would get along well and could be a really, really good fit. Eddie is currently doubting that, given how badly Buck responded to his presence, but he’s trusting the process.

Bobby had a familiar look in his eye when he was talking about Buck. Eddie is a parent himself, he’s familiar with the urge to do anything and everything to make life easier for your kids. He doesn’t know what Bobby and Buck’s actual relationship is – he’s almost certain that they aren’t biological father and son, if only because that seems complicated from an HR position, since there are lots of reasons they may not share a name – but he can see that Bobby cares about Buck in a way that reads as distinctly parental. He wouldn’t have paired them if he didn’t genuinely believe that it would be good for Buck.

Eddie is getting along well with the rest of their team, and even Buck is less standoffish than last shift, so he’s prepared to believe that it will keep getting better from here.

By the time they’re standing outside of the ambulance currently housing a man with a live grenade in his leg, Buck seems to have almost forgotten he was pissed off with Eddie in the first place. He certainly doesn’t seem to hesitate to volunteer to go back in at Eddie’s side, to risk his life on Eddie’s ability to get this done quickly and safely.

“You’re a badass under pressure,” Eddie says to him, after.

“Really?” Buck says, looking almost startled.

“Hell yeah,” says Eddie. “You can have my back any day.”

“Or, uh,” Buck replies, smiling almost bashfully, “or you could have mine.”

Then the ambulance explodes. Whoops.

Something shifts between them after that. Buck had come into this shift distinctly less argumentative and aggressive than he’d left the last one, but now he’s bright and friendly and enthusiastic, much closer to the version of him that everyone spent all of last shift insisting exists under the prickly exterior. The bounce that’s been in his step all day doesn’t go away when he’s walking next to Eddie anymore. If anything, he’s bouncier.

The next morning, they’re sitting down to eat when they’re joined by someone Eddie has been in passing introduced to as Sergeant Athena Grant, who greets the team with fond familiarity and Bobby with a kiss that makes the whole station burst into excited conversation. Apparently, this is how they’re announcing their relationship to the world. Good for them, honestly.

Buck doesn’t participate in the teasing or the money trading hands, just watches both of them with a pleased, if not particularly surprised, expression. Athena turns her attention to him after she finishes bickering lightly with Hen over her betting pool winnings.

“And you!” Athena says, one hand falling onto Buck’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me your sister’s in town?”

That must explain Buck’s better mood this shift.

“Which little birdy snitched on me?” Buck says, grinning.

“Does it matter, Buckley?” Athena replies. She leans some of her weight onto the hand on his shoulder. “You should’ve told me.”

“I was gonna!” protests Buck. “C’mon, ‘Thena, I was gonna! I was going to bring her to dinner tomorrow. I thought you’d like that.”

“All that fussing,” says Athena. “All that wondering, all those hours spent at my dining room table worrying, and you didn’t even text me when she showed up at your door.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m a terrible –“ Buck pauses awkwardly, like he doesn’t actually know what the end of that sentence is supposed to be, or maybe like the instinctive end of the sentence is something he can’t or shouldn’t say. “- friend. I was literally waiting to introduce you to her in person, ‘Thena, I swear.”

And now Eddie’s wondering what that last word would’ve been. He’s mostly just watching all of this happen, a telling glimpse into who his new coworkers are when they’re not trying to make an impression – good or bad – on someone new. There are so many layers to the relationships in this station, on this team, and Eddie is still learning them, still has miles to go before really understanding where he’ll fit in all of it. And, frankly, Buck’s place here is fascinating.

It's clear he’s been the baby of the team for a while; his friendship with Hen and Chimney has a different tone than their friendship with each other, both of them occasionally watching him with concern out of the corner of their eyes and curbing the sharper edges of their teasing as soon as they see any of the light in his eyes flicker. Bobby, Eddie had already noticed, looks at him with an obviously paternal gaze. All of them spent Eddie’s first shift assuring him, repeatedly, that Buck wasn’t usually like this, that he’ll warm up to Eddie, that he’s a good guy, really. It’s a funny thing, for a guy who seemed so insecure of his place to be the guy everyone is trying to look out for.

And now Athena, too, has a parental look in her eye as she needles Buck about his sister. There’s a very real, focused worry but also fond pride under her light, playful tone.

“I can’t wait to meet her, kid,” Athena says.

“You’re going to love her, Athena,” Buck says, quiet.

“Of course I am,” says Athena. “She raised you.”

And isn’t that a hell of a thing to learn about somebody three days after you’ve met. Eddie wishes any other conversation were happening right now so that he could pay less attention to this one, since it feels more personal than Buck would probably like his random new coworker he’s just now started to get along with listening to.

“Hey, you know people at Dispatch, right?” Buck says. “I really, uh, don’t, but I think it might be a good fit for Maddie; I’m trying to get her to stick around.”

“I can make some calls,” Athena replies.

“You’re the best,” says Buck. And then, through some train of thought Eddie isn’t prepared to follow, he says, “Oh! Have you met Eddie yet?”

Athena looks down at Buck with a fond sort of amusement. “Just in passing, the other day while you were still pitching your hissy fit.”

“I wasn’t –“

“It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, though,” Athena says to Eddie, over Buck’s protests.

“You as well,” Eddie replies. He nudges Buck’s knee with his own under the table. “You were, Buck. You used the exact phrase when you apologized.”

“In confidence,” Buck says, scandalized.

Eddie laughs. “How was I supposed to know that, man? You broadcast the rest of it to the whole world.”

“Betrayal,” Buck says, but he’s grinning so broadly it probably hurts. Eddie grins back.

He feels younger than he has in years, with Buck. He brings out the side of him that wants to be playful and tease and joke – differently to the way he’s playful with Chris, because even when he’s being playful with Chris, he still has to be the adult. Even when Buck was being a dick, he drew out a younger feeling Eddie as he couldn’t help to poke the bear a little bit. And – though it’s difficult to be sure – he thinks he brings out a similar side of Buck.

It keeps feeling that way as they get to know each other better. Working with Buck is easy in a way Eddie has never really experienced before, the two of them falling into comfortable sync more and more. Eddie still doesn’t know much about Buck’s personal life, besides what Chim had shared that first day about the recent ex who fucked off to parts unknown without actually, technically, breaking up with him, but Buck doesn’t really know much about Eddie’s personal life either, yet. There’s time.

Two weeks in, LA is shaken by Eddie’s very first earthquake. Naturally, it’s the worst one the city has seen in years.

Chris is at school, and Eddie can’t get in touch with anyone – not the school, to make sure he’s alright, not his tía or his abuela to make sure someone can pick him up – because cell towers seem to have largely been taken out by the quake. He’s starting to get stressed.

“Texts won’t even go through,” he says, more to himself than to anyone else in the cab.

Buck nudges him anyway. “Who are you trying to reach?”

Eddie takes a deep breath, looking up from his pointless, useless phone at his partner. “My son.”

“You have a kid?” Buck says, “I love kids!”

Eddie opens his photos app to a recent snap of Chris grinning up at the camera mid-craft and passes the phone across to Buck.

“Christopher,” says Eddie. “He’s seven.”

“And adorable,” says Buck. He hands Eddie back his phone, before digging his own out of his pocket. “Mine’s five, just started kindergarten. Marnie Maddie.”

And before Eddie even has time to be surprised, he’s turning his phone around to show him a little girl with golden blonde curls spilling out of careful braids, a reflection of Buck’s bright smile on her face.

“She looks just like you,” Eddie says, almost involuntary.

“It’s crazier in person,” Chim says, leaning in toward them a bit. “She sounds just like him, too.”

Buck smiles, a little soft around the edges. “Well, she’s never had anybody else to imitate ‘till I met you guys, so I s’pose that tracks.”

“It’s just me and Chris, too,” Eddie says, quieter. A tension he hadn’t realized was building has released all at once.

“Hey – hey,” says Buck. He’s all serious now, his soft little smile disappearing. “I know it’s scary to think about, but Chris is at school, right? It’s a – a Tuesday. Peanut’s at school, Hen – Hen, Denny is at school, isn’t he?”

“He is,” Hen says, faintly amused.

“Right,” says Buck. He pauses, looking at Eddie expectantly.

“Chris is at school,” Eddie says after a beat, when he’s realized what Buck is waiting for.

“Okay! Good!” says Buck. “Because that’s, like, pretty much the safest place he could possibly be.”

And then he spends the entire rest of the drive downtown rattling off facts about earthquake safety and building code. It’s surprisingly soothing.

The quake call is anything but soothing. It’s hours of carefully climbing through a half-collapsed high-rise, of trying and failing to save a guy who’s an asshole but doesn’t deserve to die, of successfully rescuing two other people and losing who knows how many others they just don’t know about. They almost lose Hen, too, finding her and the little girl who’d been separated from her parents by pure, borderline unbelievable luck. Well – pure, borderline unbelievable luck and Hen’s iron-clad force of will.

It's an exhausting shift, and by the time they’re pulling back up to the station all Eddie can think about is taking the world’s fastest shower, and then getting home to his favorite kid in the world.

Only they step outside, and Eddie’s truck is blocked in by at least three other vehicles, more cars jammed into their parking lot than usual because of the natural disaster.

“Eddie!” Buck calls, before he’s even really started to formulate a plan. “You trapped?”

“Yeah,” says Eddie. He turns to face Buck, who’s across the lot next to his own car. “Fuck, I don’t know –“

“Grab Chris’s car seat, I’ll give you a ride,” Buck says.

“What?” Eddie says, stunned.

“He’s still at school, right?” says Buck. “So is Marnie, we can do a double-school pickup, and I’ll swing you home.”

“You are a lifesaver,” Eddie says a few minutes later as he wrestles Chris’s booster seat into the car. He’s only just grown out of his more involved car seat, and Eddie has a rare moment of gratefulness that Chris is growing so much, because moving that seat into another car is much more of a pain than switching the booster over.

“It’s no trouble,” says Buck. He passes his phone to Eddie. “Could you put in the address of Chris’s school? Marnie’s is pretty close to home for us, so I figure we should probably stop at his first.”

Eddie does, and when he hands the phone back to Buck to plug in he lights up.

“Oh! That’s Peanut’s school!” he says. “Easy-peasy. Let’s go get our kids.”

“So, Marnie is in kindergarten, you said?” Eddie says after a while.

“Yeah,” says Buck. “Probably one of the youngest in her class, she only turned five in July.”

“Christopher is old for his class,” Eddie replies. “His birthday was last week.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us you have a kid,” Buck says, shaking his head. “Especially if his birthday just passed! Did you even have anybody to celebrate with?”

“We kept it low-key,” says Eddie. He’s grateful to be having this conversation in the car, where he doesn’t have to make eye contact with Buck. “Just the family.”

“Well, next year the family will be bigger,” Buck says, like it’s that easy.

“You know, I didn’t know you had a kid, either,” Eddie points out.

Buck flushes. “If I had a nickel.”

“What?”

“If I had a nickel for every time my coworker didn’t realize I have a kid even though I talk about her constantly, I’d have two nickels,” Buck says, his cheeks pink. “Which isn’t a lot but it’s really weird it’s happened twice.”

“That’s not how the idiom goes,” says Eddie.

Buck glances over at him. “It’s, uh – is Chris not into Phineas and Ferb? Man, that’s such a bummer for you.”

“I don’t follow,” Eddie says.

“The joke,” says Buck. “That’s not a lot, but it’s weird it happened twice? That’s from Phineas and Ferb. It’s Disney channel, super cute.”

“I’m familiar with the show,” says Eddie. “Just less familiar than you, apparently.”

“It’s Marnie’s favorite,” Buck says, shrugging. “Fortunately, it ran for eight years and has about a million episodes, so I feel like I came out ahead as far as things for my kid to want to watch endlessly.”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, we went through a Chicken Little phase? My parents had it on DVD, which is the only reason Chris even learned it existed, and then it was the soundtrack to everyone’s life for a while.”

“Are you close with your parents?” Buck asks.

“Yes,” Eddie says automatically, because they’ve been so heavily involved in his life until he wriggled out and moved to California. “Well – no.”

Buck nods, like this makes sense to him.

“Are you?” Eddie asks. He’s fishing, a little, for what Buck and Bobby’s (and Athena’s?) deal is.

“No,” Buck says, and then, a mischievous little smile curving over his face, “well – yes.”

Eddie laughs. “I s’pose I deserve that.”

“I haven’t spoken to my parents since I was nineteen,” Buck says. “But sometimes I talk to Bobby or Athena and I’m like, this is what it would’ve been like to have parents who liked me, you know? They care what happens to me and they give me shit when I pull stupid stunts and they love my daughter, too.”

“I’m glad you found that,” Eddie says. His heart aches a little, but he can relate. He’s not sure he knows what it’s like to have parents who like him either. At least he’s reasonably certain that his parents at least love him, which he could be wrong about but gets a feeling Buck’s… maybe didn’t.

“Me too,” Buck says. “And I’m trying to be better than my parents were for me every day with Marnie.”

“Same,” says Eddie.

They arrive at the kids’ school then, and they both basically explode out of the car as soon as Buck has it in park.

A few teachers are still hanging out, and Christopher and Marnie are somehow not the last kids to be picked up. Eddie scoops his son up in the biggest, tightest hug he’s maybe ever given him, the stress of today really melting out of him at the chance to finally hold his baby. Next to them, Buck has a child who could only ever be his daughter perched on his hip, their matching heads of golden curls together as she narrates her day at top speed.

Eddie isn’t really listening until he catches “- new friend, Christopher!”

He sets Chris back on his feet, turning to look at Buck and Marnie.

“Oh, your new friend, Christopher?” Buck repeats, bouncing her on his hip. He gestures toward the Diazes. “Is this your new friend Christopher, Peanut?”

“It is!” says Marnie.

“Hi, Marnie’s dad,” Chris says politely. He’s leaning into Eddie, a little clingy after a longer-than-usual day. Eddie is feeling a little clingy, too.

Marnie gasps, her eyes falling on Eddie for the first time. She doesn’t have the same insanely blue eyes as her father, but her clear amber brown is almost as striking. “Are you Christopher’s dad?”

“I am,” says Eddie. “Do you know who else I am?”

“No,” says Marnie.

“I am your dad’s partner at work,” Eddie tells her.

“Oh!” Marnie says. “You’re Eddie! Daddy, Eddie is Christopher’s dad!”

Buck laughs. “He sure is.”

“Are you Buck?” Chris asks. Eddie would be embarrassed to have talked so much about Buck at home if it weren’t clear Buck has been doing the same thing.

“That’s me,” Buck says, giving Chris a little wave with the hand that isn’t supporting Marnie.

“Hey, kids, you should get your stuff,” Eddie says. “Our car’s blocked in, so Buck and Marnie are giving us a ride home. We’ve got plenty more time to get to know each other.”

“Really?” Chris says, eyes wide.

“Really really,” says Eddie. “Where’s your backpack?”

They get the kids into the car with practiced ease – even despite the slightly different height of Buck’s car to Eddie’s – and spend the entire ride home getting a play-by-play of the kids’ day. Some of it has to be repetition for Buck, since Eddie is almost certain that Marnie had been doing the same thing when he first scooped her up, but he’s listening intently and asking good, leading questions to keep the kids talking.

Chris is disappointed when they get home, when his and Marnie’s little adventure together finally comes to a close.

“We’ll get together soon,” Eddie promises. It’s an easy promise to make, since Buck is quickly becoming one of the best friends he’s ever had, and Christopher and Marnie seem to get on like a house on fire.

“Are you guys zoo members?” Buck asks. “If they’re open, we can go this weekend?”

“We’re not, but we probably should be,” says Eddie. “Little guy loves the zoo, yeah, Chris?”

“Yeah!” Christopher replies.

“Alright, say bye, Chris,” Eddie prompts. “We’ll see y’all soon.”

“Bye,” Chris echoes. Marnie waves back, a somehow more unrestrained reflection of her father’s enthusiasm.

“Text me when you want to swing back to the station for your car,” Buck says before Eddie can shut the door.

“Will do.”

--

Buck loves the zoo.

He loves learning new things, he loves watching the animals, he loves trying to understand the way things are designed, but most of all he loves the way Marnie absolutely lights up when they’re there. He’s been taking her for her entire life, and the shine doesn’t seem to have worn off yet. They brought Maddie, right after she got to LA but before Buck had fully talked her into the dispatch job, and she’d spent the whole time laughing at how alike Buck and Marnie are.

Today, they’re with the Diazes, the two kids walking side-by-side a few feet ahead of Buck and Eddie, talking in low, conspiratorial tones. Buck is grateful that they’re getting along well – better, indeed, than their dads had at first meeting. Chris is a little bit closer in age to Marnie than Denny Wilson is, but just barely. She remains, firmly, the baby of the family.

But they’re getting along, their adventure of a late night at school together a bonding experience rather than something upsetting.

“So who’s got Marnie while you’re working?” Eddie asks, clearly aiming for casual and falling just a bit short.

“Still figuring out childcare?” Buck guesses.

Eddie sighs. “Yeah. My aunt and my abuela help out where they can, but we’re still falling short. There’s all kinds of – of programs and grants and stuff to help get the kind of additional care he’d need, but there are so many hoops to jump through to make them work it’s making my head spin.”

“That sucks, man,” Buck says sympathetically. “Marnie has a nanny, and he’s great, but – but I bet it’s more complicated to find someone for a kid who needs a little more help.”

“Marnie’s nanny is a guy?” says Eddie, surprised out of his spiral.

Buck rubs the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, I was looking for someone I would have absolutely no interest in hooking up with, you know? I don’t want to cross that line. So I only interviewed guys and some very nice older ladies.”

“Huh,” says Eddie.

“I mean, I think I would’ve managed, because Marnie’s care is really important to me,” Buck says, unable to shut up while he’s ahead, “but at the time I was still making, uh, borderline self-destructive sex choices, so it’s for the best that I didn’t have the option.”

“Dude,” Eddie says, “what?”

“Yeah, that was, like, three months before I almost got fired for stealing the ladder truck for hookups,” Buck says. “Um, twice. Actually, uh, I did get fired. Just, also unfired. Don’t tell my sister.”

“I won’t,” Eddie says. He looks amused, but also – he’s got this almost sad look in his eye that Buck can’t help looking away from. He’s a disaster, he knows. He doesn’t need pity about it.

The subject drops, because Christopher waves them over to ask for help explain a sign he was reading out loud to Marnie - he's a pretty strong reader for his age and had sounded it out successfully, but didn’t know what it meant – and they don’t pick it back up. Buck keeps thinking about it, though.

Not his own shortcomings. He’s thought about that enough. But he’s thinking about Eddie’s childcare situation, wondering if there’s any way he can help. It doesn’t come, though, not until a few days later.

It’s a Friday, and they’re just wrapping up a call where a lot of people were entirely too drunk for eleven o’clock in the morning, when Eddie gets a phone call.

“I have to –“ Eddie says, borderline frantic, to Bobby, “I have to go. My abuela was watching Chris today and my aunt just called to tell me that they’re on their way to the hospital. I don’t know the exact situation, but I – I have to.”

Buck hadn’t even considered where Christopher would be today, with the kids off school for a teacher meetings day. He should’ve asked.

Bobby nods. “Of course. As soon as we’re back at the station, you’re free to go.”

“Thank you,” says Eddie.

Buck takes one look at the way Eddie’s hands are shaking, the nervous buzz through his whole frame, and turns to Bobby. “I need to go with Eddie.”

“Why?” Bobby says, tilting his head curiously. He doesn’t immediately say no, which Buck is counting as such a win.

Buck nods as subtly as he can toward Eddie, who is now waiting by the engine almost visibly vibrating with anxiety.

 “I see,” says Bobby.

“I don’t think he’s safe to drive right now,” Buck says, his voice low. “I know I wouldn’t be.”

“You can go,” says Bobby. “Keep me in the loop, I’m sure he’ll be too distracted.”

Eddie doesn’t even question it when Buck plucks the car keys out of his fingers. Doesn’t question it when Buck gets out of the car with him at the hospital or trails after him into emergency.

He seems almost startled, in fact, when his Tía Pepa asks who Buck is.

“This is Buck, he’s – we work together,” Eddie says, combing his fingers through his hair. He’s had a restless energy to him since he got the call that Buck has never seen on him before.

It was a startling reminder that they haven’t actually known each other that long.

(The other thought that occurs, while Buck is talking to Eddie’s tía, is that this is the second time this year that he’s met the family of someone he cares about in less-than-ideal circumstances. It’s this thought that will have Carla at the front of his mind later when Maddie points out that the people who understand navigating the healthcare system best are the ones who work inside it.)

“I thought you just dressed alike,” Pepa says. Her dry sarcasm reminds Buck immediately of Eddie, and he wonders if they’ve always been close.

It turns out that Christopher is fine, but Eddie’s abuela took a fall. Eddie looks pained at the idea that watching Chris is too much to ask of her, and Buck knows that it’s because it’s a thought Eddie had already been having, but Buck can’t help but think that it was probably lucky Chris was there to call 9-1-1. That’s an inside thought for now, though, because it’s not actually going to help Eddie feel any better about asking his family for help.

Well, Eddie’s family is larger now than it was a few weeks ago.

Pepa needs to stay at the hospital with her mother, so she can’t watch Christopher either. Buck steps out while she and Eddie are discussing the situation to make two phone calls: one to Bobby, to check whether it would be alright for them to just bring Chris back to the station at least for a little while, and another to Maddie, who has Marnie today, to see if she’d be alright with potentially watching Chris for a few hours, too.

He doesn’t want to make any promises to Eddie – although he gets the go-ahead from Bobby almost immediately – but he’s hoping he can help.

Maddie and Marnie aren’t immediately available to swing by and pick Chris up, because they’re in the middle of a project that Maddie will not explain to him and he’s hoping won’t end with their house being called to his own apartment, but she says that if Eddie is cool with it she’s willing to swing over for Chris a little later.

Christopher is a big hit at the firehouse, which is no surprise to Buck. He’s a smart, funny kid, and he’s also Eddie’s kid, which means that he’s family.

“Hey,” Buck says, while they watch Christopher and Chimney play pinball from across the loft, “I didn’t want to say it in front of Chris, in case you’re not comfortable with it, but Maddie said she can take him for the afternoon. She’s got Peanut today; they’re doing some crazy project today for cool aunt points.”

“You called your sister?” says Eddie.

“Yeah,” Buck replies. He can’t read Eddie’s tone. “I know you haven’t met her yet, but, uh, she’s great with Marnie, and she’s a nurse! So he’ll be in really safe hands, I promise.”

“You –“ Eddie says, his gaze a little distant, “you called your sister. You called Bobby and you called your sister.”

“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping,” Buck says, suddenly a little nervous. “But, like, I know what it’s like to feel like you’re on your own, doing everything you can and still drowning sometimes. So I just –“

“Buck!” Eddie cuts in, one hand falling onto his shoulder and squeezing tightly. “Buck, just – give me one second to process the fact that no one has ever done anything this thoughtful for me before so that I can thank you.”

“What?” says Buck.

“You’re a Godsend,” says Eddie. “Genuinely. Yes, of course Chris can hang out with Marnie and Maddie. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Oh,” Buck says. “I – of course. It was nothing.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, soft, “it was everything.”

Buck still doesn’t really think so, but he’s not going to argue with Eddie about it. This feels like – like the least he could do. His friend was struggling, so he made a few phone calls. He wasn’t even the one to take on actual additional childcare responsibilities, aside from hanging out with Christopher for the ninety minutes or so that he was hanging out at the 118!

His friend is struggling, so he makes another phone call, later. A comment of Maddie’s blending with his own thoughts about Abby from earlier, which leads to the obvious, obvious conclusion of introducing Eddie to Carla, who he hopes will be able to help Eddie find a solution to his troubles, instead of the bandaids Buck has been offering.

(When Carla leaves, Eddie throws his arms around Buck’s neck and hugs him. It’s the first time, despite how casually physical they are with each other.)

And he’s glad that that problem seems to – at least for the moment, at least as much as Buck can help – be solved, because things get a little weird after that.

They rescue Taylor Kelly, whose traffic reports Buck listens to regularly, which is cool! And then she wants to do a piece on their firehouse, which gets approved by higher ups but seems ethically complicated since she keeps following them on calls. Then they get drugged via thank you brownies, which is such a bummer because it means they have to stop eating the gratitude snacks.

And to top it all off, somewhere in the last few weeks, Buck’s big sister has absolutely started dating Chimney Han. What the fuck.

He’d introduced them because Chim had offered to help Maddie move into her new place, and he’d been glad that they hit it off because Maddie needs friends. Only now it seems like they’re more than friends, or at least they’re complicatedly entangled in a way that makes Buck feel – off.

He fucks Taylor Kelly in a bar bathroom, and afterward he feels even worse.

--

The thing is, despite moving to LA partially because it’s where Shannon ran to, Eddie hadn’t actually been planning on reaching out to her. Not any time in the immediate future, anyway.

But then the school he’s trying to get Chris into wanted to talk to her, and chasing her down was less trouble than owning up to the fact that they’ve been separated three years without speaking at all even to pursue a divorce. She wants to see Christopher, to be let back into his life, and Eddie is – afraid.

He is so, so afraid that he will let Shannon back into Christopher’s life and she won’t be able or willing to stay in it. He doesn’t want to make that kind of promise if he doesn’t know he can keep it. He’d be wary of bringing anyone into Christopher’s life in a significant, meaningful way, but his mother – his mother who has already run, left them in the middle of the night without saying goodbye?

And Eddie is afraid that he will get hurt, too, but it’s too late for him. He’s already let himself get pulled back into his old patterns with Shannon – they talk, which turns into fighting, which turns into sex, which turns into never solving any of their problems. He even tries to get her to climb out the window to avoid Christopher seeing her once, which is maybe a new low.

But wait! It can get worse!

Because Shannon shows up at his workplace during their Christmas toy drive to talk to him, because it’s “the only place we can do this without having sex instead of talking.” Which she does, in fact, say full voiced in front of all of Eddie’s closest coworkers. There is no pretending she did not say that. There is no pretending he didn’t deny it, just pulled her into their glass locker room and had a conversation no one could hear but everyone could see.

And they were watching.

“Well, that looked like it went well,” Chimney says, watching her leave.

“Oh, yeah,” says Eddie. “Just great.”

Buck gives him a look, curious bordering concerned, and Eddie shakes his head. He doesn’t want to do this here. He’s not against talking it through with Buck – Buck has the best understanding of the whole situation, anyway, and he’s also Eddie’s best friend – but he’s already had to have one conversation about this at work today and he’s not about to have another. But maybe another time.

They take the kids to see Santa together on the weekend.

Christopher is at an age where he always wants to do absolutely everything himself that Eddie can reasonably allow him to – and some things he can’t – so he and Marnie have insisted that they can wait in line for Santa by themselves. Chris and Marnie are close enough in age to be friends, but far enough apart that in situations like this Chris is definitely in charge. Two years is half a lifetime when you’re five, and sometimes Marnie looks at Chris like those two years are a decade and he’s got the answers to everything.

“I love how independent he is,” Buck says, pulling one of his knees up to his chest. Eddie is a little surprised he’s flexible enough for that, honestly. “He always wants to do everything for himself.”

“I want him to feel like he can,” says Eddie. “Anyway, Marnie’s pretty independent, too.”

“More, with Chris,” says Buck. “She’s – you wouldn’t know this, I guess, but she can be pretty shy. But she thinks Chris is pretty much the coolest kid in the world, so if he can go see Santa by himself, then she wants to, too. It’s good for her.”

“You’re kidding,” Eddie says. He’s almost certain he’s never seen Marnie back down from anything. Not that he’s known her long, but at this point he and Buck spend most of their time off together, especially when it aligns with the normal human weekend.

“No way,” Buck insists. “She’s a firecracker once you get to know her, obviously, but her teachers always say she’s slow to come out her shell. I think spending time with you guys has been good for her.” He rubs the back of his neck, a little awkward. “I mean, like father, like daughter, I s’pose.”

Eddie bumps his shoulder against Buck’s. “Y’all have been good for us, too.”

“You don’t have to say that, man,” says Buck.

“I know,” says Eddie. “Which is why you should believe it.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Buck replies.

They sit in silence for a moment as the kids take another step toward Santa, and Eddie waves to get their attention to take a photo.

“Hey, uh,” Buck says after a beat, “look, stop me if this is too – stop me, if you want, but, uh. Shannon.”

Eddie sighs. This was probably inevitable, right?

“Shannon,” he echoes.

“She sure did, uh, show up to the station and yell at you,” says Buck.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. And then, because it’s Buck, he lays the whole thing out. The way they’ve been fighting, the things he’s afraid of. Buck just sits there with him, perched on the edge of the fountain thirty feet from their kids, and listens.

And when he’s done, and finds himself looking at Buck expectantly, waiting for – for some nugget of advice or a thought that’ll clarify things for him.

“Look, man,” Buck says, “I can’t tell you what to do here. But I can tell you that whatever you do is going to be hard. Yeah, there’s a chance that you’ll let her back in and she’ll hurt him again. Hurt you again. But if you don’t try, you’re going to wonder forever, aren’t you? If it could’ve been good again?”

“I’m not sure it was ever actually good before,” Eddie admits, quiet.

“Well, you’ll never know if it could be good now,” Buck amends gently. “And I can’t tell you it will be. But what you’re doing right now? That’s the only wrong choice, I think.” He sighs, nudging Eddie again. “I’ve made my share of self-destructive decisions because it feels easier to self-destruct than to let someone else hurt you, but – but it’s not just you getting hurt. It’s Shannon, but more importantly, it’s Chris. And there’s a chance any choice you make will hurt, but if you stay in limbo, it’s a guarantee.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “I know.”

There’s another beat of silence.

Then –

“Hey, they’re up,” Buck says.

They stand to get pictures. The kids perch on either side of Santa, Marnie practically vibrating with excitement as Christopher points her to her spot. They’re too far away and speaking too softly for Eddie to hear what either of them ask for.

An elf walks them both to the exit, smiling indulgently at their excited chatter.

Eddie scoops Christopher up as soon as he’s close enough. “You ask for anything good, bud?”

“He said he’ll work on it,” Christopher replies.

“Can we get hot chocolate?” Marnie asks, starting to dart ahead.

“Mar!” Eddie calls, hiking Chris higher on his hip so he can follow. “Don’t run ahead!”

As they start to walk away, Eddie hears the elf who’d escorted the kids out stop Buck.

“Your kids are adorable,” she says.

It occurs to Eddie, all of a sudden, how much like a family they must look. Chris in his cute, Christmassy sweater vest, and Marnie in her red and green plaid dress, lining up together to meet Santa. Eddie and Buck, watching side-by-side from the fountain, greeting the kids as a unit.

And just for a moment – just a tiny fraction of a moment, really – Eddie lets himself imagine what that might be like if it were true. Christopher and Marnie as siblings, growing up side-by-side. Him and Buck, a seamless team at home the way they are at the station. They’d be good at it, Eddie thinks in that fraction of a moment. They’d be better at it than Eddie ever has been with Shannon.

He shakes it off. It’s a crazy fantasy, brought on by an easy mistake and his current marital problems, nothing more.

“Oh,” Buck says to the elf, “uh, thanks!”

And then he bounds over to Eddie and the kids, falling into step at Eddie’s side like he’s meant to be there.

Chapter Text

Eddie lets Shannon back in at Christmas.

He is still afraid that she’ll leave again, but Buck was right: not doing anything was the only way to guarantee that they’d all get hurt. At least this way, she has a chance to prove his fears are misguided.

It’s a strange thing, having Shannon back in his life. They’re still married, but they aren’t really partners – they haven’t ever really been partners, having spent more of their marriage apart than together and having spent the majority of their time together fighting. But they’re coparenting, and they’re still sleeping together regularly, even though they’re also still arguing regularly, if less than before.

Eddie loves her. He does, he has, he maybe always will because she was his first love and the mother of his child, but – well, he’s not really sure they like each other anymore. They used to be friends, really good friends, and then Shan got pregnant, and they got married and then they stopped having actual conversations with each other. It’s funny how these things can go, to love someone with your whole being and also to barely be able to get through a whole conversation without biting each other’s heads off.

Whatever the situation between Eddie and Shannon is, though, Christopher is thrilled to have his mom back in his life. And she’s making a meaningful effort to be back in his life, to be present and spend time with him, and in front of Christopher the two of them almost feel like a unit in a meaningful way.

The strangest part of Shannon being back in his life, though, is Shannon crossing into his new normal.

Eddie mostly keeps her away from the station – there’s no need for her to visit him there, because Christopher isn’t, and the last fucking thing he needs is another reason for Chim to get into his business about the wife situation like he did after her toy drive appearance – but there is no avoiding the intersection of Shannon Young Diaz and Evan “Buck” Buckley.

Marnie Buckley is maybe Christopher’s best friend, is the thing. Eddie knows better than to assign that for sure without Chris saying so, because these things can be fraught when you’re in kindergarten and first grade, but she’s certainly the friend he asks to see the most often. It’s convenient for Eddie, who wants to spend time with her father just as much. He has far less reservations about calling Buck his best friend.

And if the Buckleys are going to stay as present in his and Christopher’s lives as they have been, they will cross paths with Shannon. They have crossed paths with Shannon.

The first time it happened, Christopher introduced them to her with pure, unadulterated enthusiasm.

Marnie had been excited to meet her, bright and loud and only a little bit shy, tucked half a step behind Christopher as she waved hello. Buck was a bit more subdued, but smiled genuinely as he shook her hand.

Shannon seemed almost startled to encounter the Buckleys; she’d dropped by unannounced for lunch, which Eddie is generally cool with on the weekends, but she clearly wasn’t expecting Eddie and Chris to have company. That first time, she kept throwing odd glances toward Eddie, full of something he wasn’t sure he could read. It had smoothed over quickly, though, and by the third time she and Buck crossed paths at the Diaz house they greeted each other like old – if not particularly close – friends.

They’re comfortable and unsurprised to see each other, but they never linger in a conversation that doesn’t involve Eddie or Christopher. Eddie isn’t entirely certain what to make of that.

He thinks he should be grateful that his best friend and his wife are getting along well. He isn’t certain what to think of the fact that it makes him a little bit uncomfortable, instead.

Still. Christopher is happy. Eddie is – less stressed about Shannon than he was before. Things are good.

“Hey, Chris?” he hears Marnie ask, her little voice floating down the hall from Christopher’s bedroom where the kids are building with LEGO.

“Yeah?” Chris replies.

“What’s it like to have a mom?” says Marnie. “I’ve never had one.”

In the living room, both Buck and Eddie freeze.

“Well, having just a mom is pretty much the same as having just a dad,” Christopher says, unaware of the way his father’s heart cracks in two two rooms away. “I’ve never had them both at the same time before, really. I’ll have to let you know.”

“Okay,” Marnie says. “She’s really nice.”

“Yeah,” says Christopher. “She is.”

Eddie meets Buck’s eye. He’s chewing on his lower lip, running his fingers back and forth over the embossed text on his beer bottle in a way Eddie has learned to recognize as anxious. Buck always looks to touch and texture for grounding, and he’s usually pretty subtle about it. Eddie’s just spent a lot of time with him lately, and he’s starting to see the patterns. Starting to know his tells.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, “she’s just curious. Chris is probably the only friend she has who would know how to answer the question.”

“I guess,” says Buck. “I just – you know, sometimes I wonder if I’m – “

“Enough?” Eddie guesses.

“Yeah,” Buck says, quiet.

“I know the feeling,” admits Eddie. “But you are, you know? I promise that you are.”

“Thanks,” says Buck.

So things are good – largely – and the kids only break Eddie’s heart occasionally. Shannon continues to show up, they keep doing things as a family, and Eddie almost feels like he could let himself fall back in love with her. Or, at least, he always loved her, but he could let himself fall back into a real relationship with her.

And no matter what happens with Shannon, Eddie knows Buck has his back.

(And no matter what happens, Eddie has Buck’s.)

--

Buck is doing a pretty good job of not panicking, all things considered.

He is – stressed. He’s really fucking stressed. But he isn’t panicking.

He didn’t panic when he stopped by Maddie’s place and found Chimney bleeding out from multiple stab wounds. He didn’t panic when he realized Maddie had been kidnapped or the obvious, obvious culprit. He didn’t panic when he stole Chim’s phone, or when he got sat down in hospital jail for messing with evidence or whatever. He isn’t panicking now, as he waits for anybody to do fucking anything instead of hemming and hawing until Doug finally murders his sister like he’d promised he would.

He isn’t panicking. He’s fucking pissed.

“Hey, bud,” Eddie says, taking a seat next to him.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Buck says.

“You don’t want to hear that the kids are safe at Athena’s place, being babysat by May?” Eddie says, almost, almost teasing.

Buck deflates. “I meant – oh, Buck, that was dumb, let the police do their job or whatever.”

“Then it’s a good thing I wasn’t going to say it,” says Eddie. He nudges Buck’s shoulder. “Look, I get it. I’m sure I’d have done the same thing, if our positions were reversed.”

Buck sighs, putting his head in his hands. “It feels like – like this is all my fault.”

Eddie presses his knee against Buck’s. “Buck.”

“I’m the reason she’s even here!” says Buck. “I begged her to stay, and staying put let Doug find her.”

“I think it’s reasonable to assume that Doug would’ve found her anywhere,” Eddie points out, calm and reasonable. “At least here she’s got you and Peanut. Family.”

“Yeah, well, now she’s alone,” Buck snaps, not feeling particularly calm or reasonable. “And that detective is doing jack shit –“

“Buck,” Athena’s voice says, a little further away than Eddie’s.

Buck picks his head up. He’s already bracing again for being told off, but Athena doesn’t look like she’s going to scold him. She’s got that cool competence she always has, but her eyes are soft and sad, and she’s standing here in civvies with her hands in her pockets like a normal person.

And the thing is, Buck has actually spent more time with this version of Athena than the on-the-clock Sergeant Grant. She’s exactly as capable, exactly as serious, exactly as likely to tell him off, but still a bit softer around the edges. Athena off-the-clock is also more likely to give Buck a hug about this, which sounds really nice right now. It’s not that Eddie wouldn’t, is the thing, but Buck doesn’t know how to ask him. He thinks if he gets close enough to Athena she’ll probably just do it.

“I’m not apologizing,” Buck says firmly. “That guy’s an asshole.”

“I’m not here to argue about it,” says Athena.

“It’s going to take forever for the police to get the information I got the right way,” Buck says.

“Probably,” Athena agrees.

“I’m going after them,” Buck says. “You can’t stop me.”

Athena raises an eyebrow, which is fair because Buck may be physically larger than her, but she could probably stop him if she wanted to. But, “I don’t intend to.”

“Oh,” says Buck.

It’s then that he really takes Athena in. She’s still wearing her jacket, and it’s a heavier weight one that’s actually for outside and not just for aesthetics. Bobby is a half-step behind her, and his own jacket is slung over his arm, like he intends to stay. Athena looks ready to leave.

He stands. He feels a little wobbly, but Buck is nothing if not capable of pushing through in an emergency. In his periphery, he can see that Eddie has one hand raised, reaching toward him just a bit. He isn’t touching Buck, but he’s ready to catch him if that wobble becomes a stumble.

It isn’t Athena who pulls Buck into a hug when he gets close – it’s Bobby. He catches Buck by the elbow and pulls him in, and it’s comforting in a way Buck isn’t really familiar with. It’s borderline parental, the same way it feels when Athena hugs him at her front door, which Buck really only knows on instinct because the parents he and Maddie share aren’t exactly beacons of familial affection.

Bobby murmurs assurances into the side of Buck’s head as he tucks his face into Bobby’s shoulder, reminding him that if Maddie were dead they’d likely already know, and that even if the worst did happen he’d have family to hold him together.

“You will listen to Athena,” Bobby says as he pulls away. “No stunts, no running off on your own.”

“I’m not a child,” Buck says.

“No, you’re not,” says Bobby, “but you’re –“ he breaks off, glancing at Athena before obviously adjusting his course, “impulsive and reckless with your own life. Athena’s going to keep you in line.”

“Fine,” says Buck, because he isn’t planning on running off on his own. He trusts Athena to have his back.

Speaking of having his back, he turns to Eddie.

“I’ve got Marnie as long as you need,” Eddie says, like it’s just that easy. “Is there anything specific you want me to tell her about Maddie?”

Buck shakes his head, a little jerky. “I don’t – I don’t know. I don’t know how to turn this into something kid-friendly. Maddie is –“

He breaks off.

“Right,” Eddie says with a sharp nod.

“She should know,” Buck says, quieter. “She should know something’s wrong. I just – I don’t know –“

“Buck,” Eddie cuts in gently. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Buck replies. It’s automatic. Of course he trusts Eddie – with his life, with his daughter’s life. With everything that matters in the world.

Eddie nods again. “Then I’ll figure it out. You just find Maddie, alright? And be good for Athena.”

He says this last bit with a small smile, like it’s almost a joke. Like it would be a joke, in joking circumstances.

The next day or so is a blur.

He and Athena follow the breadcrumbs to a gas station. To a cabin. To the damp, snowy woods.

To Maddie, bloody and ragged-voiced, but alive.

To be honest, Buck barely remembers the trip to the ER with Maddie or the shuffle of getting her transferred to the same hospital as Chim. His impression of the whole thing is mostly physical: Maddie curled in his arms, feeling as small as Marnie; Athena’s hand on his shoulder, on his elbow, at the back of his neck as she pulls him into a hug; uncomfortable chairs in hospital waiting rooms.

And then it’s over.

Buck feels wrung out, and he wasn’t even the one who was stabbed or kidnapped. He was just the guy who was too late, too late, and then lucky as hell.

“Buck?” Athena says later, later, later. “Are you ready to head home?”

“I –“ Buck says, startled. “I don’t – do I have to?”

Athena softens just a little. “He’s dead, Buck. She’s safe, I promise. They’re both safe.”

“Athena,” Buck says.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Athena says gently. It is, again, a particular kind of gentleness that Buck hasn’t really had a lot of experience with from anyone but Maddie herself. “It’s safe, I promise. We found her in time.”

“I can’t bring this home to Marnie,” says Buck.

“Eddie has her,” Athena assures him. She sweeps one hand down the back of his head, her nails just grazing his scalp. “Come home with me and Bobby.”

That’s a relatively recent development; Buck thinks Bobby moved in officially sometime just after Christmas, but it’s a little bit difficult to tell the exact timeline since Bobby never had much in his old apartment and what he did have that meant anything had been creeping into the Grant home for months.

“What if something happens?” he breathes.

“They’ll call, baby,” Athena says. “I promise, they’ll call. Now, come home, and we’ll pick up Marnie in the morning to come see Maddie when she’s awake.”

Buck sighs. He trusts Athena. He does. It’s still just hard to tear himself away from Maddie’s bedside, even if she’s sleeping now and visiting hours are ending.

He lets Athena pull him to his feet – lets being the key word, given that he’s much taller and heavier than she is and if he really wanted to stay put he would.

In the car on the way to Athena and Bobby’s house, Buck gets a text from Eddie. It’s just a photo, no words and no context, of the kids curled up together in Christopher’s bed. They’ve clearly dozed off midway through reading together, a picture book open across their laps and Christopher’s glasses still on, their little heads of golden curls tilted together as they slump across Chris’s pillow. It’s sweet and soft, and it breaks Buck’s heart to know that they’ll be too big to share like this before long, both of them growing like weeds. Buck loves the message, saves the photo to his own phone.

After a moment, he gets another text from Eddie: They insisted I was not necessary for storytime. Is this what the rest of our lives will look like?

Buck laughs, the tension wrapping tight around him finally, finally releasing. Athena shoots him a curious look across the car, and he waves her off. “Eddie sent a picture of the kids, I’ll show you when we get home.”

To Eddie, he says, this is what we get for raising independent kids, I guess. Should’ve known better.

Then: Thanks for taking her.

Eddie’s response is immediate.

You don’t need to thank me for that.

--

Eddie doesn’t know Maddie well, but he knows about her.

He knows that her marriage was bad enough that Buck bought her a bed for his apartment before he bought anything nice for himself. He knows that she’s older enough than Buck that she was involved in raising him, which Eddie can relate to, and that it indicates that Buck might’ve been an accident. He knows that she is dry-witted and clever, the source of a lot of Buck’s particular sense of humor but also funny in a way that appeals to Chimney, which is an overlap that’s almost surprising except that it really, really isn’t.

He knows that she’s living with Buck again, just while she recovers, but he doesn’t know if it’s for her peace of mind or for Buck’s.

From all that Eddie’s heard – and he’s heard a lot, because it feels like everyone he knows is closer with Maddie than he is – she’s recovering well, her physical injuries improving on a promising timeline and her mental recovery slow going but going. Buck is hovering a little, and Eddie has a feeling that right now it’s probably comforting but she’ll reach her limit soon. While she’s still willing to be coddled, though, Eddie’s been taking Marnie without her dad a little more than usual.

Most of the time, when the kids hang out, Eddie and Buck hang out, too. But Buck is reluctant, for the moment, to let his sister out of his sight, and Maddie is going to tolerate that until she isn’t, so Eddie is inclined to give him space to fuss over her.

All of which is to say that today, Eddie is out with Chris and Marnie and Shannon. They’re at the beach, and Shannon coming along wasn’t actually the original plan, but he can’t say he’s upset about it. He and Shannon have been in a good place lately, a better place, and Chris is always thrilled when she comes along for family activities.

The kids are, as ever, keeping each other entertained. They’re a little further down the beach from where Eddie and Shannon are set up with the towels and cooler, close enough that it wouldn’t be difficult for them to intervene if something happens, far enough away that the kids feel like they’ve got a bit of independence.

“It’s nice to see him so happy here,” Shannon says, a little distant.

“He’s happier to have you back,” Eddie tells her. It’s true, even if it isn’t necessarily the whole picture. “Happier to have us as a – as something like a family. We haven’t ever really been that before.”

Christopher’s voice telling Marnie “I’ve never had them both at the same time before, really,” still haunts Eddie sometimes.

“No,” Shannon agrees, “we haven’t.”

Eddie is not looking at Shannon. He’s watching Christopher run sandcastle construction like a little tyrant, with Marnie all too happy to fetch and carry and adjust things to his liking. He’s very particular about aesthetics, for a seven-year-old.

“I’d like to try to be,” Eddie says. He’s been thinking about it a lot, lately. About what he wants, and what he wants to be. Finally, he turns toward Shannon. “This has been good, hasn’t it?”

Shannon still isn’t looking toward Eddie. She’s watching the kids, something odd on her face that Eddie isn’t really sure how to read.

(He isn’t sure when that happened, that Shannon became a language he didn’t know. They were inseparable friends their senior year of high school, and he could tell exactly what she was thinking by the scrunch of her nose. Somewhere along the line, that stopped being true.)

“I think I’m pregnant,” she says, quiet.

It’s exactly what she said when they were kids, just kids, eight years ago. Exactly as shaky and nervous.

He can’t really blame her for that, given the state their relationship is in. They’re less stable than they were as eighteen-year-olds, more prone to fighting, but also older and better equipped to handle a child. Maybe this time they could actually coparent.

Maybe.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, instead of any of that.

“Yeah,” says Shannon.

The conversation drops, for now, because the kids wave them over to see their meticulously created sandcastle, but Eddie is still thinking about it. What it might take for Shannon – who clearly feels ill at ease with the situation – to be willing to make a real go of things again. Because Eddie has been on the fence, uncertain whether to pursue something with Shannon properly or let it fizzle, but this feels like a sign. An opportunity to get things right, away from his parents who’d put so much pressure on things the first time around.

He doesn’t have a chance to really pursue it right away, though, because a few days after the beach, the 118 gets caught up in a bank heist that somehow ends with Bobby under investigation for unrelated reasons. Things are complicated, and tensions are high, and Chimney is trying so fucking hard to be a good captain that he’s circled back around to being sort of hellish.

So it takes a few weeks for Eddie to find a good time to talk to Shannon about it. Only on the night that Eddie has carefully, meticulously planned to, essentially, re-propose, Shannon says, “I’m not pregnant. It was a false alarm.”

And Eddie says, “Oh.”

And then Shannon says, “I think we should get a divorce.”

And Eddie says, “Oh.”

Their evening ends quickly after that.

Eddie goes to Buck’s, after, because Buck has Christopher tonight. It’s too late to bring him home, the waking and the driving and the going back to bed an unnecessary dance, but at the same time, Eddie doesn’t want to be alone. Maddie isn’t staying with Buck and Marnie anymore, so there’ll definitely be space for him, and even if there weren’t he feels like Buck would probably find some.

Buck greets Eddie quietly, and isn’t annoyed when Eddie more or less blows past him to peek into Marnie’s room. Christopher and Marnie are tucked into Marnie’s bed side-by-side, sleeping curled toward each other in a way that suggests they were having one of the giggly, whispered post-bedtime conversations they think Eddie and Buck can’t hear when they fell asleep. Eddie takes a long moment just to watch them sleep from the doorway, breathing deliberately slowly as he tries to wrap his head around what happened tonight.

“Bad date with Shan?” Buck asks, when Eddie finally shuts the door on the kids. He’s perched on one end of the couch, his knee pulled to his chest. There are two beers sitting open on the coffee table.

“She asked for a divorce,” Eddie replies. He sits down opposite Buck, a little further away than he usually sits.

“Shit,” says Buck. “What about the kids?”

Buck is the only person that Eddie has told that Shannon thought she was pregnant. He’s probably the only person he’ll tell for a while about the divorce.

“Kid,” Eddie corrects, not meeting Buck’s eye. “She’s not pregnant. And she said she wants to prioritize being a mom before she and I try to be anything to each other again, which is – it’s fine, it’s fine, as long as she actually does it, you know?”

“I know,” says Buck. And Buck probably does, because Buck has been the one that has heard the whole saga over the last eight months.

“I’m scared that if – if we get the divorce, she won’t have a reason to commit to staying,” Eddie says, quiet. “And I – she can hurt me, I don’t care. But if I let her pull away from me, and then she stops showing up for Chris, I will never forgive myself.”

“It wouldn’t be your fault,” Buck says immediately. Eddie makes an indistinct sound of disagreement, and Buck stretches his leg out to gently kick him. “Ed, look at me.” He waits until Eddie does, and then, “It wouldn’t be your fault. In fact, it would be less your fault than ever, because you wouldn’t have any responsibility at all for her behavior if you weren’t married anymore.”

“I’m the one who brought her back into his life.”

“She’s his mom. You did what you thought was right at the time, knowing that she’d left before and there was a chance it could bite you in the ass. But she’s his mom and he missed her. Of course you let her back in.”

Eddie doesn’t sleep on the pull-out couch that night. When he starts to fade, beers long finished, Buck just drags him into his own bedroom, the two of them falling asleep midway through a whispered conversation, curled toward each other the same as the kids in the next room.

Two days later, they’re called to the scene of a car accident. Some asshole hit a pedestrian.

Buck is a handful of steps ahead of Eddie as they round the car, which means that Buck sees her first.

He draws up short, stopping so hard that Eddie walks directly into him.

“Eddie,” he says, sharp and serious, “Eddie, turn around.”

“What?” says Eddie, and it’s too late.

Shannon is sprawled in the street, bleeding and broken. It’s easy to see, to Eddie’s trained eye, that they are probably too late to save her.

Knowing that does not make losing her any easier.

He rides in the ambulance with her, they have one last heartbreaking conversation, and then she’s gone. She’s gone before they even get to the hospital.

Eddie is, frankly, barely holding it together when he gets out to the waiting room with Shannon’s things. The team are all there, hovering, but Buck of all people is hanging back, his eyes on the door.

Which all makes sense a beat later, when Bobby walks in. He doesn’t hesitate or pause, just crosses the room efficiently to pull Eddie into a tight, grounding hug.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Christopher, doesn’t know how he’s going to explain.

(And to think that a few days ago he’d been agonizing over explaining the divorce.)

He lets that fade for a moment, though, letting Bobby hold him together for a while. He breathes in gasping sobs, even as tears refuse to fall.

--

Buck has been doing everything that he can to try to have Eddie’s back in the immediate aftermath of Shannon’s death. He had a long conversation with Marnie about it that day, about mortality and the fact that this meant that Christopher and Eddie would be sad for a while, and might not want to play as much as they usually do.

That was a good conversation to have, since it’s important for Marnie to understand what’s going on, but Buck learns quickly that the Diazes do still want them around. Buck is helping Eddie organize the funeral and everything else that comes along with it, and Marnie has been impressively patient with going with the flow of Christopher’s moods, playing when he’s up for it and keeping him company when he isn’t.

In the midst of this, someone has started leaving bombs on people’s doorsteps.

Eddie’s family comes in for the funeral. They were already planning to come for Eddie’s shield ceremony, which is in about a week and a half, and apparently they’ve just extended that original visit to start earlier. To help.

Buck, privately, isn’t entirely certain how much they’re helping.

He doesn’t see much of them, in the end. But at the funeral, Eddie’s parents are attentive to Christopher and barely seem aware that Eddie is there, and they spend most of the reception hosted by Eddie’s abuela trying to convince him to move back to Texas. As if what he or Chris needs right now is to uproot their entire lives.

Buck knows from talking to Eddie at work – since Eddie returns to work almost immediately, chafing with inaction at home on his bereavement leave and exhausted by his parents’ presence – that that conversation does not drop after the funeral. It keeps sneaking into other conversations, whether it’s appropriate or not.

And someone is leaving bombs on doorsteps.

Buck doesn’t know that that will be important right away. It’s an extra layer of stress at work, but it’s not an immediate, important threat until one of them arrives on Athena and Bobby’s porch.

And even then –

Even then, they don’t know.

Bobby is still suspended, so he isn’t with the 118 when it happens. Or, well, he isn’t until he is. Buck won’t remember that detail later, though.

It’s a normal shift until it isn’t. They’re in the trucks, rocketing toward an emergency that won’t matter tomorrow, and Buck is in the ladder truck while Eddie, Hen, and Chim ride in the engine, fifty feet ahead. He won’t remember later why he’s riding in the other truck. It won’t matter.

One minute, he’s chatting idly with O’Connell, who’s driving, and the next minute he is flat on the pavement in more pain than he’s ever felt in his life. It’s actually hard to tell, at first, where he’s actually injured. All of him is screaming – he’s definitely got scrapes from the pavement everywhere he’s got skin exposed, bruising at absolute best all down his front, but the worst of it –

The worst of it –

He’s trapped, is the thing. He can move a little, but he’s pinned by one leg and that’s where most of the pain is radiating from. He doesn’t want to look back to see what’s pinning him. He has a terrifying feeling that he knows the answer.

He’s scared. He’s not certain of what’s going on but he thinks he might be dying. He thinks if he doesn’t get out of this he definitely will be dying.

The first really specific thing outside of himself that he’s really aware of is Bobby’s voice, indistinct through the pain. Bobby isn’t supposed to be here.

The next thing he’s aware of is Eddie, on his knees in front of Buck. He’s holding Buck’s hand, and doesn’t seem to care that Buck is clinging probably painfully tight.

He’s murmuring, his voice more clear to Buck than anyone else’s, but it’s still a little vague. It’s a steady stream of it’s okay, you’re okay, we’ve got you, I’ve got you, keep breathing, I’ve got you, you’re okay interjected occasionally with not again, not again, not again.

Eddie is having a bad week.

Buck is, now, also having a bad week.

The next thing he’s really consciously aware of is waking up in the hospital, and he’s surprised and grateful to discover that a) he is alive, and b) his leg is still attached to his body. He has a steady stream of visitors for the handful of days he’s in the hospital – his sister and Chim and Hen, Eddie and Christopher, and the Grants and Bobby with Marnie.

Marnie has a frightened, haunted look about her, and it strikes Buck that she is probably more aware of his mortality than she ever has been before. She knows, now, that parents can die.

(Chris is haunted, too, when Eddie brings him. Eddie tells Buck, later, that he’d insisted on coming as soon as he was allowed, needing to confirm with his own eyes that he hadn’t lost anyone else.)

Buck is out of the hospital just barely in time to attend Eddie’s ceremony. And he needs to attend Eddie’s ceremony. Eddie has been having a really shitty month, and Buck would be a really shitty best friend if he didn’t show up. Even if Eddie would never say so.

So Buck drags himself – well, he gets Athena to drag him, actually, after a small fight with Maddie over how he should handle everything and hacking off the leg of his uniform pants because it’s the only way to wear them with his cast and it feels important to be in uniform for this – to the station like six days after his leg was crushed and not quite two weeks after Shannon died. Marnie is thrilled to be there, and Christopher is in the best mood Buck has seen since Shannon’s death.

Eddie keeps making Buck sit down. Every time Buck starts to get up – to get more food, to check on Marnie, to chat with someone – Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder and forces him back down into a chair, before bringing exactly what he was getting up for back to the table without needing to ask. Buck sees Eddie’s parents watching this, each time it happens bringing a deeper furrow to Mrs. Diaz’s brow. He isn’t sure why.

Buck’s favorite part of the day is when all the kids descend on his table, even May, and he gets to tell them wildly over-exaggerated stories of Eddie’s heroics in his first year of firefighting. He’s got Chris and Marnie on either side of him, squished in close, and there’s a moment where he looks up and catches Eddie’s eye just as he glances over, a fond, familiar smile on his face.

--

Marnie turns six four days before Buck is free of his cast for good, and graciously agrees to wait for her birthday party to be after he is officially cast-free.

Athena insists on hosting the family party, since they have enough family now to do that. There is a brand new family photo on the mantle from Bobby and Athena’s impromptu wedding, which was about a week after Buck was freed from the hospital, just a handful of days after Eddie’s ceremony. Bobby had called out of the blue and told Buck to get himself and Peanut presentable, then picked them up for what turned out to be a small, immediate-family-only wedding ceremony at city hall. Because, apparently, both Bobby and Athena had decided that he and Marnie fall under that umbrella.

Chim and Hen spot the photo immediately and start playfully bitching about Buck getting to go when no one else was invited, but it’s light. They are a little annoyed not to have been invited, but no one’s genuinely begrudging Buck’s presence.

Marnie is having the time of her life, flitting between the knot of other kids hanging out in the corner of the yard and all of the adults.

At the end of the night, she’s curled up on Eddie’s lap on the couch, fast asleep. Christopher is next to them, slumped against his dad. Buck snaps a photo when Eddie isn’t looking, and he’s pretty sure it’s his favorite photo he’s taken all year. It’s nice to see Eddie look soft and content, after everything that’s happened in the last few months.

“You should get that printed,” Athena says, leaning over Buck’s shoulder.

“Maybe twice,” Buck agrees.

“You should sit,” says Athena. “You’ve been on your feet for a while.”

“I should’ve known you wanted something from me,” Buck says lightly.

“C’mon, kid,” Bobby says, appearing at Buck’s other side.

Between the two of them, Buck doesn’t really have a choice. He lets them guide him to the dining room table, and accepts an additional slice of cake for his troubles.

“Hey,” he says, once they’ve both settled at the table with him. “Thanks for hosting, by the way. It means a lot.”

“We love that girl,” Athena says, shaking her head. “And where, exactly, were you going to host it? I’ve been in your apartment; you do not have the space for this.”

Buck laughs. “I know you love her. Love us. I still appreciate it.”

“Any time, Buck,” Bobby says. He reaches over to pat Buck’s arm. “Any time.”

And Buck really, truly believes it.

It’s not long later that Eddie wanders out, carrying a still-sleeping Marnie with Chris following drowsily behind.

“We should head for home, Buck,” Eddie says. “Or we’ll lose Chris, too, and you’re not really up for carrying either of them right now.”

Bobby glances at Athena, the two of them exchanging something silent that Buck can’t parse.

“You two are more than welcome to stay the night here,” Athena offers, but Buck’s already shaking his head before she even finishes her sentence.

“We promised a sleepover,” he explains. “So we should probably get going. Thanks, again.”

“You’re very welcome,” says Athena.

Bobby holds a hand out to steady Buck as he pushes up from the table, only pulling back when he’s certain Buck has his feet under him. Buck pauses to press a kiss to Athena’s cheek before he goes.

“Love you guys,” he says, before he can stop himself.

“Love you, too, kid,” Bobby replies.

Chapter Text

Buck has been pushing really, really hard to get back to work as soon as possible. Eddie really can’t blame him. Buck doesn’t handle inactivity well, and he’s hung a lot of his self-worth on being a firefighter. Eddie wishes it were easier to convince him that he’s a worthwhile person and a good father no matter what his job is, but at the end of the day everybody has their hangups and Buck’s issues run pretty deep.

All of which is to say that Eddie has spent the last few months watching everybody else try to talk Buck into slowing down, and holding him together on the days when his limits catch up with him. For what it’s worth, Buck has been listening to his doctors and his body as much as Eddie could reasonably expect. He’s obviously itching to get back out there, but he hasn’t been going overboard.

It isn’t a surprise that he passes his recertification.

The party is, though.

Eddie had taken Marnie for the day with a promise that they wouldn’t go “anywhere cool” without Buck, and had immediately taken her and Christopher to Bobby and Athena’s house to help set up for Buck’s party. Well – Eddie helps. Chris and Marnie disappear into Harry’s room to play almost immediately.

Maddie is the one bringing Buck to the party, so all Eddie has to worry about is whether the banners are even and the buffet that Bobby had put together is well-organized. Athena keeps coming over to shoo him away from the food table.

“It looks fine, Eddie,” she promises.

“He’s just been working so hard,” Eddie says, the third time. “I want it to be perfect.”

“It will be,” says Athena. She’s got this amused twinkle in her eye, which Eddie isn’t really certain what to do with.

He’s the first to hug Buck when he arrives, propelled forward by Bobby’s hand at the center of his back even while he’s already in motion.

“Congratulations, man!” he says, gripping Buck’s arms tightly as they slide apart.

“Thanks,” Buck says, grinning back at him.

Chris and Marnie made cards, which both make Buck tear up. He scoops both of the kids into his arms at once, lifting them off of the ground in a delighted bear hug and wiggling them above the floor until they start giggling and faux-complaining to be put down.

“Thank you,” Buck says again as he finally sets the kids down. He kisses both of them on the top of their matching heads of golden curls. The longer they let Chris’s hair get, the more he and Marnie could pass for siblings. “I love you guys so much!”

“Love you too, Daddy!” Marnie chirps.

“Love you, Buck,” says Chris.

Buck straightens up, beaming over the kids’ heads at Eddie. “Did you help them with these?”

“I procured paper and markers,” Eddie says. “They did the rest themselves.”

“We have such great, creative kids,” Buck says, still grinning bright enough to light up all of Los Angeles. “And their handwriting is getting so good!”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, I think they’ve both been practicing.”

Buck breaks off after that, pulled into a conversation with Karen and Maddie about walruses and then pulled further, into a conversation with Bobby about something Eddie can’t hear.

This moment will be burned into Eddie’s brain forever:

Buck is talking to Bobby, across the yard from Eddie. All of the kids are on the patio by the doors, Chris and Marnie at the center of the group chattering about something Eddie doesn’t really hear. His awareness of Chris and Marnie is mostly peripheral; he always knows where they are when they’re nearby, but this isn’t a place where he feels a strong need to watch them. He is looking at Buck, across the yard, and whatever Buck is talking about with Bobby has him searching Eddie out in turn, a softer smile than earlier spreading across his face as their eyes meet. He turns his attention back to Bobby, that smile still lingering.

And then he isn’t smiling anymore. He’s coughing, confusion furrowing his brow. And as he coughs, blood begins to drip from his mouth down his chin. It’s slow at first and then it isn’t slow at all, and Buck collapses toward Bobby as the rest of the yard erupts into chaos.

Eddie is the only one with medical training not to dart toward Buck. Hen, Chimney, and Maddie are all moving at top speed in that direction. Bobby is already cradling him, guiding him gently toward the ground. Karen has her phone out, already dialing 9-1-1 before anyone is even certain what’s going on.

Eddie has about a four second delay on responding. But when he does, it’s not to move toward Buck. He turns on his heel toward where the kids are standing, all of them watching with wide eyes and open mouths. In one movement, he scoops Marnie up with one arm and Christopher with the other, and starts to carry them both into the house. It’s not that he wants the other kids to see whatever is happening to Buck, but his immediate priority is to keep their kids from maybe-possibly watching Buck die.

Denny, Harry, and eventually May trail inside after them. Eddie has, on pure instinct, carried the kids into Harry’s bedroom. His first thought was Bobby and Athena’s, which was closest, but it has a big window that overlooks the yard which felt like a bad move.

“Eddie?” Marnie says into Eddie’s shirt. Her face is tucked into his side, his arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah, Peanut?” Eddie replies, trying to keep his voice steady.

“Is Daddy going to die?”

Christopher makes a small, indistinct sound on Eddie’s other side, burrowing a little closer.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says. “Oh, oh, Marnie, I –“

“You don’t know,” Chris says, soft, “do you?”

“No,” Eddie breathes. “I wish I could tell you guys for certain what’s going on and exactly how we’ll take care of it, but I don’t, and I am so, so sorry.”

That’s when May appears, leaning around the doorframe to her little brother’s bedroom and looking pale and shaken but not devastated.

“Paramedics just left,” she announces to the room. “Maddie went with Buck to the hospital. Mom wants to know if Marnie is staying with us tonight, or with you.”

Eddie nudges Marnie up and away from him, just enough to meet her eye. “What do you want to do, Peanut? You want to stay here with your grandparents, or come home with me and Christopher?”

“I want my dad,” Marnie says, teary-eyed.

“I know, baby,” says Eddie. “I know. But he’s got to go to the hospital, so the doctors can make sure he’s okay.”

“He’s supposed to be okay!” says Marnie. “He was hurt and he got better! This isn’t fair!”

“I know,” Eddie says again.

“I want my dad,” Marnie repeats, quieter.

“We’ll go see him as soon as we can,” Eddie promises. He’s hoping that they’ll be seeing an alive and stable Buck when they do. “But in the meantime, do you want to stay with Athena and Bobby, or do you want to come home with me?”

Marnie’s grip on the front of Eddie’s shirt tightens. “You.”

“Okay,” says Eddie. He eases out of the kids’ grip. “Can you two go get your things and meet me by the front door? I want to talk to Athena really quick before we leave.”

Christopher nods firmly. Marnie doesn’t, but she gets up and offers a hand to help Chris do the same.

Eddie pats Harry and Denny on the shoulders as he gets to his feet. They both look a little shaken up, but otherwise alright.

He finds Athena just outside the back door, eyes still fixed on the spot where Buck had fallen. Bobby is nowhere to be seen – he’s either cleaning off or already left to follow the ambulance.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

Athena takes a sharp little breath, like he’s actually startled her. He’s sure he’s never managed that before. “Alright. You and the kids?”

“They are a little freaked out, but I think that’s understandable under the circumstances,” Eddie tells her.

“Eddie,” Athena says.

“I’m fine,” says Eddie. “Focused on the kids. That’s all I can do right now, you know?”

Athena studies him. “Right. Are you keeping Marnie tonight?”

“If that’s alright with you,” Eddie replies.

“It is,” says Athena. “You take care, alright? We’ll be in touch.”

“Of course,” Eddie promises. “Hey – are you okay?”

She nods, sharp. “Don’t you worry about me, Eddie. You focus on the kids.”

“I can do both,” says Eddie.

“Go home,” Athena says. She pats him on the arm, mouth pulling into something almost resembling a smile. “We’ll be alright here.”

--

Buck gets about four days to wallow.

Maddie comes for the first two, even though she’s mad at him – which, okay, side note: so fucking unfair – and she keeps an eye on Marnie while he mostly tries to disappear into his comforter. The next day, Athena picks Marnie up from school, texting Buck about it about ten minutes before he would’ve had to leave to get her. He gets David to come in on Thursday, since Marnie has been missing him despite enjoying her summer of Dad time.

Friday, Marnie is off of school. He knows he’ll have to get up soon, to start her day and keep her entertained, but – it’s hard. It’s really fucking hard. And moments like this are the ones he wishes most he had someone else for her, because as a single parent he can’t afford to sink any deeper into this. Marnie needs him.

He’s just about finished processing that thought when his comforter is ripped off of him.

“Up,” Eddie says.

Eddie has a key to Buck’s house. Eddie has had a key to Buck’s house since the day he and Marnie had moved into it over the summer, which is a decision Buck has never regretted but is maybe questioning a little bit right this moment.

(Buck loves this house. He’d been meaning to look for something for a while and being out of work had meant he’d run out of excuses, and it had been a painful and annoying process until he’d stepped through the front door of this house for the first time. It’s got a great kitchen, three bedrooms so they can host guests in a space that actually has a door, and it’s about halfway between Eddie’s house and Bobby and Athena’s. That might be the best part.)

“I was going to,” Buck grumbles. “Why are you here?”

“Kids are off today,” Eddie points out, a little nonsensically. Obviously, Buck knows that. Marnie had started at Chris’s smaller, private school for first grade, thanks to a combination of a nice scholarship and Buck finally dipping into some funds he’d been avoiding reaching for for a while, so they’re on the same off-day schedule outside of the weekends. “And Carla’s out of town.”

“Eddie,” Buck says. He’s pretty sure he sees where this is going, and he’s not sure he’s comfortable being responsible for an extra kid today. Not when he’s feeling so shitty that he’s barely managing his own.

“Fortunately, I’ve got a best friend with a kid Chris adores and a whole lot of free time on his hands,” Eddie plows on. He pauses, taking a seat next to Buck at the edge of the bed. “And anyway, I think it’ll be good for him to spend some time with his Buck, after last weekend.”

Buck sits up so fast he’s a little dizzy. Of course Chris wants to spend time with him – Marnie has been extra clingy this week, even knowing that Buck isn’t really feeling up for much, because there’d been a moment at the party where even the kids thought he was going to die. Of course.

“Right,” Buck says.

“I’m going to leave y’all some money for lunch,” Eddie says. “Promise me that you’ll get out of the house, bud.”

“Eddie –“

“Buck,” Eddie cuts in. “It’ll be good for you. Have some fun, hang out with the kids, and remember that this is a setback, not the end of the world.”

“Fine,” says Buck.

Eddie leans over and ruffles his hair the same way he always does with Christopher’s. “If you don’t get up in the next thirty seconds, I’m giving the kids pop tarts for breakfast.”

“Hey, no, those are for school days!” Buck replies. It’s easy to propel himself out of bed, now, chasing Eddie into the living room. Marnie and Chris are perched on the couch side-by-side, watching.

“Then make some real breakfast,” says Eddie, looking a little smug. “Have a good day, guys. Love you.”

“Love you, too!” Christopher and Marnie chorus back as Eddie leaves.

Buck sighs. “So, what do you guys want to do today?”

He ends up taking them out for breakfast, sending a Buckley-Diaz breakfast selfie to Eddie.

Bet you wish you were here, he sends alongside the picture. The kids are both grinning in that unrestrained kid way, and even Buck has managed a real smile. They all have plates piled high with waffles and fruit and whipped cream.

Always, Eddie replies almost immediately. I’d always rather be with y’all than with these two.

It comes with a photo of Chimney and Hen looking exaggeratedly sad.

They say that they would also like to be there.

Buck sends a heart back, then settles in for eating and kid food management.

He takes the kids to the pier, after breakfast.

They ride some rides, they play some games. It’s hard to feel as down as he has this week when the kids are just as bright and enthusiastic as ever. They win a bear plush that’s almost as big as Marnie.

The only moment where Buck’s mood starts to falter again is when he spots the 136 responding to a medical call nearby, another reminder of the fact that he should be at work right now but can’t be.

Eventually, they set up on a bench at the end of the pier. Buck is sitting between the two kids, who are standing on the bench looking out over the water. He’s got one hand hovering behind Marnie and the other twisted in the back of Chris’s shirt, since he has more trouble with balance. His crutches are propped against the side of the bench on his side, and the bear is perched on Marnie’s other side.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“An astronaut,” Chris says.

“A pirate!” Marnie chirps.

“Wait –“ says Chris, grinning over at her, “a firefighter.”

“Yeah!” says Marnie, grinning back.

Buck’s heart cracks open. “Well, I hope – I hope when you guys are grown up, you find something that – that feels right to do. Something that calls to you and makes you happy, that brings you people you love. And I hope you get to do it forever.”

Marnie hums, a little sad.

Christopher reaches down to cradle Buck’s chin with his little hand. “Hey. You’re gonna be okay, kid.”

“Thanks, buddy,” says Buck.

“Hey, Daddy?” Marnie says. “Where’d the water go?”

Buck turns around, sharp. Sure enough, the shore has receded significantly, revealing ocean floor much further back than they should be able to see. Fuck. Buck knows what that means.

He stands up, scooping Christopher with one arm and Marnie with the other and takes off running toward land. He’s yelling for other people to run, too, but he knows that for most if not all of them, it will be too late.

It’s too much to hope that he can outrun a tsunami, but he’s going to fucking try.

In the end, as he feels the wave looming behind him, he ducks into a booth and hopes that it will at least break the initial impact of the water. He’s holding as tightly as he can to both kids, but as the ocean crashes down over them, he feels one then the other of them slide out of his arms.

--

It starts as a normal, if not particularly exciting, shift.

There’s a few straightforward medical calls, and one call for a kid who got wedged in between two pieces of playground equipment, whose dad is looking on with an expression Eddie can only define as exhaustion. When they get her free, her dad just sighs and says, “Baby, you have got to stop doing this.”

The team does a very good job of not bursting into laughter until they get back into the engine.

It’s midway through the morning that Buck’s text comes in, a sweet photo of him and the kids with a truly staggering amount of sugar on the table between them. Eddie wishes he could be with them, or at least that Buck could be here. Shifts without him are a little bit dull, a little sad.

And then a tsunami sweeps into Los Angeles.

The 118 gets pulled almost immediately into rescue efforts, even before the water has receded, going out on boats to try to reach as many people as possible.

Between difficult, exhausting, wet rescues, Eddie is almost glad that Buck isn’t here. Almost. Even this would be better if Buck were here, but it also makes Eddie feel a little better to know that he’s out there somewhere, safe with the kids.

The worst rescue of the day is on a boat, where a small wedding had taken place just before the wave. The husband and his new wife’s adult son are impaled together in steadily rising water.

They get both of them out by some miracle, but Eddie can’t help but wonder what the chances are that they’ll both actually survive in the long run are.

Eventually they end up at what’s left of Santa Monica pier, which seems to have taken the worst of it. Anyone who was on the pier itself is probably long dead and washed out to sea, but about half of the Ferris wheel is still above water with guests trapped inside. It’s going to be a complicated rescue, but hopefully they can save a few people.

--

Buck gets his head above water and immediately starts shouting for his kids. He’s being washed down a street, at least a block inland from the ocean.

He is screaming his voice ragged for either one of his kids to answer.

“Buck!”

Buck fights the current to turn, looking around for the source of Christopher’s voice.

“Buck!”

“Christopher!” Buck shouts back. “Chris! Chris!”

“Here!” Chris calls. “Buck, I’m here!”

And then Buck’s eye catches on him. Thank God – or Eddie Diaz – he’s wearing a bright yellow shirt, which makes his little frame that much easier to spot.

“Stay there!” Buck shouts. “Stay there, buddy, I’m coming to you!”

And he lets a combination of the current and his own swimming skill carry him toward Christopher. When he reaches him – clinging to a light post for dear life – he gathers him into his arms, making sure to hold him high enough that his head is level with Buck’s above the water. Buck starts looking around for somewhere, anywhere, they can be safe.

He finds one of the 136’s trucks.

(He tries not to wonder if any of the 136 survived.)

Getting situated on the top of the truck is difficult, but Buck is fucking determined. The hard part is hauling himself up the side, Christopher over his shoulder weighing barely anything in the grand scheme of things. He camps them out just behind the cab, a little bit protected.

“Buck,” Chris says when he finally settles next to him. “Where’s Marnie?”

“I don’t know,” Buck admits. He feels like a part of himself has been clawed out to admit it.

“Is she –“

“I don’t know.”

If he hadn’t found Christopher, Buck thinks he might have just let the wave wash him away.

Chris tucks himself against Buck’s side, clinging tightly.

“But hey,” Buck says, “hey, we’re safe. We’re alive and we’re safe, okay, buddy?”

“Okay,” says Chris.

Buck ends up rescuing a few more survivors, using the hose to catch them and help them pull themselves in as they drift past. He keeps looking for Marnie.

Marnie is a strong swimmer, but at this point –

His hopes aren’t very high.

The only thing keeping him going is that Chris is alive and Chris is right here, so when the wave finally recedes and jostles the truck, sending Christopher over the edge and back into the water, there’s only one choice to make.

He has to bring at least one of his kids home.

He dives back in.

--

The 118 picks up Lena Bosko of the 136 on the Ferris wheel rescue. She’s looking for her team, hoping against hope that she isn’t the only survivor.

She’s also, for a while, concealing an injury.

Eddie can’t blame her, really. If his people were lost out there, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to find them, to help them. Even if it meant pushing through some discomfort of his own. But once they know about it, Bobby can’t in good conscience let her keep helping them. There’s a temporary hospital set up not too far out from where they are, and Bobby convinces Lena to go get checked out.

Maybe some of her people will have gone there, too.

Bobby sends Eddie with her, which Lena resists, but it’s the only way he can trust that she’ll end up where she’s supposed to be going. He shoots Eddie a look that suggests he won’t mind if they take the walk slow.

They’ve made it maybe a mile when Eddie hears it.

“HELP!”

And he takes off at a run.

--

The water has receded, leaving damp roads and carnage in its wake. Buck is walking, wandering.

He’s stopping everyone he passes.

“Have you seen a little boy?” he asks. “He’s wearing a yellow shirt, and he’s – he’s eight, he’s barely eight.”

Every person says no. Every person has the same heartbroken look in their eyes.

Buck finds Christopher’s glasses, unmistakable in the wreckage, but Christopher is still nowhere to be found. He hangs the glasses around his neck.

Chris will need them, if he finds him.

And if he doesn’t, he’ll have lost both his daughter and Eddie’s son in one fell swoop.

He keeps searching.

--

“Help!”

That voice.

“Please help!”

Eddie skids to a halt under a tree where, high in the branches, sits Marnie Maddie Buckley.

She is scraped and bedraggled, her golden blonde curls slipping out of the braids Eddie himself had done for her this morning.

“Marnie?” he calls.

“Eddie!” Marnie replies. “Eddie, I’m stuck!”

“I’m coming up to you, Peanut,” Eddie promises. He immediately starts looking around for something to boost up with, no good handholds on the lowest part of the tree. He glances back at Lena. “I know your ribs are fucked, but do you think you could handle taking her for a minute when I get her down?”

“Of course,” Lena says. Then, hesitant, “Who -?”

“She’s my partner’s kid,” Eddie says, looking back up at Marnie. “He had both of the kids today, I – I didn’t know they’d come out here.”

“Shit,” Lena breathes.

Getting up to Marnie is easier than getting her down, but it’s doable. He passes her to Lena so he can jump down, scooping her back up as soon as he’s back on his feet.

“Marnie, baby,” Eddie says, holding her close. “Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”

Marnie shakes her head, then presses her face into his neck.

“Have you seen Dad or Chris since the water came?” Eddie asks. He’s not optimistic, really, but he needs to ask.

“No,” Marnie sobs into his shoulder. “I lost them.”

Eddie swallows hard. He needs to hold it together for Marnie.

“Daddy was holding us,” Marnie continues. “We saw the water pull away and he picked up me and Chris and started running, but I slipped away, I couldn’t hold on. I grabbed onto the tree when the water was high, but I was all alone.”

“Well, I’ve got you now, Peanut,” Eddie promises. “I’ve got you, okay?”

“Okay,” Marnie mumbles.

“Hospital?” Lena offers, after a moment.

“Hospital,” Eddie agrees.

They start walking again, a little slower now that Eddie has Marnie cradled in his arms. He doesn’t want to put her down.

Her breathing slows a little, teetering on the edge of sleep.

“Hey, Diaz,” Lena says in a low voice. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

--

Buck is still walking. It’s dark now.

He has helped a lot of people, he thinks, rushing over to anyone stuck or trapped in the hope that it will be Christopher. Or – with less optimism – Marnie.

He’s almost certain that he’s lost both of them for good, but he has to keep looking. Has to keep trying. He doesn’t know how he’ll tell Eddie he lost his baby. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive losing his own.

He keeps fucking walking.

Someone points him toward a temporary hospital set up nearby, and he moves that way, desperate. Everyone in the triage area keeps trying to check him out, which is – whatever. Buck is pretty sure he’s got some injuries that he can barely even feel and he knows he’s been bleeding for hours, but it doesn’t matter if he can’t find his fucking kids.

He borrows a phone from someone, and dials the only number he knows by heart anymore.

“Buck?” Maddie says.

“Maddie,” Buck says. It comes out something like a sob.

“Evan? Evan, what’s wrong?” says Maddie.

“I was on the pier with the kids,” Buck tells her. Maddie’s answering gasp tells him she understands the rest without being told, but he has to say it anyway. “I was – I was on the pier and we saw the wave and I took off running but – but. I couldn’t hold onto them, Maddie, I couldn’t – and now – now – I’m going to have to tell Eddie I lost his kid, you know? How do I tell my best friend that I lost his baby when I can barely wrap my head around the fact I lost mine, too?”

“Oh, Evan,” Maddie breathes. “Wait – are you alright? Physically, I mean, obviously you’re –“

“I’m fine, Maddie,” Buck says dismissively. “I can’t – I can’t stop to get checked out until I find Chris or – or at least figure out what to say –“

“Chris?” echoes Maddie. “Not Marnie?”

Buck makes a strangled noise at the back of his throat. “I lost Marnie first. I had Christopher after the wave, we were safe, and then – then he was back in the water. I can’t –“

“Breathe,” Maddie cuts in, sharp. “Evan, breathe.”

“How?” Buck replies.

--

Eddie spends the walk to the VA hospital trying to get himself under control. Marnie is dozing on his shoulder, utterly wiped out by the physical and emotional demands of the day, and Lena is walking next to him with her eyes straight ahead, looking haunted.

Christopher and Buck are probably dead.

Fuck. Christopher and Buck are almost definitely dead.

Eddie feels a little bit like the floor has fallen out from under him, like he’s been falling since he first heard Marnie’s voice and realized what it must mean.

He can’t do this.

He can’t keep going, can’t lose his son and his best friend not six months after Shannon. He can’t lose Christopher; he won’t survive organizing a funeral for his eight-year-old son.

But at the same time –

Eddie shifts Marnie in his arms, cradling her closer. If Marnie has also lost Buck and Christopher, and lost them in a horrifying, traumatic way, Eddie cannot fall to pieces. He can’t disappear into his own grief, he can’t stop showing up. Like in May, holding it together for Christopher after Shannon died, but that much harder for the fact that this time Chris is the one who died. That much harder for the fact that Marnie had to watch.

At least when Shannon died, Christopher wasn’t standing on the street. Wasn’t holding her hand.

He was holding us, Marnie had said. Buck was holding onto them. And getting pulled away probably saved Marnie’s life, but she is going to have to live with this for the rest of her life. Eddie has to keep it together, because Marnie is going to need support and love and stability from the adults in her life, and in a world without Christopher or Buck in it Eddie would not survive not staying in Marnie’s life, too.

When they arrive at the hospital, Eddie splits off from Lena. He hopes she’s actually going to go get checked out, but she’s not really his responsibility anymore. He’s focused on Marnie.

He jostles her gently awake again. “Hey, Peanut, can I put you down so we can make sure you’re alright?”

Marnie’s grip in Eddie’s shirt goes tight. “No.”

“Baby,” Eddie says, his throat tight. “Baby girl, c’mon, I’ll be right here. I promise. I just want to make sure you aren’t hurt anywhere.”

“M’not,” says Marnie. “I don’t wanna go down.”

The nurse waiting to look her over is watching with an expression that’s sympathetic bordering pained. Nobody likes watching kids in obvious distress, and it’s not hard to guess why Marnie is being clingy right now.

“What if dad sits down with you?” she offers. “He can sit on the cot, and you can be on his lap.”

This poor woman had no way of knowing how wrong a thing this is to say, but Eddie isn’t surprised when it makes Marnie burst into loud, wailing sobs.

“We’ll circle back,” Eddie says to her. The nurse, now startled and confused, nods.

He carries Marnie away, walking in little wandering circles and rubbing her back gently.

“I know,” he murmurs, “I know, I know.”

“Daddy’s gone,” Marnie sobs. “I lost him and I lost Chris and now they’re – they’re – they’re –“

She dissolves again into gasping, full-body sobs.

Eddie is still walking her, the same way he learned to when Christopher was small, when he spots him.

Across the street, there’s a man. He is tall and broad, with ocean-damp curls sticking to the side of his face and scrapes bleeding sluggishly down his arm. He’s turned away and mostly silhouetted by the light streaming from the building behind him, but Eddie knows that silhouette. He knows that build. He could recognize Buck at a distance, in a crowd, in the dark.

He falters a step.

Because that can’t be Buck. It can’t be, because Buck is almost certainly dead.

Only the man-who-might-be-Buck turns around fully, and Eddie takes off at a run. He plows into him, half pinning Marnie between them, wrapping one arm tightly around his waist to pull him into a tight, tight, tight hug.

“Buck, oh my god,” Eddie says into his wet sleeve. “Oh my god, thank God, thank God.”

“Eddie?” Buck says, startled. “M- Marnie?”

“Dad?” Marnie’s voice is shaky, ragged from crying.

“Marnie!” says Buck. He finally hugs back, one arm around Marnie and the other around Eddie’s shoulders. “How – what –“

“You’re alive,” Eddie says.

--

Buck is stunned.

He’s still not certain he isn’t imagining things as Eddie slides away. He sets Marnie on the ground so she can keep clinging to Buck, little arms wrapped tightly around his waist. But Marnie can’t be here, how is Marnie here? How did Eddie have her?

“Eddie,” Buck says again. “Ed, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I lost Chris.”

“What?” says Eddie. He looks genuinely confused, but he’s still grinning. “God, Buck, you’re alive. Why are you sorry?”

“Because I lost your son!” Buck says. He is increasingly convinced that he actually passed out and is imagining this whole thing.

“God, Buck,” Eddie says, that smile finally faltering, “I – I know. But I’ve spent the last hour certain I’d lost both of you. So give me a minute to be relieved you’re alive.”

“How –“

But Eddie isn’t looking at him. Something over Buck’s shoulder has caught his eye, and he’s moving away before Buck can ask where he’s going. Buck turns to track his motion.

“Eddie?” Marnie calls after him.

But Buck sees, now, what had caught his eye.

“Christopher!” Eddie says, picking up speed as he approaches a child who’s just been helped out of – is that a mail truck Chim was driving?

“Dad?” Chris’s unmistakable little voice replies.

“Christopher!” Eddie says again. He sweeps over and drops to one knee, pulling Chris into his arms. The woman who’d helped him down says something to Eddie, who looks back at Buck and Marnie with wide-eyed wonder as he answers, too quiet for Buck to hear.

“Chris,” Marnie says. She slips away from Buck, darting after Eddie.

This can’t be real, Buck thinks. He’d lost the kids, and now he’s hallucinating. He wobbles a little, and Hen and Bobby appear out of nowhere to catch him when the wobble becomes something a little closer to collapsing.

Eddie draws Marnie into his hug with Christopher, pressing kisses to both of their heads just above the ear one after the other. He’s clinging tight, tight, tight again, and it’s the only thing about all of this that feels real: the visible, obvious relief in Eddie’s entire body that the kids are in front of him, alive.

“- bleeding?” Hen’s voice is saying near Buck’s right ear.

“What?” Buck replies.

“I said how long have you been bleeding?” Hen repeats, patiently concerned.

Buck tears his eyes away from Eddie and the kids. “What?”

“Buck,” Hen says, some of the patience falling away as the concern sharpens, “you know that you’re bleeding, right?”

“I – sort of?” Buck says. He glances down at his arm, which does certainly look worse than the last time he paid it any attention, streaked with blood and grime and a little sticky with dried seawater. All of him is streaked with blood and grime and sticky from dry seawater, though. His arm isn’t special.

Hm.

He might be a little delirious, actually.

“I don’t feel so great,” he admits, which is all the warning Hen gets before he tips over into her. All of the adrenaline that’s been keeping him going all day has left him, leaving him achy and tired and a little woozy.

The kids are alive and safe and mostly whole, so Buck can fall apart now. Hen’s here, she’ll put him back together.

The rest of the night is a blur.

Buck gets looked over by Hen and then a nurse and then a doctor, and eventually he goes home. Maddie picks him up, and Marnie and Eddie and Christopher come with them.

They drop Eddie and Chris at home first. Buck twists to watch them walk into the house, Eddie carrying Chris since it’s been a long, long day and his crutches are somewhere in the Pacific. There’s a sinking in Buck’s chest, watching Eddie and Chris walk away, because he knows that Eddie will probably never trust him with Christopher again.

He knows he doesn’t know how to trust himself ever again. He’d lost the kids, spent hours certain they were both dead. He couldn’t take care of them, couldn’t do the one thing he was still supposed to be able to handle.

He’s tempted to drop Marnie off with Athena and disappear forever, honestly, which is one of those thoughts he knows better than to express out loud because it’ll make Maddie worry.

Anyway, Buck is too selfish to do that, even if it would probably be better for Marnie in the long run. He’s never liked being separated from Marnie for long periods, but especially today, especially after thinking he’d lost her for good, he knows he won’t be able to let her out of his sight.

He falls asleep with Marnie curled next to him. He lays there watching her breathe, the slow, steady rise and fall of her little chest, until he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

--

When Eddie lets himself and Christopher into Buck’s house the next morning, he has a moment of sheer panic.

The house is dark and quiet. The Buckleys are both early risers by nature, and even if Buck hasn’t always been up for it lately, Marnie is usually up and moving by now. It’s rarely silent in this house.

He leaves Chris in the living room, striding down the hall toward Marnie’s bedroom. Just to check in. Just to be certain nothing else has happened overnight.

Marnie’s bedroom is empty. Her bed is unmade, the blankets askew, and her plush pangolin Scales is missing.

Eddie takes a few slow, intentional breaths as he walks across the hall to Buck’s room. He can’t panic that she’s gone until he’s checked everywhere. And, realistically, after the day they had yesterday there’s another obvious place she might’ve spent the night. Eddie opens the door as quietly as he can. Buck is on his side, turned away from the door and curled in on himself. Peeking over him, though, is Marnie. She’s awake, watching Eddie from the bed with Scales clutched tightly in her arms.

“Hey, Peanut,” Eddie says, trying not to let his relief creep into his voice because he doesn’t want Marnie to know he was worried. It feels, almost immediately upon seeing her here in Buck’s bed, absurd to have even expected her to be anywhere else.

“Hi Eddie,” Marnie replies very softly.

“Dad still asleep?” Eddie asks. Marnie nods, and Eddie crosses the room, rounding the bed to perch next to her. He holds his arms out for her to crawl in for a hug. “Christopher is in the living room; I think I saw him going for that puzzle you’ve been working on together.”

“I don’t want Daddy to wake up by himself,” Marnie says, still so so soft.

“I’ll wake him, baby,” Eddie says. He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I want to talk to him about something anyway.”

Marnie nods again and slips out of his arms. She pauses by the bedside for a moment, considering.

She leans over and tucks Scales under her father’s arm before walking out of the room.

Eddie waits until he hears her and Chris start to talk, little voices floating down the hall, to shake Buck awake.

Buck startles from a deep-looking sleep to fully awake almost immediately, glancing around for Marnie in a panic until he realizes she’s left him Scales. And then, a little more slowly, Eddie sees Buck realize that Eddie is here, perched on the side of his bed, and that Chris’s voice is audible down the hall.

“Eddie?” Buck says. “What are you doing here?”

“Carla’s still out of town,” Eddie replies, forcing himself to sound casual. That’s the only way he’ll get through this. “And you still don’t have anything better to do than hang out with elementary schoolers.”

“Eddie,” Buck says again, sounding pained. “You can’t honestly want to leave Christopher with me again after what happened yesterday.”

“A natural disaster happened,” says Eddie.

“I lost him,” says Buck. “I lost both of them. I – I don’t trust me with my kid, I don’t know why you would.”

“You saved him,” Eddie says firmly. “That’s how he remembers it. That’s all he would tell me about it. His Buck saved him, and a dozen other people.”

“Eddie –“

“You spent hours yesterday looking for him,” Eddie plows on. “Even when you could’ve given up. You think you’ve failed him? Failed both of them? Sure, maybe. But I’ve failed Chris a million times – the part that matters, Buck, is that you love them enough to never stop trying.”

Buck sits up fully, but only to put his head in his hands. Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder, ducking his head until he can meet Buck’s eye.

“Buck,” Eddie says, “there is no one in this world who I trust with my son more than you.”

“I –“ says Buck, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Neither do I,” admits Eddie. “But I do know – and I know you know too – that parenting feels like that a lot of the time. There’s always another thing around the corner I have no idea how to manage. But we keep figuring it out on the fly, because –“

“We love them enough to try,” Buck finishes, quiet.

“Exactly,” says Eddie. He stands, patting Buck once more on the shoulder as he does. “Now, get moving. You’ve got kids to entertain and probably about twenty minutes before they come in here looking for snacks.”

“Eddie –“

“And, hey, maybe an inland activity today?” Eddie says as lightly as possible, like yesterday – the fact that Buck and the kids had almost died, the fact that Eddie hadn’t known until it was well past too late – isn’t haunting him.

Buck nods, a little shaky.

It takes all of Eddie’s willpower to leave Buck’s house. Not that he doesn’t trust Buck with Christopher – he does, he’d meant exactly what he said – but because he doesn’t want to let any of them out of his line of sight.

It’s going to be a long few weeks of trying to figure out how to move forward from this.

--

It’s rare that Buck goes for dinner at Athena and Bobby’s house without Marnie, but tonight he’s on a mission.

He knows the brass are holding him back from returning to work over the blood thinners, but he figures that if he can get Bobby to argue in his favor he’ll be back at work in no time. He feels better than he has in months, in tip-top shape and having set records recertifying. There shouldn’t be anything holding him back.

And Bobby should be in a good position to make a case for him.

Only –

Only.

“I’m sure that after the tsunami you’re feeling like you’re on top of the world,” Bobby says, “but there’s no shame in taking your time with –“

“Bobby,” Buck cuts in, sharp and hurt. “I’m fine! I’m – I’m better than I have been in ages. I passed my requal with fucking flying colors! And – and yeah, the tsunami. Even on the blood thinners, you know what I did? I –“ he takes a breath, tries to remember that this is talk yourself up time and not time to air his own reservations, “I saved like fifteen people. Pulled them out of the water on my own. I am good, Bobby.”

“Well, I’m responsible for you,” Bobby says. “And I am responsible for everyone else on our team, and if something happens –“

“God, that is such bullshit,” says Buck. “I’m a grown fucking adult, Bobby –“

“– just until you’re off the medication –“

“I can do the job now –“

“Buck!” Bobby snaps. “I cannot be responsible for my kid dying again!”

Buck freezes. “What.”

“I can’t,” Bobby says, “I can’t be responsible for another one of my kids dying.”

“Bobby,” Buck says.

“You don’t have to like it,” says Bobby. “But I’ve already thought I was watching you die twice, and I’ve lost two kids already to my own failures. I can’t lose you, too.”

“You can’t take that out on me,” Buck says, getting sharper with every word. “You can’t – you can’t say you love me like a son and then in the same breath tell me you’re holding me back from one of the only things that makes my life worth fucking anything because you’re afraid.”

Athena puts a hand on his wrist. Buck glances at her. Takes a breath.

“Bobby,” Buck says, a little steadier, “you know how much firefighting means to me.”

“There will still be a place for you at the 118 when you’re healthy,” Bobby says. “There will always be a place for you at the 118. But, Buck, there is so much more to life – to your life – than this job, and I can’t watch you risk the rest of it for the sake of getting back to work just a little bit sooner.”

Buck exhales harshly through his nose. “I am healthy. And I am the one who got – got a fucking truck dropped on him. I am the one who had that embolism. I am the one who got thrown into a goddamn tsunami. I don’t know why –“

“Buck,” Athena cuts in. It’s the first thing she’s said in a while. “That isn’t how this works.”

“What?”

“That isn’t how this works,” Athena repeats firmly. “The people who love you, who had to watch all of those things happen and nearly lose you over and over, are also affected by what happened. Which I know that you know, even if you’re pretending you don’t.”

“Athena,” Buck says, pleading, “this isn’t – this – fine! Fine, I know. I know that you’re all – all traumatized by my near-death experiences. But this still isn’t – it’s not fair.” Then, quieter. “It’s not fair.”

“Oh, baby,” says Athena, glancing at her husband, “I know. But you’re a parent, you know it’s hard to be rational when your kid is hurting.”

Buck sighs. “Yeah, well. I don’t really appreciate the first time I’m being told he feels that way about me being over this.”

Athena chuckles. “You didn’t know already?”

“I – hoped,” says Buck. He looks back at Bobby. “Look, I love you. I love both of you. You know better than almost anyone that my parents were – well. You know. But that doesn’t – that’s not – this is, like, exactly why the LAFD prefers to separate families, you know? I –“ He taps his fingers against the tabletop. “I’m going to go home.”

“Buck,” Bobby says, almost pleading.

“No,” says Buck. “I’m going to go home so I don’t – so I don’t say something – God, Bobby, I am so – I am so fucking mad at you right now. I’m so mad at you. So I’m going to go home so I don’t ruin my life any more than it already has been.”

He gets up and turns to leave, but pauses next to Athena.

“Sorry,” he says to her, quiet.

“Love you,” she replies. Apparently, they’re just saying that now. Might as well.

“Love you, too,” Buck promises.

He’s almost to the door when he hears Athena’s voice again, quiet but audible.

“Now what, exactly, were you expecting would happen?”

“I don’t know,” Bobby replies, even quieter. “I really don’t.”

Buck leaves.

He doesn’t go home, because Marnie is at Eddie’s tonight and frankly, he thinks he shouldn’t be left alone with his thoughts.

Eddie doesn’t ask what’s wrong right away.

He lets Buck storm into the house. Lets him flop onto the couch and stare down at his hands in silence, running fingertips along the worn edge of the cushion, focused on the texture until he can catch his breath. Lets him down too much of the beer Eddie hands him in one go.

Then, eventually: “So, I take it dinner with Bobby and Athena didn’t go so great.”

Buck could almost laugh at his casual tone. He probably would, if he were even a fraction less upset.

“You could say that,” Buck grits out.

“Hm,” Eddie says.

“It was a shitshow,” says Buck.

“That’s unusual,” Eddie replies, mild.

“Yeah, well,” Buck says, “apparently Bobby was the one to block me from coming back over the blood thinners. So.”

Eddie tilts his head, looking not quite surprised. “He’s afraid you’ll get hurt again.”

It isn’t a question.

“Yeah, which is bullshit,” snaps Buck.

“I mean, can you blame him, really?” Eddie says. “Not for blocking you – that is bullshit – but for being afraid? He loves you. And, uh, as someone else who loves you, I can tell you firsthand that it’s hard not to be afraid for you, lately. Doesn’t mean he’s handling it the best way, but –“

He shrugs.

“But you want me back at work, right?” Buck asks, suddenly uncertain.

“God, of course I do,” says Eddie. “Every fucking day. Crazy, dangerous shit happens everywhere all the time. You were caught up in a tsunami with our kids two weeks ago. Shannon – Shannon died crossing the street. At least when you’re at work I can be there to watch your back.”

“Why couldn’t Bobby see it that way, huh?”

“Well, he loves you like a parent,” Eddie says, gentle. “Can you imagine if it were you, having to make a call like this about Marnie? About Chris?”

Buck swallows, a little nauseous even just at the thought.

“It would be – difficult,” Buck admits. “But I like to think I’d do what was best for them, and not for me.”

“I’m sure we’d all like to think that,” says Eddie. “But at the end of the day, it’s probably harder than it sounds. Give him time, Buck. He’ll come around. He wants you back. We all do.”

“If you’re sure,” says Buck.

“I’m sure, Buck,” Eddie promises. “I’m sure.”

They finish their beers. Buck stands to leave and Eddie catches him by the wrist.

“Your kid’s here,” he points out, “you’ll just come back in the morning. Stay the night.”

“Sleeping on the couch would fuck my leg, I think,” Buck admits, reluctant.

“Then share with me,” says Eddie.

So Buck does.

--

Eddie has a buzz under his skin that he doesn’t know what to do with.

He thinks he knows why – he’s spent months shoving everything as far down as possible, and he’s running out of rugs to shove his inconvenient feelings under. It’s all trying to burst out of him.

There just hasn’t been a good time to let himself feel any of it.

Shannon asked for a divorce, and he’d been upset, not quite angry but not quite anything else. But before he really had time to deal with that, talk to her or make peace with it, she’d died.

So Eddie couldn’t be angry with Shannon. And he had to hold it together, couldn’t fall apart from grief, because Christopher needed him to be strong and collected and grounding.

And then, almost immediately, the bomb. Buck had almost died, too, and it had shaken Eddie badly. But, again, he needed to keep himself under control. Christopher and Marnie needed him to be steady; they were taking cues from the adults around them to understand how afraid they should be, and Eddie didn’t want them afraid. Buck was alive, and he would be alright, so Eddie had to be calm.

And even when the kids weren’t around, Eddie had to keep it together. Buck spent the summer feeling lost and frustrated and lonely, he needed Eddie to help him feel grounded and steady. At the station, Eddie felt like he couldn’t be the most torn up about what happened or Buck’s absence, because the others had all known Buck longer, because Bobby was dealing with the guilt of feeling like it was his fault, because Chim had technically been responsible for Buck at the time. So he had to keep his head on straight at work.

Then, right as things were starting to feel like they might be manageable again, and maybe with Buck back at work he could give himself a little space, the fucking embolism. In the moment, Eddie’s priority had to be the kids. And even after, he’d spent days trying to reassure Christopher that Buck wasn’t about to just drop dead.

When the tsunami hit, at first, Eddie was fine, actually. Cool collected and professional. And then he’d found Marnie, and he’d known what that meant, but he couldn’t freak out. Couldn’t fall to pieces. Had to keep holding his best friend’s baby in his arms and try not to cry.

Even the relief he’d felt when they found Buck and then Chris had felt like too much; Buck still needed him to be a steady presence, the kids still needed him to be calm and rational.

And now this thing with Bobby – Eddie would be pissed on Buck’s behalf (and his own, for having to work without Buck still when he’s really, actually good to come back and the only thing that might soothe some of the anxious buzz he can’t shake would be being able to see Buck moving and alive) but Buck needs him to be rational. Bobby needs Eddie to be rational.

There’s an electric buzz under his skin, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. Can’t shake it. But if he doesn’t find an outlet soon it’s all going to come exploding out of him.

He finds an outlet.

Or, more specifically, Lena offers him an outlet.

He throws a punch over a guy being an asshole in a parking lot, is the thing. He throws a punch and he gets lightly arrested, and he feels like he can’t call Buck to bail him out because he’d have to explain that he feels like he’s about to shake apart with all the things he can’t let himself feel and he can’t call anyone else from the 118 because it would be mortifying. But Lena – who’s his temp partner until Buck is back and the 136 is safe to operate out of – is far enough from immediate family to feel safe to call, but friendly with him enough that it’s not entirely out of left field.

(Eddie is so fucking grateful that Athena wasn’t the one to respond to the incident, because there would be no keeping it quiet and there would be no living it down.)

And Lena also has shit she needs to shake out physically before it eats her alive, and clocks it in him before they’ve even made it back to Eddie’s car. And Lena knows a sketchy underground street fighting club, where she likes to blow off steam.

Eddie definitely needs to blow off some steam.

Buck notices, of course.

They spend a lot of time together, is the thing. They already did, because Buck is Eddie’s best friend and Marnie is Christopher’s, but now that they’re all fighting nightmares after Buck and the kids almost died together they’ve been borderline inseparable. And that’s before Buck comes back to work in late October, just in time for Halloween.

So Buck notices. He notices that Eddie is stiff and won’t take off his shirt in the goddamn glass locker room anymore, notices the bruises no one else ever seems to get close enough to see.

He also notices the new truck.

He should have known that there would be no keeping this from Buck.

“What is going on with you?” he says. They’re at Buck’s house, and it’s late, the kids already tucked in for the night in Marnie’s room. Buck has Eddie cornered in the kitchen.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie replies, tight.

Buck waves his hand across Eddie. “You’re tense. You’re skittish. You keep – keep disappearing nights we aren’t working, like you think I won’t notice that you’re always making excuses to be somewhere else, even when Christopher is here. And I haven’t seen you change at work since I got back.”

“What, you disappointed?” says Eddie, focused on the part he can turn back around on Buck with a passable attempt at a teasing tone.

“The first time I ever saw you, you were shirtless,” Buck says, rolling his eyes. “You’ve never been shy before, which means you’re hiding something. I’m guessing an injury, although I can’t think of where you would’ve gotten hurt. And I cant think of why you wouldn’t tell me about it.”

“Well, maybe I’m just working through shit,” Eddie grits out. He doesn’t meet Buck’s eye.

“That’s usually easier with a friend,” Buck says, and it’s gentle, but then – “Shit, wait, Eddie, are you just sleeping around? Because I swear to God, if I got this freaked out over you just having a Buck 1.0 moment –“

“What?” says Eddie. “What? No?”

“No?” Buck echoes.

“No,” Eddie repeats. “That’s not – I’m – no.”

“Then what’s going on?”

Eddie tips his head back, looking at the ceiling to keep avoiding Buck’s eye. “I’m – I may have been – fighting?”

“Fighting,” Buck repeats.

“Fighting,” Eddie agrees. “Like, physically.”

“At a gym?” Buck prompts, hopeful.

“In more of a sketchy, street fight club kind of setting,” Eddie admits.

“Eddie,” Buck says, and it’s almost painfully soft. Eddie finally looks at him.

“I don’t know what else to do,” Eddie says, because now that he’s started he can’t make himself shut up. “The last six months have been such a shitshow, and everyone needs me to have it together all the time and I feel like I’m going to explode. So I, uh, found my way to this and I’m good at it. And I still kind of feel like I’m going to explode, but – but less, maybe.”

“God, Ed,” says Buck. He hops up on the counter, hands planted on either side of his thighs. “I’ve been so worried about you. I think I’m more worried, now.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, tired. “Me, too.”

“When you said everybody needs you to have it together,” Buck says, tilted up like it’s a question.

“Christopher, Marnie, the team,” Eddie rattles off, then pauses. “You.”

“Eddie –“

“No, it’s not – it’s not something I’m upset with you for, okay? But you can’t deny that you’ve needed somebody to have their head on straight,” says Eddie. “You needed me, after the bomb and the embolism and the tsunami and Bobby’s overprotective parent moment. I couldn’t be falling apart.”

“We can take turns, you know,” says Buck. “You have my back when I’m spiraling about work, and I have yours when you’re spiraling about…?”

Eddie shrugs. “Shannon. All the times you almost died. The kids almost dying.”

“Exactly.”

“I couldn’t put that on you, Buck,” Eddie says.

“So you found a sketchy illegal fighting ring instead?” says Buck.

“Yeah. What else was I going to do about it?”

“I don’t know, talk to someone?” Buck says. “Anyone. Bobby, Hen? A therapist? Me?”

“I can’t explain this to the team,” says Eddie. “And I didn’t want to put anything else on your plate.”

“Therapy, then,” Buck insists. “I haven’t had the best experience, but that was definitely a fluke. We can find you a therapist who doesn’t want to have super unethical sex with you.”

“Sorry, what?” says Eddie, startled.

“Don’t worry about it,” Buck says, like he always does when he drops some deeply unsettling or heartbreaking piece of his history into conversation. “The point is, I bet we could find someone who could help you wrap your head around this stuff without getting the shit beat out of you in the street.”

“I’ve been winning,” Eddie points out.

“You’re definitely hiding injuries,” says Buck. “I’m not taking it back.”

“Fine,” says Eddie. “I’ll look into it.”

--

A-Shift is working on Christmas Day.

There’s no way around it; someone has to do it and this year it’s their turn. Buck just wishes it had fallen on a less eventful year.

It had broken his heart to say no when Christopher asked if he could spend Christmas with Buck and Marnie. Chris is obviously down about it – not that Marnie isn’t, of course, but last Christmas was such a big, exciting high point for Chris, only for things to go very very wrong in the intervening months.

Buck wants to help – wishes there were something he could do about it. But he can’t.

“Can’t you?” Athena says.

“I mean, no?” says Buck. “I can’t change the shifts, and even if I could get coverage, I’d have to pay it back eventually. Next Christmas, or some other holiday. I wish I could just bring everyone’s families to the station, even just for a meal, but –“

He looks up at her, sharp. She’s grinning in that knowing way she has, like she was just waiting for him to put the pieces together.

“Athena,” Buck says, serious, “do you think you could help me organize a Christmas party at the station with everyone’s families? Maddie is on shift, but – but I bet most everybody else could swing it.”

“I think we could make that happen,” says Athena.

“This year has been so shit,” Buck says. “It’s been so shit. Doug, then Eddie’s wife, and the bombs, and the embolism, and the tsunami, and the ambulance accident, and this thing with Bobby – we need the win, you know? So thank you. If we can pull this off, I think it’ll make everybody’s year, not that the bar’s super high.”

“This does not mean that you and your sweet baby girl are getting out of family Christmas dinner on the 26^th, though,” Athena says, playfully serious.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, ‘Thena,” Buck assures her. “That said – are you sure you’re good to take Marnie for Christmas Day?”

“Of course, honey,” says Athena. “She’s no trouble at all, and we’d still host her even if she were. And anyway, you’ve been storing all of Santa’s presents here all this time, it’d be a pain to move them.”

Buck laughs. “Thank you, Athena. Thank you so much.”

It’s almost painful to keep the secret. Every time Hen gets that melancholy look, any time Eddie mentions Chris at work, any time Buck feels the urge to check in on Bobby’s health – it’s always on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out. But he’s not going to ruin the surprise.

And it’s worth it. It’s really worth it.

To come up the stairs to all of their families waiting, to see everyone’s surprise and then delight – it’s worth it.

And it wouldn’t be Athena if there weren’t one extra trick up her sleeve, a secret she’d kept even from Buck.

“I thought you were working!” Buck says, pulling Maddie into a tight hug.

She’s laughing, bright and easy, and it is amazing after the year they’ve had to see her look so genuinely happy. “I was! I am, actually. Athena told me about what you were planning, and I convinced someone to trade me for a later shift.”

“Thank you,” Buck says. “Thank you, thank you. I’m so glad you could make it.”

Maddie’s smile softens. “I’m glad, too.”

“This is my best Christmas in years,” says Buck. “All of my family is in one place, and it’s one of my favorite places in the world.” He turns away from Maddie, toward where Marnie is sitting with Christopher and Eddie, all three of them talking animatedly. “You know, last year was Marnie’s first Christmas with any family but me? And now, we’ve got – we’ve got so much.”

Maddie’s eyes are glistening with unshed tears. “I’m so glad you found this, Evan.”

Buck hooks his arm around her shoulders again, tucking her against his side. “We found it.”

Chapter Text

Despite everything, 2019 ends on a high note. It bodes well for 2020.

And, honestly, the whole thing starts stronger than last year – they make it well into March before anything starts to go wrong. Not that Chim’s little brother showing up out of the blue is something going wrong, exactly, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s going well.

Buck, who has a guest room, offers to take Albert in at least until Chim cools off. Chim does not have a guest room, so there’s a reasonable chance that Buck will keep Albert even if and when Chim does cool off.

It’s a little bit strange, actually. Albert is – young. He’s substantially younger than Chimney, and really only a little bit younger than Buck, but he feels young. Maybe it’s that Buck feels kind of old, actually, despite not yet scraping thirty. He had burned bright and hot and fast those first few years out of Hershey, and now that he’s been a firefighter for a while and a dad for a while longer, he’s settled. Calmer.

Albert isn’t that much younger than Buck, but he’s still firmly in the aimless, wandering part of his twenties that Buck left behind a while ago.

He’s also a fascinating, if heartbreaking, insight into Chimney’s own childhood. They weren’t children together – and they wouldn’t have been even if they’d been closer in age – and every story of Albert’s about growing up smothered is countered by one of Chimney’s about being left behind.

Buck is, absently, grateful that his terrible parents just disliked him. He can’t imagine living under pressure to be good enough. He’d always known he wouldn’t be, so there wasn’t really pressure to try. All of them were pretty well aware that they were mostly just waiting for the whole thing to be over with by the time Buck was a teenager, and he hadn’t spoken a single word to his parents since he left.

(Buck hadn’t even been the one to call them when Doug tried to kill Maddie. He got Bobby to do it, and he wasn’t even in the room to know how Bobby explained his relationship to Maddie. He can’t imagine I’m the only father worth a damn your son has ever had would’ve gone over well.)

Anyway, Buck has Albert, at least for the moment, and Buck also has Chimney’s intense irritation for taking Albert, even though the kid needed somewhere to sleep.

Buck doesn’t mind. He’s a good kid, if a little sheltered, and he seems to really want to get to know his big brother. Buck can relate to being the much, much younger sibling, although at least he and Maddie had a relationship. Albert barely knows Chim.

It’s also kind of funny to watch him try to figure out how to interact with Marnie. It’s clear that he hasn’t spent much time with little kids, awkward and uncertain. Marnie, once she’s warmed up to him, doesn’t seem to notice or care, delighted to have someone else to boss around through a game of – astronauts, it sounds like? Or maybe pirate-astronauts, which has been popular lately.

All in all, Buck doesn’t mind hosting Albert, but he’s grateful when Chimney comes around and he moves onto Chim’s couch, not because he doesn’t want him here but because he thinks both of them deserve a chance to actually be brothers. Buck knows from personal experience how great a big brother Chimney can be, and he thinks Albert needs that almost as much as Buck did when he started at the 118. And Chim – Chim deserves all the loving family he can possibly get.

Two days after Albert has been moved out of Buck’s house, Christopher has a nasty fall at school.

Buck gets the story in bits and pieces. From Eddie, who’s furious with the teacher on recess duty for not intervening fast enough, and with himself for not knowing how to set Christopher up with reasonable expectations without making him feel like he isn’t capable. From Marnie, who’d watched it happen from across the playground and said that Chris looked really excited before he fell, and he didn’t even cry. From Christopher himself, who is disheartened that Eddie’s you can do anything was over-optimistic and embarrassed for falling in front of his friends.

Eddie has a hard conversation with Chris about limits – not just his, but everyone’s. Buck gets the rundown on that, too. It breaks his heart to hear how down Chris has been about the whole thing, how he’d just wanted to try something new and had been bitten by it. Buck’s had his share of that.

He presents Eddie with a plan. He doesn’t want to make any promises to Chris until it’s officially Dad-approved, after all, and when Eddie finally fully absorbs what Buck is explaining, he throws his arms around Buck’s waist in a tight, tight hug.

“Thank you,” he breathes into the sleeve of Buck’s hoodie.

Buck’s arms settle a little more loosely around Eddie’s shoulders. “Any time, Ed. I mean it. I love that kid.”

Eddie steps back. “I know you do. Now let’s build this crazy thing.”

The day they introduce Christopher to the harness rig they’d built for him will be burned into Buck’s brain forever.

He’s waiting at the park with Carla, the two of them having gone ahead to get the whole thing out of the car and set up. Eddie is picking the kids up from school.

Buck can see the exact moment that the whole thing clicks for Chris, and his whole face lights up. Next to him, Marnie lights up, too, throwing an arm around him in delight the same way that Buck does to Eddie when he gets excited. She’s learned to be careful not to put too much weight into it, so they don’t both go toppling over.

Buck brought her roller skates and gear, too, so that she can skate along next to Christopher on his skateboard. It’s a great afternoon, full of laughter and excitement and ending in a picnic with both kids still in safety gear because they were too delighted to take it off.

“Christopher!” Marnie cheers, waving her crustless PB & Nothing at him (her term, not Buck’s). “You looked so cool!”

Chris beams. “Thanks, Mar.”

“Did you see me go backwards?” Marnie chirps.

“I saw you crash into Dad,” Chris replies, giggling.

“Yeah, but like, before,” says Marnie.

“It was pretty cool,” Chris admits.

“Maybe almost as cool as your skateboard,” Marnie replies.

Chris’s grin brightens even more. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I can’t believe our dads built that whole thing for you!” says Marnie. “That’s so awesome.”

“We’ve got pretty good dads,” Chris says, a little softer. He glances over Marnie’s shoulder at the adults, who are watching with fond amusement.

“And Carla,” Marnie adds, serious.

“And Carla,” Chris agrees. “But we knew that.”

Marnie giggles.

Carla sends Buck the photos from that afternoon later in the evening. It’s a series of slightly chaotic moments of pure happiness, and it’s hard to know which ones to print and hang up in the house. In the end, he picks the one he keeps circling back to: Buck has a hand on the support frame helping Chris steer, while Eddie and Marnie are a foot or so behind holding hands for Marnie’s balance on her skates, all four of them with huge, matching grins. Christopher is the only one looking toward the camera, a delighted look what I’m doing in his eyes. Marnie is watching him, just as delighted and excited for him. Buck is looking at Christopher, too, a look of something like awe on his face. Eddie is a step or so ahead of Marnie, but turned back to look at her with a fondness in his gaze that makes Buck’s chest feel a little fuzzy.

He prints two, frames both, and wraps one in penguin wrapping paper to eventually gift to Eddie.

He tries not to think too hard about why he loves it so much.

--

Eddie doesn’t want to die today.

He doesn’t want to die any day soon, which maybe hasn’t always been true but is certainly true now. He’s very aware of it, buried dozens of feet underground with no real hope of getting out. He doesn’t want to die.

He’s going to, though.

They’d responded to a call about a lost child, who’d turned out to have fallen into a well on his family’s property. Hayden. He’s Marnie’s age, and small for it. He’d fallen probably forty feet before getting wedged, and had been slipping further.

The well was too small for an adult to follow him down, so they’d dug in next to it, and then Eddie had been sent down to dig across. He’d been sent with oxygen and a timer, to be pulled up in thirty, ready or not.

He wasn’t ready. Cut his line, because he’d had Hayden in his hands before they started pulling back on him. He’d cut his line and gotten the kid out, because he’d never have forgiven himself if he didn’t. He knew they’d send someone else down.

He’d assumed it would be Buck.

It wasn’t, though. Eddie had handed Hayden off to Chimney and gotten a quip about staying put in return. Of course, Eddie didn’t get a lot of choice in the matter, given that about two minutes after Chim had disappeared from his line of sight, there’d been a flash of light on the surface so bright Eddie could see it from down here, and then their hole had filled in with a rush of mud and freezing water.

Eddie doesn’t want to die down here.

Christopher has already lost one parent. He cannot let him lose another. Especially since –

Fuck.

Especially since if Eddie dies, his parents will waste no fucking time swooping in and taking Christopher back to Texas. They probably won’t even let Eddie be buried here, or memorialized, if they aren’t able to dig his body up from the mud. He’ll have a grave in El Paso, far from Shannon’s and from the people who love him most, save Chris.

And God, that’s worst-case scenario. Eddie ran all the way to another city, two states away, to keep his parents from raising Chris. From taking Chris. And not only would they get their way and finally get to raise his son like the do-over child they’ve always wanted him to be – and God willing, they’d at least do better with Christopher than they did with any of their own children, but Eddie can’t know that they would – but they’d be taking him away from his friends and his family. From the support system that got him through losing Shannon.

They’d take him from Buck and from Marnie, and not even think anything of it.

Eddie is struck, sharply and violently, by the realization that he and Buck have built a family together. He’s struck just as sharply by the fact that it’s so fucking fragile.

Buck has become, in the just-shy-of-two years they’ve known each other, the most stable, present adult in Christopher’s life beside Eddie himself. Eddie knows, though he’s never really thought about it, that he is the same to Marnie. They make plans as a unit, the rest of the 118 treat them like a unit, even Maddie never seems to be surprised when Chris and Eddie tag along with Buck and Marnie for dinner or outings. It didn’t happen on purpose, but it was also completely natural that it happened this way.

Buck parents Marnie the same way Eddie parents Chris. They have the same values, the same focus. They both come at parenting with the same not like my parents raised me mindset, even if the exact shape of it is different. They love their own kids, obviously, but they also love each other’s kids. And topping that off, Buck is the best friend Eddie has ever had in his life. It was a no-brainer that they’d end up parenting as a team.

But none of that is official. None of it is legal. Christopher and Marnie love each other and look out for each other and cling to each other when things go wrong, but they aren’t siblings. Buck isn’t Chris’s father any more than Eddie is Marnie’s. And normally that doesn’t matter, except –

Except that Eddie is going to die down here, and his parents are going to take Christopher away from the only two people in the world who could even begin to help him get through it. The only two people in the world who would really, truly be going through it with him.

Eddie can’t die down here. He can’t. He can’t die when Chris would go back to the house and the parents that made Eddie, not when he knows, deep down, that everything else aside they just wouldn’t bring Christopher up the way Eddie wants him raised. Christopher deserves better than that. He deserves patience and understanding and room to grow, love that won’t shift or change because he isn’t what someone else wants him to be.

Eddie can’t die down here.

He follows the flow of water, hoping against hope that it’ll lead him toward a way to the surface.

And – miracle of miracles – it does.

He is sopping wet and freezing, wind still blowing hard across his wet clothes even though the rain has subsided. He follows light and sound toward the worksite.

“- infrared camera, to get a heat scan of the area,” someone is saying as he approaches.

Eddie stumbles up behind the frame he knows better than anyone’s, one hand coming up to brush against Buck’s arm as he starts to speak.

“That’ll be difficult,” he says, “I’m pretty cold.”

Buck whips around. “Eddie?”

He sounds wrecked. He’s also, Eddie realizes as he sways into Buck’s arms, almost as wet and muddy as Eddie himself, somehow.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, ragged.

Then it’s ambulance to hospital to station to home, all with Buck pressed as close as he can be, looking at Eddie like he’s going to disappear right before his eyes.

He gets David to swing Marnie over to the Diaz house and calls both kids out of school for the day, setting Eddie up on the couch surrounded by children and blankets and the shared Buckley-Diaz Disney+ account on TV.

Buck flits and flutters in and out, not quite willing to sit and join Eddie and the kids on the couch, but not really willing to let Eddie out of his line of sight for too long.

The kids know something happened, but Eddie was half asleep when Buck explained it to them so his sense of how much they know or understand of it is foggy. The important part is that they understand that Eddie is/will be okay, even if the shift they’d come home from was scary and overwhelming.

“Daddy,” Marnie says, the sixth or seventh time Buck wanders in with a half-washed dish in his hands, “just come sit down.”

“I’m washing the dishes,” Buck replies. He’s looking at Eddie, though, like he can’t quite look away.

Marnie rolls her eyes, impatient. “Finish the dishes, then come sit down.”

“Yeah, Buck, you’re distracting us from the movie,” Christopher adds.

“I was going to run laundry,” Buck says, a little halfheartedly.

“You’ll feel better,” Chris says.

“You can even sit next to Eddie,” Marnie offers.

The thing is, Eddie is sure that the fluttering is helping Buck, at least a little. He always needs to be doing something with his hands after something happened, and puttering around the house getting stuff done where he’s close enough to check that Eddie is still here and also breathing is probably the best way he can think to do it. Still –

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie says. His voice still sounds pretty rough. “Come sit.”

So Buck does. Well, he finishes the pan he’d been halfheartedly scrubbing, and then comes to join them. Marnie slides over to let him wedge in between her and Eddie. Eddie feels Buck sigh, already a little more settled, but can see that his hands are still fussing with the blankets and with Marnie’s fluffy curls.

Eddie frees a hand from the blanket to fish Buck’s phone out from where it’s wedged between them and hand it to him. The case has a fine, raised texture on the sides that he likes to run his fingers over when he’s stressed. Eddie is pretty sure that’s why he got that phone case.

“Oh,” Buck breathes, looking at Eddie with that same quiet disbelief again. “Thanks.”

Buck gets the kids ready for bed that night, insisting that Eddie should rest and then eventually allowing him to hang out for teeth brushing and story time as long as he stays in his blanket burrito. They are no strangers to the impromptu sleepover; Marnie has had a Blue’s Clues toothbrush and pajamas here for months, just like Chris has a toothbrush, pajamas, and clothes at the Buckleys’ house.

How it didn’t occur to Eddie sooner what he and Buck were doing is a mystery, truly.

But –

Eddie might have survived today, but it’s still so fucking fragile.

“Hey, Buck,” Eddie says, when bedtime is finished. Chris tucked into bed and Marnie into the child-sized air mattress that’s taken up semi-permanent residence in his bedroom.

“Yeah?” Buck replies, steering Eddie back onto the couch.

“What happens to Marnie, if you –“ Eddie chokes on the sentence, which surprises him. Usually words come easily, even hard ones. But the idea of Buck dying, even abstractly, makes his throat feel like it’s going to close up. “If something happened to you. Who – where would Marnie go?”

“Oh,” Buck says, soft. “Today got you thinking?”

Eddie nods, silent.

“She, uh, she goes to Athena,” says Buck. “Well, and Bobby, now. I did it before they were, um, official. I had a close call before Maddie moved here, and I ran to ‘Thena in a panic about what would’ve happened to Marnie if I’d died. Changed my will the next week.”

Changed his will. Right. Because you can do that – you can say exactly what you want for your child if you’re out of the picture. It doesn’t have to be the default of next-of-kin.

Eddie takes a deep breath. He can do that. He can make sure that Christopher stays here, in LA, with the people who love him most, in a totally normal and rational way. That’s great, because the only other option that’s occurred to him is a wild impulse to ask Buck to marry him, despite the simultaneous facts of them being straight and not in a romantic relationship with each other.

(They’re definitely in a non-romantic relationship with each other, whatever that counts for. Eddie has never been this involved with someone in his life, and he was married for almost eight years.)

Tomorrow, he’s going to have to call his lawyer. In the meantime, he settles heavier against Buck on the couch.

--

Buck knows that Eddie is mad at him for the stunt he pulled at the train derailment.

Buck also knows that Bobby is mad at him for the stunt he pulled at the train derailment. And Hen. And Chimney. And probably also Maddie, by now. Everyone is upset with him for not valuing his own life enough or whatever, but at the end of the day, he saved two lives when they thought they would only be able to save one.

He would’ve done it even if Abby weren’t there. Even if Abby hadn’t asked him to.

The Abby of it all is – separate.

(He would explain all of this to Eddie – would explain that he’d have done anything he could regardless of Abby, would explain that he’s feeling complicated about Abby being here in a way that almost makes him feel physically ill – but Eddie keeps taking these deep, heavy breaths when the topic comes up like he’s trying to keep himself calm, so Buck will try again later.)

Abby texts him, later. She wants to meet up, to talk.

Buck drops Marnie off at Maddie and Chim’s and doesn’t tell Eddie what he’s doing. He knows his best friend would talk him out of this, and he wants –

Not closure, exactly, because Buck closed that chapter ages ago without Abby’s help, but – accountability. He wants to look her in the eye and hear whatever it is that she thinks he needs to hear from her, because he wants to know.

He wants to know what she thinks she left behind. He wants to know why.

Not because he needs it to be happy so much as because he wants to know everything all the time, and he especially wants to know what parts of him have driven people away so he can carve them out of himself. Abby was important, the first real, grounded-feeling relationship he’d ever had, but in the grand scheme of his life she feels more like a warmup for the more important relationships that followed.

“I’m sorry that you found out this way,” Abby says.

“That’s what you’re sorry about?” Buck blurts, before he can construct the sentence in a less accusatory way.

“Buck,” she says, and it’s gentle in a way that makes Buck’s skin crawl.

“When did you know you weren’t coming back?” he asks, sharp. “When your texts started slowing down? When you stopped answering the phone? When you kissed me goodbye at the airport and told me you’d come home?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Abby says. “It was gradual. And then one day I looked up and realized that I was afraid to come back to LA, afraid of falling back into old patterns and becoming the person I was when I was here.”

“And I’m an old pattern?” says Buck. “Something that would make you forget.”

“Buck –“

“You’re engaged,” Buck says. “Sam – Sam seems like a nice guy. But you’re engaged, and it’s been – it’s – it’s been two years. Less. And you never even actually told me we were over. But you’re sorry this is how I found out.”

“Buck,” Abby says again.

Buck pauses, fully prepared to let her finish the sentence this time, but she doesn’t. She just looks at him.

“Right,” says Buck. He stands up. “I’m going to go. And for the record, this conversation is over, and I don’t intend to ever speak to you again. Just to avoid ambiguity.”

“Buck,” Abby says again, “I’m –“

“Nope,” says Buck. “Have a nice life.”

He goes to Bobby and Athena’s, after. He does not tell them about his conversation with Abby. In return, he does not get a (second) lecture about making irresponsible choices on the derailment site. Instead, Buck helps Bobby with the muffins he’s making, and they talk about the hockey playoffs. They all pretend politely that none of it has happened, and then Athena and Bobby both hug Buck extra tight on his way out.

It's a few days before Eddie finally lets Buck talk about the whole thing.

“I had to,” he says, desperate. “Not because of her, but – I knew that I could save both of them. And he has kids, Eddie. You know – you know.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, “I know.” He puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I just don’t want our kids to lose you because you’re so hung up on someone else’s.”

And then the alarms ring, and Buck has to spend an entire call with I don’t want our kids to lose you ringing in his ears. He forgets to tell Eddie about snapping at Abby entirely.

Then they’re at May’s graduation party, and Chim says, “Hey, how did your little meetup with Abby go? You never said.”

“When the fuck did you meet up with Abby?” Eddie says, more emphatic than Buck really thinks the situation deserves.

“Like, two days after the derailment,” says Buck. “Chris had Ethan V.’s birthday party, so I dropped Marnie with Maddie and Chim –“

“I would’ve taken her anyway,” Eddie interrupts.

“I know,” says Buck. His fingertips brush against Eddie’s forearm, placating. “She’d been asking for some Aunt Maddie time, anyway.”

“Right,” says Eddie. “So, Abby?”

“Well, it either went really bad or really good, depending how you look at it,” Buck says. He’s not meeting Eddie’s eye or Chim’s, fiddling with the bead necklace that May insisted he had to wear when he arrived. “She said she’s sorry that’s how I found out. And I lost it a little.”

“That’s what she’s sorry for?” Eddie says.

“That’s what I said,” Buck tells him. “And then a bunch of other, meaner things. But that was the gist.”

“Why even bother meeting up with her?” says Eddie. “She –“

“Because I had to know,” Buck cuts in, quiet. “I had to know, and now I do, okay? And I’m never going to fucking see her again, and I don’t want to.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, and Buck isn’t even really sure why. Eddie’s hand comes up to rest on Buck’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “I just – she hurt you.”

“I know.”

“You’re too forgiving, sometimes,” Eddie says. “Of people who hurt you.”

“I’m never going to see her again,” Buck says again, even softer.

“Good,” says Eddie. “Good riddance.”

Buck laughs.

--

Very slowly and then very quickly, the world shuts down in June.

Eddie has to make a hard choice, as a parent of a high-risk child and as a first responder: live with his son and put him at risk, or quarantine separately to keep him safe. It’s an easy decision, in the end, even if it breaks his heart.

Even easier is this:

“Tía,” he says, phone pressed between his cheek and his shoulder as he digs through Chris’s drawers. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you could handle one more kid?”

“And would that extra child be your Buck’s Marnie?” Pepa replies.

“You got it in one,” says Eddie. “Buck has been freaking out, because he really doesn’t have anyone to ask. His immediate family are all first responders, too, and his sister is apparently pregnant on top of that – I think he’s been talking to Bobby about taking a leave, but it wouldn’t really be sustainable –“

“Eddie,” Pepa cuts in. “Of course we can look after Marnie, too. We raised four children in this house, and they were far less behaved than Christopher and Marnie.”

“They’re always on their best behavior at your house, because they know you’ll spoil them,” Eddie says fondly.

“Which is my right as their tía.”

“Naturally.”

“Anyway, Paco and I will both be working from home, and it looks like Liliana will be home as well, at least for the summer, so we’ll have plenty of hands,” says Pepa.

“Thank you so much,” Eddie replies. “You really are a lifesaver. I’m going to call him now, he’s going to – well, he might drop Peanut off with a gift basket, honestly.”

Pepa laughs. “That boy is a joy. Tell him he’s more than welcome.”

“I will, thank you again,” says Eddie. “Okay. Love you, bye.”

He calls Buck immediately.

“Hey, Eddie, I don’t have a ton of time to chat, I’m still knee-deep in trying to figure out this whole quarantine thing with Bobby –“

“Buck!” Eddie interrupts, and he can hear the grin on his own face.  

“What?” says Buck.

“I figured it out,” Eddie tells him. “I figured it out for you, okay?”

“What?” Buck repeats, softer.

“Childcare,” Eddie says. “For Peanut. I figured it out.”

“You figured it out?” echoes Buck.

“You know that Pepa is taking Chris while we’re quarantining.” It isn’t a question. “Well, I called her just now, and she says she’s more than happy to have Marnie stay with them, too.”

“Eddie,” Buck breathes. “Eddie, I – you – I can’t ask her to do that.”

“First of all, you’re not asking,” says Eddie. “I did. And second of all, we absolutely can. Family takes care of each other, and that’s what you are to us. Your parents, your sister, they can’t help you with this, but – but my family can. And they want to, okay?”

“Are you sure?” says Buck.

“Absolutely,” Eddie says. “You can call Pepa and confirm yourself, if you want to.”

“I might, I mean – just for – for logistics,” Buck says. “Not because I don’t believe you. God – Eddie. Thank you.”

“Thank me by letting me stay at your house so we don’t both lose our minds living alone,” says Eddie.

“Done,” says Buck. “Wait, actually – then your house could be a place that they could take the kids if they need some variety. Still home, still safe, but somewhere different.”

“I didn’t even think of that,” Eddie says. “That’s a great idea.”

“I’m full of them,” Buck says, and he sounds like he’s grinning, now, too.

“Full of something,” says Eddie.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Buck. “Hey. Seriously. Thank you.”

“Any time,” Eddie replies.

So Eddie and Buck are going to be living together for the foreseeable future. They’re going to be at Buck’s place because Pepa already has a key to Eddie’s, but also because Buck actually has enough bedrooms.

Only Eddie staying with Buck also becomes Chimney staying with them, which puts Eddie in Marnie’s room. And then Hen also needs somewhere to stay, and it only makes sense for her to stay with them, too. Chim gets the guest room by virtue of beating Hen to it, which puts Hen on an (adult-sized) air mattress in Marnie’s room. And that leaves Eddie sharing with Buck. It’s the obvious, easy choice: Eddie and Buck have shared before and will certainly share again, and the two of them sharing Buck’s gigantic bed means that nobody has to sleep in the living room.

Which, when you’re spending literally every hour of every day in the same space, is nice. It means that everyone has a door to close when they want some quiet or space, or to talk to their own families. Everyone but Eddie and Buck, who’ve already woven their lives together so tightly that separating any further than they have to seems silly. They call their kids together, anyway.

It isn’t easy, being apart from the kids. Eddie misses Christopher and Marnie like a lost limb, but this is for the best. It’s definitely, absolutely for the best. The world is a mess and a lot of people are being idiots about it, and there’s no way for Eddie and Buck to avoid being exposed but they can keep their kids safe.

They’ve been doing groceries for Pepa – it’s practical, since they’re already inescapably exposed, but it’s also a once-a-week opportunity to stand on opposite sides of her front yard from the kids and see them in person from a safe distance. It’s not enough, not really, but it’s something.

Marnie’s birthday is the hardest day. They’re just shy of six weeks into quarantine, and it seems like it’ll still be weeks before any of them can hug their kids again.

Eddie wakes to Buck sitting upright, head in his hands and shoulders shaking.

“Buck?” Eddie says, shifting toward him slowly. “Are you alright?”

“It’s the thirteenth,” Buck replies. His voice has the gummy quality that follows crying.

Eddie pulls Buck against him in a tight, tight hug. “I know.”

“I told myself I’d never miss a birthday, you know?” Buck says. “I told myself I’d – I’d always be there for her on the days that mattered. I don’t – I never want her to feel the way I did growing up.”

“She knows it’s to keep her safe,” Eddie assures him. “She knows how much you love her and how much you wish you could be with her. And you’re not going to miss her birthday. We planned that whole Zoom party; you’re not telling me we’re skipping that.”

“No!” says Buck.

“Then you aren’t missing her birthday,” says Eddie. “You’re just – look, I know that this sucks. I really, really do. But our kids – they know why it has to be this way. And it won’t be like this forever.”

“We were going to take them to Disneyland this week,” Buck says, tipping his head onto Eddie’s shoulder.

“I know,” says Eddie. They’d been planning it for a while, a surprise for the kids. They’d both been asking for ages, but Buck insisted they should wait until Marnie was old enough to ride things without an adult, in case he and Eddie didn’t fit into some of the older vehicles. “And we will, eventually. This isn’t forever.”

“This isn’t forever,” Buck echoes.

And it’s not forever, but it is almost four months. Four months of parenting through a screen, four months of close quarters with Hen and Chimney at all hours of the day, four months of waking up to the soft dawn light of Buck’s bedroom with their limbs entangled.

Eddie could wake up like this every day of his life, if not for the fact that his son and Buck’s daughter are currently living in another house.

But sharing space with Buck – that’s the easiest part of the whole thing. It’s maybe the only easy part of this. So much of their lives overlapped already, and Buck is Eddie’s best friend. It’s different to what they were doing before, but still easy. Still natural.

Still, it’s a relief when things start to get easier – when safety protocols are figured out and there’s a vaccine on the near horizon – and it feels safe enough to move back into his own house with his own son. Hen moves home first, actually, which is what gets Eddie and Buck discussing it.

When they go to pick up the kids from Pepa’s – together, naturally – Eddie gives Christopher the tightest hug he’s ever given him in his life. Buck, next to him, has Marnie three feet off of the ground in his arms. Then, without needing to say a word, they trade kids. Eddie squeezes Marnie and Buck scoops up Chris and it’s perfect.

It’s perfect.

It only aches a little bit to move home.

There’s something just out of reach in the back of Eddie’s mind, a half-remembered dream.

(Buck’s house has room for four.)

But it’s nice to be settled in his own space again, nice to be able to reach out and ruffle Christopher’s hair as he goes by. Nice to be able to host family movie nights with the Buckleys in person again, with Marnie and Christopher curled on the couch between him and Buck like they’re supposed to be, instead of watching simultaneously via a video call.

Hen says the same: it’s great to be home, to be around her family again. Not that she doesn’t love Eddie and Buck and Chimney, but they aren’t her wife and children.

So why won’t Chimney move out of Buck’s guest room?

Chapter Text

Three weeks after Eddie moves out of Buck’s place and one week after Christopher’s ninth birthday, there’s a series of small earthquakes that cause a major landslide.

Chimney has spent all of the last three weeks finding additional excuses to stay in Buck’s house. Buck, who is getting fed up with this, is about ready to physically drag him back to his own apartment if he doesn’t get his shit together soon. So he’s afraid of being a parent – big deal! Everyone’s afraid, and you do it anyway.

He and Chim pair off for rescue in the landslide area, which is great. Awesome. Buck really needed to spend more time with the man who’s driving his sister up the wall and won’t move out of his house.

“You know,” Buck says, whether Chimney wants to hear it or not, “when Olivia told me she was pregnant, I freaked out.”

“Is that so?” says Chim, distracted.

“Of course,” says Buck. “I mean, I barely knew her, first of all. But I knew I had to get it together, because I didn’t want to leave her alone while she was going through that, and – and even though it was terrifying, I wanted Marnie. I wanted to be a dad. And I made the right call, you know?”

“Is this some kind of weird guilt trip?” Chim says. “Because you know that the reason I haven’t moved out is –“

“That Maddie’s high risk,” Buck finishes. “I know. But, Chim, I think at this point you’re doing more harm than good. You and Maddie are supposed to be actual partners in this, you know? And you’re somehow managing to hover and not have her back at the same time.”

“What if I’m a bad dad, Buck?” Chim asks, quiet. “I mean, mine is a piece of shit –“

“Don’t talk about Mr. Lee like that,” Buck says mildly. “He seems like a great guy.”

“You know what I mean,” says Chim.

“I do,” says Buck. “And you know that you know what a good father looks like. And more importantly – you love my sister, right?”

“Of course,” Chimney says, looking almost startled by the question.

“And you love this baby?”

“I – of course.”

“Then you’ll figure it out,” Buck assures him. “But you’ve got to get out of my house, man.”

Chimney laughs. “I see how it is. You just want me out of your house.”

“You’re welcome to my guest room as long as you need it, I just don’t think you really need it anymore,” Buck replies.

And then they hear a distant baby’s cry, and the conversation is dropped. Forever, as it turns out, since when they find the baby they also find a bunch of pregnant girls – the youngest in her mid teens, the oldest maybe twenty-three – that need rescuing. And a newborn baby, delivered on-scene by Chim.

Buck doesn’t know what happened down there, but he finally agrees to move back into his own fucking apartment the next day.

Somehow, this ends with Albert moving back in in his place. Buck is almost regretting shoving Chim bodily out of the nest – Albert is a great guy, and Buck genuinely likes him, but he’s a bit of a disaster. Buck already has two kids to worry about, he doesn’t need a third.

Especially since that third is actually a grown ass adult.

Mostly this has been a question of the grown ass adult in question leaving more dishes and clothes strewn about the house than is even strictly logical. His shoes are, somehow, always in a walkway.

That’s annoying, but livable.

Less livable is that this is the third fucking time that Buck has caught Albert trying to sneak a girl into the house. Is it what it was like to deal with Buck 1.0?

“For the love of God, dude,” Buck says, perched on the back of his couch. “I get it, alright? But you’ve got to go back to her place.”

“And who are you to set rules about what another adult’s sex life looks like?” Albert’s date snaps.

“The owner of this house and the father of the seven-year-old asleep down the hall,” says Buck. “I’m letting you live in my fucking guest room, Al. I am really not asking that much here.”

Albert’s date looks like she’s got something else to say about it, but Albert puts a hand on her arm.

“Sorry, Buck,” he says. “We can still go back to yours, Veronica, if this didn’t kill the mood?”

“Yeah,” Veronica says. “I don’t have asshole roommates trying to police my sex life.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” says Buck. “She doesn’t have roommates! Why did you even try coming here?”

“It was closer!” says Albert.

Buck pinches the bridge of his nose. “Please leave my house.”

Albert nods and basically drags Veronica out the door.

Honestly, Buck would rather just have a third kid.

Not long after this, Buck, Eddie, and Hen go down to Texas to help support the wildfire effort. It’s an interesting break, and they meet some interesting people, and then Hen almost dies because they cannot have one fucking week where absolutely nothing goes wrong and everything is fine.

They stop on the way home for lunch at Eddie’s parents’ house, which is –

It is.

They’ve got picnic tables set up in the yard for some semblance of distancing, but Eddie’s parents still sit at the table with him, Buck, and Hen. The rest of their crew – another handful of guys from B and C shifts – spread across the rest of the yard. The food is decent but nothing to really write home about, and the conversation is interesting.

“So, are you still enjoying firefighting, Eddie?” Helena asks. She places a weird emphasis on it that Buck can’t really parse.

Eddie is stiff and strange next to him. “Yeah, Mom. I love it.”

“You know, there are firefighters here in El Paso,” Ramon says.

“That’s nice,” says Eddie.

“Is Christopher still doing well in school?” says Helena. “Socially? I worry, you know, with you two so far away from home.”

“He’s doing great,” Eddie replies, with a kind of forced calm that Buck usually associates with high-stress calls. Buck presses his knee against Eddie’s under the table. “Obviously lockdown has been rough, but that would’ve been true anywhere. I’m just glad we were able to keep the kids together for the worst of it, or Chris would’ve been crawling the walls.”

“The kids?” Helena echoes, her brow furrowing.

“Christopher and my daughter, Marnie,” Buck says when Eddie doesn’t clarify right away. “They’re best friends.”

“Basically inseparable,” agrees Eddie.

“Oh,” says Helena.

“And they… quarantined together, somehow?” Ramon asks. “I thought Chris was with my sister for the lockdown.”

“He was,” says Eddie. “They both were.”

“Pepa was a lifesaver, honestly,” says Buck. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if she couldn’t help with Marnie.”

“Buck’s family are all first responders,” Eddie explains, while his parents exchange looks Buck doesn’t know how to read. “So there wasn’t anyone who could watch her who wouldn’t have been exposing her.”

Buck loves the way Eddie always implicitly includes Bobby and Athena in Buck’s immediate family. Even Buck tends to skirt around calling them his (surrogate) parents directly, but Eddie never does. He’d told Buck once that that’s Buck’s parent was one of his first ever impressions of each of them, and it stuck.

When Eddie says Buck’s family, he means Maddie, Bobby, and Athena. He means himself, and Hen, and Chim.

(And the kids, naturally. Always, always the kids.)

“Even your – wife?” Helena asks.

Hen, on Buck’s other side, is gripping her silverware with an intensity that seems a little much. She’s looking down at her food and Buck can tell it’s taking a monumental effort not to insert herself into the conversation.

“Oh, I don’t – I’m single,” says Buck. “Marnie’s mom isn’t in the picture.”

“Right,” says Helena.

“The point,” Eddie cuts in, “is that Christopher is thriving in LA. He loves it there, we love it there.”

“Well,” Helena says. “Are you at least dating? If you’re going to stay out there, you should really be trying to find a mother for your poor son.”

“No, Mom, I’m –“ Buck can feel the tension in Eddie’s whole body, can see it in every line of him. Why is his mom still pushing? Eddie’s eyes flick to Buck, then back to his mom. “I’m content right now. I’ll get back into dating when it – feels right.”

Helena purses her lips, eyes flicking over her son. “Right.”

And after that delightful conversation, they head for home. And with home comes:

“Tomorrow?” Buck echoes, horrified.

“I didn’t think they’d actually come,” Maddie replies, genuinely apologetic. “I tried to get them to wait until – until at least after she’s born, you know? But they insisted. And now they’re – I didn’t want to tell you until I knew for sure it was happening, and then you were in Texas, and –“

“Maddie,” says Buck. His voice is shaking. “They don’t know about Marnie. Right? You haven’t – they don’t know?”

“They don’t know,” Maddie says. “I promise.”

Buck breathes, relieved. At least there’s a single silver lining: if he has to see his parents, if Maddie wants her baby to have them as grandparents, he doesn’t have to drag Marnie into the mess. They'll meet Marnie over Buck's dead body.

Actually, he might see if Bobby and Athena could take her that night. Spend some time with her actual grandparents, while Buck suffers through the biological ones.

Buck leaves his sister’s place and drives straight to Eddie’s. He has both of the kids at the moment, since Maddie had insisted that she needed to talk to him in person about something important.

“What did Maddie want?” Eddie asks, his voice low, almost as soon as Buck is through the door.

“Our parents are coming to town,” Buck replies.

Two heads of fluffy, golden curls poke over the back of the couch.

“Whose parents?” Marnie says, her brow furrowed.

“Mine and Aunt Maddie’s,” Buck says, barely holding in a sigh.

The kids look at each other, then back to Buck.

“You and Aunt Maddie have parents?” Christopher says.

“Chris,“ Eddie says.

“I mean, everybody has parents,” says Buck. “Got to come from somewhere, you know?”

“Well, yeah,” says Chris, “but –“

The kids glance at each other again.

“Alive parents,” they finish in unison.

“Oh,” says Buck.

“Kids,” Eddie says.

“No, it’s – fine,” says Buck. He comes around the couch, perching on the arm. “I haven’t talked to my parents in a long, long time. We were never close, and when I moved away, I only kept in touch with Maddie.”

Marnie tilts her head to one side, her expression a little sad. “Did you miss them?”

“Uh,” says Buck. “No. Like I said, we weren’t – honestly, they weren’t very good parents.”

“So why are they coming?” Marnie says, wrinkling her nose.

“Good question,” says Eddie.

“Well, they were always closer with Aunt Maddie than me,” Buck says, and it’s true but they weren’t really much better parents to her than to him in his lifetime. Just… different. “And she wants her baby to have a relationship with their grandparents.”

“Do I have to meet them?” Marnie says, with so much distaste in her voice it almost makes Buck laugh. “I already have grandparents.”

Buck leans over to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, you sure do, baby girl. And no, you don’t have to. In fact, I’d really prefer that you don’t meet them.”

“Good,” Marnie says, with a decisiveness that does make Eddie laugh.

“Unfortunately, I do have to see them,” says Buck.

“Why?” says Christopher.

“Good question,” Eddie says again.

“Because Maddie asked me to,” Buck says. “And I love her a lot.”

Marnie turns toward Christopher. “I love you, but if we had parents that made my face do that –“ she waves toward Buck over her shoulder, “I would not come to dinner.”

Buck isn’t certain what his face had done while talking about them to earn such a drastic statement.

Christopher pats Marnie’s hand. “If we had parents that made your face do that, I would not ask.”

Buck looks over the kids’ heads at Eddie, a little bit thrown off by this interaction. Eddie seems to have understood it, though, because he’s nodding.

“Good thing you don’t,” Eddie says, reaching over to ruffle Christopher’s hair.

“’Course we don’t, Dad,” says Christopher. “It’s the principle.”

“When do you have to see them, Daddy?” Marnie asks, steering the conversation back in the direction it was heading before.

“Uh, dinner tomorrow and then in three days,” says Buck. “I was thinking that maybe for tomorrow’s we could see if you could hang out at Bobby and Athena’s?”

“Okay,” Marnie chirps.

“I could come to dinner with you, if you wanted,” Eddie offers. Buck’s heart does a funny little flip-flop in his chest. “I know you’ll have Maddie and Chim there, but – you know, someone there just to have your back.”

“I – thank you, but – but I think I’ll be okay,” Buck replies. He tilts his head, considering. “I like the idea of having a getaway driver, though, metaphorically speaking.”

“Say the word, and I will have a minor but urgent problem for you to come solve,” Eddie says solemnly. He’s always exactly on the same wavelength as Buck.

Buck reaches across Marnie and Christopher, not entirely certain what he means to do – but, again, Eddie’s there, and Eddie is on the same wavelength. He catches Buck’s hand in his own, just for a moment, squeezing tightly.

Buck doesn’t get around to actually organizing Marnie going to the Grant-Nashes’ house until later. They spend the afternoon and evening at the Diazes’ house, playing video games and joking around with three of Buck’s favorite people in the world. Buck makes dinner.

The thing about not calling Athena or Bobby right away is this: Buck trusts that he can rely on them.

There is almost nothing that they wouldn’t set aside if someone they love needed them, particularly if that someone were May, Harry, Buck, or Marnie. Buck trusts that. And he trusts that they don’t see looking after Marnie – even on short, strange notice like this – as an imposition.

He knows this, can believe this, because they’ve told him over and over and over. It’s finally begun to sink in. And he knows this because he knows, he trusts, that they love him.

It’s such a stark contrast from his biological parents that it’s almost comical. Phillip and Margaret Buckley would not drop anything to help Buck, or maybe even Maddie. They were and are the definition of parenting is an 18-year obligation as an idea, when Buck knows now that it’s a lifelong calling.

Margaret and Phillip spent years neither knowing nor, presumably, caring whether Buck was alive or dead, let alone where he was. They are not now, nor have the ever been, people he would think of to reach out to for help. He’d been six years old going to his big sister when he needed something, he’d been fifteen figuring things out for himself, he’d been twenty-two going it alone, he’d been twenty-six finding a new family.

The thing about Athena and Bobby is that they love Buck. So he can spring ‘hey, can you watch Marnie while I face the people who technically raised me tomorrow’ on them with less than a day’s notice and know, trust, that he answer will be yes. Of course. Always.

And also:

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“Want to, no,” Buck admits. He’s standing in the front hall of their house, Marnie having already run off to see May and Harry. “I have to, though.”

Athena hums, disapproving.

“Look,” Buck finds himself saying, “I – I – I know. But this is important to Maddie, and I’m not going to leave her to do it alone, okay?”

“You’re allowed to have a different relationship with them than she does,” Bobby says.  

Buck huffs an almost-laugh. “Believe me, I know. And we – we do. I’ve made my peace with that. But I love her, and she asked me to be there, so I’m going.”

“Of course you are,” says Bobby.

Athena puts a hand on Buck’s cheek, looking him dead in the eye. “Alright. But don’t do anything stupid.”

“What?” Buck says.

“You heard me,” says Athena. “I know you, Evan Buckley. If you leave this dinner upset, you’ve got to promise me that you will come straight back here or straight to Eddie’s. No stopping, no dumbass stunts.”

And that’s –

The thing is, the dumbass stunts, they were always a function of getting his parents attention. Getting something that felt like parental love.

He’s never felt as loved by a parent as he does right now, though.

“I promise,” Buck says. “I’ve got Eddie on call for an escape excuse if I need it, and I’ll take it if it comes to that. ‘Thena, I promise.”

She sighs, stepping back. “Drive safe.”

“I will,” Buck assures her. “Love you.”

And then he’s on his way to his sister’s apartment, to see his parents for the first time in a decade.

Added onto everything else, Chim’s been acting super weird. Buck wants to attribute that to meeting his girlfriend’s parents, but he knows Chim well enough to know that isn’t likely.

That honestly slips Buck’s mind, though, because as soon as his parents arrive it’s downhill immediately.

Of course, the Buckleys arrive with arms full of gifts, with big smiles on their faces that only fade a little when their eyes land on their son.

“You did not have to do all this,” Maddie says as they step inside.

“Of course we did,” says Phillip. “We’re grandparents now.”

Chimney makes eye contact with Buck and darts forward. “I’m Howard Han, I’ve been so excited to finally meet you. Buck’s told me so much about you.”

“Buck,” Margaret echoes. “You’re still letting people call you that?”

“It’s just a nickname, Mom,” says Buck.

“Right,” says Margaret.

“Oh, right, you guys don’t like nicknames,” Chimney says, almost startled. “I always forget, ‘cause Maddie –“

“Is the name on my birth certificate,” Maddie says.

“Right,” says Chim.

And then Phillip asks if people call Chim Howard and he lies, so Buck is pretty much stuck with Evan for the rest of the week.

All in all, the first dinner isn’t as bad as anyone seems to have expected. It’s not good, but all of the judgement is quiet and understated. Very classically Buckley. They also manage to get through the night without Chimney (bad at secrets), Albert (obviously overwhelmed), Maddie (apparently told their parents Buck is in therapy for some reason?), or Buck (proud dad) mentioning Marnie’s existence.

Buck makes it through the night without obviously drinking more than is dinner appropriate or calling in his lifeline.

He doesn’t even spend the night on Bobby and Athena’s couch, though they offer. He’s too tall for it when he’s not in crisis.

No, it’s the second dinner where it all falls apart.

The second dinner is on the other side of a tense but ultimately anticlimactic shift, so frankly Buck goes in strung a little tight. The second dinner is also Albert-free, because the asshole had wriggled his way out of being a buffer. It’s just Buck, Maddie, Chim, Margaret, and Phillip, and it does not go well.

Dinner is fine, mostly. Buck cooks, because he doesn’t trust Chim to do it under stress and Maddie is very, very pregnant. They do not tell their parents that Buck cooked, and Margaret compliments what she assumes is Maddie’s work several times.

It goes to hell as they’re clearing the table.

Phillip asks Chim to grab something they’d brought, and Maddie is in the middle of saying they really, really didn’t need to bring this many gifts when he sets it down. It’s a wooden box, lovingly made, with Maddie’s name painted on the top.

“Your baby box,” Margaret says as Maddie opened it. “We thought you might like to share some of this with your little girl.”

“I didn’t know you’d made these,” Buck says, leaning in to look over his sister’s shoulder as she turns over a tiny baby shoe. He glances back at his parents. “When do I get mine?”

They don’t even bother to look apologetic as they stare back at Buck, their literal actual son. Of course they don’t have one of these for Buck. He always knew they loved Maddie, but he’s a little surprised they’ve even done this for her.

“You’re not even a grown-up yet, Buck,” Chim teases, or at least tries to tease. He reaches over to squeeze Buck’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe you held on to all of this,” says Maddie.

“Of course we did,” says Phillip.

“What, did you think we’d just thrown it all away?” says Margaret.

Maddie tenses. Chim’s hand tightens on Buck’s shoulder. Buck takes a deep breath.

This isn’t a surprise.

This is not a fucking surprise.

So why is he so fucking pissed off?

The conversation devolves rapidly from there. Buck can’t hold back the bite in his voice as he calls his parents out for not showing up to Maddie’s wedding, for not noticing despite how physically close they’d been that something was wrong. Buck had known something was wrong, and he’d been a fucking child.

He’s turning his phone over in his hands as he speaks. Finally, subtly, lets himself send the lifeline text to Eddie.

Finds himself on his feet, almost immediately after.

“Do you wanna know the real reason I’m in therapy?” Buck snaps. “Because I have spent my entire life knowing I wasn’t loved or wanted by the people who were supposed to love me and want me most. That nothing I would ever do – could ever do – would ever be enough to change that. I’m in therapy because I am clawing my way toward being a better parent than either of you!”

“You have no idea what being a parent is like!” Margaret yells back, watery. “You never made it easy for us! Either of you!”

“Were we supposed to?” Maddie cuts in. “We were kids.”

“What were we supposed to do?” says Margaret.

Buck stares back at her, stunned. “Love me anyway.”

In his hand, his phone starts to buzz with an incoming call.

“I have to take this,” Buck says flatly, and turns to walk away.

“I’m outside,” Eddie says as soon as Buck picks up.

“That was fast,” says Buck. He heads for the stairs.

“I was nearby,” replies Eddie. “Kids are at the Wilsons’, by the way. You wanna come home with me, or am I dropping you at your parents’ house?”

“Home,” Buck says. “I don’t think I could handle – that, right now.”

“That being, what? Bobby and Athena?”

“Actual parental love?”

“Ah,” Eddie says, as Buck approaches his car. “So it was really bad then.”

Buck opens the passenger side door, hanging up the call. “Yeah. It was really fucking bad.”

“I’m sorry, bud,” says Eddie. He watches Buck buckle his seatbelt before he speaks again. “You want to go to my place, or yours?”

“Mine,” Buck says, tilting his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. “I want to sleep until they go back to fucking Pennsylvania.”

“I don’t think we can manage four days of sleep, since we have work and children, but I think I can promise you at least a solid ten hours,” says Eddie.

“Done.”

In the end, he doesn’t manage quite that much, but still most of it. Marnie and Christopher are safely in the hands of Hen and Karen, probably having a fantastic weeknight sleepover with Denny and Nia. Buck gets handed his most worn-in, comfortable pajama pants and then Eddie crawls into bed next to him even though there’s a perfectly comfortable guest bed down the hall. Buck isn’t sure if that’s a quarantine force of habit, or because Eddie doesn’t want to leave him alone, but –

He thinks he knows.

It’s a day and a half later that he actually gets a chance to talk things through with Maddie, who apologizes on their parents’ behalf like it’s ever been her fault how they treat him.

Who tells him about their brother, and why he’d been born.

Well, he can’t help thinking, at least now I know why they hate me.

--

Buck is obviously fragile at the start of their next shift.

Eddie is really fucking worried about that, if he’s honest, because when he’d seen Buck last – out the door on the way to Maddie’s again – he’d been steadier. Still obviously rattled by talking to his parents, but steadier. And Eddie had thought, for really obvious reasons, that talking to Maddie would make him feel better.

Buck loves Maddie more than almost anyone in the world, and she’s got a way of soothing him no one else has – years of parental disinterest, with Maddie being the only one who bothered to try soothing him, probably accounts for that.

And yet here they are, with Buck obviously on the verge of shaking apart.

He tells them all the story, with a slightly hysterical edge that makes Eddie a little nervous.

The thing is, Eddie has always assumed that Buck was an accident. He’s so much younger than Maddie, and it’s clear in every single inch of him that his parents weren’t that interested in raising him. He can see, as the story unfolds, that Bobby and Hen had assumed more or less the same.

The truth, honestly, makes Eddie feel a little dizzy. Not only was Buck planned – meticulously – they’d conceived him to save their older, wanted, son from the cancer that ultimately killed him anyway. And then they’d moved, pretended that Daniel had never existed and asked their older child who’d just lost a sibling to do the same, and then despite all of that still carried their grief in a way that made Buck feel at fault for something he didn’t even know had happened.

Buck is clearly, obviously upset. Eddie isn’t sure he’s ever seen him this upset, actually, and he was there through the whole summer after the truck bomb. He was there the day of the tsunami, when Buck thought their children were dead. This isn’t more, necessarily, but it’s sharper and edged with a kind of frantic energy that has Eddie worried.

They get a call that evening to a massive, devastating factory fire. Because of course the shift where Eddie’s more concerned about Buck than ever before is one of the most dangerous ones they’ve ever worked. Not only is the fire huge, the factory has been making hand sanitizer, which is, naturally, super flammable.

Not only are they at a giant, bonus-flammability factory fire, but Bobby isn’t the IC, and Eddie gets separated from Buck.

It’s not he doesn’t trust Hen. It really isn’t. It’s that he doesn’t trust Buck, when he’s got that wild look in his eyes.

And, of course, Buck found a reason to run off on his own. Of course, Buck found a reason to pass his mask off to a victim. Of course, Buck wound up trapped and alone (with an injured civilian). Of course, when they arrive to help, he looks on the verge of completely giving up.

Eddie knows, somewhat abstractly, that Buck’s value for his own life is low-to-nonexistent. He thinks that it probably used to be worse – before Maddie came back into his life, before the 118, before Marnie – but he still has a tendency to put everyone else’s life ahead of his own. An undercurrent of I don’t care if I die as long as no one else does.

Eddie knows, has known, but it’s different today. Less abstract and more distinct and cutting, after learning why.

The Buckleys – unmistakably – are at the station when they get back.

Buck isn’t with them; he’s at the hospital getting checked over for everyone’s peace of mind. Bobby stayed with him. That’s also for everyone’s peace of mind, because it means that Buck can’t come back saying he’s fine and everything’s cool if it isn’t. It means Buck isn’t alone.

Buck is at the hospital, and the Buckleys are here.

Chim greets them, with a borderline frantic lean to his tone.

“This is Hen Wilson,” he says, gesturing to her. “She and I are together in the ambulance.” He waves at Eddie, now. “That’s Eddie Diaz, he’s Buck’s partner.”

Margaret’s face does a brief and obviously involuntary scrunch of distaste at Buck’s name. Contextually, Eddie is inclined to assume that it’s because of the nickname and not his existence. Buck has mentioned that a few times, that his parents disapprove of nicknames, in that casual way that he always drops the most heartbreaking pieces of his history.

 “Eddie,” Phillip says, immediately confirming Eddie’s assumption. “Is that short for something?”

“Usually,” Eddie replies without elaborating.

“Right,” says Margaret.

“Buck will be back soon,” Hen says. “We just came off a pretty rough call, and he had to stop by the hospital for a quick check.” The Buckleys pull faces, startled and also something else, which Hen is quick to intentionally misinterpret as worry. “He’s fine! It’s just for everyone’s peace of mind.”

“Oh,” says Margaret.

“Why don’t you come up to the loft,” Chim says, taking a half step toward the stairs. “Have a coffee while you wait. I’m sure Buck and Bobby aren’t too far out.”

“A coffee would be lovely,” Margaret says.

Chimney starts toward the stairs, leading the way, and the Buckley parents follow.

Hen moves that way too, but pauses when she realizes Eddie isn’t following. “You aren’t coming? You’re Buck’s biggest fan, I kind of figured you’d be all over the opportunity to talk him up.”

“I am confident that Buck wouldn’t want me to say most of what I’d like to say to them,” says Eddie. “Anyway, he deserves a heads-up that they’re here. I figured I’d hang out and make sure they can’t blindside him.”

“Good idea,” Hen replies, patting Eddie on the shoulder. There’s something in her eye Eddie doesn’t know how to parse, but she’s smiling.

She leaves Eddie alone downstairs, trailing up after Chim and the Buckleys.

He can’t help reaching out for Buck as soon as he and Bobby pull up, not quite a hug but a firm grasp of both shoulders as he scans over Buck’s face.

“Clean bill of health,” Buck assures him.

Eddie can’t help glancing to Bobby, who nods. He’s even smiling.

“Good,” says Eddie. “Good.”

“I had to do it,” Buck says quietly.

“I know you did,” Eddie replies, because he does. He knows that Buck – even Buck at his best – has the need to save everyone, the inability to leave anyone behind even at risk of himself, etched into his bones. And he knows that this is not Buck at his best.

He sighs, looking over his shoulder at the loft. “Your parents are here.”

“What?” says Buck, startling under Eddie’s hands. Maybe he should let go.

“Phillip and Margaret,” Eddie corrects.

Bobby makes a little sound that might be a laugh.

“Why?” Buck says.

Eddie shrugs. “They were looking for you. You want me to clear them out?”

“No,” says Buck. “No, it’s fine, I’ll talk to them, but – why?”

“You’ll have to ask them,” says Eddie. “They’re in the loft.”

Buck nods, and Eddie finally lets him go fully so he can move past him. He takes the stairs at a measured, one-at-a-time pace, which is unusual for him. Usually, Buck is bounding up those stairs with all of the speed his mile-long legs grant him.

Bobby gives a little gesture like Eddie should follow him, and Eddie’s already moving. He doesn’t want to leave Buck alone with his parents, and he can hear the lull in conversation that suggests Hen and Chimney have moved away.

“- seem to really like you,” Margaret is saying as Eddie crests the stairs.

“Oh?” Buck says neutrally.

“They had a lot of very positive things to say,” Phillip adds.

Eddie makes a show of heading for the kitchen, opting to make himself a hot chocolate because it’s a longer process than coffee. He meets Buck’s eye briefly across the room, and he knows Buck understands that he’s still prepared to step in if it comes to it.

Eddie ducks low to fish out a hot chocolate packet, relegated as they are to the back of the random prepared snack section of the pantry, underneath all of the actual foods. When he pops back up, he’s certain he’s missed something, because Buck is saying –

“I’m sorry about Daniel.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Margaret says.

“I know,” Buck says firmly. He sighs, looking down at his hands. “But – I have a seven-year-old. A daughter. Last year, when the tsunami hit Los Angeles, I was on the pier with her and my partner’s son. I spent – I spent the worst day of my life, walking through the wreckage, thinking I had lost both of them to the wave. It’s a miracle that we didn’t. I cannot imagine what it would’ve been like to have to live with that feeling for the rest of my life.”

“Evan –“ Phillip says.

“Buck,” Buck corrects, sharp. “The people who know me call me Buck.”

“Buck, then,” Phillip concedes. “We didn’t know you had – that you’re a parent.”

“Surely you understand, then,” Margaret says, quieter.

“I don’t,” says Buck. “I don’t. I’ve been thinking about it, you know? And all I keep thinking is, if we’d lost one of the kids and not the other that day, I would’ve spent the rest of my life looking at the one who made it like a miracle. And it’s different, with Daniel, I guess, because he was the kid that you wanted and I was just the extra, but – but I was still your son. I was still your son, and I deserved better than that.”

“You did,” Phillip says, and it sounds like it pains him. Neither of them bothers saying anything resembling I’m sorry.

“Your daughter,” Margaret says. “You didn’t mention her name.”

“That’s right,” says Buck. “I didn’t. Here’s the thing, Mom: I’m willing to – to make peace with you, for Maddie’s sake. She wants you in her baby’s life, and I respect that. But I don’t want you in my baby’s life. She has family that love her, unconditionally, and I don’t ever want her to know anything different.”

Margaret takes in a sharp breath.

“Thanks for stopping by,” Buck says, standing up and effectively ending the conversation. “See you the next time Maddie invites you to LA.”

“Evan,” Margaret says, soft.

“Bye, Mom. Dad,” says Buck.

As soon as he turns away from them, he squeezes his eyes shut tightly, like he’s trying to hold something back. But then he opens them again, the false smile on his face softening as he approaches Eddie.

“One of those for me?” Buck says, nodding toward the two mugs of hot chocolate Eddie’s been assembling on the counter.

“Of course,” Eddie replies. He nudges the one he’d made in Buck’s favorite mug toward him.

He glances across the loft again, eyes catching on Margaret and Phillip at the top of the stairs. She’s looking back at them, a curious tilt to her head. She shakes her head, turning away.

Eddie bumps his shoulder against Buck’s. “You okay, bud?”

Buck sighs. “I will be.”

They drink their hot chocolates in silence after that.

Buck doesn’t come home with Eddie after their shift, which isn’t entirely unheard of but is also less common than Eddie is quite prepared to admit. He says he’s got to talk to Maddie, though, which is – fair.

Eddie watches him closely over the next few weeks. The longer Buck’s parents are gone, the further from teetering on the edge of suicidal behavior he seems to be, which is a relief.

In fact, just three weeks later he seems almost back to normal. There’s still a shade of something off, a tiredness that wasn’t there before, but it’s almost as attributable to trying to help Maddie and Chimney with finishing up the prep for the baby as it is to his parents’ disaster of a visit. He’s certainly feeling more himself the day that Ravi, B-Shift’s new probie, “jinxes” them.

And here’s the thing about the jinx: Eddie doesn’t believe in them, isn’t prone to superstition, but he can admit that it’s been a weird day so far. But playing up the skepticism has so far been earning this bright, mischievous smile from Buck, the kind he hasn’t seen in weeks, so Eddie keeps insisting.

They’re a few calls into the day when Eddie runs into Ana Flores, Christopher’s second grade teacher. She’s got a mild burn, “treated” by someone who absolutely should’ve known better.

“Haven’t seen you around this year,” Eddie says idly as he bandages her hand.

“I took a new job,” she says. “Assistant principal at another school.”

“Nice,” says Eddie. “Sounds like a nice gig.”

“I’m enjoying it so far,” Ana says. “I miss working directly with the kids, but there’s always tradeoffs with these things.” She ducks her head, flushing just a bit. “You know,  I had actually been looking forward to having Christopher’s little sister this year.”

“His –“ Eddie starts, then, “Marnie?”

“Yes,” says Ana. “He talks about her so much, and it’s always fun to have sets of siblings. She’s just a year behind, right?”

“Uh, two years younger, one behind at school, yeah,” Eddie says, feeling a bit disoriented. People assume that Christopher and Marnie are siblings all the time, but usually those people are strangers. It feels like another thing entirely that Ana could’ve taught Chris for a whole year and still come away with that impression.

“He seems like a very good big brother,” Ana says.

“Definitely,” says Eddie.

“I should let you go,” says Ana. She nods toward the rest of the team, who seem to be wrapping up. “But, ah – since I’m not Marnie’s teacher this year, maybe we could get a coffee sometime?”

“Only if you promise not to burn me with it,” Eddie says, smiling.

Ana laughs, light and breezy, and then digs a little notepad out of her purse, scribbling her phone number on it. “I promise. Call me sometime.”

“For sure,” says Eddie.

The whole thing was strange, but maybe it’s a sign. Eddie hasn’t dated at all since Shannon died. It’s only been a bit shy of two years, so no one but his parents have been putting any pressure behind that, but maybe this is a sign that he’s gotten too comfortable in the makeshift family he and Buck have built. He should be looking for something else beyond that, right?

Eddie loves what he and Buck have built together. He loves the relationship between Christopher and Marnie. He loves how easy it is for him and Buck to read each other’s minds when it comes to the kids – to most things, even – and how tightly woven they are into each other’s lives.

Eddie could live like this forever. But he doesn’t want to hold Buck back from being happy with someone, someday, and Christopher and Marnie both deserve full sets of parents and not just their dads’ best friends.

He texts Ana that night.

--

Dad has been weird lately.

First of all, he seems to have developed a social life outside of Buck and Marnie and Christopher, which is weird enough on its own. He’s gone out a few times and left Chris at Buck and Marnie’s house, and every time he’s been extra fussy about his clothes and his hair first.

It’s not that Chris minds staying at Buck and Marnie’s house. He loves Buck and Marnie’s house, and he loves Buck and Marnie. It’s just that it’s usually best there when his dad is also there, because he loves his dad, too.

He and Marnie have been talking, and they’re both pretty sure that Dad has a girlfriend.

Dad hasn’t ever had a girlfriend, so Chris wasn’t sure. But he’s behaving kind of like he did right before Mom came back, taking random evenings without Chris even when he isn’t working. And Marnie says that Buck had a girlfriend once, and it was sort of like this, too. Buck and Dad don’t go about things quite the same way, generally, but Marnie is pretty confident.

Chris thinks that even though Marnie is only seven, she’s seen enough of the world that she’s probably right.

All of that is on his mind when, one night, Dad starts halfheartedly talking around how he has this friend that he’s been hanging out with.

And all of a sudden, Chris goes from kind of ambivalent about the whole thing to mad.

Because Dad won’t just say what he means, but also –

But also –

Everything is still so messy and fragmented because of the pandemic. School is weird and tightly locked down, with everything trapped in the homeroom classroom even if they would normally be somewhere else – specials are videos made by the teachers, and lunch is happening at their desks, and everyone has to bring a water bottle to school because they don’t want kids using the water fountains. Abuela – who’s actually Dad’s abuela, if Chris is being technical – is high risk and being exposed in different places, so she’s still in a different bubble until the vaccine. Chris isn’t even back with Carla yet.

Everything is weird, and Dad is going on dates?

They’d just started dinner, when it came up, and now Chris is holed up in his room and he can hear Dad on the phone in the other room. There’s an almost-familiar female voice talking back, so maybe he’s on a videocall on his computer, actually. The point is that Dad is in the other room, and Chris is alone and he’s upset and he’s frustrated and he’s –

Scared.

Chris is scared.

He sneaks down the hall – sure enough, Dad is in the dining room on his laptop, which means that his phone is abandoned in the living room. Chris has an idea, and he knows that it’s not a good one, but he’s going to do it anyway.

Before he commits, Chris fishes his iPad out of his backpack and sends his sister a message on the kids messaging app their dads got them set up on at the start of the lockdown. I’m coming over.

Marnie messages back almost immediately: ???

Chris doesn’t respond.

He uses his dad’s phone to get an Uber, but at the last moment decides to leave the actual phone behind on his bed rather than take it with him. He brings his iPad, though, thrown into his backpack and slung over his shoulder. It won’t be any help when he’s in transit, but at least when he gets there Dad will be able to message or call him if he wants.

Dad doesn’t seem to notice him leaving, caught up in his conversation with his girlfriend.

“Hey, uh, Eddie?” the driver says, rolling down the window as Chris approaches the car.

Chris nods firmly. “Renee?”

“That’s me,” she says. “You got a grownup coming with you?”

“No,” Chris tells her. “But my dad is watching my location to make sure I get home okay, and I know the route, so I’ll know if you do any funny business.”

“Alright, kid,” says Renee. “Hop in.”

The drive from Dad’s house to Buck’s isn’t long, and Chris thinks he could probably even walk it if he had a while. When Renee pulls to a stop outside the Buckleys’ house, Chris can see Marnie’s face pressed to the front window. He’s probably lucky Buck isn’t waiting on the front step for him, too.

“Thank you,” Chris says politely as he climbs out of the car.

He doesn’t even have to knock. As soon as he hits the front step Marnie is opening the door.

“You are going to be in so much trouble,” Marnie says in a low voice.

“Peanut, I told you not to open the front –“ Buck says, coming up behind her. “…door.”

“Hi, Buck,” says Chris.

“Chris,” Buck says, looking a little stunned. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted –“ Chris starts. Glances at Marnie. “I – I just –“

And then he bursts into tears.

“Oh, Chris,” Buck says, softer. He pulls Chris into a hug which also manages to pull him inside of the house.

“Chris, sweetheart,” Buck says, once they’re safely in the living room and squished side-by-side on Buck’s couch, “what’s the matter?”

“Dad’s got a girlfriend,” Chris tells him, even though he’s sure Buck already knows. “Dad’s got a girlfriend and everything is weird and everybody leaves and I’m – I’m – what if she’s terrible and I meet her and she leaves too? What if she’s perfect and she doesn’t leave any room for you?”

“Oh,” says Buck. He tucks Chris tight against his side, arm wrapped around his shoulders. “Well, first of all, everything is weird, but it won’t be weird forever. It might not be exactly the same as it was before, but I promise that the way things are right now is not how they always will be.”

“How do you know?” Marnie says, small. She’s on the armchair, watching with her knees pulled to her chest. Chris can’t remember ever crying in front of Marnie before, except for when his mom died.

“Because it’s already better than it was, remember?” says Buck. “More of us can be together again, and there’s a vaccine now, which means that soon even more of the people we like and love can be around again.”

“What about Dad’s girlfriend?” Chris says, mostly into Buck’s shirt.

“What if she’s bad, or what if she’s good?”

“Either,” says Chris. “Both.”

“Well, I know that your dad likes her a lot,” says Buck. “And he has pretty good taste in friends, you know?”

Marnie giggles.

“But no matter how much he likes her,” Buck continues, “there is nothing in this world that would make me leave you behind, Chris. Even if your dad falls in love, you’re not getting rid of us. As long as I’m alive, I’m here.”

“Are you sure?” Chris says.

“I’m sure,” Buck says, steady. “I love you, and Marnie loves you. And you and your dad love us, right?” Chris nods. “Then maybe we’ll all make room for more people in our lives, more people we like and maybe someday love, but it will never change that. We’re family, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Down the hall, Buck’s phone rings.

Marnie pops up. “I got it, Daddy.”

She’s gone before Buck can tell her not to be, but Buck’s phone must be in the kitchen or somewhere else along the straight, echoey shot down the center of the house, because they hear her answer the phone with crystal clarity.

“Dad’s phone, Marnie speaking,” Marnie chirps. There’s a pause. “Hi, Eddie. Daddy’s talking to Christopher right now, is it important?”

Marnie’s voice is getting closer, and this time as she pauses Chris can almost hear his sister’s curious head tilt.

“Yes, your son Christopher,” she says. “I don’t think my dad knows any other – yeah, we’re at our house. I can tell him, sure.” She pauses again, coming into view. “Okay. See you soon, Eddie. I love you.”

There’s a beat, and then she hangs up the phone. She doesn’t bother handing it to Buck, just sets it on the table in front of him.

“Eddie says don’t take Chris home, he’ll come here,” Marnie reports dutifully. She looks at Chris, chewing on her lip. “He sounded upset.”

“I,” Chris says, considering, “I needed to see you guys.”

“Next time call me, bud,” Buck says. “You know I’ll always come for you.”

“I know,” says Chris.

Marnie tucks herself in against Chris’s other side, wedging him between the two Buckleys pretty tightly. That’s where Dad finds him when he bursts through the front door about five minutes later, and he’s visibly frantic as he appears in the doorway but melts when he sees the three of them nestled together on the couch.

Dad “introduces” Chris to his girlfriend a few days later. He’s apparently dating Ms. Flores, Chris’s teacher from last year, which is kind of weird but fine. She’s nice, and Chris liked her a lot as a teacher, and she already knows some of the shape of Chris’s family which makes it a little easier to not be afraid that she’ll ruin it.

Still, he hopes Dad knows what he’s getting into. Their family is already perfect.

--

 Re-introducing Chris to Ana goes about as well as it could’ve possibly gone, Eddie thinks. It’s sooner than he’d have ideally wanted to introduce a girlfriend to his son, but after Chris had expressed how worried he’s been about change, it felt like the safest choice. Remind him that people can come back, and let him know that this isn’t even someone brand new.

He hopes that this is the right call.

Chris does seem to like Ana a lot, at least, which is promising. Eddie likes her, too, and he thinks he could definitely – probably? – fall in love with her.

Buck’s niece, Jee-Yun Buckley Han, is born within an hour of Albert nearly dying in a massive, multi-car pileup on the freeway. He survives, but it’s a close, close call. The 118-A are the ones to find him, car tumbled off of the road and down a hill, mere minutes after Chimney leaving to attend the birth of his daughter. Buck is handling it all –

He’s handling it.

He’s the one to go find Chim at the hospital, having insisted to everyone that the news needed to come from him.

Chim and Maddie have insisted, despite the newborn, on Albert staying with them while he recovers. And Buck – well, not just Buck – isn’t allowed to visit, at least for the first few weeks, since baby Jee-Yun’s immune system is so fragile and new. Buck is crawling the walls.

He’s taken up knitting, just for something to do with his restless energy. He’s not very good at it yet, but he insists that Jee is a baby and won’t know the difference between a perfect blanket and a messy one made with love as long as it’s soft and cozy. Eddie can’t really argue with that.

He’s also taken up hanging out with Taylor Kelly, although he keeps insisting that they’re just friends. Eddie doesn’t want to police Buck’s relationships, but he knows that getting involved with Taylor again is only going to end in trouble.

He even teams up with her for the damn treasure hunt!

Eddie is prepared to believe that’s just because she asked Buck first, rather than Buck choosing to ask her over Eddie. Especially if they’re really ‘just friends’ like Buck keeps insisting. Partner wins over ‘just friend’ every time.

And then the treasure hunt is a huge scam, anyway. Eddie feels a little silly getting caught up in it, but he’s far from the only one.

A few weeks later, Eddie and Chris invite Carla over for dinner. With vaccination finally an option, she’s able to take Christopher back onto her schedule soon, but they’re all just excited to see each other. She’s family, now, just as surely as the Buckleys.

Only, for this very first dinner, Eddie means for it to just be the three of them. Just to catch up, to let Carla ease back in before taking the full force of the Buckley-Diaz family chaos.

And somehow, Eddie isn’t really certain how, that turns into Ana coming over for dinner, too.

Now Eddie is standing with Carla in his kitchen, stacking dishes in the sink to wash later, while Ana and Christopher chat in the other room.

“I admit, I’m surprised,” Carla says in a low enough voice that Eddie knows it won’t carry. She doesn’t need to elaborate – Eddie had thought Ana was pretty when they met, sure, but she’d also been the teacher on duty when Chris got hurt at school last year, which had soured him on her pretty thoroughly at the time.

Eddie shrugs. “I’d been thinking about trying to – you know, get back out there, and then we crossed paths on a call. It felt like fate.”

“Now, since when do you believe in fate?” says Carla.

“She’s perfect, Carla,” Eddie says, feeling a strange kind of desperation well up in his throat. “She’s kind, she’s beautiful, she’s intelligent – Chris loves her, too.”

“Right,” Carla says, flat. “But is it Chris’s heart you’re following here? Fate’s? Or your own?”

And Eddie –

Eddie doesn’t have an answer.

--

They’re on the scene by pure fucking chance.

Eddie had caught onto something being off on their call a few days ago, with the kid and his mom, and he’d given Charlie his phone number in case anything else happened. He’d called this morning, just after Eddie announced that he thought the mom was poisoning him, and Eddie and Buck hadn’t hesitated to go. To help.

They’re chatting with Captain Mehta as they’re loading up into the ambulances when the shot rings out. Buck hears the sound, the echo.

Feels the splatter of warmth across his face and chest, and watches Eddie fall to the pavement.

He’s just standing there, stunned, until someone slams him to the ground, too. Drags him behind the 133’s truck, as shots continue to ring out.

Eddie is on the other side of the engine, the pool of blood underneath him continuing to grow. His eyes are glassy, but his hand inches toward Buck and he knows he needs to do something about it.

Buck takes a deep, sharp breath and rolls under the engine. He crawls on his elbows until he can reach Eddie and catches him by the nearest arm – the injured one, unfortunately, but if the choice is between aggravating the gunshot wound and letting Eddie die, there’s no choice at all.

He drags Eddie under the engine and then hauls him up over his shoulder to climb inside. There is still a sniper shooting at them, which makes the whole situation that much harder.

He gets Eddie as settled as he can across the seats, and it’s awkward but it’s better than nothing. One of the doors gets snapped off as they pull away, and Buck barely notices because he’s busy stopping the bleeding the best he possibly possibly can.

Eddie seems dazed, out of it. But he’s looking at Buck, fixed on his face.

“Are – are you hurt?” he says, slurred.

“What?” Buck says, glancing down at himself. He is covered in blood, but he’s almost a hundred percent certain that it’s all Eddie’s. “No, I’m – I’m okay. I’m okay, but you’ve gotta hold on for me, okay? Eddie? Ed, you’ve gotta hold on. I need you to hold on.”

The next thing Buck knows they’re at the hospital, handing Eddie off to the ER team. And Buck is just – there.

He’s sort of just floating near Emergency, and it takes a few people checking in with him for him to start thinking maybe he should wash some of the blood off. Eddie’s blood. He’s covered in Eddie’s blood.

He’s covered in Eddie’s blood.

He’s covered in Eddie’s blood.

He’s been standing alone in a bathroom for God only knows how long, staring at his reflection and doing jack fucking shit else, when Bobby appears.

“Buck,” he says, and his voice is raw. “Buck, kid, are you okay?”

“Someone shot Eddie,” Buck tells him. His hands are shaking.

“I know, Buck,” says Bobby, “I know. You were with him, though. Are you okay?”

“Someone shot Eddie,” Buck repeats.

Bobby takes a slow breath, considering. “Right. Okay. We’ve got to get you cleaned up. Hen brought a shirt for you, do you think you can change into it yourself, or do you need a hand?”

“I – yeah,” Buck says, “I can do it.”

He does, and then Bobby helps him to clean the blood off of his hands and face. He does it so gently, carefully, that Buck doesn’t know what to do with it.

Hen and Chim are there, waiting, when they finish. Buck can’t stay, though, he has to –

He has to –

The kids.

Christopher.

Christopher has to know what happened; Buck has to tell him what happened.

By sheer chance, both of the kids are at the Diaz house today. Carla offered to watch Marnie with Chris this week while David is out of town visiting his little brother. That’s one less step, which is great for Buck, who is having a lot of trouble with multi-step processes right now.

He steps outside, and a clamor nearby catches his ear and then his eye – media, all trying to get a scoop. Taylor Kelly pushes past the barricade when she sees him.

“Buck!”

“No – no comment,” Buck says, trying to wave her off.

“I’m not looking for a soundbite,” Taylor says. She, too, is approaching him with an almost disconcerting gentleness. “I’m not covering this one. I just – I heard that a firefighter got shot, and you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Right, I – uh, I haven’t been,” Buck says, “I haven’t been checking my phone.”

Taylor scans over him, eyes catching on the pants he hasn’t changed. “Is that blood?”

“Yeah,” says Buck. “It’s, uh, it’s not mine. It’s Eddie’s.”

“Eddie was the firefighter who was shot?” Taylor says. There’s a surprising amount of genuine worry in her voice, given how poorly she and Eddie get along. “Buck, are you okay?”

“I’m – uh,” Buck says. “I wasn’t the one who got shot. Look, I need to go, I need – I need to tell Christopher.”

“Buck,” Taylor says, taking hold of his hands. “You can’t go see his son like this. Is Marnie at home? Or can I take you there to change first?”

“No, Peanut’s with Chris, they’re, uh, they’re both at Eddie’s,” says Buck.

“Then let me take you home,” Taylor says. “Come on.”

Buck does, if only because it feels easier than handling this any other way. He should probably change into clean, non-bloody clothes. He doesn’t have a better way to get home, or to Eddie’s, anyway.

It’s all a blur, just like everything else has been, and then all too soon he’s walking up to Eddie’s front door.

“They’re in Chris’s room,” Carla says as she lets him into the house. “Are you okay?”

Buck shakes his head, silent.

“I can tell them, if you’d prefer,” she offers.

Buck shakes his head again. “No, it has to be me. I – it has to be me.”

So it’s Buck.

He taps on the doorframe as he enters. Chris is playing on his Switch while Marnie watches, her chin hooked over his shoulder.

She looks up first. “Hi, Daddy!”

“Hey, Buck,” Chris says, looking up a moment after. His eyes flick toward the door as Buck walks in. “Where’s Dad?”

“Uh, your dad – your dad’s not going to be home tonight,” Buck says. He kneels in front of the kids at the side of Christopher’s bed. “He got hurt at work today.”

“In a fire?” Marnie asks, her brow furrowing.

“No,” Buck chokes out. “Someone – someone hurt him. On purpose.”

“Someone bad?” says Chris.

“Yeah,” says Buck. “Someone really bad.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Chris asks, quiet.

Buck opens his mouth. Closes it again. He can’t make any promises, he can’t make any promises, his throat is closing and his eyes are prickling and he can’t make any fucking promises.

“Well, your dad – he’s a fighter,” Buck says, instead of answering. “And you know he’s gonna be fighting to get back to you, but –“

In his hands, Buck’s phone chimes.

BOBBY NASH (ICE):

He’s out of surgery. Doctors say it went well.

“Yeah,” Buck finally breathes, “I think he will be.”

He hauls himself up onto the bed, just in time to burst into tears. He feels Chris’s arm slide around his neck, feels Marnie crawl around to his other side to weave her little arms around his waist.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck,” Chris says softly, and Buck can’t help but sob.

The next few days are weird.

They’re weird because Eddie isn’t at work, they’re weird because Eddie getting shot isn’t an isolated incident. They’re weird because everybody keeps looking at Buck like he’s going to shake apart.

They’re weird because he feels like he might.

He isn’t thinking at the crane call beyond the fact that he can’t handle losing anyone else. He can’t watch anyone else die or almost die this week, and if someone is going to get hurt it has to be him. It has to be him.

And Bobby is pissed, he knows that he is, but he doesn’t even hunt Buck down to tell him off, after.

“Aren’t you going to yell at me?” Buck says, because the tension is killing him.

“Why would I?” Bobby says, clipped.

“I don’t know, you usually do,” says Buck.

“What is there to say?”

“Usually it’s – you know, why did you do that, what were you thinking,” Buck rattles off flatly. “Or my personal favorite, you could’ve been killed.”

“Sounds like you know everything I have to say,” says Bobby. “I don’t see the point in saying it if it’s not going to mean anything. If it won’t change your behavior.”

“Bobby –“

“You told me, explicitly, that you weren’t suicidal,” Bobby says, finally turning to face Buck. “Three years ago, do you remember that?”

“I – do?”

“When did that change, Buck?” Bobby asks. “Because, frankly, that’s the only explanation for your behavior that I can think of. This wasn’t you acting impulsively but brilliantly in the heat of the moment – this was pure, unnecessary recklessness. You put your life in danger for no reason, explicitly against orders.”

“Someone had to do it!” snaps Buck. “Someone had to do it, and I could not stand by and let it be any one of you, if I had any choice about it.”

“Buck,” Bobby says, visibly pulling himself back under control, “what happened to Eddie wasn’t your fault.”

“Sure,” says Buck. “But I was still right there, just fucking – watching. Doing nothing.”

“You saved his life,” says Bobby.

“Sure.”

Taylor comes over, later, after checking in that Marnie isn’t home, and also spends five whole minutes also telling Buck off for the crane situation. And Buck appreciates that she cares about him, he really does, but there wasn’t another option. Someone had to climb the crane, and Buck wasn’t about to let it be someone else.

She punctuates this by kissing him, and then obviously and immediately panicking and darting out the front door.

Buck has mixed feelings about this; he likes Taylor a lot, but he also has almost no bandwidth to decide whether that leans romantic right now. It’s probably for the best that she ran away.

All the more true for the fact that his phone starts to ring not twenty seconds after she leaves.

His heart drops as he sees the Caller ID is Ana (Eddie’s GF). But maybe she’ll have good news.

--

Buck arrives less than an hour after Eddie wakes up for good, after slipping in and out for half a day.

He looks – rough.

There’s a buzz about him, for want of a better way to explain. A constant motion even flutterier than usual, fidgety bordering on twitchy. As he takes a seat next to Eddie, he’s got his phone in his hands, his thumb running up and down the side of his phone case in a way that Eddie is well-versed in recognizing as anxious.

Ana leaves, almost immediately. Eddie knows enough of what happened, knows enough of what she knows happened, to understand that she’s giving them some room intentionally.

Buck almost immediately whips his phone out to call the kids, who are still both in the expert care of Carla. They seem in good enough spirits, if still visibly a little bit nervous. Marnie carries nerves just like Buck does, her little hands tapping on the table in front of them, where Christopher’s are a little more subtle but visible in the furrow of his brow and the way he won’t stop watching Eddie, like he’s worried he’ll disappear if he blinks too much.

“Thanks for looking out for Chris,” Eddie says, tired, when they hang up the call.

“Of course,” Buck says. “We’re at your place, by the way. I thought about taking him to mine, or – or Carla offered, too, but I thought given everything it would be better for him to be at home. The kids are enjoying the extended sleepover.”

“I appreciate it,” says Eddie. This is why he’d picked Buck to take Chris if anything happens to him – it’s already his instinct, and he loves Chris like his own. Loves him without even seeming to think about it.

“I gotta say, though, I, uh,” says Buck, stumbling over his words and not meeting Eddie’s eye, “I kind of lost it, when I told them what happened. Completely fell to pieces. I, uh, I couldn’t hold it together.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Eddie assures him. “You’re there for him, for them, while I can’t be. Doesn’t matter if you’ve got it completely together.”

“Still, I – I can’t help but wonder if it would’ve been better if I’d been the one who got shot,” Buck says.

Before Eddie can respond to this utterly insane statement, a doctor comes in to talk to Eddie, and then Ana comes back, and there isn’t an easy way to pick the conversation back up. He definitely doesn’t want to talk about it in front of Ana.

(He likes Ana, he really does, but this feels too personal.)

It’s a few days before he even has a chance to talk to Buck privately again, since Buck is naturally the one to pick him up when he’s discharged. He and Christopher are going to be staying at the Buckleys’ house through the first few weeks of his recovery, since there’s enough beds for all of them there and Buck can help Eddie out and keep eyes on the kids.

Which means that it’s time to talk about something Eddie’s been putting off.

“Should be just a few more minutes, then we’ll be good to go,” Buck says.

“Great,” says Eddie. “Sit down, I want to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” says Buck. He looks almost normal again, less pale and less buzzy.

“You might’ve noticed that I almost died,” Eddie says. “Again. I’ve had a lot of close calls – this wasn’t even my closest.”

“Eddie –“

“Hey, just – let me finish,” says Eddie. “After the last time, when the well collapsed on me –“

“Which you survived,” Buck cuts in, insistent.

Eddie nods, unable to hold back a faint smile. “Right. Well, when that happened, it got me thinking about what would happen to Christopher, if I hadn’t.”

“I remember,” Buck says, softer.

“So I went to my attorney, and changed my will,” Eddie tells him. “So that if anything were to happen to me, Christopher would be taken care of.” He looks across at Buck, steady. “By you.”

“What?”

“It’s in my will that, if I die, you become Christopher’s legal guardian,” Eddie says simply.

“What?” Buck says again, his brow furrowing. “Don’t – don’t you need my consent?”

“My attorney said you could refuse,” Eddie offers, breaking eye contact again.

“I – I wouldn’t,” says Buck.

“Yeah,” Eddie says fondly, “I know you wouldn’t.”

“But – but why me?” says Buck. “I mean – he has – he has grandparents, aunts. Other family.”

Eddie pauses for a moment, processing. It’s strange to him that after all this time, Buck doesn’t understand that this is Eddie telling him that he is family to Christopher. That this week is proof of that.

But also:

“After Shannon died, my parents tried to guilt me into giving Chris to them,” Eddie says. “It wasn’t what I wanted then, it isn’t what I want now. Especially now. Christopher’s life and family are here.”

“Won’t they fight for him, then?” Buck asks, hesitant.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. Then – “Maybe. Probably. But I know that there is nobody in this world who will fight as hard for my son as you will. That is what I want for him.”

“You said you did this a year ago,” Buck says. “Why wait to tell me now?”

Because explaining it feels like opening himself up to more questions, questions he doesn’t have an answer for.

But at the same time, “Because, Evan, you came in here the other day and said you thought it would be better if you had been shot,” Eddie says. He’s surprised by how steady his voice sounds. “You act like you’re expendable.”

He turns back toward Buck, meeting his eye with careful intention.

“But you’re wrong,” he finishes, firm.

“Eddie,” Buck says, scratchy and raw.

“The kids need you,” Eddie reminds him. “I need you. Your family loves you, wants you. Your life is not worth less than everyone else’s, and it’s definitely not worth less than mine.” He sighs. “I know there’s a lot of reasons you’re like this; I just wish I could convince you that you, Evan Buckley, are more than enough.”

“I – I know,” Buck says softly.

“You don’t,” Eddie says, gently fond. “But I’ll keep reminding you.”

Buck brings him home to a little party of sorts. Carla, Chris, Marnie, Abuela, Tía Pepa, and Ana are there with a wonky, lopsided banner hung across the living room wall. The guests don’t stay too long, which Eddie appreciates, just long enough to give him enthusiastic hugs and share a few cupcakes with clearly child-applied frosting.

Then he’s left with just his family, the four of them settling in on the couch to watch a movie Eddie knows he’ll fall asleep halfway through. He’s got Marnie on his bad side, curled up like a cat with her head resting on his leg. His good shoulder is pressed tightly against Buck’s, and Buck has changed into his softest hoodie in anticipation of Eddie dozing off on him. Chris is nestled against Buck’s other side, tucked comfortably under his arm.

The last thought Eddie has, as his head dips onto Buck’s shoulder halfway through “Movin’ Right Along” (even earlier than he thought he’d start to fade, unfortunately), is that this is everything he needs in his life.

And he’s exhausted enough that, for once, he doesn’t even feel guilty about the thought.

Chapter Text

Marnie’s eighth birthday is more of a success than her seventh. The bar is pretty low for that, actually, since even just having their family in the same place is an improvement over last year’s party. It’s still just the family, no friend party this year for obvious reasons, but it’s nice. All of the people who love Marnie most pile into Buck’s house – Buck’s house, intermittently also home to two Diazes, lately, as Eddie recovers from his gunshot wound – and they eat cake and give her more presents than she knows what to do with.

Marnie is beaming up at Buck, who is grinning back, and Eddie’s heart almost aches from how much he loves them. It’s been a really fucking hard year, and the fact that any of them can still smile like that feels like a miracle. Christopher is across the room, chatting animatedly with Denny, wearing one of those cardstock birthday hats at Marnie’s insistence – he’d argued back about it playfully at first, but had given in with a fondness that reminds Eddie of himself and his sisters growing up.

Buck had offered to invite Ana, but it felt too soon. This is Eddie’s whole family in one room, after all, and he’s only been seeing her for four and a half months. Never mind that she’s already met Christopher – she already knew Christopher, and circumstances at the time made that feel like a good move, but introducing her to everyone else feels overwhelming.

She’s met Marnie, Eddie remembers suddenly. She taught at the kids’ school, and Marnie is only one class behind Christopher, and Chris talks about her enough that Ana thought she was his sister. And Eddie can’t quite argue it, except for the fact that he and Buck aren’t like that. That had been a strange thing to explain, somewhere around the time he’d told Christopher he was seeing her.

(“By the way,” he’d said, as casually as possible, “Marnie isn’t technically Christopher’s sister.”

“Technically?” Ana had echoed, looking amused. “What does technically mean?”

“She’s my partner’s daughter,” Eddie had explained. “But they’re very close, and we’ve been – you know, sort of raising them together. So I’m not that surprised he talks about her like she is, but she’s not actually mine.”

“Your partner?” Ana had replied. Her amusement had faded, brow furrowing. “I thought you were single. We’re on a date right now, Edmundo, that’s a hell of a way to tell someone she’s the other woman.”

“What?” Eddie had said, startled. “No, not – it’s not – my work partner. My best friend, Buck.”

Ana had tilted her head. “I see.”

Eddie had tried not to think too hard about how much his chest ached to make the clarification.)

Anyway.

Ana isn’t here, even though she’d been invited – or maybe, more accurately, even though she’d been allowed to be invited – and Eddie is enjoying the day with his family without the pressure of also being Eddie Diaz, Boyfriend.

“I can’t help but notice that your girlfriend isn’t here,” Hen says, catching Eddie in the kitchen midway through the party.

“Buck’s girlfriend isn’t here, either,” Eddie points out nonsensically. He knows exactly why Taylor isn’t here, and it’s not the same reason Ana isn’t.

“Buck’s girlfriend hasn’t met his kid yet,” Hen replies.

Buck is taking it remarkably slowly with Taylor for a lot of reasons. Probably the most important of which is that Taylor is not huge on kids but, apparently, interested in Buck enough to make an exception. And Buck, who is usually self-destructive but is always protective of Marnie, has decided that this means he needs to be absolutely, rock-solid certain of her before he makes the introduction. Of course Taylor wasn’t invited.

“This is a family thing,” Eddie says, not meeting Hen’s eye. “It’s too soon for that.”

“But not too soon for her to spend time with Chris?” says Hen. “Most people introduce their partner to their friends first, I’ve heard.”

“She’s not my –“ Eddie stops. Takes a breath. “Meeting you guys is more like meeting my entire extended family than meeting my friends. We’re all very involved here.”

Hen hums, like she’s understood more from this than Eddie would really like her to. “Well, maybe out for drinks sometime. A little lower pressure than your partner’s daughter’s birthday.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, looking out the window to fully avoid having to see what ever all-too-knowing expression is on Hen’s face. He knows. It’s all just too soon, is the thing. Maybe someday Ana will feel like a partner, but right now she’s – she’s his girlfriend. And partner, in more ways than Eddie is prepared to address, is as yet firmly held by Buck.

“Eddie!” Marnie’s sweet little voice calls from the other room. “Eddie, where did you go?”

“Kitchen, Peanut,” Eddie calls back. “I’ll be right back.”

“Be fast!” Marnie says. “Daddy says it’s almost cake time!”

Eddie finally lets himself look at Hen. She still looks like she knows something, but it’s a little softer. “It’s cake time.”

“Duty calls,” Hen says, gesturing for Eddie to lead the way down the hall. He’s not sure what to do with that.

He’s not sure what to do with any of it.

Eddie recertifies for work a few weeks later, the recovery from this gunshot as quick and easy as it’s possible for recovering from a through-and-through shoulder wound to be. He’s tense at work, but it’s fine. It’s fine.

The kids are both obviously stressed about him going back to work, which is a little harder to wrap his head around. He’s handling it, though. He’s handling it and it’s fine.

And then there’s the Ana of it all.

He’s trying to spend more time with her, to spend more time with Chris with her, because that feels like what he should be doing. He should be putting real effort into making this relationship into something, right? He should be enjoying his time with her and not – and not whatever it is this is.

A few weeks after Marnie’s birthday, Eddie does end up inviting Ana out for drinks. He’s pretty sure that Buck invites Taylor, too, but it’s probably for the best that she doesn’t show up. It’s not just that Eddie doesn’t like her, it’s that there’s a general consensus around the firehouse that that relationship can only end badly. Taylor has too many sharp edges to mesh easily with Buck in the long term, and frankly he can not see her stepping into any kind of relationship with Marnie that would make Buck happy.

But Ana.

Ana comes out for drinks, and it’s fine. It’s totally fine!

(Everything is fine, and nothing is good.)

Buck is making a meaningful effort to be friendly with her, but Eddie can see that there’s a tension between them. If Eddie had to guess, he’d hazard that it has to do with the shooting or maybe, to a lesser degree, the kids. Whatever the reason, it’s sort of oozing all over the conversation with everyone else.

Eddie doesn’t really know what to make of the fact that the rest of the team is very clearly taking a cue from Buck on Ana. But it’s very clearly true: no one is being rude, everyone is, in fact, being incredibly kind and welcoming, but conversation continues to trip over the places where Eddie and Buck have woven their lives together so tightly they’re functionally singular. Eddie isn’t even certain that they know how tightly interwoven Eddie and Buck’s life has become, and yet they still continue to stumble over it anyway.

“Do you think they liked me?” Ana says as they leave. “I really wasn’t sure.”

“They liked you,” Eddie assures her, even though he isn’t actually sure. “Believe me, they’re not good at hiding when they dislike someone.”

That part is true.

  Eddie throws himself into the relationship as much as he can. He trades off days watching the kids with Buck so they can each go on dates with their respective girlfriends and doesn’t think about how much he wishes it were the four of them spending time together instead. He takes Ana on dates, spends cozy evenings in. Flirts with her, charms her, sleeps with her.

Says yes when she asks him and Christopher to come with her to her cousin’s baby’s christening.

And then has a panic attack – although that’s not what anyone thinks it is at first – when someone calls her Christopher’s mom at a store.

He doesn’t know what that’s about, exactly. Like, obviously it’s too soon for anybody to be thinking she’s Chris’s mom, but at the same time –

At the same time –

Isn’t that the point of all this? Isn’t that where they’re going, if it works out?

Why does it feel like someone’s digging into his chest with a spoon every time he thinks about it? Why does he have such an immediate, visceral reaction to the idea of Ana being Christopher’s mother? Of her being Eddie’s wife?

He doesn’t actually get time to really soul-search about it, because just a handful of days later, a massive blackout hits Los Angeles, and all hands are on deck.

Ana is with Chris when the lights go out. She texts to tell Eddie that she’s alright to stay with him as long as he needs to be at work, and it should be a relief. It should be amazing to know that his girlfriend is willing to help him out like this, to know that his son likes her well enough that she’d been looking after him that day in the first place.

It isn’t.

Instead, it’s its own source of stress: at the end of all of this, Eddie will have to see her.

He puts it out of his mind for as long as possible.

A bunch of animals somehow manage to escape the LA Zoo, and Buck spends the whole way to the call rattling off the most dangerous animals they might encounter. Buck has spent days and days at the zoo with the kids, the three of them very particular about their routes and snack spots and favorite animals, and Eddie can’t help the warm fondness that sweeps through him as he listens to Buck. Eddie doesn’t always – or even usually, if he’s honest – go to the zoo with them, it’s usually a Buck Day activity, but he loves to hear about it from them even when he doesn’t go. This is no exception, really; it’s not altogether different to listening to the bright, brilliant enthusiasm for learning and animals that both kids have easily picked up from Buck’s example.

The animal call is difficult and dangerous, but almost fun.

That afternoon – late afternoon – Ana and Christopher drop by the station.

Now, usually, Eddie loves when Chris and Marnie visit. He still does, today, because he loves his son more than anything in the entire world, but –

“You must be Eddie’s wife,” Ravi, who’d bumped up from B-shift over the summer and stuck with them now Eddie is back, assumes.

Eddie doesn’t know what his face does, but the next thing he knows, Ana and Chris and Buck are all blurting No! in broken near-unison.

Eddie flushes, embarrassed.

“Ana is my girlfriend, Ravi,” Eddie corrects awkwardly, and doesn’t meet her eye as he turns back toward her and Chris. “Hey, why don’t y’all go up to the loft with Buck? I’ll be right behind you, I just have to finish –“ he waves vaguely in the direction of a task that doesn’t exist. “Anyway, Buck knows more about the kitchen situation than I do.”

“Always,” Buck says, light and teasing and normal.

“That sounds great,” Ana says, also almost painfully normal. Eddie can hear the strain in her voice, but he’s certain Ravi won’t.

“I am so sorry,” Ravi says as soon as they all walk away. “I didn’t even think – I really admire how well you and Buck get on after the divorce, you know, but of course the new partner is a touchy subject –“

“Sorry,” Eddie cuts in, “after the what?”

 “The, uh, divorce?” says Ravi, floundering.

“Whose divorce?” says Eddie, also floundering. He’s so confused that Ravi has almost startled him completely out of his panic.

“You and Buck’s?” Ravi says, the questioning tilt starting almost from the first syllable.

Eddie wheezes something adjacent to a laugh. “Buck and I aren’t – we aren’t divorced.”

“Oh!” Ravi says, like this explains everything. “So it’s, like, an open marriage or –“

“We’re not – there’s no – we are in two separate, unconnected romantic relationships,” Eddie says. The tension in his chest has started to build again.

“Really?” Ravi says, visibly stunned. “I just – your kids, you always talk about them like – and also the two of you are so – you’re telling me you’ve never been married to Buck?”

“No,” Eddie chokes out. “We’re both –“ straight catches in his throat for some reason. “No. We – no.”

“Oh,” says Ravi. “Uh, I am so sorry, man.”

“No, it’s,” Eddie says, “fine.”

He turns on his heel to walk to the bathroom where he can give himself thirty seconds to get his breathing back under control before he goes up to the loft where his girlfriend, his son, and his partner are waiting for him.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

Eddie catches his breath. Checks his reflection to make sure he looks normal and reasonable and not like he was just on the verge of another panic attack, and heads upstairs.

Christopher and Ana don’t stay too long, in the grand scheme, but it’s plenty long enough. Chris charms all of the firefighters who’ve never met him before, all the B and C shifters wedged into the station with them, naturally. Eddie hears at least two of the non-family A-shifters ask where his partner in crime is, and while he misses Chris’s answer the first time, the second, he says:

“Athena prefers we call it hijinks, not crime.”

Eddie laughs, caught off guard. It’s such a Buck tone, too, which really does nothing to refute the frequent assumption that he’s Chris’s other parent.

(Why does the assumption that Ana is Chris’s other parent make Eddie panic, when the assumption that Buck is Chris’s other parent just floods him with this comfortable, fond warmth?)

They get another callout before too long, and Eddie and Buck both give Chris tight squeezes goodbye. Eddie kisses Ana goodbye as well, and the whole process is very conscious, rather than automatic the way he’d expect it to be with a woman he’s been seeing for almost half a year.

After a harrowing near-miss at a hospital – they were actually already there, when a helicopter had been blown half off of the roof with three people and a heart for transplant inside – at which the cardiologist Eddie had seen when he’d had his panic attack they thought was a heart attack greeted him familiarly and checked in, Eddie finds himself sitting knee-to-knee with Buck in the cot-filled station gym. He hadn’t told Buck about the panic attack, is the thing. He’s mostly been trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

But Buck now knows that something is wrong, and Eddie can’t deny him anything when it matters.

“It wasn’t a heart attack, Buck,” he finds himself saying, tired. “It was a panic attack.”

“Panic?” Buck echoes. He doesn’t look any less concerned. “Since when you panic?”

Eddie shrugs. He can’t meet Buck’s eye. “Dunno. It was – strange.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, soft but insistent. “What happened?”

Eddie very seriously contemplates lying. But it’s Buck.

“Somebody called Ana Christopher’s mom,” Eddie admits. “Somebody assumed that my girlfriend was my son’s mother, and I panicked. So hard that I ended up in the ER. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Eddie,” Buck says again.

“I keep waiting for this relationship to click,” confesses Eddie, looking down at his hands. “Waiting for it to feel right, waiting to fall in love with her. I keep telling myself that I need to stick it out –“

“Stick it out?” says Buck.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I know how that must sound, but I – I keep feeling like I haven’t given it a fair shot, like if I just keep trying I’ll feel something – else.”

“That’s not how you should talk about your – person you’re in a relationship with,” Buck says, a little stilted, but not judgmental. It’s an observation, not an accusation.

“She’s perfect,” Eddie says, feeling almost desperate. There’s a stutter in Buck’s expression, something sour crossing it for a fraction of a second. “She’s – she’s funny and smart and gorgeous and Christopher loves her, and she is everything that my parents always wanted for me.”

“Sure, maybe,” says Buck. “But if you don’t actually feel anything for her, then continuing the relationship isn’t fair to anyone. Not to Chris, who’s getting attached to someone who probably won’t be permanent, not to Ana, who can definitely tell you’re not all-in, and – and definitely not to you, if you’re so worked up over it that you’re having panic attacks.”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, maybe.”

He twists to lay down on his cot, but Buck reaches over to tap his thigh twice to recapture his attention.

“I meant to tell you this yesterday, but obviously it was –“ Buck waves vaguely to encompass how the last 36 hours have gone. “Davey said he can take Chris any time, and he’s good to keep him until we get home. So, if you don’t want to – I mean, not to make an assumption, but if you don’t want to see her, you could have her drop him off at mine, and you could deal with that when you’re less exhausted.”

“Maybe,” says Eddie.

“Just wanted you to know you have the option.”

“Thanks.”

And then Harry Grant is kidnapped.

Eddie doesn’t even think – he texts Ana as soon as they hear.

Hey. Could you drop Chris at Buck’s? Marnie’s nanny said he’d take him.

Ana’s response is quick. Are you sure? I’m fine to keep watching him until you’re done.

Family emergency. Want him and M together for peace of mind. Nanny’s name is David, he’ll be expecting you. And he will be, since Buck texted him as soon as he saw what Eddie was doing.

Harry was taken by the serial rapist who’d almost killed Athena a year and a half ago, who had escaped from custody in the chaos of the blackout. It seems pretty plainly to be retaliation for Athena shooting his dick off, and no one else is likely in danger, but it still makes Eddie feel better to know that at the end of it all he’ll be able to see both of his kids, no matter what happens.

They find Harry, trapped inside of a wall in a new housing development, and he’s shaken but whole and alive and the rest is manageable. Alive is the first step toward okay.

Eddie wishes, desperately, that their family was less intimately aware of that fact.

He trails home after Buck, when the lights have come back and their shift is finally fucking over, only driving his own vehicle home because he knows going back to the station for it later will be a pain in the ass.

Having Ana bring Chris over was definitely the right call, because after everything with Harry, seeing both kids side-by-side happy and whole finally lets Eddie breathe properly again. He scoops Chris into a hug first before trading kids with Buck – they don’t even set them down on their feet, just swap via a group hug.

“Thanks, Dave,” Eddie says, his eyes on Buck and the kids, visible through the kitchen door. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Childcare is literally my job,” David points out.

“And you just did way more work than you’re usually paid to,” says Eddie. “I can’t even tell you how much it means to be able to come home to both of them, after this week.”

“I’m happy to help,” says David. “Buck mentioned the situation with Harry; I’m sure it’s a relief to come home to your own kids after a close call like that with a friend’s.”

Eddie nods.

(David and Carla both do that – refer to the kids in possessive plural, the way that Eddie and Buck both tend to. No one else Eddie can think of has any idea how much they’ve stitched their family together.)

Eddie and Christopher stay the night with the Buckleys, because of course they do. They stay up late watching a movie because they can, because there are lights and internet and television again, and then Marnie and Chris drop off one after the other and get carried to Marnie’s room. Their fathers don’t make it much longer, falling asleep with Buck’s bedroom fan on high.

It's easy.

It’s perfect.

Eddie breaks up with Ana the next day.

--

Maddie stops by the morning after the blackout ends, an hour or two after the Diazes leave. Buck gets to hold his sweet baby niece for twenty minutes while Maddie explains that she’s leaving, again.

It’s different, this time.

She’s been struggling, apparently. A lot more than she’s been letting anyone – even Buck – see. He’d known she quit her job a few months back, but frankly he’d assumed it was about wanting to spend more time with Jee while she’s small, and that’s because that’s what she’d wanted him to assume. She didn’t want him to worry, she says.

Well, he’s fucking worried.

“I just need some time,” Maddie says, her eyes glassy with tears. “To figure myself out, to make sure that I can be – that I can be safe for Jee-Yun to be around.”

“Maddie –“ Buck says, but she cuts him off.

“I have to go,” she says. “I just – I couldn’t leave without telling you. Not after – after everything.”

“And I appreciate you stopping by, but –“

“Evan,” says Maddie.

Buck sighs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Maddie replies, gummy with tears.

He sets Jee down in her carrier so that he can pull his big sister into a tight, tight hug, the last one he’ll get from her for who knows how long.

“Please don’t tell Chimney,” she murmurs into his shirt. “Let me – I’m leaving him a message.”

“I won’t,” Buck promises, because he can’t deny her anything. “I won’t, I promise.”

In the end, she leaves Jee-Yun at the station in Ravi’s care when she goes. Her message for Chim is a video call. For all that Buck tries to talk him down, Chim won’t stop trying to read more into it than Maddie meant him to – he’s been insisting on trying to track her down, to go after her, and no matter what Buck says, he won’t let it go.

When Chim finds out that he’s keeping secrets, Buck gets a black eye for his troubles. Like Chim has any fucking ground to stand on when it comes to keeping secrets for Maddie. Buck doesn’t even know where she’s gone! Just the why, just the way Maddie felt like she couldn’t trust herself.

Just the courtesy of a goodbye, for himself and for Marnie.

Chimney leaves. He is still pissed off when he goes, so he doesn’t give Buck a chance to say goodbye to Jee-Yun. He doesn’t even give Marnie a chance to say goodbye to Jee-Yun, which Buck thinks is unfair.

“Not that any of it is fair,” Buck grumbles, glaring down at his ice pack. “He covers for a secret Maddie asks him to keep and I’m just supposed to be chill with it. I keep a secret for Maddie, and I get a black eye. She’s my sister, I know her, I know what she needs from me.”

Eddie hums. “Yeah, and he’s her partner. You’ve got different roles in her life; she needs different things from you. I’m not saying he was in the right to hit you, but I can understand where he’s coming from.”

“She asked me not to tell him about it,” Buck says. “So I didn’t tell him. But she’s a big girl, sometimes she just needs time alone to process shit. She’ll come back. She always comes back.”

“I’m not doubting that you know her,” says Eddie, placating. “Put the damn ice on your eye, it’s melting.”

“Fine,” Buck says, finally holding the ice pack to his smarting face.

“I’m just saying,” Eddie says, like he hadn’t interrupted himself, “that you’re her baby brother. And maybe she feels like she has to pull herself together on her own for you, because you need her to be strong. And Chimney, her partner, sees a different angle than you do. One that lets him know that she might need someone to lean on this time.”

“Maybe,” says Buck.

“Anyway,” Eddie says, casual as anything, “if it were reversed, and Maddie were keeping shit from me about you, I’d be pretty pissed off, too.”

“Yeah,” Buck concedes. “You probably would.”

Work is fucking strange without Chim.

Eddie hops over to assist Hen in the ambulance, since he’s got the med training if not the official certification. It’s easier on everyone than floater paramedics would be, but still weird. He and Hen don’t have the same rhythm that either of them do with their usual partners.

Buck is working primarily with Ravi, which is fine. It’s fine! Ravi is a decent probie who could definitely be a really good full firefighter someday. Buck throws himself into his training because it’s the only thing that he can focus on without feeling like he’s going to vibrate apart.

Because everything, everything feels off right now.

Hen and Eddie are tripping over each other, Bobby is distracted. The feeling of the team is fractured and off-kilter. Buck feels like it’s his fault.

No – Buck knows that it’s his fault, because he’d let Maddie run and pissed Chim off and then he’d run, too. He can’t keep his feelings about all of that from spilling all over the place at work, either, because at home he needs to be calm and rational and normal about the whole thing for his eight-year-old who understands too much about everything these days.

So he’s thrown himself into training Ravi, because if Ravi is good then Buck can leave and everything can be okay at the 118 without him.

Everyone insists, when this plan comes out, that Buck is not the problem. But Buck feels like the problem, doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s worried that Eddie is pulling away, watching the line of tension in his shoulders tighten without ever letting Buck start a conversation about it. He’s worried that Hen and Bobby will resent him for driving Chimney away, if only by proxy. He’s worried that Ravi will hate him for being a terrible mentor.

“Buck, baby,” Athena says, and her hand feels so small on his arm, “breathe.”

“Can’t,” Buck chokes out.

“I know you can, come on,” says Athena. She takes a few slow, over-exaggerated breaths, carrying on until Buck starts to follow.

“Sorry,” he says, when he’s pulled himself together. He scrubs clumsily at his eyes. “I just – everything’s –“

“I know,” Athena says, more gently than Buck feels like he deserves. “But it’s not your fault, Buck. Not your sister leaving, not Chimney leaving, not any of what’s happening at the station. And I know that Bobby has told you that.”

“He has,” says Buck. “And – and Hen, and Eddie, but I – I just – what if it is?”

“One of these days, I’m going to have words with your parents,” Athena says, more to herself than to Buck. Full-voiced, she says, “You are not responsible for the mental and emotional well-being of everyone in your life. You’re not responsible for the mental and emotional well-being of anyone, except for yourself, Marnie, and maybe Christopher Diaz.”

 “Yeah,” Buck says, ragged.

“Things are strange, but they won’t be strange forever,” she assures him. “This will pass; it always does.”

She lets him tuck himself against her side, which shouldn’t work with how much bigger he is than she is, but does. Maybe it’s a mom thing; Buck wouldn’t know, since Margaret Buckley has never exactly exuded maternal warmth. Maybe it’s the way Buck has spent his entire life training himself to be as small and invisible as possible.

“Sorry to drop another crisis on you,” Buck murmurs, once he’s got himself together a little more. “I know May and Harry are both having rough times lately.”

“May wants to handle everything on her own, and Harry’s problem is with me,” Athena says. She squeezes him a little tighter against him. “At least one of my kids wants to let me help him.”

He leaves Athena and Bobby’s house feeling more human, less liable to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces if Ravi rolls a hose wrong.

Then they’re called to the prison riot.

And, more pressingly, get tangled up in the prisoner escape, finding themselves and the ambulance held hostage.

“Cute kids,” the guy with the gun says, pulling out the photo of Chris and Marnie with their faces smushed together that Eddie keeps in his wallet. “Bet they live with you at – 4995 South Bedford Street?”

Buck can’t help lunging forward. “Hey –“

Eddie throws an arm across his middle. “Buck.”

But even the threat to their kids, which is largely abstract even if it sends ice down Buck’s spine, is easier than leaving Eddie behind in the ambulance with Mitchell and a gun. Buck is pretty proud of himself for keeping it together after Eddie got shot, all things considered. He broke down with the kids, but only once, and he’s been doing a pretty good job of not completely melting down any time he thinks of it or it comes up in conversation the way he’d really like to.

He is on the verge of melting down now.

He’s buzzing, skin tingling, feet shifting, hands fidgeting. He’s talking to Athena, breathing as deliberately normal as he can achieve.

A gunshot shatters Buck’s carefully laid veneer of normalcy.

He’s running before Athena can stop him, shouting Eddie’s name. His voice already sounds wrecked the very first time he opens his mouth, like he’s been screaming all the way here since May.

Eddie is fine, the gunshot wasn’t through him this time, but Buck is shaken. He’s really fucking shaken.

After everything, Bobby brings them both home. Separately. To separate houses.

Buck aches a little, to let Eddie out of his sight. But Eddie is fine, Eddie is shockingly, competently fine, and Buck is falling to pieces.

Eddie’s been pulling away, distant. Buck feels like he’s going to shake apart.

Taylor goes to Oklahoma.

It’s a whole thing, figuring out what’s going on, getting her to open up enough to explain where she’s going and why. Once she does, it feels like the obvious thing to go after her, to support her. Buck is her boyfriend, after all, and it’s his job to have her back.

In the end, she’s the only person in his life right now who is letting him support her.

He leaves Marnie with Bobby and Athena, because if he has to have a conversation with Eddie about anything important he’s going to remember how fragile he’s feeling and end up staying in California.

When they get home, on the other side, Buck finds himself in Taylor’s perfect, sharp-feeling apartment, leaning against her kitchen counter, trying to convince himself that he loves her. That’s what this was, right? He loves her. He definitely –

He loves her.

Right?

Right?

Taylor’s apartment is strange. Buck hasn’t actually spent all that much time here in daylight, all things considered. They’re both busy; it can be difficult to find time. But her apartment is like her – beautiful, practical, almost dangerous. Everything is in sharp, clean, perfect lines. Hard corners. All the mess – and there is mess – tucked away behind the perpetually-closed bedroom door.

Also, her kitchen is laid out for absolute shit.

It’s such an odd contrast to Buck’s own house, which is full of warm light and soft edges, constantly spilling over with the chaos of two kids and a disorganized adult.

Taylor is telling Buck she loves him.

Buck says it back.

--

Eddie has been –

Eddie has been.

It’s been a weird year.

He’s been mostly handling it.

Buck almost letting himself die on a call, Eddie getting shot, the whole thing with Ana, almost getting shot again – Eddie has been handling it.

But Christopher is worried that Eddie is going to die.

And all at once, Eddie goes from handling it to barely holding it together.

He tries to come up with a good way to help Chris feel better. Tries to come up with a way to trick his brain into forgetting how dangerous it is to fucking exist.

He can’t do this.

He’s been pushing through, managing, and now he can’t anymore. Can’t convince himself that it’s working anymore. He needs –

It’s hard, deciding to leave the 118. It’s really fucking hard. Because on the one hand, he needs Chris to feel like Eddie is safe, he needs himself to get the fuck back under control. On the other, he loves firefighting, loves the people he works with even if it’s fractured and fragile right now, loves Buck and feels best when he’s the one that has Buck’s back. He won’t necessarily lose all of those things, if he leaves the 118, but it will be different.

He won’t lose Buck and Marnie, but it will be different.

But he has to. He knows that he has to. That it’s the only thing he can think of that could maybe, possibly help.

Eddie talks to Bobby on no less than three separate occasions before he’ll accept the transfer request and put it through. Talks out all of the ways that he’s feeling uncertain right now, explains how worried Christopher is, explains how much more this year has been weighing on him than he’s been willing to admit, even to Buck. Bobby puts the transfer through.

There’s probably a better time to tell the team than what he ends up with, but it’s too late to change his mind now.

He’s standing in front of Buck and Hen and Ravi and Buck has this pinched worry on his face and that almost-shake of restless energy in his hands, and Eddie just blurts it out.

“I’m leaving the 118.”

Hen and Ravi both give him hugs, both express that they’ll miss him but hope that the change will be good for him.

Buck is just staring at him, wide-eyed and shellshocked. Eddie can see that his breathing is off, too shallow, and he hates that this is his fault. He has to pull back, he has to get his shit together, but he hates, hates, hates to be another person leaving Buck. Even if he isn’t actually going anywhere.

He’d kind of braced for Buck to be upset about this, but he was sort of expecting anger. Not –

This.

“Buck –“

“No, I’m – you do what’s best for you,” Buck says. He isn’t meeting Eddie’s eye anymore, fixed somewhere over his shoulder. “I’m just, uh, surprised?”

“Sorry,” says Eddie, and he means it. He hears the unspoken end of it: that he and Buck had been alone together not four hours ago, while the kids played with new toys in a sea of wrapping paper.

But he couldn’t tell Buck this alone, four hours ago, because alone, four hours ago, Buck could’ve talked him out of it. He really, really could have. And Eddie needed to not be talked out of it. He needs this, he knows he does.

He just doesn’t think he’d have been able to say it with enough conviction to convince Buck. Buck probably – definitely – did deserve the intimate courtesy of being told alone, or at least not at the same time as Ravi, but Eddie couldn’t stomach it.

He’s already leaving the 118, and breaking his own heart. He couldn’t bear to watch Buck’s break, too.

“Right,” Buck says, clipped. “I’m going to – I’m – Bobby. I’m going to go talk to Bobby. He looks like he needs help with the – paper plates.”

And then he walks away, past Eddie without even brushing their shoulders together.

Well.

That couldn’t have gone any worse.

Chapter Text

Buck is worried about Eddie.

Big fucking surprise.

The thing is, there isn’t much Buck can do. Eddie left the 118, is doing some department liaison job at Metro Dispatch that has him mostly operating the LAFD Twitter account, and he isn’t fucking telling Buck anything. Every time they see each other – which is often, for the fucking record – he looks more tired, more worn down. But he won’t tell Buck what’s going on in his head so Buck can’t help him comb through it. Added onto that, Buck is still at the 118, working without Eddie, so he’s tense, too.

Buck hates working without Eddie. Hates it.

Everything is weird and he’s off-balance, and Bobby keeps offering up perfectly reasonable temp partners that make Buck feel like he’s losing his mind. He’s doing the job and it’s fine, but Eddie is pulling away and Maddie is still gone and Chimney is still gone and Buck can’t be a mess where his daughter can see him and he can’t be a mess at work so he’s dealing. He’s fucking dealing.

Everything is weird and Buck is fine.

But Eddie isn’t fine. Eddie isn’t fine and he’s barely even hiding it, and Buck doesn’t know what to do. They keep spending time together, but it’s different. It’s different.

The longer Eddie is away from the 118 the more different it gets.

They have dinner together a few times a week, awkward and stilted and trying to be as normal as possible for Marnie and Chris. Eddie spends time with Marnie away from Buck, too, because he’s pulling away from Buck but he’s not going to stop showing up for Marnie.

It becomes a shuffle of kids back and forth, more and more strange every time.

Buck is fucking worried.

“You know, you could just ask Eddie how he’s doing,” May says, the fourth or fifth time Buck asks her.

“He’s not talking to me,” Buck says, and it’s not a whine but it’s probably something close.

“You two have somehow managed to be more divorced than my parents,” May says. She reaches over to pat Buck’s hand as he makes an involuntary, choked noise.

“Your parents almost completely skipped the awkward phase,” Buck says. “That’s not fair.”

“So you admit that you’re divorced,” says May, a teasing light in her eye.

“May,” says Buck.

“I’m calling it like I see it,” she says. “And that’s from both of you, by the way. He gets weird and withdrawn whenever somebody asks about his kids directly, probably because it’s impossible to talk about them without talking about you.”

“But that’s the thing!” says Buck, trying not to linger too long on the thought. “Why would he avoid talking about me, May? Why is he being so weird about all of this?”

“Well you certainly haven’t stopped talking about him,” May says in a low voice, rolling her eyes. Then, full voiced, “Look, Buck, I don’t know. And you won’t know until you talk to him.”

“I keep trying,” Buck says. “But, like, I can’t bring it up in front of the kids because he wants the kids to think he’s fine. And that’s fine! That’s whatever, right? But then I get him alone, and he still won’t fucking talk about it. I’m worried. Does he look like he’s been sleeping enough to you? I don’t think he’s sleeping.”

May sighs. “He does look tired.”

“See?” says Buck. “If everything is fine, why wouldn’t he be sleeping?”

“I don’t know, Buck,” says May.

Buck puts his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know I’m – I know. I just – he’s not talking to me, and I’m so fucking worried, and –“

“Buck,” May cuts in, “it’s fine. He’s your partner, and right now I’m seeing more of him than you are. I get it. And –“ she rests a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he looks up to speak again. She has an expression almost uncannily like her mother’s. “I know that I’m not the sister you’d like to go to with your relationship troubles, but I’m touched to be the backup. I tease, but it’s fine.”

“Still,” says Buck. “I’ve been, uh, monopolizing lunch. Tell me about Claudette, is she still being a bitch?”

May’s startled laugh eases the weight in his chest a little bit.

There is a call that everyone will later tell Buck is weirdly reminiscent of a movie, but in the moment Buck doesn’t have the bandwidth to notice. He doesn’t think he’s seen it, anyway. He’s strung tight, tight, tight, and it doesn’t start to loosen until he hears Eddie’s cool, confident voice take over the call. Everything has been weird, and this call is intense in a way they rarely encounter, and Buck trusts Eddie with his life on a deep, instinctive level.

Eddie’s not there, on the rig waiting to jump into a moving car at highway speed, but he’s there anyway, and Buck can breathe through it.

Despite the insane circumstances, it’s the most real and normal Buck has felt at work in weeks.

They go out for drinks, after the shift. Buck invites Eddie.

Buck always invites Eddie, but this time it really seems like he’ll show up, because he was involved in their big, high-adrenaline call. Because this time he says he will.

They’ve been there for maybe forty-five minutes, Buck sitting between Ravi and Lucy from the call feeling more like himself than he has in a while, when Eddie texts.

I don’t think I’m gonna make it. Raincheck?

Suddenly Buck isn’t feeling so hot anymore, actually. He throws himself into the conversation, trying to keep the everything is fine and cool and normal momentum. Says yes when Lucy suggests pool and margaritas. Continues to say yes to additional margaritas.

He doesn’t mean to kiss Lucy.

But also.

He doesn’t not mean to kiss Lucy, is the thing. He’s feeling –

He’s feeling –

It’s weird, actually, how he’s feeling.

Everything is weird, these days. Everything is weird, and Buck has that itch under his skin again, telling him to make a bad choice. It’s a familiar feeling. The world feels off-balance, out of control, sweeping Buck away in a tide of things he has to just let wash over him.

Those have always been the times where Buck makes decisions.

He’s not going to go throwing himself into danger this time. Not going to climb a crane with an active sniper targeting firefighters, not going to crash the motorcycle he doesn’t have anymore.

But he is going to let this happen.

Going to kiss Lucy back. Going to let this have whatever impact it’s going to have on his relationship with Taylor.

(On his relationship with Eddie.)

He knows as he’s doing it that it’s a bad idea.

He knows.

But it’s been a long time since he made a really stupid choice, Buck thinks, and he’s had such a shitty fucking year. He deserves to do something that’ll feel like control over his own fucking life, even if that control is in the form of potentially ruining everything.

And he knows he’s got to tell Taylor about it. It’s hit him before he’s even home that he’s got to tell Taylor about it. He’s got enough clarity, even as he’s stepping away from Lucy, to know that he’s just made one of those choices.

He’s got enough clarity, as he stands in front of Taylor later, to almost regret it.

But Buck isn’t done self-destructing, apparently.

“Everything okay?” Taylor says. She’s got that little crease between her brows, the slight tilt to her head, that tell Buck she’s trying to read him. She’s usually trying to read him; Buck isn’t sure how often she succeeds.

“Hmm?” Buck replies. It comes out strange, higher pitched than he intends.

“You’ve got a weirdly intense look on your face,” says Taylor.

“I – uh,” says Buck, “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

Taylor’s head tilts further. “Yeah?”

“I –“

I kissed another woman yesterday.

I kissed another woman yesterday.

I kissed another woman yesterday.

I feel guilty. Because I kissed another woman yesterday.

And yet, what he says is, “I’ve been wondering if you wanted to meet Marnie.”

And when Taylor lights up, fond and soft and warmer than even Buck usually ever sees, he knows he’s made another mistake.

No.

Not a mistake.

A really fucking bad decision.

--

Taylor is nice enough, Marnie supposes.

She doesn’t seem to have spent a lot of time around kids, and she wears that awkwardness kind of strangely, like she isn’t used to being wrongfooted. That’s kind of cool, actually. Like she’s not usually out of her element.

Marnie has never met one of Dad’s girlfriends. He hasn’t dated very much, she doesn’t think. He used to go out in the evenings more, when she was little and he wasn’t a firefighter yet, but she doesn’t think he was really dating then. The first time he ever told her about a girlfriend was Abby, back when firefighting was still new. Before Eddie and Christopher.

He dated someone else after that, Marnie thinks. She has a vague memory of hearing Dad and Eddie talk about an Ali here and there, and Marnie thinks that she was probably Dad’s girlfriend since it was at the same time as Christopher’s Mom was around and also Eddie didn’t seem to like her that much.

If he’s dated anyone else, Marnie doesn’t know about it.

She’s certainly never met any of them.

Anyway: a few days ago, Dad came home and asked if Marnie was okay with meeting Taylor. Marnie had shrugged, mostly indifferent. She’s been curious, naturally, but not so much so that she’d been actively looking to meet her.

Dad started seeing Taylor right after Eddie got hurt last year. It’s been almost a year.

Marnie is curious. But she also has more important things to worry about, like the fact that Dad and Eddie have been awkward and weird since Christmas.

Case in point: Marnie is at Eddie’s house tonight. Dad is not working, but Dad is not here.

“Anything else interesting going on at school, Peanut?” Eddie asks. Eddie is the only person besides Dad who calls her that.

Marnie shrugs. “I beat the green mad minute.”

“Nice,” says Eddie.

“That’s, like, second-to-last,” says Chris. “How close is your class to the ice cream party?”

“Not that close,” says Marnie. “Like half of us weren’t even on green yet.”

Chris hums sympathetically. “Well, I’m pretty sure they’d do the ice cream party at the end even if not everybody finishes their sundae.”

“Yeah, probably,” Marnie says. It’s the principle of the thing.

“You’re getting pretty good at those,” says Eddie. “How’d we end up with two little geniuses in this family, huh? I know neither of you picked it up from me or Buck.”

“Dad is pretty bad at math,” Marnie concedes.

“Buck’s plenty smart, Dad,” says Chris. “He knows stuff about everything.”

Eddie’s face does this dumb, sappy expression for a second. “Yeah, he kind of does, doesn’t he?”

And then he seems to remember he’s talking about Dad, and it gets almost sad. Almost, like he’s hiding it.

See?

Weird.

“I met Dad’s girlfriend the other day,” Marnie says suddenly. Not school related. But she’s curious about this, too.

“Taylor?” Eddie says. He scrunches his nose, like he’s tasted something gross. Marnie happens to know that the food he’s eating – homemade chicken tenders with potato chip breading – is pretty good, so she thinks that it must be about Taylor, and not his dinner.

“Yeah,” says Marnie.

“And what did you think of her?” Eddie says carefully. He’s gotten his expression back under control.

Marnie shrugs again. “I don’t know. She seems nice.”

Eddie tilts his head in a way that Marnie knows means he is deciding not to say something that he is thinking. She knows this because Eddie has been one of her grownups for a very long time. She knows this because she and Christopher both do it too.

“I’m glad that she seems nice,” Eddie says. It seems very deliberate.

“You’ve met her, haven’t you, Eddie?” Marnie asks. “Do you like her?”

“She is very good at her job,” says Eddie. This is not an answer to the question. Neither is, “Your dad seems to like her a lot.”

Marnie looks at her brother. Chris is looking back with an expression that says he got exactly the same thing from that as she did: Eddie does not like Taylor one little bit.

That’s interesting.

Maybe that’s why Eddie and Dad are being weird.

“Do you think I’ll get to meet her?” Chris muses.

“I’m sure you will, if she’s planning on sticking around,” Eddie says toward the ceiling. “Maybe we can have her over for family dinner sometime.”

Marnie and Chris exchange another look.

“Sure, Dad,” says Chris.

Dad picks both her and Christopher up from Eddie’s house the next morning, so that he can take them out to the zoo. He and Eddie barely talk the whole time they’re shuffling Marnie and Chris from the house to the car, and they won’t look at each other directly. They both keep looking when the other one isn’t, and they’re both so obviously sad that it’s making Marnie a little sad, too.

“That was weird, right?” Christopher says while Dad is out of the car at the gas station. “They’re getting weirder?”

“Definitely,” says Marnie. “They don’t even look at each other.”

“I think they fought,” Chris says, his voice a little lower. “Last time we were all together. I didn’t hear much, but – yeah. I think they fought.”

Marnie looks through the window at her dad’s pinched expression, which feels like it probably has more to do with Eddie than the gas tank. “I hope they get over it soon. They’re really bad at being upset with each other.”

“Yeah,” Chris says with a sigh. “They really are.”

The problem, Marnie thinks, is that being upset with each other is not the only thing that’s wrong with Dad and Eddie.

Aunt Maddie is still gone. Uncle Chim and the baby left right after. Eddie isn’t at work. And Marnie is old enough, now, to see that Dad is trying really hard to keep it together when he’s home, which she figures means that he’s probably doing a worse job of that somewhere else.

And Eddie – Eddie looks more tired every time she sees him. And that’s a lot, because he’s working a different schedule to Dad, now, and he picks her up from school on days when Dad is working because Davey’s sister had a baby and he’s away to visit her.

(That part is sort of like a circle: Eddie picks Marnie up from school because David is away, David is away because Eddie is available to take care of Marnie. Both only happen because of the other.)

So it’s not that being upset with each other is the problem, so much as that Dad and Eddie being upset with each other is probably because of everything else that’s going on. It’s like they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other. Chris agrees.

But it’s fine, it’s fine. They’ll figure it out. Marnie trusts that.

And then, one day, they are walking into the house with Taylor after dinner, and Dad gets a phone call. He lights up when he checks the caller ID, so it must be Christopher. He got a phone of his own for Christmas, and nobody else who makes Dad smile like that would be calling. Aunt Maddie hasn’t called him back for months, and Eddie calling usually makes him pinched and sad right now.

Marnie thinks all of this in the time it takes Dad to say, “Hey, Chris!” with a huge smile on his face.

She thinks all of this in time to watch that smile slide right off of his face. Even from across the room, she can hear her brother’s voice through the phone.

“Buck!” Chris says, panicked and loud. “Something’s wrong with Dad!”

Marnie puts her shoes back on.

Dad is talking to Chris, his voice low and urgent. Getting more information. Do we need to call 911, are you safe, can you tell what’s going on at all? When he turns to Marnie and realizes she’s already to turn around and leave the house again, he sighs, briefly relieved.

“Go grab Scales,” he says. “We’re spending the night.”

Marnie doesn’t need anything but Scales to spend the night at the Diazes’ house; she has clothes and pajamas and a toothbrush and extra hair stuff there, just like Chris has here.

“I can watch her, if you need to go,” Taylor offers. She looks concerned, and the offer sounds genuine, but she also seems a little uncomfortable to be saying it.

Dad startles, like he’d forgotten that Taylor is here. “No, thank you. I want to have eyes on both of them.”

“If you’re sure,” Taylor says, but she looks relieved.

“I’m sure,” says Dad. He presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Sorry to cut our evening short.”

“It’s fine,” says Taylor. “Go.”

Marnie runs to get Scales from her bedroom, and they go.

Christopher is in the hallway when they get there. He’s in his pajamas already, not using his crutches, and he’s standing near Eddie’s bedroom door with tears behind his glasses.  

“He locked the door,” he says, “and he won’t answer – I can’t hear him anymore, and – and – and –“

Dad swoops over, pulling Christopher against his chest in a tight, tight hug.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” says Christopher.

Dad takes a slow breath, squeezing Chris one more time. He presses a kiss into his hair. “Okay, you two go to your room.”

“But Dad –“

“I’ve got Dad, okay?” says Dad. “I’ve got him. You two go to your room. I’m not asking you to go to bed – play a game, read a book, just hang out, I don’t care. Just please go to your room, and I’ll come get you in a bit, okay?”

Christopher and Marnie look at each other for a moment before looking back at Dad. He looks scared, but like he’s trying to hide it, like when he picked them up right before the tsunami.

Marnie is scared, too.

“I’ll come get you in a bit,” Dad says again.

Marnie waits.

After a beat, Christopher sighs. “Okay.”

Marnie catches his arm, tucks herself against her brother’s side, and the two of them walk together into the bedroom. Dad seems to wait until the door clicks shut behind them before going back down the hall.

“Eddie?” Dad calls, audible through the walls because the house is small and he is loud and Marnie and Christopher are very, very quiet. “Eddie, can you hear me? I’m – I’m gonna come in, okay? I’m coming in.”

And then there’s a heavy thud and a sharp, creaking CRACK! before the sound of a door hitting a wall.

Quieter, almost inaudible, Marnie hears her dad say, “Eddie,” one more time, pained and soft. Marnie holds her breath until she hears the low, familiar tone of Eddie’s voice say something unintelligible in return.

Chris breathes, too.

The two of them settle on Christopher’s bed, still nestled close together, holding on.

“I don’t know what happened,” Christopher murmurs, “but I think it’s bad. I heard – I heard crashing and breaking and – and crying, I think.”

“Dad’s here,” Marnie says. Like this will fix it. She hopes that it will.

“Buck’s here,” Chris agrees. He rests his head against her shoulder, and she tips her head against the top of his, too.

They sit like that for a long time. Or – it feels like a long time. Marnie is not very good at estimating; Christopher calls her time-blind. It feels long.

Neither of them talk, but neither of them sleep. They are both tightly wound and awake.

Eventually, Dad comes back. He taps on the doorframe as he comes in.

“Oh,” he says softly, “oh, kids.”

And then he crosses the room in three long steps to perch on the edge of the bed, coaxing Marnie and Christopher toward him so he can tuck one of them under each arm.

“Eddie’s okay,” Dad assures them. “He – he’s having a very hard night, but he’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” says Christopher.

Dad presses a kiss into his hair. “I’m sure. And we’re going to stay here tonight so I can make sure he stays that way. Maybe tomorrow we’ll all go back to our house, we’ll see.”

“Okay,” says Christopher.

“His – uh, his room is a bit of a mess,” Dad says carefully. “So we’re going to be in the living room tonight – do you two think you’d be up for sharing tonight so one of us can borrow Marnie’s bed? I know you’re getting a little big for it.”

“We’ll be fine,” says Marnie.

“Good,” says Dad, a funny half-smile on his face. “Because we’re too big to share the couch.”

“And you’re too old to sleep on the floor,” Christopher says, a shade of his usual sense of humor starting to come back.

Dad laughs, and it sounds almost normal. “Right. Okay, I’m gonna grab that and go back out. Peanut, put your jammas on and brush your teeth.”

“Okay,” says Marnie. She wriggles out of his grip to stand up, which Dad takes as his cue to stand, too. He fishes the bin with Marnie’s air mattress out from under Christopher’s bed, lifting it easily to carry into the other room.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Dad says, quieter, from the doorway. “I know tonight was scary, but it’s gonna be okay.”

Christopher lets out a long, slow breath. “Thanks, Buck. For coming when I called.”

“Always, buddy,” Dad promises. “Marnie. Teeth.”

“I’m going,” says Marnie. “I love you, goodnight.”

“Love you, Buck,” Chris says, too.

Dad smiles. “Yeah, I love you guys, too. So does Eddie. Goodnight.”

“Night,” says Chris.

He and Marnie are awake for a long time after anyway, nestled side-by-side under Chris’s comforter, in the faint glow of the night light by the door.

--

Eddie wakes up on his couch, disoriented and exhausted even though the sun is streaming in through the front windows. Scales the pangolin is tucked under his arm.

Last night comes back in a rush. Calling – trying to call – his army buddies, tearing his room apart, Buck haloed by the soft light of Eddie’s overturned floor lamp. Buck carefully, oh-so-fucking-carefully, guiding Eddie out of his room, avoiding all the broken glass and sharp edges that have materialized around his bare feet.

Their conversation is sharp in Eddie’s memory, too.

Buck isn’t here now, though. It’s morning, late enough that the kids should be at school – Eddie sits up in a rush. Christopher.

He must’ve heard Eddie destroying his bedroom, must’ve called Buck. Eddie didn’t question Buck’s presence, last night. Eddie was in crisis and Buck was there, the natural order of things. How Buck knew to be there never crossed his mind.

“Hey, you’re up.”

Eddie startles again, because that was not Buck’s voice. “Bobby?”

Bobby crosses into the room, slow and casual, before perching at the edge of Marnie’s air mattress to face him, the coffee table shoved carelessly against the wall.

“Buck called me,” Bobby says.

Of course.

“He’s taking the kids to school,” he continues, because Eddie hadn’t actually spoken. “Didn’t want you to wake up alone in the house.”

Eddie nods, slow. “Thanks for coming.”

His voice is raw and scratchy. A remnant of the screaming and crying he’d done last night.

“Of course I came, Eddie,” Bobby says, like it’s true. Like showing up at Eddie’s house at what was probably much earlier than he’d meant to get up on his day off, even after everything Eddie had said to him the last time they saw each other in person, and sitting on a slightly squishy air mattress to talk to him is no trouble at all. “We’re family.”

And maybe to Bobby it is no trouble. Maybe it is that easy, to him.

Eddie doesn’t exactly know what to do with that. Before moving to LA, the list of people who would drop everything to show up for him was probably exactly one person long. Well – three, but only if Abuela or Pepa could swing the flight on short notice. His parents might have come, sure, but there would have been strings. They would only do it if they could get something out of it, and even then, realistically, only if it were convenient.

But here.

In Los Angeles, Eddie has a support system. He has people who love him and will show up even when he’s been an asshole on purpose because he’s blowing his life up and doesn’t know how to stop. He has people who will show up, no questions asked. No judgement given.

Eddie scrubs at his eyes, unwilling to cry anymore.

He and Bobby have one of those conversations it’s impossible not to have with him. Frank but gentle. Eddie doesn’t apologize yet for what he said the last time that they talked, too fragile to worry about anything other than today, and Bobby doesn’t hold it against him.

Buck comes home around the time that Bobby is dishing up breakfast, having coaxed Eddie into the kitchen while they talked.

“Is that French toast?” he says from the front door, over the familiar clatter of his keys settling in the dish alongside Eddie’s.

“It is,” Bobby replies, a fond smile on his lips. Buck loves Bobby’s French toast.

“Score!” says Buck. He walks into the kitchen, skating a hand across Eddie’s upper back as he passes to join Bobby at the stove. Then, like he’s been shocked, whips back around to face Eddie. “Oh! I called May earlier and got her to help me call you out of work today, by the way. I told her you’d come down with a bug the kids brought home, she says she hopes you feel better.”

Of course he did, because he thinks of everything. Because he’s so much better than Eddie deserves in a best friend, and he even took the time to protect Eddie’s pride while he was helping to sweep up the shattered pieces of his life.

“I’ll have to thank her later,” says Eddie. “S’pecially since you probably woke her up to do it.”

“I couldn’t figure out the Dispatch system!” Buck says, playfully defensive. “Did you want a no-call-no-show?”

“I could’ve gone in,” Eddie lies.

Buck doesn’t even bother to answer this verbally, shooting Eddie a look over his shoulder as he turns back toward Bobby and the stove that communicates everything.

Bobby huffs a soft laugh. “I’m glad you two are back on track.”

“Hmm?” Buck says around a mouthful of food.

“I know Eddie being away from the 118 has been hard on your relationship,” Bobby says diplomatically.

Eddie doesn’t want to know what that means for how Buck has been handling it; he knows enough about how he’s been behaving to take a guess. He hasn’t really had the bandwidth, within the bounds of his own slow-motion breakdown, to let himself worry as much as he’d like to about how Buck is doing.

“And this last year has been hard on both of you individually,” Bobby continues. “So it’s nice to see you looking a little more like yourselves together, after everything.”

Buck flushes a bright, violent pink. “Bobby –“

“I’ll leave you boys to your morning,” Bobby says. He pats each of them on the shoulder as he passes, moving toward the door. “Remember, you can call anytime. Take care.”

“Bobby,” Eddie says, twisting to look at him. “Thank you, really.”

“Any time, Eddie,” Bobby says again. “I mean it. Buck, let me know if you’re going to make dinner tomorrow after all.”

“’Course,” Buck says easily.

And then it’s just the two of them.

And for the first time in weeks – no, months – Eddie feels like he can breathe properly around Buck. All of the things he’d been holding back are out in the open, the precipice he’d been standing on already tumbled over. He hasn’t known what to do with the fact that he didn’t know how to behave around Buck anymore, unused to keeping things back from him.

Now he isn’t, and even the morning after the biggest breakdown of his life, he feels a bit more himself.

It continues to get easier, from there. Once the dam broke, and Eddie started to let himself tell Buck what was wrong, why he’s been drowning, it’s been easier. Not perfect, since he’s still working through his shit with Frank and working through their shit with Buck, but it’s better.

And Buck is better, too.

Part of the reason Eddie had been clammed up so tightly – not all, not even close to all, but part – is that Buck was already, obviously, struggling. He’d been stiff and brittle since Maddie left, not exactly fragile but also not nearly as prepared to flex to everything else as usual. Eddie knows he contributed to that, in the end, that trying to protect himself and Buck from all the shit he’d been holding back only served to make it all worse, for both of them. But Buck broke down the literal and metaphorical door between them, and now he looks like he’s sleeping better, too.

(A few days after Eddie’s meltdown, Maddie and Chim come home. Buck walks into the house that day with a spring in his step that Eddie realizes he hasn’t seen since at least Christmas. Maybe longer.)

All of them are back at the Buckley house for a little while, until Eddie and Buck have a chance to put Eddie’s room back together for real. Buck had swept and righted as much of the furniture as possible while Eddie was at his emergency therapy session the next day, but it’s still not quite right. And it’s easier for all of them, after a big scare like Eddie knows he gave Chris, to be close. Close is easier at the Buckleys’, where there’s a real bed for Christopher and for Eddie if he and Buck can let go of each other long enough.

Just when Eddie is starting to feel like he can breathe again, like maybe he could actually go back to the 118 without shaking apart, Dispatch catches fire.

Ironically, it seems to be a fault in the new fire suppression system install that sparks the fire. Unfortunately, this irony catches three doors down from a room full of paper records they’re midway through transferring to digital.

Eddie finds himself standing twenty feet from a rapidly growing flame, and can’t help but think, as he radios whoever can get here, that if he believed in signs from the universe, this would be one hell of a sign.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday!” Eddie says into his radio, a familiar kind of calm washing over him. “Metro Dispatch is on fire!”

The 118 responds, naturally.

They’re far from the only, but they are the first to arrive. Eddie is already outside, helping Sue with the evacuation, and can’t help searching for Buck’s face before anyone else’s.

Which means that he’s watching Buck’s face when Sue realizes that May is still inside. She’d finally blown up on Claudette this morning, and Sue had sent them both to timeout. Eddie had been focused on lower level evac, had trusted that someone on the dispatch floor would remember the loud argument from the floor this morning and go looking. Now May – and Claudette – are trapped in a part of the building that is increasingly unstable, with no way to know what’s going on until it’s probably too late to get out themselves.

He's watching Buck’s face. He can’t even tear his eyes away to look at Bobby’s, because he knows whatever Bobby’s expression is doing it’s this but more. Because Buck has this look of sharp, determined devastation; May is his sister in every way that matters, and he’ll be damned if he lets her die in a fucking fire, all of twenty years old.

Bobby tells Eddie to suit up, and Eddie doesn’t need telling twice. He knows where the extra turnouts are stored and he’s halfway into his pants when he finds half a second to introduce himself to Lucy.

(Lucy who Buck kissed.)

Then they’re off and running. Buck and Eddie to do some fire suppression on the fourth floor and then down to the basement to help the technician who’d been installing the new system, Lucy and Ravi to the fifth to help evac the dispatch floor, Bobby to the fifth to find his daughter.

Eddie feels alive in a way he hasn’t in months. He’s in his element, in a crisis with Buck at his shoulder. It’s like a piece of himself has slotted back into place.

He knows that he needed to step away from frontline firefighting for a while, or the breakdown that took him out a few weeks ago could’ve been deadly, but he knows down to his bones that he’s ready to step back into it now. He’s grinning over his shoulder to say as much to Buck when Lucy’s voice crackles over the radio.

The ceiling collapsed, and Bobby and May are trapped.

Eddie catches Buck by the arm as he plows up the stairs, pulling them both to a halt at the landing.

“Eddie,” Buck says, desperately pleading, “c’mon.”

“Hey,” Eddie replies softly. “Breathe. You gonna be able to handle this?”

“I have to,” says Buck.

“Okay,” says Eddie. And then he pulls Buck into the tightest hug he can manage for about three seconds before they separate and continue up the stairs.

They get both Bobby and May out alive, but May is wobbly mostly from adrenaline and Bobby is wobbly because he’s definitely concussed. Buck hovers between them, as the team goes to move, before hooking himself under Bobby’s arm to take most of his weight and trusting Eddie to help May. Eddie knows that’s what he’s thinking, because he sees the way Buck’s eyes flicker toward him three or four times before he commits to helping Bobby.

Most of the injuries, in the end, are minor. Some of the senior dispatchers have inhaled a bit more smoke than anyone would like, having stayed on the floor as long as possible to allow the temp floor to get set up in the garage, and there are a few more serious injuries like the technician who’d been thrown halfway across the basement and broken his leg, but all told it could’ve been a whole lot worse. No one is in serious danger, now that everyone has made it out of the building.

Which is why, when they arrive to the hospital to check in on Bobby, it’s such a shock to learn that Claudette died in the ambulance.

Less a shock, all told, that Hen and Chim take something suspicious happened and run with it. Their amateur detective work almost gets them killed, but only almost. Taylor breaks Buck’s trust, if not his heart exactly, and that’s understandably the end of that. 

Chim is even back at work in time for Eddie’s first day!

Not that Eddie really notices, as he comes into the firehouse and is drawn inescapably as ever into the orbit of Buck’s bright-as-the-sun smile.

--

Buck loves weddings.

Or: Buck, who has spent most of his life adrift and disconnected, loves the idea of weddings. Loves the idea of loving someone so much that you have to make it everyone’s business, that you have to share it with the rest of the people you love. Loves the idea of families getting together and having a huge party to celebrate a relationship, wrapping up a happy couple in love and support and joy.

He knows that not all weddings are like that. The two most important adults in his life have both had weddings fairly antithetical to that idea, in fact, with Maddie’s harshly formal, isolating wedding to Doug and Eddie’s rushed, forced wedding to Shannon. But it’s what weddings should be.

And it’s what Hen and Karen’s vow renewal absolutely is.

The night is winding down, now, just the family still hanging around in the warm light of Hen and Karen’s back yard. Buck is holding his niece, who’s been asleep for the better part of an hour, chatting comfortably with his sister. He’s spent the evening dancing and laughing with all of the people he loves the most, and he’s drunk just enough to be fuzzy and warm and content.

“Hey,” Eddie says from behind Buck, and Buck lights up that little bit more. “I hate to interrupt, but I think we need to start rolling out.”

Buck turns to look at him, and immediately sees why Eddie hadn’t put a hand on his shoulder like he normally would if he comes up behind Buck in a chair. Eddie has Marnie in his arms, knocked out asleep with her face burrowed into his shoulder.

“Oh, looks like it,” Buck replies. He can’t help the soft, fond tone his voice takes on, seeing Eddie so comfortable and content with Marnie in his arms.

“I’ll go get Peanut in the car, if you wanna convince Christopher to part from Denny and Harry,” says Eddie.

“You mean, you take the easy kid and I take the one who’s going to be trouble?” Buck teases.

Eddie grins, mischievous. “Never.”

“Go on, before I regret agreeing to hunt down the preteen,” says Buck. Eddie laughs, and Buck goes all fuzzy again.

“Don’t call him that,” says Eddie. “It makes us sound so old.”

“Ah, but it’s true,” says Buck. “Now go, or she’ll wake up. Then she’ll be trouble.”

Eddie turns to leave, the smile on his face softer and more personal, just for Buck and the kids.

Buck turns back toward Maddie, who’s been watching their exchange with her eyebrows steadily climbing her forehead.

“That was – domestic,” she says. “Did I miss more than you’ve told me?”

“Hmm?” says Buck. “Nothing’s changed?”

“Ah,” Maddie says, chuckling softly. Buck thinks he may have missed the joke. “So I’ve just had enough time away to have an outside view of things.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck says, and he means it. “So either explain it or take your baby back so I can hunt down Christopher.”

Maddie holds her hands out for Jee-Yun. “I just don’t remember you two being so – casual about coparenting.”

Buck shrugs. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Interesting,” says Maddie. She settles Jee against her chest, pressing her cheek to the top of her head for a moment. “Well, I won’t keep you. Go find your kid.”

“I – he’s – Maddie.”

“Buck,” Maddie echoes, clearly amused. “You’re the one who said nothing’s changed.”

Buck gets up, shaking his head. He pauses just long enough to kiss the top of Maddie’s head as he passes, even if she’s teasing him. He loves her and she’s glad that she’s here. He tells her as much and she shoos him away to go find Chris.

Christopher isn’t that difficult to coax away from his friends, all told, since he’s also starting to fade and it’s not even that much of a bribe to point out that the sooner they get home, the sooner it’ll be Pancake Sunday.

(Pancake Sunday is the only Buckley-Diaz tradition that survived what May is still calling Eddie and Buck’s “divorce era” – all of them around Buck’s dining room table, eating pancakes piled high with the most over-the-top toppings they can assemble, every Sunday Buck and Eddie are off, regardless of how much they’re talking to each other.)

Marnie is still asleep when they get to the car, buckled into her booster seat with practiced ease by Eddie, who’s even managed to get a neck pillow onto her so her head isn’t drooping uncomfortably onto her shoulder.

“Miracle worker,” Buck says softly to Eddie as he slides into the passenger’s seat. Buck has always had trouble getting the kids into the car without waking them up.

“One of us has to be good at it,” says Eddie. Buck grins. “Did you have a good time tonight?”

“I love weddings,” sighs Buck. “I love love, you know?”

“Yeah, bud,” says Eddie. “I know. It’s nice to have everybody together to celebrate something.”

“Specially after how shit this year has been,” Buck says.

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“M’glad we’re good again,” Buck says, softer. “I missed you.”

Eddie sighs quietly. “I missed you, too.”

Chapter Text

The Buckley-Diazes finally make it out to Disneyland for Marnie’s ninth birthday. It’s two years past when they originally planned, although the kids don’t know that, and they book a night in a hotel nearby so they can do two days back-to-back without having to wrestle with the traffic getting out of LA.

Buck is slightly devastated to learn that, since their originally planned date, Toontown has closed for refurbishment, and he cannot take the adorable photo he’d been envisioning of Marnie and Christopher in the stylized ladder truck in front of the Toontown fire station. He makes them pose for extra photos in front of the Main Street fire station to make up for it, and gets caught up in a delightful conversation with a cast member about the antique firetruck they have on display.

Christopher insists that Marnie has to wear a birthday button. It’s certainly the right move, because Marnie beams every time someone wishes her a happy birthday.

The kids are old enough to go on rides without an adult, as long as they both meet the height requirement, which turns out to be a really necessary detail, since some of the older rides are not built for a six-foot-tall firefighter. Buck insists on wedging himself into the Matterhorn the first time they ride, on principle, but admits defeat when they ask to go a second and third time.

(Eddie, who also doesn’t fit particularly comfortably in the Matterhorn’s tight, low seats, stands outside with him and only laughs a little bit at his pout at having to skip the ride.)

They stop a few times for photos with the actual photographers throughout the parks. All of the photographers are great at coaching them through a few different poses together, especially when Buck and Eddie step out and let them get pictures of just the kids. But also –

The thing is, Buck is very aware that he and Eddie look like a couple right now. Two guys on a family vacation with their kids is only going to read one way, right? But it still startled him the first time a photographer asked if they wanted a cute pose with Buck and Eddie kissing behind the kids. Eddie had been the one to turn it down, casual as anything.

“Alright, do we want any more?” Kristina From Sacramento asks this time, turning back toward Buck and Eddie. “Some just-Dads photos?”

“We’re good, thanks,” says Eddie.

“Thank you,” adds Buck.

“One of these times, maybe we should say yes,” Eddie says as they walk away, too low for the kids to hear.

“What, to a couple photo?” Buck replies, amused.

“Yeah, just sneak it in at the end of the post and see if anybody notices,” says Eddie.

Buck laughs. “I feel like they’ll notice.”

“Does anybody flip all the way through an entire photo post on Facebook?” Eddie says, amused.

“Do you want to risk that your parents will?” says Buck. “Like, the team, they’d probably get a kick out of it, but –“

“Shit, yeah,” says Eddie. “Maybe not, then.”

“We’ll get another really goofy one to sneak in instead,” says Buck. “It’s a good idea, definitely.”

It’s a great trip, all together. Marnie and Chris are having a ball, and remarkably good at taking turns and being patient through the rides the other kid chooses. Even when Marnie asks to ride the Little Mermaid ride three times in a row.

By the time they pile back into Buck’s car to drive home, they’re all exhausted but happy. It’s been a few longer days than the kids are used to being out and about, but Buck and Eddie don’t mind carrying them into the house after a long, fun weekend when neither of them rouses when they pull into the driveway.

“We should do stuff like this more often,” Eddie says. They’ve just fallen into bed side-by-side, both of them almost as worn out as the kids. He yawns, rolling into Buck’s side. “Family trips.”

“For sure,” says Buck. He doesn’t stop to interrogate the warm buzz in his chest that comes every time Eddie refers to them as a family, singular. “Just say when.”

“Maybe –“ Eddie yawns again, “after Christmas.”

“Yeah,” says Buck. “Night, Ed.”

“Night, Buck.”

It’s kind of a perfect summer.

Right before school starts back up, an old friend of Buck’s from his bartending days reaches out. Buck doesn’t think he’s spoken to Connor since he became a firefighter, not even once, but he’s always down to reconnect with people.

Connor and his wife, Kameron, are interesting to catch up with. Buck hears about their wedding, about Connor’s job, about Kameron’s recent interest in crochet. Connor and Kameron hear about firefighting and the family Disneyland trip and Marnie’s obsession with sailboats.

They wait until they’re almost done eating to spring their request on him: they need a sperm donor. They want it to be Buck.

“Can I think about it?” he says, stunned.

“Of course, man,” says Connor. “I know we kind of sprung this on you.”

Yeah. No shit.

Buck mulls it over on his own for a while, mulls it over with Hen over a bottle of tequila. Doesn’t mull it over with Eddie, because he knows what Eddie will think of it and he knows if he talks to Eddie he’ll let him talk him out of it. Buck doesn’t know, yet, if he wants to be talked out of it, is the thing.

It’s nice to be wanted, is the thing. To be the person someone thinks to go to when they need a hand, even if it’s a very weird hand. And it wouldn’t be that difficult a thing to do, to help them out. Not difficult in an obvious way.

Maybe difficult in a less obvious way.

He’s still thinking about it.

“Hey, did you ever make a decision about – that thing we talked about the other day?” Hen asks at work a few days later.

Eddie tilts his head, brow furrowing. “Something up?”

“Um,” Buck says.

“Buck? There’s a guy here to talk to you,” Chim says from downstairs.

It’s Connor, because of course it is. And Connor being here means that the whole thing comes spilling out, while his friends’ expressions tighten with increasing concern.

It’s Chim who says, “I mean, cornering you at work when he said he’d let you think about it is kind of a dick move.”

And Hen who adds, “Have you had a chance to think about it? Really?”

“I have,” says Buck. “I hadn’t – uh, decided. Still. But it’s been a couple of days, so I can understand them getting a little antsy. And, like, I know it would be a nice thing to do for them, but – I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s admirable how willing you are to help your friends,” Bobby says, the obvious but left hanging.

Eddie takes it over.

“That would fuck you up,” he says flatly.

“That’s what I said,” Hen says. “Not in those exact words, but that was the gist.”

“I could handle it,” Buck says, a little halfhearted.

Eddie shoots him a look, unimpressed. “You decided to keep Marnie even when it meant being a single parent with no support because you couldn’t stand the idea of giving her up. Being a dad is your favorite thing in the world. And you expect us to believe that you’d be totally cool with knowing there was another kid with your genes out there in the world not with you?”

And yeah, that’s about what Hen had said, too. But she’d been asking, genuinely. Do you think you could handle that?

Eddie isn’t asking. Eddie knows.

“I – yeah,” says Buck.

“It would fuck you up,” Eddie says again, softer this time.

“I know,” Buck admits. “But I don’t know how to say no.”

“We’ll help you sort it out,” says Bobby. He pats Buck on the shoulder. “We’ve got your back, kid.”

“I know,” Buck says again, and he does. He really does.

They workshop it. Most of Chim’s suggestions are dismissed, as are most of Eddie’s for different reasons, but Hen and Bobby help Buck come up with a really solid I’m flattered you asked but I don’t think I’m comfortable with that response.

He reaches out to Connor with it after their shift, not wanting to keep him and Kameron waiting, since they’ll need to find another solution. Connor shoots back a surprisingly well-honed guilt trip, which Buck thinks is kind of unnecessary. He reached out to someone he hadn’t talked to in years to ask for his sperm, he had to know there was a very real chance the answer would be no.

Buck holds firm. He feels bad telling Connor no, but it’s not like there’s no other way. He just hates to disappoint people, hates to withhold help. But he knows, knew even before his friends said it in so many words, that he would have a really hard time with it. And, again, he and Connor aren’t even close anymore. They haven’t spoken in like four years, and it was a hell of a way for Connor to walk back into his life.

He's sure they’ll go back to not talking, after this.

Buck doesn’t actually get a lot of time to worry about it, in the grand scheme of things. By the time he convinces Connor that he isn’t going to change his mind, school has started, and the kids have started the year with a bang.

Marnie’s teacher sends an email at the end of the third week, gently recommending that Buck get her tested for ADHD.

It gets missed in girls a lot, and she’s really only just getting to the age where it’s going to get in her way, so I’m not surprised if no one’s reached out to you about this before. That said, I really think that Marnie would benefit from some of the accommodations available to students with learning disabilities if it were on file as an official diagnosis.

Buck has been thinking about it for days. He’s never noticed anything that would point him toward getting her tested, does that make him a bad dad? Is he inattentive? Has he been failing his daughter?

Meanwhile, Christopher has been skipping the club that he begged to join at the start of the school year to hang out with his friends.

“Has he mentioned anything about this to you?” Eddie asks. He’s standing at the head of the dining table in the firehouse loft, hands resting on the back of a chair he keeps pulling out and pushing back in without sitting down.

Buck huffs a soft laugh. “No. I think at this point he’s figured out that telling me shit like that is as good as telling you.”

“Hm,” Eddie replies. “Yeah. Has Marnie said anything about it?”

“Also no,” says Buck. “But I’m sure she’s sworn to secrecy. You know how they are.”

“I do,” Eddie says. His expression softens a bit, fond. “I wish he’d just tell me that he wants to – to go to the park with his friends, or whatever.”

“He’s old enough now that he’s probably looking for some independence,” Hen points out without looking up from her salad. “Plus, there’s the cool factor of sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.”

“God, is this a glimpse of Christopher’s teenage rebellious phase?” Eddie groans, finally sitting down.

“Oh, don’t say that,” says Buck. “I’m not ready for him to be a rebellious teen.”

“He’s already starting to get embarrassed by us,” says Eddie.

“Noooo,” Buck says. Eddie chuckles.

Hen looks up, glancing between the two of them like she wants to say something, then shakes her head and returns her attention to her salad.

“Hey, did Marnie’s teacher ever get in touch with you?” Eddie says suddenly. “She tried to flag me down at pickup on Tuesday, but we were running so late, I didn’t get a chance to talk to her.”

“Oh,” says Buck. “Uh, yeah. She emailed me the other day.”

“What was up?” says Eddie.

“She, uh, she thinks I should get Peanut tested for ADHD,” Buck says.

“Oh,” Eddie replies. “I mean, yeah, probably. It would be good to get her some accommodations, right?”

“You think – you think she does?” says Buck, brow furrowing. “Have it? I’ve been thinking about it for days, and I’m like, am I a bad parent for never noticing, or –“

Eddie tilts his head, assessing. “What do you mean? She’s got, like, the exact same symptoms as you.”

“What?” says Buck.

“Oh, no, okay,” says Eddie. “I get it now. Alright, Buck, you are not a bad parent, okay? But you’re both pretty obviously ADHD, bud. I thought you knew.”

“I – you think?” Buck says.

Eddie shrugs. “I mean, I’ve met you. Anyway, yeah, it’s probably a good idea to get Peanut tested. All that stuff you’ve told me about how it was for you at school? It doesn’t have to be like that for her.”

“Oh,” Buck says, soft.

“It didn’t have to be like that for you, either,” says Eddie.

“Oh,” Buck breathes again.

--

Things are, overall, pretty good right now, as far as Eddie is concerned.

After the hiccup toward the start of the year with the robotics club and the ADHD testing, the kids are doing pretty well. Eddie and Chris came to an agreement about Chris getting some time to hang out independently with his friends without sneaking around behind Eddie’s back. Buck has been reckoning with Marnie’s – and his own – ADHD with new eyes, helping her find strategies that will get her through school and beyond that are more than just the cobbled-together way that Buck has been muddling through for his whole life.

Not for the first time, Eddie finds himself pissed off with Buck’s parents. He can’t imagine that Buck’s struggles with focus and motivation at Marnie’s age were any less obvious than hers, but rather than make any effort to help or support their son they just ignored it like they ignored everything else. And that’s probably best-case scenario; worst case is that they did notice and were annoyed by it. Eddie knows Maddie did her best by him, but at the end of the day she was also a child. Their parents had an obligation to pay attention to their kids and help them if they could, and they just – didn’t. Repeatedly.

Anyway, Buck is a better parent than the ones he had, so he’s thrown himself headfirst into researching ADHD and strategies for dealing with it, for his own sake almost as much as Marnie’s.

This is the first time in a while that Buck and Eddie have both been single, and because of that the first time in ages that they’ve had as much of their free time as they want to spend as a family. Not that Taylor or Ana were ever a priority over both of them spending time with the kids, but they were an expectation on Buck and Eddie’s time.

If you’re dating someone, you spend time with them.

And if you’re not dating anyone, that time becomes free to use for other things. Eddie and Buck just both tend to favor spending that time together, without anyone else to answer to. Even when the kids aren’t free – and the kids aren’t always free, since Christopher has a social life like nobody’s business and Marnie is well on her way to the same.

It's nice to have that time again.

Buck has been working on his lasagna for weeks, now, for example. Eddie has stopped trying to convince him that lasagna does not need this degree of attention and resigned himself to enjoying Buck’s variations. He’s trying to nail down Bobby’s exact recipe without asking him for it, for reasons Eddie thinks may be bet-related, and he’s getting pretty close. At this point, Eddie can’t actually tell the difference, but Buck keeps tweaking and insisting he’s getting closer.

Eddie has learned to just roll with these things.

He tries the lasagna, again. It’s good, again. Buck is a pretty good cook, these days, and Bobby’s lasagna has been an ongoing project, so it’s always satisfying, even if it doesn’t have whatever it is Buck is looking for yet. It’s a favorite of Chris and Marnie’s, except for that time he forgot to salt some key component, and it came out tasting super off, which they continue to tease him for.

Eddie didn’t even mind when the lasagna was weird, honestly.

The next few months slip by.

Eddie strikes up an odd almost-friendship with Felisa Valdez, after a series of calls involving her and some very, very bad luck. Chimney had been convinced she was cursed, or, more specifically, that the bracelet she’d gotten as a good-luck charm was cursed. Turned out the bracelet was just a fake, sold by a guy afraid of getting caught for the fraud. It has Eddie thinking about his abuela, and the lengths people will go to for some peace.

Eddie thinks, in passing, that he’s been going to some pretty significant lengths for the opposite of peace, recently. He’s trying to stop getting in his own way so much now, though. He’s stopped trying to talk himself into a girlfriend, for one, stopped trying to fight the urge to let the domesticity he’s fallen into with Buck and the kids settle into his bones.

Sometimes he wonders if he’s on the precipice of something else that he can’t see yet.

There was a night, amongst the Felisa situation, where Eddie, Buck, and the kids had dinner at Bobby and Athena’s house. Chris and Marnie were spending the night, and dinner as a family was Athena’s playful price for a childfree night. Never mind that Bobby had asked for the kids, since he had some outing he wanted to take them on that he thought they’d enjoy and he knew he’d enjoy. Buck never needs convincing to come for dinner at the Grant-Nash house, anyway, and Eddie’s not likely to complain either.

 Anyway, Bobby and Athena had been the ones to hear Eddie’s rant about charlatans trying to take advantage of people’s grief or fear or whatever it is that’s driving Felisa. Buck wasn’t in the room, somewhere down the hall helping the kids with something. Eddie doesn’t remember what – it didn’t matter, in the grand scheme, because there’s nothing Eddie doesn’t trust Buck to handle besides maybe Buck himself.

He'd come back into the room mid-rant, which Eddie felt more than saw. Eddie was sitting with his back to most of the house, and Buck had come up alongside him with quiet, familiar footsteps. He’d dropped a hand onto Eddie’s shoulder with a fond-sounding almost-laugh, and it made something warm and familiar curl in Eddie’s chest that he just – couldn’t investigate yet.

“You done, Ed?” Buck said.

Eddie sighed. “You know that I am.”

Buck had maybe heard this already.

“Then we should probably head out,” said Buck. “Not that I don’t love spending time with Bobby and Athena, but if we’re ever going to leave tonight I think now may be the moment.”

“You’re probably right,” said Eddie. “Thanks for having us.”

“Any time, boys,” Bobby said, an amused light in his eye. “You’re always welcome.”

And then Eddie and Buck had gone home, together, to hang out without their kids. They didn’t even go out or anything – they just watched a movie made for grownups and fell asleep in a familiar tangle in Eddie’s bed.

Eddie can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s not like it was even anything special, nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s sticking out in Eddie’s memory, and he can’t figure out why.

--

Maddie and Chimney have been looking for a house.

This means that Buck is, somewhat inescapably, also kind of looking for a house. It’s not an active thing, really, so much as that he’s keeping his eyes peeled, you know. And he’s also been watching Jee-Yun for them while they tour places. That’s a funny thing.

Because Jee-Yun is a little past eighteen months old, and Buck missed a lot of her infancy by virtue of her parents being halfway across the country. So, for Buck, Jee-Yun went from a newborn he largely wasn’t allowed to visit for her safety, to a young infant he saw only slightly more frequently, to a full-blown walking, talking toddler in a blink.

And does she ever talk.

Jee-Yun is an only child of two brilliant, talkative parents. It’s no wonder, really. But Marnie – surprising though people tend to find it – was a quiet toddler. Or, at least, not a chatty one.

And even if she hadn’t been, she is nine years old, now. Buck is out of practice at interpreting the half-gibberish language that even wordy, chatty toddlers speak.

She’s fast, too, running the full length of his house, but this, at least, Buck is better equipped for. Marnie was, and is, a runner.

(Buck thinks, from context clues more than from anything either of them has said in so many words, that Maddie and Chim are kind of exhausted. Jee-Yun has a toddler’s near-boundless well of energy, and Maddie and Chim are first-time parents. Maddie functionally raising Buck doesn’t count, not for this, because when he was two years old, she was eleven and had plenty of childhood energy herself. He knows, because he pays more attention than people usually give him credit for, that they’re both mostly going to Hen and Karen for advice on parenting and handling their newly-faster-than-them toddler, which he isn’t offended by, but he has noticed.)

“Uncle Buck,” Jee says, each syllable carefully articulated.

“Jee-Yun,” Buck replies.

“Can you read?”

Buck lets out a startled laugh. “Yeah, Jee-Jee. I can read. Do you want a story?”

“Story please,” Jee says, nodding firmly. She reaches up wordlessly, little hands doing a grabby motion to indicate that she wants him to pick her up.

Who is Buck to argue?

He scoops her up in one arm, which his kids have both gotten a little too big for, and she tucks her face against his shoulder once he’s carrying her.

Buck carries Jee-Yun to the living room, to the big squishy armchair that’s perfect for curling up with a kid and a book. She wriggles down just long enough to find a picture book from one of the low bookshelves, then crawls back into Buck’s lap to read.

After they finish the story, Jee-Yun is visibly starting to drop off. Her head is resting heavily against Buck’s side, little shoulders rising and falling with her slow, steady breathing.

“Hey, Jee,” Buck says, “you know how your mommy and daddy are looking for a new house?”

“Uh-huh,” Jee-Yun says, yawning.

“Are you excited for the new house?” he asks. He’s just curious what her perspective on the situation is.

“So e’cited,” Jee mumbles around another yawn. “M’gonna have a room.”

Buck lets out a soft laugh at that. “Yeah, baby girl, you’re gonna have a room. Bet that’ll be pretty cool.”

“So,” Jee says, “so cool.”

And then she’s asleep.

Buck chuckles again, soft, and settles in for however long this nap is going to last. It’s about that time, anyway, and if he’d been paying attention to the time when she asked for a story he would’ve parked her in Marnie’s room first, but now he’s locked-in as a pillow for the duration. He’s got enough space to dig his phone out, though, to keep himself entertained for a while.

Buck wakes up, sometime later, to Jee-Yun catapulting herself off of him. He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

“Uncle Eddie!”

Buck’s phone is somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t go looking for it just yet, distracted by the picture in front of him.

Eddie had offered to manage school pickup today, since he knew that Buck had Jee. The big kids are in the hallway, loudly managing their post-school routine, but Eddie has come into the living room. Jee-Yun is crawling up the front of him with very little help, little hands gripping his shirt tightly and little feet scrabbling for something to push off of around his knees.

Eddie eventually gives in, catching her under the arms and sweeping her up over his head. She laughs that perfect baby laugh of hers, which in turn wins a bright, easy smile from Eddie. He settles her on his hip.

“Uncle Buck looks pretty tired, Princess,” Eddie says, amused fondness coloring every word. “Did you wear him out?”

“We did running and books and cooking and a nap,” Jee-Yun reports.

“I see,” says Eddie. “Uncle Buck, you getting too old for running and books and cooking all in one day?”

“Only at two-year-old speed,” Buck says.

“Uncle Buck,” Jee says seriously, tipping over backward and forcing Eddie to catch her so she doesn’t just tumble to the floor. “I am not two.”

“How many are you, then, Princess?” says Buck.

“Um,” says Jee. “Almost!”

“Almost, I see,” says Buck.

“Buck, Dad, what’s for dinner?” Christopher calls from the hallway.

“Whichever kid gets to the kitchen first can pick something off of The List,” Buck calls back.

The List is relatively new. It’s a running list of meal options based on the current food in the house, in the interest of avoiding decision paralysis at the end of long days. The kids both love The List. And they will get competitive over who gets to pick from it.

(Despite this, Marnie is usually pretty considerate of the fact that she’s a faster mover than Christopher, willing to slow down for a more even competition. It sounds like tonight she is not being that considerate, though, if the crashing clatter of her taking off down the hall is any indicaton. She must have a strong opinion about dinner.)

“Hey, Pepa wants to know if Athena is working on Christmas Day,” Eddie says. He scoops Jee back upright, casual as anything.

“Uh, yeah, she is,” says Buck. “Why?”

“Well, obviously she was wondering where Marnie’s going to be on the day,” says Eddie, like it isn’t borderline world-shattering to remember how casually Pepa considers Buck and Marnie within the bounds of Eddie’s family, and by extension her own. “But I think she was also kind of asking about May? Since Michael and David and Harry are all in Florida, now, you know?”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Well, Peanut can go to theirs with Chris if that’s cool, but I don’t know what May is doing Christmas Day. I can ask her.”

Eddie waves him off. “First of all, of course it’s cool. I’m pretty sure Pepa and Paco would be offended if you didn’t. Second of all, I’m perfectly capable of texting May myself, I just wanted to know if you knew what she’s up to.”

“I do not,” says Buck.

“I’ll text her,” Eddie says again. “I’m assuming Maddie is still looking for a quiet day?”

Buck nods. “She says she’ll be good for the family dinner on the 26^th, though. She keeps saying she’d be happy to take Marnie, but –“

“Everyone will be a little happier if she and Chris are together,” Eddie finishes. “Plus then Maddie gets an easy first Christmas with Jee-Yun.”

“Exactly,” says Buck.

“Well that’s that, then,” says Eddie. “Jee-Jee, are you excited for Christmas?”

“So excited,” says Jee-Yun.

“Dads, Christopher took The List!” Marnie wails from the other room.

Eddie huffs a soft, breathy laugh. “Duty calls.”

It still takes Buck a moment to follow Eddie and Jee-Yun down the hall, though. There’s something about the image of Eddie carrying Buck’s niece that’s got his chest feeling all… twisty.

--

Eddie and Buck do Christmas Eve at Pepa’s house, since she’s taking the kids for Christmas Day. It’s a full-scale family meal – not the holiday meal, but a real family dinner nonetheless – and having the Buckleys present feels right in a way that Eddie is just finally starting to let himself look at.

Eddie thinks that the holidays they work are harder on him and Buck than they are on the kids, who get a three-day Christmas celebration out of it. May did end up with an invite to Pepa’s for the day, too, after she’d admitted to not having any plans before the 118 family dinner on the 26^th.  With her dad, stepdad, and brother out of state, and her mom, stepdad, and brother working, Eddie’s glad that she has somewhere to spend the holiday. He hadn’t even been the one to suggest it – Pepa had texted out of the blue, and Eddie had just been the messenger.

The line between Eddie’s extended family and Buck’s continues to blur, and Eddie just can’t bring himself to mind.

Bobby and Buck put together a pretty impressive spread for dinner on their Christmas shift, despite the usually non-stop nature of holiday shifts. They even get a mostly continuous hour or so to eat it, which is nice.

Short of the kids, Eddie still gets to spend the holiday with his favorite people. It’s nice, even if the religious aspect of Christmas isn’t that important to him anymore. He’s too strongly culturally Catholic not to want to spend the day with people he loves.

Anyway, Christmas Day, itself, is fine. They respond to a few small fires and a lot of argument and new toy-related injuries, but it is altogether not a shift to write home about.

In a lot of ways, the 26^th is Christmas, for them.

It’s the day they get to do the whole thing – presents and over-the-top family dinner and all. Everyone, kids and partners included, pile into Athena and Bobby’s house, which is full of music and chaos and food and gifts. It’s everything Eddie could ever want in a family holiday.

(His parents being absent included.)

Chimney is explaining the situation with the house he and Maddie ended up buying – the process had gone remarkably quickly, because the house had been dismissed as super haunted for, like, decades. So they’ve closed and cleaned up and started moving in, with some minor renovations scheduled in January. It is a nice house, once you get past the genuinely distressing vibes it had when it was abandoned.

Eddie is only sort of listening, is the thing. He knows the Buckley-Han house situation already, because Maddie has been keeping Buck in the loop about it and Buck tells Eddie pretty much everything. So he’s well informed about Chimney’s new house, although he’s happy to listen to Chim tell him about it himself, and he’s drifting just a bit.

Mostly because, across the room, Buck is deep in conversation with Marnie and Christopher and Denny while he assembles a toy for Jee. He’s sitting with his back to his sister’s knees where she’s on the couch, a bright, indulgent smile on his face.

As Eddie watches, Marnie gets up and rockets across the room toward him.

“Eddie!” she says, breathless. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!”

“Hold, please, Chim,” Eddie says, utterly unnecessarily, holding up a hand in his direction. “Yes, Peanut?”

“Daddy says,” Marnie says, “that Christopher and I can build a fort in the living room tonight! But only if you say yes, too.”

“Oh, only if I say yes, too?” Eddie says. He pretends to consider this, slow and drawn out. “Well, I don’t know, Marnie Maddie. What if I really need the living room for something?”

“Eddie,” Marnie groans.

“Oh!” says Eddie, grinning. “I actually just remembered that this morning, I discovered a blanket shortage. All the blankets in the house disappeared.”

“Dad!” Christopher calls, still cross-legged next to Buck. “C’mon!”

“Well, I guess you can build a fort,” Eddie says. “But –“

“Eddie.”

“Only if you let me and Dad in for hot chocolate before bedtime,” says Eddie.

Marnie lights up. “Really?”

“Really,” says Eddie. “Those are my terms, take them or leave them.”

“Done!” chirps Marnie.

“I gotta ask, man,” Chimney says, as the two of them watch Marnie skip back across the room toward Buck and the other kids. “Do you and Buck ever get tired of each other?”

“Huh?”

Chim waves after Marnie. “I mean, that implies pretty heavily that you two are spending yet another off-night in the same house. Don’t you ever want a break?”

“Do you ever want a break from Maddie?” Eddie says, mouth moving before he’s fully thought it through.

“Well, Maddie is my partner and the mother of my child,” Chim says slowly, like Eddie is being a little bit stupid.

“Buck and I have been raising the kids together since I joined the 118, Chim,” Eddie says, instead of Buck is my partner, too. They don’t mean it the same way.

They don’t.

They don’t.

“Hm,” says Chimney.

“He’s my best friend,” Eddie says.

“I get tired of Hen sometimes, Ed,” Chimney replies. “She’s one of my favorite people in the world, but if we spent the kind of time you and Buck do together, I think we’d kill each other.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie says. He doesn’t have an end to the sentence.

“Alright,” says Chimney. “Fine. Anyway, so, we’re redoing the kitchen, right –“

Eddie’s still thinking about it, though. He’s thinking about it as he and Buck pile their kids into the same car, as they help them construct a remarkably elaborate blanket fort in Eddie’s living room. He’s thinking about it over hot chocolate, over tooth brushing.

Over the nighttime routine that they have down to a science, moving in sync around each other.

“Night, Dad, night, Buck,” Chris says.

“Night Eddie, night Dad,” Marnie echoes.

“Love you,” they say in sleepy unison.

“Love you, too,” says Eddie, still thinking about it.

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, as they make their way to Eddie’s bedroom together to get ready for bed themselves. “I realized at the party that I, like, totally forgot one of your gifts this morning.”

“Buck, you really don’t –“

But Buck is already shoving a small, badly wrapped box into his hands. He waits, nodding for Eddie to open it.

It’s a watch. Not a super nice one, which Eddie wouldn’t have a need for, but sturdy and practical.

“Your old one’s been driving you nuts,” Buck says, like it’s nothing. Like anyone might’ve noticed that the band on Eddie’s usual watch has been slowly cracking apart, and he hates it but can’t stop fiddling with it. “But I know you, and you’d wait until it falls off your arm entirely before getting a new one, so – here. Watch. I made sure the time was correct and everything.”

“I – “ Eddie says. He sets the watch down, giving in for once to the impulse to pull Buck into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s just a watch, Eddie,” says Buck, but he squeezes Eddie back.

“It’s not,” says Eddie. “It’s – you pay so much attention. I don’t think I tell you enough how much I appreciate it.”

“I know you do,” says Buck.

Eddie holds on for a beat longer before finally letting Buck go. His eyes fall on the watch again.

It’s such a little thing.

It’s such a little thing. He has a watch that he hates, and his best friend noticed that he hates it and got him a new one for Christmas. It’s not a big deal.

Why does it feel like such a big deal?

They crawl into bed. Eddie’s shoulder brushes Buck’s.

They do this all the time. They do this all the time. Buck’s house has a guest room, a perfectly serviceable guest bed, and yet they do this all the time. They sleep over here, at Eddie’s, where they have to share. They sleep over at Buck’s, where they don’t have to and they share anyway. They do this all the time.

Why is Eddie so aware of his shoulder touching Buck’s?

Why is he so worked up about this fucking watch?

Chimney got into Eddie’s head, he thinks. Or maybe –

Eddie has been talking himself around something for a long time, he thinks.

Around the easy, natural way that he and Buck have built their separate situations into a singular family. Around the warm buzz in his chest when he sees Buck with the kids. Around the way that no one – not even Shannon – has settled so fully, so comfortably, into Eddie’s life. Around the way that Eddie doesn’t really want anyone else to try.

It’s been easy to look away from for a long time, even as Eddie tied their lives and their family together as tightly as he could without literally marrying Buck. Even as my kid became our kids in his head, even as he let Buck into every corner of his mind even – no, especially – when it’s hard. When it hurts. And Buck has done the same.

It’s been easy to look away from the way Pepa treats them like a unit. Maddie treats them like a unit. Bobby and Athena treat them like a unit.

It was easy to look away from, but it’s been getting harder and harder.

He can’t look away any longer.

Do you and Buck ever get tired of each other?

No, thinks Eddie, with his shoulder touching Buck’s in a bed they’ve chosen to share.

Never, thinks Eddie, warm and content with his kids – the kids he’s raising with Buck – down the hall.

How could they, thinks Eddie, when he’s obviously, devastatingly, comfortably in love with his best friend?

Chapter Text

Phillip and Margaret Buckley are coming to town.

Buck is not, precisely, thrilled about this, but at least this time he has more than twenty-four hour’s notice.

(It’s something like a week and a half.)

“There’s one other thing,” Maddie says, oddly hesitant.

“Marnie is not coming to dinner,” Buck says immediately.

“What? No, of course not,” says Maddie. “I shut that down immediately. But Mom and Dad – they – I’m not entirely sure why, but they seem to think you’re dating Eddie.”

“Oh,” says Buck. “Actually – no, I think I get that.”

Maddie’s eyebrows climb to slightly unnecessary heights. It’s not that surprising an assumption! “Oh, really?”

“I mean, people assume me and Eddie are together all the time,” Buck says. Maddie blinks a few times, hard. “But I – when they were here. In ’21, I mean. I told them about the tsunami – said I was out with my kid and my partner’s. Most people, you know, in a situation like that – they don’t assume I’m talking about my work partner. Or, at least, they’ll tend to assume my work partner is something more to me than just that, which – I mean.”

“What?” Maddie prompts.

“It’s Eddie,” says Buck. “He is.”

“Right,” says Maddie. “Right. Okay. So you think you essentially told them that Eddie is your partner?”

“I did,” Buck says, shrugging. “Not my fault if they took that in a way I didn’t mean.”

“Right,” Maddie says again.

“So why do you mention it?” says Buck.

“Well,” Maddie says, drawn out and slow, “what Mom said, specifically, was if Evan is still seeing that man, he should bring him along to dinner. And then I asked for clarification, and they remembered Eddie’s name.”

“Oh,” says Buck.

“Do you want me to explain the misunderstanding, or –“

“Would you be cool with me bringing Eddie?” Buck asks.

Maddie laughs. “Has the answer to that ever been no?”

“I don’t know, the rules might be different with Mom and Dad here,” says Buck.

“If you’re comfortable with them thinking you’re together, romantically, then I’m fine with him being there,” Maddie replies. “I mean, I guess you could try to explain your – complicated platonic life partner situation, but I don’t know how well that would go over. The most important thing is that if you would be more comfortable with Eddie there, then Eddie is more than welcome to come.”

“Then I’ll bring him,” Buck says, firm.

He doesn’t even need to wonder whether Eddie would be willing to attend a probably awkward Buckley family dinner, as Buck’s implicitly-romantic partner. He doesn’t need to wonder, because he knows, with unshakable certainty, that if he were given a ready-made excuse to bring Eddie to this dinner with him and he didn’t do it, he’d have hell to pay.

“Is there – there isn’t anything going on that you haven’t told me?” Maddie asks.

“Huh?” says Buck. “No? I tell you everything.”

“Just checking.”

Buck asks Eddie about it at work. Just because it’s the next convenient moment – they spend most of their off time together, but Buck had been hanging out with Maddie yesterday and Chris had a doctor’s appointment, and they have to sleep in separate houses some of the time.

Not because Buck feels strongly attached to the idea of keeping their lives not entirely entwined, so much as because they’re still paying for two houses, and they might as well live in them.

“Hey, I need kind of a weird favor,” Buck says.

“Historically, if it’s not weird, you don’t qualify it as a favor,” Eddie replies, amused.

“I – yeah, actually, that’s probably true,” says Buck.

“Favor?” Eddie prompts, when Buck doesn’t immediately continue.

“Favor,” echoes Buck. “I’m – my parents. Are coming to LA.”

Eddie pulls a face, reflexive. “Why?”

Buck chuckles, soft. “I, uh, I don’t actually know. They want to see Maddie’s new house, I guess? Or – or Jee-Yun? It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, asking me to take Marnie for a night isn’t exactly weird, bud,” says Eddie.

“Right,” Buck says, “that’s why it’s, uh, not what I was going to ask you for.”

“What’s up?”

“My parents think that you and I are together,” Buck says.

“Oh,” Eddie says, neutral.

“I want to let them keep thinking that,” Buck continues, “because it gets you an invitation to dinner.”

“I thought you were going to ask me for something difficult,” Eddie says, after a beat. “I was already composing an argument that you should make an excuse for me to come.”

Buck lets out a soft sigh. He’s not quite relieved, exactly, because he didn’t doubt that Eddie would agree to come, but it’s still nice to have a reminder that someone cares about him as much as Eddie does. That he hasn’t misread or misremembered what their relationship is.

“Thank you,” Buck says, quiet.

“Hey,” says Eddie, “don’t. I’m always gonna have your back, okay? You don’t have to ask and you definitely don’t have to thank me for it.”

“Gonna thank you anyway,” says Buck. “Because not everybody would do something like this for their best friend.”

“Sucks to be them,” says Eddie, grinning.

Buck grins back. “Definitely.”

Buck also makes a point of talking to Bobby while they’re on shift. This is more on purpose – if he’d showed up at the house, there would’ve been a whole conversation about the situation. At work, Buck can drop his request on Bobby immediately before running for the shower after a call and delay the inevitable heart-to-heart by almost thirty minutes, and save himself from having to face both Bobby and Athena about it at the same time.

“Hey, would you and ‘Thena be up for taking Marnie and Chris while Eddie and I go to dinner with my parents next week?”

“Buck –“

But he’s already in the showers. He knows the answer will be yes unless they have an actual conflict, and Buck hadn’t given a specific date yet.

Bobby does catch him after his shower, which Buck expected. He’s in the kitchen when Buck gets up to the loft, and he gives Buck this look, like get over here right now, kid. Not angry, but exasperated.

(It’s a distinctly parental expression, which Buck knows only from being on the parental side of it a fair few times himself. It’s not like Phillip and Margaret ever paid enough attention to him to be gently exasperated with him. There’s a warmth behind Buck’s sternum at having it turned on him, despite everything.)

Eddie is at the table, pink-cheeked but smiling, talking to Hen about something Buck can't quite make out.

“Your parents?” Bobby prompts.

Buck groans. “Look, I don’t want to hear about how I shouldn’t go because they’re bad for my mental health, okay? If I wanted a lecture about it I’d have come over for dinner.”

“I don’t need to tell you any of that,” says Bobby. “First of all, I know that you know. Second of all, you’re a grown adult, and I’ve learned that if you’re determined to make a stupid decision, there’s nothing I can do to stop you. You’re bringing Eddie?”

“Yes,” says Buck.

“Good,” Bobby replies. “I know Maddie and Chimney will be there, but it’ll be good for you to have Eddie with you.”

“I know,” says Buck.

“We don’t have anything going on next week,” says Bobby. “So of course we’ll watch the kids, but –“

“But?” echoes Buck.

“If anything happens,” Bobby says. He pauses. Raises his voice. “Eddie, if anything happens at this dinner, you two come straight over.”

“Done,” Eddie calls back.

“It might not be bad,” Buck says, but he doesn’t really believe it. His parents, last time, were somehow worse than he expected, and his expectations were very, very low. He can’t imagine that it’ll be much better this time, to be honest, but he doesn’t want to leave Maddie to deal with it on her own.

She asked him to be there, so he’ll go. He doesn’t really understand why she’s so hung up on having them in Jee’s life as grandparents, but that’s her business. He’s just along for the ride. With Eddie, this time, so it’ll be better. Even if his parents are exactly as bad as always, it’ll be better.

Eddie has made no secret of his dislike of their parents, after all.

Buck feels better, the whole week leading up, knowing that Eddie will be with him for the inevitable shitshow. He finds himself wishing, idly, that Eddie could’ve been there the last time his parents came to town.

He doesn’t think it would have gone much better, but it probably would’ve felt better. Eddie’s always got his back, and doesn’t have the baggage that made that hard for Maddie and Chim the last time. Maddie has her own shit with their parents, especially after she’d told him about Daniel, even if she does want a relationship with them for Jee. Chimney is Buck’s friend, and they love each other like family, but at the end of the day his priority was always, always going to be Maddie. She’s his partner.

But if Eddie were there.

(And Eddie will be there, this time.)

Maddie is Chimney’s partner, so she’s his priority.

Buck is Eddie’s, and he trusts that with his fucking life.

He does also eventually agree to dinner at Bobby and Athena’s, so they can fuss and Athena can make threats against his parents and Buck can be reminded that he is, in fact, loved by people who think of him as a son. Even if those people aren’t the ones who raised him.

The day of dinner with his parents, he and Eddie drop the kids at their place, and Athena catches Buck by the arm. She fixes him with a familiar, no-nonsense look, her grip on his forearm tight.

“You call us if you need us, Buck,” Athena says firmly.

“I will, I promise,” Buck assures her. He leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “Eddie’s got my back. It’ll be okay.”

“Buck,” Athena says again, softer but no less certain. “The last time your parents came to town, we watched you slip from unhappy to suicidal in a day. I need to know that you’ll talk to us, this time.”

“’Thena, I wasn’t –“

“Do not argue with me,” says Athena. “I have known you for a long time now, kid. You can’t fool me.”

“It won’t be that bad this time,” Buck says. “It can’t be, okay? Eddie is going to be there, and – and I think if they were hiding anything else as big as Daniel, Maddie would’ve told me, after all that.” He pauses. “And if it were that bad, somehow, I – I’d come to you guys. I promise.”

“You’d better,” says Athena. She squeezes his arm once more before letting go.

“Love you, Athena,” Buck says, quiet.

“Love you, too, kid,” Athena replies.

Bobby doesn’t catch him for a similar conversation. Just pulls him into a tight hug before he lets Buck and Eddie leave, steps back with one hand still cradling the back of Buck’s head the same way Buck has done to Marnie and Christopher a hundred times, looking for signs of hurt.

It’s not a gesture Buck can remember ever seeing from Phillip or Margaret. It’s too gentle, too familiar.

Buck’s heart aches.

At least he’s got this now, though. People who love him, even when it’s hard.

“We’ve got to get going,” Eddie says softly, checking his watch.

“Right,” says Buck. To Bobby, he says, “Thanks, again.”

“Any time,” Bobby says. “You know that.”

“I do,” Buck promises.

And then he and Eddie head for the car, both of them hyperaware of the fact that they’d much rather stay here.

“I’ve got your back,” Eddie says, not for the first time, as they pull up to Maddie’s house.

“I know you do,” Buck says, hoping that this is enough.

--

Dinner with Buck’s parents is not an immediate trainwreck.

Chimney answers the door with a grin, and it doesn’t even seem forced. Buck had made the executive decision for them to arrive after his parents, having done all of his pre-visit briefing with Maddie yesterday. Everyone is trying to do preemptive damage control – Buck, by coming later to limit time spent, Chim, by loudly and brightly setting the tone for how to greet Buck, Maddie, by not immediately correcting their parents’ assumption about Eddie’s place in Buck’s life. Eddie, by being here at all.

“Evan,” Phillip greets, his smile looking largely genuine. “Glad to see you’re well.”

“Hi, Dad,” says Buck. “Hey, Mom.”

“Evan,” Margaret says.

Neither of them actually said hello, Eddie can’t help but notice. He’s a little on edge, though, so maybe he’s just reading too much into it. Then again, he’s here as Buck’s backup. He’s allowed to be a little suspicious of their behavior. Neither of them make any move to hug Buck in greeting, either, although Phillip shakes his hand.

“You remember Eddie, right?” Buck says, gesturing toward him.

“Hello,” Eddie says. He steps up next to Buck, left hand sliding easily around his waist like it’s something they do all the time, holding his right hand out for Buck’s parents to shake.

“Buck’s… partner, yes?” says Margaret.

“That’s me,” Eddie says, squeezing Buck a little tighter for a moment.

“In pretty much everything,” Buck adds, and it’s not even a lie.

These are the facts of tonight:

1. Buck’s parents think that Eddie is his partner, in the romantic sense. Letting them continue to think that means that Eddie can be here, watching Buck’s back, so it was easy, easy, easy to agree.
2. Eddie is in love with Buck. Knowing this has changed nothing about their relationship, because:
3. Eddie and Buck are already, functionally, life partners. Buck is not in love with Eddie – that he’s aware of – but they work together and raise the world’s best kids together and sleep in the same bed on a regular basis. Nothing that would be appropriate to do or say tonight in front of these strangers who nominally raised Buck would give away that that partnership isn’t romantic.

The way that Buck melts into Eddie’s side is no act.

“Eddie,” Phillip says. “I’ve forgotten what that’s short for.”

“That would be because I don’t answer to it,” Eddie says easily. “I’m certain I never told you.”

“Oh,” says Margaret.

“It was a busy day, when we met last,” says Eddie. “Buck at the hospital, and all. It’s all good, I’m not offended you don’t remember.”

“Oh,” says Phillip.

Buck, very subtly, pinches Eddie’s arm.

Fine, fine. He’s not here to be hostile.

Hostile, in fact, arrives a few minutes later with Albert. He’d brought his parents – Chim’s father and stepmother – along with him, for reasons which, to Eddie, strike a little close to the Buckley siblings’ home.

Albert wants to have a larger, more connected family. Their father has been working harder with him, lately, and has at least in passing indicated an interest in the same with Chimney. In meeting and getting to know his granddaughter.

Because of this, dinner is both better and worse than Eddie had expected. Better, because the Buckleys, and Phillip in particular, seem to have taken Chim’s father being a dick as an opportunity to prove they’re capable of behaving like human beings. (Or, at least, proving they’re capable of keeping their family drama locked down tight for behind closed doors.) Worse, because Chim’s father is, in fact, a dick, and Chimney is in a pretty bad mood about it.

Eddie is already calculating how long they have to be here after dinner before they can make an escape – not even because the Buckleys are making Buck feel like shit, just because it’s awkward and Maddie, Chimney, and Albert would all probably be grateful for a few less eyes on the situation.

“How are the kids?” Albert asks, the three of them pretending that they are all necessary to assemble the dessert plates.

“Oh, they’re great,” Buck says, brightening immediately. “Chris has been really into robotics, recently, especially after we went to Disneyland last July and saw all the animatronics. And Marnie is still on boats; she’s been begging to go to a sailing camp this summer.”

He’s digging into his pocket for his phone, presumably to pull up a recent picture, when Margaret joins them.

Eddie sees, immediately, the way that Buck freezes up for a moment.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about your children,” Margaret says. “So I thought I’d come over, while you’re talking about them.”

Buck’s phone slips back into his pocket.

“They’re both doing really well at school,” Eddie offers. “Marnie’s in fourth grade, now, and Christopher is in fifth.”

Eddie remembers, sharply, how little information Buck had given his parents about the kids when they were here two years ago. He hadn’t even referred to them by name, just called them my daughter and my partner’s son.

But Albert knows them, so Buck was using their names.

It seems like a photo is where he’s drawing the line, now, at least for the moment.

“Marnie and Christopher,” Margaret repeats, mostly to herself.

Eddie slides over to Buck, arm open to let him decide if he wants to tuck himself against Eddie’s side again. Sure enough, he does, pressing against him as tightly as possible.

“They’re really good kids,” Albert says. He seems to remember that Margaret didn’t know about Marnie, the last time she was here. “Like, super smart, both of them.”

“Smarter than us, sometimes,” Eddie agrees. He squeezes Buck’s side, encouraging him to say something. If he doesn’t want to, Eddie will carry this, but he can see something brewing.

“You must be very proud,” says Margaret.

“Every day,” says Eddie. “And Buck is such a great coparent, you know? I’m so –“

“Marnie was diagnosed with ADHD earlier this year,” Buck blurts.

Margaret’s nose wrinkles, just a fraction. Just for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “that must be so difficult to manage.”

“It isn’t,” says Buck. “It’s – it’s so much easier, actually, knowing about it. I can help her better.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy,” says Margaret, in a tone she probably thinks is diplomatic.

“No, see, because the thing is,” says Buck, strain evident in his voice, leaning heavier into Eddie, “I got tested, too. And I’ve spent the last few months thinking about it, because, like, it’s not like Marnie’s symptoms and struggles aren’t – aren’t obvious. And she is – she’s so much like me, in all the ways that you and Dad always seemed to –“

Hate.

Buck chokes on it, but it rings clear anyway.

“And I’ve been wondering,” Buck continues, “how I made it through my childhood without anybody noticing.”

Margaret blinks at him. She seems startled.

“Sorry,” Buck says, more to Albert and Eddie than to his mother. “Sorry, I – I sort of killed the vibe.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie replies, firm.

“Evan,” Margaret says, seeming to find her voice again, “I don’t know if this is really an appropriate time.”

“You wanted to know about Marnie,” says Buck. “This is our life.”

Eddie squeezes his hip.  

“She – she is so smart, you know?” says Buck. “But it’s not always organized, not always easy. She’s got more energy than even I know what to do with, sometimes. She’s scattered and distractable and loses things faster than anyone can keep up with. And I love her. Not despite it, but including it. Because of it. She’s my kid and I love her even when she’s messy.”

Margaret doesn’t answer.

Chimney’s father, instead, chooses this moment to make a cutting remark about Phillip and Margaret having grandchildren who couldn’t be bothered to come to dinner, and Phillip makes a sharp comment back about respecting Buck’s boundaries that seems to catch even him off guard.

Eddie and Buck make their excuses to leave not long after. Maddie’s eyes are glazed over with unshed tears, but she nods firmly when Buck tells her it’s time for them to go. Maddie is a smart, reasonable woman, and no matter how much she wants a normal-feeling relationship with her parents, she knows when to cut her losses.

And at the end of the day, she will always love Buck more than she wants to feel normal.

Eddie leads Buck out of the house, but stops him before he can get into the car.

“Hey,” he says, soft, eyes searching Buck’s face. “I know that must’ve been hard, but I’m proud of you for doing it.”

“Thanks,” Buck breathes.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” Eddie says. “Showing up when Maddie invites them. You can just – move on.”

“They’re my parents,” Buck says, a quiet kind of desperation coloring his tone.

“They’re her parents,” Eddie offers. “You’ve told me yourself that Maddie is the one who loved you and took care of you growing up. Bobby and Athena look out for you, and are invested in your wellbeing, love you like their own. You have people who actually love you, Buck, and you don’t have to keep waiting for Phillip and Margaret to figure out how to do it.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” says Buck.

“I know,” says Eddie. “I know.”

He tugs Buck into a hug. Eddie feels Buck tuck his face into his neck, feels the tell-tale dampness that gives away the tears in Buck’s eyes, even if Eddie couldn’t see them before.

He holds on until he feels Buck’s grip start to loosen, and then they finally climb into the car. When they get back to Bobby and Athena’s, Eddie makes a point of going to collect the kids so that Buck can debrief for a bit with his parents without any eyes on him.

Later, in the dark of his bedroom, Buck will whisper to Eddie that he thinks he’s going to tell Maddie that he’s not up for more dinners with their parents. That this one hadn’t even been a disaster, but it still left him feeling hollow and raw. He’ll tell her after their next shift, he says. Eddie thinks it’s a great idea.

Their next shift, though. It’s strange.

There’s a lightning storm over Los Angeles – no rain, just lightning. And they keep getting called out to lightning strikes, odd ones.

Even knowing this, Eddie isn’t ready.

It’s late. They’re at a fire, in a high rise, and the rain has finally come. It’s coming down in sheets, putting Eddie in mind of the night he almost drowned underground a few years back, but it’s not helping the fire much.

Bobby calls for someone to go up the ladder. Later, Eddie will not remember exactly why.

Chimney moves for it, but Buck cuts him off. It’s his turn, he insists.

Eddie helps him harness up, checking his straps and buckles, clipping him into his safety line. He’s on the ladder controls, always, always watching Buck’s back.

They get a fraction of a second’s warning.

Eddie thinks – will be told later, by Hen and by Bobby and by Chimney, for certain – that he and Buck are the only ones who feel it. A shift in the air, a buzz in his ears.

Buck, at the top of the ladder, looks up.

There’s a bright, almost blinding, flash of light. A sound that Eddie feels in his skin. Then a sharp, hot burn through his arms and he’s slamming to the ground, all the wind knocked out of him. It takes a second for him to sit up again, another fraction to get his bearings.

Eddie’s ears are ringing, his hands and arms are buzzing, and he’s still trying to catch his breath properly.

But he’s upright, so he sees it now:

Buck is dangling from the end of the ladder by his safety line. He isn’t moving, isn’t even obviously breathing, and his arms, legs, and head hang limply.

Lifelessly.

Eddie, ears still ringing, hands still buzzing, breath still shallow, hauls himself to his feet and climbs back onto the truck.

--

When Christopher wakes up, he can already tell something is very, very wrong.

He can’t put his finger on exactly why – the house is mostly quiet, but it’s just him and Carla here right now. It should be mostly quiet. He just has a bad, bad feeling.

Carla is in his doorway. She’s what woke him up, tapping lightly on the door as she let herself in. Chris isn’t a super heavy sleeper.

“Hey, we’ve got to roll out a little early today,” she says. Something sounds wrong in her voice. “We’re picking up Mo.”

Mo is Carla’s nickname for Marnie. She’s the only one who uses it, which Marnie loves. She likes having a special thing with all the people in her life, at least the ones who matter. Marnie’s special thing with Christopher is that they almost died together when they were practically babies, and now they’re siblings. There are lots of special ties between them, actually, but those are what they all circle back to.

They survived a tsunami, and they’re siblings.

“Is everything okay?” Chris asks.

Carla’s smile falters a bit. “I just got off of the phone with your dad. I don’t know what, but I think something happened last night. He said he’d meet us at the Buckleys’.”

“Carla,” Chris says, suddenly very awake.

“I don’t know, baby,” Carla says again. “But I think we’d better get going.”

Christopher gets himself dressed in record time, throws everything he thinks he might possibly need for school into his backpack. He doesn’t care if he’s missing anything, he thinks. He’s got a bad, bad feeling, and he knows Carla does, too.

Marnie is at the dining table when they get to the Buckleys’ house. Chris joins her, because there’s a bowl of cereal waiting for him at his usual spot and the grownups have stepped into the hall to talk in low voices they probably think that Christopher and Marnie can’t hear.

And in their defense, Chris would say he’s not catching most of it.

Just bits and pieces. It’s enough.

“- sounded upset –“

“- something to do with the storm?”

“- should be here soon.”

Chris doesn’t like that one bit.

Marnie is eating her cereal, but she’s quiet. She’s listening, too.

That part is – it’s weird. It’s upsetting in its own way; obviously the not knowing is scary, but the thing about Chris’s little sister is that she – affectionately – pretty much never shuts up. She and Buck are both big talkers, narrating what they’re doing when they don’t have anything else to say, avoidant of silence. Chris has to assume that Marnie picked it up from Buck young, but he doesn’t know why Buck does it.

Aunt Maddie doesn’t.

Marnie is staring down at her bowl, chewing on her lower lip.

“One of them has to be hurt,” she says eventually, quiet, quiet, quiet. “I think it’s Dad.”

“I think so, too,” says Christopher. “Carla said my dad was meeting us here.”

“Oh,” Marnie breathes.

Dad chooses this moment to appear, the front door crashing open with a lot less care than usual. When he makes it to the dining room, Chris’s heart sinks.

Dad looks terrible.

His hair is wet, but not shower-wet – wet like he’d been out in the storm for a while and hadn’t bothered to dry off. He looks tired in a way that is unaccountable to one single night of work, weariness weighing his shoulders down. His hands are bandaged, the wrap disappearing into the sleeves of a hoodie that Chis knows is Buck’s.

(Buck and Dad are not that far apart in size, and yet Dad looks like he’s swimming in this hoodie just as surely as Marnie or Chris would be.)

He stops in the doorway. His eyes are red and puffy, like he’s been crying, and recently.

He opens his mouth – closes it again.

Oh, no.

“Dad?” Christopher says.

“Kids,” Dad starts, and his voice is ragged and raw.

“No,” blurts Marnie. “No, no, no –“

Dad startles. He seems to come back to himself a bit, his posture softening as he finally crosses the room to kneel between their chairs.

“Oh, oh, baby, no,” Dad murmurs, hooking an arm around Marnie to pull her close. “He’s alive.”

“But?” Chris prompts, because he knows there’s a but. There is no way that Dad came in looking like that and everything is fine and over.

Dad sighs. He presses a kiss to Marnie’s forehead, then turns to look at Christopher. There are tears in his eyes again.

“But it was close,” he says, very quiet. “But it’s still close. Buck was – he was struck by lightning, last night. He’s in a coma.”

Marnie lets out a sharp, gasping sob. She sort of melts off of her chair into Dad, who collects her in his arms and settles back on to the floor, cradling her like she’s much smaller than she is.

Christopher feels sort of numb.

His ears are ringing a little bit, and his breathing is a little fast, but he’s not –

This can’t be happening. Not again.

Not again.

At least – at least when Mom died, she was already gone when Dad told him.

At least when Dad got shot, he was already out of surgery when Buck told them.

Right now, there’s so much still up in the air, and Chris isn’t young enough to be naïve about the situation. Dad looks devastated, and if Buck is in a coma that’s no guarantee he’ll wake up. No guarantee that he’d be okay, even if he does.

“Eddie,” Carla says. Christopher had almost forgotten that she and Davey were still here. “Have you called the kids out of school yet?”

“I –“ says Dad, looking a little lost. “No, I’m – I hadn’t gotten that far.”

“It’s probably a good idea, at least for today,” says David. “Carla doesn’t have anywhere to be until ten, and I’m free all day, so we can hang out if you need to sleep, but –“

“Yeah,” says Dad. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Hey, Peanut, can you get up? So I can call school? And then if you want, you and Chris can crash with me in Dad’s room.”

“Okay,” says Marnie. She slips out of his arms, swaying toward Chris’s chair once she’s standing. Chris loops his arm around her waist, steadying.

Dad steps out of the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He looks a little bit lost.

This is bad.

This is really, really, really bad.

Struck by lightning, Dad said. In a coma.

Christopher can’t help but wonder whether there was a moment – even a brief one – where Buck was actually dead. It was close, Dad said, with a look in his eye more haunted even than when Mom died.

(Dad was there when Mom died, Chris remembers suddenly. Dad was there, because the 118 responded to the crash, and he’d come home and he’d been quiet and sad and strange. But it wasn’t like this – raw, lost, scared – and Chris doesn’t know if it’s because Buck isn’t dead yet, and the fear isn’t gone, or if it’s because whatever Dad watched happen to Buck felt much, much worse.)

“Do you guys want to change into comfy clothes?” David offers. He and Carla are both still sort of hovering on the opposite side of the room, watching. “Since you’ll be staying home today?”

“Yeah,” says Marnie. Her voice sounds different.

Chris gets up from the table, and walks slowly down the hall with his sister. He’s listening intently as they walk – to the hushed conversation between Carla and David, to the sound of his father’s shaky, but louder voice echoing down the hall.

“We’ve had a – family tragedy,” Dad is saying. “They may be out for several days. I really – no, I don’t know for certain yet. Evan – Marnie’s father – is in the hospital, and – yes. Yes, that was him. He’s alive, but – thank you. Yeah, we’ll let you know.”

Yes, that was him. He’s alive.

Have people heard about this on the news?

That’s the only way Christopher can make that interaction make sense. People at school know that their dads are firefighters, and the receptionist or whoever had made the connection between Evan is in the hospital and a news report they’d seen this morning.

Yes, that was him. He’s alive.

Chris is suddenly, maybe irrationally, angry.

He hates so much that this is something other people know about. He doesn’t want the school receptionist to have seen this on the news before Dad got home to tell Chris and Marnie. He doesn’t want to go back to school tomorrow or whenever and have to answer questions about it.

A firefighter struck by lightning on a call is the kind of thing that makes the news.  The kind of thing people talk about, because it’s crazy. It’s crazy.

But he remembers when Dad got shot, because that was crazy, too. Remembers that he couldn’t hide it, remembers the looks from all the teachers and even some of the other kids – pity and sympathy for something they couldn’t begin to understand, but they all knew about. And he knows that this will be the same.

Everyone will know, and everyone will be sad for them, but no one will understand. And this time – being struck by lightning has an awe-factor. It’s almost cool.

This random adult from school, someone Christopher has probably met in passing but doesn’t even really know, knew about the lightning strike before Chris and Marnie did. Not that Chris would’ve wanted to hear about it from anyone but Dad himself, but – it’s not fair. That when crazy things happen, they don’t get to decide who and how to tell. That crazy things keep happening to them.

Their dad is dying, and the entire adult population of Los Angeles probably knows about it.

Christopher picks a t-shirt and pants at random, barely paying attention until he realizes that the shirt he’s grabbed is actually Marnie’s, mixed into his drawer by mistake. He throws that one at his sister and finds a different one.

He ends up in a t-shirt from the zoo, which feels appropriate in a way that makes his heart ache, since the zoo has always been Buck’s.

It’s a quiet day.

Dad finishes his phone call and the three of them curl up in Buck’s giant bed for a long time. Dad sleeps, restless but clearly exhausted, and Marnie rests her head on his chest but Chris can see that she’s awake. Chris is awake, too.

He’s tucked against Dad’s other side, feeling smaller than he has in a long time.

Christopher hasn’t had a lot of reasons to spend much time in Buck’s room, before. Usually, he only ends up here to grab something, then leave.

He’s struck, as he lays on Buck’s bed on one of the worst days of his life, by how much of Dad there is in this space. Little bits and pieces here and there, mostly, but woven inextricably from Buck’s things. Clothes Chris recognizes as his father’s on the half-clean laundry chair, mixed with Buck’s own. The book Buck bullied Dad into reading a few weeks ago, on the side table with a bookmark partway through. Photos of Chris and Marnie, with and without both of their dads, on the walls and both nightstands.

Not for the first time, Chris wonders why they bother keeping two houses.

Carla sticks her head in before she leaves, to say goodbye but also to tell them that she’s left some food in the fridge for tonight. David is making lunch, she says.

Dad stays home with them the whole day. David offers, a few times, to stay with Chris and Marnie so that Dad can go sit with Buck at the hospital for a while. Dad says no, every time.

(Behind Dad’s back, David gets this sad furrow in his brow every time Dad declines his offer. Chris gets it; they can all see how devastated Dad is right now, but he doesn’t seem to want to look at it.)

He goes back to work the next day. That’s the schedule this week – already on the books before Buck almost died. Chris is a little bit surprised that Dad is willing to go back, to be honest.

(He remembers, though, the way that Buck was after the shooting. He’d thrown himself back into work like he’d fall to pieces if he stopped moving, buzzing with something Chris had been too young to really understand. He would learn – later, much later, through an overheard conversation – that Buck had been there when Dad got shot, that Buck had been the one to save his life. It all made a bit more sense, knowing that. He can’t help but wonder – he can’t help but wonder.)

May comes to hang out with them for part of the second day.

Chris has a feeling that this is not so much because Carla and David were both unavailable – as far as he knows, watching Marnie is David’s only job – as because May needed to feel useful. Needed to feel like there is a way she can help, while her big brother is maybe-dying.

So May spends most of a day with them.

It’s funny, almost; May feels so much like an adult now. Chris remembers when he first met her, and she still felt mostly like a kid, albiet a much older one. But she’s grown-up now, after two years of working at Dispatch and most of a year of college. Even before the heavy weight of this situation, she felt different.

The Grant kids have always felt kind of like cousins, to Christopher. He has plenty of blood-related cousins to compare it to. He likes May and Harry a lot, is pretty good friends with Harry still even though he doesn’t live in California right now, but the way all the 118 kids get shuffled around amongst each other feels more like family than any of Chris’s other friendships. Harry and Denny are the only friends Chris ever sleeps over with on weekdays.

(Marnie doesn’t count.)

He thinks it’s different, for Marnie. At least a little bit. May is, for Marnie, in the same kind of grey area as Tía Adriana is for Christopher. She is almost exactly between Marnie and Buck in age, too young to feel like a real adult presence in her life, too old to quite feel like another kid.

“Have you gone to visit him?” Christopher asks, late in the day.

May nods. “I sat with him for a bit yesterday, while Mom and Bobby had dinner. I don’t think anybody wants to leave him alone, if we can avoid it.”

“Good,” says Chris, quiet. “I don’t think they’re going to let us see him.”

Marnie, tucked against his side, makes a sad, wordless noise.

“I think you’re probably right,” says May.

“That’s not fair,” says Marnie. “He’s our dad.”

“No,” May agrees, “it really isn’t.”

She makes them dinner, because on her side of the family that’s just what you do. You cook for your family, for the people you love, especially when they need some comfort. It’s nothing super fancy – she’s not as confident a cook as her mom or Bobby or Buck yet – but it’s warm and comforting and familiar.

Carla comes after dinner, to stay the night until Dad gets home in the morning. She gives May a tight hug before she leaves. Chris doesn’t think that May and Carla even know each other particularly well, but May is obviously trying really hard to keep it together right now and Carla is really good at knowing when someone needs a little break from that. And she gives really, really good hugs.

The third day is much like the first – quiet and tense, with no real news, Chris and Marnie trying to make sense of it all while Dad tries not to fall apart.

By mutual agreement, Chris and Marnie tell him they’re okay to go back to school on the fourth day. They have to face it eventually, and being at home isn’t helping because there’s no news – good or bad. Buck is still in a coma. Things are still uncertain and bad.

So they go to school. It sucks in exactly the way Christopher expected it too, except for the fact that even his classmates are talking about what happened, but are apparently too stupid to put together that firefighter struck by lightning and Chris Diaz missing three days of school might be related.

“Did you hear about that firefighter?” Jason asks, during their morning break. “The one who got struck by lightning?”

“Yes,” Chris bites out.

“Isn’t that, like, crazy?” says Jason. “I mean, I heard he survived, but it’s so cool.”

“It’s not cool,” snaps Chris. “He’s in a coma and he might be dying, and my sister and I are going to lose our fucking dad!”

“Oh,” says Jason. A hush falls over their whole class, and Christopher realizes he’d gotten a bit loud.

He stands up and walks to their teacher. “Mr. Higgins, I need to go to the nurse.”

Mr. Higgins looks at him with that sad, pained sympathy he’s been getting from all of the adults today. “Of course, go ahead.”

He should be getting in trouble for cursing, especially for doing it so loud, but instead he’s just getting that look.

Christopher can’t even bring himself to be annoyed about it, right now, just grateful to have an opportunity to walk away for a while.

The nurse asks him what’s wrong, when he gets there, and for the first time since Dad got home on Tuesday morning, Chris bursts into tears.

He and Marnie talk Carla into taking them to the hospital after school. They deserve to get to see Buck, even if they’re not supposed to. He’s their dad. He’s their dad.

Carla doesn’t take much convincing, to be honest. And she does the talking when it comes to convincing Dad to help sneak them in.

Marnie doesn’t say anything, when they get into the room. She’s been quiet this week, quieter than usual in a way that would worry Chris if he didn’t know exactly why. She’s quiet for the same reason Chris’s temper is hair trigger, the worry and uncertainty almost too heavy to carry.

Marnie has been quiet all week, so Christopher talks.

Christopher talks, and he asks Buck to come back. No – he doesn’t ask. He tells Buck that he has to come back. That he has to come home and be okay, because they love him and they need him.

Dad is in the room, but he won’t look at Buck. It seems like he can’t, scrubbing at his teary eyes and looking everywhere but the bed where Buck lies.

In the end, they don’t stay too long. Chris and Marnie aren’t supposed to be there, after all, even though Chris is glad they came. Glad he got to see Buck with his own eyes, at least for a few minutes.

They’re in the waiting room, because one of the doctors wants to talk to Dad and Aunt Maddie about something, but Aunt Maddie isn’t here yet. She’s on her way, Dad says, it’ll just be a few extra minutes.

When she does arrive, she walks in with two old people who Chris has enough information to guess are her parents. They are a lot older than Bobby and Athena, or at least they seem to be, and Chris knows that Bobby and Athena are actually old enough to be Buck’s parents. Maybe not Maddie’s, though, he supposes. Maddie is a lot older than Buck is.

 Anyway, the point is that Maddie’s parents look a lot older than Chris and Marnie’s respective grandparents, which is probably a function of mostly Chris and Marnie being born when their respective fathers were relatively young, and maybe also being terrible reflecting outwardly in looking old for their ages. Chris doesn’t actually know how old they are.

He sees Mr. and Mrs. Buckley watching them.

Mrs. Buckley says, in a voice that is not quiet enough, “I don’t really think it’s appropriate for children to be here.”

“They’re his kids, Mom,” Aunt Maddie says, much lower.

“Hmm,” says Mrs. Buckley.

Maddie gets pulled away with Dad to talk to the doctor, and the Buckleys settle across the waiting room from Chris and Marnie. Chris is playing a game on his phone and Marnie, quiet, is resting her head on his shoulder, breathing slowly enough that he almost thinks she’s asleep.

(Almost.)

After a few minutes, Mrs. Buckley gets up and crosses the room.

“Hello,” she says, “you’re Marnie and Christopher, right?”

Marnie sits up. “Um, yes.”

“I’m Margaret,” says Mrs. Buckley. “I’m your grandmother.”

“Uh, no thank you,” Marnie blurts. It’s polite in tone, if not necessarily the nicest way to say it.

Margaret startles. “What?”

“I have a grandma,” Marnie says.

“Most people have two,” Margaret says, her tone tipping condescending.

“You’re technically the third one, actually,” says Chris.

“Well –“

Marnie is shifting next to Chris, obviously upset.

Fortunately, someone else comes into the waiting room, now, who Chris knows can help.

“Athena?” he says, not yelling but loud enough for his voice to carry. He feels his sister relax a little bit. “This lady is making Marnie uncomfortable.”

Athena is in front of them lightning fast.

No.

Athena is in front of them in an instant.

“You must be Margaret,” Athena says. “I’m Athena Grant, I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Mrs. Buckley looks surprised and maybe confused. Athena looks the kind of nice that’s actually a little bit sharp.

“That’s right,” says Mrs. Buckley. “I’m Marnie’s grandmother.”

She does seem like the type to insist on being called Grandmother, too.

“Hmm,” says Athena. “Buck hasn’t introduced you to the kids yet, if I recall correctly.”

“Well, no,” Mrs. Buckley admits. “But I don’t wan the first time I meet my grandchildren to be at Evan’s funeral!”

Marnie lets out a sharp, pained noise.

Athena puts her hand on Margaret’s arm. “Kids, your granddad went to the chapel. Why don’t you go keep him company, while I have a nice chat with Margaret and Phillip?”

Chris nods. Athena leads Margaret away with a firm hand.

Marnie gets up and passes Chris his crutches, which had been propped against the arm of her chair, since she was on the end.

She doesn’t say anything at all until they’re at the chapel door.

“Do you think Dad’s gonna die?” Marnie says, her voice small.

“I don’t know,” Chris tells her, honest. “But I really, really hope he doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” says Marnie. “Me, too.”

And then they step inside, and Bobby stands immediately to pull them both into a hug.

--

Buck lives.

The first few days after he wakes up, when he’s still in the hospital, are deeply disorienting.

Getting home helps a lot.

In the hospital, it’s impossible to tell at a glance whether he’s actually in the real world or not. He’d “woken up” in the hospital in his coma dream.

At home, it’s obvious, immediately.

Coma Dream Evan had lived in a giant but soulless studio loft. He didn’t have any children. He didn’t have Eddie.

That was the first cue that something was very, very wrong in this imaginary world. But it had made sense – in a world where Daniel lived and their parents loved him, presumably there was no Buck 1.0. And in a world with no Buck 1.0, there is no Marnie Maddie Buckley.

He’d been a teacher, not a firefighter. When he’d hunted down Chimney, still living in his old apartment, he had told Buck that Eddie hadn’t been able to make it in LA without him – without the support of a best friend, but more importantly without someone to connect him with Carla for Christopher. He’d told him that Bobby was dead, years ago, without Buck to pull him out of his head and into a family.

In Buck’s bedroom, at his house, there is a photo on his nightstand of him, Marnie, Eddie, and Chris. There is a photo of Bobby carrying Marnie, back when she was still teeny tiny. She’s so tall now.

Buck can roll over, when he wakes up, and see evidence that they’re here. That they’re part of his life.

He still texts Bobby in the morning anyway.

Maddie has organized a Buck-babysitting plan, which took about two visitors for him to figure out. He’d like a little more room to breathe, to figure out how to adjust back into the world on his own. He doesn’t know how to say that to Maddie, though. She’s trying to look out for him, like she always has, even if it’s a little – much.

So he puts up with it for a few days, with people showing up across all of his waking hours, particularly when Marnie is at school, before he finally gets fed up. He brings Marnie to the Diazes’ house, doesn’t tell Maddie he’s going.

“Don’t ask me how I am,” Buck says in a low voice as he brushes past Eddie on his way into the house. Marnie takes off for Chris’s room immediately.

“Alright, I won’t,” says Eddie. “You want a beer?”

“Yeah,” Buck replies. “Maybe more than one.”

He hasn’t been sleeping well, since the strike. There’s a part of him that doesn’t trust he’ll wake up in the real world again.

He falls dead to the world asleep on Eddie’s couch about four seconds after sitting down.

When he wakes up, it’s late. The sun is fully set, the lights in the house half-dimmed.

Buck can hear Eddie moving around in the kitchen.

He follows the sound, unsurprised to find him assembling the kids’ lunch boxes in the half-lit room. They started keeping two for each kid years ago, when it became clear that they were the most likely item to get forgotten at one house or the other.

“Hey,” Eddie says softly.

“Hey,” Buck replies. “I think I fell asleep.”

“You think?” says Eddie. “You were knocked out before I even got back from the fridge.”

“Sorry,” says Buck.

“Don’t be,” says Eddie. “You still want that beer?”

“Maybe some water?” Buck says, taking a seat at the table.

“Comin’ up,” Eddie replies. He gets the pitcher out of the fridge – despite the in-door water, Eddie has kept a filter pitcher in the fridge as long as Buck has known him – and a glass from the cupboard.

He waits, watching, while Buck takes a sip.

Buck sighs.

“What – what do you remember about getting shot?” Buck asks.

Eddie startles, almost imperceptibly. Like he wasn’t expecting the question. “Uh, I remember – I remember a searing pain. Felt like I got hit by a bus, but I was still standing.”

He pauses, looking at Buck for a long moment, before returning his gaze to the sandwiches he’s making for their kids.

“You were covered in blood,” Eddie says, quieter. “It’s fragmented after that, but I remember thinking: this is the end of my life. You were saying my name, and then it all went dark. Then I woke up in the hospital.”

“And that’s it?” Buck says. His voice sounds more raw than he expects.

He didn’t expect Eddie to remember so much of him.

“That’s it,” Eddie confirms. “No bright white light, nothing. I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t.” He fixes Buck with another studying look. “Now am I allowed to ask how you’re doing?”

“Honestly, Eddie?” says Buck.

Eddie nods, prompting.

“I don’t know,” Buck admits.

Eddie looks away again, this time glancing up at the ceiling as he takes a deep, steadying breath. “You died, Buck. You’re going to feel a lot of ways about that – you need to let yourself feel about that.”

“Thanks,” says Buck.

“You ready for bed?” Eddie says.

“I’ve been sleeping for shit,” says Buck.

“I got that, actually,” says Eddie. “But you fell asleep here, like it was nothing. Come to bed, I think it’ll be easier here.”

And it is, of course.

It’s easier to fall asleep with the weight of Eddie’s arm around his waist. Easier to wake up and not panic with a tangible reminder of everything Dream Evan didn’t have.

They switch houses after the third night of this, because the kids both have real mattresses at Buck’s place, but even in his own house it’s easier with Eddie there.

(Everything is easier when Eddie is there.)

It’s in the second week that they discover Buck’s crazy new math powers. Eddie’s the one who does the research on it, because Buck has been studiously avoiding researching anything about lightning strikes or strike survivors mostly because thinking about the whole thing too long makes him kind of nauseous. So Eddie does the research to find out that it’s relatively common but usually temporary, and Eddie is the one to come up with a fun opportunity to take advantage of it while they can.

He tells Buck to dress nice, and takes him out to what feels almost like a speakeasy to play poker with a fascinating mix of the LAFD’s finest. He cleans up, naturally, and wins them some very nice steaks, and it’s fun for the first time since Buck died.

It’s easy to spend time with Eddie in a way that hasn’t quite come naturally with everyone else since he died. Eddie is just as worried about him, Buck knows, but with Eddie Buck feels less pressure to prove that he’s okay. Eddie doesn’t care if he’s okay as long as he’s alive, breathing and within reach.

So it’s fun.

They’re dressed all snazzy and they have nice cocktails while they’re out. Eddie looks amazing in his suit, and with that fond smile that Buck keeps catching out of the corner of his eye. There’s only one small hiccup in the whole night, when someone brings up Buck’s death, and he feels Eddie go sharp and tense next to him for just a moment.

That’s when Buck learns that Eddie knows how long Buck was dead down to the second.

But overall, it’s an easy, fun night and Buck and Eddie laugh all the way home.

There’s this moment, when they’re laughing, tipsy and happy to be alive and together, and Buck is trying to find his keys to let them into the house. They’re on the doorstep, and Eddie’s laugh falls off.

Buck looks at him, still digging for his keys. He’s watching Buck with a soft, glowing fondness that sends a buzz through Buck, haloed by the warm light of the incandescent porch lamp.

He’s beautiful, Buck thinks.

And for a moment, just a fraction of a second, Buck thinks that maybe –

The moment passes. He finds his keys and lets them into the house.

It’s not until he’s half awake in the hazy light of the next morning, Eddie’s weight against his side a solid reminder of reality, that the thought filters all the way through: last night felt like a date.

And for a moment, right at the end, Buck almost wished that it was.

--

Buck comes back to work fairly quickly.

The whole thing had been so drawn out, only to resolve all at once. He’d been hanging in limbo, somewhere between here and gone, for days, and then – he was awake. He was recovered. He was approved back to the 118.

Eddie is grateful that the hardest parts are over, but he knows that Buck is still reckoning with what happened. He is still reckoning with what happened, and it didn’t even happen to him.

No.

Eddie is still reckoning with what happened, and he isn’t even the one who died.

It did happen to him.

He’d been there; he’d been counting the seconds the man he loves was dead. He’d been burned by the same lightning that stopped Buck’s heart. He’d gone home to tell their kids they might lose him.

Anyway.

He’s dealing with it. They’re dealing with it.

They’re all fucking dealing with it. Most of all Buck.

Buck decides to deal with it in a particular way, and Eddie can’t begrudge him trying to wrap his head around it but God. Fucking. Damn it.

See, there’s this call.

A car crashes through the wall of a funeral, only to hit the (still living) deceased. It’s a living funeral, apparently, because the woman is dying and wanted an opportunity to reconnect with her family and have a moment with them before she goes. It’s a little strange to Eddie in format, but he can get behind the idea, he supposes.

The dying woman is not the problem, though. It’s the death doula.

Natalia is nice enough, from the moment that Eddie catches of her. Buck has a date with her on Saturday, apparently.

Eddie can understand the urge. Here’s someone who isn’t afraid of death, isn’t afraid of the fact that he, Buck, has died. Someone with no expectations on how he’s supposed to be feeling or behaving. She doesn’t know him, so she’s safe. And, historically, for Buck one of the best ways to feel alive is to find someone to feel alive with.

All of that Eddie can understand.

Sure, he’s been trying to test the waters to see if there could be something more between the two of them, since Buck woke up. Watching him die had set certain things into sharp, clear focus.

But if Buck isn’t interested in that – or, more likely, isn’t ready for that, so soon after another upheaval – and wants to pursue something easier, something lighter, that’s fine.

That’s fine.

“It’s like – I feel like she sees me, you know?” Buck says.

That’s not.

“Sees you?” Eddie echoes.

“You know, everyone else – everyone else is keeps expecting me to – to be the same,” Buck says. “But she sees what I am right now. That’s who she wants to know.”

“So does she see you, or does she just not know you?” Eddie blurts. Buck looks over at him, startled. Eddie runs his hand through his hair, trying to regain his cool a little bit. “Look, Buck, if you want to pursue something with her because she understands some of what you’ve gone through, or because she doesn’t have any expectations on you being who you used to be, that’s fine. But don’t mistake that for seeing you better than the rest of us. I fucking see you, Buck. I’m the one who’s been with you this whole time, and I’m trying to give you as much room as you need to figure out what all this means for you. Your sister sees you, Bobby sees you, Athena sees you – and you know that. If seeing Natalia helps you feel better about all this, fine. But don’t – don’t fucking say shit like that, after everything.”

“Sorry,” Buck says, quiet.

“I want you to be happy, Buck,” says Eddie. “Whether that’s with Natalia or whatever. But you can’t pretend the reason it’s easier with her is anything but the fact that the rest of us went through this with you, and she didn’t.”

“I like her,” says Buck. “And it’s – easier, like you said. To spend some time with someone who wasn’t hurt by me dying. Me dying is only about me, with her.”

“And that’s fine,” Eddie promises. “It really is. I’m sorry it can’t be that way with anyone else.”

Buck shakes his head, his gaze distant. “No, don’t be. It’s been – weird. But you’re my family. And I’d rather have that than an easy time.”

“Good,” Eddie says firmly.

So Buck is seeing Natalia properly, now.

That’s fine.

That’s whatever.

That’s –

It’s the first time since Eddie put a name to his feelings that Buck has gone out with anyone, and he’s having a harder time with the idea than he would’ve expected, to be honest. Nothing is any different than it used to be, but Eddie is losing his fucking mind.

He needs to find a distraction.

He throws himself into helping the kids with school and with wrapping their heads around what happened with Buck. It works for a while, but they realistically only have so much need for him. They’re getting big, now, and they want to figure stuff out for themselves.

So distraction, ultimately, comes in the form of a date. Just like it had for Buck.

And like Buck, Eddie’s date is with someone he’d met on a call. Sue him, it’s pretty much the only way he meets anyone who isn’t a teacher or a parent of Chris or Marnie’s friends.

Marisol’s call was a few months back, for what it’s worth. Her brother had gotten trapped in the attic of her house when some expanding insulation foam got the better of him. Buck and Eddie had gone back to help patch her ceiling a few days later, since they’d done a lot of damage, but Eddie hadn’t thought about her since.

He’s at the hardware store, hunting down supplies for Christopher’s science fair project and Marnie’s language arts diorama. Marisol offers him some advice about glue, and they get to talking.

Eddie likes her, genuinely. She’s funny and a little awkward, and she asks questions about his job that he’s actually never heard before.

If nothing else, he thinks they could be friends.

So when she asks him out for coffee, he says yes. Tries not to feel guilty about the circumstances.

Marisol is perfectly lovely.

She’s perfectly lovely.

Eddie just really hopes that that will be enough.

Neither of their girlfriends come to Marnie’s birthday party in July, both of the relationships too new. Eddie doesn’t even have to fend off any well-meaning looks from Hen, who he is confident, now, can see right fucking through him.

It’s just their family, today, before Eddie and Buck take on the chaos of managing the friend party of something like thirty ten-year-olds on Saturday. And in Buck’s house, filled to bursting with the extended 118, including most of Pepa’s family, Eddie is happier than he could have imagined a few months ago.

Buck died.

No almost, this time, even if they got him back. Buck died, and there was a moment – a few days, really – where Eddie thought the world would never be quite right again. He knows, heart aching, that Marnie had the same thought herself at least once today.

“Daddy?” she’d said suddenly over breakfast.

“Yeah, Peanut?” Buck had replied.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Marnie had said. “I was afraid that you wouldn’t be.”

“Oh baby,” Buck had said, scooping her into his arms with tears in his eyes.

But he is here. And Marnie and Christopher are largely handling what happened better than the adults in their lives, but every once in a while that moment of fear bubbles back to the surface.

Bobby insists that the four of them pose for a picture with Marnie’s birthday cake before they sing. Her candles are arranged in the shape of the number 10, and they aren’t lit yet but the shape should still be clear in the photo. Chris leans close to Marnie, one arm hooked tightly around her shoulders and his cheek pressed to her temple. Eddie and Buck fall in behind them, Buck’s arm slipping around Eddie’s waist like it’s something they do all the time.

(They have been, actually, not quite all the time but certainly more than they used to, ever since Buck’s parents’ visit. Since the one night they pretended to be something they aren’t by doing nothing they wouldn’t do on a random fucking Tuesday.)

Eddie can tell, from the look on Bobby’s face, that the photo turned out well. Because he snaps it, then pulls it up to check that it looks good, and softens immediately.

“That’s perfect,” says Bobby. “I’ll get that printed for you, it’s a keeper.”

“Thanks, Bobby,” says Buck.

They light Marnie’s candles, and when she blows them out Eddie has a little wish for her, too: please, please, let this year be easier than the last one.

“I can’t believe she’s already ten years old,” says Athena. “Feels like yesterday she was this big.”

She gestures waist-height, her gaze fixed on Marnie across the room.

“It’s crazy,” Buck agrees. “Double digits! And Christopher starts middle school this fall. Hell of a year for milestones.”

Athena shifts to look at him, fondly amused. “Sure sounds like it. You two think you can handle it?”

“Course we can, ‘Thena,” Buck says. He throws an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie, helpless to do anything else, leans in.

Buck is warm and solid and alive next to Eddie, and after everything else he thinks that could get him through pretty much anything.

“Yeah,” says Eddie, “we’ve got this.”

Athena’s eyes flick between them.

“I’m sure you do.”

Chapter Text

There is a new photo hanging on the wall in Buck’s living room. Bobby had gifted it to him a few days after Marnie’s birthday, already framed.

In it, Marnie is sitting in front of her birthday cake, beaming. Chris is leaning into her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders in a comfortable, familiar gesture, with his cheek pressed against her head. Buck’s left arm is threaded around Eddie’s waist, Eddie’s right draped comfortably over his shoulders. They look like a family. They are a family: a single, comfortable unit, woven together too tightly to unwind, regardless of any girlfriends who may or may not be in the metaphorical picture at any given time.

(In the metaphorical picture they may be, but in the literal family photos they are not.)

Eddie loves this sweet little family photo. There aren’t actually a lot of pictures of the four of them all together; usually either Eddie or Buck is behind the camera. There are a few like this, though, from family Christmas parties and birthdays past, a few from their trip to Disneyland last summer. Posed and intentional.

But Eddie has a small hoard of another kind of family photo, all saved to one album on his phone.

There’s another version of the photo Bobby framed for Buck, taken a second or so before while they were still getting situated. The kids are squished even closer together, because Chris had squeezed Marnie in a one-armed hug before settling. Eddie and Buck aren’t looking at the camera yet, halfway through slotting together like interlocking puzzle pieces. They’re looking at each other, expressions soft and fond, partway through a conversation Eddie has long since forgotten.

Bobby had printed the posed one, and sent the candid to Eddie. Everyone does, which Eddie would find almost embarrassing if not for how nice it is to be known. He doesn’t even remember how it started, just that one day he looked up and he had a whole album of candids of himself, Buck, and the kids in varying combinations, sent to him by every member of the family. Dozens of little moments, perfect in their lively imperfection. Every one of them is full of life and love and laughter.

“Hey, Eddie!” Marisol says as she sits down across from him.

Eddie slips his phone into his pocket. Tries not to feel like he’s making a mistake. He likes Marisol, he really does.

“Hey, you made it.”

“Sorry I’m late, you would not believe the accident I got caught behind on my way here,” Marisol says. She pauses, laughs. “I mean, I suppose maybe you would. There was this pickup truck full of tennis balls –“

She’s a good storyteller, Eddie thinks. She’s got a good sense of rhythm and when to pause, what parts of the story will make him laugh.

The thing about Marisol is that Eddie is sure they would make good friends. He thinks that might’ve been where he went wrong with Ana – she was perfect in every conceivable way by the metrics he was expected to judge by, but Eddie wasn’t sure they could have ever actually been friends. Eddie knows that he and Marisol could be friends – he thinks they are, for a shockingly normal value of “friends” that Eddie genuinely doesn’t have a lot of experience with.

The problem with Marisol, ultimately, is that Eddie doesn’t know if he’ll ever fall in love with her the way she deserves. It’s still early days to worry about that, maybe, but it’s less worry than guilt, if he’s being realistic. Marisol isn’t like Buck, and some of the things he likes best about her are the places where she and Buck are starkly different, but –

Well, that’s it, isn’t it?

Marisol is lovely. She’s funny and she’s pretty and she’s grounded; she doesn’t mind that he has kids or the upfront way he’d explained his family situation to her.

She’s perfectly lovely, but she’s always going to be measuring up to the love of his life.

But he’s in too deep to back off now, so Eddie holds her hand across the table and laughs in all the right places and kisses her goodbye at the end of the night.

It’s going well.

It’s going as well as he could possibly hope, at least.

She’s met the kids, now, and Buck again as well. Eddie actually made a point of re-introducing her to Buck first, the two of them having dinner with Buck and Natalia before drinks with the team one night. They’d talked about introducing at least Marisol to the kids, and Natalia had honestly seemed kind of weirded out by their whole deal. Eddie counts himself pretty lucky that he’d found someone willing to roll with it.

So Marisol had come along for a family outing, something low pressure that let her get to know Chris and Marnie on neutral territory. Or, you know, as neutral as a museum the kids have visited a thousand times could be.

The kids had peppered her with questions about herself and her job and her intentions, and had come away with a largely favorable result. Marisol had loved them.

“I never would’ve known they aren’t biological siblings if you hadn’t told me,” Marisol had said, after. “They look so much alike, obviously, but also – they’re such a little team. I can tell they’ve had each other most of their lives.”

“Buck and I met when Chris was seven,” Eddie had replied. “Marnie was five.”

“And they’re twelve and ten now, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I bet it’s been good for them,” Marisol had said. “Having each other, having both of you.” She’d paused, tilting her head curiously at Eddie. “I’ve got to ask, Eddie, and I hope you don’t mind, but – why bother dating other people at all? The four of you seem so – settled.”

Eddie had shrugged.

Lied.

“Buck is my best friend in the world, but I don’t swing that way.”

He doesn’t know what way he swings, to be honest. Even a year after I’m in love with Buck had clicked into place, he hasn’t interrogated it much further. Hasn’t needed to.

The important facts are these: Eddie loves Buck, in too many ways to count. Buck loves Eddie right back, and the shape of that is less clear to Eddie but no less certain.

Whether or not Eddie would hypothetically be into other guys is entirely irrelevant, because the only reason he’s even dating a woman right now is because to do anything else is to admit that Buck is it.

Buck breaks up with Natalia.

Buck breaks up with Natalia and doesn’t immediately tell Eddie about it – he sits with it for a few days, before awkwardly throwing it into conversation in a way that blatantly broadcasts do not ask me any questions about this. Eddie doesn’t have any questions about it, really. Natalia was never a permanent fixture, not really, more an opportunity to move on from dying in a way that felt safe.

Eddie is struck by an embarrassing urge to break up with Marisol, too.

He’s not going to do that.

Because, one, that would not be fair to Marisol, who thinks that she’s gotten into a relationship with a mostly normal, sane person. And two, Buck breaking up with Natalia does not magically make him any more interested in pursuing something with Eddie than he ever has been before. Buck is single but Eddie does not have to be.

Eddie is so fucking determined to be normal about this.

(It gets harder every day, as it gets harder and harder to look away from the fact that Buck is the love of his life. They have a family together, routines, a life – it wouldn’t be hard to fall into a romantic relationship with Buck. It would probably be the easiest thing in the world. It doesn’t hurt, Buck not loving him the same way he loves Buck, but sometimes his chest aches knowing how good it could be.)

Anyway.

Buck is single, Eddie has a girlfriend, and they still share a bed at least once a week.

“I don’t think she ever really got our whole thing,” Buck says on one of those nights, staring up at Eddie’s bedroom ceiling. “Natalia, I mean.”

“Most people don’t,” Eddie points out.

“You’re lucky Marisol doesn’t seem to mind,” says Buck.

“She told me once that she mostly thinks of you like my very amicable ex-husband,” says Eddie. “Not the first time I’ve gotten that, either.”

“People think we’re divorced?” Buck replies, sounding almost hurt. “Eddie, I’d never be dumb enough to divorce you.”

Eddie laughs. “I think it’s just the most – I don’t know, normal? Analogue to what we’ve got going on. We’re coparenting, but we’re not in a relationship – a romantic relationship – with each other. We’re closer than most friends.”

“I wouldn’t be dumb enough to divorce you,” Buck repeats, softer.

“I know,” says Eddie.

“Good.”

A few days later, Bobby and Athena leave for their cruise. It’s a west coast cruise, this time, which lessens the potential opportunities for shit to get out of hand. The trip does not start with flights that can be delayed or cancelled, or with a stopover at Athena’s parents’ house where a tragic secret can be revealed.

Somehow, though.

Somehow it still goes to Hell.

They had paid for wifi on the boat and international data for on land, so despite the delayed honeymoon of it all, Bobby and Athena had both been in pretty frequent contact for most of the cruise. Then that had petered out, after a cryptic text from Athena about a potential murder, and completely stopped just in time for a hurricane to head their way. Because of course there is.

Which is how Eddie ends up in the back of a borrowed helicopter, wedged between Buck and Chim. Hen is in the front, with Tommy Kinard, formerly of the 118, to whom Hen and Chim are both separately going to owe a huge favor after this. Separately, because they’d both come up with the idea to ask him about it independently of one another.

When they reach the ship, after almost two hours of treacherous flying, they almost don’t spot it. It’s overturned, almost if not completely upside-down in the water. There is a gaping hole in the side, where they hover hoping to find survivors.

(Hopefully there are lifeboats out there, somewhere, but Eddie has a gut feeling that if Bobby and Athena are anywhere, they’ll be here. Somehow.)

There’s a tension in Buck as they approach, pulled so tight that he’s not even fidgeting. Buck beyond fidgeting is never, ever a good sign.

They do find Bobby and Athena, and the scrappy little group of survivors they have with them. It’s a relief – Eddie doesn’t know, even now, what he’d have done if they’d come all this way and they’d been dead.

He glances at Buck, who’s stopped to talk to Athena as the others are helped up and out of the actively sinking ship. She has a hand on his cheek, a serious expression on her face. The tension wound tight through Buck’s shoulders is visibly loosening.

They clear the storm, and end up on the Coast Guard ship that had picked up the lifeboats and they don’t get arrested for stealing an LAFD helicopter and flying directly in a direction they’d been explicitly told not to.

Bobby pulls Athena into a bone-crushing hug. Eddie has an odd ache in his chest.

He turns toward Buck. Buck isn’t looking back, he’s watching his parents with a faraway expression. He opens his mouth, half turning toward Eddie, but before he can say anything –

“Good work, guys.”

Tommy appears between them.

Buck closes his mouth, shakes his head.

“Yeah, man,” he says, instead of whatever it was he was going to say to Eddie, “thanks for the assist.”

Weird.

Maybe Eddie will get to hear that thought later. The three of them head toward where Chimney and Hen have joined Bobby and Athena for what looks like a lively retelling of their adventure.

(He never does, as far as he knows, hear what Buck had been planning to say.)

A few days later, Eddie gets a text from Tommy Kinard.

--

Eddie is hanging out with Tommy Kinard and Buck is losing his fucking mind.

He’s trying to be normal about it, he really is, but Eddie’s been busy, a week into a new friendship with some guy. Some guy who seems to share a lot more of his interests than Buck does.

Fuck.

Fuck!

Is Buck not doing enough? Is Buck not enough? Has he declined the invite to basketball too many times? He hates basketball, but if Eddie is disappointed that he hasn’t been going he would go!

No, okay, Eddie is allowed to have other friends. Eddie has other friends! Lots of them!

Why is this making Buck go completely fucking insane?

There’s something about the way Eddie’s been talking about him, is the thing. Buck can’t put his finger on it, but it’s got him feeling –

Got him feeling –

“Buck, you sound like a jealous husband,” Maddie says patiently, over lunch. “Eddie isn’t cheating on you, or anything.”

Shit, it does kind of feel like that, doesn’t it?

But also, like, what the fuck does Tommy have that Buck doesn’t?

“The kids said they think he’s sucking up to them,” Buck says.

“What?” Maddie says, visibly skeptical.

“Like, both of them mentioned that when they were talking about Star Wars, he agreed with them about The Force Awakens being better than Revenge of the Sith, and they thought that was weird because no adult actually thinks that,” Buck says, and he knows he’s rambling, but – “Who lies to a child like that, Maddie?”

“You care so little about pop culture, and this is the hill on which you’re planning to die,” Maddie says, more to herself than to him. She shakes her head. “Maybe he just has bad taste, Evan.”

“Yeah, maybe,” says Buck. “Or maybe he wants our kids to like him so that Eddie will like him more so he can wedge himself into our life for – for nefarious purposes!”

“Or maybe you’re just jealous, because your,” she pauses, considering, “because Eddie is spending a lot of time with someone else.”

“I don’t think that’s right,” says Buck.

“Of course it isn’t,” Maddie says, sounding tired.

So Buck gets Chim to take him along to basketball, never mind that he hates basketball, still, and that Eddie would have brought him if he’d expressed even a moment of interest. He just wants to scope things out, you know?

See what this Tommy guy is all about.

He cannot possibly be that special.

Buck is buzzing.

Eddie lights up when he sees that Buck is here, which eases the buzz for a moment. But then he gets roped back into a conversation with Tommy, and they seem to play so well together, and for just a moment, Buck comes apart.

He doesn’t know why he does it. It’s not, like, on purpose or anything, but at the same time –

God, what the fuck is happening to Buck right now?

Eddie is on the ground, his ankle not obviously swollen yet but obviously in pain.

(Eddie is prone to rolling that ankle, Buck remembers suddenly. He’d sprained it once in middle school – a fucking ballroom dance injury, of all things, which he’d sworn Buck to secrecy about – and it had never been quite the same.)

Tommy takes Eddie to the hospital, because of fucking course he does.

Buck is still just kind of standing there, frozen, until Chimney catches him by the arm and leads him back to the car.

They have to stop for a few minutes while Buck has a minor panic attack, maybe. He’d hurt Eddie, he could’ve hurt him really really badly, because he’s already prone to injury on that side and if it’s even a light sprain it’ll still be Buck’s fault.

“Why did I do that?”

“Seems like the heat of the moment just got to you, pal,” Chimney says patiently. This is not the first time. He’s crouched in front of Buck, who’s sitting sideways in the passenger’s seat with his feet on the pavement and his head in his hands. “Eddie’s gonna be fine, alright? It wasn’t broken; it was barely swelling. He’s fine.”

“I hurt him,” says Buck.

“Yeah,” says Chim. “But you didn’t mean to, and it’s Eddie. He’s not gonna hold it against you. I don’t think he’s capable of holding it against you.”

“I’m gonna hold it against me,” says Buck.

“Yeah, well,” Chim says. “No surprise there, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Buck says.

“Hey, are you feeling a little better?” says Chim. “You good to head for home? Marnie Maddie is still at school, right?”

(Chim adopted Marnie Maddie back when he was living with them before Jee was born, claiming the rhythm of it has “grown on him.” Marnie loves it, because she always loves when someone has a specific name for her, but also because she thinks Maddie is one of the coolest people in the world and enjoys the reminder that they share a name.)

“Yeah,” says Buck. “Yeah, I’m – I’m fine. We can go.”

“Do you have your – it’s your phone case, right? That you do that texture thing with?”

Buck is struck for the first time in a while by how well Chimney knows him. He doesn’t make a big show of it, but he pays so much attention to the people in his life. Buck has never said that he uses texture to ground himself, and he doesn’t even seek it out at work very much, and yet Chimney knows.

Buck nods.

“Alright,” says Chim. “Why don’t you work on that a bit, and I’ll take you home.”

“Thanks,” says Buck. “And, uh, sorry for ruining basketball.”

Chim lets out a soft laugh. “Honestly, I don’t know why I expected it to go well.”

“Sorry,” Buck says again. He digs his phone out of his bag and starts running his thumb up and down the side of it, letting the feeling of the ridges bring him back to reality a bit more.

Chim waves him off, on his way around the car. When he gets settled in the driver’s seat, he says, “You’ve never liked basketball, man. At best you were going to be huffy and jealous over Eddie’s new bestie and mad you were playing a sport you don’t like. At worst, well –“

“This,” agrees Buck.

“Exactly,” says Chim. “Anyway, you have other good qualities. Being normal about Eddie just isn’t one of them.”

“I’m normal about Eddie,” Buck mutters.

Chim pats his arm without looking away from the road. “No, my friend, you are not.”

They pass the rest of the drive in silence, Buck still running his thumb along the side of his phone case.

“It’ll be okay,” Chim assures, not a hint of teasing in his voice, when he drops Buck off at home.

Buck spends the next two hours trying to get his head back on straight so he can go apologize to Eddie later. Both kids have extracurriculars today, but Buck is on to pick them up and swing over to Eddie’s for dinner, which was obviously in the books before Buck maimed Eddie this afternoon. He may not want to see Buck, after that.

He’s picking up kind of at random, anything that catches his eye as out of place, trying to get the house in order along with his mind. They’re pretty good at keeping things off of the floor, because everybody who lives here is conscious of making sure it’s easy for Chris to move around, but every other surface tends to collect random objects. The pitfalls of the two primary residents being a child with ADHD and an adult who also has ADHD, Buck supposes.

(Eddie’s house always shows evidence of this, too, even though Buck and Marnie aren’t there all the time. Eddie is better at getting around to abandoned tasks than the Buckleys, so there’s less, but it’s a task that will never really end.)

Someone rings Buck’s doorbell.

“Just a sec!” Buck calls. He’s holding three random socks, a mug, and Scales the Pangolin.

He darts to the kitchen to drop the mug in the sink and throw the socks in the general direction of the laundry, and answers the door with Scales still in his hand.

Tommy Kinard is on the other side.

“Hey,” he says. His eyes flick to Scales and then back to Buck’s face. “Am I interrupting something?”

“I was just, uh, cleaning up,” says Buck. He wiggles Scales in an approximation of a wave. “Kids, you know? Hey, come on inside.”

“I don’t think I knew you had kids,” Tommy says slowly, as he follows Buck into the house. This strikes Buck as odd, since he knows Tommy met them. Met Marnie.

“Well, I, uh, do,” says Buck. He tosses Scales toward the couch. “I mean, they’re old enough now that most of the chaos isn’t actually stuffed animals anymore, but they’re young enough that I just found a bunch of socks on the dining room table, so –“ he breaks off, aware that he’s rambling a little. “Sorry. What brings you over?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re alright,” says Tommy. “Eddie seemed more worried about you than himself.”

“That’s Eddie,” Buck says, distant.

“Anyway, I’d been meaning to talk to you, so,” Tommy say, “I told him I’d come check in.”

“Really?” Buck blurts.

“Yeah,” says Tommy. “I wanted to make sure you know that I’m not trying to get in between you and Eddie, or anything. God knows I couldn’t if I wanted to – he talks about you all the time, and his kids are clearly your biggest fans.”

Ah, so Tommy just assumed both kids are Eddie’s. Happens all the time, actually, especially since they look more and more alike the older they get, as Marnie’s hair darkens to a more honey-blonde, and Chris wears his longer so the curls are more defined.

“I know you couldn’t,” Buck says, and he does. Tommy is just some guy, and Buck has been Eddie’s family for years.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been in the way a bit this week,” Tommy says. He’s got an odd tone in his voice, like he’s fishing for something. Buck doesn’t know what.

“Yeah, well,” says Buck. “I’ve been, uh, trying to figure out what all the fuss was about. I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“You know how it can be when you meet someone new,” Tommy says. He’s moved a little closer.

Buck shrugs. “I don’t know if I do. Eddie’s had all your attention this week, it’s been hard to pin you down to get to know you.”

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” Tommy asks, a suggestive tilt to his voice. “Pinning me down, getting to know me?”

“Well, yeah, I –“

And then Tommy is kissing him.

Which –

Oh.

Okay.

See, Buck’s been spiraling for days over someone else having Eddie’s attention, having Eddie’s time, and he’s been trying and failing to file that into normal platonic best friend jealousy for every single minute of those days. All while failing to consider the super obvious, right-in-front-of-his-face answer: Buck is just in love with him. Fucking duh.

But Eddie’s not into guys and he’s definitely not into Buck.

And Tommy is kissing him right now. Buck can work with that.

“Oh,” he says, when Tommy steps back again.

“That okay?” Tommy says.

“Definitely,” says Buck.

“You free for dinner?” Tommy asks.

“What, tonight?” Buck replies. Tommy nods. “I’ve got school pickup today.” He glances at his watch. “Like, now, actually. But, uh, I could do Saturday?”

Chris has a weeklong class trip that leaves tomorrow morning, and Marnie has a playdate-sleepover at the Wilsons’ that night to get to know Mara.

“Saturday,” Tommy says. “I’ll text you.”

“It’s a date,” Buck replies.

Tommy leaves, and Buck gives himself like three minutes to panic some more.

Because:

1. Buck now has a date with a guy. That’s, like, 100% new for him. He thinks he’s into it, thinks it could be good in the long run, but it’s terrifying to suddenly, sharply learn something new about yourself. Especially when it’s something as potentially fundamental as this.
2. Holy fucking shit, Buck is definitely in love with Eddie. How did he fucking miss that?
3. But also, again, see point one. Of course he missed that. Which leaves, worst of all,
4. There’s no way Eddie feels the same.

Then three minutes are up, and Buck has to pick the kids up from school.

He cannot avoid Eddie, once Marnie and Chris are chatting obliviously in the back seat of his car. Chris usually tries to insist he’s old enough for the front seat, these days, but they’d been deep in conversation already when Buck arrived and there hadn’t even been a battle as they both shuffled their way into the back.

Eddie is camped out on the couch when they get home.

“Hey, kids, how was school?” he calls as Buck ushers the kids inside.

“Good!” Marnie chirps. “I actually learned – woah, what happened to you?”

“Dad?” says Chris. “You alright?”

Eddie waves them off. His ankle is wrapped and there’s an abandoned cold pack on the coffee table. “I rolled it at basketball, I’m fine.”

“Ed,” Buck says, low.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says again, firm. “It was an accident, I’m fine.”

“Right,” Chris says, glancing between them.

“Buck was there,” Eddie explains. It is an incomplete explanation, but Buck isn’t about to correct him in front of the kids.

Marnie wrinkles her nose. “At basketball?”

“I was just as surprised as you are,” Eddie says, and the smile he throws Buck’s way is almost heartbreakingly fond. “Glad he showed up for once, even if it wasn’t my best game.”

“I don’t know, you were playing pretty well until – “ Buck breaks off awkwardly, waving toward Eddie.

“I might’ve been showing off a little,” says Eddie. “Figured if you had fun maybe I could talk you into coming back sometime. I’m sure you’ve been put off of the sport forever now, though.”

“You’d be right,” says Buck. “Clearly I’m a bad luck charm.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, Buck. It’s barely even a sprain.”

“Still sorry,” Buck insists.

“Well, I’m glad you had fun, Dad,” Chris says after a beat of silence.

Marnie pats Buck’s arm. “Not surprised you didn’t.”

“I could’ve,” Buck says halfheartedly.

“Basketball, honestly,” says Chris.

“Hey, Peanut, what was it that you learned today?” Eddie says.

“Oh!”

Marnie launches into an explanation of the unit they’re covering in music class right now, on the history of the blues, while Eddie listens intently and asks questions at all the right times. Chris, who had done the same unit last year and also heard Marnie’s spiel already, wanders toward the kitchen in search of a snack. Once he has it, though, he comes back to rejoin them in the living room, curling up on the armchair.

When it becomes clear that Marnie’s explanation is actually only the setup for what she wanted to tell them, Buck takes a seat, too, on the opposite end of the couch from Eddie. Eddie plops his bad foot into Buck’s lap without looking away from Marnie, who has perched on the edge of the coffee table the way Eddie always does when he’s talking to the kids.

Suddenly, Buck’s panic from earlier feels almost silly. Of course he’s in love with Eddie. It’s not the end of the world, though, even if he doesn’t – can’t – reciprocate. Of course he’s in love with Eddie, and of course he’ll have this, their funny little family, no matter what. Of course, of course, of course.

He is kind of looking forward to the date, though.

Saturday evening starts – naturally – with dropping Marnie off at the Wilsons’ house. Hen and Karen are hoping that Marnie, who is close with Denny and also within a year in age of of Mara, will be able to connect with Mara a little bit. She’s been withdrawn and mostly nonverbal since they brought her home, but she seems to like Denny. They’re all hoping she’ll get along with Marnie, too. For her part, Marnie is beside herself excited. She and Denny haven’t hung out in a bit, with Mara getting settled in, and she’s been looking forward to meeting Mara for herself.

“You’re dressed fancy,” Marnie says, head tilted curiously.

“I have a date tonight,” Buck tells her, sweeping his hands through his hair a little nervously.

“Oh!” says Marnie. “Have fun, I guess.”

“I hope it’ll be a good one,” says Buck.

“Do you like her a lot?”

“I – I’m still figuring that part out,” Buck says. “We’ll see how today goes.”

“Good luck,” says Marnie. “Now, c’mon, I wanna see Denny and Mara!”

Buck laughs. “Alright, let’s get going.”

So he drops Marnie off with a cheerful wave and heads for the restaurant Tommy suggested. Buck’s been here before, but only once or twice. It’s not in the regular rotation for the 118 or with the kids, which is honestly a relief.

This date.

He’s nervous about it, is the thing. The idea of going on a date with a guy has him buzzing down to his fingertips, and he keeps running his hands across the fabric of his jeans for want of a better texture to focus on. He’s nervous.

This is new, entirely new, and a fundamental truth about himself he’s still trying to wrap his head around. He’s thirty-three years old, and he’s just figuring out that he might be into guys.

(That he is, definitely, into at least one guy. Not the guy he’s going on a date with, but a guy.)

And he doesn’t really know Tommy, besides the fact that he used to be at the 118 and he’s still friendly enough with Chimney and Hen that he was willing to risk his career to help them save their family. Besides the fact that Eddie had “clicked” with him immediately.

Buck hadn’t even clicked with Eddie immediately, for Christ’s sake.

Anyway, aside from the obvious implications it has on Buck’s sense of identity, this is actually a pretty low-pressure getting-to-know-you kind of first date. But the getting-to-know-himself aspect of it is borderline terrifying, so it balances out to a pretty normal kind of early date nervousness, Buck figures.

And it starts off pretty well!

Tommy looks good tonight, and Buck trusts his instincts to compliment him and wins an easy smile in return. They get a table and order, talking mostly about work since it’s the only thing they know they have in common. It transitions mostly naturally into the usual get-to-know-you kind of conversation – Buck talks about his sister and the kids when Tommy asks about his family, vague enough not to draw attention to the way he and Eddie have been coparenting for years, and offers his best stories from his travels when Tommy asks how he’d come to firefighting.

It's nice.

It really is.

But Buck is still tense. He knows he is, he thinks Tommy can see it, too. And if Tommy, who despite tonight’s pleasant conversation doesn’t really know him, has noticed, Buck is not being subtle.

“Nobody’s looking, Evan,” Tommy says eventually. They’ve finished their food; their pitcher of beer is almost empty. They’re waiting on the check and a decision on whether they want to try to catch a movie tonight.

“Hmm?” says Buck.

(This isn’t the first time Tommy has called him Evan. Buck can’t help wondering where he’d picked it up.)

“We’re just two guys having dinner,” says Tommy.

“This is my first date with a guy,” Buck reminds him. “I’m just a little –“

“Tommy?”

Fuck.

He’d know that voice anywhere.

For the first time probably ever, he wishes it were anywhere but here.

“Hey, Eddie,” Buck says, turning around.

“Buck!” Eddie says, even brighter. He’s got his arm around Marisol’s waist, and there’s a host a few steps ahead of them who’s paused, obviously trying to lead them to a table. “Oh, man, I’m so glad you two are finally getting along.”

“You and me both,” says Tommy.

“Wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” Buck chokes out. “He’s alright.”

Eddie laughs.

Great! That was a chill and normal thing to say!

What isn’t is:

“And after this we’re gonna go out and pick up some hot chicks!”

Jesus Christ.

Tommy, in his periphery, stiffens for a moment. Eddie’s brow furrows. Even Marisol tilts her head curiously.

“Anyway, I – I thought you two would be taking advantage of the empty house tonight,” Buck barrels on, trying to save the conversation. He wiggles his eyebrows, going for playfully suggestive.

“We’re taking a break,” says Eddie. “It’s taken a surprisingly long time to make enough space in our closets, you know?”

“Oh, you can never have enough closet space,” Tommy says. “Right, Evan?”

Wait, fuck, was that a dig? Was that a fucking closet joke?

Buck makes a kind of strangled noise of assent.

“Right, you guys were – were exchanging house keys, this weekend,” says Buck. And clearing some drawer/closet space for each other, apparently.

“That’s right,” says Marisol. “And making space for each other has been a bit more complicated than I expected. I mean, what could one man possibly need so many hoodies for?”

“Oh, most of those are mine,” says Buck.

“In Eddie’s closet?” says Tommy.

“Oh, of course!” says Marisol. “I should’ve known, Eddie runs hot.”

“Yeah, and I’m always freezing, so – so the sweaters are constantly escaping containment,” Buck says.

“Excuse me,” the host who’d been trying to lead Eddie and Marisol to their table says.

“Oh, right,” says Eddie. “We’ll leave y’all to your dinner.”

“So, uh,” Buck says, shifting back to face Tommy. “Movie?”

“I don’t think so,” says Tommy. Their server has brought the check back, somewhere in that trainwreck of a conversation, and he’s signing the receipt.

“What?” says Buck. “I – I thought this was going pretty well?”

“You’re adorable, Evan,” Tommy says, getting up from the table. “But I really don’t think you’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” Buck snaps. “To – to come out to the most important person in my life on the spot? No, I’m not. This is our first date, Tommy. My first ever date with a guy.”

“Exactly,” says Tommy, like this proves his point.

“Right,” says Buck.

So the date ends. It’s not exactly on a high note.

Buck’s just glad that he drove himself here, and didn’t have much to drink at dinner. It would really fucking suck if he’d been relying on Tommy for a ride.

He’s sort of itchy about lying to Eddie, even if he really wasn’t ready to come out in that moment. He hates lying to Eddie.

Eddie, meanwhile, is having a wildly out-of-proportion meltdown about the fact that, apparently, Marisol used to be a nun. So they’re both having a hard time, Buck supposes.

He’ll find a time to clear the air with Eddie eventually. He wasn’t exaggerating when he called Eddie the most important person in his life – at least the most important adult. And that means that, feelings aside, Eddie is pretty much top of the list of people Buck wants to share his newfound revelation with. Just, you know, on his own fucking terms.

(But he might out himself to Maddie by accident first. Whoops?)

--

Eddie’s been off, ever since running into Buck and Tommy at the restaurant the other night. Something about it felt strange, Buck’s behavior just wrong, and it’s been driving Eddie up the wall. Also, Marisol was almost a nun. He’d learned that in the shuffling of belongings over the weekend, and now he’s fixated on it for want of a better way to explain the off-kilter, wobbly feeling haunting him for the last few days.

He's at Buck’s place for dinner, the two of them hanging out in the kitchen while Buck cooks. Marnie is in her room, hopefully doing her homework, but Eddie has realistic expectations.

“Anyway, sometimes I wonder if it’s all even worth it – dating, you know?” Eddie is saying around the lip of his beer bottle. “Maybe you and Tommy have the right idea – stay single, hang out with the guys.”

There’s a pause. Buck isn’t facing Eddie, so he can’t see what his face is doing, but he goes very, very still.

He wasn’t moving much to begin with, but Eddie always notices when Buck goes still. There’s a stark difference between Buck not doing anything and Buck frozen.

“Actually, uh,” Buck says without turning around, “we were on a date.”

“What?” Eddie blurts.

“When you and Marisol ran into me and Tommy,” says Buck. “We were on a date.”

“A date,” echoes Eddie. His ears are ringing.

“Yeah,” says Buck. He turns slowly, eyes searching Eddie’s face. “Is that weird?”

Fuck. Fuck. Eddie needs to pull himself together.

“No,” he blurts. “No, definitely not. I just – uh. Tommy’s gay?”

Buck lets out a soft little chuckle. “Yeah. Did that, uh, not come up when you guys were hanging out?”

“It did not,” says Eddie. “Not that it’s – not that it’s a problem, or anything. That he’s – that you’re –“

“Yeah?” Buck says, softer.

Eddie may be reeling at the revelation that Buck is interested in men, but it’s not a problem. He can’t let Buck think he thinks it’s a bad thing. It’s a good thing, a great thing, even – save for the fact that he was out on a date with Tommy Kinard.

(Save for the fact that he’s interested in men but not, apparently, interested in Eddie.)

What’s a normal, grounded response to your best friend coming out to you and breaking your heart all at once?

“Hey,” Eddie says, “this doesn’t change a thing between us.”

This doesn’t change that Buck will always be the most important adult in his life – the most important person, after the kids they’re raising together – no matter who he dates.

This doesn’t change their relationship, even the parts of it that people already think are weird or codependent or kind of gay.

This doesn’t change how Eddie feels about Buck, even if Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

Buck’s face does something odd, something Eddie can’t quite read. There aren’t a lot of Buck expressions that Eddie can’t read.

“Good,” Buck says. “That’s a relief.”

Is it?

“Not that it matters,” Buck adds after a beat, “because he dumped me. Or – well, cut the date short. Doubt I’ll be hearing from him for a second, you know?”

“What?” says Eddie. “That’s fast even for you, bud.”

Teasing, Eddie can do teasing. That’s normal, right?

“Yeah, he – I mean, I made a bit of an idiot of myself, when we saw you,” Buck says. “And after, we were – we were gonna see a movie, you know? But he said he didn’t want to. Didn’t think I’m ready.”

“What, for a movie date?” says Eddie. “Look, in retrospect I know that seeing me totally freaked you out. I could tell even when we were talking that something was up. Are you saying he ditched you because you weren’t willing to come out to me in public with no warning? Because that’s a dick move.”

Buck huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said.”

“And what did he say?” Eddie prompts.

“Uh, nothing,” says Buck. “But I don’t know, I’m kind of – kind of bummed about it, you know? I do like him, and – and even though I was a little nervous, I was looking forward to exploring that part of myself a bit.”

“Hey, there are other guys out there,” Eddie reminds him. Guys like me. “People who would be patient with you figuring shit out, and not leave you at a restaurant feeling bad for wanting to come out on your own terms. If Tommy doesn’t want to be that guy, it’s his fucking loss, okay? You are so easy to love, Buck.”

 “I’ll take that under consideration,” says Buck. “Just – I mean, I’m used to people only sticking around for one night, but usually at least I get to sleep with them before they fuck off forever.”

Eddie laughs, startled. “C’mon, Buck, you deserve better than that.”

“If you say so,” says Buck.

“Hey,” Eddie says, standing up. “Come here.”

Buck shifts the pan he’s working in off of the heat, turning the burner off, and moves toward Eddie. As soon as he’s within arm’s reach, Eddie catches him by the sleeve to pull Buck into a tight, tight hug.

Buck sighs into it, pressing his face into the join of Eddie’s neck and shoulder.

“I know this must’ve been hard,” Eddie says. He knows, because he’s been avoiding a similar conversation for months. “But I am so fucking proud of you, okay?”

“Oh,” says Buck. And then, after a breath and almost too soft to hear, “Thank you.”

--

So the thing is.

Buck totally heard Eddie saying not to call Tommy again and that the world was wide open full of options of men that Buck could date, however since that had come at the tail end of a quiet rejection, Buck reserves the right to do something a little bit stupid and self-destructive.

Because as much as Buck appreciates the core of what Eddie had said, it had, ultimately, been a rejection.

This doesn’t change a thing between us was a blessing and a curse – it was, centrally and most importantly, a reassurance. Of course.

Buck may like men – and obviously, implicitly, Eddie – but it won’t change what they are. And what they are is close, involved, unusual. Eddie is Buck’s partner in almost every possible sense, and Buck being interested in men might have gotten in the way of that. Might have made Eddie uncomfortable, made him want to pull back.

This doesn’t change a thing was a promise that it wouldn’t, that Buck and Eddie would stay BuckandEddie how they always have been.

But also –

But also.

This doesn’t change a thing between us was the gentlest possible way that Eddie could’ve told Buck that he doesn’t have feelings for him. To say you may like men now, but I still don’t.

This doesn’t change a thing.

So Buck asks Tommy on another date, and convinces him that he’s really, genuinely interested in trying something. Asks him to be patient, but assures him that he is figuring his shit out, that this won’t have to be a secret or anything. And Tommy says yes.

(He comes out to the kids a few days later, not making a huge deal of it, and they both blink at him in a way he’s learned means that they aren’t sure why they’re being given a piece of information. But then Chris says congratulations and Marnie gives him a hug, so it’s not, like, a negative reaction. Just one that suggests that they maybe thought he was already bi or something.)

That’s going okay, so far, even if Eddie’s face had done something complicated when Buck told him about it that he couldn’t quite read.

Anyway, that’s happening but it’s not a huge deal right now because right now Maddie and Chimney are finally getting married in like four days.

Buck is happy for them; he loves Maddie more than almost anyone in the world and Chim more than most people. He’s so fucking happy for them. They’ve got a perfect kid, they’ve got a beautiful house, and now they get to spend a day telling the whole entire world that they love each other, surrounded by the people who love them best.

(Buck loves a good wedding.)

The one and only downside to this is that his parents are going to be here.

No, that’s not quite it.

See, Buck did, in fact, tell Maddie that he wasn’t willing to do any more so-called family dinners with the Buckleys. They could come for her wedding, obviously, because it’s her wedding and she gets to decide who she invites, but Buck isn’t going to spend any time with them outside of attending the same event.

The downside, inescapably, is that for the first time Buck cannot prevent his parents and his kids from being in the same place.

(He has been told, recently, that this won’t actually be the first time. When Buck was in his coma, his mother had approached the kids in the hospital. That she’d said the words Evan’s funeral in front of his already distraught children, while also explicitly ignoring the fact that Buck had been deliberately keeping her away from them.)

He can’t – and wouldn’t try to – stop his parents from attending his sister’s wedding, but he won’t stop his kids from attending their aunt’s wedding. Marnie and Chris both love Maddie (and Chimney, and Jee), and he’s not going to keep them from being there just because his parents are also going. It’s just going to be – delicate.

Also, unrelated but perhaps tangentially relevant, he’s pretty sure his parents still think that he’s with Eddie. That isn’t a bad thing, but it does make Buck’s heart ache a little bit in a way it hadn’t last year.

None of that matters, because Chimney goes missing the night before the wedding.

Buck had originally pitched throwing him a bachelor party, which Chim had fully and completely shut down by virtue of being too old for that shit, Buckley. So then it became Buck and Eddie hosting a nice family dinner for the 118 instead, something to celebrate Chim with just their team, and Chimney hadn’t shown up.

And Buck knows that Chim was actually excited for the dinner, so they’re all pretty sure that he hasn’t just blown them off.

Marnie and Chris are at Bobby and Athena’s, now under May and Harry’s supervision since Athena has joined them in their search for Chim. They’re all hoping to find him before they’re due to show up at the venue in the morning.

They don’t.

Buck gets nominated to explain the situation to his sister. It doesn’t go great, but he supposes it could probably have been worse.

“Buck?” Maddie says, sounding frazzled. “You’re so late! Why aren’t you dressed?”

“Maddie,” Buck says as gently as possible, “Chim’s missing.”

“What?” says Maddie. She’s fully dressed for the wedding, hair and makeup and wedding dress and all, and she looks beautiful except for the sheer unadulterated panic on her face.

“We were supposed to have that team dinner last night,” says Buck. “Remember?”

“Yeah, and then he was going to spend the night at Hen’s,” Maddie replies. “Did he not spend the night at Hen’s?”

“No,” Buck tells her, gently, gently, gently. “He didn’t make it to dinner. We’ve been looking for him all night.”

“What is all night, Evan Buckley?” Maddie snaps.

Buck winces. “Uh – maybe twelve or thirteen hours?”

“So why did I not hear about it twelve or thirteen hours ago?” says Maddie.

“We didn’t want to worry you,” Buck tells her. “I’m realizing now that that was probably a mistake.”

“Yes, it was!” Maddie says. “Go find Josh, he ran to the bathroom. We’re leaving.”

“Do you want to change, or –“

“No!”

So Buck goes to find Josh, who he almost physically collides with in the hall.

“Wow, Buck, you look terrible,” he says.

“Thanks, I haven’t slept because Chimney is missing,” Buck says tiredly. “Go put some shoes on, Maddie says we’re leaving.”

Maddie, Josh, and Hen end up on a quest to Dispatch to see if any relevant 911 calls have come in, with everyone else still scouring the city.

They find Chim, alive but delirious, and when he’s a little more lucid he and Maddie decide to go ahead with their wedding just right here in Chim’s hospital room. It’s still nice, more intimate than it was supposed to be but overflowing with relief and love and joy.

Marnie and Chris have made it their job to keep Jee-Yun entertained in the aftermath of the makeshift ceremony, the three of them camped in a corner with Chris’s Switch and more cake than they should probably eat. Buck keeps catching the sweet sound of Jee’s little giggle intermixed with her cousins’ brighter laughter, and it warms him all the way through.

Eddie keeps putting himself between Buck and the Buckleys, and he’s not bothering to be subtle about it. Every time they join a conversation Buck and Eddie are part of, he slides between Buck and his parents, redirecting Buck’s attention and preventing them from starting a conversation.

Athena and Bobby have been doing the opposite, trying to keep Margaret and Phillip captive in conversation as much as possible. If Buck had to guess it’s also in the interest of keeping them from talking to not just Buck himself, but the kids, too.

It’s a quiet thing, really, the three of them working around each other without obviously discussing it, and Buck feels so fucking loved. He wishes that the situation around that feeling were different – that the people who love him didn’t need to protect him and his kids from his fucking parents – but he deeply appreciates that they’re doing it anyway.

And then, almost as quickly as it all began, the hospital staff is starting to shoo people out. They’d been patient and accommodating when Hen explained the situation, but they’d put a hard time limit on the large number of guests and they’ve reached it.

Buck has volunteered to take Jee-Yun home with him, hoping that today ending with a fun cousin sleepover will stick better in her memory than the vague impression of adult fear that started the day. When he suggests it, all three of the kids cheer loudly.

Buck is so grateful that Marnie and Chris are so willing to play with and entertain Jee, both of them patient and playful and kind, even though they’re so much older than she is.

Eddie collects the kids, and Buck stops to say goodbye to his sister.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” he says, soft, taking both of her hands in his.

“Thank you,” Maddie replies, beaming. “Today was crazy, you know, but I think – honestly, I think this was perfect, in the end.”

“Very you,” Buck says. “An emergency on your wedding day.”

Maddie laughs. It’s honestly one of the best sounds in the world. “Very us.”

 “Hey, we’re heading out,” says Eddie. “Kids, say goodbye.”

Chris, Marnie, and Jee-Yun chorus a cheerful goodbye, Jee running over to hug Maddie’s legs one last time.

“That’s my cue,” Buck says. He leans over and kisses Maddie’s cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Maddie echoes.

Buck turns to leave, and for the first time all day finds himself face-to-face with his parents with no buffer at all. Eddie is already down the hall, herding Jee, Chris, and Marnie to the car. Bobby and Athena left ten minutes ago.

“Mom, Dad,” Buck says, “it was, uh, nice to see you.”

“It’s a shame it all fell apart today,” says Phillip.

Buck shrugs. “Chim’s alright, and he and Maddie are happy. That’s what matters.”

“Still,” says Phillip.

“Evan,” Margaret says, sudden. “When you and your –“ she waves in the general direction Eddie and the kids had gone, “Eddie get married – we won’t be invited, will we?”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Buck says instead of letting when you and your Eddie get married echo too loudly in his head. When, when, when. “I really don’t.”

He steps purposefully around them.

“I have to go,” he says. “My family’s waiting. But, uh, maybe I’ll send you the Christmas card this year.”

Eddie is leaning against the side of the car when Buck gets outside. Buck’s heart does something heavy and complicated in his chest when he remembers, again, that there is no when you and Eddie get married in his real life.

“Everything okay?”

“My parents caught me,” Buck says. Eddie pulls a face. “It was fine, I swear. Just – you know.”

Eddie tugs Buck into a hug. “Yeah, I know.”

--

It’s a normal, picture-perfect day when Eddie sees her for the first time.

He’s out with Marisol and the kids, while Buck works an extra shift covering one of the C-shift guys. They’re a few steps ahead of him, laughing their way through a story Chris is telling about the drama in the sixth grade.

He doesn’t know why he looks. He just happens to glance through a shop window, and for a moment his heart fucking stops.

She’s not Shannon, he knows she’s not Shannon, but –

But –

Jesus Christ does she look like her.

So he circles back, later, when he’s alone.

Has a totally normal, casual interaction with the ghost of his dead wife. Not the ghost of his dead wife, some poor woman who looks just like her, but also not not the ghost of his dead wife, not really. Because this woman – Kim, she says her name is – is a stranger, and Eddie can have whatever breakdown he’s gonna have in his own fucking head and it’s gonna be about Shannon and not this perfectly unrelated person expecting a normal fucking interaction.

She asks Eddie out.

And Eddie –

Eddie thinks about talking to Buck about it. Thinks about working through all the shit he never let himself think about when Shannon died, thinks about letting himself acknowledge, out loud, that he’s been in love twice in his life and the first time blew up so badly that he’s afraid of the second.

Eddie has a girlfriend, too, even if Marisol – lovely, grounded Marisol – is a distant second on the list of reasonable reservations Eddie has about this whole thing. Third, even, after Christopher who can never ever learn about this.

– Eddie says yes.

He tries not to feel too guilty as he lies to Buck about it, tells him that he has a date with Marisol instead and asks him to take Christopher for a night. Tries not to feel like it’s Buck he’s cheating on as he gets teased for wearing his nice cologne, as he leaves the kids doing their homework together at the dining room table, as he skates a hand along Buck’s arm as he says goodbye.

He feels crazy. He feels crazy.

He hasn’t told Kim that she looks like his dead almost-ex-wife, hasn’t told her that he has a girlfriend, hasn’t told her that he has a life partner. Definitely doesn’t tell her that none of those people are the same person.

It’s just –

There was so much that Eddie still had hanging over him when Shannon died. He’s not stupid enough – not deluded enough – to think that this is some kind of second chance or anything, but he can’t fucking help himself.

Especially because there’s a very, very guilty part of himself that knows that he’ll never fall in love with Marisol, no matter how well he likes her. He’ll never fall in love with Marisol, but he thinks he was probably in love with Shannon, properly, and there’s a small, guilty part of him that wonders if maybe Kim who looks so much like her, who’s churned up so much that he’d buried years ago, could be the one to let him slip past his feelings for Buck unscathed.

(It’s too late for that, and Eddie knows it, but he’s still on this fucking date.)

He sees her twice, before the guilt gnawing at him stops him from planning a third date.

Guilt over cheating on Marisol. Guilt over cheating-not-cheating on Buck. Guilt over Shannon, five years dead but still betrayed by Eddie going out with this woman who is nothing like her under the surface.

And then Buck meets her.

Kim had gone to the firehouse to visit Eddie, and caught Buck instead. Buck who met Shannon, Buck who had Shannon’s fucking phone number because he was an adult in Chris’s life and Eddie’s partner at work and there was a real chance those two things would collide one day and he’d need to contact her. Buck who watched Shannon die.

Buck meets her, and Buck is fucking worried.

Buck can join the club, because Eddie is worried, too.

“Does she know?” Buck says, his voice low. They’re in Eddie’s kitchen, lit by the nightlight by the sink and the sconce by the back door.

“Know what?” Eddie says, tired. There’s lots she doesn’t know.

“Know what,” Buck echoes. “Eddie. C’mon, does she – does she know about Shannon? Does this poor woman know she is the spitting fucking image of your dead wife?”

“No,” says Eddie. “No, I –“

“Eddie,” says Buck. His brows pinch together, worried.

“I know,” Eddie replies, “I know.”

“You have to tell her, Ed,” Buck says. “Please, you – you have to.”

Buck doesn’t know the fucking half of it, but he’s probably right.

Eddie invites Kim over a few days later, when he’s finally talked himself into it, and explains the whole thing. Shows her photos of Shannon, explains the way they’d left things and why he couldn’t stop himself from talking to her.

(He does not explain the other parts, the cheating or the tangle of emotions. That’s not what she needs to know, not really. The outcome is the same.)

And Kim is – surprisingly understanding, actually, but obviously upset. She leaves, and Eddie is sure he’ll never see her again.

He’s wrong.

--

Marisol took Marnie and Christopher to the movies today. She’d made a joke when she picked them up from Dad’s this morning that she really just wanted an excuse to see Inside Out 2, but was worried people would think she was weird seeing it without kids. Marnie doesn’t know if that’s true, but she’s not upset to have gone to see the movie. It was good, even if the ending made Marnie’s chest feel a little too tight.

She takes them for lunch after, because the movie was at like eleven, and it’s fun. It’s really fun. Marnie like spending time with her brother, obviously, he’s one of her best friends, but Marisol is a fun adult. The kind of grownup that’s willing to look a little silly in front of them, and doesn’t get embarrassed when they correct her about stuff.

Marnie always appreciates that in an adult.

Anyway, anyway, anyway, they’re on their way home, now. Back to the Diazes’ house, specifically, Marnie doesn’t remember why.

Marisol lets them in, because she has a key to the house now, and then Chris comes to a dead halt in the doorway.

“Mom?” he says, his voice very small.

Marnie leans around him, and what she sees –

She remembers Christopher’s mom. It’s been a long time, half of Marnie’s life, but she remembers.

The lady in their living room isn’t Shannon.

But for just a second, Marnie sees it. Her hair is the same-different, the cut familiar but the color wrong, and she’s the same height. Her face is older, but not too much – like what Shannon might have looked like if she’d been alive to look like anything.

And Eddie is touching her, his hands on her arms like they might hug or maybe –

No.

Chris takes off for his room.

“Eddie, what is this?” Marisol says. Marnie had almost forgotten Marisol was here.

She likes Marisol.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever see Marisol again, after this.

“Marisol, I can explain,” Eddie says.

“I think you’d better,” says Marisol.

“I’m just going to head out,” says the lady who isn’t Shannon.

“Yeah, do that,” says Eddie.

The lady who isn’t Shannon leaves, moving around Marnie and Marisol, still in the doorway.

“Peanut,” Eddie says, “could you go to your room so Marisol and I can talk?”

Yeah, that’ll be a long conversation.

“I’ll talk to Chris,” Marnie says by way of agreement.

“Thank you,” says Eddie. He catches her by the arm as she passes, leaning over to press a quick kiss to the top of her head. “I’m sorry you two had to see her. Can you tell Chris I’m sorry?”

“Eddie,” Marnie says, because she can’t hold it in, “why was she even here?”

“I didn’t ask her to be,” says Eddie. “I – she – I swear.”

And Eddie seems upset, so Marnie lets that lie. She takes the familiar path to the bedroom, the one their dads have long since stopped differentiating as Christopher’s even though it technically is just his.

“Okay, thanks,” Chris is saying into his phone when Marnie opens the door, “Love you, too.”

He hangs up and drops the phone onto the bed.

“Was that Dad?” Marnie says.

Chris startles. Like he hadn’t heard her come in. “What?”

Marnie waves toward the bed. “On the phone. Was it Dad?”

“No, my grandparents,” says Chris.

“Why would you call your grandparents about this?” Marnie says. She can hear Eddie and Marisol arguing through the door, indistinct but recognizable.

“I asked them to come,” Chris tells her.

“Why?” Marnie repeats. “They live in Texas.”

“I just wanted someone else to – be here,” says Chris, “for this.”

“Yeah, which is why I asked if you called Dad,” Marnie says slowly. “Who lives here.”

“Buck is always on Dad’s side,” Chris says.

“That’s literally not even true,” says Marnie. “But even if it were, like, what about Tía Pepa? Aunt Maddie? My grandparents, who live like twenty minutes from here?”

“You don’t get to decide how I handle this,” snaps Chris. “I called my grandparents, and they’re coming to LA.”

“Why?” says Marnie.

“You don’t understand,” Chris says. “She was – Dad was – and she –“

“She looked like your mom,” says Marnie.

“But she wasn’t,” says Chris.

“I’m sorry,” says Marnie. “I’m really – I’m really sorry.”

Chris’s face is red. He’s got his mouth screwed up tight, like he does when he’s trying not to cry. Eddie does the same thing, but Marnie has only seen it a few times.

Marnie crawls onto the bed, perching across from her brother.

“Why was she in our house?” Chris says, quiet.

“Dad says she wasn’t supposed to be,” says Marnie. “That he didn’t want her here.”

“But she was,” says Chris.

“Yeah,” says Marnie.

They sit in silence for a while. Christopher doesn’t cry.

“We’ve got to call Dad,” Marnie says, eventually.

“I don’t want Dad,” Chris says. “He’ll want to fix it; he always wants to fix it.”

“Of course he wants to fix it, he loves you!” says Marnie.

“Well maybe I don’t want this fixed,” says Chris. “Maybe I want to get out of this house.”

“You have a bed in our house,” Marnie points out. She feels like reason is slipping out of the conversation. “You could have a room of your own if you told Dad you wanted it. What are you planning to do, Christopher, go to Texas?”

“Maybe I am,” Chris says.

“You’re just going to run away? Without even – even waiting to find out why all this happened?” says Marnie.

“Why shouldn’t I?” says Chris. He looks mad. Angrier than Marnie thinks she’s ever seen him. “It’s a family tradition.”

“And who exactly did it work for, huh?” Marnie replies. She’s starting to feel angry, too. “Your dad, who came back from the army with bullet holes and PTSD? My dad, who was alone for years and years? Or your mom, who –“

“Shut up,” snaps Chris. “Shut up, you don’t know anything.”

“I know that Dad messed up,” says Marnie. “But if you ran away to Texas, you’d be the one making it worse.”

Chris flinches. “Shut up.”

There’s a knock on the bedroom door.

“Kids?” It’s Dad. Marnie’s dad, not Eddie. “It’s Buck.”

Eddie must have called him.

“Go away,” snaps Chris.

“I just wanted to let you know I’m home,” says Dad.

“Thank you,” says Marnie.

“Go away,” Chris says again.

“Just talk to him, Christopher,” says Marnie. “Maybe he’ll have some answers. Maybe he’s talked some sense into your dad.”

“No,” says Chris.

“Fine,” says Marnie.

When she stomps out of their room, it’s darker outside than she expects. She and Chris have been sitting there longer than she thought.

Their dads are sitting at the kitchen table, and Eddie looks up with so much hope in his eyes that Marnie almost feels bad for not being Christopher when he sees her.

“Has he – is he okay?” Eddie asks. Dad just sort of hovers.

Marnie chews on her lower lip. She doesn’t want to tell Eddie that Chris asked his grandparents to come. She doesn’t know if they’re actually coming, for one, but for another –

She’s always gotten the impression that Eddie doesn’t get along that well with his parents, you know? Not the way Dad doesn’t, looking toward to the Buckleys’ visits with heavy, visible dread. Just – he gets sort of stuck, when he’s talking about his family. He says all the time how much he misses Abuela since she moved back to El Paso, he tells Tía Pepa he loves her every time he sees her, but the only thing Marnie has ever heard him say about his parents is that they love Chris.

“He’s really mad,” Marnie answers.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, letting his head fall back into his hands. “Of course he is.”

It’s late, when the doorbell rings.

Marnie is sitting in the bedroom with her stupid brother again, both of them silently, angrily, reading. But the doorbell rings, and Chris looks up, sharp.

“Is that them?” Marnie says.

Chris nods. “Should be.”

“They’re not going to let you run away, either,” Marnie tells him. “You’re twelve, nobody’s going to let you leave the state just because you’re mad at your dad.”

“I’m allowed to be mad at him,” says Chris.

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” says Marnie.

“My grandparents have wanted me back in Texas since before we even left,” says Chris.

“What, without Dad?”

Chris nods. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Chris,” Marnie says, pleading, “that’s messed up.”

“Yeah, well, it works out in my favor today,” says Chris.

There’s a tap on the bedroom door again.

“Chris?” says Dad. Of course it’s Dad, again. They must think Chris would rather talk to him than Eddie, which is probably true in that Chris would rather not talk to either of them, but Dad isn’t the one he’s specifically mad at. “Your grandparents are here. Think about coming out.”

He doesn’t, though. Chris settles silently against the wall, arms crossed, and he waits.

“You told me that they treat you like a baby,” Marnie says, feeling suddenly a little bit desperate. “Is that better? Is it better than being mad at Dad from our house?”

“Leave me alone, Marnie,” says Chris.

“No,” snaps Marnie. “C’mon, Christopher, be reasonable about this.”

“I am not the one who brought – her,” he gestures sharply toward the living room, “into our house!”

“You’re the one who wants to leave the stupid state about it,” Marnie says. “Come on! You know that will only make it worse.”

“Maybe I don’t want it to be better,” says Chris. “Maybe I want to just be mad.”

“Dad would let you!” says Marnie. “Or Pepa or Maddie or –“

“Dad would want to fix it!” Chris says again.

“And your grandparents won’t?” Marnie says. “Christopher! Are you hearing yourself?”

“Leave me alone,” Chris snaps.

“Fine,” Marnie snaps back. “Fine. You want space? You want to be alone? You can have it. I’m done trying to talk you out of this, do whatever stupid thing you want.”

She storms out of the room and flops onto the couch with her book. The adults – all speaking in low voices in the dining room – pause, and Dad stands up.

“Peanut?” he says. “Is everything okay?”

“Chris wants to be alone,” Marnie says.

“Oh,” says Eddie, deflating.

“Well, he’s allowed to want that,” Mrs. Diaz says with a tone that Marnie can’t read. Sort of over-sweet and pointed.

“He is, but –“

Dad’s phone rings.

“May, this isn’t a great time,” Dad says instead of hello. And then his face falls, and he goes very, very pale. He walks out of the room very quickly.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says quietly.

Mr. and Mrs. Diaz both try to restart whatever conversation they’d been having, but Eddie is watching the kitchen door, distracted.

Dad comes back in a minute later, still very pale.

“Someone set my parents’ house on fire,” he says, looking haunted. “Bobby’s in the hospital.”

Eddie stands up. “Let’s go.”

“Eddie,” Mrs. Diaz says.

“Can you stay with the kids?” Eddie says. “At least I will be back in a few hours, if not both of us.”

“Eddie,” Mr. Diaz says, “is now really an appropriate time to leave?”

“Bobby is in the hospital,” Eddie stresses. “We’re going.”

“Don’t worry, Edmundo,” Mrs. Diaz says with obvious disdain in her voice, “we’ll stay with the children.”

Marnie doesn’t like that. She doesn’t like the way they’re talking to Eddie and she doesn’t like the way they’re dismissing Bobby getting hurt.

“You’d want them to go if it was your house,” she blurts out.

All of the adults freeze.

“What?” says Mrs. Diaz.

“If your house burned down,” Marnie plows on. “And one of you got hurt. You’d want them to go to the hospital, wouldn’t you?”

“Well –“ says Mr. Diaz.

“Of course you would,” says Marnie. “So stop stalling and let them go.”

“I really don’t appreciate your attitude, young lady,” says Mrs. Diaz.

“I’ve had a long day!” Marnie snaps. “And my granddad could be dying!”

Eddie and Dad both sweep over to her. Dad takes a seat next to her on the couch, tucking her tight against his side, and Eddie leans over the back of the couch to kiss the top of her head.

“Go see Bobby,” Marnie says. “Please.”

It’s the middle of the night, and if May thinks Dad should go to the hospital it is very, very bad.

“We’re going,” Eddie says, firm. “We’re going now, okay? And I’ll be back in the morning with news.”

“Okay,” says Marnie. “I love you.”

“We love you, too, Peanut,” says Dad. He looks scared.

So her dads leave, and the Diazes talk in low voices and eventually Chris finally leaves their stupid bedroom.

“Did I hear Dad leave?” he says, tentative.

“A friend called him away,” Mrs. Diaz says, that weird, sweet tone back in her voice.

“What?” Marnie says, startled. “What?”

Chris’s brow furrows. “What’s the matter?”

“They went to see Bobby in the hospital,” says Marnie. “May called and said – said somebody set the house on fire.”

“Is he okay?” says Chris.

“I don’t know,” Marnie tells him.

“We didn’t want to upset you, honey,” says Mrs. Diaz.

Chris frowns. “Right.”

“We should talk about getting you home,” says Mrs. Diaz. “Have you packed at all yet?”

“I haven’t asked Dad yet,” Chris says.

“Chris is home,” Marnie points out. “If he goes to Texas, he’s leaving home.”

“This is a family conversation, sweetheart,” Mrs. Diaz says.

“And?” says Marnie.

“Marn,” Chris says, quiet.

“Right,” Marnie says. She blinks hard, her eyes starting to feel prickly. “Okay, fine. Fine. I’m going to bed. You make whatever stupid decision you want.”

“Your bed’s not up,” says Chris.

“I am not sharing a room with you tonight,” snaps Marnie. “Our dads are gone; I’m sleeping in the other bedroom.”

She doesn’t wait for Chris or his grandparents to say anything else. She does have to go into their bedroom to change into pajamas, but then she stomps down the hall to curl up in her parents’ bed with the blankets pulled up over her head.

Marnie wakes up in the morning and hopes for a moment that she’s imagined all of it. That they hadn’t come home yesterday to the ghost of Chris’s mom, that Bobby isn’t hurt, that Chris’s grandparents aren’t here.

Just for a moment.

But then she wakes all the way up, and Dad is sitting at the end of the bed. He looks tired.

“Is Bobby okay?” Marnie asks. She’s nervous to hear the answer.

“He’s okay,” says Dad. “But it was really close, this time.”

“Is Athena okay?” Marnie asks.

“Just some smoke inhalation,” says Dad. “The house is gone; I’m going to ask if they want to stay with us for a while.”

“Good,” says Marnie.

“We need to go to the living room,” Dad says. “Chris’s grandparents are going to take him to El Paso with them for a while, you should come say goodbye.”

“What?” says Marnie. “No!”

“No, you don’t want to say goodbye?” Dad asks, looking confused.

“No, he can’t go to Texas,” Marnie replies. “Why is he going to Texas?”

“Because he’s upset, about what happened,” says Dad. “He wants some space.”

“And Eddie’s letting him go to Texas?” says Marnie.

“He asked,” Dad says. He sounds kind of helpless, like it wasn’t his first choice, either.

“He’s so stupid,” Marnie says.

“Marnie Maddie Buckley,” says Dad.

“He is, and I’m not taking it back,” says Marnie. “He can run away if he wants, but I don’t have to like it.”

“Oh, Marnie,” Dad says.

“Let’s get this over with,” Marnie says. She hauls herself out of bed, and she isn’t really surprised when Dad pulls her into a really tight hug before she gets very far.

“I love you, kiddo,” Dad says.

“Yeah, I know,” says Marnie.

Watching Chris leave is –

It really sucks, to be honest.

He won’t make eye contact with Marnie, probably because he knows he’s being really stupid. He won’t talk to Eddie. He won’t hug Dad.

He leaves with his grandparents, who don’t say goodbye, and when the door closes Eddie collapses onto the couch.

Marnie flops next to him.

“He told me that he didn’t call Dad because he would’ve fixed it,” she says, carefully not looking either of her fathers in the eye. “That’s what he said. Dad would’ve fixed it and he wanted to be mad, so he called his grandparents instead.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathes.

“Oh,” agrees Dad.

“I wish you never met that lady,” says Marnie.

Eddie pulls her close against his side. “Yeah, Peanut. Me too.”

Dad, who is still standing, makes an awkward lurch toward them before straightening up. “Do either of you need anything from this house?”

“What?” Eddie says, half into Marnie’s hair.

“Look,” Dad says, “I think this house is going to be hard to be in, for a while. Between Eddie’s friend, and this. So let’s just – call it. For now. Grab whatever we need to spend some time not coming back here.”

“Are you asking me to live with you?” says Eddie. “Like, continuously?”

“Sometimes I’m not sure why we bother keeping two houses in the first place,” says Dad. “So yeah, I guess I am. Come live with us, at least until this all stings less.”

“That could be a while,” says Eddie.

“Then it’ll be a while,” Dad replies.

There’s a beat of silence, with Dad and Eddie staring at each other. Marnie is still tucked comfortably against Eddie’s side.

“Go get the perishables, then, I’ll grab anything I can’t live without,” says Eddie. “Peanut, is there anything you need from your room?”

Marnie shrugs. “I can check.”

An hour later they’re locking the door to the Diaz house behind them. Marnie doesn’t know when they’ll be back next.

All she knows for certain is this: everything has changed.

Chapter Text

The Buckley house went from two permanent, official occupants to five basically overnight.

Buck had convinced Bobby and Athena to take his guest room while Bobby was in the hospital. It was the obvious choice, since he has the space and keeping them close is good for his peace of mind.

And after Christopher left, Eddie moving in on a more permanent basis just made sense.

It had taken a little bit of time, but they’ve settled into a rhythm everyone is more or less happy with. Well –

Almost everyone.

“Tommy wants us to stop sleeping together,” Buck says, annoyed.

Eddie pulls a face. “You told him that’s not gonna fucking happen, right?”

“I mean, of course I did,” says Buck.

“Quick question,” says Chim, “what the hell?”

“Huh?” says Buck.

“Since when are you two sleeping together?” Hen asks.

“I don’t know,” says Eddie. “Since always? More lately, obviously.”

“What?” Hen and Chim say in unison.

Buck runs over the conversation in his head. Then – “Oh! No, not like that. We sleep together, you know?”

“Uh, no?” Chim says.

“Like,” Eddie offers, “in the same bed.”

“That’s typically how it’s done,” says Hen.

“I’ve been living with Buck full-time since Chris left,” Eddie says. “I could’ve sworn this came up.”

“It did,” says Hen.

“I guess we were both just kind of assuming you were sleeping on the pull-out couch,” says Chim.

“Why would I do that?” Eddie says, sounding genuinely confused.

“Because Bobby and Athena are in the guest room?” says Hen.

“Yeah, exactly,” says Buck. “And Eddie’s with me. We always share when he stays over.”

“I think I may have been underestimating how frequently you two usually spend nights at each other’s places,” Hen replies.

“It’s – frequent,” Buck says.

“Frequent,” Chimney echoes, his eyebrows high. “How didn’t we know that?”

“I think you must not have been paying attention,” says Eddie.

“Right,” says Hen. “Maybe.”

Christopher is still in Texas, with his grandparents. It’s been a few weeks. He isn’t really talking to Eddie or to Buck; he’s not ignoring them completely, but he isn’t initiating anything. Isn’t continuing conversations they try to start over text. Helena and Ramon are communicating with Eddie a bit, but it all comes with a tone that makes Buck’s skin crawl. Buck is worried, and he knows that Eddie is, too.

(Especially since the kids’ therapist’s office called a few days ago to tell them that Chris missed another virtual appointment. Eddie is at his wits’ end, because making sure Chris kept up with therapy was the only thing he asked of his parents before they took him.)

Marnie is having a hard time, with Chris gone. She is freshly eleven years old, and struggling more with emotional regulation than Buck has seen in years. Three days after Chris left, she’d had a massive meltdown over Eddie trying to offer her the “wrong” shoes when they were trying to get out the door to Maddie’s for a playdate with Mara and Jee-Yun. They’d missed the playdate, and it took almost an hour for Marnie to calm down enough to snap at Eddie that she wasn’t actually mad about the shoes, so much as that he let Christopher leave. Since then, she’s been emotionally hair trigger – she’s less patient, more snappy, and prone to bursting into tears over even minor inconveniences.

Marnie has not missed a single therapy appointment this summer.

It’s hard for Buck to assess whether the dysregulation is because Chris is a grounding factor in her life, usually, or if it’s less specific than that and comes down more to one more major upheaval in a still very young life. He knows that she’s mad at Chris for leaving, is pretty sure she’s ignoring him with the same dedication that Chris is ignoring Buck and Eddie. Buck has been talking it over with Eddie for weeks, and neither of them know how to help her.

Chris and Marnie have both weathered so much for their age, it’s honestly a miracle neither of them have had a major breakdown before. And now here they are, both breaking down in their own ways.

Meanwhile, Buck is feeling a little bit off kilter himself. Bobby is alive, and recovering as well as one could reasonably hope, but he’s not currently working at the 118. He’d been threatening to retire before everything happened, and between that and his recovery he’s been kicked to a TV consulting position as light duty for the moment. His replacement, temporary though he will hopefully be, is the infamous Captain Gerrard, who Chimney and Hen had both started under. He’s also an asshole.

The only thing keeping Buck from losing his mind at work is that Bobby is living in his house, tangible and alive and constantly shooting pointed looks at Buck when he brushes close to Eddie in the kitchen or nestles next to him on the couch.

(Buck has a theory about the why of all that, but since Bobby seems content to watch it all happen and wait for Buck to come to him about it, he’ll be waiting a long time.)

Anyway, Buck is off kilter but he’s thirty-three and better at handling it than his eleven-year-old daughter, so he’s getting by. With Chris in Texas, Bobby away from the 118, and Mara displaced from the Wilsons, their whole family is a little bit shaken right now. Life is about as good as it could reasonably be expected to be, at the moment.

“I still don’t understand why Eddie isn’t in the guest room,” Tommy says.

“My parents are in the guest room,” Buck points out. Again. “Because their house burned down. And this is what Eddie and I have always done.”

“Why is Eddie staying with you at all?” says Tommy.

“For the same reason as the last time you asked,” replies Buck. “Look, the shape of my family doesn’t change just because you think it’s weird. It’s hard for all three of us to be at Eddie’s place right now, and I’m not about to make him go back there alone just because you don’t like us sharing a bed.”

“Jesus Christ, Evan, do you even hear yourself?” Tommy says.

“It’s not like you’d even want to come back to my place even if he weren’t living there,” Buck says. “My parents and my kid would still be there even if Eddie weren’t.”

“God, don’t even get me started on that,” says Tommy.

“I’m leaving,” says Buck. “I don’t need this, on top of everything else going on right now. Call me when you can handle being normal about other people’s lives.”

And then he goes home.

Buck can’t help wondering whether it’s worth continuing this thing with Tommy, at this point. He’s gotten what he needed out of it, right? He’s learned, for certain, that he’s interested in men. He’s bisexual.

And the thing is, he’d liked Tommy, genuinely, when all this started. He’s good looking, he understands Buck’s job better than any of Buck’s other exes, he’s occasionally very funny. But also –

Well, it probably says something that Buck is already categorizing him with his other exes, doesn’t it?

And he keeps coming away from dates with Tommy feeling a little bit run-down, exhausted, because he spends so much of them running up against Tommy’s insecurities and inability to wrap his head around Buck’s family situation. He still feels like he barely knows the guy, even after they’ve nominally been seeing each other for almost four months, because any time they get into a serious personal conversation it devolves into your boss is not your dad and which kid is even yours and stop sharing a bed with the person you care about most in the world because it makes me, your boyfriend of ten minutes, uncomfortable.

So Buck thinks he’s probably winding toward the end of this whole situation, realistically, but he doesn’t feel that so strongly that it’s worth ending things quite yet. The sex is good, at least, and when they’re not having tiring, circular conversations, he enjoys himself on their dates.

He just can’t afford to give this up, yet. With everything else so chaotic, it’s nice to have a designated excuse to get out of the house, alone, and do something that makes him feel good. Even if it only makes him feel really good some of the time.

“You’re home early,” Athena says as he lets himself into the house.

“Yeah, well,” Buck replies. He doesn’t finish the thought.

Athena notices, of course, because Athena notices fucking everything. “What did he say this time?”

“It’s fine, ‘Thena,” Buck says, and it’s halfhearted even to his own ears.

“Buck,” says Athena. Warning.

“The same shit as always,” says Buck. “It’s fine.”

“Buck,” Athena says again. She’s got that intense concern and borderline disappointment lacing the word, the kind that should get him to spill everything he’s keeping from her. He’s seen it work on her other kids a dozen times, seen it work on other people’s kids. He’s done it to Marnie and Chris himself.

But –

“That tone isn’t going to work on me, I didn’t have a mom who loved me as a child,” Buck reminds her.

Athena sighs. “One of these days, I’m going to have a less-than-civil conversation with Margaret Buckley.”

“I hope I’m there to see it,” Buck says. He kisses the side of Athena’s head as he moves past her.

“Don’t you go running off,” says Athena.

“Mom,” Buck says. Despite everything, he doesn’t actually call Athena or Bobby by parental titles very often. Sometimes it slips out, though. “It’s fine, I’m fine, he’s fine. He’s self-centered, and it is not the end of the world. This relationship is not that serious.”

“I don’t like him for you,” says Athena.

“It’s not that serious,” Buck promises again. “This relationship is just for fun, not forever.”

Athena pats his cheek, shaking her head in a way that Buck knows to mean that she knows something he doesn’t. “Baby, that excuse was a lot more convincing when you looked like you were enjoying yourself.”

Buck lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’ve never known you to be good at taking care of yourself,” says Athena. “So I worry.”

“I know,” says Buck. “I know. I’m trying to be better at it.”

“Seeing that man is not helping,” Athena says.

“He isn’t that bad, ‘Thena,” says Buck.

Athena shoots him another unimpressed look. “The way he talks to you – and he’s so much older –“

“He’s, like, the same age as Abby,” Buck says.

“She was definitely too old for you,” says Athena.

“That was not the problem with that relationship,” Buck replies. “With Abby, it was – was like, the most serious relationship I’d ever been in, almost immediately. We went from zero to all-in, like, instantaneously. This feels like the opposite of that; I’ve been seeing Tommy for months now and I’m still not sure he knows that Marnie is actually, legally my kid.”

Athena frowns. “You talk about her all the time.”

“Yeah,” says Buck, “but he met them both as Eddie’s kids, and I have a feeling he never really shook it. I mean they are, obviously, but it’s not – you know how we are about the kids.”

“Believe me, Buck, I know,” says Athena.

“Anyway, even if he’s been listening when I talk about her, I’m not really sure he believes that she’s mine, flesh and blood and dentist’s appointments and all, and not just –“ he waves vaguely. “Not that there is a just. But he thinks there is, you know? Like, Chris is somehow less my son because he’s also Eddie’s, or something.”

“Right,” Athena says. More a prompt to keep talking than anything else.

“He keeps trying to get me to kick Ed out of the house,” Buck confesses, because he was always going to confess. Athena always gets him to talk eventually, with fifteen years of parenting under her belt before she met him and declared him her oldest child. “Or at least, you know, out of bed. And I’m not going to do that.”

“Of course not,” says Athena.

“And it’s like – like, I keep trying to power through this relationship,” says Buck, “because he opened my eyes to some shit I’d been actively avoiding, but also because with everything else that’s fallen to shit lately I just cannot handle another relationship failing on top of it.”

“Sit down,” is Athena’s response to this. She’s settled back onto the couch, and gestures to the cushion next to her. It does look very inviting.

Buck sits down.

“Recognizing that someone isn’t right for you is not failure,” Athena says firmly. She puts one hand on his knee, meeting his eye steadily. “Enjoying a relationship until it’s run its course is not failure. Failure would be seeing all of this – the way you’re feeling right now about him and this relationship – and pushing through it anyway because you’d rather be miserable than single.”

“I’m not miserable,” Buck protests, but it’s weak.

“Don’t try to lie to me, Buck,” says Athena.

“I’m not miserable,” Buck repeats. “But – I don’t think I’m happy, either.”

“Then let it go,” says Athena. “He’s not helping you feel any better, and the last thing you need right now is one more thing weighing you down. You’re allowed to decide it isn’t working before it blows up in your face.”

Buck chuckles. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right,” Athena says, and it’s true.

(Buck knows he’s made the right call when, after he tells Tommy he thinks their relationship has run its course, he rolls his eyes. Says, “I don’t know what else I expected.” Makes a pointed comment about about Buck not being emotionally available, inflexible about stupid things, and “obviously in love with Diaz, anyway.” Which he is, but also, so not the point.)

--

It is not an exaggeration to say that Christopher’s thirteenth birthday is the worst of his life.

He was too little to remember the ones his dad missed when he was in the army, and his memory of the first one without his mom is fuzzy, too. And since then, Dad has always made an effort for it to be good.

But Dad isn’t here, because Chris is in El Paso.

The summer was – fine. He’s still angry with his dad over what he’d done, over bringing that woman into their house, over the fraction of a heartbreaking second where Chris was seven years old again, looking at a ghost. But his grandparents had tried to make it a fun summer, taking him on outings and encouraging him to make friends, and they’d mostly succeeded.

His grandparents had not, at all, tried to help him work things out with his dad. He knows he’s missed like half of his therapy sessions this summer to his grandparents double-booking him.

(He keeps hearing his sister’s voice echoing in his head. Of course Dad wants to fix it. He loves you. Why don’t his grandparents want to fix this? Why were they so happy to whisk him away?)

Chris was mostly grateful not to be forced to talk to Dad any more than he had to, though. He’s angry, still, simmering just below a boil most of the time. His temper’s been running hot and fast. And Buck – Chris gets the distinct impression that his grandparents don’t like Buck very much, which is crazy because they’ve met him like three times ever, so they’re not exactly encouraging him to talk to Buck, either.

Dad and Buck are inseparable, inextricable; Christopher knows, intellectually, that Buck was not involved in what happened last spring, and yet he can’t talk to Buck without the wash of tangled emotions about Dad coming back. Dad messed up, but it’s their parents Chris can’t talk to.

And Marnie isn’t talking to him.

That was the miserable part, honestly. He’d been happy enough to stay angry with his parents, to let it bubble up in his chest when he thought about what happened, but Christopher hasn’t gone this long without talking to his sister since they met. He doesn’t think he’s even gone two days without talking to his sister since they met.

He knows that he was mean to her, that day. Meaner than he should have been, meaner than he meant to to be, when he’d snapped leave me alone and you don’t know anything.

He knows that he hurt her, by leaving. He didn’t mean to hurt Marnie, is the thing.

He’d meant to hurt Dad.

But it’s all the same, it’s all the same, and Chris realized it too late. He hurt Dad on purpose and he hurt Buck and Marnie in the shockwave and he hurt himself almost as much.

Of course he’d want to fix it, he loves you.

Why is Christopher still in fucking Texas?

He keeps telling himself he’s going to ask to go home, but the handful of times he’s started to broach the subject with his grandparents they’ve gotten these pinched, distasteful expressions before he could even get the words out. He keeps telling himself he’s going to ask to go home, but every time he’s on a call with Dad the timing is bad and they barely manage to talk about surface stuff before Grandma is running Chris out the door for his next activity.

Why is Christopher still in Texas?

School started six weeks ago. Chris is enrolled at a school in El Paso, naturally, because he’s still here, and on the first day his homeroom teacher made him stand up and introduce himself, because it’s seventh grade and everyone else has known each other for years.

“My name is Chris Diaz,” he’d said, feeling awkward and on-the-spot. “I’m from LA, and my dads and sister are still there, but I’m living with my grandparents this semester.”

This semester, because he can’t let himself commit to this feeling like a forever thing. He’s mad, but he loves his parents. He loves Marnie. He loves Los Angeles. He’s mad, but he still wants to go home.

Which brings him back to today, Chris’s birthday, which is the saddest, loneliest birthday Chris has ever had.

His birthday party – populated by a mix of his grandparents’ friends’ grandchildren and his second or third cousins and some of his new classmates – started twenty minutes ago. Buck and Dad both texted separately this morning, and Dad said he’d call at some point, but he hasn’t called yet. Grandma’s been really particular about when he calls.

Marnie has not texted or called or anything.

“C’mon, Marn,” Chris says to her voicemail. She got a phone for her birthday over the summer, and she’s using it to ignore him. “It’s my birthday, please, just pick up the phone.” He sighs. “I’ll try you again later, I guess. I love you.”

“Was that your girlfriend?”

Chris startles. He’d stepped away from the party to try Marnie again, and apparently one of his classmates had followed him.

He makes a face, reflexive.

“Gross, no,” says Chris. “My sister. She’s still in LA.”

His classmate – Ryan, his name is Ryan, Chris is almost a hundred percent sure – frowns. “Oh. Sorry, man.”

“S’fine,” Chris says. “It’s all – complicated, anyway. Did you need something?”

Ryan shrugs. “Your grandma was looking for you.”

“Thanks,” Chris says.

Turns out Grandma wants him because Dad is calling now, and she insists that he should take the call out here in the yard so he can see the party. Never mind that Grandma and Grandpa’s wifi is kind of awful even inside the house. Never mind that this would be a bad time even if the connection were reliable.

Never mind that she’s already getting ready to cut the cake when he sits down.

Sure enough, the call is laggy and the image quality is poor. Chris can make out the familiar forms of his dads, though, both obviously wearing those dumb, cone-shaped party hats. Marnie is there, but she doesn’t look happy about it. She isn’t even wearing a hat. She loves those stupid cone hats.

The call freezes, again, and then Grandma calls Chris over for cake.

He wishes he were just home.

“It’s a shame your father felt the need to call during the party,” Grandma says, with no hint of disappointment at all. She’s actually still smiling.

“I thought you said you were going to tell him when to call today,” Chris points out. There is no I thought, not really, because Grandma is always in charge of when Dad is allowed to facetime. Even though she probably shouldn’t be, because her timing is always almost suspiciously poor.

“Hmm?” says Grandma, still smiling. “Why would I do that?”

“You always do,” says Chris.

“Well I’m sure that’s not true,” says Grandma. “I just told him when the party was today, he must have gotten it confused. He’s got so much on his plate right now.”

She and Grandpa keep saying things like that. Dad has so much on his plate. He’s clearly overwhelmed. He’s not in a good place. Chris doesn’t know for himself, because even months later, even now that he’s cooled enough to want to start trying to sort it all out, he’s barely spoken to Dad.

Even now that the homesickness is starting to overwhelm his anger, he’s barely spoken to Dad.

Of course Dad will want to fix it, Marnie said.  He loves you.

Why is Christopher still in Texas?

--

The thing is, despite their current captain being the rare kind of asshole that actually seems to be getting to Buck, the bees were almost fun.

Eddie got to watch Buck in his element for days, sharing fun facts and coming up with plans on the spot. Buck is so fucking smart, and Eddie sees it all the time – how eager he is to learn, how much he retains, how easily and quickly he thinks on the spot – but he knows most people don’t get to see much of it. But Buck and Chris had gone on a whole research binge about bees like a year ago, and it became immediately clear that Buck remembers everything.

So, despite Gerrard, it was fun. (Almost fun.)

The midair plane crash is not fun.

The 118 gets looped in by Dispatch, helping to talk passengers through helping each other with their injuries. Eddie is on the phone with a teenage girl whose friend got clipped by a piece of debris and is bleeding pretty badly, but he’s watching Buck across the room while he talks.

Buck is growing increasingly frantic. He’d been connected with Athena first, at her request, and now has been trying to get ahold of Bobby for as long as everyone else has been on the phone with passengers.

Bobby is on set at Hotshots, today. Eddie knows this with unshakable certainty, because Eddie is currently living in the same house as Bobby. Bobby is a known rule-follower and never carries his phone turned on on set, and he’s not likely to turn it on at random unless he’s expecting a call. There is no fucking way in Hell that Bobby is expecting the phone call his son is trying to reach him with.

So Buck has tried Bobby’s phone a few times, and then switched to the emergency number Bobby gave him for the Hotshots crew for situations precisely like this. Eddie isn’t sure how many times he’s tried that number, but it seems like someone has finally answered it.

“I understand that,” Eddie can hear Buck saying with a kind of forced calm that usually only comes out on bad calls, “but this is an emergency, a real, actual emergency.”

Eddie can see his hands shaking even from across the room.

Eddie’s been pacing a tight loop in front of the TV, but now his feet carry him across to Buck in the kitchen of their own accord. He reaches out with his free hand to catch Buck’s wrist, squeezing tightly.

How can I help? he mouths, maintaining the pressure.

Buck shrugs helplessly.

Eddie’s passenger asks him a question, and he lets go of Buck to explain what she needs to do next. He lets the answer carry him downstairs into the locker room, through rifling through Buck’s locker.

He finds what he’s looking for – a palm-sized stone that Buck had the kids draw on with puffy paint a year or so ago, to have something to run his fingers over when he needs grounding at work – and immediately drops it. “Damn it.”

“What?” his passenger – Leah – says in a high, panicked voice.

“Sorry, sorry, everything’s okay, you’re doing great,” Eddie assures her.

“Is something wrong?” Leah says, still panicky.

“No,” Eddie promises. “No, everything is okay. I just dropped something.”

“Okay,” says Leah, starting to calm down again.

“Is everybody on the phone at the same station?” Leah’s friend, the bleeding one, says woozily.

“Uh, yes,” says Eddie. “Yeah, uh –“ He picks Buck’s rock up from the floor. “They took us offline, so we won’t get called out to any other emergencies, and almost all of us are on the phone with someone helping them like I’m helping you.”

“Almost all of you? Leah echoes.

“My partner is trying to get ahold of his father,” Eddie says, feeling no need to lie about it. Trying to come up with something on the spot would probably stress the kids out as an obvious lie. “Sergeant Grant, who got you all on the phone with us? She’s his mom. That’s how you ended up with our station.”

“Oh,” says bleeding kid – Frankie.

“Is he okay?” says Leah. “Your partner?”

“He’s doing as well as he can be,” Eddie says honestly. “Frankie, bud, how are you feeling?”

“A little better, I guess,” Frankie replies.

Eddie hits the top of the stairs and beelines back to Buck, pressing the stone into his hand. Buck’s eyes go wide and his expression softens, even as he snaps at whoever he’s on the phone with again.

For reasons not explained to Eddie, the plane lands on the highway.

No.

Athena lands the plane on the highway.

After Buck – who’d gone to physically pick Bobby up from the Hotshots set, leading to the two of them apparently stealing one of their production engines – had cleared the highway by commandeering a motorcycle and driving into oncoming traffic. Eddie and Buck are going to have a long conversation about that move later, but right now he’s busy being grateful that Athena got the plane on the ground and nobody died.

Buck comes sprinting back toward their family, those long legs carrying him down the road impossibly fast. He barely slows down before he reaches Athena and scoops her into a feet-off-the-ground hug.

“Mom!” he says, breathless. “You are amazing and incredible and that was terrifying.”

“Put me down, baby,” Athena replies. She sounds pained, and Buck sets her back on her feet immediately, obviously startled. She pats his cheek with one hand. “Thank you. I’m hoping I never have to do it again.”

“Are you hurt?” says Buck, his brow furrowed.

Athena waves him off. “I’m fine.”

“Hen!” Buck says. “Athena’s hurt.”

“Buck,” Athena says, longsuffering, but Hen is already bustling over to check her out.

Eddie can’t deny that it’s a relief to get home that night, after a normal shift that tipped over the line into unlikely degrees of insanity and intensity so quickly that Eddie’s still a little dizzy with it. It’s a relief the next morning to run into Athena in the kitchen over coffee and see her whole and healthy, after everything.

Not a relief is realizing, sharply and suddenly, that in the chaos of the bees and the plane, that the date had managed to completely slip Eddie’s mind.

The fifth anniversary of the LA tsunami is in three days, and Christopher is still in El Paso.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He has to call his parents.

“I don’t have long to talk, honey,” is how his mother picks up the phone.

“That’s fine,” says Eddie. “I just wanted to check in with you about this week.”

“What’s happening this week?” says Helena.

“Wednesday is the anniversary of the tsunami,” Eddie tells her as straightforwardly as he can manage. “We try to take the kids’ lead on how we approach it, year-to-year, so please just listen to what he says he needs. He’s got an extra therapy appointment on Tuesday, and he is allowed to stay home from school Wednesday if he asks.”

“Edmundo, we can’t just be taking him out of school whenever he feels like it,” Helena replies. “What if he gets sick and needs a day?”

“Mom!” Eddie snaps. “This isn’t some random day, do you hear me? This is the fifth anniversary of a natural disaster that almost killed him, and he’s never been alone for it before. I’m his father and I am telling you that he is allowed to have the day if he needs it.”

“Well, there’s no need to pick a fight about it,” says Helena.

“Please make sure he doesn’t miss therapy,” Eddie pleads.

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Helena says.

“We’ll probably call on Wednesday afternoon, maybe earlier,” says Eddie.

“I’ll be sure to let you know when he’s available.”

“I am worried about him, Mom,” Eddie bites out. “He’s never gone through this alone –“

“Well, he’s hardly alone, Eddie,” says Helena.

“You weren’t there!” says Eddie. “You have no idea what it was like.”

“Well, if you hadn’t uprooted his life and moved him to Los Angeles in the first place, he wouldn’t know, either,” Helena replies.

Eddie exhales sharply through his nose. “I’m not doing this right now. I’m not doing this. I only called to make sure you knew what this week is. Don’t let Chris miss therapy.”

And then he hangs up, exhausted.

Tuesday, late, he gets the first text message from Chris that wasn’t a conversation Eddie initiated in months.

Is Marnie okay?

It breaks Eddie’s heart.

He’s known, sort of abstractly, that Marnie is avoiding talking to Chris just as steadfastly as Chris is avoiding talking to Eddie and, by unfortunate extension, Buck. But he was sure she’d respond to him for this.

She’s okay. Eddie responds. Then, Are you?

I’m fine.

That’s the last Eddie hears from him about it. He knows that Chris is texting Buck, though, and that’s what matters.

He wakes up in the early, early hours of Wednesday morning to Marnie wedged between him and Buck in bed. It’s been a long, long time since the kids were little enough to seek them out in the night with any regularity, and at eleven she’s starting to get tall, taking up much more of the bed than she ever used to.

She was so unbelievably tiny when he found her in that tree, bedraggled and scraped, but miraculously alive. Eddie gathers her up, tucking her tighter against his chest, and falls back asleep.

He wakes again a little later in the morning, to Buck sitting up sharply, calling out for Chris.

Eddie reaches out, around Marnie, for his arm.

“He’s okay,” Eddie promises, even though he’s not a hundred percent certain it’s true. He’s whole and healthy and alive, and okay is more separate from that than they’d ever like. “He’s not here, but he’s okay. Do you need to call him?”

“No,” says Buck. “No, I’m – no. He’s okay?”

“He’s okay,” Eddie confirms. “Marnie’s in bed with us.”

Buck glances down, finally settling into his surroundings enough to process her presence. He wilts a little.

“Oh, baby,” Buck murmurs.

“Lay back down,” Eddie says. Buck hesitates, visibly shaky. “C’mon, sweetheart, lay back down.”

Buck blinks a few times, then slowly slides back down the bed. He rolls onto his side, carefully reaching across their daughter to rest his hand on Eddie’s chest. Eddie puts his own hand on top, gently interlacing their fingers. He watches Buck through the golden cloud of Marnie’s curls until he falls asleep.

--

Bobby returns to the 118 in mid-October, in tandem with Mara finally going home to the Wilsons. Aside from the inescapable crush of the tsunami anniversary, it’s an excellent start to October.

It’s at this point – Bobby returning to work properly – that Marnie says something that throws the four adults in the house for a loop.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you, but why don’t you guys go live at Eddie’s house?” She glances over her shoulder at Buck and Eddie, then shrugs. “It’s not like we’re using it.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Eddie says, after a pause. “With Cap coming back to work, living in this house is an awful lot of time with me and Buck. And the other house is – empty.”

“We wouldn’t want to put you out,” Bobby says a bit halfheartedly.

“Bobby,” Buck says. It’s an almost silly protest, in context. If Eddie had been offering the day after the fire, maybe, but not after Bobby and Eddie have been living in the same house – this house – for four months.

“Marnie’s right, we’re not using it,” says Eddie.  “It’s been sitting empty for months. I don’t think we even have anything left in the closet.”

 And the thing is, Buck sees it happen. Sees the way Bobby and Athena’s eyes meet on that we.

Because Marnie’s we is different than Eddie’s we. Marnie’s we is general enough, we meaning all of them, anyone. Eddie’s we, though.

Eddie’s we gives away something that Buck didn’t realize he’d been hiding until this precise moment:

The continuousness is new, but the cohabitation is not.

There has been an Eddie’s house and a Buck’s house, but there has not meaningfully been an Eddie’s room and a Buck’s room in a long time, not really. When Eddie had tried to let Marisol deeper into his life, they’d been shuffling Buck’s clothes in the closet and drawers, more part of the space than anything of Marisol’s would ever be.

Eddie’s we says, shockingly unambiguously, that their lives were already this entwined before Chris left. That the crisis move wasn’t Eddie moving in so much as Buck and Eddie ceasing to flit back and forth between two houses.

“It might be nice to have a bit more space to ourselves,” Athena says. “Just until our house is done.”

“Which could be months, given how indecisive you’re being,” Buck teases.

“Could be,” agrees Athena. “But we’ll happily move back here, or to another apartment, if Eddie decides he wants his house back.”

“I won’t,” Eddie says decisively. “Even whenever Chris comes home, if you need the house still you’re welcome to it.”

So Athena and Bobby move into Eddie’s house, and discover that there are, in fact, a few sweaters left in the closet, but only a few. And most of them are, naturally, Buck’s.

“I’d noticed that the two of you have a very comfortable shared routine,” Bobby says as they move the handful of things he and Athena have accumulated since the fire into the Diaz house, “but I don’t think I realized how comfortable.”

“Bobby,” says Buck.

“You don’t need to share anything with me that you don’t want to, son,” says Bobby.

“There’s nothing to share,” Buck says, a little desperate. “There’s – Eddie’s straight, you know? But we’ve always – we’ve been half-living together since the kids were small. We share everything else, why not share a bed.”

“Is he?” says Bobby.

“What?”

“Straight?” Bobby says.

“What?” says Buck. “Of course he is. He’s never – he’s straight.”

“I only ask because you were straight a year ago,” says Bobby. “Or at least you thought you were.”

Buck opens his mouth. Closes it. “I – no. There’s nothing – going on. Nothing to go on. We just –“

“Coparent,” Bobby finishes. “Move around each other’s houses like they’re your own? Share a life?”

“Bobby,” Buck pleads.

“Fine, fine,” says Bobby. “I just wanted to make sure you remembered that you can tell me things. As your friend – as your parent, even if you’re not ready to tell me as your captain.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” says Buck.

“That’s all I ask,” says Bobby. “I love you, kid.”

“Yeah, Pops,” says Buck. “I love you, too.”

--

At 4PM on Halloween, Buck dislocates his shoulder. Eddie goes with him to the hospital and then takes him home afterward before returning to shift.

At 7:30PM on Halloween, Denny Wilson gets hit by a car. They don’t know what they’re getting into when they get the call, or even when they arrive on scene.

Denny’s in rough shape but there isn’t much Eddie can do to help, so once they get him free enough to work with, he gives Hen and Chim – and Karen – some space. It takes about two seconds for him to find the other kids, perched on the curb.

Marnie’s fluffy pink dress is immediately recognizable, sparkling in the light of the engine and ambulance. She’s talking to Mara, Jee-Yun wedged between them. All three of them are pointedly, intentionally, not looking at the crash.

“Hey, girls,” he says as he approaches.

“Daddy!” Marnie says, her eyes wide and her voice small. For a moment he wonders if he’s misheard her, if she’d called him Eddie like she usually does, but then she says, “Dad, Mara hurt her arm.”

So Eddie doesn’t have time to dwell on the first time his kid has ever called him Dad to his face, because he’s got to clean up and bandage the raw scrape up Mara’s forearm from when she hit the ground after Denny shoved her clear of the car.

“Does anything else hurt?” he asks. Mara shakes her head, silent. “Okay, just make sure you let someone know if that changes, okay?”

Mara nods.

“Is Denny going to be okay?” Marnie asks, hushed.

Eddie glances up at where Hen and Chim are getting him loaded into the ambulance.  “He’s in the best hands in the world right now. You know Hen and Uncle Chim are going to take good care of him.”

“Oh,” says Marnie. She’s old enough, now, to pick up on the subtext: Eddie is refusing to make a promise he can’t keep. But she’s also old enough to do the same for Mara and Jee-Yun, too distracted and too young respectively to pick up on it. “Yeah, of course they will.”

“Hey, come with me,” Eddie says. “We’ve got to figure out what’s gonna happen with you three while Hen and Karen go to the hospital.”

As they stand up, Marnie looks around. “Where’s Dad?”

“He hurt his shoulder,” Eddie says, distracted. “He had to go home early, so I think we’ll probably end up dropping you kids with him.”

Mara frowns. Marnie’s eyes narrow. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Eddie promises, because this he can promise.

“Good,” says Marnie.

Denny is – miraculously – okay in the long run. He’ll have a long recovery, but he will recover. Eddie is sure to mention all of this to Christopher, when they talk, to make sure he knows that his friend is alright but to encourage him to check in. He thinks Chris has been talking to Denny this whole time anyway, but it doesn’t hurt to remind him.

Chris still hasn’t said anything about wanting to come home.

Eddie can’t help feeling like he’s ruined both of his kids’ lives – months later, Chris is still in Texas and barely speaking to him, and Marnie is still having more trouble than Eddie’s ever seen with regulating or articulating her emotions. They aren’t talking to each other, which is utterly unheard of. Eddie has never seen the kids fight before, not seriously – they’ll bicker, because they’re two years apart in age and one year apart at school and they love each other but they don’t actually agree on everything, but they don’t really fight. And now they are, now they have been for months, and it’s Eddie’s fucking fault.

He ends up going to Confession about it, around the time that his mom basically laughs him off the phone when he suggests Chris might want to come home for Thanksgiving. Which, by the way, she has not once pestered him about coming “home” for, which says a lot about why she was always such a pain in the ass about it.

He lays the whole thing out for the priest, the one Bobby is friends with and pointed him in the direction of with a furrow in his brow at the question, who seems more than a little bit stunned. He gets a disjointed penance for his troubles – most of a Rosary, but not quite the whole thing? – and leaves feeling just as overwhelmed and guilty as he’d arrived.

The next day, Eddie stops at a juice bar after his run and then second guesses the juice he’d picked up and finds himself getting analyzed on the spot by the same fucking priest.

Father Brian insists that Eddie is denying himself joy, by continuing to stew in his guilt.

“I thought guilt was our whole shtick, as Catholics,” Eddie points out.

Brian levels an unimpressed look across the table at him. “That’s cultural. Love is what’s in the book.”

“If you say so,” says Eddie.

“Give yourself some slack – and some love,” says Brian. “How old did you say your kids are?”

“Thirteen and eleven,” Eddie says. “The thirteen-year-old’s the one who’s probably never coming home, and the eleven-year-old is the one who’ll never forgive me if that happens.”

“It’s commendable that you and your partner have raised your children in an environment where they feel safe expressing when they’re angry with you,” says Brian.

“Sure,” says Eddie.

“But it seems important to remember that this isn’t something that you’ve done, to either of them,” Brian points out. “From everything that you’ve told me, it seems like the only fault you had in all of this was chasing this ghost in the first place – she came to your home uninvited, and your son reacted. You did what you could to handle that reaction, and your daughter reacted.”

“I’m their parent,” says Eddie. “It’s my job to keep it together. To protect them.”

“To protect them, certainly,” says Brian. “But after all this time, the guilt you seem to be carrying isn’t helping anyone. Not you, and certainly not them.”

“I don’t know how to let go of it,” Eddie admits. “Not while everything is such a mess and it’s all my fault. At least indirectly.”

Brian sighs. “Do me a favor, Eddie. Call it your penance if you want to, but do this for me: let yourself feel some joy today. You don’t have to shake all of the guilt that’s weighing you down, just let yourself set it down for a moment. Do something that makes you happy, even if you don’t think you deserve it.”

“I’ll try,” says Eddie.

--

There’s a day about a week and a half before Thanksgiving when Buck comes home and gets swept into a tight hug by Eddie.

“Hey, you,” Buck says, melting automatically into the hug. He tucks his face against Eddie’s neck for a moment. “Everything okay?”

“A priest told me to let myself feel joy,” Eddie mumbles into Buck’s sleeve.

“I’m sorry, what?” Buck replies with startled amusement.

“You heard me,” says Eddie.

“And this is what you decided to do with that?”

“This is what I decided to do.”

Eddie squeezes him a little tighter for a moment before letting go, stepping back.

“Everything is kind of a mess right now,” Eddie says. “But you make me happy. Being with you makes me happy. And I don’t think we hug enough.”

“We share a bed,” Buck points out, even though they don’t usually cuddle at night.

“Buck,” says Eddie.

“Hey, if it’ll make you happy, I’ll hug you whenever you feel like it,” says Buck. He tries not to look too hard at the fuzzy warmth that thought sends through him.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Eddie says.

So they’ve been hugging more, lately. Buck can’t deny that it’s been nice, because he loves Eddie and loves having him close, but also because Thanksgiving is fucking hard. Chris isn’t home, which they’re both feeling kind of miserable about. Marnie is snappy and on edge.

But then they’ll catch each other in a hug and it’ll be okay, just for a minute. Just a little bubble of joy – or at least comfort.

And then, in the first week of December, Buck catches Eddie looking at house listings. In El Paso.

“I can’t keep missing out on his life, Buck,” Eddie says.

“I’ll help you look,” Buck replies over the cracking of his own heart.

Marnie takes the news that Eddie is thinking about moving… badly.

Which is to say that she has a meltdown on a scale they haven’t seen from her in years, which ends with storming out of the room and slamming her bedroom door like the teenager she’ll be in the blink of an eye.

Eddie watches her go, tears in his eyes. Buck reaches out, catches him by the wrist, and Eddie just collapses against him. He’s shaking with not-quite-sobs, and all Buck can do is hold him together.

“Now they’ll both hate me,” Eddie says into the fabric of Buck’s shirt.

“Neither of them hates you,” Buck says, skating one hand up and down Eddie’s spine.

“Chris is still barely talking to me,” says Eddie. “And I can’t get him to talk to me from two states away. But if I do move to be closer to him, Marnie might never speak to me again.”

“Okay, first of all, that isn’t true,” says Buck. “They love you, even when they’re pissed off.”

“The worst part is that Marnie is right,” says Eddie. “She’s right! Why did I let him go? When there were other people who could and would have given him space without cutting us off from each other? What was I thinking?”

“You were overwhelmed,” Buck reminds him. “And your parents basically guilted you into it. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s mine to fix,” Eddie says, so softly that Buck really only hears it because it’s breathed into his collar.

“We’ll figure it out, Ed,” Buck says. “I promise.”

--

Two days after Marnie’s meltdown, Christopher calls Eddie and asks to come home.

Actually, what he says is:

“Are you crazy, do not buy a house in Texas! I’m still mad at you, but I don’t want to be stuck here forever.”

And then:

“I think Grandma and Grandpa want me to stay mad at you.”

And:

“I miss you.”

So Eddie says, “When do you want to come home?”

And they start making a plan to get Chris home in time for Christmas.

The hardest part, naturally, is explaining it to Eddie’s parents.

“I just don’t think that you should be taking him away when you’re still having screaming fights,” Helena says. “Now, when you were planning to move here, that was a different thing, because you could’ve been nearby without uprooting him, but –“

“Fights?” Eddie echoes, startled. “Mom, Chris and I haven’t fought about this at all. That was why I wanted to move; I didn’t feel like we could work through it two states apart.”

“Don’t lie to me, Edmundo,” says Helena. “I know what I heard. You’re the only person he’d be yelling at about this.”

“Actually,” Eddie replies without thinking, “that would be his sister. And frankly, I’ll take them yelling at each other if it means they’re actually talking.”

Helena scoffs. “Unless you’ve been hiding more mistakes than I thought, Christopher does not have a sister.”

“What?” says Eddie. “Mom. Marnie. You’ve met her!”

“Who?”

“Marnie,” Eddie repeats. “The other kid who was here when you took Chris away.”

“Your friend’s rude little girl is not Christopher’s sister,” says Helena.

“My partner and coparent’s daughter is absolutely Christopher’s sister,” Eddie says firmly. “We’ve been raising them together almost as long as we’ve lived in LA.”

“Eddie,” Helena says, disappointed bordering scolding.

“Please, please, tell Chris that Marnie isn’t his sister,” Eddie says. “I think he might walk to LA himself. The kids take it really seriously.”

“If anything, this is another reason for him to stay here,” says Helena. “Clearly you’re bringing him up in a confusing situation there –“

“He’s not confused, Mom,” Eddie says, calm. “Buck and Marnie have been the steadiest constant of our lives since we moved here. Even when other stuff was a mess, there’s no confusion with them.”

“That doesn’t make her his sister,” Helena says. “It certainly doesn’t make your friend your coparent.”

“It does, though,” says Eddie. “Raising our kids together, sharing a life together, it does make us a family. Because we love each other like a family, and we’re invested in each other’s wellbeing like a family.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, glancing back toward the house. He’s in the yard, mostly for space to pace circles without getting in Buck or Marnie’s way.

“You know, this is the first time I’ve ever seen the kids fight?” Eddie says, largely rhetorically. “They’ve always bickered a bit, but never a huge blowout like this. Marnie’s been mad because he ran away instead of staying at home and working through it with us.”

“All the more reason –“

“You know, when Chris first left, she told me that the reason he called you at all was that if he’d called Buck, his other dad, he would have wanted to fix the situation,” Eddie plows on. “He would have wanted to help him sort through it, to work it out with me. And he didn’t want it fixed. He wanted to be mad. So he called you, and now he’s been in Texas for almost six months, and you’re fighting me when he asked to come home.”

“What, so you’re gay now, too?” Helena says.

“I don’t know, probably!” Eddie says, feeling a little hysterical. “That’s so beside the point, Mom. The point is that I trusted you to try to help my kid, when the only reason he called you was that he knew that you wouldn’t. Because you’ve always wanted to take him for yourself, for some kind of do-over. And it’s not happening. I’m his dad, and I am telling you that it’s time for my kid to come home.”

“At least let him stay through Christmas,” says Helena. “You wouldn’t want him to miss the holiday, would you?”

“Of course not, Mom,” says Eddie. “That’s why I’m picking him up the day his semester ends. So he won’t miss another holiday with his family.”

--

Eddie goes out to pick up Christopher about a week before Christmas, in the end. Marnie is beside herself for the full eighteenish hours that he’s gone.

“What if he changes his mind?” She’s buzzing, moving with a constant, shifting energy that Buck can’t keep up with. He usually could, he supposes, but they’ve hit one of the first cold days of the winter and his bad knee is fighting him. “What if he decides while he’s there that he does want to live in stupid Texas and never see us again?”

Buck is not worried about this for two reasons: one, he knows that Eddie was thinking about moving with a kind of resignation that you usually see in people who know they’re about to die, and two, he talked to Christopher on the phone yesterday morning and he sounded genuinely relieved to be coming home. And even if he were, he wouldn’t tell Marnie; she’s panicked enough without his help.

“Peanut,” Buck says, waving her over. “C’mere, sit. I can’t walk with you today.” Marnie sighs, but does flop onto the couch next to him, curling her little legs up tight to her chest. “They are not going to stay in Texas. Neither of them is happy in El Paso, and they are both excited to have our family all together for Christmas. Eddie texted me twenty minutes ago to say that they were about to board the plane. They’re coming home, Chris is coming home.”

Marnie opens and closes her hands a few times, watching the movements of her fingers. “I just. I miss Chris. A lot. But I have been so mad at him. And I’m afraid – what if I don’t know how to not be mad anymore?”

“Oh, baby,” Buck says, pulling her close. “This has been a hard year, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” says Marnie.

“And I think we’re all going to have a lot to talk through, once Chris gets home,” says Buck. “But I think you know how, baby. You love him so much, even when you’re mad, and once you’re talking to each other again, I think it’ll be easy.”

Marnie sits tucked against Buck as long as she can stand to, before she has to get up and move some more to shake out the anxiety. Buck can’t blame her, as he runs his fingers back and forth over the seam of the couch for the same reason.

And then, before Buck knows it, there’s a key in the door.

“Marnie!” Christopher calls.

And for all that Marnie has been fretting about being too mad, about not knowing how to be happy that he’s home, she lights up.

God, Chris has gotten fucking tall. He hit a growth spurt in Texas and is probably almost four inches taller than when he left, so even though Marnie has grown, too, she looks so much smaller than him as she weaves with practiced ease into his arms.

Buck has tears in his eyes as he watches the kids hug tight, tight, tight. Marnie’s shoulders are visibly shaking.

“Hey, hey,” Chris murmurs, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Marn.”

“You’re so stupid,” Marnie sobs into his shoulder.

Chris laughs. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I love you,” she says. “I’m sorry I ignored you.”

“It’s okay,” says Chris. “I’m home, now.”

Buck looks up at Eddie, then. He’s meaning to gauge Eddie’s reaction to how firmly Chris called LA home, but what he gets instead is a view of the softest, sappiest expression Buck has ever seen on his best friend’s face. He’s watching the kids with this sweet little smile, eyes a little glassy, his whole posture relaxed and comfortable and happy.

Buck hasn’t seen Eddie look this happy in months.

And then Eddie looks up at Buck, too. That same sweet, incandescently happy expression is turned on Buck, and he honestly feels like the weight of it might bowl him over. He doesn’t know what to do with that fond, gentle smile. With the light fully back in Eddie’s eyes, locked on his own.

God, how did Buck take so long to figure out he was in love with him? Has it always been this obvious?

Can Eddie tell, right now?

He meets Eddie’s eye, matches his smile. Because he’s happy too; their family is all together and the kids are squeezing all of the air out of each other and they’ll all be together for Christmas. They’ll all be together for a while, because Bobby and Athena’s house isn’t finished and there’s no reason for Eddie and Chris to kick them out of the Diaz house when they have perfectly serviceable beds in Buck’s place anyway.

And, impossibly, Eddie brightens even more.

Maybe Eddie can tell that Buck’s in love with him. But maybe, maybe, Buck is starting to think that that might not be such a bad thing.