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ONE
“‘Lo,” Buck rubs the sleep from his eyes as he answers the phone with shaky fingers. It’s been ringing non-stop for a few minutes, finally rousing him from what was a great, deep sleep. He usually keeps his phone on Do Not Disturb, and the only people who can break through are Maddie, Chris, Bobby, and Eddie. So, of course, he’s a little more than concerned.
He’d glanced at the caller ID earlier but didn’t recognize the number. Figured maybe he’d forgotten to turn the setting on before bed and tried to ignore it. But the damn thing just kept ringing, buzzing so violently it knocked itself off his nightstand and hit the floor with a thud.
So he answered. And thank god he did, because the moment he murmurs his sleepy hello, he hears Eddie’s voice.
“Buuuuuuck! ”
It’s loud, too loud for nearly 2am. Buck pulls the phone back a few inches from his ear, Eddie’s slurring, sing-songy tone practically vibrating through the speaker.
“Are you drunk?” Buck asks, already halfway dreading the answer.
“Oh yeah, he’s hammered,” a second voice chimes in, someone Buck doesn’t recognize. This guy’s quieter, a little more put together, but still clearly tipsy. “Sorry, dude. He told us to ‘call Buck,’ but I couldn’t find his phone. At least lover boy here knows your number by heart, huh?”
Buck stills for a beat, heart hitching in his chest. Lover boy.
There’s a rough laugh on the other end, like the guy doesn’t realize what he just said. Like it’s just a joke. Buck exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face. It’s too early, or late, for this.
“It’s 2am, man,” he mutters, but he’s already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll be there as fast as I can. Uh–thank you.”
“You must’ve done a number on him,” the guy adds, voice fainter now. “He’s been trying to order another round but keeps mumbling your name. Whatever you guys fought about… doesn’t seem worth it.”
Buck blinks down at the phone, fingers tightening around it. “Yeah,” he says, quiet. “Thanks.”
It doesn’t hit him until he’s halfway to the bar, speeding through yellow lights and deserted streets, that the guy thinks he and Eddie are a couple. That Eddie is drowning himself in tequila at some dive bar over a fight with him . His gut churns at the idea, and he tries to push the feelings down. Now wasn’t the time to be dealing with his inconvenient “more than friends” feelings that he’s been coming to terms with in his relationship with Eddie.
When he pulls up to the curb outside of the bar, there’s a guy standing out front, arms slung under Eddie’s shoulders. He’s doing his best to prop Eddie upright, which clearly isn’t working that well considering the guy looks like he isn’t even 5’6” and his arms are the size of twigs. Up against 6 foot, fit, Eddie Diaz, the guy looks like he’s struggling to keep them both standing. Buck jumps out of the Jeep and catches his best friend as he stumbles forward with a dopey grin.
“Buckkkk ,” Eddie slurs, clinging to him like gravity stopped working. “You came.”
Buck offers the guy a tight smile and a five-dollar bill for his trouble, then gently shoves Eddie into the passenger seat. He buckles him in, then rounds the car and slides behind the wheel.
“Home,” Eddie mutters, eyes half-lidded. “I wanna go home.”
“No,” Buck sighs. “You’re coming back to the loft. You can’t be alone like this.”
Eddie groans but doesn’t fight it. His head lolls against the window, and he hums under his breath. Buck keeps one eye on the road and one on him, half-expecting him to hurl at any second.
A few minutes pass in silence, broken only by the soft whir of the heater and Eddie’s increasingly incoherent mumbling.
Then Eddie says, voice suddenly lucid and sharp in the stillness, “You know I love you, right?”
Buck’s grip on the steering wheel tightens.
“What?”
“You,” Eddie says again, smiling in that loose, drunken way, eyes still closed. “I love you.”
Buck swallows. His throat feels dry. “You’re wasted, man.”
“I know,” Eddie sighs. “But I do. Always do.”
Buck doesn’t say anything. He can’t. Because his heart is doing this wild, reckless thing in his chest, and he doesn’t know what to believe.
They don’t talk again until they’re back at the loft. Eddie’s out cold before Buck even finishes tucking a blanket over him on the couch.
In the morning, Eddie doesn’t remember a thing.
TWO
The party wasn’t wild by any means. Maddie and Chim had invited the whole team over to celebrate the baby sleeping through the night two days in a row, which Buck thought was a bit of a stretch as far as excuses went, but Maddie was glowing, Chim was beaming, and Hen had brought tequila. So no one really complained, just excited to be able to hang out and relax all together.
Buck kept to beer, nursing one for most of the evening. Meanwhile, Eddie was well on his way to wasted, having downed three beers in less than an hour and then switching over the tequila shots when Karen had dragged him into her orbit. He was in a good mood, all flushed cheeks and that familiar loose grin that Buck had only seen a few times, usually post-rescue adrenaline or during backyard barbecues when Chris was staying with Abuela and there were no curfews to worry about.
It was nice. Really nice. Until it wasn’t…
The party was winding down. Hen and Karen had left already, and Chim was half-asleep on the couch with the baby monitor cradled to his chest. Maddie was picking up empty glasses in the kitchen. And Buck?
Buck was trying to get Eddie to stand upright long enough to make it out the front door.
“Okay, buddy,” Buck said, one arm hooked around Eddie’s waist. “Let’s get you home.”
Eddie leaned into him with his full weight, blinking slow and soft, his body warm and pliant against Buck’s. “You smell good,” he said. “Like...like soap and pine trees.”
Buck huffed a laugh. “Sure. Let’s get you to the car.”
But Eddie didn’t budge. Instead, he took Buck’s face in both hands, cheeks squished between calloused palms. “Why aren’t we already married?”
Buck froze. “What?”
“Seriously,” Eddie mumbled, swaying. “You’re nice. You make pancakes. You’re good with Chris. I wanna kiss you so bad.”
There was no room to respond because Eddie leaned in , eyes fluttering shut like a rom-com in slow motion. Buck ducked his head just in time.
“Whoa—nope, nope. Let’s not do that here.”
Eddie’s lips brushed Buck’s cheek instead, warm and slightly damp, and then he kind of collapsed forward with a little sigh. “You dodged me.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’d treat you so good,” Eddie whispered, a little whine to his voice.
Buck didn’t answer. Just wrapped his arms tighter around him and steered him toward the door.
—
The ride back to Eddie’s place was quiet, save for the soft buzz of the radio and the occasional hum from the passenger seat. Eddie kept dozing off with his head tilted toward the window, then snapping back up with a mumble that sounded like Buck’s name. It was much like the other times that Buck had driven a drunk Eddie home, save for the fact that Buck was still reeling a bit from the almost kiss in Maddie’s dark hallway.
When they finally pulled into the driveway, Buck cut the engine and glanced over at him. “Hey. You want me to walk you in?”
Eddie nodded sleepily, eyes half-lidded. “You always take care of me.”
“That’s what friends do.”
He helped Eddie up the two steps at the front porch and fumbled the keys from his own pocket when Eddie couldn't get his set into the lock. Inside, he guided him to the couch and pulled off his shoes, then grabbed the folded throw blanket from the back of the armrest and covered him carefully. He wasn’t going to even try to get him into the bedroom, not when his best friend was still being a little more… handsy than normal.
Eddie looked up at him through bleary eyes. “Stay.”
“I’ll come back in the morning,” Buck said, using every little piece of self control he had.
“You could stay,” Eddie said again, more insistent now. “In the bed. You don’t have to do anything. Just… be there.”
Buck hesitated. His hand hovered above the blanket for a second before he gently smoothed it down. “Get some sleep, Eddie.”
Eddie sighed and closed his eyes. “You’d be the best husband.”
Buck left the room quietly, but his chest ached all the way home.
—
The next morning, Buck woke to a text:
Thanks for being my DD last night. Hope I wasn’t too much of a pain. I don’t remember much after the tequila.
Buck stared at the message, thumb hovering. He thought about the almost-kiss. The too-honest words. The soft, sleepy voice saying, I’d still treat you good.
Then he typed back:
You were fine. Get some greasy food and hydrate.
He left it at that. If Eddie didn’t remember, he wasn’t going to remind him.
THREE
They hadn’t planned on staying long.
Buck had shown up at Eddie’s door around 8 with two things, a text saying Let’s get a drink and the exhausted kind of smile that made Eddie put on shoes before asking why. They were both off shift, Eddie was free of kid-duty for once, and sometimes that felt rare enough to deserve the ability to drink a ton of whiskey.
The bar wasn’t crowded. Just loud enough to give them space, dim enough to feel like they didn’t have to fill every silence. Buck liked bars like that. They were comfortable and familiar, a little bit relaxing even. He’d only had one drink, maybe two, nursing them slowly while Eddie went straight to beer and didn’t slow down much after that. That was becoming a more normal thing these days.
And now, Buck was leaning against the bar, waiting for water ( just water) , because he’d caught the shine in Eddie’s eyes and knew that if one of them didn’t stay sober-ish, they might not make it home tonight.
“Thanks,” he nodded to the bartender as the glass hit the wood, then turned around–and froze.
Eddie was no more than ten feet away. Standing stiff in the corner, and staring at Buck. No, not staring at him. Staring at the woman Buck had just been talking to—briefly, about the jukebox, some shared taste in Springsteen or whatever—and his jaw was tight. Shoulders squared like he was ready to take a swing.
Buck raised an eyebrow and crossed the space between them. “Hey. You good?”
Eddie didn’t answer right away. Just looked past Buck to the bar, then down to his half-empty beer like it had betrayed him.
“I saw you smiling,” Eddie muttered, barely above the music. “You don’t smile at me like that.”
Buck blinked. “What?”
“You were smiling,” Eddie said again, more stubborn than sharp now. “Like you were gonna ask for her number.”
“I was talking about Bruce Springsteen.”
“She touched your arm.”
“She touched my–Eddie, are you seriously jealous right now?”
Eddie looked up at him. His face was flushed, the kind of warmth that came from three beers too many and whatever Eddie was going through that he felt he couldn’t share with Buck that was making him get sloppy drunk whenever they were out together.
“You’re supposed to be mine.”
The words were soft. Matter-of-fact. Like he was stating the time, or the weather. It made Buck’s heart stutter a bit in his chest. He searched Eddie’s face for any trace of a joke. But there wasn’t one. Just wide, glassy eyes and something too raw to name sitting heavy between them.
“Eds…”
Eddie shook his head, suddenly looking away. “Forget it.”
Buck exhaled, long and slow. He touched Eddie’s elbow gently, nudged him toward the door. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
—
The car ride was quiet. Again.
Eddie was slumped low in the passenger seat, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, chin tucked down like he didn’t want to be seen. Buck kept glancing over at him, at the tired set of his mouth, the furrow that hadn’t left his brow since they left the bar.
Halfway home, Eddie spoke. Barely a whisper.
“I don’t know what to do with it.”
Buck glanced over again, confused. “With what?”
“This… feeling. You. I try not to feel it and I do anyway.”
Buck didn’t know how to respond to that. So he just gripped the wheel tighter and kept driving until he could get Eddie home.
He walked him to the couch and got him a glass of water, some Advil, and a blanket. It had become routine almost, normal. In some ways it made Buck sad, worried. In others, just confused.
“Thanks,” Eddie murmured, curling up and refusing to meet Buck’s eyes.
“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?” Buck said quietly.
Eddie didn’t answer, already asleep.
In the morning, he awoke to Eddie groaning before he rushed to the bathroom, retching into the toilet and exclaiming that he was never drinking that much again.
“Half the time I don’t even remember these nights, man. Maybe we should just stop drinking or something.”
Buck could only nod, pretending that everything was fine.
FOUR
The call comes just after midnight.
Buck’s already in bed, the lights out, a book still open on his chest. He hasn’t been reading for a while now, his mind kept drifting, looping over the last call they’d worked. A pile-up on the 405, too many cars and not enough space, metal twisted like ribbon. And Eddie had gone down hard when the back end of a pickup gave way. He only knocked his head, nothing serious, or at least that’s what Hen said. Chim had stayed behind to ride with him to the ER, and Buck had force himself not to follow.
Now, his phone buzzes. Eddie’s name lights up the screen and he answers in a heartbeat.
“Eddie? You okay?”
There’s a pause, then the unmistakable shuffle of fingers fumbling with a speaker.
“Buck! ” Eddie’s voice is a little too loud. A little too cheerful. “They gave me the good stuff.”
Buck exhales and lets himself sink back into the pillows. “Jesus, man. You scared the hell out of me.”
“They said I’m concussed,” Eddie says brightly, like it’s a prize he just won. “Which explains so much, don’t you think?”
Buck smiles despite himself. “Are you alone?”
“Nah. Chim’s getting coffee. He told me not to call you, but I missed you.” A pause. “Didn’t hit my dialing thumb, thank god.”
“Yeah,” Buck murmurs. “Good thing. Your dialing thumb is essential.”
Eddie full on giggles. Giggles . It’s ridiculous, and Buck shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he is.
“I love you,” he says suddenly, like it’s just occurred to him.
Buck freezes.
“What?”
Eddie sighs, soft and syrupy. “You’re just–you’re always there. You’re the only one I want to call.”
“You’re on medication, Eds.”
“I know,” Eddie says. “That’s why I’m saying it now. ‘Cause I won’t say it later. I’m a coward when I’m sober. I don’t tell you things, I’m scared.”
There’s a noise in the background,maybe a nurse, or maybe Chimney coming back, and Eddie drops his voice to a murmur. “If I don’t make it… tell Chris I love him. And tell him I loved you too. A lot.”
Buck shuts his eyes. “Don’t say that. You’re fine.” and he knows that Eddie is. But, hearing him talk like that, it’s still terrifying.
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re fine ,” Buck says again, voice firmer now. “You’re gonna wake up tomorrow and not remember this, and I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear it. So just–hang up, okay?. Sleep it off.”
A beat.
“I really do love you.”
Then the line goes quiet.
—
Buck drives over the next morning with bagels and coffee and walks into Eddie’s room like nothing had happened.
Eddie’s sitting up in bed, hair messy, a bandage above his eyebrow. Chim’s on the far side of the room reading something on his phone.
“Look who finally decided to show,” Chim says, smirking. “He’s fine. Been whining about hospital oatmeal for twenty minutes.”
Buck hands Eddie a coffee and watches him closely. Waits for some kind of flicker whether it was recognition or discomfort. Maybe he was just hoping something would finally stick.
But all Eddie says is, “You didn’t have to come.”
And then, looking up through his lashes, “Thanks.”
That’s it. No mention of the phone call at all.
Buck forces a smile. “Don’t mention it.”
FIVE
Buck isn’t expecting anyone. It’s past midnight. He’s in sweats, hair damp from a shower, and halfway through reheating leftover Thai when the buzzer goes off. At first, he thinks he imagined it. But then it buzzes again, longer this time.
He pads barefoot to the intercom. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Eddie. His voice is slurred, but not like the other times. It’s slower. Tired. More sad than drunk.
Buck buzzes him in.
By the time Eddie knocks on the front door, Buck’s already waiting there. He opens it to find him standing there in jeans and a hoodie, shoulders hunched and eyes glassy.
“Hey,” Eddie says. “I was walking. Ended up here.”
Buck doesn’t ask how far he walked or why he didn’t call. He just steps aside and lets him in.
The loft is quiet, just the hum of the microwave still running in the kitchen.
“You want water?” Buck asks, keeping his voice soft.
Eddie shakes his head. “No. I don’t want anything.”
He looks like he means it. His hands are tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie, his whole body drawn in tight, like he’s afraid to take up space.
“You okay?”
Eddie shrugs, then lets out a breath that’s more like a laugh. “I saw this couple tonight. Just… kissing on a bench. Normal. Happy.”
Buck waits.
“I couldn’t stop staring,” Eddie says. “Like it was something from a movie. That can’t be real, they can’t be that happy.”
Buck doesn’t know what to say to that.
“I keep doing this,” Eddie mutters, finally looking at him. “Getting drunk, showing up. Saying shit I don’t mean to say.”
“You mean it,” Buck says before he can stop himself. “You just don’t remember it.”
“Yeah.”
Buck rubs a hand over his face, then gestures toward the couch. “Come sit down.”
But Eddie doesn’t move. “Can I stay here tonight?”
“You don’t have to ask.”
“I do,” Eddie says. “I always do.”
There’s a beat of silence. The microwave beeps in the background, but neither of them moves.
Then Eddie says, voice small, “I don’t know how to do this, Buck.”
“Do what?”
“Be honest,” he whispers. “Be… with you.”
Buck’s breath catches. He wants to reach out, wants to pull Eddie in and tell him it’s okay, that he doesn’t have to know how, that they can figure it out together. But instead, he just nods.
“Stay,” Buck says. “Just stay.”
He knows he’ll regret it in the morning when he’s the only one who remembers. But, he leads Eddie to his bed and lies him down. He curls onto his side, facing the window and Buck lies beside him. He doesn’t touch, just…lies there, listening to the way that Eddie breathes, wishing that one day maybe they’d be able to talk about it, be able to look at their relationship in a more realistic way without it killing him.
“I mean it,” Eddie murmurs, somewhere between sleep and something deeper. “Every time.”
Buck closes his eyes. “I know.”
—
In the morning, Eddie wakes up and says nothing.
He thanks Buck for letting him crash. Says he had a rough night, and that it won’t happen again. Tell Buck that he appreciates having such a great friend who will take care of his drunk ass even when he doesn’t deserve it.
And Buck lies, like he always does.
“Don’t worry about it. You don’t do anything that bad.”
PLUS 1
It’s a Thursday. Nothing remarkable about it. No calls that shook them, no shared brushes with death, no full moons or near-misses or tequila to blame. Just a regular every day Thursday.
They finish their shift around 6pm. The sun is still up, the air warm in that early-evening way that makes LA feel like it’s the most peaceful place in the world. Buck offers to drop Eddie off, and Eddie says, “Come in for a bit?” like he’s asking for a favor, instead of company.
Chris is still at his friends house, having successfully argued for another sleepover since it was about to be a 4 day weekend. So, the house was abandoned and quiet, Eddie obviously not wanting to go into it by himself.
They sit on the couch with beers they’re not drinking. The basketball game is on, but muted, both of them only half watching the screen. Buck has one eye on the game, but another on Eddie, watching as he taps on his thigh and looks like he wants to say something, but keeps not allowing the words out. It’s been clear he’s had something on his mind since they got in the car, and Buck’s just been waiting to finally figure it all out.
He finally speaks ten minutes later.
“I remember every time.”
Buck turns to look at him, not really putting the pieces together. “What?”
“All those nights,” Eddie says, voice quiet but still clear. “You know… the uh– the calls. At the bar and your apartment… I uh–I remember every time.”
Buck blinks. “You said you didn’t.”
“I lied.” Eddie finally looks over at him, eyes steady. “I wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant.”
“And now?”
“I’m ready.” A beat. “I’m scared, but I’m–I’m ready.”
Buck swallows hard. “So what are you saying?”
“I love you,” Eddie says. No hesitation this time. No slur, no blur of too much beer or not enough sleep. Just the truth.
“I loved you when I was too drunk to stand. I loved you when I was bleeding in a hospital bed. I loved you when I showed up at your door because I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”
Buck is still, barely breathing as his best friend pours his heart out on the couch, warm beers in hand and a shitty basketball game playing out in front of them.
“I love you now,” Eddie finishes. “And I’m not taking it back this time.”
Buck lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for months. And maybe he has.
“Say something,” Eddie says, softer now. “ Please.”
Buck turns toward him fully. His voice comes out low, a little wrecked. “I thought–I–I didn’t you’d ever–”
“I know. That’s my fault.”
There’s a long pause. It’s not awkward but it isn’t the same comfortable that it normally is between them. Then Buck shifts forward, closes the space between them, and kisses him.
It’s not rushed or desperate like Buck thinks it could be between them. He slows himself down. Because although he’s been waiting for this for months, if not years, he wants to savor this. This will be their last first kiss, if he has anything to say about it, and he wants it to be perfect. So, he presses their lips together gently. It’s grounding, steady. Like something they’ve both lived through thousands of times over in their dreams, but are finally letting it live between them.
When they part, Eddie’s hand lingers at Buck’s jaw. Buck leans into it, smiling softly.
“You’re really gonna let me love you?” Eddie whispers, thumb brushing over his cheekbone.
Buck presses their foreheads together. “I’ve been waiting for you to remember.”