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It wasn’t supposed to be a big night. Just a few drinks, some wings, and maybe a round of pool before heading home to crash.
Except Eddie had bailed at the last minute.
“Chris has a sleepover,” Eddie had said over the phone, voice warm and apologetic. “Can we do it another night, Buck?”
Buck had said sure. Of course. No big deal. Because it wasn’t like he missed Eddie or anything. It wasn’t like he’d been looking forward to just sitting next to him at a bar, laughing about whatever ridiculous call they’d had that day.
Except he did. And now he was sitting across from Ravi, who looked both amused and mildly exasperated.
“Man,” Ravi said, nursing his beer. “You’ve said ‘Eddie’ like… twenty times since we got here.”
Buck frowned, a little defensive. “That’s not true.”
“Okay,” Ravi deadpanned. “Seventeen.”
Buck slumped back in his seat. “He just—he’s been busy lately, you know? With Chris, with… life. I don’t know. We haven’t hung out much.”
Ravi tilted his head, that knowing expression crossing his face. “You miss him.”
Buck opened his mouth, then shut it. “He’s my best friend. Of course I miss him.”
Ravi sighed dramatically. “Dude. You sound like a guy whose boyfriend is out of town, not a coworker whose buddy skipped happy hour.”
Buck laughed weakly, but there was a truth in there that stung. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Yeah,” Ravi muttered. “Which makes this worse.”
Before Buck could argue, Ravi’s attention shifted toward the bar. “Okay,” he said, straightening. “You need a distraction. Look—her.”
Buck followed his gaze. A brunette, early thirties maybe, leaning against the bar with an easy smile. She caught Buck’s eye and grinned before turning back to her drink.
“She’s cute,” Ravi said. “And she’s been looking over here every two minutes.”
Buck blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. Go talk to her.”
“I don’t—”
“Go,” Ravi insisted, already waving down the bartender. “You’re buying her next round. And maybe you’ll finally shut up about Eddie.”
Buck threw him a look but got up anyway. The woman smiled when he approached.
“Hi,” she said, voice smooth and confident. “Your friend sent you over, didn’t he?”
Buck rubbed the back of his neck. “Was it that obvious?”
“Just a little.” She laughed, bright and genuine. “I’m Tessa.”
“Buck.”
They talked. And it was easy—fun, even. She was quick-witted and flirty without being pushy, and Buck found himself laughing more than he had in weeks. She asked about his job, his friends, his favorite movies. He told her about Eddie and Chris before catching himself, feeling ridiculous.
She just smiled knowingly. “Sounds like you care a lot about them.”
He shrugged, trying not to overthink it. “They’re family.”
It was somewhere around their third drink that Tessa leaned closer, eyes glinting with mischief. “So… full disclosure,” she said softly, “I’m in an open relationship. My boyfriend’s here too.”
“Oh,” Buck said, blinking.
“He’s over there.” She gestured toward a tall man by the jukebox. He was handsome in a quiet, confident way, and when their eyes met, he smiled. “We like to meet new people together sometimes,” Tessa added, lips curving. “You seem fun.”
Buck’s brain stuttered, then restarted. He thought about how long it had been since he’d felt wanted, uncomplicatedly wanted, without all the emotional knots. He thought about how Eddie’s absence had left this weird ache in him that he didn’t know what to do with.
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Why not?”
The next morning at the station, Eddie was in the locker room when he heard Ravi and Buck talking.
He wasn’t eavesdropping—at least not at first. He’d just been changing his shirt when their voices drifted in from the gym.
“…so then what happened?” Ravi asked, laughing.
Buck’s voice came back, light and teasing. “Well, she said she and her boyfriend were in an open relationship, and I figured—why not? They were both great, actually. It was kind of—fun.”
Eddie froze.
Ravi’s laugh echoed. “No way. You actually did it?”
“Yeah.” Buck chuckled. “It was… yeah. I had a good time.”
Something ugly and hot curled in Eddie’s stomach. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. Buck could do whatever he wanted. Buck should do whatever he wanted.
But the image of Buck smiling, laughing about it—about them—dug under his skin like glass splinters.
He slammed his locker a little too hard.
By the time he walked past the gym, his jaw was tight enough to crack. Buck waved when he saw him, all sunshine and warmth.
“Hey, you made it in early,” Buck said.
Eddie barely nodded. “Yeah.”
“Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
He could feel Ravi’s confused glance between them. Buck’s expression fell just slightly, confusion giving way to concern.
“Eds—”
“I’ve gotta check the truck,” Eddie interrupted, brushing past him.
He could feel Buck watching him go. And he hated that too.
By the time their shift hit the halfway mark, Eddie’s patience had worn thin.
Buck was being… Buck — cheerful, oblivious, endlessly talkative. Ravi was teasing him about something while they checked inventory, and every time Buck laughed, Eddie felt his teeth grind together.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t rational. But jealousy rarely was.
He’d been trying not to look at Buck. Trying not to remember that stupid conversation in the gym — the one that had been echoing in his head all morning.
She and her boyfriend were in an open relationship… I figured why not… they were both great.
Every word had been a punch to the gut he couldn’t even justify feeling.
He told himself it was about Ravi — that Ravi had pushed Buck into something reckless. That was easier to be angry about. It was cleaner than the truth, which sat heavy and sour in his chest.
So when Ravi called across the bay, “Buck, you’re on coffee duty,” and Buck groaned saying he was tired but still had that easy grin, Eddie muttered to himself under his breath, “Maybe you can find another couple to pour it for you.”
Hen, walking by, froze mid-step. “Okay,” she said carefully. “That sounded… loaded.”
Eddie scowled. “Forget it.”
“No, no,” she said, crossing her arms. “I think we’re way past ‘forget it.’ What’s going on?”
He glanced toward the others. Buck and Ravi were still laughing about something near the kitchen, heads close, unaware of the tension building behind them.
“Nothing,” Eddie muttered again, but Hen’s eyebrows rose.
She followed his line of sight, then looked back at him — and her expression softened into something that made his stomach twist. “Oh,” she said quietly. “Oh.”
“Don’t,” he said.
“I’m not saying anything,” she said, hands up in surrender. “But you might want to take a breath before your face gives you away.”
Eddie rubbed at the back of his neck, heart pounding. “It’s just—he was talking to Ravi earlier. About some girl. And a guy. And—” He broke off, frustration boiling over. “He said it was fun. Like it was nothing. And I just…”
Hen tilted her head. “You just what?”
Eddie’s jaw worked. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “It shouldn’t bother me, he is my best friend. I should be happy he is exploring what’s out there. But it does.”
Hen was quiet for a beat, her voice soft when she spoke again. “You ever think maybe it bothers you because it’s not just friendship anymore?”
He laughed weakly, shaking his head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because somewhere deep down, it wasn’t ridiculous at all — it was terrifyingly, painfully possible.
Buck knew something was wrong.
Eddie was… distant. Short. Snappy.
It wasn’t new for Eddie to be grumpy after a rough call or a long day, but this was different. This was cold in a way that made Buck’s chest ache.
He kept trying to reach him, to joke or tease or ask if everything was okay, but every attempt seemed to make Eddie pull further away.
By the third day, Buck was miserable.
He found Hen in the kitchen late that evening, stirring her coffee with a frown. “Hey,” he said cautiously. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Buckaroo.”
“Did I… do something to piss Eddie off?”
Hen hesitated, glancing toward the bunks where Eddie was asleep. “What makes you think that?”
“He barely talks to me,” Buck said. “When he does, it’s like I ran over his dog or something. I can’t figure out what I did.”
Hen bit her lip, clearly weighing her words. “Look, I think maybe you two need to have a conversation.”
“That’s the problem — he won’t talk to me!”
She sighed. “Then give him time. He’s… figuring something out.”
“Figuring what out?”
Hen smiled faintly. “Not my story to tell.”
Buck groaned. “That’s not helpful, Hen.”
“I know,” she said. “But trust me, he’ll come around. Just… don’t push. And maybe avoid telling any more wild stories about your nights out, yeah?”
Buck blinked. “What?”
But before she could explain, she’d already turned back to her coffee, a knowing little smirk on her face.
By the end of the week, Eddie was exhausted.
Pretending not to care was harder than he thought it’d be. Avoiding Buck, harder still.
Every time he looked at him — at the easy smile, the bright eyes that softened whenever they met his — something in his chest clenched painfully.
He knew it wasn’t just jealousy anymore. It was something bigger, scarier, and entirely out of his control.
When Chris went to bed that night, Eddie sat on the couch, staring at nothing. The apartment felt too quiet, his thoughts too loud.
Hen’s words replayed in his head like a mantra: Maybe it’s not just friendship anymore.
And for once, Eddie didn’t try to deny it.
He loved Buck.
Not in a casual, friendly way. Not in a “he’s my partner” way. In the way that made his heart race and his stomach flip and his hands shake every time Buck smiled at him.
He pressed a hand to his face, groaning softly. “Oh, god.”
He was in love with Buck.
And he had no idea what to do about it.
It started as a thought — a restless itch under his skin he couldn’t shake.
Buck hadn’t answered his text in hours.
That wasn’t unusual. They were both busy. Except now that Eddie had finally admitted to himself what he felt, every unanswered message twisted like a knife.
He told himself Buck was fine. Out with Maddie or Ravi, maybe. Or asleep. But then he’d checked his phone again — and saw Buck’s location turned off.
That had never happened before. Not once.
Something inside him snapped.
By the time he grabbed his keys, his pulse was a drumbeat in his ears. He didn’t think. He just moved.
The drive to Buck’s place blurred — lights, traffic, the hum of his truck blending into the thundering mess of his thoughts. What if Buck was hurt? What if he wasn’t alone? What if—
He barely remembered letting himself in with his spare key, heart hammering.
The apartment was dark, quiet, too quiet. Buck’s jacket wasn’t by the door. His sneakers weren’t by the couch.
Eddie sank onto the sofa, elbows on his knees, and waited.
Minutes dragged into an hour. Then two. His thoughts spun wild. Every ugly image his mind could conjure, every version of Buck’s easy grin directed at someone else.
By the time he heard the key turn in the lock, Eddie’s chest was tight enough to burst.
“Buck?” he called, voice sharp.
Buck stepped in, jacket half-off, cheeks flushed from the cool night air — and he wasn’t alone.
A man followed him in. Tall, dark hair, nice smile.
Eddie’s heart stopped.
“Oh,” Buck said, startled. “Eddie? What are you—”
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you? Who the hell is this?” Eddie demanded, standing too quickly.
The guy looked between them, awkward. “Uh. I think we can take a rain check on that coffee… looks like you have things you need to discuss.”
“No,” Buck said quickly, confusion flooding his face. “You don’t have to—”
But the man was already backing out, murmuring something about calling later.
When the door shut, the silence that followed was electric — dangerous.
“What the fuck, Eddie?” Buck asked, voice sharp with disbelief. “Why are you here? Did something happen? Why are you—are you crying?”
Eddie hadn’t even realized he was. “You turned off your location,” he said, words tumbling out too fast, too raw. “You never turn off your location. I thought—” He broke off, chest heaving. “I thought something happened.”
Buck blinked. “Nothing happened. I was on a date.”
The word hit him like a slap. “A date,” Eddie repeated, voice shaking. “Already?”
“Already?” Buck echoed, incredulous. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I—” Eddie ran a hand through his hair, pacing. “You were just— you were just with those people, that couple you met at the bar, and now—now there’s this guy, and—”
“Wait.” Buck held up a hand. “What couple? How do you—”
“I heard you!” Eddie snapped, too loud, too desperate. “At the gym. You were bragging to Ravi about it—about how great it was, how fun it was!”
Buck stared, stunned into silence.
“And I just—” Eddie’s voice cracked. “I can’t stand it, Buck. I can’t stand hearing you talk about being with other people. It makes me—” His breath hitched, words breaking apart. “It makes me crazy.”
“Eddie…” Buck’s voice softened. “You’re not making sense.”
“I am!” Eddie shouted, tears spilling freely now. “I’m making perfect sense! You— you go out and have these nights and dates and I’m just supposed to sit here pretending it doesn’t kill me inside!”
Buck’s jaw clenched. “Why? Why would it kill you, Eddie? I’m not— we’re not—”
“Because I love you!”
The words ripped out of him like something feral, unstoppable. The silence that followed was instant and deafening.
Buck froze.
Eddie stood there, chest heaving, tears streaking down his face, suddenly terrified of the sound of his own voice.
“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time. And I didn’t realize it until I heard you talking about someone else touching you and I— I couldn’t breathe, Buck. I couldn’t breathe.”
Buck didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at him, wide-eyed, stunned.
And that silence, that stillness was all the answer Eddie needed.
He laughed, broken and small. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “That’s what I thought, I’m sorry I ruined your night, I’ll just go back home, you can call your date back if you want.”
He brushed past Buck before the tears could blind him completely.
“Eddie—” Buck started, reaching out.
But Eddie was already gone.
He stood there for a long time after the door slammed.
The apartment felt wrong without Eddie in it, even though he was the one who’d made it that way.
Buck’s brain couldn’t catch up to what had just happened. The words kept echoing in his head, heavy and impossible: I love you.
Eddie Diaz — calm, steady, unshakable Eddie — had just lost it in his living room and told him he loved him.
Buck sat down hard on the couch, hands trembling.
He thought back to the last week — to Eddie’s distance, his sharpness, the way his eyes had flickered whenever Buck laughed with Ravi.
He’d thought Eddie was mad at him. Turns out Eddie had been… in love with him.
And the worst part? Somewhere deep down, Buck wasn’t surprised.
Because he’d been feeling something too — that same ache when Eddie smiled at someone else, that same ridiculous jealousy whenever Eddie left without saying goodbye.
He hadn’t wanted to name it. Hadn’t dared to.
But now the truth was right there, ringing in his ears.
He loved Eddie too.
“Shit,” he whispered, half laughing, half crying.
Then he was on his feet, grabbing his keys.
Eddie didn’t remember the drive home. He didn’t remember locking the door.
He just knew he was lying on his bed, still in his jeans, staring at the ceiling while silent tears slid down his face.
He’d ruined it. Whatever they’d been — friends, partners, something sacred and steady — he’d destroyed it in a single moment of selfishness and panic.
He’d told Buck he loved him, and Buck had just… stood there.
Eddie’s chest ached like something inside him had cracked open and refused to close.
He didn’t hear the door at first — the sound of someone fumbling with the handle. He didn’t move until he heard Buck’s voice, soft and breathless.
“Eddie?”
Eddie turned, startled. Buck stood in the doorway, hair a mess, eyes bright with something wild.
“Why are you here?” Eddie croaked. “I told you —”
Buck didn’t let him finish.
He crossed the room in three strides and dropped onto the bed, half laughing, half crying, hands cupping Eddie’s face.
“Because you’re an idiot,” Buck said breathlessly. “You think I’d just stand there and let you leave after that?”
Eddie blinked, speechless.
“I love you too, you moron,” Buck said, laughing harder now, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’ve been in love with you forever, and I didn’t even realize it until you yelled at me like a jealous lunatic.”
Eddie choked out a shaky laugh, staring at him. “You— what?”
Buck leaned forward, pressing frantic kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his temple. “I love you,” he said again between each one. “I love you, and I thought you hated me, and I’ve been so damn confused—”
Eddie grabbed him by the shirt and kissed him.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was everything they hadn’t said, every missed chance, every pent-up feeling finally breaking free.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and laughing and crying all at once, Buck pressed his forehead against Eddie’s.
“Next time,” he whispered, “maybe just tell me before you break into my apartment.”
Eddie laughed, a wet, shaky sound that felt like relief. “Is it really breaking in if I used the spare keys?”
They stayed like that — tangled in each other, soft words and softer kisses — until the world finally felt quiet again.
For the first time in days, Buck woke up without the ache of confusion or the buzz of self-doubt in his chest.
The morning light spilled in through Eddie’s blinds, pale and soft, and somewhere beneath the blanket, a hand was resting warm and heavy on his ribs.
It took him a second to realize whose it was.
Eddie.
Eddie Diaz, his best friend, his partner, the man who had yelled and cried and confessed in the same breath, was lying behind him, arm slung around his waist like he belonged there.
Buck smiled before he could stop himself.
It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t another one of those half-asleep fantasies he’d been trying to bury. Eddie was really there — real and solid and quietly breathing against his back.
“Stop smiling like that,” Eddie mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
Buck rolled onto his back, looking at him. “Like what?”
“Like you just got everything you ever wanted.”
Buck grinned wider. “Maybe I did.”
Eddie’s mouth twitched, fighting a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me anyway.”
“I do,” Eddie said simply — and Buck’s breath caught. No hesitation. No awkward laugh or nervous deflection. Just I do.
It hit him harder than any grand confession ever could.
He reached out, brushing his thumb along Eddie’s jaw, tracing the faint stubble there. “Last night was kind of insane,” Buck said softly.
Eddie groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“I mean, you did break into my apartment, yell at me for going on a date, the guy probably thinks I cheated on you, and then confess your love.”
Eddie buried his face in the pillow. “You’re never letting me live that down, are you?”
“Not a chance,” Buck said, laughing quietly. “But… I get it now.”
Eddie looked up, wary. “Get what?”
“What it felt like,” Buck said, his tone turning gentle. “Hearing something you didn’t want to hear. Thinking I was with someone else. I’ve felt that way too, Eds. Every time you hung out with Hen without me, every time you went home early or didn’t text back… I’d get this stupid ache in my chest, like I was being left behind.”
Eddie blinked, startled. “You were jealous of Hen?”
Buck shrugged. “You laugh with her differently.”
Eddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the faint blush on his cheeks. “You’re ridiculous, she is married and a Lesbian.”
“I know it was ridiculous, maybe we really are made for each other,” Buck said, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “But I’m yours and your mine so I don’t care right now.”
Eddie’s smile softened. “Yeah, me neither.”
Later, when the morning light had shifted to gold, Eddie made coffee while Buck sat on the counter, bare feet swinging, hair still a mess from sleep.
It felt easy — terrifyingly easy — like this was how it had always been meant to be.
“Hen’s gonna say ‘I told you so,’” Buck said, sipping from his mug.
Eddie huffed a laugh. “She’s earned it.”
“And Ravi’s never gonna let me forget that he was technically the one who started this whole thing.”
Eddie shot him a look. “Don’t push it.”
Buck grinned. “Still jealous?”
Eddie gave a small shrug, pretending to focus on the coffee machine. “Maybe a little. I’m working on it.”
Buck hopped off the counter, moving behind him, arms slipping around his waist. “Hey. You don’t ever have to wonder again, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”
Eddie leaned back into him, eyes closing as he breathed in that familiar scent, soap and something distinctly Buck.
“I know,” he murmured. “I just… I didn’t know what to do with it before. The way I felt.”
Buck kissed his temple. “You figured it out eventually.”
“After nearly having a breakdown in your living room.”
Buck chuckled softly. “Best night of my life.”
Eddie snorted. “You’re insane.”
“Only about you.”
He turned in Buck’s arms then, cupping his face, eyes soft and certain. “I love you,” he said again, the words steady this time, no panic, no fear.
Buck smiled — that bright, boyish grin that always made Eddie’s chest ache. “I love you too.”
They kissed — slow, gentle, the kind of kiss that tasted like promises and new beginnings.
When they finally pulled apart, Eddie whispered, “You know, for the record, you’re never allowed to turn your location off again.”
Buck laughed, eyes crinkling. “Deal. As long as you promise not to break in next time.”
“It’s not breaking in if…” but the rest of Eddie’s words were muffled by Buck’s lips on his.