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The Diaz house was a beautiful kind of chaos —the kind that smelled faintly of cinnamon and fresh paint, full of boxes that hadn’t yet found their corners, half-hung decorations trembling from the ceiling fan’s breeze, and trays of half-prepared food waiting for a final touch. The laughter that usually lived in those walls had been replaced by the muffled sound of shuffling boxes and Buck’s relentless list-making.
Christopher, ever the clever escape artist, had vanished a couple of hours earlier under the noble excuse of having “a job” at a friend’s house. Eddie and Buck both knew better —there wasn’t a single homework assignment involved.
It was pure cowardice, and smart cowardice at that.
The kid had timed his “mission” right before the serious decorating began. Eddie could almost hear his son’s voice teasing from afar, “You two got this, right?”
So, there they were —Buck and Eddie, powered by eggs, bacon, and coffee strong enough to wake the dead— trying to turn their slightly chaotic home into a picture-perfect New Year’s Eve party.
“We should start with the decorations,” Buck announced, clipboard in hand, striding across the kitchen like a man on a mission. His face was a map of concentration, his brow furrowed in that way that made Eddie’s stomach twist a little. “First I have to—”
“Hey, I’ll take care of that, okay?” Eddie cut in, trying to sound casual.
Buck froze mid-sentence, head snapping up with an expression that could only be described as ‘Did you just tell me not to micromanage?’ —like Eddie had declared the moon was made of cheese and that he planned to eat it for breakfast.
Eddie tried not to smile, but failed.
And that’s how Eddie Diaz, U.S. Army veteran, firefighter, and proud father, found himself blowing up balloons in shades of blue, gold, turquoise, and purple, courtesy of the blessed helium tank Buck had ordered days ago.
Buck had decided this year’s party theme would be Mardi Gras. Because of course he had. The man had a knack for throwing himself wholeheartedly into joy, and if Buck was going to celebrate something, it was going to shine.
The yard soon exploded into color —a dazzling storm of glitter, masks, and laughter waiting to happen. Eddie tied clusters of balloons to the fence posts and trees, letting them dance with the wind. He strung circular lanterns along the white lights Buck had set up earlier in the week, attaching strands of plastic pearls that shimmered when they caught the light.
By the end, Eddie had simply given up on order and gone full chaos —throwing beads over chairs, railings, and door handles, hanging them from tree branches, and even leaving a handful at the entryway, ready for anyone to grab. It was messy. It was colorful. And, honestly, it was very Buck.
When Eddie finally stepped back into the living room, Buck was standing there —right in the middle of the rearranged furniture— eyes wide and lips parted in something close to awe. The soft glow of the string lights painted him in gold.
“It’s perfect,” Buck whispered, his voice barely audible, and for a second, Eddie forgot how to breathe.
Then Buck straightened up, grabbed his clipboard, and in one graceful motion checked off “Decorations.” He turned toward Eddie, flashing that innocent smile that always undid him.
“Next are the centerpieces. The idea is…”
Eddie wasn’t listening. Not really. Buck was gesturing animatedly with his hands, talking about placement and balance, and Eddie was too busy watching his mouth move, his hands fly, his eyes light up. His voice faded into a hum, replaced by the pounding of Eddie’s own heartbeat.
“Were you listening to me?” Buck asked with a soft chuckle, tilting his head.
Eddie’s throat felt dry. He nodded, eyes fixed on his shoes, praying Buck couldn’t see the way his ears had turned red.
“Well,” Buck continued, teasing, “Will you help me with that while I finish the garnishes?”
Another nod. Still not breathing right.
When Buck turned back toward the kitchen, Eddie exhaled softly, his lips curling into a dreamy, helpless smile. The man could make centerpieces sound romantic.
Then realization hit him like a slap —he had no idea what Buck had just told him to do.
“Great, Diaz,” he muttered under his breath. “Real smooth.”
He racked his brain for the mental images Buck had shown him during the week —the sketches, the Pinterest boards, the late-night “what if we…” conversations over takeout and beer. Slowly, muscle memory and affection took over.
He started with the outdoor tables, spreading bright tablecloths over each one, arranging trays, feathers, and masks that seemed to teeter on the edge of disaster. The colors clashed spectacularly, but somehow it worked. By the time he placed the last two vases —filled with shimmering beads and peacock feathers— at the main table’s corners, his back ached and his hair felt grayer.
Still, he smiled. It looked… good.
Tempting fate —and Buck’s perfectionism—, Eddie wandered over to the clipboard Buck had left on the counter. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he read through the list, muttering.
“Decorations… centerpieces… Oh, come on —Dishes too?”
With a sigh, he dragged the box of tableware outside. The “disposable” plates looked far too real —glossy, sturdy, and definitely chosen by someone who cared too much. Buck.
Eddie arranged each setting with soldierly precision: charger plate, flat plate, silverware on both sides, and a purple napkin wrapped in a golden ring dead center. Over and over, like a ritual.
He was finishing the last table when a sharp gasp cut through the quiet.
Buck stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, mouth open, clipboard forgotten at his side. For a moment, he didn’t move. Then he let out a shaky laugh that broke into something almost like a sob.
“God, Eds,” he breathed, stepping forward. “It’s perfect.” His voice was small, full of wonder. “H-How did you know I wanted it like this?”
Eddie looked up, his chest tight, and smiled softly.
“You mentioned it a few days ago,” he said simply, adjusting the last napkin before walking closer.
Buck’s lips formed the tiniest pout —the kind that could kill a man if he wasn’t careful. Eddie could see the tears shining in his eyes, and before either of them could think too much about it, Eddie pulled him into a hug.
Buck melted into it instantly, arms wrapping around Eddie’s back, his head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie buried his face against Buck’s chest, breathing him in —coffee, lotion, and the faint smell of frosting. His heartbeat was steady, loud, grounding.
For a moment, Eddie let himself think, If only.
Then a shrill alarm went off, breaking the spell.
“The cupcakes!” Buck yelped, practically leaping from Eddie’s arms.
Eddie laughed, the sound low and fond.
“Go ahead,” he said, squeezing Buck’s hand before letting go. “I’ll take care of the rest.”
And he did.
The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a blur of laughter, movement, and the occasional argument about garland placement. The lights were strung higher, the tables straightened one last time, and by sunset, the house didn’t just look ready —it looked alive.
Like a promise. Like home.
Christopher arrived just in time —hair tousled, sneakers muddy, and cheeks flushed from the cold evening air. He darted a guilty glance at both adults before mumbling something about “helping out a friend” and escaping toward his room like a fugitive.
Eddie watched him vanish down the hallway —bedroom door slamming, then the sound of drawers opening and the shower running— and he couldn’t help but laugh under his breath. The kid had timed his reappearance perfectly, just before the guests started arriving. At least he knows how to make an entrance, Eddie thought, shaking his head.
He turned back toward the yard, hands in his pockets, the laughter from the house fading behind him. The late afternoon light spilled through the open back door, bathing everything in that golden hue that made even ordinary things feel softer. Buck was out there, fussing over the lights again, his brow furrowed in concentration, clipboard tucked under one arm.
And Eddie froze.
Because damn —Buck looked good.
That dark blue shirt fit him like it had been tailored for him, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms, veins faintly visible beneath his skin. The jeans clung just right, the fabric stretching when he bent to adjust one of the cords. His hair, still slightly damp from the shower, curled at the edges, soft and disheveled in that way that made Eddie’s chest ache.
Buck was talking to Bobby about the power outlets, but Eddie wasn’t hearing a word. His eyes were locked, tracing every familiar line —the curve of his shoulders, the ease in his movements, the way he smiled when he solved a problem that only existed in his own head.
Eddie didn’t even realize someone had joined him until a hand rested on his shoulder. He startled slightly, turning to find Karen standing beside him, her expression somewhere between fond amusement and mischief.
“Enjoying the view?” she teased, her smile sly.
Eddie’s brain short-circuited.
Behind her, Hen, Denny, and little Mara stepped inside, laughter following them like a warm breeze. Hen leaned in to kiss Eddie on the cheek, her perfume mingling with the scent of roasted food and candle wax. Denny and Mara took off at full speed toward the hallway, their shoes squeaking on the tile.
Eddie let out a relieved chuckle —thank God for the kids, he thought. Maybe Karen would drop the subject.
“Chris’s in his room,” he said quickly, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway. “You can get him out if you want.”
Hen grinned.
“Oh, I’ll leave that honor to your boy,” she said, glancing back as the children disappeared, shouting something about who got the top bunk. She headed for the yard, muttering under her breath, “You’re setting the bar too high for whoever hosts the next party.”
Karen stayed behind.
Eddie could feel her eyes on him, the way she didn’t move or speak right away. He rubbed the back of his neck, already dreading the conversation.
“Karen, one night,” he muttered, voice low, fidgeting with his hands like a man caught in the act.
Her grin widened.
“Eddie, he’s your husband.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You can see him as much as you want.”
Then she punched his shoulder —not too hard, but enough to make him blink.
Eddie froze, fingers brushing against the gold band on his ring finger. His mouth fell open slightly as the words settled in.
Because she was right.
He was his husband.
Not just his partner, not just his best friend, not just Buck. His husband.
He could look at him —openly, freely, without guilt or pretense. He could touch him. Kiss him. Love him. The world hadn’t ended. No one had turned away.
A slow smile spread across Eddie’s face, the kind that reached his eyes and softened everything sharp inside him. He let out a low laugh, shaking his head at his own nervousness, then leaned in to kiss Karen’s cheek.
“Thanks,” he murmured, voice thick with affection.
And before she could make another joke, he was already walking toward Buck.
Buck was laughing with Athena and Bobby by the food table, hands flying as he talked, the soft light catching on his hair. Eddie came up behind him, sliding a hand along his waist —a touch that felt both new and achingly familiar.
Buck turned, mid-sentence, that dazzling grin blooming across his face. Eddie leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, the world narrowing to that single, electric point of contact.
“Hey,” Eddie whispered against his mouth.
“Hey,” Buck replied, smiling so wide it made his dimples appear. His voice came out softer, tender. “I don’t think we’ve kissed all day.”
Eddie’s laugh was low and fond.
“My bad,” he whispered, brushing the tip of his nose along Buck’s neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses there —one, two, three. The scent of him was dizzying— soap, sugar, and something distinctly Buck.
“I forgot we’re married,” Eddie murmured against his skin. “Everything feels so similar to how it used to be that… I don’t know, I just—”
Buck stopped him with a kiss —slow, deliberate, grounding. His hands cupped Eddie’s cheeks, thumbs tracing gentle circles there.
“I feel the same way sometimes,” Buck murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “But then you kiss me, and I remember that we’re not just two friends pretending not to feel what we’re feeling.”
Eddie’s chest tightened. He exhaled shakily, eyes softening as he kissed Buck again —once, twice, lingering.
And then, inevitably, someone cleared their throat.
They broke apart just enough to turn and find Maddie standing there, her expression full of sibling mischief. Chimney was beside her, barely holding in his laughter, while little Jee-Yun, perched on his hip, giggled in pure delight.
“Did you forget you were married again?” Maddie asked, eyebrows raised in mock reproach.
Chimney lost it, bursting out laughing, and Jee-Yun joined him, clapping her tiny hands.
Buck groaned, burying his face in Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around him, the laughter of their family spilling into the warm night air around them.
The party was a success.
Not just fun, not just lively, but something that felt alive —bursting at the seams with color, laughter, and the kind of warmth that lingered long after the music stopped.
The Diaz backyard glowed under the strings of golden lights and paper lanterns swaying gently in the night breeze. The air shimmered with the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses, the scent of food mingling with the faint smoke of sparklers. The decorations had done their job —the Mardi Gras colors gleamed in every direction, beads draped over shoulders and trees, masks glittering under the porch light.
Hen was dancing with Karen near the edge of the yard, Denny and Christopher laughing nearby as they tried to copy Chimney’s terrible attempt at salsa. Maddie and Athena were filming them all, and Bobby stood by the grill, shaking his head but smiling.
Eddie stood beside Buck, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other loosely holding a cup he’d forgotten about ten minutes ago. He wasn’t really watching the crowd —not the fireworks being prepped, not the kids laughing or the music changing tracks— he was watching him.
Buck was in his element. His blue shirt caught the warm light, his cheeks flushed from both the wine and the excitement. He had that unstoppable grin —the one that made everyone around him brighter by proximity. Eddie couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t stop thinking this is my life now. My husband. My family. My home.
Someone in the crowd shouted “One minute!” —Chim, obviously— and immediately everyone started to gather near the center of the yard.
The music faded slightly, replaced by the buzz of voices and the clatter of glasses being raised. Masks were pulled down over faces, glasses shaped like the new year slipped on crookedly, and beads clinked and shimmered in every direction.
Eddie turned toward Buck, the chaos around them blurring into background color. Without saying a word, he reached out, threading his fingers through Buck’s. Their hands fit together so naturally, like two pieces that had been meant to find each other all along.
Buck looked at him, startled at first, then smiling —a soft, secret kind of smile that reached his eyes. Eddie lifted their joined hands and pressed a gentle kiss to them, right over their wedding rings, his thumb brushing against Buck’s skin. The world around them began to chant.
“Ten… nine…”
Buck leaned closer, eyes shining.
“Eight… seven…”
The voices grew louder, laughter bubbling around them, children yelling over the adults.
“Six… five…”
Fireworks crackled faintly in the distance, ready to burst into life.
“Four… three…”
Eddie’s heart hammered in his chest. He could feel it —the pull, the gravity between them that had always been there, even before either of them had dared to name it.
“Two…”
He cupped Buck’s face, his thumb tracing the curve of his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his palm.
“One!”
The world erupted in light. Fireworks bloomed overhead in a riot of color —blue, gold, and violet, painting the sky above their home. The cheers of friends, the laughter of children, the sound of glasses clinking —all of it swirled around them like music.
Eddie and Buck didn’t cheer. They didn’t shout. They just looked at each other —really looked— as if the entire world had paused just for them.
Then Eddie leaned forward, and Buck met him halfway.
Their lips met in a deep, lingering kiss —not rushed, not fiery, but full of quiet wonder. The kind of kiss that said we made it here. After everything.
Buck’s hand came up to cradle the back of Eddie’s neck, his fingers threading through short hair, while Eddie’s other hand slid along Buck’s jaw, holding him steady, grounding him in the middle of the noise and light.
When they finally pulled apart, the fireworks were still echoing across the sky. Buck’s forehead rested against Eddie’s, both of them breathless, eyes shining with something beyond happiness.
Then, from somewhere behind them, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
“Daaaad! Buck!”
Christopher.
They turned at the same time to see him standing a few feet away, wearing a gold mask and an expression that was half amusement, half exasperation. He was holding a sparkler in one hand, grinning despite himself.
Eddie laughed first —a deep, genuine laugh that made Buck join in immediately. They both leaned down, kissing Christopher’s cheeks on either side, earning a long-suffering groan and an exaggerated eye-roll from their son.
“Okay, okay!” Christopher muttered, pretending to push them away but not really trying.
Buck ruffled his hair, Eddie kissed the top of his head, and for a heartbeat, everything stilled. The laughter, the fireworks, the glow of the lights —all of it blended into a single moment of pure, quiet joy.
Because they were husbands.
And that was their kid.
And everything felt exactly right.