Archive of Our Own

It's December 5th, and Eddie is desperately trying not to break any Los Angeles traffic laws. 

He doesn't have his foot on the floor because there's far too much road-block traffic around any given corner in LA, but he is taking every shortcut he knows. Christopher had been in a nasty mood that morning, which has been rare even with the big move, and now Eddie is going to be late.

His fingers are anxiously drumming against the steering wheel when he pulls into the 118 Firehouse parking lot, most of the spots already taken. He's definitely late. 

"Bobby, I'm so sorry, this isn't a regular thing I just had a really rough morning with Chris and the traffic was-"

Eddie's halfway through his sentence when Bobby holds a hand up to stop him. His back straightens that hard line, that desperation to prove himself and how organized he can be, the ever present army background, but Bobby is smiling. "It's two minutes, Eddie, don't worry. Just try to not let it happen regularly, okay?"

Eddie's hand tightens on the strap of his bag, cutting into his palm, and ducks in a breath. "Thanks, Cap."

Bobby nods at him once. "Go get yourself ready, I need you upstairs in a few minutes." 

It's been three months since Eddie started working at the 118, and he's still not exactly used to the way they function. In his time at the academy, he'd become friendly with the other trainees, but no more than a regular coworker-like relationship. Even the captains desperately trying to recruit him had treated him professionally, and while the 118 in no way overstep professionalism, he's fairly certain their pseudo-family dynamic isn't the standard for LA firehouses. 

It's not the whole firehouse, not even the whole of A shift, because some of the others have kept everyone at a regular coworker's length. Not everyone goes to semi-regular bar trips that Chimney keeps trying to get Eddie to attend and Eddie keeps declining, not everyone joins in with taking turns on who's playing sous chef for Cap that Eddie keeps making excuses against, not everyone is attending the 118 Christmas party that Eddie has already assured himself he doesn't have to go to. 

He likes his new coworkers (for the most part). They continuously try to rope him into their little circle even though he keeps skirting around directly refusing, even though one of their core members hates his guts. But he's gotten used to Buck's constant jabs and invitations to one-up each other, even finds them somewhat entertaining, and he also thinks that's why he's been half-adopted into their co-dependent circle. 

He greets Hen while he heads to the glass locker rooms and he gossips with Chimney while he's making his coffee. When he settles with both of them at one of the tables he even pretends he doesn't notice the aggressive eye-roll Buck sends his way. 

"Alright, this isn't a firehouse matter so I only really wanted to speak to two of you," Bobby starts once he's sitting at the head of the table, raising his eyebrows at Hen and Chimney. "Although I suspect two of you are just here to eavesdrop."

Eddie's head snaps up, because he knows he has been invited to this conversation, and he can see the half-amused, half-caught-out looks that Hen and Chim swap with each other. The only other person at the table is Buck. His fingers start their anxious tapping again, a hidden rhythm against his thigh hidden under the table. 

"I've tried to give you two space to work out whatever problem you might have with each other, but it's getting to the point where I have to act as your boss and intervene. What you're doing could be dangerous when we're out there on the field. You're both good firefighters, some of the best I've ever seen, but your inability to leave this feud in the firehouse could cost us a life one day," Bobby explains, firm and earnest. 

Eddie's chest twists painfully. He knows all of this, it's obvious in the way that when they're out there sometimes he does let Buck's barbs get to him, if not because they hit a sore spot then because he's also aware it could fuck them over. But he's never been able to communicate that calmly, it always comes out in a snap after one too many comments. He swallows. Ultimately, Buck is the favorite. 

"I don't want to separate you, whether that be shifts or a transfer," Nausea creeps up Eddie's throat, and he can feel Chim look in his direction. "So I'm giving you one last chance. You're both going to plan this year's Christmas party, together."

There's a beat of silence while Eddie's brain tries to catch up with what Bobby's just told them. And then, Buck. 

"Absolutely not," He protests, so dramatically that he has to stand up when he says it. His chair scrapes against the floor of the loft painfully loud and Eddie winces, ducking his head before he even checks to see if anyone else is beginning to watch. He wants to tell Buck to keep it down, but somehow he doesn't think that would help. "Is this a test? Are you kidding? Seriously, it's not very funny."

Bobby does that thing where he schools his expression and raises his eyebrows, his Buck-scolding face. "No, Buck, I'm not kidding."

"Bobby..." Eddie says, far softer and gentler and probably a whole lot more desperate.  

"This is what I've decided, so this is what's happening. Unless either of you would rather just transfer now?" He looks between them, one at a time. Both men stay silent. "I want proof that you've actually worked on this together. Pick a date, let me know, and everything else is up to you."

"Eddie hates Christmas!" Buck tries again, and Eddie has to wonder how and when he'd learned that. It's true, obviously, but it's not like Eddie's openly shared that information with him. 

Naturally, it's at that moment that the alarm rings and Bobby is standing up with that smug little smirk on his face. Eddie feels like he's got whiplash or like he's living some kind of extremely unfunny nightmare. 

"I guess you're gonna have to un-Grinch our Grinch," Eddie hears Hen say as they rush down the stairs. Momentarily, he hopes he'll trip and break his neck to avoid this whole ordeal. 

The next chunk of their shift is busy, with constant back-to-back calls that refrain Eddie from being able to beg Bobby to call off the forced proximity plan. It does give him time to think over his strategy: it’s a terrible plan that will only mean they’ll grow more irritated with each other because they are fundamentally different people. Buck is the type of person who wakes up on November 1st and listens to nothing but Christmas music for sixty days straight, while Eddie only really thinks about Christmas at all because of Christopher.

Eddie tries not to complain when Chris’ radio station of choice switches to 24/7 festive tunes, Eddie sets up decorations around the house in every room but his own, and Eddie buys gifts throughout the year so he doesn’t have to think about it in late December, but he’ll never be caught dead in a Christmas sweater or cranking the music in his own time. 

If Bobby thinks this is going to make them functional partners, he’s wrong. It’s going to end with Buck driving Eddie so insane that he kills him.

Eddie had developed the ability to fall into a half-consciousness at some point in his life. He thinks it started when he was a child, constantly feeling like he needed to keep an ear out when Sophia and Adriana were still young. It continued when he enlisted. It continued when he came back and Shannon left. Now, it continues in the firehouse, with Eddie facedown in one of the bunks.

“Are you sleeping?” 

Eddie groans, smothered by the pillow. He twists his head to the side to stare directly at Buck. “I was.”

“We need to talk about the party,” Buck continues, sitting on the opposite bunk, exactly how Eddie had expected him to. Eddie sighs but sits up to mirror him anyway. His body is tired and aching, and he hopes that humoring Buck will make him go away quicker. 

“This couldn’t have waited? I was going to try and talk Bobby out of it,” Eddie retorts, rubbing his hand over his face.

Buck shakes his head. “I’ve already tried, six times. He’s not budging.”

“Right, but you’re you and I’m not you,”

That earns Eddie an eye roll and a complete disregard otherwise. “Listen, I know you hate fun and joy because you’re an adult and you were a soldier, so Christmas is way too childish for you to enjoy,” Eddie opens his mouth to interrupt, but Buck doesn’t give him the opportunity. “But I’m not letting your soul-sucking misery ruin this tradition for everyone else, okay? It’s a big deal for us.”

“I have a kid, Buck, I get it. Do you think I make him skip Christmas?”

“I don’t know, maybe!” Buck says, gesturing with his hands. Eddie’s noticed he does that a lot, especially when he’s excited or exasperated. He wouldn’t be surprised if Buck’s been known to knock things over before.

“We celebrate Christmas. Christopher’s probably more into the whole thing than you are, honestly.” 

Buck looks at him a little oddly then, like he’s assessing Eddie in some way. “Well, whatever. If Bobby isn’t backing down then we’ll have to plan such a good party that he won’t ever be able to complain about us again. Agreed?’

Eddie sighs. “Agreed.”

“I need your phone number so we can communicate better. He wants us to prove that we didn't just plan everything separately, and that you were actually involved, so I feel like a text chain is the best evidence.” Buck says, one hand fumbling for his phone in his pocket. He holds it out on the new contact page without waiting for a response. 

Eddie takes the phone and inputs his number, handing it back over along with his own, Buck (work) in the contact name field. 

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Eddie asks, audibly exhausted. Buck hands his phone back over and nods stiffly, giving him one last glance over before he heads back up to the loft. 

Friday morning, Eddie gets home from his shift after Carla has done the morning school run and immediately crashes into his bed for a four-hour deep sleep nap.

He’s not entirely surprised to wake up to a dozen or so texts from Buck. He checks all of his other messages first, one from his mom and a few from his sisters, and makes himself a coffee before opening the conversation with Buck.

Today, 7:32 AM

From: Buck (work) 

I know u are totally against fun or whatever but I've been thinking about ideas for the party and I think we should go with a strong theme or smthn

We could go totally traditional and do smthn like an ugly sweater party or winter wonderland or something? Ugly sweater sounds pretty boring though imo plus I think everyone should dress up nice yknow rather than just sweaters

Masquerade ball? santas workshop? or is santas workshop too childish? obviously u and hen and athena have kids but maybe it wouldnt be so fun for the other adults so maybe not. ill workshop the theme

omg i started writing a list of cocktails but is alcohol even a good idea with bobby or should we just do mocktails and eggnog?

nevermind what am i talking about we always drink at the barbecues im just panicking

I think celebrating a traditional yule would be a good idea but id want to do the full 12 days and i dont think bobby would want us at his house for 12 days straight so maybe thats off the list :/ 

Did u know that Bacchanalia was supposed to be dionysus’ birthday on the 25th of December and was celebrated across 12 days of feasts and drinks

and that also apparently the Finish sun goddess beiwe was also celebrated then and that she was said to ride on a sleigh of reindeer bones

that’s so metal

dionysus is the greek god of wine btw

I feel like u know that actually aren’t u always reading history books?

Eddie is nearly done with his coffee by the time he’s gotten to the end of Buck’s texts, all spanning across a few hours as if he’d been researching and writing notes and using his texts with Eddie as a stream-of-consciousness. He settles back against one of the kitchen counters to type out his reply. 

Today, 11:51 AM

To: Buck (work)

I do know about Dionysus and Bacchanalia. I didn’t know about Beiwe.

From: Buck (work)

Wow so helpful on deciding a theme thanks eddie

To: Buck (work)

You’re welcome. Have you been to sleep?

From: Buck (work)

No. r u busy today?

To: Buck (work)

My kid is at school. I have some errands. Why?

From: Buck (work)

[address]

Meet me here @ 1:30 2 plan 

do NOT think ab skipping or ill tell bobby ur not cooperating

To: Buck (work)

OK Buck I get it.

By 1 PM, Eddie’s completed his list of errands. He’s cleaned the house, done his grocery shopping, and emailed his work schedule to Carla so they can sort out when he’ll need her to look after Christopher the following month. 

He drives to the address Buck had sent a little early and spends ten minutes sitting in his too-hot car before he bites the bullet and makes his way into the little café Buck’s chosen. It’s a nice place, a bit BoHo styled with big houseplants between the kitschy wicker tables and chairs, soft music playing over the sounds of the big industrial coffee machines, the two front walls being floor-to-ceiling windows that give it a bright and airy feel. 

Buck is already set up on one of the window tables with a notebook and a laptop in front of him. Eddie had assumed he’d already be there when he pulled up, but the car time was necessary for his mental stability. 

“It’s going to be hard to convince Bobby I helped if you do all the work yourself,” He quips, taking a seat opposite Buck on the other side of the table. Buck’s halfway through an iced drink, clicking through tabs. 

“You’re late,” Buck says, and Eddie has to glance down at his watch. 

“By two minutes?”

“You’re still late,” Buck chastises again before pushing his notebook toward Eddie. It’s a page of barely comprehensive notes and some of the worst handwriting Eddie’s ever seen a grown person have, but he can more or less pick apart the sections separating food, decoration, clothing, etcetera. None of it is conclusive, more mirroring the way he’d been using his texts with Eddie earlier in the day. 

Eddie scans over the themes section, which gets more deranged and odd as the list goes on. “We are not doing communion. Are you even religious?”

Buck shrugs, eyes locked on his laptop as he hastily types. “Raised Episcopalian. Aren’t you Catholic?”

Eddie doesn’t know how he knows that other than maybe catching conversations between Eddie and Bobby when he’d first started at the firehouse and Bobby was making a conscious effort to get to know him better. He’d asked about Eddie’s beliefs, and Eddie had told him. Now, he stares at Buck while something in his stomach twists painfully. 

“Lapsed. I don’t think the non-religious folk would be down with this one, and I’m not so sure it’s appropriate to class it as a theme.” Buck rolls his eyes and reaches over to strike a line through that particular idea, and then tucks the pen between his lips. Eddie looks back at the list. “What does this mean? Historical, with three question marks?” 

Buck glances back up at him after refocusing on his laptop, his face tilted down so he’s sort of looking up at Eddie through his eyelashes. Eddie’s skin burns, but he ignores it. “Well, like Bacchanalia or something. I haven’t expanded much.”

Eddie nods along with him, tapping his fingers on the list. He’s uncertain why he feels so uneasy all of a sudden, and he thinks ordering a coffee would only make the anxiety-adjacent feeling under his skin worse. “Well, like you said, we can’t do Yule or Bacchanalia because they’re both twelve-day celebrations. What about Saturnalia?”

Buck’s face twists up, and then he’s back to furiously typing. Eddie watches him, half-amused. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Eddie laughs, and feels a little petty spark of pride when Buck huffs like a child having a tantrum. 

“This says that Saturnalias celebrated on the 17th, but that’s way too early right? Normally we throw it around the 20th.”

Eddie waves him off, reaching over to snatch the pen Buck had moved from his mouth to tuck behind his ear. He writes saturnalia next to historical and circles them both. Buck’s handwriting looks even more amateur next to his own, hard-to-read blocky capitals juxtaposed by neat, slanted italics. “It was extended into a longer festival, so I think we’re good to throw it whenever we want.”

“I don’t think anyone's going to be down to dress like the Romans… ‘During this time of year, brightly colored fabrics such as red, purple, and gold were worn…’. That sounds more doable. Do you own a tie?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Buck, unamused. “I’m kidding. I’m actually surprised you’re not one of those types that wear a shirt and tie outside of work, on like, all occasions.”

Eddie glances down at his soft cream henley and jeans and realizes this is the first time he’s ever seen Buck out of uniform — other than the glass locker rooms or the 118 parking lot. Absentmindedly, he thinks the muted burnt orange color Buck has on suits his skin tone nicely. Pushes it down, and pretends it hadn’t been a thought of his own at all. 

“I’m not a robot,” Eddie says, “and I have a seven-year-old. Wearing shirts all the time would be pretty pointless. Do you know how messy seven-year-olds are?”

Buck hums, his eyes going distant before they focus back in on his laptop, and an odd part of Eddie almost feels bad. He doesn’t know if Buck is actually hurt, or if he’s just bored of this back-and-forth bickering, of Eddie in general. He doesn’t push to ask. Buck might hate his guts, but Eddie certainly doesn’t feel the same.

He actually likes Buck, even if he’s still quite far from being fond of him in the same way he is with Hen or Chim or Bobby. It’s hard not to like him. His jabs and barbs towards Eddie have become less insulting to his ability, and more generally petulant. It’s sort of amusing. Incredibly frustrating at first, when Eddie had been in his first week and kept having his expertise —expertise he knows Buck doesn’t have, in the medical sense— questioned and pushed away, like Buck even had the authority to argue with him like that, but that had sort of faded away at some point. 

They still spend an awful lot of their time bickering, and sometimes when Eddie is aching and tired and annoyed he’ll snap back at Buck and it might get a bit heated (precisely why Bobby’s had to set up this scheme) but generally, it’s better.

They’re not friends, Eddie has resolved himself to knowing they never will be, but he doesn’t hate Buck. So he doesn’t push.

“What are you thinking for decor?” Eddie asks instead, letting Buck take the reigns in a spiel of information about holly and pinecones and Roman traditions. 

“We don’t have much of a budget if we want good food, which is sort of the most important thing,” Buck glances up at him a while later, as if he’s actually waiting on Eddie’s input. Eddie nods in agreement. “So I was thinking we could make a lot of the stuff, you know? The wreaths would be easy, and I think we could probably make some carnival games for the kids, plus Bobby and Athena have loads of board games from BBQ nights. Garlands would be easy too. What else?”

Eddie chews at his lip, reading through the article Buck has pulled up, his laptop pushed between them so they can both read off the screen. “Candles are definitely a no-go.”

“I’m actually a big fan of candles,” Buck says quietly like he’ll get fired just for saying it. “But yeah, for a big party, they’re a bad idea.”

Eddie feels odd now, with an empty coffee cup in front of him and a second half-drunk one in front of Buck that he’d paid for just because he’d been the one to go up and order, as though they could actually pass as friends. He also feels odd because the more Buck suggests they make things by hand, the more he realizes they’re going to have to spend quite a lot of time together. 

Eddie doubts that Bobby would be okay with them splitting the tasks and doing the crafts separately, even if they planned the event together. Buck seemingly agrees, because when he brings it up himself as they’re closing out the final details of their plan, he looks grim. 

“It’s just a few weeks,” Eddie says, closing Buck’s notebook and pushing it back over to him. The inside is now a mess of their mixed handwriting and some extremely crude doodles from Buck. “Then you never have to see me outside of work again. At least not on our own.”

Buck nods, muted, zipping his laptop back into its case and tucking it away into the backpack on the chair next to him. “Okay, so, what's first on the agenda? Decor?

“The carnival games first, I think, because I have no idea how long that could take. If it doesn’t take long then we can fit the decor in too.” Eddie thinks of their list of possible games depending on materials they might need, of the inevitable Home Depot trip they’ll have to make, and his schedule for the upcoming week. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

They both have 48 off, which does spur the inevitability of having to see Buck for multiple days in a row without a break. “I have Christopher, but I don’t think he’d mind helping out.”

Truthfully, Christopher really likes Buck.

After the earthquake, Buck had somewhat reluctantly offered to drive Eddie to the school, because his car had been in the shop that morning, and Uber drivers weren’t particularly excited to go back to work with half the city still in disarray. He’d said he loves kids, so he gets it, that he doesn’t mind, and entertained all of Christopher's excited chatter through their long drive back to Eddie’s house. 

As soon as the front door closed and Buck had driven off, Christopher immediately gushed about how much he liked Eddie’s new friend, and every time he brought up Buck since Eddie has had to tell him that Buck is too busy to come over. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. 

The human part of Buck, the part that can look past his hatred of Eddie, hesitates. “Are you sure? I get it if you’d rather spend your day off with your kid,”

“I am spending it with my kid,” Eddie shrugs, feeling an alien heat run down his spine. “He’ll be excited that he gets to help out. He’s a bit of a control freak,”

“Diaz family trait?” Buck says, and it almost sounds like it’s missing its usual condescension, as if it’s been replaced by a friendly familiarity. 

Eddie just laughs.

“Hey bud, how was your day?”

Christopher is only half climbed into the backseats of Eddie’s truck when he starts talking about the book they’re currently reading in class and how much he doesn’t like it. 

“It just doesn’t make any sense, but we’re still three chapters away from the end and then I have to do a report on it. I don’t even want to have to think about it ever again.” Christopher complains as Eddie pulls out of the school parking lot, trying to hide the amused smile on his face in case Chris catches it in the mirror.

“Well, it’s good to find out what we do and don’t like reading, right? That means that you’ll have more understanding of what you like, and what you don’t like. So when you read your next book for class, you have a better way of explaining what makes a good book because you’ve read some that aren’t good, right?”

Chris is quiet for a moment, and then huffs. “I guess so.”

Parenting win, Eddie thinks. “Hey, I have an idea that might cheer you up.”

He glances at Chris in the mirror just as he visibly lights up, and smiles to himself. “What?”

“You remember Buck right?” Chris nods, already grinning. “Well, Bobby has asked that me and him set up the party for the team this year, so we were thinking of spending tomorrow making some decorations for it. You wanna help us?”

“Buck’s coming over?” Chris asks, and Eddie unfortunately can’t watch his excitement in the mirror because he has to focus on actually driving, but he can imagine it enough. “I wanna help!”

“That’s good because I think we’ve really got our work cut out for us. Honestly, I don’t think just me and Buck could handle it on our own. We need a captain.”

The thing about seven-year-olds, Eddie’s realized andthroughly affirmed on the following morning, is that they always want to wake up on the only days when you actually have an opportunity to sleep in.

Christopher wakes him up at eight in the morning. He’s cheering like it’s actually Christmas, shaking Eddie while he tries to burrow back under his comforter with a hidden grin on his face. He pretends to put up a fight even as Christopher climbs up onto his bed and giggles, and then he can’t really hold himself back from roaring as he wraps his arms around his son and Christopher’s giggles fade into incessant laughter. 

Eventually, they make their way to the kitchen for breakfast. Eddie valiantly tries to make pancakes — and fails spectacularly when the first one burns and the fire alarm goes off, and he has to fan it with one of the kitchen towels. He’s still there, jumping up at the alarm as he tries to wave it, Christopher with his hands over his ears when someone starts knocking on his door. 

“Hold on!” Eddie yells, tipping his head back as his waving gets a little bit more desperate. Seriously, he’s a firefighter, but he can’t get his fire alarm to stop beeping?

The knocking starts again, louder, and Eddie makes a noise of frustration. “Just — fine, fine, I’m coming!” 

He apologizes to Christopher and rushes to the door, even though Chris still has his hands planted firmly over his ears and doesn’t look particularly bothered, expecting to see the mailman. Instead, it’s Buck.

“Your fire alarm is going off,” Buck says, observant as ever.

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns around to head back to the kitchen and continue his flapping. He can sense Buck following behind him, right at his heels, and tries not to smile when Christopher lights up at the sight of him, yelling a ‘Hey Buck!’ over the screaming of the fire alarm.

“Eddie, give me that,” Buck laughs, snatching the kitchen towel from Eddie before he can really protest. After a few waves, the alarm finally shuts off, although the ringing in Eddie’s ears continues. “If only you were taller,”

“We’re basically the same height,” Eddie huffs. Behind him, Christopher giggles. 

“Well, as interesting as your breakfast looks,” Buck pauses, leaning over the sink to look at the still-smoldering pan, black-tar pancake mix stuck to the bottom. “I bought pastries.”

Again, Eddie doesn’t hate Buck — far from it, really. He’s probably one of the most kind and considerate people Eddie’s ever met, at least from the stories from the rest of the team and his observations out on calls, he just doesn’t show it to Eddie directly. Obviously, because he hates Eddie. 

But he’s also here, handing Eddie a sugary latte and settling into the wooden chair beside Christopher to open up the cardboard box with an assortment of pastries on the inside, asking Chris what his favorite kind is and listening intently when he gets an answer. It’s sweet, he distantly thinks, the sweetest thing Buck’s ever done that slightly, kind of, almost benefits him directly. It’s probably for Christopher’s sake, the coffee is just an afterthought, but Eddie thinks it's sweet anyway.

He makes sure to say thank you, only partly because it’s important to teach your kids good manners, and isn’t all that surprised when Buck doesn’t acknowledge it. He grabs three plates, joins them at the table, and waits for Christopher to pick out the chocolate-filled croissant, opting for a cinnamon roll after Buck picks out an almond croissant. 

It’s a treat kind of morning, he thinks, enjoying his overly sugary breakfast with his overly sugary coffee. Eddie wonders when Buck had memorized his coffee order and how sweet he likes it. Sometimes they do coffee runs in the early mornings for the team, but normally Buck refuses — likely because he’d realized he’d have to get Eddie’s, too. He’s probably seen him make it in their little kitchen too, but it takes attention to detail to actually remember from just that. 

But Buck is odd and remembers strange things about hundreds of random topics to an extremely impressive degree, so Eddie pushes the thought back.

“Only the best fuel for our Home Depot trip,” Buck grins at Christopher, and Eddie is struck with a peculiar sadness and an overwhelming wave of affection. It’s the first time he’s ever really felt a distinct dejection towards Buck’s disdain for him, because they could probably be friends in another life. Good friends, even. “Who’s driving?”

“You,” Eddie says instantly, and when Buck laughs he has to push that uncomfortable feeling down all over again. 

If Buck wants to hate him, he can. But Eddie’s going to make sure he uses this opportunity to try his best. 

Their Home Depot trip is, predictably, long and exhausting. Christopher lets Buck sit him in the cart, which makes Eddie’s chest ache because normally he insists he’s far too old for that now and won’t even tell Eddie when he gets tired and achy, but Buck is his cool, new friend who waits for the store employees to be out of sight before racing down the aisles, fast enough that Christopher laughs loud and carefree but slow enough he has perfect control because he’d never do anything actually unsafe concerning Chris. 

He bickers with Eddie the entire time, splitting hairs over what superglue is best and what kind of wood they’ll need, and thankfully Christopher finds it endlessly amusing because Eddie actually wants to hide their lack of genuine friendship from his son. He thinks that maybe when he has to eventually explain how he and Buck are not really friends (hopefully when Christopher is firmly in his thirties) he’ll loop it back into some big moral lesson.

In true Buck fashion, they have a detailed list of what they’ll need to make their carnival games. They split the price between them, and Buck folds the receipt away in his planning notebook (because of course he does) and it’s all a little bit too domestic for Eddie.

The entire drive back, Buck listens to Christopher talk about his loathed upcoming book report and agrees wholeheartedly about how bad the book is. Eddie doubts he’s read it, but that doesn’t stop Buck from pretending he has. 

Eddie, needing a moment to breathe, fixes them all some lunch (sandwiches, so he doesn’t humiliate himself between the fire alarm and Buck’s extra two inches of height again) while Buck and Christopher head out into the backyard to get started on the carnival game construction. It’s relaxing, chopping vegetables after such a hectic morning, and it means that Christopher and Buck can talk to each other without Eddie’s chest aching over and over and over again.

He has to practically drag both of them back inside and away from the half-made bean bag toss (a plywood board and a handful of plastic buckets). Thankfully, Buck has the foresight to keep the superglue far away from Christopher, and Eddie actually thanks him when he sees the man standing over the sink, grimacing as he desperately tries to get it to flake off his hands. Buck even manages a genuine smile.

“How are you guys getting on? Need my help yet?” 

“We made the balloon darts, and we’re nearly done with the bean bag toss, and then we’re doing the photo booth,” Christopher tells him, picking up one of his diagonally cut sandwiches. “Buck said all good carnivals have a photo booth.”

Eddie smiles. “Well, he’s right about that.”

Buck looks sideward at him. “Oh really?”

“Just this once,” Eddie shrugs, realizing he’s done a whole lot more of picking apart his sandwich than actually eating it. He bites into a slice of cucumber and looks up to find Buck already staring at him. “What?”

Buck just smiles at him, shaking his head. Eddie ignores the weird stirring in his stomach and focuses on eating his food. The house feels warm, soft, and quiet and Eddie will definitely need a nap at some point after their day of construction. 

They spend the rest of the day out in the garden covered in glue and paint. Eddie grabs two beers from the kitchen when they’re done, walking back out to find Christopher and Buck playing a ‘practice round’ of the bean bag toss. Buck loses by five points, and Eddie almost chastises him for letting Christopher win but he watches Buck hoist Chris onto his back with a roar and it melts on his tongue while they race around the garden. 

Eventually, Buck sets Christopher back down on the porch by his crutches, taking the spare beer from Eddie with a grin. “We’ve got one hell of a party ahead of us,”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, quietly. “We sure do.”

It’s too easy to forget that Buck hates Eddie when they’re spending time together like this. He sticks around to make the wreaths and then for dinner and orders pizzas and lets Christopher bully him into reading a story for him when he has to go to bed (“I bet you can do all the voices way better than dad!”). 

He’s quieter when Eddie closes Christopher's door and they walk back to the kitchen table, a pile of half-made wreaths and bundles of painted pinecones, holly, mistletoe strewn across it. 

Buck isn’t the kind of person to be quiet… ever. Even when he’s in a bad mood there’s a metaphorical noisiness to it, because he’ll huff and puff and roll his eyes at Eddie so hard it’s practically audible. But now, he’s just distant. 

He taps his fingers anxiously over his open beer, eyes darting between the front door and down to the table. Eddie can tell he’s thinking of leaving because without Christopher as a buffer, what reason is there to stay? It’s far too late to do any more DIY for the Saturnalia party now, and his movements have gotten lax and sluggish the way they do when he’s visibly tired. (Eddie only knows this because they work long shifts together, of course). 

“So, what’s next on the agenda? When we’re off next, I mean.” Eddie pushes conversation, settling into one of the chairs somewhat cautiously. He’s worried Buck is going to bolt. However, Eddie’s also seen the guy with a clipboard — he knows exactly how to get him talking again. 

Buck looks up at him, his fingers settling on the bottle, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m going to speak to Bobby about our venue ideas, but I was thinking maybe decoration shopping at the Christmas markets? We probably don’t actually need both of us so I’m happy to do it on my own if you’re too busy, but I figured across-the-board agreement on everything is pretty important to prove we actually worked on this together.”

“Good idea,” Eddie agrees, simply, reaching to take a swig of his own beer. 

Buck taps his fingers again, one wave of each one against the damp glass as he chews on his lip for a second. “There’s also — well, there’s the LA zoo lights too, so if you wanted to take Christopher to that we could always do a double-bill?”

Eddie doesn’t really know what to make of that. It’s an incredibly sweet idea that Christopher will definitely be up for, but he can’t really imagine why Buck has suggested it in the first place. If it’d been an offhand comment to Chris (or even Eddie) as a suggestion for them rather than a day plan, he’d get it. But Eddie knows that both events span multiple days and don't necessarily have to be dine one after the other, so this is Buck choosing to spend extra time with them just because he wants to.

Eddie’s also not stupid. He doesn’t get his hopes up: not about this, not ever. Christopher and Buck get along like a house on fire, and he knows that Buck loves kids and dreams of having a family of his own as soon as he can, so it’s probably just that. It’s not him warming up to Eddie. 

“He’d love that,” Eddie says encouragingly, his stomach twisting when Buck visibly relaxes at his acceptance. “We’ve never been, obviously. Even in Texas… we never really did all of that.”

The Shannon of it all, and Eddie’s parents. Christopher kept his general holiday enthusiasm, but he stopped pushing to go to events and such over the years. Eddie would blame it on his age, but he’s seven. He knows the real reason. 

Going with Buck, though, that would be different. It’s not just Eddie spiraling silently while the son he ran out on shoulders how much he misses his mom, refusing to voice it. 

“I’m not letting you turn your kid into a complete Grinch because you’re one, Eddie, that’s just cruel.” Buck shakes his head, smiling almost fondly. Eddie grins back at him and it’s mostly because he’s stupid, a little bit because he just wants to. 

He aches all over again, and he’s starting to figure out why. These soft moments, the quiet ones that are somewhat cushioned by the presence or mention of Christopher, the ones that feel warm — they’re driving Eddie crazy. All they do is exemplify exactly what he’s always thought, that in another life he thinks he and Buck could be good friends. Best friends, even.

In this one, Eddie likes Buck, and Buck hates Eddie. It’s not going to change anytime soon, just because of a few DIY sessions where they table their not-so-mutual hatred for the sake of Eddie’s kid, even though Eddie really wants it to. 

He likes the 118, so much that he’s probably going to give in to those handfuls of invitations and texts soon enough, but Buck is a core part of all of that. To Bobby, and Hen, and Chimney, Buck is intrinsically linked to the team and the station. Eddie can ignore Buck’s workplace instigations, and he can push back sometimes to get him to stand down, but he can’t comfortably let the 118 bring him into the inner family until one of their most core pieces stops hating his guts. 

Buck is territorial, that much is obvious. Maybe it would be good, beneficial even, to try and slowly worm his way into Buck’s heart by earning the trust and favor and love of his favorite people first, but Eddie somehow doubts that. He’s pretty sure the closer he gets to them, the more he accepts invitations without really knowing any of them yet, the more Buck will push him away with snide comments and remarks.

It’s exhausting, because Eddie’s exhausted already, and he’s lonely. He’s really fucking lonely. 

When he looks at Buck, all he wants is someone to be his friend. He’s not sure he’s ever really had many of those, and he certainly has no one in Los Angeles. 

“He’ll love it. We both will.” 

Buck’s expression flickers for just a second, quick enough that Eddie can’t catch what his smile momentarily slips into. He drains the last dregs of his beer and stands, that previous awkwardness back in full-force. “Well, I should go. Work tomorrow and all. Unless you need help cleaning this up?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Chris will want to finish his pinecones tomorrow. I’ll put everything else in a box until the day of the party.” 

Buck nods, both of them quiet for a moment. “Well, yeah, I’ll get going then. Yeah?”

Eddie trails after him to the front door, where Buck hesitates and turns once he's crossed back over the threshold. “This was fun. You weren’t completely insufferable. I almost felt some Christmas spirit in the air, which I didn’t think was even possible 'cause you're basically a dampener for it.”

Eddie laughs at that, a moment of genuine freedom from the internal battle he’s been fighting all day. “Thanks, Buck. That was almost nice.” 

“I’m trying this Christmas charity thing, so I decided to back off you a little bit, just don’t get too used to it.” Buck grins at him, and Eddie grins back, and the tightness in his stomach isn’t there because he’s not really thinking about all of that at all anymore. For a second, he can genuinely believe that they're friends. “Bye, Eddie.”

Eddie watches him step back, half-salute on his way to his jeep. “Bye, Buck.”

Eddie doesn’t want to jinx it, but Buck is different on their next shift. 

It starts with their first call of the morning: a standard house fire at an apartment block, nothing more than a mistakenly burned breakfast (Lunch? Dinner? Eddie can’t really tell after the flames).

Eddie thinks it must be a student apartment, based on the UCLA banners, stockpiles of alcohol bottles, and the collections of plastic shot glasses and solo cups in every corner. There are four housemates altogether, two of who are watching the commotion (a mere few of the 118) from the sofa in the on-looking living room while the other two yell and scream at each other in front of the stove. 

“I told you to watch the fucking pot!” One of them, a young guy still in gym clothes, gestures at the area of the kitchen now covered in black char.

The other, who looks as if he were napping before this ordeal, rolls his eyes. “It’s not my dinner, it’s not my responsibility! I left to smoke for like, two minutes, why was it hot enough to set our kitchen on fire?”

“It wasn’t when I left it!”

“Bullshit, because I didn’t touch it!”

Eddie steps between the two, holding his hands up to get them to stop yelling. His head hurts. “Alright, alright, I don’t think this is getting you guys anywhere, is it?”

“If my supposed best friend wasn’t so useless you wouldn’t even be here,” Gym Guy huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. He reminds Eddie of Buck, a little bit. 

“I’d be at another minor house fire, probably, because that’s my job,” Eddie points out, holding his hand out to take Gym Guy's bandaged arm, just to check it over. He’d tried to solve the problem himself, apparently, but they didn’t have any actual fire safety apparatus (likely because of thieves and parties, Eddie surmises) so he’d taken things into his own hands. Literally. “Best friend?”

He can feel Buck hovering behind him, talking to one of the housemates on the sofa about alerting their landlords to replace their extinguishers and fire blankets, ideally in a more locked-away place.

Other Guy laughs, almost bitterly. “Don’t act so surprised. We don’t normally hate each other.”

“Well, except when we met,” Gym Guy corrects, and apparently it’s funny enough for them to stop yelling at each other for the first time since the 118 had arrived on the scene, sorted the fire and relented into letting the antsy youngsters back in their house. 

“That was all you! I was trying to actually be your friend, and you’d decided the day we got assigned that project together that you hated me.” Other Guy argues back, but he’s laughing now, too. “You should’ve seen him. It was borderline embarrassing how childish he was being, but it was kind of entertaining, y’know?”

Eddie nods his head at the burn gel and bandage application and pushes down the urge to look wherever Buck’s gone. “Yeah, I do know.”

It’s the start of some shift in Buck’s attitude — but Eddie really can’t place what that change is.

They’re on the way back to the station when his comments start again, the ones that imply he’s better than Eddie, that push for Eddie to argue with him about it, except this time they’re missing their usual cutting edge. They’re not quite as harsh, but they’re still the same topics, so he hasn’t dropped it to suddenly be nice just because they’d bonded or something. 

Eddie can’t even decide if it’s shifted into friendlier ribbing or if it’s still just as harsh, and that Buck doesn’t just feel bad for possibly pushing too far. Somewhat desperately, he wishes he could cut into Buck’s brain and climb inside — to know everything he’s thinking so deeply, so intrinsically.

Instead, he has Buck making a snide comment at his expense when they hop out of the fire engine, and then not twenty minutes later includes Eddie in his coffee rounds for the first time ever. 

Eddie takes the hot drink hesitantly, half expecting it to be poisoned. Buck asks him exactly that, and Eddie doesn’t even know what to say before Buck skips off again to deliver Bobby’s coffee to his office.

He takes a careful sip and deflates. Extra hot latte with enough sugar to kill someone, exactly how Eddie orders it for himself. And he has no idea what to make of it — is it an apology? He has half a mind to text Buck and ask, but he doesn’t. It’s only the first handful of hours on shift together; many more to go. He’s sure he can figure it out himself.

Instead of spiraling over Buck again, Eddie takes his coffee over to the table where Chimney is shuffling a deck of cards. It takes his mind off of Buck’s odd behavior, thankfully enough that he’s completely distracted by the time they’re joined by Hen and Buck. 

They switch from Cheat to President, and by the fourth round Buck and Eddie have a heated rivalry between them.

Eddie, who is normally so terrible he typically refuses to ever play them, seems to have found the only card game he’s actually good at. Of the prior three rounds, he’s been Vice President twice and President once, opening up their fifth game requesting Buck’s two best cards. 

“Are you kidding me?” Buck hisses under his breath, sliding them face down across the table. He’s terrible at this, placing in the bottom two every single round and giving up his best cards to Eddie nearly every time. “You have to be cheating,”

“You can’t accuse me of cheating because I’m better than you, Buck.”

Buck huffs, actually huffs, and flips through his hand as the round starts.

“Isn’t that what he always does?” Chimney jokes. “7. Hen, your turn.”

But Eddie’s eyes are on Buck, whose face drops at the light joke. They all know Chimney hadn’t really meant it because Eddie’s certainly no better at this job than Buck is. Firefighting isn’t really a tier list of who’s better; it doesn’t really work that way. Eddie has the medic experience and a stock-calm attitude, but Buck has a useful recklessness and a burning passion Eddie is sure he's never encountered before, and has been at the 118 for more than Eddie’s mere five months. 

By the time the round is back at Buck, he’s smiling again, but it doesn’t completely reach his eyes. Something inside of Eddie’s mind finally clicks into place.

The rest of their shift is a comfortable level of busy. Eddie wins a few more rounds of President; then they’re on back-to-back calls for a few hours until they can crash out in the bunks for a while, more calls, Eddie reads a few chapters of his new historical fiction book, Bobby cooks dinner, more calls, and suddenly their shift is over. 

It only occurs to Eddie that Buck had never specified a day for the markets when he’s driving out of the LAFD parking lot. 

He’s tapping along to his Spotify (strictly dad rock outside of the playlist curated for driving with Chris, sue him) when he realizes, halting his fidgeting and breathing an audible ‘oh’. He’d been so wrapped up in observing Buck’s changes in behavior: the way he talks to Eddie now, in which ways it’s different and in which ways it’s exactly the same, how he responds to Eddie’s verbal barbs, his inclusion in their little inner circle.

There’d been so much to analyze that Eddie hadn’t really considered the origin of it all, not until the first red light on his route home. 

He’d even gotten a text from Carla the evening before, a picture of all of Chris’ completed pinecones for the Saturnalia decorations, and still hadn’t thought too much about the next step of party planning. 

So he re-jigs his plans, driving the shorter distance to the grocery store instead of his house, and texts Buck before heading to do his shopping. 

Today, 6:23 AM

To: Buck (work)

Hi Buck. You didn’t specify a day for the plans you mentioned, just checking in.

Buck doesn’t reply immediately, which Eddie has an internal battle about. He tries to convince himself that he doesn’t find it weird because it’s not weird. Twenty minutes off shift Buck would still be driving, an hour off shift he could’ve got home and crashed into bed, or even just decided to not reply to Eddie yet, just because he didn’t want to. 

Except Eddie does find it weird because Buck always replies immediately. Eddie’s made smug little comments before —likely the dad in him showing face— about how Buck spends way too much time on his phone. He’s always in the first few to reply to the work chat, and he’s only been a rapid replier since the whole Bobby/Saturnalia situation.

It’s enough to know that it’s definitely weird to not get a reply until much later in the day after he’s collected Chris from school and is in the middle of trying to not burn their dinner soup to the bottom of the pot (he would’ve felt awfully hypocritical, after that call the day before). 

And if semi-technophobe Eddie jumps to grab his phone when it buzzes on the counter, well, that’s no one's business. 

Today, 6:03 PM

From: Buck (work)

i was thinking saturday? 

To: Buck (work)

Saturday is perfect. Christopher’s really excited.

From: Buck (work)

tell him i am too!!!!!!

im making him a checklist for all the light animals

Hows his reptile knowledge?

To: Buck (work)

Spectacular. He’d give you a run for your money.

From: Buck (work)

how about i make us all dinner after? if u guys want?

Eddie just about drops his phone. He’s been stirring the soup absentmindedly while he texts, but the spoon drops into it and flicks orange up the backsplash. Christopher giggles loudly where he’s been otherwise distracted by his homework. 

To: Buck (work)

That would be amazing, if it’s not too much work for you

From: Buck (work)

no work at all

Any allergies or strong dislikes? 

except red cabbage

i know that one already

Buck cooks at the fire station with Bobby a lot, as sous chef or as a soloist on the occasional shift, so Eddie isn’t surprised that he remembers his extreme hatred for red cabbage. It still warms him though. 

To: Buck (work)

Chris will try to convince you that he’s allergic to broccoli … he isn’t 

From: Buck (work)

Seems suspicious

but if u insist

To: Buck (work)

Do you want me to bring anything?

From: Buck (work)

just my fav diaz in the whole wide world 

Christopher I mean. obviously

maybe a bottle of wine if yr feeling reeallyy crazy? :D

To: Buck (work)

Wine. Christopher (I’m just his Uber). Got it.

From: Buck (work)

See u saturday!!!!!!!!!

To: Buck (work)

We work together Buck.

From: Buck (work)

oops

see Christopher Saturday!!!! :D 

And u sooner :|

To: Buck (work)

I see how it is.

The rest of the week is unspectacular. Eddie’s shifts are shorter than his recent priors, which means he gets to spend time cuddled up with Christopher, watching Christmas movies in the evenings. Work is unspectacular also, but Eddie finds himself playing more card games with Chimney and Hen. He accidentally agrees to a small Christmas dinner with their core group at Bobby’s place and has no idea how that’s happened. 

On Saturday, Buck picks Eddie and Christopher up a little before lunchtime. He ushers them into the car and doesn’t comment on the sickly-sweet steaming latte in the cupholder on Eddie’s side, immediately pulling Christopher into a conversation about a documentary he’d just watched on a NASA field experiment (something about Mars?). 

Eddie doesn’t feel the need to interrupt — as if he could, anyway. Christopher is clinging onto every word and sharing his own fun facts where he can, which seems to be a trait they both have. Normally, Buck’s fun facts are more scattered across any and all topics, while Christopher is just a really smart kid who’s obsessed with specific topics. But when they both get stuck on specific things like this, it’s hard to get a word in edgeways. 

He doesn’t really mind, though. Buck talks to Christopher how he would anyone else, even though some of the subject matter gets a little technical and complicated at times. If Christopher doesn’t understand something, he’ll ask, and Buck will explain enthusiastically and check in to make sure Chris is following him along the way. Eddie wishes he could say that’s how everyone treats his kid, but it’s not. 

So he listens to their back and forth and smiles, drinking his coffee quietly, until he’s roped into the conversation too. 

“Did your dad tell you I’m cooking dinner for you guys tonight?” 

“Yes! What are we having? I can’t have broccoli, I’m allergic,” Chris tells him, confidently. Buck glances over at Eddie for just a second while they halt at a red light, and Eddie can’t hide the smile that matches Buck’s.

“Oh no, I was going to make us broccoli casserole… with a side of broccoli,” Christopher makes an eugh sound, and Buck laughs. “Okay, fine, no broccoli. But all I’m telling you is that it’s gonna be super tasty.”

“Anythings better than dads cooking,” Christopher says through a round of giggles. 

“Hey! I’m not that bad!”

Buck laughs loudly. “I won’t mention the pancakes from last weekend, then.” 

“They were black goo!” 

Eddie’s still watching Buck after that comment, any defense for himself dying on his lips because Buck is laughing harder than Eddie’s ever seen him laugh before. There’s even a shine to his eyes like he might start crying from it. 

Eddie’s eyes settle over the stretch of his mouth, the shine of the sun over his skin, the soft pink of his birthmark. The tightness in his chest is back, and it’s getting harder to ignore.

When they reach the markets, Buck parks as close to the entrance as he possibly can and takes Eddie’s backpack wordlessly, without complaint. It’s mostly empty, to fit anything they might buy in it, but it still makes that tightness stir up more. 

The markets are busy. A streetful of little wooden cabins filled with handcrafted decorations and gifts, others dedicated to festival-style food and hot beverages that would probably be far more appealing in snow-laden cities than an afternoon in Los Angeles.

Eddie’s immediately grateful that Buck had taken his bag, because he can hover in an overly protective manner behind Christopher in the crowded streets while they wander down the stalls, ready to sweep him off his feet the second he needs a break or it gets too busy. Eddie worries about his crutches getting knocked, and when he sees Buck gently push someone out of the way to take Christophers’ righthand side, he thinks he does too. 

“I still need to get my Secret Santa gift,” Eddie says, eyeing the more gift-orientated stalls. A $50 limit, department-wide Secret Santa whereupon Eddie had still randomly been appointed Bobby because God is cruel and harsh and wants to test him. “I’m a little worried about it. It has to be really good.”

Buck grins at him over Christophers’ head. “Did you get Bobby?”

Eddie splutters. “I’m not telling you, that ruins the whole thing,”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Buck teases, turning to eye up the gift stalls as well. Christopher is thoroughly entertained by the fully grown men wandering around in ridiculous costumes trying to shill cookies and hot cocoa in 50° weather. “I can help! I probably know Bobby the best out of anyone,”

Eddie thinks that's only half true because Bobby had been close with Hen and Chim before Buck started at the 118, but he has firsthand experienced their strange little pseudo-father-son dynamic, so he relents slightly. Bobby still intimidates him, even if he’s never been anything but warm and enthusiastically inclusive to Eddie. There’s still the underlying fear of a boss, because he hasn’t yet stepped into their inner circle beyond card games (and zoo lights trips), and the overwhelming fear of the captain of the most revered Los Angeles fire station. 

“I just want to make sure it’s actually good,” He sighs, steering Chris to the edge of the stream of people so they can deliberate their plan of action. “I still haven’t been at the station for that long. It’s just my luck I’d get the captain,”

Buck waves him off. “You’re weirdly nervous. He’s really not all that, you know? We’ll find something on the right side of personal and unique and keep it under the budget because, trust me, he can tell better than anyone else, and he’ll love it, and you’ll be the new favorite youngster of the 118.” Eddie is about to correct the youngster part (28, but he feels like he’s already in his 40s), but Buck keeps talking before he can. “Just kidding, you’re never taking that title from me. New favorite DILF of the 118, maybe?” 

Eddie gapes at him, thankful Christopher is still too busy giggling at the cookie salesman walking past in a six-foot candy cane costume to hear that. Buck grins. “Okay, Buckley, you can help.”

“Great! Hey Christopher, which of these stalls do you think we should go look at?”

Christopher turns to Buck to look at him very seriously. “All of them,”

“That's the best answer!"

They do, in fact, visit every stall at the market. Even the artisanal craft beer stall — Buck’s sister has been in LA for around five months and is a huge snob about IPAs, apparently. 

Buck also ends up having to buy a big paper bag when they run out of space in Eddie’s backpack, and eventually, the crowd gets thick enough that Buck settles Christopher on his side, one arm wrapped securely around his back. Eddie tucks Chris’s crutches into the side of his backpack, grinning when Buck justifies it all by claiming he now has a better vantage point to see over everyone. 

At some point, Eddie snags his paper bag full of their decorations, and when they reach a particularly thick part of the crowd, he feels Buck slip his arm into the crook of Eddie's elbow until they’re hooked together like a chain. He’s grateful for the business now, hiding his flushed cheeks when he ducks his head. 

They stay linked even when the crowd disperses. Eddie can't bring himself to complain about it.

In his head, he tries to justify it as necessary while they navigate the market. One moment they're in a small quartet of stalls separated from the main street, easily maneuverable with plenty of space, and the next they're back in the swarms — it's easier to just remain linked so as not to get caught out.

There's a buzzing in Eddie's stomach. It's becoming increasingly harder to ignore, like a persistent hum trying to claw its way out of his throat, the more Buck presses into his side, the longer the three of them remain wrapped around each other. A distant part of Eddie's mind wonders how many people have looked at them and so simply thought what a nice family before moving on

Christopher still tucked against his hip, Buck drags an extremely dizzy Eddie to a stall squeezed right at the end of the market avenue, fingers brushing over Eddie's bicep just momentarily. "You still with us? Because I think we've hit a jackpot,"

Eddie blinks himself awake, heavy eyelids dragging against bright winter sun, settling on the stall in front of them. It's a small wooden cabin-style, just like every other stall at this market, emulating the feel of those European / German markets Eddie always sees in the best holiday movies.

This one, seemingly run by the woman tucked into the far-back corner, knitting away, is filled with delicately carved personalised olive wood charcuterie boards and a plethora of other small pots and crockery.

"Wow," Eddie breathes, stepping forward and pulling his pseudo-family chain with him. He can feel when Buck huffs a laugh, his hot breath hitting Eddie's jaw where he's turned to watch his expression. "Wow, Buck, these are perfect,"

"Told you it wouldn't be too hard,"

Eddie turns to look at him, all of his pale skin and sharp white canines and that flushed-pink birthmark and those eyes, and all he can do is nod.

Trying to salvage some form of secrecy for the gift exchange, Eddie reluctantly ushers Buck off to the candy stall next to them so he can pick out what he wants to buy for Bobby. Despite the Los Angeles warmth, he still feels a chill when Buck peels away from his side and settles Christopher down to lead the way.

It isn't until Buck and Christopher are completely out of sight that Eddie can turn away from them.

Picking out Bobby's gift is surprisingly easy, even with the wide variety of kitchenware in front of him. He settles on the gorgeous olive wood live edge charcuterie board that's accompanied by a magnetic stand, family carved intricately into the bottom corner of the board, so small it's almost missable.

He requests the gift wrapping because he's never been particularly good at it himself, eyes scanning over the hung-up ornaments on the side wall, mugs and jugs filled with carved utensils. Just as the stall vendor calls his attention, his eyes snag on two shallow mugs, one slightly smaller than the other, Head Chef and Sous Chef carved across the front of each. Grinning wickedly, he snags them both and turns back to the vendor. "Actually, could I get these wrapped, too?"

By the time Eddie tracks Buck and Christopher down, they've managed to move away from the candy that had seemingly not kept them entertained long enough. They're both hovering awkwardly between stalls, both giggling erratically when Eddie appears to them through the crowd.

It's hard not to smile at the matching wicked grins on their faces, the lasting effects of whatever mischief or joke he clearly missed. "What are you two giggling about?"

"It's our secret," Christopher sticks his tongue out through his teeth, still smiling wide, and Eddie laughs softly, shifting the gift bags in his hands so he can ruffle his kid's hair.

"Alright, alright, keep your secrets. You guys wanna get out of here?"

They get back to Buck's jeep with ease, all three of them buzzing with the holiday joy that Christmas markets always seem to bring, tucking into the hot pretzels they grabbed on the way out.

Buck and Christopher devour theirs, far more focused on their plan for navigating the LA Zoo Lights experience, while Eddie picks away at his in the passenger seat, eyes stuck on Buck as he drives. It goes unnoticed, thankfully, with Buck's own attention cutting between the road and flicking up to the rear-view mirror at stop lights so he can engage with Christopher, which means Eddie can stare away unashamedly.

He's finding it hard to move past that full-bodied hum he'd felt the whole time Buck's arm had been linked through his, the sight of this admittedly gorgeous man paying so much attention to Eddie's kid, making sure both Eddie and Christopher are safe and together in the crowds. chauffeuring them around LA and strategizing whole days out.

On a low level, Eddie has always been aware of his attraction to Buck. It's pretty difficult to ignore, particularly in the face of an impending divorce and sly comments from your own wife that you might actually be gay, as well as, well… Buck. Of course, he's beautiful.

He's tall and thick, more muscled than he had been even a few months ago, dotted with tattoos from a time passed by, and hiding every ounce of his personality behind the need to compete for his place with Eddie. It still stings that Eddie knows they could probably be friends in another life, good friends, even in their now tentative relationship.

Of course, he's always found Buck attractive; he's just always tried to ignore it. It had been particularly easy before the Saturnalia planning because Buck had, admittedly, always acted like such a brat that any physical attraction had been buried under irritation. But now, with the teasing shifting to something more fond, Eddie's finding that attraction hard to bury. Now, watching Buck listen intently to everything Christopher is saying, he wonders if it's tangled up with something else. Something more than physicality.

It isn't as if Eddie had planned on being single forever, but it hasn't been long since Shannon had disappeared from their lives again and blown his open just before, so he hasn't really had time to consider it. Hell, he hasn't even said the word out loud yet. It isn't high on his list of priorities.

But now, eyes dragging slowly over the shape of Buck's mouth, he wishes he had. He wishes he'd gone to a bar or tried out a dating app, met someone handsome and kind that could've prevented his mind from watching Evan Buckley and aching to get him to watch back.

It's just Eddie's luck, because he knows exactly how this ends.

The party will come and go, Bobby will allow them to stay on the team, and maybe Buck will go back to hating him (only quieter), or maybe Buck will just ignore his presence completely, and this time, Eddie will sway into his atmosphere with the first-hand experience of what it feels like to be treated kindly by him. He knows what it's like to have Buck's attention now, in a way that isn't just with acerbity, and he knows what the pads of Buck's fingertips feel like tracing over his skin.

Eddie inhales sharply, forcing himself to turn away and look out into the LA smog. At least if he expects it, it'll hurt less.

Christopher is practically buzzing with energy by the time they pull into their parking spot at the zoo, passes handed to them through the car window, lanyards slung around their necks. If Buck notices Eddie's subdued attitude, he doesn't mention it.

The zoo is packed. Predictably, as it is one of the city's biggest holiday events, though Eddie hadn't really considered Buck swining close to lock their arms together again until it's already happened. Momentarily, he considers pulling away, making some dry joke so that Buck doesn't try it again, but the self-torturing part of himself wants to cling onto every last moment of this that he can. He presses closer, squeezes his arm around Buck's, sinking his teeth into the soft inside flesh of his cheek when Buck hums lowly at the contact.

The lights are incredible. They serve as a fantastic distraction, bright and kaleidoscopic in color, their grandeur enough to stun Christopher to silence, blinking his big blue eyes up at them in shock. Eddie's heart aches at the sight, fingers immediately reaching for his phone to try and snap a subtle picture, to capture the moment — only to hear the shutter sound right beside him a second before his own goes off.

He glances at Buck, a thin smile on his face, to catch the sheepish look on Buck's. "Guess we had the same idea,"

"He is the cutest kid in the world," Eddie murmurs, "Trust me, I get it."

Eddie has to usher them on after that, stuck in their bewilderment at the very first display, each of the next grander than the other. Christopher and Buck spend a particularly long time staring up at the glowing tigers perched atop light-up rocks, trying to one-up each other with the most absurd tiger facts they can conjure. Eddie hangs back, chest cleaved open, taking as many pictures as he can before either of them notices.

After the final tunnel of lights and nearly two hours later, the display comes to an end. Eddie would be shocked that Christopher isn't begging for them to go back through and look at everything again if he hadn't caught his falling eyelids twenty minutes ago, having taken more than enough pictures on both Buck and Eddie's phones to show off to his classmates on Monday.

He even allows Eddie to pick him up and set him against his hip without any complaints, sleepily tucking his head into Eddie's shoulder as they round their way back to the exit, Buck's arm slipping back through Eddie's in a smooth move that makes it seem like he's reaching for the crutches, only to remain there once he's passed them off to his other hand.

Even Buck is yawning as they navigate their way through the exit, a few families dotted around. Eddie's too focused on watching his slow blinks to notice the woman next to them approaching, jumping out of his skin when she speaks.

"Hi! Sorry to interrupt, did you guys want a family pic in front of the sign?"

Sleep-addled, Eddie has to blink at her a few times before he turns to where she's pointing, Buck already halfway through a fumbled excuse when Eddie cuts him off. "That would be amazing, thank you," he says, squeezing Buck's arm where it's half way through slipping out of his, dragging him closer again. "Right, Buck?"

Buck is staring at him, wide eyed and mouth agape, before he nods slowly. "Right,"

Eddie manages to wake Christopher up enough to set him on the floor again, stood in front of himself and Buck with both of their hands on either of his shoulders, arms linked, all three of them stood in front of the final display; an almost unmissable pair of broad, bright, glittering rainbow wings spanning out from either side of the LA Zoo Lights sign.

Despite Buck's nervous shuffling, he doesn't say anything. They get through a few rounds of pictures (this woman is very thorough, and her photography skills are definitely up-to-par) before Eddie's phone is handed back to him and they resume their walk back to the car, only now Buck is glued a little tighter to his side.

The embarrassment catches up with Eddie as soon as he's back in the passenger seat, the sleepy atmosphere filled in by the Christmas songs playing quietly through the jeep's speakers. Had Buck really not wanted to be in those photos with Eddie? Had he tried to pull away and felt too bad to say no when Eddie didn't let him?

Stomach twisting with anxiety, Eddie glances into the rearview mirror. Thankfully, Christopher is asleep. He keeps his voice quiet anyway. "If you're too tired, you really don't have to cook for us. I'm sure I have something in the freezer. It's been a long day."

For just a second, the sharp blue of Buck's eyes settles on him before they drift back to the road, too quick to detangle whatever complicated web of emotion lies behind them. "I don't mind. Besides, I promised Christopher."

"I'm sure he'll survive," Eddie says, even though he'd never break a promise he made to his son, and he highly doubts Buck ever would either. Even just in this short amount of time, Eddie knows that a promise means something to Buck.

"Do you not want me there?"

"Not if you don't want to be there."

Buck sighs, sharp and exasperated and angry, the exact same way that Shannon had when she'd been completely exhausted with Eddie's distant demeanor in those months before she'd fled Texas. But this is different — there's no fresh wounds on Eddie's body for him to blame his snappiness on, and Buck isn't his wife. He isn't even his friend. "I wouldn't be offering if I didn't, Eddie."

"I just don't want you to feel obligated to do something just because you promised him. He can take it if you don't want to."

"But I do," Buck snaps, not unkindly, not harsh, but more like he doesn't know how to hold it in any longer. He sighs, rubbing his knuckles across the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. "I'm sorry, it's just like you don't realize… It's like you don't understand that maybe people just want to treat you guys sometimes, and it's not out of pity or because they think you need help, it's really, genuinely just because they want to."

Eddie stares at the side of Buck's face, the pink tint of his cheeks under the orange glow in his jeep, the streetlights outside backlighting the slope of his nose, the highpoints of his cheekbones, the soft curls of his hair. He looks stunning. Eddie looks away.

"Okay. You can come in."

Eddie is the one to wake Christopher, quietly jostling him and then settling his sleepy body against his hip to carry him into the house. He even manages to hold back his protests when Buck gathers up all of their bags without a mention.

Christopher stirs awake by the time they're inside, too excited by the idea of his best friend Buck staying for dinner, reinvigorated by that energy only children under ten manage to summon out of nowhere, even despite pure exhaustion.

Eddie lifts him onto the kitchen counter, making sure he's settled back far enough that he won't slip, so Buck can give him smaller tasks to help out with cooking their meal. He has Christopher crush up all of their herbs and spices in the mortar and pestle and guides his small hands into peeling the carrots, careful not to let the blade slip in his fingers, while Eddie watches them from the doorway.

He can't bring himself to step over the threshold of the kitchen. The two of them are in this sweet bubble, and he can't bear the idea of shattering it, ruining their quiet sanctimonium. They haven't been in Los Angeles long, but Eddie is certain he hasn't seen Christopher this happy in years.

At some point, while Buck is letting Christopher sprinkle the rest of their herb mix over the chicken, he glances up to the doorway and catches Eddie's eye. His smile doesn't waver or stutter; it grows. A soft tug at his lips that breaks into a wide grin, cheeks red and curls unruly from the warmth of the oven. A flash of teeth, and Eddie feels his whole stomach drop, turning away so he doesn't have to look at the sight anymore.

Finding Buck hot had been one thing. Quietly yearning for his friendship had been another, no matter how embarrassing it had been to admit to himself. But this full-blown attraction, the kind that makes his bones ache, and his skin itch, and his heart feel like it's physically constricting every time Buck looks at him for too long, it's too much.

Dinner follows the same soft, quiet warmth the day has brought upon them. Buck and Christopher are very proud of their meal, a trial run of a few dishes they'll be cooking for the party, with the meager ingredients Eddie already had in the house that still turn out exceptional.

They eat slowly with quiet conversation, not enough energy in any of them to summon up many words. Even Christopher seems far too subdued now, dragging himself off to bed after a hug with Buck and a promise from Eddie that he'll be in to say goodnight soon.

It leaves just the two men at the dinner table, plates stacked neatly in the centre. Eddie feels oddly choked up, eyes stinging like he's on the verge of crying, but he can't even place why. He tilts his face down to the table, basking in the uncomfortable silence, swallowing against the sharp feeling in the base of his throat.

He nearly jumps at the soft touch on his arm, fleeting for only a second before the fingers pull away and settle against the table again. "Are you okay?"

Eddie blinks, teeth sinking into the soft flesh of his cheek. "Yeah, I'm good,"

"I didn't mean to push you earlier. I really am sorry,"

"You didn't," Eddie swears, quick to cut right into the end of the sentence, breathy and desperate. "I promise. I'm sorry I was acting weird, I think I'm just tired. I really appreciate you doing this. Well, all of this, the whole day."

Buck smiles up at him, softly. He opens his mouth to speak before he hesitates and that soft look disappears. When he clears his throat, Eddie knows he isn't going to say what he was thinking. "So, the party is next weekend."

"Right," Eddie nods.

"I was thinking we should probably do the cooking the day before, as much as we can. Bobby said he'd help keep the dishes hot on the day so we can relax a little bit, but even then, I think it's too much for me, you, and Chris. Maybe we should recruit some help?"

"I can ask Karen," Eddie suggests, digging his nails into his jeans to stop himself from asking what he really wants to know.

Buck nods, pulling out his phone. Eddie immediately mourns the weight of his attention. "I can text Maddie and May, they'll both be around. I'm sure some of the rest of the team will be too."

It hits Eddie now that he's already had his last day like this with Buck. This is the end of it right now, with averted eyes and glaring phone screens. Next weekend, they'll be cooking with the others, and then the party will pass, and so will the tentative partnership they've formed these past few weeks.

He doesn't even get a day to operate under the assumption of it being his last moments to convince Buck to stay, because they've already passed. That's why he's already been frozen out from the moment Christopher left the dinner table.

Eddie is so tired. He doesn't have the will to fight.

"Um, I should probably head to bed. Shift tomorrow," He says, as if Buck won't be working the same hours. At least Eddie will have the morning hours to prepare himself for the shift back to their regular interactions.

"Yeah, yeah, it's been a long day, I'll just," Buck points behind him with his thumb awkwardly, hovering for a moment before he pushes out from his chair to stand up.

Eddie follows him to the door, both of them moving in quiet tandem, chest squeezing when Buck stops just a step outside of the house. They both hesitate. Eddie is leaning against the open door, and Buck has his hand curled around the frame, both of them silent and staring.

"I had a really good day with both of you," Buck says earnestly. Eddie must be hallucinating the stress put on 'both', just out of his own hopefulness. "Seriously. Christopher is a great kid, and you…"

The sentence trails off there, but Eddie allows it to hang in the air for a moment. He can at least hope that it'll go somewhere. "Thanks, Buck. For everything."

He wants to say everything. He wants to say that he's thankful for how kind Buck has been, how patient even though Eddie is a total mess, how inclusive he is of Christopher, and how much more he's done for them than he realizes in making their first Christmas without their whole family special. At the very least, he hopes Buck will infer some of it.

It's unclear if he does. Buck gives him another nod and a tight smile before he turns away, neither of them bothering to say goodbye. Eddie watches him walk the whole length of the drive back to his jeep before he closes the door.

Once it's latched shut, locked from the inside, he drops his forehead against the frosted glass. Fifty feet away, Buck mimics his actions and presses his head against the steering wheel until it hurts.

The week leading up to Christmas is, by far, always the busiest for a firehouse.

This year, Christmas lands on a Monday. The party is scheduled for Christmas Eve Sunday, as organised with as many RSVP as they could get on the 118 Slack channel, and their feast construction on Saturday.

In hindsight, Eddie probably should've argued to move the party back a day. Twenty-two hours into their first shift of the week, he's already itching with the inescapable proximity to Buck.

Things aren't entirely different — since their partnership smoothed over from that very first meeting, Buck has been a lot more docile. He teases in a friendly way, not in a cold way, and he doesn't purposefully exclude Eddie from coffee runs and UNO games as if they're high schoolers.

Despite not backsliding from there, Eddie notices how much more withdrawn Buck is being immediately. It's barely noticeable, likely the only reason it's not mentioned by Hen or anyone else on the team, but Eddie notices.

Buck will only throw barbs his way if he does something objectively stupid or embarrassing, like tripping up the loft stairs to get to Bobby's famous lasanga eighteen hours in, or falling asleep sitting up in the bunks with an open book in his lap and a cold cup of herbal tea on the floor beside him. Before, he'd dig for any excuse to tease Eddie. Now, Eddie wonders if he should start tripping on purpose.

He's not generally quieter, but he won't speak to Eddie unless something calls for it. He maintains perfect professionalism on calls (which isn't a new development, but still jarringly different than their interactions before Bobby had set up his whole party scheme), asks for Eddie to reach for things in the kitchen if he's closer, doesn't shy away from talking to him during card games. Other than that, there's nothing.

Eddie has no idea how to get his attention back. He doesn't want the genuine animosity that Buck had directed to him before, but he's already missing the last two weeks of warm familiarity they'd worked their way towards.

He wonders if he should play dirty when Christopher calls him before his bedtime during their shift, Eddie settled in the bunks, and Buck on the other side of the room, headphones in his ears. He decides to move to the roof instead.

It's not as if Eddie can even say anything. 'Hey Buck, I'm just wondering why you're talking to me completely normally but a little bit less than before, what gives?' Eddie is an adult, and he's old enough to know that he isn't entitled to someone liking him just because they spent a little bit of time together.

After their first shift, he collapses into bed and sleeps until he needs to pick Christopher up from school, where he has to awkwardly explain that Buck isn't hanging out with them today because he has plans.

There's nothing Eddie hates more than lying to his son, but he doesn't know what else to say. They have their final day of prep booked in already, so he can sate Christopher for now by telling him they'll have all of Saturday to hang out with Buck, but what's he supposed to say afterwards?

During his 48 off, Christopher comes home from school with a stack of Christmas cards. Predictably, there's one for himself, for Abuela and Tia Pepa, one for his parents that he'll have to drop in the mail on the way to work, one for the 118 firehouse, and a seperate one for Buck.

Eddie feels pathetic opening it up in his truck before their shift, sitting in the firehouse parking lot and tracing the childlike handwriting with his finger.

Dear Best Friend Buck. Eddie feels sick reading the words. Maybe it would've been better if he'd never let them hang out at all; He can stomach his own heartache, but he's not sure he can stomach Christopher's.

During breakfast, he hands the 118 card to Bobby and feels his cheeks ache with his smile as they all read and coo over it, Bobby immediately magnetizing it to the fridge. As they all split to do their morning chores, he stops Buck with a hand on his arm and hands the other one over without a word. He walks away before he can see Buck's face.

The end of their 24 comes quickly. The calls are rampant this time of year, and Eddie can only imagine how much worse it is in an area where there are actual concerns, such as ice and snow. Los Angeles only offers violent shoppers and two-timing fiancés.

He's exhausted by the end of it, but still makes sure to give a proper goodbye to the team, rolling his eyes good-naturedly at the remarks from Chimney about their 'disaster party'.

The smile and gentle clap on the shoulder from Bobby as Eddie is leaving tells him everything he needs to know about the man's predictions of how the party will turn out, which soothes at least some of his anxieties.

Friday night helps. Christopher and Eddie spend the night watching holiday movies and wrapping their gifts together, Eddie having to withstand an inordinate amount of teasing from his own seven-year-old about his wrapping abilities. They watch Elf and Klaus, which Eddie definitely does not get teary-eyed at, and then he has to read Christopher a story to settle his excitement for the following day.

"The sooner you sleep, the sooner you'll get to see Buck," He promises, smoothing the green forest bedsheets over Christopher's legs, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. The countdown for Christopher is out of pure excitement, but for Eddie, it feels like impending doom.

By the time he falls asleep, his phone dropped on the pillow beside him, he's read through their entire text chain three times over.

Eddie wakes up two hours earlier than necessary. He'd realised the night before that he and Buck had never actually decided on a time for Buck to come over, but he assumes it'll be no earlier than midday — and certainly not at five in the morning, the Saturday two days before Christmas.

He might not know Buck too well personally, but he knows that he has Maddie to think about, and by extension Chimney, as well as the rest of the team. He's not sure about their family outside of the firehouse because he's never really heard Buck mention anyone, but he's certain there must be other people taking up his time.

That's why he's decently suprised when Buck texts him at eight o'clock asking what he and Christopher want for breakfast. It's the first personal exchange they've had in days, and it has Eddie hesitating with his thumbs hovering over the keyboard, burning scrambled egg on the pan in front of him.

He blinks down at the charcoal edges and switches the heat off, thumbs flying across the screen.

Christopher ambles out of bed just before nine, thankfully excited enough to chatter away about their day plans with Eddie that he doesn't realize there's no breakfast being made, just Eddie hovering in different corners of the kitchen, checking all their pots and pans are clean and accessible, making and remaking the coffee pot whenever he gets antsy.

Christopher immediately brightens when their doorbell rings at quarter past nine.

He doesn't sat anything, listening when Eddie tells him to stay put, but Buck's loud rambling is surely enough to indicate who their early morning visitor is.

"Sorry I took so long, I wanted to make sure we had absolutely everything we could possibly need for today but that meant three different grocery stores as well as a trip to the bakery, which apparently doesn't even open until nine," Buck shakes his head, holding out the cardboard carrier of three steaming hot drinks before Eddie can say a thing.

Eddie isn't even sure how he made it from his jeep to the front door, with the ridiculous amount of shopping bags hooked over every inch of his arms.

"You aren't late," Eddie laughs softly, stepping aside to let Buck through before he drops anything. He snags the box from under Buck's arm, the familiar print of the bakery enticing him. "We never actually agreed on a time, so I just kind of assumed you'd be here around 12."

"Oh," Buck turns, comically panicked with his flushed red cheeks, his hair a total mess and the paper bags straining to stay together. "I didn't interrupt you guys, did I?"

Eddie chuckles, urging Buck to move to the kitchen before Christopher decides to run him down out here. "No, Buck, you didn't. You saved me from feeding my kid burnt eggs."

"He did?" Christopher asks, already grinning by the time they make it through the door. He eyes the box in Eddie's hands, equally as quick to recognise the patterning on the side.

"I thought you guys deserved a festive breakfast," Buck shrugs, failing to hide his grin as he lines all of his paper bags up on the counter. Somehow, Eddie doubts that's all of the groceries. "We have a lot today, so we need the fuel. Cups in the holder have our names on them. I hope you like hot chocolate, Christopher. I got you a peppermint mocha, Eds."

Eddie flushes at the nickname, hand hovering over the cup with the same thing written in Buck's messy handwriting. He snaps himself out of it long enough to pass the drinks out, not entirely sure if the warmth in his chest is from the contents of the drink or the action of having it ordered for him.

They divide the box of pasteries up as they always do, and Eddie has to remind himself that this is allowed. It's a special occasion, so he can enjoy these frivolous things, and these warm moments, basking in quiet contentment while Christopher catches Buck up on his week.

"Alright, you slackers, I think it's time we get to work," Eddie says, long after they'd finished their breakfasts, content to live in this moment forever. "You got any more of those bags in the jeep, Buck?"

"You know it," Buck grins, standing and ruffling a hand in Christopher's hair. He collects the cardboard cups and the half-finished box of pastries, clearing the table. "Why don't you wash your hands while your dad and I grab the last bits, okay?"

Christopher grins, jumping up immediately with a haste that still makes Eddie inch closer. "Okay!"

It's the fastest Eddie has ever seen him voluntarily move to wash his hands, but he won't complain. He just laughs and follows Buck outside to gather the last of the bags (there's a lot, and definitely more than just three grocery stores).

Today serves as the meal prep day for all of the reheatable dishes. Anything else will be made by either Buck or Bobby tomorrow (like the central meats of chicken, turkey, and beef. They had tried to say that was too much, but Bobby had insisted after the amount of effort the two of them had put in).

The first portion of the day is easy. Buck turns the kitchen into a conveyor belt of ingredients, dividing up all of Eddie's pots, pans, and bowls, along with some he'd brought with him from home. He instructs them on which ingredients go in which bowls and makes sure both of them are cutting and dicing correctly.

Mostly, he guides Christopher's hands again, like they had the previous weekend, to make sure he doesn't cut himself. When Eddie completely decimates a carrot with his less-than-poor skills, he has to hold his breath the entire time Buck stands behind him to guide him the same way, fingers wrapped over his own.

At noon, their efforts are joined by Karen, Maddie and May. They've managed to get through a majority of the vegetables needed for various dishes, which means Buck has them divided up for the next step on various dishes. He's running the kitchen like it's the navy, but Eddie finds it wholly entertaining.

Christopher is assigned to making the chestnut and cranberry stuffing balls with Buck leading example on the pork, sage, and onion stuffing balls beside him, situated over on the counter by the oven.

May and Karen are instructed to jump between the various dips and sauces Buck has handwritten recipes for, and running reconnaissance on helping the others when he can't.

Sitting at the kitchen table beside Eddie, Maddie is glazing carrots and parsnips while he wraps pigs in blankets — Buck had told him it was practically impossible to mess up, which had Christopher laughing so hard he nearly toppled off the chair pulled up to the counter.

Eddie hooks up his phone to the speakers to play Christmas music lowly and sits back, allowing Buck to turn his kitchen into a mess.

Despite working alongside both Buck and Chimney, Eddie hasn't actually spoken to Maddie beyond polite greetings before. Usually, it's only if she drops by the firehouse, since he's managed to dodge every invitation to their plans outside of the firehouse for months now.

Surprisingly, they seem to get along incredibly well. It starts with Eddie watching the way Buck interacts with Christopher, the way he helps him create the stuffing mix and shape the balls, lining them up on Eddie's biggest baking tray. Maddie catches him.

"He's really good with kids," She says, and Eddie flushes red at being caught. It doesn't sound like she's reassuring him not to worry over Christopher, but stating something they both know well.

Eddie hums, cheeks pink when he glances away. "He took us to the markets and the zoo lights last weekend. Christopher loved it,"

"I saw the pictures," Maddie grins, her elbow knocking into his purposefully. Somehow, it feels like light teasing. Eddie is too busy wondering what Buck had said about their day out to her.

The conversation diverges from just the topic of Buck as they work. As it turns out, Maddie is actually a lot cooler than her brother.

She, like Eddie, is the older sibling and had been key in raising Buck when he was younger. She also has the exact same GoodReads list as Eddie.

"I'm not sure how I feel about you two getting along so well," Buck says when he stops by their table to see how they're getting along, hovering just behind Eddie's shoulder. He hums, leaning over to inspect Eddie's work, his warm stomach pressed right against the back of Eddie's shoulder. "These look good,"

Eddie swallows, throat suddenly dry. "I'm just wrapping bacon around sausage,"

"And you're doing a wonderful job," Buck replies, sounding awfully like he's trying to flirt. To their side, Maddie dry heaves, and Eddie turns embarrassingly red. Buck squeezes the back of his neck when he walks off to check on Christopher, leaving Eddie speechless for a solid half a minute. Maddie mercifully leaves him be.

A while later, the new probie of the 118 shows up to help out with the final dishes and the baking stage. And if Eddie thought Buck had been intense before, it's nothing compared to how he is once they start baking.

The kitchen is turned into a warzone. Things are tucked away into the fridge or freezer, some on the dining table in Eddie's living room for Buck to take to his own, and the countertops of the kitchen are lined with the basic ingredients for any baked goods. At the edges are more specfic ingredients, and the table is scattered with the washed and dried mixing bowls.

Christopher settles in next to Eddie, the two of them taking the jobs of cutting and decorating the sugar cookies. Buck stops by to check in on them periodically, decorating a few of his own when Christopher insists that he must. This task is one Eddie can do, almost hypnotic as he repeats swirling patterns and small snowflakes again and again and again, eyes fixed on wherever Buck is.

They call it quits around 4, when Athena drops by to collect May and Ravi claims he has much more important things to be doing all day. Maddie and Karen stay to help clean up and Eddie coaxes them to the backyard porch for a glass of wine while Buck packs whatever he's taking home back into the jeep.

Eventually, Buck joins them. Christopher is inside on his computer which means Eddie can relax, flushed red when Buck's attention is immediately on him as soon as he steps out onto the porch.

He blinks away and laughs where he needs to when Maddie starts telling stories about the younger, impossibly more reckless Buck that she'd raised, the one before the grown Buck sitting in front of them and hiding his face behind his hands. Eddie can still see how wide he's smiling from the shape of his cheeks.

"You know," Karen whispers quietly, leaning into Eddie's space. He turns to her, eyebrows raised. "I think you passed the Maddie and May test. Sister-approved, and we know you've already got the psuedo-dad approval."

"What?"

Karen rolls her eyes playfully, nudging his arm with her own. "I know Eddie. You're not subtle at all,"

He flushes, sharp heat flaring in his stomach, desperate to escape her knowing gaze. Instead, his eyes land on Buck, who's already watching him with a smile on his lips. For a moment, he lets himself hope.

After the wine, Eddie follows the three of them out to the front yard to say goodnight. Buck is driving both of them home, as the only one who had a single glass of wine, with a final reminder of the time Eddie has to be at Bobby and Athena's place in the morning.

Unlike the previous weekend, Eddie isn't hit with the same moroseness when he heads back inside. He makes dinner for himself and Christopher, cojoles his son into another Christmas movie, and manages to fall asleep on time. In the morning he lets Carla in, packs up his car with all of the food assembled yesterday and starts his drive a whole twenty minutes early.

It seems Buck had the same idea, his jeep already parked outside when Eddie arrives.

Bobby is out with a travel mug of coffee for Eddie as soon as he's parked, assisting in ferrying the trays from his truck to the kitchen where Buck has already started warming things and checking things off his list.

With Buck and Bobby in charge of the food, Athena offers to help Eddie's efforts with setting up the decorations in the backyard. They have a perfect garden for it, exactly as the images on Buck's Pinterest board had imagined, trees that act as stone pillars to hook wreaths and string lights from, a fold-out kitchen table they'll use for all the food that Eddie scatters with holly and pinecones, some of them being hooked into the frames of doorways.

Bobby already has the homemade carnival games set up in one of the corners of the garden, but Eddie still takes his time to rearrange them as he pleases, unaware of the fond laughter Athena lets out whenever he stressfully tells her to move and move back certain pieces over and over again.

The kitchen is in full swing when Athena practically drags him back inside, Buck and Bobby adorned in matching red tartan aprons that has Eddie's heart twisting in his chest.

"Your boy was very particular about the set-up outside, so I wouldn't move anything if I were you," Athena says, squeezing Eddie's arm as she moves past him to kiss Bobby on the cheek. It takes Eddie ten seconds to realize that she was speaking to Buck, not Bobby, and flushes pink when he does.

"Only with your express permission," Buck promises, grinning over at him.

Eddie has to head back home once he's triple-checked they don't need his help, connecting his phone to the trucks bluetooth speaker before the door's even shut. Thankfully, both Adriana and Sophia pick up on the first ring.

"Is this an early Christmas FaceTime, or do you need something?" Adriana asks in lieu of a greeting. Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling away from the curb.

"Can it not be both?"

Sophia laughs. "Out with it, Edmundo."

Biting his lip, Eddie wonders if this is really how he wants to do this — over the phone, panicked and desperate as to what to do, right before the holidays. He doesn't expect them to react badly; he knows they won't, but he suddenly finds words hard to grasp.

"Eddie?" Sophia prompts him again, softer this time. The gentleness of it, the muted background sounds that indicate both of his sisters have moved somewhere more private, has his eyes stinging with tears. He turns off the road nearly as quickly as he'd turned onto it, pulling into the parking lot behind a Starbucks drive-thru.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

"I'm gay," He says, fingers curled around the steering wheel so tight it hurts. "I knew before I moved. Christopher knows, but no one else does. I wanted you two to know before I told anyone else."

"Oh, Eddie. I am so proud of you,"

He laughs, quiet and soft and broken, rubbing a hand over his face.

"And you're happy?" Adriana asks. He swallows around the sharpness in his throat.

"Yeah, I am. I'm really happy."

"Well, that's the most important thing," Sophia says earnestly, so blunt and immovable that Eddie has to wonder why he'd even been nervous to begin with. He loves the both of them so much, and he knows they love him just the same. He knows that, as he would for them, they'd stand in front of anyone who would dare to hurt him. "But I do have to ask…"

Eddie laughs again, but this time it's far more genuine. "Go on,"

"Is there a reason you panic called us on Christmas Eve morning? Is there someone we should be expecting to see in your holiday pics?"

"Um," eddie says, eloquently. Adriana gasps.

"Oh my god! There is!"

"No, no, it's really not like that," Eddie insists, cutting them off. When he catches his own eye in the rearview mirror, his entire face has already coloured red and there's a ridiculous smile on his face that's making his cheeks ache. "We haven't… we aren't even…"

"But you want to, right?" Adriana asks, her voice clearer like she's leaning right up close to her phone, like they're back in El Paso sharing secrets at a sleepover. It makes Eddie's chest ache with how much he misses them. Next year, he'll pay for their flights so they can spend Christmas with him and Christopher.

"I do," Eddie admits. "But it really is complicated. He used to completely hate me, and it's only because of this stupid party planning thing that he's warmed up a little, but after this, he'll probably go back to being the total asshole that-"

"It's Buck?!" Sophia practically shouts. Eddie winces at the volume, laughter bubbling from his stomach. "Oh, I totally should've called this months ago. Woe be me, why does my coworker hate me? I keep trying to get his attention, but it only works when I act like a total brat to piss him off. You're so obvious! You were pulling his pigtails!"

"I was— I was not!" Eddie defends desperately. On the line, he can hear both of them laughing at him.

"But he's nice now?" Adriana prompts him on, though he can still here the teasing smirk in her voice.

"Yeah, he's— he's kind of amazing," Eddie admits, tone dropping again. "He includes Christopher in everything, so now Christopher is totally obsessed with him. They spent a whole day making the carnival games together, and last weekend Buck took us to the markets and the LA Zoo Lights afterwards. He cooked dinner."

"I'm sorry, you said that last part kind of quietly, he cooked you dinner afterwards?" Sophia asks, incredulously.

Eddie huffs out a laugh. "Yes. He cooked us dinner afterwards."

"You're such an idiot," Adriana says. Eddie is slightly taken aback, letting out a small offended 'um?' at the insult. Usually, Adriana is the gentler of the two, Sophia taking charge on absolutely roasting him whenever she possibly can. "He was taking you on dates."

"He definitely wasn't," Eddie replies immediately, unable to even look himself in the eye anymore. Instead, he slowly backs out of the parking lot, feeling safer to drive now that the hard part is done. He does have a party to get to, after all. "Christopher was there for all of them, and he was only there because he had to be."

"Except he didn't have to be. You guys could've ordered decorations instead of making them, and you said it yourself — Christopher loves him. Clearly he loves Christopher too."

"Plus," Sophia adds while Eddie is still processing those words, his brain turning slowly. "He took you guys to LA Zoo and then cooked you dinner afterwards. I'm sorry, am I crazy or did he absolutely not have to do that?"

"He was just," Eddie cuts himself off, chewing the inside of his lip for a second. "Yeah, okay, sure. Him and Chris get along amazingly. He loves kids. That doesn't mean it was for me."

"I seriously wonder how I'm related to someone so stupid sometimes," Sophia mutters, just loud enough to be heard. Eddie chooses not to rise to rise to her insults, only partially because he doesn't think he was supposed to hear it.

"Then see how the actual party goes," Adriana suggests. "He has no obligation to spend any time with you there at all. You've done the planning part. If he wants to, he'll stop speaking to you now."

Eddie chooses to leave out the part where they'd already technically seen each other this morning, however briefly, pulling into his driveway and sitting there for a moment. "What exactly am I looking for? He's better now, anyway. That doesn't mean he wants to date me."

"No offense Edmundo, but I don't really see how he wouldn't want to date you," Eddie frowns. He's not quite sure how that's an insult he should take offense to. "Just promise you won't go into this with total pessimism, okay? As a Christmas gift to us, look for the signs and believe in them,"

He rolls his eyes, however fondly, and grabs his phone from the holder on the dash. "Okay, okay. I'll look for the signs, whatever the hell that means," He laughs, opening the door to hop out of his truck. Inside, he can see Carla and Christopher dressed in their colorful Saturnalia wear already. "I love you guys. We'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

He grins his way through the loud, frantic goodbyes from both of his sisters and heads inside to shower and get changed for the party. Look for the signs. What kind of signs is he even supposed to look for?

Twenty-five minutes before midday, their Uber arrives.

Eddie's practically shaking with anxiety. He has no idea why — the party is all set-up, the food is well on the way to being cooked, and he's already got the approval of Bobby to soothe his nerves about the secret Santa gift exchange.

And yet Eddie finds himself encouraging Christopher's excited chatter the whole ride just to distract himself, trying not to crease his deep red dress pants when they get stuck in afternoon Los Angeles traffic for an extra ten minutes.

By the time they make it to Bobby's, they're about fifteen minutes later than he'd planned. His phone pings five minutes from their destination — a text from Buck asking when he's arriving that makes his heart swell.

Look for the signs. They're co-planners, he reminds himself. Buck is just checking in.

Eddie has to remind Christopher not to run when the Uber finally pulls up outside of Bobby's. Thankfully, only a few cars seem to be there so far, which still puts them in the first few to arrive. Glaringly obvious, Buck's bright blue jeep is not amongst them.

"Come on, Dad, I want to see Buck," Christopher pouts, tugging on his sleeve jacket as Eddie hovers at the bottom of the drive, gift bag tucked under one arm, the other busy trying to smooth out any non-existent wrinkles on his shirt.

He pretends not to notice the knowing smirk on Carla's face beside him and musters up every ounce of courage to ring the bell.

When Bobby opens the door to greet them all inside, Eddie has to act like he's not disappointed. This is Bobby and Athena's home, not Buck's, so there's really no reason that he'd be the one opening the door.

Distracting himself, Eddie guides Christopher and Carla outside to formally introduce them to those who are in attendance already. Buck is not amongst them.

Eddie tries not to worry. He knows Buck cares about this party outside of himself and Christopher and all the work they'd put into planning it together, but at some point Bobby comes otuside to let them all know that the kitchen should be good without anyone tending to it for a while, and people keep complimenting Eddie's hard work like he's the only one who did it, and he doesn't quite know what to think.

Buck is never late. Not to work, or any of their party planning days, and probably not to any of the social events Eddie had never attended either. It's suprising for the rest of his character, but it makes sense when you've firsthand witnessed how much Buck meticulously plans things and how much he'd rather stress himself out than let anyone down.

Only, Eddie isn't anyone, especially not to Buck.

Look for the signs. To Eddie, this is a pretty obvious sign that Buck had never been planning on upkeeping their newly formed friendship past the planning stage.

He tries not to sulk. More of the firehouse crew arrive and he's already fixing his second drink, striking up a conversation with Ravi about how he's found his first few weeks as a probie when Buck eventually, finally, arrives.

"Sorry probie, but I've gotta steal him really quickly," Buck grins, stepping in from behind Eddie before he's even noticed his presence.

Eddie opens his mouth to protest, to implore that it's rude to show up late and then interrupt a conversation, the words already formed on his lips when Buck grabs his arm and forcefully pulls him inside.

"Buck, you can't just show up and—"

"I'm really sorry for being late, I am," Buck interrupts him, again. Eddie kind of wants to wring his neck, but he's also now noticing the dark, muted green slacks and the lighter shirt tucked into them, embroidered holly on the pocket. His hair, usually gelled back at work, is falling in short curls around his face. He looks annoyingly good. "I was getting you a gift,"

Eddie opens his mouth to protest again, because they'd never agreed on gifts (even though he'd also gotten one for Buck, but that's not the point), but his words die on his tongue the moment Buck hands his gift over.

It's a crown of gold leaves, peaked up in the middle, metal and shiny and heavy in Eddie's hands.

"I know they didn't really wear these for Saturnalia, but we have the leaf ones outside for everyone else, and I wanted something special for you, so I made them. The final touches took a little bit longer than I expected them to, and you said you were running late so I thought it would be okay, but I really didn't mean to take this long, the traffic was just absolutely awful and Maddie wanted me to pick her up because her car broke down," Buck stops abruptly, fingers jolting away from where they were still hovering over the crown in Eddie's hands.

The rest of his little speech goes right over Eddie's head. "You made this?"

When he looks up again, Buck is spectacularly pink in the cheeks, flushed and pretty and delightfully embarrassed. Maybe Adriana had been right about the signs after all. "Yeah. Historically accurate enough for you?"

"It's gorgeous," Eddie breathes, holding it up to inspect closely. The leaves are marked with detail, stems indented under the pads of his fingers. "Can you, um, put it on for me?"

Buck doesn't speak, but he nods, gently taking the crown from Eddie's hands and waiting until he bows his head to place it there. He shivers when Buck detangles that stubborn front curl, falling over the leaves where they sit at his hairline, and waits until Buck's hands move away to look back up. "How does it look?"

"Amazing," Buck says, barely above a whisper. He clears his throat, blinking, but doesn't move out of their close proximity. "Yeah, it looks good. I like your suit."

Eddie glances down at himself and then back up. "Yeah? Did I live up to your expectations of me in a suit?"

"You surpassed them," Buck grins, and Eddie's stomach flips on its head. He has no idea what's happening, but he's starting to get the inclination that Sophia and Adriana had been right.

Without moving away, Buck reaches behind him for the bag to pull out a crown of his own — a little more bent and dented than Eddie's, like it'd been the test run, and pulls it onto his own head. "Good?"

Eddie nods. "You look like a proper Roman with those curls,"

Buck grins and holds out an arm for Eddie, who instinctively slips his own through it before he can second-guess himself. "Well, let's go entertain our guests, shall we?"

They rejoin the party outside, and Eddie can't quell the quiet hum of hope in his chest. Buck stays glued to his side as they move around and speak to everyone, only breaking away to go and make himself and Eddie new drinks. As soon as he's back, his arm is looped back through Eddie's, who has to pretend he doesn't notice Hen and Maddie exchanging knowing glances.

It's the first real time that Eddie has accepted any of the invites from the 118, and he's starting to think it'll be hard to continue to deny them. Karen had already quickly become a good friend of his since he met her at the station, and now with the addition of Buck and Maddie and all of the others, it'll be difficult to back away.

Christopher and Denny get along spectacularly. May is happily watching them in the lounge, where they have a Nintendo Switch set up, a nice enough break for the adults to converse stress-free in the yard.

Eventually, Buck does pull away with a squeeze to Eddie's bicep, following Bobby inside to start bringing the food out to the table. Alcohol-warmed and low on his inhibitions, Eddie can't do much more than blush and hide his face when Hen and Chimney immediately swarm him to tease.

Once everything is set out, Buck and Bobby call everyone over to dish up their plates. Eddie settles in beside Christopher, with Buck on the other side of his son, plating him up with everything he asks for before Eddie can even offer. He can't bring himself to plate his own until the whole exchange is over with.

The food is incredible. It's a Christmas dinner on steroids, with three types of meat and every side dish accounted for and a whole platter of dips and sauces. Buck simpers under every compliment sent his way, and Eddie suddenly wishes he knew how to paint so he could capture the look on his face and immortalize it forever.

After the food and a semi-clean-up, they regroup in the yard around Bobby's firefighter-approved firepit.

On their way in, there was a pile to drop off all the Secret Santa gifts, so no one knew whose was whose. Eddie feels like he's making it a tad obvious now, eyes snagging over the shabby wrapping held together with too much tape. He has the other gift wrapped and tucked into the side of his seat, the other side from where Buck is sitting to his right.

Generally, as they move around the circle, no one has stuck to the gift prize limit. Hen is gifted a whole box of self-care supplies and a pair of silver earrings with the paramedics symbol. Buck receives a muscle roller, a hand-sewn booksleeve, his own assortment of face masks, and a little collection of herbal teas.

Eddie's own gift is a box set of his favourite Tom Cruise movies that he assumes is handmade, judging by the box that looks like it was made on Canva. He also has an inkling Chimney might've been the gifter; his face does not hide his smile well, but Eddie doesn't want to ruin his fun.

The chain circles its way around to Bobby. God must absolutely hate Eddie, because they're sitting directly opposite one another with the firepit in between, and now he can't hide his anxious fidgeting without ceasing it completely.

"Interesting wrapping technique," Bobby jokes as he lifts his gift from his lap, fingers hooked into one of the many gaps. Eddie can only hope Bobby doesn't notice how flushed he is.

Bobby tears into the paper, starting with the mug that matches the one tucked against Eddie's side, chuckling when he reads the inscription across the front. The charcuterie board is next, which does seem to genuinely stun him, Athena gasping quietly at the detail.

"Wow, this is beautiful. I can't imagine this was in the budget, but I suppose none of these were," Bobby jokes, hands brushing over the carved wood, eyes still fixed on the board. When they pull away, they land directly on Eddie. "An amazing gift, thank you, whoever bought it."

The circle moves on, but Eddie knows he's been caught out, catching the private smile Bobby sends his way.

After the round, they do their guesses and manage to get mostly all of them right. It's unsurprising with a team like the 118, so impossibly close to one another that they know all the personal touches and signatures of a gift.

After thank yous have been exchanged, and they're all ready to head inside, Bobby pulls Eddie to the side.

It's only just beginning to get dark, with a deep blue hue to the ever-warm Los Angeles sky. Eddie can hear the muted chatter from inside and the crystal-clear sound of Buck's laugh cutting through it all.

Beside him, Bobby is also watching the sky, a solid, silent presence.

"You know," Bobby says eventually, when Eddie has just about settled into the quiet enough to lose his anxiousness. "I picked you specifically. When I saw you at the academy, I knew you'd be an incredible firefighter, even without your experience, but that's not what sold me on you. It was how well I think you'd fit in here, with us."

Eddie glances sideways at him, a small smile upticking on his face. "Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah. Especially for Buck," Bobby smiles back. "You're good for his recklessness, but he's good for you, too. After all, he's the one who finally broke down some of those walls."

Eddie wines, his gaze falling to the floor, where he digs the toe of his boot into the ground. "I should've opened up to you guys sooner,"

"I'm not blaming you for that," Bobby corrects himself quickly. "The 118 is a family to a lot of us, but not everyone needs one the same way others do. You could've kept those walls up forever, and it wouldn't have made you any less valuable, but it's not just about what you have to offer to the job. It's about finding a home for you, too, if that's what you need."

It's an open-ended remark — not necessarily geared for a response or acknowledgement, but there if he wants to give one.

"It is," Eddie admits. "I struggled with it at first, but it is. I think I belong here,"

Bobby turns to him fully now, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. At another time in his life, it might've made Eddie yearn for a similar reassuring touch from his father, but he's past seeking approval from people who don't care to even look at him. Now, he knows he can find his own family. "I think so too. I also think you've got another gift you need to give,"

Flushing, Eddie laughs and looks down at the familiarly terrible wrapped gift in his hand, the same paper and shape as the mug Bobby had received. Something in his stomach twists, but it doesn't feel like anxiety. "Sometimes I think he could still hate me,"

Eddie startles when Bobby laughs — not unkindly, just enough for him to jump in surprise. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to laugh. I may not have known the kid for that long, but I like to think I know him pretty well, and he has never, ever been as smitten with anyone as he is with you,"

Eddie's whole face is burning red now, shocked that Bobby of all people is saying these things to him. In a way, he is Buck's father figure, so it does make sense that he'd vouch for the validity of Buck's feelings, but the bluntness of it floors him.

Still, Eddie can't bite down on the grin that spreads over his face. He's tipsy and full of food and warmth and joy, and he can't hold it in, even if his future self might be totally humiliated that he had this discussion with his boss. "You really think so?"

Bobby smiles back at him, fondly rolling his eyes. He squeezes Eddie's shoulder again and points towards the house. "Go get him. Just let me know after you do so, and I can get a head start on paperwork."

Eddie manages a laugh, but his mind is already somewhere else.

He practically skips his way inside, rushing out an apology to Karen when she asks if he wants a glass of wine and a game of cards, tracking through each room until he finds Buck sat amongst the kids listening to Christopher explain a Nintendo game he absolutely would've had a version of growing up.

"Sorry guys, I just need to steal Buck really quick," Eddie interrupts, his heart hammering so fast in his chest that he can feel it in his teeth. "I promise I'll give him right back when I'm done,"

Without giving Buck a moment to process once he's stood up, Eddie grabs his wrist and drags him through the hall until he finds the guest room at the opposite end of the hall to the party. Behind them, he closes the door and turns to face Buck, gift extended in one hand. The other stays looped around Buck's wrist.

"Eddie, you didn't have to get me anything. The crowns were for the party," Buck protests softly, still taking the wrapped present from Eddie's hand.

With his now free palm, Eddie waves him off. "I got this weeks ago. When would I have time to get something today?"

"Maybe you stole something from Bobby and Athena. Regifting is recycling," Buck shrugs. Eddie scoffs.

"Open the gift, or I'm taking it back,"

Buck laughs. "Okay, okay, but I need my other hand,"

Reluctantly, Eddie lets go, only allowing his slightly drunk brain a moment to be embarrassed for a second. When the second has passed, he's back to his resolute determination.

He watches Buck open the gift quietly, the flash of recognition in Buck's face at the sight of the wooden cup, and the softening of his features when he reads the matching words adorned on the front of it. "Thank you, Eds. This is really sweet, you really didn't have to. And, um, thank you for giving me Christopher's card. It really did mean a lot."

Biting his lip, Eddie gives a slight nod. "You've done a lot for us the last few weeks, and Christopher had so much fun with you." He pauses, watching Buck closely. Adriana had said to look for the signs, but in the end, Eddie isn't sure he even had to. Buck had handed him one made of gold leaves and asked for nothing in return. "I had a lot of fun with you, too."

"Yeah?" Buck asks breathlessly, shuffling from foot to foot, inching closer.

It takes a lot, but Eddie manages to grab onto that determination and force himself to be brave, to reach out and tangle his fingers with Buck's where they've fallen back to his side. "Yeah. And we'd really like to keep you around, if you'll have us,"

Buck laughs, barely a breath of air, stepping in those last few inches until they're toe to toe, fingers curled more solidly around Eddie's now. "I think I'd be an idiot not to," He mutters, and then closes the distance between them.

Buck kisses him slowly, solidly, with warm lips and warm palms that slide up to cup either side of his face, gently urging him forwards until they're chest-to-chest and Eddie can feel his heartbeat through his shirt. He gasps at the feeling of it, fingers curling into Buck's soft sides when he feels the other man laugh fondly against his mouth.

When Buck presses his tongue into his mouth, it isn't dirty — it's tender. He licks into the corners of Eddie's mouth to map him from the inside, slow and reverent, his thumbs brushing slow rhythmic patterns against the heated skin of his cheeks. When they eventually break away, it's only because Eddie has turned breathless with the softness of it all, but Buck only moves back enough to see his eyes.

"God, I was really hoping we'd end up here," Buck whispers, grinning when Eddie laughs and tips their foreheads together.

"Oh yeah, for how long?"

Buck hums, one hand shifting from Eddie's cheek to push the curl of hair over his forehead back, scratching his scalp to entice a shiver that runs down Eddie's spine. "I started to figure it out when I saw you jumping around your kitchen to get the fire alarm to turn off. But I also think it's been from the first moment I saw you in the firehouse."

Eddie sinks his teeth into his lip to stop a grin and nods. "My sisters basicaly told me I was only rising to your taunts because I wanted your attention,"

Buck laughs, his hand dropping down to curl around Eddie's waist and squeeze. "You didn't even need to do that. You had my attention as soon as you walked in,"

Eddie wants to say that Buck didn't actually see him walk in that first day, but he can't really be bothered to talk about this anymore. Instead, he presses forward to steal more of Buck's breath and to press his tongue into the other mans mouth until they're both lost on where one of them begins and the other one ends.

They do eventually rejoin the party, but not without another ten minutes of making out and a suspiciously bite-shaped mark indented into the skin right under Eddie's jaw. No one in the room says anything, but when Eddie catches Maddie's eye he knows her grin is purposeful. He nods at her once, smiling.

The rest of the night is perfect. They play charades until guests slowly start to trickle away, the kids growing tired and the adults weary. When Christopher shuffles over to Eddie to rest sleepily against his shoulder, he announces that it's time for them to go as well.

He doesn't say anything when Buck wordlessly follows them out to the front of Bobby's place while Eddie tries to navigate the Uber app, huffing when their ride connects with a five minute wait.

Beside him, Buck has lifted an exhausted Christopher into his arms, speaking lowly into his ear about some space documentary he'd watched recently. Christopher yawns into his shoulder. For the first time in a very long time, Eddie feels completely at peace.

It might be the alcohol, not enough for him to be drunk but enough to have him sentimental and emotional, or it might be Buck and his everythingness, but his chest almost aches with the joy of it all. He finally, finally feels like he has his family. His own family.

"Buck," He murmurs, reaching out to curl his fingers against the pulse in Buck's wrist. "I know you'll probably be with Maddie tomorrow, but we'd love to have you in the evening or for dinner or really whenever, if you want to at all,"

When Buck looks up at him, his eyes are big and round, genunely shocked. "Really? You'd want me there?"

"Of course," Eddie replies. In the corner of his eye, he can see a car pull up to the street. "I told you we wanted to keep you around,"

"Maddie's spending it with Chimney," Buck tells him. "I can be with you guys whenever you'll have me,"

"How about breakfast?"

"My favourite meal of the day," Buck grins, and Eddie can't help but return it. Throughout the mess of their party planning, he supposes breakfast had played a big part in their bonding. "Your car is here."

Eddie nods, frowning. He holds out his arms so Buck can gently settle Christopher against his chest, who barely hums in discontent before he snuggles in closer to Eddie's neck. They walk down to the car together, Eddie reaching out to clip Christopher in before he turns back to Buck, the car door open. "I had a good night,"

"Me too," Buck whispers, as if he's afraid to shatter the moment. "I'm really glad Bobby made you my partner."

He means it in both ways — at the firehouse and for the party plan. Eddie doesn't have to ask. "Goodnight, Buck."

Buck grins, sweeping forward to press a kiss to Eddie's cheek before he can protest. "Goodnight, Eddie."

Climbing into the car, Eddie rolls his eyes playfully when Buck closes the door for him. He doesn't manage to wipe the smile off his face for the entire drive home.

"How do I look?"

It's New Year's Eve, a week from the night Eddie had let himself look for the signs and the seven days of domestic, honeymoon-stage bliss that followed.

On Christmas Day, Buck had appeared on their doorstep at seven o'clock in the morning, a little over twenty minutes after Christopher had climbed into Eddie's bed to wake him up. And just like all of the early mornings that led up to the annual 118 Christmas party, he'd come bearing sweet holiday drinks and a box of treats — this time, he'd made them himself, and Eddie was allowed to kiss him to say thank you.

The next six days had continued pretty similarly.

Part of Eddie knows they're moving fast, that they probably shouldn't spend every day together when they also spend their shifts together, but it's as if all those months finding Buck's presence grating are being paid back in the urge to glue themselves together.

Now, Buck stands behind him in the full-length mirror of the loft, five hours 'til midnight and the first year of the rest of Eddie's life.

At Christmas, they'd been unintentionally matching in red and green. Now, Buck stands behind him dressed in a charcoal grey shirt, dark pinstripe pants, with his hands curled around Eddie's hips. He's smoothing down the wrinkles of his own shirt, white and fitted enough that it pulls in to highlight his waist, unbuttoned low enough to show off the St Christopher medal resting in the hollow of his collarbones.

Matching for two holidays in a row, like all good couples.

On Christmas Day, Eddie had come out to his abuela and Tia Pepa in the living room a whole minute before he led them to the kitchen to meet Buck. They'd taken to him just as quickly as Christopher had.

Sophia and Adriana are delighted when he calls them that same day, and entirely less surprised when he recounts the party to them. They are, however, absolutely delighted when Eddie asks if they'd like to meet Buck via FaceTime. He's just a little miffed that they enjoy ganging up on him so much.

"Every color is your color," Buck hums against the back of his neck now, lips pressed against the warm skin there. He bites once, gently, just to see a faint mark flare and disappear. "You could never look bad."

Eddie laughs, hands sliding over Buck's where they're still gripped at his waist, swaying back until they're pressed together. "I think May is going to cover us in glitter as soon as we get there,"

"Oh, definitely. If she doesn't, Chris will use his puppy eyes."

"Ah, irresistible," Eddie nods solemnly. He tugs gently at Buck's hands, pulling his arms until they're wrapped tightly around his middle, eyes tracing over both of their figures in the mirror. "You look good, too."

"Mmm, you think? That why you keep me around?"

It's a joke, Eddie knows that. But he also knows that Buck likes the reassurance of his place in people's lives. If the last seven days of their late-night conversations and becoming increasingly attached at the hip have revealed anything to Eddie, it's that comments like these have a subconscious underlying question.

He turns in Buck's arms, looping his own around his neck to draw him in until they're chest-to-chest, close enough he can feel the heat of Buck's breath on his mouth. "You are so much more than that,"

Buck's face flushes, a slow hue of pink overtaking his cheeks. "I think I'm going to fall in love with you,"

Eddie's breath catches in his chest, nails digging in lightly to the skin of Buck's neck. "I'm glad," He whispers, leaning in until he's speaking against Buck's lips. "I think I'm already halfway there."