Archive of Our Own

The first thing Buck notices is Eddie’s hair.

He’s grown it out. Not much, but a noticeable amount. It reaches further down his neck, curling up just a bit behind his ears.

It looks nice. Suits him. Buck’s a big fan.

As a matter of fact, he can’t stop staring at it as Eddie walks a few steps in front of him through the airport, carry-on backpack slung over one shoulder, dodging and weaving through the crowds up to the baggage claim carousel.

It really isn’t that much longer at all. It just looks like Eddie’s gone an extra week or two without a haircut.

Which Buck can understand. Letting some things fall to the wayside was to be expected after getting a phone call in the middle of the night telling you that your captain was exposed to a deadly virus, and then getting a follow up call a few hours later telling you that, somehow, he wasn’t dead yet.

Buck had been the one to make the second call, telling Eddie that Bobby’s body seemed to be breaking the virus down faster than it could spread. They hadn’t needed another dose of the antidote - Bobby’s blood was acting as its own.

A miracle.

Buck wasn’t one to question miracles. 

Eddie, of course, was and had his fair share of questions.

Whatever it was about Bobby’s blood that acted as a cure for rhesus disease was also able to reverse the effects of a genetically altered Crimean-Congo hemorrhagic fever.

They had been told that Bobby would be monitored and quarantined for two weeks on a military base. 

Not dead, not dying. Just two weeks of military-funded sick leave. 

Two weeks later and now Eddie was here. He’d been working his ass off in order to get everything in order. To come home. 

Two weeks of almost constant Ubering and Doordashing to scrape up money for plane tickets and to ship all of his and Chris’ things back to L.A. 

He’d wanted to come sooner, but Athena had been the one to talk Eddie down.

The only way anyone could communicate with Bobby was via phone, and he could do that just as easily in El Paso while he went about getting himself properly home.

And now Buck was looking at the curled ends of his grown-out hair as he waited for his nondescript black suitcase to roll out onto the luggage carousel at the baggage claim.

His chest and arms are still warm from the hug they had shared, and there’s a crumpled up piece of A4 paper in Buck’s back pocket that reads ‘EDMUNDO DIAZ’ in red marker that he had stood holding for fifteen minutes while waiting for Eddie to come meet him at the front of the terminal.

Eddie turns to look over his shoulder with a smile. He has his phone in his hand and Buck can see the text thread he has with Chris is open. “Ya’know, Chris is still furious he has to wait another week.” 

“I know, I know, I’m a monster for not wanting him to mess up his entire school semester,” Buck says with a smile. 

Eddie snorts before leaning over to heave his suitcase off of the conveyor belt with an audible huff, despite Buck knowing damn well from Eddie’s chronic under-packing that there isn’t enough in there for him to need to strain. 

Eddie turns back to Buck with one hand on his hip and the other holding onto the strap of his backpack, suitcase by his side. “I told him it was Bobby’s request,” Eddie says with a shrug, “But he didn’t wanna hear it. Soph is going to stay at the house with him though, and she lets him get away with anything so I think he came around in the end.”

Buck feels a little selfish for how the only part of that sentence he picks up on is Eddie calling the place in El Paso ‘the house’. Not his house or home. The house.

Because L.A is home. Eddie is home, and once Chris has finished off the last few assignments for the semester and has gotten his transcripts transferred back then he’ll be home too.

He’s been talking about non-stop for the past two weeks. Telling anyone who would listen about how Eddie had agreed to let Adriana set the house up as an Airbnb for a few months. They’d go 50/50 with profits to help Eddie make back some of the money he’d lost during the move while Adriana, fresh out of college with a degree she has no clue what to do with and a part time job she can’t stand, would have something to keep her busy until they could get around to selling or renting or something.

Buck had been prepared to go apartment hunting, give Eddie his space back, but Eddie had been adamant that he stay. He’d find a half decent fold-out couch on Facebook Marketplace.

It wouldn’t be like much would change, he had said. Buck was over almost every night even when Eddie and Chris were still living there.

Which had made Buck all but melt at the time. 

But he tried to act normal. It didn’t work and no one in his life was convinced, but he had tried regardless. 

Buck knows that if anyone else had to go through this, they’d feel the same way.

It was impossible to be in love with Edmundo Ramon Diaz and not go insane with it.

Because, yeah, Buck loves him. There was no need to dance around it, it really was as simple as that.

Falling over the past six goddamn years, slowly but surely so he didn’t even notice it was happening until he was confronted with the absence of him. 

Which was probably the cruelest way to realize you love someone that much.

When the only way to love them is through Facetime calls.

So getting to watch Eddie be so casually beautiful in an airport just a couple of feet away is surely the equivalent of watching a husband return from war.

…Maybe that metaphor is too real considering Shannon was, of course, a woman who was literally waiting for Eddie to return from war at one point. 

But Buck can’t help how he feels. How irrational it all is. How dramatic.

Buck has never gone that long without Eddie. And he refuses to ever do it again. He’s never letting him go. He doesn’t think he’d physically survive it.

Eddie cocks his head to the side slightly, eyebrow raised. “You good? Where’d you just go?,” he asks, tone playful. 

Buck brushes it off with a smile and a wave of his hand. “I’m fine. It’s just really good to have you back. I was, ya’know, scared for a while there that we were gonna lose Bobby. And I, uh…well,” he takes a moment to think about his next words, “I just thought a lot about how different everything felt when you weren’t around. I couldn’t have lost someone else.”

Eddie’s expression melts into something warm and soft, like he’s shocked by what Buck’s just said. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, you could never lose me. It doesn’t matter how many states away I am, I’d never let that happen.”

The words crack something open in Buck, like Eddie has blown too hard onto the house of cards that is Buck’s self-preservation.

The cards have crumpled into a pile and all Buck can do is say;

“Eddie, I love you.”

Eddie seems frozen for a second. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky inhale. His grip on his bag strap tightens. 

Buck feels everything and everyone around him fall away until there’s just Eddie. Eddie and his eyes all wide and shiny and a beautiful tree-sap brown.

Buck shakes his head in disbelief at the sight. 

“I-I love you. So much. So much that the past couple of months have been killing me. I don’t know how to be a person when you’re not around. I just can’t do it.”

Eddie’s bottom lip trembles for a moment. He looks taken aback, like he can’t comprehend what Buck is saying to him. So Buck just keeps going. Because he needs Eddie to understand.  

“And I told myself every day; ‘it’s for Chris. Eddie needs to be with Chris and Chris needs to be with Eddie.’ But, shit, I just missed you all the time. Constantly. I think I was actively pissing people off with how annoyingly I was missing you. Because I love you.”

He thinks about Ravi and Maddie and, for a split second, Tommy and all of the people who have been collateral to his Eddie withdrawals. 

Eddie, who has a silver star. Eddie, who had been the competition. Eddie, who it wouldn’t be so crazy for Buck to be in love with.

“I had Hinge for a total of four hours last month because I just kept comparing every single person to you. If they had dark hair or brown eyes or were six foot or had dimples, just anything and everything. I couldn’t stop looking for you in it. I realized I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend or a boyfriend, I was looking for you.”

He then exhales like he’s had the breath punched out of him. Admitting it out loud feels like cutting his own stomach open, letting his guts flop onto the ground in front of him.

But it also feels like the easiest thing in the world to say. He doesn’t have to think about what he’s saying, it just falls out.

Eddie looks like he’s about to burst open in the same way. His eyes are wet and his breath is hitched and his face is flushed and it’s an expression that reminds Buck of the same look of vulnerability and exposure that followed ‘it’s me, I’m your renter’ and ‘now you don’t need to worry’.

And for a moment, Buck thinks it’s all about to play out like the rom-coms he’s been binge-watching throughout the past three weeks.

Eddie’s going to grab Buck by the front of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss and the two are going to drive off into the sunset. Or to Bobby’s ‘Welcome Home And Also Happy Housewarming!’ party. Either would work.

But instead Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, before looking at Buck with eyebrows downturned and the most heartbreakingly subtle shake of his head.

“I can't be your boyfriend, Buck,” he says, quiet and his voice cracking. He’s trying not to cry.

Buck tries his best not to show how much it stings. He’s read it all wrong. God, of course he has. He swallows and clears his throat and tries to play it cool. “I'm…yeah. No, of course not. I don't know what I was-”

“Because I'm not.”

Buck blinks. 

“...not into guys?”, he asks, and it feels a little like salt in the wound to ask for clarification. Like Eddie’s making Buck do the dirty work of filling in the gaps.

But there’s something in Eddie’s expression - a hesitancy almost. 

Eddie scrunches up his mouth at the side, looking down at his shoes for a moment before he speaks. 

“Not a guy, Buck. I can't be your boyfriend because I'm not a boy.”

Buck blinks again. Eddie’s words don’t land, just sort of float around Buck’s head like stars in a cartoon after someone is hit over the head with a hammer or a piano or an anvil.

Eddie isn’t a guy. What does that make him then?

Well, most likely not a him first of all. 

Suddenly, Buck’s head is swimming. Every interaction Buck has ever had with Eddie begins to loop in his head. 

Because Eddie isn’t a guy. Eddie can’t be his boyfriend because Eddie isn’t a boy. Eddie is…

“Buck, I need you to say something.” Eddie’s voice is tight. Strangled.

It’s enough to jolt Buck out of his stupor, gaze turning back to Eddie at the same time someone walks past a little too quickly and clips Buck’s ankles with their suitcase.

Eddie sniffles once, twice. And Buck is very aware that the two of them are still standing at the baggage claim at the airport. People try to weave around the two to get to their bags.

Buck nods. And then nods again. He’s not sure what to say. The right thing, the wrong thing. He’s not even 100% certain of what the thing is.

“Yeah. Of course. But, uh, we should probably -” Buck gestures vaguely behind himself, to the exit, “-continue this outside. I-If that’s okay.”

Eddie sniffles again, hand gripping tight around the handle of the suitcase. He nods.

They nod?

Buck isn’t sure. 

“Yeah, good idea,” Eddie says as they look around. A final boarding call for a flight to Florida plays loudly from the P.A system and Eddie makes a sound that Buck is pretty sure is a laugh.

“God…,” Eddie mumbles to themself, scrubbing a hand over their face. “Sorry. I’m being crazy. We’re in fucking LAX.”

Buck wants to assure Eddie that, in comparison to his own recent behavior, the way Eddie is acting is the furthest thing from crazy. He decides to just lead the way out of the terminal and into the maze of a parking lot. 

Eddie trails close behind him as they trudge towards Buck’s car and do their best to avoid getting mowed down by a bus and Buck spares a quick moment to think about how he’s Eddie’s personal chauffeur for the time being.

Eddie had sold the truck and left the new car back in El Paso, let a friend of Sophia’s buy it off of them for cheaper than they should’ve allowed.

When they reach Buck’s car, the two of them begin to slow until they’re both standing idly around the hood. 

He isn’t sure who’s meant to talk first. Eddie had needed him to say something. But he’s coming up empty.

“When you said you ‘weren’t a guy’, what you mean is that you’re…,” he trails off, not wanting to misspeak, and it makes Eddie smile.

Eddie shifts their weight back and forth on their feet, face unreadable. They’re not looking Buck in the eye.

“I don’t even know. I mean, I know, but I don’t –” they cut themself off with an exasperated huff. “It’s new. It’s a new thing for me. An old feeling, but the first time I’ve tried to do anything with it. All I can tell you right now is that I’m not a man.”

They kick at a crushed bottlecap next to their feet. “Chris knows. And my sisters. I was with them when I, I don’t know, worked it out or whatever. It was this whole thing. Because Adriana’s a lesbian now.”

They pause and furrow their brow. “Well, no, she was always a lesbian obviously but she only told us last week. At dinner. And then I started thinking about myself and – Anyways, I realized that most people don’t think about being a man the way I did. Like it’s a hole in your body that you have to fill constantly.”

Eddie looks over to meet Buck’s eyes again. 

“Turns out most guys don’t spend their entire lives trying to convince themselves that they’re guys. They just know they are. And I didn’t. And I don’t. And I’m not. And that’s kind of where I’m at right now.”

Buck replies with a slow nod and digs his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Okay.”

Eddie blinks and looks Buck up and down like they’re searching for confusion or judgment or a billion questions. “Okay?”

Buck shrugs. “Yeah. You don’t have to try and explain it to me. It’s you. I care about you. I don’t think there’s anything you could be or not be that would make me feel any less crazy about you.”

His phone buzzes in his back pocket. Ravi, most likely. Asking where the hell Buck is. They’re meant to go to Bobby and Athena’s new place together.

Eddie is meant to be a surprise.

Like they can read Buck’s mind, Eddie begins to straighten themself up and move around the side of the car. “We should go. We’ll be late. Today is about Bobby, it’s not about me.”

Buck wants to tell Eddie that every day should be about them. 

As Eddie’s hand touches the car door handle and Buck reaches over to grab their suitcase to throw it in the back, Eddie stalls.

“Buck?”

He looks back over and lets out a hum of acknowledgment. 

They rub the back of their neck, face pink, fingers brushing through the slight curl of their hair. “I love you too. I, uh, I was going to say it back before but the other thing came out instead. But I love you. I realized that one in El Paso too.”

A warmth settles across Buck’s entire body like he’s sinking down into something. 

Something good and right and worth the wait.

Which makes sense.

Eddie will always be worth the wait.

Athena and Bobby’s new place is sparsely furnished. 

It makes sense, Athena hasn’t exactly had the time to be looking through Ikea when her husband has been sitting in some government quarantine facility that no one was allowed to know the exact location of.

Still, Eddie is impressed with what they have been able to put together.

There’s a new dining room table and chairs, with some additional mismatched ones added in to fit everybody.

There’s a couch from a Goodwill that Athena had taken on as a project, steaming and cleaning it and fixing up some of the cushion upholstery. 

The TV is sitting on the hardwood floor on top of two stacks of May’s old textbooks, an old episode of Claws playing on mute with the subtitles on.

And yet Eddie feels just as at home here as they do in their own place.

And certainly more at home than they ever have in El Paso.

They’re eating some caesar salad and fried rice on a paper plate with a random fork May had handed them from a cardboard box of loose cutlery and it feels like a gourmet meal.

It feels a little dreamlike, in a way. The last few weeks. The last few hours.

Bobby slides up beside them at the kitchen island they’re standing around with a paper plate of his own and a slap on the shoulder.

“Ya’know, I think Hen’s little ‘welcome home’ banner-,” he gestures to the banner in question, a hand-painted thing strung up above the back door, with a tilt of his head, “-is just as much yours as it is mine.” 

The hand on Eddie’s shoulder turns into a slight squeeze as Bobby gives them a smile. “We’re all really glad you’re back, Eddie. Wasn’t the same without you.”

Eddie almost wants to laugh. They had been a few states away for a couple of weeks. Bobby was on death’s door and then in an unknown military facility.

It didn't feel like they deserved to be put in the same category at all.

Still, they smile politely, playfully. “Yeah, well I’d rather have a share in the banner than the cake,” they say, looking down pointedly at the slice of cake Bobby has on his plate. There’s a little blue icing on the piece, the remnants of the words ‘sorry you’ve used up all of your paid sick leave ’ with a little sad face below it.

Bobby chuckles with a shake of his head. He looks thinner than Eddie remembers, a little gaunter. Eddie can’t help but think that nearly dying will do that to a person.

But he’s alive nonetheless. Still with a full month until he’s approved for even light duty, but living. Breathing.

“I, uh, I know it’s probably been said to you, like, twenty five times today in twenty five different ways,” Eddie starts, placing their plate onto the counter, “but you mean a lot to us. To me. And I don’t think I can really put into words how much you’ve changed my life - for the better.”

Bobby looks a little awkward, uncomfortable with the praise. Most likely because Eddie was right and everyone in the room had already had this exact same conversation with him.

“You saved my life. And I want you to know that you’ve done that more times than I can count. So, just…yeah. Thank you.” Eddie punctuates themself with a listless shrug.

There’s a stillness and silence between the two for a moment as Bobby takes a breath and gives Eddie a smile.

Jee-yun calls out Bobby’s name from the backyard, an excited cry of: “G’anpa Bobby! My baby brother is kicking Mommy's tummy! Come feel, come feel!”

The two laugh, Bobby looking down at his feet, shaking his head with a chuckle. “Well, duty calls,” he says as he gestures to the door with his plate

Just as he goes to turn and leave, he gives Eddie a look - sincere and serious in a way that would’ve sobered them up a little if they hadn’t already agreed to be designated driver for both Buck and Ravi.

“You're a good man, Eddie.”

Ah. 

Yeah.

That had slipped their mind.

A good man.

Eddie spent a lot of time thinking about the concept of coming out. Chris, Adriana and Sophia had been one thing. They’d been there for the initial realization of it all. Witnesses to the clicking of pieces into place and the turning of cogs. 

Telling Buck had come both as second nature and by complete happenstance. The opportunity had presented itself and Eddie had taken it.

Telling the rest of the 118? A whole different beast.

Not that Eddie thought any of the people in his life would be against it, let alone Bobby, but Eddie had spent a lot of time trying to be a very certain kind of person.

And they were, decidedly, not that person.

They couldn’t help but feel like a liar, despite the fact they had only been able to put some kind of name to the feeling a few weeks ago.

Not even a name, not really. Adriana had thrown a few labels around that had scared Eddie a little too much to think about them for more than a minute. 

Non-binary, agender, genderfluid, genderflux.

All Eddie was sure of was that they had never really understood how people knew they were men or women. Eddie had just played pretend for thirty three years in their best assumption of what ‘being a man’ was supposed to be.

People told them to go to the ‘boys’ side when P.E was split into genders, their parents painted the walls of their room light blue as a baby, they were assured over and over again that taking dance classes didn’t make them any less of a man.

They were told to be the man of the house.

And they had thought that was what being a man was. Being told that you were one.

Eddie knew about trans people, of course they did. Knew about non-binary people too. They lived in L.A after all. 

But Eddie never dressed up in their mom’s clothes as a kid or looked at their body and felt like it didn’t fit. None of the stereotypical calling cards of transness that they had seen on TV or in movies.

Eddie just felt…a void.

A black hole in the part of themself that everybody kept trying to put ‘man’, ‘boy’, ‘guy’, ‘he’ into their entire life. And they hadn’t known then that there were any other options, so they’d just agreed.

And Adriana then had come in with her hair cut short and news of a new girlfriend at college and a ‘by the way, I’m a lesbian’ that everybody but Eddie had known about and suddenly Eddie was thinking about things they had actively avoided before.

And now two things were very clear;

1. They weren’t a man. 
2. However, they most certainly liked men. 

Or, really, just one man at the current moment.

“Look at you, deep in thought. I knew I could smell smoke from somewhere,” Buck says as he nudges Eddie with his elbow and slips in across from them at the counter.

Eddie scoffs a laugh at first, but lets out a hum of approval as Buck places twin glasses of lemonade down in front of them.

“Ya’know, I’ll let that one slide because I really want this lemonade.”

Buck's glass has a little paper umbrella and a straw in it while Eddie’s has more ice than lemonade and a little cut-up strawberry on the rim. 

Just the way they like it.

Eddie knows damn well that Maddie hadn’t served her lemonade with strawberries, meaning that Buck must have grabbed one from the fruit platter just for Eddie.

God.

It’s unbearable.

Buck’s thoughtfulness.

And to think, Eddie had scoffed at Chris’ notion that they had feelings for Buck at first. That Buck could possibly have feelings for them.

Now it seemed kind of dumb to assume anything else. Seemed so obvious.

Of course Eddie loves Buck. And of course Buck loves them in return.

Obviously.

Sometimes one just needs a little airport love confession slash coming out to get the wheels in motion.

"I, uh, I hope I made it right," Buck says, his voice just a little too casual, too nonchalant in a way that isn’t very Buck of him. "I know you said you were drinking a lot of lemonade in El Paso so I thought I’d try and, ya’know, recreate how you said you liked it."

“You really didn’t have to do that,” Eddie says. Their voice goes a little quiet, a little unsteady. 

Buck’s mouth quirks up into a smile. “What, you don’t want the strawberry?” He reaches out a hand as if to take the glass back and Eddie pulls it close to their chest quickly.

“I didn’t say that!” Eddie says, cradling the glass like it’s something precious. 

Buck grins, victorious, resting against the counter on his elbows. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Eddie takes a long sip of the drink before plucking the strawberry off. They stare Buck down as they toss it in their mouth.

They’re both silent for a moment, eyes narrowed and a playful tension strung between them like a wire.

Buck breaks first, the corner of his mouth twitching before he snorts out a laugh. Eddie follows suit with an exhale of laughter and a shake of their head.

But it’s fleeting, the warmth and laughter quickly folding into something smaller. More delicate.

"So," Buck starts, dragging out the ‘o’ sound while pushing the little paper umbrella around with a finger, his eyes never leaving Eddie, “you want to tell me what's going on in that head of yours, or should I just keep guessing?"

They’re not even sure what they’re thinking.

‘A lot of things’, they want to say.

They want to say; ‘Bobby’s alive. I’m back in L.A. Give it a week and Chris will be back in L.A. I’m gay. I’m in love with you. You’re in love with me, you said so. I don’t know what I am but I know I’m not what I thought I was. Do you think people have noticed I’ve grown my hair out? Because the only one who’s commented on it was Karen. I love you I love you I love you.’

Instead, Eddie sighs, watching a bead of condensation run down the glass and hit the kitchen bench.

“You called me ‘this one’. Instead of…he,” they say. As a matter of fact, Buck had very noticeably not used any gendered pronouns in the past two hours. Well, noticeable to Eddie. No one else had raised an eyebrow. 

Buck tilts his head to the side slightly in thought. “I did? When?”

“At your place, when Ravi came over, you said you had to pick ‘this one’-” Eddie gestures to themself with a wave of their hand, “- up from the airport.” 

Buck lets out a quiet ‘huh’, brows furrowed, looking to the side for a moment as if trying to think back to the conversation. 

“I guess I just…didn’t want to put you in a place where it had to become a thing before you were ready for it to become a thing.”

Eddie swallows, mouth dry. They take another sip of lemonade.

“Well, uh, thank you. It meant a lot.”

Buck all but scoffs, like the idea of being thanked for it is absurd. Because he hadn’t even realized he had done it.

He just did it. 

Something about the mortifying ordeal of being known or whatever that quote is springs to Eddie’s mind.

That’s what it was like to be loved by Buck. To be known in such an intense way. Like a strawberry for their lemonade.

“Ya’know, for a second back there, at the airport, I was trying to understand what you meant,” Buck says, scratching at the back of his neck. “I was thinking; ‘well, of course Eddie’s not a boy. I mean, we’re thirty three.’”

Eddie laughs, watery but no less genuine. They trace a finger through the condensation on the glass. An aimless squiggly line. “Yeah, it just sorta…came out I guess.”

“You mean you just sorta came out.” 

Eddie’s laugh this time is fuller, louder. Their face is turning pinker by the second, a deep flash creeping up their neck and across their cheeks. 

“Asshole,” they say, nudging Buck with their elbow. “How long have you been waiting to use that one?”

Buck gives a shrug and tries to hide a smile as he takes a drink from his glass, the paper umbrella bumping up against his nose. “Thought of it while we were in the car on the way to mine.”

Eddie rolls their eyes fondly. 

The domesticity of it all isn’t lost on them. It was something they had spent years upon years brushing off as a skin-tight friendship, as a platonic back-and-forth banter, as a playful dance of never crossing that line. 

Well, it was well and truly crossed now.

Thank fucking Christ.

Abruptly, Buck’s expression shifts into something akin to awe, like he can’t believe that he’s seeing.

“Sorry,” Buck says, but he doesn’t look apologetic in the slightest, “I just remembered that I get to be in love with you. Like, all the time. Every day.”

Eddie doesn’t know how to react beyond letting their mouth fall into a stunned ‘oh’ which seems to just make Buck smile wider.

“We’ll, uh, probably have to talk about the whole-,” Eddie waves a hand flippantly, “-ya’know. Us. This. Me, I guess.” 

Eddie hates how visibly flustered they are. It’s a state of being that they do their best to avoid, but Buck makes it near impossible, especially as of late. 

Buck nods and looks over Eddie’s shoulder and over to where everyone else is milling about out in the yard.

“Yeah, totally. Tonight we can sit down and order in some Thai and just…talk about everything,” Buck says, and suddenly the word talk holds all of the weight in the world. 

Eddie can’t even attempt to hide their grin and the redness of their face. It’s like they’re thirteen again and Lucas Aguirre, a boy on the baseball team at Eddie's school, had just sat across from them at McDonald's and told them they were actually really cool and funny.

As they nod and go to take another mouthful of lemonade, Eddie can’t help but think about how there is a good chance that once they head back home, Eddie will get to grab Buck by the collar of his shirt and kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.

They’re not sure how much actually talking will actually end up happening, but they’ve waited thirty three years to feel the way they’re currently feeling.

Talking can wait.

Eddie never thought they’d ever get to have this.

Not when they were ten and a bad son most of the time except for when they were winning trophies.

Not when they were fourteen and ‘being forced’ to learn the choreography to Amigas Cheetahs from The Cheetah Girls 2 because their sisters would cry out; Eddie, please, Eddie! You’re the best dancer ever Eddie, you gotta do it! You can be Dorinda! Please!

Certainly not during the years and years of disappointed head shakes from their parents.

Not that they ever really stopped.

But, now, they think about that kid finding out that, eventually - after a lot of trial and error, they get to lie around in bed on a day-off with their boyfriend while their son lazes around in his own bedroom down the hall.

It’s good. It feels really good.

The type of really good that makes Eddie want to pinch themself or try to phase their fingers through their palm or any of the other things they say to do to see if you’re dreaming or not.

They know it's not a dream, however, as Buck accidently elbows them in the face as he stretches out with a yawn.

“Okay, wow, happy one month anniversary to you too, Buck,” Eddie says, rubbing at the spot just to the side of their eyebrow that caught the brunt of it. 

“Shit, sorry, sorry!” Buck’s laughing through it, but Eddie knows the apology is real as he pulls Eddie’s arm out of the way so he can pepper the side of their face with kisses, each punctuated with a ‘sorry’

Eddie tries to squirm away, albeit without any real effort behind it. If they had it their way, Buck would never stop.

Buck places one last kiss on Eddie’s cheek before sitting himself up, and Eddie has to do everything in their power to not just stare as the covers pool around his waist because oh God, Buck’s chest and his stomach and his tattoos and the broadness of it all.

Instead, they bring themself up to sit against the headboard with him with a still-not-fully-awake sigh.

There’s a moment of warmth that Eddie wants to sink and melt into and live in forever as Buck wraps an arm around their shoulders.

“Ya'know, one month of us being together also means one month of you being you. Like, officially. Give or take a couple days,” Buck says, tracing light circles on the bare skin of Eddie’s upper arm.

Eddie hums, more in thought than anything else. They suppose he’s right. 

It had all happened in a kind of rapid domino effect; Eddie came out to Buck at the airport, Eddie told Buck they love them back, Eddie had sex with Buck once they were back home after Bobby’s party, and then Eddie came out to the rest of the 118 the next morning via a too-formal-and-too-abrupt-in-hindsight message in the work group chat.

From Eddie Diaz: Was so great to see everyone again yesterday! Congrats on the house again Bobby & Athena! (And welcome back Bobby haha!)

From Eddie Diaz: I would also like to update everyone and let you all know that, going forward, my pronouns will be they/them.

“Yeah, I guess so. Weird.”

Buck turns his head to Eddie, looking nothing less than borderline terrified. “Weird? Like a ‘this is so good that it doesn’t feel real’ weird or a ‘too much, too fast’ weird?”

With a roll of their eyes, Eddie leans closer into Buck. “The first one, obviously. It’s a lot, but it’s not too much. You’re not too much. Okay?”

Buck’s birthmark darkens as he flushes red with embarrassment and he opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie cuts in before he can. “I know you, Buck. I know how you get -” Eddie pressed a kiss to Buck’s temple, “-I love you. And I love being your…”

They trail off a little, not too sure what word to use for themself in this situation. Because Eddie’s not Buck’s boyfriend. Certainly not his girlfriend. And ‘partner’ feels so ill-fitting for just what the two are.

“My Eddie,” Buck adds on with a definitiveness that seems to put the topic to bed, “You’re my Eddie.” 

Eddie likes how it feels, how it sounds. Their entire body is lit up by it, honestly. They’re Buck’s Eddie. And Buck is Eddie’s Buck.

They pull away from Buck slightly so that they’re able to scoot over enough to see all of Buck’s face. “Yeah, I love being your Eddie.”

Buck beams, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “Good,” he says, “because, I’m sorry, you don’t get a choice. I’m not letting you go.”

Eddie leans in closer, this time with a kiss to Buck’s lips. A light peck that they let Buck deepen with the repositioning of the warm hand that was on their shoulder down on their lower back, pulling Eddie in.

“Okay, okay, stop,” Eddie says with a laugh, patting Buck’s chest as they sit back, “As much as I’d love to continue, there’s a fourteen year old down the hallway who would actually die if he overheard anything.”

With a sigh like he’s trying to compose himself, Buck let his head fall against the headboard. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’ll just have to wait ‘til he goes to the movies with Denny and Mara tonight, won’t I?”

Eddie had never really understood what the fuss was all about when it came to sex before Buck. Sure, they had enjoyed it well enough with Shannon and Ana and Marisol. But that was because it felt good to make them feel good.

It never really mattered if Eddie didn’t finish, as long as their partner was satisfied and content.

Eddie had liked sex.

But it turns out that Eddie loves sex. Loves foreplay and teasing and grinding and sex so passionate they can’t speak or think and sex so playful that they can’t help burst out laughing, loves all of the other stuff they’d tried with Buck in the past month ー both giving and receiving.

Loves being tied up and taken apart on Buck’s fingers, loves bending Buck over the dresser and eating him out like they haven’t had a decent meal in weeks. Rushed handjobs in the shower, lazy blowjobs in the morning. 

It’s all amazing. It’s all so affirming too.

Eddie echoes Buck’s sigh, theirs with more of a tender longing to it.

Buck is silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling until he eventually readjusts his position and straightens up again. Eddie can tell that he’s thinking ー thinking about something serious no less ー by the way his bottom lip sticks out into a subtle pout and his eyes focus on nothing in particular.

Eddie lightly bumps Buck’s shoulder with their own. “You good? You’re looking very deep in thought.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Promise,” Buck replies, but his expression doesn’t change. “I was just thinking about, well…”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, urging Buck to continue. “Well what?”

“Are you just…,” Buck starts before scrunching up his brow. After a beat, he continues, albeit hesitantly. “I know you’re they. But I was wondering if you were just they? Like, those are your pronouns - no exceptions?”

Eddie opens their mouth to answer but falls short of actually speaking. Because, well, what other options did they have?

Eddie wasn't a guy, wasn't a he. Didn't feel any connection towards she either. So that made them…them  

Buck seems to take Eddie's silence as something other than utter confusion, because he scoots a little closer and continues.

“I just mean, I saw on Tiktok that there are heaps of options. Pronoun wise.” Buck's hands open and close a few times on top of the blankets, like he's fighting the urge to reach for his phone and show the videos to Eddie right now. “And a lot of people use more than one set of pronouns and I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything else that felt right that you hadn't mentioned yet, ya'know?”

And Eddie just blinks, because no. They didn't know. They were under the impression that there were three options and that they had chosen the gender neutral one. That was how it had felt at least.

And they/them felt good. Really good. But the concept of there being more was baffling. And a little daunting.

“But if they/them is what fits you then you don't need any other pronouns obviously!” Buck is quick to blurt out, floundering for a moment, eyes wide.

Eddie just blinks a few more times with a shake of their head. “No, no, it's fine. I just…well, I didn't know there was anything else to choose from,” they say sheepishly. 

They were meant to be the non-binary one and yet Buck seemed to know more about everything. Was there some kind of gender 101 handbook he was given that was meant to have been handed to Eddie?

Buck doesn't miss a beat, just nods in understanding and grabs his phone off the bedside table. 

He taps away for a moment before letting out a verbal “a-ha!” A second later, Eddie's phone buzzes from where it’s plugged into its charger.

“I just sent you this one account I was looking at. They go through, like, a different pronoun every week.”

Eddie's eyebrows shoot up, almost comically. “Wh-Every week? How many pronouns are there?,” they can't help but exclaim.

Buck laughs, throwing the covers off of his legs and swinging them over the side on the bed. “Okay, maybe we’re jumping in the deep end a little there.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Eddie huffs as they watch Buck move over to the dresser and rummage around for a t-shirt.

“Besides, I’m not, ya’know, exactly like the people on TikTok, am I?”, they continue with a smile. It’s meant to be a joke, an obvious one at that they think, but Buck’s head pops out from the neck of his shirt with a look of confusion.

“Well, you’re not a TikToker, if that’s what you mean?”

Eddie stiffens slightly. Oh no, it’s becoming a thing. A topic of conversation. Something Eddie had been actively trying to avoid for the past month.

They try to busy themself, pulling themself off the bed as nonchalantly as they can. 

“C’mon, it’s not a big deal or anything. I’m just not…,” they wave a hand around in a vague gesture, “I’m not exactly what people think of when they think ‘non-binary’. They’re all, ya’know, non-binary-” Eddie tries to put a little more emphasis on the word, “- and I’m me.”

Eddie grabs a hoodie from the hook on the back of the door, pulling it on and mentally preparing to drop this and move on to making coffee and toast. But when they turn back to look at Buck, it’s clear that isn’t going to happen.

“Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?” He looks genuinely flummoxed. Eddie might as well have been speaking in tongues at this rate. 

“It doesn’t matter, forget it.” They try to brush off, but they know it’s useless now. Buck won’t concede now that he thinks there’s something wrong.

“No, it does matter. ”

“Come on. Look at me, Buck,” Eddie says, exasperated. They're in boring plaid pajama pants that they've had for years. Probably pre-the move to L.A. The hoodie they've got on is navy blue and was once Buck's once-upon-a-time before Eddie took it for themself. 

They look no different to how they did a year ago. Five years ago. Not really. 

There's nothing about Eddie that's even remotely androgynous. Nothing about them that isn't, well, binary.

They know how they feel. And they also know that they look like a guy. Eddie didn't want to do a wardrobe overhaul or anything, they felt comfortable in the clothes they wore and the few extra rings they had started wearing. Maddie had done their eyeliner once when they all went out to lunch together - a thin wing on the top with a liner pen and then the bottom smudged and smoked out with a pencil, but Eddie's hands were too unsteady to ever consider trying to do it themself.

The craziest thing they had considered was maybe getting their ears pierced. But even then, it wasn't like they could do much with that considering there were work guidelines to follow.

And all that came with a cost. 

An endless feeling of finally knowing who they were, but not knowing how to be it.

“Am I missing something?” Buck looks around a little like there are hidden cameras in the room that he's not privy to. “W-Why would you-”

“Because I'm doing it wrong, Buck!” 

It feels almost like a dam bursting open. Eddie isn’t able to stop the words that rush out of them, face red with frustration and exhaustion and rage. “I wouldn’t fit in. I don’t fit! I'm not - I don't look right. I didn't even change my name!”

They’d thought about names a lot. Eddie’s mom had always said if their first born had been a girl that they would’ve named her Lucia Olivia. Of course, the name went unused and Sophia ended up with the middle name Olivia and Adriana with the middle name Lucia.

And as pretty as the name was, it wasn’t Eddie’s. Never would be.

Buck’s face twists into confusion, as if Eddie was saying something completely insane.

“Eddie, you’re not…You look like you, Eddie. Your name is your name,” he says,  “U-Unless you mean you wanted to, I-I dunno, look into, like, transitioning? Hormones? Is that what you-”

“No, Buck, I don’t want to go on fucking hormones,” Eddie snaps. Buck’s mouth shuts with an audible click of his teeth. 

Eddie clenches their fists by their side, unsure of what to do with the all-consuming heat that is running through them. “I’m just supposed to be non-binary, right? That’s the whole thing isn’t it, I say I’m non-binary so I’m non-binary?”

They phrase it as a question, but Buck makes no move to answer. He just stares at Eddie with an unreadable stillness that Eddie can’t stand.

“I grow my hair out an extra, what, inch? Buy a couple of shirts from the women’s section of the thrift store. Let May buy me a pronoun pin that I’m never going to wear, ever. And that’s my grand reintroduction into the world.”

Eddie doesn’t even have a point to their ramblings. There’s no one to blame for their anger and exhaustion, it just is. Building up and surrounding Eddie constantly. Buck just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“Chris still calls me ‘Dad’ for God's sake! And I want him to! I want to be his dad! But a dad means a man. So what the fuck do I do with that?” They shake their head with an almost paradoxical laugh. 

“I'm just fucking bad at being non-binary.” 

It’s humiliating to admit. More painful than any of the self-flagellation they had ever put themself through before. Because this is something they had brought on themself. There was no fixing this. Eddie was just intrinsically broken at their core. 

“And all I can ever think,” they continue, “is maybe I was wrong. Maybe every one feels like this and I'm fucking overexaggerating and confusing myself.”

Eddie blinks back tears, helpless and unsure of what else to do than look Buck in the eyes and tell him what the root of it all is; “Because no one is ever going to see me and think I’m anything other than a man.”

They can feel the anxiety growing and shifting in their stomach and reaching their lungs in a way that makes it almost too difficult to breathe. Buck looks just as pained, flinching as if he’s been physically hit.

Because the truth hurts, Eddie thinks.

But, shockingly, insanely, despite it all, Buck shakes his head and says, “You’re wrong. I see you, Eddie. I’ve always seen you, and I always will.”

And, damnit, if that doesn’t make Eddie want to throw up. Don’t say that, they want to scream, don’t say that because I can’t deal with it if you’re just saying it to be nice.

Buck doesn’t give up, doesn’t back down. Of course he doesn't. Eddie thinks he may be physically incapable of doing so.

“You said it was like puzzle pieces fitting together and getting to finally see the full picture, and you were right. It makes sense, you make sense. And even if you didn’t, that doesn’t make this any less real.”

Eddie feels trapped, the walls closing in. Too good to be true. They shake their head, mouth scrunched up. They can't cry. If they start crying then they won't be able to stop.

“Buck, I can’t-”

“You don’t have to!,” Buck exclaims before Eddie can get another word in. It startles them a little with its abruptness and they take a half step back.

Buck takes a deep breath and steps forward to close the gap between them, placing his hands on Eddie’s shoulders.

“Let me. Let me carry it, let me take care of it. You don’t have to do anything.”

Eddie knows that Buck doesn’t ask for much, especially when it comes to relationships. He wants to know that someone will stay and he wants someone to take care of.

He thrives on the smallest, minutest, mundanest displays of affection; when Eddie eats a meal he’s cooked and tells him it was good without prompting. When Eddie asks Buck to rub their back while they’re watching TV together so that Buck has something to do with his hands beyond biting his fingernails. When Eddie pretends to be asleep so that Buck can ‘wake up’ first and watch them breathe.

Eddie isn’t used to it. Being the kind of person someone wants to take care of. They’d spent a lifetime being the one to do the caretaking - and they like it. Liked giving.

But so did Buck. And Buck was going to force them to share the load. 

Eddie slumps forward against Buck’s hands until their head is buried in the side of his neck.

“I just want to feel normal,” they croak out. A deep-set exhaustion runs through their body, despite being awake for less than an hour.

Buck’s arms wrap around Eddie’s waist, tilting his head to rest it against the top of Eddie’s. “I’m glad you’re not. I love that you’re weird. I want to be weird with you forever.”

Eddie squeezes their eyes shut, shaking their head as much as possible while pressed against Buck.

“Buck, I-” Eddie doesn’t have anything else to really say, nothing that they haven’t already said and nothing that Buck hasn’t already said for them.

Buck’s hand traces up Eddie’s back and over the subtle bump under their shirt where the raised skin of a bullet scar lays on their shoulder. “I will carry this for you. I want to, okay?” His hand settles on the back of Eddie’s neck, catching the ends of Eddie’s hair in his fingers. “You can have no gender or a hundred and forty seven genders and it doesn’t matter. Who fucking cares?” 

Eddie let out a wet sob of a laugh, pulling back from Buck. Their bottom lip trembles at the saccharine expression on his face. He means it. He truly wouldn’t give a fuck. Eddie doesn’t know how to go about being loved so unconditionally. It’s new. Something that had only been previously reserved for Pepa and Abuela. 

They’d grown used to conditions.

Buck’s hands move a final time, shifting to hold Eddie’s face. He rubs a thumb soft and feather-light over Eddie’s cheek bone and Eddie struggles to suck in a breath. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“And you are doing it right because you are doing it. And I love you. Every part of you.”

The inevitable happens; they start to cry and, as they had predicted, they can’t stop. Tears well up and fall faster than they can control and their breath catches and hitches in such a way that makes their lungs ache.

Buck takes a deep breath, trying to urge Eddie to follow along, and he collects the tears as best he can with gentle swipes of his thumb.

“I feel like all I’ve done lately is make you focus all your effort on me,” they’re able to say after a few exaggerated inhales and exhales to settle themself, “Even now that I’m back at work, I feel like you just try and shoulder all this shit for me.”

“Well, if it helps, I’m pretty sure Bobby’s not coming back to work and is actually gonna retire and that Chim’s being offered Captain. That’s something I’ve been worried about that has nothing to do with you,” Buck says with a crooked smile and awkward laugh. Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, eyes wide.

“Sorry, what? Where did you hear that?”

Buck just shrugs, clearly trying to make it less or a big deal that is obviously was to him. “Nothing’s official yet. We were talking yesterday when I came over to help build some Ikea furniture because he’s still not meant to do any physical stuff yet. He was talking about all of Chim’s leadership qualities and I, uh, realized pretty quickly what he was trying to do. Like, warm me up to the idea.”

Eddie considers the prospect of Captain Han. It isn’t completely outlandish in the slightest. Out of all of the 118, Chim had been there the longest. He had the most experience. And while Hen had all of the gumption and skill it would take to be a captain ー and even though she had acted as interim captain before ー she had always expressed that her interests lay in paramedicine first and foremost and Eddie wasn’t sure she’d be willing to give that up.

The idea of the 118 without Bobby though, that was something that was harder to envision.

“Did that help? Or did that make you feel worse?” Buck asks, scanning Eddie’s face, “I can’t really tell.”

Eddie smiles and sighs, leaning back against Buck’s chest. The position is a little uncomfortable, having to crane their neck down so much due to the fact the height difference between them isn’t enough for Eddie to fit against Buck’s chest as easily as they do the crook of his neck. It feels right regardless. “I mean, it took my mind off everything else for a second, so I guess it had the desired effect.”

Buck’s face lights up. “Well then, mission accomplished!" 

They’ve not even had breakfast yet, and Eddie is emotionally exhausted and ready to go back to bed. It’s almost as if Buck can read their mind however, as he steps back with a determined nod. 

“Okay, no, we gotta lock in,” he says as he takes Eddie’s shoulders in his hands and shakes them around playfully, “This is meant to be our super amazing, romantic and happy Monthiversery! No more sad shit!”

Eddie nods in faux seriousness as best they can while being jostled around. “Got it. I’m my father’s child, I can divorce myself from my emotions.”

Buck stops abruptly and takes a hand from Eddie’s shoulder so he can poke them softly in the centre of their chest. “Not funny,” he scolds despite the smile on his face, “And not what I meant and you know it. God, and you wonder why Chris is so sassy.”

It’s a familiar position, although Eddie’s used to being on the other end of it.

Hand on a shoulder, thumb dipping close to a collar bone, index finger to chest.

It feels oddly comforting. Mainly because it’s Buck. Buck is comforting in himself.

Eddie can feel their bottom lip jut out in a way that’s meant to say ‘you always know just what to do and just what to say’ in not so many words. Buck, however, reads it as ‘you should kiss me right now.’

Which is exactly what he does.

It’s the correct response to either interpretation. 

Eddie never thought they’d ever get to have this.

A kiss from their boyfriend to cheer them up when they feel like shit. 

A day where they get to have French toast with apple juice on the side for breakfast and street corn from their favorite food truck for lunch and way too many margaritas while they watch The Cheetah Girls and try to drunkenly prove to Buck that they remember the dances.

A son who calls them cringe and old and embarrassing, but quickly gains a reputation at school for always standing up and fighting for the queer kids in his class.

It’s good. 

Like the life they have and the one they’re still building really is something to admire and be proud of.

Not that they ever felt anything but pride towards that.

Because there’s always been Chris. And Buck. And the 118. And Pepa. And Abuela. And Adriana & Sophia. And so much unconditional love.

But a month in and Eddie thinks they could get used to feeling pride toward themself for once. 

And it feels really good.

In a strange - but most definitely welcome - turn of events, it turns out that Abuela loves telling people that her grandchild is gay. Or ‘homosexual and not binary’, as she keeps saying.

Buck has found that particularly endearing and sometimes will just look at Eddie, stifle a laugh, point at them and say; ‘Not binary.’

Which, in Abuela’s defence, isn’t untrue.

They aren’t.

Does Abuela understand what non-binary is? No. Not a clue. She still calls Eddie ‘he’ and ‘him’ and is unable to avoid the rigid, built-in gendering that’s just a part of the Spanish language.

But she’s been a prime example of not understanding something but loving and accepting it regardless.

She loves Eddie, and she loves Buck, so she’s overjoyed that they’re dating. And telling the other women at church that her Eddie is a they gives her a real rush.

Pepa is just as bad. Well, not bad. But intense. She’s got a new bumper sticker on her car that reads ‘someone I love is non-binary!’ alongside the four ‘proud parent of an insert college name graduate’ ones she has for all of her kids.

Pepa had gone so far as to make Tio Paco pick up a cake when Eddie had come out, and had invited Abuela and every single one of Eddie’s cousins still living in L.A around for dinner. 

It had been nice catching up with everyone. Eating way too much food, watching telenovelas with too many plot twists to count, hearing cousin Alysia talk about working at the veterinarian’s clinic with her husband Cam, only for Pepa and Abuela to share a knowing look.

“Well,” Abuela had said with a smile, “our Eddito and their boyfriend Buck are both firefighters of course, so they know all about working with a partner!”

In all honesty, Pepa and Abuela were probably more interested in Eddie being with Buck than anything to do with Eddie’s gender or lack thereof.

Eddie hadn’t told their parents about it, any of it. And they probably never would.

It wouldn’t be worth the fighting and misunderstandings and scoffs and rolled eyes that would follow. It wasn’t that Helena and Ramon were necessarily homophobic or transphobic to any violent degree, but they wouldn’t get it. Especially if it was their kid.

If it was Eddie.

Maybe one day the two would work it out, realize that Buck never moved out of Eddie’s place, or would see an engagement announcement sometime in the next few years on Facebook, or be corrected by a cousin or aunt or in-law who forgot that not everyone knew.

But, for now, what Ramon and Helena didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

And Eddie was more than content to spend their day-off doing chores and getting groceries and coming home to their partner and their son.

Although they really would appreciate some help trying to get all these bags from the driveway into the house…

“No, no, everyone stay where you are,” Eddie sarcastically calls out, pushing the front door open with their hip as they try to balance their keys in one hand, phone in the other and the multiple bags hanging off their arms, “Don’t all rush to help me at once.”

They dump the bags on the floor with a dramatic huff, letting the door slam shut behind them.

The sound seems to be enough to get Chris’ attention from where he's sitting on the couch with his Airpods in. “Oh. Hey Dad,” he greets flatly, as he typically does nowadays, “You need me to bring in bags?”

Eddie blinks, looking down at the bags by their feet and then back up to Chris. “You kinda missed the boat on that one, kid.”

Chris eyes the bags himself, peering over his glasses before shrugging and looking back down at his phone. “I mean, at least I offered. Buck’s too busy making a mess in the kitchen that you’ll have to clean up later,” he says teasingly, ensuring he’s just loud enough for his voice to reach the kitchen.

“Not true!” Buck replies, “I am making these brownies for your dad, thank you very much! And I’ll clean it up myself! Eddie, don’t listen to him! Your kid is a liar!”

With a laugh and a shake of their head, Eddie follows the voice - and the smell of brownies in the oven - into the kitchen. Leaning against the doorway, Eddie watches Buck wipe his hands clean on a paper towel and spare a glance to the oven timer before he looks over to Eddie with wide, adoring eyes.

“Anything frozen you want me to put away?” Buck asks as he steps closer. He places his hands, big and warm and with cocoa powder still under the nailbeds, onto Eddie’s waist and Eddie’s quick to shove their phone and keys into their pocket so their hands are free to settle on top of Buck’s forearms.

Eddie gave a shake of their head as their thumbs ghost up Buck’s arms until they reach the dark lines of the tattoo on his left arm. “Nah, I mainly just got snacks and some produce. And milk, but I’m sure it can wait a couple of minutes.”

Buck smiles, and then casually gives Eddie a soft kiss on the lips. Eddie can taste the beeswax of Buck’s lip balm when they pull apart. They don’t think they’ll never get sick of that. 

“Perfect. The brownies have, like, five minutes left and once I have them cooling we can divide and conquer,” Buck says as a piece of Eddie’s hair falls loose from where it’s been tucked behind their ear and flops in front of their eyes. It’s been probably the only thing about growing their hair out a little that they’ve disliked - having to deal with the longer strands at the front that seem to have a mind of their own.

Buck brushes the hair back, and continues the movement so his fingers touch the back of the silver moon-shaped stud in Eddie’s right ear for a moment. “These are nice,” he says softly, “Are these some the ones that Karen and Hen got you?”

When Eddie had come out, they’d found themselves becoming the number #1 donation bin for Hen, Karen, Maddie, Athena and May to hand off any old jewellery, or any other kind of accessory they didn’t wear anymore. And Eddie wasn’t complaining. They’d realized fast that they were, what May had referred to as, a chronic over-accessorizer.

Rings, belts, necklaces, scarves, bracelets, brooches. Eddie was gathering quite the collection.

Eddie wore pretty basic outfits, and it was what things they could pair them with that they liked best. It had also given Eddie the push to get their ears pierced after receiving an old jewelry box full of earrings of all shapes and sizes that the Wilson family had offered up after Mara had picked through and taken a few pairs for herself.

These earrings, a moon for one ear and a sun for the other, were different though.

“Uh, no,” Eddie replies, voice low, as they reach a hand up to fidget with the backing, “These are from Chris actually. He was out with some friends the other day and they went thrift shopping, and he found these and got ‘em for me.”

Eddie decides to omit the part where they had burst into tears upon Chris handing them the tiny plastic bag they had come packaged in and Chris trying awkwardly to comfort them with a pat on the back. 

Buck gave a coo of endearment. “Oh my God, that’s fucking adorable. And he’s lucky he has his headphones in right now because he’d probably die if he knew you’d told me that.”

Fifteen was the age of hating everything and everyone, and feeling like everything and everyone hated you back. But one of Chris’ defining traits has always been kindness. He always wants nothing more than for everyone to feel like they matter. And he could be as apathetic and moody as he wanted, Eddie always saw that kindness bleeding through into everything Chris did.

Eddie shrugs with an almost bashful smile, stepping to the side of Buck so they can shuffle further into the kitchen. “I know. He’s pretty great.”

As they step away, Eddie’s able to properly see what Chris was talking about before however. The kitchen is a fucking mess. They’re not sure how Buck managed it.

“Okay, please avert your judgmental eyes anywhere else,” Buck playfully pleads, bumping Eddie with his hip, “For example, there was some mail. Go look at that.”

With a muttered ‘yeah, yeah’, Eddie spots the stack of letters on the counter and begins to thumb through them. Water bill, gas bill, a Jehovah’s Witness pamphlet that Eddie scrunches up into a ball on the spot. The letter at the bottom has the LAFD logo in the corner, so Eddie pays it a little more attention.

Work letters were never usually exciting. It was mainly just general department updates - usually things that had no effect on either Eddie or Buck. The strange thing is that there’s only one letter instead of two.

This isn’t the usual ‘the LAFD is having a fundraiser/attending a charity event/doing a public appearance so pretty please come’ type faire. 

There’s no letter for Buck. And the letter that has arrived is unusual too.

Because it’s not addressed to Mr. Edmundo Diaz as it typically would.

The name written at the top reads;

Mx. Eddie Diaz.

They’d filled out the online form about changing their name and gender marker on work documents the same week Chim had officially been signed in as captain.

In with the new and all that.

But, truthfully, they had forgotten about it. Eddie didn’t get much physical mail from work, all their payslips went straight email and work schedules would typically just be shared around via a screenshot of the shift calendar.

It had been a long while since Eddie had seen their full name on any LAFD documentation.

And this was the first time they had seen their new full name written down…well, anywhere.

Eddie wasn’t sure if they’d never try and get their gender legally changed in any other official way. They'll probably be writing down ‘Name: Edmundo Ramon Diaz, Sex: Male’ on legal documents for the rest of their life. It wasn’t something they were too worried about. 

But it still felt nice to know that at least one place has them down as Eddie Isabel Diaz.

They open the letter as carefully as possible, as if the name will revert back if they do it wrong.

Hilariously, the contents of the letter itself is nothing. An automated confirmation notice.

This letter is to confirm a requested change of details with the Los Angeles Fire Department as displayed below.

It feels unreal that it’s as simple as that. 

The shift from Mr. to Mx. had felt like it was a natural progression of things. Eddie just…wasn’t a Mr anymore. The middle name had been harder. Eddie had never really felt any connection to their middle name. It was more of a formality.

And, if anything, the product of a little laziness on their parents’ part.

They’d sat up going through lists of names for days.

And then they came out to Abuela and she had hugged them so tight and wiped away their tears and said; “Oh, mi pequeña mariposa. My little butterfly. I always knew you would find your way out of del capullo.” She took Eddie’s face in her hands and looked at them with teary eyes. “Look at you. So beautiful. My Eddie.”

Eddie was named after their abuelo who loved old fashioned cars and baseball and knew every Clint Eastwood movie like the back of his hand just like Eddie was with Tom Cruise movies.

Naturally, their middle name had to be that of the woman who used to ballroom dance and collected little knick-knacks & tchotchkes and had a set of big, brown eyes that could make the strongest of men swoon.

It felt clandestine. 

There was almost a then and now. It was like Eddie knew Edmundo. Knew all the shit he had been through, all of the pain he felt and carried and all of the hatred he felt towards himself for reasons he couldn’t articulate.

And Eddie felt a lot of love for Edmundo, and had wished him the best of luck. But they couldn’t be him anymore. 

Eddie saw glimpses of themself in old photos of Edmundo. In his wide, dentist-white smile as he held trophies up with Rosie de la Torre at dance competitions. In the bunny-ears he’d make behind his sisters’ heads at family barbecues. In the drunken-flushed selfies taken at prom on Shannon Campbell’s iPhone 4.

Eddie has a real soft spot for Edmundo. 

But they have to be themself now. And they intend to make the most of it.

Refolding the letter back into its rectangle, Eddie leans onto the kitchen counter and watches Buck fumble around the space for his lobster claw shaped oven mit. Chris is laughing at something on his phone. Eddie has a mug on the drying rack by the sink that says; I don’t have a gender, but I do have a caffeine addiction. 

Everything just fits so perfectly into place. 

It leaves Eddie winded as the realization settles in.

They really do love their life. They’re happy. They are surrounded by people they love, and they are loved in return. 

And they didn’t have to compromise. Or make do. Or hide. Or suffer.

Sometimes Eddie grieves that Shannon hadn’t gotten to know them like this. But Eddie thinks she always knew. Shannon was too smart not to have known. 

In another life, where the world was kinder and things were different, they’re certain that she would’ve called Eddie out on their bullshit years ago. 

But there’s no time to dwell on what-ifs and what-could-have-beens and the thousands of choices Eddie wishes they had made differently.

They’re about to unpack groceries with their boyfriend, and then they’ll sit on the couch and watch SVU reruns, and they’ll drop Chris off at physical therapy, and later they’ll pick weeds out in the garden while blasting Orville Peck on Buck’s cheap Bluetooth speaker and sing along at the top of their lungs, and after dinner they’ll eat so many brownies that they feel sick.

And tomorrow they’ll go to work and come home and do it all again to some capacity.

As Eddie Diaz; parent and partner and lover of Tom Cruise movies and an openly proud non-binary firefighter with firehouse 118 at the LAFD. 

And they are so, so happy that that’s who they get to be.