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Buck’s relationship with New Year’s Eve is complicated.
When he was a little kid, he’d never make it to midnight. Every year, he’d swear to Maddie that he could do it, then would promptly pass out after ten o’clock. Every time, she’d laugh and softly stroke his head as he slowly fell asleep.
When he got older, his parents would always throw parties with their lavish friends, and Buck was always forced to show face and be on his best behavior. It was fine when Maddie was there. They’d hang out in the corner of the living room, gouging on whatever leftover Christmas chocolate they had.
But then she left, and Buck was alone. New Year's Eve wasn’t as fun anymore.
As a teenager, he’d steal whatever alcohol his parents wouldn’t notice missing and hang out down the road, where the creek is. Usually, he was alone, sitting down in the tall grass and sipping on a few beers, neurotically checking the time on his beat-up watch for midnight. He always told himself that when the clock ticked over, he’d feel better, but he never did.
As he grew older, eventually, he wasn’t alone on New Year's Eve anymore. He’d go to parties, get wasted, and kiss a girl, but deep down, something still felt like it was missing within Buck. An emptiness that’s unexplainable.
After he left Hershey, driving away in Maddie’s old Jeep without ever looking back, New Year’s Eves were celebrated in the most bizarre of places all over the country. Buck was finally gone—he was free, but he still wasn’t happy.
And then he met the 118, and suddenly ringing in the New Year wasn’t a hassle to endure, just to be let down all over again. It wasn’t getting drunk just for the sake of getting drunk. It was new. It was exciting. It was family.
Every new year was exhilarating, whether it was spent between calls on shift, huddled on the station’s roof, cheering with their coffee mugs to prepare for the rush of post-new-year emergencies, or in Bobby and Athena’s back garden, everyone there with a smile on their face.
This year, though, is different.
Because there is no Bobby.
His lack of presence is felt in the air. There’s an unspeakable gloom shadowing the party, but still they try to prevail. They’re all gathered in Hen and Karen’s backyard this year, everyone remarkably off-shift in some lottery-winning way.
There was a barbecue, managed by Buck and Chim; the leftovers haven’t been wrapped up yet, growing cold on the table. The youngest kids have tired themselves out. Mara staggered down to bed at eleven with Jee-Yun trailing behind her. Baby Robbie was put down in a makeshift crib hours ago.
May and Harry are gallivanting around the icebox, sneaking out drinks whenever Athena’s eyes aren’t tracking Harry. They’re giggling nearby with Ravi, staring down at something playing on May’s phone.
Maddie and Chim are wrapped in a blanket beside a small fire pit. Hen’s anxiously keeping an eye on it, poking around with a stick and adding more firewood while Athena sits by. Karen watches her wife with glassy eyes, the champagne in her hand going straight to her head.
Denny and Chris are still sitting at the table, engulfed in the new gaming device Denny is holding. Buck peers at them a moment longer than necessary, the idea of Chris being back here this year still surprising him. It shouldn’t, for the months that he was gone, Buck still believed deep down that Chris would find his way back home, but it does. He missed him too much.
Last year, Buck had called in the new year while sitting on Eddie’s couch, just the two of them, as a perpetual sadness wrung in the house that not even the holidays could fix. He held Eddie’s hand in the silence as the fireworks exploded on the TV. It was somber, the absence of Chris feeling like a phantom limb, but there was still nowhere else Buck would rather be than by Eddie’s side.
“Hey,” that liquid gold voice says, appearing at his shoulder. Involuntarily, Buck smiles shyly when his eyes meet Eddie’s. They’re standing in the corner of the yard, by the fence, watching everyone. “What are you racking your brain over?” he asks and sips his beer. Eddie’s words are slightly slurred, having gone toe-to-toe on drinks with Karen, which is always a mistake.
Buck’s had way more than enough himself too. His thoughts jumble up a little with Eddie standing so close to him. “New year's this year. Or last year? The one that started this year,” he answers.
Eddie chuckles, but it peters out. “Yeah, that was rough,” he says, remembering the quietness of their night exactly one year ago. “Did I ever thank you for that?”
Buck’s heart flutters at that. He says it as if it were a hardship for Buck to be there for him, to care. He grins bashfully. “You didn’t need to. I didn’t wanna be anywhere else.”
Eddie smiles back, but it’s soft, like he knows Buck means what he says. He doesn’t even try to pull-his-leg like he always does when Buck says something small but meaningful.
“You know what else I was thinking about?” Buck asks. Eddie hums in response. “I’ve got no one to kiss this year.”
Eddie snorts. “You had no one to kiss last year, either.”
Buck shrugs. “Not my fault I got dumped right before the holidays,”
“No, it’s not,” Eddie says, weirdly sternly, before exhaling into his beer. “Man, I hate Tommy,” he grumbles under his breath like he couldn’t hold it in any longer.
At that, Buck bursts into an unruly laughter. Eddie watches him, pleased, his eyes doing the talking his words can’t. They’re glowing under the old Christmas lights still hung in Hen and Karen’s garden. He chuckles lightly too. It’s a stark difference from their New Year’s Eve last year. Silence replaced by laughter.
“You two were best friends,” Buck points out.
Eddie shakes his head. “Hey, no. I only have one best friend, and that’s you,” he says. Traitorously, Buck’s cheeks burn. It’s always a nice sentiment to hear, a reminder that no bond is better than the one between them. “And he broke your heart, so I hate him,” Eddie concludes.
Buck bites back a snort. “You’re so petty.”
Eddie sips his drink but grimaces, disagreeing. “No, I’m not.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Buck nods. He likes that Eddie can be petty, he finds it fun. “Say, you seen Josh recently?”
“It’s the new year, it’s meant to be a fresh start. Don’t invoke the names of old enemies,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes and shoving his shoulder into Buck’s, but he doesn’t move it away after.
Buck doesn’t stop laughing. “It’s only 11:54, so not the new year yet,” he points out.
“Yeah, whatever,” Eddie says and sips his drink. He turns his head to properly look at Buck again, catching his eyes. “You really that bothered by having nobody to kiss?”
The answer, though Buck doesn’t really want to admit it out loud, is yes. He looks around the garden, and all he sees are couples and families. There’s Maddie and Chim, Hen and Karen, and Athena with the kids.
Buck wishes he could have that too.
He looks back at Eddie. “It’s just—” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I thought that by now I’d have my life more put together, you know? Like the job, the house, the partner, the family, the stability of it all. Well, I guess I’m making some progress with the house.” Buck notices something in Eddie shifts at the mention of his new house. He seems uneasy about it. “But… I still feel like I’m falling behind. I’ve spent too many New Year’s with nobody to kiss at midnight. It weighs on you, I guess,” he says, honestly.
Eddie remains silent for a moment, like he’s thinking and trying to process Buck’s words. He doesn’t look at him; instead, he stares down at the jasmine flowers Buck had planted as a birthday present for Hen.
Buck shifts on his feet from Eddie’s unusual silence, but he doesn’t dare speak. He waits for Eddie.
Eventually, so soft that Buck almost misses it, Eddie says, “We could kiss.”
The words hit Buck like a freight train. His eyes widen. All he can hear ringing on repeat in his head is Maddie’s voice telling him it wouldn’t be so crazy.
But Buck can’t be in love with Eddie.
And Eddie isn’t in love with him.
“Uh, what?” Buck coughs once he finally remembers how to speak again.
Eddie shrugs, his eyes dance around the air. “I mean, I also haven’t kissed anyone on New Year’s in… God— honestly, it feels like forever. It could be nice.”
Buck gulps. He has to manually tell his body to breathe. “It could be nice? Kissing me would be nice?” he blurts out.
“Yeah, could be,” Eddie says, shakily. He finally looks back up at Buck, his gaze afraid.
Confused, Buck nods his head. “Uh, okay,” he stutters. His brain is buzzing, trying to make sense of Eddie’s suggestion. It would solve Buck’s problem, but it would also just create new problems.
Buck doesn’t think he could kiss Eddie only the one time. He wouldn’t be able to hold himself back; he knows that. Once he gets a taste, there’s no going back. Buck would never move on.
Still, he nods. “So we could kiss, platonically, at midnight.”
Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “Well, um. I don’t know if I’d describe it like that,” he says shyly.
Buck whips his head to stare him down. “Huh?” he gasps.
“Just that… It’s more than that,” Eddie says, like he isn’t currently altering the axis of Buck’s entire world.
Not platonically?
But Eddie’s straight—
“What do you mean?” Buck blurts. He really needs to know what Eddie means.
But before Eddie can even get the chance to mull over his words, Karen yelps loudly, “Only two minutes!”
The backyard erupts into quick chaos. Everyone jumps up, mixing together, pairing up, to stare up at the sky.
Suddenly, Eddie places his beer on a nearby bench and grabs Buck by his elbow and tugs. “C’mere,” he says as he pulls them to a slightly more secluded area of the backyard, behind a tree, further away from everyone else.
Buck is frazzled. His brain is overworking itself. He stutters, “E–Eddie, are you serious? You wanna kiss me?”
Eddie stands before him, a coy smile tugging his lips, but he’s nervous. His hand shakes slightly as it still grips Buck’s elbow. “It can’t hurt, right?” he attempts to sound calm.
But Buck thinks it could hurt.
It could hurt him too much, kissing Eddie only the one time when he knows that’s all he’ll get. That Eddie’s his straight best friend, and that’s all he’ll ever be. It’s just a favor to him, but to Buck, it’ll be everything.
Like always, Eddie immediately notices Buck’s internal spiralling.
He steps an inch closer, moving the hand on Buck’s arm to cup his cheek instead. His touch is callous against Buck’s face, and Buck doesn’t know how to breathe until Eddie whispers his name softly. “Buck. You trust me?”
The look on Eddie’s face is gentle, like how he watches Chris in the morning over the breakfast table. He’s relaxed, eyes trained to Buck’s. He’s so beautiful up close.
Buck gulps audibly. He nods, a little dumbfounded. “Y–yeah. ‘Course,” he breaths.
Eddie nods. “Trust me on this, then. Okay, bud?”
Buck makes the decision without even thinking about it. “Okay,” he whispers.
From across the yard, their friends begin counting down from ten, but Buck can’t move. He’s frozen in Eddie’s stare with his arms hanging from his sides, completely lifeless. Eddie caresses his cheek tenderly. His other hand moves to grip the back of Buck’s neck as he inches closer. Buck holds back a terrible sound escaping his mouth at the feeling of Eddie everywhere. He bites his lip. Eddie’s eyes catch onto it immediately. He looks hungry.
“Six, five…” their friends chant.
“Everything will be okay, alright? It’s just me,” Eddie promises.
Mindlessly, Buck nods.
“Three, two, one…”
Loud cheers burst throughout the garden, but Buck is completely oblivious to it all. All he can feel is Eddie’s coarse lips pressing against his own, the little scar Buck has memorized on his bottom lip brushing against him. He tastes like beer, the spiciness of the chorizo from the barbecue and something beautiful.
Eddie’s hand strokes his cheek faintly as he kisses slowly, then all at once. His grip on the back of Buck’s head tightens on impulse, his fingers pulling at the curling hair there.
Buck freezes for the slightest of seconds against his mouth, until he’s giving everything he’s got into this kiss. He throws caution to the wind. If this is his one chance at kissing Eddie, he’s going to make the most of it.
He grabs Eddie by the waist, pulling him in closer until their bodies are flush together. He grips Eddie’s jaw, angling his head to the side, and deepening the kiss. Eddie falls into it. His tongue breaks the barrier between their lips, poking Buck’s teeth and licking into his mouth like salvation.
Buck’s never felt more alive.
After a moment longer, when the fireworks tone down, they slowly pull apart. Eddie takes one single step back, looking dazed, with the tips of his fingers brushing against his swollen lips. Buck breaths heavily.
They don’t even get a second to process what they’ve just done until a body suddenly crashes into Eddie’s side. Christopher beams up at his dad, hugging him.
“Happy New Year, Dad!” he shouts, oblivious to what he’s just stepped into.
Buck watches as Eddie blinks back to life and smiles softly at his son. The sight of the two of them back together still tugs on Buck’s heartstrings.
“Happy New Year, Chris,” he replies as he rubs Chris’s back, his breath still a little shallow.
After, Chris turns to Buck, letting go of Eddie and sinking into him as well. “Happy New Year, Buck!”
Buck chuckles. He buries his nose into the top of Chris’s curls. “Happy New Year, buddy.”
It’s not long after that that Maddie comes crashing into Buck as well, all smiles and giggles as she wishes him a happy year. Hastily, they get sucked into the crowd, their friends cheering all around. Maddie pulls at Buck’s arm, and he loses Eddie amongst everyone.
It’s nearing closer to two in the morning when everyone eventually starts to turn in. Rideshares are called, Chris and Denny retreat to his room for a sleepover, Maddie and Chim crash on the couch so as not to wake the baby.
Buck bids his goodbyes, kissing cheeks and well wishes. His phone is open on a rideshare app, but a hand hovering over his own stops him before he can confirm the ride.
“Don’t,” Eddie says, standing beside him on the sidewalk. They haven’t had a moment alone all night since the kiss. “I already ordered one.”
“Ed—”
Eddie shakes his head. “Come home with me,” he says, adding a soft, “Please,” in a desperate voice.
And how is Buck meant to say no to that?
He nods like a fool. “Okay.”
The drive home is quiet, almost awkward. Buck’s palms are sweating; he rubs them profusely against his jeans as they shake a little. From beside him in the backseat, Eddie watches him in the corner of his eye. Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out and lays it on top of Buck’s, stopping his shaking.
Buck looks over at him, breathless. Slowly, Eddie turns over Buck’s hand until his palm is facing up, then he interlinks their fingers together, holding his hand.
Buck tries not to gasp, but it escapes anyway. Eddie catches it. He watches him, a smile tugging on his lips. Buck revels in it.
The drive continues in silence, with Eddie’s hand gripping his. He only lets go when they reach the house to get out of the car. Buck stumbles behind him, up the porch, through the front door and into the living room.
It’s strange at times, being back here.
Since Buck moved out, he’s spent less time than usual at the Diaz house. Every time he comes over, something feels off.
Maybe he just misses it too much.
They both stand awkwardly in the living room. Eddie lingers by his side for a second. He seems unsure of what to do now that they’re in the house.
“You want water?” he asks. Buck nods. Eddie nods back, walking into the kitchen. Buck follows him.
There, Eddie pours them both a glass, but it’s clear his mind is elsewhere, trapped in a prison of his own making. They drink their glasses in silence, standing feet apart by the island. Eddie wrings his hands together.
He’s nervous.
Buck eases knowing that. He’s not the only one.
Summoning up some of that firefighter bravery, Buck steps an inch closer to Eddie. “So,” he coughs. “We gonna talk about it?”
Eddie exhales shakily. He leans his back against the counter, hiding his burning face in his hands before running them through his already messed-up hair.
“I… kissed you,” he whispers.
Buck nods, matter-of-factly. “You did.”
“I kissed you,” Eddie repeats, stressed, like the thought pains him. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes tight.
Immediately, Buck feels the guilt. He puts himself in Eddie’s shoes.
Just because he kissed Buck doesn’t mean anything. Just because he held his hand doesn’t mean anything.
Buck bites his sorrows down. “Hey, Eddie,” he says quietly, as if easing a frightened animal. Eddie looks up at him, brown eyes wide. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”
The words kill Buck to say, but he needs to know Eddie is okay.
Eddie being okay is more important than his own feelings anyway.
Eddie doesn’t speak. He watches Buck, his nose twitches as his eyes dart all across Buck’s face to study him. Buck gives him a wary smile, trying to seem reassuring but failing. His hand rests on the counter by Eddie’s as he stands beside him.
“No, I—” Eddie chokes. “I’m sorry.”
Buck shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he replies instantly.
“Buck, I…” the words drift from Eddie’s tongue. He squeezes his eyes tight again.
Without fear, Buck grabs Eddie’s hand. “It’s just me,” he repeats Eddie’s words from earlier.
At that, Eddie softens everywhere. He relaxes. The hand hanging by his side shakes as he lifts it up and rests it on the side of Buck’s neck. Buck exhales as they both inch closer, his breath mixing in with Eddie’s.
Maybe he’s read this wrong.
“I—” Eddie begins. He whispers in a low voice, “I want this. I want you,”
Buck can’t help the tug of a smile hearing that. A sense of relief courses through his body. “You can have me. I want you, too,” he says.
The tip of Eddie’s finger traces Buck’s jaw. The feeling is electrifying, all of his synapses firing at once.
“I’ve felt this way for so long, too long. I didn’t know what to do. It scared me so much, Buck,” Eddie whispers with his lips close enough to touch.
“It’s okay. I’m scared too,” Buck confesses. He releases a breath. “But I love you, Eddie. I want all of this. More than just midnight kisses.”
Eddie’s eyes widen, but he smiles, and without warning, he crashes his lips into Buck’s again.
It’s softer than earlier, more timid, more reserved. Buck sinks into it. He wraps a hand around Eddie’s neck, pulling him in closer. He savors it, the taste of the rest of his life on the tip of his tongue.
“I love you,” Eddie exhales against his mouth. Buck’s smile beams too brightly to continue the kiss. He laughs joyfully. Eddie joins him, pressing his forehead against Buck’s and pulling him in.
“Is this how it’s always meant to feel?” Eddie asks.
“Mh?”
“Kissing someone you really love.”
Buck hums, his lips trailing against Eddie’s cheek. “I don’t know. I’ve never felt this way before.”
Eddie pulls back, with flushed cheeks and a soft grin. He looks beautiful. Buck strokes the hairs at the nape of his neck.
Contented, Eddie rests his head down on Buck’s shoulder, wrapping an arm around him. Buck can feel his heartbeat building rapidly. He holds Eddie.
They stand there in the dark of the kitchen for too long, memorizing the moment, until Eddie’s loud yawn interrupts.
Buck chuckles, but it's muffled by his mouth caught in Eddie’s hair. He glances down at his watch. “Okay, I think it’s bedtime.”
“As long as you’re staying,” Eddie says, planting a tiny kiss on Buck’s neck. “I’m exhausted.”
Buck rubs his back. “Of course.”
A minute passes and Eddie pulls away, looking as exhausted as he feels, and yet Buck still feels all fuzzy inside watching him.
He follows Eddie into the bathroom to brush their teeth. They giggle, making eyes in the mirror. Then in the bedroom, they strip down and crash into the bed, falling into their old routine when Buck lived in the house.
The reminder of that causes Buck to chuckle as he lies against the pillow that used to be his.
“What?” Eddie mumbles as he turns to face him, lying on his side.
Buck turns to his side as well to look back at him. “It’s just been a few months since I’ve been in this bed,” he replies.
Eddie rolls his eyes, sinking deeper into the sheets. “That’s your fault. You could’ve stayed here.”
“I didn’t feel like I could,” Buck confesses.
That wakes Eddie back up. He tilts his head, looking confused. Buck grabs his hand resting between them and fiddles with his fingers as he speaks. “It’s just… I felt so much for you. I knew I was in love with you even when I refused to let myself feel it, so I couldn’t stay here anymore knowing I couldn’t have you. I had to walk away before it could hurt even more, being here knowing I could never have it all.”
Eddie frowns. He moves in closer, grabbing hold of Buck’s hand and tangling their fingers together. “I’m sor–”
Buck cuts him off. “Hey, no.” He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.”
Just like before, Eddie presses his forehead against Buck’s. He whispers, “I was afraid for so long, but I’m done being afraid, Buck.”
Buck grins. “We don’t have to be anymore,” he whispers back, and because he can’t help it, he says, “New Year, New Us.”
Eddie pulls back and groans. He shoves Buck’s chest. “You cliché,” he mutters. Buck laughs.
“Yeah, but you love me,” he sings the word.
Eddie smiles earnestly and pulls him in closer. “Yeah, I do.”