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Eddie tells himself he’s a reasonable man.
This matters, because when Buck drops into the chair across from him in the station kitchen, elbows wide, mouth already going, Eddie is emotionally prepared to respond like a reasonable man.
He does not.
“—and I’m not saying he’s a bad guy,” Buck says, which is how Buck always prefaces statements that mean this man is actively draining my will to live, “but who cancels plans because he got invited to a last-minute networking thing?”
Eddie tightens his grip on his coffee mug. The mug survives. Barely.
“What kind of networking thing,” Eddie asks, already knowing he won’t like the answer.
“The kind where everyone pretends they’re not looking at each other’s LinkedIn profiles,” Buck says. “He said other pilots ‘notice’ stuff like this.’”
Eddie nods once. Slowly. Calmly. Like a man hearing testimony.
“So he tells me I shouldn’t take it personally,” Buck continues, “and when I say it feels kinda bad to be ditched again, he says maybe I’m just more sensitive about this stuff because of my—” Buck makes vague air quotes. “—‘history.’”
Eddie sets his mug down before he commits a crime.
“Your history,” Eddie repeats.
“Yeah, you know. Childhood stuff. Attachment. Abandonment.” Buck shrugs. “Which, I mean, I guess is technically true, but it still felt like he’d read one article and decided to use it against me.”
Eddie inhales through his nose. Exhales through his teeth.
“That’s not an apology,” Eddie says.
Buck blinks. “Oh.”
“No,” Eddie adds, because apparently today he’s choosing violence. “That’s him saying your feelings are inconvenient.”
Buck laughs, startled. “Wow. When you put it like that, he sounds… kinda awful.”
“Yes,” Eddie says. “That’s because he is.”
Buck studies Eddie for a second, head tilted. “You’re being very intense about this.”
Eddie forces his face to relax. “I care about you.”
Buck’s mouth curves into a soft smile, pleased and entirely unbothered by the way Eddie’s heart stutters.
“I know,” Buck says. “That’s why I talk to you. You make me feel less insane.”
Because you are not insane, Eddie thinks. You are dating a man who treats you like a calendar conflict.
Buck keeps going.
“And it’s not like I want some big dramatic thing,” Buck says. “I just want to feel like I matter. Like I’m not always the one rearranging my schedule. Like—” He winces. “Okay, wow. That sounded needy.”
“It sounded basic,” Eddie says. “Bare minimum, even.”
Buck laughs, a little helplessly. “See? This is why you’re my favorite person to complain to.”
Eddie swallows.
Buck stands a moment later, stretches, announces he’s going to check the rigs, and leaves Eddie alone in the kitchen with his coffee, his thoughts, and the crushing realization that Tommy Kinard is wasting everyone’s time.
Eddie exhales.
This is none of his business. Buck is an adult. Tommy Kinard is… confident. Eddie has no authority here.
He pulls out his phone anyway.
Just to scroll. Just to keep his hands busy. Just to avoid texting something career-ending.
His phone buzzes.
Chris : Dad can I get $10
Eddie : For what?
Chris : There’s a kid at school who says he’s cursed
Chris : and I think he might be right
Chris : but I want protection just in case
Chris : Abuela says intentions matter
Eddie closes his eyes.
“Of course,” he says quietly.
He opens the Etsy search bar. Might as well see what the kid’s talking about.
curse annoying helicopter pilot
Stops. Deletes.
Types:
hex for justice
“That feels more ethical,” Eddie decides.
The results load.
Candles. Spell jars. PDFs. One listing features a calm woman with shoulder length brown locks holding a black candle with the caption:
MINOR INCONVENIENCE SPELL — FOR PEOPLE WHO CONFUSE SELF-CARE WITH SELFISHNESS
Eddie snorts.
“That’s a read,” he mutters, clicking it.
The description is brutally professional as MeagansSupernaturalSpells claims:
No permanent harm.
Encourages accountability.
May result in inconvenient realizations.
Inconvenient realizations sound ideal.
The price is $7.99. They send picture proof once the ritual has been completed.
Eddie thinks of Buck apologizing for wanting to matter.
“This is just a joke,” Eddie mutters.
He hits Buy Now.
The confirmation screen pops up.
Thank you for your purchase! Please allow the universe time to work...
Eddie locks his phone, takes a long sip of coffee, and nods once.
“Okay,” Eddie says quietly.
“Just a joke.”
Eddie regrets it almost immediately.
Not in a moral way. In a very specific, very practical way.
He stares at the Etsy receipt on his phone while standing in the locker room, helmet under his arm, and thinks, That was eight dollars.
Eight dollars for what is essentially vibes.
He could’ve bought Christopher a book. Or tacos. Or one of those unnecessarily expensive protein bars Buck likes.
“This is stupid,” Eddie mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket. “I don’t even believe in this stuff.”
Which is true. He does not believe in hexes. He believes in cause and effect, accountability, and sometimes coincidences that feel personal but absolutely aren’t.
He goes about his shift. He does his job. He rescues people. He does not think about the universe gently nudging anything anywhere.
He almost convinces himself it was just a joke.
Almost.
The first thing that happens barely qualifies as a thing.
Buck mentions it offhand while they’re cleaning up after a call.
“Tommy’s in kind of a mood,” Buck says, like it’s an observation, not a warning.
Eddie keeps his eyes on the hose. “Why.”
“He says his instructor flight got reassigned.” Buck shrugs. “Nothing bad. Just… annoying. He was really looking forward to flying with that guy.”
Eddie pauses.
“That happens,” he says carefully.
“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “He said it’s not a big deal.”
Which, Eddie has learned, means it absolutely is.
Buck continues, oblivious. “Apparently the replacement pilot kept double-checking things. Like, a lot.”
Eddie hums trying to hide a sense of smug satisfaction.
Pilots getting humbled by safety protocols is not supernatural. It’s just satisfying.
The second thing happens two days later.
Buck is sprawled across Eddie’s couch, flipping through TV channels, phone buzzing every few minutes.
“Tommy’s having a week,” Buck says eventually.
Eddie glances over. “Rough flights?”
“Not rough,” Buck says. “Just… inconvenient. He keeps getting bumped off the cooler assignments.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Cooler?”
“Yeah. Scenic stuff. Longer routes.” Buck laughs. “He said he keeps ending up with ‘functional but boring’ jobs.”
Eddie presses his lips together.
“That’s tragic,” he says, expressing no sympathy.
“I know,” Buck says, deadpan. “He said it’s like the universe is testing his patience.”
Eddie’s stomach flips unpleasantly.
Okay.
That phrasing is… unfortunate, but proves nothing.
Patterns are not proof. This is a coincidence. Pilots have schedules. Schedules change.
None of this requires the magic of a millennial aged witch from the depths of etsy.
Later that night, Buck finds Eddie in the kitchen, again.
Which feels targeted, honestly.
Eddie is halfway through reheating leftovers when Buck slides into the chair at the table, slouches, and immediately starts picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. He does not make eye contact. This is never a good sign.
“So,” Buck says.
Eddie doesn’t turn around. “No.”
Buck huffs a laugh. “Okay, wow, hostile.”
“You only start conversations like that when you’re about to downplay something that more than likely major,” Eddie says. He sets the container down harder than necessary and finally looks at him. “What happened?”
Buck shrugs, overly casual. “Nothing. Really. Just—Tommy almost gave me some ibuprofen.”
Eddie freezes, ice in veins.
“…Almost,” Eddie repeats.
“Yeah,” Buck says quickly. “But he didn’t. So it’s fine.”
Eddie turns fully now. “Buck.”
“It was just a headache,” Buck says. “I asked if he had anything, he grabbed ibuprofen, and I stopped him before I took it.”
Eddie feels his pulse spike. “You’re allergic to naproxen.”
“I know.”
“Which is in ibuprofen.”
“I know,” Buck says again, louder, like that solves something.
Eddie stares at him. “Then why was ibuprofen anywhere near you.”
Buck winces. “Because he forgot.”
The word lands heavy between them.
“He forgot,” Eddie says slowly.
“Not like—forgot forgot,” Buck says. “He just… didn’t think about it. He’s had a lot on his mind.”
Eddie lets out a short, disbelieving breath. “Why does he even have it in his house.”
Buck blinks. “What?”
“I don’t keep naproxen anywhere I live,” Eddie says flatly. “Not in my car. Not in my bathroom. Not in a random drawer. Because you’re allergic, and that’s not something I feel like gambling on.”
Buck’s mouth parts slightly.
“That’s not a heroic standard,” Eddie adds. “That’s just… baseline. That’s what caring looks like.”
Buck looks down at his hands. “Most people don’t go that far.”
“Then most people are wrong,” Eddie says, without hesitation.
Buck swallows. “He said he felt really bad.”
Eddie exhales through his nose. “Did he apologize?”
“…He said it was scary to think about,” Buck admits. “And that I should probably just keep my own medicine on me. Just in case.”
Eddie’s jaw tightens. “So his solution was for you to manage his forgetfulness.”
Buck shrugs, smaller this time. “I guess.”
Eddie’s voice softens, but not his stance. “Buck. You deserve to be safe in the places you’re loved.”
Buck doesn’t answer right away. When he does, it’s quiet, resigned.
“…Okay.”
“Good. Now let’s eat these leftovers before I have to reheat them a second time.”
Later that night, Eddie lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.
He is not thinking about Tommy Kinard.
He is absolutely thinking about Tommy Kinard.
Specifically, he is thinking about the way Buck said it’s fine while clearly not thinking it was fine, the way Tommy laughed it off like almost poisoning his boyfriend was a quirky personality trait, and the way Eddie had to physically clench his hands together to avoid committing a felony in someone else’s apartment.
“It’s not my business,” Eddie murmurs into the dark.
His phone buzzes on the nightstand. He ignores it. He does not need distractions. He needs sleep. He needs calm. He needs—
He grabs his phone.
The Etsy app opens instantly, like it’s been waiting.
Eddie squints at the screen. “I am not buying another hex,” he tells it firmly. “I don’t even believe the first one worked.”
Which is true. Mostly. The universe is vast. Pilots get reassigned. Schedules change. None of that proves anything.
But also.
Tommy Kinard almost gave Buck ibuprofen.
Relax, he’d said. It’s no big deal.
Eddie scrolls.
There are more spells than he remembers. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed before. Maybe this is how it starts. Maybe this is how people end up with crystals on their windowsills and opinions about mercury retrograde.
He clicks a listing by accident. Accidentally on purpose.
ACCOUNTABILITY WORKING — FOR PEOPLE WHO REFUSE TO LEARN THE FIRST TIME
The description loads.
Designed for repeated offenders
Encourages reflection through minor disruptions
No physical harm, no lasting damage
Ideal for situations involving arrogance, carelessness, or emotional negligence
Eddie exhales slowly.
“Emotional negligence,” he repeats. “That’s… a lot.”
The price is $18.99.
That is objectively more money than last time.
“That’s ridiculous,” Eddie mutters. “Eighteen dollars for accountability.”
He scrolls away. Immediately scrolls back.
This isn’t about punishment, he tells himself. This is about confirmation. About making sure that the first thing was, in fact, a coincidence. Because if it wasn’t—
Well.
It would be irresponsible not to verify.
He taps Buy Now.
The confirmation pops up with a cheerful little sparkle.
Thank you for your purchase! Please allow the universe time to work.
Eddie stares at it.
“I am doing science,” he says out loud. “This is the scientific method.”
He locks his phone and tosses it onto the nightstand, heart thudding like he’s done something illegal.
Five seconds pass.
He unlocks it again.
Just to look.
Just to make sure there aren’t—hypothetically—worse people who deserve worse things.
He scrolls.
$24.
$30.
$45.
He stops on one with an ominous black-and-gold thumbnail.
ESCALATED COURSE CORRECTION — FOR THOSE WHO ENDANGER OTHERS AND CALL IT A JOKE
Eddie actually laughs.
Out loud.
“You’re really charging forty dollars for vibes,” he says, impressed.
He clicks into it. Reads the description twice. Three times.
Intended for extreme cases of carelessness
Results may include repeated frustration, professional embarrassment, or inconvenient delays
Use sparingly. The universe has a sense of humor.
Eddie thinks of Buck’s allergic reaction history. Thinks of Tommy shrugging. Thinks of relax.
He does not buy it.
He is not insane.
He closes the app.
He lies back.
Thirty seconds later, he sits up again.
“Just in case,” Eddie mutters, reopening Etsy. “Purely preventative.”
He buys it.
The confirmation hits his inbox.
His total today is now high enough that Etsy suggests related items.
Eddie groans and drops back onto the bed, arm over his eyes.
“This is getting out of hand,” he says, smiling despite himself.
His phone buzzes again.
Buck: thanks for earlier btw
Buck: i know i joke about it but it really helps having you in my corner
Eddie’s smile softens.
Any lingering guilt evaporates instantly.
He types back:
Eddie: always
Eddie: you deserve better
Buck sends a heart emoji. Eddie stares at it longer than necessary.
He locks his phone, finally settling back against the pillows.
Across the city, somewhere, the universe is allegedly being nudged.
Eddie closes his eyes.
“If this works,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna have so many thoughts about capitalism.”
And somewhere deep down, beneath the rationalizations and the denial and the absolutely unreasonable number of Etsy receipts, Eddie Diaz feels perfectly, cosmically justified.
The thing Eddie does not account for is the waiting.
He accounts for inconvenience. He accounts for karma. He even accounts for irony.
He does not account for the universe taking its sweet, unhurried time.
By hour six after the purchase, nothing has happened.
By hour ten, still nothing.
By the next morning, Eddie is deeply offended.
He stands in the station kitchen, staring at the coffee machine like it’s personally betrayed him.
“This is false advertising,” he mutters, tapping his phone screen. “It said results may appear subtly, repeatedly, and cumulatively. That implies—” he checks the timestamp “—promptly.”
Eddie sighs shaking his head, “I paid extra.”
Buck wanders in, hair still damp from the shower, yawning. “Paid extra for what?”
Eddie nearly drops his phone.
“For—uh. Shipping. On Groceries.” Eddie says immediately.
Buck squints. “On Etsy?”
Eddie freezes. Recovers. “Did I say groceries? I meant gadgets. Yup! Gadgets.”
Buck hums in excitement, “Ooh! I love gadgets! Just the other day I found this bagel guillotine for a perfect slice every time!”. He pours himself coffee, grimaces at the taste, and adds sugar.
“Speaking of food, Tommy texted me at six this morning,” Buck says.
Eddie’s heart leaps. This is it.
“Oh?” he asks, far too casually.
“He was annoyed because his lunch got messed up,” Buck says. “Apparently his meal prep container leaked all over his bag.”
Eddie waits.
Buck shrugs. “Anyway.”
Anyway?
“That’s… it?” Eddie asks.
Buck gives him a sideways glance. “Should there be more?”
“No,” Eddie says quickly. “No. That’s plenty. Containers leak. It’s a known issue.”
He sips his coffee, frowning.
That could have happened to anyone. Anyone. That’s not proof. That’s not even satisfying.
He spends the rest of the shift hyper-aware of the universe.
Every time Buck’s phone buzzes, Eddie looks up.
Every time Buck mentions Tommy, Eddie braces.
Nothing.
By the end of the day, Eddie is irritated in a way that feels personal.
That night, he lies on the couch, scrolling through Etsy reviews like a man researching a lawsuit.
⭐⭐⭐⭐
SebastianSlayer: Worked in three days! Subtle but effective.
Three days??
⭐⭐⭐⭐
AnshiLovesBellarke: Five stars! Didn’t see results immediately, but WOW when they hit, they HIT!!!
Eddie exhales sharply. “These reviews need to be more specific.”
He clicks into his order details.
Status: In Progress.
“In progress,” Eddie repeats. “What does that even mean? Are they sourcing moonlight? Do they need references?”
He taps the message seller button. Stares at it.
Does not message them.
Because he is a reasonable man.
Two days later, Buck flops onto Eddie’s couch, groaning.
“Tommy’s having the weirdest luck,” Buck says, kicking off his shoes.
Eddie’s spine straightens.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Nothing major,” Buck continues, oblivious. “Just annoying stuff. Like… his badge stopped scanning at work and he had to borrow someone else’s. And his favorite pen exploded in his pocket.”
Eddie nods slowly.
These are… better.
These are something.
“That happens,” Eddie says carefully.
Buck snorts. “That’s what he said. But he was weirdly mad about it. Like, really mad.”
Eddie presses his lips together, a smile threatening to break through.
The universe, apparently, does not respond well to being rushed.
Eddie never meant for it to spiral like this. After the first couple of hexes seemed to be working Eddie began to gain way too much enjoyment to be able to stop. Months later, those purchases had begun to amass into something that was frankly embarrassing to behold.
Had the team found out even just slightly earlier, it might not be so bad. Unfortunately, by the time he was exposed, he was in way too deep.
It starts with Chimney stealing Eddie’s phone.
This is not unusual. Chim steals everyone’s phone. Usually to change their ringtone. Occasionally to Venmo himself five dollars “for emotional damages.”
Eddie is halfway across the bay when Chim squints at the screen and says, “Huh.”
Eddie freezes.
Hen looks up immediately. “What.”
Chim scrolls. His eyebrows climb his forehead.
“…Eddie.”
Eddie turns slowly. “Give it back.”
Chim ignores him. “Why does your email say ‘Your spell has been completed’”
Silence.
Hen’s head snaps around. “I’m sorry, your what?”
Eddie lunges. Chim holds the phone out of reach.
“Chim,” Eddie says tightly. “That’s not what it sounds like.”
Chim reads aloud. “‘Thank you for trusting MeagansSupernaturalSpells. Please allow up to seven days for energetic results.’”
Hen presses her lips together. “Eddie Diaz.”
Chim scrolls. “Oh my god. There’s more.”
“Give me my phone.”
“No, no,” Chim says, delighted. “This one has pictures.”
Eddie makes a noise of pure despair.
Hen leans in. “Is that… a jar.”
Chim gasps. “That is absolutely a jar.”
“That one’s a candle,” Chim adds. “Wait. Why is that one fifty dollars.”
Eddie stops fighting.
Hen straightens slowly. “How many.”
Eddie considers lying.
Doesn’t.
“…Several.”
Chim’s eyes widen. “Several as in ‘a few’ or several as in ‘there’s a rewards program.’”
Eddie mutters, “I got a discount code to share.”
Hen laughs despite herself. “Oh my god.”
Chim scrolls again. “Eddie. You spent hundreds of dollars.”
Eddie rubs his face. “In my defense, they got more specific.”
Hen blinks. “More specific how.”
“Targeted inconvenience,” Eddie says. “Ethical justice.”
Chim wheezes. “You don’t even believe in ghosts.”
“I don’t,” Eddie snaps. “That’s why this is upsetting.”
Hen wipes at her eyes. “Okay. Okay. Context. Who are we hexing.”
Eddie opens his mouth.
Stops.
Closes it.
“…Tommy.”
Chim sobers slightly. “Buck’s Tommy?”
“Yes.”
Hen exhales slowly. “Oh.”
Chim glances toward the hall. “Does Buck know?”
Eddie and Hen, in perfect sync: “No.”
Chim nods. “Good. Because he would never let you live this down.”
Hen studies Eddie now, amusement giving way to something gentler.
“You realize,” she says, “this is how we know it’s serious.”
Eddie slumps onto the bench. “I know.”
Chim pats his shoulder. “Buddy. This is unhinged.”
“I know.”
“And kind of iconic,” Chim adds.
Hen snorts. “Chim.”
“What,” he says. “If Eddie Diaz is buying witchcraft, something is deeply wrong.”
From the hallway, Buck’s voice calls, “Hey, has anyone seen my charger?”
Eddie bolts upright. “No.”
Hen and Chim, instantly, “No.”
Buck pokes his head in. “Huh. Weird. I wonder where it went.”
He leaves.
The three of them stare at each other.
Chim breaks the silence. “So.”
Hen crosses her arms. “We are never telling him.”
Eddie nods fervently. “Never.”
Chim grins. “On my life, I will try my best.”
Somewhere in Eddie’s pocket, his phone buzzes.
A new email.
Your results are unfolding…
Eddie groans.
Hen smiles. “Oh no.”
Chim laughs. “You’re in so deep.”
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Eddie doesn’t see any signs of ‘unfolding results’ until later that shift when Buck’s phone rings.
Buck answers on speaker without thinking. Because he's Buck.
“Hey—”
“Evan.” Tommy’s voice crackles through, furious. “I am having the worst day of my life.”
Eddie stills.
Hen and Chim glance up. Even with Buck being across the station, they can hear everything.
Buck winces. “What happened?”
“I got grounded,” Tommy snaps.
Chim chokes on his drink.
“Grounded?” Buck repeats.
“Yes, grounded. Temporarily. Because apparently I forgot to submit one form. One. And now I’m stuck doing simulator hours like a rookie.”
Hen’s eyebrows shoot up.
“That’s… rough,” Buck says carefully.
“And it gets better,” Tommy continues. “My locker flooded. My backup headset is missing. And someone put a tiny plastic helicopter in my flight bag.”
Eddie’s soul leaves his body.
Chim whispers, “That’s targeted.”
Buck frowns. “Wait, that’s weird.”
“It’s not just weird,” Tommy snaps. “It’s annoying. And honestly? I don’t have time for this today. I’ll call you later.”
He hangs up.
Silence.
Chim slowly turns to Eddie, “Buddy.”
Hen’s mouth twitches. “You didn’t.”
Eddie whispers, “I didn’t.”
His phone buzzes.
Your request has manifested. Thank you for trusting cosmic justice…
Eddie swallows.
“Okay,” Chim says. “So. Hypothetically. If you had purchased a spell.”
Hen nods. “Which you didn’t.”
Eddie closes his eyes. “I might have selected the ‘symbolic reminder’ add-on.”
Chim collapses into a chair, laughing. “You paid extra for the helicopter?”
“I didn’t know it’d be literal!”
Hen presses her fingers to her temple. “Eddie Diaz. You have summoned props.”
Eddie panics. “This is too far. This is too specific. This was supposed to be minor.”
Chim wheezes. “Minor for who.”
Eddie looks at Buck.
Buck is quiet. Thoughtful. Frowning—not angry, just tired.
“He sounded really upset,” Buck says softly. “This kind of stuff has been happening for months now.”
That lands harder than any laugh.
Eddie swallows and towards the two. “I’ll stop.”
Hen studies him. “You sure?”
“Yes,” Eddie says immediately. “I’m done. It's beginning to do more harm than good.”
He means it.
The station is quieter than usual.
Chim’s gone to bother Bobby. Buck’s upstairs, doing something with paperwork and a pen he absolutely did not need. Eddie is at the table, phone face-down like it might betray him again if he looks at it wrong.
Hen sits across from him, sipping coffee.
She watches him for a minute.
Then, casually, “So.”
Eddie flinches. “So.”
Hen tilts her head. “How did this all start, anyway?”
Eddie blinks. “What.”
“The spells,” she says. “The jars. The increasingly alarming Etsy receipts.”
He exhales. “It was a joke.”
Hen hums. “Okay.”
Eddie frowns. “It was.”
“I believe you,” she says easily. “I just want to know what the joke was responding to.”
Eddie hesitates.
“It was after Buck was complaining,” he admits. “About Tommy.”
Hen’s eyebrows lift, just a fraction. “Complaining how.”
“You know,” Eddie says, shrugging. “Just… normal. Stuff.”
Hen waits.
“He ditched him,” Eddie adds. “Again.”
Hen nods. “Okay.”
“And he said Buck was too much,” Eddie continues. “Said he needed more hobbies. More people. Less—” He cuts himself off, jaw tightening.
Hen’s voice stays gentle. “Less what.”
Eddie swallows. “Less Buck.”
Hen lets that sit.
“And that made you buy a witch,” she says.
Eddie opens his mouth. Closes it. “I mean—”
“Then there was the naproxen thing,” Eddie continues. “And the comments. And the way he talks to him. And every time Buck shrugs it off like it doesn’t bother him.”
E
Eddie’s fingers curl into the table.
“And every time,” Hen adds softly, “you get angrier.”
Eddie laughs weakly. “Anyone would.”
Hen meets his eyes. “Not like this.”
Silence stretches.
Eddie shakes his head. “I just don’t like him.”
“I know,” Hen says. “But you didn’t hex him because you don’t like him.”
Eddie exhales sharply. “Then why.”
Hen leans back slightly. Gives him space. “Because every time Buck comes to you upset, you feel like it’s your job to fix it.”
“That’s just—” Eddie starts automatically. Stops.
Hen continues, “And because when someone hurts him, you take it personally.”
Eddie’s chest tightens.
“And because,” Hen says gently, “you’ve been acting like this is happening to you.”
Eddie stares at the table.
“I don’t—” His voice cracks. He clears his throat. “I’m just being protective.”
Hen smiles, soft and knowing. “Of course you are.”
She pauses.
“You just might want to ask yourself why.”
The realization doesn’t hit like lightning.
It’s slower.
He thinks of Buck on Eddie’s couch, complaining but smiling anyway. Buck lighting up when Eddie laughs. Buck choosing Eddie, over and over, without ever making it a big thing.
He thinks of how easy it is to love him.
Oh.
Oh no.
Eddie presses his palm flat to the table.
Hen watches his face carefully. “You good.”
Eddie nods once. Swallows. “I think I just figured out why this spiraled.”
Hen’s smile turns soft. “Yeah?”
“…Yeah.”
From upstairs, Buck laughs at something stupid Chim says.
Eddie closes his eyes.
He’s in love with his best friend.
And he spent several hundred dollars trying to curse the man dating him instead of admitting it.
Hen, very gently: “You know you could’ve just talked to me. I could've helped you realize this a couple hundred dollars ago.”
Eddie groans. “I know.”
She pats his hand. “For what it’s worth? This is still the funniest way you could’ve realized.”
Eddie huffs despite himself.
“I’m never living this down, am I?”
“Nope,” Hen says cheerfully. “But at least now you know.”
And knowing, somehow, feels heavier than all the magic ever did.
Buck shows up at Eddie’s place after midnight.
He doesn’t knock. He never does anymore. Just lets himself in, keys clinking, footsteps heavy.
Eddie looks up from the couch and knows immediately.
“Hey,” he says gently.
Buck’s mouth wobbles. He shakes his head once, like that’ll fix it, then sinks down beside Eddie, shoulders caving in.
Eddie doesn’t ask. He just opens his arm.
Buck folds into him like it’s muscle memory.
They sit like that for a long moment. Buck’s forehead presses into Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s hand settles between Buck’s shoulder blades, steady and warm.
“He forgot again,” Buck says finally, voice muffled.
Eddie’s jaw tightens. “Forgot what.”
“The fundraiser,” Buck says with a humorless laugh. “The one I told him about. Twice.” He sniffs. “He said he thought I was just talking out loud.”
Eddie closes his eyes.
“I told him it mattered to me,” Buck continues. “And he said—” He swallows. “He said he didn’t realize everything in my life needed to be a group activity.”
Eddie’s hand stills.
“That’s not fair,” he says quietly.
Buck shrugs, still tucked into him. “He says I take things too personally.”
Eddie feels something sharp and furious bloom in his chest. He pushes it down.
“I would never say that to you,” Eddie says before he can stop himself.
Buck goes still.
Eddie realizes what he’s said and backtracks immediately. “I just— I mean. You’re allowed to care about things. About people.”
Buck pulls back just enough to look at him.
“You always say that,” Buck murmurs.
Eddie swallows. “Because it’s true.”
Buck studies his face, searching. “Do you really think I’m not… too much.”
“No,” Eddie says instantly. “I think you’re generous. And loyal. And you show up.” He hesitates, the truth hovering on his tongue. “I think anyone would be lucky to be loved like that.”
Buck’s breath catches.
Eddie feels it too — the weight of what he could say, what he wants to say.
He pulls back. Just a fraction.
“But,” Eddie adds quickly, softly, “that’s just— you know. In general.”
Buck watches him for a second longer, then nods.
They sit in silence again.
Buck eventually leans back into Eddie’s side, lighter somehow.
“Thanks,” he says. “I don’t know why this always feels easier with you.”
Eddie’s chest aches.
“Anytime,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
Later, after Buck falls asleep on the couch, Eddie lies awake staring at the ceiling.
He thinks, ‘If this is the most I ever get of him, then that’ll have to be enough. Maybe if I tell him enough he'll realize that he deserves more than this.’
Buck let himself in without knocking, keys jangling.This is becoming a pattern. Eddie was at the counter, chopping vegetables, but he didn’t look up. He knew that thud of Buck’s boots, the tension in his shoulders could only mean one thing — another Tommy screwup .
“I’m gonna scream,” Buck muttered, dumping a bag of groceries on the counter before beginning to sort them away.
Eddie tilted his head. “Do I want to know?”
Buck’s jaw tightened. “He borrowed my Jeep yesterday.”
Eddie froze mid-chop. “Borrowed? Without asking?”
Buck waved his hand, exasperated. “Technically, maybe. He said it was ‘for an essential errand,’ but he didn’t ask me. Didn’t think to. Left me a text that was supposed to be an apology, but really just sounded like a demand for me to get over it.”
Eddie set down the knife. “That’s not acceptable.”
“And there’s more,” Buck said, voice dropping, “he somehow managed to scratch the driver’s side door. He knows what that Jeep means to me. Maddie gave it to me. It’s—” He stopped, swallowing hard, eyes pleasing for Eddie to understand. “It’s more than a car.”
Eddie’s fingers itched toward his pocket. One little reminder spell. Make the scratch magically disappear. Or maybe just make Tommy notice it, care about it for once. But he clenched his jaw instead. Not his place.
“What did he say?” Eddie asked carefully.
Buck’s lips pressed together. “He said it’s ‘just a scratch.’ Like it’s nothing. Like I’m overreacting.” He laughed bitterly. “I told him it wasn’t nothing. It’s—” He gestured vaguely at the Jeep in his mind. “It’s history. It’s… important. And he said, ‘You’re too sentimental.’”
Eddie’s hand tightened around the counter edge. “Too sentimental?” he repeated. “He thinks your car—and what it represents—isn’t worth respecting?”
Buck shrugged. “Apparently.”
“You know he’s a jerk, right?” Eddie asked, voice low. “Not a maybe, not sometimes. A full on shitstick.”
Buck stared at him, then laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. I know.”
“And you’re still with him?” Eddie’s voice was sharp, even though he tried not to be.
“I… I don’t know how to leave,” Buck admitted. “Even when he’s… like this. Thoughtless. Careless. He makes it sound like I’m overreacting for feeling things. Like I’m crazy.”
Eddie’s jaw tightened. The phone in his pocket called to him — tiny symbolic reminders, a little push to make Tommy realize the Jeep wasn’t just a thing. But no. Not this time. Let him vent. Be here. He stepped closer, putting a hand lightly on Buck’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to have people and things that mean something to you. And anyone who dismisses that? Not worth your time.”
Buck shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You always make me feel easier. Even when it feels like everything’s a mess.”
Eddie reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Buck’s forehead. “I just want you to feel like someone’s got your back. Always.”
Buck’s shoulders relaxed fractionally, leaning into the touch. “Thanks. And I’ve got yours too, you know that.” he murmured.
“You don’t need to thank me,” Eddie said, voice soft. “Not for something like that.”
Buck’s expression softened. “I know.”
Eddie’s chest tightened, a mix of longing and restraint. He wanted to tell Buck everything he felt, wanted to protect him, wanted to fix everything for him, but he couldn’t. Not yet. He let the small moment breathe, let Buck lean into him, let the quiet connection linger.
Because for now, that was enough. For now, being there, listening, supporting — it was all he could do. And it was driving him insane in the best way possible.
Buck leaned against the kitchen counter, scrolling through his phone while Eddie washed dishes nearby. The kitchen smelled faintly of garlic and something baked, the hum of the fridge filling the quiet.
Then Buck’s eyes landed on something. His finger hovered over Eddie’s open email, and he froze.
“…Eddie?” he said slowly.
Eddie stiffened, hand on a plate. “What—what is it?”
Buck scrolled, eyes widening. “‘Your results are unfolding… Thank you for trusting MeagansSupernaturalSpells…’ Eddie. Are… are these jars? And—candles? And—”
Eddie’s shoulders tensed. “Buck, I—”
“You… hexed Tommy, didn’t you?” Buck’s voice was incredulous, but there was no anger yet. Just incredulity.
“I… maybe… sort of?” Eddie said, voice small, almost whispering. He shuffled his feet, hands twisting the towel. “I didn’t mean to… I just thought… okay, fine, I went overboard, but—”
Buck raised an eyebrow, mouth twitching. “Went overboard? Eddie… you—this is ridiculous. You spent hundreds of dollars on tiny jars and candles just to hex my ex?”
“Ex?” Eddie asks with uncalled for excitement coursing through his veins. It’s too good to be true.
Buck’s mouth dropped open. “…Yeah. We broke up. Like… we’re done. And you did… all this? For me? Over Tommy?”
Eddie looked down at the floor, cheeks heating. “I… I just… I care, okay? And I thought maybe… if he got a little cosmic nudge… maybe he’d stop being a jerk. I didn’t… I didn’t mean for it to get… so… obvious.”
Buck blinked, then laughed. A full, surprised laugh that echoed around the kitchen. “Oh my God. Oh my God, Eddie Diaz. You are—this is—you are… insane.”
“I know,” Eddie muttered, shrugging bashfully. “I just… care about you. And I wanted—God, I don’t know. I just wanted to make things… easier for you.”
Buck shook his head, still chuckling. “Eddie. This is… this is hilarious. And… kinda amazing.” He leaned on the counter, still laughing softly. “You actually did this… for me?”
Eddie’s stomach twisted. “Yeah. I did. I… I shouldn’t have—”
“No!” Buck said quickly, cutting him off with a grin. “No, I mean… yes, you should have. I mean, this is absurd and a little terrifying but also… sweet? I mean, who does this? Who spends hundreds of dollars on hexes for someone they like?”
Eddie’s cheeks burned brighter. “I… I didn’t… it’s dumb. I’m dumb. I shouldn’t—”
Buck reached out, brushing a hand against Eddie’s arm. “You’re not dumb. You’re… well, you’re Eddie Diaz. Reckless, overprotective, dramatic, amazing Eddie Diaz.” He laughed again, shaking his head. “And you care about me. That’s… wow. I… didn’t realize… I mean, I knew, but seeing it? Like this? This is… insane.”
Eddie shuffled his feet, looking down. “Yeah. Well. Maybe. I—God, Buck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. I just… wanted to protect you.”
Buck’s expression softened, eyes glinting with affection under the humor. “Eddie… I can’t believe someone would do all that for me. For me! And you… you thought you were embarrassing yourself. I think it’s… hilarious and sweet. And… kind of perfect.”
Eddie blinked. “Perfect?”
“Yeah,” Buck says easily. “Perfectly ridiculous. Perfectly you.”
Eddie lets out a weak laugh that dies halfway through. He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, eyes fixed very deliberately on the sink. “I mean—okay, look. I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered, and I definitely shouldn’t have… escalated in that way. I know it crossed a line, and I get that it wasn’t my place, and I swear I’m done, I already unsubscribed from, like, three mailing lists—”
Buck snorts. “There are mailing lists?”
“That’s not the point,” Eddie says quickly. “The point is, I just—every time you came over upset, or tried to laugh it off, or told me it wasn’t a big deal, it felt like—like watching someone keep bumping a bruise and pretending it doesn’t hurt. And I know you can handle yourself, I know you don’t need me swooping in, I just—” He exhales, words tripping over each other now. “I wanted you to feel like someone was on your side. Like you mattered. Like if he wasn’t going to show up for you, at least—at least I could do something. Even if it was stupid. Especially if it was stupid.”
Buck has gone very still.
Eddie barrels on, flustered. “And I know it’s not my job to fix things, and I know you didn’t ask me to, and I know I probably projected a lot of my own stuff onto it, but every time he made you feel small or inconvenient or like you were asking for too much, it just—God, Buck, it made me so mad. Because you’re not too much. You’re—you’re generous and you care and you love people loudly and I—” He stops short, breath catching. “…I love that about you.”
Silence.
Eddie freezes.
“Oh,” he says faintly.
Buck blinks. Once. Twice. “You… love… what now?”
Eddie closes his eyes. “Okay. So. That—yeah. That’s not… that’s not what I meant to say.”
Buck’s mouth curves, slow and delighted. “Sounded pretty clear to me.”
Eddie groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I was trying to say I’m sorry. I was apologizing. I wasn’t—I didn’t plan to—God, this is why I don’t talk when I’m nervous.”
Buck laughs softly, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. “You’re nervous?”
“Yes,” Eddie says immediately. “Because I just accidentally confessed something I have been very intentionally not saying for a very long time.”
Buck tilts his head, studying him, eyes warm. “So this whole time—”
“This whole time,” Eddie confirms, mortified. “Yes.”
“And the hexes,” Buck adds, clearly enjoying this now, “were not just… friendly concern.”
Eddie huffs out a laugh. “No. They were… very much not that.”
Buck’s smile softens, something quieter slipping in beneath the humor. “Eddie.”
Eddie looks up, finally meeting his eyes. “I know if this makes things weird, I get it. I’ll back off. I’ll—figure it out. I just didn’t want you thinking I did all this because I thought you couldn’t handle your own life. I did it because—” He shrugs helplessly. “Because I care. Because I care too much. Because I’m in love with you. Apparently.”
Buck’s breath stutters. He laughs again, but it’s gentler now, a little awed. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Eddie mutters. “I’ve been told.”
Buck reaches out, fingers curling lightly into the front of Eddie’s shirt, not pulling, just anchoring. “You know what’s wild?”
Eddie swallows. “What.”
“I spent so long thinking I was asking for too much,” Buck says quietly. “And it turns out I was just asking the wrong person.”
Eddie’s chest tightens. “Buck—”
Buck closer, eyes twinkling. “For the record,” he adds, smiling, “if someone is going to hex my ex out of pure, unhinged devotion, I’m actually pretty glad it’s you.”
Eddie lets out a shaky laugh. “I really am done with the hexes.”
“Good,” Buck says. “Because I think I might want you to redirect that energy toward me.”
Eddie’s breath catches. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Buck replies half-breathless as he leans in and kisses him—soft, warm, unhurried.
Eddie exhales into it before he even realizes he’s been holding his breath. Then he’s kissing Buck back, hands coming up on instinct, careful but sure as they settle at Buck’s waist. It feels like relief more than anything else, like something clicking into place after being just slightly off for far too long.
Buck hums quietly, fingers curling into Eddie’s shirt, and that’s all the encouragement Eddie needs. He deepens the kiss just a little, not rushing it, letting himself finally lean into what he’s wanted for so long.
When they part, Buck rests his forehead against Eddie’s again, smiling. “For the record,” he murmurs, “the next time you feel the urge to buy witchcraft—”
“Just talk to you,” Eddie finishes, breathless and smiling despite himself. “Deal.”
They come in together the next morning.
Which, honestly, should surprise no one.
And yet.
Hen clocks it immediately. Eddie’s posture is different—looser, lighter. Buck’s smile is quieter than usual, like he’s carrying something precious and isn’t interested in hiding it.
Chim squints over the rim of his coffee. “Why do they look like that.”
Bobby glances up from his mug. “Like what.”
“Like,” Chim says, watching Buck brush Eddie’s arm and not move away, “They can find the answer to the universe in the other's face.”
Hen hums. “They’re glowing.”
Ravi, halfway through stirring sugar into his coffee, looks up. Pauses. Looks again.
“Oh,” he says faintly.
Buck laughs at something Eddie murmurs under his breath. Eddie ducks his head, smiling, cheeks warm.
Chim lowers his cup. “Yep.”
They reach the table.
“Morning,” Buck says brightly.
“Morning,” Eddie echoes.
There’s a pause.
Hen sets her mug down. “So.”
Buck blinks. “So?”
Hen gestures between them. “Are we doing this, or do you want us to keep pretending we don’t have eyes.”
Eddie exhales, half a laugh. “We’re—”
Buck squeezes his hand. “We’re together.”
Hen beams. “Finally.”
Chim slaps the table. “About damn time.”
Ravi startles. “Oh—wow. Okay. Congrats. Glad you guys were able to work past everything. I always wondered why you got divorced, you always seemed so perfect together.”
“Divorced?” Eddie practically shouts in disbelief.
“We were never married? Ravi, what are you talking about?” Buck cries out.
Ravi blinks, “This is so embarrassing. Can we please talk about this later? Buck and Eddie are together for apparently the first time. Let’s focus on that now!”
Bobby smiles, fond and unsurprised. “I was wondering when you two would figure it out.”
Buck tilts his head. “You knew?”
“You’ve been orbiting since the moment you met,” Hen says. “Yes, we knew.”
Eddie groans softly. “Unbelievable.”
Chim grins. “Buddy. You bought witchcraft instead of confessing your feelings. This was never subtle.”
Ravi’s head snaps up. “—Sorry, he what now?”
Buck laughs, leaning into Eddie’s side. “In his defense, it worked.”
Eddie shoots him a look. “That is not the takeaway.”
Hen arches a brow. “Oh, I think it is.”
Ravi blinks between them. “I feel like I missed a meeting.”
“You did,” Chim says cheerfully. “Several.”
Bobby clears his throat. “As long as we’re clear that no supernatural interventions are being deployed at the station.”
Eddie raises both hands in surrender. “I am retired.”
Chim snorts. “You say that now.”
Buck threads their fingers together, openly, like he’s done hiding it. Eddie exhales, shoulders settling, the last of the tension finally bleeding away.
Hen watches them for a moment, smile softening. “You good?”
Eddie nods. “Yeah.”
Buck grins. “More than good.”
Ravi lifts his coffee, still processing. “Well. Uh. I’m happy for you guys. And… mildly terrified.”
Chim laughs. “Get in line.”
Buck leans in and presses a quick, unapologetic kiss to Eddie’s cheek.
Hen smirks. “Wow. We’re really doing this now.”
Buck shrugs. “We’re done pretending.”
Eddie smiles, helpless and happy, and lets himself lean closer.
Ravi watches them for a second, then shakes his head with a quiet laugh. “I knew this station was weird,” he mutters. “Did not know it was ‘witchcraft soulmates’ weird.”
For the first time, there’s nothing to hide.
No secrets.
No pretending.
Just them.