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Buck is not going to burn the quesadilla. He’s going to remember that it’s on the stove, and he’s not going to burn it. He’s going to take this laundry from the washing machine and put it in the dryer, and then he’s going to go back into the kitchen and flip the quesadilla.
He’s gonna remember the quesadilla. He will remember the quesadilla.
Laundry. Dryer. Quesadilla.
He pulls open the door of the washing machine, pulling handfuls of wet clothes out and plonking them into the dryer.
His AirPods blast his and Eddie’s blend playlist, which acts as a backing track to the ‘quesadilla, quesadilla, quesadilla,’ chorus looping through his brain.
Laundry. Dryer. Quesadilla.
He gives the air a sniff and doesn’t smell anything burning. Nice. He hits some buttons on the dryer, closes the door, and turns to head back to the quesadilla he has not forgotten.
In his hustle to flip the quesadilla at the perfect crispiness, and probably also the noise-cancelling feature on his AirPods, he doesn’t notice that he’s no longer alone in the laundry until he just about collides into a wall of Eddie.
He turns and finds the saddest Eddie he’s ever seen just kind of standing solemnly in the doorway like a creepy sleep paralysis demon.
“Jesus, Eddie,” he breathes, slapping a hand over his suddenly racing heart. He rips the earbuds out of his ears and expects Eddie to snort in amusement or roll his eyes at Buck’s theatrics. Instead, which is worse and spookier, he remains standing in the doorway, solemn and still and sad. He looks shifty. He looks guilty.
Eddie had spent the morning mowing the lawn and tackling the weeds. Buck’s immediate concern jumps to the herbs he’d planted last month — notably not weeds, but close enough to them that Buck had threatened things he’s not proud of if any harm should come to them while Eddie was yanking things out of the garden.
Before Buck can figure out how to say ‘did you murder my basil?’ without sounding accusatory, Eddie sighs, shoulders slumped, and whispers:
“I need you to drive me to the dentist.”
Buck blinks. Oh! Oh, thank god. His basil is safe. His pesto is safe.
“Okay, yeah,” he agrees, mentally shifting from mourning thyme and rosemary leaves to dentist appointments. “Put it in the calendar.”
“No,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. He sucks in a breath through his nose and lets it out through his mouth. “I need you to drive me to the dentist.”
“Oh,” Buck frowns. It’s not like Eddie to forget about an appointment. He looks at his watch. “Now?”
Eddie nods. He kinda looks like he’s going to puke. Buck knows he doesn’t like being late for appointments, maybe that’s it.
“I was going to take Chris to the comic store,” Buck notes. “We can drop you off on the way?”
Eddie swallows. He shakes his head. “I need you to drive me, and I need you to stay, or I will climb out the restroom window.”
Huh. Okay. Or not.
Buck blinks at him. “Okay,” he nods. “I’ve missed something.”
Eddie sucks in a shuddering breath. “I have a toothache,” he whispers.
“Oh,” Buck pouts, lifting a hand to gently stroke Eddie’s cheek. “You didn’t say anything.”
“I was hoping that if I didn’t acknowledge it, it would go away.”
“Okay,” Buck nods. “And that didn’t work.”
Eddie pouts. He huffs. “It got worse.”
“My poor baby,” Buck pouts, running his thumb over Eddie’s jaw. Eddie leans into his touch. His poor boyfriend is in pain. Buck needs to fix it. “Okay. Okay. They said you couldn’t drive?”
Eddie sighs. He mumbles something Buck doesn’t catch.
“What was that?”
“I don’t like the dentist,” he repeats. His giant, terrified eyes meet Buck’s. “I really don’t like the dentist.”
Oh. Oh my god. Eddie is scared of the dentist. Eddie has a silver star and he’s scared of the dentist. Buck didn’t think he could love him any more if he tried, and then he goes and does something like this.
Buck tries not to smile. “How did I not know you’re scared of the dentist?”
“Because,” Eddie sighs. “It’s a secret.”
“Lots of people are scared of the dentist. It’s not embarrassing.”
“Yes, but I cannot be, because I refuse to pass my fears onto my son.”
Buck does smile at that, because it’s a) adorable and b) the most Eddie thing he’s ever heard. “Does it work like that?”
Eddie nods. “Yes. I pretend.”
“You pretend to…not be scared?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why we’re whispering?”
“Chris cannot know. I have pretended to be so chill in that creepy fucking chair for 14 years, and I have, against every odd, raised a child who is not scared of the dentist because of it. I am not losing my streak today.”
Buck melts. He loves him so much. “You’re such a good dad. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. And that’s why I need you to drive me to the dentist and handcuff me to the chair and then forget you ever saw any of it.”
“Okay,” Buck smiles. “We can do that.”
“And you have to distract Chris.”
“He might not even want to come.”
“He’ll want to come,” Eddie sighs. “He still shows people your wisdom teeth video.”
Buck shudders at the mere mention of the thing. “Okay. I’ll distract him.”
Eddie nods and falls forward, planting his forehead on Buck’s shoulder. “I hate the dentist,” he reiterates, just in case Buck hadn’t picked up on that.
Buck pulls him into a hug, running his hands up and down his back. “You’re so brave, honey.”
Eddie sniffs against his neck, and Buck holds him tighter. Eddie sniffs again.
“Is something burning?” He asks, muffled into Buck’s throat.
“Oh, fuck.”
Buck has to hand it to him — Eddie is great at pretending. It probably helps that there’s a very performative, pantomime element to the dentist’s office they go to — you’ve never met a more chipper group of people in your life.
The receptionist greets Eddie like he’s a long-lost friend, pulling a fun fact from his file and asking him how his job as a firefighter is going, and asking about his Christmas in Texas.
Christmas in Texas was five months ago, so Eddie gives a generic answer and seems completely normal while doing it. Eddie’s deathgrip on Buck’s hand is the only sign that anything is awry.
They drop into the waiting room chairs, Christopher right beside them on his phone. Buck catches Eddie’s eye and nods his head toward the hallway. Eddie shakes his head. Buck raises a brow. Eddie raises a brow in Chris’ direction. Buck levels him with a look. Eddie hits him with an even more threatening look. Buck sighs. Eddie squeezes Buck’s thigh and leaves his hand there. Buck covers it with his own.
If he’s not allowed to follow Eddie into the dentist’s chair and hold his hand the whole time, he’s sure as fuck gonna hold it right now.
A moment later, the dental hygienist appears in the waiting room to continue the ‘the dentist isn’t scary, look how friendly we are!’ performance. “Mr Diaz!” She greets, also seemingly delighted to see him. “How was Texas!?”
Eddie forces a smile on his face, engaging in the chit-chat as he follows the hygienist down the hallway with the energy of someone walking the plank.
Buck digs his nails into his thigh to stop himself from following.
“Are we getting food after this?” Christopher asks, completely unaware of anything outside his phone.
“Yeah, bud,” Buck confirms, even though they have food at home, because he feels bad about burning Christopher’s lunch.
“And then the comic store?”
“We’ll see how your dad is feeling.”
“Is he sick?”
Buck blinks at Christopher. He looks around the dentist’s office they’re in, then back at Christopher. “He has a toothache.”
Christopher frowns. “He does?”
“We’re at the dentist. On a Sunday.”
“Oh,” Christopher blinks, seemingly registering where they are. “I thought we were just going to the dentist.”
“Just your dad,” Buck notes. Huh. Eddie really did manage to raise a kid who isn’t scared of the dentist. The love of his life is a genius and a miracle worker and he can really do anything. “You don’t mind the dentist?”
Christopher shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ve never had a filing.”
“Yeah? That’s impressive.”
Chris shrugs again. “I guess. We’re still getting food, right?”
Buck snorts. “Yeah, buddy. We’ll get food.”
Down the hallway, Buck hears the distinct, cheerful booming voice of their dentist say, “Eddie! How was Texas!”
The car ride home is tense. Eddie had walked out of the dentist's office with a too-tight smile still plastered to his face and an air of the ‘everything is completely fine!’ performance still sticking to him.
“How’d you go?” Buck asks, breaking the silence.
“Good!” Eddie chirps from the passenger seat. “Fine. Really fine.”
Uh oh.
“Did you get a filling?”
“Nah,” Eddie waves. “No, it’s my wisdom teeth. Pretty cool. Preeeeetty cool.”
Oh fuck.
“Oh, cool,” Chris pipes up. “Are they gonna take them out?”
“They sure are, bud,” Eddie confirms. “Just - - right out of my skull. Yank ‘em.”
“Cool,” Christopher whispers.
Buck clears his throat. “Did they say when?”
“Next week!” Eddie grins, incredibly unsettlingly. “Nice and soon.”
“Great,” Buck offers weakly.
“It is!” Eddie confirms.
“I’m coming,” Christopher adds. “I’ll skip school. This needs to be documented.”
“Be nice to your dad,” Buck tries.
“Dad doesn’t care,” Christopher shrugs. “He’d probably pull them out with pliers if he could.”
Eddie gags. Buck pats him on the knee supportively.
“My top right wisdom tooth is impacted,” Eddie mumbles into Buck’s chest. “And the other three are looking like they’re headed that way, so they’re taking all of them.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” Buck pouts. It’s not even close to bedtime, but Buck had found Eddie lying on their bed in the dark and quietly joined him.
“They poked me with so many evil little tools.”
“You’re so brave, sweetheart.”
“It smells weird, too. Why do all dentists smell like that? With their creepy gloved hands of doom and their questions you can’t answer because their hands are in your mouth.”
“I know, honey,” Buck says. “You’re right.”
“He’s practically a stranger. Why would I want to let a stranger near me with needles? I can’t even see what he’s doing! They numb it! They could be doing anything!”
Buck hums in agreement. He draws a comforting pattern over the skin of Eddie’s back.
“It’s too close to my brain. I’m in there, you know? It’s too close to where I am.”
Buck smiles, but it’s okay, because Eddie can’t see him where he’s flopped on top of him from head to toe.
“What can I do to help?”
Eddie sighs dramatically. “I don’t know. Nothing. This.”
“You know, I think Chris is probably past whatever the formative stage is where you develop a fear of the dentist. I think you succeeded. You can probably tell him.”
“No,” Eddie grunts.
“Does your dentist know at least?”
Eddie stays very still and quiet.
“Eddie.”
“Chris used to come in with me!”
“They can help if they know.”
Eddie scoffs, like a dentist being helpful is an absurd thing to suggest.
“How’s the pain?”
Eddie grunts again.
“Did you take the painkillers?”
Another grunt that Buck can read as a no.
“Eddie. If it was Chris - -”
Eddie sighs. “Yes. I know. Fine. I’ll take them.”
“You should eat something first. What do you want? Soup?”
“Maybe we should order. The kitchen smells like burnt.”
“It’s not that bad. The pan is soaking.”
Eddie lets out a dramatic sigh. “I hate the dentist. I don’t even like soup. I like food you have to chew. With my stupid teeth.”
Buck bites down on a laugh. He could name at least five different soups that Eddie would consider top-tier foods. “What about pho?”
Eddie grunts. Buck knows he’s not going to try to claim he doesn’t love pho. “Fine,” he says. “But it’s a noodle soup, which is different.” Buck presses a smile into Eddie’s hair. “And I still hate the dentist.”
“Mr Buckley!” A woman with ‘Suzanne’ on her nametag greets. If you’d asked Buck if he’d ever seen this woman before, he would’ve said no, never. Unfortunately, he has heard the retelling of his own wisdom tooth story too many times not to recognize the name of the woman he accidentally tormented with his love for Eddie and Chris. Any hope that Suzanne might not recognize him quickly fades as she offers, “Nice to see you again!”
Wonderful. If Buck didn’t have to rescue his boyfriend from his personalized nightmare hellscape, he’d ask the ground to swallow him whole right about now.
“Hi,” he winces. “Nice to see you. And, uh, sorry?”
She laughs politely, waving him off. “Everything went well with Mr Diaz’s extraction — he’s just through here,” she explains, leading him down a hallway. “He’s been very quiet, but he should be okay to walk.” Suzanne opens the door to the recovery room and reveals Eddie lying on the bed like a fucking corpse. “Mr Diaz?”
Eddie doesn’t move. He’s flat on his back, straight as a rod, his hands resting on top of each other over his chest.
“Mr Diaz, your husband is here to take you home.”
Buck doesn’t even have time to revel in someone referring to him as Eddie’s husband, because, at that, Eddie shoots up like a fucking vampire. “Buck?” He whispers, now in a sitting position, feet still outstretched in front of him and arms still crossed over his chest. It’s honestly creepy as fuck.
“Hey, Eddie,” he smiles, pushing through the fucking horror of his vampire boyfriend coming back to life. “How you feeling?”
“My husband,” Eddie whispers, hoarse and creepy. It’s not helped by the blood-soaked gauze shoved into his mouth, distorting the words.
Buck looks to Suzanne, to see if she’s also freaked out about any of this, but she just smiles politely. “Take as long as you need,” she offers, and then leaves him alone with the fucking vam- - with Eddie. His beloved, human boyfriend, Eddie.
Buck steps closer, and Eddie’s freezing cold hand darts out at super-human speed to lock around Buck’s wrist. Buck does not yelp, and there is no one here who would constitute a reliable witness in a court of law to say otherwise.
Eddie takes Buck’s hand, spreads out his fingers, and holds the hand up in front of his face. Buck watches, confused as fuck, as Eddie frowns at it, then moves his face impossibly closer, so Buck is essentially palming Eddie’s face like a basketball.
For a horrifying moment, Buck ponders if Eddie has genuinely died and become undead since he last saw him. Maybe he was right to fear the dentist. Maybe Buck sent him off to a dental surgery full of vampires to be fed to the…vampires?
Oh god. Buck’s probably next. He makes the split-second decision that if Eddie tries to drink his blood, he’ll let him. They can work with that. He’d rather be undead with Eddie than alive without him.
He does love garlic, but he can adjust to that, too. He’ll just cook separately for Chris. And maybe - -
A frustrated groan cuts off his thought spiral.
“Hmm,” Eddie hums unhappily, sighing into Buck’s palm. “Where is it?”
Right. Right. Eddie is not a vampire, Eddie is just high and injured. Buck doesn’t need to source a king-sized coffin; he just needs to get his boyfriend home in one piece.
Buck gets it together and slides his hand from directly in front of Eddie’s face up into his hair, sweeping his fingers gently through the strands. “You ready to go home?”
Eddie blinks up at him. He can do that now, because his vision isn’t blocked by the hand he’d placed in front of his face. He nods loosely, a bit like a bobblehead. “I don’t like the dentist.”
“I know you don’t. Let’s get you out of here.”
“Can’t,” he grunts. He blinks slow enough that it’s not a sure bet his eyes are gonna open again. “Gotta find it.”
Buck pushes an errant strand of hair out of Eddie’s eyes. “Find what?”
“It’s a secret,” he sighs. “I have too many secrets, I keep losing them all.”
Buck’s hand freezes in Eddie’s hair. “You have a secret from me?”
“Mmmmmm,” Eddie hums. “I think I do. Do I?”
Buck swallows. This is fine. Everything’s fine. “I don’t know.”
“I do,” Eddie decides.
Eddie is allowed to have a secret, probably. That’s probably what a therapist would say. It’s probably healthy that they don’t tell each other everything; it’s just that Buck thought that they did. Actually, Buck hates the thought of not knowing something about Eddie. He hates it. What if it’s bad — what if it’s about him?
Buck knows he shouldn’t take this opportunity to ask follow-up questions, but he’s just a man. “Is it bad?”
“It’s very, very bad,” Eddie nods. “We have to find it.”
“Oh,” Buck breathes. His whole body goes cold. Fuck. Is vampirism contagious? “Um. Okay. I don’t - - really know how to.”
Eddie nods solemnly. “Because it’s a secret.”
Buck doesn’t know what to do, and it seems impolite to puke on a patient in the recovery room, so he changes the subject. “We have to go find Chris."
Eddie gasps. “Chris knows the secret!”
Buck blinks. “He does?”
“Yes!”
“Okay,” Buck breathes. This could be good. If Chris knows, it probably can’t be that bad, right? Unless they both agree that Buck is the worst and talk about how they’re going to leave him and his burnt quesadillas when he isn’t around. That would fucking suck. “Okay, great. We’ll go and ask Chris.”
“Christopher,” Eddie announces as Buck deposits him in the passenger seat. “Stay away from the dentist. They steal your teeth and your husband.”
“Tell me more about that, Dad,” Christopher grins, pointing his phone at Eddie.
“He’s my husband. He cannot have my husband.”
“Who is?”
Eddie scoffs. “My husband.”
“Buck?” Christopher asks.
“Buck,” Eddie sighs happily. “But I lost it.”
“Lost what?”
“Husband.”
“He’s right in front of you.”
“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “I looked.”
“I’m right here, honey,” Buck reminds him, struggling against Eddie’s complete lack of assistance to get his seatbelt on.
“No,” he sighs. “I lost it. At the dentist.”
“You lost your husband at the dentist?” Christopher grins.
“Just fingers,” Eddie nods sadly. “But I didn’t tell Buck the secret!”
“What secret?” Buck asks.
“Nothing,” Christopher responds suspiciously quickly.
Buck successfully clicks in Eddie’s seatbelt.
Eddie frowns. “No. You know the secret, Chris. You don’t remember?”
“Dad. Stop talking.”
“You don’t know where it is either?” Eddie groans. “Oh no!”
“I, um - -” Christopher blinks.
Eddie turns to Buck. “Christopher doesn’t know!”
Christopher blinks at Buck like he’s been caught playing video games when he should be asleep. “I - - I do know,” he offers. “But you don’t want Buck to know, right, Dad?”
“I don’t know!” Eddie groans. “I don’t know where it is!”
“Okay,” Buck cuts in. He shuts Eddie’s door and zips around to the driver’s side, sliding into his seat. “Alright. Why don’t we change the subject? What did you learn at school this week, Chris?”
“Buck, Dad is high right now. I’m not talking about school. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Dad, do you have any other, different secrets?”
“Christopher,” Buck warns.
Eddie hums thoughtfully. “I think I do. Yes! I do.”
“But none, probably, that you want Christopher to hear, right, honey?”
“Right,” Eddie mumbles. “Oh,” he blinks. “I think it’s in the sock drawer.”
“What is?”
He waves his hand around, looking for the word. “Husband.”
“Nothing!” Christopher insists.
Eddie nods, points at Christopher. “It’s a secret!” He grins. “Like how I’m scared of the dentist.”
“You are?”
“And how I’m gonna marry Buck.”
“Dad,” Christopher groans.
Oh. Oh.
The sock drawer.
“That’s your secret?” Buck smiles. “You said it was bad. Why is that bad?”
“No ring,” Eddie sighs. “I checked every finger.”
“You haven’t given me one yet,” Buck reminds him.
“Oh,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah. Sock drawer.”
“You’re scared of the dentist?” Christopher repeats.
“I hate the dentist. Bad. Bad dentist. Don’t tell Chris.”
Christopher snorts. “I won’t.”
“And don’t tell Buck I’m gonna marry him.”
Buck catches Christopher’s amused expression in the mirror. “Your secret is safe with us, honey.”
So, after much back and forth, here’s where they land on it:
Buck asks Christopher very nicely to delete the video footage from his phone and to never tell his dad any of this transpired.
Christopher grins, and asks if he can get the new Switch.
Buck asks what’s wrong with the Switch he has, and Christopher talks for a long time about how the new one is better and his old one is worthless.
Buck suggests that it might make a good birthday present, because Eddie has already bought it and Buck has wrapped it and it’s hiding in their closet. Christopher seems to accept that, but explains that he unfortunately cannot in good conscience delete the footage, but that he will wait until after Eddie proposes to show it to anyone.
Buck tries to barter for keep the footage, but don’t let Eddie know that Christopher knows he’s scared of the dentist, but fails, because, apparently, ‘that’s the best part’.
And so here they are, caught in a web of secrets that aren’t secrets because everyone knows all the secrets, but not everyone knows that everyone knows all the secrets. Buck is one not-secret secret away from breaking out into hives.
It comes to a head a week later, yet again, in the laundry room.
Buck is putting a load of laundry on to dry, and folding a previous load he’s just pulled fresh from the dryer. His pile, Christopher’s pile, Eddie’s pile.
Shirts, shorts, pants, underwear…socks.
Oh no.
Socks.
Buck has put a lot of effort into not thinking about Eddie’s socks, or the drawer in which they live. The drawer that these exact socks, in his hands right now, must return to. The drawer that Buck would usually put them into. The drawer that Buck cannot touch without snooping at something he shouldn’t be snooping at.
Oh no.
He decides on an age-old, proven tactic that has never failed anyone ever, and choses to ignore the problem and hope that it will solve itself.
He deposits Christopher’s folded laundry onto his bed, takes his own laundry and puts it away where it belongs, and then stares at the neatly folded piles of Eddie’s clothes.
It feels wrong to not put any of it away. Eddie could obviously do it himself, but when Eddie does the laundry, he always puts Buck’s clothes away while he’s putting his own clothes away. And Buck likes hanging their clothes up together — tangible proof that they’re doing this, and it’s real, and that their shirts get to hang next to each other for the rest of time.
So, he puts most of Eddie’s clothes away, too. Except the socks. The socks sit in a neat pile on the bed.
Buck stares at them — at this physical manifestation of the web of secrets he really does not like. He does not like lying to Eddie, who, looking chipmunked and perfect, asked if he’d said anything dumb when he’d woken up. Buck had said no, nothing! because what else what he supposed to do? Eddie has an engagement ring for Buck in his sock drawer and Buck needs him to give it to him.
Maybe Eddie wouldn’t notice if Buck just threw away all these socks. Or he could burn them, so there’s no evidence? That might be better.
“Why are you staring at my socks?”
Buck jumps out of his skin. Arms snake around his middle, pulling him back against a familiar chest.
“You look like you want to murder my socks.”
“No,” Buck says, far too quickly. “No. I just - - didn’t want to assume.”
Eddie huffs out a laugh behind him. “You didn’t want to assume what?”
“Where you wanted your socks to go.”
Eddie hums. He presses a kiss to Buck’s shoulder. “I have been thinking about storing my socks in the dishwasher.”
Buck needs to get out of this room. The web of secrets is not safe in his hands.
“I can - - do you want me to put them somewhere?”
“My socks?”
“Yes. Or I can just - - I can leave them there. On the bed. They look - - good. There.”
Eddie snorts. “Buck,” he says, in a way that means Buck should turn around and look at him, but he can’t do that. He can’t do that without Eddie knowing.
“Hmm?”
“Did you find something in my sock drawer?”
“No!” Buck insists, turning around, wide-eyed. “I didn’t! I didn’t look!”
Eddie does not look like he believes him. His eyes are sparkling with amusement. “Uh-huh,” he teases. “So you could just, right now, go and put those socks in my sock drawer, then?”
Buck avoids Eddie’s eye. “I…could.”
“Okay,” Eddie shrugs. “Go for it.”
Buck swallows. “Sure,” he nods. “Easy peasy, right?”
“Right.”
Buck scoops up the socks and moves toward the drawer. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the drawer open, blindly shoving socks in where he thinks they’re supposed to go. At least one pair misses and hits his foot, but that’s just gonna have to be collateral damage.
He shoves the drawer closed and opens his eyes. Eddie is grinning at him, about five inches from his face.
“Didn’t…see anything,” Buck offers weakly.
“No. Your eyes would probably have had to be open for that.”
Buck sighs dramatically. “Eddie,’ he tries. “I swear I didn’t snoop.”
“Chris?” Eddie guesses.
Buck sighs even more dramatically, if that’s possible. He shakes his head. “No. But you were right about the new Switch.”
Eddie frowns. He looks at the drawer, then back at Buck. His eyes widen. “No,” he whispers.
Buck winces. “Eddie.”
“What did I - - what exactly did I say?”
“Nothing, really! Mostly!”
“Mostly?”
“Mostly!”
“So if I went and looked at Christopher’s phone right now, there would not be a video of me telling the entire dentist’s office that I’m gonna propose to you?”
Buck considers this. “Well, technically, you would not find that. Specifically. Suzanne said you were very quiet before I got there.”
“Oh,” Eddie says. “So I just told you?”
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
“Sure!”
“Chris?”
“He already knew.”
“He already knew that.”
Buck winces. “He did already know that.”
“And now he knows the other thing, I’m guessing?”
“It’s possible.”
Eddie sighs. “I knew it was a bad idea to get dental work done with secrets.”
“It could’ve been worse,” Buck suggests. “You could’ve facetimed the whole station and kept them hostage on the phone while telling everyone your secrets.”
Eddie shakes his head, smiling. “They already know. They’ve been hounding me for months about it. You also already knew. I pre-proposed.”
“Oh,” Buck sniffs. “So why haven’t you done it?”
Eddie shrugs. “It just seems like such a big deal. It is such a big deal. I didn’t know how to - - I wanted to do something worthy of you, and I could never land on something special enough, I guess.”
Buck melts. “Eddie.”
“I know. It’s stupid.”
“It’s not. It’s sweet. But you could ask me in a hot air balloon or on our couch, I wouldn’t care. I just want to be your husband.”
Eddie looks at him and nods. “One second,” he says. He reaches into the drawer and pulls out a pair of balled-up socks. “Hold this.”
Buck laughs, but takes the socks. Eddie continues handing him socks until the drawer is nearly empty and Buck’s arms are overflowing with socks. At the very back, there’s a small black box. Eddie grabs it, and sinks to one knee.
Buck’s breath catches.
“Evan Buckley,” Eddie grins. “Do you have any interest in making us pancakes every morning for the rest of our lives?”
Buck laughs, eyes already wet. “That’s my line!”
Eddie shrugs, grins. “Kinda aiming for the whole ‘what’s mine is yours’ thing, here, bud,” he jokes. “No, I - - Buck,” he clears his throat. “I want to do this with you forever. Even though you think hot air balloons are the pinnacle of romance, and put ketchup on your hotdogs.”
Buck snorts.
“I don’t know how to - - and you already know. I know you already know. No one else does, because they couldn’t. You and me, it’s too big for words, I think. And I think if I waited until I had the right ones, I’d never ask you. And I really want to ask you. I really want to be your husband, Buck.”
Buck nods urgently. He laughs, wet. “I have so many socks.”
Eddie snorts. “Drop the socks. Marry me.”
Buck drops the socks. They scatter onto the floor of the bedroom they share together, bouncing around Eddie’s probably aching knee. Buck drops down with him.
“Your knee - -” Eddie tries to protest. Buck cuts him off with an urgent kiss.
“We’re getting married,” Buck whispers between kisses.
“Did you say yes?”
Buck rolls his eyes, his grin almost too big for his face. “You knew I was going to say yes,” he teases. “You pre-proposed.”
“I didn’t want to assume,” Eddie teases back.
“Yes,” Buck confirms, so there’s absolutely no confusion. “I’m going to marry the fuck out of you, Eddie Diaz. I’m going to marry you so hard.”
Eddie grins, taking the ring out of its box and sliding it onto Buck’s ring finger. He takes Buck’s hand and holds it up in front of his face, running his thumb over the ring where it sits on his finger.
“You found it,” Buck smiles.
“What?”
“Nothing. Doesn’t matter. I love you so fucking much.”
Eddie grins and kisses him. “I love you,” he kisses. “I love you.”
“Oh, hey!’ Christopher chirps from the doorway. “You found it!”
“He said yes!” Eddie announces.
“Cool,” Christopher offers with as much sincerity as a teenager can offer. “I’m not wearing a tux.”
“You don’t have to,” Buck insists.
“Cool. Can I show people the video now?”
“No.”
“What video?”
“Chris. He’s literally still on one knee.”
“Oh,” Christopher blinks, like he hadn’t really registered that. He holds his photo up and takes a series of photos of the picture they make — surrounded by socks and kneeling on their bedroom floor. “Can I send these to people?”
“No,” they both respond. Then they look at each other. Actually. It’s as good a way as any to get the word out.
Buck shrugs at Eddie. Eddie shrugs at Buck.
“Send it to family first, bud,” Eddie suggests.
Buck’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and finds two new messages in the Firefam group chat. It’s the photo he just took, immediately followed by the video of Eddie after the dentist.
“Christopher.”
“You said I could! After he proposed!”
Buck’s phone starts vibrating erratically in his palm. Eddie eyes it like it’s about to explode.
“You said he could what, exactly?”