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Buck tears his helmet off and throws it on the ground, inhaling fresh air greedily as someone pulls the cat from his arms, crying just loud enough to be heard over the roaring in his ears. He blinks the soot from his eyes and swings his gaze around; watches the family pull the girl and her cat across the street. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards.
Good.
He did good.
Something spins him around roughly, the flashing lights of the engine and the ambulance blurring with the orange of the fire at his back as he spins. He blinks, stumbles as Eddie steps in towards him, mouth curling into a frown.
“Are you—”
Buck bats his hands away, “I’m good,” He says. “And I know Chim’s gonna give me an earful—”
“I don’t know about Chim,” Eddie says, glowering, “but I am. What the hell were you thinking?”
Disbelief churns in Buck’s stomach. “I was saving that little girls cat?” He says, motioning towards where the family’s watching from the other side of the street. “You can’t seriously be standing here telling me you wouldn’t do the same thing?”
“You were ordered to—”
“They’re losing everything!” Buck exclaims, shaking his head, brows furrowing almost painfully. His voice burns a bit on the way out, crackling with the remnants of the smoke curdling in his throat. “I wasn’t about to stand by and watch them lose more just because I—”
“That’s bullshit.”
Buck reels back. Scoffs, almost impulsively. Thinks about last week, when Eddie climbed out on that rickety balcony without waiting for them to finish anchoring the harness. The bone deep fear when he slipped and Buck saw his future flash before his eyes—telling Chris, fighting for Chris, living the rest of his life without Eddie—and barrels forward, leering down at him, his own mounting frustration breeching. “So it’s okay for you?” He demands, sneering. “When Eddie Diaz wants to be reckless, it’s no problem. But when I—”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, stomping into his space and holding his gaze without an ounce of hesitation. “It’s different.”
A manic, crackling, debelieving laugh punches out of Buck’s stomach. “How?” He asks, shaking his head and throwing his hands out at his sides. “How the hell is that any different? You almost died!”
“Because,” Eddie says, voice deep and angry and full of something Buck can’t quite identify, “When I'm being reckless it's not with the hope that something goes wrong!"
Buck’s anger topples over the edge of a cliff.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
"Whether or not you believe it, Buck,” He says his name like it’s a curse, and reaches out, jabbing Buck in the chest, right over where his heart is. It’s not hard, he can hardly feel it through the layers of his turnouts, but it’s somehow, simultaneously the only thing in the entire world he actually physically feels in the moment. “What happens to you? Matters to us!”
The anger in Eddie’s expression shudders, and Buck watches as it completely slips away, something wide and frightening flickering behind his eyes, as he jabs him again, his voice cracking with a wild, “To me.”
That’s—
Buck shakes his head, stepping in towards him, applying pressure to where Eddie’s poking him. “I—”
“No,” Eddie shakes his head, swallowing, dragging his hand away from Buck and sucking in his cheeks. “You—walk into fire hoping you won’t make it out.” The fire’s reflecting in Eddie’s eyes, but there’s a line of water filling the corners, warbling the reflection. “What am I supposed to do with that? You won’t talk about it, you won’t—let anyone in to help. And I can’t even have your back in there anymore to make sure you make it out. Do you know how that feels?”
Buck shakes his head. “That’s not—” He takes a step back, away from him. “That’s not what this was.”
“I don’t even know which of us you’re trying to lie to.”
Neither. Both.
He’s not—
That’s not what this was.
She just looked so sad. And she was crying out for her cat, and the team had all their bases covered, and if he didn’t go in when he did, there was a chance she’d have lost her best friend with everything else. And Buck hasn’t lost Eddie, not really, but he knows what it feels like to think he has. He knows what it feels like to lose everything that matters and she’s so young. He couldn’t just—stand there and let her lose her best friend, too.
It wasn’t—
He wasn’t being reckless with the hopes of everything that hurts to stop hurting.
Not this time.
This time he just—
He wanted to do something that matters. He wanted to save that little girl a handful of tears. To make sure she didn’t go through this night without her best friend. Because he knows. Buck knows what it’s like to go through his worst night without his best friend.
But.
He turns away from him, throwing a hand out at his side as if waving off the conversation. He can’t do this. He can’t have this talk. It’s a false comparison. He’s been reckless for the sake of recklessness in the past. This isn’t that.
The cat mattered.
The cat mattered.
“Oh,” Eddie yells after him, tone almost mocking. “So that’s it? You’re just going to walk away?”
Buck stops, biting down on his cheek. He knows, distantly, that they’re making a scene. That everyone who isn’t actively putting what’s left of the fire out can see and hear everything they’re saying. He sighs. “I don’t know why you’re so pissed,” he mutters, twisting back around to face him just in time to see Eddie’s eyebrows rise high up on his forehead.
“You don’t know why I’m pissed?” Eddie asks, stepping towards him.
Shit. He needs to walk away before this blows up. They’re one throw away comment from explosion.
Buck whips back around, taking a step towards the engine and away from Eddie. “That’s what I said,” he calls over his shoulder. Which—maybe, isn’t the thing to say to cool things down.
But—
“I’m pissed,” Eddie shouts back, voice frayed and desperate, “Because I fucking love you.”
And Buck’s knees buckle but hold as the words reverberate and settle along the ridges of his spine, forcing him to stop. To go entirely still.
To let the words slam into him and wring every last ounce of fight out of him.
Did he just—
“Did you hear me?” Eddie asks, his voice drifting in and out between the simmering of the flames and the crackling of the building as it sways with the wind.
“O . . . kay,” Chimney says suddenly, grabbing Buck’s arm and twisting him in the direction of the ambulance. “Before we go any further, Buckley, go get checked out at the ambo.” He twists, and even though he’s right next to him, Buck can barely hear him over the rumbling of his heartbeat in his ears, “Diaz, you’re gonna go help with triage. Don’t look at me like that. Go.”
Buck twists, following Chimney’s gaze, catches the tail end of Eddie’s gaze turning away, before he turns and stalks off in the direction Chimney’s pointing. Blearily, Buck turns back to Chim.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” Chim says quietly, sternly. “You’re an idiot, and I’m telling my wife what you did and she’s going to give you a piece of her mind and you’re going to sit there and find a way to make up for it. But right now, we need to make sure you don’t have smoke in your lungs, even if you so clearly have it for brains.” He reaches up and flicks Buck in the temple.
Buck blinks down at him.
“Did Eddie just say he loves me?”
Chimney groans, pushing him towards the ambulance.
Buck looks over his shoulder as he’s shoved, past the crowd of people pretending like they weren’t paying attention, through the smoke drifting through the breeze, to Eddie, where he’s next to the little girl, hand out and carefully scratching between the ears of the little black cat Buck pulled from the fire.
He doesn’t look back at Buck.
All at once he’s torn away from his staring as he’s unceremoniously dumped on the back of the ambulance and a paramedic from another house slips an oxygen mask over his face. “Quite the show,” she murmurs, leaning over him to grab something from behind him.
“He said he loves me,” He replies, dazed, looking up at her as she comes back around, his words muffled by the mask.
“Follow the light.”
He does as he’s told, brows furrowing as his gaze drifts back towards where Eddie is. “He’s never said that before,” he says, frowning as she moves in front of him. “What do you think he meant?”
The light disappears and he follows her with his eyes as she picks up a clipboard and writes something down. “No sign of a concussion,” she murmurs, before setting the clipboard down and leaning past him to grab something from the gurney behind him.
“Maybe I misheard him? Do you think I misheard him?”
She hums, coming back around and tearing open a package.
“I don’t think I misheard him.”
She nods, bringing an alcohol swab up and dabbing at his temple. He hisses, jerking away from the sting, and she steadies him, frowning. “It doesn’t look too bad,” She says. “I don’t think you’ll need stitches. It’s just a lot of blood.”
Buck squints up at her. “Do you think he meant loves me, or—he couldn’t have meant—”
“Wait,” She pauses, meeting his gaze. Dropping her hands to her side, she raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me you and Firefighter Diaz aren’t a thing? That wasn’t a lovers spat?”
He shakes his head side to side once.
Her mouth parts.
Before she can respond, though, Ravi appears at her side. “You are the worst partner I’ve ever had,” He says, leaning in and narrowing his eyes at what Buck assumes is the gash she’d been cleaning on his temple. “Don’t even give me the chance to have your back, just run into a fire we’ve all been ordered to evacuate to save a cat. Meanwhile, Eddie’s out here losing his mind, because I’m out here and you’re in there. Alone.” He shakes his head, turning to the paramedic. “What’s the damage?”
“Doesn’t appear to need stitches.”
Ravi clicks his tongue, turning back to him. “Concussion?”
The paramedic shakes her head, turning to Buck as well. “‘Fraid not.”
Ravi hums. “Well,” He shrugs, and crosses his arms. “Looks like he’s riding in the engine with the rest of us, then.” He smiles, but there’s an edge to it. “Can’t wait to see how that turns out.”
Buck offers up a weak cough through the mask, turning to the paramedic.
“Don’t look at me,” She says, patting him on the shoulder and shrugging. “You’re the one who disregarded direct orders.” She leans over to the clipboard and glances back at Ravi. “He’ll need a few with the oxygen and then you’ll be good to take him.”
Buck watches as she writes something else on the clipboard. “You thought we were together?” He asks, quietly.
She pauses, glancing up at him. “Sweetheart,” she says, in what he assumes is meant to be a gentle, calming tone, but only manages to get Buck’s heart hammering again. “Everyone thought you were together.”
“But,” Buck says, voice crackling even with the extra flow of oxygen. “Eddie’s straight.”
The paramedic turns to Ravi.
“Don’t look at me,” He says without meeting her gaze. “I cannot pretend to understand.”
After getting unceremoniously dumped in the front seat of the engine to wait for everyone else to finish up their tasks, Buck sits and watches the scene of their call wind down. The family is still sitting on the lawn across the street, a cop who isn’t Athena—sometimes Buck forgets there are cops other than Athena—taking their statement. The little girl’s sitting next to her brother, their cat in her lap, preening under their gentle attention.
The tear tracks on their cheeks are dried and all but forgotten, attention fixed on the cat between them.
Maybe Buck shouldn’t have gone in after it.
But it’s hard to regret it, even with crispy vocal chords and an aching head, when the kids aren’t thinking about all they’ve lost while it’s being extinguished in front of them.
The backdoor swings open, and Buck twists around to watch as Ravi climbs in, giving Buck a knowing look before sliding into the furthest seat. Buck frowns, but then a familiar head of brown hair climbs in after him, taking the seat facing away from the front.
Eddie buckles himself in without so much as casting a single look in Buck’s direction.
As if he didn’t just tell Buck he loves him in front of every house in a twenty mile radius.
Buck looks at Ravi.
Ravi shrugs in a don’t look at me, this is your drama manner, as one of the floaters opens the drivers side door and climbs into the drivers seat as Chimney hops in the back with Eddie and Ravi.
“Back to the station, Greer,” Chim says, pulling the door shut behind himself. He pauses, glancing at Buck. “Buck, you’re man behind the rest of this shift. And on latrine duty. For the rest of the month.” He narrows his eyes, “And you’re not allowed to tag Eddie in on it, either.”
Eddie scoffs. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
Ravi snorts.
Chim turns to Eddie. “Don’t get me started on you, Dee-ahz,” He says, pointing.
“Right,” Eddie mutters. “Buck’s the one who disregards direct orders, almost gets himself killed, and I’m in trouble.”
Buck turns around.
Bites his tongue.
Eddie said he loves him.
“Remind me who caused a scene?” Chim asks.
Nobody replies.
“That’s what I thought.”
Buck hops out of the engine, groaning. His head throbs and his right shoulder twinges—probably from stretching under the bed to reach for the cat. Chim steps up to him, narrowing his eyes.
“Go clean up,” He says, tone softer than before, less angry, more concerned.
Buck nods, glancing over Chim’s shoulder as Eddie walks past them both and heads up towards the loft without a word to either of them. “Why’s he ignoring me now?”
Chim’s eyebrows rise. “You scared him,” He says, smacking his gum and crossing his arms. “Hell, you scared all of us. Give him a bit to calm down.”
Eddie disappears over the top of the stairs, and Buck turns back to Chimney. “He said he loves me.”
Giving him his most unimpressed look, Chim says, “Yeah, and if you go wash all that blood off your face he might forget why he’s mad at you and say it again.”
Buck freezes, air going stagnant in his chest, before he exhales it slowly. “You—you think he’ll say it again?”
He sighs. “Go clean up, Buck.”
“Is—is that a no?”
“You’re covered in blood.”
Buck takes a step back, frowning. “You don’t think he meant it.”
“Did I say that?” Chim runs a hand through his hair and steps back, waving him off. “You’re hopeless. Won’t admit you’re in love with him, won’t accept that he loves you—”
“He’s s—”
“Don’t,” Chimney points a stern finger in his direction, holding Buck’s gaze for a long beat, before carefully turning the finger and pointing it towards the bathroom. “Go wash off the blood. Clear your head a bit, alright? Then—then go try and talk to him.”
Buck looks back up towards the loft.
“What—what if he didn’t mean it?”
Chim sighs. “Or live in delusion and denial and die alone, that works, too.” He shakes his head, opens his mouth like he’s going to say something else, then just sighs again before turning and walking away.
Buck watches after him until he disappears, before sighing and heading for the bathroom.
He pushes the door open, wincing as the ache in his shoulder ricochets down his arm. He should’ve pushed the bed out of the way, but he hadn’t been thinking. So focused on following the meows, on getting himself and the cat out fast enough.
Blinking beneath the fluorescent lights, he makes his way to the sink, frowning at the sight of his reflection.
Shit.
No wonder why everyone’s looking at him like that.
He reaches up, dragging his index finger along the edge of the gauze on his temple, following the thick trail of dried blood where it covers his birth mark, down over his cheek bone, all the way to where it disappears beneath his turnouts. He scratches at the blood on the collar of his top, sighing, before reaching out and turning the sink on, leaning on the side of the sink with his good arm and closing his eyes.
The dark helps.
Dulls the throbbing in his head.
Takes him back to the scene, though. To whipping around and finding Eddie staring at him with that wild gaze. Thinking about what he must have seen.
He made sure he got out, though.
It wasn’t—recklessness for the sake of recklessness.
Somewhere far away, faint over the sound of rushing water, he hears the bathroom door swing open, creaking as someone holds it open long enough to let themselves in before it swings shut behind them. He waits for the sound of a stall door to follow it, or footsteps, but it’s just the rush of water, Buck’s heartbeat, and his slightly wheezy breaths.
He lifts his head and opens his eyes, blinking blearily at his reflection.
Eddie raises an eyebrow behind him.
“You look like shit.”
It startles a hoarse laugh out of him, and he nods, slowly pushing away from the sink and reaching for the paper towel dispenser. “Feel like it too, if that helps.”
The muscle in Eddie’s jaw jumps, “No,” He says, his voice cracking as he steps forward into the space between two sinks and gently takes Buck’s hand to lower it to the sink. “It doesn’t.” He holds it there, gaze dipping down to it, his lips pursing, before he turns to the paper towel dispenser and jabs the button on the top to pop it open.
“I can—”
“Shut up, Buck,” Eddie interrupts, grabbing a stack of paper towels and dropping them on the counter. He takes one from the top of the stack and runs it under the water, bringing his other hand around to adjust the temperature, tweaking the hot and cold nobs until he’s satisfied. Finally, he turns back to Buck’s hand, still where he left it, and gently picks it up.
Buck watches, mystified, as he lifts it, and carefully starts wiping away the soot and dried blood.
Buck swallows down a lump in his throat, gaze dipping with every run of the paper towel, following the path Eddie treks over his skin; every rise and fall, every careful exploration. Once Eddie decides the paper towel is done, he drops it on the counter and reaches for another, running it under the water—not too hot, not too cold, but exactly what Buck needs when Eddie turns Buck’s hand and sets it to the small nick on his wrist.
He always knows exactly what Buck needs.
“You’re an idiot,” Eddie mutters eventually, gaze locked on Buck’s hand as he presses a thumb into the skin to hold it still while he scrubs at a particularly stubborn speck of blood like he needs to get rid of every last drop of proof that Buck got himself hurt.
Buck nods. “Yeah.”
Satisfied with the clean wrist, he sets Bucks hand back on the counter and grabs another paper towel, taking a deep breath that looks less like filling his lungs and more like settling his resolve. That muscle in his jaw jumps again, and finally—finaly—Eddie’s gaze lifts, meets Buck’s for a fraction of a second, before following the trail of blood up to the gauze at his temple.
He sniffs, turning away to set his paper towel down before coming back around and reaching up to remove the gauze. He works with clinical precision, touch simple and gentle as he pulls it off to inspect the damage beneath. Buck watches the lines of his face, tracks every worried crease, annoyed furrow. Keeps a tally of every time that muscle in Eddie’s jaw jumps.
“Are—” Buck pauses, clearing his throat as Eddie turns away again and tosses the bandage in the trash can. He raises an eyebrow when he twists back around, and Buck tries again, “Are we gonna talk about it?”
Eddie picks up another paper towel, draws it under the water. “Talk about what?” He asks, bringing it up to gently wipe at the area nearest the cut. “You disregarding direct orders? You running back into a catastrophic fire with no back up? You . . .” His brow furrows, lips pursing as he drags the paper towel into Buck’s hairline. “Getting hurt and barely making it out before your only exit collapsed?”
He finally meets Buck’s gaze; solid, unyielding.
“Or you still not understanding that what happens to you matters?”
Buck blinks.
Should probably address all of that.
But.
He’s got a bit of a one track mind.
“You said you love me.”
Eddie turns away, shaking his head as he drops the spoiled paper towel on the counter and grabs another. “I did,” he says, running it under the water.
“What—what did you mean by that?”
He tenses, then sighs, pulling the paper towel out from beneath the water. “What do you think I meant by it?” He asks, facing him again, but not meeting his eyes, as he starts on the dried blood closest to his birth mark, his free hand settling on Buck’s good shoulder to hold himself steady.
“That I’m your best friend?”
“You are,” Eddie agrees with a dip of his chin, his brow furrowing as he tilts his head to the side, and drags the paper towel over his birth mark, less in a cleaning motion more in—preserving. Like he’s making sure he’s robbed it of all evidence of perceived harm. He pauses at the end of the motion, his hand shifting, thumb coming up to trace along the edge of it. “But that’s not why I said it.”
“Then why—”
Eddie follows the motion of his thumb as it continues to trace the outline of Buck’s birthmark, right over the ridge of his eyebrow. Buck’s eyes flutter shut.
“I think you know,” Eddie murmurs, his voice soft, barely loud enough to be heard over the rush of water and Buck’s thudding heart.
His thumb shifts away, warmth traveling down the column of Buck’s throat, before disappearing entirely and being replaced with another damp paper towel. Slowly, Buck blinks him back into focus as he starts on the dried blood on Buck’s cheekbone. “I do?” He asks.
Eddie pauses. Takes another deep breath, and then finally, meets Buck’s gaze again. “Yeah,” he says, his eyes dancing back and forth between Buck’s, like he wants him to see, wants him to understand. “You do.”
Which—
What the hell is he supposed to do with that?
“E—Eddie, you’re—”
Eddie’s gaze dips down.
It doesn’t follow the path of dried blood.
It—
Jesus, it almost looks like he’s looking at Buck’s lips.
Slowly, his gaze comes back up, like he’s taking his time, and he wants Buck to know he’s taking his time. Like he doesn’t want any of this to be misunderstood. But how can it not? Buck’s brain is filling in dots that can’t—
Possibly—
“I’m?” Eddie asks, the hand on Buck’s shoulder slipping, Eddie’s fingers catching on the fabric and holding tight.
Buck blinks.
“Straight?”
Eddie’s brow furrows. He closes his eyes, and lets out a slow breath. Mutters something under his breath in Spanish that Buck thinks he should probably be grateful he doesn’t understand.
“You said it yourself,” he mutters. “I haven’t even looked at a woman in over a year, Buck.”
“I—I know, but—”
“I’m not wearing a chastity belt,” He continues, opening his eyes and looking at Buck seriously. “I’m not making excuses not to date. I’m right where I want to be. Who I want to be with.” He squeezes Buck’s shoulder, the hand on his cheek sliding down and settling on the side of the column of Buck’s throat, heavy and solid and so, so warm, even with the cooling paper towel pressed in the center of his palm. “I’ve been trying to tell you for months.”
Breathless, Buck asks, “Trying to tell me?”
“You know,” Eddie says, voice bordering on pleading, his thumb sweeping over the edge of Buck’s jaw. “Don’t tell me you don’t. You know.”
Buck swallows, eyes fluttering shut as he leans into the touch.
Saturday night. They’d sat on the couch, long after Chris went to bed, long after Buck should’ve left to head home. They’d been watching a marathon, Buck can’t even remember what series it was, because as the night wore on, the distance between them on the couch closed. Until they sat so close, when they leaned back, their heads lolling to the side to look at one another, sleep heavy but unwilling to rest, their noses almost touched.
Buck thought Eddie’s gaze dipped. Thought he saw a familiar look in his eyes, that he’s seen a hundred times in a hundred people's eyes, but that couldn’t be what he saw there and then. Because—
The Tuesday before that. Taco’s from that food truck they’d been hunting down since getting their first taste on that call a month ago. Eddie and Chris had stalked their socials, found where they were stationed on their day off. They’d sat under a rickety umbrella, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, the wobbling picnic table that seemingly went wherever the food truck went almost toppling their margaritas.
Eddie’d snatched Buck’s strawberry margarita and taken a long drag of it, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his gaze slow as it met Buck’s. Laughing at Buck’s outraged gasp and pushing his own towards him, while his lips were still wrapped around Buck’s straw. An open offering.
It’d felt like what’s mine is yours.
But Buck brushed it off because—
Family game night at Bobby and Athena’s. Harry declaring that couples couldn’t partner up for charades, and before Buck could celebrate because that wouldn’t stop the power duo that he and Eddie are, Eddie had flopped down next to Ravi and called him his game partner.
Bobby’s knowing smile. Still tired, still recovering, but happy.
May taking the seat next to Buck and promising they’d win, and Buck’s gaze locking on Eddie, thinking about couples, but that couldn’t be why he chose Ravi because—
Dinner. Just the three of them. Buck, Eddie, and Chris. Almost every night.
Family.
But not, because—
“Buck.”
Buck’s brows furrow.
He opens his eyes—finds Eddie right where he left him, watching him. Waiting.
Is that what he’s been doing?
“You’re not straight?” Buck asks.
Eddie sniffs, nodding, his gaze dipping to where his thumb sits on the edge of Buck’s jaw. “No,” he says, quiet and unsteady in the way a fresh confession usually is but equally sure. “I’m not.”
“Oh.”
His eyes come back up, head tilting, almost amused. “Oh? I come out and all I get is oh?”
Buck nods, shifting to face him fully, the hand on his good arm coming up to settle on Eddie’s forearm. “What,” he asks, licking his lips, though it doesn’t do much good as his mouth is still so dry from the smoke. “You want me to tell you nothing has to change between us?”
Eddie’s lip twitches. “No.”
A breath skitters out of Buck’s chest without his permission. “Oh.”
“Give me more than oh,” Eddie says. “Come on.”
“I’m processing.”
“Which part?” He asks, dragging the hand on Buck’s shoulder down to his hip. “The fact that I’m not straight, or the fact that I’m in love with you?”
I love you and I’m in love with you are—
Two.
Different.
Sentences.
Except—
Except they’re not.
Not with them.
Fuck.
Because—
“I’m in love with you, too,” Buck says in a rush, eyes going wide, his hand slipping down Eddie’s arm to grab at his uniform shirt.
Eddie’s brow furrows. “Why do you sound like you’re just now realizing it?”
“I—I think I am?”
Eddie blinks. A quiet what? That Buck can all but hear the incredulity in.
“Or, just. Accepting it?”
He nods slowly. “So you weren’t purposefully—”
“No, I—I thought you were straight. I couldn’t,” He trails off, brows furrowing almost painfully. “I couldn’t let myself believe or—or hope—”
The bathroom door swings open, and they both whip around to watch as Ravi enters. He pauses midstep at the sight of them. “I . . . think you missed a spot,” He says, motioning to Buck’s face, before turning and heading into one of the stalls.
Buck and Eddie turn back to each other, carefully unraveling, and Eddie drops the used paper towel on the counter in favor of grabbing another. Buck clears his throat, watching as he runs it under the water and then brings it up to scrub away the blood caked to the side of his face closest to his ear.
Neither of them say a word.
Buck’s pretty sure he’s going to die.
The toilet flushes.
Ravi opens the stall door, takes the sink on the other side of Eddie, humming under his breath as he soaps up his hands. Casually, he looks over at them, grinning. “You two looked cozy.”
“Eddie’s just helping me—”
“Mhm,” Ravi hums, “I’m sure he is.”
Eddie huffs, dropping the paper towel and reaching for another. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“Not really, no.” He turns off the sink and reaches for a paper towel from the dispenser, ignoring Eddie’s stack on the counter. “Can I assume that you two talked?”
Buck flushes as Eddie turns back to him with a fresh paper towel, reaching for the blood dried on the side of his throat. Swallows—ignores the way Eddie’s eyes track the movement of his Adam’s apple as he does.
“We talk all the time,” Eddie says lightly, smirking slightly as he catches Buck’s eye before returning his full attention to his task.
Ravi sighs. “And what are we talking about today?” He leans around Eddie, eyebrow quirking. “Did you tell him about how you thought he died? When the main entry collapsed?”
Eddie freezes, smirk falling as he sets his lips in an annoyed frown. “Ravi.”
Buck looks between the two of them.
“I feel like that might be a big one,” Ravi says. “Might be as important as any other conversations you’re having.” He raises his eyebrows knowingly, like he knows exactly what they were talking about, before dropping his paper towels in the trash.
“We were getting there,” Eddie says.
Buck leans back. “We were?”
Eddie frowns. “You thought we weren’t going to talk about you going into fires without backup or any idea of whether or not you’ll make it out because you don’t care if you do make it out?” He steps back. Crosses his arms.
Buck looks back and forth between them, before inhaling shakily. “Um.” Swallowing, he shakes his head. “No?” Sighs when Eddie raises his eyebrows. “That’s not what I was doing. I know it seemed like it but I just—“
“You have a team,” Eddie says. “You have a partner,” he motions vaguely towards Ravi, who nods in agreement. “Whatever your reason this time doesn’t change the fact that you disregarded all of that and almost got yourself killed.” He steps back in, reaching out and tapping at the dried blood still clinging to Buck’s collar. “This could’ve been so much worse.”
He pauses, brows furrowing with something complicated. His gaze comes up, locks with Buck’s. “Not sure how I’d break that news to Chris.”
Oh.
“I’m sorry,” Buck breathes, ducking his head. “I—I just didn’t want those kids to lose everything. I didn’t think about anything beyond that.”
Eddie nods. “You are historically terrible at saying no to kids,” He mutters, reaching up and scratching at the corner of his eye. If he thinks Buck doesn’t see him wiping at the water clinging to the corner of his eye there, Buck gives him the moment of grace.
“Christopher can attest to that.”
Eddie huffs. “I need you to think first, though. Can I ask for that much? A second for someone to tag in and have your back?”
“Because we will,” Ravi adds, waving a hand and shrugging. “Tag in, I mean.”
Buck drags his gaze away from Eddie to look at him.
Eddie twists and follows his gaze.
“Ravi?”
Ravi nods. “Yep,” He says, pointing towards the door and inching his way towards it. “Leaving. Happy for you. Bye.”
They wait for the door to close behind him before turning back to each other.
“You, too,” Buck says. “You may not want to admit it but you’re just as reckless as me.”
Eddie nods. “Deal. We both take a second to think and stop giving Chim grey hairs.”
“I think Bobby’s enjoying Chim being the one getting the grey hairs.”
His nose wrinkles. “Probably,” He murmurs, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards as he steps back in. Buck’s breath catches at the proximity. “So . . . to recap: You’ll be less reckless, I’ll also be less reckless,” He ticks each statement off on his finger, gaze going to the ceiling as if he has to think hard about each point. “ . . . What else were we—”
“You’re in love with me.”
“Ah,” Eddie nods, “Right. Almost forgot about that.”
Buck raises an eyebrow. Stupid. He’s so dumb. He can’t stand him.
“I’m in love with you,” he adds after a beat.
Eddie’s smile softens at the edges. “I didn’t forget about that.”
Buck nods, leaning in, a smile ghosting along corners of his own mouth. “Most people,” he says lighty, “Would probably kiss? Right about now?” He tilts his head side to side, winking one eye as if weighing the odds.
“I’m sure,” Eddie says, leaning in close enough that Buck can feel his breath on his cheeks. “But you smell like smoke and blood and our first kiss isn’t going to be in the bathroom.” He pulls back with a grin. “Go take a shower, some pain meds, and then come find me and we’ll talk.”
He steps backwards, grinning cheekily, and Buck reaches for him, but he takes another step out of range and shakes his head.
“Eddie, come on.”
“Shower. Pain meds. Then. Maybe.” He winks, and turns around, reaching for the door handle to pull it open. Over his shoulder, he says, “Consider it punishment for misbehaving.”
And then he’s gone.
Buck watches the door swing shut.
Damn it.
He kind of really, really loves him.
He turns back to the mirror, catching his reflection as he reaches for the faucet to turn off the water. He’ll do something to combat the water waste, make up for it somehow. Maybe shared showers? He could definitely fight for shared showers in the name of water preservation.
His reflection smiles at him—he’s a little world worn, still pink, still soot covered and littered with random blotches of dried blood.
He’s not sure he’s ever looked happier.
Their first kiss comes at the end of shift.
Long after Ravi’s regaled the tale of bathroom woe to the entire team, and they’ve wrung out every possible tease and taunt they possibly can, and Maddie’s stopped by to give Buck a piece of her mind, and Eddie her blessing—though, he did come back from helping her grab groceries a little grey under the collar indicating there may have been an extra talk Buck’s not entirely privy to.
It’s after they pull into Eddie’s driveway, the early morning sun cresting, and make their way up to his front door. Buck’s a step or two away from reaching out with his keys to unlock it, when Eddie tugs him back around by the loose grip on his hand.
Buck crashes into his chest, and laughs, breathing, “Hot,” into the space between them. Laughter bubbles bright as Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Do you ever shut up?” Eddie asks, bumping his nose against the side of Buck’s.
“You know I don’t.”
Eddie’s hand grips his hip. “Good,” he says, “Don’t.”
Buck’s still smiling when he closes the distance.