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Buck should have known the second Maddie said, “Trust me,” that he absolutely should not have trusted her.
It had been the night of the 118’s bachelor auction–a ridiculous, well-intentioned fundraiser that Hen swore would be “fun” when she came to visit the station and Chim had immediately started live-commentating like it was the Super Bowl itself coming to LA. Buck had been auctioned off easily, grinning and flexing for the crowd because that’s what people expected from him. He didn't mind, now that he knew more of what he wanted. As long as he knew himself, well, the rest was natural. He can sell sexy. Buck has always known he's good at that.
Eddie, on the other hand, had looked like he’d rather run back into a burning building than take to the stage.
Buck remembers it clearly. The tightness in Eddie’s jaw as bids climbed, the way his shoulders went stiff when some woman in the front row raised her paddle one too many times. Buck had almost stepped in. Almost made a joke, almost tanked the whole thing.
And then Maddie had become a mystery bidder on the phone, buying Eddie with a calm type of casualness that stunned the whole team. The bid had jumped just high enough that no one else was willing to bet on a single father who, although egregiously attractive, looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than on that stage.
Eddie stared at Maddie like she’d just disarmed a bomb before jumping down from the stage and informing everyone that he actually paid for himself, with Maddie's help.
Afterward, Buck had cornered her. “What was that?”
She’d just shrugged. “I didn’t want him stuck on a date he didn’t want.”
“Or,” Buck had teased, “you’ve secretly been in love with my best friend this whole time.”
Maddie had smiled in that soft, knowing way that always made him nervous. “Relax,” she’d said with a laugh. “I’m not the one he’s in love with anyway.”
Buck hadn’t even registered it at the time. He’d laughed. Rolled his eyes. Moved on.
He’s thinking about that now as he stands outside The Little Door, staring at the warm glow spilling through the restaurant windows.
Two days ago, Maddie had called him, let him know that she's had the perfect date for him. Mr. Right she said.
“I’m setting you up!”
“With who?” Buck had asked, already half-dreading it. He was ready to settle down, they all knew it. He didn't want to be that guy anymore. He wanted more. A family. Stability. And a blind date seemed like the very antithesis of those things. He just didn't want to waste anymore time.
“You’ll like him.”
“That’s vague.”
She’d gone quiet for a moment before saying, softer, “Buck, I think he’s the one.”
Buck had laughed that off too. “I don't even know him, Mads”
“But I know you,” she’d replied, easy and gentle like she always was when she fell into a more maternal role with him.
And that had stuck.
Because Maddie does know him. Knows the way he throws himself into love like it’s a rescue. The ways he's dramatic, breathless, desperate to prove something. Knows how often it burns out just as fast and how he tries so desperately to hang on, just to lose himself in the process. To lose when makes him Buck and have to rebuild each time, a little bit more of his heart carved out each time.
“You need someone steady,” she’d added. “Someone who’s already there.”
Buck hadn’t understood what that meant.
Until he walks inside the restaurant and sees Eddie.
He should have never trusted his sister.
—
It’s not dramatic. There’s no swelling music. No cinematic slow-motion. No voiceover comes from the sky. No camera crew pops out.
Eddie is just… there.
Standing near the host stand with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, staring at the standing menu like it might give him tactical instructions on how to handle the date he's walked into. There's obvious discomfort and nerves. But he looks good. And really that's the first, unhelpful thought that hits Buck as he stares at the dark button down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows and just one too many buttons undone. The dark lines of his tattoo stand out against tan skin, just a bit of chest hair peeking out from the black undershirt that is just barely visible. His hair is a little beater than usual, but pieces still fall onto his forehead like he was attempting to not look like he was trying too hard.
It takes a minute, but eventually Eddie looks up. Their eyes meet and Buck feels something shift right there in the middle of a crowded LA restaurant on a Friday night where all he wanted to do was stay in bed.
There’s a flicker of confusion at first, then recognition. It fades to something a bit sharper as Buck takes a step forward, unable to form a single word as he does.
“Oh,” Eddie says quietly.
Buck feels heat rush up his neck. “Oh.”
They just stand there for a second. Because they both know that this isn't a coincidence. The universe hasn't given them two separate dates where they'd be sitting in the same restaurant rating each other's game.
Maddie “won” Eddie at the auction.
Maddie told Buck she was setting him up with a guy he’d really like.
Maddie said he was the one.
“Oh my God,” Buck breathes. “I–”
Eddie exhales hard, almost a laugh, but it sounds a bit choked. “Your sister.”
“My sister,” Buck agrees faintly.
A dozen emotions crash into him at once. Embarrassment. Panic. Something dangerously close to hope.
“She told me she was cashing in the auction date,” Eddie says. “She was pretty sure I'd like the person she was sending to meet me.”
“She told me she found someone perfect for me.”
There’s a pause.
Eddie’s mouth quirks despite him obviously trying to hold it back. “Did she use the words ‘the one’?”
Buck groans. “Yes.”
Eddie drops his head, shaking it. But he’s smiling even as he flushes and his cheeks go a light shade of pink.
Buck feels something loosen in his chest, because Eddie isn’t angry. He isn’t bolting. He isn’t horrified. Not at the idea of being on a date with a man. Not at being set up with buck. Instead he's amused if not a bit flustered by it. A little pink around the ears. A little bit embarrassed. But he isn't leaving. Isn't freaking out or dropping to the floor in a panic.
“You wanna just leave?” Buck asks, because that’s the logical move. Right? Laugh it off. Go back to normal. Go back to one of their houses to play video games and eat pizza and rag on Maddie's ridiculous idea. Even if the knowledge that Eddie could never want him would kill Buck, would end him internally. He knows. He's always known that he isn't what Eddie wants. He just wasn't prepared to face it like this.
“We can–we can go.”
Eddie looks up at him. And that's when Buck sees it. When he finally thinks that maybe he's been the blind one all along. Because there's no fear when Eddie looks at him. A bit of embarrassment? Sure. A flicker of uncertainty? Absolutely. But fear? Rejection? Buck looks for them and doesn't find it. Instead he sees consideration looking back at him in the form of soft hazel.
“You want to?” Eddie asks as he gestures towards the dining room full of tables. And Buck knows that this is Eddie saying what he wants, giving Buck the final say. Giving him the ability to make or break the moment, to push them forwards or drop the floor from beneath them.
Buck thinks about every dinner they’ve ever had. Takeout containers on Eddie’s coffee table while Christopher narrates a Lego battle. Late-night burgers after long shifts where they can barely move. Beers on Buck’s couch, knees bumping and shoulders touching as they talk about everything and nothing all at once.
This wouldn’t be different.
Except that it would.
Because this time they’d both know why they’re here. There's nothing to hide behind in this restaurant and they both know it.
“I mean,” Buck says slowly, “we’re already dressed.”
Eddie huffs. “Free food. Your sister pre-paid. Well, I prepaid I guess.”
“Yea. Okay. Free food.”
The host approaches. “Reservation for Buckley?”
Eddie hesitates for half a second before nodding. “Yeah.”
And just like that, they follow her inside where she leads them to a small table. It's romantic. Intimate. There's already water on the coasters and a lit candle between them.
Buck keeps staring at it because it’s easier than looking at Eddie. Except, he keeps looking anyway. Because he thinks he's allowed to, at least right now. And because he knows that, he can't stop.
He’s known this man for years. Knows the crease that forms between his brows when he’s thinking. Knows the exact shade his eyes turn when the light hits them like this; warmer, almost honeyed. He knows the way his voice softens when he talks about Christopher or the way it depends when they're on a call and he's transitioned into his old army training. He knows the weight of those hands on his shoulders, and can feel the ghost of a thumb against his collar bone.
Best friend.
That’s what Eddie is. That's what he's always been from the moment he stepped into the station, even before Buck was willing to accept it. Eddie is his person. The one he calls first. The one he trusts without thinking. And he knows, without a single doubt, that Eddie thinks of him in that way too.
And now–
Now Maddie has drawn a bright red circle around the one thing that Buck has chosen to be blind to, has tried to ignore for so long.
“You’re staring,” Eddie says, breaking Buck from his own thoughts, startling him.
“Am not.”
Eddie’s lips twitch. “You are.”
Buck leans back in his chair, defensive. “I’m just trying to figure out how long she’s been planning this.”
Eddie’s gaze drops to the table. “Long enough.”
There’s something in his tone that makes Buck’s stomach flip.
“You knew?” Buck asks.
Eddie shakes his head. “Not exactly. I just–she asked me some questions the other day.”
“What kind of questions?”
“About you.”
Buck’s pulse stutters. “What about me?”
Eddie shrugs, but his fingers fidget against the table. “If I thought you deserved better than what you’ve had. If I thought you’d ever stop chasing people who can't even meet you halfway.”
Buck goes very still. “What did you say?” he asks quietly, thinking of all the things that Eddie could say, all the observations he could make that could shatter Buck in this moment.
Eddie looks up, meets his eyes as he speaks.
“I said you deserve someone who already knows you,” he says. “Someone who doesn’t have to figure you out and wants to stay even when things get hard.”
The air feels thinner the more he talks and Buck feels himself swallow the emotions threatening to spill over.
“Like who?”
Eddie holds his gaze. The answer is there. It always has been, has been there for years.
Buck thinks about the shooting. About Eddie’s blood on his hands. About the way his world had narrowed down to one singular, desperate thought. Stay with me. Hold on. Don't leave. Don't do this to Chris, to our friends, to your family. To me.
He thinks about every time he’s walked into Eddie’s house and felt settled. Like he didn’t have to perform. Didn’t have to be the loudest, the biggest, the most. He doesn't ever have to take up space or fill silence. He thinks about the way he fits there so effortlessly. Like he was always meant to.
“You ever think,” Buck says slowly, “that maybe we’re the only ones who didn’t see it?
“See what?” he asks, but it’s softer now. Like he knows the answer and is just waiting for Buck to say it first, to take the step and pull them both over the edge. Eddie is right there. He's offering it. Buck just has to reach out and take it, put the words there.
“This,” Buck says finally, gesturing between them, the space feeling suddenly charged and electric.
Eddie’s knee brushes his under the table. Neither of them moves away.
Buck’s heart pounds so hard it almost hurts. It feels like it could rip from his chest and any moment and throw itself into Eddie's hands. There's so much he wants but doesn't know how to ask for. So much he needs but doesn't know how to take. But he wants to and if Eddie is willing to try too, then who is Buck to refuse what the universe has been screaming at them for years while they covered their ears and turned away. But it's impossible to ignore now. To stop it.
“I didn’t think you–” Eddie starts, then stops.
“Didn’t think I what?”
Eddie exhales. “I didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that.”
Buck’s entire body goes warm. He pushes. Just a bit further. Just a little more.
“Like what?”
“Like I might be enough.”
That does it. That cracks something open wide in an irreversible way that he can't quite explain. Because Buck has never–not once– thought that Eddie wasn't enough.
He thinks Eddie is steady. Brave. Gentle in ways most people don’t get to see. He thinks Eddie is home. And maybe that’s the problem in the end. Maybe Buck never looked too closely at what “home” meant. Maybe he took it for granted and built it up on a shifting foundation. But he has a chance at repair here, to pump concrete into the base and hold it all together before it slips away in a violent, messy heap.
“You are,” Buck says firmly. “More than enough.”
Eddie’s eyes shine a little in the candlelight as they look at each other and the silence stretches between them. It's not awkward, never has been between them . Even as it grows he at with the words they've just said, still full of all the ones they haven't yet.
It's a slow and cautious movement the way Eddie sets his hand on the table after a few moments. Palm up. Waiting. This is the line. The offering. He could laugh it off. Make a joke. Retreat. Buck could pretend it meant nothing, attempt to sway it away, back to what they've always been. But he's never been too good about calculating risk and he's not about to start now. So he reaches out, slides his hand into Eddie's.
It's a perfect fit. Like puzzle pieces clicking together.
Of course it is.
Eddie’s fingers curl around his like they’ve always known how. And Buck feels it. It's not fireworks or electricity. Nothing hits him in the chest or makes his knees want to buckle. It's just an overwhelming feeling of…right. A sense of something steady and solid that settles into his very core.
“Oh,” Buck whispers, no other words able to form. Eddie just smiles at him and shakes his head before turning towards the menu in front of him, cheeks dusted pink in the low light.
They finish dinner still holding hands. They talk about everything and nothing all at once. About Christopher and his last math test, about work, about how Maddie is absolutely going to be unbearable about this when they tell her the plan worked. It's their normal conversation, but everything feels softer now. Aligned. Somehow more complete.
When they step outside into the cool night air, Buck still doesn't let go.
“So,” Eddie says quietly as they walk towards the parking lot together. “Was she right?”
Buck smiles. “Yeah,” he says, giving Eddie's fingers a squeeze. “I think she was.”
“There’s no big revelation,” Buck admits when he still sees Eddie staring at him, breathing still a bit uneven. “It just–I think maybe it was always inevitable in some way.”
“I was scared I was too late,” Eddie confesses with a shake in his voice. “That you’d figure it out with someone else.”
Buck steps closer, bringing them chest to chest.
“Guess Maddie really didn't want to see that happen.”
Eddie laughs softly at that.
Buck leans in.
The kiss is gentle. Careful. It's not rushed in any way or heated. Like they both understand this isn’t something fragile exactly, but something that’s been building for years. Something they want to care for, treat with the reverence it deserves. And Buck puts everything he can behind it, pulls Eddie closer as he melts, runs a hand up his back, gasps when Eddie responds by threading a hand into his curls. The parking lot fades away around them as Buck pushes Eddie against the back of his truck pinning him there with ease. Eddie's lips fall open in response and Buck takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth, trying not to laugh when a soft whine escapes and he doesn't quite know which one of them it was.
When they pull back, Buck rests his forehead against Eddie’s, letting their bodies stay melded to each other, feeling the heat between layers of clothes that Buck really wishes weren't in his way, even if that might be moving a little too fast. He doesn't care. He's waited a lifetime, he deserves to think like that now that he recontextualize every moment he's ever seen a glimpse of Eddie's body, and by the look in the other man's eyes, Buck knows he's thinking it too.
“Best first date I’ve ever had,” he murmurs.
“And I paid almost 3k for it,” Eddie huffs.
Buck just grins and laughs, he can't help it. “Worth every penny.”
And for the first time in a long time, Buck doesn’t feel like he’s chasing something.
He feels like he’s arrived.