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“Can you pick up Chris today?” Eddie says into Buck’s ear through the phone.
It’s Buck's day off, and evidently he fell asleep on his bed in the middle of folding laundry.
“Are you okay?” He cringes at his sleep-rough voice.
“Yeah,” Eddie’s voice is soft. It soothes him. “Yeah, I’m okay. Picked up a 12-hour C shift.”
Eddie’s been doing that more lately. And not telling Buck about it. Which is fine. He’s not obligated to. Buck just…worries, he supposes.
“Right, okay. Yeah, I’ll get him," Buck agrees without hesitation.
“Thanks, Buck.” And he sounds truly grateful. Tired, but grateful.
“'Course, Eds. Have a good shift.”
“Thanks,” is all Eddie says, but he doesn’t hang up. It lingers. They linger.
Buck doesn’t hang up either. They just listen to each other breathe. It’s a comfortable rhythm.
The two of them have, well, settled a little more. Not everything is perfect, of course, but they haven’t felt quite as tense as they did over the summer when Eddie and Chris first got back. And Chris is a tether between them, an unbreakable bond.
“Okay, uh,” Eddie says, suddenly, “I gotta go. I’m walking in now.”
"Bye, Eddie," Buck says sleepily, checking the time.
He still has several more hours before he needs to leave to get Chris, so he lays back down and falls asleep.
…
Chris hops into the Jeep on his own, his crutches going in first, when Buck pulls into the parent pick up lane. He always feels a special privilege when he's the one who gets to be there with his little numbered placard hanging from his rear view mirror that matches with Eddie's. Like they're a matched set themselves.
"Hey," Buck says.
"Hey," Chris says back, not offering much else.
Buck knows better than to force conversation with a teenager. Plus, Chris seems pretty sucked into his phone for most of the ride. Buck tries not to be hurt, tries to give Christopher the space to grow, even if he misses that little kid who was so curious about the world around him that he never shut off with questions. It's so weird, here and now, to see that same kid so much older, so much quieter.
Buck pulls into the driveway, fully expecting Chris to just get out and walk up to the door on his own. But he doesn't.
"Will you come in for a bit?"
"Uh," Buck says, knowing damn well he doesn't have any plans. "Sure. You need dinner?"
"It's not about dinner," Chris insists, staring out the windshield.
Oh.
"Okay, yeah. No problem."
Buck cuts the engine, and they both make their way to the front door. Chris doesn't bother to pull out his house key, just watches and waits for Buck to let them in.
"Right," Buck says, fumbling to find the right one on his ring. He doesn't use his key here anymore. He's taken to knocking.
Finally, they stumble into the house, do some routines, and find themselves on that same old couch, a cushion between them.
"You wanna watch a documentary? Play a game?" Buck suggests.
Chris shakes his head. "Can I…talk to you?"
"Y-yeah, Chris. Of course. Any time."
"Any time?" Chris repeats, sounding a little skeptical as he peers over the top of his glasses right at Buck.
"Yeah, Chris. Any time. You could call me at 3 AM and I'd jump out of bed to answer your call."
Chris just blinks at him. That was too much. That was too much. That was definitely too much, he tells himself. He and Chris aren't like that. He's just his dad's dumb friend.
"You're really not bothered about your parents divorcing?" Chris says instead.
"I…what?" Buck's face scrunches in confusion. He didn't expect this to be where the conversation would go.
"The other day," Chris gesticulates, like he can physically point to the day, "you basically ran away when it got serious. Brought it back to the games instead."
Obviously, Buck did do that. He'd heard Chris say it was always hard on the kids in that oddly knowing way, and he had told Eddie he didn't want to talk about it.
The games still loom over them, the flight just a few days out, but Chris really seems like he wants to talk about this. Buck isn't his parent, but he knows Eddie's raised him to know he can communicate whenever he needs to. Buck loves that about Chris.
"Chris," Buck sighs out. "My relationship with my parents is complicated. I started doing therapy because of them. I've had to do a lot of work to come to terms with them and where we are now. I…as bad as it is to say, in a lot of ways, I think I've written them off? They're my parents, yeah, and I love them because they're my parents, but I'm not sure I really like them and I don't let them get too close because I don't want them to hurt me again."
That's the short of it. He isn't sure he's willing or able to go beyond that with Chris. Chris really doesn't know much about them, doesn't know about Daniel, doesn't know about Buck's childhood, doesn't know Maddie basically raised him.
"I'm not a little kid anymore," Chris insists. "You don't have to hide things from me."
That hits Buck weird. He's not hiding? Chris isn't his kid. And Chris doesn't need to know all the sordid details of his dad's weird friend's life.
"Chris, I'm not hiding things from you. There's a lot in my life you don't know, don't need to know, stuff that even your dad doesn't know."
"Why do you get to decide what I need to know?" He sounds a little petulant as he says it.
"Chris, it's for your dad to say, not me."
That was the wrong thing to say, apparently. Chris's whole face turns stormy.
"This is what I meant!" Chris shouts, startling Buck back into the couch.
"What-what you meant about what?"
"About it being hard on the kids," Chris reiterates, leaning onto the couch arm, away from Buck.
"You weren't…you weren't talking about your mom?" Buck stutters, quiet.
"My mom?" Chris flashes his eyes at Buck. "My parents weren't divorced, Buck. Yeah, they were separated for a while, but she came back. Before…before…"
And Buck would never make Chris finish that sentence. It's a hell of a sentence to say about a mom you love. He tries to cast his mind out to think about if it were Margaret, how he'd feel if she were to die, and he can't seem to find it in him to feel that sad about it. It's the same when he imagines Phillip, especially after the whole "we were terrible parents" comment. That had gone over super well with Buck's therapist.
"Right, Chris, right. Yeah."
So, Eddie never told Chris that Shannon had asked for a divorce before she died. Good to have that information, because Buck will not be the one to reveal it.
Eddie's only just gotten Chris back, back settled and feeling mostly stable—minus the Abigail stuff, of course—so Buck really doesn't need to shatter that by showing Chris that his dad had lied about one more thing. Not a good look.
"I just—" Chris tries, but he can't seem to form the words.
They let the silence lapse between them. It lasts maybe a minute before Chris tries again.
"I wish you and Dad would talk more. I wish you came around more. I don't know what he did, but…it feels like you're divorced."
Buck chokes on that, the implication staggering. He hears Maddie's stupid words, words he can't ever truly let go of, bounce in his brain.
It wouldn't be so crazy.
"We'd have to have been together first to be divorced," Buck laughs, sounding hollow even to his ears.
"Then why does it feel like it? Can I just apologize for him? Can you pretend that whatever he did, it's fine and just come back?"
Buck's chest is aching. Fuck. When Eddie asked him to pick up Chris this morning, he never expected this. He didn't expect he was hurting this kind so much.
"Chris," he says slowly, feeling his eyes get glassy and his throat thick. "Your dad didn't do anything. Things are just…different now, okay?"
"Can they stop being different? I don't like it. I liked it better when you lived here."
Chris is just hitting him with blow after blow to the chest, all without touching him.
"Uh, sometimes, things change, Chris. Sometimes, things just get complicated. Messy. Feelings…are hard. And people just need space. I'm…going through some things, and I'll come out okay on the other side, but I need some time."
Chris peers at him, silent. "Is it Bobby?"
Buck's been thinking a lot about Bobby lately. He's cried some. He's been angry. He's gone through different bargaining. All in the span of a few days, brought on by the games and Bobby's shadow looming over all of it.
"That's certainly part of it," Buck concedes.
It isn't untrue. It's just not the whole truth. But Buck is just Chris's dad's weird friend. It's okay if he lies by omission, because he's not Chris's dad. Chris isn't going to run off to Texas because he caught Buck making out with a woman who looks like his mom. That isn't going to happen, one, but two, Buck has no bearing on Chris's life. He especially doesn't need to know about…
"What else, then?" Chris narrows down on things, gets right to the point.
Chris is telling him, in no uncertain terms, that time is of the essence. That Buck is going to spit it out, or there will be repercussions.
"Look," Buck says, taking a deep breath. He's not going to be specific. Just the brief rundown. "Sometimes, how we feel about other people is complicated and it makes things difficult," he says, hoping that at all makes sense and no more questions are asked. "Sometimes, those feelings aren't really wanted or needed and people need space. Good friends will be all right and will work around and through it. Me and your dad, we'll work through it, okay?"
Chris is staring at him. Kind of like he's stupid.
"Buck…you know he loves you, right?" Chris says, matter of fact.
"Yeah," Buck agrees, his chest cracking open, "I know. We're family. Family loves each other."
Chris shakes his head, gestures between himself and Buck. "You and I, we're family. Dad loves you…like that but more."
"Chris," Buck deflates. "I don't think you know what I mean. I'm sor—"
His apology is cut off by Chris's shout.
"No!" The kid looks angry now.
"Chris, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I should probably go."
"Stay," Chris points at him, demands.
"I…" Buck tries, but Chris's look is sharp, brokering no room for argument. "Right okay."
"We can have dinner," Chris suggests. "You can pick a movie. Like old times."
"Yeah, that sounds nice," Buck agrees.
This appeases Chris. They hang out for a bit, then finally have dinner that Buck cooks from stuff already in the house. And then, they put on a movie. One of the Sonic ones. It does feel nice, easy.
He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep on the couch until Eddie wakes him with a gentle shake. It doesn't stop Buck from jerking awake anyway.
"Chris?" Buck croaks, craning his head around to look for the kid.
"He's asleep in his room," Eddie says, voice low and warm.
It's a voice Buck loves.
Buck nods. "Guess I'd better head home then."
Eddie shakes his head. "It's almost 3 AM. Stay."
That single word pierces through him.
"No, Eds, it's fine. I'm good to drive."
"Nope," Eddie insists. "Come on. We can share the bed."
Buck tries to protest, but doesn't get more than a single syllable out before Eddie's bodily hauling him to the bedroom. He goes, because Eddie told him to.
Eddie gives him loose clothes to put on, and Buck is so tired he just does it, no argument. And they climb into bed without more discussion of it. It feels so easy, thoughtless, like breathing.
"You never told Chris that Shannon asked you for a divorce," Buck says stupidly, tiredly, without thinking.
Eddie tenses in the bed next to him where he's laying on his back. They are not touching. "How do you know that?" Eddie's voice is gruff.
"We talked," Buck admits. "I didn't tell him either. It's not my place. You know, I'm just your weird friend who's around too often."
"You're not around enough," Eddie argues. "And you're not just my weird friend."
Buck snorts, even with his eyes closed and sleep pulling at him. "Still."
"Well, thanks for not telling him. I guess I owe him that truth. He was just…so young when it happened and the time just never felt right. But maybe he's thinking about it now because of your parents."
"He started the conversation," Buck admits, flipping from facing away from Eddie to laying on his back too. They are not touching. "But when he said that thing he said about it being hard on the kids, it wasn't about you and Shannon."
"It wasn't?" Eddie rolls to face him, the mattress protesting under his weight, and his hand brushing Buck's shoulder.
Buck can't bear to find his face, even in the dark. He shakes his head, knowing Eddie will see it.
"He said it was about you and me. He said it felt like we were divorced, and he wanted to apologize for whatever you did."
"Why would he just decide I did something?" Eddie mutters incredulously.
Buck shrugs. "You're his dad, I guess."
"Buck," Eddie growls, sounding frustrated. Why are these Diaz boys so frustrated with him? "Can you stop minimizing your role in his life? In our lives? In my life?"
He doesn't know what to say to that. "But I…" he tries anyway.
"You're making me crazy!" Eddie whisper shouts. "Please, Buck, just—" but Eddie doesn't finish his sentence.
"I'm sorry?" Buck apologizes even if he doesn't really know what he's apologizing for.
"I feel like we're divorced," Eddie finally breathes out. "I feel like I did something wrong, and it scared you away and now I'm just sharing custody with you."
"We'd have to have been together to be divorced," Buck tries to joke again, echoing what he said to Chris earlier. It wasn't funny then, and it's especially not funny now. It lands flat and wrong.
"Do you want to be?" Eddie asks, small, vulnerable, the words almost lost in the night.
"Divorced?" Buck asks, startled.
"Together," Eddie clarifies.
"Did Chris talk to you?" Buck asks instead of answering Eddie's insane question.
"No. Not since you guys put on the Sonic movie earlier. He texted me about it, but that was it. Nothing substantial."
"Huh, okay," Buck says, about to roll back over, away from Eddie, away from this conversation.
Eddie's hand catches his arm. "That doesn't answer my question."
"What question?" Buck asks sleepily, like he doesn't know. He yawns.
"Do you want…do you want to be together?" Eddie tries again.
This time, Buck has to look at Eddie. He has to see what's on his face, what he means. Because he can't mean what Buck thinks he means.
"We are together. We're together right now," Buck says, deflecting even in the face of Eddie's beautiful brown eyes on him, so earnest and vulnerable.
"So, you don't want to be with me?" Eddie is doing his best not to sound heartbroken. Buck knows what that sounds like. It breaks Buck's heart in turn.
"What? Eddie, are you crazy? Anyone would be lucky to be with you. Seriously. Don't be like that. You'll…you'll find an amazing woman one day."
"I'm not just asking anyone. I'm asking you. I don't want some woman. I want you."
"Why me?" Buck asks stupidly, out of all the things he could latch on to or take umbrage with.
"Because we're already 90% there. We just need to let ourselves be taken care of by the other person, to just be loved and held."
"We don't have to do a marriage of convenience, Eddie." Buck rolls his eyes, because it's safer than being earnest with Eddie in this delicate moment where Eddie is facing him and Buck is facing the ceiling. "We can just be friends. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
"Well," Eddie scooches closer, his body like a furnace under the blankets. "What if I don't want to be friends?"
"You don't want to be friends with me?" Buck's sleep-addled brain makes him ask, makes his throat close and worry he's losing the best thing that ever happened to him.
"I…I," Eddie starts, "I want to be friends and more. I want to love you. I want to show you, physically, how much I love you."
That sends shivers up and down Buck's spine.
"You love me?" He tries to clarify. "Physically?"
"Yeah, I love you. I'm in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Buck can't conceive of the information that's just been fed to his brain. "You told this to Chris already?"
"No secrets," Eddie just shrugs. "At least, not anymore. I needed to know he was okay if I went forward with you."
"Eddie, what do you mean? Physically? You're not…attracted me. Why would you do that to yourself?"
Eddie's hand finds Buck's opposite hip bone and physically rolls Buck onto his side so they're face to face, front to front.
"Do you feel me?"
And wow, yeah, Buck feels him. Woah.
"I need you to hear these words, okay?" Eddie tries to confirm.
Buck swallows, nods.
"I am romantically and physically attracted to you. Whatever denials you're trying to run through that loud head of yours, stop it. This is it for me. Nothing in my whole life has ever felt more right. But I need to know if you feel the same. I'll be okay, if not. I'll live. We can still be in each other's lives. I don't want you to leave, but I'll give you the space you need to figure out how to be around me if that's what you need, okay?"
"But…the games…" Buck tries, a weak excuse at best.
Eddie's eyes slip closed, and he lets out a dry little laugh.
"That's what you're worried about? The firefighter games? You think we can't compete if we're in a relationship?"
That hits Buck square in the chest. Relationship. It's not like he didn't already have a relationship with Eddie. A strong one. One that Bobby even believed in before Eddie came back. Does everyone else see this? Does everyone look at Buck and Eddie and think one day, if they aren't already, they will be together romantically?
"Do you think…do you think Bobby knew about us? Not that we were secretly together. Just, like, that maybe one day we would be?" Buck asks, because that's where his brain is. "Like, an inevitability?"
Eddie is so soft when we looks at Buck, when he speaks. Buck loves his voice, loves his cadance, loves his timber. And when Eddie speaks like that and he's pressed against Buck in bed, Buck can't help but react bodily too.
"Yeah, Buck. I think maybe he did. He brought us together, brought me to you. He saw something in both of us."
"It feels a little like fate," Buck admits, finally, tentatively allowing a hand to reach out and land on Eddie's chest, feel his heartbeat thunderous and alive beneath his fingers.
"Does that mean you want to be with me?" Eddie's tender voice has a hopeful lilt beneath it.
"Yeah, Eddie. Body, mind, and soul. I'm yours. I think I always have been."
As the words slip out, the veracity of them is overwhelming. He's always belonged to Eddie, to Chris, to this family.
"Will Chris—will Chris be happy that we're together?" Because that's a worry too. He can't say yes to this if it will make Chris unhappy, though from their earlier talk, he thinks he already knows the answer.
"You tell me," Eddie snorts. "Sounds like he all but begged you to be his stepdad while I was at work."
Stepdad. Stepdad. Dad.
"Oh," Buck says, his fingers clenching in Eddie's soft sleep shirt. "Yeah, I guess he kind of did. In a way."
"He just told me, his words not mine, to 'not fuck it up.'"
Buck can't help the laugh that startles out of him at that. "Yeah, sounds about right."
"So, are we—are we doing this? For real?" Eddie clarifies, his hand still on Buck's hip squeezing once reassuringly.
"Uh, I guess I'm out of excuses not to. Namely the one where you're straight?"
Eddie bursts into laughter before he remembers himself and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Has that been keeping you…being with me? You wanted to but stopped yourself?"
Buck lets himself think about that. The honest answer—it wouldn't be so crazy—is yes. That he had his feelings pointed out to his face several times, and instead of taking them head on, he shoved them down with the rest of his grief: grief about Chris leaving, grief about Eddie leaving, grief about Bobby dying, grief about Chris and Eddie coming home. It all made the other thing feel less important. But here they are now, and nothing else is standing in their way.
"Yeah, I guess so," Buck admits, almost a whisper.
"You guess so?" Eddie chuckles.
"Yeah. I don't think I let myself think about it in any meaningful way. But, yeah. I think so."
Eddie nods. "Okay," he says, letting it hang for a few seconds before he speaks again. "Can I kiss you now?"
Buck's idiot brain wants to argue more, make more excuses, put up more walls. But instead, he just closes his mouth and nods.
Eddie pulls him in just a little closer, not an inch of space between them, and kisses Buck soft and unhurried, a man who knows they have the rest of their lives ahead of them. There isn't even any tongue, just a gentle and dry press of lips together.
When Eddie pulls back, Buck's dazed, caught in a love spell. "For the record," he starts, "I love you, too."
Eddie chuckles. "Good. Now, it's probably about 4 AM. Can we get some sleep?"
"Yeah, yeah. Of course."
"Big spoon or little spoon?" Eddie smirks, the first test of their relationship.
"Big," Buck admits, hoping it's the right choice.
"Perfect," Eddie says, rolling to put his back to Buck's chest.
They both drop off to sleep in minutes.