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The very first time Evan Buckley saw the guy, he was standing in the middle of an active gas leak, wearing sunglasses indoors and holding an iced coffee roughly the size of a toddler. 

Which already felt illegal for some reason. 

Everyone else involved in the apartment fire was gathered safely behind the police barricade while the 118 unloaded equipment from the engine. Two or three officers stood at the barricade, blocking the panicked victims screaming about possessions, and one was crying about a cat named Oliver. Right in the middle of the chaos, hands on the metal barricades but not behind it, was this guy. 

Just… standing there… vibing… and being far too unsettling if the hairs on the back of Buck’s neck were anything to go by. 

“Sir,” Buck called, pulling his gloves on, “you need to move back behind the barricade. 

The guy, seemingly surprised someone dared to request he move, pointed to himself. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

Instead of moving, the guy looked weirdly… flattered…?

“Oh,” he said, a slow grin crawling onto his lips. “I like your tone.”

Buck blinked. 

Coming up beside him, Eddie snorted softly while slamming the truck compartment shut. 

And okay, maybe Buck was already off his game a little because the sound hit him square in his sternum. 

The stranger’s head whipped toward Eddie so fast it genuinely looked painful. 

“Oh,” the guy breathed again, except this time, it sounded borderline spiritual. 

Buck’s frown deepened. 

The man lowered his coffee cup in slow motion, openly ogling Eddie while he adjusted his gloves and headed toward the apartment building side by side with Hen. 

“Cap said second floor,” Eddie called over his shoulder. “Laundry room’s probably where the fire started.”

“Copy.”

The weird guy was still staring, watching Eddie disappear into the smoke. 

Not normal-person staring either. 

He was staring like he was fully tracking Eddie’s movement with the intensity of a man watching the opening scenes of a romance movie when the love interest has just been introduced. 

Buck stepped into his line of sight, blocking part of the view. 

The guy had the audacity to look offended, and, for some reason, that made Buck’s jaw tighten even more. 

“Sir,” Buck repeated, flatter now, “behind the barricade.”

Out of his peripheral view, he noted a patrol officer coming up beside them and caught his sigh. The sigh of a man who had seen terrible, irreversible things. 

“It’s no use,” he muttered. 

Buck glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “What does that mean?”

Before the officer could answer, the stranger stuck his hand out dramatically. 

“Rodge Bronson,” he announced. 

The name meant… absolutely nothing to Buck.

Apparently, Eddie, reappearing from the building carrying a wriggling and hissing orange cat, Oliver, raised an eyebrow in Buck’s direction, evidently catching the name. Do we know him?

Buck shrugged once, and Rodge looked… devastated. 

“You’ve never heard of me?”

“No,” Buck said. 

“God, I wish that were me,” the patrol officer muttered. 

Then, from farther down the sidewalk:

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Buck turned toward the new, vaguely familiar voice. 

Two more LAPD officers were heading toward the scene. One was older, built sturdy, wearing the calm-but-tired expression of someone who had absolutely dealt with this before. Beside him walked a woman wearing sergeant stripes and the kind of expression that said she was enjoying this entirely too much. 

The second she spotted Rodge, she started laughing. 

“No way,” she giggled. 

The older officer sighed heavily and set his sights on the strange man. “What are you doing here?”

Rodge brightened. “Officer Nolan!”

Oh.

Buck actually knew that name. 

Not personally, but between Athena, dispatch stories from Maddie and Josh, and Chimney collecting weird emergency gossip like a hobby, Buck had definitely heard about Officer John Nolan before. Mid-Wilshire. P3. Training officer. Apparently a magnet for bizarre situations. 

Which meant the sergeant next to him had to be Lucy Chen. 

“Why,” Nolan asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you at another active emergency scene?”

“I’m networking,” Rodge shrugged like it was the most obvious answer. 

Buck stared at him. 

Lucy’s eyes drifted toward the apartment entrance just in time to catch Eddie disappearing inside for a second time. 

She looked back at Rodge who was still, somehow, tracking Eddie. 

“Oh no,” she whispered. 

“Oh no what?” Nolan demanded. 

Rodge pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. 

“That firefighter–”

“No,” Nolan cut him off instantly. 

“--looked like he rescues people in slow motion.”

Buck narrowed his eyes. 

From somewhere beside him, Chimney made a choking noise that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter. 

Rodge continued, fully sincere. “His jacket said Diaz. Do you think he works out specifically to intimidate civilians?”

“What?” Buck’s eye twitched. 

“Those arms were medically concerning.”

“What?” Buck demanded again. 

Lucy outright doubled over with laughter. 

Nolan’s fingers tried to permanently glue themselves to the bridge of his nose. “Rodge, you cannot keep objectifying first responders.”

“But this one looked handcrafted!”

Something hot and irrational twitched deep in Buck’s stomach. 

Which was stupid. 

Objectively stupid. 

Eddie was attractive. Anyone with eyes could see that. People flirted with him literally all the time. This shouldn’t feel any different than the dozens of people who’d hit on Eddie over the years. 

Except somehow–

It did. 

And Buck already hated this guy. 

Unfortunately, hating Rodge Bronson did not make him leave. 

If anything, he seemed to settle in deeper. 

Like a parasite. 

Or mold. Black, horrible mold. 

Or whatever disease made people say things like those arms were medically concerning out loud in public. 

Buck was still glaring when Eddie reappeared again, this time without a cat and with soot streaked faintly across one cheekbone. 

Rodge visibly stopped breathing. 

“Oh, come on,” Nolan muttered. 

Eddie looked between all of them slowly. “Why does it feel like I’m missing something?”

“Nothing,” Buck answered immediately. 

At the exact same time, Lucy said, “Rodge seems to be obsessed with you. 

Buck whipped around. “Lucy!”

“What?” she laughed. “He is!”

“I would’t say obsessed,” Rodge argued, still openly staring at Eddie. “Captivated, maybe.”

Eddie blinked. 

Hen walked out behind him carrying a crate of supplies from the building and took one look at Buck’s face. 

“Oh, this is already bad,” she sighed. 

Buck scowled. “Why is everyone acting like I’m the problem?”

Chimney snorted disrespectfully.

Eddie, meanwhile, still looked mostly confused. 

“Okay,” he said slowly, pointing vaguely between Rodge and the LAPD officers. “Who is this?”

“Rodge Bronson,” Rodge said, like that explained literally everything. 

Eddie waited. 

Nothing else came. 

“...Okay?”

Lucy guffawed with a loud croak. 

Nolan looked even more tired. “Trust me, that’s the correct reaction.”

Ignoring him entirely, Rodge still only seemed to have eyes for Eddie, gazing at him with terrifying intensity. 

“You carry civilians out of buildings like it’s emotionally significant.”

Buck’s jaw clenched. 

Eddie looked genuinely alarmed now, though still incredibly confused. “I’m sorry?”

“And the shoulders thing,” Rodge continued. “Crazy work.”

“Oh my God,” Buck muttered. 

Hen chose that moment to outright walk away, cackling as she stepped away. 

Eddie finally turned toward Buck like maybe he could explain what the hell was going on. 

Unfortunately for him, Buck was too busy trying not to commit a felony. 

“He’s weird,” he answered flatly, finally. 

“I’m artistic,” Rodge corrected. 

“You’re standing thirty feet away from a burning building talking about Eddie’s shoulders.”

“They’re noteworthy shoulders.”

Eddie made the mistake of snorting and Buck felt it like physical betrayal. 

Lucy seemed to notice that too because, apparently, all sergeants noticed absolutely everything. Buck could practically see the realization forming behind her eyes in real time, and whatever conclusion she was coming to was apparently hysterical.

She leaned closer to Nolan and whispered something Buck couldn’t hear. 

Nolan glanced at Buck. 

Then at Eddie. 

Then back at Buck.

And oh, absolutely not. Cops and their stupid perceptions and foresight.

He pointed a warning finger at them immediately. “Dont.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Nolan argued, but Buck could see the faint outline of a smirk. 

Before Buck could defend himself from accusations nobody had even made yet, at least verbally, Bobby stepped out of the apartment building, pulling off his helmet. 

“Buck,” he called, “do you mind continuing to help LAPD keep people back while maintenance checks the line? We don’t need anyone wandering back inside yet.”

At least he had a reason to be standing here trying to get this Rodge person to stop oggling Eddie like a piece of meet. 

“No problem, cap,” Buck answered quickly. 

Bobby’s eyes drifted over the group for one long second. 

The laughing officers. 

Rodge still staring at Eddie like he’d descended from Heaven. 

Buck standing there between Eddie and Rodge like a body guard. 

Bobby’s eye’s swept back to Eddie. 

“You have soot on your face.”

Eddie blinked, immediately wiping at the wrong cheek. 

“No, the other—” 

Buck’s feet moved on their own accord. He’d claim later that they grew minds of their own. 

One second, he was standing between Eddie and Rodge. The next, he’s in Eddie’s personal space, hand raised to brush the soot from Eddie’s cheek and Eddie, perhaps also entranced by feet that had grown their own minds, turned toward him. 

Warm skin brushed beneath his fingertips. Oily, sticky soot clinging to sweat beneath his thumb. Brown eyes fixed on his. Buck’s stomach swooped deeply as his thumb gathered the soot. 

“There,” he muttered, stepping back quickly. 

Unfortunately, however, he stepped back directly into Rodge’s immediate line of sight and the man looked like he’d just witnessed a dramatic confession in the latest rom-com. 

“Oh,” he whispered. 

Buck turned to him, narrowing his eyes, daring him to speak.

“That was intimate,” he gasped, almost scandelized. 

“It was soot.”

Lucy made a strangled noise deep in her throat. Nolan looked one inconvenience away from early retirement. 

Somehow, Eddie still looked confused. 

Or… uncertain. 

Like he was starting to realize there was something peculiar happening around him but still hadn’t put the pieces together yet. 

Bobby mercifully stepped back into the fray before Buck could spiral himself into another dimension. 

“Officer Nolan,” he greeted with the familiarity of two people who’d definitely crossed paths. “Sergeant Chen.”

They both nodded to him with respectful nods and small smiles. 

Rodge looked between them and thank God his attention was off Eddie. 

“You know each other?”

“First responders tend to run into one another,” Nolan deadpanned. 

“That’s beautiful.”

“It’s paperwork.”

Rodge ignored him now and settled his sights back on Eddie. Buck’s jaw clenched. Why did it feel like he was about to growl like some kind of animal?

“So what exactly do you do?”

Eddie blinked. “Uh… I’m a firefighter paramedic.”

“No, but like… emotionally.”

There was a beat of silence followed by Chimney folding in on himself, laughing. Hen was definitely pretending not to enjoy this. Even Bobby’s mouth twitched slightly. 

Eddie looked genuinely concerned now. “Are you okay?”

Rodge pointed at him dramatically, like his point had just been proven for him. “See? Compassionate!”

Buck’s molars creaked. 

But the absolute worst part was… Eddie looked amused now. 

Like this bizarre civilian openly evaluating his personality in the middle of a fire scene was somehow entertaining. 

Buck did not find it entertaining. At all. Especially not when Rodge tilted his head thoughtfully and said, very sincerely:

“You look like you give piggyback rides to children during evacuations.”

Eddie frowned slightly. “I mean… sometimes? Buck does too though…”

“Oh my God,” Rodge breathed, clutching his chest like a damsel. 

Buck’s hatred for this men grew with the force of a thousand suns. 

Lucy outright lost it. 

“Oh, he’s so done for,” she wheezed, grabbing onto Nolan’s arm for balance. 

Buck frowned immediately. “Who?”

Neither of them answered. Which somehow felt worse. 

Meanwhile, Rodge looked emotionally overwhelmed by the revolation that Buck also apparently participated in child evacuation piggyback rides. 

“You save children together?” he whispered. 

“Oh my God,” Buck muttered, dragging a hand down his face. 

Eddie arched an eyebrow. 

“Uh… we are both firefighters.”

Nolan stepped in then, grabbing Rodge lightly by the elbow before the man could say anything even more insane. 

“Okay,” he said firmly, beginning to steer him away from the barricade entirely. “We’re leaving the firefighters alone now.”

“But I haven’t asked if Diaz—”

“Nope.”

“— has naturally sad eyes or if that’s environmental—”

“Nope.”

“— or if Buckley’s always standing that close to him—”

“Absolutelty not.”

Lucy was still laughing as she followed after them. “It was nice meeting you guys!” she waved. 

Buck glared after them all. 

Rodge twisted around while Nolan physically dragged him backward down the sidewalk. 

Then, somehow, impossibly, he pointed directly at Eddie and shouted: 

“You have the energy of a divorced action hero!”

Eddie looked genuinely startled. “I don’t even know what that means!”

“It means he’s obsessed with you!” Lucy yelled back helpfully. 

“Lucy,” Nolan groaned. 

Buck watched as they finally disappeared around the corner and silence settled over then scene. 

Silence disturbed by Chimney snorting and Buck glaring back at him. “Don’t.”

“You stepped into his line of sight like an attack dog!”

“He was being weird!”

“You wiped soot off Eddie’s face,” Hen added. 

“It was soot.”

Bobby wisely chose not to involve himself, already turning back toward the apartment building to check in with maintenance. 

Eddie, unfortunately, was still looking at Buck with that same strange, uncertain expression. 

“... Was that guy flirting with me?”

Buck scoffed. “Obviously.”

Eddie blinked. “You sounded offended by that.”

“I was offended by him.”

“Uh huh,” Hen hummed helpfully. 

Buck glared at her too. 

Eddie’s mouth twitched slightly, like he was trying hard not to smile. 

And somehow, absurdly, that annoyed Buck almost more than Rodge had. 

For a few glorious weeks, life returned to normal. Or at least as normal as life could possibly be for the 118.

There were apartment fires and car accidents and one deeply unfortunate incident involving a man, a trampoline, and an ostrich. Chimney caught the flu and became the single most pathetic petri dish for four days. Ravi accidentally started a debate at shift dinner about whether cereal counted as a soup. Buck and Eddie fell back into their typical rhythm so naturally that eventually Hen stopped making pointed humming noises every time Buck stood a little too close. 

Most importantly, however, their world did not include Rodge Bronson, in any shape, form, or capacity. 

They had forgotten about him so completely that Buck had started thinking that whole experience had been just some insanely weird fever dream brought on by more hallucinagins that somehow made everyone hallucinate the exact same thing.

Then, three weeks after the incident, the 118 got a called out for a grass fire. 

It was reported small by on-scene officers who simply didn’t have the proper equipment to deal with it, so Buck and Eddie were sent out alone while the rest of the shift resumed chores. When they got there, it was a patch of dry grass behind a suburban house that had caught fire after someone tried to incorrectly dispose of charcoal in the dumbest way possible. The flames had spread to a tree before it’d been called in. 

Rolling up, Buck hopped down from the truck and immediately recognized the patrol unit parked near the curb. 

“Oh no,” he muttered. 

Beside him, Eddie frowned. “What?”

Buck only pointed. 

Near the front yard stood John Nolan and a younger officer Buck didn’t recognize, both talking to a frantic homeowner while smoke curled from the backyard. Nolan spotted Buck at almost the exact same moment and seemed to visibly age ten years. 

“Great,” he muttered up into the sky. 

Buck paused, staring at the man he barely knew. “What’s up with that reaction?”

Nolan simply pointed a warning finger at him. “If you hear music, grab your boy and leave immediately.”

Buck froze. “Huh?”

The younger officer beside Nolan looked exhausted already. “He’s been here all day.” 

From the backyard came the sound of someone yelling: 

“THE ART REQUIRES PASSION, NOLAN!”

Buck’s blood ran cold. 

“Oh no.”

Eddie, who was the only person doing their job, putting out the grass fire, looked up, confused. 

Then the garage door opened. Slowly. With such a flare a toddler would blush. 

Buck stared in horror as fake smoke billowed across the driveway. 

“Oh you have GOT to be kidding me,” Nolan groaned. 

As the garage door opened fully, Buck could now make out Rodge Bronson, standing in front of a microphone with a guitar and… apparently he had a band or fellow ‘drive Buck up the wall’ enthusiasts. 

Buck glared. Hard. But as Eddie circled back to him, already working to put the hose up, grass fire officially gone, Rodge’s eyes landed on Eddie and visibly lit up. 

“Oh,” Rodge called. “Diaz!”

Buck stepped in front of Eddie, but this time, Eddie noticed. And unfortunately, so did Nolan. 

“Oh, this is gonna be a whole thing,” Nolan muttered. 

The keyboard and bass guitar began strumming out a few notes, and then Rodge stepped into the microphone, and began singing. 

🎵
There’s a firefighter walking through LA
tight navy shirt and a jawline craze
Name says Diaz, arms like steel
man looks fake but apparently real

Big strong hands and a firefighter strut
everybody staring at that—

DIAZ!
Firefighter man Diaz!
DIAZ!
Built like he was drawn by those single moms!

Sleeves rolled up and the engine stops
that dude definitely does push-ups!
🎵 

 

Buck’s mouth was hanging open like a broken hinge by the time Nolan got to the garage door that was shutting the closer he got. Buck’s soul felt like it’d left his body. And he didn’t remember being tugged back into the firetruck and away from the location just as fast as he and Eddie could go.

The drive back to the station was silent. It wasn’t a normal or companionable silence. It was the silence reserved for near death experiences or deeply traumatic events that almost always led to a stern talking-to from an emotional Bobby, angry Eddie, and nurturing Hen. 

Buck wondered if this counted as deeply traumatic as he gripped the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

Sitting in the captain’s seat beside him, Eddie was gazing out the window with either a hint of a smirk or a grimace. Buck couldn’t tell from this angle. 

They got a little further away from the scene when a tiny huff of laughter filled the cab and Buck’s eyes snapped to his as he stopped for a red light. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Eddie snorted. 

“Thinking it is enough.”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully beside him, clearly enjoying himself now. He thought this whole situation was absurdly hysterical, which was just rude. 

“He had a smoke machine, Eddie.”

“Mhm.”

“And a band.”

“He did.”

“And he wrote you a whole song!”

Eddie curled his fingers into a fist and brought it to his mouth, guffawing into the fist while Buck glared at him in betrayal before accelerating through the light. 

It wasn’t until they were back to an LA acceptable speed that Buck glanced briefly over at him. 

“Oh my God,” he gasped as realization dawned on him. “You liked it!” he accused. 

“I did not,” Eddie disagreed. 

“You’re literally smiling!”

“I’m embarrassed,” Eddie corrected, though the corners of his mouth were still twitching traitorously. “There’s a difference.”

Buck scoffed. “You were smiling at him.”

“I was smiling at you.”

And if that didn’t make all the wheels in Buck’s brain screech to a halt. 

“What?”

Eddie turned in his seat slightly now, one elbow propped against the window as he looked at Buck with open amusement. 

“You keep stepping in between me and him, like you’re guarding me from a wild animal.”

“He is a wild animal!”

“Buck.”

“He wrote a song about your butt!”

“He did not write a song about my ass.”

“He IMPLIED it.”

Eddie outright laughed this time. Warm and soft and helpless enough that Buck’s stomach swooped again, annoyingly. 

“You really should’ve seen your face,” Eddie said, still grinning. “The second he looked at me, you were suddenly standing there like a guard dog.”

Buck frowned harder, because Eddie saying it out loud somehow made him feel weirdly exposed. 

“I was not.”

“You literally moved in front of me.”

“He was being weird!”

“He was being weird at me, not you.”

“That’s worse!”

Eddie bit back another smile, clearly failing at taking this as seriously as he should be. 

Buck felt himself getting more defensive by the second, which only proved to amuse Eddie further. Actually…

Buck stopped at another traffic light and turned to look at his best friend. That wasn’t his amused expression. This one was… fond.

Oh, that was going to be a problem. 

Eddie was looking at him with that stupid soft expression he got sometimes; his warm brown eyes crinkling slightly at the corners while Buck was actively spiraling in the driver’s seat. 

His stomach was clenching oddly and… why was his heart accelerating? Was he having a heart attack? Induced by his best friend and a maniac?

This was deeply unfair.

“You’re pouting,” Eddie observed. 

“I’m driving.”

“You’re whining a little too,” Eddie added, ignoring him. 

Buck looked scandalized. “I am absolutely not whining.”

“Buck,” Eddie said patiently, in the same tone he used with nervous victims and Christopher. “You’re jealous of a man with a smoke machine.”

“I am not jealous,” Buck huffed. 

“Mhm.”

“He called you handcrafted.”

“That one was kinda funny.”

Buck made an offended noise.

Eddie laughed again, shaking his head. 

“You know,” he said casually, “I think Nolan was right.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed. “About what?”

“That this is becoming a whole thing.”

“It is not becoming a whole thing.”

Eddie’s smile turned downright dangerous then– small and knowing and entirely too pleased with himself. 

“Buck,” he spoke gently. “You practically dragged me back into the truck.”

“Because he was serenading you in a garage!”

“And?”

“And—”

Buck stopped. Because, annoyingly, Eddie was still looking at him with that dangerously warm smile. He was definitely having a heart attack. He should probably pull over… but… LA traffic…

“You’re impossible,” Buck muttered finally. 

Eddie’s grin softened into one more familiar. “Maybe, but you’re still the one that keeps putting yourself between me and him. 

Buck’s stomach swooped again because somehow, that sounded a lot less like teasing and a lot more like Eddie liked it. 

“Ed—”

“This is Captain Bobby Nash to Evan Buckley and Edmundo Diaz. Come in,” Bobby’s voice rang over the radio. 

Eddie grabbed the radio. 

“Yes Cap?”

“Are you two planning on bringing my engine back sometime today? I did not sanction LA tour excursions, and Buck got fired after he stole the engine the first time.”

Buck’s face turned scarlet and he swore he soul was going to leave his body any second now. He couldn’t risk looking over at Eddie, but if he had, he’d have noticed Eddie’s similarly colored face. 

“We’ll be there in five,” Eddie strained. 

There was silence the rest of the way. 

Another few weeks later, Rodge was once again all but forgotten. Especially today of all days. When the shift had been cursed from the start. Everyone was still glaring at Ravi every time they saw him. 

It was 8:12 am when Ravi Panikkar, probie no more, but now dead-to-them co-worker, was finishing his coffee in the kitchen, surrounded by blissfully peaceful and breakfast-filled firefighters, and uttered fighting words. 

“Wow. It’s been really quiet today.”

The entire room had frozen.

Hen slowly lowered her coffee cup to the table. Chimney looked like Ravi had just betrayed his ancestors, Bobby closed his eyes like a man preparing for devastating news. And Buck–

“You’ve just doomed us all,” he groaned. 

It was at this moment that Ravi knew, he fucked up. 

“I didn’t mean—”

“You said the Q-word. Outloud.”

“I forgot!”

“You can’t forget the Q-word!” Chimney hissed. 

Ravi glanced around desperately, seemingly trying to get assistance from Eddie, who was just lounging on the couch on his phone like their whole world hadn’t just imploded. 

“It’s not real,” he argued weakly. 

Three hours later, the station toilet exploded. Not clogged. Literally exploded! (‘Thanks again, Diaz,’ Chimney muttered.)

An hour after, they got called to a parking garage because a man had somehow superglued his hand to the roof of his own car. 

Then came the goose accident that nobody wanted to talk about or think about or remember, but every time someone looked at Chimney’s bruised cheek, they couldn’t help but remember. 

By the time the call for a ‘possible animal trapped inside residential walls’ came through from dispatch, Buck was exhausted in every way possible, but especially emotionally. 

“It’s gonna be rats,” Chimney predicted, pulling on his jacket anxiously. “It’s always rats.”

“It better not be rats,” Eddie muttered. “Last time, one jumped at my face.”

Buck looked over, alarmed. “I don’t remember that!”

“You were unconscious on my couch while I battled the rats my son ‘accidentally’ bred.”

“... Right.”

Eddie snorted quietly. 

And okay, maybe Buck’s stomach did that weird swooping thing every time Eddie laughed in his general vicinity now, but that was an entirely separate problem. He probably had Krohn’s or IBS or something completely un-Eddie related. 

When they pulled up to the house, it turned out to belong to an elderly woman named Mrs. Patterson, who greeted them on the porch in visible distress and so frantic Hen and Chimney were guiding her down to the ambulance to settle her before she gave herself a heart attack. 

“There’s scratching in the walls!” she wailed frantically. “And screaming!”

“Yeah… that’s probably not a rat,” Ravi offered helpfully. 

Hen sighed as the woman screeched in her ear and damn near toppled on top of Chimney in her haste to escape the house. 

“Thank you, Ravi,” Hen sighed, helping the woman get her footing again and settling her down in the ambulance. 

Buck and Eddie headed around the sides of the house while Ravi and Bobby grabbed some equipment. 

Immediately, they could detect scratching noises from somewhere near the garage. 

“Definately not rats,” Eddie observed. 

Something hissed from inside the wall. 

Buck physically recoiled. “Absolutely not.”

Eddie chuckled beside him.

The hissing grew louder. 

Then… music?

Buck stopped dead in his tracks. 

From inside the garage came the unmistakable sound of an electric keyboard followed by a bass guitar. Eddie’s eyes locked on the door. 

“No,” Buck hissed. 

From somewhere outside in the yard, John Nolan’s voice bellowed: 

“BRONSON!”

Buck closed his eyes.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!”

The garage door opened slowly, dramatically. 

“Oh my God,” Eddie muttered, already laughing hysterically. 

Fog rolled out. 

“WHY DO YOU HAVE ANOTHER SMOKE MACHINE?!” Nolan loudly demanded. 

He got no answer, because there was Rodge Bronson. Standing beside a keyboard player and wearing sunglasses indoors like the nuisance he was. 

“Welcome,” Rodge announced grandly into a ridiculously loud microphone. “This is a live artistic response to first responder emotional dynamics.”

“No,” was the only word out of Buck’s mouth. 

Rodge ignored him completed. Because of course he did. And once again, his eyes landed on Eddie’s and fucking softened!

Then they drifted toward Buck standing far too close to the man beside him. 

“Oh!” Rodge whispered dramatically into the microphone. “The lore has deepend!”

Dread settled deep into the pit of Buck’s stupidly swooping stomach and the keyboard started playing against his will. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eddie’s lips fold together as his shoulders began shaking. 

“Stop encouraging him,” Buck hissed. 

‘I’m not doing anything,” Eddie argued. 

Then Rodge started singing. 

🎵
Buckley standing way too near
every time Diaz appears
Crossed arms, glaring eyes
man looks one joke from homicide

Tracks Diaz around the scene
tall blond dude acts real mean
Steps between him constantly
like he’s guarding national security—

DIAZ!
Firefighter man Diaz!

BUCKLEY!
Emotionally reacting fast!

One gets flustered
one acts tough
whole thing honestly says enough!
🎵

There was a beat of silence before they heard Chimney collapse against the ambulance in hysterical laughter and Buck stood frozen in pure horror. 

Eddie, however, made a fatal mistake. 

He laughed. Full-body, head-ducking, falling practically to his knees, helpless laughter. 

Buck slowly turned to him. 

“Oh, so this is funny to you?”

Eddie tried to answer and immediately laughed harder instead. Which honestly should be deemed disrespectful at this point. 

Rodge was looking between them dramatically. 

“The chemistry here is becoming textually undeniable.”

“I’m gonna fight him,” Buck groaned. 

“Says the guy who doesn’t have a history with illegal fight clubs,” Hen muttered, coming up behind them to drag them away. 

Before Buck could actually decide whether to throw away his good name and murder the shit out of Rodge Bronson, something inside the wall shrieked, and suddenly, they were reminded as to why they were here in the first place. 

Then came a violent scratching followed by an aggressive THUD from somewhere inside the garage wall. 

Mrs. Patterson’s scream from inside the ambulance was shrill and loud. 

“Okay, that’s either a raccoon or a poltergeist and those don’t exist.”

Another shriek echoed throughout the garage. 

“See what happens when you say the Q-word, Ravi!” Buck snapped. “We get to deal with a poltergeist!”

Ravi shrank back. “It probably isn’t a poltergeist,” he muttered weakly. 

The wall rattled ominously and Buck was ready to suggest they all adding pounds of salt and holy water to their gear stashes when the drywall exploded outward. Buck had just enough time to register the grey and black streaked fur, the claws, and the pure, unadulterated hatred before a raccoon launched itself out of the wall like a tiny furry missile. 

Mrs. Patterson screamed before she fainted. Chimney screamed louder, damn near climbing Bobby. 

The raccoon, in all its terror-filled dexterity, landed straight onto none other than Rodge Bronson. 

Chaos erupted around the room. 

“Oh my GOD!” Rodge shrieked. 

The microphone wailed violently as it was knocked over, landing on the ground with a hard THUNK followed by horrendous screeching in the amplifiers that was so high pitched it was making Buck’s teeth hurt. It also made the raccoon even angrier. 

Smoke continued to billow around them from the fog machine and the band around Rodge abandoned him almost immediately. 

Somewhere, Nolan swore loudly and began trying to radio in for assistance except… there probably isn’t a code for ‘HELP!!! THERE’S AN ANGRY RACCOON ON MY ARCH NEMESIS!!!’

And through it all, Buck couldn’t help literally falling to his knees in front of Eddie, laughing hysterically and unfortunately, leaving Eddie undefended from furry and human fiends. 

Rodge, still in a fight for his life against probably the angriest raccoon in California, began rapidly motioning for Eddie. 

“DIAZ!” he wailed desperately. “I NEED HELP AND EMOTIONAL SUPPORT!”

The raccoon hissed directly in Rodge’s face as Buck stopped laughing and Eddie, who seemed to lose all sense of self-preservation, and enough respect for Buck to not help his arch nemesis, stepped forward to help the situation. 

Getting angry raccoon’s off of idiotic people that were a thorn in Buck’s backside was not a firefighter’s job!

He wished it was a poltergeist. 

“Okay, okay, hey buddy—” Eddie approached carefully. 

The raccoon, who didn’t seem to care for his tone, lunged, and suddenly, Buck was off his knees and barreling into Eddie, tackling him down hard, and landing on top of him. Their chests were pressed together when Buck finally realized what he’d just done. 

“You are not touching rabies claws,” was all Buck could think to say. 

All Eddie could do was look up at Buck and there it was again. Soft brown eyes coated in that stupid soft, fond look that made Buck’s stomach swoop so hard he wondered if he hadn’t trapped the raccoon between them. 

Behind them, Rodge was recovering awfully fast from his raccoon attack. 

“Oh,” he whispered. “Protective instincts run strong with this one.”

Sergeant Tim Bradford was stomping on scene and caging a raccoon with some kind of food-related bait before Buck had a chance to get up off of Eddie. It wasn’t until they were both being examined by Hen in the ambulance that he realized it took well over ten minutes for Bradford to get there. 

In the ambulance, Hen was checking Eddie’s arm for scratches while Buck hovered nearby, absently watching and doing his best to avoid teasing glances from literally everyone on scene. 

“I’m fine,” Eddie said for what was probably the fifth time.

“You tackled him before he could get close,” Hen added, nodding to Eddie. No scratches. 

“He was about to touch a rabid raccoon!”

“We don’t know that it was rabid," Ravi offered. 

Which, true. But it could have been, and they still aren’t certain it wasn’t. Said raccoon was still caged in the garage and Rodge had been rushed in a separate ambulance to the hospital for a just-in-case rabies shot. 

“Did it catch the sleeve of your turnouts?”

“Buck.”

“It could’ve torn the sleeve.”

“Buck.”

“I’m just saying—”

“You’re hovering,” Eddie informed, visibly amused, but also firm. 

“I am not.”

“You tackled me onto the dirty floor of a concrete garage.”

“To save your life!” Buck defended. 

“It was a raccoon.”

“That had murder in its eyes!”

Eddie just laughed, shaking his head. And, because the universe decided a potentially rabid raccoon wasn’t enough from the curse, that fond look settled back on Eddie’s features and Buck’s stomach gave a hard swoop. Eddie’s eyes seemed to glisten with affection that made Buck’s heart flutter. 

Nearby, Tim Bradford walked past the open doors of the ambulance, carrying the raccoon cage. Buck could make out him telling Bobby that they were taking it to an emergency animal hospital that specialized in wild animals.

Bradford glanced into the ambulance and paused, eyes caught on Eddie, then on Buck practically folded into Eddie’s personal space. Which, it was an ambulance, but that didn’t mean that Buck was forced to practically be in Eddie’s lap at this point. 

“You two look cozy,” he commented. “I guess if some random dude started writing songs about my girlfriend, I’d probably be pretty protective too.”

All of the air in Buck’s lungs seemed to abandon him. 

“I–” he wheezed. 

Tim raised a brow, eyes cutting to Eddie. 

“That not your boyfriend?” he asked, eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. 

“Not currently.”

Buck choked, throat clenching around the zero air as his eyes widened so far he was surprised they didn’t fall out. 

Hen immediately buried her face in her shoulder to hide the laughter bubbling up and Buck looked back at her in betrayed horror. He was here dying and she was just laughing at him!

Bobby just sighed. Buck could practically see him scrubbing an annoyed hand down his face. 

“Let’s go, 118. We’ll pick up some cleansing sage or something on the way if we make it back to the station before—”

He seemed to tempt fate, because then, Maddie’s voice came over all of their radios, signaling them to another emergency. 

With collective groans, everyone prepared for the continuing curse, all glaring at Ravi as they passed. Well, all except Eddie, who still apparently thought this curse business was ridiculous. 

Two days later, Buck made a catastrophic mistake. He decided to visit Maddie at dispatch with a tray of muffins he’d made that morning. A sweet little treat that had absolutely nothing to do with the catastrophe that was his life after meeting Rodge Bronson. 

He really should have known better. 

The second the dispatch doors opened, he froze. 

From somewhere inside the room, there was an all too familiar tune playing, followed by:

🎵

Buckley standing way too near— 🎵 

No.

No, no, no.

This could not be happening!

His eyes snapped around the room, searching for the source of the music that would now haunt him for the rest of eternity and force him to never meet his sister's eyes ever again. 

To Buck’s horror, the music was coming from his traitorous sisters desk where Josh sat, holding his phone up like he was presenting evidence to a trial. Maddie herself, the traitor, was doubled over laughing. There was a small crowd around them. Sue had her glasses off and Linda looked moments from tears. And over the speaker’s of Josh’s evil device, came the stupid voice of Rodge Bronson. 

🎵 Crossed arms, glaring eyes

man looks one joke from homicide— 🎵 

Yep. Nope. He didn’t have to stand here and bear witness to his own demise. 

He spun around immediately, heading back out the half-open glass doors, but he hadn’t moved fast enough. 

“BUCK!” his evil, evil sister yelled. 

Buck had never seen so many dispatch eyes cast on him at the same time. He shrank away from the attention, shutting his eyes and huffing out in irritation mixed with embarrassment and humiliation. 

“I hate everyone,” he mumbled. 

As he opened his eyes, he was met with Josh, looking far too excited. “It’s catchy!” 

“No it isn’t!” Buck snapped. 

Maddie was still laughing hard enough to crack a rib. “Athena sent it to me at six this morning.”

“No! Not Athena! No!”

Josh howled. Linda lost her battle with the threatening tears. And through it all, the song continued. 

🎵 Steps between him constantly

like he’s guarding national security— 🎵 

Buck made a wounded noise deep in his throat, desperate for someone to just turn it the fuck off! The universe did not take pity on him. 

“It’s not even accurate!”

And suddenly, it felt like every eyebrow on the floor raised, just to taunt him with his own lie. 

“... Okay, maybe it’s a tiny bit accurate,” he mumbled. 

Josh let out a cackled croak. 

“There’s even a video of you tackling Eddie to the ground over a raccoon!” Maddie giggled.

“To stop him from getting rabies!”

“From a raccoon that didn’t have rabies,” Sue snorted. 

“We didn’t know that and that thing was evil!”

“I just can’t believe you actually physically launched yourself at him like you were about to take a bullet for him.”

Buck crossed his arms defensively. “It wasn’t that big of a deal! And besides, it got him away from the other nuisance.”

Maddie and Josh shared a look Buck didn’t like. 

“Buck… are you telling us you were actually protecting Eddie from… Rodge?”

Buck’s cheeks flushed and he ducked his head to hide it, but he wasn’t quick enough. 

“Oh my God! You were! The 19 pound trash panda was just an excuse!” Josh gaped. 

Buck huffed, grumbling to himself and stormed into the break room, carrying the tray of muffins like a shield. Maddie and Josh were following him, but everyone else seemed to be satisfied with the temporary distraction and turned back to monitoring active emergencies. Buck slammed the tray down on the table so hard the muffins shook. 

Josh opened his mouth again, undoubtedly to say something horrible and devastating and completely accurate. Maddie caught Buck’s face first. And because she’s Maddie, she saw beyond the blush and embarrassment and angry glare down at the muffins. She saw something he was trying to bury. Something agonizing crawling through his veins. 

Her smile faded. 

“Josh,” she said, all evidence of humor gone from her voice, and that’s likely what made Josh sober from the laughter. 

“What?” he asked. 

“Give us a minute?”

He looked between them, at Maddie’s serious face and Buck’s glare and his eyes softened. Because for all of his dramatics and bitchiness, he was not actually cruel. 

“Oh course,” he said. 

Then, because he was still Josh, he snagged a muffin on his way out and closed the breakroom door.

The shut door muffled the chaos of dispatch and the unfortunately still-playing video. 

For a moment, Buck just stood there, hands braced on the edge of the table. Maddie let him. Then she moved closer, slowly, easing into his space like he was a skittish animal. 

“Baby brother?” she asked. 

“I’m fine.”

“Mm,” she hummed. 

“I am.”

“Okay.”

He hated when she did that. She had a habit of doing it too. The not arguing. Not pushing. Not worming her way between his walls and forcing him to reveal himself. No. She didn’t force him into anything. She just sat there, quiet and understand and watching her stillness crack him open like an egg. 

He exhaled, hard, and dropped heavily into a chair. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered after several minutes. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Maddie said, sitting down across from him. 

“No, I’m pretty sure there definitely is.” He rubbed both hands over his face. “Because this whole thing is stupid. Rodge is stupid. He has a stupid smoke machine and got himself attacked by a stupid racoon.”

Maddie’s mouth twitched, but she schooled her face. 

“Don’t,” Buck whined. 

“I’m not.”

“Yes you are,” he argued. “I know when you’re internally laughing, Mads.”

She cracked, a smile blooming across her face. 

“Maybe a little.” 

He groaned, dropping his head back. “See? It’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” Maddie said softly. “But you’re not acting like it feels stupid.”

He huffed, looking down at the table now. That had hit harder than Buck was comfortable with. But once again, Maddie knew exactly what buttons to push and when. 

His eyes were drawn back to the muffins. Staring at them like they had all the answers in the universe, when, in reality, he’d made them as stress-relievers. To forget Rodge and Eddie and the songs. And even then he’d still almost made chocolate chip muffins, because Eddie liked those best. But he wasn’t making these for Eddie and Chris, and he fear if he made them, he’d end up on Eddie’s doorstep on autopilot because when Buck wasn’t thinking, his internal autopilot always led him to Eddie. 

So he’d made blueberry. Because those were Maddie’s favorites.

“I just…,” he swallowed thickly. “Get so mad.”

“At Rodge?”

“Yes.” Then quieter. “No? I don’t know.”

Maddie didn’t interrupt. She waited. Because that wasn’t an answer. 

Buck pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Every time he looks at Eddie like that, I want to shove him into traffic.”

“Buck.”

“Not literally… I think.”

“Good.”

“And it’s not just him looking,” he continued. His words were spilling out faster now, like a freshly cracked yolk. “It’s what he says. The arms thing, and the shoulders thing. And that stupid song about his jawline and his–” Buck waved a hand violently. “Whatever.”

“His whatever?”

“I’m not discussing Eddie’s ass with my sister.”

“Fair enough.”

“It just makes me feel–” he stopped, frustrated. “I don’t know. Like my chest gets tight and my stomach does this weird swoopy thing, and then Eddie laughs and it gets worse, except not worse exactly, just– more. Like I’m having a heart attack, but only ever when Eddie looks at me.”

Maddie’s face softed completely then and Buck’s stomach fell into his shoes. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head hard. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You looked something.”

“I’m just listening.”

“No, you’re doing the face!” Buck accused. 

“What face?”

“The Maddie face!”

She smiled a little. “Maddie face?”

“The face you make when you know something terrible about me before I know it!”

Maddie leaned forward, folding her hands on the table. “Can I ask you something?”

“No.”

“When Rodge compliments Eddie, why does it bother you?” she asked, ignoring him. 

“Because… it’s weird.”

“People flirt with Eddie all the time. I know you know that.”

Buck opened his mouth. Then closed it. Maddie nodded slightly, like he’d answered anyway. 

Outside the breakroom, faint through the wall, Rodge’s voice rang out again like he was mocking Buck. 

🎵 DIAZ! Firefighter man Diaz! 🎵 

Buck dropped his forehead to the table.

“I hate that stupid song.”

“I know.”

“I hate that he wrote it about Eddie.”

“I know.”

“I hate that Eddie thinks it’s funny.”

“Do you?”

Buck went still. 

Maddie’s voice remained soft. “Or do you hate that Eddie likes being noticed, and for some reason, it feels like that should be your role?”

Buck lifted his head slowly, staring at her. His entire brain went silent. Then immediately began screaming. 

“Mads.”

“I’m not telling you what it means.”

“You basically just did!”

“No,” she said gently. “I’m only asking you to think about it.”

“I don’t want to think about it!”

“And that usually means you need to,” she said softly. 

Buck stood so quickly the chair scraped hard against the floor. 

“Nope.”

“Buck–”

“No. Absolutely not. I am not having a feelings realization in a dispatch breakroom while a garage-band hostage video plays outside.”

As if summoned by the devil himself, Josh’s phone grew louder. Loud enough to be heard through the door. 

🎵 BUCKLEY!

Emotionally reacting fast! 🎵 

Buck turned upward, groaning to the ceiling with wide eyes. 

“See?! This is psychological warfare!”

Maddie pressed her lips together, fighting an obvious smile. 

Buck’s feet started moving on their own accord and his head dropped into his hands as he paced from one end of the room to the other, then back again. When he turned to her, his face was filled with pure, dreadful panic. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered. “I’m in love with my best friend and this is the soundtrack of my own public execution.”

Buck didn’t remember leaving dispatch. One second he was standing in the break room, gaping at Madie, the next… 

He was parked outside Eddie’s house in his usual parking spot.

He blinked slowly at the driveway. The engine was still running. His hands were still locked on the steering wheel. And judging by the orange glow of the setting sun across the dashbooard, at least forty minutes had passed. 

“... Oh,” he whispered to himself. 

He didn’t remember leaving dispatch, let alone the drive to Eddie’s. He couldn’t recall not a single traffic light, turn, or traffic delay.

That didn’t feel safe. 

The only thing he could genuinely remember is the same line that’d been playing on repeat inside his skull since the words had come out of Maddie’s mouth. 

Or do you hate that Edie likes being noticed, and for some reason, it feels like that should be your role?

Buck dropped his forehead against the steering wheel with a soft thunk.

Before he could decide whether to drive away, throw himself to the mercy of the ocean, or fake his own death, the front door opened. 

Buck looked up just as Eddie stepped out onto the porch, dish towel tossed over one shoulder, sweat pants low on his hips, bare feet exposed to the cool concrete. 

He took one look at Buck sitting motionless in the truck and grinned. He didn’t say anything, however, until Buck almost reluctantly got out of the truck and walked up toward the porch like he was walking to his execution. 

“Well,” Eddie called. “That was fast.”

Buck stared at him blankly. Eddie simply leaned far too casually against the porch railing. “What? Did Rodge release another song already?”

Normally, Buck would have groaned. He would have defended himself. 

Normally, he would’ve had literally any functioning response. 

But he just stared. And slowly, Eddie’s smile faded. The teasing slipped away so fast it could give someone whiplash. 

“Buck?”

Buck swallowed. And because apparently his dignity had finally abandoned him permanently sometime around tackling Eddie away from a not-rabid raccoon, the first thing out of his mouth was:

“I don’t remember driving here.”

And Eddie’s body froze. 

“You don’t remember the drive here?”

Buck shook his head once. 

“I left dispatch… then suddenly, I’m parked in your driveway.”

It definitely sounded way worse outloud. 

Eddie was descending the steps immediately, hand quickly finding the juncture of Buck’s neck and shoulder, thumb resting in the same divot that might as well be his own real estate. 

“You okay?”

“No,” Buck admitted hollowly. 

It hadn’t even been an hour ago that Buck realized he was in love with his best friend. And now here said best friend was, looking at him with those sincere, concerned, yet affectionate cow eyes and Buck could feel himself melting. He was about to be a puddle in front of Eddie’s house because it was Eddie. It was always Eddie. It would always be Eddie. 

“You wanna come inside?” Eddie asked softly. 

Buck laughed once under his breath. Small and broken around the edges. 

“I think my subconscious already answered that question.”

Something in Eddie’s expression shifted at that, but it wasn’t amusement or teasing. It was gentler. Tender. 

“C’mon,” he spoke softly. 

Buck nodded, letting Eddie take his hand and slowly guide him up the steps, across the threshold, and into the house, closing and locking the door behind him, still completely on autopilot. 

The second the door was locked, however, the Diaz house wrapped around him in instantly familiar warmth that loosened something deeply wedged in his chest and he found his head slowly clearing. This was safe. This was warm. This was…

Home.

The thought felt like it should be terrifying, but for the first time since Rodge Bronson blew up his life, he didn’t feel like he was spiraling or going insane. He was comfortable and tranquil. 

He toed his shoes off by the door, letting them drop into their normal place, soles wedged between Eddie’s boots and Christopher’s sneakers, connecting them all in an always connected line. 

As Buck’s socked feet settled onto the familiar floor, he took the time to gather his bearings before following Eddie into the kitchen. 

The smell of pizza hung in the air like perfection and the TV was faintly playing deeper inside the house. He could hear the soft voices of Eddie and Chris before the twelve year old was emerging from the kitchen, a bright grin etched across his face as he crutched across the floor. 

He didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his arms around Buck’s center and Buck’s arms wrapped firmly around him. He let himself drop a soft kiss to the top of Christopher’s head, nose itching slightly from the face-full of curls. 

“Hey buddy,” Buck breathed, finally finding his voice. 

As the hug parted, Christopher peered up into Buck’s face, his eyebrows scrunching together.

“You look weird,” he mumbled. 

From the doorway of the kitchen, Eddie snorted and Buck scoffed playfully, tilting his head to glare at Eddie. 

“Your spawn is rude,” he accused. 

“He gets that from you.”

Christopher continued to study Buck with almost alarming intensity and Buck feared all his secrets were being exposed without his permission to a pre-teen with no filter. 

“Did the singing guy come back?”

Buck gaped. 

“Why does everybody know about this?”

“Dad told me,” Chris shrugged. 

Traitor. 

Eddie looked entirely unapologetic about it too, and Buck might be offended if he didn’t want to just…wrap his arms around Eddie’s neck and burrow his face in his neck until all the problems in the world melted away. 

“He thought the raccoon part was funny.”

“The raccoon part was funny,” Chris argued.

“I got tackled into concrete,” Eddie pouted.

“You’re fine!”

Buck narrowed his eyes. “You’re both mean to me.”

“Yeah,” Chris agreed easily. “But we have pizza, so.”

And maybe it was because Buck was emotionally fragile, or maybe it was just Eddie. But something in his chest tightened at the domesticity of them just… expecting him here. Like this was where he belonged. 

“I love you.”

The words slipped out against his will. His brain, still obviously on autopilot, hadn’t managed to filter the words before his mouth spit them out. And now, right when he finally realized why this house felt so much like home when it hadn’t when Eddie was in Texas, Eddie was going to kick him out of their lives. 

He dropped his head, bracing hard for the rejection from ruining all of their lives. He just waited for the hammer to drop. And waited. And waited. But it never came.

Instead, when he lifted his head, what he found was Chris’ receding figure and Eddie’s fond expression. His soft eyes like molten chocolate Buck wanted to drown in. And suddenly, that expression that Eddie had gazed at him with suddenly made sense. 

It was an expression of love. 

“It’s about time you caught up.”

Buck’s eyes widened. 

“How long have you known?!”

“Since the lightening strike.”

That couldn’t… That was years ago! That couldn’t be right!

“Granted, I didn’t realize I knew until I was seeing a therapist in Texas who helped me realize it. Then later, helped me come up with a term to call myself.”

Buck was floundering, mouth opened and closing like a fish. 

“A-and what t-term?” he asked. 

“Why don’t we sit down for this conversation?”

He led Buck into the kitchen, because all of their important, friendship altering conversations always happened right here in this kitchen. 

They sat down in Eddie’s chairs together, Eddie across from Buck so they could look at one another. He was still smiling. Soft. Warm. He wasn’t wringing his hands or clenching his jaw like he always did when he was nervous. He was calm. Certain. And that made Buck’s frayed nerves relax. 

“”It’s called demisexual,” Eddie explained. “It means that I have to have an emotional connection with someone in order to feel desire for them. It’s why I fell for Shannon, who was my best friend. It’s why I fell harder for you.”

Buck’s gasp was audible as it rattled rough against his ribs. 

“W-why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because you didn’t know yet. I’ve known you had feelings for me since your bratty attitude the day we met. Those grew. But you weren’t ready to see it. Then, when I thought you were there, you started dating Tommy instead, and I thought I was wrong,” Eddie made a face. 

Buck shook his head. 

“I…,” he swallowed hard. “I was never trying to get Tommy’s attention…”

Had his entire relationship with Tommy been a lie… to himself?! Because he wasn’t ready to accept the fact that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend. 

“I love you,” he breathed. 

Eddie nodded, smiling. 

“So you said,” he teased before his smile softened. “And I love you.”

It felt like a daze. Like this wasn’t real. Like he was standing in dispatch, probably freaking the fuck out of Maddie. But he was here. Sitting at a kitchen table he’d grown to know so well. His best friend saying all these wonderful things…

“Chris?”

“Has known the entire time. When I told him how I felt, he just rolled his eyes and muttered that it was about time,” Eddie chuckled. “Kid’s too smart for me.”

“But… He would be okay if– if… we were to… date? N-not saying that we will! B-but–”

“I want to date you, Evan,” Eddie’s voice was gentle as he settled a hand on top of Buck’s. “I want to kiss you and love you and hold you in my arms. I want to take you on dates and do filthy things with you and share a bed in our room.”

Buck swore his heart stopped again before it slammed down hard and he was grabbing Eddie’s hand, squeezing tightly. 

“I want all of that too,” he whispered. 

“Good.”

They were silent then. Staring at one another like they were trying to commit one another’s faces to memory. Buck trailed his eyes over the dips and divots of Eddie’s face in a way he’d never allowed himself to do before. 

“Can I come out now?” Chris called from his room. “I’m starving!”

Eddie rolled his eyes and chuckled. 

“Yes mijo, let’s eat!” Then he turned back to Buck. “Our teenager is already starting to eat me out of house and home.”

Buck’s brow furrowed. 

“Our?”

“Mhm.”

Queue Buck buffering once again as Christopher’s door opened. Eddie stood up to get plates, but not before he rounded the table and brushed his fingers along Buck’s jawline, tilting his head up. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

The leaned down into him, pressing his lips softly to Buck’s. It was at that moment that Buck knew, he’d never have another first kiss ever again. This was it. And it couldn’t be more perfect. 

“Oh! Ew! Don’t do that in front of me!” Chris cried. 

Chuckling in each other’s mouths, they separated, finding Chris dramatically covering his eyes, scandalized. 

“You’d better get used to it bud,” Eddie teased, but he stepped away from Buck to finally grab plates and the probably cool pizza. 

Chris rolled his eyes and settled into his seat. 

“When is Buck moving in?”

“We just started–”

“His lease is up in a month.”

“Now just–”

“So we should start going over to help him pack now?”

“Hold on–”

“The sooner the better.”

“Wait!” Buck yelped. “We just… started dating! Isn’t it too soon to move in?!”

“You two have been dating for years, you just didn’t call it that,” Chris shrugged. “It’s not like dads proposing.”

“You… would be okay with me moving in?”

Chris looked annoyed. 

“Duh. You basically live here anyway!”

“But–”

“Dinner!” Eddie announced, placing pizza filled plates in front of them, effectively ending the conversation. For now at least. 

After dinner, Chris retired to his room to play video games and Buck and Eddie fell onto the couch. Closer than they usually were. Thighs brushing and Eddie’s arm draped around Buck’s shoulders. Buck allowed himself to croon into Eddie’s space, letting his head drop in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.”

Eddie flicked on the television, and, of course, Rodge Bronson and his band were the first thing displayed on the screen. On a stage, in front of a live studio audience. 

“This song goes out to my two favorite firefighters whom I hope have confessed their undying love by this point, otherwise this is about to be awkward.”

Buck groaned as the guitar began playing. 

“Please turn it,” he whined. 

“No,” Eddie said softly. 

🎵

Saw a firefighter standing in LA
looked half-lost in the middle of the flames
Found another one beside him there
like he’d always been waiting

One runs loud and one runs deep
one don’t rest and one can’t sleep
But every time the world gets rough
they end up back together

DIAZ
steady like the coastline
BUCKLEY
heart out on the front line

One jumps first
one stands fast
both keep holding onto that

Saw ‘em laughing in the smoke one day
like the world hadn’t nearly gone sideways
And I swear the space between those two
looked a little bit like home

One looks angry
one looks gone
both look better holding on

DIAZ
soft eyes in the porch light
BUCKLEY
finally got it right

No more hiding
no more running
whole thing finally says something

If you ask me
love looks like
two firefighters sharing pizza late at night

🎵

“I really hope you two finally figured it out,” Rodge spoke sincerely into his microphone once the crowd stopped cheering. “Congratulations to Buckley for hopefully surviving his own emotional arc.”

Buck whined and buried his face into Eddie’s shoulder. 

“I’m going to kill him.”

Eddie chuckled beside him, turning to press his lips to his head. “No you’re not.”

“How did he even write that song when half this shit just happened?” Buck grumbled. “We should call Athena.”

“Why would we call Athena?”

“House is probably bugged.”

Eddie shook his head and kissed his forehead. Buck tilted his head up and let Eddie capture his lips. 

“I love you,” Eddie whispered against his mouth. “Even when you’re paranoid. Even when you’re possessive.”

“Couldn’t let Rodge take you away from me,” Buck whined. 

Eddie’s chuckle was deep and hot. 

“He could never take me from you,” he whispered. “Besides, Officer Nolan told me he’s dating a patrol officer.”

“What?! But… He’s been flirting with you!”

“Yes, baby,” Eddie grinned. “But only to get a rise out of you. You’re cute when you’re riled up.”

Buck whined again and scooted closer, wrapping both arms around Eddie like an octopus. 

“You love me.”

“That I do, Evan Buckley. That I do.”