Archive of Our Own

“Are you gonna drink that?”

Buck stares at Ravi, then down at his drink, then back up at Ravi. He raises an eyebrow. “Seriously, Ravi?”

“Seriously,” says Ravi, and then he reaches across the table and takes Buck’s drink and proceeds to chug it in its entirety with startling efficiency. When he’s finished, he slams the glass onto the wood, then moves to stand up. “Round two?”

“Are you—”

“Great! Be right back,” says Ravi, and then he begins his wobbling journey over to the bar.

Buck stares after him. He has no idea what’s going on right now, which, to be fair, is not particularly uncharted territory for him. In fact, he had been pretty much bombarded after work earlier today, Ravi appearing in front of his locker like some sort of weepy grim reaper. He looked pretty terrible, so when he asked Buck in simple terms if he “wanted to get fucked up tonight,” Buck had decided to take pity on him and say yes.

Which brings him to now: Ravi flopping back into his seat, picking up his glass with both hands, and tipping the lip against his open mouth. Buck grimaces as he watches him inhale it down, the liquid in the glass decreasing by the milisecond, and decides, well, fuck it. He just found out his parents are getting a freaking divorce, and he’s been exceedingly normal about it, really, even considering his dad’s revelation about him and Margaret being in California during Bobby’s funeral. Plus, now he’s found out that Bobby was certain that Eddie would come back from El Paso when he left him last year. And it’s a Friday night, so, honestly, he might as well indulge.

Buck snatches his own drink before Ravi can get his grubby little hands on it, and he takes a measured, throat-wetting sip.

Then Ravi announces, “I slept with May,” and immediately Buck chokes.

Ravi finishes his drink as Buck sputters through his coughing fit and wipes flimsily at his mouth with the sleeve of his LAFD t-shirt. He looks like the perfect picture of patience as he waits for Buck to finish.

Finally, Buck says, “You what?” 

To which Ravi nods grimly and says, “Yep, and that’s not all. Harry walked in on us.” Cue another coughing fit. This time Ravi is less patient as he continues, “So it made things kind of weird, right, and now Harry says the only way I can date her is if I move to a different firehouse. Anyways.” He holds up his glass. “Round three?”

Buck nods very slowly. “Round three,” he says, and Ravi throws him a thumbs up before getting up again.

Whatever he brings back is stronger than the last two rounds, and Buck’s world is beginning to tilt on its axis, just a little. He giggles with Ravi as he recounts his date with May, how perfect it had been, how beautiful she had looked across from him at dinner, how insane he had felt when he saw her in the audience at the auction with her hand raised, bidding thousands of dollars for an evening alone with him. He tells Buck that he would have gone out with her for free if she had asked. He tells Buck that he regrets not asking her out sooner, but also maybe it’s for the best because clearly her little brother hates his guts!

“I was making her breakfast in bed,” Ravi croaks, running his index finger along the rim of round four. “And then there he was. The probie. While I was naked in her kitchen.”

“Hey,” says Buck, draining his own glass. “At least it wasn’t Athena.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” says Ravi, shuddering, horrified. He’s now swaying side to side like an inflatable tube man. “He said I’m a good guy, you know. Clearly not good enough for his sister though, which, you know, I can understand on a purely objective level. She is pretty awesome…”

Buck’s phone buzzes on the table, snapping his focus away. He picks it up to see Eddie’s contact, with a selfie of him and Christopher in front of a Scrabble board. It’s accompanied by a message that reads just so you know, i beat chris. bet you can’t say that about yourself huh. 

Bucks snorts and types back: just so you know, it’s kind of weird to flex about winning scrabble against a fifteen year old.

To which Eddie responds: whatever. i was going to say “we’ll see about that when you beat him for once” but we all know that’s never gonna happen, so. sux.

“Is that Eddie?” 

Buck glances up from his phone. Ravi is staring at him unblinkingly. Knowingly, almost, though Buck can’t imagine what it is he knows.

“Yeah.” Buck turns his phone around, showing him the picture. “He beat Chris at Scrabble.”

Ravi scrunches his nose. “Kind of a weird flex.”

“Thank you!” says Buck, throwing his hands up. “That’s exactly what I said!”

Ravi grins, sways a bit. There’s a new sort of twinkle in his eyes as he leans over the table. “Speaking of Eddie,” he starts conspiratorily, “did you know we all have a bet about you?”

Buck is too busy disliking Eddie’s latest message to hear what Ravi just said. He clicks his phone off and shoves it away. “What was that?”

“A bet,” Ravi repeats. “We have a bet about you. You know, for how long it’ll take for you and Eddie to admit that you’re in love with each other.” He sniffs. “Chim’s already lost once. He put a new guess in like two months ago. Harry just got in on it too. It’s kind of like the 118 hazing ritual, if you think about it. They got me in my second week as probie.” A pause. “Wow, I definitely wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

“Wait, what?” Buck straightens up, suddenly a lot more aware of his surroundings. 

“I’m going to blame Harry for this,” Ravi announces. “Maybe if he just let me date his sister I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

“You guys have a bet about me and Eddie?”

Ravi raises both of his eyebrows. “Dude.”

“But that doesn’t even make sense,” Buck protests. “Eddie’s straight.”

“Sure thing,” says Ravi. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a bet about you guys.”

“Wait, what do you mean you got in on it your second week?” says Buck, frowning. “You’ve been here for five years?”

“This is great progression for our relationship,” says Ravi. “A while ago I had to remind you I’ve been here for years.”

Buck’s brain is moving faster than his mouth. He’s like a hamster on an endless turning wheel, his heart picking up speed pathetically. “You guys have had a bet about me and Eddie for five years?”

“Oh, no, it’s been way longer than that,” Ravi says, waving his hand out in between them. “I’m just saying I got added to the pool five years ago. I’m pretty sure it’s been a thing since the first year Eddie joined the 118, actually, but, like, an influx of people were added to it after your whole, you know.” He makes a vague gesticulation. “Your Tommy era.”

Buck is gaping at him.

Ravi holds up his empty glass. “Round five?”

The rim of it glints against the dim lighting of the bar like some cheap mockery of a joke. Vaguely Buck wonders if somehow he’s landed in a coma dream again. He looks around helplessly. He pinches himself in the arm and immediately winces in pain, then feels profoundly stupid about it.

“But Eddie’s straight,” he says again. His voice sounds so distraught it takes his own self by surprise. “Why does this keep happening to me? Can you believe that this keeps happening to me?”

“Round five,” says Ravi to himself, nodding. “Somehow I’m still not drunk enough for this.”

Then he gets up and leaves Buck in the dust. And Buck stares after him and doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do with himself now. 

ravi (DO NOT ANSWER)

[09:47] ravi (DO NOT ANSWER): good morning!
[09:47] ravi (DO NOT ANSWER): for the record can we just conveniently forget everything that happened last night
[09:47] ravi (DO NOT ANSWER): and by that i mean ur sworn to secrecy
[09:47] ravi (DO NOT ANSWER): and even if ur not i didn’t tell u anything!
[09:47] ravi (DO NOT ANSWER): thanks!

[09:52] you: i am never getting drunk with you ever again

[09:53] ravi (DO NOT ANSWER): yeah ok that’s fair

So Buck does what any normal person would do when faced with the reality of all the closest people in his life betting on his very nonexistent relationship with his straight best friend: he bakes a dozen cupcakes, twenty red velvet cheesecake cookies, three loaves of banana bread, and two trays of cinnamon roll blondies.

“Wow,” says Eddie as he shrugs his jacket off in the entryway. “Something smells good.”

Buck freezes where he’s carefully balanced in front of the coffee table, bent over his newest creation: oreo millionaire shortbread bars. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “I have a key. You’ve literally never asked me that before.”

“Right,” says Buck. He holds out a corner piece. “Shortbread?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Eddie grins, snatching it out of Buck’s hand and taking a hefty bite. “Oh, this is delicious. And kind of fitting. I’m here because of your text in the group chat.”

“What text?” says Buck. He’s already distracted by the sound of his oven beeping. “Oh, that’ll be the oreo cake.”

Eddie looks down at his shortbread, then back up at Buck.

Buck shrugs. “I bought a lot of oreos.”

“I can see that,” says Eddie, and then, because of course, “Are you good? The last time you went on a baking rampage like this you were trying to stop yourself from texting Tommy.”

Buck sort of wishes he was doing this to try to stop himself from texting Tommy. That would be so much simpler than whatever the fuck is going on in his head right now. But the fact of the matter is that he hasn’t even thought about Tommy in months, he genuinely doesn’t want to know what he’s up to these days, and he can’t stop replaying Ravi’s drunken we all have a bet about you. 

He stops, horrified, as he suddenly remembers another conversation he had with Tommy over a year ago now. When he referred to Eddie as his competition. And then Maddie, later, saying it wouldn’t be so crazy if he was in love with Eddie. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Anyways,” Eddie says after a few moments of Buck forgetting to respond. Buck snaps out of his trance. He turns to find Eddie holding up his phone, the screen displaying a litter of messages. “Your text? You sent a picture of your dining table full of desserts and asked if anyone wanted to take anything. Well, congrats, that’s me right now. Chris is inviting some friends over for a sleepover tonight and I want those cookies.”

“Oh,” says Buck. His voice sounds foreign to his own ears. “The cookies, right. Here. They have cheesecake filling, by the way.”

“Music to my ears,” says Eddie. He takes the liberty of going through Buck’s cupboards—because he knows where everything is already, of course—and pulling out a small sky blue container—the one Buck bought specifically to pack food for Christopher, of course—and filling it to the brim with piles and piles of cookies. “So, just to be clear, you’re not thinking about texting Tommy. Right?”

Buck laughs despite himself. “Nope, I am definitely not thinking about texting Tommy.”

Eddie puts the container down and sends him a long look. “Are you thinking about your parents?”

Buck stops. Right—his parents. 

“No,” he says, even though that’s not quite right. “Well. Not really. Did I tell you my dad came over and apologized? Not even for the whole divorce thing. He apologized for Bobby.”

“Seriously?” says Eddie, the corners of his mouth pulling downward into a frown.

Buck nods. “Yeah, which was crazy. He told me they were in wine country during the funeral. They could have, you know.” He shrugs. “They could have been there. But they weren’t. And I asked him why and he said it’s because they’re terrible parents.”

Eddie grimaces. “Well,” he says, looking down at his container filled to the brim with cookies. “That at least explains the baking. I think.” It doesn’t, but Buck is okay with this small misunderstanding. A teeny tiny white lie for the greater good that is his post-drinking-with-Ravi mental state. He is seriously never going out with that guy ever again. It has literally never once not led to trouble in some way or the other.

Eddie sighs and walks across the room to him, reaching out and clasping Buck’s shoulder in his palm. “I’m sorry, Buck.”

“It’s okay.” Buck smiles a small little smile. “I went out drinking with Ravi last night. If nothing else it took my mind off things.” And gave him an entirely new thing to spiral about! So true.

“Oh,” says Eddie, pausing. “We could’ve…you should have told me you needed a night out.”

“Not me,” Buck waves him off. “Ravi did. He was crashing out about May.”

“May,” Eddie echoes.

“May,” Buck nods. “They went on a date and now Harry won’t let him see her. It’s a whole thing. You should ask him about it.” He considers this, then adds, “Just make sure I’m about fifty feet away from that conversation. From Ravi in general, actually. Can you make that happen? Thanks, Eddie. I owe you one.”

With that, he spins around and realizes all at once that he still hasn’t taken his oreo cake out of the oven. An apt metaphor for the past twenty four hours of his life.

“Okay, give it to me straight,” Buck says, hands on hips, staring readily at Hen. 

“Please don’t make me do anything straight,” Hen quips from where she’s idly sipping at her caramel oat milk latte, perched at the end of the firehouse dinner table with two raised eyebrows.

“Fine.” Buck waves a hand, then goes back to his cheese grating. He is attempting—emphasis on attempting—to replicate Bobby’s baked mac and cheese recipe. It has been a very slow going process thus far, judging by this being his fourth attempt. “Give it to me gay, then. How much money do you have riding on this bet?”

“Which one?” asks Hen, swirling her to-go cup halfway up by her collar as Buck’s eyes bulge out of their sockets.

“There’s multiple bets?”

“There’s always multiple bets,” says Hen, leveling him with a look his mind is too muddled right now to truly analyze. “Multiple bets about multiple things. You know this.”

Buck does know this, he’s just never really thought very deeply about it. Perhaps he should have. 

He shakes his head. “How many of them are about me, then?”

Hen snorts. Buck decides he actually doesn’t want to know the answer to that question.

“Okay,” says Buck. He takes in a deep lungful of air, then releases it slowly, painstakingly. Thank god Eddie is with Chimney in the captain’s office right now, helping him with some paperwork about one of their calls yesterday. “The bet you all apparently have about me and Eddie.”

Hen freezes, her eyes going comically wide. “Who the hell told you about that one?”

“Ravi did,” says Buck.

“Dude,” says Ravi out of literally nowhere. Buck turns halfway to see him coming up the stairs. 

Hen rounds on him immediately. “You told Buck?”

“I told you that you were sworn to secrecy!” Ravi says to Buck.

“Skill issue,” says Buck.

“I was drunk,” says Ravi very solemnly to Hen, who doesn’t look impressed in the slightest. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’ve never said some stupid shit while under the influence?”

“Who’s under the influence?” says Chimney, also out of nowhere.

“Cap, Buck’s a cold hard liar who betrays all of his friends,” says Ravi, pointing his index finger right at Buck, who scoffs and rolls his eyes. 

“We,” says Buck, gesturing between them, “are not friends anymore.”

“Ouch,” comes Eddie’s voice, because of course it does. This is exactly, one hundred percent what Buck needs to be happening right now. “That’s rough, Ravi. What’d you do?”

Ravi pulls a face. “Why are we assuming I did something?”

“Because you did,” says Buck.

“That’s new,” says Chimney, considering. His eyes flit between Buck and Ravi, back and forth, back and forth, until he ultimately seems to decide that he actually doesn’t want to know what’s going on, nor does he want to involve himself in the slightest. Normally Buck would be the first person to call him out on this. However, there is the slight issue of Eddie currently being in the same room right now. And frankly Buck is simply not going to deal with that right now.

He grabs the tray of pasta he had been working on, now set with the finishing top layer of cheddar, and slides it into the oven with a flourish. Then he flicks it shut, drops his mitts onto the counter next to him, and returns to face the group with a smile on his face. They stare back at him, Hen’s eyebrows raised, Ravi looking disgruntled, and Chimney already moved on and typing away on his phone.

“Well, this was fun,” Buck says. “Bye now.”

Then he turns, and right as his body makes a linear line with the staircase exit, he sees Eddie move in his periphery.

“Buck,” Eddie says, catching up to him.

“I plead the fifth,” says Buck, already flying past the fourth step.

“What? No, not that,” says Eddie, and so Buck stops, and he turns back, and he looks at Eddie with an expression he can only hope is as normal as he does not feel. “Though I am curious. Whatever that was.” He waves his hand quickly, as if swatting the thought away. “Anyways, I was going to ask if you’d be able to pick Chris up from school today. Chim offered to let me help him with paperwork and honestly I could use the overtime.”

“Oh,” says Buck. Right. “Sure. Of course.”

“Thanks,” Eddie breathes. “You can bring him here or just drop him off at my house if you have something else you need to be doing. I shouldn’t take too long and he’ll be okay alone for a while.”

“It’s fine, I don’t have plans,” says Buck. “I’ll make us all dinner. Whatever Chris wants.”

Eddie smiles, and it sends a chill up Buck’s spine. Which is not at all a normal reaction to your best friend smiling at you. Get yourself the fuck together, Buckley.

But then Eddie is reaching out and squeezing Buck’s shoulder and the rest of the world just—falls away. And the only thing Buck can see is Eddie’s face right now and the way his eyes are so soft as they look at him, so warm and so gentle and Jesus Christ Buck needs to be so fucking serious right now. It’s Eddie. It’s just Eddie. Just because all of their friends have apparently been seeing something he’s been purposely not thinking about for years doesn’t and shouldn’t mean anything. This is an objectively useless thing to be spiraling about, and it won’t come in the way of them. Not if Buck has anything to do with it.

Buck is seriously not proud to admit this, but when Tommy had kissed him for the first time two years ago, his mind had immediately gone to Eddie.

And no, not in a wow, I wish Eddie was the one kissing me right now! way. Just…Eddie. It’s like something clicked in that moment, sliding firmly into place when Tommy surged forward, pressed their lips together, stayed like that for a few long seconds. Like some dormant plant suddenly woke up in his gut and decided that Tommy’s mouth was sunshine and water and finally it could bloom to life.

He felt stupid about it, too. How did he only realize he was bisexual in his thirties? Aren’t people supposed to wake up to this sort of stuff a lot earlier? He’s always known it was an option, has always been an ally, as he so aptly put it to Maddie when he came out to her—why did it not click that it could also be an option for him?

Which, of course, led him to thinking about Eddie. Eddie, who has arguably been the single most constant being in Buck’s life. Even when they were fighting. Even when Eddie was in El Paso with Christopher. They leaned on each other more than they leaned on anyone else. Even when they were in their own romantic relationships. Even when it could have and should have been anyone else.

He couldn’t linger on it for too long. Eddie is straight. Eddie is Buck’s best friend, and that is something he can’t lose. He thinks it would be something akin to death, losing Eddie.

Anyways, so Buck thought about Eddie when Tommy kissed him. And then Eddie had shown up with Marisol at his first date with Tommy and he thought about him some more. And then Eddie had broken up with Marisol and Christopher moved away and suddenly all of that seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things because Eddie has always and will always choose his son before anyone else.

And usually something like that would hit Buck where it hurts the most but for some reason it’s different with Eddie. It’s always been different with Eddie. Because Buck knows Christopher too and he would never expect anything else. He thinks he would actually be angry with Eddie if he had said something different that day, when Buck had created a fake profile on Zillow and showed up at Eddie’s house and told him that he didn’t have to worry anymore.

Buck gives and gives and he loves with everything in him but he doesn’t think he would have done that for anyone else. Eddie’s house was a tether and Buck was pulling hopelessly at an invisible string, willing him to come back but never daring to encroach that want onto him. 

A tapping sound crashes through his thoughts. Buck looks sidelong to find Christopher on the other side of the car window, a grin splashed across the bottom half of his face.

Buck returns the smile, quickly unlocking the car door and getting out to help him. “Chris!”

“Hi, Buck,” says Christopher, clambering into the passenger seat. Buck carefully extracts his crutches from his hands and moves to lay them across the back seat of his car. “Where’s dad?”

“Still at work,” says Buck. He settles back into his seat and kicks the engine to life. “Any special requests for dinner?”

“Can you make those gochujang noodles you made that one time?”

“Excellent choice,” Buck nods. “I hope you don’t mind a pit stop to buy peanut butter, then. Pretty sure your dad is out.”

“Dad hasn’t been grocery shopping in like three months. He’s out of everything.”

“Touché.”

So Buck drives to the grocery store and he and Christopher peruse the aisles together for peanut butter and end up with a cartful of things they definitely don’t need for noodles. Buck does a mental inventory check of Eddie’s kitchen cabinets and picks up vanilla extract, peaches, Christopher’s favorite brand of chocolate gelato, popcorn, and a case of that fizzy strawberry juice Eddie’s been obsessed with lately. Christopher holds up two yogurt options, and Buck points to the blueberry greek one because he remembers Eddie’s face of delight when he had a spoon of it at Buck’s place last week.

“You guys are so weird,” Christopher says as he passes the box over.

“How so?” says Buck as he puts the yogurt into their cart. He catches sight of a box of almond butter protein bars in his periphery, his eyes lighting up as he grabs two of them and tosses them in, too. “Oh, this is perfect. I got the peanut butter ones last time and your dad made such a fuss.”

He turns to see Christopher looking at him with the kind of expression he usually gets from Hen.

Which, you know, is pretty terrifying.

“What?” he blinks.

“Nothing,” says Christopher. “Can I have twenty dollars?”

“What?” says Buck, his brows furrowing. “I mean, yeah, sure, but why so suddenly?”

He fishes his wallet out from his back pocket and hands over the bill. Christopher takes it and says, “Don’t worry about it,” which is not at all concerning and extremely normal for a fifteen year old to do.

“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Buck asks, tilting his head.

Christopher lets out a world-weary sigh. “Don’t you think if I was in trouble I’d ask for more than twenty dollars?”

“Fair point,” says Buck, and then they make their way to the check out line.

“Oh!” says the cashier, a friendly smile on her face as she begins scanning their items. “Father and son shopping spree? Did you find everything you’re looking for?”

Buck and Christopher exchange a look.

She winces. “Oh, sorry—”

“Yeah,” Buck says quickly, dropping the peaches onto the conveyor belt.

Minutes later he’s loading up the trunk after helping Christopher back into his seat, mildly dissociating as his limbs work on autopilot for him. It’s not even a big deal, really, since he’s been mistaken for Christopher’s father approximately forty times over the course of the last eight years. It’s just that, well, this on top of Ravi’s dumb stupid revelation is messing with his head a little.

Does everyone see it this way? Buck isn’t even sure what it is. Him? Him and Christopher? Him and Eddie? Him and Eddie and Christopher?

Thankfully Christopher doesn’t seem too perturbed by it, and he spends the ride home chatting about the ongoing drama in his AP biology class. Apparently two of the students who sit together in the front row have a thing, and this week when the class’ assigned seats were being shuffled, the teacher sat them next to each other again.

“Oh my god,” says Buck. “So even the teachers know about it?”

“Yeah, it’s really obvious,” says Christopher with a shake of his head. “They should just get together at this point. I’m not really sure what the hold up is. They clearly like each other.”

“Hmm,” says Buck as the two of them disembark from the car, and Buck bounds up to Eddie’s front with bagfuls of groceries in his hands. “Do you know for sure?”

“What? That they like each other?” Buck nods, and Christopher mirrors it. “Yeah. They’re always eating lunch together and I saw them alone at the library last week. He’s always blushing and she’s always finding ways to touch him, you know? It’s textbook.”

“Solid evidence,” Buck concedes, and then they come face to face with a deeply unimpressed looking Eddie.

“Seriously, Buckley?” Eddie says, staring at the groceries still in Buck’s hands.

“Stop looking at me like that and make yourself useful,” says Buck, and Eddie rolls his eyes so hard it’s a wonder how they don’t pop right out. He does move to take two of the bags, though, so there’s that, and the two of them set off putting things away in the kitchen while Christopher plops down onto the couch and turns on the TV.

“Homework first!” Eddie calls without even looking at him, working on snapping the little packs of blueberry yogurt free from each other and stuffing them into the right side of the fridge. “Oh, hey, I love these. I was thinking of getting them next time I went shopping.”

“So never,” says Buck. He’s rummaging through the cabinet underneath the counter, checking the cereal boxes to see if any are empty. “And yeah, I know. That’s why I bought them for you.”

Eddie sighs. “You need to stop doing this. We’re not even roommates anymore.”

“Doing what?” Buck drawls. “Making sure you’re fed? Also, it’s not like I don’t end up using at least half of the shit in your kitchen regardless.”

“Fine,” says Eddie. “Then I’ll buy your groceries next week.”

“Whatever. I really only went for this, anyways,” says Buck as he holds up the two jars of peanut butter. “Chris asked for noodles.”

“Oh, yeah? Let me help then.”

Buck stares at him for a few hard seconds.

“Tch. Suit yourself.” Eddie waves a hand at him and waddles out into the living room, leaving Buck alone in the kitchen. Once he’s gone, Buck releases a long, slow breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He waits for the sound of Eddie and Christopher’s quiet conversation through the doorway before releasing the weight over his shoulders and reaching for the gochujang paste.

The next day, he sends an SOS text to Maddie, and within five seconds he’s secured a dinner invitation.

His sister opens her door with a worried frown, her brows pinched tightly together. Buck watches as she looks at him from head to toe, mentally doing a wellness check. Buck sighs and resigns himself to attempting to be the kind of brother who worries her at least a little bit less going forward.

“Where’s Chim?” he asks, handing over a box of homemade fluffernutter cookies—Jee-Yun’s favorite.

“He took Jee and Nash to Hen and Karen’s place for a playdate,” says Maddie. She holds up the container to eye level and smiles. “Thank you for these, Buck. Jee’s going to be very upset she wasn’t here to eat them the second Uncle Buck brought them over.” A pause. “Though maybe that’s for the best. At least now I can portion control and avoid a late night sugar high.”

“Uncle Buck is very upset too,” says Buck, pouting. “I wanted to see my favorite niece.”

“She’s your only niece,” Maddie says with an eye roll as the two of them make their way to the kitchen.

Buck takes a seat and watches her pop the cookies into the fridge for later. “So? She can’t be my favorite?”

“Come on, spill,” says Maddie, finally turning and splaying her elbows across the counter. She leans over the wood, eyes sharp as she stares at him. “You sent an SOS. I cleared out my husband and children for you, and there’s pad thai being delivered in about twelve minutes. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” says Buck weakly. 

Maddie says nothing and waits.

And Buck, of course, instantly deflates. “I found out that the 118 have a betting pool for me and Eddie.”

Silence. Maddie’s lips part, like she wasn’t expecting this to be what brought Buck over. “I see.”

“You knew about it,” Buck fills in.

“Well,” says Maddie. Her face is wincing, and her eyes are tight in silent apology. But she nods, and Buck groans. “It’s kind of…infamous? You know how these things go with our people. I do have children with your captain.”

Buck’s eyes narrow on her. “Are you in on it? Don’t lie.”

“No,” says Maddie. A pause. “Well. Not anymore.”

“What?”

“Well now it just seems…” She makes a vague gesture with her hands. “You know?”

“No,” says Buck. “I really don’t.”

“I withdrew from it after you told me about Tommy.” Maddie sighs, her lips twisting as she seems to recall that particular conversation. “Are you upset?”

Buck shakes his head. “No.”

She clicks her tongue, disbelieving.

“I’m not,” he says again. “Really, I’m not. It’s not the bet I’m crashing out about. It’s everything else.” He lets out a frustrated huff. “I told you Tommy broke up with me over this too, right? He thought I was in love with Eddie and basically just assumed it to be true without even talking to me about it. Wait.” Buck gapes at her. “Tommy wasn’t in on the bet, was he?”

Maddie makes a face that seems more reflexive than anything else. “Absolutely not.”

“But did he know about it?” Buck presses.

“No,” she says. “He didn’t know about it. I promise you it is extremely 118 and 118-adjacent only.”

Another thought rips through him, so suddenly it catches in his throat, and he can’t stop it from spilling right out of him: “Was Bobby in on it?”

Maddie seems to decide now is a good time to take a seat with him, but then the doorbell rings with what Buck assumes is their dinner. She shoots him an apologetic smile and quickly goes to get it, and when she returns, Buck’s mind is already spinning at about one hundred miles per second. 

“Stop that,” she says as she extracts their takeout containers from the bag, sliding over a pair of disposable chopsticks across the table. “Stop thinking for a few seconds and get a few bites of food in your stomach, will you? Buck.”

“He was, wasn’t he?” Buck says helplessly. “Eddie didn’t even know he would be coming back to LA when Bobby entered us for Nashville. He knew Eddie would be back. He saw how I was when Eddie was gone and he knew he would come back.” He swallows, and it’s hard, tight as it slinks down his throat. “He knew. Bobby knew they would come back. Both of them. Eddie and Chris.”

Maddie’s expression softens. She picks up a piece of tofu with her chopsticks and pushes it against Buck’s mouth. “Open.”

Buck’s mouth opens.

She deposits the piece onto his tongue. “Chew.”

Buck chews.

She watches him swallow. “Good?”

“Good,” Buck mutters, feeling like the child he always turns into around his big sister. He scoffs when she holds up his container again, but accepts it willingly anyway, and the two spend the next few minutes scarfing down their dinners next to each other.

Maddie peers at him closely, and after Buck’s gotten a good bit of food in his system, she says, “I don’t know everything, of course, but…yes. Bobby wasn’t in on it for a really long time, but eventually Hen convinced him.”

Buck drops his head into the palms of his hands.

Maddie says quickly, “I really don’t know if I should have told you that. I don’t want you to make any big life decisions based on what Bobby may or may not have wanted for you. You need to do whatever you think is best for you.”

Buck laughs. He can’t help it. “Eddie’s straight, Maddie. It doesn’t matter.”

He bends his head down to inhale more of his food, and for a few moments, the world around him is completely peaceful. When he looks up again, he finds Maddie squinting at him.

“That’s…” She frowns, “…not what I thought you would say?”

“What do you mean,” he mutters.

“Well,” says Maddie slowly. Carefully. “That sounds more like the only thing stopping you is Eddie’s sexuality.”

“What else would there be to stop me?” says Buck, and then he realizes what has just left his mouth. “Oh, shit.”

“Buck—”

“Oh shit,” Buck says again, his eyes going so wide they begin to burn. “Shit. Oh shit. Maddie.”

“Buck,” says Maddie as she inches her seat closer to him until their legs are pressed together. It’s grounding, if only for a few seconds. “Buck, it’s okay. Look at me.” He doesn’t. “Buck.” He can’t. “Evan.”

He looks.

“You’re okay,” his sister says. Her knee bumps against his, and then again, but it’s fruitless, because the world is closing in around him and the sun is beating its wings down onto the ground. He feels hot and mad and thinks he might be going crazy. He knows—he knows he’s going crazy. He would never say something like that out loud if he wasn’t.

“This is not happening to me,” he says, and Maddie’s face twists in sympathy. “I told you this last year. This is the one thing that was never supposed to happen.”

“Why not?” she says, and he looks at her incredulously. “I told you last year, too. It wouldn’t be so crazy.”

“Except it would,” he says. “It would ruin everything.”

She reaches out, covers his hand with her own, and squeezes, gently. “It’s already different now though, isn’t it?”

Which is objectively a terrible thing for her to say in this moment, when Buck feels as if the world has slipped out from under his feet and left him hanging suspended mid-air. When all he can think about is the countless nights he’s spent in Eddie’s living room and the nights Eddie has spent in his. The way he can’t see himself living a life without his best friend right by his side, and the way he wouldn’t want to, either. It is just the capacity of that perpetual spot he could never put into words.

Has it always been this way? Buck doesn’t know. He wonders fleetingly how inevitable this realization was, if it was always simmering in his gut, waiting to pounce out of him with a knife. How it happened one random day in his sister’s kitchen. He thinks about how he is supposed to move forward now and draws a blank. He really has no idea what to do.

Okay, so. Buck may or may not have romantic feelings for his straight best friend.

Perfect. No, really—that’s so, so perfect. That’s exactly what he needs right now, right dab smack on top of everything else. The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley: a tragedy in ninety-seven acts, as Eddie had so succinctly put it last year.

“You look terrible,” says Ravi conversationally from where he’s sitting across from him at the dining table in the firehouse. He’s shovelling spoons of Buck’s penne alla vodka into his mouth, and Buck lets him for approximately five more seconds before snatching the bowl right out from under him. “Hey!”

“Give me that,” Buck mutters before grabbing his own fork and spearing the pasta onto the prongs like a madman. “See if I ever cook for you again.”

Ravi scoffs. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“Oh, yeah?” Buck sticks his tongue out at him. “How’s May, then?”

Immediately, Ravi’s face morphs into a scowl.

“That’s what I thought,” says Buck.

“Low fucking blow, dude,” Ravi says. He peers over Buck’s shoulder, down to the first floor where Harry’s busy scrubbing at the engine with two cloths. His shoulders drop. “I should call her, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably,” says Buck, slurping the rest of Ravi’s lunch down and moving to stand up. “Wow, this was good. Compliments to the chef! Oh, wait a minute, would you look at that. I’m the chef.”

Ravi rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Not whatever. Think about that the next time you feed me life altering information.” Buck gestures to the empty bowl in his hands. “Think about all the delicious pasta on the line. All the cookies and the sourdough and the cinnamon rolls.”

“You’re making cinnamon rolls?” says Eddie as he comes up the stairs.

Buck honest-to-god blanches. His face goes white and he feels the tips of his ears go blindingly hot, which, you know, is already not a very normal reaction to your best friend’s voice coming up behind you. The real problem with this, though, is that he’s still very much facing Ravi. 

So Ravi gets to watch as Buck’s entire face stiffens and his eyes blink rapidly, his stomach swooping a little semicircle as he turns in slow motion to find Eddie staring at him, hands on his hips.

“Hi,” says Buck, like an idiot.

Eddie’s brow climbs upward. “Hi?”

“Um,” says Buck.

“Hello?” says Eddie. “Is that a no on the cinnamon rolls?”

Right. The nonexistent cinnamon rolls. God. “I can make you cinnamon rolls, um, if you want.”

“That’s not what I—” Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. Never mind. Carry on. ‘Sup, Ravs.”

Ravi, the traitor, looks like he’s about half a millisecond away from bursting into the ugliest laughter to ever grace planet earth, and Buck glares at him so hard that if looks could kill, Ravi would disintegrate to ash right then and there.

“‘Sup,” Ravi says instead, much to Buck’s disdain. “I’m sure Buck would love to make you cinnamon rolls, Eds.”

“Eds,” Buck echoes.

“He does make a good cinnamon roll,” Eddie says, nodding in that way of his, when his lips curl a little, halfway between a smug smile and a smirk. The sight of it drips flimsily in Buck’s gut. He looks resolutely away and tries to conjure up sheep to count in his head to stop himself from doing something stupid. He shakes it off.

“Since when do you guys call each other Ravs and Eds?” he says, looking between them. It’s like alternating between panic at Eddie and dripping disdain at Ravi. “Why don’t you guys call me Bucks?”

“Buck is already a nickname, though,” says Eddie, frowning.

Buck gestures madly back at him. “Hello? So is Eddie?”

“Counterpoint,” says Ravi, holding his index finger up. “Bucks sounds stupid.”

“You sound stupid,” says Buck without missing a beat. “And you look stupid with your finger like that. Stop doing that. Stop it.”

“Hmm,” says Ravi, ignoring him. “You know, if you went by your real name, you two could be Evs and Eds. Like your own pharmaceutical company.”

“What?” Buck and Eddie say together.

“Never mind,” says Ravi. “God, you guys are so—”

And then the alarm goes off. Typical.

The call brings them, hilariously, to a bakery, and after they’ve finished with the grease fire, the owner comes out to thank them profusely and offers them anything they want free of charge. Buck glances over to Eddie, who’s chatting with Hen outside by the engine, and two minutes later, he’s standing in front of the counter with two bags full of cinnamon rolls, peering down at them like they’re holding some grand secret to the world’s mysteries.

“Wow,” says Ravi from next to him, and Buck yelps in surprise. “Just. Wow.”

“Hey Ravi, can you point me to where I fucking asked?” says Buck, tucking the bags underneath his arms and turning so that Ravi can’t see them or his face.

This, however, puts him right in front of Harry. “You do know he asked for your cinnamon rolls, not a random bakery’s, right?”

Buck gapes at him. “Where did you come from?”

Harry looks affronted. “I’ve literally been here this entire time?”

“How did you even know about the cinnamon rolls?” Buck demands.

“I was there!” Harry exclaims. “I was in the kitchen behind you guys? Sometimes I just feel like you all don’t realize I’m also a member of this firehouse.”

“Okay, probie,” Ravi scoffs.

“Okay, old man,” Harry scoffs.

“Okay, both of you,” Buck scoffs, stepping away from them in favor of heading towards Eddie and Hen.

Eddie’s eyes go wide when Buck thrusts the bags into his hands, staring between them and Buck’s face in bewilderment. “What’s this?”

“Your damn cinnamon rolls,” he says, and then climbs into the engine without a single look back.

eddie !!!!

[20:04] eddie !!!!: not that i’m complaining about free cinnamon rolls
[20:04] eddie !!!!: but these just aren’t as good as yours :(

[20:05] you: i stg if i have to see or hear the words cinnamon roll even one more time today

[20:05] eddie !!!!: ?
[20:05] eddie !!!!: anyways
[20:05] eddie !!!!: [image: Christopher at the dining table, a fork and a knife in his left and right hands respectively, a cinnamon roll on the plate in front of him]
[20:05] eddie !!!!: chris says thanks, but also that he agrees that yours are better

[20:07] you: ……………
[20:07] you: goddamn it
[20:07] you: i’ll be there in 30

So Buck drives to the grocery store and picks up everything he knows for a fact Eddie doesn’t have already: powdered sugar, cream cheese, and an extra carton of eggs, just to be safe. He stares for a long time at the instant yeast before chucking that in too, because the last thing he needs is two disappointed Diaz faces staring at him with those…those eyes they always have when something or the other doesn’t go their way.

Then he shows up at Eddie’s front door and knocks against it with the front of his boot, and when it starts to open, he barrels right in past Eddie’s surprised face.

“Hi, Buck,” says Christopher from where he’s sitting on the couch, joy con in hand. “I just beat dad on rainbow road, by the way.”

“Did you have to tell him that?” Eddie groans.

Christopher nods seriously. “It’s very vital information.”

“Wow,” says Buck, nodding in approval. “First Scrabble, now Mario Kart. What can’t you do, Chris?”

“I am the one who beat him at Scrabble the other day,” says Eddie. “Don’t you have cinnamon rolls to be making?” His hand reaches out to push against Buck’s back, and immediately, a jolt of electricity zips across his spine, all the way down to his toes. They curl, and for a moment, Buck is infinitely glad he hasn’t taken his shoes off yet.

He passes Eddie the bags of groceries and slips them off, depositing them in their spot—because Buck has a spot on the shoe rack here—before leading the both of them into the kitchen. 

Eddie takes the things out as Buck rummages through the cabinets for the rest of the ingredients. “I have eggs, Buck.”

“Right, but there was a nonzero chance you didn’t, so,” says Buck, and then he rolls up his sleeves and gets to work.

By the time the cinnamon rolls are ready, Christopher is already washed up and ready for bed, and Eddie has switched out his jeans for sleep shorts. Buck is busy with the icing when the two of them slip back into the kitchen, eyes glossy with hunger for dessert. The sight of them makes a laugh punch through Buck’s ribs, and he gladly scoops out two hefty portions into bowls, sliding them over the table and under their waiting smiles.

“I tried a different recipe,” he says as Eddie and Christopher dig in.

“Oh my god,” says Eddie, his eyes fluttering shut, and Buck looks away at the wall. Truly, what an interesting and fun wall this house has. How has Buck never noticed it before? He should really pay more attention to these kinds of things.

“See? I was right,” says Christopher. “These are so much better than the other ones.”

“For the record, those ones were fine,” says Eddie, already reaching for another serving. “They just weren’t…you know.” He shrugs. “Yours.”

Buck smiles. He can’t help it. Despite the week he’s had, these are the people who mean more to him than anything—the people he loves with everything in him. It doesn’t matter if they’re stretching the truth a little, and Buck doesn’t even think they are. He believes them.

So he leans over the table on his elbows and looks between his two favorite people as they scarf down the food he’s made for them and, really, it’s no different from the other four hundred times he’s done this. But it’s almost eleven p.m. and the lemon glow of the lamp is illuminating the flush of Eddie’s cheeks and Buck is in love with him a little. A lot. He couldn’t handle thinking about it before but now he can’t think about anything else.

His want pokes at the seam of his mouth with a ferocity that startles him. He watches as Eddie gathers his and Christopher’s dirty bowls and sets them gently down into the sink. Eddie hooks his finger into the hem of Christopher’s shirt to stop him from galloping away, ruffling his hair between his fingers and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t stay up too late, okay?” he says, and Christopher grins and nods and thanks Buck for the cinnamon rolls and Buck’s chest is burning, everything is on fire, and he might cry if this goes on for any longer.

And then they’re alone—Buck and Eddie. Standing in the kitchen. And Eddie doesn’t even know any of this, Buck thinks as he watches him traipse over to the fridge, sticking his head in. He’s looking for the Brita, and Buck knows this because he knows everything about Eddie. 

“Hey,” he says, and it comes out weak even to his own ears. “Did you know everyone has a bet on us?”

Eddie turns around, his nose slightly pink from the fridge. “What?”

Buck swallows. He has no idea what he’s doing right now. He just needs to say it. He needs to get the words out into the air between them so they can deal with it and Buck isn’t terrifyingly alone in this. 

“Everyone has a bet on us,” he says again, watching as a frown begins to form across the curve of Eddie’s mouth. “About when we’re going to get together.”

He thinks about screwing his eyes shut but none of his muscles can move. He’s frozen in place. Frozen in time. Waiting and waiting and—

“Oh,” says Eddie, and then, “Wait, you just found out about that?”

Silence.

“What?” says Buck.

“What?” says Eddie.

“Wait, what?” says Buck.

“What what?” says Eddie.

“Hold on,” says Buck. “What?”

“Okay shut up, stop saying what,” says Eddie.

Buck’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Like a stupid fucking fish. “What do you mean, I just found out? You already knew about it?”

“Buck,” says Eddie, slowly, like he’s trying to piece together whatever is happening right now too. At least he seems a lot more put together about it. Personally Buck’s entire world is currently tilting by about forty degrees on its axis. “It’s been a thing for, like, eight years.”

“Well I know that now,” says Buck, throwing his hands up into the air. He groans. “I can’t believe I’ve been killing myself over this for weeks and this entire time you already—” He thrashes his arms out in front of him. “You already knew about it! And you’re being normal about it? What the hell is wrong with you, Eddie?”

“I should be asking you that,” says Eddie, and then the fridge timer bleeps. Both of them flinch, and Eddie groans and pushes the door shut with the back of his foot. “Is this why you’ve been so…so…lately?”

“I’ve been so what?” says Buck.

“So!” says Eddie.

“No!” says Buck.

“What?” says Eddie.

“Okay,” says Buck. “Shut up. How long have you known about it for?”

“Let’s see,” says Eddie, and then he makes a big dramatic show of counting on his fingers. His fingers. One two three four five. “Five years, give or take a couple months.”

“There is just no way you just said those words to me. You’re playing a prank on me right now and it’s literally not funny at all.”

“Now why the hell would I be playing a prank on you?”

“I didn’t even know I was bi five years ago,” Buck says. His arms have now been promoted to waving wildly around above him. “Five years ago you were dating Ana!”

“Who?” says Eddie.

“Chris’ teacher!”

“Ohh,” says Eddie. He nods. “Right, yes I was.”

Buck’s jaw drops. “You are not being serious right now!”

“Stop saying that!” says Eddie. “And stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out!”

“Buck!” Eddie’s hands have somehow found their place on both of Buck’s shoulders, his fingers pressing into his skin. It burns a little where they’re touching. They are both breathing so hard it’s the only thing Buck can hear, the rest of the world engulfed behind the ringing in his ears. “I mean it. Calm down.” Buck’s mouth snaps shut. Eddie is so close it’s terrifying. “Yes, I’ve known about the bet for a couple of years. No, I’ve never let it affect anything between us or how I treat you. Okay?”

Buck nods numbly. “Okay.”

“Good.” Eddie returns the nod, then lets go of him. Buck chases the phantom feeling of his hands and then contemplates burying himself alive in the backyard.

“Why didn’t you…” He swallows. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Eddie looks at him. Just looks. And Buck’s mouth snaps shut because, yeah.

“Point taken,” he says, dropping his head. “How did you even find out?”

“Actually, now that you mention it…” Eddie frowns, searching. “I’m pretty sure Ana was the one who told me. I think she was at the firehouse one time when I wasn’t there, and everyone was talking about it. Huh.” He shakes his head. “Well. That at least kind of explains the fallout of that relationship.”

He sighs, then grabs for the Brita—forgotten long ago on the kitchen counter—to pour himself a glass of water. Buck stares at him. He can’t stop staring at him. One, because this whole situation is ridiculous, and two, because the tips of Eddie’s ears have turned the shade of a rose. He’s tipping the cold glass back against his lips and his fingers are gripping at the condensation. 

Something shifts. Eddie’s nails bend against the surface of the glass.

Buck takes a step closer to him. “What do you mean?”

Eddie wipes flimsily at his mouth before finding Buck’s eyes again. “Ah?”

“I mean,” says Buck, “why would Ana knowing about the bet explain the fallout of your relationship?”

“Oh,” says Eddie. “Um.”

He makes one of his faces then—the one where his entire face pinches, and his brows shoot upward, lips pursing like he can will Buck to understand whatever the hell he’s saying intuitively. And, usually, Buck can understand what he’s saying intuitively. Just not right now. He has no idea what the fuck is going on right now.

“Oh,” says Buck slowly. His head feels like it’s on an endless carousel, spinning around and around and around. “Eddie. Can I tell you something?”

“Always,” says Eddie.

“The reason Tommy broke up with me,” says Buck, and Eddie suddenly goes very, very still. “He said, um, he was talking about how if he moves in with me, I’ll end up breaking his heart.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Eddie murmurs.

“Yeah, well.” Buck shrugs. “He was talking about how he’s my…first. Not my last. And then I…a few months later when you were in Texas and I was still moving into your place even though it had been weeks at that point but I couldn’t deal with the thought of unpacking because it meant—” He cuts himself off to groan up at the ceiling. “It meant that you and Chris weren’t going to come back. And I—” Oh, god. “Well, he came over, and then he tried to get back together with me because, and I quote, the competition was out of the way.”

He can’t look at Eddie. He can’t look and see the expression he’s making right now. There’s a reason the only person he told this to was Maddie. He doesn’t want to see Eddie’s reaction to this.

“And I asked him what he meant and he. Well. He meant you. Because I was living in your house. Even though I told him that it wasn’t your house because you’re a renter, and also you’re straight so it’s not like anything would ever happen between us anyways no matter how much I want—”

“About that,” Eddie cuts in, followed by absolutely nothing else.

Buck’s brows furrow. “About what?”

“That,” says Eddie, and again: nothing.

“You’re not a renter?” says Buck. He looks around the house, frowning. “Since when? Did you buy this place? I feel like you would have told me that, right?”

“Buck,” says Eddie, and now he sounds exasperated. “No, I did not buy this place. I’m still a renter, and also I’m gay.”

He closes his mouth. And he stares at Buck unflinchingly.

And, see, Buck hears the words. They definitely go in at least one ear. They just also probably float right out through the other, because the only thing he can think to say in response to that is, “Hah?”

Eddie winces, as if he too has just processed what he’s just said, his shoulders curling inward for a split second. His eyes dart away. He swallows visibly. And Buck suddenly snaps to attention because it registers that, fuck, this is a really big deal, and he is absolutely, one hundred percent completely blowing it right now. 

So, before Eddie can say anything else, Buck amends his hah with an “Oh,” which isn’t much better but at least he’s not just stupidly standing there, staring at him like an idiot.

He has to do something. He has to move.

He takes a step back. Then he says, “Okay.”

Eddie looks amused now. “Just okay?”

“Well it was more…hah. Then oh. Then okay.”

“Right, of course,” says Eddie.

Buck squints at him. “You seem remarkably calm about this.”

“I am,” says Eddie. “Well, as much as I can be. I did all of my panicking and brooding when I was in El Paso.”

Buck stares at him. “When you were in El Paso.”

Eddie shifts, his weight traveling from one foot to the other. His hip marks an indent in the kitchen counter, and he crosses his arms over his chest, then nods, just once. “Being away from you really fucking sucked. I don’t think I realized how much I relied on you until you weren’t by my side every day.”

Buck thinks he short circuits. He’s already been struck by lightning once but this might just be the same thing. What is the statistical probability of being struck by lightning twice?

Because that’s not—that sounds like—

“But you said you had to be with Chris,” he whispers.

“I did,” says Eddie. “Two things can be true at once, you know.”

“Then what about Ana?” says Buck, and it comes out harder, more desperate. He swallows and tries to recenter. “The bet and ending things with her.”

“I think that’s when it entered my subconscious.”

“What did?” says Buck. “You being gay? Or…me?”

Eddie’s eyes sometimes do this thing where they’re smiling, even though the rest of his face is perfectly flat, perfectly normal, like there is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary at all. They smile like that then, here. Like they are not having what is probably the most important conversation of their entire relationship right now.

“You,” Eddie says, and Buck thinks he dies right then and there. “The gay part came later, I think.”

Buck protests, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Believe me, I know.”

“So, what?” Buck says. “Are you saying that you’ve been in love with me for five years?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Eddie says, and he’s trying to be serious, but the corners of his mouth are fighting ruthlessly against a smile, and Buck’s heart is racing, and racing, and he thinks his ribs are going to explode, and his ears are going to burn, and his face is going to cleave in half. “Something like that.”

“Something like that,” Buck echoes, and then again, “Something like that.”

The lack of denial is pointing at his chest with a knife. Eddie has two seconds to take it back before Buck does something crazy. “You…” 

One.

Two.

Eddie hasn’t moved at all. He hasn’t made a single sound. Buck steps forward, finally, and reaches up to cup the sides of his face between his palms. He searches Eddie’s eyes for a split second and finds that they’re still smiling. Grinning now, even, and he looks so content like this, like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but in Buck’s arms right now. His chin points upward towards Buck’s face, and he looks like he loves him—really, truly loves him.

“I love you too,” Buck stutters out. His fingers are shaking against Eddie’s skin. “I—I haven’t known for as long as you have, or I don’t know, maybe I have, but I—I love you too, Eddie. So much. Oh my god, so much. You make me crazy.” And then he kisses him.

Eddie inhales against the bridge of Buck’s nose as his head tips backward, and Buck’s grip around his jaw tightens. They stand like that in the middle of the kitchen, kissing against the rim of the sink, until Eddie’s hands unstick themselves from his sides and he’s grabbing across Buck’s spine and burying his fingers in Buck’s curls, pulling him impossibly closer. Buck gasps against Eddie’s open mouth and thinks oh, this is it. This is it, right here, with Eddie. This kitchen. This house. This life they’ve built for themselves, constantly and forever intertwined together. 

He breaks away, panting, laughing when he sees Eddie lean forward to chase his lips. 

“By the way, and I’m an idiot for forgetting to mention this,” Buck says, “but thank you for trusting me with coming out. I’m really proud of you.”

Eddie smiles and kisses him again. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I know.”

“I just feel like I should be getting some sort of compensation for this,” Ravi announces over lunch at the firehouse.

Buck looks up from where he’s nestled against Eddie’s side on the couch, watching over his shoulder as Eddie scrolls through his Instagram feed. They’re trying to stalk Christopher’s reposts but failing miserably. Who on earth thought to design an app in the most confusing way possible? 

“Absolutely not,” he says. “I veto this proposition.”

“Um,” says Ravi with emphasis, pointing his index finger up towards the ceiling. “Let’s not forget that it’s because of me we even got here in the first place, actually. Also, I wasn’t asking you.”

“You and that stupid pointing—”

“We would have gotten here without you Ravs,” Eddie says without looking up from his phone. He’s busy fiddling with one of the buttons on Christopher’s profile. Buck stares at his side profile for a long few seconds before he breaks out into a goofy little grin.

“Wow,” says Hen.

“Ugh,” says Chimney.

“So, who won the bet?” says Harry, and, right. Buck almost forgot about the bet. The bet!

“You’re right!” he says quickly. He looks between the lot of them. “Who won?”

“Hold, please,” Hen says before taking her phone out of her pocket in a dramatic flourish. They all watch as she clicks around a bit, and then, finally, she showcases her screen: a shared Excel file, by the looks of it. “Okay, let’s see,” she says, peering down at the list. “Chim, you said next year, so you lost.”

“Ugh,” says Chimney again.

“Harry, you said in two years, which is so terrible I can’t even fake pity for you.”

Harry puts his hands up. “I just joined the team! How was I supposed to know they were like—” He gestures vaguely to Buck and Eddie, still leaning against each other on the couch. “That!”

Buck sticks his tongue out at him. Harry mirrors the gesture.

“I said December,” Hen is continuing, “May said September, Ravi said August, and Athena said next month. Wow.”

“What the hell?” says Buck. “Athena’s in this too? Wait.” He remembers something then. “When did Bobby say it would happen?”

All eyes turn to Hen. She scrolls a little, then says, “March fifth.” 

Ravi’s brows pinch together. “That’s…oddly specific. What’s on March fifth?”

Hen grins at him. “That’s the date of the firefighter games, of course.”

Jesus Christ, Buck thinks.

“Wow,” says Ravi, looking vaguely impressed. He turns to them and gives him a once-over. “Are you guys supposed to be sharing a hotel room there or something?”

“Shut it, Ravi,” says Buck.

“Oh, wait,” Hen pipes up, and then she’s silent for about ten seconds before bursting into laughter. 

“What?” says Buck impatiently. “What is it? Spit it out, Hen.”

“I’ve got the winner,” says Hen, clicking her phone off and pocketing it once again. She looks around at the waiting eyes, then throws her arms up into the air and announces: “Christopher Diaz!”

Silence.

“What?” Eddie exclaims, jumping up to his feet.

“Seriously?” says Ravi. “That’s what gets you to finally contribute to this conversation?”

“Since when was Chris a part of this?” Eddie demands.

Hen shrugs. “Since two days ago, apparently.”

Eddie is gaping at her. “What?”

“Yep, he put in twenty dollars for by the end of this week,” she nods, passing him her phone. Eddie snatches it immediately, bringing it up to his face to squint at the screen.

“Wait a goddamn minute,” Buck says, and then he gasps so loudly it rips at his throat. “Those are my twenty dollars! He asked me for it when we were at the store the other day! The day I made you guys the noodles!”

Eddie sputters, “Why the hell are you giving him money without even asking him what it’s for?”

“Well how was I supposed to know he would use it to betray us?”

“Don’t give him money unless you know what he’s using it for!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from you. I’d like to see you say no to him when he’s looking at you like he looked at me when he asked for that twenty.”

“Well what if he’s in some kind of trouble, huh?”

“You think I didn’t think of that? Who do you think I am? He said that if he was in trouble he’d be asking me for way more!”

“Even if he did ask for more you’d give it to him anyway, wouldn’t you!”

“Again, I’d like to see you—”

“SHUT UP,” says Chimney.

They shut up.

Chimney huffs. “Both of you make me sick,” he informs them. “Now come with me. I have paperwork you need to sign.”

He sets off in the direction of the captain’s office, and Buck and Eddie exchange a look. They will definitely be talking about the Chris of it all later, judging by Eddie’s disgruntled expression, but for now, as Chimney so eloquently put it, they have paperwork to do. For their newfound togetherness. The thought makes Buck smile, and when he finds Eddie’s eyes again, there’s a smile there, too.