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It’s one of those shifts that has everyone going a little insane. The type where everything looks calm, but in reality the entire 118 is about 0.2 seconds away from climbing the station walls. They’re on hour thirteen of twenty-four and haven’t had a call since hour two. And even that was just a cat stuck in a tree. It’s almost enough to have someone deliberately pulling out the q-word, just to give them something to do.
Chim is bent over the dining table with paperwork Buck is sure he would’ve happily avoided another month or two. Hen hasn’t looked up from her book in about an hour. Ravi has been on the phone with Lord knows who for at least as long, pacing the bit of the loft with the pool table aggressively enough that no one has dared to step foot in his general vicinity in the last twenty minutes. Not after Harry came back looking a little disturbed from his attempt to get to the flipper game Buck is sure no one has touched in years – probably since Chim made Chris play it the very first time he came to the firehouse.
Meanwhile, Buck is on his third batch of cookies. It’s a win-win situation, he tells himself. The baking gives him something to do and the cookies are something everyone benefits from. Right?
Well, at the very least Eddie seems to agree. He’s sitting at the counter, happily munching on a chocolate chip cookie from batch one while he scrolls on his phone, only tearing his gaze away from the screen long enough to dip the cookie in his glass of milk every few minutes. Buck silently smiles to himself. He knew Eddie would love that batch. Buck used his favorite dark chocolate and added a healthy amount of cinnamon, plus a dash of cayenne pepper, just like Eddie's Abuela taught him.
It could almost feel peaceful. If they weren’t all firefighters who know exactly that any kind of peace is deceptive and will be disrupted in the most un-peaceful way possible as soon as they let themselves feel too safe in it.
Which is exactly what happens. Just... not the way Buck thinks. He’s half-expecting a five-alarm fire or another natural disaster – they've had suspiciously few of those lately. But instead, the thing that sets chaos into motion is the innocent ping of a cellphone somewhere in the distance. On the coffee table, to be more exact, judging by the way Hen lifts her eyes off her book.
“Eddie, you’ve got a message,” she calls out casually, eyes already back on her page.
Eddie turns around with a mouthful of cookie, a quizzical lift of his eyebrow and a quick wave of his phone. “That’s not me, my phone’s right here.”
Hen stops mid-page-turn and lets her gaze wander back to the phone on the coffee table even though the screen must’ve long gone dark again. “Then why was I just looking at a picture of your kid?”
Buck freezes, dough sticking to his hands.
Oh.
Oh no.
Hen seems to notice the shift in his demeanor almost instantly. Curse her for being so perceptive even across the whole damn loft.
“So if it’s not yours...” Her eyes draw a line from Eddie to Buck and Buck very quickly tries to go back to shaping his cookies.
Maybe a little too quickly, judging by the far too amused “Ohh” it draws from Chimney. Buck swears he can hear the guy’s grin, even in that one syllable.
Meanwhile, Eddie has gone suspiciously quiet. Buck doesn’t dare look at him.
And of course, as if this whole thing wasn’t bad enough already, Ravi chooses this exact moment to pocket his phone and walk back over to them. He stops short a few paces in, taking in the situation unfolding in front of him with a tilt of his head. “Do I wanna know why everyone’s staring at Buck?”
Harry makes non-committal noise somewhere at the edge of Buck’s attention, suggesting he doesn’t quite understand what’s going on either.
“Or why Eddie looks like he’s seen a ghost?” Ravi continues, oblivious to the fact that Buck is currently trying to shut him up by the power of telepathic skills he does not possess.
Buck can’t resist any longer then. He risks a quick glance at Eddie. And sure enough, he’s staring at absolutely nothing, cookie floating somewhere halfway between the counter and his mouth, looking like the milk-soaked side will crack off and fall into his lap any second now.
Shit.
“We might’ve just found out that Buck has a picture of Christopher as his lockscreen,” Hen explains. When Buck turns to her, there’s something curious in her expression. A little like she’s watching a nature documentary unfold in real life.
“No, you didn’t,” Buck argues. Because they didn’t find out anything. They can’t prove that’s his phone. They can’t even prove that was a picture of Chris. Maybe Hen just needs to get her eyes checked. Maybe she needs a new prescription. Maybe–
Chim’s grin turns almost predatory in Buck’s peripheral vision. “You know, there’s a very easy way to prove this,” he suggests faux-casually. And then he pulls his phone out of his pocket. Buck’s brain short-circuits the second Chim’s plan starts to dawn on him.
Before he knows it, Chim has typed a quick text and Buck’s phone chimes on the coffee table. Buck doesn’t need to see it to know that it lights up with a picture of Chris laughing that brighter-than-sunshine laugh of his.
He took the photo about a year ago, a few weeks before the whole Texas debacle, when he took Chris to one of his surfing lessons while Eddie picked up an extra shift. It’s his favorite photo of Chris. Actually, it’s his favorite photo, period. It’s just so… carefree and happy and silly. Chris in his surf suit, curls wet and sticking up in twelve different directions, the California sun lighting up his face as he laughs at something his instructor said and looks over to see if Buck heard it too.
“Yup, that sure is Christopher,” Ravi deadpans, him and Harry both bent over the coffee table, not even trying to look nonchalant about it. At least Hen and Chim have the decency to stay in their seats.
“You really have a picture of Eddie’s kid as your lockscreen?” Harry asks as if there’s any more confirmation needed.
Buck almost jumps when Eddie moves on the other side of the kitchen island. He doesn’t look at Buck. Just walks over to the coffee table with a calm that’s very clearly only half-real. The screen must’ve gone black again at this point, but Eddie just picks up the phone and hits the home button to make it light up again.
He goes awfully still as he studies the photo.
Buck’s legs move entirely of their own accord, carrying him all the way to back of the couch from where he can see the way Eddie keeps staring at the screen even after it plunges into darkness once again.
Then Eddie’s arm goes slack, the hand with Buck’s phone falling to his side as he turns to face him.
“It’s a good picture,” he says, tone and expression unreadable in a way they rarely are, at least to Buck.
“Yeah,” Buck mutters back.
After an hour or a minute or maybe just a second Eddie hands him his phone across the back of the couch. Buck takes it. And then Eddie goes back to his seat at the counter and picks up another cookie.
“What the hell did we just witness?” Harry mutters somewhere behind Buck.
Chim snorts. “Just Buck and Eddie being Buck and Eddie.”
Ravi pats Harry’s shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll get used to it eventually.”
***
Eddie gets awfully quiet after that. Not quiet enough for anyone to call him out on it, but quiet enough for Buck to get that uneasy feeling in his chest that tells him he fucked up bad this time.
By midnight, most of the team has staggered off towards the bunk room, desperately hoping that this menace of a shift will at least stay slow throughout the night now too. They all know they probably won’t get that lucky.
Eddie doesn’t join them though. Buck watched him go up to the roof about an hour ago and he hasn’t come back down since.
Hen is the last one to make her way towards the bunks. Not before laying a gentle hand on Buck’s shoulder where he’s staring at the door though. “You should talk to him,” she says. And then she leaves before Buck even gets a chance to pretend he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.
And the thing is, Buck knows she’s right. He knows he needs to talk to Eddie and make sure he’s not actually mad.
But what if he is? What if Buck’s gut is right for once? What if he did overstep? What would that mean for their friendship, for his relationship with Christopher, for his time with the Diaz boys? He cannot lose that. Cannot lose them over something as stupid as a lockscreen. He–
His spiral comes to screeching halt when the door to the roof opens with a slow creak. Buck didn’t even realize he ended up right in front of it until Eddie is standing there like a deer in headlights, mere inches away.
“Hey,” Buck says, eloquent as ever.
“Hey.”
Something about Eddie’s face, about the breathiness of his voice, about his overcast eyes makes Buck’s stomach churn.
“Can we…,” he motions towards the staircase behind Eddie, “…talk?”
Eddie takes a deep breath and Buck can feel his hesitation like a physical thing.
“Yeah.”
Buck isn’t quite sure if he’s glad or terrified.
***
The roof is as serene as it gets in LA. Wind pulls at their uniforms, city lights pollute their view of the stars, traffic rushes on below them like it’s not past midnight on a random Tuesday. Eddie steps close enough to the edge to look out at the never-ending chaos below them. Buck trails after him, shoving his hands into his pockets to stop himself from fidgeting the way he has for the past hour.
“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, the words feeling heavy on his tongue.
“You’re sorry?” Eddie turns around to him with a raised eyebrow. “For what?”
“For the whole lockscreen thing from earlier.”
For an agonizing minute, Eddie doesn’t say anything. Just considers him with an expression Buck can’t quite place. He’s basically ready to climb the non-existent walls by the time he asks, “How long?”.
“What?”
“How long have you had that photo as your lockscreen?”
Buck’s brain short-circuits a little. Because Eddie doesn’t sound upset. He doesn’t even look upset. He looks painfully neutral, actually. Almost too neutral. Like he’s purposefully schooling his features into not giving anything away. That’s not something he usually does around Buck. It’s–
“Buck.” Eddie’s hand lands on Buck’s shoulder. The same spot where Buck is pretty sure he already has a permanent divot in the shape of Eddie’s fingers. The one that’s like a magic button to make all of Buck’s thoughts disappear. “Stop spiraling. I’m not mad at you.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
The tiniest smile appears on Eddie’s face as he lowers his hand again. Buck mourns the warmth almost immediately.
“Will you answer my question now?”
Right. The question.
Buck swallows. “Since Texas.”
Eddie can’t quite hide the surprise in his expression. And Buck can’t even blame him.
“I took the photo a few weeks before… you know.” Before Kim. Before Eddie’s parents showed up. Before everything fell apart. “I really liked it. I meant to send it to you and see if maybe you wanted to put it on your fridge, but then…”
“But then Chris left and you didn’t want to remind me of that,” Eddie murmurs more to himself than to Buck.
“Yeah.”
“So then you made it your lockscreen?”
Buck nods. Tentative. Still a little scared of the turns this conversation could take. “After you left to get him back, I just… I just missed him so much, Eddie.” And then, even quieter, because now the dam is broken, “I missed you both.”
Before he knows it, he’s being pulled against Eddie’s chest. “We missed you too.”
Buck presses his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, his cheek coming to rest against the worn fabric of his LAFD shirt. “You did?”
“Of course we did.” Eddie pulls back, but his palm stays planted against Buck’s shoulder, right where it belongs. Buck swallows hard, fighting the tightness that’s crawling through his chest and up his throat, all the way to his watery eyes.
“Why didn’t you change it after we came back?”
Buck shrugs, the movement dislodging Eddie’s hand a little, but Eddie just settles it back in place.
He cycles through a million different versions of I don’t know in his head. But in the end, what comes out is, “Because I like it.” A simple truth that feels anything but simple in the grand scheme of things. “I like knowing that he’s always right there to make me smile.”
Eddie doesn’t respond. He hardly even reacts. He just keeps looking at Buck with his doe eyes and keeps his hand on his shoulder and–
“I’m sorry. I genuinely didn’t realize how weird that was until everyone pointed it out.” The words have left Buck’s mouth before the thought has even fully formed.
Eddie’s thumb absentmindedly sweeps over the skin above Buck’s collar before his whole hand slides down to rest right over his heart. “That’s the thing,” he says and Buck has half a mind to question if he can feel how fast his pulse has suddenly gotten. “I didn’t think it was weird.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.” Eddie raises his shoulders in something that maybe could’ve been a shrug in another life. “It probably should feel weird. I mean, why would you choose Chris over Jee or a group photo or a pretty landscape or literally anything else?”
“Eddie–“
“I mean, not even I have Chris as my lockscreen.”
Buck can’t quite hold back the crooked smirk. “That’s because you probably don’t even know how to change it, Mr. Allergic-to-technology.”
“Not the point,” Eddie warns.
“So what is the point?”
“The point is that it felt right.”
Buck feels the whole world around them stop. The wind suddenly becomes less chilly, the city lights become less bright, the traffic comes to a halt. Everything narrows down to Eddie and the implication he can’t possibly mean.
“It did?” Buck’s voice sounds foreign even to his own ears.
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, his eyes drifting down from Buck’s face to his own hand still resting over Buck’s too-fast heartbeat. “It makes sense for you to choose him, because he’s just as much your kid as he is mine.”
Buck’s breath gets caught in his throat. “Eddie–“
“Buck.” Eddie’s fingers press a little more firmly against his chest – grounding, settling, anchoring them both. “I mean it. You’ve been in his life longer than Shannon has at this point.” His voice is barely more than a whisper, but Buck hears every word like it’s blaring through the station speakers.
“But that doesn’t–“
“That doesn’t make you a parent, I know. But the way you show up does.” His thumb starts drawing gentle arcs through Buck’s sweater, each one leaving a new layer of goosebumps. “You’re the one he runs to when he feels like he can’t talk to me. You’re the one he missed most in El Paso. You’re the one he got his endless curiosity from. You’re the one who taught him his twenty-five-step hair routine.”
“Curls need a lot of care,” Buck mumbles weakly, the picture of a sceptic 12-year-old Chris surrounded by every single one of Buck’s hair products still fresh in his mind.
“I know.” Buck isn’t sure if he’s ever seen a smile this soft on Eddie’s face before. “You know, there was a time when he used to hate his curls. But then you came along and told him how great they are and that they just need a little love and suddenly he’s got the confidence of a Hollywood star.”
Buck can’t help but smile.
“Buck, you and I are the only people in this world he trusts unconditionally.” Eddie huffs a humorless laugh. “Hell, after everything that happened with Kim, I might not even be on that list anymore.”
“Eddie, don’t–“
“I know,” Eddie says. And Buck trusts that he does. Because Eddie always knows what he’s going to say. Because Eddie knows him better than he knows himself.
“I didn’t mean to overstep,” Buck whispers, because it feels like the only safe thought in his brain.
“That’s the thing,” Eddie says again, voice soft as the throw blanket he keeps on his couch that Buck has slept under more times than he can count. “You didn’t. You just… stepped up. You grew into the role of his second parent so seamlessly that I didn’t even realize it until it was held right under my nose.”
Buck opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.
“He loves you, Buck.”
“I love him too,” Buck whispers, his voice breaking halfway through.
“I know.”
Eddie takes a step forward, putting them so close that Buck can feel his breath against his skin, that he can almost feel his pulse, that–
The alarm is loud and sudden enough to make them both jump, the siren wailing and the warning light tinting everything in flickering red.
“Come on,” Eddie says, tugging Buck back towards the door by the sleeve of his shirt.
***
They don’t get even a minute alone for the rest of shift, because that’s the unwritten rule of firefighting – the alarm only stays silent for as long as you don’t want it to. And when it’s not the alarm, it’s restocking the rigs, or Chim annoying them about paperwork, or Harry asking Buck to spot him in the gym. Buck very purposefully doesn’t ask why Harry is even working out after a 2-hour call in the first place, because it seems to have something to do with him trying to avoid Ravi and he definitely does not want to get in the middle of whatever those two have going on. He’s pretty sure he overheard Harry say something about having seen Ravi naked earlier and that was already far more than he needed to know.
One way or another, he finds himself on the Diaz couch at 8:30 in the morning. He’s honestly not even sure how he got here, but it involved Eddie bumping their shoulders together in the locker room and asking Buck to follow him home. And then, before Buck could even blink, he was already parking his Jeep in Eddie’s driveway and following him through the open front door like a golden retriever puppy.
“Coffee?”
“Yes please.”
And so they end up on the couch by 9 am, both cradling chipped mugs and not really saying much, because they both know there’s something hanging between them, but it seems that neither of them really knows how to address it.
Great. Incredible. Not awkward at all.
And to add insult to injury, Chim chooses that exact moment to send next week’s schedule into the 118 group chat, making Buck’s phone come alive where he left it on the coffee table. Christopher’s grin lights up the living room.
“It really is a good photo,” Eddie muses.
“Yeah.”
The screen goes dark again, which Eddie seems to take as his cue to set his mug down next to it and turn fully towards Buck. Buck’s heart picks up its pace before his brain has even fully registered the movement.
“I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you with my whole speech earlier.”
Buck almost laughs. “You mean the one where you called me Christopher’s second parent at one in the morning?” God, saying it himself feels even more surreal than hearing Eddie say it. “Yeah, no, not overwhelming at all.”
The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches upward.
“Yeah, that one,” Eddie confirms. “I know that was a lot, but…” He scrubs one hand over his face. “But I meant it.”
“Eddie–“
For the umpteenth time, Eddie doesn’t give him a chance to finish. “I don’t know how it took me this long to realize, but Chris already looks at you like you’re his parent. And I–“ He takes a breath and averts his gaze for just a second before fixing Buck in place with a single look. “I don’t want that to be some unspoken thing anymore.”
Disbelief settles somewhere deep in Buck’s chest. “You want me to be Chris’s parent?”
“You already are Chris’s parent,” Eddie corrects. “What I want is for us to stop dancing around this because we’re too scared to name it.”
Does he… Is he saying… He couldn’t be… Right?
Buck opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, because the thoughts are gone again before he can get a grip on them and because Eddie can’t possibly mean this the way it sounds and–
As always, a single touch is enough to stop the spiral. This time, it’s Eddie’s hand on Buck’s thigh, the grounding warmth of his palm seeping through Buck’s sweatpants and relaxing the muscles underneath.
“Correct me if I’m misreading this,” Eddie says, the nerves now clear in his usually so cool, calm, collected voice. “But I feel like what we’ve built here is not a typical friendship. You’re our family, Buck.”
“You’re mine too.” The truth slips out before Buck can think better of it.
It earns him a soft smile.
“I keep thinking about Shannon,” Eddie continues after a brief pause. “And about every woman I’ve dated since. And about how I never really managed to build a life with any of them.” Eddie smiles the tiniest of self-deprecating smiles as he pulls his hand back. Buck fights the urge to grab it and put it back. “For a while I thought I was just doomed to be alone. That I’ll never be able to let anyone into mine and Christopher’s lives like that.”
“Eddie, that’s not–“
That’s not true, is what he meant to say, but Eddie cuts him off with a gesture.
“And then I saw that photo on your lockscreen and realized that I already have. I let you into our lives. Without even really noticing.”
Buck’s lungs lock up for good this time, he’s sure of it.
“I don’t want to build a family with anyone else, because I already have one with you.”
When Eddie looks up at him, there’s a kind of vulnerability in his eyes that Buck has never seen before. He wants to commit every facet of it to memory, wants to keep it close to his heart, wants to make sure no one can ever hurt this version of Eddie.
“Are you saying…?” Buck doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have the guts to. Because if he gets this wrong…
“I’m saying that I want you to be more than my best friend. Hell, I think you already are more than my best friend.” Buck is sure that Eddie has to feel the beat of his heart reverberating through the couch cushions at this point. “I want you to be my partner in every sense of the word and I want to keep building this life with you, because I cannot imagine doing that with anyone else.”
There’s about a million things Buck could say. A million thoughts running rampant in his brain. A million ways to tell Eddie that, yes, fuck, this is what he wants too, even if he never really let himself look at it like that before. What comes out instead is, “But you’re straight.”
Great job, Buck. Way to ruin the moment.
Eddie’s laugh is more surprise than anything else. “Yeah, about that,” he chuckles. “I think that ship sailed a long time ago. Took me a little while to catch up though.”
“So you’re…?”
Exasperation joins amusement in Eddie’s eyes – a combination Buck is very well-acquainted with. “Do you need me spell it out for you?”
Buck nods at the rug beneath his feet, a little helpless.
Eddie’s smile softens again as he takes hold of Buck’s jaw to redirect his gaze.
“I’m not straight,” he says, as if it’s the simplest truth in the world. “And I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”
Every thought in Buck’s head goes silent all at once. He never thought this was an option. He always told himself he couldn’t be in love with Eddie, because he refused to be the cliché queer guy who was hopelessly pining after his straight best friend.
But Eddie isn’t straight.
And Eddie is in love with him.
Eddie wants to build a life with him.
Eddie wants to keep building a life together.
And Buck…
Buck has never wanted anything more in his life.
Before he even really knows what’s happening, he feels Eddie’s hair beneath his fingertips and then he’s pulling him in and suddenly Eddie’s lips are right there, moving against his own.
Kissing Eddie is a fucking revelation and the most natural thing in the world at the same time. Like something finally clicks into place the moment they stop pretending.
Eddie fits against him like a puzzle piece, their bodies slotting together like they were never meant to be separated. He tastes like coffee and the scrambled egg they stole from B shift on their way out of the station and something so distinctly Eddie that it makes Buck’s head spin.
And when Buck lets his hand settle more securely at the back of Eddie’s neck, he feels cool metal under his fingertips. The chain that carries the St. Christopher medal beneath Eddie’s shirt, keeps it securely tucked against his chest, right over his heart.
Fuck.
How did it take him so long to realize that he loves this man when kissing him feels this right? When the sheer thought of building a life with him and Chris makes his heart swell at least three sizes? When all it takes to make goosebumps coat his entire body is Eddie’s lips on his and cool metal under his fingers?
“Eddie,” he mumbles against his lips once they come up for air. It’s the only coherent thought his brain can currently conjure up.
“So, I take it that means we’re on the same page?” Eddie grins, his face all flushed and pretty and downright radiant.
Buck laughs, the sound rippling through both of them like a physical vibration.
“Yeah.”
And right on cue, his phone chimes on the table, Chris’s face beaming up at them once again. It’s a message from Chris himself this time, texting in his break to see if Buck is coming over tonight to watch the new episode of the docuseries on bees they started last week – one Eddie vetoed at first, the memory of being chased by a whole swarm of them apparently still a little too fresh in his memory.
Buck sends back a quick yes and then pulls Eddie in for another kiss.
***
Two weeks later, they’re suffering through another painfully slow shift. There’s a tin of Buck’s chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table, Hen and Chim are in the middle of a heated Mario Kart battle, and Harry and Ravi – who seem to have worked through whatever weird thing they had going on – are playing pool somewhere behind them.
And Buck and Eddie…
Well, Eddie is being squished into the backrest of one of the armchairs because Buck decided to sprawl half on top of him. Eddie doesn’t exactly complain though, instead opting to wrap his arms around Buck’s middle and press a kiss to the side of his neck. No one else even bats an eye. They’ve already gotten used to the fact that personal space has entirely stopped existing between them.
“There you go,” Buck says, a crooked smirk on his face as he hands Eddie’s phone back.
As it turns out, Buck was in fact right when he assumed Eddie had no idea how to change his lockscreen.
“You don’t have to be so smug about it.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“What are you two arguing about now?” Hen chimes in from the couch just as Chim curses because he lost another round.
“I had to change Eddie’s lockscreen for him because he doesn’t know how.”
Chim looks up from his controller. “Oh, that’s bad, even for you, Diaz.”
“I hate all of you,” Eddie grumbles.
“Nah, you love me.” Buck turns his head just enough to steal a quick, safe-for-work kiss.
“Unfortunately,” Eddie replies, though his annoyance gives way to a smile a little too quickly for it to have been real in the first place.
“You two are disgusting,” Hen comments as Chim cues up the next race. “I’m so happy for you.”
Buck leans back in for another kiss, this one with an exaggerated mwah, just for the hell of it. Hen shakes her head with a grin just as Eddie’s phone pings with a message where it’s resting against his thigh.
The screen lights up with a picture of him, Buck and Chris at the beach last weekend – Eddie looks a little taken aback as Buck boops his nose and Chris makes faces at Jee off-screen. It’s chaos in the best way. Buck knew it was his new favorite photo the minute Maddie sent it to him, captioned you guys are honestly too adorable to be real.
He couldn’t help but agree.
And neither could Eddie.