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Chimney walked into the firehouse raving about a firefighter exchange program before he had even made it all the way to the kitchen.

“Three weeks,” he said, dropping a folder onto the counter with the kind of importance that made everyone look up. “London Fire Brigade. Cross-training, operational observation, cultural exchange, all that good stuff.”

Harry immediately straightened from where he was leaning against the counter. “Wait, so one of us gets to go to England?”

Ravi, seated at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of him, pointed his spoon at him. “Not one of us. Obviously me.”

Harry scoffed. “Why obviously you?”

“Because I have seniority.”

“You have, like, two years on me.”

“Exactly. Seniority.”

“You know I’d be better at the whole international relations thing.”

Ravi laughed. “You? You’d get distracted by one British girl saying ‘cheers’ and forget why you were there.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “And you’d spend the whole trip pretending you understand cricket.”

“I do understand cricket.”

“No, you understand YouTube videos about cricket.”

Chimney pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is not how this works.”

Harry and Ravi both looked at him.

Chimney sighed. “Nobody is going to London. We are taking in an extra firefighter for three weeks.”

Ravi lowered his spoon. “So we get the exchange student?”

“He’s a grown man,” Chimney said.

Harry grinned. “Firefighter exchange student.”

“Do not call him that.”

Then he walked in.

The entire kitchen froze.

Hen grabbed the edge of the counter like she needed it to steady herself. Harry’s eyes snapped from the stranger to Buck, then back again, his mouth falling open. Ravi stopped with a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth. Chimney stared in utter shock, like the folder had personally betrayed him.

“What are you all looking at?” Eddie asked, glancing up at the stranger who had just walked into the firehouse.

He saw the man. Registered him. Then looked back at everyone else like he had missed the actual problem.

Buck looked up from the firehouse kitchen counter, where he had been preparing breakfast, and stopped dead in his tracks.

For a second, he did not move.

Then his gaze flicked to Eddie, the only person in the room who was not reacting like reality had just glitched. Eddie looked calm. Confused, maybe, but calm.

Buck looked back at the stranger.

Same height. Same build. Same blue eyes. Same broad shoulders. Same general face, which was making Eddie’s coworkers act like they had all inhaled gas fumes.

The stranger smiled.

“Hello,” he said, British accent clean and easy. “I’m looking for Captain Han?”

Chimney blinked hard.

Buck pointed at him without looking away. “That’s him.”

The man stepped forward and held out his hand. “Beckett Walsh. You can call me Beck. I’m with the London Fire Brigade. Here for the exchange program.”

Chimney took his hand automatically.

Hen’s eyes slid from Beck to Buck. Then back again.

“Oh,” she said. “This is going to be a problem.”

“There’s two of them?!” Harry shouted in disbelief.

“There are not two of me,” Buck said, then glanced at Beck again like he needed to make sure.

Eddie squinted.

He looked at Buck. Then Beck. Then Buck again.

Then he shrugged.

“Eh,” Eddie said. “I don’t see it.”

The entire kitchen turned on him.

Buck’s eyebrows creased together as he stared at Eddie in disbelief. Buck was very willing to stand on the ground that there were not two of him, but even he could recognize the resemblance. There was denial, and then there was whatever Eddie was doing.

“Howwww can you not see it?” Ravi asked.

Hen said, “Eddie.”

Chimney said, “Diaz.”

Harry said, “Come onnn.”

Eddie looked at them, then back at Beck. “What?”

Buck jabbed a finger toward Beck. “He literally has my face.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Your face is more… Buck.”

“That is not a description.”

“It is if you know you.”

Beck laughed, soft and warm, before more formally introducing himself. He moved around the kitchen, offering a handshake to each member of the 118.

When Beck shook Harry’s hand, Harry looked at him with open fascination.

“Sorry,” Harry said. “This is insane.”

“Harry,” Chimney warned.

Beck smiled. “No, it’s alright. I’m starting to gather I resemble someone.”

Ravi snorted. “Starting to?”

Buck ignored him.

Then Beck reached Eddie.

And Buck saw it happen.

The look.

Eddie’s eyes settled. His shoulders dropped a little. The corner of his mouth twitched.

Buck had seen Eddie smile at patients like that. Nervous kids. Older women flirting with him on calls. He had seen that look with Christopher more times than he could count, soft and patient and quietly amused.

What Buck had not seen was Eddie smiling like that at a man who looked exactly like him.

Maybe Eddie had looked at Buck that way before and Buck had never noticed.

But this felt different.

That was fine.

Totally fine.

Completely fine.

Beck was only going to be there for three weeks.

Buck could survive three weeks.

Probably.

By lunch, Beck was sitting at the kitchen table like he had always belonged there.

He was funny, which was irritating.

He was good with the team, which was worse.

He complimented Hen’s strategy on the rescue they had run that morning. He asked Chimney real questions about leadership. He listened when Ravi talked, like he had actual interest and was not just waiting for his turn to speak. He even let Harry grill him about London.

Buck would have joined in the conversation and laughed on any other day.

But Eddie kept looking at Beck.

Buck leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Eddie laugh at something Beck said.

He hated it.

He hated that Beck had Buck’s face and some calm British version of Buck’s energy. No flailing. No panicked overexplaining. No accidental trauma dumping before dessert. He had Buck’s eyes and Buck’s smile and Buck’s stupid, stupid ability to make Eddie lean closer without trying.

Buck grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and peeled it too aggressively.

Hen appeared beside him.

“You okay there, banana murderer?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you’re about to challenge your clone to a duel.”

“He’s not my clone.”

“No, he’s your hot British variant.”

Buck glared at her.

Across the room, Beck said something too low for Buck to hear.

Eddie laughed again.

Buck’s grip tightened around the banana until the whole thing collapsed in his hand.

Hen looked down at it.

“Yeah,” she said. “Very normal.”

Buck threw what was left of the banana into the trash and walked toward the bunks before anyone else could look at him.

He dropped onto one of the mattresses, pulled out his phone, and told himself he was only passing time until the next call.

His search history filled quickly.

Can two unrelated people look identical

Doppelganger bad omen

London Fire Brigade exchange program legally binding

He stared at the last one, realized how insane it looked, and locked his phone.

Then he slammed it onto the mattress, rolled over, and buried his face into a pillow.

--

The worst part came just two days later.

Buck was wiping down the side of the engine when Eddie walked over, dragging the towel over the same spot long after it was clean.

“So,” Eddie said.

Buck glanced over. “So.”

“Beck asked me out.”

The world narrowed.

Buck’s hand froze on the truck. “What?”

Eddie rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “He asked if I wanted to get dinner.”

“Dinner.”

“Yeah.”

“With him.”

“That’s usually how being asked out works.”

Buck let out a laugh that sounded like it came from a damaged smoke alarm. He stopped himself almost immediately.

“Sorry,” he said, quieter. “Sorry. I’m catching up. Beck asked you out.”

Eddie watched him carefully. “Yeah.”

“As in a date.”

“As in a date.”

Buck’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out at first.

Then one thing came out too fast.

“You’re gay?”

Eddie flinched, just slightly.

Buck heard himself a second too late.

“Sorry,” Buck said quickly, lowering his voice. He looked around, but the others were across the bay. “Sorry, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Eddie’s face had gone guarded anyway.

Buck stepped closer, softer now. “Eddie.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie said.

Buck’s entire body stopped.

Eddie looked down at the concrete between them. “Maybe. Maybe bi. Maybe something I should’ve figured out before now. I don’t know.”

Buck’s panic loosened for one second, pushed aside by something gentler.

“Oh,” he said.

It was not enough. He knew it was not enough.

So he tried again.

“Okay,” Buck said, voice careful. “That’s okay.”

Eddie looked up at him.

Buck swallowed. “You don’t have to know exactly what it is right now. Or have the perfect word for it. You can just… be figuring it out.”

Something in Eddie’s face shifted. Barely.

Buck gave him a small, unsteady smile.

“And for the record, this doesn’t change a thing between us.”

The words hit Buck strangely as they left his mouth.

Familiar.

Echoing.

Eddie’s eyes softened a fraction, like he recognized them too.

“Buck.”

“I mean it,” Buck said. “Whatever this is, whatever you’re figuring out, I’m here. I’m always here.”

Eddie looked away, jaw tight.

For a second, Buck thought Eddie might actually cry. Or maybe Buck was projecting, because his own chest had started to ache in a way he had no idea what to do with.

Eddie shook his head once. “Shannon was real. Ana was supposed to be simple. Marisol was…”

He breathed out.

“I kept trying to make things work because they made sense on paper. Wife. Girlfriend. House. Family. Normal.”

Buck’s chest hurt.

He wanted to reach for him.

He did not know if he was allowed.

“Eddie,” Buck said softly.

Eddie looked back at him. “Beck asked. I didn’t feel trapped by the question.”

Buck swallowed.

He wanted to be a good friend.

He was being a good friend.

He could do this.

He could stand here and be steady the way Eddie had been steady for him. He could make room for Eddie to say the thing out loud without making it about himself.

Except the rest of Buck was still standing in the background with its hands in its hair, screaming.

Because Eddie might like men.

Eddie had been an option.

Eddie had always maybe been an option.

And now Eddie was going on a date with a man who looked like Buck had been photocopied in London.

Buck nodded once, trying to keep his face normal.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s… that’s good.”

Eddie studied him.

Buck nodded again, too fast this time. “Seriously. It’s good. You should be able to feel curious without feeling trapped.”

Eddie’s expression eased a little.

Buck lasted exactly three more seconds.

Then he said, “But Beck?”

Eddie blinked.

Buck winced at himself. “Sorry.”

“Buck.”

“I’m being supportive.”

“You said ‘but Beck.’”

“I know. That was the least supportive part.”

Eddie’s mouth twitched despite himself.

Buck pointed toward the station. “I just mean, you’re telling me men were an option, and your first pick is British Me?”

Eddie’s eyebrows pulled together. “He isn’t you.”

“He is visually me.”

“Barely.”

“Barely?” Buck echoed, voice going high again. “Eddie, he could unlock my phone with Face ID.”

“He has a different face.”

“No, he has my face with imported settings.”

Eddie sighed. “Buck.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. That’s the problem.”

Buck dragged a hand through his hair and tried to pull himself back together.

“Okay. Sorry. I’m done.”

“You’re not done.”

“I can be done.”

“Buck.”

“I’m trying,” Buck said, and that came out more honest than he meant it to.

Eddie’s face softened again.

Buck looked at him, suddenly quieter. “I am happy you told me.”

Eddie held his gaze.

“I mean that part,” Buck said. “Even if I’m being weird about the other part.”

“The Beck part.”

“The Beck part,” Buck admitted.

Eddie’s eyes moved over his face. “Why are you being weird about the Beck part?”

Buck’s breath caught.

Because he looks like me.

Because you looked at him.

Because if you can want him, maybe you could have wanted me.

Because maybe I wanted you to.

Buck said none of that.

Instead, he stepped a little closer and asked, “Do you really not see it?”

Eddie looked at him for a long moment.

Then his gaze moved over Buck’s face, slowly enough that Buck forgot how to breathe.

Eddie said, quieter, “No.”

Buck’s heart kicked hard against his ribs.

“Okay,” Buck said, because he had no idea what else to say.

Eddie held his gaze another second.

Then he looked away.

“I’m going to go,” Eddie said. “On the date.”

Buck nodded too fast. “Yeah. Good. You should.”

Eddie watched him.

Buck forced himself to slow down.

“I mean that,” he said. “You should go. If you want to go, you should go.”

“I want to try.”

Buck’s smile came out small and crooked. “Then try.”

Eddie nodded.

For one second, it felt like they were back on solid ground.

Then Buck added, “With my stunt double.”

Eddie closed his eyes. “Buck.”

“I’m sorry. I’m done.”

“You’re not.”

“I’m mostly done.”

Eddie’s mouth twitched.

Buck hated that he loved that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie said.

“Yeah,” Buck said. “Tomorrow.”

Eddie turned to leave, then paused.

“Buck.”

Buck looked at him.

“This really doesn’t change anything?”

Buck’s throat tightened.

He smiled, soft and sure this time.

“Not a thing.”

Eddie nodded once, like he was tucking that away somewhere safe.

Then he walked away.

Buck stood there and leaned against the fire truck, feeling like the entire universe had tilted three inches to the left.

Hen found him ten minutes later.

“You okay?”

Buck looked at her.

“Eddie is going on a date with Beck.”

Hen’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Please stop saying oh like that.”

Hen set her hands on her hips. “Are we upset because Eddie is maybe into men, because Eddie is into Beck, or because Beck looks like someone Eddie has spent years building a life with?”

Buck’s throat tightened.

“I’m not upset.”

“Buck.”

“I’m confused.”

“That one I believe.”

Buck looked toward the open bay doors.

Outside, Eddie was talking to Beck beside the engine. Beck said something that made Eddie duck his head and smile.

Buck looked away.

“I didn’t know he could want that,” Buck said.

Hen’s voice softened. “Want what?”

Buck shook his head.

A man.

Me.

He did not say either one.

Hen stepped closer. “Buck, you and Eddie have been acting married for years. You cook together, raise Christopher together, show up for each other before either of you even has to ask.”

Buck frowned. “That’s not…”

“Normal best friend stuff?” Hen asked gently. “No. Not usually.”

Buck looked back at Eddie.

Beck touched his arm lightly.

Eddie did not move away.

Buck felt it like a bruise.

“He’s supposed to be my best friend,” Buck said.

Hen’s face softened.

“He is, Buck.”

“Then why does this feel like something else?”

--

The date happened on a Friday.

Buck knew because Eddie told him.

Which was cruel, Buck had totally not asked.

Okay, that’s a lie. He had asked six times.

Casually.

Like a normal person.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“You still doing that dinner thing?”

“Where are you going?”

“Did he pick the place or did you?”

“Do you need me to watch Chris?”

“Does Chris know?”

By the sixth question, Eddie had leaned against the lockers and stared at him.

“Buck.”

“What?”

“You’re being weird.”

“I’m being interested.”

“You asked what time the reservation was, where the restaurant is, whether he picked it, whether I picked it, and if I was driving myself.”

“For logistics.”

“For a date you are not going on.”

Eddie shut his locker. “Chris knows I’m going out. He does not know it’s a date. I’m not ready to have that conversation yet.”

“He’s staying home alone?”

“He’s sixteen,” Eddie said. “According to him, practically an adult.”

Buck huffed. “Yeah, okay.”

“I made sure he had everything he needed,” Eddie added. “And he knows he can call his Buck if anything happens.”

Buck’s face softened before he could stop it.

Eddie saw it. Of course he saw it. So he continued before Buck could read too into what he just said.

“And I’m just going to dinner,” Eddie said. “Then probably coffee. Then home.”

“Coffee after dinner?”

“That’s generally legal.”

Buck tried to smile.

It did not work.

Eddie’s expression shifted. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“You’re acting mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

“Then what are you?”

Buck looked at him.

He wanted to tell the truth.

He wanted to say, I’m jealous in a way I have no right to be.

He wanted to say, I have loved you so long it became background noise.

He wanted to say, I thought I lost my chance before I knew I had one.

Instead, he said, “I just want you to be happy.”

Eddie’s face softened.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”

--

The date was at a small restaurant near Silver Lake.

Eddie only told Buck that because Buck had asked where he would be in case of emergency.

Then Buck had to pretend he was not going to spend the whole night imagining the emergency.

At 7:15, he reorganized his kitchen cabinets while Theo sat at the table coloring a dinosaur green and insisting it was actually blue.

At 7:43, he cleaned the junk drawer with one eye on the living room, where Theo was curled up under a blanket watching a cartoon at a volume Buck kept lowering every time the theme song came back on.

At 8:02, after pajamas had been negotiated and Theo had rejected the first cup of water for being “too full,” Buck texted Chimney.

Buck: Hypothetically how long is a good date
Chim: For who?
Buck: Anyone
Chim: Bad date? 45 mins. Good date? Few hours. Great date? Stop texting me.
Buck: Cool thanks
Chim: This is about Eddie and your clone isn’t it
Buck: Goodnight Chim

Theo looked up from where he was dragging his stuffed rabbit across the couch cushions. “Work?”

Buck locked his phone too fast.

“No,” he said, forcing his voice into something normal. “Just Chim being Chim.”

By 8:29, Theo was finally drifting to sleep.

Buck had carried him to bed, tucked the blanket around him, and stood in the doorway for a little too long, listening to the soft, steady sound of his breathing.

Then Maddie called.

Buck answered immediately.

“Did Hen tell you?”

Maddie laughed. “Hi to you too.”

“Did Hen tell you?”

“She said Eddie has a date with a man who looks like you, and that you’re pretending very loudly to be normal about it.”

“I am handling it fine.”

“Are you?”

Buck looked at the spice rack he had alphabetized while spiraling.

“No.”

Maddie’s voice softened. “Talk to me.”

Buck slid down to the floor, his back against the cabinets.

“I didn’t know this was even something Eddie was thinking about.”

“Okay.”

“And now it is. Or maybe it has been, and I just didn’t know. And he’s going out with Beck.”

“The British firefighter.”

“The British firefighter with my face.”

“The British firefighter with your face,” Maddie said gently.

Buck rubbed both hands over his face. “What does it say that Eddie can look at someone who looks like me and decide he wants to try?”

“Maybe it says Eddie is finally letting himself try.”

Buck stared at the opposite wall.

Maddie was quiet for a moment.

Then she asked, softer, “Buck… did you want it to be you?”

Buck’s eyes burned.

He hated that too.

“I can’t do that to him,” Buck said.

“Do what?”

“Make this about me.”

“Having feelings doesn’t automatically make it about you.”

Buck swallowed.

Maddie waited.

Buck whispered, “What if I’m too late?”

--

EDDIE

Eddie almost canceled in the car.

He sat in the driver’s seat outside the restaurant with both hands on the wheel and the engine still running, staring through the windshield at the front doors.

It was a good place.

Small. Quiet. Nice. The kind of restaurant where people spoke in low voices and the tables were close enough to feel intimate, but not so close that you could hear every word from the couple beside you.

Beck had picked it.

Of course Beck had picked a good place.

Eddie glanced at his phone.

No new texts.

Buck had not texted again after asking if Chris was okay. Or after asking what time the reservation was. Or after asking if Eddie was driving himself, like Eddie had not been driving himself around Los Angeles for most of his adult life.

He should have found it funny.

He did find it funny.

Mostly.

The problem was Buck had sounded strange all day.

Too bright. Too sharp around the edges. Like he was trying to turn the whole thing into a joke before something else could take shape.

Eddie knew that move. Buck wrapped fear in noise. Sometimes facts. Sometimes research.

Eddie had wanted to ask him what was wrong.

Which was stupid, because Eddie knew what was wrong.

Or he thought he did.

Buck was protective. Buck was weird about change. Buck had a history of deciding Eddie needed backup whether Eddie asked for it or not.

Maybe Buck was uncomfortable.

Maybe Buck did not know what to do with this version of him.

Eddie exhaled through his nose and shut off the car.

“This is normal,” he muttered to himself.

It sounded ridiculous the second he said it.

Nothing about this was normal.

He was thirty-something years old, sitting outside a restaurant, about to go on his first date with a man. A man from London. A man his entire firehouse had spent three days insisting looked like Buck.

Eddie still did not see it.

He had tried.

He really had.

He had looked at Beck across the kitchen and in the engine bay and during a call, searching for whatever everyone else saw. He had cataloged the obvious things. Similar height. Similar build. Blue eyes. Blond hair. The kind of face people trusted before he opened his mouth.

But Beck did not move like Buck.

That was the part Eddie kept coming back to.

Buck was restless even when he was standing still. His feelings lived in his shoulders, his hands, his mouth, the way he leaned into every conversation like he could close the distance through sheer force of caring. Buck took up space and somehow made room for everyone else at the same time.

Beck was composed. Warm, but contained. He listened with his whole face but did not spill over. His smile was easier. Less desperate to be believed.

He was attractive.

Eddie could admit that.

He had admitted that.

Quietly. Privately. With some discomfort.

The thought did not scare him as much as he expected.

Because if he could be attracted to Beck, then maybe there had always been a door somewhere inside him. Maybe he had spent years walking past it, pretending it was a wall.

He got out of the car before he could think himself into leaving.

Beck was already inside.

He stood when Eddie approached the table, which made Eddie smile despite himself.

“Hi,” Beck said.

“Hey.”

There was a beat where Eddie did not know what to do with his hands.

Handshake felt insane.

Hug felt too much.

Beck, mercifully, seemed to understand. He smiled and gestured toward Eddie’s chair.

“I’m glad you came.”

Eddie sat. “Yeah. Me too.”

And to his surprise, he meant it.

The first few minutes were awkward, but that was to be expected.

Menus helped. Water helped. The waiter asking if they wanted wine helped, because Beck glanced at Eddie and said, “I’m driving,” at the same time Eddie said, “I’m driving,” and they both laughed.

It loosened something.

Eddie ordered steak because he always ordered steak when he did not want to think too hard.

Beck ordered pasta and asked the waiter a very specific question about the sauce. Something about garlic, wine, and whether the tomatoes were roasted or crushed. Eddie lost track halfway through, mostly because Beck said it like he actually cared about the answer.

“You cook?” Eddie asked after the waiter left.

“I try.”

“That’s a yes.”

“That’s a generous interpretation.”

Eddie smiled. “I live with a sixteen-year-old. My standards are flexible.”

Beck laughed. “That bad?”

“Chris is actually pretty easy. Buck’s the one with opinions.”

The name slipped out before Eddie could stop it.

Beck’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Buck cooks?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, then paused.

Buck cooked.

More now than before, since Bobby. Everyone at the 118 had learned to fill the empty spaces in their own ways, and Buck had taken to the kitchen like feeding people could make the firehouse feel steady again. He burned things sometimes. Overthought recipes. Asked too many questions. Somehow made enough food for twelve even when there were only six of them on shift.

Eddie looked down at his water glass.

Beck had asked about the sauce.

Buck would have asked about the sauce.

Buck would have asked, then pretended it was casual, then recreated it at the firehouse two days later with three printed recipes and a YouTube video paused on his phone.

Eddie blinked.

Same height. Same build. Same eyes.

Food questions.

Maybe Beck was more like Buck than Eddie initially realized.

And maybe Beck realized Eddie had spent a second too long overthinking the fact that he had brought Buck up on a date, because he gently changed the subject back to Chris.

“So… Chris? Is that short for Christopher? Tell me about him.”

Eddie’s chest did the thing it always did when someone said Chris’s name with care.

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Christopher.”

He smiled down at his water glass before he could stop himself.

“He’s sixteen now, which is insane because I swear he was eight five minutes ago. He’s smart. Funny. Stubborn as hell. He has this way of looking at you when he knows you’re full of it, like he’s already decided he’s going to let you embarrass yourself for another thirty seconds before he calls you out.”

Beck smiled.

“He’s got opinions about everything,” Eddie continued. “Food, movies, music, my clothes…”

He almost said Buck’s cooking.

Again.

Eddie caught himself before the name made it out this time, but barely. The thought still sat there, obvious and inconvenient, another place Buck had slipped into his life so completely Eddie barely noticed until he was trying not to mention him.

He shook his head, still smiling because he was thinking about Chris now. Chris at the kitchen table, Chris rolling his eyes, Chris pretending he was too old to laugh at dumb jokes and then laughing anyway.

“He’s been through more than any kid should have to. And he’s still… Chris. He still finds a way to be kind. He still gives people a chance. He still believes things can be good, even when he has every reason to be tired of trying.”

The smile softened into something quieter.

“He’s the best person I know.”

Beck’s expression gentled.

“You talk about him like he’s the best part of your life.”

“He is.”

The answer came fast. Easy. No hesitation.

Beck’s expression softened. “I like that.”

Eddie looked down at his water glass again.

He was used to people liking the idea of him as a father. Women, especially. It made him seem stable. Serious. Ready-made for something.

With Beck, it felt different. Less like a box checked. More like Beck had noticed the shape of him and found it worth looking at.

That was nice.

Strange, but nice.

They talked about Christopher for a little while longer. Not too much, because Eddie was careful with that. He talked about school and video games and the ongoing argument over whether cereal counted as dinner if you ate it after six p.m.

Beck laughed at that.

“Where do you stand?” he asked.

“Against cereal dinner.”

“A hard line.”

“I’m a parent. I have to pretend I have some.”

“You don’t?”

Eddie leaned back. “I do. Chris just finds them negotiable.”

“I admire that.”

“Yeah, he gets that from Buck.”

The name came out before Eddie thought about it.

Something flickered across Beck’s face.

Not jealousy. Interest, maybe.

“Buck is close with him?”

Eddie nodded, realizing Buck had yet again made it into their date conversation. “Yeah. Since Chris was little.”

“That’s rare.”

“What is?”

“A friend who you can lean on to be there for your kid.”

Eddie’s fingers tightened around his glass.

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

Buck would have had something to say about cereal dinner. He would have argued that cereal was only dinner if it had protein. Then he would have started listing cereals by nutritional value because he had definitely researched it at some point. Chris would have taken his side purely because Buck made the better case.

Eddie smiled before he could stop himself.

Beck noticed.

“Good thought?”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

“You smiled.”

“Oh.” Eddie cleared his throat. “Just thinking about Chris.”

It was almost true.

The food came, and the date kept going well.

That was the thing Eddie would remember later. It kept going well.

Beck was easy to talk to. He did not push too hard. He asked questions and accepted the answers Eddie gave instead of trying to pry open the ones he held back. When Eddie talked about the Army, Beck listened without that stiff, careful pity people sometimes got. When Eddie talked about the job, Beck understood the parts other people usually needed explained.

They traded bad call stories.

Beck told him about a man who got stuck halfway through a cat flap while trying to prove to his ex-wife that he could still fit through it.

Eddie laughed so hard he had to put his fork down.

“Did he?” Eddie asked.

“Fit?”

“Yeah.”

“Eventually. With assistance. And quite a lot of butter.”

Eddie dropped his head, laughing again.

It felt good.

That was the worst part.

It felt good to sit across from someone and be wanted without feeling cornered by it.

He had spent so much of his life trying to become the version of himself other people knew how to love.

Husband.

Father.

Soldier.

Provider.

The stable one. The calm one. The guy who made the right choice because the wrong choice had consequences.

Shannon had loved him, and he had loved her, but loving each other had never made them good at being married. Ana had been kind and patient and lovely on paper. Marisol had been another attempt at proving he had healed into the shape he was supposed to be.

Every time, he had waited for the feeling to arrive.

The one everybody talked about.

Ease. Certainty. Want.

He could want in pieces. He had wanted comfort. He had wanted partnership. He had wanted to give Chris a life that made sense from the outside.

But there had always been a quiet part of him standing back from it all, arms crossed, watching Eddie try to act “normal”.

With Beck, there was curiosity.

That was new.

Eddie looked across the table at him and thought, I can do this.

Then immediately, underneath it:

Can I?

He had wondered if the first date with a man would feel like a point of no return. Like a line he would cross and then hear some internal alarm start screaming.

Instead, it felt like dinner.

A nice dinner with a nice man who had kind eyes and a good laugh.

It felt possible.

That should have been enough.

Beck asked about Eddie’s family at one point. Not the whole story. Just whether they were nearby.

“Do you have family in Los Angeles?” Beck asked.

“No. Texas,” he said. “My parents. My sisters.”

“That far?”

“Yeah.”

A small pause.

“My son was there for a while too.”

Beck’s attention sharpened, but he kept his voice casual. “That must have been hard.”

“Yeah.”

Eddie took a drink of water.

There were different ways to tell that story.

He could say his son had needed space. He could say he had made mistakes. He could say his own grief had turned him into someone he did not recognize. He could say Buck had been the one person he wanted to call and the one person he felt he had no right to keep leaning on.

He said, “We figured it out.”

Beck nodded. “With Buck?”

Eddie looked up.

Beck’s expression was open.

Eddie huffed a laugh. “Is he interviewing for this date too?”

“No. But he comes up often.”

Eddie sat back.

“He’s my best friend.”

“I gathered.”

“He’s Chris’s…” Eddie stopped.

Beck waited.

Eddie did not know what word belonged there.

Buck was not Chris’s father. Eddie had never tried to make him that, never wanted to replace anything, never wanted to tangle Chris up in adult feelings he had no name for.

But Buck was in the legal paperwork.

Buck was in the emergency contacts.

Buck was in the school pickup list, the family dinners, the birthday mornings, the quiet moments when Chris needed someone who was not Eddie but still felt safe.

Buck was in everything.

“He’s Buck,” Eddie said finally.

Beck smiled like that answered more than Eddie meant it to.

“Must be nice,” he said.

“What?”

“To have someone whose name explains the whole thing.”

Eddie looked away.

Yeah.

It was.

Dessert was Beck’s idea.

Eddie almost said no, because coffee after dinner already felt like more date than he knew what to do with, but Beck mentioned sticky toffee pudding and Eddie had never had it.

“You’ve never had sticky toffee pudding?” Beck asked.

“No.”

“And you still agreed to have dinner with a British man?”

Eddie smiled. “I didn’t know there was a test.”

“There’s always a test. This is the easiest one.”

“What happens if I don’t like it?”

Beck glanced toward the waiter. “Then I pretend to respect your opinion.”

Eddie laughed. “Fine. Order it.”

Beck did.

The waiter brought one spoon, then apologized and brought another.

Eddie stared at the two spoons.

This, for some reason, felt more intimate than dinner.

Sharing dessert. Two spoons in one dish. Beck sliding it toward the center like an invitation.

Eddie picked up the spoon.

He could do this.

It was just dessert.

Beck took a bite and closed his eyes briefly. “Right. Tastes like home.”

Eddie watched him.

There was something vulnerable in that. A flash of homesickness so quick Beck probably had not meant to show it.

“Do you miss it?” Eddie asked.

“London?”

“Yeah.”

Beck looked down at the pudding, dragging his spoon through the sauce.

“Parts of it,” he said. “A proper cup of tea. My sister calling me a miserable bloke when I don’t answer her texts fast enough. The station. The rain, sometimes, though I’ll deny saying that if anyone asks.”

Eddie smiled. “So why leave?”

“Because the exchange program came up,” Beck said. “And it felt like one of those golden opportunities you’re supposed to take before you have time to talk yourself out of it.”

“That the official answer?”

Beck’s mouth twitched.

“It’s the one I gave my mum.”

Eddie waited.

Beck leaned back slightly, still easy, but quieter now. “The less official answer is that I needed a change of pace. New city. New station. New people who didn’t already know exactly where to put me.”

Eddie looked down at the table.

He understood that more than he wanted to.

Beck noticed, but he did not push.

“Sometimes it’s easier to say you’re doing something for work,” Beck added, “when really, you’re trying to breathe somewhere else for a bit.”

That landed deeper than Eddie expected.

He looked down at the pudding.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I get that.”

Beck’s voice softened. “Do you?”

Eddie took a slow breath.

Did he?

He had gone to Texas to be near his son and had come back feeling like someone had taken his life apart and handed him the pieces without instructions.

He had tried to be better. Tried to choose joy, whatever that meant. Tried to listen when people told him he did not have to keep drinking water just because it was what he thought he deserved.

And now he was here. On a date with a man. Testing a truth by standing near it and seeing if it burned.

“I think I’m trying to,” Eddie said.

Beck did not smile this time. He just nodded, like he understood how hard it was to admit even that much.

They finished dessert slowly.

By the time they left the restaurant, Eddie was relaxed in a way he had not expected to be.

The night air was cool. The sidewalk shone faintly from earlier rain. Beck walked beside him with his hands in his coat pockets, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed.

Eddie noticed.

He did not move away.

That mattered.

He filed it somewhere inside himself.

They stopped near Eddie’s truck.

“Well,” Beck said.

“Yeah.”

Eddie looked at him and felt the familiar old panic start to sniff around the edges.

This was the part.

The end of the date. The moment where the whole night turned into a question.

With women, Eddie had always known the script. He had not always felt the want behind it, but he had known the beats. Smile. Step closer. Kiss goodnight. Figure out afterward if the empty feeling meant something or if he was just tired.

With Beck, he did not know the script.

Maybe that was why his heartbeat had picked up.

Beck studied him. “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie went still.

The question was simple. Gentle. No assumption tucked inside it.

Eddie could say no.

That realization steadied him.

He looked at Beck, really looked at him. The blue eyes. The blond hair. The soft concern in his face.

He searched himself for fear.

There was some. Of course there was. But there was also curiosity. There was a small, careful want. There was the door again, no longer pretending to be a wall.

Eddie said, “Yeah.”

Beck stepped closer.

Slowly enough that Eddie could change his mind.

Eddie did not.

The kiss was soft at first. Beck’s hand touched Eddie’s arm, light and respectful. His mouth was warm. He smelled faintly like rain and coffee and whatever cologne he wore, something clean and understated.

Eddie kissed him back.

For one second, it was fine.

More than fine.

It was good.

He could feel himself respond to it, feel his body understand what his brain had been circling all week.

Then Beck shifted closer.

His thumb brushed the inside of Eddie’s sleeve.

His mouth angled slightly.

And Eddie opened his eyes.

He did not mean to.

He just did.

Beck’s face was close, blurred by proximity. Blond lashes. A strong nose. Blue eyes half-lidded when he pulled back barely enough to breathe.

And suddenly, violently, Eddie saw it.

Buck.

The same shape of the face everyone had been yelling about. The same impossible blue eyes. The same mouth close enough to kiss.

Except it was wrong.

The accent was wrong.

The hands were wrong.

The stillness was wrong.

There was no Buck warmth rushing at him. No trembling sincerity. No familiar chaos. No years of history pressing against his ribs.

Eddie froze.

Beck noticed immediately and stepped back.

“You alright?”

Eddie stared at him.

His heart was hammering now, but for a completely different reason.

Buck.

The name filled his head so fully it drowned out everything else.

Buck in the station bay, voice cracking around, “You’re gay?”

Buck trying to joke through panic.

Buck saying, “I just want you to be happy,” with a face that looked anything but happy.

Buck standing in Eddie’s kitchen like he belonged there because he did. Buck with Chris. Buck at hospital beds. Buck with blood on his face in the street. Buck at Eddie’s side through every version of his life that had fallen apart.

Buck, Buck, Buck.

Oh. Oh.

Eddie took a step back.

The truth did not arrive gently.

It slammed into him like a freight train to the chest.

He had wanted the kiss to answer a question.

It had.

Just not the question he thought he was asking.

He was attracted to men.

Fine.

Good.

Important.

But this ache in his chest, this sudden unbearable grief, this feeling like he had been standing one room over from his own life for years?

That was Buck.

It had always been Buck.

Beck was watching him carefully, and Eddie hated himself a little because Beck had done nothing wrong. He had been kind. Funny. Honest. He had given Eddie a good night. A safe night.

And Eddie had used that safety to walk straight into another man’s name.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said.

Beck’s expression shifted. Not surprised exactly. Maybe resigned.

“It’s Buck?”

Eddie’s throat closed.

He looked down, then back up.

“Yeah,” he said, the word rough.

Beck nodded once.

Eddie’s chest hurt.

“I didn’t know,” Eddie said quickly. “I swear, I didn’t know that’s what this was. I thought maybe I was just… figuring things out. I thought this was about me.”

“It is about you.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t deserve to be a test.”

Beck gave him a small, sad smile. “I asked you out knowing there was a whole firehouse looking at me like I’d stepped out of a cloning vat. I had some warning.”

Eddie let out a breath that almost became a laugh.

Then guilt swallowed it.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I know.”

Beck tucked his hands into his coat pockets.

“For the record,” Beck said, “I do like you.”

Eddie nodded. “I like you too.”

“But?”

Eddie looked toward his truck.

But I know who I wanted to kiss tonight.

But I know whose face I was afraid to see.

But I have built a life with him and somehow convinced myself that was just friendship, but it never was.

He looked back at Beck.

“But I’m in love with my best friend.”

There. There it was. Out loud.

The words should have scared him.

Maybe they did, a little bit.

But underneath the fear, there was relief so sharp it almost hurt worse.

Beck’s face softened.

“Then you should probably tell him.”

Eddie let out a quiet, unsteady laugh. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to him.”

Beck’s expression softened. “Start with the truth.”

“The truth is going to hurt him.”

“Maybe.”

Eddie looked toward his truck, then back at Beck. “I kissed you.”

“I kissed you too.”

“And I let it happen because I thought I was figuring myself out.” Eddie’s voice dropped. “Then all I figured out was that I wanted him.”

Beck was quiet for a second.

“For what it’s worth,” Beck said, “I don’t think Buck is going to hate you.”

Eddie swallowed. “You don’t know him.”

“I know enough.”

Eddie gave him a doubtful look.

Beck’s mouth tilted, gentle but amused. “Eddie, he spent my entire first few shifts glaring at me like he was waiting for me to slip up so he could report me and get rid of me faster.”

Despite himself, Eddie almost laughed.

Buck was jealous.

The thought was too big to hold.

Buck was jealous, and Eddie had been so busy trying to understand himself that he had missed it.

Or maybe he had seen it and refused to name it because naming it would mean hope.

Hope had always been dangerous with Buck.

Hope could ruin the safest thing in Eddie’s life.

Except maybe the safest thing had been asking to become something else for years, and Eddie had been the last one to hear it.

He pulled out his phone.

His hands felt clumsy.

“What are you doing?” Beck asked.

“Texting him.”

Eddie stared at the screen.

Buck’s name sat at the top of the thread.

There were so many messages there. Years of them. Grocery lists. Chris updates. Call swaps. Memes Buck thought were funny. Photos from family dinners. A whole life documented in small pieces Eddie had never thought to be afraid of.

He typed:

Are you home?

He stared at it for three seconds, then deleted it.

Of course Buck was home. Theo was there. Buck had said bedtime was at eight-thirty now, then acted embarrassed about knowing the exact minute Theo’s whole night fell apart if they missed it.

Eddie typed again.

Can I come over?

He deleted that too.

Too careful.

Too much room for Buck to say no before Eddie could explain why he was asking.

Beck watched him from beside the truck. “You alright?”

“No,” Eddie said, honest before he could stop himself.

Beck’s expression softened.

Eddie looked back down at the phone.

He typed:

I need to talk to you.

His thumb hovered over send.

Buck would read it and panic. Buck would call immediately. Buck would ask if he was hurt, if Beck had done something, if Eddie was okay, if Chris was okay, if the world was ending.

Eddie closed his eyes for half a second.

Then he deleted it.

When he opened them again, the screen was still waiting.

Eddie typed the only sentence that felt clear enough to survive the drive.

I’m coming over.

Beck watched him slip the phone back into his pocket.

“You’re going now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Eddie looked at him. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” Beck stepped back, giving him space. “For what it’s worth, this was still a good date.”

Eddie looked at him, surprised.

Beck smiled faintly. “Until the emotional catastrophe at the end.”

Eddie huffed. “Yeah.”

“And if your Buck fumbles this, I reserve the right to judge him.”

“My Buck?”

Beck’s smile grew.

Eddie felt his face warm up.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight.”

Eddie got into his truck.

He did not start it right away.

For a moment, he just sat there with his hands on the wheel, the same way he had before the date.

Except everything was different now.

He started this date wondering if he could like men, and somehow ended it with the only place he wanted to go being Buck’s front door.

He thought about turning on the radio.

He did not.

He thought about calling Hen, maybe. Or Frank. Or God, which was funny, because apparently Eddie only remembered prayer when his life was actively on fire.

Instead, he drove.

Every red light felt personal.

Every mile gave him too much time to think.

What if Buck did not want this?

What if Buck had been jealous because Beck looked like him and the whole thing was strange, not because he wanted Eddie?

What if Eddie showed up and said words they could never take back?

What if Buck looked at him with pity?

What if Buck said, I love you, but not like that?

Eddie gripped the wheel tighter.

Then another thought came, quieter but stronger.

What if he does?

His pulse jumped.

He could picture Buck opening the door. Barefoot, probably. Hair a mess from running his hands through it. Eyes wide. Worried first, because Buck always went worried before anything else.

Are you okay?

Eddie knew that would be the first thing out of his mouth.

The thought made him ache.

Because yes, he wanted Buck.

He wanted Buck’s mouth. Buck’s hands. Buck’s eyes on him without either of them pretending the look meant anything else. He wanted every almost-moment they had stepped around for years to finally have somewhere to go.

But underneath all of that, he wanted the thing Buck had already given him without trying.

The first question.

The worry before the jealousy. The instinct to ask if Eddie was okay before asking what had happened. The kind of care that had been holding Eddie’s life together for so long he had stopped noticing the weight of it.

Buck was already in everything.

Chris. The firehouse. Family dinners. Hospital rooms. Bad days. Better ones. The quiet parts of Eddie’s life that nobody else ever saw.

Eddie had mistaken that for friendship because friendship was safer to name.

Now he knew better.

Eddie pulled onto Buck’s street.

His heart was pounding now.

He parked in front of the house and sat there for one breath.

Then another.

He looked at the warm light in Buck’s windows.

Home.

Eddie shut off the truck, got out, and walked to the door before he could lose his nerve.

Eddie knocked once.

The porch light hummed above him. Buck’s house was quiet, the windows glowing warm from inside. Eddie could see a lamp on in the living room and the faint blue flicker of a muted TV.

For half a second, he thought about Theo.

About the fact that Buck was not living some empty, waiting life anymore. There was a four-year-old asleep somewhere inside this house. There were toys on the floor and tiny sneakers by the door and a half-finished cup of water on the coffee table because kids never finished anything they asked for.

Buck had a son now.

Buck had a life that asked things of him every hour of the day.

Eddie had no right to come here and drop his own revelation at Buck’s feet like Buck had been sitting around with nothing to carry.

Eddie almost turned to leave, then Buck opened the door.

Buck stood there barefoot in sweatpants and an old LAFD hoodie, hair messy like he had been running his hands through it for hours.

His face went straight to worry.

Of course it did.

“Are you okay?”

--

BUCK

He had spent the last twenty minutes trying very hard not to stare at his phone.

Theo had fallen asleep once, long enough for Buck to answer Maddie’s call in the kitchen and pretend his entire chest did not hurt. Then, ten minutes after Buck hung up, there had been a small voice from down the hall.

“Buck?”

Now Theo was tucked against his side on the couch, one hand buried in the sleeve of Buck’s hoodie, his eyes fighting sleep through the last few minutes of a cartoon Buck had already restarted once.

Buck had checked his phone twice.

Maybe four times.

Enough that Theo lifted his head and asked, “Work now?”

Buck locked the screen immediately.

“No, buddy,” he said, forcing his voice into something easy. “Just checking the time.”

Theo accepted that because he was four and tired and still learning which grown-up lies were meant to keep things gentle.

So Buck put the phone face down on the coffee table and tried to be better.

He watched the cartoon. He laughed in the right places. He got Theo another sip of water. He promised the hallway light would stay on. He negotiated one more story, then a second one because Theo looked at him with those huge eyes and Buck was apparently very bad at being strict when Theo was small and sleepy and asking him to stay.

By the time Theo finally fell asleep again, Buck’s whole body felt wired and useless.

He carried Theo back to bed. Tucked the blanket around him. Stood in the doorway for too long afterward, listening to his breathing.

Then he went back to the living room.

The phone was still face down on the coffee table.

At 9:11, it buzzed.

Buck nearly jumped out of his skin.

Eddie’s name lit up the screen.

I’m coming over.

That was it.

No explanation.

No “date went well.”

No “don’t wait up.”

No “sorry, long night.”

Just:

I’m coming over.

Buck’s stomach dropped.

For one wild second, he thought about calling him.

Then he thought about Theo asleep down the hall, the house finally quiet, the fact that his hands were already shaking.

He typed:

What happened?

Deleted it.

Typed:

Are you okay?

Deleted that too.

Because if Eddie was coming over, Buck would know soon enough.

And if Eddie was coming over after that date, after Beck, after everything Buck had spent the whole night trying not to imagine, then Buck was not sure there was a question he could ask over text that would make him ready for the answer.

He set the phone down.

Picked it back up.

Set it down again.

Then he looked around the living room. The abandoned cartoon. The blanket Theo had kicked off. The plastic cup on the table. The picture book still open on the couch.

Buck took a breath.

Then another.

Eddie was coming over.

And Buck had no idea what to expect.

--

Before he knew it, Eddie had arrived. He knocked once. Buck opened the door.

“Are you okay?” Buck asked.

Eddie looked at him.

Really looked at him.

Eddie almost laughed.

He almost broke right there.

Because of course that was the first thing Buck asked. Not what happened. Not why are you here. Not how was the date.

Are you okay?

Eddie swallowed.

Behind Buck, the house was dim and still. There was a small stuffed dinosaur lying on its side near the couch. A plastic cup on the side table. A folded blanket Buck had probably used earlier when Theo fell asleep beside him.

Eddie lowered his voice. “Is Theo asleep?”

Buck blinked, like the question had knocked him sideways.

“Yeah,” he said. “He went down not long ago.”

“Okay.”

Buck’s eyes searched his face. “Eddie, what happened?”

Eddie stepped inside.

Buck shut the door behind him.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved.

Then Eddie said, “He kissed me.”

Buck’s face changed.

It was small. Barely anything. A flicker at the eyes. A tightening at the mouth.

But Eddie saw it.

Because Eddie knew Buck.

Eddie looked around the living room.

There were signs of Theo everywhere. A stack of picture books on the coffee table. Crayons in a plastic container. One tiny sock half-hidden under the edge of the couch.

Buck followed his gaze and gave a faint, embarrassed shrug. “He fought pajamas, negotiated for two stories, and then passed out halfway through the second one.”

Eddie nodded, but the ache in his throat got worse.

“Sounds about right.”

Buck looked back at him, worry sharpening again. “Eddie.”

Right.

No more stalling.

Eddie rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “The date went well.”

Buck’s expression shuttered just enough that Eddie hated himself for noticing.

“Okay,” Buck said.

“It did,” Eddie said, because that part mattered. “Beck was kind. Funny. Easy to talk to.”

Buck nodded too fast. “Good. That’s good.”

“Buck.”

“I mean it.” Buck crossed his arms, then uncrossed them immediately, like even he knew it looked defensive. “I do. I’m glad it wasn’t awful.”

Eddie watched him.

Buck tried to smile.

It did not work.

Eddie took one careful step closer. “He kissed me.”

Buck looked away.

“Yeah,” he said. “You said.”

“I kissed him back.”

Buck’s throat moved.

Eddie stopped there.

Buck deserved the truth, but he also deserved space to feel it.

“Okay,” Buck said again, quieter this time.

Eddie’s chest tightened. “It was good.”

Buck’s eyes shut for half a second.

Eddie almost took it back.

But the only way out was through.

“It was good,” Eddie repeated. “And then it wasn’t.”

Buck opened his eyes.

Eddie forced himself to keep going.

“Because I saw you.”

Buck went still.

The house seemed to go quiet around them. The TV flickered silently over the couch. Somewhere down the hall, something shifted. Maybe the house settling. Maybe Theo turning over in his sleep.

Buck’s voice came out careful. “What does that mean?”

“It means everybody was right,” Eddie said. “He does look like you.”

Buck stared at him.

Eddie huffed a shaky breath. “And I hate that this is what it took me to see it.”

Buck’s face softened in confusion and pain at the same time. “Eddie…”

“I didn’t go out with him because he looked like you,” Eddie said quickly. “I need you to know that. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know.”

Buck did not answer.

Eddie nodded once, like he deserved that.

“I thought I was trying to figure out if I could want a man,” he said. “If that was something in me. If that was why everything else kept feeling wrong in ways I couldn’t explain.”

Buck’s eyes stayed on him.

“I did want him,” Eddie admitted. “A little. Enough to say yes. Enough to kiss him back.”

Buck flinched.

Eddie stopped immediately.

“I’m sorry.”

Buck shook his head once. “No. Don’t. You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“I do if I’m hurting you.”

Buck looked down.

That was an answer all by itself.

Eddie’s voice dropped. “Buck.”

Buck laughed once, quiet and rough. “This is so unfair.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean…” Buck pressed his palms over his eyes, then dropped them. “You were figuring out something huge. You told me, and I tried to be normal. I tried to be good about it. And then all I could think was, why him? Why now? Why someone who looks like me?”

Eddie’s heart slammed against his ribs.

Buck looked at him then, eyes bright.

“And I hated myself for it,” Buck said. “Because this was supposed to be about you. You trusted me with something huge, and the whole time, I was standing there thinking about what it meant for me.”

Eddie’s face changed.

Not a lot. Just enough.

“Buck.”

Buck shook his head. “I know. I know that’s what I do.”

Eddie’s chest tightened.

The thing Eddie had thrown at him once because he had been angry and scared and grieving, and because Buck had been the safest person in the room to bleed on.

The trials and tribulations of Evan Buckley.

Eddie still hated the sound of it in his own voice.

“Hey,” Eddie said, softer. “No.”

Buck looked away.

“I’m not doing that,” Eddie said.

Buck’s mouth twisted. “You don’t have to. I heard it the first time.”

Eddie took it because Buck deserved that much.

Then he stepped a little closer, careful with it. “I was angry when I said that.”

Buck gave him a quick, humorless look. “Doesn’t mean you were wrong.”

“It means I hurt you.”

Buck went quiet.

Eddie’s voice dropped. “And I’m sorry.”

Buck’s face shifted, like the apology had hit somewhere he had not braced for.

Eddie kept going before he could lose his nerve.

“You were trying to be there for me today. I saw that. You were trying so hard to give me room that you barely gave yourself any.”

Buck swallowed.

“You didn’t make it about you,” Eddie said. “You had feelings about something that involved you.”

Buck’s eyes flicked back to him.

Eddie held his gaze.

“Those aren’t the same thing.”

For a second, Buck looked like he wanted to argue.

Then his shoulders dropped.

Eddie gave him the quiet, because Buck looked like he needed it.

When Buck spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“When you said Beck asked you out, I realized men might have been on the table for you.”

Eddie swallowed.

“And then I realized maybe I was on the table,” Buck said. His breath caught a little. “Or maybe I could have been.”

Eddie could barely breathe.

Buck shook his head. “And then you went on the date anyway.”

“I know.”

“And I had Theo asleep down the hall, so I couldn’t even fall apart properly.” Buck let out a wet laugh and looked toward the hallway. “I alphabetized the spices in silence. I folded the same blanket three times. I watched fifteen minutes of a cartoon after he fell asleep because I forgot to turn it off.”

Eddie’s face softened.

Buck looked back at him. “I couldn’t call you. I couldn’t ask you to come home. You weren’t mine to ask that from.”

Eddie took that in.

The sentence cut through him clean.

You weren’t mine.

Eddie had spent years being Buck’s in every way except the one that would have let Buck say it out loud.

“I wanted to come here the second I knew,” Eddie said.

Buck’s breath caught.

“When Beck kissed me, I saw your face,” Eddie continued. “And for one second, I thought that was the answer. That I wanted someone like you.”

Buck went very still.

Eddie shook his head. “Then I realized how stupid that was. I don’t want someone like you.”

Buck’s eyes lifted to his.

Eddie’s voice broke a little. “I want you.”

Buck stared at him.

Eddie forced himself not to move.

No sudden step forward. No grabbing. No making Buck hold his feelings just because Eddie had finally found the courage to say them.

“I know the timing is bad,” Eddie said. “I know Theo is asleep down the hall. I know you have more on your plate than you’ve ever had, and I know I’m showing up after a date with somebody else. I hate that part. I hate that I needed it to understand what was already right in front of me.”

Buck’s face cracked a little.

Eddie kept his hands at his sides.

“But I couldn’t go home without telling you. And I’m not asking you to fix it for me. I’m not asking you to make it simple. I’m asking you to tell me the truth.”

Buck’s voice was almost gone. “What truth?”

Eddie looked at him, terrified and steady at once.

“Tell me if I’m wrong.”

Buck stopped breathing.

Eddie’s eyes burned.

“Tell me I’m wrong, and I’ll go. I’ll never push this again. I’ll still be your best friend. I’ll still be here for Theo, if you want me to be. I’ll still show up with Chris for dinner, and we’ll figure out how to get back to whatever we were before.”

Buck’s jaw tightened.

“But if I’m not wrong,” Eddie said, softer now, “please tell me. Because I can’t stand here and pretend I don’t know what I know anymore.”

Buck looked wrecked.

Eddie waited.

It felt like the longest wait of his life.

Then Buck whispered, “You’re not wrong.”

Eddie’s whole body went still.

Buck swallowed hard.

“You’re not wrong,” he said again, stronger this time. “I don’t know when it started. I don’t know if there was a moment I missed, or if it happened so slowly I just built my whole life around you and called it normal.”

Eddie’s breath left him.

Buck stepped closer.

Only one step.

“I wanted it to be me,” Buck admitted. “When you said Beck asked you out, I wanted it to be me. And then I felt awful, because you were trying to figure yourself out, and I was jealous.”

Eddie shook his head. “Buck.”

“I was,” Buck said. “I was so jealous I thought I was going to crawl out of my skin. And then you texted me that you were coming over, with no explanation, and I thought…”

His voice broke.

Eddie stayed where he was, every instinct in his body fighting to reach out.

Buck swallowed hard.

“I thought you were coming here to tell me it went well. That you liked him. That I had to stand there and be happy for you because I’d already spent the whole day telling you I was okay.”

Buck took another breath.

“I thought I was too late.”

Eddie’s face crumpled.

“You’re not,” he said immediately. “You’re not too late.”

Buck gave him a shaky look. “You sure?”

Eddie’s laugh came out wrecked. “Yeah.”

Then the hallway door creaked.

Both of them froze.

A small, sleepy voice called, “Buck?”

Buck turned instantly.

Theo stood in the hallway in dinosaur pajamas, hair rumpled, one hand wrapped around the stuffed rabbit he had started sleeping with two weeks ago. His eyes were barely open.

Buck wiped under his eye quickly, then crouched a little. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

Theo shuffled closer. “I heard talking.”

“Yeah,” Buck said, voice soft in a way that made Eddie’s throat tighten. “Sorry. We were being too loud.”

Theo looked at Eddie.

Eddie gave a small wave. “Hey, Theo.”

Theo leaned into Buck’s side. “Hi.”

Buck’s hand settled gently on the back of his head. “You want me to tuck you back in?”

Theo nodded.

Buck looked at Eddie.

The entire conversation hung between them, unfinished and alive.

Eddie stepped back. “Go.”

Buck hesitated.

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie said quietly. “Unless you want me to.”

Buck’s eyes searched his face.

Then he nodded. “Okay.”

Buck picked Theo up, and Theo immediately curled into him, cheek pressed to Buck’s shoulder like he belonged there.

Eddie watched Buck carry him down the hall.

Something inside him ached at the sight.

Buck, careful and murmuring. Buck, who had been terrified for hours and still became steady the second Theo needed him. Buck, who was not waiting around to be chosen because his life was already full of people who chose him every day.

Eddie sat on the edge of the couch while he waited.

He looked at the toys on the floor, the picture books, the half-folded blanket. He could hear Buck’s low voice down the hall, soothing Theo back to sleep.

A few minutes later, Buck came back.

He paused at the edge of the living room.

“He’s out again,” Buck said.

Eddie stood.

Buck looked nervous now. More nervous than before, maybe because the interruption had given them both time to realize what they had said.

“I meant it,” Eddie said before fear could take the room back. “I’m not leaving unless you want me to.”

Buck shook his head. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Eddie nodded.

Buck stepped closer again, slow this time.

“I need you to know something,” Buck said.

“Okay.”

“This can’t be…” Buck looked down, then back up. “I can’t be someone you try because Beck made you curious.”

Eddie’s face softened.

“Buck.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“I have Theo now. And Chris is part of my life. And you’re already part of all of it. If we do this and it goes wrong…”

His voice caught.

Eddie understood.

They were not just risking awkward shifts and hurt feelings.

They were risking dinners and school pickups and movie nights and Chris rolling his eyes from the couch and Theo reaching for whoever was closest. They were risking the family they had built without admitting they were building one.

Eddie took that seriously.

“I don’t want to try you,” Eddie said. “I want to choose you.”

Buck’s eyes went wet.

“And I know saying it once doesn’t make it safe,” Eddie continued. “I know I have to prove it. I know we have to talk to Chris. And Theo, when it makes sense. And I know we can go as slow as you need.”

Buck whispered, “I don’t want slow right this second.”

Eddie’s breath caught.

Buck gave a shaky little laugh. “I mean, I do. Overall. Big picture. Responsible adult. Parent. All that.”

Eddie smiled despite the ache in his chest.

“But right now,” Buck said, looking at his mouth and then back to his eyes, “I really want you to kiss me.”

Eddie did not move yet.

“Can I?”

Buck’s face softened.

“Yeah,” he said. “Please.”

That was all Eddie needed.

He stepped in, one hand coming up to Buck’s jaw, and Buck leaned into the touch before Eddie could even settle there. Then Buck was moving too, closing the last inch himself, his hand catching in the front of Eddie’s jacket.

The kiss broke open fast.

There was no slow discovery, no careful testing. Buck kissed him back immediately, hungry and shaking, pulling Eddie closer until there was no space left between them. Eddie’s other hand found Buck’s waist, fingers tightening there, and Buck made a small sound against his mouth that almost took Eddie’s knees out.

Eight years of almost became this.

Every look across a kitchen. Every shoulder pressed together on a couch. Every hospital room. Every family dinner. Every time Eddie had wanted to stay and every time Buck had let him.

Buck’s hand slid up to the back of Eddie’s neck, holding him there, and Eddie went with it. He kissed Buck harder, overwhelmed by the simple fact that he was allowed to. That Buck wanted him. That Buck was choosing this with both hands fisted in his jacket and his mouth opening under Eddie’s like he had been waiting just as long.

Eddie had kissed Beck and found the truth.

He kissed Buck and found home.

Buck broke away first, barely, breathing hard against Eddie’s mouth.

Neither of them moved far.

Eddie’s thumb swept over Buck’s cheek, and Buck’s eyes opened slowly, bright and dazed.

“Okay,” Buck whispered.

Eddie swallowed, still trying to catch up to his own heartbeat. “Okay?”

Buck nodded, breath shaking. “Yeah. Okay.”

A helpless smile pulled at Eddie’s mouth.

Buck huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t look so relieved.”

“I’m very relieved.”

“Yeah?”

Eddie’s hand tightened at his waist.

“Buck,” he said, voice low. “I have wanted to do that for longer than I knew what to call it.”

Buck stared at him for half a second.

Then he kissed him again.

Down the hall, Theo made a small sound in his sleep.

Both of them turned their heads automatically.

Then Buck laughed under his breath.

Eddie looked back at him, smiling.

“Parent reflex,” Buck said.

“Yeah.”

Buck’s smile softened, but the vulnerability came back with it.

“You really want all of this?” he asked. “Me. Theo. Chris. The schedules. The mess. The fact that my life is not exactly simple right now.”

Eddie looked at him, steady and sure.

“Buck,” he said. “I’ve been in all of this for years.” Eddie’s voice softened. “I know it’s different now. I know Theo changes things. I know we have to be careful. I know this can’t just be about us.”

Buck swallowed.

“But I’m not standing here because I want the easy version,” Eddie said. “I want the real one.”

Buck stared at him, eyes wet.

“The one with Chris stealing the remote,” Eddie continued. “The one with Theo waking up in the middle of the night. The one with family dinners and school pickups and figuring out what we tell people and when. The one where we go slow where we need to.”

Buck looked down, smiling through it.

“You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not.”

Buck laughed softly.

Eddie smiled back. “But it’s us.”