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When he hears Buck's rushed "No Chris, don't get your dad!" as he walks towards the backdoor, he knows something went wrong.
Eddie quickens his steps.
Trouble comes kind of unexpectedly. The day had been perfect so far - one of the last hot, sunny days of the year. They'd spent almost all of it outside. First, a picnic on the lawn. Then ice cream and a lazy afternoon stretched out on the patio, soaking up the lingering warmth of the sun.
Eventually, Chris and Buck had decided to test out Chris's new kite. While Buck and Chris took turns, each trying to get the kite higher and higher into the sky, Eddie had done a bit of gardening nearby, keeping an eye on them the entire time and periodically reminding them to reapply sunscreen. Now the sun was already hanging low, soon to be setting. Eddie had just quickly gone inside to grab them something to drink.
What could have happened in the five minutes he'd been in the kitchen?
He gets his answer the moment he steps out into the backyard.
Buck is sitting in a tree.
No - not kissing.
(Don't think about Buck kissing.)
Buck is perched awkwardly on one of the old oak's thick branches, several feets off the ground, enveloping it like his life depends on it. It’s the same tree Buck last year installed a swing onto one of its thick branches. Now he’s decidedly less confident than back then, when he was lecturing Eddie about weight limits and swing safety regulations that Eddie's fairly certain don't exist.
At the base of the trunk, Chris cranes back his head, one hand held up to shield his eyes from the setting sun as he squints up to him.
"But he could - " Chris begins, while Buck shakes his head frantically.
"Boys." Eddie's stern voice makes both of them freeze. He sets the tray with the lemonade down on the patio table as he makes his way over to the duo.
"Eddie, hey," Buck greets him far too cheerfully as if he hadn't just implored his son not to rat on him. As if he isn't currently clinging at a branch like a koala cub to its mother. "So... -"
Eddie holds up a hand, cutting him off. "I don't even wanna know. I left for five minutes -"
"Dad, my kite got stuck up there! Someone had to get it," Chris interrupts. “And Buck volunteered. Mostly because it was his fault," he adds quietly.
Eddie follows the direction his son points (ignoring Buck's shouted "Was not!") and sees the bright red toy tangled in a few branches above Buck's head, just out of his reach.
"Buck said he'd get it back," his son insists, eyes big. "We can't just leave it up there, that's littering!"
Eddie sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He's incapable of staying mad at this. They had played with that thing for hours. Of course they'd want it back.
He turns to look up to Buck, who has the same kind of pout on his face, nodding along at Chris' explanation.
He wants to kiss it away.
Huh.
What a weird thought to have about your best friend.
Eddie runs a hand over his face and takes a deep breath, shoving the thought away.
He has something more urgent to deal with right now.
"Okay," he resigns, as he steps closer and opens up his arms.
"Jump."
Buck looks at him as if he just asked him to dive out an airplane with no parachute, only being offered a thumbs-up.
"Jump." Buck echos, disbelieving.
"Yup. I'm right here," Eddie assures.
"Yeah, the way dad catches me when I jump off the swing," Chris adds encouragingly.
Eddie nods. "Exactly, just like that. I'll catch you, Buck."
"A-and I believe that," Buck kindly replies. "It's just - you know I weigh more than Chris, right?"
"Are you asking me if I know a 190 lbs firefighter weighs more than my nine-year-old son?" Eddie asks, one eyebrow raised.
Buck doesn’t answer, just stares at him.
Eddie lowers his arms.
"Buck, I know how much you weigh and I know I am able to catch you. I deadlift your weight, you've seen me work out."
There is a weird sound coming from above. "Yeah, I remember."
"You're not even that far up. You can just slide down. So don't be scared, I -"
"I'm not scared," Buck interrupts. "Chris, tell your dad I'm not scared."
"I don't know Buck," Chris contemplates, his face serious. "You kinda look scared."
"I - I'm not!" Buck splutters. "Eddie, tell him!"
Eddie sighs deeply.
For a split second, he considers getting the hose.
Instead, he turns to face Chris.
"Mijo, why don't you go inside and decide what movie we'll watch today?" He mumbles. "I'll get your Buck down from the tree."
He feels like he's at work, talking a worried kid through the rescue of a particularly stubborn cat.
Chris hesitates, clearly stuck between wanting to stay with his Buck and getting the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to choose a movie without their commentary or yelled ‘veto!’. Finally, he nods and makes his way back to the house.
Once the door closes behind him, Eddie looks back up.
He raises his voice. "Okay Buck. Chris went to decide what we're watching tonight and you know he will pick whatever has the most explosions in if we let him choose alone."
Buck groans at that.
"So you better move. You don't have to jump, just dangle yourself down and I'll help you.”
Eddie can see the way Buck’s grip tightens.
"I - you know," Buck begins. "I think I got it. Thank you though."
Silence.
"You got - what exactly?"
Buck over-confidently gestures between him and the ground.
"I got on this tree all by myself, didn't I? I can go back down on my own.”
"Alright." Eddie crosses his arms before his chest. "Let's see it then."
Buck pauses. Then, his right foot slowly descends down alongside the branch, searching for a foothold. Eddie can see the way he stretches his leg as far as he can without giving up on his death-like grip, or really - moving. But to no avail. Buck stares at the ground for a second too long. The foot hesitantly retreats back to its original position.
He stills for a moment, his expression carefully neutral.
Then -
"Did you know that hugging a tree is beneficial for your health?” Buck’s voice sounds out from above.
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek.
"Really?"
“It reduces stress and blood pressure and can even strengthen your immune system.”
“Huh.”
"Yeah. I already feel a lot more at peace up here.” Buck nods. "It's actually way comfier than one would think. You'd be surprised."
"It is?" Eddie asks politely. "Looks rather scratchy from down here.”
“That's the perspective.”
"You also look rather tense for someone who's been hugging a tree for the last 15 minutes," Eddie continues.
He can see the gears turning inside the blonde’s head.
"I'm just a little bit tired from getting up here.”
Eddie forces himself not to think about Buck's strong arms, and how he usually swings up and down the fire ladder without even breaking a sweat.
Again, not the time.
“Yeah, I think I'm gonna rest a bit. You know, take five,” Buck doubles down.
"Or you could, you know, rest down here,” Eddie suggests. “On the perfectly comfy couch in the house, while watching a movie with us.”
Buck nods. "That does sound good. Yep. But that couch is indoors, and - honestly - a little sat in already. This tree on the other hand - “ he brings a hand to the bark, petting it affectionately. “Perfect. I'm really appreciating the outdoors, fresh air and all. Maybe I'll even skip the movie," he suggests. "We are all overconsuming on screentime anyway.”
Eddie stares at him.
“That’s interesting."
“Hm?”
"That's what I've been saying for years, to which you always reply with 'okay Boomer'.”
"I don't remember that," Buck lies.
"Yeah, and then you send me that tiktok of the old guy screaming at his laptop with a 'lol thats u' and proceeded to call me and complain that you had to download that video 'like it's the olden days, Eddie' because you couldn't tag me because I refuse to install the application - do you remember that?”
"Doesn't ring a bell," Buck shrugs.
Eddie considers bringing up the Hildy situation.
Or the night-long internet searches.
Buck interrupts his thoughts.
"Hey, what do you think about taking Chris camping for our free weekend next Friday?”
"Buck," Eddie laughs. "Buddy. Are you sure you don't need help?
"Nopety-nope. All good up here, Eds."
"Bu - ”
"Eddie." Buck laughs nervously. "I'm a firefighter. What kind of firefighter is scared of heights? Come on. I can handle it."
Ah. There it is.
In Eddie’s mind, a little version of him flips open a big folder titled "Buck" searching for a dog-eared page and finding it.
Buck is scared.
Mini Eddie adds a little note to the list: ‘heights(?)’ and takes a quick peek at the footnotes scribbled down below.
He knows how to handle that.
"Hm. Well, if that's so then you should rest up there,” Eddie agrees.
Then he stops and - maybe a little too dramatically - lets his eyes go big.
“But Chris asked if you'd read him a bedtime story after the movie. Do you - want to skip that, too?" He quickly waves it off. "I mean, no pressure, I can read to him. But - " he makes his face go thoughtful. "He does like the way you make the voices more.”
Which - much to Eddie's personal affront - isn't even a lie.
Eddie sees Buck’s eyes go wide.
Got him.
"Oh.”
"Hmm. It's that book where the characters all have these long British names he struggles to pronounce. But he said reading with you helps him a lot.”
"Oh." A choked up sound comes from above.
"Yeah," Eddie goes on, voice soft. "You know he had a hard time asking for help. Think he said something along the lines of 'I'm nine dad, I should be able to read words longer than ‘cat’,” Eddie chuckles.
Then his expression softens. “I'm so proud of him for being brave enough to ask for help when he needs it.”
Buck seems to still for a moment.
Then, tentatively: "You are?"
"Of course," Eddie says, firmly. "Asking for help is one of the bravest things one can do. I know I struggled a lot with it. It was actually you who helped me through it. Remember - " he takes a breath. " - after I tried calling the people from my old unit?"
Another pause. Then -
"Eds." Buck almost whispers. "I need you to help me get down from here."
"You do, bud?" Eddie asks, gently.
"Yes please. I want to read with Chris."
"Alright," Eddie smiles, raising his arms back up again. "You have to slowly lower yourself down and I will grab your legs, alright?”
"Okay," Buck gulps.
Hesitantly, he lets his left foot dangle down. Then, inch by inch, he lowers himself, carefully. Eddie can see him tremble slightly.
"I got you," Eddie assures him. He finally gets a hold of Buck's foot. As Buck sinks further, Eddie's hands slip upwards, till he's grabbing at the back of Buck's tighs.
"I got you, Buck," he repeats. "You can let go."
He can feel Buck muscles tense at the suggestion.
"E-Eddie," Buck stutters out. "I'm scared."
The admission sounds painful. Like it costs him everything to be truthful.
"I know,” Eddie says calmly. “But I won't let you fall. I promise. You're already halfway to sitting on my shoulder, you just have to trust me.”
Buck takes a deep breath. "I do trust you,” he murmurs. Then he lets go.
For a second, Eddie's holding Buck's entire weight on his arms and shoulders. Then, he carefully lowers him to the ground.
"There you go, bud.”
Buck sighs in relief as his feet touch the ground. He awkwardly slides off Eddie's shoulder but makes no attempt to bring some space between them.
When Eddie straightens, he and Buck are face to face.
"Thank you," Buck mumbles shyly.
"Of course. Are you okay?" Eddie asks. "How is your leg?"
Buck steadies himself with his hand braced on Eddie’s shoulder while carefully testing his leg, shifting his weight inch by inch.
"All good,” he says quickly. “I'm just - just embarrassed.”
"You don't have anything to be embarrassed about." Eddie’s hands find a way to Buck's waist to further stabilize him through his leg stretch.
"I know,” Buck sighs. “I just don't know what happened, normally I'm not scared of heights. I - I think the situation kind of reminded me of when I fell from that tree as a kid." Buck laughs nervously, finally taking a step back.
Little Eddie adds a post-it to the note: ‘see childhood trauma.’
He remembers that story, although the details of what exactly happened are unknown to him.
“When you broke your arm?” he asks gently.
Buck looks at him in surprise, then nods.
They’re both still standing under the tree. They should head back inside to check up on Chris, go on with the evening.
But Eddie doesn’t move.
Not yet.
"Why were you even in that tree? Back then, I mean.”
Buck sheepishly scratches at the back of his neck.
"I climbed up there to see if I could spot Maddie's car from when she would come home from school,” he admits, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “I missed her.”
Eddie nods. He knows how important Maddie was and is to Buck. The only person back then that he could count on.
"Wasn’t anyone around to tell you that that’s a bad idea?” he asks, a faint attempt at lightness in his voice.
"Oh, my dad was home. He did." Buck tries - and fails - a smile.
He makes a face Eddie's seen him only make whenever he talks about Margaret and Phillip Buckley.
A mixture of hurt and resignation.
"He warned me to go up there and I ignored it. I was … a really difficult child," he says bitterly.
"Buck - ”
"I was crying. Screaming for help. Probably driving my dad crazy," he admits with a weak smile.
"Wait. He noticed what happened?" Eddie asks, taken aback.
Buck blinks at him.
“Yeah - he told me crying wouldn't get me down faster" he grimaces at the memory.
“He was there,” Eddie says slowly, making sure he heard it right. “And he didn’t help you when you were stuck in a tree?”
Buck looks at him as if it’s Eddie who didn’t make any sense.
"No, but he warned me,” Buck insists, his voice turning smaller. “And I can't first ignore his warning and then ask for help.” The words come out rehearsed, like they had been drilled into him over and over again. “He made that very clear."
He kind of looks like the little child Eddie imagines him to be back then, nervously kneading his hands while looking down on his feet. As if he expects Eddie to scold him for still being reckless.
Eddie feels a fresh surge of hatred for the Buckley parents.
Upon his stunned silence, Buck shifts slightly. "We should probably check on -”
“That’s not how this works.” Eddie’s voice is tight. “You were a child.”
Buck just shrugs. “I was always doing things like that.” He says it as if it would explain everything.
“You broke your arm,” Eddie presses. “You could have died because your dad wanted to teach you a lesson?”
“I was really -”
Eddie doesn’t let him finish. “What if it had been Chris?”
Buck blanches. He vehemently shakes his head.
“He - Eddie, Chris is a good kid, he wouldn’t have - “
“Yeah, yeah, Chris is good. And I know he can't actually climb a tree," Eddie waves a hand dismissively. "But how many times did he not listen to me?”
Buck looks at him, bewildered.
“That’s -
“Buck. What if it had been Chris?” Eddie demands.
A pause.
Then -
“You know I would have never done that to him,” Buck says, quietly.
“I know you wouldn’t. That’s not what I’m asking.”
A beat goes by.
“But what if your father did?”
Buck's face twists at that thought.
“I - you can’t compare me to Chris, Eddie. He’s - “ Buck wrings for the right words.
Eddie just shakes his head.
“You don’t have to be ‘good’ to deserve help, Buck.”
That lands. He can hear the way Buck's breath hitches.
”And Evan - ”
Buck’s eyes widen.
“ - you are good. And you were good back then, too.” Eddie adds, softer now.
He takes a step towards his friend and places his hand on his shoulder, thumb pressing into the spot over his collarbone.
“You've always had a big heart," Eddie insists. "Maddie told me how you used to rescue stray animals. Or how you always gave her half of your dessert because even then you liked to share - you were already kinder than most people ever learn to be."
Buck’s mouth opens, as if he wants to interrupt, but Eddie doesn’t let him.
“Buck, you liked to run around and test your boundaries, that’s what kids do. Your parents should have met you there, at your level,” Eddie’s eyes flitter over Buck’s face, trying to make him understand as he presses on. “You do it for Chris all the time. Every time he gets tired or is hurting, you slow yourself down for him.”
“Eddie,” Buck exhales, seemingly lost at words.
“You adapt,” he continues. “You meet him where he is. Today was a good day, so you two ran around the yard the whole time.”
He pauses.
Then -
“You’d never dream about treating Chris like that, so why would it be okay for someone else to treat you like that?”
Buck’s face crumbles.
Eddie doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he envelops the other man in a hug. He feels Buck’s body going boneless as he brings up his own hands to settle on Eddie’s back. He doesn’t comment on the tears he feels soaking through his collar.
After a while, he loosens his grip, though he doesn't let go completely.
“Come on, let’s go inside. Chris is surely waiting for us with half the popcorn already gone.”
“O-okay,” Buck sniffles.
Then he stills. His gaze wandering over to the oak.
“I didn’t get the kite.”
Eddie can see the way the other man eyes the tree, seemingly contemplating climbing back on it to save his son's toy.
His heart lurches in a weird way.
(What is this feeling - ?)
He grabs Buck by the wrist, dragging him towards the house, as he turns his face away from the other man to hide the smile tugging at his lips.
“Don't even think about it, Buckley."
Chris took losing his kite to the tree surprisingly well, especially after Buck told him that he would buy him an even bigger one.
They still watched the movie (Chris chose I, Robot, a movie Eddie despises). Ate popcorn. Made it halfway through the movie before Chris stated confidently that the robots would be less evil if they had a dog.
It was, Eddie suspected, less a commentary on artificial intelligence and more a campaign for a family pet.
And normally, both he and Buck would have enthusiastically joined the debate - Buck, naturally, taking Chris's side.
But today, they answered somewhat distractedly before fading back into silence.
It wasn't uncomfortable, no. But rather - loaded.
Like something was sitting between them, waiting.
When the movie comes to an end, Chris goes to brush his teeth. He’s at an age now where he insists on doing so alone and Eddie’s both proud and strangely nostalgic to see his son become more and more independent.
Buck and him both remain on the couch.
Outside, the golden evening had slowly given way to a darkening sky.
The television screen flickers dimly across the living room, the only sound heard is the water running through the pipes and the wind against the window.
Buck is the first to break the silence.
“Do you ever get tired of it?” He asks suddenly.
Eddie frowns, confused. He turns to face the other man, his expression barely visible in the darkening room. Buck doesn’t meet his eyes, hands grasping at his thighs tightly.
“Tired of what?”
Buck shrugs, his gaze fixed on the muted TV playing in the background. “Helping me. Picking up the pieces. Fixing things when I - ” He stops, jaw tightening. “When I make things weird.”
Eddie doesn’t answer, still staring at his side profile.
Buck shifts on the couch. “I just mean … you didn’t sign up for - whatever this is.”
Eddie leans back slightly, watching him. “You mean friendship?”
Buck groans. “I mean me and all the extra work that comes with it.”
“You know most people don't hand out house keys to people they're merely tolerating, right?” Eddie says mildly. "You're not work to me, Buck."
A faint flicker of something that looks almost like hope crosses Buck’s face, but it doesn’t settle.
“I’m serious, Eddie,” he says quieter. “You’re always the one who’s - resetting things. Making it okay again.”
Eddie studies him for a beat.
“I love that I’m able to do that for you,” he finally says, his expression serious. “You do the same for me.”
“That’s - “
“Do you ever get tired of us?” Eddie resorts. “How often have you helped me? Helped Chris?”
“That’s not the same,” Buck argues. “I - I love you guys.” He nods, self-affirming. "I love Christopher. I love being here. I love - "
He suddenly stops and goes still.
Eddie can see the way Buck’s eyes widen, his hands beginning to shake.
"I love..." Buck whispers.
Slowly, he turns to look at Eddie, his face twisting in - Angst? Realization? Hope?
“ - you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Eddie freezes.
Mini-Eddie, who has been quietly taking notes all evening, drops the folder.
It’s - that easy, isn’t it?
Because this isn’t new.
The way his chest always seems to loosen when Buck walks into a room. The way every good day somehow feels better when Buck is part of it. His heart beating twice as fast every time Buck flashes him a wide, beaming smile.
And okay, maybe he'd thought about kissing his best friend more than is considered normal.
This - this isn't some revelation.
It's recognition.
Relief fills his every being and he strangely has to suppress a giggle.
Buck's in love with him.
And he's in love with Buck.
They are in love with each other.
But then his eyes meet Buck's.
And the relief crashes headfirst into something else. Because Buck isn't looking at him like a man making a confession.
He's looking at him like a man awaiting a verdict.
As if he’s bracing for impact.
"Eddie, I -"
Eddie startles into reality. He opens his mouth, ready to answer when the door to the bathroom down the hall opens.
Immediately, Buck springs to his feet.
“Chris is waiting," he says, voice cracking.
And then he’s gone, practically fleeing down the hallway before Eddie can even begin to comprehend what just happened.
The house settles around Eddie again, quieter than it was a moment ago. Outside, rain taps lightly against the windows, the first drops of a summer storm beginning to form. It's the only indication that the world is still moving.
Eddie stares at the now empty space besides him.
“It is the same,” he whispers into the room.
Bedtime stories apparently now include emotional avoidance.
After he took a few moments to breathe, Eddie followed the sound of quiet voices down the hall, the devastated look in Buck’s eyes branded into his brain.
Mini-Eddie made sure it hurt.
When he reached Chris’ room, Buck’s face was wiped clean of all emotions.
Eddie can see how the other man focuses on Chris. On the routine, on the steps.
He’s overly gentle.
As if he’s operating inside a bubble, afraid of accidentally bursting it.
Now, Eddie still leans against the door frame, arms crossed and a look of fondness in his eyes.
Buck’s right in the middle of imitating a (in Eddie's opinion) rather poor British accent, sitting cross-legged on the floor in his son's room, voice merely a whisper, while Chris is already snoring in his bed.
Either Buck doesn’t notice the lack of giggles and commentary or he just pretends not to. Eddie’s certain it’s the latter.
Because Buck is avoiding him.
He would be frustrated if he didn’t understand.
But he does.
Mini-Eddie has opened the Buck-lopdedia at ‘defence mechanisms’ and found the correlation between ‘blurts out inner thoughts’ and ‘complete emotional shut-down’.
He probably planned to silently leave when Eddie himself goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed, which he usually does while Buck reads to Chris.
Not today.
Because Eddie has no intent on letting Buck run.
So instead of going after his routine, he went to position himself between his best friend and the exit, blocking it.
That was an hour ago.
Eddie has been deliberately ignoring the increasingly irritated looks Buck shoots him as he doesn't move from his spot by the door.
Sure, holding his best friend hostage in his kid’s room is a rather unusual method to force a conversation but Eddie’s ready to commit to it.
So when Buck finally finishes the second book he started and promptly reaches for the next one, Eddie intervenes.
“He’s already asleep, bud." He keeps his voice lowered. "Been for the last quarter hour. You don’t have to keep going.“
Buck doesn’t look at him when he answers.
“So what, am I not allowed to read?” It’s not easy sounding snippish when speaking in a hushed tone, but Buck manages.
Eddie crooks his head.
“You read to yourself doing all the voices?”
"You don’t?” Buck resorts, then goes back to mouthing the words.
Fighting a smile, Eddie takes a quick look at the book Buck’s holding.
“Is that ‘The Cat in the Hat’?”
“So?” Buck huffs - still quietly. “I'm revisiting the classics.”
Eddie nods thoughtfully.
"And how's that going?"
"Great."
"Who's your favorite character?"
Buck blinks.
"The cat."
"Bold choice."
Buck huffs, turning yet another page he definitely isn't reading.
Eddie watches him.
"Buck."
The joking drains from his voice.
Immediately, Buck’s grip on the book tightens.
Eddie steps into his son’s room. Despite Buck going tense, he sits down right beside him, pressing his leg against the other’s.
For a moment, the only sound filling the room is the slow, equal breathing of his son and the deep rumbling of thunder in the distance.
It fills Eddie with absolute certainty.
This is what he wants.
The crazy adventures as well as the quiet routine.
Life with his two boys.
Tentatively, he lays his hand on Buck’s knee.
It’s enough to make the other man inhale sharply and slowly lower the book he’s been holding up like a shield.
"Chris isn't even reading that anymore. He says it's for babies," Eddie says, voice soft.
Buck doesn't look at him when he answers.
"Well, maybe he's growing up too fast.”
There is a pause.
Chris shifts in his sleep.
The house creaks.
Eddie reaches over and gently takes the book from Buck's hands.
“Hey,” Eddie begins, tone gentle but serious.
Buck briefly closes his eyes, bracing himself.
"You don't have to say anything back,” he rushes out.
Eddie shifts even closer.
"Look at me."
Buck hesitates, but finally he lifts his head.
The second their eyes meet, Buck’s mask cracks.
And - he’s obviously terrified. His eyes filled with the certainty that he's messed up.
As if he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for Eddie to tell him everything has changed.
But instead, Eddie reaches out to lightly stroke back a curl from Buck's face.
Buck timidly leans into the touch.
Just a little.
But enough.
For a moment, they sit in silence, the steady drumming of rain against the window the only sound in the dimly lit room.
"Do you remember how you drove me to Chris' school after the earthquake?" Eddie suddenly interrupts the quiet.
That makes Buck look up.
"Of course. That's how I first met Chris."
Eddie nods.
"When we got to the school," he says softly, "I was only thinking about him."
Buck's expression goes fond.
"Of course you were."
"When I stepped out of your car to get my son, you were still just a coworker to me," Eddie continues. "I found him. I hugged him." He swallows. "And for a second, everything else disappeared."
Buck nods, still following.
“ - But then I turned,” Eddie carries on, his tone quieter now, almost reverent. “You had stepped out of the car and then you looked at Chris and - "
Eddie clears his throat, blinking fastly.
"You lightened up. I've never seen someone look at him like that before. Like I look at him."
Buck stares at him, wide eyed.
"You looked relieved," Eddie recalls with a fond smile. "Like finding him mattered to you too."
Buck breath hitches. His eyes flicker first up then down again, like he's afraid of where Eddie is leading with this but can't get himself to look away.
"And when you crouched down, and he extended his hand and you called him 'Sir' to make him laugh I - " Eddie catches his gaze, both of their eyes shining. "I knew you'd become so much more than just a coworker to me. To us."
He pauses.
Then -
"You became family so fast I didn't even notice it happening."
Buck’s eyes stay on him, wide and unguarded.
"One day you were just a coworker - barely even tolerating me."
Eddie playfully knocks his shoulder against him.
"The next day you were helping Chris with homework."
Buck swallows, but smiles tentatively.
Eddie upholds eye contact.
"Then you just started living here."
Something flickers across Buck's face. He exhales shakingly.
"And although he's the best kid in the world - I know it's not always easy with a disabled child. Even if I don't like to admit it." Eddie laughs wetly, raising his hand to stop Buck's forming protest.
“He needs help, a lot more than other children. But he never even has to ask. You’re always just - there."
Eddie looks at Buck, his expression soft.
"When he had those horrible nightmares, you were right here with me, on this bedroom floor and you never let go of his hand, even when he was already asleep."
Suddenly it's Eddie who breaks eye contact, looking down to his lap.
"Don't even get me started on me." He ignores the way Buck's brows furrow with disagreement. "My nightmares, my emotional detachment issues, my PTSD. Every time a firework or even a car goes off I fu -"
He lowers his voice with a quick glance at Chris' sleeping form.
" - I fucking lose it. How many times did you help calm me down?"
Buck leans even closer, before he stops himself mid-motion, like his body moved without permission.
His hands lift slightly off his lap, reaching hesitantly for the other man, before dropping down again.
"Eds."
Eddie looks up, a reassuring smile forming on his face at the obvious worry in Buck's eyes.
"Evan, you do so much for us," Eddie whispers, the fondness in his voice palpable.
Buck inhales shakingly.
“You asked me if I ever get tired of you. This is my answer."
He leans in, bringing their faces closer together.
"I couldn't imagine a version of my life that didn't have you in it."
Buck looks utterly wrecked at the words.
Eddie slowly reclines, giving Buck a moment to process everything he said.
Then he waits.
Offering Buck the opportunity to run if he wants to, now that he said his piece.
But Buck stays, wiping snifflingly over his eyes.
Eddie breaks the pause.
"So let me ask you." He reaches over and takes Buck's right hand into his own. "Do you ever get tired of us?"
"Never." Buck's voice is coarse, but firm, his eyes fixated on their intertwined hands.
"Why?"
There is a last bit of hesitancy left as Buck looks up. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
"You were brave enough to say it once," Eddie smiles, squeezing his hand. "You can be brave one more time.”
And Buck?
Buck takes the leap.
“I love you.”
And Eddie catches him before he can hit the ground.
Because Eddie would never let him fall.
“I love you too, Evan.”