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Eddie never considered himself to be a lucky person. That’s not to say nothing good ever happened to him - on the contrary, he has plenty to be grateful for. He has a job he loves – a vocation, even. He has a found family in the 118 that loves him with a conviction most people could only dream of. He has a best friend he would lay down his life for, and vice versa. And he has Christopher, who is undoubtedly the best good thing that has ever happened to anyone.
But all that good comes with some caveats. The job he loves has put him through a host of painful injuries and traumatising experiences. His beloved found family has suffered some terrible losses. His feelings for his wonderful best friend are twisted up in shame, repression, and Catholic guilt. And his beautiful child was born out of an unplanned teenage pregnancy that destroyed his relationship with his family.
So at the end of the day, Eddie doesn’t consider himself to be lucky, or unlucky. The universe is random, bestowing joys and sorrows without rhyme or reason.
Which is why, when Eddie wakes up in a quiet, sterile hospital room with a pounding in his head and absolutely no memory of his life, the good or the bad, he doesn’t chalk it up to luck of any kind. This is just the way of things.
When Eddie’s vision finally clears, he spends a few moments staring up at the white, water-stained ceiling, trying to think through the pain. He isn’t sure where he was, although the rhythmic beeping hinted at some kind of hospital. He doesn’t know what he has done to land himself in a hospital. He can’t remember. He can’t, come to think of it, remember much of anything.
He knows his name - Eddie Diaz. And he knows what a hospital is, as well as the kinds of things that could land you in one. If he casts his thoughts back, he can picture stern faces that might have been his parents and smiling ones he thinks are his sisters, as well as a few vague, swirling memories of long school days and playing outside in the hot Texas sun.
Childhood memories – that’s what they are. But he knows he isn't a child, and thus should have some recollection of what he does for work, where he lives, who his friends are – anything.
Maybe, he thinks as he finally takes in the rest of the room, he should recognize the man slumped over in the corner, fast asleep with one knee tucked into his chest and his face smooshed against his folded arms.
It’s a good face. Strong jaw, full lips, and a distinctive pink birthmark near his eyebrow. Something lurches in Eddie’s stomach at the sight. Affection, maybe, but with a dark undercurrent of shame that surprises Eddie for the first time since waking up. He isn’t surprised he’s lost his memory. With the way his head is aching, it seems only natural. But he can’t figure out why looking at such a beautiful man and recognizing him as beautiful would get such an immediate and negative reaction from his gut. He decides to ignore the feeling.
Eddie clears his throat. “Hey,” he chokes out, voice a mere croak.
The man reacts as though he had shouted, bolting upright in an instant, his tangle of limbs flailing as he rubs his eyes and beholds Eddie. Immediately, his face breaks into a wide smile that transforms him from merely beautiful to an absolute work of art. His bright blue eyes are crinkled with joy, and Eddie feels that now familiar clench in his gut at the sight.
“You’re awake!” He gasps, striding over to kneel at Eddie’s bedside, carefully taking his hand. “How do you feel? Wait, let me get the doctor. Just a second!”
As quickly as he’d come over, he leaps to his feet and bounds out of the room. Eddie stifles a laugh at the man’s clear exuberance, but his mirth evaporates when he realizes he will soon have to admit he doesn’t remember any part of his recent life – including the man who was so happy to see him awake.
Maybe 20 seconds pass before the man comes back in, flanked by a tall woman in dark blue scrubs.
“Mr. Diaz,” she greets him with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
He shifts a bit in the hospital bed. “Not too bad. My head really hurts, though.”
“That’s to be expected, given what you went through. You have a severe concussion, but there’s no significant damage to the brain. Overall, you got very lucky, Mr. Diaz.”
Lucky. Yeah, sure.
Eddie decides to get it over with – there’s nothing to be gained by keeping things from his doctor. “I’m, uh, having some… memory issues?” He pointedly keeps his eyes on the doctor, but still hears the man’s sharp intake of breath. “All I can remember are some vague things from my childhood. I don’t really know anything about my life right now.”
The doctor smiles sympathetically. “This is a possibility we were aware of. With severe head trauma, a few different types of amnesia can take effect. If you remember certain things, but nothing recent, it could be retrograde amnesia. It shouldn’t keep you from developing new short term memories, which is good.”
“But will his memories come back?” The man asks, voice tight and desperate, and Eddie finally looks at him. His body language is that of a person trying not to totally freak out, and getting maybe half of the way there. “They’ll come back, right?”
The doctor is already nodding, reassuring. “Most forms of amnesia are temporary, although the speed and completeness of memory recovery can vary. It could take a few hours, or it could take weeks. I’ll do a full exam now to determine if you’re safe to go home, and if Mr. Diaz’s memories don’t return in a few days, we’ll put together a more active treatment plan. Therapy can be very helpful in cases of long-term amnesia. But with any luck, your memory will return on its own as your brain heals itself.”
Eddie nods, the word luck bouncing around his too-empty head. He still doesn’t know how he’d ended up with a head injury, but he doesn’t think it was from an abundance of luck.
After the exam, it’s just Eddie and the man alone in the room. The doctor gave Eddie a clean bill of health (other than the concussion and, well, you know) and told him he was good to go home. She left them both with clear care instructions, and it became evident to Eddie that this man would be the one taking care of him. But why? What is he to me?
The man is sorting through the pages of the care instructions with an intense look of concentration on his face, so Eddie feels a bit bad tearing his attention away.
“Hey,” he says warily, and the man’s head shoots up, eyes wide and laser-focused.
“Is something wrong? Should I call the doctor back?”
Eddie shakes his head. “No, no, I think I’m good to go just…” he hesitates, knowing his next words will inevitably sting. “Who are you? No one’s told me.”
He watches the man’s face freeze, but it doesn't fall. No, his mouth goes stiff in a way that probably means he’s trying to hold back his emotions, and doing a pretty good job, all things considered. He forces his face into a friendly smile.
“I’m Buck. Buck Bu - well, Evan Buckley, but everyone calls me Buck. We met at work, like eight years ago. We’re firefighters. I’m, well, I’m your partner.”
Partner.
Oh, wow.
Eddie has never heard a better word. This man, this beautiful man, clearly kind too, by the way he paid devoted attention to Eddie’s discharge instructions and held back his sadness and fear to stay strong for Eddie – this man is his partner. They were together.
“Do we -” he gulps, barely daring to hope. “Do we live together?”
Buck nods furiously. “Yes! Me, you, and Christopher.”
Eddie gasps, like actually gasps. “Do we… is he…”
Buck’s smile turns gentle. “Christopher is your son. He’s fifteen now, and he’s the best kid in the world.”
Eddie’s chest feels warm. Christopher. The name is familiar, like a song he’d heard long ago and couldn’t quite place. The image of a swaddled, screaming infant comes to mind suddenly - a memory, he’s sure of it.
“His mom, Shannon, died about a year ago,” Buck continues, voice careful. “But you’ve been divorced for years. She was… a good person. Christopher loved her - still loves her, of course.”
Eddie nods, mind racing a little. Shannon. The name is also familiar, accompanied by a blurry image of a woman’s face. This memory feels bittersweet, though, tinged with grief and regret. Eddie isn’t sure, but he suspects his marriage to this Shannon hadn’t been as happy as his relationship with Buck clearly is.
“We’re firefighters?” He confirms. “Is that how I got injured?
Buck winces. “We were evacuating a burning building downtown. Chim – he’s our captain, also my brother-in-law, anyway – Chim ordered us to draw back because it was unstable.”
“We didn’t listen?”
“We’re good firefighters, I swear, just… not always the best at following directions. It was a townhouse, one of those old-fashion looking ones with tons of floors, and we hadn’t checked the top floor yet. So we went up. I thought we had more time…”
Buck’s face has gone drawn and tight as he revisits the memory. None of it rings a bell for Eddie, but he can imagine it still – the suffocating heat and thick smoke, standing with Buck amidst the flames and deciding they had to keep going, save whoever they could.
So Buck (his partner Buck, which is still mind-blowing) is a little reckless. But so is he, clearly. Reckless, but for a good cause.
“We went upstairs. It was an attic bedroom, and there was a little boy. He was terrified, just frozen in fear. You started towards him, and…” Buck made a vague swinging gesture. “A beam came loose. It hit you square on the head, knocked you out cold. I thought… well, I thought it might have killed you. It came out of nowhere, Eddie, it was just so fast. I couldn’t get you out of the way.”
Buck’s brow is furrowed, lips pursed together in a way that Eddie somehow knows means he is fighting back tears. On instinct, he reaches out, grabbing Buck’s hand.
“It isn’t your fault.”
Buck keeps his eyes on their intertwined hands. “You don’t know that. You don’t even remember it.”
“I know I survived. How did I survive, Buck? I’m knocked out in a burning building with only you and a small child. How am I alive?”
Buck sniffles a little now, swiping at his eyes with his free hand. “I - I put you on my back. And I had the little boy hold on to my front.”
“You carried both of us out at the same time?”
“The kid barely weighed anything.”
Eddie squeezes his hand, chest tight and warm. “Buck. You saved my life. You saved two people that day.”
“I wouldn’t have had to if I just protected you from the start,” Buck says miserably.
“You had my back,” Eddie insists vehemently. This, for some reason, makes Buck finally look up, eyes wide. “You got me out of there. I’m okay, Buck. We’re going home.”
Buck is quiet for a moment, searching Eddie’s face. Then he pulls their clasped hands to his forehead, letting out a deep breath. “You’re okay,” he repeats. It sounds like a prayer. “We’re going home.”
Eddie doesn’t have any memories of driving home from hospitals, but he’s pretty sure it isn’t supposed to be this fun. They started out in somewhat awkward but companionable silence, with Buck sneaking looks at Eddie from the driver’s seat and Eddie pretending it didn’t make his heart flutter in his chest.
After a few minutes, Buck turns on the radio, and Eddie discovers that despite barely remembering his own son, he does remember all the words to Mr. Brightside. The mind works in mysterious ways. Buck starts singing along quietly, seemingly unable to contain himself, and Eddie joins in at the chorus. Before long they’re yelling the lyrics, heads banging along and Buck playing the steering wheel like a drum.
When the song crashes to close they’re laughing, Eddie unabashedly staring at Buck, whose face goes from shockingly gorgeous to probably crafted by the gods when he laughs. Neither of them knows the next song, but Buck hums along anyway, asking Eddie if he minds if they roll down the windows.
Eddie has this sense that he is maybe not a windows-down kind of person on a normal day. But this is not a normal day by any measurement. Plus, he likes that Buck had asked. He seems like a considerate guy.
Just like that, an image pops into his head, so clear it must be a memory. There’s Buck – curly hair and birthmark in all their glory – sitting at a kitchen table with a young boy, maybe ten years old. Chris, his brain supplies. They’re huddled over some spread out papers, working on a math problem, both serious-faced and focused.
Chris scribbles something down, then looks at Buck for reassurance. Buck’s face breaks out into a heart-melting smile, and he offers Chris a high-five, which he returns with gusto.
Considerate. Yep, that’s his Buck. Considerate, caring - a great partner, and an even better dad. All that is obvious now. But…
“Tell me about Chris,” Eddie blurts out. He was going for calm and curious, but his voice comes out plaintive, almost desperate.
“Oh, yeah, of course, I should’ve done that way sooner.” Buck looks like he’s kicking himself. “Chris is… well, he’s the greatest kid in the world. And you’re an amazing dad. The two of you love each other like crazy.”
“You said he’s fifteen?”
“Yeah, and he’s got the attitude to prove it,” Buck laughs. “But seriously, he’s very kind, very smart. Constantly curious about the world. I think he’ll make an amazing scientist one day. He was born with cerebral palsy and uses crutches to get around, but he’s never let that stop him from doing anything he sets his mind to. Because that’s what you taught him.”
“And you, too.”
Buck blinks. “Me?”
“Yeah,” Eddie nods, confident in his assertion. “I may not remember much, but I know that. Something about… skateboarding?”
Buck’s face absolutely lights up. “You remember!?”
“Barely. Little things are coming back. But didn’t you build something for him so he could skateboard?”
Delighted, Buck tells him the whole story, and Eddie basks in his obvious love for their son. They go back and forth like that for the rest of the drive, Buck sharing precious information about Chris and Eddie asking follow-up questions.
He learns that Chris loved dinosaurs when he was younger but was currently into astronomy and had been begging them both for this high-tech telescope he’d found online. He learns that he, Chris, and Buck have a weekly movie night on Saturdays that is so sacred to the three of them that only life-and-death emergencies lead to its cancellation.
He learns that things haven’t always been smooth sailing between the two of them. Eddie had been deployed in the army when Chris was young, so he’d missed some of his formative years. But according to Buck, those lost years had only made Eddie a more attentive and doting father today.
It’s not until they pull into the driveway of a cozy-looking bungalow that Eddie feels a jolt of nerves. He’s about to meet his son. His son, who he’s known for fifteen years and yet barely knows at all. Who he’s starting to remember more clearly as a baby but can only vaguely picture as the moody teenager he is today.
Buck seems to sense his shift in mood, and takes his hand as soon as the car is in park. “Christopher is the bravest kid I know,” he says seriously, blue eyes fixed on Eddie. “He’s been through a lot, which obviously sucks, but it’s made him the resilient person he is today. I talked to him on the phone earlier when you were getting checked out, and he’s just happy you’re alive and coming home.”
Eddie swipes at his eyes, which are burning all of a sudden, and takes a shaky breath. “Okay,” he says, squeezing Buck’s hand and managing a small, but real smile. “Let’s go home, then.”
The second Buck opens the door and Eddie’s eyes land on Christopher, who’s sitting on the couch in the living room but turns his head when he hears them enter, Eddie forgets why he was worried.
“Dad!”
Chris runs to him, crutches skittering across the floor, and throws himself into his dad’s arms. As Eddie holds him close, just breathing him in, a few pulses of memory seep into his brain, warm and familiar like they were never missing at all. Chris, a wide-eyed and stubborn toddler. Chris, waving at Eddie from the window of a school bus. Chris, groaning loudly when Eddie gives him a kiss on the head but still muttering back I love you too.
Eddie pulls back, just a little, to make a grabby hand at Buck, signalling that he should join the hug. When no Buck joins, he glances back.
Buck looks surprised, and a little confused. He points at his chest like who, me? Eddie waves him over more vigorously.
Finally, a large, warm body presses around him and Chris, and for that moment, everything is right in the world.
Things honestly feel even more right when, in typical teenage fashion, Chris begins to squirm under so much loving attention, and politely demands to be released.
Eddie does so, ruffling his hair and groaning a bit as he stands up. His head still aches, and the lights on in the house feel immensely bright. But it’s okay. Eddie is a simple man. If he has his son, and he has his Buck, who cares about a little (severe) concussion?
“Dad.” Chris looks uncharacteristically nervous all of a sudden. His eyes dart around the room, briefly landing on him, then Buck, then down to the floor. “Is it true that you don’t remember anything? Like, you don’t remember me?”
“Oh, mijo. Of course I remember you. Some of the details may have gotten lost, but they’re already starting to come back to me. You’re my son. I could never truly forget you.”
Chris is crying a bit now, and so is Buck. So is Eddie, maybe, a little. They all do a spectacular job of pretending it isn’t happening, though.
“Eddie,” Buck says softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Hen offered to take Christopher for the night so that you can get settled in easier. Would you like that, or no?”
Eddie isn’t quite sure who Hen is, not beyond a vague flash of familiarity, and he isn’t overly fond of the idea of Chris leaving his sight. But he doesn’t miss the way his son’s face brightens at the thought, and with that flash of familiarity comes a feeling of safety and trust, so…
“Would you like that, mijo?”
Chris nods slowly. “Denny - that’s Hen’s son - he has a new game I’ve been wanting to play. I was supposed to go over last night, but with everything that happened…”
“Sounds like fun.” Eddie smiles. “Buck, can you -”
Buck already has his keys back out, swinging them around his pointer finger. “Alright, Superman, get your stuff. You better enjoy tonight because tomorrow is movie night and it is my turn to pick, so you best believe we’re watching that new documentary on sea turtles.”
“The one with David Attenborough?"
“The one and only.”
Chris nods. “That’s acceptable.”
Before long, Buck is shepherding Chris towards the car, promising to be right back and squeezing Eddie’s shoulder as a goodbye. He had been hoping for a goodbye kiss, but maybe they didn’t do that in front of their son. God knew he had thought it was gross the rare times his parents had kissed in front of him when he was kid.
It was funny, Eddie thought, making his way aimlessly towards the kitchen. The doctor had explained that his memories may be graded – basically, that the newer the memory, the harder it would be to recall. That’s why he has no idea what he did yesterday before the accident, but his recollection of winning his first grade talent show is crystal clear.
He’s starting to think he can remember meeting Buck, but how they got together is a complete mystery to him. He’ll have to ask Buck to tell him the story.
He opens cabinets at random until he finds a plastic cup with the LAFD logo on it, then opens the fridge to find a surprisingly wide selection of juices. He almost just gets a glass of water instead, but something is telling him to just drink the juice. And if being an amnesiac has taught him anything, it’s to trust his instincts.
Sipping from his orange-peach-mango juice (what will Trader Joe’s think of next?), he looks over the fridge, taking in the report card stamped with A’s and B’s, a very old-looking crayon drawing of a firetruck, and a wealth of family photos.
There’s a few with bigger and bigger versions of Chris. One has Eddie holding a bundled up baby with just his bright red face peeking out, a blond woman who he now recognizes as Shannon lying in a hospital bed next to them. Both of them are looking at baby Christopher with a mixture of joy and terror. Eddie himself looks almost confused, like he didn’t know how he ended up holding the world’s most perfect baby, only that he was never putting him down.
There’s another photo with Chris as a little kid, sitting in the sand on some beach. His smile is wide and his face streaked white with sunscreen. He’s clutching two handfuls of seashells, displaying them with pride. Eddie is willing to bet some of those seashells are still in the house somewhere, cluttering a shelf or a memory box.
Near the center of the fridge is what Eddie decides is his favorite picture of all. There’s Chris, maybe middle school age, standing next to a poster board covered in pictures of the solar system and blocks of text. He is clutching a small trophy and at his side stands Buck - a younger Buck, smaller and less muscular, but with the same world-ending smile.
There are more photos on the mantle in the living room, an array of smiling faces that he mostly recognizes. There are stacks of thick books on the coffee table, brightly-colored throw pillows on the couch, and a collection of worn jackets hung next to the front door.
Evidence of a happy life, of people loved and time well-spent.
Eddie wonders if he appreciated it all enough in the past, or if he took it for granted.
Well, if he did, then at least one good thing would come out of his amnesia. Rediscovering his life proved to him just how good that life is. He vows to never forget that again.
Later, Eddie is perched on a stool by the counter, content to watch Buck as he cooks. Lasagna, he had proclaimed, a Buck classic. He had put on gentle music while he cooked, and is now humming along, swaying his hips a little bit. As he works, he tells stories of the 118 – of Hen, Chimney, Bobby, Ravi, and many others, all light funny anecdotes that make Eddie smile and feel wistful for the memories that still haven’t come back.
When the lasagna is ready, they move to the couch and choose a movie. Buck insists that it should be Eddie that picks.
“Oh!” Buck exclaims, eyes wide. “We could watch one of your favorites that you don’t remember anymore! Isn’t that the dream? To rewatch your favorite movie for the first time a second time?”
“But won’t that be boring for you?”
“Not a chance. I get to watch you watching it.”
That makes Eddie blush a little, ducking his head. “Am I really that interesting to you?”
“You have no idea,” Buck says, teasing, but also unexpectedly earnest. “I love watching movies with you, especially when it’s just us.”
“Why especially then?” Eddie is genuinely curious, but it doesn’t hurt that his question makes Buck flush a little, toying with a throw pillow.
“Well, when we watch movies with other people, you’re more… restrained, I guess. You’ve always been kinda reserved – not that it’s a bad thing!” Buck rushes to assure him. “It’s nice, how calm and collected you are most of the time. But when it’s just us, you tend to… let loose a little more. Your reactions to things are bigger.” Buck shrugs awkwardly. “And that’s nice too.”
Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that. Buck looks so pretty with his cheeks all pink, his birthmark flushed darker as well. After all their time together, Buck still gets flustered giving Eddie compliments. It’s… adorable.
“Guess I feel safest around you,” he finally says.
It’s the right thing to say, because Buck smiles, big and bright.
“Me too.”
They stare at each other for a long moment. Eddie is wondering if now is the time he should start leaning in when Buck clears his throat.
“So! Favorite movie. Do we want to go childhood, or recent?”
“Well, I kind of remember watching my favorite movies as a kid. How about you pick a movie I really liked from the past couple of years?”
With that, Buck flicks off the lights, and a recent Superman adaptation is put on the TV.
Eddie is a little surprised at first – he doesn’t remember being a huge Superman fan or anything – but quickly catches on to why he must have liked it so much.
The Superman in this movie reminds him so much of Buck. He’s big and powerful, but somehow nonthreatening. A bit bumbling and awkward, but in an endearing way. A strong, sweet man with a heart of gold.
There are other things he likes about the movie too. For one, he quite likes the way Buck truly is watching him, gauging his reactions. He seems delighted by Eddie’s every smile, laugh, and gasp.
The only thing detracting from the experience is the amount of space between them. They’re sitting on opposite sides of the couch, a couple of throw pillows in between them like a barrier. Like they’re just two bros hanging out. No homo.
Except the way Eddie feels about Buck is the opposite of no homo. It’s very homo. Full homo.
But as much as Eddie hates it, he knows the space is probably Buck’s way of being respectful. Like, you don’t remember us being partners, so I’ll keep my hands to myself for now. It’s a nice thought. If their situations were flipped Eddie would probably do the same thing, out of an abundance of caution and concern for Buck’s comfort.
But it’s not necessary. Eddie knows he would feel most comfortable wrapped up in those big, strong arms, Buck’s warm chest against his back. Maybe Buck’s fingers toying with his hair.
Yeah, that sounds nice. But how to make it happen…
He glances over at Buck, who is already looking at him, waiting to see a reaction to something Eddie had absolutely not been paying attention to.
He turns his eyes to the screen, tuning back into the movie. He can be subtle about this.
Over the course of the movie, Eddie slowly but steadily inches closer to Buck. It takes way too long, but by the final few scenes Eddie’s side is pressed up against Buck, who has oddly stopped watching Eddie and is staring, laser-focused, at the screen, not moving a muscle.
Huh. It is pretty engaging, Eddie supposes, even if you remember the plot like Buck does.
Just as Superman kisses Lois Lane, Eddie makes his move, plonking his head down (perhaps a bit too hard) on Buck’s shoulder.
Buck makes a small noise, barely audible. Eddie can’t interpret it. Maybe surprise?
Whatever it is, Eddie is pretty sure it’s positive, because Buck’s body finally relaxes, and Eddie sinks into his side.
They sit there, pressed together, all through the credits. Not exchanging a word, just basking in each other’s warmth and nearness.
Buck doesn’t move to kiss Eddie, or even put an arm around him. But it’s okay. Eddie feels like he could fall asleep right here. His head is hurting less now with the pain medication Buck gave him earlier, and his eyes are getting heavy…
“Alright,” Buck’s bright voice snaps him back to wakefulness. “Time to get you to bed.”
He hauls Eddie off the couch and shows him to the bathroom, where they brush their teeth in peaceful familiarity.
Buck shows Eddie where the bedroom is, although Eddie kind of remembers by now. Eddie starts taking off his jeans to get into bed when Buck suddenly turns his back.
“Well!” He chirps, way too bright. “Goodnight! I’ll make breakfast tomorrow, okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, Buck marches back out to the living room.
Now in his boxers and t-shirt, Eddie follows him, confused. “Where are you going?”
“To bed?”
Eddie points behind him. “Bed is that way, bud. You gave me the tour.”
Buck points to the couch. “My bed is here.”
“You’re planning to sleep on the couch?” Eddie is once again touched by the sentiment, and exasperated by the foolishness. “Buck, that’s ridiculous. You’re a giant.”
Buck scoffs. “I’ve slept on the couch plenty of times. It’s fine.”
“You’ll mess up your back. C’mon, stop being silly.” Eddie grabs for Buck’s hand, but he pulls it back sharply, like he’s been burned.
“What’s wrong?” Eddie asks, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.
“Nothing!” Buck insists. “I just - I don’t - it’s your first night back, Eds. I don’t want to be… too much.”
Eddie’s stomach clenches, heart hurting at the thought of Buck feeling like he’s too much. Wondering if someone has told this precious man that. Wanting to hit that someone several times, very hard.
“Buck.” Eddie keeps his voice low. “You are never too much. Never. It’s my first night back, and I want you to be near me. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise. Okay?”
Buck swallows, eyes still on the floor. “Okay,” he says softly.
This time when Eddie takes his hand, Buck lets him. They walk to the bedroom. Eddie climbs under the covers as Buck shyly undoes his belt and wriggles out of his jeans. He turns off the overhead light and gets into bed.
It’s quiet for a minute as they both shift around, getting comfortable on their respective sides of the bed and letting their eyes adjust to the darkness. It’s nice. It’s normal.
Eddie feels crazy. He’s lying in bed next to the love of his life (they’ve known each other for eight years, what else could Buck be to him?) and yet it’s like there’s a wall between them. A wall put up by Buck for Eddie’s sake.
Eddie doesn’t want it. He wants to tear the wall down with his bare hands, climb over the rubble, and fall into Buck’s arms. He wants to kneel at Buck’s feet and tell him everything he’s feeling, rip his heart out of his chest and give it to Buck for safe keeping.
With every memory that returns, Eddie is more and more certain that he is madly in love with Buck, and has been long before they got together. Before he even accepted he liked men.
Eddie wants so much – and for the life of him, he can’t think of a single reason he shouldn’t have.
Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and rolls on his side to face Buck, who is blinking in the new light, propping himself up on one elbow.
“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Is it your head? Are you okay?”
Eddie laughs, cutting Buck off. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. Buck, I feel… lucky.”
Buck blinks again. “You feel… lucky? That’s a strange sentiment from someone who just got out of the hospital, Eds. Are you sure you don’t mean dizzy or something?”
“No, smartass, I’m not dizzy. And I don’t mean about the accident. I just mean… in general.”
Buck is trying his best to keep up, face scrunched up in adorable confusion. “Okay… That’s good? Yeah, that’s good! A little unusual for you, but good.”
“Why’s that unusual for me?” Eddie hopes Buck’s not implying that he’s usually some grumpy misanthrope, and the amnesia has warped his personality.
“You don’t really believe in luck, right? You’re always talking about how the universe is, like, random. Not in a depressing way or anything. You just don’t buy into the whole luck thing.”
“Well, maybe I should,” Eddie says softly, shifting closer. “Because looking at my life with you and Chris? I can’t imagine getting both of you just by chance. You’re both too incredible for that.”
Buck looks taken aback. “Eddie,” he starts, but doesn’t seem to know what to say.
“Buck.” Eddie gathers up his courage and touches Buck’s face, rubbing his thumb over Buck’s birthmark as his eyes go wide. “I am so lucky and so grateful to have you as my partner. You are the kindest, funniest, most interesting, and most beautiful man in the world.”
Buck’s jaw literally drops. His face is rapidly going pink.
Eddie chuckles softly, his chest feeling warm and gooey. This is the moment.
He leans in close, so their noses almost brush.
“Can I kiss you now?”
Buck jerks back, getting tangled in the blankets and falling off the bed with a thump.
This was not the reaction Eddie had hoped for.
Buck scrambles back up, but instead of coming back to Eddie he presses his back to the wall, putting as much space between them as possible. His eyes are huge, shocked.
“We don’t, uh, we don’t do that, Eddie.” Buck’s voice has gone up an octave. “We don't kiss.”
Eddie is positively baffled. “We don’t kiss? Like, ever?”
“No!” Buck practically shrieks.
Eddie has no idea what to make of this. They’re partners, but they don’t kiss? Do they have any sort of physical relationship at all?
He tries to be rational. Not all couples have traditional physical relationships. While he knows that he wants to touch Buck, he also knows that he’d take whatever kind of relationship Buck offered him. He’d rather just cuddle with Buck than do anything with anyone else.
“Okay,” Eddie says, striving for calm. “Are you - you’ve gotta help me here, Buck, I still don’t remember everything – are you ace? Like, asexual?” He’s pretty sure most asexual people are fine with kissing – it’s not traditionally seen as sexual, after all – but he knows that sexuality is a spectrum. Maybe Buck is on an extreme end of that spectrum?
But Buck is already shaking his head. He looks as baffled as Eddie feels. “No, I’m not asexual, why would you think that?”
“Because you don’t want to be physically intimate with me?”
Buck lets out a string of confused syllables that Eddie doesn’t even try to translate into words.
“Okay, bud. You don’t want to kiss me, but it’s not because of your sexuality, I get it. So why not?”
“Because it’s not something that we do,” Buck stresses. “After all, you’re straight.”
Eddie blinks once. Then twice.
Then he bursts out laughing.
Buck scoffs angrily. “What? What’s so funny?”
The idea of Eddie being a straight man is laughable, honestly, given the way he’s been looking at and thinking about Buck’s pretty blue eyes and his biceps in his short sleeve shirt and his thick thighs in those sinfully tight jeans… and Eddie has to shake himself to get his mind back on track.
Right. Eddie is not straight.
“Look,” he says, sobering. “I don’t know exactly how I identify, and I don’t know who knows what about my personal life, but there’s no way I’m straight. Besides, why would we be in a relationship if I’m straight? Dating a man is pretty gay, Buck.”
It’s Buck’s turn to blink once. Then twice.
But he doesn’t laugh. He just says, in this soft, absolutely lost voice, “we’re not in a relationship, Eddie.”
This… well. Eddie doesn’t remember a good bit of his life, but he feels he could reasonably bet this is one of the worst moments of it. He feels his heart drop into his stomach, where it is promptly dissolved by stomach acid.
“But…” Eddie is at a loss. “You said we were partners. You said in the hospital, we met eight years ago and you’re my partner.”
“Work partners. We’re, like, partners at work.”
This is… no. This is a no from Eddie. He feels like stuffing his fingers in his ears and singing lalala until Buck starts making sense. He feels like punching a wall.
Through all this, he still feels like kissing Buck. He’s pretty sure that’s his constant state of being.
Anger begins to bubble in his chest. He climbs out of bed to stand in front of Buck, shoving a finger at his chest. “So you’re telling me we work together, live together, raise our son together, and share a bed – all platonically?”
Buck doesn’t seem to have an answer to this. He looks so lost Eddie wants to comfort him, which is stupid because apparently Buck isn’t his boyfriend. Just his work partner.
“All the touching today,” Eddie continues, waving his arms around madly. “The hand holding, the cuddling. The being there when I woke up, and driving me home from the hospital. Making me dinner, making me laugh. That’s just normal work partner stuff?”
Buck says something so softly Eddie can’t hear it.
“What?” He asks, perhaps a touch too harsh, because Buck practically yells his next words, sounding broken.
“We’re best friends, Eddie!” Buck is breathing hard. “We’re best friends,” he repeats, like he’s trying to convince himself.
Eddie lets himself fall back on the bed, eyes on the ceiling and hands folded over his chest. “Of course,” he bemoans. “Of course I’m not that lucky. I should have known.”
A thought enters his head, and he sits upright. “Wait. Are you straight?”
Buck shakes his head slowly. “No, I’m bi. I came out to you last year.”
Eddie nods, eyes fixed on a point just over Buck’s shoulder.. “Okay. So it’s just me you’re not into, then?”
Buck goes very still. When Eddie finally lets his eyes drift to his face, Buck has gone bright red.
“You’re not into me… right?”
“We’re best friends, Eddie.” His voice is weird and high-pitched. “And you’re straight. I can’t be into my straight best friend, that’s like, a stereotype for bi guys. I don’t want to be a stereotype, Eddie. I’ve been one too often, and I want to do the bi community proud, and –”
Eddie cuts him off. “But I’m not straight. Remember?”
“You had a wife.”
“You were just talking about making the bisexual community proud, and now you’re saying someone can’t be into both men and women?”
“But you’re a renter.”
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about. Is that a euphemism or something?”
Buck may be hyperventilating, the paramedic in Eddie notices. He sits down on the edge of the bed, still keeping plenty of space between them. “So you’re saying you’re bisexual?”
Eddie pauses, giving this serious thought. The label doesn’t feel right, strangely enough.
“No,” he says finally. “I don’t think I am.”
Buck nods, like this makes sense. “Right, because you’re straight –”
“I’m pretty sure I’m gay, Buck.”
Buck throws his hands in the air like he’s giving up. “Then my point about your wife still stands!”
“I loved Shannon,” Eddie says earnestly. “I remember that. But she was my best friend before we had Christopher, and I think – I don’t think I loved her the way you’re supposed to love a wife.”
Eddie is remembering a lot of things now. They’re slipping into his brain quietly, like they never left.
He remembers going out with women, feeling like he was performing. He remembers having sex, focusing only on his partner’s pleasure and not really getting much out of it himself. He remembers noticing Buck the first day they met and forcing all his thoughts about the man’s puppy dog eyes and perfect ass into a box, never to be opened.
But it’s open now. Eddie supposes that when you lose your memory, you also lose all the things you were forcing yourself to be. You forget to forget everything you thought wasn’t right about yourself, and you’re just… you.
And when a giant, beautiful man tells you he’s your partner, you believe him.
And when he treats you better than you’re confident 90% of people treat their actual romantic partner, you keep believing him.
“I love you, Buck,” Eddie says. “I think I have for a long time. I’m sorry if I was too scared to say it before, but… I’m saying it now.”
Buck looks like he’s about to cry. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”
“But I do.”
A tear escapes Buck’s scrunched up eyes, and Eddie absently reaches up to brush it away with his thumb. Buck leans into the touch, letting out a barely audible whimper.
Eddie’s heart, previously dissolved in acid, makes a miraculous reappearance in his chest, beating harder and faster to make up for the time it was gone.
“Buck. Cariño. Do you love me, too?”
Buck lets out a sob. “I can’t. I’m not allowed to.”
“But you are. You’re encouraged to, actually.”
Buck is searching his face wildly. Eddie decides it’s worth another try. He leans in.
“Can I kiss you, Buck?”
These words apparently turn Buck into a sleeper agent. His mission? Get away from Eddie as fast as possible.
He doesn’t fall off the bed this time, but it’s a close thing. Buck springs to his feet, dislodging Eddie’s lovingly placed hand.
“No,” he declares. “I can’t take advantage of you like that.”
“Buck,” Eddie tries, “I’m literally the one asking you. How is that taking advantage of me? We’re both queer, we both love each other, we’re sleeping in the same bed – it’s weird that we’re not kissing right now!”
But Buck is not having it. “You’re an amnesiac, Eddie! You’re vulnerable, and confused, and it’s my fault! Kissing you would be unethical.”
“Even though you want to?” Eddie confirms.
Buck hesitates, then nods slowly. “Yes. Yes, of course I want to. But I can’t. Not until you remember everything.”
Buck takes a breath, wringing his hands. “Okay. Okay, here’s the plan. I can’t leave because I need to make sure you’re safe. The doctor said you’re okay to sleep but someone needs to monitor you to make sure things don’t get worse. So I’ll stay here, but I’m sleeping on the couch, and –”
“But -”
“- and we’re not talking about this again until you get your memories back. Then you can decide if you actually want… this.” He gestures weakly to himself, like he’s anything less than the best man on Earth. Like he’s not worth everything.
But what can Eddie do? Buck is a stubborn man, especially when it comes to doing the right thing. And right now he’s determined that the right thing is to wait for his amnesiac best friend to regain his memory before upgrading him to boyfriend.
There’s some logic there, Eddie supposes. He is anxious for the rest of his Buck memories to return so he can get a full picture of their actual relationship.
But he can’t imagine there’s anything he could remember that would make him love Buck less.
Eddie sighs. “Okay.”
Buck’s eyebrows shoot up. “Okay?”
“Yeah, bud. Okay.” He pauses for a moment. “I remember meeting you, you know. I liked you right away.”
“Liar. I was so annoying the first time we met.”
“Maybe, but it was adorable. And you were like the hottest guy I’d ever seen, so…”
Buck goes red again. “You can’t say that. You can’t flirt with me till all your memories are back, not just the old ones. It’s not fair.”
“Okay, okay. My point is that I liked you, but I was too scared to admit it, least of all to myself. I waited eight years to tell you. I can wait a little bit longer to have you.”
Tears are streaming down Buck’s face again, but he bravely ignores them. “Okay,” he chokes out. “That’s… goodnight. Goodnight, Eddie. Let me know if you need anything.”
Then he practically runs out of the room, slamming Eddie’s door behind him.
Eddie lies awake for a good long while. He worries some, of course. What if some of his memories never come back? Will Buck deny him forever? What if his memories do come back and Buck still won’t be with him? He’s sure Buck could come up with some other excuse to keep them apart.
But the worries are quiet for once, overshadowed by the look on Buck’s face when Eddie told him he loved him. It had been raw, vulnerable.
Buck loves him back. Eddie knows it now. It’s surely as unforgettable as his own name.
If he gets amnesia a second time he knows he would wake up with two certainties left.
My name is Eddie Diaz, and Buck loves me.
With those thoughts in his head, Eddie drifts to sleep.
Buck is true to his word – over the next few days, he steadfastly refuses to talk about the state of their relationship or anything related to it.
That’s not to say they don’t talk. No, they talk plenty. Eddie was scared Buck would ignore him completely, icing him out, but that doesn’t seem to be something either of them are capable of.
Things are awkward the morning after Eddie’s confession, naturally. They eat Buck’s homemade waffles (because of course Buck made waffles, he’s the perfect man) in relative quiet, with Eddie commenting once or twice on how good they are, and Buck running through how to make them. He even offers up a few fun facts (“Did you know the word “waffle” comes from the Dutch word “wafel”, meaning honeycomb?”).
Eddie remarks that he remembers Buck being more of a pancake guy, and Buck confesses that he’d feel bad making pancakes when Chris isn’t there, which is sweet.
It’s a nice breakfast, but the weight of everything they’re not saying hangs heavy over their heads, making Eddie hesitant and Buck overly bright.
Buck picks Chris up from his sleepover soon after, since Eddie still isn’t supposed to drive. Christopher’s presence helps a lot. It’s a Saturday, so Chris is off from school, and Eddie is touched but unsurprised that Buck has taken a few days off from work to make sure Eddie is doing alright.
Chris suggests going to the zoo for old time’s sake, and as a way to resurface some of Eddie’s memories. It works surprisingly well. As the three of them stroll around, taking pictures of the elephants and spending way too long trying to identify all the birds in the bird exhibit, Eddie remembers doing all this with a younger Chris and Buck.
He remembers lots of afternoons well spent, just the three of them exploring everything LA has to offer and enjoying being together. He remembers a couple of instances where people mistook them for a family and him going along with it, feeling guilty later for lying and wishing it were true.
He thinks now that he had a very narrow view of what family could be.
Chris is a great buffer. Him and Buck chatter away all day, trading fun facts, jokes, and stories, Eddie listening contentedly and sometimes throwing in a comment or a dry quip.
Saturday night is movie night, and it's Buck’s turn to pick. He tries to offer his turn to someone else, but they both remind him of the sea turtle documentary he had been so eager to watch the day before, and he relents. Eddie actually really enjoys the movie, although Buck and Chris’s lively commentary is his favorite part by far.
Sunday is much the same. They go out for brunch, and then Buck and Chris spend the afternoon showing Eddie photos on their phones, filling him in on their collective histories. Eddie’s memories are flowing back into his mind slowly but steadily, like a small but persistent stream.
With Eddie’s permission, Buck invites the whole 118 team over that night for dinner. He and Chris work together on a delicious-smelling chickpea curry, while Eddie is relegated to salad duty. When he protests, Buck and Chris don’t hesitate to bring up all Eddie’s past cooking fails.
He decides salad duty is just fine.
Hen and Karen arrive first with Denny, a bottle of wine, and a tight hug for Eddie. They are kind enough to re-introduce themselves, but Eddie is pleased to tell them he remembers them. Thanks to Buck’s storytelling, a lot of his memories of the 118 team have returned, excluding the most recent ones.
“So you don’t remember anything from, say, two weeks ago?” Hen asks casually.
It’s an odd question, but Eddie answers honestly that no, he does not, and Hen just nods with an aggressively neutral expression.
Athena and Bobby are next, bearing gifts of two homemade pies that make Buck gasp with delight.
“Eddie,” he says seriously. “Bobby makes the best pies in the universe. It’s the only reason we invite him,” he adds in a stage whisper, causing Bobby to playfully smack his arm.
“Hey, me and my pies can leave right now,” he threatens.
“Noooo,” Buck whines. “I want you to stay.” He delivers this last part straight to the pies, earning himself another smack.
The rest of the group arrive at about the same time – that is, 10 minutes late. Ravi strolls in with a six-pack of beer, closely followed by the entire Buckley-Han clan.
Jee-Yun races to hug Eddie’s legs, and as he strokes her hair he marvels at how big she’s gotten since his memories of her have ended.
“Hi Uncle Eddie!”
Eddie gives Buck a pointed look, like, your niece calls me Uncle Eddie, and I was supposed to realize we’re not dating?
Buck’s only response is to blush and hurry back into the kitchen. Eddie notices Hen clock this interaction immediately, and she gives him a questioning look, which he in turn ignores in favor of hugging Maddie and meeting baby Nash. He doesn’t remember the baby at all, and in fact only knows of his existence from Buck’s extensive stories.
Holding the swaddled baby who is, by all reasonable accounts, basically his nephew is enough to melt away his worries and stress. That’s the magic of babies. One minute, they’re giving you the worst headache you’ve ever had, and the next, they’re assuaging all your fears.
Holding Nash close to his chest, Eddie looks around the room. Jee has run off to play with Chris and Denny. Karen and Hen have broken out the wine and are chatting with Bobby and Athena around the table. Maddie has gone off to the kitchen to properly greet Buck (she didn’t get a chance before he ran away), and from what Eddie can hear Chim is teasing Ravi about something and the younger man is pretending to be annoyed.
This. This is his family.
He looks down at baby Nash, who has started making the most adorable little snuffling noises in his sleep, and Eddie wonders – maybe for the first time, he isn’t sure – about having another baby. A little sibling for Christopher, another child to love and care for.
He’s getting ahead of himself, but he bets Buck would be on board with adopting a baby. He suddenly remembers seeing Buck holding Nash for the first time, and how his heart felt like it would simply explode.
Wow. That’s got to be the most recent memory he’s recovered. Nash is so young, it couldn’t have happened more than a few months ago.
Hope is blooming in his chest as he turns to Chim and Ravi. “What are we making fun of the probie for?” he asks.
Ravi scoffs. “Okay, I know you have amnesia so I’ll forgive you this time, but I am not a probationary firefighter anymore.”
“No, I remembered that,” Eddie says with a smile. “Just felt right.”
Ravi lets out a noise that might be a growl, and Chim cheerfully fills Eddie in on all the latest gossip he missed or forgot. Before long, dinner is ready, and they all gather around the table.
“A toast!” Hen pronounces, and everyone quiets down, picking up their glasses. “To our big, beautiful, frankly insane family. May the near death experiences get a little farther away.”
Eddie notices Buck discreetly knock on the wooden table.
“To Eddie,” Bobby adds on with a fond smile, “and his recovery. We’re all here for you.”
“To Eddie’s brain!” Chim cheers. “Good job getting an injury fit for a telenovela.”
Eddie laughs. “You know, I don’t think I actually believed temporary amnesia was a real thing before this. I thought it was just a convenient plot device.”
“Still could be,” Karen suggests. “Not trying to make you find a silver lining to your brain injury or anything, but surely forgetting then remembering everything puts things into a new perspective?”
Everyone looks at Eddie except for Buck, who is looking at his plate. Eddie notices because he can’t seem to take his eyes off Buck.
“Yeah,” he says. “It sure has.”
After dinner, as people are breaking into groups to talk, Eddie feels a hand grip his forearm and quickly pull him into the backyard.
“Wha - Hen? What are you doing?”
She closes the door behind them and turns to face him, arms crossed. “We need to talk.”
He gestures weakly inside. “We’ve been talking all night.”
“Alone, Edmundo.”
He sighs. “Fine, Henrietta, what do we need to talk about?”
Her face scrunches up. “As happy as I am that you remembered it, please do not full name me ever again.”
“You started it!”
“Okay, okay. Speaking of names, we need to have a conversation about the tension between you and another nicknamed young man in attendance tonight.”
“Chim?” he suggests hopefully.
Hen levels him with a look and he sighs. “Honestly, I thought we were acting pretty normal.”
“You were,” she reassures him, patting his arm. “But I know you two very well, so pretty normal isn’t going to get past me, and I’m willing to bet Maddie noticed as well. I figured she’d talk to Buck, so it’s up to me to talk to you.”
“Okay,” he admits, drawing Hen a little further from the house to make sure no one can hear. “Things are a little weird right now because of the amnesia, but I’m working on it. There’s some things I’ve realized recently, but I think I should wait for the rest of my memories to come back before telling everyone.”
She nods. “That makes a lot of sense. But, honey, I’ve got to come clean. You may have already told me a little bit about your, uh, realizations.”
Eddie’s eyes go wide. “I did? When? What did I say?”
“It was about two weeks ago. You came over for wine night, got a little tipsy, and at the end you confessed to me that you’d been questioning your sexuality. That you weren’t sure you were straight.”
“That’s all I said? That I might not be straight?
Hen cocks an eyebrow. “Is there more you should have said?”
Eddie laughs, ducking his head. “Yeah. Yeah, turns out when you forget everything you’re supposed to be afraid of in your life, things tend to, uh, clarify a little.”
Hen nods slowly. “Okay. Okay, that’s good, Eddie. Now, you don’t have to tell me anything –”
“I’m gay.”
“Oh?” She looks taken aback.
“Yeah. Like, fully gay.”
Hen’s face breaks into a smile, and she gathers Eddie up in a hug. “That’s amazing, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you. Thank you for trusting me with this.” She pulls back, looking him up and down. “I’ve gotta say, I always hoped you’d turn out to be a part of the ol’ alphabet mafia.”
“Yeah? You seem surprised, though.”
“Well, quite frankly I was expecting you to be a late-in-life bisexual like Buckaroo.”
Eddie isn’t sure what his face does at the mention of Buck, but it must be drastic, because Hen’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Oh?”
“What?”
“Just… oh.”
“You can’t just oh me and leave it at that!”
“... oh, wow?”
“Hen!”
“Sorry, sorry!” She giggles. “So you and Buck…”
Eddie cuts her off, shaking his head. “Nothing to tell. Not… not yet, at least.”
“But soon, maybe?”
Eddie glances inside. Buck is sitting with the kids, sleeves rolled up so they can color over his tattoos in marker. He can’t for the life of him stop the wistful sigh that leaves his lips.
“With any luck? Very soon.”
When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he doesn’t immediately notice anything is different. He drifts into consciousness slowly, awareness sinking into his body and his dream slipping away before he can grasp it. It was a good dream, he thinks. But that’s all he can remember of it.
He begins his new morning ritual of prodding around in his head for his missing memories the way a child might prod the cavity of a lost tooth with their tongue, feeling the absence with a vague sense of novelty.
Except today, there is no cavity. No gaping emptiness where his past should be.
He thinks back, and he can recall entering the townhouse that caught fire a few days ago, climbing to the top floor with Buck, seeing the scared little boy… the exact moment where the beam hit him is blurry, but it’s blurry in a way that makes sense, as any traumatic, out-of-the-blue moment would be.
Eddie remembers everything.
Eddie is no longer an amnesiac.
He sits bolt upright. His first thought is one of overwhelming relief. He’d been an optimist these past few days, comforted by his doctor’s reassurances and a bit of late night internet browsing, but deep down he’d still been terrified that his temporary amnesia would turn out to be permanent. That he would never regain what he’d lost, and that Buck would never agree to love him.
Buck…
Things don’t fall into place insomuch as they already are in place, and Eddie finally can see it. Years of not even considering his sexuality, assuming himself to be straight and never challenging it. The appearance of Buck in his life turned that unconscious repression into a very deliberate choice.
He remembers justifying his thoughts and feelings to himself day after day.
It’s not gay to notice Buck has pretty eyes, they’re just a nice shade of blue. Colors aren’t gay.
Okay, it’s not gay to check out Buck’s ass either. He’s just jealous of how nice it looks. It reminds him to workout more.
Of course he wants to hang out with Buck more than his own girlfriend. Buck is the best guy ever, it’s just a fact.
Buck coming out as bisexual made this a lot harder for some reason. Eddie thinks it’s the fact that it happened so late in life for him.
One of his own favorite mantras had been that he couldn’t be gay, he was in his thirties. No one waited to figure out their sexuality until their thirties.
But Buck did. And then Buck had a boyfriend, a little pink, purple, and blue pin on his backpack, and a new sense of pride in himself that radiated off of him like sunshine.
And Eddie basked in the pride, stared at the pin, and hated the boyfriend in a way that could not possibly be platonic. He remembers being secretly pleased when they broke up.
It was just a few weeks ago that it came to a head – and not due to any dramatics, or danger. He was just lying in bed, and suddenly the repression stopped working. Eddie was gay, and he couldn’t deny it anymore.
He told Christopher, who didn’t even seem surprised (“Dad, you’re so bad with women, this honestly is comforting”), and he kind of told Hen.
He was going to tell Buck. Maybe. As soon as he could figure out how to ensure the conversation about his sexuality did not veer into what had inspired this revelation.
Because Eddie wasn’t scared of being gay, not really. He knew the people he loved would support and accept him. No, he was scared of the love he had for Buck. He was scared of ruining their friendship, of taking away Chris’s second father.
Eddie remembers promising himself to never, ever tell Buck how he feels.
He smiles to himself. Well. He screwed that up, didn’t he?
Eddie walks into the living room, bare feet padding along the hardwood floor. Buck is awake but not up yet, snuggled on the couch and scrolling on his phone, arm tucked under his head in a way that scrunches his face and makes Eddie’s heart squeeze.
Buck looks up as Eddie approaches and kneels next to the couch. He puts his phone down, giving Eddie a sleepy smile.
“Morning, Eds. What’s up?”
“I remember.”
Immediately, Buck’s eyes go wide. “Wait, what? W-what do you remember?”
“Everything.”
Eddie is not expecting Buck’s face to fall, but fall it does. Buck sits up, blanket pooling in his lap.
“Oh.” He pauses for a moment. “I guess I should go, then?”
Eddie’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about? You live here, Buck. Why would you leave?”
“Well, you remember.” Buck gestures helplessly between them. “I assume you need some space from me. I’m not saying I won’t come back, I know you’re not mad at me or anything – unless you are, which is fine, I get it, but I know it’ll be weird for a while, now that you know how I feel, and you remember everything from my past and stuff, so I figured –”
“Buck!” Eddie practically yells. “You said we’d talk about this again when my memory came back, not that you’d monologue about how I need space and then try to leave.”
Buck shrinks a little. “Sorry. Sorry, we can – we can talk.”
“Buck,” Eddie says again, softer, and reaches up to cup his face. Buck’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t lean away. “I remember everything. The good and the bad. The worst things both of us have done, the best, and everything in between.”
Buck nods. “I know. That’s why I understand that you… you probably aren’t interested anymore. You remember how you felt before.”
Eddie sighs, running his thumb over Buck’s birthmark. He feels Buck shiver at the gentle touch. “How I felt was scared. Terrified, actually. I was so scared of the love I have for you –” here, Buck sucks in a breath “ – that I decided to never, ever tell you. I was convinced you didn’t feel the same way, and that even if you did, I’d manage to screw it up like I had every relationship in the past. But then I lost my memory. And I saw the life we have together, free of any judgment or justification or fear, and I realized that we live our lives like we’ve been together for years, Buck. In almost every way, we are already a couple. It seemed so obvious. After I realized that, making it official didn’t seem so scary.”
Eddie grins at Buck, who is frozen in place, eyes wide and glossy. “It didn’t hurt that when I told you how I felt, I assumed it wasn’t the first time. I really thought I would’ve told you I love you a hundred times at that point. How could I not have? You were there, by my side, looking so beautiful and taking such good care of me and Chris. So that took a lot of the worry out of it.”
Buck blinks, and tears finally spill down his cheeks. He raises a hand to swipe at them but Eddie beats him to it, rubbing both thumbs under Buck’s eyes.
“I love you, Buck,” he whispers. “Remembering more about you didn’t take that away, it only made it stronger.”
Suddenly, Buck’s arms fly around his shoulders, and Buck is pressing his face into Eddie’s neck, wet and hot against his skin.
“I love you too.” The words are spoken into Eddie’s collarbone. He wants to get them tattooed there.
“I love you,” Buck says again, shifting backwards so he can meet Eddie’s gaze. “I’ve probably loved you for years, but I never let myself think about it. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. I still can’t. Eddie, you have to promise me –”
“Anything,” Eddie interrupts.
Buck pinches his shoulder where his arms are still draped over them. “You can’t just promise me anything, Eds, what if it were something bad?”
“You wouldn’t ask me to do anything bad.”
Buck shakes his head in disbelief. “Have you met me?”
“Yes.” Slowly, carefully, Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to Buck’s jaw. “I’ve met you twice, really, and I fell in love both times.”
Buck gapes. “You can’t – you can’t just say things like that. What – since when are you such a romantic? Wait, don’t answer that, you’ll have a really good line and then I’ll have to kiss you and I haven’t made you promise yet.”
Eddie is tempted to just get on with the kissing part, but instead he stays dutifully quiet and nods at Buck to continue.
He takes a deep breath. “Eddie. I need you to promise that if we don’t work out – no, don’t make that face, most couples don’t work out, it’s possible – if we don’t work out together, we need to stay together, okay? Promise me we’ll still be best friends, and that I’ll still have you and Christopher in my life. I can’t lose either of you, I just can’t.”
Eddie rubs his hands along Buck’s arms, soothing. “Buck, baby, that’s the easiest promise in the world to make. I could never stay away from you. And I would never get between you and Christopher. You’re his dad, too.”
Releasing a shaky breath, Buck buries his face back into Eddie’s neck. “Okay,” he whispers.
They stay like that for a while. Eddie’s not sure how long. Hours could go by and he’d never get bored of Buck’s weight pressed against him, his lips against his skin, his bulk in his arms.
Eventually, though, Buck pulls back, scrubbing at his eyes. “Okay,” he says again, laughing a little. “What now? Like, we were already basically together before, you were right. What changes?”
Eddie eyes Buck’s lips. “I can think of one big difference.”
Buck sucks in a breath as his eyes drop to Eddie’s mouth as well. “Oh yeah. That’s – that’ll be a change.”
Eddie smiles, edging closer. “Mhm.”
But Buck still looks nervous. “What if – nevermind, sorry.”
“What is it, baby?”
This is the second time Eddie has called Buck baby, and he relishes the feel of the word on his tongue. He’s also pretty sure this is the first time Buck clocks his use of the word, because a shiver runs through him, and he smiles self-consciously.
“I’m just… worried, I guess.”
“About what?”
“Well, this might sound stupid.”
“I’m used to it,” Eddie deadpans, and Buck lightly smacks his arm.
“Asshole,” he huffs. “It’s just – I didn’t realize I was bi until Tommy kissed me –”
“Can we please institute a no talking about Tommy policy in this house?”
“He was literally your friend first!”
“And now he’s dead to me, what’s your point?”
“My point is,” Buck emphasizes, “that kissing… that guy made me realize things. About myself, and what I thought I knew. You’ve, well, you’ve never kissed a guy, right?”
Eddie nods slowly. “Correct. The only guy I want to kiss is stalling, so…”
“What if you kiss me and realize you were wrong and you don’t like men or you don’t like me or something?” Buck finally gets to the point in a rushed barrage of words. Eddie just blinks at him.
“Buck –” he starts.
“I know it’s dumb! It just popped into my head and now I can’t think of anything else and it’s like my brain is stuck –”
Buck never finishes his thought, because Eddie has realized Buck was never going to be the one to kiss him first.
It’s up to him to take initiative.
Eddie surges forward, grabbing Buck’s face between two hands and gently pressing their lips together.
The kiss is soft, slow. Buck’s mouth is mostly still with surprise, but he’s so warm. It’s perfect.
Eddie pulls back after only a moment, and Buck chases his mouth a little, following his movement before shaking his head slightly and pulling back as well.
Buck looks a little dazed, face still sandwiches between Eddie’s palms, cheeks slightly squished. He looks so beautiful Eddie can’t help but smile.
He pretends to think for a moment. “Hmm. Yeah, still gay. Still in love with you. We good?”
Buck blinks at him. Then he nods. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good.”
“Your brain isn’t stuck anymore?”
Buck laughs softly. “I think you rebooted it.”
“Good.” Eddie shifts one of his hands to the back of Buck’s head, finger sifting through his curls. Buck’s hands settle on Eddie’s waist, where they burn like a brand. Eddie hopes he never lets go. “There’s more where that came from.”
Eddie thinks, in the split second between Buck leaning in and their lips reconnecting, that maybe he was right the first time. This isn’t luck. It wasn’t luck that brought them together. They did that. They worked for this, fought for this, built this love from the ground up. Meeting each other? That was lucky. Loving each other? That was a choice they made – and would continue to make – every day of their lives.
Then they’re kissing again, and everything leaves Eddie’s brain except for the weight of Buck against him and the warm feeling in his chest of finally coming home.