Archive of Our Own

They were just supposed to be baking.

Honestly, not even baking. No part of this recipe they're making involves baking, just some melting and mixing and a lot of fridge time.

Buck figured it’d be a good thing for them to make together, what with trying to appease a teenager and also include a four-year-old in some part of the process.

With this particular four-year-old, avoiding the oven if possible is preferred.

So Buck found a recipe for a dessert that he, Theo, Eddie, and Chris could all make together.

Somehow, though, things have gone awry.

Things had been going well, all things considered.

Chris had done an excellent job crushing up the nuts and graham crackers and coconut in the food processor. Buck had meticulously melted together the butter and sugar and cocoa powder, ultimately deciding to do it correctly over the stove so long as Eddie and Chris kept Theo occupied.

Really, the moment of disaster occurs when Eddie volunteers to be the one to knead the crust.

He pours Buck’s mixture over Chris’s mixture and then just…dives in. Really puts his whole arm into it, which doesn’t seem necessary.

It looks…well. 

Gross.

Buck doesn’t say anything, though. He very intentionally does not mention what the chunky nut mixture combined with the dark brown butter mixture looks like in the bowl. And also now all over Eddie’s hand.

He’s a mature adult and will not comment on what appears to be currently coating Eddie’s hand.

Unfortunately, though, a certain teenager doesn’t have the same restraint.

Chris watches his dad working away, really making sure he’s got the consistency of the chunky brown gloop just right, and laughs. 

“Dad, your hand looks like it’s covered in sh—poop.” 

Buck is definitely glad he catches himself just in time, remembering he’s in the presence of a child who has taken on the definitely not annoying trait of copying random words Chris says.

“See?” Buck exclaims, pointing to Eddie but looking at Theo. “Now who’s Mr. Poop?”

Theo giggles, a beautiful sound that makes Buck’s heart squeeze.

“You’re still Mistah Poop,” Theo declares.

“But…” Buck looks around the kitchen, hoping someone will back him up. The Diaz boys are no help. He should probably kick them out for apparently siding with the toddler and not the man they’ve known for almost nine years. “He’s the one with the poop hand!”

Theo giggles again, of course—Buck just said poop. The phrase “poop hand” is probably being filed away for Theo to repeat again at the most inconvenient of times, likely when Diedra comes for a surprise visit or when Theo finally meets his parents—if that ever happens, of course.

“Yeah, he’s Mrs. Poop!”

A silence falls over the kitchen. Eddie looks at Buck, Buck looks at Eddie. Chris looks between Buck and Eddie with an amused smile on his face.

“Buddy…” Eddie looks at Theo, a small, confused smile crossing his face. “I’m a guy, though, so I’d still be Mr. Poop.”

Buck has been in the middle of many bizarre conversations before, but this might just take the cake. They’re discussing the title that should be associated with someone a four-year-old has deemed should be named after literal shit. He’s not sure how things could possibly get more unhinged than this.

“I know you’re a boy,” Theo grins. “But he’s Mistah Poop.” He points his tiny finger toward Buck, who sighs internally. He wonders how much longer this Mr. Poop thing is going to last. “So that makes you,” Theo stares pointedly at Eddie, “Mrs. Poop.”

Okay, so. Things appear to be getting slightly more unhinged.

“I—why?”

Buck buries his face in his hands. Eddie should know better than to ask Theo why. Never has anything beneficial been said after asking Theo why.

Why is a question that should never be asked of any toddler, but especially this one.

Theo looks up at Eddie with his wide, innocent eyes. Buck holds his breath in anticipation of whatever eccentric, nonsensical answer is about to come out of his mouth.

“When two people are married, they’re Mr. and Mrs.,” Theo says simply, as if that’s just a fact of life. “Since he’s Mr. Poop, that makes you Mrs. Poop.”

It’s like there’s static in the air.

And a ringing? Maybe?

Buck can hear a loud ringing sound. Can anyone else hear the ringing?

Eddie looks at Buck with his stupid, wide, brown doe eyes, eyebrows drawn in tight and lips slightly parted, as if he’s silently begging for help.

Buck looks away. He is not getting involved. This is all Eddie’s fault. He asked Theo why. He needs to learn that his actions have consequences.

Good luck, Edmundo, you’re on your own.

“Theo…” Eddie starts slowly, carefully, gently, “...we’re not married.”

Chris snorts, trying—and failing—to cover it up with a cough. Whatever that means.

Theo, the adorable little bean that he is, tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“You’re not?”

Eddie flicks his eyes over to Buck briefly before looking back at Theo.

“No, we’re not.”

The tiniest little frown crosses Theo’s face for a fraction of a second before he seemingly realizes something, and a devilish grin replaces it.

“Does that mean I can marry you?”

The ringing is back.

What the fuck is going on?

“Uh—” Eddie looks at Buck, panicked, clearly at a loss for how to respond to such a question.

Luckily, Buck’s secret favorite Diaz boy steps in.

“Theo, I don’t think you really want to marry my dad.”

Eddie doesn’t even bother looking offended.

Theo, on the other hand, does. His face twists into a grimace, and he makes a fake retching sound.

“I don’t want to marry him!” he exclaims. He looks at Chris but gestures a tiny hand in the direction of Buck and Eddie, standing frozen across the kitchen from them, still as statues. “I want them to be Mistah and Mrs. Poop.”

“Ohh!” Chris seems to understand what he’s saying. At least that makes one of them. “So you just want to be the one officiating their wedding, saying the words to them so it’s official? So they become Mr. and Mrs. Poop?”

Theo nods.

“Interesting,” Chris hums with a smirk. “That could be fun.”

Fun? What does Chris mean by fun?

Buck doesn’t think he really wants to find out.

“B—but not right now,” he finally steps in before this conversation can become even more bizarre, “because right now, we’re baking.” He flashes a dazzling, desperate smile, gesturing to the mess on the counter in front of him and nudging the empty pan closer to Eddie, hoping he’ll take the hint and resume the task at hand.

“Didn’t you say the crust needed to set in the fridge for thirty minutes?”

Buck glares at Chris. He is no longer his secret favorite Diaz boy. In fact, no one in this kitchen can even qualify as his favorite Diaz boy anymore. He’ll have to choose a new one.

…it’s certainly not Ramon, though.

Whatever. Surely Eddie has a cousin or nephew or something that can hold the space once occupied by Christopher Diaz, who is currently on Buck’s shit list.

“You did say that.”

Buck whips his head around to stare at Eddie, mouth agape.

He sounds…amused. Like he’s, for whatever reason, now actually entertaining the idea of letting a four-year-old marry them.

Well, not that it’s legally binding.

But still.

It’ll be real to Theo.

“Eddie…” Buck isn’t even really sure what he’s going to say; he just wants to know what is going on.

Instead of speaking to Buck, or telling Theo and Chris that they aren’t getting married because that’s categorically ridiculous, or literally just saying anything to stop whatever’s going on right now…Eddie starts plopping the gloopy mixture that started this whole mess into the pan, focusing on pressing it down like it’s the most important thing in the entire world.

“Can we have the wedding now?”

This is Eddie’s mess. It’s Eddie’s mess, and now Theo is asking an impossible question, and Eddie is just laser-focused on this stupid dessert, leaving Buck to deal with it all.

Which is totally not cool.

There’s no way Buck could marry someone who does that to him.

Well, there are many other reasons why this is a bad idea and they absolutely cannot get married no matter how insanely adorable Theo looks right now, but still.

Buck can’t have a husband who leaves him high and dry in a crisis like this.

…okay, that’s not fair. Eddie’s helped Buck out during numerous crises over the years.

And yet, now, during possibly the most important one, Eddie just keeps pressing his fingers into the crust that is definitely as smushed down and even as it’s going to get.

“Theo, I—”

“I think we should.”

Buck has never, ever wished Chris had stayed in Texas. It was awful when he was gone, and he’s so happy he’s back in LA, where he belongs.

And yet…

“Chris—”

“I mean, I think that’d be more fun than sitting around staring at each other,” Chris provides as if that’s a rational explanation for why his dad should let a four-year-old fake marry him and his best friend.

“Let's do it.”

Buck must be hallucinating. That’s the only rational explanation he can think of for why he just heard those words come out of Eddie’s mouth.

He whips his head around and fixes him with the most incredulous look he can muster.

“What?”

Eddie, the bastard, just shrugs. 

“I said, let’s do it.”

He looks so calm, so certain; it’s confusing.

Before Buck can even utter a rebuttal or explain why they should not do this, Theo lets out a cheer and high-fives Chris, as if this is a done deal and is absolutely happening.

Which. 

Apparently, it is.

With a small, crooked smile, Eddie places the pan in the fridge so the crust can set. Chris swipes at his phone a few times before tucking it back in his pocket.

“Alright, timer’s set, we’ve got thirty minutes.”

Buck sighs.

He can’t believe this is his life right now.

This isn’t how Buck ever imagined his wedding.

In all honesty, he’d never given his potential future wedding too much thought. He’s never been the best at thinking ahead with his relationships, always just doing whatever felt right in the moment—or panicking and asking his significant other to move in with him just because he doesn’t know what else to do. Which definitely hasn’t happened more than once.

That being said, Buck doesn’t think he could have ever pictured this: standing in his living room in front of his best friend, about to be “married” by his foster son, with Chris as their “witness”.

To make it official, or whatever his reasoning was.

Buck isn’t sure; his brain stopped functioning at some point around when Eddie said, “Let’s do it,” and a buzzing static filled his ears when he was being ushered out of the kitchen.

And now Chris is saying something, but Buck can only piece together certain words and phrases like “gathered here today” and “matrimony” and then he thinks Chris explains to Theo what matrimony is but it’s all one big blur because he’s currently standing across from Eddie in between his couch and his coffee table—the coffee table that Theo is currently standing on so that he can marry them. Supposedly. And Chris is standing behind the coffee table, casually leaning on his crutches with a smile on his face as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening, as if he’s not about to watch his dad marry his best friend.

Which, sure, it’s not like it’s a legal wedding ceremony.

But still. It’s weird.

Why is it that Buck seems to be the only one freaking out about this?

“Wait—” Chris raises his voice slightly, and it cuts through the noise in Buck’s brain.

For the briefest of moments, Buck thinks that maybe—just maybe—someone else has finally caught on to how ridiculous this all is.

Unfortunately, the universe really likes to play in his face.

“Usually the two people getting married hold hands during the ceremony,” Chris states, very unhelpfully.

Buck blinks. He really doesn’t think that’s correct.

Eddie glances at Chris with a raised eyebrow. “Since when are you the expert on weddings?”

“I’m the expert on many things,” Chris retorts.

“Right. How could I forget?” Eddie deadpans, though Buck catches the slight twinkle in his eye.

Buck looks at Chris, then at Theo, then at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and offers his hands out to Buck, who inhales through his nose slowly, exhales through his nose slowly, and places his hands in Eddie’s. Thankfully, if Eddie notices that his hands are sticky with sweat, he doesn’t say anything about it.

Maybe he’ll make a good husband after all.

Not that this is real.

Whatever.

Buck tries to focus on what Chris and Theo are saying, whatever they’re spewing off as things they think you’d really say at an actual wedding ceremony, but his world sort of just…narrows down to Eddie’s hands.

It’s weird, he can’t remember if he’s ever actually held Eddie’s hands before.

Surely he has, right?

He can distinctly remember the feeling of Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, finger pressed against his collarbone. He knows what Eddie’s hand feels like on his neck, checking for a pulse. Their forearms have crossed each other’s with a celebratory bump more times than he can count, but that’s not their hands. 

They’ve high-fived, does that count?

Regardless, he’s definitely never held Eddie’s hands like this before.

They’re smoother than Buck would’ve thought they’d be. Maybe that’s just because Buck’s hands are a little sweaty, or because Eddie just washed them thoroughly with Buck’s aloe-infused soap to rid his fingers of the mess that started all of this in the first place. If he concentrates hard enough, he can feel some distinct calluses, though. It’s nice, the contrast between the soft base of his hands and the rougher calluses along the pad of his hands. Buck wonders if Eddie’s also thinking about his hands, what they feel like to him.

He’s snapped out of his hand-focused thought spiral by a tap on his shoulder.

“Hello?” a tiny, annoyed voice says.

Theo’s looking at him expectantly. In fact, when Buck turns to look at Eddie and Chris, he realizes he must have missed something; they’re all looking at him as if waiting for something.

Buck feels a little prickle of heat reach the tops of his cheeks.

“Oh, uh—I—I’m sorry, what was that?”

Theo rolls his eyes, and Buck would admonish him if it wasn’t so cute—and probably warranted.

“I said it’s time for you to say your vows.”

Buck furrows his eyebrows. He guesses Chris must have told Theo to say that, or at least explained what vows even are when Buck wasn’t paying attention, because he definitely never taught him what those are.

“I…don’t have any prepared, I’m sorry.”

Buck looks to Eddie, then to Chris, then to Theo. He’s met with wide brown eyes, teenage sass, and then, heartbreakingly, eyes that are on the verge of tears.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t worry, I’ll come up with something!” Buck panics, releasing one of Eddie’s hands so he can place one of his own on Theo’s shoulder reassuringly.

It’s like a flip switches in that tiny child so quickly, Buck’s head spins.

The tears are gone, and Theo’s shrugging Buck’s hand off, pointing to Eddie’s now-empty hand.

“Hold his hand,” Theo demands, not unkindly, like the idea of Buck no longer holding both of Eddie’s hands is more important than Buck not having vows prepared.

In Theo’s defense, Chris did say he’s the expert on weddings, and Theo’s four, so of course, he believes everything Chris says about weddings to be true.

Therefore, they must hold hands, apparently.

And Buck has to think of something to say for his vows, right now, on the spot.

He’s not sure why he has to go first, considering he’s pretty sure they both have to say vows.

Whatever.

Buck takes hold of Eddie’s hand once more.

He can do this. He can say some vows to Eddie, no big deal. Eddie is his best friend; he has plenty of great things to say about him. It’s not like he has to lie; he can just…speak from the heart. Talk about his best friend, Eddie. List all the reasons why he’s his best friend.

Buck looks at Eddie, with his soft brown eyes and gentle smile. Have his eyes always had those little flecks of gold in them?

Not important right now.

Eddie squeezes Buck’s hands reassuringly. Buck’s heart flutters. Whatever that means.

“E—Eddie.” Great start, Buck. Profound, really. Absolutely knocking it out of the park. “You’re my best friend.” A true statement. Not much of a vow, though. Buck closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep, centering breath, and locks his eyes on Eddie’s once again before he just…speaks. “I want you to be my best friend forever. In fact, that’s pretty much the one thing in life I’m certain of. Life, and especially our line of work, is filled with uncertainties. B—but I know, with my whole heart, that you’re my best friend, a—and I want you around for the rest of my life. You’re so incredibly kind and gentle, yet fiercely protective of the people you love. You’re selfless, and funny, and thoughtful, and honestly just…the best friend I could ever ask for. So, I vow, as I have since almost day one, to have your back, always, at work and in life. No matter what obstacles we face, no matter what life throws at us, through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows…I promise to be there for you, always.”

A silence follows that’s almost electric. Like the static that had been in Buck’s head earlier has migrated to fill the air around them. He has no idea if he even did it right—he’s never had to come up with vows before, obviously. He knows it doesn’t really matter, ultimately, but there’s still something within Buck that, for some reason, wants to do this right, despite his protests.

It could just be a trick of the light, but Buck swears he sees the slight shimmer of unshed tears along Eddie’s waterline. It’s probably his imagination, though. Buck knows he said some nice things, but like, Eddie already knows Buck always wants to be there for him…right? Eddie has to know what he means to Buck.

Theo pokes Eddie’s shoulder impatiently, seemingly unbothered by or somehow unaware of the heavy silence that fills the room.

“Your turn,” he prompts, nudging Eddie once more.

Eddie shakes his head slightly, as if coming back into himself. He blinks a few times, and the sheen of tears quickly vanishes—yeah, Buck must’ve been imagining things.

“Right,” Eddie says gruffly. He clears his throat. “Okay. So.” Buck really has to stop hallucinating things; he swears he notices a slight trembling in Eddie’s hands, but that doesn’t make any sense. He gives them a light squeeze and rubs his thumbs over his knuckles soothingly, just in case. “Buck, I…I could go on about what an incredible person you are, how you’re so full of love and light and loyalty, how admirable it is that you’re willing to drop everything to help the ones you love, no matter where or when. But I’m very aware that we’re on a timer, and I don’t want to be cut off.” Eddie chuckles, low and deep, and somehow Buck feels it in his chest. His heart is pounding. Can anyone else hear that? He hopes not, that’d be embarrassing. “So, I’ll echo what you said. I vow to always have your back, no matter what. I trust you with every fiber of my being, in every situation, and I always want you around. Since the first day we met, it’s like my soul somehow knew before I did that we’d be forever linked. And I promise, with all my heart, that you’ll never lose me. Life can throw whatever at us that it wants to, and I’ll always be right by your side, forever.”

Buck may have forgotten how to breathe.

Like, fundamentally, somehow.

Either that, or somehow someone has sucked all the oxygen out of the room.

Regardless, he doesn’t really know how he’s supposed to function now.

Buck knows when Eddie’s bullshitting—when he’s saying stuff just to say stuff, when he doesn’t truly mean what he’s saying but is playing nice anyway.

This is not that.

Everything Eddie just said was honest, and vulnerable, and real, and…Buck doesn’t know what to do with that.

On some level, he does know what he means to Eddie; they’re best friends, and he recognizes that they have the sort of unbreakable bond that’s forged in fire.

This feels different.

This feels like more than just something you say to your friend, more than kind words of reassurance of their place in your life.

It feels like love.

Something twists inside Buck’s stomach, like his insides are being put through one of those saltwater taffy machines.

“Damn.”

Buck's head snaps in the direction of the word just uttered with soft surprise. 

“Christopher,” Eddie reprimands immediately, breaking the spell left by his vows.

“Sorry, sorry,” Chris quickly apologizes. “Just slipped out.”

Buck briefly wonders if he should tell Theo not to repeat that word. His gaze tracks over to where the little guy’s still standing on the coffee table, attention currently completely focused on using his index finger to trace the outline of the dinosaur on his shirt. 

Probably best to let it go and hope he didn't hear it.

“Um.” Chris leans his weight onto one crutch while he digs a hand into one of his pockets, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. He produces two tiny packages and presents them to Theo, who looks up from the dinosaur on his shirt and takes them with a smile, one package enclosed in each of his tiny hands. “It’s time for the rings.”

It finally registers to Buck just what those packages are.

They’re ring pops. Specifically, the ring pops he uses as rewards for Theo.

He didn’t realize Chris knew where Buck hid them. He also has no recollection of Chris going to get said ring pops.

“Chris, where did you get those? When did you get those?”

Chris just responds with a shrug. He truly is his father’s son.

“I’m very observant, I know where you keep them. And I got them while you were taking your sweet time walking out here and mumbling to yourself. Theo agreed to let you guys have them for this. His wedding present to you.”

Theo nods enthusiastically in agreement.

Buck feels a distinct burning sensation behind his eyes and finds it difficult to swallow. Theo is very serious about his ring pops; they’re one of his absolute favorite treats. So for him to be willing to part with not one but two of them for the sake of this wedding…it just. It means a lot. 

“You have to put the rings on each other now, okay?” Theo tells Buck and Eddie, holding the ring pops out in front of him.

Buck glances at Eddie briefly before taking the offered “ring,” noting that the previously hallucinated tears in his eyes are back. This time, they might be real, though, if he’s also recognized the gravity of Theo’s wedding gift.

He can’t think about it too much, though, or else he’ll dissolve into a puddle of tears.

Instead, he unwraps Eddie’s ring pop. He frowns slightly, glancing from the plastic ring attached to the giant diamond-shaped mound of sugar to his own thick fingers, then across to Eddie’s slightly thinner yet still large fingers currently holding the other unwrapped ring pop.

“Um. I don’t think…” A knock to the side of his foot stops Buck mid-thought. He makes eye contact with Eddie, the source of said knocking, only to see him widen his eyes slightly and shake his head almost imperceptively.

Oh.

Right.

Pointing out that these teeny-tiny plastic rings are made to fit itty-bitty, child-sized fingers and not the chunky sausage fingers of grown men absolutely has the potential to lead to a breakdown.

They’ll figure it out, it’s fine.

“Uh, I—is this really what’s next?” Buck swerves in a hopefully safer direction.

“Yup,” Chris responds with all the confidence of a teenager who obviously knows everything about weddings.

“Oh—okay. Do we…say anything?” Buck looks to Eddie for this, considering he’s actually done this before. He just shrugs. Super helpful.

“I don’t think so,” Chris pipes in.

Buck notices Theo squirming out of the corner of his eye. They should probably wrap this up before he completely loses interest and decides to go find entertainment elsewhere.

He takes Eddie’s hand in his, gently, as if he’s holding a baby bird that he’s worried might fly away if he moves too quickly. He slides the ring pop onto Eddie’s ring finger—well, as best as he can, which is to say it barely makes it to his first knuckle. It looks ridiculous.

And yet, it’s perfect.

Wordlessly, Eddie takes Buck’s hand with all the reverence of a saint holding a sacred artifact, like a sword or cross or something; Buck’s not sure, he never really went to church. 

Not the point.

Eddie also only manages to squeeze the plastic ring just above the first knuckle of Buck’s ring finger, the dark blue candy jewel a stark contrast to his pale skin.

It's stupid, really, for Buck to get emotional at the sight of a candy ring on his finger.

And yet…it still makes his heart squeeze. 

“Okay, Theo, they have the rings. Do you know what to say next?” Chris prompts. 

Theo looks back at Chris and tilts his head slightly to the left. “Not really.”

“You've gotta ask them if they agree to marry each other, to be Mr. and Mrs. Poop, to be husbands forever. They know how they have to answer.”

For some reason, that last part sounds like a threat.

Perhaps it is.

Theo giggles and turns back to Buck and Eddie with a smile. He looks at Buck first. Because of course he does.

“Do you agree to be Mistah Poop, to be the husband to Mrs. Poop forever?” Theo asks, giggling around each “poop” and yet at the same time entirely serious.

Buck can't believe this is his life right now. But he knows what he has to say.

“I do.” Buck has accepted his fate. He shall be Mr. Poop forever. 

Theo turns to Eddie next and asks him the same question—almost. “Do you agree to be Mrs. Poop, the husband of Mistah Poop, forever?”

Eddie, now seemingly endlessly amused by being called Mrs. Poop, grins at Theo before nodding.

“I do.”

Buck genuinely has no idea what’s happening right now. 

He and his best friend just agreed to be Mr. and Mrs. Poop forever.

This has to be some sort of weird, fucked up, cold medicine-induced dream.

Not that Buck has taken any cold medicine recently, but still.

Buck makes eye contact with Eddie, who seems…relaxed. Unbothered by the current events, apparently. In fact, so unfazed by whatever’s happening right now in Buck’s living room that he merely takes Buck’s hand in his once more and gently runs his thumb across his knuckles, soft brown eyes never leaving Buck’s.

Buck really hopes no one else can hear the drumbeat that is his heart.

Chris leans over and stage-whispers to Theo, “Now you say, ‘I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Poop.’”

With the widest smile that takes up his whole face, Theo looks up at Buck and Eddie and proudly states, “I now pruh-dounce you Mistah and Mrs. Poop.”

Chris whispers one more instruction to Theo, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face that’s eerily identical to the one his father has often worn while in Buck’s presence. Buck thinks he’s right to be terrified of it in this instance. “Now say, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’”

Fuck.

Theo scrunches up his tiny button nose. “Do I have to?”

Chris nods sagely. “Yup. Otherwise, it’s not binding.”

Buck loves Chris with his whole heart; he really does. He’d sacrifice himself for that kid any day without hesitation. But he’s currently exploding him with his mind.

“Okay. You may now kiss the bride.”

Theo looks at Buck and Eddie with wide, expectant eyes.

Buck honestly hadn’t even thought about this part. He’d been so worried about the whole wedding of it all and running through his mind how they’d explain to Theo when Eddie inevitably eventually falls in love with some woman and wants to marry her that it’s okay, they don’t actually have to get a divorce because that wedding wasn’t actually legally binding or even slightly real, that kissing Eddie hadn’t even crossed his mind.

He’d been too preoccupied with his spiraling thoughts, but also ignoring the pit in his stomach that shows up whenever he thinks about how none of this is real. He knows the pit is for Theo—because he seems so excited, and he doesn’t want to break his little heart that’s already gone through so much pain—but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Buck locks eyes with Eddie. He looks…oddly unbothered. Like this is just something they do.

Which it’s not, to be clear.

To the naked eye, Eddie doesn’t seem to be feeling much about anything in this particular moment, actually.

But Buck knows Eddie. And while he’s mostly neutral, like 99% cool, calm, and collected, there’s the tiniest hint of hesitation behind his eyes.

Buck sees it. He’s just not sure how to interpret it.

He raises his eyebrows in silent question, a wordless conversation flowing between them in the span of half a second.

Are you okay with this? We don’t have to.

Eddie shrugs, lower lip protruding ever so slightly.

That fucking shrug.

Eh, it’s fine. Let’s do it.

So they’re doing this.

It’s fine, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a kiss. For a fake wedding.

It’s just for show, to please Theo, and then it’ll all be over and they can get back to baking those stupid bars that Buck is beginning to wish he’d never suggested they make.

If he’s going to kiss Eddie, he should probably move. Like, now. Tilt his head forward or something.

He takes the tiniest step forward, just enough so there’s no longer space between their feet. Progress.

He should do something with his hands, probably. Well, one is still in Eddie’s hand, which is…yeah. Buck lifts the other up and hesitantly places it on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s suddenly forgotten what one does with their hands when they’re going to kiss someone.

A glimmer of amusement flashes in Eddie’s eyes before he reaches forward to cup Buck’s cheek in his hand, running the pad of his thumb over his cheekbone. He guides Buck’s head forward, and Buck barely has time to register the fact that Eddie’s hand is somehow the size of half of his face before his brain is effectively shut down because—

They’re kissing.

Eddie’s lips are on his. Buck now knows that Eddie’s lips are soft and slightly wet, but not in a gross way, and—he thought this was supposed to just be a peck.

Just for show.

But Eddie’s hand is holding Buck’s head steady, and he’s showing no signs of immediately pulling away.

Buck’s actually okay with that.

More than okay, really.

He lets his hand rest more solidly on Eddie’s shoulder, brushes his thumb along the base of Eddie’s neck. He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, moving his lips against Eddie’s experimentally. Eddie responds by pulling Buck in even closer, tilting his head in the opposite direction, and deepening the kiss just so.

This is…wow. It’s arguably one of the most family-friendly kisses Buck has ever had, and yet—something this simple has never made his heart race so fast, never pooled heat in his stomach this instantaneously, or made fire course through his veins like this.

It’s electric, and it’s Eddie, and Buck doesn’t want it to stop.

He vaguely registers movement next to him, though his eyes remain closed.

All that exists right now is Eddie, and his perfect lips, and his gentle hand caressing Buck’s face.

And then Chris’s voice, breaking through the silence.

“Gross,” he mutters.

Eddie’s lips curve into a smile against Buck’s before he lets out a breathy chuckle. He presses forward the tiniest hair, a breath of a peck against Buck’s lips, so featherlight that Buck could almost convince himself he imagined it if he wasn’t so attuned to every detail of what is currently happening in this moment, and then pulls back.

All Buck can do is stare. Stare at the man in front of him, who’s staring back with an almost shy smile and an unmistakable blush painted across his cheeks.

Unfortunately, there are indeed other people in the room with them right now.

Well, maybe that’s a good thing. Otherwise, Buck’s not sure what he’d do.

“Can we finish making the ni-mo bars now?” Theo asks, squirming like he’s got ants in his pants.

Just then, as if on cue, Chris’s alarm goes off, indicating that it’s time to take the crust out of the fridge.

“Perfect timing!” Chris declares. He honestly looks just as over this wedding as Theo does, though Buck would guess it’s for a completely different reason.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket, adjusts his crutches, and rolls his shoulders back while Theo hops off the coffee table.

Eddie looks deep into Buck’s eyes, as if piercing into his soul somehow, a twinkle of a certain something that Buck can’t quite decipher sparkling around his irises. He gives Buck’s arm a gentle squeeze before turning and ushering the boys into the kitchen.

Buck still doesn’t know what’s happening.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of powdered sugar and butter and melted chocolate.

When the last layers of the Nanaimo bars are put together and the pan is put in the fridge to set one last time, Chris takes Theo into the backyard to play giant connect four, leaving Buck and Eddie to clean up the mess left behind by one of the most frustrating recipes Buck’s ever taken on.

He’s never making these stupid bars again.

The recipe kept calling for everything to be put in a medium bowl—but not the same medium bowl. How many medium bowls can someone possibly be expected to have? Buck has one. So he’s washed it about a billion times already.

Not to mention the fact that Theo discovered the joys of powdered sugar. That was fun. Definitely didn’t result in the kitchen being completely covered in a dusting of white powder that Buck’s currently attempting to mop off the floor.

This wasn’t even supposed to be a complicated recipe. He specifically chose it because there was no actual baking involved, limiting the possibility of an oven-related fiasco.

Whatever. Next time, they’re making sugar cookies. The kind you get from the store with the little holiday shapes on them that you just plop right onto a baking pan. He’ll send Theo outside with Chris for the whole baking-in-the-oven part.

Buck reaches over to where Eddie’s currently washing dishes in the sink and runs the cloth in his hand under the faucet to dampen it. His shoulder brushes against Eddie’s for the briefest of moments.

Which is fine. Doesn’t result in electric sparks shooting down Buck’s arm, for the record.

He crouches down and begins scrubbing at the cabinets that somehow have cocoa powder and melted butter splattered across them, even though he was the only one handling those particular ingredients.

A prickle creeps up the base of his neck, an eerie sensation like someone’s burning a hole into the back of his head with their eyes. Buck turns his head to look back at Eddie, the only other occupant in the room, but he appears to be laser-focused on scrubbing that goddamn medium bowl.

Weird.

They should probably discuss the elephant in the room that is the fact that they got pseudo-married in the living room by Buck’s foster kid a couple of hours ago. And yet, they don't. 

Which, to be completely fair to Eddie, is partially Buck's fault.

He wants to bring it up, but he just doesn't know how. 

Hey Eddie, so you know how we just kinda got married? What do you think about that?

That doesn't seem right.

I know that marriage was fake and all and not at all legally binding but I think that kiss we had fundamentally changed me as a human being so can we talk about it?

Yeah, that’s somehow worse.

I think I’m in love with you and the thought of you someday marrying someone else makes me wanna throw up.

Wait, what?

Buck doesn’t know where that thought even came from. He also doesn’t really want to deal with it right now, so he decides to tuck it away in a box and shove it in the corner of the highest shelf in his mind. He moves the box labeled “Probably Has ADHD But Can’t Be Bothered To Get Tested Right Now” in front of it for good measure.

He’ll deal with it later.

He’s not really sure when later will be, though, because he and Eddie finish cleaning up the kitchen in total silence. Neither one of them brings up the events that transpired that day, and with the way Eddie’s acting, it’s as if nothing actually happened at all. It’s like, to him, it was just a normal day of baking at the Buckley household.

And then…well. Chris and Eddie go home. The four of them each eat one of the traitorous treats that they created while Theo explains in great detail how he defeated Chris at giant connect four a grand total of three times. Then, Eddie makes a show of putting his ring pop back on his finger, as he’d promised Theo he would when he removed it so it wouldn’t interfere with their baking, and he and Chris walk out the door.

So, yeah, they don’t talk about it.

And maybe they wouldn’t need to, ever. 

Except, after Theo tosses a plush basketball back and forth with Buck for a while and then colors five pages of his coloring book and Buck finally convinces him to brush his teeth and go to bed, Theo asks a question that makes Buck realize that, yeah, well, they do.

Need to talk about it, that is.

Theo curls up on his side and twists his head to look at Buck, who’s perched on the edge of his bed. 

“Why didn’t Eddie stay here?” he asks.

Under normal circumstances, this question wouldn’t actually phase Buck. More than once, Eddie, and sometimes both Eddie and Chris, have stayed over at Buck’s house for the night, usually after a late night or on the weekend.

But Theo’s reasoning makes this question anything but normal.

“You two are married now, shouldn’t he be here?”

That—is a valid assumption, actually. Theo’s parents were married, and they lived together. They slept in the same house, in the same room even, so of course he’s confused. To Theo, Buck and Eddie just got married. Therefore, with the logic equivalent to that of the Commutative Property, he thinks that Buck and Eddie should be living together.

It’s valid. His logic isn’t flawed.

Except that Buck and Eddie aren’t actually married. Legally, at least.

But Theo doesn’t know that.

It’s complicated. So, Buck basically says as much.

“Well…Eddie and Chris still have all of their stuff at their house, not here,” Buck explains. He kinda thinks he’s killing it, actually, this whole giving reason to a four-year-old without having to tell him Mr. and Mrs. Poop aren’t actually married. Buck’s not prepared to break his little heart like that. “It’s complicated, buddy. It’ll take a while for us to figure everything out. So, things aren’t going to change around here for a while, okay?”

Theo nods, readily accepting Buck’s explanation.

Or maybe he’s just falling asleep and too tired to question it, judging by his slow blinks and slightly unfocused eyes.

“Mkay.”

Theo twists his head back so it’s lying comfortably on his pillow and snuggles deeper under the covers.

“Goodnight, Theo. I love you,” Buck says quietly as the tiny human’s eyes blink closed and don’t open again.

“‘Night, love you,” Theo mumbles back before the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest indicates that he’s quickly succumbed to sleep.

Buck watches him for a moment, appreciating these tiny snapshots of memories where things are peaceful and calm and he doesn’t have to worry if he’s doing the right thing.

He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Theo’s curls before slowly standing from the bed and quietly shuffling off to his own room.

Theo may have accepted Buck’s explanation for now, but that also may have just been a fluke.

Buck vows to talk to Eddie during their next shift.

Eddie’s acting…surprisingly normal.

Well, maybe not that surprisingly, considering he’s acting the exact same way he was when they finished making the Nanaimo bars yesterday.

Which is to say, he’s acting like they didn’t just get married in Buck’s living room with Theo as the officiant and Chris as the witness.

Is it legally binding? No. But it’s real to Theo.

Oh, and they kissed.

That’s a thing that happened. It’s a thing that Buck can’t stop thinking about, actually. It kept him up way too late last night because he couldn’t stop replaying that moment over and over again in his mind, feeling the ghost of Eddie’s lips on his.

It’s driving him nuts, is the thing.

And yet Eddie’s acting like none of that even happened.

He’s at the firehouse before Buck, like he usually is, and he’s got a cup of coffee waiting for Buck, like he has ever since Buck mentioned that his mornings have gotten so crazy since fostering Theo that he doesn’t even have time to have breakfast.

Today, the snack that Eddie shoves into Buck’s hand, along with the warm coffee, is a protein bar. It just so happens to be his favorite brand and flavor, because of course it is.

Eddie’s so thoughtful, always knowing exactly what Buck needs, and yet…right now, Buck can’t seem to figure Eddie out at all. He studies Eddie’s face as he takes the offered food and drink, trying to decipher any tiny hint of difference from how Eddie looks on any other day, but he can’t spot anything.

Well, good to know one of them isn’t spiraling about the whole “married” thing.

“Thanks,” Buck mumbles. He sits on the arm of the couch while Eddie leans back against the railing of the loft across from him, scrolling through his phone. Buck unwraps his protein bar and takes a bite, chewing it slowly before washing it down with a healthy sip of coffee, all the while staring at Eddie.

He traces his eyes along the curve of Eddie’s jaw, down the prominent muscles of his neck, tracking the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He notes the sharp angle of Eddie’s nose, his long eyelashes framing his eyes perfectly as he looks down at his phone, the light pink tinge dusting across his cheeks.

Objectively, Eddie is a beautiful man. Buck knows this. Has known it since the first day he saw him and his stupid eight-pack. But he’s never really allowed himself to look, and just…wow.

Buck is thinking thoughts he probably shouldn’t be thinking.

In a moment of weakness, he allows himself to flicker his eyes to Eddie’s lips. The same lips that were on Buck’s lips yesterday. They’re pink, and soft, and perfect, and they somehow feel so right against his, and—

Buck definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. He’s at work.

He glances up at the soft strands of hair that have already escaped from their gel prison, perfectly framing Eddie’s forehead, and he has the inexplicably urge to brush them aside. 

Buck takes another bite of his protein bar. Another sip of coffee.

He needs to pull himself together.

After a few minutes, Eddie glances up from his phone, eyes going straight to Buck’s face. Buck blinks. Maybe he should be a little embarrassed that he got caught staring, but in his defense, there’s nothing else to even look at up here; he has no idea where Harry, Ravi, Hen, and Chimney are, but it’s not up in the loft.

If Eddie knows Buck had been staring at him the whole time, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, his eyes flicker down to Buck’s lips briefly before meeting his eyes. He points to the corner of his own mouth, and a soft smile spreads across his lips.

“You’ve got some chocolate…” Eddie taps the corner of his own mouth for emphasis.

“Oh, uh—” Buck reaches up and swipes at the corner of his mouth with his hand, wiping the other corner as well for good measure. “Thanks.”

Eddie smirks, and his warm, chocolate eyes sparkle. “No problem.”

Eddie glances down at his phone one more time before clicking it off and pocketing it, refocusing his eyes on Buck.

Buck glances around the loft, confirming that they’re alone, and makes a decision. They should talk about this.

He takes a careful sip of his coffee. It’s perfect, as always; Eddie knows exactly how much sweetener and creamer to add so it’s just to Buck’s liking, and somehow even anticipates the days that he needs it to be extra strong.

Usually, Buck appreciates it. Today, it’s annoying.

Because today it makes his heart do a weird little flip.

Well…it’s possible that that happens every time. He’s just always brushed it off as an appreciative flip, or whatever. Like a “hey, that’s so nice that you know me so well, thanks, bestie!” kind of thing.

Except today, Buck knows it’s definitely not that.

Today, Buck is pseudo-married to his best friend and had a revelation while said best friend’s lips were on his and he’s really not sure what to do about it and he really needs to talk about it.

“So—” Buck starts. He clears his throat. He doesn’t actually know how to begin this conversation. So he takes another bite of his protein bar. It’s delicious.

Eddie tilts his head to the side and looks at Buck, giving him his full attention, like he’s a dog and Buck just said the magic word.

Buck takes a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Eddie blinks. It’s really not fair that his eyelashes are so long.

Focus, Buck.

“So,” he begins again, “can we—”

Buck swears the universe is absolutely fucking with him, for some reason.

Because of course he can’t even get a full sentence out before the alarm bells blare and the station erupts in a flurry of activity.

Eddie sends Buck an apologetic look before turning and huffing it downstairs to the engine. 

Buck sighs, downing the final gulp of his coffee and shoving the last bit of protein bar into his mouth before racing down the stairs behind Eddie.

It’s fine, he supposes. They’ve got a long shift ahead of them—plenty of time to pull Eddie aside and talk to him, at some point.

Buck swears this was the shift from Hell.

He’s not sure who he royally pissed off, but he’s really sorry. Truly.

Since that first alarm rang through the firehouse, the 118 was called out to back-to-back calls all day. Most were unremarkable, but it’s like the people of Los Angeles decided today would be the day to all set their kitchens on fire or fall down the stairs or get their heads stuck places heads shouldn’t go. Finally, around midnight, they got an hour of reprieve, just enough time for a quick bite and a short nap, before it started all over again.

Buck slumps forward, sitting on the bench in the locker room with his elbows on his knees. Every molecule of his body is exhausted. He just wants to curl up on the floor, right here, and sleep.

His stomach decides to remind him he’s barely eaten more than a protein bar all day in the loudest way possible.

An all-too-familiar chuckle sounds from his right.

Buck sighs. Eddie.

With all the chaos that was the last 24 hours, Buck hadn’t gotten a chance to even have a moment to talk to Eddie about the weather, let alone the wedding-shaped elephant in the room.

Buck glances up in time to see Eddie putting his jacket on, his torso moving in just the right way to reveal a thin strip of his tan, perfectly sculpted abs as he pulls his arm through the sleeve.

He swallows. It’s fine, it doesn’t matter. It’s just skin. He’s seen it a million times before.

Buck continues to watch Eddie, too tired to care if Eddie thinks it’s weird or not.

And then—all thoughts leave Buck’s brain.

Just…poof. Floating away into the ether like the tiny seeds of a dandelion on a windy day.

Because Eddie just reached into his locker and pulled out a small ziploc baggie. The bag isn’t the important part, though. The important part is what’s inside the plastic bag.

It’s Eddie’s ring.

Not his wedding band from all those years ago, but the ring pop Buck had placed on his finger yesterday.

Was it yesterday? The day before? Doesn’t matter; time has no meaning.

Buck must make some sort of sound, because just then Eddie turns to him. His face is…unreadable. As in, it’s like a stone wall that Buck’s usual Eddie-interpreting powers cannot penetrate. The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, and his eyes don’t leave Buck as he slips the bag into his pocket.

That’s…fine. It’s fine, really, that Eddie decided to bring the candy ring from their living room wedding with him to work. It definitely doesn’t make Buck’s heart pound in his chest.

“Can we, um—” Buck clears his throat, voice gravely from exhaustion and probably something else that he doesn’t want to think about right now. “Can we…talk? About. Um.” Buck glances up at Eddie’s face, then back to the pocket that he knows holds the baggy with the ring pop, then down to his own hand, where his ring finger twitches subconsciously, back up to Eddie’s face. Words. Words would be good right now, to explicitly say what he would like to talk to Eddie about. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth are not communicating for some reason.

Luckily, Eddie reads him like a book.

“Yeah,” he says, voice soft, a soothing balm on Buck’s frayed nerves. “Yeah, let’s talk. My place?” Eddie closes his locker and shrugs his bag over his shoulder, looking down at Buck, who’s still sitting on the bench.

“Um, I—I have to get Theo, he’s with Maddie, and—”

Eddie stops him with a shrug. “Tell her your shift ran late. Or don’t give a reason and just ask her if she can watch him for another hour or so. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

Buck knows Eddie’s right; Maddie is somehow the Theo whisperer, and he turns into a perfect angel whenever he’s around her.

He swallows and nods. Too many times, really. He probably looks like a bobblehead. “Y—yeah. Okay.”

Eddie steps forward and claps a large hand on Buck’s shoulder. “See you in a bit.” He gives Buck’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before walking out of the locker room.

Buck swallows. His shoulder burns with the memory of Eddie’s hand.

“You cannot be serious.” The sound of Harry’s voice grabs Buck’s attention before he can get lost in another thought spiral. “May’s favorite color isn’t blue.”

Ravi and Harry enter the locker room, not even sparing Buck a glance, engaged in an apparently important debate.

“It definitely is,” Ravi argues. “Specifically, sky blue. She loves it.”

“No, her favorite color is pink,” Harry insists, opening up his locker with a loud bang. “I’m her brother, I would know.”

“Yeah, well, I’m her boyfriend.”

Buck squeezes his eyes shut tight enough that he still sees white spots for a moment when he opens them again. This cannot be an actual conversation that’s happening right now.

He releases a soft sigh before pulling his hoodie on over his head.

“You’re both wrong, by the way,” he calls over to Ravi and Harry as he stands from his position on the bench. They both look over at him with looks of surprise, seemingly unaware that he could hear their conversation, even though he’s been right here the whole time.

“May’s favorite color is orange.”

Ravi and Harry simultaneously scrunch up their noses and turn to each other with matching looks of disbelief. Before they can answer Buck and subsequently pull him any further into whatever the hell is going on, he shrugs his bag over his shoulder and leaves the locker room.

He has more important things to worry about.

The drive to Eddie’s house is simultaneously the longest drive of his life, while also being over in the blink of an eye.

All too soon, he’s parked on the curb in front of Eddie’s house.

He should go inside.

That’s what you do when you go over to someone’s house with the intention of having an important conversation. You go inside.

And yet.

Buck fiddles with the drawstrings on his sweatshirt, making sure they’re exactly even. It’s very important that they’re the same length. The most important thing, actually. 

It’s almost equally important that he makes sure his mirrors are perfectly adjusted, though. So that they’re in the correct position for the ultimate safety when he eventually drives home. Right. Buck tweaks his rearview mirror and then moves both his sideview mirrors back and forth. They definitely don’t end up in the same place as where they started.

He’s stalling.

He’s well aware of this.

With a sigh, Buck sticks his phone in his pocket and steps out of the car. He can do this; it’s just a simple conversation, and then everything will be okay.

There’s no reason for his heart to feel like it’s about to leap out of his chest.

He walks up to Eddie’s front door and—hesitates.

Normally, he’d just walk in.

Normally, he’d push the door open without hesitation, toe his shoes off by the wall, and plop himself down in his spot on the couch, like he's done a million times.

But nothing about what’s happened lately qualifies as normal.

Buck shakes his head, frustrated at how ridiculous he’s being. It’s not like he’s going to ring the doorbell; this is his best friend’s house, he knows he can always let himself in.

Actually, it’s his husband’s—

Nope.

Not even going there.

Buck pushes the door open and is immediately greeted by a smiling Eddie holding two glasses of water.

Weird.

Everything feels weird.

Buck raises his eyebrow in silent question as he takes his shoes off and places them in their usual spot by the door.

“I, um,” Eddie swallows, holding a glass out to Buck, who silently accepts. “I thought you might be thirsty? I almost went for beer out of habit, but then I remembered that you have to drive to get Theo after this.”

After this.

After they have this conversation that Buck doesn’t even know how to begin.

Buck tilts his head to the side before taking a sip of water. They both make their way over to their usual positions on the couch and settle in as if nothing life-changing happened the other day.

Maybe for Eddie it hadn’t.

“It’s also 9:30 AM,” Buck deadpans.

Eddie lets out a soft chuckle.

“Yeah, that too.” He lifts his eyebrows in agreement before taking his own sip of water.

For a few moments, they sit there in silence, sipping on their waters and acting like they’re just hanging out together after a shift like they have countless times before.

Buck came over here to talk, though.

And they’re not talking.

He has to say something. Anything. Just something to get the conversation started, at least.

Chris. He could ask about Chris. That’s a good icebreaker. Except he already knows where Chris is. And he knows that Eddie knows that he knows where Chris is. So that would be a stupid question to ask.

“What’s May’s favorite color?”

That’s—okay. That works, kind of.

It definitely throws Eddie off.

“That’s what you wanted to come over and talk about?” He turns to look at Buck with a raised eyebrow. “May’s favorite color?”

“No, I just—that’s not—just. Answer the question. Please.”

Eddie furrows his brow. “Okay…it’s purple. Why?”

“What? No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.” Eddie seems so sure of himself, so confident in his answer. And yet—

“No, her favorite color is orange, Eddie. Bright, sunny orange,” Buck insists.

“Mmm…no. That’s her second favorite color. Her first favorite color is purple, like a light, lavender shade of purple.”

Buck closes his eyes for a moment. He could’ve sworn May’s favorite color was orange. But…there is a chance that Eddie might be right. It could be purple.

He opens his eyes and looks at Eddie curiously, tilting his head to the side. “What about blue and pink?”

Eddie nods, as if he’s taking this conversation about May’s favorite color entirely too seriously and actually searching through the rolodex in his brain for the answer to Buck’s question.

“She likes blue. Light blue, especially. Probably her third favorite color.” Eddie scrunches up his nose. It’s distractingly adorable. “I don’t think she really likes pink, though.”

“Wha—why do you even know all of this?” Buck asks, eyebrow raised in confusion.

Eddie shrugs. Buck sighs internally.

“I know things,” he says, as if that’s the best explanation in the world. “I pay attention.”

To be entirely fair, Buck does know this about Eddie. He pays attention. Almost to an alarming degree, really.

Eddie pays attention to every detail relating to the people he cares about. He knows what types of pens Chimney prefers to use because they don’t smear. He makes sure they always have the specific brand of chamomile tea stocked in the firehouse that Hen likes. He knows Buck’s favorite brand and flavor of protein bar, even though he never told him, and he also always knows just when Buck needs a little something special to make his day a bit brighter.

It shouldn’t actually be surprising that he knows May’s favorite color.

Buck takes another sip of his water. He really doesn’t know why he thought this discussion would somehow easily lead to a conversation about the fact that they got fake-married. And how that’s currently impacting Theo, which is Buck’s biggest concern.

Definitely not the fact that the kiss they shared has been playing on repeat in his head whenever Eddie’s in his vicinity. Which, because they work together, is often.

Buck glances over when he senses movement next to him. He watches Eddie take his own sip of water, observes the bob of his throat as he swallows, notices his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop before it can spill past his lips.

He looks back at the glass in his hands, determined to focus on anything other than the incredibly intrusive thought that is the idea of what Eddie’s tongue might feel like in his mouth.

That’s not helpful.

Eddie places his glass down on the table in front of them with a soft clunk and turns to face Buck fully. He refuses to do the same, continuing to bore a hole in his own glass with his eyes.

“So, what did you really want to talk about?”

Fuck.

Well, that’s one way to start the conversation.

Buck takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. He places his own glass on the coffee table before leaning back on the couch and turning his head to look at Eddie.

Eddie’s eyes are so wide, open, and vulnerable. It’s unfair, really, that he just looks like that. 

“So…well. We got married.”

Such a good start. Wow. Great job, Buck. Stating facts that Eddie’s already aware of.

“Yeah, I was there.”

Buck sighs. He rubs a hand across his face before turning his body toward Eddie, mirroring his position and leaning his head against his hand, propped up on the back of the couch.

“Yeah, so…Theo thinks that was real.” Buck scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. Might as well just dive in. Get it all out there. Well, the important part, at least. Not the part about him wanting to kiss Eddie again and never stop. That’s locked in a vault in his mind, never to be opened again. “Like. Last night, he asked me why you went home, since we’re married. And he thinks married people should live together. Because he’s four. And he thought that wedding was real.”

Eddie just stares at Buck with soft, sparkling eyes and tilts his head to the side. It’s like he somehow knows that Buck isn’t done yet, that he’s just opened the floodgates.

He’s correct.

“And, like, Eddie—I’m fine with him thinking that. Like, it doesn’t bother me that he thinks that wedding was real. Except, well, I’m worried about what might happen when he inevitably finds out that it’s not.”

“What do you mean by inevitably?” Eddie cuts him off.

Buck opens and closes his mouth. Once. Twice. He thought Eddie would just let him ramble on until he tired himself out and then step in with his solution. Likely one that Buck probably could have thought of himself if he were thinking clearly.

But no, Eddie cuts him off mid-ramble, and now Buck has to regroup.

“Uh—well, I…I—I just mean…what about when you get a girlfriend, right? You’re not going to stay single for the rest of your life. So, what am I supposed to tell him when you start dating some woman and he notices and like—thinks you’re cheating on me, or something? And then what if you end up wanting to marry her? How are we supposed to tell him we’re getting a divorce? It’ll break his little heart, Eddie.”

“Buck, I’m never going to divorce you.”

“Well, yeah, I know that we aren’t actually married, but Theo thinks we are. And if you want to get married to someone else, like, legally, then we'll have to tell him we’re getting a divorce just to explain it, ya know?” Buck feels so much pent-up energy inside him—if he were standing, he’d definitely be pacing. But he currently feels like he’s glued to the couch, rooted in place. The best he can do for now is bounce his leg up and down. “Obviously, it won’t be a real divorce, but…like I said, to him it will be. So I just…want to know what to do. How we should navigate this.”

Eddie reaches over and places a hand on Buck’s knee, effectively halting the bouncing.

If that simple touch sends sparks through Buck’s leg, that’s nobody’s business.

“Hey, listen to me.”

Buck blinks. He’s listening.

“You’re worrying about something that’s never going to be an issue.”

He says it with such authority, such confidence, that Buck almost believes him. Almost.

Except that obviously can’t be true.

“Eddie, I—that doesn’t…what do you mean?”

Eddie tilts his head to the side, studying Buck’s face as if he’s considering something, choosing his next words carefully.

“I just…I kind of had an epiphany.”

“An epiphany,” Buck echoes.

“Mhm.” Eddie nods. Like it’s simple. Like he doesn’t need to explain anything beyond that.

Buck needs him to explain.

Immediately. Please.

“About…?” he hedges.

Eddie shrugs. That small, casual, easy shrug that Buck both loves and hates. It’s hard to explain.

“You. Me. Us.”

Buck blinks. That really doesn’t give him enough information.

Buck knows that Eddie is, generally speaking, a man of few words. Sometimes he’ll randomly spit out a one-liner that just punches Buck in the gut, but it’s almost like he doesn’t quite realize the impact of those. Historically, he’s not the greatest at expressing his feelings through words or talking things out. 

Over the years, though, Buck has perfected being able to take whatever words come out of Eddie’s mouth, paired with his microexpressions that he seemingly is unable to control, and decipher whatever it is that he’s truly trying to say.

He seems to have lost that particular ability somewhere between Theo calling Eddie Mrs. Poop and Chris telling Theo to tell them to kiss.

“Eddie, I’m—I’m gonna need you to give me a bit more than that, man,” Buck pleads with a soft chuckle.

There’s a voice nagging in the back of his mind that he tries to shove aside; it sounds a bit too much like hope, for some reason.

“I…” Eddie reaches out and takes Buck’s hand in his. He runs his thumb just above the first knuckle of his ring finger; Buck wonders if the specific placement is intentional or subconscious. “I just kind of realized that I don’t need anyone else.” He shrugs, lifting his eyes from where he’d been looking at their intertwined hands to make eye contact with Buck again. “You’re it for me.”

That static buzzing that had occupied the space in his head the other day is back.

“I’m—it? For you?”

Eddie smiles softly, a strand of dark brown hair falling and framing his forehead perfectly.

“Yeah. You, and Christopher, and now Theo—I don’t need anyone else to be happy. In fact, I think I’d be more than happy to just…spend all my time with you.” Eddie scrunches his nose before rephrasing, “No, I don’t think—I know.”

“You know?”

Eddie nods definitively. Like it’s the most obvious fact in the world.

“So, like…you don’t wanna be with anyone else? You’re happy to just do this?” Buck attempts to clarify. Although he’s not really clarifying much, considering he doesn’t actually know what this is.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s back with that soft, easy smile. He continues absentmindedly running his thumb back and forth across Buck’s finger. It definitely doesn’t make Buck’s heart flutter. “I just—you, and me, and Chris…we’ve kind of been a family for a while, right? And Theo is just—God, I love that kid. I just feel like we all work together, and I love all of you so much and I just…like I said, I don’t feel like I need anything else. I’m not gonna bother looking, is all. So I’m never going to ask for a divorce, if that’s what you’re really worried about.”

For the first time during this whole conversation, a flash of doubt crosses Eddie’s face.

“Well, i—if that’s okay with you,” he clarifies, a subtle ghost of a tremor in his voice.

Buck can’t have that, after all that Eddie’s just said; the doubt, the tremor…he doesn’t want Eddie to have any sort of question in his mind about where Buck stands with all of this.

It seems like later has come. Well, kind of.

Buck tentatively reaches up to the highest shelf in his mind and grabs the box labeled “Maybe Possibly In Love With Eddie.” Of course there’s no dust on it yet; he just put it up there the day before yesterday.

He looks deep into Eddie’s eyes, has to hold himself back from getting lost in all of the swirling emotion he sees there. At this point, he doesn’t even need to open the box himself—it bursts open, like one of those confetti bombs that’s set on a timer.

“Eddie, I—yes, that’s okay with me. More than okay with me, actually. I don’t—” Buck huffs out a breath, glances down for a moment, nudges his knee forward so it’s touching Eddie’s, and makes a decision when Eddie doesn’t pull his knee away. If anything, he presses it against Buck’s like an anchor, like Buck is his grounding force.

The mere thought of that is overwhelming.

Buck locks eyes with Eddie once again and lets it all out.

“Honestly? At first I was worried because of the Theo of it all—like, how he thought the whole wedding was real and that we’re actually married or whatever. But then…Eddie. The idea of you marrying someone else, it just…it makes me sick to my stomach, honestly. And not just for Theo. Not just because it would break his little heart if I had to tell him you fell in love with someone else, or tell him that this whole marriage wasn’t real. And for the last, like, thirty-six hours, I have been absolutely spiraling between worrying about him and also dealing with what it means to have this…pit in my stomach at the idea of you marrying someone else, or at least at the possibility that we wouldn’t be married anymore. Which is insane, right? Like, this isn’t even a legally binding marriage. And yet…the only conclusion that I’ve been able to draw from all of this, even though nothing actually makes sense right now, is that I think I’m in love with you.” Buck takes a breath, letting that sentence settle in his bones. He huffs out a breath of a laugh. “Not to mention the fact that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about kissing you. Do you know how absolutely ridiculously difficult it’s been to not kiss you every time I see you now? I’ve kissed a lot of people, man, and I swear I’ve never been this obsessed over someone’s lips after one simple kiss. In fact, there’s almost nothing else I’d rather do than kiss you, and I—”

Buck is effectively silenced by the presence of Eddie’s hand on his face.

“Buck.”

He swallows. Suddenly, he wishes he’d finished his water before they started this conversation because he’s absolutely parched.

And Eddie’s face is somehow closer to his than he remembers it was two seconds ago.

Which doesn’t help things.

“Do it,” Eddie murmurs.

Buck blinks.

Another version of Buck would know exactly what Eddie means by that. He’d be able to decipher those two words and do whatever it is that Eddie’s asking of him.

This version of Buck is apparently stupid.

“Wh—what?” He asks, blinking again, lips slightly parted in confusion.

Eddie leans in even closer, brushing the tip of his nose against Buck’s, the warmth of his breath ghosting over Buck’s lips.

“Kiss me,” Eddie whispers.

Oh.

Eddie—Eddie wants—

Okay.

That’s…yeah. Buck can do that. Buck wants to do that.

He doesn’t actually need to do much, as Eddie’s guided his lips within a fraction of a centimeter of his own.

The last bit of caution leaves Buck’s body, just flies off into the distance like a bird released from its cage, and he closes the distance between them to press his lips against Eddie’s.

It starts off slow, gentle, much like their first kiss. Buck takes his time memorizing the contours of Eddie’s lips, perfectly plush and pliant beneath his. Eddie uses the hand still holding his to pull him in even closer so their chests are pressed together. Buck barely has time to register that sensation, the heat between them, before Eddie’s trailing that hand up his arm and around Buck’s shoulder until his fingers are teasing the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, it’s registering to Buck that this is Eddie. His best friend. He’s kissing Eddie.

Again. 

And Eddie’s pretty into it, judging by the way he’s grabbing onto the back of Buck’s neck and how he’s moving his lips against his.

And…this time, there’s no one around watching them.

So Buck does something he’s been thinking about for far too long. Well, since their first kiss, but still. Far too long.

He nibbles slightly on Eddie’s bottom lip, smugly delighted by the soft sight it drags out of him. He does it again, a little harder this time, and is rewarded with a gasp. Buck takes full advantage and sucks on Eddie’s lower lip before slipping his tongue into his mouth, and—

Wow.

Eddie responds with an enthusiasm Buck wouldn’t have expected. He cards his fingers through Buck’s curls, giving them a light tug before attempting to pull Buck in even closer. Buck’s arms wrap around Eddie’s waist, and he’s practically in Buck’s lap, tracing his tongue along Buck’s teeth. They’re all heat, and tongues, and teeth, and Buck can’t get enough.

It’s just—God, he’s making out with Eddie.

He thought their first kiss was the best kiss he’s ever had, but this—oh, this is so much better.

It’s like he can feel Eddie everywhere, all around him, and he doesn’t think there could be anything better.

But then Eddie’s gently pushing against Buck’s shoulder, and it takes a second to register that he’s attempting to guide him backwards rather than pushing him away. Buck takes the hint and settles himself back until he’s lying down on the couch, never breaking the kiss.

Okay, this. This is better.

Because now, Eddie’s on top of him. And Buck can truly feel him everywhere.

Eddie tugs on Buck’s hair with enough force that he tilts his head back and gasps. He can feel Eddie grin against him as he moves to trail kisses, first with a soft nip on the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, and down his neck before attaching to his pulse point, where he just—goes to town, really. As if his life depends on it. And Buck’s absolutely not complaining.

“Fuck, Eddie,” he groans, unable to form anything more coherent than that.

Eddie hums, low and content, and Buck feels it rumble through his body. He grips the back of Eddie’s head, holding him in place, his way of saying stay there, just like that. Clearly, Eddie receives the message loud and clear. Buck feels his smile against his neck before Eddie uses his sharp canines to nip into his skin, immediately soothing over it with his tongue.

Buck lets out a soft moan, tipping his head back as much as possible to give Eddie easier access. He could truly stay here, trapped underneath Eddie forever. Until the day he dies, really. He’d die a happy man.

As if it has a mind of its own, Buck’s hand wanders down Eddie’s back until it reaches the swell of his ass. He squeezes while rolling his hips up experimentally, tentatively, and is rewarded with a whine so beautiful he wants to bottle it up and save it forever.

Fuck yeah.

“Buck,” Eddie pants brokenly into his neck, mouthing at the spot that’s sure to be marked with a dark bruise that he’ll probably get shit for next shift. Buck doesn’t care.

In fact, the thought of it, of being marked—by Eddie—sends heat pooling down his gut all the way to his toes.

Buck squeezes Eddie’s ass again, firmer this time, more sure of himself, and Eddie responds by rolling his hips down, grinding into Buck in a way that can only be described as delicious.

“Ed—”

Whatever Buck was about to say is lost by the sudden, obnoxious, loud rumbling of his stomach.

Fucking hell.

They both freeze, as if someone out there hit ‘pause’ on their TV.

And then, Eddie’s laughing.

Buck thunks his head back onto the couch and groans, bringing a hand up to cover his face.

The moment has effectively been ruined.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, voice muffled by the hand still over his face.

Eddie lifts his head from where it’s been tucked in Buck’s neck. He folds his hands across Buck’s chest and props his chin up so he’s looking directly at Buck’s face, grin wide and blinding.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, I get it; I was on the same shift as you, and I think all I got a chance to eat was an apple and some peanut butter crackers.”

Buck sighs and lets his hand fall to the side with a thump. He refuses to meet Eddie’s gaze.

“Still, probably top five most embarrassing things to happen to me during a makeout session.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Well, what are the other four?” he asks.

Buck grimaces, finally making eye contact with Eddie.

“You really wanna hear about me making out with other people?”

Eddie scrunches up his nose. It’s adorable.

“No, not really.”

Buck chuckles. “That’s what I thought.” He runs his fingers through Eddie’s hair, enjoying the way that Eddie leans into it. He cups Eddie’s jaw, swiping his thumb across his cheekbone before tapping on that tiny freckle just under his eye. Eddie’s eyelashes flutter, and he looks up at Buck with so much raw emotion in his eyes that it makes his heart squeeze.

Buck starts to pull his hand away, but Eddie catches his wrist before he can, turning and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Buck’s palm.

“I love you, by the way,” Eddie says simply, letting go of Buck’s wrist. “Not sure if I really said that earlier.”

He says it so easily, like it’s an obvious fact. He acts like he’s stating the temperature outside rather than saying words that make Buck’s heart sing.

It’s ridiculous.

Buck loves him.

“I love you, too.” He really, really does. He’s sure of it. Probably has since their first shift together, honestly, he just didn’t know how to name it or express it properly.

Eddie absolutely beams in response.

“Good.”

Buck tugs him up for another kiss, because how can he not when he knows he can just do this now.

How is he ever supposed to stop kissing Eddie?

Buck’s stomach growls again, louder this time.

Apparently, that’s how.

“C’mon, big guy, let’s get you something to eat.”

That—okay. That does something to Buck’s insides that he’s going to have to explore at a later date.

Eddie rolls off of Buck and offers a hand to help him off the couch.

Food first.

It takes them way longer to make sandwiches than it should. It’s really not Buck’s fault, though; Eddie just looks so cute when he’s concentrating on slicing his cheese into the perfect sizes that Buck just has to pepper him with kisses.

Eventually, though, they do make it to the kitchen table with full plates. Honestly, as Buck takes the first bite of his sandwich, he thinks it just might be the best sandwich he’s ever made, if he does say so himself.

Definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the person he made said sandwich with.

Which, speaking of—

Eddie looks up at Buck from under his lashes, somehow, even though he’s actually slightly taller than Buck when they’re sitting down, which—yeah, Buck’s totally normal about that.

“Can I take you out to dinner sometime? Like, on an actual date?” Eddie asks, sucking a bit of stray mustard off his thumb.

That’s—okay. Damn.

Buck’s never before wished to be a thumb.

He can’t exactly say that, though. That’d be crazy. Instead, he defaults to humor.

“Oh, Mrs. Poop, I thought you’d never ask!” Buck replies with a dramatic flair.

Eddie throws his head back and lets out a laugh that might be the most beautiful sound Buck’s ever heard.

Man, he’s so down bad.

“God, I can’t believe we’re Mr. and Mrs. Poop,” Eddie manages to get out between laughs. “Why did that have to be the word Theo decided to fixate on?”

Buck shrugs with a grin. “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it eventually.” But then he narrows his eyes. “Maybe,” he amends.

Eddie takes another bite of his sandwich and waves his hand casually while he chews. “It’s whatever,” he says before swallowing. “It doesn’t bother me.”

Buck quirks his lip into a relaxed half-smile, eyeing Eddie fondly. “Doesn’t bother me either.”

They finish eating their sandwiches in comfortable silence, occasionally glancing up at one another with matching smitten smiles.

Buck can’t stop thinking about how they’ve done this all backwards. Sure, they were friends first, but…then they got married. Well, “married,” but still. And then they confessed their love for each other and made out on the couch like a couple of horny teenagers, and now they’re, what? Dating?

Buck swallows the last bite of his sandwich and dusts his hands off on his pants. He chews on the inside of his cheek, feeling another thought spiral rapidly approaching. 

He’s been so happy with how things have developed in the last hour or so that he hadn’t stopped to think about—well, worry about—their relationship changing. And what that might mean.

And all the uncertainties and what-ifs that come with it.

As if he can sense the wheels turning in Buck’s brain, Eddie sets the remainder of his sandwich down on his plate and reaches out to take Buck’s hand in his.

“What’s up?” he asks. Because of course he can read Buck like a book.

Buck sighs. He doesn’t want to fight it, doesn’t want to shove his worries down until he explodes. With Eddie, especially, he wants to be honest. Maybe even vulnerable. So he voices his concern.

“What if—what if things don’t work out? For some reason.”

Eddie tilts his head to the side, eyes never leaving Buck’s. “We’ve had some bumps along the way, sure, but after eight years of friendship, we’ve always managed to find our way back to one another. Why would this be any different?”

Buck feels the tension leave his shoulders, soothed by both Eddie’s words and his overall calm demeanor. He seems so sure of himself, so sure of them and what they mean to each other, Buck can’t help but let that assuredness ease his own worries.

He squeezes Eddie’s hand and runs his thumb along his knuckles.

“Alright, but do you really want to be Mrs. Poop forever?”

“I do.”