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Buck lets himself into Maddie's house and is immediately met by the nostalgic smell of homemade tomato soup, and the sight of Jee at the dining room table, aggressively applying paint marker to a pad of watercolor paper.

She looks up when he closes the door. "Uncle Buck!"

"Hey, Jee." He walks over to kiss her head and peer at her artwork. "Is that an elephant?"

"Mm-hmm," she confirms. "That's the elephant queen."

He looks closer. "Oh, I see the crown now."

Maddie peeks out from the kitchen. "Hey, Buck." She's wearing a stained apron over pajamas.

"Hey, smells good in here." He holds up the loaf of sourdough he brought from home. "Want me to make grilled cheese?"

"Yes, please." She looks at her watch. "I'm going to go change and then get Nash up from his nap. You good till then?"

"Hmm, I think I can stir the soup and grate cheese in your absence."

She smacks his bicep on her way past, stopping to hug Jee and look at her picture. "Ooh, Queen Trumpetta. I like her necklace. Are those rubies?"

"Magic rubies."

"Right, of course." She looks up to smile at Buck. "Okay, I'll be back."

By the time she returns — in jeans and a T-shirt, carrying a sleepy, red-cheeked Nash — Buck is heating up a skillet and spreading mayo over the outside of his carefully assembled sandwiches.

"Those look good — oh, that's a big hole, huh?"

She's looking at the cross-section of his boule, which does have a distressingly large air bubble baked right into the middle.

"Go easy, I'm new to sourdough."

"No, no, it's good. More room for cheese."

"Extra cheese for me, please!" Jee calls out.

"You got it," Buck says, grabbing a handful of grated cheddar from the cutting board where he left it for just this request. "Extra-cheesy grilled cheese for Jee."

"That rhymes!" she exclaims.

"BED!" Nash shouts suddenly from where Maddie plopped him in his high chair.

"That's where you just came from, buddy," Buck says as he sets Jee's sandwich in the frying pan.

"Oh, no, he wants bread," Maddie explains, nabbing a slice for him to nosh on.

Buck makes quick work of finishing up the sandwiches while Maddie ladles tomato soup into bowls — two adult-sized, and two smaller portions for the kids. He pulled his proofing bread dough out of the fridge early this morning when he got the text from Maddie asking if they could switch their dinner plans to lunch plans. Chimney is running a training session at the academy all day, then going out for dinner with the chief, and Buck knows lunch is easier than dinner when she's solo parenting. He doesn't mind the last-minute change — getting Maddie without Chimney is actually ideal. Much better to soft-launch his idea to his big sister than his big sister and his boss.

"So," Maddie says, dipping her sandwich in her soup. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Buck squirms. He knows this could have been a phone call, or even a text. It's a one-sentence request, after all. But he needed to see Maddie's face when he asked the question. Needs her honest read of the situation.

"I was wondering, um. The social worker. That — for Theo, when. Um."

"Diedra?"

"Yeah. Diedra. She's the one you dealt with when you fostered Mara, right?"

"Yeah, she's the best."

Buck keeps his eyes on the table as he brushes the crumbs around his plate into a little pile. "Can I …" He huffs out a big breath. "Can I have her number?"

He hears her swallow, looks up to catch her soft smile. "To check in on him? Like you promised?"

This is an easy out, and for a second, Buck is tempted to just nod and let Maddie think that's all that's on his mind. But that's not why he's here, and he's already hesitated long enough for her to sit up a little.

"Ohhh," she says. "Do you want to do more than check in on Theo?"

He shrugs, then shakes his head. "I don't know, Maddie. I've been doing some research on fostering and, I mean … it's not a good idea, right?"

"It's not not a good idea," she counters gently. Then she looks over at Nash. "Oh, honey, no, the soup goes in your mouth, not your hair."

Buck passes her a washcloth.

"Okay, but — just because Theo has some of my genes doesn't mean I'm the right parent for him. That was Connor and Kameron. They were …" He swallows past the painful tightening in his throat. "I'm not his dad. Not really."

Maddie takes her time answering. She finishes scrubbing tomato out of Nash's hair, takes a bite of her sandwich. Finally, she turns back to look at him. "Buck. You're right. Just being biologically related to Theo doesn't automatically make you the best candidate for the job." She reaches over and squeezes his hand. "But you're not just the sperm donor, right? They were your friends. Theo was born on your couch, for god's sake."

"I'm the first person who held him," Buck says. Confesses. "After he was born. And I knew he wasn't mine."

"Right. And now you've gotten to know him again, and he means something to you. And he needs someone right now."

Jee, who has been quietly munching on her sandwich and arranging her crusts up till now, suddenly pipes up. "Mommy, can I watch some TV?"

"Oh!" Maddie breaks her intense eye contact with Buck. "Sure. You can watch one episode of something."

Buck is glad for the interruption, for the chance to stand up and get a little distance. "Hey, Jee," he says, pulling her chair out a little so she can get down. "Why don't I help you pick something to watch?"

"I want to keep talking about this," Maddie says before he follows Jee to the couch.

After he gets her situated in the living room with an animated show about aliens, he settles back down at the table where Maddie is holding Nash on her lap.

She smiles at him. "Look at you."

He looks down at his shirt, checking for tomato soup spills.

"No, I mean — you are so good with my kids. For what it's worth."

He scrunches his face at her. "That's different. I'm just Uncle Buck. I get to do the fun parts, then go home at the end of the day."

She hands him Nash so she can finish her soup. The squirmy weight of the baby on Buck's lap is calming.

"You're not just Uncle Buck," she says. "What about Eddie's will? He didn't make you Christopher's legal guardian by accident." She says it like it's the last word in the argument, but it doesn't feel that way to Buck.

I still don't really know why Eddie did that, he thinks.

There's a big difference between a fifteen-year-old and a four-year-old.

This feels really different.

"Speaking of Eddie," Maddie continues. "What did he say when you told him what you're thinking about Theo?"

"Uh, I haven't told him yet," Buck says. "I wanted to talk to you first."

Maddie puts down her spoon, eyes widening. "Oh." She presses a hand to her heart. "Oh, wow. Okay, well, I'm honored that you wanted to tell me first."

"Of course," Buck says quickly. "What you think — your opinion means so much to me." He reaches over to squeeze her hand. "You know me so well."

Her eyes fill, and she turns her head to wipe them on her shoulder. "That means a lot. You're going to be a great parent — foster parent — to Theo. I know it."

"Thanks, Maddie," Buck says, blinking away his own tears.

"You know what else I know?"

"What?"

"You're going to feel better after you talk to Eddie. You should tell him soon."

Buck's stomach swoops at the idea, and he opens his mouth to — agree? Protest? He's not sure. But then —

"MORE BED!" Nash screeches, flailing his hand out and flipping Buck's bowl off the table. It was only lukewarm dregs left, but somehow Buck has soup in eyebrows, and the front of Nash's shirt is bright orange.

"Uhh," Buck says, frozen. "What."

Maddie stands up, looking tired but amused. "Don't move."

"Wasn't gonna."

"I'm serious, Buck. Don't let him get down. I'll grab a cloth."

She runs out of the room and after a pause, Buck hears the bathtub tap turn on. He looks down at Nash, who is starting to fuss.

"Pay," Nash says, and it only takes Buck a second to translate this to "play."

"You can play in the bath," Buck tells him, kissing his forehead and coming away with tomato in his mouth. He hoists his nephew up on his hip and heads in the direction of the bathroom. "Let's go find your mom."

—

"Here," Hen says, handing Buck a hanger with an ordinary black sweater on it. "Try this on."

It feels smooth and luxurious as he pulls it on, if a little bit on the tight side. Buck admires himself in the full-length teal-framed mirror. "It's nice, but …" He shrugs. "How much is it?"

"It's …" Hen reaches under the collar in the back to flip the price tag out. "It's 65. Not bad."

"Not —" He scrambles to pull it over his head, get it back on the hanger and stick it on the rack. "That's crazy. I thought we were thrifting."

"Antiquing is not the same as thrifting."

"This is not an antique sweater. Or, or, vintage, or whatever. It's —" He checks the inside back for the manufacturer. It's a brand he doesn't recognize, but it's certainly not more than a few years old. "Not vintage," he finishes.

"I don't know what to tell you, Buck, you're the one who invited yourself along," Hen mutters, sliding hangers across the bar in a haphazard way that screeches and grates at his ears. Her after work plans included going to a pop-up vintage sale in an old warehouse, and instead of nodding and wishing her a fun time, Buck asked for the address.

"Well, yeah …" Buck trails off. This is probably the best inroad he's going to get for this conversation. "I'm — I'm going to need some new clothes coming up."

"Got a hot date or something?"

"N-no, not, no. I need some clothes that are, uh, like, things I can get messy in."

"I am certain this is something I don't need to know about —"

"No! Not like — ugh." Buck puts his face between his palms for a moment and takes a deep breath. "I mean messy like … like because kids get messy."

"Oh?" Hen raises an eyebrow, finally looking up from her rack of clothes. "Doing some babysitting?"

Buck shakes his head. "I'm … I'm thinking about, well, no, I'm not just thinking about it. I'm going to foster, uh, Theo."

There's a moment of what looks like genuine shock on Hen's face before she smiles, her forehead creasing in the middle as her expression softens.

"That's really great, Buck." She squeezes his bicep. "You know … you're not the only one who's gonna need new clothes."

Confused, Buck looks at her with a quizzical eyebrow.

"Theo's a growing boy."

Buck hasn't really given much thought to that reality. He knows that fostering would mean lots of purchases — food, activities, things to set up a bedroom beyond what comes along with him from Kameron and Connor's house. But he hadn't really considered the fact that Theo will need clothes and shoes — and then there are the things that aren't just everyday attire. A sunhat, sunglasses, a swimsuit, sandals. And then he'll need it all again, because he's just going to keep getting bigger.

Maybe he'll need it all again. Assuming the placement goes well, and Theo is happy, and … Not that Buck is assuming.

Oblivious to the panic behind his blank expression, Hen smiles and crosses over to another seller's booth of vaguely antique and vintage items. "Karen and I kept a bunch of Denny's stuff in storage. I figured it'd go to Nash eventually, but it could make a pit stop with Theo before he's ready for them, don't you think?"

"Uh, wow," Buck says, turning away from the sweater rack to face her. "Thank you. That would be a big help."

"Well, good," Hen says. "Have you talked to —"

"I know, I've gotta talk to Eddie." Buck puts his hands up in front of himself. "I swear I'm going to. Please don't say anything about this to him until I do?"

Hen raises her eyebrows. "That's not what I was going to say, but, sure. I won't tell Eddie."

"Oh," he replies, embarrassment warming his cheeks at naming the incorrect assumption. "Uh, thanks."

"I was wondering if you've talked to Chim. If you're taking time off?"

"I'm going to — like, tomorrow. I'm gonna take some time to get Theo settled in."

"Good." She moves past him to grab a white sweatshirt with a pattern of purple, red and teal geometric shapes on it, and first holds it up to Buck, then to herself. "I think this is more my style," she decides, dropping it in her basket.

"Okay," Buck says. He's already decided he's not going to buy anything for himself here. He can just tag along, shop vicariously and work up the courage to ask the question he needs to ask.

"Here," Hen says, pushing her basket into his chest. "I want to look through the jeans."

He follows her to a booth that's just racks of denim and dutifully holds the basket while she checks tags. The basket gets heavier and heavier as she piles pairs of jeans into it.

"Hen," he finally says.

"Mm-hmm?" She's checking the pockets on a pair of Levi's.

"Can I — can I ask you something?"

She turns to face him, and her eyes are kind and calm. She's really listening. "Of course," she says.

"The kids who lived with you before Mara … I mean, I know the first kid you fostered —"

"Nia."

"Right, Nia. She went back to her birth mother, right?"

Hen is nodding. "She did."

"How did you …" He takes a deep breath. "How do I avoid getting attached?"

"Oh, Buck."

"Just — I know I'm technically Theo's birth dad. But. But, I'm not his dad, you know? I don't expect to be that. I'm just stepping in. Because he needs someone, and I can be that someone right now, and I want to. But. I know it's probably not …" He takes a big breath, focuses hard on the display of overalls behind Hen so he doesn't have to meet her gaze. "They're going to try to place him with family. His actual family," he's quick to add. "Diedra, she's, uh, she's looking into all the options. Connor was an only child, and — and she wasn't super specific beyond saying it might take a little while to, uh … to know. I want him to be happy with me, but, I just."

Hen reaches out and squeezes his arm. He takes a shuddery breath.

"I know it's not forever, I just didn't want him to have to be in a totally unfamiliar place while he waits to find out what is forever," he finishes, shrugging up his shoulders to swipe at his watery eyes. "How do you avoid getting attached?" he asks again.

She sighs, then takes the basket back and sets it on the floor. "Karen and I were wrecks when Nia went back to her mom."

"Really?"

"Really. And it was the right thing. Her mom was in a position to be able to take care of her again, and it was a really good thing for her. It just took us a while to accept that, because we loved Nia, too."

"Okay, so you're saying …"

"I'm saying you're going to get attached, Buck. You just are. And it might hurt, but it's also going to be beautiful. It's a really big thing you're doing. Providing home and care for a kid who needs it."

Buck nods and swallows against the tightness in his throat.

Hen steps forward and wraps him in a tight hug. "I'm so proud of you." She squeezes for a long moment, then steps back. "Once I'm done trying these on, you want to follow me home, and I'll give you those kid clothes?" 

—

"Hey, Buck. What brings you to my humble office?"

"Ahh … hey, Cap," Buck replies, trying to set the bar at Professional Work Conversation instead of brothers-in-law just chatting. "Got a minute?"

Chimney gestures to the chair near his desk, but Buck doesn't sit down — he's too keyed up for this conversation.

"So," Buck starts, clapping his hands together. "I'm, uh, going to need some time off."

Chimney smiles. Not one of his wry grins, but a real, true, open smile.

"Maddie told you?" Buck guesses.

"Maddie told me," he replies, nodding. "I've been dying, waiting for you to come talk to me. Congrats, man!" Chimney is up and out of his chair, rounding the corner of the desk before Buck realizes what's going on.

He's a little dazed as Chimney wraps his arms around him. They so rarely hug, and even less frequently with both arms; they're much more accustomed to the one-armed bro hug.

"I'm really happy for you," Chim says as he pulls away from the hug and returns to his seat. "I've been thinking about options. You can use your PTO, or there's always FMLA, depending on how much time you want to get him settled." He rifles through a folder in one of his drawers and produces an informational sheet on Family and Medical Leave, placing it on the desk facing Buck.

Finally, Buck lets himself sink into the chair. "Ha-hang on. This is — you're … okay with this?"

"Buck," Chim replies, voice a little stern. "I'm not just okay with this, I'm — proud of you."

"You don't think it's … a little impulsive?"

Chim chews his gum for a few beats before he replies, "I mean. It might be, but that doesn't mean I'm not still proud of you."

"I'm not being crazy? I'm not — not fooling myself, thinking I could be a good guardian? A-a role model? I mean, look at who I've got for examples," he says.

"Maddie had those same parents as examples and she's the world's best mom." He points at Buck like he's just said "gotcha."

Buck puts his palms out in front of himself in deference. "Sorry, sorry, that's not what I meant. I just … I don't know anything about being a good dad." Buck's eyes widen when he realizes what word just slipped out of his mouth. "Not that — I'm just, it's just fostering, I'm not trying to replace —"

"No, no, I know what you meant." Chim pauses, a discerning look on his face. "Buck … you had one of the best role models teach you how to be a good guardian to a kid in need."

"Maddie?"

"Her, too," Chim replies, the ever-familiar I love my wife smile creeping onto his face. "But I meant Bobby."

"Oh," Buck says.

It's not that he's been purposefully avoiding thinking about Bobby amidst all of this, but if he's honest with himself — maybe he was skirting the idea a bit in his mind. Ignoring the feelings it brings up. The fact that the most important father figure in his life won't be there to help guide him in fatherhood. Not that — Buck's not adopting Theo. He's not setting out to be anyone's dad.

But the point feels salient anyway.

Chimney sighs. "I wish that Bobby were here to say something captainly and inspiring to you."

Buck doesn't reply, just nods, his own face matching the half-frown-half-smile that Chimney's got.

"But can I try to say something to that end?"

Buck's smile grows into a full one. "Alright, hit me with it, Cap." He settles back into his chair, ready to receive the wisdom of his captain — his brother-in-law. His friend.

Chimney looks at him, takes a deep breath in and out through his nose. "Buck. No one is ever really ready to be a parent —" Buck raises a hand to interrupt, but Chimney continues. "Or a guardian —"

Buck lowers his hand back to his lap, satisfied with the correction. He nods for Chimney to go on.

"You can prep all you want, but you'll never predict all the changes that will come with taking care of a young person who you love."

Buck swallows, trying to tamp down the energy cropping up in his throat.

Chimney crosses his arms and leans back to take Buck in. "I won't lie to you. It's challenging."

"Yeah." He wrings his hands together in his lap.

"But when have you ever backed down from a challenge?"

"Oh," Buck says, like the word is punched out of him. It's true — Buck has a tendency to turn things into a competition and vie for first place — but it's not something that people usually point to as a positive. Chimney suggesting that it's a good thing here makes him feel — well. The tingle in his nose is the only heads-up Buck gets before there are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. "Thanks, Cap."

"Of course. Theo's a lucky kid. I mean — aside from the … his parents, and all." Chimney frowns.

Buck lets out a humorless chuckle in response. What a classic Chimney moment — something so beautiful followed by him sticking his foot right into his mouth. "Yeah."

"But, Buck, I mean it. Having you in his corner is going to mean a lot. It won't be easy, for either of you. But he's lucky to have you. That's what I meant."

"I know what you meant," Buck says. "And it means a lot. Thank you. For real."

"Course."

The logistics of his leave request are more complex than he expected — but Chimney helps him navigate it all. They land at him requesting a few weeks of PTO, to have at least a little bit of income at first, followed by a few of FMLA.

"Six weeks," Chimney says as he signs the final request. "How's that going to look for you and Theo?"

Buck bites his lip to contain the smile that tries to push itself out at the sound of him and Theo. "Not sure yet," he admits. "Theo's in daycare but … he's so young. I don't want to be working overnights and have to leave him with someone else all the time. Not at first, anyway."

"So, full-time stay-at-home parent for the time being?"

Buck shrugs. "For now. And, uh … you know. I want to make sure he settles in okay. Maybe do some fun things with him, take his mind off …" The lump rises in Buck's throat the way it always does when he thinks about Connor and Kameron's deaths. The unfairness of it all.

Chimney cuts in to Buck's melancholy. "What kind of fun things?" He's got his forearms on the desk now, leaning in.

Buck hasn't formally planned or organized anything, but the ideas are right there at the tip of his tongue. "Aquarium. Zoo. Maybe the tar pits or the observatory." It's all the places he took Chris, all the places he knows to take a little kid who is curious and interested. The source of some of his best memories over the years.

Buck imagines Theo dragging him along to see the giraffes. Carrying Theo on his shoulders when he gets too tired to walk. Glancing in his rearview mirror to see Theo sacked out in his car seat on the drive home, still sticky from cotton candy. What is that term that Maddie uses all the time? Core memories? Maybe he can help make some core memories for Theo.

"Classic family outings," Chimney says, lining up the stack of paperwork on his desk. "And we can always re-evaluate, put in a few more weeks for you, extend things if you end up needing more time."

"Thank you, Chimney. You're a lifesaver."

Chimney starts to reply, but is interrupted by a knock, followed swiftly by the door opening.

"Hey, Cap?"

"What's up, Diaz?"

Buck's spine stiffens. There's no way that Eddie heard what they were talking about, but the near-miss of being caught talking about Theo or the leave to get him settled in at home is chilling.

"The downstairs toilet is doing that honking thing again."

Chimney groans. The toilet — and the process of filing the maintenance ticket through the new LAFD portal — has been like 70% of Chimney's conversational topics in the past week. "I thought that guy fixed it last week?"

"Dunno, it's doing it again. Buck, you making dinner? I'm getting a little hungry."

Buck steels himself, putting his best neutral look on his face and turns around toward Eddie.

He's in the doorway, that little strand of hair that always seems to come loose present right in the middle of his forehead, a hand on his presumably empty stomach.

"Uhh …" Buck clears his throat. "Y-yeah. Be right there?" He tries for his most casual smile, reassuring, friendly, neutral. He just hopes Eddie's distracted enough by hunger not to ask about this confab in Chim's office, not to notice the way he's sweating through this interaction like he's keeping a secret.

Which — well. He is, except — it's not a secret, really, just something he hasn't talked to Eddie about yet. And he will! He just hasn't. So it's not a secret.

"All right. You good?" Eddie asks.

"Mm-hmm!" Buck nods, lips tight.

Eddie's eyes narrow. So much for him not noticing Buck's … weirdness.

A plan comes to him in that instant, though: he will make the world's best and most distracting stir fry. "Will you get the rice cooker going for me? Four cups of rice?"

Eddie stares at him for another second, before agreeing. "Okay," he says, rapping his knuckles against the doorjamb before he retreats to the kitchen.

Buck turns around and sinks into his seat, letting out a whoosh of air in relief as he does.

"You've got to be kidding me. You still haven't told Eddie?" Chimney's expression is so unnenthused, you'd think that Buck just told him he's been causing the toilet to honk on purpose.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Buck sits back up, frowning.

"It means I thought Maddie telling you to talk to your best friend about this —"

"Hey, maybe you're my best friend."

"Hen is my best friend."

Buck whines a wordless response.

"Buck."

"Chimney."

"You cannot ruin this for me, Buckley," Chim says.

Which — is not what Buck's expecting him to say. He cocks his head in confusion.

"I have been doing an amazing job holding on to this secret for you —"

"It's not a secret," Buck interrupts.

"It's a thing that you've only told Maddie — so, me too, by extension — that is the definition of a secret."

Buck folds his arms in front of himself. He doesn't bother mentioning that he's talked with Hen about it too.

Chimney softens. "Look. I don't want to be the one to inadvertently spill the beans when next month's schedule has an alternate listed in your spot."

Buck nods, pursing his lips in reluctant agreement. That makes some sense. "Fine."

"Tell him."

"Yeah." Buck stands up, brushes his sweaty palms against his thighs as if to brush off the nerves zinging through his body at the prospect. "Yeah, you're right. I, um, I will."

He walks out of the office with his shoulders back, head held high, projecting confidence. Eddie is in the kitchen, rinsing the rice, and Buck is absolutely going to go talk to him — as soon as he reties his shoelaces.

He bends down to pull the bows tight on both of his shoes, picks at a scuff on one of the toes, then straightens back up, stretches, looks back over at the kitchen — time to head over —

And the tones go off.

Oh, thank god, Buck thinks as he lunges for the fire pole. No stir fry is as distracting as an actual emergency.

 —

Buck has had nervous energy jittering through his bones for days. He thought that talking to Chimney would help defuse some of it, but Chim's last words to him have wound him up even tighter.

He has to tell Eddie. He's going to tell Eddie. He should just pull him aside when they get back to the station. Did Eddie have time to get the rice on before the bell went? Maybe he'll help Buck chop the stir fry veggies. Telling him the plan while they stand side by side, focusing on slicing carrots and cabbage, sounds doable.

It'll be fine. No big deal.

Except it's a really fucking big deal, and Buck is trapped in the rig between Harry and Ravi, trying not to annoy them with his bouncing knees. They're on the way back from a call that involved getting out of the truck only long enough to confirm a false alarm. Buck was counting on getting to climb something or run somewhere or heft heavy equipment. Anything to get him out of his own head about Theo.

His brain skips from HR paperwork to all of the sharp objects in his house to Eddie. Fuck. He has to tell Eddie.

"You're quiet."

Buck jumps, pulling against his seatbelt, and for a second he's sure it's Eddie making this observation, but Eddie is riding in the ambulance.

Ravi was the one who spoke. His arms are crossed, and he's leaning back, side-eyeing Buck. If it had been Eddie, it would have been half-teasing, half-concerned. From Ravi, it's suspicious.

"Yeah, what are you plotting over there?" Harry joins in, picking up on the vibe.

"Nothing," Buck says reflexively, defensively.

Then he thinks — he could just tell them. They're going to find out soon anyway. Might be nice to practice saying it casually. Warm him up to have the same conversation with Eddie.

"Actually," Buck says, "I want to tell you guys something."

They're both turned to look at him now, pinning him down from either side.

"Remember — uh, remember Theo?"

"Your literal son?" Harry says, incredulous. "How could we forget?"

"My biological son," Buck corrects. "I mean, I'm not his, his actual parent, or whatever."

"Hmm, no, I think you are," Harry says. "By definition."

"The point is," Buck says a little louder, "I'm going to foster him."

It's loud in the rig, but Harry and Ravi aren't saying anything, just staring at him. Buck's heart is beating in his throat and temples.

"Theo, I mean," he says, then hurries to add, "and, and, I'm going to take some time off to just — be there for him. Get him settled."

"Good for you, man," Ravi says, nodding.

"Yeah, uh, congratulations," Harry says. "If that's the right … thing to say?"

Buck exhales. "Thanks, guys." He's ready to answer their questions, go over his plan, how he made the decision.

"I always forget that you're like — old," Harry says. "Just us two cool young guys without kids now." He reaches across Buck to slap Ravi with the back of his hand.

"Don't say it like that," Ravi replies.

"Oh! Does this mean Max is coming back?" Harry asks.

"Sam," Ravi corrects.

"Oh, right. Hey, Cap," Harry says over the headset. Chimney turns around from the front seat. "Are we getting Sam back? While Buck is away?"

"I think we could do better, as far as floaters go," Ravi says.

"Hey, wait," Buck says. He isn't done talking about this!

"I don't want Sam back at our firehouse any more than you do," Chimney replies.

Buck tries to get a word in edgewise — to bring the focus back to the huge life-changing news he's just shared — but Ravi and Harry immediately start talking over him in a heated debate about who Chimney should poach from B-shift.

He wrinkles his nose, trying to tamp down on the annoyance he's feeling. He's gotta remember that the cool young guys are in a totally different phase of their life than Buck.

Chimney catches his eyes over the seat and smiles at him. It's his genuine, friendly smile, the one he gave Buck back in his office when he shared the news. And it would almost feel reassuring if Chimney didn't follow it up by mouthing, "Now Eddie."

Buck sighs and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes to block them all out. Not that long ago, Eddie would be sitting in the engine next to him, just a part of the conversation. Chimney would be in the ambulance with Hen. And Bobby would be sitting up front …

God. That's who he really wishes he could talk to. He'd give anything to be able to sidle up next to him in the station kitchen, and hear what he thinks about Buck's decision.

He can't talk to Bobby, but there is one person he can go to. Someone who might be able to guess what Bobby would have thought.

 —

"Cappuccino, extra hot, skim milk," Buck says, gesturing grandly at the cup on Athena's desk. "Large," he adds.

"Okay," she says, crossing her arms. "So let me get this straight. No one is in mortal peril?"

He shrinks into her hard plastic visitor seat. "Uh, no."

"You were just 'in the neighborhood' —" uh-oh, scare quotes "— and decided to bring me a coffee at work."

"… yes."

"And you know my coffee order how?"

"Bobby," Buck says simply.

Her face softens. "Hmm." She takes a sip and examines his face. "While you were in the neighborhood, was there something you wanted to talk to me about?"

The noisy buzz of the bullpen kicks up a notch. Buck looks around, then tries to speak over it. "Actually, I just had a question for you."

She sighs, looks at her watch, then jerks her head at the hallway. "I can take a quick break. Let's go somewhere quiet."

She leads him into a meeting room with a table and two chairs, and closes the door. Athena doesn't sit, which tells Buck everything he needs to know about how long she's giving him. The sudden quiet makes him feel twitchy.

"Sorry for interrupting your work day," he says belatedly.

She waves this away. "What did you want to ask?"

"Well …" He leans against the table for a second, then hops back up when it wobbles dangerously. "I'm going to foster Theo." The words come easier this time. He's made the commitment, rearranged his work schedule. It isn't just an idea anymore. It's happening for sure. "Oh! Theo's the — he's my — did Bobby ever tell you about how I donated my —"

"I know who Theo is, Buck," Athena says. Then — nothing. She's watching him carefully between sips of cappuccino.

He takes a deep breath to reset. "And, you know, something on my mind is — what it's like, being a first responder in a dangerous job when there's a kid at home depending on you. I know that's something you have experience in." He scratches his temple and takes another breath. "And, oh, hey. What, uh. What — how was that for Bobby?"

She sets her cup down on the table. "Ah."

"Ah?"

"Okay, Buck." She nods, like she's figured him out. "You know, and I know, you don't really want to know what I think. You want to know what Bobby would think."

He feels the blood rush to his face and looks down at his feet. The funny thing is, Bobby would have seen through him, too. "Well … yeah."

She sighs. "I can't speak for him, Buck. I'm not him."

But you knew him better than anyone, he thinks. He makes himself look back up at her. She looks — sorry.

"Okay," he says.

There's a tap on the meeting room door, and Buck sees another detective peering in. Athena holds up a finger.

Buck's chest deflates. He should have known better than to try to ply Athena with bribe-coffee and such a transparent question.

"Bobby —" she starts, but pauses with a thoughtful look on her face. "I know that Bobby was so proud of you, Buck."

It's — he knows this. But hearing her say it, having the person who knew Bobby most intimately affirm it, is exactly what he needs right now.

"You know, Bobby didn't talk much about Brooke and Junior, but he did talk about you."

"Me?" He's not sure why it's so shocking to hear, but for some reason, it is. The fact that he's — significant enough, maybe, important enough, that someone would talk about him when he's not there. That Bobby would talk about him.

"I know you called him Pops to be funny, but to him —" She nods her head. "That he got the chance to have that relationship with you? It meant the world to him."

"It — wasn't some big joke," is all he can say in response to that. Too overwhelmed by the rest of what she said.

"I know. And he knew, too."

Buck shuffles on his feet.

"We can't know what Bobby would have thought about you fostering, but I think he would have been excited for you to go to him for advice. And I'm sorry you can't."

"M-me too," he says sullenly.

"But he put together that team of yours on purpose, didn't he?"

"Huh?"

"He knew you could lean on each other. All of you. Even without him there."

Buck exhales. "Yeah."

She moves toward the door and reaches to turn the handle. "You don't need my advice or validation, Buck. You're surrounded by other parents who you could've talked to about this."

I did, he thinks. All of them except —

"Hell, you're best friends with a single dad," she points out. "I'm sure Eddie has lots to say about this." She holds up her cup. "Thanks for the coffee." And then she's walking down the hallway quickly enough that Buck doesn't even try to follow her.

—

"Buck?" The front door creaks open and Eddie pokes his head in. "You good, man?"

"In here," Buck calls from the kitchen.

Buck knew Eddie was coming. Actually called him forty-five minutes ago and asked him to come. But the instinct to cover what's on his kitchen table still almost pulls him under. Instead, he stays where he is — which is elbow-deep in the big box of child-proofing gear he got delivered early this morning.

Eddie reaches the kitchen and pulls up short, taking in the scene. "Whatcha got there?" he asks.

"Um." Buck clears his throat. "I ordered all this child-proofing stuff. Last night. Couldn't sleep, just filled up the cart, and. Well, you have some experience with this stuff. Can you … help me?"

He starts pulling out the three types of cupboard locks he ended up with, the packs of outlet covers, the same brand of fancy baby monitor that Maddie has — and all the other assorted things he purchased. He lays it all out on the table, keeping his back turned to Eddie so he doesn't have to watch his face. Finally, the box is empty, the table is full, and Eddie has been suspiciously quiet this whole time. Buck slowly turns to him.

Eddie's face is stalled, mouth slightly open, eyebrows level, eyes wide. "Child-proofing stuff," he says slowly.

Buck can tell that his shoulders are up to his ears. He makes himself swallow before he says the next part. "For when Theo comes."

"Theo," Eddie says, still careful. "You're fostering him?"

"Yeah. I — yeah. His current placement is just temporary. They can't —" his voice cracks "— keep him. So I said I could take him. That I wanted to." There. Buck closes his mouth. He forces himself to keep his eyes up, to wait for Eddie's reaction.

The worst, Buck thinks, would be if Eddie were to act concerned. Are you sure you're up for this, Buck?

He waits, holding his breath, but Eddie is — nodding. The careful way he was holding himself still is gone. He smiles, and Buck exhales in relief, feels the tension ease in his chest and shoulders.

"That makes sense," Eddie says, coming over and picking up one of the packages of outlet covers. "Let's start by getting these up."

Since Buck bought fancy outlet covers that require actually removing the wall plate, the act of installing them is a little bit tedious.

But it's Eddie, and BuckandEddie know how to do a task, so they find their rhythm after the first couple of outlets. Once the practical conversation — the "move the furniture together, and then you unplug the cords, and I'll get the screw out, and you hold the plate up while I put it back together" — dies down, Eddie clears his throat.

"So —" Eddie begins, and Buck really tries not to brace himself for whatever the next thing out of Eddie's mouth is and fails. "Were they not able to locate his next of kin?" he asks.

"Oh, uh, no, they were — but, it's like. Connor's grandma, who's in memory care, and, uh, Kameron's brother's wife just had triplets, in Connecticut? So —" Buck shrugs, then takes the screw from Eddie as he removes another wall plate. "Connor was an only child, Kameron's parents are taking care of her grandparents." Buck holds the outlet cover up against the wall and passes the screw back to Eddie to secure it. "No one, uh, seems to have space for a four-year-old right now."

"Makes sense." Eddie nods as he finishes screwing it into place. He groans as he sits up, knees cracking as he shuffles along the wall to find the next outlet. "But … did you get a sense of if that's … just right now?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like. Will someone from their family eventually be able to take him in?"

Buck pauses and tilts his head at Eddie, not really sure where he's going with the line of questioning.

"I just mean —" Eddie walks back across the room to Buck. "I know you've thought this through. So I'm just curious … what happens after."

Buck nods. "I don't know," he says. "Maybe something will change with his family, and someone will want to take him. Or." He shrugs. "Or he goes up for adoption through the state."

Eddie stands in front of him, trying to catch his eyes now. "So you don't know how long he'll be here?"

"Nope. Out of my hands."

"That sounds hard."

"Y-yeah. But. I think I'm … up for it? I want to make it work for him."

Eddie nods. "I think you're going to do a great job. I mean — you already are. When I was finally taking care of Chris full-time, I had no idea that you had to do this kind of stuff to your house. It was the furthest thing from my mind."

Buck chuckles into his shoulder to hide the blush that's almost certainly coloring his face. He may have gone a little overboard with the three-figure next-day delivery order, but all of it feels necessary. "I know he's still going to climb everything and get into anything that's not tied down —"

"Hah, that's for sure."

"But hopefully some of this stuff will at least slow him down enough that I can be there before anything gets too dangerous."

"Makes sense." Eddie smiles again.

Later, after the rest of the high-priority items are installed — bookshelf anchors and magnetic cabinet locks and oven knob protectors, namely — Buck pours them each a glass of water from the Brita pitcher in the fridge and meets Eddie on the patio.

He's missed this — sitting in comfortable silence with Eddie. His mind has been so full with preparing for Theo's arrival — purchasing toys and getting hand-me-down clothes bins and now all the safety equipment — that he hasn't had a lot of room to do this. To relax with his best friend. Turns out putting off telling Eddie about something important means all the day-to-day details sort of fall to the wayside in favor of clamming up and being avoidant.

"All this stuff," Eddie sweeps a hand across the backyard. "Do you think you'll want to do this again? With another kid?"

This pulls Buck up short. He surveys the space. A kiddie soccer goal set up amidst his weight lifting gear, a toy bin in the corner next to the newly childproofed hot tub.

"Like … fostering?"

Eddie takes a sip of water from his glass. "Sure, fostering. Or having your own. Another kid here. Is it just about Theo? Or …" He takes another sip instead of finishing the thought.

Of course it's not just about Theo sits on the tip of Buck's tongue, but he realizes before he says it that it might not be true. "I've … always thought I wanted a big family," he says instead. "I love kids, y'know?"

Eddie nods his head minutely, a small smile on his face. "Yeah, I know."

"Right. So — like, I definitely want kids. Or at least — a kid. I don't know how many. I never thought that far." Over the years, Buck has done some of his best processing aloud. Makes sense that Eddie would prompt him to do the same about this. "But I never — I guess … I never thought about how I'd have a kid. Feels like people around me just — they just have kids all of a sudden."

"Don't I know it." Eddie chuckles.

"Not —" Buck rolls his eyes. "That's not what I meant. I just — I thought it'd sort of just … happen."

Eddie gestures to the yard again. "Kind of seems like it is just happening."

Buck sits in stunned silence for a moment. "It … I'm making this happen, though. I thought about it a lot." Buck can feel himself getting heated at the implication that he's doing this on a whim, that it's just another impulsive decision. "It's not — he's not just — it's not —"

Eddie sets his glass down and places his hand on Buck's shoulder, putting a stop to his stuttering reply. "Buck. That wasn't a criticism, or whatever you're thinking I meant." He squeezes once and drops his hand back to his lap. "Life is funny. It has a way of making things like this happen."

Buck nods. "S-sure. Yeah."

"I'm not saying Connor and Kameron were destined to — for tragedy. I just meant that maybe you came back into their lives at the exact right time so that you could be there for a kid who needed you."

His shoulders relax. "I — I get that, I guess."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Buck furrows his brows in confusion.

"You were there for Chris and me at exactly the right moment. Moments."

"Oh." Buck feels the back of his neck heat up, looks down at his hands. "I'm glad. That I could be. That I was."

"Me, too," Eddie says softly.

Buck lets his mind wander back to a younger Chris kicking around the loft. He was old enough when Buck met him that he didn't really worry about child-proofing …

"Oh, fuck," Buck says. "Chris."

"What?" Eddie turns his head sharply to meet his eyes.

"Eddie, all this stuff —" Buck sweeps his hands around to encompass all the safety gear they've installed over the past couple hours, inside and out "— did I Chris-proof my house?" What if Chris needs to plug in a charger, or wants to bake cookies, or needs to get past the baby gate into the laundry room? There's gotta be a way to balance Theo safety and Chris access. Right? "I don't want him to feel locked out of stuff in my house!"

Eddie relaxes next to him and laughs a little. "God, Buck. You're —" He shakes his head and presses his lips together in a smile instead of finishing his thought. "It'll be fine. Chris will ask for help if he needs it. He'll understand about safety for Hurricane Theo right now."

Buck blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. No, yeah, you're right. It's just — I've been thinking about fostering Theo for a while. You'd think this would have occurred to me earlier."

It's golden hour. The heat has mellowed, the crickets are loud. If he looks over at Eddie, slightly sweaty from all the work they've done, he doesn't know what his face will do.

"So." Eddie stretches his long legs out to reach a kid-sized soccer ball in the grass, and starts rolling it under his foot. "You've been thinking about it for a while, huh?"

Buck stiffens. "Uh —"

"How come you waited so long to talk to me about it?"

Buck takes a sip of his water glass, just for the few moments it gives him before he has to answer. He could come up with some half-assed excuse, or brush it off, or lie and say that actually, Eddie is the first person he's talked to about all of this — but Eddie would see right through any of those options.

So he's left with the scariest option of them all: telling the truth.

"I … have been trying to work up the courage to tell you about it for weeks."

"Weeks, huh?" Eddie repeats, clearly surprised, but with no traces of anger or upset in his tone.

"Eddie, I —" Buck wrinkles his nose. "Your opinion is like — the most important one. I couldn't … if you disapproved, or thought it was a bad idea, I knew I'd talk myself out of it. And Theo — he needs me."

Buck glances at Eddie. His expression is unreadable, and maintaining eye contact is making Buck's heart race.

"I don't think it's a bad idea. I wouldn't have." Eddie breaks away for another sip of water. "I'm … kind of sad you thought I'd try to convince you not to," he says down into his glass.

Buck's stomach falls. "No, fuck, Eddie, no, that's not what I meant."

Eddie is quiet, giving him time to articulate what he does mean. Buck hooks his ankle to steal the soccer ball and kicks it from foot to foot.

"I don't always trust myself," he settles on at last. "To make the right decision. I knew everything in me wanted to step up for Theo. I've known for a —" he glances at Eddie, who is holding still and watching him "— for a while. But I didn't know if it was a good thing to do, or a stupid idea, or what. And you … you always see me so clearly. I think I had to make up my own mind before I talked to you about it. Just … to know. In myself. That it was my decision, either way."

Eddie leans forward and scoops the ball up, tossing it right into the kiddie soccer net. Then he angles himself back towards Buck.

"I get that," he says. "I really do. Remember when I moved to Texas?"

"Hmm, not really," Buck quips. "Guess it didn't have a big impact on me or anything."

"Okay," Eddie says, holding his hands up. "Easy. I'm just saying, what you just said … I think that's why I made the decision without talking to you. I had to make it. I had to own it."

Buck feels the wash of embarrassment about how he acted in the wake of that decision, but Eddie keeps talking.

"And you stepped up. You made it easier for me to do what I needed to do. And then when I was ready to give up and come back to LA, you told me I needed to stay." He looks down at his clasped hands as he squeezes his fingers together. His nervous tell. "I've always trusted that you'll come to me on your own time, when you need me." He looks up at Buck, turns on the full intensity of his attention. "But I don't want to wait anymore."

Buck feels the breath catch in his chest. "Okay." He bumps Eddie's knee with his. "Uh, what do you mean?"

"I mean — maybe we can both be better at coming to each other sooner." He bumps back. "You can trust me with a half-baked idea. If something is important to you, it's important to me, too."

"Oh," Buck says. It's rare for them to be this earnest with each other, but it feels good. And — possible. Easy, in the sinking sunshine, with Eddie's knee still lightly touching his. "That's how I feel, too. About you."

"Hmm," Eddie acknowledges.

Buck feels tired but light. And hungry. "You want to order some food?"

Eddie is already grabbing his phone from where it's lying on the deck behind them. "Man, I could kill for a shawarma."

"Yeah, let's do it. Hey, when do you have to pick Christopher up?"

Eddie checks his watch, an endearing old-man habit, given that he's literally holding a screen with the time on it. "In about an hour."

"Why don't you text him to see if he wants something? We can pick the food up on the way to get him." Belatedly, Buck realizes that he's assuming a lot about Eddie and Chris's evening plans, and his place in them. "Uh, if that makes sense?"

"Good idea," Eddie says, switching to the messaging app to text Chris. "I'm getting extra pickled turnips."

"Of course," Buck says. He stands up, brushing grass from his legs. He looks down at Eddie scrolling through the menu, hair sticking up, shoulders tanned dark in a way that means they were sunburnt not too long ago. This is easy. He can do this. "You know," he says, "I'm really going to miss this."

Eddie looks up at him. "Miss what?"

"This." He gestures between them. "Us, hanging out casually. I just know a lot can change when a kid comes into the picture. Harder to make plans, or, or hang out on a whim."

Eddie stands up to meet him, hands him his phone to add to the order. "Buck." He raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? We're still going to have this."

"You think?"

"No matter what changes in your life, or mine, I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Eddie says, and his fond incredulity is so reassuring. "Besides, who else is going to put me to work all day and make me buy dinner?"

"W-wait, I can get dinner!" Buck sputters.

"Nah, I've got it. But you're driving."

 —

"I GOT A BLUE SHELL!" Theo screams at the top of his lungs.

"Inside voice, Theo," Buck calls from the kitchen, where he's muddling hibiscus and ginger for the latest on his list of bougie mocktail recipes.

"Nice try, dude," Chris says as he presumably maintains his lead.

"AW, COME ON!" Theo yells again.

Buck is about to stick his head out into the living room, but Eddie gets there first. He hands Buck two clean glasses from the dishwasher, then strolls out to where Theo and Chris are playing Mario Kart 8.

"Theo, my man," Eddie says calmly. "Volume down or the game goes away."

There's quiet grumbling, almost overpowered by the game music. Then — "Okay."

Buck shakes the mocktail mix with some ice, then strains it in the glasses and brings one over to Eddie, who is leaning against the wall watching the game. He takes the drink and only purses his lips a tiny bit after the first sip.

"Oh, come on," Buck says. "This one is actually pretty good."

"Sour," Eddie remarks. Then he nods at the couch, where Chris is leaning back, having already finished the course. Theo is standing about half a foot from the TV, fiercely gripping his controller, tongue sticking out, brow furrowed.

The round ends, and Theo turns around to look at Chris, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Buck puts his glass down. He recognizes this expression. This is Theo's tipping point. He needs someone to help him step away from the game and his frustration ASAP, or there will be tears (or thrown controllers). But Buck only takes a couple steps before Chris speaks up.

"Tenth place! Theo, are you kidding me? That's so much better."

Theo's shoulders drop, and his face smooths out. "Really?"

"You're getting really good," Chris confirms, holding up a hand for a high five. Then he looks over his shoulder at Buck and Eddie. "One more race?"

Buck makes eye contact with Eddie, who just crinkles his eyes at him over the edge of his glass.

"Yeah, okay," Buck says to the kids. "One more game, then it's Theo's bedtime."

Chris advances them to the next race in the Cup. The intro to Rainbow Road plays, and Buck turns his head to meet Eddie's horrified look with one of his own.

Toad — Theo — plummets off the side of the course as soon as the race begins.

"AGH!"

"Uh, it's okay, Theo!" Chris drives Yoshi off the edge too. "Oh, dang it! See, this is a hard race," he tries to placate, doing a not-terrible job at pretending to be bad at racing.

Theo drives off the course again, and Buck takes a step toward the TV. If he just unplugs it, maybe he can pretend there's a power outage, and then maybe Theo won't have a complete and total meltdown.

Chris follows suit, driving off again and acting like it was an accident.

Buck pauses to see whether Chris can pull this off.

Eddie laughs, just an air puff of a chuckle.

"What?" Buck zeroes in on Eddie, who's got a fond smile and a soft look in his eyes.

"Nothing, just. Our boys." Eddie smiles. "Chris is so good with him."

It's true. Buck's been thinking it all night. All through dinner and its many interruptions — mostly Theo running to his room and back to show off toys and drawings and the little bit of hair that Buck has no idea when he cut off nor where he's been hiding it — and into the evening. Chris is so kind, and patient, and thoughtful, and it all seems to come to him so easily. The compliments he pays Theo feel genuine, the interest he shows authentic, and the occasional gentle redirection surprisingly well-received.

Buck turns to look at the two of them just in time to see Theo throw his Switch controller from his hand. Eddie made him tighten the wrist strap before playing, though, so it just dangles from his arm as he starts wailing.

"Oh, buddy, I think it might be time to say good night to Toad, don't you?" Buck swoops in and picks Theo up. He keeps sobbing wetly, but the second Buck tightens his arms around him and gets him settled at the right height, Theo drops his chin onto his shoulder and curls in. This kid is tired.

Buck looks back over his shoulder once as Eddie gently eases the controller strap from Theo's wrist, then he beelines for the bathroom. It's Mission: Bedtime, no time for pleasantries. Eddie will get it. Buck is sure he and Chris will head off while he tucks Theo in.

He sits a sniffling Theo on the edge of the tub and hands him his Spider-man toothbrush loaded with Berry Bubble toothpaste. While Theo swishes the brush around his mouth, Buck uses a warm washcloth to degunk his snotty nose.

Theo is noticeably drooping by the time Buck herds him into his room and pulls his pj shirt on over his head. They do a quick version of their prebed routine ("favorite thing that happened today — go!" and a pinkie promise that they'll see each other in the morning, because Theo is going through a pinkie promise phase that Buck is all too happy to oblige), and Buck makes it through four pages of Click, Clack, Moo! before Theo conks out. This might be a record for world's fastest bedtime.

Over the past weeks, Buck has learned that while Theo is in constant motion while he's awake, he falls asleep like he's hitting a wall. Buck pulls the blanket up to Theo's chin and brushes his hair out of his face. Then he turns on the sound machine and flicks off the overhead light as he tiptoes out into the hall, expecting to find a quiet house and a kitchen to clean up, except —

"Wow, he knocked out fast, huh?"

Buck actually jumps a little. Eddie is standing right there, drying his hands on a dish towel. When Buck looks past him, he sees Chris curled up on the couch, hunched over his phone.

"Uh, hey, you two!"

Chris grunts an acknowledgment, and Eddie rolls his eyes, hanging up the dish towel in its spot on the oven.

"Thought you guys might head home?" Buck continues, mostly to Eddie this time as he continues into the kitchen.

Eddie leans back against the counter, now empty of dishes. "Nah, figured I could save you some headache and get stuff put away."

It's so … domestic, Eddie standing there, having finished a chore that Buck was silently dreading. Eating leftovers is one of his favorite things. But putting the leftovers away? Atrocious.

Buck presses a hand over his heart, and it comes out a little like a joke, but he's completely earnest when he says, "Wow, thank you so much."

"No problem," Eddie replies. Then he looks over at Chris before saying, "Hey, come outside with me for a minute."

"Why?" Buck asks, but his body is already moving. He reflexively opens the fridge to grab them some beers before remembering that he doesn't have beer in his house right now.

Eddie clears his throat and holds up two steaming mugs of tea, then points his head out towards the back deck.

"Thanks," Buck says, accepting his mug and following him outside.

"Give it another minute or so to steep," Eddie says, setting his mug down on the patio table. He stays standing, crosses his arms and looks out over the backyard. It's almost dark out, and the scattering of solar lights that Buck stuck in his garden beds are starting to glow.

Buck takes a moment to breathe in the tea. Chamomile and the sweet scent of honey fill his nostrils. It's exactly what he needs after such a high-octane evening — dinner on its own was a lot, and then Mario Kart got everyone's adrenaline rushing.

"Thanks, Ed," Buck says again, trying to convey his gratitude beyond just this almost-too-full mug of tea as he sets it down next to Eddie's cup. He's thankful for — everything. For all the moments Eddie's been there for Buck and Theo, big and small. For tonight, putting away food and finishing the dishes and sticking around, maybe because he sensed that Buck wasn't quite ready for the night to be over, either.

"Course," Eddie replies, his expression soft.

Buck exhales, really exhales. Lets himself lean back against a pillar, his head gently falling back against it, stretching his arms out in front of himself. "God, I'm tired," he says. He really gets it now, why parents are always complaining about being exhausted.

"Yeah," Eddie says. "I bet." He picks up his mug and takes a sip of his tea. "Happy, though. Right?"

Buck rolls his head to look over at him. Thinks about the way his time with Theo has settled into a good, predictable routine for both of them. Lots of moments of uncertainty and fear and worry every day still — but the bones are there. And even though Buck can see how sad Theo is at times, how much he misses his parents — Buck is learning how to support him through it all. How to let him just be a kid and have fun. How to hold him when he wakes up crying. It's everything all the time, but … it's good. He thinks he's doing an okay job. Getting better every day, more confident.

"Yeah," he finally answers. "I think so."

Eddie hums. They drink their tea as the sky darkens. Buck feels so at ease in this moment, but he's already a little sad, anticipating the moment when Eddie will carry their cups back into the kitchen and drive himself and Chris home.

As if picking up on Buck's melancholy, Eddie reaches out a hand and grasps his shoulder. "Hey. I told you, huh? That we'd still have moments like these. All of us." He nods back inside, meaning the kids. "And you and me."

Buck's breath gets caught on a sharp inhale. It's been about a month since Eddie came over to Theo-proof the house, and while he's probably been over a dozen times to continue the job — and to fix the things that Theo tore right through — this is the first real moment of solitude the two of them have had since then.

"Y-yeah," Buck says, sighing contentedly into his mug and taking another sip of the dredges of the tea. It's overly sweet from the honey that didn't quite get stirred in, which Buck secretly loves.

He feels at peace. It's just a moment, he knows. One moment of feeling like — Theo is safe in bed. Chris is making himself at home in Buck's house. And Eddie is right next to him, easy, happy.

Eddie's hand squeezes a little tighter on his shoulder and Buck looks over. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he keeps looking over at Buck, then looking away quickly. He's nervous, Buck realizes, and the feeling of peace dissolves a little.

"Eddie? You good?"

"I've been thinking about something."

"What?" Buck leans into Eddie's hand a little, as if to throw him off balance. "Big life change coming up?" Even as he jokes, he feels the flutter of nerves in his stomach.

Eddie stands firm. "No, nothing like that. I just wanted to say — you know, when Christopher was younger, I really didn't know what I was doing. I was scared all the time. Scared of messing up my kid, not doing right by him. Scared of being alone."

Buck watches the furrow of Eddie's eyebrows and waits, listens.

"But I really wasn't alone. Not for long."

"Bobby," Buck supplies. "The 118."

Eddie pulls back a little in surprise. "No. I mean, yes, of course. But I'm talking about you, Buck."

"Me?"

"Yeah, man, you kind of were my partner."

"Okay …" Buck says slowly. "But not. Not like that."

Buck expects him to agree, or roll his eyes, or say something incredibly deep, who knows, but instead Eddie tilts his head from side to side as if to gently disagree. "Well," he says, like it's a full sentence.

"Well?" Buck puts his mug down, turns to face Eddie.

"You were there for so many moments. With me and Chris. Big stuff, little stuff."

"Natural disasters," Buck says, even though he doesn't really see where this is going.

"Family dinners," Eddie counters. "School pick-ups. Weekend trips."

"The don't-be-a-dirtbag dating talk."

Eddie smiles ruefully. "Like I said. Lots of moments." He moves his hand up from Buck's shoulder to just below his neck, pulls him in just a little. "I've been thinking …"

"What?"

"I want to be there for all the moments. With you and Theo."

"You have been!" Buck is quick to affirm. Every step of the way — right from the moment Buck finally let him in — Eddie's been there.

"Right," Eddie says, his smile growing. "But I mean — I want to be your partner."

"Sure, but —"

"And I think that could look however we want it to."

Buck stills, takes in the moment. He's suddenly aware just how close they are, that Eddie is the one who made it that way. It's like the air around them is suddenly boiling, except it wasn't out of nowhere — it's been simmering this whole time. Building.

Buck becomes hyper aware of the hand on his neck, the gentle brush of Eddie's thumb against his skin. He swallows. "And — how do … uh, we want that to look?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Buck," he says, exasperated and fond in such a familiar way.

And then Buck feels Eddie drawing him in, tugging him down just a little to — oh. To bring their mouths together.

Eddie's lips are soft, just the perfect amount of moisturized from the chapstick habit he's picked up in recent weeks. Buck sets his hand on Eddie's thigh to lean against for better leverage and pushes back with equal pressure.

Kissing — kissing Eddie — feels both completely unbelievable and wholly inevitable. He pulls back from Eddie's mouth for a breath, tasting chamomile, and says, "I think I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."

One of Eddie's hands is in Buck's hair, and the other one is somehow still holding his almost empty mug. Buck takes it from him and ceremoniously places it next to his own on the patio table.

Eddie is flushed and smiling big as he pulls Buck back in. "Let's keep doing it, then," he suggests.

And then — they're kissing again. Hands on each other, their tongues in each other's mouths.

Things are just starting to cross the line into not-quite-appropriate-for-the-back-yard when a noise inside the house startles them apart.

"Oh, god —" Buck turns around to peer in the sliding glass door, but the light is off in the kitchen and he can't see any movement. "Was that —?"

"Hey." Eddie tugs Buck back to look at him. "Pretty sure Christopher just stole another one of your disgusting stevia sodas from the fridge."

His confidence is reassuring, but — shit. "Christopher —"

"Is fine." Eddie tugs Buck back to look at him. "Will be fine, Buck. With this."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Eddie says. "It's going to be great. Don't you think? It's us."

The warmth of it bubbles up in Buck's chest until it overflows. "Us," he repeats, half laughing. "Us."

"You, me, Chris and Theo," Eddie says, and he offers his pinkie finger. "Promise."

Buck locks his finger into Eddie's, and leans forward and twists his wrist to kiss their interlocked pinkies. It's very solemn and very silly — the perfect way to launch the next big life change in a season of them.

Eddie smiles at him, then changes his grip to hold Buck's hand. "Come on. You want to go see what that noise was, don't you?"

"Oh, thank god," Buck says, already moving toward the sliding door. "Let's go check."