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The handcuffs were pink.
That was the first thing Buck noticed about them.
Not the screaming woman in the rhinestone cowboy boots standing barefoot in the middle of her living room. Not the shirtless man attempting to climb out of a bathroom window that was significantly narrower than his shoulders. Not even the inflatable flamingo wedged upside down in the ceiling fan, its plastic wings slapping rhythmically against the light fixture every time the blades managed another strained rotation.
The handcuffs were bright, glittery pink, lined with synthetic fur, and dangling from one of the bedposts.
Buck stared at them.
Then he looked at Eddie.
Eddie looked back at him.
“No,” Eddie said immediately.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Across the room, Chimney coughed into his fist in a way that sounded suspiciously like laughter.
The woman in the cowboy boots jabbed one furious finger towards the bathroom. “He locked me out!”
“I did not lock you out!” the man shouted, still struggling halfway through the window. “You threw my clothes off the balcony!”
“Because you brought another woman into my apartment!”
“She’s my cousin!”
“Your cousin was wearing my robe!”
“She spilled wine on herself!”
Hen walked past Buck carrying the medical bag, her expression perfectly composed. “You know, there are several separate issues happening here, and somehow none of them are the reason we were called.”
“The reason you were called,” the woman said, “is because he swallowed the key.”
Everyone stopped.
Bobby, who had been speaking quietly with one of the police officers near the front door, turned his head.
Buck blinked. “The key to what?”
The woman pointed at the pink handcuffs.
The shirtless man stopped wriggling.
“I did not swallow it,” he said with wounded dignity.
“You put it in your mouth to stop me taking it.”
“And then you hit me with a throw pillow!”
“It was decorative!”
“It had sequins!”
Chimney closed his eyes. “Oh, this is already the best call of the month.”
The man finally gave up trying to fit through the window and pulled himself backwards into the bathroom, landing with a crash that rattled the mirror. A moment later, he emerged rubbing his hip.
“I might have accidentally swallowed it,” he admitted.
Hen sighed and gestured towards the couch. “Sit down.”
The call had come through as a possible choking incident, but the man was breathing, speaking and complaining with more than enough strength to prove that whatever he had swallowed had made it safely past his airway. Hen began assessing him while Chimney asked questions about the size and shape of the missing key.
Buck, left without an immediate medical task, made the mistake of moving closer to the bed.
Eddie noticed.
“Buck.”
“I’m just looking.”
“You are never just looking.”
“They’ve got a safety release.” Buck lifted one of the cuffs from the bedpost, turning it over in his hands. “See? Novelty cuffs aren’t supposed to lock permanently. There’s usually a little lever right—”
The woman lunged.
It happened so quickly that Buck barely had time to register the movement. One second, Eddie was standing beside him, and the next, the woman had grabbed the loose cuff, apparently deciding that demonstrating the problem was the quickest route to being understood.
There were two sharp clicks.
The first cuff snapped around Buck’s left wrist.
The second snapped around Eddie’s right.
For one long, beautiful moment, the apartment fell completely silent.
Buck looked down.
The strip of pink fur between the metal and his skin was aggressively cheerful.
Beside him, Eddie inhaled slowly through his nose.
The woman let go. “See? They’re stuck.”
Chimney made a sound like a kettle beginning to boil.
Buck tugged experimentally.
Eddie’s arm jerked with his.
“Don’t,” Eddie said.
“I was checking.”
“You’ve checked.”
Hen pressed her lips together so tightly that her cheeks trembled.
Bobby walked over, looked at their wrists and then looked at Buck.
“Captain,” Buck began, “before you say anything—”
“I’m not sure there is anything I could say that would improve this situation.”
The shirtless man raised one hand from the couch. “The key should pass naturally.”
Eddie turned his head towards him with an expression that could have stripped paint.
“We’re not waiting for that.”
---
The first attempt to remove them failed because the safety release was broken.
The second failed because the tiny emergency latch had somehow been bent inward.
The third involved a police officer, a hairpin and language Bobby made Buck promise never to repeat within earshot of Christopher.
The fourth attempt nearly resulted in Eddie losing a layer of skin when Buck sneezed at exactly the wrong moment.
After that, Bobby called it.
“We’ll deal with it at the station.”
Eddie stared at him. “How?”
“The bolt cutters.”
Buck brightened. “See? Easy.”
“The bolt cutters are currently with the Urban Search and Rescue unit,” Bobby said. “They borrowed them after the warehouse collapse yesterday.”
Eddie’s expression went completely blank.
Chimney finally lost the battle. He bent in half, bracing both hands on his knees as laughter tore out of him.
Hen lasted approximately three seconds longer.
Even the police officers had to turn away.
Buck looked at Eddie. “It could be worse.”
Eddie slowly rotated his head.
Buck considered his next words carefully.
“We could be handcuffed to Chim.”
“I heard that,” Chimney wheezed.
“That was supposed to make you feel better,” Buck told Eddie.
“It didn’t.”
Getting back to the engine required coordination they did not currently possess.
Buck tried walking first. Eddie tried walking at the same time. They stepped in opposite directions, collided shoulder-first and nearly took out a potted plant in the hallway.
“Same foot,” Eddie muttered.
“Okay. Which foot?”
“Left.”
“My left or your left?”
“We have the same left, Buck.”
“Right.”
“No. Left.”
“I meant right as in correct.”
“Just walk.”
They made it three steps before Buck forgot they were attached and reached back to adjust the strap of his turnout coat. Eddie was yanked sideways and slammed into Buck’s shoulder.
“Sorry.”
“Stop moving your arm.”
“I need my arm.”
“So do I.”
They eventually developed a strange sideways shuffle that got them down the stairs and into the street, where their situation was met with a chorus of phone cameras from the gathering neighbours.
Buck smiled automatically.
Eddie pulled his arm down, dragging Buck’s with it. “Do not pose.”
“I wasn’t posing.”
“You were about to wave.”
“People like firefighters.”
“People like watching firefighters embarrass themselves.”
“That too.”
At the engine, another problem became immediately apparent.
Their usual seats were on opposite sides.
Bobby stared into the cab for a moment, evaluating the situation with the exhausted focus of a man attempting to solve a puzzle designed by a deeply malicious god.
“Buck, sit beside Eddie.”
“That’s my seat,” Chimney said.
“Not today.”
Chimney climbed in behind them, still grinning. “Worth it.”
Buck squeezed onto the bench beside Eddie. Their shoulders pressed together. Their thighs bumped as Buck attempted to arrange his long legs without kicking the medical equipment.
Eddie lifted their joined wrists. “Where exactly do you think this is going?”
“I’m trying to get comfortable.”
“Stop trying.”
Buck wedged his hand between them. Eddie’s hand followed, trapped by the short chain.
“This is not going to work,” Eddie said.
“It has to work. We’ve got twenty minutes back to the station.”
“Fifteen,” Bobby corrected from the front.
“I can be uncomfortable for fifteen minutes.”
Eddie gave him a flat look.
Buck shifted again.
“Stop.”
“My radio is digging into my spine.”
“Good.”
“That’s mean.”
“I’m handcuffed to you in pink fur.”
“You say that like it’s my fault.”
Every member of the team spoke at once.
“It is.”
Buck looked around in betrayal.
Even Bobby nodded.
---
The bolt cutters were not at the station.
They had not been returned.
The backup pair had been sent for maintenance because the handles were cracked.
The station toolbox contained several smaller cutting implements, none of which were rated for hardened steel and all of which Bobby rejected after Eddie asked whether losing one hand would qualify him for early retirement.
“Maintenance says they can send someone,” Bobby told them.
“How long?” Eddie asked.
Bobby glanced down at his phone.
“Three hours.”
Buck looked at the clock.
They were ninety minutes into a twenty-four-hour shift.
“That’s fine,” he said.
Eddie laughed once, without humour. “Of course you think it’s fine.”
“We just have to hang out.”
“We already hang out.”
“Exactly. We’re good at it.”
“We don’t usually hang out with our wrists attached.”
Buck lifted their hands. “Think of it as team-building.”
Hen, who was pouring coffee, turned towards them. “This may be my favourite day at work.”
“Mine too,” Chimney said.
Ravi walked into the kitchen, took one look at Buck and Eddie, and immediately walked back out again.
Buck frowned. “Where’s he going?”
“To get his phone,” Eddie said.
Ravi returned ten seconds later.
“Absolutely not,” Eddie warned.
Ravi lowered the phone. “I wasn’t taking a picture.”
“You opened the camera.”
“I was checking the time.”
“There is a clock behind us.”
Ravi looked at it. “Huh.”
Buck held up their cuffed wrists and smiled. Ravi snapped the photograph.
“Buck!”
“What? Maddie’s going to find out anyway.”
“Maddie?” Chimney pulled out his own phone. “Maddie is the least of your problems.”
Eddie’s phone began buzzing in his pocket less than a minute later.
He froze.
Buck felt the tension travel through the arm connected to his.
“Who is it?” Buck asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Check.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“My phone is in my right pocket.”
Buck glanced down at their joined hands. “Oh.”
Eddie waited.
Buck waited.
The phone continued to buzz.
Hen took a slow sip of coffee.
Chimney leaned back against the counter.
Ravi was openly recording now.
Eddie closed his eyes. “Get it.”
Buck’s eyebrows lifted. “You want me to put my hand in your pocket?”
“You have a free hand.”
“So do you.”
“My free hand is on the wrong side.”
“Well, mine isn’t exactly at the ideal angle.”
The buzzing stopped.
Eddie exhaled.
Then it started again.
Buck tried not to smile. “Could be important.”
“Get the phone.”
Buck moved closer. Eddie went rigid as Buck’s right hand brushed against his hip.
“It’s the front pocket,” Eddie said tightly.
“I know where pockets are.”
“Then why are you taking so long?”
“Because your pants are tight.”
The kitchen erupted.
Eddie’s face turned red so quickly Buck nearly forgot what he was doing.
“I meant—” Buck began.
“Do not finish that sentence.”
“I meant the pocket opening is tight.”
“Somehow worse,” Hen observed.
Buck finally managed to hook two fingers around the phone and pull it free.
Christopher’s name flashed across the screen.
“Chris,” Buck said, all teasing disappearing. “Want me to answer?”
Eddie nodded.
Buck swiped and held the phone between them. “Hey, buddy.”
There was a brief pause.
“Buck?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you answering Dad’s phone?”
Behind Buck, Chimney made a choking noise.
Eddie leaned closer. “Hey, Chris.”
“You’re both there?”
“We’re at work,” Eddie explained.
“Why is Buck answering your phone?”
Eddie stared at the glittering pink cuffs.
Buck grinned.
“Don’t,” Eddie whispered.
“We got handcuffed together,” Buck announced.
Another pause.
“On a call?” Christopher asked.
“Yep.”
“Was it an accident?”
Eddie looked at Buck.
Buck looked at Eddie.
“Mostly,” Buck said.
Christopher laughed so hard that the phone speaker crackled.
“I’m glad you find this funny,” Eddie said.
“I’m telling Denny.”
“You are not.”
“And Harry.”
“Chris.”
“And May.”
“Christopher.”
“And Abuela.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Do not tell your abuela.”
Buck leaned towards the phone. “Send her the picture Chim texted you.”
“I hate every person in this station,” Eddie said.
“You love us,” Buck replied automatically.
Eddie looked at him.
The words hung there, suddenly softer than the joke had intended.
Buck felt something shift beneath his ribs.
Then Christopher’s voice came through the phone. “Are you gonna be like that all day?”
“Hopefully not,” Eddie said.
“Cool. Buck, make sure Dad eats.”
Buck smiled. “Always do.”
Eddie’s gaze dropped to their hands.
The alarm sounded before either of them could say anything else.
---
The next call was a minor traffic collision with one patient trapped inside a compact car.
It should have been straightforward.
It was not.
Bobby took one look at Buck and Eddie as they climbed out of the engine and pointed towards the equipment laid out on the pavement.
“You two stay together.”
Eddie lifted their linked wrists. “That was the plan.”
“I mean physically. No climbing into the vehicle. No splitting around opposite sides. No improvising.”
Buck put a hand to his chest. “Captain, I’m offended.”
“You should be familiar with the feeling.”
The driver was alert but panicked, her door crushed inward by the impact. Hen and Chimney assessed her through the passenger side while Bobby and Ravi prepared the hydraulic spreaders.
Buck and Eddie were assigned to stabilisation.
It turned out that carrying cribbing while handcuffed required them to move in perfect rhythm. Buck would reach; Eddie had to follow. Eddie would crouch; Buck had to bend at the same time. Every motion demanded awareness of where the other man stood, what he was doing and which direction he intended to move next.
At first, they were terrible.
Buck elbowed Eddie in the ribs.
Eddie stepped on Buck’s boot.
Buck reached too far and nearly dragged Eddie face-first into the side of the car.
“Communication,” Bobby called.
“We are communicating,” Eddie snapped.
“You’ve said ‘stop doing that’ six times,” Buck pointed out. “That’s not specific.”
“Stop doing everything.”
“Also not specific.”
But then, somehow, they found a rhythm.
Buck shifted his weight before Eddie moved. Eddie adjusted his wrist when Buck reached. They carried the wooden blocks together, lowered them together and backed away without needing to speak.
It was like working a complicated rescue with Eddie on the rope beside him. Like moving through a burning building with Eddie at his shoulder. Like every other time they had somehow known where the other one would be before looking.
Their bodies understood each other, even when their mouths didn’t.
Once the car was secured, they stood back while Bobby operated the spreader.
The driver’s breathing had gone shallow.
“Hey,” Buck called through the open window. “You’re doing great.”
She turned her head towards him. She was young, maybe twenty, with blood trickling from a cut at her hairline.
“I can’t move,” she whispered.
“The dashboard is pinning your legs, but we’re getting it off you.”
“What if the car catches fire?”
“It won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Buck felt Eddie shift beside him.
“No,” Eddie said, his voice calm and steady. “But we know how to handle it if it does.”
The woman’s eyes moved towards him.
Eddie lifted their attached hands slightly. “Trust me. We’ve already handled stranger situations today.”
She stared at the pink handcuffs.
Then, despite everything, she laughed.
The sound was shaky, but it loosened something in her face.
“Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately,” Eddie said.
“We’re very committed to teamwork,” Buck added.
The driver smiled.
They stayed with her until the dashboard was lifted and Hen could help guide her onto the backboard. Buck talked about anything he could think of. Eddie filled in the gaps when Buck ran out of words. Their cuffed hands rested between them, pressed against the warm metal of the car.
When the ambulance pulled away, Bobby approached.
“You two did well.”
Buck beamed.
Eddie nodded. “Thanks, Cap.”
Bobby’s mouth twitched. “Maybe we should make the handcuffs permanent.”
“No,” Eddie and Buck said together.
---
Lunch created an entirely different set of problems.
Buck could use his right hand.
Eddie could use his left.
Unfortunately, both of them were right-handed.
Bobby had made pasta, which required a level of fork control neither man currently possessed.
Buck stabbed at a piece of chicken. It skidded across his plate and landed beside Eddie’s elbow.
Eddie looked down at it.
“Five-second rule,” Buck said.
“It’s on the table.”
“The table is clean.”
“Chimney was sitting there.”
“Hey,” Chimney protested.
Eddie attempted to twirl spaghetti with his left hand. The noodles slipped free, whipping sauce across Buck’s shirt.
Buck gasped.
Eddie stared at the red stain. “Sorry.”
“You did that on purpose.”
“I’m eating with my non-dominant hand.”
“You looked right at me before it happened.”
“I was looking at your plate.”
“You were targeting me.”
Hen took out her phone.
“No more pictures,” Eddie said.
“This is a video.”
Buck abandoned the fork and picked up a bread roll with his right hand. “We should feed each other.”
Eddie nearly dropped his fork. “We absolutely should not.”
“It would be more efficient.”
“I would rather starve.”
“You heard Chris. I have to make sure you eat.”
“Chris was joking.”
“Christopher Diaz does not joke about proper nutrition.”
“He learned that from you.”
Buck tore off a piece of bread. “Open.”
Eddie stared at it.
“Come on.”
“Put it down.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“You’re trying to feed me in front of our coworkers.”
“Our family,” Buck corrected.
The teasing around the table softened for half a second.
Eddie looked at him, something warm flickering across his face before suspicion returned.
“You’re enjoying this.”
Buck considered denying it.
He looked at their linked hands. At Eddie’s shoulder pressed against his. At the fact that they had been forced into each other’s space for hours and, once he ignored the awkward angles and occasional bruising, it didn’t feel strange.
It felt easy.
Maybe too easy.
“A little,” Buck admitted.
Eddie’s expression changed.
Not much. Just enough that Buck noticed.
Then Eddie opened his mouth and let Buck feed him the bread.
The table exploded.
Chimney slapped both hands against the surface. Hen dropped her forehead onto Karen’s old station mug to muffle her laughter. Ravi looked like he had just witnessed a proposal.
Eddie chewed, swallowed and pointed his fork at all of them.
“Not one word.”
“That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” Chimney said.
“I was at your wedding.”
“Exactly.”
Buck’s ears burned.
Eddie looked down at his plate.
Neither of them suggested feeding the other one again.
---
The maintenance technician arrived just after three.
He examined the cuffs.
He tried the release.
He attempted to pick the lock.
He sprayed lubricant into the mechanism.
Then he sat back on his heels and delivered the verdict.
“They’re jammed.”
“We know that,” Eddie said.
“The metal inside the lock is warped. Cutting them is probably your only option.”
Bobby folded his arms. “Do you have the equipment?”
The technician winced. “The cutting wheel is in the other truck.”
Eddie’s eyes closed.
Buck touched their joined hands against Eddie’s thigh. It was meant to be reassuring. It probably would have been, had Eddie not immediately looked down at the point of contact.
Buck froze.
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
The technician cleared his throat. “I can come back tomorrow.”
“No,” Eddie said.
Bobby stepped in before the conversation became a hostage situation.
USAR promised the bolt cutters would be back by six.
It was three fifteen.
“Bathroom,” Eddie announced the moment the technician left.
Every head in the loft turned towards them.
Buck stood. “Yeah. Me too.”
Chimney’s smile was immediate and deeply evil.
“No,” Eddie said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Hen leaned back in her chair. “This may require problem-solving.”
“It does not require an audience,” Eddie said.
Buck followed him towards the stairs. “We’ll figure it out.”
Eddie stopped so abruptly Buck walked into his back.
“You are going first.”
“What?”
“You go in. I stand outside.”
“The chain isn’t long enough for you to stand outside.”
“Then I’ll stand by the door.”
“That’s weird.”
“The entire situation is weird.”
“Okay, but then when you go—”
“You stand by the door.”
Buck stared at him.
Eddie stared back.
From behind them, Ravi called, “Do you want us to turn the music up?”
Eddie spun around, dragging Buck with him. “I want every single one of you to find something productive to do.”
Hen raised her mug. “This is productive. Team morale is at an all-time high.”
The bathroom was small.
Buck had never noticed how small until he was standing in it with Eddie, their linked arms stretched awkwardly between the sink and toilet.
They both looked anywhere except at each other.
“This is humiliating,” Eddie muttered.
“We’ve been through worse.”
“Name one thing.”
Buck opened his mouth.
Eddie pointed at him with his free hand. “That happened to both of us at the same time.”
Buck closed his mouth.
Eddie turned towards the wall. “Just go.”
“You need to move closer.”
“I do not.”
“The chain, Eddie.”
Eddie shuffled back half a step.
“More.”
“Buck.”
“I’m not enjoying this either.”
“You said you were enjoying it.”
“Not this part!”
Eventually, through a complicated system of turned backs, closed eyes and promises never to discuss the matter again, they managed.
On the way out, Buck caught his shoulder on the doorframe. Eddie instinctively grabbed his waist to steady him.
They stopped.
Eddie’s free hand was splayed against Buck’s side.
Buck’s chest was pressed to Eddie’s shoulder.
Their cuffed hands were trapped between them.
The bathroom suddenly seemed even smaller.
“You okay?” Eddie asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
Eddie didn’t move his hand.
Buck could feel the warmth of it through his uniform shirt.
He looked down at Eddie’s mouth.
Just for a second.
When he looked back up, Eddie was watching him.
Something passed between them—something dangerous and delicate and far too large for a firehouse bathroom with novelty handcuffs between them.
Then Chimney shouted from the loft, “Did you fall in?”
Eddie stepped back so quickly the chain snapped taut.
“We’re fine,” he yelled.
Buck rubbed his wrist.
Eddie opened the door.
Neither of them spoke as they returned upstairs.
---
By the time the evening call came in, the novelty had started to wear off.
Their wrists were sore. The fur lining had twisted, leaving the edge of the metal exposed against Buck’s skin. Eddie had developed a red mark across his knuckles from where the chain kept catching when Buck moved too quickly.
They were tired, irritable and increasingly aware of every point where their bodies touched.
The call was to an apartment building where a six-year-old boy had climbed onto a fire escape and become too frightened to move.
His mother stood in the alley below, shouting up to him in Spanish and English. The boy clung to the railing three floors above the ground, crying so hard he could barely breathe.
The ladder could reach him easily.
The problem was that the fire escape was old, rusted and visibly pulling away from the brick.
“I can go,” Ravi said.
Bobby looked up at the boy.
Before he could answer, one of the bolts holding the platform to the wall popped free.
The metal structure dropped several inches.
The mother screamed.
Buck’s whole body surged forward.
Eddie moved with him.
“Cap,” Buck said.
Bobby looked at their wrists.
“No.”
“We can reach him faster from the second-floor window.”
“You’re attached.”
“We’ve adjusted,” Eddie said.
Buck glanced at him.
Eddie’s gaze stayed fixed on the terrified child above them.
Bobby made the calculation. Buck could see it happening: the distance, the instability, the time needed to reposition the ladder.
“Ropes,” Bobby ordered. “You both wear harnesses. You move as one unit. The second I say back off, you back off.”
They nodded.
The second-floor apartment gave them access to a window beneath the fire escape. The platform above groaned as the child shifted.
Buck climbed through first, Eddie close behind.
The narrow landing barely had room for both of them. Their shoulders pressed together as they looked up.
“Hey!” Buck called.
The boy squeezed his eyes shut.
“My name’s Buck. This is Eddie.”
“Hola, Mateo,” Eddie said gently. “Mírame.”
The child looked down.
Eddie spoke calmly in Spanish, telling him they were firefighters, telling him they were going to help, telling him he didn’t have to move yet.
Buck kept one hand on the railing. He could feel the vibration in the metal with every shuddering breath the boy took.
“We need to climb,” Buck whispered.
“The cuffs.”
“We go together.”
Eddie nodded.
They moved.
One step at a time, coordinating without discussion. Buck reached with his right hand while Eddie steadied them with his left. Their cuffed arms stayed between them, bent at the elbow, their shoulders touching as they climbed.
The fire escape groaned.
“Easy,” Bobby’s voice warned over the radio.
They reached Mateo’s platform.
The child was wedged against the brick, fingers locked around the railing.
Eddie crouched first. Buck lowered with him.
“Mateo,” Eddie said, “I need you to come to us.”
The boy shook his head violently.
Another bolt gave way.
The platform tilted.
Buck grabbed the railing with his free hand. Eddie braced one boot against the stair beneath them.
Mateo screamed.
“Buck,” Bobby said sharply through the radio.
“We’re stable.”
They weren’t, not really.
Eddie looked at Buck.
It was one of those looks that contained an entire conversation.
I’m going to move.
I know.
Hold us.
I’ve got you.
Eddie released his grip on the railing and reached for Mateo.
The platform shifted again.
Buck locked his arm, every muscle in his shoulder screaming as he took their combined weight. The cuff bit into his wrist, but he didn’t let go.
Eddie caught the boy around the waist.
“I have him.”
“Bring him in.”
Mateo clung to Eddie’s neck. Eddie dragged him against his chest and turned awkwardly, trying to pass him towards Buck without throwing off their balance.
The chain between the cuffs pulled tight.
“Together,” Buck breathed.
Eddie nodded.
They rose at the same time.
Buck wrapped his free arm around Mateo while Eddie kept one hand against the boy’s back. The child was trapped safely between them, shielded by both their bodies.
The moment their weight left the upper platform, it tore away from the wall.
Metal screamed.
The landing folded beneath itself and dropped into the alley.
Mateo buried his face against Buck’s chest.
Buck and Eddie clung to the ladder section, their harness lines snapping tight as Bobby and Ravi took the strain below.
For one suspended second, Buck had one arm around Mateo, one boot balanced on a rusted step and Eddie’s cuffed hand locked against his.
“Don’t let go,” Eddie said.
Buck looked at him.
There was fear in Eddie’s eyes. Not for himself. Never for himself.
For Buck.
“Never,” Buck said.
They descended with Mateo held between them.
When their boots hit the ground, the boy’s mother pulled him into her arms so fiercely that Buck had to blink away the sting behind his eyes.
Bobby checked them both over.
“You two okay?”
“Fine,” Eddie said.
Buck looked down.
The fur around his cuff had turned dark with blood.
Eddie followed his gaze.
“Buck.”
“It’s just a scrape.”
Eddie grabbed his wrist, turning it carefully. His face tightened at the raw skin underneath the metal.
“You were supposed to tell me it was cutting you.”
“We were busy.”
“You’ve been bleeding longer than that.”
Buck shrugged. “Didn’t seem important.”
Eddie’s jaw clenched.
“It’s important to me.”
The alley seemed to go quiet around them.
Buck stared at him.
Eddie still held Buck’s wrist, his thumb resting just below the cuff.
“Okay,” Buck said softly.
Eddie looked away first.
---
The bolt cutters were waiting at the station when they returned.
The entire team gathered around the kitchen table for the ceremony.
Buck sat beside Eddie, their arms resting on a folded towel. Bobby positioned the jaws of the cutter over the short chain connecting them.
“You both need to stay completely still.”
“Tell him,” Eddie said.
Buck frowned. “I’m great at staying still.”
Every person in the loft looked at him.
“Fine. I’m capable of staying still.”
Bobby applied pressure.
The metal resisted.
Then, with a sharp crack, the chain snapped.
Their hands fell apart.
For the first time in nearly nine hours, Buck was no longer touching Eddie.
The sudden absence felt wrong.
He rubbed his wrist, staring at the broken chain lying on the towel.
Beside him, Eddie flexed his fingers.
Chimney applauded.
Hen wiped away an imaginary tear. “The end of an era.”
“Thank God,” Eddie said.
But his voice lacked conviction.
Bobby carefully cut through the remaining cuff on Buck’s wrist, then Eddie’s. Hen cleaned Buck’s abrasion and wrapped it in gauze while Eddie hovered close enough to read the instructions on every antiseptic wipe.
“It doesn’t need stitches,” Hen told him.
“I know.”
“You asked twice.”
“I was confirming.”
Buck smiled down at his bandage.
The shift returned to normal.
That should have been a relief.
Instead, everything felt slightly off.
Eddie sat in his usual chair across the table instead of beside Buck. Buck reached for his water and didn’t have to check whether Eddie was moving first. When they walked downstairs, Eddie took the left side and Buck took the right.
There was space between them again.
Buck had never realised how much space there usually was.
Or how little he wanted it.
At midnight, the station finally settled.
Bobby went to his office. Hen and Chimney disappeared into the bunk room. Ravi stretched out on the couch with headphones in.
Buck found Eddie on the balcony.
He stood with both hands wrapped around a mug, looking out over the dark street below.
Buck stepped outside.
Eddie glanced over. “Wrist okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Hen said to keep it dry.”
“I heard her.”
“You don’t always listen.”
“I listen.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow.
Buck leaned against the railing beside him. Their shoulders didn’t touch.
He hated that he noticed.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The city moved below them. Headlights swept across the street. Somewhere in the distance, a siren rose and faded.
“We were good today,” Buck said.
Eddie looked at him. “We’re always good.”
“I mean attached.”
“Buck, I’m not volunteering to do it again.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Eddie took a drink from his mug.
Buck stared at his own hands. “It was weird when Bobby cut them.”
“The cuffs?”
“Yeah.”
“They were hurting you.”
“I know.”
“So why was it weird?”
Buck could feel the answer sitting in his throat.
Because for nine hours, Eddie hadn’t been able to walk away.
Because every movement had been shared.
Because Buck had spent an entire day hyperaware of Eddie’s pulse beneath his fingers, Eddie’s breath beside his face, Eddie’s hand catching his waist.
Because when the chain broke, it felt less like freedom and more like loss.
“It was quiet,” Buck said eventually.
Eddie frowned. “The entire team was cheering.”
“No, I mean…” Buck searched for the words. “My head was quiet when we were cuffed together.”
Eddie’s expression softened.
“I didn’t have to wonder where you were,” Buck continued. “I didn’t have to check whether you were behind me or across the room or already halfway out the door. You were just there.”
“I’m usually there.”
“I know.” Buck laughed nervously. “That’s probably the problem.”
Eddie set his mug down.
“What problem?”
Buck looked at him.
There were a thousand ways to ruin this. Buck had imagined most of them. He could say too much. He could misunderstand. He could take the most important relationship in his life and twist it into something Eddie had never wanted.
But Eddie had asked.
And Buck had spent nine hours unable to move without him.
Maybe that had taught him something.
“Today didn’t feel as strange as it should have,” Buck said. “Being that close to you. Having to move together. Eating together. Working together. It felt…” He swallowed. “It felt natural.”
Eddie’s eyes stayed on his face.
Buck’s heart pounded.
“And then you touched me in the bathroom.”
Eddie’s eyebrows shot up. “That is a terrible way to phrase that.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I stopped you from falling.”
“You didn’t move your hand.”
Eddie looked down.
Buck stepped closer.
Only an inch.
Enough that their sleeves brushed.
“You didn’t move it,” Buck repeated.
“No,” Eddie said quietly.
“Why?”
Eddie exhaled.
“Because I didn’t want to.”
The words landed between them with more force than the bolt cutters.
Buck’s breath caught.
Eddie’s gaze dropped to Buck’s mouth and then rose again.
“I’ve spent years trying not to want things that could change everything,” Eddie said. “It turns out handcuffing me to one of those things for nine hours was not a particularly effective avoidance strategy.”
Buck smiled despite the tightness in his chest. “I’m a thing?”
“You’re an idiot.”
“An idiot thing?”
“My favourite idiot thing.”
“That’s really romantic, Eddie.”
“I was doing better before you interrupted.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“No.”
Eddie shook his head, but he was smiling now.
Buck lifted his bandaged hand.
He hesitated before touching Eddie’s wrist, right where the cuff had rested.
Eddie turned his hand over beneath Buck’s and linked their fingers.
No metal.
No chain.
No malfunctioning lock.
He did it because he wanted to.
Buck stared at their hands.
“This feels better,” he whispered.
“Yeah.”
Buck looked up.
Eddie’s free hand settled on Buck’s waist, in the same place it had in the bathroom.
This time, neither of them pretended it was to keep Buck from falling.
“Can I kiss you?” Buck asked.
Eddie’s smile trembled at the edges. “You really need to ask?”
“Consent is important.”
“So is timing.”
“Is this a bad time?”
“Buck.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Eddie pulled him in.
The kiss was soft at first, almost cautious, which was ridiculous after a day spent crashing into each other, arguing over pockets and sharing food in front of their coworkers. Buck’s fingers tightened around Eddie’s. Eddie’s thumb pressed into Buck’s side.
Then Buck tilted his head and Eddie kissed him properly.
Warm and sure and a little desperate.
Buck forgot about the cuffs.
He forgot about the calls and the blood and Chimney’s photographs.
There was only Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s hand and Eddie choosing to hold on when nothing forced him to.
A loud thud came from inside.
They broke apart.
Ravi was standing on the other side of the glass door, one hand covering his eyes and the other fumbling for the handle.
“I didn’t see anything,” he said.
“You walked into the door,” Eddie replied.
“My eyes were closed.”
“Why were your eyes closed?”
“Because I saw everything.”
Buck started laughing.
Eddie groaned and dropped his forehead against Buck’s shoulder.
From the bunk room, Chimney shouted, “Did it happen yet?”
Hen’s voice followed. “Of course it happened. Pay up.”
Eddie lifted his head.
“You told them?”
“I didn’t tell anyone anything.”
“Then why are they betting?”
“Because they have eyes?”
Chimney appeared at the top of the stairs holding his phone. “For the record, I had before midnight.”
Hen followed him. “I had before the cuffs came off. They took their time.”
Bobby opened his office door. “Why is everyone awake?”
“Buck and Eddie kissed,” Ravi said.
Bobby closed his eyes.
Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded bill and handed it to Hen.
Buck stared. “You too?”
Bobby pointed at them. “My only request is that you never again require novelty restraints to communicate your feelings.”
“We make no promises,” Buck said as he gave a cheeky wink.
Eddie elbowed him.
Buck laughed and caught Eddie’s hand again before it could fall away.
Eddie looked down at their intertwined fingers.
Then he smiled.
The handcuffs had been pink, ridiculous and possibly the most humiliating piece of rescue equipment Buck had ever encountered.
They had left him bruised, bleeding and the subject of at least three station group chats.
But as Eddie’s fingers tightened around his, Buck decided he could forgive them because they had given him some quality time with eddie.