Chapter Text
The 118 kitchen is loud.
It’s always loud.
Someone’s microwavable popcorn is beeping. Someone else arguing about whose turn it is to clean the coffee pot. Chim narrating a story that somehow involves three raccoons and a vending machine.
Station 118 operates on chaos.
And Buck—
Buck thrives in chaos.
But right now he’s sitting at the kitchen table, chin in his hands, staring very seriously at everyone like he’s about to deliver a life altering speech.
Which is always a warning sign.
“Okay,” Buck says.
Hen doesn’t even look up from her coffee, “No.”
Buck frowns, “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
Hen finally glances at him, sees the look on Buck’s face and sighs, “Experience tells me I don’t need to.”
Chim points a fork at Buck, “Last time you said ‘okay’ like that, we ended up discussing whether a shark could survive in a pool.”
“That was a valid scientific inquiry.”
“We don’t have a pool,” Bobby says mildly from the stove.
Buck waves that off, “Irrelevant.”
Across the table, Eddie is quietly eating his cereal like this is completely normal.
Because it is.
Buck clears his throat dramatically, “Hypothetical question.”
Everyone groans.
Except Eddie.
Eddie glances up, dark eyes curious, because Buck’s hypotheticals are weird but they’re also, strangely important to Buck. Eddie figured that out a long time ago.
Buck looks around the table, “Would you guys still love me if I was a worm?”
Dead silence.
Hen blinks.
Chim blinks.
Ravi slowly lowers his orange juice.
“…a worm?” Chim repeats.
“Yes.”
“Like… an earthworm?”
Buck shrugs, “Dealer’s choice.”
Hen snorts, “Buck, why are you like this?”
“I’m serious!”
Ravi laughs, “Bro, worms don’t even have bones.”
“Not the point.”
Chim waves his fork, “You would literally just be dirt spaghetti.”
Buck’s face falls a little.
Just a little.
They keep going.
Hen grins, “Okay but real talk—what kind of worm are we talking? Because if it’s one of those giant nightmare Australian ones—”
Chim is laughing now. Ravi too.
Buck’s smile turns thin. “Right,” he mutters. “Cool. Never mind.”
Eddie’s spoon pauses halfway to his mouth.
Because Buck’s tone changed.
Barely.
But Eddie knows Buck.
Knows the tiny shifts. The moments where Buck laughs something off but there’s something raw sitting underneath.
Bobby notices too, but Eddie beats him to it.
“Hold on,” Eddie says.
The table quiets.
Eddie sets his spoon down and turns toward Buck fully.
“Are you a worm because of a curse,” Eddie asks thoughtfully, “or like… permanently?”
Buck blinks, “…what?”
Eddie shrugs, “Details matter.”
Chim groans, “Oh my god, you’re enabling him.”
Buck’s eyes are already lighting up though, “Okay, um, let’s say permanently.”
Hen buries her face in her hands.
Eddie nods seriously, “Alright.”
Buck leans forward, “You’d have to keep me in like—” Buck gestures vaguely “—a terrarium or something.”
“Okay.”
“With dirt.” Buck adds.
“Reasonable.”
“And maybe mist me with water sometimes.”
Eddie considers this, “Yeah, I could do that.”
Buck stares at him, “…really?”
“Sure.”
Chim chokes on his drink, “You’re adopting Worm Buck?”
Eddie ignores him, “If you’re a worm you probably can’t feed yourself,” Eddie continues, frowning slightly, “So I’d have to figure out what worms eat.”
“Dirt,” Ravi supplies.
“Okay. Easy then.”
Buck’s voice goes small, “You’d… keep me?”
Eddie looks confused, “Yeah?”
“Like,” Buck swallows “…even if I couldn’t do anything?”
Hen and Chim have stopped joking now.
Because something in Buck’s voice shifted again.
Eddie studies Buck for a long moment. And suddenly… he gets it.
Buck isn’t asking about worms. Buck’s asking if love disappears when usefulness does.
Eddie leans his elbows on the table, “Buck.”
Buck looks down.
“If you were a worm,” Eddie says gently, “I’d build you the best damn terrarium anyone’s ever seen.”
Buck huffs a quiet laugh.
“I’d put it on my nightstand so I could see you every morning.”
Buck’s eyes flick up.
Eddie keeps going, “I’d mist the dirt so you didn’t dry out. Probably overdo it because I worry.”
Chim whispers to Hen, “Why is this romantic.”
Hen whispers back, “Shut up.”
Eddie doesn’t stop looking at Buck, “And I’d talk to you,” he says. “Even if you couldn’t answer.”
Buck’s throat tightens, “Why?” he asks.
Eddie tilts his head like the answer is obvious, “Because you’d still be you.”
The kitchen is quiet now.
Buck fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie, “What if I wasn’t?” he asks softly.
Eddie’s brows knit.
“What if I changed?” Buck presses. “What if I couldn’t… be useful anymore. Couldn’t do the job. Couldn’t help people. Couldn’t—”
Eddie cuts him off, “I don’t love you because you’re useful.”
Buck freezes.
Eddie looks mildly startled that he said that out loud. But he doesn’t take it back.
Buck’s voice barely works, “…you love me?”
Chim quietly grabs Ravi and drags him out of the kitchen.
Hen follows.
Bobby pretends the stove needs intense supervision.
Leaving Buck and Eddie alone at the table.
Eddie exhales.
“Buck,” he says softly, “you ask a lot of hypotheticals.”
Buck sniffles a little, “I do not.”
“You once asked if I’d still like you if you were a sentient cloud.”
“That was a good one.”
Eddie smiles, “But every single one of them is the same question.”
Buck doesn’t speak.
Eddie’s voice turns quiet, “Would I still love you if you stopped being the version of yourself you think people want.”
Buck’s eyes shine, “…yeah.”
Eddie shakes his head a little, “Idiot.”
Buck laughs weakly, “Rude.”
Eddie reaches across the table and takes Buck’s hand.
Buck goes very still.
“I loved you when you were reckless,” Eddie says.
Buck swallows.
“I loved you when you were scared.” His thumb brushes Buck’s knuckles, “I loved you when you didn’t think you were enough.”
Buck whispers, “Eddie—”
“And if you turned into a worm tomorrow,” Eddie finishes, voice soft and certain, “I’d still love you.”
Buck stares at him. Heart racing.
“Because you’re you,” Eddie says simply.
Buck’s voice shakes, “…okay but follow up hypothetical.”
Eddie huffs a laugh, “Of course there’s a follow up.”
Buck leans closer, “What if,” he says quietly, “instead of a worm…”
Eddie raises an eyebrow.
“…I kissed you?”
Eddie blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Then he smiles, slow and warm and a little nervous.
“Well,” Eddie says, “Guess we’d have to test that hypothesis.”
Buck doesn’t hesitate. He leans across the table and kisses him.
It’s soft.
A little clumsy.
Very Buck.
Eddie kisses him back immediately.
When they pull apart, Buck is grinning like he just discovered fire.
“So?” Buck asks breathlessly.
Eddie hums thoughtfully, “Yeah.”
Buck bounces in his seat, “Yeah what?”
Eddie squeezes his hand, “I’d still love you.”
Buck beams.
From the hallway Chim whispers loudly, “I KNEW THE WORM QUESTION WAS GAY.”
Hen smacks him.
Bobby sighs.
Eddie kisses Buck again anyway.