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Eddie was a man of many layers, though he preferred to let people believe he was exactly what he seemed. Ex military. Single father. Dedicated firefighter. A guy who liked his beer cold, his trucks, and his emotions tightly compartmentalized.
But Eddie had a secret.
It wasn't a dark, brooding secret. It wasn't something that would get him fired or arrested. But if the 118 ever found out, he would never, ever hear the end of it.
Eddie Diaz was a devout, unapologetic subscriber to Cosmopolitan magazine.
Physical copies, too. None of that digital nonsense on an iPad. He hated technology and he hated reading his magazine on screens, they hurt his eyes, and quite frankly, digital just didn't have that glossy, new magazine smell. Plus, there was something deeply satisfying about physically turning the pages.
He blamed his Abuela. He had grown up surrounded by telenovelas, soaking in the high stakes drama, the ridiculous plot twists, and the shameless gossip. Cosmo was just the American, printed equivalent. He loved the ridiculous advice columns, the celebrity drama, and, most importantly, the quizzes. He took the quizzes with the kind of solemn dedication most men reserved for fantasy football.
It was a quiet night. Christopher was fast asleep in his room, dead to the world after a grueling math test, and the house was blissfully silent. Eddie cracked open a cold beer, sighed, and settled onto his comfortable couch.
Right on the coffee table, freshly delivered that afternoon, sat the newest issue. It was bright pink, featuring a pop star on the cover, and a headline screaming
SUMMER SCANDALS & HOTTER NIGHTS!
Eddie grabbed a bright pink gel pen he had confiscated from Christopher’s desk last week, popped the cap, and flipped straight to the quiz.
Ah. Page 112. The monthly quiz.
AM I IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND?
Eddie snorted. He took a sip of his beer and leaned back. He always did these for fun, treating them like mindless escapism from the life or death stress of his job. "Alright, Cosmo," he muttered to the empty room. "Let's see what you've got."
Question 1: When something good happens, who is the first person you want to call?
A) My mom, dad, son, daughter, brother or sister.
B) My partner.
C) My best friend.
Eddie tapped the pink pen against his chin. Well, obviously Buck. Christopher is ten, he didn't care that the premium brisket was randomly fifty percent off at the butcher down the street. Buck, however, would care deeply. Buck would demand Eddie buy three of them and immediately invite himself over to slow cook them in a spice rub he saw on a cooking blog. It wasn't emotional, it was just practical. Eddie circled C.
Question 2: How do you feel when they talk about their dating life?
A) Happy they are putting themselves out there!
B) Indifferent, as long as they're safe.
C) Irritated, nauseous, or suddenly critical of their date's every flaw.
Eddie aggressively stabbed his pen at C. He didn't even have to think about it. Just last month, Buck had gone on two dates with a perfectly nice woman named Sarah. Sarah was a dental hygienist. Sarah hated animals and didn't understand why Buck knew so many random, obscure facts about deep sea marine life. Eddie had spent an entire evening picking apart Sarah’s character flaws while Buck looked on in bewilderment. She was completely wrong for him, Eddie rationalized now, filling in the circle completely. I was just looking out for my guy. You can't date a woman who hates the animals.
Question 3: Do you notice the little things about them?
Eddie actually laughed out loud. Little things? Please. He knew Buck took exactly two sugars and a splash of oat milk in his coffee, because regular milk made his stomach upset even if Buck refused to admit it. He knew Buck favored his left leg when it rained because the metal pins ached. He knew Buck made a very specific, soft happy sound in the back of his throat when Christopher fell asleep against his side on the couch. Eddie could identify Buck’s heavy, bouncing footsteps in the firehouse blindfolded. He checked the YES box so hard the pink ink almost bled through the glossy paper.
Question 4: Are you physically affectionate?
Eddie paused. He brought the beer bottle to his lips, thinking. He thought about how they practically sat on top of each other in the back of the engine, their thighs pressed together even when there was plenty of room. He thought about how he routinely used Buck's shoulder as a headrest during movie nights. How they constantly bumped hips in the kitchen, weaving around each other like they shared a single orbit.
We're tactile people, Eddie thought defensively. It's a high stress job. We need grounding. He circled YES.
Eddie moved to the bottom of the page to tally his score. Mostly C's and Yes's. He followed the little dotted line to the results box at the bottom corner of the page.
“Stop kidding yourself, honey! You aren't just friends, you are completely, hopelessly in love with your bestie. It’s time to stop making excuses and start making a move!”
Eddie stared at the bright pink font.
He didn't panic. He didn't drop his beer, and he didn't spiral into a crisis of identity. The Catholic guilt he had grown up with stayed entirely dormant.
Instead, he took a slow, deliberate sip of his beer. He looked over at the dining chair, where Buck had left his favorite gray LAFD hoodie draped over the back. He thought of the extra toothbrush sitting by the sink in his bathroom. He thought of the fact that Evan Buckley was literally written into his legal will.
He looked back at the magazine. The math was right there. Eddie was a practical man, and he trusted the math.
He also trusted Cosmo, Cosmo never lied to him.
"Huh," Eddie said aloud to his quiet living room, a slow, incredibly warm sense of clarity washing over him. "Well. That actually explains a lot."
Over the next month, everything shifted.
Or rather, nothing changed at all, except Eddie finally opened his eyes. The realization that he was in love with Evan Buckley didn't feel like a house burning down, it felt like stepping into a warm house after standing out in a blizzard. All the confusing, heavy, exhausting feelings he’d carried around for years suddenly had a name, and they made perfect, logical sense.
He was in love with him. Of course he was in love with him. It was Buck.
Eddie entered what he privately called his Testing Phase. Since he no longer had to actively repress his instincts or rationalize them away under the guise of friendship, he just... let himself feel it.
When they were in the locker room after a grueling shift, Eddie stopped aggressively staring at the floor. Instead, he let his eyes wander. He watched Buck step out of the showers, water dripping down those ridiculous, broad shoulders, a towel slung precariously low on his hips. Eddie felt his mouth go dry, a spike of pure heat settling low in his gut.
When they cooked dinner in the Diaz kitchen, Eddie stopped making excuses to touch him. He just did it. He let his hand linger on Buck’s waist when he reached past him for the salt. He stood way too close, letting their chests brush. He openly smiled, a soft, fond thing, when Buck went on a ten minute tangent about the history of the toaster oven.
Buck, for his part, seemed deeply, wonderfully confused. He started dropping things. He tripped over his own feet on a call. Whenever Eddie touched him, a bright red blush would creep up Buck's neck, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. It was the most endearing thing Eddie had ever seen.
Exactly four weeks after his epiphany, the next issue of Cosmopolitan arrived.
Eddie was waiting for it. Once again, Christopher was in bed, the house was quiet, and Eddie had his beer and his pink pen ready.
He cracked open the glossy cover, bypassing the article on 10 Ways to Spice Up Your Wardrobe and flipping straight to the back.
The universe, Eddie decided, had a fantastic sense of humor.
The bold, glittering font at the top of the page read
AM I STRAIGHT?
Eddie smirked. He grabbed his pen with the solemn focus of a man defusing a bomb. Loving Buck was an undeniable fact, but Eddie realized he hadn't actually stopped to figure out the sexuality part of it.
Question 1: When you look at attractive person of the same sex, are you thinking "I want to BE them" or "I want to be WITH them"?
Eddie immediately conjured the image of Buck in the locker room from two days ago. Eddie absolutely did not want to be Buck. He just wanted to press him against the nearest row of metal lockers, tangle his hands in those stupid blonde curls, and,
Eddie cleared his throat in the empty room. He felt his face heat up. "With them," he muttered, circling it neatly.
Question 2: Looking back at your past relationships with the opposite sex, did it ever feel like a performance? Like you were reading a script of what a partner should do?
Eddie stopped. The lighthearted humor drained out of him for just a second, replaced by a sudden, striking wave of emotion. His marriage to Shannon... God, he had loved her, but it had always been so hard. It had always felt like he was playing a role. Eddie Diaz, Good Straight Man. Eddie Diaz, Traditional Husband. He had spent his whole life trying to fit into a slightly too tight uniform, reading lines from a script he hadn't written.
Loving Buck wasn't a performance. Loving Buck was as easy as breathing in.
He checked the box, feeling a phantom weight lift off his chest.
Question 3: Have you ever found yourself in a friendship of the same sex that others joke is basically a marriage?
Eddie rolled his eyes. Chimney literally asked for our custody arrangement over the TV remote yesterday, Eddie thought dryly. And Bobby keeps scheduling our shifts together because he says separating us is a safety hazard to the public, he says we would be to distracted without the other around. He checked the box.
Question 4: What is your ideal Friday night?
A) Hitting the club to pick up someone of the opposite sex.
B) A romantic dinner date at a fancy restaurant.
C) Sitting suspiciously close to a friend of the same sex on the couch, drinking beers, and making intense eye contact while arguing about a documentary.
Eddie felt personally attacked by option C. Cosmo was getting far too specific. It was like they had cameras in his living room. He aggressively circled it.
He tallied his score, dragging the pen down to the results box.
"Spoiler alert: You’re not straight! Whether you're bi, pan, gay, or still figuring it out, one thing is for sure, the closet door is wide open, babe."
Eddie put the pen down.
He sat there for a long time, listening to the whine of the refrigerator. He expected to feel some kind of panic. He expected the old, deeply ingrained voices of his parents or his church to start screaming in his head.
But there was nothing. Just a massive, unspooling sense of relief. It felt like taking off his heavy turnout coat after a twenty four hour shift. He felt settled in his own skin for the first time in his entire life. He didn't know exactly what label fit best yet gay, bisexual, demi and honestly, he didn't care. He was just not straight, and he was in love with Evan Buckley.
Eddie closed the magazine, smiled softly, and picked up his phone.
To: Buck
Hey. Wondering if you want to come over for dinner tomorrow? We could make enchiladas?
The reply came less than ten seconds later.
From: Buck
yes!!! absolutely. what time??
but I will make them. we all know what happens when you cook!
Eddie laughed, a bright, happy sound. "Not straight it is, then," he said.
By the time the third issue of Cosmo arrived a month later, Eddie’s internal awakening was completely, thoroughly finished. He was a practical man, he had identified the reality (he was not straight), identified the goal (kissing Evan Buckley until they both passed out), and simply integrated this into his worldview.
He was entirely at peace.
Which is why, when he was rushing out the door for his shift, running fifteen minutes late because Christopher couldn't find his left sneaker, Eddie wasn't thinking straight (pun intended).
He grabbed his keys, his wallet, and the freshly delivered, magazine sitting on the table, shoving it carelessly into his duffel bag.
It was a mistake that would go down in 118 history.
Up in the loft, the smell of Bobby’s famous Mac N Cheese was already wafting from the kitchen. Eddie jogged up the stairs, throwing his duffel bag onto the heavy wooden dining table.
"Sorry I'm late, Cap," Eddie called out, unzipping the bag to pull out his uniform shirt. "Chris hid his shoe in the,"
As he pulled the shirt out, the magazine caught on the fabric. It slid out of the duffel bag, landing smack in the middle of the table with a heavy, glossy smack.
This month’s cover was featuring a very bold, very large headline about ORGASMS.
The loft went dead silent.
Chimney, who had been aggressively playing on his phone, slowly lowered it. Hen paused with a coffee mug halfway to her mouth. Bobby stopped cooking. Buck, who was wiping down the counter, froze.
Chimney reached out, using a single finger to slide the magazine toward him. "Diaz," Chimney started, his voice trembling with suppressed glee. "Is this yours, or did you steal someone’s reading material?"
Hen snorted, nearly choking on her coffee. "Please tell me you use this for the articles, Eddie."
Buck was just staring at the magazine, his mouth slightly open, a dusting of pink on his cheeks. "Eddie, are you... reading Cosmopolitan?"
Eddie, completely deadpan and utterly unapologetic, didn't even blink. He grabbed his uniform shirt. "I have a subscription," he said smoothly. "Don’t rip it, Chim, I haven't read it yet."
The entire loft erupted. Chimney howled, slapping the table, while Hen leaned against the counter, crying with laughter. Even Bobby let out a loud, booming chuckle.
"You have a subscription!" Chimney wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Oh my god. The stone cold, ex medic badass reads Cosmo. I am never letting you live this down."
"Laugh all you want," Eddie said, completely unbothered as he wandered over to the kitchen counter to start making himself a sandwich. He grabbed a loaf of bread and the mayonnaise. "They have excellent advice. And the gossip is top tier."
Chimney, entirely unable to resist, opened the magazine. He started flipping through the glossy pages, dramatically reading out article titles. "'Ten Texts to Make Him Sweat', Eddie, is this your secret weapon? Oh! Wait. Page 84. This month's quiz!"
Eddie spread mayo on a slice of bread. "What's the quiz?"
Chimney cleared his throat, adopting a cheesy game show host voice. “What Is Your Sexuality? A Journey of Self Discovery."
Eddie paused holding the butter knife. "Oh," he said casually, slapping some cold cuts onto the bread. "I have to do that one."
The laughter in the loft cut off instantly.
It wasn't a slow fade. It was like someone had taken a pair of scissors and snipped the audio cord to the room. The silence was heavy and suddenly suffocating.
Hen set her coffee mug down with a soft clack. She looked at Bobby, who looked at Chimney, who looked at Buck.
Buck was gripping his dish towel so hard his knuckles were stark white. He looked like he had forgotten how to breathe.
"Arh..." Hen started cautiously, testing the waters. "Eddie?"
Eddie didn't even look up from his sandwich. He was too busy making sure the ham to cheese ratio was perfectly balanced. Because he was so secure in his newly discovered truth, the anxiety of a grand coming out speech didn't even register in his brain. To him, this was just old news.
"Yeah, the last two issues have had me questioning a few things," Eddie said, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. He added a piece of lettuce. "Did the quizzes. Turns out I'm definitely not straight. Which makes a lot of sense in hindsight."
Chimney made a sound like a dying squeaky toy.
Eddie kept building his sandwich, entirely oblivious to the fact that the earth had practically stopped spinning for the rest of the 118. "Not really sure what label I am yet," Eddie continued conversationally, reaching for the mustard. "Gay, bi, I don't know. The only thing I know for sure is that I am undeniably, hopelessly in love with Buck."
He slapped the top piece of bread onto his sandwich with a satisfying smack.
Perfect.
Eddie picked up the sandwich, took a massive bite, and finally turned around to face his team.
He froze, chewing slowly.
The sight before him belonged in a museum. Bobby was holding his spatula in mid air, his eyes wide. Hen’s jaw was practically on the floor. Chimney was clutching the Cosmo magazine to his chest like a protective shield.
And Buck...
Buck looked like his brain had completely short circuited. His blue eyes were blown wide, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly like a fish on dry land. He was flushed completely red from his collar to his hairline.
Eddie swallowed his bite of sandwich. He frowned, looking at his frozen, gaping family. "What?" he asked, his voice slightly muffled.
Buck let out a strangled noise. He dropped the dish towel onto the floor. "Did you..." Buck's voice cracked, jumping in volume. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Did you just come out? And say you love me? While making a sandwich?!"
Eddie looked at the sandwich in his hand, then back to Buck. He looked genuinely confused. "Well, yeah. Like it's much of a secret." He gestured vaguely to the rest of the room. "I mean... you all knew, right?"
Hen closed her mouth. She looked at Bobby. Slowly, she nodded.
"We knew, Eddie," Bobby said gently, recovering from his shock with a fond, exasperated smile. "We've known for a while."
"Yeah, man," Chimney breathed out, tossing the magazine back onto the table. "We just didn't think you knew."
Eddie felt a sudden wave of affection for the absolute lunatics he worked with. He raised his half eaten sandwich in the air, pointing it toward the magazine on the table in a makeshift toast. "Thank you, Cosmo."
Buck let out a breathless, borderline hysterical laugh.
The shock was melting off Buck's face, replaced rapidly by pure joy. The resignation Buck had carried for years, the belief that he would only ever be Eddie's friend, shattered completely, leaving behind a kind of hope.
Buck didn't say anything else. He didn't need to. He crossed the kitchen in two massive strides.
Eddie barely had time to put his sandwich down on the counter before Buck’s hands were on him. One hand gripped the collar of Eddie's shirt, the other tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and Buck pulled him in.
The kiss was messy, enthusiastic. It was a collision of years of pent up longing, unspoken words, and absolute, undeniable relief. Eddie’s hands found Buck’s waist instantly, pulling him flush against his chest, kissing him back with everything he had. It felt like coming home. It felt like the easiest thing in the world.
In the background, Chimney groaned loudly. "Okay, gross! Not in the kitchen!"
"Leave them alone, Chim!" Hen cheered, clapping her hands. "It's about damn time!"
Buck pulled back, though he didn't go far. He rested his forehead against Eddie's, both of them breathing heavily, both of them smiling like absolute idiots. Buck’s eyes were shining, full of so much love that it made Eddie's chest ache in the best possible way.
"I love you, and I am buying you a ten year subscription," Buck whispered, his voice thick with emotion and laughter. He pressed a quick, fierce kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth. "Because...Fucken Thank You, Cosmo."
Eddie laughed, letting his head fall back, his hands squeezing Buck's hips securely. The anxiety, the repression, the years of confusion, they were all gone, replaced by the warm, solid reality of the man standing in front of him.
"I love you too, Buck," Eddie smiled softly. "Now, let me finish my sandwich. We have Cosmo to read."
Buck beamed, leaning in to kiss him again, completely ignoring the sound of Bobby threatening to hit them both with his spatula.
Eddie decided right then and there, he was never, ever cancelling that subscription.