Archive of Our Own

Every season is soup season if you're Evan Buckley. 

Soup is a staple. It's reliable, it's versatile. It can be simple or complex depending on the recipe. In short, it can be anything he needs it to be. 

Tonight, Buck is making lasagna soup. It's not exactly a complicated dish, but there are several necessary steps. It requires focus. Involvement. It’s the kind of meal that ensures that Buck will be fully immersed in the cooking process. 

He gets dinner started as soon as they're home from their shift. Eddie, Chris, and Theo are in the living room getting Christopher's Switch hooked up to Buck's TV so that Chris and Theo can play Mario Kart; which actually means that Chris will play Mario Kart against a computer while Theo holds onto an inactive remote and has the time of his life because no matter how chaotically he chooses to steer, his car never goes off the track. 

Buck is cutting vegetables with single-minded precision. The cubes of butternut squash are exactly the same size, one inch across. He dices the bell peppers a little smaller, also perfectly uniform. He's slicing Roma tomatoes into careful quarters when Eddie walks in, hands on his hips, looking accomplished. 

"Kids are all set up," he announces, rolling up his shirt sleeves. 

Buck grunts in acknowledgement and reaches for the decanter of olive oil. He drizzles it over the pan full of chopped veggies while Eddie washes his hands and refuses to let himself acknowledge the way the tendons flex in Eddie’s forearms while he scrubs in the soap.

"Whatcha making?" Eddie asks, grabbing the nearest dish towel and twisting it between his hands while he dries them. His big brown eyes are fixed on Buck.

"Soup," Buck answers shortly, and transfers the pan to the oven. 

He deliberates over how long to set the timer for. He's not doing a full roast, they'll finish cooking when he adds them to the broth later. His fingers hover over the buttons indecisively. He wishes Eddie would stop looking at him. It's making him feel all twitchy. Twenty minutes feels right so Buck punches it in, hits start, and turns back to the cutting board. 

"What kind of soup?" Eddie hasn't set down the towel, he's twirling it around and around between clenched fists like he's attempting to make one of those fancy towel swans they give you on high-end cruise ships. 

"Lasagna." Buck roughly chops off the end of an onion and starts peeling it. 

"That's a whole different dish," Eddie points out, slowly strangling the neck of the swan. The veins on the back of his hands pop to the surface which Buck reminds himself isn't any of his business. 

"It's a soup," Buck confirms. His eyes start to water as his knife slides through the onion's flesh. He sniffles loudly and wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve. "Theo likes it better in soup form." 

"Right." Eddie nods once and relinquishes his death-grip on the towel, shaking it out and hanging it back up.

Tears now streaming down his face, Buck continues determinedly dicing the onion. He tosses it into the large stoneware pot already heating on the stove and starts on the garlic cloves, mincing them even tinier. 

Eddie grabs the paper-wrapped baguette from the counter beside the coffee maker and slides the wooden cutting board onto the island across from Buck. 

"Are you giving me the silent treatment?" Eddie inquires mildly as he retrieves a long, serrated knife from the block beside the stove. 

"I just told you we were having soup." Buck throws the garlic into the pot, grabs a spatula and starts stirring swiftly. 

"Are you giving me the silent treatment about anything not dinner related?" Eddie rephrases. He slips the baguette out of its crinkly paper bag and cuts off the heel, which he hands to Buck, conveniently giving him an excuse to delay his response. 

"No," Buck says eventually, a long time after he's finished chewing. He opens the cupboard and starts rooting through the spice rack. 

"Did you want me to start asking questions then?" Eddie offers, pulling open a drawer and taking out a baking sheet. He snags the tinfoil off the counter on his way back to the island. 

"Eddie," Buck sighs, knocking two spice jars together and cringing at the sound of clinking glass. 

“What?” 

"I wasn't obligated to tell you." 

"I never said you were." Eddie rolls out a length of tinfoil and measures it against the size of the pan before ripping it off forcefully. 

"Then why is it a big deal?" Buck asks, recapping the garlic powder and sliding it across to Eddie who catches it without having to look. 

"It’s not." Eddie shakes his head dismissively, and reaches for the butter dish which Buck is already holding out for him to take. "But you're being cagey." 

"I'm not being cagey," Buck deflects, adding oregano to the pot and giving it a sniff. "I just don't want to talk about my ex." 

"When did I say I did?" Eddie asks, bristling at the suggestion. 

He crosses over to the fridge, rifling through the shelves until he finds the fresh herbs. Eddie sets a bundle of chives down beside his own cutting board and hands Buck a container of basil. 

"You didn't say it." Buck accepts the basil with a grateful nod and grabs the kitchen shears. "But your behaviour is heavily implying that you do." 

Eddie scoffs and opens the cupboard beside the sink. He takes down two bowls - a larger white china one and a smaller glass one - and sets them on the counter. He pauses to push his hair out of his face. A wayward strand instantly falls across his forehead. 

"You’re the one that brought it up,” Buck reminds him. 

Technically Ravi is the one that brought it up. 

Earlier this afternoon, during a lull between calls, he’d dropped the bomb that Buck had met up with Tommy during Eddie’s stint away in Texas. Ravi had been using this to prove his point about what a great wingman he is and why Eddie should go out with one of the new members on his frolf team. The anecdote had not landed well with either Buck or Eddie and the energy between them has been off ever since.

"I think I have a right to be curious.” Eddie's nostrils flare slightly as he starts scooping butter into the bigger bowl first. "You are my best friend." 

Buck sets his jaw and starts trimming basil leaves into neat little ribbons, letting them fall into a pile on the corner of his cutting board. 

"So I'm assuming you went to his," Eddie goes on, like he's daring Buck to disagree. "Seeing as you were living in my house at the time."

"Well." Buck clears his throat. 

Eddie's eyes snap to him, hand suspended above the butter dish, fingers wrapped tightly around the spoon. 

"My bedroom?" Eddie's eyes go wide with horror and his whole face scrunches in disgust. "Seriously, Buck?"

"It wasn't your bedroom at the time!" Buck argues. He adds a generous pinch of fresh basil to the pot and resumes his spirited stirring. 

"My bedroom," Eddie reiterates stubbornly. The flaring of his nostrils is no longer subtle. 

"Yes, sure, fine," Buck agrees impatiently. "Your bedroom. Whatever." 

"Whatever," Eddie repeats, shaking his head in disbelief. He starts scooping butter again and the edge of the spoon clinks loudly against the porcelain dish. 

"And now you're being pissy," Buck observes. He pokes at the onions with the edge of his spatula, determines that they're acceptably soft, and opens the waiting tetra of broth beside the stove. 

"You hooked up with Thomas Kinard in my bedroom and you expect me to be happy about it?" Eddie demands. He drops his spoon into the smaller of the two bowls and grabs the garlic salt. 

"I never said you needed to be happy about it," Buck replies evenly, shaking out the last few drops of broth into the pot. 

He really isn't sure why this matters so much to Eddie. Buck, of course, is burdened with the horrible knowledge of what transpired the morning after, but to Eddie this shouldn’t mean anything more than Buck having an ill-advised hookup. Nothing he hasn't done before. 

"Good." Eddie says with a sniff, picking up his knife again and descending on the baguette with renewed fervour. "Because I'm not."

"Why do you even care?" Buck huffs, fitting the can opener against the lip of a can of tomato puree and starting to turn it. "It's not like I didn't have my own mattress. For all intents and purposes, the house was mine. Your room didn't get, like, defiled or something if that's what you're so wound up about." 

The noise Eddie makes in response is highly sceptical. "I don't care about that.” The edge of the blade thumps heavily against the wooden cutting board as Eddie sections off the bread into increasingly uneven slices. "It's the principle."

"What principle?” Buck asks, baffled and a little annoyed. Eddie’s just making up rules to the bro code now. “Was there a clause in the lease somewhere about not being allowed to sleep with people in the master bedroom?" 

Eddie ignores him. "I just don't understand why Ravi gets to know about it when you never mentioned it to me." 

"It’s not like I told Ravi. He orchestrated the whole thing," Buck replies sharply. "Besides, why would I tell you when you clearly find it so upsetting?” 

"I'm not upset.” Eddie scowls as he arranges the baguette slices on the pan. "I'm surprised because I thought we were best friends and we told each other important things." 

"It wasn't important!" Buck argues, shaking the can of tomato puree into the pot more vigorously than he intended and splashing onto his t-shirt. "Shit," he mutters, wiping his finger across the fabric, smearing the splatter around. It looks a little like a bloodstain, which is fitting, Buck supposes, since he suddenly feels like he's on trial for a crime he only sort of committed. 

Eddie wordlessly wets the dish towel and hands it to him. "It was important enough to hide from me," he points out, an annoyingly smug expression on his face. 

Buck groans and scrubs at the rapidly forming stain above his bellybutton. "I wasn't hiding anything. It just wasn't worth recounting."

"Which begs the question of why you did it in the first place,” Eddie mutters, snatching the pair of kitchen shears off of Buck's cutting board before returning to his own. He picks up the bundle of chives and starts chopping them into the larger bowl of garlic butter. "I heard you say some pretty choice words about his lack of skills in the bedroom after the two of you broke up, so I don't understand why you'd want to go back for more." 

"I didn't-" Buck shakes his head, exasperated. "Eddie, come on, that's not what it was like. I didn’t call the guy." 

"Then what was it like?" Eddie deadpans, chin tilted up in something an awful lot like defiance. 

Buck releases a slow breath through his nose and crosses over to the pantry. "Ravi and I went out drinking a few days after you left," he recounts impatiently, taking a box of pasta off the shelf. "Ravi was getting tired of me, saw Tommy at the bar, and pawned me off on him so he could make his exit. That's it. I was drunk and it was late. We talked and one thing led to another... It's not like I'd been waiting around for the opportunity." 

"Alright." Eddie nods slowly, accepting this new information. He stirs the chives into the butter, brows furrowed in consideration. "Let me get this straight. You had a drunken, embarrassing, unplanned, and presumably wildly underwhelming backslide with your ex and your first instinct wasn't to call me and complain about it the next day?" 

"You were busy!" Buck protests defensively. "I talked to Maddie." 

"What," Eddie snorts. "Cause you knew she wouldn't roast you and I would?" 

Buck shakes his head and empties the box of pasta into the simmering pot. "Something like that." 

Eddie's quiet for long enough that Buck starts to think he's in the clear. Maybe he's been spiraling over nothing all day. Maybe this is nothing more than Eddie making a big deal because he wanted the chance to shit talk one of Buck's exes and lost out on the opportunity to do so in a timely fashion. 

"Come on," Eddie continues once Buck has been successfully lulled into a false sense of security. He's lathering garlic butter onto the bread now and watching Buck with a dangerously knowing glint in his eye. "There must be more to it than that or you wouldn't be acting so secretive. What else happened?" 

"Nothing," Buck insists with a frustrated groan. He walks over to the sink and turns on the faucet, swinging the tap over to cold. He leans over and pulls his shirt away from his body to run the cool water over the remnants of tomato still stubbornly clinging to the fabric. 

He isn't sure why he’s so hesitant to tell Eddie about what happened between him and Tommy the morning after. It's not like there was any truth to anything Tommy said. Eddie of all people would be able to laugh it off. In fact, he'd probably love another excuse to call Tommy insecure - one of his favourite insults to throw around after he dumped Buck. 

"Buck." Eddie sets down his bread and his spoon. He rests his hands on his hips and gives Buck the kind of look he directs at Christopher when he asks for more screentime on a school night. "Come on." 

"Nope," Buck stands his ground. He shuts off the tap and squeezes his shirt out into the sink. There's still a faint reddish tinge to the fabric and now half of his tee is totally drenched. Great, not only does he feel like an idiot, he looks like one too. 

"Buck," Eddie says his name again, more entreating this time. He’s using that tone he only employs when he’s trying to talk Buck into revealing something. This tactic has, regrettably, never failed him. "It's me." Eddie's eyes go big and liquid soft in the early evening light that permeates the kitchen. 

"Fine." Buck throws up his hands. "Fine, Eddie, you wanna hear about how my ex accused me of being in love with you, called you the 'competition,' and pretty much admitted to that being the reason he broke up with me in the first place? Is that what you want to hear?" 

Eddie opens his mouth. He closes it. He looks uselessly down at his hands still glued to his hips. He removes them one at a time, like the gesture takes an overwhelming amount of effort, and returns to buttering the bread. Aggressively. 

It's a good thing baguettes are so tough because any loaf with less structural integrity wouldn't stand a chance. 

"Eddie?" Buck ventures tentatively after a moment of unbearable silence has stretched too thin between them. He hangs back beside the sink, struggling to recall the next step in the recipe. It's got to be something cheese related but Buck can't bring himself to reach for his phone to find out. His eyes are glued to Eddie’s stony side-profile. 

For several more seconds, Eddie doesn't say anything at all. His jaw works silently, a muscle twitching near his temple, his hands flying. 

"Competition," Eddie repeats under his breath, shaking his head. He doesn't look at Buck, he just scowls down at his spoon and vigorously smears another healthy glob of chive-infused garlic butter onto an unsuspecting section of baguette. 

"I told him he was way out of line," Buck assures him, anxiety building as Eddie's expression only becomes more and more pinched. "He had no idea what he was talking about." 

"Clearly." Eddie snorts derisively. "It's laughable for him to think that he could ever compare to what we have." 

Buck stops. He blinks. He stares. Eddie sets down his piece of bread and picks up a new one. He doles out butter from the smaller bowl this time, the one without the chives added, and Buck belatedly realizes that Eddie made a separate portion of garlic butter just for Theo because he 'doesn't like the little green things.' 

It hits him harder than it should. That quiet consideration. The simple fact that Eddie has already adapted to accommodating Theo like it’s second nature. Buck turns back to the stove before remembering he doesn’t have any idea what step of the recipe he’s supposed to be on next. 

"I said something similar to Maddie actually," Buck admits quietly. 

"Yeah?" Eddie’s voice isn’t much more than a whisper in response. 

"Yeah." Buck swallows and nods but doesn't elaborate. He slides his phone out of his pocket and opens the tab with the recipe for lasagna soup. 

While Buck retrieves a tub of ricotta and a block of Parmesan from the fridge, Eddie is silent. When he turns back around, Eddie's finished buttering all of the bread and he's standing with his arms crossed, hip leaning against the counter, watching Buck intently. 

"What was Maddie's take on the whole thing?" Eddie asks casually, and if Buck didn't know him better, he'd think that he was actually as indifferent as he's trying to sound. He isn't. Eddie’s voice only takes on that particular cadence when he cares very much about something and is pretending that he doesn't. 

"Uh." 

‘It wouldn’t be so crazy.’ 

‘Yes, it would,’ Buck firmly tells the imaginary Maddie in his head. 

"Not much,” Buck says aloud, shrugging. “I mostly just ranted to her about how stupid all of the stuff he said was and how it pissed me off." 

"Okay." Eddie nods. He gathers up his dishes and walks them to the sink. "So-" Eddie clears his throat and pushes his left sleeve back up since it's started creeping back down from where he folded it above his elbow. "So what exactly did you tell her?" 

"I just, um, I said that I could understand him being threatened by what you and I have but that it's obviously not like that between us." Buck picks up the package of ricotta and digs his nail under the lid to pop open the plastic seal. "And, I mean," he hesitates, on the verge of admitting a fact that he usually tries to skirt around, "I missed you when you were in Texas." He doesn't dare to meet Eddie's eyes. "I hated that he seemed so happy you were gone." 

"What a dick," Eddie huffs. "You know, I have half a mind to unblock his number and let him know just how out of line he was." 

"You-" Buck looks up, startled. "You blocked his number?" 

"Of course. He dumped you," Eddie says, like it was the obvious course of action. "Why wouldn't I?" 

Buck frowns. "Because you were friends before that?"

Eddie makes a face. "Acquaintances at best." 

"Really?" Buck raises his eyebrows doubtfully. He hasn't forgotten the series of events that led him to discovering his bisexuality. A series of events which heavily featured Eddie abandoning him to spend time with Tommy instead. 

"Yeah," Eddie maintains firmly. "I found out pretty quickly that we didn't actually have all that much in common. I mean, we liked the same sports and stuff, but when it came to what mattered, our priorities were pretty different." 

"Your priorities?" Buck repeats, puzzled. He finds it hard to imagine Tommy and Eddie discussing anything of substance. Even with Buck, who's been his best friend for most of a decade, Eddie isn't overly forthcoming when it comes to discussing things he feels deeply about. 

"Yes." Eddie nods sharply. "Mainly you." 

"Me?" 

"He texted me a handful of times after you two got together," Eddie admits. "Asking for," he purses his lips like he's just tasted something bitter, "advice." 

"On what?" Buck asks with apprehension. 

Eddie grimaces. "On how to 'handle' you." 

Something uncomfortable and ashamed worms its way through Buck's gut. He fidgets with the side of the cheese container and shrinks back into the corner of the counter. 

"Oh," Buck breathes. 

"I tried to be understanding when it started," Eddie begins haltingly. "You seemed to really like the guy and I wanted to be supportive. At first he just asked me about what type of stuff I thought you might like to do for dates, that sort of thing.”

"And after that?" Buck asks, dreading the answer. 

"After that." Eddie sets his jaw, his eyes flashing with cold resentment as he recollects. "After that he started getting weird with it. He'd let me know if you two’d had an argument, try to get me to tell him how to get back on your good side. Asked me what kind of 'strategies' I used. It was invasive and disrespectful and I told him to knock it off. And, look, Buck, I'm sorry you were hurt when he broke things off, but I was so relieved when you split up that I instantly blocked his number. I couldn't stand him by the end." 

It's a lot to absorb. The revelation that his ex-boyfriend was hitting up his best friend for relationship advice because he thought that Buck wasn't worth the effort to bother figuring out for himself makes him feel vaguely sick. Buck is used to being too much for most people, especially his significant others, but it still stings to be reminded of it quite so viscerally.  

"I'm sorry," Eddie offers sympathetically. "I never told you because it didn't feel like something I needed to bother you with. I didn't want you to get all in your head and self-conscious just because he didn’t know how to act like a grown up." 

"No, yeah." Buck straightens up, clearing his throat. "I get it." He reaches into the drawer beside the stove and concentrates on selecting a spoon. 

"I hated the way he talked about you," Eddie goes on, undeterred. "Like you were something to be put up with and the way he just assumed that I would agree with him? Fucking unbelievable," he drops his voice on the last few words, ensuring they won't carry to the kids in the next room. 

"Wouldn't blame you if you did," Buck mutters, scooping ricotta into the bubbling pot of soup and stirring it around. 

"Buck." 

Buck doesn't look up. He sets the lid on the soup, turns down the heat, and leaves it to simmer. He looks at the clock, noting that the vegetables will be out of the oven soon. Maybe he should check them earlier. Theo loves to complain when things are mushy. 

"Hey." Eddie's hand lands on his shoulder without warning, his thumb pressing in above Buck's collarbone, firm and steady. 

Reluctantly, Buck meets his eye. 

"Of course I don't think that,” Eddie says earnestly. “I don't know how many times I have to say it but you are my best friend. You've never been a burden to me, even when we're arguing and you're pissing me off, I still want- I still care about you, Buck. I have never seen you as some sort of problem I have to solve. In fact, you," Eddie cuts himself off and lets out a sharp exhale. "God, Buck, so many of my problems would be so much bigger without you. You're so- I meant what I said before I left." Eddie's grip tightens on Buck's shoulder and he stares steadily into Buck's eyes. "I don't know what I'd do without you." 

"Thanks," Buck mumbles, feeling uncomfortably warm all over. As someone who thrives on praise, he never knows quite what to do with himself when Eddie pays him a genuine compliment. It feels too big somehow. Like an admission of something that shouldn't be acknowledged between them. Like something Buck doesn’t deserve to hold. 

"I'm not mad that you slept with Tommy," Eddie relents, finally dropping both his hand and Buck's gaze, as he turns away. "I'm just mad that he existed in your life at all and I don't like that he said something insensitive that made you doubt yourself. You don't deserve that. And quite frankly, he doesn't deserve you. Even for a night. Even as a meaningless reckless decision. He shouldn't get to-" Eddie shakes his head, hands clenching into fists at his sides. "He just shouldn't. Period."

Buck snorts softly and shakes his head. "C'mon, you're a little mad I didn't tell you about it though," he pushes, injecting a teasing note into his voice, trying to lighten the mood. 

Eddie shrugs. "I'm not mad. I'm disappointed maybe, or confused, I guess. I want you to feel like you can tell me things." 

"I do tell," Buck promises. All of the annoyance he felt at the beginning of the conversation has entirely bled away now. "I share everything that matters with you. I mean it. And what happened with Tommy didn't." 

"Alright," Eddie assents, nodding his head. He wipes his hands off on his pants. "That's that then." 

"Right," Buck agrees, still feeling inexplicably guilty right down to his core. He brushes the feeling aside and picks up the Parmesan. 

If Eddie says it's alright, then it's alright. Buck just wishes he didn't still feel so terrible about the whole thing. 

There's something about it all that feels off - the conversation with Tommy, with Maddie, the way he'd kept it all from Eddie, the abject horror he'd been struck with this afternoon when Ravi alluded to it. Talking to Eddie hasn't eased the discomfort that's been growing in Buck's mind for months. Instead, it seems only to have solidified it. 

They finish making dinner in relative silence. Eddie sets the table and makes a salad while Buck finishes preparing the rest of the meal. He calls the boys to the table while Buck doles out the soup into bowls, piling them high with grated Parmesan and fresh basil, save for Theo's bowl which is left unsullied by 'little green things.' 

Eddie slots into his seat at the head of the table, Buck at his left side, with Christopher at his right and Theo beside him, who’s already talking a mile a minute about their last round of Mario Kart. 

"And then Chris got the magic turtle shell and it knocked everyone out of the way so he could win the race and he told me he'll show me how to do it next time!" Theo recounts excitedly, wriggling in his chair as he does so. 

"That's pretty cool," Eddie comments warmly, his eyes crinkling up in a fond, indulgent smile. 

"It was blue and had spikes all over it and it looked so awesome," Theo goes on, shoving garlic bread into his mouth without taking a breather. "I wish real turtles had shells like that,” he declares emphatically, showering the table with crumbs. 

"Gotta close your mouth when you're chewing, buddy," Buck reminds him gently. 

Theo pouts but acquiesces. 

"Some turtles do have spiky shells," Christopher provides conversationally. "They're called snapping turtles and they can get really big." 

Theo's eyes grow wide as he looks at Christopher. "Really?" 

"Yup." Chris nods. "There's one at the zoo. I'll show it to you next time we go." 

"Wow." Theo gazes at him in awe, like Christopher has just promised him the greatest gift in the world. 

It makes Buck's chest brim with pride. He'd known that Chris would be good with Theo, but seeing just how well the two of them get along always touches his heart. 

"We should go soon," suggests Eddie, a little distractedly as he serves salad onto Theo's suspiciously salad-free plate. "Our pass is about to run out. We need to renew the membership next month. Right, Buck?" 

Buck sits up a little straighter. "I, uh, yeah. I think so." 

They've shared a zoo pass for ages - it just made sense to sign up as a family when Christopher was younger and save themselves an additional fee - Buck isn't sure why it hits him as strange today. 

"Good." Eddie nods thoughtfully. "Then we'll be able to add Theo on too. Do you think we should get a guest pass so you can bring Jee more often?" 

Buck blinks a couple of times as his eyes prickle with unexpected heat. Eddie isn't even doing anything. He's just being Eddie. Kind, considerate, prepared Eddie. Who knows that Buck likes to bring his niece on zoo days and that it’s easier to keep Theo entertained when he has someone around his own age to keep him company. Buck never has to ask for anything when it comes to Eddie because somehow, whatever he needs has already been offered. It feels significant in a way that Buck is not willing to face. 

"I like playing with Jee," Theo announces happily before shoving more bread into his mouth. 

"Sure," Buck tells Eddie quietly, eyes trained on his dinner. "Good idea." 

Eddie nods again, satisfied with Buck's agreement.  

"This is really good soup, Buck," Chris tells him, already reaching across the table to help himself to another ladle full before his bowl is even halfway finished. 

"Thanks." Buck smiles, genuinely happy to hear it. He always wants his culinary endeavours to be a success with the Diaz boys. Though he has a creeping suspicion that Eddie tells Buck he loves everything he makes on default and that Christopher is under strict instructions to follow suit. 

"This is good bread, Buck," Theo says, clearly copying Chris. 

"Eddie made it." 

Theo turns to Eddie instead. "This is good bread, Eddie." 

"Thanks, bud. Why don't you try some salad?" Eddie suggests, a twinkle in his eye as he throws a conspiratorial glance in Buck's direction. "I made that too." 

Theo sets upon his greens with enthusiasm at this revelation. "Wow," he says appreciatively, a large lettuce leaf sticking out of his mouth. "This is good too." 

"Close your mouth," Buck and Eddie say at the same time. 

Christopher snorts into his soup. 

Later, when dinner is put away, the kitchen is clean, and Theo is asleep in bed - after multiple stories from both Buck and Eddie - Buck ducks into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and a soda from the fridge. 

He delivers the can of pop to Christopher, who's set up at the dining room table doing homework with his headphones fitted snugly over his ears and a look of determined concentration on his face. Buck doesn't mean to disrupt him, but Chris looks up when he sets the drink down. 

"Thanks." 

"It's not low-sugar. Don't tell your dad," Buck whispers, nudging his shoulder. 

Chris grins at him and happily accepts his contraband. 

Eddie is always going on about cavity risks and how Christopher needs to look after his teeth with extra diligence now that he's had braces, but Buck and Chris agree that regular soda just tastes better. And what Eddie doesn't know can't hurt his dental insurance. Or however the saying goes. 

Outside, Eddie's already taken the chair closest to the lawn on the patio, leaving the seat across the table beside the door free for Buck, lest he need to jump up and attend to Theo. 

"Here." Buck offers Eddie one of the beers. 

"Thanks." Eddie twists off the cap and takes a leisurely drink. 

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. Eddie's posture is loose and relaxed where he sits, toeing absently at a crack in the pavement while he gazes out distantly into the garden. 

Buck wonders what he's thinking about, and if he's still dwelling on their conversation from before dinner. Personally, Buck is trying to think about it as little as possible. He's failing miserably, but at least he's trying.

"What do we have?" Eddie asks eventually, swinging his gaze over to Buck. 

"What?" Buck rolls his shoulders back, posture stiffening. 

"You told Maddie that you could understand Tommy being threatened by what we have," Eddie says slowly. "So I just wondered what that is?" 

"A friendship," Buck answers with succinct finality. He takes a large swig of beer and accredits the burning in his throat to the alcohol. 

For the second time in his life, Buck feels that friendship is too reductive a term to encompass what he and Eddie have. Not even adding the caveat of 'best friend' could accurately convey the weight of the connection they share. 

Back in New Mexico, he'd told Bonnie that Eddie was his friend, but all he can remember thinking in his confused and fevered state was 'he's the most important person in my life.' 

And maybe, if he stops for a minute and really looks at it, that's a lot to ask any potential significant other to measure up to. But Buck isn't asking. What Tommy had been wrong about was thinking there was a chance to compare. That would infer that there's some question about it, some other place available on the podium. There isn't. There's no bronze medal or golden trophy to be awarded here. There's just Eddie, and his silver star. 

For Buck, his ranking system goes, Eddie, then everyone else. Eddie's already lapped the track while all the other contestants are still stuck behind the starting line, waiting for a gunshot that will never go off. Maybe there's a reason Buck's always thought that he's the fastest runner. 

"Why would you understand that?" Eddie's voice pulls Buck from his contemplation. He's still staring at Buck, face scrunched in confusion. 

"What?" Buck asks dumbly. 

"Why would you understand him being jealous of our friendship? I don't think that's normal," Eddie muses, lifting his beer to his lips before setting it down on the table. 

'Because it's not normal!' Buck wants to shout. He wants to grab Eddie by the shoulders and shake him until he can see all the things that Buck's been so cruelly forced to become aware of. Nothing about their friendship is normal. He’s starting to doubt if it ever has been. Certainly the longer it goes on, the more inexcusable it becomes. 

"Friends don't share zoo passes," Buck starts with because it's the first thing he can think of. 

Eddie's lips pull down in a frown. "We've always shared a zoo pass." 

"I know," Buck agrees. "But most friends don't." 

"The family rate was cheaper," Eddie says a little defensively. "We agreed it was a good deal." 

"I know, and it was," Buck affirms. "I'm just saying that it's not normal." 

"Okay." Eddie nods slowly, eyebrows pinched. "Are we supposed to suddenly give a fuck about what's normal or just keep doing what works for us?" 

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Buck replies evenly. "I'm just saying that's why I get it." 

Eddie's frown deepens and he crosses his arms, clearly deep in thought. "I don't see the problem," he decides after a moment. 

"You made separate garlic bread for Theo," Buck pivots, his free hand clenching into a fist against his thigh. 

"Well, yeah." Eddie looks utterly lost now. "He doesn't like it when-"

"There's little green things, I know." Buck waves him off. "But that's my point. You shouldn't know that. I should have to remind you or something!" 

Eddie shakes his head, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "You're upset that I know what foods your kid is picky about?" he asks flatly. 

"I'm not upset. It's just weird for you to know stuff like that." 

"Why?" 

"Because you're not my-" Buck snaps his mouth shut. Horrified. 

"Your what?" 

"Nothing." Buck shakes his head. 

Partner? Boyfriend? Spouse?

Buck has no idea how he was going to end that sentence, but any outcome would have been disastrous. He takes another hasty gulp of beer, hoping to wash away the confession that nearly slipped out. 

"No, come on, tell me." Eddie leans closer. 

"Nope." Buck shakes his head more adamantly. "It was nothing." 

"Bullshit." Eddie narrows his eyes. 

"It was!" Buck insists. "I didn't even mean to say it." 

"Well you didn't say it," Eddie points out. "Technically. And I think you should." 

"No." It's Buck's turn to set down his beer and cross his arms. 

"Just spit it out, Buckley," Eddie urges, exuding agitation. "Either we can talk around this for another two hours or you can tell me what the actual problem is and we can sort it out." 

"Yeah, okay." Buck sets his hands on his knees and pushes to his feet. "Alright, Eddie. Let's do this. But remember, you asked.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and gestures for Buck to continue. 

"You and me." Buck points at himself and then Eddie. "Are not normal." 

"Okay," Eddie snorts softly. "So what? Who is normal?" 

"No." Buck shakes his head. "I don't mean as people. I mean about each other." 

Eddie's expression sobers. His hands drop and he twists them together in his lap. 

"I come back to my house after running errands and I find you already here mowing my lawn, or I wake up in the mornings and you're here making coffee, or you wake up to find me in your kitchen making pancakes. Half of the clothes I buy find their way into your closet. Sometimes I trip over my own feet when I'm getting dressed in the morning because I accidentally grabbed a pair of your jeans out of my dresser." 

The more things he lists, the higher Buck's voice climbs. His words are fraught with accusation and semi-hysterical panic. He never lets himself dwell on any of these things. If he did, he’d never stay sane. But Eddie’s asked for this. He wants to know. And like Eve in the garden, Buck is unable to stop himself from sharing the shame of this forbidden knowledge with his only companion. 

Eddie simply stares back at him, wide-eyed and unblinking. Buck can't read the emotion on his face, but now that he's started talking, he isn’t able to stop for long enough to parse it out. All of the tiny, little things that have built in the back of his mind for months come pouring out. 

"I go to the coffee shop down the street and they don't even ask for my order anymore. They just give me two drinks - one is my regular and the other is yours - you don't even have to be there! They just assume I'm picking up for you too." Buck starts to pace. "Your neighbour came up to me and asked if I could move your truck during that block party last week. There is a set of Theo's bath toys in your bathroom. Christopher's PS5 is in my living room because I have a bigger TV." 

Slowly, Eddie stands up. Buck ignores him and keeps pacing, getting more and more worked up with every new addition. 

"We don't even get separate invites to things anymore! Athena called me last week to ask about 'our' schedule before she set a date for the barbecue. We are a unit, Eddie. A set. Everyone looks at us and sees a duo. We aren't even partners at work anymore, but did you know that Chim asked me if we would be willing to pick up an extra shift? Not me, not you, we, Eddie." 

"Okay. I get it." Eddie holds out a reassuring hand, but Buck bats him away. 

"I don't think you do!" 

"You're concerned that people perceive us as a couple,” Eddie recounts calmly. “It's fine if that bothers you, we can set the record straight." 

"No, no. The problem isn't that people see us that way, I don't really care what people think,” Buck clarifies. “The problem is that we act like it and I don't know what I'm supposed to do with that when you're-" 

"What?" Eddie shoots back a little sharply. "When I'm what?" 

"Straight." Buck deflates on an exhale. He covers his eyes with one hand and scrubs it tiredly across his face. "You're not the person I'm supposed to have all of this with." Buck motions back at the house and then between them, encompassing the entirety of the life they share. 

"You don't want this?" Eddie asks quietly, voice wavering. His eyes go softer now, maybe even a little sad as he gazes back at Buck. "I know it's a little unconventional," he starts, like he’s trying to plead his case. "But we built this. Together. This life. This family. It's- I know it's not what other people have but it's ours. I thought- I mean, we've got a good thing going, don't we?" 

"We do," Buck answers honestly. He isn't sure why it hurts so badly to admit the truth. "I just- it gets confusing." 

"For who?" Eddie tilts his head to one side inquisitively. "For the kids? For the people who see us out in public and make assumptions? For your shitty ex-boyfriend who couldn't wrap his head around the concept of two people genuinely caring about each other if it slapped him in the face?" 

"For me," Buck breathes, eyes unwaveringly fixed on the pavement beneath his feet. "It gets confusing for me." A lump forms in his throat and no matter how hard Buck tries to swallow it down, it remains. "Because sometimes I look at you or I listen to the way you speak to Chris or Theo and my mind starts playing tricks on me. I start thinking all of these crazy things that I have no right to think."

"Like what?" 

"Like I don't want you to go home anymore - or I don't want to go home anymore - whatever, same difference. Like I come back to my house and I expect to see you here, or I expect to see Chris' homework on my table or Theo's rain jacket by your front door. And I start to think it would be easier to stop keeping any of our stuff separate when half of it's mixed together already. Why not cut down on our overhead,” Buck laughs humourlessly and shakes his head. He knows how ridiculous he’s being. How impossible it would be. 

"We could get a house," Eddie cuts in swiftly. "If that's what you want. It- I'm sure we could make it work." 

"Do you even hear yourself right now?" Buck demands incredulously. 

"I don't know, Buck!” Eddie exclaims, sounding distressed. “I just want to make this better for you. And if living together will do that, then that's okay with me." 

"Yeah," Buck huffs. "Cause living together platonically is really gonna help the whole looking and acting like a couple thing we've got going on." 

"Okay, okay. That was stupid," Eddie back tracks. "I just don't want you to be stressed out about this, or constantly worrying, which I can tell you have been. Tell me what I can do." 

Let me call you something more than my friend, thinks his traitorous mind. Kiss me hello every time I come home, thinks his traitorous heart. Get rid of your bed and share mine, thinks his traitorous dick. 

Buck, of course, doesn't say any of that. He tamps it all back down, angry with himself for even letting himself entertain the notion of asking Eddie for more when he already offers so much of himself to Buck - to their friendship. 

Not to mention Eddie's straight. 

While he might acknowledge the abnormalities in how they operate and would even go so far as to call them a family, Buck knows he doesn't mean it in that way. Eddie doesn't look at their lives and see the same possibilities that Buck sees. He doesn't have to combat the same fears that Buck does. For Eddie, what they have is simple, it’s straightforward, it’s safe. Some aspects of their friendship being a little out of the ordinary isn’t something that eats at him the same way it gnaws at Buck, hollowing him from the inside out. 

Whoever coined the phrase that ignorance is bliss must have been onto something because Buck would trade anything in the world to go back to naively assuming that what he and Eddie have is anything close to the average bond that all best friends share. 

"What do I have to do, Buck?" Eddie pleads. "Just tell me. I'll do it. Whatever it takes."

"You can't," Buck says with utmost confidence. "It's not that simple, Eddie.”

“Why not?”

“You can't change who you are." It’s an unfair thing to say and Buck regrets it almost immediately, but it’s the simple truth. Eddie isn’t capable of changing the nature of their relationship and Buck would never hold that against him. This is his own problem to deal with and he needs to get it under control before it impacts their friendship any further. 

For a moment, Eddie doesn't say anything at all. Buck hadn't realized how close Eddie had drawn in the last few minutes. He still hasn’t looked up, but Eddie's shoes are nearly toe-to-toe with his own. 

Unexpected electricity jumps up Buck's arm when Eddie's fingers lightly brush the back of his hand. 

"I don't think I'd have to change anything," Eddie whispers. He curls two fingers around the edge of Buck's palm, squeezing slightly. "I don't care what people think when they look at us. The only opinion that matters to me about our relationship is yours. I just want you to be comfortable." 

Buck swallows and closes his eyes. This entire scenario is absolutely mortifying. Eddie feels the need to literally hold Buck's hand through explaining that just because he's straight, it doesn't matter to him if other people assume otherwise. In some ludicrous twist of events, Eddie is more concerned about how those types of miscommunications impact Buck's life rather than his own. Eddie’s always been more considerate of Buck’s feelings than he ought to be. 

"It's fine, Eddie. I'll get over it," Buck assures him, knowing it's a lie. "You know how I get once an idea's gotten into my head. It just sticks there for a while until I can shake it and- and I know that's not fair to you. I just- maybe it would be better if we took a little more space from each other for a while until I get my head screwed on straight so I don't keep talking you in the same circles." 

Eddie sighs and drops his hand. "Yeah, okay. If that's what you need." 

It probably is what Buck needs. It's the last thing he wants. 

"But before we do that, could I just-" Eddie hesitates, Buck hears the click of his throat as he swallows. "Please feel free to tell me if I'm totally out of line here. I- maybe I'm reading everything you’ve been saying wrong and this isn't what you meant, but I just- I want you to know that it's an option." 

"What's an option?" Buck doesn't have the chance to look up before two large, strong hands are bracketing either side of his face, cradling his jaw, thumbs smoothing over day-old stubble. Then Eddie slots their mouths together and Buck forgets how to draw breath. 

It's not a very long kiss, maybe a couple of seconds at most. Just enough for Eddie to firmly press his lips to Buck's once before pulling back entirely. 

"That's all," Eddie says, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning back on the balls of his feet. 

Buck doesn't say anything. He's incapable of speaking. Or moving. Or screaming, which he sort of feels like he needs to do. His body is rooted to the spot, silent and solid as a statue.  

"Right. Okay." Eddie nods, a rueful smile paying at his lips. "Space it is." He turns and walks through the patio doors, leaving Buck standing alone in the backyard. 

The panic sets in about twenty-seconds later and Buck races after him. "Eddie!" he calls into the quiet house. 

Eddie's not in the living room. He's not in the dining room either. Buck pokes his head into the kitchen. There’s still no sign of him. Eddie’s shoes and jacket are still by the front door so at the very least he hasn’t vacated the premises. 

"Lose something?" asks Christopher when Buck reappears in the dining room, harried, only a moment after leaving it.

"Your dad?" Buck answers helplessly. 

Chris blinks at him. "He's probably in the bathroom." 

"Right." Buck nods. The one place he didn’t think to check. "Thanks." 

Chris shakes his head, baffled, and plops his headphone back into place. "No problem," he mutters and adds something else under his breath that sounds like 'you're so weird about each other.' 

Buck couldn't agree more. 

"Hey, Eddie?" Buck knocks on the bathroom door. "Can I come in?" 

No answer comes from within, so Buck twists the handle and pushes the door open. 

Sure enough, there's Eddie, standing in front of the sink, looking just about as off-kilter as Buck feels. He's a little bedraggled too, like a lost puppy cowering in a storm drain; several strands of damp hair fall into his face where he's clearly wetted it down. 

"I could have been on the toilet," Eddie says, turning to face Buck and crossing his arms. 

Buck pulls an unimpressed face. "Well you weren't." 

"But I could have been." 

"Stop deflecting." Buck crosses his arms right back. "You kissed me." 

"Yes," Eddie agrees matter-of-factly. "That is something that happened." 

"Why?"  

"Because." 

"That's not an answer." 

"I already told you. I wanted you to know it was on the table,” Eddie reiterates, like he can’t fathom how Buck is failing to see the big picture here.

"Yeah, I got that part,” Buck assures him. “I just don't think I understand exactly what you meant by that." 

"I think I was pretty clear, Buck.”

"And I'm telling you that you weren't." 

Eddie sighs. "You can be so difficult sometimes." 

"I've been told,” Buck agrees stubbornly. “But that's not going to change and you know it, so why don't you spell it out for me?”

"Just that I could kiss you," Eddie begins causally, like he's pitching what TV show they should start on their next set of days off and not completely altering the course of their lives. "Sometimes. If you'd like that." 

"If I'd like that," Buck repeats, not even a little bit convinced that he heard Eddie correctly. 

"Yes." Eddie nods. "But only if that's what you want. Or, we can just keep doing things the way we always have. Up to you, really." He's carefully controlling his tone, not letting any hint of emotion slip in. 

Buck distantly wonders if his best friend has been kidnapped by aliens and some cosmic shapeshifter has inhabited his skin. 

"And the point of that would be what?" Buck asks, dazed. "You kiss me sometimes so that this whole thing feels more..." 

"More like I'm actually your boyfriend and not just acting like it," Eddie articulates helpfully. 

Buck nearly chokes on air. 

And sure, that's the point he's been getting at all night, but hearing Eddie say it out loud is something else entirely. 

"And by actually my boyfriend you mean…" Buck trails off and rubs the back of his neck. 

He wonders what the signs of an alien possession are. Is it still even called a possession if it’s an alien and not a demon? Maybe it’s an invasion. Maybe Eddie’s been invaded. 

"I mean that we would be in a relationship,” Eddie goes on smoothly. “You know, the thing where I let you hog the blankets all night and pretend to be pissed off about it in the morning, and we keep our toothbrushes in the same glass by the sink, and we make dinner across the counter from each other every night, and I stop pretending I don't see it every time you look at my mouth mid-conversation." 

"Right." Buck breathes out shakily. "So, the thing is," his voice cracks. "Straight guys don't really do that stuff with their platonic best friends."

"They don't," Eddie agrees evenly. "Which is probably why me, a gay guy, is suggesting I do that stuff with my non-platonic boyfriend." 

"You, a- a what?" Buck stammers. "I'm sorry, you're what?" 

"Gay. I think. Probably. It's new and Chris keeps talking to me about a spectrum.” Eddie gestures dismissively, like the state of his sexuality is something he’s so comfortable with he can afford to let it slide. “But yeah, I think gay works. For now. For me." 

"Okay." Buck reaches out to grasp the edge of the sink. He sucks in a sharp, shallow breath. His knees go weak. Today is not real. Maybe he’s the one that’s been abducted by aliens. 

"Buck?" 

"Hang on." Buck wheezes. He shuts his eyes tightly to stop the world from spinning quite so rapidly. 

"Buck." Eddie's voice is closer now. "Breathe." 

Buck shakes his head. "Nope. Can't." 

"Hey, it's okay.” Eddie’s voice is firm and grounding. “Just relax." 

Eyes still squeezed shut, Buck shakes his head more vehemently. 

"Can you look at me, at least?" Eddie ventures cautiously. 

And fuck, of course he'll look. Buck's never been able to say no to Eddie. Besides it's a total asshole move to not even look at your best friend of nine years right after they came out to you. 

Buck cracks one eye open and gives Eddie a tentative glance. He isn't sure what he expects to find, but Eddie looks the same as he usually does, if not slightly more damp. 

He's wearing a light grey Henley layered with a navy flannel and snug pair of blue jeans. The dark shade of his over-shirt compliments his eyes, bringing out the depth in them. He looks good, soft, familiar and devastatingly handsome at once, just like he usually does. The latter is not something Buck usually allows himself to notice. For the first time, it dawns on him that Eddie may want him to notice. 

Eddie's watching him back, quiet and expectant and palpably on edge. 

"I don't-" Buck shakes his head. "You can't just get with me because you're gay." 

"What?" Eddie stares blankly at him. 

"You're only offering now because I've been freaking out all day," Buck goes on, knuckles whitening as he grips the sink harder. "That's not a reason to be with me, Eddie." 

"Oh my god." Eddie groans dramatically, burying his face in his hands. "You cannot be serious right now." 

"I am serious,” Buck insists, all sincerity. Eddie being gay doesn’t automatically change the - totally platonic - way he’s always felt about Buck. “I don't want you to date me just because it's convenient." 

"Trust me," Eddie replies sullenly, face still hidden. "This is anything but convenient. I’ve performed in-field blood transfusions that took less effort." 

"So stop!" Buck exclaims, exasperated and confused. "We'll just stay friends. We'll take a step back. Everything will be fine." 

"Sure. Okay. Whatever." Eddie hangs his head, defeat prominent in his tone. "If that's what you want." 

"Of course it's not what I want!" Buck explodes. "But I also don't want you to be my boyfriend out of some weird sense of obligation!" 

"You,” Eddie finally looks up. He points his finger at Buck’s chest. “Are impossible. You are genuinely the most frustrating person I have ever met." 

"Then why did you offer in the first place?" Buck challenges, feeling smug and sort of devastating to be seemingly winning this argument. He's finally backed Eddie into a corner where he has to admit that he never really wanted this. 

"I don't know, Buck," Eddie puts extra emphasis on the 'ck'. "What reason do most people have for getting into a relationship?"

"I- well that- that's subjective," Buck deflects. "There are lots of reasons nowadays. It's 2026. I mean, some partnerships aren't even..." he trails off when Eddie closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath. 

"Buck," Eddie repeats his name, softer this time. He opens his eyes and refocuses his gaze on Buck's face, determined and intense. "I am in love with you. That's why I offered to be your boyfriend." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah, so." Eddie shifts uncomfortably. "You can take it or leave it. I know you wanted us to figure out how to act like normal best friends or whatever and this makes that... complicated. But I'm willing to-" 

The rest of Eddie's rambling gets lost somewhere against Buck's lips. His body, apparently having caught up before the rest of him, had moved of its own accord to drag Eddie into a firm, fervent kiss. 

Eddie makes a muffled, indignant sound at being interrupted but Buck swallows it down. He doesn't ease off. He wraps his arms around Eddie's waist and holds him close, pressing their mouths more securely together. 

It takes a couple of seconds for Eddie to reciprocate, but when he does, his hands come up to fist in the back of Buck's shirt and he pushes forward, pressing Buck back against the sink and slotting one leg between both of Bucks. 

Buck sighs against Eddie's mouth, wrapping himself more tightly around him, content and relieved and a hundred other emotions that he's been desperately denying for months. 

All of the stress, all of the doubt, all of the second guessing every little moment between them, finally melts away beneath the warmth of Eddie's touch and the welcoming softness of his mouth. 

Eventually, when Buck pulls back, breathless and panting but refusing to let go, he says, "I'm in love with you too, if that wasn't already painful obvious." 

Eddie looks genuinely surprised. "No," he says. "It wasn't." 

"What?" Buck asks, shocked. "But I- that's- what else did you think I was freaking out about?" 

Eddie frowns, his eyebrows drawing together. "I thought you were upset about people incorrectly assuming that we were in love with each other." 

"Oh." Buck swallows. "No. I, uh, I think I was upset about everyone being right that I was pining after my straight best friend and there was nothing I could do about it except slowly descend into madness." 

"Lucky for you that I figured out my sexuality then." Eddie smiles a little lopsidedly and lifts his hand to brush a curl away from Buck's face. 

"Not that you figured out you were in love with me?" Buck asks.

"I already knew that for a long time,” Eddie replies casually, like it’s nothing even close to a revelation. “I just didn't understand what it meant until more recently." 

"Yeah." Buck nods. "I get that." 

"So," Eddie leans in closer until their noses are almost brushing. "Boyfriends?" 

"Boyfriends." Buck agrees. 

"For now," Eddie adds. 

"Keeping the door open if you wanna revert back to friends?" Buck teases. 

"No." Eddie shakes his head, expression turning serious. "Leaving it open in case I want to upgrade to something else in the near future." 

"Home owners?" Buck suggests. 

"Husbands,” Eddie says. 

"Oh." Buck can't fight the smile that overtakes his face, pulling at his lips and making his cheeks ache with the intensity of it. "Yeah." 

Eddie kisses him again. 

It’s soft and slow and totally unhurried, like they have the rest of their lives to figure out the rest. Buck realizes, a little dizzily, that they do. He closes his eyes and does something he thought he’d never have the chance to do. He kisses Eddie back.