Work Text:
Buck didn’t think it would stick.
That was the thing.
When he first convinced Eddie to download TikTok, it had been, at best, trying for a passing distraction. Something to fill the quiet moments at the station and to send each other dumb videos about firefighters slipping on wet pavement or overdramatic recipe tutorials that took three minutes to say “add garlic.” it wasn't meant to be anything permanent or something his best friend would be more involved with than just to check out the videos that Buck sent him.
And of course, that's how it started, at least. Eddie had resisted, like he always did with anything Buck liked too quickly.
“You just want me to validate your algorithm,” Eddie had said, eyeing him suspiciously as he looked down at the TikTok app staring up at him from the backlit screen, the bluish-black light illuminating his face in the darkness of the bunk room.
Buck had grinned, a bit shameless with it. After all, they'd just gotten back from 5 back to back calls. The least Eddie could do was humor him.
“I absolutely want you to validate my algorithm.”
Eddie had rolled his eyes, but he’d downloaded it anyway. Because it was Eddie. And Buck knew that he would.
And that should’ve been the end of it.
Except… it wasn’t.
—--
At first, it was exactly what Buck expected. Eddie didn't post anything and he hadn't expected him to. He didn't comment on anything either. Buck had checked his likes a few times and only one or two videos popped up in there, only ones Buck had been sending him. He couldn't even properly keep up a message streak he was reacting so little.
Buck didn't really care, per say, but he was curious about how Eddie liked what Buck sent him, but they never talked about it and Eddie barely reacted even if Buck prompted him about it.
“Did you watch the one I sent?” Buck would ask.
“Yes.”
“…And?”
“It was a dog.”
“It was a heroic dog,” Buck corrected. “That dog saved a child.”
Eddie shrugged. “Still a dog.”
Buck would huff, shove his shoulder lightly, and Eddie would hide a smile. It was…normal. Average. Exactly as Buck had anticipated it would be. Him being overly involved, throwing everything at the wall, and Eddie being stoic and technophobic and fighting against it.
But then…slowly… Eddie had started engaging.
It started after a 48 on. Buck had seen him scrolling a bit at the table and again in the locker room as they packed up. He'd started getting notifications from time to time. A like here. A saved video there.
And then one day, Buck got the notification that changed his life, even if he didn't know it at the time.
eddiebodywantssome reposted a video.
Buck frowned at his screen, tapping on the notification bar and swiped out of Hinge. Cassie from Burbank could wait.
“Reposted?” he muttered, clicking on Eddie's profile and maneuvering to the reposts. The reposts that Eddie hadn't set to private, that everyone could see.
It felt weirdly untimate, to Buck. Not in some big and dramatic way like walking in on someone showering, but in a quiet, almost accidental one. Like finding someone's journal not realizing what was inside and being unable to quit reading once you made the discovery.
The first few videos made Buck smile immediately. There was a dad packing an elaborate school lunch while the caption read: “me trying to convince my kid vegetables are fun.”
Buck huffed a laugh at that “Yeah, that’s you,” he whispered into the quiet of his bedroom. Because it was. Chris was a good kid, always had been. But, now a teenager, there were struggles and Buck wasn't going to pretend either of them handled it all with the grace that they should. Especially when it came to food.
He scrolled into the next in the list–“single dad starter pack”-- featuring some guy’s morning routine with too much coffee and two ridiculous, rambunctious kids.
Buck’s chest tightened at that, soft and fond around the edges.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s definitely you too.”
There were cooking videos, too.
Quick meals, easy dinners, meal prep for work, and tips for making cheap ingredients stretch further.
Buck raised an eyebrow at that one. “Okay, you could’ve used this months ago.”
There was a gym clip after that. More meal prep. A few lyric videos. One random video about fixing a leaky sink that Buck was pretty sure Eddie had already figured out on his own a few weeks ago when the bathroom sink did not want to cooperate with either of them.
It was all very… Eddie. Practical and thoughtful. A little understated. All about his kid and his job. Exactly what Buck had thought. And he liked it. Really, he liked anything that Eddie did.
—--
“Did you know people can see your reposts?” Buck asked casually a few days later, nudging Eddie with his elbow as they say in the loft of the station, soaking in the limited downtime.
Eddie frowned. “What’s a repost?”
Buck blinked. “The–okay, the thing where you share videos to your profile?” He wasn't exactly sure how to even explain it, but he knew for sure that Eddie had reposted several videos over the last few weeks. Unless he had hallucinated but that was always a possibility.
“I didn’t share anything.”
“…Eddie.”
“What?”
Buck stared at him for a long second, then shook his head. “Nothing. I’ll show you later.”
But he didn’t. It's not that he just forgot but something about it felt delicate in a way that Buck wasn't used to. He wasn't sure if Eddie really didn't know and if mentioning it would ruin it all. Would cause him to stop. And this was the closest that Buck felt he'd gotten to Eddie in a long time. It was something that seemed to cut down to the core of his best friend, show him things that Eddie didn't share, not even with those closest to him.
And Buck didn’t want him to stop.
—--
The shift happened slowly after that day in the station. So slowly that Buck almost missed it. But, it went from the videos of single fatherhood and meal prep to things that were heavier. Things that were fears Buck knew Eddie had but didn't know how deep it all ran.
There was a video about burnout, captioned just a little vaguely with, “When you’re always the strong one.” Buck had paused on that one a little longer than usual.
Then there was another. White words in a flowery script on top of a video of nature, a soft almost melancholy song playing in the back.
“You ever feel like if you stop for a second, everything will fall apart?”
Buck frowned at that one. But he didn't say anything. Didn't like the video or repost them himself. He didn't corner Eddie or ask if he was okay. Because he didn't want to make it more than it was, didn't want to make it bigger. He knew better than anyone what it was like to suffer silently, to struggle with your own kind but not have the words to speak outwardly. How embarrassing it felt to fully give yourself and all those horrible, tricky feelings over to some else.
And didn't everyone relate to things like that sometimes! It didn't have to mean anything. It didn't have to change the way Buck viewed his best friend. Right?
—--
“Buck, are you even listening?”
Buck blinked, dragging his attention back to the present and away from the video playing on loop in his lap and up to Hen who was standing in front of him, hands on her hips.
“What?”
“I asked if you wanted Thai or pizza.
“Oh. Uh–pizza.”
“You said that last time.” She narrowed her eyes, knowing that Buck wasn't an ‘eat the same meal over and over again’ type of guy. If they had pizza one day he was usually begging for something new the next. All he could do was meet her eyes meekly and shrug.
“Pizza’s reliable.”
Hen narrowed her eyes slightly. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Buck said quickly, maybe too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Hen glanced at Chimney in the corner making sure he wasn't listening, then back at Buck. “You’ve been staring at your phone for, like, ten minutes.”
Buck glanced down at it, like he’d forgotten it was there. But of course he hadn't. He'd been glued to it for days, checking each video that Eddie reposted, going through them with a fine tooth comb, looking for things about his friend that he wonders if he'd ever know otherwise.
“I was just–” he hesitated. “Watching something.”
“Mhm.”
Buck shoved his phone into his pocket. “I’m fine.”
Hen didn’t look convinced. And Buck didn't have the interest in attempting to reassure her.
—---
The PTSD videos hit harder than anything else when the first one hit his fyp.
Buck wasn’t even sure when they started showing up. There was no gradual shift or a moment where he realizes the topics had become more honest in that just general. But suddenly they were there. Not overwhelming or constant, but just enough to show that maybe Eddie had been struggling more recently than he'd been honest about.
The first video Buck noticed was one about nightmares, adequately captioned, “When your body thinks you’re still there.”
There was another about hypervigilance. About flinching at loud noises and scanning rooms without realizing it. Buck watched each of them with a knot in his chest, thinking about Eddie and the things he would be going through in the middle of the night. Alone.
Because Eddie never really talked about that stuff. At least, not in detail. Sure, Buck knew pieces, maybe more than anyone else. Knew enough to understand and to be able to relate his own trauma to it at least a little bit. But, he didn't know it all and seeing it in this light felt different somehow. It felt quieter. More honest in some way. Like he was looking into Eddie's core, into the parts of him that he wouldn't talk about out loud.
And Buck still didn't say anything. Because in some ways, he was selfish. He wanted these pieces of Eddie, even if Eddie didn't want him to have them.
“Hey,” he said one night, out of nowhere, just wanting to do something. To wanting to sound casual while also getting what he could from Eddie. To make sure he was okay. “You've been sleeping okay?”
Eddie glanced at him from the couch, confusion etched into the lines of his face. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just–” Buck shrugged. “You seem tired.”
Eddie studied him for a moment almost like he was worried that Buck saw through him. He finally nodded. “I’m good.”
Buck held his gaze for a second longer before bidding back. He wanted to push, he did. But he didn't. Not wanting to push too hard and throw Eddie back into his shell, rebuilding the walls yet again, but this time to block buck out.
“Okay.”
But later that night, against his better judgement, he checked the reposts again. Just to be safe.
—--
It became a habit. A quiet and almost compulsive one.
Buck would scroll through his own feed, watch the videos people sent him and maybe send a few over to people like Maddie or that guy from Peru that he still kept in contact with sometimes all these years later. Then, after maybe an hour or so, almost without thinking, he’d click into Eddie’s profile. He'd never have posted anything but Buck didn't care. He'd go right to the reposts every time, looking for new videos to pop up and give him more insight into his best friend's mind.
It was just to check. Just to know. Just to make sure.
Most of the time, it was still normal. Meal prep or easy recipes, parenting, random videos of Muay Thai combos and people talking about news in LA. Every once in a while it was a repost of one of their calls and Buck would always roll his eyes at that.
But every now and then…there was another one. Another video stuck in between all the usual stuff. Another little window into something heavier, something more personal. And Buck paid attention every single time, even when he told himself not to and to leave it alone.
That's how it all came to a head on a Tuesday night. Buck was lying in bed, half asleep, his phone basically slipping out of his hand in the darkness. Honestly, he probably would’ve missed it if he’d been more awake. If he's been scrolling faster, flipping between Eddie's reposts and his own fyp. It was tucked between two videos about the most recent UFC fight and something about a new OT treatment option for childhood CP.
The video was simple. Soft music over a photo of an orange sunset sky with minimal text floating across the screen in a delicate font.
“When you spend your whole life thinking you’re one thing…”
Buck blinked slowly as the next line fades onto the screen, the music ebbing into something a bit louder, more intense than before.
“…and then realize you might not be.”
His thumb stilled and he cocked his head, checking the little bubble in the corner that definitely said Eddie had reposted the video. Buck frowned to himself.
“Huh.”
He watched it again.
And again.
Then a third time.
There were no tags. The account didn't seem to post anything specific, just these vague, slightly melancholy videos about finding yourself or not feeling normal. His brain tried to categorize it, to file it under something normal, something explainable. But it didn't quite fit.
Eddie had always been the guy who knew who he was. Sure, he struggled just like everyone else did, but he was solid in his identity, in the life he'd built. He knew his calling was to help people, to raise his son, to live a life that he felt comfortable in.
And yet it still didn't quite fit together.
But it didn't have to mean anything…
—-
A few days later, there was another video. Buck had started paying attention more. Checking more than once a day, trying to get just a little bit more information from Eddie whenever he could.
Sometimes he'd flip through and it would be nothing, just average videos he scrolled past nearly as quickly as he scrolled into them. But, this one was different. Harder to ignore. He's pretty sure he couldn't even if he wanted to.
“Wanting to come out but not knowing how.”
Buck sat up in bed so fast he nearly dropped his phone.
“No,” he said under his breath.
That–
That didn’t–
Eddie wasn't–
What?
He stared at the screen, heart pounding as the video looped again. And again. And again. The music dulled out and the words etched into his eyes like they were burned into his eyelids.
“This is just–” he muttered to himself. “It’s just TikTok. People repost stuff all the time.”
But his thumb was already moving to navigate him back to Eddie's profile, back to check. To just make sure. To see that it had just been an accident.
Everything else was still there. The normal stuff. The safe videos. The things about parenting and his hobbies. Videos of daring rescues and some about insecurity. But now–
Now there were these, too. These quiet and unmistakable videos tucked in between.
Buck closed the app and dropped his phone onto his chest. Took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling.
He picked the phone back up. Reopened the app. Checked again.
Yup. The video was still there.
“Okay,” he said to himself. “Okay, it doesn’t mean–”
It meant something.
He just didn't know what or what he should do about it.
—--
By the fifth video, Buck was fully spiraling.
There was no pretending otherwise. It was a shock to his system every time one showed up on his fyp with Eddie's little profile picture floating in the corner.
“Being in love with your best friend but they think you’re straight.”
Buck stared at the words until they blurred and then sharpened again when his eyes crossed. His chest felt right as he just kept staring at the words.
“No,” he whispered softly to himself.
Because–
Because if it was…if it was true…if Eddie reposted it on purpose. If Eddie reposted it because it was true. That he truly felt like that. Then–
His thoughts crashed into each other in a messy loud way that made pain explode in his temples sharply, making looking at the phone difficult. But he couldn't look away.
Because Buck was in love with Eddie.
Had been for longer than he wanted to admit.
He just–
He’d buried it. He told himself that it wasn't an option. Because Eddie. Eddie was straight. Eddie was his straight best friend who loves women. Who dated women, at least a little bit enthusiastically. His straight best friend who dated women and had a wife before. The proof of his straightness was currently trying to involve both of them in planning a big 16th birthday party for the fall.
The only version of this story is the one where Buck ignores his feelings and eventually finds someone else. And maybe that someone else isn't everything he's ever wanted. But they'd be good enough. They'd choose him. And yea, they'd never be Eddie. But Eddie was straight and not an option and–
There was only one way this ended because Buck wouldn't break this friendship. He couldn't.
But now there was this. These videos about sexuality and being misunderstood. About coming out. And now…being in love with your best friend.
These were tiny, unintentional confessions and Buck didn't know what to do.
He just dragged a hand over his face with a deep sigh.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, I just– I need to talk to him.”
—--
“Dude.”
Buck blinked and looked over to see Chimney staring at him.
“What?”
“You just walked into a door?”
“I did not–”
“You absolutely did.”
Hen snorted from across the room as Buck rubbed at the back of his neck. “Okay, maybe I was a little distracted.”
“A little?” Chim questioned. “You’ve been weird for days.”
“I have not!”
“You have,” Hen said, interjecting yet again even though she claimed to hate getting involved in any of Buck's personal ‘drama.’ “It’s like youre waiting for something and it's uncanny.”
Buck opened his mouth. Then closed it with a sigh. Not a deep one, but just something that felt like it had been dragged from within him, frustrated and resigned.
“I just need to talk to Eddie,” he said finally, as Hen and Chim exchanged a look that made him think that he must be missing something.
“Okay,” Hen said carefully. “Then go talk to him.”
Buck nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I will.”
But he didn't. At least just not right away. Because what if he was wrong? What if the reposts were a mistake or Eddie doesn't actually see him as his best friend? What if he brought it up and it meant nothing?
What if-
What if it meant everything?
—--
It took three more days.
Three days of overthinking and checking the reposts like they might disappear at any second and throw away all of his proof. They didn't.
So on Saturday, Buck drove to Eddie’s house with his heart in his throat knowing that Chris was sleeping over at a friend's house for yet another birthday party.
He didn’t text. Didn't call. He just showed up. Which wasn't that unusual, but he knew if he gave himself time to think about it, he'd lose his nerve. Even though he knew that if he was going to talk about something important, he should probably give Eddie just a little bit of a warning so he wasn't fully blindsided.
He knocked on the door instead of using his key. Guess that was all the warning he could muster up.
And when Eddie opened the door–soft, familiar, completely unaware of the storm in Buck’s head–he almost forgot why he was there.
“Hey,” Eddie said, a smile overtaking his features like Buck was the most amazing thing that could be on the other side of his door. “Everything okay?”
Buck swallowed.
“Yeah,” he said automatically. Then, “No. I mean– yes but–can I come in?”
Eddie frowned, but stepped aside, confusion knitting his brows together. “Yeah, of course.”
Buck walked in like he’d done a hundred times before. But it also felt different. Everything felt different now, even if nothing had truly changed.
But this felt different.
Everything felt different.
“Chris is at a friend’s,” Eddie said. “So it’s just me.”
“Yea” Buck said, even though that didn’t help. “He told me about the party on Wednesday when I helped with that report.”
Eddie turned to face him. “Buck, what’s going on?”
“I saw your TikTok reposts.”
There. Rip off the bandage. Quick and effective.
Eddie blinked.
“My–what?”
“Your reposts,” Buck said, words starting to rush now. “The videos you’ve been sharing–I didn’t know people could see those, but apparently they can, and I just–I saw them and I didn’t–”
“Wait.” Eddie held up a hand. “Like the videos where you push that little yellow button?”
“Yea, Eddie.”
“I didn't know people could see those.”
Buck froze, now more confused than ever. “You didn’t know that?”
There hadn't been a world in which Buck thought that Eddie had no idea. He thought maybe that Eddie wouldn't think that buck would go looking on his profile or maybe he was trying to send a message without having to talk. Never in his wildest dreams did Buck imagine that Eddie just simply had no idea.
“No,” Eddie said, eyes widening in horror and interrupting Buck's own racing thoughts. “No, I thought that was private.”
“Oh.”
They stared at each other for a moment before Eddie dragged a hand down his face. “Oh my God.”
“Hey, it’s okay–”
“I’ve been reposting stuff for weeks,” Eddie said. “Buck, what if–”
“I don’t think a lot of people check that,” Buck said quickly. “I didn’t even know it was there until a couple of videos about meal prep showed up on my page.”
Eddie groaned softly.
“Okay,” Buck said, gentler now, reaching out. “Hey. It’s okay.”
Eddie dropped his hand, looking up at him with something uncertain in his eyes. “Which ones did you see?”
Buck hesitated. He could lie. He could let Eddie die of embarrassment thinking that all he'd seen was some videos about missing dance and not being able to cook. But he'd come here for a reason and he couldn't back down. Not now.
“The newer ones.”
Eddie went still.
“Oh.”
Silence settled between them, heavy and awkward in a way they never usually weren't with each other. Bucks heart threatening to pour right out of his chest.
“Eddie…”
Eddie looked at him. Really looked at him. Almost like he was begging Buck to cross the line first.
“Did you mean it?”
“I didn’t mean for you to see them,” he replied softly. No denial.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Eddie’s gaze dropped, hands clenching at his sides. “Yeah,” he finally said after a tense moment. “I meant it.”
Buck’s breath caught.
“You’re–” He couldn’t quite say it.
Eddie huffed a quiet, nervous laugh. “Still figuring that part out.”
Buck took a step closer. “And the one about–being in love with your best friend?”
Eddie’s shoulders tensed.
“Buck–”
“Is that real, too?”
Eddie closed his eyes, and toook a deep breath to steady himself
“Yes.”
Buck’s chest tightened immediately at the confession, the weight of it nearly making his knees buckle beneath him. “Okay so maybe this is stupid but…” he started before he could stop himself. “Do you mean–”
“You,” he said, eyes flying open to look directly into Buck's own.
“Yeah?”
Eddie nodded, just once. “Yeah.”
Buck let out a shaky breath. Because of course. Of course. Eddie was quiet and careful, carrying it all alone. Not wanting to be loud or make a big deal or ruin what they had going on between them.
“I’m in love with you,” Eddie added, like he couldn’t stop himself now that it was out.
Buck laughed at that. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, because–i uh–I need you to know something too.”
Eddie froze.
Buck stepped closer.
“I’m in love with you too. I thought you were straight,” Buck admitted. “So I didn’t–”
“I thought I was straight,” Eddie said faintly, rushing to interrupt.
Buck smiled, a little helpless. “Yeah. That seems to be the problem.”
Eddie stared at him for a moment before he started to lean in, soft and a bit hesitant, Buck meeting him halfway.
The kiss was soft and careful. Like they were both afraid that something would break if they put anything else into it. But then Eddie’s hand came up to his face, and Buck melted into it. Because it was Eddie. It had always been Eddie. The kiss deepened then, Eddie letting Buck lead them, the two of them walking back towards the couch only pulling back when Eddie's knees hit the edge and he threatened to fall. His lips were swollen, hair mused and had a dazed look in his eyes.
“Okay.”
Buck smiled. “Okay,” he echoed.
A quiet moment passed.
Then Eddie groaned.
“I cannot believe you found out because of TikTok.”
Buck laughed. “Honestly? Same.”
Eddie shook his head. “I should probably learn how the app works.”
“Yeah,” Buck said. “That might help.”
A pause.
Then, softer, “I’m glad you didn’t. Learn how the app worked first, I mean.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Because otherwise I might’ve never known.”
Eddie smiled.
And this time, when he kissed him, there was nothing hesitant about it at all.