Archive of Our Own

It’s going to be a good evening, Eddie can feel it.

He’s putting the finishing touches on his slow-cooker barbacoa, excited to make it for Buck since he only got to experience it through a screen last time. He thinks this batch is going to turn out even better than the first one—spent all morning shopping for the ingredients and assembling them in the slow cooker. Now, eight hours later, the whole house smells like slow-roasted meat and piquant spices, everything coming together perfectly. There are tortillas warming in the oven, and Eddie even threw together a little watermelon mint agua fresca with the first ripe melons of the summer.

It’s just as Eddie’s chopping up some fresh onions and herbs that Buck walks into the kitchen and says, “I think I found a place.”

Eddie’s hand goes still and tight on the handle of the knife. He knew, vaguely, that Buck was looking at apartments. He’s gone to a few showings here and there, but Eddie kinda figured it wasn’t exactly at the top of his priorities, given everything that’s happened in the last couple weeks. The apartment collapse, the birth of his baby nephew, the tearful and shocking revelation that Bobby was still alive, subjected to a highly classified and highly experimental treatment for the virus.

With so much going on, Eddie had kind of put the prospect of Buck moving out to the back of his mind. Besides, they’ve been making it work, sharing the house, sharing the kitchen, even the bed.

But apparently, it’s been on Buck’s mind. Enough that he’s found a place. He thinks.

“You found a place,” Eddie echoes.

“Yeah. It’s right in West Hollywood, so not too far from the station, and a little closer to Maddie and Chim’s place than the loft was. It’s a one bedroom, and it’s got a balcony. They said I could move in on the first.”

Eddie feels a sudden, abrupt sense of the floor falling out from under him, like a roof collapsing from the heat of a house-fire.

“The first? As in, June first?” Eddie counts in his head. Eleven days from now. “Isn’t that kind of soon?”

“W-well, I mean, you and Chris have all your boxes coming back from Texas, so I just figured, you know, you’d want to move all your stuff back in as soon as possible.”

Eddie struggles to think of a single piece of furniture or item packed away in a box in El Paso that he gives a damn about.

He sets the knife down and turns around completely to face Buck. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

“Uh—okay,” Buck says, bemused. A little bit of trepidation shows in his eyes.

“Well,” Eddie says, and there’s a long pause as he casts about in his head for any semblance of a coherent thought other than the warning that started blaring through his head the minute Buck said he found a place. “The house.”

“The…this house?”

“You’re still subletting it from me,” Eddie blurts.

“Okay, but. You’re…back,” Buck says slowly. “And your name’s still on the lease.”

Eddie thinks about this for a moment. Buck’s right—the subletting agreement was a handshake agreement. Eddie’s still the official tenant on paper. Nothing binding about it. Not like the mortgage Eddie foolishly signed three months ago for a run-down little shack eight hundred miles away.

Even now, he can’t fully regret buying the El Paso house. He was proud of himself, for what he managed to make of such meager living quarters, but it never really felt like home. Not the way South Bedford Street does.

And then it hits him. The El Paso house. That’s why Buck can’t leave.

“Right,” Eddie says. “But I’m still paying the mortgage on the El Paso house until it sells. So I actually…can’t afford to live here if you move out.”

In truth, the real estate agent handling the sale had assured Eddie that it wouldn’t be too hard to find a buyer, thanks in part to all the repairs Eddie made on it. The house is in a good area, and it’s not like Eddie’s holding out to make a profit. Still, the housing market’s so unstable, and Eddie’s smart enough to know not to bank on anything until it’s a done deal. He can’t assume the house will sell fast, and if he’s stuck paying full rent here and the mortgage for more than a month or two, he’s going to be in real trouble.

If Buck stays, and pays half the rent, he can make it work. And Buck will be saving money, too. It’s only practical.

“Oh,” Buck says, surprised, like he hadn’t thought of this. “Well, why didn’t you say anything until now?”

Eddie shrugs, goes back to chopping cilantro. “I guess I didn’t think you were that serious about moving out right now. I kinda figured you’d just…”

“Stay?” Buck says, his voice suddenly so quiet Eddie’s not sure he really heard it at all.

He looks over his shoulder at Buck who has a distant sort of look on his face. “Yeah. I mean. Chris and I make pretty good roommates, don’t we?”

Buck laughs, but there’s something a little stiff about it. “I’ve definitely had worse. Remember when I lived with Albert?”

Eddie smiles. “So, it’s decided then. You’ll stay.”

Buck, the way he always seems to, smiles back. “Okay. I’ll stay.” He clears his throat. “Until you sell the El Paso house.”

“Right,” Eddie agrees, going back to the cilantro. “Until then.”

The next week passes with a cheerful flurry of activity as Eddie settles back in at the 118 and scrambles to get Chris signed-up last-minute for a summer robotics and engineering camp run by UCLA. With Bobby not yet cleared for duty, and Chim out on parental leave, Hen’s back as acting captain, which means Eddie’s picking up the slack on medical calls. That leaves Ravi and Buck paired on heavier rescues, and Eddie can’t help but feel a twinge whenever they snap into action together on a rope rescue or even a simple saws-and-jaws extraction.

At the station, though, he and Buck are as inseparable as ever—spotting each other in the gym, tagging along on each other’s chore assignments, Eddie playing sous chef to Buck for mealtimes. In a way it feels like Eddie never left, like El Paso was just a three month long bad dream, fading fast in the bright morning light.

And living with Buck, it turns out, is easy. For a week or two they’d traded off on the couch, until a particularly grueling shift had sent Eddie crawling into bed next to Buck. They’ve been sharing it ever since, and mostly Eddie’s been struck with how normal it feels. Once or twice, they’d woken up somewhat entwined, for lack of a better word, which, if Eddie’s being really honest, had kind of been nice. He would’ve been perfectly content to doze back off with his head cushioned on Buck’s meaty bicep, except Buck had rushed out of the room, needing to urgently relieve himself.

It’s all so easy. Eddie gets used to the way things are dangerously fast. He gets used to picking Buck’s sweaty, balled-up socks from the bedroom floor. Gets used to swinging by the GNC on his way back from grocery runs to get the specialty whey protein powder Buck prefers. Gets used to Buck’s off-key singing in the shower in the morning and his bright, excited chatter while they’re stuck in traffic on the way to the station or to pick up Chris.

The three of them spend a beautiful, sunny Memorial Day at Bobby and Athena’s newly completed house. Bobby’s still on the mend, which leaves Buck in charge of the grill, a responsibility he takes extremely seriously.

Chris is off catching up with Denny and Mara so Eddie makes himself useful helping Athena with the sides and drinks until she shooes him off. He winds up hanging around the barbecue, keeping Buck company as he carefully flips burgers and piles more onions onto the griddle. Eddie can’t help but smile at the image he makes, totally in his element, biceps on display in a short-sleeved shirt, an apron around his waist that reads Smokin’ Hot.

As the first round of dogs get plated up, Eddie reaches for one. He’s answered with a swift smack on the back of the hand from Buck’s spatula.

“Hey! Those are for everyone,” Buck chides.

Eddie rubs his hand. “What, no best friend privileges?”

“No.”

“What about roommate privileges?” Eddie needles.

Ravi, grabbing a beer from the cooler next to them, pauses. “You guys are still living together?”

Eddie opens his mouth to reply, but Buck beats him to it. “It’s just until Eddie sells the house he bought in El Paso.”

Ravi cracks open his beer. “You know, you should really think about renting it out, instead. It’s a great way to generate some passive income.”

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie replies. “I’ll—I’ll look into that.”

He doesn’t look at Buck, because he’s pretty sure one glance will give him away. Last Thursday, His real estate agent, Valentina, had called with not one, but five offers on the house, one of which had been cash no contingency.

“If you really want to get this done fast, I’d go ahead with this one,” she advised. Eager to sever the last tie between himself and those lonely, miserably months in El Paso, Eddie accepted.

He just hasn’t told Buck yet.

It’ll take some time for the deal to officially close anyway. And then there’ll be an escrow period, and inspections and appraisals, and finalizing paperwork. Any number of issues could come up in the meantime and it could be months before Eddie sees a single dime from the sale. So really, there’s no need to say anything.

Lately, Eddie feels like a perfect LA summer: like sunshine on the water, like an ocean breeze suffused with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, like iced coffee sweating in the heat of an endless afternoon.

Summer has always been Eddie’s favorite season, but he can’t really remember the last time he spent one in such high spirits. Definitely not last year, when he could barely stand to look at himself in the mirror. He had to drag himself through every day, especially the days he had off from work, when all there was to do was mope around the house, alone, and think about all the ways in which he’d fucked his life up. Buck had done his best, bullying Eddie out of the house when he could manage it, trying to cheer him up although Eddie had mostly felt like he’d been bumming Buck out.

But this summer, Eddie looks forward to his days off more than he ever has. Their shared calendar on the fridge starts to fill up: on Sunday, he takes Buck and Chris to a daytime Dodgers game. Their seats are way out in the bleachers but none of them care—they eat their body weight in Dodger dogs and frozen lemonade, and cheer their faces off when Freddie Freeman hits a homer at the bottom of the eighth to tie the game. They stop at Buck’s favorite taco truck in Echo Park on the way home, Eddie mercilessly razzing Buck about how pink he gets when he eats the spiciest salsa, and Buck acting like he doesn’t love the teasing.

Their next day off, Buck signs them up to babysit for Jeeyun and baby Robby so Maddie and Chim can have a real meal outside the house for the first time in over a month. Well, initially it was just Buck signing up, and he’d seemed surprised when Eddie slid into the passenger seat next to him.

“You’re coming with?” he asked, blinking.

“Obviously,” Eddie replied, sliding on his sunglasses. “How are you gonna handle a four-year-old and a newborn at the same time?”

Buck stared at him for a moment that felt absurdly long before sticking his keys in the ignition and saying, “You might have a point.”

For their part, Maddie and Chim don’t seem at all fazed when Eddie turns up at their door along with Buck. Nor are Hen and Karen, when they come to family game night together three days later.

And when Ravi invites them to a frolf meet-up in the park, Eddie regretfully declines on both of their behalfs.

“Sorry, that’s the day we’re taking Chris and a couple of his friends to the beach,” Eddie says.

Ravi makes a face. “You could not pay me to spend an entire afternoon with a bunch of fourteen-year-olds hopped up on sugar and corndogs. You really are a good friend, aren’t you Buck?”

Eddie laughs, clapping Buck on the shoulder. “Sure is.”

“It’s,” Buck stutters. “It’s not for Eddie, it’s for Chris.”

The words are just a little too prickly to land as a joke, and Eddie’s not exactly sure what to make of it. Neither does Ravi, who shoots a quizzical look first at Buck and then at Eddie.

“Well, I better go finish cleaning the locker room,” he says at last. “See ya!”

“Hey,” Eddie says to Buck. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Buck says, busying himself with slicing mushrooms for dinner prep. “Are you gonna chop that onion or what?”

“Yes, chef,” Eddie replies, and starts chopping.

Buck shoots him a half-smile and soon enough they’re back to goofing around in the kitchen, all traces of weirdness forgotten.

Their day at the beach couldn’t be more perfect. They bring a cooler with snacks and drinks, and set up their spot a little ways away from Chris and his friends, to give them the illusion of independence. The smell of sunscreen and salt water permeates the air, and Eddie feels blissfully indolent, lounging in his chair next to Buck, shades on, feet in the sand.

Buck is lying on his stomach, reading his book—a something about art thieves that Eddie’s sure he’ll tell him all about later. His shoulders are starting to look a little pink, so Eddie grabs the sunscreen and squirts some on his back. Buck yelps.

“Hey, that’s cold!”

Eddie ignores him, smoothing his palms over Buck’s shoulders to rub the sunscreen in. “You’re getting burned, bud. Gotta reapply.”

“Oh,” Buck replies. “Uh, right. Thanks.”

“Got your back,” Eddie answers. “Ha—get it?”

“Ha ha,” Buck says sarcastically, and goes back to his book. Now his ears are starting to look a little pink too so Eddie rubs some sunscreen on them.

Buck squirms away from his touch, “Hey! I can do that myself, you know.”

“I know,” Eddie replies, wiping the excess sunscreen over Buck’s cheeks. “But you didn’t, did you? Someone’s gotta protect all this pretty pale skin.”

Buck doesn’t say anything, just looks up at Eddie, his eyes even bluer than the sky and the sea behind him. Eddie’s still sort of holding Buck’s face in his hands, ostensibly rubbing the sunscreen in, but really just enjoying the way Buck’s cheeks feel against the pads of his fingers. He’s not sure why.

“Hey, Dad, is there any lemonade left?” Chris’s voice calls from over by the cooler.

Eddie had almost forgotten about him and his friends. “There should be another bottle in the cooler,” Eddie replies. “Here, I’ll help you.” He pats Buck’s cheek and then releases him, making his way over to Chris.

By the time he’s done sorting Chris’s lemonade out, Buck has abandoned his book and has gone to wade out into the waves. Eddie settle back into his chair and just watches him as he dives through a wave and then surfaces, dripping wet and sun-kissed.

It’s a good afternoon.

Back at home, after a shower and dinner and a quick round of Boggle with Chris, they crash out on the couch together. Eddie’s feeling lazy and sated, full of Buck’s newest culinary experiment—some kind of spicy pork meatballs with noodles. Buck’s right next to him, legs propped on the coffee table, Eddie’s bare knee brushing his thigh. His curls are still damp from his shower, and the earthy-soapy-clean scent of his shampoo teases at Eddie’s nose. It’s a nice smell—familiar and homey and unmistakably Buck.

“Hey, tomorrow’s Sunday,” he realizes. “You wanna go hit up the Hollywood Farmer’s Market? We could get up early, do a quick Runyon hike beforehand and get brunch at that diner—”

“I can’t,” Buck says, even though he loves the Hollywood Farmer’s Market. Usually he’s the one suggesting it.

Eddie squints at him, wondering if maybe he’s making some kind of joke. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Buck doesn’t return his gaze. “I have plans.”

“Plans? With who?” He hasn’t mentioned anything to Eddie, and there’s definitely nothing written on the calendar. He’d almost think Buck was making it up, except why would he?

“Just—plans,” Buck replies roughly. “I don’t have to spend every second of every day with you, you know.”

Which is really rich coming from the guy who once spent fifteen minutes convincing Bobby that cleaning the locker room windows was a two-man job just so he could finish telling Eddie about the podcast he’d listened to the night before about whale languages. Eddie’s pretty sure Bobby had only caved because arguing with Buck about it was wasting more time than letting them double up on chores would.

“Okay,” Eddie says, stung. “Well, excuse me for wanting to hang out with my best friend on our day off.”

He starts to rise from the couch and retreat to the bathroom when Buck grabs his arm.

“Wait,” he says, still not quite looking at Eddie. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Finally, he looks up at Eddie. “The Farmer’s Market sounds great. Let’s do it.”

Eddie smiles. “Good, because we need to get a whole pallet of strawberries. You and Chris keep plowing through them before I’ve eaten any.”

“How do you know we won’t just eat the entire pallet?”

“Good point,” Eddie concedes. “Better get two pallets.”

Eddie’s cousin Rafael, who lives in Riverside, had a new baby while Eddie was still off in Texas. He missed the birth, but the christening falls on a day off, so he RSVPs and lets Pepa know they can drive her.

“Buck, where’s your suit?” he calls over to him in the kitchen, the Tuesday before the christening. “I’m dropping everything off at the dry cleaners on the way to get Chris.”

Buck pokes his head out into the hallway. “Uh, it’s probably in that box of my clothes in the closet. Why?”

“Rafael’s baby’s christening this weekend?” Eddie says, opening the box. “I literally just told you about it. It’s on the calendar.”

Buck stares at him blankly. “You…your cousin’s baby’s christening? Your cousin who I’ve never met?”

“You met him at my shield ceremony,” Eddie reminds him, digging through Buck’s various winter sweaters and other seldom used clothing until he finds the suit in question. “Aha. Found it.”

He glances back at Buck and has to do a double take at the scrunched expression on his face. “Do you not want to go?”

“I didn’t know I was invited,” Buck says, voice careful.

“Of course you’re invited,” Eddie says. “My other cousins have been dying to meet you.”

“They have?”

“’Course,” Eddie replies, now hunting through the closet for a collared shirt. “You want white or blue with this suit?”

“Uh, blue I guess?”

It’s a good choice. Blue always brings out Buck’s eyes. Eddie grabs the hanger, and the suit, and swings out into the hall.

“Wait, Eddie—”

“Sorry, gotta get going now, dry cleaner closes at four,” Eddie calls over his shoulder. “We’ll talk when I get back!”

Only, after he gets Chris, and Chris successfully lobbies to stop for Thai takeout on their way home, Buck doesn’t bring whatever it was up again.

The day of the christening rolls around and Eddie has to drag Chris out of bed at six, bribing him with the promise of In-N-Out on their way home.

Driving out to Riverside at seven in the morning is not Eddie’s idea of a relaxing day off, but it could be a lot worse. He’s got Chris dozing against the window in the back seat and Buck next to him in the passenger seat, chatting animatedly with Pepa about recipes. They arrive at the church a little before the christening is set to begin, and take their seats in the pews. The baby, Bianca, is just about the chubbiest six-week-old Eddie’s ever seen, fat and perfect in a heap of white lace. She fusses throughout the ceremony, letting out indignant squawks before settling into her mother’s arms.

Afterward, they all gather in one of the church’s community rooms to eat and Eddie makes the introductions.

“Buck, we’ve heard so much about you,” his cousin Liliana says with a smile. “Between Eddie, Christopher, and Mom, I’m not sure who talks about you more.”

“Oh,” Buck says, like he’s surprised by this. “Well. It’s great to finally meet you, too.”

Usually, Chris is Eddie’s buffer at these family events, the focus of most of the tias and tios inquiries. But Chris quickly slips off to hang out with his cousins—between all four of Pepa’s kids, there are a lot of them.

But Buck, as it turns out, makes a great back-up buffer. He fields questions about their job as firefighters, entertaining everyone with the greatest hits of rescue stories and successfully steering around awkward questions about Eddie’s move to and back from El Paso. And with Buck distracting everyone, no one asks Eddie a single question about when he’s going to “settle down again.”

Eddie makes a mental note never to attend a family event without him again. He looks good here, surrounded by Eddie’s family. His suit’s the same one he was supposed to have worn for Maddie and Chim’s wedding, and it fits him well, making his shoulders look broad and his legs look impossibly long. He’d been right about the undershirt, too—the blue brings out his eyes.

“Beer?” Rafael asks, passing Eddie a bottle, tearing his gaze from Buck and Raf’s wife, Ximena, who are trading newborn stories about Bianca and Robby.

“Hey, congrats again, man,” Eddie says, raising his bottle to clink against Rafael’s. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Rafael says with a dreamy look. Eddie follows his gaze to see Ximena depositing the bundle of lace into Buck’s waiting arms. If there’s one thing Eddie knows, it’s that if there’s a baby in the vicinity, eventually Buck will find a way to hold it.

“I’m sorry again I missed the birth,” Eddie says, taking a swig of beer. He and Rafael used to be close, when they were kids and Rafael was the cool, worldly slightly older cousin Eddie aspired to be. But in their adulthood, they’d somewhat fallen out of touch, seeing each other only for these kinds of big family events. Eddie hadn’t even made it to his and Ximena’s wedding—he’d been too busy recovering from getting shot.

“Nah, I get it,” Rafael says, twisting his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle. “You had to be there for your own kid. They’ve always gotta come first. But hey—” He smiles, elbowing Eddie, “I’m glad you’re here now.”

“Me, too,” Eddie says, and means it in more ways than one.

Rafael cocks his head at him, like he’s really considering him. “You seem happy, man.”

Eddie looks back at where Buck now has Bianca cradled gently in his huge arms, gazing down at her, curls falling over his forehead. It takes him back a few weeks to all of them crowded around Maddie’s hospital room, meeting baby Robby for the first time. Buck had started crying the minute Chimney put him in his arms. Eddie has the pictures on his phone to prove it.

“Getting there, I think,” he says to Rafael.

As if he hears him from across the room, Buck looks up from the baby, catching Eddie’s gaze. Eddie feels his smile pull wider.

At Buck’s shoulder, Ximena leans in and says something. Whatever it is, it makes Buck flush bright pink and drop Eddie’s gaze. He turns and says something back to her, and though Eddie’s too far to hear his voice he can imagine the tone based on the sudden tension in Buck’s body—stuttery and off-kilter. Whatever Ximena had said has clearly embarrassed him.

“I better go rescue Buck from your wife,” Eddie says, and makes his way over. When he reaches them, he says, “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised you got to hold the baby before me.”

“Eddie!” Buck says, like he’s genuinely surprised to see him at his own cousin’s baby christening.

“May I?” Eddie asks Ximena.

“Go right ahead,” she says, smiling.

Carefully, making sure to keep her neck supported, Buck maneuvers Bianca into Eddie’s warms.

“There you go,” he says softly, his curls brushing Eddie’s cheek. Eddie catches a whiff of his earthy scent as he straightens up.

“Look at you,” Eddie coos to Bianca. Her face is all scrunched up as she waves her pudgy little fists up at him. “Sweetest little girl in the whole world, aren’t you?” She reaches up and grabs hold of Eddie’s thumb. “And so strong, too.”

“I’m, uh,” Buck says unsteadily, “I’m gonna go find Chris.”

Eddie looks up, but Buck’s already walking away.

“You’re both so good with her,” Ximena says.

“Kinda comes with the job,” Eddie replies.

“You hold a lot of babies while fighting fires?” she asks skeptically.

“You’d be surprised,” Eddie replies, and launches into the story about evacuating the maternity ward during the hospital fire. Always a crowd-pleaser.

He doesn’t get to hold onto Bianca very long before Ximena’s siblings are swooping over to take their turns.

About twenty minutes later, Buck still hasn’t rematerialized, although Chris and his cousins do.

“You seen Buck?” Eddie asks.

“Wasn’t he with you?” Chris replies, confused.

“Uh, yeah, just lost track of him for a minute,” Eddie says. “Say goodbye to your cousins, okay? We gotta take off soon if we don’t want to hit traffic.”

He lets Pepa know they’re leaving soon, and then goes off to track Buck down. He finds him in the bathroom, not even in one of the stalls or anything, just—standing out by the sinks, his face a little wet like he’d splashed himself with water. The first two buttons on his pale blue undershirt are undone.

“You hiding out in here?” Eddie asks, leaning up against the counter.

“No,” Buck replies, voice strangely stiff. He turns on the tap and runs his hands under the water. “Just needed to pee.”

“It’s okay, Buck, I know my family can be a lot.”

“I like your family,” Buck says. Then amends, “I like this side of your family.” He turns off the tap and reaches for the paper towels.

“Well, they like you too,” Eddie says. “You already got an invite to Fernando’s daughter’s quinceñera in September. And Liliana mentioned something about sending her a lemon loaf recipe?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ll—yeah.”

“Anyway, we should head out soon,” Eddie says. “Get ahead of the traffic.”

Buck nods.

Something feels off. Eddie ducks his head, trying to catch his eye. “You sure you’re okay?”

Buck meets his gaze, but briefly. “Fine.”

Eddie watches him for a minute as he dries his hands. “What did Ximena say to you?”

“What?” Buck asks, too quickly.

“Ximena,” Eddie repeats. “She said something and it looked like you were—I don’t know. Flustered, maybe.”

“Oh. It was nothing,” Buck says. “She just asked if we—if I. Wanted one.” He clears his throat. “A baby.”

The thought of it nearly bowls Eddie over. He can picture it so clearly: what a devoted, adoring father Buck would be. How much Eddie would love any kid that belonged to him.

“Oh,” is the only thing that makes it out of Eddie’s mouth.

“Just caught me off guard I guess.” Buck balls up the paper towel, lobs it into the trash. “Anyway. We’d better get going.”

And then he swings through the bathroom door. It takes Eddie a second to catch up to him so they can collect Pepa and Chris and make the rounds to say their goodbyes.

In the car, Buck cedes the front seat to Pepa, sitting in the back with Chris. He’s quiet the whole drive home. Unusually so.

They don’t manage to avoid the late afternoon traffic completely, and by the time they drop Pepa off, it’s almost dinner.

“In-N-Out time?” Chris says with a small grin. “You did promise.”

“That I did,” Eddie agrees.

Three double cheeseburgers and two milkshakes later, they’re turning onto South Bedford street. Eddie is full and tired, but a happy kind of tired, the kind that comes from a day spent with people you love.

Buck’s unbuckling his seatbelt before the car even comes to a full stop. “I forgot to mention, I told Maddie I might stop by this evening.”

“Really? It’s almost eight and we have a shift tomorrow,” Eddie reminds him.

Buck shrugs. “Well, you know I take my uncle duties seriously.” He flashes a smile and then he’s gone, loping over to the Jeep in the fading evening light.

Eddie watches him ago, a twinge of concern pinching in his chest.

“Well, kid, what do you wanna do with the rest of the evening?” he asks as they exit the car and make their way up to the front walkway.

“I’ve got practice problems to finish,” Chris grumbles.

So Eddie is relegated to spending the evening alone, flipping half-heartedly through his Netflix queue before giving up, because everything on there is something he’s been watching with Buck.

He decides to just call it an early night—he’s gotta be up early anyway. He doesn’t even know when Buck finally makes it home, because by then he’s already fast asleep.

Their shift the next day is the kind with lots of med-only calls, which means Eddie’s riding in the ambulance most of the day. He only really sees Buck at the station, and even there they’re at most crossing paths for a few minutes before being separated again. Eddie goes to get a workout in a few hours before dinner and looks for Buck, but he’s nowhere to be found. He has to settle for Ravi as a spotter, which is fine, don’t get him wrong, just—Buck has a certain knack for knowing exactly when Eddie’s point of failure is going to happen, often before Eddie himself does. Eddie always likes the way he’ll go, “C’mon, c’mon, one more! You can do it!” Like he’s Eddie’s own personal cheering squad.

He wonders, idly, if he could ever convince Buck to dress up as a cheerleader. Crop top, tiny skirt, pom-poms…if any guy could pull it off, it’d be Buck. His legs would look so long and thick under the skirt, waving the pom-poms around, chanting. Give me an E! Give me a D! Give me another D! Give me an I! Give me an E! What’s that spell?

“Eddie?” Ravi’s voice cuts through the imagined Cheerleader Buck’s chant.

“Huh?”

“That was fifteen. You want a break?”

Eddie racks the bar. “Right, yeah. Switch?”

Ravi takes his place on the bench press and Eddie goes to spot him, trying not to let his mind wander again as he counts Ravi’s reps for him.

After their shift, Eddie crashes hard, and by the time he wakes up mid-afternoon, Buck’s already gone. He feels his mood start to sour, especially when his texts go unanswered. But he’s probably just at Maddie’s again, helping out with Jee-Yun so she and Chim can have a break. He’s not always great at checking his phone when he’s with the kids.

Eddie takes a quick, restorative shower, and then looks at the clock and almost panics because he’s definitely late to pick up Chris. The drive to UCLA isn’t that far, but it is annoying at this time of day, the 405 always gummed up with commuter traffic. Eddie can’t seem to settle on something to listen to, keeps switching his choices at every red light before finally settling on Springsteen—Buck’s go-to car music when nothing else will suffice.

They swing by the Sprouts to pick up groceries for dinner. Eddie’s been hankering for steak—he’s gets a slightly nicer cut than he usually would, and just for the hell of it he springs for a bottle of red wine to go with.

Buck still hasn’t come back by the time Eddie and Chris roll up to the house. He unpacks the groceries, gets started on the marinade for the steak and starts chopping vegetables for a side salad. Before they lived together, Buck cooked dinner on most nights they ate together, at first because Eddie was hopeless in the kitchen, and after Eddie started to improve his skills, well—he figured Buck just liked it, having people to cook for. But since Buck moved in, they’ve been trading off more and more because it turns out, Eddie likes it, too. Cooking for Buck. Likes the way he always tears through his plate, stuffing his face like he’s never tasted anything better.

The best are the nights when they cook together, shoulders jostling at the counter, collaborating and working together the way they do so seamlessly in the field. Or did, anyway, until Eddie started filling in for Chim.

Dinner’s almost done and Buck still isn’t home, so while he waits for the steaks to rest he gives him a call. His irritation starts to simmer when it rings out to voicemail, and then, without thinking too hard on it, he shoots a text to Chimney, Can you tell Buck to give me a call?

He can only wait so long for Buck to show up for dinner, and when, at 7:30, there’s still no sign of him, Eddie gives in. He doesn’t want Chris to have to eat cold steak, after all.

“Where’s Buck?” Chris asks when he sits down at the table.

“He’s out this evening.” That’s really as much as he knows, he realizes. Buck didn’t even mention going to Maddie’s. Eddie just assumed.

Eddie finds, after all that, that he’s not all that hungry. It’s when he’s clearing the dishes that he gets a text back from Chim. Buck isn’t here?

Eddie frowns down at his phone. If Buck’s not at Maddie and Chim’s, then where is he?

He flips back over to his text thread with Buck. Underneath his icon—a picture Eddie took of Buck wielding a saw at a work and looking like a little kid at a candystore—it says Los Angeles, CA. It’s then that Eddie remembers Buck had decided they needed to share their locations with each other when Eddie had started driving Uber.

“That way,” he’d said, “if one of your passengers kidnaps you, I’ll be able to find you.”

Instead of pointing out the many flaws with this plan, Eddie had simply accepted the request.

Buck had never had to intervene in an Uber pick-up kidnapping, but he had made use of the information, shooting Eddie random texts throughout the day like, get anything good at El Super? And working late again? And how many airport pickups have you done today lol?

Much less frequently, Eddie would tap on Buck’s icon and gaze at the little saw-wielding Buck icon floating over South Bedford Street, or the fire station, pressing a fist against the ache in his chest.

Since moving back to LA, neither of them has really made use of their location sharing because the minutes when Buck hasn’t been within arms reach or at least within Eddie’s immediate line of sight have been few and far between. And even in those rare moments when they’re not together, Eddie always knows exactly where Buck is.

Until tonight.

Eddie taps on Buck’s icon. The map loads and Eddie has to zoom out a couple times to recognize that Buck’s icon is floating somewhere Downtown, just a few blocks from his old loft. Eddie can’t tell exactly, but it looks like he might be at a bar.

He studies the map for a minute longer and then puts his phone down. If Buck’s at a bar, then who is he with? He and Ravi go for drinks sometimes, but usually Eddie’s invited along. It’s strange that neither of them would have mentioned it to Eddie during their shift.

Maybe not Ravi, then. Maybe a date? But that can’t be it. Buck isn’t dating. He would have mentioned it if he was thinking about it, wouldn’t he?

He tells himself that there’s no rational reason to think Buck is dead in an alleyway, and forces himself to take a deep breath. Buck is fine. He’s probably just—blowing off steam, or got a last-minute invite to meet up with a friend or something. That’s all.

Eddie winds up deep cleaning the kitchen, and prepping Chris’s lunches for the entire week while he waits to hear from Buck, or for Buck to show up. Then he cleans the bathroom, before crashing on the couch for another round of idly scrolling through his Netflix queue.

Finally, just as Eddie’s contemplating getting up to get ready for bed, Buck walks through the front door.

“Hey,” Eddie greets him, powering off the TV.

“Uh, hey,” Buck says, hovering in the entryway like he wasn’t expecting to see Eddie sitting on the couch.

He just stands there for a minute, tension creeping over the room.

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna be out late,” Eddie says.

“Just sorta happened,” Buck mumbles, kicking his shoes off.

“You could’ve texted,” Eddie presses, rising off the couch. “I made dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Buck says, but instead of grateful he just sounds—frustrated. Like it’s an inconvenience that Eddie cooked for him.

It ticks Eddie off and before he knows it he’s rounding the couch and planting himself in his path. “Where even were you, huh?”

“Just—out,” Buck answers, shrugging off his jacket.

“Just out?” Eddie echoes. “Where? With who?”

“Jesus, what’s with the third degree?” Buck asks, pushing past him into the living room. “I was out getting a drink, okay? I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to leave the house now.”

“I’m just saying a heads up would’ve been nice,” Eddie says hotly, following after him. “I don’t think I’m asking for much, here.”

“Well, you are!” Buck explodes, whirling on him. “I’m not your fucking boyfriend, Eddie!”

Eddie feels it reverberate through him like a slap. His ears ring with it. “What? What is that supposed to mean?”

Buck’s breath is coming out in short bursts, his blue eyes blazing. “This. All this. Like—cooking me dinner and buying groceries together and taking me as your plus-one to your cousin’s baby’s christening for god’s sake—”

“What’s wrong with that?” Eddie asks, bewildered. Blindsided. “You said you like my family!”

“I do!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Buck’s nostrils flare like they do when he gets angry. He sets his jaw. “Everyone thinks I’m in love with you, did you know that?”

The words come out low and seething, like he wants them to hurt.

Whatever Eddie had been bracing to hear, it wasn’t that. “You…who the hell is everyone?”

“Tommy,” Buck spits.

“Tommy Kinard?” Eddie says, incredulous. He really, really thought they’d heard the last from him. “What does—wait, is that who you were with?”

“No, this was—before,” Buck answers. “When you were in El Paso. He wanted to get back together but then we got in an argument and he said I must have feelings for you because I’m living in your house.”

“Okay?” Eddie replies, because the more Buck talks, the less sense he’s making. “And what do I care what Tommy Kinard thinks? For that matter, what do you care what he thinks? You’re broken up, aren’t you? Did you want to get back together with him or something?”

“No!” Buck cries. “That’s not the point!”

“Then what exactly is the point?” Eddie asks. “Because it sounds like you’re getting hung up on something your stupid ex said, whose opinion should mean less than nothing because he’s the idiot who dumped you in the first place. Who cares what he thinks? We both know you’re not in love with me, so…”

“Yeah, but…” Buck trails off. He tries again, “I mean, you’re right, I’m not…I’m…I’m…” His eyes start getting pink, the way they do when he gets worked up, his mouth opening and closing a few times on nothing

And then, abruptly, he bursts into tears.

It sends Eddie’s heart rocketing into his throat. He feels like he did when Buck tried to move out—like the floor just collapsed under him.

“Woah,” he says, voice barely louder than a breath as Buck’s shoulders start to shake, hands coming up to cover his tear-filled face. “Buck, hey. Are you…”

He reaches to take Buck’s shoulder, wanting to—shake him, or ground him, or just—he just needs to touch him right now. But all that happens is Buck’s shoulders tremble harder.

“Buck,” Eddie says, hearing the helplessness in his own voice. “You’re…you’re not, right? You’re not…” Something stops him from saying the words aloud. In love with me.

“Don’t,” Buck says, voice thick with tears.

He pulls away, past where Eddie can reach. Eddie’s fingers tingle where they were touching him.

Buck drops his hands from his face, looks at Eddie with an expression that Eddie never wants to see on his face again. It’s a strangely, achingly familiar expression, and it takes Eddie a second to place it. Buck is looking at him the same way he looked at him after the tsunami. After he thought he lost Chris to the waves. Devastated, ashamed, like he’s bracing to take a killing blow.

It makes Eddie reach out again, unable to stop himself.

Buck flinches back. “Eddie, please don’t…I can’t…” He looks away, shakes his head. “Please.”

Eddie lets his hand drop, curling it into a fist at his side. All he can think is that Buck is shattering in front of him. And for maybe the first time since he shook Buck’s hand in front of a burning ambulance, Eddie has no idea what to do.

He watches, helpless, useless, as Buck wipes his face on his sleeve, shoves his feet back into his shoes and wrenches open the front door.

He hesitates there in the threshold, the cool night air streaming past him into the house. “I’m sorry.”

And then he’s gone, the door banging shut behind him like a period. Like an ending.

There’s a moment, when Eddie wakes up the next morning, where he forgets. Where he rolls over, groggily wipes the sleep from his face, and listens for the sounds of Buck clanging around the kitchen.

But the house is quiet.

It’s then that it comes rushing back, and Eddie shoots up in bed, ears ringing. He scrambles for his phone.

Buck had texted last night, about half an hour after fleeing the house, just a simple, Staying at Bobby’s tonight. When Eddie checked his location, just to be sure, he’d found Buck exactly where he said he would be. He felt some measure of relief. At least Buck had taken Eddie’s pleas about texting to heart.

But there’s been radio silence since then. Eddie’s not sure what he was expecting. An explanation? A clarification? It’s not like Buck even actually said anything last night. It was more about what he didn’t say. Couldn’t say.

He opens their text thread and stares at the blinking cursor until the screen goes dark again. What should he say? What can he say? When he tries to think about it, all his brain can produce is a sort of buzzing cacophony of thought.

He tosses the phone aside, gets dressed, and stumbles into the kitchen in a daze. He’s so distracted he puts the coffee on to roast without any water in the reservoir, cursing when all it dispenses is a wheeze of steam.

He fills the reservoir and then sets about making toast and eggs. He opens the cabinet and stops, mind drifting back to Buck. To the look on his face last night.

Eddie. Please. Don’t. I can’t.

Eddie’s stomach flips. He picks up the bread. Buck can’t really be in love with him, can he?

He puts down the bread. Well, why not? Another part of his brain chimes in. One that sounds bizarrely like Tia Pepa.

Fact: Buck likes men, romantically. Sexually, presumably, although that’s something Eddie really tried not to think too hard about after the whole on-a-date-with-Tommy thing. Ergo, presumably, Buck is capable of falling in love with a man.

So, why not Eddie?

He picks up the salt. They’re best friends. He already knows Buck cares about him—so much he’ll drop everything to help him, he’ll move into his house just to help him out, and stay there just because Eddie asked.

He puts down the salt. His stomach flips again. It makes sense, doesn’t it? They’ve always been closer, closer than just best friends. Buck takes care of him. And while it’s true that Buck takes care of everyone he loves—or tries to, at least—with Eddie it’s different. Because Buck acts like taking care of Eddie is his job.

There’s a low, swooping sensation in Eddie’s stomach, the way it feels when you go into freefall. Something’s happening in his chest, too, heart thumping hard like he’s in the middle of a heavy rescue, not standing uselessly in his kitchen.

The coffee’s done.

Buck is in love with him.

“Dad are you okay?”

Eddie whips around to find Chris in the doorway, dressed for the day, peering at Eddie with concern.

“Huh?”

Chris tilts his head at him. “You just picked up and put down the same mug like three times. And you’re staring into space, smiling like a lunatic.”

“I am?” He’s not sure he can feel his face.

Chris nods slowly. “Should I go get Buck?”

That snaps Eddie to attention. “No! I mean—n-no. Buck left early. To, uh, visit Bobby before our shift.”

Chris is still looking at Eddie like he’s afraid he might explode or collapse.

Eddie slaps his hands together. “How about McDonalds for breakfast?”

Chris’s whole demeanor shifts as he brightens. “Seriously? Wow, you must be in a really good mood.”

“Maybe I am,” Eddie says. Huh. Maybe he is. “C’mon, we gotta hustle.”

Somehow, Eddie finds the wherewithal to drive them to the nearest McDonald’s drive through, order two McGriddles and a side of hash browns, and get Chris to his summer program without incident.

“Don’t forget, Pepa’s gonna pick you up here and you’re at her place tonight,” Eddie says. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning around ten.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “I know.”

“Hey! You better put that sass away when you’re with your tia tonight,” Eddie warns.

Chris sighs. “Love you, dad.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

He sends Chris on his way and on a whim, swings by the donut shop on Sawtelle that Ravi always raves about. He gets an assortment of two dozen fresh-baked donuts. At every red light, the thought comes back to him.

Buck’s in love with me.

He can’t get his brain to shut up about it.

The shift change-over is still in progress when Eddie arrives with the donuts, and he passes a stream of B-shift people as he beelines for the loft.

“What’s the occasion?” Rosen asks.

“Are those Primo’s?” Ravi demands.

Eddie smiles and puts the donuts down on the table. Ravi and Rosen eagerly swoop in like a pack of hungry wolves on a fresh kill. “Just thought we could all use a boost this morning.”

“We as in we?” Hen asks, gesturing at herself, Ravi and Rosen. “Or we as in Buck?”

Eddie snaps toward her. “What do you mean?”

But before Hen can answer, Ravi’s calling down to the bay, his mouth half-full of donut, “Hey, Buck! Eddie brought donuts!”

Buck’s gaze goes up. Eddie’s goes down.

They meet in the middle. For a moment Eddie feels like everything around them disappears. All he sees is Buck.

He’s in love with me, Eddie’s mind helpfully reminds him. The butterflies in his stomach and the thumping of his heart pick up again.

And then Buck turns on his heel and abruptly stalks off in the opposite direction.

Beside Eddie, Ravi shrugs. “Guess he’s not hungry?”

Eddie wants to follow Buck, to get his hands on him and make him talk to him. But he’s afraid that if he really was to get Buck alone, the first words out of his mouth would be you’re in love with me.

He’s having some trouble processing anything beyond that.

Buck spends the morning avoiding Eddie, and Eddie spends the morning letting him. They get called out for a car fire on the side of the highway, a false-alarm in an office building, a few minor med calls, a crash with thankfully no fatalities.

Eddie focuses on the job, on treating the next patient, and the next, but every moment of downtime the thought thunders through his head, as sure as his heartbeat.

Buck’s in love with me.

And then they get called to a two-alarm structure fire. Eddie gets stuck outside triaging patients while Ravi and Buck head into the flames. It’s not like they haven’t done this before—hundreds of times. It’s not like Eddie doesn’t trust Ravi to have Buck’s back.

But it’s different, watching them get sent into the danger while Eddie stays behind.

He tries to just focus on his checks, on his patients, but some part of his mind is counting the seconds since Buck entered the building.

He’s pretty sure he doesn’t take a single breath until Ravi and Buck are coming out of the building again, carrying someone with them. It’s an old woman who’d fallen trying to evacuate her apartment. Eddie checks her over carefully, finds a likely fractured rib, a sprained or possibly fractured ankle, and some bad smoke inhalation.

He, Ravi, and Buck wheel the gurney over to the ambulance and Eddie gets in the back with the woman. Ravi and Buck go to close to doors, and something possesses Eddie to reach out and grab Buck’s arm.

“Hey,” he says. “Come home safe.”

Through the SCBA mask Eddie can’t quite read his expression. It’s not the kind of thing they say to each other on the job—either because they’re usually marching into danger together, or because…well, Eddie’s not sure. They just don’t.

But Buck just gives a jerky nod and signals Ravi to close the doors.

It takes much longer than Eddie would like to get to the hospital and get his patient squared away. When he makes it back to the station, the engine’s already back in the bay. Ravi and Hen are tucked away in the loft, watching some old movie on TV. Eddie recognizes the weary, slightly dead-eyed look they both have on.

“You get the fire knocked down okay?” Eddie asks. “Where’s Buck?”

“I sent him home,” Hen replies, muting a breath mints commercial.

Eddie’s heart rate spikes. “What? Why? What happened? Is he okay?”

“Woah, cool your jets,” Hen says. “He’s fine. He got oxygen on the scene and I checked him out myself.”

“If he’s fine then why did he need oxygen?” Eddie shoots back.

Hen raises her eyebrows. “Buck just got a little too gung-ho—you know how he is.”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. “What does that mean?”

“He heard there were more people inside and he went back in,” Ravi supplies.

“Against a direct order, I’ll add,” Hen says. “His SCBA ran out of air.”

Eddie rounds on Ravi. “You didn’t check his air? You didn’t stop him?”

“Hey!” Hen snaps. “That’s not his job!”

“No, you’re right, it’s mine!”

The words leave Eddie’s mouth before he can think them through. But it’s true, isn’t it? Looking after Buck, taking care of Buck, making sure he’s okay—that’s Eddie’s job. Whether they’re partnered up at work or not. It’s his job because he’s…because they’re…because Buck is his.

His heart thumps in his chest. He sits down on the recliner heavily.

“Uh,” Ravi says uncertainly. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says faintly. At some point in the past seven years, Buck had appointed himself Eddie’s keeper. And at some point, Eddie had done the same.

Buck’s in love with you.

That low, swooping sensation is back. And this time, Eddie recognizes it. Recognizes the tingle in in his hands, the flutter in his stomach. Recognizes that he’s smiling.

He feels the way he did after dancing around the living room in his underwear—giddy and light and free for maybe the first time in his life.

Buck’s in love with him. And he likes it. He likes it so much.

“Eddie, you’re kinda freaking me out,” Hen says. “Did you get concussed during that call somehow?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, no, I’m fine, I’m just…I’m…in love with him.”

“What?”

Eddie feels a bubble of giddy laughter forming in his chest. It’s only when he says it out loud that he realizes just how true it is. He’s in love with his best friend. He’s in love with Buck.

It’s so obvious, so self-evident, Eddie’s not sure how he managed to hide it from himself before. Because he was. Or rather—he was looking straight at it all along, and just calling it by another name. Calling it friendship, calling it trust, calling it partnership and safety and home and wanting and happiness. And it’s only now that he finally realizes all of those are words for the same thing.

The day Chris was born, Eddie had felt like he’d discovered a whole new type of love, one he’d never even known existed.

Now, he feels like he’s discovered another, one he’s been feeling for a long time without ever being able to name it.

He turns to Hen. “Hey, do you think I can cut out early?”

The freeway’s clear at this time of night. Like an arrow loosed from a bow, all Eddie has to do is point himself home and go.

Now that he knows he’s in love with Buck—that Buck’s in love with him—he sees his whole life with a kind of crystalizing clarity. As if his love for Buck is the key to a cipher he’s been painstakingly trying to decode his whole life. Who he is, what he wants, what he deserves—it all feels so painfully simple, now. He wants Buck. He wants what they have now, the friendship and the trust, the partnership and the stitching together of their lives. He wants what they could have.

South Bedford Street is quiet, and mostly dark when Eddie pulls up. The porch light’s off,  but through the front window Eddie can see the soft glow of the kitchen and hallway lights, and with them, the promise that Buck is still awake.

Eddie jogs up the steps, hands in his pockets, and lets himself in quietly, listening for Buck.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Within a few seconds, Buck comes barreling down the hall, a cardboard box cradled in his arms.

When he catches sight of Eddie leaned up against the door, he stops short.

“Thought I told you to come home safe,” Eddie says, without heat.

Buck shifts the box to one arm, blinking at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hen let me go,” Eddie replies. “After she told me about the stunt you pulled.”

Buck’s expression goes tight and unhappy. “I already got the lecture from her, okay? I’m not in the mood. I’m just here to get some of my stuff and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Alarm bells ring in Eddie’s head. He stands up straight. Looking around, he realizes that aside from the box in Buck’s arms, there are four other boxes lined up neatly in the living room, as well as a roller-bag suitcase. The dark realization washes over him—Buck is planning to leave.

Again.

Hot panic climbs up his throat. “So, what, you were gonna pack up all your stuff and sneak out while I was on shift so I couldn’t stop you?”

Buck shrugs.

A zap of anger buzzes at the base of Eddie’s spine. “Where are you even going?”

“Maddie and Chim’s. They need help with the baby, anyway, and…yeah,” Buck finishes lamely. “But listen, don’t worry about the rent, okay? I’m still—”

“I don’t need your rent,” Eddie snaps.

Buck’s mouth twists. He looks away, setting the box down on the entryway table. “Okay,” he says quietly, miserably. “I just. I didn’t want you to have to worry. The mortgage…”

“Buck.” Eddie doesn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Even now, Buck’s trying to make sure Eddie is taken care of. Because that’s what they do. They take care of each other. “I sold the El Paso house weeks ago.”

“You—what?”

“The deal officially closed on June tenth.”

“But you…you didn’t say anything,” Buck says, still uncertain.

“I know.” He’s not sure how to explain himself. It all seemed so reasonable, so innocent at the time. Buck was going to leave, and any distance between them, after Eddie had been so far away for so long, felt unbearable. He would’ve done anything to make Buck stay. “I didn’t want you to go.”

“But…” Buck looks lost. “You don’t need me here anymore.”

All at once, Eddie’s tenuous self-control snaps. A selfish, righteous fury swirls to life in his gut and sends words pouring from his throat. “No, Buck, I do! I need your shoes sprawled in the entryway and your socks tossed on my bedroom floor. I need your gross whey protein powder in the kitchen cupboard and your toenail clippings scattered around the toilet and your off-key singing in the shower every morning. I need you cluttering up the living room and making a mess in the kitchen and I need you in my bed every night, your head on the pillow next to mine. That’s what I need. Not your rent, Buck, you.”

Without his conscious permission, Eddie’s feet have carried him across the few feet of space between them.

“Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie hears all the hope and fear and confusion tangled together in the sound of his name. His blue eyes are bright, the skin around them starting to turn pink the way it does when he’s holding back tears.

“And I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie says, reaching for his shoulder to hold him in place, like if he doesn’t Buck might find a way to escape. “I’m sorry if I’ve been treating you like my boyfriend or if I’ve been asking too much, but the truth is, I don’t think I know any other way to be with you. You make me want that stuff, really want it, for the first time in a long time. You make it so easy.”

“I…” Buck starts, but he can’t seem to get another word out. “Eddie, I…”

Eddie slides his hand up the side of Buck’s neck, cradling his face.

Buck sucks in a shaking breath. “You’re not asking too much.”

“No?” Eddie asks, gentle. Like Buck—his six foot two brick house of a best friend—is a small animal he’s afraid of spooking.

“You could never ask too much,” Buck says, like a confession. “You have to know. Whatever you want, Eddie, it—it’s yours.”

There is so much that Eddie wants. He wants everything he just told Buck—Buck in his house, Buck in every corner of his life. He wants to take Buck grocery shopping, and on dates, and to family gatherings to show him off. He wants to hold Buck’s face in his hand, just like this. He wants to kiss him, wants to take his clothes off, wants to take him to bed. He wants to make Buck cry and make him gasp and make him laugh. He wants to take care of him. He wants to make him so ecstatically, ridiculously happy—as happy as he makes Eddie.

He wants and wants and wants and knows that there is no end to the depths of his wanting.

“Whatever I want?” Eddie asks softly.

Buck nods. Eddie knows that he means it. That Eddie could ask him for anything, and Buck would find a way to give it to him. He knows because that’s what Buck has always done.

“I want you to tell me,” Eddie says. “Tell me how you feel.”

“I…” A tear escapes the former of his eye. Eddie brushes it from Buck’s cheek with his thumb. Buck swallows down a sob, eyes squeezing shut.

“No,” Eddie says. “You have to look at me, okay? You have to look at me when you say it.”

Buck nods. Opens his eyes, shining with unshed tears. “I love you.”

Eddie feels the smile that blooms over his face, the same one that’s been creeping up on him every time he’s thought about it in the past twenty-four hours.

Buck loves him. Buck loves him.

“Oh,” Buck says, eyes dark and intent on Eddie’s face. And then, his voice building in strength, he says, “Eddie, I love you.”

Eddie can’t stop smiling. And then Buck is smiling, too, saying over and over again, “I love you, I’m in love with you” until Eddie can’t stop himself anymore, he has to kiss him, to taste the words on his lips, on his tongue.

“I love you, too,” he says, when they part.

“Oh,” Buck says, and quite literally swoons in Eddie’s arms, so much so that Eddie has to catch them both against the wall. And then Buck is kissing him again, pulling Eddie into him, going needy and desperate so fast it makes Eddie dizzy.

He’s always liked to put his hands on Buck—a pat on the back here, an elbow there, a thumb pressed to his collarbone. It never went further than that—Eddie never let it go further than that, and he thinks now he knows why. Because once he starts to explore the swell of Buck’s pecs, the soft give of his belly, the curve of his waist, he can’t stop himself.

“I want—I want you so much. Eddie,” Buck gasps. “Do—do you—?”

Eddie wants to devour him.

They stumble to the bedroom, shedding clothes as they go, eager and wild. The giddy butterflies that have been somersaulting through Eddie’s stomach all day burst into a frenzy, and he can’t stop himself from giggling when Buck almost trips over his own pants, and when Eddie accidentally smacks his shoulder against the doorframe.

“Is this really happening?” Buck asks in wonder, once Eddie’s got him flat on his back in the bed, caged between his arms.

“No, this is a dream,” Eddie says, just to be an asshole.

God, but Buck does look like a dream, flushed and sweet and irresistible, looking up at Eddie like Eddie is the sun itself. He bites at Buck’s shoulder, and when he draws away, a new thought occurs to him. “Wait—have you ever dreamed about me?”

Buck doesn’t answer, but he does blush so hard his ears go red.

“All right, you’re telling me all about that another time,” Eddie vows, and then goes back to putting his mouth on every inch of Buck’s bare skin.

It’s not long before Buck’s hips are hitching up against Eddie, his erection making itself impossible to ignore. It’s a new sensation, having a hard cock pressed against him, but one Eddie finds he very much enjoys. He slips his hand into Buck’s boxers and wraps his hand around the solid warmth of it. Buck’s entire body jerks against him and he makes a surprised, punched-out sound.

Eddie meant what he said before. Buck makes it so easy to want, when he’s squirming against the sheets with Eddie’s hand on his cock. When he’s peeling Eddie’s boxers off and pulling him down on top of him. When he’s tucking his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, muffling hot, needy little noises against his skin as Eddie uses his fingers to open him up.

As he finally sinks inside him, Eddie is struck with a wild, stupid thought: this is what he’s been wanting this whole time. This is what he’s been trying to have—Buck, as close to him as it’s possible to be.

They’re pressed so close Eddie can feel every vibration in his chest, every beat of Buck’s heart against his own. Buck gasps and whimpers beneath him as Eddie drives into him, alight with Buck’s need, with his own desire. They come like that, breathing the same humid air, mouths smeared against each other, two bodies trying to occupy the same space.

Panting hard, trembling from the aftershocks, Buck shifts under Eddie. Eddie wraps him up in his arms, still buried inside him.

“Wait,” he murmurs against the sweat-slick skin of Buck’s neck. “Can you just—stay, Buck.”

Buck’s hand comes up to cradle the back of Eddie’s head, fingers stroking through his hair. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll stay."

For the next few days, Eddie feels like he’s getting away with something. Can it really be this easy, to have what he wants?

For the most part, he and Buck spend their days the same way they have been—grocery shopping and cooking and doing laundry and picking up Chris and going to work and coming home and going to sleep and waking up. Only now, they hold hands in the aisles, and when they bicker over condiment brands they resolve it by making out in the parking lot. Now, they flirt in the kitchen and Eddie gets a thrill out of figuring out just how much he can distract Buck from his lasagna. And now, they make eyes at each other at the station when no one’s looking (Eddie’s pretty sure Ravi’s caught him checking Buck out at least four times) and bump their knees together in the back of the engine. Now, they go to sleep spooned together, and wake up tangled up in each other.

And then, of course, there’s the sex.

Eddie likes sex, he’s always liked sex. Sex with Buck turns out to be one of his favorite activities of all time. It’s not just about the orgasms—although there have been plenty of truly exemplary orgasms.

Mostly, it’s how much fun they have. Buck in bed is just like Buck anywhere else: enthusiastic, determined, curious, generous, creative, and absolutely ridiculous. The first time Eddie tries eating him out, he does something with his tongue that makes Buck let out a brand new noise.

It’s just loud and absurd enough to make Eddie pull away. “Did you just squeal?”

“No,” Buck says, voice muffled by the pillow.

“You did,” Eddie insists. “You squealed.”

“You can’t prove that,” Buck says, obstinate.

Eddie grins. “Oh, I bet I can,” he says, and then dives back in and does it again.

By the time he’s done with him, Buck has made a whole range of new and delighting noises that Eddie has absolutely no qualms about teasing him for, although by then Buck’s beyond the ability to fight him on it, senseless and feverish from Eddie’s attentions.

It’s a little bit of an adjustment, getting used to feeling this giddy and sappy and—to be honest—horny all the time. And it’s a little bit of an adjustment doing it all with Buck, who’s still his best friend, but is also now the guy who Eddie spends a solid ninety-five per cent of his time thinking giddy sappy horny thoughts about. Every once in a while, he steps outside of himself and the thought will hit him fresh—holy shit. I’m in love with Buck. Or sometimes, holy shit. Buck’s cock is in my mouth.

About a week after they get together, they spend a lazy, post-shift Friday afternoon taking advantage of the empty house. Buck’s already come once, on Eddie’s fingers, sudden, surprising both of them. Now, Eddie’s trying to get him there again, in no rush, Buck on his elbows, drooling into the sheets while Eddie grinds into him good and deep.

He likes Buck like this, delirious and half out of his mind, reduced to a creature of simple need. Buck is so generous with himself. He shares so much of himself with just about everyone he meets. But this part of him—this most raw, vulnerable part—is for Eddie and Eddie alone.

“Think you can come again like this?” Eddie asks. “I think you can. You came on my fingers earlier. I bet you can come on just my cock.”

Buck sobs, shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

“Yeah?” Eddie says, “Is that all you need, honey? Just my cock?”

Buck lets out another noise that might be Eddie’s name, or might just be a moan.

“’m always gonna give you what you need,” Eddie vows, pressing a kiss to the nape of Buck’s neck. “Always gonna take care of you.”

Buck comes, just like that, breath gusting out of him and arms collapsing under him as he shoots off into the sheets. Eddie fucks him through it, not letting up the pace or the force of his thrusts until he’s following him over the edge, spilling inside him.

His ears are still ringing and his head still fuzzy when he pulls out, dropping a kiss to Buck’s shoulder blade. Buck’s legs stay spread, and Eddie’s come oozes out between them. Eddie can’t stop himself from reaching down to push it back into the lovely pink pucker of his hole.

Buck makes a little hurt sound, and as Eddie withdraws his hand, he rolls over and grabs his wrist, looks up at him through his lashes, and then brings Eddie’s fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

Eddie groans, heat pooling in his gut. “Jesus. You tryin’ to get me going again?”

Buck just flutters his eyelashes, obviously pleased.

But before Eddie can make good on that threat, the doorbell rings.

They both blink at each other.

“You expecting anyone?” Eddie asks.

Buck shakes his head. “You?”

Eddie shrugs. The doorbell rings again. “Maybe a package or something. Hold on.”

He climbs off Buck, ignoring his protestations, and steps into his discarded sweatpants. He pulls on a hoodie—Buck’s—and then leans back over Buck and says in a low, serious voice, “Don’t move. I’m not done with you yet.” He plants a swift kiss on his birthmark and then spins away before Buck can try to drag him back into bed.

The doorbell rings a third time, then a fourth, and Eddie’s seriously starting to get annoyed with this unusually aggressive UPS delivery man when he swings open the front door. “You can just leave it on the—”

It takes a full three seconds for Eddie to understand what he’s looking at.

Tommy Kinard, standing on his front porch.

As much as Eddie’s surprised to see him, he can tell Tommy’s equally surprised. The broad smile he’d had on as Eddie opened the door drops almost instantly off his face.

“Tommy,” Eddie says, unable to summon any other plausible response to his uninvited presence.

“Diaz,” Tommy replies. “I—I thought you’d be back in Texas.”

“Huh,” Eddie says. “Well. I’m not.”

“I see that,” Tommy replies. For a period of what is probably about five seconds but feels more like five hours, neither of them says anything. Then Tommy clears his throat. “Uh, is Evan around?”

Eddie thinks about Buck, naked and pink and fucked out in his bed. He says, “Now’s not really a good time. What are you doing here?”

“Me?” Tommy says, as if there’s some other person standing outside Eddie’s house unannounced. “Oh, you know, just—was in the neighborhood, thought I’d drop by and see how Evan’s doing. I, uh, I saw the building collapse on the news. Thought I’d check in on him.”

“The building collapse was like a month ago,” Eddie says. “Something preventing you from picking up a phone for the past few weeks? Or right now?”

“Hah,” Tommy says, like Eddie’s actually made a joke.

He doesn’t say anything else, and Eddie has absolutely no interest in continuing to make awkward smalltalk when he could be tracing every one of Buck’s tattoos with his tongue, so he says, “I’ll let him know you came by.”

Tommy’s face flashes with something like discomfort. “Actually—”

“What could possibly be taking so long?” Buck’s voice rings out from the end of the hall, drawing nearer. “If it’s solicitors again, just tell them you’re too busy fuckkk—” He cuts himself off abruptly, staring at Tommy in utter shock. “Tommy?”

“Evan. Hi,” Tommy says, looking strangely annoyed for someone who had just professed to coming by for an impromptu visit explicitly to see Buck.

“You’re here,” Buck says. “On our front porch.”

Eddie doesn’t miss the way Tommy’s eyes narrow at the word our.

Buck glances to Eddie, as if waiting for him to provide an explanation for Tommy’s presence. Eddie sends up a quick thanks to the god he still sort of believes in that Buck had the presence of mind to put on a shirt, even if it is the one with the cut-off sleeves and cropped hem. He tries very hard not to think about the fact that his come is probably still leaking out of him.

“I just came by to see how you’ve been,” Tommy says. “But obviously, I shouldn’t have bothered. You’ve got your best friend back, and you even live in his house. Convenient. I guess you’ve got everything you need, huh Evan?”

There’s a nasty little edge to his tone. Eddie can’t tell if it’s directed at Buck or himself, but either way, he doesn’t like it. Nor does he like the stiff set of Buck’s shoulders.

He and Buck hadn’t really revisited the topic of Tommy after that first argument. But from what Eddie gathered, Tommy had suspected Buck’s feelings for him for a while. Maybe even while they were still together.

Buck had been so sure that those feelings weren’t returned. Is that what Tommy thought, too? Is that what he thinks now? That Buck’s pining away, stuck playing house with his oblivious straight best friend?

He hates the idea of it, that Tommy would try and—what, taunt Buck about his feelings? Make him feel bad for loving Eddie, when it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to him?

It makes him so blindingly angry that Eddie doesn’t stop to think about what he does next. Which is slide an arm around Buck’s waist, resting his hand casually on his hip. Instinctively, Buck relaxes into him.

“That’s right,” Eddie says, voice perfectly even. “He does have everything he needs. ”

He can tell, as Tommy’s expression flickers, that he’s trying his hardest not to give away his shock. But Eddie sees it anyway. Whatever Tommy thought the situation was, it’s clear he wasn’t expecting this.

“Well. Guess you two crazy kids figured it out after all.” He sounds like he’s aiming for lighthearted, but it just comes out bitter.

“Yeah,” Buck says quietly. “We did. And, uh—for what it’s worth. You were right. Obviously. And, uh…well, I wasn’t ready to face it and I took it out on you. And I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Tommy just nods stiffly, which seems like a very tepid response to a heartfelt apology that he probably doesn’t even deserve. But Eddie’s not going to complain if it means Tommy gets off their porch and Buck back in Eddie’s bed faster.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Tommy says, and turns slowly to leave.

“Bye Tommy!” Eddie calls after him cheerfully, and then slams the front door shut.

Buck plunges his face into his hands. “Oh my god. That was one of the most awkward moments of my life. And that’s really saying something.” He looks up at Eddie. “Do you think it was really obvious that we were having sex right before he got here?”

Eddie takes in the full effect of Buck’s sweat-damp curls, cut-off tee, and pink face. He absolutely looks freshly fucked. There’s a special kind of sparkle in his eyes, the blue more luminous and clear.

“No, I’m sure he had no idea,” Eddie lies.

Buck turns, leaning back against the front door, and clears his throat. “So,” he says, drawing the word out. “I uh, kinda thought we weren’t telling people yet.”

That’s news to Eddie. Well, sure, they haven’t told anyone yet, but that doesn’t mean they’re not telling people. Chris knows, obviously. They told him pretty much as soon as it happened, because Eddie was unwilling to risk Chris finding out some other way.

He has a sense that the others suspect something’s up, because Eddie hasn’t been able to hide how happy and exhilirated he feels. And as bad as he’s been, Buck has been worse. They might be able to get away with passing it off as happiness that Bobby’s alive and Eddie’s back in LA where he belongs, except that it’s now been almost two months and their good moods still show no signs of abating.

“I don’t think your ex-boyfriend really counts as people. But, uh.” He takes Buck’s hand. “I want to tell people. If you do.”

Buck beams up at him. “I want to tell people. But, I mean—there’s no rush. I know it can be…scary, to tell everyone that you’re, uh. Into men now.”

“Oh, well I’m not into men,” Eddie says easily.

Buck frowns. “Eddie.”

Eddie squeezes his hand. “I’m into you.”

A smile tentatively flickers back onto Buck’s face. “Oh. Like I’m…like an exception?”

“I don’t really know,” Eddie says. “Is that okay?”

Buck brings Eddie’s hand to his mouth, kisses his knuckles. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

Maybe he’ll figure it out tomorrow. Maybe a year from now. Maybe he never will. But at least for right now, Eddie doesn’t really care. Buck is it for him. He loves Buck. He wants Buck.

And for the first time in his life, Eddie’s just going to let himself have what he wants.

Buck sighs, knocking his head back against the door. “Ugh, I can’t believe Tommy just showed up like that. I don’t think I’ve heard from him in like two months. Have you?”

“Buck, I hadn’t heard from him since last November.”

Buck looks up at him, eyes shining in a way that can only mean trouble. “That’s right. He actually mentioned that to me, you know. That you stopped talking to him after we broke up.”

He’s trying very hard to make his voice sound casual and disinterested, which Eddie can’t help but be charmed by.

“Yeah, of course I did,” Eddie replies. “I’ve got your back. I wouldn’t be a very good best friend if I was still hanging out with the idiot that dumped you, now would I?”

“Oh, you think you’re a good best friend, huh?” Buck says, winding his arms around Eddie’s shoulders.

“I’d say so,” Eddie replies, pinning him flat against the door, his thigh slotted between Buck’s. “Only a very, very good best friend would do what I’m about to do to you.”

Buck tilts his head and gives Eddie his very best flirty look. “And what’s that?”

Eddie leans in close, lets his lips graze the edge of Buck’s ear. “Why don’t you get back in bed like I told you and you’ll find out.”

The first two people they tell—besides Tommy, who Eddie maintains doesn’t count—are Maddie and Chim. Buck goes over for some Jee time, and explicitly invites Eddie to come this time. When Chimney and Maddie get home with the baby, Buck insists on making dinner for everyone. Almost immediately Eddie can tell that Maddie thinks something is up. Eddie’s in the living room with Chim and Jee, the baby snoozing in his arms. They’re both pretending they can’t hear bits and pieces of Maddie’s furiously whispered conversation with Buck in the kitchen.

“Well, you were right,” Buck says, raising his voice so it carries easily into the living room. “I am in love with Eddie.”

Eddie meets his gaze over the counter, heart fluttering the way it always does when he hears those words. From the corner of his eye he can see Maddie’s bald-faced panic when she realizes Eddie is staring straight at them, well within hearing distance.

“And turns out he’s in love with me, too,” Buck adds, without moving his gaze from Eddie.

Maddie screams. “I knew it!”

The baby starts to stir in Eddie’s arms.

“Hey! Sleeping baby!” Chim admonishes.

Maddie gives him a look. “He’s my baby, I can wake him up if I want to. It’s about time to feed him again anyway.”

Eddie hands the baby to her and takes her place next to Buck, leaning over his shoulder to peek at whatever he’s got cooking on the stove.

“Wait, so—you two? For real?” Chim asks, pointing between them. “This isn’t a prank, right?”

“How would that be a prank?” Eddie asks.

“I don’t know, like, haha Chim, you missed so much while you were out on paternity leave! Ravi won the lottery, we fought a killer bee tornado, and Buck and Eddie are a thing now!”

“You were there for the killer bee tornado,” Buck points out.

“We’re not a thing.”

“So this is real?” Chimney asks.

Eddie brings Buck’s hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “Realer than real.”

Buck gives him an utterly gooey look that kind of makes Eddie want to drop to one knee and propose on the spot. He refrains.

“Jee-Yun, Robbie, you hear that? You’re getting a new uncle,” Chimney says. “Uncle Eddie!”

“Chim, we’re not—” Buck starts, but he’s drowned out by Jee-Yun’s shriek of delight.

“Yay! Uncle Eddie!” she cheers. “Uncle Eddie!”

Chimney gives them both a shit-eating grin. “Well, you heard her, no take-backs now!”

Buck scowls at him, spatula in hand, but Eddie just laughs, pressing a kiss to Buck’s birthmark. He’s not planning on any take-backs, now or ever.

The morning after their dinner with Chim and Maddie, Buck and Eddie arrive at work and stand at the top of the loft stairs, observing the bustle as everyone gets ready for family meal.

“So, do we…?” Buck says. “Like, should we make an announcement?”

“Maybe we can just. Mention it. Organically,” Eddie suggests.

“Organically,” Buck echoes, giving Eddie that special smile that means he thinks Eddie’s being ridiculous, but he’s endeared by it.

They don’t end up finding an “organic” way to mention it, because all of Buck’s pointed comments about how he and Eddie had spent the whole weekend together pass by without comment. Because, Eddie realizes, it’s expected. Everyone knows they’re still living together, and they have no reason to think the arrangement is any different than it was a week ago.

All of their other attempts to bring it up go equally unnoticed. They respond to a kitchen fire at a trendy restaurant downtown and Buck says, “Hey, this’d be a nice place for a date don’t you think Eddie?”

Hen just says, “Buck, less yapping, more putting out fires please!”

Finally, after Eddie loudly turns down an overly flirty victim at a call by talking about his partner who he lives with to absolutely no effect, he gets fed up. As everyone’s sitting down to dinner, he grabs Buck’s hand and drags him over to the table.

“Everyone, if we can briefly have your attention,” Eddie says. “For transparency’s sake, Buck and I would like to let you all know that we’re now together.”

Ravi snorts. “Dude, we know.”

Buck and Eddie exchange stunned looks. “What? How?”

“Maybe because you’ve both been in freakishly good moods this entire week?” Ravi suggests.

“Also because Eddie announced he was in love with you after the apartment fire,” Hen says.

Buck whirls on Eddie. “You did what?”

“I didn’t announce it,” Eddie protests.

“Well, we’re very happy for you boys,” Hen says sweetly. “Although I would’ve been happier if you’d waited a couple weeks for Chim or Bobby to be back so that this isn’t my problem.”

A week later, Buck accepts a dinner invitation from Athena and Bobby on both of their behalfs. Eddie finds himself sitting at the dining table in their gorgeous new house, getting all the updates on Bobby’s health situation.

It’s all good news, although he hasn’t been cleared for active duty yet, and it may be some time before he is.

“The future feels bright again,” Bobby says. “It may just look a little different than we thought it would.”

Athena wordlessly reaches to take his hand on the table, giving him a look of tender reassurance.

In many ways, Bobby and Athena have been his model for what real, true, adult love is. Love that rises from the wreckage of grief. Love built from trust and friendship. Love forged in fire and peril. Love that doesn’t gloss over the challenges and complications of life, but embraces them.

“Actually,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. “Buck and I have some news, too.”

Bobby and Athena look over to him in surprise. Buck is looking at him too, his expression so unguarded and full of love Eddie finds himself getting too choked up to speak.

So Buck, like he always does, steps in. “We’re together. Um, in a relationship, I mean.”

“We’re in love,” Eddie says simply, and looks back at Athena and Bobby just in time to see Athena’s expression melt.

“That’s wonderful news,” she says. “Isn’t it Bobby?”

Bobby clears his throat, unobtrusively wipes at his face. “It really is.”

Later, Eddie helps Bobby with the dishes in the kitchen, though he can’t help but look up every few seconds at Buck’s face, bright with adoration as he shows Athena the latest baby pictures from Maddie and Chim.

“Hey Cap?” Eddie says. “When you started seeing Athena, how long was it before you knew you wanted to marry her?”

The sudsy plate in Bobby’s hand slips from his grip and clatters noisily into the sink.

Eddie looks over at him, blinking. Then Bobby laughs. “I guess, if I’m being honest? I think knew the minute I saw her walk into that restaurant for our first date.” He chuckles. “A part of me said, you’re gonna remember this moment. It’s gonna change your life.”

Eddie thinks of a grenade in a man’s leg, an exploding ambulance, a hand outstretched to his.

“I didn’t ask her until much later, of course,” Bobby says. “It was right after she asked me to move in, actually. She wanted to take the next step and I…I wanted to take every step with her. I wanted to build a life with her. And that’s exactly what we did.”

Across the dining room Buck’s face scrunches up in laughter at something Athena’s said. He doesn’t want to build a life with Buck—he already has built a life with him. The next steps, when they come, are just a formality. It feels strange, after the life Eddie’s lived, to be so sure of something, but he is. He doesn’t need a sign from the universe, or god, or even his captain to tell him. He just has to look at Buck and he knows.

Late one night, about five weeks after their first kiss, Buck turns over in bed and whispers “Eddie. Hey. Eddie. Are you asleep?”

“Not anymore,” Eddie grumbles. He really thought he’d worn him out with that last orgasm—surely he can’t be losing his touch already.

“I’ve been thinking,” Buck half-whispers. “We should move in together.”

That’s enough to wake Eddie up properly. “What? Buck, we’ve been living together for months.”

“No, I know,” Buck replies. “But I mean like. Officially.”

“Like you want your name on the lease?” Eddie asks. “I mean, I guess I could talk to Darlene about—”

“No,” Buck says impatiently. “Well. Actually. Yes, let’s do that. But that’s not what I meant.”

“Okay, so what did you mean?” Eddie asks. “Because we literally sleep in a bed together every night so I’m not sure how much more living together we can get.”

“I just mean we never really, like, talked about it,” Buck says. “You asked me to stay so you could pay the mortgage—”

“Buck, we’ve been over this, that’s not why—”

“I know,” Buck says. “But I’m just saying, when you came back you put a few pictures up and set up Chris’s room but we never did the whole, like. Combining our stuff. I mean, a lot of your furniture’s still in storage.”

“I like the house the way it is now,” Eddie says. “But if it’ll make you happy, we can go down to the storage unit this weekend and switch some things out. Or pick some new stuff out.”

“Okay,” Buck says, but he doesn’t quite sound placated.

Eddie sighs. “This isn’t about furniture, is it?”

Buck squirms under the covers. “Not exactly.”

“Then what’s it really about?”

“I guess I just…” He huffs, rolling flat on his back. In the dark, Eddie can just make out the edge of his profile. “The first person I ever lived with was Abby, but that was just—she never really asked me to move in, you know? I just kind of. Started living there. And then Taylor and—and Tommy, I mean, I asked them both to move in for all the wrong reasons.”

Eddie rolls over too, perching his chin on Buck’s bicep. “Okay, so, you’re…what, you want to make sure you’re doing it right this time?”

“Yeah,” Buck says quietly. “I guess so.”

“Well, let’s see,” Eddie says with mock-seriousness. “First you catfished me into letting you sublet my place—and frankly, made sure I didn’t have any other options. Then I tricked you into staying after I moved back by claiming financial hardship. I think we’re doing a great job so far.”

Buck groans, burying his face in the pillow. “When you say it like that it sounds even worse.”

Eddie laughs, tugging Buck’s face up by his curls. “Buck. I don’t care about doing it right. Let’s do it all wrong. As long as we’re doing it together, that’s all that matters to me.”

Eddie knows, now, why the thought of Buck moving out had shaken him so profoundly all those weeks ago. Because deep down, he knew—they belong to each other, with each other, and even before Eddie understood all the ways he loved him, he knew he couldn’t let him go.

“Eddie,” Buck whines. “You always do that. You always know just what to say to stop me from spiraling.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” Eddie teases.

Buck turns toward him, body curved into Eddie’s like a parenthesis. He traces the ridge of Eddie’s brow with his thumb. “I don’t think anyone else could ever love me the way you do.”

It washes over him, in moments like this one. The weight of Buck’s love. The responsibility of holding a heart that gives and gives and gives. The preciousness of that responsibility. The fierce resolve to be worthy of it.

“No one else is ever gonna get the chance to try,” Eddie promises, catching Buck’s hand and kissing the pad of his thumb. He folds their hands together resting them on the pillow between their heads. “It’s me and you, from now on.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, rubbing his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. “It was always me and you.”

That now-familiar fluttering feeling takes flight in Eddie’s chest. He’s begun to think of this feeling as an arrow, showing him to what he wants. Or a compass, pointing him home.

“Yeah.” He reaches for Buck in the dark, kisses him, slow and sweet, sliding his palm over Buck’s chest to feel the beat of his heart. “We’ll call about the lease tomorrow.”

He falls asleep like that, curled around the man he loves, thinking about their names beside each other on the lease, and all the thousands of ways, big and small, that they’ve tied themselves to each other over the years. All of the ways they’ve chosen each other, over and over—and all the ways they’ll keep doing it.