[fic] inventing June 2/6

[pairofraggedclaws]

Previous chapter

A shivery jolt is the only warning Eddie gets. He rolls himself out from under the engine, but he doesn't have time to stand before the world jolts again, hard. He can't stop himself from rolling out of control, equilibrium off just enough that he can't find the floor.

Eddie's not even conscious of Hen grabbing him, of grabbing back as he's hauled out of harm's way.

Five minutes later, they're in turnouts, stuck in traffic. The sirens are on, but it's a bottleneck; nowhere for anyone to go. Bobby is grimly silent in the captain's seat.

"We need to find the incident commander," Cap says when they finally get there.

"Cap – there," Chimney says.

She's a hard–faced woman, hair pulled back crisply from her face, moving confidently through the chaos. A knot in Eddie's gut unties at the sight of her; he knows a capable superior officer when he sees one.

"Where do you need us?" Cap says.

She looks them over. "We've got two still up in the hotel; one can walk, but one is injured, and so is one of the firefighters we sent up after them. And we're working on some of the buried areas; there are people still trapped."

"Thank you," Cap says. "Okay, Hen, Chimney, you're gonna head up there. Make sure you harness up, and be as quick as possible, that place is gonna go at some point, let's make sure you're out of it when it does. Buck, Eddie, let's see if we can help get people out from under this rubble."

They shift rubble by hand. Gloves or no, Eddie's hands are sore, probably bruised after only a short time. Eventually, they make a big enough opening, and paramedics rush in, carry a teenager out on a backboard, his face twisted in pain.

Cap hesitates for the first time. "Buck, Eddie," he says.

Eddie exchanges a look with Buck when he doesn't go on.

After a moment he sighs. "They said there may still be more people down there. There are plenty missing; we need to search as extensively as possible. But I won't lie to you, it's gonna be dangerous, unstable conditions down there. I won't make either of you do it."

"We'll do it," Buck says immediately. "Cap, of course we will. If someone's still under there – "

Bobby looks at Eddie for confirmation. Eddie nods.

It’s dark. Concrete dust fills the air, choking him with every breath, and things shift eerily, making groaning and scraping sounds. At times the spaces are big enough to move through comfortably, other times so tiny Eddie thinks they will be impassible.

They move as quickly as they can, calling out for anyone who might hear. Eventually, a thin voice calls, "Here!"

Not a hotel guest, but another firefighter. Leg bleeding, trapped, scared, dust–coated like they all are. Buck talks to the guy while Eddie checks him over. As soon as he does, he knows this man might as well be dead already.

"No," Buck says, as the firefighter exhales his last breath. Buck's shaking his shoulder, trying to peer into those glassy eyes for some form of life. "No, n–no! Come on, man, hold on – come on – "

"He's gone," Eddie says. Buck’s mouth is a jagged twist, tears making shining paths through the dust on his face. "There was nothing we could have done, Buck."

Buck's face spasms with some emotion – and that's when the aftershock hits. Eddie hears himself yell out as something collides with his ribs, and a hand – Buck’s latches onto his. They ride it out together, holding on to each other.

Finally it stops, and Eddie finds that he can move. He throws off a small chunk of rebar that rained down on him. Buck, letting go of his hand, looks unharmed.

But their way out is gone. Eddie's eyes track frantically over the way they came in, looking for a gap, something. There’s nothing. There’s no way out. Eddie can’t breathe.

"N–no, Eddie, look – look at me," Buck says. Eddie moves his eyes to Buck's face, slowly, eyes ticking over a little at a time. Buck looks back, wide–eyed, earnest, honest. "We're gonna get out, okay, we just have to find another way."

Eddie's choking, he thinks. And he knows, with dreadful surety, that they will never see the sun again. He'll never see Christopher again. A pained sound gets stuck in his throat, dies there.

But he nods, words beyond him. If Buck has some kind of hope – Eddie won't be the one to kill it.

They gather up what they can. Nothing like a working radio, of course. Eddie finds his phone, smashed so badly it won't even turn on, and stares at it, the splintered screen reflecting his splintered face.

No time. No point. He slips it into his pocket.

They start to move. Painstakingly, slowly, but they move.

"Look," Buck says after a while, holding up a child's shoe, maybe purple under the grey dust. "You think there's a kid trapped down here?"

"Maybe," Eddie says. It's the first thing he's said in a while, and it comes out dust-dry. God, he's thirsty. Buck tucks the shoe into his belt.

They keep going, on and on. They might as well be tunneling into the earth for all the good it does them. Eddie's ribs ache worse and worse as they go, until he's choking down bile from the pain.

"Please," he gasps, unable to stand it anymore between one second and the next. "Please. I need to stop."

"Course," Buck says. "Hey, take it easy, man."

Eddie can't move from his position even though it hurts like hell like this, on his hands and knees. His muscles are shaking like they’d like to give out.

"You're hurt," Buck says, and then his hands are on Eddie, helping him to a sitting position. "Why didn't you say something?"

"I'm fine," Eddie says, pleads, turning his face away so Buck won’t see that he's two seconds from crying.

"You aren't fine," Buck says incredulously. "Eddie. What is it."

"My ribs," Eddie says. "Just bruised. I just need a minute."

"Bullshit, you just need a minute," Buck says. "You should have told me." He's getting angry now. "You can't – you need to – you can't hide that shit, it's dangerous. What the hell are you playing at?"

Eddie can barely hear him. His ears are roaring.

"Eddie," Buck says, and he doesn't sound angry anymore. He sounds soft. Eddie closes his eyes, and the tears fall. "Eddie. What is it? Is it the pain?"

Eddie shakes his head, bites his lip hard. He wipes his cheeks roughly with his sleeve, smearing his dirty tears all over his face. "Buck. Can I – can I use your phone?"

"My phone? There's no signal down here."

"Just for – a recording," Eddie says. "Mine got wrecked, and I – "

Buck, phone in hand, freezes. "For Christopher," he says.

Somehow, Buck remembers Christopher’s name. Eddie nods.

"Eddie, we – we're gonna get out of here," Buck says.

"I just need to," Eddie says. "I need to know that even if – he’ll hear what I need to say."

Buck's eyes are troubled, but he hands it over, finally.

Eddie looks away from Buck as he starts the recording, the only privacy available to him. "Christopher," he says, and has to fight down tears for long enough that he stops, deletes it, starts over. "Christopher, if you're hearing this, then, uh, that means something happened to me. It means I'm not coming home. And I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much. You make me so happy, you're the best part of my life, you know that?" A wave of tears, he chokes it down, chokes it down. He doesn’t have it in him to say this twice. "And I will love you forever, no matter what. I want you to grow up happy and – live your life, I want you to be yourself, because you're such an amazing person. I – And I want you to know that I'm fighting to get back to you, okay? I'm gonna keep fighting. I won't give up. I love you, kid." Eddie ends the recording, shaking. He hands the phone back to Buck, who tucks it away silently. And then they keep moving.

A while later, they find a little girl, dirty and scared but alive. Buck’s somehow still got her shoe, the purple sneaker they found at the start of this horrible journey. Eddie doesn’t know how long it is after that that they dislodge the right piece of rubble, and fresh air touches his face for the first time in hours and Eddie closes his eyes, and he breathes. It doesn’t take long for them to be found after that. Eddie has to lean on the arm of another firefighter to walk, his muscles cramped and stiff, his ribs howling with pain. And then they’re outside; they’re outside, and Eddie’s alive.

Eddie stares up at the sky. He doesn't want to look away, like if he does he might end up back there, back underground with a mouthful of dust and nowhere to go. He can hear Buck talking to the kid's parents. There’s a swimmy distance to their voices, though they're right next to Eddie. When Buck nudges his shoulder, it takes a slow five seconds for Eddie to drift his eyes to the parents’ tear-streaked faces.

"Eddie really deserves the credit," Buck is saying. "He found your daughter."

Eddie stares at his hand as it's seized by the girl's father. "You have no idea," the man says thickly, "how grateful we are. I don't know what we would have done if..." Eddie can't remember what he normally says in these moments. It’s not you're welcome or no problem, those both sound wrong, it can't be we were just doing our job, it – he's not sure, he can't think of what to say.

He opens his mouth with nothing to say and turns to Buck. As their eyes meet, Buck's smile slowly fades into a worried, assessing expression.

Eddie remembers his line from somewhere and says, "We're just glad we could bring her back safe," in the vague direction of the couple.

Buck hasn't looked away from him yet when he says, "She should be done getting assessed soon and she'll be able to go home with you."

"Thank you," the woman says, and they're gone, and Eddie can put his eyes back on the sky, a faded blue turning to black. He really did give up on ever seeing it again.

"Eddie, come on," Buck says. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and guides him through the scene. There are people everywhere still, a sprawling chaos of humanity, people laughing, crying, moaning in pain. Buck walks them past, past, until he's helping Eddie sit on the back bumper of an ambulance. It's quieter here, and Eddie's body releases him a little from the tension pulling at his every muscle. "Stay here, okay?"

Eddie says, "I will," and Buck goes somewhere.

A moment later he hears Buck's voice. " – don't think he took any hits to the head. He said his ribs are bruised, but I think they might be broken, and he has some nasty cuts. That's all, as far as I know."

"Okay, Buck, thank you." That's Cap. "Now, you let Hen check you out when she gets here."

"I'm fine, I don't need – "

"That wasn't a request," Bobby says firmly. "Chimney, are you free to have a look at Eddie?"

"Yeah, I'm good, let me just wash up," Chimney says, voice worn but steady.

"Good," Cap says, then something else, quieter, that Eddie can't pick up. A single star peeks through the darkening sky.

"Hey," Buck says. The ambulance settles lower as Buck sits next to him.

"Hey," Eddie says.

Buck nudges Eddie's shoulder with his own. "Thought you might want this."

At the sight of the water bottle in Buck's hand, Eddie's thirst comes rushing back. He takes it, and forces himself to swish a mouthful around and spit off to the side before allowing himself to chug half the bottle. It's perfect, clean and cold, and it wakes Eddie up, a little. He's able to actually look at Buck steadily, without drifting elsewhere, and say, "Thanks." He holds the bottle out to Buck, who shakes his head.

"That's all yours," Buck says, holding up a bottle of his own.

Eddie drinks the rest. He tuned out the thirst earlier, as much as he could, but not having it nagging at him is heavenly. On the other hand, it's making the pain throughout his body more apparent, especially the ache in his side that flares into trumpets of agony with every breath.

"Okay, Eddie, get ready to be made whole again," Chimney says, coming back from somewhere. He's grimy all over except his scrubbed-clean hands.

"Ignore him," says Hen, who Eddie didn’t even notice joining them. She's checking Buck over with professional speed. "He's a little punchy."

"I think that's understandable after ten straight hours triaging patients, not to mention climbing a high rise on a forty-five degree angle," Chimney says. "Eddie, can you look straight ahead? Okay, great, great...pupillary response good. You didn't hit your head on anything, right?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I'm okay. Just tired."

"Ribs," Buck says.

"I just need to get home and rest," Eddie says.

"Eddie, man, I'm sorry," Chimney says, "but there's no way you're getting out of here without me checking out your ribs and cleaning those cuts."

Eddie submits. He doesn't have the energy to resist, or to do anything, really. There’s a distant sting as Chimney cleans out his cuts, bandaging the worst of them. Chimney presses a hand lightly on his ribs, moving over them until he finds the spot that makes Eddie groan with pain, flinching away from him.

"Fractured at least, probably more than one," Chimney says. "Eddie, I'm gonna give you some morphine for the pain."

"No," Eddie says, "no, I have to drive, I have to get Christopher – " If Christopher is alive to get; and now it's like there's no air again, even as he takes jerky breaths that slash daggers of pain through him.

"Breathe, Eddie, breathe," Chimney says. "Slowly, okay?"

Buck's shoulder presses against his, and Eddie breathes slowly, mirroring Chimney's breaths.

"Good," Chimney says. "Eddie, you need something for the pain, and you honestly shouldn't be driving anyway. We can help you figure out a way to get to Christopher, why don’t you call his school and find out what’s going on."

"My phone got crushed," Eddie says. "I can't call – I don't even know for sure where he is."

"Okay. Okay," Chimney says. "Keep breathing, Eddie, that’s good. You can borrow my phone, call his school, and we'll go from there."

Eddie nods jerkily. "I'm sorry."

"You must be kidding me right now," Chimney says, and hands Eddie his phone. "Call, and then you're getting doped up."

The phone rings. Sick terror rips through Eddie's body as images flash in his mind. Christopher, dead under rubble. Impaled by rebar. Screaming, unheard, for help.

A woman with an exhausted voice picks up. His own voice fades out of his hearing as he asks about Christopher.

"Christopher Diaz," she says, half to herself. "Yes, he's here. He and a few other kids are just waiting to be picked up in one of our classrooms. He's fine, Mr. Diaz, we took almost no damage here."

There's no air in Eddie's lungs. "Thank you," he croaks, airless, then takes a sucking breath. "I – I'm gonna head over there as fast as I can. Thank you. Thank you."

"You're very welcome," she says.

Eddie stares at Chimney's phone for a long moment before he remembers to hand it back.

"Thanks," Chimney says, and waves a syringe at him. "Now gimme your veins."

"I hate to say I told you so," Buck says, "but I did tell you he was okay."

"Please, you love to say I told you so," Hen says. Eddie rolls up his sleeve. He can't even feel the pain of the needle over the throbbing in his ribs, getting worse by the second.

"Thanks for being right," he says to Buck. "And thanks for having my back."

Buck leans into him harder. "Thanks for having mine." They aren't looking at each other, but Eddie knows Buck is smiling. Eddie closes his eyes and leans back when the morphine starts to hit, a flood of warmth dissolving the pain.

"Alright, everyone," Cap says. "I've spoken with the incident commander. There are some fresh houses arriving now for the cleanup, so we’re good to head out anytime."

There's a muted cheer throughout the group, and a louder one from Chimney.

"Oh, good," Hen says. "I don't think Paisley would be too happy about waiting longer."

"Paisley?" Buck says. There's a pause, and then he says, "Has there been a dog here the whole time?"

"Seriously, how could you not notice the entire dog," Chimney says.

"Maybe because I got buried alive today," Buck says amiably.

"Enough," Cap says, with humor, but sternly. "I am getting in that engine now, and it's gonna drive away in two minutes. Feel free to stay out here if you want to find your own way back to the station."

A quiet flood of movement ensues. Eddie stays where he is, not quite sure what he should be doing or, if he was sure, how to do it.

"Buck, can you help me shovel Eddie into the truck?" Chimney says.

"I'm fine," Eddie says, and his voice has a kind of alcohol-soaked drag to it. Right. Morphine.

Buck snorts a laugh. "Sure you are, buddy."

One on either side of him, they get him into the engine. He sags in his seat. He loves the truck. Loves it. It's so nice. He knows where everything is and it’s cozy, honestly. He could live here.

"I could live here," he informs Buck.

"You wanna live in the fire truck?" Hen says.

"It's comfy," Eddie explains. "It's nice. I love it here." They're all laughing, which is nice, but he's not sure they understand. He wants them to understand. "And I love the firehouse. It's like. Home, or something."

"Awwww," Chimney says, which makes Eddie laugh.

Buck, next to him, is biting his lip like he's trying not to smile. "Buck gets it," Eddie says.

The smiles breaks past Buck's resistance. "Oh, do I?"

"Yeah," Eddie says. He shifts closer to Buck, trying to be subtle about it; he has an inkling that he should be. "I can tell."

"This is such a special moment," Hen says. Eddie sighs and lays his head on Buck's shoulder. Fuck, it's a great shoulder, broad and comfortable.

"Wh – okay. Okay, Eddie," Buck says. His arm circles Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie lets out a tiny, dreamy sigh, wiggling closer into Buck's side.

"Is it unethical to take pictures right now?" Chimney says.

"Yes," Hen says. "Pass me your phone, mine's dead."

After a silent moment, Chimney says, "Oh yeah, that's great. Really captures the snuggliness of it all."

"You know you're free to snuggle with me any time, Chim," Buck says, and then they're moving and Eddie can't hear them over the truck, not able to find the will to put on his headset.

It takes a while to get back to the firehouse. The roads are still jam–packed between closures and people trying to get to friends, family, loved ones. Eddie doesn't fall asleep, but he enters a peaceful twilight in his mind. Buck is so warm, so comforting. Eddie never wants to be anywhere else than here, leaning against Buck, held by his arm, with the sound of the truck and the vague, distant sounds of Hen and Chimney's voices that he can catch from Buck's headset, Bobby occasionally joining in. And when Buck speaks, Eddie can't understand what he says most of the time, but he can hear his voice better.

They get there eventually. Eddie has the absurd urge to pretend to be asleep to see if Buck will carry him out.

"Come on, Eddie," Buck says.

"I'm up," Eddie slurs. He drags a hand over his face. "Shit. Christopher."

"I'm gonna give you a ride, okay?"

"Thanks." Eddie nods, keeps nodding a few times with the momentum.

"Do you want to shower first?"

Eddie shakes his head, but says, "I should. Don't wanna get all this toxic stuff near Christopher."

"I'm gonna shower too," Chimney says. "I'll make sure he doesn't die in there, Buck."

"Okay, go with Chimney," Buck says.

"'kay," Eddie says.

Chimney tows him off to the showers, and Eddie washes himself off, blissful under the warm water. He's done before Chimney, who seems like he might never want to leave, and nods loosely when Chimney asks if he'll be okay getting changed. He towels himself off roughly – God but he feels ten pounds lighter, freed of the dust and dirt and blood – and wraps the towel around his waist. Walking is a more complicated process than normal, and Eddie has to look at his feet to stay steady.

"Whoa," the wall says as he collides with it. He puts a hand on it; it's warm and gives under his hand. Eddie looks up.

"Sorry," he says to Buck, and doesn't move his hand from where it's resting on Buck's chest, fingers close to his throat.

"It's okay," Buck says. Eddie presses his fingers into Buck's collarbone, lightly, feeling the bone. He slides his index finger along the hard line of it until he reaches the tendon in Buck’s neck. It jumps as Buck swallows.

They’re close enough that Eddie has to tilt his chin up to look Buck in the eye.

"Eddie," Buck says, "don't – " look at me like that or we're never getting out of this parking lot, Buck says in Eddie's memory. Eddie can see him in his mind's eye, tousled, lips red, smiling at Eddie. Eddie smiling back, his own lips kiss-swollen. " – do something you're gonna regret."

Eddie pulls himself away like he's been burned. "Sorry," he says.

Buck sighs. "Just gimme a sec and I’ll give you a ride to the school."

"'Kay," Eddie says. He’s burning, distantly, with shame or want or something else entirely.

Buck pushes him gently towards the locker room. "Go, Eddie. I'll see you in a few."

When Buck comes into the locker room a few minutes later, Eddie has figured out clothes and is sitting, staring at nothing, swaying a little.

"Shoes, maybe?" Buck says. His face is scrubbed clean, like he washed it in the bathroom sink.

"Right," Eddie says. He finds his boots and shoves his feet into them, but his fingers are too clumsy for the laces.

Silently, Buck crouches in front of him. He ties Eddie's laces, giving each booted foot a pat when he's done.

"Thanks," Eddie says, and lets himself be hauled up.

Time goes liquid again. One second Eddie's staring out the window, totally boneless in the front seat; the next, they're pulling up in front of Christopher's school.

"When did I tell you which school it was?" Eddie says.

Buck has a look of almost stupefied exhaustion, colorless in the dim light of the car. "You didn't. I looked up the number you called."

"Oh," Eddie says.

"S-Sorry," Buck says quickly. "I didn't mean to, like, overstep. Or be pushy."

"You didn't," Eddie says. "You're not. You're really nice, actually."

"You say that like you're surprised," Buck says.

Eddie fixes his eyes on the school, lit up from the inside. He can convince his eyes that it’s a tiny, perfect model, small enough to cup in the palm of his hand.

"I'm not," he says quietly. There isn't enough morphine in the world for the direction this conversation is going. He clears his throat. "I should – "

"Yeah," Buck says, relieved, maybe.

"Come with me?" Eddie asks. "So they know I'm not about to drive off with my son while totally stoned on painkillers."

"Sure," Buck says, one of those quicksilver smiles flashing across his face. "I can make sure you walk in a straight line, too."

"I'm not that bad," Eddie says, then spends thirty seconds staring at the asphalt, trying to figure out how to get his feet under him. After a moment, Buck jogs back to help him.

"Tell me when you need help, dude," Buck says.

"I'm fine," Eddie says, leaning hard on Buck to get upright.

Buck shakes his head at the sky. "You know, I'm getting why Hen and Bobby get so annoyed at me for saying that."

"I am fine," Eddie says. They start towards the school. Eddie keeps a hand on Buck's forearm to stay steady. "Thanks for doing all this, though. You must be beat."

"You must be the most stubborn man alive," Buck mutters.

"You think that, you should meet my father," Eddie says.

"I can't even imagine," Buck says, and they're pushing open the doors and almost immediately Eddie has Christopher clinging to him. He manages to drop to his knees so he can enfold Christopher in his arms.

"Hey, buddy," Eddie whispers into Christopher's hair.

"I missed you, Daddy," Christopher says. "You took forever."

"Sorry," Eddie says. "A lot of people needed help today." He moves to stand and pain lances through him, even through the morphine. He manages not to make a sound, just goes back to kneeling until the wave of pain finishes. He doesn’t even puke.

Through the haze of agony, he hears Buck coming up behind him. "Eddie?" Buck says quietly.

"Yeah," Eddie says through gritted teeth. "Can I, uh, have a hand up?"

"Brace yourself," Buck warns, and then Eddie is up, swaying and riding another, smaller wave of pain. "I talked to the principal, we're all good to go."

Eddie didn't even notice that happening. "Okay," he says. "Thanks. Thank you," he says to the principal, who nods at him, looking drained.

In the car, Eddie gives Buck his address before falling back into that dim, fuzzy place he was in earlier, in the truck. There's soft music playing on the radio, nothing he recognizes, and over that is a constant stream of chatter between Christopher and Buck.

Once there, Eddie hesitates in his seat again.

"Oh, right," Buck says, and comes around to help him out. "Chris, you need any help?"

"Nope," Christopher says, clambering out.

"Cool," Buck says. "I'll – "

"Wait," Eddie says, latching on to Buck's wrist. "Don't...don't go. Come in."

Buck ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Thanks, uh, another time, maybe? I'm, like, dead on my feet."

"Then you should come have a sleepover," Christopher says, coming over to lean on Buck's side. Buck laughs, resting a light hand on his head.

"You should," Eddie says. Buck is looking at him with an unreadable expression, and Eddie pulls on his wrist gently. "You saw how long it took us to go get Christopher, it’ll take hours for you to get home. You can sleep on the couch, I have extra clothes and everything. Plus I'm definitely gonna make a frozen pizza, so you can get in on that."

"Yeah, okay," Buck says after a moment. Eddie still can't read his face, but he lets Eddie bring him to the house, Christopher ahead of them whispering yay yay yay.

Christopher stuffs himself with pizza before Eddie gets him into bed, and he's asleep after the first page of the story. Eddie reads the whole thing anyway.

Buck comes out of the shower as Eddie is weaving his way to the living room, hair wet and wearing Eddie's clothes. They're clothes Eddie grabbed for Buck because they're too big on Eddie; they still manage to be too small on Buck for reasons Eddie can’t figure out. It’s not like Buck is that much taller than he is.

They sit on the couch together, eating in silence and watching some random reality show that Eddie absorbs none of. Eddie chugs about a pint of water. Once he's full, keeping his eyes open is officially way too hard. The TV screen wavers in front of him until he gives in and lets them slide shut.

He wakes up with a snort as his head tries to fall forward.

"I feel like it might be time for bed," Buck says.

"Mmm," Eddie says. His body is leaden. He'd like to sink all the way into this couch and sleep for about a year.

Buck huffs amusedly. "You said something about me sleeping on the couch?" He pokes Eddie's shoulder, jolting him enough that he opens his eyes for a whole one second. "That's gonna be hard with your ass taking up half of it."

"Yes. Right," Eddie says. He forces himself up onto his feet so he doesn't give in to the velvety slide into unconsciousness. "Okay, uh...yeah. You want sheets, or just blankets?"

"Blankets are fine," Buck says. "I don't think I'm gonna notice either way."

"Fair enough," Eddie says. He finds Buck an extra comforter and snags a pillow off his bed, piling them on the back of the couch. Then, much as he wants to just go collapse and say fuck the leftovers, he forces himself to at least close the containers and shove them in the fridge. He does an awkward little wave at Buck, who's getting comfortable on the couch. "'Night, Buck."

"Goodnight, Eddie," Buck says.

Eddie collapses into his bed, waits for the muddled pain from the hasty movement to fade, pulls the covers over himself, and that's it, he's out.

When he wakes up, the dappled sun is high on the walls; it’s at least late morning. He finds Christopher in the kitchen with Buck. They're both cracking up, Christopher at the kitchen table watching Buck do some kind of absurd dance.

"No, no, Chris, I promise I know what I’m doing. Look," Buck says, and dissolves into laughter again as he performs some of the worst dance moves Eddie’s ever seen. Sometimes Buck moves like he’s a stumbling fawn right out of the womb, like he’s constantly surprised by where his limbs are.

"That's not right!" Christopher yells gleefully. Then, even louder, "Daddy!"

"Hey, mijo," Eddie says, kissing the top of his head as he passes. "You guys been up for a while?"

"Forever," Christopher says.

"Ah," Buck chuckles, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "A couple hours. We had breakfast and we've just been hanging out, having a good time."

"Cool," Eddie says, loading up the toaster with bread. He’s kind of digesting the sight of Buck in his kitchen; he’d somehow forgotten that Buck has been here before. Now he’s talking and laughing with Eddie’s son.

"Dad, can I play video games?" Christopher asks.

"You have any homework for the weekend?"

"Only a little," Christopher says. "Because of the earthquake. I finished it at school yesterday."

"Okay, go ahead," Eddie says. "But not for too long, okay?"

"Okay," Christopher says, already on his way out of the room.

"Hey, uh, sorry if I overstepped," Buck says once he's gone. "I wasn't sure if I should leave him alone, so I figured..."

"No, no," Eddie says. "Thank you, seriously. I wasn't even thinking about that when I asked you to stay, I was so stoned." He shakes his head at himself, several times. “Not thinking rationally.”

"Can't relate," Buck says breezily. "I only have rational urges, like the urge to stuff myself with pizza."

"Guess there's no room for anything else, what with all the pizza," Eddie says, and smiles at his plate when Buck laughs.

"Listen, uh, I should really get going," Buck says. "Thanks, though, for everything."

"I think I should be saying that to you," Eddie says, and Buck smiles like he’s trying to hide it.

By the door, Buck hesitates. “This might be weird,” he says. “But it seems like it’s kinda hard to figure out supervision for Chris. Especially on 24 hour shifts.”

Eddie shrugs, by which he means “it is possibly the worst part of my life and I feel like I’m constantly groveling to my family”, and Buck nods like he understands.

Buck leaves, and Eddie watches him go.

 

By the time he literally walks into Shannon in the street, he and Buck are sleeping together.

Here’s how it happens:

Working with Buck after the earthquake is a startling joy.

In the army, as well as at the firefighter academy, he knew people who were thought of as a unit; who worked together so well people joked they had a psychic connection. Eddie likes to think of himself as a good coworker and a solid part of a team, but he’s never been that with anyone. Now he is. Maybe he’s settling in to work, or maybe it’s several horrible hours together trapped under rubble, or maybe it’s Buck looking after Christopher without Eddie even having to ask, Eddie’s got no clue, but soon enough Buck and Eddie become BuckandEddie. People assume that where one of them is, the other will be – or if not, that they’ll know where to find the other. To Eddie’s chagrin, they’re 100% correct.

It’s fun, working with Buck. Bobby will nod at them and say Saws and jaws, boys, and Eddie will move at the same time as Buck, with the same rhythm. Eddie pries the door open, and Buck’s there to take the jaws so Eddie can assess the patient. Buck goes down in the harness, and Eddie checks him over, pat pat pat and then he gives Buck a thumbs up and Buck gives him a flash of a grin. Eddie, paying out the rope at the top, is ready to stop or start before Buck even radios up, half the time, like he can read Buck’s body language through the rope. A couple times they go down together. Eddie’s body races with adrenaline, with excitement and focus and a strange sheer joy like he’s a bird riding the thermals, coasting through endless blue. Times like those, he could laugh for how good he feels, and he doesn’t, of course, but one look at Buck and Eddie can see the same thing sparking in his eyes. In those moments, Eddie can’t remember ever feeling so free.

They argue, too, though. Buck gets mad at Eddie, and Eddie gets pissed right back, moments of frustration and anger that fade as quickly as they kindle. Eddie thought he’d finally learned some level of restraint, but Buck makes him lose all his hard-earned skill at biting his tongue.

It’s over stupid things, mostly.

“You know that’s not actually how that fastens, right?” Eddie’s just genuinely asking, not trying to start anything. Sometimes he is trying to start something, sure, but not right now.

“What do you mean?” Buck, half distracted, is attaching his radio using the weird-ass method he concocted at some point.

“There’s a clip, man. I don’t even know how you’re doing that.”

“Always gotta know everything,” Buck snipes, and Eddie rolls his eyes before he even knows what he’s doing. That starts a storm brewing on Buck’s face, and this is where Eddie should say something to keep the peace.

“Yeah, crazy of me to know how the equipment actually works,” Eddie says.

“I don’t think I asked.”

Chimney, sitting on the bench, follows the argument like his head’s on a string.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes,” Eddie mutters, and Buck slams his locker, turning on his heel and leaving the locker room.

Ten minutes later, they’re playing video games and Buck is laughing, swatting at Eddie’s shoulder with apparent perfect humor.

They high-five and flip each other off; they smile at each other and ten minutes later are throwing handfuls of suds at each other by the sink, and five minutes after that they’re both genuinely pissed off about the suds-throwing and Chimney has semi-jokingly put them in time-out.

A shift is coming to a close when Eddie gets the call about his abuela, and Pepa’s being just vague enough that he knows Abuela’s gotta be okay, because Pepa wouldn’t keep real bad news from him. But tell that to the adrenaline drumming through his veins. As soon as he’s off the phone and has the all-clear from Bobby to leave early, he’s frantically pulling his phone out to call a ride. Of course, obviously, this had to happen on a day when his truck is getting looked at; everything always has to be as complicated as possible. Eddie has learned this about life.

“Hey, you need a ride somewhere?” Buck says, and jingles his keys in Eddie’s face when Eddie looks at him uncomprehendingly, his mind in five different places.

“Uber,” Eddie says, waving his phone vaguely at Buck.

Buck hisses through his teeth, looking at the phone. “An hour wait? That’s insane, do you think the accident we were at earlier is still tying up...Eddie?”

Eddie’s staring blankly at his phone. It’s fine, right? Pepa would have said something? But what if it’s not. An hour’s wait means at least an hour and a half to actually get to the hospital, and that’s assuming everything goes well. He closes his eyes. “Do you think – once you’re off, do you think you could drive me to Presbyterian?”

“I’m good, Bobby cut me loose,” Buck says, and oh, yeah, he’s wearing street clothes, isn’t he. “Presbyterian, you said? Everything okay?”

“I dunno,” Eddie says tersely.

Buck gets them there fast, using an insane route that involves some shortcuts that seem very illegal. “I was still in kind of a daredevil phase when I moved here,” is his only explanation.

“You’re trying to say that phase ended at some point?” Eddie asks dryly, and Buck slugs him on the shoulder.

It’s the usual. Pepa tells him what he already knows, and he tells her what she already knows, and there’s no fucking solution. Except Buck is there too, witnessing Eddie’s ability to create constant clusterfucks, so that’s awesome. But better Buck, who already knows Eddie is a fuckup, than anyone else.

Anyway, after a bit, Eddie discovers that Buck has drifted over to Christopher, and the two are talking about something. Buck looks enthralled; Christopher is giggling nonstop.

“Where did you find him?” Pepa asks. “Because I could use a new husband. Look at those arms.” Eddie takes a moment out of his day to long for the sweet release of death.

“Seriously, Pepa,” he says, and she laughs.

“It’s a joke, Eddito. I wouldn’t want to step on...anyone’s toes.” She winks, and Eddie shakes his head, then shakes it a few more times for emphasis.

“There…no,” he says.

“I’m just saying, maybe you like him. You’ve given him a couple glances,” Pepa says, playing innocent now.

“Please,” Eddie says. “It’s not like that, he’s my co-worker.” Buck is coming back, and Eddie widens his eyes meaningfully at Pepa.

“Oh,” she says, and Eddie physically braces. “I thought you just dressed alike. Now, Eddie, why don’t you go in to see your abuela for a minute, and I can entertain Christopher and your friend - “

“It’s, uh, it’s Buck,” Buck says, with a huge, bashful smile.

“Buck. You come help this old lady sit down, and we’ll chat a little bit while Eddito visits his grandma.”

“Old lady my ass,” Eddie says under his breath, watching Buck escort her to a chair, and then he just goes. There is literally no point trying to resist. Then he gets to her room and is told that she’s resting, and he should really come back tomorrow. Pepa had to have known that, right?

He goes back. Buck is looking at him, maybe? No, definitely. Christopher, done charming the nurses, comes and distracts him a bit, and by the time he can get over to Buck and Pepa, they’re having a perfectly normal conversation.

“I’ll take him for today, Eddie,” Pepa says. “But you need to figure this out. Okay?”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry, Pepa, thank you.” Prickling heat up the back of Eddie’s neck, that Buck is seeing him like this – the failure that he is.

“I can’t believe your - “ Pepa cuts herself off with a glance at Christopher. “You know who I mean. Stuck you with all of this to deal with.”

“I’m not stuck with anything,” Eddie says. Kisses the top of Christopher’s head, and ignores the look that Pepa gives him.

Buck texts him that evening.

Do me a favor?

               Sure what?

When you get your truck back, can you help me move some stuff?

I finally found a new place

Not my ex’s anymore lol

               Oh gotcha

               Yeah sure, I get it back tomorrow so I can come then if you want?

Sweet

There’s a parking lot, which is great; Eddie hates parallel parking in his truck.

The place has the atmosphere of a hotel, not a home. Eddie can’t see a single sign of Buck anywhere in there, but it doesn’t really feel like it belongs to anyone, like Buck’s been living in a realtor’s showroom.

“Okay, so,” Buck says, not letting Eddie more than two feet inside the door, “I kind of lied, but just keep an open mind, okay? I have someone I want you to meet.”

Eddie has no idea what that means, but it sounds – well, it sounds not unlike a set-up to Buck proposing a threesome.

“Open mind,” Buck says. “Stop doing that with your face. Eddie, this is Carla.”

“Buckaroo, you really learned your manners in a barn,” says Carla, a short woman with a sunny face. “Eddie, I hear you’re having some trouble with the nightmare we call health insurance.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, looking at Buck, who gives him a cheesy grin and two thumbs up.

“Well, I’m red tape’s worst nightmare,” Carla says. “Let’s make a plan.”

Two hours later, Eddie is shattered with exhaustion. He shakes her hand and watches her leave in a kind of daze.

“How,” he says.

“She’s a friend.” Buck shrugs, like he didn’t just hand Eddie freedom and safety for his son and dignity and about ten other things in one fell swoop.

“Fuck. Thanks,” Eddie says with forced casualness, and a smirk tugs at his lips. “Buckaroo.”

“You’re welcome,” Buck says. “Eddito.”

Eddie winces, and says, “Mutually assured destruction?”

“Everyone already calls me Buckaroo,” Buck says. “It’s just you-assured-destruction.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie says, a friendly challenge, but his throat does something, makes the words low and teasing that twists them, well. A little bit out of that realm. Like he’s saying yeah, come on, destroy me, and Eddie does a helpless up-down look before he can put the kibosh on that, follows Buck’s endless legs to the floor and then back up his hips his chest his neck his lips –

“That’s right,” Buck says, and Eddie, Eddie doesn’t say anything more. He’s actually got to head out.

 

Eddie’s life changes just like that. Carla comes by to meet Christopher, and he likes her immediately. The next time Eddie has a shift, instead of driving Christopher somewhere or waiting for Pepa or Abuela as guilt fills every available space in his body, Carla shows up at seven and waves him off.

“Go get ready for work or pose for a cologne commercial or something,” she tells him. “I got this.”

Eddie gives Christopher a kiss goodbye and leaves the house. It’s astonishing how simple it is, how easy. This is what Buck has given him.

And then later, at work, Eddie’s picking another stupid, stupid, stupid fight. It’s 5 AM. and everyone’s asleep, but Eddie woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep so he came up to the roof to stare at the sky and catch up on texting his sisters. Now Buck’s up too, and they’re knee deep in it.

“Is there a reason you’re this fixated on a stupid chair? Seriously, Buck.”

“I’m not,” Buck says, teeth gritted, “fixated. I always sit there and you know it, so don’t act like you don’t – “

“Yeah, well, I’m sitting here right now, so,” Eddie gestures at the empty places to sit, which is, oh yeah, everywhere fucking else.

“God, you’re exhausting,” Buck snaps.

“I’m just trying to sit in a damn chair,” Eddie says. Knows, really, that he’s being absurdly difficult, at a moment when he should be especially nice. Buck just helped Eddie solve the unsolvable, and Eddie shouldn’t be sparking with annoyance and spoiling for a fight.

Buck makes an inarticulate sound of frustration. “I swear you like pissing me off, sometimes,” he says.

“Yeah, well maybe I do,” Eddie says, and closes his mouth abruptly. It’s not so much that he didn’t mean to say it as that he had no idea that he was going to. He can’t even tell if it’s true or not.

“Really?” Buck says with slowly dawning incredulity. “Seriously? It is five in the fucking morning and I want to drink my tea and sit in my fucking chair, so just – “

He hauls Eddie up with ease, and Eddie sucks in a breath, his mouth dry in an instant. Buck holds him by the forearms, firmly but gently, and Eddie – Eddie can’t quite think, actually. Buck’s just, he’s very close.

Buck’s still going. “ – just try to not be contrary for one second of your life and sit anywhere else.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, and Buck’s face softens out of annoyance for the one millisecond before Eddie finishes, “that I didn’t know you owned this fucking chair.”

“What,” Buck says, slowly, “the actual fuck is your problem.” Which is a great question. He looks like he might go on, but he sucks in a quiet, startled breath instead, because the irritation unsettling Eddie has come into focus, coalesced into a gravity-tug of lust, and Eddie lays a palm flat against Buck’s belly, deliberate pressure. Buck closes his eyes, half shakes his head like he’s trying to keep a hold of himself. “Eddie. You – what’re you – “

Buck has a talent for asking questions that Eddie has no answer to. “I’m just,” Eddie says, and elaborates by sliding his hand up under Buck’s shirt. Buck traps it there, then lets it go, and after a long moment takes Eddie’s other hand and guides it up his shirt too.

Eddie touches every plane of Buck’s upper body, runs his hands from belly to chest, around and over the leashed kinesis of Buck’s shoulders, down his spine to the small of his back. He lets a couple fingertips slip below the waist of Buck’s pants, and holds his breath, using his other hand to palm Buck over his pants.

Buck makes a little sound, half exhale, half scoff, and Eddie smiles at the ground. He unbuckles Buck’s belt, pulls the zipper of his pants until they start to sag down on their own. Before he even knows he’s gonna do it, he sinks to his knees in front of Buck. A muttered curse makes him look up to see Buck watching him with hot eyes.

There’s no way to know how much time they have. Eddie doesn’t wait, just gets Buck’s boxer briefs tugged down and wraps his lips around his cock. Buck curses again and Eddie closes his eyes as a thrill jolts down his spine.

Eddie starts slow, feeling it out. Soon he’s clutching at Buck’s thighs, bobbing his head and trying not to let his teeth anywhere near what he’s doing. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does – like his mouth, his lips, are hyper-sensitized, it’s making him shiver. He’s so hard, has been since he got his mouth on Buck, and he’s pretty sure he’s leaking in his pants kind of a lot, they’ve got that slick, messy feeling when he twitches against them.

Eddie takes a shaky hand off Buck to rub himself through his pants. He chokes a moan around Buck’s cock, and Buck moans back. Eddie swallows around him, cups his balls, tugs them gently to hear Buck gasp.

Buck’s legs are shaking, just a little, a fine tremor, and he puts his hands in Eddie’s hair, whispers, “Let me, let me just…” and Eddie nods as much as he can. Buck gets a firm grip and fucks into his mouth, not hard, but Eddie’s cock jerks and he feels himself leak that time.

“You like that, huh,” Buck says, and Eddie doesn’t know what he looks like, but Buck huffs something like a laugh when their eyes meet. He goes a little harder, and Eddie’s making little rhythmic whimpering sounds, hand pressing furiously between his legs. “God, Eddie, God, I – I – “

Buck’s cock pulses in his mouth, and Eddie whines, loud, can’t stop it, as Buck thrusts in deep, coming down his throat. He swallows and swallows and doesn’t remember about air until Buck pulls out of his mouth and he’s gasping for breath.

“You are such a pain in the ass,” Buck says in a wrecked voice. He yanks Eddie up and collapses in the chair, legs clearly unsteady, pulling Eddie down to straddle his legs. “What the hell am gonna do about you?”

Eddie bites his own lip, swollen and sensitive, and tries to plead with his eyes. That doesn’t work, so he says, “You could return the favor.”

Buck shakes his head disbelievingly and says, “Some people wouldn’t act like that and expect anything in return,” but he’s unzipping Eddie’s pants, shoving his hand into his boxers. “Were you raised in a barn?”

“Fuck,” Eddie moans, thrusting into the firm circle of Buck’s fingers. “God, fuck. Don’t act like I left you high and dry, man.”

“Shut up, man,” Buck retorts, stroking him, and Eddie would say something back but he’s getting close already, shivering with it, warmth spreading through every inch of his body, head drooping forward to rest on Buck’s shoulder as his spine ceases to serve any structural use.

Buck laughs and says, “If I’d’ve known it was this easy to shut you up…” and Eddie’s gone, thrusting sloppily into Buck’s hand as he comes, and moaning loud enough that Buck clamps his free hand over Eddie’s slack mouth.

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbles, once his breathing calms down. He staggers to his feet, goes to zip his pants and feels the mess of come inside his boxers. “Fuck.”

“Yeah…sorry,” Buck says. No one has ever looked less sorry. Eddie tries for a glare, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t pull it off between his messy hair, swollen lips, and unzipped, come–stained pants, dirty at the knees. Buck, meanwhile, looks completely put together, like Eddie’s not standing here with the taste of his come in his mouth.

“Hopefully no one sees me before I can change, asshole,” Eddie says.

“Hopefully,” Buck agrees serenely. “You should drink some green tea or something, too, because you definitely sound like you’ve been sucking cock.”

Eddie bites his lower lip, arousal pinging from nerve to nerve, and Buck smirks like, well am I wrong. “Whatever, fuck you,” Eddie says, making to leave.

“Oh, Eddie,” Buck says, and gives Eddie a true shit-eating grin when he turns back. “Looks like I get the chair.”

Eddie rolls his eyes so hard his brain stem tries to snap. “Congrats,” he calls, and winces and shivers at the ache in his throat. He stomps down the stairs, muttering under his breath.

People are starting to wake up, but Eddie manages to get changed unnoticed. Buck comes down a while later and winks at him, and Eddie goes hot all over.

“Are those the same pants you were wearing earlier?” Buck says in front of everyone.

“Yes,” Eddie says, finding out the hoarse edge to his voice hasn’t really gotten any better. Mistake. That was a mistake. It can’t happen again.

It can’t happen again, but then Buck comes over to shoot the shit, and then Christopher wants Buck to stay for a movie, and then it’s nine o’clock at night and Eddie’s closing the door to Christopher’s door, softly, so as not to wake him.

Looking back, it was inevitable. Eddie has a little back deck, shielded from sight by trees and fences, and he asks Buck if he wants to sit out there. They sit, quiet, and Buck’s gaze is on Eddie like a weight. Eddie should break the silence, but he can’t think of anything to say. He opens his mouth once, then glances at Buck and closes it with a hard swallow. Buck makes a sound, a low chuckle, and then he’s in front of Eddie, pushing his knees apart and crouching between them. His thumbs catch the bruises on Eddie’s knees (Eddie didn’t even notice them until he was changing after that shift and there they were, uneven purple marks like ink smeared on his skin, and since then Eddie’s been fighting a losing battle to keep from touching them all the time.) and Eddie winces.

“This – “ Eddie says. Falls quiet again, lets the rest of that sentence dangle and fall away, he can’t even pretend he doesn’t want this.

“I know, I know,” Buck says indulgently, and leans right in, mouthing over Eddie’s cock, half-hard, over his pants. Eddie looks down at him, mouth wide open like an idiot, and Buck peeks up at him, winks, and drags the zipper of his pants down with his teeth.

Eddie bites down on a knuckle to stifle his moan, and when he’s done with that, he’s awkwardly lifting his hips to shove his pants, his underwear, down to his thighs.

“You’re so impatient,” Buck says.

Eddie shifts on his chair, the faux-wicker imprinting itself on his bare ass. “You unzipped my pants with your fucking teeth,” he says. “Is – ahh – “ Buck’s swallowed him down with one bob of his head. Eddie’s hips try to jerk, and Buck hums and pins his ass to the seat with two big hands.

Buck pulls off and sing-songs, “Impatient.” He holds Eddie’s dick in one capable hand, gently, no pressure like Eddie needs.

“Tease,” Eddie growls.

Buck laughs and says, “Guilty,” with one of the most care- and guilt-free tones of voice Eddie’s ever heard. “You make it fun, Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie watches Buck watch as Eddie’s cock drips pre-come. Buck licks him like he’s an ice-cream cone, eyes closed in apparent bliss.

“Fuck, fuck, come on,” Eddie says, squirming, restless with desire and tension.

“I’m just exploring,” Buck says, pouting. Then his voice drops, and he says, “Eddie.” And Eddie’s cock jumps in his hand, and Buck says, “I knew you liked that,” in tones of triumph.

“Huh?” Eddie says, and Buck, well. Buck says Eddie on a breathy moan, and it’s over-the-top and slightly ridiculous but also he’s made his voice desperate and soaked with arousal, and Eddie makes a guttural, hungry sound in his throat. Then Buck is laughing and Eddie’s laughing, and moaning, too, because Buck finally gets down to business. Eddie comes into Buck’s mouth in no time at all, and Buck is nice enough not to comment on that, or maybe that’s because as soon as Buck gets back in his chair next to him, Eddie’s pulling him out to jerk him off.

Eddie turns and Buck kind of falls face first onto his shoulder and bites at him gently when he comes. Now Eddie has a hand covered in Buck’s come, and some-fucking-thing possesses him because he lifts his hand right to his mouth and licks it clean.

“Jesus actual Christ,” Buck says, watching him with his pretty mouth hanging open, and Eddie has realized what he’s doing by now so he is very, very red in the face, and his mouth tastes like Buck’s come, a taste that is now slightly familiar. Buck says, “My dick is trying to come back from the dead now, the fuck.”

Eddie finishes up and shrugs like, whatever, attempting to play it off, and to change the subject says, “What’re you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” Buck says, “why?” and Eddie says, “We should try that falafel place.”

They were all talking idly about it on shift, a little place that popped up near their usual coffee shop, and Eddie does want to check it out. Buck says, strangely tentative, “Y-yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Tomorrow?”

An awkward duck of his head and Buck says, “Yeah. Yeah.”

It keeps happening. They give each other hurried, hushed handjobs on the couch after Christopher goes to bed. Eddie blows Buck again, this time behind Eddie’s truck in his driveway on a pitch-black night, and Buck hisses, “Do you have a kink for blowjobs in risky situations?” but fucks his mouth anyway. The team goes to the bar, and Buck is waiting outside the bathroom when Eddie opens the door, and drags Eddie right back in so they can grind against the wall like they’re teenagers until they both come in their pants. It isn’t like they hook up every time they hang out, but...they do a lot of times that they hang out. It’s just fun, relaxing. Plus afterwards they can just go straight into talking or playing Smash or something. It’s great.

After work one day, Buck gives Eddie a now-familiar look, with an added – ridiculous – eyebrow waggle. Eddie takes a brief moment to wish he didn’t still find the look hot even with the eyebrows, and then nods.

“I have twenty minutes before I have to leave to get Christopher,” Eddie says in the parking lot.

“Oh, no,” Buck says. “You definitely never come in two minutes, so I don’t know how we’ll have time for – ” He ducks away, laughing, when Eddie smacks at him.

“I don’t come in two minutes,” Eddie hisses.

“Fine, three,” Buck says, dodging preemptively that time.

“Sounds like I’m a lousy lay,” Eddie says. “Maybe I should just head home.”

“Fine, fine, you’re great, you last forever, you’re like the Terminator,” Buck says.

“So I guess you’ve never seen that movie, because that is not what it’s about,” Eddie says, deadpan.

“Stop pretending you don’t want to. I know you do,” Buck says. “Come on, get in.”

They’re at Buck’s Jeep. “In your car? Anyone could see.”

“You’re the one with the time limit,” Buck says with a shrug.

Eddie shakes his head. “Come on, my truck has tinted windows.”

“So smart,” Buck says with a flutter of his eyelashes. Eddie opens the passenger side door and gestures brusquely for Buck to get in, trying not to smile.

He gets in the driver’s side. “So,” he says, and Buck’s already tugging him closer.

“Why are you all the way over there?” he says.

“Where else am I gonna go?” Eddie asks, and yelps as Buck hauls him bodily over the console, sideways across his lap. “Ah.”

“Your favorite seat,” Buck coos.

Eddie shakes his head, mostly at himself. “I can’t believe – mmm.”

Buck, just having ground his hard dick against Eddie’s ass, looks smug. “I’m sorry, what was that?” He’s moving Eddie where he wants him, his back to Buck’s chest so that Buck’s murmuring right in his ear and making him shiver. It’s quiet for a beat too long before Eddie realizes he was asked something.

“Uh, sorry, what?”

Buck laughs. He’s smoothing his hands up and down Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie just can’t help the way his legs are falling open. “Guess I shouldn’t have asked you while you were...dickstracted.”

“You are so,” Eddie huffs, and then Buck is pressing his palm between Eddie’s legs where Eddie needs him and the rest of the sentence is lost on a moan.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re in a position to argue,” Buck says, and Eddie can hear the smile in his voice. He bites Eddie’s neck, worrying at the skin in a glorious way.

“I think,” Eddie says, when he can, “you’re trying to give me a Pavlovian reaction to horrible jokes.”

Buck’s opening Eddie’s jeans now. “That’s right. I’m working towards the day when I can get you hard just from making a pun.”

“Might take a while,” Eddie says. Buck strokes him, God it’s good, he knows what Eddie likes now and he nails it every time. The way Buck is using his other hand to pull Eddie down as he grinds against him – well, that’s making Eddie feel pretty insane, actually, remembering when that was in him.

“I’m willing to work at it,” Buck says, over the sound of Eddie gasping. Eddie’s toes are curling in his boots, he grinds against Buck’s cock just to feel it press teasingly against his ass, fuck, fuck. “Even if it’s….hard.”

“Oh my God,” Eddie says in breathless exasperation, then, “Oh, shit,” as he comes.

“See, it’s already working,” Buck laughs, and Eddie swats clumsily at him. Buck holds his hips still and ruts against his ass; Eddie pretty much just goes limp on top of him and reaches back clumsily to pet his hair until Buck moans and stills, hands like vices on Eddie’s hips.

“Whoops, okay,” Buck says, still panting. “...25 minutes.”

“Ah, fuck,” Eddie says. “I gotta run. Do I have any jizz on my pants?”

An hour later, he walks slap-bang into Shannon.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she’s saying, picking her sunglasses up off the ground. Eddie’s in an amber-caught moment of frozen disbelief. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Shannon?” Eddie says, and she goes instantly tense.

“Eddie,” Shannon says, so quiet that his name is barely more than an exhale.

She goes with him to the coffee shop he was heading to, and they get a table. Eddie can’t stop staring at her; something different there, something he can’t quantify. Like maybe he wouldn’t have recognized her if she’d just walked past him.

“How’s your mom?” he asks once they’re sitting.

“She’s doing okay, actually. She’s in remission.”

“Shannon, that’s great,” Eddie says, takes her hand.

She politely takes it back. “What’re you doing in L.A., Eddie?”

“I actually live here now?” Eddie winces. “I was planning to reach out. At some point.”

“You live here,” she murmurs, as if to herself. Her mouth twists, and she doesn’t look at Eddie, scanning the kitschy artwork on the wall next to them. She says, “Christopher.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “He’s doing good. I’m looking into this school – a lot of the tuition would be covered – and I think he’d really like it. He likes L.A.” He pulls up a picture and passes his phone to her.

“He’s so big,” Shannon says. “God. I’ve missed so much.”

“I know the feeling,” Eddie says ruefully. She doesn’t react to that. Too soon, maybe. He takes a breath, trying to force himself to relax. “Shannon, can I just say – “

“Can I see him?” she interrupts, flicking her hair out of her face with a toss of her head.

“Maybe,” he says carefully, “we should take that slow.”

The look on her face is one he knows well, a kind of shocked hurt, like she’s been slapped. Then she laughs.

“You haven’t been taking it slow already? Considering you moved here without even telling me you were here, that my son was here.”

“You’re gonna act like it’s my fault that you haven’t seen him?” Eddie says, sharply, slams his mouth shut a moment too late. Shannon stares at him, and she’s shaking her head to herself, a knife-blade smile traveling across her face. This, she expected from him. He takes a breath and says, more calmly, “I just don’t know that it’s the right time for that yet.”

“Great, well why don’t you,” she says, as she yanks a pen out of her purse, scribbles on a napkin, “let me know when it’s the right time. Since you’re the expert in parenting now.” She shoves the napkin at him.

“Shannon, I’m sorry,” Eddie says quickly. “About everything. I just – “

She’s shaking her head, shoving her phone into her handbag. “So now you finally want to talk. Now that you moved to L.A. in your own sweet time, after I begged you to come here with me.” She stands up, turns away, turns back. “Am I supposed to be happy to see you? Happy to run into you like this, all put together and living life and sorry about everything.”

“It’s not like that,” Eddie says. “It’s not – I just, god, Shannon, I missed you so much, and you just left like that, and I couldn’t…”

“You. Left. First,” Shannon hisses.

“I know,” Eddie says. “I know that.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. “I can’t do this. Not right now.”

And she’s gone. The people a table over are trying to pretend they aren’t staring at Eddie. He tries to relax his jaw, and for something to do looks at the napkin, her phone number written there in angry, jagged lines.

He texts Shannon that night, more apologies, asking if she wants to meet soon and talk about Christopher. He sends a different text to Buck. After he texts Buck he turns his phone face down on his nightstand and leaves it there.

But he’s got no self-control, and he can’t commit to the pretense of not really caring when he hears back, so he’s flipping his phone back over every other minute. The movement gets perfected, a delicate twist of fingertips to check the screen and then turn it back down on its face.

It only takes twenty minutes for Buck to react to come over? with a thumbs up, but it feels like a year. Eddie takes a breath, scrubs his hand over his face, and cleans his house like a madman. It’s not for Buck, it’s just at the same time Buck is coming over. Same thing with the quick shower he takes. Coincidence.

When Buck texts that he’s outside, Eddie’s calmed down not at all, pacing back and forth with his hair dripping.

“You good, dude?” Buck says when he opens the door.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eddie says, closing the door behind Buck.

Buck tracks a drop of water down Eddie’s neck, down to his bare chest. “Yeah you are.”

“Get new jokes,” Eddie tells him.

“I’d hate to stop telling jokes that you love so much,” Buck says, stepping in close to Eddie. It’s only when he pokes Eddie’s cheek that Eddie realizes he’s smiling.

“I really, really don’t love them,” Eddie says, swatting his hands away. Buck just laughs and settles them on his hips, which is a win.

“You just love meee,” Buck sing–songs. He walks Eddie backwards into the wall and kisses him. Eddie’s eyes fall shut, thoughts sliding away as it’s all replaced with Buck, his warmth and his soft, strong lips. Eddie thinks, actually, that this might be the first time they’ve kissed since, well. But he’s not gonna make it a thing. Not when the tension’s leaving his body, his mind quieting to a distant hum. He puts his arms around Buck’s neck and kisses back.

“We’ve gotta be quiet,” Eddie says a few minutes later. “Christopher.”

“Christopher’s here?” Buck’s voice drops to a scandalized whisper. He’s looking around like Christopher might pop out of a kitchen cabinet.

“He’s...asleep,” Eddie says at a normal volume. “It’s fine. Calm down, Buckley.”

“Oh, so you can call me Buckley but I can’t call you Diaz,” Buck says, still in a ridiculous stage whisper.

“Firefighter Buckley,” Eddie whispers exaggeratedly. “How about we go into my room?”

“That sounds great, yeah,” Buck whispers.

“Okay, great,” Eddie whispers back. Now they’re just whispering to each other in his kitchen for no damn reason.

Buck doesn’t make any comments about remembering Eddie’s room, or about being invited over to hook up after a month of having sex in every other place including a few very, very inconvenient ones. He doesn’t comment on the way they’re kissing – the way Eddie’s kissing him – after not kissing at all since – since. Maybe he doesn’t realize. He just kisses Eddie and he undresses him, pushes him down to the bed and holds his hips down as he sucks his dick. When Eddie’s gotten him off, too, with a sloppy and possibly half asleep handjob that Buck seemed to enjoy nonetheless, he blows Eddie a kiss and is gone. It’s late and all, it’s fine, it’s not like it’s a departure from their usual routine. It’s just harder to take this time, somehow. Eddie’s bed is too big, too cold, and it’s pathetic, the way he’s feeling. He wraps his arms around himself, holds himself. If only he were oblivious enough not to know that’s what he’s doing. It’s just embarrassing.

He wakes up feeling like shit, and Shannon doesn’t text him back. He has fragments of his dreams, glowing scraps of memory-fantasy, him and Shannon and Christopher in the kitchen together laughing, Shannon kissing him over a pot cooking on the stove. A family.

The next day, Shannon does respond, and they arrange to meet up, but Eddie still can’t shake his bad mood. Everything everyone does is irritating, Chimney’s chatter and Hen humming to herself tunelessly as she reads. And Buck, full of energy and verve, is making Eddie contemplate actual murder, something physical where he could feel the life leave Buck’s body. The sun’s coming up as their shift ends, and Eddie gets a text from Buck: you can just tell me you need to get laid instead of being a dick

A muscle in his jaw twitches and he abandons buttoning his shirt to text back.

Not being a dick. Not angling for sex. Thanks for your concern tho.

He’s tense with irritation, letting his phone fall to the bench with much less care than normal. Across the locker room, Buck makes a kind of oohhh shit Eddie’s mad face that makes Eddie’s blood pressure tick up higher. He can see Buck reading his text and giving Eddie his famous shit-eating grin, and his jaw aches with tension.

“Chris is at school early today, right?” Buck says, jolting Eddie out of a haze of annoyance.

“What?” Eddie snaps.

“Chris? School? Early? Field trip?”

Eddie shakes his head in confusion. “Yes?”

Buck slouches against the lockers facing Eddie, eyes tired and face rough with stubble. “How about I come over?”

Eddie flashes a look over his shoulder; the room cleared out at some point without him noticing. “I actually have to,” Eddie says, and comes up short with the rest of the sentence.

“You have no life outside Chris,” Buck laughs. “Come on. I can fuck you outta that mood.”

Eddie flashes another look around the room in case someone materialized in the last five seconds. “Dude.”

“There’s no one here.”

“We’re at work, you might wanna be subtle.”

“Subtle like looking around in a panic every two seconds?” Buck pushes off the lockers to say in Eddie’s ear, “Or subtle like blowing me on the roof of the firehouse?”

“That was one time.” Eddie says, his fingers fumbling – still – with the buttons of his shirt.

“Looks like you need help with that,” Buck murmurs, and before Eddie can react he’s done up the remaining buttons. Eddie has a brief and vivid memory, Buck saying, You need some help with that? and pulling Eddie’s liquor-soaked shirt over his head. “Come on, I’ll bring you back later for your truck.”

“I can just follow you,” Eddie says.

“You can,” Buck says, “but this way you don’t have to drive, passenger princess.”

“That’s not a thing,” Eddie says. “And if it was a thing, it would not be what I am.”

“Okay, Eddie,” Buck says in a humoring tone.

Eddie doesn’t realized he’s kissed him until he’s pulling back.

“Sorry,” Eddie says brusquely.

“Very subtle,” Buck says, and winks on his way past. “Meet you at my Jeep!”

Buck takes him to bed, and for a good while they don’t even do anything except make out, lying on their sides facing each other. They stay like that, mostly clothed and jacking each other off, and Eddie has the sudden thought that soon this just...won’t be a thing anymore. He’s back in contact with Shannon, which means technically his plans to fix his life are already in motion, and once Eddie’s a husband again in more than just name, he’s obviously not going to be having sex with his best friend anymore. Shannon’s coming over today to talk; this might be the last time he and Buck ever have sex.

The thought just keeps pinging around in his head, and he barely notices Buck’s orgasm even though he was responsible for it, and after Eddie comes he starts feeling like he can’t breathe. He’s getting air, he thinks, but the air seems not to have any oxygen in it. He’s got a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, a dirty, tainted feeling. Everything feels wrong. Everything looks unfamiliar, and fuck, the room can’t have always been this small, right?

“Dude, you good?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie hears himself say.

“Breathe with me, Eddie,” Buck says. Eddie shakes his head; breathing is clearly a thing of the past. “Come on.”

He puts Eddie’s hand on his chest, and Eddie can barely feel him, like his fingers are numb. Buck breathes in, deep, and breathes out. Eddie closes his eyes, feels the rise and fall of Buck’s chest under his hand.

“That’s it,” Buck says a few minutes later. Eddie opens his eyes again. He’s breathing like normal again, though he can’t remember when or how that happened.

“Sorry,” Eddie says. He can’t look at Buck.

“It’s okay, Jesus, man,” Buck says. He sounds so worried, and Eddie just wants to curl up and die somewhere. His hands touch Eddie softly, rubbing his upper arms. “What’s – did I do something?”

“No.” Eddie pushes himself up reluctantly onto an elbow. “I don’t know why...I’m just stressed, I guess.” Buck is still looking at him questioningly. He says, “Just. Personal stuff.” He has to look away for a moment. “But I should let you go. Especially after being a buzzkill.”

“I’ll feel better if I know you’re okay,” Buck says.

“I…” Eddie says reluctantly.

“Lie down,” Buck says, pushing him gently down to lay flat again. “I’m your ride anyway, remember? To get your truck?”

“Yeah you are,” Eddie says, and then literally smacks himself in the face. Buck’s smile is blinding. “Just...pretend I didn’t say that. I’m tired and delirious, clearly.”

“Of course.” Buck flops down next to him. “We can go with that.”

Eddie is tired. Too tired to try and pretend to be annoyed with Buck, even for fun, or to make himself keep some level of reserve and not let Buck spoon him. Tired enough that when Buck wraps an arm over him, he hums in sleepy contentment and pulls it further around him.

“Hey Eddie,” Buck says softly. “Later – another time, soon, can we – there’s something I wanted to tell you about.”

Eddie thinks about that for a moment, brain working half speed. He says, “All good?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and drops a kiss on Eddie’s head. “I just wanted to, uh. Introduce you to someone.”

“Kay,” Eddie says. And he’s also tired enough that he doesn’t think to set an alarm on his phone. He just falls asleep, tangled together with Buck, and he forgets about everything else.

The doorbell rings, and Eddie goes from being warm and dozing in Buck’s arms to on his feet, heart pounding, in half a second.

“Fuck,” he says. “I forgot.”

“Forgot.” Buck lifts his head sleepily. “What?”

“Shannon,” Eddie says, stumbling around with one leg in his boxers, but his body hasn’t caught up to being awake and he’s getting exactly nothing done. “I forgot she was coming over, fuck, she’s gonna kill me.”

“Shannon,” Buck repeats.

“Yes, Shannon. Get dressed.” Eddie finally locates his shirt, tugs it over his head. Buck hasn’t moved. “Buck?”

“Who is Shannon?” Buck asks.

“She’s Shannon. Christopher’s mom. My wife.”

“Your wife?” Buck says, and he looks wide awake now. “You’re. Married?”

“We’re separated. I haven’t seen her in over two years. I hadn’t.”

“You hadn’t,” Buck repeats in a stunned way.

“I ran into her again a few days ago,” Eddie says, tries for a nonchalant shrug.

“A few days ago,” Buck says.

“Look,” Eddie says.

“How do you not tell me you’re married?” Buck says. He’s putting on his shirt, now, jerking his pants up. Eddie follows him into the living room.

“Separated,” Eddie says, and Buck laughs with an utter lack of mirth. “I didn’t think it was information you needed to have? Seriously, Buck, it’s not like we’re together.”

Buck physically recoils, takes a stumbling step away from Eddie. “Not – “

“Buck,” Eddie says, before he can go on.

“What.”

Eddie closes his eyes, and says, “Can you go out the back?” He swallows against a paper–dry throat. “We can talk about everything, but right now is not the time, I have to go do this right now.”

Buck swallows, once, twice, and says nothing. After lingering seconds, seconds of Eddie vibrating with tension and impatience, he says, “Guess you do.”

Buck shoves his feet into his shoes and takes a step towards the front door. Blinks, turns, and heads for the back door instead. Eddie turns away so he doesn’t have to watch him go.

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