Archive of Our Own

When Buck first asked the question, he hadn’t actually meant to follow through on it. He’d been thinking about Tommy and Taylor and Abby and Ali and all the relationships he’d had and seen how they actually affected him.

He’d thought it was an interesting question, after reading about how the love languages, while interesting, bore no actual tie to reality.

It was a useful discussion to have, he supposed, about what you might value, but it was more than that too.

“Did you know that the Love Language thing was invented by a misogynistic fundamentalist who was trying to prove that men fundamentally wanted sex while women fundamentally wanted goods and services?”

Eddie glanced up from his book to catch Buck’s eye, a little distracted and a lot confused. “Uh… no? I thought you were into that stuff.”

Buck shrugged, “I read the book, yeah. But I’ve also been reading about how it’s virtually been disproved, like, no scientific backing at all. It was originally just supposed to reaffirm gender roles, but studies done have found the opposite to be true. Gender doesn’t influence how you show or receive love.”

Eddie shrugged right back, but sat up a little more, like he was showing an interest in what Buck was saying, “I’m not even convinced I know what the love languages are.” He confessed, dog earring the corner  of his book and setting it down in his lap.

“Acts of Service, Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch and Gift Giving.” 

Eddie hummed, “Surely some level of all of those things are required to make a relationship work though, right? I mean, what relationship exists without spending time with them? Or just, y’know, reassuring?”

“The way I see it is that… well, even if the concept itself is incredibly flawed, it’s still like… a useful jumping off point. Like, a good way to start an open dialogue about how best to make your person feel loved and understood.” Buck was trying hard to put his thoughts into line, because really, he didn’t care that much about Love Languages, but he did think it was interesting. A fun thought experiment, just like personality types. He knew it was all arguably nonsense, but that didn’t make it less fun to think about. “But I do think it’s also limiting. I mean, for some people, sharing movies and shows they love is one of their must vulnerable ways of connecting, right? Like being understood.”

Eddie wasn’t interested in this stuff particularly, and Buck knew that, but he’d always been kind enough to listen. To let Buck talk through his interests and hobbies. 

“Which do you think makes you feel most loved?” Buck asked, eyeing Eddie. He was sitting on one of the couches, one leg tucked under himself. For work, this was about as relaxed as he ever got.

Buck, on the other hand, was sprawled sideways over a one seater, his legs hanging over the edge, phone still perched in his right hand. 

Eddie thought for a long moment. Too long, maybe. Then he shrugged, “Honestly, Buck? I have no idea.”

Buck’s brows pinched up. “What do you mean? When have you felt the most loved?”

A long pause passed between them, the relative silence of the firehouse making it feel like something big might be about to happen. He sighed. 

“Don’t make a big thing of this, Buck. Promise?”

Buck made a show of crossing his heart, brows still raised curiously.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever… really felt loved in a relationship? I’m not convinced that I know what makes me feel loved…” 

Suddenly, Buck was sitting up properly. Blue eyes locked on his best friend’s face, a kind of startling concern coursing through his body. Eddie, his Eddie, his best friend in the world, didn’t know which (fake) love language he resonated with more because he’d never felt loved?

That. That was completely unacceptable.

Buck would have to fix that.

“Okay, so we’re going to start with Acts of Service, because I think it’s the least confronting, and also because Chris will be home soon, and you could probably use the help getting things ready anyway, so that’ll be the first week, and then we’ll go onto—”

Eddie’s voice was sharp and a little awkward when he interrupted. “Buck… what are you talking about? I don’t need you to—”

“Oh, no, you don’t get a say in this, Diaz. This — this is happening. This is important. We are going to find out what the fuck makes you feel loved if it kills me.” Buck argued, dramatic mostly for the sake of comedy, hoping that his tone might make Eddie a bit more inclined to joke about it rather than panic about it. 

But Buck would not be deterred from this mission. Eddie was a good father, a good firefighter, a good friend. He was too good of a person to be able to honestly say that he’d never felt loved like that before. It made sense, Buck supposed, given his romantic history, but he found it deeply offensive, and so he had to fix it. 

Buck, for instance, didn’t exactly know what made him feel loved from his romantic relationships, but he did from his friends.

He knew it made him feel loved when Bobby taught him to cook, made time for him to share his knowledge and trust him with it. He would consider that Quality Time. Time spent together sharing something they both enjoyed.

He felt loved when Maddie reached her pinky finger out to him. When she promised him something and followed through on it. He felt loved when she casually hugged him, or when she kissed his birth mark. He’d always felt loved when she’d kissed his broken bones or the top of his head. Her physical reassurance was what made him feel loved.

He knew what things resonated with him. Feeling heard or seen or trusted. But the idea that Eddie felt lost in that hurt, and Buck had to rectify it. He started making notes instantly, making a plan.

Starting that Monday, Eddie was going to get loved. He was going to get absolutely fucking cherished until he knew which love language — or just what concepts — really resonated with him. 

Monday, Week 1 - Acts of Service

Buck turned up at Eddie’s house at 8am sharp, arms full of shopping bags and banging his forehead on the door to get Eddie’s attention behind all his stuff. Normally he’d use his own key, but that would require putting his many bags down, and Buck simply didn’t want to do that. 

“Oh, god.” When Eddie opened the door, he took in Buck’s entire visage with wide eyes and a touch of dread. “I thought you were joking about this, Buck.”

“I told you I wasn’t,” Buck huffed, shoving through the door around Eddie with a little grin etched onto his face. He knew Eddie would react this way, a little awkward and shy like Buck was doing something huge for him. The truth, of course, was that Buck couldn’t have cared less about all of this. 

It wasn’t exactly a big thing to do. So what? He was going to clean and cook for his best friend. Eddie made it seem like a huge gesture, whereas really, Buck enjoyed doing this stuff.

Well, no, he didn’t like cleaning, but he liked cooking. And he liked making Eddie happy. And really, was it so crazy to dedicate five weeks to helping your best friend figure out what made them feel most loved? Eddie deserved to feel loved, Buck was only doing what the rest of the world should have been doing years ago.

“But this is a today only thing, right?” Eddie asked, closing the door behind Buck and looking a little panicked. He sounded it too, but Buck only found it endearing.

It was so Eddie to act shocked that Buck wanted to do this even after years of Buck proving how much he liked going out of his way for other people. What had Eddie called him once? The guy who wanted to fix everything?

Maybe. 

He couldn’t fix everything though. He couldn’t bring Shannon back. He couldn’t bring Chris back. He couldn’t bring Marisol back. He couldn’t undo that pain or loss.

He could, however, remind Eddie that he was still loved. 

That no matter what else in the world went to shit, he had Buck. 

“No,” Buck answered with a scoff, “I told you, a week of each thing. This is only week one. But I have some different stuff planned too. Of course, Acts of Service is arguably the most boring. I mean, unless it’s what works for you, of course, in which case, we’ll have a great week.”

He started to unpack things into the kitchen, opening the near empty fridge to fill it up with all the things that Eddie hadn’t been buying since Christopher had left.

Buck knew he’d been struggling to find motivation for it all, but hell, this week, he could help with it.

Acts of Service meant a full fridge and a nice meal.

“You go sit.” Buck told him, and Eddie blanched.

“Um, no?” He said quickly, shaking his head, “Hell no. I’m not going to go sit while you cook and clean and do shit for me just to prove a point. At least let me help if you insist.”

Buck huffed, “It isn’t really a service if you’re doing it.”

He turned to Eddie, manhandling him efficiently back into a seat at the kitchen table. “You sit. I’ll cook. You can keep me company.”

Eddie still seemed uncomfortable, but he acquiesced, for the time being at least. 

So Buck started cooking. He had texted Abuela for one of Eddie’s favourite recipes, even asking for specific instructions — which she was kind enough to give him, complete with videos filmed far too close to her face. He put on some music he knew Eddie liked, stuff he’d heard him turn up on the radio or hum during work breaks. He did the dishes as he cooked, leaving nothing for Eddie to do.

By the time they sat down to eat their lunch (because yes, cooking had taken that long), Eddie looked a little sheepish. 

“Why are you doing this?”

His voice was too serious, too concerned, and Buck knew it was guilt. He knew and he hated it.

“Because you deserve it.”

Eddie shook his head again, “Words of Affirmation is later.”

Buck sighed, reached out a hand and patted Eddie’s wrist. “I’m serious, man. I know you’re not feeling so good lately, and I know there’s not much I can do about that, but I have no ulterior motives besides that I care about you, and I think you deserve to feel cared about.”

Eddie seemed genuinely uncomfortable as he fidgeted with the seam of his shirt, eyes avoiding Buck’s to their best of their ability. And Buck, he didn’t care. If Eddie had to avoid his eyes, that was fine. If he was shy or something, Buck was fine to help him with that. As long as he felt special, Buck had achieved his job. 

“You know, all of this would go quicker if you rolled it up into one. I mean, we also spent quality time together this morning too. And you could argue that filling my fridge and cooking food that I love is also gift giving.” Eddie was trying to minimise it, but the harder he tried, the more determined Buck became to be truly annoying about it.

“They all blend together.” Buck agreed, “But that doesn’t mean I can’t do them all separately too. The emphasis will just change.”

And so they went on. After eating, Buck turned to cleaning. He vacuumed, scrubbed the kitchen, cleared any cobwebs off the boards of windows. 

He went out of his way to do little jobs he knew Eddie hated. Acts of Service, he knew, wasn’t just about actively doing big things.

Buck and Eddie already implemented this particular love language pretty consistently. Buck drove Eddie to work often, for instance. They regularly grocery shopped together. 

Buck helped Eddie rebuild his room after Eddie’s breakdown. He’d always fallen fairly naturally into Eddie’s life in that way, turning up when necessary.

When Buck turned up to pick Eddie up for their shift on Tuesday morning, Eddie didn’t even react. He slid into the passenger seat and turned Buck’s playlist (Eddie’s playlist) up higher. As it was, the playlist was already made up of songs Buck knew Eddie liked, so even that was hardly new.

It was hardly new when Buck picked up Eddie’s mug an hour into their shift and washed it with his own.

It wasn’t new when Buck fetched them both a muesli bar three hours into their shift.

It wasn’t new when Buck held out a hand to help Eddie get into the truck easily on an urgent call when he’d only gotten his turnouts half on. 

No one asked or commented because nothing about it was new or different. Sure, Buck was maybe a little extra proactive about it, but he’d always just sort of done things for Eddie, so when nobody reacted to that, Buck didn’t either.

By day four of the first week, Buck had filled up Eddie’s tank, refilled his fridge, waxed his car and trimmed his hedges.

Eddie was thankful but also mildly awkward about it, and when Buck said he thought he was out of ideas, Eddie laughed and said he was ready for week two. 

Monday, Week 2 - Quality Time

Quality time, as it turned out, was just as par for the course as Acts of Service had been. 

Sure, Buck was there all the time, but Buck had been there all the time long before he decided unilaterally to force his love upon his best friend.

Of course, the major difference in Week 2 was that a week of quality time also meant a week of…

“Tommy.” Eddie’s eyes flickered between the two of them at the front door, a bit lost, like he couldn’t quite figure out how he’d come to have Tommy Kinard standing at his front door. “What are you—?”

“It’s Quality Time, Eddie.” Buck reminded seriously, pushing past Eddie into the house. “And so the three of us are going to spend some quality time! I figured watching a movie was a little too obvious, especially since we do it all the time, so we’re going to do a puzzle. The three of us. Won’t that be fun?”

Buck was ninety nine percent sure that he was the only one who was really believing the amount of fun he insisted they would be having.

“So… why a puzzle?” Eddie looked genuinely distressed by the puzzle box Buck was setting up on his kitchen table, a nervous and fidgety quality to him. 

“Well,” Buck began with a shrug, “I guess I thought it would be fun? I mean, we already hang out all the time, but for quality time to count, it really has to be proper time.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkled, “We already do that.”

“I tried to tell him that. He insisted it had to be even more.”

How did Buck subtly let Eddie know that this was the exact problem? That Tommy had insisted they already spent enough time together and Tommy coming had been a compromise? How did he explain that it was just meant to be them? And what did it say about him that he needed to explain all that to Eddie instead of Tommy? 

“Well, now it’s quality time for all of us.” Buck made a show of his optimism, wishing Tommy could just be a good sport and stop being annoying about it.

Obviously that was asking too much from Tommy. “You know, babe, love languages don’t generally need to be applied to casual friendships.”

“Casual for who?” Buck dismissed the comment as he dumped the puzzle pieces out. He was really refraining from reminding Tommy that no one had forced him to come with. 

“I don’t trust you,” Buck announced an hour or two into puzzling. When Tommy only laughed and went on, Buck huffed. Tommy’s strategy was to find all the green pieces. Which was fine if you were a total psycho, but a normal person always tried to find the edges first, right? The corners and edges to lay out a foundation.

So why then, Buck wondered, did his boyfriend have the worst strategy of all time?

Buck knew it was irrational and a little stupid to wish he hadn’t invited Tommy. He knew that Tommy would feel far weirder about Buck doing all his love languages experimenting if he wasn’t involved explicitly. He knew Tommy would argue that they needed quality time more than Buck did with Eddie.

But Eddie and Buck weren’t the only people in the world who preferred the company of their best friend to their romantic partner, right?

Tommy, after all, was new. Eddie was Eddie. 

Eddie was the man who Buck had hovered over, pleading with him to just keep breathing, tasting his blood and wishing, wishing, that he could offer himself up at some altar, do whatever needed to be done to trade his blood for Eddie’s. 

Tommy put down a two piece of puzzle, that belonged somewhere in the middle right, and he fought the urge to scoff.

Buck had half the bottom of the puzzle laid out. Eddie had much of the right side.

But sure, Tommy and his dumb strategy had a two-piecer. 

Quality Time was annoying, Buck found, when the person you were spending it with couldn’t do puzzles right.

“You two can do the walls, I’m not taking the easy way out.” Tommy told him, smiling as though the whole thing was cute or charming in some way.

Of course, it wasn’t. Buck knew he was being petty, that Tommy being bad at puzzles wasn’t a big deal, it was just that when you put your best friend up next to your new boyfriend and one of them felt like the intruder, it was a little stupid to try to ignore it.

Buck figured that was a later problem. Tommy would grow on him, people he dated always did in the end. 

Eddie snorted a laugh, “Just because something makes the most logical sense, doesn’t make it the easy way out, Kinard.”

“Ah, being ganged up on by my boy toy and his boy toy. Cute.”

Buck’s nose wrinkled up, and Eddie paused to shoot Tommy a definite stink eye. Both of the actions only made Tommy laugh. 

At least he thought he was funny, Buck supposed, because neither of them were laughing. 

“I changed my mind,” Eddie joked to Buck, though Buck suspected it wasn’t entirely a joke. “Quality time definitely isn’t my love language, can we go on to the next one?”

And Buck would love to agree, except he’d already had this argument with Tommy. He couldn’t back out on it now.

(“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that you want to spend a whole week with your best friend and no one else? I mean, you’re literally in a relationship with me and not him.”

“So? It’s a thing we’re doing. An experiment. And besides, wanting to spend time with my best friend isn’t weird.”

“Doing it at the loss of time with your partner is.”)

Tommy shrugged, “I don’t know, man, you and I haven’t hung out in ages. Maybe it’s good to do quality time anyway.”

Eddie looked genuinely bereft by the statement and Buck wondered if he’d done something to hurt their friendship. He could step back. Could give them more space and time. It would be a long week, but…

“That’s what puzzle time is for, right?” Eddie answered, smiling in a way that Buck thought might be convincing to anyone but him. 

It was hours of uncomfortable jokes later that Buck and Eddie’s phones buzzed in tandem on the table.

Tommy, who was doing a poor job of pretending not to be irritated by any moment he felt left out by the two of them, just sighed deeply. 

Buck was resigned to never suggesting quality time between the three again.

Piglet: Should you two leave the house?

Their group chat — Two and a Half Men — rarely got touched these days. But there Christopher’s name and photo was. Like everything was a little more normal than it was.

He’d been Piglet since well before the drama, and though their chat hadn’t been used since, the relief of seeing the casual nickname unchanged was bright and fresh and real.

 Christopher had said he was coming home soon, that was why Buck started with Acts of Service. But still, the level of normalcy of a text like that sent a shot of adrenaline through Buck, and he glanced up at Eddie on a grin. 

Tigger: how do you know we’re not out doing something super fun right now?

Eddie’s eyes were glassy. Buck wanted to hug him. Tommy was also present.

Piglet: u 2 still have ur location sharing on. duh

Piglet: ur bitmojis are crimes against humanity btw

Tigger: yours sucks too?

Piglet: u made mine, that’s also your crime 

Eddie’s read receipts kept on appearing, but he didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t type. Was he too afraid to break the moment?

Piglet: r u having a seance or something? i’m already coming home before the next full moon

Buck sent back a picture of the puzzle on 0.5 camera, so that Eddie and Tommy were captured in it as well.

So Christopher could see Eddie was doing well. That he wasn’t sitting around being weird and broody like Christopher had once implied he worried about. Of course, he had been weird and broody at first, but Buck wouldn’t ever betray that trust.

Piglet: oh… 

Piglet: lego man #1 is there

Eeyore: Christopher 

Piglet: what? does he not look like a cop lego man? 

Chris attached a photo collage, one half taken up by a photo of Tommy from their medal ceremony, the other a photo of a Lego Man, side by side and… slightly uncanny. 

Piglet: It’s the cheekbone lines

Piglet: Also he’s square shaped

Eeyore: Yes, Tommy is with us. We’re doing a puzzle.

Piglet: eww. next time we do a puzzle, it’s gonna be just the 3 of us. no extras 

Piglet: can’t believe ur doing that one without me

Piglet: traitors  

Tigger: Maybe you shouldn’t have left LA

Piglet: touché

Piglet: we have to get a new one now though, no double ups

On day two of his Quality Time week, Buck took Eddie for a hike.

They didn’t have a shift until the following day, but Tommy had one, so Buck took the opportunity.

He packed a picnic, wore his comfiest hiking gear and took Eddie out. The lookout was beautiful, and the weather was lovely, and Buck knew that Eddie would love it.

He knew Eddie would appreciate the time just the two of them. He knew Eddie would appreciate the effort, and he knew that the two of them alone on a mountain was about as undivided as his private time ever got.

They didn’t talk much on the way in, briefly discussing Hen and how it seemed like she’d be getting Mara home soon based on what Chim had said.

They briefly discussed Buck’s plans to buy a new couch for his loft, after Buck said his old one had been — shockingly — uncomfortable and ill fitted. 

They briefly discussed the puzzle, and how Eddie planned to do more of it in the evenings he was home while he ate, because he found it more fulfilling than watching trash tv in the background.

It wasn’t until they made it to their little camping summit that they sat and talked properly. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

It was, after all, Quality Time.

“Doesn’t it bother you that Tommy always calls you Evan?”

It was a fair question, but also a careful one. Buck wasn’t oblivious to the way the others seemed mildly irritated by Tommy, but that was okay. No one had particularly liked Taylor. And anyway, Buck had a tendency to focus less on whether he liked people and more on whether they liked him.

He’d never been good at spotting the difference between wanting to be chosen for the sake of being chosen, and wanting to be chosen because he truly liked the person making the choice.

“Mm, kinda.” Buck admitted with a shrug, sucking one of the cordial pops he’d made and packed for them, keeping them carefully frozen, knowing they were Eddie’s favourite flavour and that he overheated climbing. “I mean, I guess. I’ve corrected him so many times, and he doesn’t even really address it. It’s more weird than anything. I think if he said like, y’know, I like Evan better, that’d be one thing, but he kind of just laughs.”

Buck hummed, licking at his icy pop again. 

“He always laughs at weird times, have you ever noticed that? I’ll be joking and he looks at me all serious, but then I’ll ask him why he only calls me Evan and he laughs. Kinda makes me feel a bit like I’m on the Truman Show or something.”

Eddie flashed him a grin, “The Truman Show? Does that mean this is the part where I tell you in a super heartfelt way that it couldn’t all be fake, because that would mean I was fakin’ ya too, and I wouldn’t lie to you like that?” He put on a bit of an accent, leaning closer playfully, and Buck grinned.

Eddie seemed better. It had only been a week and a bit, but the love language thing felt like it was working. Like Eddie knowing Buck was actively trying to make him feel good had breathed some life back into him again.

Buck thought all this effort was a pretty small price to pay.

“Yeah. That or you have to sneak me out to a beach to tell me the truth.”

Eddie grinned, “Oh? So you’re making a collage of me in your basement then, is that it?”

They both started laughing a little. The idea of Buck being the star of something like The Truman Show was ridiculous for a lot of reasons. For a start because it was pure science fiction, but also because Buck’s own parents had no memories of him as a child. Him as some famous baby everyone in the world cared about? It was almost ludicrously unfitting as a metaphor for Buck’s life. 

“Would you leave?” Eddie asked softly. “If you were Truman.”

He didn’t know how they’d gotten there, but Buck never quite knew how their conversations got places. He was happy just to be swept away in the wave of wherever he and Eddie went together, happy enough to talk and think and be with him, in whatever way their quality time together allowed.

“Yes,” He said softly, “You know, I felt a little like Truman. When I had my coma dream.” Buck couldn’t fully explain why or how, but it had felt that way. His brain, he supposed, would have lit up like a Christmas Tree on those scans, but what Buck chose was what he’d already had. His imperfect, beautiful life. “I could’ve stayed in that dream. I could’ve had peace. I could’ve been a teacher with a family who loved him. People… would’ve been worse off by me leaving, but some would’ve been better off too. You and Bobby and Maddie and Chim, you were all worse off, but… I had the family I’d always wanted. My brother and my parents who loved me and…”

“And you picked being a hero?”

Buck sighed, raised his shoulders in a shrug. “I picked my real family. I picked the world where I introduced you to Carla.”

Eddie seemed deep in thought for a long moment, and then he mumbled, “Buck… you know your biggest contribution in my life wasn’t Carla, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

Buck sighed, glancing up. The view was pretty. Flickering illusions where the sky met the ground, moments of nature seeming so real and so tangible even in its most conceptual sense. He was tired and sweaty and he felt a little like he was sitting on the edge of the life he had and what he wanted it to be. air was irrational, but he felt like that sometimes, with Eddie. So close to something, but so far from it too.

“I know we’re best friends. But in terms of actual, tangible input, I…”

“No, Buck.” Eddie said the words quick, squeezing Buck’s sweaty knee. “Your actual, tangible input to me is more than Carla. It’s more than Chris too, man.”

Buck didn’t know how to answer. He took a sharp breath.

“Buck… I know this week isn’t Words of Affirmation, and I… suck at affirming people, but you… are too important to think…”

He looked pained, and Buck took pity on him.

“Eds, hey. It’s cool. I chose to leave the Truman Show, man. I walked up those stairs. Or I… threw a chair through glass, whichever. The point is, I don’t regret shit. You and Chris, I’d pick you. No questions asked.”

Eddie sighed, looking a little irritated at himself. Buck understood, Eddie was still working on his own struggles with communication. Therapy was good and helpful, but years of telling yourself not to be a burden on others could make it really damn hard to express yourself.

Buck, weirdly, had made his peace with being a burden far too long ago to suffer that same fate. 

On Day Three of Quality Time week, Buck was still driving Eddie to work. This time though, they were doing it, like, intentionally or some shit. Spending the time for the sake of spending time together, and not as a favour.

This, ironically, was still not enough to trigger anyone as to what was happening, because it still wasn’t particularly abnormal for them. Buck and Eddie were attached. Buck and Eddie went to work together. Buck and Eddie sat intentionally close even when they completed parallel play time. Buck and Eddie were Buck and Eddie, and it was almost embarrassing that no one questioned their codependence.

On Day Five, after Eddie and Buck had walked around a IKEA together looking for new decor to freshen up the place (something about wanting Christopher to feel excited about home again) for several hours, Eddie finally broached a question Buck had been contemplating himself for a while.

“So, these are all smushing into each other.” He told Buck as they turned another particularly confusing corner. 

Buck was nearly convinced they were going to have to get haircuts and change their names or something, since they sure as shit weren’t getting out of IKEA any time soon.

“Yeah, they do that on purpose, it’s so that people will be more tempted to buy things they don’t—”

“No, Buck, the Love Languages thing.” He said quickly, fidgeting with an ice cube sheet he’d put in the cart that made the ice into little frogs of various poses. “They’re all moulding together already. I mean, yeah, you’re spending quality time with me right now, but it could also be seen as an act of service, since you drove and are keeping me company. We hiked, but you planned it all and bought cordial pops. That could be a gift or an act of service. They’re not distinct enough not to all kind of glob together.”

Buck, as it happened, had considered all of this.

He’d thought about how to keep them separate and come to the conclusion that —

“Who cares?”

Eddie stopped dead, staring at him.

“What?”

“Well, really, who cares? They all bleed together, for sure, but surely by now you can already tell whether you like me doing things for or with you better?” He paused, “And anyway, we’ve talked about this, love languages are only a jumping off point for communication. The idea is that you find a better idea of what you value and bring to a relationship, not that you figure out what you like, foregoing all other kindnesses. I’m not going to stop complimenting you if Words of Affirmation ranks lowest for you at the end. I’ll just note that it might be more helpful for you if I give you a hug instead. You know?”

Eddie was still, forearms folded across his trolley, dark eyes sizing Buck up.

“Why don’t you do this with Tommy?”

Buck frowned, “Do you… want me to do it with Tommy?”

Eddie sighed, “No. I mean, obviously not. It’s… a fun experiment to do together, but… why would you pick me to do it with? Tommy clearly thinks it’s weird.”

Buck huffed, taking over pushing their cart for Eddie and making his way towards picture frames they definitely didn't need (Buck already knew he’d buy at least seven before he moved). 

“I don’t care what Tommy thinks.” Buck pushed on as he walked, frustrated by the mention of his grumpy boyfriend. “I mean, it’s not really my fault that he lacks whimsy and fun in his life, but I think the idea of testing out the love languages is a really fun way to make sure people in your life feel, well, loved. Appreciated. Absolutely fucking cherished, goddamnit.”

Eddie went quiet, but he looked genuinely concerned. 

“Anyway, Tommy is too easy. I know what Tommy wants in a relationship. Tommy likes it when I cook him steak. He likes the fancy wine my parents sent me for winning the medal that Maddie definitely put them up to. He likes full first names and the pair of boxers he pretends to think are too skimpy for a man my age. He likes missionary and war movies and MMA fights recorded to skip the ads. He doesn’t like learning about animal facts, and he doesn’t like nicknames, except when they’re his own.”

There was a long silence, and Buck put three picture frames in his cart, knowing exactly which pictures of him, Chris and Eddie he wanted to print to put in them in his loft.

“You ready to go get meatballs soon? I think we’ve earned meatballs.”

Monday, Week 3 - Gift Giving  

This week was always going to be a little more noticeable. 

Buck did give gifts anyway, in the sense that he handed out coffee and bagels sometimes. 

What he didn’t do, was go all out all the time. Except, this week, he did. 

He had plans too. Weeks three through five were going to be way more fun. 

On Day One, Eddie opened his front door to a big bouquet of flowers. The card was signed ‘Week Bucking Three’ and the flowers were bright as possible, reds and yellows and pinks, designed to make Eddie’s place seem as happy as possible.

Buck was glad to stand there when he got them, because watching Eddie’s face light up was new. 

Sure, Acts of Service and Quality Time had been fun, but they hadn’t been outside the realm of usual Buck and Eddie behaviour. But Buck hadn’t ever bought Eddie flowers before, and Eddie was flushed rosy and giddy by it as he took them inside to put in a vase. 

Eddie stared at them for a long time before he told Buck he’d never received flowers before, and Buck snapped a photo of him like he couldn’t quite help it. He wanted everyone to see how happy Eddie looked. He wanted everyone to know that if the world just did its job right, he could be this happy all the damn time.

“Buck, these couldn’t have been cheap,” Eddie told him wearily when they got into the car, Eddie’s coffee and bagel already waiting on the passenger seat of Buck’s car for Eddie.

Even sitting in Buck’s passenger seat, Eddie kept snatching glances at the photos he’d taken of his flowers.

Buck felt like he was flying. No amount of money could ever be too high for this.

“So worth it.” Buck told him, unable to swipe the grin from his own face.

Eddie couldn’t even try to stop smiling, not when his cheeks still flushed that happy, content pink. 

“Buck,” Eddie chastised, but he sounded happy, and Buck felt happy, and this whole goddamn thing had been such a win. 

Once they were at work and Buck could check his phone again, he realised Eddie had passed the flowers on.

Piglet: woaahhhh what r those for???

Buck swelled with pride that Eddie had sent a picture of the flowers to Chris at all. He knew the whole thing was a little weird, but Eddie’s joy was contagious, and thank god.

Tigger: I bought them for your Dad

Piglet: i got that part jesus

Piglet: but like what for

Piglet: please don’t tell me he’s in hospital again

Tigger: oh my god

Tigger: We’re doing an experiment 

Piglet: … is the experiment… just dating ?

Tigger: No? I have a boyfriend, smart ass

Piglet: ughhhh i forgot

Piglet: why would u tell me that at like 7am its gonna ruin my day

Tigger: Rude. You’ve gotten so rude. You used to be so sweet, now you’re just rude.

Piglet: love you, buck. still hate ur bf though, he looks like human shrek

“Can you please tell your son to stop saying Tommy looks like Human Shrek?” Buck hissed at Eddie, who had been reading the conversation but not answering on the opposite side of their kitchen table.

Eddie flashed a grin, and his mood was untouchably bright. Buck had no inclination to step on that. 

“Sorry, man, he’s kinda right. Can’t argue that one. He looks like Human Shrek.”

Eddie had pulled up a photo on his own, and when Hen ascended the stairs and caught sight of it, she burst out into loud, unapologetic laughter. She didn’t even need to hear the comparison, apparently, the image was enough to tip her off. 

Maybe she’d already heard more. 

Chim followed her, then he was laughing too, and Buck was really trying to be loyal, but it was hard not to laugh when his whole team was hysterical and barking, and Eddie looked happier than he had in months. 

He tried valiantly not to laugh with his team. He really, really did.

But then Eddie facetimed Chris so that he could see the reaction the team had had to his joke and Buck was joking loudly that this was a parenting foul and it was impossible not to laugh at how absolutely fucking tickled pink Chris was to make everyone laugh and how absolutely fucking normal everything felt for the first time in forever.

Maybe, Buck reasoned, that was another gift for Eddie. Normalcy, with his team and with his son, after so much struggle to feel like himself. 

By Day Two — technically a continuation of his Day One shift — Eddie looked in his locker and found the gifts Buck had planted. 

He expected that Eddie would laugh and close his locker, or shove them to the bottom of his bag, but instead, Eddie brought the toys out with a grin and proceeded to show them off to the rest of their team, sitting them on the firehouse couch as though they were mascots.

The three stuffed toys — Piglet, Tigger and Eeyore — weren’t big, but they were soft and unmistakably a set. The shop keeper had looked at him oddly when he said he didn’t need Pooh, despite the four being discounted when bought together. 

Eddie played video games with Piglet and Tigger in his lap, Eeyore abandoned beside him on the couch, and Buck tried not to be a little touched by the visual.

He failed, especially when, after hours of treating this totally normally, Hen finally cracked and asked.

“So… what’s with your friends, Christopher Robin?”

Eddie flushed a happy shade of pink, the reminder of his son’s name a positive thing and not a negative, what with Chris texting them normally and the ongoing discussions of what day he would come home drawing closer and closer. 

“Buck.” Eddie answered simply.

“I would say that explains nothing, but honestly, it kind of does explain everything.” Chim said with a hum and a long pause, “But, y’know, the flowers and now this. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say our beloved Mr Diaz was being wooed.” 

Buck snorted, trying to play off his mild embarrassment for sheer amusement. Like, sure, of course Chim would wrongly take it that way. Didn’t make it true. 

“How’d you even find out about those flowers?” Buck tried to play it off, but realised too late that all he’d done was not deny he was trying to woo Eddie. Whoops? 

“Eddie texted Maddie and Karen, who obviously told us, duh.” Chim answered.

Buck blinked, because… huh? About half of that sentence was totally new information to him.

He blinked, glancing at Eddie, who seemed to live that pretty pink shade now, and at least Buck got small condolences for his troubles. 

“I… didn’t know about any of that, but… can’t a man just platonically buy his best friend some pretty flowers and stuffed toys? Damn, what’s with the toxic masculinity around here. Some might even say it was homophobia. Like, do we really want to perpetuate these toxic ideals of male friendship being disconnected and undervalued?” Buck was absolutely just making stuff up. Making anything up. Everything but the kitchen sink being thrown at his friends if it would get them to stop.

“You never buy me flowers and stuffed animals.” Chim argued, keeping his tone light and playful, and Buck considered that Chim was trying to take the pressure off of him about this. Eddie was straight, and Buck had a boyfriend, and maybe he was trying to woo Eddie, but people could be wooed platonically? Right? That was normal? 

Buck scoffed, “Well, I could. I can buy you flowers. I’ll buy so many damn flowers, it’ll be a fire hazard in here.” Buck rambled, eyes narrowing slightly. He was being over-the-top about that, and he knew it, but jokingly playing it up was surely better than letting it be apparent how genuinely vulnerable he felt about his efforts. 

“No.” Eddie said quickly, “No, fuck off, this is my thing, you guys didn’t earn best friend status and now you don’t get flowers.”

Eddie was being over-the-top about it too, but Buck’s rush of affection was undeniable. Thank god for his best friend going along with the silly joke about it all. And it was a silly joke, right? Even if the bouquet had cost him nearly a hundred dollars. 

“Well, no, because Buck just said he’d get me flowers too, pretty boy.” Chim argued, dropping down beside Eddie on the couch and making to pick up his Tigger, which Eddie stared possessives at until Chim returned it to him. 

Eddie scoffed, “You already have a Buckley to get you flowers, you don’t need mine too.”

That was totally normal and fine. So normal and fine. Buck got to his feet and went to get coffee, glad that their shift was nearing its end. It had been qu— calmer than normal, and Buck was okay with that, usually, except that it meant everyone was far more focused on Buck and his presents for Eddie.

“So… wooing Eddie, huh?” Hen had followed him. Of course she had. Why not? “How does Tommy feel about that?”

Buck shrugged again, instinctively making drinks for his team members as well. And if he made Eddie’s with a little dash of the chocolate syrup he liked as part of the gift giving, it definitely wasn’t weird. 

“He insisted on being there for most of last week, so…”

Hen leaned forward a little. “Last week?” She smiled, “Buck, you know I love you, but I have never known someone so capable of jumping around to different topics without explaining to anyone else what you mean.”

Buck huffed. He’d heard that before. Plenty of times. Like when the team had suggested he might not be ready to be Captain and he’d asked if it was about his couch. He realised — later — where he’d lost everyone. 

“It’s an experiment I’m doing.” He explained. “Or… a favour. Or something.”

Hen nodded, waiting for him to explain further.

“So, I was reading to Eddie about Love Languages, because I found this really interesting article about how it’s actually been disproven and—” Her eyebrows had nearly risen to her hairline, “Okay, sorry, sorry. Anyway, I asked Eddie if he was one of them, which he’d be. And he told me he didn’t know what worked for him, so I was like— well, I mean, I have to find out, right? That’s just my job. As his best friend. To make sure he feels loved. Right?”

Buck could feel his face burning. He felt hot all the way down his body. The backs of his knees felt hot. He didn’t even know he could feel temperature there. Or at least, not without literal fire present. 

“So… you’re buying Eddie a ton of gifts to test if it makes him feel loved?” The words sounded weirder from her mouth. “And— what was the last week part?”

“Well, I did Acts of Service first. But y’know, that wasn’t so far fetched. I already drive Eddie around most of the time, and I cook for him several times a week. I mean, the weirdest part of it was sweeping his gutters, but mostly he just complained to me the whole time about how it’d go faster if I let him do it with me.”

Hen’s lips were parted and her brows were raised, looking at Buck with genuine curiosity. She looked like he was describing something so odd, and Buck just kept on rambling, because her face was scaring him a little.

“Then Quality Time. But Tommy had a bit of a tantrum about that one, because he said I spent enough quality time with Eddie already and if anything, I owed him more quality time. So we did a puzzle together, all three of us, but it was just awkward, because Tommy’s shit at doing puzzles. I didn’t even know you could be shit at doing puzzles? And like, aren’t puzzles made for his age demographic?” She cracked a snort at that. “But when Tommy had shifts we did other things. We cooked together, and I took him for a picnic and a hike. We went for long drives and listened to music. Just… time without pressure, y’know?”

Buck took a sharp breath. “Gift Giving. That’s this week.”

“So the flowers and the bears, that’s… the start of this?”

Buck nodded.

Hen stared.

Buck’s wrists were sweating. Were wrists supposed to sweat?

“Buck, honey… I’m… a little worried.” Hen admitted quietly, reaching for one of his hands. He restrained himself from yanking it away instinctively, afraid his idea was about to be called stupid or something.

Hen cleared her throat again. “I think what you’re doing is really sweet and wonderful. But, um…”

“You think I’m being unfair to Tommy?”

“I… am never here to be Tommy Kinard’s advocate.” She answered calmly, “But I think maybe you need to be sure what you’re hoping to get out of this. I mean, where does it end? What do Words of Affirmation look like for you two? Or Physical Touch? I know you’re really close, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up and— I just—”

He blinked, “Hen, I’m… I’m not in love with Eddie. I’m not. I mean— I could be, y’know, but I’m not. He’s my best friend. And I love him. And like, life would be easier if it was just him and I and Chris, but that isn’t what we are and that’s okay. I’m building something with Tommy. But, y’know, your romantic partner doesn’t have to everything to you. And Tommy’s— he’s not— he’s fine. He’s stable and he’s calm and he’s got his shit shorted out. He’s, y’know, he’s a smart choice. I mean, me and Taylor, we had passion, but we didn’t make sense. And me and Ali, she was kind, but she couldn’t withstand the anxiety, which was fair. And Abby, she— she mostly wanted my youth, and that— sucked. But it made sense. So Tommy, he’s… calm and situated. He wanted comfortable and certain and established. Maybe, y’know, maybe that’s what I need. To calm me down too.”

Hen looked, for the first time during their conversation, deeply fucking sad. “Evan Buckley, what you need is someone to love all of you. Complicated and passionate and serious and kind and, yes, impulsive and hairbrained. Stop looking for people who tolerate you and look for ones who appreciate you.”

Buck cleared his throat again, picking up his completed coffees and moving to pass them out to his friends, knowing that if he answered Hen, he’d cry. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself. 

On Day Three, Buck turned up to Eddie’s house with a homemade dessert his Abuela had recommended he make that would feel like home and a bag of ornaments he’d gotten from a Halloween pop-up shop he found that he thought Eddie would appreciate.

They were silly, mostly, but they were also little kits where you could paint the zombie gnomes to put in the front yard. And really, what was a gift anyway if not something silly and thoughtful? What was a gift anyway if not another opportunity for quality time?

Eddie laughed so loudly at the gnomes and agreed to paint them with him. But Buck had an extra special surprise, because he’d actually bought the gnomes during Week One of the experiment and sent them to Chris so that they could paint them together. 

It was an after school activity, and Buck had been worried Chris would refuse, but he’d actually been willing. Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to make sure Eddie felt loved too. Struggle though they might to fix things, Christopher loved Eddie more than anyone.

When Buck brought up his facetime and set it up so that they could chat while they painted their gnomes, Buck genuinely thought Eddie might cry and— yeah, he was fucking killing this Gift Giving thing.

Chris told them he wanted to paint zombie Superman, which seemed about right, really. He might be too old for a lot of his old favourite little kid things, but he still liked his superheroes. 

Buck and Eddie decided to paint each other.

Eddie’s came with a stupid built-in mustache that had them all giggling.

Buck’s came with a birthmark painted in the shape of a little heart instead of the splotch it actually was.

By the time Chris hung up from their facetime, zombie gnome set aside to dry, Eddie seemed emotionally burnt out, but happy in a way he hadn’t been for a long time. His flowers sat happily against the backdrop of the living room, his new stuffies propped up on the couch, as though they were Buck, Eddie and Chris, in their rightful places side by side even when the real things weren’t. 

Eddie hugged him especially tight before Buck left for the night. He told Buck that he had no idea what he’d ever done to deserve Buck. Buck assured him that he was the best friend Buck had ever had. That he earned it every single day by just being him. That Buck wouldn’t trade him for anyone.

He wasn’t sure how they both ended up all weepy and giggly, but by the time Buck fell into his loft bed, he felt like maybe, finally, he was actually doing something right.

He’d always been considered Too Much. But maybe the thing that made him Too Much for everyone else would be the thing that made Eddie feel truly loved. And maybe that made every other time he was too much for someone worth it.

Days Four through Seven were filled with more gifts.

Eddie got several more bouquets, more home cooked meals. He got a new t-shirt with the slogan ‘World’s Best Grandma’ on it (which Buck just thought would be funny), as well as Bunny Slippers that were a little too small for his feet but made him laugh so hard he went bright red.

Buck gave him real things too. He bought him a pack of new, fun socks with little frogs in various positions on them, since it had become one of their ‘things’. He bought him a new book that he just genuinely thought Eddie would like. A new plant he could keep by his window that required minimal water (since Eddie had been known to drown his plants), but that Buck figured was something else he could nurture and love. 

Eddie didn’t get overly weepy again during the week, but he did seem overall brighter. Happier. Even when Tommy texted him a photo of the flowers he’d bought Buck — which felt… a little cheap comparatively (emotionally, not financially). 

That time, Eddie just scoffed. “He’s not much for his own effort, is he?”

Buck just shrugged, “I think he thinks I’m trying to send him some message?”

“And are you?”

“What? That I wanted him to put in a tenth of the effort I make in a week for my best friend? No, not particularly.”

The Saturday night of Gift Giving week, Tommy had turned up at Buck’s loft, as planned, with a six pack of beer Buck didn’t like and a pizza he’d picked up on the way.

And Buck… he was frustrated. 

So Tommy wasn’t big on effort. That was fine. Buck didn’t need big effort. He didn’t need to be cooked for, none of that. But sometimes it did… feel like Tommy just simply wasn’t paying attention. 

When Buck told him about his plans to set up a zombie gnome date with their son, Tommy had asked if that felt too ‘juvenile’. 

When Buck told him about Tigger, Piglet and Eeyore, he’d asked who Pooh was in that scenario, and then made some weird joke about Tigger being the best option in the bedroom, which… was weird. 

Buck knew he was doing a lot for his friend, but none of it was a secret. It wasn’t a secret that he liked big gestures, and it wasn’t a secret that he liked effort and attention. Both giving and receiving it. 

Tommy, though, brought supermarket flowers he’d already sent a photo of to Eddie (As what? Proof?) and beers that Buck didn’t like. 

They ate the pizza, they watched a rom-com and they drank the shitty sewer water beer. 

“Evan,” Tommy began.

“Buck,” Buck intercepted with a sigh.

“I have to ask you a question. About, y’know, the Eddie stuff.”

And sure, why not? Why wouldn’t he have questions? It wasn’t like he was paying any attention to begin with.

“When you do the… Physical Touch stuff. Can I… set some guidelines? Or be present? Or something.”

Buck blinked, but relinquished the tight coil of dread in his stomach. That, he decided, was a fair ask. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. What did you have in mind? Because I wasn’t thinking it’d be anything particularly intimate, but if there’s something you’re uncomfortable with then—”

“Well, just, if anything sexual happens, I obviously feel it’s only fair that I be involved.”

Buck blinked. 

What? 

“Eddie’s— he’s straight—?” Buck mumbled dumbly, eyes big, his brain trying to sputter through jelly to figure out where Tommy had gotten all alone.

Tommy sighed, “I mean, it’s obvious what you’re doing, Evan. And it’s okay, really, you have some unfinished business with him, and I’m okay with that. With waiting it out, I mean, but if it does cross that line, I really think it would be best for our future if—”

“Unfinished… business? Waiting it out? What are you talking about?”

Tommy squeezed his hand, looking at Buck like he felt sorry for him. Like Buck was some dumb kid who wasn’t really understanding. “You and him. You two are important to each other. First loves, it seems like. But it also seems… clear to me that whatever it is can’t— won’t— last. You need someone stable, Evan. Someone who can provide for you. That isn’t Eddie, and that’s okay. I understand the allure around Eddie, I do. I also understand that passion burns out. All that you’re left with is what you can rely on. What you can hold and protect. Eddie isn’t going to come out. He isn’t going to be what you need. And that’s okay. So do what you need to do, and then let it go. And I will still be here after. But that’s my point, Evan. For us, and whatever we become, it’s better we experience them together.” 

Buck was pretty sure his eyes were bulging out of his socket. 

He wasn’t entirely sure he understood what Tommy was even trying to say. He also wasn’t entirely sure Tommy knew what Tommy was trying to say. 

“So… you think we should have a threesome with Eddie so that I can get over him?” Buck repeated, his entire mouth a little numb for some reason.

Tommy shrugged, “I mean, that makes it sound extreme, but I suppose when you put it like that—”

“I’m not— I’m not doing any of this to try to hook up with Eddie.” Buck snapped, heat rising up his spine and into his blood, making him feel like he was vibrating from the inside. Half angry and half hurt, all insulted. 

“Then why?” Tommy asked, calm as though he was talking to an angry child.

Buck hissed in response, “Because I love him. Not romantically, just… love. How is irrelevant. I don’t care if he wants me as his brother or coparent or husband or best friend, that isn’t— that isn’t the point. I don’t want any more from him than what he wants to give me, I just— I just want him to feel loved. He’s had a really hard few months and a hard life and I just want him to know, I just want him to understand, however best it gets through to him, that I love him. Not because I want something from him. Specifically the point is that I’m getting nothing out of this. All of it’s for him! I just— I just want the people I love to know they’re loved.”

Buck had tears in his eyes, he could feel them. The idea that he had done all of this to… manipulate sex out of Eddie made him feel icky and disgusting, like he needed to strip his own skin off and wash it down.

He never, never, expected his relationship with Eddie to exceed what it currently was. But that wasn’t the point. The point was for Eddie to know that who he was, exactly as he was, was worthy of all that love. He didn’t need to be any more or less. 

“Look, Evan, I think I’ve— I think I’ve explained this all wrong…” He could see the panic on Tommy’s face, but Buck really had no interest in hearing him scramble to change his mind. He’d said what he’d said, and Buck didn’t need to hear more.

So he settled on one question: “What’s my love language, Tommy?”

Tommy went blank. 

Buck waited.

“I… It’s— it’s Quality Time. That’s why you always want to see your friends and family outside of work. It’s why you’re always with Eddie and why you don’t like big, romantic dates. You just want quality time with the person you care about. See? I do know you.”

Buck smiled sadly, “Get out of my house, Tommy.”

Monday, Week 4 - Words of Affirmation 

Crockett: You’re my favourite person in the world, aside from your own son. You’re smart, and capable, and good at everything in a way that is concerning to nature.

Tubbs: you’re picking me up in like 15 mins? this could wait

Crockett: Oh there’s soooo much more where this is coming from

And really, Eddie should have expected it. He should have expected all of Buck’s silly compliments about his moustache and his outfits and his hair. He should have expected every time Buck gave him a joking compliment comparing him to some Old Hollywood actor, or playfully calling him John McClane.

He never did stop blushing; and it only got worse when their team began joining in.

The Love Language challenge had become a thing in their firehouse, and while everyone sort of rolled their eyes like it was such a stupid Buck thing to do, they also joined in. 

Chimney told him his lip skirt was inspirational.

Athena started calling him Rambo. 

Maddie joked that if she ever had a son, she’d have no choice but to name him Eddie (which had him so red he’d had to get up and leave the table). 

Bobby called him Magnum PI and Eddie shot him a look that was begging for reprieve.

Buck kept mostly to his jokes in public. In private, he was a little more forthcoming with the real Words of Affirmation.

Crockett: I don’t think I ever realised that real love could be two best friends having each others’ backs until you. Kinda thought everyone would leave me. thanks for not leaving me.

Buck had it timed to send during their shift, which did nothing to stop Eddie from dropping his phone with a clatter and moving to hug Buck so tightly that Buck was pretty sure it healed a wound in him he hadn’t even known he had.

Eddie was pretty perpetually flushed at that point, and Buck had come to love that he was capable of putting that flush there. 

Tubbs: you’re the first person in the world who made me feel like who i am is good enough

Buck didn’t expect kind things back from Eddie, but who was he to rebuff the nicest message he’d ever received. 

Only, it became almost competitive. Because while Buck expected that Eddie would just blush and be all awkward and he’d love it, he hadn’t been at all prepared for Eddie to start doing it back. Sending equally kind messages back, saying equally kind things. It was sweet, and it was also making Buck feel all sorts of weird things he wasn’t sure he was meant to be feeling. 

Sure, Tommy was out of the picture, but that didn’t make Eddie any less not an option to him. Eddie was, for one thing, not interested in men. And Buck… he wasn’t stupid enough not to notice how he could feel about Eddie if he let him, he was smart enough to know that if he let himself notice it, it would break everything he’d spent so damn long building.

Crockett: i think if there were more dads like you in the world, there’d be a lot less sad people

Eddie had reacted to that one by telling Buck he was going to kill him over lunch, because Buck had timed it to send during a shift and everyone saw Eddie’s eyes get a little wet. He refused point blank to explain why though, and that only got him teased more.

Tubbs: sometimes i see so much of you and christopher in each other that i forget 

He didn’t finish the thought, but Buck knew. That he wasn’t Buck’s. That Buck wasn’t his biological family. He suspected Eddie had cut it short at risk of hurting Buck’s feelings by acknowledging it, but Buck had a father with no biological relation, and a brother with no biological relation, and a sister with no biological relation, so having a son with no blood shared didn’t bother him much. Knowing Eddie saw him like that was more than enough to have Buck choked up over 6am coffee on shift.

Compliments were one thing, after all, but that wasn’t all Words of Affirmation were. So Buck started with Part Two of that week, a little afraid of where they might go if they kept on playing compliment chicken.

Pet names. 

Sure, it would be fine to use regular old American pet names. It would. Or…

Abuela had helped. Pepa too. They had reprimanded him for being silly, but had ultimately folded easily when it came to actually helping him. 

So he got… progressively more ridiculous with it.

He started with Eddito. It wasn’t uncommon, not even particularly surprising for Buck to know it, given Abuela and Pepa used it regularly. Sure, Eddie had gone all pink and smiley and it was hard not to be thrilled, but Buck had bigger plans than that.

If he just tucked that one into his back pocket for after all this, that wasn’t weird, right? 

They were on a particularly turbulent call, which led to Eddie nearly falling through a flight of uneven stairs and Buck yanking him back by the collar, when Buck whispered into his ear, “Careful, Gordito, don’t go places I can’t follow.”

Eddie had gone all perfectly still against him for a second, and then whole body shuddered in surprise. Buck laughed so loud and bright that he thought he might wake the dead. Eddie smacked him on the arm about it.

That one was more cutesie than anything, he’d checked and checked multiple times to make sure it wasn’t mean, but everyone had sworn to him that it was a thing you said with love, and Buck could do that. 

Eddie was still flushed red when they made it back to the rest of the team, who naturally assumed it was Buck’s doing by Week Four.

Eddie stammered his way through an explanation and got back into the truck, leaving Buck giddy with his little victory.

It was at the gym that Buck pulled out the next one, and the next was a little more… pointed? But he framed it as a joke, and Abuela had cackled wildly when she suggested he do it, so he figured it couldn’t be too bad.

He figured that, right up until he stepped in as Eddie’s spotter to make sure he didn’t slip during a pull up. 

Right up until he told Eddie, “Don’t go falling on me, Papi.” Watching Eddie choke on his own spit was well worth the disgusted look he got from Chim, who muttered about nowhere being safe and stomped out. 

In the days that followed, Buck pulled out a few more. Chiquito, mi hombre, angelito, pan de azúcar. 

Eddie never stopped blushing. Buck practically buzzed with excitement every time.

If he let himself think about it too much, he knew he’d scare himself out of it, so he just tried to let himself enjoy it instead.

He wasn’t good with Spanish, had only been passable when he’d travelled, but seeing the reactions from Eddie made him want to learn. 

Although, he might have to do some research beyond Eddie’s relatives, who definitely thought Buck was trying to seduce Eddie at that point.

If only they could see how Eddie was. He loved Buck, any fool could see that, but part of the joy of this whole thing was receiving compliments from someone who Eddie knew wouldn’t try to come on to him.

Buck and Eddie were Buck and Eddie. Buck could make Eddie feel special and valued and loved and he wanted to keep doing so, but he also knew damn well that Eddie was straight and not interested in him. He did this purely for the joy of making Eddie feel special, not for his own gain, no matter what Tommy might think. 

Buck had blocked Tommy pretty shortly after kicking him from the loft, but it hadn’t stopped Tommy. He’d found Buck’s linkedin, for crying out loud, and sent a long message basically telling Buck that he really had been trying to look out for him. That they should really talk more in person, because Tommy really did care and really did think that he could make Buck happy.

Buck deleted the message and rejected Tommy’s connection request.

On Friday of Week Four, it all started to feel a little more tenuous.

Buck could feel people looking at him differently, and he had the oddest sensation that him not telling anyone he broke up with Tommy had nothing to do with it not getting out. 

It was Hen who dropped the bomb first.

“He’s been messaging people asking them to get you to talk to him.” She admitted in a hushed voice.

“He can bite me.” Buck answered calmly, and that was the end of that. 

Later, Chim casually told Buck over bean sprouts that he’d told Tommy to stop being weird and contacting Buck’s friends. Buck simply patted his shoulder gratefully and kept eating. 

On Saturday morning, Buck texted Eddie.

Crockett: Muy hermoso

Tubbs: What did Tommy do? 

Buck didn’t answer for several hours, so it was no great shock when Eddie rocked up at his door, with a six pack of beers Buck liked and his favourite kind of donut. 

“What did Tommy do?” He asked eventually, once they were situated comfortably on the couch.

Buck sighed, “I don’t want to make it weird, Eddie.”

“What? Me and Him? Because we haven’t been friends for a minute now, Buck. I think he’s weird and condescending and looks like human shrek. If he makes another sex joke in front of the team, I will roundhouse kick him.” Buck glanced up at Eddie’s use of Chris’ joke, and found Eddie looking at him with earnest support. It was hard not to trust him, even for the silliness of his words.

“He implied I was doing all of this just to sleep with you. And asked if I did, could he be involved. He said that would be… better for our relationship.” Buck took a long swig of beer, hoping he could drink the memory away.

“Oh. Oh, ew. God, he wishes. He was already a racist firefighter while we were in middle school, why does he have to be such a dirty old man about it?”

Buck couldn’t help but laugh, loud and bright, at Eddie’s genuine disgust. He hadn’t known, not until they broke up, what Tommy was really like. But slowly, Chim and Hen had begun to talk more openly about it in front of him, and Buck was more and more glad to have left.

 Buck had thought Tommy was handsome, obviously. Before. Distinguished. He’d thought he seemed mature and put together. Hindsight was 20/20 though, because Buck had since learned that being older didn’t make you any less immature, really. 

“I’m sorry he’s bothering you,” Buck said quickly, “I thought he’d have the decency to at least—”

Eddie shrugged, “I realised he was lacking any of that after the fifteenth time I heard you ask him to call you Buck.” He half smiled, “Abuela called me to tell me just how charming her Evancito is.”

“Charming?” Buck repeated, amused.

“Mm,” He grinned, taking another swig, having effortlessly flicked away from Tommy now that he knew why. “She said, and I quote, someone will be smart enough to snatch that man up and put him at the end of an altar soon enough, just you wait.” He grinned, wagging his eyebrows in amusement at the thought.

Buck snorted, “God, no. I’ve never even gotten close, people run screaming from the thought of me at the other end of the aisle.”

Eddie grinned, “Don’t be stupid, pollito. The trash just took itself out.”

Monday, Week 5 - Physical Touch

His last week was the hardest. That’s what Buck had found.

Ever since Tommy had gotten in his head implying that Buck just wanted to sleep with Eddie, Buck couldn’t figure out how the hell to make it normal enough.

They could bump shoulders and casually touch each others’ arms, but they did that already.

The point of this was to be more mindful and consistent and instead, Buck just felt kind of… lost.

He knew that by Week Five, everyone would be watching him closely, trying to figure out what would make him crack. Or maybe simply how he would one-up himself.

He’d had Eddie basically giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl for weeks, but this was different. 

Giving nice presents and calling him nice names was fun. It was friendly. Touching him was a whole other story. What if Eddie didn’t want Buck to touch him? What if he’d be overstepping some unwritten rule?

What if this was it, the inevitable moment where Buck’s Too Much behaviour pushed even Eddie Diaz away, and Buck really did give up all hope forever of finding someone who actually loved him for who he was, platonically or otherwise?

They were nearly six hours into their first shift when someone mentioned it.

That someone, unexpectedly, was Bobby.

“So… physical touch week, huh, kid?”

It was so much less creepy when Bobby called him ‘kid’ than when Tommy did. Maybe because one of them was like a father and one of them kept trying to be his Daddy. Ugh. 

“God, don’t remind me.” Buck whined, dropping his head down against the truck as they put away their equipment after a call.

Bobby chuckled, “That bad? Does his breath smell?”

Buck coughed on nothing. “Oh, ha-ha. No, I just… I don’t want to overstep. Gifts are one thing, but…”

Bobby smiled a little, “You’re a good man, Buck. But Eddie is starting to look a bit forlorn at his total lack of embarrassing love displays, so I think it might be time to step it up.”

Buck knew he was ruddy-cheeked when he answered. “Bobby, that isn’t— that’s not funny. Tommy said— and I—”

Bobby half smiled, “If Tommy Kinard didn’t get you, Buck, then I’m glad you got rid of the dead weight. But that doesn’t mean that he knows anything about you and Eddie. That’s for you two to decide.”

It was good advice. Buck still groaned dramatically about it.

He did his usual. He bumped arms with Eddie, let their knees knock together in the truck. He spotted him at the gym and slapped him on the back when he did well.

Normal. Casual. That was fine, right? They were already relatively touchy for two hetero firefighters? Or— one hetero and one bisexual firefighter who was really trying to repress anything physical he may or may not feel when they touched a lot, anyway. 

But Bobby… was right, Buck had found. Eddie looked like he was trying to work out what he’d done wrong. Like he’d come to expect Buck’s big gestures, and he’d been waiting to see what next only to be met with… nothing. He seemed— well, yeah, he seemed a bit forlorn. Buck was very normal and brave about that, even though he was very much starting to want to take a risk on that ‘what if’ in the back of his mind.

Because Eddie had reciprocated his acts. He’d gotten in with Buck’s compliments and his playful jokes. He’d proudly shown off his flowers and the toys. It was almost enough for a glimmer of hope, and that was scary.

They were working a 48, and by hour 24, the shift had been rough. 

A family DOA in a fire. 

A father hauled away in hysterics after his daughter’s ToD was recorded at the scene of a car crash. 

A little boy vaguely resembling Christopher, who survived in the end, but who they really thought they’d lost for a minute.

Trudging and desperate walks to nap were all that separated the awful calls, and by the end of the forty-eight, Buck wanted to collapse into a shower and live there until he’d washed the grief and horror of it all from his skin entirely. 

It was Eddie who asked Buck to come over.

Buck never was good at telling Eddie no.

It was Wednesday evening, and they had two days off now, and Buck wished he could take his own brain out and wash out the crevices of it until it felt functional again. 

“Come to bed with me?”

Buck never was good at telling Eddie no.

He climbed into bed behind Eddie and they lay perfectly still, perfectly calm, until Eddie edged closer. He moved until his head was against Buck’s chest, one arm resting with his hand on Buck’s heart, his legs tangling with Buck’s like it was the most natural thing in the world. There was nothing inherently anything about it, it was just… intimate. 

 So Buck began to run his hands softly up and down and Eddie’s exposed back. He knew Eddie felt overwhelmed, and he knew this kind of touch would help. Help him to relax and sleep. Help him to calm down. Help him feel grounded in the moment.

Eddie’s thumb drew slow circles against Buck’s peck.

Buck’s movements were slow and innocent.

It all started slow and innocent. Two people trying to be what each other needed. Two people trying to provide physical comfort against emotional ailment. 

But eventually, after so much time had passed that it might have been minutes or hours of silence and peace and acceptance, Eddie started to make soft little noises, the only evidence he was awake. 

They weren’t anything, really, not inherently sexual or even wanting, just… content. Calm. Warm. 

Buck’s fingers mapped his skin in the dark, and though he couldn’t see his exploration, he didn’t need to. It wasn’t about seeing Eddie, or conquering him, or having him. It was about soft comfort. Reminders of companionship. It was about the gentle press of skin on skin in the dark, reminding them both that even on their worst, saddest, loneliest days, they weren’t alone. They’d never been alone. 

That was why Tommy’s comments had felt so insulting to Buck. In the dark or in the light, in hell or highwater, romantic or only ever platonic, there wasn’t a single moment of Eddie Diaz that Evan Buckley would ever be willing to give away. 

It was Eddie, first, whose hands moved a little more intentionally. A thumb grazing over a nipple that could’ve been nothing, if not for the breathless sound Eddie let slip.

A sound that really did make Buck feel like… 

His hand trailed a little lower then over the skin of Eddie’s back. He pulled him in a little closer, reverent and loving and full of desire but no action.

It was enough just to hold and be held in that moment, enough to let this wanting build in a way that felt so mutual. 

In that moment, Buck could feel it in Eddie too. They were together in this place, together with eyes unseeing in the dark and hands the only real expressions of love between them.

No one made any move to make it anything more serious, but no one needed to. It wasn’t just arousal or lust, but pure, unfiltered desire, for not just flesh, but for everything that someone else was.

Buck had never been turned on the way he was, because he wasn’t in his head. He wasn’t wondering what to do to look or feel hot. He wasn’t thinking about getting off or getting touched. All he was thinking about was Eddie, and how in that moment, he had never felt more connected to another human being.

Time passed like it was moving through another dimension. Buck had no idea how long they lay there, content to simply feel each other in the most innocent and the most real way. He had no idea how long it lasted.

But when he heard Eddie’s whisper, soft and sweet, something seemed to click the right way. 

“Why weren’t you touching me, Buck?” 

There was no accusation. No anger. It wasn’t even flirtatious. It was… vulnerable. Honest. Kind in a way Buck didn’t have words for. Reassurance and acceptance and home.

But Buck was no fool, and so he did. He shifted them so that Eddie was on his back, and Buck was on his side, and he let his hand fall lower still. Down Eddie’s chest, down his soft stomach, down his warm skin that stretched on for eternity.

And when Eddie only gasped, a soft, wanting thing, Buck’s hand slipped below his boxers too.

He’d always sort of thought magic in these moments was made up. That the over romanticisation of it was the coping mechanism of someone who’d never had hot sex before. 

But he felt Eddie shiver through his whole body and he knew he was wrong. It could be both.

Buck only moved his hand to spit into it, before returning it down. Eddie had already shimmied his boxers lower, leaving Buck with free access to touch him.

And now, in the dark, with no pretense or fear, Buck could admit how desperately he’d always wanted to touch Eddie.

He could admit how it sent heat through his body to feel the way Eddie reacted to him, the way he arched towards Buck’s touch and let out a moan so soft and low it felt like some kind of a theft to hear it at all.

Not that Buck wouldn’t spend the rest of his life in prison if it meant hearing Eddie make that sound again. 

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” The words came from Buck without his permission, but he realised he didn’t mind. He couldn’t even see Eddie in the dark, but it wasn’t about that. Eddie was always the most beautiful thing Buck had ever seen. 

Eddie was moaning again, less restrained this time. It was still quiet, but nothing like Buck might have expected. Any pretense of machismo was gone, letting out gentle pants and sounds a little higher than Buck might’ve expected. It made his whole body light up like he’d swallowed the sun. Buck didn’t think he’d ever get enough, certainly not in one stolen night. 

Buck’s hand moved up and down his cock slow and measured at first, mapping Eddie again like he wanted to know everything. What made him pant, what made him sigh. They could be fast and heated some other time, but this, now, this was exposed and vulnerable and trusting and Buck wanted to learn. He wanted to read Eddie like his favourite book, to know everything there was to know. He wanted to take him apart and be the one to piece him back together with love and glue. 

He wanted Eddie to never, ever question how loved he truly was again. 

“Fuck, Buck—” Eddie’s pleas of his name were his new favourite songs. “Faster, please.”

What could Buck do but oblige? He experimented with it, with swiping the pad of his thumb across the head of Eddie’s cock and listening to how his breath caught in his throat. 

He smeared any precum that built down onto Eddie and hummed with desire when Eddie’s voice cracked on its prayer of Buck’s name.

He brought his other hand down to play with Eddie’s balls in the palm of his hand, wanting to touch all of him, wanting Eddie to feel worshipped, and he was rewarded by the way Eddie’s entire body seemed to shake in response. 

He was so reactive, even when he couldn’t seem to form cohesive thought, and all Buck knew was that if he didn’t keep coaxing these reactions from Eddie he might die on the spot. 

Watching Eddie squirm and beg beneath him was a religion, and Buck was finding God on the fly, finding he would do anything to keep being allowed to worship at Eddie’s feet.

“Can I taste you?” The question wasn’t one he meant to ask, he told himself he had time, but then Eddie was gripping his hand, yanking at his head, and his enthusiastic consent was the hottest thing Buck had ever experienced in his life.

He found his way down the bed, beneath the sheets, and mouthed his way along Eddie’s bare thighs until he found his leaking cock.

Buck didn’t have a ton of experience with this, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t trying to be impressive, all he wanted was to make Eddie feel good. And he had to believe that if anyone in the world could, it was him.

He licked a stripe up along the underside of Eddie’s dick, and the sound Eddie made was uncontrolled, uncontained, utterly addictive.

So Buck got to work. He took Eddie into his throat and let himself swallow down. 

The taste of him, yes, but also the way Eddie’s hands gripped into Buck’s curls and held him tight in place as his body began to react instinctively, hips pushing up against Buck’s lips, whispering praise and pleas in turn.

Buck loved it, and he knew his reactions reflected that. He was moaning now too around Eddie, rutting his aching dick into the bed as he let Eddie take ownership of his mouth. 

Eddie tasted salty and distinct, and it was filthy how needy it made Buck feel for more. Every drop of precum was a reminder of what he so badly wanted from Eddie. How he wanted to feel like Eddie had taken his promise of touch and devotion and sought his own pleasure through it.

Buck wanted Eddie to feel loved. He wanted to be the one to provide it. Listening to Eddie moan and plead, louder than Buck had thought he would, was enough to remind Buck for the rest of his life of why he wanted this so bad. 

Eddie tried to warn Buck to pull off before he came, but Buck only tripled his efforts, making audible gagging sounds around Eddie’s big, hard cock as Eddie thrusted it messily up into Buck’s mouth. His jaw would ache the following day, he knew, but he’d savour that feeling too, just as he would every burned piece of skin Eddie had touched that night. 

Eddie came with a broken cry of his name, and he held Buck’s hair tight while Buck swallowed him all the way down, and by the time Buck moved back up beside him, Eddie was still panting and unmoored, out of his head with pleasure in a way that filled Buck up with pride and happiness.

He slid his arms around Eddie again, returning to holding him how he had been before. Featherlight drawn touches on his back as he waited for Eddie to come down from the high of his orgasm. 

They both fell asleep eventually, and Buck really didn’t mind the orgasm he didn’t have. Giving was one of his genuine joys in life, and he knew he’d made Eddie feel good. He was sure he’d be plenty horny later; and right then, all he wanted was to hold Eddie in his arms and soak up the joy of being allowed to do so. 

When Buck woke up the following day, it was to the cold light of day, and the growing fear that Tommy hadn’t been wrong. What if Buck had been doing all of this for the wrong reasons? What if Eddie thought this was all Buck wanted? 

It had felt so right and so intimate in the moment, but what if Eddie felt used? Or felt like Buck had seduced him into something he didn’t actually want? What if Eddie regretted it and, god, how would he live with himself if Eddie regretted him?

Logically, on some level, Buck knew the fear was unfounded. He and Eddie were more than a secret one-off handjob in the dead of night; they had to be.

Still, he maneuvered himself out of bed quickly, driven by fear of what he might see on Eddie’s face when he woke up. He set about doing what Buck did. He started cleaning, and looking after himself so he didn’t cause a mess, and then making breakfast. He set about justifying his own presence, as he’d been trying to do ever since he’d found himself living as a ghost in Abby’s old apartment. 

But hadn’t Buck always been a ghost, even in his own home?

Hadn’t he just been the ghost of Daniel, a reminder of a less worthy child who was healthy when their first son wasn’t? 

The ghost of Abby’s youth, lingering around her apartment even after she was long gone, off to find herself and leave Buck behind, all of his spark breathed into her and out of himself? 

The ghost of ‘good enough’. The ghost of a Buck who didn’t have metal plates in his legs, the ghost of a Buck who didn’t lose Chris, the ghost of a Buck who was able to convince Maddie to leave Doug. 

Was he that here too? The ghost of Shannon? The ghost of all the people Eddie had wanted first? The ghost of the nuclear family? 

Hen thought he acted as though he had to justify being loved, had to prove to people that he was worth tolerating, and maybe she was right. Maybe it was all Buck knew how to do, and maybe he was frustrated because he was still so bad at it. All this time trying to be the hero or the saviour or the support other people needed, and he was still too selfish, still too ill-tempered, still too full of desires. 

He finished his cooking, and had about convinced himself to leave, when Eddie appeared in the kitchen doorway, sleep ruffled and beautiful, smiling at Buck like he was genuinely glad to see him. 

“Acts of Service week is over,” Eddie pointed out, moving a few steps closer to Buck and reaching for his hands, his fingers sliding into Buck’s like they were made to be there. Comfortable and natural and content. “Why are you cooking for me?”

“I don’t— it wasn’t supposed to be a one-time thing.” He stammered out, a bit nervous. 

Eddie smiled, “When is it my turn to take care of you?” He asked, gentle and warm. “Because I’m not going to lie and pretend that I haven’t been loving this, because I have, but at some point it has to be my turn to return the favour.” His hands slid out of Buck’s, but only so that he could instead curl his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling him into a tight hug, his face burying in against Buck’s neck.

The anxiety that had been bubbling inside Buck felt like fizzy drink in his veins, reacting to Eddie’s every word and touch. Logically, it should all be enough. Logic had little to do with Buck’s doubt though.

“You don’t have to.” Buck heard his own voice like he was hearing it in another room. Like he was in an apartment, listening through the walls to the stolen moments of lovers that represented something he wanted but never really had. Eddie, who for all of his anger and fire and drive and passion, was so vulnerable and so trusting in this moment, allowing himself to be held and seen. 

Eddie hummed, and he moved back, leaning against his dining table to look up at Buck.

“So which do you think it is?” He asked, changing the subject. “My love language?”

Buck blinked at the question. That had been why he started this, right? To decide what would make Eddie to feel loved? To make him feel loved. Eddie, who had blushed firetruck red for what felt like weeks straight and continued on bragging to their friends about his new gifts and nicknames anyway. Buck had been so afraid of being too much that he hadn’t stopped to ask that question. 

When Buck didn’t answer (how could Eddie just see in him that he was panicking? How could Buck just see that Eddie knew?), Eddie spoke again.

“I know yours.”

Buck glanced up at that, thinking of what Tommy had told him. Quality Time.

It was funny, because Buck wasn’t even entirely sure why that answer had rubbed him so wrong. He did love quality time, however quiet or extreme. He liked zoo days and movie nights and conversations over coffee. He liked to feel trusted and valued with someone’s time and their energy. But when Tommy had said it, it had burned in his stomach like acid.

He’d been avoiding even questioning why since.

He’d been avoiding pretty much everything Tommy related since. Maybe it wasn’t that Tommy was wrong. Maybe it was that being seen by Tommy made Buck feel like there wasn’t much worth seeing. He couldn’t decide.

“Oh?” 

“Mm.” Eddie said softly. “It’s not any of these five fake things, by the way. You don’t believe in them, and that’s probably helpful, because people might be more comfortable with certain shows of affection, but it doesn’t actually mean it’s all that they want or need or can offer.” Buck’s brows lifted, interested. Eddie, Buck realised — never for the first time — had been listening to him. 

“But love languages are a useful jumping off point. A tool to talk about what makes you feel good and valued and about how you can make someone else feel good and loved and valued. You know, I have to be honest, Buck, when you first said you were going to do this, I thought it was silly. You and me, two very repressed, very awkward guys who mostly share our feelings over beer and hospital beds. I thought you’d get embarrassed somewhere around Words of Affirmation. I thought I’d hate it. I thought being complimented made me really uncomfortable, and pet names only ever felt normal when I used them on my son.”

Buck listened, and he tried to figure out where Eddie was going with all of it. He wasn’t sure if Eddie knew himself or if he was just spitting out five weeks worth of thoughts.

Nothing had changed, but everything had, somehow. Every remaining line in the sand had been crossed, and Buck was terrified he’d asked for too much. 

“But… I think that’s actually when it hit me. None of the things you did would necessarily mean anything from anyone else. It wasn’t receiving flowers, it was you bringing me flowers in the morning and being so excited when I liked them. It wasn’t being cooked for, it was you finding my favourite things and bringing them to me. It wasn’t silly pet names that — granted, were embarrassing — it was you. It was how you made me laugh and how you could make me feel comfortable and how you would go so far out of your way for me and not even think anything of it.”

He took a deep breath. “So… the weird and very emotional place I landed, and I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this to you out loud… is that my love language is you. And yours is me. Because it’s not about acts or words or sex or any of it. It’s about you knowing me. It’s about you wanting me to feel loved. It’s about your intention and your attention and your constant, constant need to embarrass me.” 

Buck had to be dreaming. It couldn’t be real.

“I don’t care if it’s flowers, or nicknames, or hugs. I don’t care how you show me. I care that you care enough to show me. That’s what love is. That’s all that love is. I don’t think it really hit me until you texted me that you didn’t realise love could be friendship. I didn’t either. I thought love was… doing things right. Marriage and kids and tradition. But marrying a woman didn’t make me any less gay. Not kissing you for the last six years hasn’t made me any less in love with you. It isn’t finite like that. You were right, it’s all bullshit, misogynistic garbage because… I’ll take your love any way you let me have it.”

He didn’t realise he was crying until he laughed and it tasted salty, but by then, Eddie was teary eyed as well, and Buck wanted to say all those things back. He wanted to assure Eddie that he loved him. That he loved him so much it felt like it was all he was made of some nights. That he hadn’t even known, at least not consciously, because to let himself know would be to become so afraid of losing Eddie that he became afraid to love him, and he couldn’t deprive himself or his Eddie of that. 

“Holy shit, man, why aren’t you a writer? I had no idea you could—”

Eddie cut him off with a kiss that had definitely gone in the wrong order after the blowjob, but felt just as much like finally, finally breathing fresh and clean air after being trapped inhaling smoke for too long. Buck wasn’t a ghost. He was a fully realised man, standing on the precipice of home and family and the life that he’d built for himself with all the effort and all the care that had always been too much for everyone else.

For once, for once, he let himself believe that Hen was right. His love didn’t deserve to be tolerated, because his love could make Eddie Diaz smile like that. 

“Don’t call me man. You stepped it up last week and we’re not going back to man now.” Eddie teased, and Buck kissed him again. Chased his lips when he pulled away. Left several soft kisses against his lips in a row like he was relishing that he could.

Eddie kissed his brow bone, the pink skin Buck had once hated and left a ‘muah’ so silly and so Eddie that it made Buck swell with love again. He was right— it wasn’t what, it was who. 

“I seriously do need to know if you wrote that down though, because if so, I want the PDF, that speech was—” Buck laughed as he rambled, and Eddie laughed too, his cheeks pink and his eyes squeezed shut, and Buck had never loved anyone the way he loved Eddie. He was positive he never would. 

Eddie kissed him again, and touching was different in the light of day. Buck was afraid it might feel shameful or wrong, afraid Eddie might pull away because Buck was a man, and he didn’t date men. 

But it became quickly apparent to him how wrong he’d been. 

Eddie’s lips pushed against his, feverish and hungry and a little pushy, like he was irritated that Buck had deprived him of the kiss for so long. And Buck hadn’t known he was doing it, but he could feel the heat and desire in every push of hands against his hips or against his chest. Every pull of lips between teeth or clawing hands at his ass. Every tug of hair. 

He didn’t even noticing it happening when Eddie had him pushed up against the sink, hands pushing up under Buck’s shirt like he was trying to feel all of him. Like he would go crazy if he couldn’t feel all of him and Buck wondered how long Eddie had been wanting to do this. Maybe without even knowing it. 

Buck sure hadn’t known — until he had.

But then Eddie’s mouth left his, reattaching at his neck with a ferocity that Buck was sure was ripped right from his wildest dreams. 

“You were going to go without letting me repay the favour?” He whispered, low and still gravelly from sleep, the words and breath pressed against Buck’s pulse point, where he sucked a mark Buck was sure would be visible.

That, too, surprised Buck. He’d always envisioned Eddie to be less… Well, he didn’t mean to say he’d envisioned him to be vanilla, exactly. But maybe with women? The idea almost made him laugh, but the sound was cut off by the feeling of Eddie’s teeth dragging across his skin. 

Then the words really sunk in, and a shiver ran through Buck at the thought. Because it was hard not to envision it with Eddie’s hands on him, and Eddie’s lips on him and — “oh, god,” — Eddie’s tongue tracing a line across his jaw. 

“You’ve spent five weeks driving me insane,” He whispered again, his breathy voice right against Buck’s ear, dragging another moan from his lips. “And you were just going to sneak out this morning before I’d even gotten to touch you?”

And— holy shit. Buck’s brain was a livewire, every touch a spark of fire and desire and desperation he hadn’t even known he felt. He had been content just to give, to finish Week Five by doing what he’d intended, showing Eddie love physically. But with Eddie’s hands and mouth on him and his words in Buck’s ear, he was wondering how he could’ve missed the big picture so extremely.

“Five— five weeks?” Buck managed to stutter out, his hands gripping at Eddie’s waist like he was afraid he might disappear, as if Eddie didn’t have him pinned there with his whole body. 

Eddie laughed a little, and one of his hands slipped below Buck’s sweatpants, grabbing and holding his ass, slipping his leg between Buck’s and pushing into him a little. Buck’s entire body arched towards Eddie, desperate for more, desperate to see and feel and taste all of him.

“Five weeks,” Eddie repeated with a tinge of mischief to his voice. “All of it, you turning up at my doorstep with your flowers and your cooking and your little nicknames.” He punctuated that thought by using his grip on Buck to roll him in against Eddie’s thigh, pulling a strangled little sigh from Buck. “And that would be bad enough if you weren’t also forcing me to look at your asshole boyfriend.” He hummed, “And one point there, I really thought I was going to bite him if he got any closer to you.”

“I thought— I thought you said you didn’t realise until after?” Buck asked, barely aware of how he matched Eddie move for move, rubbing his clothed cock against his best friend’s leg like he was desperately chasing the feeling. 

Eddie chuckled, kissing hungrily at Buck’s neck for a few more moments before he spoke again. “I didn’t. That’s why it was driving me so insane. I just knew I wanted him away from you.”

Buck was already struggling to hold himself together against the way Eddie had taken charge, so deeply different from the way things had been between them the previous night, but the reminder that Eddie had been jealous — over him — had him grinding against Eddie like a horny teenager, working his hands into Eddie’s hair and holding on tight like he was gripping the safety bar on a roller coaster. 

“Can I?” Eddie breathed against him, his fingertips brushing against the waistband of his pants.

Buck’s blood was fire in his veins, every part of him alive and thrumming where Eddie touched him. He nodded feverishly, positive Eddie could ask him for anything in the world and he’d give it willingly.

Then Eddie’s hand was on him, calloused and warm and bigger than his own somehow, and Buck heard himself whine in a way he wasn’t sure he ever had before, a sound too high and too desperate to be his own. 

But then, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt like this before— because it was one thing to be horny to the point of deranged (and really, that had been Buck’s entire twenties), but it was another entirely to have the painfully, hauntingly sexy best friend he’d pretended not to want for six whole years touching him how he was, staring up at him with wanting, possessive eyes.

And Buck— Buck wanted to be possessed by him. He wanted to be Eddie’s. He wanted Eddie to be his. 

Eddie’s hand appeared in front of him, eyes burning when he ordered Buck to spit. And Buck did, sure that he must be dreaming. Sure it couldn’t be happening.

But Eddie was touching him again, and Buck thought he might actually buckle if he wasn’t being held so firmly in place, Eddie’s hand pumping over him fast and unrelenting. There was no particular grace to it, no particular desire to build to anything. This wasn’t taking it slow and making love, this was quick and dirty, a desperation to get Buck off like Buck had done for him the previous night.

“C’mon, Buck.” He whispered, and Buck’s eyes were closed, but he felt Eddie’s eyes burning into him anyway, drinking him in like a man lost in the desert and finding an oasis. “I need to know what you sound like when you come. Come for me.”

Buck was fairly certain he cried out Eddie’s name, but it really was hard to tell, the orgasm punched out of him, desperate and sudden. 

It might have been embarrassing how quick it all happened if it wasn’t Eddie. If they weren’t BuckAndEddie, and this wasn’t all that it was ever supposed to be. 

He was breathing hard, panting, but so was Eddie. When Buck’s eyes fluttered back open, a little delirious with happiness and the bashful grin pulling at his lips, Eddie was already smiling up at him, so full of love and acceptance that Buck was stunned with it.

How many times had he gotten off and wondered when the other person was going to get their things and leave? It wasn’t like that with Eddie. The anxiety he waited for never settled over him, and instead they were both laughing, giddy and enamoured and totally lovesick.

“So…” Eddie glanced down at his hand, painted white by Buck’s orgasm. “Firehose, huh?” 

Sunday, Week 5 - Physical Touch

“Buck, we’re a couple. We have done so much touching in the last forty-eight hours alone that I think we might be morphing into the same person. You can’t possibly tell me you still have more plans for the physical touch week? Between the massages and the — frankly earth-shattering — sex, and the time you just played with my hair for an hour, I really think you’ve cornered the market on how good I can be made to feel by touch.”

Eddie, as it turned out, was very good with his words. Like some dam had broken, they’d both suddenly become very aware of the impact they could have on each other when they stopped trying to hold their love at bay.

Buck was pretty sure Chimney was planning his untimely death about it, but at least he’d die happy. 

“Oh my god, it’s one last thing, just let me.” Buck grumbled, basically shoving Eddie into the car and moving to the driver’s seat. Eddie kept insisting they could stop now, but Buck already had plans, and anyway, why the hell would he stop showing Eddie the extent of his love now that he was allowed to do it?

Eddie’s happy smiles and reciprocated touches were enough, but he’d started using playful nicknames too — aiming more making Buck laugh than anything else, which he loved. They’d found a rhythm, things they did together that weren’t all that different from what they had been before, but held new intention, and new weight. 

When they pulled up at the loft, Eddie just glanced over at Buck with confused eyes. 

The loft wasn’t exactly new or exciting, but that wasn’t the point. Eddie would see if he stopped questioning Buck’s Love Language instincts.

The second they opened the loft door, Buck saw his final surprise land.

He saw Eddie’s face go through several emotions when his eyes caught on his son, sitting at the kitchen bench with his Abuelita beside him. He saw his face shift as he took a few quick steps forward, sweeping Chris into his arms with the tightness of a man who’d forgotten his son was fourteen and too cool for hugs.

He caught Abuela smiling at him fondly over the top of the two of them hugging, and nodded his thanks to her for helping to pull this off. 

Because Christopher was planning on coming home anyway. It was just, he was meant to come home in a week. Buck had arranged to have the flight moved, so that Eddie could end his Physical Touch Week, the the whole five week venture, with a hug from his favourite person in the world. 

He stood back to let them hug and whisper to each other until he caught Chris’ eye peeking over Eddie’s shoulder, saw the way Chris gestured him over. Then, and only then, Buck took a few quick steps forward and wrapped his arms around them both in a hug, joining them there.

He knew Eddie would have words of thanks or disbelief, and he knew he’d want to tell Buck again that he loved him. He knew that it was a big gesture, and a big moment he couldn’t ever recreate (and he hoped not to have to). 

But he also knew that this was love. This was the family he’d built, not one he’d found. He’d built it with effort and time and devotion and they had matched him brick for brick building the foundation of this precious and solid thing their family was. 

Because Christopher had been following Buck’s silly journey with love languages since the beginning. Christopher had cried with his Dad over facetime when Eddie told him that, maybe, just maybe, he didn’t feel so broken anymore. Christopher had told Buck that he wanted to help make his Dad feel really loved.

They got to be whole together, and Buck wasn’t a ghost anymore.