Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Everything starts on a casual night of drinking and easy conversations.

It’s one of those weekdays that feel tense, heavy – like a weight pressing between the shoulder blades that you can’t quite shake off. The kind of night where having a few drinks is the only way to keep your mind from stacking up unnecessary problems thick, and heavy like blocks of concrete, until you collapse beneath the gravity of them.

Today’s shift hasn’t been an easy one. None of them usually are, unless it’s rescuing terrified kittens stuck in trees. And even then, there could be complications – especially if said trees are far too high, or if the cats are so distressed their immediate response is to slash anything that moves within reach of their tiny, sharp claws. He still carries a faint scar on his forearm as proof of how quickly even saving kittens can easily turn into chaos.

So, Eddie is content to just sprawl on a sticky leather seat in a too-crowded bar where the air smells like beer, and cheap perfume, and people are so loud over the noisy speakers blasting Ed Sheeran’s Shivers that there is no way anyone can possibly hear their own thoughts.

A cheerful Ravi, loose-limbed and high on tequila, leans against his left shoulder, laughter spilling out of him loud and unrestrained every time Chim cracks another dumb joke. On his right, Buck is pressed close to his side, warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt like sunlight bleeding through clouds, reaching Eddie’s skin as if a soft blanket was thrown over him. He’s nursing a light beer as he chats contentedly with Hen over something Eddie has already forgotten – because he isn’t listening.

Eddie’s a little too distracted by how pretty Buck looks under the dim lights dripping down from the lamps overhead to actually care about any of their words. The golden glow falls over him like a veil, softening the sharpness of his jaw and the edges of his cheekbones.

It makes his eyes shine brighter, bringing out the colour in them – a blue so deep, and crystalline it reminds Eddie of the Pasqyra Sea. Scarlet blooms on his cheeks from laughing too hard, and his curls are plastered on his sweaty forehead because of the hot air dispersing in the packed room.

Being in love with Buck is a recent realisation – one that should have knocked him sideways but instead settled inside him with disarming ease, like his mind and body had been expected it all along. Anyone one else might have freaked out, but Eddie simply accepted it as some universal truth impossible to deny, humming quietly into his bones, patient, and persistent, waiting to be noticed. And now that he has, it just can’t be ignored.

His love for him is absolute, undeniable, like saying that the ocean is made of water, or that grass grows green in spring. It didn’t shake him up, or break him open with fear, and shame. It rooted itself quietly, and deeply in the soil of his chest and bloomed into stunning, colourful flowers.

Loving Buck feels easier than breathing. It’s comfort, a soothing balm for his open wounds. It’s the hush of calm waters lulling him toward safety. It feels like home – the home he’s been searching for all his life. Buck tiptoed into his heart without a sound and, somehow, fixed all his jagged, broken parts, mending his splintered soul until Eddie was whole again.

It’s beautiful and it takes him higher than he’s ever been. But reality brings him back down in the cruellest of ways because Buck is not his to keep and it hurts – it aches like hell being the spectator of a life he’ll never get to fully hold, being the comic relief of his own story, the sidekick in a badly written rom-con where the best friend that was there first never gets the girl in the end.

It tears him apart – seeing him with someone else, knowing Eddie’s not the one kissing him goodnight at his apartment door after a soft evening together. It’s devastating to watch him from afar, whishing he was the one holding him through the night, shielding him from the ghosts of his nightmares with his own bare hands. It’s torture not being the one who gets to lace their fingers together on the sidewalk, catching the secret smile growing on his lips, hidden in the folds of a scarf on a cold winter day.

And yet he can’t let go. So, Eddie loves him quietly, from the side-lines, through small gestures and steady devotion. He loves him patiently, in the way he offers his couch after movie nights with his son, putting a blanket over him when Buck dozes off mid-sentence.

Eddie loves him in the way he always double-checks his gear before going out on a call, how he takes care of him without failing – bandaging his wounds, watching his back, grounding him through every reckless leap to make sure he makes it out alive.

He loves him when he listens to him talk for hours to no end about everything and anything; every time he makes Buck tea after a bad nightmare; in every moment he lets Buck feel safe enough to fall apart. And most of all, in the way Eddie trusts him – and only him – with his son, because he knows Buck loves Chris as fiercely as a father would, laying down his life for him without hesitation.

Eddie loves him in every way he’s allowed to, because losing him – it’s so unbearable he can’t even think about it. He’d rather have Buck in his life like this than lose him forever. Eddie knows, realistically, he could survive an existence without Buck besides him – humans adapt and heal, after all. Sure, it’d be a rather dull existence, a hollow survival, but he’d manage, somehow.

He’s got Chris with him and that’s all he would ever need. It’s just that he doesn’t want to live without Buck illuminating every single day of his life. He’d wither like a flower left without water for days, and he’d become sad like a tree that’s been stripped of all his leaves. Eddie would become dark, cold, and miserable like the Earth stuck in an endless winter without sunlight.

This situation doesn’t sit right with him. It festers quietly, unease pooling in the pit of his stomach, head stuck in a restless chaos of static. But Eddie is learning to live with it, to swallow the pain, and accept that he can’t love Buck like a lover would. As long as Buck’s happy though – even if it’s with someone else – Eddie will be fine. He must be.

Except, Buck is not happy.

Eddie knows him well enough to unmask his best friend when he pretends to be fine, to recognise the difference between the Buck radiant with joy, thriving in the light, and the Buck who hides everything behind a plastic grin that never quite reach his eyes and a laughter that’s too loud, dissonant, almost off-key. Buck hurting is a concealed contrast, like a song with a vibrant beat and apparently happy lyrics that hides a much bluer reality.

That night, Eddie doesn’t mean to notice. He isn’t looking for cracks in Buck’s armour on purpose. But once he sees them, once he acknowledges the sadness drowning in those sapphire waters, he just cannot forget.

Eddie catches the way Buck’s jaw tightens, subtle but sharp, when he brushes off jabs, which are supposed to be funny, but cut far deeper, and how he pretends to laugh anyway as if they were the funniest jokes in the world, like he’s in on the joke and not the punchline.

He sees the moment Buck grows antsy, fingers twitching like he’s searching for an anchor – a hand to hold, a side to lean into, an arm to squeeze until his panic simmers into a low hum in the back of his mind. And instead, he finds nothing but cold air grazing his skin, exasperated sighs, and hushed reprimands to stop being so clingy.

Eddie watches with boiling rage as Buck offers himself up repeatedly – his heart, his attention, his loyalty, and soul – asking for nothing but love in return. Excepts he only receives silence and broken promises.

It makes Eddie’s chest ache seeing how Buck seems to shrink into himself every time his boyfriend dismisses him out of hand and never really listens. The brightness in his eyes dim, his shoulders hunch, and he gets so quiet that Eddie thinks he’s trying to make himself disappear.

A vicious, overwhelming fury corrodes his whole body like acid and makes his insides painfully churn, his teeth setting on edge. He’s forced to endure it, clamping down his desire to cross the table and plant his fist right in Tommy’s smug face.

If it weren’t for Frank, Eddie would’ve shamelessly given in to this rage without a second thought. Tommy should be glad his therapist helped him become the more balanced person he is nowadays because only God knows how tempting the prospect of hurting him looks.

Buck deserves someone who lifts him higher, not someone dragging him down in the dumps. He shouldn’t be begging for scraps, folding himself into something smaller and quieter, becoming the hollow shell of himself just to please a man who tolerates him at best and breaks him a little more each time. He shouldn’t have to earn affection like it’s conditional or long for care and understanding that in the end never comes.

What Buck needs – what he deserves – is a person who will devote themselves to him with no reserve and hold his heart as something to cherish and preserve, not crush and burn. Someone willing to hold him when he wants to cry or fall apart, to guide him through the darkness when he feels lost, and to make him laugh until he can’t breathe just to see him happy.

He deserves somebody who doesn’t make his head hang in shame for being too much but thrives instead in watching him grow finally comfortable in his own skin, relishing in the wild joy and restless energy, in the quiet vulnerability and the relentless hope.

He should have, right next to his side, someone who worships his every curve – the dimples at the bottom of his spine, the scatter of freckles across his shoulders, his hyper-fixations that light him up with passion and interest. All the little things that Eddie’s so in love with. Things Tommy ignores.

Eddie can’t fathom how Tommy could be so lucky to have someone like Buck and just not worship the ground he walks on, failing to see the miracle standing in front of him.

Eddie isn’t perfect, but he’s certain of one thing: he’d do better. He’d be so, so much better for Buck.

He loves him so much it gets harder even to breathe sometimes, like his lungs can’t expand against the swell of it. At the same time, it makes him alive in ways he’s never experienced. He’d be devoted to him. He’d carry him over fire and water for his love, walking through hell and back with bare feet only to catch a glimpse of the little dimple in his cheek and the crinkles in his blue eyes.

He’d do literally anything for Buck. And Tommy? Tommy has the audacity to bring him down, to chip away at him without understanding he’s holding something sacred.

Eddie thinks it should be a crime.

Buck is a pure, iridescent light that no one should be able to snuff out. He’s the sun bringing him warmth when he shivers in cold, the only ocean Eddie would willingly strand himself in, drowning in sweet, calm waters.

He’s the light guiding him through the darkness of his mind, the gravity that grounds him when the world spins too fast pulling him back from the edge, the only god Eddie would ever believe in enough to sacrifice his own body and soul for. He’s all and he’s more than everything he’s ever dared to dream.

But he’s not his.

Honestly, it’s unfair and tonight the feeling of injustice tightens the knot in his chest until it coils harder, frantically clawing at his insides, as he notices Tommy giving Buck a look for fidgeting too much. It’s not even Buck’s fault – it never is. He gets restless whenever he sits for a long time unless he’s bone-tired or truly comfortable, and only calms once he finds something to do or someone willing to ground him with touch.

Usually, Eddie is the one helping him – it’s only natural, considering they spend most of their time around each other – but anyone who cares about him has seen this side of Buck at least once and did something about it. His boyfriend should know this, for God’s sake. And yet he offers nothing – no comfort, no grounding, only annoyance, like Buck’s a child tugging at his sleeve to seek attention.

Buck darts his eyes to his lap and hunches his shoulders, threading his fingers together so tightly his knuckles whiten. Eddie tries to breathe in and out a few times to cool himself, hot rage pervading his entire body, unyielding. Across the table, Hen catches his eyes, gaze knowing, and he just shrugs, a helpless twitch of his shoulders.

She must have noticed his tension and the way Buck suddenly went quiet, chewing on his lower lip, his beautiful blue eyes all sad and gloomy. Probably, they aren’t the only one spotting it. No one likes Tommy and they all see how Buck gets whenever they’re together.

Eddie’s not surprised to feel Ravi nudging at him with his knee under the table, an eloquent look on his face. “Do something, or I’ll kill him.”

It takes everything he has not to laugh at Ravi’s whisper despite the situation. Eddie clamps his jaw shut and nods once. Ravi, satisfied enough, goes back to his tequila.

“Hey.” Eddie waits until Tommy is distracted by a conversation about basketball before lightly bumping Buck’s shoulder with his. “You alright?”

Buck gulps, jaw tightening, and just shakes his head. His lip caught between his teeth like he’s trying to physically stop the tears from spilling out. Eddie’s fury climbs back up in his throat like bile, but he forces it down, swallowing hard, for his best friend’s sake. Exploding now, in the middle of a crowded bar surrounded by all their friends, would only lead to Buck retreating further into himself.

So, even if he’s very close to snapping and wiping that arrogant look off Tommy’s face, Eddie wills himself to breathe and provide what Buck needs – quiet, steady comfort. He flips his hand palm-up on his thigh without uttering a single word.

Buck hesitates for a whole second, sneaking a glance at Tommy like he’s afraid to be caught, and then his fingers slide into his. Buck lets out a relieved sigh as the tension in his body slowly bleeds out, like he was waiting all night just for that.

He gets closer as their joined hands settle in Eddie’s lap under the table, leaning in so the view is shielded from his boyfriend sitting next to him. Automatically, Eddie’s thumb starts brushing the back of his hand, back and forth, grounding him, placating the storm swirling in his chest.

“Thanks.” Buck whisper is small, almost inaudible, but thick with relief and gratitude. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Eddie’s soft voice doesn’t match the fury he feels within every particle of his body. He thinks it’s insane that Buck is apologising – as if needing comfort from the person who supposedly loves him the most is something to feel ashamed about.

He’s even thanking him for it with such relief in his voice that it makes Eddie want to punch something. Like Tommy’s gross smirk, for example, the one he’s wearing now as he laughs and drinks like he hasn’t been neglecting his boyfriend all night.

It's not like Eddie has never seen those things before. The truth is, he’s been noticing them since the beginning of Tommy and Buck’s relationship. He always thought his best friend deserved better than this excuse of a human being. But back then, he assumed it was only jealousy talking – twisting everything, making look Tommy worse than he was.

Hell, he’d even liked the guy at the beginning: playing basketball with him, sharing a few laughs over beers, letting him fly them to Vegas just to watch a fight. It was exciting, like all new friendships usually are. They bonded over the same interests, and it seemed alright because it’s nice to make new friends once in a while.

But then, Tommy got with Buck and Eddie quickly realized he wasn’t as fun anymore. He tried to give him the benefit of the doubt – he genuinely did – but it didn’t last long.

Almost a year later, Eddie can state with certainty that it’s not just jealousy anymore. It’s clarity. Anyone with eyes could see that Tommy is just a piece of shit. These days, he can barely tolerate the guy’s existence, his distaste growing so sharp he doesn’t even bother to hide it anymore. Especially considering that he’s the one picking up the pieces every single time Buck ends up crying his eyes out after another bad argument.

It’s Eddie who looks after him when Buck gets injured, who holds him until his shaking stops and his nightmares go away, who anchors him when he’s lost at sea and lightens the weight of the world that Buck so often drags behind him like a chain.

It’s him who catches him every time he falls, who always watches his back and gives him a safe space to land, who does all the things his boyfriend should – but always fails to. At this point, Eddie is more of a partner to Buck than Tommy ever has been. Not that it’d take much effort, anyway.

He doesn’t know how much longer he can endure this quiet martyrdom, but Eddie figures that he can wait a few more months, see if things shift, if they can get any better. After all, it’s not his place to decide who Buck should date.

If it were up to Eddie, he’d jump at the chance with eyes closed. He’d already be there – holding his hand, kissing him in front of everyone, spooning him in bed at night, building the domestic life they’ve already started together, since that fated day where Buck saved Chris, and maybe even before. Hell, he’d marry him in a heartbeat.

But it isn’t his place. He isn’t Buck’s keeper, not his boyfriend – no matter how much his heart wishes otherwise.

Eddie feels like Laurie, so desperately in love with Jo he’s spent most of his time offering his life to her, hoping one day she’d love him back. Maybe, deep down, he knew she’d never return his feelings, but love can’t be chosen – just like Eddie can’t choose to ignore what he feels for his best friend, how utterly devout he’ll always be to him, even if Buck might not love him like that.

But God he can be so much better for Buck. He already is.

The thought lingers, sticking like a splinter in his fingertip. It throbs as he buries it under laughter, routine, the weight of life. It stings when Buck’s smile falters, when his voice grows smaller and his hands ball into fists hidden in his pocket.

And he tries – he really tries – to be respectful and support his best friend however he can, without blatantly telling Buck that he should just tell Tommy to go fuck himself. But life has a funny way of knocking over your plans and shoving all your good intentions right out of the window.

It doesn’t even take long. In fact, it takes less than a week. And it’s Tommy’s fault anyway that Eddie backtracks from his resolves faster than a speeding bullet. He was even willing to mind his own business, to let things play out as they might. But then, Tommy had to be an asshole and ruin everything.

It happens after a bad shift when Buck sprains his wrist during a rescue. It’s not life-threatening, but doctors advise him to rest and avoid using it for at least a week.

Eddie immediately volunteers to take him home and stay the night to make sure he’ll be fine, but Buck reassures him with that soft smile that always makes him melt – the kind that could calm rough waters, and make constellations realign just to orbit around him.

“Don’t worry, Eds. Tommy’s coming to get me home and he’ll spend the night. I’ll be fine.” He says it like the idea of that idiot taking care of him should make him feel less worried.

Eddie swallows the protest perched on the tip of his tongue because it’s not his place to insist – he can’t exactly tell his best friend he wouldn’t trust Tommy with a house plant, let alone taking care of him. At least, Eddie deems Buck responsible enough to take his meds and rest for a night.

So, it should be fine. Buck even texts him later to update him before going to bed, and Eddie’s worry unclenches just enough to let him catch some sleep.

But in the morning, apprehension spikes again in his chest, sharp and burning, when his phone lights up with a sudden call from an extremely distressed Buck. It nearly makes his heart stop.

“I don’t know what happened, Eds.” Buck’s voice is rough and full of panic, like the world is collapsing under his feet and the sky’s falling on him. “I think I’m cursed again.”

“What?” Eddie’s just dropped Chris off at school and is still standing in the parking lot, leaning against the side of his truck. For a moment he’s amused, almost fond, hearing his best friend being his usual dramatic self. But then, something in his voice twists deep in Eddie’s gut. “You’re not cursed, Buck. Why do you even think that?”

“My face is covered with boils.” Buck blurts and makes a dramatic pause before starting to spiral, talking fast, his voice dripping with panic. “Boils, Eds. It’s him again. Billy. His curse never left and–”

“Hey.” Eddie gently cuts in, already sliding behind the wheel, starting the engine. “Try breathing for me, sweetheart, okay? I’m on my way.”

“Please.” Buck sucks in a shaky breath. “I think I’m going to die.”

“Not on my watch.”

Eddie’s at Buck’s front door in less than twenty minutes. Buck opens it with a grimace, red-rimmed eyes, and angry boils spread across his face and neck, bright against the paleness underneath. The sight knocks the air from Eddie’s lungs. He steps inside, not even trying to hide the concern etched across every line of his face.

“Let’s take a look at these, okay?”

Buck nods, swallowing hard, and shuffles off to retrieve the first aid kit he keeps under the bathroom sink. His steps are fast and a little clumsy – his anxiety evident even as he tries to put a brave face on.

In the living room there isn’t the usual tidiness. A basket full of freshly washed clothes lies on the couch, sweaters and odd socks decorating its backrest. Two empty mugs and a half-empty bottle of beer linger on the coffee table next to a couple of dirty boxes of what was probably takeout food.

The screen of the TV is still frozen on Dean Winchester’s sombre face staring at something – probably mid-argument with his stupid brother after discovering he’d been drinking demon blood and banging a demon that’s going to betray them again.

Eddie distractedly thinks that he’ll take care of the mess later for Buck, considering that his boyfriend didn’t even help putting away the trash after dinner. When he heads into the kitchen, he almost decks said boyfriend in the head. Tommy is at the table, utterly unbothered, scrolling through his phone with a scowl on that stupid face that makes Eddie’s blood pressure spike.

“Diaz.”

Eddie just nods at him, eyes narrowing, glaring until Buck walks back into the room with the kit and all his focus zeroes in on his best friend. Even though Buck’s body is quite bulk in a way that suggests he could definitely take a hit, right now he looks small, drowning in the fluffy, oversized sweater he’s wearing. He sinks into one of the chairs, and Eddie steps in between his legs as he slips on a pair of plastic gloves.

“See? It’s the curse.” Buck sounds miserable. “I look awful. Tommy didn’t even want to kiss it better.”

“What if it’s contagious, Evan?” Tommy mutters, finally glancing up from his phone, irritation soaking his tone. “I can’t catch anything. I don’t want to miss work.”

Eddie forces himself not to explode. He doesn’t dwell on Tommy’s behaviour, doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a fight – especially not in front of Buck. He also tries his hardest to suppress the urge of blurting out that he’d kiss every single boil better, as many times as Buck demanded, if it would cheer him up.

So instead, he focuses on him. Eddie cradles Buck’s chin, gently tilting his face to inspect the damage up close.

Red, swollen welts stain Buck’s skin, blistering and angry, like fire had licked over, refusing to heal. Some have burst into raw, oozing patches; others bulge tight and shiny. Eddie’s stomach churns – this isn’t a mild reaction.

He doesn’t let himself panic, though and starts cleaning them with soft, methodical motions, his fingers already knowing how to move to avoid hurting him any further. He gets closer, curling over him as he gently applies disinfectant with a rough piece of gauze, the sterile scent of antiseptic spreading in the air.

“It’s not a curse.” He announces in a low murmur. “Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little. My head hurts a lot, too.” Buck’s eyes are full of unshed tears and his hands are clutching Eddie’s shirt at his sides, trembling. He lets out a soft whimper when Eddie touches a particularly raw spot, and his heart clenches at the sound. “They sting, Eds.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

Eddie doesn’t care that the term of endearment has just slipped out his mouth a second time. It feels natural, a way to comfort his best friend because he knows Buck likes them. In fact, he doesn’t even flinch. If anything, Buck’s shoulders loosen up a little, as though the word steadied him.

He thinks they should go to the hospital, even if it’s going to be a hard task convincing Buck because he hates hospitals and tries to avoid them at all costs but always ends up there, one way or another, gravity drawing him towards chaos like some cursed hero.

He can’t leave him like this, though. If the boils are a side effect of an allergic reaction, Buck needs to be seen by a doctor before things escalate.

“Why am I still cursed? What’s wrong with me?”

“Stop being dramatic, Evan. You’re not cursed. I’m sure it’s not even that bad, right?” Tommy scoffs, eyeing him with exasperation. Eddie wants to hurt him. Badly.

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s a curse either, Buck.” Eddie doesn’t even look at Tommy. He keeps his eyes trained on Buck, voice softer as he finishes cleaning the worst of it. Then, he strips the gloves off and folds them away before brushing aside a damp blond curl from his forehead.

Buck immediately catches one of Eddie’s hands before he even has the time to realize it. Eddie automatically squeezes back. “It’s probably an allergic reaction and we should really take you to the hospital.”

“I don’t want to.” Buck whines, a few tears spilling out as his voice softly breaks.

“I know you don’t like hospitals, sweetheart.” Eddie cups his face with tenderness, gently wiping away the tears with his thumbs. His heart aches – the thought of Buck hurting, scared, makes Eddie feel like Atlas, trying to shoulder a sky too heavy. “But you need to get checked out. We don’t know what caused these boils.”

“I’m telling you.” Buck sniffles and pouts a little, stubbornly looking at him. “It’s Billy Boils.”

“Stop being childish, Evan.” Tommy rolls his eyes and stands up to grab the car keys off the counter behind him. “If Diaz thinks it’s better to get you to the hospital, then we’ll go.”

“It can’t be an allergy!” Buck bites his lower lip, clinging to Eddie’s shirt like a lifeline. “I didn’t even eat anything last night because I was feeling sick. It can’t be!”

“Did you take anything?” Eddie asks, his tone concerned.

“Just some paracetamol for the pain.”

“No, Evan.” Tommy is looking at him with annoyance, like he’s addressing a child who never listens to their parents. Eddie really, really wants to knock him out. “I gave you ibuprofen because it’s stronger and you were in a lot of pain.”

Eddie freezes, the air leaving his lungs like a punch in the gut. A poisonous fury slides through him, hands clenching into fists and jaw tightening so hard it almost feels like he’s about to stir a muscle. Tommy gave Buck ibuprofen – and Buck is allergic to naproxen. A tiny, basic detail a boyfriend should know.

Eddie’s control teeters and he’s only one single breath away from snapping, punching him right in the face. Frank’s words echo in the back of his mind, reminding him to breathe, but it’s drowned out by the roar of his pulse.

“What?” Tommy looks confused now as he scans their expressions. “Is there a problem?”

“You.” Eddie snaps, seething. “You are the problem.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“Buck’s allergic to NSAIDs. You should remember which allergies your boyfriend has after a whole fucking year of relationship.” Eddie’s breath is ragged, and his self-control dangles by a thread.

“You never told me, Evan!” Tommy shoots Buck a glare. “And you didn’t say anything yesterday when I gave you the meds! How the hell was I supposed to know?”

“I told you many times.” Buck’s voice is so little that Eddie feels like crying himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t bother to check because I thought…”

“No.” Eddie is digging daggers at Tommy with his eyes, voice cutting through the air like a blade sharp enough to draw blood. “You don’t get to blame him. Take full responsibility of the fact that you almost killed him.”

“I think it’s a bit too much for just some boils.” Tommy huffs, defensive, folding his arms like a petulant child. “It’s not my fault”.

“If you don’t disappear from my sight right now, I’m going to punch you. Hard.”

And Eddie would’ve just done that – God, he would’ve walked the few steps separating them and ended the conversation with a single, hard, well delivered right punch – if it weren’t for Buck’s arms suddenly clutching his waist, face buried between his shoulder blades.

“Please.” His words are muffled against the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, raw and upset.

Eddie knows what Buck means and just deflates, his anger subsiding, collapsing under the wight of Buck’s shaking voice, turning into a low, frustrating hum in the back of his mind. It feels like the still quiet after a storm, still dangerous and electric.

Tommy looks outraged by what it’s happening, as if he were the victim her, but he seems to have enough decency to look a little guilty when Buck’s sobs break through the room. Eddie literally growls at him when he makes a move to come closer to Buck and the animal, guttural sound is enough to make him falter.

“I guess I’ll just go for now.”

“You better.” Eddie’s eyes don’t leave Tommy’s retreating form until the door slams and his footsteps fade down the hallway into silence. “Dick.”

His best friend is sniffling quietly, trying to stifle the hiccups shaking his whole body. Eddie lets out a long sigh before turning in his arms, wrapping him up like something fragile, firmly, as if he could protect him from all the ache and dangers of the world with his touch only.

Buck just presses closer, hiding his face into Eddie’s stomach. The silence surrounding them is still leaking with a tension Eddie attempts to dull by whispering sweet nothings into Buck’s hair, as if the low litany of comfort could stitch his heart back together.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, okay? You’re safe.”

The sound of Buck’s sobs fades into hiccups, and then into breathing – unsteady, but real. Eddie keeps whispering reassurances, tracing small circles into his back until the tension leaves his body.

It's while he’s waiting for Buck at the hospital, sitting on the uncomfortable chairs of the waiting room with the glare of fluorescent lights above him and the chaotic buzz of voices in the background, that something inside of him snaps clean in two.

The hard plastic of the chair digs into his back, the air reeks so much of antiseptic that it makes his stomach coil with queasiness, legs nervously bouncing. He’s staring hard at the white, pristine wall in front of him as Buck’s small voice replays in his head like a hunting refrain: I told him many times.

Eddie rubs a hand over his face, exhaustion sinking deep into his bones. He’s tired of seeing his best friend hurt – tired of watching him drown, over and over, while trying to reach the safety of the shore, asking for the help of someone who doesn’t even realise Buck’s barely able to stay afloat.

Eddie’s had enough. If Tommy keeps on breaking him, Eddie will build him back piece by piece – patiently, fiercely, like a craftsman repairing sacred glass. He might not be worthy of Buck’s love, but Eddie can be a better boyfriend than Tommy ever will.

And he’s going to show him as if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

Buck deserves to be cherished. To be chosen every single day. To be loved deeply, like it’s something inevitable. He deserves someone who never gets enough of his brightness, and brings him solace instead of pain, laughter instead of apologies. Buck should be adored, not treated like a load too troublesome to carry around.

And Eddie knows, with an ache so deep it feels holy, that he is that someone.

Eddie’s finally done standing in the shadows, watching him from a distance, biting his tongue to avoid exposing his real feelings while his best friend withers under someone else’s neglect.

He doesn’t have a definite plan in his head, only the steady drum of his heart chanting do something at him. His head sketches several detailed scenarios as his eyes dart to the row of plastic chairs in front of him, half occupied by other mildly injured people waiting for their turn.

He thinks of flowers because he knows that Buck loves them – but it feels too obvious, too loud for a first step.

He could go with handwritten notes, maybe. Anonymous, at least at the start, with little compliments to make him smile. He pictures Buck finding one tucked into his locker, lips stretching in a shy smile and cheeks flushing slightly – but words would probably give him away too easily.

For a brief, reckless moment, Eddie contemplates about grabbing his face and kissing him until Buck gets the message – but even the thought makes his heart pound too hard, and he exhales the fantasy out like smoke.

It’s just that he already does most of the things a boyfriend should, anyway, so he’s left only with gestures that fall into the romantic territory – and those feel like a little too soon to approach for now, considering Buck isn’t single. He should probably start small, and gentle with something that Buck won’t push away.

Later that night, after coming back from the hospital and convincing his best friend to take his bed, Eddie paces his living room, debating with himself like a fool for a solid hour. Finally, he settles on something simple: coffee.

When it comes to Buck, coffee is practically a love language, an emotional barometer, a compass Eddie knows perfectly how to read.

Sadness comes with iced coffee, vanilla syrup, and almond milk. When he’s extremely blue – and after fights with Eddie of whatever degree – he shamelessly adds whipped cream and chocolate chips on top, as if a sugar rush could actually stitch his heart back together.

Happiness, for contrast, always tastes like cinnamon rolls and cold milk macchiato with a drop of black coffee – the kind of joy that melts on the tongue.

On days where exhaustion wins, he chunks it with hot milk and a sprinkle of cinnamon on the top, drowning his fatigue and sleepiness in the strongest bland they have in stock in the pantry’s station.

When he’s pissed off, he’ll steal a few sips of black, bitter coffee from Eddie’s mug, grimace like he’s been poisoned, and then accept a much sweeter one from a fond Bobby whose warm hand on his shoulder eases his frustration into tired resignation.

So, yeah – coffee is a complicated matter, but Eddie knows him and his coffee habits better than Buck himself, speaking this language as if it were his mother tongue. He can predict the storm from the tiny furrow between his brows, and figure what kind of day is going to be for Buck with just a glance, knowing exactly which sip belongs to each mood, which sweetness follows which heartbreak.

On Monday, Eddie lets Buck take a sip from his own cup before handing him the sweeter coffee Bobby has already arranged for him, because he knows Buck’s still mad with Tommy. Since the allergy episode, they’ve been fighting almost every day – small arguments that grow teeth and claws, leaving Buck furious, simmering with frustration for most of the shifts and a heartbreak he barely manages to hide.

It leaves Eddie pissed off too, watching Buck spiral like that, wearing his sadness like a second skin. One night, when Buck ditches their weekly movie night to go on a date with Tommy – because Tommy, as always, wants to fix things with a half-assed dinner, a weak apology, and a quick fuck – Eddie feels acid rise in his throat.

The fight that follows feels inevitable to Eddie. Loud, messy, full of things that neither of them means to say, but still hurt worse than fire burning skin.

Eddie accuses him of breaking his promise to Chris even though the teenager doesn’t mind Buck missing one night. He even asks his father – with the sassy, knowing eyes only teenagers manage to master – why he’s getting so worked up over something they could’ve simply reschedule.

Eddie knows it’s useless to hide things from his son – he learned that the hard way. So, he admits that he’s jealous, a feeling so ugly and raw that sits heavy in his chest and clutches his stomach until it makes him nauseous.

With Buck, instead, he lashes out. And when Buck goes quiet, lips pressed tight like he’s trying not to apologize for making him mad, something that isn’t even his fault, Eddie instantly regrets it, and guilt hits him like a punch in his gut.

So, feeling like shit and consumed with guilt, Eddie shows up on Thursday morning with the monstrosity Buck drinks only when he’s sad and a box of cinnamon rolls from his favourite pastry shop. Buck’s whole face lights up like it’s Christmas morning, and the way his eyes shine damply makes Eddie’s chest coil with a silent ache that spreads throughout his body like a wildfire.

“Eds,” Buck mutters, voice small, a little wrecked. “you didn’t have to–“

“Yeah, I did.” Eddie gently cuts him off, handing him the drink and the pastries. “An iced coffee with vanilla syrup, almond milk, and extra whipped cream. They didn’t have chocolate chips, but I brought cinnamon rolls even if you’re not happy right now. I hope it’s okay.”

“Of course, I–“Buck blinks rapidly, surprised, eyelashes damp, and a smile – that soft, shy, Buck smile – curls at the corner of his mouth. “How did you know–“

“I know you like to drink this when you’re sad. I know you like cinnamon sprinkled on your coffee every time you’re tired, that you always pretend to like black coffee when you’re angry but end up drinking a sweeter one anyway” Eddie tells him, brushing aside a golden curl from his forehead. “I just know you. And I’m sorry for what I said.”

“I’m sorry too.”

They make up not even a second later, pulling each other into a hug so tight, it gets harder to breathe, but Eddie doesn’t care. He doesn’t let go as Buck’s arms lock around him, trembling, clutching his shirt like a lifeline.

On sleepy days, Eddie makes the hot milk with cinnamon, sliding it in front of him on the table, steam curling like a halo between them. Then, without a word, he leans down and presses a soft kiss over the birthmark on Buck’s eyebrow, reverent, and Buck lazily smiles up at him with heavy, half-closed, eyes.

It’s not that Eddie’s actions are that different from the before – now, though, he does them with a different intent. His glances linger, touch softens, his heart sits bare on his sleeves in a way that changes everything.

And those around them notice. Hen, Chim and Ravi exchange amused looks across the room, sending him knowing smirks that Eddie usually ignores, or deflects with an exaggerated eyeroll or a resigned exhale.

His next step comes naturally. He provides him with words of affirmations at every chance he gets, slipped into conversations like whispered prayers. He starts with small, honest praises, and gentle, almost clumsy compliments that roll off his tongue like he’s tasting them for the first time.

“You did a very good job out there, Buck” or “You should just cook us dinner every night, Buck, it’s fucking delicious” and “I enjoy your rants a lot, Buck. They’re super interesting. It feels good learning new stuff.”

Every time, Buck gives him a smile so soft and shy that lights up the whole room and Eddie just can’t help falling even more in love with him. He gets bolder then, whenever he catches Buck’s eyes cast down, his brightness dimming and smile faltering.

“You did your best, Buck. It’s not your fault. You’re enough” Eddie whispers to him after a call goes wrong or “You’re amazing, Buck. I trust you with my son more than anyone else. You’re family” when he second-guesses for a second his place in his and Chris’ life.

And when Tommy makes him feel bad about any parts of himself, when he makes him doubt himself, Eddie’s always there to counter it, to remind Buck that his excuse of a boyfriend is just a dick.

“Yeah, okay, you might be clingy. So what? No one gives better hugs than you” he murmurs, arm wrapped tight around his shoulders, or “It’s not your fault he’s a dick who doesn’t even remember basic simple stuff about his boyfriend. You’re not too much. You make everyone’s life better, Buck.”

Buck usually ends up with his blue, beautiful eyes wet with tears, biting his lip to keep himself from breaking down. Eddie always pulls him into his chest, sheltering him through the storm until it dies out.

Finally, Eddie starts casually slipping compliments in, too – his tone dripping low, a little flirty, enjoying the blush on Buck’s cheeks that appears every single time like a clockwork, teasing at the line between friendship and something more.

Like when they stop to get breakfast after a very tiring 24-hours shift. They’re sitting in a booth, light dimmed low, diner almost empty at that hour in the morning. Buck’s halfway through his pancakes, chocolate smeared on the corner of his lips, unruly curls still damp from the shower they did back at the station.

He’s wearing one of Eddie’s soft sweater with the station’s logo and Diaz written across his back because he forgot his in the locker room. The sight makes Eddie warm with fuzzy feelings, butterflies fluttering in his stomach at the thought that Buck is wearing his clothes, as if he belonged to him. And he just can’t help it.

He stirs his coffee once, twice, and then says it – simple, devastating.

“You’re very pretty like this.”

“What?” Buck flushes, his lips parted and a stunned expression on his face.

“You’re pretty.” Eddie repeats, a little amused, stretching a hand toward his face to wipe off the smear of chocolate on his face with his thumb – slow, and deliberate. Then, he licks it off, staring into Buck’s eyes, gaze heavy enough to thicken the air between them, before breaking the contact to get back to his own breakfast as if nothing happened.

“T-thanks.” Buck squawks, nearly choking on his pancakes, cheeks flaming as he stuffs his mouth with more pancakes to hide his embarrassment as Eddie smiles into his coffee, heart warm and stupidly full.

Eddie knows exactly what he’s doing. Every move, every lingering look, every touch, and half-meant word is deliberate – steady, meaningful in a way that it’s never too obvious. He’s testing the waters, tracing with his fingertips the silhouette of something that might already be there, waiting to be awakened.

And from the way Buck flushes and his eyes widen in surprise, a flicker of something he cannot decipher passing through, Eddie thinks that he might have a little chance.

So, his plan slowly unfolds like an intricate mystery in a book of thousand pages, written in invisible ink only they can read.

Eddie gets a little more physical with him. He doubles their hugs and doesn’t let go as quickly as before, stroking his back with steady motions meant to soothe, and ground him. His lips start to wander too – brushing his temple, pressing into his curls, like it’s natural and easy as breathing, lips lingering a beat longer than necessary each time.

It’s subtle enough to pass for platonic affection but it holds a weight, leaving an echo that rings in the air and reverberates through them like the aftershock of a stuck chord.

Whenever Buck starts fidgeting too much – bouncing his leg like he’s pressing the pedal of a drum, playing the frantic rhythm of a metal solo, or twisting his fingers until they turn red – Eddie’s there to calm him with touch. A steady hand squeezing his thigh, warm and firm; a palm pressed on the back of his neck, fingers massaging the tension away in slow circles.

After a draining shift, it’s Eddie who holds him close for infinite minutes, pressed chest to chest, to let Buck recharge until he can breathe normally again – until they have to drag themselves toward the showers and keep the day going.

During movie nights, Eddie and Chris flank Buck on the couch like bookends, and by the time the credits roll, Chris has sprawled across Buck’s chest the same exact way he did when he was younger, snoring softly.

Eddie’s arms circle both of them, protective, as Buck’s head lolls with drowsiness until it finally lands on his shoulder. The sight always twists something deep inside of him – because it’s his family and he’d die for them.

Then, Eddie gets flirtier with touches too, veiled under the thinnest of excuses – because once he tastes Buck’s obvious flush, he gets addicted to it. In the kitchen, while Buck cooks at his place, he slides up behind him, pretending to reach for something in the cupboard, and lingers there, pressing their bodies for one fleeting second longer than he should.

“C’mon, Eds, I’m trying to make dinner here.” Buck giggles, half-hearted, cheeks red from the heat of the stove and maybe something else too. “Move.”

“Can’t.” Eddie murmurs low in his ear, grinning at the sound of his laugh. “You’re in the way.”

“You’re in the way.”

Eddie tickles his sides, feigning offense, and Buck tries to run away from him without much result. They end up laughing and leaning into each other until they’re both out of breath. Eddie is so far gone that he thinks he can get drunk on the sweet sound of Buck’s chuckle. It bubbles out of him like sunlight spilling through the cracks of a storm.

When they do the inventory in the small storage room at the station, Eddie places both hands on Buck’s hips in a light grip to pass by and reach the other shelf to check on something, blatantly ignoring that there’s plenty of space to use.

Buck’s usually too focused on the list attached to his clipboard to actually notice something but he always leans back against his chest unconsciously, chewing on the cap of the pen he’s holding in his fingers, and Eddie thrives in the brief contact.

He leans close, lips grazing the shell of his ear as he whispers something meant only for Buck when they’re surrounded by other people, hot breath tickling his skin, just to watch him shiver, hearing the chuckles that follow vibrating through his chest.

He even goes as far as cupping his cheek with reverence before pressing a kiss, light as a feather, to his cheek, wishing him goodnight when Buck, sleepy and tired, crashes on his couch.

Buck is clearly confused by the sudden shift, blinking at him with wide, uncertain eyes and lips parted as if he wants to ask him something – but he never does, or pulls away. He looks flustered, ears burning red, smile soft, but pleased. And this tells Eddie everything he needs to know.

The plan evolves then, entering a new phase: take what Tommy does and make it better, outshining him in every possible way. It could be a little childish, but Eddie doesn’t really care up to this point.

For their anniversary Tommy buys Buck tickets to a game he hates. Eddie steps in with aquarium passes, knowing Buck loves going there, and brings him and Chris on the Saturday after the anniversary. Buck has so much fun he ends up spilling a few happy tears, the glowing blue of the water embracing them as they walk through the long corridors of glass tanks. The light ripples across his face, painting him in shifting shades of sapphire.

Buck clutches Eddie’s hand during the whole drive back as Chris falls asleep in the back seat and the truck carries them like a vessel through the night. Neither of them speaks, there’s no need to, and Eddie lets him press their hands until his knuckles turn white, warmth seeping through his skin, settling into his bone like calm waters grazing the shore.

Tommy calls him clingy? Eddie lets Buck be as clingy as he needs, wordlessly opening his arms whenever Buck drifts close, never making him ask. The way Buck buries into his chest and breathes in and out, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt on his back, grounds Eddie too. It’s comforting, like finally coming back home after years of wandering through foreign lands without a destination.

The solid weight on him is never a burden, and the sound of his heart beating anchors him to reality, reminding him that Buck’s alive. Sometimes, Eddie needs to be reminded of that after everything they went through, every time they risk their lives and make it back in one piece.

His boyfriend dismisses his spiralling, deciding he’d rather go to the gym than put up with Buck’s stress baking? Eddie shows up at his loft with Chris in tow after Buck texts him and they all bake together – well Chris helps him stir the batter while Eddie leans on the counter, happily accepting every bite Buck absentmindedly feeds him.

“Is it good?” Buck asks, a nervous spike in his eyes. “I can’t understand if it’s too sweet or–“

“Perfect.” Eddie hums as the sweet taste melt on his tongue and stares at him like he’s talking about something else too and not only about the batter.

Buck flushes hard. “Okay. Thanks. Sure. I – Chris let’s put it in the stamps!”

Chris sighs in exaggerated despair, an unimpressed look on his face, and rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. Eddie just grins at him, unbothered, watching Buck as if he were a masterpiece, he’ll never be tire of admiring, already too far gone to ever want to come back.

When Buck gets a flat tire in the middle of the road, panicking so much he doesn’t know what to do with himself, and Tommy’s too busy to help, Eddie literally flies out the door the moment his distressed call comes through.

He soothes him, guiding Buck through the panic. Together they quickly change the tire, grease on their hands and laughter breaking the tension like sunlight cracking through the clouds after a storm. The scent of asphalt still warm from the afternoon heat clings to them, mingling with the faint tang of motor oil. On their way back they stop for milkshakes as a reward for their hard work – also because Buck is still antsy and sweet food usually makes him feel better.

If Eddie holds his hand, lacing their fingers, right on the sticky table between them as they talk quietly, sipping their vanilla milkshake like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, nobody needs to know.

Buck gets a new hyper fixation and Tommy keeps on dismissing him, making him feel small and insecure? Eddie indulges him, listening to every detail, and keeps firing questions at him until Buck is back to his excited, cute rambling self, eyes alight and sparkles of exhilaration exploding in fireworks Eddie gets to see up close.

Buck’s voice fills the air like soft music, and Eddie soaks in every note, nodding along to the rhythm, his heart harmonising with the sweet melody of his words.

On Friday night, they’re gathered for a dinner at Maddie and Chim’s. Unfortunately, Tommy is there, and Eddie is already on the verge on killing him. After the allergy situation, the team started hating him even more, but they mostly pretend to like him for Buck’s sake.

The only one who really can’t be bothered to hide his distaste is Eddie. Or so he thinks until he sees the way Maddie treats him that night and feels like it’s his duty to back her up. Eddie never thought he’d end up bonding with Buck’s sister over their shared hate for Buck’s boyfriend while plating desserts in her kitchen.

“Did you see how he talks to him? Who the fuck does this horseface think he is?” Maddie hisses, handing Eddie a plate. “If he cuts my baby brother off one more time, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Get in line.” Eddie chuckles darkly, spooning cake onto plates. “I hate his fucking guts.”

“Weren’t you two friends or something?”

“Yeah. For like, a week.” Eddie shudders at the memory of his short friendship with Tommy. “But then he got with your brother.”

Maddie glances at him, a realization dawning in her eyes like slow sunrise. A knowing smirk spreads across her face, and her eyes glitter with mischief.

“You’re jealous.”

“It’s not just that.” Eddie shrugs, unbothered. There’s no point in denying it, considering his intentions and the way he’s been acting lately already betrayed him. “I hate him because Buck doesn’t deserve someone who just berates him and puts out his light. He should be with someone better.”

“And who’d that be?”

“Me.” Eddie grins, wolfish. “I can be a better boyfriend than him and I’m trying to show Buck exactly that.”

“I knew it!” Maddie looks so happy she’s about to jump out her own skin, triumphant. “Chim told me there was something going on with you.”

“Guess I’m really not that subtle.”

“Save my brother from that old dick, please.” Maddie pleads him.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan.” Eddie’s eyebrow wiggle.

They end up giggling like two idiots until Chim wanders in, reclaiming the dessert, and eyes them with puzzlement, baffled by their conspiratorial laughter.

Later, they’re all sitting with their stomach full and satisfied, sipping wine, gossiping mostly about people from the B-shift. Conversations overlap, creating a confused, buzzing chorus, which Eddie finds quite comforting, like he’s wrapped in a quilt stitched from the voices of his loved ones. He knows he’s in a safe space with his family and can let loose without having to worry too much about keeping his pretences up.

The only off-key note souring the harmony of the evening is Tommy, who’s currently discussing yesterday’s game with Bobby and Chim, laughing obnoxiously at his own jokes. His laugh grates like rusted hinges, scraping Eddie’s nerves, making the air around him brittle with tension.

Maddie has been glaring daggers at him, her voice rising just enough so Athena, Hen and Karen can still hear what she’s saying over the noise, Jee snoring lightly on her chest. The sight makes Eddie snort into his wine when she rolls her eyes and catches his look across the table. He just smiles back in quiet understanding.

A very cheerful Ravi has his arm curled around his girlfriend’s shoulders, sharing a Coke with her because she doesn’t like drinking – alcohol sometimes triggers her because of past relationships gone wrong.

Eddie thinks it’s thoughtful of Ravi, the way he always makes sure Allison doesn’t get upset about it. They’re very sweet together, and he kind of likes her chaotic energy. Buck agrees, clearly – he gets along with her as if they’ve known each other for ages, quirks and interests clicking together like perfectly working gears.

Eddie feels a warm tingle in his chest watching the two of them chat, Ravi amusedly commenting at the right time like a bass drum in a full orchestra renditioning a joyful symphony while he is mostly content to just listen. Buck is pressed up against his side, Eddie’s arm casually thrown on the back of his chair, hovering but not quite touching, like a magnet vibrating to get closer.

“…and I genuinely don’t understand why there’s people always skipping that when it’s like one of the best arcs before the timeskip.” Buck is absently chewing on his straw, gesticulating wildly as Allison nods eagerly at every word.

“Exactly! I love that they have time to just explore the island and be pirates before everything goes south as always.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement, restless, as Ravi looks at her with so much fondness Eddie swears it mirrors the way he stares at Buck.

“I agree. Skypiea is absolute peak.” Ravi agrees, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek. She beams, squeezing his hand under the table trying to be subtle but failing miserably.

“You watch this stuff, too?” Eddie arches an eyebrow.

“I like anime, dude. You know me and Buck have been talking about One Piece non-stop for like months.” Ravi reminds him with a chuckle and Eddie shrugs, pretending he doesn’t keep tabs on what Buck talks about with other people.

Truth is, he’s perfectly aware of every one of Buck’s obsessions, every tangent, every spark that ignites his interest. Sometimes though he gets too lost in staring at the ocean in Buck’s eyes, at the way his hands chaotically slice the air when he explains something, at how his lips move, curling and stretching around words, making Eddie long for them like a man dying of thirst craves water in the middle of the desert.

Recently, Buck got into One Piece and has been ranting about it at every chance he gets. He even tried to make him watch it, but thousands episodes are a little too much for Eddie’s cup of tea. He must admit, though, it looks quite fun.

He already knows most of the story beats because Buck often goes on passionate tangents about specific moments, characters, or theories, which Eddie finds quite interesting – and of course they are. Every single thing that comes out his best friend’s mouth is.

“Skypiea is the flying island thing where they fought that electric dude, right?”

“You trained him well, Buckley.” Allison smirks at Buck, making him blush a little.

“You remember?” Buck’s voice is small and surprised. Eddie lets out a fond chuckle.

“Of course. I remember everything you say.”

He’d like to add ‘Unlike your dick of a boyfriend’, but his self-control is actually working this time around, so he just stops at that. Ravi gives him a pointed look that he blatantly ignores, keeping his gaze fixed on Buck’s blue, wide eyes.

Eddie just can’t help but think that being next to Buck feels like sitting too close the brightest Wolf–Rayet star in a starburst galaxy – massive, beautiful, potentially dangerous, and impossible to look away from. In his peripheral vision, he catches Allison whispering something into his boyfriend’s ear that makes him groan softly in exasperation.

“Even stupid things?” Buck looks terribly nervous, uncertainty laid bare, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. His voice trembles faintly, caught between hope and disbelief, like he’s not used to being told that what he says matters.

“Especially those.” Eddie leans in closer, steady, and determinate. “But if they matter to you, they’re not stupid. Nothing you say is.”

Buck blinks at him, lips parting like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how, fingers curling around the sleeves of his sweater. The way he’s looking at him – open, startled, as if no one’s ever said that to him before, makes Eddie’s heart thuds harder in his chest.

“God help me.” Ravi mutters under his breath. “Or kill me. Either’s fine.”

“Babe, I don’t want you die.” Allison gasps, dramatically placing a hand on her chest, voice dripping with faux despair. “You still haven’t brought me to see Hamilton!”

Whatever fragile moment might have bloomed between Eddie and Buck, fizzles under those comments, suddenly bursting like a soap bubble. Buck’s eyes slowly crinkle with amusement, and he giggles. Eddie joins in because maybe it’s safer this way – especially with Tommy sitting right next to them.

“I feel used. You only want me for my money.” Ravi feigns wounded pride.

“For your money and your –”

“Okay.” Eddie cuts in, laughing out loud. “So, One Piece.”

“I still haven’t asked who’s your favourite character!” Allison tells Buck, suddenly scandalised, as if she’d just committed an unforgivable crime.

“Oh. It’s hard.” Buck pauses, taking a sip from his drink as he thinks. “Honestly? I really like Luffy. But I’ve got a huge crush on Robin.”

“Don’t get me started on that.” Allison sighs dreamily. “It’s really sad that they’re just fictional characters. I’d date her in a heartbeat.”

“Hey.” Ravi clutches his chest in mock offense, nearly spilling his drink. Allison rolls her eyes, and leans forward to smack a loud, exaggerated kiss on his lips.

“You’re the real deal, babe. Don’t worry.” She teases, amused. “And yes, I agree on that Buck. Luffy is awesome.”

“It might sound basic, but I don’t know– he’s just different from the standard main character, you know? I love that he stands for real freedom and–”

Buck’s off again, voice tumbling out in excited waves, and Eddie drinks him in like a man dying of thirst. His chin rests in his palm, smile lazy, eyes tracing the movement of Buck’s lips, catching the light that fills his expression when he talks about the things he loves. His chest aches with devotion, and the unbearable sweetness of loving someone so completely.

Buck’s voice is soothing, humming through him, low and gentle. It sounds like a song that was written for his ears only, and Eddie is so in love he thinks he might just melt in a puddle or profess his feelings right in the moment without an ounce of shame.

“You’re still on about that children’s cartoon, Evan?” Tommy’s voice slices through the air like a whip, a serrated blade stabbing their eardrums, every word dipped in condescension. Eddie stills, the laughter gone from his features. “You should stop being this childish.”

“You’re right. Sorry, Tommy, I’ll just stop.” Buck says quickly as his entire posture folds in on itself, shoulders draw inward. His voice shrinks down to nothing, filled with sadness, eyes dropping down to his hands.

Just like that, the light in his face goes out like someone had just blowed on a candle. Eddie swears he can see the flicker behind Buck’s eyes vanish, fading to black, suffocating silence. He feels heat surge inside of him, a rage so hot it almost makes his vision blur. Suddenly, he wishes he could stop something else. Like Tommy’s blood circulation, for example.

“And you should stop being a dick, Kinard.” Allison is glaring at him so fiercely that Eddie thinks she might burn a hole straight through him. Eddie finds himself genuinely liking her even more. “You’re not even part of this conversation, so fuck off.”

“It is my business.” Tommy snaps, chin tilting with misplaced arrogance. “Evan is my boyfriend.”

“It’s Buck, for God’s sake.” Eddie’s voice cracks through the tension, raw and furious, before he can stop himself, words tearing out of his burning chest. The name comes out like a growl. “His name is Buck.”

“Whatever.” Tommy stands up abruptly, chair scraping harshly against the floor. He doesn’t even look at Eddie – just eyes Buck with a sour twist of his mouth. “I think it’s time to go. Evan?”

“You know you can stay, right?” Allison is looking right into Buck’s eyes, softening her glare. “You don’t have to go.”

“I’m a little tired, actually.” Buck is already up, a brittle smile plastered on his lips that doesn’t reach anywhere near his eyes, and Eddie is seething. “It’s better to go but thank you.”

As soon as the front door closes with a soft click behind Buck and Tommy, chaos erupts around the table.

“What the fuck.”

“What a dick.”

“He should break up with him.”

“I’d really like to punch his smirk off his face.”

“I can’t believe Buck’s still with him. Does he have eyes or not?”

Eddie doesn’t join in, too focused on the echo of that door, still looping in his mind the memory of Buck’s light dampening, of his eyes filled with gloom, body shaking with hurt. He wants to run after him to take him home where no one will ever make him feel that small again, but Eddie digs his nails into his palm, forcing his body to stay still. He can’t do that now. Not yet, at least.

“You should do something about it, Eddie.” Ravi eventually plops down next to him as everyone is starting to leave. He has a look of seriousness on his face that Eddie has rarely seen before. His voice is low, but the weight behind it’s undeniable. “I know you love him. So, just show him he has other options. Buck deserves better than that asshole.”

“Don’t worry, Rav. I’m already on it.” Eddie breathes out, the sound tight and rough. Then, he claps him gently on the shoulder, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the fire still simmering inside of him. “And you should really marry Allison. I think she’s a catch.”

“Already on it.” Ravi winks at him and almost makes Eddie laugh. Almost.

The next day, Eddie makes good on his silent promise and brings Buck his sad-days coffee to cheer him up at work because he knows it’s going to be bad. He has the proof right in front of him when Buck barely accepts the drink, dark circle under his eyes, exhaustion radiating off him in waves.

He doesn’t once mention One Piece with any of them – he barely speaks all day unless it’s about work. Eddie feels enraged, and wants to tear something apart, but swallows it down, channelling that fury into stubborn care. He takes it as his mission to make it better, to put the light back right where it belongs.

So, he annoys him as much as possible in between calls, prodding and teasing, asking him stuff about One Piece he doesn’t even understand but somehow remembers from Buck’s endless rambling just to get him out of his shell.

At first Buck’s replies are curt, clipped, like he’s trying to pull words through a quicksand. Little by little, though, Eddie gently breaks the shell into cracks, like a sculptor chipping away chunks of material from his stone block to reveal the true form of his masterpiece hidden inside.

By the end of their 48-hour shift, Buck looks a little more like himself and seems more inclined to engage him without stopping himself in his tracks to censure his own babbling and retreat into his shell. His shoulders lift, the tone in his voce’s lightens and his eyes shines again. They’re sleepy but sparkling with excitement as he explains him in full detail a new theory he recently found on Reddit, hands gesturing wildly, and freer.

Eddie sits there, listening, a content smile on his lips, watching his muse with the adoration of a poet who can’t bear to look away, can’t stop writing poems about them like he’s running out of time, day and night, knowing that he’ll probably never find mortal words that would do them justice.

Later that day at home, over dinner with Chris, his plan begins to form.

“I think it’d be fun.” Eddie says, trying to sound casual, though his cheeks slightly redden and his heart races ahead. “Like, we could do a One Piece night and watch it together!”

“You’ve really got it bad for Buck, Dad.” Chris looks at him with a knowing grin that’s far too grown for his age, voice teasing but kind.

“What?” Eddie’s fork pauses mid-air, startled by the comment.

“I’m happy though.” Chris continues, his grin stretching wider. “I want him to be my other dad. Like, officially.”

Eddie almost chokes. His throat tightens, eyes stinging, and he clears his voice to disguise the emotion clawing up his chest. He doesn’t expect any less from his wonderful son. He knows how much he adores Buck, but hearing it said it out loud, hearing that his son wants the same thing as he does, makes him elated, heart beating faster, and happier.

“You–” Eddie clears his voice, swallowing hard. “How do you know–”

“Dad, I’ve known you’re in love with him since I was like eight years old. It’s okay if you like men, I only care about you being happy.” Chris holds his hand steadily, reassurance in his bright eyes. He looks like he’s about to shed a few tears too, and Eddie can’t really hold his anymore. Acceptance from his son tastes both sweet and salty on his tongue. “Buck always felt like a second parent to me. He’s home. I want us to be a family.”

“Thank you.” Eddie sniffles, trying to hold back the sobs of joy threatening to come out, and stands up to go and hug his son who squeezes him back just as tight. “So, is that a yes?”

“What do you think, Dad?”

With Chris’ happy laugh wrapping him in a soft, warm blanket, Eddie pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts Buck about Chris wanting to have a special movie night.

Hours later, when he shows up at his door with pizza from their favourite restaurant, sporting a beam on his lips so wide it almost splits his face, Eddie feels like Buck is holding his entire universe in the palm of his hands. He wants him so much that Eddie feels his nervous system spike with electricity.

Then, after eating, they end up on the couch, tangled up together as always with Chris wedged between them, and when Eddie plays the first episode of One Piece from Netflix, Buck’s so shocked he grabs the remote and presses pause with trembling fingers.

“What’s happening?” His voice slightly cracks, thin and uncertain, like a thread about to snap.

“You’ve been talking about it so much lately, I got curios.” Chris shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions, tone casual, smile hopeful. “I’m sorry if we didn’t ask first. I thought you might be up for a rewatch.”

Buck’s gaze flickers toward Eddie, searching, as though the ground might disappear beneath his feet if he doesn’t find the right answer in Eddie’s eyes. Whatever he sees there must be good because his shoulders sags with relief, releasing a small sigh, and his lips curl into a smile so bright it nearly blinds Eddie.

“Of course. Let’s start, then.”

Relief blooms in Eddie’s chest, warm and steady, like the first rays of dawn melting away frost. A heavy weight lifts from his shoulders – Eddie sees it in the way the tension leaves Buck’s body, in the dimple blinking back at him as they start up another episode. He hears it in the sound of his laugh, bright and unguarded, so carefree that Eddie feels it reverberate in his bones, like a prayer has finally been answered. He thinks Buck should always be this happy.

From that night on, the One Piece movie night becomes a sort of tradition. Eddie and Chris start enjoying it as much as Buck, who looks radiant, bouncing with eagerness whenever he and Chris dive into long debates about each arcs they go through. He looks right sitting on their couch, stealing snacks from the bowl in Eddie’s lap and letting Chris settle all over him without complaint, like it’s natural.

Buck looks so comfortable, so engrained in their dynamic, so deeply intertwined in their story, that it feels like he’s always been part of their life, like it’s written in the stars that he belongs to them in every existing universe, because there’s no world, no wrinkle in time, where Buck isn’t part of their family.

It stings Eddie, in a bittersweet way that’s both beautiful and devastating, like hurting himself while plucking a rose among thorns – because it feels like a glimpse into a future he desperately wants but doesn’t know if he’ll ever reach.

One night, after Chris has fallen asleep in his bedroom and Buck snores softly on the couch, Eddie opens his laptop with a mug of coffee beside him on the kitchen table and types best gift for One Piece fans into the search bar.

He’s quickly overwhelmed by the avalanche of results – a sea of colours, characters, and merch he can’t quite navigate. There’s too much, too many choices, and he doesn’t even know where to start. The cursor blinks at him, impatient, while Eddie sits there, fingers hovering, not trusting himself to get it right.

So, he texts Allison. Honestly, it feels like she’s the right person for the job – she and Buck have been texting so frequently lately about nerd stuff that she’s practically his translator at this point. She can provide him with a good advice and save him from falling into a rabbit hole of things he’s still trying to grasp.

She replies instantly – at 3 am, seriously? Does she have trouble sleeping? – with a string of detailed suggestions on what to buy for Buck and a link to her favourite shop.

So, Eddie places an order: a Luffy Gear Five action figure – whatever that means, he and Chris haven’t reached that part yet – and Funko Pops of the Straw Hat crew pre-time skip, including the crying Nami with the straw hat on her head and the bleeding Zoro with his arms crossed.

He remembers Buck mentioning how those moments were some of his favourites in the story. Eddie also remembers how he held Buck tight the whole time Nami cried on screen for everything she had lost and all she’d found, Chris passing along tissues and patting his thigh holding back tears of his own.

He perfectly recalls too the way Buck’s breath hitched, clutching his hand under the blanket, as Zoro sacrificed himself for his captain, claiming that nothing happened in front of everyone. Eddie had felt it in bones then – how much he understood Zoro’s devotion to Luffy because he’d do the same for Buck without even blinking.

Eddie would do anything for him, even bleed. He’d give up his place in Heaven, trade Elysium for Tartarus just to see him smile for a single fraction of second. He’d sentence himself to an endless afterlife of torture and flames if it meant he could get lost into the sweet, infinite sea of his blue eyes once again.

Eddie also adds a set of mug shaped like the hats of Luffy, Ace and Sabo to use at home. A sort of family set – because that’s what they are, no matter the shape his and Buck’s love takes. He knows his bank account is going to suffer a little, but the bright smile that spreads on Buck’s face when Eddie and Chris give him the gifts is definitely worth every single cent.

It takes a few days for Buck to notice the mugs. Eddie doesn’t point them out because he wants them to be a quieter surprise. So, one morning, while making breakfast, Eddie sets them on the table, filling them with their usual coffee and milk.

Chris instantly calls dibs on the Sabo one as Buck turns around, setting down a plate stacked high with hot, golden pancakes, only to freeze, eyes locking on the mugs.

“Oh.” His voice comes out soft, slightly cracking on the edges, and his eyes turn suspiciously glassy.

“This one’s yours.” Chris pushes the straw hat mug toward him with a huge smile. “Let’s eat now! I don’t want to be late for school.”

“Right.” Buck swallows hard, biting down his lips.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s eat.” Eddie places a soft kiss on his temple, letting the endearment slip before he can stop it – or maybe he doesn’t even try to. Then, he sits down and follows his son’s lead in stuffing pancakes into his mouth to hide the little blush adorning his cheeks, ignoring Chris amused glance.

Later, after dropping Chris off at school, Eddie comes home to find Buck still waiting for him. He doesn’t even let him shut the door before wrapping him in a crushing hug, clinging so tightly that Eddie can’t tell where his body ends and where Buck’s begins.

Buck trembles in his arms, soft sobs muffled against the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie cradles his curls with one steady hand, the other arm locked firmly around his waist.

“Thanks.” Buck whispers.

“For what?”

Buck doesn’t reply. He just squeezes harder, as if trying to merge into him, and Eddie knows deep down that Buck is thanking him for loving him. And Eddie seethes because it’s achingly unfair that Buck thinks of himself so undeserving of love that he feels the urge of thanking someone for doing what should only be natural. It doesn’t sit right with him, and his will of showing Buck how much he cares increases exponentially.

From then on, things start escalating – little by little, without Eddie meaning them to.

His resolve hardens each time he sees the deep sadness lurking at the corner of Buck’s mouth when his boyfriend ignores him, every time he catches the tears staining the fabric of Buck’s pillow late at night when he thinks no one can hear him.

He wants to show Buck that he can be a better boyfriend than Tommy, that someone could love him entirely, and stay without expecting nothing in exchange. So, Eddie decides to make a lasting impression on his best friend, something that will show him even more how committed Eddie feels.

It doesn’t take long to find an answer.

Days later, Eddie finally gets the chance to sit down after a strenuous call, limbs humming with exhaustion, and eyes dark with a tension that reaches every aching part of his body, sharply latching on his already stiff muscles. He’s clasping a mug of steamy black tea that Bobby prepared for his team right after they got back to the station.

Fall in Los Angeles isn’t usually this hostile, but today it’s bitingly chilling outside – the kind of cold that slips under the skin, and sinks deep into the bones, and lingers even after a scorching shower.

Eddie’s slightly shivering, fingers still a little numb as they curl around the burning ceramic of his mug. He tucks himself deeper into the warm, oversized sweater he stole from Buck’s locker, curling up on the couch, and exhales slowly.

Across the room, Bobby and Hen are quietly discussing over some paperwork at the table while Chim and Ravi wage war in Mario Kart on the console they have at the station, cursing under their breaths whenever one overtakes the other. The loft whirrs with domestic chaos, familiar, and comforting.

This moment feels like a pause, a quiet suspension engraved into the wrinkles of time that doesn’t happen so often. Eddie tries his best to enjoy the stilling calm anticipating the storm, holding these little fragments of peace close to his heart, these rare, fleeting moments that burn like embers, leaving a warm, tender afterglow, in which he soaks while the rest of the world freezes outside.

The door creaks open, and Buck stumbles into the loft, looking like a lost puppy, carrying a huge, soft beige blanket. His eyes sweep the room for a couple of seconds before landing on Eddie, a flicker of hesitation passing through in his face. Then, he shuffles forward with resolve, and plops down next to him.

In one smooth motion, he drapes the blanket over their bodies and gently nudges Eddie’s hands holding the mug, wordlessly bullying him into putting it down on the nearby coffee table so he can press up against him. Eddie’s arms automatically wrap around him, bodies slotting together with the same ease of two puzzle pieces, like it happened hundred times before, and Buck sighs, content.

Eddie stiffens for a beat, stunned – Buck likes to clings, yes, but usually doesn’t snuggle up to Eddie like this in front of the whole team. And yet he doesn’t dare to pull away. Instead, he shifts them to find a more comfortable position as Buck hides his face in the crook of his neck.

Burning heat radiates off Buck’s body like a furnace, chasing away every shiver of cold from his body, turning Eddie into a puddle of warmth, love, and devotion. He doesn’t realise everyone is watching them until he glances up from the cute, sleepy octopus Buck clinging to him for dear life and finds four pairs of eyebrows raised at him. Ravi and Chim even paused the game, puzzled, controllers forgotten on their laps.

Eddie shrugs, unbothered, and settles further into the embrace, fingers instinctively finding Buck’s curls like they were made exactly for this.

“Buckaroo, are you alright?” Hen asks, amusement seeping in her voice.

“’m tired and cold.” Buck slurs, stifling a yawn into Eddie’s chest, words muffled. “Let me sleep.”

And just like that, everyone resumes what they were doing, as if nothing happened – though Eddie catches Hen’s grin as she returns to the paperwork.

He distractedly strokes Buck’s hair, fingers combing through soft curls, trying not to stare too much, even if his eyes are helplessly drawn to him – like gravity on Earth, or the moon’s pull on tides. He’s biting down the inside of his cheek to keep his feelings locked inside, dangerous words sitting heavy on the tip of his tongue.

Electricity whizzes through his nervous system like in a high voltage cable, every inch of him sparkling with anticipation. In his mind there’s a steel-core E string of an old violin, so thin and stretched out that it looks ready to snap at the smallest increase of tension, wearied and overused, like it’s only a matter of time.

Eddie attempts to preserve it a little more, loosening its ends, to avoid blurting out words about how none of this feels platonic. Not with the way Buck curls into him, not with how Eddie keeps him close to his chest, like the world could shatter and this is the only thing that matters. It’s probably a little out of place for someone who’s supposedly in a relationship, but right now, Eddie couldn’t care less about shoulds.

A while later, conversation picks up again, casual and easy. Ravi and Chim abandon their game to perch on the couch beside them, reclaiming half of the blanket and sipping their own tea. Buck grumbles sleepily at the tug of fabric, but doesn’t protest, still folded into his side, purring like a kitty at every gentle stroke of Eddie’s hand on his back.

Hen shoots him a look that screams just tell him already it’s getting ridiculous, while Bobby seems utterly done with their antics, fingers typing slowly on the phone, probably texting with his wife.

“She’s always so good with gifts, I just want to give her something nice.” Ravi sighs, frustrated, and looks at everyone with pleading eyes. “Last time she showed up with this vintage camera I’ve been looking for ages. I need help.”

“You know her better than anyone.” Chim stretches his arms, moving his neck side to side, trying to find the right spot to pop the joints there. “I’m sure there’s something Allison really wants. Think harder.”

“Thanks, Chim. Think harder. Great advice.” Ravi rolls his eyes and Chim grins at him, smugly. “I need real help, please.”

“Karen is always happy when I take somewhere nice.” Hen suggests, thoughtful, stirring her tea.

“Yeah, probie. You should just take Al to a convention, or something.” Buck mumbles against Eddie’s shirt, voice rough and drowsy, not even bothering to lift his head.

“You realize I haven’t been a probie in years, right?” Ravi retorts, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll always be my probie. It’s a term of endearment.” Buck pauses, then turns his head to flash him an amused look, cheek rubbing against Eddie’s chest, who chuckles openly at the light banter, hand busy playing with Buck’s hair.

“Why don’t you bring her flowers?” Bobby cuts in, looking up from his phone with a tender expression on his face. “Athena loves them.”

“I think it could work.” Buck agrees, voice a soft hum against Eddie’s sternum. “No one ever bought me flowers, but I’d be over the moon if someone did.”

Eddie freezes, his hand faltering mid-stroke in Buck’s hair, and for a heartbeat, everything inside of him stops.

Anyone who knows Buck even a little is aware of his passion for flowers. He knows by heart all the meanings and related lore behind every single existing flower, how to care for them with the accuracy of a botanist.

He even created a sort of little garden on his loft’s balcony full of colourful flowers, and green, sweet-smelling plants he even uses for his recipes – like the basil he puts into his Italian tomato sauce, or the parsley he spreads over his delicious chicken with mashed potatoes he always prepares when Eddie has dinner at his place.

So, Eddie wonders how it is even possible that in a whole year of relationship Tommy never thought to buy his boyfriend flowers. Something so simple, and yet so intimate – a sweet, tender gesture Buck did hundreds of times for all his partners at least once.

Eddie can’t really wrap his mind around the fact that none of Buck’s partners ever thought about doing something so simple like bringing him flowers to make him happy. He feels anger boiling over in his chest and takes a deep breath through his nose to calm himself down.

“What?” Hen asks, glancing at Buck with open disbelief. “No one? Not even Tommy?”

“He thinks they’re useless.” Buck shrugs, borrowing deeper into his best friend’s embrace, like he’s trying to disappear into the rhythm of Eddie’s heartbeat.

“But you like them.” Ravi says, looking as affronted as Eddie feels.

“It’s fine.”

Except it isn’t. Not at all.

Eddie knows Buck too well – the way he swallows his disappointment, pretending indifference. He sees the flicker in those ocean eyes, the tremor in his jaw as he chews at his bottom lip until it bleeds. Buck turns his head to retreat behind his wall, forehead pressed on Eddie’s chest, as if their embrace can soothe the heartbreak, and conceal the way his face falls at the reminder that he’s boyfriend never treats him right.

Eddie smooths a hand over the back of Buck’s neck, gentle and steady, whispering a silent promise with lips pressed on his curls. If Buck has never received flowers once in his life, Eddie’s going to drown him in them, as if it were the last thing he ever did.

The next morning, he wakes up earlier than usual. As he drives his son to school, he pulls over in front of the lively flower shop he’s passed countless times before but never entered.

Chris insists on coming inside – the night before his son had caught him red-handed, researching flowers meanings on his laptop, and hasn’t stopped teasing him about it since. Still, beneath the amusement, Eddie knows Chris genuinely wants to help him because he loves making Buck happy just like his father.

The shop smells of rain and earth, and the old lady behind the counter is sweet and has a gentle, perceptive smile on her lips. She watches him fidgeting with his car keys, and tripping over his words, with softness, and understanding in her eyes, as though she’s already pieced together the reason for his visit.

He must look a little lost, and quite ridiculous – a grown man getting all jittery and embarrassed over buying flowers is tragically comic. Eddie feels incredibly stupid, but proud altogether as Chris stops his poor, humiliating explanation and takes over, as though he were the responsible adult in the room.

Dolores, as her name tag reads, just nods, and shares a conspiratorial smile with Chris before disappearing into the back of the shop. She returns after a while with a bouquet of sunflowers – bright, golden, steady – tied together with a deep blue ribbon that resembles the shade of Buck’s eyes.

It isn’t large, but it’s beautiful and Eddie likes how it reminds him of his best friend because to him, Buck has always been happiness, delight and warmth, just like these flowers.

He is the personification of the sun – strong, stunning, emanating a light so bright and endless that people can’t help but shield their eyes not to be blinded by him. But Eddie? Eddie would rather let his eyes burn, go completely blind, than turn away.

And if Buck is the sun, his compass guiding him home, Eddie is a sunflower basking into his light, avidly following his every movement not to lose sight of him, loyal, addicted to the heat that seeps into his limbs, skin to bone.

Eddie feels like Icarus, so enamoured of its heat, so drunk on the beauty of the flames, that he’d let his wings burn to ash just be close enough to him.

Eddie is Clizia, steady in her desperation, unable to keep her eyes off the sun. She stared at him for ages, until she planted roots into the earth with the love that she would never get, yet would always cherish, giving life to it, letting it grow into a beautiful, sturdy flower.

He’s like Persephone catching the firsts glimpses of spring light after months of living in the shadows, aching for a warmth that would never belong completely to her.

Eddie has known that darkness personally. He’s seen war, felt the icy fingers of death clutching his soul, leaving behind scars that will never entirely heal. He’s endured months of unforgiving guilt tearing him apart, alone, barely holding himself together.

He survived endless nights surrounded by loud, frantic noise, and horrible screams of agony that kept him awake for hours until exhaustion inevitably took over, overwhelmed by a freezing cold – that icy, horrible kind that oozes deep inside in your bones and doesn’t leave, no matter how hard you try.

He should despise the noise, loathe anything that’s warm and bright because he’s always deemed himself unworthy of happiness in its every declination.

And yet every time Buck’s laughter bursts across a room, Eddie feels like he’s hearing music for the first time and his heart doesn’t look back in anger but soars high and free into the clear sky. Each time Buck grasps his shoulders, snuggles into him like he can’t get enough of his arms, holds his hand tight, as though Eddie’s hands were his anchor keeping him from drowning, the warmth spreading into every atom of his body makes the cold disappear like it’s never been there.

Every single time Buck’s face light up, the darkness inside of him dissipates until he can’t even notice the shadows anymore. Eddie welcomes the loudness, the heat, the glow radiating off Buck and relishes into it, forgetting about all his demons for a while.

Eddie thinks sunflowers are the perfect choice. Not only because they’re Buck’s favourite, but also for what they represent. They’re radiance, joy, everything Eddie longs for and cannot look away from, no matter how much staying close burns.

And maybe his heart is hoping Buck will realise what Eddie is trying to say without words.

The old lady tells him that usually people gift sunflowers for celebrations, but also to mark new beginnings. Somehow, with his heart clutched in a painful hold, Eddie dares to hope for a second that this can be theirs. Still, uncertainty claws at his stomach, sharp and persistent, like a wicked whisper reminding him that good things never stay for him.

Sometimes Buck looks at him with something that feels like more than friendship – a flash of light passing in his eyes like a lightning bolt during a heavy rainstorm, brief but electrifying, or a gentler moonlight reflecting on the ocean in his eyes.

But Eddie can’t indulge into the hope blooming in his chest, not when he’s spent so long convinced he isn’t worthy of someone like Buck – someone made of sunlight, and everything that’s pure and kind.

Eddie is nothing if not determined though, especially when it comes to his best friend. Once he makes up his mind, nothing can shake it. Buck deserves to be appreciated and shown how precious he is. He deserves joy, flowers, and everything in between – a love that heals even when things get hard.

That’s why, when Eddie walks into the station later that morning with flowers in hand and a calm smile on his lips, he feels almost confident. The station is buzzing with the usual laid-back mood that lingers at the start of another shift – the smell of coffee and grease, the distant hum of showers, the echo of hushed conversations bouncing off the walls.

Hen and Chim are talking near the rig, voices overlapping in an animated conversation, and Ravi is checking the truck, earbuds in, quietly humming along to something that looks suspiciously like Katy Perry’s California Girls.

They all freeze at first, faces swinging toward him with matching expressions of shock, gaping like they’ve just seen a ghost. Eddie doesn’t stop to explain, just flashes them a grin and keeps walking, stride steady, pulse loud in his ears, until he reaches the kitchen doorway.

Inside, Buck is at the stove helping Bobby with breakfast.

Eddie pauses, leaning against the doorframe, fondly watching him, a lovesick expression on his face he doesn’t even bother to hide anymore.

Buck is laughing at something Bobby has just said, stirring pancake batter with practiced movements. His sleeves are rolled to his elbows and the black apron tied around his waist – the silly one with firemen never let dinner burn stitched across the middle – sports white speckles of flour that match the ones on his nose and cheeks.

Eddie loves that Buck always makes a mess whenever he gets near the kitchen despite being an amazing cook. It’s adorable and so, so endearing that it makes Eddie want to just lean in and bite him to taste the flour off his cheek. It’s helpless, really.

Bobby notices him first. He raises an eyebrow at him, eyes dropping to the bouquet, and flicking back up to Eddie as the confusion on his face melts into realization. His lips twitch like he’s fighting to hide a knowing grin.

“So, Bobby, do you want to be the one doing the honour?” Buck asks, holding the bowl with the batter in his arms as he tilts his head towards him, oblivious.

“Sure.” Bobby replies, voice calm but amused, as he takes the bowl from his hands and lightly bumps Buck’s hip with his own. “I think there’s someone here who wants your attention.”

Buck turns, perplexed, and his jaw drops the instant his gaze lands on Eddie – standing there with sunflowers in hand and a shy smile tugging at his chapped lips. Eddie takes a few steps forward and gives him the bouquet, motion steady, though his cheeks have taken on a soft pink hue, betraying his calm demeanour.

Chim, Hen and Ravi are watching through the glass doors with bated breaths, as if they’ve stumbled into the climax of a cheesy rom-con. Hen whispers something that makes both Chim and Ravi snort, but Eddie doesn’t even hear them, too focused on Buck to think about anything else.

“What’s this?” Buck is staring at him with bewilderment, eyes wide and breath stuttering as he takes the flowers from him with hesitant hands.

“You said no one ever brought you flowers.” Eddie shrugs, ignoring the heart painfully hammering in his chest. “I just thought you deserved them.”

“Oh.” Buck’s lips immediately stretch into a shy smile, soft, and immensely bright. His blue eyes glimmer like diamonds, as if he can’t quite believe what has just happened. “I…thank you. I love them. Sunflowers are –”

“Your favourite. I know.” Eddie softly interrupts him, mesmerized by the way Buck cannot seem to look away from the bouquet, thumb grazing one of the petals with reverence. Eddie is certain he made the best choice he could. And what everyone doesn’t know is that he’s just getting started.

“You didn’t have to.” Buck’s eyes dart to him for a moment, the smallest tremor in his voice filled with emotion. “But I appreciate it.”

“Good.” Eddie says, voice dipping low, intimate. “You deserve only nice things.”

A couple of days later, Eddie does the same thing. He stops at the flower shop with Chris before dropping him off at school and buys a bouquet – this time a bunch of pink and blue hydrangeas, soft clouds of petals that symbolize love and gratitude.

They’re as pretty as Buck is, delicate yet vibrant, and Eddie hopes that they’ll convey everything he can’t say aloud – how thankful he is for everything Buck does for him and his son, how deeply he cherishes all his little things that Eddie adores, from the way his face grimace when he tastes something bitter, to the way he laughs, loud and unapologetic, his whole body vibrating with the harmony of the sound escaping his lips.

This time he leaves them in Buck’s locker, a note tucked between the stems saying Thank you, scribbled with his messy handwriting, ink smudged at the corner from where his thumb accidentally brushed the fresh ink.

He doesn’t get to see his reaction, but later, as they say goodbye to each other after work, Eddie catches him leaving with the bouquet clutched to his chest. Buck’s smile is tender, private, a flicker of brightness softening the lines of his face and Eddie immediately understands without asking that he loved them.

Besides, Buck knows everything about flowers and their meaning, so Eddie is sure that he’s getting all his messages clear and loud, even if they don’t mention anything to each other.

Then it’s red and white alstroemerias, blossoms streaked like gentle brushstrokes on a panting, which stand for mutual support, love, and devotion. It’s his silent way of reminding Buck that they’ll always have each other’s back – an unspoken vow that Eddie’s loyalty is never going to falter.

Dolores explains how the twisted leaves and each of the six petals hold different connotations – they mean stability and commitment, but also understanding and overcoming struggles together. A way to tell Buck that Eddie won’t go anywhere, that he’s in for the long run, no matter what.

His love is solid and warm. It’s enormous and ever-expanding, just like the universe itself – vast, endless, and yet never uncertain.

Eddie hands them to Buck as soon as he shows up for movie night. Buck stops dead in his tracks, swallowing loudly, and brings them close to his chest, cradling them like something fragile. He leans down to smell them, breathing in their sweet, nostalgic fragrance and bites down his lip, as if he’s trying to contain the overwhelming joy threatening to spill over the dam.

But Eddie sees it anyway – because Buck always wears his heart on his sleeves and his blue eyes shines with so much brightness Eddie almost must squint his eyes to keep looking. It’s easy to bask into his warm joy, heart beating faster, elated, knowing he’s the one making him this happy with such a simple gesture.

He could live a thousand lifetimes and still never tire of Buck’s unguarded happiness softening his features, making his eyes glimmer like the moonlight reflecting on the weaves of the ocean at night.

And so, he does it again. And again. Too addicted to Buck’s blinding smile, to the way his whole face lights up with delight and his fingers slightly shake as he accepts the flowers each time with a new, different emotion hidden behind his beautiful ocean eyes.

One night, with Chris away at a sleepover, Eddie decides to show up unannounced at Buck’s door with a bouquet of red carnations in one hand – love and affection – and a bag of take out from their usual Chinese restaurant in the other.

When Buck opens the door, he looks startled, blinking, evidently not expecting anyone. He’s wearing the oversized pink sweater Eddie loves so much because it makes him look cute, huggable, and impossibly endearing.

His red-rimmed eyes are still glassy, betraying that it’s not long since he’s stopped crying, and Eddie’s chest constricts with worry. His first instinct is to reach out, to smooth his thumb under those trembling lashes, to press his palm against the soft curve of Buck’s cheek still a little damp with tears and kiss away every fresh one streaming down.

But the small, hesitant smile tugging Buck’s lips as soon as he notices the flowers makes his skin tingle with the familiar warm fuzzy feeling.

Inside, Eddie can’t help but notice that Buck’s loft looks ready to open a flower shop. More than the usual, anyway. Every single bouquet Eddie’s given him is scattered across different vases sparse around the apartment, their colours and shapes brightening every corner – hydrangeas glowing like clouds in the centre of the kitchen table, alstroemerias curling delicate near the shelves, tulips bright and pretty sitting by the window.

Buck places the carnations right next to the sunflowers – still sturdy and full of life, their yellow heads turned toward the window like they’re waiting for the morning to arrive to reprise their prayers to the sun giving them life.

He brushes his fingers along the red petals of the carnations and exhales, as though the gesture has eased a little of the weight on his shoulders.

“If you keep this up, I might start thinking you’re trying to woo me.” Buck lets out a chuckle as he starts setting the table to eat their take-out, voice carrying a hint of warmth.

“Well, maybe I am.” Eddie stares at him, an easy smile on his lips.

His best friend stills mid-motion and snaps his head up to look at him, mouth falling open, and cheeks flushed. For a fleeting moment, the air between them charges with static, electrifying, and it feels so brittle that even the flowers surrounding them look like they’re holding their breath.

Eddie hides a smirk and decides to deflect the attention onto another pressing matter. It isn’t time yet to be blunt, not when Buck is so naturally oblivious and so heartbreakingly insecure. Eddie will have to take clearer steps if he wants Buck to truly believe him. For now, though, making him feel better when he’s evidently upset matters more than the truth stinging at the back of his tongue.

“Why were you crying?” he asks, voice filled with concern.

“I– just–“ Buck fumbles, clearing his throat. He hesitates, voice uneven. “Tommy didn’t like the flowers. He said some stuff I didn’t like and I– well I told him it’s not normal that my best friend feels more of a boyfriend than him and he should do nice things for me sometimes, like giving me flowers. And he–“

Buck cuts himself off abruptly, eyes fixed on the food boxes he’s taking out from the plastic bag, hands fumbling, like he’s not sure he can bear to say it aloud.

“What did he say?” Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the counter. His tone is gentle, and his gaze soft, but fury churns hot in his veins – Tommy is an asshole and shouldn’t make Buck cry as often as he does.

Eddie forces his jaw to relax, trying to ignore the anger, and the secret thrill beneath it – a dangerous one that shouldn’t be there now, but that feels also inevitable with the way Buck compared him to his boyfriend, implying that maybe his best friend isn’t entirely oblivious when it comes to the two of them.

“I don’t know if I should–“

“Buck.” Eddie takes a few steps closer until there’s only a little breath left between their bodies. Confident by what he’s just heard, he brushes a hand along the side of Buck’s face and tilts his chin up so their eyes can meet. Buck looks small and nervous, eyelashes clumped with unshed tears. A few of them slip down, and Eddie uses his thumb to gently wipe them away. “You can tell me anything.”

“He told me that if you’re really that better than he is, then I should date you and he–” Buck swallows, teeth grazing his lower lip, trying to hold back a sob. “He said that I’m so needy and exhausting that he’s not even sure that you’d be willing to put up with me.”

Hot, boiling fury ignites every particle of Eddie’s body. His hands tremble and he must close his eyes and force himself to take a full, deep breath so he doesn’t punch the wall. How dare he? How dare Tommy to say something this awful to Buck – to this boy made of light, and constellations whose heart is too pure, and soft for the cruelty of the world.

Then a twinge of guilt crawls under his skin like poison – his mind flashing to a time he himself called Buck exhausting during one of their worst fights that left them hollow and shattered. It’s something that still haunts them both, a mistake Eddie never stopped regretting because he deeply hurt his best friend, so much that Buck still flinches at the sound of it.

Since then, Eddie has been trying his hardest to make up to him because he didn’t mean it. Buck is not exhausting – has never been. But he knows how this word still sinks into him, dragging him under, in the deepest abyss of the sea. He sees how it takes him to a place of hurt and rotten thoughts, where ghosts of old wounds chase after him and make him believe he’s complete darkness.

But he’s not. Buck might even have shadows and demons poisoning his mind, but he’s also a being of pure, iridescent light. He’s a divine chaos, a complicated human being with cracks in his vessel, and beauty in his soul.

Eddie loves all of him – the light stained with darkness and the scars on his beautiful. He embraces both the angels, and demons inside of him and always will.

He wants to shout because Buck doesn’t deserve having that word thrown at him again from a person who should love him senseless. He’d like to find Tommy and tell him he doesn’t deserve to even speak Buck’s name because to hurt Buck is a blasphemy, a sin that not even the flames burning the depths of hell can atone.

“What a fucking dick.” Eddie mutters, cradling his best friend’s face with both of his hands still shivering, thumbs tracing his jaw. “Sweetheart, you’re not needy. He’s the one who doesn’t know how to care for someone properly. And you could never be exhausting. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life– to have you love them.”

“Eds, I’m a mess. He’s right.” Buck’s tears are falling down his cheeks copiously now and Eddie’s stomach coils tighter with the need to make it better. “I’m–“

“No. You’re amazing. And Tommy is wrong about me, too. I’d be so lucky to date you, Buck, you have no idea.” Eddie gently interrupts him, voice faltering, vulnerable. “I’m just– I’m not sorry for giving you flowers because I saw how they make you happy and I that’s all I want. But I’m sorry if it made you argue with–“

“No!” Buck shakes his head vehemently, hands flying up to cover Eddie’s, pressing them tight against his face. “It’s not your fault. What you– Eds, it’s everything. You make me happy. It’s just that Tommy– he– it’s so hard.”

Eddie swallows. He wants to tell him then and there that if he’s really the one making him happy, then Buck should just break up with that excuse of a boyfriend and be with him. But he doesn’t think it’s the right moment.

Buck is clearly so overwhelmed by the situation that what he needs right now it’s just a distraction. He needs calm not something that might make him feel worse because Eddie’s not even sure Buck wants him the same way yet. So, feelings will have to wait. Eddie’s priority now is to make him feel better.

“You too.” Eddie presses his lips to his temple as Buck collapses into him with a broken sound, weeping, clutching Eddie’s shirt with his fists. Eddie’s arms wrap his waist in a firm, sheltering embrace meant to heal. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Let it out. I’ve got you.”

They stay like that for a while, the food forgotten on the counter, but neither of them seems to care. Buck trembles in his arms, sobbing quietly into the crook of his neck, heart thumping so loud that Eddie can hear it reverberating through him.

“Let’s get you on the couch for now, sweetheart. We’ll eat later. Is that alright?” Eddie mutters against his hair.

Buck nods weakly and as soon as Eddie guides him to the couch in the living room, he curls up, pressing himself against his side so that he can rest his head on his chest. Eddie immediately snugs into him, one hand drawing shapes on his back and the other firmly pressed on his hip, touching the warm skin left exposed by the slightly nudged up shirt.

He brushes his lips across his forehead, whispering reassurances and sweet nothings to soothe him.

Eventually, Buck’s sobs subside to quiet sniffles, cheeks blotchy and bleary eyes glancing at him with gratitude. Eddie gets the instant urge of kissing him as soon as their eyes lock, the kind of wild, reckless pull that wrecks him, heat scorching under his skin. But doesn’t indulge in it.

Instead, he leans down a little, nuzzling against the crown of his curls and breathes in the faint scent of coconut and clean soap that always lingers on him. Eddie promises him he’s not alone, a prayer muttered into the silence of the night. He’ll never be as long as Eddie is breathing.

Maybe Buck believes him because later, when they part, Buck thanks him, in that small, broken voice that always makes Eddie’s chest churn unpleasantly like a strong punch in the guts. Then, he kisses his cheek, lips lingering a heartbeat longer than they probably should. His hand clasps his shoulder, thumb pressing hard on his collarbone, like he doesn’t want to let him go.

Except he does.

Eddie drives home with a knot of worry lodged in his stomach, clammy palms clutching the steering wheel as his mind wanders, thinking about tomorrow. The weight of that fight will hover on Buck like a shadows for days, no matter how hard Eddie tries to comfort him.

And Buck, stubborn as always, will probably smile like nothing ever happened, indulging in his boyfriend’s empty attempts to make it up to him.

It's a pattern, a rhythm they’ve been trapped in for longer than Eddie would like to admit. Tommy fails, Buck gets hurt and Eddie steps in. Not out of pity – but out of love, a flame so hot and alive that no one would be able to extinguish. Because Buck deserves stability. He deserves to be seen, grounded, a kind of devotion that doesn’t take, but only gives.

Maybe Eddie is a fool for wanting to show him how good it can be to be loved right when there’s no guarantee Buck even loves him like that. But Eddie doesn’t care anymore. At this point, Buck could twist a knife in his heart and Eddie would gladly accept it with arms open wide and a lovesick smile on his lips.

He’d bleed out with no regrets, down on his knees, surrendering everything to him. Eddie would accept his fate like a martyr dying for his faith, or Desdemona who resigns to her fate and keeps her love intact even in death. The tragedy of it all doesn’t scare him – if the price of loving Buck is quiet happiness mixed with eternal suffering, he’ll pay it in full, gladly, without never regretting it.

So, in the following days, Eddie thinks about the next step of his plan – show Buck you are a better boyfriend than that smug asshole. He wants to come up with something bolder that won’t put him in a too difficult position or make him uncomfortable.

Eddie almost calls Maddie for advice – because she knows what he’s doing and she’s blunt enough to tell him he’ll just end up making a mess of things in the end – but before he can actually bring himself to do it, everything crumbles and the plan is long forgotten for a while.

It should’ve been an easy call, the kind of job that they’d tell stories about later over dinner at the station. It didn’t look like a disaster, and nothing pointed to tragedy. A sturdy, burning warehouse supposedly empty. Stable enough for a sweep to make sure no one was left inside.

Except they all realised a split second too late that it wasn’t safe. Not at all.

Eddie and Buck were checking the ground floor before everything went to hell.

“I think we’re all clear, Cap.” Buck speaks to his radio, voice steady despite the smoke rasping at his throat. “There’s only one room left.”

“Got it.” Bobby’s reply comes back, metallic, static grippling its edges. “Hurry up and get the hell out.”

The smoke makes it hard to see more than a few feet ahead, but Eddie manages to push the final door open. They quickly scan room, flashlights cutting through swirling grey haze. As predicted, they don’t find anyone.

“Let’s go.” Buck clasps his shoulder with a squeeze, a brief, grounding touch that says everything is going to be fine. “Or Bobby will have us clean the bathroom for a month. Again.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, a reply he’ll never dare to let out dancing on his tongue – “I’d clean the bathrooms for the rest of my miserable life if it means spending more time with you” – but then a deep, guttural sound of groaning metal cuts through, followed by a crack so loud it hurts Eddie’s eardrums, making his teeth rattle.

It happens too fast for either of them to realise. Eddie barely processes the ceiling sagging with a growl before something hard shoves him out of the way. White hot pain blasts through him as his body collides with the filthy concrete, head hitting the solid ground with an upsetting thud.

His mind becomes wobbly, vision blurring and lungs constricting. A loud, high, merciless ring drills into his skull and a horrible crack harmonises with it. Eddie tries to sit up, to push himself upright, but every movement feels like hundreds knives piercing his skin. An intense pang in his chest alerts him that he’s probably cracked his ribs. In this confused state, only one name slices through the fog like a flare in the night.

“Buck!” he manages to scramble back up, teeth clenching, voice tearing raw from his throat.

The pain is unbearable, but he doesn’t feel it anymore. Adrenaline runs high, breath shallow. Panic seeps through, churning his stomach as his eyes try to locate his best friend – his partner who has just pushed him out of the way, taking the blow for him.

He feels furious at himself for not acting faster, for not realising what was going on right away, for failing to protect him. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve noticed the signs. For God’s sake he’s trained to see them.

The air is thick with acrid smoke, scratching his throat raw at every gasp he takes. All around him the warehouse wheezes like a dying beast, coughing dust into the air and spitting out scorching flames like a dragon setting everything ablaze in its wake. Eddie feels the whole world crashing down, but his mind still clings to one, single thing: Buck.

He can’t think about any what ifs now. He can worry about that later. He coughs in the dust, screaming out his best friend’s name, dread coiling in his stomach, making him nauseous. His voice cracks under the pressure, rough with fear and all the smoke he inhaled. He feels like crying. He must find him.

Then, in the middle of his desperate search, a low moan catches his attention. It’s faint but slashes into the frantic chaos like a beacon of light leading his ship to safety through the darkness of the night.
Eddie’s head snaps towards that sound and his body moves before his brain can catch up.

He stumbles through fallen debris, moving them out of his way until he sees him – Buck’s long frame half-buried by wreckage, leg pinned under a heavy, unforgivable rubble. He drops to his knees, and tries to assess the situation, hands shivering with panic and urgency.

“Buck! I’m here.” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, eyes stinging not only from the smoke but from the tears threatening to spill.

Buck appears semi-conscious, lashes fluttering, blood streaking down his temple, scarlet mixing with the soot on his sweaty skin. His mouth works clumsily around words, mumbling nonsense between coughs, each breath rasping like shreds of sharp glass.

Eddie starts clawing through the debris, movements frantic but surprisingly efficient, pulling sharp pieces of rubble aside without bothering to protect his own skin. The scrape of stone splits his palms open and the pain in his chest howls loudly and excruciating, but he barely registers it.

It takes all his strength, all the adrenaline pumping his blood, to lift the slab pinning Buck’s leg, teeth clenching so hard that he tastes iron on his tongue, world spinning dangerously fast. Eventually he manages to shove it aside, grunting loud and rough.

“Eddie.” Buck’s hand shoots up, eyes a little glazed but frantic, and Eddie squeezes it tight, steady, grounding. “Eddie.”

“I’ve got you, baby. I’m here. It’s going to be alright.” Eddie’s voice breaks, soft, his restraints long gone. The slip up is the last thing on his mind at this moment.

The radio on his belt shrieks with static, Bobby’s voice distorted, attempting to contact them. Eddie grabs the walkie-talkie with his free hand and radios for backup, forcing himself to hold onto his last shred of lucidity even if every single part of his body is screaming in agony.

It doesn’t take long for their team to go in and save them. Hen is there first, eyes sharp and focused, reaching for Eddie to check on him but he shakes his head.

“Him first. I’ll be alright.”

Hen hesitates, gaze flickering over his cuts and bruises, before agreeing willingly, knowing better than to argue. Eddie might not be exactly fine, but he’s not the priority right now. Buck’s moans are heart-wrenching as Chim and Hen stabilise him with practiced precision before strapping him to the stretcher.

Ravi hooks an arm under Eddie, hauling him upright as Eddie leans heavily against him, pain exploding with each step. Dust swirls in the air around them, settling on the floor like ash falling in the wake of a battle and Eddie eyes don’t dare leaving Buck, like he’s afraid he’s going to disappear right in front of him.

What happens after is sort of a blur. The shrill sound of sirens split the night open, and the world wears a red and blue filter. Their team gets them to the hospital in a rush. Eddie feels exhausted, hollowed out, as a kind doctor checks him over. Luckily his injuries turn out not to be that serious.

Aside from smoke inhalation, he cracked a few ribs, his head is lightly concussed, and his shoulder sprained because of the impact. His face sports a couple of cuts, his palms getting the worst of it, but other than that he’s alright.

Buck, instead, got all the worse. He screamed in pain for the whole ride, trashing, panic clawing through the sedatives. He cried out Eddie’s name until his voice frayed. Eddie had to stay with him, fingers laced together, until he calmed down enough into slumber, sedatives kicking in. He was worried about Eddie. He was the one taking the worst and still worried about him.

Eddie is not ashamed to admit he’s been crying like an idiot for a solid hour as Buck goes through surgery for his leg and internal bleeding. The sterile hospital light makes his cracks sparkle, his vulnerability laid bare for the world to see. The strong smell of antiseptic causes his stomach to clench in an uncomfortable way, bile making its way up his sore throat.

Maddie is staying with him now, silently holding his hand with a calm expression on her face, steady through the devastation.

“Buck’s going to be fine.” She tells him, certainty underlining her tone. A sturdy rock standing against the harsh rapids of life. “You know that.”

“He pushed me out of the way, Mads.” Eddie sniffles, each breath splintering his cracked ribs with ache. None of this hurts as much as thinking about Buck lying unconscious on that table. “He could’ve– God he could’ve– and I didn’t even realise what was going on. It should’ve been me.”

“Look, if it was the other way around, I’m sure you would’ve done the same. You always watch each other’s back.” Maddie gently wipes his tears with her thumbs, glassy eyes softening. “It doesn’t matter if it’s romantic or whatever. He loves you, Eddie. He saved you because he wanted to. You can’t feel guilty about this.”

Eddie knows she’s right. Eddie would do anything for Buck. He’d take a bullet for him with eyes closed and a giant target painted on his chest. It’s always been like that, even before he realized his romantic feelings for him. It’s a promise they made to each other, the only one they would never willingly break.

He can’t help feeling like this, though. No matter how many times they’ve been through similar situations, Eddie will never get used to the dread paralyzing every muscle in his body, to the way his heart seems to be about to shatter with fear, to the desperation and the flood of scenarios ending in tragedy intoxicating his mind.

To Eddie, losing Buck would be like a losing a limb, like carving his own heart out of his chest. Buck is half of his soul, and he doesn’t want to live without it. Eddie loves him too much – he’d love him in other lifetimes, in different bodies, in any existing parallel universes.

He’ll love him until his last day on Earth, until the stars flicker out into oblivion and world collapses into silence. Eddie can’t let the fates cut Buck’s red thread of life before getting the chance to tell him, before they finally claim the happy ending that keeps glimmering just out of reach.

It’s too soon for that.

Eddie would follow Buck to the deepest parts of the underworld to bring him back, if necessary, tearing apart darkness with his bare hands, just like Orpheus did for his Eurydice. But he wouldn’t make any mistakes, wouldn’t look back, letting his own uncertainty betray him, forever dooming him to a lifetime of agony and despair. He’d make it right because he doesn’t want to live without him.

Eddie is just tired of watching the universe trying to take Buck away from him, like they’re some sort of star-crossed lovers fated to miss each other in every lifetime and never end up together.

Please, stop trying to take him away from me.

“I love him, Mads. I can’t–“ his words fracture, tripping on his tongue, a sob trapped in his chest.

“I know.” Maddie grips his hand tighter. “And we won’t lose him.”

“Mr. Diaz.” A doctor peeks out the door after softly knocking. Her eyes are tired, but she has a little smile on her lips. “I wanted to let you know that the surgery went well. Your husband is sleeping now. You can stay with him if you want.”

“Please.”

Neither of them even blinks or corrects the doctor as she refers to Buck as Eddie’s husband. Eddie doesn’t even realise it at first, too numb with the relief that comes from knowing Buck is going to be alright. Only later when Maddie smirks knowingly at him, does the meaning land, cheeks flushing crimson.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.” She tilts her head, the epitome of fake innocence on her face, reminding him of little Jee when her uncle Buck asks her if she ate the cookie dough they were making while he wasn’t watching.

Eddie is drained, everything aches, the plastic of the chair painfully digs into his back like punishment, but his eyes stay locked on Buck’s sleeping form. He’s squeezing his hand, gently, as though it were his saving grace.

From time to time, he lifts Buck’s knuckles to his lips, placing soft kisses on the skin, grounding himself, just to remind his heart still clenched in anxiety that Buck’s warm, alive, and breathing. He didn’t lose him.

Eddie, ever so gently, presses his chapped lips on Buck’s pulse point to give himself an ulterior proof that Buck’s heart is beating, producing a steady rhythm that feels like the sweetest song he’s ever heard.

Relief seeps into his bones as his heartbeat settles into Buck’s steady tempo, like two drums playing the same groove in perfect unison. Nurses and residents come and go from the room, checking vitals, adjusting IVs, asking Eddie whether the pain increased or not.

At one point, Ravi slips in, dropping Eddie’s phone into his lap before announcing that the team has to go back to the station now. He asks him to update them on the situation, squeezing his good shoulder with a mild smile.

Eddie calls Carla right away to inform her about the situation and make sure Chris is taken care of. He thinks he’s doing a good job at not breaking down all over again – but when his son’s voice reaches his ear, he has to take a deep breath not to burst into tears. A piercing pang in his chest makes his teeth clench, barely stifling a painful moan as his ribcage expands.

He curses internally, eyelids squeezing tight. Note to self: breathing deeply with broken ribs is definitely a wrong move.

“I’m happy it’s nothing serious, dad, but please rest as much as you can, okay? And take care of our Buck. I’ll come visit soon. Love you!”

“Of course, I promise I’ll look after him.” Eddie’s voice breaks a little. “We’ll see you soon, mijo. Love you too.”

Of course, he’s going to watch over Buck. He’d never leave him, not after what happened. And hearing his own son asking him to take care of their Buck makes Eddie feel a deep sense of belonging because it’s their family.

Sure, it’s not perfect. Not at all. It’s small, a little broken, but there’s love. A love so enormous and endless that fills in every seams left exposed by the cracks. And Buck is the glue stitching all the pieces back together, guarding them from shattering once again.

Buck became such an essential part of their family that it feels like he was always supposed end up there, to fit in with them, to make a home in their hearts, laying permanent roots impossible to eradicate.

They’re growing into a beautiful tree, strong branches raising high – higher than the sky – and flowers sprouting vibrant, bright, smelling of bland coffee brewed early in the morning before work, cinnamon rolls freshly baked on a Sunday afternoon, the vanilla scent of Chris’ hair wash that always makes his nose itch.

Eddie would do anything to preserve this little heaven they’ve finally found. He’s going to look after his best friend until his very last breath, no matter what. So, he doesn’t leave the chair, lacing Buck’s fingers with his own, eyes wandering on his peaceful expression while fighting the exhaustion that comes over him in waves.

He’s too terrified that if he leaves or falls asleep, he’ll wake to find the bed empty and Buck’s nowhere in sight, like this is just a dream.

Allison comes by after a couple of hours, messy hair, and eyes red-rimmed. She’s clutching a bunch of sunflowers in her hands, a little smile on her lips. Eddie notices she’s got two small bouquets that she sets on the windowsill, yellow shining under the pale hospital light, like little suns defying the sterile gloom swirling in the air.

“One’s for you.” She announces, her usual bright tone a little dampened by the worry hiding behind her eyes.

“Thanks. They’re beautiful.” Eddie whispers, the corner of his lips slightly raising up. He feels stunned. No one ever brought him flowers at the hospital, and he thinks it’s a nice, thoughtful gesture. Buck will surely lighten up as soon as he’ll see them.

“I came as soon as I could. Ravi told me and I just–“ She sinks into the chair next to Eddie, taking a deep breath, voice quivering. “I’m just glad you’re fine.”

“Me too.” Eddie’s voice is rough, but warmth softens its edges as he smiles at her when she squeezes his free hand, glancing at Buck with quiet affection.

“Has the asshole showed up yet?”

“No.” Eddie has completely forgotten about the Tommy’s existence until that very moment. The name feels intrusive, like a dark stain of grease on a white shirt. He shrugs, immediately hissing when pain sears through his shoulder. He forgot about the sprain too. “And I don’t fancy seeing his face right now, so–“

The door cracks open, interrupting him mid-sentence. Tommy enters the room, a mild worry in his eyes. Both Allison and Eddie exchange a look of silent understanding and he barely holds back the groan clawing at his throat.

“Hi. How are you, Diaz?”

“Fine.” Eddie’s tone is clipped, ice cold in his glance.

“I’m glad.” Tommy has a weird expression on his face, sour, like he’s just eaten something gone bad, or he’s just smelled an awful stench filling the air. “I’m sorry but they told me that one of you has to step out. Just two people at the time.”

“Sure. I’ll go wait outside.” Allison stands up without even waiting for a reply, already walking towards the door.

“I think that maybe Diaz can go.” Tommy’s lips curl, and crosses his arms over his chest, tone sharpening as his eyes fall on Eddie and Buck’s entwined fingers resting on the bedside. “Maybe you overstayed your welcome.”

“What the fuck.” Eddie feels the urge to break his nose flare hot in his chest, voice lowering to a rough growl. “I’m his best friend, Kinard. His partner and–”

“Well, contrary to what everyone seems to believe, I am his boyfriend–“

“Really?” Eddie lets out a humourless laugh, sharp as a shred of glass, not even bothering to spare him a glance. “From how you treat him, I wouldn’t say that.”

“It’s none of your business, Diaz. I have the rights to be here and take care of–“

“Now you want to take care of him?” Eddie spits, fury vibrating through his aching ribs. “I wouldn’t trust you with a canary, let alone a human being. You almost killed Buck last time. I won’t let–“

“Guys.” Allison’s warning cuts in like a blade, deliberate. “As much as I’m enjoying this testosterone contest, I think you should take this outside. Besides, it’s not about either of you. Maybe Buck should be the one deciding who he wants next to him right now”.

“Evan’s still sleeping.” Tommy snaps back, jaw tight and venom in his eyes. “But I think he’d want his boyfriend near.”

“Eddie.”

The low mutter fills the room, Buck’s voice raw and slurred, freezing everyone on the spot. Eddie’s head whips around so fast his neck almost pops, the sudden twist making his ribs sting like a knife piercing his flesh.

Buck is still dead to the world, lashes resting against his rosy cheeks, but his chapped lips shape Eddie’s name once again, a fragile whisper filled with panic tearing from his subconscious.

For a moment, Eddie wonders if he misheard. After all, it could’ve been a mistake – a cruel twist of his mind born from his desires. No one speaks, the three of them holding their breaths like they’ve just plummeted underwater.

Then, Buck breathes his name once again, slightly trashing, like he’s still trapped in that horrible scene of the accident and doesn’t know whether Eddie is safe or not. There’s no room for doubt this time.

“Eddie.”

Warmth floods through him like a river overflowing its banks, so sudden and fierce that he almost chokes on it. Every nerve in his body buzzes with electricity, blood pumping faster in his veins, and he feels elated.

“Well,” Allison has a grin stretching wide across her lips. Eyes dancing with satisfaction. “I guess Buck just made it clear for everyone.”

Eddie doesn’t even notice Tommy storming out, face contorted in hot rage. All he can see is his best friend who’s clasping his hand tight, Eddie’s name on his lips like a prayer muttered in the intimacy of an empty church at night. Eddie bends close and squeezes back, his free hand brushing aside a damp curl from his forehead.

“I’m here, baby.” He whispers to him, voice tender, thumb gently stroking the skin in between his eyebrows to smoothen out his frown. “We’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Buck seems to settle down after a while of murmured reassurances and soothing touches, a sigh huffing out his parted lips as his expression goes back to a serene one. Hope blooms in Eddie’s chest like spring after a harsh winter, so bright and loud that laughter bubbles up his throat, happiness pervading his entire body. He feels dizzy for something other than the pain for the first time in what seemed ages.

After what has just happened, it’s hard to believe that Buck doesn’t at least feel something for him. He knows he shouldn’t feel like this, not in this situation, but it’s the first time Eddie genuinely thinks he might have a chance without second-guessing himself.

“You’ve got it bad, man.” Allison squeezes his good shoulder lightly, mindful of his injury. Eddie grins back to her.

“You have no idea.”

A while later, after Allison bids him goodbye with a wink and a knowing smirk, Eddie falls asleep in the hospital chair without even realising, hand still wrapped tightly around Buck’s. The morning after, when he sluggishly wakes up, he feels a faint ache in his chest and his shoulder feels quite stiff from sleeping in that awkward position the whole night.

Light filters through the blinds that he’s sure they weren’t closed yesterday, gold spilling in fractured beams across Buck’s sleeping frame, shining on him like the universe decided to give him back what it almost stole.

His chest rises steadily under the blanket, and Eddie counts each breath to ground himself. He fell into Morpheus arms without wanting to and awakened to find his best friend still on the bed, eyes closed but warm, alive, confirming that it wasn’t a dream.

A nurse comes to check on Buck’s vitals and Maddie brings him breakfast. She stays for a couple of hours to see if her brother wakes up and to keep him company, chatting about lighter topics to distract them from the elephant in the room. Chim joins her a while later and ambushes Eddie, asking him to spill the tea about what happened with Tommy.

“How do you even know something happened?” Eddie feels a little exasperated but can’t really bring himself to be mad at him.

“I have my contacts.” Chim smirks, sinking in the chair on the other side of Buck’s bed.

“You mean Allison.” Maddie huffs a chuckle and shakes her head, stroking her brother’s hair with affection.

“Not important right now.” Chim waves his hand, dismissing her, as she fondly rolls her eyes, acting like she isn’t interested in the conversation as much as her husband. “So, tell us, Eddie. What kind of face did Tommy make when Buck called out for you instead of him?”

Eddie’s cheeks slightly blush and bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh because his ribs are still sore and doesn’t want to make it worse. So, he just smirks.

“What?” Maddie looks at them like a second head has just spurted from their necks. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Eddie sighs, pleased. “He didn’t look very happy.”

Both Chim and Maddie snort as he explains what went down yesterday trying not to gloat too much. Before they leave, Eddie reassures them he’ll keep them updated about Buck. It doesn’t take much longer for him to finally blink awake.

“Hi.” Buck’s lips stretch in a groggy smile, voice rough and throat scratching.

“Hi.” Eddie helps him drink some water, carefully, and then he takes his hand once again, softly kissing his knuckles. He’d like to get closer, to lean down and press their forehead together, but his broken ribs don’t allow him to move around that much. His voice is raw, filled with relief, fear, love. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Not my fault you’re so slow.” Buck mutters weakly, his smile a little wider, and Eddie huffs a laugh that’s more tears than humour, careful not to jostle his body too much.

He cups the side of his face, thumb brushing along the line of his sharp cheekbone, and Eddie knows with certainty that he’ll never love somebody else like this – in a way that makes your insides twist in such sweet agony. A love that makes every single atom of his body play a symphony so intricate and moving that the finest orchestra in the world would never be able to replicate.