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“What the hell am I doing?”
Eddie glances at his reflection, confusion swirling in his chest. This bewilderment over his own actions has become a recurring theme lately. Sure, maybe this isn’t as bad as kissing his dead wife’s doppelganger, but it still feels strange.
He drops the razor in the sink, staring back at the face he barely recognizes. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hate what he sees. He’s never had a chance to experiment with his appearance—always clean-shaven in the army and firefighting. Having what can only be described as a pornstache? Yeah, this is a new one.
It’s impulsive and it's out of character but if you had asked him a few months ago whether he ever thought about blowing up his life for a dead woman, he probably would have said no.
“Fuck it,” he mutters to himself. His son has already fled the state to get away from him. It can't get any worse.
Once, during a gruelling therapy session with Frank that felt endless. Frank had raised the question.
“What is it that you want? You often talk about what you should want but never about what you truly want. So tell me Eddie, what do you want?”
Eddie couldn’t answer. The question felt too exposing. It was as if looking too closely might reveal something he wasn’t ready to face. But now, apart from wanting Chris back, he realises he has no idea who he is. Maybe Frank wasn’t suggesting a moustache, but Eddie finds himself liking it. Maybe this is the start of discovering what he really wants.
“Are you sure we don’t need to be contacting the crisis team?” Hen teases softly as she sits next to him.
It’s a welcome distraction. Ever since Bobby left, there’s been a sombre cloud over the firehouse. Gerrard becoming captain has left everyone out of sorts—no more team dinners or games. Everyone’s just trying to keep their heads down. So he spends a lot of time staring at the last message he sent Chris, still waiting for a response he knows deep down he’s never going to get.
“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, stroking his moustache. “Can’t I just try something new?”
“You can. I just don’t think anyone was expecting this,” she says, gesturing. “I, for one, like it. It makes you look… softer.”
“Softer?” He’s been called soft a few times in his life.
His father would tell him to stop being so soft as a child. The army had its training officers screaming at him that he was soft. Real men weren’t soft. You couldn’t survive war being soft, and then there was that one bad argument with Shannon. He can’t remember what it was about, but he remembers Shannon yelling that he was so fucking soft.
“Yeah. Soft. Like you’re more comfortable with yourself. More confident. It suits you.”
For the first time in his life, it doesn’t feel like an insult. It feels... comforting. Eddie glances at Buck sitting across the loft on the sofa, and as always, Buck must sense him. Their eyes meet, connected by some invisible thread. Buck gives him a small, private smile, one just for him, and he looks so... soft. Yeah, Eddie likes the idea of being soft.
The moment is abruptly shattered by the sharp ring of the bell. Their shift has just begun, but everyone expected this—the rain had been getting worse by the hour. Living in a city like Los Angeles means people aren’t used to driving in the rain. And when it rains, it’s only a matter of time before something goes wrong.
“Buckley! Move it!” Gerrard barks, his tone almost cruel, sending a spike of anxiety through Eddie. His eyes dart to Buck, noticing the slight sigh before Buck jogs toward the truck. Eddie watches his leg, mentally noting the subtle limp. Fuck. The rain must be making Buck’s leg tense up. Bobby would’ve known immediately, always keeping an eye out and an ibuprofen bottle handy. But Gerrard? Eddie’s not even sure he knows about Buck’s accident.
The truck is unnervingly quiet. When Bobby was in command, it was never this silent. Gerrard doesn’t like chitchat. Eddie misses the sound of voices filling the space. Now, all he can hear is the rain hammering the metal roof and the distant roll of thunder. A flash of lightning illuminates the world outside, and he feels Buck tense beside him. Without a word, Eddie nudges his knee against Buck’s, leaning into him just slightly.
I’ve got you, he lets his actions say.
I know, Buck answers back, leaning into Eddie in return.
When they arrive at the crash, chaos greets them. The rain has become a downpour, and the thick air is filled with the overwhelming scent of wet asphalt and blood. No matter how many times he’s been through this, it’s a smell he can never quite get used to. They all pause for a moment, assessing the scene. It’s a mess—people are panicked, though most appear to have minor injuries. Their real problem is the car teetering on the edge of the ravine.
“Wilson! Han! Start triaging the minor injuries! Diaz, Panikkar, grab the jaws and get these people out!” Gerrard orders, his voice cutting through the rain. Eddie moves quickly to grab the jaws.
“Buckley, harness up. Stabilise the car and extract the victim,” Gerrard calls out next. Eddie can sense the way Buck tenses before he even glances over. If Buck’s leg is already acting up, attempting a risky rescue in this weather is going to push him past his limit.
“Wait, sir! I can do it. Or—Ravi hasn’t done a rope rescue in a while,” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice calm, though his anxiety is hard to mask.
“No, Buckley has it. He’s at 100%,” Gerrard snaps, his tone sharp with impatience. The dismissal stings, and there’s something about Gerrard’s words that unsettles Eddie, though he can’t place why.
“That’s an order!”
Eddie’s heart pounds as he watches Buck approach the teetering car, each step deliberate despite the pounding rain. The vehicle is dangerously close to the edge of the ravine, rear tires barely gripping the mud. Buck’s focus is intense, even from where Eddie stands, rain running down his face, mixing with the rising tide of fear in his chest.
“I’m going to get you out of here!” Buck’s voice cuts through the storm, clear and reassuring. He feels a swell of pride, though it’s tinged with growing concern. The man inside the car clutches the dashboard, wide-eyed and terrified.
He tightens his grip on the jaws, unable to tear his eyes from Buck as he clips on the harness, moving with precision even as the rain makes every surface slick. Buck’s determination is palpable, but he notices the flicker of pain across his face—his leg is giving him trouble.
“Come on, Buck,” He murmurs under his breath, the knot in his stomach twisting tighter. He inches closer, ready to jump in if anything goes wrong. The thunder rolls in the distance, the storm swelling around them as Buck works to stabilise the car, his movements steady but strained.
When Buck finally pries the car door open, it shifts dangerously. Eddie’s breath catches, watching as Buck carefully guides the man from the driver’s seat. It’s painfully slow, each motion a balance between urgency and caution. The rain seeps through Eddie’s gear, cold and biting, but all he can focus on is Buck, steadfast amid the chaos.
“Almost there,” Buck mutters, his voice taut. Eddie’s pulse quickens as the man clears the door. Buck swiftly secures the harness around him, signalling the team to prepare for extraction. His hands itch to help, but he knows Buck is in control.
Then the sound Eddie dreads—the groan of metal as the car shifts, the last tether of stability giving way. Eddie’s heart plummets as the vehicle slips over the edge, disappearing into the ravine below.
“Buck!” He shouts, his voice cracking with fear. But Buck is already hauling the man upward, Ravi pulling them both to safety with a firm grip. Time feels suspended, the rain pounding down in a relentless rhythm as Eddie watches Buck’s resolve, fierce and unyielding.
As soon as they’re back on solid ground, Eddie rushes to Buck’s side, adrenaline buzzing through him. Buck’s breathing is laboured, but there’s a glint of relief in his eyes.
“You did it, cowboy,” He says, his voice catching with a mix of teasing and genuine admiration, trying to mask the way his heart is still racing. Buck flashes a small smile, cutting through the storm with a moment of calm.
“On to the next one?” Buck quips, tilting his head with a familiar grin. And just like that, Eddie finds himself following him, helpless against the pull.
It’s hours before they’re back in the truck heading to the station. Eddie glances at Buck. He can still see the exhaustion and weariness in Buck’s eyes.
His attention drifts to the way Buck rubs his hands together, trying to generate warmth, a slight grimace passing across his face as he shifts in his seat, his heart tightens at the sight.
Sometimes he wishes he could open his chest and let Buck curl up inside, away from the world. It’s an insane thought to have, but that’s what Buck does to him. He makes him feel insane.
“Hey,” Eddie finally says, his voice steady but low. “You good?”
Buck meets his gaze, and for a brief moment, there’s vulnerability in his eyes before he masks it. “Yeah, just tired,” he replies, the tone clipped but revealing more than he intends. He can see Buck is trying to downplay his discomfort, but the tension in his posture says otherwise.
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses himself into his side, letting Buck rest his head on his shoulder. The rain has made Buck’s hair curl more than usual, and for a moment, Eddie is somewhat overwhelmed by it. He wants to lift his hand and brush Buck’s curls out of his face, to lean in close and feel Buck’s breath against his skin, a reminder that they’re both still alive. But that moment is fleeting, quickly replaced by the familiar feeling of shame, as if he’s asking for too much.
“Hey, there’s ibuprofen and a heating pack in our locker. Go take a shower and warm yourself up okay?” He says softly when they pull into the station.
By the end of their shift, Eddie is spent. The rain hasn’t let up, so the calls have been relentless. Mostly fender benders, none as intense as the one from the morning, but still enough to wear him down. As he packs his bag, mentally preparing himself to head back to his empty house, his eyes drift to Buck again.
Today has been rough on him. No one really knows why Gerrard seems to have it out for Buck, pushing him to his limit more than anyone else. But today was one of the worst, and Eddie can tell Buck’s leg has taken the brunt of it. He watches as Buck grips the straps of his bag, his knuckles white as he limps out of the locker room, trying to hide the pain. His face is a blank mask, like he’s burying himself away, not wanting to show anything that could be seen as weakness.
Eddie gets it. He knows that feeling, but Buck? Buck is anything but weak. He’s the one who broke down Eddie’s door last year, who picked up his shattered pieces and held them so gently, as he put Eddie back together. Buck taught both him and Chris it was okay to cry, never ashamed of his own emotions. He dances around Eddie’s kitchen singing Taylor Swift songs horribly off key and cries to sappy movie’s and not once has he thought he was weak. Seeing him now, so closed off and in pain, twists something deep inside him, but Buck has Tommy. It’s not his job anymore to push his way into Buck’s life, to make sure he’s okay. So he lets Buck go, even though something ugly gnaws at his chest as he watches him leave.
He tries to ignore it as he gets into his truck to drive home, but something keeps telling him that he needs to be with Buck. So, fuck it. He swings his car around and heads straight for Buck’s place.
By the time he pulls into the spot next to Buck’s jeep, he feels determined. Almost all the exhaustion has faded, replaced by the need to see Buck, to make sure he got home safely. Buck might have Tommy, but Eddie knows him better than anyone. He understands him like he’s a part of soul that he has lost.
Eddie doesn’t think twice about using his key, something he’s been hesitant to do since Tommy’s been in the picture, but the nagging feeling that he needs to see Buck overwhelms him.
The apartment is dark when he opens the door, and for a moment, he thinks maybe Buck’s not here. Embarrassment creeps in, but then he hears it—the sound of someone’s breath hitching, like they’re trying to stifle a sob.
“Buck?” Eddie calls out, his voice soft as he toes off his shoes and steps inside. He makes his way toward the kitchen, and that’s where he finds Buck—sitting on the floor, resting against the cabinets, his fingers digging into the thigh of his leg.
“Eddie?” Buck chokes out between sobs, his breath hitching and his grip tightening on his leg. “You’re here?”
“Of course I am,” He murmurs, sitting down next to him. The floor is cold and hard beneath him, but he doesn’t care.
“Ah. Fuck. It won’t stop spasming,” Buck gasps, his whole body tensing, brows furrowed in pain, hair curling from sweat. Eddie doesn’t stop himself this time—he gently brushes the sweat-drenched curls out of Buck’s face, his touch careful and soft.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you” He says ever so gently as he shuffles himself closer. One hand going to cradle Buck’s neck and the other going to his calf knocking Buck’s hand away as he starts massaging the muscle.
The massage is something he picked up years ago when Buck first got crushed by that fire truck. He would pick him up from a gruelling rehab session and his leg would keep spasming so Eddie would message the leg through the cramp.
That was before something shifted. They never once sat like this. Buck clinging on to him. Him and Buck were friends back then, but calling Buck a friend now feels lacking.
Buck buries his face in the crook of his neck, sobbing against his skin. Eddie keeps his other hand on the back of Buck’s neck and pulls him as close as he continues to massage his leg. His chest cracks seeing him like this, as if it physically pains him just as much as it does Buck.
“Sorry,” Buck mumbles into the skin of his neck as the spasm passes. He goes to move but in a somewhat unconscious move Eddie keeps him close, feeling Buck relax into him when he does.
“Shush you have nothing to be sorry about,” He keeps Buck close to him for a few more minutes before he pulls away slightly. “Do you think you can stand? Your floor is cold, Man” He tries to tease, and it works. Buck lets out a small chuckle and nods.
He slowly pulls away from Buck, feeling the lingering warmth where their bodies had been pressed together. He takes a moment to steady himself, inhaling deeply before he stands. His knees protest as he rises from the cold, unforgiving floor, but his focus stays on Buck. Buck’s breathing is still shaky, his leg stiff with pain, and his body trembles with the effort of holding it together.
Eddie watches him for a beat, his heart tightening at the sight of Buck so vulnerable. Then, without a word, he extends his hand, offering steady support.
“C’mon,” Eddie says softly, his voice low, careful not to startle.
Buck’s eyes flicker up to him, glassy with unshed tears and exhaustion. For a moment, it looks like he might refuse the help, his lips twitching as if he's about to argue. But then, something in him gives. Slowly, he reaches out, placing his hand in Eddie’s. His grip is strong, but Eddie can feel the tremor running through Buck’s arm, as if he’s struggling to keep control.
With careful movements, he helps Buck to his feet. It's not easy. Buck’s leg stiffens beneath him, threatening to buckle, and Eddie tightens his hold, feeling the weight of Buck’s body sag against him. Their shoulders brush as Buck leans heavily on him, his breath coming in short, pained gasps. Every step is a delicate —Buck's pained hisses breaking through the silence as they manoeuvre through the small apartment.
“Easy,” he murmurs, his arm firm around Buck’s waist as they shuffle toward the couch. Each step feels like a small victory, but it’s slow going. Buck’s hand clenches the fabric of his shirt like it's a lifeline.
By the time they reach the couch, Buck is pale, beads of sweat glistening on his brow, his body tight with strain. Eddie carefully lowers him onto the cushions, his hands steady as he guides Buck down. Buck sinks back with a sharp exhale, a fleeting relief from the pain.
“There,” Eddie says softly, crouching down to adjust Buck’s leg, making sure it's stretched out comfortably. “Better?”
Buck nods, but Eddie sees the tension etched into his face—the way his jaw clenches, his lips pressed tight to hide the pain. He pulls the coffee table closer, gently lifting Buck’s leg and resting it on top. They don’t talk, but the silence between them isn’t uncomfortable.
Eddie moves through the apartment, flipping on a lamp. In the warm glow, Buck looks even paler, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced. His exhaustion weighs heavy in the room.
He heads upstairs, grabbing Buck’s heat pack and then ducking into the bathroom for pain relief. On his way back to the living room, he stops in the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. He presses the heat pack against Buck’s leg, murmuring an apology when Buck tenses at the touch.
Eddie sits beside him, handing him the pills and the water. He watches carefully as Buck swallows them, then sinks into Eddie’s side with a soft sigh. Eddie sets the bottle on the table and feels Buck shift, resting his head on Eddie’s chest, his hand gently gripping Eddie’s wrist. They settle deeper into the couch, the familiar warmth of Buck’s body a comfort.
“Thank you,” Buck says softly, his voice breaking the quiet.
“Always,” Eddie replies, brushing his thumb against Buck’s skin. “I’ll order us some food in a minute.” Without moving, Eddie reaches for the remote, switching on a nature documentary about whales that Buck kept mentioning, the calming sounds of the ocean filling the silence. Slowly, he threads his fingers through Buck’s curls, his touch light and soothing.
After a few minutes, because he’s a sucker for punishment, Eddie asks, “Where’s Tommy?” He tries to sound casual, but the name twists something inside him. Even mentioning it feels like a blow he can’t avoid. “Want me to text him?”
Buck tenses at the question, and he instantly regrets asking.
“No,” Buck finally says. “I already called him. He’s busy... basically told me to suck it up.”
There’s a strained attempt at nonchalance in Buck’s tone, but Eddie catches the hurt underneath.
“Buck—”
“Not now, Eddie,” Buck pleads softly, his voice tight. “Please.”
Eddie lets it go, gently scratching his nails against Buck’s scalp, and smiles when he feels Buck relax again.
“You know,” He says, trying to lighten the mood, "I've been thinking about that time you dropped the jaws on your foot trying to look cool in front of the chief.”
Buck’s laugh comes out despite his exhaustion, the sound filling the quiet apartment, soft but genuine. “I was demonstrating proper technique, okay?”
“Sure,” Eddie chuckles, grabbing a blanket and tossing it over both of them. “Proper technique in how to get yourself benched for two shifts.”
Buck gives him a sidelong glance, a flicker of amusement in his tired eyes. “What about that time you got stuck in a tree trying to save a cat?”
He narrows his eyes. “First of all, it was a very angry raccoon. And second, what about that time I had to rescue you after you got stuck trying to rescue that dog,”
“You love rescuing me,” Buck quips, his eyes twinkling as he leans back. “Admit it, it’s what gets you out of bed in the morning.”
“More like it keeps me from getting a decent night’s sleep.” Eddie rolls his eyes, stifling a smile.
“Fair point,” Buck laughs, his eyes softening, gratitude flickering behind the exhaustion. “Thanks for always being there to rescue me.”
They sit quietly for a moment and then Buck’s voice trembles, the words heavy. “Sometimes I feel like maybe I’m weak…”
“Buck…” Eddie says softly, sensing the shift in Buck’s tone.
“A few minutes before you came over,” Buck continues, his voice hollow, “it was so unbearable. I was trying to get a glass of water and then... I fell.” Buck laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “I couldn’t get up, it was spasming so bad. I called Tommy.”
Eddie listens, his chest tightening as Buck’s voice wavers.
“He said he was out with friends and that I’m a big, brave firefighter. I can handle a bit of leg pain...” Buck’s voice cracks, and then his tone turns bitter. “And then he made some cheap sex joke about stretches to loosen me up”
Buck swallows hard, and Eddie feels his own anger rise. “It’s like Gerrard keeps pushing me, and it’s starting to feel like maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m too weak. I don’t know. I’m just... tired.”
“You are not weak. You’re anything but weak.” Eddie’s throat tightens, the anger burning hotter. “It’s not a bit of leg pain you got crushed by a fucking firetruck.” He remembers that night all too well. There was nothing weak about it. “And we can talk to the union about Gerrard,” he says firmly, his voice gentle but resolute. “What he’s doing isn’t right.”
But Buck just shrugs, the fight drained from him. Eddie doesn’t push. Not tonight. Tonight, all that matters is being here beside him.
“Thank you for being here,” Buck says again, his voice softer this time.
“Wouldn’t be anywhere else,” Eddie replies quietly.
Their eyes meet, and the world seems to fall away. He feels the warmth of Buck’s body pressed against his, and deep inside, an ache for something more stirs.
It reminds him of ninth grade. A tall boy with floppy blonde hair and bright green eyes that seemed to see straight through him—Kyle. He had spent months quietly watching Kyle in class, captivated by his laughter, by the way he would chew the end of his pencil, by the unfamiliar feelings that came with it.
He remembers Kyle’s touch, the moments by the creek, the thrill and fear of that forbidden connection. The guilt, his mother’s words, the weight of expectation—it all comes rushing back. But now, sitting here with Buck, it feels different. Here, there is no shame. No judgement.
He stays still, caught in the moment, feeling the warmth radiating from Buck’s body beside him. It would be so easy to give in, to close the distance, to let this happen. And for once, Eddie lets himself imagine it.
But instead, he just lets Buck lean into him, their connection deepening without words. Buck sighs quietly, his body finally relaxing as the tension melts away and the painkillers take effect. His breathing steadies, and soon, he realises Buck has drifted off, exhaustion pulling him under.
Eddie’s heart swells, and for a moment, he allows himself to just feel—the weight of Buck against him, the way their bodies fit together, the soft rise and fall of Buck’s chest.
Careful not to wake him, Eddie leans back slightly, his eyes drifting to the television where whales glide gracefully through the water. The sound of the ocean fills the room, soothing and rhythmic, but his mind returns to what Frank had asked him,
“So tell me, Eddie, what do you want?”
It feels simple now, in the quiet of Buck’s apartment. He wants this. He wanted Kyle back then, but now he wants Buck. It’s a truth that settles over him with startling clarity—he wants to be the one Buck sleeps next to every night, the one he comes home to after long shifts. He imagines the mundanity of life with Buck: grocery shopping, doing laundry, sharing meals. He wants the messy arguments, the laughter, the moments in between.
He loves Buck. He wants Buck. The realisation consumes him, all-encompassing and terrifying, but undeniable.
But it’s not simple. He may no longer be that scared ninth-grader, kneeling in a church confessional, begging for forgiveness and terrified of going to hell. He doesn’t believe in hell the way he used to, but the echoes of that fear still linger. There’s something unsettling beneath the surface, something he’s not sure he’s ready to face just yet.
Then there’s Tommy, the minor inconvenience. As much as Eddie has grown to dislike the man, he’s still Buck’s boyfriend. And Eddie loves Buck too much to meddle in a relationship Buck has fought for, even if it’s far from perfect.
So maybe this is enough—loving Buck quietly, from a distance. In the stillness of Buck’s apartment, wrapped in the warmth of their shared space, Eddie allows himself to feel it. He allows himself to love.
As he drifts off to sleep, holding Buck close, for the first time in a long time, Eddie feels like maybe—just maybe—it’s okay to want what he’s always been told he couldn’t.
But when the morning comes, the fragile peace of the night begins to unravel. Eddie slips out of Buck’s apartment quietly, the comfort of being near him fading as a slow-building panic takes hold. His mind spins as he steps into the cold morning air, his heart heavy with the weight of what he feels.
His whole life, Eddie’s prided himself on control—he’s always had a plan, always known his next move. But now, faced with the depth of his feelings for Buck, he has no idea what to do. He’s unsure of himself in a way he hasn’t been in years.
Maybe that’s how he ends up here, standing outside the club in WeHo, staring at the neon-lit sign that flashes “Euphoria” in bold, electric blue. The decision to come hadn’t been planned—it was impulsive, a reaction to the sharp twist of emotion that had unsettled him the moment he left Buck’s apartment. A late-night TikTok scroll had somehow led him here, to this place that both terrifies and excites him.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Eddie’s stomach twists as he watches people filter in and out of the club, their faces lit with excitement and freedom, a feeling he’s still chasing.
It’s conflicting—everything feels wrong, but at the same time, Eddie’s never wanted something more. He inhales deeply, trying to steady himself, but his nerves are frayed. He’s standing at the threshold of something he doesn’t understand, something that scares him, and yet, there’s a part of him—small, but persistent—that’s telling him to go inside.
His hand hovers near the door handle for a moment too long, the thought of turning back creeping in. It would be easy to leave, to slip away into the night and pretend he hadn’t come here at all. He could laugh it off later, tell himself it was a whim, a fleeting thought. But he stays. Something inside him—small but stubborn—keeps him rooted to the spot, urging him forward.
He thinks of Buck from the other night, soft and comforting, the way he had smiled at Eddie and before he can second-guess it, he pulls the door open and steps inside.
The heat hits him first, a wave of warmth that wraps around him like a blanket. The overwhelming sound of music and chatter envelops him, pulsing through the air with a life of its own.
The interior is a kaleidoscope of flashing lights—pink, blue, purple—each colour washing over the mass of bodies swaying and moving in sync with the beat. For a moment, he’s frozen just inside the entrance, letting the scene wash over him, absorbing the energy that thrums in the atmosphere.
He scans the crowd, heart racing. People laugh and dance, lost in their own worlds, and Eddie feels a flicker of longing. The freedom, the abandon—it’s intoxicating. He takes a deep breath, letting the music seep into him. He’s surrounded by chaos—bodies moving together, laughter echoing across the bar, the haze of sweat and perfume in the air.
It was exhilarating, and terrifying. He wants.
He takes a tentative step forward.
People here seemed so… free. They’re laughing, dancing, and touching each other with ease, their faces alight with joy. No hesitation, no walls. He almost feels jealous of them.
He makes his way through the crowd, dodging dancers and slipping past the bar until he finds an empty spot near the wall. From there, he watches.
Men moved together, uninhibited, hands tracing over skin, heads thrown back in pleasure or song. It’s intoxicating to watch. Eddie’s breath catches as his eyes wander across the room, finding a couple in the middle of the floor, arms wrapped around each other, swaying to the rhythm as if nothing else in the world existed. Their faces are close, sharing a soft, intimate moment amidst the chaos, the thrum of music and lights fading into the background for them.
Something twists in his chest—a dull ache of longing. He can’t help but picture himself and Buck in their place, moving together like that. The thought sends a slow, burning heat swirling in his gut, igniting something deep inside him.
He imagines how it would feel: Buck’s strong arms wrapped around his waist, their bodies pressed close, the warmth of Buck’s skin against his. The way Buck’s breath would graze his neck—soft, steady—grounding him even as the world spun around them. It’s a vivid image, one that feels both overwhelming and magnetic, pulling him in despite the fear. He’s dizzy with want.
It’s terrifying. And it’s everything he’s ever wanted.
He turns back to the bar, needing an anchor, something to steady the rush of emotions. Ordering a drink, he relishes the way it loosens him, letting him breathe a little easier. The alcohol warms his veins, easing the tension that’s been coiling inside him all night. Liquid courage.
He orders another drink, allowing himself to sink into the feeling, letting it quiet the chaos in his mind. For the first time in a while, he lets himself simply be.
“You alright?”
The voice startles him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Eddie turns to find a man standing next to him, smiling easily. His eyes are warm and curious, but there’s nothing invasive about his gaze. There’s something effortless about the way he carries himself, and it makes Eddie acutely aware of how out of place he feels.
“Yeah, just…” Eddie’s mind scrambles for words. “Uh, taking it all in.”
“First time?” The man chuckles softly, not unkindly, and Eddie feels the tightness in his chest loosen a bit. There’s no pressure in the man’s tone, no judgement. Eddie gives a small nod, swirling his drink in his hand, watching the liquid move as if it’ll give him something to say.
“It’s a lot the first time,” the man says, leaning slightly closer, his voice low and easy. “But no one’s watching you. Trust me.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says finally, his voice quieter than he intends. “I don’t really know… what I’m doing here.”
The man’s smile softens, his posture still relaxed but attentive. “Just be yourself, man. No one expects anything else.”
Eddie nods, because how can you explain to a random stranger in a gay bar that you’re not sure who he is anymore.
The man gives Eddie’s shoulder a light tap, reassuring, as if he’s done this a hundred times before. Eddie watches as he glances back at the couple dancing, the same couple Eddie had been staring at earlier. There’s an unspoken understanding between them, but it doesn’t feel awkward. Just… open.
“Let me buy you a drink. No expectations,” the man offers, and without thinking, he nods. His body reacts before his mind has time to catch up. It’s impulsive, but maybe that’s exactly what he needs tonight.
“Okay,” Eddie says, his voice a little steadier now.
“I’m Nate, by the way.” Nate signals the bartender and turns back to Eddie.
“Eddie.”
“Nice to meet you, Eddie.” Nate smiles, handing him the fresh drink as the bartender sets it down in front of them. “So, what brought you here tonight?”
Eddie hesitates, the answer heavy on his tongue. He could lie, say it was just a random night out. But he doesn’t. “Honestly… I don’t know. Needed to get out of my head, I guess.”
Nate raises his glass in understanding. “We all need that sometimes. No pressure, though. You don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”
They clink glasses, and Eddie takes a sip, feeling the warmth from both the drink and the conversation settle inside him. It’s different, being here—being seen. And for the first time in a while, it feels like maybe that’s okay.
As they stand there, Eddie can feel the alcohol starting to work its way through him, loosening the knots in his chest, smoothing out the rough edges of his thoughts. He feels lighter, a little less weighed down by everything. He finishes his drink quicker than he realises, a flush creeping into his cheeks as Nate signals for another round.
“So,” Nate says after a moment, leaning casually against the bar, “if you don’t want to talk about why you’re here, how about we just talk about something else? Music? Movies? Whatever. Or we can just drink in silence, no judgement.”
Eddie chuckles softly, feeling the buzz in his veins, the second drink going down easier than the first. “I appreciate that.”
Nate grins, taking a sip of his own drink. “Hey, no rush, right? Just go at your own pace.”
Eddie nods, but his mind feels a little fuzzier now, and the noise of the club doesn’t seem as overwhelming as it had earlier. The lights pulse in time with the music, a soft thrum he can feel in his bones, and for the first time in a long time, he feels… free. Or something like it.
The conversation between them flows more easily now, Eddie’s words coming faster, unburdened by the hesitations that usually weigh him down. He laughs at something Nate says—really laughs—and it surprises him how good it feels. The alcohol is in his system now, a warm glow spreading through him, softening everything around the edges. He glances at his glass.
“You’ve got a nice laugh,” Nate says, a teasing smile on his face.
Eddie huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Not sure how much of that is me and how much is the tequila.” The heat of the alcohol mingles with something more intense, something stirring deep inside him, and it’s both exhilarating and terrifying at once.
He takes another sip of his drink, savouring the burn as it rolls down his throat, grounding him just enough, but not enough to dull the buzz that’s making everything around him feel so vivid. He’s still not entirely sure what he’s doing here—maybe he’ll blame it on the alcohol later, tell himself that this was just a moment, a blur of impulse and tequila. But right now, that uncertainty doesn’t matter.
“Hey, want to dance?” The words leave his mouth before he can fully think them through, his heart already racing faster than the beat of the music.
Nate’s grin widens, eyes lighting up with excitement. “I thought you’d never ask.”
There’s no hesitation in Nate’s voice, no second-guessing, and that confidence pulls Eddie in further. He feels a tug of anticipation, a thrill building as Nate stands and holds out his hand, waiting for Eddie to take it.
He glances at Nate’s hand, then back at the crowd, their bodies still moving in sync with the rhythm, and for once, he doesn’t overthink it. He doesn’t need to. He just wants to feel.
He takes Nate's hand, his pulse quickening as he lets himself be pulled toward the dance floor. The beat of the music vibrates through the room, a steady, pulsing rhythm that seems to sync with the thudding of his own heart. Bodies move in time with the music—some fast, others slow—but all of them free, uninhibited, as if nothing else in the world matters but this moment.
Nate turns to face him, the easy smile still on his lips as he begins to move, his body swaying effortlessly to the beat. He watches him for a second, unsure of how to start, but then Nate takes a step closer, guiding him with a light touch on his arm. It’s subtle, but it’s enough. Eddie starts to move, letting the music guide him, trying to loosen the tightness in his chest.
At first, it feels awkward. His steps are too deliberate. But as the alcohol hums through his veins and Nate’s energy pulls him in, Eddie starts to let go, his movements becoming less calculated. The room spins slightly, but it’s not unpleasant. It’s the kind of dizziness that makes him feel alive, a little reckless, and a lot freer than he’s felt in a long time.
Nate moves in closer, their bodies almost touching now, and he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he matches Nate’s rhythm, feeling the heat of the room mix with the heat between them. It’s intoxicating—the way Nate moves, the way the music flows through them, the way the space around them seems to blur. There’s something liberating in the anonymity of the crowd, in the fact that nobody here knows him or cares who he’s supposed to be.
Nate’s hands find their way to Eddie’s waist, resting there lightly, and Eddie doesn’t flinch. In fact, he leans into it, allowing himself to be pulled closer. His own hands lift, almost of their own accord, settling on Nate’s shoulders. The contact feels both foreign and familiar, his body remembering what his mind is still resisting.
They’re moving in sync now, their bodies swaying together, closer with every beat. Nate’s breath brushes against his neck, warm and steady, grounding him even as everything else seems to spin. Eddie closes his eyes for a moment, just feeling—feeling the press of Nate’s body, the heat of the crowd, the pulse of the music vibrating through him.
Here, on this dance floor, at this moment, he’s just Eddie.
The song shifts, the beat slowing down, becoming more sensual, and Eddie can feel the change in the air between them. Nate’s hands tighten slightly on his waist, pulling him even closer, their hips brushing. Eddie’s heart pounds, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. The slow burn in his gut flares, and he’s caught up in the sensation of it all—of being wanted, of wanting.
There’s a beat of silence between them, filled only by the sound of the music and the weight of their bodies pressed together. Eddie lets the moment linger, lets himself feel the warmth of Nate’s body against his, the weight of his own desire, the pull of something unfamiliar but not unwelcome.
The music thumped around them, loud and pulsing, the bass vibrating through Eddie's chest. Words were lost in the noise, the steady beat of the club washing over him, making everything feel distant, like the outside world didn’t exist. Nate was still close, his body pressed against Eddie’s, moving in sync with the rhythm, with him.
Eddie feels the heat between them grow, a steady warmth that builds with every brush of Nate’s hand against his skin, every shared glance between the flashing lights. The crowd around them blurs, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Eddie isn’t overthinking. He isn’t weighed down by questions or doubts—he’s just here, in the moment, letting himself feel.
Nate’s hand slides up his side, fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt, lingering for a moment. There’s no need for words, no expectations, just the easy rhythm they’ve found together, bodies swaying, feet shifting across the crowded floor. He catches Nate’s eyes in the glow of the club lights, and the playful spark he sees there sends a jolt of something hot and electric through him.
He leans into it, feeling the alcohol loosen the edges of his thoughts, the tension in his body melting away as Nate’s arm wraps more securely around his waist. Everything around them fades into the background—the pounding beat, the blur of people moving in the dark. It’s just them, caught in the heat of the moment.
The question hangs in the air between them, unspoken but clear. Nate tilts his head, his face close, lips just barely brushing Eddie’s cheek as they move. The invitation is there, in the way their bodies press together, in the way Nate’s hand slides higher up Eddie’s back. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he doesn’t resist.
He closes the gap, leaning in slowly, letting the tension build just enough before their lips meet. The kiss is soft at first, tentative—just a brush of lips, testing the waters. But when Nate responds, his lips moving with more confidence, the heat surges between them, a pulse of desire that seems to match the beat of the music.
Eddie’s hand finds the back of Nate’s neck, fingers curling into the hair there, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss just enough to feel the warmth spread through his chest. Nate’s mouth is warm and inviting, his hand firm on Eddie’s waist, pulling them even closer, until there’s no space left between them. It’s exhilarating, a rush of sensation, nothing too serious—just fun, just easy.
When they finally break apart, both of them are breathing hard, their foreheads almost touching as they catch their breath. Nate’s eyes sparkle, his grin wide and full of mischief. Eddie feels a matching smile tug at the corners of his own lips, the weight of the night settling into something lighter, something free.
The moment stretches between them, filled with the thrumming energy of the club, the air thick with the scent of sweat and perfume, bodies moving all around them. Nate gives Eddie’s waist one last squeeze before pulling back, letting Eddie go, and then he loses him to the crowd. The music picks up again, faster now, and Eddie lets himself be swept up in it, in the movement, in the moment.
Hours later, Eddie stumbles out of the club, the cool night air hitting him hard, a sharp contrast to the heat of the dance floor. His head spins, and the alcohol hums in his veins, but through the fog, all he can think about is Buck.
He fumbles for his phone, the screen blurring as he scrolls to Buck’s name. Hesitating for a moment, he hits call.
“Eddie? Is everything okay?” Buck’s voice comes through sounding groggy with sleep but it grounds him instantly. There’s concern in it that only makes Eddie want him more.
“Yeah… I’m fine. Just out having fun,” He slurs, leaning heavily against a lamppost. The world tilts around him, but Buck’s voice steadies him, like an anchor.
“Eddie, you don’t sound fine,” Buck replies, worry creeping in. “Where are you?”
“I’m at Euphoria,” Eddie says, fumbling with the words. “You should see it, Buck. I’m dancing... lights and people, but...” His voice lowers, a confession slipping through. “I miss you.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. Eddie closes his eyes, the admission hanging in the air, raw and unfiltered.
“Eddie… are you drunk?” Buck’s voice grows serious now, and he can picture him pacing, brows furrowed in that way that makes his chest tighten.
“Maybe,” He mumbles. “I just wanted to have fun, but it’s not the same without you here. I want you here.”
Buck’s voice softens. “Are you safe? I’ll come get you.”
“No, don’t! I’m fine,” Eddie protests, laughing softly, though it comes out more like a hiccup. “I just… miss you. And I think I want you. No—I know I want you.” The words tumble out, a messy, drunken confession.
“Okay,” Buck replies, his tone shifting into something gentler, more careful. “I’m on my way. Just stay where you are, alright?”
Eddie chuckles. “No promises.”
“Eds—”
“I know, I know,” he cuts in with a grin, despite everything. “Just hurry.”
The night swirls around him, the sounds of the club fading into a distant hum. He leans against the lamppost, his eyes heavy as he tries to picture Buck walking toward him, steady and sure. He can almost feel him already—his warmth, his steady presence.
Minutes later, a familiar voice breaks through the fog.
“Whoa, easy there, tiger.”
“Buck!” he exclaims, grabbing Buck’s arm like a lifeline. “You came. ”
“You called,” Buck says easily with a smile, steadying him. “Looks like you’ve had a fun night.”
“Don’t even start,” He groans, leaning into him. “The walls are still spinning.”
Buck laughs softly, the sound washing over Eddie like something warm and safe. “Guess you’re not ready for WeHo nightlife, huh?”
“The nightlife’s not ready for me,” Eddie mutters, eyes fluttering as Buck brushes a strand of hair out of his face. The simple touch sends a spark through him, and he leans into it, craving more.
“Let’s get you home before you declare war on gravity,” Buck teases, his hand lingering on Eddie’s cheek.
“The alley started it,” Eddie grumbles, vaguely motioning toward the darkened street. “I was just minding my own business.”
Buck chuckles, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s waist. “Well, I’m here to save you from the alley.”
“You always do,” He mumbles, voice thick with emotion despite the drunken slur. He means it— Buck always saves him.
“What would you do without me?” Buck asks, amusement lacing his tone.
“Probably nap right here. Lamppost seems comfy.” He sighs, eyes closing as he rests his head against Buck’s shoulder.
“You’re not passing out on the sidewalk, man.” Buck pulls him closer, the warmth of his body steadying Eddie as they head toward the Jeep. He lets out a soft laugh.
“You’re my hero, Buck,” he mutters, barely audible as Buck helps him into the passenger seat.
As the door closes, Eddie leans his head back, eyes fluttering shut. The steady hum of the engine and the comforting presence of Buck next to him make the chaos of the night fade. All that remains is the warmth of Buck's care, and Eddie lets himself sink into it
“I was a Pink Pony girl, Buck,” He mumbles, still keeping his eyes shut. His body relaxes when he hears Buck’s laugh. He loves his laugh so much. He wonders for a brief insane moment if Buck would let him record it, so it could spend the rest of time listening to it
“A what?” Buck asks and he can’t help the dramatic sigh that leaves his lips as he sits up opening his eyes.
“You know…” He starts humming the song “ You're a pink pony girl and you dance at the club oh mama i’m just having fun” he sings off key voice cracking.
“Chappell Roan.” he adds helpfully
“Chappell Roan.” Buck repeats with a huff of amusement. “I like her” he follows with a mumble.
“I know you do,” It comes out a lot softer than he intends but he’s not embarrassed. He does know that Buck likes Chappell Roan. He bets Tommy doesn’t know that. Fuck Tommy.. “Maybe we should do drag,”
“Okay…just how much did you have to drink?’ Buck teases gently brushing his hand against Eddie’s arm as he goes to change gears.
“You would look good in drag,” He mumbles, letting his head rest against the window, shutting his eyes. “You’re beautiful”
Buck breathes hitches and for a moment he thinks about taking the words back. He doesn’t. Why would he? Buck is beautiful. So beautiful. His eyes? Breathtaking. So yeah beautiful is an understatement.
He opens his eyes when he feels the car stop, recognising the familiar driveway that leads to his home. He hadn’t expected Buck to bring him here; part of him thought they’d end up at the loft. But this feels right. Being here together. Being home.
“I kissed someone,” he blurts out, not entirely sure why he confesses it or why it feels like he’s admitting to cheating. Buck freezes momentarily, the shift in his demeanour doesn’t escape Eddie’s notice.
“Okay,” Buck replies after a beat, turning in his seat to face Eddie. Guilt gnaws at him though he struggles to understand why. He and Buck aren’t together. He’s single, and if he wants to kiss a random stranger at a club, he can do that. But sitting here, looking at Buck, the guilt consumes him.
“Eddie, it’s your life. You can do what you want ,” Buck says gently. “But... I’m worried about you. With Chris being gone and calling me at 3am—”
Without thinking, Eddie crashes his lips against Buck’s. He’s not sure what he’s doing. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s the memory of Nate’s lips that makes him crave Buck’s instead. Perhaps he’s not thinking at all—just kissing Buck.
Buck responds instinctively, his hands coming up to cradle his face, grounding him as their mouths move together. The sensation ignites a wildfire within him, a heady mix of longing and raw desire that makes him dizzy. Heat radiates between them, an undeniable pull urging him to close the distance.
But just as quickly, Buck pulls back, surprise flickering in his eyes. The sudden absence of contact sends a jolt through Eddie. His heart races.
He searches Buck’s face, feeling exposed, as if he’s revealed something he hadn’t meant to share. Buck’s gaze lingers, an intensity in his eyes that makes Eddie’s breath hitch. The silence stretches, heavy with meaning, but neither of them moves to fill it. The warmth radiating off Buck draws him in, even as doubt creeps in. He shifts back slightly, the distance feeling both necessary and impossible.
“I didn’t mean—” Eddie starts, but the words fall away, lost between them. Buck shakes his head, his expression softening, but tension remains.
“It’s fine,” Buck whispers softly as he reaches forward to unbuckle seatbelt. “Let’s get you inside,”
“Will you stay?” He asks, voice broken.
“Always Eddie,” Buck says soft but determined.
They don’t talk about it. The next morning, he wakes to a dull throb in his head and the faint taste of regret and tequila lingering on his tongue. He squints at the sunlight streaming through the window, struggling to remember how he got home. As his eyes adjust, he spots the aspirin, a glass of water, and a note on the nightstand:
Drink this. Had to go to Tommy’s. Call if you need me -B.
Eddie stares at the note, his heart sinking deeper into the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t blame Buck for leaving—last night had been a mess. Everything felt raw, exposed, like he’d ripped open a wound that he hadn’t even realised was there. The pounding in his head is a sharp contrast to the dull ache in his chest. He wants to run, too. But unlike Buck, he’s stuck—stuck in his empty house, in his own thoughts, in the tangled mess of emotions he can’t seem to escape.
He picks up the note, his thumb brushing over the familiar scrawl of Buck’s handwriting. A part of him feels grateful for the aspirin and water, for Buck still caring even after what happened. But the other part—the part that can’t stop replaying the kiss in his mind—feels hollow. The warmth of Buck’s presence is missing, and his absence leaves him cold.
The memories come in waves—Buck’s hands cradling his face, the heat of their lips meeting, the way Buck responded before pulling back, shock and confusion in his eyes. Each flash of memory twists the knot of embarrassment tighter in his chest. He groans into the pillows, as if burying himself there could make it all disappear. But it doesn’t. It never does.
He spends the rest of the day in bed, letting the hours slip by, the TV playing in the background like static. Outside, the world moves on without him, but inside, Eddie feels stuck in limbo. His mind keeps circling back to Buck, to the soft look in his eyes, the unspoken depth behind his surprise. Eddie wonders if he’s ruined everything—if the kiss had pushed Buck away, if he’s destroyed the best friendship he’s ever had.
The thought stings more than he wants to admit.
Eventually, he forces himself to sit up, dragging himself out of bed. The aspirin goes down bitter, but it’s nothing compared to the taste left in his mouth from last night. His reflection in the mirror looks almost foreign—tired eyes, drawn features. He adjusts his uniform with trembling hands, willing himself to pull it together. But the idea of facing Buck again sends his stomach into knots.
At the station, the usual hum of energy feels off, like something’s missing. Of course, Bobby’s absence has cast a shadow over everything, but for, there’s an additional tension hanging in the air. It feels heavier today. He walks in, trying to play it cool, trying to be normal, but it feels forced. Every smile he gives the team is tight, every laugh strained.
He glances over at Buck, who’s in the kitchen, laughing with Hen and Chim like nothing’s wrong. The sound of Buck’s laughter should be comforting, but instead, it feels like a distant echo. Like Eddie’s watching from the outside, unable to reach it. When their eyes meet, Buck’s smile falters for just a second, softening into something more private. But Eddie quickly looks away, his heart racing in his chest.
The shift moves forward, but it’s like they’re operating on autopilot. Eddie and Buck work together like they always do, seamlessly falling into their rhythm on calls—no words needed, just perfect coordination. But the silence between them is palpable. Every brush of their shoulders, every glance that lingers a second too long, carries the weight of everything they’re not saying.
Hen catches on to the tension. She glances at Eddie more than once, concern evident in her eyes. When she corners him in the locker room during a lull, asking if he’s alright, Eddie brushes her off with a shrug. He doesn’t have the words to explain it, not yet.
It’s not until they’re back at the station, cleaning the trucks in relative silence, that things finally start to unravel.
“Buckley,” Gerrard’s voice cuts through the quiet, his footsteps heavy as he approaches them.
Eddie stiffens instinctively, glancing at Buck, whose expression hardens just slightly. He doesn’t like the way Gerrard says Buck’s name, the way it hangs in the air like a challenge. His body reacts before he can think, unconsciously taking a protective step closer to Buck.
“You’ve missed a spot,” Gerrard continues, pointing to a smudge on the side of the truck, but there’s something smug in his tone, something that makes Eddie’s fists clench at his sides.
Buck doesn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he looks at Gerrard, then back at the truck. He steps forward, grabbing the rag again, his movements tense, and Eddie can feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface.
“Why don’t you back off?” Eddie says, his voice low, before he can stop himself. The words hang in the air between them, and suddenly, the tension that’s been brewing all day threatens to boil over.
Gerrard raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Just trying to help, Diaz.”
Eddie doesn’t buy it for a second. He knows Gerrard’s type—guys who thrive on finding weak spots, poking and prodding until they get a reaction. The protectiveness surges through him, settling low in his gut, a heat that threatens to boil over. He tells himself to stay calm, to remember that this isn’t the time or place. Not here. Not over this. But the urge to stand between Gerrard and Buck, to shield Buck from whatever’s coming next, is almost overwhelming.
Then Buck’s hand brushes against his arm, a silent signal— let it go. Eddie glances at him, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. Buck’s eyes are calm, pleading in that quiet way he does, asking Eddie not to make things worse. But the edge of hurt in Buck’s gaze lingers, and he feels it twist inside him, sharp and unforgiving.
“I guess I have to be careful,” Gerrard sneers. “Don’t want him to sue the department again.”
The words drop like a bomb, and Eddie feels the air shift between them. The penny drops. That’s it. Gerrard’s disdain for Buck—it’s not about him being Buck, or even about his sexuality. It’s about the lawsuit. The one he had almost forgotten about, buried deep in the years of healing and moving on. That time had been messy—full of anger, hurt, and mistrust. But they’d worked through it. Buck had worked through it, and they had all come out stronger on the other side. But to Gerrard, with his rigid view of loyalty, it must have seemed like a betrayal.
Eddie feels the tension crackle through him like electricity. Buck stands stock-still beside him, his expression faltering, a flash of pain crossing his face.
“What did you say?” Buck asks, his voice tight with hurt.
He knows how sensitive the lawsuit is for Buck—how raw that time still feels. The way Buck had doubted himself, feeling like an outsider in his own family at the station. How it had all been compounded by his injury, the surgery on his leg, the recovery that had tested every ounce of Buck’s resilience.
Gerrard, oblivious to the wound he’s just ripped open, waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t be so soft, Buckley.”
And that’s it. That one word— soft —delivered with such smug disdain, like it’s a weakness, a flaw in Buck’s character. The word that digs its claws into Eddie’s chest and twists.
Maybe it’s the memory of Buck on his kitchen floor, fists clenched, nails digging into his own skin, tears streaking his face. Maybe it’s the way Gerrard spits “soft” like it’s an insult, when Eddie knows that Buck’s softness is part of what makes him strong —part of what makes him Buck.
Or maybe it’s just that Eddie can’t stand to see Buck hurt again. Not like this. Not here, not by someone like Gerrard.
Before Eddie even realises what he’s doing, his fist flies through the air, meeting Gerrard’s nose with a dull, satisfying crunch. The impact reverberates up Eddie’s arm, sending a shockwave through his body as Gerrard stumbles back, eyes wide with shock, blood already pouring from his nose.
“Eddie!” Buck’s voice cuts through the haze of adrenaline, but Eddie doesn’t look at him. His gaze stays locked on Gerrard, chest heaving, fists still clenched at his sides. He doesn’t feel the pain in his knuckles yet, just the raw, burning anger coursing through him.
Gerrard holds his face, eyes narrowing as he straightens up, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “You’re out of your damn mind, Diaz.”
The firehouse has gone deathly quiet. He can feel eyes on him, can hear footsteps rushing toward them, but he doesn’t care. His entire focus is on Gerrard, and the anger that’s been simmering for months—maybe longer—finally boiling over.
It’s Buck who steps in front of him, placing a firm hand on Eddie’s chest, pushing him back gently. “Eddie, stop.”
He meets Buck’s gaze, his chest still heaving, the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins. But Buck’s eyes are steady now, calm and resolute, even though Eddie can see the hurt lingering just beneath the surface. Buck doesn’t need to say anything else. The look on his face is enough.
He steps back, letting Buck guide him away. His fists unclench, but the anger doesn’t completely fade. It lingers, smouldering, even as the rest of the crew gathers around them, voices rising in concern, confusion, and disbelief.
Eddie’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. Not now. He’s already crossed a line, and he knows it. He’s not sure how to fix what just happened, or if he even can. But one thing is clear—he’d do it again in a heartbeat if it meant protecting Buck.
Letting Buck guide him into the locker room, he sits heavily on the bench. Buck retrieves the first aid kit with a quiet efficiency that makes his chest tighten even more. He hadn’t even noticed he was bleeding. His hand throbs faintly, but mostly, he feels numb, emotionally spent. Buck works carefully, cleaning Eddie’s knuckles with a softness that’s almost unbearable. He wants to cry.
“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Eddie,” Buck breaks the silence, his voice low and hurt. The words twist in his gut like a knife.
“He said you were soft,” Eddie mumbles in defence, but it sounds weak even to his own ears. Buck looks up, pausing mid-wipe, his blue eyes tired and searching Eddie’s face.
“I’ve been called a lot worse,” Buck replies with a soft sigh, sitting back slightly, the space between them feeling suddenly too wide. He wants to close it, to say something, anything, but nothing comes. The silence stretches uncomfortably.
“It’s the way he said it,” He adds, but the words fall flat. Buck waits, giving him the space to explain, to justify it, but he doesn’t know what to say. There’s a knot in his throat that won’t go away, and he can’t unravel it.
Buck sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I guess this is another thing we won’t talk about.”
“Buck—” Eddie starts, but the shrill blare of the alarm cuts him off. Buck stands quickly, pulling away from the conversation, from the tension.
“You’re definitely going to be suspended,” Buck says with a forced casualness, glancing back at Eddie as he gathers his things. “Ice your hand. It’s just bruised, not broken.” He gestures toward his hand before jogging off toward the truck.
Eddie watches him go, his heart heavy and confused. He’s left sitting there, the dull ache in his hand a faint echo of the mess inside his chest. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring blankly at the space where Buck disappeared, feeling sorry for himself.
He’s stuck in his thoughts, replaying the moment in the bay, Buck’s hurt, Gerrard’s sneer—when a familiar voice pulls him out of his spiral.
“How’s your hand?” Bobby’s voice has a light tease in it, but there’s concern too. Eddie looks up at him, feeling like a kid who’s just been caught fighting on the playground.
“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, startled.
“Buck called me.” Bobby steps forward, his voice calm but steady. Eddie stumbles to his feet, the weight of everything crashing down on him, and before he knows it, he’s falling into Bobby’s arms. Bobby holds him steady, his embrace firm but comforting. He lets himself break for a moment, tears slipping down his face as he presses his forehead into Bobby’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Bobby murmurs softly. “Come on, let’s go for a drive.”
Eddie nods, wiping at his eyes as he pulls back. Bobby’s steady presence feels like a lifeline, and for the first time in hours, he feels like maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to breathe again.
They sit in silence as Bobby drives, but it’s a comfortable silence, one that gives Eddie the space he needs to gather himself. The steady hum of the truck and the familiar presence of Bobby beside him create a sense of calm that he hadn’t realised he was craving. They pull into an In-N-Out drive-thru, and Eddie is about to protest, to say he’s not hungry, but Bobby doesn’t give him a chance, ordering for both of them with a calm, easy efficiency.
A few minutes later, Bobby steers the truck toward the beach, parking in a spot that overlooks the water. The sun is beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the waves. Bobby hands Eddie his burger, still wrapped in paper.
“Thank you,” Eddie says quietly, his voice scratchy from hours of silence.
“This is for me as much as it is for you,” Bobby replies with a soft smile, gesturing to the food. “Athena’s got me on a health kick since the heart attack, so I have to sneak in these little indulgences when I can.”
Eddie chuckles at that, the sound small but real. He takes a bite of his burger, the familiar taste grounding him as the quiet between them settles again, this time even more comfortable.
After what feels like an eternity, he breaks the silence. “I was 15 when I first went to confession.”
Bobby hums in response, giving him space to continue at his own pace.
“It was the middle of the night. I rode my bike for miles to get to the church. I don’t know what I was thinking…” He picks at the wrapper of his burger, his eyes focused on the ocean. “I had this friend. We met in English class. He would chew on the ends of his pencils... We were inseparable.”
He chuckles softly, but the sound is tinged with sadness. “One night, he snuck over to my house. The whole cliché, stones-tapping-on-the-window kind of thing. We went down to this creek near my house, just messing around like we always did. He leaned in to brush some dirt off my cheek or something, and…I leaned in too. In that moment, I wanted to kiss him.”
He pauses, the weight of the memory pressing down on him. Bobby stays quiet, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, grounding him without saying a word.
“I realised then that what I felt for him wasn’t just friendship. It scared me. So I pulled away, left him standing there by the creek, and rode my bike straight to the church.” Eddie’s voice cracks, the emotions he’s held back for so long threatening to spill over. “I sat in that little confessional booth and told the priest, ‘Father, forgive me, for I have sinned…I think I’m gay, and I think I’m in love with another boy.’”
Bobby’s hand on his shoulder tightens slightly in silent support, and Eddie feels a little less alone, the confession lifting a weight off his chest he didn’t realise he was carrying.
“The priest told me…he said, ‘Son, if you choose this life, you won’t have a good life. You’ll be living in sin and going against God. Think about your parents, what this would do to them.’ And so I did. I pushed it down. I didn’t speak to Kyle again. I went to church, I pretended to be someone else. Then a year later, I met Shannon…and then she was pregnant. A whole different sin.”
The flood of emotions finally breaks free, and he feels his shoulders shake as the tears come. He hadn’t realised just how much he’d been holding inside all these years. Bobby pulls him into a firm, bone-crushing hug, the kind of hug that makes Eddie feel like he’s not just collapsing into the past but also being held up, supported.
“You’re a good man, Eddie,” Bobby murmurs into his ear. “None of this changes that.”
“I’ve never told anyone that before,” Eddie says, his voice shaky as he pulls back, reaching for a napkin to wipe away the tears. There’s something freeing about admitting it, but also terrifying. He lets out a deep breath, feeling like he’s only just starting to untangle years of suppressed emotions. “I never really had time to breathe. One minute I was sitting in that confessional, and the next, Chris was born. I had to keep moving, keep being someone I wasn’t sure I could be. There was no space to think… no space to feel. And then…”
“Chris was gone,” Bobby finishes for him gently, the understanding in his voice like a balm. “But he’ll be back, Eddie. You know that.”
Eddie nods, though the weight of Chris’s absence still lingers heavily in his heart. “It was like, for the first time in years, I had all this space and time to think. And I didn’t like it. I didn’t like what came up.”
He hesitates, swallowing hard, then blurts out, “I kissed Buck.”
Bobby’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise, the first break in his usual calm demeanour. “What?”
Eddie can’t help but let out a small, humourless laugh at Bobby’s reaction. “Yeah… I kissed Buck. He had a rough shift, and Tommy was being a piece of shit.” Bobby chuckles lightly at that. “So we were sitting together, and I was holding him… and it just hit me. All at once. Everything I’ve been pushing down for years. I panicked. I found myself drunk at some random gay club, and of course, Buck came for me like he always does. And when he was driving me home and I just… I kissed him.”
The confession hangs in the air, and he feels a strange sense of guilt, not because of the kiss itself, but because of what it might mean for the only stable relationship in his life. “Then we did what we always do—avoided it. Pretended like nothing happened. But I couldn’t get rid of the tension. And then Gerrard started giving Buck shit, and it was like everything I’ve been holding back—every fear, every bit of anger—came spilling out. Next thing I know…,” Eddie gestures to his bandaged hand, the reminder of his impulsive punch.
“I may have ruined the best thing that’s ever happened to me and Chris,” He says, his voice breaking as the weight of that realisation crashes over him.
Bobby watches him for a long moment before speaking, his voice calm and assured. “Buck isn’t mad at you, Eddie. He’s worried about you. He thinks… he’s afraid that maybe he’s been too much for you. That’s why you’re not talking to him about the big stuff.”
His eyes widen in alarm. “No—no, he’s not too much for me. Buck’s never too much.” He scrambles to explain, the urgency clear in his voice. “I just didn’t want to drag him down with me. I’m a mess, Bobby. I didn’t want him to get sucked into my problems, not when I’m this—” He falters, unable to find the right word.
“You’re not broken,” Bobby says firmly, cutting through his spiralling thoughts. “You’ve been through a lot, more than most people ever have to deal with. But nothing about you is broken. You’re still here, still fighting, and that says more about you than any of the pain you’ve been through.”
His chest tightens at Bobby’s words, the truth in them hitting him harder than he expected. He’s silent for a moment, letting the weight of what Bobby’s said sink in.
“And Buck?” Bobby continues, his voice steady but soft. “He’s not some fragile thing you have to protect from yourself. He wants to be there for you, Eddie. He’s always wanted that. You just have to let him.”
He swallows, feeling the weight of his own fear and guilt mixing with the overwhelming love he has for his best friend. “I don’t know how,” he admits quietly.
“You start by talking to him,” Bobby says simply. “Really talking to him.”
Eddie nods, though the thought of opening up still scares him. But sitting beside Bobby, the waves crashing softly in the distance, he realises that maybe—just maybe—he doesn’t have to do it alone anymore.
“Come on. I’ll take you home,” Bobby says, gathering up their trash.
As Bobby starts driving, his leftover nervousness from his confession spills over. “Have you spoken to Buck? About how Gerrard’s been treating him? The other day, he wouldn’t let up, and I found Buck on the floor of his apartment because his leg was in so much pain. He’s still pissed at Buck over the lawsuit…”
“I have spoken to him,” Bobby says gently, cutting off Eddie’s ramble. “And the union. I’m being reinstated on Monday.”
“Oh…” Eddie’s taken aback.
“If you’d waited a day, you wouldn’t be suspended right now.” Bobby shoots him a teasing smile as he pulls the car to a stop.
Eddie lets out a small chuckle, then looks up, noticing they’re parked outside Buck’s apartment complex. His confusion deepens. “I thought you were taking me home.”
“I am,” Bobby says with a knowing smile. “It just so happens that he lives there.”
Eddie can’t help but smile at Bobby’s subtle push. “I’ll see you in a few days…with your suspension paperwork,” Bobby teases again.
“Thanks,” He replies dryly. But before he gets out of the car, he turns back to face Bobby. His voice softens. “Thank you…for everything.”
Bobby’s expression shifts to something more serious, more heartfelt. “I’m proud of you, Eddie.”
The words hit Eddie hard, leaving him momentarily stunned. He waves Bobby off, then takes a deep breath and heads toward Buck’s apartment.
This time, he doesn’t use his key. He knocks, feeling the anxiety clawing at him, the urge to bolt bubbling up.
“Eddie,” Buck breathes out as he opens the door, surprise written all over his face. “Why didn’t you use your key?” He steps aside, letting Eddie in.
“How was your shift?” Eddie asks, his nerves making him pace up and down the living room.
Buck watches him, clearly confused. “Uh, yeah, it was fine,” he replies, gently shutting the door behind him. He stands there, observing Eddie’s restlessness. “How’s your hand?”
“Oh, it’s fine…” Eddie stops pacing, finally facing Buck.
“Buck—”
“Eddie—”
They both speak at the same time, then share a soft laugh. Eddie gestures for Buck to continue.
“Look,” Buck starts, hesitating a bit. “I know it’s been a lot recently, and I’m sorry if I’ve been… I don’t know… too much? Like I’m pushing myself into places I don’t belong.”
“Buck,” He interrupts, stepping closer. “You are never too much. Never.”
Then the words slip out before he can stop them. “I’m gay.”
He freezes, the weight of the confession suddenly filling the room. Buck’s eyes widen, but before he can respond, Eddie holds up a hand, desperate to get the rest out.
"Please don’t tell me this doesn’t change anything,” He pleads, his voice trembling, the vulnerability hanging between them like a fragile thread. He can barely hold Buck's gaze, but he forces himself to, feeling exposed in a way that terrifies him. “My whole life, I’ve never had a chance to breathe. You know what my childhood was like—what I had to push down, what I had to be. Then the army, then Chris—and I love him more than anything, but he’s always been my focus. There wasn’t room for me.”
His voice falters, and hw takes a shaky breath, as if he’s on the edge of breaking. But Buck stands there, eyes locked on him, giving him the strength to push through. “For the first time in my life, I had space. Real, terrifying space. And you…” His eyes soften as they settle on Buck. “You stepped into that space with me. And it was like everything I’d been running from my whole life was staring me in the face. I couldn’t ignore it anymore.”
Buck stays silent, his eyes wide with surprise but never filled with judgement. There’s only quiet understanding, a steady patience that makes Eddie’s heart ache. The weight of his admission feels heavy, almost unbearable, as if the entire world might crumble under it. His heart pounds in his chest, so loud that it feels like it echoes in the stillness between them.
"I kissed you," Eddie continues, his voice barely above a whisper, “because it felt right in that moment. Not just because you were there... but because you . You make everything feel right. And that scared the hell out of me.”
Buck’s eyes shine, unshed tears glistening in the low light of the room, but still, he says nothing, letting Eddie unravel in front of him. Eddie can’t look away, can’t stop now that the floodgates have opened.
“I’ve been running from myself for so long,” Eddie admits, his voice breaking, “that I didn’t even realise how much it was affecting everything… affecting you.” His chest tightens as his emotions choke him, but he keeps going, knowing he has to. “I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner, that I didn’t let you in. I didn’t want to admit it—to you, to myself—hell, to anyone. I didn’t want to face it because it’s clear I have so much trauma with religion … my parents, everything. I thought I could just keep burying it, but it’s not that simple.”
He pauses, his eyes searching Buck’s face for any sign of rejection, but he only finds warmth, deep affection that makes his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.
“But Buck,” His voice softens, becoming almost reverent. “I love you… more than I’ve ever loved anyone. If Chris is my heart, then Buck, you are my soul.” The words fall from him with all the conviction he can muster, and they hang in the air between them, heavy, raw, and unbreakable. “I know you’re with Tommy—”
“I broke up with Tommy.”
The words hit Eddie like a wave, stopping him in his tracks. Buck’s voice is steady, but there’s a crack at the edges, a vulnerability he’s never seen before. He blinks, his brain struggling to process.
“What?” he whispers, barely able to breathe.
Buck swallows hard, stepping closer, unshed tears still glistening in his eyes. “Yeah, the day after you kissed me.” He shrugs as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, but there’s a tremor in his voice. “It’s like everything made sense with you. I was holding onto something with Tommy because I was too scared to admit what I really wanted. But I never wanted his attention, Eddie. I wanted yours. I always have.”
His breath catches, his heart thundering in his chest as he stares at Buck, stunned. It feels like the ground beneath him has shifted, everything he thought he knew tipping into something new, something terrifying and beautiful.
“And Tommy’s a bit of a dick,” Buck adds, his lips curving into a soft, almost shy smile.
That makes Eddie laugh—this small, breathless sound that breaks through the tension for just a moment. But then the air between them thickens again, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid for so long.
“Eddie,” Buck says softly, and his voice cracks with emotion, “I’ve spent years loving you.”
His breath hitches at the sound of his own name, spoken with such tenderness, like a prayer on Buck’s lips. His legs feel weak, like he’s standing on the edge.
“Buck…” He whispers, his voice trembling as he says his name. Buck’s name, a prayer, a promise.
Buck steps closer, so close now that he can feel the warmth radiating off him, the space between them vanishing as if it never existed. Buck’s hand reaches out, hesitating for a split second before cupping Eddie’s cheek with such gentleness that it makes his chest ache. He leans into the touch, his eyes closing for a moment as he breathes in, letting the sensation ground him, steady him.
And then, without another word, Buck closes the distance. The kiss is soft at first, a tentative brush of lips, as if they’re testing the waters. But then it deepens, becoming something more, something full of years of unspoken feelings, of all the times they didn’t say what they really meant. Eddie feels like he’s falling, but this time, he isn’t afraid.
Buck’s other hand slides around the back of his neck, pulling him even closer, and Eddie responds in kind, his hands gripping Buck’s shirt like it’s the only thing tethering him to the earth. The kiss isn’t just a release—it’s a promise, a sealing of something that’s been building between them for longer than either of them realised.
When they finally pull apart, both of them are breathing hard, eyes locked, foreheads resting against each other. Eddie’s heart feels like it’s about to burst, but for the first time in a long time, it isn’t from fear.
It’s from hope.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “For taking so long. For making you wait.”
“You will always be worth the wait.” Buck shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips, his thumb brushing against Eddie’s cheek.
“Say it again,” Buck whispers.
“I love you,” He says softly. “I love you,” He repeats, letting his lips brush against Buck’s again “I love you” He says a final time before he kisses him again.
Eddie finds himself bathed in a kaleidoscope of flashing lights—pink, blue, purple—each colour sweeping over him like waves, pulsing in rhythm with the heavy beat that vibrates through the floor. The music surrounds them, filling the air, but it’s Buck’s strong arms wrapped securely around his waist that keep him grounded. Their bodies move together, seamlessly in sync, pressed close as the warmth of Buck’s skin melts into his, igniting something deep within him.
Buck's breath grazes against his neck—soft and steady—steadying him even as the world spins and shifts around them. Eddie’s dizzy with want, with the electric pulse of the music that matches the thrumming beat of his heart, but this time, he lets himself feel it fully. He’s sober, clear-headed, and every sensation feels amplified. The press of Buck’s chest against his, the way his hands rest possessively on Eddie’s hips, fingers splayed as if Buck needs to hold onto him to keep from floating away.
A few weeks ago, He couldn’t have let himself feel like this. The walls would’ve been up, his mind too cluttered with fear and confusion. But now? Now, he lets it all in. The warmth. The desire. The overwhelming want that he’s finally allowed himself to admit. It courses through him, making him feel more alive than he’s felt in years.
It’s a weeknight, so the club isn’t as packed as it was the last time he was here. The energy is different, quieter, tamer—more fitting to his comfort zone. The crowd is sparse, leaving them with enough space to breathe, to move together in a way that feels intimate, even in the midst of flashing lights and strangers. Everything about tonight feels right.
He tilts his head back slightly, just enough for Buck’s lips to brush against his neck, a fleeting but tender gesture that sends a thrill down his spine. He smiles, eyes half-closed as he takes in the moment—the music, the lights, Buck’s body warm and steady against him. It’s not chaotic like it was before, not some drunken haze where he was lost in confusion. Now, he’s here, fully present, and for the first time in so long, he feels like he belongs.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Hen and Karen nearby, wrapped up in their own little world. They’re swaying together, lost in each other’s gaze, the kind of easy love that he once thought was impossible for someone like him. He feels a sense of pride in knowing that he’s built something like that with Buck—something real, something honest.
Bobby’s back at work, things finally settling into a sense of normalcy after the chaos of the past few weeks. And tomorrow, Chris is coming home. The thought makes Eddie’s heart swell, warmth flooding through him as he thinks about holding his son again, about having him back where he belongs. Chris will be with him, and Buck— his Buck —will be there, too. It’s as if the broken pieces of his life are slowly knitting themselves back together, one by one.
It’s not the wild, reckless abandon of trying to escape or drown out pain. It’s the quiet, steady joy of knowing that things are falling into place. It’s the sense of peace in his chest, the security of being held in Buck’s arms, and the realisation that for the first time in a long time, he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.
He looks up into Buck’s eyes, catching the familiar warmth in his gaze. Buck is smiling down at him with that bright, easy smile that’s always felt like sunshine after a storm. In Buck’s eyes, Eddie sees everything—love, trust, understanding. All the things he once thought were too much to hope for.
Buck gently lifts a hand to Eddie’s face, his fingers brushing where his moustache used to be, the skin now clean-shaven.
“You miss it?” Eddie asks, turning slightly to kiss the pad of Buck’s thumb, the gesture soft and intimate.
“Kinda,” Buck admits with a small shrug. “But I like this.” He lets his hand rest against Eddie’s cheek, stroking the skin softly with his thumb, the touch both familiar and electrifying.
Eddie leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of Buck’s hand seep into him, anchoring him. When he opens his eyes again, Buck is still watching him—like he’s the only person in the world. Like he’s something precious. Something worth holding on to.
“You okay?” Buck asks, his voice gentle, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. Like he’s still afraid that somehow, this moment might slip away.
“I’m more than okay,” Eddie replies, his voice quiet but firm with conviction. “I’m happy.”
The words feel strange on his tongue—he hasn’t let himself say them, hasn’t let himself believe in happiness for a long time.
But now? Now it feels like the truth. He’s happy because he’s here, with Buck, surrounded by people he loves, and Chris is coming home tomorrow. For the first time in what feels like forever, Eddie can feel the weight he’s been carrying lift. He can finally breathe.
Buck’s smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he leans down to press his forehead against Eddie’s, their noses brushing in the softest, most intimate way. “I’m happy too,” Buck whispers, and it feels like a promise.
“Oh, I love this song,” Eddie grins as the familiar beat of Pink Pony Club starts playing, the melody wrapping around them like an invitation. He presses his body closer to Buck, letting their movements melt into the rhythm of the song.
“I know you do,” Buck chuckles softly, his breath warm against Eddie’s ear as he sings along to the lyrics, his voice low and playful. It makes Eddie laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside, full of joy.
“I love you,” Eddie says, the words coming easily, never losing their weight, never getting old. It still feels like a revelation every time he says it.
“I love you,” Buck replies, pressing a tender kiss to Eddie’s lips, slow and deliberate.
Eddie pulls back just a fraction, his eyes searching Buck’s before he speaks, the admission soft but full of meaning. “I think I love me too.”
The way Buck’s face lights up at those words makes his heart race. Buck pulls him into another kiss, and this time, it’s deeper, lingering—full of all the things they’ve finally said and the things that don’t need to be spoken anymore.
They stay there, wrapped up in each other, swaying gently to the music, letting the moment stretch on between them. It’s perfect, not because it’s grand or elaborate, but because it’s them—quiet, steady, real. The world spins around them, the music pounding in the background, but all he can feel is Buck—his warmth, his love, the steady beat of his heart, perfectly in sync with Eddie’s own.
In the distance, Hen and Karen’s laughter breaks through, a brief reminder that they aren’t alone. But Eddie doesn’t mind. Everything feels exactly as it should.
And for once, Eddie lets himself feel it all. The joy, the love, the warmth of being exactly where he’s supposed to be. With Buck. Always with Buck.