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The room was dim and quiet, the city lights sneaking through the blinds casting golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Buck lay flat on his back, heart pounding, lungs still chasing the echo of Eddie’s name.
He felt the heat of Eddie’s skin, the ghost of his hands, the aftershocks of laughter and longing and something so deep it scared him a little. For years, Buck had known Eddie in every way that mattered: as a partner, a friend, someone who knew him better than anyone else ever could. He’d learned the shape of Eddie’s silences, the weight of his worry, the way his smile softened when he watched Christopher. He’d stood beside him at moments of heartbreak and hope. But this—this was new. This was a secret room in a house he thought he’d already explored, a place full of light and possibility.
The world felt suspended, the silence somehow both unfamiliar and deeply comforting.
He glanced to the side. Eddie was there, hair mussed and lips slightly parted as he caught his breath. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. The air between them shimmered with everything they’d just shared—years of partnership, unspoken yearning, and now, finally, the act that had changed everything and, somehow, nothing at all.
For a long moment, neither moved, both men staring at the ceiling as if it might offer some answer to whatever came next. Buck wanted to say something, anything. To spell out how much this meant to him. But the words were all tangled up, too small to ever convey what he truly felt for the man beside him. Then, almost on instinct, Buck lifted his fist. It was an old gesture: the silent promise that had seen them through the worst days, the best rescues, the moments when words were too much or not enough.
His fist hovered in the space between them, and without missing a beat, Eddie’s knuckles found Buck’s. The contact was light, almost ridiculous in its casualness after such intimacy. But it meant everything. It meant: I’ve got you. It meant: No matter what changes, we’re still us.
A beat of silence, and then the laughter came—helpless, breathless, rolling through them both. It started as a choked snort from Buck, which set Eddie off, and then they were both shaking, laughter spilling into the quiet room and bouncing off the walls. Tears pricked at Buck’s eyes, and when he looked at Eddie, he saw the same glimmer there—a wild joy, a relief, an awe that they’d somehow made it here, together.
“God, we’re idiots,” Buck managed, voice thick with affection.
Eddie grinned, his smile crooked and so full of love that Buck’s heart thudded painfully in his chest. “Yeah. The best kind.”
Buck groaned, running a hand over his face. “You know,” he muttered, “Maddie once told me it wouldn’t be so crazy if I was in love with you this whole time.”
Eddie’s grin only widened. “Wow. She called it, huh?”
Buck shot him a look. “Don’t you dare start.”
Eddie nudged him with his shoulder, laughter bubbling up. “I’m just saying, Maddie’s got good instincts. Maybe she should start a betting pool.”
Buck groaned louder, burying his face in the pillow. “She’s never going to let me live this down. I’ll walk into her house and she’ll just—smirk at me. Forever.”
Eddie chuckled, wrapping an arm around Buck’s waist. “You know she’ll be thrilled. Besides, you’re the one who didn’t figure it out for, what, years? I think you deserve a little teasing.”
Buck peeked at him, mock-offended. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Eddie leaned in, eyes soft but teasing. “Of course I am. My boyfriend is adorable when he’s embarrassed. And I have Maddie to thank.”
Buck snorted, poking Eddie in the side. “Oh, like you’re any better? Please. You looked like you were about to combust every time I touched your shoulder for a year.”
Eddie raised his brows, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I did not.”
“You totally did!” Buck grinned wickedly. “Maddie would have figured you out in five minutes. Good thing she wasn’t around the firehouse more often, or we’d both be doomed.”
Eddie tried to glare but failed, his lips twitching with a reluctant smile. “I was subtle.”
Buck rolled his eyes affectionately. “Sure you were. Real subtle, Diaz. The king of pining.”
Before Buck could say anything else, Eddie nipped his ear in mock indignation, and Buck yelped, twisting away with a burst of surprised laughter. “Hey!”
Eddie grinned, trying to look innocent as Buck squirmed. But Buck retaliated, fingers darting to Eddie’s side, and suddenly they were a tangle of limbs and giggles, wrestling for the upper hand. It was brief and ridiculous—just a few frantic seconds before Eddie caught Buck’s wrists, pinning them gently to the mattress, both of them breathless and grinning like fools.
“Truce?” Buck panted, eyes shining.
Eddie nodded, lips brushing Buck’s forehead. “Truce. For now.”
There was a pause, the laughter fading into a hush that felt sacred. Buck turned, curling onto his side, arm draping across Eddie’s chest. He pressed his face into Eddie’s neck, breathing in the scent of him—soap and sweat and something that was just Eddie. Eddie’s arms came up without hesitation, holding Buck tight, one hand sliding into his hair, the other resting on his back, fingers tracing slow, soothing circles.
For a moment, Buck’s breath hitched. He remembered every time he’d watched Eddie from across a smoky room, every brush of hands on a call, every wordless exchange that said: I’ve got you. He felt all the years between them, all the times he’d wondered if this—if they—could ever be more.
He reached for Eddie’s hand, their fingers twining together with the ease of long practice and new reverence. Their hands fit, gentle but strong, like the promise of something unbreakable. Buck squeezed, and Eddie squeezed back, grounding him.
“Is this real?” Buck whispered, the question barely more than a breath.
Eddie pressed a kiss into Buck’s hair, voice steady. “Yeah, Buck. It’s real. You and me.”
Buck closed his eyes, letting the words settle into all the empty spaces inside him. He felt Eddie’s heartbeat under his palm, felt the certainty in the way Eddie held him—like Buck was something precious, something worth keeping. He felt safe, wanted, chosen.
The city outside moved on, oblivious, but inside these four walls, time was theirs. Whatever came next, Buck knew he wouldn’t face it alone. Not now. Not ever. He let himself believe, finally, that this—this love, this laughter, this belonging—was his to keep.
And as they drifted together into sleep, hands clasped and bodies pressed close, Buck realized he’d found home, not in a place, but in a person. In Eddie.