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Aren't you that guy?

In a universe, set after 4x13; where Eddie had his feelings realization and never got with Marisol. Set in 7x06, and around that time (this is not speculation)

Based on Somethin' Stupid by Frank Sinatra and Nancy Sinatra

"No. No, man - you've gotta extend your stride when you're doing it, God," Kieran's saying, rubbing a hand over his face as if he's actually disappointed in him. But Eddie leans into it, leans into him that bit more. He has his arm wrapped around his shoulder, hand fiddling with the collar of his button-up.

Under the blue light, Kieran looks so much smoother, lighter. Eddie doesn't remember the last time he'd seen him crack a smile - a genuine one.

And it made sense he was, especially in a time like this. The two of them were swapping stories about their kids. Kieran's got a set of twins, ages five. They're brown, curly hair and green eyes - a splitting image of him and Healy.

Kieran unravels himself from Eddie's grasp to cling onto his hands, tightening his grip suddenly.

He catches his gaze, stunningly so.

"You have to promise me, Eddie," he whispers, the Canadian annunciating each word. "You have to promise me you'll - you'll, you know, take your time. Learn, really learn. And above all else, disregarding the bullshit, you'll prepare." Kieran slaps him lightly on his upper arm, but then his hold prolongs and he slowly, so very slowly, drags it up towards Eddie's cheek.

He's starstruck, except not in a way he had expected when this conversation started. "Kieran," he says, moving from eye to eye. Green-to-green.

His hand is warm against Eddie's skin. "These things don't come easy for guys like us -" Eddie really wanted to know what that meant - "but just know, I need you to know, Eddie, that I'm rooting for ya."

Suddenly, they're both smiling. Under the music, or perhaps it was the booze, the firefighters are laughing, giggling like teenagers. Eddie tries to think back to what the conversation was based on. Perhaps it was about the kids, or the fire academy. And he's not sure - not quite, but at some point, Kieran looked over his shoulder, or, perhaps, he caught Eddie looking over his, and began monologuing about how practice made perfect:

"You're gonna think this is funny. I mean - no, yeah, you'll think so. But, do you ever like, see people, in the places that you've dreamt of, and you just... you just think about how stupid all your choices have been. Like, 'how (he pauses, prolonging such a thing no one's asked for) stupid could I be, and why is this crushing weight just here?' And then it becomes comforting, comfortable- this quiet little place between grief and jealously. Then becoming relief, because this new feeling is much better than any triumph of sorts, far better than achieving everything you've - you've ever dreamt of, Eddie."

He's not sure. Eddie hasn't been sure of much lately.

"Hey, don't be sad, though," he's saying now, hands dropping from Eddie's face. "Just hope." He smiles again, lip ring glistening in the blue light. The pinks and purples encompass him, too - every once and a while. "You must hope."

Eddie nods, not managing to find the words. What the hell was that? he thinks briefly, as Kieran begins to walk towards the husband-to-be.

Making his way across the room, past the huddles of friends and lines of empty bottles, he takes a seat on the edge of one couch. Eddie sets his beer bottle down between his feet. He tells himself that it's because he needs to lay low for a while, and after the conversation with Kieran, he's left with more questions about... whatever it was, than before he started.

At some point, Eddie's unbuttoned the top three buttons of his pink shirt. His suit jacket is no where to be seen, or maybe if he squints it's that thing there hanging over the garbage bin? Realistically, he'd much rather have his shoes kicked off. Socks, then, would be no where in sight. He'd have on his jumper, a tank top - kicked back and watching tv, shitty, shitty tv, with -

"Come on. Your sulking is making me sad, Eds." Eddie turns to see him seated beside him, one leg propped up on the table. "Don't you see my sad face? Does this frown mean nothing to you?"

Buck, still holding a random shot glass between his fingers spectacularly, frowns. He starts to groan, and when he does, Eddie shakes his head. His eyes move over - along Buck's arms and legs, taking in the pastel green of his suit jacket. Eddie had been the one to pick their match, everyone joking about how clueless Buck can be.

And the colour fit him well, very well, in fact. Sometimes, Eddie's not sure if his brain and mind are quite caught up on all of this. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he also wonders if Buck thinks about all of this, too.

In the past few weeks since Buck came out to him ("I think I've come to a conclusion," he said at the start of their next shift. "I've been doing some research - and Tommy - he's been teaching me some stuff, and I - I think I'm bisexual..."), Eddie's noticed how much happier he had seemed. Seemingly a pep in his step, smiling at every ping through his phone; excited to leave as the evening rolled around.

So when Eddie suggested they match, well part of him, merely, also wondered if this was too out there - even for them.

"If you keep doing that, your face'll get stuck, man."

"Good. That'll show you, then," Buck quips. He takes the shot, hissing - trying to keep a poker face.

He straightens out his shirt. Eddie catches sight of Chimney with the mic in his hand, singing an upbeat song. Swaying his hips, fists pumping the air. He looks happy - not that he didn't seem it before, but he looked settled here. Sweating, nonetheless, under the pressure and in the small room with several bodies. He's lost his suit jacket, too, although Eddie can see it on the back of a lone chair.

Buck hums, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulders. "We're next up, hmm?" he continues, and it shouldn't sound like a question - not coming from Buck - but it is. Suddenly, Eddie wants to know what he'd ever done to make Buck doubt he wouldn't have his back, especially on something as small as this.

So he shrugs, picks up his beer bottle - ignores the twinge somewhere in his body when he does so.

"Yeah, I'll pick the song."

By the time Chimney's finished, his voice is raspy. Maddie's gonna kill him. Briefly, Eddie thinking about his own wedding, or what came of it; more the marriage in it of itself. He remembers all the moments, sometimes it felt more bad than good.

Sometimes, sometimes, he finds himself doubting marriage as a concept.

But quickly, Eddie puts on a face once again.

"No more singing for you, Chim, I'm afraid."

"Ah, come on -"

"Over the years, I've grown to like you," Buck adds, making space for Chimney. He plops in between them, snuggling against either sides. "Can't have my sister killing you before the wedding."

Chimney rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

"Just for a little bit," Eddie says, trying to sound encouraging. "At least until your voice... rejoices?"

Using their knees, Chimney pushes himself up to stand and hover over them. "I'm - I'm going over there to get some water."

As he walks away, Buck is all ready following after. Without looking back, he says, "Yeah, yeah. I'll keep an eye on him," and gets lost in the crowd again. "Just pick the song. I'll be there."

Downing the rest of his beer, Eddie makes his way over to the computer-dj set-up they've got going on. Chimney insisted that they hook up their own computer to the system, as the place was known for their horrible, unheard of songs.

He looks over the crowd from up here on the semi-stage at the far end of the room. There's some people he's never uttered as much as a word to here. Some who he's only caught a glimpse of. Some of which know him as the firefighter from the accident.

"See," Kieran says, appearing out of nowhere. Suddenly, he's got a lilt to his voice, as if sober. Like-minded. "I have the perfect song for you."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah?"

Kieran nods, enthusiastic. "Yeah, it's proper." Eddie squints at him. "I promise, I promise. It's one of those Sinatra songs. You know, the one with the evening and blue."

Eddie shrugs. He really can't afford to get roped into another conversation with him. Knowing him, he'll probably talk about fucking Quebec - or worse, the one(1) time he went to Toronto on vacation (and really, why would one go there?). So, like an idiot, he agrees to let him choose their song - their duet.

Kieran starts up the lyric video with a song, and before he can protest, and tell him that Buck isn't on stage yet - and how the fuck he was supposed to work this contraption - the song's playing.

The first few notes eluded, better than what the lyrics depict. A mic has spawned into his hand. And Eddie's eyes transfer over to the computer screen.

The room grows quiet because the speakers are loud; not even their laughs could drown it out.

"I know I stand in line until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me," Kieran starts, voice smooth - an obvious impression of Frank Sinatra. Did that make Eddie Nancy? "And if we go some place to dance I know that there's a chance you won't be leaving with me."

"Valet, you've been holding out on us!" someone yells from across the room.

Kieran begins to smile, continuing on with the song. Eddie's grip tightens around the microphone. Chimney's giving him a thumbs up, a dumbfounded grin laid upon him. To his right, Buck seems at ease.

'Sorry,' Eddie mouths, as Kieran continues to belt. He sighs when Buck shrugs, then replying, 'It's okay.'

It was times like this, when Eddie truly appreciated their ability to have a voiceless conversation. It wasn't often that he and Buck mouthed words across the room. Rather, they would nod, point this way and that - or one would give a look, and the other would know what it meant. Perhaps there was some sort of intimacy in it, then; how the two of them, from day one (or practically their first shift), could express so much without saying a word.

And it was rarer for Eddie to be drawn back to the times when limited communication was all they had.

("You're - you're the firefighter; the one that got shot a few years back? God, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must've been like.")

Except, neither can he.

"Then afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two." The blue lights have returned now, scanning Kieran's face, then moving over to Eddie. Eddie was never much of a singer; he rather excelled in dancing.

But Kieran, he makes it look so easy - effortless in a way that has Eddie smiling. Suddenly, he finds himself rolling his shoulder's back. He runs his hand though his hair which felt of sweat.

"C'mon. You're supposed to be my Nancy," he whispers in Eddie's ear between stanzas. When Eddie catches his gaze this time, Kieran smirks. He proceeds to gaze into the crowd. "I'm rooting for ya."

Pulling away, he lets the music take him over once more. Kieran has the ability to capture him, and then pay him no mind - almost like a magic trick. It is peculiar that he withholds this innate ability until Eddie really needed it, awkwardly needed him. So he tries to get up to speed, recognizes his lack of finesse.

Eddie shuffles over gracefully to the computer. His eyes track over the lyrics, even though he knew the song by heart.

And when he looks up, the Sinatras are soothing; saying it all without saying much, leaving the audience wondering why. Briefly, he can see Kieran looking at him from the side of his eye. He thinks there is a hint of a smile. But he isn't looking at him, and Eddie isn't looking at him either, is he?

Because when he looks up into the crowd, his gaze lands on Buck's once again. This time he's holding up a phone, perhaps Eddie's - recording the two of them. Heat rises to his cheeks.

In those few seconds, which felt like an endless timeline - the two of them on loop - Eddie feels it, sees it, really. He notices the way Buck lowers the camera, how his eyes don't leave his; truly intent in a way he never misses. Eddie knew what his face looked like - he hadn't needed a mirror. Christopher had told him as much sometimes; in the evenings after movie nights, or after a day out. When he came home after a shift.

That same face: a face of acknowledgement he wears when he thought no one else was looking. A face only two people in this living world recognized.

Buck seems to still be recording, that much Eddie can grasp. Eddie finds himself stepping away from the computer, hand wandering towards the foot of the stage. An invisible string.

He doesn't particularly lunge, more of a steady stride.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, "I love you"."

#HELLO?????#oh my heart #op this is amazing what the hell #buddie #fic rec

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