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tripleaxeldiaz · 2 years

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when the dance it’s through, it’s me and you

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He knew this was coming, is the thing. He had time to prepare, to steel himself, to come to terms with the fact that while Buck didn’t want to be with Taylor specifically, he does, eventually, want to be with someone. And finding someone to be with involves dinners and drinks and generally less free time to hang out with your best friend and his son, no matter how much your best friend selfishly enjoys having you all to himself.

So Eddie knew this was coming — he really, painfully did — and he thought he would be able to handle it.

But then he walks into the locker room at the end of shift on a random Thursday and is overcome with want so suddenly that he can’t feel his legs for a minute, because Buck looks good. He always does, to be fair, but this is borderline sinful — his jeans are perfectly tight, his shirt makes his biceps look like they’re about to pop the seams, and his hair is slicked enough to stay down but not enough to get rid of the curls completely.

He recovers as quickly as he can, shaking himself as he crosses the rest of the distance to his locker. “Hot date tonight?” he asks, partially joking, partially curious, partially desperately hoping those jeans will be sitting on his couch instead of on a cracked leather stool in a dimly lit bar.

Buck smiles, soft and a little shy. “Yeah, actually, I’m meeting her for drinks in 20 minutes.”

Eddie had definitely not prepared himself enough at all, actually, if the way his heart uncomfortably skips in his chest is anything to go by.

He shakes himself again, aims for something encouraging and normal. “That’s great, man, I hope it goes well.”

It’s a lie, a big, fat lie, but Buck’s smile turns up to 1000 watts and he’s wiggling with excitement. Eddie can’t help but absorb a little bit of that happiness and smile right back.

“Thanks,” Buck says, slamming his locker closed. “I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. We still on for the zoo?”

“Of course, Chris would never miss a chance to see the new brown bear cubs.”

“Me neither,” Buck says, his smile somehow getting even brighter. “Give him a hug for me when you get home, yeah?”

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

Buck waves as he jogs out the bay doors towards his Jeep. It takes an impressive amount of will power for Eddie not to gawk at his ass as he goes. He stays in the locker room long enough to watch the Jeep pull out of the parking lot, and then he does the only thing anyone can do when the man you’re stupidly in love with is dating people other than you.

He drives his ass home and sulks.

Just for the evening, he tells himself. Honestly, Frank should be proud of him for feeling his feelings like this.

Of course, Frank would also remind him that if he had been honest with Buck about the whole stupidly in love thing, he maybe wouldn’t have to be feeling any of these feelings at all. But he wasn’t — he put it off and put it off instead, at first because of proximity to the break up, and then because they had fallen back into a rhythm — field trip chaperoning and beach days and more nights with Buck crashing on his couch than without — that he was reluctant to break. And yes, Frank, he knows they could’ve kept that rhythm, and he knows he shouldn’t assume Buck’s feelings for him, he gets it, okay, but honestly?

He’s scared.

Terrified to his bones, actually, and he’s secure enough in his emotions to admit that to himself. The idea of summiting the mountain of his feelings for Buck with no idea what will be on the other side ranks right up there on his list of greatest fears with tight spaces and getting shot in broad daylight, and he’s not sure any amount of therapy would make him okay with living a life that Buck wasn’t a part of. And he knows, he knows, as deeply in his bones as that terror is, that Buck would never, ever leave him and Chris completely, but there’s still a smidge of ever-present fear keeping guard at the top of the mountain and not letting him pass.

Maybe one day that fear will finally melt away and let him through. Until then, the only thing melting is the ice cream in his bowl, so he shovels another spoonful into his mouth and tries to focus on the movie Chris picked out instead of the flurry of nonsense happening in his head.

He gets about 10 minutes of peace, just long enough for Chris to finish his own ice cream, place the bowl on the coffee table, and turn to face him head on, eyebrows furrowed in a surprisingly Buckley manner.

Eddie pauses the movie. “You okay bud?”

Chris nods. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

He has no idea how he sees through him so easily, but he always does. And he never wants to lie to Chris, but he also doesn’t think talking to your eleven year old about your love life is very healthy, no matter how close the two of you may be.

“I’m…a little blah today, I guess,” he says, shrugging. A very broad truth, but the truth nonetheless.

Chris nods sagely. He reaches behind them, tugging the blanket off the back of the couch and tucking it securely around the two of them. He picks up the remote and snuggles deeper into Eddie’s side, and Eddie wraps his arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze, thankful that Chris doesn’t think he’s too big for this kind of affection just yet.

Chris presses play, monstrous roars and metallic shrieks filling the living room again. “I bet the giant robot fights will help you feel better.”

Eddie snorts through his nose, leaning down to rest his cheek on top of Chris’ head. “I bet you’re right. I’ll be better in no time now.”

I’ll be better in no time I’ll be better in no time I’ll be better in no time

If he repeats it enough, maybe it’ll stick. Someday. Eventually.

~~~~~~~~~~

They meet at the zoo bright and early next morning, Buck full of big smiles and bear hugs as usual. Chris has the day planned to the letter, so they don’t take a break until well into the afternoon, Eddie and Buck collapsing onto a shaded bench while Chris is distracted by one of the zookeepers talking about brown bear hibernation.

Buck hasn’t said a word about the date all day, so Eddie could keep avoiding it too. But he should be supportive, he supposes, even if it has the potential to ruin their otherwise perfect day.

“So,” he says as neutrally as possible. “How was last night?”

Buck shrugs and smiles, but it’s tight, not as bright as Eddie’s been seeing all day. “Her name’s Jessica, she works in PR, has a chocolate lab named Goose. We split a giant pretzel at the bar and she laughed at all of my jokes.”

“Wow, she must really like you, most of your jokes are terrible.”

Buck throws his head back and laughs loudly, shoving Eddie’s shoulder with his own. “They are not, asshole, I’m a comedic genius.”

“I think everyone on our team would beg to differ,” Eddie says, chuckling, trying not to chase after Buck’s warmth as he sits back upright. “So it went well?”

Buck shrugs again. “For the most part.”

“But?”

He sighs harshly through his nose. “She talked about her ex, like, the entire night. Every time she asked me a question, I’d answer, it would somehow connect back to him, and she’d go on a 10 minute tangent. I think I knew more about him than her by the end of the night.”

Eddie winces, “Yikes, that sucks.”

“And then,” Buck continues, “she still asked me if I wanted to go back to her place!”

Eddie’s stomach flips uncomfortably, because it was hard enough keeping his cool hearing about an innocent date, he’s not sure he’d be able to handle hearing about anything beyond that. “Did you? Go with her?”

Buck shakes his head hard. “No way, I told her I was too tired and bailed. I honestly wish I could’ve bailed sooner, but I didn’t know how to without looking like a douche.”

The words tumble out of him before he can stop them. “You could’ve called me.” Buck cocks his head towards him, confused, and Eddie is just as confused himself, but it seems his subconscious has already worked this out. “Adriana does it with her friends. If a date starts going south, she’ll text them so they call with a fake emergency and she can leave. Apparently it works every time.”

It’s quiet for a bit as Buck mulls the idea over, absentmindedly picking at his nails. “You don’t think I should just stick it out?” he asks quietly, like he’s afraid to voice the thought too loudly. “Maybe I’m just rusty at the whole dating thing.”

Eddie scoots down the bench until they’re pressed together from hip to ankle. “You just got out of a relationship where you thought sticking it out would work,” he says as kindly as he can. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with knowing when you don’t want something, and it’s not fair to anyone to keep forcing it, especially to yourself.” It’s pretty good advice, if he does say so himself, even if it’s partially motivated by the green-eyed part of him that doesn’t want any of Buck’s dates to work out.

But he wants Buck to be happy, more than anything else. And that trumps useless jealousy every time.

Buck ducks his head and smiles that soft, sweet smile that Eddie loves best. “You’d really come up with a fake emergency for me?”

Eddie knocks their shoulders together again. “Of course.” I’d do anything for you goes left unsaid.

Before he can say anything else that tells on himself too much, Chris makes his way back over to them, his smile so big it practically splits his face in half. “Dad! The zookeeper said they’re gonna feed the bears at 4! Can we get ice cream and come back so we can watch?”

“Sure we can,” Eddie says. “I think I just need to get some—”

“I got it, Eds,” Buck says, patting his knee as he stands. “Chris, did the zookeeper tell you anything you didn’t already know?”

That launches Chris into fact after fact, the two of them chattering as they walk to the ice cream stand. Eddie lags behind a bit, watching them laugh, and tries not to think too hard about how wants this — ice cream and bear facts and Buck being theirs — forever.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck goes on more dates — six more, to be precise — and he doesn’t call for a bailout during any of them. It’s a good sign — no call means the date is going well which means Buck is happy and having a good time — and Eddie knows he should be happy for him, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the teeniest, tiniest bit disappointed when he doesn’t see Buck’s contact flash across his phone.

He does not sulk about it, though.

At least not obviously enough for Chris to notice.

He does stop buying ice cream. Just in case.

And he does ask Buck about the dates, every time, because he’s a good friend, damn it, and he wants to support Buck in everything he ever does, including getting his groove back. He’ll push any and all of his own feelings aside if it means Buck knows that he’s in his corner no matter what.

He’s doing exactly that the night of date number seven, trying instead to focus on watching the Rangers game and not on the fact that Buck is currently at a Mexican restaurant not half a mile away from his house, or how easy it would be to put in an order for pick up so he can casually scope the place out and see how Buck is doing.

He will not be doing that, though, because that crosses far too many lines for his liking. He also doesn’t want to have to explain that one to Frank.

Jonah Heim hits a triple, and Eddie’s phone starts to buzz. And buzz. And buzz. And buzz.

[from: Buck] eddie sos pls help

[from: Buck] this man has been so rude to our waiter i’m about to lose it

[from: Buck] and i love this place i don’t want them to think i approve of this horrible behavior

[from: Buck] i’m hiding in the bathroom i’m so embarrassed

[from: Buck] i can’t be here anymore pls save me

[from: Buck] eddie

[from: Buck] eDDIE PLEASE

A thrill goes through him, quickly squashed by guilt, because he really should not be so pleased about this. That doesn’t keep a small smile from spreading as he types back, fully prepared for this situation like he promised he would be.

[to: Buck] I’m on it. Go back to the table, I’ll call you in 5. Just play along.

He gets about 25 heart emojis in response, which sets off another thrill, which brings more guilt. He waits a bit, long enough for a home run from the Guardians to put the Rangers behind, before he clicks Buck’s number.

Buck answers on the second ring. “Hey Eds, everything okay?”

Eddie hopes the one fluke drama class he took in high school will serve him well now. “Hey man, sorry to interrupt your date, but Chris and I are headed back from the beach and our tire just blew out.”

“Oh no, are you guys okay?” His concern is so genuine it makes Eddie’s heart beat a little faster before he remembers it's all an act.

“We’re fine,” he says, “but the closest mechanic is like a 5 mile walk from here. I really hate to ask, but—“

“No, it’s okay, I’m on my way. Maybe now you’ll finally listen to me and get Triple A, huh?”

That’s not a lie, he’s been bugging Eddie about it for years now. “You can lecture me all about it later.”

“Oh I will,” he says, and Eddie can hear his smile. “Sit tight, I’ll be there soon.”

They hang up, and it strikes Eddie that if this were real, if he had actually called Buck while he was busy and needed his help, he doesn’t think the conversation would have gone any differently. Buck has always been willing to drop everything for him and Chris, and six months ago that would’ve made him feel awful, like he was taking advantage, but now he just feels…protective. Even in a fake scenario like this. He knows how big and golden Buck’s heart is, but his date clearly doesn’t, and something about that makes Eddie want to shout about it from the top of the Hollywood sign so everyone knows, keep watch over it like a bouncer at a club, only letting the worthy few in.

They weren’t kidding when they said love makes you stupid, even the unrequited kind.

His phone buzzing again breaks him out of his spiral.

[from: Buck] you are my hero

[from: Buck] he barely even looked at me when i left he was too busy berating the staff

[from: Buck] thank you so much i owe you so big

Eddie doesn’t think before he texts back, just acting on instinct and what he wants.

[to: Buck] You can start your payback by bringing dinner over.

Which he immediately regrets, because maybe Buck doesn’t want to come over. Maybe he’s so affected by the date that he wants to be alone, or maybe he’s on the way to meet up with someone else, and Eddie has served his purpose and been a good friend so why would he—

Another succession of buzzes.

[from: Buck] done

[from: Buck] me and general tso are on our way

[from: Buck] hope you have beer because i need about 5

And there goes Eddie’s heart singing again. He really needs to get that under control.

20 minutes later, the Rangers are still losing, and the front door swings open revealing Buck, backlit like some kind of angel, holding way too many bags of Chinese takeout.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he says, dropping the food in the kitchen before flopping next to Eddie on the couch. “I didn’t get to eat dinner and I also had a coupon.”

Eddie snorts. “Of course you did.” They sit in silence for a minute while Eddie debates bringing the date up at all. But, again, he’s a good friend, so he does. “So it was that bad, huh?”

Buck closes his eyes and sighs loudly through his nose. “Imagine the worst person you’ve ever met, multiply their bad attitude by 100, put them in a Patagonia quarter zip and All Birds shoes, and that’s what I got tonight.”

Eddie winces. “So a huge douchebag.”

“He made two waiters cry,” Buck says, “and that was before we even got our appetizers.” He sighs again and looks over at Eddie, eyes and smile both soft and unguarded. “Thank you for saving me.”

Again, Eddie doesn’t think before he answers. “I’ll always save you.”

Maybe it’s too revealing, maybe he’s showing too many of his cards, but it makes Buck’s smile widen and his eyes get even softer, so Eddie can’t really find it in himself to take his words back.

“I know you will,” Buck says quietly, reverently, and with a baseball game as background noise and the smell of takeout wafting through the air, Eddie lets himself forget about dates and douchebags and pretend that this is the way things will always be.

~~~~~~~~~~

It happens again. And again. And again and again and again. Every other night for two weeks straight.

Eddie should feel bad, probably, but Buck always looks so relieved when he enters the Diaz house after another disaster, and Eddie can’t help but preen just a little bit at the fact that he is the reason for that relief, for the light in Buck’s eyes, if only for the night.

He’s being a good friend. And maybe a little selfish. But Buck is happy and not dating assholes, so it’s fine.

It’s almost enough.

It’s all Eddie’s got.

“90 minutes of true crime facts?” Chim asks when Buck recounts his latest aborted date in the loft between calls. “That’s annoying and slightly terrifying.”

“I know,” Buck says. “That’s why I left before dessert.”

“I don’t get it,” Hen chimes in from her perch at the kitchen counter. “You used to sleep with anything that moved, and now you can’t even make it through dinner?”

Buck clutches his chest in mock offense. “It’s called having standards, Henrietta. I’m older and wiser now, and I know what I want, and it is not hearing about other people’s murders every day for the rest of my life.”

He says it with such confidence, such surety, and Eddie’s proud, so proud, that Buck knows himself and his worth, but it also kind of stings. He knows what he wants too — who he wants — but he’s pretty sure he’ll never get to have it. He’ll get scraps, the aftermath of bad dates, until there are no more bad dates to speak of, and then everything will be different, and Buck will be gone. And Eddie will somehow have to figure out how to keep going with shrapnel for a heart.

If you talk to him…Frank’s voice echoes in his head, and it’s right, it’s been right, it’s always right, but it’s too late. Eddie missed that boat, and now all he can do is wave from the docks.

Buck’s arm coming to rest across his shoulders brings him back to Earth. “Luckily, I’ve got my knight in shining armor to bail me out and save me.”

“Oh?” Hen asks, eyebrows high.

Buck nods. “Fake emergency call. Works like a charm.”

“For every bad date?”

“Every one.”

“Every one?” Chimney repeats.

“Come on, like you two wouldn’t do that for each other.” The matching wide-eyed, jaw-dropped looks of surprise say otherwise. Eddie wants to sink into the couch and disappear forever.

Luckily, Bobby saves him from becoming part of the furniture. “Buck!” he calls from the truck bay. “Come help Ravi clean out the storage closet.”

“On it!” Buck shouts back. He pats Eddie’s chest before bounding down the stairs, and Eddie hates how quickly he misses the warmth, the grounding presence of Buck’s hands on him. Thoughts like that don’t make the “getting over being in love with your best friend” thing very easy.

He doesn’t realize he’s still staring after Buck until a throat clears from the kitchen. Eddie snaps his eyes over, and Hen and Chim are still staring at him, the shock on their face morphing into realization, because of course they figured everything out almost immediately.

“I know,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face, half exhausted, half hiding. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you should,” Chimney says. Eddie peaks through his fingers to look at him, and he looks more sympathetic than anything else now. “With Buck, at least.”

And there’s so many things he could say to that — He’s just getting used to dating again, He doesn’t want me like that, I’ll get over it soon, maybe, hopefully — but one statement, probably the most truthful statement, stands out above the rest.

“If I keep bailing him out like this, I get to keep him a little longer. He’ll find someone eventually who’s everything he wants, but until then, he’s got me.” It’s pathetic, and unbelievably selfish, but Eddie’s too tired to really care.

Hen moves then, joining him on the couch, resting a gentle, comforting hand on the back of his neck. “You don’t think you’re everything he wants?” she asks.

He doesn’t have an answer that won’t involve a long, painful session with Frank after he admits it out loud, so he stays quiet, and she lets him. Her nails scratch through his hair, lulling him into the closest he’s gotten to peace in months, and for a few minutes, he can pretend this stupid plan of his isn’t breaking is own heart.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s almost 10pm on a date night, and Eddie hasn’t heard from Buck. They were meeting at 6, so he figured by 8:30, Buck would be on his couch eating lo mein and venting. But 8:30 came and went, and so did 9, and so did 9:30, and Eddie’s heart sank lower and lower until it felt like it was crushing his intestines, because he knows exactly why Buck hasn’t called. He still doesn’t believe in jinxes, but it is some kind of sick, universal irony that he put words to feelings he had vowed would never see the light of day, and not a week later, they were coming back around to bite him in the ass.

He makes it until 10:30 before he breaks out the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer. At least Chris is asleep and can’t judge him.

This is his own fault. Just like when Buck first got back into dating, Eddie had been so desperate to cling to him, to their family, in any way he could, that he completely disregarded preparing to live life any differently. And part of him quietly hoped that it wouldn’t come to this — that somehow, Buck would figure out all the things that Eddie couldn’t express, that he doesn’t belong in a hazy bar or candlelit restaurant with some stranger he met on an app. He belongs somewhere with people who know him, who see him, who will fight against hell and high water and everything in between to be in his corner.

But Buck doesn’t know any of that, because he’s not a mind reader, as Frank constantly reminds him, and Eddie was too much of a coward to tell him the truth.

Not even the ice cream takes the sting out of that.

When he’s laying in bed an hour later, trying in vain to fall asleep, he remembers that he should probably text Buck and check in. That’s what you do when your best friend has a seemingly successful date — you debrief and congratulate him and tell him you hope it keeps going well.

But he’s just…can’t.

So he doesn’t.

He puts his phone down and rolls over and adds guilt to the pile of emotions threatening to collapse in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing he hears when he walks into the locker room the next day is Chimney asking, “So, Buckaroo, what did your date do wrong this time?”

Which is followed by Buck laughing and saying, “It actually went really well. We already have date number two planned for next week.”

Which is followed by Eddie seriously considering leaving and calling in sick. He doesn’t even care if that’s dramatic — his stomach is churning, so it’s not really a lie.

Hen spots him before he can bolt, though, and she gives him a look like she can hear his heart crumbling from across the room.

Busted.

He tries his best to pull it together, because if Hen already noticed something was wrong, Buck will definitely notice, and Eddie will be damned if he’s the one to wipe Buck’s smile off his face. He squashes everything down — including Frank’s voice echoing that he can’t keep ignoring how he’s feeling — and walks to his locker to get changed.

“Good night last night?” he asks as enthusiastically as he can.

Buck nods. “Yeah, Alex is great. He’s a nurse, he volunteers at an animal shelter on the weekends, supposedly makes a mean chili.”

“Sounds like he’s the whole package,” Eddie says.

Buck’s face does something complicated for a minute, like a dark cloud passes over it, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes afterwards. Eddie’s stomach twists up even worse. He slams his locker closed and faces Buck where he’s bent over tying up his boots.

“Hey,” he says quietly, waits for Buck to meet his eye. “I’m happy for you, you know that right? You deserve someone good who’s gonna give you the world.”

The cloud passes again, but Buck’s smile looks more real afterwards, so Eddie takes it as a win. He claps Buck’s shoulder before leaving the locker room, silently promising to do better, to be there for Buck like he should. He’ll listen to him talk about this Alex guy, he'll be friendly whenever he meets him, he’ll be right by his side at the altar at their wedding if it comes to that, anything that’ll prove that he isn’t going anywhere.

If it means living with more heartache and wrestling with more longing, then fine, he will — it’s a small price to pay for Buck’s happiness.

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock at the door as Eddie clears the last of the dinner plates. He catches Chris’ eye across the counter, who looks just as confused as he is — anyone they’d normally expect either has a key or would have texted first.

“It’s probably some salesman,” Eddie says.

“Or a Girl Scout selling cookies,” Chris says brightly. “If it is, can we get Thin Mints?”

Another knock.

Eddie nods towards the door. “See who it is first, then we’ll negotiate.”

Chris heads off, and hears the familiar sounds of the deadbolt unlocking and the door swinging open before—

“Oh! Hi Buck!”

Eddie pauses where he’s loading the dishwasher. That’s weird — he knows for sure he and Alex had another date tonight (number five to be exact, but he kind of hates that he knows that).

Sure enough, the voice he’d recognize anywhere echoes back to him. “Hey buddy. Am I interrupting dinner?”

“No, we just finished. Come in! Dad’s cleaning up the kitchen.”

Jackets are rustled into place and shoes are kicked off before Buck and Chris round the corner back into the kitchen. Buck’s definitely dressed for a date — deep red button down and those perfect jeans again — but his hair is loose from its gel and falling over his forehead, like he’s been running his fingers through it, which he only does when he’s stressed.

“Hey,” he says. He’s smiling, soft and easy like he usually does in this kitchen, but it’s strained, just a touch, and there’s a slight tremor in his voice.

Hmm.

“Hey,” Eddie says back. “Everything alright? How was the date?”

“It was fine. Short. Sorry I didn’t call first, I was—” he’s fidgeting now, his fingers drumming against his pant leg like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and it clicks for Eddie then that Buck’s not so much stressed as he is nervous. And he’s not sure if it’s from the date or from coming here or what, but he knows he can’t — won’t — let it stand.

“Buck,” he says quietly, stepping forward to place a hand on his shoulder. He can feel his pulse beating like hummingbird wings through his shirt. “It’s okay. You’re always welcome here, day or night, call or no call, no matter what.”

He feels Buck relax underneath his touch. There’s still an energy simmering under his skin that Eddie can practically see, but for now, he thinks this is enough. As long as Buck knows he doesn’t have to be anxious about being here, with his family.

“Well,” Buck says, voice steadier now, “let me be useful, at least. Can I help clean?”

“Nah, I’m almost done.”

“You can help me with my science homework,” Chris says from the kitchen table, pulling out his folders from his backpack. “As long as you read the instructions first.”

Buck laughs and Eddie swears the whole room gets brighter. “Deal. Show me what we’re learning now.”

The rest of the evening is so…normal. Buck and Chris finish homework while Eddie puts the house back together. They pile on the couch and play Mario Kart until they’re eyes go crossed and Chris is falling asleep at the wheel. They get him in bed, together, before flopping back on the couch, slightly tangled up in each other, and it feels so domestic, so good, that Eddie is almost worried he’s dreaming. But underneath the peace, he can tell the gears in Buck’s head are still churning about something, so he mutes the TV and turns his whole body to face Buck.

“Okay. What’s up? You’ve been practically vibrating since you got here.”

Buck doesn’t look at him, instead moving to stand and pace across the living room, still caught up in his thoughts. Eddie wants to help, but he doesn’t want to push too far, so he waits.

“I was really trying with Alex,” Buck says finally, and Eddie wills himself to stay calm, neutral, supportive. If Buck and Alex have called it quits, he is not going to be happy about it.

At least not when Buck’s in the same room.

He keeps going. “He was cute and sweet and funny and he's a nurse, for God’s sake, he’s basically a saint. But something was— he just wasn’t—”

“He wasn’t what?”

Buck sighs, hands moving up to run through his hair again. “He wasn’t enough. And it wasn’t even because of something he did this time!”

Even though the words aren’t directed at him, they still sting, and he almost feels bad for Alex. Almost. It’s overshadowed by the pride Eddie always feels when Buck puts himself first. “Why wasn’t he enough?” he asks.

Buck comes to a stop right in front of Eddie and looks at him, really looks at him, long enough for Eddie to start feeling buzzy himself. And for the first time since he arrived, Buck is still and steady and sure.

“He wasn’t enough because he wasn’t you.”

Eddie’s pretty sure the Earth stops spinning.

“What?” he asks quietly, so he doesn’t break whatever spell he’s fallen under because there’s no way — no way — that Buck meant that the way Eddie wants him to mean it.

“He wasn’t you, Eds,” Buck says like it’s the simplest, most obvious thing anyone has ever said. “I’ve been going on dates for months now, and I keep trying to find someone who makes me feel as safe and cared for and fucking content as I feel when I’m with you and Chris, and no one’s even come close.” He shrugs. “I think you’ve ruined me.” He winces at his word choice. “In a good way. In the best way.”

Eddie’s brain is completely scrambled, held together only by something that feels a lot like hope. “But—the girl who talked about her ex? And the guy that was mean to the waiters?”

“I mean, yeah, there were some bad ones at first. They got better and more normal eventually, but still. No matter how nice they were or how much fun we seemed to be having, all I could think about was how I was one text message away from being where I actually wanted to be.”

So many things are flying through his head — shock, a little fear, that hope that’s still growing brighter and brighter. They’re all going so fast that he can’t make any of them stick long enough to form words, to do something, anything, to show Buck that he feels the same, so he says nothing. Which is the absolute wrong thing to do, because he watches Buck retreat back into his head, curling in on himself like he’s trying to protect all his softest parts.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking anywhere but Eddie, fingers twitching at his sides again. “This is a lot to dump on you like this. I should’ve waited or something, I don’t know—”

That gets Eddie’s ass in gear. He doesn’t think, he just moves, standing and meeting Buck in the middle of the living room and hauling him in by his fancy shirt collar. Eddie crashes their lips together, and Buck freezes for half a second before melting into it, arms coming around Eddie and pulling them together as close as possible. He feels hands roam up his back and soft moans vibrate against his lips, and he’s pretty sure there’s nowhere else he’s ever going to want to be in his life. Buck bites his bottom lip gently and gets a gasp out of him, and he knows for sure that if he were to die here, in Buck’s arms, with the taste of him still lingering on his tongue, he’d die happy.

He hopes he doesn’t, though. They finally found their way here. They’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.

“You’ve ruined me too,” he whispers, pulling far enough away to speak but still close enough to feel every inch of Buck, grabbing hold of this miracle chance to tell him everything he’s been feeling for far too long. “You’re all I want, Buck. All I ever want. And I thought I missed my chance when you started dating again, so I just held on to those little post date moments with you, but—” he brings his hands up to cup Buck’s face, marveling at how perfectly they fit together. “You belong here. With us. Chris and I want you, we need you.”

He barely finishes his sentence before Buck is kissing him again, sweet and syrupy slow but still all consuming, pulling Eddie under and making his heart race. Kissing Buck is everything — fireworks and butterflies and the comfort of being exactly where you’re meant to be. It’s more exhilarating than a rope rescue, easier than breathing. It feels like new beginnings and happy endings and home.

It feels like forever.

They break apart for air, and Eddie realizes he confessed everything except the most important part. “I love you. So much. In case that wasn’t clear.”

Buck’s smile puts any sunny day to shame, and he leans in to trail kisses down Eddie’s jaw, over his chin, and back to his lips, where Eddie wants them to stay forever.

“I love you too,” he says, punctuated with another kiss. “And Chris.” Another. “Like a huge, stupid amount.”

“Not stupid,” Eddie says, resting their foreheads together. “Perfect.”

It really, really is.

~~~~~~~~~~

[from: Buck] eds

[from: Buck] i’m on a date right now

[from: Buck] with the hottest, smartest, kindest, most incredible guy i’ve ever met in my whole life

[from: Buck] so if i don’t text you later

[from: Buck] it’s probably because i’m getting lucky

Eddie rolls his eyes as his phone keeps buzzing, but he can’t help the fond, likely lovestruck smile that creeps across his face. He looks across the table at Buck, who looks damn near angelic in the low light of the Mexican restaurant where everything kind of started, and sees the same smile mirrored back at him. He nudges Buck’s foot under the table with his own and picks up his phone.

[to: Buck] I have it on good authority that you definitely will get lucky if you put your phone down.

There’s a clatter across the table, and Eddie laughs, freer and happier than he can ever remember being.

[from: Buck] done

[from: Buck] no more games

[from: Buck] i’m all yours

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #they're just so dumb #so in love but so dumb #i love them sm #ficcery

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