Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Buck thinks, as he runs towards the ambulance, heart pounding heavy in his ears, screaming Eddie's name, if that gunshot had sent a bullet flying into Eddie, embedding itself into his arm, or leg or perhaps even chest he wouldn't be able to survive it. Not again. He wouldn't be able to tell Chris that his dad got shot, watch as the kid's face falls, and feel any resolve he had slip away. They'd barely made it through the last time, a repeated incident would surely be the thing to finish Buck off.

He rounds the corner, arms windmilling to keep him upright, only coming to a halt in front of Eddie — who’s fine, who's got his hands in the centre of Mitchell’s chest and is pumping them up and down with steady rhythm and a learned calm.

The hand Buck places on Eddie’s shoulder, maybe in relief, maybe as a reassurance that he is actually there — alive and well, gets slapped away by Eddie, who begins reeling off instructions at him, “go grab a crash cart, and help me keep his heart pumping.”

Eddie looks at him eyes wide, like he’s waiting for Buck to run off and do as he says. But Buck is pretty sure he didn't imagine a gunshot, and if it wasn't Eddie that got shot then it must have been Mitchell, “what are you doing, what happened?” he asks, leaning over towards Eddie.

“He shot himself,” Eddie glances away from Mitchell’s chest, “bullet in his brain,” he looks back, “tell the hospital they need a crash team out here. They need to prep an OR,” confused doesn't quite capture what Buck is feeling, surely Eddie — the paramedic — knows that the guy can’t survive a bullet right through his skull.

“Eddie,” Bucks not quite sure what's going through Eddie's head, maybe he’s in denial; he doesn't want to lose someone else, even if they are a psychopath, “he’s dead.”

Eddie doesn't seem at all deterred by that as he continues pumping, looking up at Buck, “but his heart isn't,” Buck finally understands what's happening — Mitchell is giving his heart to his son, to Nolan, “and I need it to stay that way.”

Eddie shouts at him to go, but Buck’s already begun to move, running back into the hospital, relaying all the things that Eddie had already said to him mere moments ago.

Whilst sitting in the waiting room, patiently awaiting any news on whether or not the transplant worked, Buck has a long time to dwell on what happened, and even if he’d rather not, his mind won't stop flitting back to that one fateful moment where the possibility of Eddie having been shot had not been ruled out, having to live without his best friend still a raw thing in his head.

He thinks, faintly, at the back of his mind, somewhere he doesn't really have to listen to, where the thoughts can be written off as stress induced hallucinations, that maybe his feelings go beyond platonic. Whatever he feels towards Eddie is deeper than friendship, goes beyond the norm for two completely straight guys who are just ‘bros’, yet it’s dissimilar to how he’d felt with Ali or Abby, he doesn't have (for lack of a better word) a crush on Eddie. It would be awful if he did; he can barely function around anyone he likes like that, and if that were to happen with Eddie he’d be putting not only himself in danger, but the whole team as well.

He almost doesn't see Nolan’s mum walking into the room, bags under her eyes, but a small smile still floating over her face. Eddie stands up to greet her, looking pensive until she reasures him that the transplant was a success, Nolan is okay. Buck watches Eddie's previously tense shoulders relax, watches as his chest rises and falls at the deep, relieved breath he takes and Buck thinks, this time consciously, that really it's always been Eddie.

Buck is used to getting back to an empty flat. Usually he’s okay with it, enjoying the peace after the more stressful of his shifts, but the sinking feeling that opens up a pit in his stomach threatens to swallow him whole, and he’d give just about anything to have some company, to stop the silence from overwhelming him.

Sleep finds him easily. She pulls him under before he can even realise that he’s closed his eyes. Not that Buck minds, he’d rather not have to think about anything at all.

He figures he must be acting weird at work because the next day, about three hours into their twelve hour shift Eddie corners him by the lockers, “What's up with you?”

There isn't one particular thing that's got him on edge, Maddie’s still not spoken to him, Eddie nearly got fucking shot and that coupled with his more recent revelation regarding a certain someone and feelings makes him want to just fall asleep standing.

“Nothing,” he says, and it’s a half truth.

Eddie just raises an eyebrow, apparently not even needing words to relay his message. He doesn’t believe Buck.

“What,” Buck says, almost defensive, “I meant it.”

Eddie leaves him alone after that, obviously not wanting to keep questioning Buck when he’s not complying. But Buck can’t help how his thoughts drift back, as they do oftentimes, to the grocery store, you’re exhausting, Eddie had said. And it had punched Buck in the gut, leaving him helpless, and even now it comes back, on occasion, never letting him forget those words, delivering another punch knocking any breath out of him.

The bell goes off, and Buck forces his feelings down, like he always does, on the job he can’t afford to be slowed, confused by his own feelings, can’t put someone else at risk because he can’t think straight, because he can’t figure out what he feels towards Eddie — his partner.

It turns out that there was a much lengthier story behind the carjacking. To be honest, Buck isn't overly surprised, the car was unscathed, not a scratch, yet the guy was on the brink of death. He’s glad though, that he didn't have to be involved with it anymore than just digging the guy out, leaving any detective work up to the police. He’s learned to leave it all behind once they've left the scene, it's really the only way he can deal with it all.

It's become somewhat of a tradition that Buck will go round on Thursdays to the Diaz household, to spend time with them both and give Chris a break from takeouts and Eddie's admittedly horrific cooking. Buck knows that he’s been trying to get better at it, but between being a firefighter and a single parent there isn't really that much time for practice, and Eddie needs a lot of practice.

He only stops at his apartment briefly — to shower and change his clothes. As of late, he’s been trying to spend less and less time alone there, trying to avoid the threatening calm, whether that be by taking extra shifts, or hanging around with Albert or Hen more. He’d say it's a success — but when he does have to come back it feels like any prior efforts have been reversed.

He could probably drive to Eddie’s with his eyes closed. He’s been there countless times, Chris and Eddie are like family to him. It's nice, feeling wanted by someone other than his sister, knowing that he's not so alone really.

Chris knows it’s him at the door because, he jumps straight into Buck’s arms as soon as he walks in, “hey there little man,” Buck greets, ruffling his hair, “woah, you've grown loads since I last saw you,” Buck pretends to stumble under his weight. That earns him a giggle from Chris, and — god — that makes Buck giddy with joy.

Eddie’s standing in the doorway, watching the pair with a fond smile. Buck likes to think that it’s directed more at Chris than him, though he doesn't mind, he gets it, the kid is just too damn adorable.

As Buck puts Christopher down, holding him under the arms to make sure he stays upright, Eddie walks over, clapping Buck on the shoulder, “Chris is adamant on watching Tangled.”

Buck looks down at the aforementioned who is grinning up at him wildly, “I like her hair.” They watched Tangled last week, Bucks pretty sure, and if the look on Eddie's face means anything, they’ve watched it several more times over the last week,

“Me too buddy,” he can’t help but grin back.

“I don’t think dad likes it though,” Buck glances at Eddie who just shrugs.

“It’s a good thing I'm here then,” Chris nods and grabs his hand and drags him through to the living room where the DVD has been put in the player and the Tangled start menu is on the screen.

“Homework and dinner first,” Eddie says, ignoring how Chris’ face falls.

“Please?” Chris looks at Eddie with those eyes that Buck still can't say no to. Eddie, however, can, “We’ll do it together, that way it won't take as long, yeah?” He takes Chris by the hand and sits him down at the table.

The homework sheet is on the table, half finished from when Chris had started it before Buck got there. It’s maths homework. Buck cannot do maths — so he offers to make dinner instead. It was always in the plan — Buck cooking, usually though Chris would help him, however Buck’s made the executive decision to start without him, that way they can get to watching the movie faster.

Eddie’s kitchen could use topping up so Buck has to make do with what's left — He makes salmon and broccoli pasta and really, it's not that bad: Chris has eaten it before, and tried a few of the broccoli pieces (even if he did claim to find them ‘disgusting’). He’ll drag Eddie shopping another day.

The food is done in just over half an hour, but Chris isn’t quite done with his homework — he’s got about two problems left; Eddie must take pity on him as (after some convincing) lets him set it aside to be done later. The paper is removed from the table and replaced by three steaming hot bowls of pasta.

As Buck sinks into his usual chair the domesticity hits him — he’s here, at Eddie’s place three maybe four times a week, for regular movie nights or gaming or just simply because they want each others company; he often cooks for them, or picks Chris up from school, like a little fucking family and it makes Buck feel a bit sick, how easily he’s slid into their life, become a part of the Diaz family. He watches them both eat, carefully picking at his own bowl, hoping the food will wash away the lump in his throat. He’s not adverse to them being a family, he kind of wants it, but Eddie doesn't. He will find a girlfriend eventually, and she will do all the things Buck does, and there will be no need for him anymore. They’ll get married and Chris will no longer ask about him, they’ll no longer go on their day trips, or even spend a fraction of time together. He dreads the day.

Eddie meets him in the kitchen once they're done eating. Buck is washing up and Eddie has come in under the pretence of getting a drink, “are you okay? You were a bit quiet earlier?”

Buck doesn’t know what to say, he doesn't want to tell Eddie that he’s jealous of a person that doesn't even exist yet, doesn’t want to tell Eddie how much he and Chris really mean to him. It would probably scare Eddie off, make him draw away from Buck, because surely he must know that this arrangement of theirs isn't forever, Buck is just Eddie's best friend even if Eddie is so much more to Buck.

“I’m fine,” he says, because what he’s really feeling is too complicated to put into words.

Eddie sees right through him, “you sure?” he asks and Buck can’t afford to break down in Eddie's kitchen.

“Yeah,” he brushes past Eddie to go sit with Chris in the living room, hoping that Eddie thinks nothing more of it.

Chris is practically buzzing with excitement when Buck sits down next to him. He’s got the remote clasped in his hand, finger hovering over the play button ready to press as soon as Eddie has stopped shuffling in the armchair on Chris’ other side.

“Ready when you are, mijo,” Eddies says once he's apparently settled down.

Chris starts the movie, mouthing along to Flynn’s opening words, “this is the story of how I died.”

When Rapunzel first starts singing, Buck and Chris both join in, singing along to every single word. Chris’ happy giggles make it all worth it. Buck won't lie to himself, the classic Disney movies are just unbeatable.

He thinks, as they're all watching the movie (even Eddie who claims to have seen it ‘one to many times’), that he has finally figured out what he feels towards Eddie, figured out what makes his stomach drop and causes him to become jealous of purely hypothetical people. Abby and Ali were great, but Buck was never in love with them. At least not in the same way that he’s in love with Eddie. Because he is, in love with Eddie, that is, and the feelings run so deep in him, they make up a part of who he is, flowing through his veins and keeping his heart beating. It's a desperate kind of love, needy and longing, he loves Eddie like he loves oxygen, constantly, even if he doesn't always acknowledge it, it's still there, keeping him alive.

It hits him like a garbage truck, and suddenly he’s struggling to breath, trying his best to not start having a panic attack whilst sitting shoulder to shoulder with Eddie’s fucking kid. He gets up to ‘go to the toilet’, making sure Chris doesn’t pause the movie and wait for him.

In the bathroom he sits on the closed toilet and stares at nothing in particular, willing his breathing to go back to normal. He doesn’t notice the tears until he tastes salt, he’s not quite sure why he’s crying, surely the realisation doesn’t warrant tears; he’s just too pathetic to not cry.

Maybe the water he splashes in his face disguises the red around his eyes, but when he walks back out neither Chris nor Eddie seem to notice the change in his demeanour. Buck doesn’t complain, he can’t let Eddie see that he’s just had a meltdown in the bathroom, can’t let Eddie see that something is wrong. He’s glad to just sit in silence for the rest of the movie.

Getting Chris to bed is a joint affair. Eddie coaxes him up the stairs and into the bathroom; Buck reads him a story (Chris always claims that he does the voices better anyway). But with an immense effort from them both he’s tucked in bed, ready for sleep in less than 20 minutes.

Usually Buck would take the couch after their movie nights, staying over and cooking breakfast the next morning for Chris. It would also allow him and Eddie to just talk, without the threat of anybody else listening in — it was really the only time they ever got alone, and normally Buck would never want to leave, but he instead opts to go straight home because he needs to get used to not being fully dependant on him for everything, he needs to learn how to live on his own.

The universe seems to agree with him as the next day someone from the B-shift calls in sick and Buck jumps at the opportunity to cover the shift. He doesn’t really know anyone from the B-shift, but if it’s helping him be less dependent on the Diaz’s he’ll grin and bear it.

It’s actually rather difficult avoiding Eddie, because he knows what he’s doing — and is actively avoiding him , but avoiding Chris is even harder. Buck misses their video gaming sessions, and he misses Chris helping him in the kitchen, or working on Chris’ homework projects together. He just misses spending time with the little guy, but Buck is going to stick to his word if it's the last damn thing he does. Chris needs to get used to Buck not being around so much, needs to open up a space in his life for Eddie’s future wife, and that’s not ever going to happen if Buck is monopolising so much of their time. So when Eddie messages him, almost daily asking if he’s free to come round, Buck always makes up some kind of excuse which, for the most part, Eddie seems to believe.

In avoiding Eddie, Buck also manages to avoid the rest of the 118. He hasn’t spoken to Hen or Bobby since Thursday, so he’s gone just over a week without speaking to any of them. With Maddie gone the 118 are really Buck’s only family and it feels weird, not talking to them, weirder than it ever felt not talking to his actual family for years. But Buck is a stubborn bastard, so he lets his phone ring out whenever anyone calls him, and pretends he’s not home whenever Eddie starts banging on his door.

It's not that he’s embarrassed of what he’s doing, he would just rather not have to explain it to Eddie — who would probably take offence at it all, would rather not have to vocalise it out loud. Buck is so used to being left, by his parents, Maddie and even Abby, that he knows it’s partly a defence mechanism — removing himself before he can be left again. If Eddie were to leave, to draw away, it would break Buck — cause him to spiral out of control, but Eddie definitely doesn’t need Buck hanging around forever, especially with the feelings that Buck is harbouring. Because Buck can’t watch Eddie fall in love with someone else, watch as his heart is slowly torn to shreds, watch as his whole life fucking disintergrates.

The thing that eventually gets Buck to yield isn’t Eddie’s relentless messaging and requests to hang out (that he does admit to feeling a bit bad about ignoring), isn’t even Eddie, but Chris. He glances down at his phone, which is vibrating incessantly on the table next to him. Buck will say that he saw it by accident, but there are several messages from Eddie’s phone, but very obviously not from Eddie himself. It's several variations of ‘i miss you’ from Chris, and then followed by more messages about how he wants Buck to come back and play video games with them, or watch movies or spare him from his dad’s cooking.

Buck jumps a bit when someone begins pounding on his door. He’s fine with just pretending that he’s not in, but a very familiar voice starts shouting, “Buck we know you’re there!” Chris shouts and it makes Buck’s heart leap into his throat as he’s forced to admit just how much he really missed Chris, missed their time spent together. Buck doesn’t move to answer the door, he’s stuck in the spot, unable to move his feet even if he really wants to.

Chris continues shouting at him, “Buck I brought Mario Kart if you want to play.” Buck doesn’t move, but he hears a shuffle behind the door, then the turn of a key in the lock.

“We're coming in,” it’s Eddie that talks this time. Buck vaguely wonders why Eddie never used the key to just come in before — they gave each other keys for a reason. Maybe Eddie actually believed that he wasn't in. Secretly Buck hopes that’s true.

Chris runs up to him, and hugs Buck who must bend down subconsciously as he’s wrapping his arms around Chris’ neck in return. He must have really missed the kid because Buck doesn’t even move away from the sharp plastic case of the Mario Kart game that's digging into his back. It’s Eddie that breaks them apart — he tells Chris to set up the game in the living room which he happily bounds away to do. Eddie has ulterior motives, because he begins quizzing Buck as soon as Christopher’s out of earshot.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Eddie doesn't even pretend to phrase it as a question.

His eyes rake over Buck, taking in every bit of his facial expression, the way his eyebrows twitch as he attempts to answer, “no,” he says, and it comes out strangled, and too quiet.

“Don’t even try to deny it Evan.” Eddie doesn’t quite look disappointed, but he looks fed up? Disbelieving? Buck’s not sure, but Eddie's not happy.

Buck doesn't say anything; he wouldn't even know what to even say to that.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me if you don't want to, but why? What has brought this on?”

Buck doesn't know if he should tell Eddie, doesn’t know how he might react. What if he agrees with Buck, what if he says Buck is right; he wants to start dating again. Everything would become real, tangible. If Eddie left Buck would have no one, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to make that a reality. But, at the same time, doesn’t Eddie deserve to know? Buck should tell him that he’s got Bucks support whatever happens.

“I, erm,” he stumbles, unsure how to put it into words, “I just thought that—” Buck pauses. How on earth does he say this without making him look like an asshole? thought that I should back off because I’m jealous of your girlfriend who doesn't even exist. God he’s awful.

“Thought that?” Eddie prompts.

“Am I intruding?” Buck asks, continuing in before Eddie can get a word in, “I feel like I’m with you and Chris more than I’m in my own apartment, and I just— If I’m around too much please just tell me I won't be offended I swear. I can back off if you want. And, you broke up with Ana a while ago, if you want to get back out into the dating world, don't let me stop you because I can’t take a hint, because I can’t just leave you guys alone.”

He doesn’t dare look up at Eddie, doesn’t dare see how his face is twisted into some emotion that Buck really doesn't want to see. He’s mentally preparing himself for having to say goodbye, for spending one last game with Chris when Eddie reaches for his arm which is crossed over his chest — protecting his heart.

“Buck,” he looks up, finally. Eddie looks— he looks sad. There's a crease between his brows and a glimmer of something in his eyes. The gaze he had trained on Buck trains over his face, no doubt taking in how fucking scared Buck looks.

“Dios mio,”Eddie mutters, low and breathy, “of course you're not intruding. Do you really think I would invite you round so often if I didn't want you there?” he looks right at Buck, like he’s searching for answers in blue eyes.

“I— I don’t know,” Buck trails off, feeling stupid for even having said anything in the first place. He should have never even brought it up. All he wants is for the ground to open up beneath him, never let him see the light of day again.

“And Chris — Chris loves you,” he speaks louder this time, waving a hand at the closed door that leads to the living room, “he wants you around. I want you around, okay?” He says, quieter, and Buck has no option but to look Eddie back in the eye and nod.

“And I’m not looking to date someone new right now, I want some time with just Chris, me and you.” Eddie continues, voice hushed, cheeks flushed like it embarrassed him just talking about it.

“I—” Buck begins to answer but is interrupted by the kitchen door opening slightly.

Eddie drops Bucks arm hastily, like he didn’t want Chris to see. Buck doesn’t really want to think about what that might mean, even if he did he wouldn't have any time to because Chris is dragging them both to sit down, “guys Mario is ready come on.”

Buck gets the controller first. He wipes any pain off his face and ruffles Chris’ hair, “ready to get thrashed?” He grins down at Chris who just elbows him in the side.

Buck enjoys it more than he probably should, playing video games with a 10 year old. But he likes listening to Chris giggle whenever he overtakes Buck, or hear the quiet noises of concentration that often comes from beside him.

If he lets Chris win the game, no one says anything, besides the look of utter delight on Chris’ face makes it all worth it.

“Winner stays on,” Chris calls. Buck reluctantly hands the controller over to Eddie, but he's pretty sure that he’ll have it back by the next round because Eddie is awful at Mario Kart.

It’s a Friday, so Eddie — who is still slightly soft for Chris’ puppy dog eyes — will definitely let him stay up a bit later than usual. And Buck is fine with that, fine with Chris staying up way past his bedtime, just as long as Eddie doesn’t get the chance to attempt to finish their previous conversation. Buck doesn’t know what to say, he’s already laid out his biggest insecurities in front of Eddie so forgive him for not wanting to revisit it all.

He watches Eddie and Chris race it out on Mario Kart, and tries not to think about how — if only — he and Eddie were together, this would be the epitome of a family activity. He knows that if Eddie ever finds out about his stupid feelings this would all be over, but sometimes he wants to indulge himself, let himself imagine what it could be. Buck pretends that his heart doesn’t beat faster when he sees the tip is Eddie’s tongue poke out from in between his teeth, or when he reaches up to brush the hair out of his eyes when the first race is done.

Buck’s right though, Eddie is shit at Mario, so the controller gets tossed to him at the beginning of the next round. “You’re going down,” it’s an empty threat, but it makes Chris smile and lean into Buck’s side as the game starts to attempt to throw him off. Buck calls out cheating but Chris’ giggles are so loud that he can’t even find it in himself to care.

There are eyes on him all throughout the first game. Buck can feel them, burning into the side of his face and he can’t help but feel a little self conscious under Eddie’s stare.

Eddie only sends Chris to bed at about 10 o’clock, when he yawns so hard that his character in the game falls off the road, “I think it's time for bed now mijo,” and he must be tired as he doesn’t even protest.

There is no bed for Chris in Buck’s apartment. He thinks that maybe he has almost gotten away with avoiding the conversation as Eddie goes to put Chris in the backseat of the truck, but Eddie comes back to get Buck before they can drive off, “your coming too, Buck.” He doesn't argue, just climbs in the passenger seat next to Eddie, and lets the quiet music from the stereo wash over him.

By the time they get to Eddie’s place Chris is fast asleep. Buck gets out to open the front door while Eddie carries the sleeping child in. It makes Buck feel weird, almost nostalgic despite the fact that no one ever carried him after he became a toddler. He is happy for Chris, that he gets to grow up with such a loving father, loving family — every child deserves as much, and Buck is forever grateful that Eddie is letting him be a part of Chris’ life.

He takes a seat on the couch and waits for Eddie to come back down after putting Chris to bed. He knows that Eddie isn't finished talking to him yet, if the pointed glance that had been directed his way earlier means anything. It’s not that he’s scared or anything, but he is definitely sweating a bit at what he knows is about to come. Buck’s never been in a similar situation before, never been so completely and utterly enamoured with someone — especially his best friend. It's hopeless really, pathetic, that he’s even let it escalate so far in the first place.

The sound of Eddie’s footsteps descending the stairs can be heard from above him and Buck sits up, adjusting his shirt and sweeping a stray hair from his eyes.

“Chris is fast asleep,” Eddie begins, taking a seat next to Buck on the other side of the couch. Buck notices that he leaves a rather large space between them; it’s disheartening, before they used to sit so close with their shoulders and thighs pressed up against each other, now Eddie’s not even close enough to brush knees with him. He thinks that maybe drawing away worked, Eddie has also realised that Buck is too dependant on him, realised that Buck needs to get his own life.

Buck swallows, he thinks Eddie hears it, “Good, he was exhausted.”

“He hasn't seen you in ages, of course I let him stay up later. He missed you a lot, y’know.” Buck definitely does not notice how his heart lurches in his chest. “I missed you too.”

“Yeah?” It slips out, just another product of Buck’s endless self-consciousness.

“What even made you think otherwise?” Eddie twisted round, his torso facing Buck, one leg on the couch, the other dangling off.

Being truthful, Buck isn’t sure. It crept up on him. One minute it wasn't there, the next, it was all he could think about. He says as much to Eddie, “I don’t know,” but when Eddie doesn't reply he feels obliged to continue, “I just— I’m barely ever on my own, I’m either at the fire house or with you, and I just thought that maybe I’m over too often, and maybe you want a break.”

“And the dating thing?” Eddie asks, probing.

“I’m not sure, I thought that maybe you want Chris to have a mom, not me.” Buck can’t hear himself speak, he doesn’t want to acknowledge the words coming out of his mouth, doesn’t want to think too hard about it.

Eddie doesn’t say anything; for a while it’s just the two of them, tension thick and palpable in the room. Buck chances a glance, up, at Eddie. He looks more confused than much else, his lips are pursed and his brows are furrowed — Buck wants to reach out and smooth the crease with his thumb, to gently brush it across Eddie’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while, wanting to stop his line of thought rather than actually say anything aloud.

“Don’t be,” Eddie says, the crease between his brows melting away, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“But I—” pulled away? Avoided you? Fucking fell in love with you?

Eddie gently cuts him off “But nothing.”

“Buck, I’m not quite sure what caused all of this, but it’s not true — any of it.” If Bucks eyes are brimming with tears Eddie doesn’t notice, thankfully.

“Thank you,” it’s more of a whisper, but it’s all Buck can manage without his voice breaking.

“You're not working this weekend, right?” Eddie says and Buck is glad for the change in subject, albeit rather curt.

“No, why?”

“Chris has been asking about the zoo recently. I think he’s been learning about exotic animals in geography class, and he’s now insistent on going to see the lions.”

Buck knows this is Eddie’s way of asking him to come with them. It shouldn't make him this scared really, they used to always do similar outings, it doesn’t make sense why this one in particular should make his heart beat fast in his chest.

“Is that an invite,” Buck can’t help but grin at Eddie, settling back into an easy familiarity.

“Do you want it to be?” Eddie returns the grin.

“God yes.”

"Good."

Chapter Text

Chris wakes bright and early, stomping down into the kitchen and thus waking Buck from where he is sleeping on the couch. He and Eddie had stayed up late the night prior just talking about nothing in particular; it’s no different from what they used to do — stay up for hours, talking and never getting bored, never feeling like they could run out of things to talk about.

“Buck,” Chris drags out his name for several beats, standing over where he’s currently curled up on the too-small couch.

“I’m up,” he says, rubbing his eyes, “I’m up.”

Chris is grinning at him so hard that his eyes are squinted almost shut and Buck can nearly see all of his teeth. It startles Buck at first, that Chris has got the frying pan clasped in front of him and is holding it out to him, but he soon realises what Chris wants.

“Pancakes?” He asks and Chris nods enthusiastically, Chris drags his legs off the sofa-bed and Buck has to pray he doesn’t fall asleep standing.

Buck follows Chris into the kitchen, Eddie’s kitchen. Chocolate chip pancakes are Chris’ favourite, Eddie would joke that he always finds a way to add more sugar into his breakfast, but he’d always end up caving to Chris’ smile and pleading eyes anyways. The kid is smart, Buck can give him that, he knows exactly how to push Eddie and Buck around so he gets what he wants, but Buck doesn’t really see the harm in that. As long as Chris is happy he’s happy.

It's weird. Buck probably knows his way around Eddie’s kitchen better than Eddie himself, but considering the fact that Eddie seldom ever cooks Buck’s not particularly surprised. Even so, he can’t help the aching in his chest that seems to be a constant these days.

“Okay,” he says when all the ingredients have been lined up on the countertop, “are you going to help me measure.”

“Yeah!” He’s made this particular pancake recipe with Chris more than a dozen times before so Chris almost knows all the measurements without even having to ask Buck. He scoops out a cup of flour and deposits it into the bowl which has been dubbed by Chris as the ‘pancake bowl’.

The flour puffs up when it hits the silver side and Buck watches fondly as half of it goes on the counter and in Chris’ hair rather than in the bowl. Chris doesn’t seem to care as he continues on after rubbing any flour from around his eyes.

Once Chris is fed up with cooking, Buck takes over whisking the batter, and heating the pan on the stove because Eddie would actually kill him if he let Chris do that by himself.

While the first pancake is cooking Chris talks his ear off with random animal facts. It's endearing really, just how excited he is to go to the zoo, to see all the giraffes — which are definitely Chris’ favourite animal — if the amount of facts he’s heard over the past 15 minutes means anything. Buck is also looking forward to the zoo, maybe he’s not so obviously giddy with excitement but he’s ready for spending quality time with the Diazes.

Eddie comes down just as Chris is bullying Buck into flipping the first pancake. He’s got his arms raised in a stretch and his old shirt rides up a bit. Buck definitely doesn’t let his eyes linger at Eddie’s midriff for too long; he’s just grateful that he wasn’t actually flipping the pancake because if he were he would have dropped it.

He caves to Chris’ relentless chanting of ‘flip it’ and the pancake just lands back in the pan. It’s a bit off an odd looking one, but the first pancake is always a bit weird, even so he puts it on his own plate and flips another one for Chris.

They all end up with a stack of about three pancakes each, and a couple on the floor much to Chris’ delight. They’ll clean the kitchen once Christophers pancake craving has been satisfied. Eddie does try — in vain — to stop Chris from drenching his pancakes in syrup or have them with some fruit, but Chris is nothing if stubborn so eats them drenched in syrup anyway.

“Can we see the giraffes first?” Chris asks through a mouthful of pancake.

“Sure buddy.” Bucks not sure if Eddie has even properly woken up yet. His hair is still mussed, and those are definitely pillow creases on his cheeks. Buck would be lying if he said the sight of Eddie, just rolled out of bed, unshaven and looking slightly ruffled doesn’t make his heart jump in his chest, doesn’t pull at his feelings in a way that makes him need a moment to be able to look back up and face everyone.

As soon as Chris is done he rushes to go and get ready, convinced that the quicker he gets ready the quicker they’ll be able to get to the zoo.

He’s right, for the most part at least. Eddie and Buck are ready much faster than Chris, Eddie dressed, and Buck with their bag full of supplies for the day. Between the pair of them they’d covered everything that could be needed in any situation. One could argue that it’s overkill, but Buck would say they're just prepared. They're waiting for Chris to come down so they can all get in Eddie’s truck and drive.

They get there about five minutes before opening time. Chris is in the backseat, rubbing in sunscreen that Eddie forced him to put on, endless animal facts falling out of his mouth. Once the sunscreen has been adequately applied, Chris makes Buck take up a map of the zoo on his phone. The Giraffes are on the other side of the park, but even so Chris insists that they must visit them first.

Eddie had purchased the tickets the day before, so he’s got them up and ready on his phone as they walk through the gates. They pass a souvenir shop that Buck knows they’ll have to spend at least half an hour in later, but Christopher doesn’t seem to notice it yet, he's moving as quickly as possible to where he knows the Giraffe enclosure is.

“Look at them!” Chris points in awe as their necks become visible over the treetops.

Chris spends a very long time admiring the giraffes. Luckily there is a bench at the back of the viewing area, Buck takes a seat right next to Eddie on it while they both keep an eye on Christopher, making sure he’s safe.

Buck has to admit, it's quite impressive. As a child he’d always had a penchant for animals like the tigers or lions, but he never got the chance to see them, not through anything other than a screen or picture. And by all means this isn't Buck’s first time at the zoo, but it feels different, special somehow.

“I think we should get a picture of him with the giraffes,” Eddie says, nodding towards Chris, “for the memories.”

“You go up, I’ll take one of the two of you.” Buck gets up, taking his phone out of the bag, “Maybe you can stick it on the fridge.” There's loads of pictures on the Diaz fridge, mainly of Chris, or related to Chris’ achievements. There's a few with Eddie in, or Abuela and the rest of the extended Diaz family, but there’s only one with Buck in it. It’s Buck and Chris, covered in flour, and grinning wildly in the kitchen. He thinks they were making Eddie a birthday cake, but he’s not quite sure, Eddie wasn’t even supposed to be in the kitchen so Buck doesn’t know how he even got the photo, but everytime he walks past it his eyes are drawn to how happy they look, how natural.

Eddie sidles up to Chris, standing behind him with his hand on Chris’ shoulders. The giraffes can be seen clearly in the background, and Buck thinks it's going to be a damn good picture.

“3, 2, 1, say cheese,” he counts down, and manages to snap a picture just as Chris begins to laugh. He admires his camera work before going to show the picture to Eddie.

“Your turn,” Eddie claps him on the shoulder and slips Buck’s phone out of his hand, angling it at Buck and Chris.

There are a couple of other people that move away from them as Eddie goes to take the picture, he is standing next to Chris, one hand on his shoulder, the other down by his side. He’s lent down so that his and Chris’ faces are on the same level and smiles his best smile as Eddie goes to take the photo.

It’s a great picture actually — they look happy, it shows on their faces and there’s warm sunlight glinting in Chris’ golden hair.

Eddie is back at Chris’ side, ruffling his hair, listening to him talk, no doubt more random animal facts and Buck is so captured looking at the picture that he doesn’t even notice the woman coming up behind him.

“Let me take one of all three of you,” she said, causing Buck to jump just a little, “get the whole family in one, hey?” Buck doesn’t know what to say, should he correct her? Tell her that he’s not part of their family, just Eddie's friend that tags along with them.

“It’s uh—” he begins to try to correct her, not sure what to actually say, but trying nonetheless, when she just smiles at him, gently pushing him towards Chris and Eddie, who’s looking at him now with his brow creased in concern.

“It’s no problem at all, go.” She is firm, unwilling to change her mind, Buck can tell that just from the few words she speaks, so he walks towards Eddie, who raises a brow at him. Buck shrugs because he’s not sure what to say, especially with Christopher standing there.

“Get in closer,” she calls to them all. Buck is standing off to the side a bit, too awkward to actually move.

“Buck,” that’s Christopher, “come on,” he grabs Buck's wrist, and Buck has no choice but to lean into him, and thus, lean into Eddie.

“Okay, now smile,” she says, taking far too many photos that Buck is going to have to spend ages going through.

She gives them a thumbs up and their huddle breaks apart, Christopher moves forwards to try and see the photo that the woman is holding out on Buck’s phone. The phone, however, is given to Eddie, who bends down and scrolls through all of the photos to show Chris, while the woman walks over to Buck.

“Thank you,” he says, and he really means it. Buck doesn’t have many pictures with both Eddie and Chris, someone always having to step out to take the photo. It's usually just Chris with an adult or by himself, never the three of them.

“You have a lovely family,” she beams at him. Buck freezes, unsure what to say, heart pounding in his throat. He’s not oblivious, he knows what they look like whenever they go out as a three, he knows what people think, but no one ever says anything to his face about it. Would it be weird to say what they actually are — not a family, or should he just smile graciously and accept it?

“And an adorable son,” she continues.

He doesn’t notice Eddie until there’s an arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a familiar person, “thanks,” Eddie says, running his fingers gently up and down where they rest on Buck’s arm, “he’s great isn’t he,” Eddie says, looking over at Chris who’s attentions been piqued by the flamingos.

“Yeah,” Buck says, and it comes out hoarse, more of a whisper than anything else.

“Well, don't let me stop you from enjoying your visit,” she says, turning to walk back to her family.

“Thank you, again,” Eddie calls, letting his arm drop from Buck’s shoulders.

Buck pretends he doesn’t miss the warmth of it, or the stable feeling of Eddie pressed up next to him, pretends that his heart isn’t racing or that he wants nothing more than for this family thing they've got going to become a reality.

“I’m sorry,” he says to Eddie as they are walking over to the flamingo enclosure. His voice doesn't break this time.

“What for?” Eddie turns to look at him and it makes Buck feel even more pathetic. He shouldn't be this in love with his best friend, shouldn’t have the breath knocked out of him when the sun catches perfectly behind Eddie’s head like a fucking halo.

“I don’t know,” the floor suddenly becomes very interesting, “she thought we were a family, and I—” Buck tries to look up at Eddie, but the look on his face makes Buck wish he didn't, “I didn’t correct her.”

They’ve reached Chris now. He’s got his face pressed up against the netting, trying to look at the flamingos closer.

“Neither did I.”

Buck is confused by that, “What—”

“I didn’t correct her when she said that our son is adorable,” Eddie looks at Buck, eyes earnest and searching like he wants to say something more but can't bring himself to.

“But it’s different. You're his dad, I’m just,” he can’t finish the thought, can’t unearth all his biggest insecurities in the middle of the LA zoo.

“Just what?” Eddie is looking at him and it's so careful, so fucking caring that Buck cannot stand it.

“Nothing,” he says firmly, clear that they are not going to talk more on the matter until they're at Eddie's place later.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else; he just shakes his head and Buck can’t quite figure out what that means.

At about 4pm Chris is obviously very tired, he still walks around, but his feet drag against the floor and he leans into Eddie when they stand to watch the animals. Buck thinks that it was actually a good idea, starting from the back of the park, because at the end of the day, when Chris is too tired to walk far they're right near the entrance.

They don't leave until Chris has been bought a giraffe plush which he’s named Gina because of the alliteration. Buck also leaves with a matching Giraffe plush which Chris has ever so kindly named Greg for him. Apparently they’re ‘matching BFF teddies’, and if that doesn’t hit Buck in the chest right where it hurts, nothing else will.

It takes a lot of coaxing from Eddie to get Chris out of the backseat in the truck and into the house, but he eventually manages and Chris dawdles in, clutching Gina close to his chest.

Eddie lets him nap in his room until dinner time. It’s just pizza, Buck can’t be bothered to cook, can’t be bothered to do much of anything really, and besides Eddie and Chris love their ‘pizza Saturdays’. Eddie knows his order off by heart and that shouldn't take him by surprise, they have pizza often enough together that its not really that odd, but Bucks an overthinker if nothing else and it makes him feel weird, when Eddie appears from the kitchen, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder, relaying all their orders like it’s second nature to him.

The smell of pizza must wake Chris from his nap because as soon as Eddie opens the boxes, Chris is peering in from behind the kitchen door.

They all eat probably too much pizza. But Buck can’t lie, it’s nice; sitting in front of the television with his two favourite people just across from him, all just enjoying each other's company.

Chris yawns around a bit of pizza, a long loud one and Buck doesn’t blame him. It’s been a long day, he himself is knackered.

“Bed soon mijo,” Eddie says.

Chris tries his hand at protesting, but he doesn’t get very far with it, “no, I’m not tired. I swear,” the last words are quiet and slurred, contradicting the point he is trying to make.

“I don’t think so.” Eddie shakes his head fondly, “we’ll all go upstairs after you’ve finished that slice.”

“Will you read me a story,” he says to the room, and Buck knows that means they’ll have to read him at least one each.

“If you’re good.” And it seems to convince Chris because, after putting his plate in the kitchen, he heads straight upstairs.

They end up reading him three stories, one from Eddie, two from Buck, but only because — according to Chris — he does the voices better. It again forces Buck to think about how, even now they act like a family, and how much he wants it.

“Today was good,” Buck says as Eddie hands him a beer from the fridge; it’s just the two of them, alone on the couch, some show playing on low volume in the background.

“It was,” Eddie’s unusually quiet but Buck knows better than to ask, he would rather bask in the brief joy that is him and Eddie in a companionable silence. Let Eddie’s presence wash over him, the feeling of his shoulder pressed against Buck grounding him, even taking pleasure in how it speeds his heart or causes his cheeks to flush. Because Buck has accepted it, embraced it even, that he’s completely and hopelessly in love with Eddie.

There's a moment where no one speaks, and Buck takes the time to really look around him, at the familiar four walls of the Diaz living room, the door leading into the kitchen and the stairs. Buck thinks he prefers it here, not just because of the people but because it’s more homely than Buck’s apartment will ever be, it still smells new, unlived in, but his apartment can’t really become ‘lived in’ when there's no one there with him.

“That woman today,” Eddie starts, and he’s not looking at Buck, but staring at his thumbs moving in circles around each other.

“The one who took our photo?” Buck doesn’t know where Eddie is going with this, half of him doesn’t want to know.

“She, uh—” Eddie pauses, “she thought we were a family right?”

“She did,” Buck is trying his best to stop the worry from seeping into his voice. If this is Eddie asking him to step back, or telling him that he doesn't want this anymore, it might actually be the end of Buck.

“I was thinking,” Eddie seems to be choosing his words carefully, enunciating each one, “that maybe we could be?” He says it like a question, unaware of how Buck’s brain has just overloaded.

The sharp twinge of pain coming from his right thigh only goes to prove that he isn’t dreaming, he winces slightly, removing his hand and bringing it up and clasping the other in his lap. If he’s not dreaming he must have misunderstood Eddie, horribly and horrifically because otherwise he might think that Eddies asking him to—

“Why? Because you can’t parent him by yourself anymore?” The only way he knows how to deal with these things is through humour so he angles for a joke, but it falls flat.

“No—” abruptly Eddie pulls his hands apart and shoves them under his legs, probably to stop the incessant thumb twiddling Buck assumes, “because I—” he spins to face Buck on the couch, “because I don’t think I can do this without you,” he gestures around the room with his hands.

Eddie really isn't making things better for himself because Buck is really starting to think that Eddie is saying something else, “be careful Eddie or I’ll think—” Buck cannot do this right now.

“Dios mio,” Eddie mutters, and Buck doesn’t have time to think before there are lips on his.

If he loves Eddie like oxygen, then Buck must be a fire. Because Eddie is right there, in front of him, lips sliding sweetly across Buck’s own, stubble rubbing against Bucks cheek, and Buck feels like he’s about to burst, like he’s going to explode, like all the tiny fragments of him will scatter everywhere and — somehow — it will be a relief from the intense heat that is consuming him as he kisses Eddie back.

It’s desperate, needy, and Buck’s heart might not even be working anymore, but he couldn't care less because Eddie is finally kissing him; it’s like all his dreams from the past month have been combined into one single moment, and yet it still tops anything he could have ever imagined.

It’s Eddie that pulls back first, wide eyes searching Buck, asking was that okay?

Buck answers by pulling their lips together again.

When they pull apart again due to a mutual need for air Eddie stops him from delving straight back in, “is that a yes? Do you—” Eddie grasps at his own knee, fingernails digging deep into the flesh, “do you want to be a part of our family, for real.”

Buck doesn’t know why Eddie bothers asking in the first place, surely the answer is obvious, “Of course I do.”

“Good,” Eddie’s answering smile could outshine a thousand suns.

“I think we should wait before we tell Chris though,” Buck says, and it’s not because he’s scared of what the reaction might be, or because he thinks that Chris wont like it, but because it's not guaranteed to last forever — nothing is, and while Buck is as sure as he can be that — for him — this is it. No other relationship will top this one, they will cower under Eddie’s blinding bright light, fall to pieces in comparison, because Buck wants this, has wanted this, for, he thinks, longer than he even knows.

“Maybe,” Eddie says. Buck knows that Eddie introduced Ana to Chris a week into dating, which did not go well even if Chris did grow to like her, Buck wouldn’t ever want Chris to feel that way about Eddie and him.

“I don’t know how he’s gonna take it,” Buck says. It’s been playing on his mind, Chris. Because Chris is such an integral part of Eddie’s life, he comes before anyone, Buck included, and if it didn’t go well with Chris then really was there any point in carrying on a relationship?

“He loves you, Buck,” Eddie leans across to take Buck’s hand in his own, rubbing slow careful circles on the back of his palm.

It is true, Buck and Christopher are inseparable, practically joined at the hip, “as your best friend, not boyfriend,” he’s not sure why he’s being so adamant on disagreeing with Eddie. Especially when Eddie’s trying to reassure him.

“He’d love you no matter what,” and Buck has to trust him because the only person that knows Chris better than Buck is Eddie.

Their first official date is postponed several times. First, Chris gets ill and sitting by his bedside, stroking his hair as he throws up in a bucket isn’t all that romantic. Then Maddie comes back and it’s this whole big thing that means Buck just doesn’t have the energy to go out properly. He’s fine with staying at Eddies for video games and pizza, and then when Chris is fast asleep upstairs and they’ve exhausted themselves just talking downstairs,instead of taking the couch Buck slides into bed next to Eddie. And it's all horribly domestic really, it doesn’t feel like the new, tentative relationship they're both so used to, it feels practised and natural; Buck thinks that maybe it is, all the times he’s stayed over, gone out with Chris and Eddie, is no different to what they would do — as an actual family.

It takes them a whole month to finally book a restaurant for dinner. The dress code is semi-formal and Buck spends an embarrassingly long time picking out a suitable outfit (which ends up being a simple shirt and pants), then spends even longer staring at himself in the bathroom mirror and attempting to style his hair with the limited products he has in his bathroom.

Eventually, he gives up — it’s Eddie he’s going out with, and Eddie’s seen him at his worst, he’s not going to care if several pieces of Bucks hair keep falling into his eyes.

Eddie picks him up in the truck, under the guise of being ‘a gentleman’, but Buck knows he really just wants to get to drive them both there.

Eddie’s dressed coincidentally similar to Buck, in a complementary coloured shirt, but the same colour pants, even so it knocks the breath out of Buck and he’s forced to remember just how goddamn attractive Eddie is.

They drive in silence; it's not unpleasant or awkward, just there, almost familiar. It doesn’t make the hairs on the back of Buck’s neck prickle like silences usually do, and he’s fine just to sit and breathe in tandem with Eddie as the soft rock ballad from the radio drifts over them.

It gives Buck time to think, dwell on how this is all actually happening, he’s managed to score a fucking fairytale like ending with his best friend. It’s the kind of cliche that would have Buck tearing up in a movie, spouting blubbery nonsense about how it’s all just so perfect, but now he gets to live it. And if Buck thinks about it too hard, he’ll start bawling his eyes out in Eddie’s car.

The truck stops but neither of them make a move to get out. It’s not that Buck doesn’t want to go out on a date with Eddie, but this all just feels too formal for them, they’re used to the domesticity of home cooked meals and movie nights, not semi-formal restaurants that snooty business men seem to flock around.

“This feels wrong somehow,” Eddie starts, abruptly turning to him, “do you want to go home, spend the night in?” It’s like he reads Buck’s mind.

“Lets,” Buck says, and turns to meet Eddie's eye.

When he was younger Buck would always imagine this situation, always play it out in his mind — it would be him and a faceless, genderless person sitting together, somewhere a bit nicer than a restaurant car-park, maybe on a beach, or in a cottage somewhere up in the snowy mountains; there would be silence until one of them spoke and then the world would explode with colour, soft violins serenading them in the background but even so, it would all melt away around them.

However, when Eddie says it, “I love you, Evan,” he feels foolish for ever having imagined it any other way, because it’s somehow more infinitely perfect than anything Buck could have begun to imagine before, and maybe cherry blossoms don’t start raining down between them, or fireworks don’t explode in the distance, but it makes Buck’s heart stutter all the same, still takes Buck’s breath away and leaves him winded, sitting in the same passenger seat in Eddie’s truck that he’s sat in countless times before.

“I think we should tell Chris,” he says, because he’s been in love with Eddie for forever, because he can’t ever see himself loving anyone else like he loves Eddie, but when he really needs to vocalise it the words just die in his throat, and he can’t say them no matter how hard he tries.

“Me too,” Eddie says, and they leave the restaurant without even having stepped in the doors.

“You guys are back early,” Carla exclaims when they both walk through the door.

“We decided that we’d rather be here, with Chris,” Eddie ruffles the aforementioned’s hair.

“Chris and I were just about to watch a movie, weren't we?” She says, smiling at the boy.

“Yeah, Carla was showing me this other Disney movie, Coco.” Buck is only vaguely familiar with that one, which is understandable considering the only Disney movies he ever watches are when he’s with Chris.

“Sounds great mijo, we can’t wait to see it” Eddie says, finally taking his hand out of Chris’ hair, he then turns to face Carla, “you don’t have to stay if you don’t want.”

“I think I’ll leave you boys,” she says, winking at Eddie as she goes to take her purse from where it lays on the table.

“I’ll see you on Monday Chris,” Carla calls out as she’s about to leave.

“Bye-bye Carla,” Chris shouts back just before the door closes.

“Dad, can we watch Coco now?” Chris asks, beckoning them both towards the couch.

“Sure mijo,” and Eddie lets himself be pulled there. They sit either side of Chris, the boy squeezed between them, buzzing with excitement.

Just as the movie is starting Eddie looks over and catches Bucks eye. He looks so determined and Buck knows he’s trying to figure out what to say to Chris, and summoning the courage to say it.

Buck doesn’t really watch the movie, just lets it play out in front of his eyes, not quite taking any of it in; he’s stuck in his own head, thoughts whirring round in circles, full of what ifs? that are not at all feasible.

“Christopher,” Eddie starts as soon as the ending credits have played out, “Buck and I have something we want to tell you.”

Chris hums in response, not really listening to his dad, “Chris,” Eddie says, and there's an edge to his voice that makes both Buck and Chris look at him with concern.

“I’m listening, I’m listening,” he says, looking at Eddie first, then Buck.

“And when we tell you we want you to be 100 percent truthful about how you feel, okay?” Eddie says, his voice careful, laced with concern and apprehension.

“Okay,” Chris sounds sceptical but Eddie carries on anyway.

“Buck and I are together.” Buck swallows, audibly, and Eddie looks him right in the eyes, gaze intense, and Buck nods at him because this is fine, completely fine, it’s not like everything could all go really wrong and Chris could never want to speak to him ever again, “like how Ana and I were together.”

Buck braces himself for any reaction whatsoever, but all Chris says is, “okay.”

It must take Eddie by surprise as well because he stutters for a moment, “is that all?”

“Weren’t you already together,” Chris shrugs like he isn't the sole reason Buck and Eddie’s jaws are on the floor.

“Wha—” Eddie tries to school his expression, “how—”

“I got up to get water two weeks ago and I saw you on the couch, kissing,” Christopher looks unimpressed, “I didn’t want water after that.”

“And you're— you're okay with it?” Eddie looks just about as shocked as Buck feels. They surely hadn’t been working themselves up over this when Chris already knew?

“Why wouldn’t I be,” Chris still looks indifferent, like he’s waiting for the shocking part.

“You—” Eddie starts before shaking his head, “remember what happened when I told you about Ana.”

“But it’s Buck,” Chris says, like it’s obvious, like Eddie and Buck are being stupid.

“And?” Eddie probes.

“And I like Buck.”

“But you liked Ana.”

“Mrs Flores isn’t my bestfriend, Buck is. And besides he’s better,” Chris says it so matter of fact that Buck has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. Sure enough, he’s not.

“So you’re okay with this?” He gestures at the space between him and Buck.

“Yes, as long as you don’t kiss in front of me,” Chris turns his attention back to the television, “can we watch another movie?”

And that's it. Neither Eddie or Buck try to push it, Chris accepts it, and has accepted it a while ago.

It’s weird, Buck thought that Chris knowing would change everything, almost change the nature of their relationship, but it doesn’t. The only thing that really differs now is how Eddie will hold his hand during movie nights, or let Buck curl up next to him, or occasionally kiss the back of Buck’s neck when Chris is not looking. Oh, and they take a lot more family photos now.

The fridge that used to just be Chris and Eddie is now Chris and Eddie and Buck, always smiling so wide and bright that Buck’s eyes hurt just looking at them. The photo of them next to the giraffes is pride of place in the centre of all the other papers, and Buck’s face hurts so much from smiling whenever he walks past it, because this is it, this is finally it.