Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Buck was a kid, his mom had a fish tank. Not just any fish tank, a massive 65 gallon world of its own, teeming with vibrant, darting life. Tropical fish in impossible colours swam lazy loops through the water, their tails flicking, their movements hypnotic. 

He used to sit in front of the glass, knees pulled up to his chest, watching them glide past like they had a secret language he wasn’t privy to.

He loved them. 

And he hated them.

The tank made him sad in a way he didn’t have words for back then. He knew the fish were supposed to be somewhere bigger, in an ocean that stretched forever, in reefs full of endless places to hide and explore.

Instead, they were trapped inside thick glass walls, a whole ocean shrunk down to a few feet, artificial currents replacing the rhythm of real waves.

At least they won’t get eaten by sharks in here, he used to think.

But wasn’t that the point of the ocean? That it was vast and unpredictable, full of beauty but also danger? That out there, beyond what you knew, there were things greater than you, waiting to be discovered?

His mom never seemed to think about the fish like that. For her, the tank wasn’t about where they should be… it was about control. 

About order. 

About keeping something alive.

Buck sometimes thought, she loved her tank more than she loved him.

He never saw her miss a day of maintenance.

Water changes had to be done on a schedule, the filter scrubbed, the temperature monitored, the pH levels checked with meticulous precision. 

She had a whole arsenal of tools and test kits, bottles of conditioner and supplements lined up neatly under the cabinet, each one more important than whatever Buck was trying to tell her at the time.

He wanted to be part of it. If the tank mattered so much to her, maybe if he learned everything about it, he’d matter too.

He went to the library and checked out every book he could find on tropical fish. He memorised their names, what they ate, which ones thrived in groups and which needed space to themselves.

He sat cross legged beside her while she measured ammonia levels, rattling off facts he thought she’d be impressed by… how angelfish cared for their young, how certain species changed colour when they were stressed. 

She would hum vaguely in acknowledgment, never pausing in her work, never really looking at him, then after a few minutes, she’d sigh and wave him off.

“Go play, Evan.”

“Go do your homework.”

“Stop pestering me.”

No matter how hard he tried, she never let him help. Never let him scoop out debris or check the thermometer or even feed them when it was time. 

It was her tank. Her fish.

And Buck, no matter how much he wanted to be, wasn’t part of that world.

The tank was delicate, and his mom treated it with a careful devotion he never saw anywhere else in their house. Every action was precise, methodical, like she cared, really, truly cared about getting it right.

Buck had never seen her love anything like that. Not his dad. Not Maddie.

Not him.

He doesn’t think he’s exaggerating when he looks back on it now.

She really did love that tank more than she loved him.

When Eddie decided Los Angeles couldn’t be home anymore, when he decided to leave, Buck understood. 

Of course, he did.

Christopher was in El Paso. Eddie had to go.

Even if it meant leaving Buck behind.

Even if it meant Buck had to stay.

He’s not alone, not really. He has friends, he has Maddie, people who care about him. But they all have their own lives, their own partners, their own orbits that don’t always align with his.

Buck knows why it hits him so hard. 

Eddie was his. 

Even when they were in relationships, or had things going on in their lives, Eddie was still Buck’s. He was the one who showed up, who stuck around, who fit into Buck’s life like he’d always been meant to be there.

They could spend an evening doing nothing together and somehow, it was everything. Drinking beer and eating takeout, going on runs they both pretended weren’t races, watching whatever was on TV just for the excuse to sit side by side. Using Buck’s grill on his balcony, two idiots who had no business pretending either of them was good at it.  

But now, Buck won’t have that anymore. Won’t have his one person who always, always came running. The person who would load his kid into the car and be at Buck’s door without needing to ask why. Who Buck could drop in on unannounced and never have to wonder if he was welcome.

So, Buck buys a fish tank.

Not as big or fancy as his mom’s, not some subconscious attempt to mimic her way of coping, no matter how much the thought lingers at the edges of his mind. 

He just wants something to look after. Something to keep safe. A presence, however small, that depends on him.

He knows it takes effort, proper water conditions, the right filter, weekly maintenance, but he’s willing to do the work.

He’s determined to do the work. 

He sets up the ten gallon tank the evening Eddie leaves, when the loft feels too empty, too still and the phantom press of Eddie’s last hug goodbye still lingers on his back, warm and weighted, like something he doesn’t know how to let go of.

It takes him a little longer to pick the right fish.

He wants it to be beautiful, something he can watch for hours, something that will take up space the way Eddie used to, without even trying. A creature that will grow comfortable in its new home, that will explore and settle and stay.

In the end, he chooses a betta with long, flowing fins, deep blue with streaks of red that catch the light like silk ribbons in water. 

Majestic, the pet store guy Roy,calls it.

Buck just thinks it looks free.

He does his research, because of course he does, googles how to tell if it’s a boy or a girl, learns something about egg spots between its ventral and anal fins, because apparently, fish have assholes.

He leans in, squints a little too closely at the tiny, shimmering body darting through the water, and… well, he’s still not entirely sure, but the long, elaborate fins make him think it’s a boy.

So, he names him Solace. Sol, for short.

Because that’s what he is.

Warmth, Peace, the embodiment of a quiet companion.

Buck loves him. 

Loves the way he moves through the water, confident and unhurried. Loves the way he turns toward Buck when he leans in, like maybe he sees him too. Loves knowing that for all the loss and loneliness tangled up inside him, there’s something alive here, something he built a home for with his own hands.

And maybe, for the first time, he understands why his mom loved her tank so much.

Because taking care of something, keeping it safe, watching it thrive, means something.

Even if it’s just a fish.

Would he have preferred a dog? Probably. 

A cat? Yeah, he could see that too.

But his loft doesn’t allow pets and even getting permission for the fish had required some careful bartering with his landlord. 

If he’s being honest with himself, Buck knows he doesn’t have the time for a pet that needs him in the way a dog or cat would. He works too much, has too many long shifts, too many unpredictable hours. 

It wouldn’t be fair, to them or to him.

So, he’s happy with Sol.

His little companion in a life that’s felt quieter lately, lonelier. A creature small enough to need him but independent enough to be okay when he’s gone. 

Sol has his floating log to lounge on, a place to build his bubble nests when the mood strikes. He weaves through the soft sway of plants, flicks his fins against the water’s surface, explores his world at his own pace.

And maybe Buck sees a little of himself in that.

Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel so empty, coming home to him.

Figuring out that he was attracted to men was a little like realising he liked mushrooms.

For years, Buck had looked at Bobby’s loaded mushroom caps, stuffed with bacon and peppers, and thought they looked delicious. He’d watch the way everyone else devoured them, hear their murmurs of satisfaction, and feel a quiet curiosity gnawing at him. 

But since childhood, he’d known that he didn’t like mushrooms. The earthy taste, the texture, something about them just didn’t sit right with him.

Until one day, he said fuck it and tried one.

The taste burst across his tongue, unexpected and rich, and instead of recoiling, he leaned in. He liked them. He liked them a lot. The more he tried them, the more he realised how much he had been missing. Now, he eats them raw, enjoys the chew of them, the strong flavours. 

He thinks they’re a damn good snack.

And the same, apparently, went for men.

He’d always noticed them. He’d see a guy at the gym, shirt clinging to the defined lines of his body, and his brain would register the details, the broad chest, the trim waist, the powerful legs. He’d clock the way collarbones jutted out from the wide neck of a T-shirt, how the sharp cut of a jawline could make a man look devastatingly attractive. 

And Buck would think… Damn, he looks good.

But somehow, for years, he assumed it was just admiration. That he wanted to look like that, dress like that, style his hair just so. That it was about self improvement rather than attraction.

And then Tommy kissed him.

It was like eating that first mushroom.

A shock, but not a jarring one. More of a slow bloom of realisation, warm and obvious, like something settling into place that had been waiting for years.

Well, shit, he thought. I like this.

It wasn’t scary. It wasn’t even that surprising, not in a way that shook him to his core. 

It was a lot of different emotions. Frustrating that he had gone thirty years without realising something so fundamental about himself. But at the same time, it was almost easy. He didn’t have a problem with it, didn’t feel any kind of internalised shame.

The only discomfort came from the fact that it meant re-evaluating his own self perception.Having to admit that he hadn’t known himself as well as he thought.

So coming to terms with being bi, wasn’t the hard part.

The hard part, was what it meant for everything else.

Because once that door had been opened, Buck couldn’t unsee the glaring, obvious truth staring him in the face.

He had been, at least a little bit, in love with Eddie Diaz for years.

That realisation wasn’t easy.

Loving Eddie wasn’t the problem. The problem was the way they existed together, the way they moved through life so intertwined that sometimes Buck forgot where he ended and Eddie began.

He never said it out loud, but even before he figured out his own feelings, he knew their relationship was something other people might call codependent.

Not that he saw anything wrong with that. He liked his relationships to be close. He liked the intensity of knowing someone inside and out, of being able to finish their sentences, of understanding their needs before they even spoke them. 

But with Eddie, it was different.

Because once Buck stepped back, once he really looked… it was impossible to ignore how fucking perfect they were for each other.

The way they balanced each other out. 

The way they trusted each other implicitly. 

The way they never had to second guess the other’s presence in their life because it was just assumed, they would always be there.

Buck tried to move on.

He wanted to move on.

Tommy had been a safe choice, someone new, someone separate enough from the intricate web of his life but still familiar. 

But Tommy was also older, uninterested in kids, uninterested in building something. The relationship, in hindsight, had always had an expiration date.

Maybe Buck had asked Tommy to move in so quickly because he was already getting bored. Maybe because he could feel the inevitable unraveling and wanted to get ahead of it. Or maybe, deep down, he already knew this was just another relationship destined to end with Buck standing alone, wondering why he could never quite make it stick.

But when Tommy ended things, it didn’t hurt the way it should have.

It sucked, he wanted to try and fix things and get back together with Tommy, not because he wanted to be with Tommy, but  because it left Buck with a startling, undeniable truth.

No one was ever going to compare to Eddie.

Because no one else had ever even come close to meaning as much to him.

So now, here he was… bi, fish father, in love with his best friend and six hundred miles away from him, hoping that somehow, distance might help him figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next.

“I mean, it’s very pretty,” Eddie says over FaceTime, his voice scratchy with distance, as Buck angles his phone toward the tank.

Sol moves through the water in effortless, liquid motion, his long, trailing fins floating like silk in a slow, steady rhythm.

“He likes his home,” Buck muses, watching the fish glide between the rocks. 

At least someone does.

“He, huh?”

“Apparently, the boys have longer fins.” Buck zooms in slightly, catching the shimmer of Sol’s iridescent scales, the way the light bends off his tail. “And, well… Sol has the very long ones.”

Eddie makes a small noise, something between amusement and acknowledgment, but his voice softens when he asks, “So… what made you get a fish?”

Buck hesitates for only a fraction of a second before shifting the camera back to himself.

“I wanted one,” he says simply. 

He’s hardly going to say that Sol is a placeholder, a quiet, beautiful thing in a space that suddenly feels too empty. That the gentle movement of water, the steady presence of something small but alive, is the only thing keeping him from feeling like he’s sinking in a silence that’s thick and unbearable.

That once again, someone he loves is gone, and he has to figure out how to live with the absence.

So, yeah. 

Because he wanted to, because he could.

Because Sol is manageable.

Sol is easy.

“How’s the house?” he asks, because this is a conversation he does not want to have.

Eddie exhales, glancing at something off screen. “It’s okay. Sort of smells a bit, you know that mothball sort of smell.” He wrinkles his nose.

“Lucky you.” Buck snorts.

A silence lingers, stretching out between them. It’s not an easy, comfortable silence that he’s used to between them, it’s the kind of pause that feels like it should be filled with something, but neither of them knows what to say.

Buck swallows. He has plenty of things he wants to say, things he should probably get off his chest before they fester. 

It’s been weeks, and Sol might be able to drift effortlessly through water, but Buck feels like he’s drowning in it.

“How’s Christopher?” he asks carefully. He doesn’t want to poke at something raw, doesn’t want to risk making it worse. 

He knows Eddie and Chris weren’t on great terms when Eddie left. 

Knows that’s probably still the case.

Eddie sighs, a heavy thing that seems to come from deep in his chest. “He’s really mad. He doesn’t want me here.”

“He’ll come around. You’ll wear him down, you’re good at that.” He smiles fondly.

“No, Buck.” Eddie shakes his head. “He’s angry I came at all.” His mouth presses into a thin line, and for a brief second, something flickers across his face, something unguarded, something that looks like doubt. But then the camera shifts slightly pointing at the ceiling and when Eddie reappears, his expression is carefully neutral again. “He’s mad that I moved here. He wants to go back to LA.”

Buck bites the inside of his cheek.

He could have told Eddie that.

Eddie, bless his impulsive heart, packed up his life and moved to Texas after a string of bad decisions, all rooted in the same damn thing, his refusal to talk about how he feels, to explain himself, to stop acting like silence and sacrifice are the only ways to prove love.

And now? His grand solution is to fix it by making another decision without talking about it first.

Buck tried.

He tried to get Eddie to tell Christopher what he was thinking, to explain instead of just up and chasing him to Texas. 

But at the end of the day, even if he wants it to be, this isn’t Buck’s fight and Eddie never learns. Not really. He’s spent his whole life believing that actions are louder than words, that if he just does something, it’ll be enough.

But sometimes, you have to hear things before you can believe them.

Buck sees it, has always seen it. He’s spent years trying to help, to be the voice that urges Eddie to step outside himself long enough to see what’s right in front of him.

But he can’t keep pushing. It hurts too much to be ignored.

Eddie always thinks he knows best. And to be fair, when it comes to Christopher, he usually does. 

But this time? He’s the one treading water, unable to see clearly.

The truth is, all Eddie really needed to do was stay. Put his foot down. Say enough was enough and bring his son home.

Christopher would have been mad, sure. He would have kicked and screamed for a bit, would have thrown every ounce of his frustration into Eddie’s face.

But he’s fourteen. He would have gotten over it.

Would have heard Eddie out in LA just as easily as he’ll eventually hear him out in El Paso. Only in LA, they wouldn’t have the Diaz Board of Directors breathing down his neck.

Buck exhales sharply. 

This isn’t his problem to fix.

“You’ll figure it out,” he says, because what else is there?

“Yeah.” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face. “Hopefully.”

A month or so later, Maddie and Chimney invite themselves over for dinner, because that’s how his sister makes plans.

She doesn’t ask if she can come, she asks what he’s doing, waits for his inevitably lackluster answer (because these days, he’s single, best friendless, and grumpier than usual), and then, in that big sister way of hers, declares that they’ll be over at five.

She even knows when he’s off because, of course, her husband has the same damn shifts as him.

Maddie’s at the waddle stage of her pregnancy now, belly round and stretched tight, life blooming beneath her skin. It makes Buck feel a little all soft and gooey if he thinks about it too long, because it means someone else to love. Another tiny person in their orbit, another piece of their little patched together family.

She kisses his cheek when she walks in, gives him those impossibly soft eyes, the same ones that have made him feel safe his whole life and just like always, Buck melts into her warmth.

It’s embarrassing, how much he still needs it.

How much he’s always needed it.

They talk about life, about the baby, about dispatch and how she swears people are getting crazier.

Maddie sits at the kitchen counter, sipping the decaf iced tea he made exactly how she likes it, while Buck stirs the soup for dinner on the stove and Chimney chases Jee-Yun around the apartment, her little giggles brightening up the space like fairy lights.

It’s nice. It’s always nice, and every single time, Buck finds himself slipping out of his irritation that Maddie steamrolled his evening plans and into the bone deep gratitude that she’s his sister at all.

Because Buck loves his sister the way he thinks mama’s boys love their moms. Maddie isn’t his mom, but in all the ways that mattered, she loved him like she was.

He didn’t see it when he was younger, but he does now, the way Maddie took the hit so he wouldn’t have to. How she absorbed the worst of it so she could soften the impact for him.

She has always loved him, always cared for him, always found a way to look after him even when she could barely look after herself.

He doesn’t know how she does it, how she holds so much love inside her, unshakable and boundless, no matter how many times life has demanded she sacrifice something.

And she’s happy now. After everything, she’s found her way to true happiness. She’s carved out something beautiful, a family, a man who worships the ground she walks on, a daughter who is pure joy, a job she loves.

Settled. Secure. Sure of herself.

“You look really healthy,” he tells her, because he does worry, about her being pregnant again, the fear of what will happen if things spiral like they did last time. 

About whether she’ll see it coming if they do.

He doesn’t want to see everything she fought for slip through her fingers.

“I feel good,” she grins, stroking her stomach. “Ready for baby girl.”

Buck sighs, he wants to feel that way one day. Wants to be excited for something like that. Wants his own family. Wants someone to give all his love too and not have it thrown back at him.  

His mind drifts, because it always does, to Eddie. Because now that Buck has worked some things out, the faceless, undefined shape of his future has taken on sharp, unmistakable edges.

Eddie would fit.

He’s already a great father, even if he doesn’t believe it. He’s the person Buck feels most comfortable with, the person who makes sense in ways no one else does.

They’d make cute babies, even though that’s genetically impossible. 

A mix of both of them would be perfect.

Eddie’s deep brown eyes and Buck’s unruly curls. Their shared height and Eddie’s easy smile. Eddie’s unwavering loyalty balanced by Buck’s reckless spontaneity. Eddie’s quiet kindness softened by Buck’s relentless, openhearted determination, his inability to ever hold back when it matters most.

Buck sighs again, a little more weighted this time. “If I married a man, would you give me an egg?” He leans his head against his palm.

Maddie nearly chokes on her drink. “Where did that come from?”

“Well, we’re siblings, so that way we could use the other guy’s, you know?” He jacks his hand and almost immediately regrets it and pushes on, “It’d be as genetically close as we could get.”

Maddie giggles, shaking her head. “If you really wanted that, sure.”

“I don’t think I do,” he laughs. “I think adoption would be great or there are lots of options. But, you know, I’m glad you said yes in case.”

“Was this a test?” She raises a brow.

“More of a query,” he smirks. “Putting feelers out.”

“Did I pass?”

“With flying colours,” Buck grins.  

“Is there a guy, I don’t know about?”

“Only guy in my life is Sol.” He nods toward the fish tank.

Maddie hums. “Yeah, I was gonna ask the big fish tank question.” She peers in to the tank, “Why’d you buy a fish?” Her voice takes on a very confused lilt and Buck frowns. 

Why is it such a weird thing? Eddie asked the same question, like it was some great mystery that a guy might just want a pet.

“He’s my friend,” Buck says, turning away to stir the soup some more.  

“Because you miss Eddie?” Maddie asks casually.

Buck freezes, fingers tightening around the spoon.

Is he really that transparent?

Can’t a man just buy a fish to replace his longing for his best friend in peace?

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. “It is as simple as, I wanted a fish, so I bought a fish.”

Maddie doesn’t push, but he can see the gears turning behind her eyes, and he knows she will eventually. She’s always been able to talk him in circles until he admits whatever’s weighing on him, but tonight, he doesn’t have the energy for it.

“He has a little log to sit in, look,” Buck says instead, pointing at Sol’s tank.

Chimney takes that as his moment to chime in. “You getting more to put in there?”

“He has a lot of stuff. He doesn’t need more.”

“No, but Albert has a betta fish, and it has little friends. You getting him some tank mates?”

“He doesn’t need tank mates.”

“It’s good for them, though. Albert did a lot of research before getting his.”

So did Buck. 

He knows that bottom dwelling fish can help clean the tank, and that some species of fish can coexist with a betta. But he also knows bettas are solitary.

They don’t need companions to thrive.

He doesn’t tell Chimney to mind his business, but all Buck can think is… Am I making Sol lonely?

He hates being lonely. Hates the way it creeps in, insidious and heavy, seeping into the spaces between his ribs, filling up the quiet moments when he lets his guard down.

Is he doing that to Sol too?

Damn it.

Now he’s going to have to buy him friends.

It takes Buck a while to finally make it to the pet store, but when he does, he finds himself deep in conversation with Roy, the fish guy, weighing his options.

Guppies, Harlequin Rasboras, Tetras, snails, shrimp, frogs, so many possibilities.

He had gone in thinking he’d get a small school of tetras, five of them, to dart around the tank and keep Sol company.

That was the plan.

Instead, he walks out with glass shrimp.

Snails had been tempting for about five seconds, but snails meant eggs, and eggs meant more snails, and before he knew it, he’d have an entire infestation.

Yeah, no thanks.

So, shrimp it is. Just four. Enough to add some life to the tank without turning it into an ecosystem gone rogue.

Bing, Bang, Bong, and Richard.

They acclimate to the water, then settle in as if they’ve always been there. Sol doesn’t seem to care much, and the shrimp, well… they’re shrimp.

Everyone coexists peacefully, unbothered by one another.

At least now Buck has more to watch, and if Sol ever decides he wants friends, he’s got them.

Buck misses Eddie.

Not in a distant, wistful way, no, that would be too easy.

He misses Eddie in the kind of way that sits heavy in his chest, in the way that makes him reach for his phone instinctively a dozen times a day just to tell him some random thought, only to realise he’s already texted Eddie three times that morning.

They talk, a lot. More than a lot. Buck has talked to Eddie more in the past three months than some long distance couples, and maybe that should concern him, but it doesn’t. 

Christopher has apparently forgiven Eddie, but for all their talking, Buck did not receive the details on him moving in with Eddie at the El Paso rental. He sometimes jumps on the line, bright and mischievous, back to his usual playful, clever self, cracking jokes that Buck swears Eddie must be coaching him through. 

Buck watches  Eddie’s background changes on video calls slowly but surely, first, a new blanket draped over the couch, then books scattered on the coffee table, and then, of all things, a painting on the wall that Eddie did himself.

Because apparently, Eddie paints now.

And it’s actually… really nice?

“I think El Paso looks good on you,” Buck mutters, shovelling a bite of leftover mac and cheese into his mouth, the kind of comfort food that should not taste this good cold.

Eddie shakes his head, but he’s smiling, that soft, self assured smile that Buck feels somewhere deep in his bones. “It’s actually been really good for me. Weird, right?”

Buck’s throat goes tight. “Yeah,” he whispers.

God, he misses him.

Three months after Eddie left, Buck does one of the dumbest things he has done in a while.

He joins The Yummy Mommies Running Club.

It starts, as all terrible decisions do, with just one bad choice.

Well no, that’s not true. A series of bad choices.

First, Eddie left for Texas.

Then, Buck lost all sense of self preservation.

Then, he bought a betta fish named Sol.

Then, he decided Sol needed friends, so he got some shrimp.

Then, he sold half his closet on Vinted and replaced them with what Maddie has dubbed his Man Experiencing a Crisis wardrobe.

Then, he started baking again, not just casually, but obsessively, until Maddie sat him down and said, Enough.

Which is how he ends up here, a fully grown childless man in a jogging group for parents.

In Buck’s defense, he did not know what he was signing up for.

He saw a flyer for a low-intensity running club with built in coffee breaks and thought, Hey, that sounds nice. I’ll do that.

Cut to Buck, standing bright and early in a park, surrounded by five moms clutching iced coffees and power walking in high end athleisure.

And the thing is, he tried to correct them.

He really did.

But then Amy, the group leader and gatekeeper of the group chat, looked him up and down, squinted, and said, “Oh, you’re definitely a daddy.”

And Buck, who absolutely should have said, “No, I’m actually just a guy that has a lot of feelings and could really use validation in the form of community support”

Instead panicked and said, “Uh. Yeah.”

Which is how Buck became the group’s Official Hot Divorced Dad.

(It got so much worse when they found out he was a firefighter. They eat that shit up.)

Buck actually likes them, Amy, Veronica, Rachel, Jess, and Mel. 

They’re fun. They gossip. They have fantastic neighbourhood drama, even if it isn’t Buck’s neighbourhood and he would never admit to enjoying it but he definitely files everything they say away for later.

Although and you didn’t hear this from Buck, but apparently Mel is on the outs because she refuses to follow the dress code.

Which is simple: No deranged colour mixing.

But Mel, bless her heart, thinks neon green leggings, pink leg warmers, and an orange tank top go together. And the Yummy Mommies do not agree.

Buck thinks they just don’t like her because she’s older, her son is in college, while the rest of them have kids ten and under, but alas, Mel’s presence in the group has been dwindling.

Buck didn’t get kicked out when he finally admitted he didn’t actually have a child. Why should Mel be exiled for bad leg warmers? But justice does not exist in the world of suburban jogging cliques, so he simply mourns her quietly as she fades from their ranks.

Five weeks in, Buck has fully assimilated.

Or, well, as much as he is going to.

The problem is, they started calling him Daddy Longlegs.

Which then got shortened down to just Daddy Legs, or DL and sometimes even D double L. 

And no. Buck did not pick the name.

In fact, he’s been actively trying to shake the name for weeks, but the universe keeps conspiring against him, and honestly? He’s just accepted it now.

It started when Amy posted a post run selfie in the group chat, sweaty, exhausted, but victorious, all of them clutching iced coffees like trophies.

Then, Jess’ husband, who Buck has never met, will never meet, and honestly holds a deep seated grudge against asked her, ‘Damn, who’s Daddy Longlegs?’

She let the group know.  

And that? That was it.

The Yummy Mommies lost their minds.

Amy changed his contact name immediately.

Veronica started introducing him to people as “Daddy Longlegs, our honorary hot daddy.”

And Buck?

Buck just has to live with it.

So now, Daddy Longlegs sits at their usual café table, sipping a matcha latte (because Amy says he needs antioxidants), listening to them debrief the latest preschool drama, when the conversation takes a turn.

“So, Buck,” Amy asks, stirring oat milk into her cold brew. “Tell us about your man.”

“My… what?”

Amy grins. “Your man. The one you keep sighing about when you think we aren’t looking.”

And Buck, traitorous, reckless, deeply emotionally compromised Buck, without even thinking, tells them everything.

He tells them about Eddie.

About Christopher.

About how Eddie moved to Texas and how much he misses him. How Eddie’s house is getting homier, how he’s painting now, how Buck watches his smile through the phone and feels like his heart is trying to fight its way out of his chest.

And the Yummy Mommies?

Oh, they are fully invested.

They listen like it’s a the most interesting thing in the world. They gaslight him into admitting he’s in love. Veronica threatens to book him a flight on her airline points. Jess tears up.

“It’s not that simple,” Buck sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “He’s straight,”

“Oh, Buck,” Jess murmurs, patting his shoulder.

Amy, ever the voice of reason, tilts her head. “Have you thought about moving on? Finding someone new?”

Which, yeah, sure, valid even. 

That would make sense. 

Instead of spending his free mornings power walking with suburban moms, when he’s in fantastic shape, regularly does high intensity training, and has absolutely no reason to be here other than the fact that he genuinely likes these women and has maybe grown alarmingly attached to their group chat.

Buck likes being a Yummy Mommy.

Still, the logical part of his brain says he should be out there, dating and meeting someone nice, moving on from his feeling for Eddie. 

Find the kind of relationship he wants so badly it physically hurts.

“I just… need time,” he frowns.

Veronica snorts, sipping her drink. “You need dick.”

“Veronica!” Amy gasps, clutching her cold brew like she might faint. “He needs support, not one night stands with men who only want one thing.” She clucks her tongue disapprovingly.

Buck sighs. “I’m bi, actually.”

Rachel, ever the peacekeeper, smiles warmly, reaching for his hand like they’re in some kind of intervention. “Men or women, honey, you lick your wounds at your own pace.”

Veronica raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, well, he should be licking something.”

Buck groans and the Yummy Mommies cackle.

Rachel squeezes his hand. “We’re just saying. Maybe go outside. Touch some grass. Maybe touch a man... or women.”

Amy sighs. “Someone nice, who loves and respects you.”

“And rail him within an inch of his life,” Veronica adds.

Buck drops his head into his hands. “Why do I come here?”

Jess rubs his back. “Because you love us.”

He does. He really does.

Life keeps moving. He works, calls happen, he joins the yummy mommies twice a week, and Sol continues to live his best life as Buck’s prized pet.

And then, six months after Buck clutched at Eddie like a dying man and whispered a barely there goodbye into his shoulder, he comes home from shift to find Christopher sitting at his kitchen island, casually eating a cookie, while Eddie scolds him about crumbs.

“Holy shit!” Buck gasps, clutching his chest like he’s about to have a heart attack. “What-what are you doing here?”

Christopher barely pauses his chewing as Buck rushes toward him, pulling him into a hug, wide eyed and frantic, trying to process what the hell is happening.

“We’re back,” Christopher says brightly, but he is clearly completely unbothered by the sheer life changing nature of his own words, “Now let go. I’m hungry.” he deadpans.

“Right. Yeah. Sorry.” Buck releases him with one final squeeze, still dazed, and barely has time to blink before Eddie is rounding the counter and pulling him into a tight, bone melting hug.

“Missed you,” Eddie whispers in his ear, voice warm and familiar in a way that makes Buck’s chest ache.

Buck exhales sharply, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s back and tucking his head against his shoulder. “Missed you too.”

Missed you too, is the understatement of the year, because Buck has been losing his entire mind for the past six months. He doesn’t even know how he survived it, just that he woke up every day and pretended he wasn’t unraveling without them.

“But really… you’re home?” He pulls back to get a better look at Eddie, like his brain needs confirmation that this isn’t some cruel hallucination. 

He looks… different. Brighter. Softer. Happier. Somehow even more beautiful than the day he left, which feels like a personal attack.

“The people renting our place decided to move out early,” Eddie explains easily. “Something about buying a house, but they paid the rest of the year’s lease, so it made it possible for us to come back sooner.”

“We wanted to surprise you,” Christopher grins, like he didn’t just almost give Buck a heart attack.

Buck blinks, still trying to catch up. “Wait… are you coming back to work?”

Eddie nods, biting his lip. “Bobby’s known for weeks,” he admits, eyes glinting with amusement. “Surprised you didn’t catch on. I think we’ve been smiling more.” He laughs.

Oh, okay. Cool.

Everyone was in on it except him.

They catch up, talking about everything and nothing all at once, the logistics of the move, the long car ride back, the weird guy at a gas station who tried to sell Christopher a vape (“I have a baby face, Buck, he thought I was eighteen!”), and how Buck had just endured the longest, most mind numbingly boring shift of his life.

It’s easy. Effortless. Like no time has passed at all.

God, he missed this.

Missed them. 

Christopher loves Sol, but he taps his tank one too many times for Buck’s comfort.

“Does he do tricks?” Christopher asks innocently.

Buck loves the kid, but god is he far too sarcastic for his own good.

“He lives a stress free life,” Buck says, glaring. “Leave him be.” He flicks Christopher’s ear in warning.

Christopher, unfazed, shrugs. “The shrimp are cooler than the fish, honestly.”

Buck gapes offended. “They are not… they’re the opening act, Christopher. Sol is the main event.”

Christopher just rolls his eyes and strolls toward the living room and the little shit has the audacity to call over his shoulder, “I’ll let you two whisper loudly to each other and pretend I can’t hear everything you’re saying.”

Buck stares after him, blinking. Then looks at Eddie, who is watching them with something soft and unbearably fond in his eyes.

“He seems good,” Buck says after a beat.

“He is,” Eddie agrees, nodding. “He’s doing really well.” Eddie tilts his head, “You doing good?”

What a question.

Buck wants to say yes. He wants to say that he’s been thriving, that everything’s been fine, that he totally hasn’t been wandering around his apartment like some tragic, lovelorn ghost.

“Can’t complain.” He shrugs. “How about you? You good?”

Eddie hums. “I’m gay.”

And all of Buck’s thoughts collapsed in on themselves, folding into a useless heap of nothing.

“What?” He croaks.

“I’m gay,” Eddie repeats casually.

Buck enters a new realm of existence, he is pretty sure his soul momentarily leaves his body.

What?

What the fuck?

“Oh,” Buck says, dazed. “Uh. Congrats?”

Eddie snorts. “Thanks. Just thought I should let you know.” His voice is so calm. His posture is easy, relaxed. Like this isn’t the most earth shattering conversation of Buck’s entire life.

Is this why Eddie’s been so happy lately?

Buck nods stiffly, alarms blaring in his head.

EDDIE IS GAY.

EDDIE. IS. GAY.

WHAT THE FUCK.

“I’m happy for you,” Buck says, forcing a totally not weird smile, even as his brain spirals into a category five meltdown.

“Thanks, Buck.” Eddie grins like nothing in the world is wrong. “You wanna get food? I’ve been gagging for that good Chinese place.”

Buck stares at him.

What the fuck.

He doesn’t even get time to fully spiral before they join Christopher on the couch, like it’s the most natural thing, which it is because they've done this a thousand times before.

They order food, watch a movie, and just exist together, like no time or distance ever happened. It’s nice. It’s normal. It’s absolutely derailing Buck’s ability to process anything.

By the time they leave, he barely makes it to his bed before collapsing onto it like a condemned building finally giving up the fight; ready to be demolished, buried under the weight of his own thoughts, and put out of his misery.

Buck barely sleeps that night, his brain stuck on an endless loop of Eddie is back. Eddie is here. Eddie is gay. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling, then at the wall, then at his phone, before finally passing out from sheer exhaustion.

When he finally drags himself out of bed sometime around late morning, which is honestly an optimistic way of putting it, he stands in front of Sol’s tank, watching him swish lazily through the water. His mind, however, is doing anything but swishing lazily.

It’s spiralling. Hard.

Eddie is gay.

Eddie is a homosexual.

Eddie likes boys.

Eddie wants to kiss boys.

Eddie wants to fuck boys.

Eddie wants to-

Oh.

Oh, no.

Eddie might want to fuck him.

And oh boy, Buck definitely wants to fuck Eddie.

He wants to kiss him first, obviously.

He’s not a complete animal. 

There’s a process. A method. 

A science to these things.

First, there’s kissing. Then there’s touching. Then there’s more kissing. Then, in an ideal world, Buck gets to sit on Eddie’s stupid lap and Eddie will hold him like Buck is the most important thing in the world.

The point is, Eddie likes MEN now.  

Buck is a man and Buck wants Eddie and now there is no logical reason why this shouldn’t work, except for the very large, very concerning, very terrifying reason that what if it actually works?

Like… Buck knows Eddie knows he’s bi. That’s not a question. He came out in his kitchen, all coy and heartfelt.  

He’s talked about it. They’ve had conversations. Eddie was chill about it, he’s always been cool about it, always just accepted it the same way he accepts that the sky is blue and Buck makes bad decisions on impulse and Christopher is the greatest kid alive.

Eddie knows Buck likes men.

And now Eddie likes men, too.

Which should be a good thing.

Which is a good thing.

Which should be the greatest thing that has ever happened to Buck, except for the tiny little massive issue that what if Eddie actually likes him back?

What if Eddie has always liked him back?

What if Eddie came back from Texas thinking about it, too?

What if Eddie spent the last six months reaching his big gay epiphany while Buck was over here spiralling, trying to sublimate his emotions by nearly buying his good friend Sol, selling all his clothes and accidentally joining the yummy mommies running group.  

Oh god.

What if Eddie already knows?

What if Eddie already knows and just came back all, “Oh, hey Buck, I’m gay now,” just to ruin his life?

What if Eddie came back specifically to destroy Buck?

Like, he could’ve told Buck in a normal way. He could’ve made it clear. 

But no, he just dropped it in casual conversation like it was nothing. Like it was the weather, and just immediately short circuited every single neurone in Buck’s already barely functioning brain.

Oh yeah, it’s sunny today, I suck dick now, might rain later.

What the fuck is Buck supposed to do with this information?

Because if Eddie likes men, if Eddie wants men, then there’s at least a tiny chance that Eddie might also want Buck.

And that?

That’s a problem.

Because if Eddie does want Buck, then Buck might just keel over and die on the spot. He will combust. He will evaporate. The sheer weight of his own feelings will crush him like a bug under a boot.

But if Eddie doesn’t want Buck?

Well. Then Buck might still die. Just, y’know. A little more sadly.

BUT. 

What if Eddie has been thinking about him?

What if Eddie wants him?

What if Eddie… 

What if Eddie asks him out?

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

That’s the end. That’s game over. That’s all she wrote.

The end of the line. The final whistle. Lights out. 

Curtains close, checkmate, dunzo.

Because Buck knows himself. 

He knows what will happen.

Eddie will ask him out. Buck will say yes. They’ll go on a date. It’ll be perfect. Eddie will look at him like he does when Buck does something dumb, like his heart is too full for his body to handle. Buck will make Eddie laugh. Eddie will touch Buck’s hand when they walk and Buck will combust on the spot.

And then?

Then they’ll keep dating.

And that’s the terrifying part.

Because there is no universe where Buck casually dates Eddie.

That is simply not how Buck is wired.

If he dates Eddie, he is marrying Eddie.He is moving in, he is filing their taxes together and picking up Eddie’s favourite beer from the store and spending every single morning of the rest of his life waking up next to him.

That’s it. That’s the only option.

If Buck starts this, he will never be able to stop.

Which means that if Eddie does ask him out, then Buck’s entire life is about to change permanently.

And Buck…

Buck needs a minute.

Or, like, several minutes. 

Or, actually… a group of women to hold his hand and guide him through this nightmare of hope and longing and overwhelming desire to climb his best friend like a tree.

Which is exactly why he pulls out his phone, opens the group chat, and types. 

Buck:
SOS. EMERGENCY.
MOM MEETING.
PANIC LEVEL: EXTREME.

Because if there’s one thing in life Buck can count on, it’s that the yummy mommies always come through in a crisis.

He needs help.

It’s time to call in the experts.

Amy:
What’s wrong, Daddy Legs?
You knock someone up?

Rachel:
Wait, is our hot firefighter finally in love?

Veronica:
Are we going full Hallmark movie???

Jess:
Babe, we’ve been waiting for this day. 

Amy:
We’re mobilising.
Our cafe at 4.

Buck is spiralling, sweaty, and about ten seconds from screaming into a pillow. So instead he chugs half a bottle of water, and sighs as he watches Sol and the gang swim around their tank and texts back.

Buck:
Make it 3.
I need immediate triage.

Buck falls into his seat with all the grace of a baby giraffe, limbs flailing, dignity abandoned at the door. 

Veronica snorts as he whines like he’s been mortally wounded. “What’s the emergency, Daddy Legs?” she asks, patting his head in a way that is both condescending and somehow maternal.

Buck stares at them all, eyes hollow, voice a whisper of pure despair.

“Eddie is gay.”

Silence falls for a beat, but this is the yummy mommies they can only be quiet for so long.  

“Holy shit,” Amy gasps. “How do you know? Is he dating someone?”

Buck sits up so fast he nearly takes the whole table down with him, eyes wild, untamed, deranged.

“Do not… DO. NOT. Put that kind of energy into the universe,” he screeches, jabbing a finger at her like she just suggested arson.

“Sorry, DL,” she giggles, but she is not sorry.

“He told me,” Buck mutters dramatically, slumping forward, the weight of his woe pressing him down. “He’s also back.” He lean forward and takes a long, suffering sip of his iced coffee, so heavy with despair he might just sink through the floor.

“When did he get back?” Jessica asks, eyes narrowing.

”Yesterday,” Buck says solemnly.

Veronica leans in, eyes glinting. “So… are you gonna tell him you’re in Pine City for him?”

“I—” Buck sighs again, long and theatrical. “I don’t know.”

“Well, either you are or you aren’t, Curly,” Veronica clucks, sipping her latte, the most ruthless of the Yummy Mommies coming in clutch.

“It’s not that simple,” Jess says, squeezing his hand gently, the nicest of the Yummy Mommies.

“We can do a pro/con list,” Amy nods, already pulling out a colour coded notebook, leader of the Yummy Mommies.

“Or,” Rachel says, sipping her green tea, “we can let Buck breathe for five minutes.” She is the calmest of the Yummy Mommies.

Buck stares at them, at his council, at his saviours, and exhales dramatically.

“Fine,” he says. “Five minutes. Then chart my fate.”

Amy cracks her knuckles like she’s about to perform open heart surgery. Veronica grins almost evilly. Jessica and Rachel exchange looks that are deeply judgmental yet filled with fondness for the absolute wreck of a man in front of them.

Then the Pro/Con War begins.

“Pro, he’s gay,” Veronica announces. “Con, he came out and didn’t immediately jump your bones,” she adds, sipping her drink.

“Veronica,” Rachel sighs, shaking her head. “He loves him. This isn’t about sex.”

“Oh, sex is definitely a contributor,” Buck argues, lifting a single finger like he’s making a very important point. “All the sex. The sexiest man to ever sex.”

“To ever sex?” Amy blinks. “How do I categorise that?”

“Just write ‘Buck is feral’ in the Pro column,” Veronica nods.

“Not funny,” Buck grumbles.

“Pro and con,” Amy corrects, jotting it down.

“Oh my god,” Buck groans, dropping his head into his arms.

“Con, Eddie might not feel the same way,” Veronica says, unbothered, unrelenting.

“Pro, he might,” Rachel counters, giving Buck a pointed look.

“Oh, come on, of course he does” Jessica interjects, throwing a hand in Buck’s direction. “Look at him. He’s built like an action figure.”

“I am taking that as a compliment,” Buck nods solemnly.

“What if Eddie likes… little dudes?” Rachel muses.

“No one likes short kings,” Veronica says flatly. “That’s why I divorced Mike.”

“Burn, girl,” Buck mutters, fist bumping her.

“Pro,” Rachel declares, undeterred, “this could be your happily ever after.”

“Con,” Buck counters, voice hollow, “it could ruin my seven years of friendship with the guy I work beside every single day.”

“Oh, is he going back to work with you?” Amy asks.

Buck nods.

“Pro or con?” she asks.

“I think that’s just a fact,” Buck sighs.

“Con,” Veronica announces, pointing her drink at the table, “he could totes be bad in bed. No experience with the equipment.”

“He has the equipment,” Buck argues, gesturing wildly. “And you should see his ass.”

“Oh, that’s a point,” Amy perks up. “Can we see a picture? That will help us.”

Buck groans, but of course he pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera roll like a man searching for a holy relic, carefully selecting the perfect image.

He settles on one of them together at work, sitting on the back of the engine, legs swinging, both of them caught in laughter. Eddie’s hair is falling into his face, his eyes are bright, and his arms are flexing in a way that makes Buck want to walk into the ocean.

He looks edible.

Oh, no.

Eddie-ble.

Buck has never known true suffering until this moment.

The Yummy Mommies take one look at the picture and implode.

“Oh shit,” Veronica breathes, snatching his phone out of his hand.

“Damn,” Rachel exhales like she’s just seen the face of God.

“Okay, yes, risk it all,” Amy declares, which is frankly insane because Amy is the cautious one. The planner. The woman who has never taken a risk in her life.

Buck blinks at her. “Really?”

Amy giggles. “Buck, he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.”

Buck looks down at the picture.

He looks back up.

“Also, he looks like a freaking model,” Jessica notes, zooming in on Eddie’s face. “Pretty sure he’s been on the front cover of one of my books.”

“Dirty book?” Veronica asks.

Jessica hums. “I’ll send you a link.”

“So it’s decided,” Amy announces, slamming the notebook shut. “Pro: you tell him. You get love, happiness, and sexy times. Con: you don’t tell him, you die alone, and Eddie does too because that man is clearly in love with you.” She nods. “Meeting adjourned.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Buck frowns. “What if he just looks at everyone like that?”

The Yummy Mommies exchange glances.

Glances that scream, this poor dumb bastard.

Rachel leans forward, expression calm, voice soft. “Buck… what is this really about?”

Because it’s clear, painfully clear, that this isn’t about whether Eddie likes him.

It’s about what happens when Buck finally gets what he’s always wanted.

Buck opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Then makes a noise that can only be described as the sound of a man imploding.

He slams his hands down on the table. “IT’S ABOUT EVERYTHING, RACHEL.”

Rachel eyes bulge out of her head. 

Jessica jumps. 

Amy calmly takes a sip of her latte. 

Veronica, the actual devil, laughs.

“Okay, let’s break down ‘everything,’” Amy says, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook. “What is the actual root of this emotional crisis?”

Buck gestures wildly at his phone, nearly knocking over his iced coffee. “Eddie is gay, Amy! Gay! And I- I-”

“You…?” Veronica prompts, sipping her drink like this is the best reality TV she’s ever watched.

“I LOVE HIM,” Buck yells, throwing himself back in his chair so dramatically he nearly topples over.

“We know,” Jessica soothes, patting his arm like she’s dealing with her toddler and not a 33 year old grown man.

“NO, BUT LIKE-” Buck grabs the notebook from Amy and scribbles something furiously before slamming it down in front of them.

In all caps, underlined,

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WANT TO BE MARRIED TO HIM

Silence.

Then Rachel, God bless her, nods sagely. “Well, Daddy Legs, that does sound like a you problem.”

Buck lets out a noise like a dying walrus. “I am aware of that, yes.”

“So… ask him out?” Jess suggests, because she is kind and pure, and does not understand that Buck is currently experiencing an emotional supernova.

“I can’t just ask him out, Jessica! That’s like, that’s like jumping out of a plane without a parachute! What if he doesn’t want that? What if he just wants to, like… exist in his gayness without me coming in all ‘Hi Buck here, I love you, let’s kiss and move in together and have babies’?”

Veronica tilts her head. “Okay but, like. What if he does?”

Buck freezes.

His soul leaves his body.

His entire life flashes before his eyes.

“Oh my God,” he whispers.

Amy claps her hands together. “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna breathe…”

Buck inhales so hard he chokes.

“…And then you’re gonna go talk to him. But not like a lunatic.”

“Counterpoint,” Buck wheezes. “What if I do talk to him like a lunatic?”

“That is the most likely scenario,” Veronica agrees.

Rachel shrugs. “I think you should at least wait until you’re not on the verge of a breakdown.”

“I have been on the verge of a breakdown for years.”

“And we love that for you,” Jess says sweetly.

Buck groans. “I hate you all.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“Yeah, definitely send me that book link?” Veronica asks Jess.

Jess hums. “Oh, absolutely.”

Amy slides the notebook back toward Buck. “Final ruling… get your shit together and talk to your man.”

Buck stares at it. 

Stares at them. 

Stares at his coffee.

Then he sighs, dramatic and tragic, grabs his phone, and hoists himself out of his chair like Atlas carrying the weight of the world.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But if I die, I expect a tribute post in the running club group chat.”

Veronica salutes him. “We’ll have a memorial iced coffee run in your honour, D double L.”

“Meeting adjourned.” Amy nods and smiles, closing her book.

Buck stomps out of the cafe, shoulders tight, heart pounding, already regretting every life decision that has led him to this moment.

Talk.

That’s an interesting word.

Talk. Four letters. One syllable.

A thing Buck absolutely does not do.

Because Buck does not talk to Eddie. Buck does not speak in an order to give information or express ideas or feelings. Buck does not converse or communicate by spoken words.

Buck moves.

He moves with purpose, with desperation, with a single minded determination that has his hands pushing Eddie’s front door open, has his feet carrying him straight into the kitchen, has his fingers gripping Eddie’s face as he shoves him against the counter and kisses him like a dying man given one last breath of air.

And Eddie fucking melts.

Like he’s meant to be here, like his body was crafted to slot into all of Buck’s wide open spaces, like he’s been waiting for this, just like Buck has. 

His hands grip Buck’s waist, fingers bunching in his shirt, yanking him in, closer, closer, closer.

It’s not soft. It’s not slow.

It’s consuming.

One of Buck’s hands slides down Eddie’s face, grips his shoulder like if he lets go, he’ll lose him forever. The other tilts Eddie’s head, angling it just right so he can kiss him deeper, can slide his tongue into his mouth and pull a moan from Eddie’s throat.

It’s too much, it’s not enough. 

Eddie pushes.

Not away, never away again, but forward, until Buck’s stumbling back, sitting on the tabletop. Eddie stands between his legs and his hands sliding up under his shirt, roaming over bare skin, claiming.

Buck groans.

Fuck.

It’s somehow not sloppy. There’s an obscene amount of precision to it, like Eddie’s been waiting for this, thinking about this, mapping out every move in his head before ever making contact.

And Buck?

Buck just wants to be taken apart.

So he does the only logical thing, he tugs Eddie in, hair curling in his fingers, hands gripping at his shirt and pulling, stripping it off in one smooth motion.

The kiss breaks for exactly one second.

And then they’re back at it, like a match striking against a flame, like they can’t exist without being fused together.

And now Buck can touch.

Can run his hands over warm, solid muscle, can feel the way Eddie’s shivers under his palms, can watch goosebumps rise as he presses his fingers against Eddie’s spine, dragging down, down, down. 

“You’re gay,” Buck breathes against Eddie’s lips, like it’s still a miracle to him.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, fingers nimble as he undoes the buttons of Buck’s shirt, parting it like it’s a present he’s been dying to unwrap.

“Love that,” Buck pants, shuddering when Eddie mouths along his jaw.

“Me too,” Eddie mutters, voice rough, wrecked, moving lower, lower, lips hot against his throat.

“We should get married,” Buck groans, head tilting back as Eddie bites at his neck, teeth and tongue and a whole lot of intention.

Eddie hums against his skin, like he’s thinking about it.“Later.” He presses his hands over the bulge in Bucks jeans.

Buck gasps and leans back as Eddie’s mouth dragging lower, pressing open mouthed kisses across his chest, his stomach, hands gripping at his hips. 

“Cool,” Buck chokes out.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

Eddie doesn’t just drag him toward the bedroom, he claims him, fingers tight around Buck’s wrist, pulling him with a certainty that sends heat straight down Buck’s spine. And Buck? Buck ain’t stupid, he follows willingly, no resistance, like he’s meant to be led, like he’s meant to be owned by Eddie Diaz.

It’s perfect. Everything is perfect.

Until it’s not.

Because Eddie doesn’t have a fucking bed.

Buck stops so suddenly it’s like his body forgot how to function.

“Where’s your…?” He gestures wildly at the empty space where a bed should be.

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate. He just steps up behind him, mouth already back on Buck’s neck, lips brushing over sensitive skin, hands sliding possessively across Buck’s stomach.

“Still in storage,” Eddie mutters against his skin, voice low and dangerous.

“Shit,” Buck breathes. Then… wait? “Where have you been sleeping?”

Eddie giggles.

Giggles. Like he’s not actively ruining Buck’s life.

“Buck,” he hums, fingers drifting lower, teasing, playing, controlling, “there is clearly a mattress right there.”

Okay, yeah, fair point.“On the floor,” Buck says, horrified. “Like a broke college student.”

Eddie snorts in his ear, completely unbothered. “It’s comfy,” he says, nipping at Buck’s jaw, fingers dragging up his ribs. “Might not get the frame. Might just leave it like that.”

Buck whips around so fast Eddie has to catch him by the waist.

“I just proposed to you,” he says, voice frantic, “and I get mattress on the floor and no bed ever?”

Eddie just grins at him. “Marriage is about compromise, babe.”

“Oh, fuck that,” Buck declares. “We are fixing this first thing tomorrow.” He points around the room.

“Sure, sure,” Eddie agrees easily, “tomorrow.”And he shoves Buck backward, hard, sending him sprawling onto the mattress with a thump.

The air is almost knocked out of him, but then Eddie is above him, tilting his head in that slow, devastating way, eyes dark, lips curled just slightly as he unzips his jeans with a deliberate slowness that has Buck’s blood running hot.

“Comfy, right?” Eddie asks, voice pure sin, shoving his pants off with ease.

Buck can only nod, sitting up like he’s helpless to do anything else, because… holy fucking shit.

The Yummy Mommies are never going to believe this.

Eddie naked should be illegal. Actually, no, Eddie wearing clothes should be illegal, because Buck never wants to see him in them again. His body is all lean muscle and tanned skin, a light dusting of hair across his chest, strong legs, his cock hard and thick and flushed, and… 

Oh, fuck me.

Literally.

Jesus.

Eddie crawls into his lap, strong thighs caging him in, hands sliding under Buck’s shirt, pulling it down off his shoulders in one smooth movement before sealing their mouths together again, soft and slow and smouldering.

Buck sighs into it, reverent, hands greedy as they explore, running over the broad planes of Eddie’s chest, down his ribs, over his hips, gripping his ass because he can.

Because Eddie is his to touch.

“Mattress isn’t so bad now, right?” Eddie groans against his mouth, and then he pushes Buck down onto the mattress, hips grinding down against him with enough pressure to make Buck’s vision blur at the edges.

“We can live like we’re in a squat if you keep doing that,” Buck moans, eyes fluttering shut as Eddie kisses down his jaw, his throat, biting, sucking, licking, as his fingers work open Buck’s jeans.

Eddie grins up at him, dragging his mouth down Buck’s body, lips brushing over heated skin, breath hot against his stomach. He yanks Buck’s jeans off in one hard tug, his strength an absolute menace.

Eddie settles back over him, pressing Buck into the mattress like they have done this a million times, like he’s meant to be pinned down by Eddie. His hands slide up Buck’s chest, deliberately slow, fingers tracing every dip, every ridge, every part of him that’s flushed and desperate for more.

Buck shudders, gripping Eddie’s thighs, muscles taut and strong. He can’t stop looking, Eddie above him, broad and golden, all power and control and want, eyes dark with hunger.

“This okay?” Eddie murmurs, lips kissing behind his ear teasingly, hands firm as they roam over his body.

Buck’s brain is barely functioning anymore, but he manages to nod, breathless. “Yeah. God, yeah.”

Eddie smirks, satisfied, and shifts his hips, grinding down in one slow, deep roll that has Buck’s entire soul leaving his body.

“Fucking hell, Eddie,” Buck groans, gripping Eddie’s ass, pulling him in.

Eddie laughs, low and wrecked, and kisses him again, hot and filthy, tongue sliding against Buck’s, biting at his lip before moving lower, nipping at his neck, owning every inch of him.

Buck is losing his mind.

Eddie rocks against him again, pressing Buck deeper into the mattress, into the floor, into oblivion, his body strong and steady above him, making Buck feels…small.

Weak.

Owned.

Which makes no sense because he is bigger than Eddie, stronger than Eddie.  

“You like this?” Eddie murmurs, kissing his cheek, voice thick with amusement.

Buck nods rapidly, because yes, because this is exactly what he wants, because Eddie above him like this is everything.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, dragging his mouth back up, hovering over Buck, lips just barely brushing his. “You like me taking care of you?”

“Fuck, Eddie,” Buck moans, lifting his hips into Eddie’s, chasing friction, chasing more.

Eddie hums in approval, grinding down harder, making Buck gasp, making him fall apart, until all he knows is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Eddie hovers over him, breath warm against his lips, voice nothing but a rough whisper laced with promise. “Tell me what you want,” he says, teasing, firm, so fucking in control Buck could cry. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”

Buck whimpers, needy and wrecked, like some desperate, pathetic thing begging to be claimed.

Eddie smirks, all dark amusement and thriving ego, and nips at his bottom lip, hard enough to sting and he rolls his hips back down. “You want it like this?” he asks, voice dangerous and low, just toying with him. 

Buck just nods, frantic, panting.

“Words, Buck.”

“Yes,” he chokes out. “Fuck, yes.”

Eddie hums, pleased, and moves off of him, graceful and effortless across the room, quick and easy like his body is built for control. He returns with lube and a condom, tossing them onto the mattress as he pops the cap open, voice casual but dripping with intent.

“You know I’m pretty new to the liking guys thing,” he murmurs, squeezing lube onto his fingers, “but the Buck thing? I think I worked that out a long time ago.”

Eddie knee walks back over to Buck slow and purposeful, which shouldn’t be sexy, shouldn’t make Buck’s whole body burn the way it does, but somehow, Eddie achieves it. 

Effortlessly.

Buck reaches for him, hands uncertain but needy, fingers curling around his hips. “What’s the Buck thing?” he whispers, barely able to speak.

Eddie just smirks, and reaches behind himself, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting as he groans, slick fingers working himself open, body shuddering as he stretches around his own touch.

Buck stops breathing.

He gapes, helpless, watching Eddie fucking himself on his own fingers while his other hand moves to Buck’s cock, stroking him firmly.

Buck whines, a high pitched, wrecked noise that comes deep from his chest, hips lifting into Eddie’s grip like he’s got no control over himself.

“You want to be taken care of, not because you need it,” Eddie pants, fingers slick and relentless as he preps himself, voice dark with certainty, with power. “You want to be told what to do, what’s happening, so you don’t make a wrong move.”

His hand leaves Buck’s cock and slides up his body, fingers wrapping lightly around his throat, pulling him closer so their lips brush.

“But you can’t make a wrong move with me, Buck,” Eddie whispers, words a claim, a vow. “You can’t do anything wrong.”

Then he kisses him, slow and dirty, his hand sliding into his hairs and pulling tight, like he owns him already, like Buck belongs to him and always has.

“I’d marry you tomorrow,” Eddie breathes against his lips. “I will if that’s what you want.”

Buck’s head is spinning, mind a blur of want and need and of course Eddie knows, of course Eddie wants this.

They’re always right there, always in sync, always on the same page, always, always, always.

Eddie groans, head tilting back, grinding down onto his fingers, body shaking with it.

“I want you,” Eddie moans, voice rough, ragged, devastating. “I want to fucking own you.” He kisses him deep and possessive and Buck gasps into it, moving to touch him, fingers tangling with Eddie’s as he helps, fucking Eddie’s slick fingers deeper, watching as Eddie shudders against him.

Eddie moans, biting down on Buck’s lip hard, before licking over it, coppery blood seeping into Buck’s mouth, mixing with the taste of Eddie. 

“Do it,” Buck begs, shaking and wrecked, he’s so gone.

“I plan to.”

Eddie pulls away just long enough to grab a condom, tearing it open with his teeth before rolling it down Buck cock in one smooth motion.

Then he’s pushing Buck back, pressing him down against the mattress, caging him in, devouring him. Eddie lifts up, lining Buck’s cock against his hole and sinks down onto it, slow and steady, stretching around him, slick and tight, nails digging into Buck’s chest, leaving marks like possession, like he’s staking his fucking claim.

Buck lets out a strangled, desperate whine, head pressing back into the mattress, body breaking apart beneath Eddie’s touch. Above him, Eddie just grins, slow and indulgent, like he has all the time in the world. “So perfect,” Eddie sighs, his body sinking fully against Buck’s, adjusting, savouring. “All I want.”

Buck exhales, deep and shaky, eyes fixed on Eddie like he’s the only thing that exists. He could watch him forever. Doesn’t even have to be like this. It could be like Sol, he’d just watch Eddie sitting at the kitchen table, existing, and Buck would still be completely, utterly enthralled. 

Eddie moves, slow at first, lifting up and sinking back down with agonising, calculated precision. His smile shifts, softens, turns something almost serene, like he’s exactly where he belongs.

Buck is gone for it, lost in it, legs spreading wider, heels digging into the mattress as his hands clutch at Eddie’s hips, desperate to ground himself before he fully unravels.

He’s just so fucking beautiful, cheeks flushed, sun kissed skin glowing, sweat beading along his collarbone. He leans back slightly, one hand sliding over Buck’s forearm, the other bracing against his knee as he starts to move faster, finding a rhythm that’s all consuming. His head tilts back, throat bared, and he lets out a deep, wrecked fuuck that Buck feels all the way down to his bones.

His body moves like the ocean, rolling, powerful, effortless. His cock is hard, leaking against his stomach, untouched and desperate, and Buck swears he’s never seen anything more perfect in his life.

He wants Eddie to have it all.

It’s intoxicating, earth shattering. 

Buck doesn’t believe in God, but if He exists, then He made Eddie for this. To take. To keep. To have whatever he wants and Buck will give him everything.

Buck is obsessed, practically vibrating under Eddie, lost in the sheer intensity of it. He barely making a sound now, beyond breathless, beyond thought, while Eddie mutters something incoherent, some reverent, desperate string of words like he’s praying to a higher power.

Buck gets it now.

It’s not just about being owned. It’s about owning Eddie too.

Something clicks in him, some primal, undeniable need he’s never felt quite so strongly before and suddenly, he’s flipping them, pinning Eddie down against the mattress, taking over. His hands grip Eddie’s thighs, spreading him wide and lifting hips up of the mattress, and then he’s driving back into him, relentless, demanding to hear him fall apart.

“Fucking hell, Buck, you—” Eddie gasps, voice breaking, and then- nothing. Just incoherent, wrecked noises, like he’s lost all ability to form words at all.  

Buck wants to understand. Wants to learn whatever language Eddie is speaking so he can talk back, so he can say I know, me too, I feel it too.

But he can’t think, can’t focus, because his mission is clear now, make Eddie his.

So instead, he swallows every word Eddie tries to say, kissing him messy and deep, while Eddie clings to him, pulling him closer like he never wants to let go.

They move together with a singular purpose, bodies perfectly in sync, and Buck fucks into Eddie like a man possessed. Like he’s staking his own claim, like he’s rewriting the very fabric of the universe, making sure it knows, Eddie belongs to him, and he belongs to Eddie.

It’s damn near perfect, no it’s beyond perfect. Faultless. Flawless. Consummate. Quintessential. Like they were built for this, for each other. Every push and pull, every give and take, their bodies moving together in a rhythm so natural it feels like they’ve been doing this forever.

And when it starts to crest, that too much, too good, too fucking close feeling tearing through Buck’s body, he knows. 

This isn’t the end of anything. 

This is the beginning.

This is forever.

“Fuck, Eddie—” Buck groans, his thrusts turning desperate, his hand wrapped around Eddie’s cock, stroking him through it, pushing them both over the edge together in a spectacular, possessive wave of ecstasy.

He barely remembers how to breathe, but somehow, his body still knows, keep touching, keep holding, don’t let go.

Buck isn’t the clingy type after sex, he learnt that the hard way, he knows better. Usually, he’s either a clean up and leave or a nap and relax kind of guy.

But that? That apparently changes today.

Because even when it’s over, it’s not. They clutch at each other, panting, sticky, still trembling with the aftershocks, but it doesn’t matter. Their mouths meet again, like they have to, like they’ve only just discovered what kissing can really be.

It’s filthy, slow, deep, all tongue and teeth and heat, like they’re trying to climb inside each other, like they never want to stop.

Buck groans into Eddie’s mouth, dragging his hands over sweat slicked skin, nails scratching just enough to make Eddie shudder beneath him.

“You always kiss like that?” Buck murmurs, voice rough and teasing against Eddie’s lips. “Or is this just a finally getting dicked down thing?”

Eddie huffs out a breathless laugh, tilting his head to bite at Buck’s jaw. “Guess you’ll have to keep fucking me to find out.”

Buck whimpers. Like, actually whimpers.

“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” His hips give an involuntary roll, rubbing up against Eddie’s thigh, still sensitive but already wanting. “You trying to kill me?”

“Nah,” Eddie smirks, dragging a hand down Buck’s chest, fingers tracing over his stomach, lingering just above where Buck can’t possibly need him, but wants him nonetheless. “I’m trying to keep you alive. You think you can handle that for me, sweetheart?”

Buck lets out a breathless chuckle, dropping his forehead against Eddie’s, completely, hopelessly gone. “Oh, baby, anything for you.”

And then they’re kissing again, hands exploring, trading little dirty secrets between gasps and groans, teasing touches and heated promises, because this?

This is so far from over.

“Why are we up so early?” Eddie groans, leaning into Buck like his body has just given up. “It’s our day off. We could be sleeping. We could be having morning sex. We could be doing literally anything but this.”

Buck rolls his eyes but he’s disgustingly happy since they got together and he secretly finds it adorable. “Stop moaning. It’s not cute.”

That’s a blatant lie. It’s actually ridiculously cute. But Buck isn’t about to give up all his secrets.

Eddie sighs dramatically. “What even is this?” He kicks a stone as they head deeper into the park.  “I hate morning runs, you hate morning runs. Let’s just turn around.”

Buck grins, clapping him on the shoulder like he’s about to impart some great wisdom. “This, my perfect boyfriend, is the Yummy Mommies group chat in real life.”

Eddie stops in his tracks and stares at him horrified. “You’re not serious, you dragged me out of bed for my worst fucking nightmare. I don’t want to meet the real life version of your weird mom group?”

“First of all,” Buck huffs, “it’s not weird, it’s exclusive. Secondly, you’re already an honorary member. You’ve had the whole hot but exhausted single parent thing down for years. You’re perfect for this.”

Eddie looks seconds away from turning around and walking right back to the car. “Buck, I swear to God-“

“No swearing around the Yummy Mommies,” Buck interrupts, wagging a finger at him, even though Veronica swears like a sailor. “We keep it PG unless we’re discussing Mindy Paulson or husbands who don’t pull their weight, now come.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, tangling their fingers and drags him to the huddle he can see by the benches. 

Eddie groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “I cannot believe you’re making me do this.”

Buck just grins,“Oh, come on Eddie this is far from the worst thing I’ve made you do, you haven’t even met the group yet. You’re gonna love them.”

Eddie mumbles something under his breath that Buck definitely hears but chooses to ignore.

Like it or not, Eddie Diaz is joining the Yummy Mommies today.

“Girls,” Buck calls out, and instantly, they all turn to them, like sharks scenting blood in the water.

Eddie, to his credit, does not immediately bolt. But Buck sees the way his shoulders tense, the barely there flicker of oh shit in his eyes.

“Eddie!” Amy greets him with the enthusiasm of a woman reuniting with her long lost friend, despite literally never having met him before.

Veronica waggles her eyebrows at Buck like she’s just been handed a new favourite pastime and he levels her with a warning look, the kind he uses at work when the probie is about to do something stupid. Do not scare him. He’s a flight risk.

Rachel and Jess, meanwhile, are whispering way too obviously, heads tilted together like they’re discussing classified information.

“They don’t make them like that at my kid’s school,” Jess mutters, not nearly quiet enough.

“Or mine,” Rachel agrees, shooting Buck a look. “Congratulations, he’s better in person.”

Buck grins, smug as hell. “Thanks.”

Eddie looks moments away from combusting. His entire face is so red, Buck can feel the heat radiating off of him.

“We have heard so much about you,” Amy adds excitedly.  

“Oh… uhh-” Eddie fumbles, eyes flicking to Buck like he’s begging for backup.

Not a chance.

“All good things!” Buck assures him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and giving him a solid you’re stuck now, buddy squeeze. “Well, mostly good. There was some concern you might be too hot and destabilise the group dynamic, but—”

“BUCK.” Eddie hisses, face now reaching critical meltdown levels.

The girls all giggle, like a pack of teenagers and Veronica full on fans herself.

“This is the best day of my life,” she sighs. “Do you see him? We need more school dads like this.”

Eddie looks like he wants to crawl into the earth and die.

Buck, meanwhile, is positively thriving.

Buck told them to be over the top, to make Eddie squirm… but this?

This is even better than he imagined.

Eddie isn’t just squirming, he’s actively suffering. He shifts uncomfortably under the weight of far too much attention, his jaw tight, his eyes darting to Buck in pure, fuming betrayal.

Buck just grins back, perfectly innocent.

“So, Eddie,” Amy starts, practically purring his name. “How does it feel to be the luckiest man alive?”

“Excuse me?” Eddie deadpans, but it’s too late, he’s caught in their trap.

“Well,” Rachel says, gesturing dramatically toward Buck like he’s some rare, highly sought after artifact. “You bagged this one… Daddy Longlegs is the hottest disaster of the Yummy Mommies. We all placed bets on how long it would take before you finally snapped him up, I lost, by the way, I said it would take another six months.”

“I said it would never happen,” Veronica sighs wistfully. “Thought he was doomed to a life of pining and loneliness.”

“Don’t forget the suffering,” Jess adds, shaking her head like she’s deeply affected by Buck’s past emotional turmoil. “That boy pined loudly, we had to endure so much sighing.”

“And now all we get is unsolicited selfies,” Amy sighs. “You think your boyfriend is hot, we get it, Buck.”

“No, because, honestly,” Rachel interrupts, tilting her head like she’s assessing Eddie, “Is he real? Like, how did you manage this? Look at him. That’s not fair. That’s cheating.”

“I told you,” Buck smirks, pulling Eddie closer, balancing his chin on Eddie’s tense shoulder, “hot and responsible. The ultimate combo.”

“God,” Jess groans, “it’s like you manifested him.”

Eddie is visibly withering under the sheer force of their attention. “Are they happy we’re together or not?” He asks confused. 

“Of course we’re happy,” Jess grins. “You’re being celebrated. We’re in awe. Worshiping at the altar of Diaz.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie mutters, rubbing his temples like he’s developing a stress migraine. “I don’t like this at all.”

“You walked into a fan club,” Buck teases, pressing a quick, smug kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “Welcome to the rest of your life, babe.”

The girls all cheer. Eddie sighs deeply, but Buck can see the way his lips twitch, like, maybe, just maybe, he kind of loves it too.

Eddie brought Christopher and their home into their relationship and Buck brought their fish son Sol, and the yummy mommies.

And Eddie is so welcome.