Chapter Text
"God, you’re hot as fuck."
Buck frowned before he could stop himself. It was instinct, a knee-jerk reaction that didn’t fit the moment. He should have smiled, should have played along, let the praise from this stranger settle into his skin and consume his soul like it used to in the past. The guy in front of him was attractive, sure- tall, dark hair, cocky smile- but Buck barely processed any of that.
"Thanks… you’re not so bad yourself," he mumbled, lifting his drink to his lips. The words felt forced, like he was reading from a script he didn’t quite believe in. The guy hesitated for a second, shifting slightly. Maybe Buck’s tone had thrown him off.
"Bad breakup?" he asked.
Buck let out a dry laugh at the irony of it all.
"No."
Not exactly.
"Do you not want to be here or something?"
"I do," Buck said too quickly. Then, forcing a smirk, "I just- needed a drink first."
It was a lie. He was already four drinks in, and none of them were doing what he wanted them to.
"I’m Nate, by the way," the guy said, watching him closely.
Buck nodded, giving his name without thinking. Nate seemed interested, and Buck wished he could give more, but he was tired and his mask was slipping.
"So, what’s your deal, Buck? You waiting on someone?”
Buck exhaled sharply through his nose. No, that’s the problem. No one’s coming back for me.
"Nah," he looked away again. "Just seeing where the night takes me."
Nate smirked, leaning in slightly. "I could take you." His voice dropped lower, Buck stared at him for a second, unimpressed.
"Uh, yeah. I bet you could," he muttered, going through the motions.
It should have felt exciting. It should have sparked something in him. God, how he wished it would spark something in him. Because the only person he could think about right now was a thousand miles away, probably asleep in a quiet house in Texas. Completely unaware that Buck was standing in a bar, letting another random stranger hit on him, trying to outrun the fact that no one else was ever going to feel right. No one else could be Eddie Diaz.
Buck hated this.
Eddie’s place- his place now, was too big, too still. This house wasn’t meant to be empty. It was meant to be filled with laughter, with Chris’ voice shouting from his room about some new Minecraft update, with Eddie clanking around the kitchen and chastising him for picking up the wrong kind of beer again.
Instead, it was just Buck, sitting in the dimly lit living room, a disgustingly stale beer half-empty in his hand, a shitty reality show playing on the TV just for background noise. He barely looked at it.
The couch still smelled like Eddie’s cologne.
Buck ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. He hadn’t realized how much of his life had revolved around Eddie and Christopher until they weren’t here anymore. Chris leaving hurt. But Eddie leaving?
El Paso.
800 miles.
12 hours.
It still didn’t feel real.
He didn’t blame Eddie- not really? He was no saint, and the thought of Eddie leaving him hurt at first. But Christopher was his son, and Buck understood that if Chris needed him, there was no question. Chris came first.
But still.
The first few weeks were fine. Buck threw himself into work, the same way he always did when things got hard. Chim wasn’t back at work yet, with Maddie still in the hospital recovering. Shifts were his escape. The 118 was busy, there was always something for him to do, always something to keep him focused.
But then, shifts ended. And Buck had to go home. Buck hated going home alone. He hated that when he still had the loft, and he thinks he hates it more now in Eddie’s house. He couldn’t fill the void.
Buck 4.0, right? He wasn't really counting his updates anymore. He finished the drink in his hands and eyed the bar. Today, he felt a little out of his element- he wasn’t going to lie. It’s been so long since he’s done something like this- but he’s ready. An actual date. Not just meaningless hookups, like he had been having for the past few weeks. Hen had been the one to suggest it, and he could never turn her down.
“Her name is Cassie, and she’s a graphic designer. She and Karen are pretty good friends.” Hen showed him a photo of her during a slow shift. Pretty. Brunette. Olive skin. Buck agreed easily. Now he kinda wishes he hadn’t.
The date had been excruciating.
Cassie was nice, in theory. She was pretty, she had a great job, and she automatically had the “Henrietta Wilson- Stamp of Approval”. She talked a lot- about art, about her job, about the different kinds of fonts that irritated her (who knew there were so many?). But even she could tell that the date was going south with the way she had kept ordering shots for the table. The bill ended up being over $200. Buck felt like the least he could do was front the cost. By the time he stumbled into his apartment- slightly buzzed and completely over it- his first instinct was to grab his phone. Before he could let his mind catch up to what he was doing, he was already dialing.
The ringing barely lasted two seconds before the familiar voice answered with a tired grumble.
"Eddieeee?" Buck's voice dragged out his name, a little too loud, a little too gone.
There was a pause on the other end, then a sigh.
"Buck… Are you drunk?"
"I think so?" Buck squinted at the half-empty bottle of beer he had grabbed on his way inside. "Yeah. Yeah, probably."
"Jesus." Eddie exhaled, and Buck could hear the exasperation. But it was layered with something else. Something fond.
"Did you know," Buck continued, completely ignoring him, "that there are, like, a million types of fonts? Like, soooooo many. And some of them make people really angry."
"Fonts? Buck, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Cassie." Buck groaned, flopping down on the couch. "I had a date today."
"Ah." There was a small chuckle now, barely there, but Buck caught it.
"It was so bad, Eddie. I think Hen’s going to be mad at me."
"I’m sure it wasn’t that bad."
Buck huffed. "I should just give up dating, honestly. Retire. Hang up my jersey. Call it a day."
"You sound dramatic."
"I am dramatic."
Eddie hummed, like he wouldn’t argue with that. Buck sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His limbs were heavy, his head was warm from the alcohol, and the only thing keeping him tethered was the low sound of Eddie’s voice in his ear.
"You’re not retiring," Eddie said after a moment, quieter now. "You just… haven’t found the right person yet."
Buck swallowed. Something in his chest lurched.
"Yeah," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Maybe."
There was a long pause between them. The kind that felt full, like words were sitting on the tip of their tongues, waiting for someone to be brave enough to say them.
"Get some sleep, Buck," Eddie finally said.
Buck smiled sleepily.
"Only cause you said so."
Hen had come over to his (Eddie's) house the morning after his disastrous date, still half-laughing at his misery while swearing she would never set him up again.
"I am officially retiring from matchmaking," she declared, sprawled on his couch with a cup of coffee (they would have brought out the tequila if Hen didn’t have to pick up her kids soon).
"That was my last attempt. You are on your own, Buckaroo."
“Too kind of you, Henrietta" Buck deadpanned, sipping his coffee. Hen smirked but didn’t let it last long. She sipped her own drink, eyes flicking toward Buck’s phone as it buzzed again. It was probably the 4th time it went off since she had arrived. He barely looked before swiping the notification away.
"Who was that?" Hen’s voice was light, but Buck could hear the edge underneath it.
He shook his head, trying to play it off. "No one important."
Hen sighed, setting her cup down.
"Buck, I know you’re going through a lot with your break up with Tommy-"
Buck stiffened at the mention.
“-and now with Eddie leaving… I just. I’m worried about you.” Hen sighed, placing the coffee on the table. Buck frowned at her.
"Why? I… I’m fine, Hen."
Hen gave him the don’t bullshit me right now look. The kind that made it clear she knew he was full of it.
"Because the Buck I knew worked hard to avoid doing things like this."
"The Buck you knew…?” Buck asked, his voice slightly high strung, knowing exactly what Hen was alluding to.
Hen hesitated, like she was choosing her next words carefully.
"Are you back on that app?"
Buck felt something sharp twist in his gut.
"Hen, I’m not doing anything wrong… it’s not like before when- you know..." His voice trailed off.
"I know," she said, gentler now. "But… is this what you really want?" She held his gaze. He just shrugged, placing his cup on the counter and rubbing his eyes.
"Have you been sleeping around again Buck?"
"Hen." His voice held disbelief and frustration and all of a sudden, his voice felt too raw. His face burned up with something uncomfortably close to shame.
"Buck, I think-"
"I’m a 33-year-old man who just discovered he’s bisexual, Hen." He cut in, voice sharper than he intended. He sighed lightly. "I think I am allowed to have a little fun?"
“Buck it’s… it’s different now. Your pool has expanded, and I’m just not sure you’re in the right headspace to protect yourself-“
“Hen, as much as I appreciate you saying that, you have nothing to worry about. I am fine. I’m being safe. And I would never let my personal life affect my job again.” I’m not broken. I’m not slipping.
Hen exhaled through her nose, the disappointment clear in her face. She studied him for a long moment, then shook her head, standing up.
"Yeah. Okay," she said, almost resigned. "I gotta pick up Denny and Mara from school. Just- take care of yourself, ok? Text me if you need someone to hang out with." Buck could read the subtext. Don’t go looking around for trouble if you get bored. He nodded.
“Oh- Hen? Can… we keep this between us?” Buck asked nervously. The last thing he wanted was Bobby to find out and start thinking he was going to let this affect his work again. Hen pursed her lips.
“Yeah.” she mumbled, and it wasn't entirely convincing but Buck felt himself sighing with relief.
The next shift was Chimney’s first shift back and Buck couldn’t be more grateful for the distraction. Having Chim around again made things feel normal again for the first time in a while. He was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen with Bobby when his phone rang. Eddie.
“Cap, can I take a minute?” He asked quickly, waving his phone in his hand and getting a quick approval from Bobby. Buck picked up the phone and as his eyes lingered towards the couch where Hen and Chim were reading something. Hen looks up and catches his eyes, immediately looking back down to her book. Hm. Weird.
"Hey man, what’s up?"
"Buck." Eddie sounded uncomfortable, making Buck frown a little.
"What’s up?" Buck asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. He could hear Chris saying something in the background. They’d been doing pretty well with what Buck could tell from Eddie’s updates.
"Just checking in," Eddie said, clearly trying to act casual. "How are you?"
"I’m good," Buck said automatically.
"Buck, if you ever need to talk to someone-“
Buck blinked. "What?"
“I just… maybe I haven’t been seeing the signs-" Eddie said, his voice becoming suddenly quieter over the phone.
Buck felt his jaw clench.
"What signs?” Buck already knew.
"Buck come on, don’t make me spell it out loud in front of my kid." My kid. Oh- that one hurt Buck a little more than it should. Buck could feel the heat rising under his skin.
"Unbelievable," he muttered.
"What?"
"She tattled on me?"
Buck could practically hear Eddie thinking through how to respond.
"Hen’s worried about you," Eddie said carefully. "She’s-"
"Oh, fuck that." Buck snapped. "I told her I was fine. It’s really not any of her business, and honestly it’s not yours either, Eddie."
"Buck-"
"No. You don’t get to just “check in” from Texas and act like you care about what I do in my free time."
"That’s not what’s happening."
"Really? Because I think that’s exactly what’s happening here."
"Buck," Eddie’s voice was low, steady, but there was something tight in it. "Of course I care. I’ve always cared. That’s not going to change- no matter how far away I am from you."
Buck swallowed, something bitter settling in his throat. He knew Eddie cared. Hell, he knew Hen cared. It was so much easier when people didn’t care. At least then he had no one he could disappoint.
"Gotta go, I’ll call later" he muttered, ignoring Eddie’s protests before hanging up. Before he could stop himself, he was moving towards the couch- towards Hen who was looking up at him with a slightly guilty expression.
“Buck- before you say anything-”
“I cannot believe you. You went to Eddie?” Buck’s voice was quiet but sharp, directed right at Hen barely blinked at the accusation, meeting his glare head-on. Chim, on the other hand, shifted uncomfortably, clearly not in the loop.
“Uh, Buckaroo, maybe take a deep breath, man- none of us are-”
“I did, Buck. Because you weren’t listening to me.” Hen interrupted, her voice steady, unwavering.
Buck exhaled a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Right. That’s great, Hen."
Hen sighed, shoulders tense. “I thought he could at least get through to you. Buck, I swear, I was just trying-”
“Trying to help? I don’t need help!” Buck cut her off, voice tight with frustration.
“Buck,” Bobby interjected, now walking over to the couch area where they were at. The rest of the crew looked a little uncomfortable, trying to divert their eyes from the unraveling mess.
Buck ignored the warning.
“I told you I was fine, and you still don’t trust me enough to-”
“Buck,” Bobby warned again, firmer this time.
But Buck couldn’t stop himself. “Who else have you told? Did you go to Cap too?”
Hen’s expression faltered for the first time, guilt flashing across her features before she steadied herself. She shook her head, her voice quieter now. “You know I wouldn’t do that, Buck.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest like it could hold him together.
“Do I, Hen?” His voice was sharp but wavering, almost like he was fighting back tears.
Hen’s shoulders dropped slightly.
“Buck, I think you should take a walk.” Bobby spoke up.
His jaw clenched. “Cap-”
Bobby didn’t need to say anything. The look he gave Buck was enough. That quiet, steady disappointment, the kind that somehow cut deeper than if he had just yelled. Buck swallowed hard, his breath uneven. He nodded once, his brows furrowed uncomfortably, and he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair. Without another word, he turned and walked out. Hen let out a slow breath, looking over at Bobby.
“He’s not okay Bobby.” She murmured.
Bobby sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “No. He’s not.”