Archive of Our Own

“Okay,” Buck says, collapsing beside Eddie on the sofa with a glint in his eyes that almost definitely means trouble, “before you say no, remember that I already said yes for both of us, so you don’t actually have a choice.”

The TV in the loft is soft and fuzzy like all things are in the early hours before dawn, infomercials playing quietly on a loop. Eddie mutes it halfway through a Shamwow commercial and turns to face Buck, who shoots him a nervous grin. 

“What did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything?” Buck huffs, leaning in to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder. The tips of his hair tickle the underside of Eddie’s jaw, allowing Eddie to catch a whiff of whatever conditioner he’s currently using - coconut, apparently. Buck cycles through hair products like other people do relationships. “I mean, I did, but it’s not just for me. Or even us. It’s for the good of the firehouse.”

“The good of the firehouse.”

“Yeah,” Buck grins up at him, brilliant. “And also for a hundred grand.”

“I’m not helping you rob a bank.”

“It’s not a bank - God.” Buck pouts, his bottom lip bright pink and kissable. Eddie pointedly reins that thought back in before it can progress any further. “It’s reality TV.”

Eddie waits a beat, and then a second, just to ensure that he’s not completely hallucinating, before responding.

“No.”

“You can’t say no!” Buck protests, even though Eddie’s ninety-nine percent sure he just did. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

On the TV in front of them, a woman is now vigorously dicing onions with the help of her brand-new Slap Chop. Eddie watches the number flashing on the bottom of the screen, neon burning into his retinas. 

“Alright,” he says finally, humoring him, because it’s three in the morning and he can’t sleep and Buck is a line of warmth against him, his body slotting neatly into Eddie’s side like it was made to fit there. “Tell me. What’s it about?”

Buck straightens up as if he’s been preparing ages for this exact moment. Knowing Buck, he probably has.

“It’s, like, a firefighting competition,” he says, voice rehearsed. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised if he found cue cards hidden in their shared locker later. “But it’s all done in pairs, and if you win, they’ll also upgrade your station. The lady who called me yesterday said that they saw a bunch of our rescues on YouTube-” Eddie winces at that; he has enough trauma about his own worst days on the job without it being turned into clickbait fodder on the internet, thanks- “and she wants us to come and meet their team. They’re, like, hosting it all in this giant house in Nevada, so even if we don’t make it far, we’d at least get a free vacation.”

“If I’m going on a free vacation, I’m not going to Nevada.”

“You would if I was there,” Buck smiles up at him, cheeky, and Eddie hates that he can’t even disagree. “It’s only, like, for a week, and I already checked and they’re filming when Chris is away at camp. It’s perfect.”

It does sound - well, not perfect, because Eddie has a lot of reservations about being on reality TV, including the massive fucking fact that he doesn’t trust anyone who makes those shows as far as he can throw them - but. Kind of fun, maybe. A little too much fun.

He narrows his eyes at Buck, suddenly suspicious.

“What’s the catch?” 

Buck’s grin is brilliant, ecstatic. “No catch. Except - well.” He fidgets with the front of his shirt, so hard he nearly sends a button flying. “Except the fact that we’d have to date.”

-

Eddie says yes.

It’s not like Buck forces him, is the thing, despite all of his earlier wheedling. When Eddie asks him what their next steps are, he’s in shock more than anything, nearly upending the giant vanilla latte Eddie bought him on their way to work that morning all over himself.

“Really?” He asks, eyes wide. His fingers are drumming on the top of the wooden table, a staccato beat. “I mean - I know I was the one who brought it up, but you didn’t have to agree. I would have understood.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and he means it. It’s just - even after splitting the winnings with Buck, $50,000 is a lot of money, and LA’s not a cheap city by any means. He’s just about breaking even, between his never-ending rent payments and Chris’s school, and when you add in the fact that Chris will likely need all new uniforms and new crutches for the upcoming year thanks to yet another growth spurt? The decision becomes easy, at that point. 

(There’s also a small part of Eddie, deep in his chest, that reminds him he’s not doing this solely for altruistic purposes, but also for Buck - Buck, who he’s been hopelessly in love even before he had the words to, Buck, who held his hand through Eddie’s breakdown and subsequent coming out, who makes breakfast for Christopher in the morning and accompanies them both to the zoo. If Buck’s idea of fun is appearing on a trashy reality TV show, then - well. Eddie’s just happy to be along for the ride.)

(Frank buries his face in his hands when Eddie tells him, but doesn’t expressly tell him not to go. Eddie takes that to mean that he thinks it’s a good decision.)

So he signs the paperwork Buck emails to him and has an awkward Zoom call with Buck and the producers, where they expertly dance around normally easy questions like “when did you two start dating” and “do you live together yet” with an ease that comes from being mistaken for a couple pretty much once a week. Eddie tries not to think too hard about why that is.

That’s followed by an in-person meeting with the executive team and a screen test and a bunch of background checks, and then finally, finally, Eddie gets a call in late June that they’ve been officially cast for the inaugural season of Burning Up, which Eddie thinks is the stupidest name ever but makes Buck laugh so hard he nearly cries. 

“I want it on record,” Eddie says, as they’re driving in their rental car away from the Las Vegas airport to the hotel that’s hosting them their first night, “if we get the villain edit, I’m blaming you.”

Buck grins on him from the driver’s seat, snapback on backwards and aviators perched low on his nose. “Noted. Although,” he adds, contemplative, “I’m just hoping to have at least one fake fight. I need to push you into a pool fully clothed.”

“What makes you think they’ll have a pool?”

“These shows always have a pool,” Buck says definitively, pulling into a seedy-looking Motel 6 just off the highway. Eddie lingers behind as Buck handles checking in, rattling off the reservation number production sent over via email last week, and tries his best not to fall asleep on one of the pleather lounge couches.

He isn’t successful, if the way Buck nudges him awake ten minutes later is any indication, the dim light making him look shadowy and fond. 

“Come on, sleepy,” he says, reaching out a hand to pull Eddie up. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Bed sounds good,” Eddie agrees, following Buck down an equally dim hallway and up two flights of stairs to their temporary accommodations, the key card flashing green as he pushes the door wide open.

And then - stops.

“Oh,” Buck says weakly, as if remembering the reason why they’re doing this. “Right.”

The room is standard, a small armchair in one corner, a faux-wood table under the mirror. To Eddie’s chagrin, there’s no coffee to be found, but they’ve clearly been expecting them, if the Welcome, Burning Up Contestants! sign taped to the bathroom door is any indication.

And the bed. The very large, very prominent, king-size bed, smack dab in the middle of the room.

“I can take the floor?” Eddie offers, already eyeing the heavy quilt at the end of the mattress carefully. If he bunches it right, it’ll probably serve as a decent bedroll, at least for a night.

Buck shakes his head, nearly knocking his aviators off in the process.

“You have old man bones,” he reminds Eddie, nudging his side. Eddie wants to argue, but Buck’s eyebrow raise makes him think better of it. “And anyways,” he adds, wry, “we’ve already shared a bed before. It’s not like I don’t know you snore.”

It’s not like he’s wrong - they practically all lived on top of each other back in 2020, piled in Buck’s loft as the world around them changed. But it’s - different, now. Now that Eddie knows how he feels about Buck, no longer buried under ten layers of repression and trauma. Eddie knew they would have to be on in front of the cameras - had been preparing for it, really - but it’s different, to know that they’ll be entangled in each other before filming even starts.

“Okay,” he admits, flopping down on the - surprisingly comfortable - mattress. On any other given day, he would probably push a little bit harder, but if he’s being honest with himself, he’s too exhausted to care. “What time do they want us in the lobby tomorrow?”

“Um.” Buck checks his phone, brow furrowed. “Five in the morning, I think. Why?”

He shucks off his shoes and joins Eddie on the bed, turning his face so that they’re eye-to-eye. Eddie imagines what it would be like to lean in and kiss him, to feel the soft press of his lips against his own.

“We should probably get our story straight tonight, then,” he says hoarsely, forcing himself to look anywhere but Buck’s mouth. “They’ll make us do interviews first. It’s bound to come up.”

Buck huffs a laugh, so close that Eddie can feel it on his skin. “I thought we were just sticking with the truth? That we met at work? That’s what they put on the forms, anyways.”

Eddie had seen the forms, mostly filled out by the producer - red-haired, irritating - that recruited them in the first place, clearly extrapolated from the few videos she had watched. Most of it had been accurate, honestly - it’s hard not to be, when so many of their incidents were heavily publicized - but there were still gaps, gaps she assured them that they could just fill in once they got to the set. 

“No, I mean, like,” Eddie says, mouth suddenly dry. “When was our first kiss? Where did we go on our first date? Stuff like that.”

“Oh.” Buck twists the blanket in his left hand, absentminded. “I mean - I guess. We told them we had been dating for a year, right? So that would have been right after you - uh.” He clears his throat. “After you got shot.”

“We could go for the melodrama. Say that you threw yourself on me in the hospital bed.”

Buck snorts. “Definitely not. What about at home, when you were recovering? I practically lived there, anyways - it’s believable.”

It is believable. A little too believable, honestly, just blurring the edges of reality, but Eddie can’t bring himself to care.

“That works. First date?”

“Not a restaurant,” Buck says, automatic. “Like - I don’t know. A walk in the park?” Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and he sighs. “I just feel like if we were dating, we’d just continue on how we already were. Just with, uh-”

“Sex?”

“I was going to say holding hands, asshole.”

“Sure you were.” They’re both dancing around the subject at hand, and Eddie knows it. He lets out a deep sigh. “They’re going to want us to kiss. I mean - we’re dating. Or,” he amends, hastily, “they think we’re dating.”

“Right.” There’s a bead of sweat trickling down Buck’s forehead, disappearing into the mess of curls near his ear. Eddie watches it, mesmerized. “Should we - like. Practice?”

“Practice?”

“Practice kissing, I mean?” Two more droplets of sweat appear on Buck’s face. Eddie wonders if he’s feeling okay. “It would be weird if we kissed on camera and didn’t know what to do.”

There are a million and one reasons why they shouldn’t, starting with the fact that Eddie’s hopelessly in love with Buck and ending with the knowledge that if Eddie starts kissing Buck, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to stop. But Buck’s looking at him, blue eyes wide and so, so trusting, and Eddie finds himself agreeing anyways. 

“I think that’s probably a good idea.”

“Great.” Buck scoots closer, until they’re lying on the same pillow, so close that Eddie can count the individual freckles on his cheeks. “Should I just - uh. Go for it?”

“Just kiss me already, Buck.”

“Right,” Buck nods, as if steeling himself against something, and leans in. 

It’s not a deep kiss, or even particularly long, but it’s enough - enough for every single one of Eddie’s nerve endings to stand on edge, enough to make him realize that he may be in way over his head. When Buck pulls back, far too soon, Eddie’s body mourns the loss intimately. 

“I think that’s good,” he says, voice rough. “That should - uh. They should believe that.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, soft. He takes a deep breath, blows it out. “Eddie-”

Eddie’s phone buzzes on the night table, loud and jarring. He reaches to silence it, but Buck’s already moving away, shooting Eddie a wry grin.

“Guess that’s our cue to head to bed.”

“Guess so,” Eddie agrees, unmoving. He can’t help but feel like he’s just missed out on something, although he can’t quite put his finger on what. “Hey, you okay?”

“Who, me?” Buck looks up from where he’s been rifling through his bag for clothes. “Never better.” He tosses a shirt Eddie’s way, laughs when it hits his face. “Come on. Let’s go to sleep.”

-

It’s seven thirty in the morning, and Eddie’s regretting every single one of his life choices.

“A foam run,” he says dubiously to the red hair producer that recruited them - Taylor, apparently, clipboard tucked under one arm as she scrutinizes him top to bottom. Beside them, Buck fidgets with the strap of the too-small suspenders they’ve forced him into, taut over his bare chest. Eddie’s trying valiantly not to look, but his resolve is weakening by the second. “Isn’t that, like, extremely toxic?”

Taylor just shrugs, looking vaguely unconcerned. “You don’t have to be in it long. Just jog down to the main building and wave at the camera.” She taps something on her phone, ruby-red nails flashing in the sun. “Did someone grab you both mic packs? We want some footage of you guys yelling at the end, Spartacus-style. Think, like, a primal roar.”

Primal roar, Buck mouths behind her back, looking very much like he’s about to burst out laughing. Eddie can’t help but shoot a helpless smile in response.

It’s pretty much been his default face all morning, through the Uber ride to the Burning Up resort and the subsequent time spent in the hair and makeup trailers, followed by a safety briefing that, in Eddie’s semi-expert opinion, was about seven times too short and missing some pivotal information. He’d nearly turned around and walked out when they had shown them their so-called uniforms for the next week - the aforementioned suspenders and a pair of turnout pants so thin they may as well be made out of gossamer - but then Buck had looked at him, grin wide and brilliant, and Eddie had stayed.

And now, despite his protests, is about to run through a field as a bunch of trucks douse him and Buck in maybe-toxic foam.

“You owe me, like, so many pancake breakfasts when we get back home,” Eddie grumbles, half teasing, as they’re led over to their first mark. Buck beams at him, the sunlight turning his hair gold.

“I’ll even add extra blueberries,” he promises, and then someone yells from over by the line of cameras, and Eddie - runs.

It’s, like, objectively ridiculous, trying to look sexy and smoldering as too-cold foam pelts him in the face. Eddie’s pretty sure he’ll have foam coming out of his ears for at least a month, but it’s also weirdly fun, screaming with Buck as they reach the last set of cameras, sweaty and soaked and laughing. 

“That was good,” Taylor says, so whatever ‘primal roar’ means, Eddie’s pretty sure he nailed it. “You guys can go around back now. Someone will come and grab you for interviews shortly.”

Eddie accepts the towel thrust at him by a scared-looking PA and wipes his face, blinking rapidly as a droplet of foam lands in one eye. There’s a camera fixed on them down the field, and he really hopes they aren’t recording right now - the last thing he needs is for some producer to turn his foam-induced tears into an emotional crying scene.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Buck says, as they leave the cameras behind and head towards the villa, a three-story white stucco building with - just as Buck predicted - a giant pool in the back. “I mean, aside from the fact that it was probably horrifically toxic.”

Eddie takes an experimental sniff at the bubbles still clinging to his chest. “I think it’s Dawn dish soap, actually.”

“You’d be correct,” a voice pipes up behind them, vaguely amused. Eddie bites back a groan - he was hoping to have more than thirty seconds alone with Buck, but he’s guessing that’s not the way Burning Up rolls. “We’re ready for you guys now, if you want to follow me.”

Eddie doesn’t recognize the woman that spoke from their interviews, but it’s easy enough to guess her role on the set all the same - a PA, judging by the radio strapped to her belt and the little cast lanyard declaring her as Lucy. She’s nice, in a vaguely prickly way, chatting idly with Buck as they make their way across the field. Eddie hangs back, trying his best not to pout. It’s fine. Buck’s making friends. He’s allowed to do that. Allowed to do more, really, because he isn’t actually dating Eddie, a fact that is becoming harder and harder to remember with every passing moment.

Eddie’s fine. He’s doing fine. He’s on an all-expenses paid trip with Buck, and everything is great.

Lucy leads them into the villa and down a narrow hallway to what’s obviously serving as an interview room, studio lights making the back of Eddie’s neck sweat preemptively. There’s a guy standing by a camera in the corner, looking every bit the studious worker, if not for the fact that Eddie can still hear the familiar sounds of Mario Party emanating from the Switch tossed haphazardly on the couch behind him.

“Oh, good,” he says, as Lucy manhandles them onto an uncomfortable couch. “These our next victims?”

Buck snorts. “You allowed to call us that?”

“Hey, whatever makes good TV.” The guy shrugs, leaning forward to shake their hands. “I’m Ravi. Lucy and I will be your dedicated crew for however long until you get eliminated. Which is to say - we get a bonus if you win, so please don’t go home first.”

Eddie blinks, once. “I’ll - uh. Keep that in mind?”

“Good,” Lucy says, grinning, so Eddie guesses he’s just passed whatever weird test that was. “Okay, let’s get started. How long have you two been together?”

“Four years,” Eddie says, prompt, just as Buck says-

“One.”

Which - shit. Eddie tries to recover.

“We’ve been dating for one year,” he says, grabbing Buck’s hand. His palm is so sweaty that he nearly misses entirely. “But we’ve - uh. Known each other for four. That’s what I meant.”

He isn’t honestly sure what he meant - the answer had been pure instinct, rolling off the top of his tongue without his consent. Buck shoots him a little sideways grin, obviously catching on to the panic radiating off of his every inch, and takes the lead.

“We work at the same station,” he explains, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Eddie’s palm. Eddie catches Ravi zooming in on it, and resists the urge to first-pump over getting a good grade in fake dating, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve. “The 118, in LA.”

“Mm.” Lucy barely looks up from where she’s now actively playing on Ravi’s Switch. “And you guys were friends from the start?”

Eddie snorts, loudly.

“Shut up,” Buck complains, digging his bony elbow into Eddie’s side. “I liked you just fine.”

“He felt threatened by me,” Eddie tells the camera conspiratorially.

“I didn’t feel threatened-”

“If you puffed your chest any more, you would have floated away.”

“I’m sorry, was I the one that started talking about ordinances when we were trying to get a live bomb out of a guy?”

“Wait,” Ravi says carefully, as if he’s not quite sure how to start unpacking all of that. Beside him, Lucy’s staring at them with a grin that Eddie’s not sure he likes the look of. “Back up. Live bomb?”

Buck shrugs, casual. “Live bomb. Tsunami. Earthquake. Sniper. You name it, we’ve probably had to deal with it.”

“Right,” Ravi says, faint. He looks like he has more to ask, but to Eddie’s immense relief, he just shakes his head and moves on, the visible signal for dealing with that is way above my pay grade. “Okay. Next question. We’re already halfway done, I promise.”

Eddie tries not to make his disgruntled sigh too audible. Based on Lucy’s smirk, he’s not successful.

They rush through the rest of the interview - some easy demographic stuff, followed by a few dumb takes of them trash-talking their future competition, who Eddie hasn’t even met yet but somehow has to make fun of anyways. Buck’s much better at it than he is, managing to keep a straight face even when Lucy instructs him to tell the camera that he’s “here to win, not to make friends,” but Eddie’s fairly certain that most of his half-assed takes will end up on the cutting room floor. He finds, somehow, that he doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“Okay,” Lucy says finally, kicking Ravi’s leg as she stands. He hipchecks her in response, nearly knocking the monitor straight off the stand. “Ow, shit, you’re bony. Buck, come with me.”

Buck blinks at her, deer in the headlights, and she sighs. “You two will be reunited in, like, twenty minutes for the first challenge. Do I need to give you a moment to passionately kiss goodbye?”

Eddie feels like his face is on fire. “Uh,” he coughs. “No. We’re good, thanks.”

“Totally good,” Buck assures them, leaning in to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “See you soon, baby.”

And it’s so stupid, so simple and run-of-the-mill and everything that they discussed last night in the hotel, but Eddie’s traitorous heart still flutters all the same as Buck shoots him a devasting grin and leaves, as if he hasn’t upended Eddie’s entire world with one simple pet name.

“Shit, I wasn’t filming that,” Ravi curses, snapping Eddie out of his Buck-induced reverie. “Can you guys do that again?”

Which - right. Reality TV. Not real life. Definitely.

Eddie pastes on his best fake grin, and moves back into position. 

-

Despite Lucy’s promises, it’s nearly an hour and a half before Eddie sees Buck again, during which time he manages to inhale a burger and a half from craft services, drop their duffle bags off in the camera-laden room they’ll be sharing (without audio, thankfully), and pointedly avoid meeting with some of his fellow competitors, all of whom look as lost as Eddie feels without their other halves.

He also spends, like, half a minute tops worrying about Buck and Lucy, before dismissing his concerns as ridiculous. He knows they aren’t really dating, but - still. He trusts Buck, above all else, not to jeopardize whatever ridiculous situation he’s got them both into.

Which, Eddie thinks, staring out at the line figures sitting in the villa’s backyard as the producers brief them, is extremely ridiculous.

Across the field, Buck gives Eddie a cheery little wave - or, the best approximation of it that he’s capable of doing, considering the fact that both his arms and legs are currently tied to a black folding chair. Eddie had figured there would be some sort of rope challenge - it was a staple at the academy, after all - but he was expecting more scaling the side of the building, less untying ropes from his completely fake boyfriend using nothing but his teeth. While blindfolded, apparently, if the black object Lucy’s bringing his way is any indication.

“You good?” She asks, sounding mildly concerned, as she slips a thick band of black fabric over his head and marches him over to where, presumably, Buck is waiting. It’s disorienting for a second, having one of his senses completely cut off from the world, but thankfully it’s only a second before Buck grabs his hand, the warm press of his palm against Eddie’s achingly familiar. 

Eddie lets out a squeaky-sounding noise of assent. “Never better.”

“Right.” Lucy sounds like she doesn’t believe him one bit. “Okay, first challenge, so we’ll spend a bit longer going over the rules. We don’t have a host-”

“You don’t?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re working with a pretty limited budget. Sex appeal is about all we’ve got.”

Eddie reaches up to scratch the blindfold with one hand, wincing at the itchy fabric. “Noted.”

“So, no host,” Lucy reiterates, sounding farther away. Eddie can’t tell if she’s moved, or if his body’s just tuning her out in favour of focusing on Buck, who is currently taking advantage of his semi-captivity to rub slow circles across Eddie’s knuckles. “We’ll have some weird AI thing that’ll explain this to the audience, so I’ll be filling you in most of the time. This one’s pretty simple. Two ropes, both of which you need to untie using nothing but your mouth. No hands, no verbal directions from Buck. You can kneel or sit in front of him to reach the ropes better, but you can’t go fully behind the chair. Got it?” 

“Maybe?”

“Perfect.” Lucy gives him a too-hard pat on the shoulder, right over where the stupid line of the suspenders is digging in on Eddie’s skin. “Holler if you need anything.”

“We will,” Buck says, firm. Eddie hears the sound of Lucy’s boots walking away on the grass before he continues, voice low: “Say the word and we quit.”

Eddie shakes his head stubbornly, the tie of the blindfold hitting him squarely on the cheek. 

“We knew what we were signing up for.”

“Yeah, some dumb challenges, not softcore porn.” Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand tight. “I mean it. If you want to walk away right now, we’ll do it.”

“I don’t want to walk away,” Eddie says, half-surprised when he realizes it’s the truth. It’s just - he trusts Buck, implicitly, with everything he has - with his life, with Chris. He has his limits, and Buck has his, and he knows neither of them will push beyond what the other is comfortable with, regardless of the cameras. “Do you?”

Buck lets out a breath. Eddie wishes he could see his face.

“I don’t,” he says finally, tone unreadable. “I want to do this. And it’s not just about winning the money.”

“Right, we have to make sure Ravi gets his bonus as well.”

Buck pinches his side, ignoring Eddie’s yelp.

“I want to do this with you,” he says firmly, and Eddie’s heart gives a traitorous flutter at that, irregardless of the fact that he knows, logically, that Buck means it in an entirely platonic way. “It’ll be okay. We got this.”

“We do,” Eddie says, half-uncertain, just as Taylor calls for them all to be quiet. He shifts on his feet, restless, as the producers give them a final safety briefing and get the cameras in place, and then a whistle blows from somewhere on set, and Eddie goes. 

He starts with the first of the two ropes, tied around Buck’s ankles, if only because he can’t stomach the thought of being so close to Buck’s middle just yet. The rope is gross in his mouth, tough and chemical-smelling, but it’s easy enough to find the end and pull it with his teeth, grinning in triumph as he feels it give way around Buck’s legs.

“Nice,” Buck says approvingly, as Eddie clambers off the ground to his knees, takes a minute to orient himself. “Come on, one more.”

Which - right. Eddie takes a deep breath and shifts until he can feel the warmth of Buck’s thighs on either side of him, the tough rope wrapped around his stomach, pinning his biceps to his sides. It’s looped entirely around the back of the chair, by his estimations, the fabric taut when he gives it an experimental tug with his teeth.

In the chair above him, Buck squirms. Eddie pulls back for a second, worried.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Buck assures him, voice high and reedy. “Just - I think one of the other teams is pulling ahead. That’s all.”

“Shit. Any way you could give me some advice?”

“Lucy said no verbal instructions, remember?” Buck reminds him, shifting again as Eddie accidentally brushes his cheek against his inner thigh. “Although-” he cuts himself off quickly. “Forget it.”

From the other end of the field, Eddie can hear a triumphant roar, first place slipping out of their grasp. He grabs the rope again in his mouth, frustrated when it doesn’t move. 

“If you have a solution, now’s the time.”

“I could maybe grab your hair?” Buck says, the words coming out in a rush. Eddie doesn’t respond for a second, and he continues, anxious, “I mean - just because it might help. You don’t have to. Only if you want.”

I want you, Eddie thinks, but doesn’t say. He’s grateful that Buck can’t see his eyes right now, see the sheer desire in them. 

He swallows once, clearing the tightness in the back of his throat. “Go for it.”

Another team calls for time down the field, and Buck curses, muttering something Eddie can’t hear before he gives in, fingers resting lightly on the top of Eddie’s scalp. Eddie huffs, amused despite himself. 

“I’m not going to break, you know.”

“I know,” Buck murmurs, and then he’s pulling Eddie’s hair harder, shifting them left until Eddie finally feels the end of the rope with his mouth. “You still good?”

Eddie’s too preoccupied with the sensation of Buck’s hands, the tiny pinpricks of pain erupting from every point of his scalp, to give much of an answer.

“Getting closer,” he manages to get out, speech clunky around the thick rope. He can feel Buck surrounding every inch of him, the thick press of his thighs against Eddie’s arms, the rise and fall of his stomach as Eddie tugs again, unravelling yet another piece. “One more minute.”

“Don’t think we have that,” Buck warns, and Eddie moves faster, blindly trusting Buck to guide him, to place his mouth in the exact right places. He’s beginning to think whoever tied this rope had a personal vendetta against him.

(Or, as Lucy helpfully pointed out earlier, thought that two hot firefighters in close proximity would be good for ratings.)

In any case, Eddie hates them all the same, especially when he hears the team next to them beginning to celebrate, putting them solidly in the bottom three groups. He’s frantic now, throat working as he bites down on the rope as hard as he can, falling back in relief as the rope finally, finally goes slack.

“Holy fuck,” he manages to get out, face pressed against the dirt. It’s a small consolation that Buck sounds similarly winded above him, even though he didn’t do anything more than yank Eddie around by the hair. “Okay. Welcome to reality TV, I guess.”

Buck’s got a funny look on his face when Eddie pushes the blindfold off, one that he can’t quite decipher.

“Yeah,” he echoes, wiggling out of the ropes for good. “What a welcome.”

-

“God,” Buck moans, falling dramatically onto their bed that night, hair wild and curly against the white sheets. “I could sleep for a week.”

Eddie snorts, easing under the covers beside him. It shouldn’t be awkward, considering that they literally did the same thing last night, stubbornly sticking to their separate sides all the while, but it feels different now, armed with the knowledge that there’s a blinking light watching them in the corner of the room, silently recording their every move.

They don’t have any cameras in the washroom, which Eddie is desperately relieved about. He needs some modicum of privacy, especially after the constant presence of cameras all day, through the afternoon’s physical challenge (a strength relay with sandbags, easy as anything) and a weird elimination ceremony that mainly consisted of them trying not to burst out laughing as a crew member solemnly extinguished a torch metaphorically representing the team from New Hampshire. Taylor had glared at them the entire time and then made them do more interviews with Ravi and Lucy afterwards, which felt mildly unfair, but Eddie’s not about to complain. Yet. 

“We have to be up at five again tomorrow,” he reminds Buck now, pressing his cold feet against Buck’s leg just because he knows it’ll make him yelp. He gets a kick to the shin in response. “I know, it sucks. Blame the person that signed us up for reality TV in the first place.”

“He sounds like a real asshole.”

“Oh, totally,” Eddie deadpans, just to see the indignant look on Buck’s face. “Complete loser. Talked my ear off at dinner about how they used the wrong type of utility rope.”

“They did!” Buck protests, but he’s laughing, the kind of strung-out, exhausted laugh he gets near the end of a long shift. His shoulder nearly bumps Eddie’s where they’re sitting side-by-side on the bed, and Eddie’s struck by the urge to pull him closer, to never let him go. “I’m just saying. Nylon would have been easier to deal with. It’s got more stretch. I probably wouldn’t have had to,” he pauses, bites his bottom lip. “You know.”

“Pull me around by the hair so that we didn’t end up in last place?” Eddie says dryly. Buck’s eyes look impossibly dark, but Eddie’s fairly certain that’s just his imagination. “It’s fine. Seriously.”

Buck’s still worrying his lip between his teeth, looking unconvinced, so Eddie gives up and shifts closer, leaning in to murmur directly into the shell of Buck’s ear.

“You don’t need to keep checking in on me,” he says, face angled so that the cameras can’t read his lips. “I’m all in on this fake dating thing. Promise.”

Next to him, Buck lets out a little sigh. 

“It has been kind of fun,” he admits, reaching around Eddie to wrap an arm around his shoulders. Eddie rests his head against the crook of Buck’s neck, stubbornly ignoring the way they fit perfectly together. They’re just putting on a show for the cameras, that’s all. “And hey, one team’s gone now. We just have to beat six more.”

“Unless we get humiliated and sent home tomorrow.”

“They won’t send us home,” Buck says, just on the right side of cocky, but Eddie knows they’ll be using that as a soundbite for the episode anyways. “You’re too pretty to get eliminated.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how this works, bud.”

“Says who?” Buck grins at him, the stupid grin that Eddie knows he’s riling him up just for the sake of it. “I mean, Lucy said it. I don’t think Burning Up recruited us for our firefighting prowess.”

“Oh, for sure,” Eddie says, reaching down to poke Buck’s chest. Buck flushes, and he continues, emboldened, “I think you made, like, three other teams faint today.”

“Yeah?” Buck tangles their hands together, letting them rest loosely on his stomach. “Maybe that should be my strategy. Just flex at them all until we’re the last ones standing. Unless,” he adds, contemplative, “that would fuck up your game, too.”

It’s suddenly very hard for Eddie to breathe.

“You know me,” he says, aiming for casual. “I’m immune to your charms.”

“Clearly,” Buck says, voice so low that Eddie almost doesn’t catch it. Then, louder: “Did you end up getting to talk to Chris?”

Eddie wants to push, wants to return to their previous conversation, but something about the look on Buck’s face tells him that it’s probably not a good idea.

“Yeah,” he says finally, running his thumb up and down the back of Buck’s hand, a steady line. “Loves camp. Says to tell you hello. He didn’t even stay for the full half hour before hanging up.”

It had been one of the unbreakable conditions of Eddie coming here - that he would be able to contact Chris, no matter what. And while he’d prefer to have his own phone rather than hang out in a supervised room with some of the PAs, he’s grateful for it regardless, and he knows Buck is too, judging by the fuss he put up the last time Chris went away to camp.

“He’s starting up some secret slime society,” he continues, eyes nearly falling shut. Buck’s chest is a comfortable weight below him, steady and warm. “Trading it as contraband.”

Buck hums, amused. “Should we expect a call from the camp director soon?”

“Probably, knowing-” Eddie cuts himself off before he can say our son, but he thinks Buck hears it anyways, if the wide-eyed look he gives Eddie is any indication. His body is tense as a board, the softness from seconds before gone in an instant. “Knowing Chris,” he finishes, throat sticky. “I’ve told me to pull me off set if they get it.”

“That’s probably smart.” Buck shifts, dislodging Eddie entirely. He tries not to mourn the loss too badly. “He’s your son, through and through.”

Ours, Eddie wants to scream. He’s ours, and has been for years.

“Yeah,” is what he says instead, feeling the miles stretch out between him and Buck, even though their legs are still nearly touching on the mattress. “He is.”

He doesn’t fall asleep for hours that night. It feels like penance, somehow. 

-

It goes without saying that Eddie’s a mess the next morning, grumpy and irritable and surrounded by at least three mugs of coffee by the time Taylor corners him in the kitchen, already looking like someone pissed in her Cornflakes. 

“You need to make more friends,” she says, skipping over pleasantries entirely. Eddie respects it, somehow. 

“Excuse me?”

“Friends,” she repeats, with the air of a woman who isn’t used to having to do that often. “It’s day two. Make them.”

Across the room, Eddie spies Buck returning from the breakfast bar, plate piled high with waffles. He shoots him a panicked look and gets nothing but a smirk in response.

“I thought this was a couples challenge?” Eddie says, deliberately obtuse. It’s worth it, just to see the way Taylor’s eyes narrow.

“It is,” she says, teeth gritted. “But we’re also focused on - different bonds.”

“Needless drama, you mean?”

Taylor grinds her teeth so hard that Eddie’s half-worried one will break. “You signed the contract. Just do it, Diaz. I mean it.”

She turns on her heel and strides out, leaving nothing behind but the scent of floral perfume and bad vibes. Buck scuttles over the second she turns the corner, the traitor. 

“What was that all about?”

Eddie groans, slumping onto Buck’s shoulder. From across the room, he can catch Ravi zooming in on them, poorly hidden behind a potted plant. 

“Apparently, I need to be more social.”

“Poor baby,” Buck soothes, patting his cheek. Eddie has to forcibly remind himself that Buck doesn’t mean it, not like that, but his heart doesn’t seem to want to listen. “The other teams aren’t so bad, I promise.”

Eddie snorts. “How do you know?”

“Because I don’t have to be bullied into talking to other people,” Buck says, poking Eddie’s side. “I hung out in the living room with some of them yesterday when Lucy stole you away for more interviews. They were nice.”

“Ringing endorsement.”

“Alright, they were tolerable,” Buck concedes, shoving a whole waffle in his mouth and standing up, his next words garbled. “Come on, I think they’re all outside.”

“What, we’re going right now?”

“If we don’t, you’ll just hide away until the first challenge and pretend you forgot.” Buck levels Eddie with a look, and he tries his best to pretend like that wasn't his exact plan. “I’m leaving my breakfast for this. Look a little more enthusiastic.”

“I didn’t tell you to come with me,” Eddie grumbles, but he relents, following Buck out to the backyard where a handful of other competitors are lounging, mic packs strapped to the backs of their bathing suits. “You can stay inside.”

Buck shoots him a cheeky grin. “Come on. You know I’m a better partner than that.”

Eddie does know, as a matter of fact. It’s torture, in a way, having Buck be his for the past twenty-four hours, every murmured pet name or casual arm around the shoulder making Eddie’s entire body sing. They’d woken up wrapped around each other this morning, and for a blissful moment, before Buck rolled away, Eddie let himself just - imagine, what it would be like if he got this for real. If Buck was truly his to keep.

All of the teams had been introduced to each other last night at the first elimination ceremony, but Eddie can’t quite remember who’s who when they sit down, Mark and Kathy from D.C. blending into Samira and Riley from Oregon and Vivian and Shawn from Illinois. Thankfully, for all of his earlier complaining, Buck seems more than happy to take the lead, talking to the others as Eddie rests his head on his shoulder, closes his eyes. He can practically feel the glare Taylor is shooting his way, but it’s whatever. She told him to make friends, not necessarily to speak to people.

“Wait,” says one of the women, addressing Eddie directly, right when he’s debating sneaking off before the morning challenge begins. “That was you?”

“Um.” Eddie clearly missed some key information. He glances over at Buck, but he’s just smiling, utterly unhelpful. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

“The well collapse,” the woman’s partner supplies, eyes wide. “It made our local news. I can’t imagine how awful that must have been.”

Behind the line of cameras, Eddie can practically see the producers perk up, moving closer like a swarm of vultures. He grits his teeth, grabs Buck’s hand and plays along.

“It was tough,” he says finally, an understatement. “But I got really lucky, honestly. It wasn’t too bad, if you don’t count the-”

“Almost dying bit?” Buck says, shooting a wry look at the women - Eddie thinks they’re the Oregon couple, but he can’t quite be sure. They both smile back, a little starstruck, and Eddie feels a little prickle of jealousy in his chest, even though he knows he shouldn’t. 

“That,” Eddie concedes, moving closer to Buck, the warmth he’s giving off. If it has the added benefit of giving off strong back off vibes - well. That’s just a coincidence.

(It’s all for the cameras, really.)

“A supportive partner really makes all the difference,” the first girl says, the beads on the end of her braids clicking together as she nods. “I don’t know what I would have done if Samira got hurt.”

“Oh,” Buck says, hasty. “We, uh. We weren’t together then, actually.”

The other woman - Samira, Eddie presumes - drops her jaw wide open. “You weren’t? But - I saw the video-”

Eddie shrugs, ignoring the heat he can feel prickling the back of his neck. “We were just friends. Strictly platonic.”

We still are platonic, he doesn’t say.

“Well,” Samira says finally, awkward. “I’m glad you guys figured it out. It was obvious that there was something there, even then.”

And doesn’t that hit Eddie like a ton of bricks, right below the sternum - the fact that what they’re doing is genuinely believable to others, that Buck’s desperate cry in the mud (and God, hadn’t that been tough for Eddie to watch) can be so easily misconstrued to fit into this fake narrative that they’re creating. That Eddie’s not the only one turning their platonic actions into something more. 

Beside him, Buck looks similarly uncomfortable. Eddie prays to every God out there that he hasn’t finally figured it out, uncovered how hopelessly in love Eddie truly is with him.

“We got there eventually,” he says, smile brittle, just as the producers finally descend to shuttle them off to hair and makeup. 

Eddie really, really wishes that were true.

-

Eddie might not be fantastic at socializing, but he’s still a damn good firefighter, him and Buck kicking everyone else’s ass in that morning’s challenge, a series of ladder drills that they’ve gone through so many times on the job that he barely even breaks a sweat. He’s honestly pretty thrilled about it, actually - they’d been solidly middle of the pack yesterday, and he’s been itching to do better (“it’s that top of the academy mindset,” Buck had said, fond), but one look at the collected group of teams after lunch has him second-guessing that all together.

Because now - now they’re a target. Even the group that they talked to earlier by the pool are eyeing them suspiciously, as if they’re suddenly public enemy number one.

Well. All’s fair in love and reality TV, or however the saying goes.

“I want to win this one too,” he murmurs to Buck, as Lucy takes them over to the field they did the challenges in the day before, cameras already filming a pile of harnesses set in the center, a thick, braided rope attached to each one. “Just for fun.”

Buck snorts. “Definitely not because you’re a sore loser.”

He looks beautiful, standing in the afternoon sun in those ridiculous suspenders again, tanned and shirtless and everything Eddie could ever dream of. It takes all of his effort to focus on the safety briefing happening in front of him instead of on the curve of Buck’s arms, the tattoos winding around them.

“Definitely not,” Eddie agrees, mouth dry. 

This afternoon’s challenge, Lucy explains, is a game of human tug-of-war, which not only sounds incredibly unsafe but also means that they have to deal head-on with another team, which is pretty much the stuff of Eddie’s nightmares. He’s beginning to understand why Taylor was so set on him making friends earlier, if the glint in her eye as she pits them against Samira and her partner - Riley, he thinks - is any indication.

“Sorry,” she apologizes, sounding not sorry at all as she straps herself into her harness, every move jostling the rope attaching her to Eddie. “But we’re going to kick your asses.”

Eddie shrugs, lifting his arms to let one of the safety guys make sure the harness is secure. “You can try your best, I guess.”

It’s a weird contraption, all in all, two harnesses attached together with a bungee cord, a long rope connecting each of them to their respective partners, both of whom are firmly placed outside of a large circle drawn in the dirt. Somehow, Eddie needs to run far enough to not only get himself out of the circle, but also keep Samira, back currently pressed to his, from yanking him in the other direction, aided by the support of Riley holding the rope - the aforementioned tug-of-war piece, unfortunately. 

“Just don’t die,” Lucy tells him, right before the cameras start rolling. “Ravi will never be able to pay off his student loans without that bonus.”

There’s an indignant squawk behind the line of cameras, but Eddie barely spares it a second thought, too busy focusing on Taylor counting down, and then, after what feels like the longest wait known to humankind, blowing the whistle for the challenge to begin.

Eddie’s yanked backwards before he can even move, the bungee cord snapping against his spine as Samira lunges towards the edge of the circle. In front of him, Buck adjusts his legs, tugs the rope in his direction, muscles straining as he does. Eddie shoots him a grateful grin as he recovers, recentering himself in the middle of the ring and taking a second to breathe before he runs again.

It’s hard to get a grip, the sand making his shoes slide, but he manages to claw another three paces before Samira and Riley pull him back, dragging him nearly to the exact spot where he started. Eddie’s sweating in earnest now, the black harness digging painfully into his hips, his back, his everything.

“You got this, babe,” Buck promises, gritting his teeth as he tries his best to keep from sliding into the circle. His biceps flex, nearly losing control of the rope he’s holding with all his might. “Just run. Ten seconds, and it’ll all be over.”

Eddie runs. Fails miserably. He goes down hard on one knee, and the other, and for a second he thinks it’s over before Samira falters, giving him the opportunity to scramble into some poor approximation of a downward dog. 

(Chimney’s been on a yoga kick at the station, sue him.)

His legs windmill beneath him for a second before he finally digs in, hands clawing in the sand as he takes a step, and then another, the bungee cord stretching together as his hand closes around Buck’s, dragging them both out of the circle and into safety. 

Somewhere behind him, the whistle blows.

Eddie collapses to the ground in relief, dragging Buck down with him, a tangle of limbs and rope. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he wheezes, burying his face in Buck’s chest. “That was ridiculous.”

He feels a hand come up around his shoulders, fingers carding through his sweaty hair.

“You were amazing,” Buck says, voice low. Eddie knows that it doesn’t really count, given their ever-present mic packs, but he holds the moment close anyways, pretends it’s just the two of them. “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

He looks at Eddie, a silent question in his eyes. Eddie lets out the smallest of nods, careful, and then Buck’s cradling his face, leaning in to kiss him, in front of the other teams and the cameras and eventually most of middle America.

It’s less perfunctory than the last time, deeper, Buck’s hand still tangled in Eddie’s hair. Eddie’s about to take off his mic pack and run away, consequences be damned, when there’s a huff behind him, impatient but amused.

“Come on, dumbasses,” Lucy says, reaching out a hand to help Buck up. “You won your match. It’s interview time.”

To Eddie’s chagrin, they don’t even let them change, just shuttle them back to the villa and fire a thousand questions their way, Ravi quipping at them behind the camera as he not-so-subtly zooms in on their legs, tangled together on the sofa.

“How do you think you’re doing overall?” Lucy asks, when they’re finished recapping the challenge. “Like, in terms of the other teams.”

Eddie glances at Buck, who shrugs.

“I’d say pretty well,” Eddie says, careful. “I mean, we won the morning, and we at least made top three this afternoon, depending on everyone else’s times. But I don’t know if that’s a good thing.”

He thinks of the other teams, their pursed lips after the morning challenge, the way Samira and Riley had looked at them following the tug of war, defeated and mildly annoyed. And, like - Eddie’s not here to make friends, necessarily, but he also doesn’t want to make enemies.

“We’re a strong team,” Buck adds. “But we have our weaknesses, like all teams do. So we’ll see.”

Ravi snorts. “Can you try and give us an answer that’s a little bit less canned?”

“What, Burning Up is trying to be unique now?”

“More like you’ve said the same thing in your last three interviews,” Ravi says, sticking his tongue out, and Eddie feels it again, that same jealous feeling he had this morning. Which makes no sense, because Ravi’s, like, a decade younger than both of them and also won’t shut up about his boyfriend, but still. Eddie’s mind doesn’t seem to want to listen to logic.

“Fine.” Buck heaves a put-upon sigh. “I think Eddie’s kicking ass. I think he’s definitely taking on a lot of harder parts of the challenges, and I’m really proud of how he’s doing, especially considering I was the one that made him sign up in the first place. I’m constantly in awe of him, and I love-” he cuts himself off, stares owlishly at the camera- “I love, uh, seeing him succeed.”

“Buck,” Eddie starts, but he just barrels on before Eddie can figure out how, exactly, to respond to that. 

“And he’s, genuinely, the most amazing dad, even here - he’s constantly ensuring Chris is doing okay, even though he’s safe at camp this whole time. Also, he’s fucking smart - graduated top of the academy, and he’s just blowing the other teams out of the water without even thinking. So, yeah.” He grins at Ravi and Lucy behind the camera, who are staring at each other as if they can’t decide if they find his little speech adorable or disgusting. “Was that better?”

“Much better,” Lucy says definitively, shutting her folder with a snap, “I think we’ve got everything we need.”

-

It’s three in the morning, and Eddie can’t sleep.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to - he’s worn out, both from the day’s challenges and another horrible round of socializing at dinner - but he can’t help but play Buck’s speech on repeat in his head, the little pause in his voice before he told Eddie he loves seeing him succeed. There had been a moment, a split second, where Eddie thought he was going to say it, deepen the lie even further, and he hates how much he wanted it to happen, even if it would be just for the cameras. Even if it would be just for show.

On the other side of the bed, Buck shifts, one arm coming around to tug Eddie into his side. 

“Can hear you thinking from over there,” he says, voice groggy. “Go back to sleep.”

“But-”

“Nope.” Buck plants a kiss on the back of his neck, too angled for the cameras to see. Eddie will have to remind him to make sure it’s visible next time. “Shh. Less talking, more sleeping.”

Eddie is helpless to do anything to listen.

The next time he opens his eyes, it’s morning, the sound of the shower running in the background. Some PA has slid their itinerary for the day under the door, and he takes a moment to grab it while Buck finishes getting ready, eyeing the cheery banner announcing this as Day 3/6. 

And. Eddie knew this would be fast. Faster than six days, even, depending on when they got eliminated. But he’s starting to already feel like he’s running out of time, running out of days before they return home and go back to being - whatever they were before. Whatever Eddie doesn’t want them to go back to.

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by Buck opening the bathroom door, steam billowing out behind him as he steps out in a towel.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” he says, smiling. Eddie tries very, very hard not to focus on the singular bead of water making its way down the line of his abs. “Ready for today?”

Eddie takes a moment to categorize his body, take into account the residual soreness lurking in his legs from yesterday afternoon. 

“Pretty good,” he says, and then relents at Buck’s skeptical eye. “Legs are a little sore. Same with my back.”

“Mm.” Buck stretches up, and the towel slips tantalizingly lower. “Well. Let me know if you need me to give you a massage or something. I’ve been told I have magic hands.”

And isn’t that something Eddie doesn’t need to know, when he’s already half-hard in his pyjama pants and Buck’s standing there looking practically lickable.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he chokes out, pushing past Buck to go brush his teeth. “Come on, we’re going to be late for breakfast.”

He’s not wrong - they end up just making it down for the tail end, Buck shoving some more waffles and a handful of grapes into his mouth before they get shuttled along to the morning’s challenge, once again taking place in the very same field. Eddie’s beginning to realize that Lucy was telling the truth about the Burning Up set not exactly being flush with cash.

“We’re starting it off simple this morning,” Taylor says, managing to look impeccably put together and awake despite the early hour. “One of your team members gets to relax, while the other does most of the work. Figure it out yourselves.”

“You get to relax,” Buck says, almost immediately, turning to Eddie with a look in his eyes that means he shouldn’t even try to argue. Eddie does anyway, but Buck presses a hand over his mouth before he can form words. “I mean it. You’ve been doing most of the heavy lifting.”

Eddie licks Buck’s hand, just to be annoying, but doesn’t protest. The thought of getting to lay back is, admittedly, too good to pass up.

“The name of the game is dead weight,” Lucy explains, once they’ve been sorted into six lines, each team separated by a series of narrow lane markers. “Eddie, you’ll be lying down on this plastic board. Buck, you have to do whatever you can - dragging the board behind you, pushing it along, anything - to get through everything on the field and to the finish line.” She gestures to the collection of plastic-looking rocks and trees blocking their path, some clearly meant to be weaved around, others for crawling under. “Any questions?”

Eddie shakes his head no, and she smiles, moving on to the next team without another word. He looks over at Buck, who appears incredibly at ease.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he says, leaning in to plant a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “We might be able to get some pool time before lunch.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose - pool time means more socializing, but he can’t admit that the prospect doesn’t seem nice, especially on a humid day like today, the sky cloudless up above. 

“Maybe,” he says, leaning back on the plastic board as Taylor calls for them all to take their positions. “Ask me again after.”

It’s a pretty easy obstacle course to start, Buck bending over to push Eddie the first bit of the way, around a styrofoam rock and through a collection of fake bushes. The raised tree branches are a little harder, Buck wiggling through on his hands and knees and then pulling Eddie through behind him, but they seem to be making good time from what Eddie can see, two teams just barely matching their pace.

Buck stops for a second at one of the final branches, so low to the ground that Eddie frowns.

“I’m going to hop over,” he decides, pushing his sweaty hair back. “And then I’ll reach under the branch and pull you through like that.”

Eddie gives a thumbs-up in response, settling in on his stomach and stretching out his hand in wait. He can’t see much from this angle, just the sandy dirt and the shadow of Buck’s boots, moving over the branch and into position, where he just - stops.

Eddie frowns, wiggling his fingers expectantly. “You good?”

“Totally.” There’s something off about Buck’s voice, but Eddie can’t place it without seeing his face. “Just - give me a minute.”

“Is something wrong?” Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see the team next to them move through the branch, fast as anything. Their lead is evaporating as quickly as it came. “Do you need water or something?”

“No water,” Buck says, and his voice is faster now, anxious. Eddie pushes himself up on his elbows, suddenly worried. “I - just. Sorry. Shit. I need a minute.”

“Buck-” Eddie starts, jumping to his feet, but Buck’s gone before he can catch him, taking off towards the villa. He glances around, panicked, and makes eye contact with Ravi. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Ravi says, worried, as Eddie rips his mic pack off from around his neck and throws it on the ground, consequences be damned. “He was fine, and then he wasn’t. Heatstroke, maybe?”

Behind him, Eddie can see Taylor coming his way, another couple producers close behind. 

“Keep them out of our room,” he instructs Ravi, firm, before he races across the field after Buck, the stupid fucking suspenders of his costume slapping against his chest as he goes. There’s bile rising in the back of his throat, thick and uncomfortable, a steady burn in his legs, but - none of it matters. Not when Buck sounded like that, like he was irreparably broken, like he was witnessing the worst thing of his life right in front of him, Eddie stretched out on the ground in a Nevada field.

Just as he suspected, Buck’s in their bathroom, the only place without cameras, curled up sideways on the floor with a towel pillowed under his head. He’s not actively crying, but Eddie can see the remnants of tear tracks on his face, cutting through the makeup and dirt, and it makes something inside him ache.

“Hey,” he says, soft. Soothing. “It’s just me. No one’s going to bother us, I promise.”

Buck doesn’t look up, but he doesn’t tell Eddie to get out, either, so he takes that as a good sign. “The challenge-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, firm. Buck’s mic pack is off, dropped roughly on the floor in front of him, and he takes a second to bring it out into the hall, to ensure both the bedroom and bathroom doors are locked before returning. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Buck nods, face muffled into the towel. “Give me a minute.”

Eddie does. He fills up a cup with water from the sink. He wipes the dirt off his face. He sits down on the floor beside Buck, not too close, but just a steady presence. Just - there.

When Buck speaks again, his voice is rough. Wrecked.

“What do you remember about the day you got shot?”

More than anything else, that’s what tips Eddie off to the fact that something is very, very wrong, that Buck isn’t just dealing with heat stroke or the flu or something - simple. Because they don’t talk about the shooting, haven’t talked about it since Eddie sat in a hospital room with Buck and told him that he put him in his will. Eddie knows he should have, is the thing - Frank’s patiently hinted at it often enough - but between his own incredible amount of trauma and his subsequent coming out, it had just felt easier to not.

Until now, half-dressed in sexy firefighter costumes and sitting side by side on a cold tile floor. 

“I don’t remember much,” he says, careful. “I mean - a little bit from the hospital, before surgery. You, uh, talking to me in the ambulance. Most of it’s just a blur.”

“I remember everything,” Buck says, voice hoarse. When he looks at Eddie, there’s fresh tears in his eyes. “And that’s not - I’m not trying to blame you, or anything. I’ve been working on it, in therapy and stuff. But I - uh. I pulled you under the truck by your arm, when the sniper was still firing.”

It’s easy enough for Eddie to fill in the gaps from there. “So today, on the field-”

“Was the exact same, yeah.” Buck pulls his knees up to his chin, looking simultaneously thirty years older and the youngest Eddie’s ever seen him. “And I just - I saw your hand, and I saw you lying on the ground, and it was like it was happening again, right in front of me.”

“It wasn’t,” Eddie says, reaching out a hand towards Buck. He takes it, clings to it like a lifeline. “I promise. I’m okay. We’re both okay.”

“Are we?” Buck says, letting out a little watery hiccup. “Because we haven’t talked about it, since it happened. Since you told me I was in your will.” He looks up at Eddie, eyes bloodshot. “Why did you put me in your will?”

Eddie really should have had this conversation sooner.

“Last night,” he starts, choosing his words carefully, “when I called Chris on the phone, I spoke to his counselor first. And she told me Chris had been talking nonstop about his dad - and his Buck.” He squeezes Buck’s hand tighter. “I put you in my will because you’re everything to him. Everything to me.”

“Eddie-”

“You’re not a backup plan,” Eddie says, because that’s what it is, what he can see written on every ounce of Buck’s being, the knowledge that Buck sees himself as a fallback for the next time Eddie fucks up too bad. Parenting with conditions. “You’re our - my - right now. You’re a forever thing to me. And I should have sat down and told you all this before, but I couldn’t figure out how.”

Buck cracks a smile at that, glancing around the bathroom, fluorescent lights and a mess of towels on the floor. “No time like the present, I guess.”

And Eddie’s so tempted - so incredibly tempted - to lay himself completely bare, to tear back the last bit of his heart he’s been hiding and let his love shine through. But it’s not the time, nor the place for that conversation, so instead, he just leans into Buck’s side and lets them breathe in tandem.

“You’re our family,” he says finally. “And when we get home, if you want to talk about it more - if you want to go see someone and talk about it together, I’d be perfectly fine with that.”

“You and Chris are my family, too,” Buck says, and on his lips, it nearly sounds like a vow. He relaxes a bit, his head lolling onto Eddie’s shoulder. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

“More than,” Eddie says - promises, really. He knows they’ll have to talk more about this, when they’re not surrounded by cameras and producers, but he still feels - good. Lighter. Like there’s been a weight around his neck that’s suddenly been removed. And, judging by the relaxed slump of Buck’s shoulders, the half-smile playing on his mouth, he’s not alone. 

Maybe Frank was right about him needing to talk to Buck about this. 

There’s a noise from the hallway, the sound of voices, and Eddie winces.

“We probably don’t have long before someone knocks down our door,” he says, apologetic. “I told Ravi to hold them off, but between you and me, I have doubts about his strength.”

“He’s scrappy,” Buck shrugs, leaning closer to Eddie. Sometime this week, he’s switched his shampoo from coconut to strawberry, and Eddie tries to not fall a little more in love as he breathes it in. “But you’re right, they’ll be relentless. Especially when they find out the truth.”

And - look. Eddie’s been good this week, but there’s no denying that in general, he’s a bit of a shit disturber, especially in environments like this. He taps his thumb on the back of Buck’s hand, thinking. 

“What if we didn’t have to?” 

-

“Food poisoning,” Buck says, solemn. Beside him, Eddie clutches his hand, looking at him like a starry-eyed lover. “Very vigorous. Never-ending. The colors alone-”

“Alright,” Taylor says, pinching the top of her nose. She looks like she wants nothing more than to dropkick them both out of not only the Burning Up set, but also the entire state of Nevada. “I get it. You don’t have to go any further.”

“The pain was the worst part,” Buck continues as if he hadn’t heard her. “Hunched over on the porcelain throne, my kingdom for hours on end-”

“You were only gone forty-five minutes.”

“Semantics.” Buck waves his hand. Taylor looks at Eddie like he has any control over this situation, and he just shoots her his best innocent smile. “Anyways, like I was saying. That’s why we left the challenge early.”

“Very tragic,” Eddie says, nodding along. “Very out of our control.”

Behind the camera, Ravi looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, you two deserve each other,” Taylor mutters, exasperated. “Fine. We’ll say you guys had a medical emergency for the morning and let you keep competing. Happy?”

Eddie grins at her, all teeth. “Ecstatic.”

He’s even happier when they make it through the afternoon’s challenge near the top of the pack, despite the attempts of no less than three other teams to steal the pieces of their puzzle, a complicated set of ropes and nozzles that they had to - somehow - assemble into the right order. They don’t win, but they don’t come in last, either, which is all Eddie can ask for, especially considering that everyone else seems less than happy with the fact that they’d been able to rejoin the competition with little to no fanfare.

“Do you get the feeling that someone’s going to try and set our room on fire tonight, or is that just me?” Buck murmurs as they’re getting ready for bed that night, having scraped through the elimination ceremony by the skin of their teeth. Eddie’s not quite sure how it happened, honestly - he had been more than prepared to pack his bags - but he’s not complaining.

Especially if that means he gets to lie again with Buck in bed, Buck’s head on Eddie’s chest as if that’s where he belongs. He runs his fingers idly through Buck’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Lucky for you, I might know a couple people capable of dealing with that.”

“Dumbass,” Buck says, but there’s no heat behind it. He shifts, just enough to make eye contact with Eddie, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “I really thought we were going home.”

“It would have been okay if we did,” Eddie says, careful. For all of Buck’s earlier dramatics to Taylor, Eddie knows that Buck’s still a little wobbly from the morning, which is why he lets himself pull Buck even closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I wouldn’t have blamed you, you know that.”

“I know,” Buck says, fond. “But - I can’t explain it.” He lets out a gusting sigh, squirms a little. “Is it bad to say that I kind of want to win now? I mean, I know we wanted to win all along, but I just - really want it.”

Eddie hums. “Because all the other teams hate us?”

“Only ninety percent of them do,” Buck corrects, like it’s a distinction that matters. “It just feels more real, now that there’s only five teams left.”

“As opposed to eight, which is so much bigger.”

“You’re a menace,” Buck says, but he’s laughing, shaking against Eddie’s chest with every move. “I don’t know why I’m dating you.”

And it’s a joke, it’s all a joke - for the camera still trained on them above, for the crew downstairs - but Eddie finds himself almost believing it anyways.

“You know me,” he says, throat dry. “Best boyfriend ever.”

“Damn right, you are.” Buck leans up to plant a smacking kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw. “Come on, I’m exhausted. Go to sleep.”

After the day they’ve had, Eddie’s pretty much expecting to be tossing and turning again all night, but something about the warmth of Buck’s body against his, the hot puffs of his breath against Eddie’s neck, make him sleep more soundly than he has in - well, years, if he’s being honest with himself. It’s getting harder and harder to remember this is all pretend, especially when Buck’s still clinging to him like an octopus the next morning, holding Eddie hostage as the alarm clock on the nightstand blares.

It’s especially hard to pretend when Buck wakes up with a groggy “mm, morning,” kissing Eddie square on the mouth before rolling out of bed.

Eddie lets himself lie there for thirty more seconds, touching the faint trace Buck left on his lips like some of some lovesick maiden, before he forces himself upright, rubbing his eyes as he makes his way to the bathroom.

“I was thinking I’d talk to Chris before we go for breakfast,” he says around a mouthful of toothpaste, Buck shaving the remnants of his stubble at the sink beside him. It’s stupidly domestic, and makes Eddie’s heart feel stupidly fond. “He had some campfire thing last night, so we rescheduled the call. Did you want to come with?”

He leans down to rinse his mouth so he doesn’t have to see Buck’s face, fully aware that it’s a cowardly move as he goes. It’s just - they’re better, after yesterday, the tentative minefield they’d been dancing around for the better part of a year more than gone. Eddie’s already feeling it, the last bit of the chasm that had spread between him and Buck fading away, the fissure finally closing. But he wants to make sure that Buck knows that he meant it, that he truly is a part of their family - and a morning call with Chris seems like a good place to start.

Sure enough, when he looks up, Buck’s grinning, sweet and bashful.

“Of course,” he says, soft, and then promptly wrecks the moment by leaving the bathroom without cleaning up his hair from the counter, even though he knows Eddie hates it.

And - yeah. Eddie thinks they’re good.

He’s especially sure they’re good by the time they make it out to the crew trailers, where Eddie’s been conducting his supervised (always supervised, as if they’re worried he’s going to tweet out all of Burning Up’s dirty secrets) phone calls each night. Chris had spoken to him for all of thirty seconds before demanding the phone be handed to Buck, who is currently listening to some long-winded story involving - frogs, maybe? Eddie tries his best to follow, but no one quite gets Chris’s brain like Buck does, able to constantly break down his quantum leaps into measurable steps.

Case in point -

“I don’t think the backyard at home is big enough for a turtle enclosure, buddy,” Buck says, laughing. Eddie doesn’t even know when turtles entered this conversation. “Yeah, even if we removed the shed. How about we go to the zoo once you’re back and you can talk to the zookeepers for a bit? We can figure out why it’s too small together.”

Sorry, he mouths over to Eddie from across the room, as if this isn’t the stuff of Eddie’s dreams, the moments he’s held tight to his heart ever since he first introduced the two of them years ago.

“No, the turtles at camp are probably happy where they are. Yes, seriously,” Buck says, and Eddie can just make out Chris’s giggle at the other end of the line, high and delightful. “I mean it, Chris. If I come to pick you up and there’s a turtle in your bag-”

“Wow,” Lucy says, directly behind him. Eddie jumps nearly a mile into the air, schooling his face into something less transparent. “He’s really good with him.”

Buck and Chris are now comparing loon calls through the phone, Buck’s grin wide and unrestrained. Eddie loves him in every form, but especially like this, happy and loose and laughing. 

“He is,” he says finally, refusing to tear his eyes away. “Chris loves him.”

“And so do you.”

There’s something in the way Lucy says it that has Eddie’s body suddenly on edge. 

“I would hope so,” he says, forcing out a laugh, “seeing as we’re dating and all.”

“Mm.” Lucy leans back in her chair, blows a piece of bubblegum. “Except you’re not.” Eddie’s eyes go wide, panicked, and she quickly adds- “I’m not going to spill, don’t worry. You guys are doing really well, yesterday aside.”

There’s no use denying it, no cameras in the crew trailers, so Eddie shrugs once, twists his fingers together in his lap.

“How did you figure it out?”

“I mean, you’re an awful liar,” Lucy says, grinning. Eddie knew he shouldn’t have been allowed in front of cameras. “But it was pretty easy. You always look at him like you’re not sure you’re allowed to.”

“Ah,” Eddie says, faint, as if that simple sentence isn’t causing him to have a crisis in the middle of a too-hot trailer, leaning against a beanbag chair that smells faintly of weed. “That’s - uh. Good to know.”

“Yep.” Lucy winks at him, stands up. “And, hey - for the record?” She lowers her voice, low enough that there’s no chance of Buck hearing. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, or how to figure your shit out. But he looks at you the same way.”

-

By that afternoon, Eddie’s pretty sure that his earlier assumption about the rest of the teams hating their guts was spot-on. 

Okay, maybe closer to half, but it’s still enough - enough that Eddie gets tripped as they play some convoluted game of capture the flag that morning, enough that one of the guys from New York leaves the table when Eddie sits down for lunch. He’s not bothered by it, not really - especially because he’s pretty sure most of it has to do with producer influence - but he’s pretty sure the more volatile people are itching for a fight, and he’s keen to avoid that at all costs.

Which is, of course, the opposite of what Taylor wants.

“Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of fire safety message built into this show?” Buck says skeptically, shivering as Eddie rubs more oil (seriously, fuck his life) onto his shoulders and back. “I’d say making myself extremely flammable isn’t conducive to that goal.”

“Counterpoint,” Eddie says, trying to ignore the way Buck’s muscles flex as Eddie’s hands travel lower down his spine, “they could light you on fire and use it in the previews. Would probably draw a decent-sized crowd.” He taps Buck’s hip lightly. “Turn around and let me get your chest.”

“Oh, I’ll let you get it, alright,” Buck says, waggling his eyebrows in a ridiculous leer. His face is flushed, eyes bright and sparkling, and Eddie bites back the urge - for about the thousandth time today - to tell him about his stupid feelings. He blames Lucy. “Seriously, this stuff is going to make me break out.”

“Poor baby,” Eddie teases, kissing Buck’s chest, just above his heart. He tastes like canola oil and sweat, and yet he’s tempted to do it again. “Come on, off you go. Challenges to complete, titles to reclaim, all of that.”

Buck grumbles but acquiesces, kissing Eddie firmly on the lips before heading off to where the other teams are waiting, oiled-up bodies glistening in the sun. It looks hot, and also mildly disgusting, and Eddie’s incredibly grateful that he picked the other half of this challenge, which is - a lot less intense, to put it mildly. 

He grabs the radio Lucy hands to him and goes to stand behind the line of monitors with the other partners. “Can you hear me okay?”

“Loud and clear,” Buck assures him, voice staticky through his earpiece. On the cameras, Eddie watches in amusement as they’re all instructed to lie down on a tarp, the gaping entrance to a low, winding maze spreading in front of them.

(“You’re supposed to wiggle on your stomach like a worm,” Ravi had explained earlier, in between wheezing laughs. Eddie’s pretty sure his camera had been bouncing too much for any of the footage to be usable. “A bunch of us had to go lube up the tunnels this morning.”)

In any case, the tunnels are now sufficiently… lubed, or at least appear so, as Taylor calls for them to start and they genuinely slide forward, elbows flying as they wiggle their way into the maze, which Eddie thinks looks less like the crawl space it’s supposed to represent and more like a failed children’s fort. 

God, he can’t wait for this to be on TV. Hen and Chimney are going to have a field day.

“Okay,” Buck says over the radio, sounding winded. “Which way?”

The cameras in front of Eddie are a riot of color, competitors splitting off through the tunnels towards the exit. He takes a moment to orient himself, spots a few obvious dead ends.

“Right,” he says finally, watching in amusement on the screen as Buck follows. “And then your next left. Watch out, I think Samira’s already in there.”

“Gotcha.” Buck’s silent for a moment, and Eddie catches him on the next monitor, hiking on his elbows past Samira, who seems to be sliding repeatedly down the short incline. “Okay. What’s next?”

It’s not a long maze, but it is convoluted, hard for Eddie to comprehend without really being in there himself. He loses a good chunk of time sending Buck down a narrow tunnel, only to realize his mistake at the last minute, Buck cursing as Eddie makes him double back. 

“I’m doing this to you next time,” he complains, and Eddie has a horrible, awful moment when he thinks about what kind of context would require him, Buck, and a whole lot of lube.

“You’re in first place still,” he says instead, thankful that his voice doesn’t crack. “Next right, then right again. The tunnel should be straight out from there.”

“Oh, thank God,” Buck says in relief, rounding the last corner. Eddie’s about to cheer when a figure appears behind him without warning - one of the guys from New York, hauling ass as if his life depends on it. Which, considering his team’s shit performance that morning in capture the flag, it kind of does.

The guy reaches Buck before he can call out, elbowing him straight in the side as he tries his best to claw ahead. Eddie knows that producers are watching their every move, that they’ll call for a time-out if it gets too rough, but his heart is still in his throat as Buck pushes the guy back, sending him straight into the tarped wall. They grapple again for a few more moments, Buck landing another well-placed shove before he finally makes it out of the tunnel with the other guy on his heels, collapsing on the grass, exhausted and - bleeding?

Eddie’s moving before he can think, jogging over across the field to where Buck’s still lying on the ground, a steady stream of blood dripping from his face. He looks up when he sees Eddie approach, shoots him a tired grin. 

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi.” Eddie grabs the cloth a PA pushes in his direction, holds it under Buck’s chin to prevent some of the spillage. “You have fun in there?”

“I won the challenge for you.” Buck winks at him, somehow managing to look handsome even with an awful nosebleed. 

“I know,” Eddie says patiently, pushing Buck’s head forward, although he knows he’s perfectly capable of handling it himself. It’s just - he doesn’t like seeing Buck in pain, even if it’s minor. “Spit for me; you have blood on your teeth.”

Buck does as he’s told, shooting a red-tinged grin at Eddie afterwards. “Be honest. Does this make me look all sexy and rugged?”

“Oh, definitely,” Eddie deadpans, waving away Lucy, who’s come with a medic. “It’s okay, I’ve got him.”

“He does,” Buck agrees, reaching up with his free hand to poke at his nose. Eddie swats him away, a moment too late. “I don’t think it’s broken. Probably going to bruise, though.”

Eddie hums, leaning back on his heels as two other competitors emerge from the maze, shooting their little group a semi-worried look before reuniting with their partners.

“You’ll still let me take a look at it tonight, though?”

“Totally,” Buck assures him, although with his nose plugged, it sounds more like tobaly. Eddie decidedly doesn’t find it cute, not at all. “What’s the point of having a hot paramedic boyfriend if I can’t even get him to patch up my wounds?”

Eddie knows, without even looking, that he’s probably flushed bright red. Hopefully, he can just pass it off as heatstroke.

“Right,” he agrees, voice hoarse. “That’s what I’m here for.”

-

Much to Eddie’s chagrin, the asshole who hit Buck doesn’t get eliminated that night, despite his one-man campaign to Lucy (who, as she reminds Eddie multiple times, “literally has no fucking control over the direction of this show, dude.”) Instead, it’s an older couple from North Carolina, who had been shooting death glares at Buck and Eddie while they lounged by the pool after the challenge, so he’s not too torn up about it, honestly. 

Samira and Riley are still here, which is nice, and don’t seem to totally hate Eddie, which is doubly nice, so he seeks them out the next morning, when Buck’s off valiantly recapping his heroic escape (his words, not Eddie’s) to Ravi and Lucy. The villa is starting to feel empty, with only four couples left, meaning that the producers are becoming even more insistent about Eddie becoming a “social person,” whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

(“It means you’re an introvert who hates strangers,” Buck had said fondly that morning, face lightly bruised but still in one piece, thankfully.)

Now, as he sits down on an uncomfortable wicker sofa, two cameras trained on his face, he realizes that Buck, as always, was exactly correct. 

Because it’s not like Eddie doesn’t like people. Eddie likes some people. He likes his wine nights with Hen and Karen and backyard get-togethers with the 118. He just doesn’t like talking to people he doesn’t know, especially about his personal life, which, unfortunately, seems to be the M.O. of Burning Up as a whole.

Luckily, Riley and Samira seem more than happy to carry on the conversation, recounting their version of yesterday’s events (“I came in fourth, because someone let me circle back to the same blocked tunnel twice”), and their hottest house gossip, which just seems to solely consist of who keeps stealing all the waffles from the kitchen. Eddie, who knows for a fact it’s Buck, wisely keeps his mouth shut.

Eventually, though, the conversation falters, and Eddie’s trapped, two pairs of dark eyes turned in his direction.

“So,” Samira starts, smiling. Eddie begins to debate if throwing Buck under the bus for wafflegate would help him get out of this. “How have you and Buck been?”

Eddie swallows a sip of awful coffee (not enough creamer; Buck makes it better) before responding.

“Good,” he says, running his fingers along the rim of the cup. And then, because it feels polite- “how are you guys doing?”

Riley shrugs. “It’s weird, having the cameras on us all the time. But better than some others.” She leans forward, conspiratorial. “I heard Tommy and Fred fighting last night.”

Tommy and Fred. Eddie’s guessing that’s the New York couple. Christ, he really should have tried harder to learn people’s names.

“Better than fucking,” Samira snorts, nudging Riley’s side. “That’s what they’ve been doing the other four nights.”

“You can hear that?”

“Yes?” Samira looks at him, eyebrows raised. “The walls are pretty thin. The first time I heard it while showering, I thought someone died.” She smiles at Eddie, curious. “Are you guys just - abstaining, this week, or not into it? You’re on our other side, but we haven’t heard a thing.”

Fuck. Eddie spirals for a lie, comes up with nothing.

“I guess we’ve been pretty quiet,” he says, finally. Riley shoots him a confused look, and he feels the urge to clarify. “I mean - we have been. We enjoy it. Uh. Sex. Me and Buck, that is. Having sex. Together.”

Eddie thinks, privately, that now would be a great time for the ground to swallow him whole. It, unfortunately, doesn’t move.

“Right.” Riley’s face is unreadable, but there’s a hint of something there - skepticism, maybe? - that has sweat suddenly prickling on the back of Eddie’s neck. It’s just - Lucy already knows their secret. He can’t risk more people finding out, not when they’re so close.

Thankfully, both women seem content to drop it, the conversation moving on without another word. It sticks in Eddie’s mind, though, all through the morning’s challenge (dexterity drills, they place second) and through a rushed lunch. He can tell that Buck knows something’s up, if the worried looks he keeps shooting Eddie’s way are any indication, but - for better or for worse - they’re far too busy to talk. Eddie doesn’t even know what he would say, anyways - he doubts another team asked prying questions about our sex life and now I can’t stop thinking about you pinning me down to our mattress would go over well.

He’s so caught up in trying to make sense of it all that by the time the afternoon rolls around, Eddie’s pretty much running on fumes, barely comprehending as Lucy explains the particulars of this challenge to their team. He thinks he manages to still catch the gist of it - strength challenge, move the weight from one point to another - which is why it throws him for a loop when Buck grins at him and says -

“I’ll be on top, then?”

Jesus Christ, he’s a mind reader, Eddie thinks, panicked, before realizing that it probably has something to do with the challenge, given that the rest of the groups around them are engaged in a similar discussion. He clears his throat, tries his best to stay in the moment as he watches the boys from New York - Tommy and Fred, he reminds himself - practice, Tommy lying flat on his back with his arms around Fred’s neck, Fred pulling them both forward on his hands and legs, practically crawling along the ground. 

Not for the first time, Eddie’s beginning to wonder what, in fact, any of this has to do with firefighting. 

In front of him, Buck’s staring at him, vaguely amused. Eddie realizes with a start that he’s never actually answered his question.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, lying down on the dirt. “Zoned out. I’m good with that.”

“Of course you’re good with it, you barely have to do any work,” Buck grumbles, but he’s grinning when he sits down, practically straddling Eddie’s waist. It would be mildly uncomfortable on any given day, but - now? After Eddie’s spent the morning thinking about all things Buck and sex and him and Buck having sex? It’s practically unbearable.

Some of it must show on his face, because Buck’s leaning down, brushing his mouth against Eddie’s ear.

“The offer to leave still stands,” he whispers, so unbearably sweet but so far off from the truth that Eddie can’t help but give him a soft smile. 

“I’m good,” he promises, and he is, really is - up until Taylor calls for them to start and Buck begins moving.

And it’s torture, honestly, being eye level with Buck’s arms, watching the way they flex as he pulls them both forward, slow and sweaty. That’s not even taking into account the way he keeps letting out little breaths, hair flopping in front of his eyes and over his birthmark with every one, and the long curve of his legs, the way they’re moving on either side of Eddie’s body, keeping him pinned. Eddie’s whole body feels like a live wire, like one spark might set him alight.

Buck starts flagging about halfway through the course, neck-and-neck with Tommy and Fred, who Eddie begrudgingly admits are putting up a valiant fight. He pauses for a minute, ducks down to rest his forehead against Eddie’s chest, and Eddie almost loses it right then and there.

“You got this,” he says instead, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Just a little longer, I promise.”

He’s not sure if he’s saying that to reassure Buck or himself.

In any case, it seems to be the motivation Buck needs, hauling them both across the finish line just before Tommy and Fred. A groan goes up from the other team, but Eddie can barely bring himself to care about the standings, not when Buck is still straddling him in the end zone, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he belongs there.

Eddie wants him off immediately. Eddie also wants to get him off immediately. 

It’s a bit of a problem, honestly.

-

By the time they get back to the room that night, Eddie feels about ready to vibrate out of his skin, barely managing to listen as Buck rambles about something while he gets changed, the planes of his back rippling as he pulls his shirt over and off. He’s been strategizing about how to say this all evening, worked through a billion different options while they survived yet another elimination ceremony, but now, looking at Buck, all tanned skin and curly hair, all that manages to come out of his mouth is -

“We need to have really loud sex tonight.”

Buck, to his credit, doesn’t yell, or freak out, or leave the country, or any of the other horrible options Eddie’s mind quickly presents him with. He does, however, grab Eddie by the elbow and haul him over to the bathroom, pressing a worried hand to his forehead.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks, other hand reaching up to grab Eddie’s chin, pull his face close. Eddie tries valiantly to squirm out of his grasp. “Did you hit your head earlier?”

“No?”

“Really?” Buck lets go of him, takes a frazzled step back. “Because I could have sworn that you asked me to have, and I quote, ‘really loud sex’ with you tonight, despite the fact that we’re not actually dating.”

The last few words of his sentence come out as a hiss, so low that Eddie can barely hear them.

“Fake sex,” he clarifies, trying not to feel too hurt at the way Buck’s whole body slumps in relief. “Just - I was talking to Riley and Samira earlier-”

“Look at you, being a social butterfly.”

Eddie pauses momentarily to flip him off. “I was talking to Riley and Samira,” he repeats. “And they mentioned that they share a wall with us and the guys from New York, but they - uh. Haven’t heard us all week. And then I told them that we definitely enjoyed sex and were sleeping together, which I know was a mistake, but it just slipped out and they looked like they didn’t believe me, and - why are you laughing?”

In front of him, Buck’s shoulders are shaking so hard that Eddie’s half-worried he might fall over.

“Sorry, baby,” he apologizes, not sounding very sorry at all. “It’s just - only you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s a compliment, don’t worry.” Buck grins at him, all blue eyes and tousled hair. He is, to Eddie’s chagrin, still shirtless, which is really, really not helping his body stay calm and chill about the topic at hand. “Okay. So how do you want to do this?”

Eddie blinks at him, confused. “You don’t have any follow-up questions?”

“Nope,” Buck says, popping the p. “I mean, if you’re uncomfortable with it, I can try my best to make it a one-man show. But - honestly? It’s reality TV. I’m pretty sure I still have canola oil coming out of my pores, and these suspenders are giving me, like, the worst tan lines of my life. This is easy, compared to that.”

Eddie pointedly tries his best not to think about what Buck’s idea of a one-man show looks like.

“I’m game if you are,” he says finally, throat dry. “I was thinking just - noises. Maybe bang on the wall, once or twice. It doesn’t have to be long.”

“Okay, if we’re having fake sex, I’m refusing to have it be short and mediocre,” Buck declares, sliding to the bathroom floor with a solid thump. It’s only been two days since the last time they hung out in here, under much different circumstances, although it feels much longer. Time passes differently on set, Eddie’s learned. “I can’t take another blow to my ego.”

Eddie snorts and sits down next to him, shoulders brushing. “It’s big enough, don’t worry.”

“We still talking about my ego, here?”

“Dumbass.” Eddie leans back against the wall, listening for the sound of voices. It’s early, early enough that he doesn’t feel guilty, but Samira and Riley are definitely in their room, which means: “Are you ready to go?”

“Born ready.” 

“Right.” Eddie takes a deep breath, tries his best to stay calm. “I’ll just - start, I guess.”

It feels ridiculous, the tile cold under his ass and Buck smirking beside him, but he makes himself do it anyways, letting out his best approximation of a moan, banging the wall once for good measure. It isn’t, like, going to make any top ten lists, but Eddie thinks he sounded - okay.

Buck, obviously, doesn’t agree.

“What was that?” He chokes out, reaching out to grab Eddie’s hand. “You sounded like a dying cat.”

Because Eddie’s a mature adult, he resists the urge to stick his tongue out at Buck. Instead, he elbows him in the side.

“You try then, if you think you’re such an expert.” 

Buck does, throat thrown back in concentration, ending up sounding somewhere between a plane engine and a deflated balloon.

Eddie grimaces. “Please tell me that’s not how you normally sound like.”

“Definitely not,” Buck defends himself, laughing. “Just - I don’t know. It feels a lot more natural in the moment. There’s a lot more buildup.”

And Eddie - Eddie’s playing a dangerous game here. Eddie should pull away, go to bed, and forget this whole ridiculous plan.

Eddie’s not good at making smart decisions lately.

“Okay,” he says, voice hoarse. “Say - hypothetically. We were doing this for real. What would you do?”

“Hypothetically?” Buck twists his fingers together, contemplative. “I mean, it wouldn’t be on a bathroom floor, for starters.”

“Obviously.”

“And - I don’t know.” Buck pauses to let out another moan, clearly staged. Eddie hates that it makes something low in his gut tug anyways. “I’d kiss you, probably. Figure out what you like. I’m flexible.”

I bet you are, Eddie’s horrible, horrible brain supplies. He firmly tells it to shut up.

“I’d probably just talk to you.”

“Yeah?” Buck punctuates his question with a little shuddery fake gasp. “What would you say?”

And this - this is it. The point of no return. 

Eddie takes a deep breath, and leaps. 

“I’d tell you how incredible I think you are,” he says, honest. He can’t tell if the noise Buck makes in response is staged or not. “How kind you are to a world that hasn’t been kind to you. How fucking smart you are. All of your facts, everything you know.” He takes a deep breath. “How beautiful you are.”

Buck moans, soft and in the back of his throat. Two twin pink spots dance high on his cheeks. Eddie can’t bring himself to look away.

“How fucking gorgeous you are,” he repeats, because it feels necessary. “How much I’ve admired you from the moment I met you. How much you mean to me. How much I-” he cuts himself off, abrupt, feeling like a bucket of ice water’s been dumped down his spine. Because this is - this is too much. What is he even doing here - about to tell Buck he loves him? 

In front of him, Buck pauses from where he’s been leaning against the wall, making sounds loud enough that Eddie’s sure Samira and Riley have caught on to their supposed activities. 

“You okay?”

“Fine,” Eddie says, voice strangled. “I mean - that’s all I would do. Hypothetically.”

Buck’s staring at him, with an odd expression Eddie can’t quite figure out. “Right,” he says, slow. “All hypothetical.” Eddie doesn’t speak, and he sighs, cracks a smile. “Come on, man. I can’t be the only one doing all the work.”

They spend another fifteen minutes (“anything less than that would make Buck 1.0 cry,” Buck says, mock-serious) trying to make the loudest collection of noises they possibly can, complete with Buck letting out an obnoxious “oh, yeah” that feels straight out of a bad eighties porno. It’s - fun, honestly, Eddie trying not to laugh too loudly as they take turns hammering against the wall, but he’s only half focused, still fixated on the moment (was that a moment? Can a hypothetical scenario count as a moment?) just before, when Eddie almost - said it. Gave all his cards away, once and for all.

He’s worried Buck might pick up on his weird mood, but thankfully he seems remarkably oblivious, helping Eddie up from the floor once they’ve deemed their fake activities complete and curling up beside him in bed, same as always. God, Eddie’s going to miss this when they go home.

“Big day tomorrow,” Buck murmurs, planting a kiss in Eddie’s hair, so tender he nearly wants to cry. “You ready?”

Eddie is not ready. Eddie really isn’t ready, for many, many reasons. 

“Yeah,” he lies through his teeth. “For sure.”

-

Eddie doesn’t feel any better the next morning, although that might have less to do with his almost-confession the night before and the fact that today is it, the morning’s challenge whittling them down to two before the final showdown this afternoon. 

And, like - yeah. He knows, objectively, that this entire show is ridiculous, and that win or lose, it’s been a pretty fun experience. But Eddie, if he’s being honest with himself, wants to win. They’re so close to the $100,000 that he can practically taste it at this point, and he knows the other teams do too, everyone eyeing each other with suspicion as the producers shuttle them outside.

The crew had all been decidedly tight-lipped last night, even Ravi refusing to speak a word, and now, looking at the field in front of them, Eddie understands why. There’s a tall set of training stairs cutting through the middle of the landscape, metal glistening in the sun, camera crews already positioned around the base.

“Ah, fuck,” Buck mutters, the second they spot the gear - real gear, not the flimsy fake uniforms they’ve been wearing all week. Eddie’s heart begins to beat a little faster in his chest. He knows he’s a damn good firefighter - and he knows Buck is, too - but a week of half-assed challenges has made him a little - complacent. 

Lucy grins at them while she hands them their gear, Ravi flitting around in the background.

“It’s a two-parter,” she explains, because of course they’re not going to make things easy for them. “You’ve each got to carry these weights up the stairs, and then grab the rope at the top and pull the hoses up as well.”

Buck nods, short. “How much do the weights weigh?”

“50 pounds each.” Ravi grins at them like this is the best day of his life. Eddie thinks, petulantly, that he should make Ravi do this challenge and see how he likes it. “And the hoses are 42, plus five or so for the rope.”

“Oh, and it’s timed,” Lucy adds, like that wasn’t enough. “Plus a penalty if the weights touch the ground.”

“Of course.” Eddie exhales once through his nose and starts pulling on his gear. “You ready for this, Buckley?”

Buck grins at him from where he’s shrugging on his turncoat. “Born ready, Diaz.”

It feels like coming home, in a way, to get dressed alongside Buck, to strategize together as Fred and Tommy run the course first, hollering commands to each other as they ascend the tower. Eddie’s selfishly hoping for them to - not fall, necessarily, but maybe stumble - but they complete the course unscathed, managing to pull off a ridiculous time of just under two minutes. 

It’s enough to make Eddie worried, even more so when Samira and Riley absolutely demolish the course right after them, coming in at 1:44, fast enough to all but guarantee them a spot in the top two.

“Right,” Buck murmurs, blowing out a breath through his nose. “I guess it comes down to this, then.” He leans in, kisses Eddie square on the mouth. “We got this, babe.”

And it’s so much, the collision of all of Eddie’s worlds, tugging his helmet into place while his lips are still tingling from Buck’s kiss, but he can’t dwell on that now. They’re fighting for second at this point, and Eddie refuses - as ridiculous as this all might be - to go home without giving it his all.

Off to the side, Taylor lines them up, gives them one last safety briefing, and then they’re off, nothing but the pounding of Eddie’s heart and the whoosh of Buck’s breath. He nearly trips on the third flight of stairs, knee clunking uncomfortably against the metal, but Buck’s right there to pull him up, staying by his side as they dash up the next two flights and out onto the landing, dropping the weights with a sigh.

“Halfway there,” Buck promises, sounding nervous. Eddie glances behind him quickly and notices the cause for concern - they’re trailing behind where both of the other teams were at this stage by at least three seconds. “It’s okay, we’re still in this.”

Eddie grits his teeth and nods, running over to the rope and beginning to pull, one hand over the next. It’s windier up here than on the ground, the donut-rolled hose at the end of the rope rocking back and forth in the breeze, but he forces himself to focus, to keep it as steady as possible. It’s easier said than done. 

A horn sounds behind them, followed by cheers from downstairs - they’ve passed Samira and Riley’s time. Eddie lets out a breath and pulls faster, aware of Buck doing the same beside him, his face covered with sweat as his rope slips slightly, the hose dropping a few feet below Eddie’s own.

“Ten seconds,” Eddie warns, hauling his own hose up and over, muscles screaming in protest. The end of the rope is coiled behind Buck, and he goes to grab it, using their combined strength to make up the lost time. “You got this baby, you’re doing amazing, you’re so close-”

Buck drops his hose on the platform with a clang, just as the timer behind them sounds again. Eddie can barely dare to look, can barely stomach the thought, but Buck lets out a laugh from where he’s collapsed on the floor, tired and wrung-out, and Eddie knows, right then and there, that they’ve done it.

“One second to spare,” he says, voice hoarse, and Eddie can’t help it, can’t do anything but grab Buck and kiss him senseless, right there on there on the ground. Buck smiles against his lips, one hand tugging on Eddie’s hair just like the very first day, except it’s not, because this is - this is real. Eddie can feel it in his bones, the way Buck presses against him, the way he pushes his tongue inside Eddie’s mouth, soft and exploratory, that none of this is for the cameras. 

It’s for no one but the two of them. 

“Okay,” Lucy says over a megaphone, her voice carrying throughout the field. “Congratulations, you did it. Please don’t bone on this; we have to return it tomorrow.”

Eddie can barely hear her, too busy focusing on Buck, laid out on the ground in front of him, helmet discarded and sweaty curls clinging to his forehead like a halo. Buck, who’s staring right back at Eddie as if something has just come together in his mind, one hand reaching up to brush the side of Eddie’s face.

There’s something in his look, something desperate and near-primal, that has Eddie moving quickly despite his tiredness, hustling down the stairs and throwing off his gear without a second thought. The producers try to stop them, catch them for an interview before lunch, but Eddie shrugs them off as quickly as he can, never letting go of Buck’s hand as he races back to the villa, heart thumping out of his chest.

“I don’t think I’m reading this wrong, but stop me if I am,” he says, the second their door slams shut behind them, before pressing Buck up against the entryway wall and kissing him with everything he has.

This time, when Buck kisses him back, Eddie knows for sure what he felt on top of the tower - that neither of them are pretending anymore. That he means it, just as much as Eddie does. 

They’re both sweaty and gross and disgusting, and Eddie’s pretty sure his legs are about to give out from exhaustion any minute, but none of it matters, not when Buck’s hands are exploring under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, not when Eddie’s busy pressing kisses into the line of Buck’s neck.

Buck’s hands wander lower, towards the front of Eddie’s waistband, and it takes all of Eddie’s strength to pull back, breathing heavily as he does.

“Wait,” he gets out, Buck’s face morphing quickly into concern. “No, I mean - not like that. I just - want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“The same page?”

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie says, and he’s sat on it for so long that he thinks it should feel monumental, a release of his soul. Instead, it just feels as simple as breathing. “And you don’t have to say it back now.  Or ever. But I’ve been stupidly in love with you for, like, a year, and I figured it was about time I probably let you know.” He stares at the light over Buck’s shoulder, just so he can avoid seeing whatever is clear on his face. “And this past week - getting to love you for real? To get to wake up with you every morning, and go to sleep with you every night? I want that forever. And maybe that’s too soon, or too forward, but it’s the truth, and it’s what you deserve from me.”

Buck’s silent for a minute, so long that Eddie’s worried he’s about to be horribly rejected, that he’ll have to flee the country and start a new life in Canada as, like, an alpaca farmer or something. 

“You love me?” He repeats, and there’s something about the way he says it that makes the air around them feel delicate, hazy. “Like, actually?”

“Yeah, actually.” Eddie’s throat is sticky, too overwhelmed with feeling. “Is that a problem?”

“Is that - baby.” Buck leans forward, kisses him square on the lips. “I’ve been in love with you for ages. You had to have known.”

Eddie did not know. Eddie, honestly, was harboring the impression that Buck would never, ever, be interested in him, up until he gave him the most earth-shattering kiss of his life on top of the training tower.

He says as much to Buck, who just laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“I love you,” he says again, definitive. “Like, a crazy amount. I would probably elope with you today if I could.”

“We’re not too far from Vegas. We could find an Elvis impersonator, easy.”

“That’s why you’re the one with the brains in this relationship.” Buck leans in to kiss him again, and then pulls back, looking panicked. “I mean-”

“Yeah, you just proposed marriage to me,” Eddie says, dry. “I think it’s okay to say that we’re dating.”

And isn’t that a thought in and of itself - him dating Buck. Going out for dinners, zoo trips with Chris, lying side-by-side in bed without worrying about keeping their hands to themselves. It feels - endless, the possibilities. A million different futures with Buck, splintering out right in front of Eddie’s eyes.

He leans forward and kisses Buck again, soft. Delicate.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you this before we came here,” he says, voice low. “But - honestly?” Eddie thinks of waking up with Buck curled around him in the mornings, brushing their teeth side-by-side in the mirror. A million little kisses over breakfast, their hands entwined by the pool. “I don’t think I’ve been pretending. Not for a long time.”

Buck lets out a little choked laugh, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s hair. “Likewise.”

There’s a supernova blooming in Eddie’s chest, hotter than a thousand suns. He doesn’t know the last time he’s been this happy. He doesn’t know if he ever was.

And then the door behind them clicks open. 

“Well,” Taylor drawls, an inscrutable expression on her face. “This is an interesting turn of events.” 

-

So. Eddie can admit that having his very loud, very passionate declaration of love take place right next to a thin wooden door, in a room full of cameras, probably wasn’t his smartest move.

Because now he’s in a room with Taylor, and Lucy, and what feels like half of the crew, trying to explain the everything that led him and Buck to the Burning Up set, Ravi lurking in the corner with his ever-present camera.

“Okay, so run me through this again,” Taylor says finally, looking exhausted. “You weren’t dating when you came on the show, but you’re - what? Boyfriends, now?”

“Um.” Eddie looks at Buck, who looks equally panicked. “Yes? Maybe? We haven’t really had time to discuss labels.”

The because you barged into our room goes unspoken, but Eddie knows Taylor hears it anyways, if the way she narrows her eyes at him is any indication.

“For the record,” Buck interjects, raising a hand. “I’m in favor of that idea.”

Eddie grins at him, pleased. “Yeah?”

“Okay,” Taylor says again, impatient. Eddie’s too busy grabbing his boyfriend’s hand (boyfriend!! Buck is his boyfriend!!) to really give a fuck. “Great. And I’m assuming we can’t kick them off the show at this point?”

That’s directed to one of the other producers, who shakes their head. “Ratings.”

“Ratings,” Buck echoes solemnly, as if he has a clue what he’s talking about. There’s a vein in Taylor’s forehead that looks ready to burst. “Totally.”

“Right,” Taylor blows out a sigh. “We’ll reschedule the final challenge for tonight. In the meantime, you two will be doing interviews with Ravi and Lucy. Walk us through everything. Make it seem like this was our plan all along.” Eddie opens his mouth to complain, but thinks better of it when Taylor shoots him a steely glare. “We’ll have updated disclosure agreements for you both to sign by dinner. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Buck says, shooting her a megawatt grin. She doesn’t even react, just demands for a PA to get her a coffee. “Always a pleasure speaking with you, Taylor.”

“Never contact me again after this, Buckley,” Taylor retorts, just as Lucy begins manhandling them both out of the room. “That goes double for you, Diaz.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Eddie mutters, yelping when Lucy pinches his bicep. “Fuck. What was that for?”

“Almost screwing Ravi and me out of our bonuses,” she says, dumping them both on the interview couch unceremoniously. Ravi follows behind them, already smirking. “When I told you to make your big confession, I didn’t mean while filming, dumbass.”

“To be fair, your instructions were extremely unclear,” Eddie bitches, reaching down to rub his sore arm. Buck leans in to kiss it better, easy as anything, and Lucy mimes throwing up.

“How is it possible that you two are even more nauseating than before?”

“I knew something was off with you guys,” Ravi says, sounding far too smug for a guy that Eddie saw drop maple syrup all over himself at breakfast. “I could sense it.”

Lucy snorts. “He thought you two were divorced, he means.”

And - Eddie’s not even going to even begin to try to unpack all that. He ignores their bickering in favor of taking Buck’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Buck shoots him a fond look. “What was that for?”

A million reasons. For loving Eddie. For loving Chris. For being the only person in the world that Eddie could ever imagine going on this ridiculous adventure with.

He hides his smile with another kiss. “Just felt like it, I guess.” In front of them, Lucy and Ravi are now attempting to whack each other with throw pillows. “Are we ready to get started, guys?”

Ravi pops out of the headlock Lucy’s pulled him into, hair sticking up in every direction. “Totally,” he chirps, walking back over to the camera. “Okay, let’s go from the beginning.”

By the time they’ve finished recapping everything - and Eddie means everything, down to what he had for dinner the day he realized he was in love with Buck - Eddie’s exhausted, voice hoarse from use. One glance over at Buck shows him that he’s in a similar boat, dark smudges under his eyes and his hair a frizzy riot. 

He’s still, in Eddie’s completely unbiased opinion, the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“I think we’ve got everything,” Lucy says, taking a loud slurp of iced coffee. Ravi’s lying sideways on the couch beside her, a hand dramatically pressed to his forehead. “You’ve got, like, ten minutes to go eat. Make the most of it.”

Eddie does, wolfing down at least three hamburgers next to Buck before another PA shuttles them back out to the field, the sun already low in the sky. There’s a roar of a crowd as they come into view, loud and pulsing, and Eddie’s beginning to realize why Taylor was so pissed about having to reschedule the final challenge - there must be at least two hundred people in the stands, easy.

It feels silly for Eddie to say that he forgot, exactly, what was at stake, but he kind of did, too caught up in the euphoria of kissing Buck to remember that they’re one win away from a ridiculously large sum of money. Across the field, he already can spot Samira and Riley getting into position, chatting with a couple of the producers, a camera trained on their every move. He wonders if they’ve been filled in on what happened earlier. He wonders what they think.

He doesn’t have to worry about it long, because Samira catches his eye and hollers, loud enough for the collected crowd to all hear. 

“The sex was fake, then?”

“The sex was fake, the feelings were real!” Buck shouts back, which, is like, objectively ridiculous, but makes Eddie lean in and kiss him anyways. It’s reality TV. They can be as ridiculous as they want. 

At some point during the afternoon, they’ve taken away the training tower and replaced it with a series of stations, spread out in a line with the stands on either side. Eddie catches sight of the heavy metal beams at the first one and winces - his arms still feel like jelly from the morning’s events.

“Same rules as before,” Lucy says, pushing their gear in their direction. “No stopping, both team members have to finish everything. Start with the mallet and beam - move it five feet, and then go to the hose advance. Once you hit the target, do the dummy drag as quickly as possible. Easy.” 

Eddie thinks he might pass out just hearing all that, but Buck just nods, grabbing Eddie’s hand. They’re going first this time, for better or for worse, meaning it’s not long before they’re being pushed over to the starting line, the crowd around them cheering. Eddie’s fairly certain that none of them have the faintest clue who either of them are.

“Hey,” he says, nudging Buck’s shoulder. He turns to look, eyebrows raised. “I love you.”

It sends a rush down his spine, even more so when Buck blows him a kiss with one bulky glove.

“Love you too, baby,” he says, bouncing up and down on his heels. “Come on, let’s do this.”

It’s easier at the start than Eddie expected, arms steady as he hits the beam through the Keiser machine, mallet swinging back and forth on instinct. Buck finishes a few seconds before he does, his beam skittering firmly across the five-foot line, and by the time Eddie meets him at the hoses, he’s already off, dragging it over the dirt towards the target.

Well. Eddie’s competitiveness isn’t just limited to the other teams.

He manages to fumble the nozzle open right at the same time as Buck, hitting the target just before him with a triumphant cry. Buck beams at him, sweaty and gorgeous, and they match pace as they head over to the set of mannequins, already positioned at a marked line.

Eddie shoots a worried glance over his shoulder at Buck, breathing heavily. “If you don’t think-”

“I’m good,” Buck promises, and he is, grabbing the dummy and dragging it backward, eyes focused on the clock in front of them, time clicking down. Eddie follows suit, and they cross the finish line side-by-side, collapsing in the sand without a second thought.

The horn behind them sounds, and Eddie looks up, grinning in relief at the time - 2:32, faster than he thought they truly were. It’s not impossible for the girls to beat, but certainly going to be a struggle.

He and Buck watch from the side as Riley and Samira start the course, Buck gripping his hand so hard that Eddie’s worried it’ll break. They’re faster than them at the beams, but falter at the hose challenge, perfectly matching Buck and Eddie’s time as they grab the dummies.

“Please,” Buck is muttering, both arms around Eddie’s waist. He’s not even sure when he moved. “Jesus Christ, please, please-”

The crowd around them is getting louder, a countdown starting. Eddie buries his face in Buck’s chest and refuses to look, heart caught somewhere in his throat.

It’s just - win or lose, he knows he has Buck, and that’s better than any prize. But he also wants this. He really, really wants this. 

Above them, a buzzer sounds. 

“Holy shit,” Buck says, hoarse, and then, louder, “holy fuck. Eddie, baby.”

Samira and Riley’s time on the screen reads 2:34.

“Oh my god,” Eddie manages to get out, and then he’s surging towards Buck, peppering his face with kisses. “Oh my god, we did it.”

Buck picks him up and swings him in the air clumsily. Eddie nearly falls over with how hard he’s laughing. In the background, he can hear Taylor yelling for the foam cannons, hair and makeup rushing over to make them look less dishevelled. It’s ridiculous, and overwhelming, and kind of crazy. It’s - well, it’s reality TV. 

Eddie doesn’t mind it one bit. 

-

Four Months Later

“Well,” Hen says, tearing her gaze away from the screen with an extremely judgemental look. “It’s safe to say I didn’t see that coming.” 

The TV at Bobby and Athena’s place is still playing through the credits of the last episode, some dramatic royalty-free song pulsing in the background. Eddie catches sight of both Ravi's and Lucy’s names and holds back a smile.

In his lap, Buck shifts.

“We told you guys we started dating during that trip,” he says accusingly, leaning forward. One of his hands is tracing lines up and down Eddie’s arm, light. Eddie doesn’t even think he realizes he’s doing it.

“We thought we meant that you guys sat down and talked beforehand like mature adults!” Chimney throws his hands up in the air. “Not that you - that.”

“Okay, some of it was exaggerated for TV.”

“So you didn’t have fake sex in your bathroom?”

Eddie winces. They’d promised that they’d let Chris watch a few clips tomorrow, but he’s beginning to think that they might not be able to find any that are even marginally appropriate.

“That part might have been real.”

On the couch, Athena takes a long sip out of her wine glass. Next to her, Bobby looks like he’s seriously mourning the hours he’s invested into watching Buck and Eddie make fools of themselves on national television.

To be fair, he’s not the only one. Looking back at the season, the clever editing and the producer manipulation that Eddie wasn’t even privy to at the time, he’s fairly certain Burning Up won’t be winning any awards any time soon, but that’s fine. He’s got Chris’s school all paid off, a trip to Disneyland scheduled for them all next summer, and a brand-new bunkroom going in at the station. Those are all wins in his book. 

And Buck - of course, Buck, snuggling against Eddie’s side while the rest of their friends look at them with a mix of fondness and exasperation. Eddie can’t bring himself to care, especially when most of his time spent with Buck is at work, where they’re the exact pinnacle of professionalism. 

(Well. Except for that one time they snuck off to fuck in the supply closet. But what Bobby doesn’t know won’t hurt him.)

“You have a ship name on Twitter,” Hen says, looking horrified. Eddie snorts at that - Buck had sent him the link to some of the more detailed posts after the first episode, as well as about twenty laughing emojis. Eddie wonders what they think now, now that everything’s aired and their will-they-won’t-they has been concluded for the people of America. 

Maybe he’ll check Twitter tonight, when he gets home. Maybe he’ll scroll through some posts after he and Buck go in to say goodnight to Chris, plan out the rest of their zoo trip tomorrow morning. Maybe he’ll even post something, the NDAs that they were forced to sign finally coming to a halt.

But, then again, Eddie thinks, looking at Buck, his wide smile and his beautiful blue eyes, maybe not.

He’s got more important things to worry about.