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Buck traps him in his own kitchen the morning after a 48 with a fresh pot of coffee and a box of assorted donuts, including the tres leches kind that are the only thing giving Eddie will to live some days, and Eddie can’t even be mad about it because there’s coffee and carbs and someone else in the house to make Christopher wake up in half an hour. The pre-teen morning grouchiness is no joke. But half an hour is in half an hour, and right now is - right now.
Right now is Buck saying, too blue-eyed, too pink-mouthed, “Come and meet them tonight. You’ll like them, I swear.”
‘Them’ is old frathouse roommate Connor, and the woman currently gestating a fetus that Buck helped to make, also known as Kameron. Who the fuck spells that name with a K, Eddie thinks uncharitably.
Buck is going on, “They’re super nice and they wanna get to know all my important people. We’re still figuring out how we’re gonna, you know, do this thing.”
Shouldn’t you have had it all figured out before there was an actual fetus in an actual uterus? Eddie again thinks uncharitably.
Buck continues, “And you and Chris are like, you’re my people. You and Maddie and Jee, and I guess Chimney, and I don’t know, throw Albert in there maybe. Since we’re co-uncles. And of course Hen and Bobby, and ‘Thena definitely.”
Are you just going to list everyone you know? Eddie’s internal voice deadpans.
Too earnest, Buck says, “But you’re the one, I just, I really want for you to like them. So come and meet them, okay? I know this has been pretty weird, but you’re my best friend.”
Fuck fucking fuckity fuck. “Yeah, man, of course.” Eddie fake smiles. “I’ll bring the wine.” Kameron is pregnant. With Buck’s baby. That’s the whole point of this. Fuck. “Non-alcoholic wine.”
Buck beams like the sun.
Not to be a jerk about this, but - okay, but - Eddie never expected the donor thing to pan out. For one thing, Buck never came to him to talk about it. Some part of Eddie thought it wasn’t a real thing because if it were, he’d know. He knows every important thing about Buck, every hurt and fragile spot, he is intimately zeroed in on everything important about Buck’s life just like Buck is for him.
So he was surprised and it was kind of a joke when he first found out, because obviously it couldn’t be serious or real or true. Eddie didn’t think Buck would actually - but then Buck did, and now there’s a pregnant woman, and that is definitely a thing that is happening.
Part of Eddie thinks, How did I miss this? And the rest of Eddie thinks, Jesus Christ this is a trainwreck and I have seen real trainwrecks so I know.
And he thinks again, No, really, how did I miss this?
He got blindsided. He sits there wondering about his field of view.
He’d seen Connor and Kameron from a distance, obviously, back at the firehouse. They were shorter than Buck, but most people were. Shorter than Buck and want his sperm, those are the two things Eddie knows about them.
Eddie makes it a mission to get to Buck’s place early that night, but they’ve still beaten him there.
“We wanted to help cook!” That’s Kameron. She’s blonde and perky.
“We did not know how to cook anything like this back when we lived together.” That’s Connor. He’s brunet and perky.
“How long did you guys live together, anyway?” That’s Eddie. He’s fucking annoyed. He’s trying really hard to not be quite so annoyed, or at least to not show it.
“Oh, man, how long was it?” Connor is moving around the kitchen with Buck, at ease sharing close quarters in a way that kind of makes Eddie’s hackles rise up. “We met in Mancora, you came back with us to LA, uh, I wanna say in 2016?”
“I think 2015,” Buck says. “I remember voting in 2016, so I must have been in country for that.”
Connor snaps his fingers and points at Buck. “That’s right. Election night, midnight margaritas.”
Buck’s face stretches out in a wide grin. “Midnight margaritas,” he echoes, voice low and pleased. Like he’s recalling some inside joke, where he and Connor are on the inside and Eddie is not.
In 2016, Eddie was a few months home from Afghanistan and rocking a pretty severe case of PTSD, struggling through physio to get full range back with his wrist, and watching his marriage and family life fall apart. In 2015, he was getting shot. Our life experiences are not the same, Eddie thinks sourly.
In 2023, Kameron says, “Frathouse,” and shakes her head.
“And then Buck moved out somewhere in 2019. Kind of hard to pin it down since he was still paying rent for a couple of months and he’d pop in and out, but he was mostly at Abby’s place, right?”
“That’s right,” Buck nods. “It’s kind of weird, actually, now that I think about it, I lived the longest with you guys than I have pretty much anywhere else besides my childhood home.”
“Aw, buddy,” Connor says. He swoops in for a hug. “We loved having you there. It definitely sucked when you left.”
Eddie stares at them as the hug stretches past the acceptable bro time limit. Is there a different time limit when one bro has asked another bro to be his sperm donor? Does that… exponentially extend how long you hold an embrace? Are they just gonna hug for the rest of their lives?
Okay, no, Buck breaks free. Not because they seem to have reached a natural end point to the hug, but because whatever he’s sauteeing is making angry hissing noises that demand his attention.
“I met Connor a little while after that,” Kameron chimes in. She isn’t showing yet, but Eddie is definitely aware that she’s pregnant. She has like, a pregnant voice.
“Yeah,” Conner says. “After Buck and Abby got serious and he moved out, it was sort of a kick in the pants for the rest of us, you know? Like, oh shit, we’ve all got good jobs, maybe it’s time to start working on the family side, get serious about somebody.”
“But they didn’t get serious,” Eddie says. “Buck was just housesitting.”
An uncomfortable silence descends. The silence that follows truth, Eddie thinks in a self-righteous jackass sort of way. But really also just the silence that follows someone being a self-righteous jackass.
Buck flashes him a confused, slightly hurt look, then gives Eddie his back in favor of whatever the hell he’s cooking over there.
“Well,” Connor clears his throat. “It was pretty obvious Buck was serious about Abby and willing to go all in, so yeah, he definitely was my inspiration anyway. When I met Kameron, I had this minute where I wanted to revert to old fuckboy habits. But I thought, if my good buddy can do it, I can do it too. Try for a real connection, make a real commitment.” He smiles, tender and intimate, making eye contact with his wife. “We were together for a couple of months before the pandemic hit, and we were at go or no go when the lockdowns were announced. We picked ‘go’ and I moved in with her, and next thing I know, we’re doing a wholeass virtual ceremony and saying our I do’s.”
Kameron sniffles. “Once we knew we wanted to be married, we just couldn’t wait. Screw covid, right?”
“That’s so romantic,” Buck says, misty-eyed.
“Yeah, really romantic,” Eddie choruses, dead inside.
During lockdown, he was living cheek by jowl in this very apartment, stacked like firewood on top of Buck and Hen and Chim. When they weren’t on shift hauling failing bodies to emergency, they were here, falling asleep or desperately trying to fall asleep. He saw Chris through a computer screen. He’d had to tell so many people, while loading their parents/children/partners on his gurney, ‘Sorry, you can’t come with us, you can’t go to the hospital, someone will call you and let you know the status of your loved one.’ Every night was a different type of breakdown. In the loft bed just up there, Eddie had had a real normal hour of sitting on the edge and staring at his knees without blinking until he had the persistent thought that he was dead and this was purgatory. Buck had hauled him backwards and over so that he was laying on his side, pulled Eddie right against his broad chest so that Eddie could feel the strength of his heartbeat, and spooned him until Eddie felt human again.
That’s romantic, Eddie thinks savagely. Then blinks at himself and wonders what the fuck is going on in his own head. He’s had extensive and aggressive therapy so any surprises left in there shouldn’t be that surprising, and yet. And yet.
He sits there at the counter, drinking the fake wine he brought, and watches his best friend cook dinner for the next ten minutes. Every time Connor or Kameron say something for Eddie to respond to, he takes a drink so his mouth will be full. If this were actual wine, he’d be well on his way to a buzz; as it is, he’s gonna need to piss real soon. It’s still better than the alternative which is Eddie opens his mouth and something assholish comes out. Again.
Currently Kameron is extolling the virtues of their little house with its little yard and how they’re planning on a little garden and when they’re going to decorate their little nursery and-
“Oh, man, animal theme all the way,” Buck says. “Elephant and giraffe wallpaper, so cute. Just like, a mountain of stuffed toys. Here, I’ve been looking through Pinterest-“ and he wipes his hand against his shirt, pulls out his phone, and starts to swipe through it. Connor and Kameron crowd over his shoulder and he actually fucking leans down so they can see easier. Eddie takes another drink.
Dinner itself sucks no less than the prep for it had. The food is good because of course it is, because Buck cooked it and he plates it while saying, “Made with love,” that big cheesy stupid grin on his face, like it makes a difference what kind of emotion the food is made with, only of course it does, of course it makes all the difference, Eddie can taste the love.
The food is good, but the conversation is like this:
“My God, you don’t wanna know how I suffered,” Buck laughs. “Four weeks! Thirty-two days! Something just kept happening. Missing paperwork. Power outages. They double booked. The nurse fainted and we had to call 9-1-1.”
He is talking about, Eddie realizes, the apparently many attempts he made to donate his sperm. It wasn’t just a simple show up to an appointment affair. It was multiple re-schedules, multiple attempts.
Connor and Kameron are laughing because it’s funny now that there’s a baby on the way, as opposed to anxiety-inducing when there wasn’t one and they felt they’d had to show up at the firehouse for answers.
“Meanwhile, I’m, you know, doing all the things you’re supposed to do. No red meat, no junk food, no alcohol, no-“
“Noooooo,” Kameron starts laughing harder. “Oh, no, Buck!”
Connor covers his face, helplessly laughing himself. “You did not have to do that, man.”
Eddie looks from one joyous face to the next. “What?” The sense of being on the outside of an inside joke rises up again. “What am I missing?”
“They, uh, recommend abstinence to keep the swim count high,” Connor explains, chuckling.
“Okay,” Eddie says slowly. He knows people joke a lot about Buck 1.0, but the current Buck 4.0 doesn’t exactly go out and hook up every night or every weekend or even every other weekend. A month isn’t a big deal.
“Including, you know, solo acts,” Kameron giggles. “Buck! Seriously, over a month? I could not.”
“It was getting dire,” Buck admits. “The last couple days there, you don’t wanna know. And then! Then, as I’m driving to the appointment they just barely squeezed me in for, and I’m on a call with Connor - you remember -“ Connor nods, signaling he does in fact remember. Buck says, “Right after you hung up, my jeep dies. It’s got just enough life left in it that I can park it safely and I’m two miles from the clinic and fifteen minutes from missing the window, and let me tell you, I have never run so fast or been so grateful for the years of cardio behind me.”
Eddie’s still stuck on the idea of Buck going over a month without getting off, all in service of being of service, and there’s that squirmy slimy upset gathering in his gut that he’s felt a handful of times before but never so strong as now, sitting with his best friend - his best friend - across from his best friend’s baby parents, listening to them all laugh and enjoy each other like they’re doing something great instead of making possibly one of the biggest mistakes they could.
You’re making a mistake, he thinks as loudly as he can, like he can manifest the thought into their brains. You’re all making a terrible mistake.
Later on, over dessert - homemade ice cream sandwiches - Kameron is earnestly trying to explain to Eddie just how they picked Buck as a potential donor. “I’d never even met him,” she says. “But the way Connor talked about him, the respect Connor had for him, I just thought it felt right.”
“Probably didn’t hurt that he’s tall and gorgeous, though,” Eddie bites out. Then he softens it with a smile. “Good genes, I mean.”
“Everyone in the donor registry has good genes, that’s kind of a pre-requisite,” Connor says. “I was telling Buck, when we talked later on, you can go to an anonymous donor and know all these physical and factual details about them, but you’re not ever gonna know the kind of person they are. It’s impersonal, when having a kid is one of the most personal things you can do. Creating a life together, then raising that life, it’s one of the most important things I’ll ever do, and I didn’t want for there to be any anonymity at any stage of it. I wanted to know the guy, and to trust him, and yeah.” Connor blinks. “I wanted to love him. And I do.” He smiles at Buck, eyes sheened over with grateful tears, and wow, Eddie really cannot stand this. Connor extends a hand over the table top, reaching for Buck, and Buck - who is softly crying himself, what the fuck, is this actually a circle of hell - Buck reaches back.
“That’s great.” Eddie feels his smile crack. He pastes it back together. “Really great. I’m just so. Happy. For all of you.”
He sees it already happening, the warm glow that encloses the three of them. Connor and Kameron, and Buck makes three. Only Buck isn’t actually going to be a parent, here. It’s all happy and welcoming right now. Nine months from now, it’ll be Buck out in the cold, sad, taking stupid risks again and acting like he’s expendable, giving Eddie ulcers, making Eddie drag him out of insane situations he thinks he can survive - or maybe thinks he won’t survive. It’ll all be on Eddie because Eddie’s the best friend, and he’s glad that he’s the one Buck will turn to, but he hates, he hates so much, that it is going to happen. That the pain is going to be there. The pain is coming, and he’s just sitting there bracing for it to land.
And then there’s the moment where Buck, shy, pulls out an LAFD baby onesie and presents it to the expectant couple and oh, actually, this is the worst moment. This is the absolute worst most terrible moment of this entire trainwreck of a night, because this is the moment where Kameron tears up and goes, “Oh, Buck,” and Connor tears up and says, “Oh, buddy,” and Eddie waits for it. For one of them to say it. For one of them to say thank you and we love you, but you can’t be too involved with this kid because this kid is our kid, not yours.
Except that’s not what happens next.
What happens next is Kameron throws her arms around Buck and says, “Thank you, I love it,” and Connor throws his arms around Kameron and Buck and says, “Man, I’m so glad you’re doing this with us,” and Buck puts his arms around both of them, and they actually - the hell of it - they actually kind of look like a family.
That’s when the true worst case scenario rears its ugly head in Eddie’s heart.
What if this is the real future he’s looking at? Buck in some sort of throuple with Connor and Kameron, and Eddie just sitting there, alone. It could happen. Buck is easy to love. Buck is great with babies and toddlers - Jee is proof of that - and Buck is amazing with kids - there’s literally and legally no one Eddie trusts more with Chris. Who wouldn’t snap him up as a third parent? And by all accounts, of which there are many, Buck is good at sex. Like, legendarily so. Well and widely known to be skilled at all things bedroom related. Theoretically bisexual, though in practice mostly heterosexual, but at least bi enough that he could probably make things work with a longtime conventionally attractive friend he was raising a child with.
Eddie stares at them, unblinking, for the entire length of their little group hug.
My God, he thinks. They babytrapped him.
And then he thinks, savage, I babytrapped him first.
He has the legal guardianship paperwork to prove it.
The rest of the night is just a fugue state, but Eddie wakes up the next morning in his own bed with unbruised and unbloodied knuckles so he’s pretty sure he didn’t actually kill anyone with his bare hands, which he’ll take as a win.
Because Buck is Buck, he wants to analyze the dinner when they’re at work. He says things like, “That went well, right? Do you think something bigger might work next time? Bobby and Athena said they’d host a thing. Would that be weird?”
“Yeah, it’d definitely be weird, bud,” Eddie says blankly.
Buck squints at him. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“All I am is jokes, bud,” Eddie says, still blank.
“Sooooo that’s a yes to a big family dinner?”
Eddie would look forward to a colonoscopy more. He fake smiles. “Sounds good, bud.” He’s aware he’s saying ‘bud’ a little too frequently. He doesn’t think he can make himself stop.
And during transit to a call out, Buck tries to hammer down on likely times for everyone. “I really want you guys to meet them! They have pretty open schedules. They both work nine to fives, so like, any night or weekend would be fine.”
Bobby is by the driver’s seat. Hen and Buck are sitting side by side and Chim and Eddie are split across them.
Chim says, “Maddie said she and Kameron had a good lunch date the other day. I mean, your sister was a bit blindsided by all this, but I think she’s more on board now that she knows more about them.”
“Right,” Buck says, grinning so widely, so effusively, so fucking happily. “That’s my whole point! It’s only as weird as we let it be. They’re such great people, they’re gonna make such great parents.”
“I’m sure they will, Buck,” Hen says gently, smiling. “And I think it’s cool that they want to be in your life like this, too.”
“Yeah. I mean, I know it’s donor, not dad, like we talked about-“
And ain’t that a kick in the teeth, Eddie thinks, glaring hotly at Hen for a brief moment. She’d known this was going on, she’d known for months, and she’d had the opportunity to stop it in its tracks, but she hadn’t.
Buck goes on, “But the three of us have been talking, and Connor says that families don’t have to look like they’ve always looked to still work.”
“Very true,” Bobby chimes in. As the second dad in a three dad blended family, he’d know, Eddie guesses.
“And all of us really want it to work,” Buck finishes, and looks to Eddie like he’s checking for Eddie’s approval.
Eddie loves him. He does. He loves Buck so fucking much. Which is why he pretends like he doesn’t see Buck’s glance, pretends like he didn’t listen to the entire conversation of the last ten minutes, pretends like he has no opinion when actually he’s full of them.
Eddie knows a few things to be irrevocably true.
He knows Buck is the best partner he’s ever had and will ever have. That when they’re together working a problem, their success rate rockets exponentially higher than when they’re with others. That he doesn’t trust anyone at his back near as much as he trusts Buck, which is wholeheartedly. That he doesn’t trust anyone at Buck’s back that isn’t him.
He knows Buck is the one his son runs to when he needs an adult.
He knows the the three of them love each other, that they’ve each saved each other, over and over again. He knows that they’re a family.
He knows he can hurt Buck repeatedly and as long as he says he’s sorry, Buck will forgive him. He knows he doesn’t want to do that. He doesn’t want to hurt Buck.
He knows he’s hurting Buck, anyway.
He knows he wants to stop.
He texts, Hey, are you free after shift? Can we talk?
Buck says, “I’m sitting right here?”
They’re up in the firehouse lounge on the sofas across from the pool table.
Eddie texts, I know, but this is easier for me.
Buck texts, I’m free. Or we could talk right now? We still have three hours left.
After shift is good, Eddie texts. I’ll treat you to diner food.
Sounds good, Buck texts. There’s a pause, and Eddie feels Buck’s gaze on him. Buck sends, You doing okay?
Eddie stares at his phone. He’s thinking. Finally, he texts, Not sure. I think it’s going to depend on what happens next. He flicks his eyes upwards and sees Buck staring at him intently.
“I’m here for you, no matter what it is,” Buck says quietly out loud.
Eddie nods. He really does feel speechless, and grateful, and a thousand other things, but mostly… mostly, he feels love. The same kind of love as last year when, falling off the edge of a breakdown, Buck had appeared and stopped the freefall. The same kind of love as just the other morning, finding Buck in his kitchen like it was Buck’s kitchen, too.
It’s still hard, three hours later, off shift and sitting in a diner booth waiting for their respective order of burger (Eddie) and pancakes (Buck). It’s hard to find the words and it’s hard to start saying them. It’s not that it’s scary, but that Eddie just really doesn’t want to screw it up. He needs to be careful. It feels like he’s been screwing up non-stop with this.
Buck waits him out. Eventually, Eddie says, “It’s about your baby.”
“You mean Connor and Kameron’s baby.”
“Yeah, that.” Eddie pauses. “You did all of that without me. You talked to Hen and it wasn’t a spur of the moment type thing. You had to… you really had to struggle to make it happen. It took over a month to make it happen. And you didn’t tell me about any of it until after. And I’m your best friend.”
Buck nods slowly. Their food comes, which gives him a few minutes of grace to reply. Once the server is gone, he says, “I knew what you’d say. You’d tell me not to do it. That I was just hurting myself in a new way and it would be a bad idea and that I could have a family of my own if I just waited for it.”
Eddie swallows around the lump in his throat. Yes, all of that. But also, “And that you have a family, with me and Chris. We’re your family, too.”
Buck smiles, watery. “Yeah. I know.” He swallows. “I knew you could convince me not to do it and I knew you would have my best interest in mind, and I knew I’d listen to you. If you told me you didn’t think I should do it, I wouldn’t do it. But, Eddie, I wanted to do it. The minute they asked me, I wanted to do it so bad. I didn’t really understand why. I had to go to Hen and talk to her about it, because she’s lived it on their side of things, and she gave me really good advice. And I know I’m not ever gonna be that kid’s real dad, not the way Connor is, but I still wanted to do it.”
“Why?”
Buck looks down, then upward, trying to keep the tears from falling. But it doesn’t work. He looks so achingly vulnerable, like his whole heart is bare. Eddie has the sudden best friend intuition that whatever Buck is about to tell him, no one else knows. And probably no one else will ever know. Buck clears his throat. “Did you know, babies remember trauma? There are all these studies on it. Because their brains aren’t fully developed, they store it differently than adults or even kids do, but it’s still there and it still affects how they grow.”
Eddie frowns. “Okay?”
“I was a baby, Eddie. When they - harvested me. They made me, they waited for me to get big enough, and they harvested me. They took something from me. For Daniel. For my brother.”
“Buck.” It’s suddenly incredibly urgent for Eddie to hold Buck’s hand. Buck squeezes his hand back and tries to smile, but it looks horrible on his face.
“I’m not mad about it. It’s the whole reason I exist. And I know it’s not my fault that it didn’t work. But none of it was my choice, either. It wasn’t fate or luck that I was born, it was someone else’s choice. They created a bunch of embryos and screened us to be Daniel’s match, and screened us to be genetically healthy, and I was the one they picked to implant. I asked them about it last year. The other embryos were destroyed after I was born.” Them. The Buckley parents. Eddie feels a loathing so sudden and intense that it startles him. A protective hate that curls up in his guts and makes him feel like he could breathe fire.
Buck says, “No part of my existence was accidental or, or just happened. No part of my existence was for me. Just because someone wanted to have me or love me. I was made for Daniel, and Daniel died.” Buck shakes his head. “I still don’t really understand everything I’m thinking and feeling about this. All I know is, I was a baby, and they hurt me to help him, and my body still remembers it somehow. All my life, I’ve had this pain that I’ve never been able to explain.
“They took something from me. But Connor and Kameron, they asked me to give them something. And I wanted to do it for a lot of reasons. They’re really going to be amazing parents. And they picked me because of who I am - not what I look like, not my genetics, but me. Because Connor knows me and loves,” Buck falters, then goes on, “Loves me. And I know it’s gonna suck to have this kid out there who is biologically mine, but not actually mine. I know that. But I’m prepared for it, too, and I’m okay that it’s going to hurt, because it’s my choice.”
He looks Eddie right in the eye and swallows hard and says, devastatingly, “This time, it’s my choice that it helps some people I care about and that it hurts me, and I can’t tell you why it matters, but it does.” He asks, “Can you understand that? Can you be on my side and support me?”
“I’m always on your side,” Eddie whispers.
Buck does a funny half laugh. “Well, we both know that’s not true.”
“Your side’s my side, when it matters,” Eddie says. “And this matters.”
“Yeah?” Buck gives him a hopeful flutter of eyelashes.
“Yeah.”
“So does that mean you’re gonna be normal about all this finally?”
This time it’s Eddie’s turn to do a funny half laugh. “I have been so fucking normal about this, Buck.”
“You really have not, Eddie.”
They’re still holding hands.
At some point, before the baby is born, Eddie’s gonna kiss Buck.
Before they’ve figured out how exactly the whole parenting dynamic is gonna sit between Buck and Connor and Kameron, before they really know how Eddie is gonna fit in, Eddie’s gonna kiss his best friend. Not because he’s jealous, though he kind of is all the time now, but because he wants to; because there’s been a kiss waiting between the two of them for what feels like years now; because that day Buck’s mouth is extra pink and his eyes are extra blue and Eddie extra wants to kiss his best friend, so he does, they kiss, they do.
Nothing about it is a surprise. It’s all just expected and good. Inevitable, almost. Like puzzle pieces fitting into place. Like the whole picture coming into view.