Archive of Our Own

four hours in

Buck opened his eyes, his vision adjusting slowly in the low light of the bunkroom. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, waking up, and thought he could hear the distant sound of raindrops on the station roof. He checked his watch; he hadn’t been asleep all that long, and they were still only four hours into a 24 hour shift. Strangely, they hadn’t had a single call since they arrived. Buck had wandered off about an hour ago, if only to avoid boredom and chores.

Buck thought about the dream he had while he was napping. It was a weird one: it was about Eddie, which wasn’t weird in and of itself – he dreamt about Eddie all the time. Usually, the dreams were wildly domestic, probably boring to someone else, just quiet dreams that mimicked real life. Buck in Eddie’s kitchen, making dinner; Buck on Eddie’s couch, talking late after a movie had ended; Buck in Eddie’s backyard, planting a new row of seeds in the garden bed he’d started with Chris a few months ago. But unlike real life, these dreams always veered into fantasy. The dinner would end with Eddie pulling Buck in close, waltzing messily as Eddie hummed something quiet. Eddie crossing the distance in the space between them on the couch, slipping his hand into Buck’s and squeezing his fingers. Eddie coming out to give Buck and Christopher a lemonade and then leaning down to put an easy, practiced kiss on Buck’s cheek. Buck felt a familiar ache behind his solar plexus that had been there for months, a lingering pain that had nothing and everything to do with being struck by lightning.

This dream, though, was unusual. He and Eddie had been somewhere playing poker, of all things, in a fancy, smoky kind of lounge. His subconscious hadn’t painted in too many details of their surroundings, much too focused on Eddie sitting next to him. Eddie was wearing a suit that Buck knew (and hoped, because jesus fucking christ) Eddie didn’t own in real life, a soft navy set that was cut perfectly. He was wearing a tight black turtleneck underneath it, looking altogether vastly hotter than sin. Buck couldn’t remember much of anything happening in the dream; he didn’t think he was even playing poker, this apparently a fantasy too far for his brain. Instead, the dream simply consisted of Buck, sitting so close to Eddie that he was practically on his lap, trying and failing not to drool over how badly he wanted to fuck his best friend.

Buck sat up, trying to shake off the lingering wanting weight of the dream. He reached down to pick up his phone where he’d left it on the floor. He thumbed over to his text thread with Maddie.

Hey, are you at work?
Nope, home with Jee. What’s up?

Buck hit the call button, and Maddie picked up immediately.

“Aren’t you at work?” Maddie asked.

Buck chuckled. “Hi Maddie. Yeah. I’m on shift. But we haven’t had a single call.”

“Well, don’t jinx it,” Maddie said, “so you’re calling me because you’re bored?”

“No!” Buck said laughing. “Wait, can I facetime you actually? I want to see Jee.”

“Of course,” Maddie said, switching to video. Her smiling face came into view. Buck felt immediately lighter.

“Hey, baby brother. Okay, here’s Jee.” the camera panned over to his niece, who stared at the screen for a moment before breaking into a smile.

“Bu-Buck!” she said, gleefully. Buck felt briefly like crying.

“Hi Jee! What are you and mom doing today?”

“Coloring. Mommy is here! Oh!” she exclaimed delightedly, turning in the opposite direction and running away in that distinctly adorable way that toddlers ran. Buck heard a distant, “cheep cheep!” Maddie laughed.

“She heard the birds at the feeder out back.”

“I can’t blame her. Birds are pretty cool. Christopher is really into corvids right now – we’ve been trying to befriend a crow for a couple weeks now.”

“That’s adorable,” Maddie said, and she tilted her head slightly to the side. Buck recognized the move as one of his own, and knew there was probably a question incoming, and probably an overly perceptive one at that.

“I noticed,” Maddie continued, “in the hospital, how close you and Chris are. Like, I knew you were, but I don’t know that I’ve ever really seen it in action.”

“Yeah, he’s really important to me,” Buck said, his words an understatement, and felt a knot tighten in his throat.

“I know. It’s just – the way he looks at you, Evan. If I were a stranger seeing you two together, I would assume you’re his dad.”

Buck felt the ache in his chest permeate the rest of him, felt it push out a hot and heavy tear. He looked down, breaking eye contact with his sister.

“I know that, too. And that’s – that’s how I feel about Chris. I feel like he’s mine.” And Buck did – he had felt it for a long time, but only recently allowed himself to truly pick it up and look at it in the light of day. He looked back at Maddie, her eyes glassy. They stared at each other for a beat longer, the sound of Jee-Yun happily calling out to birds in the backyard filtering through.

“Okay, so. Why did you really call me?”

Buck took a deep breath. “I told you, when I got out of the hospital, that I was fine. But I don’t think I am. Not because of the lightning,” he said quickly, when Maddie’s gaze became concerned, “but it made me appreciate some stuff. Stuff I have, like with Christopher. But some stuff I don’t have, too.” Buck sighed, heavy. Christopher had told him recently that he thought Buck used sighs as his main form of communication. He smiled at the memory, despite his mood. “I want to be in love, Maddie.” He paused for a moment, almost scared to go on, like he was speaking aloud a birthday wish, “I want it so badly it hurts, sometimes.”

“Oh, Evan,” Maddie said, looking at him sad and tender, “I know.”

“Sometimes I’m afraid that I’m not meant for that kind of love.”

“Evan, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you were born for love, for that kind of love. You were made because of love, and it was misplaced and you were illused by that love,” she said emphatically, “but it was still love. And I know it’s not the same, but all I’ve ever wanted was for you to know how much I love you.”

“I know you do, Maddie,” Buck said, just as sincere, “I know how much you love me.” Buck could feel his skin pinprick, a ghost of Maddie’s gentle fingertips, pressing her love into him, over years and years on end.

“I wasn’t sure I was made for that kind of love, either. A childhood like ours probably does that to a person.”

Buck let out a watery chuckle. “But you found Chim.”

“But I found Chim. And I know this is something people always say, and that it doesn’t feel true when you don’t have it. But I know that love is out there for you, Buck.”

“I hope so. I want that to be true, so badly.” Buck wondered then – how much of his self-doubt did he leave in his coma dream, and how much would he always carry with him?

“It might not be where you expect to find it,” she said, and there was something almost playful in her tone. Before Buck could question it, they were interrupted by Eddie flinging open the bunkroom door.

“Buck – I knew you weren’t sleeping. You have to come upstairs. Chim’s forced us all into a game of truth or dare and I cannot sit through this without you.”

Buck stared at him for a moment, slightly dumbstruck, before bursting into a loud laugh. Eddie grinned brightly before noticing the phone still pointed at Buck’s face.

“Oh, shit, are you on the phone?”

“Yeah, but it’s just Maddie,” he said, laughing more when Maddie’s small hey! of protest rang out. “Come say hi.”

Eddie obliged, crossing the room and sitting on Buck’s bunk, squishing up into his side to lean into frame. “Hi, Maddie! Sorry to interrupt.”

“No worries, hi! I have to go wrangle this one and get her down for a nap, anyways.” She foisted Jee, who had wandered over to her legs again, onto her hip. “Try to keep my brother out of too many stupid dares.”

“I’m just worried about Lucy, to be honest.”

“Lucy’s here again?” Buck complained, “doesn’t she, like, have another job?”

“You know how she and Ravi are,” Eddie said, “Hen’s been calling them the new Buck and Eddie.”

Buck gasped in mock offense. “In their dreams.” Eddie was still pressed into him, smile warm and wide. Maddie cleared her throat.

“Okay, before you go, truth or dare,” she asked.

“Truth,” Buck said quickly, stupidly.

“Do you think that, perhaps, the thing you were looking for is somewhere you’ve already looked?”

And, damn her. Buck hadn’t let a whisper slip to his sister about his feelings for Eddie. They had never touched the subject at all, not since the early days of gentle teasing about Buck’s crush on his new coworker. He could feel his cheeks heating, could feel Eddie still looking at him.

“Bye, Maddie,” he said, hanging up on her laughing countenance.

“What did that mean?” Eddie asked.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Buck lied. He moved to stand, jostling Eddie off the bunk. “Let’s get up there before Ravi burns down the firehouse.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to use Bobby’s non-stick pan to make us all a quesadilla.”

“Absolutely not,” Bobby said, from somewhere in the kitchen, “I’m your Captain, and you’ll leave me and my pans out of this.”

“Okay,” Hen said, pausing for a moment to think, “I dare you to…I don’t know. Chim, help me out.”

“I dare you to not touch Eddie for the rest of our shift,” Chim said, promptly.

“What? How is that even a dare?” Buck asked, feigning insult. Chim simply leveled him with a meaningful look, his eyes drifting down to Buck’s arm. And, okay, Buck’s entire arm was pressed against Eddie’s. He moved it away pointedly. “Accepted. No problem.” He ignored the cold rush of air against his arm.

“If you can make it the entire shift, I’ll eat my hat,” Ravi muttered from the end of the table.

“Ravi,” Buck said, turning on him, “truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to reassemble a chainsaw correctly.”

“That’s not even a good one, I got that down within a week of you terrorizing me.”

“Fine. I dare you to kiss Lucy.”

A chorus of groans echoed around the table, and Lucy threw a balled-up napkin with startling precision at Buck’s face. Bobby cut in again, “Buck, not again.”

“I thought you weren’t playing, Cap?” Hen asked, mischievous.

“I’m not, but I have to step in to prevent harassment now and then.”

Hen rolled her eyes. “Buck clearly sucks at this, I’m taking his turn.” She ignored his calls of protest, and turned to Eddie. “Eddie, you haven’t gone. Truth or dare.”

“Truth.”

“How many times have you fallen in love?”

The table was quiet, but Eddie didn’t take long to think it over. “Three times.”

“With who?” Lucy asked.

“Nope, not part of the question,” he smiled at Lucy, easy as anything. Buck tried to count quickly in his head, the math not adding up.

“My turn, right?” Eddie asked the group. “Chim. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” Chimney replied.

“Why haven’t you proposed to Maddie yet?” This was met by a series of cheers and clapping, Chim sputtering and turning bright red. Buck turned to Eddie, moving to put an agreeable arm around his shoulder, before remembering the dare to not touch him. His arm dropped awkwardly. Eddie caught his eye, smiling softly, looking like he knew exactly what Buck’s series of movements had meant.

“Okay,” Chim announced, clapping his hands together once, “time for a new game.”

eight hours in

“Thought I might find you here,” Chim said, as he quietly closed the truck door behind him, careful not to give up their hiding spot.

“What can I say,” Buck responded, from his position huddled on the floor of the ladder truck, “me and this truck go way back.”

Chim chuckled. “It’s not even the same truck.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck said, waving his hands, “but it’s like, the ladder truck of Theseus, or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Chim agreed, nodding. They sat side by side, knees tucked under chins, in companionable silence for a few moments. “You know,” Chim said, “I am planning on proposing to your sister.”

“I know,” Buck responded, “I think everyone knows that.”

“Do you think she knows that?”

“Definitely,” Buck said, laughing.

Chimney shot him a genuine smile for a moment, before it started to tick down at the corners. “Maddie, she, uh, she told me. Some stuff about what you saw in your coma.”

“Ah,” Buck said.

“We don’t have to talk about it, or anything,” Chim said quickly, “just, like. If you wanted to, you know, you can tell me about it.”

“It’s funny you say it like that,” Buck said, after a beat. “In the dream, you were the first person I knew I’d be able to talk to.”

“Huh,” Chim said, sounding interested. He waited for Buck to go on.

“Yeah. Once I figured out something was wrong, I tried asking my family and stuff, trying to figure it out, but they all just acted like I was crazy. Then I decided to find you.”

“I feel like I should be somewhat insulted.”

Buck laughed again. “I think I just knew that if anyone, in any universe, was going to believe I was in parallel dimensions or a time loop or whatever, it would be you.”

“Aw, that’s actually kind of sweet, Buckaroo.”

“You were still kind of a dick.”

“In all universes, you still feel like an annoying little brother,” he said, moving to try and tousle Buck’s hair. Buck tried to duck and smack his hand away at the same time.

They stilled again, letting the quiet stretch.

“I used to be jealous of you, you know,” Chim said. He glanced up at Buck, whose mouth was slightly agape. “I mean, you were an idiot,” he went on, ignoring Buck’s wounded gasp, “but you were the young hotshot. You got all the dangerous jobs, you got to do the Maneuver,” Chim laughed, a bit chagrined, “but honestly, I think we just wanted the same things. We were trying to figure it out at the same time.”

“How to not get fired?” Buck asked.

Chim ignored his deflection. “I think we were both trying to figure out our place here, and to make sure it stuck. Not to mention, we were both trying to fall in love. Honestly, I was a little threatened by you.”

Buck looked at his hands. “You were kinda a dick sometimes then, too.”

“I know,” Chim said, “and I gave you a hard time about it when Eddie joined, your whole territorial macho bullshit. But I did the same thing, sometimes, I just left out the heavy dose of homoeroticism.”

“Hey!” Buck said, forgetting to keep his voice down for a moment, a slight surge of panic building.

“Hey,” Chim repeated, more sedately, knocking their feet together briefly, “I know I tease you a lot, both of you, but you didn’t see how Eddie was when you died. Obviously. Since you were dead.”

You died, Buck. The third time hearing it; the words still left him shaking.

“Well, no. So tell me,” Buck asked. He supposed if Chim was already on to him, he might as well ask for what he so desperately wanted to know.

“He was, well – it was a lot like when Shannon died. Actually – that’s not true, really. I’ve never seen him like that, man. He kind of lost it.”

It was strange to hear that thrown at Buck, the echo of his own words to Eddie, when Eddie was the one in the hospital bed. He said nothing before Chim went on.

“We all did, honestly. I just kept thinking – why did I let you go up the ladder? Old me would’ve pushed back, wanted to do the daredevil shit, too.”

“A sign of growth,” Buck joked, before continuing seriously, “but, dude. I’m glad you didn’t. It was my turn to have my heart stopped. You, like, just did that. And, anyways, I need to know you’re here for Maddie and Jee.”

“I need you to be here for my girls, too, Buck,” Chim said, his tone earnest, “we all need you to be here.” Buck wondered how many times he would feel like crying this shift. Not that many more than usual, to be honest. He sucked in a breath, wanting to go back and ask more questions about exactly how Eddie had acted while Buck was in the coma, but the firetruck door opened once again.

“Found you!” Hen stage whispered, crawling in to sit next to Chim. Not a minute later, the door opened again to reveal Ravi and Lucy, who were whispering something conspiratorially as they pushed in and squeezed next to Buck.

“Okay,” Hen said, “I can see why I haven’t played Sardines since I was a kid. We’re all too big to fit into the same hiding places.” They were all jostling around, trying to fit into the space on the cabin floor, elbowing each other and shushing each other like children, until the door opened a last time. Ravi nearly fell out onto Eddie’s feet, the last one to find them.

“Finally!” Buck crowed, letting himself talk at a normal volume, “what took you so long, Eds?”

Eddie looked at Buck, and raised a mug in answer. “I figured I’d make myself another cup of coffee, let everyone else find you. Enjoy some peace and – well, you know.”

“You didn’t even try to find me? Eddie!”

Eddie raised one shoulder, a small smirk on his face. “I knew where you’d go. Didn’t want to spoil the fun.”

“I’m so glad my new coworkers are normal,” Lucy said. Buck elbowed her again.

“Hey, you’re welcome to go back to them anytime,” Buck grumbled.

“Once again, Buck, we like Lucy. Be nice to her,” Chim said.

“She started it!”

“God, I hope we get a call soon,” Hen muttered before announcing, “let me out of here, I’ve had enough quality time with y’all.”

“Henrietta!” Both Chim and Buck said in unison.

“See what I mean?” Lucy said to Ravi, who was trying to look serene standing next to Eddie.

“We been knowing,” Ravi said, nodding. They all got out of the ladder truck, dusting themselves off, splitting in different directions. Chim with Hen, up to the loft. Ravi and Lucy, in directions thankfully unknown. Eddie and Buck, who both stopped to lean against the truck.

“I’m going to facetime with Chris in a minute,” Eddie said, once the others had wandered off, “do you want to join?”

“Does a female ginkgo tree smell like rancid butter?”

“Um,” Eddie said, reasonably.

“Duh, of course I do. Also, just so you know, they actually smell much worse.”

“I guess I should request no gingko trees in the yard, then?”

“You’re a horticultural tyrant.”

“Not the worst you’ve called me.” They smiled at each other for entirely too long. Eddie shrugged a shoulder and tilted his head in a movement that Buck knew was a suggestion.

“Bunkroom?” Buck answered, “I don’t think anyone’s napping.” Eddie nodded, and they went together.

twelve hours in

They were sitting on a bunk again, practically piled on top of each other in order to fit into the camera frame, a mirror of Buck’s earlier call. Belatedly, Buck realized he was already breaking the dare to not touch Eddie, but there was no one around to see them, and Buck could admit that even a couple hours was enough to make him miss the contact. Chris picked up on the first ring.

“Buck!” He yelled.

“Hey buddy!” Buck practically yelled back.

“Hi dad, it’s nice to see you,” Eddie muttered petulantly.

“Hi dad, it’s nice to see you,” Buck and Chris said at the same time before devolving into giggles, Eddie joining in helplessly.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie said once he caught his breath, “tell me about your day,” and Chris did. He told them a bit about school, a lot about what his friends were gossiping about, and then described the dinner Carla had made him. They heard a distant hi boys! in the distance. They both listened, nodding and humming in the right places, both asking questions throughout. They looked like two dads talking to their son, and Buck knew it.

Chris chatted for a few more minutes before asking, “Okay, dad, can I talk to Buck alone now?”

Eddie sighed, put-upon, “Of course you want to talk to your oth – Buck more than me.”

Buck barely suppressed a choke, then took a moment to find his breath. “No offense, Eddie, but we have things to discuss.”

“Sure, sure,” he replied, already scooting away to get off the bunk, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chris. Love you.”

“Love you dad.”

Buck watched Eddie leave the bunk room before turning his smile on Chris. “Okay, what do we need to discuss?”

“I just read the essay about ginkgo trees,” Chris explained; they had been reading a book of essays together, one of their many Buck-and-Chris-only activities, as Eddie had dubbed them.

“Oh!” Buck said, “that one is so good, right? It makes me cry every time.”

“Buck, all of the essays make you cry.”

“That…is true,” Buck said, chuckling, “so, did you go and do some research on ginkgos?”

“Of course,” Chris responded, rolling his eyes. Buck loved him.

“Well? Tell me everything.”

After being fully debriefed on the history of the ginkgo tree (and look, Buck had also fallen down his own research rabbit hole after that essay, but he wasn’t going to not hang on Chris’s every word about them), Buck asked: “Chris, do you want to play a board game with me?”

Chris quirked his head. “Sure. What can we play over the phone?”

“Hang on, I already thought of something.” He got up, still carrying the phone, and headed up to the loft towards their small shelf of board games. He passed Hen on the way, who stuck her head into the frame.

“Oh, hi Chris!”

“Hi, Hen!” Chris chirped.

“Where’s your dad?” she asked, looking around, as if Eddie was somehow magically tied to Buck.

“He’s up here,” Eddie called, his disembodied voice floating down from the loft, “being ignored.”

Hen snorted. “More like being passed over to talk to the only other kid around.”

Buck swatted at her arm before continuing to the stairs. He passed Eddie again on his way to the shelf. “Me and Chris are gonna play a game. Do you want to join?”

“Oh, I’m invited now?”

“‘Course, Eddie,” Buck said, shooting him a small smile, “besides, we’re done discussing.”

“Well, as long as you’re done discussing,” Eddie said, smiling back. Buck reached the shelf and pulled out Scattergories.

“Chris, you do have to be in bed in,” he checked his wristwatch, “thirty minutes.”

“Okay, dad,” Buck said, beating Chris to it. Hen had followed them, sitting down at the kitchen table next to Chim, who was playing solitaire. She elbowed Chim, nodding towards Buck and Eddie.

“I guess this is what they meant about not both being good cops, huh?”

Chim laughed, shaking his head in what Buck thought was exasperation. “I guess so.” They ducked their heads together, talking quietly to each other as Hen moved some of Chim’s cards around. Buck turned his attention back on Chris, who was now propped up against a mug. He and Eddie sat on the floor besides the coffee table, setting up the game.

They gave Chris the first roll, using Eddie as his designated dice-thrower. “Okay…the letter is E! Ready, set, go.” Buck flipped the timer. Buck looked at the first category and laughed.

Reasons to call 9-1-1. He wrote down, “emergency.” He went down the list, filling in “easter egg dyeing” for holiday activities, skipping capital cities, to come back to. He got to number 8 and felt something lodge in his chest: things that make you smile. Before he could talk himself out of it, he simply wrote “Eddie.”

“Pencils down,” Buck said, a minute later. They went down their lists: all three of them had written down “emergency,” canceling each other out; for the holiday question, they each got a point for different-enough (they agreed) answers: Eddie writing “easter egg hunt,” and Chris writing “eating easter chocolate.” Only Chris had managed to think of a capital that started with E: Edinburgh, which earned a low whistle of admiration from Buck. When they got to things that make you smile, Buck’s stomach did a ridiculous little flip.

Before he could answer, Eddie leveled him with a look and said, “Evan.” Buck’s stomach picked up an acrobatic routine.

“I wrote ‘Eddie,’” he admitted, while Chris, ignoring whatever was going on in front of him, simply said, “Eating!”

“So Eddie can call you Evan and you don’t get mad at him, huh?” Chim called from the table. Buck blushed furiously.

“The last category is ‘reasons you might get fired,’” Buck said, and I said, “eavesdropping!’” shouting this last piece at Chim. Chim put up his hands in mock surrender. Buck dared a look back at Eddie, who was still looking at him with something weighted in his gaze. Buck felt the heat roll from his face down and through his body. Eddie blinked, and seemed to come back to himself.

“Chris, I think it’s time to get ready for bed.”

“Fine,” he said, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Buck, will you be at home tomorrow after school?”

Buck barely glanced at Eddie, long since past feeling like he needed to ask permission when it came to Chris. It had been a while since he stopped asking permission to call Eddie’s house home; it had been a while, if he was honest, since he stopped asking permission when it came to Eddie at all.

“Of course I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” Chris said, and there was something sad in his voice that didn’t elude Buck. He stole a quick glance at Eddie, who was frowning slightly.

“You know I’m always going to be there, right?” Buck asked, his voice gentle, “whenever you want me to be.” And he knew it was a promise he couldn’t keep, not really – but there was nothing in him that could stop him trying.

“I know, Buck,” he said, trailing off.

“Buddy, you know when I said that we were going to always try to talk about our feelings?” Eddie asked, “that includes Buck, okay?”

Chris nodded, and went on, “I just always want you to be here.”

“And I wasn’t,” Buck finished, “for a while.” He closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. They hadn’t really talked, him and Chris, since he’d come back from the hospital. From dying, a voice reminded him. “But you know, Chris, I’m always going to fight to come home to you.”

Buck didn’t think twice about the phrasing, knowing he was repeating something Eddie had already told him. He thought about something he’d read, stuck on his couch and trying to ignore visitors while he was recovering. A passage that had rooted in his mind and refused to let go: all love is a process of returning.

Chris sighed heavily; he did take after Buck, sometimes. “I know,” he said, wiping his eye with a quick hand, “I know.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to meet up with your friends at the park tomorrow?” Eddie asked, a master of deflection.

“No, dad!” Eddie and Buck laughed, and a pebble of weight dislodged itself from Buck’s chest.

“Well, just as long as you’re home in time for dinner,” Buck said, “I’m making enchiladas.”

“When did you learn to make enchiladas?” Eddie asked, feigning incredulousness.

Buck shrugged innocently. “Your abuela gave me the recipe.”

Now Eddie’s incredulousness was genuine. “You know she wouldn’t even give that recipe to Shannon, right? Are you blackmailing her?”

“Abuela gave him the recipe last Christmas,” Chris chimed in, “she told me she had to take out all the spice.”

Buck grinned at Chris, before turning back to Eddie who was staring at him with something akin to awe. Buck felt it slip beneath his skin and pull: he wanted so badly to reach for him, to pull him into a hug, but it was more than Chim’s earlier dare that stopped him from touching. He turned back to Christopher.

“Okay, bedtime for real, bud.”

Chris yawned; Eddie chuckled. “Goodnight dad, night Buck, love you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you.”

“Love you!” Hen and Chim called from the kitchen. Chris giggled as they disconnected. The loft fell silent and Buck sat next to Eddie, his own wanting vibrating under his skin. He forced himself to move.

“Gym time!” Buck said brightly as he stood. He could feel Eddie’s gaze on him, as it followed him across the floor, down the stairs, and out of sight.

sixteen hours in

“Hey, Buck.”

Buck crossed the loft towards Hen on soft feet, all too aware of the current silence in the firehouse. Everyone else was downstairs in the bunkroom sleeping; on most shifts sleep was a thing you caught when you could, but on this strange shift of hushed liminality, it just seemed like the thing to do. Up here, Buck could hear the rain pounding.

“Are you playing scrabble alone?” Buck asked.

Hen laughed gently. “It’s actually not that bad to play alone. But come on, sit.”

Buck smiled at her invitation. “I’m just going to make some tea, you want any?”

“Is it caffeinated?”

“No, no caffeine, but it’s ginseng,” Buck answered.

“Ah, no thanks then. Why’re you drinking ginseng tea?”

“Eddie got me some. It’s a mix of ginseng and echinacea,” he explained, “it’s nice. Flowery.” He glanced up to meet Hen’s eyes. She looked like she knew something no one else did, which was to say, like she usually did.

“Did he tell you why he got that one specifically?” Hen asked, brow arched.

Buck shook his head. “No, I mean, not really,” he raised the jar of loose leaves slightly and shook it, “but I looked up ginseng, and apparently it’s good for energy. He probably noticed how tired I’ve been lately.” Buck, done preparing his cup, sat down next to Hen and watched her place her scrabble tiles.

“O, one,” she started, counting up her points, “B, V, I, O, U, S, is 12, plus a double word score.”

“And you get an extra 50 points for using all seven tiles,” Buck recited.

“You do?” Hen said, “I don’t think I knew that. Okay, 74 points.”

“Damn, I couldn’t keep up even if I wanted to.”

“Like you ever do?”

“Ouch!” Buck said, laughing, “let me get situated.” He grabbed some tiles and a rack and considered. There was an easy option that immediately stuck out. He placed his tiles down.

“Couch?” Hen said, reading as he played. “I know it’s late, but that’s a little low-scoring, even for you.”

Buck shrugged, “I know. It’s just been on my mind lately.”

“Couches?” Hen asked, bemused. Buck laughed.

“It’s stupid,” he explained, “Chris – well, Eddie, really – said something to me a few months ago about me still not having a couch. And it just really got stuck in my head.” Hen watched him, clearly waiting for him to go on. “It started with the interim captain thing – Chris said I couldn’t be captain because I didn’t even have a couch.”

Hen snorted, “What does that even mean?”

“That kid is always roasting me,” Buck said, “but I got what he meant. Like, I don’t have a couch because Taylor moved out. And the one before it, Ali left. And I could have replaced it myself, but I just…didn’t.”

“I thought I saw one when I was over last time, though,” Hen said, “so you did finally pick one out?”

Buck shook his head. “My mom bought it for me. She was right, it was ridiculous that I haven’t had one this long. But honestly, it just hasn’t come up, really. The only time I would really need one is for when Eddie and Chris come over to play a game or watch a movie. But we just end up doing that all at Eddie’s, instead.”

Hen took a minute, digesting this. “So, now that you do have a couch, does it feel like you’re more…settled?”

“That’s the thing, Hen,” Buck answered, “the couch my mom got is really uncomfortable.”

“Talk about an extended metaphor,” Hen laughed.

Buck smiled, a little weakly. “Before she bought me the couch,” he admitted, “I just moved my armchair over to where the couch goes. I thought that would make, like, narrative sense.”

“Ah,” Hen said, nodding, looking as though something had just clicked into place. “And, I have to ask, how do you feel about Eddie’s couch?”

Buck let out a loud exhale, coming to terms with the fact that apparently everyone on the planet knew he was in love with his best friend. Hen took the opportunity to play SCHVITZ, propelling Buck into an almost certain defeat.

“I love Eddie’s couch,” Buck said, eventually, “I think you knew that.”

“I think I did. And I also think that Eddie likes having you on it.”

Buck braced himself before he continued, feeling more than ever that he was spilling out a love confession. “When I was recovering, and Maddie had all of you guys coming over to check on me, all I wanted to do was rest. I ended up going to Eddie’s, and I fell asleep on his couch almost immediately.”

“Sometimes the universe is not subtle,” Hen said, a smile pulling up at the corner of her lips. “So, what’s the problem, Buck? You want to be at Eddie’s, he clearly wants you there, too.”

Buck thought about the dreams he had about Eddie. He had been telling himself sternly for years now that the domestic, deeply romantic dreams he had about Eddie were just a way for his brain to displace what he so desperately wanted onto the most logical person: but that explanation itself was damning, and Buck knew it. Eddie was the most logical person because Eddie made sense. Buck had left the space open for a couch because he knew, deep down, that there was only one couch that he wanted to fall asleep on at the end of every night.

“Hen, the thing is, I know that he does. But it feels like I’m – breaking the rules, somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, the last two couches came with girlfriends, right? Isn’t this just letting someone else bring in another couch? Aren’t I supposed to go and pick it out myself, the right one, for me?”

Hen looked at Buck with such profound warmth that Buck felt knocked sideways by it. “I hear you, and that makes so much sense, Buck. Of course it’s important to pick out the right one.”

“And the armchair made sense, at first,” Buck went on, “but it wasn’t that long until I realized that I did want to have a place for other people to sit.”

“Because your life is full of people who want to be around you,” Hen agreed, “and the whole couch thing is about choosing who you want to be there, right?” Buck nodded. “So it’s not really about having to go out and pick your own couch that’s just for you, not really. It’s just about the choice.”

Buck considered this for a moment. “Ali brought the couch. Taylor replaced mine with hers…Eddie picked out his own couch. But I can decide to pick it, too.”

“Exactly,” Hen said, and she covered Buck’s hand with her own. “It doesn’t mean that you didn’t figure out how to be happy with yourself. It just means that you figured out where your home was and decided to choose it, and keep choosing it.”

And that was it, wasn’t it?

Buck flipped his hand over where it was still under Hen’s, and squeezed it before pulling back. “I think I might actually be able to get some sleep. I’m clearly not coming back from this defeat, anyway,” he said, gesturing to the scrabble board.

“Okay,” said Hen, “before you go, though. A common side-effect of being struck by lightning is the development of chronic fatigue.” Buck paused abruptly while he stood, confused. “There’s been a good amount of research suggesting that the combination of ginseng and echinacea helps and even prevents that from happening.”

Buck felt like he needed to sit down again.

“He’s choosing you too, Buck.”

Buck’s breath stuttered; he suddenly felt like if he went down to the bunkroom, was anywhere near Eddie, he wouldn’t be able to even close his eyes.

“Not to beat a metaphor to death, but is it weird if I kinda want to sleep on the couch up here?” Buck asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Not weird,” she said, warmly, “after all, the 118 has been choosing you for just as long.”

Buck walked over to the couch and stretched out, quickly and finally falling asleep.

twenty hours in

Buck woke at some indeterminate time later, though it was still clearly the middle of the night. The firehouse was dark and silent, and it sounded like the rain had finally let up. Buck had dreamed again, but this time it was simple: just a long-feeling dream of an expanse of calm water. He thought that he had been floating in it, warm and content, the sun stretching out along a bright blue horizon. He propped himself up on his elbow and peaked over the back of the couch, only to spot Bobby sitting quietly at the kitchen table looking over what he assumed was paperwork.

“Hey, Cap,” Buck said, quietly. Bobby looked up.

“Hey, kid. Get some sleep?”

“Yeah. What time is it?”

Bobby checked his watch. “Just after 4.”

“Still no calls, huh? Must be a record.”

“Must be.” He started shuffling the papers into a small pile, and gestured to a mug sitting beside him. “Want a hot cocoa? Or are you going to try to get some more shut eye?”

Buck sat up fully, still cozy in the embrace of the couch. “No, cocoa sounds good. Do we have oat milk?”

“Of course.” Bobby pushed his chair back quietly and moved into the kitchen. Buck let his mind wander as he watched Bobby move deftly around the kitchen.

“It’s kind of hard to catch sleep when there’s no calls,” Buck commented as Bobby set a mug in front of Buck before settling into the armchair next to him, “the longer the bell doesn’t go, the more I keep waiting for it to ring.”

Bobby hummed as he sipped from his mug. “I was feeling the same way. But there’s always paperwork.”

They sat in silence, letting it stretch. Buck could feel the edges of a question pulling at the corner of his tongue.

“Do you remember what you told me, when I was trying for interim captain last fall?” Buck eventually asked.

“I do,” Bobby said, nodding, “when you asked me if it was because you didn’t have a couch?” He still looked as confused about that as he had when Buck first asked.

“Yeah,” Buck said, chuckling softly, “and you told me about that thing you learn in AA, about being at ease.”

“I told you that you have to look at your life, look at it clearly, and be at perfect peace and ease,” Bobby said, a repetition of his earlier words.

“You also told me that when I was at ease, I’d know it,” Buck said, feeling his brow furrow, “so I guess I’m still not. I just thought, after the coma and everything. I do feel different, but,” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

Bobby studied him for a moment across the space. “Are you sure you’re not?”

Buck looked at him in question, “I thought you said I’d know.”

“Maybe,” Bobby said, “but maybe, when you’re looking so hard at the question, you don’t always realize you’ve lived your way into the answer.” He paused there, seeming to consider his next words. “I can say, Buck, that you seem a hell of a lot more at ease than when you first asked me that question.”

Buck thought then, again, not only of falling asleep on Eddie’s couch, but of the conversation they had in the kitchen afterwards, the way he felt sitting at Eddie’s table, feeling comfortable enough to ask the questions that had terrified him for years. He thought of the way he had changed his clothes before he came over, how he had slipped on a gray sweater that was soft and casual and felt like everything Eddie’s house had come to represent.

“I guess I do feel more at ease. Maybe that’s why I’m still confused – like I would have had a big moment when I realized it.”

“That’s the thing about epiphanies. Sometimes they do happen all at once, but most of the time they’re quiet, long things. Sometimes it’s a realization in a coma-dream, but sometimes it’s realizing that you’ve been slowing down for a long time, and you’ve already stopped where you’re supposed to be.”

Buck thought about this, quiet for a long while. Bobby let it stretch before saying, “hey, let’s play something. But I get to pick it out.” He went over to the board game shelf, returning with a rather beat-up box of Life.

“That’s a little on the nose,” Buck muttered.

Bobby grinned. “I like the classics.”

They set up the board, lining up two little plastic cars at the start line. After taking a few turns each, Buck spoke up.

“I thought for so long that this,” he said, waving to the board, “was what I was working towards. Getting married, having kids, having a home. But it’s like I keep getting sent back to the starting line.”

“Life isn’t straightforward,” Bobby agreed, spinning the wheel.

“But, I keep thinking about having those things. And I, just – is that really all there is?”

“What else ought there be?” Bobby asked mildly. Buck didn’t answer. “From where I’m sitting,” Bobby went on, “and I’m pretty sure you’d agree – you have a lot in your life that makes it meaningful.”

“I do,” Buck said, emphatically, “I think it just doesn’t look like I thought it would.”

“Ah, well, there’s another important part of that idea from AA,” Bobby said, “which is that you have to be honest with yourself, honest about your life. Not just your shortcomings, but what you want, too. Oh, there you go – you get to get married now.”

Buck had reached the spot on the board where you ‘get married,’ and add in another little plastic person to your car. Buck reached into grab one, and at the last moment picked up a blue figurine. He thought he could see Bobby smile out of the corner of his eye.

He nestled the piece into his car and said, “I still don’t have this, though. And I do think I want it.”

“Well,” Bobby said, his hands gesturing over the game, “that doesn’t mean you aren’t on the path towards it. Sometimes the only missing piece is time.” At that moment, the first fingers of dawn light pierced through the bay’s windows, like Bobby’s was the voice of god. To Buck, that didn’t really sound too far off.

They kept playing, reaching all of the classic milestones. Buck bought a farmhouse, Bobby a Dutch colonial. Every time Buck had the option of getting another kid, he piled another one into his car until they were sitting on top of each other. Buck could hear the sounds of the firehouse stirring, almost to the end of their magic shift. Bobby and Buck neared the end of their game as their coworkers began to trickle into the loft, the smell of coffee soon following. Before long, Eddie was settling himself next to Buck on the couch, leaning into Buck and looking over the game. He passed a mug of coffee to Buck without comment.

Buck took a sip and sighed happily. “Thanks. It’s perfect,” Buck said, honestly.

Eddie just smiled, a little crookedly, at him. He pushed into Buck’s shoulder, glancing back toward the game.

“I don’t think that’s legal,” he said, pointing towards Buck’s car, overflowing with tiny plastic children, “definitely a safety hazard.”

Buck laughed. “What can I say? I can’t say no to a kid.”

“You’ll just have to get a bigger car, then.”

Eddie watched as Buck and Bobby finished up their game, occasionally giving Buck (terrible) advice. Predictably, Bobby won the game.

“Retire in style,” Bobby said happily, moving his car into the ‘millionaire’s acres’ square.

“Well-deserved,” Buck said, “so that means…I get to retire to the country and become a philosopher.”

“Now that doesn’t sound too bad,” Eddie said, a finger tapping on Buck’s thigh, “you need all that space for your ten children.”

Buck laughed, “it doesn’t sound too bad at all.”

As Bobby started collecting up the pieces and putting it all away, Eddie turned minutely to better face Buck, and dropped his voice.

“Hey, did you get any sleep?” he asked softly.

“A little,” Buck said, “not much.”

“What’s on your mind?” Eddie asked, and he looked a little too long at the game still being cleared on the table before looking back at Buck.

“I know, it’s a little on the nose,” Buck replied, instantly following Eddie’s train of thought, “I said that, too.”

Eddie’s mouth quirked in a smile. “You’re coming back to my place, right? We can nap before getting Chris.”

Buck sighed, happily, and very bravely put his head down on Eddie’s shoulder. “That sounds perfect.”

Buck could feel Eddie’s shoulder soften at the touch, making room for his head. A second later, Eddie slowly started leaning back into the couch; he placed a gentle hand on the side of Buck’s head, guiding him back, so he wouldn’t be dislodged. Buck closed his eyes, and relaxed. They sat like that for the last hour of their shift, and although Buck didn’t fall asleep again, he kept his eyes closed. He listened distantly to the chatter of their coworkers as they ate breakfast, as they came to sit around them, as they talked to Eddie. Buck felt it all like a warm river moving around him, secure in his place on this shore.

When Buck opened his eyes again, the loft was lit with golden pools of morning light, and Eddie was talking to him softly.

“Ready to go? Shift’s over.”

Buck nodded, and yawned widely, his jaw popping. Eddie winced, but Buck couldn’t help notice how fond his gaze was, still. They got up, Eddie’s hand on his elbow to help steady him, and headed towards the locker room. At the top of the stairs, Bobby stopped them.

“Here, Buck,” he said, passing him a slim manila folder.

“What’s this?” Buck asked.

“Just some old paperwork I found,” Bobby said, “it’s not anything serious, just look at it after you’ve gotten home. Maybe after some sleep,” he said, glancing at the way that Buck was still leaning into Eddie’s side.

“Will do, Cap,” Buck said, giving Bobby a sleepy salute. Both Bobby and Eddie snorted.

“Let’s go, cowboy,” Eddie said, and led Buck down the stairs.

twenty-four hours + one minute in

The sun was bright as they exited the station, the damp asphalt from the night’s rain starting to sizzle and steam in the morning warmth. Eddie and Buck walked side by side, towards their cars that were, unsurprisingly, parked next to each other. Buck reached his Jeep and was about to confirm that he would follow Eddie home when Eddie reached out and stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Buck turned to face him.

“What’s up?” he asked. Eddie took a deep breath.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Eddie said, looking sheepish and like everything Buck had ever wanted. “I have a crush on you.”

Buck felt like a bell that had been lifted and struck. Buck stared at his best friend for a moment, and Eddie just waited; his face would look calm to anyone else, but Buck could see the faint tension at the edge of his lips.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Buck, I do,” Eddie said, and he was smiling, his eyes crinkling in the corners like they did when he was happy. Like they did when he looked at Buck.

“And – I guess – why are you telling me?” Buck stumbled; he was still ringing.

Eddie was still smiling, so fondly, and looked like he knew exactly what Buck was trying to ask. “I just thought you should know. That no matter what, there’s someone in the world who’s in love with you.”

“Eddie,” Buck choked out, “what the fuck.”

Eddie laughed, still a little nervous.

“And do you want me to like, say it back?”

“Sure,” Eddie said, “I want. But that’s not why I’m telling you. I just – have this love, and I feel like I was meant to give it to you. It’s yours, regardless of how you feel.”

He thought then, of the ginkgo trees he and Chris had been talking about. He thought about how they were so well known as city trees, how they were oft used as metaphors for tenacity. And he wanted to be tenacious – was tenacious, he knew – but that wasn’t what made him fall in love with those yellow-leaved trees. It wasn’t what kept him dreaming about his best friend, what sent him, again and again, into the shade of Eddie’s gentle love. Buck knew then, clearly, that in the presence of Eddie’s love, Buck felt like he was in the presence of something wondrous; wondrous in its own right, but all the more so for its being just for him. He felt, in its embrace, very small, and very human, and very alive.

“Did you know, I don’t know how I never realized this, but that when new leaves sprout, they come directly from the branches?”

Eddie looked entirely unfazed by this topic change. “So, this is why Chris has been begging me to take him to the arboretum.”

“Yeah,” Buck said, ducking his head with a small laugh, “it’s from that book I lent him. There’s this essay on ginkgo trees that I’ve probably read a hundred times. There’s this part – about the one ginkgo tree the author is talking about, and how it’s the only one in that forest. It makes me cry every time. That something so old, so meant to go on, just – won’t.”

“You’re not the only ginkgo tree, Buck,” Eddie said, looking at him so, so gently.

“I know that, now. I just don’t think I’d let myself believe it.”

Eddie took a step towards him, just as Buck did the same. He felt everything – the years of loneliness, of self-doubt, of wanting, shedding off him like falling leaves, all of them dropping in the space of one furious afternoon. He took a steadying breath and bridged the distance, reaching out and grasping Eddie’s hand.

“I’ve spent so long wondering what I’m here for,” Buck said quietly, “what my life is for. But I think I get it, now – I’m here to love, to be loved. To - to fucking pay attention. I’m here to be with you, to be with Chris, to just – be.”

“I think it’s my turn to say what the fuck.” Eddie tightened his grip on Buck’s hand, pulled him closer. “Okay. Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” Buck said, and didn’t wait for a question. “I love you.”

Eddie’s spreading smile was warmer than the morning sun, and Buck felt something like a new leaf unfurl inside his chest. He tugged on Eddie’s hand, bringing him as close as he could, and leaned down to meet Eddie’s lips. It was soft, slow, as sweet as anything, and Buck could feel the wanting that he had kept so tightly packed within him push out, pouring from every place of contact. He pressed it into Eddie’s lips, again and again, and Buck didn’t think he’d ever let himself been kissed with such kindness.

Buck walked them both back a few steps, unwilling to break the kiss, until Eddie was pressed back against the car, Buck’s hand behind Eddie’s head, the other gripping his waist. The movement dislodged something, and Buck heard it falling to the ground, but he couldn’t be bothered with anything that wasn’t the man in front of him. The man who was currently opening his mouth, and pulling Buck’s lip into it, over and over again. Buck moved with him, deepening the kiss, feeling his want vibrating, spilling out into small, needy whines that Eddie swallowed.

Buck would have been happy to stay like that all day, draped over Eddie, feeling completely encased in Eddie's presence, but he helplessly let out a another huge yawn, interrupting his plans. Eddie laughed, and Buck felt it wash over his face, helplessly returning a smile.

“I hate to ask,” Buck said, his eyes blinking open, “but can you drive?”

“There’s no way I’m letting you drive,” Eddie said, as they broke apart, the distance unwelcome, until Eddie slipped his hand into Buck’s and tangled their fingers together. “Oh,” he said, noticing whatever Buck had dropped, “the paperwork.” He bent down to pick up the folder Bobby had passed Buck, and opened it, looking inside. He let out a surprised bark of laughter.

“What is it?” Buck asked, curious, as he watched Eddie’s cheeks turn a delicious pink.

Eddie glanced up at him from the papers. “It’s an HR form for the disclosure of romantic relationships.”

Buck’s mouth dropped open. “I thought Bobby said it was old paperwork?”

“I guess I’m not the only one who’s been waiting for this to happen,” Eddie said, calmly shrugging a shoulder, like that one sentence hadn’t knocked Buck over and set him upright on an entirely new axis.

Eddie used their tangled hands, leading them to his truck. “Come on,” he said, dropping a kiss to Buck’s temple, “let’s go home.”