Chapter Text

Eddie POV
Eddie is dragged to consciousness gradually, despite the blaring of his phone alarm. He pats his bed clumsily on a half-hearted mission to locate the snooze button. His fingers tap the cold glass, temporarily silencing the alarm. He buries his head underneath the pillows to block out offensive sunlight, and his cheek is met with cool, unmussed sheets. He might as well let sleep drag him back into its sweet abyss. After all, that alarm belonged to another life—another Eddie. Eddie, who was a firefighter, Eddie, who had a life, Eddie, who had a purpose. The sound of that alarm belonged to LA Eddie, who was an entirely different breed of human than El Paso Eddie.

It's only been about a month and a half since he packed up his entire life and moved himself back to Texas. El Paso Eddie doesn't really have alarms, and El Paso Eddie is practically suffocating under the heavy burden of every hometown expectation that seemed to settle back onto his shoulders as if he became Atlas the moment he passed that godforsaken city limit sign. He found himself standing straight, gelling his hair differently, even buttoning up his shirt higher. All the pressure that had eased in his chest from years of being away from Texas seemed to return like a wave and compound tenfold.

So Eddie is drowning on dry land and aimless every moment he isn't existing in the same residence as his son. It's like Eddie was nothing more than a ghost, haunting a town that he had left long ago, and his body's object permanence relied entirely on his son's vicinity to him. If he were still seeing Frank, he'd tell Eddie that was an unhealthy coping method, if he counted it as coping at all. His feelings of lacking worth aren't helped by his abysmal job search. Being turned away from job after job—even the ones he had plenty of experience with—was proving difficult on his psyche. Nowhere was hiring, and Eddie is reaching the end of his funds.

On top of that, things had only very recently begun to get better with Chris, and it was somehow already halfway through January. Eddie's not sure if he'd deep down thought his arrival in Texas would magically put the pieces of his life back together, but the scotch tape he's tried using sure as hell isn’t working. He'd only thought his mental health was in a downward spiral when Chris first left—the months following his son's absence seemed to open a bottomless chasm in his chest. He hadn't realized there was space at what he'd thought was rock bottom for his mental health to tank even more spectacularly upon arrival in the Friendship State.

Eddie really hopes there's truth in the whole 'things get worse before they get better' saying. And Eddie does think things are better than when he first arrived. Chris actually even talks to him sometimes and comes to visit of his own volition, even if he still tends to ignore Eddie a vast majority of that time. The only thing soothing the ever-present hum of panic in his chest is the fact that Chris seems to FaceTime Buck quite consistently. Chris not talking to Eddie was fine; it didn't feel fine, but it was fine as long as he was talking to someone. Eddie was more than happy for that someone to be Buck.

To say his arrival in El Paso hadn't been received exactly as planned was a bit of an understatement. He'd spent the first two weeks of December packing up his entire life. Admittedly, arriving on the tail end of the month, just in time for the holidays, had been completely ill-advised. Buck had gently tried to convince Eddie to warn his family, but Eddie had his heart set on a surprise—a grand reveal. Chris hadn't been happy to see Eddie, not at first at least—it was another decision made without him after all.

He'd been so certain that their vicinity alone would fix everything; he'd never considered even for a moment how he'd cope if it didn't.

Eddie's first week in Texas was spent making Chris's room perfect. And then when it became clear Chris wouldn't be willingly moving in anytime soon, he'd spiraled a bit. When Adriana dropped by during New Years, she'd told him the place felt more like a hotel room than a house. Boxes are still stacked around every room, half unpacked. They feel more like unorganized and overwhelming piles of doom, which feel unbearable to touch or manage. With each passing day, though, eventually, like everything else, they've faded into the background.

When Buck called the day of Christmas, Eddie had forwarded him to voicemail and responded with a text message. He'd felt an extreme amount of guilt doing so, but he hadn't had the heart to tell Buck that he'd spent Christmas and New Year's Eve with no one but his good friend Jose Cuervo and some draft beers. The night was spent memorizing the cracks in the ceiling of the house he'd mortgaged. Buck is also the reason he's avoided unpacking his kitchen like the plague. Those boxes with Buck's scrawl on the side makes Eddie feel too raw; everything inside those cardboard walls reminds him of his best friend. The kitchen back home was never just Eddie's—in fact, it was mostly Buck's, even though Eddie still cooked. This kitchen, though, well, it would never belong to anyone other than Eddie—which just felt wrong.

Eddie has been trying not to spend every free moment stewing on how to fix his relationship with Chris, thinking about Buck. Leaving LA had unveiled a very real truth for Eddie. It sank into his bones with certainty the afternoon he'd spent discussing his options with the realtor and Buck. When Buck went home later that evening, Eddie had come to terms with an inexplicable truth. Buck was always exactly the person he needed—he'd slot himself into Eddie's life almost seamlessly. He was always willing to help out in every area without ever being asked. He was the person Eddie turned to for help, to talk to, to simply exist near when he needed to spend time outside of his own head.

He still can't get over the chain of events—he'd expected the evening to go so differently. After being caught red-handed looking through property in El Paso, without even skipping a beat, Buck dove headfirst into the house hunt. And that, well, that was what caused Eddie to confront the fact, over a glass of cranberry juice, that Buck might be his perfect other half, his ideal partner. Peeling back that feeling between packing boxes of his things prompted Eddie to suspect that his feelings were potentially closer to romantic than they were to platonic. He was equally surprised to realize he wasn’t even scared of that possibility.

And although it deeply depresses him to do so, he loads up the U-Haul and makes a decision to keep his revelation to himself. Really there wasn't a point in saying anything to Buck now. Eddie has to prioritize his son, even if that means his feelings have to fall to the wayside. So that was Eddie's big secret, one he kept between himself and God. It was better for everyone that way, Eddie thinks. Besides, Buck deserves to be happy, and Eddie is certain he's too much of a mess to make anyone happy, if his recent trial and error were anything to go by. It was what it was.

Eddie sighs when his alarm begins to blare a second time. He sits up blearily and silences the device for good. It's still hours before he's supposed to pick up Chris from school. His arrival in El Paso hasn't gone well for numerous reasons.

Chris was initially resistant when Eddie first showed up. But after he'd had some time to adjust, he usually came over for a few hours at least every day—even if that meant they just sat in the same room while Chris played video games. It was normal enough, and just having Chris near was enough to soothe Eddie's soul. He worries that Chris keeps looking at him, though, as if he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. He hates that he's made his son ever second-guess him to this measure at all.

Deep down, Eddie knows they probably need to talk about Kim, to have a candid conversation about that. The only thing stopping Eddie is he isn't sure how to bring up the subject, terrified that trying could tank all the progress the two of them have made the last few weeks—so, Eddie admits he's been delaying the inevitable. But it was still just that, inevitable.

Eddie's first day in Texas still haunts him, sticking around as a bitter memory rearing its head anytime his nervous system decides it's been too long since his last anxious spiral. He'd parked the U-Haul in the driveway before dropping by his parents after giving himself a couple of hours to gain his composure and take a shower.

When his mother opened the door, he almost laughed when her mouth dropped into an 'o' of surprise. His delight quickly faded after telling her he'd moved into a neighborhood only about a mile away. He'd half expected her to light up like a Christmas tree—given that he'd finally acquiesced to her single-minded desire to force Eddie’s return to Texas. The one she harbored since the very day he'd told her he was moving to Los Angeles years before. Instead her face had fallen a fraction, and although she'd immediately schooled her expression into something more neutral, a certain stone-like heaviness rests in his stomach.

The veil of joy he'd been maintaining until then had been snuffed like a candle. Eddie had tried so hard to remain positive, but it becomes so clear that no one other than maybe his father wants him there. Even Pepa and Abuela had seemed to have reservations about his decision to move back, although they were more worried about his happiness in regards to being so far away from the life he'd built himself, which at the time hadn't felt so fucking fragile. When he looks back, he wonders if life in LA was always nothing more than a house of cards.

Eddie rolls to the edge of his bed and hits the 'go' button on his coffee machine. This was a bad habit he allowed himself, due to avoiding the kitchen at all costs. A coffee maker on his bedside table felt a bit like a new low, but other than that, it was just about the only non-functional object he even had in his bedroom. Existing lately feels so much like punishment that he allows himself this one tiny pleasure.

Once he's happily sipping on a mug of black coffee, Eddie checks his messages. There are a few from Buck from the night before and even one or two from this morning, which means Buck was probably on shift. Eddie sighs, letting the phone fall away from his hand, taking another long drag off his too-hot coffee, like it could burn away his guilt. Eddie has actively kept in contact with Bobby, Hen, Karen, and Chimney, but he's admittedly let his friendship with Buck fall to the wayside. It wasn't as if he was actively avoiding Buck or anything; it's just… well. Eddie can't describe the feeling. It was guilt and maybe yearning… Maybe he was using his relationship with Buck as another means to torture himself for his poor decisions this past year. And maybe Eddie was doing just as Father Brian said—denying himself joy.

But if Eddie is perfectly honest with himself, it doesn't feel much like he actually deserves any semblance of happiness. Not with this life in constant shambles around him. Not with his son not exactly back home, not with living in an empty house that he's not confident will ever actually feel like home. Not when he doesn't have a job or even a support system at all here. He deserves the furthest thing from happiness, and he thinks that's what a lifeline to Buck offers him. Hope, happiness, relief.

Distantly, Eddie wonders if Buck has told the others that Eddie is avoiding him. Then again, it's also not like Eddie has been avoiding him altogether. They still FaceTime, and Eddie does text him back. Maybe just not as frequently as he did when he still lived in LA, which shouldn't make sense since Eddie has an endless amount of time between his failing job search, sleeping, and spending nights in dive bars missing his life from before with something akin to desperation. He'd been turned down by three different stations due to funding; he'd applied to mechanics garages, private security firms, stocking shelves in grocery stores, gym attendant, and every job in between. The El Paso job market was simply dead in the water, much like the rest of the US.

The second reason he's been slowly withdrawing from Buck is that he knows how easily his best friend can read him these days—it would be far easier to dodge Buck than keep up a facade. It also hasn't helped that a lot of his mental energy and spare time have gone into arguing with his mother on and off—Helena Diaz has made it clear that Eddie isn't wanted here. But Eddie has made it clear time and time again that he's not going anywhere without his son. Besides, Eddie doesn't have anywhere to go now. Buck had taken over tenancy of his rented unit, and he's not sure he could face his best friend right now anyway if Chris wasn't in tow. Eddie feels like he's failing on every level right about now.

It's also becoming depressingly clear how little Eddie's interests matter to his mother. She doesn't care about him and never has—she just cares about her chance to start over. If things stayed awful between him and Christopher forever, he thinks that might make her perfectly happy, just as long as she got her do-over with a son who wouldn't be a failure like he'd been.

In the grand scheme of things, Eddie's feelings were nothing more to her than spare change. It's getting harder and harder to come to terms with that. His father, on the other hand, had surprisingly offered Eddie an olive branch.

It was, of course, Ramon who'd brought Chris by to check out the new place. His son hadn't said much, but his father had looked at Eddie and sort of smiled, commenting how 'he's just as stubborn as you.' It had soothed that anxious fluttering feeling in his chest. "Just give him time," Ramon had promised. "He'll come around, you did, eventually."

And Eddie guesses his father has a point there. Eddie's relationship with his father had changed drastically after that retirement party. Since then they'd had countless phone calls, and it felt a bit like it mended some chronic wound he hadn't known could ever be healed. The difference is that Eddie has attempted to foster the healing portion of their relationship much sooner—it had given him hope that had since faded.

That dying hope could probably be attributed more to his thankless routine. Every morning he wakes up in this endless cycle of nothing, job interviews, and arguments with his mother. It felt like an especially fucked-up sort of time loop. Maybe this was Hell. He keeps hoping something will break the cycle and yank him bodily out of his dull oblivion sooner rather than later. Hopefully it's before they've got to lock him up in a padded cell, driven mad by the doldrums.

Eddie picks up his phone again and sips his coffee a few more times before setting the empty mug aside so he could message them all back. He even shoots off a single text to Buck. A simple 'morning' was all that it read.

When Buck responds enthusiastically, Eddie's heartstrings tug and pull, and he forces himself to exit the screen before it threatens to scoop out his heart and guts and put them on display to the world. Instead of wallowing in his misery, he settles back into the bedsheets and lets himself doze—he's startled when another alarm sounds off. Now this alarm—this alarm is meant for El Paso Eddie. He gets up and showers, changing with a renewed sense of purpose. He gets dressed and eagerly grabs his key and wallet before heading for his truck. It was time to pick up Chris.

 

BUCK POV

The heady heat of whiskey burns the back of Buck's throat. He fights the urge to grimace or clear his throat, but whatever he's drinking tonight at this shitty dive bar is cheaper and burns brighter than the more expensive liquors he's become more accustomed to with adulthood. He stares into his empty glass, tracking a stray amber droplet of liquor that follows along in the bottom of the glass with the motion of his hand.

The bartender barely even glances up at him for confirmation before pouring him two more fingers of whatever cheap whiskey this bar stocked. Buck contemplates the booze before taking a tentative sip, rather than throwing it back like the last two. He's trying to salvage the first Friday night he's had off in months since he can't remember when. He also can't remember the last time he'd done this—fleeing to a cheap bar to drink alone on a Friday night. This isn't something he does anymore, not for years.

Yet, that is still exactly where he finds himself at 6 PM, an hour and a half after the end of his last 48. He's got the next 70 hours, give or take, ahead of him—stretching out through the weekend. Once upon a time, Buck would have shown up on the Diaz's doorstep with grocery bags, and then together, the three of them would plan out the weekend.

Then after Chris left, Buck took up arguably even more space in Eddie's life—it was like they were two magnets, pulled together. So, with nowhere else to go, he was drinking his feelings tonight a bit like 1 or 2.0 would have done. Of course, Buck had tentatively prodded his friends, hoping desperately that someone might be able to fill the yawning space of three empty days that now held no real purpose.

A heavy emptiness creeps down his throat and nestles in the hollow of Buck's body cavity. Whenever the void rose up to meet him, all he could do was gaze back into the horrible emptiness presented before him. All of his friends have other lives outside of Buck; they all need their own space and time to spend with their family and other friends. Buck doesn't take that personally anymore, the way he would have when he was younger, because he understands. Over the years, the feelings of rejection had eased as he became too wrapped up in other things for any of his days to be deemed pointless or empty.

And whenever his head did get too loud, well, he'd taken to simply showing up at the Diaz's residence and occupying Eddie's couch until the numbness and self-projected rejection melted away. Only a commute to Eddie's now is a longer, less reasonable distance away. His hollowness isn't helped by the fact he's been living under Eddie's roof after taking over the lease. A big empty house devoid of bustling and Eddie and Christopher. Going to the space felt like the furthest thing from a reprieve.

It's the beginning of February now, and Eddie's been gone for nearly two months. Buck had assumed he would get used to the gaping emptiness in his chest. He'd plied Eddie with fake smiles and false laughter in the days leading up to his departure. They only felt that much more plastic with every FaceTime. Buck misses Eddie, and sometimes he thinks that no one has any business missing anybody half as much as he misses his best friend. He misses him with such a ferocity it often exhausts him. Maybe that's why it stings so much the first time he realizes that Eddie is blowing him off.

For the first week, their communication hadn't changed. When Eddie lived in LA, days spent apart usually ended with at least 10 minutes of FaceTime or even just a phone call. He was used to receiving a myriad of texts from Eddie throughout the day—lately their texts have been rather dry. Eddie doesn't dodge all of them, just enough to make Buck feel like he's losing it a bit.

And Buck has admittedly been told he's too clingy more than once in his lifetime. He's worried lately that maybe his entire friendship with Eddie was all one big fraudulent projection.

Reality had t-boned Buck in the middle of an intersection. Maybe all along the light was red when he'd thought it was green. The thought feels like a sword through the chest; it digs and twists, and he wants to scream from the sheer pain of it—only screaming in public isn't socially acceptable, so he suffers in silence instead, with a whiskey in hand.

Buck has always been too much—it was something he'd heard his entire childhood, at home, at school, and eventually in his romantic relationships too. But maybe—he'd convinced himself things with Eddie could be different, or maybe were different. He never seemed to think that Buck was too clingy—too much, too, well, too anything. He's always accepted Buck for exactly how he was without question at face value.

So instead of turning all the lights off and lying on the floor of the former Diaz residence, he's spending his Friday evening spinning out at a bar. But maybe he's already entirely unspooled—burned the tread off the tires. He's dizzy and nauseous, although that might be from the sharp whiskey he's choking down, like he might find Eddie in the bottom of the glass.

The bartender gives him a long look, so Buck opts to switch to beer before the man cuts him off. He nurses his pint and stares at his open phone, begging someone, anyone, to text him with any sort of open invitation. Right now he's feeling just boozed up and reckless enough to revert back to his Buck 1.0 ways.

The bar fills and filters over and over on repeat. There's loud music that drifts through the front door every time a patron enters or leaves along with the sound of laughter and shouts, and if Buck were younger and stupider, he might drift along after it like a dog in search of treats. Instead he closes his tab and wanders out, purposefully walking in the opposite direction of the loud, alluring music.

Buck walks; he isn't sure for how far or how long—but at some point he reaches his neighborhood, and the city feels the closest to quiet it gets. He stumbles through the front doors alone and misses Eddie. He misses their fumbling late nights out on the town. A few months ago, Eddie would have been glued to his side, whispering far too loud for it to be anything resembling quiet.

Buck spends the rest of the weekend in bed, rotting into the mattress. His brain kept drifting to Eddie, wondering what he was up to, if he was still job hunting, or if he was hanging out with Chris or still fighting with his mother. He knows the obsession with Eddie's every move in Texas isn't healthy, but there was little else to do but wonder and stew when his friends are all otherwise preoccupied.

Maybe Buck needs more friends—his friendships are mostly tied to the station after all. Maybe his life isn't well-rounded enough; maybe it was time to dip his toe back into dating—he hates the apps, though. They remind him too much of the version of him addicted to the instant gratification and dopamine rush of hookup culture.

Currently the only thing keeping him any semblance of sane, other than work, is Chris, who has recently started FaceTiming him almost on the daily since a few weeks before Christmas. It was only a few days before Eddie left LA, leaving Buck behind for what seemed like good. After all, Eddie hadn't even looked for temporary housing—he knows firsthand Buck had helped Eddie with the house-hunting process.

Their friendship fading is inevitable, maybe. Buck just hadn't expected it to fade into nonexistence so quickly.

When Monday finally comes, Buck is relieved. Work is currently keeping Buck from falling to pieces. He shows up extra early to help Bobby with food prep. When he appears at the top of the stairs, Bobby gives him a long assessing look that Buck pointedly ignores because he frankly can't bear to dissect the horrible numbness sinking its roots into his heart or to explore the loneliness that feels more and more consuming with each passing day.

Hen and Chimney barely look surprised when they join Bobby and Buck for breakfast for the start of their shift a few hours later.

"Morning," Hen greets. She looks Buck over critically, and he barely manages to bite back an audible sigh. "You look like shit."

“Thanks for that, Henrietta.” Buck replies shortly, shoving her share of the food over the counter.

“Touchy,” Chimney comments a little playfully, swiping his plate before Buck can level a glare at him.

Buck's been feeling a bit like the team is walking on eggshells around him since Eddie left. It's been driving Buck perfectly insane.

Occasionally the way the others have been looking at him almost hurts more than Eddie's very real absence, which occasionally feels so strong it's practically a tangible thing. Like Buck might be able to reach out and touch the Eddie-sized hole in his life. Chimney appears sympathetic, Hen looks pitying, and Bobby appears concerned.

And sure, maybe Buck had warranted those expressions with a very real breakdown over the holidays when he discovered whatever grief or loss he was feeling was actually lovesick heartache. Basically, realizing he was in love with his best friend a few weeks too fucking late sucked. And all three of them had ended up privy to that breakdown.

He'd gotten drunk at the Christmas barbecue, and his messy feelings had come spewing out in a very embarrassing manner. He was talking to Maddie at the time and hadn't realized until it was too late that he hadn't noticed Hen, Chimney, and Bobby's presence in the same room. He'd blubbered loudly and at length while Maddie urgently tried to shut him up.

Besides, it's sort of obvious that all three of them probably knew about his own feelings before he had—sometimes he feels like a passenger in his own life, always the last to know about the big things. It was kind of nice, though, to be able to talk about it so candidly with Hen and even Chimney.

Buck glances at his phone, frowning because Eddie still has yet to respond to his last 8 messages, including one asking him how things were going with Chris. It's like that a lot these days. He should be used to it by now, but his foolish lovesick heart squeezed every second the distance grew between them like a chasm.

He's pulled from his spiral by Hen abruptly laughing. She leans over and stretches out her arm to show her screen to Chimney, who chuckles. "Yeah, he told me yesterday when I called him he might be strong-armed into adopting a kitten. Chris apparently was asking if they could keep it." Buck feels his stomach swoop because he hasn't heard anything about a kitten.

"Are we absolutely certain that Eddie isn't a Disney princess?" Hen jokes. "First the deer, now this."

"Deer?" Bobby asks. And Buck is thankful because he doesn't want to ask, or, well, he can't without alerting the others that maybe not everything was quite business as usual between him and Eddie lately. He couldn't handle their pitying looks when they discovered that Eddie's been avoiding him like the plague.

"Yeah, one day he was out on his porch drinking his morning coffee, and a deer walked right up to him and stole his fucking bagel. It was hilarious—his security camera caught the entire thing." Chimney explains with a laugh, delighted by the memory. "I'll dig the video up for you later."

"What do you think? Is Eddie going to adopt the kitten for Chris?" Hen asks, and Buck freezes, put on the spot by the question.
"Wouldn't surprise me," Buck mumbles reluctantly; he's not sure he can really weigh in on this in any official capacity since he hadn't even known about the existence of a kitten. He didn't even know about the deer story. Lately, when they spoke at all, it always was about everything and somehow also nothing at all.

"Hey, are you okay? You look white as a ghost." Hen comments, standing up and walking over to him, pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. Buck quickly squeezes the phone's power button to make his screen lock. He couldn't bear for her to see the string of unanswered messages; it made him feel so fucking pathetic. Buck is half tempted just to turn the entire thing off—only he couldn't chance missing a call from Chris.

"I'm okay," Buck lies, because what the hell else was there to do? He fights down on very real nausea that's now struggling like hell to crawl up his throat. He stares at his breakfast, appetite out the window. Just so he doesn't worry the others, though, he chokes down what he can and tosses the rest the first chance he's got.

Buck peeks at his phone again, hating himself for the tiny flame of hope in his chest. Maybe it was a glitch; maybe there was some mistake. Maybe Buck's number had gotten messed up somehow in Eddie's phone. He wouldn't ignore Buck so blatantly, right? Maybe, though, he was just waiting for Buck to get the hint—the hint that their friendship was over. Buck quietly frets that Eddie might have picked up on Buck's feelings before he left for El Paso and hadn't known how to confront him. Had Buck ruined everything?

The shift passes slowly, and Buck barely even enjoys being out on calls, too tied up stewing over his unanswered message to focus the way he really should. Before their attempt at bedtime, Buck shoots Eddie another message. "Hope you're doing okay. I miss you."

It felt just as pathetic as it was. Apparently Buck no longer has any ounce of shame. And when that text goes unanswered, well, no one has to know if he squeezes out a few tears under the privacy of his duvet.

Chapter Text

Chris POV

Dad was late.

Of course, his Dad's tardiness wasn't necessarily unusual in and of itself. Chris pulls out his cellphone; his Abuelo had snuck it to him on the way out the door on his way to school that morning. His Grandmother didn't think he needed his cellphone at all, but it was pretty much the only way he could contact Buck or even his father if he wanted.

He's also pretty sure his Dad would be pissed if he found out she was requisitioning his phone on a regular basis. Just to ensure she couldn't get in, Chris had locked it with a complicated password. He loves his Grandmother but he wouldn't put it past her to dig through his private messages, especially those between himself and Dad.

Chris opens his texts, frowning when there's still no message from Dad. It strikes him as strange since usually when Dad was going to be late, he would text or at least call to let Chris know he was running behind or that something had come up. Radio silence was unusual. Even back in LA, Dad had only been late picking him up a handful of times. They could be chalked up to three circumstances: traffic, work, and occasionally Buck, who Chris affectionately knew often struggled with time blindness.

30 minutes past the final parent pick-up time without a single text message sat funny in Chris's stomach. Since moving to El Paso a few months back, Dad was usually early picking him up—he didn't have a job yet, and his earnest desperation for Chris's approval overshadowed everything else. It usually annoys Chris that Dad is trying so hard. It was embarrassing. And for reasons not even Chris understands—he's not quite ready to forgive his father.

In some ways, Chris doesn't even know why he's still angry. It wasn't just the Kim of it all, because sure, Chris had been furious. On the other hand, he feels like he's come to understand his Dad a little more deeply. After fleeing to El Paso, his father had only let him go with his grandparents after he promised to see a therapist. What his Dad didn't know was that about five sessions in, his grandmother had allowed him to quit. The sessions he'd attended, though, had given Chris a lot to think about since.

The past few years are a tangle of emotions he's still not entirely sure how to process. Life hadn't given Chris the easiest hand of cards in life. He's got all this anger that he's never known quite what to do with—his father often ended up on the other end of it. He hates himself a little bit for that. His therapist had pointed out that maybe his father often bore the brunt of his anger because that was a safe space for Chris to lash out and be angry without real consequences. He could get as furious as he liked; he could lash out to his heart's content—try to push his father away, push him to his limit, but at the end of the day—against all odds, he would stay. He would love Chris no matter what and reminded him of that often. And Chris thinks he might hate his dad a little bit for that, because sometimes isolating feels so much easier than letting him in.

Maybe that's something that frustrates Chris to no end… Just how similar to his father he truly is. The Diaz boys, Chris had discovered, are a handful of abandonment issues stacked together in a trench coat. Running when things got hard might be embedded in his genes, even if his therapist had held back an eye roll when he said as much. Chris had known that running from home—leaving with his Grandparents would hurt Dad, and that was exactly why Chris had done it. Chris had confessed during a session that he hated how out of control life often felt; his therapist had told him life would always be a bit like that—he would acclimate and adapt eventually, as was human nature. He would gain his bearings. One thing was certain in life—that nothing was certain.

His Dad had run to the army. His Mom had run to her mother. Chris had run to his grandparents… Chris intentionally hadn't run to Buck, as was his first instinct, because he'd wanted it to hurt like a physical blow—the way he'd felt walking in front of the door and seeing her. Kim. Chris thinks it had less to do with Kim or even his mother, but rather it had shattered that fragile illusion that Chris might ever feel okay, because obviously—his father was still bleeding like an open wound when it came to Mom's death. That was how Chris' heart felt every time he thought about her. Seeing his Dad okay with time and space made Chris believe that maybe he could be okay someday too. After Kim, though, okay felt like an impossibility.

So when Dad hasn't appeared in the next five minutes, his first instinct is anger—it's almost muscle memory at this point. When rationale takes over, the anger is replaced with the dull hum of worry. Chris is getting tenser and tenser watching the minutes tick by that he nearly jumps out of his skin when someone speaks from behind him.

He twists to look at his history teacher, who is standing a few feet away from where he's now sitting on the edge of the curb, crutches lying off to the side. Chris can tell by his impatient air that the sorry teacher stuck with parent pick-up duty is ready to go home.

"Hey, Chris. Is there someone I need to call? Your grandparents?"

"My Dads been picking me up. He should be here." Chris explains. "I'll call him." He pulls out his phone again, fidgeting as the phone rings. It rings and rings and rings until eventually kicking over to voicemail. Chris blinks down at the screen, the feeling of dread growing even stronger.

"Is there someone else we can call?"

Chris wets his lips, turning to scan the empty drive leading up to the school pick up area. "He's never late." Chris insists to his teacher meaningfully. He'd rather just wait on Dad. His grandmother would never let Dad hear the end of it for being late.

The teacher is trying to sound patient, but the way he speaks grinds on Chris's nerves.

"It's 30 minutes past the last pick-up time. We need a plan B, Chris. Why don't you call your grandparents? They live close, right?"

"Dad will be here," Chris insists again, grasping the straps of his backpack, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He fixes his eyes on the sidewalk; it feels like the only safe place to look.

The teacher sighs heavily and gestures to another teacher who was waiting just inside. They step out to keep him company while his history teacher disappears back into the building, probably to acquire his grandparents' phone number from the office.

"He's going to be here," Chris can hear the tremor in his own voice. He hates that the tears are springing to his eyes, uninvited.

The teacher, whom he doesn't know, sends him a sympathetic look; she kneels to squeeze his shoulder tenderly. She agrees, "I'm sure he'll be here in no time."

Chris nods firmly, turning back to survey the road, scanning desperately for Dad's familiar truck. Dad would be here. Anytime now. Dad would come.

Eddie POV

Eddie is running late.

It sets his teeth on edge because he hasn't been late picking Chris up since moving to El Paso. Especially since that was sort of his one job at the moment. Eddie is, to say the least, frustrated with himself.

An idiot in front of him about a mile or two back had slammed on their brakes, and his phone had gone flying out of the passenger seat and was somewhere on the floorboards. That meant he was unable to warn his son that he was going to be a few minutes late, which makes Eddie feel hot and itchy with guilt. All he did lately was fail the people he cared about.

His own self-loathing was a big part of the reason he was running late in the first place. He'd completely lost track of time while sitting at his iPad trying to formulate some sort of excuse or response to Buck. He's spent the better part of the last three weeks dodging his FaceTimes and phone calls. He still opened and read the text messages, but these days it felt like there was so little to say… He's not sure why he's putting so much pressure on himself to say something meaningful anytime he interacts with Buck. But isolating himself from Buck hurts less than leading himself on with a man who certainly didn't return his feelings. Pining over your best friend was a useless waste of energy, especially with the 800-plus miles between LA and El Paso.

But as much as Eddie's certain that the space is good for him—he was equally certain that it was probably wounding Buck. He hates the idea he might be hurting him with the distinct lack of communication. Then again…maybe Buck has moved on with his life. But deep down, Eddie knows his self-isolating is better for the both of them in the long run. Maybe when Eddie got his head out of his ass, they could fix things. If Buck even wanted Eddie in his life by that point. Sure, maybe it would have made more sense for Eddie to simply tell Buck he needed space instead of effectively ghosting him, but Eddie was frankly a hot mess right now; he thinks he's going to give himself a pass, whether he deserved it or not.

And besides, for the time being he could get Buck updates through his son—or the others; they were always happy to give up information on their excitable friend and coworker. Eddie drums his thumbs on the steering wheel impatiently as he reaches the light. He was in the homestretch now, one more traffic light away from the path into the parent pick-up area. He breathes a sigh of relief, glancing at the time; if the next light was in his favor, he might even make it before parent pick-up even ended. He presses gently on the gas when the light flashes from red to green.

Eddie's following exhale of relief is sucked away with a tremendous force. He frowns, disoriented, because the row of green lights paving his way to his son is gone. Eddie's grip tightens almost instinctively on the steering wheel, which seems to disappear under his hands. The world blurs, and his entire body is jolted and jostled again and again. A stray pen smacks him in the face.

Eddie groans, a soft whine escaping from his lips; he gently touches the ceiling of the cab with confusion. His seatbelt is tight and making breathing difficult, and his phone and a handful of other loose objects are just out of reach—he distantly thinks that he should probably shut off his engine; a vehicle running upside down probably wasn't good for it, but he's too dizzy, and his arms feel too heavy. When nausea hits him, darkness sweeps Eddie away.

The next time Eddie opens his eyes, he's confused. He's upside down, and there are about a million pieces of glass everywhere—his ears are ringing. Were those sirens?

"Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?" Eddie thinks he makes some sort of affirmative noise, but it's followed by a helpless, pained whimper. He grits his teeth against the pain. "Sir, this is the El Paso Fire Department. Can you tell me your name? Oh shit, he's crashing; we've got to get him out of there." The words are about a million miles away; he tries to hold on, but Eddie concedes to the darkness once again.

Helena POV

When Helena receives the calls that Eddie has forgotten about his parent pick-up duty, she's barely surprised. Her son was always the irresponsible sort, and since Chris returned to El Paso, she'd barely been willing to let him out of sight. It was amazing they'd survived this long without her to help feed and shuttle Chris where he needed to be at the correct time.

When Helena grabs her keys, Ramon sends her a strange look. "Who was that?" Her husband asks curiously.

She nods in the direction of the car, and he follows her out the front door, locking it securely behind him. "Eddie missed parent pick-up."

"What?" Ramon sounds surprised for some reason; he always seemed to have more misplaced faith in their son than she did. "He missed parent pick-up?"

She nods, climbing into the driver's seat while her husband settles into the passenger seat. Ramon reaches for his phone and taps the screen, causing the device to light up. Helena pretends like she's not gritting her teeth, but she doesn't have to guess to imagine who her husband is texting right now. One thing was certain: now that they finally had Chris in El Paso, she wouldn't be letting him go. Ever. She was determined that Chris belonged with them, even if she had to get the courts involved—Helena is certain that they will rule in her favor. Ramon had gotten angry when she casually suggested the idea. No matter what happened next, though, she is thankful that Eddie finally realized where his true family was—even if she did spend most days wishing he'd disappear back to LA so he couldn't micromanage her parenting style.

Chris needed structure moving forward, and Helena is certain Eddie will never be able to provide that for him. Especially if his most recent escapades in dating were anything to go by. His dangerous job wasn't winning him any favors either. Regardless, the sooner he found a job here and settled in, the better. It would distract him from his insistent need to intervene.

The drive to the school is quiet, and she can sense her husband fidgeting with his phone. He keeps opening the screen and frowning, and Helena barely refrains from huffing out a sigh. Chris was going to be understandably disappointed when they arrived; maybe they should get ice cream to soothe the sting of hurt. Yes, Helena thinks decisively that's exactly what they would do.

"What's taking so long?" Helena gripes at the car in front of her crossly. The traffic was slow, even for what was nearly 5 PM on a Thursday.

Ramon leans forward, squinting his eyes, assessing. "Looks like there was a wreck up ahead." She glances at him out of the corner of her eye; there's something strange about his voice she can't parse.

"Reckless drivers," Helena sniffs dismissively, thankful as they're finally directed down a side road by police officers.

"Looks like someone got t-boned," Ramon says with a grave shake of the head. "Hopefully everyone is okay." Helena glances out the window. Firefighters and paramedics are swarming the scene, and she shakes her head, creeping on ahead with the rest of the bumper-to-bumper traffic. Helena lets out an exaggerated sigh of relief when they finally manage to reach the school. She rolls down her window and apologizes profusely to the teacher, who kindly waves her off.

“Hey, Chris, how was school?” Ramon asks Chris as he climbs into the backseat.

The young boy shrugs indifferently. “It was school.”

“Where are we going?” Ramon asks in confusion once they're back on the road once Helena turns in the direction of town.

"Well, I just thought the three of us could get a treat," Helena explains to her husband with a meaningful look. The rest of the car ride to a local ice cream shop is quiet and a little tense. This definitely wasn't the afternoon she's been envisioning since the school reached out to her. She tamps down on her irritation and glances in the mirror at Chris, who is quietly watching the scenery. Helena frowns when she suddenly notices he's got his phone gripped in his right hand. She's sick of phones.

The three of them file into the store and order. Helena leads them to a seat in the corner, and the silence seems to swallow their group whole. She glances at Chris, who is looking rather pale; he also seems surprisingly uninterested in the ice cream in front of him. Helena feels herself still when she realizes that his eyes are glassy with unshed tears and his mouth is twisted with something that might be fear. She's about to inquire if her grandson is okay when he speaks first.

"Did Dad go back to LA? Did he—"

"Well," Helena begins slowly, because now that Chris brought it up, it wasn't completely out of the question. Nothing had gone her son's way since arriving in Texas. She'd made sure of that. Maybe he had finally given up and admitted that she and Ramon were more fit to be the young boys' parents.

“No, Chris,” Ramon interrupts, sending her a sharp look. Helena bites the inside of her cheek in irritation. “He wouldn’t do that, not without talking to you first. Your father isn’t going anywhere without you, I’m sure of that.”

“Then where is he?” Chris voice cracks when he asks, pushing his uneaten ice cream away. The tears are falling freely now, pouring down his cheeks, and Helena’s chest aches. She hates that her son would ever put the young boy through so much pain, especially when he’s already been through so much at such a young age.

“I’ll let you know as soon as he texts me back.” Ramon promises, which doesn’t seem to settle Chris at all.

Helena huffs in annoyance when her phone goes off; she doesn't recognize the number, so she declines the call. Moments later, the number flashes over her screen again, so she raises her phone to her ear. Her voice might be a little sharp when she answers with, "Hello?"

"Good evening, is this Mrs. Helena Diaz?"

"This is she. Who is this?" The irritation bleeds freely from her tone, earning a pained look from her husband.

"I'm a nurse calling from the El Paso East Emergency Room. You're listed as an emergency contact for your son, Edmundo Diaz?"

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" Helena's tongue feels too heavy in her mouth and anxiety squeezes her stomach for the first time that afternoon.

The nurse's voice goes very gentle, "I'm calling from El Paso East Emergency Room. I was reaching out because your son Edmundo was in an accident earlier this afternoon. He's in emergency surgery. Would you be able to make it to the hospital?"

"We'll be right there," Helena replies. Her voice feels too loud in the tiny ice cream parlor. When she stands, Ramon has to steady her. "Ramon—"

"What's happened?" Ramon asks urgently, searching her face, wild panic just under the surface of his dark brown eyes. "Helena."

“It’s Eddie. He’s in the hospital. We have to go.”

Chris jumps to his feet, already rushing for the car—like he’d known this might happen all along. Ready for action the moment it was asked of him. The click of his crutches seems to echo over the pavement as Helena lags behind her husband, who takes the keys and makes a beeline for the driver's seat. When he’s certain both she and Chris are in the car, he reaches over and squeezes her hand. “He’ll be okay.”

The promise feels hollow.

Chapter Text

Chris POV

The moment that his grandparents pull up in their vehicle in lieu of his father's familiar truck, he knows with deep certainty that something is enormously wrong. He feels it from each strand of hair on his head down to his toenails. It's almost gut instinct. When they pull up, he's got the wild urge to flee, to run from whatever horror awaits him next. Because Chris is pretty sure he's had enough for a full lifetime already, and he's barely a teenager.

His mother died. His father was shot. Twice. He'd seen Buck, who is practically his other parent, lying in a hospital bed on life support. And just a few months ago, Denny, his best friend, had almost died, pinned to a house with a car. There was more too—Chris himself had been caught in a tsunami. Right now, though, all he knows is that he can't bear for something else bad to happen, not now, not when things were finally getting back on track. When he's almost ready to go back to LA, to go back home—with Buck and his friends and the 118, who'd become a family to theirs.

Chris is fucking homesick.

If he ran now, he could avoid looking too closely at that feeling growing like an industrial-strength cleaner in his stomach—one that could eat through his very life as he knew it. It would give him a few more hours of peace—he also knows he's not fast enough to outrun the teachers and his grandparents—and there was no use putting off the inevitable no matter how painful.

He climbs into the car obediently, like a good little grandson would, and fidgets in the backseat, answering their questions on autopilot. He gazes out the window, fear growing tenfold when they don't head straight home. He's on guard the moment they pull up to an ice cream parlor; if Chris is honest, he's terrified that his grandparents have only brought him here to sit him down and deliver the bad news.

There are only two possible truths: either they were bringing him here to let him know that Dad was on a plane back to LA as they spoke, or something very, very bad had happened. Chris is starting to realize not much would actually keep his Dad from him—so the second option feels most likely. Tía Pepa had told him that the only reason Eddie hadn't come sooner was Chris's own request for space. Abuela simply laughed and agreed that Eddie would have moved right along with them if he thought even for a moment that that was what Chris wanted.

But there was more than loyalty to consider here. Dad has made an effort—Chris, on the other hand, hadn't taken the extended olive branches. Guilt eats at his insides; he wishes now that he had. He wouldn't even blame Dad for wanting to leave after how Chris has treated him. He'd blown this entire thing for himself. Was it too late to call Dad and beg him to come back and take Chris with him? Sure, he might have enjoyed parts of his time here in El Paso, but it was never supposed to become permanent. He just wanted to hurt his Dad, and maybe hurt Buck a little too, by extension. He hates looking at that vindictive part of himself; it fills him with shame that he'd ever even wanted to actively hurt two people who loved him so much and without barrier.

As much as Dad leaving would hurt, Chris would still prefer that if it meant that his father is safe and whole and in one piece. But Chris is beginning to realize that the universe is never on his side.

They settle at a table with their ice cream, and he feels near bursting with questions, not to mention fear and adrenaline. When he gets up the nerve to ask, Abuelo firmly assures him that his father hasn't gone anywhere—but that did leave all of them with a single question. If Dad wasn't at the school to pick him up, where the hell was he?

Chris is getting ready to suggest that they should stop by Dad's house on the way to his grandparents; there was a chance that maybe he'd simply slept through his alarms. That was always a possibility, right? Before he gets to voice the suggestion, a phone call arrives for Helena—her phone rings loudly in the too-quiet ice cream parlor. Usually when they're in public, he cringes from the noise, embarrassed. Instead, his eyes are glued to the device; he can barely hear the ringtone over the hum of buzzing in his ears. He's got the urge to hurl his ice cream across the room when she silences the device. He feels ready to throw up when the ringing starts all over again—the buzz in his ears just seems to grow and grow and grow. Chris places his ice cream on the table, still untouched; he holds his breath, straining to hear the tinny voice on the other end when she finally answers. Abuelo's eyes are locked on Helena too, leaning forward like he might overhear the speaker on the other end of the line.

When his grandmother's expression changes, Chris's worst fear is immediately confirmed—the one he couldn't bear to think about—Chris stands up, abandoning his ice cream, rushing toward the car without even asking. He doesn't wait; he just goes.

Somewhere through the static, she says the words 'It's Eddie' in his grandfather's direction. Chris gets a little lightheaded, and his fingers threaten to go numb; the noise of his crutches scraping against the sidewalk is the only thing keeping him grounded as he rushes towards the car. Neither of his grandparents are moving fast enough for his liking. Chris needs to be at the hospital, like now. He's not sure what he'll do when he gets there other than sit and stew, but at least the distance between him and his father would be smaller. Just down the hall was an easier reality for Chris than dying somewhere across town, out of reach, out of sight, alone.

When they do arrive at the hospital, Grandmother drops him and his Abuelo off at the doors of the emergency room. He rushes along behind Ramon, eager to reach the front desk. The nurse checks the system after confirming Abuelo's identity before uttering the words emergency surgery. He's become intimately familiar with the words after spending so much time with firefighters, not to mention more than a few episodes of Grey's Anatomy and Hotshots.

The phrase fills him with such an intense dread, the words threaten to drag him through the floor—he almost loses grip on his crutches, wishing badly they had his wheelchair. His legs don't seem to want to hold him any longer. Once the discussion is over with the receptionist, Abuelo gently urges him toward the waiting area. The two of them settle in, and a short while later, his grandmother appears. She exchanged urgent whispers with Abuelo, and Chris tuned the pair out to the best of his abilities, allowing them to fade into the background with the too-loud Cartoon Network show blaring on an overhead TV and the crying of a baby just a few rows of chairs away.

Chris clasps his hands together and squeezes his eyes shut, sending up a silent prayer, just in case anyone was listening and because he knows that's what you're supposed to do in these situations.

Chris calls upon anyone listening and promises that he's deeply sorry for ever abandoning his father in the first place. All of this feels a bit like his fault. And maybe it was all his fault; after all, his Dad would have never been in Texas if it weren't for him. He wouldn't be haunting the streets of El Paso a bit like a ghost. Because that's what Texas usually turned Dad into—a shell of himself. He was dulled down and different around Grandmother and Abuelo. He prefers LA Dad over Texas Dad. Honestly, he prefers LA everything over El Paso. He should have told Dad that months ago; then maybe they wouldn't be in this mess.

The words still in surgery are thrown out a few hours later, and Chris wants to scream. Wants to cry. Wants it all to be over. He wants—no, needs—his father to be better. If Dad was okay, they would take the first flight out of Texas, straight to LA. Straight home, no more whining or dragging his feet.

More family arrives, and when Chris tries to ask questions, his grandparents shut him down. So Chris is feeling a little more than frustrated with the situation, frustrated that no one will trust him with information regarding his own goddamn father. It's the least they could do—if Buck or even Bobby were here, they would tell him the truth straight up. No funny business.

Even more family arrive, praying with heads bowed and rosaries. His cousins try to poke Chris to play or talk, but he can't do any of that. Not when there was a very real chance his father could die upstairs on an operating table. All Chris can do is thread his fingers together and stare at the floor while fighting nausea.

Chris dearly wishes that the last time he saw Dad, he'd returned the words his father said to him every single time he walked out that door—I love you. And what if his Dad didn't know that? What if his Dad died thinking that Chris resented him, when he was so far removed from the situation Chris wasn't even sure why he was mad any longer? The therapist had suggested it had less to do with anger and more to do with a need for control.

Right now, Chris feels wildly out of control. He's not sure how much time passes; he pulls out his phone to text someone in search of comfort, but his grandmother snatches the device from his hands. "You know the rules. It's past the time you're allowed to have that. I'd hate to have to ground you right now."

"I was just going to text Denny." Chris snaps.

"Helena," Abuelo says, tone long-suffering.

"Let the kid text his friends," Adriana, who had arrived only about 20 minutes ago, says with an eye-roll. "He just wants to talk to someone who isn't us—what are you so afraid of?"

"His family is right here," Helena says calmly. "And as long as Eddie's in the hospital, I'm in charge."

"You're in charge?" Adriana asks, her voice dripping with annoyance. "You're going to pull that card right now? While Eddie is in emergency surgery?"

“Chris is already where he should be, with us.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that? You wonder why Sophia and I never speak to you? This, this is why. You’re constantly pulling shit like this. And you’re always picking on Eddie.”

“Chris, it's past your bedtime. One of us should take you home," Helena announces, ignoring her daughters proclamations.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not until I know he’s okay.” Chris argues.

“Helena,” Adriana says, she's wearing the same exasperated tone his father usually uses when talking about Grandmother. More and more lately, Chris is beginning to understand.

The night blurs, and Chris curls up against Adriana's side. She strokes his hair like his dad or Buck did sometimes when he was younger—Chris doesn't really let them touch his hair anymore; right now he's feeling vulnerable enough to admit to himself that he missed it.

"Sophia will be here tomorrow afternoon. It was the first flight she could find." Adriana explains, but she's not talking to him, so Chris doesn't really pay any attention. He just continues staring blankly at the door that leads to the corridor where the doctors and nurses pop in and out of with news for families. He wonders when it will be their turn.

Grandmother sighs, and Chris feels his jaw twitch in irritation. "She really didn't have to do that. Eddie would have understood. Her job is important."

"Mom!" Adriana exclaims in disbelief.

Chris is sick and tired of listening to his grandma complain, so he sits up. "Can I get a soda?"

"Chris, it's 2 AM. You don't need caffeine or sugar. If you want to sleep, we'll take you home."

"My home is in LA," Chris replies stubbornly. His abuelo surprises him by holding out a five-dollar bill. Adriana trails him to the soda machine on the other side of the waiting room. She takes the leftover change from him and buys herself a soda too.

"How you holding up, kiddo?" She asks him, and it's the first time all night Chris doesn't have the urge to bristle over the fact he was being spoken to.

"I knew when he didn't show up this afternoon that something was wrong." Chris blurts the words like he's in confession. He's been dying to say it all night. To tell someone that he'd known all along. "I think we drove past the wreck—the truck was so…it was destroyed, I didn't even recognize it. We drove right past."

"Oh, Chris." Adriana hugs him so very gently, and all the tears he's been holding in since his grandparents showed up at the school well up and spill down his cheeks. He's not sure why but a part of him feels like he's got to be stronger in front of his grandparents. It's easier to fall apart here, in front of Adriana.

“She tried to let me think he just left me. But I knew—I knew he wouldn't do that. He loves me." Chris hiccups out another sob.

Adriana steps back and gently wipes tears away with her thumbs. He feels so small, and it's a relief to feel like a kid for the first time all day. "Chris, I have done nothing but listen to your dad whine about how much he misses you practically every day for the last 6 months. He would never just up and leave you. He has never loved a single person on this earth more than he loves you, and he never will."

Chris lets out a shaky breath and nods, wiping away more tears before he cracks open his Dr. Pepper. "He's going to be okay, though. He's got…we've got… I need to tell him I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt him."

"Oh, Chris—"

“It wouldn’t be fair of him to die before I can tell him I love him.”

Adriana pulls up a chair next to where he's standing so they're eye level, and she sends him an incredibly serious look that he wants to hide from—shy away from. "No matter what happens during this surgery, I need you to know one thing. Your father knows how much you love him. He knows that everything that's happened has been just as hard on you as it's been on him. That's why he came here, just to be close to you. Of course he knows you love him. Hell, we still love your grandmother a little against our own will most of the time, and your father is a far more gracious man than I am."

Chris laughs for the first time since parent pick-up.

"Do you hear me? No matter what happens, he knows that you love him."

“Yeah,” Chris agrees.

Okay. Chin up then, kid. Eddie—Your dad is tough as nails." Adriana wiggles her eyebrows at him. "Maybe if he's lucky, he'll get superpowers. You know, he used to play superheroes all the time with us when we were little. In case you're wondering, he's always been bossy."

Chris giggles, "He always told me the same thing about you."

Together they return to where his grandparents are still sitting in tense silence. With the night growing later and later, most of the other family members have gone home. When he sits down, though, Pepa, who must be fresh off a flight from LA, settles into the spot beside him, and he's content to press his cheek to her shoulder. He closes his eyes and waits for news.

It's pushing 4 AM when the doctors finally appear. "Family of Edmundo Diaz? Are any of you Ramon or Helena Diaz, or an Evan Buckley?"

It's disconcerting hearing Buck's first name from a total stranger. It feels fragile and washed out in the pale hospital lights—it strikes him then that one of them should tell Buck what had happened. He would want to know—he would want to be here, with them.

"That's us," Ramon says, standing up.

"I was your son's doctor. I'm happy to let you know that Edmundo made it through surgery."

"He prefers Eddie," Chris blurts. Helena shushes him, but the surgeon glances at him and softens.

"Eddie made it through surgery. He was badly injured and suffered some internal damage. For the time being he's been placed in a medically induced coma, which means he'll be in the ICU until we think he's stable enough to be brought out of sedation without too many complications."

Chris is quiet, his breath unsteady as he absorbs the information—his dad was alive, but he was in a coma. He glances over at Pepa uncertainly. There are tears in her eyes, and she places a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"That's what happened to Buck, right?" Chris asks her. "They do it so it's easier for their body to heal, and sometimes they've got a machine to help them breathe."

"That's exactly right," the surgeon agrees with an encouraging smile.

Adriana speaks up, forcing a smile. "His dad is a firefighter. So we're no stranger to serious injuries of this nature, unfortunately."

The doctor continues to talk in big verbiage, and Chris tunes out, trying to wrap his head around the entire day. But when the word visitor is thrown out, Chris perks right up.

"Unfortunately, we only allow one visitor in the ICU at a time—so you'll have to take turns. And we can't let his son into the ICU until normal visiting hours and with a consenting guardian.

Chris turns wide pleading eyes on Pepa and Adriana.

"Why don't I go back and see him? Adriana suggests. "I'll tell you everything when I get back, okay?"

Chris hesitates but finally nods consent. Everyone around him seems to let out a slow breath of relief.

"I'm his mother. I should go back to see him first," Helena argues.

"Look, it's late, and everyone is exhausted," Ramon cuts in. "Adriana can visit first, then you will go, and then I can go, okay?"

"But—"

"Adriana doesn't wait; she just tosses her hair and storms down the hallway after the nurse while Helena tags along—luckily, though, she's stopped by a second nurse who gently tells her that if she doesn't back off, they will call security.

Waiting for Adriana to come back is more difficult than expected. Every inch of Chris is exhausted, and he asks for his phone multiple times, unable to stop thinking about Buck in LA, oblivious to what was happening. Buck should be sitting here along with the rest of them.

He lies in a row of seats while they wait, and Chris settles in like he might try napping even though that's the farthest thing on his mind. He surveys the person on staff that comes up to his grandparents—no one must notice him; despite their lowered voices, they speak openly.

"We noticed that there are two other emergency contacts listed on his forms other than the two of you. Should we go ahead and give them a call? An Evan Buckley and Bobby Nash?"

Chris's stomach clenches again the moment Buck's name is mentioned, another pang of homesickness lancing through his chest.

"We've already contacted everyone who needs to be contacted. Don't worry about reaching out to anyone else," Helena says quickly.

"Helena," his abuelo protests once the staff member has left. "It might be a good idea for us to contact Eddie's friends. Chris could use the extra support, and—"

"No, what we need right now is family. When the time is appropriate, we will contact the rest of them."

Chris wants to eavesdrop more, but the moment Adriana reappears, his grandparents both fall silent. She looks every bit as tired as Chris feels, and for the first time all night, he wants to curl up in his bed and pull the covers over his head so he could pretend that none of this was happening."

"Alright, Chris. I think it's time you got some rest. Adriana, could you—"

"I want to sleep at Dad's," Chris blurts.

"Chris," Grandmother says, trying and failing to keep her voice patient. Another day he might flinch from the tone; today, though, it infuriates him beyond belief. The way she talks down to him, like he doesn't know she's doing it. Chris is always well aware, just too polite to say otherwise. He's exhausted and not in the mood to be polite right now.

He raises his volume a notch, just to make people stare—to make her feel a fraction of his humiliation, just to watch her squirm. "I want to sleep at my Dad's."

"You have a bed at home with us." Helena says, the false patience in her tone fraying further.

"I want to sleep at my Dad's," Chris shouts even louder. Tears are pouring down his cheeks now, and the receptionist is looking at him with big, sad eyes. "I don't want to go anywhere with you."

"Now is not the time for a scene."

"He isn't causing a scene, Helena," Adriana cuts in. "He's a kid, and he's exhausted like all of us are, and he's worried about his dad. I'll take him to Eddie's and then bring him over to yours in the morning." Chris is thankful that her tone leaves no room for argument, so he obediently follows her outside and to freedom from the wretched emergency room.

Buck POV

When Buck jerks awake, the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth and overrides all other senses. When he gasps for air, it enters his lungs raggedly, like they were raw. He coughs, rolling over and fighting the urge to vomit.

Lately, he's been having that dream—or flashback—a lot. He closes his eyes, trying to chase away the images of Eddie dropping to the ground like a sack of potatoes after the surefire noise of a gunshot. Every little detail of that is so vividly painted across the tapestry of his brain; after all, he's relived it a few dozen times since.

So Buck coughs and breathes and gasps; he doesn't even realize he's sobbing until a soft hand is carding through his hair in a soothing motion. Hen, he assumes. It's taken him far too long to realize he's in the bunkroom at the station. A red clock on the wall reads 7 AM. They'd made it through the night without a call—and yet, he's still decided to abruptly wake everyone from their peaceful slumbers.

At some point, years ago, that very dream had eventually faded. And sure, it had taken extensive therapy, not to mention feeling confident with his place in Eddie's life. But now, with too much distance between them—not to mention with Eddie forwarding his calls—the dream had returned with a vengeance. He could no longer roll out of bed and drive to the Diaz residence at a moment's notice—in fact, all he has to do now is walk down the hallway so he can peer into Eddie's empty room.

And maybe it was time to stop sleeping on the goddamn couch, but to Buck, this Diaz time capsule still felt like Eddie's, and Buck isn't sure that without the Diaz boys around, it could ever feel like his. Buck climbs out of his bed, murmuring hushed apologies to everyone. Hen follows him out, and right on her heels is Chimney; their faces are written with concern.

Bobby, who was already in the kitchen, sends the trio a curious look. He takes in Buck's disheveled state, and something changes in his expression. Buck hates how often people look at him like that lately. Like he's fragile or—well… Buck doesn't know what they think; he's not in their fucking head.

The thing about Evan Buckley was that he's got a bit of a thing when it comes to feelings of rejection. When he was in therapy, Dr. Copeland explained it was tied to his neglectful childhood and other instances of abandonment throughout his life. When Buck felt abandoned, he needed to lash out, self-isolate, or act, as someone said, rather crazy.

Hell, a younger, more misguided Buck had sued the department over just that. Buck sees how differently he could have handled that situation with a little space between that event and now. And of course Buck has matured, but that didn't stop him from feeling a little feral whenever he felt abandoned. Instead of lashing out, though, he falls back on a different set of self-destructive habits.

When he isn't at work, he lets himself loose on every club and bar in the area—he dances until there are blisters on his feet and the frenetic feeling of too much energy fades. He thought he was past all this, but he was proving himself very wrong as he fell back into it with a sense of ease. At first he tried making new friends, of course, and he does have the 118—of course he does. But the companionship he'd found in Eddie had always been different. And it was companionship he had never counted on being taken away at the drop of the hat.

When he'd imagined him in LA and Eddie in El Paso, it had never been like this. He'd never been bereft. He'd always imagined thousands of messages and hundreds of FaceTime calls. He'd never expected radio silence. Buck knows it's getting a little pathetic…. And that there was a point where you had to throw in the towel on a friendship once you'd been ghosted. And maybe it was time to do that, to leave first contact up to Eddie—and if Eddie truly cared about him, he'd eventually return one of those messages someday. There was that saying after all—if you love someone, let them go. And Buck guesses, for his own sanity's sake, that it was what he was going to have to do.

Losing the love of his life sucked—but losing his best friend hurt infinitely more. Though, those two truths were so intertwined that Buck no longer knows where one ends and the other begins. So basically everything was awful, and for the time being, Buck has no clue how to banish the dreams from one of the worst days of his life—Eddie dying over and over in some fucked-up loop while Buck watches from a million miles away, from the bottom of the ocean, on the other side of bulletproof glass…

The rest of the day after his early morning nightmare is pretty much normal, and after a while he even manages to forget about the dream.

"Whoops, I just missed a call from Eddie." Hen's tone is one of surprise. Buck feels himself perk up like a fucking dog at the merest mention of Eddie's name. God, he was fucking embarrassing. "Oh, he's leaving a voicemail."

So he feels normal, right up until the very moment they're between calls later that day, and to pass the time, Hen reads the voicemail aloud. "Voice to text. Voice to text. Voice to text. Fuck. Voice to Text. Siri, voice to text. Oh my God. Are you working? Wait, is this a phone call? Siri, hang up and text Dad. Hang up. Text Dad. Dad, if you get a call from the school, I'm on my way. Just running late; I took an afternoon nap and overslept. Don't worry, I'm picking him up. I'll be there very soon. Ow, fuck. This goddamn car door. Siri, don't send him that."

Chimney and Ravi are both wheezing in delight, and even Buck cracks a little bit of a smile—but it mostly just makes Buck ache for Eddie so much he feels like he could split right in half. He misses Eddie so fucking much.

The alarm overhead startles him out of his quickly darkening spiral. He jumps into action, racing for his turnouts. The moment Buck's on the engine, he sneaks a look at his phone, praying for a text from Eddie—coming up unsurprisingly empty-handed.

Maybe if he tried texting Eddie just one more time… No, he couldn't be that pathetic. Buck wasn't pathetic. Okay, maybe he was a little pathetic, but texting Eddie again after nearly 100 unanswered texts is too pathetic for even Buck. He deserves to have his name and picture next to the word pathetic in the fucking dictionary; that shit was earned.

When they get to the scene, it's apparent what happened. A car had blown a tire, which caused it to involuntarily swerve into oncoming traffic. They'd been t-boned and were now hanging precariously on the side of a steep hill with plenty of rocks to be dashed upon at the bottom.

They work quickly and efficiently; he and Ravi harness up—a call like this is almost muscle memory at this point. He's careful not to shift the weight of the vehicle as he pulls out two kids from their car seats while Ravi tries to soothe the parents who were panicking in the front.

Together they decide to move the husband first—the wife would be a more difficult endeavor—only by the time they've managed to get the husband to safety, retrieving the wife is too dangerous of a feat.

Bobby insists they wait for them to secure the vehicle in a different way, but Buck knows there isn't time for that. If they waited even 5 minutes, this woman would die. So he does what he does best—Buck unclips his harness, doing the dangerous, reckless thing in favor of the mature, safe thing.

It's been a moment since he was this reckless, years maybe. And Buck knows he's in for it the moment he and the woman are both on solid ground. Bobby's stare is serious and deadly—Buck wishes he could care more, like he might have only just a few months before. He wishes he could feel anything other than just…numb—or even the thrill of getting her out of the vehicle just under the wire. He hates that it's what he needs to feel alive—the sound of the vehicle crashing into the rocks below while holding on to their victim.

When he gets back to the engine, he checks his phone for a message from Eddie. He hates himself for checking.

Chapter Text

Chris POV

Chris wakes up in an unfamiliar bedroom for the second day in a row—the one his father had prepared for him after he'd moved from LA to El Paso. The room that Chris has avoided at all costs, because lately he's been discovering a simple truth. Although they'd previously lived here—before LA, Texas wasn't home—and it could never be home. He misses the chaos and adventure of his life in California, even if returning here had initially been a temporary reprieve from reality.

Adriana seems surprised to see him awake when Chris enters the kitchen, dressed and ready for the school day ahead. "Hey Chris, I didn't expect you up so early today." Her voice is gentle, each word full of hesitation, like she didn't want to misstep.

Yesterday they'd learned that there wouldn't be any more updates on his dad for a while—not unless Dad woke up on his own or unless they eased him off sedation, which wasn't the plan according to his doctors; apparently he needed more time for his body to heal.

"I have school," Chris explains.

"I thought that maybe we'd skip school. Take a mental health day?" Adriana suggests haltingly.

Chris shakes his head in disagreement, "I need to go. I need—I need things to be normal."

"Chris…"

"Please, I need… I just need to go to school." Chris can't explain it, just that he needs to go through the motions of a normal day, because maybe that way he could pretend things were okay. Maybe just for a little while. He wants to bury himself under mind-numbing homework and assignments. He wants to see his friend-shaped acquaintances that he's made—maybe this was just another form of escape, a form of running. Chris only knows one thing: right now, he needs to go to school to gain some sense of control over his life.

Adriana softens around the edges, finally nodding. "Okay. Only if you're sure, though. And you can change your mind at any time. If that happens, just have the office call me, okay?"

"Yeah," Chris agrees, relieved that she hadn't pushed him one way or another. "I'm sure. I plan to skip chess club though, so please pick me up at 3:30."

"I can definitely make that work." Adriana agrees.

Chris navigates the kitchen, locating his favorite cereal in the cupboard. He grabs milk out of the fridge and settles at the table, where Adriana joins him with a cup of coffee and toast. Once he's done, Chris grabs his bag, and Adriana takes him to school. Once Chris is inside the building, he settles in a spot in the corner and people-watches classmates until the bell rings. He follows the herd of students down the hall to their first classes of the day.

Halfway through the day, Chris is admittedly flagging. Being at school was more taxing than he realized—mostly because some students have taken to staring and whispering. He traverses the halls a bit like a zombie—and although Chris is a pro at using his crutches, he finds himself stumbling. The worst moment is when a teacher stops to hug him.

"He's going to be okay," Chris tells her, voice certain. Because his dad has to be okay. There's no other option at this point. He's got to make it to the other side of this—they'd already been through so much, so a random car crash in the middle of the week 800 miles away from home wasn't how Dad was supposed to go.

Chris loves that Dad is a firefighter—he's also seen just how happy the job and his coworkers make him. Admittedly, Chris always had a bit of a tendency to blame everything that went wrong in their lives on his dad's job… That's why Dad or Buck were often hurt—or Hen, or Bobby, or Chim, or one of the others… It was almost somehow connected to 'the job.' Pain and first responder are practically synonymous in his mind. But this—this was an unfriendly reminder that tragedy and pain could always strike when you least expected, no matter the job or time of day.

Chris tries to hold his head high, but the teacher looks at Chris like she doesn't quite believe him. She pats his shoulder sympathetically, and Chris fights the urge to pull away. There's nothing more to say, though, so Chris returns to navigating the hallway in the direction of his next class. Science. That thankfully meant it was nearly the end of the school day—Chris admittedly hadn't expected school to tax him both so mentally and physically. But…trying to act normal and smile so no one was worried was harder than he remembered.

The acting also has the unfortunate side effect of making him think about Dad—always pretending like he was doing a little better than he really was. Only, Chris never saw how much time and energy Dad put into protecting him from reality until very recently.

The teacher greets the class before doing roll call. He pauses when he realizes that Chris is among the present students, the way all the teachers had been in every single class all day. To the teacher's credit, though, he doesn't bring attention to him the way some of the others had; he simply carries on with their lesson without forcing Chris to unpack his feelings.

"Today," the teacher announces. "I am going to be passing around this ball cap. Each one of you is going to pull out a little slip of paper—on it will be a disease or disorder of some type. Your job is to research it and pull together a PowerPoint; you'll be presenting it to the entire class. This is one of your biggest projects of the year, so keep that in mind."

"I'll be passing out a packet with samples of other PowerPoint’s I've received through the years, along with my expectations of you to get full points. As a reminder, plagiarism or use of AI will result in an immediate F and a trip to the principal's office along with suspension. I'm also only going to say this once—when it comes to drawing your subject, you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."

The phrase makes Chris roll his eyes; he flips through the packet his teacher hands him. About ten minutes later the hat is passed over to him—he almost freezes or drops the damn thing because the baseball cap is blue and emblazoned with a Dodgers emblem. It makes him think about Dad. Dad, who is pale and ghostly and still asleep and too still in his hospital bed.

Chris shakes away the thought, then pulls out a little scrap of paper before passing the hat on. He unfolds his slip and reads the words 'PTSD.' Chris has heard the term thrown around a lot, especially with the nature of his time in the army, not to mention firefighting. Chris himself had been diagnosed with it after he and Buck were caught up in the tsunami. He's already intimately familiar with the outlines of PTSD.

Everything reminds Chris of Dad. He wants to go home.

Buck POV

It's 4 AM, and Buck isn't sleeping. That in itself wasn't all that unusual; after all, Buck has been in a long-term standoff with insomnia. The insomnia nearly always won. He's fully familiar with the side effects that couple with severe lack of sleep.

So it's not…not normal that he's awake right about now—curled up on the couch in the loft rather than downstairs in the bunkroom. Most of his actual sleeping is often done during the day once his body has no other choice than to pass out.

After Eddie left, though, his insomnia had gotten considerably worse. It might have something to do with anxiety, of course. It's been near constant since his best friend fell out of contact. He often blamed himself for it, although he knew that communication was a two-way street. Until Eddie is ready to reach out first, there is nothing that Buck can do but wait.

All Eddie probably needed was time and space. Buck has been alternating between extreme bouts of sadness over it and extreme irritation. He had just never expected Eddie of all people to just drop him the moment he made it to Texas. The rational part of Buck reminds himself that Eddie would only drop contact if he wasn't doing well himself. Then again…he was still in contact with the others, which meant he was making a choice to specifically not speak to Buck.

And these were just a few of the thoughts that kept him up at night. If he'd done something to upset Eddie, he'd rather know up front rather than be ghosted over it. Missing his best friend from afar was bad enough, but pining on top of all that was much worse. So Buck spends fitful night after fitful night struggling to sleep while refusing to answer the 118's gentle prying questions of concern.

Buck is exhausted and feeling especially vulnerable over team lunch the next day—someone had requested Eddie's favorite. It felt wrong that they were making it at all without Eddie there. Without Eddie ever again. He hates himself for missing Eddie, for obsessively thinking about Eddie in every free moment his brain wasn't occupied with something else.

"Hey, question." Buck glances at Hen, who is watching Buck chop onions with a strange expression. Chimney, who was perusing his phone, is drawn to attention by the odd lilt to her tone.

"Possible answer," Buck replies hesitantly, because there's something about the look on her face that makes Buck feel positively nauseous, like she knows something about Buck she wasn't supposed to.

"How is Eddie doing?"

Buck doesn't say 'you would know better than I do' because Eddie doesn't deserve that level of pettiness. And also because Buck is hesitant to admit his shortcomings regarding his relationship with Eddie.

"What?" Buck asks cautiously.

"Sorry… It's just. I haven't heard from him in a few days," Hen comments. "He usually gets back with me pretty quickly. I just thought the radio silence was a bit odd."

"He's been quiet with me lately too," Buck says, which wasn't even a lie. "Probably his mother."

“So you’ve heard from him then?”

“I mean, sometimes.”

“What does that mean?" Hen asks, brows furrowing together suspiciously.

Buck sets his knife down; his heart is in his throat. “I don’t know, Hen. He’s probably just been busy.”

“That didn’t exactly answer my question,” Hen prods in annoyance.

"Well, why are you asking me? I'm not Eddie's fucking keeper." Buck snaps with a scowl.

"Whoa," Hen exclaims, startled. Buck doesn't care if he's coming off a little harsh, though; he's too overwhelmed with grief and anger. He fixes his eyes on the floor so he doesn't have to make eye contact with the others—so they can't see how pathetic and sad he is. He's got to move, to flee, to run. He makes a beeline for the bunkroom, where he could hopefully hide in peace.

Their sleeping quarters are blissfully empty; he allows himself to pace like a caged animal so he has somewhere to put all his pent-up emotions. Once he's managed to calm himself a bit, he escapes to the bathroom and splashes water on his face to wipe away the telltale sign that he'd been crying, but he freezes when he catches sight of Hen waiting for him in the doorway in the reflection of the mirror. He cringes when he spots her assessing expression.

"What's going on, Buck?"

"Nothing's 'going on.' I don't want to talk about it."

"Buck," Hen says, visibly unimpressed with the slight edge of Buck's tone.

"Hen," Buck replies firmly.

"Did you and Eddie have a fight?"

Buck shakes his head and edges around his friend. Hiding was apparently no longer an option, so he returns back to the kitchen and resumes his task of chopping onions.

"Well?" Hen prods again. He sighs, knowing that Hen wouldn't let this thread of questioning go anytime soon. Not until they had solid answers.

"Eddie and I would have to talk for us to fight."

"What happened?" Chimney asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"I—I. I don't know." Buck scoops the rest of the onion into a bowl and angrily chops carrots next.

"One day, he just…stopped answering my texts and answering my calls. It is what it is."

"You've still been hearing from Chris, though?" Chimney inquires, remembering Buck's FaceTime the previous evening.

"Yep," Buck agrees. "Eddie turns off his read receipts. I assume he's still getting my messages—he's just ignoring me."

"Buck," Hen says so very gently it hurts. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Yeah, because that's not pathetic." Buck says with an eye roll, his face feels hot, and honestly, if they keep talking about it, he's going to start crying again. "I don't know what I did to piss off my best friend, so he hasn't talked to me in months."

"Months," Chimney gasps, jaw dropping in surprise.

“I’m sorry, months?” Hen echoes like a broken record.

"One day everything was perfectly fine, and the next…radio silence. Yet he's still texting all of you nearly every damn day." He sets his knife on the counter and takes a steadying breath; the tears are close to falling now, so he steps back from the counter and turns his back on Hen and Chimney, who are both watching him in open concern.

"I didn't know about the kitten or the damn deer—I don't know about anything going on with Eddie right now. Your best bet will be to call him yourself. He doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Well," Hen says very carefully. "I'll let you know if I hear from him, then."

Buck simply nods, because what else was there to do?

Chapter Text

Chris POV

The absolute last place Chris wants to be right now is at his grandparents'. Since the accident, Adriana and Pepa have taken turns staying with him at Dad's place. Nowhere feels like home; he's feeling just as adrift as he's felt since leaving LA. Then, Chris had felt so angry—and now, he feels nothing but numbness. He can't stop imagining his father pale and ghostly on a vent like Buck a few years before. It's damn near unbearable.

He keeps wondering after Buck—whether his grandparents had contacted him as promised. But… he thinks if they had, that he would be here by now. Chris wants to go home—he wishes he wasn't sitting here eating dinner with his grandparents, Adriana, and Sophia. All day when they think he's not paying attention the four have been huddled and whispering, most likely discussing what should happen next.

Distantly, Chris wonders what would happen to him if the worst did happen. Would that be it? Would he ever see Buck or Denny or any of his friends back in LA ever again? Was El Paso a dead end for him? Adriana also lived in Texas, but she couldn't stay here with him forever—and Sophia lived…somewhere else, Chris wasn't exactly sure.

He's been too focused worrying after his father to pay attention to everyone's conversation unless they mentioned Dad directly. He's instead content to bury himself under a mountain of school work and to pretend this wasn't the worst week of his life.

The fact his grandmother has been insisting on keeping his phone from him, hasn't helped. She continues to insist it would only make him feel worse but honestly, there's no one he wants to talk to more than Buck and Denny.

"If you keep poking at your dinner, you're not going to get dessert." His grandmother reprimands, like dessert even mattered. Like anything mattered or would ever matter again if his Dad didn't make it out of this okay.

"Mom," Sophia says, her tone long-suffering.

"I'm not hungry," Chris explains, abandoning his meal in favor of dismissing himself from the dinner table.

"No dessert then," Grandmother scolds.

"I don't want your shitty dessert anyway." His grandmother gasps, Sophia's eyebrows go up, and Adriana openly smirks. His Abuelo politely coughs, which Chris is half certain might be a smothered laugh. "When can I see my Dad?"

Grandmother clears her throat, recovered, "Well, I talked to the hospital staff. They said they can't let kids in the ICU."

"When Buck was on life support, Dad got me back there. I don't think it's fair I can't see him."

"Life isn't always fair," his grandmother says. "And we're not going to pretend you didn't just swear at me. That wasn't polite."

Chris looks over at Adriana, Helena is exhausting him. "Can we go home now?"

"This is your home," Grandmother says, too patiently for Chris to believe it.

"No. My home is at Dad's."

"Chris—" Helena begins.

"I told him I wanted to go back to LA, you know." It's a lie, but Chris doubts his father would refute the claim. The kitchen goes perfectly silent. Chris stares at her, and Grandmother stares back. "I need to start doing research for my science project."

"Just as long as you do it on your school computer," Helena replies stiffly. "You're grounded from your own computer and your video game systems until further notice. That includes your programs you have at Eddie's."

"You're not my mom," Chris sneers, tired of her condescension and arguing.

Adriana sets a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Chris settles a little. She searches his face for a moment before nodding. "I just need to talk to your grandparents for a few minutes, and then we'll go right to your Dad's, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Chris agrees. "Thanks."

Chris flops down on the couch in the living room with a sight and strains to listen to their conversation happening in the dining room. He presses his ear against the wall so he can hear the reverberations of their whispers.

"I think Chris is just feeling a little isolated, Mom. You should cut him some slack. He's already lost his mom, and now his dad is in a coma. Your son—our brother—is in a coma. Maybe give the kid a little extra grace. Can you blame him for getting a little snippy?"

"It's not an excuse."

"He's a kid!" Sophia jumps in, stressing how ridiculous Grandmother was being, and Chris feels a little burst of satisfaction.

"He asked you to reach out to Buck, right? Have you heard back from him?" Adriana inquires, and Chris presses his ear completely flush with the wall, dying for the answer.

"I did, just like he asked," his grandmother replies. "Eddie's friend said he couldn't make it down right now."

"Really…" Adriana asks, sounding a little disbelieving.

Chris scowls, because if he knows one thing—if Buck knew about what had happened—he'd have been in Texas, like yesterday.

"Why don't you help me with these dishes?" Sophia's voice sounds weird, and Chris can't quite understand the intonation of her voice, but Adriana agrees, and Chris rolls his eyes, about to pull his ear away from where it's still glued to the wall when Abuelo speaks.

"I really think we should let Eddie's friends know what's going on. It would be good emotional support for Chris if he were here."

"We're family, Ramon. We should be enough."

Chris slides off the couch and paces through the living room on his crutches, his brain racing a million miles an hour. The theory that his grandmother had taken his phone from him to keep him from having contact with people from back home was looking to have more truth than Chris initially thought. Grandmother and Abuelo had point-blank lied to their own daughters, not to mention him, about contacting Buck and the rest of the 118. Chris isn't sure how he'll ever forgive them. Tears of betrayal sting his eyes.

Chris paces through the living room on his crutches.

Shortly after, Adriana comes in, and together they head to the car. Once they're settled inside, Chris speaks. "Can you text Buck just to make sure Grandmother really told him?" His voice is hopeful and shakes a little.

"I don't have his number," Adriana admits. "Not since he had to change it awhile back."

"Dad would want him here. I need him here." Chris's voice cracks. Because Buck has been there through every awful life event, right at his side, supporting him, holding him—that was, when it wasn't him in the hospital bed.

“Oh, Chris,” Adriana says gently. “I’ll do everything I can to get him here.”

Chris can do nothing but cry.

Buck POV

Buck spent the evening after work at Maddie and Chim's, enjoying quality time with his niece to cheer himself up. It was a much-needed reprieve, especially since Chimney had clearly warned Buck's sister about Eddie's radio silence since she's been plying Buck with wine all evening. The moment it appeared like she might want to talk about something a little deeper than surface level—Buck admittedly fled on the first Uber available. But once he was in the back of the vehicle, returning to Eddie's house felt impossibly painful, so instead he redirected the car.

30 minutes later he's rolling up the bottoms of his jeans and carrying his socks and shoes to the edge of the ocean. He drops them further up where the sand is out of reach of the waves before moving closer to allow the water to lap at his ankles. The night is surprisingly windy, so he burrows into his hoodie; the chill of the ocean is almost stunning against his bare skin.

He slowly sits, then eventually lies back, staring up at the LA sky. The moon is hanging lazily among the smattering of stars. That might be the only thing he misses about Pennsylvania—the stars as far as the eye could see. Out here in LA, there is too much light pollution. Another breeze rustles his curls, and he sighs softly, gently allowing his eyes to flutter shut. He wonders where Eddie is right now—if he was working or home in bed. If he'd ever found a job. He wonders if Chris is fast asleep at his grandparents' or right down the hall, like Eddie would have wanted.

"You okay there, bud?"

Buck pries his eyes open in surprise, peering up at a man who is holding a bucket and a tiny shovel—apparently looking for baby sea turtles.

"All good," Buck lies. The man carries along the shore, letting Buck be. He pulls out his phone, the booze in his system still making him warm and tingly. He dials out and puts the call on speaker; instead of ringing and ringing as expected, the phone kicks straight to voicemail.

"Hey, Eds. I was just…calling again to check up on you. I haven't heard from you in ages, and admittedly I'm a little drunk. After about a million missed messages, it's pretty much the only way I could work up the courage to even…anyways. I just have a few things I want to say. The first…well, it's corny or cheesy, but I really fucking miss you, and I didn't realize how hard moving into your place would be when I offered to lease it from you. Going home at night to no one…it hurts, and all I can think about are the million little memories I've made there with you and Chris."

"The second is…well. I guess I want to apologize. I don't know if it was something I said, or maybe something I did, or even something I didn't do. Maybe I was too clingy. I don't know. I just want to take it all back, whatever it was that broke us. I'm sorry. I miss you, and I miss Chris," Buck feels himself start to cry. "Nothing is the same without you here."

"Finally, I just hope things are going your way. And I—I love you, Eddie. I love you so much that sometimes I think I'm going to split in half, like my chest might cave in, like the world might end. You and Chris are my world, and God, I'm so fucking drunk. What am I even saying right now? I should… I'm sorry, just…ignore my drunk ramblings if you will. Goodnight."

Buck lets the night blur by him after that. The waves creep up higher, soaking his legs up to the calves. The jean material chafes, but he ignores it, instead sitting up and staring out over the waves where the horizon ends in a deep, dark void, swallowed whole by the ocean. That was exactly how his heart felt. The more and more sober he gets, the more and more he regrets his unplanned voicemail. Eventually he staggers back through the sand and finds a bench to sit on. The night continues to drift by.

When the sky is grey and the birds get louder, he stares at his phone, which is only at 5%. A phone call comes through, catching him off guard. "Hello?"

"Buck?" Hen sounds equally surprised.

"Hen?"

"I dropped by with coffee and breakfast; I thought maybe we could talk. Where are you?"

"Um."

"Have you even slept?" Buck's silence is answer enough, and Hen sighs, "Where are you?"

"The pier."

"I'm coming to you," Hen informs him. "Don't go anywhere."

“See you soon.”

Buck startles when Hen honks her horn, scaring away a flock of seagulls that take flight in a frenzy and squawk in their direction as Buck crosses the parking lot, still barefoot.

He slides into the passenger seat, and Hen gives him an once-over, disbelief coloring her expression.

Were you out all night?"

"Easier than going home."

“Buck,” Hen says so gently, concern layering her voice.

“I’m fine, Hen. Just being a bit dramatic.”

When Hen drives, it's back in the direction of Eddie's old place. Buck's new place. "So, were you ever going to tell us that you and Eddie aren't talking? You pretended like everything was perfectly normal until yesterday." Buck bites his bottom lip and shrugs. "I'm kind of impressed you made it so long without spilling the beans."

“Shame is a powerful silencer.”

“Buck, I’m sure there's an explanation, yeah?”

“I’m kind of a pro at being ghosted at this point.” There’s a heavy silence following the statement. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean… I’m just in a shitty mood. You can ignore me.”

“Well, there’s your coffee. Start drinking, and then you’re going to tell me everything. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Chris POV

When Chris and Adriana get home, sleep is impossible. He can't stop stewing about his grandparents outright lying to him about speaking to Buck. Had they really believed that Chris or anyone else thought they would buy the 'Buck was too busy' excuse? Anyone who's so much as met Buck would never believe it as a feasible lie—then again, maybe that's why they'd spun it to his tía instead of Chris himself. He rolls over and groans when he sees his little clock that rests on the bedside table reads 11:00 PM in big, bold letters. It's obvious that Chris won't be getting to sleep any time soon.

Instead of continuing to toss and turn, Chris gets out of bed and settles at his desk, pulling out a fresh notepad along with his school laptop. He couldn't text or call anyone, but he had reached out to Denny on their shared Google Doc. But since it was Friday, it was unlikely he would see it until Monday when he arrived at school. It was their workaround when neither of them had their phones, and if you didn't look too closely, it even looked like they were working on a school assignment.

Chris stares at the crumpled slip of paper in his science folder. PTSD. Although he was doing this to push away images of his Dad's pale and lifeless form in a hospital room—PTSD was also so intertwined with him it was impossible not to think of his father hand in hand with the diagnoses.

He spends the next few hours watching TED Talks, reading science papers, reading Wikipedia articles, and even reading a few screenshots of Reddit posts. The more he reads, the more his ears begin to ring.

He drums his fingers on his desk for a few minutes before typing into his Google Doc: "PTSD is an anxiety disorder that develops from physical or severe mental or emotional distress. From a neurological standpoint, PTSD is less a disorder and more a reordering of your neural networks and sensory pathways.'

PTSD can be caused by countless different scenarios. A few examples: experiencing a natural disaster, a car wreck, a traumatic event, or time spent in active combat scenarios. I had firsthand experience with PTSD after being caught up in a tsunami while I lived in LA. My Dad was in the army and has worked as a firefighter since returning to civilian life. First responders witness a lot of gruesome things and are often put in situations where they might fear for their lives. Dispatchers hear things they might never unhear. People who work these sorts of jobs are guaranteed to develop it during their careers.'

Chris rubs his eyes, glaring at his clock, which reads 1 AM. He was exhausted, but sleep had abandoned him. It's difficult to sleep when you worry you might wake up one morning an orphan. He reads more articles and rubs at his eyes, feeling raw and vulnerable in the face of what he's been reading.

PTSD teaches you to survive in dangerous and primal situations. It causes your prefrontal cortex to shut down, which means your brain doesn’t get information fast enough. Over time the hippocampus gets shorter; that area is what stores your short-term memory. And the amygdala warns you that you’re in the red zone, releasing stress hormones. This causes the sensory system to become overwhelmed and sensitive, causing someone to be easily triggered. The overloaded sensory systems make you hyper-vigilant. You might hear and see things that aren't there.

For example, my dad's heavy rescue partner at the fire station, Buck, gets triggered by big lightning storms since he was struck by lightning a few years ago. Since then, a thunderstorm reminds his body of the panic, even though logically, indoors, he knows that he’s safe. There is nothing logical about PTSD. After the tsunami, small things like rain or even a shower would panic me.

Even after you're past the initial crisis or traumatic event, your body still remembers potentially harboring stress hormones or releasing cortisol. This can make you feel jittery, cause nightmares, and other symptoms. Some of these disappear over time; for people who have persisting issues, they can be dragged to the surface over and over again.

And although you might not realize it at face value, PTSD affects far more than just the brain. In fact, it affects your entire nervous system—your adrenal glands, which produce adrenaline, and it can even disrupt your internal organs, such as your heart rate or breathing patterns. It can also lead to issues with digestion, causing heartburn or diarrhea.

PTSD not only wears on your heart and soul but also on your body and your brain. What’s important is that with therapy we can heal and get better and overcome some of our triggers. These are a few symptoms that can show up with PTSD.

Others might look like nightmares, night sweats, panic attacks, insomnia, flashbacks, or even sleepwalking. And everyone's PTSD looks a little different from person to person, depending on the trauma or biology even.'

He writes and writes—gathering pictures and sources. By the time he's done, it's nearly 4 AM when he finally crawls into bed. He could put the rest together tomorrow. Although every inch of him is worn out, from body to brain. Chris can't stop reevaluating the last few years. Panic attacks. Insomnia.

He'd seen both of these in his father over in the past. He'd researched and read the symptoms, all things his father had tried to protect him from. He remembers Dad's exhaustion, the bruises under his eyes, but he always plastered on a smile. He remembered that terrifying night so many years ago when he'd called Buck after his father broke the walls and everything in his own room with a baseball bat. Maybe he'd had a flashback. Self-destruction, isolation, bursts of anger—all of it that Chris hadn't been old enough to see or process, but he's beginning to understand the outlines of it.

He sees some of the triggers in himself—a panic attack when his father told him that Buck was in the hospital. The racing thoughts and terror when they'd gotten the phone call, the downward spiral. The sleepless nights thinking of his mother, worrying after his father, and Buck when they were on shift. The constant terror that everyone would leave him one day—all alone in the world. Maybe that was just his diagnosed anxiety disorder, though. Maybe it was all just chalked up from losing his mother so young—seeing Kim, it had taken him back there to that night that his dad had sat him down and told him she was gone.

Chris had been extra clingy for a long time, even though he was young and didn't quite understand—probably still doesn't quite understand. It also opened his eyes that maybe his Dad was struggling with the loss of Mom more than he ever let on. He hadn't heard his father out because those hours had been so confusing, and at some point, his bid to stay in Texas had turned into something more unknowable.

Worried maybe that his father wouldn't want him back in the first place. He thinks they both need to communicate better if his dad woke up. When his dad woke up.

If Chris has learned anything from this assignment, it's that his Dad wasn't just his Dad—he was also a human. Chris isn't sure how he ever forgot that. He's certain of one thing. He needs to contact Buck—he needs a plan. That's his final thought before he drifts to sleep.

Adriana got a phone call from work and had to temporarily return to San Antonio, which was no less than an 8-hour drive away. It felt a bit like having the rug yanked out from under his feet even though she promised to be back on Monday on the first flight out that morning.

Unfortunately, that meant he had to humor his grandmother and stay over at their place Saturday night.

He's quite grumpy about the entire ordeal, and he gives them both the cold shoulder while they exchange confused glances over his head. He's begged them to let him visit Dad a few more times to no avail, and he's grown tired of his grandmother's incessant babying.

Sunday evening when they head to the hospital, Pepa is a few minutes late. They trust him, at least, not to burn the house down or do anything else extreme while he waits for her. But it provides Chris a perfect opportunity.

He sneaks into his grandparents' room and digs around for her hiding spot. He finds it in a desk drawer—his cellphone. It's dead, but that was okay. He could charge it while they were out, and he doubts Pepa even knew he was grounded. So he plugs his phone in and sits at his desk; he puts the final touches on his presentation for school tomorrow in the meantime.

When it's nearly 1 AM, the very thought of calling Buck makes Chris weep with relief. His warm gentle voice was enough to wrap Chris in a comfortable blanket of security—as long as Buck picked up, of course. Who even knew if he was still awake—but this might be his only chance since his grandparents were sleeping. Despite smothering his sobs in a pillow, he opens his contacts and hits the call button.

Chapter Text

Buck POV

Buck hasn't slept in what feels like weeks. It's more than a feeling, though; no amount of trying, or lack of screen time, or winding-down routines are working. He'd tried sleeping pills, warm glasses of milk, melatonin, and about every home remedy under the sun he could think of. He'd counted up to 1,001 fucking sheep before giving up. Sleep continues to evade him, just as it is tonight—he squints at his analog alarm clock, groaning audibly when he notices it's just a few minutes until midnight. Buck knows, of course, why he can't sleep. Stress. Life disruptions. Anxiety.

He rolls over, yanking the covers over his head. Before long it'll be 4 AM, and he'll be dreading the noise of his alarm going off around 7 so he can get ready for his shift and the long 48 hours ahead of him. He's been looking forward to the start of the 48 since the very end of their previous shift. Yet, now that it's here, he's just filled with existential dread. Part of that, Buck knows, is that Bobby's been interviewing potential firefighters to fill Eddie's position, which feels wrong, and Buck hates every moment of it anytime someone brings it up around him. It's almost like implicit confirmation that things will never return to normal again.

They would never be Buck&Eddie at the firehouse again. They might not even beBuck and Eddie anymore at all, given that he hasn't heard from his best friend in nearly a month. Their other friends have become increasingly concerned, which has only added to the worry that fills his own stomach. Buck's been trying not to think about their lack of communication unless he absolutely can't help it. That's the problem with sleep—once he's left alone, one-on-one with nothing but his thoughts, it's impossible to bar the bad ones from flooding in, right along with the good. There is no keeping his anxiety at bay when the world becomes too quiet.

Buck frowns when, through his duvet, he hears the dull noise of his phone buzzing against the hardwood of his bedside table. He rolls onto his stomach to get a good look at the contact, not willing to reach out a hand from beneath the covers unless it was an emergency. Who the hell was calling him at midnight anyway? He certainly doesn't expect to see Chris's name flashing across the screen. Buck feels his stomach flip-flop uncomfortably, and he pushes himself into a sitting position, snatching the device up and answering the call, mind and heart racing.

If it was midnight here, that meant in El Paso it was 1 AM. There is absolutely no reason Chris should or would be calling him so late—that is, unless it's an emergency. He tries and fails to swallow down panic, listening for the young boy's voice.

"Buck?"

Buck feels a bit like he's been sucker punched because Chris's voice is wet and wobbly, with tears and panic making his voice hoarse and ragged. Buck has to swallow a few times before he can choke out any words—something was wrong, Buck knows it deep in his soul. Something is very, very wrong. Buck grabs his AirPods and pops them in, crossing the room to his closet, changing out of his pajamas into sweats and a t-shirt, something comfortable he could wear on a plane.

"Chris, hey buddy. You're up late. Is everything okay?"

“Buck,” Chris’s voice comes out like a whimper. And Buck hasn’t heard him like that in years, like he’s on the verge of breaking. Not since he was much smaller, much less guarded with his feelings.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Buck presses, his heart in his throat.

“It’s Dad…"

"W-w-what?" Buck momentarily pauses, hand on the frame of the closet so he can keep his balance. He feels light-headed and faint; but he couldn't afford to pass out right now. He grounds himself with a deep steadying breath.

"It's Dad. He was in an accident. Grandma hasn't let me get in contact with you." Chris is sobbing softly on the other end of the phone. His breathing is shaky, and Buck can only just understand him through heaving sobs.

"An accident?" Buck echoes, grabbing his travel backpack. He unceremoniously grabs clothes and pajamas and shoves them inside, along with a few other toiletries. He snatches his iPad off the bedside table and slips his shoes on, hurriedly locating his wallet and keys—and in under 7 minutes he's out the front door.

Chris is crying too much to speak now, and Buck doesn't want to press him for details when he already sounds so fragile. As he jogs through the parking lot, he's already looking for direct flights to El Paso.

"Chris," Buck says, very gently, but he can hear the fear in his own voice. Still, it's calmer than he expects it to be, given how badly his hands are shaking at present. "Talk to me, buddy."

"D-dad's in the hospital," Chris manages after a moment. On the other end of the line, Buck can hear Chris's panicked gasps—he was having a panic attack. Gently, Buck orders Chris to breathe with him, and they spend the next five minutes following breathing exercises until Chris is calm enough to speak once again. "He had an accident on his way to pick me up from school." The young boy's voice cracks, and Buck feels his stomach swoop with dread.

"Bad?"

"Bad," Chris sobs. "They put him in a coma so he could heal. Grandma took my phone after it happened. I need you to come."

"I'm heading to the airport right now," Buck promises, holding back tears of his own. He's got to hold it together for Chris, just for now. Just until he could scoop him up in his arms and hold him. "I'm already on my way."

"You are?" There's hope and fear in Chris's tone, maybe a tinge of desperation and disbelief—and a whole lot of relief.

"Yeah, Chris. I'm coming."

"Promise?"

"More than I've promised anything."

Chris's voice drops suddenly. "I think she's coming. I have to go."

"Chris—" Buck begins to say urgently, but it's too late; the phone has already cut off. He smacks the steering wheel in frustration, panic coursing through his veins. Fucking Helena. His head is spinning. A week. It had been at least a week since anyone had last heard from Eddie. A fucking week of Buck assuming that Eddie had cut everyone off once and for all. He hates himself so desperately for thinking the worst of his best friend.

The next hour is fraught with anxiety. Buck makes it to LAX around 2 AM due to night work on the highway. He's shaking like a leaf by the time he reaches the parking lot. The next hour is spent buying a ticket, printing the ticket, then navigating airport security. He wanders numbly through the huge building—the place wasn't quite peaceful, but it was quiet. There were weary travelers and passengers scattered everywhere, sleeping in seats or even curled on the floor.

The entire night feels fragile, and all the fluorescent lights feel too bright against his tear-stung eyes. It feels like the bleakest of waiting rooms as he settles in near his gate. He sends a message to Chris: 'I'll be there in the morning. See you then.'

The next few hours are spent dissociating until boarding is announced. He springs to his feet and heads straight for the line, as if getting there quicker would make them leave sooner. He goes through the motions of boarding almost mindlessly; he's flown enough that it's practically muscle memory anymore. He's thankful because his autopilot mode is really the only thing keeping Buck sane.

The moment they're off the ground, he sticks his headphones on and tries and fails to sleep. It's like he can feel the morning ticking past him physically. By the time his non-stop flight has landed and he's ordered an Uber to the nearest Enterprise so he could get a car to rent for the duration of his stay, it's already 9 AM. And by the time he's gone through the process of signing contracts and paying, it's almost 10.

Chris 🤩

Today, 2:01 AM

I'll be there in the morning. See you then.

Today, 8:59 AM

I spoke with Tía Pepa when I landed. she explained a bit more

Today, 10:08 AM

pick me up from school

it's the only way i'll be able to see you

I don't know if I can just pick you up buddy

I doubt your grandparents have me listed as a guardian

just try.

please

He's about to text back that he'd try when his phone sends him a sudden burst of delayed notifications he'd missed while his phone was in airplane mode. 14 missed calls from Bobby. Buck's stomach swoops, and he glances again at the time. By California timezone standards, he should have been at work over two hours ago. And Buck, well he was never late for work, he was almost always there early—which really meant he wasn't two hours late for work, he was more like two and a half hours late. He'd got a myriad of texts from the group chat, some from Maddie, Chimney, and Hen.

Buck cringes; he'd completely forgotten about the existence of his job the moment Chris called him; he hadn't spared a thought for anything or anyone else. Work had been the farthest concern from his mind.

Chimney Sweep

Today, 9:01 AM

You're not at yours and Eddie's or rather Freddie Fakeman's… So where the hell are you?

Today, 10:15 AM

I'm not saying this lightly, but we're all very worried right now. Please let us know that you're okay as soon as you see this.

Buck taps one of the missed calls from Bobby, and he holds the phone up to his ear while it dials him back. Bobby answers damn near immediately. "Buck?"

"Hey." Buck hates the way his voice cracks on the single word. He can hear the rough exhaustion around the edges of it. It makes this day feel too real and tangible for comfort.

"Is that him?" Buck hears someone ask in the background. It sounds like Hen.

Bobby's voice is guarded. "Is everything okay? You're late?" Buck can read between the lines and hear the intonations of concern and fear. The words 'you're late' held so much weight—it wasn't a chastising remark. It was more along the lines of 'I know the fact that you're not here isn't intentional, and since you're not at home, clearly something awful has happened.' Buck wonders when they began to read each other so well.

"No, not exactly." His voice breaks again, and he's got to take a few calming breaths before he can regain his composure enough to explain. "I—"

"Are you okay? Where are you? I can—"

"Bobby—"

"If you're at the hospital, if you're hurt, I can meet you—"

"I'm sort of in El Paso?"

There's silence on the other end of the line before Bobby says, "What?"

"I'm sorry. I know I should have called… I was just. Well. Chris called me late last night, 1 AM his time, and I knew something was wrong. I guess Eddie was in a bad wreck last week, and he's in a medically induced coma. Chris asked me to come—I haven't slept—I haven't… I'm a fucking mess right now."

"A wreck," Bobby echoed, stunned. "How are we just now hearing about this?"

"Well, I talked to Pepa right after I landed, and I guess Helena's been telling everyone they already contacted me. Chris said she overheard him tell Adriana I was too busy, and they told Pepa and Abuela I was dealing with a family emergency, so they wouldn't want to bother me," Buck admits while wiping tears away. "She's been holding Chris's phone hostage."

"Buck—"

"I just sorted out my car rental. Right now I'm sitting outside a Circle-K so I can clean myself up in the bathroom. Once I'm done here, I'm going to see if they'll let me pull him out of class. I doubt they will, but Chris asked me to try."

"Okay. Well, keep me updated."

"And Bobby, I'm so sorry for not calling; I spaced it," Buck admits.

"It's okay, just keep us updated. And if you need anything at all, even if it's just to talk. Call. Okay?"

"Thanks, Bobby. I don't know what I'd do without you. Seriously."

"Is it okay if I tell the others?"

"Oh, yeah-yeah, of course. If you wouldn't mind, that would be great. Tell Chimney to let Maddie know that I'll reach out once I've got time. Just going to try to focus on getting this mess sorted, then I'll let you guys know for sure what's going on."

"Deep breaths, Buck. Just take the day one minute at a time, alright?"

"Bye, Bobby. Love you." Buck kicks himself, but Bobby's response is immediate and his voice so gentle.

"Love you too, Kid. Talk soon."

Buck drops his phone on the passenger seat and climbs out of his temporary Tacoma. He locks the door behind him and splashes water on his face and attempts to tame his curls. He needed to look presentable and not like he'd been awake for what was possibly the last 72 hours if he was going to attempt to pull Chris out of school.

On the way out he pays for an energy drink and a snack before heading back to the truck. He cracks his Monster before even reaching the driver's seat, reveling in the rush of taurine and caffeine. He types in the address for Chris's school and tries to bury all whispers of anxiety, which would definitely try to revolt once he'd consumed more of his drink. After browsing the school website, he heads to the side doors, and the office buzzes him inside. He pauses at the reception desk, struggling to keep his fidgeting to a minimum. He's a little terrified that security would come and kick him out at any moment.

"Good morning. Are you here for the science class presentations?"

"Um, I'm Evan Buckley. I'm here for Christopher Diaz?"

"Perfect. It looks like Eddie Diaz has you listed as one of his guardians. You're on our approved list, which means I'll just need to see your ID and have you fill out this visitors log and name tag." Buck nods, quickly pulling out his wallet; she scans it before handing it back over. "His class is down the hall on your left. Room 142."

"Okay," Buck agrees, scribbling his information on the page she hands him. "And after his presentation, I'm planning on pulling him out of class so we can visit his dad in the hospital if that's okay?"

"Absolutely, just stop back here and I can help you sign him out."

"Thank you," Buck says meaningfully, sticking his name tag to his shirt before drifting down the hall in pursuit of Chris's classroom. He hears Chris's voice before he sees him; it's a little deeper than Buck remembers it. Buck sneaks into the classroom, and the teacher casts him a smile, but Buck can't look away from Chris, whom he's only seen on FaceTime and through pictures for what felt like an impossibly long time.

Chris is too focused on his classmates to notice Buck leaning against the back wall, listening intently.

"The government needs to take better care of people out on the front lines. Firefighters, dispatchers, paramedics, doctors, nurses, police, and everyone in between should have mental healthcare more easily accessible to them without stigma. My dad is a veteran, and he struggled with a lot of red tape surrounding care for his own PTSD."

Buck listens to the rest of Chris's presentation with a sense of awe—he is so damn smart for his age, and Buck can tell that his teacher is equally impressed. Chris talks about the 118, talks about his dad, talks about Buck, and even talks about his own experience. Buck can almost tangibly feel the love and care Chris had put into every slide. He's serious as he talks about the lightning strike that had almost taken Buck from his boys, and he wipes away a tear as the class claps and the teacher directs Chris's attention to Buck.

The young teenager's eyes widen with excitement and relief. He crosses the room so fast that Buck barely has time to reach out before Chris is dropping his crutches and wrapping his arms around Buck's body.

"Hey, kid. Great presentation. You killed it."

"Only old people say that, Buck." Chris says, his voice muffled in his bicep.

"Respect your elders then," Buck teases softly. Chris steps away and looks up at Buck hopefully, glancing toward the door. The teacher crosses the room to greet him.

"Hi, I'm Mr. Whitlock. Chris's science teacher, I'm glad you could make it to his presentation. I don't think we've met before."

I'm Evan Buckley. His dad, Eddie, is my partner. I also go by Buck, per presentation fame, I was struck by lightning." Chris makes a groaning noise, and Buck nudges him lightly. Without being asked, Chris goes to gather his things. "I cleared it with the office, but I'm going to pull him out of school for the rest of the day so that we can go visit his dad."

"Of course," Mr. Whitlock agrees immediately. "Just make sure you check out at the front desk."

"Thank you," Buck says, with a smile, nodding at Chris, who heads straight for the door. Buck follows Chris out into the hallway, but just as they're leaving, Mr. Whitlock calls out, gently closing the door behind him and looking intently at Chris.

"That was a wonderful presentation, Christopher. The best I've seen in years. You did great work today."

Buck watches a genuine smile grace Chris's mouth. Buck is certain those have been rare to come by since the accident, so he savors the sight of it. Chris is bashful as he thanks his teacher and casts a sideways glance at Buck.

"I'm going to grab my stuff while you sign me out."

"Sounds good," Buck agrees. "Meet me at the side exit."

When Chris reappears a few minutes later with his things in tow, they head straight for the door. "Where to?" Buck asks.

"Dads'."

Buck nods and is happy to drive them home.

Chapter Text

Buck POV

Once they make it to Eddie's new place, Chris shows Buck around the house.

Admittedly, Buck is a little surprised by just how much stuff is still in boxes. Almost the entire kitchen was still packed away; the living room was sparse, and Eddie's room was strewn with clothes, but nothing outside of the essentials had been taken out of their boxes. Aside from a coffee maker, which sits curiously on Eddie's bedside table.

Buck's stomach aches when he sees just how badly Eddie has been struggling out here—no wonder he'd dropped contact. Eddie knew that Buck would have been worried and probably would have dropped everything to be here if he thought that Eddie needed him. That was the thing about Eddie though; he hated asking for help until it was an absolute necessity. That was the effect of his upbringing, no doubt.

At complete odds with the rest of the house, when they step inside Chris's room, it's organized and perfect, and Buck sees just how much love and effort Eddie spent putting this single room together. As always, caring for his sons' needs above his own.

"I think I'm going to take a nap," Chris said once he's finished showing Buck around. "I haven't really been sleeping since…" His voice trails off, and he looks away like he's ashamed.

"I could use a nap too," Buck admits sheepishly. "Then we'll get an early dinner. Sound good?"

Chris, who already looks partially asleep, flops down onto his bed, his legs halfway off the mattress; he's either too tired or too lazy to fix it, so he sighs and stretches out contentedly. Buck steps inside and spins Chris so his entire body is on the bed, earning a soft laugh from the young boy. Buck gently covers him with his duvet before flicking the lights off and heading out of the room. Chris is long past the age of wanting to be tucked in, but he allows Buck to do it happily, without even a half-hearted complaint, reminding Buck so much of at 6 year old he'd first met.

Buck does another walk through of the house, taking it all in. He stares at the couch for a bit before shrugging and turning to head back to Eddie's room. He pulls out one of his old LAFD shirts that somehow ended up in the mix of Eddie's things—it was a size too big for the other man—and he sheds his joggers, crawling under the sheets. He's enveloped in the scent of Eddie's familiar body wash and shampoo. He presses his face into the pillows and inhales. For the first time in a long time, Buck sleeps.

When Buck wakes up, it's a gradual sort of thing. He's warm, and sunlight is filtering through the blinds, golden as it begins to set, which meant it was late evening to early afternoon. He rubs his eyes before sliding out of bed and pulling his joggers back on, kicking his carry-on off to the side. He pulls out his phone and curses himself, forgetting to update Bobby earlier. He pauses by Chris's room; the teenager is still snoozing peacefully, and Buck doesn't dare wake him, so he very gently closes the door behind him as he leaves.

Captain Dad

Today, 5:15 PM

Picked Chris up from school. Took him to Eddie's, and we both took a nap. I just woke up. Chris is still sleeping.

We're going to try to see Eddie later once I get a proper lay of the land.

Pepa 🩷

Today, 11:43 AM

I picked Chris up from school early. Would you let Helena or Ramon know he’s with me near the end of the school day?

Today, 12:09 PM

I’ll let them know. Do you want their numbers?

Today, 5:15 PM

Probably a good idea. Any negotiation techniques you recommend?

We’ll have dinner at Eddie’s parents place. Adriana should be back soon. We can play buffer for you.

Have I ever told you that you’re my dream girl?

You flirt too much.

You love me 🩷

See you soon. Hug Chris for me.

He’s been asleep all afternoon. Once he does, I’ll give him a big kiss on the forehead and let him know it’s from you.

The boys and I have dearly missed you.

I’ve missed you all too. More than you could ever know.

Buck familiarizes himself with Eddie's kitchen. It's smaller than their place back in LA, but he relocates the coffee pot to the kitchen and starts the machine immediately. He would need more caffeine if he planned on getting through an encounter with Eddie's parents this evening. Once he's done that, he sends off a message to the full 118 friends and family chat to let everyone know what was going on. He messages Maddie separately to keep her abreast of all the details, small or otherwise. The machine finishes and he pours himself a cup before settling at the dining table with his mug.

Buck frowns and looks up when he hears the front door open. "Hello? Is someone here?" It's a woman's voice, vaguely familiar. Her voice is hesitant, and he can tell she's poised to leave at the first sign of trouble.

"It's Buck," he calls back softly, mindful of Chris still sleeping down the hall.

He recognizes her instantly as Adriana rounds the corner: "You're here."

"Chris called me last night and explained what was going on."

Something in her voice changes, confirming Chris's story from the night before. "Sophia and I thought that Mom's line the other night was a load of shit. I wanted to check for myself, but I don't have your new number. When I asked Pepa, she mentioned something about a family emergency, so I stopped digging."

"Well, I let Pepa know that I took Chris out of school after his presentation. He's taking a nap in his room."

"You look a bit tired yourself."

"Chris called me at midnight, my time. I came straight here. Just woke up about 20 minutes ago. Coffee?"

"Please," Adriana agrees, so Buck stands up and finds a second mug. She roots through Eddie's fridge and pulls out Buck's favorite creamer, the very one Eddie hates. Buck feels sick all over again.

"I keep trying to wrap my head around all of this. Eddie kind of cut contact unexpectedly not long after he moved—so hearing from Chris that way…" Buck swallows so hard his throat aches. He shakes his head. "Chris told me on the way over that you've been looking out for him whenever he decided he didn't want to stay with his grandparents. So thanks."

"You don't have to thank me for watching my nephew. If it weren't me, it would be Pepa and Abuela," Adriana points out.

"I know, I know," Buck mumbles, flustered and averting his eyes.

"I don't know what's going to happen if—" Adriana's voice gives out. "I can't protect him forever. Mom wouldn't allow that, unfortunately."

"If that…if that happened. In the event something happened to Eddie, I would become Chris's guardian, per Eddie's will.

Adriana nearly drops her mug; she sets it down with a soft thud, staring at Buck in disbelief. "Wait—what?"

"He did it years ago. We haven't really told people, but if the worst ever happened—legally, I would become Chris's guardian. Of course, I might have to fight your grandparents for custody, but I'd do that happily. Chris—he's my kid too."

They both startle when there's a flash of movement, and Buck realizes belatedly that Chris was hiding just out of sight, listening in on their conversation.

"Chris, I know you're out there," Buck says. Chris slinks in on his crutches, and Buck cringes when he realizes that there are tears in his eyes.

He doesn't expect Chris to say, "You really mean that?"

"Of course," Buck confirms immediately; he fights down his own tears when Chris wraps him in a crushing hug.

"I'm scared," Chris confesses into Buck's shoulder.

"Me too, Kid. Me too." He glances up at Adriana, who is watching them softly. "And no matter what happens, we'll do whatever you want, okay? I'll stay here, or we can go back to LA. It's all up to you. But your dad's a fighter. This isn't his first ball game."

"That makes you sound old too."

Buck lightly pinches Chris's earlobe, earning a yelp and partial grin as he draws back. Chris sits at the table with Buck and his aunt, straightening his spine a little.

"Can I have some coffee too? Dad lets me sometimes."

"No, he doesn't," Buck replies with certainty, but that doesn't stop him from pouring Chris a small mug. "Creamer?"

Chris upturns his nose at it, practically mimicking his father before taking a big gulp. Moments later he's spluttering and coughing, sending coffee spraying all over the table. Adriana and Buck both burst out laughing. He reaches over for the creamer and pours a healthy amount into the mug, mixing it before scooting it back over to Chris.

"It's bitter," Chris accuses. "You tricked me!"

"I asked if you wanted creamer. Try it again." Chris eyes Buck suspiciously before taking another, more cautious sip. He makes a considering expression before drinking more. "Also, under no circumstances are we telling your grandmother that I gave you coffee." Chris sticks his tongue out at Buck. "Speaking of, I'm going to take a quick shower. I smell like an airplane. Then I guess we'll need to head over to—" He's cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing angrily against the counter. "I bet that's her," Buck guesses aloud before picking up his phone. "This is Buck."

"You can't just take my grandson out of school when you like. I'll call the police on you."

"Good evening, Helena. I see you spoke with Pepa."

"I'm serious," Helena huffs on the other end of the line. Somewhere in the background it sounds a bit like Ramon is trying, and failing, to soothe her.

"Look, we'll be over for dinner in an hour or so, like Pepa said. We can discuss this then."

"We're going to talk about this now. You can't just fly in from LA whenever you like and take a kid who isn't yours out of school."

"If Eddie hadn't added me to the approved list, I wouldn't have been able to take him out of school in the first place. Take that up with your son." Buck replies matter-of-factly. "And the police aren't going to do anything. I would have let you know sooner, but I didn't have your number. That's why I asked Pepa to contact you."

"This is unacceptable."

"I apologize, but I am only doing what is in Chris's best interest." He walks out of the kitchen and down the hallway into Eddie's room. "You shouldn't have kept Eddie's accident a secret from me, and you certainly shouldn't have lied to Chris about asking me to come. The 118—we're just as much Eddie's family as you are." On the other end of the phone, Helena scoffs. "Believe me, don't believe me. I'd honestly don't really care, Helena. We'll be there in a little bit, we can discuss this in person." He hangs up and lets out a low breath, kicking himself into motion before he can spiral.

Buck grabs his change of clothes and toiletries. He grabs one of the fluffy towels that he'd bought Eddie once upon a time and revels in the warmth of the water once he's in the shower. He scrubs his body, ridding himself of the scent of stale airport air and grime. He washes his hair with Eddie's shampoo despite knowing it would kill some of the volume in his curls—his hair is the least of his worries right now. He dries himself off and changes into a pair of jeans and one of Eddie's oversized LAFD hoodies with Diaz printed on the back. It smells like Eddie's familiar cologne, and Buck allows it to center him, to ground him, and prepare him for the hours ahead. He brushes his teeth and uses his curl cream, which he had somehow remembered in his rush.

Adriana and Chris are still quietly talking in the kitchen when Buck finishes getting ready. He glances at the clock with a sigh because somehow it's already time to head down the road to the Diaz residence.

Upon Chris's request, Buck loads up his wheelchair—the last week was wearing on Chris, physically and mentally. Adriana climbs into the passenger seat, and when asked Buck assists Chris in pulling himself up into the back seat.

The drive to Eddie's parents is shorter than Buck would like it to be, he's dreading every moment of the drive. Adriana leads the way inside calling out. "Papi, I'm home."

Ramon comes in from the other room, pausing when he spots Buck in her company. "Buck, it's good to see you."

Buck barely believes it, but he accepts the handshake gracefully. Helena appears a moment later, sending Chris a sharp look. "I knew I heard you on the phone last night. You need to give that back. You're grounded from it for an extra week."

Chris huffs, but Buck stops him before he can speak. "I doubt Eddie would agree with you cutting him off from his support system at a time like this. Besides, if I remember correctly, Eddie requested that Chris have his phone on him at all times.

"Well, that was before—"

"Are you sure that you want to finish that statement, Mom?" Adriana cuts in. Chris wheels himself into the living room, and Buck sets his crutches by the door for easy access should Chris want to switch transportation modes.

Helena drops her voice. "You had no right—"

"No, you had no right to keep this from me," Buck replies back meaningfully, keeping his voice calm and even. "Especially when Chris specifically requested that you get in contact with me."

"You're not his dad," Helena snaps.

"No, but I am one of his guardians back in LA." Buck doubts they know about the will, and Buck certainly isn't going to be the one to drop that bomb on them, not unless absolutely necessary. "After dinner I'm taking Chris to the hospital to visit his dad. I called and checked up on their policies; they said it was perfectly fine for him to visit as long as he's well-behaved. And obviously that's never been an issue."

"Another lie," Chris grumbles softly behind him in his grandparents direction, just soft enough they couldn't hear.

"He doesn't need to see his dad like that."

"I think that's something we leave up to Chris—he wants to see his father."

"Children don't belong in the ICU."

"Well, neither does Eddie," Buck says a little sharply. "I didn't come here to argue semantics with you, Helena. I'm telling you what's happening.

"He's our grandson. You don't get to make these decisions for him."

"No, Chris should be able to make these decisions for himself. Eddie would take his opinion into consideration; you should honor Chris with at least that. He's a teenager; at some point you should start treating him as such. He's book smart and emotionally intelligent. And when the positions were reversed, Eddie brought Chris to see me, so I know he can handle it. If I thought he couldn't, I wouldn't have agreed to take him.

"He's not your son," Helena snarls.

"He might as well be," Buck replies. "I've been co-parenting him with Eddie for years. I'm sorry that you're just now getting a taste of that—but if you cared about your own son a little more, maybe you'd have a better idea of what's actually going on in his life.

"That's not on me," Helena snaps.

"I think Buck has a good point," Ramon cuts in. "Chris does deserve to have a say."

"Oh, you're taking his side now?"

"There are no sides, Mom," Adriana snaps. "Buck is only trying to do what's right for Chris, and you're the only one who has a problem with it. Have you considered that?"

That's the moment Pepa appears from the kitchen. "Evancito," Pepa says brightly. "You made it. Why don't you come help me and Abuela in the kitchen?"

Buck beams when he sees her and crosses the room to scoop her into his arms. She laughs and leans up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I've missed you."

Abuela swoops in next, happily hugging him and reaching up to pat his cheek. Behind them, Helena huffs in irritation. "Have you lost weight? We need to feed you. We're making Chris's favorite empanadas."

Buck smiles and hugs her tightly. "LA isn't the same without you."

He follows them into the kitchen and helps make the dough while Abuela checks on the meat. Buck leans against the counter and teases them and laughs, and at some point Chris joins them. For the barest moment it feels like they're all back in LA, waiting on Eddie to arrive separately. It makes Buck's chest ache.

"I told Adriana," Buck says softly to Pepa while Abuela has Chris distracted. She's one of the very few people who knew about the whole will situation. "And Chris overheard; I thought he was asleep in his room."

"How did that go?"

"He seemed happy, upset obviously, but happy. Eddie's going to kill me."

"No, he's going to be happy you always go the extra mile to take care of Chris."

"Do you think I'm wrong for wanting to take Chris to see him?"

"No, I think it's the right thing to do. Admittedly I might not be entirely clear-headed with how upset I am with Helena. She'd told us that Chris told her you were having a family emergency. Well, I'm just sorry I didn't check with you myself or reach out."

Buck gives Pepa another hug. "What matters is that I’m here now, and I'll be here until…well, I guess until things settle down. Until Eddie wakes up or longer if I need to.

"He'll wake up." Pepa doesn't sound half as certain as he would like. "He always does."

Buck forces a smile and nods, "He'll wake up."

+++

Buck POV

Taking Chris to the ICU doesn't go as smoothly as Buck would like. They're going to be cutting close on visiting hours by the time they actually get there. Helena had delayed them on the way out the door with more arguments. Ramon had finally convinced her just to get in the car and Adriana had decided to travel with her parents to keep the peace. Which means Buck and Chris are on their own again.

He keeps within the speed limit and tries not to overthink Chris's heavy quiet.

"Buck, can I ask you a question?" Buck glances over at the boy; he hesitates because the question felt loaded.

"Well, I'll certainly do my best."

"What was it like when Mom died?" It's exactly the last question Buck is expecting, and he inhales slowly, mulling the question over. "I've just been thinking about everything that happened a lot lately, and I read a similar story to mine on Reddit. Impaired judgment from PTSD and all that. You were there when she died. Right?"

"Chris, I'm not sure…"

"Buck, please."

Buck chews his bottom lip before nodding to himself; he inhales deeply. "Most of that afternoon was a blur. It was like any other call until the moment it wasn't. Your dad and I were checking on a patient, and Chimney was our captain that day. The patient had driven into a crowd of people by accident after losing control of her vehicle. When we turned to look, I saw her—and so did your dad. He stayed right by her side all the way to the hospital."

“So he was there when…”

“Yeah. He was able to hold her hand as she died.”

"That must…that must have been hard for him." Chris wrings his hands together. "I know that day…with that woman…he didn't mean to hurt me. And he didn't even know she was going to be there. I know none of that was ever supposed to happen. But it still hurt so badly, and I wanted to hurt him in return. That's why I called…"

"Your dad understood that you needed space."

"I thought if we were apart, I don't know… that I could keep him safe. Like if he was far enough away from me, nothing bad could happen. It sounds stupid."

"That's not stupid," Buck cuts in firmly.

"But all of this just made me realize bad things just happen sometimes. And I always wanted to blame it on—well, something. Like, for a while I blamed firefighting. But Dad was just on his way to pick me up from school and… When he didn't show up, I knew something was wrong."

"And it's like…whenever I did call him, I thought he seemed happier? Happier in LA, I mean. And I didn't want to ask him to come get me, even after I was ready. If I'd just told him, if I'd been honest, maybe none of this would have happened. We wouldn't have even been in El Paso, and none of this would have ever happened."

"Chris, none of this is your fault. The only person who is at fault is the person who intentionally ran that red light. And trust me, your father was pathetically miserable without you," Buck lilts his voice into a joke, and it earns him a genuine smile.

"You need to listen to me—Chris, you are the center of his world. He missed you every damn day—we both did. And besides, pretending to be bad at video games to make him feel better isn't as much fun when you're not around to laugh at us." Chris laughs.

"Trust me, when all this is over—when your Dad wakes up—if you want to head back to LA, we'll pack your room up and ship your dad FedEx if we have to."

"Like a mummy?"

"Exactly like a mummy," Buck agrees with a grin.

They're both in a better mood after the conversation, which quickly dulls once they're walking through the doors of the waiting room. He holds the folder he'd brought along and waits for a nurse to double check that it was fine that he brought Chris back with him to visit Eddie.

"I still think this is a really bad idea," Helena grumps, setting Buck's teeth on edge. "Chris has gone through enough as it is."

"Can you not talk about me like I'm not sitting right here?" Chris snaps at her with a glare.

"I'm going to try to find someone to talk to," Buck says, leaving Chris with his aunt and his grandparents. He talks politely to the receptionist, who promises to send someone to meet him shortly. Buck checks in with his name, stomach twisted up with worry.

"Perfect. Evan Buckley, you're right at the top of the list."

"I wasn't sure if Eddie added me after moving."

"Looks like he updated his release paperwork back in November. You shouldn't have any issues visiting him."

"Thank you," Buck says, returning to where Chris's family waits. "They're sending someone out," Buck explains.

A few moments later a doctor appears. "I was informed a Mr. Buckley was here?"

"That's me," Buck calls out, standing up to greet the woman.

"Perfect timing, I have a few things to discuss with you. After looking over Mr. Diaz's paperwork, you're his power of attorney, is that correct?" Behind them, Helena gasps.

"I would be more than happy to go over anything with you," Buck agrees.

"Would it be at all possible for me to take Chris in to see his father for a few minutes?" Buck ruffles Chris's hair, and he leans into the touch. Buck sets a light hand on the teenager's shoulder; the poor kid was trembling like a leaf. There's a mix of hope and fear in his eyes. "I read up on your policy, which said no one younger than 12. But Chris turned 14 a few months back. I brought his birth certificate if you need proof of identification or age?"

"Please," Chris begs. "I know he's in a coma, but I need—I need to talk to him."

"We'd be more than happy to allow him to visit his dad as long as he's with a trusted adult or guardian. I think it would be best if he picked who he'd like to visit with?" The doctor's voice goes up in a question, glancing at Chris, her expression searching.

"Buck," Chris immediately requests, looking up at him with big scared eyes. Buck's heart squeezes. "I want Buck to go in with me."

Behind him, Helena starts to argue, but the doctor simply nods and motions for them to follow her.

"Buck, can you?" Chris's voice is weak, and Buck nods, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair, following behind the kind nurse who gives Chris an encouraging, kind smile.

"I will warn you, it can be a little scary to see someone you love hooked up to all these big machines," the nurse warns very gently.

"It's not my first time," Chris says, but his voice is barely audible.

His dad and I are both firefighters in LA. We've both had a few close calls." The doctor nods in understanding, sending Chris an equally supportive smile as she and the nurse lead them into the room. "I'll do a few more rounds, then come back to touch base with you?"

"Sounds good," Buck agrees. "Could I be kept in the loop on everything in the future? I wasn't contacted when he first went into the hospital, and his mother has refused to explain much about his condition."

"Absolutely, once you're done with your visit, I'd be happy to go over the details of his care with you. I'll make you the primary contact in the future."

"Thanks," Buck says, smiling and finally pushing Chris into the hospital room.

Buck stands back and tries hard not to listen as Chris sits beside his dad's bed, holding his hand tenderly. Buck also tries to keep the tears in, but they stream down his face like his eyes are miniature waterfalls. And he's grieving over so much more than just the fact his best friend is in this bed at all. He's kicking himself for not just coming to El Paso all those months ago when Eddie had first gone non-contact. He's grieving for lost time; he hates himself for assuming the worst when it was so obvious that Eddie's been in a bad headspace, simply keeping up appearances. Buck's angry that it all comes pouring out of him on a whim, without much control at all. Seeing someone you loved in the pale lights of a hospital room and dull bed never got easier.

Buck glances over when Chris wheels himself over to where Buck is standing, and he's about to ask if Chris is ready to head out when the nurse from before stops him.

"If you want a few more minutes with him, I'd be happy to take your son back to the rest of your family. I believe I saw his aunt out there." The man gestures down the hallway.

Buck glances at Chris, who nods that he would be fine with Adriana there. Chris wheels himself out of the room, and Buck lets out a slow, shaky breath, scrubbing at the tears on his cheeks again.

Now that Chris is gone, Buck allows himself to look at Eddie, really look at him. Seeing him hooked up to all these machines for the second time in his life feels fucking impossible. It's like Buck has had the wind knocked out of him, and like there's a giant anvil pressing on his chest, pinning him to place. He staggers forward and pulls up a chair beside the bed. He hesitantly reaches out and touches Eddie's cheek ever so gently.

"Oh, Eddie," Buck breathes softly. "This is payback for getting struck by lightning, isn't it?" He gently strokes his hair, his chest growing tighter and tighter with every passing minute. Eddie is patched together with gauze, stitches, and medical tape. Bruises cover his face and arms. He looks small in the hospital gown. The chasm in Buck's chest seems to grow and grow.

"Diaz, I swear to God that if you fucking die on me, I will knock the wall out in your unit in LA. Don't fucking test me. Eddie, you're not allowed to die. Then not only will I have to deal with my parents on my own but your parents too. I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, but you would barely be surprised by all the fuckery that's gone on." Buck shakes his head, tracing his fingers up and down Eddie's forearm.

"Things haven't been the same without you in LA. I really wish you would have just fucking told me that things were so bad here. I would have come—and maybe that's exactly why you pulled away and isolated. Because you hate asking for help, but I hate that you don't ask me for help—because you give so fucking much to people you love. Hell, you moved all the way to El Paso for your son. Growing up, I would have killed for that sort of loyalty from my parents. You never fail to amaze me. So, you need to wake up so I can say all of this to your face rather than to your prone limp body."

Round and round we go, and one of us always seems to end up back here. I haven't gotten to the doctor yet, so I don't really have a rundown on your condition. But just in case… I love you. I need you to know that, if the worst were to happen and you never wake up, I need you to know that you changed my whole fucking world, Eds. You made me feel like I have a place in the world, like, like I'm worth more than my parents set me up for."

"Chris told me that he wants to come back to LA. So you better fucking wake up so you can come home. We can put your paperwork in before Bobby has to fill your position. He's been working on hiring lately; Ravi's mostly filled in, but at some point he'll have to replace Ravi—and I'm pretty sure if anyone else accidentally calls him Eddie on a call, he's going to snap and kill us all. So, wake up for me. You hear me? Wake up for me. Visiting hours are almost over, so I'll see you tomorrow when Chris is at school. Okay?"

Buck leans down and kisses his temple before going in search of the doctor.

+++

Buck POV

Buck calls Bobby once he's certain that Chris is asleep. They spent the rest of the evening on the couch, mostly quiet with the TV on in the background. He thinks that they're both feeling a little numb. They'd both gotten ready for bed and then had a hot chocolate.

"If you're having trouble sleeping, come find me, okay? You won't be in trouble for being awake. I know how difficult sleeping is, especially when your body fights it, no matter how exhausted you are." After that, Chris had allowed Buck to tuck him in again like he had when he was small. He leans down and kisses his forehead, earning a noise of annoyance from Chris, but Buck doesn't really care; he simply ruffles the boy's hair and shuts his light off, gently closing the door behind him before stepping out on the porch for air. He leaves the door open just a crack. Despite it being February, the night was rather nice. He sits on the porch steps and pulls out his phone, dialing Bobby's number.

"Hey, Buck."

"You busy?"

“Cooking dinner for the 118, but I can talk.”

“Chim and Hen there?”

“Yeah. They've been pestering me for scraps.”

“You can put it on speaker.” There’s a pause, leaving time for Bobby to flip the audio over. “Well, I just got Chris to bed a little bit ago. We went to visit Eddie. Since he’s fourteen, I was able to get him into the ICU without much issue. The doctor says the plan is to ease his medication starting tomorrow so they can ease him out of his coma now that his body has started to heal. He looks rough, but it could have been a lot worse. I found some of the pictures of the wreck online.” Buck swallows hard.

“How are you doing?” Hen asks.

“I don’t really know. Not yet, at least. I sat with him for about 45 minutes. Chris stayed about 25 of those.”

“And Chris?”

“He’s holding it together. I’m babying him a little, honestly, but also trying to be as straightforward and adult about this as I can.”

“So picking him up from school was okay? They didn’t give you any problems.”

“I guess Eddie updated the school's info and his information at the hospital once he got here. I’m Eddie’s medical proxy and power of attorney, so he made sure they had that information here too and—”

“Wait, what? Since when? Hen asks.

“Since like, years back, I guess. Not long after he was shot. At least he told me about that.”

“What does that mean?" Chimney asks with confusion.

“No-nothing, it’s not important. Anyways, I’ll keep you guys updated. I’ll text Maddie and let her know what’s up.”

"Talk to you later, Buck."

"Love you guys."

Buck ends the call and drops his head into his hands with a sigh.

+++

Buck POV

The next day, Eddie doesn't wake up. Nor the day after that—the doctor warned them that sometimes it takes time, but Buck has never been good with patience. He throws himself into creating a routine while Helena argues with Buck about how they should split time with their grandson. Buck argued that it should be up to Chris and that Chris deserves stability since his entire life felt like it was in free fall.

Buck's life also feels a bit like it's in free fall. He'd officially taken a temporary leave from work so he could stay in El Paso for a while longer. The worst part is that he doesn't really know what to do with himself while Chris is at school, which means he begins to obsessively stress-clean Eddie's home every moment he's alone.

Unpacking feels wrong since Chris keeps bringing up moving back to LA, so instead he starts some of the renovation projects Eddie's got lying around.

Maybe if he fixed the place up a bit, Buck could help him sell it for more than he bought it for when he woke up. He paints, he levels, he tears up and places flooring, he replaces shutters, and fixes the toilet and leaky sink. He watches countless YouTube videos, hitting up areas of the house that needed some TLC. Chris seems to like asking about his most recent daily project, and Buck likes having somewhere to put his energy.

One day when Helena drops by, he's in the middle of placing new kitchen tile. She looks surprised and even a little impressed—not an easy feat, Buck has learned that between conversations with Eddie and Adriana and his general experience with her. He had lunch in the Instant Pot, so he washes his hands and offers her and Ramon lunch. Ramon accepts, although Helena visibly makes a face. Buck sets the table and offers them water or overly sweet sweet tea. Chris's favorite.

"Look, I know things have been tense between the three of us," Buck says as he serves Helena and Ramon rice. "And I don't want that. Eddie wouldn't want that, and I know it probably stresses Chris out. So could we start over at least just for now? A truce?"

"Also, this is Javanese curry; it's Indonesian. Potatoes and zucchini, Chris loves it. I promised I'd make him enough for school."

"You've convinced him to eat vegetables?" Helena sounds surprised. "Willingly?"

"I've got my tricks," Buck agrees. "Eddie's cooking skills have improved, but I still do a lot of the cooking in LA. I guess you could say it's my love language."

"Starting fresh is a good idea," Ramon offers, sending Helena a serious look. "I think we were just both a bit taken off guard by what a large role you seem to play in our grandson's life."

"I get that. We don't know each other very well, so you don't trust me. I just need you to know that I have Chris's best interest at heart too. And I know you have opinions about Eddie's abilities to be a father—which you shouldn't—but Eddie trusts me with Chris. And Chris…Chris is your son's entire world. His universe. He would do anything for that kid. Eddie's my best friend, and I know you have your differences, but at the end of the day we're all on the same team here.”

"You're going to take him back to LA," Helena accuses.

"Look, I'm not making any executive decisions here for Chris or Eddie, but I can tell you one thing: I'm not going anywhere without Eddie."

"You have a life—family—a job. You'd leave all of that for them?" Helena sounds like she can't believe it, a little twist of disgust in her tone.

"There are more jobs. I could find a temporary one here if I needed to. And yes, that's how much both of these boys mean to me. But also, you should know—if Eddie doesn't wake up—maybe we would go. If that's what Chris wanted."

"I contacted a lawyer," Helena blurts.

"What?" Ramon asks, turning to face her, slack-jawed. Buck clenches his hands in his lap, holding his breath.

"I applied for guardianship."

"I'm going to contest that," Buck replies calmly.

"You have absolutely no claim on our grandchild."

"Well, take that up with Eddie," Buck responds simply. "I'm not going to take Chris anywhere without telling you first, but you asked, and I told you how it is. Hopefully none of this will even matter because Eddie's going to wake up."

The rest of the lunch is awkward and quiet. Once they're gone, Buck returns to placing tiles with a vengeance, eyes full of tears and stomach full of anxiety. He pauses just long enough to send a single message to the 118 group chat.

A-Shift Shitshow & Fam

Today, 1:51 PM

Buck

If anyone is off tonight, can they stop by my place and get my lawyer's number out of the safe? I need a local recommendation for representation.

Today, 2:18 PM

Chim

What’s going on?

Today, 2:49 PM

Chim

?

Today, 3:01 PM

Chim

You can’t just drop that and disappear.

Hen

Do we need to post bail or…? Did you murder his mom? Do you need an alibi?

Today, 3:09 PM

Buck

Helena filed for guardianship. I need a lawyer to contest it.

Hen

Shit.

Also, you’re applying for guardianship?

Buck

It’s what eddie wanted. I brought the copy of his will with me, in case I needed it. I hope it doesn’t come to that. He could wake up anytime.

Maddie

His will?

Buck

In the event of his death, I'm to become Chris’s legal guardian. He did it after the well collapse.

Hen

What???

Chim

?

Maddie

UM??

Buck flips his phone over and goes back to placing tile. He needed to hurry; he’ll need to pick Chris up from school before long.

Chapter Text

Buck POV

After Chris heads to school each morning, Buck spends a few hours a day sitting by Eddie's bed, wishing, hoping, and waiting for his best friend to wake up. It's as much a part of the routine as getting Chris up and around in the morning and making sure he gets to sleep at a reasonable hour. It doesn't take long for the nurses and staff to recognize him, to become friendly with him, and to send him those damn pitying glances. They don't know Eddie, though, not like Buck does. He has no doubts that one of these days Eddie will open those pretty brown eyes and crack a joke. Any day now, Buck is certain. Eddie will wake up.

So Buck sits by Eddie's hospital bed and tells Eddie about various calls the 118 had attended that he hadn't heard about during their brief stint of absence in one anothers lives. He tells Eddie about Christmas, he tells him about a failed date with a guy named Derek and a woman named Stephanie.

"And both dates were completely awful, so I've sworn off dating again. But then again, maybe we both should have done that after you dated Marisol and the whole Kim ordeal." Buck had told Eddie.

Today he says, "You know I'm half certain you only got into the wreck so I could come do all the hard labor for your house remodel. For the record, I've repainted every room, redone the floors, fixed your sink, and retiled your kitchen, and that's not even half of it. Also, it was rude of you to go into a medically induced coma and leave me to deal with Helena alone."

Buck always rambles just like this, just to fill the too quiet silence of the room. To drown out the beeping of all the machines Eddie's hooked up to, all the machines keeping him alive. At least he's breathing on his own. Buck gently squeezes Eddie's hand in his. "You'll never believe who I ran into the other day back home. Taylor. I know I said I swore off dating, but—you know, I considered it. Third time's the charm and all that."

He glances up at Eddie's face, as if waiting for a reaction. He can already almost hear Eddie's biting sarcasm in response to that claim. The last thing he expects is for Eddie's face to actually twitch. Buck's heart jumps in his chest; he's on his feet in moments, looking for any more signs of wakefulness.

"That was a fucking joke, by the way. But if mentioning Taylor to you is actually what it took to wake your jealous ass up, I'll definitely keep that up my sleeve for next time." Eddie's eyelids twitch and flutter open. "And yeah, I'm aware calling you jealous is hysterical coming from the guy who almost broke your ankle because you made a new friend. I'm working on that with my therapist."

Eddie blinks a few more times, and Buck's heart is in his throat. Eddie was awake, disoriented but awake. He was actually—. Eddie tries to shift, and a whine of pain passes by his lips. Buck lunges for the call button, and moments later a nurse appears in the doorway, wide-eyed. The room quickly fills with medical staff, and Buck is whisked back to the waiting room by the charge nurse.

Eddie's doctor returns an hour or two later and beckons Buck to follow. "Well, we've only done a few basic tests, but he seems to have his full mental faculties. There will be more neurological exams before he's able to be released of course. We intend to keep him for a few more days for observation, but to be frank, things are looking a lot better than we initially expected.

Buck smiles so wide that his face aches, relief releasing from his chest with a whoosh. He eagerly follows her down the hallway and bursts into Eddie's room. Eddie appears exhausted, but his bed is propped up, and he looks coherent enough. He lifts his chin to peer up at Buck in surprise when he enters.

"Taylor fucking Kelly is what wakes you up from the dead?"

"I wasn't dead. I was in a medically induced coma." Eddie's voice is rough from disuse, not to mention the days he'd spent on the ventilator.

Buck pulls up a chair to the edge of Eddie's bed and grabs the little cup off the tray, forcibly feeding Eddie some ice chips that would hopefully help with the throat soreness. Buck rolls his eyes and grumbles, "Same fucking difference. God, it's good to see you awake. You still look like a fucking corpse, though."

"Fuck you, Buckley."

"I think the medical staff advise against that until you're physically recovered a bit more." Buck says it before the words hit his brain-to-mouth filter, but he revels in self-satisfaction when Eddie has the grace to blush.

Eddie clears his throat. "What were you saying about Taylor Kelly? Not my favorite name to hear straight out of a coma."

Buck rolls his eyes again. "I made a fucking joke about dating her, just to get a reaction from you, and you actually woke up. That's what."

"Pettiness prevails," Eddie murmurs, arching his eyebrow at Buck, earning a soft chuckle. The pair sit in silence for a few minutes, and Buck gently takes Eddie's hand in his own, rubbing his thumb against Eddie's open palm the way he had when Eddie was still unconscious. Eddie looks up at Buck from under his eyelashes, surprised by the action and a little bashful, but right now Buck is too relieved to care.

"God, it's so good to see you awake." Buck says again meaningfully, squeezing Eddie's hand in his.

Eddie averts his gaze and pulls his hand back; something in his expression changes a fraction. "Wait, what are you even doing here? We're in—we're in El Paso, right?" There's a note of uncertainty and fear in his tone.

Buck sends him a crooked little grin. "Of course I came. My best friend was in a car accident, not to mention in a coma. No matter what happens between us, Eds, I'll always come. You should know that. Even if you go no contact. I'll always be here for you."

Eddie lowers his chin even more, and Buck swallows when he sees the tears leaking down his cheeks. Buck has to force himself not to reach out and catch one of the many teardrops in his palm and brush them away from his face.

"How long…"

"Well, I've been here about two weeks, give or take," Buck admits. "Chris called me, and I hopped on the first flight to El Paso. If you find a few of your shirts are stretched out now—well, it wasn't me."

Eddie groans half-heartedly, wiping away all traces of wetness from his face and eyes before looking at Buck and casting him a tiny smile. So Buck sits and talks, and for the first time in weeks, Eddie speaks back. Their discussion is light-hearted, and they chat until Eddie begins to get drowsy. At some point a nurse comes in to let them know that Eddie will be getting moved out of the ICU and to an upper floor in a few hours.

Buck glances at the phone, remembering the existence of time for the first time since Eddie woke up. "Chris will be getting out of school soon. Are you up for a visitor?"

"Does he even want to see me?" Eddie says, shaking his head. Buck swears that his heart cracks in his chest.

"Eddie, God—of course he does. Trust me, he's been insisting on visiting you at least a few times a week. We've actually been staying at yours, Chris and I both."

Eddie seems startled by the revelation. "Really?"

Buck kind of laughs sheepishly, "A lot has happened. But maybe that's a conversation for tomorrow? I'll bring Chris by to see you. And then we can let the rest of your family know. How does that sound? I don't want to overwhelm you with visitors first thing."

"That sounds really good," Eddie says meaningfully. "See you soon?"

"See you soon," Buck agrees. And out of muscle memory, rather than conscious thought, Buck leans forward and presses a light kiss to Eddie's eyebrow like he has almost every day since he's arrived in El Paso. Buck steps back, surprised by himself, realizing exactly what he's done. Before he can flee, though, Eddie grabs his hand, and Buck goes still.

"Buck, wait—"

"Maybe we should talk about this tomorrow too." Buck's heart is in his throat, but Eddie shakes his head, and Buck stands very still, panic shrinking his lungs; he can practically feel them withering away.

"I'm still… I'm still a little foggy," Eddie admits, searching Buck's face for…well, something. Buck isn't sure what. "But I didn't cut contact with you because…"

"Eddie," Buck says so very gently, his heart racing, and Buck is too frightened to process whatever Eddie might say to him next. He needs a second—a second to catch his breath, to regain his bearings, to—well, Buck isn't sure. He just knows he can't bear the idea of rejection of any nature; he's too fragile right now. "Whatever the reason is, I understand. It can wait."

"It really can't," Eddie insists forcefully, his voice rougher than ever. Buck might throw up. He couldn't bear it if Eddie asked him to leave—he couldn't, not now, he can't…. "When I left LA, I was forced to confront some very real feelings I didn't quite understand at the time. Not until it was too late. Because, I mean…at the time I didn't know if I would be coming back, coming home. To you. And thinking about you rattling around in our house, well, it made me feel insane, and I thought if I just had some space…then it might make these feelings easier? Make them feel…less vast, maybe?"

Buck is confused; the words swim through his ears and brain almost nonsensically. Surely Eddie didn't mean what Buck thought he meant—no, he couldn't get his hopes up, not about this. Not about Eddie. It would break him if he was wrong. "What are you saying, Eddie?"

"Look, I know we don't have a lot of time right now—or maybe even time to process any of this. But when I was in that wreck, all I could fucking think was that I would never get the chance to tell you that I'm in love with you. And I need to say it now because…I mean, I was on my way to pick Chris up from school, and it just…happened. Anything could happen at any time, and I either need to tell you now or never—but I love you, Buck. I'm in love with you."

Buck feels his breath catch in his chest. "Eddie—"

"And I don't even know if you feel the same way, but you're—you're my family. Just like Maddie and Chimney and Jee-Yun, or Hen and Karen and Denny and Mara. Or even Bobby and Athena, their kids—you, you're my family unit. You, me, and Chris. And I didn't quite understand the depth of that until you weren't around every corner, so I guess I'm sorry."

Buck thinks that his ears might be ringing, and it takes him a moment to muster up enough air to speak. "Me too. I mean—you. I love you." Eddie goes soft around the edges with affection, shoulders slumping with visible relief.

"I guess in a way I knew, deep down. Maybe I've known for a while, and I've just been too scared to acknowledge this thing between us outright. And I mean, I guess not just anyone will fly halfway across the US at the drop of the hat because a kid asks them to."

"Our kid," Buck corrects almost on reflex; he feels himself flush when he says it. "That's something I've made very clear to your mother. That we're co-parents. I hope that wasn't overstepping."

"Our kid," Eddie repeats, like he's relishing the statement. "I can only imagine the face she made; I can't wait to hear all about it." His voice is laced with amusement.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll give you the play-by-play. We've got a lot of catching up to do. I practiced most of my material while you were in your coma."

"Just as long as it doesn't put me back in a coma," Eddie jokes. "Now go pick up our kid before visiting hours are over."

Buck nods and laughs; he steps up to the bed and presses his palm against Eddie's cheek. Eddie's eyes flutter shut, and he leans into the touch. Buck tenderly kisses his eyebrow one last time before heading for the door. "See you soon." He glances over his shoulder one last time, smiling widely at Eddie—and for the first time since Eddie left for Texas all those months ago, Buck truly thinks everything might be okay.

+++

When Buck pulls into the parent pickup zone, Chris beams widely at him. Buck rolls down the window and greets the teacher with a wave. The man smiles and waves back. Buck had gotten to know most of Chris's teachers rather quickly; they were all curious about the new guy picking up Chris. "Need any help, kiddo?"

"Nah," Chris says, but allows Buck to toss his backpack and crutches in the backseat as he settles himself in the passenger seat.

"How was school?"

"Good. I got an A+ and extra credit on my PTSD presentation, by the way."

"That's awesome, Chris. You definitely deserved it." Buck grins at the kid, who looks pretty damn proud of himself. The expression turns to confusion when Buck turns left instead of right.

"Where are we going?"

"I figured we could go visit your dad."

Chris brightens further. "I brought home a book to read to him!" He turns and happily tells Buck about it, and Buck can only breathe a long sigh of relief. Life was finally going back to normal. When Chris eventually falls silent, Buck glances over at him.

To keep Chris from stewing, Buck prompts him. "What's going on in that head of yours? Moving your bishop to E3 or something? How is chess club going anyway?"

Chris snorts and rolls his eyes, "You're stupid. Also, it's not. I'm quitting."

"Really?"

"I hate chess. I've hated chess. It made Abuelo happy, though, and right now I'm kind of pissed at them. So I'm not going to keep pretending to like it for their sake." Chris frowns a little, his expression crumbling suddenly. "That's okay, right?"

"If you hate it, I'm not going to force you to go back. Is that what's really going on, though?"

Chris hesitates, averting his eyes. "That presentation. I guess it made me think about everything differently."

"Okay," Buck ventures.

"Sometimes I forget that…well, I guess I forget that he's a person too. Just like me."

"Well, we're only human. We all make mistakes; we all mess up sometimes," Buck agrees. "And as much as they'd like to be, parents aren't infallible."

"You are, you know."

"What?" Buck says, confused.

"One of my parents. Like Mom and Dad…"

Buck reaches out and ruffles his hair, fighting down tears. "Well, I couldn't have a better kid."

“Even though I ran?”

"You did what was best for you at the time. I can't fault you for that, Chris. Besides you and your dad, were both very fragile—Kim overrode his boundaries, and your Dad already wasn't at his peak mentally, so to speak.

"Because of his PTSD," Chris recognizes aloud. "He wasn't himself."

"He wanted to give you agency that his parents never allowed him. Space to heal."

Chris fidgets quietly for a moment. "I wanted to come home sooner. I was just too scared to ask."

"Well," Buck reassures. "When it comes to your Dad, just remember that no matter how badly you might mess up, or no matter what happens between the two of you—at the end of the day, he loves you. We both do. And I think this is a conversation you should have with your dad. You both left a lot of things unsaid—and he's just as scared as you. He was terrified of losing you for good. That's the thing about parents—their love should be unconditional, and that's all Eddie's ever wanted for you."

"He moved to Texas for me, even though he knew he'd be miserable here." Chris's voice is thick with tears. "And all I cared about was making sure it hurt him."

"Unfortunately, the people we love are the ones we usually end up hurting the most. That doesn't mean you don't love him. You know, through the years, even Eddie and I have had our moments; it happens. In time we learn to move past it all. Right?"

"We move past," Chris echoes, considering. "What—what if he doesn't want to talk about it? I don't want to upset him."

"Well, I've talked to Eddie about it, and I know for certain he would like to discuss all of this with you—the only reason he hasn't is because he was trying not to upset you. You two are too much alike for your own good," Buck teases. "Sensitive subjects can be difficult to face if it's too soon, and no matter what—even if a conversation is upsetting for your dad, he'll always want to have it. If it matters to you, it matters to him. Understand?"

"Yeah," Chris agrees. Buck nods and pulls up in front of the hospital. Chris looks confused as he climbs out, dragging his crutches with him. He pauses and grabs his book out of his backpack, handing it to Buck to carry. "Where are we?"

"They moved your dad out of the ICU," Buck explains.

"That's good, right?" Chris asks, face brightening.

"That's right," Buck agrees. "Really, really good. Ready to head inside?"

Chris, though, doesn't wait; he takes off, crutches moving quickly across the even sidewalk. He beelines straight for the front doors, and Buck can only smile.

Eddie POV

Eddie hears Chris's voice before he sees him. He's talking away at Buck, the way he did when he was happy and relaxed. It draws a smile to Eddie's face, and he's flooded with emotion. He swallows hard; he can't wait to wrap his kid in a bone-crushing hug. To smell his shampoo, to hear his laugh, and see his goofy smile. The conversation sounded like it involved some drama between his classmate and math teacher. Eddie's stomach squeezes; it hasn't been all that long since the last time he heard his son's voice—well, not in the awake sense—but it also felt like a lifetime.

There's movement, and Eddie watches Buck pause in the doorway—probably making sure that he was awake before letting his son into the room. "Did you know that my science teacher thought you and Dad were married?" Chris says from outside the hospital room. "Buck, can you move already?"

Eddie feels himself blush, and he holds back a laugh at Buck's deer-in-the-headlights expression. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time we've earned that presumption. You know, it probably would have saved us both a lot of time and heartache in the long run," Eddie considers aloud in amusement, smiling at Buck, who blushes bashfully and smiles back, stepping out of the way so Chris could enter the room.

"Dad?!" Chris exclaims, seeming to register his voice all at once. He stops dead in the doorway and stares at Eddie, jaw dropped wide open in disbelief. "You're awake?"

"Last I checked."

Chris crosses the room in a flash, tossing his crutches, practically throwing himself on top of Eddie, who is unable to hold in the little wheeze of pain. Because, yeah, ouch. But the day he told his son to stop hugging him was the day he was already dead, so he holds his son as tightly as possible, pain be damned.

"Don't be an asshole, Dad." Chris says into his shoulder. His glasses dig awkwardly into Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie gently strokes a hand through his son's hair.

“Language.” Eddie says, but he barely cares, barely means it.

"Stop trying to die on us, then," Chris grumbles. When he finally settles down and his tears slow, Chris climbs off the bed and settles into the chair that Buck pulls up for him.

The mattress dips a little, and on Eddie's other side, Buck sits halfway on the bed since there was only one chair in the room. Buck reaches out, gently cupping the side of Eddie's face.

He runs his thumb over Eddie's cheekbone, wiping away tears that Eddie hadn't even realized fell. Chris appears completely unfazed by the action.

"You really did give us quite the scare," Buck agrees, casting a look over at Chris.

"Do Grandma and Abuelo know yet?" Chris inquires.

Eddie glances at his son, detecting the dread in his tone, the same dread that was usually nestled in his own rib cage, and Eddie really wonders about the ins and outs of what had taken place over the last few weeks. It reminds him of something Buck touched on earlier, and based on his expression, the two of them would probably have a long conversation about all of it when Chris wasn't within earshot.

"Not yet. I wanted you and me to spend some time with him before involving Helena. Give your dad some time to breathe.

"Well, before you do see them—I want to go back to LA. And they think I already told you that before your wreck. Sorry that I lied. To them I mean, I do actually want to go back to LA as soon as you're better."

"Okay," Eddie agrees, head spinning by the flippancy in his son's voice. He's thankful Buck had given him some warning.

"Your grandparents tend to bring the liar out in everyone." Buck grumbles under his breath.

"She lied first, anyway," Chris points out unhappily.

"Uh, do I want to know?" Eddie asks, eyes flickering between the pair.

“You and I can talk about it soon,” Buck promises.

Chris looks meaningfully at Eddie. "That's code for 'he won't talk shit about Grandma in front of me,'" Chris informs him like he wasn't perfectly aware of exactly what Buck meant.

"Are we going to have to invest in a swear jar?" Eddie teases. Hearing his son swear is a strange and foreign phenomenon. It's another reminder of how quickly Chris was growing up.

"Only if you want me to absolutely rinse you and Buck of every dollar you make," Chris snarks back.

"How about I give you two a minute alone?" Buck suggests. "I need to call everyone back home to let them know you woke up. And I still need to let Adriana and Sophia know that you're conscious and seem to be mentally all there, although I'm not sure you ever were in the first place."

"Watch yourself, Buckley." Eddie elbows him affectionately.

"You two are gross," Chris groans, half-heartedly.

Eddie watches Buck disappear out the door and presumably down the hallway; he returns his attention to his son, who is watching him carefully.

"So Buck mentioned that the two of you have been staying at the house."

"I'm sorry for not coming home sooner; I was mad and petty."

"That place is a bit of a shithole still anyway. I don't blame you," Eddie teases lightheartedly.

Chris rolls his eyes, "I meant to LA."

Eddie feels his face fall. There's a pit in his stomach when he sees the guilt riddling his son's face. "You're allowed space when you need it. I won't hold that against you."

"I know, I guess part of me just thought that it seemed like you and Buck were doing fine without me," Chris confesses. "Buck told me that wasn't true, and so did my therapist, but I should have been honest with you a lot sooner."

"I think we could both work on our communication skills," Eddie admits to his son.

"I should have come to El Paso sooner, but I wanted to give you space if that's what you needed. But Bobby pointed out that I over corrected while not wanting to be overbearing or make you feel pressured."

"So you didn't want to be like Grandma?" Chris points out.

Eddie laughs a little sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "Well…"

"I never understood…" Chris says, and Eddie looks up at his son. There's something thoughtful and serious about his tone. "Well, I never understood what they were like to you. I know your relationship is difficult. But I didn't see it, not until all of this happened and Grandma…" Chris doesn't seem to know what to say. "Well, I kind of think I get it now. Why you avoid them."

“I don’t avoid—” Eddie feels guilt rest heavily in his stomach; he hates that he's dragged his son into this—projected his own feelings upon him. Chris deserved to have a relationship with his grandparents without Eddie's judgment clouding things.

“Dad." Eddie falls silent, studying his sons face. Chris's expression is conflicted before he speaks again. "Why didn't you ever say anything?”Eddie desperately wishes he had the context of the last couple weeks to help him through this conversation.

Eddie opens his mouth a few times, trying to decide how to proceed. "It didn't feel fair for me to tell you how you should feel about your grandparents. Especially since you have a vastly different relationship than the one I had with them. I wanted you to decide their place in your life, and I never wanted to positively or negatively affect that due to my own relationship with them."

"Okay, I guess I get it," Chris says after a moment. "Buck said something to me about your love being unconditional. I hurt you on purpose by leaving, and all you did was forgive me. I guess you never had that with them. I don't think that's fair. I love you too, no matter what."

Eddie feels like he's been punched in the gut. He opens his arms and scoots over, and Chris climbs up beside him and rests his head on Eddie's chest like he had when he was smaller and younger. Eddie kisses his temple and rubs a hand over his back in a soothing gesture. "I will love you until the end of time. I need you to hear me and believe me when I say that."

"I do," Chris promises, voice muffled against Eddie's t-shirt.

The rest of the afternoon is spent talking. They talk about all of it—about Shannon, Kim, and Marisol; about LA, about his complicated relationship with Helena and Ramon growing up. They cry, they grieve, and they laugh. They talk about Buck, and for the first time, Eddie calls himself what he is—gay. It's strange and cathartic, and tears pour down his face. Chris simply smiles and hugs him.

"It makes sense to me; you've always loved him." Chris says it like it's simple.

Eddie had smiled and said, "I guess I have."

They talk about PTSD, and Chris pulls up his presentation on his cellphone and tells Eddie all about it. He's in awe of his smart little boy and his emotional depth. Eddie tells him about that night, about learning that his entire team was dead and buried—how he'd been terrified when he felt like he'd lost control, locking his door and punching holes in the wall. In return, Chris tells him more about the tsunami, more than Eddie thinks he ever knew before.

They talk about firefighting and when Eddie quit and joined dispatch and how that was another example of how their lack of communication often leads to the wrong assumptions on both ends—and yeah, Chris agrees, "I think Buck is right that you and I are too alike for our own good." Eddie feels himself laugh and shake his head, because Buck truly wasn't wrong.

And for the first time in years, Eddie feels like he can truly breathe, like he can talk to his son without walking on eggshells.

"Do you want to talk about what happened with your grandparents?" Eddie offers, "You mentioned that Grandma lied?"

"Not really. I'd rather you and Buck talk about it."

"Okay, I'll make sure Buck fills me in on everything then." Eddie agrees. He hesitates, "So, should we talk about this? What happened? Only if you want to."

Chris wets his lips and averts his eyes, fidgeting again. "There's not much to talk about, is there? I mean, I knew something was wrong when you were late to pick me up. You're never late to pick me up, even when we lived in LA with traffic. And if you are, you always text. Always."

Eddie feels the weight of it settle like a stone in his stomach. "I was running late. I lost track of time."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Okay, by how much? Like five minutes? Buck is chronically late, and you're chronically early. To you, on time is late."

"That's the army medic in me."

Chris smiles a little, glancing up at his father. "Yeah, that or the anxiety disorder."

“Hey—!”

“It’s your fault I am the way I am! Take it up with yourself.” Chris replies, and Eddie laughs, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah. Fine, at most I was going to be 5 minutes late. And actually, if I hadn't gotten t-boned, I probably would have been right on time.”

"Knew it," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "So, yeah, I knew that when you weren't there, something was wrong." Eddie frowns when Chris visibly hesitates, guilt flashing over his features. "I asked them if you went back to LA. I thought…"

"Oh, Chris," Eddie whispers. "I wouldn't—I would have never. Not unless it was an emergency, and never permanently."

"And like, of course I know that. My brain was just being an asshole, but at the time…it made sense since I was being stubborn that you wanted to go home. They were both giving you hell every waking moment… And then…" Chris takes a deep breath. "Grandma tried to tell me that you did go back there—and I immediately didn't believe her, and Abuelo even corrected her. It was pissing me off because she was being extra happy, and instead of us going home or checking on you, she forced us to go get ice cream."

There are tears in Chris's eyes again and Eddie's chest threatens to split right in half.

"We passed the wreck. I didn't recognize your truck, but I just…had this awful feeling in my stomach. And then we got the call, and neither of them would let me see you." Chris wipes at tears that are falling freely now. And then I saw all the pictures on the news, and I saw your truck, and…"

"Chris…"

"I know, I know. You and Buck always tell me not to, but I snuck in while they were watching the news. But like, no one would tell me anything because they don't tell me stuff—not like you and Buck. I barely found out anything until Adriana and Sophia got here, and then Tía Adri kept me in the loop as much as possible." There are a few moments of heavy silence. "What did happen?"

"To be completely honest, I don't really remember entirely," Eddie admits. "But from the pieces I've put together and from what police and doctors have told me…based on witness and traffic cams, I rolled forward when the light turned green, but someone in another car was running the red light and t-boned me in the intersection."

"Were you scared?"

"Terrified. And I was really pissed that they were making me late."

Chris laughs and rolls his eyes but sobers a moment later. "When I found out what happened, I was scared what would happen to me if you did…" Chris's voice breaks. "I didn't want to stay with them."

Buck clears his throat to announce his entrance. Eddie nods, wordlessly asking for Buck to join them.

"Well, maybe it's time we also have that conversation."

Chris grimaces, "I found out about the will already. I was eavesdropping on Buck and Adriana while he thought I was taking a nap." Eddie's eyebrows go up, and Buck smiles at Eddie sheepishly.

"So that works for you then? If something happened to me, you'll go with Buck?"

"You're not allowed to let anything happen to you," Chris says severely. "Either of you. But yeah, I would want to be with him if… But that's not allowed; neither of you is allowed to die. Okay? "Or else," Chris threatens cryptically before turning to Buck. "You're never allowed to leave if you're going to—if you're going to be with Dad. You have to stay with us forever. Promise?"

Buck holds out his pinky. "Forever." His expression is so serious and sincere it makes Eddie's chest ache. Chris locks their pinkies together. It's a gesture Eddie has only seen him do with his sister and it makes Eddie feel so fucking warm and fuzzy that this, this is his family.

Buck checks the time and sighs. "Alright, well, visiting hours ended awhile ago, so I should probably get this one home to eat dinner." Buck nudges Chris, who nudges him back. "And I guess I should give your parents a call. Unless you want to?"

Chris looks surprised, eyebrows going up when he and Eddie both simultaneously realize it's a little after 8. Buck and Chris have already been there more than four hours; the time had literally flown.

"Well," Eddie smirks at Buck. "I think that I'll leave those dubious honors up to you. You know, as a perk of being the one hit by a car."

"Thanks for that," Buck agrees before leaning down to kiss Eddie's eyebrow. "See you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, tomorrow." Eddie echoes squeezing Buck's hand.

"Love you," Chris says, gathering his crutches. "We'll pack the house up for when you can leave. Right, Buck?" Before even waiting for an answer, Chris hugs his dad and makes a beeline for the door.

"You can wait for me," Eddie tells Buck in amusement.

"You've barely unpacked in the first place; besides, I actually packed a lot away while I was doing some of the home renovations. I'd be happy to throw more stuff in boxes."

"Your choice. You'll come by while Chris is in school?"

"Will do," Buck agrees. He allows Eddie to pull him to a stop, and they kiss chastely. From the doorway, Chris makes a fake vomiting noise. "He's your kid," Buck accuses Eddie before kissing him affectionately one last time and following Chris out the door.

+++

"Good morning." Buck practically singsongs the words, and Eddie wants to groan or sigh because he's exhausted after a long night of being poked and prodded by nurses at random hours of the night. But before he has the chance, Eddie realizes that Buck is holding a bag of pastries from the Mexican bakery around the corner.

"Oh, I could kiss you right now," Eddie informs Buck, reaching out for the bag eagerly. He hasn't been conscious long, but he's sick and fucking tired of hospital food already. Buck pulls up a chair to the side of Eddie's bed and looks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes with a shy smile.

"Well, nothing is stopping you, last I checked," Buck reasons, allowing Eddie to pull him in for a gentle kiss.

Buck hands him a coffee next, and the noise Eddie makes is practically animalistic; he pops the top off and drinks in the scent. He's fucking missed coffee.

"Sorry, should I give you two a moment alone?" Buck teases, separating their pastries on Eddie's tray. "Also, before you have sweets, eat your breakfast torta, yeah?"

"Fine," Eddie agrees after a few gulps of piping hot coffee. "Did you get Chris to school okay?"

"Yeah. Also, I wanted to let you know that I let his teachers and the secretary know that Chris will be finishing the year out in LA. I hope that's okay."

"Perfect," Eddie said, waving him off, frankly relieved he wouldn't have to deal with the headache himself. "Trust me, Buck. No one is more ready to get the hell out of El Paso than I am."

"Actually, your son might have you beat. He's ready to flee Texas the moment you're out of the hospital. We discussed shipping you Fed-Ex. Like a mummy."

Eddie, who has been happily shoveling his sandwich into his mouth until now, snorts in amusement. He pauses and gives Buck a once-over, remembering his sons remarks the day before. "Right…we should probably talk about that while Chris is at school. You mentioned a few things, and Chris said a few odd things yesterday, but he said he'd rather if I just talked to you about it." Eddie's not actually entirely sure he's ready to have this conversation, but he's tired of all the mystery.

"Right, we should talk about Helena," Buck agrees with a grimace, which doesn't bode well.

"Speak," Eddie says, returning to devouring his sandwich before he surely loses his appetite over however his parents had wronged Chris.

"Well, the first thing you need to know is that since moving to Texas, she's been pressuring him into staying by planting the idea in his head that you might be happier without him."

Eddie feels his stomach swoop. He remembers Chris's words yesterday: 'my brain was being an asshole'. The thought hadn't sprung from thin air; it had been a whispered lie that had obviously broken Chris's self-esteem and mentally undermined his relationship with him.

"And like, I wasn't there, so I can't confirm, but…" Eddie's stomach aches at the very thought; his mother has been trying to strip Eddie's parenthood away from him for years. The revelation depressingly doesn't surprise Eddie in the slightest. "I also know that Helena limited Chris's phone usage to some extent." Buck takes a deep breath, and Eddie braces himself, because whatever Buck was about to tell him would probably wound. "When you got into the wreck, no one contacted me, despite Chris asking them to. And so he couldn't reach out to me himself for a while after the accident. I got the call from him at midnight, and I knew before I picked up that something was wrong."

Eddie tries to still his shaking hands; they tremor with anger, sadness, and fury. When Chris first moved to El Paso, Eddie had outlined strict rules for them to follow, yet his mother crossed all the lines and boundaries he set, time and time again. Eddie had specifically stated that Chris was to have his phone so he could contact him, Buck, 911, or the 118 at all times. That part had been non-negotiable.

"To my understanding, though, she didn't start that until after the accident. I think she didn't want me to find out what had happened."

"God, that pisses me off," Eddie says sharply, and Buck sends him a sympathetic look.

"Also…you should know that she filed for custody of Chris—I'm sure it'll be invalid now that you've woken up, but I already have a lawyer on retainer in the event the case goes to court.

"Of course she did," Eddie mumbles, scrubbing his hands over his eyes in exhaustion.

"And Helena and I have kind of had it out?" She wasn't happy that Chris picked to stay with me over her, and I told her in no uncertain terms that I'm your co-parent and that Chris is my kid too. So, sorry in advance for whatever conversation that spurs.

“Anything else?” Eddie asks.

“Oh, she did threaten to call the police when I pulled Chris out of school, and she raised a fuss about me taking him back to see you.”

“And with all that context, how did the conversation last night go?”

"Fine, actually. I called your dad directly. Speaking of, did Pepa and Abuela stop by? They told me they wanted to.”

"Not yet, but Pepa texted to let me know that she'd visit me around lunchtime."

"Good," Buck said with a smile. "Oh, and by the way, I ran into your doctor on the way up. She told me that you'll need some PT but that they can refer us to a specialist in LA. And as long as you keep up with your PT, you shouldn't have any issues returning to firefighting once they clear you.

Eddie breathes out a sigh of relief, "What would I do without you?"

Buck leans into his space with a grin, pressing a kiss to his mouth. "I ask myself that every day, Diaz."

"Watch it, Buckley," Eddie flirts back. Goddamn, he loves this man.

Buck POV

Buck is quick to leave the hospital after their conversation. He wanted to steer clear of other possible visitors that didn't go by Pepa or Abuela. The extra free time, though, is maddening, leading Buck to work on more home renovation projects.

Adriana drops by for dinner, and afterward, while Chris works on homework, she helps him with landscaping and planting out front. She uses the back of her arm to wipe sweat away, smearing dirt across her forehead. "Eddie isn't going to recognize this place when he comes home. Got any idea how long he'll have to stay for?"

"Doctor says just a few more days, actually." Buck explains, shoveling mulch from the giant heap in the driveway to their designated spot on the weed barrier. When he gives up finishing the task, Adriana goes inside to wash up so she can make it to the hospital before the visiting hours end.

Shortly after she leaves, calling, "Thanks for dinner." Before disappearing out the front door.

"Video games?" Buck asks a short while later, once Chris has finished his assignments. Chris beams and follows him into the other room. They're an hour into Borderlands 2 when Chris clears his throat.

"Thanks for coming down here when I called. I know you didn't have to come quickly, or even at all. Plus, you've been away from work for, like, weeks, and he ended up being okay anyways, so I'm sorry if I wasted your time or whatever."

The apology draws Buck up short. He pauses the game and sets his remote aside to fix the teenager with a serious expression.

"Chris, you and your father will never be a waste of my time. I came out here because I wanted to support you, of course. But also because I love you and your dad. I want to be here. Besides, the department is probably glad I'm using up all those vacation days Bobby usually has to shout at me to take."

"And although I wish that the circumstances were different and that your father wasn't hurt—well, there isn't anywhere else I'd rather be. LA is home, of course it is… But so are you and your dad. You guys make it home; you are my home."

"That's corny," Chris says, looking away, trying to disguise the emotion in his tone.

"Good, it's my job as one of your parental units to be as cringe as possible," Buck retorts. Chris rests his head against Buck's shoulder.

"I love you."

Buck nearly fucking melts through the floor, full of affection. "I love you too. I'm glad you called me, and I'll come rescue you from El Paso anytime you need."

"Never again, I hope."

"Yeah," Buck laughs. "I hope so too."

+++

Eddie POV

Eddie is dozing when he's woken by a light knock on the door of his hospital room. "Come in," Eddie rasps. He's surprised to see Adriana poke her head in before fully stepping inside; she pushes the door shut behind her. "Sorry, just making sure that Mom isn't here before I commit to stepping in."

"Laughable since she hasn't come to visit me since I woke up. I'm pretty sure she was rooting for all the doctors to declare me brain dead so she could take Chris all for herself, once and for all.

“That’s a little dark.” Adriana considers.

“It’s a little bit true, you’ve got to admit.”

Adriana makes a face but seems to agree with his assessment. "If you had said that to me a few weeks ago, I might have tried to defend her. But after seeing her behavior the past few weeks…well. You're pretty damn on the nose with that one."

"The slow realization that she was explicitly not happy I was here was a brutal one," Eddie admits.

"Hey, maybe that car that t-boned you was an assassin."

Eddie laughs, smacking at her. "Don't make me laugh; it hurts." After a moment he sobers, "By the way, Buck told me about everything you did for Chris. Thanks for looking after him."

"Anything for my nephew," Adriana teases.

"I'm serious, Adriana. Thank you. I genuinely can't stress that enough." His little sister looks uncomfortable with the earnestness in his tone, but Eddie needs her to hear him. "You protected Chris when we couldn't. You gave him agency when he felt like his life was spinning out of control."

Adriana still doesn't seem to know how to respond, so instead she echoes, "We? You're a 'we' now?"

"I think that Buck and I have been a 'we' longer than either of us realized," Eddie points out.

"But you've made the 'we' official now. Officially?"

"What better way to ensure that Chris never falls into Helena's hands than through marriage?"

"Ah, yes. A marriage of convenience. No feelings involved at all."

"Oh, shut up."

"The man has flipped your entire house and contacted a lawyer to gain custody of your son, Eddie."

"I mean, yeah. There are feelings involved. And to some extent there have always been feelings involved. It just took me a little extra time to figure out the whole 'I'm gay' thing."

"Well, I think our parents had a hand in that."

“You think so?” Eddie says sarcastically, but he’s caught off guard by the gentle look Adriana sends him.

“Come on, Eddie. Don't play dumb; you and I both know Buck wasn’t your first crush on a boy. You just learned to bury it when we were kids.”

Eddie stares at her dumbfounded. “What? Who—”

“There was that kid on the swim team, Ari or something. You two used to hang out all the time. That always felt a little more than strictly platonic. Mom got weird about him, and you two stopped hanging out.”

Eddie stares at her astonished. “I’ve never… Oh.” He feels his stomach flip-flop as he thinks back on that fragile time. The shame he'd shoved down so deep, the guilt, the tingling in his skin when their shoulders brushed.

"Back then I just thought that maybe you were bi because of Shannon. But you've had a total lack of chemistry with every woman you've been with. But…but when you're around Buck, well, I've never seen you like that with anyone. I can see it so clearly in photos, videos, all of it. You're you when you're with him."

Eddie picks at extra skin around one of his nails instead of looking at Adriana. "He makes me feel safe, and I know he loves Chris the way I do. And…he's home."

“I’m glad you found that,” Adriana says meaningfully, her voice so soft it nearly bruises.
“I’m glad to finally meet Buck in person. I really like him for you. Pepa and Abuela adore him. So does Chris. He’s a good one. Don’t let him go.”

“I don’t plan to,” Eddie agrees.

“So Mom really hasn’t come? What about Dad?”

He’s been around twice. He stayed for a few hours. Feels normal but also tense because Mom’s absence is so…. Well, you get it.”

“Yeah,” Adriana agrees with a sigh. “I get it. So what’s next for you?”

“Back to LA,” Eddie says easily. “We'll sell the house, and Buck was still subletting from me in LA anyway. Chris has already been asking how soon we can leave. What about you?”

“Back home for me too, Chris was the only reason I was sticking around. I’ve been working remotely, but I’ll probably head back tomorrow. I’ll come see you before I leave. Maybe once you are all settled back in, I could come visit before you’re back at work.”
“I’d like that,” Eddie agrees.

Adriana smiles, “Me too.”

Chapter Text

Eddie POV

Eddie is allowed home from the hospital much faster than he expects he will be after a month long coma. Not that he isn't grateful, of course. They keep him a few extra days for observation, then Buck is allowed to pack him up and take him home, albeit with a laundry list of strict orders like lifting restrictions, bed-rest, and medications.

Luckily for Eddie, who will never not hate hospitals, when the discharge order is given, Buck is already sitting at his bedside. His best friend happily fills out all additional paperwork on Eddie's behalf. Eddie is content, if not downright relieved, to allow him to do so, perfectly comfortable to simply sign along the lines Buck points him to.

He knows he can count on Buck to be extremely thorough the way he always was when it came to other people's health. And besides, Buck probably had 90% of this damn paperwork memorized by now.

Chris is waiting for them in the lobby when Buck wheels him into the visitors' lounge. They're both greeted by Pepa and Abuela, who smile and wave, approaching as soon as they're sighted. Chris leans over to give him a hug in greeting; Eddie presses a kiss to the side of his son's head, earning a groan and a couple feet of distance, which only makes all the adults laugh.

Eddie catches Pepa's attention when Buck heads towards the doors to move his rental truck closer to the building, Chris and Abuela drifting with him as they chat.

"You look good," Pepa says, her eyes searching his face. "The doctors are sure you're okay?"

"As okay as I can be," Eddie agrees. "Besides, with Buck taking care of me, you don't need to worry. He's more strict than the hospital staff. Pretty sure he's already committed all aftercare instructions to memory."

"Oh, I have no doubt that Evancito will take good care of you." There is something gentle and teasing in her tone, and Eddie feels himself flush pink. "He's as good for you as you are for him. He makes you happy. Don't worry about what your parents have to say."

"Speaking of my parents, Buck and I are going to have dinner with them. I'm having the Chris conversation with them tonight, about them overstepping in my relationship with my son. I was wondering if you would be able to have him for dinner? Then maybe after dinner you could stop by with him for dessert?"

"Of course," Pepa agrees immediately. "We'd be happy to."

"Thanks, Pepa. For everything, seriously."

"Well, you always were my favorite nephew." That makes Eddie laugh. She glances meaningfully at Buck, who is approaching with his adoring entourage. "I'll see the three of you in a bit." She leans down to kiss Eddie's temple, and Abuela gives him a quick hug, patting his cheek gently.

"Looks like he's our problem now," Buck tells Chris, who smirks and leads the way to the door.

Eddie takes big gulps of fresh air the moment they're outside. The sun is warm on his face—he'd forgotten just how sweet fresh air was after an eternity of stale hospital air. Eddie climbs into the passenger seat with Buck's steadying help, while their son settles himself in the back. Chris is talking a million miles an hour about a video game Buck and Adriana had been playing with him, and Eddie is so relieved things are going back to normal—if a few tears slip out while no one is paying attention, well, no one has to know.

After returning Eddie's discharge wheelchair, Buck climbs into the driver's seat, turns the keys in the ignition, and throws the vehicle in reverse. When Buck backs out of the parking spot, he puts a hand on Eddie's headrest as he carefully watches over his shoulder for other vehicles and pedestrians. Eddie can't take his eyes off of him or how right it feels that Buck is here in El Paso with them. A missing piece of the puzzle.

Maybe this was where Buck was meant to be all along… Should Eddie have invited him along all those months ago? Was that even Eddie's place? He's also certain that even if Buck had the notion on his own to follow them, well, he'd never have brought it to Eddie's attention—too afraid to cross boundaries and overstep in Eddie's relationship with his son.

Eddie's beginning to realize that he's been framing it incorrectly in his mind all along, possibly in the pursuit of unknowingly denying his identity—then eventually, the fear of embracing it.

From the back seat, Chris speaks with a note of humor in his tone. "Dad's back to passenger princess status."

"What?" Eddie asks in confusion. When he glances over at Buck, his shoulders are shaking with mirth, and Eddie is immediately suspicious.

"It means that you'd rather have someone drive you around than drive yourself. And now that Buck's here, things are back to normal. You only drive whenever you have to. Even when you and Karen hang out, she always drives. So: Passenger Princess."

"Shut it, Kid," Eddie says, rolling his eyes. That earns a peal of giggles from the backseat. It's so joyful and carefree it makes Eddie's chest ache with happiness. "What are we even listening to anyway? What is this radio station?" Eddie leans forward to fiddle with the music.

"Oh, but when I flip through the radio stations, it's a problem?" Chris asks Buck accusatory. He points at his father, who smiles mock innocently. "And I rest my case, passenger princess."

"Sorry for not wanting to listen to Kids Bop," Buck answers with a smirk.

Chris makes an offended scoffing noise, "I don't listen to Kids Bop!"

"You know, maybe your Dad and I can sing a little something more your speed," Buck suggests, and Chris slaps his hands over his ears, not waiting to see what the pair would come up with.

With a single exchanged glance, they both burst into an obnoxious rendition of Baby Shark.

"I'll walk the rest of the way!" Chris shouts from the backseat while Eddie and Buck crack up.

The rest of the drive home, Eddie turns up some 80's rock station, and in the back, Chris grudgingly sings along with them.

When they drive up the path to their El Paso house, Eddie finds himself sitting forward and blinking in utter disbelief at the building in front of him that looks nothing like he remembers it. The lawn is perfectly manicured, and the outside of the house has been power washed and possibly even repainted. The overgrown plants have been trimmed or ripped out entirely, replaced with bushes and flowers.

Eddie turns to look at Buck, who is watching his expression carefully. "I think you pulled up outside the wrong house."

Buck shakes his head and laughs. "Your coma left me with too much free time. I tried to warn you."

Chris doesn't wait for either of them, the back door of the truck closing noisily with his exit. He was less than uninterested in the home improvements Eddie was busy admiring with outright disbelief.

Buck follows suit, grabbing Chris's unused wheelchair out of the covered truck bed. Eddie, on the other hand, is still frozen in place, choking on emotion. In Buck's downtime—that he could have spent doing literally anything else—he'd transformed the outside of the broken-down house into something livable. Into something that could even be considered a home.

Buck opens the passenger-side door for him and waits for Eddie to slide out of the truck. His legs are still a little weak, so Buck steadies him.

"Buck…" Eddie says, trailing off, because he doesn't have any other words prepared to say.

"Come on, let's get you inside before you keel over or something. You wouldn't want to scare your neighbors."

"My neighbors?" Eddie asks, sarcasm tinging his tone, because there isn't a single house nearby.

"Yeah, one of them has cows that come up to the edge of the fencing over there. They might think that you're one of them with your giant brown cow eyes. It would scare them!"

Eddie shoves Buck lightly, unable to hold down his grin before he makes for the front door. When he steps inside, he's blown away for the second time. He drifts through every room in disbelief, the paint is fresh, and in some areas the floor has been replaced. Long gone is the telltale sign of water damage. The hole in one of the walls has been fixed, and the doors are now all matching and uniform in shape and color. The hideous wallpaper is no more. And Buck has also apparently fixed the cabinets and shelves that were built into the walls—Eddie had been certain he'd have to hire a carpenter or something. If Eddie had to place bets, he'd bet that the leaky sink in the kitchen is no longer leaky.

"Buck. Where did you even get the money to…"

"Remember how I told you not to look at my credit score? Let's not talk about my Home Depot credit card." Buck jokes. "Besides, when you sell this place, you'll be getting back way more than you were originally going to pay for it."

"Sorry, I didn't know I was marrying a fucking house flipper."

"Marrying?" Buck asks, smirking slightly. Eddie feels heat crawl up his cheeks, and instead of answering, he continues to look around, hurrying into the next room. All his things are packed away in boxes, stacked along the walls where they wouldn't get in the way of Chris's crutches. The kitchen is under 'deconstruction' since Buck had apparently pulled out a lot of things while staying there, probably to cook for himself and Chris.

“Swear jar,” Chris shouts from his room.

"Whatever happened to 'we're not doing that'?" Eddie inquires, with such exasperation it apparently earns an affectionate kiss from Buck. He stops Eddie from moving to the next section of the house with a hand on his forearm.

His voice is quiet when he speaks, for privacy's sake. "I would, you know… Marry you."

Eddie flushes again but manages to look up at Buck. "It feels inevitable, right?"

"Yeah," Buck says, his voice so soft. "You and Chris are kinda it for me."

"Alright," Eddie says, straightening his shoulders, mind made up now that he's certain they're both on the same page, confidence growing. "So, once we get back to LA and get everything sorted, we have a courthouse wedding."

"It's funny that you genuinely think we're having a courthouse wedding. We will at least have to get married in someone's backyard. You realize that my sister would skin me alive if we got married without telling anyone. So would Sophia and Adriana for that matter."

"Fair enough," Eddie admits with a sheepish laugh. "I just—the sooner the better."

"Scared someone is gonna snatch me up?" Buck teases, "I don't just flip anyone's house. Promise."

"Shut up—it just… I feel like we've lost so much time. I love you, and I'm kind of ready for the whole world to know about it."

Buck grins, looking a little bashful. “I love you, too.” He presses a tender kiss to Eddie's lips. "You finish checking out the rest of the house while I keep packing. You are going to have a shower, then nap because unfortunately, if you remember correctly, you promised your Dad that you would meet them for dinner tonight.

“Right… I did say that—but do we have to?” Eddie asks, only half joking.

“Unfortunately,” Buck agrees. “As long as we want to keep your mother from filing kidnapping charges.”

“Fine,” Eddie says, pausing just long enough to kiss Buck again. He wants to start kissing him and never stop, but they don’t have time for that, and there’s also a 14-year-old just a few rooms away. There would be plenty of time though—a lifetime, even.

"Hey, while you're in there, check out the renovations I did to the bathroom." Eddie glances over his shoulder at Buck, who has already returned to packing the kitchen. Eddie is so full of fondness that he might burst.

The rest of the afternoon flies by, and by the time they're pulling up outside his parents' house, Eddie's stomach is cramping with anxiety. He still hasn't seen his mother. She'd never even come to visit him in the hospital, something that still settles weird in his chest.

It's a painful thought, one that makes him feel like a small child, overwhelmed and confused by his mother's hot and cold routine.

"No matter what happens tonight—what is said… Just remember I've got your back in there." Buck reminds Eddie quietly before they climb out of the truck.

Eddie nods, reaching out to squeeze his hand for reassurance before taking a deep, settling breath before he strides up to the front door. After some deliberation, he knocks upon a door he'd walk through a thousand times without such formality.

When his dad answers, he appears perplexed by his son's decision to knock. But the Diaz residence no longer felt like a space that belonged to him, even after an entire childhood under this very roof. The last few months had changed things for Eddie significantly. Ramon motions for them to come on in, stepping away from the door to let them past the threshold. Buck sets a steadying hand on Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie wishes he could steal one final kiss before they face the music.

Eddie can tell with a single inhale that his mother cooked mole, knowingly perfectly well that Eddie hates mole. He wishes that he were surprised that his mother made this meal for him, knowing full well that he's disliked mole since early childhood.

Helena pops out of the kitchen when she hears voices, her face shuttering when she notices Buck at his side.

“Where’s Christopher?”

“He wanted to hang out with Tía Pepa and Abuela before we head back to Los Angeles.” Eddie explains. “Besides, I thought this was a conversation that should be had between adults. He really doesn't need to be here for this. But Pepa did promise to drop him off later for dessert.”

“I guess I’m not sure what you mean, Edmundo.” And yeah, she’d said his full name just to piss him off, because of course she had.

"You know perfectly well why I'm here without Chris. Our heart-to-heart is long overdue."

"Regardless, this is a family matter." Helena glances pointedly at Buck, nose wrinkling with distaste. Buck doesn't even flinch, though, to his credit, just stares back at Eddie's mother, cool as a cucumber.

Ramon sighs, coming to stand by his wife. "Helena…"

"I'm just saying—" Helena argues.

"And what are you saying, Mom?" Eddie asks sharply. Helena decides not to deign his question with a response. She simply looks over at Buck even more meaningfully, her mouth twisting into something ugly.

“Buck is my family,” Eddie shoots back. "And if it hasn't already been made perfectly clear to you—Chris is just as much Buck's kid as he is mine. And Chris would have no issue telling you that himself. Just in case you're under any preconceived misconceptions."

"Those are awfully big words for you, Eddie," Helena sneers.

Eddie feels Buck go rigid beside him, and he reaches out, placing an arm in front of him as if to hold him back. Or maybe just to tell Buck that he had this one. Eddie isn't sure, but this argument has been brewing, maybe even since Eddie was parentified too young—raising his two sisters in his mother's and father's stead. His father may have apologized, which some days still doesn't feel like enough, but his mother, on the other hand, has done nothing but make herself the victim time and time again.

Eddie is fucking sick of it.

He hates the way tears spring to his eyes, borne of both grief and fury. "This entire 'Christopher moving to Texas ordeal' has made one thing so very clear to me."

"And what's that, Eddie?" Helena asks, voice perfectly condescending.

"That you never intended to help facilitate any relationship between me and Chris once he came back here. You tried to cut my son out of my life. I tried time and time again—and you not only kept us out of contact on purpose, but you also drove him away from me with petty lies. You planted ideas in his head that I didn't want him back in LA with me, although I made it extremely clear to you and Dad both that that was all I ever wanted.

"Eddie," Helena says coolly.

"I hope you know that I have spent my entire parenthood making sure that I never became you. And hell, you're not even trying to deny it. That's all you've got to say for yourself? Eddie?" He breathes in and breathes out, attempting to keep his voice even and calm. It's damn near impossible, but he manages to all the same.

"Why would I deny it? I didn't do anything wrong. Let me remind you, I've been telling you since the beginning that Chris has always belonged with us. He is where he needs to be, where he wants to be. I won't apologize for that. We can provide him with a type of stability that you can't and never would be able to manage."

“What you did is wrong,” Eddie snaps. "And Chris told me before my wreck that he was ready to go home. To go to LA. You want to know what he told me the other night? He thought that I seemed happier without him, which couldn't have been further from the truth. It broke my heart that you would let him sincerely believe that. And I also can't believe that he came up with that idea without help—I have to wonder who around here could have planted that thought in his head. Because it certainly wasn't me."

"And sure, life gets rocky sometimes—but you can't say that I haven't been a stable parent to him. I have been his constant in life since leaving the army. I have gone out of my way, even when things were hard, to always make sure he felt secure, included, and loved. Something you never managed to do for me."

"Well—" Helena begins. But Eddie is on a roll now. All these words and questions have been building within him for months, maybe even years.

"And Chris isn't your do-over. He's my son. Mine. And, yes, I was young when he was born. But I did everything I possibly could to support him. You rushed me into a dead-end marriage that should have never been. And to top it off, you spent the entirety of my marriage to Shannon being hateful to her and telling her she was doing everything wrong. Are you surprised she ran? All you do is push people away," Eddie accuses, voice cracking on do.

"Last I checked, I wasn't the person she was running from," Helena snipes back. Ramon is looking between Eddie and his mother in panic, but even if he didn't play an active part in everything that went down the last few months, he was still a participating bystander. Guilty by association.

"No, you just made her feel worthless. Like she wasn't good enough to be Chris's mother when she went above and beyond for him. Instead of helping us, really helping us—you only threw our shortcomings as parents back in our faces. I've spent my entire childhood never feeling good enough, while also having the world expected of me!"

"I went to war and came home a different and very broken person. And I still wasn’t good enough for you. Not when I worked three jobs just to support Chris and I—I still wasn't fucking good enough. I'm not sure that you will ever think that I'm good enough. I don't think there is anything I could ever do to earn your respect or love."

"Some people just aren't meant to be parents," Helena says with a disappointed sigh.

"You've got to be talking about yourself, right? Because I know for a fact that you sure as hell can't be talking about me!" Eddie's voice is certain and self-assured. "If I did one thing right in my life, I raised a great kid. A kid with compassion, kindness, and so much fucking love. He's open with his feelings—and he's so damn smart. Despite everything you both drilled into me as a kid. Toxic masculinity bullshit. 'Boys don't cry. Boys hide their feelings.' You say I'm not a fit parent, but when looking back, I spent my entire childhood parenting my little sisters. Where were you? Where were you!"

"That isn't fair," Helena snaps severely. "Your father was gone a lot, and I worked and—"

"And as a single parent with a full-time job, I still manage to be around for my kid more than you managed for any of us! You both love to break out that story of the time I crashed Dad's truck trying to get you to the hospital when you were in labor with Adriana. I've heard you laugh and tell that story countless times—just to remind everyone that all I do is fail. But really—I should have never been put in that position to begin with. I was a child!"

"And to Dad's credit, he's at least apologized to me, and he's even tried his best over these last few years to mend our relationship. But you—you've never… You have only ever played the victim when I always was."

"And yet, you want to raise and parent my kid. I was your son first! That was me. I was your kid. And I worked my ass off to make both of you proud, as a child and as an adult." Tears are flowing freely down Eddie's cheeks now. "I was good enough to raise your kids, but not my own? What kind of fucked-up logic is that?"

"I grew up a depressed and repressed fucking mess of childhood and religious trauma. You controlled every aspect of my life—and I let you. I was the perfect fucking son. And the one time I make a mistake, borne of a PTSD episode, you hung me on a cross for it. You crucified me. Nails through my hands and feet. A spear through the ribs, the whole nine yards."

"I've never felt good enough a day in my life, and that's on you. You tell me to grow up, and when I try—when I fucking try—you take my son from me. Why do you think I ran from you? Why do you think everyone around you leaves? You do that to them—to yourself. I feel free in LA. Like I can be myself in a way I never could here. In a way I never felt safe to."

"And despite all of those awful things, in spite of everything, I am a great father, a fantastic firefighter highly praised by his captain and the LAFD, and an adult who supports his kid and is there at every event possible. I have a support system and friends and family who love me. People who love me for who I am. Who don't try to brush the parts of me they don't like into a broom closet."

"Chris is my son. And from now on, your relationship with him will be on my terms. You can't just try to up and take him from me in the middle of the night. And if you even fucking try to think about filing for custody—so help me, you will never see him again. Either of us."

"Then again, I've more than learned that seeing me again might be neither here nor there for you. You made that abundantly clear when I woke up from my coma and you didn't even deign to give me the time of day. I almost died, you get that right?"

"I'm not an idiot," Helena says coldly.

"I don't think you're getting it, Helena. I have always done exactly as you asked, and I am through with it. I'm done pretending. I get nothing out of it. There is nothing left for me in this sad excuse of a dictatorship masquerading as a relationship, if you can even call it that. I am, as we all are, an imperfect man. I was in the middle of a mental health crisis and an officially diagnosed PTSD episode, and instead of doing anything to help me, you took away the light of my fucking life. You made me feel insecure in my relationship to my son—and I don't think I will ever forgive you for that."

"There were things you could have done, you know—should have done, really. You should have stuck around in LA. You could have tried. And you know who had my back throughout all of that? This man beside me. Buck. So yeah, he's family. He succeeded where my own mother failed."

"I gave my son space because that is what he asked for and needed at the time—and growing up that was something you never offered me. You smothered me. You never gave me the chance to try or succeed or really even fail. I am constantly working on myself and changing, trying to become the man Chris needs me to be for him—to set a good example. And that's not going to be you. What your relationship with your grandson looks like is completely up to him—and after lying to him the way you did…well, you very well might have burned that bridge already."

"When I was in the wreck, you took away his support system. You kept him from reaching out to the people who could help him, mentally and emotionally—like Buck and his friends back home. Our family back home. Our. No matter how much you scoff at the thought of family who aren't related by blood or marriage—that's what the 118 has provided me. That's what Buck has given me. You come to terms with that however the hell you have to."

When Eddie finishes, he's breathing heavily, shoulders heaving with the effort. He's still crying and isn't entirely sure if he'll ever be able to stop. "Buck, Chris, and I are leaving El Paso. For good. My house will be going back up on the market. Buck has already been in contact with realtor’s. We're going home."

Eddie turns and leaves, letting the door slam behind him hard enough that he’s sure it rattles his mothers wall decorations. Buck follows him, a gentle hand settled on his lower back all the way to the car, sides pressed together in comfort.

"Not going to lie, that was kinda hot."

Eddie laughs through a sob, "Let's go. I'm starving. And she was going to serve mole, anyway."

"Well, why don't we get a head start on packing then? Pepa and I predicted the night might go this way. Neither of us assumed that you and I would end up having dinner with your parents, so dinner is in the oven for when we get home. Also, she said she was going to keep Chris overnight while we get things sorted. And to give you a chance to decompress after… well, your talk with your mom."

Eddie studies Buck's face, wondering how it was possible he'd gotten so damn lucky. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"You never had to," Buck says, leaning over to kiss him on the temple before they back out of the Diaz driveway. Neither of them looks back.

+++

Buck POV

"Hey, Buck?"

Eddie's pensive and quiet tone is enough to make Buck drop what he's doing and follow the sound of his voice into the living room. "What's up?"

He studies Eddie, who is quiet. He looks emotionally wrung out after his conversation with his mom—on top of the general exhaustion from, well, the coma. Eddie is standing by the couch, frowning at his phone, which is resting gingerly in his hand. Eddie's expression is serious when he looks at Buck, and it makes his stomach swoop uncomfortably. "Can we talk?"

"O-okay…" Buck manages, a little breathless.

"It's nothing bad…" Eddie says quickly, voice trailing off. "I just. I feel like we should talk about how we left things. When I left LA, I mean."

"We talked about it," Buck says evasively. The idea of talking candidly about the last messy few months fills him with unbridled panic. He's not sure he's ready for Eddie to see just how pathetic he'd become in his absence.

"But did we? I think we sorta just skirted around the issue. I—well, I was going through my messages and found a voicemail from a couple months ago."

Buck wets his lips. "Look, Eddie, whatever I said—"

Eddie interrupts before he has a chance to continue. "I know when I left, it hurt you."

"You were doing what was best for your son, which, trust me, I respect the hell out of that."

"We both know that I'm referring to after I got settled in."

"Right," Buck says, looking away.

"I'm trying to do the communication thing and, like, be open with my feelings," Eddie says. "And like, I know sometimes I struggle with it, so like. Bear with me, I guess. This isn't coming out how I mean it to at all." Eddie sighs in frustration. "I want it all out and on the table—that way you don't go getting the wrong idea. What I'm trying to say, rather clumsily, is that I'm sorry. I pretty much ghosted you when I came back here, and I don't really have any good excuse. But I do owe you an apology."

Buck feels the tension in his shoulders loosen. He'd been slightly worried that Eddie might already be overwhelmed with his clinginess or general overbearing nature. "Eddie, come on. You really don't need to apologize," Buck relays to him, voice serious. Because, of course, Buck gets it. He isn't going to hold the last few months against him. "You were in a bad headspace." It was the truth, and it bore stating.

"Yes, but I should have just done the adult thing and talked to you. I wasn't doing hot, but that isn't an excuse for not being there for you when you clearly needed me. Or like, communicating what was going on. I could have told you I needed space. I hurt you."

"I forgive you." Buck shrugs because he needs Eddie to know it really is that simple. Buck understands. He forgives. He moves on. Buck wasn't the type of man to hold someone's worst moments over them, like a guillotine. Not like his own parents had.

"Do I really deserve forgiveness, just like that?" Eddie sounds frustrated. "You left me a drunk voicemail sobbing. And Christ, I know you have abandonment issues. What I did was fucked up."

"Well, you already proposed, so you can't get rid of me that easily," Buck jokes.

"Evan." Eddie says his name so gently and tenderly it shuts Buck right the hell up. Quells the other myriad of jokes rising to his lips.

Buck sobers. "Look, Eddie. I was worried about you, and I was lonely and scared. And yeah, I have rather extreme abandonment issues. Water is wet, and the sky is blue. But you weren't abandoning me. You were looking out for your son. And if I'd had a little more courage a few months ago, I might have asked if I could come along, but I had no clue how to ask without feeling like it was overstepping. And it certainly didn't help that once you left, I kinda realized I was head over heels in love with you, which wasn't amazing timing. So yeah, I was in a bad headspace. You were in a bad headspace. I forgive you, I love you, and we can move on. You don't need to earn it—you already have it."

"There isn't a bigger conversation to be had?" Eddie asks, shaking his head, apparently confused by how uncomplicated Buck was making this.

"Only if you want to have one."

"Buck…"

"Eddie. Are you planning on going anywhere? Nothing in life is certain. But I am certain about you and how I feel. That's all I need."

Eddie looks up at him with his big sad cow eyes. "I just worry—"

"Whatever self-depreciating thing you're going to say to me, save it for your therapist," Buck teases. "I love you. I don't need a reason more than that. We've always worked through everything life has thrown at us. Why should that change just because we're together?"

"It wouldn't," Eddie says finally, seeming to settle into his skin, the tension in his shoulders melting away. "You really want to do this? You and me? Marriage.

"You're it for me, Eddie."

Eddie gives him an exhausted but happy smile. "You're it for me too, Buck."

"Good, then come help me check that the entire kitchen is packed and ready to go."

"Is it too late to change my mind?" Eddie jokes.

"You're stuck with me, Diaz."

"Diaz," Eddie repeats. "Evan 'Buck' Buckley-Diaz. You know, I really like the sound of that."

Buck swears his feet forget that they're feet because he stumbles, earning a laugh from Eddie behind him. Somehow he manages to speak, despite feeling completely tongue-tied, "Are we hyphenating? I'm into the hyphen. Do you think Bobby will let us update our turnouts? Also, when are we telling people? Are we like making sure things work, or like, should I tell Maddie? If I wait too long, she might murder us, but—" Eddie shuts him up by kissing him against the counter.

+++

Buck wakes up early the next morning. His right arm is asleep and full of pins and needles, caused by the heavy weight cutting off blood circulation to his arm—Eddie's cheek is pressed to his chest, left arm resting on Buck's stomach.
And Buck was always told that he was a clingy sleeper. He can't help himself. Buck reaches out and runs his fingers through Eddie's mussed hair with his free hand. His boyfriend—or rather fiancé—hums softly, eyes fluttering open.

"Time?"

Buck glances at his phone to double-check the time. "Almost 9."

Eddie sits up quickly. "We're late!"

"For what?" Buck asks, trying and failing to tempt Eddie to lie back down for just a few minutes longer.

"What do you mean, 'for what?' We've got so much to do today!" Eddie throws the covers off and is already sliding out of bed. Buck hates to watch him go but loves to watch him leave. Especially in those damn gray briefs that hug every curve just right.

"The U-Haul won't arrive until eleven, and Chris probably won't even be here until around ten," Buck reminds him, letting out a labored sigh before following Eddie's lead and sliding out of bed. Buck had hoped they would have a little longer to cuddle—a couple more minutes of pins and needles would have been worth it. But, really, he should have assumed that Eddie would want to get around as quickly as possible.

Eddie emerges from the bathroom, toothbrush in mouth, trying to put a pair of gym shorts on simultaneously.

"Well, I'm going to scrounge us up something for breakfast. Coffee?"

Eddie nods in eager agreement, and Buck heads down the hallway—one of the final few items still out in the kitchen. Buck scans the mostly barren fridge and pulls out the rest of the eggs, cheese, and single bell pepper—they might as well use up what they can. He grabs a pan and a dollop of butter. Less than a minute into cooking, his phone begins to ring with a telltale FaceTime notification. He pauses to prop the iPad up on the counter and answers the call from there so he can multi-task.

"Buck!" Hen says, "You're up early."

"Yeah, because Eddie hates me and doesn't want to let me sleep."

"It's literally after nine. Besides, I never said you had to get up," Eddie remarks, entering in from the other room.

"Eddie!!! He's alive!" Chimney shouts somewhere off-screen. That doesn't last long because he shoves his face as close to the screen as possible, filling up the entire iPad display, earning a chuckle from Eddie.

"Hey, Chim. How's your shift going?"

"I won't say," Chim replies.

"So you're saying it's—" Buck lunges across the room and covers Eddie's mouth with his hand. "So superstitious," Eddie comments, rolling his eyes with a shit-eating grin once he'd relinquished himself from Buck's hold. "You're going to burn the eggs."

"And whose fault would that be?" Buck asks, brandishing the spatula at him.

"Loving the Diaz hoodie, by the way, Buck," Hen says, earning blushes from both Buck and Eddie. When Eddie isn't looking, Buck makes sure to flip her off, because neither of them has filled their friends in on their new relationship status—which means Hen was teasing him because of Buck's big revelation to her a few months ago.

"I didn't exactly come prepared with a ton of clothes. You could have sent a care package."

Buck can tell Chimney is gearing up to say something lewd, but he's cut off with a look from Bobby, who joins the conversation. "You're looking well, Eddie."

"Thanks, Cap," Eddie says with a wide grin.

"Heard you two are gearing up to head back to LA before too long. Should I hold your spot here?"

"That would be appreciated," Eddie agreed. "I've got some physical therapy to undergo, but my doctors here said I shouldn't have any problems returning to work. I got pretty lucky."

"Don't remind me," Buck said, blinking the images from the wreck away.

"Those pictures weren't pretty," Chimney says, as if reading Buck's mind. "So is that true? We'll be seeing you sooner rather than later?"

"U-Haul is getting dropped off around eleven," Buck agrees, serving their eggs on paper plates.

"Which box did we put the silverware in?" Eddie asks.

"Couldn't tell you."

In the background of the call, an alarm blares, and with a rushed farewell, their friends are gone, and Buck and Eddie are left alone to enjoy their eggs in comfortable silence.

+++

Eddie POV

For the entirety of his afternoon, Eddie hasn't done much more than watch Buck and his sisters stack boxes carefully in the back of the giant U-Haul that Buck swears up and down the walls he knows how to drive. It hadn't felt like Eddie had done much living in El Paso, yet somehow, he, or maybe Chris, has accumulated so much more stuff than he'd brought along on his initial trip to Texas.

Adriana and Sophia had only left about 25 minutes ago, after numerous hugs and promises to visit them in LA.

Buck is stacking the final few boxes now—he's absolutely refused to allow Eddie to participate in any heavy lifting, and Pepa stuck around to help scold Eddie anytime she caught him so much as glancing in the direction of a box.

The absolute last thing Eddie is expecting as Buck pulls the sliding door on the back of the truck closed is for his Dad to pull up in the driveway in his beat-up Ford pickup. Eddie squares his shoulders for an argument or fight. Buck comes to stand beside Eddie, and Ramon glances between them with something meaningful in his eyes. Eddie's stomach twists with nerves.

"Dad?"

"Eddie… I just wanted to stop by before you headed out of town. I wanted the chance to say goodbye to you and Chris both, if that's alright."

"That's up to Chris," Eddie says, glancing at the passenger seat of his father's truck just to make sure his mom wasn't waiting around the corner, ready to ambush him. There are a couple of moments of silence before Eddie extends an olive branch. "Why don't we go inside? Buck just made a fresh pot of coffee not too long ago."

"Yes—uh, that sounds good." Ramon follows them inside, and Buck disappears down the hallway. Eddie finds a styrofoam cup in one of the cabinets. "I wanted to talk to you about the other night."

"I stand by what I said." Eddie says steadily, pouring the cup of black coffee.

"I know. And you were right. I should have taken a more active role against your mother's decisions. I was just as much to blame for how…out of hand things got. And I'm sorry for that."

Eddie is quiet, half expecting the other shoe to drop. He glances at Buck when he reenters the kitchen, and he gives a tiny nod, alerting Eddie that Chris agreed to say goodbye to his abuelo.

"I wanted to…well, I guess I wanted to see if it would be possible that maybe once you're settled back in LA, it might be okay for me to come visit? If you need more time or space, I would understand. But clearly… Buck," Ramon glances at Buck when he says this. "Well, he's important to you, and I think I owe it to both of you to get to know him better."

Eddie is stunned into silence. "I think I would like that," Eddie says finally. "But for now—just you."

"Yeah," Ramon's mouth pinches together in a hard line. "Your mother and I haven't seen eye-to-eye exactly on this decision. And Buck, I want to apologize for not contacting you when the wreck first happened. I guess I didn't realize…" His voice trails off, and Eddie can tell he's struggling to figure out just how to frame their friendship or relationship. Eddie decides to clear that up.

"He's my boyfriend," Eddie says. And the world doesn't end. He doesn't panic. The earth keeps turning. He almost laughs.

"Right, well, you play an active role in both of their lives. I should have put my foot down when Helena decided against calling you. I can tell just how much Chris loves you." Ramon glances at Eddie, and he feels hot and itchy for the first time since his proclamation. "This one too."
Buck looks slightly bashful, but his smile is genuine. "Well, I love him, too."

"Take care of them." Ramon's voice is serious, and Eddie sighs.

"Dad—"

"I will, always." Buck says before Eddie can finish chastising him. And Eddie and Ramon both know that Buck means it.

Chapter Text

Buck POV

"Wake up, sleepyheads. We're home," Buck says, glancing to his right, where Chris, tucked between the two of them, is leaning against his dad, fast asleep. Eddie himself is slumped against the window, looking perfectly peaceful, soft breaths fogging up the glass. Buck is so fucking soft as he observes them. He's unable to help himself when he pulls out his phone and snaps a couple of photos—he's certain Eddie will cherish them.

When his voice isn't enough to pull either of them from dreamland, Buck reaches out and gently touches Eddie's shoulder. He wakes up slowly, blinking a few times, glancing down at Chris, whose cheek is still pressed against Eddie's ribs. Eddie ruffles his son's hair, waking Chris, who somehow goes from fast asleep to alert in under a minute, excitement shining in his eyes.

"We're here?" Eddie's voice cracks, still heavy with sleep. There's a dazed edge to it.

"We're here," Buck agrees before pushing open the heavy door of the U-Haul with his foot. He climbs down, using the step, then shifts to help Chris down and out—the height of the U-Haul is not as disability-friendly as they'd have liked it to be.

Eddie passes Chris's crutches to Buck, who passes them along to Chris. The moment he's got his hands on them, he's practically flying toward the front door—eager to be home. Buck and Eddie follow him at a more leisurely rate, and Buck fumbles with the house keys, unlocking the front door to let Chris inside.

"You didn't turn my room into the exercise room or anything, did you?" Chris asks suspiciously before pushing onward into the house. He stops only a few feet inside, wrinkling his nose in disdain. "Well, this place looks like Dad's did back in El Paso," Chris comments critically, clocking the boxes still stacked along the walls, right where Buck left them the day he first moved in. "Oh, I see you became one of those without us around." Chris eyes the exercise equipment positioned around the living room judgmentally.

Buck can't help but laugh. "What does that mean?"

"Eat, pound protein, lift, sleep," Chris jeers, doing a crude bro voice, fake biting his bottom lip mockingly. "He's one mean, lean, protein-consuming machine. I gotta have my protein, bro, so I can get gains." Behind Buck, Eddie laughs at his expense.

"Oh, and I'm the one who's cringe," Buck says back sarcastically. Chris cackles and disappears down the hallway, probably poking around to see what else Buck had done with the place. Which, yeah, wasn't much if Buck was perfectly honest.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," Eddie says, just as Chris disappears into the empty room that would soon be his bedroom again. "Or rather this."

"About my treadmill?" Buck asks in confusion, not waiting for Eddie to finish his thought. A chronic interrupter. Some people would be annoyed by this habit, but Eddie only looks softly amused.

"Yes, Buck, we need to have a serious talk about your treadmill," Eddie responds, rolling his eyes, not hiding his affectionate smile. "I was thinking on the drive up—between the two of us, it might be cheaper to mortgage, rather than continue renting. We could find somewhere with a little more space, maybe closer to work?"

"Oh," Buck turns to really look at Eddie now with surprise. He'd never even considered that possibility, but now that Eddie's said it—"Yeah, I'd like that." A house the two—or rather three—of them could pick out together. One that was thankfully not over a thousand miles away. A shared space. A home with his family. His family.

"Thank God that that's settled. We need somewhere to put all your exercise equipment. Maybe we should talk about the fact you have a treadmill in our living room. Buck, the living room. You good, dude?" Buck splutters and follows after Eddie, like a dog on his heels, heading outside while trying to explain himself. Eddie only manages to shut him up by kissing him before pulling out the key. "Buck, I'm teasing," Eddie reminds him with a laugh.

"Well, you like it when I ramble," Buck accuses. He blushes when Eddie doesn't argue and simply sends him an even more affectionate smile. "Also, you're still on light lifting until you've completed PT, so don't even think about it! You can be helpful by going inside and calling someone to help me with the heavy lifting."

Eddie groans and turns on his heel, heading back toward the house, pulling out his phone as he does so. "I'm calling Chim. Thank God I won't have to deal with your sorry ass by myself anymore."

"You like my ass! And it's too bad because you're stuck with me!" Buck shouts after him before hopping up in the back of the U-Haul.

+++

Eddie POV

If Eddie was perfectly honest, he's a little grumpy about Ravi's existence right now. He gets it. Of course he does. Buck had to keep existing while Eddie was in El Paso; he had the right to get closer to the other people around him, but that doesn't mean that Eddie isn't allowed to be grumpy about it.

"I really think you'll like this guy, Buck. He's a great realtor, and he'll get you as decent a price and interest rate as he can with your credit score…" Ravi is saying. Eddie bites down on his telltale frown of annoyance each time Ravi glances in his direction, like maybe he's equally unhappy to see Eddie as Eddie is to see him. Although, Eddie is quite certain he's hiding his displeasure well. Can you blame Eddie, though? They've been in LA for two and a half weeks, and he's frankly sick of hearing about Ravi.

Buck had gone back to work last week. Eddie's missing the team, and it's certainly not helping when he reminds himself that Ravi is his current stand-in, even now.

"You've never seen my credit score," Buck complains.

"It's infamous!" Ravi shoots back. Eddie barely manages to hold back a huff. "Well, it would be easier if you could find someone to co-sign with you, but then again, that's a difficult ask since you're wanting to buy."

"I'm here to look for a house, not judgment," Buck jokes, knocking their shoulders together. Eddie feels his stomach twinge again when Ravi glances over at him.

And so maybe that's the other part of it—Eddie wasn't expecting Ravi here, and Ravi wasn't expecting Eddie there. It feels a bit like he's been caught out doing something he wasn't supposed to. And sure, maybe Eddie is a little oversensitive after dealing with his parents the last few months. He just hates the feeling of being out of place—a few months ago, no one would have even blinked twice if Eddie followed Buck to a couple open houses. He hates feeling like so much has changed since he left.

They've also neglected to tell Ravi that the two of them are looking for something for the both of them—for their family—them and Chris. And it's for the best, because Eddie loves the 118, but they're also such goddamn gossips. Not that Eddie is much better, but if Ravi gets wind that they're house-hunting together, well, the entire station would know before they had a chance to tell A-Shift themselves.

Eddie, who has been studying the neighborhood, catches Ravi glancing at him again. Eddie sends him an impatient look back, not trying to be confrontational, exactly, but also not not being confrontational. If Ravi has a problem with Eddie hanging out with his best friend of 8 years, he could damn well say it to his face.

"Hey, uh, what's Eddie doing here?" Ravi's question is hushed, like he's trying to keep Eddie from hearing him despite only being a couple of feet away. Eddie narrows his eyes at Ravi, clenching his jaw when their teammate averts his eyes and blushes, probably realizing Eddie had heard him.

"Eddie comes everywhere with me," Buck says, tilting his head in confusion. "Moral support." His voice is so happy, Eddie feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt away, feeling a bit chastised for his erratic behavior. He feels his skin get hot when Buck flashes a flirty wink and grin over his shoulder.

Eddie edges a little closer, straining to hear when Ravi drops his voice an octave lower. Little shit."It's just that you might have an easier time without him here. And I didn't warn Dom he was coming."

Buck's eyebrows knit together in genuine confusion, "Why would he need a warning."

"Right…" Ravi mutters something indistinguishable under his breath and straightens his spine and shakes his head. "Well, my buddy should be here anytime." Ravi glances at his Apple Watch, perking up a bit. Right—there he is. Speak of the devil. I'll see you all soon."

As Ravi walks purposefully down the long sidewalk, Eddie feels himself beginning to settle down. He doesn't know why he's green with envy when there isn't a competition. There was just something about knowing Ravi had filled the spot Eddie left empty in so many ways—on the team, and maybe even in Buck's life. He misses his job, and maybe that's all this little fit boils down to.

He also knows that there isn't any rational reason to be jealous, especially since Buck is the most loyal person Eddie has ever met. He'd looked Eddie in the eye just a few weeks ago and told him that Eddie was it for him. And Eddie trusts him more than anyone else ever. But that hasn't kept his jealousy from rearing its ugly head.

With shame warm in his belly, Eddie watches Ravi pause midway to speak with his friend, uttering nonsense about a magically convenient doctor's appointment he'd forgotten about. And finally he's gone. Ravi's realtor friend waves cheerfully at them, albeit confused by Ravi's swift exit. He hops up the handful of steps with a beaming smile. "So nice to meet you! I'm Dominic, but everyone calls me Dom. You," Dominic angles himself to look at Buck, "—must be Buck. Ravi has told me so much about you. He also told me not to look at your credit score too closely." There's something soft and teasing in his voice. He turns now to focus on Eddie. "And, I'm sorry, I don't think Rav mentioned your name?"

"Right, I'm Eddie." He politely accepts Dom's proffered hand. "We forgot to mention to Ravi that I'd be tagging along."

"Not a problem. Happy to have you, Eddie. The more, the merrier," Dom says, waving Eddie's apology off. "Now before we get this show on the road, I have a couple of homes in mind to give you a walk-through on—but Ravi didn't seem to have many specifics on what you were looking for. What are you wanting when we search for your forever home? Tell me about yourself." He props the clipboard on his arm and glances at Buck meaningfully.

"Well, when Ravi recommended me to you, he said that you're the man to talk to when it comes to family homes. He was explaining how you'd helped him find his sister somewhere nice and relatively affordable for her, her husband, and kids."

"Oh, that's wonderful. Are you looking to settle down? Good neighborhood and school, the whole nine yards?"

"Exactly," Buck says.

"And just to confirm I'm picking up the correct vibes here, you're the second half of this equation," Dom asks Eddie.

"Er, yeah," Eddie agrees. "We're all firefighters at the same station, so we haven't told Ravi yet that we're looking for a home together. I've only recently moved back to LA. But now I'm back, and we're ready to put down roots."

"Big step in the relationship," Dom agrees with a smile. "Congratulations. And don't worry about Rav—I'll be discreet. Why don't we step inside and take a look around? That way I can get a feel for the sort of home you're looking for."

"We're not overly picky," Buck says, as they both follow Dominic inside as he unlocks the front door. "Just looking for something homey and preferably single-floor without stairs. Our son has cerebral palsy, so any space we look at needs to be accessible for crutches and wheelchairs—"

"Great to know," Dominic says, already scribbling the note. "That is a great help in narrowing our options. Just tell me what you like and don't like about this place. It'll help me curate a list of homes to look at."

They spend the afternoon touring a variety of places, including one that isn't yet quite up on the market—and it also happens to be not only perfect but also impossibly in their price range. And sure, maybe that was because a serial killer had lived here, and maybe one or two people had died in the home some years back—but that was something Chris and the rest of the 118 didn't need to know about.

"I think this is it. This is the place, isn't it?" Buck asks Eddie in quiet awe.

The home currently belonged to an older couple who were only moving to live closer to their kids. It had been freshly remodeled and repainted, and because one-half of the couple had been a professional chef, it had a huge kitchen with a lot of extra counter and gadget space. There were no stairs on the front porch, making it wheelchair accessible. 5 bedrooms, three bathrooms, two with full showers—one of which is an en-suite in the master bedroom.

"We should put an offer down," Buck murmurs. The money from Eddie's settlement from the insurance company from the accident is helping immensely with their down payment.

"Plenty of room for guests and your home gym," Eddie mentions with affectionate amusement.

Buck sounds nervous when he speaks, "Five bedrooms… Maybe we could find another use for one of those?"

Eddie feels his stomach flip, and he comes to a stop beside his boyfriend. Was Buck saying what he thought he was saying? He's wide-eyed as he looks at Buck, who is averting his eyes a little. He guesses he's always known that Buck wants kids to some extent; he'd never even considered having another until the last month or so. It felt right to imagine them with a baby, especially since Christopher would be off to college before either of them realized it.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, still studying Buck's face. "You know, I was thinking the same thing. Especially with one about to escape the nest."

Buck tries to smother his beaming smile and fails. "A conversation for after the wedding, maybe?" Buck suggests hopefully. "Speaking of, what is our timeline on the wedding and telling the others?"

Dominic appears from the other room, interrupting his question. "So what do we think? I know the whole 'people have died here' really puts people off, but then again, you're both first responders."

"People die everywhere," Eddie announces. "I think we would like to put an early offer in, if possible." He glances at Buck for one last confirmation. "And only if you promise not to get inevitably scared when you think it's haunted, when there's like a squirrel living in our wall or something."

"It's okay, I'll just make Karen come sage the house for me or something. And I can live with ghosts if they're nice!" Buck informs Eddie, earning a scoff from him and a chuckle from Dom. Buck launches into the story about the ghost who called 9-1-1, and Eddie gazes at him lovingly. Inevitably, when Buck decides it is haunted a few months from now, Eddie will put up with his ridiculous shenanigans and secretly love every second of it. Even if he would never admit it to anyone, ever. And besides, Eddie has a good feeling about this place—like it's already theirs.

"Perfect, I'll let the seller know! I'll run your credit reports when I've returned to the office in the morning and let you know what sort of money I'd recommend you put down upfront." Dom clicks his pen. "You're welcome to look around a bit longer—otherwise, I'll contact you as soon as we have news. It was so nice to meet you both!"

"Perfect, we'll be on our way. Thanks for everything, Dom. Really," Buck says insistently. Eddie is surprised when Buck grabs his hand and squeezes, grinning toothily, swinging their arms back and forth between them. "Did you see that backyard, Eds? If we get it, maybe we could host our own wedding! It could double as a perfect housewarming party!"

"It would be perfect," Eddie agrees, squeezing his hand and pulling him in for a kiss.

"And like, this place is great and everything, but you know what the best part would be?" Buck asks earnestly.

"That you could go harass Bobby at any hour of the day?"

"That I could go harass Bobby! It's only a five-minute drive! Imagine if I needed a cup of sugar."

Eddie belly laughs, leaning up to kiss Buck on the mouth again. His boyfriend seems surprised but pleased by the gesture.

And, God, Eddie loves him.

+++

Eddie POV

Eddie stares wide-eyed at the gorgeous, two-story building poised on the Nash-Grant's stretch of land. They'd built a beautiful home with the insurance money they'd received after the fire. He hadn't had a chance to see the place before he'd moved to El Paso. Back then it had still been in earlier stages while Bobby and Athena were still fighting with contractors.

Eddie is also overly aware that just a five-minute drive from here, their hopefully soon-to-be home still sits in decision purgatory. It's been two days since they'd last heard from Dom, though they'd been told there would be a decision along with official news any day now, so long as everything went smoothly; things were working so far in their favor.

"What are we waiting on?" Chris asks dubiously, staring at his dad and Buck, who both haven't moved since sliding out of their respective sides of the Jeep.

Eddie steals a glance at Buck, who is an anxious wreck next to him. He'd been stress baking all morning and afternoon. They have three loaves of fresh bread, cookies, brownies, and frosted cupcakes—which Buck has brought along with them. Despite Buck's nerves, though, he doesn't wait, grabbing the desserts off the backseat and leading the way to the front door.

Chris is lagging a short way behind Buck, miffed at both of them for making him come here rather than allowing him to hang out with Denny tonight. Buck, instead of knocking like Eddie expects, flings the door open. "Mom, Dad, I'm home." There's a little joke in his voice, even though it really isn't all that much of a joke anymore. It's not a secret that, in many ways, Athena and Bobby had taken the Buckley siblings in early on. Those relationships had only solidified with time.

Bobby plays just as important a role in Eddie’s own life, in many ways. He'd taken on a parental shape for Eddie too when it came to giving advice, whether it came to big life changes, relationship advice, or parenting advice. Albeit much different than Buck's relationship with Bobby, it was important in all the ways that mattered. For Buck, it filled the void of a relationship he'd never achieved with the Buckley parents—whereas Eddie still had Pepa and Abuela and other family members to fill that position.

He and Buck are both similar and different in the same ways. Sometimes Eddie's certain that's why they're able to understand each other the way they do. Two sides of the same coin, and all that.

The importance their captain plays in their lives is the reason Eddie is also a bit nervous—tonight, he and Buck had decided to disclose their relationship to Bobby and Athena on both a professional and personal level. After a considerable amount of discussion, they'd decided Bobby deserved a heads-up in case there were any arrangements that needed to be made. Although he and Eddie both hope that as long as they can keep things professional at work, they'll be allowed to continue to work in tandem. The 118 were a family anyway. And at the end of the day, they were always Buck and Eddie, even if only now, in a more official sense.

Eddie gently closes the door behind him, ushering his son forward, further into the home. He can't help but smile softly when he spots Athena giving Buck a motherly hug in greeting. He also isn't expecting to receive one as well, but after hugging Chris, she turns to Eddie and embraces him with bone-crushing fierceness. "You gave us quite the scare, Eddie Diaz."

Eddie chuckles as she pulls away. "Well, I guess take that up with the driver who T-boned me in the intersection."

"All things considered, you don't look too worse for wear. We're glad to have both of you back in LA, despite the circumstances that led to it." Athena turns her gaze to Christopher. "And you two, we missed you at our last few get-togethers." Eddie's son smiles bashfully.

"Nice place you and Bobby have here," Eddie comments as Athena shows them further into her home.

"It better be after all the arguing I had to hear over the same exact three paint colors." Eddie turns in surprise as a fresh voice joins the conversation.

"May!" Buck crows in excitement. He scoops her up and spins her around in big brother fashion. "I was not told you were home!"

May laughs as Buck sets her back down on solid ground, and she informs him in her best condescending little sister tone, "That's because it was a surprise."

Eddie laughs at the pair of them, extremely familiar with and endeared by her little sister sarcasm. May turns to Eddi now, while Chris goes in search of scraps from the kitchen with Athena's direction, more uncertain of the new layout than Buck, who has clearly been here dozens of times since the Nash-Grants settled in, and maybe even before.

"Hey there, stranger," Eddie greets as May approaches. He gives her a tight, friendly hug.

May steps back and smiles widely. "I'm glad to have you back in LA, where you belong." She glances over her shoulder at Buck, who is disappearing into the kitchen after Chris, surely intent on harassing Bobby until he allows Buck to help him. "Maybe that one will finally stop moping about." Eddie grins and blushes and follows her to the wine.

All around, the night is nice and a much-needed reprieve. Eddie's welcome home party at Maddie and Chim's had been nice, but hadn't actually offered much time to catch up with everyone. Alcohol had been consumed, and there are still pieces of the night that are missing and will probably never return. It hadn't helped that he and Buck had spent a vast majority of the night staying out of each other's orbits as much as they could so that they didn't do something stupid, like drunkenly make out in front of everyone or give away their relationship before they were ready.

For the time being, they were telling Bobby and Athena and then going from there accordingly. And Eddie's still nervously gearing up for the whole coming-out conversation or decided whether he'd prefer just drop the relationship bomb instead. He knows the people around him will love and accept him, but it doesn't erase the rush of emotions that accompanies an important announcement of self-discovery.

Throughout the last week, they'd started to nail down official wedding details. They'd decided upon a low-maintenance backyard wedding with just the 118 friends and family in attendance, along with Eddie's sisters and, of course, Pepa and Abuela. Maybe even his dad. Maybe.

Eddie has been allowing Buck to handle the organization aspects, clipboard and all. The date is only two months away, just a short time after he would be cleared to return to work. They've also mutually decided to save their honeymoon until the following year, once their vacation time renewed since Buck had used all of his taking care of Chris and Eddie.

After Buck is finally kicked out of the kitchen, he finds Eddie alone on the back porch, enjoying the spring weather. He's watching the sun set in the distance, painting the sky in pinks and oranges. Buck rests a soft hand on his shoulder, and Eddie allows himself to lean into Buck's side, tilting his chin up to smile at his fiancé. Fiancé. The thought, the flavor of the word, the zing of excitement it carried—none of it has grown old, and Eddie really hopes it never does.

"Are you ready for this?" Buck asks him.

"Yes," Eddie says, with a surge of confidence. Nerves were nothing if it meant a lifetime with Evan Buckley.

Buck beams and laughs, "Well, I'm glad you're ready because I'm going to throw up on my shoes."

Before Eddie has a chance to respond, Buck's phone begins to ring, and they both startle. Their eyes lock when they see the name along the top. Dominic. Eddie answers it on speakerphone eagerly.

"Hey, Buck. I've got some great news for you. I wanted to let you and Eddie know that the couple accepted your offer on the home." They stare at each other wide-eyed in disbelief.

"S-seriously?" Buck asks, hopefully.

"Well, it took a little schmoozing since there was one other family in the running. I showed them a picture of the three of you and mentioned your extended family and said that you were thinking about expanding—the old lady crumbled. She was also delighted to hear you'd make good use of the kitchen. I shared one of those chocolate chip pumpkin muffins you gave me." Dominic laughs. "She did say that they felt you were the perfect fit from the beginning. Would you two have time to meet tomorrow?"

Eddie stares at Buck with speechless hope and joy, unable to get anything but a teary smile out.

"Of course!" Buck agrees immediately, on their behalf. "We're both off work, so that'll be perfect."

Eddie clears his throat, able to string together a few sentences. "Hey, Dom. It's Eddie. We're in the neighborhood at Buck's parents' right now. Would we be able to show them the house? I think once they hear the news, they'll want to see it for themselves."

"No problem at all, I'll leave the keys in a drawer in the kitchen. I'll be locking up here in about thirty minutes once I'm done with the inspector. The front door will be locked, so go in through the back."

"Thanks, we'll see you tomorrow." The call ends, and Eddie sends Buck a grin. "Told you it felt like it was ours from the start. Now we just gotta get the nosy ghosts out of there."

"So you're going on record saying that ghosts are real?" Buck asks.

"I'm going on record saying that you believe ghosts are real and also that you are an idiot."

"You never said those two things were related," Buck flirts. "So which is it?" When May appears a moment later to tell them that dinner is ready, they're both jittery with excitement.

They settle in at the table, side by side, per usual. Under the table, Buck wraps his ankle around Eddie's as he passes down a dish.

"So, Eddie, we haven't had much time to catch up. Given your state at the party." Bobby's voice is calm and full of affectionate humor.

"You can blame Maddie for that one," Eddie complains with good humor. "She kept insisting that since she's pregnant, I drink for both of us, which didn't go well when Chim challenged me to tequila shots."

"So, are you both settling back into LA living okay?" Bobby glances over at Chris.

"I'll be more settled when there isn't a weight bench in the living room," Chris snarks at Buck, with a grin.

"We're still sorting out the layout of everything," Eddie explains in amusement, glancing over at Buck, who is rolling his eyes humorously.

"Not everyone is built to walk into a living room at 7 am to see Buck pumping iron. We hate morning people in this household."

"I think that Bobby and I both can attest that Buck is not a morning person," Eddie informs Chris. "I've seen him nearly throw a 20-pound weight at Chim's head simply for talking to him too early. And trust me, on a call Morning-Buck is not the same human as Normal-Morning-Buck."

"If you smile even when you're grumpy or sad, it can trick your brain into thinking you're happy!" Buck argues. "It's just science!"

Chris gestures to Buck, looking between Athena, May, and Bobby. "See what I've got to live with? Buck fake smiling while he lifts weights in the living room at 6:30 in the morning. Creepy."

"What a way to talk to someone who cooked you breakfast before school three times this week!" Buck teases.

"Eddie, blink twice if you need help," Athena says in amusement.

Eddie dramatically blinks, earning a peal of laughter from the group. Buck bumps their shoulders together, and he casts him a sideways smile.

"How is your physical therapy going since the wreck?" May asks, worry in her tone.

"It's alright. I've been forcing Buck to go with me so that I get to swear at him rather than my instructor. Next week I switch to at-home therapy."

"If anyone needs to be blinking for help, it's me!" Buck whines. "He's very mean when he's in pain."

Eddie laughs at him and redirects his attention to their audience. "It'll still be a month before I'm cleared for duty, but I finally no longer have lifting restrictions," Eddie explains. Bobby, who already knew, per Buck, is nodding along.

Buck glances at Eddie meaningfully, and when he nods, Buck casually says, "Maybe this time I'll have help loading the U-Haul."

"You are the one who wouldn't even let me lift a bag of flour at the grocery store last week."

"It wasn't just a bag of flour. It was ten pounds of flour!" Buck argues back. "And you weren't cleared yet. The doctor left very specific instructions, Eds."

"I'm pretty sure you went through seven pounds of it this morning while you were stress baking. Chimney told me he's not allowed to bring home any more scones."

"Ugh, you two are too much," Chris complains, albeit affectionately, earning matching blushes from Buck and Eddie.

"Sorry, I hear you right? You mentioned loading a U-Haul. Hen commented last time I saw her that you were looking for a place—you found one?" Athena prods.

"Right, she said Ravi had connected you with a realtor!" May agrees eagerly.

"A realtor?" Bobby inquires, perking up. "That's a pretty big step. Are you looking to be done renting?"

Eddie feels his pulse speed up, and he wets his lips, glancing at Buck again, who suddenly looks queasy. "Definitely done with renting," Eddie agrees in his stead.

"Awe, Buck, it's like you're becoming a real adult," May teases. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Buck not so stealthily flipping her off, which earns a stuck-out tongue from May.

Buck, who has finally found his voice, says, "We actually have an offer in on a house outside your neighborhood."

Bobby glances to Eddie then, eyes widening a fraction. He keeps his voice calm and curious when he asks, "We?" Eddie feels hyper aware of Chris, who has paused eating to watch Bobby, Athena, and May's expressions.

"We," Eddie agrees.

"Surprise!"

Eddie rolls his eyes at his boyfriend. "Seeing what I left behind in LA sort of put a few things in focus for me. I realized a few weeks too late that our friendship was a little more intricate and layered than normal best friends… And not just anyone will fly to another state in the dead of night to take care of your kid and make sure your bills are paid."

"So you're dating," Athena states with excruciating patience. Eddie thinks she probably wants to throttle them.

"It only took a late-in-life sexuality crisis and a near-death experience for us to get our shit together, but yeah. We're dating."

"Engaged, really," Buck amends. "Also, late-in-life? I'm older than you!"

"By like a month, Buck.

"And I thought friends to fiancés was just a fun book trope." May says, laughing in disbelief. "You two are insane."

"Fork found in kitchen," Chris says with a sigh. "But I guess I get to join your Gay Dad Club."

May snorts water through her nose, causing a commotion and lots of laughter.

"So," Buck says, once everything has settled. "Don't hold out on us. Who won the money?"

"Money?" May says, too innocently.

Bobby has no qualms confirming the bet on the other hand. "It depends on how long ago you got together. Please tell me it was before you left El Paso. It's between me and Karen if that's the case."

"Bobby!" Eddie exclaims with a laugh, feeling the disbelief on his own face. Beside him, Buck barely looks fazed.

"Hen didn't think you'd figure it out until you were back a few months."

"Athena was hoping it would be before Eddie even left LA."

"I gave them too much credit," Athena admits. "Forgot they only have a single collective brain cell between the two of them."

Chris throws his head back and laughs loudly, earning a groan from Buck. "Don't encourage him, 'Thena."

"What was Maddie's bet?" Eddie asks, curiously.

"She said to give you a month of living together again in LA again. That was before your wreck happened, though," Athena explains.

"Chim was the most hopeful. He'd voted for the bachelor party," Bobby says with a sigh.

"So, you're planning to start telling people?" May asks curiously. "That you're together, I mean?"

"Soon. We wanted to tell Bobby first in case it caused issues at work."

"It won't," Bobby waves them off dismissively. "I looked into it awhile back."

"Wait, Chim's party was, like, ages ago. How long has the bet existed? Did everyone know that I was gay before me?" Eddie asks.

"Well, it was less knowing you were gay and more the pair of you being Buck&Eddie," Athena points out.

"I kind of always felt inevitable, from very early on," Bobby agrees. "We didn't have explicit confirmation on Buck's status until over the holidays. Admittedly, the entire thing got out of hand, and we felt pretty bad after…"

"Yeah, yeah, I told him all about my big humiliating breakdown," Buck says with an eye roll, averting his eyes to hide his embarrassment. "But like, we bet on everything; of course there was a bet on us."

"So," Athena says, voice loaded, and Buck is already grinning. "Not that I want to pry…"

"It was the day Eddie woke up from his coma."

Bobby and Athena, honest-to-god, high-five, and Chris laughs into his dinner.

"Please ignore them," May says, shaking her head and laughing at her parents' lack of shame. "We are all very happy for you—genuinely. Have you picked a date?"

"You specified engagement, right? I might have to file a restraining order from Maddie if you eloped," Athena jokes. "She would kill both of you."

"Haha," Eddie says dryly, like he hadn't suggested eloping to Buck. Buck smirks while Eddie pointedly ignores him. "Well, we're still waiting to tell the others. Wanted to get settled into the relationship since we realized we're moving quickly… We love you all, but you're so nosy."

"You're one to talk, Diaz." Buck spouts back. Beside him, Chris makes a fake vomiting noise of disgust at their open flirtation.

"Anyways," Eddie says after lightly elbowing his boyfriend. "We really just want something really small. And Buck isn't telling any vendors that it's a wedding so that we don't get the 'wedding tax.'"

"It's a real thing, Eddie! I tested my theory by calling on your phone as a different person."

"You did what?" Eddie asks, wheezing with laughter.

"I called them for the wedding packages under a different name!"

"Ah, yes, the return of Freddy Fakeman?" Bobby concurs in amusement.

"You're laughing, but the wedding tax is like 300 percent! Freddy Fakeman just saved us a hell of a lot of money." Buck defends, with a grin.

"Thank you, Freddy," Eddie says to him sarcastically. "We talked about using the backyard of our new place. Then we can double the reception as a housewarming party. Two birds, one stone, and all that."

Chris sits up and swings his gaze to look at them, eyes wide with excitement. "We got it? I was thinking that I should have a video game room in the extra bedroom, or something."

"You've already got your computer in your room, a Switch, and a PlayStation. We're not using the guest room as your gaming space," Eddie says in amusement. "We can talk about the living room area."

"Boring," Chris said, but no less excited.

After dinner, they load up into two vehicles, and Buck and Eddie let Bobby loose on the house, knowing he wouldn't sleep well without looking it over for code violations.

"The outside is gorgeous," May says. "How the hell are you two affording this place?

"As it turns out, despite the millions of jokes about Buck's awful credit score when he was subletting from me—I discovered during this process that he actually has a really good credit score, surprising everyone. He's in the 700s and has little to no debt. And the settlement money from my wreck is decent."

"And," Buck prods, proudly.

"And," Eddie says in amusement. "We made money off the place in El Paso, since Buck is living a secret second life as a house flipper. It sold pretty quickly once the new pictures went up. He made it look really nice." Buck preens under the compliments.

Athena looks around suspiciously. "I swear this place looks familiar." Buck ignores her in favor of showing off the giant kitchen, which thoroughly impresses Bobby. "Hang on," Athena says after a lap of the house. Please tell me this wasn't the serial killer's house."

"A serial killer lived here?" Chris asks, popping in from the other room. "Cool."

Athena scoffs, "Cool?"

"Teenagers," Eddie agrees with an amused shake of the head.

"So, yeah, maybe it once belonged to a serial killer. And maybe two people died here. But like, it's the only reason we can afford such a nice place," Buck reminds her with a laugh. Athena strides off, shaking her head in disbelief, mumbling under her breath. "Was it something I said?" Buck jokes.

Eddie kisses him, because there's nothing else he can say to express his adoration for his favorite idiot.

+++

Buck POV

Coming back to work after his return from El Paso was strange, to say the least. In some ways, it felt like Buck had lived several lifetimes and fallen into an alternate universe between taking that flight out on the red-eye. Between caring for Christopher, dealing with his future in-laws, house flipping, and monitoring Eddie's recovery full-time, returning to firefighting had been jarring. Buck's life had been completely upended for almost half a year, and normalcy after all of it left him unsteady on his feet. Certain aspects Buck is frankly still processing. And recently it's started hitting Buck just how close he'd got to losing Eddie once again.

This string of events means acting normally at work is proving more difficult than he expected—it was all the same, and it was all still so very different. The landscape of his life has been resurfaced, for good and bad. It's doubtful that he and Eddie's big secret looming overhead at all times is helping Buck on the 'stability' front. Although telling Bobby and Athena had helped the mounting feeling of pressure ease exponentially. Buck hadn't expected keeping the others out of the loop to prove so difficult, as they are all so intertwined in one another's lives.

Waiting a bit longer to tell the others was a decision they'd ultimately made together—wanting some time to figure out just who they were together before letting everyone else in. But Buck thinks that in so many ways, they've already known from the start who they were when they're together. A new label isn't really going to change anything between them, other than maybe certain private physical aspects.

In the same breath, as difficult as it felt to keep the thing between them hidden—the secret—it was simultaneously much easier to keep than Buck ever thought. Though it isn't the first secret he and Eddie have ever shared, and it certainly won't be the last. With their physical distance, it makes Buck feel closer to Eddie while he's on shift. And like—Buck knows he's clingy. Nearly every single one of his past exes has said as much with a lilt of condescension. Eddie, though, has always seemed to like that about him, appreciating the quirk in a way none of the others had.

Buck concedes that maybe they're a little too codependent for their own good, and that means that after having Eddie in his direct line of sight or in his general vicinity nonstop for the last few weeks… Well, it's an adjustment returning to shifts without his best friend glued to his hip. All of this over-thinking was just a long-winded way to admit that he misses Eddie while he's stuck at work. When he'd confessed as much to Athena and Bobby, embarrassingly, over dinner—Bobby had teased Buck that they were in their honeymoon phase. Athena had then joked that she doubted that the pair of them would ever leave the honeymoon phase.

In the following days, weeks, and months, as Eddie continues to rest and heal, a lot of his on-shift free time is spent FaceTiming Eddie, despite the fact that when his 24 or 48 or 72-hour shift is up—he's going right home to him. The others enjoy teasing them about their inability to be separated, but Buck has never had any shame about openly FaceTiming Eddie around the station, even when they were only on opposing shifts, and he doesn't intend to start now. Besides, his friends' teasing words were all in good fun.

So yeah, Buck has been off-kilter since his very first week back. With nearly three months' worth of shifts completed without Eddie, between then and now—well, it feels as though they've been apart for a lifetime. Which is definitely a bit of a dramatic thought, even by Evan Buckley standards.

So after three long months, Eddie's official return to the station allows Buck to feel calm in a way he hasn’t since things went sideways, long before Eddie left LA. It finally feels like all the little pieces of his life are all finally slotting back into place, where they belong. And today wasn’t just Eddie’s first day back—but it marked something even more important. They were finally going to tell the 118—the house and their impending marriage. Bobby and Athena were hosting them in celebration of Eddie’s birthday and first day back with the 118 tonight after their 12-hour shift. Buck can’t barely believe it—today is the day.

He’s naturally full of nerves and emotion from the moment he wakes up. It also makes for one of the longest shifts of Buck's entire life. Too much to look forward to—including seeing all of his favorite people in one place and then telling them he was spending the rest of his life with his other two favorite people.

Buck makes it to work too early, with a coffee in hand for Eddie. A treat for his first day. He'd resisted the urge to bake a few dozen cookies about it, impossibly.

"Are you excited for today?" He looks up at Bobby, who is studying him as if he's an especially interesting specimen.

"I think so? Nervous."

"For which part?" Bobby asks, gently amused.

"All of it. Eddie's first day back, then this evening…"

"Nothing is changing, Buck. Not really."

"I know. I'm just…" Buck wets his lips. "I almost lost him again, Bobby. Life feels so fragile these days. The more I love him and Chris, the scarier it is."

"Unfortunately, that's one of the hardest parts of life. That isn't going to get any easier. In my experience, it just grows deeper and wider by day."

"Doesn't that, like, scare the shit out of you?" Buck sets a hand on his chest. "It feels like I haven't been able to breathe."

Bobby squints at him. "Are you still on your anxiety meds?" When Buck feels himself blush, Bobby rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you should make an appointment."

"5 AM and I'm catching early morning strays," Buck complains when Hen joins them in the lounge. She laughs when she notices that Buck has a second coffee. "Morning, Hen."

"Is that for Eddie?" Hen gestures to the cup. "I brought him one too."

"He'll never turn down caffeine. He's a damn addict," Buck complains. "I spent too much time in El Paso drinking whatever sludge he had available since he doesn't like buying the nice blends because they're more expensive."

Bobby murmurs something about breakfast and heads toward the kitchen, leaving Buck and Hen alone. There are a couple of moments of comfortable silence between them before Hen speaks. "So, are you excited for Eddie's first day back?"

"I love you, Chim and Ravi, but it's not the same without him."

"I know what you mean," Hen admits, a small affectionate smile on her face. "Speaking of Eddie, I wanted to ask you something." Buck studies her face suspiciously before nodding for his friend to go ahead. "I know you and I haven't talked about…well, how things were before you left for El Paso, but I know you two have mended things. I was curious if you're planning to tell him how you feel." Her voice is full of serious concern, and Buck loves her for it. Buuuuut, he can't spoil tonight's surprise, so instead he plays dumb.

"Tell him what?"

Hen's patience gives way to exasperation. "You know full well what I mean, Buckley. Your feelings are written all over your face anytime you're in the room with him. Don't play coy with me!"

Buck weighs his next words carefully. He feels bad for lying to her—and is extremely thankful that he's managed to fend this conversation off for so long. He and Hen had many candid conversations about the ins and outs of his feelings for Eddie—even more candid was that conversation the day he'd finally snapped and told Hen the truth about Eddie dropping contact. They've danced around things since then—but this is the most direct either of them has been since. About 14 hours from now, she'll probably be kicking his ass after their declaration of marriage, so he should at least have some fun with it while he has a chance.

"Hen…"

"If you aren't ready, that's fine. But have you at least thought about it?" She's all soft around the edges, searching his face for something—anything.

"Of course I have. We're living in each other's pockets. Sometimes I feel like it's all I think about."

Hen makes a sympathetic noise. "I think you should just tell him. Even if he doesn't—or can't—return your feelings, it would be a weight off your shoulders."

"It's just…complicated, Hen. And we're still living together!"

"But just think, maybe you won't even have to look for a new place if you tell him now."

There's a small commotion when Chimney all but skips up the steps, calling out to them, "Look what the cat dragged in." Eddie is hot on his heels, a coffee, presumably provided by Chimney, in hand.

"Guess we'll both have to try harder if we want to compete with him," Hen joked, earning a spluttering laugh from Buck. She pats Buck's back encouragingly. "Anyway, think about what I said, yeah?"

"Mhm," Buck agrees softly, sending Eddie a tiny—if not shy—wave. Eddie beams back, and if Buck's feelings are written all over his face—no one brings it up.

+++

Last week he and Eddie had come into the station on their day off to sign an official relationship disclosure form. Updating their address had been strange, earlier that day they'd unpacked one of the final few boxes still left to be opened in their new home.

He's spent a lot of time skillfully dodging Ravi's questions regarding his house hunt. Bobby has graciously been aiding Buck in that endeavor. With Eddie back at his side on calls, the rest of the team has gotten nosier—he's thankful the day is a relatively busy one—too busy for too many prying questions, other than Hen prodding him from time to time.

Although Buck had kept himself busy between calls with chores, any downtime is too much downtime, which means Buck is spending extra time in his head when he isn't working in tandem with one of the others. His worries mount mid-afternoon, after a late lunch and a nap. When his pacing can't quiet his limbs or head, he goes off in search of Eddie, who he discovers is helping Chimney organize the back of the ambulance. Chimney must sense the buzz of his energy, because he peers at Buck suspiciously but is otherwise disinterested in his sudden appearance.

"You're like a dog with separation anxiety," Chimney points out, like this wasn't a fact they were all well aware of.

Eddie tilts his head, studying Buck carefully. "What's going on with you?"

"Can I, like, borrow you for a few minutes?"

"Be right back," Eddie says to Chim without ever taking his eyes off Buck, hopping down and following him out of the ambulance bay. Buck feels his eyes on him as he paces back and forth, ready to buzz straight out of his skin.

"Okay, this is going to sound crazy."

"That's a good start." Eddie leans against the station, arms crossed, expression a mix of amusement and genuine concern.

"So I had a thought. And I swear I'm not trying to get out of tonight—"

"A thought," Eddie echoes, amusement growing.

"What if we make Maddie go into labor!"

This is clearly not what Eddie is expecting him to say, because he belts out a deep laugh. "Sorry—what?"

"That's a thing, Eddie. You know it's a thing!" Buck huffs, feeling himself pout a little.

"You're not just getting cold feet?" Eddie still sounds amused, rather than offended, like maybe he'd expected Buck to have a little meltdown about the whole thing the day of—and with how well Eddie knows him, well, he probably had been expecting this little outburst. The thought is both endearing and frustrating beyond belief.

"I'm thinking of knives, Eddie. Sharp and dangerous knives! Her pregnancy hormones are a danger to our health!"

"Sometimes when you say things like that, it makes it really hard for me to be professional at work," Eddie informs Buck with a cheeky grin.

Buck gapes at him in disbelief, "What's that supposed to mean? What could I have possibly said—"

"You're so smart that sometimes it's hot when you act really dumb against your will." Buck feels himself sputter and short-circuit; he hadn't prepared himself for flirting at work—Eddie was flirting with him at work.

"I think this is a real concern we should consider, Eddie," Buck whines. "Maybe we should just wait a few more weeks."

"Why, Buck, what changes in a few weeks?"

"Well, for one, Maddie will have already given birth, and she might not kill us with the previously mentioned knives!"

"You're really fixated on these fictional knives," Eddie notes.

"It's the end of June, and she's due in August. It could be any day now!"

"Well, your honor, I would like permission to enter document A37 into evidence—and it's that she's more likely to violently kill us the longer we actually wait to tell her. It's time. We just need to get it over with. We're telling them tonight, Buckley. No chickening out on me."

Buck scowls and paces back and forth a few times. "I'm banning you from crime shows! And fine, we'll stick to the plan—since you won't take me seriously, I'm going to tell Bobby to hide the knives." Buck rushes off up the stairs to find their captain.

+++

"So, is there a time frame you've got—for telling Eddie, I mean?"

"We're still on this?" Buck complains to Hen. Bobby had not been able to offer him a reprieve—he'd only laughed at Buck when he asked him to hide the knives. Maybe Buck really is the hysterical one. "Tomorrow is his birthday. What if it ruined his entire birthday? Then from now on, it'll go down as the most awkward barbecue ever that I ruined by spilling all my messy emotions all over him!"

"Buck," Hen complains with a vague frown of concern.

"Bobby, I really think you should reconsider hiding the knives."

Bobby smirks, glancing between Buck and Hen, clearly picking up on the thread of their conversation easily despite darting in and out, mostly focused on various dinner preparations for the night ahead.

"Weigh in here, Bobby. I'm attempting to convince Buck that it's not going to ruin Eddie's birthday party tonight if he tells Eddie how he feels."

Bobby, the asshole, turns away, probably to hide his smirk. Buck glares at his back in betrayal. He turns back towards Hen, eyes narrowed. "So, just how much money is riding on us getting together tonight?"

"What?" Hen asks innocently.

"I'm sensing a secondary agenda here, Firefighter Wilson," Buck says, wagging his finger at her. "The only explanation is that you and Karen are up for winnings on the bet." He glances to Bobby for confirmation.

"Off the record, about four grand, I think." Bobby confesses. "Obviously, not taken during work hours, nor discussed on firehouse premises."

"Ah, yes, your everyday disclosure for legal reasons, just in case Eddie and I decided to sue," Buck says with a laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Then all at once, Buck's brain catches up with him. "Wait, did you say four grand?" He all but shouts the words.

"Bobby," Hen complains.

"Come on, Hen. The team bets on everything—including my relationship with Athena, not to mention Chim and Maddie's relationship. Buck isn't stupid—of course there's a bet." Bobby reasons, thoroughly amused.

"We should still have some tact," Hen says with a humorous smile.

"Sorry, I'm in crisis. Can we get back to me? I repeat, FOUR GRAND? Just how many people have money in the pot?"

"So many," Hen confesses. Buck can’t believe Bobby didn’t mention the sheer amount of money he would be winning! When he looks at Bobby accusingly, he’s already beating Buck to the punch.

"For the record, if I win, Athena and I will happily split our winnings," Bobby remarks, with an innocuous grin. If only the team knew what a shit he really was.

"Things got a bit out of hand. Dispatch is involved, a few other stations, hospital staff, B-Shift, and C-Shift, oh, and a few of Athena's friends at the station. Fifty dollar minimum buy-in."

"You know, I can't decide whether or not I should be flattered so many people are pulling for me."

"Pulling for you to do what?" Eddie asks, causing Buck to jump about a foot up in the air. He turns to look at him and Chimney shadily.

"Huh?"

"Pulling for you to do what?" Eddie repeats, knowing perfectly well that Buck had heard exactly what he'd said. Chimney is looking between them all suspiciously, officially tuned in to Buck's strange behavior, which has admittedly grown more erratic as the final countdown to the end of the day began.

"There's only a minute left of our shift," Buck says, too loudly in the quiet space. "I'm going to go change. It looks like B-Shift is already arriving." He is gone like a shot, leaving Hen and Bobby laughing at his expense, while Eddie and Chim to stare after him curiously.

+++

Buck's senses are approaching fight-or-flight mode when they finally make it to Bobby and Athena's. Oftentimes they arrived early, so Buck could help Bobby out in the kitchen—and although they're on time today, they're still the last three arrivals. Buck is ready to buzz out of his skin as they drift towards the house. Chris is already heading into the home now, comfortable now that he's been there a handful of times.

"Nervous?" Eddie asks, although it's closer to a statement than an actual question.

Buck purses his lips together, and he nods, lifting his hand to his pulse to check his heart rate. "You think that they're going to kill us?"

Eddie smirks. "Oh, definitely when they find out how long we've kept this from them."

Buck drops his hands to his side uselessly. "Maddie is absolutely going to kill us, and then Chris will be an orphan… Remind me why I insisted on waiting to tell her? If I were smarter, I would have told her when we were still back in El Paso. And when she was still a normal amount of pregnant and not extremely ready-to-give-birth-any-second pregnant. Eddie, what did I do? She's my big sister. She's good at keeping secrets!"

"Buck," Eddie says, laughing, and rests his hands on Buck's shoulders. "Maddie is not going to go into labor." There is a mix of exasperation and adoration in his voice. "Everyone will pretend to be annoyed with us, but they'll all be extremely happy for us. You're overthinking this."

Buck feels himself begin to relax, nodding along in agreement. "That's a good point."

"They're going to give us a hard time because they love us. And for some reason bullying is our collective love language. And if anyone is genuinely mad, I'll lie and pull the—'I wasn't ready to come out yet, card. And that will shut them right the hell up, alright? Now breathe, Buckley."

"You're evil, and I love you," Buck says, unable to keep himself from chuckling. Eddie glances at the closed door, just to make sure there is no one watching, before leaning up to kiss him, which Buck receives happily. "We should go in, shouldn't we?" Buck murmurs.

"Come on," Eddie shoves him towards the door, slapping his ass on the way by, earning a surprised yelp from Buck, who is quick to rush after him.

"You can't just—" Buck is blushing and spluttering. He tugs at his collar when Eddie simply casts a smirk over his shoulder, knowing exactly what effect he was having on him. "You're the worst!"

Everyone seems wholly unsurprised when they arrive together, earning hoots and cheers of excitement for Eddie—the guest of honor this evening.

Karen strides toward them, giving Eddie a big hug, which Buck's boyfriend accepts graciously. "Happy early birthday, Eddie!"

"Thanks, Karen," Eddie says appreciatively, allowing her to lead him over to where the others are spread between the living room and the backyard.

"You know, I popped by yours the other day while I was in the neighborhood, but it didn't look like you were home. How is that going? Still getting settled in while Buck looks for his new place?" There's a pinch of confusion between her eyebrows, like she was sensing something was off. Buck worries his bottom lip. Hopefully none of their friends are able to put the pieces together before they make their big announcement. Everyone had different pieces and inconsistencies given to them the past few months. He and Eddie are probably just lucky no one figured things out sooner.

Eddie casts Buck a nervous glance. "Something like that," Eddie agrees blandly. He's relieved when they're beckoned outside by Chimney, interrupting the conversation. Their friends in the living room and kitchen area all move outside to mingle, so no direct attention is on either of them. Chim is quick to feed him and Eddie beers, and Maddie crosses the backyard from where she's been chatting with May to give Eddie a giant hug and kindly wish him a happy birthday and congratulations on his first day back at work. And Buck thinks that it serves him right, when Eddie turns to give him a desperate and alarmed look once her back is turned to them.

Under his breath to Buck, Eddie says, "She's going to kill us."

"That's what I've been telling you!" Buck argues smugly. "We're dead!"

"No, you don't understand, Buck. She wished me happy birthday and then thanked me for always taking such good care of you—oh my god. Do you think she knows?"

"Eddie, if my sister knew, we would know. Trust me."

"We're dead…"

"What did I say? What did I say, Eddie!"

"Should we call the lawyer and update our wills?"

"Probably," Buck said mock seriously, earning a bashful, flirty grin from Eddie.

"Do you think Bobby ever hid the knives?"

"God, I hope so," Buck says emphatically, darting away. "I'll go ask."

The evening is spent mingling and eating, at some point they're able to steal another moment away together in the kitchen, when Buck offers to grab something from the fridge for Bobby. That's where he finds Eddie hiding, sitting on the floor out of sight with his back against the counter.

"Are you okay down there? Buck asks in concern.

Eddie gives him a tight-lipped grin. "I think I'm starting to get genuinely nervous. Just needed a second away from everyone. How'd you find me?"

"I didn't; Bobby sent me after some Colby Jack slices. I'm sure the cheese could wait, though."

"No, it's alright. I'm ready to rejoin the party," Eddie says, extending his hand. Buck takes it and helps pull him to his feet.

"So. On a scale of one to ten, how painful do you think it'll be?"

Buck smirks as he retrieves the cheese from the fridge. "Dying at my sister's hand? Fifteen. Bobby refuses to hide the knives. He thinks that we're being idiots."

"Well, it's not his life on the line," Eddie complains.

"Buck, we've got a major problem." They both jump, whipping around, wondering how it was possible Maddie had already found them out—and possibly even discovered the stash of knives. May glances between the two of them, a laugh bubbling out in honor of their momentary panic. "Not Maddie. Bobby told me that you're worried she's going to kill you with knives. As I was saying, there's an issue with the cake."

"The cake," Eddie repeats with a laugh and an eye roll. "Buck, I told you no birthday cake."

May winces, "Right, I forgot about that."

"Well, the kids' group chat all voted for cake!" Buck insists. "And besides, it's a damn birthday party. There's going to be cake, one way or another. And it's your favorite. The chocolate one with the rich frosting from that one bakery we get the cupcakes from. Or rather it was supposed to be…" He glances at May searchingly, wondering exactly what sort of cake catastrophe they might be having.

"Right kind of cake—there was just a mix-up. The other customer received Eddie's 'happy birthday' cake, and we accidentally received theirs… So the message… Well, you'll both have to see it for yourself."

"Buck," Bobby calls from somewhere in the distance.

Buck rushes to the patio, tossing the cheese to Chim, who catches the package with confusion. "There is a cake emergency that needs my attention. I'll be back soon." The announcement earns him a handful of bewildered and amused expressions. Bobby is unfazed by his antics after eight years of knowing one another, so he simply waves Buck off with an amused smile. He rushes back inside to gather around the coffee table with Eddie, May, and Hen.

May dramatically removes the lid, allowing her audience to get a good look at the cake. "In my defense, Harry picked it up! He didn't think to check.

"You're shitting me," Buck says with a laugh of disbelief, staring down at the chocolaty masterpiece before him.

"Swear jar," Chris says as he enters from the back patio. "What's wrong?" He crosses the room curiously, peering through his thick glasses at the confectionery. Deadpan, he looks at his father and says, "Happy Pride Month, Dad." Buck ruffles his hair and snickers, because for a moment he is seeing a miniature Eddie snarking at his own parents at that age.

"You're a little shit," Eddie informs him, earning a cheeky grin from his son, who abandons them in favor of searching for Harry and his video games. Beside them, Hen is leaning over, hands on knees, wheezing with mirth and disbelief. Eddie looks at her and gestures toward the cake. "It's a bit aggressive, don't you think?" The deadpan question is enough to send her into a second fit of wheezing laughter, and she melts to the floor, leaning back against the couch, trying to catch her breath.

"This has to be my favorite mix-up of all time." Hen says from the floor, continuing to belly laugh. Wiping tears from under her glasses and trying to regain her bearings.

"Not even a rainbow. Just…" Eddie gestures to the cake, blushing and grinning when he exchanges a look with Buck. They both look down at the cake again; it proudly proclaims in white and black frosting. "SURPRISE. I'M GAY, BITCH!"

"We can scrape it off," Hen promises. "I just need a full photoshoot of this cake. For prosperity."

"Eh, just leave it. Two birds with one stone," Eddie says dismissively, maintaining his poker face.

"Can you stop killing birds in all your metaphors?" Buck calls after Eddie as his boyfriend exits the room to return to the party. He retrains his attention on Hen, whose face has gone slack. There are a few moments as she goes through all the stages of disbelief and grief. Moments later, she's scrambling to her feet, hightailing it after her friend.

"Eddie Diaz, you come back here and tell me what the hell that means!"

Chris pokes his head in from the other room and raises his eyebrows at Buck. "Do you think they'll be more surprised you're getting married or that we live in a serial killer house now?" Once again, his poker face matches his poker face perfectly. Buck sinks into the couch with his head in his hands. "God, Maddie is so going into labor tonight," Buck mutters into his hands, massaging his temples.

"At least like more than half of the people here have delivered a baby," Chris points out cheerfully before disappearing back into the other room.

Buck looks at May. "Do you think that was supposed to make me feel better?"

May smirks at him and shakes her head, "Doubtful. That little shit is his father's kid through and through. And he was so sweet before becoming a teenager."

"You're not kidding," Buck agrees, heart brimming with affection when he reflects on his boys. The pair return their attention to the cake. "If we were smart, we could have announced our engagement through cake."

"For a triple threat surprise, you announce that you're having a baby."

"What? How did you hear we were looking into that already?" Buck says, blinking at her in surprise, before realizing she's only joking when her mouth drops open. "Whoa. Okay, wait, you didn't hear that from me. And before you get any ideas, we're just discussing it, okay! Nothing is set in stone, and we don't have a surrogate. We want to get settled in properly."

May shoves him in excitement, "You've been holding out on me! Oh my God!"

Before the conversation has a chance to go any further, Jee-Yun sprints into the house at Buck, screaming 'cake' and launching herself into his arms. The cry of excitement is enough to send Mara, Denny, and Chris tearing back outside, with Harry following more slowly on their heels.

"This conversation isn't over yet, Buckley!" May says, poking her finger in his chest. "Now go fetch his candles out of the kitchen."

"Yeah, yeah," Buck says, still flustered. "Come on, Jee-Yun, let's find Uncle Eddie's candles."

"Fire?" His niece asks.

"Exactly," Buck agrees.

+++

Eddie POV

Buck and May step outside, and the entire backyard says "Happy birthday" extra obnoxiously and vigorously, for the sake of Eddie, who everyone knows hates this part of birthday parties. He knows they drag it on just to torture him, and he kind of even loves them for it.

He blows out the trick candles, glaring at Buck when they reignites them three separate times, earning rounds of delighted laughter from all the kids, adults included.

"So like, I just want to preface that there was a mix-up with the cake," May says as Eddie props it up so everyone can get a good look at it. "The owner handed Harry the wrong one."

There's a lot of laughter when everyone gets a good look at the carefully composed words. Eddie takes a couple of photos with it—for posterity, as Hen had said—and finally Buck cuts it into slices and is content to spend the next 10 minutes delegating pieces. He feels a little giddy himself. It felt like the cake had broken some of the tension for their upcoming announcements.

"Well, Eddie, what are your birthday plans tomorrow? Chimney asks. Eddie glances at Buck, whose face is one of innocence; he's refused to tell Eddie exactly what he has planned.

"Your guess is as good as mine, but until Buck can't resist telling me any longer, I guess my current plan is to just hang out at home and relax."

"Speaking of, Dom hasn't mentioned. How is the house hunt going?" Ravi asks. Eddie is a little smug that it's him who's presented them with their opening.

"I thought you'd given up your loft a little early, but that's a big boy step," Chim says, sounding a little bit proud about it.

"Wait, this is the first time I'm hearing about this. How are you going to be able to afford that on your own? But a house—that's amazing! Are you finding anything within your price range?" Maddie says, leaning forward in excitement.

The entire table has fallen quiet now, all eyes on Buck. Eddie leans his cheek on his propped-up hand and arches an eyebrow at Buck, offering for him to lead the way.

"Well, actually, our search went really well. Dom was great, Rav." Buck praises.

"Our?" Chimney repeats meaningfully, voice lilting up teasingly. "You two finally realized that there really isn't a point in having two separate places if you hang out at Eddie's all the time, anyway?"

"Eddie's house in El Paso sold for a lot more than he bought it for, so it gave us some extra funds to put down on the new place. Plus I got a rebate." Buck wiggles his eyebrows.

"Not to mention my injury settlement money."

"That too," Buck agrees.

"So you're buying a house together?" Maddie confirms, visibly shocked.

"Well, bought a house," Eddie corrects after letting the question sit.

The entire table erupts with questions and exclamations, and Eddie is extremely smug about the disbelief on Ravi's face. Dom had clearly kept his word about discretion.

"You know, earlier when you told us that you had big news to share, Buck, I wasn't expecting you to tell us that you bought a house," Hen exclaims.

"Big news?" Chimney asks. "Nobody told me that there was going to be big news tonight."

"I definitely mentioned before we got here that Buck said he had big news," Maddie says with an eye roll, cupping her stomach and shifting into a more comfortable sitting position. "God, I'm so ready for this little guy to be born."

"Be careful what you ask for, Mads," Buck says with a compassionate nod.

Eddie just barely manages to choke down a laugh. "What, buying a house and coming out on the same day wasn't big enough for you?" He jokes. "You didn't like my birthday cake?"

"Now, hold on—" Karen says, gaping. "May said it was a mix-up."

"We got the wrong cake but still the right message," Eddie says with a casual grin. "If it wasn't clear before—surprise, I'm gay!"

Hen opens and closes her mouth a few times. "So that was what you meant earlier, when you said two birds, one stone, you asshole!"

"Again with the bird murder!" Buck complains to Eddie.

"They're fictional birds, Buck." Eddie says in exasperation.

"Well, all I'm saying is that a lot of fictional birds have been harmed recently with this metaphor."

Chimney looks around, clearly overwhelmed by all the new information at once. "Um, okay, well happy Pride Month? I think?" He looks around again, like Ashton Kutcher is about to jump out at him with cameras.

"Okay, so yeah, you got me. That's not Buck's big news," Eddie says finally.

"Hold on, are you about to say what I think you're about to say?" Maddie asks, now at attention. Everyone is staring at him and Buck, holding their breath.

Eddie looks at her and shakes his head. "I doubt it." Buck nervously wets his lips. "We've decided to get married." Eddie manages to say it with such nonchalance it takes the room an extra 30 seconds to understand what he's just said. Chimney, who had just taken a drag off his beer, sprays it everywhere, then devolves into a coughing fit. Maddie shouts something along the lines of, "Shut the fuck up." And Hen knocks over her wine. Jee-Yun, just to add to the chaos and excitement, hurls a handful of cake at Mara, who both squeals out laughs and dodges.

Ignoring the disarray, Buck dives under his chair, happily pulling out a stack of wedding invitations.

Chris sits up in his chair and happily says, "My announcement is that Buck is adopting me."

"Did you say married?" Karen asks loudly, needing confirmation.

Buck laughs, and Eddie reaches out and covers his hand with his own. "Married," Eddie confirms.

"How—when?" Maddie splutters. "Married?"

"Well, it's next month at our new place. Take one down and pass it down," Buck tells May, who obliges. "It's got our new address on it."

"Now what the hell happened in El Paso!?" Chimney exclaims, eyes darting between Buck and Eddie.

"Not what I meant, Evan!" Maddie tears open the envelope and stares at the little invitation inside, tearing up, clearly torn between hormonal joy and rage. Eddie really hopes that Bobby hid the knives. Maybe he should have suggested they hide the spoons and forks too, for good measure.

"I mean," Buck considers his words. "I think we both just knew we were getting married the moment we got together, but we discussed it officially the day I brought him home from the hospital."

"I can't believe you lied to me like that! You told me that you hadn't decided whether you were even going to tell him how you felt!" Hen realizes.

"Well, obviously, I was lying. I couldn't spoil the surprise."

"Sorry, you got together in El Paso—you've both been back for months. Months!"

"We wanted to get settled in, figure out the housing situation before the lease was up, and sort wedding details—the whole nine yards," Eddie reasons. "If it makes you feel better, we haven't told anyone in my family yet either, other than Pepa and Abuela."

"Jesus Christ," Maddie says, putting her head in her hands, clearly needing a moment to process all the information that had just been thrown at them.

The commotion slowly fades, and people start looking at Buck's honest-to-god wedding invitations with awe and admiration. Buck and Eddie spend the next 20 minutes fielding various questions. There is a collective groan when Buck tells everyone that Bobby won the pot. Bobby is very smug about the entire thing.

"Wow, that's a lot to digest in one day," Karen laughs. "So you're already settled in at your new place—I guess that makes sense. I told Hen your house looked deserted. I just swore I was going crazy. I never considered that you might have secretly moved."

"When have either of them been normal about anything a day in their entire lives since meeting one another?" Hen says, rolling her eyes, stuffing her mouth with a second piece of cake. "This is what you're doing to me. I'm stress eating."

"So, did you find a nice neighborhood? Somewhere close to work." Chim asks curiously.

"Really nice neighborhood," Eddie agrees. "It's only about a five-minute drive from here."

"How are you affording that? We've looked at the prices in this area." Karen says, with a frown, "Settlement money aside."

"They got a good deal since we're living in a serial killer house." Chris explains.

"Cool!" Denny remarks, and at the same time Mara says, "Ew."

"In our defense it was a really good deal, one I don't think a single one of you other than maybe Athena would have turned down," Buck says defensively. "All that said, Karen, please schedule a time to sage the place."

The conversation devolves from there—in the following minutes, full of lots of joy and laughter, and Eddie is so fucking happy to be here with his people. To be loved and accepted at face value in a way his parents never could. He loves the little family he's built here, with his son, Buck, and the 118.

+++

Buck POV

"Hey, Eddie. Can I borrow my brother for a minute?"

"Please take him home with you. If I have to hear him cry about dead fictional birds or experience one more bird pun this evening—"

"All I'm saying is that there are much kinder bird metaphors!"

Chris takes on a very grave tone. "It's a serious conspiracy, Aunt Maddie. Buck has come into the employment of Big Bird."

"Christopher swooping in with a Sesame Street reference!" Buck says, standing up and pressing a kiss to Eddie's temple as he does so. Chris laughs while Eddie puts his head in his hands with a groan.

"Alright, lovebird. Follow me."

"Not you too, Maddie," Eddie pleads, and Buck grins at him one more time before following his sister away from the group.

"Bobby, it's time! Hide the knives!" Eddie shouts across the yard. Buck turns just in time to see Maddie pointedly flip her future brother-in-law off. She's smiling when she turns back to him. Adoration and exasperation are written all over her face.

"No wonder you've been glowing lately," Maddie says. "I still can't believe you! Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Buck smiles a little sheepishly. "It was so new, we kind of just wanted to settle into it before telling everyone. I know it's fast, but… It's us. And announcing it tonight, I don't know, it just felt like something special."

"I can't deny that," Maddie says, carefully hugging him. "I'm so happy for you—even though I sort of want to kill you for dropping this all on me at once. Marriage, adoption, and a home?" She steps back, eyes flooding with tears as she cups his cheek. "My baby brother is getting married! God, you're growing up so fast." She wipes at the tears that fall.

"Y-you'll be my best man—or like, woman, right? Also, obviously Jee will be the flower girl. Oh my god, you should see the dress I bought her—."

"Slow down," Maddie says with a laugh. "Next month…Christ, I could kill you." She said, despite smiling widely. "Still, we've got plenty of time to discuss details. But we need a Buff-Friday where you come over and tell me everything."

"I'd love that," Buck agrees. "And Eddie and I are going to have you and Chim over for dinner soon, I promise. We'll give you the grand tour! You're really gonna love this place, Mads."

"Despite the serial killer?" Maddie jokes, pausing and using him to steady herself. Her hand grips his forearm tightly, wincing visibly.

"You okay?" Buck asks in concern, studying his sister seriously.

"More—more contractions, just Braxton Hicks, but…"

"Come on, you should sit back down—" Buck insists.

"I'm perfectly fine, Buck," Maddie complains but follows his lead back over to the table.

"Everything okay?" Eddie asks as Buck is overly cautious, helping her sit down.

"Braxton Hicks," Maddie says again. "I've had them on and off all week. The hospital keeps sending us home. It's really nothing."

"Hey, if you have him tomorrow, my nephew and I could share a birthday," Eddie says cheekily.

"Watch yourself, Diaz, don’t jinx me," Maddie says, pointing at him meaningfully.

"I told you to be careful what you wished for earlier," Buck jokes.

Maddie looks down, then back up at her brother. "I think my water just broke."

Buck rockets to his feet. "What, are you serious? This isn't payback for my joke earlier, right? Eddie, I told you we were accidentally going to send her into labor!

"You did not kick me into premature labor, Buck. I very clearly mistakenly thought they were Braxton Hicks contractions," Maddie says with an eye roll. "Now, can you do literally anything useful other than just standing there? Get my husband!"

"Chim," Buck calls into the house from where he's still standing beside Maddie, hovering anxiously. "Maddie's water broke! It's happening!"

The entire backyard seems to go quiet, then loud all at once. A million people moving in different directions, all trying to aid in getting Maddie out the door.

Chimney scrambles out into the backyard, "Oh my god, it's happening. It's happening!" He shakes Karen's shoulders, as if she didn't know perfectly well what was happening. "I forgot to grab the go bag before we left home! I'm a paramedic! How could I forget?"

"For so many people who have had kids before, you're all really bad at this!" Maddie clenches Eddie's arm as he helps her up.

"Christ, you're strong," Eddie wheezes against the pain. "Come on, I'll get you out to the car."

"Athena, I can't drive. I'm drunk," Chimney realizes in horror.

Bobby, though, already has his keys in hand. "It's fine, Chimney, I'll drive you guys to the hospital."

"I told you that we should have waited!" Buck mumbles to Eddie, right at their heels.

"Okay fine, so you told me so!" Eddie says, voice dripping with sarcasm, amused all the same.

"Yeah, Eddie, how could you do this to me?" Maddie mocks.

"It really was our fault?" Buck presses in abject horror as they reach the driveway.

Maddie rolls her eyes at her idiotic little brother, and Eddie grins at her. "Tell me, Mads. Now be honest, was it my coming-out speech?" Eddie muses conversationally as he helps her into the passenger seat of Bobby's vehicle.

"Too shocking, never could have predicted you two getting together," Maddie bites back, earning more laughter from Eddie. "Also—don't think you're getting out of the shovel talk. You and I will be having words, alone—after I've had this damn baby."

"You did say you were ready to get it over with," Eddie reasons, and he grins when she glares at him, borderline murderous.

"If I weren't in so much pain right now, I would end you for saying that," Maddie threatens.

"Athena and May say they'll keep the kids. If Jee-Yun needs clothes or anything, Buck only lives five minutes away, and I know he keeps spares." Bobby says, hustling a shell-shocked and slightly drunk Chimney into the car.

"We'll get the go-bag. I've only had two beers the whole night. I'm good to drive," Buck asserts.

"Perfect, we'll see you at the hospital then," Bobby agrees.

"Hey, just hold on for another two hours, and my future nephew and I can share a birthday," Eddie teases.

"Eddie, are you trying to make my wife kill you?" Chimney asks in panic as he closes the passenger door.

Maddie rolls down the windows to exclaim, "Don't wish that on me! Fuck you, Diaz."

"That's Buckley-Diaz, to you!" Eddie shouts as Bobby backs out of the driveway.

+++

Epilogue

Chris POV

Chris has learned a lot over the last few years, after his dad's wreck. There have been more close calls, scary moments, grief, and late nights full of anxiety. There's also been a lot of good times too—the landscape of his family has changed significantly. Adriana and Sophia are around more, and even his Abuelo visits from time to time.

He'd had to set a hard boundary with Helena in the months following his move back to LA—which his dad allowed him to do on his own terms, with as much or as little help as he needed. His newest cousin is born the night of Dad and Buck's big announcement that they're getting married. Chris cries a lot at the wedding, even if he'd never admit it… He's glad that they've allowed themselves to be happy, and he thinks that's what Mom would have wanted too.

He's a senior in high school now, and he's been looking at a handful of colleges—the three of them, him, Dad, and Buck, heal together, through the good and the bad. Chris has learned that healing happens in stages and very differently for everyone. One thing is certain: it's that life keeps moving on, even when you're not ready—and it never seems to move fast enough through the worst parts.

Bobby retires, and Chimney takes over at the station, which means Buck spends more time than ever at Bobby and Athena's—the pair of them have become something akin to grandparents for him, given that Buck's biological parents were absolute shitheads and have proven so time and time again.

The shape of his family has changed again today early on a random Tuesday morning in April. He looks up at Buck with a beaming grin, and with the baby in his lap, curls her tiny hand around his index finger. His little sister curls her tiny hand around his index finger.

"Oh my God," Buck says, sounding teary-eyed. "Say cheese!" He's using his free arm to take pictures while holding the second tiny baby in his beefy right arm. "Literally the cutest big brother in the world." Buck coos the words, and the tears spill from his eyes, like they've been doing all morning. Chris lovingly rolls his eyes. It's been an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved.

To his right, Dad sits like a stone, gazing off into space, dazed like someone has smacked him upside the head. "You doing okay over there?" Chris asks. Dad blinks, and Chris is pretty sure he hasn't even heard him.

Buck smirks at Chris, "Your dad is fine. He's still just processing. We didn't know there was going to be two of you, did we?" Buck asks the little human in his arms. "You were a biggg surprise. A big adorable surprise."

And yeah—twins. According to the doctors it was a complete accident—and no one was sure how the second baby had been missed. According to Buck, no one had realized what was happening until the doctor on shift said—here comes the second one. Their surrogate was the most surprised of all. So yeah, the last five hours have been spent wrapping their heads around the fact that there are two babies instead of one.

His dad looks up as if suddenly reactivated. "Twins. We only have one of everything. Twins? What are we going to do?" He drops his head into his hands, and Chris can't help but laugh again.

Chris leans over to look at his phone as it buzzes on the arm of the chair. "Maddie's texting me to say that she's here with breakfast. Everyone else is arriving too."

"Perfect, do you want to fetch her?" Buck asks Eddie, and he frowns when his husband stands up like a zombie and stumbles out of the room. The first tell that Buck is secretly worried something is wrong.

"The nurse can help me if you want to go with him," Chris offers. The nurse who's just entered smiles in agreement, nodding at Buck to confirm.

"Okay, yeah—do you want to keep holding Isabel for now?" Buck asks as he sets Beatriz down in her crib. When Buck suggested naming her after Chris's late bisabuela, he'd admittedly cried, touched by the suggestion. He'd latched onto it immediately. Abuela had passed just a few months after Dad and Buck's wedding—she would have loved to meet the tiny human named after her.

"Yes, please." Chris agrees, unwilling to let either of his precious little sisters out of his sight.

"I'll stay until you're back," the nurse promises. Buck runs out the door, and Chris returns his gaze back to the tiny baby in his lap.

Buck POV

Buck chases his husband down the hallway, catching him before he makes it to the waiting room. He sets a gentle hand on his shoulder, pulling him into one of the quiet rooms meant for families. "Are you okay?" He studies Eddie's face with concern—he hadn't wanted to upset Chris by asking in front of him.

Eddie still looks a little dazed, but the expression fades into something different. And after a couple more moments of assessing the situation, he's pretty sure Eddie might be having a panic attack. "I'm fine, just—. I'm fine."

"It's okay if you're not fine, Eddie. It's a lot to take in."

Eddie pulls back, pacing away from him, running his hands through his hair. "There are two of them. I barely survived, Chris, and I mostly missed this stage. I realized I don't know what I was thinking. One baby was overwhelming, but two—"

"Eddie, Eddie," Buck says, pulling him into a hug. His husband presses his face into his shoulder and breathes in deeply. "Breathe with me," Buck murmurs, stroking his hair gently and breathing slowly in and out until Eddie's breathing settles into its normal rhythm.

Buck feels his heart breaking when Eddie speaks, tears spilling out of his bloodshot eyes. "What if I'm not cut out for this?"

Buck presses his mouth firmly to Eddie's temple. "You've managed to put up with me for over 12 years now, and you've even nursed me back to health a few times—I'm definitely harder to handle than a baby. Plus, we've literally babysat Jee and Bee like a million times now. You're a pro at the baby stuff." He feels Eddie laugh against his shoulder, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Besides, it's not going to be like back then... We have a really wonderful support system, a lot of whom are currently in the waiting room down the hallway. They'll help us without judgment.

"I'm sorry… I'm just…panicking, I guess." Eddie explains, averting his eyes, looking ashamed.

"Come on, Eds. You know you don't have to apologize for that. I'm overwhelmed too, trust me. I might not look like it, but I'm actually totally freaking out right now."

"I'd say you look really hot doing it, but you look like death warmed over right now."

"Thanks," Buck says sarcastically. They stand for a couple moments longer, taking in their final moment of peace for the foreseeable future.

"Twins," Eddie breathes out, setting his shoulders. "We have fucking twins."

"It would happen to us," Buck says in amusement. "The doctors' consensus is that it should have never happened—well, that we shouldn't have found out as they were being born, that is. Pretty sure some people are getting fired. Listen, if you need more time before—"

"No, I'm ready—I just needed to get out of my head, I think. This is supposed to be such a happy thing. Sorry for…"

"It's reminding you of when Chris was born," Buck says knowingly. "Instead of Helena, you have an Athena Grant rooting for you, though. Okay? We've got a lot of wonderful parents all around us, rooting for us. So like, don't apologize, okay? I get it. But we're gonna be okay."

"Stop with the platitudes before you hit me with something like it takes a village," Eddie says with a tiny sardonic grin, earning an exasperated scoff from Buck.

"I'm trying to be soothing!"

"It's working," Eddie admits. "Thank you."

"Whatever, now, let's go see our village before they beat down the doors of the waiting room with pitchforks and fire for taking too long."

Eddie laughs and agrees, "Did Chris say Maddie brought food? I'm starving."

"You heard correctly," Buck agrees with a grin, opening the door for Eddie, leading to the waiting room where they find their family huddled in a group. There are excited murmurs, but they're all bedraggled from early wake-ups and rushed exits. Quite rude of the babies to decide to be born at three am.

Bobby shoots to his feet the moment he sees them. "Hey, you two."

Everyone turns in excitement, wide-eyed with happiness. "Girls. We have twins!" Buck announces happily. The waiting room descends into quiet, adoring chaos.

+++

Eddie POV

Eddie bounces a crying Isabel in his arms, trying to soothe her. It had been rough, sleepless weeks of fussy crying babies—the first months were always difficult.

After the news of unexpected twins, the 118 had rallied on their behalf. Eddie should have known from the start there would be nothing to worry about. Still, it was a little unexpected returning home with the girls that first day and seeing the impact of what a caring family really looks like.

There were more diapers, more clothes, a second crib—more of everything. It's just enough and too much, and Eddie had admittedly sobbed with overwhelmed relief when their friends left them alone—once Chris had gone to bed. Buck had stroked his hair, murmuring soft encouragements. They were tears of relief, really; the 118 have impossibly managed to heal a piece of his past with their tireless love and dedication.

The all-consuming dread he'd experienced in the hours after the girls were born had faded quickly, and although he was obviously exhausted a few months in—it was so fucking worth it. He can't get over how lucky he is, as he moves around the room with Isabel, checking on Beatriz on the way past.

He glances over at Maddie, who is sitting on the couch, helping by folding a million pairs of tiny baby jumpers and onesies. She'd spent the afternoon keeping him and Buck company so they could have real human contact that wasn't two crying babies and a grunting, moody teenager.

Maddie smirks when she catches his eye, glancing at Isabel, who has finally calmed. "You know this is just karma, right?"

"Huh?" Eddie asks in confusion.

"For Bee waiting 10 hours to be born on your birthday. This is your karma, surprise twins."

"Watch it, Buckley," Eddie teases softly.

"That's Buckley-Han to you," she replies with a wide smile.

Isabel curls into Eddie's shoulder and sticks her tiny thumb in her mouth. Eddie rubs her back gently and hums softly. He could have never imagined this would be his life that first day stepping into Station 118. It wasn't supposed to be anything more than survival—he'd definitely never expected it could turn into this: a broad, dysfunctional family. He never expected to get a husband and two new kids out of it, nor an extra big sister, or a captain who treated Eddie like his own.

Nothing in his life feels the same—and he's glad it isn't. He's grown and begun anew.

One thing is certain, through all of it… Eddie Buckley-Diaz loves his huge, ever-evolving family. He would never trade any of it for the world—not even lovingly irritating big sisters like Maddie.

"Girl-dads look really good on the pair of you. What would you say to another set? Boys this time?"

"Let us survive these two first, you heathen!"

"I didn't hear you say no…" Maddie teases.

"Buck, get in here. Your sister is trying to kill me!" Eddie calls into the kitchen. Buck appears in an apron, very rumpled and covered in flour, like he'd been rolling in it rather than baking. "Baking accident?"

"Fell asleep on my feet for a second, bumped the flour over," Buck admits in embarrassment.

"I told you to take a nap while Maddie is here," Eddie reminds him. "Cookies can wait."

"Is Isabel sucking her thumb? Oh my god, where's my phone?" Buck rushes into the other room, returning to take a few quick photos of her sleeping form.

"You're ridiculous," Eddie informs Buck and leans up to kiss his giant, adorable idiot, because what else was there to do?