Chapter Text
Eddie heads out not long after dawn, hoping to beat the commuter traffic on his way up to Angelus Oaks. That's probably optimistic of him, in Buck's opinion, though at least in the morning traffic tends to flow west toward the city. He can't blame Eddie for being eager. It's been three weeks since Christopher has been home, and the semi-regular phone calls are no substitute for having his kid here in person.
Normally, Buck would probably drive up with him if he didn't have to work. That's what they did last year, when summer camp was only two weeks long, and Chris flung himself into both their arms with no sign of his burgeoning adolescent dignity, chattering a million miles a minute about watershed ecosystems and the latest pre-teen drama. He could go this time, too. Eddie offered. But Eddie is also planning to talk to Chris about them on the way home, and Buck thinks it's probably better if he's not there for that initial conversation, just in case it goes badly.
"He's not going to be mad," Eddie says, leaning against the counter and watching as Buck fixes coffee for both of them: Eddie's in a travel mug, his own in the novelty giraffe mug that Chris got him for his birthday a couple of years ago and that he always keeps over here.
Buck shrugs. "He might be."
"He loves you. You know that."
"Sure, as his dad's friend Buck who takes him to the zoo on the weekends."
"You're more than that to him, and you know it." It's mild, though. Buck sighs, undone by the gentleness in Eddie's voice, and in his face when he finally manages to look up at it. This might be easier if Eddie would get annoyed, if he'd scoff and dismiss Buck's worries out of hand. Then Buck would have something to push back against. But Eddie looks soft, still a little sleepy, his hair fluffy and his shoulders relaxed under a t-shirt that he definitely stole from Buck at some point.
"Yeah, okay," he says, because it's true. "But that's still not the same as me being your—your boyfriend." There's still a thrill in saying it, and another one in the automatic way Eddie smiles to hear it. "It's not the same as being—I don't know." A potential stepfather, he thinks, but it's way too soon to say that out loud. Though the truth is he's pretty sure they've done all of this backwards. He's loved Chris like his own for years now.
He loved Eddie for a long time before he ever even thought about kissing him.
Of course, now that he's started, he has a hard time not thinking about it. Last night, Eddie pinned him against the couch and took him apart with his hands and his mouth and that deliberate, attentive focus that more than makes up for the fact that he's never done any of this before that night at the loft two weeks ago, and Buck has a feeling he's going to be remembering it and getting distracted every time he tries to sit down and watch a movie there.
He said as much to Eddie last night, and Eddie grinned like that was on purpose and told him that they won't exactly be able to fuck on the couch when Christopher is home so they might as well take advantage when they have the chance.
Eddie keeps saying things like that, with a sense of confident inevitability about the future. Buck is still feeling like the other shoe has to be getting ready to drop. Like he told Eddie that first night, he doesn't get this lucky.
Except, somehow, this time he has. He clears his throat and turns back toward the counter to twist the lid onto Eddie's coffee mug, and when he turns to hand it over, Eddie is much closer, sliding easily into his space.
"Here," Buck whispers, pressing it into his hands.
"Thank you," Eddie says. He takes the mug and sets it gently down on the counter without looking away. When he reaches up to cup Buck's cheek, his palm is warm. His lips are warm, too, and his mouth tastes faintly of toothpaste, and the kiss lingers for a sweet moment before Eddie finally pulls back.
"I'm being stupid," Buck says, because he knows he is.
"You're not."
"I kinda am." He's the one who said that Chris already likes him, back when he brought this whole idea up; back when it was mostly still a joke. Chris does like him. Chris loves him. He knows that.
"You're being anxious," Eddie concedes, because therapy has given him a thing for naming his emotions, and also Buck's, which would be more annoying if he was ever actually wrong about them. His hand is still warm on the side of Buck's face. "He's not going to be mad about it. But even if he is, we will work through it, together, as a family. Because that's what we are. Okay?"
Buck drops his head onto Eddie's shoulder to hide his face against the warm fabric of his t-shirt. Eddie pats the back of his neck and lets him do it.
"Okay," he says finally, muffled. He rubs his face against Eddie's shirt again. "You promise you're not going to dump me if he smashes a salad bowl over this?"
"I promise I will not dump you if our kid has a tantrum about us finally getting our act together," Eddie recites solemnly. Buck laughs against his shoulder and finally pulls back.
"Our kid, huh?"
"Has been for years," Eddie says. His expression is very soft. "I'll text you once I get there."
"Yeah." Buck swallows. "And if he's upset, or if he doesn't want to see me when he gets home…"
"Buck."
"I'm just saying, let me know. Okay?"
"I will keep you updated," Eddie promises, and kisses him one last time, taking his time about it, before he scoops up his keys and his coffee and heads out to the truck.
Buck occupies himself for a little while with his coffee, lingering over it until the dregs are cold while he tries to convince himself that he's absorbed by the Wikipedia article on marine biology that's been open in his tabs for like a month. After he reads the same sentence about estuaries six times in a row without absorbing it, he finally sets his phone down and concedes defeat.
Rationally, he knows Eddie is right. There's every possibility that Chris will be fine with it; happy, even. Even if he's upset, it won't be the end of the world. They'll work it out. He knows Eddie better than to think that he'll abandon Buck over this.
He knows Chris better than to think he'll hate Buck over this.
With a groan, he pushes his coffee back and buries his face in his hands. Because that's what this is really about, isn't it? Eddie is a known quantity, for all that this is new. Eddie's an adult who can make his own choices. But Christopher—he's a kid, and it's his dad's job to do what's best for him; it's Buck's job to do what's best for him, and how unbelievably selfish is it to assume that what's best for him could possibly be Buck?
He flips his phone over. The lock screen is a looping video of the empty beach at dawn, waves lapping at the shore, the ocean blending seamlessly in the distance with a hazy gray sky. His home screen, after he puts his thumbprint in, is a picture of Eddie and Chris grinning cheesily at the camera below the Hollywood sign, which Buck dragged them to after Eddie let slip they'd never actually been. Eddie complained cheerfully the whole time, but he went along with it.
The trip was back in April. The photo's been his background since then. He's never thought anything of it.
They've done this all backwards. This isn't new. But all that means is that he has a lot more to lose than if Eddie were just some random hot single dad he met up with on Tinder.
Eventually, he makes himself get up. He puts his coffee cup in the dishwasher along with last night's dishes and turns it on, then wanders through the house picking up the various shirts that Eddie has tossed over the back of furniture, the pile of socks by the doorway that were were pulled out of shoes but never quite made it to the laundry basket. He starts a load and folds the towels that were left in the dryer, and even that isn't new, the way he just absently does Eddie's household chores even when Eddie isn't home.
Maybe he should head back to the loft. He can come over later for dinner, if Chris still wants to see him.
He sets the stack of towels down on the counter, then drops his face onto it, breathing in the smell of Eddie's laundry detergent.
So maybe he's freaking out a little bit right now.
He was probably due, to be honest. The sex didn't do it, but that was something that Buck at least theoretically knew about himself—that he thought Eddie was hot, that he sometimes wondered idly what it would be like to suck his dick.
(Fantastic, by the way, is the answer. Eddie is so responsive, and the way he likes to watch Buck while he's on his knees—well, it does things to Buck that he still hasn't completely wrapped his head around even though they've had sex at least a dozen times by now.)
But this? This is scary as hell, because all he can see now is the life he's built, the family he's woven himself into, and how much it would hurt to lose it.
He's not going to lose it. Eddie promised. Buck believes him. He does.
His phone chimes on the counter where he left it. The text message is from Eddie: a picture of Chris under the eaves of one of the cabins, rows of stripped bunk beds just visible inside waiting for the next batch of campers. Chris's glasses reflect the brilliant sunlight, obscuring his eyes, but his smile is enormous.
He says he misses you. Be home in a couple of hours, the attached text reads. After that, almost shyly, is a second message containing only a red heart emoji.
Buck swallows hard, nods to himself, and replies, ok. see you then ❤️❤️
It's well after noon, approaching one o'clock, when he sees Eddie's truck round the corner on the far end of the street. Buck rises to his feet on the front step, twisting his hands together before shoving them in his pockets. His stomach feels like it's full of snakes trying to eat each other.
Eddie didn't text him to say that Chris wanted him gone, so he's still here. He only feels a little bit like he's about to puke.
The truck slows in front of the driveway. The windows are down, and he can hear music—old-school country, which Eddie only really listens to when he's driving. Buck stands awkwardly on the second step, watching as he pulls to a stop and cuts the engine. The windows go up a moment later. Eddie's door swings open, and he lifts a hand to Buck with an easy smile, and something unclenches a little in Buck.
The back door swings open as Eddie circles around to pull Christopher's bags out of the back of the truck, slinging them over his shoulders. Christopher clambers down, shaking his ruffled curls out of his face. He says something to Eddie that Buck can't hear, then lifts his head, grins hugely at Buck, and waves.
"Hey, Superman," Buck manages.
"Hey, Buck." He crosses the walk as Buck steps off the stairs, meeting him on the sidewalk to bump into his side. Buck slings an arm across his shoulders, marveling anew.
"You got taller in the past three weeks, didn't you?"
"No," Christopher protests, laughing.
"No, you did, I swear you did. You left, and you only came up to here" —Buck demonstrates with his hand at about sternum-height— "and now look at you."
"Maybe you just have a bad memory," Chris suggests.
"Yeah," Buck says, as Eddie comes up the walk behind Chris. He's got a duffel bag over his shoulder and a very soft look in his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
"So. Are you moving in with us now?"
"Um." Buck blinks. "What?"
"Dad says you guys are dating now. Does that mean you're moving in with us?"
"Um. It's, uh." He cuts a slightly panicked look at Eddie, who grins broadly and does not help him out. "It's a little early to think about that, buddy."
"I don't see why. You guys have known each other forever."
"Well, yeah, but there's a lot of—I mean—"
"Christopher, come on, give him a break," Eddie says, taking pity on him at last. He's still grinning, though. He doesn't seem freaked out at the suggestion.
Christopher rolls his eyes huffily. "I'm just saying."
"Yeah, well, maybe we can all have some lunch before you start trying to orchestrate Buck's living arrangements, huh? We stopped at Los Guichos," he adds, to Buck. "Figured you probably hadn't eaten yet."
"No, I—" He laughs breathlessly as Eddie approaches. "No. Not yet."
"Thought so," Eddie says, and leans in to press a kiss to the corner of Buck's mouth, quick and sweet and way too chaste for the way it takes Buck's breath away.
"Gross," Chris mutters.
"Watch it, mijo."
"I'm going to go inside and not watch it, actually," Chris says, but he's grinning as he ducks out of Eddie's attempt at ruffling his hair. The door swings shut behind him a moment later, and Buck sags slightly.
"Told you," Eddie says mildly. He kisses Buck again, lingering over it a little more now that Chris is out of sight. "Can you grab the takeout bags? They're still in the cab."
Buck takes a deep breath. "Yeah. You got my mulitas, right?"
"Course," Eddie says. There's a faint, crooked smile on his face, and Buck doesn't think he's ever been this transparent to anyone he's dated in his life. Eddie doesn't call him on it, at least. "It's all there. I'm gonna bring the rest of this in."
"Yeah, okay," Buck says, and he lets go of Eddie and goes to get their lunch out of the truck.
In some ways, none of this is very weird at all. He and Eddie have always been close—codependent is the word that Chim uses, and Buck doesn't think he's entirely joking. There's none of the tentativeness he associates with the getting-to-know-you stage of dating, because they've done that already, years ago. There's no point in trying to put up his most charming and likable front so that Eddie doesn't get disenchanted with him and flee into the night. Eddie already knew pretty much everything there is to know about him when he let Buck kiss him in his kitchen that night, when he kissed Buck back, when he took Buck's hand on the couch when he was halfway to panicking about it after they'd gotten each other off and said, this, us, it just makes sense, in a tone so matter-of-fact that Buck had to believe him.
On the couch, after Chris has gone to bed that night, a debate over what to watch turns into a wrestling match for control of the remote that ends with him flat on his back on the area rug with Eddie pinning him easily with his hips and his hands at Buck's wrists. He's grinning, flushed and beautiful in the lamplight, and Buck has a strange, jarring moment of panic at how badly he wants to kiss him.
"Match to Diaz," he manages breathlessly, and Eddie laughs again, relaxing his grip.
"You're easy," he says, pulling Buck up.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," Eddie says, and he's still smiling when Buck closes the distance between them to kiss him, half to prove to himself that he's still allowed to do that now.
Eddie catches at his cheek, pulling him closer with an eagerness that soothes the part of him that can't stop insisting that this must have been a paperwork error on the part of the universe. Buck makes a noise into his mouth and Eddie swallows it, swaying against him, and if Chris wasn't right down the hallway it might keep going from there, but he is, so after another minute or so they break apart. Buck takes some pleasure in the way Eddie's eyes are dark and slightly dazed for a few seconds after the kiss ends.
"Shut up," Eddie says in response to whatever his face is doing, and leans in to kiss Buck again, quickly.
"I bet we could be quiet," Buck says, more to make Eddie laugh than because he actually wants or expects to have sex on the living room floor right now.
"Yeah, we can be quiet behind a locked door," Eddie says primly, but he laughs a moment later anyway.
"So, uh," Buck says. "Not to derail us from that extremely important line of conversation—"
"Right."
"—but have you thought about if we should tell everybody else? Or when? Or—I don't know. I know you wanted to tell Chris first."
"Which we did."
"Yeah." Buck looks down at his hands.
Eddie pokes him in the shoulder. "You're in your head. What is it? You worried about telling everybody?"
"No," Buck says, which is half true. There's paperwork they'll need to fill out at work, and this means that neither one of them will ever be in the running for fire captain unless the other one moves to another house, and—and that's part of it, too, isn't it, the way his mind continually shies away from the possibility of that kind of longevity. The kind of future where this'll still be a consideration by then. The kind of future where Buck gets to keep this.
"You're freaking out again."
"I'm not freaking out."
"Yeah, you are," Eddie says mildly.
"I'm not freaking out about us," Buck says, because he knows he's not the only one with sore spots, and he doesn't ever want Eddie to think that he's got one foot out the door.
"Okay," Eddie says. He doesn't say anything else, but there's an air of patient expectation to the silence.
Buck groans and drops his head back against the couch cushion, then rolls it until his forehead is pressed against Eddie's shoulder. "I want to tell Maddie first."
"Makes sense."
"And she won't tell Chim if I ask her not to, but that's not fair. Well—I don't know, actually, she might tell him."
"They are engaged," Eddie agrees.
"Yeah. And you know if Chim knows he's never going to be able to keep his mouth shut about it at the station. Although, you know what, he'd deserve that, actually."
Eddie snorts. "You're not still holding a grudge about that."
"I could be."
"Sure. But you're not."
Buck laughs. For a little moment, there's silence between them. The TV is playing Love Island, somehow, instead of Buck's Ninja Warrior or one of the cooking shows Eddie has gotten hooked on, and he doesn't actually know where the remote ended up.
Finally, he says, "I want to tell Maddie."
Eddie nods. His shoulder moves against Buck's cheek as he wraps an arm around him, pulling him close. "Okay. So start there."
They share the bed that night, the first time they've actually done that without having sex. Eddie's pillow smells like him, and he can hear the soft rushing of Christopher's noise machine from across the hallway. The light seeping in over the top of the curtains casts angular patterns on the ceiling, and Eddie is a warm, loose-limbed shape on the mattress beside him.
He wants so desperately to keep this, exactly this. It's not a new hunger, but the fierceness of it in this moment almost scares him.
He burrows down under the blankets, and when he curls tentatively against Eddie's spine, Eddie lets out a soft, half-awake noise and settles into his arms.
Buck tucks his face against the back of Eddie's shoulder and closes his eyes.