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Chapter Text

Buck is furious to the point that he’s shaking. There’s blood rushing through his ears and all he can think is you’re not ready you’re not ready you’re not ready you’re not ready. There’s a lawyer’s card burning a hole in his pocket and the lingering taste of the bite of food he’d managed before Bobby’s revelation.

He needs to– he should– there’s got to be a way he can–

He pulls over and parks on a random street because he can’t focus on the road and he can’t go home go home– he shouldn’t go out, he’s really trying to turn over a new leaf since his last relationship blew up in his face while he was lying in a hospital bed, but– there’s also a rectangle of card stock in his pocket screaming at him to pick up the phone.

He steps out of his Jeep so he can breathe air that isn’t full of his own exhalation. He leans against the door and sees he’s parked in front of a series of stores– a closed coffee shop, a fancy looking home goods store that has some interesting stacked bowls in the dark window front, and one shop that’s still got its lights on. It’s called Tatuar and Buck made enough bad calls in Peru to know that that is the verb for tattoo.

He is absolutely not supposed to get a tattoo on blood thinners, and he still has a firm enough grasp on his own health that he won’t, but it doesn’t mean he can’t window shop. Throw down more money than he should on a booking, consult with someone who will hold him down and give him something real and tangible to funnel all the despair and fury he’s feeling into.

The shop is nice. Kind of empty compared to other places he’s dropped in on, no pounding bass or dark corners. There’s photos on the walls of people’s finished work and sketches around them– all types, from small hand pieces to full backs. There’s a big wall of flash, and Buck can tell that there’s at least two artists in the place– maybe more– but definitely one who does some American traditional, and one who does pieces Buck can’t look away from.

They’re layered colors and geometric blacks– shapes woven in and out of each other– none of them look like anything but they all feel like the shapes that move behind his lids when he rubs his eyes.

“Welcome.” A kind voice greets him, and Buck twists, surprised by a man coming up from the back, “sorry to have kept you waiting– I sent the regular front desk kid home, and I was just wrapping up some client sketches and cleaning.”

Buck should respond. He should. It’s just– the guy in front of him is so hot . Buck had figured some things out about himself thanks to a pretty deep dive into the other side of his favorite porn sites while rotting in bed hoping his leg would be his again someday. He’d gotten off to new things and then followed it up with a pretty embarrassing take down of his ‘straightness’ in a Reddit thread.

“Okay, maybe– you’re not ready? I can give you some time, show you my portfolio.” The guy quirks an eyebrow and Buck is momentarily drawn in by the glint of the metallic bar there before the words hit him.

“I am.” He blurts out, feeling the buzzing fizzing screaming anger rush back to the front of his mind from the edges where the novelty around him had pushed it, he can’t keep the sound of it off his tongue when he speaks. “I’m ready.”

The man’s brows go up more, into the pieces of hair that curl over his forehead, tone full of disbelief when he finally replies, drawing out the vowels in “okay?”

And normally maybe Buck would back off, would apologize– tell Eddie’s it’s been a bad day, laugh and try and walk it all back, but instead Buck feels another spike because he’s tired of not being taken seriously. “I wanted to book a consultation.”

The man in front of him just looks back placidly, big brown eyes considering him, “like I said, totally understood if you need more time.”

“I don’t.” Buck bites, “I–” he swallows, licking his lips, wishing he could worry at them like he wants to, but he’d learned that lesson the hard way early on his dose when they wouldn’t clot right and it scared some lady at the grocery store. He hunts for the fight, for the words he can say to rile the guy up, to get him to argue with him, give Buck someone to raise his voice at.

Through it all the guy just looks at him, pose easy and unthreatening, head tilted to listen, and it makes the snaking guilt rear up in Buck’s chest because it’s not this artist’s fault Bobby’s been sabotaging him for weeks while Buck fought and fought and fought to get back to his family. 

“I just need to do something. ” Buck would be embarrassed at the way his voice cracks on the last word if he didn’t see  the man’s eyes soften as he looks at him, and it’s been a bad enough day that the kindness in his eyes makes Buck feel like crying.

“We can make that happen.” The man nods, holding out his hand to shake, “I’m Eddie.”

Buck reaches forward, glad for the contact, “Buck.”

Eddie glances at the clock on the wall, “I’m open for thirty more minutes. We can do an intro consult tonight, and depending on your idea we can then meet back up next week or so, once I have a couple sketches?”

For the first time in weeks Buck feels like there’s something fully in his hands– a decision that’s all his. Someone is going to hear him and work with him, not assume they know what’s best. It makes a knot he didn’t know was tight behind his sternum start to relax, “yeah, sure.”

Eddie gestures him over to a soft couch that Buck hadn’t really clocked when he walked in, blending with the deep navy of the wall behind it, “okay, Buck. Tell me your idea.”

~~~~~~

Buck’s doctor gives him the okay to start coming off his blood thinners, but lets him know it’ll be about two weeks before he can safely get a tattoo without risking a serious infection. 

Well, actually, she says two weeks is the minimum time she would consider letting a patient get a tattoo, but that she would recommend four. 

Buck votes that means two because if he goes much longer he’s going to call the lawyer just to make some headway somewhere , so he calls up Tatuar to book his appointment during his lunch break between fire marshal inspections. It’s pathetic, but true, that the thing that he’s been clinging to for the past week has been the idea he’d given Eddie, the sketches saved on his phone reminding him he is in charge of his own body even as the job he loved– loves – slips through his fingers. 

Buck works normal hours now, a regular nine to five, which he still can’t get used to and feels all pinned in by, like a bug in a natural history museum. He gets an hour off in the middle of the day and he chooses to sit on a bench outside because the emptiness he feels from not having the 118 around him is suffocating. At least he always gets to finish his lunch now– no alarm in the middle of a bite.

He’d starve forever if it meant he were back at that table.

“Tatuar, how can I help you?” The person who answers is a woman– she sounds a little out of breath, maybe annoyed, but she also pronounces the name beautifully– full of warmth, and it makes Buck smile.

“Hi! I’m calling to get on Eddie’s books in two weeks? Any time after five or on the weekends works. The name is Buck.” 

She makes a thoughtful kissing sound, like she’s pursuing her lips, “hmm, Buck, okay.” The line goes silent, and Buck waits expectantly, knee bouncing, hearing slow clicks on a keyboard. She’s definitely not the fastest receptionist in the world.

“I could make four on work, probably.” Buck offers, wondering if maybe Eddie’s booking out more weeks in advance than he’d guessed.

“No, no.” She tuts, “he has time, I am just seeing where I should put–” 

“Abuela!” Buck recognizes Eddie’s voice in the background, “why are you– give me– hello, Tatuar, how can I help you?”

Buck can’t keep from grinning, “hi, it’s–”

“I was making him an appointment, Eddito.” The woman’s voice comes through clearly even if Eddie is the one with the phone. “He wants two weeks. This one.”

“Uh–” Eddie pauses, like he’s reading, and there’s a shuffle, “uh sorry, hi Buck, glad you’ve got the okay to come in!”

Buck’s grin grows, “me too.”

“Can you do the twelfth at eight?” 

Buck checks his phone calendar, ignoring the pang of regret as he sees the empty days on it, “PM?”

“Yeah, my availability is pretty much midday or late nights.” Eddie sounds sorry, but Buck’s worked weird enough hours in his life to be unbothered.

“Eight works.”

“We can break it into two sessions if it goes late.” Eddie sounds used to clients being picky.

Buck shakes his head, “nah, I’m used to one to two day shifts, and if a truck falling on me didn’t kill me then there’s no way one night where I get less than eight hours of sleep will.”

Eddie laughs, big and warm, and it makes Buck smile in return because not everyone will play along when he’s joking about things like that. “I’ll send you the reworked sketch of that section you wanted tonight along with the paperwork I need filled out so you can make sure you have everything.”

“You got it.” Buck agrees easily, stomach already fizzing in anticipation, “see you on the twelfth!”

~~~~~

Buck hadn’t really let himself think about what it would feel like having Eddie shave his leg– the careful drag of the razor across the skin and firm grip of his fingers around Buck’s knee joint draws all of Buck’s attention to the sensations. He’s fully dressed, gym short pulled up on one leg to let Eddie have full access. Buck swallows down the tension he’s feeling now that it’s actually happening. Eddie’s going to be working on his most gnarled skin– scars and divots clear and stark against his skin.

Buck doesn’t look at his leg much now that it’s healed. Jeans go on quickly, he lounges around in sweats not shorts, and he lets himself stare at the tiles instead of his own body when showering.

The goal is to change that.

“I’m sad I didn’t get to meet your abuela in person.” He says while Eddie places the stencil, frowning at the positioning and making marks on Buck’s skin in marker so it will line up. “She seemed nice. Not the quickest with the calendar, but nice.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, still focused on Buck’s leg, “she doesn’t work here, but it bothers her when no one picks up the phone.”

“That’s cute.” Buck smiles, looking down and catching Eddie’s eyes when he looks up at Buck from the floor, a picture Buck’s going to do his very best to not think about. Eddie just has beautiful eyelashes, and his piercings make Buck wish he could have some of his own. “It’s nice that she supports you.”

Eddie hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, “she’s not in love with it.” He presses the stencil on, thumbs smoothing it down, making sure the ink transfers, hands warm and sure as they move over Buck’s leg, neither stopping at nor avoiding his scars. “But she’s trying.”

Buck nods to cover up the shiver he felt from Eddie’s grasp, “the changing public perception of tattoos is fascinating– it’s hard to unlearn things that have been true for most of your life.”

“You calling my abuela old?” Eddie says as he adds a line, connecting the stencil around the back of Buck’s calf. Eddie peels the stencil off, sitting back to look at how it lays, “bend.”

Buck bends his knee.

“What? No! I mean, she’s probably not young , because that-thats’s how time works, but–”

“Twist back and forth, slow.” Eddie says, thankfully cutting off Buck’s spiral by cupping the crook of Buck’s knee. Buck obeys the instruction, watching Eddie focus on how the piece shifts as Buck does. Eddie squeezes, and it makes Buck feel like the opposite of his knees going weak– like they could hold him up forever as long as Eddie’s hand stays there, “Good.”

Buck stays still, waiting for more instructions.

“Okay, sit.” Eddie nods to the tattoo bed, “knee bent. I’m going to prep the colors. You need anything before we start? Water? A snack?”

Buck pauses, actually checking in with his body despite his instinct to wave the concern off, unwilling to faint anywhere in Eddie’s vicinity because he can recover from surgery and being crushed, but the idea of that indignity is terrifying, “nah, I had dinner.”

Eddie shoots him a little smile, and Buck wants to preen under that look, the knowledge that he did the right thing warm in his chest.

Eddie rolls over on his stool, tray of colors at his side. Warm yellows, browns and bronzes, a pair of deep blues and some white. The colors make Buck inhale shakily, looking at their stark reality, imagining them living in his skin forever, held there by white blood cells.

His mother had gotten a pinched face the first time he’d accidentally let her see the bars on his arm, “you know tattoos are forever, Evan.”

He’d let himself be cowed back then, head down, mumbling about laser removal innovations.

But that’s the point. Tattoos don’t leave.

“Let’s get started.” Eddie says, and it breaks Buck from the memory of his mom’s face. 

He looks up, and the man is watching him carefully, so he shoots him a grin and a thumbs up that he regrets immediately for being goofy, and then doubles down on the awful instinct by saying “let’s get stabbin’!” 

Eddie laughs, so he guesses it wasn’t too bad of a joke. Either that or Eddie’s got just as bad a sense of humor as Buck. 

The first lines of the piece always feel more intense than Buck remembers. His body reacting to the intrusion by tensing, adrenaline coursing through him no matter how much work he’s done to prep himself mentally. It’s a response he can’t control, but he knows how to roll with adrenaline now. Knows how to feel it and let it run its course, to not let it make his hands shake or his skin get clammy.

He breathes through it, closing his eyes and focusing in on the buzzing sound, the stinging sensation on his calf, needles dragged across his skin putting the picture he’d described to Eddie, the one Eddie had drawn out so perfectly even in their first meeting, putting the idea into his flesh.

It makes him feel floaty, the leg that isn’t being worked on sagging into the seat, his heart racing but it’s a familiar anticipatory excitement, like hanging onto the side of the engine as they pull up to a call.

After a few minutes of settling in, making sure he can handle the pain of the location, Buck looks down at Eddie, bent over his leg, hair a little floppy in front of his face. “How’d you get into this job?”

Eddie doesn’t look up, just reaches and picks up another color, “apprenticed in El Paso, moved here when another one of the artists asked if I wanted to join her– go in on a place together.”

Buck looks at the other station, he hasn’t met the other artist yet, but he’s only been in late at night because Eddie doesn’t work weekends, “she’s the American traditional artist?”

Eddie snorts, “sort of. We both were trained in it. Fort Bliss gave us a lot of clients, and she’d been working for a few years before I started, so she’s got the flash all ready if anyone wants something with a lot of hoo-ah. It sells, even in Los Angeles.”

“The whole reason it’s a major city is ship construction for the navy, so guess that history runs deep.” Buck says, tucking one hand under his head so he can watch Eddie more comfortably. “Not an army fan?”

Eddie stills, bringing the gun back from Buck’s body, and Buck feels like he’s missed something.

“Not really, no.” Eddie says eventually, wiping at Buck’s skin, the warm lines already making Buck look down at his leg with something other than the vague annoyance he has for weeks.

“I flunked out of the SEALs.” Buck offers because Eddie clearly wants the conversation to move on. “Or, well, I was thinking about going for it, took some fitness tests and everything, but realized I would have to enlist– plus they kept talking about shutting out emotions.” He shrugs, “didn’t seem right for me.”

“So you signed up for running into burning buildings instead.” Buck can see the quirk at the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

Buck tries to keep the pang of loss from crossing his face, just smiling as wide as he can, glad Eddie’s looking down so he can’t see Buck’s expression, “exactly.”

Eddie drags the wipe across Buck’s skin, and the combination of the drag and the tingling in Buck’s skin helps tether him back to the experience, “guess you are pottery, then.”

That gets Buck propped up a little, curling so his abs have to work, “what?”

Eddie rolls back, looking at the piece so far, then meeting Buck’s eyes, “you put yourself into the kiln.”

That shocks a laugh out of Buck, “I guess I did.” He looks down at the lines of gold spreading across his skin, a web of them in an already impressive level of depth, surrounded by pink skin and streaks of wiped away purple ink. “And look where it got me.”

Eddie doesn’t let him wallow, just taps him on the thigh, “turn so I can get the back.”

Buck turns, soft material under his shin soothing as he has to press his tender skin into the bed for Eddie to wrap the gold around the back, connecting the lines from the sides. Both of them falling silent as Buck turns his head to the side away from Eddie.

He turns the image over in his mind, of him as a piece of porcelain hardened by fire. He hadn’t meant to imply it with this piece. He’s not delicate like a teacup, or expensive like the nice china that had only come out at Thanksgiving and Christmas and Maddie’s birthday. 

He’d been excited when he turned ten, thinking it would start coming out at his too now that he wasn’t a little kid anymore, but the cabinet had stayed untouched, and the last time he’d gone home for the holidays he hadn’t even been trusted with drying them.

“I don’t think I’m– this isn’t about being–” Buck says into his own bicep, “it’s about trying to show that I can be broken but still good.”

“Like Stitch.” Eddie says softly, like it’s not meant to be heard.

Buck frowns, wanting to twist and look at the man, “what?”

Eddie’s hand pauses for the second time, and Buck is now sure it means he’s considering what he should say, whether to push forward. He starts again, the bite of the needle almost imperceptible under the overall feeling of Buck’s skin. “Lilo and Stitch? He– he says his family is broken but still good.”

Eddie does a little voice that is delightful even if Buck’s never seen the movie. “Is that the blue guy?”

“Yeah. Lotta people get him tattooed, Disney adults are wild for him. Watched it while sketching a piece for a guy who wanted him climbing his bicep.” And what Eddie is saying is almost certainly the truth, but if Buck had to bet he’d say it wasn’t the first time Eddie had seen the film. 

“I was more of a Lion King kind of kid.” Buck admits just so Eddie won’t close off, “liked the whole running off to find your family thing.”

Eddie laughs, “my sister asked for gummy worms every time we rented that so she could eat them with Simba.”

“Ah. She is smarter than me.” Buck admits because his brain is buzzing and the heat in his leg is so different from the pain that’s taken root there since his accident that it feels like a different thing altogether.

This time when Eddie pauses it feels less like a redirect and more like surprise, “tell me you didn’t.”

“Eat a worm? I can’t tell you that because it would not be true.” Buck is so glad he’s face down because the memory of the sensation of biting into the earthworm he’d dug up is seared into his mind forever.

“Oh my god.” Eddie stops working to chuckle, “why?”

“They looked delicious, Eddie!” Buck gestures with one hand, “I don’t know what to tell you!”

The pressure of Eddie’s hand on his ankle returns, “I am gonna text my sister and let her know someone else is a bigger weirdo for those juicy bugs than her.”

“What happened to artist-client confidentiality?” Buck presses his forehead to the black leather, failing to keep the whine from his voice.

“Not a thing.” There’s a laugh in Eddie’s tone, “turn over, I’m gonna give you a breather and a water break before the blue.”

Buck groans and turns, glaring at Eddie who is peeling off his black gloves and standing, twisting to loosen his back, a sliver of skin at the hem of his shirt on the side making Buck resent the black apron for hiding the rest of it.

“Red or Blue?” Eddie asks as he moves to a mini-fridge and opens it, “or Capri Sun, I guess.”

Buck hasn’t had a Capri Sun in years, “ooh that!” Eddie tosses him one, and Buck catches it, stabbing into the pouch with glee. “Just as good as I remember!”

Eddie sips from his red Gatorade, shaking his head, “you’d get along with” there’s a slight pause, “all the kids people bring with them.”

Buck frowns as he basically inhales the pouch’s contents, “people bring their kids to appointments?”

“Uh, not often, but when they do we have juice for them.” Eddie makes a face Buck can’t quite read, “the pouch prevents them from spilling.”

Buck supposes that makes sense, so he just finishes the juice as he flexes his feet, making sure he still feels okay to continue. 

Buck looks down at his leg, the gaps between the liquidy looking gold waiting for a pattern. The one on the side covering one of his longer scars is a crosshatch pattern meant to look like the metal floor of the stairs of the fire engines. It’s the first pattern he’d suggested– the texture burned into his mind as something he’d stepped up onto and down from each and every shift.

He’d thought of it as a kind of promise to himself, but looking at the beauty Eddie’s forming of the formerly broken mess of his leg, he doesn’t want the physical engine anywhere near it– he loves being a firefighter, but it’s already left enough of a mark there.

“Hey could we–” he’s never changed his mind this far into a piece before, but this is the last time he can, so he points to the section. “Can we wait to fill this part in?”

Eddie nods, reaching out with his hand up for Buck’s empty juice pouch. “You wanna move that pattern or just leave it off?”

“Leave it.” Buck says with some finality, “I can find something else.”

~~~~~~

He’s back the next night, Eddie managing to give him an appointment at nine, and Buck arrives still feeling the soaring high of the hours the night before. The crisp blue geometric lines across his calf had almost made him late as he stared at them while getting ready, turning his leg back and forth as he admired the precision of them and the way the gold seemed to shine from inside his skin. 

“I watched half of Lilo and Stich at lunch today.” Buck says as Eddie gets out his inks and a couple of markers. 

Something complicated passes over Eddie’s face, “only half?”

“I only get an hour.” Buck shrugs, “so I watched what I could.”

Eddie pops the cap off a marker, moving to crouch in front of Buck again, “and?”

“Finished it while eating dinner. Cried into my chicken, you asshole. Why didn’t you warn me?”

Eddie smiles up at him before looking down and scanning over his work from the day before, “pretty sure I didn’t tell you to watch it.”

“His family loves him so much, man.” Buck can feel his lip quiver, which would be embarrassing even if Eddie wasn’t currently eye level with his dick.

Eddie’s hand tightens around Buck’s thigh, “I know. He– it’s a nice ending.”

Buck wants to crow because he was right Eddie’s watched it more than once time for a job. He looks down at his own leg, at the interpretation of kintsugi on his skin, the mending and repairs celebrated and seen, not hidden away. “Broken but still good.”

Eddie squeezes again, like he gets everything Buck was thinking, “yeah.” 

The ink from the marker is cool as Eddie sketches the shape Buck had sent him over night instead of sleeping, a nested set of rounded shapes that reminded him of a pilot flame. 

It’s slow going, since Eddie has to keep stopping to make sure the spacing works, and it’s right on the inside of Buck’s knee, which he didn’t know was a particularly sensitive area, but Eddie’s careful line work in cool marker ink is making him rethink a lot of things he’d thought he knew about his own skin.

“You’re right, this fits better.” Eddie says as he leans back, resting his weight on his heels and looking at the piece, then up at Buck, “nice pick.”

Buck is going to squirrel away every word of approval Eddie’s said to him and lock it in a little box in his gut called Do Not Open Until Done With Tattoos because lusting after his artist is okay, but it makes it hard to also be their client in the future, and Buck really likes Eddie’s work– he’s already thinking about what he could get next.

“Okay, up. Sit.” Eddie gestures at the bed, “on your side, this leg down, other leg up.”

Buck arranges himself, feeling a bit like a dog and having to push that thought away too because there are only so many revelations he can have about himself per year, and he’s drawing the line at bisexuality, that being a firefighter truly is who he is not what he does, and that Bobby betraying him hurts more than any unkind word his parents have ever said to him.

Before he can lay his leg down fully Eddie puts some cushioning and sterile material beneath his already worked skin, which makes Buck blurt out, “you’re cleaner than the last place I went.”  

Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him, “what?”

Buck gestures at his midsection where Eddie can’t see the tattoo on his skin, “I have a piece here, they barely wiped anything down.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” Eddie grimaces before looking down and beginning to work on his lines. 

Buck considers the answer, wondering just how honest he should be with Eddie about his recklessness in the past, “didn’t seem like a huge deal. They’d been in business for a while, figured if there’d been health code violations they wouldn’t be in business. Plus, I hadn’t been through most of my medical training yet so I didn’t know better.”

Eddie shakes his head, “they should know– infections happen even in good circumstances. You could report them.”

Buck shakes his head, “I was the kind of drunk where I don’t even remember where I was.”

“They let you get a piece when that drunk?” Eddie grits his teeth, “no wonder they’re also not following safe standards. They don’t care about clients’ wellbeing at all.”

“Did you have to do a lot of training?” Buck wonders as he lets the bite in his skin be the only thing his body feels, “I feel like you probably have to know a lot about like blood pathogens.”

There’s the pause again, like Eddie’s considering how much to talk about himself, and Buck waits to see what he’ll let out. “There’s courses, but I knew most of it from being a medic.” 

That is news, and the little blip of information makes Buck’s heart race even more than the tattoo on his skin. “Yeah?”

Eddie nods, “made getting all my certifications quick.”

Buck wants to ask for more. He wants to ask question after question, learn everything about the man tracing a slow steady line of blue across his skin, but he doesn’t. Hen told him over too many drinks once that she hadn’t liked him at first but he’d really grown on her. He’d begged her to tell him why to explain how he could be better and in the end all she said was that he got a little overeager sometimes, that he should let people come to him instead of always crowding into their space.

He can let Eddie come to him.

“I’m thinking my next piece I want a full size Stitch hugging my torso. All four arms wrapped around my ribs and everything. Maybe even make it look like my skin is a Hawaiian shirt.” He jokes so Eddie doesn’t have to find a new topic.

Eddie’s laugh shows off his sharp canines and makes Buck feel ten feet tall. 

Chapter Text

There are two neon pink post its on Eddie’s station when he finally makes it in. He’s a little later than he usually tries to be, but Christopher had forgotten his lunch at home and he’d had to turn around and grab it because he didn’t have any cash to give his kid to buy lunch instead. 

Alex is at her station working on a back piece she’s been chipping away at for a few weeks, a full rose window of stained glass from Notre Dame, the girl under her gun studied architecture in Paris and fell in love with the window. The precision of the art takes Eddie’s breath away when he looks at it. 

He puts his stuff down, squinting at the scribbled notes from Alex, trying to make out what she’s written. For someone who has the steadiest hand he’s seen her chicken scratch is shocking– he’s only just figured out the word ‘APPT’ when she looks over at him unimpressed, “he’s called twice since your day was supposed to start.”

“I’m–” Eddie looks up at the clock, “only a half hour late?”

Alex makes a face, “I know.” She turns back to her client, “sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The girl says quietly, a little muffled since she’s speaking down to the floor. 

The front desk phone rings again, and Alex looks at Eddie expectantly, which is fair because it’s his job to be on the desk while she’s working and vice versa. He moves to the phone, “Tatuar, how can I help you?”

“Eddie!” The voice on the other side is out of breath but instantly recognizable, “it-its Buck?”

Eddie can’t help it when he smiles, glad his back is to Alex, “hey, how are you? Ready for your consult?”

“That’s– that’s why I was calling.” Buck sounds worried, “I, I got– my captain is finally putting me back on light duty, and I really can’t rock the boat, you know?”

Eddie doesn’t, but he knows Buck’s been working to get back into the firehouse since before he met the man, “you’re back at work? That’s great!”

He can practically hear Buck puff up in pride, “it– it is , it’s amazing, and even being man behind is worth it, you know?”

“Sure, I bet.” Eddie agrees because he can guess what that term means without too much of a mental leap.

There’s commotion behind Buck, and someone calls out, making Buck yell back, “I’ll be right there!”

Eddie knows he’s smiling too big for a kind of nonsensical call in from a client, but Buck’s been so much fun to collaborate with, he’s so earnest– all bluster from their first meeting immediately drained out of him by their second, the way he stared at the reflection in the mirror after the second session like he was almost hungry for it– needed the ink in his skin. Eddie knows the feeling too well.

“But, so– it turns out I have a shift, and I don’t– I can’t try and move it or get coverage–” Buck says in a rush, “I thought I had it off, but I musta read something wrong– I can pay the late cancellation fee, of course.”

Eddie frowns, thinking about how now he’ll have to see if anyone wants a slot the next night, but unwilling to let Buck feel bad about it, “no need– it’s basically forty eight hours in advance, and I can wave the fee because… you’re a first responder. When do you next have a couple days off?”

“Uh–” 

“Buckley!” There’s another shout from somewhere else.

“I–” Buck sounds worried in just the single syllable.

Eddie doesn’t know why but he wants Buck to feel okay, even if he is making Eddie’s life a little harder. “It’s fine, call me when you know.”

Buck exhales, “I was really excited– just-”

“Buck I swear to God if we miss breakfast after that call–” a woman’s voice is close, “get off the phone!”

“Just– go upstairs without me!” Buck says to her, “I’ll be up!”

“Cap doesn’t let us–”

“I know!” Buck hisses, “give me thirty seconds!”

“Go eat.” Eddie puts a little bit of firmness in his tone so Buck will eat, “I’ll be here til two.”

Eddie likes that Buck sounds more calmer when he replies, “Uh– okay, yeah, bye Eddie.”

“Bye, Buck.” Eddie hangs up, picking up the tablet to see if anyone in his books has a similar sized piece and would take the offer for moving their session up.

Alex calls out from where she’s sitting, “since when do we do a first responder discount?”

Eddie squeezes his face in remorse, he’d really hoped she wouldn’t hear that, “I mean, they– their schedules change and they’re called in often, so we could consider–”

“Wrong answer. We do not offer blanket discounts on client designs.” Alex cuts him off, “and if any of his friends come in asking for one it’s coming out of your profit.”

Eddie sighs, “he won’t–”

The phone rings again and Eddie looks at the ceiling in frustration because he did not sign on to be a secretary when he moved to this shop, pressing down on the emotion before he picks up,  “hello, Tatuar, how can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m looking to get an appointment with Eddie? My- my friend Jess got a heart piece on her hip?”

Eddie remembers the piece– a swipe of red and pink under thin black concentric curves, almost organic like fiddlehead ferns, “yeah, I remember her piece– glad she likes it.”

“Oh! You’re Eddie?” The woman sounds less nervous, and Eddie tries to remember the appointment. All he really recalls is that Jess talked about her roommate a lot.

“Yes, I am.” Eddie says as he pulls up his books, then looks over at Alex to give her a pointed look as he enunciates so she can hear, “and you’re in luck– I have an opening tomorrow night at eight if you happen to be free? It’s normally a thirty minute block for the consultation, but if you know what you want and it’s a similar size to Jess’s, then I would be able to do that piece in around an hour.”

“That- yeah, that works– I, uh, I want something pretty similar, but with different colors, more orange and pink.” She sounds breathless, and Eddie can almost feel the buzz of the gun in his hand already, thinking about how a complimentary piece would look.

“Great, I’ll see you then, let me just take down your information.” He writes in her name and credit card numbers before he turns to Alex and gives her the finger, glad her client is face down so when she gives it right back no one can see.

~~~~~

Eddie likes the silence of the shop at night. Alex leaves after four because she works weekends when he doesn’t, and he feels more comfortable with the occasional drunk guy coming in for something dumb with his friends. It’s not as common as their old place in El Paso, they choose somewhere a bit off the beaten path both because the rent is cheaper, but also because they don’t want to spend all their time turning away people who are too drunk to properly consent.

Buck’s due in about fifteen, and Eddie’s wrapping up a couple of sketches for a guy who wants the geometric colors Eddie is becoming more known for with a realistic line art piece of a statue Eddie’s been staring at photos of for the past few days so he can get the movement just right.

The door opens and Buck kind of trips in, which Eddie finds himself smiling at almost immediately. Buck is blushing when he catches himself, “sorry– sorry!”

His hair is wet like he showered before coming, and Eddie knows he’s only a couple of hours off a forty eight hour shift, but Buck had promised both times Eddie had checked in that it was no problem and he’d grab a nap before.

Eddie had ignored the looks Alex shot him when he called a second time just to be sure.

“Sit, make yourself comfortable.” Eddie gestures at the couch, closing his sketchbook and pulling out a larger one because Buck had said he wanted a thigh piece and Eddie prefers to sketch to scale so people will know what they’re getting into. Buck’s legs are long, there’s a lot of canvas for Eddie to work on.

Buck sighs when he sits, at first all sprawl and breadth as Eddie walks over, then he tucks his arms towards himself, making sure Eddie has room too, “your couch is better than mine.”

“I’ll tell my partner you said so– she was not convinced when I bought it.” Eddie sits, turned towards Buck, looking down at the man’s left thigh, already thinking about possible dimensions.

“Alex, right?” Buck asks, and Eddie looks up, nodding, “she seems–” Buck stumbles, clearly searching for an adjective that won’t offend Eddie.

Eddie smiles, because Alex has that effect on people, “she doesn’t like answering the phone.”

“I can tell.” Buck mumbles as Eddie flips to a blank page, pointing at a piece on the wall that Alex had done, “it-it’s cool that you opened a place with her, though. She’s really talented.”

Eddie nods because it’s easy to accept compliments on someone else’s work, “she is.”

“I love her stained glass stuff.” Buck is still looking up at the photo, and Eddie has a frustrating spike of something in his gut.

“Do– she’s not in tonight, but I could take notes for her– get you booked in–” he offers because it’s good business, but if Buck gets a piece from Alex he’s going to make sure it’s at an hour Eddie can’t be in.

Buck’s eyes go wide, “no! No no no, I– I want–” he gestures at Eddie’s wall of flash, the geometry and color, “I like your work. Hers is just, it’s also good.”

Eddie settles at that, which is completely unprofessional, so he just nods, “thank you.” He waits a beat because Buck looks like he’s got an inner monologue going and Eddie wonders what’s it’s saying, wants to give him the space to talk but Buck stays quiet, so Eddie continues, “were you looking to get something like those?”

Buck nods enthusiastically, “I– do you do them bigger? I, it was– okay.” He squeezes his eyes shut once, hard, like he’s trying to rein in his brain, gesturing at the leg Eddie worked on before, “after this I was put on pretty strict rest orders. I got, I got really in my head about it.”

Eddie nods because Buck had said something like that when he was working on the porcelain pattern.

“My sister, Maddie, she– she kept trying to get me to go out, to not just be in bed all day.” Buck looks at his knees like he’s ashamed, “I– I like the water, and you know I couldn’t go to work, so I started walking around the city trying to see how far I could get before having to sit down. It’s not– no one really walks here, but it’s pretty okay in some areas, so I started doing these big loops, trying to spend a couple hours at a time outside just so she wouldn’t worry about me so much.”

“I was on the pier– it was the longest I’d walked in a while and I stopped to just kind of see how I was because I’d been trying to get into better shape so I could start coming back to work, but it wasn’t strictly following my PT instructions and I didn’t want to have to explain myself at my next appointment.” Buck licks his lips and Eddie can’t help but track the little flash of tongue even as he remembers his own PT therapist frowning at him when he’d clearly exhausted himself before their session. “There was this wave just coming at us. I tried– I got pulled in, but I got some people up on a truck– kept fishing out people as best as I could. Managed to grab ten or so before I fell back in.”

Eddie can’t imagine– he’d been at work, had seen some of the destruction the tsunami had caused but only on the news or when passing by the area. He’d been so glad Chris had spent the day in the front desk chair reading a book safe and sound.

“My team, they got called in to help, found me in a medical tent– I was pretty banged up, the retreating swell pulled me out and I had to walk a ways to make it to somewhere I could get bandaged up– stop enough of the bleeding that I wouldn’t pass out.” Buck is worrying at his lip, “I’d never seen something like that– the devastation.”

Eddie wants so badly to reach out and comfort Buck.

“But, I made it, you know?” Buck sits up, looking at Eddie, “and so did everyone at the one eighteen. We survived. And– and now that I’m back with them for real I want to memorialize that. That we got through it.”

Eddie looks down at the blank page, mind filling with shapes and colors, “okay, we can do that.”

“I want a wave.” Buck says with certainty, “but other than that I trust you. I just want– I want something that feels like I did it. That– I want to look down and know I can survive shit and get back to where I belong.”

Eddie thinks about the pieces on his own skin that confirm the same feeling, the round rings that are almost targets obscuring scar tissue, masking any evidence that a bullet pierced through him, “you want to know every time you look in the mirror that you’re a badass under pressure.”

Buck grins at the compliment, “I want my skin to shout that even the ocean can’t take me from the one eighteen and I’m never leaving.”

~~~~~

Buck hisses through his teeth, and Eddie soothes the skin as best he can, “how long have you been at this?”

Eddie looks at the clock, “you need a break? It’s been an hour.”

“No!” Buck assures him, “just– need a distraction. I meant, uh,  how long have you been a tattoo artist?”

“I started my apprenticeship about four years ago.” Buck already knows that but Eddie doesn’t know what it is about Buck that makes him want to talk, but it’s so easy , “I– my physical therapist had recommended art therapy to get back full movement in my hand, and it turned out I liked it a lot more than I had told her I was going to.”

He smiles down at the memory, dragging a steady line of light blue over Buck’s thigh. “The teacher of the art therapy course had all these pieces– full sleeves– and she noticed my style when I was drawing. I liked working in permanent markers, and she kept giving me these art books of photos of tattoos to copy as homework.”

“Fun homework.” Buck agrees easily, “all I ever got was trig or whatever.”

Eddie has an urge to press into the milky white of Buck’s skin with his thumb and leave a red circle from the pressure, but he just fills in the color slowly, “I was looking for a second job– her husband owned a shop and needed a front desk worker.”

“Started up, met Alex, she liked my sketches.” Eddie looks down at his forearm, the stained glass of St. Christopher like a devotion candle on his skin, thinking about how nervous Alex had been when bringing the idea to him, her first piece in the style she’s been developing ever since, “I gave her some skin to try something new with her art, she gave me some hours learning how to use everything.”

“Couple of years ago she said she wanted to move out here and it worked for my plan too, so we found this place and signed a lease, figured out how to make it work with our schedules and that’s that.” Eddie squints down at the curve he’d drawn, making sure it looks round on the contours of Buck’s skin.

Buck hums, and Eddie can feel him looking from where he’s propped his head up on his hand. “And now look at where you are: still answering phones most nights when I call.”

Eddie doesn’t like to admit that the calls from Buck are nice . He called a few times to throw a new idea in the mix for this piece, or to let Eddie know his week’s schedule so they could find a time for this session– Buck’s captain had put him on a limited schedule that conflicted with Eddie’s in frustrating ways. “Well how else would I hear that someone with my work on their neck had caused a four car pile up?”

Buck blushes, “it turns out that for privacy reasons I really should not have told you that. Please don’t tell anyone I did. Especially not Bobby if he ever does decide to make good on his threats and get a tattoo of NO BUCK across his knuckles.”

“It’s okay.” Eddie jokes, moving to the blue he’d chosen for the curve of the spike behind the wave, a blue he can admit to himself is a match for Buck’s eyes. “I doubt that client will come by again– that piece was only about two by two inches and he had to take three breaks after he talked a big game about never tapping out on any of his other tattoos.”

Buck chuckles and Eddie can feel it under his hand, the rumble subtle but there, “he also whined a lot in the ambulance even though all he had to get three stitches and some ibuprofen for the bruise from the seatbelt.”

Buck’s other leg is tucked up under his knee, bent so Eddie can see the patterns he put into Buck’s skin just beyond where he’s currently looking, and it pulls the complement from his mouth before he’s even thinking about it, “not everyone sits as well as you.”

He can tell the words hit Buck harder than Eddie had meant them to because his muscle tenses a little under Eddie’s hand, like he’s trying to keep himself still. There’s music playing on a speaker, some playlist Buck set up because Eddie always gives his clients free rein if they’re in the shop alone, but even with it Eddie can hear the little hitch in Buck’s breath. Some people take compliments well, Buck takes them like he’s never had one before– and it makes Eddie want to say them over and over.

He doesn’t look over because Buck doesn’t deserve to feel judged. But Eddie can tell Buck needs a second.

“I gotta stretch my wrist.” He rolls back, flexing his hand, “I don’t want to get sent back to art therapy again.”

Buck laughs and clears his throat, looking like he’s shaking off the way Eddie’s words had hit him, “any chance there’s more Capri Sun in your fridge?”

Eddie had gotten extra this week because Chris is going through a growth spurt and he knew Buck would be in for a few hours at least, “we got fruit punch and strawberry kiwi.”

“Strawberry kiwi please!” Buck says with a smile that’s so bright that it makes Eddie want to press his thumb to it to feel it under his hand.

Eddie pulls out one, but a second one is stuck to it so he looks down at the pouch and shrugs, pulling them apart and tossing one to Buck before piercing his own. It’s sweet and cold, tasting nothing like strawberry or kiwi.

Buck raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, “see?”

Eddie rolls his eyes right back, because he’s had Capri Sun in the past decade. His kid used to drink about a third of one before wandering off on his own and Eddie wasn’t the type to just throw juice away, but Buck doesn’t know that, and Eddie doesn’t know how to talk about Christopher in a way that won’t make people see him differently.

Buck drinks his own pouch quickly before lying back down and letting Eddie set back up, new black gloves on.

“I’ve never heard of tattooing as a way to heal from an injury.” Buck says once Eddie starts back up, “does– does it still act up sometimes? I can– uh, anytime you need a break it’s okay–”

Eddie thinks about the occasional twinges he gets in his wrist, “there’s not really any pain any more.”

Buck must hear his response as a shut down, because his brow falls a little, “right, of course. Sorry.”

“I get more from the shoulder sometimes.” He tilts his head to indicate his left shoulder, realizing he’s about to tell Buck more than he normally does for clients, but they’ve talked on the phone about ten times and they’re four sessions in together so maybe they’re almost friends and his friends know, so Buck can too. “I– I got shot.”

“What?” Buck gasps, “I– I didn’t, I mean, I know every major city has gun violence–”

“Not in El Paso, Buck. I was a medic in Afghanistan.” Eddie does not look at Buck when he says it, because people usually only have two looks on their face and he hates both the sympathy and the admiration. “Got hit in my wrist, my shoulder and my hip. PT for the wrist was a bitch, but it got me here so I guess I owe the army a little thanks for that.”

He glances over at Buck whose face doesn’t appear to be full of either apologies or awe, just a careful consideration. He fills in the dark blue of the wave, liking how it contrasts with Buck’s pale skin.

“My friend got a whole rebar through his skull.” Buck says eventually, “like, middle of his forehead– through and through.”

Eddie’s medic brain can’t help but think of all the ways someone could die from that, reminded of Phineas Gage and his tale of being a medical miracle, “I–”

“He’s okay.” Buck assures him, ‘just– uh, well, my sister says you’re not supposed to trade scar stories because people want to hear things like ‘I’m sorry that happened to you’ but I think it’s nice to know sometimes that other people survived bad things too.”

Eddie nods, feeling a weird lump in his throat at the way Buck read him, “yeah.”

Buck gestures at the leg tucked under the one Eddie’s working on, “and you already know my worst thing so unless you wanna hear about the time I got a tracheotomy because I am worse at eating bread than a duckling then I gotta tell you about Chim instead.”

Eddie lets himself laugh, “I’m sorry– what? Who almost dies from bread? ”

“Uh uh, you want the bread story I am gonna need a scar as payment– it’s about even trades or else it’s just me telling you all my shit.” Buck grins boyishly.

“I already paid you three scars.” Eddie argues as he swaps to black, tracing the lines of a coastline over Buck’s colors, topographic lines as interpretations of the seafloor. He hasn’t ever really joked about the end of his time in the army with anyone but a couple of guys from his unit and Alex when she’s had enough shots in her to complain about the pins in her ankle from when she’d been thrown from a tank thanks to an IED.

There’d been a moment when they’d considered leaning into the veteran thing with their shop, call it Silver Star or something, but the only person Eddie’s met who is less proud of their time over there than Eddie is Alex, so even though their shop owner back in Texas had said it would be profitable they’d opted for acknowledging Eddie’s Mexican and Alex’s Puerto Rican sides. 

Buck counts dramatically on one hand, “crushed by truck, almost drowned by tsunami, rebar through brain.”

Eddie nods right along with the argument, “three to three means we’re even, so now you tell me the bread story and I’ll think of my next one.” 

Buck is grinning, flushed pink and happy, and Eddie feels a lightness in his chest he didn’t know he would get from one night’s work.

~~~~~

Eddie has not had the best day. Chris has a stomach bug so he can’t be in the shop, but Eddie has three clients and can’t reschedule them without losing out on a serious chunk of his rent money, so he’s at abuela’s and Eddie feels awful about exposing her to whatever has run rampant through Chris’s school but it’s the only option at the moment.

The phone rings and he apologizes to the man he’s working on, tearing off his glove and rolling to the phone, “Tatuar, how can I help you?”

“Hey Eddie!” Buck says big and bright, and it’s embarrassing how it makes Eddie’s heart race a little.

He’s a client Eddie’s brain reminds him.

Being creepy about clients is how tattoo artists get reputations. It’s how Yelp reviews pour in and how a new business gets buried in bad reviews.

“Hey Buck, I–”

“You have an appointment, I know–” Eddie doesn’t know why or how Buck remembers his schedule from just the random chats they have when he’s on break or bored on long days off, but he likes it, “I just, uh, I’m sending over someone tonight around seven and I think you’ll really like her so, uh, yeah– just letting you know to keep an eye out.”

Eddie frowns, because why is Buck setting him up, “Buck I’m not–”

A tone sounds in the background of Buck’s call, “gotta go!”

Eddie hangs up, feeling weird about a conversation with Buck for the first time in a while.

He rolls back over to the client he’s working with and apologizes, putting on a new glove and getting back to work.

He’s wrapping up his second session of the day when the door opens and a young woman walks in. She barely looks old enough to be in a tattoo shop without her parents’ permission– Eddie will definitely have to card her, which some people get weird about.

“Take a seat, I’m just wrapping up here.” He calls over, wiping down his client’s leg, glad he’d convinced her to go with a sprig of lavender instead of a whole field. “Go take a look.”

She’s grinning as she looks at her leg in the mirror, and Eddie finds himself looking for that hunger that was in Buck’s expression and tries to tell him self it’s okay that he’s not seeing it there because she isn’t Buck. “I love it.”

He wraps her up, gives her explicit instructions about how to care for it and cashes her out– glad to see her tip is generous in a way that lets him breathe easier about the week.

He looks over at the young woman, noticing the time, and is suddenly terrified that this is who Buck’s sent over because she’s pretty but she’s young and very very much not his type, so he immediately frowns, wanting to shut whatever is happening down if he can, “how can I help you?”

She looks surprised by his blunt tone, “uh, my name’s May– my friend Buck sent me?”

The worry is growing in Eddie’s stomach, “yeah, he said you’d be by but didn’t–”

She pulls out a piece of paper and Eddie is so relieved because that means she’s in for a piece but then she’s handing it over and it’s a resumé and he just looks at it– it’s sparse, mostly things like babysitting and working on high school teams.

“I, um, I don’t know much about this job, but I’m available all hours and I’m good with people.” She says quickly, all in a rush like she’d practiced it. “And I know how to use phones and I’m quick with programs.”

Eddie blinks down at the paper, “you– you want to work here?”

May nods, “Buck said you could use a front desk worker, and I’m looking for something I can do while in school– I don’t have my class schedule yet, but it shouldn’t be too many hours a week, and I’ll definitely have most weekends and mornings free.”

There’s a rushing in Eddie’s ears, because Buck had just seen a problem and tried to fix it without Eddie having to ask. “Uh, ok, I’ll have to check with my partner.”

“Buck said you would, but recommended I come in tonight and tomorrow morning so I can meet you both and then you can make a decision together.” May smiles, looking around, “I like your shop.”

Eddie nods, “thank you. I– um, I’ll keep this and leave it on Alex’s desk so she can look at it before you stop by.”

“Great!” May sticks her hands in her pockets in a move that looks like something Buck would do.

“How do you know Buck?” Eddie finds himself asking, using up the little time he has for a snack before his next tattoo, but he needs to know.

May’s face does something complicated, “well, his– his captain, Bobby, is my step dad.”

“Ah.” The only thing Eddie really knows about Bobby is that he kept Buck from working and made him be man behind for longer than was fair, so he can’t say he has the most positive feelings about the guy.

May nods like she can guess his thoughts aren’t the most kind, “I promise he– he loves Buck, and my mom does too. Buck’s been over for more family dinners than the rest of the one eighteen combined.”

That makes Eddie relax, the obvious fondness in her tone for Buck, “I’ll message Alex tonight to let her know you’ll be in. What time do you think?”

“Eight? I have an appointment not too far from here at nine.”

“Eight it is.” Eddie reaches out his hand to shake hers, “it was nice to meet you, May.”

“You too. Although, Buck talks about you a lot so I feel like I have the advantage a little.”

Eddie laughs, feeling himself blush, “he talks about everything a lot.”

May just nods, “yeah– he does. I’m talking on a Buck scale.”

The door bell chimes and Eddie’s never been more grateful for a client arriving early so he can escape with his pride intact and not ask her exactly what Buck is saying about him.

Chapter Text

Buck kind of wonders if bringing food to a tattoo shop is weird, so he sits in his car Googling it before going in. Normally he’d call Maddie but she’s on shift and her recent responses have transitioned from sounding worried about him to fond exasperation and he thinks this wouldn’t help his case that he is fine .

The general consensus seems to be that it’s okay, but most people assume it’s to stay fueled during a longer appointment, so he thinks it’s maybe still a little weird.

It’s just, Buck knows May has her only night class on Wednesdays so Eddie has to run the shop himself and it makes him a little scattered, and he and Buck text now, something Hen and Chim love to tease him about mercilessly, and earlier Eddie had sent a picture of a protein bar and a sad faced emoticon.

Buck kind of thinks it’s cute he still uses emoticons instead of emojis, which is frankly embarrassing to even himself.

The thing is Buck’s shift ended at seven, and he and Bobby had made two trays of lasagna so everyone on both A and B shifts could have something to eat, so he thinks it’s not that weird to stop in and bring Eddie a container of it because the shop is almost mostly on his way to the loft and no one from B shift was going to miss the two servings of lasagna Buck had taken with him.

Plus, Bobby is always telling Buck he should take leftovers home because he knows Buck doesn’t cook unless there’s someone to eat with and Bobby’s trying to repair the rift between them in the only way he knows how with Midwestern parental pressure.

It’s just he and Eddie have only been texting for a little over a week because May had gotten tired of being the go between at the shop and put them in a chat together with her and then promptly left it, saying it was to keep the lines clear for appointments.

Buck doesn’t think it’s that busy of a shop, even if May’s taken over the official Instagram and started posting people’s pieces and videos of Alex and Eddie working, which is definitely drumming up more interest– he’s been watching the follower count.

Buck tries not to be weird in the comments because he knows May reads all of them, but he always likes the pictures and says something about how awesome the work is, making sure to remember to comment an equal amount on videos of both Alex as Eddie.

He puts his forehead down on the steering wheel, wishing he had the good sense to be attracted to someone a little less in a work and life partnership.

Because Eddie’s talented and smart and funny, and Buck just kind of wants to be near him, so he’s made the choice that friendship is worth a little achy crush. Buck isn’t going to turn down an opportunity to make a friend as cool as Eddie Diaz. 

He picks up the food from his passenger seat, because even if Eddie thinks it’s weird he still needs to eat.

He walks in and Eddie’s sketching at the desk, hair mussed and falling over his forehead, nodding along to the music that’s playing quietly. Eddie doesn’t look up immediately, clearly immersed in what he’s doing, but he speaks when Buck shuts the door behind him, “welcome to Tatuar, I’m just finishing–”

He looks up and a smile breaks across his face, “hey Buck!” He then points at him, shaking his finger, a little frown between his eyebrows, “wait. No you don’t, you’re still healing.”

Buck grins because he’d been bothering Eddie for another appointment since only a couple of days after the last one, and Eddie had allowed him to book a consultation three weeks out, but insisted that he needed extra time to heal because his job means he’s at higher risk of infection and Buck’s had two bigger pieces in as many months. He puts up one hand placatingly, “I know, I- I’m waiting for the appointment, I swear.”

Eddie smiles, “proud of you.”

Buck should at some point get a handle on the way he reacts to Eddie telling him he’s good, especially if they’re going to be friends.

He holds up the container between them, “I, uh– we always make too much at work, and Bobby sends us home with the leftovers if we cooked.” He’s so glad May isn’t there to call him on the white lie. 

Eddie’s eyes widen in realization as he looks at the tomato sauce squished up against the clear plastic top, “you brought me food?”

“Lasagna.” Buck steps closer, hand outstretched, and Eddie meets him halfway, grabbing the container, fingers catching with Buck’s, and Buck is already sure he’s blushing, so he thinks the contact at least doesn’t make him look more like an idiot.

Eddie doesn’t look like he thinks it’s weird, though. “You– I” he holds the container carefully, “it’s warm.”

“Uh, yeah, we ate at the end of shift and I boxed some up.” Buck relaxes at the happiness in Eddie’s tone. “Couldn’t let you finish that new piece tonight without real fuel.”

Buck likes how the apples of Eddie’s cheeks go pink when he’s happy– the way it sometimes makes his ears turn too, silver of the piercings popping against the rosiness. “She’s gonna be here in thirty.”

Buck nods, “should be enough time– that way you’re not the one fainting. Again.”

“That was once! And I told you that to make you feel better about being all wobbly when I told you to sit up.” Eddie laughs as he digs into a small drawer behind the desk, pulling out a fork triumphantly, “but thanks for having my back anyway.”

Buck shrugs helplessly, wishing he could offer something in reply. “No problem.”

Eddie takes a hearty bite and his eyebrows raise, “this is good!”

“Yeah?” Buck feels warm from the compliment, “Bobby’s a real good cook.”

Eddie nods, “May’s said– she brings leftovers from Sunday dinner sometimes and rubs it in.”

Buck swallows down the pang of loss– he hasn’t been to Sunday dinner since the night he met Eddie. Bobby’s offered the last couple of weeks, and Athena’d texted too, but he’d declined politely, needing to find a way to look at them without thinking about the fact that Bobby’d been the one to keep him back for so long.

They’re getting there, it just still feels like he’s got a scar from the knife in his back.

“What are you workin on?” He asks to fill the space while Eddie’s scarfing down lasagna like maybe he didn’t eat lunch either.

Eddie looks over at his sketchbook, “trying to think about Halloween flash. Pretty much every shop does it, it’s an easy way to get a a few dozen clients in a weekend, but I like to have a theme for mine, so I start early– try to knock out thirteen pieces because people love to be superstitious.”

Buck’s hands are itching to open the book, but he knows that’s almost as bad as trying to open someone’s phone without permission. “What’s the theme?”

Eddie hums around a bite, looking up at the ceiling like he hasn’t yet come up with the words, “I’m thinking about something with ofrendas.”

Buck’s lived in Los Angeles for long enough to have picked up some stuff, “for Dia de los Muertos?”

“Yeah.” Eddie smiles, “there’s some iconography I want to play with. Plus, I like the colors.”

Buck lets himself look at the marigolds on Eddie’s arm, tracking over the numbers next to them. Eddie must notice, because he looks down at them too, a flash of sadness on his face from whatever loss he’d experienced, “the oranges pop on lots of skin tones.”

“Well they definitely look great on yours.” Buck agrees without thinking.

“Thank you.” Eddie smiles and it’s full of teasing instead of sadness so Buck decides he’s not going to apologize. There’s also a hint of a stain of tomato sauce at the corner, and Buck wipes at the side of his own mouth so Eddie will mirror it.

Eddie does without Buck even needing to draw his attention to it, which Buck learned from a documentary late one night is a sign of bonding between animals, so he feels less weird about bringing lasagna.

He might bring something else next Wednesday so Eddie doesn’t have to scrounge up a meal on the only night he can’t leave to get something because May’s gone.

~~~~~

“Are you really going to be okay?” Maddie sighs as she puts her car into park.

Buck shakes his head, smoothing a hand over his jeans so his knee won’t bounce, “I’m fine .”

“Evan, I know your boy crush is expecting you, but” Maddie turns in the driver seat, looking at Buck head on. “You had a rough week and it’s okay to–”

Buck shakes his head quickly, “if I had known I was gonna get the third degree I would have Ubered from yours instead of letting you drop me off, Mads. I’m-  I don’t know what Chim’s been saying, but I’m okay.”

She doesn’t look impressed, “he’s been saying that it’s hard to lose people. Especially when it’s your first real week on call. Especially for you.”

Buck worries at his lip, “I can’t be late.”

“Yes you can . Pay the fee, take the day!” Maddie isn’t shouting, but she’s close, exasperated.

Buck shakes his head, “I just want to think about something else, so please stop telling me what to do and let me go. I promise– I can do this.”

Maddie’s face screws up, “call me after?”

Buck nods, “it’s not– I’m not even getting anything done, it’s a thirty minute consult– he’ll show me some sketches and make sure of placement. Promise, I’ll go right home after and sleep.”

“Fine.” She presses the button and unlocks his door. “I love you.”

He inhales, stepping out, “love you too.”

Eddie’s shop is illuminated nice and warmly in the dark, and it makes something in Buck feel a little more settled to walk inside and see May with her textbooks propped up even though she’s on her phone.

“That doesn’t look like reviewing for finals.” He teases, and she looks up, narrowing her eyes at him.

She puts the phone down, “and you don’t look ‘one hundred percent cool’ which means we both lied.”

Buck looks at the floor, thinking about the confirmation text he’d replied to, knowing May would be reading it. “I’m fine. Maddie already gave me the talk in the car so I have had my full of sister concern.”

“Buck–” May sighs, but she’s interrupted by Eddie coming out of the back room.

“Buck!” He sounds enthusiastic, smile sincere, and it makes Buck wish he had a tan so the blush was less obvious. “Ready to look at what I’ve drawn up?”

Buck’s so glad to talk to someone that isn’t looking at him like he might fall apart that he feels kind of shaky from it, “yeah– yeah for sure.” He ignores the look being shot at him from May and moves into the shop, sitting on Eddie’s tattoo bed, exhaling slowly because he’s not going to let a bad work week ruin this.

Eddie pulls out his sketchbook, flipping to a few pages, black ink over a blaze of colors, “I know I sent some of these already, but–”

“They’re even better in person.” Buck sighs out, awed. “I– I don’t know how I’ll choose.”

His hands are shaking a little, thinking about having the art on the page on his skin, reds and yellows and fine black lines reminding him whenever he looks in the mirror that not everything they do is the end. That there’s the potential for good sometimes. 

It doesn’t feel like it, now that he’s sitting at Eddie’s workspace. Like he lied to the man in front of him when describing the concept.

“I– uh, I was on fully duty again this week.” He keeps looking at the page, letting his clumsy fingers trace the curves. “First few calls were fine.”

He can see Eddie still and then nod in his peripheral vision.

“We, sometimes– sometimes we don’t get to them. There was a family, all trapped in a car that went off a bridge– someone saw and called it in as fast as they could. We were close– maybe five minutes out. It didn’t matter. We didn’t make it fast enough.” His mouth twists, thinking of the fear that must have overtaken the mothers in the front seat as they couldn’t open the doors against the water.

Eddie rolls forward on his stool, hand on Buck’s knee right below where they both know is the dotted curve of Buck’s searching for people to help during the tsunami, and Buck knows they’re kind of tactile– Eddie’s been up close and personal with his skin for hours, but it’s still shockingly nice even through jeans. “I’m sorry.”

Buck nods, keeping his eyes on the bright feathers and smudges of smoke, wondering if maybe he should ask Eddie for a new piece.

“It’s okay to get a piece that makes you check in.” Eddie says eventually, like he’s reading Buck’s mind.

Buck frowns, because he doesn’t really know what Eddie means by that.

Eddie rolls up his shirt sleeve, and Buck can’t keep himself from looking, greedy for more of Eddie’s truth. There’s a pair of dog tags on Eddie’s shoulder, above the band with the dates that Eddie still hasn’t explained but Buck isn’t that bad at math– whoever he lost was young, and it wasn’t too long ago, just the year before.

“Got these right out of basic with a couple of other guys.” Eddie shakes his head, “they were so proud that they’d signed up. So ready to fight, like they knew who they were gonna be. I was just– I wanted to feel like that so I went with them.”

Buck nods slowly so Eddie will keep talking, wanting to unwrap every crumb of Eddie’s story.

“Now it’s there to remind me of who I was back then. Someone who’d sign themselves away to provide, even if it wasn’t what I wanted or what people who cared about me deserved.” Eddie frowns down at the art on the page between them, “you wanted the phoenix to remind yourself of the possibility for new things, but maybe it’s also a way to remember that there are losses, and you do your best to prevent them when you can.”

There’s a lump in Buck’s throat, and he is not going to cry while Eddie’s pressed against his shin, looking down at the art on Buck’s lap. “Can– can we make the bird look like it’s covered in ashes?”

Eddie’s hand on his knee squeezes, “yeah.” He pulls the sketchbook from Buck’s lap, rolling to his marker bin so he can layer color over the orange of the phoenix’s body.

Seeing the bird look like it’s been through a fire, like it had fought to be reborn settles something in Buck’s stomach.

~~~~~

Buck hates past Buck. Not way back because that guy didn’t know he was an early draft, just the Buck who he was a couple of weeks ago when he made the final appointment because his schedule was not accommodating to healing for a couple of days before heading back to work. He thinks that’s when he confirmed the location and size, putting down the half cost upfront while mentally putting off paying off his credit card bill. Fuck his score, he doesn’t need it high unless he ever needs to find a new place, and the loft is working at the moment.

Maybe that was Buck 2.9 or whatever, because Eddie is tracing a line across his ribs at the moment and it hurts bad enough that he thinks he might actually cry. Which is wild because he’s been crushed by a fire engine.

“It’s a rough spot, I know.” Eddie says, sounding apologetic, “you think you’ll be good for five more minutes?”

Something tingles down Buck’s spine, overwhelming the heat blossoming on his ribs, because that is something he can do for Eddie, “yeah. Yeah. I’m good.”

“You are.” Eddie swipes across his skin and the rough pain of the feeling paired with the positive affirmation makes Buck inhale through his teeth, but he makes sure to keep still so Eddie can work.

Buck tries to think about anything other than the pain on his sides, but his brain isn’t exactly able to let things go even when they’re good things, and so it’s just spiralling around weaving through his ribs and amplifying the pain. “Ask me something?”

Eddie tilts his head in a silent question, and Buck squeezes his eyes shut, “I gotta distract myself, so ask me a question so I can answer.” There’s a pause and Buck feels weirdly self-conscious, “you can tune me out, I just– I gotta–”

“What’s your favorite animal?” Eddie interrupts him, a smile at the edge of his eyes even as he focuses on Buck’s side.

Buck thinks about it for a second, “that’s such a broad question, man. I like–” he grits his teeth as the needle hits something that sucks , “I like the big cats. Pumas, leopards, tigers. They– I like that cheetahs purr.”

“They do?” Eddie sounds interested, and Buck thinks he can read the guy pretty well at this point– he doesn’t think it’s just good customer service.

“Y-yeah, they’re the only ones. The other ones don’t, just cats and cheetahs. Cats maybe do it to help sooth themselves and heal? There’s some research on it being good for bone health.” He takes a steadying breath, “cats that purr heal from breaks better they think.”

Eddie pauses, switching colors, and Buck blinks away the tears at the edges of his vision, “maybe we should get a shop cat. Have them sit on clients and purr.”

That makes Buck laugh, thankfully before Eddie puts the needle back down on his skin, “don’t think the inspectors would love that from a hygiene perspective.”

“They would not.” Eddie agrees, doing a long sweeping stroke that makes Buck feel kind of high from the sensory input, “do– do you guys actually get cats from trees or is that from TV?”

Buck smiles despite the fuzziness from the sensations he’s experiencing, “we do. They’re fun calls until the cat flips a shit and tries to climb me like a second tree.”

“Lucky.” Eddie says under his breath, and Buck doesn’t know what that means until Eddie’s eyes widen and he glances up at Buck, “lucky you get to rescue cats. I bet it’s cool.”

Buck considers it, “it’s mostly nice to give them back to their families. No one calls unless they’re missing them, so they’re always at the bottom of the tree with their arms wide open, and they usually cry when they get Mr. Higgens back which is always a good feeling. Worth all the bandaids usually.”

Eddie hums in acknowledgement, and Buck closes his eyes, thinking about the last time they’d gotten a call for an animal in a tree, “there was a guy who got stuck in a tree a few months ago. He was chasing his pet cockatoo, and kept climbing until he couldn’t find a way back down. Thankfully he had a free hand and could call for help. Maddie got the call.”

“Your sister?” Eddie checks in, and it’s kind of weird when Buck thinks about it that they’ve never met– he thinks they’d get along.

“Yeah– she figured out where he was and sent us over with the aerial ladder. The tree was too spindly and old to climb with a rope and harness, so I was perched at the end of the ladder, trying to get him to just take my hand but he kept saying I had to get the bird, Smithers, who was like three branches above him first.” Buck winces when the needle passes over skin that’s already been worked, but he tries to stay in the story so he won’t shy away from Eddie’s gun, “and Bobby’s yelling up at me to get him down, but he won’t even let go of the trunk– the winds are picking up and he’s easily three stories up which while survivable is not a good fall distance.”

“So, I’m trying to convince him, and the bird’s ignoring everything looking totally unbothered– just this big white thing staring down at me like I’m the weird one, which, fair, I was in his domain, right? Up in a tree?”

Eddie wipes the skin he’s working on, “I don’t know if birds know what’s their domain.”

Buck scoffs, “Eddie, when I tell you this bird knew I wasn’t supposed to be that high up you gotta know I looked into it’s black beady eyes and we had a moment. Anyway, the branch the guy’s on starts to go, there’s a cracking sound, and it scared him bad enough that he must’ve realized that while Smithers has wings he definitely didn’t. He took my hand and I dragged him onto the ladder, thankfully before the branch gave out.”

“Good work.” Eddie says as he leans back, examining the piece, and even that little compliment makes Buck’s cheeks heat.

“Uh- yeah, I, we got to the ground and he’s still freaking out about his bird, and I can’t really get him to chill out for long enough to get him to Hen to check his hands out because he’s all scratched up, and then the bird just lands on Chim’s head!” Buck smiles at the memory of the moment, “he froze, I’ve never seen him be so still. Turns out he doesn’t like it when birds can talk.”

“I get that.” Eddie leans back in and makes a few small passes, shocking in an inhale from Buck. “I think parrots are weird. My– the last time I went to a zoo they had one that said welcome and it kind of creeped me out.”

Buck doesn’t know why Eddie’s going to the zoo, but he guesses maybe to sketch from life, or as a date– people go on zoo dates, he thinks. He should say an animal fact to make it clear that he doesn’t think that the zoo is weird, he’s been a couple of times since moving because it’s always good to know about what the world can throw at him. “Ravens can do it too, but they sound like demons. They can use tools too.” 

Eddie pulls a face, “that’s unsettling. I’ll have to tell–” There’s a pause, and Buck can’t tell what Eddie’s stopped himself from saying. “-the next person to get a raven tattoo.”

Buck’s about ninety percent sure that’s not what Eddie was going to say the first time, but before he can call him on it the man rolls back, looking at his work approvingly, then at Buck, “Capri Sun break.”

Buck feels a little bit like the dogs in that bell experiment. Like the brand makes his tail wag and mouth water. He should send an email to tell the company to hire Eddie to make people thirsty for their product by association.

~~~~~

Buck checks his phone when he parks to find a notification from Bobby saying he’s still down with the same flu that got May this week, which means Hen’ll be in charge next shift too. Everyone’s sending get well soon messages, so Buck responds with need anything?

Bobby’s response comes through quicker than normal, which means he’s sitting on his phone bored because he’s been in bed all day and the fever’s been making him nap on and off. Thanks, but we’re okay. Still working through the soup you made May. Delicious. –Bobby.

It makes Buck smile, the thought of the big pot of fennel and herb chicken soup he’d made helping fuel Bobby and May so Athena could still go to work. She and Harry have managed to stay healthy so far, but if the way the flu’s been rampaging through the ERs around is anything to go by it’s not looking great.

He climbs out of his car, grabbing the container of green chicken chili he’d taken from work along with the jalapeño cornbread and a few cookies from the experimental batch he and Donato, had attempted to throw together because Hen is nicer with some chocolate in her hand. Eddie’s on day four of solo nights thanks to May’s sick days, and his replies have been a little erratic today so Buck figured he could drop by and give him some food.

The welcoming window of the shop draws him in as always. 

Maybe he should get a tattoo of a moth, the pull of Tatuar’s light is so strong.

The shop’s quiet except for the buzz of a gun, Buck glances at the clock and he thinks Eddie’s sessions a few minutes from ending, so he can just leave the soup at the high front desk, tucked by the phone.

He steps forward and there’s curls visible above the counter. As he moves they shift, and a young boy with glasses sits up from what he’d been doing and looks at him curiously, then frowns like he’s trying to remember something important. His face lights up, and he straightens, “welcome to Tatuar. If you sit my dad’ll be out soon.”

Buck is very glad he doesn’t drop the soup in surprise. “Y-your dad?”

The kid nods, “he’s an artist .”

He looks so proud that Buck’s heart thumps in his chest because this kid is Eddie’s and he clearly thinks his dad is amazing. “Oh yeah? That’s cool, because my friend Eddie is an artist and I brought him dinner.” He holds up the food, “I’m Buck.”

The kid’s face brightens, “my dad talks about you! You met a cockatoo. I’m Chris.”

“Hi Chris, nice to meet you.” Buck might melt from cuteness because the idea of Eddie talking to his son about the stupid stories he’d shared while trying to distract himself from the pain of a tattoo makes him feel like he’s liquid inside. “It was mostly my friend Chimney who met the cockatoo. It even pooped on him.” He whispers dramatically because he can tell it’ll make the kid giggle.

He’s rewarded with a laugh, “your friend is named Chimney?”

Buck nods, “well, his real name is Howard, but we all call him Chim.” He leans forward onto the desk, like he’s sharing a secret, “my real name isn’t Buck, it’s Evan, but I like Buck a lot better.”

“Me too.” Chris nods seriously, like he understands they’re sharing important things, “my dad’s really called Edmundo but no one but abuela and abuelo ever call him it.”

Buck absorbs the new information greedily and looks down at the counter Chris had been working at, and there’s a set of colored pencils and one of Eddie’s sketchbooks out, open to a blank page where Chris is coloring. It looks like a city scene, but everything is bright green and blue and kind of randomly leaning. “I like your drawing.”

Chris looks at it, “it’s a Jell-O city.”

Buck nods like that’s a normal answer that he’s heard before, “looks like my favorite– blue raspberry. Lucky citizens get to eat as much as they want. Unless- are the people made of Jell-O too?”

“No they’re ants.” Chris points at little things made of three blobs that Buck can now identify as ants without legs.

“Oh! So it’s like the gels that some pet ant colonies have?” Buck tilts his head so he can see the art better.

Chris nods enthusiastically, tracing along his drawing, “my old classroom had one! I liked the tunnels. This is the path the dug so they can go to get up the skyscraper.”

“Chris who– oh!” Eddie walks over, looking a little sweaty and tired and Buck has to shove away the thought that he’s beautiful. “Hey, uh– hi Buck.”

Eddie is more nervous than Buck’s ever seen him, but Buck gets why, because he hadn’t told Buck about his kid, but Buck doesn’t begrudge him being protective of the boy, “hey– Chris was showing me around his Jell-O city.”

Eddie blinks, looking at the paper, “I love it, mijo! Are the people Jell-O too?”

Chris laughs, “no, that’s what Buck thought too!”

Buck nods, and then leans so he can point to the ants in the drawing, “but I was informed these are ants, which is a way better population for a Jell-O city. I don’t think even the worst most hardest Jell-O can support a person’s weight.” He grins up at his friend.

Eddie looks at Buck with some disbelief on his face, and Buck points at the tub of chili at his elbow, “I think there’s enough for two if Chris wants green chicken chili and spicy cornbread. There’s definitely enough cookies as long as you’re not allergic to anything like nuts.” He looks at the young boy, remembering what it was like to be talked over as a kid.

Chris shakes his head, “I’m not allergic. And I already had dinner.”

“Ooh! What’d you have?” Buck answers with interest as Eddie checks out his client and gives them the care instructions.

“Tortellini and peas.” Chris points at an empty tub at his side with a fork sticking out, the remnants of dinner at the edges, a single pea in the corner. 

Buck nods, “sounds good. And like something that would go great with these chocolate chip potato chip cookies.”

Chris frowns, “potato chips?”

“Yeah! Just plain ones– my coworker and I put them in the batter so we could see if we like them. Turns out they’re pretty good.” Buck explains as he notices that Eddie is back at his side, looking at the two of them in something like confusion. “You think he can share a cookie with me? Looks like he ate all but one pea.”

“Sure.” Eddie nods, hand out as he touches the thing of chili like it’s a mirage, smile growing when he realizes it’s warm, “did you make this?”

Buck nods as he breaks a cookie in half, handing it to Chris, “if you like it maybe you can share another with your dad when he’s done with dinner.”

Chris stares at the cookie with some trepidation until Buck takes a bite, and then takes his own, eyebrows raising as a smile forms, “dad, they’re good!”

Eddie gives in picks one out of the bag, taking a bite and grinning, “they’re delicious . We should get Buck to give us the recipe for Alex’s birthday.”

Chris nods excitedly and Buck purposely doesn’t think about the way some of the sweetness on his tongue disappears. 

“You’re gonna ruin your dinner.” He says instead of pouting, because he’s a good friend, and because Eddie didn’t do anything wrong, Buck’s just jealous, and it’ll pass.

Chapter Text

Eddie’s bored.

He should be prepping for his next appointment, but the next client never likes what he’s sketched on the first try and really mostly wants a freehanded sketch of some shapes of her skin between her other mismatched pieces on her sleeve so it becomes cohesive.

“What’s today’s assignment?” He plops himself down next to May who’s reading through a book that looks dense and dry– no pictures to be seen.

She sighs, putting her pencil down in the place she’d gotten to, “the history of habeas corpus. It’s– the history is interesting, but this book isn’t .”

Eddie nods like he gets it, because he has experience with pretending to know what would be cool about things from Chris’s beginning social studies courses. He can’t really picture himself ever caring about the Missions of California beyond grimacing at their dark past and hoping he never has to step inside one, but Buck had sent him an explainer when he complained so maybe that’s the answer. “I bet Buck knows a podcast or YouTube video that explains it better?”

May sighs again, shoving her phone across the desk at him so he can see that there’s a steady stream of links filling up her chat with Buck, “he’s on it. And he’s called in my mom as reinforcements.”

Eddie grimaces because Athena had come in before May’s first shift and grilled both him and Alex about their history, the protections for her daughter leaving her shift late, and what their clientele is like in general. He’d pointed at the three security cameras Alex had made sure to set up (one at the front, one the back, and one from inside pointing towards the door) and the screens where they can all check the feeds.

He’d managed to divert her interest in having a link to the feeds herself by promising he or Alex would walk May to her car if she ever parked more than a block away. And swearing he didn’t require his employees to get any ink.

“Well, I can’t help, but Alex might be able to– she took some pre-law stuff at the community college so she’d at least be able to understand the waivers and contracts we have people sign. She can probably pronounce the Latin right and quiz you?” He looks over at his partner who is wrapping up her day by cleaning her station, headphones on as she probably finishes the true crime podcast she’d been chatting about with her last client.

May looks down at her book, “I should probably at least make it all the way through the reading and some of Buck’s links before involving anyone else.”

Eddie taps his knee into hers, “keep me in mind for if you have any field medicine questions?”

“Sure.” May smiles, “those come up a lot in beginning criminology courses.”

“Exactly.” His phone buzzes on the desk and he turns it over, seeing it’s a message from Buck.

He opens it and is met with a shirtless photo, Buck’s arm up behind his head, body stretched out to show the full phoenix, grin wide, a gym behind him. look how well it’s healing!

Eddie can feel the heat on his cheeks, the instinct to pull his phone tight to his chest intense. He turns his body slightly, glad May had been looking at her reading when he opened the message.

He doesn’t– he knows how he wants to reply, but Buck’s got another appointment in a few weeks and until the man stops booking time with him he’s not going to cross that line. He wonders what a non-flirty but also still inviting a little fun text would sound like. But also, it’s now been a moment, and Buck is clearly looking for assurance that the piece is in good condition, and Eddie likes to give him that. Nice job, Buck. Must have followed all my instructions :)

of course comes through so fast that Buck must be sitting in the gym responding instead of working out, which makes something small in Eddie crow because Buck loves working out so much that they’d had to figure out which exercises wouldn’t aggravate the side piece while it was healing.

“Tell him I need to know which of these stupid videos is best.” May says, making him jolt and look at her.

“Huh?”

“Buck. Tell him I need him to narrow down the recommendations because he’s not listening to me when I say it.” She shoots him a look, “unless you’ve started texting someone else that makes you look like that.”

“Uh– I, um.” He swallows, then gives up, “I’ll tell him.”

She snorts, “I didn’t actually think you’d admit it.”

Eddie gasps, “I–”

May just shakes her head, looking back down at her readings, “you two. I swear.”

Before Eddie can press her on what she means, what she knows , the door opens and his next client comes in, fifteen minutes early like she always is, so he stands and gets to work.

~~~~~

Eddie’s never thought of himself as much of a texter, but Buck texts a lot. He sends inspiration images for his next pieces and recipes and animal facts for Christopher and photos of things he thinks are beautiful in case Eddie needs artistic inspiration. Eddie feels like he knows Bobby, Hen, Chim, and Lucy at some level at this point from the photos of them all at the firehouse. 

Buck texts before their consultation that he’s bringing his sister to the appointment. And then three more times apologizing that he hadn’t checked he could do that. 

Eddie doesn’t really bother with the apologies, since he’s learned sometimes acknowledging them makes Buck apologize for apologizing, so he just answers the implied question by replying with looking forward to meeting her.

The appointment is right at the start of Eddie’s evening schedule, having fed Chris and then hugged his tía goodbye. She comes over on Monday and Wednesday after her book club, his abuela on Thursday, and he splits a babysitter for Tuesday and Friday with Alex so she can have her date nights and go to the continuing education class she’s signed up for. It’s not an ideal solution, but it works, and it’s only for four hours. He’s set up his schedule so he can always get Chris to school in the morning, work until after school ends, and then get him home and do the night routine until dinner. He’d make more money if he worked weekends, but he wants to be a present father, and until Christopher says he wants to join activities Eddie won’t force him into anything.

Buck bustles in with a smaller woman at his elbow, voice kind of loud like he’s nervous, “hey Eddie! This is Maddie. Maddie, Eddie.” He gestures between the two of them, “you have a lot of letters in common.”

Eddie and Maddie raise their eyebrows, and Buck is already bringing his shoulders up to his ears, “you know, like the D D I E.”

Eddie reaches out to Maddie, “nice to meet you. He talks about you a lot.”

“Ditto.” She returns the shake and leaves what she’s doubling unsaid, but Eddie thinks it’s probably both. Which is nice. 

“OKAY!” Buck says too loudly, “so, uh, the reason I brought her is I don’t know exactly what kind of reference photos would be good? And I really want it to be her , not just– someone.”

Eddie nods, gesturing to the back, “May set up an area for photographing drawings, its got a clear white background so it should give me plenty of detail.”

Maddie shakes her head at her brother, then zeros in on Eddie, “so, you and your partner moved here from Texas?”

“Yep. Relocated here and I’m glad because there’s great schools, although I’m still trying to figure out how to apply for the special programs, you know?” He busies himself with setting up the light May had taught him how to use after she’d seen the images he’d posted before she was hired, “but it’s good for us here.”

Maddie hums thoughtfully, “right, Buck said you had a son.”

Eddie doesn’t have to look over at Buck to know he’s shooting his sister looks that shout please stop talking. But it’s kind of nice knowing how much Buck talks about him to other people, “yeah, Chris. He’s eight.”

“Buck loves kids.” Maddie says firmly.

Eddie nods, “well, Chris is pretty loveable and Buck made enough of an impression that we have to have a Buck Animal Fact at breakfast every morning. Do you two want to get in position so I can take a bunch of pictures? Buck, your hand with palm up?” He spends a few moments directing the two of them to stretch just right, hooking their fingers together in a way that’s visually interesting but still natural as he can. At one point he grabs  Buck’s whole palm and tilts it a few degrees so the hands are in line. His own hand spans it easily, and it makes him want to bat Maddie’s finger away so he can hold Buck’s whole hand in his.

He bargains with himself that once this piece is done he’ll ask Buck out, and if the guy needs more pieces after that it can be once they’ve figured that out.

“Are the pieces on the walls all yours or are they also your partner’s?” Maddie asks as he adjusts her pinky and takes another photo. He thinks maybe there’s an emphasis on the last word, but he doesn’t know her well yet, and it could just be how she talks.

So, Eddie just nods as he looks at the image quality, “yeah, the ones on that close wall are all Alex.”

“I like the stained glass.” Maddie replies, “especially the organ and bone one.”

Eddie knows exactly which one she’s talking about because he’d spent eight hours face down on a table for it while Alex bitched him out for not sitting well even though he knew it was because she’d never done something so big. “Thanks, that’s one of my favorites. She did my Saint Christopher too.”

Maddie looks at his forearm, expression softening, “for your son?”

He smiles down at it quickly before angling his phone again and taking another image, “used to have a medallion on a chain, but I wanted something more permanent that I couldn’t lose, so now I keep it in a box until he wants it. His mother gave it to me, so he should have it some day.”

He can tell when Buck tenses from the tendon in his wrist and he regrets the unthinking words immediately. 

It’s not– he should have said something about Shannon at some point, it’s just– it’s not easy to bring up in a way that shows he’s okay.

“His mother isn’t–” Maddie starts and Eddie really didn’t want to do this tonight with Buck’s sister in the room.

“She’s not in the picture, no. She died.” He rips off the bandaid, putting his phone away, knowing his face looks torn and not really able to school it back into the right place for working with a client, “last year. It’s okay.” A matching furrow forms in both their brows, and Eddie really doesn’t want the sympathy, so he keeps talking, “you two are all set, I’ll sketch something up and see you next week, Buck?”

“I’m sorry–” Maddie looks so sad and Eddie can’t even look at Buck for fear of what he’ll see.

“It’s really okay.” He points to the marigolds on his arm, aiming for and missing joking, “I’m not– not hiding it, this isn’t exactly subtle. Just, uh,” he looks over at Buck who looks deeply worried and apologetic like he’d done something wrong, “didn’t, you know, know how to bring it up.”

It’s hard enough to have figured himself out after his marriage ended and then before they’d both signed the papers she had to go and die while crossing the street. It’s not something he usually tells people he wants to ask out because they run the other way. A widower with a kid who works weird hours and isn’t interested in hook ups.

Buck had hit it off with Christopher, which had let a bubble of hope in Eddie’s chest start to expand, and he hopes he won’t have to pop it.

“I didn’t– we didn’t mean–” Buck looks at his sister, searching Eddie’s face as they make their way to the front.

 Eddie takes a settling breath because he really wants Buck to know he didn’t ruin anything, “I’m fine, Buck.” He smiles as best he can, “like I said, it was a while ago and Chris and I have worked on it together.” They arrive at the desk, and he checks the calendar needlessly like he hasn’t been tracking every appointment under Buck’s name since their first meeting, “you’re on for Thursday at eight.”

Buck looks torn as Maddie tugs him subtly towards the door, clearly getting that Eddie really doesn’t want to talk anymore about Shannon, even with Buck. Maybe especially with Buck. 

Buck looks at his sister, then back at Eddie, blue eyes sad and full of sympathy Eddie doesn’t really want, “I’ll see you then. I’ll bring, uh– bread.”

That shocks a little huff of laughter from Eddie’s nose, “sounds good.” He looks at Maddie, “it was nice to meet you, hopefully this piece will be what Buck’s been imagining.”

“It will–” Buck rises to his defense even in this weirdly awkward moment between them, “it’s gonna be great.”

“Thanks for letting me crash this thing.” Maddie pulls less subtly on Buck’s wrist, “I can’t wait to ooh and ahh over this piece too.”

The door closes and Eddie is so glad he has another client in ten minutes because he really can’t spend too long worrying about if he just wrecked any chance he had with Buck.

~~~~~

Eddie tried his absolute best to match the same energy he’d always had in their messages for the week between appointments, reading some of them out loud to Alex when she came back from her Saturday and Sunday shifts while Eddie watched Chris and her daughter June. Alex had promised him he sounded just as stupidly into the guy and then made him drink a beer with her so she could ‘do the whole feelings shit’ with him while he tried to explain why he felt Buck sounded different in the texts.

He’d counted exclamation points! There were less. Alex had given up and walked away, handing him off to her new boyfriend, Sam who gave it his best shot.

Buck arrives ten minutes early with a loaf held in front of him like it’s a peace offering, confirming Eddie’s instinct that things were strained. He waves at May, who looks at the package with interest, “what’s that?”

“Zucchini bread.” Buck answers, and Eddie can’t help but perk up because he knows he’d mentioned the local bakery having terrible zucchini bread when Buck had asked if he should go there before work. There’s a tub in a bag hanging from Buck’s wrist, and he must notice Eddie’s glance at it, because it swings when he raises his arm, “I made cream cheese frosting too, but I didn’t want to add it unless you were a fan.”

Eddie smiles, because Buck makes him smile, “I love cream cheese frosting.”

“Me too!” Buck looks excited and open, the air between them feeling more settled, “perfect mix of sweet and sour.”

“Food now or after I stab you a bunch?” Eddie looks at the tinfoil wrapped loaf, trying not to look too hungry. But he knew Buck was bringing something, and he’d been kind of worried before their session.

“Before.” Buck is quick to answer, like he’s hungry too, “I, uh, I think I’ll need the sugar.”

Eddie digs through the utensil drawer he won’t let May clean out for more useful things because sometimes a fork or spoon is a life saver. He emerges with a plastic knife from some takeout he got a long time ago, closing it quickly without reorganizing the pile, and May makes an annoyed noise, so he turns to her, “cállate or no bread.”

She waves him off, “that’s okay. Buck’s your last client tonight and I have a study date in an hour–” They both turn and look at her with interest, “emphasis on study . Leave me alone.”

Eddie looks at Buck, “I don’t remember a ton of study sessions in my life that start at nine at night.”

Buck grins back, “I would say most of the things I do at this time of night are dates.” His eyes widen as he looks at Eddie, “but, like, only most!”

Eddie’s brain shouts THIS COULD BE ONE! even as he tries to keep his face teasing for May, “exactly. So who are you meeting to study with?”

“You two suck.” May replies, “people who would rat me out to my mom if she so much as looked at them wrong get no details.”

“So there are details.” Eddie looks over at Buck conspiratorially, happy to share a grin.

“I will double book you, Eddie.” May narrows her eyes at him, “and Buck, if my mom asks me anything I will know it is you.” Buck mimes zipping his mouth shut and chucks the key across the shop.

May seems satisfied with that promise, so she looks at Eddie, “you good to close up?”

“I did do this for months without you, May.” Eddie sighs as he opens the foil wrapper on the counter and winces as crumbs fall onto the keyboard below.

She just shakes her head at him, “sure, but I bet Alex did a lot of the cleaning up after you.”

“I’m the clean one, actually.” Eddie says as he picks up the crumbs clumsily, typing 9, I, and O while he does, licking his thumb and humming with happiness at the flavor. “You should see the dinner table when she cooks.”

May snorts and puts her bag on her shoulder, “bye guys. See you at Sunday dinner, Buck?”

Buck startles into movement, “uh, y-yeah, tell Thena I’m making zucchini salad. Turns out you don’t need that many for some bread.”

Eddie wonders how many Buck bought just to make him a loaf. He hides his smile by cutting a thick slice and handing it over, “eat up, we’re finishing this piece in one sitting.”

Buck frowns, “okay?”

Eddie nods to himself as he scoops frosting onto his piece, thinking about how in just an hour or so Buck won’t be his client any more and so he can wait a couple of days to make sure everything heals and Buck doesn’t need any touch ups and then ask him out.

~~~~~

“Do you want to go to the beach?” Eddie reads from his phone, looking over at where Alex is sitting sketching for her next client. “Is that– do you think that’s clear?”

She sighs before putting down her pencil, “yes, Eddie, I think asking him if he wants to go to the beach is a clear invitation to hang out outside of your place of work.”

Eddie looks back at the screen, “and you think he’ll know that?”

“From what you’ve told me he’s at least kind of smart and has a job, so I think he can tell a tattoo parlor and a beach apart.” She replies in the deadpan he knows means he’s being unreasonable.

It’s the same tone she used after Shannon had died and he’d been trying to keep on top of his appointments and failing, and had suggested that maybe Chris would be better with his parents. 

He clicks send.

He knows Buck’s recently come off shift, but it’s fifty-fifty if that means he’s asleep. The bubbles pop up quickly, and he’s been under enemy fire but his palms are sweatier now.

sounds good!
Chris finally gonna learn to surf?

Eddie scrubs his hand over his face because normally he would love that Buck knows that about his son, that he listened and remembered when Eddie said he’d considered lessons. But he’s trying to see Buck alone to make sure it’s not just the adrenaline and release of a tattoo that makes Buck’s eyes dilate sometimes when he looks at Eddie.

He doesn’t think it is, but he’s only dated one person seriously and she’d been the one to ask him out, and the couple of guys he’s hooked up since coming out have been pretty brazen too.

“He thinks I’m bringing Chris !” He’s not whining, but he’s close. He’s so glad May doesn’t come in on Monday mornings.

“Tell him you’re not.” Alex says like it’s easy.

Eddie supposes it could be, so he sets his shoulders and types no, just wanted to hang

The bubbles appear and disappear a couple of times, and Eddie frowns at his phone until the response shows up: sounds cool, man! When are where?

They don’t really call each other man, Eddie doesn’t think, but Buck seems at least willing, so he thinks he can be clearer about his interest in person. Before he can respond Buck texts again. I have weird shifts this week cuz someone on B broke and ankle and needs coverage but next week i have T-F off!

It comes through with a party hat emoji that makes Eddie smile even as he realizes he’ll have to wait another week to see Buck. It occurs to him that Buck’s only a little over a week into this tattoo, and he doesn’t want to stand between Buck and healing properly, which means the time frame is helped by the pause even if Eddie doesn’t have to like it. He should probably have chosen somewhere else, but Buck had been saying he hadn’t gotten out to the shore in a while, and Eddie had just wanted to take him. Thankfully Eddie thinks this is a side benefit to being an artist himself, he can bring the right material to keep everyone safe: ill bring saniderm.

oh, yeah! i have SPF 100+. and ill stay out of the water
also i can make sandwiches!

Eddie smiles, and can’t keep himself from encouraging the sprawling enthusiasm that Buck fills even his texts with, even though he needs to put his food down because he made the invite which means he should be supplying the food. that should be good, but ill bring us something

~~~~~

It’s easy to fall into step next to Buck, crossing the sand as they walk along the shoreline, shoulders bumping as they talk about nothing much but how their weeks have been and Chris’s new obsession with space that Eddie has no clue the origin of. Eddie has a backpack on his shoulder, and Buck’s agreed to keep his loose button down on for as long as he can so they don’t have to keep as much track of reapplication.

Even though Eddie’s a little sad Buck is being smart and covering up, he can admit Buck has nice legs– he’s wearing shorts that show his thighs and Eddie likes seeing his work span them. He has to clear his throat when the thought of Buck wrapped around his waist, framing Eddie in his own work comes to him and makes him stumble in the sand a little, but Buck catches his weight easily when he leans in to the space between them from it.

Eddie leans in for a little longer than might be strictly necessary, but Buck doesn’t seem to mind. 

They wander to a quieter area, less accessible to the parking lot so no families are venturing this far. The weather is beautiful but a little hot, and when Eddie suggests they pick a spot on the sand Buck unbuttons and peels off his shirt, grinning up at Eddie boyishly as he pulls out sunscreen and starts applying it to his legs, rucking up his shorts as he does, “I tried. You got the patches?”

Eddie tears his eyes away from what feels like acres of Buck, hunting through the wrapped burritos he’d made and eventually pulling the Saniderm from his backpack. When he looks up Buck is carefully massaging cream into his side, a cute pout of concentration on his face, so Eddie just watches, letting himself benefit from the moment of Buck’s distraction to look his fill.

Or, not his fill . He likes looking at Buck, he doesn’t really think he’d get sick of it.

Buck looks back up, catching him staring, and looks at his legs, grin luminescent, “I got everywhere, promise. Spent good money on ‘em, not gonna mess them up.”

Eddie won’t ever admit to Buck or Alex the discount he’s given the man on last two pieces. May’s influence has upped demand and both he and Alex have been able to raise their rates, but he’s keeping Buck at his old rate. He hopes Buck never sends any friends because Eddie’s not going to want to give them the same rate and he’ll eventually have to come clean.

“Good job.” He watches as Buck goes pink, and Eddie’s pretty sure it’s not from the sun. He holds up the packet, “okay, stay, still.”

Buck rests his wrist on his bent knee while Eddie carefully (probably more carefully than needed) smooths the clear layer over Buck’s skin, eyes skimming over the outline of Buck and Maddie’s hands, linked by their pinkies with a thread weaving in and around them.

It makes him miss his sisters. They’ve been closer since he came out– supportive when his parents weren’t immediately understanding, but he knows it’s hard for them to visit because the city is expensive, and his hours are complicated so they miss each other a lot.

“She loved it.” Buck says softly, “Maddie.”

Eddie smiles, “I guessed, since you made her take that video for me.”

He’d gotten a video of Maddie saying “it’s beautiful, Eddie.” That had ended with her glaring behind the camera at Buck.

“She wanted to!” Buck defends himself, “and you deserve to hear it!”

Eddie smiles, sitting down in the sand next to Buck, “I dunno, May has an hour every week where she reads us comments, and I feel like I hear a lot from some guy who calls himself a bigbuckingdeal .” It’s Eddie’s favorite time of the week, even when Alex keeps shooting him significant looks.

Buck’s hand covers his whole face, “ May . She’s picking and choosing the most embarrassing ones I bet. Sometimes I comment at like three when I’ve been on shift for fifteen hours so any typos or overly enthusiastic emojis are not my fault. Blame the LAFD.”

Eddie shakes his head, “sure, bud.”

The sun is too warm combined with the way Buck looks shirtless, so Eddie decides to even the playing field by taking off his own.

The gasp from Buck’s lips when Eddie strips off his shirt makes him twist, looking over his shoulder at the man whose eyes are firmly on Eddie’s back, like he can’t look away. Eddie loves the piece that spans his whole torso, a Gothic window framing an anatomical study of the muscles and bones beneath in the style of older stained glass art. He’d spent too many hours looking at his own reflection in his phone camera for the months after Alex had finished.

“Oh, yeah, it’s better in person, right?” He smiles, “took two days, but I love it.”

Buck’s hand twitches on his thigh like he wants to touch it, and Eddie’s about to invite him to when Buck moves his hand to the sand and clutches it instead, instead clearing his throat,“I didn’t know that was you on the wall.”

Eddie stretches to get more comfortable, putting his hand on the sand behind Buck’s, “yeah, our pieces are both up there. Apprentices don’t get a lot of chances to do much more than trace work, so to build out our portfolios we worked on each other.”

Buck worries at his lip, “which is hers?”

Eddie thinks his own work is beautiful, but he doesn’t expect Buck to remember each series of shapes and lines, “it’s, there’s a purple and blue piece with Xs, I can find a picture.”

Buck shakes his head, twisting so he can draw on the sand, still propped up on the hand near Eddie’s, tracing a sloppy curve near some circles, “is it like this? Hanging next to the mirror?”

Eddie smiles because it sends a fizz of joy through him that Buck knows his studio so well, “yeah– it’s a night sky. She said it had to be something she loves, since she let me pick the anatomy art style, and we used to lay out on my truck hood and share a couple beers before we came out here– she always enjoyed showing me up by knowing all the constellations.”

Buck looks down at the sand thoughtfully, “that piece is beautiful.”

Eddie’s not sure why he sounds sad, but sometimes Buck gets a little withdrawn, and from his texts the past week it was a tough set of shifts without his regular team, so Eddie digs around in the bag he brought and passes over a Capri Sun.

It startles Buck out of whatever he was thinking about, a smile growing on his lips, “should have known.”

Eddie stabs his own pouch, “what?”

“You steal these from Chris’s stash at home or at work?” Buck accuses as he opens his straw, “because I know you don’t have kids come by, you just gave me your kid’s juice.”

Eddie doesn’t blush, but he’s glad his sunglasses hide some of his reaction, “we have kids sometimes .”

“When?” Buck drinks and Eddie can’t help himself from watching the purse of his lips. “Tell me the last time a parent has brought a kid to Tatuar and you gave them juice and it wasn’t Chris.”

Eddie thinks about it, realizing how long it’s been since even Chris had them, he’s mostly kept them around for Buck, “maybe three months ago?”

Buck clearly didn’t expect him to have an answer, so he narrows his eyes as he drinks more, “how do you know that?”

“Alex brought June in because there was a school holiday and we couldn’t find midday coverage.” Eddie tilts his head, trying to remember the details.

Buck sits up straighter, “who’s June?”

It’s weird how Eddie sometimes feels so thrown by Buck not knowing everything. They talk a lot, but not about the nitty gritty details like coworker’s kids. “Oh, her kid. She’s four.”

“She– uh, oh.” Buck swallows, frowning, “I didn’t know– that must be nice for Chris.”

Eddie considers it, “I think he wishes she were closer to his age, but at least she doesn’t try and eat his toys anymore.” Buck looks tense, crossing his legs, and Eddie doesn’t know why, “it’s hard to be friends with that age gap, but I think it’s good for him to be around her.”

Buck’s shoulders fall, and he leans back, putting his hand into the sand near Eddie’s again, “yeah, yeah, of course.” He turns, smiling, “I’m glad he gets that.”

Eddie can feel the sides of his eyes crinkle up, “me too.”

They look out at the water for a bit, Buck seeming to be lost in thought again, but Eddie’s just happy to be near him. He leans into Buck’s space, pointing at the thigh nearest to him, then the water, “pretty good color match.”

Buck smiles, traces a finger across the curve of the wave, then looking up at the water, “yeah, some guy named eddiebodywantssome did nice work. Too bad you don’t have any room on you, or I’d give you his number.”

Eddie gestures at his mostly bare chest, just a pop of black at one hip and a swirl of colors at his side, a piece he’d designed and had Alex do, the warm shapes and swirls how he feels when he thinks about the family and home he’s built himself in L.A. “no room?”

Buck looks him up and down, and Eddie feels the stare like a touch until Buck looks away, ears pinker, “okay, sure. Maybe there’s some space.”

“Damn right there is.” Eddie looks at Buck’s silhouette, letting himself appreciate the blush. “You want a burrito?”

Buck looks over, head tilted back as he looks to the sky, “depends, did you make them?”

“I did. And Chris helped, so you better eat the whole thing and let me take a photo so I can show him, because he was pretty sad to miss out.”

“Bring him next time.” Buck looks over at Eddie, “he’s cool, and I know you like days you two hang out more than the ones you don’t.”

“Yeah, but I like you too.” Eddie says honestly.

Buck grins, “two things better together, Eds. You’re a package deal and that rules.”

That makes Eddie feel fond enough that he has to move to pull out the burritos rather than just grin at Buck like an idiot.

Chapter Text

Eddie broke the barrier so they’re bros now, which means Buck doesn’t have to feel weird about texting him things like after this shift i need some beer and then to sleep for three days.

Eddie’s reply is quick, Chris is w abuela tonight come by shop at 9?

Buck hadn’t really expected the implied ask to work, so he smiles down at his phone while using his hip to close the drawer in the kitchen.

“Is that the Eddie Diaz texting you, Buck?” Chim says from where he’s bent, propping himself up on his elbows because every time Chim’s gone to lie down this shift they’d gotten a call, which means he’s standing til Bobby lets them head out.

Buck tucks the phone away, jutting his chin out, ready to endure more teasing, “yeah.”

“Don’t listen to him, I think it’s nice you have someone outside the one eighteen to talk to.” Hen calls out from where she’s doing a crossword instead of napping because Chim claimed best friend solidarity. “Even if it means you’ve picked up extra shifts to pay for it.”

Lucy’s lying on the couch, playing catch with a ball of tinfoil Buck had thrown at her, “I think it’s insane you think he’s straight.”

“I didn’t say that.” Buck glares over at her, “I said he is in a relationship with a woman.”

Lucy snorts, “no one would text you til two in the morning if they had someone serious next to them, Buck. We’re partners and I don’t let your number get through my sleep setting.”

“I– look, it seems kind of unusual and alternative or whatever. They both have kids, own a business together. He lost his wife a year ago. I-I bet it’s complicated to make that move, blend the family or something.” Buck scrubs a hand over his face, knowing he’s not making a ton of sense, but he’s just so tired and no one’s gotten more than twenty minutes of shut eye this whole twenty four. “It– look, I. C-can we please play tease Buck about his big hopeless crush when we haven’t gotten more calls than I can count on all my fingers and toes?”

“Deal.” Chim leans forward and presses his forehead to the counter, voice muffled into the surface, “I just want to close my eyes for two minutes–”

The bell rings and everyone yells “Chimney!” in a chorus of frustration.

The next two hours they deal with three more calls, one when Chim puts his head on his forearms on the ride back, the other when he leans against the wall, eyes closing, and the last when he slumps against the ambulance. It gets to the point where Hen threatens to tie Chim to a column so he can’t lie down and shoot him full of epinephrine so there’s no more risk of closing his eyes.

Buck isn’t sure he was really safe to drive to Tatuar, but he wants to see Eddie, and he thinks once he’s with him he’ll be able to perk up. He runs a hand through his hair, glad he doesn’t come back with any of the powdery residue that the last call had left on all of them. 

“Hi Buck!” Eddie calls from the back, “I’m just wrapping this up, gimme twenty?”

Buck can’t help but smile at the happiness on Eddie’s face at seeing him, even as he’s bent over some girl’s ankle, a swirling twist of black all Buck can make out, “sure, take your time!” He sits on the couch, enjoying the feeling of it underneath him after the shift from hell. 

“Feel free to grab a pre-beer Capri Sun.” Eddie replies, making Buck feel warm at the idea that Eddie is cool with him moving into the employee only space.

He leans back, letting the couch catch the back of his head, “nah, I had so much sugar to keep me up the last couple calls.”

“Okay.” Eddie replies, and there’s a song Buck almost recognizes playing softly, the sound of the hum of the gun in Eddie’s hand. He blinks slowly, wondering how Eddie’s going to do all the closing tasks, and guesses he’s going to leave them for the morning, which he does every once in a while and then May texts Buck about how her boss is a pig.

The next blink is slower.

He lets his eyes stay shut.

~~~~~

He wakes up to a little pressure on his shoulder, “Buck, man, you’re gonna hurt your neck.”

Buck’s a first responder. He knows how to move into awake mode when it’s needed, so he sits up, looking around, confused at how the shop is silent and mostly dark in the back. “Oh, shit– sorry, I–” he looks at his watch and it’s after ten, “Eddie, why didn’t you wake me up?”

Eddie smiles at him warmly, “you look like you needed it. Plus, you saved me the earful from May and Alex tomorrow. I cleaned everything which means someone can’t complain if there aren’t enough sterilized materials– it’s her month to do supply orders.”

Buck rubs at his eyes, feeling the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks, “I– man, shit. I’m sorry, shift from hell, like I said, I don’t think– I’ll just, uh, I’ll head out.”

Eddie frowns, “no way you’re driving like this. I can drop you off at yours, and tomorrow you can come by and pick up your Jeep.”

Buck can’t exactly say he doesn’t want that, or that Eddie’s wrong, but he still feels like an idiot for falling asleep when he could have gotten to sit next to Eddie at a bar, beer in hand. “Nah, I- I can’t make you– I’ll call a car–”

Eddie’s hand finds his shoulder, thumb soothing little circles right over Buck’s collarbone, “I want to. Plus, I don’t think you’ll make it that far awake, so I’ll worry that you fell asleep in the Uber and got abducted.”

That makes Buck smile, pushing off his knees as he stands, grimacing at the ache in his joint, the confirmation that even the external beauty of Eddie’s work hasn’t solved the underlying damage. “Okay, but just so you don’t spend all night blowing up my phone because I fell asleep before plugging it again.”

“Good boy.” Eddie says, tone a little joking and Buck blames his exhaustion for the choked noise he barely manages to keep in by covering it with an awkward cough.

Eddie is a real bro for letting him get away with it.

~~~~~

Buck knows how to make really great breakfast sandwiches, and there’s a place on the twenty or so minute walk to Tatuar that has lattes that he knows May’s posted on her Instagram as a midday treat for the shop. So he arrives with a tray of drinks– thankfully the shop knew the usuals for the shop, so Buck didn’t have to guess for Alex– and a bag on his elbow loaded down with egg sandwiches. There’s conversation happening in the back of the shop, Alex talking to Eddie about something– “man up , Diaz!”

“Buck! What are you–” May says loudly, and then spies the drinks in his hand, “ooh, one of those better be for me and not the crew.”

Buck grins, “nah, we’re off for a couple days. Came to grab my car and to be a generous patron of the arts.”

May gives him a look like she knows what he’s doing, which is the spitting image of the looks Athena gives him when she sees him sneaking in to grab a roll before dinner. “Well, thanks for your patronage.”

“You’re welcome!” Buck puts the tray down and does a bow, “thank you for making my appointments.” He picks up the matcha latte and brings it over to Alex, who is curled up with her knees up and her ipad zoomed very far in on some mechanism Buck doesn’t recognize, “I hope they know your order.”

She looks up at him, and Buck didn’t realize she had such intense green eyes, but it makes sense that Eddie would have good taste, “they do! Thanks. You didn’t have to, I know Eddie’s your guy.” She winks at him.

“He– I mean, he’s– I wouldn’t–” Buck sputters, because it’s bad enough that all his coworkers know, knowing that he’s obvious enough that even Alex knows is mortifying. Does she mind? Or worse, does Eddie talk about him with her? Does he think Buck’s weird and clingy?

“Leave him alone.” Eddie snarks over, and she takes a sip, still looking up at Buck like she knows.  

At Eddie’s voice Buck turns, stopping at the desk to grab their two drinks. He’d been pretty sure the coffee shop would get things right based on their description of Eddie’s iced quad shot with one percent and a single pump of cinnamon syrup. “Brought you a sandwich too, a tip for the best Uber driver I’ve ever had.”

Eddie snorts, “I noticed you didn’t rate me five stars.”

Buck laughs before digging his phone out and sending Eddie a text of five star emojis, “done.”

The buzz at Eddie’s elbow is immediate, and when Eddie swipes to open it he can tell Eddie’s phone is in Do Not Disturb. Which means Buck’s on the list to get through no matter the time.

That makes something like pride buzz in Buck’s spine, so he covers the emotion up by bringing out a foil covered sandwich with E written on it in black marker.

Eddie accepts it, looking at the letter, and Buck feels the way too familiar instinct to explain, “I– I don’t really like hot sauce, but I know you do, so I had to mark which one would destroy me.”

Eddie looks at the letter again, and then up at Buck, holding eye contact, “you wanna try again tonight?”

Buck screws his face up, “huh?”

“Drinks?” Eddie explains, eyes darting over to Alex, making Buck feel her eyes on his back more intensely, “tonight?”

Buck can’t help the smile, even if he knows Alex can see him, is probably rolling her eyes internally at his crush on her partner, “yeah, sure. Same time? I- I promise to be awake for the whole time.”

“Yeah– that works.” Eddie nods, then looks at the breakfast sandwich, then tattoo bench like he’s considering something, and finally the couch in the front where some clients have just entered and have sat down to look at his and Alex’s portfolios, flipping through them and making little oohs and aahs of admiration. His face falls, and he looks back up at Buck, small frown at the edges of his mouth, “I– I gotta–”

“All good, I know you’re booked!” Buck says quickly, “I gotta do some stuff– laundry, groceries, nap! Gotta get my beauty rest before I wreck any chance of good sleep by layering beer on tater tots.”

Eddie smiles, “looking forward to it.”

“Yeah!” Buck covers his blush at his own enthusiasm that’s too big for the shop by taking a long sip of his coffee. “Bye!” He looks at May as he head out, waving, “bye!” He stops himself from repeating it to the customers, but he does opt to say, “this place is the best! You’re gonna love whatever you get!”

~~~~~

Buck arrives while Eddie’s cleaning this time, showered and freshly shaved, one of his favorite comfy but still nice long sleeves on. “Hey!”

Eddie turns down the music Buck hadn’t recognized, smiling, “just dealing with sanitizing, then I’m ready.”

“Great!” Buck grins, leaning his elbows on the front desk, “just to be safe I’m not going near that couch, it’s too comfy.”

Eddie shakes his head, “can’t have that.”

Buck looks down to where Eddie had clearly been sketching at the desk while answering phones. There’s a familiar set of lines– kind of like ripples, maybe terrain lines on the page. It always blows his mind that Eddie can take something two dimensional and know how it’ll wrap around the body, but this one time he recognizes the piece. 

“Is this your forearm piece?” He looks at the page, turning his head back and forth, trying to see it as a cylinder instead of flat.

Eddie looks over, “oh, yeah! Chris wants to bring something in for show and tell about parent careers, and he loves this piece. I figured I’d draw it out for him, then make a stencil so he can show the process off.” 

Buck smiles, “do they not do career day anymore? Because that’s a shame that he doesn’t get to bring you in and show you off! I bet kids would think this is so cool.”

“Okay, you’re a firefighter?” Eddie asks, “that’s the cool job to kids. The facts about the different parts of the engine and ladder trucks were big hits at the Diaz breakfast table.”

Buck knows his grin is wide and goofy, “if he ever wants a tour of them you can bring him round anytime.”

Eddie’s face does something complicated, like he’s surprised, voice softening, “yeah– yeah, he’d love it.”

Buck looks back at the lines and shapes, “what is this piece about? I don’t think you’ve said?”

Eddie grabs his wallet off his work station and walks over, looking at the paper, “uh–”

Buck suddenly remembers the last time he learned about one of Eddie’s tattoos– and wants to kick himself in the head, speaking as quickly as he can before Eddie feels pressured, “you don’t have to–”

“It’s about coming out.” Eddie says before Buck can get out more words, and his face is all determination and no discomfort. “It’s– it’s how I feel about being gay.”

Buck blinks, feeling his mouth hang open, “what?”

“There’s, you know, all sorts of paths and breaks, but through it there’s this background knowledge and it shines through? Or it did for me–” Eddie keeps speaking, like he isn’t breaking Buck’s brain with every word he says.

“You’re not gay.” Buck says because he’s an idiot who refuses to think before speaking .

He’s right to regret it because Eddie’s clearly bothered by that response, “what? Yes I am.”

“But– how–” Buck searches through every conversation every moment. Moves into Eddie’s side of the shop, no longer putting the counter between them. “You’re not.” 

Eddie’s shoulders fall, like he’s disappointed, and Buck thinks that’s fair, “all kind of people can be gay, Buck.”

“I know that .” Buck cuts him off, because he’s not doubting that, “but– you–” Eddie crosses his arms, and it’s so obvious Buck has fucked this conversation up terribly , and he has to find a way back to a logical island, “you’re– Alex?”

Eddie’s expression changes to confusion, “my Alex?”

“She’s a woman.” Buck says, and he wishes he had had like ten more seconds to process so he could sound like less of an idiot. He sits on the edge of the tattoo bed, shaking his head, trying to come to terms with how wrong he’d been.

“Correct.” Eddie squints at Buck, like he’s expecting a punchline.

“She’s– I know there’s lots, I did research, there’s like queer platonic things and– but partnerships feel, I didn’t– sorry, I sound–”

Eddie steps forward, closer, “Buck do you think I’m with Alex? ”

Buck nods.

“Holy shit you’re so lucky you’re smart because that’s so fucking stupid.” Eddie looks at Buck like he can’t believe the man in front him exists, “she’s my partner. At work. We signed a lease together.”

“But her kid–”

“Is hers , and mine is mine. We split costs of childcare things because we’re friends who work together and babysitters are fucking expensive in this city.” Eddie steps a little closer, “Buck, I am gay.”

Buck can’t help feeling the words like an impact on his sternum, but he knows not all guys into men are into him, so he shouldn’t get too excited, “Sorry! I uh, congrats? Should– do you want that?”

“Thanks?” Eddie’s smile is growing, “I’ve been out for over a year, though, so no need to make me a cake. I thought you knew.”

Buck shakes his head, “I-I’m bi!”

Eddie laughs, close enough that his jeans are against the knees of Buck’s pants, a little taller than Buck with the height of the bench, “yeah, you mentioned that sometime during the tsunami piece. And I more meant I have a rainbow on my arm, thought I was pretty obvious. What did you think it was for?”

Buck looks at the piece, black ripples over a rainbow of shapes, “you’re going to judge me.”

Eddie shakes his head, the smile on his lips telling Buck he’s full of shit, “I won’t.”

“I thought it was because you like color.” Buck mumbles, then looks up and sees Eddie’s eyes crinkling more at the sides and raises his voice to defend himself, “you do tattoos! I thought you were just. Really into colors.”

“Colors?” Eddie’s laughing now, “like they’re a sport team? Let’s go ROY G BIV?”

“Shut up .” Buck tucks his chin down, feeling his cheeks heat up, “plenty of people like rainbows, how was I supposed to know?”

Eddie gestures at the wall next to the counter, “the pride flag?”

“Allies have them!” Buck squeezes his eyes shut, because Lucy is going to be unbearable , “I– I had one last year!”

Eddie snorts, reminding Buck he’s not actually an ally, “Buck.”

“I heard it.” Buck mumbles, letting his legs spread open as he rubs his hands nervously on on thighs. “Sorry, I’m not doing this right. I support you. I’m happy you’re getting to be who you are.” He looks up, meeting Eddie’s eyes for the first time, “and, umm, I’m pretty glad you’re not with Alex.”

Eddie looks back at him, something like hope in his gaze, “yeah?”

Buck nods, wondering if maybe he’s read not just the relationship status of Eddie wrong.

“Good.” Eddie steps in the space between Buck’s knees slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Buck’s face, “because I would really like this date to be a date.”

Buck gasps, “wait. The beach?” He thinks back to the day on the sand with a burrito and Eddie grinning under his sunglasses, cheeks pink because he insisted only his tattoos needed sunscreen, “that was a date? ”

“I mean–” Eddie’s gaze flickers down to Buck’s lips, “it– I was trying.”

“Holy shit, Eddie, I spent like half that day wondering how much of my body I can cover in tattoos just to get your hands on me again.” Buck admits in a rush, “I– I had this weird plan that I’d get something once a month on every inch of me that’s covered by the LAFD uniform until I’d gotten over you or gone broke.”

Eddie surges forward, stepping closer, Buck’s legs bracketing his thighs, hand on Buck’s jaw, he pauses a breath away from Buck’s lips, like he’s making sure Buck’s okay with this, and Buck makes an embarrassing little noise in the back of his throat and closes the distance between them.

Thanks to the timing of his realization– kinda high on painkillers, laid up with a permanently a little fucked up knee– Buck hasn’t actually had any opportunity to kiss any men. He’d expected it to be either completely and earth-changingly novel, or maybe exactly the same. Lips, teeth, tongue, shared inhales and exhales.

He’s not sure if it’s men or if it’s Eddie, but it’s neither and both.

Eddie’s lips feel like lips, but they’re bare, and there’s a little stubble at the bow at the top. 

His hands are huge , spanning most of Buck’s thigh when he puts them under, lifting his leg a little so Eddie can fit in, but they’re also so familiar when they drag and leave goosebumps down his forearms.

Eddie’s tall, leaning into his space as Buck moves back a little on the bench, feeling the creak of the black leather under his hand, but Buck’s been crowded into corners of couches before, likes being ridden, loves being looked down at by his partners from the floor.

Eddie’s hand is on the tattoo bed behind Buck’s hip, his hand on Buck’s thigh, holding him, and Buck’s hands have to be behind him, holding himself up because Eddie’s touch has his joints feeling shaky, and he’d been so willing for this to be some intense thing– a crush of lips, maybe a bruise sucked on Buck’s shoulder that Eddie hasn’t permanently marked already. But it’s not. Eddie kisses soft and slow, pulling back to press his lips to Buck’s jaw, to his neck. He isn’t rushed, or fevered, he feels inevitable. He feels like the tide, rising up to cover Buck.

Eddie leans back, taking Buck in, looking over his face, and Buck lets him look. He lets himself be seen rather than reach for him and drag him in and pull him down onto Buck so they can lie on the table where Eddie’s pressed Buck down with soothing touches while he drew a harsh needle across his skin. He lets Eddie trace the edge of Buck’s birthmark, like he’s memorizing the outline.

Buck’s been hungry for attention his whole life. He doesn’t know why. He’s always thought it was because his parents hadn’t looked at him enough, but maybe it’s because the his sister left town, and then his first real serious relationship never called him back.

So in relationships he can admit he’s something like a foster dog, always begging for whomever he’s with, or sometimes people he isn’t with, to look his way. To give him scraps from their plates, to drop crumbs at their feet and let him lap them up.

But Eddie? Eddie looks at him like he’s worth making a plate for even when Eddie’s not hungry. He kisses like he’d spend all his time in Buck’s space if he could, like he’d buy him a nice new collar and get him all his shots, no matter the cost.

“Let’s go get that beer.” Eddie says softly, like he can hear all of Buck’s thoughts.

Buck blinks again, he kind of feels like all Eddie’s done in the past thirty minutes is rotate his worldview, “yeah?”

“Yeah. You texted earlier that you watched a documentary today while cooking. I want to hear about it.” Eddie guides Buck forward, off the table, “I wanna date you, Buck.”

And Buck’s never been wooed, he doesn’t think, but Eddie Diaz saying he wants to take Buck out, that he’d rather drink beer with him at a bar and listen to him talk about the Mars rover, that makes him feel better than the rush of a tattoo. “I mostly watched it because you said Chris likes space and I’m running out of space facts.”

Eddie does that face again, the one where it looks like Buck is made of gold and Eddie’s in awe of him. He stares for a beat and then grabs at Buck’s hand, pulling him towards the door, “Well, I won’t tell him I’ve heard them before if you won’t.”

~~~~~

Eddie had opted to sit on the same side of the table as him, and it’s kind of criminal because it means Buck can’t look at him, but he’s also warm against Buck’s side, and he hadn’t objected when Buck put his arm over the back of the booth, so he’s just leaning into Buck as they talk, which Buck knows should be awkward, but it’s fun to people watch with Eddie and since it’s a weeknight the bar is full of far more interesting things than it ever would be on a Friday.

He’s had less than half his pint but he feels warm and giggly, drunk on Eddie.

“Whoever did that coverup should be– uh, should… think about going back to school.” Eddie says, and Buck has to put a little space between them so he can look at his face because Buck was expecting a little more sass for the state of the tattoo on the man’s neck. Buck can read MANDY through the ugly rose no issue, even though it’s clear its a layer on top.

Eddie notices his look, and sighs, “Chris got an assignment this week to try and change every insult he thinks into something constructive and he asked me to try too, and I promised I would try once a day and tell him and I just realized I hadn’t done it yet today.” Eddie explains, then takes a sip of his beer, jaw a little jutted forward like he hates the homework but does it for his kid.

“Oh, okay, hmm.” Buck looks around, then eventually tries to indicate with his eyeline who he’s talking about, “th- that guy is applying himself to, uh, to learning how to hear a beat and interpret it into movement.”

The man in question is doing a strange little dance that’s so very not on the one two three or four that even Buck can tell he’s a lost cause.

Eddie’s lips quirk up on one side of his mouth, looking around, then down at the bottle he just drank from, “this bar does a good job of being environmentally friendly by using limes throughout their ripeness cycle.”

Buck nods, eyes not just taking in the way Eddie’s hand makes the bottle look small, “they really do.” He looks around, “it also seems like they’re being thrifty! They’re doing a great job of letting their booths get that authentic distressed look that so many trendy places try for.”

He can feel the shake of Eddie’s laughter in his ribs, right where he’s pressed into Buck’s phoenix, and he wonders if it’s possible to get a feeling tattooed onto his bones. “I appreciate how they have decided to celebrate that everyone’s voice should be heard and left the sound on for all five different games.”

“It helps fill any awkward silences that might happen. So thoughtful.” Buck leans his head to the side and the feeling of Eddie’s earring dragging along the tendon of his neck goes on the list of sensations he wants on him forever. “You know, decision fatigue is a plague that hurts all of us each day, and they’re doing their part to combat it by offering just the five beers.”

Eddie nods, and it makes the hair trail along Buck’s temple, “they’re also trying to make sure we’re all truly informed consumers by making sure all of them are subtle in their differences.”

Buck’s eyes scan over the five taps: Miller, Bud, Coors, Busch, and Natty. He can’t even remember what he ordered, and there’s no way to tell by sipping it. Eddie had made the right call with a Corona. Even if the lime is pretty sad and kind of brown.

They settle into each other, easy, not awkward, just looking around and being close.

Buck has a passing thought that he could do this until the sun collapses. Just sit with Eddie leaning into him, playing a dumb game that’s just for them. It should scare him, maybe. How quick he jumps to forever.

“Did you know if the universe was infinitely old we’d never see darkness?” He says, because he’d promised Eddie a cool space fact and he’d already told him about everything the rover is doing on Mars. 

Eddie tilts his head, because he’s always listening, even in noisy bars that make Buck feel a little over-sensitized. “Why?”

“There’d be stars everywhere with infinite time. And their light would have reached us already, so the sky would just be, like, TV static of stars.” He’s pretty sure that’s what the guy had said on the YouTube video he’d watched. It had been three am and he had just put a barrier on his texting Eddie after two, but he’s got pretty good recall usually.

Eddie nods like he’s considering this fact, “I like that.”

“What, that the universe has an age?” Buck wants to know exactly the kind of fact that makes Eddie happy. He’ll research them until his eyes bleed if he has to.

Eddie shakes his head, “I just like the way you explain it.”

Buck has spent a lot of his life getting shushed and quieted and asked to go run around outside and called a class clown and sighed at and snarked at and had hands put over his mouth just to shut him up. He’s been given every comment that means loud under the sun (good and bad): chatty, talkative, expressive, distracting, social, boisterous, communicative. He knows he talks, he just sometimes can’t stop it. And that’s not to say people hate it, people have liked it, they’ve said he’s funny, that he’s a story teller, that he knows a ton, that he contributes to the class discussion fruitfully.

He doesn’t think anyone’s just liked that he talks before, like it’s not a double-edged sword.

He doesn’t have the right words to respond, so he just turns his head and presses the bridge of his nose to Eddie’s temple and wonders how he can get the man to tattoo Property of Eddie Diaz across his throat so anyone who sees him will know.

Chapter Text

Alex sighs as she finishes packing up for the day, “you know, when I said I wanted you to get your ass in gear and ask the guy out I didn’t think about how the whole Disney princess vibe you’d get would affect me.”

Eddie stops from where he’s scrubbing, “excuse me?”

“You were humming and there may as well have been birds chirping around you and rabbits at your feet. You’re twitterpated.” She points at him, “and I’m starting to feel like the side character who has one comedy song.”

Eddie knows June’s in her Disney binge moment, otherwise he’d made more fun of Alex for the references, “I don’t think–”

“Two days ago I caught you doing a little chacha to a J. Lo song while sweeping.” She rolls her eyes while fighting down a smile. “Got to see those championship moves in action.”

Eddie remembers that because Alex had sent the video to Buck. Eddie had gotten so many texts from Buck in response because now that Buck knows she’s not any sort of competition they’ve started texting just to disturb Eddie’s peace, and he’s only managed to keep her from telling Buck about his history in ballroom by threatening to tell June about her mother’s passion for Baby Shark. “I’m just dancing. Plus you should call yourself lucky to see because I’m actually pretty good.”

“I’ve taken you to a club. Turns out the competition skills do not translate to the real world.” 

Eddie puts the rag down, hand firmly on his hip, memory of moving to a beat on his mind, “a lot of guys would disagree.”

She shoots him another look as she unplugs her phone and puts it in her pocket, “it was a gay club, you were in mesh , and you look like that.” She gestures at him, “you could have stood still and guys would have complimented your moves.”

Eddie tries to remember that night, the night his divorce would have been finalized, had they both signed the papers when Shannon had invited him to her apartment and asked him if he wanted to be married anymore. He’d whispered wetly into her shoulder that he was sorry and that if he was ever going to find a life with a woman she’d have been it. She’d broken out the tequila and told him that she’d always love him, but she was pretty relieved she didn’t have to be in love with him anymore.

Lawyers are slow, so they’d made an appointment together, a whole month so they could find a way to tell Christopher. She was dead almost eleven days later.

“I don’t remember much of that night.” He says, frowning down at his station, “I blame you.”

She gasps, mock affronted, “well I blame José, Jack, and Jim Beam.”

He wrinkles his nose, a flash of a sense memory of a shot that burned going down and the distinct smell of Jack Daniels that permeated that shirt even after he washed it. “Based on how you basically had to pour me into bed that night I would think me being a Disney prince would be preferable.”

Alex snorts, “yeah, sure, but I never said prince , Eddie.”

“Wow. Homophobia, in my workplace?” Eddie jokes because he knows every time Alex teases she is shouting to the world that she cares about him.

Alex cackles, shrugging her bag onto her shoulder, “that’s right, princess. Gotta grab June from daycare– already got fined twice this week for being like, at most, ten minutes late. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye!” Eddie gives her the finger as he wraps up prepping for his next session.

The phone rings, and Eddie throws away the gloves he was wearing, hoping it’s his next client calling to say they’re going to be early because he has an awkward block of time until their appointment, and since Buck is free for a day and a half starting around four Eddie would love to get out a little early so Buck can come over and watch a movie with him and Chris. Chris has been requesting Finding Nemo for days and Eddie thinks he can stomach a millionth watch if Buck’s next to him.

“Eddie, it’s Chris’s school.” May says, and Eddie moves quickly, feeling his heart race like it does anytime they call.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mr. Diaz. It’s Nurse Paula from the Durand School.” 

Eddie swallows down the worry, “yeah, hi. How can I help you? Is Christopher okay?”

“He’s fine now, but he did throw up a little bit ago, and he says it definitely wasn’t from something he ate at lunch, so if you could come and pick him up that would be great.” The hesitancy in her tone makes him want to yell at every other parent in the school who just leaves their sick kid there to suffer.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He looks around at the shop, “I can be there in forty, maybe faster if the traffic is on my side.”

She laughs, “well, I don’t think it’s ever been on mine, so I’ll see you in forty. Also, Mr. Diaz, I have to remind you of our policy–”

“He can’t be back in the building until he has been twenty four hours free of vomit.” Eddie sighs, remembering the rule the second she brings it up. “No problem, I know how this stuff spreads, I’ll keep him home. See you soon.”

“Thank you, Mr. Diaz.” She sounds relieved and Eddie bets a lot of parents try and argue with her about that regulation, which makes him a little annoyed all over again. “I’ll keep an eye on Chris and make sure he’s ready for you to bring him home as soon as you’re here.”

“Thanks.” He hangs up and at his hip May opens the scheduler. Eddie winces at the three long blocks he has planned tomorrow. “Don’t cancel them, I’ll see if I can get coverage, just call Willow for their session tonight? Tell them I’m sorry and book them for any time next week– I’ll even stay late.”

May just nods, already pulling up the information, “go get him, call me once he’s settled with a Ginger Ale and we can make a plan.”

Not for the first time Eddie feels his shoulders lighten thanks to her work. He makes a mental note to buy her dinner for their next late night, maybe sushi. “Thanks.”

He pulls out his phone as he walks to the car, texting Buck raincheck movie night: chris threw up at school, driving to him now

Buck sends three giant crying emojis, then dont text and drive!

Eddie barely sits down before the phone’s ringing, and it makes him smile even as he buckles his seatbelt and lets his car speaker connect, “hey, Buck. I just got in the car, no distracted driving I promise.”

“How is he feeling?” Buck sounds so worried, and it makes Eddie want to kiss him through the phone.

“Nurse said he’s mostly okay, I just have to keep him home tomorrow. Sorry to cancel on you–” there’s a voice in Eddie’s mind that reminds him things like this is why people don’t date single parents.

“Eddie, it’s fine .” Buck sounds fully sincere, and it eases a bit of worry in Eddie’s chest. “Do you guys have everything you need? Saltines, soup, Gatorade?”

Eddie tries to remember, “not sure, definitely some Pedialyte in the fridge, and I can always make him plain toast.”

“Call me when you get home and I’ll do a run post-work to grab what you need.” Buck offers like it’s nothing like Eddie should be used to the selfless support he’s offering. It makes Eddie squeeze the wheel in some kind of replacement for physical closeness.

“You don’t have to.” He replies, “we have–”

“Call me.” Buck says firmly. “I want you to.” The bell goes off in the background, “call me!”

“Okay okay!” Eddie says over Buck’s chorus of byes.

The traffic being horrible doesn’t feel so much like a kick to the stomach after the warmth from Buck’s call. 

~~~~~

Eddie’s finally gotten Chris set up comfortably– he’s clearly got some stomach bug that will probably pass in a day, but that means he can’t spend the day with the babysitter because she’ll be with June, and Eddie’s not going to expose abuela or Pepa to the stomach flu.

He sighs, thinking about the couple thousand bucks he’ll have to reschedule and then re-budget around depending on when the clients will be available. 

There’s a knock at the door and Eddie knows it’s Buck without checking. Even though he’d called him to say they were fine– there’s some cans of Ginger Ale cooling in his fridge left over from the last time June had passed the bug to Chris before they knew she was sick and a sleeve of only mildly stale Saltines ready to be deployed.

He walks to the door, opening the view hole, and Buck’s framed in it perfectly. If Alex wouldn’t make fun of him for the whole tattoo he’d maybe ask for the image somewhere.

“Buck–” he sighs, opening the door, knowing his smile is fond even as he wants to admonish the man, “I said–”

Buck holds up a couple of bags, “Bobby and Hen both said that no parent means it when they say they’re fine dealing with the stomach bug alone. And they said that fresh ginger tea can help. And that you would probably forget to eat because you’re worried and cleaning vomit is gross.”

Eddie hadn’t even thought about dinner since Chris is barely keeping down singular crackers. He tries his last defense, “you’re gonna get sick.”

Buck shakes his head, “I get exposed to everything all the time. Someone threw up on my feet like a week ago.”

Eddie can feel his resolve crumbling as he looks at the man in front of him, “I– Buck, it’s really okay–”

“Do you want to do this solo?” Buck asks, frowning, and Eddie can’t lie about that, so he shakes his head, which makes Buck set his shoulders and lift the bags again, “okay, then scoot. I have ice cream and I don’t want it to melt and them get freezer burn.”

Eddie moves and Buck bustles in, moving into the kitchen, “I know I said this last week, but I like your kitchen.”

Eddie follows, “it’s nothing special.”

Buck looks around, “I dunno, it just feels– I like it, that’s all.”

Eddie tries to see it with Buck’s eyes, “it is comfy.”

“Homey!” Buck nods along as he unpacks the groceries, and then turns, “you want tortellini or gnocchi in your soup? I got both because they’re mostly chill on the stomach once Chris feels up for food and Bobby promised the chicken and veggie broth goes with any pasta.”

Eddie hopes he never gets used to the way Buck’s gestures make him feel. “Tortellini, he loves gnocchi so we can save that for when he’s feeling up to solids.”

Buck pulls out an index card from his back pocket, reading it carefully before crouching to pull out a pot, not having to hunt for long. Eddie feels like a sap thinking how at home Buck seems in his space already. They’re only a couple of weeks in, but Eddie can see the space Buck’s carving out as clearly as if his life had always had an opening there.

His phone buzzes, and he picks up, “hey May.”

“Any thoughts on coverage?” She asks easily, like it’s not annoying to have to reschedule seven hours of work with less than a day’s notice.

“I don’t think so– hopefully they’ll all want to rebook.”

Buck stands, pan clattering, and Eddie thinks of Chris dozing in the other room, “I can watch him.”

Eddie blinks, “what?”

“Is Buck there?” May sounds surprised, “he just got off work.”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers as Buck looks nervously at the counter in front of him, then back at Eddie.

“I can watch him. I– I know we haven’t hung out solo, but I can– if you need to be at work, I mean, I’m off tomorrow and my only plans were laundry which, uh, I could do here.” Buck looks hopeful, and Eddie truly doesn’t know what he did to deserve the man.

“Buck–” he exhales, “seriously?”

Buck nods, small little rapid movements like he’s assuring Eddie, “yeah! I can, uh– watch a movie with him if he’s up to it, make some toast– rice if he’s up for it.”

“Oh my god I can hear the face.” May says in Eddie’s ear, “Eddie, please say yes before he brings out the puppy eyes.”

Eddie feels breathless with the relief flooding through him, “yes! Yeah, of course, Buck. Chris’ll be pumped. Or, well, he’ll at least definitely be more happy then he currently is.”

“Glad to know I’m more fun than throwing up.” Buck teases as he blushes.

“Only a little bit.” Eddie throws back, “jury’s still out on your rank versus his shots and standardized testing.”

“SOUNDS GOOD!” May yells into the phone, bringing his attention back to their conversation.

“Sorry, May. Yeah, I’ll be in for my early shift tomorrow, but can you call my later appointment and see if they can move to when I usually head to grab Chris from school? I’d like to be done earlier if I could.”

“Will do. I’ll text you the confirmed times. Go be gross with Buck.” May hangs up without letting him get a reply in. 

He looks at the phone, then puts it on the counter so he can see when May responds. Buck’s busying himself washing vegetables, but Eddie can tell he’s nervous, probably thinks he’s overstepped. Eddie can’t let him feel that way, so he steps into the space behind him, hooking his chin over Buck’s shoulder, hands on Buck’s hips, voice steady in its sincerity, “thank you.”

Buck leans back into Eddie, “you don’t have to–”

Eddie clutches at Buck’s sides, speaking into the meat of Buck’s shoulder, “I want to, though. And last week you told me I should say what I want more often.”

“Using my own words against me.” Buck laughs softly and settles in Eddie’s arms, “but if this means you admit I’m right and I get held, then okay.”

Eddie squeezes a little, pressing his lips to the place where Buck’s neck meets his shirt, “you’re making me dinner and being the solution to all my problems tomorrow so this one time you can be right.”

The feeling of Buck laughing in his arms is perfect. His bulk is so solid but he’s so soft and pliant in Eddie’s arms.

“You’re so good to me, Buck.” Eddie murmurs against his skin, smile turning to a little knowing smirk when Buck makes a little noise at the praise.

“Stop distracting me– the broth needs to cook for at least a couple of hours, and every second now you spend being my super handsome backpack is a second you complain about being hungry later.”

Eddie squeezes tighter, nipping at Buck’s shoulder, appreciating the way it makes him suck air in, “don’t call me a backpack. ”

“Then prove you’re not and go sit on the counter and look hot so I have something to look at while chopping.”

“How is being treated like an object on the counter proving anything?” Eddie pulls away, “I don’t think you should be distracted while chopping, so maybe I should go do some laundry or something. It’s important to be fully focused on tasks with sharp tools.”

Buck points the chef knife in his direction, “and yet you survived while I was shirtless and writhing under the needle without a single missed line. So sit your ass down.”

Eddie sticks his nose up haughtily, grabbing a round of carrot and popping it in his mouth, “some of us can do superhuman things. It’s a gift.”

Buck’s laughter brightens up the kitchen and Eddie thinks he can see what the other man likes about the place.

~~~~~

Eddie pulls into the driveway just after seven. His back hurts from the position he had to remain in for the day, and his wrist is aching a little from the piece he’d thankfully finished his last session on. It was a dense and time consuming one with intricate fine crosshatching over his color blocking, and the guy had sat like a champ, but pulling such long lines always made his tendons ache.

The lights are on, windows looking warm and inviting. He knows Chris is bundled up on the couch watching Bill Nye the Science Guy because Buck had sent a photo half an hour ago, excited to report all the episodes from when they were kids are on some streaming service and that Chris had comfortably kept down two full slices of toast and a banana and had made noises about gnocchi sounding okay.

Eddie steps into a home that’s full of light and noise. Buck’s playing something in the kitchen, Bill Nye is talking about volcanoes on the TV, and Chris greets him with a big smile on his face and a “hi dad!”

“You look a lot better than this morning, mijo.” Eddie replies, moving towards him in his nest of pillows and blankets on the couch, “and a lot cozier.”

“Buck made me a den.” Christopher says like that explains it, and Eddie supposes it is, “and I’m feeling mostly okay now, haven’t thrown up all day.”

Eddie sends a prayer to the saint of anything that would be helpful that that stays true, because that means the last time Chris was sick was at four am, and he can go back to school in the morning. “That’s awesome. I heard you also introduced Buck to Finding Nemo?”

Chris nods, “he says he gets why I love it, and he doesn’t know why you’re sick of it.”

“Oh does he?” Eddie looks over to where Buck’s emerged from the kitchen, apron crossing his chest in a way that draws Eddie’s eyes to the breadth of his shoulders and down to his waist, then back up to narrow his eyes at Buck’s too innocent face, “how about we ask him once you’ve shown him it a hundred more times?”

“Dinner time!” Buck says, eyes wide with the threat in Eddie’s words.

Eddie looks down at the cocoon around his son, and immediately doesn’t want to disturb him, “you wanna eat in here, mijo?”

Chris looks up like Eddie just told him it was his birthday, “can I?”

“I made him a couple of dinosaur chicken nuggets and plain pan seared gnocchi.” Buck answers the question Eddie didn’t know he had, “so, shouldn’t be too messy.”

Eddie nods, “good.”

Buck smiles a little half smile, “I also made us some dino nuggets because why should he get all the yummy fun?”

Eddie looks at him, all the soft strength of him, the little bit of stubble he has on his jaw and the fuzziness of his curls because he doesn’t have any products in Eddie’s shower, and crosses over to pull him in for a kiss because he can’t not.

Buck smiles into the kiss, and when Eddie pulls back he raises his eyebrows, “dino nuggets really do it for you? I’d consider the outline of one somewhere fun if you draw it.”

Eddie kisses him again, just to shut him up.

~~~~~

The times when Eddie lets Christopher hang out in the shop are few and far between. It’s not exactly a kid-friendly environment– the vast majority of clients swear at least a couple times– but when he knows both his and Alex’s schedules are a little tight, or that they’re sketching for most of the day, he’ll let him hang out for an hour or so. May makes it easier, making sure he’s got headphones on just in case and bringing him snacks if Eddie’s occupied.

Today, however, has been kind of a shit show because Alex is at the doctor with June, and May has an exam, and Chris’s school has a random early release that Eddie feels like he got alerted to too late in the week.

Maybe he should start reading the Friday bulletins more closely, but he feels like something like that should be in the top paragraph not buried after the question and answer session with the school chef.

The problem is the piece Eddie’s working on is time consuming and emotional. A vet who lost their friends along with the better half of one arm, trying to make the remaining piece something that they can look at without feeling guilty for still being topside. 

any chance you can come by the shop and grab chris after lunch with maddie?

Eddie feels guilty for asking, because Buck hasn’t been spending as much time with his sister lately, mostly because he’s spent any time he has between shifts with Eddie. He wants Buck to have other people in his life, it’s just anytime Buck shows up he’s not going to turn him away, and Buck doesn’t tell him he’s turning down plans to make Eddie and Chris pancakes, he just learns about that later.

Buck’s response is immediate, we did brunch instead and she has a yoga class that i managed to avoid joining so im free already

Eddie feels like he can breathe easier every time Buck steps in, youre amazing.

Eddie’s finished making the stencil by the time Buck arrives, wrapping Chris up in a big hug and smacking a loud kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

“Warning: he has homework.” Eddie looks over at Chris, “no matter what he says. Science for sure, maybe also social studies.”

Buck smooths a thumb over Eddie’s eyebrow, ending at the bar. “On it.”

Eddie misses them both when they leave, but when Clint comes in he knows he made the right call– the guy’s like an exposed nerve, all fury and pain and loss. They talk for the whole time, and Eddie feels rubbed raw by it, like he pumiced away all his protective calluses, the sharpness of his own losses too close to the surface.

He gets home exhausted, later than he’d meant to, and with a headache from the tears he’s finally spilled in the car ride home because life really isn’t fucking fair. 

From the sound of it Buck’s in the shower, and when Eddie checks Christopher’s reading in bed, slowly making his way through some fantasy series Buck’s been listening to the audiobooks for to make sure they don’t get too gruesome.

“Hi dad.” Chris looks up at him, studying his face, “Buck said today was hard– so we made brownies for you.”

Eddie kind of wants to cry, but instead he just moves into the room, hugging his son tight to his chest, “love you.”

Chris nods against his sternum, “love you too.”

“Did you do your homework?” Eddie leans back once he’s got his face more under control.

The eye roll he gets in return is not appreciated, “yes– it’s on the table by my folder. Buck helped.”

Eddie smacks a noisy kiss to his son’s forehead and heads into the dining room, finding a pile of drawings. There’s two on top, one a kind of goofy heart with a smile that he knows Chris didn’t do– it doesn’t have his coloring style, and the other a pretty good representation of the pieces of a human heart. He smiles down at both, the two halves of his own heart torn from his body and right there on the papers in front of him.

He can smell Buck’s coconut curl conditioner and hear his barefoot but still surprisingly loud thumps as he comes into the room behind Eddie.

“Oh, uh– yeah, I didn’t read all the instructions before starting mine.” Buck laughs lightly, “Chris wants to show his teacher because it’s a good lesson about reading everything before you go.”

Eddie puts the two drawings on the table and turns, pulling Buck in, burying his nose into the side of Buck’s neck, bare skin still damp and warm from the shower. He’s so alive and it helps. It helps to just hold him and breathe and pretend like maybe the wetness on Buck’s skin is from his hair dripping down, not Eddie’s eyes.

~~~~~

Eddie doesn’t like being at conventions. He might say he hates them, but they have proven useful in the past and sometimes there’s new brands that give out samples that change how Eddie thinks about things like tattoo care or needle arrangement. They’re too busy and loud, but Alex is even worse than he is at talking to people without showing every thought on her face, so he’s always the one who has to go to meet other artists in case people want to collaborate or share new techniques. 

He does, however, like the fact that the shop is always full for the weeks after with people who saw his pieces on other artists, and that he gets new pieces himself in trade. He’s getting a new shin piece done after putting a whirlwind of color spiraling up the arm of the artist, and texting Buck occasional teasing glimpses because he’d been whining all morning that he doesn’t have any new art and that it’s not fair Eddie gets a piece.

Eddie doesn’t usually do all black ink, but he loves Iris’s use of negative space and natural forms– and Buck’s sent him about ten of her pieces he’s in love with too. She’d asked him for any inspiration, and he’d considered for a few days what he wanted, not even talking to Buck about it because he likes surprising his boyfriend when he can.

Buck had taken him on a date about a month into their relationship, the Zoo After Dark, cocktails and wine with a tour of exhibits that feature nocturnal animals. They’d walked into the butterfly enclosure and a lunar moth had fluttered over and landed on Buck’s shoulder, closing and opening its wings slowly like it didn’t mind using him as a perch.

He’d looked radiant, a living brooch on his chest, flush in his cheeks from a glass of cava and soft light of the enclosure around them. It had taken Eddie’s breath away, the beauty of him.

Buck hadn’t really noticed Eddie’s shock, just made sure Eddie took about thirty photos and then carefully oh so carefully had coaxed the moth onto a leaf, whispering calming words at it the whole time.

Eddie had looked up the meaning of the moth before telling the artist his choice, and the internet had confirmed for him that they meant rebirth and new beginnings. He doesn’t really believe in the symbolism stuff, but he’s given enough tattoos that turned out to have a second meaning the canvas didn’t consider that he’s learned to check before putting things on himself.

Eddie doesn’t believe in fate, probably would have chosen the moth as long as it didn’t mean something terrible, but he has to admit that Buck feels like a new beginning for him. Like a life he’s meant to have, so he’d sent the inspiration over to Iris without telling Buck about it. He hopes Buck gets it.

~~~~~

“Are you ever going to take off the bandage?” Buck whines, “I’ve been good I didn’t ask what it was even once .”

Eddie looks at him from where he’s pulling on his tank top.

“I didn’t ask even once after you said I couldn’t ask anymore.” Buck amends, grin on his face, eyes on Eddie’s torso, “I think the black tank is better for hiking.”

Eddie pulls off the green one he’s in before he can really register the input and Buck grins like he’s won something. Eddie rolls his eyes and turns away, but he knows Buck likes the back piece and his ass as a view too, so it’s not like he’s doing anything meaningful. He puts on the black anyway because Buck’s not wrong that the fabric is thinner.

He looks down at his shin, the black covering the piece. He’s usually more into clear Saniderm, but this piece feels like a declaration he hasn’t said yet, not out loud because they’ve only been together for a handful of months, and he didn’t want his skin to do it for him.

“Yeah, I should.” Eddie licks his lips, suddenly nervous for no reason. Buck’s said it more times than Eddie can count– whispered it into his skin and thrown it across the kitchen and shouted it from a Jeep window. Buck knows Eddie feels it– Eddie’s stuttered his way through explanations he can’t fully voice and Buck’s held him through them, its just felt too big too all encompassing– the last person he’d said it to had died in a hospital bed before Eddie had gotten there and Eddie knows that there is no correlation or causation there but sometimes in his nightmares they feel linked.

Buck stills, catching the nerves, “you don’t have to, if it’s personal–”

“It is, but– I mean, it is personal but you should see it.” Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, bringing his foot up, and uncovers the piece. 

Buck watches greedily, like every tiny inch of Eddie’s skin is a gift, and when the whole piece is revealed he sucks air in through his teeth, sighing out “Eddie.”

Eddie lets the art do a little bit of the talking for him, twisting his foot back and forth so Buck can see the luna moths against his skin. 

Buck kneels, hovering close, not touching but admiring, and Eddie feels like a piece in a museum. Buck makes him feel so special with just a look.

“I love you.” He exhales as he says the words, and they feel as natural on his tongue as the air in his lungs. Buck looks up, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, so happy that Eddie has to repeat himself, “I’m in love with you.”

“God, Eddie.” Buck presses forward into his space, pushing Eddie back down onto the bed with one hand on his sternum, “I love you so fucking much .”

They don’t make it to their hike that morning, but Eddie gets to hold Buck in his arms and whisper the words over and over again across his neck, and Buck is luminescent in his joy, soaking in the adoration, eyelashes fluttering every time like he’s the one who’s lucky to be there.

Chapter Text

Buck didn’t catch where they’re headed on the call. A driver is unresponsive after losing control and crashing into the front window of a store, pinning someone underneath their front wheel, a bystander at the scene is giving updates to dispatch while another person administers first aid.

The issue is he knows these streets. They’re close to Eddie’s shop, on the block of the cafe the shop frequents. He feels like a dog in a car, perking up and looking outside for Eddie. They stop and Buck jumps out, seeing the car halfway into the flower shop May sometimes gets an arrangement from so that the front of Tatuar looks welcoming and bright.

He swallows down a lump in his throat, because it wouldn’t be May trapped under the car, would it? She only heads over every few weeks and that would be such bad luck.

Chim and Hen are in front of him, moving in to assess, and Bobby’s yelling at him, “airbag, Buck!”

“On it, cap!”

He moves quickly, the tool that will raise the car up under his arm. Chim and Hen are bent over the person trapped under the car and the bystander who was helping is standing behind them, telling them something about what he’d been doing, and Buck would know that voice anywhere.

“Eddie!?” Buck shouts even as he moves into the wreckage of the shop, eyes scanning over him quickly, happy to see he just looks dirty– hands bloody but it’s clearly not his. He looks fine, which makes Buck’s look down because if Eddie’s here May could be too, but it’s not her on the ground and Buck should feel bad that that’s a relief. He looks back at Eddie, needing to check again that he’s unscathed.

Eddie smiles over at him, making a movement that means go work we’ll talk after and Buck focuses back in while Chim and Hen move the woman out from under the front wheel and into the ambulance. He feels Eddie’s presence even as Eddie moves out onto the street and he and Lucy get the driver out. His leg’s clearly broken so he’s in pain, plus he got knocked out on impact, so Lucy’s administering a concussion assessment while Chim and Hen work.

Buck looks over and Eddie’s talking to Bobby, who’s given him a few wipes for his hands. Eddie’s been to Bobby’s for a couple of dinners, and the last time Bobby had held Buck in the kitchen for a bit and put a warm hand on his arm, voice warm and affectionate, “I’m happy you found someone.”

The approval had made Buck blush til his ears went red and his birthmark darkened.

Chim sees Buck approaching to check in, “she’s lucky Eddie was there. He kept her calm, stopped the bleeding, she’ll be okay.”

Buck grins, “he’s good like that.”

“Yeah yeah, go say hi– we got this.” Chim waves him off and Hen nods in agreement. “Tell him I’m in for pick up this weekend if he’s still down a player but he better pick me this time– I’m sick of guarding him..”

Buck moves over to Eddie, and Bobby sees him approach, raising his eyebrow.

Buck looks at his captain and then his boyfriend, “just wanted to check this guy out.” He grins, “for injuries or whatever.”

Bobby rolls his eyes and walks away, “we’re out of here in two.”

“You got it!” Buck calls over his shoulder, never looking away from Eddie, “so, any bruises or cuts to report, Mr–”

Eddie smiles, putting his weight on one hip, “Diaz. And you are?”

“Firefighter Buckley, but you can call me Buck.” Buck winks, and he’s closer than is professional on a scene, but Eddie has a hair falling onto his forehead and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and he just saved a girl’s life so Buck isn’t exactly in charge of all his facilities. 

Eddie looks him up and down, slowly, gaze caught on Buck’s lips before returning to his eyes, “I think I’ll make it, but maybe I could follow up, just case anything needs your attention? Do you all do house calls?”

Buck grins, loving when Eddie plays back like this, “anytime, day or night. I’ll even kiss it and make it better, hot stuff.”

Eddie’s smile widens as he shakes his head in disbelief, voice full of mirth when he replies, “that’s terrible.”

Buck pouts, “was it hot stuff? Because we could pretend I never said hot stuff.”

Eddie is full on laughing, “go get in the truck. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay.” Buck looks around and notices there’s not really anyone watching him who might post online about the LAFD being unprofessional, so he leans in and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, “love you.”

Eddie leans into the contact like he always does, “love you too.”

“Buck!” Bobby calls out, and Buck starts moving, walking backwards so he can look at Eddie for a bit longer until he trips a little and has to turn.

He looks at the ambulance that’s headed out and is reminded that he had a message, so he waves and calls out, “Chim says yes to basketball!”

Eddie waves back, and Lucy punches Buck in the arm as he climbs up, “you two make me hate being single, assholes.”

Buck sticks out his tongue in response because Lucy’s been on some truly horrific dates in the last month but she also has the worst taste in people he’s ever seen so, so it’s definitely at least partially her fault.

Bobby calls over his shoulder, “behave you two!”

~~~~~

Buck doesn’t remember his grandparents. He’s younger by a pretty big margin with Maddie, which means his parents were older when they had him, and that meant his grandparents were all gone before he was ten. His mom’s dad was the last, and Buck remembers him from a couple of visits to Florida when he was young. He’d always been reserved, and his mom said it was because he’d been in the Navy. The connection had been one of the things he’d thought about when pulling back from joining the SEALs.

The point is, Maddie remembers cookies from his paternal grandparent side, there’s photos of her with them on the mantle back in Hershey, but neither of them had been alive for any of Buck’s memories.

Abuela, though. She’s so vibrant . Her home is full of warmth and music and art and the comforting smell of spices. Buck loves being there, the building itself feels a bit like it’s hugging him. 

Eddie dotes on her, and Buck loves getting to see them interact. Eddie bringing her tea, Isabel bringing out pastries when she sees them coming. Eddie dancing with her in the kitchen, some series of steps known to both of them in the fiber of their bones. The framed embroidery on her wall that was from her abuela’s wedding, a perfect match to the design on Eddie’s left arm, flowers and vines wrapping around Eddie’s skin like Isabel’s presence around them all.

She welcomes Buck with open arms, squeezing his cheek when he calls her ma’am and filling him with more rice and beans than he’s ever eaten in one sitting. She lets him help fix things around her house alongside Eddie until she learns Buck actually did some construction at some point and then he’s put in charge of things like hanging shelves while Eddie’s relegated to painting her walls with a stencil.

The first time she’d let Buck help her make anything for dinner he feels like he might faint because she’s a fantastic cook and Buck’s been working with Bobby for years at this point, but he still makes most things from store bought staples– canned beans, boxed pasta, and he knows she soaks the beans for hours in advance and makes her masa from scratch.

Thankfully she deems his dicing acceptable and agrees with him when he says he thinks the sauce needs salt, which feels like a blessing. The next time she tells him how much of each thing to throw into a pot– no real amounts, just handfuls and pinches and bits and cups (but a cup that hangs on a hook, not a measuring cup) and they both are reminded that his hands are much bigger than her when the soup’s intensity means it needs watering down.

She remembers little things, like his favorite of the pastries she puts out, and that he ate three helpings of her carnitas, and she makes it a point to show him Eddie’s favorite recipes when she can. 

Buck’s never had a grandmother, but she assures him he now has an abuela.

~~~~~

Buck feels like his skin is too tight. Like he’s going to move too fast or twist wrong and split it open. He’s used to dry air– the occasional punishing feeling at his joints, but this feels worse. It’s not the first time he’s ever had this itch, but it’s the worst it’s been in months. He can’t sit still, has driven Hen crazy at work by his pacing, Chim sniped at him on the way to the last call for the way his knees won’t stop bouncing, and even Lucy and Bobby have run out of suggestions for him to chill the fuck out.

He heads to his loft, feeling out of sorts with every passing block, just wanting to scrub his skin raw under the heat of his own shower and then collapse into bed.

He doesn’t sleep at the loft often, but Eddie and Chris are visiting El Paso for the weekend for his father’s birthday and Buck hadn’t been able to get both that weekend off and Thanksgiving. He opens his phone, checking for the millionth time to see if Eddie’s texted since breakfast. He hasn’t, which Buck knows isn’t a bad sign because Eddie had said they were doing some things with his parents and sisters and that means no phones because the Diazes require all of Eddie’s attention to deal with. Eddie’s last text that morning was short bets on how many comments about my tats and piercings i get today?

for ur sake wish i could guess a number lower than 40, but im not taking a loser bet. 75. Buck looks at the clock, it’s just past five which means six in Texas, so he sends a follow up hope i was wrong.

He steps into the bathroom to shower, stripping down with all the efficiency of someone who has to shower at work more than once a week, and his phone starts buzzing with an incoming call, screen of his phone lit up with a photo of Chris asleep on Eddie’s shoulder. 

Just the sight of it makes him feel like his skeleton is fitting into his muscles better.

“Hey babe,” Buck answers immediately because he’s never going to let Eddie go to voicemail if he gets a choice. 

There’s noise in the background, but it cuts off quickly like Eddie’s shutting a door, “hey Buck.”

His voice is sad, and Buck wants to wrap him in his arms, “hiding in the bathroom?”

“Yeah.” Eddie sighs, “I just– I get that I’m not who they thought they were raising, you know? I get that. They miss the kid who won every competition they put him in, who came back from war with a Silver Star. They can’t see– they won’t see me as anything but a deviation from their plan.”

Buck aches for him. “I’m so sorry that they’re missing out on how amazing you are.”

Eddie exhales, a quick sniff, “I think you’re biased.”

“You’re fucking right I am.” Buck sits on the toilet so he can focus on Eddie’s voice and not the ache in his whole body. “But you know who else is? Your son. Abuela. Pepa. Alex. June. May I think likes you more than me. Bobby keeps teaching me recipes he thinks you’ll like. Your parents…” he trails off because despite it all Eddie loves his parents, “they don’t know you. They knew you. And I’m sure the Eddie they see when they look at you was great but the one you are now? He’s the best person in my life.”

“God, Buck.” Eddie exhales, a little broken, “I wish you were here.”

“Me too.” Buck nods, because the fact that Eddie’s voice soothed him from hundreds of miles away hasn’t gone unnoticed, “I– Hen had to threaten to give me a sedative. I can’t– I don’t sleep when you’re not here. It’s been two days and I feel–” he shakes his head, “I should have taken the sick days. Maybe your mom would have been too distracted by my presence to needle away at you.”

“Maybe, but then what would we do if you caught one of the twenty bugs Chris has brought home this semester?” Eddie sighs, and Buck closes his eye so he can imagine he can feel it on his ear, “you could sleep in my bed, if it helps.”

Buck thinks about Eddie’s place, “it’s– it’s not the same when you’re not there, but after I pick you two up tomorrow I’ll stay over.”

Eddie hums because he gets it, “maybe– maybe when I get back we can talk about it being our place?”

Buck manages half an inhale before he’s gasping out an answer, “you say the word and I’ll break my lease.”

Eddie chuckles into his ear, “maybe we don’t have to wreck your credit– when’s yours up?”

“Three months.” Buck knows because he’s been putting off resigning, not wanting to lock himself into the space for another year when it’s felt less and less like home in the months he’s been with Eddie.

“Okay, gives us time to figure out how to combine all our stuff.” Eddie sounds like he’s smiling, and it makes Buck’s chest warm at the knowledge that he helped shift the man’s mood.

“I don’t need much–” Buck answers quickly because there’s no need for Eddie and Chris to upend their lives when he can fit himself in however they need.

“Nah, I want it to feel like our place, Buck.” Eddie says softly, like he knows exactly what Buck was thinking, “we’ll find ways.” 

There’s a knock on the door, and Eddie yells out, “one second! I gotta go, love you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you.” Buck replies. 

He hangs up and his skin feels like his own. He looks down at his bare thighs, at the ink Eddie embedded deep into his skin and that will out live him. He’d taken Chris to a museum last month and they’ve found tattoos on ancient mummies so the evidence of Eddie’s presence on his flesh could last for millenia.

~~~~~

“Can you grab the sangria?” Buck points his chin at the counter, where a glass pitcher of fruit and deep red wine is waiting, condensation gathering on the outside. 

Eddie nods, balancing the board Buck had fallen in love with at a market one day in one hand and the pitcher in the other. Not for the first time Buck finds himself grateful for his partner’s wrist strength and steadiness. He puts them on the table, out of reach of small hands, and starts to line up cheese slices. Buck trusts his artist’s eye for charcuterie patterns and veggie platters.

There’s a cooler of kid-friendly options against the wall, and Buck’s drinking a Capri Sun out of fondness, snagged as he moved to check on the baked dips and little appetizers. He’s trying not to go overboard, but it’s hard because he wants this to go well. It’s the first time Eddie and he have hosted something together in Eddie’s house that is now Eddie and Buck’s home, their belongings mingled together– Eddie’s nightstand next to Buck’s bed frame and mattress, Buck’s knives on Eddie’s knife block, both their incomplete sets of plates shuffled together like a deck of cards. 

He knows there’s nothing to worry about; Eddie’s met everyone in his life except his parents (who Buck isn’t sure count as in his life) and they all love him. Buck’s kind of worried Chim likes Eddie more than him, which isn’t cool because Buck was there first and Chim wouldn’t even have a wonderful partner if Buck hadn’t forced him to help Maddie move into her new place with him. And Buck’s met the majority of Eddie’s little groups– the shop, the pick up team, his local family, the flower shop employees that now bring him monthly bouquets for the shop as thanks for saving their boss– it’s just the groups haven’t met each other much, and this is the first time Buck’s ever done this with someone before. 

No one’s wanted to build something with him before. For a while he kept moving around, never willing to start something real, and then once he was settled people didn’t stick around long, no matter how much he clung. But Eddie’s been all in for longer than Buck even realized, only seeing it once he looked at the arc of the past six months. Nearly nine if he includes the time he spent getting Eddie’s art pierced into his body.

“Do you have strong opinions about where the olive stuff goes?” Eddie calls from the table, and it breaks Buck out of his thoughts.

“Tapenade. And no, as long as Maddie can avoid it– she’s not an olive fan.” He pulls out a bubbling hot bowl of queso, checking it for readiness.

Eddie’s quiet like a cat when he wants to be, but he’s learned his lesson about Buck and hot pans when Buck startled and narrowly avoided having to call 911 on himself, so he knocks on the doorway, “I still don’t really get how those salami roses work, but they look okay, so I think it’s as good as I can do. I also got some vases down, just in case some of the people from Bloom bring bouquets.”

“You mean when they bring their hero his tribute.” Buck teases, and Eddie blushes a little. “I think Bobby’s going to get us a plant– he asked weird questions about natural light.”

Eddie makes a face, “that’s your responsibility. I killed Alex’s cactus like a month after she brought it to the shop so June wouldn’t keep trying to face plant into it.”

“You killed– Eddie, you just leave them alone!” Buck pulls out the bottom tray of cheese twists, quickly transferring them to a wire rack to cool.

Eddie throws his hands up, “they have to get watered sometime ! And Alex was distracted with a toddler, so I thought I’d help.”

 Buck grins, and he knows his eyes have gone all dopey because Lucy’s called him on the look while texting Eddie and he can recognize the emotion at this point. Eddie must recognize it too because he moves closer, hand out to Buck so Buck can move away from the hot oven, pulling him in for a chaste kiss that deepens quickly.

“We have guests coming. Don’t start shit you don’t plan to finish.” Buck says when Eddie moves to press a kiss to the side of his throat.

“I didn’t ever have a house warming party.” Eddie says quietly, right against Buck’s pulse point, “not when Shannon and I found a house back in Texas, and definitely not when I moved here and lucked into this place.”

Buck forgets, sometimes, that Eddie’s new to all this too. He always feels a little more put together than Buck: kid, house, business, it’s easy to forget that Buck’s not alone in feeling overwhelmed sometimes.

“Well, then we better make it a rager.” Buck pulls back a little, “and step one is no boners and step two is no burnt pigs in a blanket.” 

“Those all the steps?” Eddie trails his hand over Buck’s forearm.

Buck nods, “yeah, I read a WikiHow article on housewarming parties.”

Eddie laughs, wide and surprised and so full of happiness that Buck feels proud of pulling it from him, even though Eddie points an accusatory finger his way, “the thing is I know you actually did.”

Buck is grateful when the doorbell rings so he doesn’t have to admit anything even though Eddie’s right and it’s actually a four part process with multiple steps in between that Buck is trying not to remember or even think too much about or else he’ll freak out.

This is their home now, and all Buck wants is to fill it with the same warmth Eddie and Chris have given freely since he met them.

~~~~~

Buck gets home from his shift later than he anticipated, the last call was a bitch to clean up from, and B shift couldn’t spell them out because they’d gotten called out almost immediately, so the whole crew had had to stay after making sure restocking happened so no one would be left in the lurch. It’s the middle of the day, which means he can collapse into bed until he goes and picks up Chris so Eddie can work on a bigger piece in one go instead of asking the client to break it up over two sessions.

Buck doesn’t know what the piece is, which always annoys him a little because he likes to think about Eddie’s art whenever he can, show it off to anyone who’ll look. He’d meant to ask the two nights ago when Eddie had gotten in around ten, but Chris had a bake sale so Buck had been making lemon poppyseed muffins and Eddie’d asked about him the recipe and he’d gone on a tangent about lemon extract, and then Eddie’d gone to bed because he’d had some early appointment, and Buck had been on school drop up before his twenty four.

It’s different, now, when he can’t see Eddie for a couple of days– he still misses him, but it’s not with the undertone of fear he’d had before Eddie. He knows Eddie’ll be there whenever Buck needs. It still sucks to not see him for nearly two days beyond a quick morning goodbye kiss, but with Buck grabbing Chris this afternoon Eddie can be home by five, and they can all do dinner and have a night together at home.

Buck face plants into the mattress, setting three alarms, one for an hour before he needs to leave, one for thirty minutes, and one for five minutes so there’s no chance for a repeat of the April Carpool Line Fiasco when he’d been about ten minutes late and no less than three teachers had looked at him disapprovingly because Chris had been waiting after all his classmates were already gone.

He sends a quick text to Eddie, im making rice and chicken for dinner. last chance to pick veggie or its my choice.

Eddie doesn’t reply, which is normal when he’s working, and Buck’ll see his response when he wakes up, even though he knows what Eddie’s going to say without having to ask because the last three times he’s asked for vegetable input he’d gotten the same reply.

Eddie’s reply is on his screen when Buck wakes up: green beans!

Thankfully Buck had bought a bag a couple of days before on his grocery trip and Chris kind of likes snapping off the ends so they can do a little prep together before Eddie gets home. He isn’t going to let Eddie get away with being boring though so he texts back predictable

:( is the spice in our relationship gone already? Eddie must be taking a break, or is giving the client time to breathe and rehydrate.

Buck sends back three fire emojis, dont worry. Still the hottest guy ive ever seen even if you only like green beans right now

Eddie replies with an embarrassingly outdated <3 and Buck can’t help but send one back because he’s gone for the guy and Eddie deserves to feel loved at any scale from tiny gestures to giant ones.

~~~~~

Buck thinks Eddie looked nervous all of dinner, but Chris had to update both of them on some playground drama that he clearly finds of highest interest and import, so Buck had focused in as best he could, nodding along while Eddie asked clarifying questions and Buck chimed in with remembered details to make sure Chris knows they listen to him.

He’s not going to let a kid feel unseen if he can help it. 

Chris heads off to read the next chapter of his book after dinner, turning down the offer of watching a show together, which means Buck puts BUY BOOK 3 on the whiteboard they have on the fridge door.

“We can just get it from the library–” Eddie puts up a token of a disagreement, but they both know Chris has been hoarding books like a dragon recently and Buck’s never going to say no to a trip to the independent bookstore that opened a couple of blocks from Tatuar last month and Buck desperately needs to stay in business so he can stop in and pick up a new book of inspiration images whenever he’s craving a new tattoo.

He doesn't have a thing he needs just yet, and if he allows himself to get something he just likes then he knows he’ll be covered in random flash in under a year, but he’s allowed to carefully tab the pages of art books and biology prints and historic maps of L.A. and flowers and woodblock prints of scientific discoveries and the shapes of dinosaur skeletons.

He’s caught Eddie thumbing through them too, head tilted in the way Buck knows means he’s thinking about how to capture the image in his own style.

They do the dishes together, Eddie still worrying at his lip whenever he thinks Buck isn’t looking. Buck is working on giving Eddie a little space to process when he needs it, so he gives Eddie the entire time they spend cleaning up from dinner.

“You can just say it.” Buck says quietly as he hands over the last pan to dry, “whatever’s on your mind.”

Eddie inhales a little abruptly, which means there is something bothering him and Buck doesn’t know what it is, “I–”

Buck’s mind starts running through what could be happening before Eddie can even really form any words, “is– was it your appointment yesterday? Are you okay?”

Eddie’s hand wrapping a loop of calm warmth around his wrist feels like tether, not a cuff. “Everything is fine. It wasn’t that kind of appointment.”

Buck frowns, “what was it then?”

Eddie tugs at his wrist, “come on.”

Buck follows because it’s Eddie and Eddie asked him to.

They make their way to the bedroom, and Buck can’t help but raise one eyebrow, “you lookin’ to distract me with some weeknight alone time , Eddie?”

Eddie tilts his head, a little flirty, a little challenging, “or something.”

Buck’s about to pout when Eddie lets go and pulls his shirt off, one smooth movement that still makes the world around Buck go fuzzy and his mouth go dry. There’s a flash of color over Eddie’s heart that wasn’t there when he was lying asleep next to Buck just a couple of nights before.

It’s a tattoo– brand new, just beginning to heal, a scab forming at one edge. The artist had mimicked the effect of colored pencil in the color, a smudgy lack of precision in the reds and blues– an anatomical heart diagram that Buck recognizes from a homework assignment weeks ago back when Chris was learning about organ systems in science.

The black lines over top he knows too, his own slightly lopsided heart that he’d been almost unwilling to hold up when Chris showed him his work, but the laugh he’d earned in response has been worth the mild embarrassment at his misunderstanding of the assignment.

He hadn’t known Eddie had even kept the drawings.

“Did– Eddie .” He can’t keep the sigh from his voice, feeling like his own chest is hollowed out, heart on display on Eddie’s skin.

Eddie looks down at his own chest, “I– you two have my heart, so I took the ones you made in return.”

Buck feels a little like he might faint, which would be mortifying so instead he bullies into Eddie’s space, reaching out and cupping Eddie’s jaw in both palms, not too rough because Eddie’s so precious . “How the fuck– you keep– one day I’m gonna be the one to do something big, I swear.”

Eddie nods into Buck’s hold, “okay. I’m running out of skin for declarations.”

Buck presses a kiss to Eddie’s lips, then pulls back, looking down at the piece again, “wait who did this? This isn’t Alex’s style at all.”

Eddie laughs, “jealous?”

Buck considers it, because he has been jealous in the past– greedy and needy and grasping for every morsel of attention he can get– “depends.”

Eddie’s eyes crinkle, “yeah?”

“How much did you talk about me?” Buck lets his drag slowly down the sides of Eddie’s neck, one tugging a little at the short hairs at the nape of his neck, making Eddie’s eyes close for a slow blink.

Eddie’s grin shows off the sharpness of his canines, “about you? Are we talking about this time or in the consultation?”

Buck forgot that Eddie must have chatted with the artist. Explained his vision. Showed the original art. He leaves one hand in Eddie’s hair, lets the other slowly trail down the bare side of Eddie’s chest, careful to never expose the new work to any infection even as he noses at Eddie’s ear. “Eddie, you know I want to know anytime you’re talking about me.”

Eddie does because one time Buck had whined like a needy puppy when Eddie had said his return client had asked about how Buck was doing after a little smoke inhalation incident and then blown him against the inside of the front door desperate from just the thought that Eddie’d talked about him enough for someone Buck had never met to check up on him.

“It was the visiting artist we’ve been hosting this week,” Eddie finally answered Buck’s question, and Buck licks a stripe of Eddie’s skin, “she’s German and doesn’t really speak much English and she still told me to shut up about you.”

Buck knows Eddie can feel the triumphant smile against his skin and he doesn’t feel bad about it for a moment because Eddie’s hands are pushing his shirt up while also grabbing at the muscle underneath, pulling him along again, “c’mon it’ll be easier to avoid infection if we do this in the shower.”

“Eddie you always have such good ideas.” Buck sheds the layer and gladly lets himself be led along.

~~~~~

Buck’s parked watching the clock tick forwards. He’d arrived so very much too early, nearly forty minutes, and he’s already called Maddie for morale and gotten texts that are all some variation on you got this from the whole one eighteen.

He has an appointment at eight. For a tattoo. Or, he hopes it’ll be a tattoo. It’s always possible it’ll be a consultation and conversation kind of meeting. He doesn’t think so– he’s pretty sure, but there’s always a little doubting voice in his head.

His phone buzzes, it’s May, he’s cleaning and in like 2 he’ll go to the back to get ready

Buck swallows, knowing that’s his cue. He climbs out of his Jeep, patting his pocket to make sure he has the sketch– carefully measured out and drafted a kind of obsessive number of times for how simple it is.

The little bell at the door of Tatuar isn’t new, but it wasn’t there the first time he walked in, so he still never really anticipates it. May smiles at him, looking calm, and Buck is so jealous .

Eddie steps out of the small back storage room, seeing Buck immediately, fond smile instantaneous. “Hey Buck.”

“Hey, I–”

Eddie’s phone buzzes, the reminder for an appointment, “oh, shit. I have a client any minute now–”

Buck puts his hands in his pockets to stop them from shaking, “it’s me.”

Eddie frowns in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“Your appointment?” Buck pushes his shoulders up to his ears, a little bashful, “it’s me.”

Eddie blinks, “why– wait.” He looks over at May, who is packing up as she often does when Eddie’s reached his last client, “I didn’t know Buck was on my schedule. I have something with a Freddie.”

Buck nods, pulling the attention back on himself, hearing the little bell again as May leaves them alone, feeling braver with every passing second, “I’m Freddie Fakeman.”

“You– huh, I should– the name didn’t really–” Eddie mumbles and Buck holds in a laugh, “but why? You know I’d always find a place for you if you want something.”

Buck nods, “yeah, but I didn’t want you to know– you’d have asked me too many questions about what I want and I wouldn’t have been able to lie.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, clocking that Buck’s nervous and May’s left, “what kind of a piece are we doing, Buck. You promised you were joking about getting ‘firehose’ above your dick.”

Buck laughs, tension leaving his neck, because Eddie makes him so happy . “Nothing like that.” He digs into his pocket, pulling out the small scrap of paper, four simple letters on it in black marker, holding it in his hand so Eddie can’t see it just yet. “Eddie– a year ago I was ten digits away from making a phone call that would have permanently changed the path I was on. I needed to do something to feel like I had some control over my own life and there was the window of this place. This big bright rectangle with Tatuar across the glass. A-and I decided to let myself make a choice.”

Eddie nods, eyes wide and soft, so Buck continues, stepping forward so that he’s close enough to reach forward and join their hands, but keeps his at his sides for the moment, “I think stepping in here was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You– you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You and Chris. Every dream I have for my future has the two of you in it.”

He reaches forward and passes the paper over, feeling the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, “i-if you’d be willing, I can’t imagine something I want more on me forever than this.” He holds his left hand out, dragging across the back of his finger with his other hand, “right here.”

Eddie looks at the folded paper in his hand, DIAZ in Buck’s neatest capitals, at the ring finger Buck’s pointing to. “Buck–”

“Oh, wait, Maddie said it was important I ask , you know? Even if I didn’t get a ring because I know you don’t like wearing something with the gloves every day.” Buck goes down on his good knee, putting a hand out into the space between them and holding Eddie’s hand that isn’t clutching the paper, “Eddie, I have everything I’ve ever wanted with you, and I promise if you’ll have me forever I’ll give you everything you want right back.”

Eddie’s eyes are watery, he nods, yanking Buck up as he answers, “of course I will.” He yanks Buck into a kiss, a firm press of lips, before pulling back and looking a every bit of Buck’s face. “Evan, you’re it for me. You’re the best choice I’ve ever made.”

Buck feels like his cheeks are going to split from how wide his smile is, “even though I’m asking you to put a name on me?”

Eddie looks at the paper in his hand like he can’t quite believe it’s real, “I tell people monthly never get someone’s name in a tattoo.”

Buck’d seen the conversation happen once, a guy begging Eddie to write his girl’s name across his chest so he could win her back.

“Buck, I– I tell them that because I don’t want to be the person who puts something impermanent on their skin in permanent ink.” Eddie’s thumb smooths across DIAZ, “but I’m not scared that’s what I’m doing here.”

Buck has to kiss the edge of Eddie’s smile, “me neither. Like you said, you’re it for me.”

Eddie turns his head a little, chasing Buck’s lips, crinkle of paper loud against Buck’s ear when Eddie moves his hand to the side of Buck’s head with the paper still clutched in his grip.

Buck loses track of time, lost in Eddie’s lips the heat of his mouth, the press of his tongue. He knows he’s flushed, eyes a little glassy and dazed because Eddie’s the best kisser he’s ever encountered; perfect mix of focused and passionate and teasing. 

“What are you waiting for?” Buck wiggles the fingers on his left hand, even as his right hand finds its way to the best ass in Los Angeles County, maybe all of California, pulling Eddie closer.

Eddie laughs against his cheek, “you not even going to let me sketch mine up before I get to work?”

Buck considers it, thinking about putting his hand in Eddie’s and seeing something on his ring finger to match Buck’s own. He hums in pleasure at the image, “what are you thinking?”

Eddie tsks against his temple, “nuh-uh, not after you got to surprise me, Mr. Fakeman.”

Buck shakes his head lightly, since Eddie’s still pressed into his hairline, “Diaz.”

There’s a growl in Eddie’s chest, an almost purr, “yeah?”

“Buckley did its job and got me to Buck.” Buck doesn’t want to think about tense dinners with his parents, the constant feeling like he can’t be enough, like his presence at the table is unwelcome. The absolute opposite of how he feels while surrounded by Chris and Eddie, who pull him closer and celebrate his presence.

Eddie squeezes him like he can hear Buck’s thoughts, “I can’t wait to marry you.” Buck leans into him, and they just stand there, wrapped in each other for a minute.

Eventually Buck pokes Eddie in the sternum, “go sketch– I’ve been thinking about having your name on me for weeks.”

Eddie moves, grabbing a light green sharpie and starts to sketch right on his own skin, two lines crossing like a knot, wrapped around Eddie’s finger like a ring. He stops after that, “that’s all you’re seeing. Now sit, so I can do yours.”

The sensation of Eddie writing his own last name into the front of Buck’s finger is intense. It’s not a painful forgiveness for missteps like the ribs were, or a cleansing fire like the kintsugi had been, or a promise to himself like the geometric work. It’s his hand on Eddie’s, his fingers slack in Eddie’s, a vow to a future Buck is committed to build. It’s a quick piece, four letters and a strip of red on the underside to complete the circle, but also because it makes Buck think of Christopher.

Buck can’t pull his eyes away from it as Eddie wraps it carefully in clear sticky film, eyes hungry for the reminder, and even when Eddie presses a Capri Sun into his hand he doesn’t look away from it.

Eddie put his name on Buck. He claimed him for all the world to see. People will know Eddie Diaz chose Buck to spend forever with.

While he’s looking at it, and then photographing it to send to Maddie, he doesn’t fully notice the buzz of the tattoo gun as Eddie does his own.

Buck finally looks over right as Eddie swipes the excess ink off his own skin, revealing the same twined set of lines broken by deep pink shapes on top. It takes a second for him to place the shapes– organic and random but familiar in a way nearly nothing else is. He sees the shapes every morning in the mirror, right above his eye, but these are inverted from how Eddie’s put them onto his own skin because Eddie looks at Buck head on, not in a reflection.

Buck puts his hand on top of Eddie’s– palm on his wrist, spreading his pinky out wide so he can see their two rings next to each other, “perfect.”

Eddie nods, looking at their hands, then at the side of Buck’s face, “love you.”

Buck turns, bringing his lips to Eddie’s, “never getting rid of me now.”

“Oh noooo.” Eddie says against Buck’s mouth, more just contact than a real kiss because Eddie’s smiling too much, “that’s terrible .”

Buck nods, “miserable. By the way, Chris is at Abuela’s tonight so unless you’ve changed your mind about fucking on this bench–”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “I work here. You wouldn’t fuck at the station.”

Buck pulls back and grins, “nah, but the ladder truck was fair game in my misspent youth.”

Eddie’s pupils dilate a little, “yeah?”

“I’ll tell you all about it later, but right now? I want to see if fiancé sex is different.”

Eddie laughs, “okay. I think Alex can forgive me–”

Buck jolts, “I forgot the other part of my gesture! Alex agreed to do your clean up shit tomorrow and May cleared your morning.”

Eddie looks awed again, like Buck is something special, and it makes Buck blush and rush to get Eddie moving, “fucking get in my car or I am making you reconsider work sex, and you get to explain to Alex what she’s cleaning up tomorrow morning.”

That gets Eddie moving, and he locks up as fast as he can, before dragging Buck back down for a kiss, dirty and hot, pressing Buck into the glass door, separating with a deep rumbling “let’s go Mr. Diaz.”

Eddie clicks off the light but Buck thinks they didn’t need it anyway with how much he’s glowing because he’s going to marry Eddie.

He wonders if Eddie’ll be willing to get a couples tattoo on the last day of their honeymoon so they won’t have to be careful except for traveling back.