Archive of Our Own

1.

Somehow, it happens at the same time.

You stumble, and the door opens. Your eyes are closed, curled into yourself, prepared for the fall, but it doesn’t happen.

Strong arms catch you.

“Oh!” you squeak out.

“Um…” an unfamiliar, deep voice hedges.

You blink your eyes open, seeing a handsome, dark haired man stare at you, confusion clearly painted on his face.

“Um. Buck’s just—gone to get more drinks. Something stronger than champagne,” you say. It’s obvious—you’re at Buck’s place. This man probably came looking for him, evidently looking for the man in question, and wholeheartedly confused at the sight of a you that’s almost naked, save for your undergarments.

“Are you… okay?” he asks. His eyes roam around the entryway, gently guiding you into the apartment so he can close the door.

That’s fair. You had been getting cold, goosebumps breaking out on your arms. You inch a little closer to him, trying to relish in the warmth radiating from his body. “Yep! We’re celebrating! Kinda. He should be back soon.”

“What are you kind of celebrating?” the stranger seems amused, echoing your words.

“My mom died. I feel bad for thinking she deserves it, and I also feel bad because I miss my mom. Parents are—they’re complicated.”

“Yeah, they—”

The door opens again.

“Eddie? I saw your car—”

“Buck!” you cheer.

“Buck,” Eddie greets.

You let out a loud gasp, interrupting them. “Wait, you’re Eddie?!” You turn back to the man who still has warm hands on your bare arms. You throw yourself against him, embracing him like you’re long-lost friends and not strangers who have just met five seconds ago. “Aw, you are as pretty as Buck says you are. How’s Chris?”

Eddie hesitates. “Chris is—”

“Oooookay.” Buck, face beginning to redden, scoops you away from Eddie. “Let’s get you in some clothes.”

“And more drinks.”

“Yeah, I got that too.”

“Thanks, Buck. You’re the best,” you say. You pad upstairs to his bedroom. Or, try to. Somehow, again, you trip.

“Whoa, okay—!” This time, Buck is the one that catches you before you face-plant onto the stairs.

“The stairs hate me,” you whine, sullen. Your mood’s tanked, a complete 180 from the joy you had expressed not five seconds ago.

“No. No, they don't, honey.”

“Yes, they do. They don’t want me. No one wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Buck cups your face, leaning down to face you. Even drunk, he doesn’t want you to entertain that possibility.

“Uh.” Eddie clears his throat.

When you both look up from your drunken pity party, you see Eddie holding out his jacket in your direction.

“Since the stairs hate you,” he offers.

You sniffle as Buck takes the jacket, wrapping it around your body. “Thank you,” you say wetly.

Eddie nods in acknowledgement.

“Thanks,” Buck says. He rubs your arms, then leads you to the couch, depositing you on it.

“Drink,” you call out in reminder.

“Yeah, I’ll get them.” He meets Eddie’s eyes, chin gesturing towards the kitchen.

They head off, and you promptly fall asleep on the couch.

2.

The second time you meet Eddie Diaz, you’re a little more clear-headed, though nursing a nauseating hangover. You groan before pasting on a smile. “Hi.”

“We’ve met,” Eddie says, thoroughly entertained by the turn of events. Not that he thinks you deserve what is sure to be a hangover of titanic proportions, but he’s tickled by your unlucky demise.

“So I’ve heard,” you say, scratching your nose in embarrassment. “Buck told me. Anyway, I promise, I’m a lot more composed than that. That was—humiliating. And I don’t really remember anything, so I do apologise if I said or did anything that might have offended you—”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t say anything.”

“At least there’s that.” You take a sip of your coffee, grimacing. You definitely need it to remain awake, but you’re sure it’s going to go through you in an unpleasant way.

“So, how’d you two meet?”

“Library,” you say. Both your gazes gravitate to Buck—he’s chatting to the cashier by the register, ordering food for the three of you. “I was working. He wanted some help on some parenting books,” you say absently.

“Oh,” Eddie says. There’s something swarming in his stomach at the thought of Buck in the library, lost, looking for books on how to raise a kid. For Chris.

You gasp, jolting in your seat.

Eddie startles, looking around the café wildly, uncertain of your reaction.

“I’m not supposed to tell you that,” you say, covering your mouth.

He visibly relaxes, sinking against his seat again. “No? He tell you to keep it a secret from me?”

“No. It’s library privacy policy. Patrons are entitled to privacy when it comes to their borrowing history. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

You nod, but your hand remains over your mouth. “Thank you.”

When Buck comes back, he sits beside you, one arm across the back of your chair. “They said it should only take another 20.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie reassures.

“But Chris—”

“Carla has him. And she’s sticking around for dinner if you two want to join.”

“I get to meet Chris?” you ask, uncertain. You didn’t think Eddie would be so willing to let strangers meet his son. Sure, you’re the partner of his best friend, but you’re essentially strangers. Hell, the first time you’ve met the guy, you were so drunk you didn’t remember. You think your behaviour screams irresponsible adult.

“Yeah. Any friend of Buck’s is a friend of Chris. He loves the guy.”

Buck ducks his head when you turn to look at him.

“You guys are so sweet,” you say.

Just as your food arrives, you feel your stomach gurgle. And not in the I’m starving way that you had been before you downed your coffee. It’s heavy, and you feel yourself begin to sweat.

“I… need to go,” you say quietly.

“What?” Buck furrows his brows, fork midway to his plate. “But the food just got here.”

“I know. You guys can have it. Or I can take it home. I just… I really need to go. I think it’s the hangover, I’m not really feeling well, and I—”

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Eddie pipes in.

When you look at him, there’s genuine concern on his face, like he’s afraid he overstepped.

“What? No, you—” you start.

“I know Chris is my kid, and he’s technically Buck’s too, but it doesn’t have to mean anything if you’re not—”

“No, oh my God, that’s not—”

“I promise, I didn’t mean—”

“Guys, I think—”

“I need to use the bathroom!” you interrupt. Your face is hot. Your stomach is twisting. You avoid looking at either of the two men. And anyone else at the cafe. Just in case you were louder than necessary. You can’t really tell—your head is pounding. “I think mixing coffee with the hangover isn’t agreeing with my stomach, so I really need to use the bathroom. For a while. I was trying to make a tactful exit. It’s got nothing to do with meeting Chris, but I would love to. I’m so sorry.” Then you scamper off to the bathroom.

3.

You’re sure he’s an incredibly kind man, but you never want to see Eddie Diaz again.

“Baby,” Buck coos, bundling you up. He drops onto your couch, you situated on top of him. He’s facing the muted TV screen, while your legs are sprawled atop the seat cushions. His hand rub your legs.

“Noooooo,” you bemoan. “Dinner can’t happen. I’m going to combust into flames if I see him again.”

“Well, it’s lucky we’re both firefighters,” Buck teases, kissing your cheek.

You groan even louder. “I can never show my face in public again.”

“That’s a shame. It’s a really pretty face.”

“We’ll have to be hermits for the rest of our lives. I’m not going back out there.”

Buck feels something flutter in his stomach at the mention of rest of our lives. “Yeah?” He clears his throat when it comes out hoarser than he'd like. “And rob the world of two pretty faces?”

You tuck your face into his neck. Lips against soft skin, kissing him; you feel him shiver against you. “My baby’s head is so, so big. We’re lucky you’ve got a good heart, and you’re not some weird narcissist with an ego and an ugly personality.”

“You can thank Maddie for that.”

You hum, not wanting to verbally disagree. You’re sure his sister did a great job raising Buck, but you know he’s who he is due to himself. Maybe Maddie planted the seed, but Buck watered and bloomed the flower in spite of everything.

“Eddie says it’s okay, you know. That you don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“Oh my God, you talked to him?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

You hadn’t seen him after you had run for the bathroom. When you were done in the cubicles, you stayed by the sinks, texting Buck, demanding that he send Eddie away with his share of the food before you came out again. And if Eddie hadn’t left, you would have stayed in the café’s bathroom until closing time.

Eddie, obviously, had other commitments with Chris, so left easily. No hard feelings, according to what Buck relayed.

But still. You’re mortified. You may not remember what happened the first time you met him, but you distinctly recall prancing around Buck’s apartment, practically naked, getting drunker and drunker as the night went on. If Eddie came after that, well. Wasted you is something you typically try to avoid, but finding out your mother had passed away brought up complicated and ugly feelings you would have rather forgotten.

“I don’t want you moping around by yourself.”

“I don’t mope.”

Buck says your name warningly. He’s serious, and he rarely is.

You sniff. You know his heart is in the right place. “Okay.”

Dinner passes without incident, surprisingly for you. Christopher Diaz in an angel that absolutely adores his father and worships Buck. Carla is a gorgeous soul that loves her boys so much. But not once do they make you feel like an outsider.

The adults are a little more tactful, but Chris tugging you over to the couch to play games to help “cheer you up” clues you into the real reason for the dinner. You know that Buck didn’t want you moping alone, but surmise that Buck managed to rope Eddie, Christopher, and Carla into this too.

But it’s fine. You look over Chris’ head, watching the three of them converse as they clean up the kitchen. And as if Buck notices your gaze, he looks up from the plate he’s clearing, sending you a smile.

You smile back, feeling warm.

A week later, and another one of Buck’s days off brings you grocery shopping with him. And Eddie. Running errands with Buck is a usual occurrence. Completing errands with your boyfriend and his best friend, however, is not. They’d been trying to re-sync their grocery runs for a while, apparently.

Buck presses a kiss to your forehead, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he trudges through the pantry aisle, leaving you with the other half of the list. And Eddie.

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “If I knew you were spending the day together, I wouldn’t have tried to do this with Buck.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure. “Though, it seems like this is your thing to do together, and I’m the one intruding.”

Eddie snorts, shaking his head. “Not sure I want to know what that means.”

“It means, Diaz, one of us is third-wheeling and I’m pretty sure it’s not you.”

“No, c’mon—”

He’s interrupted by your name being called out. You whirl towards the voice, seeing—

“Oh no,” you let out.

“What?”

“My ex.”

“Oh. Awkward.”

“Extremely.” This is not your regular grocery store. You’re here because this is the one that Buck likes going with Eddie. Your local haunt did not include your ex, which was partly why you had chosen it when you first moved away from him.

“Hey!” Your ex, Ben, looms over you, pulling you into a hug that you make no effort to return.

“Hey,” you greet flatly.

“Did you move again? I don’t remember ever seeing you around here.”

“Um, no. I’m grocery shopping with my—boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Ben’s gaze slides toward Eddie, who’s awkwardly hovering near you. Ben sticks his hand out. “Ben.”

You’re quickly realising your mistake.

Eddie shakes his offered hand. “Eddie.”

You turn your head to meet Eddie’s gaze, mouthing please. You just need him to go along with it. The last thing you want is for Ben to overstay the chance meeting any further. Especially if Buck is going to come back with his share of the shopping and you’ve not started on your half.

Eddie has a tight smile on his face as he lets go of Ben’s hand.

You surreptitiously inch closer to Eddie’s side, and his arm easily slings over your shoulders. You definitely owe him one.

“How’s your mom?” Ben asks.

“She’s dead.” You paste on a smile.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. I figured. You weren’t at the funeral.”

“I thought—I mean, no one told me,” he says, defensively.

“Yeah. That tends to happen when no one wants to tell you things.”

“Are you still mad at me?” Ben asks, like he’s the poor victim of a wrongful grudge; like you should have forgiven him by now.

You blink at him. “Uh—yeah, dude. That’s what happens when you sleep with someone’s mom.”

“Jesus,” Eddie mutters under his breath. His hand squeezes your shoulder. There’s a concerned furrow between his brows. Parents are complicated, you had said. There’s complicated, and then there’s this, he thinks. A ‘kind of celebration’ seems ill-fitting and apt, all at once.

Ben’s eyes narrow at Eddie, attention drawn onto him. It makes something in you flare up—Eddie doesn’t need it, but you want to protect him from Ben and what experience tells you can be sharp, harsh words. “How long have you been seeing him for? Is he why you didn’t return my calls?”

“Are you stu—serious? Are you serious?” you ask.

Eddie ducks his head, clearing his throat to cover what you think sounds suspiciously like a laugh. His face is smoothed out when he looks up at Ben. “Come on, dude. I’m pretty sure your calls haven’t been going through for a different reason.” Eddie wouldn’t blame you if you were either ignoring them, or had already blocked Ben’s number.

Ben scowls at him. “Butt out, Edward. Mind your fucking business.”

“It’s Eddie. And it is my business. I’m literally the boyfriend.”

You suck in a breath, covering up your reaction by stepping forward. Eddie’s hand grazes against your arm as the weight slides off. “I think you should leave us alone. I don’t really want to talk to you.”

“You and your grudges.” Ben rolls his eyes. “You don’t even like your mom. Even before all of that happened. But no—everything always happens to you, and you’re always the victim, and it’s always someone else’s fault.”

“Go to Hell, Ben.”

“What happened to needing me? What happened to being desperate for me? You used to be all over me—” He grabs your arm when you try to walk away from his tirade.

“Get off—”

“Back off.” Eddie wrenches the guy away from you, standing between you and Ben.

Your heart thuds in your chest.

Ben’s gaze flickers between Eddie, and you behind him. “Enjoy the sloppy seconds. You’ll get bored, sooner than later.”

Eddie reaches behind him, his hand taking a hold of your wrist, taking a step backwards towards you. “Go fuck yourself, actually.” Without waiting for a response, he marches you both through the aisles, wounding through them until you lose sight of Ben.

“Sorry,” you finally say. “Sorry about saying you were my boyfriend.”

There’s a beat of silence as he lets go of your wrist. You pretend to investigate the shelves.

“Does Buck know about him?” Eddie asks.

“That he’s here? Probably not. That I have an ex that slept with my mom? Yeah. That was a third date story. Lucky you for finding out now.”

“Seems like a piece of work.”

You snort. “Yeah. Eight months of him on his best behaviour, until I got comfortable enough to let him meet my parents. It was like a flip switched, and I had no idea who this new person was.”

“How long ago was that?”

Taking a bottle of condiment of the shelf, your eyes scan over the ingredients on the back. “Two years ago, maybe? Really did a number on my ability to trust in potential partners.”

“At least you met Buck.”

You smile. “Yeah. It helps that my competition just died.”

He chokes on a sharp bark of laughter. “Jesus.”

Silence lapse between you two again.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. It’s—yeah. I’m okay.”

“Did he hurt you?”

You look up at him, seeing concern in his eyes. You shake your head. “No. He—he was mean, sometimes, but he never got physical like that before.”

“That’s the first time?”

“Yeah. He’s—mad, probably. I don’t know. I was fine forgetting about him.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Hey, there you guys are.” Buck’s voice pops in. His basket jostles, one of his arms resting on Eddie’s shoulders. “Did you even look for anything?” He eyes both your empty baskets.

“We got distracted. Funny story, actually,” you say. “You remember Ben?”

Buck frowns. “The one that slept with your mom?”

You nod. “He’s here, by the way. I may have told him Eddie was my boyfriend to get away from him.”

The only response is Buck laughing.

“Stop that. Stop laughing.” You, yourself, are trying not to laugh, attempting indignation at the situation. Trying to find solidarity in Eddie proves futile. Eddie has his lips pressed together, looking everywhere but you and Buck.

You feign stomping away, but really, you just need to get the grocery shopping done and get out of here. Hopefully without ever seeing Ben again.

“You’re always in situations,” Buck says between chuckles. He easily catches up to you with long strides.

“Me? Says the firefighter that’s always in situations.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” you and Eddie say at the same time.

“Hah! See?” You share a fist bump with Eddie. “Situations. Eddie works with you and he still agrees with me.”

“That’s not fair.”

You look down at your list as Buck and Eddie continue bickering. Lettuce. Cucumbers. “Did you get the juice?” You start rifling through Buck’s basket.

“No, that was on yours.”

“Oh. It’s not written here, but I can get it.” You write out orange juice before you can forget.

“You’re in as many situations as I am, though,” Buck explains to Eddie. “We have the same calls.”

“I handle them better than you do,” Eddie says.

“He does,” you agree.

“You’re not even there,” Buck exclaims. How did he turn into the one being made fun of when it started with you?

“No, but I get enough texts about it.” You clear your throat, doing your best Buck impression. “Oh my God, Eddie lifted me up the wall today. The harness was so slack—he did all of the work. Some girls were flirting with Eddie and—”

“Ooookay!” Buck encircles his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your lips to silence you. He snatches the list from between your fingers. “I’m going to do the rest of the shopping. See you. Love you.” He kisses your cheek and runs off.

You turn to Eddie, still grinning. His cheeks are red. “I told you I was third-wheeling you guys.”

4.

Your hips move against his hand, his fingers buried inside you. Bitten off gasps as you curl forwards, your forehead against his shoulder.

Buck hums, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “There you go.”

“Buck,” you whine.

He shushes you, even though he shifts, fingers moving in the exact right way that hits your—

“Ah, Buck, yes yes, there.”

“There?”

Even though you can’t see his face, you’re so sure there’s that smug little smirk on his face.

“Oh, please,” you beg. Your arms encircle his broad shoulders, trying to give yourself more leverage to fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Please what, baby?”

“I want to feel you inside me.”

“I am inside you.”

You whine, shaking your head. “I need your cock. Please.”

“You will, sweetheart. Just want you to come on my fingers, first. Get you all nice and ready for me.”

You let out something between a moan and another noise of protest. He had been quick to realise you liked coming even before he even got his cock in you. And who was he to say no to that, even with your impatience?

“That’s it. I got you.”

You know you’re straddling the line, hips moving at their own pace. Buck uses his other hand to lift your head, lips against your neck, kissing, sucking. You moan, feeling yourself clench around his fingers.

“C’mon, beautiful. I know you want to. I know you’ve been thinking about me filling you up all day.”

“Ohhh, Buck, yes, please. Please please.”

“Just come for me first, baby. Then I’ll give you what you want.”

There’s a sound in your throat, high and reedy and you feel it build in your stomach. You reach down, providing additional stimulation.

Buck nips at your neck, and you moan, grinding down into both yours and his fingers.

“That’s it, baby.”

You clench tightly around his fingers as you come. “Buck, Buck, yes yes, yes, oh my God, I’m coming.”

“There you go. God, you’re so beautiful,” Buck murmurs against your neck, his fingers still pumping inside you. An arm secured around your waist, weighing you down into his fingers. Your hips rolling, drawing out your orgasm.

You whine, gasping. You’re not sure who moves first, but your lips are crushed together. Wet, open-mouthed kisses. Your arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. You’re boneless with his fingers crooked inside, repetitive motion of fingers curling back and forth, rubbing that spot inside you.

“Buck,” you whimper. You bite at his neck, your form of retaliation to how sensitive he’s making you feel.

“I got you,” he says, chuckling at your defiance. It’s cute.

“Need you. Please.”

Buck removes his fingers from inside you, and you blindly reach down to jerk his cock. Once, twice.

Buck moans into another kiss, feeling a small semblance of relief. He’s so desperate to be inside you. His hands on your waist, effortlessly lifting you. Your hand guiding his length to your opening, slick and warm.

A slow, tortuous slide. You’re both moaning again—it feels heavenly, to finally have him inside you. He bottoms out. You rest your forehead against his cheek, slowly rolling your hips against him.

“Baby.” Buck’s fingers dig into your skin.

You need him, you want him to leave imprints of himself across your flesh. “I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too.”

“Fuck me, Buck.”

And he does. Arms wrapped around your waist, holding you in place as he fucks up into your tight, warm heat. You’re gasping, breathless and so, so full of him. The only thing you can do is hold on.

Gasps, higher pitched noises released between you. He loves every one. He groans, low in his throat, forehead pressed against your shoulder.

“Hey, Buck—oh shit—”

“Eddie—!”

“Oh my—”

You didn’t even hear the door open. You instinctively turn towards the new voice—Eddie’s voice—but Buck’s hands grip your waist, rolling you both until your back meets the couch cushions. He’s looming over you, hiding you from view.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—!” Eddie immediately pivots, ducking behind the wall of the entryway.

You and Buck are left staring at each other with wide-eyes. He climbs off of you as you harmlessly slap at Buck’s shoulder.

“Oh my God, do you guys have keys to each other’s places?” you hiss.

“Well, yeah.” Buck scrambles to get his clothes on. “One minute, Eddie!” he calls out.

“No!” Eddie yells back. “It’s okay! It can wait until tomorrow!”

“Too late for that, buddy!” you pipe in. You pick up a shirt, slipping it on before finding your underwear. You tuck yourself under the lone blanket on the couch. Buck had suggested taking your activities upstairs. You, however… are now regretting not listening to him.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, again, loud enough for both of you to hear.

Buck presses a kiss to your forehead before he darts out from behind the floating stairs.

“I’m sorry, I should have called,” you hear Eddie say in a low voice.

Your head thumps against the couch.

You could suffocate yourself under the blanket. That would save you from the embarrassment. Excellent plan.

5.

“What are you doing here?” you frown, jaw clenching, swallowing thickly.

“The hospital called me,” your dad says. He hovers near the door, having only taken a couple steps into the room. He doesn’t come any nearer; always distant.

You drop your head into a nod. “Emergency contact.”

“You forgot to update it.”

“Yeah. I did.” But you don’t even know who it would have been updated to. Your only other family is your father, even if he lives out of state.

The way he looks at you radiates disapproval.

“I didn’t end up here on purpose.” This time goes unspoken. You recall a previous hospital visitation from him in your teenage years, your mother oscillating between crying and screaming at you for your stupidity. How could you do this to me? You ungrateful child.

Your dad looks at you, weighing the world against what he sees. “I can’t tell with you, sometimes.”

Your eyes well with tears. You wonder what he sees. If he sees the same thing you do when you wake every morning, maybe that explains why he’s constantly disappointed.

You look away, staring at the blanket. “The doctors said I’ll be good to go tomorrow morning.”

“Good. I need to get back home. I travelled far to get here, you know?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“And you need to be more careful. Your mother is gone, now.”

“I know.”

“She wouldn’t like seeing you this way.”

“She wouldn’t care.”

And he doesn’t dispute it.

You let out a shuddering breath the same time the door closes behind him as he leaves. You lean into the pillows behind you, your good hand shakily covering your face as you cry.

You’re alone.

Tomorrow morning comes, and you’re released by the hospital. They sent you away with a sling for your fractured clavicle, and some ointment and additional dressing for the small burns on your side.

You know Buck’s a phone call away.

He’s triple texted you, and had attempted to call you once during the time of the incident, and another time whilst you were in the hospital. He still doesn’t know what happened. You hadn’t had a chance to call him, and no one else knew he existed in your life.

The phone’s pressed to your ear, the dial tone ringing.

“Hey.” He picks up after the third ring, voice breathless. “Are you okay? You disappeared.” There’s something cautious in his tone. You know you put it there.

Your last text to him was yesterday at the start of your lunch break. It wasn’t even a text—you laugh reacted to something that he had sent in the morning, intending to reply after getting your food. For all intents and purposes, you’ve ghosted him for 22 hours. You feel something in your chest squeeze.

“Can you come over? Or—or I can come over?”

“Are you okay?” he asks again, because you’re avoiding his question.

“I—no.” You suck in a breath. “Yes. Yes and no. There was a fire at work. I think the 133 got to us.”

“What? What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m at home. I just—I don’t know know if I want to be alone. My dad came by, in the hospital. He’s my emergency contact, so he’s the only person that knows what happened, and I just—”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll be there. Just sit tight.”

It simultaneously feels like the longest and shortest wait time. The drive between you isn’t a long one. Especially out of peak hour traffic, which it is, given that it’s almost 10 in the morning.

When you open the door, Buck cups your face between his palms, fingers ghosting over the bruises on your face. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you croak out. You tuck yourself against his chest, and his arms gingerly wrap around you. He’s scared to hurt you.

“I got you.” And it sounds like a promise.

You get deposited on the couch, and Buck tries not to, you know he tries not to, but he can’t help but hover. He’s essentially waiting on you, hand and foot.

“Babe,” you say, slotting a palm against his cheek. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I want to.”

“I know. But you don’t need to. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t hear from you,” he whispers, a soft confession.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I just… I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if you were…”

“Running away?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m right here.” You place your head against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sometime later, he asks if Eddie can come by. “Chris is doing dinner with friends, apparently. Eddie wanted to hang but if we’re here, then maybe he can come here instead.”

This wouldn’t be the first time Eddie visited your apartment. Or Chris. Since the grocery store incident, you’ve started hanging out as the weeks went on. Most of the time, it’s the three of you. Buck, somehow, and yet predictably, doesn’t know how to separate his time off between his best friend and partner.

Grocery shopping remains a Buck and Eddie adventure, since you didn’t want to risk running into Ben. But you still did other things—lazy movie nights, pizza parties, board games; one accidental sleepover at Eddie’s place. The crick in your neck told you that couch was not made for two people to fall asleep on.

You find your social circle is incredibly small outside of coworkers and work acquaintances. The camaraderie at your work doesn’t quite hold a flame to the bonds between the 118, but that doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy the occasional outing.

“Yeah. Two birds, one stone. I don’t want you to use your day off to babysit me.”

“Hey, no, I’m not babysitting. I would have wanted to be with you, anyway.” He crowds into your space, kissing your forehead. “Okay?”

“You’re sweet.”

Buck hums before he pecks your lips. “I’ll do dinner for you guys.”

“Check the fridge. You might need to buy extra stuff.”

“Alright. I’ll handle it. You sit here and look pretty. Hey, look, you’re doing great already.”

You can’t help the grin, pulling him in for another kiss. “Says the pretty boy.”

“We can both be pretty. Okay—when Eddie gets here, you stay. I’ll get the door.”

“But—”

“You. Stay.” He takes the remote from the coffee table and places it in your hand.

You drop it onto your lap and flip him off. You hear his delighted laughter in response as he busies himself.

Eddie gets here late afternoon, after he drops off Chris with his friends for dinner. True to Buck’s words, you remain on the couch as he gets the door.

You hear them murmur out greetings before Eddie walks over. He squeezes your good shoulder, depositing himself next to you. “You feeling okay?”

“Getting restless.” You hand the remote over to Eddie, setting down the book that you started reading after deciding that you were losing interest in staring at a screen for a few hours.

“Collarbone?”

“Mm. And a few burns. Racking up the scars count.”

“Might be catching up to us.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“I just want to say—if I was a betting man, I would be winning,” Eddie whispers, conspiratorially.

“What?” You perk up. It sounds like gossip—Buck gossip, to be specific.

“He just got a bit mopey about you suddenly ghosting him. I, of course, had your back. Said you wouldn’t do that to him. Something probably happened to keep you away. I was thinking work related, though, not ‘get yourself into hospital’ related.”

“Aw, Eddie. That’s—thank you for not thinking I’m the worst person in the world.”

“Hey. It’s my job to keep him in check for you.”

You lounge on on the couch for until Buck remembers that they need to change your dressing.

“Bath first, and then we’ll get it changed.” He inspects it, lifting up your shirt. Specks of blood and pus seep through. It’s still sore.

Despite your protests that you have working legs (you have a limp. It’s not terrible—you’ve sprained your ankle before), they get you to the bathroom. Your bedroom sits opposite it.

Eddie walks in first, perched on the edge of the tub. He turns the taps on, waiting for the tub to fill. “C’mon. Get your clothes off and get in the bathtub.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Are you propositioning me, Diaz?” Deflection. You’ve learned its the 118’s greatest tactic against traumatic, life-altering events. “While my boyfriend’s in the other room?”

“No—”

“Yes,” Buck calls out. He hovers by the entryway to the bathroom, arms full of laundry he rummaged through your room for. Apparently, you can’t do them yourself. “If it gets you in the tub and cleaned up, then yes. Eddie has my permission to do what he needs.”

You roll your eyes, but it carries no heat. “Fuck you, Buckley.”

“In six to 12 weeks. When you’re recovered.” That Goddamn impish grin takes over his face.

A beat. “You asked my doctor?!”

“So did you.”

“You freak.”

“You like it.”

“Guys.” Eddie clears his throat, busying himself with the taps. He feels warm. It’s probably the steam curling up from the water. And definitely not because he’s thinking about that time he accidentally walked into Buck’s loft when you two were on the couch. Doing… Nope, no sir. He’s not going there today.

“Sorry,” you say, biting down on the smile that seems to take over your face every time you see Buck smile like that.

“Bathtub,” Buck says, and his tone brooks no arguments. Again, his voice is unusually serious and you find that you can never really disagree when he’s in this mood. Maybe he’s picked up on it, and he’s doing it purposefully just to watch you fold. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“I can do it myself. You don’t—thank you, but you don’t really need to be in here, Eddie.” You turn to where Eddie’s perched on the edge of the tub, turning the taps off.

Eddie’s gaze flits from you, to Buck.

You follow his attention, and see the tail end of a nod.

“Fine,” Eddie relents.

“Are you serious?” you demand, gobsmacked. Your eyes are darting between Buck and Eddie. “Why are you acting like he’s the boss of me? You don’t need to check with him to see if I can take a bath by myself—”

“We’re just worried about you.” Buck tries to calm you down.

“Oh, like the both of you’ve never done something this before?”

“That’s why we know you’re being incredibly stubborn when you don’t need to be.”

“We’re going to be outside,” Eddie interjects, before it can turn into another childish bickering match. To be fair, he finds it wholly entertaining, but he came here to help. You quarrelling with each other isn’t helping. “And periodically checking in on you.”

You let out a weighted sigh, while maintaining eye contact with Eddie. Then very obviously roll your eyes, just to let him know of your displeasure. “Fine.”

Eddie shakes his head exasperatedly, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face.

Without further prompting, you unbutton your pants with one hand.

“Oop—that’s my cue.” Eddie pivots on his feet and beelines for the door immediately.

Buck drapes a fresh towel on the towel rack. “We’re right outside, okay?” And his voice is softer. Quieter.

“Okay.”

“Let us know if you need help.” His blue eyes are imploring as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Please.”

“Okay.” Your resistance deflates, thumping your head against his chest. He’s worried. He has every right to be, you think. If the roles were reversed, you’d want to do the same for him.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, with three check-ins from them, you’re done. It was like clockwork, and of course it was, because Eddie has a military background. It’s in the name that he’s militant about this kind of stuff.

“Buck, can you change my dressing?” You wander into the kitchen where you can smell him cooking.

He turns from where he’s stationed at the stove. “Eddie, can you take over?”

Eddie, who’s sitting at the counter space on his phone, looks up. “Uh—for the cooking?”

“No, don’t touch my cooking. For the dressing, Mr Medic.”

“Yeah, I can do that. C’mere.”

You draw closer to where he’s sitting, holding out the bag that you had been given on release, the ointment and dressing in there. When he takes it from you, you use your free hand to lift up your shirt. It sucks that you broke your clavicle on your dominant side. You think about trying to eat; you’d probably make a mess.

“Does it hurt?” Eddie asks, focused as he works.

“Kind of. Probably a four out of ten. Was at seven, before.”

“That’s good that it’s gone down. But you know it usually means you’re probably at a five or six?”

“But I said four.”

“People tend to downplay the pain chart.”

“Because it doesn’t really make sense. I don’t have a reference point for a 10.”

Quiet settles between you, and you focus on breathing, staring at a singular point on the wall as Eddie works. You can hear Buck clattering in the kitchen, and something soothes inside. You’re usually alone, but at this moment—right now, you’re not.

“Alright,” Eddie says. “Done.”

You lower your shirt. “Wow. You’re good at that.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Insane idea, but have you considered becoming a medic for the LAFD?”

Buck laughs from the stove.

“Funny. Real funny. I didn’t know you were dating a comedian, Buck,” Eddie says, shaking his head good-naturedly.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? One of the best.” Buck sounds smug. And happy.

“Thanks,” you say softly, and Eddie nods at you in response.

“Food’s ready.” Buck carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders, and one hand on Eddie’s where he’s sitting down.

“I can set up.” Eddie tries to rise from the chair.

“No,” you say, stopping him. “You’re a guest. My mom will probably haunt me if she found out I let guests do anything in my house.”

“Hey,” Buck interjects. “I’m a guest.”

“Eh. Debatable, darling.”

“See if I ever cook for you again.”

“You will. He will,” Eddie says. “It’s the same at mine.”

“How come I’m always exempt from the house guest rule?” Still, he ushers you away when you try to get the utensils from the drawers.

“It’s what you get for being a token white man,” you say.

Eddie snorts out a laugh while Buck lets out a faux wounded noise.

You open the fridge, getting the jug of water.

“Oh, hey, let me get that.”

“I still have one good working arm. And I’m not weak.”

“Of course not.” Eddie takes the jug from you anyway.

Buck pulls out a chair. “Sit,” he says pointedly to you.

“Yeah, yeah.”

After dinner and your painkillers, you’re knocked out on the couch. The painkillers probably made you drowsy. You wake to Buck crouching in front of you, gently stroking your hair as you get your bearings.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You make a sleepy noise.

Buck thinks it’s adorable. “It’s getting late. We should go.”

You’re about to ask him to stay, but it registers—we, he said. And if Buck is in front of you. Then.

You jerk up. “Sorry—” You let out a sharp hiss as pain shoots through your side and collarbone.

“Whoa, hey—”

“Careful—”

Eddie. You fell asleep on Eddie. Your head was in his lap. You let out a groan as both Eddie and Buck help you sit up. Eddie repositions your sling as Buck checks the dressing.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“You needed it,” is all Eddie says.

Buck checks your ankle as well. “Alright. See you in 24 hours.”

Eddie gently pats your shoulder before he gets up. “See you. Look after yourself.”

“Bye, Eddie,” both you and Buck chorus.

Buck takes Eddie’s spot, letting you lean against him.

“You can’t stay?” you whisper, even though you know the answer.

“My stuff’s at home, baby. I’ll bring some over after my shift. That way I can stay next time.”

You snuggle against him, his lips pressed to your temple.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

+1.

There’s an investigation into the fire.

While the library you work in isn’t some historical archive, it’s still a public one, which means that the cause of the fire needs to be investigated, for arson or safety purposes.

Which also means you’re on leave. The library’s closed; some of your coworkers are shunted into different branches, but you’re not allowed back to work due to your injuries.

You text a series of complaintive, crass emojis to your group chat of coworkers. You’ve just left the police station where they were conducting basic questioning regarding the intentions behind the fire. You’ve told them what you know—you have no idea what started it; you assume it was accidental or some kind of mishap. You didn’t see anyone suspicious lurking around the library prior to it, though you were tied up with various programs most of the day.

While the cameras were burned during the fire, some memory cards were recovered and could verify your alibi. The police are just doing their jobs, and because it’s a public library, it has to be an extensive job.

“You didn’t have to pick me up.” Even so, you pull Eddie into a one-armed hug.

“I know.” He pats your back, stepping away to open his car door.

You can’t prove it, but you think Buck has put both himself and Eddie on babysitting duties since you got injured. You know that Buck put it onto himself to do so when your mother had passed away. And he only released himself from those duties when he believed that you were fine during the weeks that followed. But the babysitting tendencies resurfaced after you had gotten hurt after the library fire.

You grumble as you get into the car, clicking the seatbelt into place. “What were you going to do if I had driven myself here?”

“Buck said you didn’t.” Eddie starts driving—you’re not sure if it’ll be Buck’s, his, or your place. Again, you’re victim to their babysitting roster when they’re not working their gruelling 24 hours shifts.

“Don’t you want to be spending your days off doing something else? Maybe spend it with Chris?”

“It’s 10 o’clock on a Wednesday morning. Chris is at school.”

“Still. There’s better things you could be doing.”

“I’m hanging out with friends.”

“Cute. That’s real cute, Edmundo.”

“Hey,” Eddie says, offended. “We are friends.”

“I know. But you also have other friends.”

“They aren’t injured at the moment.”

“Wow, thank you so much for your generous charity.”

“You’re most welcome,” he drawls in an exaggerated Southern accent.

“10 more weeks of this bullshit.”

Eddie laughs. “You know it, sweetheart.”

And that was a thing too. When you got comfortable with the banter, the nicknames—pet names—came out. Eddie favoured any variation of ‘sweetheart’. It happened a few times in front of Buck, and your boyfriend seemed so unperturbed by it, that you assumed that Eddie’s terms of endearments were a regular occurrence among friends. You’re still unable to figure out which one Eddie uses for Buck, though.

Yours was an albeit sarcastic ‘babe’, and you felt like you were channelling Chappell Roan’s ‘Good Luck, Babe’ whenever you said it. You assume the “No, babe”, or “Don’t be stupid, babe” speaks for itself. Especially when Eddie rolls his eyes, or sneers half-heartedly in response.

It’s… weird isn’t the word, but it’s a little strange. You haven’t even begun to broach the topic with Buck, but a part of you feels like there’s no topic to broach. You’re a little heavy-handed with the terms of endearments when you deal with people in the library, strangers and coworkers alike, so it’s not like the names have to mean something.

The only reason it would mean anything, is if you allow it to. And you won’t. Because Eddie’s your friend. Who you only know through Buck, because they’re best friends and work partners.

“You know I have an apartment, right?” Regardless, you unbuckle your seatbelt when Eddie parks himself outside of Buck’s apartment building.

“I know. I’ve been there.”

You both head up to Buck’s floor. “I’m starting to think you guys forget I live there, considering how often I’m anywhere but there.”

“You’re there when we’re working.”

You hum. “Because I live there. I should be there almost everyday, especially since I’m not working.”

The door opens before either you or Eddie can knock on it.

“Hi!” Buck’s giant frame dwarfs you and Eddie into a hug.

“Hi, Buck.” Eddie pats his back before he ducks under his arm, heading inside.

Buck presses a kiss to your forehead. “Any trouble?”

“Nope.” You kiss his cheek. Then his lips. “Just routine questioning, I think. Never really been questioned by the police before.” You follow him inside, closing the door behind you.

“It’s just procedure.”

“Seems like it. Hopefully it won’t take too long to get the library back up.”

“Hey, get your fingers out of there!” Buck marches towards the kitchen, batting Eddie’s hand away from a still steaming dish.

“It smells nice, Buck,” Eddie says, but he backs away from the counter.

“I know. It’s lunch. We’ll eat it later.”

“I can’t stay for long.”

“That’s fine. That’s what dinner is for.”

“Did you make dinner already?” you ask.

“Dinner at mine,” Eddie supplies.

“Aw, cute. You guys have fun.”

Buck’s face twists into a frown.

“You’re coming,” they both say.

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes,” Eddie says.

“Duh,” Buck scoffs.

“That’s so nice to know that you’re both making decisions for me, without my input.”

“Well, what else are you going to do?” Eddie asks.

“Anything else that isn’t third-wheeling my boyfriend and his best friend.”

“You won’t be third-wheeling,” Buck says.

“Chris is going to be there,” Eddie adds.

“Oh, you should’ve said that earlier. Of course I’ll come.”

Eddie shoots you a wry look. “You are unbelievable.”

“I get it,” Buck says, conspiratorially. “Sometimes Chris is better company than Eddie. Especially when I have to deal with him at work.”

“Only sometimes?” you ask.

“Hey,” Eddie interferes. “I drive you here—” He points at you, “to your place—” His finger moves to Buck, “and this is the thanks I get?”

“I didn’t even ask you to, babe. I was perfectly fine going home on my own, but noooo, apparently you two decided what my lunch and dinner plans are.”

Buck shares a look with Eddie. “It’s a good plan.”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugs. “It is.”

You flip them both off, ignoring their cackles.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you whisper, sneaking a small chocolate bar to Chris under the table. You pretend you’re stretching your neck, ensuring that Eddie is too involved in his conversation with Buck to notice.

Chris giggles, fingers closing around the wrapped chocolate. “Thank you.”

You put a finger vertically to your lips, winking at him as you go about clearing the table.

You hear Eddie call your name.

“What?” you say—maybe a bit too quickly. You look at him.

Buck thinks you look like a deer caught in headlights. It’s cute.

“You know you’re not supposed to do that.” Eddie walks into the kitchen, tutting.

“Do what?”

“House guest rules,” Eddie says. “No chores.”

“Oh, this? It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hand them over.” Without waiting for you, Eddie takes the plate that you had grabbed, intending to take them over to the sink. He starts on the dishes while Buck helps with clearing the table. Buck, apparently, is still exempt from the house guest rule.

You meet Chris’ eyes, breathing out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

Chris laughs again, and you try to get him to shush. It’s a futile attempt.

“What? What’s with the giggles?” Eddie wags a finger between you two. “Buck and Chris, I can handle, but you two? I don’t like it at all.” Despite his words, he’s very obviously trying to stave off a smile.

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

Chris and you, unfortunately, both chorus at the same time. Which ultimately makes Eddie more suspicious.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I think it’s time we get some games going, Chris,” you say.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Chris gets up from the table, having already pocketed the chocolate bar you gave him.

“You’re not getting away that easy,” Eddie warns.

“No one’s getting away. Why would anyone want to do that? Only suspicious people want to get away. And we’re not suspicious. At all.”

“Spoken like a totally innocent person,” Buck says, raising an eyebrow at you sceptically.

You palm another bar of chocolate into his hand.

“Yeah, actually, totally innocent,” Buck dismisses; you give him a sweet smile in return, blowing a kiss at him. “Yep, nothing to see here, Eddie.”

“Is that—was that chocolate? Did you give Chris chocolate?” Eddie asks.

“Scatter! We’ve been made!” you yell.

Chris laughs as he clambers out of the kitchen. You throw a quick wave over your shoulder as you follow him out.

“Just the one!” Eddie calls out after the two of you.

“Okay,” Chris agrees.

You share a high five with Chris, giving him a controller as you turn on the console.

You feel something prickle the back of your neck. It’s—stupid, how cliche it sounds, but it definitely feel likes someone’s watching you. That’s someone’s been watching you, and you’re not sure how long ago it was.

It doesn’t matter if you’re alone, or you’re with someone else, there are times when it feels like the eyes won’t stray.

“You okay?”

You hum, nodding the dispel the worry that your coworker shows. Your injuries are well enough that you’re able to work in another branch. Your other library is still rebuilding—you’re sure there’s some red tape that makes the progress glacial. Never mind the fact that it’s still an active investigation. A dwindling one, you assume, but it still remains active.

“Just… hurts a little.” You gesture to your collarbone with your uninjured side. After the six weeks mark, you were allowed to ditch the sling, but still had to be careful of moving too much.

The hurt isn’t a lie, per se, but it’s something that you’ve grown accustomed to. It doesn’t bother you anymore. The tenderness to your side has almost disappeared; you can walk without limping.

“Do you need painkillers?” They gently rub your back, wincing in sympathy.

“No—not at the moment. If it gets any worse, I might take something after my lunch.”

“Good. I think they just restocked the first aid kit, so there’ll be something in there. But if there isn’t, I have some in my bag.”

“Thank you.”

They blow you a kiss before waving their fingers, walking away from the desk.

The end of your day brings you to your car, and again—that feeling never wavers. You hop in your car and instinctively call Buck, your phone mounted and connected through Bluetooth. You ensure your doors are locked before you start driving out of the carpark.

“Hey, baby,” Buck says softly. The camera jostles as he moves his phone so its supported.

“Hey. Just finished work. Getting myself home, now.”

“Wish I was there.”

You wrinkle your nose. “No, you don’t. You love working.”

“I do. But I also want to hang out with my favourite person.”

At a red light, you glance over to your phone screen. You see Eddie walk by behind where Buck has stationed himself. “You already are. Tell Eddie I said hi.”

You hear Buck yell your greetings, and after a second, Eddie drapes himself across Buck’s back. Eddie waves. Both their faces now fill the screen.

“Hey—there’s my second favourite person in the world,” Eddie says.

“Hey,” Buck whines.

“Third favourite. Definitely third favourite.”

You laugh as the light turns green. You’re driving again. “Hey, Eddie. You been busy today?”

“Busy enough. You just finished up?”

“Mhm. Driving now.” Your eyes flick up towards your rear view mirror. “You ever get the weird feeling that someone’s watching you?”

“Yeah, when Bobby’s not happy about something I’ve done,” Buck says.

“That’s—I mean, that’s fair, but that’s not really what I meant.”

“D’you think someone’s watching you?” Eddie asks.

“Sometimes. And not in a fun way.”

“There’s a fun way?”

You hum noncommittally as you make a turn onto your street. With the library closing later at night, it means there’s less traffic, so you’re able to get home faster. “Yeah, like voyeurism, or something. Consensual. Sexy—hang on.” You frown, noting the abundance of cars lined along the street; seeing red and blue lights flash. No sirens, but still.

You roll your windows down as a police officer strides towards you, car idling. “Excuse me?”

There’s two police cars stationed outside your apartment block, and you can see the ‘do not cross’ tape blocking off your building.

“What’s wrong?” Buck is immediately tense, noting the lights flashing on your face.

“Hang on—just stay on the line.” You press the button to mute them, eyes moving away from the frown on their faces.

“Do you live here?” the officer questions.

“Yes, I do. Did something happen?”

“We got a call about a break-in. Can I see some ID?”

“Sure.” You dictate your movements, giving the officer your ID through the window after rummaging for it in your bag in the passenger seat.

He nods towards your phone. “Are you on a call?”

“Yes. And I’m going to stay on. It’s not illegal if my phone’s mounted.”

He gives you a look, but he doesn’t argue. He inspects your ID, then frowns.

You get an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

“2C? That’s yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

The officer steps away, speaking lowly into the radio attached near his shoulder. A voice responds, too staticky and far away for you to register actual words.

When he comes back, he hands you back your ID. “I’m going to need you to come with us to the station.”

“Is… is it my apartment? The break-in was in my apartment?”

“Come with us, okay? It’s safer at the station.”

Safer. You swallow thickly. “Can I park my car?”

The officer directs you to park onto the side.

“I gotta go. I’ll text. Love you.” You quickly hang up and take your belongings. You exit the car, locking it before climbing into the police cruiser.

At the station, you’re met with Sergeant Athena Grant.

“We’ve never officially met, but—”

“I know. Buck talks about you plenty.”

“Same about you, honestly.” You smile, feeling slightly more at ease. There’s something about her that makes your feel reassured. Maybe her presence, or the gravitas she somehow holds.

When you’re taken into her office so she can question you, you find yourself wanting to provide any information you have. Which, arguably, isn’t a lot. “It’s not actual evidence, but sometimes, I get the feeling like someone’s watching me.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Few days. It’s… weird. When I’m at home, at work, running errands; on and off, throughout the day.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?”

“It’s not concrete evidence.”

Sergeant Grant has a stern look on her face, and you can’t help but imagine this is the face she pulled when Buck wanted to do something stupidly stupendous, like attempt to find Maddie on his own. “We can start with an investigation. I can’t tell you much, but we do need some suspects. Have you noticed anyone suspicious around the building? Or might have expressed any desire to harm the building, or your landlord?”

You shake your head, a hand coming up to rest against your collarbone. “No—I don’t really pay too much attention to my neighbours. I didn’t notice anything suspicious. There might be cameras, though?”

Sergeant Grant nods, jotting down some notes. She nods towards your shoulder. “Are you in pain?”

“N-no. Not so much anymore. There was a fire where I work—in the library. You guys are still investigating it.”

She frowns, pen pausing. “You worked in that library?”

“Yes. Is… do you think they’re connected?” Something horrible sinks in your stomach.

“I don’t want to rule out anything, but at least it gives us an angle to work. In the meantime, I suggest you find somewhere to stay for the next few days, while we treat the apartment building as a crime scene. Do you have anywhere to stay?”

You nod.

“With Buck?” She raises her eyebrow, smirking. And gone is the professional Sergeant Grant, replaced by an utterly, entertained Athena—a friend of Buck’s.

“Um.” Your cheeks feel warm. “Yes. Maybe. If he’s okay with it, then yes. Um—am I still allowed to grab some things from my apartment?”

“I’ll get Officer Williams to escort you wherever you need to go.”

As you exit Sergeant Grant’s office, the officer from before—Officer Williams—walks with you. It’s a quiet drive back to your apartment.

You try to call Buck, but it rings through to voicemail; he’s probably responding to a fire. You hang up, texting a quick update about the break-in, meeting Sergeant Grant, the possible connection to the library fire, and that you’ll stay at his until you find other accommodations.

He did give you a key, and said you had an open invitation to his loft. But you’re not exactly keen on overstaying your welcome.

When you’re back at your apartment, Officer Williams allows you to grab your clothes. Everything else, however, you double check with him, and then ask him to grab for you. He gloves up, and takes what you ask for.

You’re concerned about the sanctity of the crime scene.

Which… nothing looks too different. Your apartment is just as you left it, aside from the evidence markers littered around.

“Do you know if they took anything?” you ask.

“We’re still investigating that. Do you notice anything missing?”

“No. I don’t think so.” You pack an overnight bag with additional clothes, pyjamas, work clothes, toiletries. You figure anything else, you can find at Buck’s, or you can buy if you can’t come back to your place yet.

You wake to Buck curled around your back. He’s snoring softly against your ear.

You shift, turning into his chest and fall back asleep.

The next time you wake, your alarm goes off. You try to blindly reach for it, but you end up slapping—

“Ow!”

“Shit. Shit, sorry.” You turn to the other side, sliding the alarm off your phone. “I forgot. ’m sorry.”

Buck pulls you against him, burying his face against your neck. “Morning.”

You make a disgruntled noise. You’re not a morning person; you snuggle into him. “How long have you been up?”

“40 minutes.”

“And you’ve been watching me sleep?”

“Yep.”

“Creep.”

“That’s me.” He sounds happy about it. Smug. He kisses your neck. “You don’t have to go.”

“I have work, baby.”

“No, I know. I meant, with your apartment. You can stay here as long as you need to, while they’re investigating. You don’t need to make other arrangements.”

Your fingers card through his curls, and he shivers, hot puffs of air against your neck. “You mean it?”

“Of course.”

You shift to kiss his forehead. “Okay. But I still gotta get to work. I’ll see you when I’m done.” Even though you don’t want to, you’re quick to get up and out of bed. You know the longer you stay, the less you’ll want to leave for work.

“You need a ride.” Buck sits up, blanket pooled around his waist.

“Fuck. Where’re your keys?”

“You’re not driving.”

“I’m a perfectly good driver.”

“Yes, but I still need my car.”

“I’ll take an Uber.”

“No.”

“Buck.”

“No. I’m driving you.”

You look at him.

“I want to.”

Something inside your chest aches. You sit on the mattress next to him, forehead gently bumping against his. “I’m okay, Buck. I’m safe.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything yet.” His arms wrap around you, pulling you into his lap.

The updates that you know, and that you shared with Buck so far, is that no other apartment had been broken into. Whoever did it, was targeting yours. That, coupled with the fire at the library has caused both Athena and Buck to become worried, even if they don’t admit it.

“Okay.” You want to stay here. You know it’s safe, with him. You know he’d do whatever he can to protect you. “I still have work, baby.”

Buck presses a kiss to your forehead before he lets you go. “I expect check-ins.”

“We already text all day.”

“Then we just need to text more.” Bright blue eyes twinkle.

You shake your head fondly. “Alright. Whatever you say, Buckley.”

He beams at you.

“You’re kidding me.”

You spot Eddie and Chris enter the library during the after school rush.

Again, you know this is another one of Buck’s babysitting schemes. And probably why he insisted on driving you to work; he had to make sure he knew which branch he was going to send the Diaz boys too.

They both wave to you, but they go about the library and let you work without distracting you.

It’s… nice. Kind of. A part of you feels worried, like they know something that you don’t, which justifies their actions.

Another part of you feels like they don’t trust you to take care of yourself.

Again, knowing they mean well, versus the idea of them not trusting you. Babying you. You can see it as a nice gesture, but that doesn’t make it any less annoying for you.

Eddie drives you home. Instead of sitting at the front with him, you’re in the back with Chris, chatting while Eddie tries to interject into the conversation.

“I don’t know, Chris, maybe we shouldn’t tell him.”

Chris hems and haws. “Maybe it should be our secret.”

“You’re keeping secrets from me?” Eddie plays his job well—he’s excellent at playing offended. Or maybe he’s covering up his actual offence by pretending this is a joke.

Okay. Maybe you feel a little bad. “No, no secrets here,” you say, secretively.

Eddie meets your gaze in the rear view mirror, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

You shrug, not giving anything up.

He finds it funny, how just like Buck, you’re a precarious balance between a mature adult and a kid in an adult’s body. Somehow two peas in a pod, but also balancing each other out. Of course he managed to get along with you, too. And of course, that meant that you got along with Chris like a house on fire. He’s a little worried, sometimes, mostly for his own sanity.

“It better not be chocolate.”

“No, of course not. Lesson learned.”

The lesson being Chris’ sparkling, hopeful eyes every time you saw him since the time you snuck him a chocolate bar; the way the light dimmed when you didn’t have any sweets for him. After that first time, you refused, even if Chris tried to guilt you. But you’re lucky he’s forgiving, seeing as he’s happy to chatter to you about the zoo trips that Buck likes taking him on.

“You should come!” Chris says, already trying to make plans about the next time he can go to the zoo.

“’S not a bad idea,” Eddie adds.

“Tell me when and where,” you say. “I’ll never say no to hanging out with you, Christopher.”

Chris beams. Then, “If you ever stop being friends with Dad and Buck, can we still hang out?” His voice is lowered.

You swallow thickly, hearing your heart pounding in your head. You resolutely decide not to look at the rear view mirror, where you know Eddie will be watching. No amount of whispering defeats the close quarters of a car. “Yes, of course. You know you can find me in the library.”

“But I won’t know which one.”

“Here.” You give him your phone, and let him input his number in there. You send him a smiley face so he can save your number. “Now we can always talk. Whenever you want.”

Chris grins. “And whenever you want, too.”

“Of course. Always, Chris.”

When the car parks by Buck’s apartment building, Eddie lets Chris run ahead to take the elevator up to Buck’s loft first.

“Hey, about what Chris said—”

“—Oh my God, I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Um… overstepping? With my phone number?”

“No, no—that’s fine.” Eddie waves away your concerns. “Before that. When he said if you and Buck ever stopped hanging out.”

“Right.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Eddie says. “It’s—not that it means much, but you’re good for each other. He’s… different, with you. In a good way.”

“Oh wow,” you say, “my boyfriend’s boyfriend is giving me his stamp of approval.”

Eddie looks at you, wry. He’s long gotten used to those jokes about being Buck’s boyfriend that you keep making. “Funny.” He jabs you with his elbow as you get into the elevator. “But I’m being honest.”

“Do you—” you falter as the elevator brings you onto Buck’s floor. You both get out. “Do you think we’ll still be friends if Buck and I don’t…” you trail off, almost afraid to say it.

Eddie looks at you, something soft in his eyes. Something sad. “We don’t have to worry about that, okay? Look, I’ve never—I don’t think I’ve ever really gotten to know his exes. But, I do like you a lot more than everyone else he’s ever dated.”

How can you admit that when it comes to Eddie, you know your place? A race you’ve forfeited, long before it’s began. When Buck first approached you in the library, you had learned two things of him; one—Eddie and Chris meant the world to him; and two—the 118 were his family. The fact that the two of them were so intertwined was a miracle in his eyes. Sometimes, you ached, seeing how much he loved them, and how much they loved him in return.

Eddie uses his key to open the door to Buck’s home. He holds it open for you.

You enter the loft and get swept into a hug.

“Hi,” Buck whispers. “Welcome home.”

“Hi, baby.” You can only hope that you are worthy enough to orbit around this sun.

Two weeks go by without much of an update. No one stands out a suspect, and despite Athena’s concerns, they treat the two cases as two separate cases as there’s not enough evidence to link the library fire and apartment break-in together.

It’s frustrating, to say. After the police did what they could, they allowed you back into your apartment, seeing as they couldn’t keep you away from your home.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to take your bag from Buck.

But he holds fast, tutting at you. “I’ve got it.”

“So do I.”

“I got it. It’s fine.” Buck just walks through your apartment, depositing your bags into your room.

You had been told that you were allowed back into your apartment yesterday. And even though you were relieved, and wanted to move back as soon as possible to stave off that feeling of imposing onto Buck, he had essentially begged for you to wait until his day off so he could help. You think it has something to do with the idea that it would feel abrupt to him, if you had packed up and left during his shift; he woke up with you in the morning, and by the time he’s back, you’re gone.

You weren’t going to argue, really.

“Any scary monsters in the closet or under the bed?” you ask when Buck comes back out into the kitchen.

“Nope. Nothing in there.”

“That’s what I figured. You know, you don’t have to be here.”

“I know. But I want to be here.”

“Don’t you have other stuff to be doing? Ones that don’t involve babysitting me?”

Buck, at least, looks embarrassed at being called out. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I… had plans with Eddie. But he doesn’t mind if I don’t come. He understands.”

“Go have fun with Eddie.”

“But—you can come along.”

“Have. Fun.”

Buck drapes himself onto you, arms wrapped around in a hug. “I could stay here.”

“No. I’ve literally been living with you for the past two weeks.”

“I liked it.”

“Me too. But you need to go see your friends.”

“Eddie visited. And Maddie. And Chim.”

“Go see them outside of your apartment. Touch grass.”

“Funny. I touch grass every time I work.”

“Buck.” Your palms slot against his cheeks, framing his face. “I’m fine. I promise. I’ll call if I need anything.”

He sighs, dramatic and wistful. “They grow up so fast.”

“You think you’re so funny.”

He presses kisses to your forehead, laughing. “I do, actually. Hen also thinks I am.”

“In the nicest way possible, get the fuck out of my apartment, Buckley.”

“Okay.” He noses against your jaw, lips pressed against yours. It’s slow, soft, but something changes when his hand travels down to your uninjured side. His fingers flex, digging into your side briefly before he lifts you, walking to perch you onto the counter.

“Buck,” you gasp—partly in complaint as he was meant to be leaving, and partly because every display of his strength never fails to turn you on.

He tugs you against him, and your legs wrap around his waist. You feel him, half-hard, both your clothed cores aligned.

His hips stutter against yours, and you moan.

You need him.

Buck made good promise to the six to 12 weeks. It’s not that he’s never touched you, but he’s treated you like you’re fragile, afraid to do anything that might hurt you. There have been times, of course, especially during the two weeks you were in his loft, where you’ve rutted against each other like hormonal teenagers; where you’ve ridden his thigh, using your fingers to get yourself off, hearing him talk you through it in low tones.

It’s—maddening. Frustrating.

Since the fire, he hasn’t been inside you, and you have a feeling that he’ll wait the whole 12 weeks. Just to make sure you’re okay.

“Buck, please, please—I need you.” You know the begging drives him mad. As much as it’s been frustrating you, it’s been doing the same for him. Except it’s his stupid, self-imposed rule that he can lift at any time, but chooses not to.

“I know, baby.” He lays kisses up your neck, voice hoarse. “I should go.”

“You should.” You meet his lips again, exchanging lazy kisses.

“I love you,” he whispers in between kisses.

“I love you, too.”

With one lingering kiss, Buck exits your apartment.

Two days later, you’re pinned to the side of your car. You’re struggling against someone.

Damp cloth covers your nose and mouth.

Your struggle is futile.

When you wake, it’s in a cold, dark room. Your eyes struggle to adjust. You don’t know how long you’re there until a light flicks on.

You flinch, blinking wildly.

“You’re awake.”

Oh. That voice. You know that voice.

“Ben,” you say. Your Goddamn ex.

“I saw you.”

You’re still groggy from waking up, unsure what he’s talking about. “Saw me?” The last place you saw him was the grocery store.

“I’ve been watching. It pissed me off, you know? At first, it was accidental. I kept seeing you everywhere. But—it’s like I was meant to see you. I needed to know.”

You blink again. It’s instinct to rub at your eyes, but your hands are tied to a round metal pole behind your back. “What? Know what?”

“About you and Eddie.”

Oh. Oh no. Your little lie. You can’t help the laugh the bubbles up. It sounds delirious, even to your own ears. You try to tamp it down, but you can’t.

Ben crouches down in front of you. He cups your face, even as you try to jerk away from him.

Your head thunks against the metal pole.

“Quit it,” Ben demands. “Quit fighting me. I know you feel some kind of obligation to Eddie and his son, but it’s okay to end things with him. Then you can be with me. We’re meant to be together.”

Everything he said after mentioning Eddie’s son just hollows out. Your stomach drops. Your ears ring. “Stop,” you stutter. “Stop, please, just stop talking.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I understand you, either.”

“I saw you. With some other guy. In your apartment when you moved back in.”

“You’ve… you’re watching me.” You can only assume that was two days ago, when Buck had taken you back home.

“You’re cheating on your boyfriend. On Eddie.” He says the name like it’s something disgusting. “That’s when I knew—we’re the same, you and I. We’re meant to be together.”

“I’m nothing like you.” Your eyes roam around the room, trying to find any clues. It’s a relatively empty room. A table, a chair. A shelf.

Ben grips your cheeks between his fingers and thumb, forcing your head to turn to face him. “Look at me. Right now, there’s only me.”

“They’re going to find you.”

“They? Who’s they? You really think anyone else gives a shit about you?”

“Yes.” There’s so much conviction to your voice. You know Buck would try and find you. You know he would tell Athena. She must have some clues. “They’ll—someone will find me.” Hell, maybe the LAPD were planning a wellness check on your after you’ve settled into your apartment. They would find the apartment bereft of you.

“You know, I always admired that,” Ben says. His thumb strokes your cheekbone. Once upon a time, it was comforting to you. “You always think the best of people.”

“Like I did with you? Like when I believed you gave a shit about me, before you slept with my mother?”

“Yeah. That was—you don’t understand. I need to be everywhere, when it comes to you. I’ve never felt this way before, and it’s your fault.”

He’s delusional. You try to breathe, forcing out calm breaths, even if everything in you want to panic; wants to revolt and call him names, demand that he let you go.

“What do you want?” you ask.

“You.”

You shake your head. “I’m not—I can’t.”

“I know. But I’ll fix it. I’ll deal with Eddie and his son—”

“No!” You can’t help it. Your head shoots up, leaning forward, despite your restrained hands. Your collarbone twinges with the strain. “Don’t, please don’t. Please, don’t touch them.”

“It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” Ben pats your cheek. You’re frozen as he lowers his lips to your forehead.

“I’ll fix everything.” Ben marches out, turning the light switch off.

“Ben!”

Darkness descends.

“Stop! Ben, please!” Your cries are ignored.

It’s—hopeless. You’re ziptied.

You’ve watched a lot of random reels while doom-scrolling about how to get out of zipties, but none of them work for when your hands are behind you. The metal pole is embedded into the floor. It’s smoothed and painted over; no sharp parts you can saw the zipties over until they’re cut.

You try to feel in your back pocket, but your phone isn’t there. Either it fell during the initial struggle, or Ben has it. You just hope that he doesn’t know how to hack into your phone. You’re grateful you’ve never been a Face ID or fingerprint person—you rely on a passcode.

It’s one barrier that prevents Ben from accessing your phone, your contacts; Eddie and Chris and Buck.

You don’t know how long it’s been.

Ben comes back, turning the light on again. You flinch, and try to look around the room. No windows. Just the one door. Maybe plastered walls.

“His name is Chris.”

Your breath hitches.

“The son. Eddie’s son. I found that out. They’re lovely. I can see why you like them.”

“What did you do? Ben, what did you do?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry. I’ve just been watching closely. He doesn’t know you’re gone yet.”

“He’s a firefighter.”

“I know. He’s very busy. Funny how you got on my case about always being too busy for you.”

Towards the end of the relationship, after he met your parents, Ben would ignore you the whole day, and would claim you were too needy when you asked why he never responded or picked up calls. Even though Buck works 24 hours shifts, the calls and texts are continuous throughout the day. Fuck, even Eddie responds whenever you reach out to him about something while he’s working. Neither of them are immediate responders, but at least you get a response.

“I was wrong,” you say. You think that’s what he wants to hear. That you were wrong; that you learned your lesson from him. That you were the one at fault, not him. “I’m—I’m too much.”

Ben nods, thinking. “Yes. But it’s okay. It’s okay if it’s the two of us. Who else are we going to be needy with?”

You stare at him.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since I saw you again. It made me mad that you moved on, you know. I messed up your life. You were supposed to be upset.”

“I was,” you admit. You had spent so long in therapy. You pushed away your friends. You acted out against your parents; you blamed your mother. You closed yourself off from everyone, and then wondered why you felt so alone.

“It’s not enough,” Ben says. “Seeing you with Eddie—that’s when I knew that I had to do something else. Something bigger.”

You swallow thickly. “Was the fire you? In the library?”

Ben watches you, calculating. Then he shrugs. He’s smart enough to not admit it.

“Ben. Ben, who am I going to tell? I’m stuck here. There’s no one else here.”

“You still think you’re going to get out.”

You press your lips together in a thin line. You can’t argue with that. For the first time in your life, you believe that someone will miss your absence.

Ben crouches again, pressing his lips to your forehead before he leaves.

The lights turn off.

Buck realises something’s wrong when you don’t reply to him.

Even when you’re working late nights in the library, you still respond to him after you’re done. Or even when you’re on your breaks, throughout the day. So far, it’s been radio silence.

Instead of wallowing in his own head about you ghosting him, like he did before, he’s realising that something’s wrong. He calls the library, asking if you ever showed up to work. You were rostered to work, but never showed up. You didn’t respond when your coworkers and managers tried calling you.

He calls Athena.

“I need to make a missing person’s report,” he says.

“What’s wrong?”

He tells her everything that he knows.

Eddie squeezes Buck’s shoulder, grabbing them both an extra cup of coffee.

Eddie had tried calling you too, but you hadn’t responded. Which, again, was unusual, as you typically made time to respond to him; you were friends. He’d watch Buck frown at his phone halfway throughout the morning, before he asked what was wrong. The last time that you seemingly ghosted Buck, you had been injured in the library fire.

“C’mon,” Eddie says, after Buck hangs up the phone with Athena. Eddie takes them down to the gym, where Buck can at least punch out the nervous energy, or at least until he feels better.

“I’m just… worried,” Buck huffs out. Sweat loosens the curls of his hair, and he pushes it back with the back of the glove.

Eddie swallows. “I know, buddy. But Athena’s got it. You trust her, right?”

“Of course.” Buck nods. Of course, he trusts Athena more than anything, but he doesn’t quite know what’s happened to you. The only way that he’ll truly believe that you’re okay, is if he can see you for himself. Touch you, hear you. Know that you’re safe with his own senses.

“Hey.” Eddie places a hand on the junction between his shoulder and neck, squeezing again. “You can’t help anyone by stressing yourself out.” And he means more than you—they still have a job to focus on.

Buck sniffs, distracting himself from making eye contact with Eddie by taking off his gloves. “I know.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Eddie knows they’re empty platitudes. With the threat of the fire and break-in at your apartment, it looks like you’ve been targeted specifically. And that, more than anything else, scares him. He can run into burning buildings for a living without blinking. Fire is nondiscriminatory. Fire happens, even if someone intentionally sets it. Fire doesn’t have a plan, doesn’t set out to hurt people.

The alarm rings.

“You ready?”

Buck swallows thickly, nodding. “Let’s go.”

They find you, eventually.

Eventually, though, feels too long.

You’re hurt, bleeding, wrangling the phone from Ben’s pants pocket. You dial 911, pressing the volume button all the way down, sliding the screen brightness down until it glows dimly in the dark room.

Without waiting to hear if the call has connected yet, you whisper, “Help. Send help. Please.”

You watch Ben stir.

You quickly tuck the phone under his jacket that he had discarded to the side. You hear a muffled voice from beneath the fabric.

“Hey,” Ben murmurs, sleep-addled. His hand grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him.

“Stop,” you say, your voice hoarse.

He doesn’t listen. He never listens. He shifts, climbing onto you.

“Ben, stop.”

“Stop fighting me,” he says. He grabs your ziptied hands, holding them above your head. His lips press against yours.

You don’t respond; you never respond.

His lips are on your neck.

“Get off me! Ben!”

Minutes pass.

Ben leaves the mattress that he had decided to grace you with. He grabs his jacket from the side.

You both freeze at the sight of the phone, lit up.

“What—what did you do?”

You stay silent.

“What the Hell did you do? You fucking—”

The voice from the phone raises, trying to call Ben’s attention, you think.

Ben grabs the phone, hanging up. He stalks towards you. “Fuck you. Fuck, you’ve—you’ve ruined everything. Fuck.” He’s panicked. He grabs you.

You fight. Even though your hands are tied, you fight. You scratch. You kick.

He throws you down.

And runs.

They find you.

They call your father again.

He doesn’t come. The empty room is enough of an answer.

Sergeant Grant is stationed outside your door. She notices you stir.

“Hey,” she murmurs softly. There’s something peaceful in the way she tucks your hair behind your ear.

“Sergeant?” you croak out, groggy.

“It’s just Athena.” She holds out a paper cup and straw, letting you drink from it.

“What happened?”

“We found you. You did so well. You were so smart.”

“But he—I—”

“I know. I know, darling. We’ll find him.”

“He’s still out there?” It stirs something horrible inside you.

“We’ll find him,” she promises. “He won’t ever hurt you again.”

There was something important that you felt like you needed to say, outside of your fear. You were scared, but not for yourself. Ben wouldn’t dare come near you while you were in a hospital with Sergeant—Athena here.

“I’m going to make some calls. You should get some rest; it’s going to be a long process.”

You know what she means; the reporting, the evidence, the questioning. But still, you’ve flagged something in your mind—something important, but you can’t remember it. But you know it’s important. Every time you try to remember, it escapes like smoke between your fingers.

You drift again.

When you wake, Buck is sitting in the seat near the bed.

At first, you don’t notice him. You startle out of unconsciousness.

“Hey—hey, oh, baby. I’m here, you’re safe, baby, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“Buck?” you whisper.

“I’m here, okay? I got you, baby.” At some point, he had gotten out of the chair, enveloping you into a hug. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” you ask. What did he have to be sorry for? None of this was his fault.

But he doesn’t answer. He shifts back a little, tenderly cupping your face with both his palms. His eyes roam around the bruises on your face; your split lip. There are tears in his bright blue eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault,” you tell him.

Buck nods, but you both know that he doesn’t believe it. He thinks he should have just taken the time off if he was worried about you being targeted. He could have done everything differently.

“I was so worried,” Buck says. He presses his lips to your forehead.

You flinch away.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He checks you over; he thought he had avoided the bruises on your face.

“It’s—it’s okay,” you say. You swallow thickly. You feel guilt burn inside you.

Buck effortlessly drags the chair next to the bed. He sits, taking your hand in his. “Athena called me,” he says. “She said… she said your dad…”

You nod, squeezing Buck’s hand. One of the nurses had told you that your emergency contact had been alerted, but all your dad did was thank them for letting him know. “He didn’t want to come.”

“He did last time, right?”

“Yeah. He left after I woke up.”

Buck has a furrow between his brows. His thumb brushes across your knuckles.

“Hey,” you whisper, knowing that he’s probably thinking too deeply about parents—either yours or his. “Were you working?” you say, in an attempt to distract him.

“Yeah. Bobby let me leave when Athena called me—everyone’s fine covering for me. Athena said it was safer to be here with the LAPD watching over us in case he—” Buck swallows thickly. He clears his throat. “Eddie and Chris miss you too, by the way.”

Your breath hitches. Eddie. Eddie and Chris. “Athena,” you start. You tighten your hold on Buck’s hand. “Athena, we need—I need to talk to her—”

“Hey, hey, breathe, it’s okay. We’re safe here. Athena’s just outside, making sure we are.” He speaks with such conviction that you want, so badly, for it to be true.

“No,” you whisper. It’s a dreadful feeling, knowing you’re the reason. The reason that they’re in danger, the reason for destroying Buck’s pool of hope. “It’s Eddie.”

“What?”

“Eddie—the supermarket, remember? We saw Ben and I—”

“—You said Eddie was your boyfriend to get away from him.” Oh, the terrible moment the realisation dawns. The way his face falls, the moment he realises he’s not the one in danger. He never was. It’s always the ones he loves that are at risk.

You feel tears well in your eyes. Your voice trembles, urgent. “Buck—”

Buck shoots up from the chair, and he’s out of the room within seconds.

You watch from behind the window as Buck runs to find Athena. You cover your face. If something happens to them, to Chris, because of one stupid lie you made…

You try to smooth out your breathing.

How stupid. How pathetic.

More minutes pass, you think.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, just breathe, it’s okay. I got you.” Buck’s voice, his hands soothing on you.

“But Eddie…”

“I know,” he breathes. “I know. Athena’s calling Eddie now, and she’s going to his place. They’ll be okay.”

You don’t know if he’s attempting to assure you or himself.

Nothing happened.

When Eddie and Chris enter the hospital, and you’re appraised of their presence, of their safety, you feel a rush of relief. It crashes into tears, heaving sobs while Eddie hovers by the door.

Buck trades places; Eddie grasps Buck’s shoulder, they exchange nods before Buck leads Chris to the vending machine.

You shake your head repeatedly, even as he nears. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen—”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, and he touches you, gently, on your arm.

“It’s not. He knew about Chris, he said he was watching me—”

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His hand cups your face, stilling you. “I’m okay. Chris is okay. Nothing happened, okay? Athena called me, and I locked all my doors. We waited for her to come pick us up. No one followed us. No one else got hurt.”

“But he’s still—he’s out there.”

“Athena’s looking. She’ll get him.”

You trust them. You trust her. You haven’t known her for as long as they have, but she intimidates you. Her power, her confidence; their trust is so implicit, that you feel that trust bleed into you too, even if you didn’t have years to know her like they have.

“It’ll be okay.” Eddie’s hand slides to the nape of your neck, drawing you close as he presses his lips to the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you still say, wiping at your tears.

He shakes his head, a concerned furrow between his brows. “Listen.” The hand at the nape of you neck momentarily tightens. “None of this was your fault.”

You avert your eyes, the tears rising unbidden again. “I—I, I should’ve—”

“No, no. It’s not your fault. It never was.”

You’re not sure who moves first. Your face is buried into his shirt as you cry; his hand has moved from your nape, pulling you close. His hand rubs soothing circles on your upper back.

“Oh, cariño,” Eddie whispers. “It’s going to be okay.”

A few weeks later, you’re invited to a small friends and family celebration that is being held for the 118. It’s at Athena’s place.

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say, falling into the embrace that Athena wraps you in.

She rubs your back, drawing away to cup your cheeks between her palms. “Of course I would.” She hadn’t even invited you as a plus one—she managed to obtain your contact details from Buck, and sent a direct invite to you. There was no possible realm where you would say no to her.

“It means a lot.”

You get shuffled to Bobby, and you awkwardly try to introduce yourself to him.

He gives you a look before he says, “Come here,” and pulls you into a big hug.

“Oh.” It’s… nice. Buck speaks about Bobby like he’s his father—has admitted it too, sometimes. It’s not an official thing. You wonder if Buck talked about to him about your status with your parents.

“Welcome to the family,” he whispers to you, warm.

Your lips thin into a line to keep yourself from bursting into cries. “Thank you,” you respond, if not a little wet.

Bobby seems to understand, rubbing your back before he moves on, like he hadn’t offered you your dreams on a platter. Somewhere to belong. Even if it’s with Buck—especially if it’s with Buck by your side.

When you get introduced to Maddie, she reveals that she’s the one that had taken your call.

“Oh,” you manage to utter. “I’m sorry.”

Maddie merely shakes her head, and tears well in her eyes. She knows all too well why you would apologise. “It’s not your fault,” she says.

And the tears fall. You’re not quite sure which of you started.

Maddie hugs you. You hold onto her.

You see Buck look at both of you, concerned and bemused but you shoot him a thumbs up from over Maddie’s shoulders.

“You’ll be okay, honey,” Maddie says.

You nod, trying not to cry again. First Bobby, and now Maddie.

Maddie wipes the tears from your face, laughing as you return the favour. “We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” you repeat like a mantra, like a promise to each other.

She smiles and kisses your cheek.

Hen and Chimney corner you and coral you with stories about Buck and certain… firehose shenanigans. Buck, who had at first, wanted to save you from them, ended up fleeing by then.

“He didn’t tell me about the snake one, though,” you muse.

“Either he’s really embarrassed, or he’s forgotten all about it,” Hen conspires.

“You should remind him, either way,” Chim says.

Eddie arrives later, with Chris in tow.

As Buck beelines to say hi to Chris, Eddie scoops you into a hug.

“How’re you going?” he asks.

“Better. A lot better,” you add.

“Eddie!” Buck boulders into Eddie for a hug, even though you’re sure that they’ve seen each other the last time they had a shift together. Somehow, they act like one day apart makes them antsy.

You pat both of their shoulders and move away, seeking out Hen and Chim again.

“You lost your boyfriend?” Hen asks, chin gesturing towards where Buck and Eddie are talking.

“Always do when it comes to precious Eddie,” you say.

Chim laughs. “Don’t know how you do it.”

“Probably similar to how Karen and Maddie deal with you guys, right?”

And speaking of, Karen sidles into the group like she senses the arising gossip session.

“No,” Chim says, eyebrows furrowed. “We’re nothing like them.”

“Like who?” Karen asks.

Hen merely waves her hand towards Buck and Eddie.

“Ah.” Karen takes a sip of her beer. “Yeah, they’re nothing like that. You’re in a different boat,” she says to you.

“What boat?”

“Don’t know,” she and Hen say, helpfully.

“You’re the first,” Chim says.

“Thanks, guys, that’s so helpful,” you say, heavy with sarcasm.

“Look,” Hen says, composing herself into a serious mood. “If you really want to figure things out, I think you should just be straightforward. Keep—an open mind. But also be honest. And remember that you’re allowed to speak up and have an opinion too.”

You’re trying to follow along, but you have no idea if Hen started drinking yet. “Figure… figure what out?”

“The three of you.”

Your eyes narrow, trying to see the correlation. She was being very vague, but it sounded wise. “Eddie’s our friend. Obviously Buck and him are close because they’re partners. Like you guys.” You wave your finger between Hen and Chim.

“Yes,” Hen agrees. “But, again, it’s different.”

“I don’t really get it.”

“Keep thinking about it,” Karen says, cryptically. She gives a couple sympathetic pats on your shoulder.

They don’t make sense to you. There’s nothing to figure out—Eddie is Buck’s best friend. They’re close. You’ve kind of resigned yourself to always being lower on the priority list in Buck’s life. Even then, Buck has so much love to give that it never feels like he’s forgotten or abandoned you.

“You’re not making sense,” you say.

“I’m kind of lost, now, too,” Chim says.

“You’ll figure it out,” Hen promises.

You resolve that Buck’s friends are either confusing, or confused. You’ve met up with them a few times when they had gone out for drinks and Buck had invited you along. They’ve never made you feel ostracised for not being a part of their circle of first responders.

Athena plugs in a karaoke machine for the rest of the party.

Athena and Bobby, are first up for a song that they sing together. May and Harry end up joining them halfway through.

Obviously, Maddie and Chim claim the next spot.

Buck hollers in support of them both, an arm secure around your waist. You can’t help but feel in awe of how happy he appears. Soft, and at peace. These people are his—this is his family.

Your name is called over the microphone. You startle a little, shooting Chim a quizzical look.

“This one’s for you,” Chim slurs, evidently a few drinks into the night.

You shoot him a thumbs up, and then curl your fingers into a heart for Maddie, who blows a kiss at you.

Buck laughs, his arm squeezing around your waist. “Hey. I’m going to get something else to drink.” Buck leans down to be heard. “You want anything?”

“Another flavour, maybe?” You lift up your almost empty can of white claw. Buck nods, lips grazing your temple before he leaves. You can see him getting waylaid by Eddie and Chris.

The music plays a few notes before it cuts out.

Bobby heads up to the makeshift karaoke stage to try and fix the machine.

There’s a crackling noise over the speaker.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Maddie’s voice.

Maddie, herself, freezes onstage. Chim abandons the microphone in an instant, next to her.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Rustling noises from the other side of the phone call.

“If you can hear me, but you can’t speak, just press a button. Please. I’m right here.”

“Cap, turn it off,” Chim says. He’s stern—furious, even as he’s taking Maddie away from the machine, like moving her away can stop the audio from playing.

“I’m trying,” Bobby exclaims.

Buck forsakes the task of getting new drinks to hover between Maddie and Bobby, trying to help in any way. You don’t blame him—you feel useless just standing around.

Athena joins the attempt, working on the laptop that’s attached to the machine.

There’s a muffled voice on the other side of the call, but it’s difficult to parse actual words from the indistinct syllables.

“Stop.” A new voice, but clearer.

Maddie tries to wave Chim and Buck away from her. Suffocated by the attention, you assume. She’s saying something insistently to them. You watch Buck turn away from her.

“Ben, stop.”

Oh.

How strange that you didn’t recognise your own voice, but you know what this is, from the name.

“Stop fighting me.” Another person speaks.

And that voice—you recognise it.

“Get off—!”

Feedback whining from the speakers, then silence.

Eddie stands by the wall, the power cord hanging from his hand.

Your breaths release in uneven bursts. Saliva pools in your mouth. Your heart thuds rapidly in your chest, like you’ve been running.

You barely make it to the kitchen sink before you throw up.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay, let it out.”

You’re not sure who’s rubbing your back and smoothing your hair. You don’t know how long you’ve spent bent over the sink.

Paper towels are handed to you.

You thank Hen as you grab them from her, wiping at your mouth.

“Here—sit.” She pulls over a kitchen stool to let you sit.

Athena presses a glass of water into your hands. “Drink.” From her tone, you can hear that she’s not taking no for an answer.

You give her a trembling smile before sipping at the water. “’M sorry.”

“No,” Athena hushes. “None of that. None of this is your fault.”

You sniffle around the tissues, wiping your nose.

“Hey.”

You look up from the glass of water to see Buck hovering by the kitchen. You’re struck first, by the remembrance of his uncertainty. The way he’s unsure of touching you, of being near you. That’s never happened before. Second, by the idea that you’ve ruined this night for him—for everyone.

You arm lifts, a tiny movement telegraphed by mere centimetres—outstretched towards him. That’s all it takes before he collides into you. His arms wrap you up and you bury your face into his torso. You don’t cry, but it’s a close thing.

“We should go.” Buck’s hand caresses your upper arm, rubbing up and down in mindless comfort.

You sniff, turning your head to watch Hen and Athena mill around the kitchen.

“I think you should stay here,” Athena says. “I can get some units to stake out your place, but at least in here, you’d be safe with me.”

You tilt your head up to Buck, only to find his gaze already on yours. His gaze is soft—questioning; leaving the choice to you. You turn your attention back to Athena. “Okay.”

“Buck, you can stay too.”

You feel the relief sag his body. “Thanks, Athena.”

“We’ll get the machine checked out, too,” Athena says.

“What about Eddie? And Chris?” The tampered karaoke machine’s the last of your concerns.

“I’ll talk to them.” She heads off to find them in the living room.

Hen gives you a quizzical look. “What about them?”

With a sigh, you tell her about what happened in the grocery store—the start of this disaster, you think.

Athena comes back with Eddie; Chris gets shown to one of the bedrooms by Harry and May.

“You alright?” Eddie asks. Your shoulder is in his grasp, a comforting weight.

“Yeah,” you say, leaning against Buck. Buck’s hand rubs your back. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Eddie says. “It’s not your fault.”

Eddie shares a look with Buck—a silent conversation reserved for the two of them. Eddie’s hand moves to grip Buck’s shoulder. Buck nods.

“Alright,” Eddie says, finally. “Sleepover time.”

Instead of focusing on the shit show that was the party at the Grant-Nash residence, your mind is preoccupied with whatever Hen and Karen were telling you to think about.

The three of you.

It’s somehow a weird notion, and somehow not.

Evidently, Buck, Eddie, and you have been a unit—you hang out; you’re all friends. That makes sense. The way that Hen and Karen were talking about it, though, made it seem like there was more to it.

And there can’t be.

Because it doesn’t make sense.

Maybe for Buck and Eddie.

But Buck’s under the notion that Eddie is straight, and you think it would be wholly unfair if Buck had entered a relationship with you if he had pre-existing feelings for Eddie.

Which. Well. You can’t really say he doesn’t. All you know is that Buck prioritises Eddie in a way that he doesn’t do for anyone else. Except maybe you. But you’re sure, when it comes to priorities, you exchange places with Eddie a lot.

It changes thing—the idea that someone else notices these things makes you think that they’re not just happening in your head. It’s not just an insecurity that festers inside of you, making you believe that you’ll always be the odd one out. You’re not quite a part of the family unit that Buck created for himself. Not really.

“What’s happening in that head of yours?” Eddie asks, sliding into the seat across from you.

You chuckle, knowing that the truth isn’t something that he’ll ever be privy to. “Was just wondering what’s taking you guys so long.”

“Got caught up by the bar. Sorry.”

You wave away the apology. “S’okay.”

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice says. A woman walks up to your booth. “I noticed the two of you from my table.” She gestures to a corner of the room, where her friends are trying not to make it obvious that they’re watching, ready to hype up their friend. “I was wondering if you were looking for a third.”

You try not to laugh—or smile. You’re sure it took her a lot of courage to ask, but you kind of never expected to be propositioned like this in real life. It’s something you see in memes, sure. But not in real life.

Your gaze flickers between Eddie and the woman. As far as you know, Eddie is single, so maybe this is something that he wants on his own.

The beat of silence that ensues starts to prolong itself—it’s entering awkward silence territory.

The woman shuffles on her feet, feeling the weight of her blunder. Her mouth opens for what you’re sure is apologies.

“We’re not actually—” you start.

“We’re good,” Eddie interrupts.

You shoot him a look, but he smiles politely at the woman.

“We’re not interested,” Eddie says. He’s kind, but firm about it.

“No, of course not. I just—figured I’d ask. Have a nice night, you two.” She scampers away to her friends.

You turn your attention to Eddie, raising your eyebrow when he re-meets your gaze.

“What?” he asks.

“You didn’t want to hook up with her?”

He shrugs. “Not really my type. And she doesn’t seem interested in me. Not alone, at least.”

You shake your head. You pick up the salt shaker on the table, fidgeting with it. “Yeah, but we’re not together in the way that she thinks we are.”

“I’m sure Buck wouldn’t mind if it stops you from getting hit on.”

“That’s—kind of the problem.” You can’t help but think of Ben. It was one innocuous thing, that spiralled into this. Into paranoia; into an inability to be alone; to frequently checking in with Eddie to ensure he and Chris are safe; to being on a call with Buck or Athena or Maddie to make sure you felt safe enough to head into work and come home at night; to Buck sleeping over at yours, or you sleeping over at his.

Eddie sighs, nodding. He knows what your mind is occupied with. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. You shouldn’t even be involved. And Chris—” The salt shaker clatters out of your hands, rolling onto the table.

Eddie grabs it before you can reach for it.

“If something happens to Chris because of—him, then. I just—he doesn’t deserve to be in the middle of this stupid thing.”

“Neither do you.”

You nod, but you’re not sure you believe it. You’re sure that Eddie knows that, too.

When Buck comes back with your drinks, you shuffle over to make room for him.

Sometime into the night, a few—a lot of—drinks in, you’re curled against Buck’s shoulder. His arm is a comforting warmth around you, body vibrating with a laugh.

Eddie’s sober—he’s designated driver for you and Buck. His eyes are still bright, flicking between you and Buck, a soft smile on his face.

Buck accidentally knocks a bottle off the table whilst gesticulating in his storytelling.

Eddie catches it, beer sloshing over his hand.

“Whoa,” Buck says, literal stars in his eyes. “That was so cool, Eddie. You’re so cool, Eddie.”

Eddie laughs, wiping his hand with a paper towel. “I think it’s time for us to go, bud.”

Buck starts to whine, clearly not an idea that he likes.

You pat Buck’s shoulder. “We have more drinks at home,” you say. You haven’t had as much as Buck, but you’re definitely not sober. Home will probably be Buck’s place, but you and Eddie both know that Buck will crash once he’s laid out on the bed. “Come on, let’s go, baby.”

Buck allows you to herd him out of the booth seat, and Eddie tucks his arm under Buck, the three of you heading to Eddie’s car. Buck passes out as soon as he’s strapped into the backseat.

In the time that he spends trying to corral Buck, you’ve been scanning the parking lot and surrounding areas. It’s dark, but you’re convinced that if you keep an eye out, you’ll be able to protect them, or you’ll be able to see—him.

“You alright?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” you say, distracted. Your eyes remain affixed to a clump of trees. Shadows in the streetlights.

“Hey.” You hear the door of his car close, and Eddie bumps your shoulder, drawing your attention. “Come on. Let’s get you home too.”

You nod, eyes flickering to Buck in the backseat, already fast asleep.

Despite your drunken paranoia, the drive to Buck’s loft is uneventful. Eddie helps get Buck into bed—Buck’s half-asleep and dragging long limbs around. “You’re the best, Eddie. Love you,” Buck mumbles into the pillow.

Eddie snorts. “Love you too, buddy.” Eddie smooths out Buck’s hair, heading down into the kitchen with you. “You planning on sleeping?”

You shrug. “If I get tired.”

Eddie grabs two glasses, filling them with water. He places them on the table. Like he belongs. Like this is home as much as his place is; as much as the firehouse is.

“The nightmares will go,” Eddie says.

You blink, trying to compose yourself with a laugh. “I never said anything about nightmares.”

“You didn’t have to. ’S okay, you know? I get them. Buck gets them too.”

“I know.” You’ve been woken up by Buck before; made calls to Eddie when you weren’t sure what to do. Eddie taught you how to calm Buck down from a nightmare. You wonder how you’ve never realised that you’ve learned how to be Buck’s partner through Eddie.

“Get some rest. You look beat.”

“Gee, thank you so much. You always make me feel special.” You flip him off, and he grins. But you listen, turning off the kitchen light and heading for the stairs.

“You need help getting up there?” Eddie trails after you.

“No,” you say, indignant, before promptly tripping over your own feet on the second step.

Eddie catches you, chuckling. “Mm, wanna try that again?” He’s a step below you, making your height level. And he’s close. And you’re drunk, head still fuzzy. You’re warmed by his arm around your waist, the soft glow of his eyes in the moonlight.

Something blares in your head; something rabbiting in your chest. You lean into him, lips brushing.

Eddie clears his throat, taking a step back. His warmth absent. “I should go,” he says.

“Okay,” you whisper.

“I’ll lock up. You head up.”

And you do.

And Eddie doesn’t move until he hears the bedsheets rustling upstairs.

“Eddie’s avoiding me,” is the first thing Buck says when you pick up the phone.

You hear him first, and then his image loads in. You’re both lucky that your lunch break and his down time at the station has synced up.

“What do you mean?” You’re 15 minutes into a 45 minute lunch break, so you settle down, earbuds tucked into your ears.

“He’s not talking to me. Like this morning, in the kitchen. It was a normal breakfast, but he dipped out as soon as I sat next to him. And! And, he volunteered to go with Ravi when Cap was assigning us! Not that there’s anything wrong with Ravi, but Eddie always goes with me. He never asks to go with anyone else.” Buck’s definitely put out. Whining, even.

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. Working out, maybe? He’s avoiding me, so I decided to give him space.”

“That’s actually mature of you, baby.”

“Did I do anything embarrassing when I was drunk?”

“I don’t think so. I can’t remember anything embarrassing.”

“Yeah. That’s usually a you thing.”

“Hey. Careful, Buckley.”

Buck grins. “D’you think I should try and talk to him?”

“Maybe. I don’t think you should push him, but you could let him know that if he needs to say something to you, you’ll be there to listen.”

“Oh, that’s smart. I’ll do that. You’re the best.”

“You know it, babe. Anyway, I need to head back. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

After his shift and yours, Buck ends up at your place, making dinner for the two of you. “Hey,” you say, walking into the kitchen. “That smells nice.”

“Hey. Missed you.” He wraps you into a hug, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Throughout dinner, you notice his attention on you more than usual, like he has something he wants to say.

“Is everything okay?” you ask. You’re not sure how to approach him.

“Hm? Yeah, yes, everything’s fine,” Buck says, in that voice that lets you know that everything is not fine.

“Okay,” you cede, even though his suspicious behaviour is making you curious.

You focus on your dinner again, even though you still notice his attention on you. The sighing, the opening and closing of his mouth like he’s trying to give himself the courage to say something.

“Did you end up talking to Eddie?” you ask him instead. If he won’t talk, then you will.

“What?” Buck’s voice is unnaturally high-pitched. “Why would I—what about Eddie? Did you talk to Eddie?”

You blink, putting down your fork. This is getting into weird territory. Arms crossed atop the table. “Outside of the usual texts, not really. Was I meant to talk to Eddie about something?”

“No? I don’t think so. Why would you ask me if I talked to him?” He’s definitely cagey about something.

“You said he was avoiding you.”

“Oh.” The steam seems to leave Buck—whatever had him flustered is now leaving him embarrassed by his reaction. “I—yeah, I talked to him. He said it wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Okay. Did he say why he was avoiding you if you didn’t do anything wrong, then? That doesn’t really seem fair.”

“Um.” Buck clears his throat, taking a sip of his water. Puts his glass down, then takes another sip.

Uh oh, you think. Alarm bells ringing in your head. “Buck,” you say, because clearly, there’s something that’s bothering him.

“I uh—how much do you remember from when we went to the bar?”

You think about it. “Not much. I was kind of tipsy. We went out, got drunk, Eddie drove us home.”

“Nothing sticks out to you?”

“I don’t—oh, actually, there was that one girl! She thought Eddie and I were a couple and asked us if we were interested in a third. It was weird—but also kind of flattering, in a way? I tried to tell her that we weren’t actually together, but Eddie just said that we weren’t interested. She was pretty, though. I thought Eddie might have been interested in her for himself, but he kind of just brushed her off. Maybe he wasn’t in the mood.”

Buck blinks. It’s clearly new information to him. “Oh. What—what did Eddie say?”

You purse your lips, trying to parse through your already foggy memories of that night. “He just said ‘we’re not interested’, or something like that. When I tried to ask him about hooking up with her solo, he just said she wasn’t his type.” You shrug.

“Yeah, apparently his type is people he shouldn’t be with.”

You tilt your head, a furrow between your brows. This is unusual shade aimed towards his best friend. “What’s that supposed to mean? Did something happen?”

“He said he almost kissed you.”

You feel your stomach drop, mouth drying up. “I don’t remember that. Buck—I wouldn’t. If I—”

“I know,” he says. “I believe you. I also believe him.”

You swallow thickly. You remember being in Buck’s shoes—of finding out about a partner’s disloyalty to someone that’s supposed to care enough about you to not do that. “I—what should I—what do you need?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” your voice trembles, and you clear your throat. If he breaks up with you over this—you’d understand, but you know it would hurt.

“Do you like Eddie?”

You’re already shaking your head. “No. Not in that way. He’s our friend. He’s your best friend.”

“But could you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t—maybe in the same way that you could like someone else if you weren’t dating me.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Buck nods. Now that he’s talking, he’s unusually calm. Maybe he already processed his anger or panic.

“But I wouldn’t know Eddie if it wasn’t for you,” you add.

Buck smiles, and it’s soft, despite the situation. “I guess so.”

You swallow, tongue wetting your lips. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.”

“Are you sure? I can—if you need space—”

Buck shakes his head, getting up from his chair. He crowds into your space, tugging you into hug. “No. I don’t need space. I’m just thinking. Eddie kind of—he was beating himself up over it. Like he was making himself out to be a bad guy because you were drunk. But also because I’m his best friend and he didn’t think he was that kind of friend.”

“He’s not a bad guy.”

“That’s what I said to him.”

You look up at him, something soft and bittersweet. “You’re a good man, Evan Buckley.”

Buck leans in, presses a kiss to your forehead. “I love you,” he says. “Nothing changes that.”

“I love you too. And I’m sorry that it happened.”

You both finish with dinner after. You clean up, and neither of you speak about it anymore. You feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop—for Buck to speak up and verbalise the need for space, for a break; for something. But everything is smooth sailing.

You’re both in bed, Buck’s arm hooked around your waist, facing each other.

“What if you did?” Buck asks.

Your face screws up in confusion. “Did what?”

“Like Eddie?”

It does nothing to clarify your confusion, but you’re reminded, somehow, of Hen and Karen at the Christmas party. “Is that—is that what you’re thinking of?”

“Maybe.”

“It’d have to be a parallel universe.”

“Right. Because you wouldn’t know him if it wasn’t for me. What if there was a universe where you knew me through Eddie?”

“I guess,” you hedge, still confused by his thoughts. “If you believe in multiverses, yeah, there’s a lot of ‘what if’ potentials out there.”

“What if I—” Buck stops, licks his lips. Tries to start again. “What if I liked Eddie?”

Again, you feel that plummet in your stomach, but you swallow everything down, trying to keep your face composed. “Do you?”

“I don’t know. It—” Then he scoffs humorously, shaking his head against the pillow. “It wouldn’t be so crazy,” Buck whispers.

It sounds more like he’s repeating words that someone else said, than something that he’s saying to himself.

“Nothing changes for us.” Reaching out, Buck strokes his thumb across your cheek. “I promise.”

You try to believe him.

It takes a long time for you to fall asleep. And when you do, you only remember snippets of a dream—of standing in the moonlight in Buck’s loft, on the stairs leading up to his bedroom. Of leaning in close to Eddie’s lips. Of his arm around your waist.

You wake up feeling immensely guilty.

You can’t tell if this is a fabrication or a lost memory.

One night when you’re at Buck’s place, there’s an envelope addressed to you. Your name etched on it in blue ink. Something other than paper clearly inside it. From the shape of it, you think it’s a USB.

“Do we open it?” you ask Buck.

“No.”

You snap a picture on your phone, and text it to Athena.

Athena calls less than ten minutes later. “Do not touch it,” is the first thing she says.

“Okay. No touching it.” You put the phone on speaker.

“It was in your mail?” Athena asks, clarifying.

“Buck’s mail. I’m at his right now.”

“We’ll check the cameras around the building.”

“We know who did it,” Buck says, voice sharp. Angry.

“I know, Buck,” Athena says. “But we need evidence.”

When Athena comes by to take the envelope away, she suggests that you and Buck pack a bag for now. Accommodations can be sorted later.

At the station, they find out that it was, indeed a USB. Loaded on it were images. Images inside your apartment. Images of you, and Buck, and sometimes Eddie. Mostly you, alone. Your kitchen, your living room, your bathroom, your bedroom.

You feel sick.

Buck grips your hand tight.

“The break-in,” you hear yourself say. It feels like your heart’s in your head, thudding. “He put the cameras in during the break-in.” Nothing had been taken. You thought it was just to scare you. To play mind games.

“We’ll do a sweep of your apartment. In the meantime, you need to be somewhere else. Both of you do.”

Buck’s loft is compromised. With no address on the envelope, Ben obviously had to have personally dropped his present into Buck’s mailbox.

“I’m—”

“Don’t,” Buck says. “Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“None of this wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for—”

“Him,” Athena finishes. “You’re not the one that’s gone off the bender. He is.”

After you leave the station, you end up at Eddie’s. While you were against it, Buck had reasoned that if Ben knew were Eddie lived, he would have done something already. Based on the karaoke machine, the Grant-Nash residence was out, even though Athena had offered her place as a safe haven.

“I’ll be at Maddie’s,” Buck says.

Both of them only have one couch. Eddie already said that he doesn’t mind you crashing at his. And Buck says that outside of Eddie, it makes sense that he stays at her’s.

Buck presses a kiss to your temple. He turns his attention to Eddie. Licks his lips. “Listen…”

“I know,” Eddie says, when it seems like Buck can’t summon the words he wants to say. “I got it.”

Buck nods, pulling Eddie into a hug.

“Alright. Thanks, man,” Buck says.

“Take care, dude,” Eddie responds.

You both watch Buck get into his car before closing the door.

Eddie bustles around the house, heading into his room.

“Don’t do that,” you say, stopping Eddie from removing the sheets from his bed.

“I don’t mind. I can take the couch.”

You grab the pillow from his hands. Or—try to. He holds fast, and it catches between both of your hands. “No,” you say. “I’m taking the couch. You’re already doing me a favour by letting me stay. Just keep the bed.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Come on. You would let Buck take the couch.”

Eddie wavers.

“Eddie. Please.”

He relents, letting go of the pillow. “Fine,” he says.

You put the pillow back onto his bed. “Thank you.”

“I’ll show you where the spare sheets are.”

“Thank you,” you say again.

The first time they realise that they both need to go in for their shifts at the 118, Buck volunteers to take the day off. You say it’s a stupid idea, and that they can both work. Obviously, only if Eddie’s okay with leaving you in his house by yourself.

“Yeah, course,” Eddie says, like it’s nothing. Save for giving you a spare key like he did with Buck, you feel like he somehow trusts you the same amount.

Your library shifts are shorter than their ones, so after work, you have more than enough time to sort out dinner for you and Chris, and then meal prep for the next few days. Eddie, like Buck, rarely has time to cook. Apparently, Eddie can cook if he had the time to practice.

“I’m sorry for intruding, Chris,” you say.

“If you keep cooking this, you’ll be forgiven,” Chris says. His snark is almost parallel to Eddie’s.

“Deal.” You hold out a fist.

Chris bumps it with his own. “Does that mean you and Dad are dating now?”

You almost choke on your food. “Wh—no. No. I’m—I’m dating Buck, remember?”

“Oh.”

“I’m friends with your dad. Like Buck is friends with your dad. And I’m friends with him, because we hang out together.”

“Denny’s mom is friends with Dad.”

“Yes. Yes she is.” You’re not quite sure where this is leading.

“But she doesn’t come over. Or hang out with Dad as much as you and Buck.”

“We’re—um. Well, Buck and your dad are best friends.”

“So you’re best friends with Dad too?”

“Um. Maybe? By association, maybe.”

Chris chews on his food, thoughtful. “You know, Buck told me that I shouldn’t make more than one girl feel special at the same time.”

You blink. Then again. “I—is that what you think I’m doing? That I’m making Buck and your dad feel special?”

Chris shrugs, like he isn’t the one that introduced the idea. “Outside of Buck, the only people that stayed over were Carla and people that Dad dated. And you’re not Carla. It’s not your job to take care of me.”

“No, I guess not. But I’m not dating your dad. I’m dating Buck.”

“I know,” Chris says, cryptically. It feels too much like the conversation you had with Hen and Karen—like he knows something that you don’t. “Have you seen Gossip Girl?”

“Uh—yes?” You’re bewildered by the non sequitur. “It’s kind of a staple.”

“The new one. The reboot.”

“Oh. Then, no, I haven’t. I heard about it, though.”

“You should. There’s a ship in there you should look at.”

“Yeah? Which characters?” Because you’re sure there’s going to be a lot of them with messy ships and plots.

“You’ll know,” Chris says. Again, he’s cryptic.

“Are you even old enough to be watching that? Is there an age restriction on that?” You grab your phone, intending to search up the rating for it, at least.

“I have to go.” Chris scrambles away, and you tut, shaking your head fondly.

You clear up the table and do the dishes after dinner. When you’re done, you fall onto the couch, sighing as you, indeed, search up the Gossip Girl reboot. You don’t have the wherewithal to get into a new show, but it should be enough to search it on socials and see what the ships are.

And… okay.

You’re not sure what Chris was intending, and you don’t know if you want him to mean the three people ship or not.

You think about Buck saying that it wouldn’t be so crazy for him to like Eddie.

When he asked about you potentially liking Eddie, is this what he meant?

It’s—complicated. Essentially living with Eddie after the conversation, and that dream about kissing him is weird.

The USB situation seems to have put whatever awkwardness Eddie felt on the back burner. He no longer skirts around Buck, and doesn’t seem phased by you. You, however, are not in that boat, as much as you want to be.

On their shared days off, Buck tends to either hang out at the Diaz residence, or is utilised as a free babysitter for Maddie and Chim, not that Buck minds. On those days, you take yourself to the Buckley-Han house.

“So,” Buck starts, almost breathless as he opens the door for you. There’s something excitable in his energy.

“Hi to you too,” you say. “Is Jee here?”

“She’s in the bathroom,” Buck says. He’s—eager about something. “Anyway, I was making cookies. And I asked if she wanted choc chip, peanut butter, or snickerdoodle. And she said all of them. All of them, in one cookie dough batch.”

You nod indulgently, heading towards the kitchen. “Did you bake them yet?” If he’s on a sugar high, that would explain his energy.

“No, not yet. She said to wait until after she got herself cleaned up. She’s also said she’s a big girl and doesn’t want my help, by the way. She’s growing up really fast.”

You can’t help the smile, incredibly endeared. “You might want to check on her, though. Just—be sneaky about it.”

“The cookies.”

“I can preheat the oven for you.”

“No. The cookies,” Buck says emphatically. “Us. Cookies.”

Again, you’re bemused. “Buck—”

“What if we don’t have to choose? What if there’s a universe—and it’s this universe—where, where it’s you, me, and Eddie in one…”

“Cookie,” you finish.

“Exactly.” Buck presses a kiss to your forehead. “Think about it, but no pressure, okay? I’m going to check in with Jee.”

Buck disappears down the hall. You busy yourself with preheating the oven to distract from the fact that Buck definitely opened up—something on you. A can of worms; Pandora’s box. Whatever it is, you’re left flummoxed. You haven’t thought about Eddie in that way because you were with Buck. But if this is something Buck wants, you have no idea how to navigate it.

Not to mention, you think Chris was trying to point you down the same path by talking to you about the Gossip Girl reboot.

The three of you.

Like Hen and Karen said.

You’re distracted by your thoughts when Jee-Yun calls your name. Her footsteps are fast approaching.

You swing her up into a hug. “Hey, Jee,” you coo. You’ve haven’t met her in person yet, but more often than not, every time Buck video calls when he’s here and you’re at Eddie’s place, Jee is always attached to Buck, piping into the conversation with you.

“Buck and I made cookies!” Jee says.

“Yeah? What’s in them?”

“Chocolate chip, and peanut butter, and snickerdoodle! It was my idea.”

You entertain Jee in the kitchen as Buck bustles around, placing balled up cookie dough on the trays to be placed into the oven.

You’re done around the time Maddie and Chim come back.

“Hey,” Chim greets you.

“Hey, Chim.”

Chim takes Jee, who babbles about her babysitting adventures to him and Buck in the kitchen.

Maddie hugs you, corralling you into the living room to sit.

“How are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m—” You instinctively want to say that you’re okay, but you both know that you’d be lying. “Hanging in there.”

Maddie nods, sympathetic. “Are you sleeping okay?”

You shrug. “As well as Buck is, I think.” Too many times the two of you have stayed up, texting each other, then getting on call to keep each other company, long after the other occupants of the house have fallen asleep. You know it’s bad for Buck—working a 24 hour shift, and then not sleeping well after.

Maddie frowns, pulling you into another hug. “Athena’s working on it.”

You nod, but you can’t help but feel frustrated. It’s not her fault. It’s not anyone’s fault, except for Ben’s. “I know. Anyway, I should head out before it gets too dark.”

“Okay.” Maddie stands with you, joining Chim and Jee.

You head towards the entry of the house, Buck following after you.

“Hey,” Buck starts. He seems to have come down from the excitement he greeted you with, nervous. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung it onto you like that. And I—I love you. I don’t want you to think that I don’t, just because I’m saying…”

“I’ll think about it,” you offer, when he trails off. You pull him down to kiss him, soft and gentle. You bump your nose against his jaw. “I love you, too, Evan Buckley.”

Buck hugs you, kissing the side of your neck.

“No canoodling in my house!” Chim calls out.

“We’re not canoodling!” Buck calls back as you laugh.

“I don’t trust you!”

“Alright, time for me to go,” you say. You peck Buck’s cheek and call out your goodbyes to the rest of the house before you leave.

A week later, you’re settled on the couch, your phone glowing dimly on the lowest brightness setting. You can’t sleep, again. Buck stopped responding to your texts, so you assume that he fell asleep sometime past midnight. Your best bet is to stay up until your eyes droop and you sleep. It’s not much, but lying here, keenly aware of every noise the house creates makes you paranoid.

So, obviously, when you hear noise on the porch, you think it’s your active imagination.

But you hear shuffling outside.

You sit up, heart thudding away in your chest.

Checking the time on your phone, you see that it’s 1:01 AM. You know Eddie and Chris are asleep—there’s been no other sounds of movement in the house.

You stand, creeping into the kitchen to find the knives. You’re not stupid—someone’s breaking in. And whether it’s a random stranger, or Ben, you’ll be prepared.

You sneak out of the kitchen, hiding on the other wall.

The front door opens. Whoever is out there must have picked the lock. They open the door, footsteps coming in, then close the door behind them softly.

The tall, hulking figure walks further into the entryway.

You spring out, brandishing the knife. “Stay where you are!”

“Whoa! Whoa, hey, it’s me!”

“Buck?!”

Your wrist is locked in Buck’s grip, turning the knife away from him.

“Okay,” Buck says. “I can see this was a stupid idea.”

“Jesus, Buck.”

“I’m going to take the knife.”

The light flicks on, and you jump again.

“What’s going on?” Eddie’s voice.

Buck takes the knife out of your hand as you turn, seeing Eddie blink blearily at you. Sleep mussed, a furrow between his brows.

“It’s my fault,” Buck says. “I couldn’t sleep. Made a last minute decision to come over, but didn’t think to tell anyone since it’s late.”

“’S early, Buck. Really early,” Eddie says around a yawn.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says. “I’m going to put this back.” He strides into the kitchen, and you hear him jostle utensils before he comes back, empty handed.

“Are you okay?” Eddie nods towards you.

“Yeah. Yeah—I’m just… um, adrenaline, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. He inches closer, wrapping an arm around you. “That was really stupid of me.”

Eddie steps out further into the living room. “You guys can take the bed.”

You send Buck a look. Disapproving, almost. “Eddie, don’t do that. It’s your house.”

“You can’t both fit on the couch.”

“I was planning on taking the couch. It’s fine, Eddie.” Buck says, realising the predicament.

“No. Don’t be silly,” Eddie argues.

You adjust Buck’s arm, taking a hold of his hand in yours. You step closer to Eddie. “Hey, look—we’re—it’s late. We’re all tired,” you say, and you squeeze Buck’s hand. “We’ll all sleep better on a bed. We’ll share.”

Eddie blinks, mouth automatically opening to disagree. “It’s not a big bed.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“Eddie,” Buck says. He’s close behind you, but you don’t turn around; you don’t see what his face looks like.

Whatever it is, it makes Eddie’s lips thin, gaze dragging between you two. After what feels like a heavy pause, he finally nods. “Okay.”

You gently press your free hand against Eddie’s chest, ushering him back through the hallway to his bedroom. Every step you take, you feel Buck take them with you, your hands still linked.

You duck into the bathroom, letting them settle in first. Somehow, you’re doing this. You’ve decided to share a bed with your boyfriend and his best friend. Your boyfriend agreed to it—wanted this. You want it, you think. True to your word, you’ve spent the past week thinking about it.

When you leave the bathroom, you see Eddie and Buck uncomfortably laid out on either sides of the bed, as much space as possible between them. Buck briefly talked about sharing the bed during the lockdowns, and while you hadn’t known them then, you’re sure it wasn’t this awkward.

You trudge to Eddie’s side of the bed, yawning. “Move in, Eddie.”

“What—?” Eddie startles.

“Move in.” You grab the corner of the blanket, knee depressing into the mattress.

You know you haven’t left Eddie much of a choice. He can move, or you climb into bed on top of him. Eddie shuffles aside, allowing you space.

You briefly meet Buck’s gaze, nodding. Buck nods back, a soft smile on his face.

You tuck yourself under the blankets, turning onto your side, back turned towards them. “Good night, boys,” you say.

They answer in unison.

You’re a late riser, comparative to the two firefighters. You have no idea how they woke up, but you know that they’re being awkward about it.

“Buck, can you lock up?” Eddie asks. He’s not looking directly at Buck when he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” Buck says. On the other hand, Buck is trying to maintain eye contact with him.

“Thanks, bud. I’m going to drop Chris off at school first. See you both,” Eddie says. He barely looks at you, either, before he guides Chris out of the house.

“Well,” Buck says into the silence after they’ve left.

“What happened?” you ask.

“We were cuddling. All of us. I think he freaked out.”

“Yeah. I think we should talk to him. Properly.”

“Is it—is this something you want? Something you really want?”

You nod. You know Buck and Eddie would fall together seamlessly. You love Buck, and you can see that they care for each other, even if they’re not ready to wholly admit the extent of their feelings. You and Eddie, however—you’re not sure. You think you were honest when you said that you could like him. But you don’t know how he feels about you, maybe drunken almost kiss notwithstanding.

If your dream was a real memory, then it seemed like you were the one that tried to initiate it. And even if the dream wasn’t a memory, there’s no way you could platonically dream about kissing someone.

“We’ll make it work,” you say. “You’re going to have to talk to him, though. He might try and avoid you the whole day, again.”

Buck groans, rubbing at his face. “Yeah, okay, I’ll talk to him. I don’t think I can go through another 24 hour shift of that.”

You press a kiss onto Buck’s cheek and head out together, waiting for him to lock up. Even though you’ll find yourself back here when you’re done with work, you haven’t been given a spare key. Eddie keeps his one hidden in a flower pot out the front for you to use. It’s not the most secure system, but it works—it hasn’t gotten stolen yet.

You have a short shift—a few hours today, and a longer day tomorrow. You’re already done, and you’ve sent a text to Chris to try and see what he wants for dinner. He sends you two burger emojis, the eyes, and a question mark.

You quickly send back only if you don’t tell your dad.

That means no need to gather supplies to cook. Your phone is relatively quiet—you assume that Buck is busy. You’re not sure if Eddie is still intent on avoiding you, but you assume that he’ll be as busy as Buck. The TV is playing as background noise, trying to fill in the place. Usually, you would spend your downtime outside running errands, but you’ve been less keen on doing so since Ben.

The TV is the only reason you know about the fire.

There’s a horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach as the news anchor details the fire that started in the fire station.

You call Buck. It goes to voicemail.

Then Eddie. Voicemail, again.

Then Maddie.

“Hey.” Her voice sounds a little breathy—stressed, or panicked. “I was going to call you.”

“Is—I saw on the news. Is it them?”

“We’re sending other units to them now. The station’s on fire, but the unit’s accounted for. Everyone’s alive.”

“They’re alive,” you repeat to yourself. They’re alive.

“I can’t stay on the phone long, but Athena’s sending a unit to you. Go with them. Stay with them.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s Ben.”

There’s a ringing in your ears.

“He set the fire, but they’ll get him. He’s not getting away this time,” Maddie continues.

You swallow thickly, hearing her hang up as she apologises, citing that she needs to return to work.

There’s nothing you can do for the fire. The other station puts them out. The 118 suffered some burns, some smoke inhalation. On your request, the unit with Officer Williams takes you to the hospital that the 118 are taken to.

You send a few texts to Maddie and Chris, letting them know where you’ll be, and that you’ll be checking in with Buck and Eddie.

“Hey.” Athena inserts herself by you, tugging you away from the foyer. “You looking for Buck?”

“Yeah. What room?”

Athena nods down the hall. “Third room to the right. Listen—hey, they’re all alive, okay?”

Your attention drifts towards the commotion at the front. A cot is dragged through, paramedics rushing in, nurses meeting them halfway.

“Hey, look at me,” Athena says. She cups your face, turning you towards her. “We got him. He’s not getting away.”

“Is—was that him?”

“Yes. He set the fire at the station. Got caught in it. Eddie got him out.”

“Eddie got—” you let out a stuttered breath. “Did he get hurt?”

Athena nods. “Yes. But it’s okay—he’s going to be okay.”

“Okay. I—thank you, Athena.” You wrap your arms around her shoulders, and she squeezes you back.

“Buck’s probably going to be awake sooner rather than later. He’ll probably want to see you,” Athena says when you part.

“I—can I just ask for one favour?”

Athena raises an eyebrow.

“I just want to see Ben. Just once. Just to know he’s actually… caught,” you say. “You can literally stay with me the whole time. I just need to see it for myself.”

With a sigh, Athena leads you to Ben’s room. There’s an officer stationed at the door that exchanges acknowledging nods with Athena. You don’t go in—you stay by the window, watching as the doctors and nurses work on his burns.

Even though half his face is covered by seeping bandages, you know that it’s him.

You feel—you can’t quite put into words how you feel. Seeing him here like this, it’s abundantly clear that he’s just a man. Despite your fears, the paranoia, the nightmares, the mess that was created in his wake, he’s just a man. Hurt, burned—facing the consequences of his actions.

“Good enough for you?” Athena asks after a moment.

“Yes,” you say honestly, and you feel something in your chest lighten. He’s caught. You know once he wakes up, he’ll have nowhere to run. Between the police presence and his injuries, he’s stuck. “Good enough for me.”

Athena walks you to Buck’s room. “I’ll leave you to it,” she says, when she notices that he’s already awake.

“Thanks, Athena,” both you and Buck chorus.

You enter the room, the door closing behind you as you beeline to Buck’s side. You cup his face between your hands. “I was so worried,” you say.

Buck shakes his head, a hand enclosing around your wrist. He presses a kiss to your palm. “I didn’t know it was him,” Buck says.

“It’s okay—” you start.

“No, listen. I didn’t know it was him when he came to the station. It was in the middle of the morning. I thought he was some civilian. I didn’t—and, and, then Eddie went in back in to save him and recognised him.”

“You would have saved him anyway. Both of you would have. Even if you knew it was him.” You kiss his forehead. “It’s okay. Athena’s not letting him get away. It’s—” Your voice stumbles a little. “It’s over.”

Buck nods. “It’s over. You’re going to be okay.”

“And so are you.”

Buck shuffles aside, pulling you into the cot with him. It’s not exactly comfortable, but you curl up next to him. “I gotta text Maddie,” you say. “And Chris.” You take out your phone from your back pocket, sending updates to them again.

Chris responds to you.

“Carla’s going to take Chris here,” you summarise for Buck.

“I think Eddie’s in the next room.” Buck presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I can check to see if he’s awake,” you say.

“You should sit with him.”

You frown, twisting to face him. “What about you?”

“I’ll be okay. Promise,” he adds, when he sees that you’re about to say something else. “We’re figuring it out, right? With him too?”

“Okay,” you respond, after a hefty pause where you’re scrutinising Buck’s face.

He seems so sure.

“I’ll be okay,” he repeats.

You kiss his cheek before you climb off the cot, heading into Eddie’s room. Like Buck said, he’s in the next room. You settle into the seat next to his bed—Eddie’s unconscious, bandages wrapped around his arm. You’re sure there’s more on the rest of his body.

It takes almost an hour for him to wake up. By that point, Chris and Carla had arrived, and you had relinquished your seat to Chris, opting for one of the seats along the wall.

Carla leaves after the first hour after you promise that you’ll get Chris home after visiting hours are over.

“Dad!” Chris ambles towards the bed.

“Hey,” Eddie croaks out, wincing a little as his arm wraps around Chris. “How long was I out?”

“A while,” Chris says.

Eddie looks around the room, almost like he’s expecting another presence. You think he’s expecting Buck. Eddie stills when he sees you, swallowing thickly.

Your lips press together into a smile, nodding at him.

Eddie nods in response.

“I’ll get the nurses for you,” you say, heading out.

Eddie ends up needing to stay at the hospital overnight for observation. They release Buck, though, and you take it upon yourself to chauffeur him and Chris.

“Hey,” Eddie says, and his hand catches around your wrist. A part of you knows that there’s something he wants to say—something he’s been meaning to say, probably since he realised it was Ben that he rescued.

You pass your keys to Buck. “Get settled in first, okay?”

Buck nods, grabbing them from you. He strides over to the bed, squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, leaning into him for a hug. “See you, man.”

“See you, bud.”

Then Chris sneaks in to say his goodbye. They both file out, Buck kissing your forehead.

You drag the seat closer. “It’s okay, you know,” you start. “I don’t really expect any less from you.”

“But it was… Ben.”

You shrug. “And you get to sleep knowing that you saved him. That you’re a good person. You save people, Eddie. It’s what you do.”

Eddie shakes his head, and you know that he, too, has demons that he struggles to keep at bay. “That doesn’t make me a good person.”

“You are.”

“No. I—” He shakes his head. “It’s—I almost kissed you. You were drunk, and I almost kissed you. And that’s just as bad—”

“Eddie, no. Hey, Eddie.” You lean forward in your chair, catching his face between your palms. “Don’t say that.”

“You were drunk,” Eddie emphasises.

“Maybe so. But we didn’t. And you would never hurt me.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” you say. Your thumb smooths across his cheek, and he blinks rapidly. “It’s okay. I trust you. Buck trusts you. We’ll wait for you, and then we’ll figure things out.”

Eddie seems at a loss for words.

You smile reassuringly, pressing a kiss to his forehead, just as Buck did for you when he left.

“Good night, Eddie.”

“Good night,” Eddie whispers as you leave.

The drive home is relatively silent. Chris falls asleep, and even then, you still wait until you’re at the Diaz residence and Buck carries Chris into his bedroom before you tell him that you kissed Eddie’s forehead.

“Cheater,” Buck teases, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I was meant to talk to him first.”

“You were taking too long,” you say around the fast beating in your chest. This isn’t a wrong thing. You’re allowed to have this.

“Hey.” Buck nudges your cheek with his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And we also like Eddie.”

“And we also like Eddie,” you repeat. It’s a wild thing to admit aloud. In Eddie’s house, while he’s not even here.

“We’re going to make it work.” Buck tucks his face against the side of your neck, breathing.

“We should call it a night,” you say, abruptly remembering that Buck only just got released from the hospital. He needs rest. You rummage through the bags for the medication they sent him home with.

“I love you,” he whispers drowsily, after he’s had some leftovers and had gotten ready for bed.

“I love you too,” you say, tucking him into Eddie’s bed. It was an unspoken agreement that Buck would stay here with Chris since Eddie couldn’t.

Athena’s already claimed that your apartment is habitable again, but you convince yourself that Buck needs company from an uninjured party.

You both fall asleep.

The day that Eddie is released from the hospital is one of Buck’s days off, so he’s the one that picks him up to take him home.

Home is somehow synonymous to Eddie’s place, as much as Buck’s. You ended your lease at your apartment after the station’s fire. With the station out of commission, they temporarily split up and relocated the 118 to other branches, and you know that Buck isn’t taking it well—more often than not, he’s calling to voice his displeasure about how the 129 doesn’t work as well. You know he misses seeing his family.

Buck sends you a picture of Eddie on the couch, captioned with The eagle has landed. From how far it is, you can tell that Buck is in the kitchen. Eddie doesn’t appear to notice that Buck has taken the photo.

When you finish your shift at the library, you head to Eddie’s place—Buck has sent you many updates about Eddie’s slow recovery process, pictures of burns and changed dressing included.

“We’re matching,” you point out, gesturing towards the bandage on Eddie’s arm. You’re all in the kitchen, having just finished dinner. You took it on yourself to do the dishes despite Eddie’s protests. Buck’s drying them, while Chris finishes up his homework.

“It doesn’t count as matching if it’s not in the same place,” Buck says.

“I think someone’s jealous that he doesn’t have a badass burn,” Eddie muses.

You grin.

“What? Jealous? Why would I be?” Buck exclaims.

“Because we’re matching,” you say.

“You’re not matching!”

You meet Eddie’s gaze. “Sounds jealous to me.”

“Yeah, sounds like it to me too,” Eddie says.

“If you’re not going to help,” Chris pipes up, “can you all move along?”

“What d’you need help with?” Buck abandons the task of drying dishes to sit next to Chris.

“Careful, Buck,” Eddie says. They had already instated a ‘help, not cheat’ homework rule that Chris didn’t hesitate to take advantage of when Buck was around.

“I got it,” Buck reassures.

They don’t, but it’s entertaining chatter that you let wash over you. You finish up the dishes while Eddie rests at the table, watching you all.

By the time Chris is done, you’ve relocated to the couch since it’s more comfortable for Eddie. “You alright?” you ask. You know the burn wasn’t the worst of it—Eddie’s injuries included a sprained ankle and a bruised rib.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You didn’t have to come.”

“You literally did the same for me.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but then he nods his head, agreeing.

“We’re friends,” you say, even though the conversations you’ve had with Buck doesn’t seem to pertain to just friends.

Buck settles himself in between you two, being careful not to jostle Eddie too much. This mostly means that he encroaches in your space, and you adjust accordingly by half sitting on him.

“I’m not a seat,” Buck tuts, even though his arm snakes around your waist, not willing to let you go.

“Well, if it quacks like a duck,” you say.

Eddie shakes his head fondly. “You’re both impossible, you know that?”

“Lucky you,” Buck says.

Eddie inhales heavily, eyes flickering between the two of you. “So we’re finally talking about that?”

“Well,” Buck starts. He looks at you for help, even though he’s the one that started it.

“Not if you don’t want to,” you hedge.

“We gotta talk about it at some point,” Eddie says.

“Talk about what?” Buck says, playing dumb.

You elbow him. You turn to Eddie, feeling your heart beat wildly in your chest. “We like you, Eddie. As more than friends.”

Eddie opens his mouth, then sighs, hooking his arm over the back of the couch, turning towards the hallway that leads into the room. “Christopher Diaz!”

You watch as Chris ambles out of the hallway, sheepish—too immediate of a reaction to have come out of his room.

“What did we say about eavesdropping?” Eddie asks.

“C’mon,” Chris complains. “I’ve been waiting for you guys to get your shit together.”

“No swearing,” Eddie adds.

“Get it together, then,” Chris corrects himself.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Everyone knows, Dad.”

“Knows what?”

“The three of you!” Chris says, exasperated.

“Everyone who?”

“Hen,” you say, watching as Eddie’s attention turns to you. “Karen. Maybe Chim.”

“Maddie. So definitely Chim.” Buck adds.

“So it finally worked?” Chris asks you.

“I wouldn’t say it did. Yet. Maybe?” you answer.

“What worked?” Eddie asks. He’s confused.

“The Gossip Girl reboot,” you start to explain. “Chris told me about the show, and about a ship in there that I should look at.”

“Did you like it?” Chris asks.

“I didn’t watch it, buddy. I just searched it up.”

“Ship? What ship?” Buck asks. He feels like he’s fast losing the plot.

“There’s a three person polyamorous ship in the show.”

“Ship?” Eddie asks.

“A relationship. Ship for relationship,” Chris explains before you can.

“Oh,” both Buck and Eddie say.

You narrow your eyes at Buck. “Please don’t tell me you didn’t realise what ship meant.”

“I didn’t,” Buck says.

“You’re not that old to be acting like a grandpa.”

“Hey, Eddie didn’t know either!”

“Yeah, but we like Eddie, and he hates technology and therefore, TV shows.”

“I like telenovelas,” Eddie pipes in.

“You’re getting off track!” Chris interjects. “Have you worked it out—yes or no?”

“This isn’t really a conversation that you need to be present for, Chris.”

“I’ve suffered long enough.”

“Are you even old enough to be watching the Gossip Girl reboot?” Buck asks.

“It’s 14 plus,” you say. You had indeed searched it up when you last spoke about it with Chris.

“So that’s a no,” Eddie says, disapprovingly.

“You raised him on telenovelas,” you say. “Of course he’s drawn to the drama. Let him live a little.”

“Exactly! Thank you.” Chris gestures towards you.

“Don’t take his side,” Eddie says, playfully affronted.

“Someone has to. There’s three adults and only one me.” Chris looks between you and Buck. “Two and a half adults.”

Buck splutters as your mouth falls open. Eddie knows he shouldn’t encourage this from Chris, but he laughs.

“You meant him, right?” you say, pointing at Buck.

Buck tries to bite your finger.

Chris mimes zipping his mouth shut. “Actually, I gotta go.” He starts towards the hallway.

“And stay in there this time, yeah?” Eddie calls out.

“As long as you’re not being gross out there!”

You all wait until you hear the door to Chris’ room shut.

You cover your face to stop yourself from laughing.

“Okay,” Eddie starts. Then he shakes his head, attempting to start again. “This—I don’t—a three person relationship?”

Buck nods as you compose yourself.

“How does that work?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Buck says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“And you’re okay with this?” Eddie looks between the two of you. “Both of you?”

You nod. “We like you, Eddie. And if you have us, we want us to be a thing. All three of us.”

“All three of us,” Eddie repeats.

“If that’s what you want,” Buck says.

“You should think on it. It’s a big decision. We’re not going anywhere, no matter what your decision is.”

“What—so if I say no, we’re supposed to pretend like this conversation never happened? You’re still the two of you without me. You don’t need me,” Eddie says.

You get up from Buck. He inches closer to Eddie, and you perch on the arm of the couch, a hand squeezing his shoulder.

“I need you,” Buck says, as honestly and openly as possible. You know it to be the truth—in whatever way it is, Buck needs Eddie.

“Buck,” Eddie says.

“I do. I think I always have. I just didn’t know it. Until now.”

“I think,” you start, and Eddie angles his head to look at you, “ever since I met you, something changed. In a good way. I don’t think we were ever meant to be without you.” And, you think, if Eddie says no, you’re not sure how to get back what you had before, without this realisation. Without the idea of Eddie being a part of this too.

“Think on it,” Buck says. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

Eddie nods. “Alright.”

You both bid your goodbyes with Eddie before you leave.

The next few days—well. You’ve elected to give Eddie space. You’re still friendly, but the texts that you normally exchange throughout the day have dwindled outside of checking in on his recovery. Buck doesn’t see Eddie as often, on account of Eddie needing time off work, and Buck working at the 129.

You don’t want to push.

You and Buck are avoiding talking about it, and part of you thinks that you’re attempting to evade the natural consequence of Eddie’s rejection. That you won’t be able to navigate the relationship afterwards, despite promises that said otherwise.

It takes 10 days. The 118 is reopened in 10 days. Eddie returns to work in 10 days. You haven’t really seen Eddie outside of coming to his house after your shift for a meal and cleanup duty. You’ve already collected your things from when you were staying there.

They hold a reopening ceremony to celebrate the 118’s revival and everyone coming back to the station.

You arrive separately from Buck. It wasn’t a purposeful thing, but Buck had said that he wanted to drive Eddie, despite Eddie’s claims that his ankle was fine. And you said that you probably wouldn’t be ready by the time that Buck wanted to go, so you would take yourself later.

“Hey,” Buck says, a furrow between his brows. “Are we okay?” It took him a little longer to notice the gap between you, but he’s noticing it now.

“I don’t know,” you say, truthful. “I hope so.”

Buck nods, understanding. He pulls you into a hug. “I hope so too. I’ll see you in there.”

“See you in there.”

He kisses you before he leaves.

You’ll admit to yourself that you’re dressing up more than the occasion calls for. The outfit, the hair, the makeup. You’re not sure if it’s for Buck or Eddie’s benefit. Maybe both. The idea sends a thrill through you.

You take a moment to breathe after you park your car outside the 118’s house. You gather yourself, trying to force down the feelings of being silly and overdressed. Buck was in a suit when he left. You can only assume that Eddie will be too.

You recollect yourself and head into the firehouse. Hen is the first to meet you, folding you into a hug. “You look gorgeous,” she says.

“Thank you,” you say. “I feel overdressed.”

“Not at all.” She nods over to Athena, who’s wearing a backless silk dress. She’s stunning in it, mingling with Bobby, Chim, and Maddie.

Karen comes over to you both, handing Hen a champagne flute.

“You didn’t come with Buck?” Karen asks.

“No. I got ready later,” you say.

“Is everything okay with you two?” Hen asks. She rubs your upper arm.

You think about what Buck said before he left. “I hope so. I—we talked to Eddie.”

Both Hen and Karen perk up, rounding on you. “And?” They’re eager for more information.

You shrug. “Eddie needs time to think about it. I think… Buck and I are also feeling a little weird. We haven’t really talked about it, though.”

“Well, something’s definitely going to give tonight.”

“You think so?”

“When you’re dressed like that? Absolutely. You are going home with somebody tonight,” Karen says.

You laugh. “I already live with Buck,” you say.

“When did that happen?” Hen exclaims.

“After Ben. I know the cameras in my place are gone, but I just… didn’t see a point in the apartment anymore. Oh God, is this the moving in curse? Like—couples that move in and then are destined to break up?”

“No, of course not.” Karen plucks another champagne flute from the table, giving you one. “You need this.”

You down it.

“You’re fine. You guys will be fine. Eddie said he needed time, so give him time. There’s no way he’s going to say no,” Hen says.

“You don’t know that,” you say.

Hen only smiles gently. “It’ll be okay.”

You hug them both, making your rounds to say hi to everyone.

You feel eyes tracking you, following you around as the night progresses as you flitter between groups of people.

When you’ve secluded yourself by a table, Buck comes up behind you, arms wrapped around your waist.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers.

“Thank you.” You adjust yourself so your front aligns with his.

He leans down towards you, but you block the trajectory of his lips on yours with your hand.

He makes a complaining noise.

“Makeup,” you say in lieu of explanation.

Buck assents, lips moving to kiss at the side of your neck instead.

“I haven’t seen you all night.”

“I’m sorry. I got into my own head about Eddie, us, and everything with work. We haven’t really talked about anything.”

“We haven’t,” you agree. “We should.”

“We should.” Buck kisses your neck again. “I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“I’ll talk to Eddie.”

“He needed time to think. He’ll come to us when he’s ready.”

“I think he’s ready.”

“How do you—”

“Hey.” Eddie appears by you two. He’s wearing a dark suit, a turtleneck underneath. His gaze travels to you, eyes raking down, then up. “You look beautiful.” He takes your hand, lifting so your knuckles graze against his lips.

“Thank you,” you say, feeling breathless. You swallow, feeling like there’s something in your throat. “You do too.”

Eddie inclines his head, grinning. He lets go of your hand.

You clear your throat. “How was your first day back? Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. First day was fine. Everything’s back to normal.”

“I’m glad.”

“You should’ve seen him,” Buck says, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “He was amazing out there. It was like he never missed a beat.”

Eddie grins and ducks his head, shy. It’s cute, you think.

You feel like you can relax, now. The tenseness that you’ve felt for the past week or so has settled. Passed. Eddie’s talking to the two of you again; Buck’s here. You feel at ease, even if Eddie hasn’t said anything outright about his thoughts.

When the night wraps up, Eddie finds you two again, after having been waylaid into a conversation with Bobby and Athena.

“Hey.” He takes a hold of Buck’s elbow. “Can we—” He licks his lips, nervous in his hesitation. “Come back with me?”

“Yes,” Buck whispers as you nod.

Buck elects to leave his car at the station since he’ll be back here in due time; you’ll be the driver. You make another round to everyone to say that you’re turning in for the night.

Maddie, Hen, and Karen all shoot you knowing looks. They’re all definitely tipsy, if the giggles they share are of any indication.

“Have fun,” Hen coos, squeezing your cheeks. “Have sooo much fun.”

“I don’t need to know the details,” Maddie attempts to whisper, “but definitely update me because Buck sucks at that.”

“Okay. You guys have fun. I’m heading out.”

“One more for liquid courage.” Karen tries to pass over another champagne flute to you.

“I’m driving,” you decline.

They draw you into a hug before letting you leave.

The car ride errs on the side of quiet, but not awkwardly silent. Buck and Eddie murmur to each other during the ride. You don’t pay much attention, content to let their chatter fill the car as you drive. Eddie needing time to think meant that you didn’t get to see these two hang out as much. And seeing as Eddie had been housebound for the past ten days, Buck obviously hadn’t seen his best friend much either.

Once you’ve pulled up to Eddie’s place and get out, you all settle on the couch. Eddie grabs a few beers for you all, but they sit aside, condensation collecting on the outside of the glass surface.

Eddie’s eyes dart between you and Buck. “I’ve been doing some thinking. A lot of it, the past week.”

You’re patient, letting him speak.

“Whatever you’re offering, I’m in. As long as you’re both 100% about it too,” he says. His gaze flickers to Buck briefly, but it lands squarely on you.

“I’m in,” Buck says determinedly, before turning to you.

Eddie’s attention remains on you. He says your name.

“I’m in,” you say. You’re less sure than Buck, but you know that Buck’s feelings for Eddie is stronger than yours. They’ve known each other longer. Had years to build their friendship. You’ve barely started in comparison. You could love him, you think. With time. Maybe he feels the same way. You think he does.

Eddie shakes his head, not convinced. “This only works if you’re in it as well.”

“I am,” you say, trying to build the solidity in your voice. Your gaze flickers to Buck.

Eddie sighs. “Buck, can we have the room?”

“Y-yeah.” Despite his words, Buck hesitates before he heads into the hallway, ducking into the bathroom. The kitchen wouldn’t have provided much privacy.

“I get it, okay? It’s Buck; it’s hard to say no to him because you want to see him happy,” Eddie says. “But this isn’t something you have to do for him. It should be for you too.”

“It is,” you say. You think you’re the one that draws closer to him, closing the space that Buck had just vacated. You slot your palm against the side of his face, and Eddie leans into it, brown eyes wavering between yours. “I’m just—you’ve always been Buck and Eddie. I think the past few days, I’ve realised how much Buck needs you.”

“He needs you too,” Eddie says. “And I only want this if you want me too.”

Your lips part with a weighted exhale, and you notice his eyes track the movement. Oh. “I do,” you say, a whispered confession into the space between you. “Eddie, I do want you too. I just didn’t think you felt the same way about me.”

The space between you is nearly nonexistent. His lips mere millimetres from yours. Your breath catches in your throat. Your thumb smooths across the skin of his cheek.

You’re not sure when his hand moved towards your waist, but his fingers digs into the space there.

His head dips towards your shoulder, lips pressed there instead. “Okay,” he says, voice hoarse. When he stands, he takes you with him, knocking on the bathroom door as he moves into the hallway and past the bathroom.

“Bedroom,” Eddie says as Buck opens the door in a rush.

“Bedroom?” Buck repeats questioningly.

You reach out for Buck’s hand and tug him along.

You’ve barely made it past the threshold of the bedroom; the door barely closes before Eddie has you pushed up against the door, angling your face towards his. His lips are on yours, kissing you. It’s not a gentle thing, lips stealing your breaths. He kisses like a starved man meeting salvation. A hand against the side of your neck, thumb brushing against your jaw.

“Oh,” Buck breathes out, wondrous.

Eddie parts from you, drawing in a quick breath before he moves onto Buck. Fingers caught into the collar of Buck’s shirt, tugging him into a kiss that’s equally intense.

Oh indeed, you think. They’re beautiful.

Buck makes a whining noise in the back of his throat, drawing back to breathe. His forehead rests against Eddie’s, eyes closed. “I—,” he starts, then shakes his head. His palm rests against Eddie’s cheek, pulling him in for a gentler kiss, something that speaks to the years that they’ve spent dancing around whatever it is that they’ve only started to acknowledge.

Eddie’s arm snakes around you, tugging you close. You start to press kisses against his neck and along his jawline.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, breaking away from Buck. His eyes are bright in the darkness of the room. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Not yet,” you say, but you decide to indulge in some leniency.

Buck seems to understand without needing to speak. With Eddie still between you, Buck leans down, his hand moving from Eddie’s cheek to yours. “Hey,” he whispers, so achingly soft.

“Hey,” you answer.

“I missed you.”

Something hitches in your throat and you meet him halfway, lips pressed together. Eddie makes a noise, and you both grin into the kiss. Buck moves away from Eddie, crowding into your space. Hands tuck themselves under your thighs, lifting you up. It’s an easy thing for him, you know. He’s strong. You remember him moving the armchairs in his loft three times without breaking a sweat.

Your legs wrapped around him. He deposits you on Eddie’s bed, nibbling along your neck.

“Eddie,” you gasp out.

When he’s close enough, you yank him towards you, kissing him again. “How— God, Buck— we can slow down,” you say, and Buck detaches himself from your neck, but doesn’t move far from you. You both look at Eddie.

“Whatever you’re okay with,” Buck says.

Eddie clears his throat. “I kind of want to watch you two.”

Buck lets out a groan.

You grin. “You’ve been thinking about it? About us?”

Red blooms on Eddie’s cheeks, and you lean in to kiss flushed skin. “A—a few times,” he admits.

“Yeah?” Buck rasps out.

“Ever since I accidentally walked in on you on the couch.”

Buck leans in to kiss him again. “You’re perfect,” he whispers.

You kiss Eddie, then Buck. You can feel Eddie’s gaze burning. It’s addicting, you think. You don’t know how you could have gone without this. But you know, now, you don’t have to.

You wake up pressed up against Eddie. Buck is curled against Eddie other side. still asleep.

Eddie is awake, and he notices you regain consciousness. “Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey.” You settle against his warm body. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just—wondering how this is my life now.”

“Yeah.” You nose against his jaw as his fingers card through your hair. “You have an answer yet?”

“Nope.” Eddie kisses your forehead. “I gotta get breakfast for Chris.” He attempts to get up, but Buck’s arm is fixed around Eddie’s waist.

Buck lets out a noise of complaint, tightening his hold around Eddie.

“Buck,” Eddie chuckles. “C’mon, man.”

“No,” Buck whines.

“Little help here?” Eddie asks you.

“The man says no, Eddie,” you grin. But you climb over Eddie, inserting yourself between them. Buck wraps him arms around you instead, letting out a content sigh.

“Alright. I’ll see you both in the kitchen.”

You both make an acknowledging noise.

“You okay?” you ask, after Eddie heads into the bathroom to get himself refreshed.

“Perfect,” Buck says. He’s more awake now, pulling you on top of him. “We get to have this.”

“We do,” you agree. You’re all in various states of wondering how this came to be, but you wouldn’t exchange it for anything.

Distantly you remember that you should update Maddie and Hen about this. That’s a later problem, you decide.