Anette

"Dig in, guys. I'm going to wash up before I join y'all." You give the 118 a beaming smile before walking down the steps towards the showers.

Eddie's eyes follow you, a faint smile present on his face. When he belatedly snaps back to reality, he realizes that Hen, Chim, and Buck are looking at him in various states of amusement.

"What?" He says, bringing a forkful into his mouth. He's met with a burst of flavour on his tongue. Damn, you're good.

"How long are you going to be pining after her?" Buck asks bluntly. It was the wrong moment to ask that, because Eddie had decided to put maple syrup onto his French toast just that second, and he squeezed the bottle a little too hard in a panic - sending drops onto Chim's face. Chim barely reacts, using his tongue to lick up the syrup as he continues to eat like a starved man.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about." Eddie laughs nervously, shoveling more food into his mouth in attempts to stave off this conversation.

Hen looks at Eddie then, knowledgeable and soulful brown eyes on his that makes Eddie want to confess every secret in the world.

Eddie sighs eventually. "I don't know how to ask her out. I haven't dated in a while, and I don't even know if she feels the same way."

The three others exchange a look that Eddie isn't able to decipher, when Eddie feels a hand on his shoulder.

"I have a very strong feeling your feelings are reciprocated, Eddie. Just be yourself." Bobby says kindly. Eddie is stunned, because if one of the closest people in your life can say that, maybe he has a shot after all.

Eddie swallows down the rest of his orange juice, before heading downstairs in search of you. He almost runs directly into you as you come out of the locker room.

"Whoa, hey!" You laugh, putting your palms on Eddie's stomach in an attempt to prevent a human crash.

Both of your bodies are extremely close, closer than you've ever been in the past few years. You realize after a second that your hands were still on his very, very firm abdomen, and drop them.

"Sorry." You chuckle nervously.

"Please don't ever apologize for touching me." Eddie mumbles, then blinks. You don't think he meant to say that out loud.

"Hey... would you want to go out to dinner with me? Just me? Like, as a date?" Eddie asks. Nailed it. He thinks to himself, self-deprecatingly.

Your smile is soft, sweet, and hopeful. "I'd love to, Eddie. When were you thinking?"

"How about tonight?"

You furrow your brow. "We're doing a 24 today, Eddie. We'll still be working."

Eddie smiles. "Don't worry. I'll find a way."

"Eddito! Come, come, sit." Pepa says, beckoning him towards an empty chair, a chair conveniently next to yours.

"Let me just... wash up, first okay?" Eddie tells Pepa, tilting his head towards the house to ask her to follow him, all the while giving you an apologetic smile. You, to your credit, don't react. In fact, you were looking at him with a distant politeness, as if the two of you hadn't spent an entire night in between sheets four years ago. You were looking at him like he was a stranger.

Why did that bother Eddie so much?

"Tía! What did you do?" Eddie hisses low, chancing a glance behind him to make sure you were out of earshot, while ushering his aunt further into the house by her elbow.

"Eddie, she's such a nice girl! She's the niece of the couple who moved in next door. Who better to set her up with than my own nephew, huh?"

"Tía..." Eddie starts. He isn't quite sure how he's supposed to explain that he already knows that nice girl. That they had met already in the months after Shannon's death, when Eddie was angry at the world. That the night they spent at the bar was the most he had laughed in weeks - not to mention the amazing sex that the two of you had afterward. Eddie had left your house in the middle of the night, when the guilt that he was having fun with someone while the mother of his child was not even cold in her grave started eating him up from the inside.

"Why don't you take her out for a coffee? See if the two of you have anything in common?"

Which brought Eddie and you to right now: the two sitting stiffly in the bustling coffee shop, unasked questions hovering around the two of you like a vice.

"I'm sorry." Eddie says, eventually.

You raise an eyebrow, guard all the way up. "You had four years to apologize for ghosting me, Eddie."

Eddie fights the urge to smile. He remembers that you took no shit even back then, and he had liked it. It seems like nothing had changed.

"I know." He exhales deeply. "It's not an excuse, but I had just lost my ... ex-wife, the mother of my kid, not too long before we had met. I was struggling in a lot of ways, so I did what I thought was the easiest way out - I ran."

Eddie sees how you soften immediately, eyes filling with understanding. You take a beat to think, before outstretching your hand towards him. "How about we put all that behind us, then. Hi, my name is Y/N."

Eddie chuckles, something warm and light filling his chest. He shakes your hand. "Eddie. It's nice to meet you."

Later that night, the two of you are trying to catch your breaths while in bed, clothes strewn about across your room.

You giggle euphorically. "It's nice to know we're still good at that."

Eddie laughs, pulling you close to rest your head against his bare chest. "This time, there won't be any running though."

"Good."

It starts soft.

Because Eddie Diaz is always soft.

He kisses you like he’s scared you’ll break. Holds your waist like porcelain. Asks if you're okay every time he touches you like the answer might change between breaths.

But tonight?

You want more.

So you whisper it.

“Don’t hold back.”

He pauses.

Eyes on you. Still. Sharp. Dangerous.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do.”

His jaw clenches.

“I mean it, Eddie.”

Something flickers behind his eyes.

You don’t realize how tightly he’s been reining himself in until he finally lets go.

And suddenly? You’re not in control anymore.

“Get on the bed.”

His voice is low. Rough. So different from the Eddie you’re used to, it sends heat straight through your chest.

You hesitate for a second.

Then he tilts his head.

“Now.”

You obey.

He doesn’t smile.

Doesn’t kiss you this time.

Just pulls your shorts off in one motion and tosses them across the room.

“You want me to stop being careful?” he murmurs, crawling over you slowly. “Then don’t beg for mercy when you get exactly what you asked for.”

Your breath catches.

He spreads your legs. Drags two fingers through your folds.

“So wet already.”

You gasp when he slips them inside—deep and slow.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he mutters, watching the way your hips twitch. “And you’ve been letting me go easy on you like a good girl.”

You moan.

He pumps his fingers faster.

“But that’s not what you are, is it?”

You bite your lip.

He slaps your inner thigh once. Not hard. Just enough to make your breath stutter.

“Answer me.”

“I want it, Eddie.”

He groans.

Then?

He pulls his fingers out, sucks them clean, and flips you over like you weigh nothing.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow.”

You arch back against him.

“Good.”

He grins. Dark. Dangerous.

Then he grips your hips, lines himself up, and slams into you.

You scream.

He doesn’t give you time to adjust. Just pounds into you with a rhythm so deep and rough your entire body shakes.

“This what you wanted?” he growls, one hand wrapping around your throat as he fucks you harder. “This what you’ve been begging for?”

“Yes—yes—Eddie, fuck—”

“You like being fucked like this?” he snarls, slapping your ass once, then grabbing it to pull you back onto him even harder. “Like a cockdrunk little slut?”

You whimper.

He leans down. Bites your shoulder.

“You’re so fucking good when you stop pretending you’re innocent.”

He slides one hand down—rubs your clit fast, relentless—and your orgasm hits like a truck.

But he doesn’t stop.

He just fucks you through it.

You scream again. Your legs give out.

“Stay up,” he pants. “We’re not done.”

“Eddie—please—”

“You begged for this. You take it.”

He flips you back over, drags you down the bed, throws your legs over his shoulders, and starts fucking you harder.

You’re shaking. Sobbing.

He watches every second of it.

“Look how wrecked you are,” he growls, staring at the way your tits bounce, the way your face twists. “Fucked stupid and still begging for more.”

You moan.

“You want me to come inside you?” he asks, voice wrecked.

“Yes—please—want it—”

“Then take it.”

He slams in one last time and comes deep. Groaning. Grinding into you as he fills you up.

And when he’s done?

He stays there.

Buried inside you. Breathing hard. Holding your face like he didn’t just ruin you.

Then he finally says it.

“I’ve been dying to fuck you like that.”

You laugh. Wrecked. Shaking.

You were overstimulated, hormones filling your body, making emotions feel way larger than they need to be. If anyone breathed wrong or looked at you for too long, irritation set in. You had been short all day, mostly quiet. It was better to stew than take it out on undeserving people, especially those injured. 

You got off at 8, thankful this week you had managed to get 8-hour shifts. You were ovulating, which meant your breasts were sore, smells intensified, and you were hot. God you felt like it was 105 degrees out, even in the air conditioned hospital. 

Chris would be in bed right now, and your husband, Eddie would be arriving home shortly after you. You wanted to shower and find food that didn’t make you feel nauseous, something other than crackers and juice that you had been forcing yourself to eat throughout the day. 

As you walk into your home, the smell of chocolate and brown sugar hit your senses. You inhaled deeply, relieved to smell something that didn’t make you want to throw up. After taking your shoes off, you trotted into the kitchen. Carla was sitting at the dining room table on her laptop. She looked up at you with that warm welcoming smile. 

“How was your shift?”

“Not too bad, just long. Felt sick.” You half tell the truth, not wanting to cross a potential line of sharing you were ovulating. 

“Are you okay?””

“Yeah, I’m good. Just need to find something to eat.”

“I made garlic parmesan chicken pasta.”

“That actually sounds amazing right now.” You pad over to the fridge, opening it to search for the food container. “How are you doing, Carla?”

“I’m doing good. Chris and I went to the park after school- it was so nice out and I couldn’t miss out on the moment for some fresh air.”

“I don’t blame you.” You weren’t hungry in the car on the ride here, but the thought of carbs had your stomach grumbling, eager to get something other than plain foods in your stomach. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you and your cooking?”

“‘Maybe.” You open the cabinet for a plate as she replies. “It’s always nice to hear it, though, so say it however many times you’d like.”

“Noted.” You laugh, spooning a heaping serving of the dish onto your plate to pop in the microwave.

After you finished your food and conversed with Carla, she bid her goodbyes. You were glad to decompress from work when Carla was around. She always managed to make you smile, as if she knew just when you needed to laugh. Carla was good at reading people and responding to their needs, something you appreciated when you were home. You spent all day doing it for others and it was nice to be taken care of, too. 

You step into the living room, applying product to your towel dried hair when a pair of headlights shine through the windows. Excited, you cross the room, throwing the door open to step outside. Your husband steps out of the truck, and he looks beyond exhausted. Still, a sleepy smile meets your wide grin. 

Bare feet on the concrete, you meet him halfway, throwing your arms around his torso. He lets out a soft ‘oof’ as you fly into his torso, face pressed against his chest. All of your anxieties, irritations are soothed as his strong arms wrap around you, his scent enveloping you. Suddenly, a primal, urgent need to have him everywhere washes over you.

You don’t just crave Eddie. You need him, not just to feel good, but to feel seen. You want his reassurance, to be grounded with the comfort of his body. To melt in his touch after a long day of pretending you weren’t battling waves of emotion in your body. 

The next thing Eddie knows, you have him by the arm, nails digging in as you drag him into the house. His bag drops to the floor, boots kicked off as you attack his neck, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin of his neck. 

“What has gotten into you?” He groans, his hands mimic yours, the two of you roaming the expanse of each other’s body, every muscle, every curve. 

You were craving him, not just his body but that emotional connection, the need to be close, to chase away the tension of the day, to appease the hormones causing inner turmoil. 

“Horny.” You breathe out, stumbling backwards, your lower back hitting the edge of the couch. Eddie takes the lead, steadying you as you continue towards your bedroom. Greedily, you slip your hands under his shirt, shoving it upwards. He complies, lifting his arms above his head. You toss the fabric to the side, towards the laundry room down the hall. 

“Ovulating?”’ Eddie grins as you enter your room, closing the door before shoving him towards the bed. You’d been trying for the baby for the past three months, and anytime you felt even just a smidge of arousal, you took advantage of the opportunity. 

Falling back, he maneuvers himself on the bed before pulling you down on top of him.

“Ovulating.” You confirm, already kissing down his torso. His hand combs through your hair. 

“Come here.” He orders, voice dropping an octave. 

You glance up at him through your eyelashes, fingers already working on unbuttoning his jeans. He receives a whimper, a mix between arousal at his dominant side and a sound of protest. You could salivate on his cock all night, body aching to worship him. To take care of his cock like the good little wife you are. 

“Don’t want to waste a drop.” His voice softens slightly as he sees tears welling up in your lust blown orbs. The moment he saw the glimmer in your eyes, he knew that this wasn’t just ovulation. It was everything that had been bothering her, spilling over, seeking for him to hold her together. 

“Cariño, just want to kiss my wife and make her feel good, take care of her.” 

You lip quivers as you try to smile. But it doesn’t work, because soon you’re on top of Eddie, clinging onto him as you break down.3

“Oh mi amor. Eddie coos, kissing the top of your forehead as he runs his hand across your hair, his other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, showing no signs of letting go until you’re ready. “Been so emotional today, haven’t you? It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.”

“‘Y-yeah.” You blubber. “Missed you an-and Chris.”

“We missed you too. My wife was so strong today, all those hormones and you still were a badass.”

“I-I don’t know abo-about that.” 

His fingers slide down the side of face, cupping your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are soft, welcoming you into his oasis. He is the calm you’re seeking.. When he takes a deep breath, emphasizing his face for you to join him, you start to take deep breaths. 

“That’s it, doing so good for me.” His tumb wipes over your upper lip, wiping away the salty tears before leaning in for a kiss.

“‘Beautiful. Smart. Caring. Kind.”

He presses his lips into a firm kiss with each word of affection, each word reminding you that you were loved, regardless of the hormones, the exhaustion, the tears. 

And the way he’s looking at you? You’re the only girl in the world. His world. 

You could have been covered in dirt and blood, and he’d still be all over you, showing you just how much he desired you. 

And that sparks that fire deep in your stomach all over again. You sit up straight, pushing up to rest on your knees as you continue to tug his zipper down. He scoots upwards, grabbing a few pillows to prop himself up. 

When you get the button and zipper undone, your husband helps shove them down his thighs. You pull your thin shorts to the side, hovering over his cock. Fingers wrapped around the middle of his length, you coat him with your arousal, teasingly letting your folds brush over him, the mushroomed head of his cock grazing your slit. You’re so horny that you’re sure you could cum just from this. 

But the deeper, more primal urge in you? You want to sit on his cock and ride him like a mechanical bull, using him for your own personal pleasure. 

Eddie seems to be on the same page. His head lulls back, stretching his neck back for you as you bury your head in the crook of his neck, teeth and tongue grazing at his pulse point. Meanwhile, his hands dig into your thighs, halting your hips. 

“Please, sweetheart.” Eddie says, trying to sound firm in his request only for it to come out as more of a plea for you to end the teasing. 

The moment you sink down onto him, you sigh out of relief- not only your body but your heart, your soul. You lean forward, pressing your chest against his, wanting to connect with him. To assure the other that you were fully theirs. 

You shove your tongue into his mouth as he helps you take him all with each bounce of your hips. Your hard nipples rub against his pecs, and although they are stinging with sensitivity, the pleasure creates a tolerable burn that has your pussy to get even wetter, if possible. 

Eddie and you work in tandem, him pushing his hips upwards as you push down against him, impaling your cervix and that spongy area inside of you. 

The area that only Eddie seems to satisfy. 

Even your toy, with your guidance, doesn’t feel as good as having your husband’s cock. 

Maybe it was in your head. 

Or maybe Eddie was just that good. Like he was made to please your pussy. 

You clench at the thought. 

“Fucking hell, so tight tonight, soaked. God you’re practically dripping onto my balls.” Eddie pants. 

One of his arms stays firmly wrapped around your lower back, the other moving upwards, cradling the back of your head. He holds you firmly, anchoring you to him as he helps everything else inside of you unravel.

Eddie starts pistoning upwards into you, holding you in place against him. You collapse forward in pleasure, taking the hammering of his cock into your tight hole. You rest your mouth by his ear, rewarding him with loud whimpers and moans of his name. 

“Eddie, please!” You try to stay quiet, but the way that the coil in your stomach tightens with each fast, hard calculated jab into your walls, you lose the ability to hold back. “Fuuuck, feels so good daddy!”

“Oh god, I know.” He rasps back, turning his face to nuzzle against your neck. Perspiration coats your skin. He whispers your shared hopes into your skin, lips vibrating against your pulse point, driving the wish into you with each thrust. “Gonna have a baby. Gonna fuck my seed so deep into your womb that you’ll have no choice but to take this time.”

“Yes Eddie, please.” You’re desperate, moaning out the request softer, more sensual this time. “Give me a baby.”

Eddie pulls back, his eyes racking over your face, your body. The heated movements have stilled, the mood shifting into a more passionate, doting one. 

This wasn’t just about trying for a baby anymore. You wanted him to claim you, thread you together with a baby. 

You roll over onto your back as Eddie cages you in with his forearms. Your lips meet, still as heated as before, and Eddie wastes no time lining back up before pushing into you. 

You feel the love with every slowed thrust, every praise whispered, every promise to love you and give you both a baby a vow of dedication.

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him in, holding him as deep as he can get with each thrust into your core. Your foreheads, pressed together, breathing each other in with each kiss, moan, and gasp of air. 

When his thumb rubs your clit just the way you like it, your hips start to buck upwards. He leans further against you in an attempt to hold your hips down. For you to take the pleasure he is giving you.

With his name on your tongue, you tumble over the edge of pleasure, walls squeezing in as the pressure becomes too much.

You gush around his cock, so tight that you may as well be pushing Eddie out. But he keeps dragging his hips back before pounding back into you, helping to prolong your orgasm. But it wasn’t just a release, it was a moment of shared pleasure, bonding you together.

“I’ve got you, that’s it. I’ll always have you.” He praises while his hips stutter, on the edge of falling into bliss with you.

He spills into you shortly after you finish, holding on until your pussy doesn't have a total death grip on him, to paint your walls. He gives a few more good thrusts after he empties his balls, pushing it against your cervix. 

When he finally collapses on top of you, you let your legs rest to the side of his hips. You stay there, lying beneath him, full of his love, his warmth, and your shared hope for the future. 

Eddie lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. It’s full of love 

“I love you.” 

You smile, leaning down to kiss his sweaty forehead, pushing the brown locks sticking to his skin back out of his face. 

“I love you too, Eddie.” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut. You’re perfectly fucked out, full and relaxed. “Two weeks to see if it worked.”

“Baby, I’m 99% confident it worked this time.” He’s cocky, sure of himself. Sure of your body and his swimmers. You giggle. “If not, I’ll buy you that purse you’ve been eying but won’t buy.”

“Okay.” You stick your pinky out for him. You wrap them together, squeezing tightly. “You’re on Diaz.”

***

Ten days later, you take a pregnancy test as soon as you get to the hospital. You become busy, wrapped up in a few cases and don’t get the results back until later that night. When you’re sitting behind the nurses desk, snacking on some goldfish, Macie comes around the corner with your lab results. The paper confirms that you are, 

Macie tells you that the lab results indicate that you are, in fact, pregnant. You glance up from the word staring back at you, staring at her in shock. She congratulates you, neither of you able to wipe the joy off of your face. A warm glow brightens your skin, cheeks red from smiling. 

Early the next morning, you take the paper home. You folded it in half, writing Eddie in cursive. He’s still asleep in bed when you jump onto the mattress next to him, shoving it in his face. Sleepily, he unfolded the paper, squinting. You watch his eyes fly across the paper, reading each lab result. Then he lands on the hCG levels, which reads 28 mlIU/ml with the word Pregnant to the side, he breaks out in laughter. 

You’re pushed onto your back, face peppered with kisses, the two of you giggling as you bask in the happy news. 

“I told you!” Eddie rolls to the side, his way larger hand resting on your lower abdomen. You lace your fingers with his palm pressed to his knuckles. “We’re having a baby!”

“We’re having a baby.” You repeat, turning your head to memorize Eddie’s face as he takes in the news of your first shared baby. “Chris is going to be a big brother.”

“He’s going to be ecstatic.” Eddie leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “Ugh, this is the best news, cariño!”

Eddie rests his chin on the top of your head, his leg pinning you in place. The occasional giggle comes from both of you as the serotonin rushes through your veins. 

“You were right. This last time worked.”

“Yeah.” Eddie responds. “But I was going to give you the purse regardless. It’s hidden at the station. I’ve had it for about five days now.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Oh, but you love it.” Eddie purrs in your ear, now moving closer to your ear. His warm breath causes a chill to roll down your spine. “Except I didn't get the purse, I got it in a diaper bag."

"Eddie-"

"The mother of my children deserves to be spoiled. She works so hard and is going to be growing our baby, saving lives while doing so, until the very end, because that’s how she is.”

“Is that so?” Your eyes are full of mischief. Your tongue darts out of your mouth, wetting the corner of your lips before biting your lower lip. 

“It is- and it’s sexy as hell.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He groans, sliding the hand on your belly downwards, dipping into your scrubs. “Now Mrs. Diaz, let's get you into a shower and I’ll show you some good loving.”

“Yes please.” 

Eddie practically chases you into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind you. You didn’t even make it into the shower before you were propped up on the counter, his face buried in your cunt. You were already shaking by the time you got in the shower, and had to be held up when he had you bent over, pounding you from behind. 

It was a good start to your Saturday. Now you just had to figure out how you were going to tell Christopher and the rest of your family and friends. 

Wrapped up in your husband’s arms, you feel your heart growing, more than rady to add another baby to the world you’ve created with Eddie and Chris. You feel more complete than you ever have.

Eddie hadn’t meant for it to happen like this.

It started with a listing. Then two. Then three. And before he knew it, his browser history and his iPad were full of El Paso real estate and bookmarked school districts.

No words. No announcement. Just a secret contingency plan growing like ivy in the background of his life in Los Angeles.

At first, it was just a maybe.

But the truth was that Christopher had been distant ever since the Marisol fallout. The kid didn’t talk much about it—he didn’t need to.

The disappointment had been loud in other ways: the sudden move to his abuelos’ house, the lack of text replies, the cold stares when Eddie dropped off dinner on weekends.

Eddie had cheated. And no matter how you justified it, the damage was done. What was worse was that Christopher had probably seen him differently since. Less hero. More stranger.

So, when the thought of El Paso came up, it made sense. Be near his son. Rebuild what he broke.

But he hadn’t planned on Buck finding out that day at his house.

Buck had shown up unannounced at Eddie’s door, flour smudged on his hoodie and a box of still-warm scones and other baked pastries in hand. He looked like he hadn’t slept, eyes a little too bright for someone who claimed to be “fine.”

“I almost relapsed and called Tommy,” he said, not even waiting for Eddie to ask what was wrong. “So I baked every speck of flour in the house. Here, eat a scone,”

Eddie raised an eyebrow but took the scone with a nod of gratitude.

“You good?”

Buck walked into the kitchen like he belonged there—which, in many ways, he did.

“Not really. But I will be. Eventually.”

As Eddie sat beside him, taking a bite, Buck’s gaze flicked to the table.

“Why’d you flip the tablet like that?” he asked, smirking. “Kinda suspicious, man.”

Eddie stiffened, reaching for the device—too slowly.

Buck beat him to it, fingers curling around the tablet as he turned it back over and tapped the screen to wake it. His grin faded the second the listing loaded.

“Wait… you’re looking for houses?” Buck frowned. “With your budget?”

Eddie hesitated. “They’re not in L.A., they’re in El Paso”

Buck stopped short and looked at Eddie as if he had dropped a nuclear bomb on him, before he clears his throat.

“Jesus, Eddie,” Buck breathed, his voice caught somewhere between disbelief and hurt. “You were gonna move and not tell anyone?”

That same night, you came over for dinner. You always did when Eddie had a night off and you both needed a little breather from work.

The meal was warm, filled with laughter and touches—like most nights were with Eddie. You thought things were steady, maybe even building toward something more permanent.

He was warm with you. Attentive. Hands brushing over your back when you passed by, lips pressed to your temple. Nothing about him screamed ‘I’m planning to disappear’.

After dinner, you went to grab your phone from where it had slid into the couch cushions—and noticed the iPad sitting face-up on the coffee table.

You didn’t mean to snoop. But when the screen lit up, it was still open to a listing. And then another. All of them in El Paso.

Your heart sank.

Eddie walked out of the kitchen with two glasses of wine, but he stopped when he saw your expression.

You didn’t raise your voice. You didn’t accuse.

You just looked at him, tears in your eyes, and said, “Were you ever going to tell me?”

He paused, guilt spreading across his face. “I was going to. I just… didn’t know how.”

You stood up slowly. “You were going to move and never tell me?”

“It’s not like that—” he tried.

“It is like that,” you said, shaking your head.

“I get that Christopher is your priority as his father, and I respect that. I love that about you, Eddie. But you should’ve given me the decency of a heads-up, or I don’t know, you could’ve eased me into it by talking to me about moving.”

Eddie put the glasses down. His voice was low.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“And instead you disrespected me, when you know damn well I’d never hold you back and would support you every step of the way.”

The quiet that followed was louder than any yelling could’ve been. You looked at the man in front of you, the one who’d made you feel safe—wanted. And now you felt like a temporary chapter in a story that had already moved on.

You grabbed your bag from the counter and headed for the door.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for in El Paso,” you said, voice trembling. “But I won’t be the one left behind without a goodbye or be the person to fix you and meet you halfway.”

You didn’t look back and just decided to go home.

The knock on Buck’s door came just past 9PM.

He wasn’t surprised to see you standing there, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, eyes already glossed with unshed tears you hadn’t given yourself permission to cry yet.

You didn’t say anything—just walked in when he stepped aside, like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“Kitchen’s open,” he said softly.

You gave him a tired smile, slipping off your shoes by the door. The scent of cinnamon hit you first, then the sound of something bubbling in the oven. He was barefoot, hair messy, flour dusting his black shirt.

There was a gentle domesticity to the scene that made your throat tighten.

“I figured you might need sugar therapy,” Buck joked, grabbing a spare mixing bowl. “Or, you know, an excuse to destroy the kitchen.”

“I needed somewhere to go,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “Somewhere that wasn’t my apartment, where everything still smells like him.”

Buck didn’t push. He just handed you a whisk.

The two of you moved around the kitchen in comfortable rhythm—like you’d practiced this a hundred times before, even if you hadn’t.

You poured ingredients. He told you about a weird call from last week. You added vanilla extract. He made a joke about Ravi nearly setting the firehouse toaster on fire again.

You laughed for the first time that day.

“I can’t believe he was just going to leave,” you finally said, voice cracking as you sifted flour over the mixing bowl. “Not just L.A.—us. Me. Like it wouldn’t matter.”

Buck paused, hands still in the dough. He looked at you, really looked, and saw everything Eddie had failed to.

“You’d never hold him back,” he said gently.

“I wouldn’t,” you said, tears threatening again. “He should’ve just talked to me. That’s what you do when you’re partners. You make decisions together, or at the very least—”

“You’re honest,” Buck finished for you.

You nodded.

The silence was soft. Safe. Just the sound of the oven humming and a spoon clinking against glass.

“I didn’t expect it to hurt this much,” you added. “It’s not just the leaving. It’s how he didn’t even think I deserved a heads-up.”

Buck reached for your hand, sticky with dough. “He messed up. Big time.”

You looked down at your intertwined fingers, a little surprised by the comfort it brought you.

“I think I knew this version of him wasn’t forever. But I didn’t think I’d lose him like this.”

“You didn’t lose him,” Buck said, voice firm but kind. “You found out who he really is when it counts. And that’s not on you.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Why does it feel like I wasn’t worth the truth?”

Buck’s gaze softened. “Because you gave him your heart. But that doesn’t mean he knew how to hold it.”

The timer went off, but neither of you moved to check the oven.

For a while, you just stood there, wrapped in the quiet, breathing in the cinnamon and the safety of the one person who’d always shown up when it mattered.

It was a slow day at the station, unusually quiet for once.

Everyone had scattered into their corners of routine — Chim fiddled with inventory, Hen was writing up incident reports, and Buck… Buck was entertaining Blaze, tossing the tennis ball across the bay with a kind of frantic energy that hadn’t gone unnoticed.

You sat nearby, head down as you double-checked the trauma kit, hands moving but mind far, far away. You hadn’t spoken to Eddie since that night.

Not beyond clipped sentences at work. Not since you stood in Buck’s loft, clinging to the last of your composure, admitting out loud that the man you trusted most had made a decision about his future without even thinking you deserved to be part of the conversation.

The bounce of the tennis ball against concrete was steady—until it wasn’t.

“You’re not the only one who knows how to leave, you know,” Buck said suddenly, loud enough for the words to cut through the room like a blade. His voice was tight, rough around the edges, a boiling point barely kept in check.

Everyone stilled.

Eddie turned from the lockers, his face drawn in confusion.

“What?”

Buck’s hands tightened around Blaze’s ball.

“I said, you’re not the only one who knows how to walk out when things get hard. You want to talk about leaving? Let’s talk about how you were ready to disappear without telling anyone—again.”

The words weren’t just meant for Eddie. They were for everyone in the room. Hen looked up. Chim’s pen stilled mid-signature.

Your chest tightened, fingers curling against the strap of the kit you were repacking.

“Buck,” Eddie warned quietly, glancing at you, then back to him. “This isn’t the time.”

“No?” Buck raised his brows, feigning surprise. “I figured since you didn’t have time to tell her you were moving, maybe now’s the perfect time for some honesty.”

Your heart pounded in your ears.

Eddie’s jaw clenched. “That’s between me and her.”

“Was it?” Buck asked. “Because it sure felt like it involved all of us when you decided this whole place didn’t matter anymore.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Silence fell again—crackling and tense. The kind that fills the air just before lightning strikes. You stood then, voice calm but cold as you crossed the room with the med kit slung over your shoulder.

“Cold shoulder today?” Eddie asked softly, trying to sound casual, like it was just another awkward shift between calls. But you saw the tightness in his mouth, the way his eyes flicked toward you for something—anything.

You didn’t give it.

“We’re still colleagues, Diaz,” you replied, tone neutral but firm. “I can’t let this get in the way of work.”

You stepped past him, the click of your boots echoing louder than the breath he seemed to lose when you stopped just short of the bay doors.

“And like you said,” you added, glancing over your shoulder, “you had no ties in California.”

The words were a scalpel. Clean. Precise. Cutting straight to the core.

Eddie didn’t chase after you. He just stood there, regret painting his features, his silence saying everything his words had failed to.

Buck watched him. For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Buck dropped the tennis ball.

“You really hurt her, man.”

Eddie swallowed. “I know.”

But the truth was — he hadn’t known how much until now. Until he saw you walk away without looking back.

The days after Buck’s public callout at the station were quiet. Not logistically — calls kept coming, the city never slept — but emotionally.

For Eddie, everything had dulled into a strange limbo.

The bay echoed a little louder, your laughter never rang through the common room like it used to, and Buck had taken up more space, not intentionally, but just by being who he was to you.

It wasn’t hard to notice the change in you. Eddie had always been good at reading people, and with you, it was impossible to miss.

You were still professional. You still responded to him during emergencies. Still stood beside him when lifting stretchers, still called out vitals clearly during triage. But it was the in-between moments that hurt the most — when your eyes slid right past him, or when your smile found Buck first.

And God, that smile.

Eddie hadn’t realized how much it meant to him until it was no longer his to see.

You’d been more withdrawn lately — not cold, not cruel, just distant. Like someone had hit the dimmer switch on your light and left you floating somewhere he couldn’t reach. He’d catch you zoning out in the rig sometimes, eyes on the city streets but not really seeing them.

Once, he swung by the loft to drop off something and saw you leaning over Buck’s kitchen island, flour in your hair and that familiar, easy expression on your face — the one Eddie used to think was reserved for him.

That image stuck with him longer than it should have.

But maybe, deep down, he knew.

You weren’t just seeking refuge in Buck because you were hurt. You went to Buck because you trusted him. Because Buck never would’ve blindsided you like Eddie had.

He had opened his loft to you like it was second nature — no questions, no conditions, just the kind of unwavering support that Eddie hadn’t thought to offer when you needed it most.

Jealousy wasn’t something Eddie liked to admit to, but it crept in nonetheless. In the glances you shared with Buck across the station.

The way you brought him coffee before anyone else. The way Buck’s hand lingered at your back in the smallest ways, protective, unspoken. The way you laughed again — not often, not yet fully — but when you did, it was around him.

Eddie didn’t blame you. Not really.

Because the truth — the part he’d never said out loud — was that he never would’ve met you if it weren’t for Buck.

It had been Buck who introduced you both, back when Eddie had first started letting people in again after the darkest corners of grief and therapy.

You were one of Buck’s longtime friends from before the tsunami — someone who had stuck through the messy aftermath of his recovery, someone who hadn’t been scared off by his highs and lows. He’d mentioned you more than once, in the way Buck did when he was proud of someone he loved.

And then one night after shift, Buck invited Eddie to a small get-together at his place.

You had walked in carrying a pan of enchiladas and laughing about the parking in his building, and Eddie swore the room tilted just a little.

You were bright. Grounded. Warm in a way that was quiet but deeply rooted. Not showy like the people Eddie had tried to love before.

Just real.

The first conversation had been easy — talking about food, Christopher, shared books. Buck had hovered nearby, excited like he’d accidentally set two puzzle pieces next to each other and realized they fit.

“He’s been through a lot,” Buck had told you when Eddie was in the kitchen grabbing a beer. “But he’s solid. And you… I think you’d be good for each other.”

And you were. For a while.

Eddie remembered thinking how rare it was to feel seen again. How your love didn’t come in fireworks, but rather in gentle mornings and shared silence that didn’t need filling.

You never asked him to be someone else. You never treated him like a project.

But Eddie had done what he always did. Pulled away when things got too heavy. Made decisions in isolation. Assumed you’d stay, even without offering the full truth.

Now, he watched from the edges as you poured yourself into someone who never made you question your place.

And Buck, for all his flaws, had always been there.

So yeah, Eddie was jealous. But more than that… he was ashamed. Because he’d had something good. Something real. And he’d thrown it away not out of malice — but out of fear. Out of habit.

Out of that old instinct to protect himself before anyone else.

Maybe this was just the part where he had to live with that.

Still, he couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering too long when you brushed shoulders with Buck in the hallway. Or when Buck made you laugh, really laugh, and Eddie could hear it all the way from the kitchen.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be the thing he regretted most when he left California behind.

Because no matter how close he got to Christopher in El Paso…

He had already pushed the best thing he’d had here — away.

That evening, Eddie paced his living room, nerves eating at him as he fluffed the throw pillows on his couch for the third time.

He didn’t like the idea of renting his house out to a stranger, but the move to El Paso had to be real. Permanent.

It wasn’t just about logistics — it was about Christopher, about putting down roots again where he could be the kind of father his son deserved.

Still, the idea of someone else living here — in this house where memories with you lingered in every corner — left a strange taste in his mouth.

A knock came at the door.

Eddie checked the peephole and sighed. Buck. Of course.

He opened the door, already exasperated. “Buck, listen — I’ve got a guy coming to view the place. He’s supposed to be here any second—”

But Buck was already brushing past him into the living room, eyes darting around like he owned the place.

“God, Buck, you’re so selfish,” Eddie snapped, louder than he meant.

“What is it now? I know this is about you, and I can’t make this any easier for myself, but you can’t make me choose between you and my son. Because if that’s the case, you’d lose every time.”

Buck froze mid-step, a bit stunned.

“W–What? No, Eddie— I get it, okay? I completely understand why you’d want to be with Christopher. I’m not here to argue that. I’m not trying to make this about me.”

But just as he tried to explain, another knock interrupted them.

Eddie groaned. “Get out. I can’t have you sabotaging this one again.”

Buck lifted a hand, voice pleading. “I promise, I won’t. Scout’s honor.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes and opened the front door — only to find Chimney, Hen, Bobby, and you standing on the porch.

He blinked. “What are you guys doing here? I have a renter coming over any second now—”

Chimney chuckled as he stepped inside. “You still haven’t told him?”

“Told me what?” Eddie asked, now fully thrown off.

Buck cleared his throat, sheepish. “So… not to make this all about me—”

“Oh my God,” Eddie muttered.

“—but it’s me. I’m your renter. I replied to your listing using a fake name.”

“You’re… Freddy?” Eddie looked at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Yep,” Buck nodded, hands behind his back. “Freddy Fakeman.”

Hen burst out laughing and Chimney nearly wheezed. “Freddy Fakeman? How’d you let that one slip by you?”

“It’s more obvious when you say it out loud, okay?” Eddie muttered.

“But—what about your loft?” he asked, baffled.

“It’s not mine anymore. I gave notice this morning,” Buck said simply.

“Now you don’t have to worry. The house will still be taken care of… by someone who already knows every squeaky floorboard.”

Eddie was silent for a moment, unsure what to feel. Buck, as always, had this way of showing up — chaotic, emotional, but somehow right on time.

Soon, the laughter faded and the team scattered around the house.

Chim and Hen went to check out the kitchen again, Bobby stepped out to take a call. Buck lingered by the window, quietly inspecting the curtains like he was already picturing them in his routine.

You wandered through the living room slowly, fingers trailing the walls, each step heavy with something unsaid. Eddie watched you — the curve of your shoulders, the quietness in your breath.

When the others stepped outside to give Buck some privacy, Eddie took his chance.

You turned when you felt his gaze, standing by the couch. His couch. The one you used to curl up on during long shifts, those rare mornings after staying the night.

“Hey,” Eddie said softly.

You nodded.

“I just…” he started, swallowing. “I know things haven’t been easy. And I know I deserve the cold shoulder.”

There was a beat before you looked up at him. You met his eyes then, but it didn’t soften the sting in your voice.

“We’re still colleagues at the end of the day, Eddie, and it’s not like I’m gonna give you the cold shoulder forever. Like you said — no ties in California, so, no hard feelings.”

That line hit harder than you’d expected. You saw it in the slight hitch in his breath.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispered.

You exhaled, folding your arms tightly.

“I know. But it’s what you said. And you didn’t even give me a chance, Eddie. You decided for both of us, and just… expected me to be okay with it.”

He didn’t argue. He just looked down, ashamed.

“I never wanted to hold you back,” you continued, voice smaller now.

“I would’ve supported the move. I would’ve understood. You just… didn’t give me a chance to show up for you. And that’s what hurt the most.”

Eddie stepped forward a little, heart in his throat.

“You’re right. I shut you out. I thought I was doing the right thing by not asking you first, because I thought I’d be telling you to uproot your life… but I realize now that maybe I should’ve come clean to you as a partner.”

Silence fell between you both — heavy, thick with everything unsaid.

You broke it first. “I shouldn’t have shut you out either. That wasn’t fair. I was hurt, and I let it dictate how I treated you. But I don’t want to carry that into whatever this next chapter is.”

Eddie nodded, something bittersweet in his expression.

“So… friends?” you offered, lifting your hand just a bit.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Friends.”

But even as the word left his mouth, Eddie couldn’t help but glance toward the window, where Buck stood talking to Bobby outside — Buck, who made you laugh again, who brought you comfort, who offered you his home when Eddie didn’t offer you a future.

Eddie shook the thought away, but it lingered at the back of his mind, unspoken.

Because as much as he told himself he was doing the right thing by leaving —

He couldn’t shake the possibility that maybe, just maybe…

He was leaving you behind too.

And this time, Buck might be the one waiting for you when the dust settled.

Later in the week, after another dinner (courtesy of Buck), once the rest of the team had trickled out and the noise of laughter and farewell hugs had faded into quiet, Eddie stood in the hallway of what used to be his house — now Buck’s.

The ownership had technically changed hands, but the emotional weight of the place still lingered in his chest.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed as he watched you and Buck in the kitchen, moving around each other like clockwork — the way your elbow gently bumped his as you passed him a mug, the way he instinctively shifted to give you space before you even asked for it.

There was a rhythm there. A familiarity.

And it wasn’t the first time Eddie noticed it.

He’d seen the shift after Maddie had gone missing — after that terrifying, silent stretch of time where everything felt like it was unraveling. That was when you and Buck had grown closer.

At first, Eddie had told himself it was just the trauma of it all, the need for comfort in a world that had briefly fallen apart. You were his best friend, after all. Who else would you lean on?

But now, standing there in the shadows of what used to be his home, Eddie saw it for what it was — energy. Something unspoken that buzzed between you both like a quiet static.

It wasn’t loud or obvious. It wasn’t romantic in the traditional sense, not yet. But it was something.

And it made something twist in Eddie’s chest. Not jealousy — not in the bitter, possessive way. It was more complicated than that. More human.

Because he knew you. Knew the way you loved, the way you gave without restraint. And he knew Buck too — the way his heart wore thin but big, how he crashed into things with everything he had.

He couldn’t blame either of you. He probably wouldn’t have met you if it weren’t for Buck in the first place.

It was Buck who introduced you to the 118 when you first moved to LA. Buck who dragged you to Eddie’s welcome-back barbecue after his recovery. Buck who always seemed to be orbiting your world in some shape or form.

Eddie blinked, pulling himself out of the spiral as you laughed at something Buck said — a soft, genuine sound that made Eddie’s chest ache.

He’d made peace with leaving.

But watching the way you looked at Buck — and more painfully, the way Buck looked at you — Eddie realized that some pieces of him weren’t coming with him to El Paso.

They were staying here.

In this house.

With you.

The soft hum of the air conditioning was the only sound filling the loft.

Jeeyun had finally gone down for the night — after a bedtime story that turned into two, and Buck pretending to be a very sleepy giraffe just to get her to laugh.

You watched the whole thing from the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, smiling faintly.

It was oddly grounding — watching Buck care for her like that. Like he was made for softness in a world that never gave him enough of it.

Now, in the kitchen, you were helping him tuck leftovers into mismatched containers and wipe down counters while a sleepy calm settled between the two of you.

“You didn’t have to stay this long,” Buck said softly, elbowing you gently as he dried a plate. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, eyes still on your hands as you sealed another container shut. “Didn’t feel like going home yet.”

He nodded, understanding. You always understood each other quietly like this.

After a beat, Buck cleared his throat. “So… remember how Tommy dumped me.”

You looked up, surprised by the sudden admission. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, laughing without humor.

“Said he didn’t see forever with me after I asked him to move in. Said he wasn’t feeling like I wasn’t all in and that it would end in heartbreak.” He leaned back against the sink, eyes on the floor. “I really thought he’d be the last one.”

You didn’t mean to — but you let out a soft, bitter laugh.

“Yeah,” you muttered, pushing your hair behind your ear. “Me too. About Eddie, I mean.”

Buck looked at you then. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too,” you whispered. “It just… hurts, you know? Because I thought he saw me. I thought he knew what we were building.”

Buck put the towel down and stepped closer, his voice gentler now.

“You did everything right,” he said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You looked at him, truly looked at him. And it struck you then — how many nights like this you’d had. How many times he’d been the one showing up, even when he was unraveling himself. How many times you’d felt safe here — not because of the place, but because of him.

“I was thinking,” you said slowly, “you and I… we’ve been the only real constants in each other’s lives. For years. Through chaos, breakups, breakdowns…”

He raised an eyebrow, cautious but open. “Yeah?”

“So maybe,” you continued, “we just try. And if it works, it works. And if it doesn’t…” you trailed off, letting the thought hang.

Buck stepped even closer, his eyes searching yours now, not with pressure, but with something tender — reverent even.

“We don’t let it ruin us,” he said, finishing your thought.

“Because you’re already home.”

Your breath hitched.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Because I already lost something I thought I’d have forever. I’m not losing my best friend too.”

And just like that, something shifted — not loud, not dramatic. Just quiet understanding. An old kind of love that had always been there, only now beginning to take shape.

Buck reached for your hand, his fingers warm over yours.

“We’ll take it slow,” he said. “No pressure. Just… honesty.”

“Okay,” you said, squeezing his hand. “Honesty.”

And in the soft light of the kitchen, surrounded by leftovers and a lullaby hum from the dishwasher, something new — and deeply familiar — quietly bloomed.

Eddie’s house was quieter than usual, stripped of almost everything that made it feel like him.

The walls were bare, the kitchen echoing, boxes stacked by the door.

You and Buck stood near the living room, watching as Eddie sealed the last box with a long strip of tape, his shoulders tensing slightly with the sound.

“Guess that’s it,” he said, trying not to meet your eyes.

You nodded, arms folded as Buck carried the last few bags outside to the truck. For a second, it was just the two of you again — the silence heavy with everything left unsaid.

“Thanks,” Eddie said, his voice low. “For coming. For helping.”

“You didn’t have to thank us,” you replied, your voice soft, but firm. “We were always going to help you. No matter how much it hurt.”

He finally looked at you then — like he was memorizing your face one last time. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” you said. “But you did.”

He swallowed hard, and you stepped closer, not in anger, not even in pain — just in peace. Acceptance.

“I respect why you’re doing this,” you added, “Christopher deserves to have you close. But the life I’ve built here… the people I love, the career I’ve made, my roots — they’re here. You knew I couldn’t follow.”

Eddie nodded slowly, regret flickering in his eyes like a shadow.

“I thought I could let go of everything to start over. But watching you and Buck… I realized maybe I let go of the wrong thing too soon.”

You gave him a sad smile. “Maybe. Or maybe you just weren’t meant to hold on to us forever. Chris needs you, Eddie.”

Buck walked back in, wiping his hands on his jeans and sensing the finality in the air.

“You ready?” he asked Eddie.

Eddie gave one last glance around the home that no longer felt like his, then back at you — eyes lingering a moment too long.

“Yeah.”

You all walked out together, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the driveway. Buck loaded the last box into the truck, while you stood off to the side, the wind tugging gently at your jacket.

Eddie turned to face you one last time. “Be happy,” he said, voice cracking just slightly. “You deserve that.”

“I will,” you replied. “I hope you find peace in El Paso.”

He gave Buck a brief nod and a hug before climbing into the truck, and as the engine started, a weight settled over your chest — not grief, not longing… just closure.

Buck stepped beside you quietly, his hand brushing yours, and you leaned into him ever so slightly.

Eddie pulled away from the curb with a final wave, and just like that, he was gone.

But as Buck wrapped an arm gently around your shoulders and the cold wind from the rain lingered, you knew you were exactly where you needed to be.

Not chasing what was lost — but holding on to what stayed.

Epilogue:

Eddie Diaz wasn’t used to quiet.

El Paso was filled with it — the stillness of empty rooms, the hush of his broken air conditioning, the long silences between strained conversations.

There were moments the house didn’t feel like a home anymore, just a halfway point between what he wanted to fix and what he feared he’d already lost.

The move was supposed to be about healing. About Christopher. About starting over. But nothing had been as easy as he’d imagined.

He sat on the worn couch one late Friday night, still dressed in his usual hoodie and jeans, the soft hum of the TV in the background doing little to distract him. The iPad — the same one that once held his secret plans to leave L.A. — pinged with a FaceTime notification.

Buck (incoming call)

A small, tired smile crossed Eddie’s face as he accepted.

Buck’s grinning face appeared instantly. “Hey, man.”

“Hey,” Eddie replied, voice rough with fatigue. “Late night?”

“Jeeyun’s out like a light. Maddie and Chim left her with us again since the baby is coming soon,” Buck said, shifting the camera slightly. “But— someone wants to say hi.”

Eddie’s breath caught as you leaned into frame, cheeks flushed, hair slightly messy from what looked like a cozy night in.

You were wearing one of Buck’s oversized shirts — probably borrowed, maybe not. And then, with a bark and a blur of golden fur, a puppy popped into view, scrambling into your lap.

“Meet Rocket!” You laughed, trying to hold the squirming pup steady.

Buck chuckled offscreen. “She named him after Groot’s buddy.”

Eddie let out a short laugh, despite the weight in his chest. “Of course she did.”

You smiled warmly, not quite the same smile you used to give Eddie — this one was lighter, freer, filled with a kind of peace he hadn’t seen in you in weeks, maybe months.

“I keep meaning to send you a photo,” you said softly. “He’s got Buck wrapped around his little paw.”

Buck groaned. “I’m a softie, sue me.”

Eddie nodded, eyes fixed on the way your shoulder brushed Buck’s, how easily you fit together now, the domesticity of it all like a snapshot from the life he once thought he could have with you.

“He’s cute,” Eddie said, his voice quieter now. “You look happy.”

There was a beat of silence. You met his eyes through the screen.

“I am,” you said. “It took a while, but… yeah. We’re good now.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “That’s good. I’m—” He paused, unsure if he had the right to say it. “I’m glad you have him.”

Buck shifted the camera to focus more on the dog, giving you a moment. You stayed on screen, gaze soft but steady.

“I hope you’re okay, too,” you said gently.

Eddie let his head fall back against the couch.

“Some days are better than others. Chris… he’s still angry. Or maybe just hurt. And I get it, I do. I just wish I’d done it all differently.”

“You’re trying,” you said. “That counts for something.”

He didn’t answer right away. He just watched the way Buck laughed as Rocket barked at something in the kitchen, your hand resting comfortably on Buck’s knee, the kind of small affection that said everything words couldn’t.

You were his once. But the version of you on the screen now? That wasn’t the same person who had stood in his kitchen heartbroken weeks ago.

This was someone who had rebuilt. Reclaimed. Moved on.

“I keep wondering,” Eddie said finally, “if things would’ve been different. If I had just… stayed. Talked to you first. Let you in on the plan instead of shutting you out.”

You smiled, but it was tinged with something softer, sadder.

“Maybe,” you said. “But if you had… I might’ve never found this version of myself. And you? You might’ve never had the space to fix things with your son.”

Eddie nodded slowly, his throat thick. “I just… I miss you.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I miss you too, sometimes. But it’s not the same kind of missing anymore.”

He understood. It wasn’t a wound — it was a scar. Something healed, but not forgotten.

“I hope you find someone who makes you feel like you belong again,” you added, your voice kind.

And Eddie, ever the soldier, nodded once more. “I hope so too.”

As the screen dimmed after the call ended, Eddie sat in the silence again. But this time, it didn’t feel as hollow.

You were happy. Buck was there for you. And though the sting still lingered, he had peace knowing he hadn’t ruined you — only rerouted you to something real.

He glanced over at the half-packed box of Christopher’s old toys — things he was finally allowed to bring back into the main room again.

It wasn’t perfect. But maybe one day, it could be.

Meanwhile, the thing about losing people, Buck had learned, was that it didn’t always look like slammed doors or shouting matches.

Sometimes, it looked like letting go before you were ready — like watching someone drive away with the last piece of your heart and having to accept that they weren’t yours to keep.

That used to be the story of his life.

First his parents. Then Daniel. Then Abby. Then Tommy, and now, Eddie.

But not you.

You came into his life like you’d always been meant to be there — like you fit right between the cracks he thought no one could fill. It started quiet.

A knock on his door in the middle of the night. An “I can’t be alone right now” without needing to say it out loud. A slice of cake shared over talks about your messy shifts, the kind of silence that didn’t demand to be filled.

He didn’t mean to fall in love with you. He really didn’t.

But maybe it happened when you stole his favorite hoodie and never gave it back. Maybe it was the way you remembered his favorite cereal and kept buying it. Or maybe it was the way you said his name when the weight of the world was too much for him to carry alone.

The night you told him you’d ended things with Eddie, he didn’t expect you to look so… steady. Sad, yes. Hurt, yes. But grounded.

And it made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could finally stop running from the idea that he didn’t deserve something lasting.

“I thought Tommy would be the one,” Buck had confessed that night, drying a plate while you put away leftovers. “He said I was too much. Didn’t know what I wanted. Said I might break his heart in the end.”

You leaned against the counter, turning to face him. “I thought Eddie was my last.”

“And now?”

You smiled softly. “Now I think… maybe it’s not about finding your last. Maybe it’s about choosing someone who never makes you feel like you’re too much.”

That sentence lodged in his chest like a cornerstone. You hadn’t just offered him a place in your life — you offered him the kind of love that stayed.

That’s when everything changed.

You stayed. Even when he had a bad day. Even when he overthought. Even when he accidentally set the toaster on fire (again). You stayed.

And when Eddie left for El Paso, you held Buck’s hand the whole time. Helped him tape up boxes. Laughed when Eddie grumbled about Buck’s ridiculous name on the rental application.

Buck never said it out loud — not to Eddie, not even to himself — but part of him felt guilty. Like he was standing in the space someone else had built. But then you kissed him for the first time, quietly, slowly, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And he knew then that this wasn’t stolen.

It was something new.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man will. not. let. you. go. He’s fucking clinging to you and telling you how much he loves you and how good you felt. I feel like it’s not so much aftercare as it is him reassuring himself that you’re not going to leave him, but I’d say it still counts because it helps calm you down and lull you to sleep. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

We all saw that scene, right? This man is OBSESSED with your tits, and he’s his happiest when he’s looking at/touching/kissing them<3 A close second is your soft belly, because of how much it makes you squirm when he’s pressing hot kisses down the valley of your breasts, to your tummy, and finally to your core.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s so obsessed with the idea of having you as his little housewife, but I just don’t see him being overly in love with the idea of kids. Even then, kids getting you pregnant would be the ultimate way to ensure you don’t leave him, so most times he’s definitely waiting too long to pull out. “Sorry, baby. You just feel so good.” he’d whisper in a feigned guilty tone, although his eyes are glued to the way his cum drips out of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

panty stealer🫵🏻panty stealer🫵🏻

This man is a fucking creep (affectionate), and before, or even after he had you the first time, you would definitely notice some of your prettier panties going missing. At first, maybe before he finally had you sprawled out on his bed, you’d notice some are missing, and you’d begin to think that the washer is eating them. Then, when you’re leaving his house the morning after your first time, you don’t find your panties in the spot you’re sure you saw him throw them, and that's when you begin to put the pieces together. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I think he tends to wait for the right person, although he’s definitely had his fair share of one night stands that just weren’t special enough. Not as special as you. He’s not inexperienced, but he’s also not super experienced. But what he lacks in experience, he makes up for with his pure desperation to please. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary. He may be a little crazy (again, affectionate), but I don’t think he’s especially freaky in terms of postions, especially because he wants a normal life with you more than anything else. He would definitely do any position you ask of him, desperate to have you stay with him, but if he could choose, he’d make sure his view of your chest and belly are never restricted. Also, he would definitely make sure you’re comfortably laid out on the bed before he’s burying himself to the hilt (if he can hold himself back that long lol).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s so fucking serious in the moment omg. He’s fucking whiny and desperate for you, and his mind is so clouded by thoughts of you that any resemblance of a tease or joke dies on his lips before he can say them.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I think he keeps it pretty neatly trimmed; trying to be perfect for you. I think he prefers his partner to do the same. He doesn’t necessarily prefer it completely bare, but keeping it nice and trimmed for him makes him feel good.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

If it’s planned, he’s romantic as FUCK. Rose petals, candles, wine. Everything is perfectly planned. If it’s unplanned, however, he needs you so badly that he doesn’t notice anything else but you. He IS complimenting you and worshipping you the entire time, though, so I think that counts.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s definitely not opposed to it; he can’t have you every minute of every day, after all. And it's so odd that your window happens to be right across from his, giving him a perfect view of you when his hand is stroking his leaking cock. This is especially useful when you’re alone late at night, and he has the chance to get off while watching you get off. Nothing turns him on more than just you existing, completely unaware ignoring his wandering eyes. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise: He loves to praise you; he loves the way your face lights up when he does it in, or out of the bedroom. He praises you both with words and with touches; caressing your cheek or your neck, or any other part of your body that he can reach. He loves reminding you how much he loves your body and how good you’re being for him, especially after you do something wrong, and he’s finished correcting you.  He loves receiving praise just as much, though. He loves to hear how good he’s doing, how much you need him, how big he is, how well he’s filling you up. The list goes on. 

Predator/Prey: I think this goes along with the housewife idea I mentioned earlier; he loves the idea of cutting you off from everyone and having you depend solely on him. Because of this, he also sort of loves the idea of him having to chase you if you run away. “Where are you going, sweetheart? You know I’m the only one who can take care of you like you need, the only one that understands you. Come back to me baby, now.” 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a possessive motherfucker, and therefore loves to see you sprawled across his bed, head on his pillow and pussy glistening as you await his aching cock. He loves when you throw your head back, hands gripping his sheets as you fall apart on his mouth or his fingers, and he especially loves it when your releases drip down your thighs and onto his bed. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He loves the idea of coming home to you after a hard day, and having you cook for him. Acting like a little housewife is his wet dream. If he’s greeted with a soft smile from you and a delicious smell wafting into the entryway from the kitchen, he knows that by the time he’s ready to actually eat the food, it’ll be either cold or burned. He’d much rather have his perfect girl for dinner instead. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He would absolutely not be into hurting you in the bedroom (unless you disobey him, of course, and his anger gets the best of him). But other than that, I don’t think there’s much he wouldn’t do, although he doesn’t really do anything crazy unless you ask. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Have I mentioned lately how much he wants to please you and make you stay with him? Because of that, he definitely presents as more of a giver; if given the choice, he would happily choose dipping his head between your thighs until you’re cumming on his tongue. When he uses his mouth on you, he’s greedy; desperate to feel your release on his tongue, and he’s never able to hold back from using his fingers when you’re close to the edge. As true as this is, he loves when you use your mouth on him. The sight, the sound, the feeling, the power? He loves it even more than having you squirming and bucking your hips against his face. His sadistic side comes out whenever you decide to get on your knees for him, and by the time he’s cumming hard down your throat, he’s roughly fucking your throat, eager to see you swallow his load. If he can’t claim you by filling up your sweet pussy with his seed and getting you pregnant, he’ll happily compromise by filling up your belly this way. It holds him over until he actually gets you pregnant.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

I think for the most part he’s more slow and sensual, although when he gets closer and closer to the edge, his pace gets faster and sloppy. I think he’d be rough when he’s upset with you, as he prefers that than actually getting violent with you for not doing what he says outside of the bedroom, but it would very rarely get too rough. At the end of the day, you’re still his beautiful girl, and he needs you with him always.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He loves a good quickie. This man will never turn down any opportunity to have you, and if you’re both busy, he’ll have you bent over the nearest surface so he can feel you. Of course he’d rather be able to take his time with you, but he could never ever turn you down.  

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll experiment if you really want to, but for the most part he won’t deviate from what he knows. In terms of risking getting caught, absolutely not. You’re for his eyes only, and he wouldn’t want to go through the hassle of having to kill a man for seeing your pretty body. His pretty body.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

I kinda wanna says he’s fucking out after one, like he’s cuddling up with you, and he’s asleep before he can even think about going another round. But sometimes, if he has to teach you a lesson for making him jealous/not listening to him, he has you cumming at least 3 times before he even thinks about slipping his cock into your dripping cunt. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don’t think he’d be particularly interested in toys, and to be honest, I think he would see them negatively at first. “Do I not make you feel good, sweetheart? Am I not good enough?” I think after some convincing, he’d be most interested in a cock ring, because while it gives both of you pleasure, it’s something targeted towards his pleasure, and he wouldn’t see it as something to compete with. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you; it proves to him that you want him just as bed, but he can never keep it up for long. He’d be giving you less than innocent touches, and whispering just-innocent-enough things in your ear, which makes you bite your lip and squeeze your legs together. As soon as he sees how worked up you get, though, he’d be pushing you against the nearest service and ripping your clothes off. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

HE’S SO GODDAMN LOUD!! He’s so whiny, and he moans in your ear so much!! He’s so caught up in your tightness, and the way you clench around him that he can’t fight back the moans and whines escaping his lips, whispers of praise slipping out between moans too. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I headcanon that while he doesn’t like to hurt you, his one exception is when he’s taking you from behind. He doesn’t know what comes over him, but his hand is going to your hair, tugging the roots hard as he increases the pace of his thrusts. He loves the way you whine, a hint of pain mixed with your pleasure, and he can’t help but smack your ass hard every now and then, too, just to hear the pain laced through your moans.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6 inches, slim. Grower, not a shower. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think his sex drive is pretty high, but he’s able to push it aside a lot of the time if the situation isn’t right. If it were up to him, he’d have you at least once a day, but if something comes up, he’s able to push his desire to the side and focus on the other thing. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can fall asleep very fucking quickly; his head between your breasts as he slowly drifts off to sleep. While he does take the time to pull you into his arms and praise you for a while, once his head hits your chest, he’s a fucking goner.

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Evan Buckley lived in extremes.

He always had. From the moment he showed up at the 118 — too young, too fast, too much — he’d chased every call like it owed him something. Like if he just ran hard enough, climbed high enough, saved enough, he could outrun the feeling gnawing at his ribs.

He didn’t name it back then.

Didn’t need to.

Because naming it meant slowing down. Meant looking it in the face and admitting that he wasn’t just chasing danger — he was chasing worth.

The job gave him purpose. The team gave him structure. And for a while, that was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Because when you’re the guy who runs into burning buildings with a smile on your face, people stop asking if you’re the one burning.

He became a legend fast — not in the medals or accolades kind of way, but in whispers around the department.

That’s Buck. He pulled a kid out of a collapsing house. He scaled five stories without ropes once. Total maniac. He hooked up with two EMTs in one weekend.

They weren’t wrong.

Buck didn’t care what people said, as long as they were saying something. Being talked about was better than being forgotten.

And under the bravado, the recklessness, the charm — there was a boy who had been left too many times. By his parents. His sister. Abby. The world.

So he made sure no one could ignore him.

He was the guy who dove headfirst into every call, heart first into every mistake. He was loud. Sloppy, sometimes. He was the kind of brave that bordered on foolish.

Bobby saw it. Hen saw it. Chim tried to buffer him, joke around him, nudge him back into place.

But Buck? Buck was barely holding himself together.

He wasn’t malicious. Just restless. Hungry for connection, for the kind of safety he didn’t believe he deserved. Which is why, when Abby Clarke walked into his life, he latched on with both hands and no helmet.

She was older. Calmer. She saw through the noise and offered him something still. Something quiet.

And he clung to it.

He thought this is it — someone who stays.

Until she didn’t.

And when she left, she didn’t just take her suitcase. She took whatever fragile progress Buck had made believing he was enough for someone to stay for.

He spiraled.

Hard.

Sleeping around. Ghosting shifts. Picking fights with Chim. Pushing Bobby’s patience to its limit. He got suspended. Almost fired. And still, he kept running — from something, toward nothing.

And then he hit a wall.

Not a physical one. But one only he could feel — the kind that comes when the thrill stops numbing the ache.

That’s when Bobby finally sat him down. Really sat him down. No raised voice. No threats. Just a soft, quiet: “Are you done trying to destroy yourself?”

Buck hadn’t answered.

Not that day.

But something shifted.

He started showing up differently. Stayed sober on his days off. Came early. Took care of the new guy, Ravi. Listened more. Talked less. Learned to shut his mouth before the sarcasm slipped out and hurt someone.

It was slow. Uneven. There were backslides.

Nights where he stared at his ceiling wondering if there was anything left for him outside the job. But then came the little wins — Bobby trusting him with a delicate rescue. Hen letting him lead a training. Chim actually saying, “Proud of you, man.”

They were quiet victories.

The kind that didn’t need sirens or spotlights.

And Buck started to realize: maybe being seen didn’t have to mean being loud. Maybe it could mean being real.

And in that stillness, that liminal space between healing and hurt, something — someone — would soon arrive.

But not yet.

Not today.

Today, Buck walked into the firehouse with a steady gait and a thermos of coffee in his hand. He wasn’t running anymore.

He wasn’t fixed. But he was trying.

And as he stepped into the kitchen and spotted Ravi talking to someone new — a face he didn’t recognize yet — he tilted his head, curiosity piqued.

Not because of interest.

But because these days, he paid attention.

Because he knew better than anyone: everyone walks in with a story.

And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find someone who stays for yours.

The firehouse kitchen smelled like garlic bread and grilled chicken — Bobby’s signature meal for easing new recruits into the fold.

A little comfort food, a lot of subtle observation. It was tradition by now. Buck had seen it play out a dozen times. But tonight, something felt different.

“Alright, everyone,” Bobby called out, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“We’ve got a new member joining us on rotation. Paramedic. Transferred from Station 136. Came highly recommended — and yes, she’s already survived the paperwork.”

That got a few chuckles.

Buck leaned back in his chair, sipping a beer, eyes fixed on the table — until he heard footsteps and glanced up.

You walked in with quiet confidence, your expression open but unreadable. You gave Chim a nod, bumped fists with Ravi, even managed to coax a small smile out of Eddie. But when your eyes met Buck’s, something sharpened in your gaze.

“Evan Buckley,” you said, stepping forward before Bobby could do the honors. “The man. The myth. The sex swing incident.”

Hen choked on her water.

Buck blinked. “Seriously? That’s still going around?”

“I mean, you got stuck mid-rescue,” you said, grinning. “It’s basically required reading in paramedic group chats.”

“I was saving a guy’s life—”

“While tangled in a very specific apparatus,” Hen added, laughing now. “Classic Buck.”

“Right,” Buck muttered, but he was smiling too as he stood to shake your hand. “Well, glad I could make an impression.”

“Hard not to,” you replied smoothly.

Bobby motioned toward the food. “Grab a plate. Get comfortable. You’re family now.”

You slid into the seat between Buck and Hen — the one always left open for new blood. Buck noticed the ease in your posture, the way you listened when Chim talked about his daughter, how you laughed — really laughed — at one of Ravi’s sarcastic remarks.

You were tuned in. Not trying to dominate the room, just present in a way that made people want to open up.

Hen leaned closer. “So, three years at 136, right?”

“Yup. Two of those mostly on medical calls. Rotated through some tough wildfire seasons last year. Decided I wanted something steadier. A tighter-knit crew.”

Buck tilted his head. “And you think this place is steady?”

You looked at him with a smirk. “Steady’s relative. But I’ve got a good gut.”

Hen raised her glass. “To instincts. You’re gonna fit right in.”

Buck didn’t say much after that. Just observed.

The way you leaned toward Hen when she spoke. The way you passed the salad bowl without anyone asking. The calm energy you brought into the chaos.

And for a guy like Buck — whose life had often felt like a long string of misfires — that calm made him want to stay just a little longer in your orbit.

Later, when you excused yourself to help Bobby in the kitchen, Hen elbowed him. “She’s good.”

“Yeah,” Buck muttered, still watching the doorway you disappeared through. “She really is.”

Something in him stirred — something that hadn’t moved in a long time.

But for now, he kept it buried. One shift at a time.

The sirens wailed as the 118 raced through downtown. Dispatch had flagged it as a ‘multi-casualty trauma,’ and the pit in Buck’s stomach tightened the closer they got.

It was a three-car collision on a bridge, with reports of people trapped, including a child in critical condition. The kind of call that didn’t just test your skills — it tested your nerve.

“Chim, Buck — you’re with me on extractions. Eddie, Y/N, you handle triage,” Bobby directed as the truck rolled to a stop with a hiss of brakes.

Without missing a beat, you grabbed your trauma bag and jumped out of the rig, sprinting alongside Eddie toward the first wrecked vehicle.

Buck watched you go, momentarily caught off guard by the way you moved — focused, fast, in full command of your role.

He didn’t even realize he was smiling until Chim gave him a look. “You gonna stand there or you wanna keep up?”

“Right, yeah,” Buck muttered, snapping into motion.

The scene was chaos. Glass shimmered on the pavement like ice. A woman screamed from one of the cars, her leg pinned beneath the dashboard. A toddler wailed in the backseat. And that was just one of the three vehicles.

Buck was elbow-deep in a door panel when he heard you over the comms.

“Victim 1 has a head wound and possible spinal trauma. Stabilizing now.”

You were crouched beside a man whose forehead was bleeding profusely, calmly applying a C-collar and giving directions to a bystander to help brace him.

It wasn’t just that you knew what to do — it was the way you spoke. Direct, grounding. People listened.

“Y/N, I need a hand over here!” Chim called out from the middle car.

“On it!” You tossed a pair of gloves to the bystander and dashed over.

Buck watched as you assessed a woman’s irregular breathing and slipped a hand behind her neck like you’d done it a thousand times.

You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t rattle. You just moved.

Even Eddie glanced up from where he was wrapping a boy’s arm in gauze and muttered to himself, “Damn. She’s good.”

By the time all victims were stabilized and en route to the hospital, Buck stood near the rig, helmet tucked under his arm, adrenaline buzzing.

You walked over, brushing dust off your sleeves. “You alright?”

“Me? I’m good,” Buck said. “But you—wow. That was incredible. The way you handled the head trauma guy, and that kid who was hyperventilating?”

You shrugged, modest but glowing from the rush. “You do this job long enough, you learn how to find your footing in the chaos.”

Buck stared at you for a second longer than necessary.

“Yeah, but not everyone makes it look that easy.”

Chim joined them, clapping you on the back. “If you keep pulling moves like that, I’m not gonna let Hen take you next shift.”

“Too late,” Eddie said as he came up, peeling off his gloves. “I’m already requesting her.”

You rolled your eyes, but Buck could see the smile tugging at your lips.

Bobby walked over last, clipboard in hand. “Good work, all of you. Y/N, you’re proving to be everything your record said and more.”

“Thanks, Cap,” you said, wiping sweat from your brow.

As the team packed up and got back into the rig, Buck slid into the seat beside you.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said quietly.

You turned to him, brow arched. “Good ones, I hope?”

“The best kind,” he said.

And he meant it.

It was just after sunrise when the 118 pulled back into the station. The adrenaline from the bridge call had faded, replaced by the familiar ache of fatigue and the hum of relief.

The B shift crew was already filtering in — exchanging nods, half-sleepy greetings, and fresh cups of coffee.

Buck scrubbed a hand through his messy curls as he slid off his turnout coat, tossing it into his locker.

You were at the sink in the kitchen, rinsing your hands and scrubbing away the grime of the last twelve hours. Hen passed you a towel and a warm smile as she grabbed her keys.

“You did good today, Y/N,” she said. “For what it’s worth — not many people impress Buck.”

Buck looked up from his locker with a faint scoff. “I’m not that hard to impress.”

“Yes, you are,” Chim and Eddie said in unison as they passed by, drawing a light chuckle from you.

Buck shot them both a look before wandering over to the kitchen. You were drying your hands, your sleeves rolled up, a few strands of hair escaping your bun.

“Hey,” Buck said, leaning a little against the counter. “Shift’s done. You got plans this morning?”

You looked up, curious. “Besides sleeping for five hours and eating my weight in leftover pasta? Not really.”

Buck smiled. “Well… I was thinking coffee. There’s this spot a few blocks down — open early, quiet, and they actually know how to make a flat white. If you’re into that.”

You blinked — surprised, but not unpleasantly. “You offering me caffeine, Buckley?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin boyish, almost shy.

“Or maybe I’m trying to hang out with the paramedic who saved three people in record time this morning and made Eddie Diaz speechless for a whole twenty seconds.”

You let out a small laugh, reaching for your jacket. “Alright. Coffee sounds good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “But you’re buying. Hero tax.”

Buck chuckled, holding the door open for you as you both stepped out into the golden, sleepy haze of early morning.

“Deal.”

From the window, Eddie watched the two of you walk off together, shaking his head with a knowing smile. Hen stepped beside him, coffee in hand.

“Told you he’d crack first,” she said.

Eddie hummed. “Yeah, but for once… it’s not just a flirt.”

Hen sipped her drink. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t mess it up.”

The thing no one told you about being a firefighter wasn’t how loud the job could get.

It was the silence after.

The silence when the sirens faded, and the blood was cleaned from your gloves, and the screams stopped echoing in your ears.

That was when the weight crept in — not just from the job, but from who you carried it for.

You had learned early in life not to hold on too tightly. Nothing ever really stayed — not your childhood house, not the friends you thought were forever, not even the people who promised they wouldn’t leave.

Change had always arrived like a storm: without warning, without apology.

So you adapted.

You moved light. You didn’t ask for permanence. You didn’t get too attached.

But then you found the 118.

And somewhere along the line, they became the one place you didn’t have to flinch.

Buck had started as a ripple.

That first coffee turned into a second, then into breakfast runs, then into small moments: him helping you hose down the rig after a muddy call, saving you the last protein bar in the kitchen, walking just a step behind you on every building search like he was quietly, instinctively keeping watch.

He didn’t make it loud, but Buck had slipped into your life like he’d always been meant to be there.

And that terrified you.

Because lately, your heart had begun to stutter every time you lost sight of him during a call.

You started counting the seconds he was out of your line of vision. Every loud crash, every “man down” over comms, had you holding your breath before you even realized it.

You weren’t used to caring this much. Not about someone who ran headfirst into fire.

And today’s call — it shook something loose.

A scaffolding collapse. Six construction workers trapped. One rebar impalement. Two amputations. The kind of call that would drain anyone.

Buck had gone up to the second floor, clearing debris to reach a trapped victim. You and Hen had stayed on the ground level, assisting with triage. You’d looked up once to check on him, just in time to see the beam snap above him.

He’d dodged it. Barely.

He’d waved it off afterward with that crooked smile of his, sweat matting his curls. But your heart had dropped so fast you didn’t even register you were shaking until Hen quietly placed a steady hand on your back.

You didn’t let it show.

Not then.

But later that night, long after the rig was clean and the paperwork was filed, you found yourself lingering in the kitchen as the others filtered out.

Bobby was wiping down the counter, Hen sipped her tea at the table, and Chim leaned back in his chair scrolling through photos of Jee-Yun.

You didn’t mean to say it aloud.

But you did.

“I’m scared.”

The room stilled — not with judgment, but with familiarity.

Bobby set the towel down. “About what?”

You hesitated, swallowing. “About caring too much. About getting used to something good… and having it taken away.”

Hen tilted her head, gently. “You mean Buck.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.

Chim set his phone down and leaned forward, more serious now. “Buck has that effect.”

“He’s reckless,” you said softly, voice fraying. “He throws himself into danger without a second thought. He laughs it off and keeps going. I’m just— I’m scared one day he won’t come back.”

“Have you told him?” Bobby asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to make it about me.”

Hen stood and crossed the kitchen, resting a warm hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, caring about someone doesn’t make it about you. It makes it real.”

Chim smiled, softer this time. “He probably feels the same way. Buck might be reckless with himself, but he’s not reckless with people he cares about. And trust me — he cares about you.”

You looked up, heart pounding. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Bobby said. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you after every call. Like he’s checking to make sure you made it back.”

Hen nodded. “You don’t have to keep carrying the weight of every fear by yourself. You’ve got us. And you’ve got him — even if neither of you have said it out loud yet.”

The silence returned, but this time it was filled with something warmer. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“Thanks,” you murmured. “I needed that.”

Chim bumped your shoulder with his. “You’re part of this family now. You don’t get to do things the hard way all the time.”

You laughed, finally. “Noted.”

And when Buck walked into the kitchen a few minutes later — face flushed from a hot shower, curls damp, a curious glance cast your way — you didn’t look away.

Maybe things didn’t always stay.

But maybe some people could.

And maybe, just maybe… he was one of them.

It started small.

You used to sit next to Buck on shift, shoulder-to-shoulder at the kitchen table, his leg brushing yours whenever you both leaned in for a bite of something Hen made.

Your jokes came fast and easy. He knew the exact creases in your smile, the way your laugh always started in your chest before reaching your eyes.

But lately?

Lately, you’d been somewhere else entirely.

You’d started riding back with Chim and Eddie after calls, hanging back in the rig longer than usual, sometimes even taking your coffee breaks outside, pretending to answer texts.

When you laughed now, it was still warm — still you — but Buck didn’t feel like the reason anymore.

At first, he told himself it was nothing. Maybe just a bad day. A bad week. Burnout.

But now, two weeks deep into the change, he was starting to feel like an outsider in a story he’d once felt lucky to be part of.

Breakfast runs used to be your thing.

It had started after your second call together — a collapsed balcony with two patients and a lot of adrenaline.

Buck had bought you a coffee to calm your nerves and you’d smiled like it meant more than just caffeine. After that, it became ritual. You even had a usual order.

Now?

You didn’t even ask if he was coming.

Buck found you outside the diner that morning, standing by the curb while Eddie laughed at something Chim said through the window.

You were focused on your phone, but your face was too blank for someone reading a meme. You looked… elsewhere. And that scared him more than anything.

“Hey,” he said, approaching slowly. “Got room for one more?”

You looked up, startled. Your smile was polite. Too polite.

“Of course.”

That should’ve been comforting. It wasn’t.

He slid into the booth beside you once inside — you didn’t protest, but you didn’t shift closer, either. Chim and Eddie talked around you both, but Buck barely heard any of it. His stomach was too twisted.

And when you offered Eddie a bite of your toast with a soft laugh — the same kind Buck hadn’t heard in days — something inside him snapped quiet.

You both ended up walking out together afterward, coffees in hand, the LA morning sun not yet punishing. He waited until you reached the edge of the lot before breaking the silence.

“You’ve been distant.”

You froze just a little — not fully, but enough for him to notice.

“I’ve been tired,” you replied.

“That’s not what I asked.”

You sighed, brushing hair from your face. “Buck, it’s nothing personal.”

“But it feels personal.”

That made you pause. Really pause. Buck looked at you like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t have all the pieces for.

“You used to talk to me.”

“I still talk to you.”

“Not like before.”

That quiet hung between you, longer than it should have. Cars rolled by. Somewhere nearby, someone honked. It all faded into background noise.

“I just needed space,” you said finally. “That’s all.”

“From me?” Buck asked, not unkindly — just hurt. And it was that part of him — the aching, raw honesty he only ever let out with people he trusted — that finally cracked through.

You didn’t answer right away. And maybe you didn’t need to.

“Did I do something?” he asked softly. “Or not do something?”

You looked down at your cup. “It’s not about you, Buck. Not completely.”

“Then help me understand.”

You exhaled. Slow. Heavy.

“I care about you. That hasn’t changed,” you said. “But this job… what we do, what we see — I’m trying to protect myself. And lately, I’ve been feeling things I shouldn’t.”

“What kind of things?”

“I worry about you,” you said.

“Every damn call. Every time you take a risk or crack a joke to hide how much you care. I worry because you act like you’re invincible when none of us are.”

Buck blinked. That was the last thing he expected.

“I worry about you all the time too,” he said.

“You think I don’t notice when you zone out after a call? Or when you touch your shoulder like it still hurts from the collapse?”

You looked at him then, and it was the first time in a while you really looked. Buck felt it in his ribs.

“I didn’t mean to shut you out,” you said, voice quieter now. “I just didn’t know how to make room for… this.”

“For what?”

“For how much I care about you.”

That stopped Buck cold.

For a second, he couldn’t speak — which was rare for him. He ran a hand through his hair, swallowed hard.

“I thought I was imagining it,” he admitted. “When you started hanging around Eddie more, I thought… maybe you were just over me.”

“I needed a breather,” you said gently. “And Eddie’s easy to be around when you’re trying not to feel everything at once.”

Buck nodded. He understood that more than you knew.

“I don’t want to be a distraction,” he said finally. “But I don’t want to be out of your life either.”

“You’re not,” you said quickly. “You’re not. I just need to go slow. For my own heart.”

Buck gave you a smile — soft, genuine, a little sad but somehow still hopeful. “I can do slow. I can do anything, really… just not losing you.”

You reached out and touched his wrist, just briefly, but it sent a warmth through both of you.

“You’re not losing me, Buck,” you said. “Just finding me again. In a different way.”

He nodded.

And for the first time in weeks, the silence between you didn’t feel like a wall.

It felt like a bridge.

The shift was slow.

Rare for L.A. — rare for the 118 — but the quiet was almost a welcome reprieve.

The four of them had just wrapped up restocking the rig after a minor call, and Buck found himself sitting on the tailgate with Eddie, nursing a bottle of water and trying not to let his thoughts spiral.

You weren’t on shift today.

And somehow, that made him more aware of your absence than usual.

Eddie glanced at him from the driver’s side. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Buck said automatically — then sighed, tipping his head back toward the sky. “Actually, no. Not really.”

Eddie raised a brow, folding his arms and leaning against the rig. “Wanna talk about it?”

Buck hesitated. “What’s Y/N been saying?”

Eddie blinked. “That’s direct.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve been going in circles in my head for two weeks, so I figured I’d try a straight line for once.”

That earned a short laugh from Eddie. “She’s… she’s been quieter. But not cold. Still herself, just maybe… more internal lately.”

Buck nodded. “She talks to you though.”

“She talks to everyone, Buck. Just not you the same way right now. You know why.”

He did. But hearing it said aloud still stung.

Hen and Chimney appeared around the corner, Hen wiping her hands on a towel while Chim juggled two protein bars and a Gatorade.

“Talking about Y/N?” Chim guessed with zero subtlety.

“Wow. Okay,” Buck muttered.

Hen smiled knowingly. “It’s not hard to tell. You’ve been sulking like a sad golden retriever since the breakfast run.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Painfully,” Eddie replied.

Hen sat beside Buck and nudged him with her shoulder. “You wanna know what she said the other night?”

Buck’s eyes narrowed. “You’re just gonna tell me?”

“She said she didn’t know what to do with someone who felt permanent.”

That made the words hit like a sucker punch. Buck’s grip on his water bottle tightened.

“She said,” Hen continued, “that for the first time in a long time, she had something that scared her in a good way. And it scared her so much, she didn’t know if it would survive her fear.”

“She meant me?”

“She didn’t say it. But she didn’t have to.”

Buck went quiet.

Chim leaned against the door, eyes thoughtful. “Y/N’s always been calm in the chaos. But when it comes to people she lets in… she’s selective. You got past the filters.”

“I didn’t mean to overwhelm her,” Buck said, voice low.

“You didn’t,” Eddie said. “But you surprised her. That’s different.”

Buck glanced at all of them. “Why does it feel like I’m the only one who didn’t know what was happening until it was too late?”

Hen softened. “Maybe because you’re not used to something being real, Buck. You’re used to the storm, not the quiet after.”

Buck didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Then: “I think I love her.”

The words felt like oxygen and a confession in one breath.

“I didn’t mean to,” he added quickly.

“I just… it crept up on me. Somewhere between the way she remembers everyone’s coffee order and the way she calms people after the worst days of their lives. Somewhere in how she’s always steady, even when she’s falling apart.”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide now that he’d said it aloud. “I think I love her. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

The group went still for a moment — not shocked, but holding the weight of the moment carefully.

“You don’t do anything,” Eddie said, voice quiet and firm.

“Not right away. You be there. You let her come back to you. And when she does, you make sure she knows it’s safe to stay.”

Buck blinked, chest tightening.

“And if she doesn’t?” he asked.

“Then she wasn’t ready,” Hen said. “But I think she is. I just think she’s scared.”

“And you know what it’s like to love someone who’s scared,” Chim added. “So… don’t rush her.”

Buck nodded slowly.

He looked around at the people who had been his constants — even when he hadn’t been his best. People who saw through the ego, the recklessness, the mess.

He’d never imagined the moment of falling in love would come with so much stillness. But now that he’d recognized it… he didn’t want to run from it.

“I’ll wait,” Buck said. “Whatever it takes.”

Eddie patted his shoulder. “Good. Because she’s worth it.”

Buck looked toward the horizon — where the next call, the next shift, the next chance would come.

And somewhere in all that unknown, he hoped you were waiting too.

It was strange, being off shift and still feeling like you were waiting for something to go off — like a bell, a siren, a call that never came.

You hadn’t been sleeping much.

You hadn’t been talking much either.

At least, not to him.

Not since that breakfast run where Buck had looked at you like you were slipping through his fingers and didn’t know how to stop it.

It had been easier, in a way, to talk to Chim, to Hen, even Eddie — because it meant avoiding the one person who made your heart pace harder than a four-alarm call.

But today, you’d needed something softer.

So you texted Maddie.

Mind if I come by? I kinda miss Jeeyun.

Maddie had responded within a minute:

We’d love to see you. She’s teething like a tiny gremlin but I promise we’ll try to make it fun.

Now, you sat curled up on the couch in her apartment, a blanket half-draped across your legs, a drool-stained burp cloth clutched loosely in your hand, and Jeeyun nestled in your lap like a warm, squirming bundle of grounding energy.

“She likes you,” Maddie said softly from the kitchen, mug of tea in hand.

“She’s a baby,” you murmured. “She likes everyone.”

“No,” Maddie said, settling beside you. “She likes you. Not everyone gets that giggle from her.”

Jeeyun babbled loudly, her fingers wrapped around yours.

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Maddie didn’t press. Not at first.

“I’m guessing this visit isn’t just about teething woes and baby cuddles.”

You sighed, brushing a hand down Jeeyun’s back.

“No. I just… I needed quiet. And I needed not to be at the station. Every time I walk in there, I feel like everyone’s waiting for me to say something.”

“About Buck?”

You nodded. “He’s… I don’t know. I don’t know where we stand.”

Maddie watched you carefully.

“Do you want to know what I think?” You glanced at her.

“I texted you, didn’t I?”

She chuckled lightly. “Fair.”

There was a pause, quiet except for Jeeyun’s soft breaths.

“I think my brother can be reckless. Impulsive. Emotionally chaotic. But I’ve never — not once — seen him as focused or consistent as he’s been since you came around.”

You looked away. “He’s… he’s Buck. That scares me.”

“Because you think he’ll mess up?”

“Because I think he won’t. And then I’ll be the one who doesn’t know how to handle it.”

That admission came with a weight you hadn’t expected — a kind of ache you hadn’t named until now. Maddie leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees.

“You’re not the only one who’s scared. Buck doesn’t do vulnerability well, not with feelings like this. But he’s trying. And believe me, I would know.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t want to be someone he gets tired of. Someone he looks at one day and realizes he wanted something easier.”

“He already had easier,” Maddie said. “And none of it made him feel what he feels now.”

Your eyes burned, but you didn’t cry.

You just looked at the baby in your lap, who cooed and grabbed at your dog tags like she was trying to keep you grounded.

Maddie added gently, “If Buck had to choose between a steady life without you or a chaotic one with you in it, he’d pick the chaos. Every time. I know my brother. And I wouldn’t see him with anyone else.”

That last part — I wouldn’t see him with anyone else — cracked something inside you.

It was one thing to wonder if he felt what you felt. It was another to hear it spoken, with certainty, from someone who knew him best.

You nodded slowly, pressing a kiss to Jeeyun’s hair. “Thanks for letting me come over.”

Maddie smiled. “Anytime. Especially if it helps bring you back to him.”

You didn’t answer.

But you thought about how Buck looked at you like you were something he didn’t want to lose.

And maybe… just maybe… you weren’t ready to lose him either.

There wasn’t a moment he could point to when it began — no grand gesture, no dramatic reconciliation.

But it started, he realized, during a call.

A routine one, even. An apartment fire, thick smoke, elderly couple trapped on the third floor.

Buck was on the hose line, you were searching rooms with Chim, and the second he heard your voice over the comms — calm, clear, certain — something in his chest loosened.

Then, something else happened.

You came back.

Not all at once. But in pieces.

During cleanup, you passed him a water bottle and murmured, “Nice knockdown.” Your eyes met his.

Not too long, not too soft. But you looked, and Buck noticed. Buck felt it.

The next shift, you called out for him during another call — “Buck, left hallway’s clear, I’m heading back out with Hen” — and your voice didn’t sound clipped like it used to.

It was steadier. Almost like… you wanted him to hear it.

He started hearing it more and more.

You began standing a little closer when you briefed with the team. You laughed again — not at him, not because of him — but near him. And it mattered. God, it mattered.

During a high-rise evacuation with B-Shift, you caught his wrist when he was climbing the stairs too fast and simply said, “Don’t push your knee, you’re limping again.”

It wasn’t playful, but it was gentle. The kind of thing you used to say before all the silence.

And Buck held onto it like oxygen.

Hen noticed first.

She leaned into him at the back of the rig as you checked Chim’s minor burn. “You feel that?” she murmured, tilting her head in your direction.

Buck didn’t answer. Just followed the way you were focused on Chim, how your hand moved with practiced ease, how you smiled slightly when Chim made a joke about pain being temporary and dramatic flair being forever.

“She’s softening again,” Hen said quietly. “Good job not screwing it up this time. Yet.”

Buck let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Later that night, Chim tugged Buck aside while restocking the trauma bags.

“You know she asked about you last shift?”

Buck’s heart thudded. “She did?”

“Yeah. Something about how your wrist was holding up after that fall. Didn’t want to ask directly, I guess.”

Buck couldn’t stop the small smile that crept in.

“She cares,” Chim added. “Still. Maybe more than ever.”

That did something to Buck — not just fill him with hope, but anchor him. Because for the first time in a long time, the thing that had been tearing at him didn’t feel like loss. It felt like a second chance he hadn’t even known he was working toward.

At the next call, he was assigned to your side again.

And when you both cleared the scene, soot-smeared and tired, you nudged his arm lightly with your shoulder.

“Nice teamwork, Buck.” His chest bloomed warm at that.

“Thanks,” he said softly, catching your eyes again. “I missed it.”

There was a pause. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away.

“Me too,” you said. And it wasn’t nothing.

In fact, it felt like everything.

It was after another long shift.

One of those where your muscles ached in ways you didn’t realize they could, but the adrenaline was still running high.

The sun had barely cracked over the horizon when the 118 rolled back into the station, your silhouettes golden in the dawn.

Buck stretched his back with a groan, watching you unclip your radio with one hand and rub the back of your neck with the other.

He was just about to say something — anything — when you turned to him with that same look you used to wear months ago. The one that came with trust.

“Coffee?” you asked. Then — after a beat — “Breakfast?”

His heart did a quiet somersault.

“Yeah,” he said, voice soft. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You walked a few blocks in comfortable silence. No teasing. No awkward tension. Just footsteps echoing side by side until you found a small diner tucked on the corner of an empty street.

It wasn’t fancy — red booths, yellow lighting, a faint smell of syrup in the air — but it felt safe.

You picked a booth by the window. Sat across from him. And when the waitress poured coffee into your cups, you stirred in sugar like it was second nature.

For a while, it was easy.

You talked about the calls. About Christopher’s latest obsession with stop-motion animation. About Chim’s plan to prank Ravi again and how Hen was already scheming a counterattack.

And then — mid-bite into your pancake — you set your fork down.

“I used to think nothing in my life stayed,” you said suddenly, eyes on your plate. “Family. Friends. I don’t know, stability just… always felt like it slipped right through.”

Buck blinked. Because it felt like you had just cracked something open in him too.

“But the 118… it stuck,” you continued. “And I guess somewhere along the way, you did too.”

Buck’s throat went dry.

“I know we never said anything outright,” you went on, quieter now. “But I felt it. I know you did too.”

“I did,” Buck said, immediately, almost breathless. “I do.”

The way you looked at him then — hopeful, hesitant — it punched through him like nothing else.

“You scared me,” you admitted. “Not because of who you were, but because I didn’t know if I could handle how much I wanted to stay where you were.”

His heart was racing. He leaned in, hands wrapped around his mug to keep them steady.

“I’ve always been afraid of people leaving,” Buck said, voice low.

“Most of them did. Except the 118. Except you. And I was such a mess when we met — sleeping around, numbing out, pretending like nothing mattered. But you…” He exhaled. “You looked at me like I could still be something good.”

You stared at him for a long moment.

“Because you are,” you said.

Silence stretched between you. Not uncomfortable, but full. Full of everything unsaid that no longer needed to be hidden.

Then, softly, you added, “We’ve both been afraid of losing the things that matter. But maybe this time, we don’t have to.”

Buck felt the weight of it — that promise. That hope.

He reached across the table slowly, gently, letting his fingers brush yours. And you didn’t pull away.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

You smiled — small, but real.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m tired of running.”

There wasn’t an announcement.

No dramatic revelation. No secret whispers caught in the locker room. But something shifted.

It started small — the way Buck hovered just a little closer to you after morning roll call.

The way your elbow would brush his when you reached for the same granola bar in the kitchen, and neither of you flinched away anymore. The way you’d grab an extra cup of coffee during breaks without being asked.

Hen noticed first.

Of course she did. She always did.

She didn’t say anything at first — just arched a brow and smirked a little to herself when Buck instinctively grabbed the end of a hose line before you had the chance to haul it alone. She made a bet with Chim the moment she saw you both return from a supply run with that familiar soft flush on your faces.

“Twenty bucks says they’re already halfway in,” Hen muttered, sipping her coffee as you and Buck disappeared around the engine. Chimney blinked after you.

“They’ve been soft with each other lately,” he admitted. “Buck didn’t even try to one-up Eddie on that last rescue. That’s growth.”

“Love’ll do that to you,” Hen said with a grin.

Eddie noticed, too — quietly, in the way only Eddie could. He wasn’t surprised. Not really. He’d seen the way Buck looked at you for months now, even before Buck knew what he was feeling. And he’d seen how you looked back like you were trying not to fall but were already halfway there.

He hadn’t said anything, but the first time Buck helped Christopher adjust his helmet during a family BBQ with you smiling in the background, Eddie knew. And he was happy. Genuinely happy.

Bobby didn’t need to say much either. Just gave Buck a knowing pat on the shoulder one day after a call — the kind of gesture that said, I see it. I trust it. Take care of her.

Even Ravi, the last one to catch on, noticed how you leaned into Buck’s side during team lunches. How you laughed easier now. How Buck seemed to listen more — not just with his ears, but with his heart.

It wasn’t just affection.

It was something steadier.

And you felt it too.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t flinch at the idea of something lasting. You weren’t waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for Buck to disappear when things got too hard. He had been showing up — for you, for the team, for himself — in a way that wasn’t performative. It was real.

You caught Hen watching you one morning in the kitchen. She was grinning.

“What?” you asked, sipping your coffee.

“You just look happy,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You smiled back, a little shy but not scared. “I think I am.”

Buck came up behind you, ruffling your hair with that ridiculous grin of his before stealing a bite of your toast.

“Hey,” you laughed.

“What? We share now,” he teased, mouth full.

Hen just shook her head and muttered something about whipped golden retrievers.

The rest of the day passed like any other — calls, chaos, controlled urgency — but the difference was in the pauses. The quiet in-betweens where Buck would find you, touch your hand briefly, or glance your way like you were the thing grounding him to the world.

And for once, you weren’t afraid of what that meant.

Because he wasn’t afraid either.

This wasn’t the kind of love that burned too fast and too bright. This was the kind that unfolded. That stayed. That chose you every day, in every little moment — even the ones no one else saw.

You were still the same firefighter. Still the same paramedic.

But now, in the laughter around the table, the warmth of the 118’s eyes on you, the feel of Buck’s fingers brushing yours when he thought no one was looking — you felt something new:

Home.

The sweltering Los Angeles summer heat had nothing on the firehouse kitchen when the crew of Station 118 rolled in after a long call.

The air was thick with post-adrenaline energy, gear clunking to the ground, laughter echoing off the walls, and the scent of someone burning microwave popcorn — again.

You stood near the coffee machine, peeling off your gloves, when Buck nudged your side.

“Bet you five bucks Hen blames me for that popcorn smell in five minutes,” he said, grinning.

You didn’t even look up. “It was you.”

Buck feigned offense. “Allegedly.”

“You literally said you’d try that TikTok trick where you pour milk in the bag to make it creamier.”

“Okay, that sounds made up—”

“You said it. In front of everyone.”

Hen walked in right on cue. “Jesus, Buck! Did you try the milk thing again? I told you it’s just online nonsense—”

You tossed a knowing look his way, biting back a smirk.

“Unbelievable,” Buck muttered under his breath, defeated.

This was the rhythm of you and Buck — light banter, teasing, but underneath it all: something quieter, deeper. You’d known each other before 118. The kind of bond forged in chaos and grief, a friendship built like a fireproof wall.

There were people in the world who made you feel seen. Buck made you feel known. And that should’ve been enough.

It was enough.

Until he walked in.

You remember the day Eddie Diaz arrived with perfect clarity — how calm he looked stepping out of Bobby’s car, uniform immaculate, boots polished, expression unreadable.

His eyes scanned the station like he was evaluating threats, but not in a hostile way. Just… trained. Controlled. Measured.

“Everyone, this is Eddie Diaz,” Bobby had announced.

“He’s transferring in from Texas. Served in the Army, graduated top of his class this week, and has a bunch of medical experience that could aid us during calls. He’ll be riding with us starting today.”

Your eyes locked with his across the room.

He nodded once. “Hey.”

You said “hey” back, but it came out breathier than you meant it to — like your lungs hadn’t caught up with the rest of your body.

There was nothing flirtatious in his greeting. It was a single word. A glance.

So why did it linger?

In the weeks that followed, Eddie proved himself quickly. He was sharp on calls, steady under pressure, the kind of firefighter who didn’t flinch even when everything went to hell. And yet, despite his precision and quiet nature, he never came off as cold.

He listened. He noticed things.

Like the way your hands trembled slightly after high-stakes rescues — and how he’d subtly pass you a water bottle before you even realized you needed one. Or how he always volunteered to cover your spot on late shifts when you looked run-down, without asking questions.

You told yourself it was professionalism. Just one teammate helping another.

But when you’d hear him laugh — that low, soft laugh he reserved for moments where his walls dropped — you started to forget why you’d drawn the line in the first place.

The infamous “no dating in the firehouse” rule had always been more about protection than principle. You saw what happened when lines blurred. You saw the mess it left behind when it fell apart.

And Buck… Buck was always the exception you refused to let yourself entertain.

He was too close. Too familiar. Too safe.

You knew how he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. You knew the way his hand lingered half a second longer when he passed you your helmet, or the way he always positioned himself between you and danger — instinctively, like muscle memory.

But you also knew how fragile your friendship was. If you opened that door, there was no going back. And you didn’t want to lose him.

Eddie, on the other hand… Eddie was new. Untangled. Unknown.

Tempting.

“Okay,” Hen said one night, sitting across from you in the loft after a call, “I gotta ask.”

You glanced at her over the rim of your mug. “Ask what?”

“The Diaz situation.”

“There is no ‘Diaz situation,’” you said calmly, biting back a smile.

“Girl, please. You turned down dinner with us to ‘go over reports with Eddie.’ At his place.”

“We were organizing notes from last week’s apartment fire.”

Hen raised a brow. “And you couldn’t have done that here?”

You opened your mouth, closed it, then sighed. “You’re reading into things.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, “everyone’s reading into things. Chimney started a betting pool. Bobby is pretending not to notice. And Buck—” she paused.

“Buck’s trying real hard not to care, but he does.”

Your chest tightened.

You’d noticed the shift in Buck. He was still Buck — still your partner on calls, still quick to joke, still watching your six like always. But the light in his eyes had dulled a little.

The jokes didn’t come as easy. Sometimes you’d catch him watching you and Eddie talking in the corner of the station, and he’d look away before your eyes could meet.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what it looked like from the outside.

Hell, even from the inside, it scared you.

Because Eddie made you feel like someone had finally met you at your level — calm, careful, steady. And you couldn’t pretend you didn’t crave that stability.

But with every step you took closer to Eddie, something inside you whispered that you were walking further and further away from something else.

From someone else.

Later that night, as the station settled and the lights dimmed, you found Buck in the garage, fiddling with his turnout gear. Everyone else had gone to sleep, but he was wide awake, pretending to be busy.

“You good?” you asked gently.

He didn’t look at you at first. “Yeah. Just… cleaning up.”

You stood beside him in silence for a beat before saying, “I’m not trying to hurt anyone.”

Buck nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “I know.”

The words hung heavy between you, unsaid but understood.

You weren’t breaking a rule. But something was breaking — maybe slowly, maybe just in Buck’s heart. You didn’t know how to fix it without undoing the thing that had finally made you feel seen in a new way.

And as Buck finally looked at you, eyes soft but distant, you wondered if maybe some lines weren’t meant to be crossed — only redrawn.

The call came in midafternoon.

Cardiac arrest. Male, mid-60s. Possible overdose on blood thinners.

You and Eddie loaded into the rig without missing a beat — a rhythm that had started forming between you, quiet and natural.

Hen had swapped rotations with Chim earlier, and Buck was partnered with Ravi that day, left behind at the station when you rolled out with Diaz.

That’s what made it worse.

Buck couldn’t do anything but watch from the bay doors as the rig pulled away, your laughter echoing faintly just before the doors slammed shut.

He’d never heard you laugh like that for anyone on shift before.

Meanwhile, the scene was chaos. The man’s daughter was sobbing on the front porch, screaming at the 9-1-1 dispatcher still on speakerphone.

Eddie cleared a path through the entryway while you knelt beside the patient, fingers flying over his pulse points.

“Unresponsive, no pulse,” you called. “Starting compressions.”

Eddie dropped beside you, AED already powered on. You didn’t have to speak much — he mirrored your movements like he already knew how you liked to work. And that was new.

You had a rhythm with Buck, sure, but with Eddie it felt instinctive. A kind of quiet understanding you hadn’t even noticed forming until it was already there.

“One milligram epi, IV push,” you said quickly. “Charging at 200.”

Eddie handed you the syringe, voice calm. “Done.”

The daughter sobbed louder behind you. “Please save him,” she begged.

You didn’t blink. “We’re doing everything we can.”

Eddie moved in to relieve your compressions, sweat glistening along his brow, but his hands never faltered. He was strong, steady — and when you met his eyes across the man’s chest, you felt a strange heat crawl beneath your ribs.

Focus.

But you saw it then. That flicker of something in his gaze. Not admiration. Not just trust. It was quieter than that. A kind of silent awe.

After two shocks and almost eight minutes of CPR, the man’s pulse came back.

The daughter fell to her knees. “Oh my God.”

Eddie exhaled deeply, sitting back on his heels, eyes finding yours again.

You grinned, exhausted but satisfied. “Nice work, Diaz.”

“You too,” he said. But he was still looking at you.

And that heat returned — low and persistent, curling at the base of your spine.

Back at the rig, you leaned against the open doors while Eddie finished writing his report. You were quiet for a beat, letting the adrenaline wear off. The day was warm, sun angling across the metal, casting a golden glow on his skin.

You watched him — the way he furrowed his brow when he focused, the faint scar on his jaw you hadn’t noticed before, the way he chewed lightly on the inside of his cheek.

“What?” he asked without looking up.

“Hm?”

“You’re staring.”

You smirked. “Maybe I just like the view.”

Eddie’s pen stilled. He looked at you — really looked — and for a moment the air felt charged.

“That was the most unprofessional thing I’ve heard you say in uniform,” he said. You lifted a brow.

“Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

His mouth twitched. “I didn’t say that.”

You were about to push it further — tease him the way you had a few nights ago during a late-night coffee run — but your phone buzzed. Buck.

BUCKLEY: Call went okay?

You stared at the message for a moment. Then typed back.

YOU: Yeah. Patient survived. All good.

You didn’t mention the moment. You didn’t tell him how Eddie’s hand had brushed yours when you passed the IV kit, or how your heart skipped a beat when he smiled at you afterward like you were the only person in the world.

You didn’t mention how easy it felt.

Because that wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain over text.

Later that evening, when you and Eddie walked back into the station, laughing about something Christopher had said the other day — Buck noticed.

He’d been waiting. Watching the clock. Pretending to sort equipment in the gear room when really, he was just trying not to let the jealousy eat him alive.

But then he saw you.

Not just the way you walked beside Eddie — close enough to brush shoulders — but the way you looked up at him, lit from within.

Buck had known you for years. Through heartbreaks, broken bones, birthdays, and breakdowns. He’d been there when your dad had passed. When your first real relationship after him had crumbled. When you’d failed your lieutenant’s exam and then aced it six months later.

He had seen you cry. He had seen you fight.

But he’d never seen you smile like that.

Not for him.

“You ever think about switching partners?” Buck asked casually, later that night, lounging in the kitchen.

You were pulling a water bottle from the fridge. “What, like musical chairs but with defibs?”

He shrugged. “I just meant, you and me used to ride out together more. Kinda miss it.”

You turned, leaning against the counter.

“It’s not like I asked to switch. Just how the schedule landed.”

“But you like it better with Eddie?”

There it was.

You hesitated. “Eddie’s easy to work with.”

Buck nodded, but his jaw tightened. “Right.”

You studied him. “Is this… weird for you?”

Buck looked up, and for the first time, there was no teasing in his eyes. Just honesty.

“A little.”

The air stretched between you. You didn’t answer.

Didn’t know how to.

Hen pulled you aside the next day as soon as you came in for your shift. “He’s not handling it well,” she said gently.

You sighed. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I know. But Buck’s always had a blind spot when it comes to you. Maybe he never thought you’d actually fall for someone else.”

You rubbed a hand over your face. “I haven’t fallen for anyone.”

Hen gave you a look. “Girl, please. I saw the way you looked at Eddie after that call. Like he invented CPR.”

You groaned. “That obvious?”

“Only to everyone with eyes.”

You didn’t know what this thing with Eddie was yet — just that it was starting to take up more space in your chest than you wanted to admit.

It was in the way he walked beside you to the rig every morning.

The way he remembered how you took your coffee — sweet, no cream — and brought you one on tough days without being asked.

The way he saw you — not as a rule or a boundary or a decision you made once to protect yourself, but as someone worth knowing anyway.

You hadn’t crossed any lines yet. Not officially.

But the pull was undeniable now.

And the line was starting to blur.

It had been months since that first call with Eddie. Months since that quiet moment by the rig, where the air between you shifted and never quite returned to neutral.

And now?

Now it was breakfast at the same diner after shift, every Tuesday without fail — him always getting black coffee, you ordering the same banana pancakes you swore you’d try to switch up one day.

Now it was shared glances across the truck when Captain gave new assignments. Subtle, silent nods that said I’ve got you louder than words ever could.

Now it was you and Eddie waiting in line for coffee with Chim, bickering over who gets to use the punch card next.

It was laughing until you wheezed because Hen made a crack about how Eddie’s flirting sounded more like reading Miranda rights.

Now it was Christopher.

Meeting him hadn’t been planned — not really. Eddie had invited you along to the adaptive soccer game he helped coach, casual, no-pressure. You said yes because you wanted to support him.

But then you saw the way his son looked at him. Like he hung the moon.

And then you saw the way Eddie looked at you when you knelt beside Christopher after the game to tie his shoelace, laughing at something he said about wanting to be taller than his dad one day.

You weren’t a stranger to kids — you had nieces and nephews, the occasional firehouse tour where little ones clung to your leg. But with Christopher, it was different. You weren’t trying.

You just fit.

And Eddie saw that.

That scared you more than anything.

Back at the station, Buck noticed.

It wasn’t just the way you and Eddie gravitated toward each other — it was the little things. The way Eddie always saved you a seat. The way you reached for his arm when you laughed. The way you spoke in half-sentences he somehow always understood.

He noticed the way Carla had started asking you if you’d be around next weekend when she planned something for Christopher.

The way you already knew where Eddie kept his protein bars in his locker — because he liked the peanut butter ones, not the chocolate.

It wasn’t subtle.

It wasn’t nothing.

And Buck? Buck was unraveling by the day.

Because he wasn’t just watching the man he considered a brother fall for someone. He was watching you — the person he’d quietly loved, the one he always protected, always hoped would someday look back and see him — fall for someone else.

And worse?

You didn’t seem like you were falling at all.

You looked like you already had.

The revelation came without warning.

You and Eddie had just come back from a routine call — a standard ride-along with a heart patient, nothing intense. You were sitting on the back bumper of the rig, sipping a bottle of water, talking about some beach you wanted to visit in the summer. Eddie was unusually quiet.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. Then hesitated. “I need to tell you something.”

The knot in your stomach formed instantly.

“It’s about my wife,” he said. Your heart stumbled.

“Your… wife?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Shannon.”

You said nothing. The world spun.

“We’re… married, technically. Separated. Long story,” he added quickly, seeing your face drop. “We’ve been off and on for years. We tried again after I left the army, for Christopher. But it didn’t… stick.”

You blinked. “So she’s not… in the picture?”

“She was. Until a few months ago. She’s been back in L.A. Trying to figure things out. With Chris. With me.”

Your stomach turned. “And you didn’t think to mention this sooner?”

Eddie looked pained. “I didn’t know how. It’s not like we were—”

“Not like we were what?” you asked, voice sharp. “Not like we were seeing each other? Sharing breakfast every Tuesday? Like I haven’t met your son?”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

“You just left out your marriage?”

The silence stretched.

You stood up, every bone in your body aching like you’d just taken a fall from three stories up.

“Was this a game to you?” you asked, quieter now.

“No. Never,” he said instantly. “It’s complicated.”

You scoffed. “You think I don’t know complicated?”

But the words felt hollow.

You didn’t wait for a response. You walked away.

And for weeks after that, you barely spoke.

Buck found you in the garage one evening, elbow-deep in engine checks.

“You alright?” he asked.

You didn’t look up. “Fine.”

“I heard about… you and Eddie.”

You paused. “There is no me and Eddie.”

Buck watched you for a moment, saw how your hands moved slower than usual. How your eyes stayed trained on the wrench like it held all the answers.

“I just want you to know,” he said, softer now, “you didn’t deserve that.”

You finally looked at him. “Thanks.”

There was a beat.

Then he added, “He should’ve told you from the start.”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

But even as you said it, something twisted in your chest — because part of you knew he hadn’t meant to hurt you. Part of you remembered the way he looked at you during those quiet in-between moments.

The part of you that hadn’t stopped feeling warm whenever Christopher mentioned you in passing, like you already lived in their orbit.

It wasn’t that you stopped caring.

It was that you stopped trusting.

Eddie didn’t push. Not at first.

He let you have your silence, your distance. He knew he’d earned it. He didn’t make excuses.

But he waited.

He sent you coffee on the days he wasn’t at your side. Asked Hen to check in. Made sure you were still partnered on the rotation board. Never once overstepped.

Just… waited. Quietly. Steadily.

It wasn’t until Shannon’s accident that everything changed.

You weren’t there for it. You only heard about it through quiet whispers and late-night conversations at the firehouse during your shift.

A car crash. Christopher had been in the vehicle too. A drunk driver ran a red light.

Shannon died.

Instantly, it seemed — at least that’s what they told Eddie.

He’d later tell you about the last real conversation they ever had. Not at the accident. Before it.

It was in a hospital waiting room, after another tense day of figuring out how to co-parent. She told him she was thinking of leaving again — for good this time.

That being a mom full-time, being part of Eddie and Christopher’s world again… it just wasn’t what she wanted anymore.

She didn’t say it to be cruel. She said it like someone already halfway out the door.

And then she was gone.

No chance to work it out. No goodbye to Christopher. No final decision made. Just… gone.

Eddie never got to confess the truth to her — that he wasn’t angry anymore, just tired. That he had found peace somewhere outside of what they once had. That he’d started to look at someone else — you — and feel like the future didn’t have to hurt.

So he sat with that guilt.

Not because he still loved her.

But because she was Christopher’s mother. Because they never got closure. Because part of him still blamed himself for not trying harder to keep her safe, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

And when he told you all of this — standing outside the station one evening, his voice low and quiet like it was breaking all over again — you didn’t say anything right away.

You just looked at him. At the pain he wore so openly. At the strength it took to admit that grief wasn’t always linear.

Then you took a step closer. And another.

Until your hand was in his, and neither of you said a word. Because some wounds don’t need fixing.

They just need someone willing to stay.

The distance between you soon narrowed. Slowly, but surely. You started saying good morning again. Let yourself smile at his jokes. Started asking about Christopher.

And then one night — after a long shift, when the sun was rising over the station — Eddie sat beside you on the roof and told you:

“I never wanted to hurt you. But the truth is… you’re the first thing that’s made me feel real in a long time.”

You didn’t say anything.

You just leaned your head on his shoulder.

And for the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel like falling.

It felt like staying.

The quiet between you and Eddie hadn’t been as sharp lately, but it was still there — soft around the edges, cautious. Like stepping on floorboards you weren’t sure were stable anymore.

You were civil. Friendly, even. But the spark, the comfort, the trust — that was still something you kept just out of reach. He knew it too.

Which is why he pulled you aside after shift, asking if you had a moment — his voice low, unsure. You could see the worry in his eyes, the tension in the way he stood, like he was waiting for the ground to split beneath him.

You nodded.

He led you outside, away from the bustle of the station, to where the sun was just beginning to set behind the trees. His hands were shoved in his pockets, jaw tight, like every word was a landmine.

“I owe you another truth,” he said finally.

You stayed quiet. Waiting.

“I saw someone else,” he confessed. “Back when you and I weren’t speaking.”

You froze, your breath catching. “Who?”

He swallowed. “Christopher’s teacher. Ana Flores.”

You tried not to let it show — the way your stomach twisted. You tried to remind yourself you weren’t together. That he had every right. But logic didn’t numb betrayal.

“Right,” you said, quietly. “That’s… understandable.”

“No, it’s not,” he replied quickly. “Not really. Not when I was still carrying you around like a shadow.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“It wasn’t serious,” he added. “But I think… I think I was trying to prove something to myself. That I could move on clean. That I could pick someone safe, someone easy. Someone who didn’t know all the messy parts of me.”

Your throat felt tight. “Did Christopher like her?”

Eddie looked down at the ground and let out a half-laugh. “He tolerated her. Until he didn’t.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?”

He looked back at you then, more vulnerable than you’d seen him in weeks.

“One day he just… called me out for dating his teacher. Said I was being weird. Said I smiled more around you than I ever did around Ana. And then he asked me if I was gonna stop pretending you didn’t make our lives better.”

You didn’t realize you’d been holding your breath.

“He told me,” Eddie went on, “that if I liked Ana, that was fine. But if I loved you, then I needed to stop wasting everyone’s time and admit it. Because in his words, ‘It’s not fun having dinner with someone who isn’t her.’”

You blinked. “Christopher said that?”

Eddie nodded. “He’s smarter than me. Always has been.”

There was a beat.

Then he said, softer now, “He was right. About everything. I kept thinking I needed something easy. But you—” He stopped, took a breath.

“You’re not just someone I like having around. You’re the person who saw all of me and stayed. Until I made you think you shouldn’t.”

Your voice wavered. “You broke my heart.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” he repeated, his voice raw now.

You swallowed hard. “Did Carla say anything?”

Eddie actually winced.

“Yeah. She wasn’t subtle.” That made you raise an eyebrow.

“She told me I was a damn fool,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Said you were one of the kindest people she’d seen around Christopher — and me — and that if I was going to waste that on old guilt and bad timing, then I didn’t deserve either of you.”

You smiled at that, just faintly. “She’s good with words.”

“She’s terrifying when she’s mad.”

That pulled a laugh out of you, soft and surprised.

But then Eddie stepped closer, tentative. Not assuming. Just… hoping.

“I’m not asking you to jump back into something that hurt,” he said gently.

“I just want you to know I’m not running from the hard parts anymore. I don’t want easy. I want real. And real has always been you.”

Your eyes met his.

You didn’t answer right away. But for the first time in a long time, the part of you that had been holding back started to ease.

Because people can change when they’re brave enough to face themselves.

And Eddie Diaz had finally stopped running.

The air in the firehouse was thick with unspoken tension — not from smoke or sirens, but from you and Eddie.

There wasn’t a dramatic announcement, no hand-holding or grand gestures. But the shift was unmistakable.

You laughed with him again, ribbed him during lunch, casually adjusted the collar of his uniform before a call like it was the most natural thing in the world. Eddie had that soft-eyed look around you, the one that said everything even when he said nothing.

Everyone noticed.

Especially Buck.

He didn’t say anything the first few days. Just watched.

Watched you pass each other notes across the table. Watched you wait for Eddie to catch up before grabbing coffee on runs. Watched Eddie find excuses to stay by your side, even when the rotation didn’t require it.

And eventually, it all came to a head.

The call was a simple one — a heat exhaustion case during a community clean-up event. Nothing too intense. You and Eddie worked the scene like a well-oiled machine.

No friction, no hesitation. Just you and him, falling back into rhythm like the months of silence and pain hadn’t existed.

When you returned to the station, Buck pulled Eddie aside without warning. Right there in the apparatus bay.

“Hey. We need to talk.” Eddie blinked, pausing mid-step.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

Buck crossed his arms. “You and Y/N. What’s going on?”

Eddie’s jaw tensed. “That’s between me and her.”

Buck stepped forward. “She’s my friend too, Ed.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” Buck’s voice rose slightly, not angry — not yet — but close. “Because you hurt her. I saw it. I picked up the pieces while you played house with someone else.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” Buck challenged. “Because from where I stood, you disappeared when she needed you most. Then suddenly you’re back like nothing happened?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment.

Then: “I’m not pretending nothing happened. I’ve done nothing but deal with what happened.”

Buck scoffed. “Does she know about Ana?”

“She knows everything.”

“And she still forgave you?” Buck said, incredulous. “After all that?”

Eddie nodded slowly. “She did. Because she’s… her.”

That stopped Buck for a beat. He looked away, jaw tight.

“I never wanted to be in the middle of this,” Buck said, quieter now. “But I’ve known her longer than you. I know what she looks like when she gets her heart broken. And you broke her, man.”

“I know,” Eddie said again, firm now. “And I hate myself for it.”

Buck looked at him, really looked at him. “Then why now? Why come back into her life like this if you’re not absolutely sure?”

“I am sure,” Eddie said, no hesitation this time.

“Christopher’s sure. Carla’s sure. And most days, I think she is too. I’m still earning that. But I don’t want temporary. I want… all of it. Her.”

Buck blinked, caught off guard by the honesty.

“I didn’t plan it,” Eddie continued.

“But she fits into our lives like she was always meant to be there. And I almost lost that because I was scared. Because I didn’t think I deserved to move on.”

The silence stretched. Just the hum of the garage.

Then Buck sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “Christopher likes her?”

“He loves her,” Eddie said. “Told me he was tired of me being stupid about it.”

A quiet laugh broke through Buck’s frustration, against his will.

He looked down for a second. Then back at Eddie.

“You gonna mess it up again?”

“No.”

“Because if you do,” Buck warned, softer now, “you’re not just breaking her heart this time. You’re breaking his too.”

“I know.”

“And mine,” Buck added, after a beat. “Because I trust you. And I love her, so much. So if she’s yours… protect her.”

Eddie’s voice was steady. “I will.”

The tension didn’t disappear, not completely. But something shifted. A silent understanding.

Because Buck didn’t need to win.

He just needed to know you’d be okay.

And now, maybe — just maybe — you finally would be.

The Diaz house was quiet except for the hum of the ceiling fan and the soft bubbling of something simmering on the stove.

You were barefoot in the kitchen, stirring a pan with one hand, swaying lightly to the music playing from Eddie’s speaker.

Eddie was leaned against the counter, watching you with that lazy grin he didn’t use around anyone else — not even at the station.

His gaze lingered on the way your nose scrunched when you tasted the sauce, the way you swatted him playfully when he tried to sneak a bite.

It was domestic. Soft. Easy.

And Buck saw it all from the doorway.

He had come over to drop off a charger Christopher had left in his duffel at the station. He hadn’t expected… this.

The house smelling like garlic and warmth, Christopher at the table drawing something you’d clearly helped him outline. The laughter. The kind of peace Buck hadn’t seen in Eddie’s home since before the storm of the past year.

He didn’t knock.

Eddie spotted him first. “Buck?”

You turned around, eyes widening with surprise, then softening with warmth.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Buck lifted the charger, a sheepish smile playing at his lips. “Thought Chris might need this back.”

“Uncle Buck!” Christopher perked up from his drawing, grinning. “Come in! We’re having spaghetti. And she made garlic bread but didn’t let Dad near it.”

You laughed. “He almost burned the first batch.”

Buck stepped further in, the scent of dinner wrapping around him like a memory. “You guys always have it this nice?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Define nice.”

“I mean—” Buck paused. “—quiet. Normal. Feels like… I don’t know, a real home.”

You and Eddie exchanged a glance. That unspoken tether between you sparking to life again. But instead of brushing it off, Eddie invited Buck to stay.

“Grab a plate,” he said. “We always make too much.”

Buck hesitated, but Christopher’s enthusiasm — and the way you smiled like you wanted him there — made it easier to cross the floor and take a seat.

Dinner was filled with soft chatter and bursts of laughter. Christopher went on about his latest school project, something involving dragons and ancient civilizations.

You asked questions like you meant them, nodding along and gently correcting his pronunciation when he stumbled on a word. Eddie chimed in occasionally, but mostly watched — a silent kind of contentment in his eyes.

Buck ate in silence for the first few minutes. Not because he felt left out. But because he was watching it all unfold like a scene in a movie he used to wish he’d starred in.

You made Christopher feel seen. Valued. Eddie seemed lighter. Happier. The old shadows still lingered — Buck wasn’t blind — but they weren’t as loud as they used to be.

And that twist in Buck’s gut?

It wasn’t bitterness.

It was grief — for what he’d imagined once, maybe. For the possibility that you might’ve chosen him, if things had unfolded differently. But mostly, it was just change.

The ache that comes with watching people you love move forward without you in the center anymore.

After dinner, you and Eddie cleared the table while Christopher pulled Buck over to the couch to show off his drawing. It was a three-headed dragon with fire in its teeth — and all three heads were labeled: You, Dad, and Y/N.

“She helps me name stuff better,” Chris said proudly.

Buck smiled, swallowing the knot in his throat. “You’re lucky to have her.”

Christopher didn’t look up. “Dad is, too.”

Buck sat back as Eddie joined them, handing you a glass of water as he took his spot beside his son. You tucked yourself beside them like you belonged — and maybe, finally, you did.

And that’s when Buck realized something else.

This wasn’t the end of anything.

It was just a different beginning.

And maybe, for the first time, he didn’t have to be the one fixing everything. Maybe he just had to let people be happy.

Even if it wasn’t his happy.

As the night stretched on, Buck caught Eddie’s eye once. No words were exchanged — just a nod. One that said: I see it. I get it. Just take care of them.

And Eddie, steady as ever, nodded back.

I will.

The rest of the 118 listen, equal parts amused and perplexed.

"You know something I don't, Y/N?" Chim asks.

"The one sitting next to you. There's two of you." You giggle. You then stop suddenly, taking Hen's hands in yours. "You have a beautiful aura, Henrietta." You state in the most serious tone.

"Cap..." Eddie starts, concerned. Bobby looks back with an equally concerned look from the driver's seat.

Hen looks at your dilated pupils and notices your elevated heart rate. "I think those brownies were dosed, Cap."

-------------------------

You wake up a few hours later in a hospital room, groggy and like you were coming out of a horrible fog. Bits and pieces were coming back to you, but both your body and brain felt like they were working in slow-motion.

"Hey." A voice murmurs softly. You take note that both Buck and Eddie were there, one on each side of your bed. You would bet good money that the two of them had been by your side for hours, wanting to help in case you woke up feeling anxious or paranoid.

"Hi." You croak out.

"You feelin' okay?" Buck asks, concerned bright blue eyes surveying your face.

"Jury's still out." You say, but give him a reassuring smile nonetheless.

"Here, have some of this." Eddie holds out a glass of something blue. You accept it and down it happily, the cold liquid feeling refreshing going down your throat.

"You scared us." Eddie says.

"I scared myself. Think I've sworn off brownies for the foreseeable future." You joke half-heartedly.

"Maybe we stick to Buck's baked goods for now." Eddie says with a tender smile.

"I'll make you a giant double chocolate chip cookie once we get you out of here." Buck beams, relief marring his features.

“Baby girl, you don’t want to play with me.” You snarl at the woman standing in front of you, closing the space between the two of you. Your eyes lock with hers, cold and unwavering. 

Your fingers make quick work of unclasping the hoops in your ears, setting them down on the bar next to you. 

It was a one time hookup. Eddie had taken her home from this exact same bar, and it just so happened that she was here the very same night you and Eddie had gone out for drinks with Hen and Karen. 

Even worse? Kayla had the audacity to follow you up to the bar, stalking you like she had something to prove.

And being a few vodka crans deep, you could give two shits less if you catch charges. As soon as she touches you, you’re going to let loose. 

“I’m just saying hi to the woman keeping my spot in the bed warm.”

“Oh please.” You laugh, pushing your hair back. The hairtie on your wrist wrapping around your hair. “One night and you’re this confident?”

“He sure as hell hasn’t looked at you the way he looked at me that night.”

You smile, blood surging through your veins, adrenaline causing your heartbeat to ring in your chest. 

“Very cute.” You hum. “But just so we’re clear, I’m the one he comes home to, the one he brings to family dinners. In fact, I should be thanking you for keeping that spot warm for me that night.”

Her face twists in jealousy. You clench your jaw, shifting it to the side. “You really think that you’ll be with him long?”

“This is ridiculous. Get out of my face, now.”

“Or what?” She nudges you. You bite your lip, trying to refrain from reacting. One poke, then another to your chest. “What are you going to do?”

You turn to walk back to the table, not bothering with the drink you ordered. 

So when cold liquid hits the back of your shirt, you snap. 

“What the actual fuck?!” You screech as you whip around. 

Not only had she just thrown a drink at you, it was the same drink that you had left on the bar. The drink you paid for now soaked the back of your shirt. 

You lunge at her. Your fingers swiftly grab at the roots of her hair, yanking her head to the side, hard. A pained sound rumbles in her throat, her fingers clawing at your arm. 

You lean down, putting your face inches away from hers. Her nails claw at your arm in a useless attempt to get you to let go. You’re locked in, too focused on making her back down.

“I warned you not to play with me.” You let go of her hair, pushing her away from you. She stumbles, falling on her ass. 

ou turn towards the bartender, who got a front row seat to the action. She shrugs at you, acting like she didn’t see anything.

"Call the cops, Kayla. Pretty sure throwing a drink at me is battery.”

Your chest is rising and falling fast as you cool down. That’s when you feel him. He grabs your arm, turning you around before tugging you into his chest. 

“Babe, did she touch you?”

You reach up, resting the palm of your hand on his jaw, your thumb rubbing soothingly. His forehead rests on yours

“Besides a wet shirt, I’m fine.”

“You scared me.” His voice is soft, quieter.

You lean up to press a kiss to his lips. He practically melts, the rigid line of his shoulders softening beneath your touch. 

He cups your cheek, voice dropping into a lower octave, his tone laced with protection. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” His eyes scan your face, your body. The look in his eye falters, shifting into a burning gaze.

“You really took the hoops out?”

“I just knew that she was going to come at me.” You smirk, clasping your hands behind his neck. His hands rest on your waist. “Had to protect myself.”

“Shit.” He exhales. His fingers dig into your curves. “Now we have a problem.”

“What’s that? If she wants to press charges, the most I’ll get is a citation. Besides, I don’t think you have any room to talk, Mr. Fight Club.”

“I’m not worried about that.” His fingers dig into your curves, squeezing you with bruising strength. He shifts, his groin resting on your upper thigh. 

“Oh!” 

“Yeah, oh. You know exactly what you do to me.” The look of concern in his eyes is gone, replaced with dark lust. He tugs his lower lip inbetween his mouth, groaning slightly. 

“If Hen and Karen weren’t here-” 

There’s a long pause. Heat washes over you, arousal pooling in your core. His eyelids flutter shut at the thought.

  “You’d what?” You press, already knowing where this is going. 

“I’d have you bent over the sink, taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

You press your forehead against his shoulder with a small whimper. You feel your knees weaken. Your stomach tightens.

You knew the answer. But hearing it? That sealed your fate. 

“Think we could get away with leaving early?” You mutter into his shirt,  subtly pressing yourself against the bulge in his jeans. A pang of pleasure sparks as you press your clit just right against his hardened cock. 

“Definitely. Wet shirt and wet panties? I have to take my girl home and take care of her. I’m sure Hen would understand.”

“Hey, I think you want this.” The bartender walks over, another drink on the counter, the hoops beside it. 

“Thank you.” Eddie mutters, reaching into his back pocket. He pulls out his wallet, tossing a twenty onto the counter. “Close my tab, Eddie, and there’s a tip.”

“Will do. Thank you and have a great night.”

“You too.”’ Your response simultaneously. 

You grab your earrings and the drink, Eddie’s hands not leaving your waist. You lead him through the crowd, and he uses you as his shield, pressed against your backside to hide his hard on.

“Thought I was going to have to back you up.” Hen greets you as you slide into the booth across from the couple. Eddie is beaming with pride, turning his attention towards you.

“My girl’s a badass.”

“May have to cut this night short. My back is soaked.”

“Sure that’s the only thing?”

“Karen!” Your jaw drops in shock, cheeks cherry red as you sputter on your drink. The table laughs, Eddie’s hand creeping onto your thigh. 

The pads of his fingers rub your inner thigh, trailing higher, adding fuel to the fire. A soft stroke against your core has your breath catching your throat. You shut your thighs, trapping his hand. 

He makes quick work of pushing his fingers down, the cloth sliding inbetween your folds as he rubs up and down. You sip on the drink to help stifle a moan. 

“All I’m saying is if Karen got into a fight over me, I’d be taking her home early too.”

Eddie reaches over, fist bumping Karen. You shake your head, unable to wipe the large grin off of your cheeks. The heat of the moment has dissipated, replaced with laughter and love. 

***

By the time the front door shut, Eddie was on you. You barely had time to kick your shoes off before he gripped yoru waist and dragged you into the kitchen. 

He presses your chest against the counter, right infront of the sink, as he quickly yanks your leggings down. You hear his zipper being pulled down, and you push your hips back. 

Eddie had you all over the house that night. Dark marks littered your skin, marking you as his. Your earrings, put back in, swaying with each thrust, hand wrapped in your ponytail, and othertimes his fingers were laced with yours.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

"Well, hello there." He says, crouching down to peer into your blanket fort. You and Chris were on your stomachs, reading a comic book together. A plate of cookies sat abandoned to the side of you, and Eddie is overcome with how much love he has for his family. "Can I join you?"

"Only if you give us the password." Chris grins.

"Password, huh? Is it Eddie is the best?" Eddie jokes.

Even though you and Chris don't share any DNA, the unamused, deadpan looks from the two of you were so identical, Eddie couldn't help but laugh.

Whack!

Before Eddie can process what had just happened, he hears - or rather feels - another whack! as Christopher throws another pillow at his face.

"Run Christopher! Save yourself!" You scream, before the two of you rush out of the blanket fort.

Eddie laughs in delight, before playfully chasing the two of you. Chris eventually tires and sits at the kitchen table with a big smile on his face. You were a bit more difficult to catch; but Eddie eventually sneaks up behind you, wraps his arms around your middle and lifts you off the ground.

Eddie kisses your cheek soundly with a big mwah. "So what was the password, sweetheart?"

"That." You laugh breathlessly.

"What?"

"The password was a kiss." You clarify.