3:17

“He’s here, Chim’s got him.”

“I’m okay, Eddie. You gotta stay still.” Buck limped over to where they had laid Eddie on a backboard, Chim hurrying to Hen’s side to help stabilize Eddie.

“I’ve gotta tell you Buck-”

“No, you gotta stay quiet baby, they’re sending another aid car. Just hang on.” Buck placed one hand gently ontop of Eddie’s hand, one of the few places that remained unharmed.

“I need to tell you, please, Buck-” Eddie choked, gagging and spitting up blood before he could finish his sentence.

“I already know, Eddie, don’t- don’t do this. You’re gonna be fine.”

Eddie sighed, closing his eyes momentarily as Buck and Chim lifted the backboard onto a gurney. They could hear sirens in the distance, hoping the sound meant Bobby had managed to find an available aid car.

Eddie grabbed onto Buck’s hand again, his grip loose. “I love you.”

Buck swallowed, tears threatening to fall as Hen and Chim studiously avoided looking at him as they monitored Eddie’s vitals.

“And I love you.”

Eddie grinned a little, teeth shiny with blood. “And I want you to know-”

“Stop it, Eddie, you’re gonna be fine.” Buck shook his head, tears falling in earnest now.

“-’m so glad I got to marry you.”

“What?” Chim interjected, Hen and Bobby wearing matching looks of stunned silence.

“Best-” Eddie choked again, wheezing as more blood dripped from his mouth. “Best decision I ever made.”

Buck laughed wetly. “You aren’t getting out of this that easily. You’ve been shot four times, you can handle one little explosion. You can’t make me widower; I haven't taken out an insurance policy on you yet.”

Eddie snorted, wincing in pain. “Rookie mistake.”

Buck kissed his hand as the aid car approached. He turned to Bobby, Hen, and Chim. “Um, I’m gonna ride with him.”

Eddie’s barely made it out of the bar when Buck catches up to him with quick steps. He keeps walking, doesn’t turn around.

“Hey, Eddie, is everything okay? Where are you going?”

“Home.” The reply’s too curt for his own taste. He grimaces. “Have fun tonight.”

“Wait, Eddie, what—” Buck grabs his arm and pulls him to a stop. “Are you— are you jealous?”

“Shut up, I’m not jealous.”

He is. God help him, he is.

Buck stares and stares and stares and stares.

“Shut up,” Buck says, but he lets Eddie match his step, lets their shoulders and elbows collide together like they always do when they walk this close, “I’m not jealous.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, genuinely amused by the whole thing. “Okay. If you say so. Just don’t break my ankle this time.”

“I’m not jealous!” Buck insists.

“Good, ‘cause you don’t have competition.”

Buck snorts. “I know I’m hot, but you are too. Very.”

Eddie huffs, “Thanks, Buck. But that’s not what I meant.”

Eddie keeps walking; Buck freezes and stares. “Wh—what— What did you mean?”

No answer.

Eddie starts noticing things he’s never really noticed before. Like, Tommy only ever calls Buck “Evan,” like it’s some kind of nickname or cutesy pet name or term of endearment.

More than making him feel crazy, it’s starting to actively piss him off. He objectively and rationally knows he has little reason to be pissed—but therapy has taught him that his feelings are what they are and to let himself feel them.

So, for some reason Eddie can’t figure out, Eddie is pissed —at himself, at Tommy, at Buck. Mostly at himself lately, but also at God.

He’s not even sure if he believes in God, which adds to his unmoored frustration.

“Unmoored.” That sounds like a Buck word. It sounds like a homework-vocab work he’d have gone over with Christopher, and that pisses Eddie off too, that everything is neglecting Christopher right now.

So Eddie does something stupid. He starts following around a woman who looks like his late wife.

:-:-:-:

It’s not like Kim deserves this—she’s actually pretty great, all things considered—but the resemblance is uncanny. And Eddie needs healing, by hood or by crook.

And there’s another weird phrase that his self-examination can’t reconcile—just like he can’t reconcile why he’s following Kim around like a kicked puppy. To her credit, she’s very kind, and she’s subjectively his type, if Shannon is any real precedent.

But Eddie is starting to think she’s not. He’s starting to think he’s gay.

:-:-:-:

“Is Buckaroo joining today?” Chimney asks, spinning a basketball on one finger.

“How do I know?” Eddie snaps without thinking. “I’m not his keeper.”

“Whoa, Eddie,” Chimney says, catching the ball mid-spin. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I just mean—Tommy would know, right? Better than me.”

“You’re still his best friend, Eddie.”

They’re the last ones to leave the station at the end of the shift. Buck ties his shoes while Eddie slips his jacket on; it’s all business as usual.

This time, the pet name is a genuine slip of the tongue.

“Hey, amor, maybe we can get breakfast—”

Eddie interrupts, “Are you flirting with me?”

Buck freezes. “Maybe? I mean— Yes. Yeah, I am.”

Eddie stares for long enough that Buck is surprised when he crosses the gap between them and pulls him into a kiss. Buck is not complaining.

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It was late one Friday night and Buck and Eddie were hanging out together at Buck’s loft. Chris was off at a sleepover with his friends, so Eddie had made his way to hang out with his own best friend.

“Oh come on Eddie, you can’t tell me that this isn’t cool!” Buck said as he moved around the kitchen. He was in the process of making dinner while Eddie sat at the table, beer in hand. “Buck, as much as I love the thoughts that come out of your head, I’m really starting to think your phone needs parental controls to prevent these late night Wikipedia binges.” Eddie teased, pointing his beer at Buck.

“Reincarnation Eddie! Think about it!” Buck set a plate of pasta in front of Eddie before sitting down with his own plate. “Buck, pretty boy, my best friend. You know I don’t believe in that stuff.”

Buck’s brain seemingly shorted out at that one.

“You called me pretty boy.” Buck said, pointing a finger at Eddie. “Are you…flirting with me?” Eddie only smirked and took a sip of his beer. “Up to your interpretation Buckley.”

“We’ll…talk about this after dinner.” Buck took a sip of his own beer, a red flush high upon his cheeks.

The longer it goes on, the more ridiculous it gets. Eddie’s imagination goes rampant , re-thinking and re-doing every damn interaction with Buck he’s ever had.

He would have asked him out for coffee within a week, if only he’d known. He would have hugged him a little bit harder that first time, if only he’d had his shit together. He’d have—he’d have kissed Buck after seeing he was safe from the tsunami, from the lightning strike, from his blood clot.

Eddie hisses in pain; Hen winces sympathetically. Buck tries to pull away at the sound, but Eddie immediately pulls him back into the same tight hug. They exchange quiet words that Hen can’t hear. Their hug’s followed by an equally bruising kiss, Buck cupping Eddie’s jaw with gentle hands.

Hen glances at Chim, raises her eyebrows. Chim’s eyes flicker toward them, then back at her in reply.

“Guys,” Buck turns to them with teary eyes when he and Eddie pull away, “this is my husband, Eddie.”

Hen’s jaw drops; Chim has a similar expression on his face.