#abby writes

cut to the night of eddie and chris moving home, they spent most of the afternoon into the evening unpacking the uhaul, chris has gone to bed and buck and eddie are sitting on the couch together sharing a beer, both utterly exhausted but neither wanting to break from their peaceful little bubble, until eddie yawns big and loud and buck goes ‘you should take the bed tonight—you’ve been driving all day and your back doesn’t need to be more fucked up than it already is’ and eddie looks at him like hes grown two heads and goes ‘don’t be silly, we’ll share the bed. it’s not like we haven’t done it before’ and buck obviously can’t say ‘well that was before i realized i was bisexual. and also maybe am in love with you’ so instead he goes ‘haha, yeah, of course’ and when they get in bed buck ends up lying so stiff that eddie rolls his eyes (which buck doesn’t see because he’s pointedly staring at the ceiling) and goes ‘buck, hey, relax. it’s just me—it’s not like i don’t know about how you snore like a grandpa’ which does get buck to relax a little because he turns to glare at eddie insisting ‘i don’t snore like a grandpa’ and eddie gives him a toothy smile, reaches out to pat him on the cheek (which buck totally doesn’t tense up again because of) and says ‘sure bud, just get some sleep, i’m not gonna kick you out of bed in the middle of the night’ and then rolls over and goes to sleep. the next night when they are once again sitting on the couch together nursing beers, eddie stands up, smacking his thighs and declares that it’s time for bed and before buck can even suggest any kind of sleeping arrangement eddie holds out his hand for buck to use to haul himself off the couch with a ‘c’mon bud’ and eddie, instead of letting go once buck’s on his feet, turns and tugs buck along with him to the bedroom, leaving no room for buck to protest as he declares he’s taking the bathroom first and buck can just get changed in the bedroom while he waits.

cue a montage of the next couple of nights where buck, trying to be normal about it, ends up getting some of the worst sleep of his life because he forces himself to stay awake as long as possible to make sure eddie’s actually fallen asleep and then subsequently makes sure he wakes up in the morning before eddie, nights spent at the firehouse are actually a reprieve for him, at least the ones where they can actually lie down in the bunk room for a little while. which works for a little while until they end up having a particularly grueling shift with back to back calls allowing for little to no rest, buck finds ravi after their shift is done while eddie is still in the showers washing off sewer (he drew the short straw) and asks if he could crash in his guest room that night. ravi raises his eyebrows and responds with a teasing smirk ‘what did eddie finally kick you out?’ and buck, slightly offended on eddies behalf replies ‘no of course not’ to which ravi’s eyebrows manage to raise slightly higher and buck, slightly panicking blurts ‘eddie and chris are having a father-son bonding night and i don’t want to intrude’ and ravi just kinda stares at him for a moment and buck hastily adds on ‘i’ll make dinner?’ and ravi, not one to argue with the offer of free food shrugs and says ‘sure’ and they agree that buck will come by around 6 and its set.

except eddie and chris don’t have any kind of father-son bonding night planned, and buck has to come up with an excuse for why he’s heading out for the evening and, again panicking slightly, tells eddie that he had a date. to which eddie raises his eyebrows and goes ‘you’re dating again?’ and buck, already set in the lie, responds ‘just, uh, just casually. i’m not—not looking for anything serious right now, just trying to, y’know, get back on that horse?’ and eddie is quiet for a moment just looking at buck and then says ‘right, sure.’ and buck turns to leave but pauses again, ‘uh, don’t wait up? i don’t know how late i’ll be’ and eddie, voice going slightly funny replies ‘right, uh, i guess—have fun?’ and buck nods, pleased with himself for his on the spot improvisational skills, and heads out the front door.

the night spent at ravi’s rejuvenates buck and he is able to fall back into the routine he crafted for himself to be able to share the bed with eddie for about another week until the lack of sleep catches up with him again and he finds himself reaching out to ravi again, this time claiming ‘chris is having a sleepover and it’d be kinda hard to crash on the couch when theres a whole bunch of teenagers camped out in the living room determined to stay awake as long as possible’ and offers to bring ravi some of his latest batch of baked goods and ravi once again is like. sure man. because who turns down buck’s blueberry surprise muffins? and anyway everything is once again set. except for the fact that there isn’t any actual sleepover happening at the diaz house that night, so buck once again makes up a date, and once again tells eddie ‘not to wait up’ and eddie doesn’t ask how the date went the next morning when he wakes up to buck making breakfast.

and it continues on like that for a few weeks, buck making up some kind of reason he needs to be out of the diaz house for a night to ravi and then telling eddie he’s got another date and not to wait up and buck foolishly thinks he’s hacked the system.

until the fifth time it happens, buck comes home from ravi’s place to find eddie already awake, sitting on the couch, waiting for him. eddie doesn’t meet buck’s eyes when he says ‘this is your fifth date this month’ and buck, confused replies ‘uh, yeah, guess so’ ‘same person? seems like it could be getting a little bit serious’ and buck rubs at the back of his neck ‘oh, no, uh, different—different people’ and eddie, still not looking at buck goes ‘really? i mean—you haven’t felt a spark with any of them?’ and buck chuckles nervously, entirely unprepared for this conversation and replies ‘uh, no, guess not’ and eddie finally, finally looks at buck and goes ‘why are you lying to me?’ he holds up his own phone like a piece of evidence ‘we have location sharing on, remember? i know you’ve been going to ravi’s’ and buck, deer in the headlights, completely panics and blurts out ‘i’m sleeping with him’ and eddie, looking suddenly very confused, eyes squinting slightly says ‘what?’ and buck, already climbing into the hole he’s dug for himself goes, ‘we’re having sex. me and ravi' and eddie is once again staring at him like he's grown a second head and buck decides to make a stealthy retreat (read: goes to the kitchen and makes a bit of an extravagant breakfast) and then chris is awake and the conversation doesn’t get brought back up.

except, they have a shift that same day, and while buck initially is grateful for this, about 4 hours into their 24, ravi comes up to buck while he’s doing inventory in the supply closet and goes ‘hey, uh, did—did i do something to make eddie mad at me? because i feel like he’s mad at me.’ and buck replies ‘what? no. eddie isn’t mad at you’ and ravi goes ‘are you sure? because he’s been acting…a little weird? but like, specifically to me?’ and buck is like ‘pshh, what? no he isnt. hes just being—regular eddie.’ and then in comedic timing eddie appears, does a slight double take at buck and ravi standing together in the supply closet, makes a weird face ‘sorry, didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt anything.’ and he says it like the words are sour in his mouth, still looking between buck and ravi, and then he seemingly remembers why he came looking for them in the first place and says ‘food’s ready’ and then promptly spins on his heel and leaves before buck or ravi can say anything.

The worst part, however, was the fact you hadn’t been able to join him on the campaign trail. All of his advisors, and even some of the more favorable reporters, told him it was best for his presidential prospects if you stayed back home. He didn’t care, of course. You were his wife now and everyone should’ve gotten over your relationship a long time ago. Admittedly, sleeping with his secretary wasn’t the most morally pure thing he’d ever done, but it wasn’t anyone’s business but God’s and the Pope’s.

The age gap was still too much for a lot of stuck up, straight-laced people to handle. A poll had even recently come out saying it was “unseemly” for a man of his age to be with such a young woman. Why someone would take the time to poll people about that, or why people would bother to answer, was beyond him. What a waste of time. You’d been mortified, though, and wouldn’t acquiesce to his insistence you join him. You remained home, curled up in one of his dress shirts, simultaneously entertaining and worrying yourself by watching news coverage of the campaign. Without you there, he wasn’t campaigning at full force, and everyone knew it. There was surely to be a write up of his poor performance in the papers soon. A part of him was gone and he couldn’t hide it. He didn’t want to.

In his darkest moments, though, he thought maybe everyone was right. It was for the best that you didn’t see him in front of this kind of crowd. From a podium, he stared out into the sea of faces that hated him the most: college kids. These young people weren’t his base, they were McCarthy’s. He was more comfortable speaking to a group of young Native Americans or rural farmworkers than people who were like him, and these kids were the spitting image of a younger Bobby Kennedy, back in Harvard all those years ago. The arrogance and distaste seeped off of them. They especially didn’t like when he talked about his desire to end student deferments, so he naturally mentioned that right away. It was a good way to set the mood.

He rattled off points from a prepared speech, glancing down at it every now and then and cutting out full paragraphs, depending on what he really wanted to talk about. At the apogee of his speech, a man- boy, really- in a black turtleneck and horn-rimmed glasses raised up a white sign. Probably another one telling me to get a haircut, Bobby thought. He ran his hand through the floppy mop of brown hair in his face. But he wasn’t one to let a heckler or an unsavory sign go unchallenged, especially here. That had been one of the best parts of the campaign, challenging the preconceived notions of people who had already decided he wasn’t worth their time. Still speaking, his eyes set in on the sign.

In bold, black letters, the boy had written “Go back home to your slut in New York!”

Bobby stopped in his tracks. “Go back home to your slut in New York,” he slowly read off. He could barely get the words out. He ground his teeth so hard and he was so tense it was like he was choking the words out rather than speaking them. Most of the crowd, previously disinterested, raised their heads at his language. Bobby pointed at the boy. “The sign says go back home to your slut in New York,” he repeated. The more he said it, the closer a vein was to bursting out of his forehead. He cleared his throat, spread his hands out on the podium, and took a deep breath. It was best not to show a crowd you were unnerved by them, but this time, he couldn’t help it.

“That’s no way to talk about a woman!” A female voice in the crowd spoke up. Bobby’s eyes widened. A wave of murmurs crashed in agreement. The entire crowd was looking around simultaneously, searching for the sign. It wasn’t hard to spot. The boy might have been raising it even higher now that he’d been called out. Bobby wanted to punch the smug look right off of his face.

“Put that thing down!” Another woman said.

Someone else chimed in, “Get it from him!”

Bobby stood up straighter. He was still inwardly seething, but he couldn’t help it: he smiled. Maybe that’s what it took to win people to his side. “Don’t worry about it, he must’ve been at the wedding,” he joked. The crowd guffawked louder than they needed to. Maybe it was a little out of awkwardness or relief they weren’t all about to get lashings for one kid’s ugly words, but it calmed the mood. Bobby scanned their laughing faces for the boy, but he was harder to spot this time. He’d put his sign down. A bright red face stared back at him.

Smirking, Bobby looked away and raised his hand to silence the crowd. They followed. “I don’t have to do this,” his voice remained light, but he frowned again. “I could go back home to my wife,” he stressed the relationship instead of the unfair epithet you’d been given, “and Lord know’s she’d be happy about it. I enjoy being a senator, but I think my favorite job is being a husband.” The students awwed, but he talked over them. “Instead, I’m here…” He paused for a moment to build suspense. “I’m here because I want to be your next president.”

The crowd went wild.