#ask emma

Eddie thinks Buck might be trying to kill him.

Well, trying is a strong word. The death of it all is probably unintentional, but it’s going to kill him all the same.

It starts when Buck shows up for a shift and announces that he and Tommy will be consciously uncoupling. 

“Isn’t that, like, divorce?” Hen asks. “Y’all are barely dating. It’s been, what, two months?” 

“Two and a half,” Buck says. “Breakup didn’t feel right. Too serious.” 

“Pretty sure divorce is more serious,” Chimney points out, and Buck sighs.

“We will be discontinuing our cooperation,” he says, and Hen snorts.

“Didn’t know you guys had a startup.” 

“Oh my god,” Buck says. “We’re just not seeing each other anymore, okay?”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” Chimney asks, and Buck reaches for the closest thing to throw at him. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, when Buck finishes fiddling with his cup of coffee and takes the seat next to him at the table. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s what—” Buck starts, then sighs. “I mean it’s not whatever, but it’s not a huge deal, you know?” 

“So,” Chimney says before Eddie can find a reply. “What’s next? Are you on the hunt for the next guy?” 

Buck wrinkles his brow. “When have I ever been on the hunt?” Then he holds up a hand. “Actually, don’t answer that. Buck 1.0 was definitely—but I’m not that guy anymore. I’m just gonna let the universe come to me.” 

“That’s a lot of faith to have in the universe,” Eddie says, and Buck—

Buck gives him a look he’s never seen before. One he doesn’t quite know how to read. 

“Faith,” Buck says. “Yeah. I’ve got that.” 

—

Then comes the touching. And the problem is that no matter how much he wracks his brain, Eddie can’t remember if Buck has always touched him this much or if he’s just suddenly become hyperaware of it overnight.

It’s a thigh pressed against his in the back of the engine, the heat of Buck’s body palpable even through two layers of turnouts.

It’s hands brushing against each other when they walk side by side, and the sudden, absurd impulse Eddie has to just take Buck’s hand.

It’s Buck’s fingers drifting along the back of Eddie’s neck when Buck walks past the couch Eddie is sitting on, and the shiver that zips down Eddie’s spine in response. 

It’s all of this, and it’s more, and it’s going to be the death of Eddie because every errant bit of contact makes his blood sing. And what is he supposed to do with that?

—

He knows what he’s supposed to do with it, and that’s the part that’s actually going to kill him. 

Because it’s Buck. Bold, brave, beautiful Buck, who falls in love with the world a little bit each day. Who loves easily, and wholeheartedly, and has only ever wanted someone to love him the same way. And Eddie—

Eddie would give Buck everything he has. But how could it ever be enough?

It’s not enough that Eddie wants. Buck deserves more than that, more than the small, atrophied part of him somewhere deep inside that remembers how to want. 

Buck deserves the world. All Eddie has to give him are the fractured pieces of all the different people he’s been, soldier father husband son, glued together as best as he can.

But it’s hard to remember that, here on the couch in the firehouse loft in the shadows cast by the kitchen lights, the only ones left on in the middle of the night. It’s hard to remember that when Buck is asleep with his head pillowed on Eddie’s leg, curled in towards him, his face relaxed and unwrinkled in sleep.

It’s hard to remember that when Buck shifts, searching, and settles when his hand fists in the hem of Eddie’s shirt. 

It’s getting harder to remember day by day, but it’s also getting harder to believe. Because when Buck opens his eyes and blinks the sleep out of them, his soft, murmured hey sounds a lot like the first word of the rest of his life. 

“What upppppppp…..? Why is my bathtub broken?”

- @americasrealhero

You're making me blush! ☺️ but tysm, that's so great to hear!

AND ANYA

U CAN CALM DOWN NOW

Okay,

I have had a few discussions, and some time to reflect on this last episode, and 4x12 was actually enjoyable on a few levels!

The big thing that I have been thinking about ever since I saw it giffed, took place at the beginning of the date: After the waitress left and Tim turned mostly to Lucy, and asked if any of that was English. That kicked off the behaviour of the date, which included Tim leaning towards Lucy, turning towards her, telling stories about her, debating big life things with her, and discussing after life plans. Neither Tim or Lucy are social inept, for them to just blow past the reactions of Chris and Ashley shows that they are used to being a unit when they interact with others.

What I keep coming back to, is the way that Tim turned to Lucy.

Tim is uncomfortable at this dinner, he doesn't like the venue, or the food, and he feels just a little wrong footed, so he turned to the one person he feels most comfortable with. That one person is not his girlfriend of a couple months, but the Rookie he trained and now rides with. That is a big deal. He is literally sleeping with Ashley, but Lucy is one he turns to.

Everything about the date - the staging, the framing, the discussion - all of it speaks to the Chenford of it all. This was the most intentional that the creative team has been with Chenford this entire season.

I maintain that a seed was planted, however small, however deep, in both Chris and Ashley's minds about what exactly will be a barrier in their respective relationships.

Eddie wants to get the hell out of here.

He feels kind of bad about it, because Bobby and Athena throw a great barbecue, and any other day of the week he’d love to grab a beer and settle in for as long as they’ll have him. Any other day of the year, really—

Just not the same day Buck kissed him.

He’d always imagined that if he ever scraped enough resolve together to try something with Buck, it would happen in the heat of the moment. After a close call on a rescue, maybe, or at a bar after a shift sometime, when he has just enough alcohol in him to push past the nagging doubts in his mind.

He’d always imagined that if anything ever happened, it would be because he took that first step. He could, when he was feeling hopeful, imagine Buck would be into it, but it had never even crossed his mind that Buck might want him enough to be the one to cross the invisible line between friends and something more. 

Only—

Two hours ago, he stood in the firehouse parking lot and watched Buck pace and forth in the artificially bright glow of a streetlamp for all of thirty seconds before drawing to a stop right in front of him, toe to toe across the faded outline of a parking space. 

“I’m going to do something,” Buck said, the warmth of his exhale ghosting across Eddie’s skin. “And you can tell me if I’m wrong. But—” he hooked one finger in the belt loop of Eddie’s jeans, tugging slightly, and the movement danced like lightning down Eddie’s spine. 

“—I don’t think I’m wrong.” 

And he tugged on the belt loop again, pulling Eddie closer into his space, and pressed his mouth to Eddie’s.

It seemed to last a lifetime, and it was over far too soon. Buck pulled back, careful, drawing a ragged breath, and Eddie leaned into chase him and found Buck grinning against his lips.

“Not wrong, then?” Buck murmured, and it took Eddie a moment to remember what Buck had said just before.

“Definitely not wrong,” he breathed. The words were half-lost in Buck’s mouth but he must have understood them anyway, because he laughed, bright and clear, before pushing Eddie up against the car behind him to kiss him again.

It was only when Buck’s phone rang, vibrating in his pocket so that Eddie felt it against his own thigh, that they remembered the barbecue. And that they’d promised to bring ice.

So now Eddie’s here, and for the first time he can remember he desperately wants to leave. 

He and Buck hadn’t really talked about it, so he’s trying to act normal. Which is to say he’s trying to act like he doesn’t want to walk across Bobby and Athena’s backyard and grab Buck by the collar to drag him in for another kiss. Or to demand what the fuck it means. 

He would describe himself as moderately successful. 

But in Eddie’s defence, if the rest of them knew the situation he doesn’t think they could blame him for the way his eyes keep getting drawn to Buck no matter where he is, like the universe is shining a spotlight on him. It’s not his fault Buck’s laugh lights up the room and he can’t help but look.

It’s not his fault that Buck catches him looking, sometimes, and smiles a smile that says he’s thinking about what happened in the parking lot. 

A smile that says he’s thinking about doing it again.

And it—well, maybe it is his fault when he grins back, his face trying to settle on something somewhere between wanting and bashful, but there are extenuating circumstances. He is, after all, only one man. 

Overall, Eddie’s pretty sure nobody could blame him for the fact that he wants to get the hell out of here.

Just then, Hen sidles up to where he’s leaning against the kitchen island and settles in next to him, mirroring his position and crossing her arms. 

“You should take your man home,” she says. 

Eddie flushes, and she laughs.

“You’re not being particularly subtle,” she says. “Either of you. I don’t know what happened exactly—” she raises a hand when Eddie tries to open his mouth “—and I don’t need to know. But you should take him home before it happens again on Bobby and Athena’s patio.” 

Eddie’s face feels so warm he’s surprised he can’t see cartoon heat lines wafting off his cheeks. 

Hen laughs again, gentler this time. “No one’s judging you, Eddie,” she says, and nudges him with her elbow. “I remember what it was like in the beginning. So go, take him home. I know you want to.” 

“I—yeah,” Eddie says, and lets himself grin. “I really do.” 

He doesn’t need to look for Buck, because he already knows where he is. He makes his way across the room, through their gathered friends and family, and over to where Buck is talking to Chimney. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as he does it, but Hen said it was obvious anyway, so he takes a deep breath and stands behind Buck, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder. 

“Hi,” Buck says, breathy with surprise but his cheeks pink with pleasure.

“Hen said I should take my man home,” Eddie says, and makes a concerted effort not to look at Chimney. He focuses instead on Buck’s cheek against his, and the way it crinkles when he smiles.

“Did she?” Buck says. “I guess we should listen to the captain, then.” 

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Eddie murmurs. They slip through the room, and Eddie tries to avoid Hen’s knowing look as they duck out of the front door without bothering with goodbyes.

As soon as the door closes, Eddie grabs Buck by the hips and pushes him against it, crowding into his space. “This is all I’ve been thinking about all night.”

“It’s only been two hours,” Buck says.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot longer than two hours,” Eddie says, and watches Buck’s eyes go dark. Then he grins. “Besides, do you want to nitpick, or do you want to kiss me?” 

“I can multitask,” Buck says, and Eddie laughs and kisses him for it, and for a moment the world narrows to just the two of them, wrapped up in each other against Bobby’s front door.

“Actually,” Buck murmurs, a moment or three later, when Eddie’s forehead rests against Buck’s and both their breaths come a little heavy. “I wanna change my answer.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “To what?” 

“I want you to take me home.”

Calling it the shift from hell might, in hindsight, be overselling it a little bit. It’s mostly just… annoying.

They keep getting called out for things that end up not actually being calls.

There’s a fire in a public park, but it turns out someone just had an incident with a birthday candle, and the whole thing was stamped out between someone calling 9-1-1 and the 118 actually getting there. Buck vaults out of the engine, already half-reaching for the hose, and stops like he’d slammed into an invisible wall when he sees the small, scorched-out circle of grass. It’s not even smoking anymore.

There’s a patient who got stung by a bee and went into anaphylactic shock, but by the time they get on scene all that’s left is an overzealous passerby. “I told her I called an ambulance,” he said, “But she stabbed herself with her Epi-Pen—”

“—Injected,” Hen mutters.

“—And called herself an Uber.” 

Buck sighs.

There’s a report of a missing child, only three blocks from where they are, and they race to the scene with lights and sirens blaring only to find the mother clutching her son and crying tears of relief. It turns out he’d just been hiding behind a planter, watching an army of ants march by with their bounty from the nearby food court.

And Buck isn’t mad. Of course he isn’t. He can’t be mad about a child not being missing. 

But he is, however, full of adrenaline with no place to go, which might be clouding his judgement a little as he texts Eddie this is the shift from HELL.

Then the radio crackles, and they’re off again. 

Three non-calls later, there is a decided tension in the air as they pull into the app bay. 

“Did anyone say the q-word?” Chimney asks. “There’s something wrong with this shift. Come on, fess up, we won’t bite.” 

“Much,” Hen mutters, as all eyes turn to Ravi. He holds up both hands in protest.

“Not me,” he says. “I learned my lesson the first time. Promise.” Then he frowns. “Does anyone else smell… cheese?” 

Chimney rolls his eyes. “Nice try,” he says. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, you kn—”

“No, wait,” Hen says. “It kind of smells like—”

“Cheese,” Buck agrees, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from.

Behind him, someone’s phone lets out a camera shutter sound. He turns to find Hen aiming her phone at him, thumbing at the volume button but not looking the slightest bit contrite.

“You’re sniffing the air like a literal dog,” she says, shrugging at him. “I figure Eddie’s gonna get a kick out of it.”

Heat flares across Buck’s cheeks, and Hen grins. “You ever going to do something about that?” 

“I—” Buck says, and dismisses each of the seventy-three things he could possibly say in response. Because—

“Guys,” Chimney says from outside the engine. “It’s Eddie.” 

Buck scrambles to his feet and out of the engine. It’s Eddie could mean any number of things. Eddie could be hurt, or dead, or—

Or standing at the loft railing next to a towering stack of pizza boxes. 

Which makes a lot more sense.

“Heard you guys could use some lunch,” Eddie calls out. Then his eyes land on Buck, and his face cracks into a smile Buck is already starting to think of as home. Any lingering annoyance at the morning they’ve had melts away, replaced with a warmth that floods through him in time with the racing beat of his heart. 

Ravi cheers, and they jostle and elbow each other on the way up the stairs. Everyone descends on the pizza boxes, but Buck joins Eddie at the railing. 

“Hell might have been a tiny bit of an exaggeration,” he admits.

Eddie laughs, bumping his elbow against Buck’s and sending shivers radiating from the place they touched.

“I know,” he murmurs. “I checked with Maddie. But it sounded annoying, so—”

Buck swallows any other words Eddie might have intended to say. 

It isn’t the first time he kisses Eddie, but it can still be counted on just his two hands. He’s still learning the way Eddie fits against him, the current that runs through him when their lips touch. He’s still surprised by the way Eddie’s hand fists in the front of his uniform, like now that they’re finally this close he never wants to let go again. 

Buck grins, and feels Eddie’s mouth curve in unison with his.

“To be clear,” Chimney calls out, somewhere behind them. “I also appreciate the pizza. But I will not be doing all that.” 

Buck laughs, holds his middle finger up in the vague direction of Chimney’s voice, and kisses Eddie again.