Archive of Our Own ^beta

Buck knows it’s going to be a bad day when he wakes up and his leg is on fire.

The phantom pain of being crushed alive always comes back out to play when the day ahead of him is going to be absolute shit, and Buck is the king of bad days. Like everything else in his life, he doesn’t half-ass. If he’s going to have a bad day, you better believe that it’ll be the soul-crushing, Earth-shattering, crying in the shower brand of bad.

It must be some sort of karmic retribution. For what, Buck’s not too sure, but he’s sure he did something to deserve this. But back to the knee. It’s not even that which wakes him up out of a restless and fitful night of sleep. It’s his phone buzzing incessantly under his pillow like a bad omen.

When he squints through one eye at his phone screen and sees Maddie’s contact, he hates that his first thought is that something terrible must have happened.

“Hey, Mads.” He clears his throat of sleep and rasp. “What’s wr–“

“So, Mom and Dad are flying into LA next week.”

Buck’s mouth snaps shut. He was right. Something terrible has happened.

“Wh–” Buck sits up too fast, blood rushing to his head and blanket pooling at his waist. “Uh, what?”

Buck can hear the frown on Maddie’s face, hesitance sitting heavy on her words. “Mom just called. They get here on Tuesday.”

“Where–what–“ Buck feels like he’s learning about the 5 W’s in elementary school all over again. Who, what, when, where, why? Which leads him to his next question. “Why?”

“They wanna be here for Jee’s birthday. And the party.”

Buck blinks harshly into the light of the room. It’s ass o’clock in the morning, but the sun is slowly creeping its way through the window, an unwanted promise of the unbearable heat soon to come.

“I don’t know, Buck,” Maddie continues before Buck can ask why again, and he’s so taken aback that he doesn’t even crack a smile at the sibling telepathy. “They said every year is like a milestone, or something. And they are! But–”

“Why are they…” pretending that they care, the ugly part of his brain thinks, but he holds it in. It’s not completely true. They care about Jee-yun, and Maddie, too, in their own mystical and fucked up way. Buck is the odd one out, always has been. It’s unthinkable for his mind to spiral into darkness and desecration so early in the day, but it’s too late to stop now. You can call Buck a lot of things, but you can’t call him uncommitted. “Why so abruptly?”

“I don’t know,” Maddie sighs again. It’s a sigh that sounds like the weight of the world lies on her shoulders alone, and Buck would double it and carry it on his own if it meant Maddie never had to again. “They’re trying to be–” Maddie cuts herself off, and Buck wishes he could hear the rest of her original thought. “They’re trying.”

“Right,” Buck says. If he were the version of himself that had just been struck by lightning, he would be happy to hear the news. Their parents had been pleasant—lovely, even—that year, trying to reconcile and toning it all down. Showering them in love, redecorating Buck’s loft. And Buck was fooled by the smoke screen. He was happy to be smothered. But once that faded, it was like the flip switched back. Maddie’s life was good enough for them, but Buck recovered, and they no longer had any use for him. He wasn’t hurt anymore.

He doesn’t want to fight, doesn’t want to ruin this for Maddie or Jee because they don’t deserve that. Maddie loves their parents in a way that Buck is afraid he never will, because he didn’t see what they were like before they were so overtaken by grief they couldn’t feel anything else. “Well, that’s–that’s good. It…it’ll be good for Jee to have her grandparents celebrate with her. Uh, formative memories and stuff.”

Maddie hums on the other line, like she has something else to say but isn’t sure how to say it yet. Buck braces himself.

“They wanna–have dinner,” Maddie says eventually. She rarely trips over her own words this much—that’s Buck’s job. She’s stumbling because of Buck. She’s made her peace with them, but he hasn’t, even though he was so sure he had. “Before the party. I offered them the guest room, but they’ve booked a hotel, so they won’t be around 24/7.”

Buck full-body cringes, and his leg aches with it. All he can think about is the family dinner from hell. Chimney was there, and Buck regressed back into the pathetic and neglected kid version of himself, asserting, no, screaming that his parents should have loved him anyway. God, Buck is so dramatic. Someone should’ve gotten that on tape.

And God, Chimney. He’s gonna lose his shit when he finds out their parents are coming back to town. Buck has half the mind to ask Maddie to record his reaction.

“Your place?” Buck asks.

“No, um, your place. Mom said she wants to see if it's changed since the last time she was in it.” Right, the last time, when he got struck by lightning and died and then got his heart restarted and then floated into a Grey’s Anatomy-esque coma. No big deal. And then his parents cared about him for a couple weeks, fussing over his every move and breath, because Buck has their care on a tight leash when he’s hurt.

“She wants to see if it’s changed since the last time she was in it, or she wants to judge my interior design choices?”

“Or lack thereof,” Maddie jokes. Buck smiles a little despite himself.

“It’s a loft. It’s supposed to be minimalistic.”

The real truth is, Buck doesn’t see much point in decorating a place that doesn’t even feel like a home. At least he has a couch!

“Sure,” Maddie placates. “Listen,” she says suddenly in her Big Sister Voice, and Buck stiffens. “I’m sorry to wake you up like this. Have a good day at the station, okay?”

She says have a good day at the station but it sounds more like please don’t become an active suicide risk because our parents are coming to visit.

Buck isn’t that reckless anymore. He nods curtly even though she can’t see him. “Sure thing.”

When Maddie finally hangs up minutes later and he’s left in the oppressive silence of the loft, all he can think to himself is, why didn’t they call me, too?

When Buck gets to the station, he’s still tense.

He kind of wanted to get drunk about it, but he had to go to work like a normal, well-adjusted adult. His leg is definitely going to fall right off the bone soon, and he wasn’t able to get back to sleep, so he feels a bit jittery. Wired like one touch can set him off.

He climbs up the stairs to the loft, bad leg aching for the effort even though he popped some painkillers before shift like candy, and Chimney comes into view almost immediately, pulling him in for a tender bro-hug.

“I heard the news. I’m so sorry.”

Buck huffs out of a shocked laugh. “Someone die?” Ravi’s curious voice asks half-seriously somewhere in the distance. It’s not funny, nothing about this situation is funny, but Buck snorts despite himself.

“Only our relationship,” Chimney says solemnly, pulling away and sending a wary look over to Buck. Buck rolls his lips into a thin line to stop from laughing again. He doesn’t like it when Chimney worries, which is a lot, but he makes really funny faces when he does. “Considering something insane happens every time the Buckley parents decide to show up to LA.”

“I think, at this point, our relationship can survive anything,” Buck jokes, gesturing to his eye.

Chimney doesn’t laugh, and Buck wishes he would. But he knows that Chimney still gets a little stiff when reminded of absolutely rocking Buck’s shit in the name of love, but it was virtually 80 years ago. If the roles were reversed, Buck probably would have been scared and angry enough to commit homicide. He doesn’t think about it much anymore. It’s kind of nice, though, that Chimney cares. At least someone does.

“Who’s showing up unannounced?” Another voice, Hen, emerging from the shadows like a vulture to a rotting carcass. Her eyebrows are practically touching the ceiling.

“My parents,” Buck says nonchalantly. Because it’s not a big deal. There’s no need to be chalant about it. Not at all. “For Jee’s birthday party.”

Hen’s face does that kind and sympathetic thing it does often, the look that she’s been giving Buck even more often than usual because his love life has imploded on itself for the millionth time. And that’s not even taking into account all the emotional anguish he’s been experiencing through osmosis from Eddie, whose life is currently the equivalent of a Saw trap. Buck would take out Jigsaw with his own bare hands if it came down to it.

“It’s gonna be fun,” Buck says as he makes a beeline for the refrigerator. He’s thankful there’s barely anyone up on the loft. He prays that the alarm will ring soon or that his leg actually falls off so they can all drop the subject because it is totally not a big deal. He loves them, but if he has to talk about his parents for more than a minute at a time he might throw himself over the balcony.

“Fun!” Chimney echoes. Buck sighs into his water bottle, chancing a glance over to the other side of the loft. His eyes automatically find Eddie at the table, and Eddie is already looking back at him.

He looks…better. He’s nowhere near his normal self, but he’s certainly not as dead on his feet as he was when Chris first left, if his lack of crater-like dark circles are anything to go by. He’s been getting brutally therapized.

But he’s still isolating. He and Buck haven’t had a conversation deeper than surface level since Chris left and Eddie retreated into himself—he hasn’t shut Buck out completely, but he feels like he’s on the outside looking in most of the time. Eddie still manages to be a person at work, the textbook definition of professional and competent, making his clever quips here and there and fighting the new coffee maker.

But Buck knows Eddie, and he can only imagine the kind of darkness that’s swirling around inside that thick head of his. But when he gets like this, it’s like he’s impossible to reach. He knows it’s not possible, but he wishes he could fix it. It’s not like he didn’t try, at first. He’s the guy who likes to fix things.

“You good?” Eddie mouths at him while Chimney and Hen start bickering over how much Chimney is freaking out over this even though he insists that he’s definitely not freaking out over this.

There hasn’t been any space for talking about feelings all summer save for a put heat on that after a minor injury or a you okay? after a tough call. There’d been a very tender shoulder squeeze after Tommy broke up with Buck, but besides that, it’s been all business. He misses Eddie even though they see each other every week, like a clingy dog.

Buck nods a moment too late because he was too busy staring, and Eddie must take it as sadness because his curious look turns into a frown.

Buck needs to work on acting normal. If he even so much as frowns a little, everyone will start asking him if he’s okay and be on standby for an intervention. And Buck doesn’t need an intervention, because he’s fine! He’s completely fine.

“I’m just healthily cautious,” Chimney is saying. “I’m not the crazy one here! You’re crazy!”

Everyone means well, but honestly, Buck doesn’t wanna hear about it. He’s tired and everything hurts but he’s fine. Maybe a little winded. He’ll go to the bathroom and do some breathing exercises or something.

“I think you’re more worried about this than I am," Buck laughs. “Kinda sweet.” He has no idea why he keeps laughing. It’s the nothing is actually funny but what else can you do besides laugh in a situation like this laugh. He’s slowly approaching hysteria. He’s gonna be huffing into a paper bag soon. But also, he’s fine.

Thankfully, for Buck’s benefit or otherwise, the conversation moves on from parents to birthday party planning, and he breathes a little easier. Chimney is chatty today, half talking to himself as he clambers around in the kitchen, and Buck thanks his lucky stars.

Buck steels himself and makes a swift exit, but not before Hen rubs a gentle hand down his arm and tells him he can come to her if he needs anything. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on them the whole time, the fine hairs at the back of his neck raising in apprehension. Buck smiles at Hen, and he hopes it doesn’t feel flat. She has her own laundry list of problems to deal with; they all do.

He makes his way to the bathrooms, but when he steps inside he realizes that he doesn’t feel like seeing himself in the mirror, so he about-faces and goes to the locker room instead. Blessedly empty for now, thank God. He allows himself one useless squeeze above the fire burning in his calf before he lets go.

Buck checks his phone and then stares a hole into the inside of his locker for a good two minutes, mind racing and saying nothing at the same time. Then he sits down on the bench, cringing as it jostles his leg. He stretches it out and stares at the scuff on the toe of his work boot.

“Hey,” a voice rings out behind him a couple minutes of relative silence. Eddie.

Buck is always, always happy to see Eddie, but this is a delicate situation. The worst time for a flare-up, too, and Buck imagines sawing his leg off with an LAFD-grade chainsaw in gory detail before he turns his head.

“Hey,” he says as casually as possible. Eddie approaches him slowly and with his arms crossed over his chest, like Buck is a wounded animal he’s afraid of scaring off. Defensive body language, some would say. Protection.

Eddie dips his head down at Buck’s stretched out leg. “It bothering you?”

Well, there’s no point in lying. “Uh, a little bit,” Buck says, scratching the back of his head in a nervous tick. “I gave it a painkiller and Voltaren cocktail before I came here, it’s okay.”

Eddie stares at him. Normally, Buck would do anything to catch Eddie’s attention, but this kind of attention is a little unnerving. His calf throbs in time with his heartbeat.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks after a silence that seems to last an entire lifetime but is probably no more than a couple seconds.

Buck huffs out a laugh. “I just said–”

“I’m not talking about your leg.”

Buck gulps. The whole ordeal of his parents frolicking into town must be a pretty big deal after all if it's getting Eddie to look at him like this now. But it’s fine!

Buck smiles amicably, and it doesn’t feel like a complete lie. “I’m fine.” Eddie levels him with a look, the same look he used to give Chris when he was younger and begging to play his video games for 5 more minutes on a school night. Oh God, Chris. Buck is going to projectile vomit everywhere.

“No, you’re not.”

Buck barks out a surprised laugh. “Okay?” It seems that Eddie sees the innermost, ugliest parts of him even when they’re in this weird limbo, dancing around each other like a couple in the middle of a nasty divorce. “I mean…I'm not fine. But I'm not…not fine?”

It sounds dumb to his own ears, but Eddie just nods at him like he understands exactly what he means. He looks like he’s expecting Buck to continue, so Buck throws him a bone.

“It’s just kinda weird, ‘cuz, um–the last time I saw my parents, well.” Buck drums his fingers against his knee, not even daring to utter Tommy’s name. “Yeah, and then we didn’t talk about it after that because it was all about Maddie and Chim, but now…well, I’m sure they’ll have something to say about it.”

Eddie nods again, something going tight around his eyes.

“But I’m gonna be alright,” Buck doesn’t let him get another word in. “Just need to get through this visit, and then they’ll fuck off until the next important milestone or near-death experience.”

He doesn’t reprimand Buck for joking about the lightning strike, and Buck is grateful for it. “Let’s hope you don’t go dying on us again anytime soon.”

“No promises.”

Eddie smiles at him, and it’s enough for now.

Here’s the thing: Buck knows that progress isn’t linear.

He knows this because that’s what a handful of therapists have told him, and it’s what people that don’t go to therapy but are masters in TherapySpeak tell others to justify their terrible decisions.

Buck knows this and yet. And yet. That sliver of his brain in charge of self-loathing and negative self talk sometimes tells him that he should just get over his fucked up childhood and move on. Like seriously, it’s getting old.

He always feels like he’s going backwards. He knows that he’s actively working on getting better and normal, that he’s allowed to feel however he wants about the whole thing. But his brain hates him and wants him to suffer for the rest of his natural-born life, so he’s going to ruminate himself sick over the whole situation. And the dinner, the dinner, the godforsaken dinner.

He hates the power his parents still have over him after all this time. Because why is he making a five star Michelin-approved meal for them when he should be bringing them scraps from the dumpster outside?

No, wait. That’s the mean, demonic sliver of his brain telling him that his parents are evil spawns from Hell. He should think nice, pleasant thoughts.

He should be excited to see his parents. The last time didn’t really count, because it was a whirlwind of stress and encephalitis and accidentally coming out as bisexual to God and everyone via soot beard. So, he should feel excited, but all he feels in its place is a swirling cloud of dread. Or maybe it’s indigestion.

By the time Maddie and Chim arrive at his loft, he’s two glasses of wine deep.

“Where’s Jee?” Buck asks as soon as they cross the threshold, frowning down at the spot she should definitely be standing in sadly. Kids are great buffers for awkward dinners. No one can be too angry when an adorable child is around. Usually.

But it’s not just that. He loves Jee and he would really love to see her at this moment because his mental state is being held together by rubber bands and thin pieces of string and also she’s growing up so fast and he wants to be there for every milestone in her life and why is he getting emotional all of a sudden?

“She’s with the Wilsons,” Maddie says, eyeing him carefully. Buck tries to make his face do something normal and unsuspicious. “Are you okay?”

Of course. “You didn’t wanna subject her to the shitshow that’s bound to happen like last time. I get it.” Smart. Very smart. Jee, precious and innocent Jee, doesn’t deserve to be in the midst of such rancid and sinister vibes. She deserves only nice things.

“Well, we didn’t say that.” Chimney pauses as he steps into the kitchen, gesturing to the island. “What the hell, are you feeding the entire city of Los Angeles?”

Buck wipes his hands on his apron and laughs nervously. “I may have gone…a little overboard.”

It’s just that he needed to keep his mind and his hands preoccupied, and he found this recipe on Instagram which led him to another recipe which led him to another recipe which led him to the Wikipedia page for meat-based dishes which led him to a deep dive on the origins of beef wellington, and who is Buck if not a person that loves to try new things?

Not to mention, there’s some weird, self-sabotaging part of him that still wants to impress his parents, the part that seeks out their approval even after all these years. Not that they give that much of a fuck about his cooking, but he did it anyway.

Honestly, Buck could make the most delicious thing anyone has ever tasted in the history of ever, and Margaret Buckley would send him a withering look and find something wrong with it.

And then there’s another knock at the door. Speak of the devil.

Buck wipes his hands on his apron again, wishing he had a third glass of wine in his system. So much for being a responsible adult.

Maddie looks at him like she wants to say something more, to which Buck’s brain responds, ABORT MISSION, SOLDIER! ABORT MISSION!

“Can you guys bring all the dishes to the table? Thanks.”

Buck makes the walk of shame over to his front door and steadies himself. He’s just opening the door for his parents, but he feels like he’s gonna open it only for there to be a flesh-eating monster on the other side. Maybe that would be a better alternative than the quiet wrath of his parents.

As soon as he opens the door, Margaret Buckley looks down at his very dirty apron in consternation.

“Hey guys,” Buck says. His stomach kind of hurts. His mother hugs him even though she hesitates for the slightest of seconds, and when Buck tries to go in for a father-son business handshake, his father hugs him instead, too. It’s more of a quick grab than an embrace, but it’s disarming all the same. Buck’s left eye starts to twitch.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Margaret says, conspicuously wiping at her blouse.

“I went all out,” Buck says as he leads them inside.

Margaret and Phillip seem much more excited to see Maddie and Chimney, if the actual smiles on their faces are anything to go by. That’s when Buck hears in his head, we live with the reminder every day. Staring us in the face.

Many medical professionals would have a field day with him.

Why can’t he just have a good time? When no one is looking at him, Buck tosses his dirty apron across the room.

“You have a new couch,” Margaret’s voice rings out through the television static happening in Buck’s head.

“Eddie helped me pick it out,” Buck says automatically. No one asked. No one cares. But he did. It’s been a long time coming, but Buck finally has a couch he actually likes.

He tossed out the couch Kameron gave birth on. And then he had another couch after that, one Natalia helped him pick out, but he threw it out on the street, too, days after their relationship—if it could even be called that—fizzled out. Eddie’s pick is nicer, anyway. Much like his relationships, it seems like Buck can’t keep a couch around to save his life either. But he thinks he’ll keep this one.

If Buck were allowed to talk about Eddie for the rest of the evening, maybe this would actually be bearable.

Margaret and Phillip exchange a strange, strange look that Buck can’t even begin to try to decode. But that’s not important. Dinner—he just has to make it through this dinner.

As soon as they all sit down, Maddie locks pinkies with him underneath the table. It settles the swirling inside of his stomach down the slightest bit.

Dinner starts off harmless enough; it’s talk with Maddie and Chimney about how Jee is doing and how married life is treating them. Buck is okay with being ignored in this context. Jabs and passive-aggressive comments are kept at a minimum, actually, and Buck thinks they all might make it out of here unscathed. He can just cruise along in the background without a scratch, stuffing his face with beef wellington. It tastes so good, Buck would marry himself if he could.

“That wedding,” Margaret is saying through a laugh, sipping at her wine glass.

“If it could even be called that,” Phillip adds good-naturedly, or is it actually good-naturedly? Buck has been trying not to take every single thing they say as a slight or criticism lately, but old habits die hard.

“It was the best day of my life,” Maddie says earnestly, turning to Chimney and grabbing his hand. “I had everything I needed.”

Chimney smiles at her like a lovesick idiot, and Buck’s heart constricts in his chest painfully, the way it does when he sees a really cute dog. “We’re very lucky people,” Chimney sighs dreamily.

“How lovely. It’s a bit unfortunate though, isn’t it?” Margaret continues. So much for romance. “No real venue, no food, no music...”

“Don’t knock the hospital fruit cups until you’ve tried them,” Chimney jokes, but it falls flat. Because why would Margaret and Phillip Buckley ever laugh at something meant to be funny?

“And the crowded little hospital room,” Margaret keeps going like Chimney hasn’t said anything. She huffs. “And Evan–”

Buck has never wanted so badly to not be included in his life. She says his name like an accusation, like there’s something inherently wrong with him to his very core. And isn’t that just what they made him believe for most of his life?

“–it was quite the spectacle. Putting on a show at your sister’s wedding like that.”

Right. They haven’t really talked about…that. The bisexual-flag-colored elephant in the room.

Phillip’s neutral expression turns into a small frown. Next to Buck, Maddie lets out a deep, deep breath. Chimney is wearing his Visibly Uncomfortable Chimney face, the one that makes him look all crumply like Kermit the Frog. Buck almost laughs.

“You and that…what was his name? Timmy?” It's not quite disgust lacing her words, but maybe something worse. Buck would prefer disgust over whatever this is, actually.

“His, uh, name was–” The man isn’t dead. Buck swallows. “His name is Tommy.”

Maddie sighs. “I–”

“Well, I mean, uh.” Buck doesn’t want Maddie to have to fight his battles for him, no matter their united front. “I didn't plan on–that happening, it just kinda…happened.”

Very eloquent, Buckley.

Margaret shakes her head, and Buck feels like he’s being scolded, 13 again instead of in his 30s. “It’s not that, I mean. Is he your…” She cuts herself off. If she even began to utter the word boyfriend, she might spontaneously combust. “Just what were you thinking?”

What was Buck thinking? Who knows? Horniness makes you do crazy things.

And Buck was wrong; he shouldn’t have had that wine. Maddie keeps sending him prying puppy-dog-eyed looks like she’s afraid of his every next move, and Buck’s fine motor skills are compromised just so that he can’t act as normal as he usually would. Not that he’s that great at acting normal when sober.

Buck wishes he was spending this precious day off doing literally anything else. Maybe he can fake a heart attack. Maybe it wouldn’t be that unbelievable considering all the health emergencies he’s had in the past. Maybe he can conjure up another pulmonary embolism on the spot.

“And we…” God, Buck wishes he could just keep his mouth shut. He should just say something like, Actually it was a prank. Surprise! I’m still straight. Or, Tommy was a paid actor. Gotcha! Or, I’m really sorry that I’m bisexual and stuff, but you didn’t really like me all that much when you thought I was straight, so does it really matter?

“We broke up. So…”

Maddie places a placating hand on his knee. Chimney looks one second away from completely tweaking out or maybe doing a backflip to ease some of the sudden tension in the room.

Phillip speaks up again. “You don’t plan on…seeing him again, do you?” It sounds more like that's a relief. To be honest, Buck was fine with the idea of still being friends with Tommy after the breakup, but they haven’t talked much since. It might be for the better, since Eddie had for some reason gone from being very amicable with the man to being alarmingly passive-aggressive to him at Chimney’s bachelor party. It was chilling.

And Buck feels weird about being chummy with someone Eddie doesn’t seem to like all that much anymore, even though he has no idea where the sudden animosity came from. He doesn’t want to begin unpacking the why behind this loyalty to Eddie, either.

“Well, um.” Buck fantasizes about nose-diving into a pool of concrete. “Not, uh. Not really?”

He has no idea how they ended up here. One moment they’re talking about preschool and the next they’re holding a magnifying glass above Buck’s love life. Or lack thereof now.

There’s a moment of silence, where his parents are looking at him slightly disdainfully, and Maddie’s hand on his knee squeezes and Chimney clears his throat much too loudly.

“This–this is really good, Buck,” Chimney tries.

“You know,” Margaret finally says, “I’ve made a lot of contacts in Los Angeles from all the time we’ve spent here.”

Buck gulps. He has no idea where this is going, but he’s 99.9% sure that wherever it is, he won’t like it.

“Met a lot of lovely people. And a lot of those people have daughters!” she exclaims like everyone should be excited with her. “Or they know other very nice people with daughters. Nieces, even.”

“Uh.” Buck blinks. Maddie sends him a wary sideways glance.

“You know, Evan, you’re in your thirties now.” They used to make an effort to call him Buck. Now, no matter how many times he tells them to call him it, they seem to conveniently forget in practice. It makes his skin crawl. “Haven’t you thought about settling down with a nice girl? Starting a–a family?”

She doesn’t necessarily put emphasis on girl, but Buck can hear it in the subtext. Maybe she thinks his bisexuality will magically evaporate into thin air once he finally finds the right woman to love him.

And. And. What would Margaret and Phillip Buckley know about family?

“Oh, and there’s the most beautiful girl from Hershey that recently moved out here. I know her mother, she’s lovely. Stephanie, I think it was?”

Oh, Stephanie, Buck thinks. If you’re somehow hearing this, flee Los Angeles while you still can and change your name. You don’t wanna be involved in this.

“Uh,” Buck says again. Because…uh. What? There’s no way his mother is trying to…set him up on blind dates? At his age? In this economy?

Buck tries to look over at his father for help, but then he remembers that that has never worked in his entire life. He seems perfectly content to let his wife meddle in Buck’s affairs. The filthy traitor.

“I mean, this is..this is a bit much,” Maddie chuckles kind of uneasily, her lax hand on Buck’s leg turning into a stress death-grip. At least it’s not his fucked up knee. “He just got out of a relationship, maybe some time to himself might be a better idea?”

She asks it like a question, but Buck can tell that beneath her tone, she means business. So much for fighting his own battles. “I agree,” Chimney vouches for him, very preoccupied with a piece of carrot on his plate.

“A couple little dates can’t hurt.” Margaret shakes her head, turning back to Buck with a hand on her chest. He’s unnerved by the sudden intensity in her eyes. “Evan. You were struck by lightning. You–your heart stopped.”

Maddie stiffens.

Margaret inhales sharply like she can’t bear to continue her sentence, like the thought of Buck being hurt pains her so much she can’t go on. Phillip places a hand on her shoulder and continues for her. “Tomorrow isn’t promised,” he says very carefully. “ I just…we don’t want you to spend your life alone, Evan. With regrets.”

There it is, the care he so desperately longed for all his life that only made itself known when he was hurt. It’s almost comical, how predictable his parents are. He should take a picture to make it last longer.

Buck doesn’t think about the strike much, even though he maybe should. He didn’t really process it. He died, and then he lived, and then he moved on. It’s not healthy, but it worked for him. Sort of.

But it’s an especially sore spot for Maddie. Loving two first responders is probably giving her multiple ulcers.

“Buck,” Maddie says calmly.

Buck blinks. “Huh?”

But Maddie isn’t looking at him; she’s looking at their parents. “You keep calling him Evan.”

Margaret sighs deeply, and Phillip at least has the manners to look a little guilty. “We–”

“He’s told you to call him Buck, I don’t know how many times, and yet–”

Alarm bells start going off in Buck’s head at the rising of her tone. “Maddie–”

“–you stopped trying to get it right.”

On the phone, when Maddie called to tell him that their parents were flying in, Buck and Maddie agreed to keep the peace. In Buck’s mind, it was more for Maddie, because she does love them a lot, even if their relationship will never be perfect. For Buck, it was more so that he just didn’t have the energy to even argue. To try to get them to listen, to see him beyond the failed experiment that couldn’t save their first son, their real son.

Buck hangs his head a bit. “It’s okay, Mads. Seriously.”

“It’s not,” she insists, and her voice wobbles. Buck looks up, and her eyes are watering. Maddie’s always been an easy crier, but it doesn’t ever get easier seeing it, especially not on his behalf.

Buck should do something. He should put an end to this, make everything as okay as it can be again, apologize for ever being born–

“I–I’ll go on the dates.”

…Or that.

Dying is weird.

Dying is weird, but it’s even weirder when you die and come back to life, like some less important version of Jesus Christ of Nazareth. Dying, like, your heart stops beating, you fully stop breathing and everyone around you loses it because you’ve just died in front of them and it’s all very sad.

Dying has its perks, though. For starters, it puts a lot of things into perspective. Buck sort of messed up with Natalia at first, but after that, he saw things clearly. Even though he had a deathly fear of being alone (he’s still working on it) and a chronic need to feel wanted, he needed to take a step back from relationships and figure out who he was and what he really wanted out of life.

But then he met Tommy.

So, a wrench was put in his plans, but after the breakup, he decided that he really needed to get serious and put himself first for once in his miserable life.

Thus, the vow of relationship celibacy was born.

Quite literally, he decided to quit dating cold turkey for the time being. No relationships, no meaningless hookups, no dating apps, no checking out a hot person in public for more than 5 seconds. You’d think the breakup traumatized him, but it was really quite the opposite. In fact, it was enlightening.

Tommy had sat him down one day like a sympathetic doctor about to deliver some bad news, telling Buck that it’d probably be the best for both of them if they stopped seeing each other.

It was something about misplacing feelings and this has been fun, Evan, but I’m clearly not the one for you. Buck was well and truly stunned into silence. It wasn’t like the other times he’s been broken up with because he wasn’t good enough or he was too clingy or the sex was great but not much else. No, this time, Buck was the one not giving his all, whether consciously or subconsciously.

Contrary to popular belief, Buck’s not completely oblivious. He knew what Tommy was talking about as soon as he said it, or rather who. He just never dared to look at it, because why would he? His every other thought is about Eddie. He accidentally brings up Eddie in almost every conversation he has no matter who he’s talking to. Whenever something happens in his life, whether good or bad, the first person Buck wants to tell about it is Eddie. And so on and so forth. Seriously, Buck could keep going forever.

Honestly, it was very kind of Tommy not to mention Eddie at all when he broke up with him. I think you have some feelings you haven’t dealt with was just a diplomatic way of saying you’re in love with your best friend, you stupid fucking idiot.

Maybe Tommy was a doctor delivering bad news after all. You’re in love with someone else, Mr. Buckley. And it’s terminal.

Honestly, Buck wasn't that sad about it, and him not being sad about it made him sad. His first Big Gay Relationship faded to dust unceremoniously, and all he could think about was—

Eddie.

Honestly, Buck kind of wants to kill himself.

It was a cruel twist of fate or perhaps literally the funniest thing ever that right after this realization–or rather, forceful digging up of very, very repressed feelings–Eddie’s entire life blew up right before his eyes. What use would telling your eternally suffering and decidedly straight best friend you realized you’ve had the hots for him since you met him be when it’s probably the last thing he needs to hear?

Buck’s some sort of cinematic cliché; losing someone he loves being his biggest fear. He would rather die than risk losing Eddie’s friendship.

But Buck is terrible at keeping secrets, much less from Eddie. He knows it’s going to come out soon, he just doesn’t know exactly when. Hell, he’ll surprise himself.

Somewhere in the distant past, a younger and less smart version of Buck would spiral after this. He’d probaby fuck a couple people about it just to feel some semblance of intimacy, but Buck doesn’t use sex as a way to self harm anymore, or whatever the therapist he’s currently ghosting suggested to him. He’s enlightened. He cried on Maddie’s couch about it instead.

It took a while to realize he has some form of worth because of the crippling sex addiction his parents kind of inadvertently gave him by not giving him enough love and attention as a child or something. And isn’t that a hell of a thing for your parents to accidentally give you? All this to say, Buck didn’t plan on jumping into any new relationship anytime soon because he needed to figure himself out. And also, he’s in love with his best friend anyway, but that’s a minor detail.

He’s really been doing the men and women of Los Angeles a big favor. But then his mom texts him.

It’s quite literally a jumpscare, startling his nose out of the book it was buried in. Their chat history is sparse, the last time she texted him being when he died. So.

His nosy ass coworkers perk up like sharks smelling blood as he stares at his phone in astonishment. Before anyone can open their mouth, Buck dog-ears his book and gets up to shuffle down the loft stairs.

In her text is some poor girl’s name, an address and a day and time. It’s very haughty of her, actually. Like, can he at least get an insincere hi, how are you before she tries to single-handedly ruin his life for the second time?

Unfortunately, it’s during his next 48 hours off, so he can’t use work as an excuse to put this off as long as humanly possible. He did say that he would go on the dates. Buck knows that he’s an adult with autonomy or whatever, but he hates going back on his word, even when it comes to his parents. And he knows that even if he didn’t agree, they’d keep slighting him about his single life and terrible decisions and dying cold and alone until the Earth stopped turning.

Buck feels like there's been an anvil in the pit of his stomach ever since his parents arrived, like he won’t be able to breathe until they’re gone. Maybe he should fake his death.

“Everything okay?” Hen asks him when he reascends the stairs, plopping back down on his seat at the table next to Eddie.

Buck puts his head in his hands. “My mother is pimping me out to the women of Los Angeles.”

Chimney snort-coughs whatever’s in the mug he’s been sipping from.

“Come again?” Hen asks like she’s not sure if she should laugh or not.

Buck looks up at her and sighs heavily. “She’s meddling. She decided to start setting me up on–on blind dates, can you believe it? I mean, haven’t I done enough?”

“Blind dates are a rite of passage,” Chimney asserts once he catches his breath. “They’re gonna be terrible, and they lead to nothing. But this is like the only thing you haven’t done when it comes to relationship stuff.” Chimney points a finger at him. “Once this is over, you’re definitely gonna find the love of your life. This is your last trial before true happiness.”

The love of his life. Right…

“You agreed to this?” Eddie asks kind of incredulously. Buck chances a sideways glance at him, and Eddie has on his very judgy face, the one that makes him look like he’s just tasted something sour.

“Suffering through this will still be better than whatever would’ve happened if I said no,” Buck huffs.

Maybe he should just become a monk.

“Oh to be a fly on the wall when all this goes down,” Chimney sighs wistfully. Eddie still looks very disgusted. Hen is watching this all happen with a very amused expression on her face. But also slightly concerned? Buck is always in awe at how many different faces this woman can make.

Buck rests his head on his palm. “Just pray for me.”

Chimney snorts. “You don’t even believe in God.”

Well, maybe he should start. It’s gonna take a miracle to get through this.

Buck is trying.

Except…he’s really not.

He has no idea why his mother is so suddenly invested in his love life, but he can take a wild guess.

The bisexual-flag-colored elephant in the room is actually more the size of an Antarctic blue whale. His parents aren’t even simply on the man kissing another man is wrong because the bible said so wave of bigotry. He knows that it’s more so the what will other people think of us variety. But there’s not really an ‘us.’ The Buckleys have never been a real family, and Buck doesn’t live in Hershey anymore.

4 dates for 2 days. Buck should be getting paid an hourly rate for his labor. He has no idea why he's doing this. Maybe it’s his own fucked up version of filial piety. He could really use Bobby’s sage and unwarranted advice right now, but of course he had to go and die on everyone at the most inopportune time. Buck can’t be held accountable for any bad decisions he makes while Bobby is recovering and Gerrard is terrorizing the entirety of the 118 like a comic book supervillain.

“You seem a little distracted,” the girl across from him says. What was her name again? Something with an S. Sarah…Sandy? Sam?

Buck tries his best to snap out of his doom-spiral and puts on his award-winning Colgate smile. “Sorry, I’m just a bit tired. Busy week at work y’know?”

That seems to pique her interest very much, if the way she leans in across the table is anything to go by. Her long red hair cascades over her shoulder, and for one haunting and horrifying moment, Buck is reminded very much of Taylor. “Of course! Your mother told me you were a firefighter. What’s that like, really?”

It’s the reason I’m breathing. It’s the bane of my existence. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. My mom actually doesn’t like the fact that I’m a firefighter that much–in fact, she’s never liked me all that much. What’s your childhood trauma?

“It’s cool,” Buck says lamely.

Girl Whose Name Starts With An S bats her eyelashes at him. “I think it’s super sexy.”

Oh, brother. Here we go.

A woman and breathing seems to be the general criteria here.

That used to be Buck’s criteria too, just someone alive that could give him a false sense of intimacy for however long they could put up with him before they got tired. But Buck has changed. He’s 4.0 now. Or was it 5.0?

Buck put on his nice jeans for this one, but truthfully, all he wants is to go back home, get back in his sweatpants and eat an entire pint of ice cream while watching Animal Planet.

As soon as Girl #2, Tara, sits down, she says without preamble, “I’m a lesbian.”

Buck blinks. And then blinks again. “Uh. What?”

“I’m here for appearances. My parents are ready for me to finally settle down with a nice man,” she continues without even looking at him, rummaging around the insides of a very nice designer bag. “But they don’t know that I’ve been kissing girls since I gained sentience.”

“Huh,” Buck says intelligently.

She finally looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

Buck panics. “No, uh, no, I was just–you caught me off guard, is all! It's–it’s great that you're a lesbian! I'm an ally—wait.”

Buck really messes up on this one.

It actually starts off very pleasantly. Buck is just trying to be nice and get this over with so he can tell his mother they ‘just weren’t a good match’ again, but he unfortunately has a naturally flirty personality, or so he’s often been told. He can’t even count on both hands how many times he was just being nice to someone, and they thought he wanted to fuck them. Many such cases.

This girl, Liv, some daughter of a someone or another, is very nice and normal and asking Buck questions about his life like she’s actually interested in what he has to say. She asks him about his family, and doesn’t falter when he waffles on and on about Maddie instead of his parents. She asks him about his interests, and lets him talk her ear off about deep-sea creatures. She’s appropriately (thankfully) interested in his work, and Buck is telling her about the absolute rush of adrenaline he gets every time he gets to use a chainsaw, even after all these years. And then in the middle of his tirade, he gets a text.

“Sorry,” Buck says sheepishly. “Forgot to turn off my ringer.”

Liv waves him off good-naturedly. “That’s okay, answer it.”

When Buck unlocks his phone in a fumbling haste, the last person he expects to see a new text from is Eddie.

He feels his face heat up for some reason inconceivable to him, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Like Eddie is there looming over his shoulder, wagging his finger at him and his failed romantic escapades.

You busy? is all it reads, but Buck feels like a stray dog being tossed a bone after weeks of starvation. He’s so pitiful when it comes to Eddie, it’s almost laughable.

If it were a couple months ago, Eddie would already know that Buck’s busy, because Buck tells (told?) him pretty much everything. He didn’t feel the need to whine to Eddie about his blind date conundrum like he probably would have otherwise, given the chasm-wide amount of space currently between them. Buck’s trying to give him space where he’d normally push or something, because he’s mature and he understands that trying to force Eddie out of whatever metaphorical prison he’s got himself in might do more harm than good. Eddie will come to him on his own time, he always does.

Maybe that’s what he’s doing now?

He must be making some sort of face, because Liv’s voice turns concerned. “Is everything alright?”

Right. Buck is with a very nice girl on a very nice date despite the tragic circumstances. They haven't even been sitting in this lunch spot for 40 minutes.

A person with bonafide abandonment issues can’t abandon someone on a date just because his best friend asked if he was busy. It doesn’t matter if he’d much rather be doing God knows what with Eddie than talk to this very nice girl who has not done anything wrong. He’s an adult. And considerate of other people’s feelings.

Eddie seemed very put off by the prospect of Buck going on these dates, and given Buck’s track record, he can’t blame him. So he spares him the gritty details and shoots him a quick, On a date, talk later? Unless it’s serious, in which case, call me, and focuses his attention back on the very gorgeous woman in front of him.

He secretly hopes his phone rings.

“All good,” Buck smiles, and he hopes it sounds convincing enough. “Just my coworker.”

Buck feels wrong saying that. Eddie is never ‘just.’

“Oh?” Liv takes a dainty sip from her drink, brushing long brown hair behind her ear. “Was it that guy you mentioned earlier? Eddie?”

“Yeah, Eddie.” And Buck smiles just from saying his name.

“You two seem really close. From what you were telling me about work, I mean.”

Buck’s heart squeezes in his chest as just how much he misses Eddie slaps him right in the face. “Oh, yeah, me and Eddie go back, y’know. He’s my partner. We actually didn’t like each other at fir–well, actually it was just me being a dickhead. But then we pulled a grenade out of a guy’s leg and realized how well we worked together. And ever since, we’ve had each other’s backs. I trust him with my life, seriously. And everything else, too. He’s great. Best person I know.”

Liv’s smile falters the tiniest bit. “Oh, that’s–that sounds really nice.”

“He introduced me to the other best person I know actually,” Buck continues. “His son, Chris. God, I love that kid. He-he’s away for the summer, but he really means a lot to me. He and Eddie really gave me a—a purpose, y’know? Outside of firefighting. I’m a better person because of them. They really make me better.”

Liv is silent for a stilted couple of seconds. Buck blushes and takes a sip of drink to prevent himself from talking more.

“I’m confused…” she says very, very slowly. “Why did your mom set us up if you already have a boyfriend?”

Buck honest to God chokes. His overpriced drink goes down the wrong pipe, and he can’t breathe for a split second of absolute panic. He bangs a fist against his chest and wheezes. He prays that he won’t need another emergency tracheotomy in the middle of a restaurant—his pride won’t be able to take it.

He finally catches his breath on a sharp inhale. “I’m–I’m sorry?”

Buck and Eddie have been mistaken for everything under the sun. Boyfriends, husbands, divorcees. But this situation particularly is just embarrassing.

Liv looks at him strangely. “Does she…not know?” Then horror materializes on her face. “Are you in the closet?” Her grimace turns sympathetic.

Buck is reminded of the time Eddie somehow materialized out of thin air on his first date with Tommy, and the words, “You can never have enough closet space. Ain’t that the truth. Right, Evan?” were seared into his brain forever. But, like. Somehow worse.

“Nononono,” Buck is vehemently denying, waving his hands in front of his face. “No, no. No! It-it’s not like that!”

“Um,” Liv says, and she seems genuinely perturbed. “What is it like, then?”

“Eddie’s just...” Buck swallows. Eddie’s just. Eddie is never ‘just.’ He’s so not ‘just’ that even this virtual stranger he met not even an hour ago can tell. How humiliating is that?

For some reason, he’s physically incapable of finishing his sentence. It’s like his throat completely closes up, preventing words from being spoken. Maybe he needs that tracheotomy after all.

Liv nods very sagely like she’s twice her age, reaching out to take Buck’s hand in his. Her skin is very soft, so Buck focuses on that instead of looking her in the face. “It’s okay. It must be hard not being able to be your true self. I understand, really. I mean, I can’t ever completely understand, but I’m a serious ally.”

Buck needs to die.

“Why the long face, Buckley?”

Ever since his parents decided to frolic back into town and ruin his life (again), it seems that Buck has been starting every shift completely dejected.

Buck is a terrible actor on a good day, but it’s getting harder and harder to act like he’s not constantly talking himself off the proverbial ledge by the day.

Eddie didn’t answer his text from the day before. He gave it a mere thumbs up reaction, which could mean nothing, and probably means nothing, but Buck’s brain isn’t wired to be calm and take things at face value. It’s so much more fun to overthink until you get a migraine.

They did not talk later. Being pimped out is one thing, but being deprived of Eddie is another. Buck really needs to get a new hobby or something.

He doesn’t want to face anyone. He doesn't want to go on any more dates. He wants Jee-yun’s birthday to come faster so that he can go back to pretending his parents don’t exist. He was seriously fine before this. Seriously.

But, right. Chimney is cornering him in the locker room in that unassuming Chimney way that he does, smacking on his gum.

Buck shoves his hoodie into his locker. “This is just what my face looks like.”

“Funny.” Chimney leans against the locker closest to him and crosses his arms. Buck recognizes this as his gossip stance. “How’d the dates go?”

An involuntary groan leaves Buck’s mouth at the word ‘date.' He never wants to go on a date ever again. He doesn’t want to date, he doesn’t want to have sex, he doesn’t want to be looked at. “I’m seriously fighting for my life.”

“That bad?” Chimney seems very delighted by this news, when he should be showing some sympathy, the fucking traitor.

“The worst. I mean, the girls were all nice, I guess, but we both know I’m not making wedding plans anytime soon. I’m never gonna see them again.” Buck conveniently leaves out the part where one of his dates figured out he was in love with Eddie after 40 minutes of knowing him.

“Spoken like a true bachelor.”

Everyone knows that Buck has always wanted a partner and a family of his own more than anything, but, well. Back to the relationship celibacy and figuring out who he is and what he really wants out of life thing. It’s looking bleak.

“This is all a pretense for my mom anyway. Just show her that I’m ‘trying.’ Crisis will be averted soon.”

Chimney’s resting mischievous face turns into something else. It looks scarily close to pity, something Buck has been on the receiving end of more times than he can count. Buck knows he doesn’t mean it like that, but it still stings.

“So,” Chimney starts, and Buck braces himself. “We never really talked about dinner.”

Buck sighs. “Chim-”

“I still don’t really know how to deal with these things,” Chimney laughs with no humor. “The way Maddie feels about your parents is one thing, but you…” He shakes his head like he’s shaking the thought away and starts over. “I just don’t want you to ever think I’m not on your side.”

That prickly feeling that creeps up your throat when you’re about to cry makes an appearance, but Buck shoves it down. What’s up with him lately, seriously? It’s like he has the emotional regulation skills of a 2 year old. “I know.”

“The way they talk to you, it’s–”

“It’s fine–”

“–not okay,” Chimney continues. “I wish there was something I could do. I’m sorry.”

Buck turns back to the inside of his locker and laughs into it. “You didn’t do anything.”

“I know I didn’t do anything, I'm just apologizing because I feel bad. That’s what people do. Can you humor me for 2 seconds?”

Buck smiles. “No.”

Chimney sends him a look so unimpressed it’s honestly admirable.

“Seriously,” Buck laughs again. “We’re good. We're good. There’s literally nothing you could have done, they’re ruthless. I’m just glad you were there. For Maddie especially. I don't want you getting caught in the middle of our whole family thing anyway. Just focus on Maddie, okay? That’s all that matters.”

That makes Chimney look sort of sad. “We care about you, too, Buck. You should care about yourself.”

“I do, Buck says, but it’s sort of complicated. He treats himself less like a pampered lapdog and more like a mutt you keep outdoors, tossing it scraps so it can live, but never letting it inside. Eddie gave him a lifeline, a reason to not treat himself as expendable like he always had, but it still lingers, sometimes. He can admit that to himself.

Chimney watches him for a second and then kicks off the wall. “You get Jee a birthday present yet?”

Buck is eternally grateful for the out. “You mean presents, plural?”

The shift hasn’t been a bad one, but it hasn’t been a great one, either. Five hours in, and Buck is already exhausted from the sheer multitude of calls they’ve been on.

He and Eddie work together as a team fine as they always have, and they touch knees in the back of the engine, but Buck can’t shake the lingering feeling of wrong, wrong, wrong.

Eddie still hasn’t told Buck what he wanted to talk about. In fact, it’s like the text never existed in the first place. What if Eddie was gonna tell Buck something important and he fumbled his chance? What if he was gonna let Buck back in?

After a minor collision call, Buck shuffles upstairs for food. He has quite literally been losing his mind without Bobby’s cooking, and he barely has the motivation to cook for everyone like he used to. Buck not cooking—that’s how he knows he’s losing it.

And he’s still thinking about what Liv said to him. Why did your mom set us up if you already have a boyfriend? Like, Jesus Christ.

Buck grabs an apple and hunches over his book about the political history of the space age at the edge of the dining table.

And after about 10 minutes of blessed alone time, he hears someone say, “Why the long face?”

Again. Okay. Hen slides into the seat in front of him. She’s just teasing, but 5 more minutes in Buck’s presence will tell her that he’s one second away from defenestrating himself out of the nearest firehouse window.

“Just really into this book,” Buck says through a bite of disgusting, mealy apple. Has food always tasted this terrible? Or will he just not be able to feel happiness again until his parents leave LA?

“How’d your dates go? Any sparks fly?”

“Sparks is…definitely one way to put it.”

“What’s that about sparks flying?”

It’s Chimney’s turn to materialize out of thin air like everyone in this goddamn firehouse. They're like a mob of meerkats that move together. Then Ravi. Then Eddie, who Buck pointedly does not look at. He’s scared that if his eyes even fall on him for one moment, Liv is going to appear from around the corner and say, “Hey, Eddie! Buck wouldn’t stop blabbering about you like a fucking idiot on our date! Super embarrassing, right?”

“Lack thereof,” Hen corrects him.

Chimney sends Buck a look that he doesn’t even want to try to decipher. He sits down next to Hen, and then Eddie sits down next to Chimney which makes Buck look back down at his very interesting book for a second. Hen quirks a curious brow. Buck feels Eddie staring daggers at him.

“My aunties used to try to set me up on blind dates,” Ravi says as he sits down next to Buck, completely oblivious to…whatever the hell is going on. “It was just like talking to people on Tinder but…somehow worse.”

If that isn’t the truth. Buck has repressed his dating app days to the deepest and darkest recesses of his mind. “If you ever say the word ‘Tinder’ around me again, I might vomit on you.”

“Isn’t Hinge all the rage these days?” Chimney asks, and God, he really does sound like a dad now. Buck should gift him a lawnmower and a new grill soon.

Ravi full-body shivers.

“Don’t ever say that to me,” Buck says seriously.

“Are you good, though?” Eddie speaks up, and Buck finally chances a glance at him. He can’t be so far gone he can’t even look at the man anymore. So what if he’s the love of Buck’s life? That’s middle school stuff.

Hen and Chimney nod in scary evil twin unison like they’re echoing the question. It’s crazy having people actually care about you. And a bit nauseating. Like, seriously, Buck doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Actually some of the worst dates I’ve been on,” Buck says after taking another bite of his apple from hell. “And that’s saying something, given my track record.” A tracheotomy. Closet jokes. His neighbor that did not want to share cheesecake with him.

“Were they really that bad?” Ravi asks.

Buck sighs. “One of them stabbed me with a fork.”

“Wait, what?”

“I thought it’d be easy, but my parents are staying way longer than I thought. Surely my mom’ll run out of girls eventually, right?”

Chimney shakes his head solemnly. “From what I know about Margaret Buckley, no.”

“I don’t know if I can take this for 2 more weeks,” Buck complains. He was content to not bother anyone about his woes, but he has a bad case of can’t-shut-the-fuck-up-itis. And it’s terminal. “Soon she’ll be stopping random women on the street and giving them my number.”

“Maybe you should just get a fake girlfriend,” Ravi muses.

Buck’s entire world stops. The Earth stops turning. All oceans come to a standstill. Every bird in the sky stops flying.

“Ravi,” Buck says. “What did you just say to me?”

“Like a girlfriend for hire,” Ravi says, like it’s funny, like he’s joking, but Buck isn’t laughing. “To get your mom off your back. You wouldn’t have to go on any more dates. And then when your parents leave, you never have to see each other again. Imagine.”

Buck sets his apple down on the table and closes his book.

Why?

Why didn’t he think of that? He must have been doing too much catastrophizing. Here lies the answer to all of his problems. It’s so obvious.

He’s already sort of done this, like that one time he made Taylor his fake double date with Albert and Veronica that ended up biting him in the ass. But this could be different.

“Ravi,” Eddie says very sternly, like a hardass teacher. “Do not encourage him.”

“I can't believe I never thought of that,” Buck breathes incredulously.

Hen blinks rapidly at him like a cartoon character. “No, Buck.”

Chimney leans forward. “Buck, no.”

Buck, yes.

“Ravi,” Buck turns to the man in question, the platonic love of his life, the apple of his eye, the prince of his heart. “I could kiss you right now.”

Ravi looks slightly scared by everyone else's reactions, but still beams up at Buck while everyone sounds off about why it’s an absolutely horrible idea, and haven’t you learned anything, Buck?

Well, Buck hasn’t made a bad decision in a couple of days. He's allowed this one, right?

But where does he find a fake girlfriend?

“It’s like he doesn’t even hear us,” Chimney says drily.

Buck gathers his things and stands up, leaning down to take Ravi’s face in his hands and smack a disgustingly wet kiss on his forehead.

“I need to make some calls.”

Buck knows better than to call Taylor.

He breezes right past that thought. He speedruns through his list of exes, and realizes that he didn’t really end on good terms with any of them. Maybe he really is the problem.

Then there’s the even longer list of old hookups and fuckbuddies and what have you. Buck doesn’t have any desire to return to that time in his life, but can beggars really be choosers?

It’s his parents fault, he thinks, and then immediately regrets it. It’s also very much his own fault. And…he forgave them. He really shouldn’t be thinking about them like this, right? When he was still seeing her, Dr. Copeland would probably say something like, “You have trauma from your childhood, Buck. Thinking negative thoughts about your parents isn’t a negative reflection on you. It’s a common occurrence in situations of neglectful abuse like this.” And Buck knows that logically, he swears he does, even if he’s still terrified to call what his parents did to him abuse, but he still hasn't completely internalized it. He’s been told before that he’s too forgiving, too willing to run back to people that have hurt him. But they’re his parents.

He wonders what it’d be like to have a normal relationship with his parents. It’s something he thinks about more often than he’d like to admit to himself. If instead of constant criticism, it had been patience and understanding. If instead of self harm for attention, it hadn’t even needed to get to that point for his parents to look at him. If instead of love me anyway, it was thank you for loving me.

Is it a lot to ask?

Buck has no time to answer his own question or bother any of his exes because the alarm decides to go off at that moment.

It’s not the absolute worst call Buck’s ever been on—Buck can probably name all of the absolute worsts and all of the names of the people involved and lost—but it’s bad. They say that saving some is better than saving none, and Buck knows that, logically speaking. He knows a lot of things logically speaking, but in his heart it never feels right.

They lose just one. She’s a kid. Severe smoke inhalation from a completely preventable electrical fire in an old apartment building, third degree burns across her face, neck, arms and torso. Buck tries his damnedest to bring her back, but her heart doesn’t start beating again. He feels the moment it stops beating, feels the life leaving her body as he pumps her chest over and over and over again.

Buck thinks about when his heart stopped and he found out Eddie was the one who restarted it, his ribs cracking under the pressure of his fingers.

Some people might think it might get easier after years on the job, but every loss doesn’t make the next inevitable one any easier. The girl had parents, parents who loved her and were screaming for her when she coded on the gurney. And now they’re going to have to figure out how to live without her, because Buck couldn’t—he couldn’t.

After the engine is pulled into the bay and everyone clambers out on heavy feet, Chimney gives him a pat on the shoulders on his way to the showers, and Buck goes to his locker so that he can stare at the photograph of him and Maddie hanging up inside it until he feels a little more normal again.

He stands there with his head craned, listening to people filter in and out in an ebb and flow. Then Eddie stomps into the locker room in a whirlwind, and Buck’s head snaps up from where it was buried inside his locker.

Buck is expecting him to say something, but he remains stoically silent as he wrenches his locker open and rummages around inside of it like a rabid animal.

Buck knows that bad calls affect him just as much, even if he doesn’t show it as often as everyone else. Eddie is a master of compartmentalization, dying to stay under control. Buck has no such qualms.

He wants to ask Eddie if he's okay or something acceptable and not too prying, but instead what comes out of his mouth is, “Have you been mad at me?”

Jesus. Way to make everything about yourself, Buckley.

He’s been trying to do that less recently, but old habits die hard. Who knew that self-loathing could make you such a narcissist?

Eddie turns to him with a confused downturn to his lips, hair in his eyes from a quick shower. Buck can still taste ash behind his own gums. “I’m not mad at you,” he says plainly, without mincing words.

Buck nods curtly, turning back to his locker. Maybe if he stares long enough, it’ll take pity on him and swallow him whole.

It feels like the wrong time to talk about it. The proverbial elephant in the room suffocating the both of them whenever they’re together. Every time these days feels like the wrong time to talk about it, and Buck isn’t sure if there will ever be a right time. But now definitely isn’t it, not after someone has just died and Buck kind of can’t breathe correctly. Buck tries to think about that compartmentalization. He desperately wants to ask Eddie how therapy has been going, if each day has been getting easier now that Chris has been calling him, if he can breathe a little more, if he’s been processing things, but these are all deeply personal and prying and Buck is trying his absolute best to be…not that. Not now.

Buck can’t tell if Eddie is searching for something or just destroying the inside of his locker for the hell of it, and he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t expect Eddie to break the silence.

“You're not actually gonna do it, are you?”

Buck flinches at his accusatory tone. “Do what?”

He sees Eddie’s grimace in his peripheral vision, but he still doesn’t turn to look at Buck. “What Ravi said.”

It takes an extra second for Buck’s scrambled egg brain to recall whatever it is Ravi must have said to have offended him so much. He blinks. “The girlfriend thing?”

Eddie nods pithily at his locker, no longer tearing through it but gripping the door instead.

Buck has no idea why he feels the need to defend himself, but he feels it. “So what if I am?”

That gets Eddie to finally look at him, and despite himself, Buck thinks finally, finally. “Do you think you’re in a state to handle that?”

Buck hates when people do that, when they say do you think instead of just saying I think, like they can be convinced otherwise. Eddie thinks that Buck is going to go off the deep end, because that’s what Buck does, right? That’s who he is, and maybe that’s who he’ll always be.

The unreasonable part of Buck hears, you’re going to get your heart broken all over again, even if it’s fake, because you just can’t help yourself. You give too much of yourself to people even when they don’t care about you, and they all take a piece of you when you’re gone. Soon, none of you will be left.

And a part of Buck, the dark, ugly, bitter part, wonders how Eddie is in any position to tell him about the state he’s in.

Buck huffs. He doesn’t like fighting with Eddie. He doesn’t like fighting with anyone, but with Eddie, it’s different. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it leaves a lasting impression. They can get nastier, because they know exactly where to push, all the soft and tender spots. “You don't talk to me for weeks and weeks, and now all of a sudden you're here to criticize my decisions?”

Eddie looks like he’s going to get mad, but then pauses and frowns. “I talk to you.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles its way out of Buck’s throat. “Doesn't really feel like it.” Buck means to sound steady, but it just comes out pathetic. That’s all he is when it comes to Eddie. Let me back in, he wants to beg. I’ll be so good to you. Aren’t I always good to you?

Eddie sighs, and it sounds weary, knackered. “Buck–”

Buck closes his locker with more force than he means to, the happy and photographed versions of him and Maddie disappearing from his sight.

“I’m not fighting with you,” Buck says, looking Eddie right in the eye so he knows. “I’m not–we’re not fighting, right? Because I can’t–”

Buck is thankful he has the mind to cut himself off before he finishes his sentence. Because he can’t what?

I can’t handle things between us not being okay. I can’t handle losing you, too. Why does it feel like I’m losing you? It’s like the harder he holds on, the more everything leaves him. That’s Buck, destined to be left behind.

Something must be wrong, because Eddie reaches out to touch Buck on the shoulder, immediately grounding him. Buck has no idea when he started breathing heavier, but he can suddenly feel his heart squeezing in his chest, ready to cave in.

“Not here,” Buck manages to say. Too many people around. “It’s fine.”

Eddie closes his locker with his free hand. He ignores Buck and quite literally drags him away and out as stragglers stroll in. And Buck follows blindly, all the way to the supply closet in the back of the firehouse.

Eddie finally lets go of him to shut the door behind him and flick the light on, Buck blinking rapidly to adjust.

Now they’re alone in a supply closet, but it’s not as sexy as Buck has imagined before. Small victories?

Eddie watches Buck for a couple careful seconds, and Buck feels like he's being carved open with a scalpel from his gaze alone.

“We’re okay, you know that?” It’s a question, technically, but Eddie says it like a demand. “We’re not gonna fight.”

Buck feels useless; he should be the one comforting Eddie right now, not the other way around. “I’m not gonna have a panic attack,” Buck says, even though he feels like he might have a panic attack. The jury is still out. Who knows what Buck’s brain will choose today? “Jesus Christ, what's wrong with me.”

He didn't mean to say the last bit out loud, but Eddie easily answers him, “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Plenty of people have tried to tell him that. When he spirals, when he forgets that he’s a person just like everyone else. But it feels more plausible when it comes from Eddie. Like he could almost believe him.

Buck looks down for a second, needs to change the subject because it feels too raw. “I’m just trying to get my parents off my back.”

Right, back to the original plot of the story. Before Buck almost had a heart attack in the middle of the firehouse. Eddie seemed like he could not fathom the half-baked idea of a fake relationship, let alone the blind dates.

Eddie frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. “You don’t have to do anything your parents say.”

“Sure,” Buck says. “I-I know.” And he does know. Logically speaking. Buck is so tired of logical. “But I didn’t do it just for them, I mean, not really. And this—I’m just trying to keep the peace.”

The back of his knee meets a mop bucket. Buck kicks it to the side and sinks to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce. Definitely not sanitary, but it’s the least of his concerns right now.

“Do you think that’s really possible?” Eddie eyes the spot on the floor next to Buck, cramped up against the shelf, and shrugs before sitting down next to him. Their shoulders brush for the minutest of seconds, and it makes Buck feel like he’s on fire. “Peace, I mean.”

Buck shrugs, and it makes their shoulders brush again. He can feel the warmth emanating off of Eddie like a space heater. Buck feels like a Victorian man deprived of physical touch. “With them? Who knows.”

Eddie hums, and Buck continues, because something about being around Eddie has him wanting to spill all of his deepest darkest secrets like it always has. “I guess, also, deep down…a part of me still wants their approval. Even temporary approval.” Buck stares at the broom propped up on the wall in front of them. “But I guess that’s normal with your parents. But I feel bad for even wanting it. You know when you feel bad just for wanting something? It’s like…Catholic guilt, but I was never Catholic…”

Eddie snorts loudly beside him, and Buck wonders when the last time he truly laughed was. Buck feels the edge of his lip curl up.

“That is normal,” Eddie chews his words like he’s kind of trying not to laugh again. “But you don’t need it. You know you don’t need it.”

“Yeah. But I think I’m gonna spend the rest of my life wanting it anyway.”

They sit with this for a second. Buck can hear the tick-tocking of the watch on his wrist, his slowly calming heartbeat in his ears.

“Not if you cut them off,” Eddie says after a while. Casually, like this is a casual thing to say. For someone like Buck to do.

Buck reckons that cutting them off wouldn’t feel much different than how their relationship does now. He gets minimal calls or texts, if any. He has no idea what their days have been like lately, because they don’t tell him and he doesn’t ask. Whenever they do happen to be in the same room, it’s still like he’s not there. Unless Buck decided to die a second time, in which case they would see him as more than a failed experiment for however long it took him to recover.

“Well,” Buck sighs. “If they keep showing up unannounced like this, that'll never happen," he half-jokes. And, more seriously: “I can't just cut them off. They're…they’re my parents.

“Family is what we choose,” Eddie says pointedly. Plainly. “You know that.”

Boy, does Buck know that.

Sometimes he feels foolish for chasing after a love he knows deep down he’ll never receive when he has people that love him unconditionally, right in front of him. People that show him everyday that he’s worthy of being looked at for more than 5 minutes at a time. Worthy of being known.

And Eddie gave him–Eddie gave him everything. His trust, his time, his patience and his home, his son who isn’t even here at the moment but destined to return soon because he’ll always find his way back. Eddie gave him a lifeline. A purpose, and a reason.

“Would it be so bad anyway?” Buck muses, kind of to himself. “Fake girlfriend, no more dates. Less pestering from my mom, I’d hope.”

“Yeah, Buck. It would be that bad.”

Yeah, Eddie is probably right. But it doesn't matter, is what Buck really wants to say. I only want you anyway. I'm afraid that I’m destined to be alone forever because you're it for me. No one has ever been so it for me.

“I don’t want to talk about my problems anymore,” Buck decides. The let’s talk about your problems now goes kind of unspoken. Buck has never been one for subtlety.

Eddie shifts beside him infinitesimally, the stiff-starched arm of his uniform rubbing against Buck’s bicep. Buck stares at the broom harder. “I’m not ready. Not…not yet.”

Yet. Buck holds onto that word like a lifeline.

“I’ll be here whenever you are.”

Like most bad decisions Buck has made in his life, he slightly acknowledges in his head that it might be bad before he does it, and then he does it anyway.

It’s slightly insane just how extensive his list of phone contacts is, mostly because once he has someone’s number, he never deletes it. Maybe he’s overly sentimental, but it had always felt too final to erase someone completely out of his phone.

Buck is not going to accidentally fall in love with someone after fake dating them for 2 weeks. Like, that’s just seriously not happening. Not even just because Buck is Totally Completely Normal now, but because he simply doesn’t have the energy.

And then there’s the Eddie thing. There’s so many Eddie things.

So Buck does all the calculations and equations needed to figure out who in his phone is least likely to tell him to go fuck himself if he said, “Hey. I know it’s been a while since we talked, but I really need to appease my neglectful parents for the next 2 weeks, so will you be my fake girlfriend until they leave, pretty please with a cherry on top? I’ll buy you dinner.” Or something like that.

He knows how ridiculous the entire situation is and how pinheaded an ask this is going to be, but he’s way past the point of shame. Or it’s just going to really hit him when it’s all over and done with and he’s already completely embarrassed and made an ass out of himself. Either is fine.

Because he’s a self-destructive idiot, a hopeless romantic and a grade-A masochist, he remembers pretty much everyone he’s ever been involved with. If not in vivid detail, then at least in blurry intervals, vignettes of very unwise and impulsive decisions. He remembers almost everything, which leads him here: hiding in his own bathroom even though he lives alone, because what he’s doing right now shouldn’t be seen by God or anyone.

Frowning down at his phone screen, his thumb hovers over Nadia, a very nice woman he met on some dating app before he gained an iota of self respect. Before he met Abby, who almost completely destroyed him, but he became so, so much better for it. His leg twinges in pain on cue like it’s punishing him for being so very stupid. The jokes on his leg, though: he’s definitely done much worse than this. If anything, this is light work for Evan Buckley.

Nadia knew that their ‘relationship’ was bullshit, she knew that Buck was full of shit, and had no such qualms about telling him about it, and even embraced it in some weird, fucked up way. It was kind of refreshing.

But even though it was bullshit, Buck thinks back on it fondly instead of with full-bodied horror like most things. Seriously, they had a real thing going on. A real thing, as in fucking everywhere humanly possible whenever Buck had free time. One time, she sat on his face for so long he almost suffocated to death. It was great!

She’s probably going to laugh at him. And Buck is going to deserve it.

If she even answers.

Before he can overthink himself over a ledge, he opens their chat history and starts typing. Hey. No, too impersonal. Remember me? Too stalkerish. I need a really big favor I’ll do whatever you want I’ll literally do your taxes and laundry for the rest of your life–

No. He has to be nonchalant.

Hey, can we talk?

Sure, why not.

He hits send, and then he gets up off his bathroom floor with a groan akin to that of an 80 year old with frail bones. He makes his way down his stupid fucking loft stairs with maximum effort, a sudden wave of vertigo sending him careening to the side and almost to an untimely death. If after every near-death experience he’s ever had—and actually, literally dying—he managed to accidentally kill himself falling off of his loft staircase, he’d be so pissed.

The post stupid decision clarity is hitting him big time, sooner than it usually does, so he chugs an entire bottle of water and then deep cleans his entire kitchen. And then vacuums the entire loft. And then reorganizes his bookshelf by last name order.

She’s definitely gonna think this is a booty call. Why is he so stupid? He should have never–

His phone starts ringing.

He rushes over to where his phone is face down in shame on his kitchen island, banging his knee against the counter in his haste. His teeth chatter in pain as he sees the giant incoming call from Nadia.

He answers it before it goes dead. Buck is so surprised, he accidentally blurts out, “You didn’t delete my number?

There’s silence for a couple of seconds, and then: “Woah.”

Buck has no idea what that woah means, but he can take a wild guess. “I’m kinda surprised you actually answered,” he admits sheepishly.

They didn’t end on bad terms, because there wasn’t really anything to end in the first place. They just kind of…stopped.

“I am too,” Nadia admits frankly. “It’s been, what–how many years? I was never good at math.”

“Me neither,” Buck laughs. Now that he has her on the line, he has no idea what to say. How had he managed to pull so many girls back then? Fake it ‘til you make it had never been so apt. “How–how have you been?”

Nadia sighs wistfully. “Terrible. Crying, waiting for you to call me back every day. You ruined me, y’know?”

Buck pauses.

“Joke. I’m joking.”

“Oh.” Buck laughs and runs a hand over his face. “Oh, yeah, right. Of course.”

“Still got a big head, Buckley?”

Buck shrugs even though she can’t see him. “Dunno. You answered kinda fast. You miss me that much?”

He’s such a piece of shit. The flirting thing is just so easy to fall back into. Well, he never claimed to be a good person.

“In your wildest of dreams,” Nadia replies easily. “What do you need?”

Buck frowns. “How’d you know I need something?”

“Why else would you call?”

Ouch. But true.

“Uh, it’s, uh. It’s kind of a long story.”

“I’m on break. I got time.”

Buck sighs. He’ll just get on with it. He’ll think of it as a business call. A business proposal? “Well, okay. Did we ever talk about my–my parents?”

Nadia makes a thoughtful noise. “In passing. I just assumed you hated them. I mean, from what I gathered. I don’t know if you remember, but we didn’t do much talking.”

Buck blushes despite himself. “Well, that’s not–I don't hate them.”

“Right.”

“Anyway, they’re in town right now. And last time I saw them, uh. Okay. I’ll give you full context. So, my coworker proposed to my sister, right, and they were to be married. But then I lost him at his bachelor party, and it turns out he was roaming the streets with encephalitis? So, we end up finding him, but he had to be hospitalized, obviously. So he and my sister had their ceremony in his hospital room, and it was actually really romantic. My parents were there, and like, tons of other people. Then my boyfriend at the time–” Buck stops in his tracks. “Oh, right, I’m bi.”

A pause. “Yeah, that checks out.”

And, well, okay. Hen told him the same thing, but with much more tact and class.

“Right. Anyway, he works with LAFD Air Operations. And he was called to help with a real big fire the night before, so I wasn’t expecting him to make it to the ceremony in time, but then he came straight from work and texted me right after they said their I dos and shit, and I met him in the lobby and then I made out with him because, uh, I love a man in uniform I guess. Right, and he had, like, soot all over his face because, fire, obviously. But I wasn’t thinking about that, so I go back inside the room with soot all over my face. And there’s this guy beside me with soot all over him, so people put two and two together. And I hadn’t seen my parents since I die–uh, maybe I’ll tell you about that later. I hadn’t seen them in some time, and this sexuality realization thing was recent, so they didn’t know. We didn’t talk about it because the focus was my sister and Chimney—that’s my coworker, sorry—and then they went back to Pennsylvania.

But they’re back now because it's my niece’s birthday soon—I have a niece now—and they wanna be involved in her life or whatever. Which is great, yeah. So, we had this awkward dinner, right, and they kind of interrogated me about that ex-boyfriend. And they were talking about me finally settling down and starting a family, and I was like, huh. Is this because I kissed a man? And then my mom ended up setting me on these blind dates with these women, and I went on them, and it was. Yeah.

Anyway. They’re staying longer than I thought, and I actually can’t go on anymore dates or I might die. I’m taking a vow of relationship celibacy, you see. So, my other coworker had this idea–I don’t think he was being completely serious, but that’s not important. But he was like-”

“Fake girlfriend?”

Buck stops in his tracks. “Wh-wait. Yeah.”

Nadia hums. “Your life is actually insane. Jesus Christ. Thank you for telling me all that, I haven’t seen this much action in a while.”

“Huh–you’re welcome? I guess.”

“So, hypothetically, I’d be your fake girlfriend for how long?”

“2 weeks. Uh, my niece’s birthday party is in 3 days, and I need to take someone with me. As a hard launch. it’s kinda short notice, sorry.”

There’s a couple moments of silence on the other end, and Buck is bracing to be cussed out or hung up on.

“I had a real soft spot for you, you know that, Buckley?”

Well, that’s not at all what Buck was expecting to hear.

“O-oh. Why-why are you telling me this?”

“I’m justifying the dumb thing I’m about to do.” Pause. “I’m off tomorrow, I don’t have much goin’ on.” Nadia hums thoughtfully again. “And you know I’m game for anything, Buckley. I’d love to bear witness to the tragedy that is your life again.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. He feels so relieved, he almost topples over. He leans against the counter with an exhale. “Wow, that’s uh. I wasn’t expecting this to be so easy?”

Nadia was always chill, but Buck guesses he doesn’t completely remember the extent of that chillness. Maybe she really did like him, in some weird way. Or maybe the sex was just that good.

Nadia’s quiet for a moment. “We had some good times together, huh?” She muses like she knows exactly what Buck is thinking.

“That’s not–that’s not why I called.”

“I know. Jeez, can’t a girl reminisce?”

“Sorry.” Buck sighs. “I’m, uh. I owe you big time. Thank you.”

“Just buy me a drink later.”

“Deal.”

They hang up with promise to meet up later to get their fake story straight over some drinks, and Buck pumps his fist into the air in triumph.

Margaret Buckley is going to be so happy to see him with a woman.

He knows his parents probably won’t ever address it directly, because Margaret and Phillip are people who dance around the truth like it’s their job. If his mother so much as began to utter the word bisexual, she’d probably burst into a ball of flames, or her eyes would roll back into her head and she’d collapse and start convulsing like the little girl in The Exorcist.

When Buck did his first comprehensive deepdive on bisexuality after Tommy kissed him for the first time, there was a lot of talk about stigmatization. Like, it’s not real, just pick a side, you’re just being greedy, that kind of thing. And, well. Maybe Buck is a little greedy. Everyone is just so hot, how is that his fault?

Somehow, Buck’s dating pool is bigger than the average person’s, and he’s still ended up here. Maybe after this is over, Buck will pick a side. The side of dying sad and alone with no one to call his own. Fun!

The funny thing about this is, Buck feels like if Tommy never dated him, his parents would love him. He’s kind of similar to them, in some ways. And he has a cleft! There’s also the gay thing, but. Minor details.

Either way, Buck can pretend he was miraculously cured of the LGBT if it gets his parents off his back for now. If he keeps reminding himself that they won’t be here forever, metaphorically hovering his shoulder every waking moment with a disapproving eye, he can stop himself from completely losing his mind for good.

It’ll be fine.

This is the totally real, honest truth:

Buck and Nadia dated not too long after Buck first arrived in California, before Buck became a terror to the women of Los Angeles, slutting it out all over the place like the impulsive and self-destructive person he is. It was real, true love. Like, fairytale level stuff, the stuff that you don’t believe exists until you get to experience it for yourself.

But then something terrible happened! Oh no! Buck’s firefighter schedule got in the way of their relationship because it was hard to work around oh so many 24 hour shifts, and things fell apart.

Everything was Buck’s fault like it always is! How typical of him!

That’s what he gets for being a dirty firefighter. What a stupid job! But, by act of grace, they miraculously reconnected some time ago as friends, and just recently decided to give it a second shot. What are the chances! She’s pretty and nice and respectable, with an office job and a quaint little place in Toluca Lake, and she’s a woman! Wow! How wonderful!

“So that’s where we’re at right now,” Buck says to his parents, clutching Nadia’s soft hand in his like a lifeline. She rubs soothing circles over his knuckles, and Buck tries not to break her hand. “You guys, uh, kinda inspired me. After that talk we had a-and all those dates, I was really thinking about my life and what I want. And I do want to settle down.”

Margaret and Phillip Buckley seem to be in subdued disbelief, but they don’t look disgusted. That’s a miracle in and of itself.

“You seem like a lovely girl,” Margaret says to Nadia, and it doesn’t sound completely fake and passive-aggressive and loaded with underlying and cryptic meaning.

“You guys seem lovely as well,” Nadia smiles sweetly at them, and Buck remembers her well enough to know that she doesn’t believe a single word she’s saying. The sparkly light of Maddie and Chimney’s backyard makes her look like she’s telling the truth. “Buck has told me a lot about you.”

Buck almost busts out laughing at that, but bites his lip and manages to keep his cool. What he has told her hasn’t been…flattering. He didn’t completely slander their names either, but Nadia was smart enough to put two and two together when faced with Buck’s coyness about the whole thing.

When he arrived, Hen had sent him a look so withering he almost turned right back around and went home. Karen was dumbfounded, clearly out of the loop. Chimney looked amused and then kind of scared, like he was reliving the Buckley-Han family dinner from hell. Buck didn’t even have to ask Chimney if he had tattled on him to Maddie, who looked equally as miffed. Ravi blinked at him like a baby deer, clearly disbelieving that Buck would go through with this. He thankfully has mostly been able to avoid Bobby and Athena’s covert and conspiratorial glances for most of the night. The man just died, he doesn’t need to be dealing with Buck’s bullshit right now. He’ll have plenty of time for that when he returns to the 118. He has to return, or Buck will kill him dead a second time.

If Buck told Bobby about the whole thing he’s gotten himself in, he’d probably give him that one long-suffering and fatherly look that says, I’m not mad, just disappointed. And then he’d speak to Buck in riddles about family and obligations and spreading yourself too thin or something, and Buck would get another migraine.

At least the kids don’t care. And then there’s—

Eddie. Buck feels a little electric shock shoot through his body each time he even so much as thinks his name, like his body is punishing him for it. He’s like a cat getting sprayed with a water bottle. Stop it!

Eddie has been sending him tortured baby cow looks all night, oscillating between naked concern and what seems to be barely-concealed indignation. Right.

But it’s okay. All that really matters is that Jee-yun very much loved her assortment of Jellycats and her Barbie Getaway House, and that Buck is the best uncle to ever have uncled in the entire world.

Nadia and his parents have a couple more minutes of shallow conversation as Margaret sends Buck increasingly quizzical side-eyes when she thinks he isn’t paying attention. “I’m gonna go get another drink,” Nadia announces. She turns to Buck, dark waves of hair swishing behind her, and he tries to figure out how to telepathically communicate the words don’t leave me alone with them please please please please to her without looking suspicious. “You want anything, babe?”

Buck smiles and hopes it reaches his eyes. “I’m good, thanks.”

She stands up from her patio chair, lets go of his hand and kisses his cheek to really seal the deal before she whisks away, stealing all the warmth with her. Buck still has it in him to blush.

Her flowery perfume lingers in the air. Everyone betrays you in the end. Buck knows this well.

“She’s a beautiful girl,” Margaret says, and it seems like she really means it.

“I missed her. I think she could really be the one,” Buck lies. It doesn’t feel like such a grand fabrication when he says it out loud. Maybe she could be the one in a different life, or maybe in this life if he wasn’t hopelessly devoted to his best friend–

Buck chances a glance to the side and catches Eddie’s profile. He seems to be engrossed in very deep conversation with Maddie, and Buck smiles before he can catch himself, watching two of his favorite people in the whole wide world interact. He wishes Eddie would look up at him again, even for a second, even to give him another probing look Buck has no idea the meaning of.

“This isn’t…” Phillip hesitates for a moment. “This isn’t one of your impulse decisions, is it? You know we just want what’s best for you, Ev…Buck.”

Buck sounds unnatural coming out of his mouth, almost offensive. Yes, Buck thinks, this is one of my impulse decisions. I’m great at those, if you haven’t noticed. You wanna talk about when I first started making them?

“No,” Buck lies again. “You guys really made me think. I’m trying to be serious. I’m ready to be serious. I-I am serious.”

And that’s true, isn’t it? He is ready, but it seems like the universe has different plans for him. Different plans, meaning a lifetime of failed relationships because he’s destined to be hung up on his best friend for the rest of his natural-born life. And that’s only if he doesn’t end up joining the priesthood and never touching anyone ever again even though he doesn’t really believe in God.

Margaret reaches out to touch him on the arm, and Buck freezes. He wishes that the gesture would bring him some semblance of comfort, but all it does is make him feel cold.

“We’re…we’re glad you’re happy. That’s all we wanted.”

It’s a nice thing to say, generally, but Buck doesn’t feel happy to hear it. Not even really because his relationship with Nadia isn’t real, but because of who it’s coming from. He doesn’t think it’d be validating to hear from them even if he had actually introduced them to the love of his life.

Buck is filled with an inexplicable feeling of dread all of a sudden, washing over him like a tide touching sand. “Uh.”

A hand rests on his shoulder from above. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.” Chimney sends him a dubious look, and a wave of relief floods through Buck’s entire body. “Buck, Jee really, really wants you to play with her inside. She’s asking for you.”

Buck stands up too fast to not seem suspicious, almost toppling over. “Oh, wouldn’t wanna keep her waiting!” He turns back to his parents. “Uh, I’ll see you guys. Later.”

He scurries away before either of them can get another word in, Chimney ushering him back inside the house with his hand still on Buck’s shoulder in a comforting press.

Buck lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when they pass the threshold. “Thanks for the save.”

“Don’t mention it.” Chimney drops his hand.

“Where did Jee go anyway?”

“She’s crashing from her sugar high in our bed. She’ll be back, trust me. Where’s your fake bae?”

“Please never say ‘fake bae’ ever again.” Buck makes a beeline towards the kitchen where he knows the alcohol is hiding in plain sight. He wasn’t planning on drinking at a child’s birthday party, but life comes at you fast. “And she ditched me. Completely understandable, I think. Considering.”

“Yeah, considering.” Chimney watches him down half a beer. “You know, those are mine.”

Buck places his bottle down on the counter. “What’s yours is mine. We’re family.”

Chimney opens his mouth to say something probably particularly scathing when Nadia rounds the corner, looking mildly guilty when she realizes she’s not alone.

“You traitor,” Buck says. “Where did you go?”

She squints her eyes sheepishly. “I went to go play a couple levels of Candy Crush in the guest bedroom. Your parents just have this crazy way of making me feel unsettled. I thought I was gonna die.”

“I know the feeling well,” Chimney says gravely.

Nadia smiles at him. “I haven’t had a chance to say it yet, but your home is really beautiful. Thanks for welcoming Buck’s fake girlfriend into your home.”

Chimney sighs long-sufferingly. “If you and Buck make it to fake marriage, you can come over whenever you like.”

“Anyway,” Buck says loudly. “I’m going to the bathroom. Don’t bond too much while I’m gone.”

“No promises. Hey, Nadia, you wanna hear some really embarrassing stories about Buck before you fake break up?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Buck huffs and stomps away to the hallway, checking in on Jee-yun passed out in the master bedroom and smiling to himself before making his way to the bathroom.

He shuts the door behind himself and lets out a deep sigh. He should start a personal countdown of the days left until his parents fuck off back to Hershey.

He splashes his face with freezing cold water in hopes that it’ll knock his brain back into place and sighs again. Everything is fine.

Eddie catches him when he exits the bathroom.

“Can we talk?”

Buck stops in his tracks. “Oh.”

“Why are you wet?”

“Uh.” Buck pushes his hair out of his face and sniffs. Eddie looks like he might laugh. “Yeah, yeah, we can talk. Come on.”

He feels strangely like he’s walking into a death sentence as he leads Eddie to the guest bedroom, heart pounding in his ribcage for absolutely no discernible reason. Buck misses Eddie so much, he feels it down to his bones, but he has no idea what to expect.

When the door clicks shut behind them, Eddie says, “I’m ready.”

“Wh-huh?”

Eddie watches him patiently. God, he’s so beautiful, Buck is going to kill himself. “I said I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Last time…I am now.”

Oh. Oh. The it of it all. Buck has been dying to have this conversation, but now, being faced with Eddie’s steady gaze, he’s not even sure if he’s ready.

Buck sits on the edge of the bed, but Eddie stays standing, pacing. Buck gestures at him to start.

“I’ve been thinking—God, Buck, I’ve been doing so much thinking lately, I think my head’s gonna explode.”

He pauses, and Buck waits with bated breath. He’ll let eons pass and everything turn to dust around them if that’s what Eddie needs to get this off his chest. Whatever it takes for him to confide in Buck again.

“I think–I’ve always felt like a bad dad-”

“You’re not.” Buck really, really doesn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s so fundamentally untrue that he has to refute it immediately. “You’re a good dad, Eddie. A great one. Just because you-you made some mistakes doesn’t mean that you’re bad. You’re human. You’re a good dad.”

Eddie shakes his head like he’s trying to shake some thoughts away, trying to make sense of whatever mess is swirling through his head. A wave of guilt passes over Buck so strong it makes him shiver. How could Buck ever think that giving Eddie space was the right decision to make? Everything is only right when they’re together.

“I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I'm trying to convince myself because that’s what everyone keeps telling me. Frank always calls it–” Eddie turns to him and air-quotes for full effect, “something I have to try to ‘unlearn.’ And I always thought ‘unlearning’ was pretentious bullshit, at least I did at first, but.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I have so much shit I have to unlearn, actually.”

Buck gets it. He should probably definitely stop ghosting his new therapist, but he remembers all the talk of unlearning behaviors and notions you’ve created and forgiving yourself. And unlearning that you’re a terrible father if you mess up, a terrible person overall, is definitely something Buck wants for him.

“And now that Chris is gone and it’s just me in that house, I’ve just–had way too much time to myself. And to think about myself and other parts of my life outside of being a father.” Eddie stops pacing. “I never meant for it to…put a wall between us.”

Buck swallows. “I mean it’s–I get it, Eddie. You don’t have to-”

“But I want to,” Eddie cuts him off, not unkindly. He finally stops pacing and takes a seat next to Buck on the bed, and Buck feels his entire body start buzzing from the proximity. And he thinks to himself, be chill be chill bechillbechillbechillbechill. “Look, I don’t want us to drift apart because of anything I go through, and vice versa. That’s not us. I know I…I isolate, but I’m working on it.”

Buck nods valiantly, but the truth is he wants to kick his feet or maybe run a lap around the house because Eddie…trusts him. Eddie’s trust might be the most important thing that Buck has in the entire world, and sometimes he can’t believe that he gets to have it. He wants to fuse bodies with Eddie so they can never be apart ever, ever again.

“I know you’re working on it,” Buck says normally, because he’s completely normal and having a normal reaction to this normal situation. “I’m…I’m proud of you, you know?”

Eddie manages to look rueful and bashful at the same time, smoothing a hand down the back of his neck, and Buck wants to copy the motion and interlock their fingers together. “Sometimes I feel like I’m not doing much lately besides talking about my problems and then thinking about my problems.”

“That’s a lot,” Buck nods. “Most people won’t even admit that there’s…stuff they have to work on. Or that there’s even stuff to begin with.”

“Maybe.” Eddie pauses. “And hey, I haven't punched a hole in another wall.”

“That-” Buck huffs out a surprised laugh. “That's good.”

Somehow, Buck doesn’t feel like he’s gotten his point across enough. Just how good Eddie is. Maybe words won’t ever be enough. “I’m serious, though.” Buck looks Eddie directly in the eye so that he can really drive his point home, and the whiskey golden-brown that looks back at him makes him braver. “Eddie, you’re–you’re the best person I know.” Eddie pulls a face at that, but Buck continues on undeterred. “You told me, all that time ago, that you love Chris enough to try. You know, some–some parents don't even try in the first place, but you never stop trying. All you do is try.”

It’s more than he meant to say, or maybe just enough. Eddie’s eyes soften boundlessly, and he nods solemnly, like he’s forcing himself to take the compliment.

“Alright, then.”

Buck tries not to ache with want too hard, but it feels like he fails. “I’m always gonna be here for you no matter what, you know that? There’s nothing you can do, or-or say, that’ll ever scare me away or make me think of you differently.”

“I know,” Eddie says, and it sounds like he does know. “I want to be there for you, too.”

“You are. You always are.”

They’re too close. Buck realizes, then, that it’s too intimate. On the edge of a bed, slats of late summer sun casting beams of light on them from the window. He can count the dust motes floating in the air.

“Good,” Eddie says after a moment. They look at each other, and Buck has a momentary loss of composure where he truly considers leaning in before he remembers where he is. “So,” Eddie starts again casually, but it’s too casual to actually be casual. He gestures to the door with a tip of his head. “They buy it?”

Buck blinks a couple of times to try and get his brain to come back online. “Huh? Oh.”

The other elephant in the room, or rather the two elephants sitting in Maddie and Chim’s backyard as they speak. Buck considers this. “I don't think I’ll be getting an Oscar for my performance, but maybe a Golden Globe?”

Eddie huffs in amusement, but the soft edges of him seem tense again. “She seems nice.”

“Nadia? Yeah, she’s–we–I mean. Yeah.”

The edges of Eddie’s mouth tweak up a bit, and Buck is glad that his fumbling can bring him some amusement. “Uh huh.”

“I’m gonna end up owing her a lot of drinks,” Buck ends up saying.

“How’d you manage to rope her into this one?”

“Free drinks,” Buck jokes. “Well, not really, I mean. It actually wasn’t that hard to convince her. ‘Cuz she likes me. Not-not like that, but. Well, we did hook up several times, but that’s not the point. I guess she’s just the kind of person who would agree to stuff like this.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah, well, we never did much talking,” Buck laughs bashfully. “But I made an educated guess! And it paid off.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie says again.

Buck narrows his eyes at him. “You’re judging me,” he accuses lightheartedly. Look, it’s not that crazy. Crazier things have happened. The Inland Taipan has the strongest venom on the planet, and one bite is capable of killing approximately 100 humans. Now, that’s crazy!

“Am not,” Eddie says unconvincingly, and Buck is suddenly taken aback by the sheer enormity of his desire. How had Buck ever not noticed it when it’s consuming his whole being like this? Had loving Eddie like this been so intrinsic to his being it was almost impossible to notice it was even there?

“Sure. Well, she hasn’t been scared off by my parents yet. I think.”

Eddie suddenly makes a very cryptic face at the direct mention of his parents. Except, it’s not really cryptic, because Eddie is terrible at fixing his face.

“You okay?”

“Jeez, Eddie, you’re asking me if I'm okay?”

“You know you’re important too, right,” he says like a statement instead of a question. “I’m not the only one in this room,” Eddie lifts a shoulder in a not-quite-shrug. “I always wanna know if you’re okay.” He shrugs for real this time, but it sounds anything but casual to Buck’s ears.

He’s going to die. Buck is gonna die, right here in Maddie and Chimney’s guest bedroom on this unremarkable summer evening, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

“Yeah, I’m, uh.” Well, how is he, really? And is there really any point in hiding anything from Eddie, who knows so many awful, revolting and ugly things about him and still cares for him so deeply? He deserves more than non-committal half-truths. “Hm. I don’t know. It’s just been weird, seeing them again. After the-the strike, and then the wedding. I guess I wasn’t prepared because they just…dropped in. And now all of a sudden my mom is scarily invested in my love life. She doesn’t want me to die alone or something.”

“You’re not alone,” Eddie says like Buck has just dishonored him and his entire bloodline.

“I know,” Buck huffs. And he does know, sort of. He’s got a family, a real one in LA that loves him, not in spite, but because. But there’s still something missing anyway, isn’t there? A different kind of love. The kind of love he’s been searching for his whole life, the love he stayed in doomed relationships for, patiently and steadily bleeding out because affection and attention always come after pain.

“They don’t know, though, I guess,” Buck says instead. “And, y’know, it’s every parent's dream to have 600 grandkids.”

Eddie is wearing that one face of his that makes him look like a cat that’s just tasted something sour again.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Buck laughs.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Eddie says, expression unchanging. He pauses. “You know, Buck, you keep hurting yourself to appease them. What about what you want?”

And then Buck pauses. He didn’t think of this as hurting himself—demoralizing dates and revisiting old hookups, these are all things that he can do. One thing his body is good for, if nothing else. He thought, or rather hoped, that he was way past the point of doing things for his parents to acknowledge him, but Buck rarely gets what he wants.

“I’m not hurt.” And it feels…true? To a certain extent, at least. He hasn’t been feeling like he’s walking around with an open wound like he usually does when he sees his parents, slowly bleeding out all over the place. It feels more like there’s a hollow in his chest instead, something emptying him out piece by piece like a melon scooper. “I’m just-I’m trying to make things right. Even if the ‘right’ isn’t real—I’m tired of every interaction I have with them being…tense. I swear, Chimney almost had a nervous breakdown at the last family dinner we had. Me too, actually.”

“That shouldn’t be your responsibility,” Eddie says with conviction. “Making things right. You didn’t make them wrong in the first place. The tension? That’s on them. That's not on you, Buck.”

Buck has been shouldering something ever since parents skipped back into town, or maybe his whole life, but those four words from Eddie–that’s not on you–make him deflate like a balloon, like he needed permission for it to not be his fault.

“I think I know that,” Buck says. “But I’m trying to do it anyway. Wishing that your parents would just love you. I mean–it’s a little pathetic, isn't it.”

Eddie is silent for a moment, and something complicated passes over his face. He shakes his head. “I hate it when you talk like that, you know that?”

Buck gnaws at the raw insides of his cheek, but Eddie isn’t done. “You're so–you’re so good, Buck. Too good. They don't deserve you, or your understanding, or your compassion, your forgiveness, whatever.”

Buck exhales. “Eddie.”

He lifts a hand up. “What you do with them is up to you. But don’t ever think for a second that their feelings are above yours, because they’re not. They’re just not.”

They sit with this for a second. Buck kind of feels like crying, or throwing up, or melding their souls together so they’re one entity. It’s unnerving how he doesn’t feel like hiding from Eddie at all. He wants to give himself fully. He wants to tell him every little dirty and shameful thing about his childhood because he knows that Eddie would never make him feel bad about it.

“Your family is right here,” Eddie says with a sense of finality. “Chris wants to come home.”

Buck’s entire world stops. “Wh-what?”

Eddie gives him a little smile. It’s delighted, full of a little regret and a lot of relief. “He called me this morning. I was gonna tell you sooner, bu–”

Before Buck can stop himself, he lunges himself at Eddie and tosses his arms around his neck, crushing him in a hug. Eddie makes an amusing shocked little noise, catching Buck by the waist.

“God, Eddie, that’s so good, I-I’m so happy. I missed him so much, you know, I love that kid more than anything. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been because I was busy doing stupid shit, you were suffering so much, I-I just didn’t wanna push it because you were so–”

“Buck,” Eddie says, but his face is smushed into the underside of Buck’s jaw, so it comes out more like Uck.

Buck clears his throat and lets him go, curling his hands into fists on his lap to prevent himself from reaching back out. Their last real hug was when Chris first left, and Buck held Eddie when he broke down after the door shut behind them. And then before that, when Buck came out to him, and Eddie told him, this doesn’t change a thing between us, this doesn’t change a thing between us, this doesn’t change a thing between us—

“Stop apologizing,” Eddie says and steadies him with a look. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“But–”

“Cut that out, I’m serious. I know things have been different. It’s not like I was giving you much to work with, anyway. But just…” Buck takes a steadying breath. “Just knowing you were an arm’s reach away, just knowing you were there, that helped. I’m glad I have you in my corner.”

Cool, Buck thinks. That’s cool. I think I might die from loving you so much.

“I-”

There’s a gentle knock on the door, and then Maddie is peeking her head inside the room with an apologetic smile. “We’re finally cutting the cake.”

Buck lets the conversation go. It's probably for the better, because he’s not sure if he can trust himself not to do something stupid and irreversible around Eddie these days. When they pass her on the way out of the room, Maddie tips her head at Buck and gives him a probing look, and he feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn't have even though he hasn't done anything.

And if he thinks about Eddie for the rest of the evening, that’s no one’s business but his own.

(If Buck really thinks about it, this is all Eddie’s fault.

Sure, Buck has always been prone to self-destructing, but the Eddie of it all has been making things really difficult lately. So, if you ask Buck why shit suddenly hits the fan, he’ll tell you that the brainworms in his head in charge of loving Eddie messed with his judgment so much, he went mad. It happens like this:)

Buck’s parents are finally heading back to Pennsylvania.

He almost jumps for joy when he checks his calendar, but then he decides to keep it classy. Only one more family dinner from hell, and then he can be free from these last strange and eye-opening 3 weeks of his life.

He gives Nadia a warning that things might be uncomfortable and unpleasant and stifling, and all she says in response is, “Bring it on.” She’s probably really enjoying the free drinks and gossip sessions. She’s been handling the past 2 weeks like a champ, and maybe Buck would consider real-dating her if he weren’t. Well.

Buck has slight hope about this one, if only because Jee-yun is here this time, and children are usually great buffers for all things unpleasant.

They’re gathered at Maddie and Chimney’s place, and for 2 blessed hours, nothing goes wrong. No one is crying, or yelling, or reliving traumatic repressed childhood memories, and Buck is feeling decent. They’re eating dessert, the night is almost over, and Maddie is asking them how they liked their visit. Buck thinks they all might make it out of this one unscathed.

“It was lovely getting to know your…people here more, outside of a hospital room. You’ve made quite a life for yourself, Maddie.”

Maddie smiles and nods, not like she’s pleased at the compliment, but like she’s pleased at the mere mention of her family. Buck smiles too.

Margaret swirls her glass of wine contemplatively with a little smile. “And Evan, he’s getting there. I thought he’d never get there.”

Smile, laugh awkwardly, brush it off, onto the next one. Because it’s a teasing joke, even though she definitely means every word. But something inside of Buck snaps, or rather settles. Maybe it’s the way she doesn't even refer to him directly, doesn’t even look at him, really. It’s not a major slight; Buck has heard far worse things come out of Margaret Buckley’s mouth, but something about it sets a fire in the pit of stomach. Because his parents don’t even know him enough to have the right to think that, do they? And now because they’re allowed to be in their grandchild’s life, in a house too good for them, they're acting like they’ve been so involved. Like their relationship is normal. Like they’ve always invested in and cared about their son’s happiness. And Buck is sick of it.

Smile, laugh awkwardly, brush it off, onto the next one. He can’t do it anymore. He won’t.

Maddie dims and shakes her head like she’s about to say something, but before she can, Buck stands up, his chair making a hideous scraping noise against hardwood. “You know what? I’m done with this.”

If there’s one thing Buck can rely on about himself, it’s his ability to cause a scene. Sometimes he thinks he should’ve gone into show business instead of firefighting.

Maddie’s eyes jut out of her head almost comically, and Buck sends her a silent apology he hopes that she can hear before turning back to their parents. He doesn’t even dare to look at Chimney. He’ll have to buy him a fruit basket later, and maybe some heart medication. He’ll just have to let Nadia max out his credit card or something as repayment. Thank God Jee has gone to bed.

“What–” Phillip is saying, but Buck cuts him off.

“No. I’m done. You’d really do that to me? You-you’d really say that in front of someone I’m dating? What, is your lifelong goal to humiliate me every chance you get? Talk down on me?”

Now that he’s started, he can’t stop. It’s like he’s watching this happen to someone else, hovering over his own body. “Well guess what? It’s a lie. We’re not dating. And I’m done going along with your stupid fucking meddling. You don’t care about me! Not really! You care about the idea of me, a-about the idea of repairing a relationship with your son that was never a relationship in the first place. Just so you can feel better about yourselves. Really, I’m not a son to you. I never was. You pick and choose when to care about me. I know what you'll always see when you look at me, you can't help yourselves. All you do is make me feel bad about myself, for some shit that wasn’t my fault, and I’m done with it. I have nothing to prove to you. Nothing.”

Buck’s heart is jackhammering in his chest, like it’s trying to leap out of him. Margaret has brought out the waterworks, but Buck won’t let himself be swayed. Not again.

“How–” she chokes out. “How can you say that to us?”

Buck scoffs, chest heaving. “To you? And who are you, exactly? Because you’re not my family, that’s for damn sure.”

No one says anything. Maybe there’s nothing to say, really. Buck hates that he’s made Maddie look so sad, again. Chimney’s got a steadying hand on her shoulder. Nadia drains the rest of her wine.

“I’m leaving. Maddie and Chim, thanks for dinner, I love you. Nadia, come on.”

Nadia scrambles out of her seat like she was waiting for his cue, rushing out a Uhhhhthankyousomuchfordinner before scurrying after Buck, almost eating shit after tripping in her high heels.

When the front door shuts behind them, Buck lets out a deep, deep breath. They stand on the doorstep in silence for a while, breathing in the stuffy night air.

“Let me take you home,” Buck says after a while.

Nadia exhales. “Yeah.”

The entire drive to Toluca Lake is quiet, contemplative. Buck feels terrible, but he also feels lighter in a strange way. Maybe blowing up your entire life is actually healthy, and therapists just don’t want you to know that.

He parks in front of her place. She watches him for a second, then nods. “Well, I guess our engagement is off.”

Buck cracks a smile at that. “Guess so. Look, I’m really so–”

“Don’t,” she interrupts him, not unkindly. “We’re friends again, right? And this is what friends do for each other. Committing to a bit, no matter how batshit. And you are absolutely batshit, I can tell you that much.”

Buck huffs out a startled laugh. “I-I guess I can’t argue with that.”

Her eyes soften, and she reaches out to place a hand at his nape. “Are you sure you wanna be alone right now?”

“I won’t be,” Buck assures her. “There’s…someone I need to talk to.”

She appraises him for a second, then nods. “Don’t be a stranger, Buckley.”

“I won’t. I…think I owe you a couple more drinks, anyway. And then some.”

She kisses him on the cheek and hops out of the Jeep, and Buck watches her go. His phone vibrates in the cupholder.

It’s a text from Maddie. All it says is, Don’t forget that I love you so much. That’s all he needs.

Buck remembers the last time he lashed out at his parents, Eddie reassured him that he wasn’t a villain. Maybe you could’ve come at it a little differently. But if that’s how you feel, how they made you feel, you have every right to say so. That reassurance, back then, was the only thing that pulled Buck away from the ledge.

He didn’t get it right this time either, did he? He still raised his voice, caused a scene. But that’s how he felt, so he said so. Hopefully he won’t have to ever again.

Family. Where his parents are chaos, Eddie is peace. Steadiness, that’s what he associates with Eddie. A soft place to land, and a home. Home. Buck wants to go home.

By the time Buck turns onto South Bedford, it’s nearing 9. Eddie is either asleep, or so wired he’ll probably stay up all night. For a second, he thinks he shouldn’t have come—Eddie needs as much rest as he can get these days, and he’s flying back to El Paso at the end of the week—but he shakes the thought off as quickly as it came. Eddie will always let him in without protest, always.

Buck lets out a deep, deep breath and knocks on his front door.

It doesn’t take Eddie long to open it; he must’ve been awake. He takes Buck in for a second. “Why’d you knock?”

Buck suddenly feels sorely overdressed in his dark button-up at the sight of Eddie’s worn sweatpants. “I don’t…know.”

The teasing tilt of his half-smile falls, and he opens the door wider. “Come on.”

Buck crosses the threshold and makes his way straight to the kitchen, plopping down in a dining chair at the table. Eddie gestures to the fridge. “Do you want a-”

“Nah.”

Eddie sits down across from him, crossing his hands in front of him on the table. They sit there for a moment.

“You look nice.”

Buck laughs a little. “I don’t feel it.”

“How’d dinner go?”

Well. Buck rubs a tired hand down the back of his neck. “It, uh, well. I think I ruined it. Again.”

Eddie raises a brow.

“I freaked out on them again,” Buck clarifies.

“What’d they say this time?”

It makes Buck smile despite himself, that Eddie has automatically taken his side without being given much context. “I dunno, it wasn’t that ba–” Buck stops himself when he sees the unimpressed look Eddie sends him. “It was just. One of those passive-aggressive things, I guess. My mom was talking about how Maddie’s made a good life for herself out here. And she said–she said I’m getting there. And she thought I’d never get there. Which I guess was supposed to be a joke. Maybe.”

“You have a life here,” Eddie says assuredly, but it feels like more. “A good one.”

“I know,” Buck says, and he does. “Because you’re in it.” He doesn’t mean to be so forthright so fast, but it comes out anyway.

Eddie’s beautiful face softens around its edges. “Buck.”

Buck doesn’t let him continue. “I think I've had a good one for a while. But I guess all that gets overshadowed when you kiss a guy.”

“Buck,” Eddie says again, gentler.

Buck wonders sometimes. This whole awful summer, he’d look at Eddie, across the room or behind him or by his side on a call, and he’d wonder. This thing his brain has refused to look at directly for so long. The want and the ache. He doesn’t want to be greedy, to take and take and take, because Eddie’s already given him so much. He’s given him everything.

“I said…some things. Worse than last time. I think it might be…over? I mean-that’s a weird way to put it, but. I-I don’t know if we can come back from this.”

“Do you want to?”

And doesn’t that just knock Buck right off his metaphorical feet. Does he want to? What about what he wants? Eddie always asks him what he wants. Does he want to keep running on the hamster wheel of begging for his parents' love and approval, when he already has love in other places? More love than he should ask for?

“No,” Buck whispers. “I don’t.”

The want has gotten too monumental to stand, lately. This awful summer, and what it's done to both of them. Buck has been cultivating it for too long, longer than he initially realized, and now it’s so big that it’s bursting through cracks in the sidewalk and spilling over carefully cut edges. Buck would rather die than lose Eddie’s friendship. But sometimes, sometimes, Eddie looks at him, and he wonders–

“Buck,” Eddie says again, softly, and something slots into place.

Buck reaches out and settles his hand over Eddie’s crossed ones. He’s warm to the touch, hot, almost. Alive.

He wonders when the last time they’ve touched hands like this was. Different from passing tools around on a call, or fingers brushing against a hot mug of coffee. Maybe it was the ladder truck. Buck remembers that white-hot, blinding pain, but he also remembers Eddie’s hands.

Buck has done many crazy things in his life. He’s scaled skyscrapers, he’s hurt himself on purpose, he’s been swept away by the Pacific Ocean. But the craziest thing he’s probably ever done is lean forward across the table until their lips touch.

It’s almost nothing, at first. A question. The edge of the dining table is digging into his abdomen and he can feel a headache coming on, but none of that matters when he feels Eddie reach up to gently cup his cheek and kiss him back.

Nothing conjured up in Buck’s reckless imagination could ever come close to touching Eddie in this way. Buck’s had a million kisses, but none of them have ever felt so consequential. Earth-shattering and final.

Eddie pries open Buck's mouth gently with his tongue, and as Buck gets kissed within an inch of his life, the only thing he can think is, how long?

Buck is the first to break away when he feels like he might suffocate, and his body regrets it immediately. He places a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

But Buck doesn’t feel very sorry at all.

It takes a while for Eddie to respond, seemingly returning to his body, chest heaving. “I kissed you back,” he says measuredly, “And you’re sorry.”

“Not sorry, but.” Buck’s heart bangs its fists against the cage of his ribs, begging to be let out, to bleed all over the floor. “Well, I-I wasn’t completely sure if you would. I just. I was scared. I’ve been…scared.”

Eddie’s voice is barely audible. “Scared of what?”

“Ruining everything.”

How long have they been dancing around this, Buck wonders. Fear creeps up the back of his neck, but also warmth. He wants–he needs Eddie to-

“Nothing ever felt right,” Eddie breathes. Buck watches the delicate dance of his Adam’s apple with his heart in his throat. “Every time I thought I’d maybe found someone. But I thought I was just destined to never feel right. That it was what I deserved. That I was being punished.” His voice drops to a hush again. “I never thought you could be an option. For me.”

Buck never shuts up on a good day, but now he can barely find the words he needs. “Eddie.”

“Buck, Eddie says seriously. “For the longest time, I thought love was just always gonna hurt. It was always gonna be a performance, a…struggle. But with you, I never felt that. I didn’t realize what I fully felt for you, because I was used to it hurting. But it’s easy, with you.”

Buck has no idea what kind of face he’s making, but it must be something close to astonishment, because Eddie smiles at him tenderly, a little sad around the edges. “You don’t have to say anything, I’m not done yet.” He nods to himself. “I've had time. Too much time. Too much to think about who I am and what I want. Not just what I need…but what I want. How I ended up here. Thinking about obligations. Shannon…I loved Shannon a lot. But I didn't love her, in the way I should've. Or thought I should’ve. Not the way I love you.”

Eddie’s eyes waver like he wants to look away, but his gaze remains on Buck, like he couldn’t even move them away if he tried. Buck feels like he can’t breathe, like he won’t ever be able to breathe again now that he knows for certain. How long have they been dancing around this? How much time has Buck wasted?

Eddie takes his hand again, and Buck intertwines their fingers, buzzing out of his skin. “I know I’m not–I’m not completely fixed. But I want to be with you. I’ve always wanted to be with you, even when I didn’t let myself realize it. You’re one of the only things I’m sure of.”

“You,” Buck says, and then his breath catches in his throat, waterline burning. Eddie squeezes his hand tighter. “You don’t have to be fixed. You just have to be you.”

Eddie smiles. “And I am.”

“You are.”

Buck can’t help himself. He leans forward again, and he’s smiling before their lips touch. It’s gentler this time, a promise instead of a question.

“I love you,” Buck says when they part, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. Truly alive for the first time since he died. “My timing is shit, huh.”

“No,” Eddie disagrees. “It’s right on time.”

Buck calls his parents before their flight home 2 mornings later.

“Buck,” Margaret says into the line breathily when she picks up, like the last thing she expected him to do was call.

“Can you get Dad on the line too?”

There’s some shuffling, and then his father’s voice is crackling through the line. “I’m here.”

He’s on speaker. Good.

Margaret speaks up again. “Bu-”

“No,” Buck breathes. “Just listen. I don't want to see you again, or hear from you. Please don't ask about me or call me—not that you ever really did that in the first place. If you visit again, we can be cordial at family gatherings for the sake of everyone else, but I don't want to talk to you outside of that. I dont–I don’t want to hear what you think about my life, or me, because it doesn't matter. Not anymore. I tried like hell to get you to see me, and I’m done trying. This is what it’s come to, okay? I-I love you. But that’s not enough anymore.” Buck exhales. “So I’m letting you go.”

There’s silence on the other end of the line, deathly still and static, like the two ghosts they’ve always been.

A shuddering breath. Margaret. “Evan–”

“I’m sorry,” Buck says, even though he shouldn’t. Sorry that it’s ending this way, at the very least. “I’m so sorry.” And then, just to be vengeful—“And I'm dating a man.”

He hangs up.

Eddie had been watching him from the corner of the bedroom with big, watery eyes, but that makes him bark out a surprised laugh.

“Do you think that last part was necessary?”

“Yes,” Buck says immediately, throat constricting painfully.

“You might be right.” Eddie walks over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, bumping their shoulders together. “How do you feel?” he asks softly.

Buck is definitely going to burst into tears at any moment, but they’re not completely bad tears. More like relief, tinged with grief and change. “Not as bad as I thought I would, I think. I’ll have to process it. I need to have a talk with Maddie. You have a lot of stuff to process, too. I’m just…I’m glad I have you here with me. We’ll do it together. But mostly I’m just like–what now?”

“We’re gonna go get our kid,” Eddie says easily. “And then I’m gonna take you on a date.”

Buck lets the first tear fall, but Eddie is there to brush it away with the pad of his thumb as quickly as it came, kissing gently beneath his eye.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”