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Buck and Eddie don’t fight a lot, but when they do, it’s calamitous. Buck knows this – remembers the lawsuit like it was yesterday – and has done his best to be better, to let himself grow into someone more mature, more deserving of Eddie’s friendship. And yet… and yet, he’s pretty sure this is his fault.
He’s just not sure what he did.
He’d been waiting for Eddie to extend an invitation. Had been hoping, desperately, for Eddie to ask him to come with him to El Paso. They’re a unit, is the thing; they’ve been BuckandEddie since they pulled a grenade out of a patient’s leg together. So, in Buck’s (hopelessly childish) mind, they would do this together too. They would convince Chris to come home as a team.
And now…
“He’s not your priority,” Eddie says, like it’s final. He’s slipping his laptop into his backpack, avoiding Buck’s eyes.
“Of course he is,” Buck says immediately, stung. He can’t understand how they ended up here, arguing in Eddie’s kitchen. The very room he’d been in when he'd thought for the first time, years ago now, that he’d lay down his life for the Diaz boys.
“You don’t talk about him.” Eddie turns his back to him as he says it, but Buck can read the tension in his shoulders well enough.
A bible-length essay slams into Buck’s mind– things he could tell Eddie right now, if he was sure he could explain them.
Buck has tried to talk about Chris, is the thing. But Eddie looks so… stricken – heartbroken – when he does, so he'd decided to be here for Eddie as his best friend, rather than a co-parent. Because he’s not a co-parent, no matter how much he wishes he was.
And, yeah, okay, Buck got a little distracted by the whole Tommy thing. Sue him! It’s not every day you discover you’re bisexual. And it's not like he disappeared, not like he left Eddie, even when he was running on four hours of sleep and a worrying number of granola bars. He always made time for his best friend, so much so that Tommy broke up with Buck because of it. He’ll never regret it, though - would never call anything he's done for Eddie a sacrifice - so pointing any of it out? That would be the equivalent of throwing it back in Eddie’s face.
He's just not sure how to fix this.
“Eddie, he’s…”
Eddie looks up at him, a whisper of resignation already marring his features.
“He’s your son,” Buck says, voice raw with everything he isn’t saying. He’s Eddie’s son, so Buck has no right to feel his absence so acutely— no right to mourn the months he won’t get back with him. Sure, he’s been there for him, cooked for him and driven him to school and loved him with everything he’s got, but he’s not his son. He’s Eddie’s.
Hurt flashes across Eddie’s face before he schools it, lips thinning. “Right,” he says flatly. “He’s my son. He’s my responsibility.”
Buck’s stomach lurches violently. “Eddie, that’s not—“
Fair. True. Right.
Buck doesn’t know what to say. Every word feels like a misstep.
Running a hand over his face, Eddie stands. He’s not looking at Buck. Time passes like molasses, each second taking the colour of the world with it. And then Eddie sighs, throwing everything back into sharp relief. “You should go.”
Buck feels like he’s two feet tall. He feels like a giant. He’s too big and too small for this house– Eddie’s house, where he’s found solace so many times. Where he’s belonged.
Quietly, Buck clears his throat. “I’m driving you to the airport.”
“I’ll take an Uber.”
What the fuck?
We’re not combative with each other, Buck wants to say, wants to yell. Don’t punish me when I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, don’t be— don’t be stubborn about this, come on, Eddie. Please.”
Eddie pauses, sniffing once before nodding curtly. “Fine.”
The drive to the airport is tense. Neither of them exchange a word, and Buck’s too busy reckoning with the fact that his entire world is falling apart to spare Eddie a glance.
And then, just like he did all those years ago, he’s standing in the shade of the airport terminal, preparing himself for another goodbye. This time, he’s even less sure he’ll ever get to say hello again.
Stupid. God, he’s being so stupid. This isn’t about him; it’s about Eddie getting Chris back. Buck was only ever meant to be somebody for Eddie to lean on– and here he is, falling into old habits, selfishly clinging to any piece of warmth ever offered to him.
“This is it,” he hears himself say. The words sound hollow, and he instantly feels bad. He should be trying, at least.
“This is it,” Eddie echoes.
“You want me to come in w–”
“It’s fine,” Eddie says quickly. He smiles, briefly, like he always does when they speak over each other. It’s there, and then it’s gone, and Buck kind of wants to die.
Eddie hesitates before pulling Buck in for a quick half-hug, and Buck barely gets a whiff of his cologne before he’s stepped back again. Tears spring to Buck's eyes like he's a child, and he ducks his head, fighting the urge to turn away completely.
It was never supposed to be like this.
“Soon,” Eddie says, trying to meet Buck’s eyes. Buck doesn’t let him. “I’ll see you soon.”
Buck nods, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Come back, he doesn’t say, even as his heart cries out. Come back come back come back come back.
And then he’s gone.
The flight to El Paso is the most miserable of Eddie’s entire life. Inexplicably, he feels like he’s left Buck in a lurch. He’s annoyed with himself, now that he’s settled.
He’s pretty sure Buck wasn’t implying that he doesn’t love Chris. In fact, he’s pretty sure he just… assumed the worst of him. Which– fuck. The last thing he did before leaving LA, before leaving Buck, was screw up the one unequivocally good thing he wants to return to.
The rest of the flight, he spends staring unseeingly out of the window, wondering what Buck’s doing. Occasionally, his thoughts drift to his parents, but he waves those away. He’ll be seeing them soon anyway. Them, and at long last, Christopher.
In the taxi, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He frowns at the stark lack of notifications from Buck – not even a let me know when you land – but– Buck doesn’t owe him anything. He does have a notification from Chim, a cryptic have you heard from Buck?
Dread pools in Eddie’s gut, despite the vague nature of the text. But… it would make sense for Buck to go to Maddie after dropping Eddie off, he supposes. To lick his wounds or– or just to forget about the whole thing. Chim would’ve been there, would have heard about their fight. Shit, Buck must’ve been really upset if Chim felt the need to reach out to Eddie.
He shoots off a quick haven’t heard from Buck. Tell him I miss him. It feels– inadequate, but he’ll have time to apologize later. With a sigh, he turns off his phone and closes his eyes, bracing himself as the taxi turns onto his parents’ street.
The first thing he thinks upon arriving at his parents’ home is that it looks exactly the same. The second is that he should’ve told them he was coming.
It’s not like they’re hostile, when they open the door to find him standing there, but… he’s not prepared for them to look so disappointed in him.
He has just enough time to spot Chris before they usher him to his room, Eddie’s heart pounding miserably as he watches him leave, the sound of his crutches so familiar it aches.
And then all hell breaks loose.
“Christopher needs two parents,” his mother’s insisting, something like pity swimming in her eyes. It’s been ten minutes since Chris left the room, and Eddie’s feeling it now, that bone-deep weariness he’s been pretending doesn’t exist. “He needs—“
“He has two parents!” Eddie yells, chest heaving. For a moment, a ringing silence fills the air. Then, voice steadier, Eddie says, “He has Buck.”
His father throws his hands into the air. “Edmundo, Buck is not family. He needs a stable home, he needs—“
“You?” Eddie cuts in, eyes flickering between his parents. His phone buzzes in his pocket, signaling a call, but he ignores it. Whatever it is can wait.
Slowly, a hoarse laugh bubbles up. “You know what happens if I die? What happens to Christopher?”
More silence.
“He goes to Buck.”
His heart twists as he says it. With grief, because his relationship with his parents will never be the same— but relief too, because he’s taking a stand. He’s fighting for his kid.
“You have no right…” his mother begins, before covering her mouth with her hands.
“I do,” Eddie tells her, swallowing. It does nothing to hide how thick his voice has gotten. “I’m his father. And Buck is– Buck is family. He’s in my goddamn will, Mom.”
The declaration – unplanned as it was – is enough to stun them all into silence once more. He doesn’t know if he’s done more damage than good, but he’s just… he’s so tired. The fight has gone out of him, and he’s left staring at his parents, the people who raised him, wondering what was so wrong with him. What made him unworthy. It strikes him, suddenly, that this might be how Buck has felt his entire life.
Pressing his fingers to his eyes, Eddie shakes his head. Walks past them toward the patio, because– because this is his home too. He grew up here, and he deserves to be here.
Stepping outside, he sucks in a deep breath. It’s too hot here, too oppressive, but it smells like home.
Rubbing a hand over his face, he slips his hand into his pocket to grab his phone.
1 missed call from Buck.
1 voicemail left by Buck.
For a moment, Eddie misses Buck so much he has to hold his breath and wait for it to pass. When it doesn’t, he reminds himself that it’s been five hours since he saw him last. When that doesn’t work either, he vows to call and apologize to him as soon as he’s listened to the voicemail.
Glancing behind him once, he presses play and raises his phone to his ear.
“H-hey, Eddie. I—“ Buck coughs wetly, and all at once, Eddie’s blood runs cold. “This is kind– kind of awkward. I was really hoping you’d pick up.”
“‘Thena or– or Cap probably already told you, but Maddie… she was taken. Kidnapped. Right out of her home, Eddie.” Buck’s voice shakes as he says it. “I had to– I had to find her, you know?”
No, no, no, no–
“But– shit,” Buck hisses in pain, shuffling around on his end before gasping, unable to bite back a hurt noise. “The– the guy, he found me first. I was blindfolded, but I heard– heard the forest, you know, the birds, and the wind. Could smell the earth, soon as we stopped.” Buck pauses to swallow, breathing laboured. Voice weaker, he continues, “He’s a– a little shorter than me. Blond. Av–average build. White. Just telling you, ‘cause I don’t… I don’t think I’m getting out of here. Wherever I am.”
“I just,” Buck sucks in a breath, biting back what sounds like a sob. “You guys were the best thing that– that ever happened to me. You and Chris. I just need you to know that, okay?” Then, quieter, “Tell Chris I love him. Pl-please.” he coughs around a soft laugh. “And don’t– don’t wear khakis to my funeral, alright? That would be s-such a dick move.” For a moment, Buck breathes raggedly down the line. Eddie’s eyes burn. “Guess I was a little more expendable than we thought, huh? I think–”
The dial tone.
Eddie can’t breathe. Panic wraps itself around his heart and squeezes.
Hands shaking, Eddie presses the redial button. It rings.
No answer.
Eddie thinks he’s going to vomit.
Buck needs him. Buck needs him, and he’s not there. He’s not–
“Athena.” Eddie doesn’t remember re-entering the house, nor calling Athena. Barely recalls pushing past his parents to grab his backpack off the floor; knows whatever else of his is left he can forego. “Tell me you know where— tell me where he is.”
“We’re doing everything we can,” Athena says gravely, which means they have no idea. Eddie’s head spins.
“Please.” He’s pleading, though he’s not sure it’s directed at Athena or God. Shouldering his backpack, he leans against the doorframe, ignoring the radio, the boiling pot on the stove, his parents. “Please tell me you have a lead.”
“Eddie–”
“What’s going on?”
Eddie turns, wide-eyed. Christopher’s standing in the doorway, worry written all over his young face.
“It’s Buck,” Eddie starts, voice faltering. Fuck, he sounds so goddamn panicked and he has no idea how to stop. “He’s— I don’t know, Chris. I don’t know.”
He might be dead, he thinks hysterically. He might be dying right now, and I’m in fucking El Paso.
“He’s hurt?” Chris asks, voice small.
For a second, Eddie considers lying. Considers putting on a smile for his son, the way he’s always tried and failed to do.
“Yeah,” he says instead, hand spasming around his phone. “I have to– I have to go. I’m sorry.”
Christopher squares his shoulders, mouth set. For a moment, it’s like Eddie’s looking in the mirror. “I’m coming with you.”
“Chris…”
“I’m coming with you,” he insists, ignoring Eddie's parents as they rally to protest.
“Okay,” Eddie breathes. “Okay, if you— if you’re sure.”
Chris readjusts his crutches, looking Eddie dead in the eye. “It’s Buck.”
Buck’s not sure how long he’s out. The cabin he’d been left to bleed out in is cold, muggy in a way that suggests it’s getting dark outside. Or maybe the sun is rising? He has no idea.
Kidnapped, he thinks darkly, staring at the ceiling. I’ve been fucking kidnapped.
He wishes the day he’d had would come to him in fragments, rather than all at once. Wishes he could forget for a moment how he’d driven here, into the middle of goddamn nowhere, because some faceless serial killer (seriously, what is his life? How much bad karma has he accrued over the last couple years?) called him and told him to do it. And of course he did it, because Maddie’s involved. If he could save her, barter for her life, exchange his life for hers, he’d do it, every time.
Except– well. He didn’t see the whole ‘getting abducted himself’ thing coming. Kind of embarrassing. And– God, he’d called Eddie like he was on his deathbed. Which he is, he guesses, but still. Now Eddie’s gonna wander through life with the shittiest excuse for a goodbye from his best friend on his voicemail.
It would be a tiny bit funny, if the circumstances were different. Just, like– it’s impressive, that someone managed to take Buck. He’s big. Muscle-y. Tall. Fast. But, he supposes, no one can outrun a gun.
For a long moment, he does nothing. He’s been shot alright, right through the middle, and he doesn’t think his chances are all that great. Moving would… definitely not help. But— he should already be dead. Should already have succumbed to his wounds. This? Waking up alive, against all odds? It’s a chance. A blessing. He’s not wasting it.
Wheezing, Buck pushes himself up. The world spins around him, but he grits his teeth against the searing pain and moves.
He’s gasping, when he finally stands. Bleeding sluggishly, but not as much as he should be. He decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth and get a move on.
His phone, still miraculously in his pocket, is super dead.
“M-Maddie?” he calls out. It doesn’t really matter if the killer hears him; he’ll be dead soon anyway.
Keeping a hand on his wound, Buck limps from room to room. It’s not a very big cabin, not a lot of places to stash a person, but he can’t give up.
He can’t give up, until his body decides to do it for him.
He collapses by the door, body trembling with the adrenaline coursing through him, with the blood currently pumping its way out of his body, heartbeat by heartbeat.
Time doesn’t feel entirely real, for a little while. Buck falls in and out of consciousness, head swimming, stomach lurching. Through it all, he keeps hoping. For a miracle, for Maddie, for Eddie. God, he wants Eddie here.
This might be it, he realises, with a sort of distant, achy resignation. His mind wanders to Christopher, and he misses him so violently for a moment he can’t breathe. He hopes Eddie got through to him. Hopes they’re on their way back to LA, back to the 118. Hopes they’ll remember him, maybe talk about him sometimes. Enough to acknowledge he made even the smallest of differences.
He kind of just wants to be remembered.
He’d wanted Eddie to know that he could do anything, say anything, ask for anything, and Buck would not leave. That what they had was the closest thing to devotion Buck’s ever known. And he knows Eddie had to go, had to be the one to leave, but he still hopes Eddie knows that– that Buck would have come with him in a heartbeat, if he’d asked.
For the first time in his life, he ducks his head, and prays.
Please take care of him, he thinks nonsensically, head too heavy to lift. And let Maddie be okay. Please let her be okay.
Sirens.
Sirens?
Buck must really be dying, if he’s imagining–
Lights. Voices. And then–
The door bangs open.
Someone’s found him.
He tries to sit up, but the pain seizes him, and he falls back with a hoarse sob.
“Buck.”
Someone falls to their knees beside him, hands scrabbling for his numb face. The hands tilt his head up, before one disappears to press something against the wound on his stomach. With great effort, he blinks his eyes open, and finds Eddie’s wide, kind eyes staring right back at him.
He doesn’t feel relief, like he expected. Instead, he feels a deep sort of contentment settle over him, like a soft, worn blanket. He’s exactly where he’s supposed to be, with exactly the right person.
He mouths Eddie’s name, but no sound comes out. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t know how Eddie could be here and in El Paso at the same time, but it doesn’t matter. He’s so tired, and Eddie is here.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Eddie breathes, echoing his thoughts. His free hand shakes as it flits over him.
“Mad– Maddie?”
“We found her,” Eddie promises. “She’s okay.”
Relief washes through Buck, so suddenly it nearly overpowers the pain. His shoulders drop and his stomach swoops, head going blissfully quiet, even as his vision grows spotty.
“Love you,” he says quietly, because he needs to have it said.
“I love you,” Eddie chokes out, voice thick as he grips the back of Buck’s neck. “I love you back, and you’re not dying on me, okay?”
Buck’s lips twitch up. “Okay,” he agrees. He has time to think Eddie's cologne might be his favourite thing in the whole world before his consciousness slips from his grasp.
Buck wakes beneath a heavy blanket. Or, it feels like a heavy blanket, but upon opening his eyes, he finds it’s a thin sheet.
Hospital, he registers distantly. And then, ugh.
For a long moment, he fumbles for an explanation. He’s so sick of hospitals. Sick of always ending up here. But then he looks to his left, and his heart tries to break through his ribs and, like, wail.
“Eddie,” he croaks, and Eddie – beautiful, kind Eddie – startles awake.
He’s moving before Buck even thinks to ask, grabbing Buck’s hand and squeezing it tight. Instantly, the past week comes back to Buck.
Maddie. Chris. El Paso.
Eddie’s face does something complicated, and Buck squeezes his eyes shut.
“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Eddie says, fingers spasming around Buck’s.
Buck barks a laugh, and the next moment, it morphs into a sob.
Carefully – so, so carefully – Eddie folds himself over Buck in an imitation of a hug– the best he can do while still avoiding Buck’s bandaged wound. It feels so good having him close, sharing his warmth.
“What–” Buck gasps, clinging weakly to him, “Maddie? Is she– is she okay?”
“She was looking for you.” Eddie strokes a shaky hand over Buck’s hair. “I don’t– I only talked to her for a little bit, but she escaped, and she knew you were out there somewhere. She didn’t leave until we found you too.”
Buck says nothing. Can’t, even as Eddie pulls back and drags the chair over, never letting go of his hand.
Buck and Maddie have always orbited each other, the two of them tied together by more than familial duty. When he was a kid, Maddie used to tell him there was an invisible string tying them together, that their very hearts were attached. The string meant that they were never truly apart. Childishly, Buck had held onto that belief well into adulthood, laying awake at night wondering if she had held onto it too. If he was good enough yet to deserve that kind of consideration.
How many times had he left a place he’d hoped he could turn into a home feeling empty? How often had he gone to bed hungry, craving something he didn’t have a name for?
But this life – his life – isn’t just about survival anymore. He fights to stay alive because he was a home to return to. People to return to. People who don’t just need him, but want him around.
“She’s a fighter,” Eddie says, after some time. “Just like you.”
“Yeah,” Buck says, voice hoarse. “Guess it runs in the family.”
Neither of them look away from the other. There’s something raw on Eddie’s face, something that reminds Buck of the cabin, of the moment he’d told Eddie he loved him. Of the moment he’d said it back.
He opens his mouth to– ask, beg, pray for a repeat. To get to hear it again. Only–
A knock at the door startles them both, and Buck looks up in time to see Bobby’s face soften with relief upon seeing him awake.
“Pops,” Buck manages, too tired to be embarrassed.
“Hey, kid,” Bobby says, gripping the door like he needs it for support. “Glad to see you up.”
Buck ducks his head, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
“There, uh,” Eddie says, clearing his throat, “There’s someone here to see you, if you’re up for it.”
Breath shuddering out of him, Buck nods. He smiles when Eddie ducks his head to catch his eye. “Who is it?”
“Just a second,” Bobby says, waving at someone in the hallway.
Buck frowns, confused, before he hears the familiar sound of crutches clacking against the linoleum floor.
“You–” Buck turns wide eyes to Eddie, heart stumbling. “You– he–?”
Eddie’s mouth twists the way it always does when he’s trying not to cry.
And then, Christopher appears in the doorway.
“Chris?”
Christopher’s face screws up as he walks right up to Buck and launches himself at him, shoulders hitching as he sobs.
“Chris.” Buck wraps his arms around him and buries his face in Chris’ hair, relief and grief washing over him in waves. He tries to keep it together, grappling for control. Still, his voice wobbles as he says, “I missed you, kid.”
“I m–missed you too, Buck,” Chris manages, squeezing him harder. It’s kind of hard to breathe, but Buck doesn’t care. Not as he watches Eddie lay a steady hand on Chris’ back, eyes bright for the first time in months as they find Buck’s.
“I love you,” Chris mumbles into Buck’s shoulder, and a fresh wave of tears fill Buck’s eyes. This time, he lets them fall.
“I love you too, kid.” Buck’s voice cracks around the words, and he sucks in a fortifying breath.
He's alive. Maddie's alive. For now, he can live in the moment.
Six days later, Eddie brings Buck back home.
Eddie helps Buck inside, Chris at his heels, and lets himself fuss as much as he’d wanted to at the hospital. Buck doesn’t complain once, like he knows Eddie needs this, needs to be near him, to confirm again and again that he’s here and alive. It’s not long before he dozes off on the couch anyway, Chris tucked protectively under his arm.
They have dinner together, all three of them, and something inside of him – something that’s been poised and ready to shatter for months – finally relaxes. Chris regales Buck with the tale of how they came to his rescue, both of them taking a last-minute LA-bound flight upon news of Buck’s disappearance. It was Athena, in the end, who figured the serial killer out. (Buck gulps at the mention of her name, probably recalling the earful he got from her on his second day at the hospital).
It’s a struggle and a half to put Chris to bed, loathe to be torn from Buck’s side, and it’s only once Buck settles beside Chris in bed with a book – Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief – that his eyelids start to droop. Eddie watches from the doorway, so fond it almost hurts.
He just– can’t quite believe Buck. Here he is, fresh out of the hospital, healing from a gunshot wound, and he’s still taking the time to read to Chris, just to soothe him.
Buck dog-ears the book when Christopher's breathing grows heavier, tucked underneath the blankets. Buck sets the book down on the bedside table, kissing his fingers before pressing them on Chris’ forehead. When he looks up at Eddie, tired but smiling, Eddie can’t help but smile back. He approaches quietly to kiss the crown of Chris’ head also, before taking Buck’s hand, mindful of his wound as he pulls him to his feet. Buck only winces a little, so he takes it as a win.
They make it to the doorway before Buck turns around again, just looking. His eyes go glassy as he watches Chris’ chest rise and fall, making them look even bluer than usual. Eddie kind of wants to wrap his arms around him and cry.
How could he have overlooked this? How could he have ventured to El Paso alone? Of course Chris belongs with Buck. He’s been right here at Eddie’s side for years.
His boy. Their boy.
Eventually, he tugs Buck from the doorway, leaving Chris’ door a little open as he steps back.
“Is… is he staying?” Buck asks in a whisper, trepidation setting his shoulders straight, eyes still on Christopher's door.
“For now,” Eddie replies, itching to smooth the furrow in Buck’s brow. It’s the best he can offer, without making promises he can’t keep. “I’m not–” he sighs shakily, eyes tracking nervously around the hallway before they settle on Buck. “I’m not gonna force the door open. I don’t want to be– I don’t want to turn into my father. I want him to want to stay, I want to do that for him. And I want to do this together. As– as his parents.”
For a long moment, Buck says nothing. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. Then, breath shuddering out of him, he blinks quickly.
“Yeah?” The hope lighting Buck’s eyes up makes Eddie’s chest ache. He longs for him, he realises. Even when Buck’s right in front of him, Eddie longs for him.
“Yeah, Buck.” It’s ripped from him, something rough and not quite ready to be released, filled with the love he holds in every ounce of his body for this beautiful, impossible man. He grasps at Buck’s arm, unsteady, unmoored. “You have to know– you have to know I’ve always thought that, right?”
Buck swallows, throat bobbing. “I don’t know,” he says. “I– I never wanted to– overstep.”
“You couldn’t,” Eddie says, wanting to quell the anxiety within Buck immediately. Hesitantly, steps closer still. Buck watches him with wide eyes. “Chris is your kid too.”
“Eddie,” Buck says, like a prayer.
“He’s your kid,” Eddie says again, because it bears repeating. “And I’m your partner.”
A short, hoarse laugh escapes Buck, his hand shooting up to swipe at his eyes. “I– that’s– Eddie–”
Eddie’s tackled then, Buck folding himself around him like he could protect Eddie from the world. Eddie’s hands fall from Buck’s shoulders to hug him close almost instinctively.
“You’re kind of all I need,” Buck says, clearly injecting as much levity into the words as he can. It still feels confessional, somehow.
“You’re kind of all I want,” Eddie whispers back. Buck shivers against him, and Eddie can picture his eyebrows knotting together where he is, buried between the juncture of Eddie’s shoulder and neck.
It’s as easy as breathing to finally say, “I love you.”
Buck tenses for all of a second before he pulls back, face doing its best not to crumple as he holds Eddie gently.
“I love you too.” Buck’s voice comes out wobbly, but more certain than Eddie’s ever heard before. Like Buck knows what he’s saying is fact. Like he’s proven it. (And he has. Again and again.)
If telling Buck he loves him is as easy as breathing, leaning in to capture his mouth in a kiss is like stepping off a building, only to discover you can fly.