no llega el olvido (y por más que intento, mi mente no te olvida)
Originally posted on 2022-08-10 on AO3
BUCK
If Buck is honest with himself, it started before the day of the shooting. It had been looming in his periphery for so long that he is sure one day he would’ve slipped up and casually kissed Eddie’s cheek goodbye and Eddie would not even comment on it. Which is mildly infuriating, because, really, Buck? Crushing on the straight best friend? Again? He might as well get a tattoo in big black letters that reads DUMB OF ASS, because A: this is not high school, and most importantly, B: this is Eddie . A crush doesn’t do it justice.
But he becomes acutely acquainted with it the moment Eddie’s blood hits his lips and the entire world narrows down to just the two of them, frozen for a second too long. The next thing he becomes aware of is that he’s being pushed to the ground and Eddie is down.
Eddie is down and his hand is perhaps reaching towards Buck and Buck knows that he can’t lose this. He can’t lose Eddie. He can’t go back to Chris without Eddie.
Hot tears threaten to spill down his eyes as he frantically crawls towards Eddie and, for a brief moment, he’s aware that they shouldn’t have been there in the first place, they should’ve been rescuing some influencers from their new life-threatening challenge, not here, not now.
The second his hand reaches Eddie, Buck takes a breath as he pulls. Eddie’s screaming rings in his ears, his pulse racing as he drags Eddie to the truck, sets him down, and begs him to please stay awake.
There’s yelling and fire and the truck’s speeding but all Buck can focus on is that there’s blood everywhere and the bandage doesn’t stop it when he presses down, it flows from Eddie’s chest and stains his hands that can’t stop shaking. He hasn’t shaken this badly on a call for years. They were not on a call though. Wrong place, wrong time.
“Are you hurt?” Eddie asks.
My life is bleeding through my fingers , he wants to say.
“We’re almost there, Eddie,” he says instead.
When he stands in front of the hospital doors, shaken to his core, Mehta asking if he’s okay, Buck knows one thing: if Eddie dies now, a part of Buck will die with him.
Eddie doesn’t die, but Buck becomes intimately familiar with his new reality in which he’s irrevocably in love with his best friend. (Eddie, his best friend who put Buck as the guardian of his son in his will, but that’s something to unpack after Eddie recovers, after things go back to normal).
Things will probably never go back to normal.
He’s in the Diaz household day and night. He basically sleeps there for the first month after Eddie’s been shot. Because Eddie is stubbornly proud, he doesn’t ask for help, but Buck knows instinctively that Eddie can’t stand the idea of burdening Tía Pepa and his Abuela every day, so he stays even when he doesn’t ask. There’s always something to do around the house: Chris’ homework, Eddie’s PT, Chris’ therapy and Buck’s therapy, and hopefully soon, Eddie’s as well; even if for the moment, he seems more intent on recovering the range of motion in his arm so he doesn’t have to ask for help when getting dressed. Not that Buck minds helping him, but it sometimes feels like cheating, looking at Eddie for too long. He has a girlfriend now, a girlfriend who deserves respect and who deserves Buck’s reciprocation. So Buck packs his feelings away and stays with the Diazes day and night, because someone needs to look after them.
Ana never stays, but she always drops by with food. Sometimes she stays for a while to eat with Eddie, but Eddie doesn’t eat much. When Buck asked him about it, he brushed it off with a simple “your food is enough. I don’t know where she got the idea I needed another cook.”
Buck smiled at him, warm affection flowing through him, but he didn’t have time to linger in it as he left to pick up Chris from school. If traffic was on his side, they’d stop for donuts and give Eddie a treat. He deserved it.
When Buck opens the door, Christopher and a box of donuts in tow, Tía Pepa is sitting next to Eddie, both watching the TV, where two women are having an argument in Spanish.
“Dad!” Christopher is quick to abandon his crutches and make his way to the couch. “Is that a new episode?”
“No, mijo, estamos viendo otra cosa con tu tía Pepa,” Eddie half turned to Chris but he was clearly still paying attention to the TV, because a second later he mumbles, “she wouldn’t.”
“Se parece a Vico de Rebelde.” Christopher leans on the couch and squints at the TV. Eddie’s hand immediately finds his head, running his fingers through Chris’ curls in a soothing gesture. “What happened to Amigas y Rivales?”
“Nothing happened. Your tía just wanted to watch something else.”
Tía Pepa for her part, stands up, walks to Chris and gives him a kiss on the top of his head before coming to stand in front of Buck. “Are you eating well, Buck?”
Maddie’s earlier phone call went along the same lines.
“Yes, Pepa, I am.” She puts a soft hand on his left cheek and Buck should probably feel embarrassed at how he leans into her motherly touch. “I’m taking care of them.”
“Well, take care of yourself too.” With a final pat, she leaves in the direction of the kitchen, Buck following.
“What were you watching?”
“Ah, la Teresa began a little before Eddie enlisted. He will say he didn’t, but he watched it. Shannon found it hilarious but she too got sucked in. Eddie left for Afghanistan and never got to see the second half. A friend of mine had it on DVD, so here we are.”
“Is that what he’s been watching every day?”
“I don’t know. But sometimes when I come over, we watch a little. He needs to practice his Spanish anyway.”
Buck smiles fondly as he moves around the kitchen, seamlessly recollecting plates, napkins and cups along the way. “¿Usted queda a comer, Pepa?”
His accent is horrible, his grammar probably worse, but he didn’t spend a summer in Peru only partying. Most people preferred to get English practice with him, but he did learn a bit. He was under the impression Eddie forgot about it, but Tía Pepa would sometimes indulge him and let him practice with her. She laughs sometimes telling him that a word he learnt in Peru meant something else entirely here.
Later, after the donuts disappeared and the Diazes were fed real meals, Buck walks Pepa to the door and lets her hug him for a second. When she pulls away, she says, “Buck, eres un santo. Eddie and Chris are lucky to have you.”
Buck falls asleep on the Diaz couch, turning those words inside his head like a Rubik’s cube, but no matter which way they turn, there was always something that didn’t fit.
Six weeks after the shooting he returned from his first 24-hour shift since the sniper, Carla was picking up Chris for school. Bobby let him pull half shifts as long as possible, but at some point he had to go back to the regular roster.
“Breakfast is ready. There are some pancakes in a covered pan.” Carla squeezes his bicep as she leaves, walking ahead of Chris.
Buck leans down to Christopher’s eye level. Buck is tall, but he still notices that everyday he has to lean down a little less to look at Christopher’s face and his chest tightens. Right now, he looks sullen, every bit the teenager he will be in a year or so. “Hey, buddy. Are you okay?”
“I missed you last night. Dad fell asleep early and Ana doesn’t read like you do.” Chris’ mouth is set in a pout.
“I missed you too, Superman. But you’ll see me tonight. I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner.” That gets him a smile from Chris.
“Anything?” Chris’ mischievous tone makes him see his mistake immediately.
“Within reason,” he quickly adds.
“The lasagna you made last Saturday?”
Buck holds his pinky finger out to Chris, “pinky promise.”
Chris readily hooks his own finger with Buck’s and then hugs him tightly. Buck takes comfort in Chris’ better mood and hugs him back. When Chris pulls away, he says, “you better help Dad. He’s been singing old people music the entire morning.”
Buck laughs and stands from his crouch. “Well, we can’t let that happen, right?”
Chris’ response is just a dead-set nod as he readjusts his crutches.
“Ready, Chris?” calls Carla from the door.
“Coming!” He gives Buck a last stern nod and leaves after Carla.
Now that Buck is paying attention, he notices there’s music coming from the kitchen, Eddie singing along off-key. As he enters the room, he’s suddenly aware that this is not the first time he gets back from the station and Eddie is up. He’s improved a lot. His presence in the Diaz household doesn’t make sense anymore.
Buck’s wondering if Eddie is about to kick him out before he fully pays attention to the sight that greets him in the kitchen: Eddie in nothing but sweatpants and messy bed hair, singing passionately to a song in the background. He’s giving his best performance to the frying pan where he’s making eggs. He bursts out laughing when the song swells up and the chorus comes in.
“What’s so funny?” asks Buck with a soft smile.
Eddie, still laughing, reaches for his phone and lowers the volume. “It’s just,”—he wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, his face illuminated by the kitchen window and Buck’s heart skips a beat— “the irony of this song. The universe doesn’t scream but it thinks it’s very funny.”
Buck cocks his head to the side trying to make sense of the voice amongst the electric guitars and drums. He frowns without understanding until the last refrain. “a shot through the heart? Gunshot?”
“Sort of. I guess. It’s not the same in English. Never mind.” His smile dulls a little.
Buck can’t take it, that beautiful, private smile, one of the few he’s seen without Chris around, so he says, “I know Spanish.” At Eddie’s raised eyebrow, he adds. “I know some Spanish.”
“You gotta know something because Tía Pepa vouches for you when my parents are around. She uses the ‘he’s a perfectly educated young man, he even speaks Spanish’.”
Buck decides that unpacking that would mean unpacking the will and that would mean unpacking his definitely-not-platonic feelings, and that would lead to unpacking his relationship with Taylor.
Instead of going down that route, he says, “do you need help with that?”
“I can manage eggs, Buck.”
He turns back around, turning the volume up a notch. He sings the song that follows in a low mumble. Buck knows this one, he’s heard it because Eddie plays one of her albums every once in a while, and he imagines for a moment, however small, that Eddie is not thinking about Ana as the sweetest moment in his life.
EDDIE
Ana leaves and Eddie starts on the clean-up duty. Chris is playing his video game, as if this is the last time he gets to play —many days without electricity or his computer will do that to him— so Eddie plays music from his phone. He forgoes the usual playlists and opens the radio app to the station his Abuela used to play when she visited when Eddie was growing up. He remembers thinking the music was cheesy and overly dramatic, but now, as Vicente Fernandez sings in the background, he realizes that yes, he wants to forget the past and what people say, because what matters is that he’s not in love with Ana, he never was.
That, however, opens up another can of worms he’s not ready to examine yet.
There are bowls and pots everywhere, so he loads the dishwasher and gets started with the rest by hand, mumbling lyrics he relates too much to, when he hears the door open.
“Eddie?”
If God’s out there, he’s got a real fucked up sense of humor.
“In the kitchen,” he calls, and a few moments later he hears Buck gently knocking on Chris’ door,
After two knocks, Buck opens Christopher’s door, where he’s immediately received with a bright Buck! and a quick catch-up on all he did during the blackout. They lower their voices and Eddie can’t be bothered to listen in, but he’s sure plans are being made as Eddie has a minor identity crisis washing the dishes.
He knows, without knowing how he knows, the moment Buck leans on the frame of the door. Eddie expects teasing at the mess, at Eddie washing by hand, at the lyrics in Spanish that suggest a little too much. So what if Eddie’s skin melts the moment Buck touches him? It’s not special. He’s felt like that before. Well, he felt it briefly with a classmate he made out with in high school and then he only ever felt it with Shannon. He thought that after Shannon, it was decided, she was it , the answer he was looking for laid in front of him: he was straight and then Shannon was pregnant and he was engaged and a dad and a military medic.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were dying to crash at your place?” He doesn’t turn around, because he knows Buck is leaning against the kitchen door as he’s bound to do when he wants to make Eddie aware of every single one of his nerve endings. How does Buck do it? How come Ana never gave him this feeling of static between them that seemed to crackle in his ears? Eddie wonders if Buck can feel this electricity between them – but it might be just Eddie. He has no clue if his friend feels something towards him. For all intents and purposes, Buck has a girlfriend and he’s off limits.
“Couldn’t sleep. Too much noise. It’s like everyone agreed to be their loudest versions of themselves once the blackout was over.” There’s something in Buck’s tone that makes Eddie pause, leaving the wet sponge on top of a pot that will definitely need more scrubbing.
When he looks at Buck, leaning on the door frame just like Eddie knew he would be, there’s a slump to his shoulders he didn’t expect, his face set in a deep frown and eyes red-rimmed, and Eddie immediately worries.
“What is it? What happened?”
“It’s Maddie, she–“
“Buck, what is it? Is Maddie okay? Jee-yun?”
Buck doesn’t get another word out before a sob escapes him. Without thinking twice about it, Eddie makes it to his side in three long strides, his arms open, ready to catch Buck if he so desires. And Buck? Buck crumbles and crashes into Eddie, letting Eddie take on his full weight.
For once, Eddie’s mind doesn’t run away when it comes to Buck. Most of the time, he’s painfully aware of his friend in a way that’s definitely not friendly, it’s Something More, capital letters and all. But Buck is family and whatever is hurting Buck hurts him as well.
Buck cries like Eddie has never seen him cry before, grabbing a fistful of Eddie’s shirt, holding onto him with a ferocity that worries him. Like a leaf in November, Buck trembles as if he’ll fly away at the first strong gust of wind. Eddie doesn’t do anything more than hug him back, hold him up, and stroke his back in a soothing way that reminds him of how his Abuela soothed him when his dad punished him for ruining the truck.
It goes on long enough that Eddie’s shoulder, where Buck has buried his face, feels hot and a little painful, but before he can say anything, Buck’s sobs subside slowly and he pulls himself together piece by piece until he’s no longer holding on for dear life. Eddie lets the hand on Buck’s back fall to the side and gently nudges him to look at him.
Buck ducks his face and wipes his face with the back of his hand.
“I’m sorry, Eddie. I’m–“
“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, trying to find Buck’s eyes to no avail. “Tell me what happened.”
“Chim called. Maddie’s gone. He- he thought she left Jee at the station to go to the hospital or something, but when he went back to the apartment he found some of her things gone. Not much but–“
“What happened to Jee?”
“Nothing, she’s fine. She’s with the Lees while Chim asks around a couple of ERs. I should be with him. I told him I’d go to the Presbyterian ER and meet him there. I just. I can’t do it, Eds, what if something happened to her?”
Eddie’s heart hurts at that. Not in a panic attack way, but certainly not only in a friend-worried-about-a-friend way. Eddie would give everything to never see Buck hurt like this again.
“Look, Buck, I– Well, actually I don’t know because I don’t know her like you do, but have you considered she’s looking for the help she needs right now?”
Buck attempts a smile at that. “Yeah, I- I’ve been calling her. It goes directly to voicemail now, and I’m sure she’s not avoiding me but it’s hard not to think that she left again. She left me again. She left Jee , for fuck’s sake.”
Eddie is not one to talk about leaving, but he can see why Buck is so fixated on this. He’s been in his place more than once. He can’t do anything about it, except maybe give Buck something else to think about.
“Wanna help me with the dishes? There’s a mountain of them. We can order something to eat later.”
Buck hides a small smile looking down but he follows Eddie to the sink.
“What happened to the dishwasher?”
“It’s full, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Buck repeats, this time with a real smile that shoots sparks down Eddie’s spine.
They work in silence, the only sound coming from Eddie’s phone, the familiar music from old evenings with his Abuela in the background. It feels right in a way working side by side with Ana never felt. Buck is so comfortable here, it’s like he’s been a part of the household since forever. Eddie almost wishes he was back to the weeks after he was shot, when Buck would wake him up with breakfast ready, then help him to the shower at the same time as he juggled Chris’ things before Carla picked him up for school.
He doesn’t miss the pain in his shoulder, nor does he miss the week his parents insisted on visiting. He misses his sisters but not the way they fluttered around him like he was dying. He misses having time to catch up on Teresa , but most importantly, he misses having Buck around all the time.
Once they’re done, not even a minute after Eddie suggests finding a place open that delivers, Buck gets a message.
“Hey, Eddie, can I get a raincheck on the food? Taylor says she’s finally going home and we can get lunch before she crashes.”
Something ugly twists inside of Eddie. He wants to deny it’s jealousy, but who would he be fooling? Frank would just give him a look. Sophia would also give him a look but she’d chew on it, saying it was visible in the twitch of his chin, the tightening of his jaw and the pining look in his eyes.
They don’t know what they’re talking about.
Eddie has no reason to be jealous in the first place.
He thinks he’s taken too long to reply when Buck calls his name.
“Yeah, sure. You’re still coming on Saturday after the shift? We can eat something before taking Chris to the park.”
“Fine by me. It’s a date.” Buck’s eyes open wide for a fraction of a second, but then his posture relaxes. Eddie wonders what that’s about and decides to prod with a stick.
“If I was taking you out, Chris wouldn’t come along.” Eddie’s not sure where that comes from. It feels charged inside his kitchen in a way that hasn’t been since the hospital. They have to talk about it. Buck, for his part, looks at him with a challenge and a half-smile. “I can do a romantic dinner and a walk home. And it’d be so fun that neither of us would wait three days to message.”
They’re standing a full 3 ft apart and Eddie still feels the pull to get closer, to reach out, to ask is this allowed? and take his time tracing every single bump of Buck’s face with his fingertips, stopping short of those full lips and–
Buck’s phone vibrates once more and the moment is broken. Buck glances at his phone and reiterates his goodbyes, then lingers in Chris’ room for a minute before disappearing.
Once he’s alone again, he goes to YouTube and types Pimpinela full album and plays the first result. He can’t touch these feelings without metaphorical musical gloves, but he can drown them by indulging a little.
After the hostage situation, things only get more complicated. He remembers Buck’s panicked cries as he ran out of the hospital and he wonders if that’s what Hen meant when she said “ he was digging with his bare hands, Eddie .”
Instead of talking about it, he shoves it in a little box until Chris has a breakdown over the perfect Christmas. Then, transferring made perfect sense, but now, as another day at Dispatch ends, he’s exhausted and he hasn’t even done anything. Therapy after work might not be such a good idea perhaps.
So what if the night Buck and Taylor came over he was not the best host? Eddie still cooked and smiled politely and nodded at the right times. There was no reason for Buck to worry about him. He's fine.
Eddie is definitely fine.
Until he isn’t.
Late at night, after a bunch of well-placed calls told him his entire former team was dead, after he took a baseball bat to everything he owns, after he cried himself hoarse, yelling at the walls, begging the universe to stop and Buck shows up, he can finally admit he isn’t okay.
And for some unknown reason, Buck’s still there.
Buck lets Eddie cry, let it out of his system, and then he helps with the cleanup. Because Buck’s the guy who likes to fix things, and he sees something in Eddie that makes him stay even when Eddie’s at his worst. Not even he wants to be alone with himself, but Buck does.
While they clean, Buck asks Eddie if he wants to listen to music. Eddie doesn’t want to bother Christopher sleeping, but he knows that if he doesn’t fill the silence with something else, he’ll tell Buck to stay. Please stay, for as long as you want .
Music doesn’t help when Buck plays an album in Spanish that he’s become familiar with thanks to Chris.
“ How do you know this?” Eddie asks, incredulity sipping into his tone. He’s sure Buck went on a wikipedia hunt after the last time he teased Eddie about watching telenovelas.
“You son has good taste,” Buck shrugs before adding, “besides, I told you. I know some Spanish.”
Eddie realizes that some is enough to sing along to some of the songs and listening to Buck say un poco de tu amor me puede hacer feliz blows a fuse in his brain. He wishes there was a way to tell Buck just that, but Eddie spends the rest of the album picking up pieces of an alarm clock without opening his mouth.
When the last song starts and Eddie finds himself singing along in the lowest possible volume, he realizes the universe does scream sometimes.
BUCK
“Karen wants to take tango lessons,”—she’s eyeing Bobby’s parmigiana trying to decide where to get the best bite of everything— “at this place she found online? There’s a Tango Queer LA, apparently.”
“Yeah, they meet in West LA sometimes,” says Lucy, rushing to take a seat in front of Buck.
Ravi slides next to him but talks in Lucy’s direction. “I’ve never seen you in the queer dance club.”
“What were you doing there in the first place?” asks Hen, a smirk on her face.
“Taking lessons, flirting with That One Hot Argentinian Instructor?” Ravi immediately digs into the casserole and serves a huge chuck of parmigiana. Buck’s not even sure what’s happening right now.
Hen arches an eyebrow and makes a quiet hum, as if this fits with her predictions.
“Jeremi still works there?” Buck reaches for Bobby's dish, but freezes halfway when he notices everyone looking at him.
“Buck 1.0,” he offers as an explanation. Hen and Cap nod in understanding, but Ravi and Lucy continue to look at him with wide eyes and the air of a smirk, as if something finally clicked for them. Maybe Buck’s persistent crush on his best friend became evident in retrospect. Hopefully, seeing him dance with his girlfriend he’s in love with will clarify for his family that Taylor is here to stay.
“Never mind Buck. Do you, people who haven’t slept with the instructor, want to come to a masterclass on Saturday?”
“If not having slept with Jeremi is a condition,” Lucy leans back on her chair, a fake innocent grin on her face, “I’m afraid I have to pass.”
Ravi groans and throws his head back. “You’re all so weird.”
They agree to go, even those who’ve slept with one of the instructors, since the class will be taught by some Russian experts and Buck says he’ll bring Taylor. No one mentions anything, but some looks are exchanged between Hen and Cap.
“Well, if you guys want to, Denny can stay with me. Athena works a 24 and Harry will be home. He’ll appreciate having someone around.”
“Thanks, Bobby.”
Buck wants to know what those looks were about, but before he can say anything, the bell rings —he didn’t even get to start on his parmigiana this time!— and Buck's out of the seat in a second. With his right hand, he grabs a handful of his serving, with the left hand he grabs a few napkins, and he goes down the stairs shoving his mouth full of cheese and eggplant.
They’re cleaning up after dinner that night when Buck brings the subject up. He’s been dreading the moment he needs to answer why he won’t be able to help Tía Pepa re-pot her plants on Saturday like he promised, because then he has to tell Eddie that he’s made plans. He’s made plans that will potentially involve Eddie himself. He’s dying to invite Eddie, even if Taylor will go —she promised she’d go. He wants to see Eddie out of the house more often, maybe take a page out of Karen’s book and have him do something wildly different, give him extraordinary night after extraordinary night.
But those are not exactly Best Friend Thoughts. He thought dating Taylor would help. Buck likes Taylor and he knows it, and he thinks that one day what she provides will be good enough for him to live with. Ever since Ana left the picture, however, it’s getting more and more difficult to remember why he’s dating Taylor in the first place.
“Hey, so Karen roped Hen into tango lessons, who in turn roped us by dropping it on us during lunch, and then Cap enabled her by saying that he’d love to have a night in and take Denny.” He’s rambling, he knows it, but he doesn’t know how not to say: I want you to come in the hopes I get to dance with you at least once . “Hey, maybe Chris could stay with them and—”
“Okay,” says Eddie, surprising Buck enough to stop talking.
“Okay?” Eddie doesn’t twitch. “It’s at the Queer Tango club,” Buck feels the need to clarify.
“Yeah, I told Karen about it.” Eddie continues packing leftovers into smaller Bento boxes for Chris’ lunch the next day as if he’s not just dropped a bomb right inside of Buck’s mind.
“You.” Buck’s brain takes a second to process that. The words Eddie and queer tango don’t seem to click in the same universe. “You told Karen about it?”
“Karen came to drop off Denny before their last night out. She mentioned they were going to this restaurant she didn’t even want to go to, but she heard it was ‘An Experience’, so I mentioned the club. At least they’ll get a performance from good instructors even if they don’t learn anything.” He looks up at Buck then. “It’s fun, you should try it.”
Still chewing on Eddie’s words, Buck —doesn’t ask precisely— he states, “and you just happened to know about it.”
“Shannon and I used to dance back in Texas. She wanted to be a dancer but her parents sort of forced her into community college and then–.” Eddie looks up as if escaping a memory by looking at the top cabinets. “We even went a couple of times after. Hit a couple of clubs here in downtown LA.” Eddie smiles and it’s almost like there’s no pain at the memory and Buck’s heart feels impossibly tight.
Oh, to be loved by Eddie Diaz. Shannon definitely was lucky in that regard.
“So you’ll come to the lesson?” Buck asks in the end, turning on the water in the sink and putting on a pair of thick rubber gloves that used to be in his apartment. The pressure in his chest grows stronger with the reminders of all the things he’s left at Eddie’s. He’s rarely a guest in this house, but he doesn’t live here anymore either. He never did.
“Yeah, sure. Might be a little rusty though. I haven’t really danced since Shannon–. Well, you know. I don’t exactly have a big social life at Dispatch either. Most we’ve done is go for drinks with Linda.” After putting his bento boxes in the fridge, Eddie leans on it and asks. “Are you going?”
His cheeks feel hot and he doesn’t dare look up at Eddie, so he just says “yeah. Hm. With Taylor.”
When Eddie doesn’t say anything, Buck turns around and finds him with two bottles of beer, offering one to Buck. “I didn’t know she danced.”
“I don’t think she does,” he takes the offered bottle and opens it using the corner of the countertop. Eddie drinks from his bottle and swallows slowly. Buck swears to himself he didn’t stare, but Eddie’s smug eyebrow rise tells him he’s not fooling anyone.
Buck takes his eyes from Eddie, leaning against the counter. “But if she doesn’t dance, I’m sure you could show us how to.”
“You have no idea the moves I could show you.”
If Buck’s dreaming, this is flirting. They kiss after this and he wakes up with a semi, his girlfriend unaware, sleeping almost 2 ft. away. But he’s got five fingers, all wrapped around the cold bottle of beer grounding him. Buck feels a little high on the idea of Eddie flirting with him in any reality. It’s no wonder his next words are, “I can’t wait for Saturday, then.”
In lieu of replying, Eddie smiles into his bottle, then drinks two big gulps. Buck’s eyes follow the movement, and he grips the countertop, stopping himself from starting things he won’t finish.
Eddie is, well, Eddie. He can’t screw this one up, no matter how much he wants to find out exactly how good a dancer he is somewhere else. Buck grips the countertop and counts to twenty. Then thirty.
Buck’s fine. Buck’s got his crush under control.
Buck starts to regret his decision the minute he shows up to the Tango Club. Jeremi, the hot instructor Ravi mentioned, still works there and gives Buck a once over when they run into each other at the entrance.
“Well, if it isn’t Firehose himself. Long time no see, Buck.” Buck plays up the charm when he smiles, even if the reminders of Buck 1.0 are never that fun to begin with.
“Well, I didn’t have any reason to drop by before.”
“And now?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.
It almost feels flirty and Buck knows we could easily flirt. Buck is aware he’s toeing over a line, but he also knows Taylor loves to arrive and stake some sort of claim over him that’s followed by a praising pat on his arm. “ Hey, Buck ,” she’d say. But later that night he’d discovered it meant good boy .
So, Buck has a praise kink, who doesn’t? He likes being praised by Taylor. He loves Taylor, Buck reminds himself, and she’s not here but he still respects her.
He’s about to say something about Taylor to Jeremi when, luckily, he spots Ravi and Lucy coming in his direction. Saved by the bell once more.
“My friends roped me into it,” Buck says with a nod in their direction.
“Oh, you can’t be serious,” Jeremi groans. “You work together, don’t you? What do they put in the coffee at that firehouse?”
Lucy and Ravi catch up then, Lucy with an eyebrow raised and a mischievous smile. “Hello, Buckaroo.” Then she pointedly turns to the man next to him and nods. “Jeremi.”
There’s a minute of tense silence but it’s quickly broken by Lucy’s laughter. “God, all queer people in LA have fucked each other. The whole six degrees of separation is real and when it comes to LA men, it’s probably reduced by 3 degrees. Let’s get over this and go inside.”
Jeremi laughs and adds, “well, I’m technically off. But I’m sure Marina and Alex won’t mind an advanced student to help them along.”
As they go inside, Buck tells them, “Go in, I’m waiting for Taylor.”
Ravi raises an eyebrow at that but no one says anything else.
Minutes pass and he’s fidgeting with his phone, about to text Taylor to ask her how much longer, when he looks up just in time as Eddie turns the corner to Overland Avenue.
Buck truly regrets his decision to show up today at that precise moment.
Eddie shows up in a casual outfit, but casual on Eddie is still too much for Buck. The tight Henley that stretches across his strong shoulders, the dark jeans that fit him snuggly, but look comfortably worn in. He looks good enough that Buck wants to lick him. Anywhere. Everywhere. This was definitely a terrible idea.
“What are you doing outside?” Eddie says by way of greeting.
“I–“ and the truth is, if his mouth is dry and words can’t get out, it must be because he hasn’t drunk water in a long time. He’s dehydrated, not thirsty over his (supposedly?) straight friend. “Nothing. I was about to call you. Thought you chickened out.”
“As if, Buckley.”
Buck turns his body in Eddie’s direction, unconsciously licking his dry lips trying to get enough moisture to speak. “Must be intimidating. For you.” Their shoulders bump together when both try to get the doorknob at the same time. Eddie’s hand is still on top of his when he adds, “I spent a summer in Peru, I know a few moves.”
Buck’s frozen on the spot. That sounded like flirting.
Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, without pulling his hand away. “I’ve been doing this since before Chris was born. Better luck next time, Buckley.”
He pulls the door open and only moves his hand from Buck’s to gesture at him pointing inside. Buck takes a deep breath and lets go of the handle. He’s supposed to be over this. It’s unfair to Taylor. He promised her what happened with Lucy wouldn’t happen again.
Once they go in, past the reception and into the mirror room, walking shoulder to shoulder —not that Buck is thinking about it—, he remembers he was about to check on Taylor. He takes his phone out and sees a message from her that reads: running a few minutes late. be there in 15.
He’s not completely sure what settles over his chest, but he’s glad no one has a direct line to his brain, because for a minute he was expecting her to say I’m here, a physical reminder that Buck’s not single. Not that he needs it, but still.
The instructors are explaining the basic steps of traditional tango to the room. Everyone seems to be paired up, but he’s not sure. Karen is fully embracing the class and is dressed in a long, flowy skirt that looks beautiful when Hen spins her around. They’re both smiling and Buck wonders when he gets to have exactly that: someone who looks at him like he’s the sun. He wonders if that’s the way he looks at Taylor. Or Eddie.
The instructors are both tall, slender women, one of them gives a demonstration of the full eight-step sequence and instructs them to pair up with a strong accent to her words. “Alex and I will decide how to pair you up after we see how you manage.”
Lucy walks over to them then.
“So, any of you gentlemen want to be led by the best dancer in the 118?”
Buck’s about to say something, but Eddie beats him to it. “That’s only because I’m at Dispatch now, Donato.”
Lucy smirks and offers her hand and Eddie takes it.
Buck’s brain goes a little fuzzy when Lucy asks him if he wants to lead one for his male dignity and Eddie said, “I’m fine either way.”
With a laugh, Lucy turns in Buck’s direction and says, “you heard that, Buck? Mr. LAFD Updates Man goes both ways.”
He’s about to come to Eddie’s defense? Or something? It felt offensive to him, but he sees Eddie shrug as if it’s no big deal. Well, it is a big deal to Buck, who spent years crushing on him completely convinced he was straight. He never made a move because Eddie wasn’t—
But in hindsight, it seems painfully obvious that maybe Eddie tried. Buck doesn’t get enough time to think about the things that could’ve been motivated by this crush-reciprocating-but-waiting-for-his-signal new light because the music begins and Eddie and Lucy are dancing.
It’s clear that Lucy comes here frequently because she seems to know her way around the beats as she skillfully leads the first eight steps, sure and confident in her stride.
It also becomes increasingly clear that Eddie truly is the best dancer the 118 has seen.
He lets Lucy lead but he knows the underlying rhythm so well that he can improvise here and there. Eddie takes an invisible cue from Lucy and immediately reads her intent to add something new when she pauses halfway through the next eight steps and twists half in one direction and then the other and looks at Eddie with an unspoken challenge in them. There’s more spinning and slow walking, Lucy drags her leg down Eddie’s while looking at Buck directly, and when she leans on Eddie, he’s ready to catch her and spin her around.
Lucy walks away but Eddie doesn’t miss a beat and walks after her —prances almost, it’s just too elegant and purposeful to be described as walking. He’s a panther on a hunt and people are noticing. Lucy turns and meets him halfway, and she opens her arms in a more traditional tango pose. Eddie grabs Lucy by the waist with such a finality, you’d think they’ve been dancing for years. He leads them through a series of steps —Lucy and Eddie cheek to cheek the entire time—, to end in Lucy kicking back in the air, falling in a graceful arch, then using Eddie as support to do a split just as the song gives the final staccato.
By the time the song ends —couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes, Buck is at least sure of that—, they’ve gathered a small audience of the other attendees.
Buck doesn’t know what’s happening or where he is, because Eddie is dancing, and by God , he is dancing.
People clap and cheer at them and Karen jokes that now she believes he knew about this place after coming here to dance, not just see the performances.
“I’m not much of a performance guy myself,” says Eddie, blushing at the praise. He looks just the tiniest bit out of breath, as if he was just getting used to this type of exercise again. A bead of sweat runs from his temple and Buck has to take a deep breath to stop himself from licking. That would be extremely inappropriate given they’re in public and, also, not together because Buck has a girlfriend.
A girlfriend who’s more than 15 minutes late.
Frowning, he takes his phone out and types a quick are u ok? to Taylor and before his phone is back in his pocket, it vibrates with a notification.
I’m sorry Buck, but I really want to wrap this story up now
I’ll meet you back home
I’ll pick up Thai :)
Buck shakes his head and doesn’t reply, just shoves the phone back in his pocket, annoyed. He’s about to turn away to leave, as there’s no point in him being here when Lucy comes up to him.
“Wanna go for a round, Buckley? My partner was stolen by the pros.”
Buck raises his head and sees Eddie and Jeremi chatting animatedly. Eddie is talking with his hands, making circular gestures to Jeremi before Jeremi cracks up and touches Eddie’s bicep in a way that’s definitely flirty. Eddie laughs as well but when his eyes find Buck's, his smile hesitates for a fraction of a second, then he turns to one of the instructors talking to them —Buck didn’t catch her name, but she was tall and looked regal in a red dress— and his smile is back in full force.
Lucy, who hasn’t moved an inch, tries to find his eyes as she says “Buck, you okay?”
His mind says fuck it as he replies, “yeah, sure, let’s dance.”
There have been bad ideas: kissing Lucy in the bar that night, asking Taylor to move in with him, not breaking up with her when he’s clearly still crushing on his not-so-straight best friend; and there have been terrible ideas: accepting Hen’s invitation, asking Eddie to come just to see him get flirted with by two tango instructors, and agreeing to dance with Lucy. The last one was the biggest oversight on Buck’s part because Lucy is one of the good dancers and the instructors pair her up with other students who are not doing so well. Buck manages well enough, so he gets to dance with another woman with blue streaks in her hair who also manages well enough with the basics.
However, after they do two rounds of the basics and Buck’s starting to work up a sweat, they add some extra steps he keeps messing up. Buck wasn’t lying, he did learn to dance in Peru, but dancing salsa is not tango and no acrobatics need to happen at any point of that dance whatsoever.
Not that they’re acrobatics, but they sure feel off for Buck who’s starting to annoy his partner —Mari, she said when he asked her— with his sidestepping and longing looks over to Eddie that have him stepping on her toes more than once.
“Buck, it’s not that difficult, you’re thinking too much about it. It’s I kick, you kick, I step out, you kick behind and then back to five so I can do an eight. We almost got it the last time” Mari’s sweet, but her voice reminds her of Taylor’s a little too much and he can’t focus whenever Eddie is paired up with another guy and they dance.
Because Eddie can dance very well apparently. Because he’s been dancing since before Chris was born. Because those are things he’s just found out about his not so straight best friend Eddie Diaz — another thing he found out today.
“I’m trying. Let’s go over this again.”
Mari is about to start again when Buck notices Eddie walking in his direction. He softly taps on Mari’s shoulder and points her to go to Jeremi, who was the last in the long rotation of people who have danced with Eddie this evening. Jeremi’s had multiple turns while Buck had gotten none.
Buck wonders if that was luck or not.
Eddie is holding his hand out to Buck, a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips. Buck takes it because terrible ideas lead to terrible decisions and he knows that at some point, he’ll regret this.
“How do you wanna do this?” Eddie asks. Buck closes his eyes for a moment, knowing that that is going to make an appearance in what are sure to be new dreams featuring Eddie.
“I’m fine either way,” he echoes.
Eddie fully smiles then. “I know.”
Buck knows that smug smile will make the rounds in his head as well.
Eddie guides Buck through the steps, enunciating clearly —one, two, three, four. You stop, I kick. I stop you kick—, speaking terribly close to his ear any time they stand close to each other. The first time, Buck only missteps once and it’s possible it was because Eddie breathed too close to his ear.
“You’re a quick study,” Eddie comments when they manage the full series of steps on their second go. His head is tilted in Buck’s direction, looking at him openly with soft eyes, while still managing to keep his eyes on their feet moving along to the last notes of the song.
His chest feels tight as he drinks in the small praise. Buck’s heart has been beating double time since the moment Eddie took his hand, but it feels ridiculous when Eddie looks at him like that, a little flushed from the dancing, a bead of sweat on his temple, a drop of sweat going down his neck. Buck becomes hyper aware of the small distance between them and every hair in his body stands up. He’s glad for the long-sleeved t-shirt he donned, but at the same time wonders how it would be to feel Eddie’s hands on his bare skin.
Not a route to go down now of all times.
“I gotta admit I was on Karen’s side about you knowing about this place,” he tries for lighthearted, but every word seems to weigh between them right now.
“I was a person before I joined the army, you know?” he sounds exactly like Buck just did, as if lighthearted doesn’t cut it. Buck’s aware of the music being paused, some of the couples stepping away, but not all.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” If it comes out hurt it’s because Buck is hurt. If he had known before, he could’ve– he would’ve… Things would’ve been different, he’s sure.
“I didn’t think you cared about dancing,” one of the instructors calls everyone to attention to explain they’ll do a final round with the music from beginning to end. Buck is still holding Eddie, one hand on his waist, one hand in his hand. He’s tense, as if preparing for a sprint. Buck knows that Eddie knows this is not about the dancing.
“ I told you,” Buck says accusingly, as if Eddie ought to repay the favor of coming out immediately.
“And I appreciated your honesty back then.” Eddie lets go of Buck’s hand, using it to carefully caress Buck's cheek. Buck can’t help but lean into it a bit. Just for a second, half a second, before Eddie lets his hand fall, inevitably close to Buck’s. “Besides, I didn’t know.”
Buck frowns at that. “How come you didn’t know?”
Before Eddie could respond, Alex, one of the instructors, called for attention. “Alright, everyone, one last time. From the top.”
Eddie lifts an eyebrow, his hand reaching for Buck’s, just a breath away, “can I have this last dance, Evan?”
For the briefest of seconds, Buck imagines himself saying no, but his own hand twitches in Eddie’s direction out of its own volition and wraps around his fingers. The swell of the violins around them could be cheesy, but Buck finds out he likes the drama of it.
They stand chest to chest, breathing each other’s air until a woman’s nostalgic voice leads them through the first round of eight steps, half a round — I kick. I stop. You kick , Eddie’s voice inside Buck’s head—, then another half and start again. After that round, Eddie seems to decide that it is too easy for Buck, because he takes the lead and runs them through the whole eight-step sequence at a hurried pace, Buck barely keeping up, but so enthused by Eddie’s charm that he follows eagerly behind him.
Eddie takes them back to the basic sequence at a normal speed, the hand on his waist twitches and Buck knows this is something more. He knows it because when the music grows and grows like a monster trying to swallow them, Buck holding on tighter as well, feeling his heart pound inside his ribcage. They’re both hanging on for dear life and Buck thinks that nothing, no one, has made him feel like this before: both drowning and thirsty for something more.
When the violins come back, they walk the basic sequence twice, without a hitch, moving in sync the same way they used to move in the field. The lyrics sound tragic and dramatic, accentuated by the change of the instruments. And it’s in that moment, to the words of a tango he doesn’t understand, to the hopeful sounds coming from a music player in a mirror room in West LA that Buck realizes: I am in love with him. There’s no one else but Eddie . It’s never stopped, maybe never will .
When the music falls, note by note, Eddie’s eyes are on his lips and Buck can’t take his eyes off Eddie’s. They’re balancing on a thin thread that could wreak havoc on them and those around them.
Buck holds on for a second longer than allowed, justifying it on his tiredness, but eventually lets go. What he’s missing is more evident now than ever. An Eddie-shaped gap that Taylor will never fill.
Around them, the instructors and other attendees clap. Everyone thanks them for the lesson and a couple of men, and blue-streaked hair Mari, come to thank Eddie by giving him their numbers. Eddie blushes and thanks them, but he balls up the sheets of paper when he shoves them into his pockets.
As Buck leaves the workshop, there’s only one thing in mind: I have to break up with Taylor .
EDDIE
Usually, Eddie is allowed to listen to Sin Bandera when he’s at home, alone, dusting the family photos. He’s allowed to listen to Sin Bandera in El Paso because it’s his mother’s favorite band in Spanish, she’s always playing them when she does chores around the house. He’s making progress in allowing himself to listen to whatever he wants, wherever he wants and right now it’s a prime example, as he mouths the lyrics to a song that blasts from the tiny speakers in his phone.
As Eddie picks up some of the litter from his dad’s party, once the band has left and the guests have said their goodbyes, Eddie replays the conversation with his Dad in the kitchen and sighs. It was a perfect moment to add “by the way, apparently I am bisexual.” Or something else that might give his father a coronary. Again. He wants to reach out to someone and Eddie knows exactly who, but it might be unfair to burden Buck with all his family drama when he’s probably on call right now.
Instead of doing that, he’s singing along with gusto, enthralled by the electric guitars and drums. When Eddie was 17, singing that same song as he drove around with his dad, his father changed the station to something good . Eddie can’t recall the music his father considered good but he remembers that he never played that station again. He didn’t allow himself to listen to them until he left for LA, where he and Chris tried to outdo each other singing.
But the thrum inside his head still warns him he needs to talk to someone.
He’s still weighing his options when Adriana comes out of the house, bottle of wine in one hand, her phone in the other. She kicks the door shut behind her, takes a long drink from the wine and cheers in Eddie’s direction. He gestures to the benches that no one will bother with tonight, tossing his trash bag with the rest, then sitting on the table, giving Adriana as much space as she needs.
“You’re not 21 yet,” he says as his sister takes another sip from the bottle.
“Lo único que quieren es hablar de ti.” Adriana checks her phone, shaking her head. “Si no le hubieras dado un ataque a Papá, se lo daba yo.”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Ha. ha, very funny.” She takes a sip from her bottle and turns to him. Very seriously, she says. “I’m gay.”
She’s staring at Eddie with such an intensity, he doesn’t know how to react. Adri and Sophi always had each other as confidants, Eddie was the odd one out. It wasn’t until after the shooting that they started talking frequently again. Still, he wants to reciprocate in a way, in the only way he can.
“Me too. Sort of.”
Adri takes a bigger gulp of wine, then passes the bottle to Eddie. “At least you had a kid first.”
“Do you want a kid?” he asks instead.
“Fuck, no. I’m thinking of moving to California and crashing on my brother’s nice couch.”
She’s not looking at him, and Eddie knows it’s not what Adri wants, but he still says, “whenever you want. As long as you want.”
Adriana sits closer to him and leans her head on Eddie. “It sucks to be gay in El Paso, y’know?”
“Well, you can come be gay in LA whenever you want. I’m still figuring it out but I already know some people from the tango club and Hen and Karen, though they’re older than you but you’ll have fun.”
Adriana sits up straight with a jolt and an incredulous look. “Wait, you’re serious? Are you ‘sort of’ whatever that means?”
“As I said, I’m figuring it out.”
Adriana takes the bottle of wine from him, before he can even take a sip, and takes two long gulps, grimacing when she puts the bottle on the table, right in between them. “No wonder you almost gave him a heart attack. I would’ve killed him!”
“I didn’t even get to that part. We started talking, y’know, about… stuff. He knows it didn’t work out with Ana.”
“But he doesn’t know why,” Adri finishes. At Eddie’s nod, she grabs the wine, drinks a sip, then passes it to Eddie. Eddie, for his part, thinks that the last thing he needs is nightmares tonight, so he might as well serve himself, now that his father is okay. He takes a big gulp of the wine and turns to Adriana, who’s looking at him with a small smile on her face.
“There’s a guy, isn’t it?”
Eddie could deny it, tell his little sister that things with Ana weren’t meant to be, but he doesn’t want to lie inside this bubble of honesty they've created.
But how to explain Buck to Adriana who’s likely thinking about her first love? Or maybe not, but this is the start of their ride. Buck and Eddie did a speedrun and got into risking their lives for each other more often than not.
Buck risked his life for Christopher when instead of seeking medical attention, he searched the coast for hours, screaming himself hoarse, bleeding –while on blood thinners, mind you–, looking for Eddie’s son.
Buck dug with his bare hands when Eddie was trapped in a well, as if he could get Eddie out himself, without any machinery and in the middle of a thunderstorm.
Buck came rushing out of the hospital when shots were fired after they were held hostage for hours, his eyes panicked looking for the wound. And then it only took him two sentences to communicate what he wanted to say.
Buck held him during that one tango masterclass long enough to leave an empty spot next to Eddie where Buck should be.
Buck helped him put the pieces of his home back together and never judged him for breaking; he dealt with Christopher’s schedule so Eddie could crash after therapy when the exhaustion set in.
He didn’t want a ready-made family with Ana because he already had one. Buck just wasn’t aware of it yet.
In the end, Eddie says, “It’s complicated.”
“When isn’t it with you?” Adri teeases, raising the bottle of wine in a toast as he shakes his head with a laugh.
Eddie didn’t show up with transfer papers to Bobby's house, but the idea had been in his mind after the Dispatch fire, so first, he spoke to Sue. Sue wasn’t even in his chain of command, but it felt like the right thing to do, notify her that he’s starting the paperwork with the LAFD and someone else will take his place.
Sue smiles at him and says, “I expected you to be back on the field by now.”
“Someone had to cover the 118 truck accident. Couldn’t leave that one to someone else.”
“Congrats, by the way, I hear Mr LAFD Updates Man has been trending. Or so Josh says.”
Eddie rolls his eyes and says, “will you come to my transfer party, Sue? We’ll probably do karaoke and drinks… I’m not sure, Linda picked the place.”
“If you take my best dispatcher, I have to stay.” She smiles at him anyway. “I’ll see you around, firefighter Diaz.
That night, still feeling warm from Sue’s words, Linda and Eddie meet outside, next to Eddie’s truck.
“Should we?” he asks.
“I think we better Uber tonight. My last call–. I need a stiff drink”
Eddie understands the unspoken rest of the sentence and feels for her. He knows that Linda loves her job, but she’s right: it comes with a cost. Just as they head out, they see Maddie entering the building for an evening shift.
On their way, Eddie confirms with Carla that Chris has been dropped off at Hen’s and shoots a quick message to Buck.
Linda and I are on our way , he doesn’t know why he does it, but Buck replies in a minute.
drink one on me.
what for?
i’m bracing for a talk with taylor
He swallows a bitter comeback because Buck is his friend, he will support him.
So I guess you're done being mad at her?
i just want things to be different
There’s a long time between the text bubble with its three dots that indicate Buck’s typing, yet his only reply is a simple Chris ok for the night? that makes his heart beat faster.
yeah, he’s at Hen’s
meet u tomorrow for breakfast?
Buck doesn’t take a minute to send his reply: a smiley face and a person running. He just ended a 24-hour shift and Eddie knows he likes to sleep a lot on the first day, and while sleepovers with Denny were a good option, Eddie knows Chris would’ve loved to stay with Buck.
Because Buck fits into his family in a way no one else did and now he wants things to be different with Taylor. Whatever that means.
“What does it mean when someone says: I just want things to be different.” Linda, who’s been quiet the whole ride, probably still in her head about her last call, turns around then.
“It means someone is either about to be dumped or proposed to.”
Well, fuck. This can’t mean the latter when they’ve been avoiding each other since she broke the Jonah story? It can’t possibly be that.
Two drinks later, two more on the way, he’s convinced himself that Buck has grown and he’s an adult man, free to make his own choices. If that’s marrying Taylor, then so be it.
He swears it’s not serious. Edies doesn’t really believe it. Not even four (or six) drinks in.
But when Linda is on her uber home and he’s still waiting for his ride to his empty house, Eddie sees a street performer pack up her things as a small mariachi group sets up across the street. Two songs later, he gets an idea his foggy, mezcal-fueled brain thinks is amazing.
Without Linda there to stop it, Eddie’s got no reason to believe it’s a bad idea.
BUCK
Buck stares blankly at the open fridge without really seeing the contents inside. He’s pretty sure the pre-packed fruit salad in the top shelf has been sitting there unopened for far too long and has probably gone bad by now, but he can’t make himself put it in the trash. Buck has spent too many days avoiding his apartment, crashing at Eddie’s whenever he could, picking up an extra shift here and there to have a reason to hang out at the station a little longer, so much so that his place doesn’t even feel like his own anymore. He wouldn’t buy pre-packed fruit salad for himself – he likes the repetitive motion of peeling apples, chopping strawberries, picking seeds out of oranges, setting a portion of fruit without pineapple aside —because Eddie doesn’t like pineapple in his fruit salad but Chris does, so Buck makes two fruit salads, what’s the big deal? Besides, Chris and Buck have been recycling lately and part of being environmentally conscious is to reduce the use of single-use plastics in the first place. Buck’s pretty sure he told Taylor once, but if the salad is there it is because it never registered for her.
He glances in the direction of the loft where Taylor is currently packing her clothes and wonders how long they were on a different page. Had they ever been on the same page? One time, during a maneuver, Buck was about to yell at Eddie to give him extra rope but before he could form the words, the rope gave way and he had the extra inches to reach the window he was supposed to kick in.
Not for the first time, he thinks he’s never been on the same page with anyone the way he was with Eddie on the field. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in his chest, knowing that it’s in the past. Buck is happy that Eddie’s finally finding his footing at dispatch, but the day of the fire —comfortably standing side by side while the fire roared in the background, Buck’s heart beating faster every time he turned around and Eddie was there— well, Buck has a hard time letting go of that feeling.
Buck’s about to text Eddie to ask him if he can crash at his place tonight when he remembers that Eddie is supposed to meet Linda for drinks after his shift. He doesn’t want to ruin his friend’s first night out in months with his sad breakup moping —and he’s sure Chris is spending the night at Hen’s; Chris himself texted Buck to tell him he asked Toni for the casserole recipe so Buck could make it for him on Saturday night— so instead of texting his best friend, he closes the fridge with a sigh and rests his forehead against the closed door.
He stayed with Taylor because it was easy and comfortable, but whose definition of easy and comfortable was Buck using? The easiest and most comfortable he ever felt was doing the dishes at the Diaz household, while Eddie sang softly to himself in Spanish drying and putting away the cutlery.
Buck feels so stupid for not noticing before when it seems glaringly obvious to him now. He once teased Maddie about it: at least when I date someone, I date them. Yet, here he was avoiding his girlfriend for days on end until he gathered the courage to break up with her because he’s never stopped being in love with his best friend.
He knew he had it bad, but the wave of longing that filled him at the thought of going to Eddie’s place, watching a movie with Chris and maybe sharing a beer with his best friend? He’d never longed for family like that. The closest he’d been to feeling like that was when his sister was kidnapped and, for a few hours, Buck thought he’d lost her forever. Maddie was the only family he had back then. He couldn’t afford to lose the family he had now by asking Eddie out.
But wouldn’t that be a beautiful thing? A date with Eddie Diaz. Eddie implied that a date could be in the cards. When they danced, Eddie’s hands told the story of a long-awaited moment. Buck would be chasing that hazy high for the rest of his life.
Taylor comes downstairs with one of her suitcases and storms back up to pick up more clothes. She’s wearing sneakers but the decided struts speak louder than stilettos. Buck isn’t afraid of Taylor, but he is wary of how she’ll react in the future, when she’s past hurt avenue and turns right down fury street.
Just as he puts his phone on the counter, it vibrates with a message from Eddie that reads: we found the goooood mezcal .
Shaking his head, Buck starts emptying the fridge of things that are unusable by now and sets on making soup. A good soup is always a good meal and he’s pretty sure there’s ramen stashed somewhere in his sterile kitchen.
He’s done with chopping vegetables when he hears a guitar coming from somewhere. Buck almost smiles to himself at the idea of someone being serenaded on a Friday night. The police might get involved.
Buck hears the music come closer from somewhere down the street: guitars, violin and trumpets, the whole deal. It’s getting closer and closer to his building and Buck hopes that whoever’s out there doesn’t go viral for this. The melody sounds mournful and he wonders who’s the poor sap serenading one of his neighbors.
Then the poor sap starts singing, terribly off-key and slurring together some of the words… and Buck knows that voice. He’s heard it so many times that he could find him in a room full of people without even trying. The song gets more intense, trumpets accompanying the build up of the song whenEddie stumbles over a word. There’s more instrumental phrasing replacing his voice, only for him to come back at full lung capacity for the chorus. Buck goes out to the balcony in his shorts and hoodie, only slightly out of breath.
It’s a full mariachi ensemble, guitarron included. They’re all dressed in tasteful black and Eddie himself is also wearing a black henley. There’s a woman in an equally black dress to back-up Eddie during the chorus. Then, a theatrical, sorrowful cry afterwards that reminds Buck of having lunch with Eddie’s abuela, the smell of her famous tamales in the air as she lets Buck help with the wrapping up. Warmth spreads through his chest at the thought of the familiarity of those Sunday evenings. Why did he let this thing with Taylor go on this long?
Another person picks up for the second stanza when Buck realizes: Eddie. Eddie is serenading him ?
“God, how pathetic do you have to be to do this, right?” Taylor asks, passing him on her way to the fridge, where she takes a bottle of Buck’s cold pressed juice.
Buck is about to comment on it, sprint out of the apartment and get Eddie away from the possible blast range of Taylor’s pointed words but he doesn’t get a chance when Eddie yells:
“Buck! Buck I gotta tell you something,” it’s weird that Eddie’s Texan accent comes out so strongly, right now it’s heavy on the vowels as he calls, “Buck!”
He doesn’t need to turn in Taylor’s direction to know her feelings on that; Buck can feel her eyes burning through his skull. Frozen to the spot, Buck barely manages to lean out, looking at Eddie from his 4th floor apartment, while a few of his neighbors downstairs are turning on their lights.
“Buck, don't marry Taylor! It doesn’t have to be me, just don’t marry her!”
The woman who was doing the backup vocals giggles mid-verse and her act drops for the rest of the song, her words sung sweeter and happier than before.
Taylor huffs behind him. “You don’t wanna try again with me but you want to try with Eddie ?”
Something possessive curls inside him when she says Eddie’s name in that tone, like he’s not in the same league she is. “Leave Eddie out of this. He didn’t even know I was gonna talk to you. Hell, apparently he thinks I wanted to propose.”
In the background Eddie can be heard yelling, “una más, maestro!”—then a little lower, but still loud enough to be heard three floors up—“Como quien pierde una estrella, ¿la saben?”
A moment later, the guitars start again with another song. Buck thinks he’s heard it in Pepa’s house. Buck finally turns to find Taylor perched on the breakfast bar they’d defiled a number of times before. Buck immediately thinks of Eddie in that same spot and his heart seems to grow another size too big for his ribcage. Taylor’s got one of her brows raised, like she’s waiting for Buck to catch up.
“Go get your loverboy before someone calls the police, or worse, starts streaming this on instagram.” She drinks her cold-pressed juice still staring at him. “Go, Buck. Save him the humiliation.”
Buck quickly goes down the stairs until he reaches Eddie, who’s still singing passionately about loving and sorrow. He can’t make out the whole thing with Eddie’s slurring.
“Hey! Here he comes! Buck!”
The music only feels louder outside. His neighbors will definitely say something.
“Eddie, let’s go upstairs.” Eddie keeps singing, this time at a lower volume, but still loud enough to be heard from the door.
He walks towards Eddie and takes his hand. Buck can already see someone with their phone out, probably filming the whole thing. To the band, he says, “guys, I’ll take it from here!”
“He paid for a full show,” one of the men says.
“It’s fine, don’t worry. I have to take him upstairs.” Turning to Eddie, he says, “come on. You need water and an aspirin, probably.”
“’m not goin’ ‘till you promise me.”
“Until I promise what?”
“You’re not goin’ to marry her.”
He rolls his eyes at the idiocy of that statement. “Eddie, come on. Let’s go talk upstairs.”
“Buck–”
But Buck doesn’t want to give his neighbors a bigger show, so he braces himself for a second before he lifts Eddie in a fireman's carry to get him inside the building. Once there, he walks with him in tow until they’re at the stairs that lead to his floor, where he lowers him onto a bench to check him out.
“Hey, Eddie, look at me.”
“‘m a lil dizzy,” Buck wonders if he’ll have to call 911 because Eddie’s too intoxicated to recover, but Eddie quickly forces himself to sit upright, watching Buck closely. Buck, who’s never liked the taste of tequila that much, still very much would like to taste it from Eddie’s lips. When he speaks, it’s barely a mumble. “You look worried.”
“I didn’t think Eddie Diaz got wasted.”
“I don’t.” The elevator door opens then and some girls come out quickly running down the hallway. Buck puts his hand near the sensor and nods to Eddie to get up.
Fortunately, Eddie can stand, if not walk without falling. Buck uses that as an excuse to hold him up on the way to his apartment where Taylor is still sitting on the countertop where he left her.
“Hi, Eddie,” she says with a sweet tone, different from how she’d referred to him earlier. Buck thought he should feel uncomfortable, carrying his friend to the sofa, where he settles down with a bottle of water and a clean hoodie —one of Buck’s. Yeah, that’ll make it to Buck’s dreams— watching the TV on low.
Buck stands in front of Taylor, looking her straight in the eye when he says, “there was never anything between me and Eddie while I was dating you.”
“Clearly,” her words bite, but at least, she doesn’t go for the jugular. “Now it all makes sense. Hindsight. Twenty-twenty. I get it.”
“Taylor–”
“No, Buck, I get it. We had history, but you two? I don’t know what the hell to call that.” She jumps from the countertop with ease, balancing as she steps to the door to grab her bag and jacket. “I’ll come to pick up my things tomorrow. I’ve earned wine and room service.”
Buck checks the living room, where Eddie is lying down on the sofa, making himself smaller to fit there. His hoodie and the black henley underneath rolled up at the waist the tiniest bit, exposing his midriff. Buck doesn’t stare, that would be inappropriate. Maybe.
“Hey, Eddie.” Buck’s voice sounds hoarse to his own ears. “Eddie, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Don’t want it to be tomorrow,” but as he says so, he nuzzles one of the pillows on Taylor’s sofa.
“Eddie, come on, don’t make me carry you again.”
“Felt nice,” is all he gets for a response. “So strong.”
“Eddie–”
His next words are pitched a little higher, as if imitating someone. “Si hasta habla Español, Eddito.”
“Eddie?” There’s a long silence and then Eddie’s soft snoring convinces him he’s asleep.
“Your neck is gonna hurt like hell,” he tells Eddie, but there’s no answer.
Buck goes up to the loft and gets ready for bed knowing Eddie serenaded him. He honest to god brought him music to his door, music that he kind of loved. Maybe he would’ve liked it better if Eddie hadn’t come up hours after the break up with Taylor, but still, he remembers Eddie asking for a second song. He falls asleep listening to Como quien pierde una estrella , and his heart feels tight when he hears the chorus, his head lighter. Dear God, grant me solace to remove from within me this thing that's killing me .
God, Eddie didn’t have to go that hard but he did and now Buck will never know peace knowing they (maybe? hopefully) got together because of a serenade.
EDDIE
Eddie wakes up with the mother of headaches and light coming from the wrong side of the bed. Then he notices he’s not actually on a bed, but on Buck's —Taylor’s— couch, a spring digging into his side as he sits up.
The smell of something sweet frying in a pan makes Eddie’s stomach stir but he is cautious to drink the glass of fresh water and ibuprofen combo in front of him. He smiles at the idea of Buck leaving this for him, but as soon as he takes them, dread sets in his stomach. Eddie told Buck. He knows he said Something. Something must’ve been said, but what exactly Eddie said the previous night is foggy at best.
Why is Eddie here and not in his empty room far from here? Why is he wearing one of Buck’s hoodies? And most importantly, can someone get Eddie some of that sweet thing being fried somewhere?
He goes to the kitchen just as Buck turns around.
“Good morning. How’s the headache?”
“Minor considering… God, I don’t even remember. Linda wanted temporary amnesia and I just matched her shot by shot.”
“Bad day?”
“Just a really bad call.”
Buck nods and points with a spatula to a spot in front of him.
“There’s pancakes and there’s coffee if you want.”
Marry me, Eddie thinks.
“Coffee would be great,” he says instead.
They have breakfast in silence, barely looking at each other, since every time Eddie catches Buck staring, the man looks away with a smug smile on his face.
Once Eddie has eaten his fair share of pancakes, he asks, “alright, how embarrassing is it? You didn’t have to bail me out of jail, did you? I think I’d remember that.”
“I thought that was hypothetical.“
“It was.” When Buck doesn’t respond, but just ducks his head with a little blush and says to the pancakes it was nice . “What was nice, Buck? I don’t really have last night in chronological order.”
“The mariachi, the song.”
Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. He thought he only dreamed that, he wouldn’t be so stupid to– oh god, he confessed with a telenovela song. He’ll never hear the end of it from his sisters.
“I’m so sorry, really. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot with Taylor last night—”
“We broke up a few hours before the mariachi.”
Well, then.
What now?
“It was a really nice song, a bit dramatic in my opinion, but I liked it. Did it come from one of your telenovelas?”
“I don’t really know. Might’ve. I remembered it from growing up.” Eddie scratches the back of his head in a nervous gesture, Buck and him don’t usually share stories about growing up. At least not like this. “The radio station my mom liked had Mexican music from time to time.”
“Your mom speaks Spanish as well?”
“Some. She met my Dad in a Spanish class he was tutoring apparently. They tell a different version every anniversary so I suppose they don’t want us to know the truth.”
“Must be kinky.”
“Buck,” he groans, but Buck laughs harder and in turn that makes him laugh too.
There’s a comfortable silence afterwards, the kind they usually fall in while drinking a beer on the balcony, but this time it's over pancakes and coffee. Eddie would gladly spend the rest of his life serenading Buck for a breakfast served with a smile every morning.
Instead, therapy has been good for one thing. “Look, Buck. It was unfair of me to just dump my crush on you. Knowing you had just broken up with your girlfriend doesn’t help either. You need time to process it and to close the cycle on your own time, I–”
“Eddie, I broke up with Taylor because I’m irrevocably in love with my best friend. Have been for the longest time.” He smiles, then lowers his head to confide something, coming closer. “But I think it would be better for us if we don’t jump into it.”
“We don’t have to.”
“So, nothing changes between us right now. I need my best friend to take me out for a night in the town. I just ended a relationship.”
“Well, your friend needs to pick up his son from Hen’s before Karen starts calling me because the kids are overstaying their welcome.”
“Chris could never,” Buck mentions.
“Christopher will use his charms for personal gain in the form of whatever Toni feels like whipping up. He does it with you all the time.”
Buck laughs softly, shaking his head. Eddie wants to kiss him so badly. He told him everything already, now the ball is on his court. Buck for his part, lets him go, still wearing Buck’s dark blue hoodie.
BUCK
It’s been weeks. Weeks since Eddie showed up at his door with an off-key rendition of music he can translate but not truly understand until he brushes up on his Spanish for real. In the meantime, things continue to happen: Hen and Karen renew their vows and Eddie dances with Karen and Lucy and even Maddie, but Buck stays with Jee-Yun the entire time, afraid that if Eddie and Buck dance, the whole place would burn down out of sexual frustration.
Because Buck is still Buck and even Buck 4.0 —if that’s even a new version and not just an update of Buck 3.0— wants Eddie like he hasn’t wanted anyone in years. He’d do anything to be held by Eddie again. Instead, he stays at the kid’s table until most of the kids are drifting off to sleep.
Chris catches up to him from inside of Hen’s house then, “Buck, will you teach me how to dance?”
“What makes you think I’m a good dancer?”
“You have the look.” Buck laughs and ducks his head.
“You got it all wrong this time, Chris. Your dad’s the one who should be teaching you.”
“But he dances like a dad.”
The protest is so funny that Buck laughs until his sides hurt. “Well, he’s a good dancer for a dad. Didn’t he tell you he and your mom used to dance a lot? It was their thing.”
“Can’t it be your thing too?”
Buck’s heart beats a little faster at that, but he doesn’t get the chance to reply when Eddie walks over to them and asks Buck for a dance. He says Buck, not Evan , but good god, the electric jolt that runs through him feels exactly like the first time Eddie asked him for a dance.
Most of the guests have left by now, only the core of the firehouse stays and when Maddie spots them, she quickly makes her way to them to pick up Jee-Yun and winks at him.
Buck knows he’s been acting terrible the last few weeks, whining to Maddie constantly that he doesn’t want to wait anymore, that he’s tired of Eddie’s respectful distance and calm demeanor, as if they had their entire lives to catch up. Buck wishes that was the case, but he’s wasted years already. How long does he have to keep waiting?
Once Jee-Yun is carried away, Eddie offers his hand and Buck takes it just like he did during the dance lesson. The music is not particularly slow, but when Eddie walks him to the makeshift dance floor, it seems like everything’s slowed down right to this moment.
When they dance together, barely swaying from side to side, just like Bobby and Athena have done for half of the reception, Buck’s world narrows down to the music, to the feel of Eddie’s calloused hand in his and to Eddie’s hand on his waist. It’s just a dance, but it lights all of his nerve endings on fire.
“When are we going to stop doing this?” Buck asks, still swaying to the music.
“Dancing? We can stop, if you want,” Eddie’s hand relaxes on his waist, as if ready to let go.
“No, I meant– What we’re doing. Why aren’t we talking about us?”
“Are you in a hurry?” Eddie asks, leaning his cheek against Buck’s. For his part, Buck tries not to melt into the touch.
It takes him a moment to find his voice again, he swallows heavily before he speaks, “I’m just dying to kiss you over here.”
“Now?”
“Any time. All the time,” his voice sounds hoarse to his ears. He takes comfort in Eddie’s sigh against his ear.
“Come home with me tonight,” Eddie says when the music ends. He says home like it’s theirs, like they’re already sharing a life together. They’re still holding each other when Eddie moves slightly away from him to look at him directly. “What do you say? We’ll get Chris, go home, put on a movie. Maybe he’ll sleep early and—”
“Alright,” he interrupts. Eddie’s faint blush is visible in the dimming light. Buck thinks it’s the perfect moment for one of the songs in Eddie’s secret playlist to play. “You know I’m in love with you, right? I’d say yes to anything right now.”
In lieu of replying, Eddie cradles Buck’s face with both hands and kisses him like his life depends on it. Buck, for his part, drinks him in like this is the last chance he’ll get to do it. Imagining their first kiss he expected it to be desperate, frantic, maybe shared after an adrenaline jolt. Instead, they kiss like they have all the time in the world. Buck thinks he’s never felt more grounded than now, holding onto Eddie, his lips tingling at every contact point.
They separate when the catcalls start, both a little out of breath. Buck knows he’s blushing, but under Eddie’s hands nothing matters but those brown eyes looking at him like he holds the answers to all the questions in the entire world.
“Let’s go home,” Buck repeats. Home, like he’s allowed to have this.
“Yeah. Let’s.”