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There’s a reason Buck can’t be left alone in front of cameras.

This isn’t much of a problem until he dates a reporter—because no one else except for Taylor ‘ the truth is everything ’ Kelly would paint firefighters, of all community groups, in a bad light. Not that—okay, Buck practically does her job for her, these days, when she’s somehow at every single call the 118 takes, even the stupid ones, which makes Ravi giggle.

And also, because he’s Ravi, Buck’s partner, narrow his eyes at her like a guard dog.

“Shame that they couldn’t get anyone else to cover this,” Ravi will say, grinning with his teeth bared like some sort of giant teddy bear with teeth, like the evil one from Toy Story 3. “I know how much you wanted to do real journalism.”

It becomes sort of like an inside joke, only not really because Ravi’s laughing and Taylor looks like she wants to spit on him, and Buck will apologize, only it comes out way too sarcastic, and then Bobby looks like he wants to spit on them too.

—And the circle of life continues.

This time, though, Taylor’s not there. They’re at a minor car crash off Sunset and Beverly and they only have to use the jaws on one of the three sedans—Buck lets Ravi handle it as Chimney and Hen bandage cuts and deal with possible concussions—while he and Bobby clear the crash from the intersection. 

“I’m not lonely,” Buck argues as he takes a chunk of metal from Bobby. “Like, personally, I think everyone should be glad that I broke up with Taylor.”

“We are glad, Buck,” Bobby responds, with the air of someone who’s had this conversation before. He has. “We also think you might be lonely. It’s been a couple months now, hasn’t it?”

“A couple of months of freedom,” Buck counters, and Ravi appears out of nowhere to fist bump him.

“Yeah, man,” Ravi says cheerfully, hair matted to his forehead. “Women suck. I love misogyny.”

It’s not convincing, only because it’s Ravi, who regularly uses his PTO to volunteer at women’s marches across the greater Los Angeles Area and “ loves lesbians, but not in a creepy way ”. Bobby rolls his eyes and motions for Ravi to take over helping Buck at the scene, and Buck can’t help but wonder if Cap’s just getting tired of hearing about Taylor Kelly. God knows Buck is.

The truth is, sometimes he thinks he was meant to always be ‘Buck 1.0’. It’s what he does best, after all: the sex and the longing, living in a too large apartment all by himself, sandwiched in between families and couples that have more. Unconditional more. Buck doesn’t know where he fits in there. He figures he’s greedy for something that isn’t real, that will never be real. He wants too much; he doesn’t have enough; he wants more ; he doesn’t know how to settle. 

He’s so good at asking for things, but he never knows what to do when he has them.

Ravi sighs. “What?” he asks, as if Buck is greatly inconveniencing him but being in his feels (#Drake). “You know, you’ve only been single for a few months. It’s not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, well it should be,” Buck murmurs petulantly, like a child, tossing a piece of scrap metal onto the junk truck as the owner watches with wide, tearful eyes. He knows he’s not making any sense, but he once saw Ravi run away from a baby squirrel that got a little too close for comfort, so he doesn’t really care.

There’s a pause where the only thing Buck can hear is the clunking of metal. He looks up to see Ravi chewing at his lip in contemplation, different than Hen or Bobby or Chimney. It’s nice no longer being the baby of the group, but Ravi’s suspiciously wise; sometimes, Buck even believes his schtick about reincarnation. 

“If you want to put yourself out there, put yourself out there,” Ravi says, shrugging. “If you don’t, don’t, and no one’s gonna care. You’re what? 30? You’re not like, withering away, Buck.”

“ You have a boyfriend,” Buck counters, trying very hard not to cross his arms and talk about his feelings instead of being on the offensive. “And you’re like…”

“I’m 25.”

“Right,” Buck says, because he totally knew that. “Do you think you’re going to marry him?”

Ravi freezes right where he’s standing. He’s still for so long that Chimney and Hen are able to make their way over from the ambulance and join their little ring of despair and marriage and despair. In the distance, Buck can hear Athena trying to placate, (read: talk sense into), some old man whose Tesla got bumped in the accident.

“Hey,” Chimney says, smacking his gum. He puts a hand on Ravi’s forehead and Ravi startles like a wild cat. “Looking a little pale there, Panikkar.”

Ravi, predictably, does not respond. Instead, because he’s filled with ideas of revenge and not forgiveness, he narrows his eyes at Buck. “Why don’t you get a boyfriend then?” Ravi asks him. “Since you wanna play games.”

“Because I’m homophobic,” Buck replies drily. “Obviously. God.”

Hen rolls her eyes. “One of these days,” she warns him, ducking around Buck to make her way back to the ladder truck, “that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble.”

Buck grins wide and winks at her, though he thinks maybe it comes off like he’s seizing. “My mouth gets me a lot of things,” he replies, and everyone who hears him groans, though Ravi gives him a reluctant— very reluctant—fist bump.

“118, time to go!” Bobby calls, herding them back to the truck like a sheep dog while Chimney talks about this new sourdough starter recipe he’s been working on with Maddie and Ravi fires back something about marriage like he’s projecting and Buck doesn’t think about this call anymore until he does.

The firehouse is dead silent the next morning. Except, Buck notices, for the sound of his ex-girlfriend’s voice.

“You guys cannot seriously be watching Channel Eight,” Buck protests, bypassing the locker room entirely to head to the loft and demand some sort of reckoning for this betrayal. “I mean, first of all—”

“We are being canceled on Twitter,” Ravi says, dimly, staring at the TV screen like he can change the channel with his eyes. “So please shut up.”

Buck blinks, but it seems like no more information is forthcoming. He thinks he should have a sinking feeling in his stomach—being canceled on Twitter seems like a pretty big deal, (though he’s not really sure what the cancellation entails: deactivating his account? execution?)—but he’s just confused. “What?”

Bobby is standing behind Chimney, Hen, and Ravi, who are sitting on the couch. He doesn’t look angry, but he sighs like he can’t really believe this is happening. “You’re being canceled on Twitter,” he repeats. “And maybe by the Fire Chief.”

“Oooh, I follow his private,” Chimney says nonsensically, pulling out his phone. “Let me check.”

Ravi closes his eyes. “What if I sent a virus to your email.”

Hen snorts and tilts her head back so that it’s resting on the top of the couch, making eye-contact with Buck. “I told you this was going to get you in trouble.”

Buck has no object permanence and the memory of a goldfish, so he has no idea what Hen is talking about. He looks between her and Bobby and not Taylor Kelly on the screen in front of him. “What is going on ?” he repeats. “Am I being fired?”

Bobby presses his mouth into a thin line. “Not yet,” he says ominously.

Finally, because he can’t ward it off anymore, no matter how many spells Ravi mutters whenever he sees the number 8 in public, Taylor’s reporting makes its way to Buck’s ears. 

“Accusations of homophobia and misogyny aren’t to be taken lightly, Steven,” she says, ginger hair curling around her shoulders. “If the citizens of Los Angeles can’t trust their firefighters to be objective, then who can they trust?”

The screen cuts to a video of Buck from yesterday’s car crash call. There are subtitles playing underneath, but Buck doesn’t need to read them to remember what he said. Shortly after, it cuts to Ravi saying, “ Women suck,” and Buck feels vaguely nauseous. He tries Ravi’s method of changing the channel.

Chimney however, clearly has no such qualms. He bursts into laughter and waves his phone at Hen. “Look at this tweet!” he chirps. And then because looking isn’t enough, read out loud, “It’s a picture of Buck and Ravi and the girl was like, ‘ You are like papa ’. Isn’t that hilarious, Cap?”

“Uh huh,” Bobby says drily.

Ravi groans for like, the 16th time this morning and puts his head in his hands. “Man,” he sighs. “They couldn’t even think of good memes?”

“I don’t think the memes are the problem,” Bobby continues, patting Ravi’s shoulder belatedly and pronouncing ‘ memes ’ with an accent similar to a waiter in Italy asking what the hell an iced coffee is. “I’m going to talk to the Chief. I’m sure we can just tell everyone this was a big misunderstanding.”

He descends down the staircase, eyes glazed over like he can’t quite believe this is happening. Fair. Buck can’t either. He maneuvers over to the chair and stands there for a second before slumping into it. Hen is still laughing at him. 

“We could just tell people Ravi has a boyfriend,” she suggests, snickering. “Or that Buck is literally bisexual.”

“Oh my god,” Ravi says, in a semi-dazed state. “Sebastian is going to kill me.”

“I can’t believe she’d do this,” Buck says. He can’t. It’s Taylor, but they had a good run; she’s a terrible person, but he bought her flowers a couple of times so this feels like a major betrayal in the face of a lavender bouquet. (How was he supposed to know she’s allergic to lavender? Who the heck is allergic to lavender ?)

“I can,” Chimney says.

“It’s not like—she’s—it’s not even a story,” Buck continues protesting, ignoring everything Chimney and Ravi have to say. “Once people get news that she’s just being vindictive to her ex-boyfriend, she’ll, like, lose her job. Right?”

“It’s Channel Eight,” Ravi comments. “Once I talked to the camera man. He says they don’t really have high standards.” He gestures to Taylor Kelly for emphasis.

“Wow,” Buck says. “Maybe you do hate women.”

There’s a brief moment of silence during which Taylor drones on about her next story until it cuts to a Hildy advertisement. Hen reaches over and shuts it off. Chimney takes the opportunity to make coffee and he asks Ravi if he wants a shot of Jack Daniels in his latte.

Buck’s sort of afraid that a reporter might appear out of nowhere and film a bit about workplace alcoholism, which, missed the boat on that one. Hen, who shoots Buck a suspiciously concerned glance, seems to feel the same way. 

“I don’t think you understand,” she says. “This is a big deal. You two could get in serious trouble with the Chief.” 

“Buck is always in serious trouble with the Chief.”

“Ravi.”

“Sorry,” he says, and then turns to look at Buck, who doesn’t really know what else to do but shrug in response. Ravi continues, “Do you think a notes app apology would work?”

Everyone starts talking over each other. Buck adds to the conversation, but he isn’t really paying much attention. He’s not—look, he’s not mad at Taylor. Taylor’s just doing her job; Buck knew who she was when they started dating.

But there’s a bitter taste in his mouth with her name on it. Buck, who does his best to be a good person and isn’t very great at being a good boyfriend. Looking back on it, revenge was inevitable from her. He should’ve been more worried about Taylor taking the 118 down with him.

Bobby returns to the loft with a grim expression on his face. Ravi turns pale in anticipation. 

“There’s a solution,” Cap says, looking directly at Buck. “But you’re really not going to like it.”

Buck isn’t surprised. He figures that’s what happens when your semi-famous ex-girlfriend wages a public smear campaign against you. “Just spit it out, Cap.”

Bobby sighs. He looks no better than he did before he called the Chief. “Channel Eight wants to run a story on the 118,” he says. “And they want Taylor to cover it.”

Another beat of silence. Another groan from Ravi. He puts his head in his hands and flails dramatically on the couch. “We’re never beating the allegations.”

They have an emergency dinner at Bobby and Athena’s to discuss their options.

Okay, well it’s not technically an emergency dinner so much as it was planned in advance to celebrate one of the hundred things that need celebrating at this firehouse. Buck thinks it has something to do with May’s 100th day at dispatch, but she’s been texting someone all night. Or scrolling through Twitter and informing them of how many ‘ Your fav is problematic: the LAFD ’ threads she’s come across.

“Look,” Buck says, “Anyone can say that they’re bi.” They’ve been talking about it for half an hour and he still feels like his head is spinning in conjunction with the earth, rotating at the speed of, you know, the earth. “I’d have to date a guy to prove it.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Hen interjects, but Chimney waves a hand at her. 

Hen, who doesn’t appreciate being waved at, smacks his hand with a serving spoon. Bobby sighs and gets up to grab a clean one. He gave up on trying to control the conversation 15 minutes ago and is now staring silently at his mashed potatoes.

“You’ve dated guys, Buck,” Karen points out, backing up her wife. “Even if you hadn’t, you’re still bisexual. I don’t see why you’re so insistent that no one will believe you.”

“You should get a nose piercing,” May says helpfully, while texting one-handed. “All bisexuals have nose piercings.”

“All they know is charge they phone, eat hot chip, and lie.”

May points her phone at Ravi and nods in solemn agreement. “Exactly. Just listen to us and nothing will go wrong.”

Buck contemplates this for all of one second. “So, anyway, back to my original plan.” He leans forward, jostling Chimney’s plate in the process. “I need to find a guy to date and then Taylor can film her little exposé about real life bisexual people and everyone is happy. Ravi.”

Ravi looks back at him cautiously. “Evan.”

“Not my name.”

Ravi shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“Whatever. Date me.”

Hen snorts. Ravi frowns. Buck’s not above just lying and forcing Ravi to catch up with the program as Taylor asks him questions about how they got together. Bobby chooses that moment to return from the kitchen. “No workplace harassment.”

“We’re not at work,” Chimney points out. Maddie flicks his shoulder. 

“I didn’t think regular harassment had to be outlawed,” Bobby says drily, “Seeing as it’s part of California state law. But I suppose that was asking for too much. No forcing your coworkers to date you.”

“Fine,” Buck replies. He turns back to Ravi who’s already got an unimpressed look on his face. “Ravi, please date me.”

“Uh, no,” Ravi says, picking at his green beans like he’s unsure of how he’s supposed to eat them. “I have a boyfriend. And also like, standards.”

Athena snorts. “You’re in this too,” she reminds him. “Word’s gonna spread that the 118’s misogynistic. They’re going to call for you to be fired.”

“Who is ‘they’ ?” Buck asks at the same time as Ravi’s, ‘How is that a bad thing, exactly? ’. “Wait, so you’re saying that he’s got to, what, date a woman?”

Maddie, presumably unable to hold her silence any longer, starts giggling hysterically. 

Not for the first time that day, Buck refuses to think about the implications. He feels distant from it all—like none of this is actually happening. Maddie bursting into nervous laughter is exactly how every nerve in his body has felt for the last 48 hours.

“I am a friend of women,” Ravi announces, like he’s about to break into a recitation of the Succession script. Something along the lines of: We must overthrow the culture of corruption that silences women. “But I have a boyfriend.”

“For now,” Bobby mutters. Ravi shoots him a horrified look.

“What does—” he stutters. “Hey, what does that mean?”

Everyone makes various noises of comfort but no one actually replies. “There’s this guy at the 147,” Chimney interjects instead. “Eddie Diaz. I’m sure he’d be down. He’s gay too.”

Hen sighs. “Buck’s not even gay.”

“To you,” Chimney replies.

Ravi, who’s apparently figured out how to eat his green bean, taps on the table nervously. “I just feel like there are other options,” he says. “I mean, even if Buck does date this Eddie guy, that doesn’t really solve the ‘women’ issue.”

May narrows her eyes at him from across the table. “So you admit women are an issue.”

“Would you quit,” Ravi snaps back, sounding ridiculously southern all of a sudden. He’s 5 years older than May, but seeing as May is incredibly mature and Ravi is incredibly…something, Buck isn’t very surprised when they start bickering.

“Eddie’s got a friend,” Chimney interrupts again, because apparently he wrote the Wikipedia article on this guy. “Lucy Donato. You’ve heard of her, right Buck?”

Buck blinks and looks up from where he’s typing variations of ‘ Eddie Diaz’ into the Instagram search bar. “Lucy like the Lucy I made out with at the bar one time?”

“Exactly,” Chimney chimes. “You’re like best friends already!”

Chimney sounds enthusiastic enough, and May clearly doesn’t really have a stake in what’s happening here, but everyone else digests this in silence. For all of Ravi and Hen’s protests, Buck really sees no other path forward. This is the only way to survive the attack of cancel culture and come out the other end. He has to date this stranger, and he’ll die trying.

“Why doesn’t this Eddie guy have any social media?” Buck grumbles, waving his phone around in demonstration. “Kinda suspicious, if you ask me.”

“Good thing no one’s asking,” Chimney starts. “You—”

Maddie places a hand on his arm to cut him off. They look at each other so fondly that Buck kind of wants to be sick. (He’s not jealous, obviously). 

“Buck,” she says, calmly, patiently, and a hundred other wonderful things Buck’s older sister is, even if she is in a happy, wonderous relationship right in front of his salad. “Chim knows the guy. And it’s just a few weeks. Not the end of the world, right? Who knows, maybe it’ll be good for you. Get you back in the dating game.”

Buck is half-through nodding in resignation when Ravi pales slightly—or attempts to. It doesn’t really work out.

“Jesus,” he mutters, looking down at his phone and tapping through Instagram Stories. “I think someone made an infographic about the 118.”

Wordlessly, Chimney texts Buck Eddie’s phone number. 

Since then, walking into the station feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

Buck can’t even make his way to the loft without a pointed scoff or snort in his direction from another firefighter. He has no idea why Ravi isn’t getting the same treatment—except, well, it’s Ravi and everyone loves him.

Not Buck though. You won’t catch him slipping.

This time, though, trouble finds him as soon as he steps out of his Jeep. He clutches his duffle bag to him and narrows his eyes at his cell phone.

Eddie still hasn’t texted him back. Buck’s trying not to think about it. 

There are lives at stake, a tiny voice in his head informs him, whenever he checks for a new text. People are dying!

People are not, in fact, dying, but the news coverage has been consistent for days now. Buck can’t turn on the television without hearing his name slandered on Live TV. He thinks it’s a wonder that his parents haven’t heard the news all the way in Pennsylvania.

Then again, who knows what side they’d be on. Buck has flashbacks to the In This House We Believe : yard sign on his childhood neighbor’s lawn with Love Is Love crossed out. The true Pennsylvanian liberal.

He’s still debating it when he enters the firehouse—judging the merits of, “ But you’ll marry a woman. Right, Evan? ” when he came out. And when he bumps into an object that isn’t so much an object as it is a human person, he only just manages not to yelp out loud.

“Excuse me,” the man says, fluffy brown hair and sharp eyes and fingers twitching by his side like he wants to place them on his hips demandingly. “You should watch where you’re going.”

Buck blinks, scrubs at the back of his left ear. When no name pops into his head, he blinks again. “Who are you?”

The man squints. Up in the loft, Buck can hear Ravi protesting about something. Loudly. “Are you serious?”

Buck shuffles his duffle bag up higher onto his shoulder. He looks over the man again; can’t miss the shape of his jawline and the impatient huff he lets out and the mole beneath his left eye that makes Buck want to do something insane like reach out and touch it.

Something tugs at Buck’s stomach. He stares for a second too long.

“Well,” Buck says, “I think I’d remember.”

The man opens his mouth to retort—something, if Buck had to guess, about homophobia and Taylor Kelly—but he notices something behind Buck. He turns to see Chimney grinning widely, walking towards them with outstretched arms like a mafia boss.

“Buck! Eddie!” Chimney chirps, way too chipper for how early it is. “How’s it going? Get uncanceled yet?”

“For the record,” the other man—Eddie—replies, “I was never canceled in the first place.”

Buck opens his mouth to say something, protest maybe, before promptly choking on his own spit. He doubles over dramatically and Chimney tentatively whacks Buck directly on his spinal cord.

“Don’t die,” Chimney protests, weakly. “I mean, it would solve a lot of our pr—but yeah, don’t die.”

“You’re Eddie?” Buck demands, stabbing a finger at his chest like they do in the movies. Suddenly, the man in front of him becomes a lot less attractive (lie). “You didn’t respond to any of my texts!” 

Bewilderment flickers across Eddie’s face. It’s a good look; Buck thinks he wants to kiss it off him and then promptly thinks about jumping off of something high. He can’t be that lonely.

It’s a ridiculous sentiment, though, because he takes yet another glance in Eddie’s direction and turns out, uh, yes he can.

“You said, hey, two exclamation marks, ready to rumble?” Eddie quotes. “I don’t—don’t you introduce yourself to strangers?”

Buck does something strange with his eyelashes. “Maybe I felt like we already knew each other,” he replies, with a grin.”

Eddie doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. It does something to the rapid heartbeat fluttering in Buck’s chest. “Really?” Eddie asks. “That’s what you’re going with?”

Chimney looks back and forth between them; Buck can only see it out of the corner of his eye. “Cool!” he says again, like Buck and Eddie just confessed their unwavering commitment to the bit and aren’t eyeing each other warily like feral cats. “I’m uh, have you seen Ravi and Lucy yet because I’m kinda nervous—”

“What do you mean you don’t believe in subtraction?” Ravi’s voice rings into the Apparatus Bay. Then, quieter. “You know what, I don’t think this is going to work out. I’m a big math head.”

There’s a response, but Buck can’t make it out. He shares a glance with Chimney, and then they turn to face Eddie, eyebrows raised. Bobby makes an appearance over the railing like some sort of God.

“Hurry and change out, you three” he calls, with a grimace that he can’t hide. So true, they’re all doomed. “So we can go over, uh, semantics.”

“Semantics,” Eddie muses. Chimney nudges them both towards the locker room. “This sure is a situation y’all have on your hands, huh?”

Buck narrows his eyes, because he’s nothing if not antagonistic. If he and Ravi have to suffer through Lucy and this really, really, just, I mean, Jesus hot guy, then they’re going to go down swinging. “Why are you speaking like that?”

Eddie looks affronted. “Like what ?”

“Like you’re Daniel Craig in Knives Out.”

“I’m from Texas.”

“Oh,” Buck pauses, because that’s a much more reasonable answer than, I slip into southern accents when I’m nervous. “Well, yeehaw then, cowboy.” 

Eddie blinks. Once, twice; Chimney hums and whistles at the same time like one-man background music. 

“Alright,” Eddie says, tapping twice on the locker right next to Buck with the name Eddie Diaz on it. Though that’s probably for another Eddie Diaz, or something. “What’s your problem, man?”

Buck scowls. He can’t help it. Logically, he knows he should be grateful—Eddie’s really only at the 118 to help Buck out, and biting the hand that feeds him only worked until he got out of Pennsylvania, though Buck’s not even sure it worked back then.

Eddie’s done nothing wrong, and Buck’s only known him for all of 5 minutes, but he can read it in Eddie’s cautious tiptoeing: he’s used to cleaning up messes, used to dealing. He’s used to making do with what he has and he’s used to things like Buck, that come slightly chipped at the edges.

Buck’s never really known what to do with good things. He doesn’t know where to put them where they won’t break.

It’s a damn good thing that this whole situation hinges on their relationship not being real.

“Nothing,” Buck replies, through his teeth. Eddie doesn’t call him out on it. Chimney’s whistling gets louder. “I, um, how did Chim even get you to agree to this?”

Eddie tilts his head and Buck feels distinctly dizzy. The corners of his eyes nearly crinkle when he smiles, tight-lipped. “He asked,” Eddie says. “I thought it’d be funny, and your Insta wasn’t half-bad.” He laughs a little. Lucy, they paid.”

“Paid,” Chimney repeats, incredulously. “Oh man, wait till Ravi hears what they’re doing with tax-payer money.”

“Ravi?” Eddie says, pronouncing the name slightly off-kilter but better than Cap does. “Wait till the people of Los Angeles hear about it.”

Buck snorts. “Don’t let my ex hear you say that.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Taylor Kelly,” Chimney clarifies. “We don’t hate women, but we have a strong dislike for that one.”

“You guys have a lot of issues,” Eddie comments, and they change out before making their way to the loft. Buck does not look at Eddie’s abs. He means it.

“Checklist,” Hen is saying as Buck bounces onto the couch next to her, Eddie trailing warily behind. “Backstory, list of facts, go private on Instagram.”

“You’re kidding,” two voices say in unison. Buck cranes his head back to see Ravi and Lucy sitting at the breakfast bar, Bobby cooking something in the kitchen. 

Eddie looks at Lucy with something like a fond expression—much, much, kinder than Buck would ever direct at Ravi—and Buck fights the urge to scowl.

He loses. Ravi glares in his direction like it’s Buck’s fault he has to fake date the girl that Buck made out with once, like they couldn’t have picked any of the hundreds of women that Buck didn’t kiss.

“Donato,” Buck says, totally cool and suave, in her direction. He nods his head, once. 

Ravi’s glare only intensifies. “Great,” he mutters. “It hasn’t even been an hour and Buck’s already trying to steal my girlfriend. Maybe you should date Lucy.”

“Stop trying to get out of this,” Lucy says. “I’ve already picked out wedding rings, honey.”

“Quit it.”

“My little jelly bean cheesecake,” Lucy drawls again, grinning wide. She reaches over and pinches Ravi’s cheek, and Ravi doesn’t have the reflexes to swat at her before it’s too late. Buck can see the corner of his lip twitch upwards.

“This is going to be a mess,” Chimney says in realization, taking up purchase on the arm of the couch, right next to Hen. “Wow, this is like the best day of my life.”

Buck can just spot Eddie hovering near the railing out of the corner of his eye. He looks nervous, something Buck wouldn’t have attributed to the sure-fire confident guy from the locker room. He catches Buck’s eye.

It makes Buck feel better, for some strange reason, to know that they’re both on uneven ground with this. He’s pretty sure neither of them have fake-dated someone to be broadcast to an entire metropolitan area before, even if it can’t be that hard. He offers Eddie a tentative smile, mostly teeth.

Eddie smirks back, but Buck’s more focused on the way his shoulders settle.

He doesn’t believe what Eddie said earlier, not entirely. ‘ I thought it’d be funny’ is something you say about a five-minute prank or trying a new sitcom. It can’t be enough justification to upend your whole life at another fire station and ask your friend to join you in the endeavor; judging by the way Eddie keeps fiddling with his wrist watch, it isn’t.

Buck isn’t in the business of asking for more than he’s offered, when he’s dating someone. He’s not about to change that now.

“Taylor’s going to be here in two weeks,” Bobby announces, and Buck immediately realizes that he’s staring. At Eddie, not Bobby. (Side note: the 118 TikTok was a mistake. Buck will never unsee teenagers calling Bobby ‘zaddy’ on the public internet.)

 Bobby continues. “She cleared it with the Fire Chief, obviously. Just one shift. Nothing crazy. But, you have 14 days to make this,” he gestures at Buck and Eddie, and then tries to do the same to Ravi and Lucy and aborts it halfway. “Believable.”

“This is like high school theater all over again,” Ravi mutters.

“Oh, goody,” Lucy says. 

“By the way, I do have a boyfriend,” Ravi says, right as Bobby opens his mouth to continue. He looks frustrated by the whole situation. Buck wouldn’t blame him if it wasn’t al this fault. “So, like, what are the rules here. Just, going on dates?”

“I’m not holding your hand,” Lucy says immediately. 

Ravi looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “Good,” he replies emphatically. He crosses himself, like he’s warding something off. This time, when Lucy shoves him, he grins.

“Oh my god,” Buck mutters, because there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach. Bobby seems to share the sentiment, paling slightly. “We are so fucked.”

Ravi and Lucy turn twin glares at him. “We are not,” she says decisively. “Ravi and I—we’re like so convincing.”

“Have you ever had to sneak past your immigrant parents to take a girl to prom in the 11th grade?” Ravi demands, arms crossed. “I didn’t think so. You will never be Florence Pugh. You are Harry Styles at best.” He swallows like he’s choking down a golf ball. “Right. Babe?”

Lucy has a pinched look on her face. “Totally, babe.”

“Good God,” Hen says, underneath her breath.

“Our life,” Ravi insists, in a semi-British accent. “Our life together.”

Buck narrows his eyes. From the breakfast bar, he can see Bobby put his head in his hands. But if he was so disappointed in them, would it really still be Taco Tuesday? Exactly, checkmate.

“Are you trying to make this a competition?” Buck asks. “Because I will win.” Eddie clears his throat. “ We will win.”

“Hey, Freddie Mercury,” Chimney crows, snapping his finger at him. “Enough with the championship. Do you guys even know the first thing about each other?”

“Buck? Not yet.” Eddie steps close enough to Buck that their arms brush against each other. His gaze is focused on Chimney and Hen; Buck can’t stop looking at Eddie. Everything is terrible. There’s a quirk to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “I know enough about his ex-girlfriend, though. Isn’t this whole thing a conflict of interest?”

“You must be new around here,” Ravi says, and the alarm finally fucking rings.

The thing about Eddie is that he, for better or worse, notices things.

They get back to the station around lunch time. Buck and Ravi have been on cooking duty for the last week, which is fine except for the way Ravi scrutinizes Buck whenever it comes time to add the spices, and it’s only really a punishment because everyone and their mother knows that Buck starts weeping when he has to cut onions.

Eddie sees it, though. He catches on to the way Buck and the red onion in front of him are locked in a standoff and lets out a little amused huff, motioning for Buck to hand over the knife. It’s been less than one day, but Eddie is nice and hot and—

Well, not to sound like Ravi pre-chainsaw, but there’s only so far you can hold out against Nice Hot Guy.

“You were in the army?” Buck asks, reassigning himself to stirring the meat as Ravi gets off easy and goes to play pool with Lucy voluntarily. It’s just him and Eddie now. “Was it—I tried out for the SEALs once.”

He says it like, I auditioned to be in a play, which he knows is flippant. It’s not like he ever actually went to war, after all, but for some reason he can’t wrap his head around Eddie in Afghanistan either. It’s stupid, Buck hardly knows the guy; certainly, he has no right to make judgement calls about whether or not something is characteristic of him.

Surreptitiously, he inhales and grips the spatula a little too hard. This is stupid. This isn’t real.

“The SEALs?” Eddie repeats, raising an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“Wasn’t me,” Buck shrugs. “But anyway, before the 118 I did a whole bunch of stuff. I don’t remember much about that part anyway. Got nothing on Virginia Beach.”

Eddie looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “You surf?”

Buck replies with something that isn’t even that funny, but Eddie snorts in amusement and that familiar rapid drumbeat picks up again in Buck’s chest. He is screwed. He is done. He catches Hen’s knowing eye and remembers his comment about homophobia.

(Eddie doesn’t offer up any more information about his time in the army. Buck knows trauma well enough not to pry.)

They trade pieces of information back and forth as they assemble lunch. Eddie has two sisters and grew up in El Paso, which is in a different time zone from the rest of Texas. His abuela and tía live in Los Angeles and he tries to spend time with them once a week. He’s scared of technology and hates driving. His favorite color is blue. He loves watching telenovelas.

Eddie tells him he came out three years ago, but it wasn’t a proud thing. He tells Buck that, sure he’s dated other guys before, but he’s never really found time for a real relationship.

Buck says you make time, for these sorts of things. Eddie grins, teeth bared, and asks him what then, went wrong between him and Taylor.

“It didn’t feel right,” Buck confesses. “Taylor was, is, she’s fine. She’s not a bad person, or at least, she wasn’t a bad girlfriend, but we didn’t want the same things and…” He trails off. “I don’t know, it just felt off with her. Every single time.”

Eddie nods thoughtfully. When he speaks, it sounds more like a statement than a question. “But you wanted to make it work.”

“I had to,” Buck replies quietly. “I didn’t have anything else.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, gesturing to the loft space, where Lucy and Ravi are jabbing each other with pool sticks and Chimney is quizzing Hen for her upcoming Med School exam while texting someone (Maddie) with one hand and Bobby is doing paperwork while humming to himself softly. “You and I know that can’t be true.”

Buck tries to laugh, but it comes out a bit choked. He doesn’t really speak about what happened between him and Taylor to anyone but his therapist. He knows the 118 doesn’t like her—they never did—but there’s always an undercurrent to it: “ You should’ve known better. People like her never change. What were you thinking ?”

Truthfully, he’s never had anyone defend him without tacking on some sort of blame. There’s no judgment in Eddie’s tone and Buck doesn't know how to reconcile with that. It’s a terrible feeling.

Buck inhales.

“So what are the rules here?” Buck asks, neatly side-stepping the earlier conversation. “We don’t have to—I mean, we can take it slow or whatever. We have two weeks, it’s not like…we don’t have to kiss or anything.”

The tips of Eddie’s ears flush red. He looks anywhere but Buck’s face. It’s an endearing expression, if mostly because Eddie’s frowning like an old grump while he blushes. 

“We can hold hands and stuff,” he mutters, searching the ceiling, forcing the words out like they’re physically painful. Buck doesn’t know how Eddie stumbles into dates, but clearly his flirting could use some work. “We’ll be better prepared than Ravi and Lucy, anyway.”

Buck clamps down on his lip so he doesn’t burst into nervous laughter. Baring your soul is way less awkward than whatever the hell this conversation is. “Sure, yeah. Sounds good.”

Eddie looks like he’s about to stab himself with the chopping knife. “Uh, pet names?”

“You can call me ‘Evan’,” Buck suggests. “Taylor used to call me that all the time.”

Eddie raises one cutting eyebrow. “Do you want to be called Evan?”

Buck shrugs noncommittally. Eddie takes it for the no that it is.

“We’ll figure something else out,” he says, nudging Buck’s shoulder and shooting a pointed glance at the tortillas. “You’re going to warm those up, right?”

Buck tilts his head and feigns confusion. “Huh?”

Eddie rolls his eyes in response and motions for Buck to shove over. Buck exhales when Eddie’s back is turned. For some reason, it comes out shaky.

Buck tries not to think about that too much.

—

the boyfriend has officially met lucy btw

so we’re winning

how is ANY of this a win Ravi

it is now

.

you and eddie get it on yet

not like

oh, you know

he’s fine

we’re fine

has Lucy said anything

about him

oh wow.

—

So the thing is, Buck can’t stop thinking about Eddie.

It’s late and he’s alone in his studio apartment and he really should sleep if he doesn’t want to be a walking mess on shift tomorrow morning, but it doesn’t come easy these days. Everything about Buck’s life in Los Angeles was hard won—his place at the 118, his sister, his life—it only makes sense that his happiness falls along those lines.

He wants Eddie, he realizes. And that’s fine. He’s used to wanting things, really. Some days, that’s all he knows, caught somewhere in between Maddie’s happiness and Bobby’s pride. He wants, he wants, he wants.

But Eddie—Eddie’s different, somehow. Eddie understands him, and Buck should hate it. He’s never wanted to be understood so much as he’s wanted to be loved. Eddie’s a pipe dream; Buck thinks he’s getting desperate.

This is all fake, after all.

Studio apartments are shit. They’re a clear reminder that only one person lives here. Buck pushes himself off his bed to go grab a glass of water. He steps over the stair that Taylor would make creak whenever she came home late.

When he gets back upstairs and goes to set his alarm, his phone lights up with a new message. He squints at it—no profile picture or silly emoji (Ravi). 

It’s Eddie. Unless Buck is hallucinating. The first message says: Are you up? Buck’s hitting call before he reads the second.

“You better not start this call with ‘come over’,” Buck warns, grinning into the darkness like a total idiot.

Eddie barks out a laugh. Buck lets it warm him all the way down to his toes. “I wasn’t going to,” he responds. “I was just bored. Went through my contacts and no one else picked up, so.”

 Buck thinks the words should sting. They don’t, really. He’s not jaded enough to think that any of this—calling someone after you’ve known them one day—is normal. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think Eddie was flirting with him.

He does know better though. Chimney once mentioned that Eddie doesn’t really have time for serious relationships. Buck never asked what it is that keeps him so busy.

“Funny,” Buck teases, because what else is he going to say? You are so hot and sexy and I want to kiss you so bad. “Bored, huh? What’d you do after shift?”

Eddie sighs. “Before I say this, I want you to know that I was with my abuela.” He pauses, maybe for dramatic effect. “ We watched a telenovela, maybe two. Make fun of me and I’m hanging up.”

“Why would I ever make fun of you?” Buck asks, wondering if Eddie can see the mocking bat of his eyelashes. “Tell me about them.”

Eddie does; he doesn’t say ‘ You wouldn’t get it ’ or keep from adding in his own running commentary. He has a nice voice to listen to—calm and sharp—and Buck is sinking into it. If nothing else, Eddie seems like he would make a good friend.

“It’s dramatic,” he finishes. “We all knew the housekeeper was the murderer but it was entertaining, I guess. What have you been up to?”

It’s all small talk, but just barely, scratching the surface of something…something. Buck finds he doesn’t mind all that much regardless. 

“Nothing, really,” he replies honestly. “Went on a run. Made dinner. Talked to my sister on the phone a bit.” 

Even he can hear how lonely it all sounds. Before Eddie can reply, or worse, make a noise in sympathy,  he gets out, “But hey, do you want to grab dinner tomorrow, or something?”

There’s a pause. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Buck holds his breath. “We’re already dating,” he says, because somehow that’s the truth in this web of falsities. “Besides, what other way to get to know each other?”

He imagines Eddie smiling. He hopes Eddie’s smiling. He wonders if Ravi and Lucy have gone out to eat yet before firmly banishing the thought from his mind. 

“Yeah,” Eddie replies finally, just a hint of amusement coming through the phone speaker. “Yeah, I’ll go on a date with you, Buckley. You’re driving though.”

Buck snorts, letting adrenaline wash over him in waves. “I figured.” Something familiar tugs at his chest. The urge to talk and talk and see if he can push Eddie away. “I crashed my motorcycle as a kid, you know.”

To his credit, Eddie doesn’t stumble. “A kid?”

“Okay, smartass. No, I was 19. Bought it with my college tuition money after I dropped out.” This would be so much easier as a text conversation where Buck could tack on lmao at the end and have everything be less concerning. “Or, maybe before I dropped out. Can’t remember.”

Taylor would’ve said, “ Does it matter ?” 

Eddie only asks,  “Did you get hurt?”

Buck isn’t used to this gentleness. He thinks it could kill him. He thinks he would let it. “Just some scrapes. Maddie was a nurse in Boston, so she patched me up.”

Neither of them mention he went to college in Hershey, Pennsylvania. Several miles away from Boston, Massachusetts. Buck waits. It’s Eddie’s move.

“I never went to college,” Eddie says. “My sisters did, or, Adri’s still there. But it didn’t really matter to my parents, I guess. They loved the idea of their son being in the army.”

Buck gets the previous question a little bit. “Did you?”

There’s a pause. “It’s okay.” And Buck doesn’t know whether Eddie’s referring to the experience, or the aftermath.

He rests his head back onto his pillow. He’s still alone in his studio apartment, but Eddie makes it better, somehow. The emptiness seems less vast when they’re on the phone. 

Still—“We should sleep,” Buck admits reluctantly. “Is that okay?”

Eddie scoffs on the other line. “You don’t have to ask permission to go to sleep,” he says. “Don’t be—”

“I know that,” Buck says. (He does). “I just want to make sure you’ll still be here tomorrow.”

Eddie laughs again. Buck wants to keep the sound in a golden locket and wear it around his neck or something equally as ridiculous. He feels his toes curl and resists the urge to melt into his bedsheets. God, he’s not used to being happy.

“Where else am I going to go?” Eddie wonders, and Buck tells himself that this could be real.

Buck isn’t used to being soft either, really.

He’s obviously not Mr. Tough Guy—he routinely cries at Hallmark movies and cannot listen to a single song on Folklore without crying, including Betty. And he tries his best to be kind; he’s a firefighter because he couldn’t live with the alternative, doesn’t know how to exist without helping people.

But he’s not used to being soft. He and Taylor didn’t do that—the holding hands and the bashful smiles. They were all sharp edges, the two of them: hookups in bar bathrooms and piercing grins. And for better or worse, it worked, until it didn’t.

This is a long-winded way of saying that when Buck gets into the station the next morning, two hours before Eddie and Lucy, he can’t fucking stop blushing.

“You are red,” Ravi comments as soon as he walks into the loft. “Why are you red? Are you sunburnt? It’s June.”

Buck gives Ravi a look. He’s not sunburnt, but—“June is a hot month,” he replies. “What’s wrong with being sunburnt in June?”

Ravi pauses, in the way he does when he wants to say something bitchy but thinks better of it. “Nothing,” he says suspiciously, and returns to reading his book.

Buck will never understand him.

“Soooo,” Hen draws out, leaning across the breakfast bar when Buck takes one of the stools. Chimney sits in the one next to him, and Bobby is chopping stirring batter curiously. Which is a strange, but true, adverb when Buck considers it. “How’s it going?”

Buck feels himself turn a shade redder. “Fine. How are you doing, Miss Henrietta?” He accepts the coffee cup she slides across the counter and does his best not to meet her eye.

Hen has never needed eye contact to make her point. “You look happy,” she comments, and God, Buck hates when she says these things because they sound like they might be true. “Did anything happen last night?”

“Hen,” Buck protests, and she raises her hands in self-defense. 

“You weren’t talking to Maddie,” Chimney adds. “And you weren’t talking to anyone in this loft, which I hope not because it’d be really weird if you were blushing because you talked to Cruz from B-shift—”

“Ugh,” Buck interrupts. He’d throw up his hands if he could without knocking the light fixture (don’t ask). “I was just talking to Eddie. It was like half an hour. Maybe less.”

Hen softens at that. It’s almost comforting enough to ignore Chimney’s entirely too delighted presence. “How’s it going?” she asks. “You two seem to click pretty well.”

Bobby hums before Buck can reply. “You know, Diaz was supposed to join the 118,” he says. “But I left for a two week vacation and the 147 Captain stole him from right under my nose. He was top of his class.”

“Of course he was,” Buck mutters. “He’s—I mean he’s good, Cap. He would’ve been a great fit.” Buck scuffs his shoes on the tile floor. “He still would be.”

“Buck,” Hen says gently, and Buck isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t have this, and Eddie Diaz is too perfect to really exist anyway, so he just offers Hen a crooked smile and pushes off the breakfast bar to walk back to the loft.

It’s hardly 7 in the morning, which means the morning is more lazy than it should be, everything quiet. Buck sits on the couch across from Ravi. Chimney and Hen join them after a moment. He hopes everything about him screams, Do not ask me about last night!

Ravi, who has a terrible inability to read context clues, narrows his eyes at him, scowling when Buck digs the toe of his boot into Ravi’s shin. “If you keep being an annoying white man, you are going to create so many more problems and issues.”

Buck pokes at him again. “I think I liked it better when you were scared of the chainsaw.”

“I think I liked you better when I wasn’t part of the 118,” Ravi says. “Check-freaking-mate.”

Bobby makes a soft but wounded noise from the breakfast bar. A series of emotions passes over Ravi’s face. No one is immune to Bobby’s dadism. 

“Sorry,” Ravi mutters, not sheepishly because Ravi never does anything sheepishly, really, but like he’s only 25, which he is. Kids, these days. “The 118 is a great environment and I love coming here every day.”

“We know,” Bobby replies drily. “So much so that you’re repenting for hating women on live television.”

Ravi blinks. “Please stop trying to convert me.”

“No one’s trying to—”

“Hey, hey,” Chimney interrupts. “Didn’t I say you would like Lucy? Don’t you like Lucy? Isn’t she great?”

“This feels like a trick question,” Ravi replies, turning back to his book and not, like, answering it at all. “I mean, we didn’t stay up talking on the phone all night, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Motherfucker.

“It’s okay if you like him, Buck,” Hen says, carefully, because the 118 doesn’t know how to quit when they’re ahead. “That’s not a bad thing.”

“I actually don’t need any more therapy,” Buck replies sharply. “Thanks.”

No one says anything for a moment. Buck hates this feeling—overwhelming dread for something that isn’t even worth worrying about. Eddie agreed to fake date him. Nothing more. Buck won’t take advantage of the situation any more than he already is. He thinks, even if whatever this is is reciprocated, it’s only inevitable that it’ll end with disaster.

“We’re going to do inventory,” Chimney says, gesturing at himself and Hen. The TV blares something about Toyotathon. “Ravi, don’t forget, you’re on laundry duty.”

Ravi looks heavenward but gets up dutifully. “I’m always on laundry duty,” he doesn’t say. Maybe because he’s actually bought into Christianity and thinks this is what repenting means.

They leave and Buck tilts his head back until it rests on the frame of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Bobby places a hand on Buck’s shoulder. No one is immune to the dadism. 

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, kid,” Cap says, like Buck knows anything different.

Buck thinks Eddie missed the memo on his spiraling tendencies.

They’re at a call—nothing special, a couple stuck on the roof of a four flood apartment building with the door jammed. The ladder from the truck reaches all the way there, and Lucy and Buck argue about which one of them gets to climb it.

Eventually, because they’re seconds away from drawing a crowd, Bobby orders Lucy to get the girl and Buck to get the guy. Lucy tells Buck not to be too homophobic about it and Buck sticks his tongue out at her like a child.

Hen and Chimney are on a Med call on the other side of the city. Eddie and Ravi are on the walkies while Bobby does crowd control. Buck supposes that it’s his fault the citizens of Los Angeles have taken a newfound interest in their Fire Department, but thankfully, no one points that out. 

He tugs on his gloves and fastens a couple of water bottles to his harness before securing it. When he turns, Eddie’s already looking at him—sarcastic smile and eyes that blaze in direct sunlight. They’re only a few feet apart, but Buck isn’t going to bridge the gap. He holds his breath.

Eddie steps closer and reaches a hand out to tug at Buck’s harness, almost subconsciously. “The Captain at the 147 let a coworker of mine use a broken harness once,” he says, double-checking the safety clips. “Never really got over it.”

“You’re not going over Lucy’s,” Buck accuses him.

He expects Eddie to say something like, Well, that’s because she would bite me if I did and can’t you hear her betting Ravi she can scale the ladder in under a minute? But all he does is flash Buck a sharp grin. 

“Yeah,” he agrees, pulling at Buck’s heart strings one last time before motioning for him to get to work.

Ravi stares at Buck with wide eyes, looking entirely like he’s about to say something too perceptive that’s going to send Buck into an early grave. Before he can, Buck climbs the ladder.

“Men will literally climb 80 feet into the air to avoid communicating,” he hears Lucy mutter.

Buck scales the ladder easily enough. It’s ridiculously hot outside but not windy. Buck will die of heat exhaustion before he flies off into the wind like Flat Stanley, that paper ass bitch.

He pauses near the top to adjust his grip, catching his breath. His radio crackles to life; somehow, Buck knows who it’ll be before the voice comes through.

“Enjoying the view, Buckley?” Eddie teases, but there’s a hint of something else below it. Why are you taking a break? Buck hears. What’s wrong?

He huffs out a breath. “You try scaling this in a hundred degree heat,” he replies. It comes out fond. Too fond. Buck has to swallow and shake his head before he continues. “Must be nice down on the ground, Diaz.”

He expects to hear Ravi— “None of us get paid enough to hear you flirt on an open channel.”—but it doesn’t come. Buck doesn’t know what to make of that. He keeps climbing.

When he gets up to the roof, the couple doesn’t look much like they’re together, standing a few feet apart. The girl has her arms crossed, glaring at something invisible off in the distance. The guy doesn’t look much better, mouth twitching in something like bitter amusement, resolutely not looking in his girlfriend’s direction.

Okay.

“Hey guys,” Buck says, stepping onto the roof cautiously. He clips on his harness. Once a roof collapse, always a roof collapse or however it goes. “My name’s Buck. How about y’all?”

He hands them each a bottle of water. The girl takes hers first and lets the guy grab his own. “Ashley,” she replies, and despite her expression, her voice is calm. “That’s Michael.”

It’s nearly imperceptible, but Buck’s been in his fair share of relationships. He knows what the downturn of her mouth means. He offers Michael some water and does his best not to scrutinize him for any signs of trouble.

“You’re not going to unlock the door?” Michael asks, taking a sip. “I mean, you don’t have any tools. What is—what’s the plan, exactly?”

“We have no way of knowing why the door’s jammed,” Buck replies, glancing over to see how far Lucy is from the top. “We’re going to climb the ladder back down. I’ll be right behind you. My friend will be right behind Ashley. Nothing to worry about.”

Ashley looks skeptical, even if she doesn’t say anything. Lucy makes her way onto the roof with a flourish and a razor-sharp grin. She looks confident and put together and Buck suddenly remembers that she’s been at the 147 much longer than Eddie. He wonders how she feels about their captain not checking over his firefighters’ harnesses.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” she chirps, which is just a quintessentially white thing to say, but Michael doesn’t comment on it, face slightly pale. 

Ashley’s lips twitch. “Michael’s afraid of heights,” she says finally, almost like it hurts her to know it. “I can go first.”

“Ash—” Michael starts.

“It’s fine,” she interrupts. “It’s…it’s whatever. Let’s just get off the roof. God.”

Buck shares a glance with Lucy. She shrugs in response, wiping the palms of her hands onto her pants to get rid of the sweat.

“I’ll go first,” Lucy tells Ashley. “And I’ll tell you when to step on. I’ll be right behind you the entire time.”

It’s enough to send them moving. Buck teeters near the edge as they descend, unsure of how to make conversation with someone who clearly just had a bad argument with his partner and is also terrified of not being stuck on a roof anymore. 

“Okay,” Buck starts, holding out a hand in a way that he hopes is calming. Not to treat his victim like a spooked horse or anything, but it seems to grab his attention so whatever. He’s a horse girl now. “It’ll be fine, dude. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Plus, my team has a safety cushion down below.”

Michael exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair in anxiety. “Today has been the worst day ever.”

Buck remembers the day his leg got crushed by a firetruck and the day he threw up blood all over Bobby and Athena’s patio. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “What happened with you two? Other than the roof, I mean.”

Michael glances at Buck, and then back down at the ground 80 feet below him. Buck angles himself so that he stops looking. “It’s kinda ridiculous.”

“Try me,” Buck replies. Lucy and Ashley are about half-way down. They’ve got time to kill. He wants to say, “ I just broke up with my girlfriend because she reported a news story that could’ve gotten my friends killed, ” but somehow, he holds off.

“I thought…” Michael trails off, still clearly beating himself up about it. “Well, long story short, she thought we were dating—we had been dating—for a month or so now, but I had no idea. I thought, you know, I was going to ask her on a date on the roof. I did, and it—” He sighs. “It all just kinda backfired.”

Buck gets that. He’s not used to things working out the first or second or even third time. He upgrades into Buck 2 or 3.0 as a second chance—a lifeline, almost. But—

“Do you like her?” he finds himself asking.

Michael’s eyes widen a bit, but he doesn’t question the interrogation. “Y-yeah,” he stutters. “Yeah, I mean it’s—it’s Ash. She’s—what’s not to like? She’s perfect. And I just feel like I struck out.”

“Buck,” his radio crackles. It’s Eddie. “You’re good to go.”

He turns back to Michael. “What did she say?” he prompts.

“Who?”

“Ashley,” Buck clarifies. “Did she say you struck out? Did she say it was over?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then it’s not,” Buck replies, unsure of where this advice is coming from. “You gotta—I mean, have more confidence in yourself, man. If she thought you two were already dating, then she obviously likes you.”

“Buckley,” Eddie drones. “Any day now.”

Buck feels his mouth curve upwards. He bites at his bottom lip, but it’s useless. Michael looks at him with a suspicious expression. 

“Coming,” Buck replies. “Don’t worry about me too much, Eds.”

Eddie doesn’t bother with a retort. Buck thinks the back of his neck looks suspiciously red when he and Michael touch down.

Buck shows up at Eddie’s front door at 6:30 sharp. 

He tosses his keys in his hand, digging them into his palm on the landings; a reminder. Eddie had cajoled him into driving last night, but Buck’s on his front porch now, dressed in a shirt and ironed pants, and it hits him that he’s going to be alone in a car for an indeterminable amount of time (20 minutes there, 22 minutes back, according to Google Maps).

He knocks. Holds his breath. Wonders, belatedly, if Eddie has a dog or chose not to stay in an apartment for the hell of it. 

The door opens. Buck tries really hard to be normal about it.

“Hey,” Eddie greets him. He doesn’t really let Buck peek into the house before he’s shutting it and pulling something out from behind him. “Got these for you. Don’t let it be said that I was a bad date.”

They’re flowers. They’re fucking flowers and Eddie Diaz is holding a small bouquet of tulips out to Buck like anyone’s ever done that before, wearing a black button down and furrowing his eyebrows until crinkles threaten to appear by his eyes.

“Buck,” Eddie says, smiling lopsidedly. “Are you going to take them?”

Buck feels like he’s just been run over by another ladder truck. “Since you asked so nicely,” he manages, taking the flowers in a vice grip that he hopes isn’t noticeable. “You haven’t asked where we’re going.”

“Well, as long as you’re not taking me to The Venue,” Eddie says. “But I figure that’s a bit fancy for a first date.”

“Bad memories?” Buck asks. They make their way to the Jeep and Buck remembers Maddie drilling first date manners into him. He opens Eddie’s door and gets rewarded with the softest smile yet. 

“I guess,” Eddie replies, once Buck’s settled into the driver’s seat. “I made a speech about chocolate, my wife asked me for a divorce. You know how it goes.”

Buck doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t think anyone knows what to say to that. Maybe something like, A bit heavy for a first fake date, don’t you think?  

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is, “I thought you were gay.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Therapy,” he explains. “I loved Shannon, but it just never—”

“Felt right,” Buck finishes, tapping his fingers on the wheel with more focus than it needs. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

There’s a brief silence, but it’s not an awkward one. The radio is on low, humming some playlist that Spotify created especially for Buck, and Eddie sighs in the passenger seat, looking out the window at an early summer sunset. 

He looks good, like this. He always does—whenever Buck’s glanced at him over the last two days—but there’s something relaxed about his posture. The result of therapy, maybe. Though a large part of Buck wants to believe it has something to do with them.

“Right,” Eddie says suddenly, sitting up. “Since we’ve gotten that out of the way—”

“Diaz, if you think this is all my damage, you’ve got a big storm coming.”

“Now that that’s out of the way,” Eddie repeats forcefully. “What’s your deal?”

“What, because you didn’t get enough of it last night?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Buck can see Eddie give him a dry look. “You can’t have it both ways,” Eddie tells him. “And I’m asking, aren’t I?”

The truth of it is, Buck isn’t used to this. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be wanted—about here is when all his dates would stop asking questions, when Buck would let them. He doesn’t know how to reconcile with someone who wants to know him, and doesn’t want anything in return.

“20 questions,” Buck decides. “We each get a turn. What’s your favorite color?”

It dissolves quickly. By the time they’re seated at the restaurant—a burger joint, definitely not the Divorce Hot Chocolate Restaurant or whatever—they’re talking about more important things. Buck doesn’t think there’s been silence between since Eddie mentioned Shannon.

“Lucy and I didn’t like him,” Eddie is saying. “But then it became…I couldn’t do more than one 48-hour shift each week. I shouldn’t have to. I don’t know any firehouse that does. But Cap wouldn’t have it. So when Bobby made this offer, I don’t think I even thought about it before I was saying yes for both of us.”

Buck lets that sink in. “So you’re staying,” he confirms. “After all this is—after Taylor gets her story, you two are staying at the 118.”

Eddie bats his eyelashes a bit, deep in thought, and chews at the inside of his cheek. “He offered,” Eddie admits. “We figured we’d check with you guys first. I really don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Last time?”

Across the table, Eddie sighs. He takes a sip of his drink—a cup of ice water; what a martyr. “I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“Eddie, there’s no way you can cause any more trouble for the LAFD than Ravi and I already have.”

Apparently, that’s all the prompting Eddie needs. “He was a bad captain,” Eddie rushes out. “I don’t—he was terrible. Racist and misogynistic. Lucy was the only girl on our shift, you know. And I just have no idea how the Chief doesn't know.”

“So come to the 118,” Buck says, because it’s that simple. “Tell Bobby about your old Cap. Let him handle it. He will. Stay.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Awfully presumptuous for a first date.”

“Fake first date,” Buck corrects with a small laugh. “And I mean it. We’d be happy to have you. And besides, I’ve never seen someone who actually understands Ravi’s sense of humor.”

The waiter comes by with their order and Eddie checks the time on his phone. His lockscreen is a picture of a kid—maybe his nephew or something—grinning toothily into the camera, holding a cone of ice cream. Eddie hasn’t brought it up, but they never officially ended their questions game, so Buck pushes his luck.

“Who’s that?” Buck asks, mumbling around a bite of burger. Oops. “On your lockscreen.”

Eddie stiffens. It’s nearly imperceptible except Buck is sitting right across from him and hasn’t really learned how not to stare at pretty guys yet. “My kid,” he says carefully. “Chimney must have told you.”

Chimney did not tell me jack shit, that insufferable wench. “He didn’t,” Buck replies easily. “But hey, I love kids! How old is he?”

Eddie relaxes a little bit, even though he flips his phone over so that it rests on the table face down. “Ten,” Eddie tells him. “He’s at summer camp right now. Comes home next Friday.” He pauses. “Uh, you can meet him one day. Maybe.”

Contrary to popular belief, Buck knows a request for a topic change when he hears one. “Well,” Buck starts, “You won’t believe what happened with that couple earlier today.”

“You need to reevaluate your choice in life partners,” Buck says, taking up residence on his sister’s very nice and comfy couch. “You need to break up with him right now.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Maddie tells him, from somewhere in the kitchen. Buck hears the click of the coffee machine. He hopes that means there’s coffee for Buck and Maddie and not the gremlin that owns this apartment and didn’t tell him that Eddie has a child. “I’m pretty fond of him.”

“Gross,” Buck says emphatically. “He’s—he’s a liar and a shitstirrer and—”

“Love you too, Buckaroo,” Chimney calls from down the hall, where he’s probably plotting what other vital facts about Eddie he’s going to keep to himself. 

“Buck.” Maddie’s face finally pops into view. She’s holding two mugs of coffee and offers one to Buck before curling up on the armchair with a yawn. It’s a bit early, but Buck’s having a crisis, so who cares. “I’m sure it’s not that big a deal. Aren’t you the one who’s adamant about all this being fake anyway?”

Buck slowly sits up on the couch, careful not to spill his drink. “Why did you say it like that?” He asks, suspicious. “Why did you—Maddie, what are you saying?”

“Nothing,” she replies immediately. “It’s fake obviously. Totally no real pining. You two are like, the pinnacle of normalcy.”

He narrows his eyes. Maddie sips her coffee. Chimney unironically turns on the new Panic! at the Disco album.

“Oh, come on,” Buck insists, always the first one to break their staring contests. “Spit it out, Maddie.”

“Oh, come on,” Maddie mimics. “Buck, that boy totally likes you.”

Buck thinks about scorching his tongue with boiling hot coffee. “How would you know?” he points out, swallowing audibly. “You haven’t even met him.”

Maddie points at something behind Buck’s head. He turns to see Chimney waving with a cheery grin. Buck thumps his head back onto the couch cushions.

“Uh uh,” Maddie warns him. “Don’t spill coffee on my couch.”

There’s something easy about the way she says it. Buck’s always privately held the opinion that Chimney and his sister deserve this—the soft domesticity and dreamy love story—especially after everything they’ve gone through. 

Probably, Maddie knows what she’s talking about, when it comes to him and Eddie. That doesn’t mean Buck has to give any weight to it. 

“Eddie is,” Buck struggles. “Maddie, I can’t. I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want him to feel like he can’t work at the 118 if he wants to.”

Maddie narrows her eyes. “You know something.”

“I know a lot of things,” Buck replies automatically. 

Chimney snorts and finally makes his way into the living room, sitting on the arm rest next to Maddie, who leans into him imperceptibly. 

“You’re not going to scare him off, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Chimney says. “He’s not—Eddie’s a good guy. He’s not going to hold anything against you. He agreed to fake date you. If you like him, it’d be stupid not to try.”

Then call me stupid, Buck wants to say. He feels something buzzing under his skin. Maddie saying, ‘He likes you', like anything is that simple. Like he wouldn’t be jeopardizing whatever friendship he and Eddie have created these last few days. Like—

Like Buck deserves to be happy, or anything close.

 “He bought me flowers,” Buck murmurs, a bit too close to wonderment. “I don’t know, guys. Someone tell me what to do.”

“We’ve been telling you,” Chimney retorts. He looks at Maddie and inhales, remembering something. “He told me something once. Eddie. Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone.”

Chimney has never in his life mentioned hanging out with Eddie in his free time. Buck thinks he’s been holding out on them; maybe, he’s been waiting to introduce Buck and Eddie this entire time. Buck wouldn’t put it past him.

“Buck,” Chimney says, cocking his head. “If you like him, tell him.”

Eddie kisses him for the first time on a Thursday. 

“I’m so tired of being canceled,” Ravi says, as Buck and Eddie climb into the loft the next morning. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but is there any way we can get Taylor Kelly here sooner?”

“You don’t have to say her last name every time,” Lucy points out. They’re sitting next to each other on the couch, looking like a pair of nightmare twins. “You can just say Taylor. We don’t know another one.”

Ravi shudders. “If you say that three times in a row, a green bean appears from thin air.”

Lucy nods like this makes perfect sense. Buck thinks maybe she’s developed some sort of Stockholm syndrome.

He crosses over to the breakfast bar to make two coffees. Bobby informs him that Hen and Chimney are out on a Med Call, but Buck’s in charge of stocking the ambulance when they get back. Buck gives him a sleepy two-fingered salute, and leaves him to his paperwork.

Shift started early today. It’s 6 AM—the sun’s barely out of the clouds—and even though Buck’s sleep schedule is fucked, he blinks hazily, walking back to the couch in a daze. When he sees someone who looks vaguely like Eddie, leaning against the armchair and rubbing at his face, he shoves the coffee in its direction.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, and then inexplicably presses a kiss to Buck’s forehead before going to sit next to Lucy on the couch.

Buck’s suddenly wide-fucking-awake. 

He manages not to drop his mug, but he thinks he gets a few drops on Ravi, who looks exactly how Buck feels, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. Buck tugs on Ravi’s uniform collar and hisses, “Do not say anything.”

Ravi, expectedly, has never been good at following directions. “You didn’t tell me that you and Eddie were real.”

“I will frame you for murder,” Buck snaps under his breath, but when he presses his fingers to the spot on his forehead, Ravi snickers. Buck makes as if to pour more coffee onto his stupid fucking head.

“Murder is literally how we became friends,” Ravi murmurs under his breath, but Buck is already headed downstairs, mumbling something about forgetting a very important pencil (VIP) in his car.

Bobby’s office is cracked open, so Buck doesn’t feel as terrible about bursting in and shutting the door behind him, dragging out a chair in the same time it takes for Bobby to glance up. He looks hard at work. Buck should come back later.

“Eddie kissed me,” he blurts out. “Bobby, we’re in crisis mode.”

“Hi,” Bobby says, blinking a couple of times and cocking his head. “He kissed you in the station?”

“Bobby,” Buck all but whines. “Who cares ?” At Bobby’s face he amends his statement. “I mean, yeah whatever PDA bad, don’t fire me again, but what the hell, Bobby? Why did he do that?”

Bobby blinks again. “Well, son,” he says, in his Captain Voice. “When a man and a woman, oh, wow that’s heteronormative—when a man and a man really love each other—”

“Bobby,” Buck says again, this time tapping on the desk to emphasize every word. “We are not dating.” He lets out a sharp breath. “I mean, I like him, obviously. But I can’t—we’re not together.”

“Hmmm,” Bobby says theatrically. It’s nice of him to indulge his firefighters. Side note: Buck is definitely dying. “Have you tried, I don’t know, talking to him?”

“Ugh,” Buck replies. “Why would you say that to me?”

“Buck.” Bobby’s serious this time. Buck can tell from the way he’s literally staring Buck down. “I just want you to be happy, kid. We all do. And it looks like Eddie’s pretty good at making that happen.”

“He is,” Buck says automatically, because his brain hates him. “I mean—Bobby.”

“That’s all I’ve got,” he replies, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t think I don’t know about you kids and your kiss of death nonsense.”

Buck doesn’t really think it’s nonsense, but he doesn’t want to jinx it. “Okay,” he says. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him then. Um,” he plucks a pencil out of Bobby’s stationary holder. “Can I—I’m just going to borrow this.”

Bobby looks like he’s going to open up a secret Twitter account and cancel them all himself execution style. “No PDA in the loft, though,” he warns.

Buck shrugs as he opens the door. “It was just a forehead kiss,” he mumbles, and ignores the way Bobby looks like this conversation has taken years off his life.

Turns out he left at the right time. He twirls the pencil—white white text that reads ‘ Fire Daddy ’ which, why —in his hand and gets to the loft just in time to hear Ravi saying, “So, Eddie, what do you know about Buck 1.0?”

Eddie spares Buck a glance. He doesn’t know what Eddie sees, but there must be something. Eddie nods decisively.

“That it doesn’t really matter,” Eddie says, in response to Ravi’s question. “If I had to guess.”

Lucy snorts, but Ravi only looks at Buck as if to say, Told you so. It hits Buck then that this was a test—Ravi trying to prove a point. Ravi succeeding,

“Isn’t that what we all want in a partner?” Buck remembers Ravi asking “Knowing that they have your back?”

“Buck, if you like him, tell him.”

Like anything is that easy, he reminds himself. Like you’re not a walking disaster—always the car crash.

“By the way,” Eddie interjects, looking a bit more awake. The conversation’s moved on without Buck. “I should say, if you don’t want me to be mean, it’s probably better that I just don’t say anything on camera when she gets here next week.”

“We did research,” Lucy explains. “And Eddie said, ‘Oh, her father’s in jail? Grow up already.’”

I need you to kiss me again so. bad. Buck thinks. 

Eddie shoots him a wolfish grin. If they make it out of next week alive, Buck will tell him everything.

“Hey,” Eddie says when Buck picks up the phone. “Do you want to come over tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Buck replies. He’s cooking dinner back at his apartment—some new stir fry recipe Bobby wanted him to try—and has his ear pressed to his shoulder to keep his phone in place. “What’s the occasion?”

It’s t-3 days till Taylor comes to the firehouse. Buck thinks he should try texting her before she shows up—warning her not to dig into things that aren’t on a pre-approved list—but he doesn’t have the heart to. She won’t listen, and their break up means that it isn’t Buck’s responsibility to persuade her to be a good person anymore.

Still, if he has to spend a day with his ex in his place of work, it’s not under terrible circumstances. He has Eddie, whatever that means, and half the focus will be on Ravi and Lucy anyway, who are a terror all on their own.

It’ll be fine. Eddie’s transferring to the 118, and unless every single person Buck’s spoken to has read this wrong, Buck gets to keep him.

So when Eddie says, “Christopher’s coming home tomorrow, if you want to meet him,” Buck drops his phone into a bowl of soy sauce and thinks he might be having some sort of aneurysm. 

It takes a second, to wipe off the black liquid and think of an explanation that is so far from the truth, before he connects the call again. “Hey, s-sorry,” Buck manages. “Got another call and hit the wrong button. You know.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, because he obviously doesn’t believe him. He coughs into the receiver. If Buck had to guess, he’d say Eddie’s just as nervous as Buck. “So, uh, about tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there,” Buck promises. 

There’s a beat. “You said you love kids,” Eddie reminds him, almost accusatory. Buck can tell he’s on the defense. It’s his kid after all.

“I do,” Buck says forcefully. “I’m good. I am. I’ll be there. You just took me by surprise, Eds.”

Buck can almost feel him soften at the nickname. He doesn’t know what that means. He thinks he’s going to be sick about it.

“Okay,” Eddie says again, softer this time. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Buck doesn’t quite manage not to burn his stir-fry.

Buck knocks on Eddie’s door with his heart somewhere that is decidedly not his chest.

Eddie wasn’t at work today—probably getting adjusted again since it’s Christopher’s first day back and they are still on summer break. It’s fine except it’s not because there’s no one left in the loft to reassure him except Chimney, who doesn’t have kids, Ravi, who should never have kids probably, and Hen, who’s a lesbian and therefore better than Buck will ever be anyway.

He inhales. 

Eddie opens the door in jeans and a t-shirt, smiling. He looks too warm, too inviting for what this is—a test just like Ravi’s. Buck wants to sink into the Diaz house. He wants to kiss Eddie’s fucking forehead. He wants to touch the mole underneath Eddie’s left eye.

He reaches out, and shows Eddie the LEGO kit he bought. “Please tell me Christopher doesn’t have this one.”

Eddie goes cross-eyed trying to figure it out. Buck guesses it was futile to expect a dad to have a numeric inventory of all his 10 year old son’s LEGO sets. “You’ll have to ask him,” Eddie responds. “Which, you can.”

“I know I can,” Buck says.

Eddie looks him over once, weighs the expression on Buck’s face (Buck would love to know what it is), and grins. “Well,” he says. “You’d better come in then.”

Christopher is waiting for him when they get in, sitting at the dining table with a book in his hands even though he’s clearly waiting for Buck and Eddie to return. He’s got curly hair and glasses and looks so much like Eddie, Buck can’t stand it. He’s seen pictures but it’s different. How Eddie glances at him protectively. How they both move at the same time closer into Buck’s orbit.

“Hi,” Christopher says, holding out his hand for Buck to shake. “I’m Christopher.”

Buck takes it, of course he does, and melts just a little bit. “Hey Christopher! I’m Buck—or, technically my last name is Buckley, but all my friends call me Buck, so it’s Buck.”

Christopher looks suspicious. “So we’re friends now,” he clarifies. “Because you and my dad are friends?”

Buck considers it. “Well, I guess, I’d like to be your friend. Your dad tells me you’re into sea creatures? I love surfing, so I thought that was pretty cool.” He pauses. “So, if you want to be friends, I’d like to be friends.” He shakes the box in his hand. “Also, I brought LEGOs for us to do while your dad is being boring.”

Christopher giggles and looks at his dad, as if agreeing with Buck’s analysis. “He’s not always boring,” Christopher protests valiantly. “Sometimes he takes me to the zoo. And stuff.”

“You’re a prince, Chris,” Eddie says sarcastically, though it just comes out fond and something else that tugs at Buck’s chest. Seemingly satisfied, Eddie goes to the kitchen and offers Buck a drink while Christopher tells Buck about the science experiments they did at camp.

Buck could live like this. He means it. He could live here on the couch at the Diaz house and be content with it for the rest of his life—Christopher telling Buck stories and Eddie offering commentary. He’s never, ever had this before.

He thinks he could be happy, like this.

“Hey.” Eddie taps twice on Buck’s shoulder as they make their way to the kitchen to start assembling their personal pizzas. “You good?”

Of course I am, Buck thinks. I’m with you, aren’t I?

“Oh man,” Chimney says, rubbing his hands together. “It’s Taylor Kelly time.”

Bobby sighs deeply. “Yeah,” he says. “It’s Taylor Kelly time.”

“Yeehaw, cowboy,” Ravi mutters, linking his arm with Lucy’s like they’re about to go square dancing.

“I’m right here,” the Taylor Kelly in question says, positioned carefully next to the arm chair, ready to strike. 

“I’m Jonathan,” the cameraman says. Buck half expects everyone to reply, “ Hi, Jonathan”, like they’re at an AA meeting.

“Well then,” Taylor says, when it’s clear no further commentary is coming. “I’m just going to be here throughout the day, asking you questions, you’d remember from the day with the brownies—”

“That was so out of pocket,” Ravi says, even though he wasn’t there. 

“—and then we’re going to conclude with interviews.” Her face does something odd there. “With both of the couples.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lucy says cheerily. “Right, babe ?”

“Jesus Christ,” Hen mutters. “You’ll tell us when you’re rolling, right?”

Jonathan opens his mouth to say something presumably kind and normal like, “ Sure !” or “You got it!” until Taylor shoots him a cutting glare and he closes his mouth with a snap.

“Wow,” Eddie says, and Buck closes his eyes because there’s no way he’s not going to—“You’re kinda insane, you know that?”

Taylor turns her frown at him. “I’d be careful about what you say,” she reminds him. “You do remember how you ended up in this situation, right?”

“Hey,” Eddie replies, he’s grinning, but it’s sharp and unlike him. “I’m not the one in trouble here.”

Buck tugs at his uniform, pulling him close so that no one else can hear him. “You will be,” he murmurs into Eddie’s ear. “I don’t need your defending.”

Eddie doesn’t look at all chastised. Buck’s about to say something else, but Taylor’s small, “Oh,” catches his attention.

“Oh?” Chimney repeats, he’s got his arms crossed, but it just serves to make him look skittish. He glances between Taylor and BuckandEddie like he’s watching a tennis match. “What, oh?”

“Nothing,” Taylor snaps, but she looks more irritable than she was a minute ago. “Are we good here?”

“Are we ever?” Hen mumbles, and then, thankfully, the alarm goes.

 The truck ride is awkward, but Ravi and Lucy trying to act like they’re in love with each other really takes the cake.

“Oh yeah,” Ravi says, out of nowhere, answering an unspoken question like someone’s pulled on his puppet strings. “I know it’s not much on a firefighter’s salary but Lucy, you know my amazing awesome girlfriend who’s, like, so much cooler than me, and I donate to Planned Parenthood every month. We love feminism.”

Buck thinks he’s going to start crying.

“You tell ‘em, babe,” Lucy says, adding, “We’re pro-choice, by the way.”

Bobby steps forward, resignation written all over his face. “Now,” he says, carefully. “Let’s not get political.”

Ravi glares at him, wrapping a tentative arm around Lucy’s shoulder like he thinks she might bite him. “How dare you try and silence my feminist girlfriend?” 

“Just to clarify,” Buck adds, wincing as the camera points to him, “Those comments about homophobia weren’t real either. This is my boyfriend.” 

He points at Eddie and hopes that post production can edit out the tremor on the world ‘boyfriend’. Eddie takes it in stride, arm already snaked around Buck’s shoulders and scrolling through his phone indifferently.

“Also, like,” Buck rushes out. He’s never really been good at promo for the LAFD, too many things to remember. “This is Hen. One of my best friends. She’s a lesbian woman.”

“Top of her class!” Chimney adds, sitting next to an unimpressed Hen at the breakfast bar. “So not a diversity hire!”

“You guys are a mess,” Taylor informs them. “Edit that out, by the way. Okay, Buck, Eddie, how did you two meet?”

She says it almost sarcastically, like she doesn’t believe them, which, fair. Buck doesn't know how believable he can be when Eddie’s sitting right next to him, arms brushing, knee knocking against Buck’s every few seconds in a pattern.

“On a call,” Buck says, spitting out their practiced answer. “It was a weird one. I can’t give away details for confidentiality, but I was on it, obviously, and Eddie’s team was on the call with us, obviously again, haha. But Eddie and I worked together to get a live grenade back to bomb control.” Buck shrugs. “So you could say it happened pretty fast.”

“What did, Firefighter Buckley?” 

Buck can see the camera refocus. It makes a whirring sound. “Uh, our relationship.” Most of the other firefighters allow them the courtesy of privacy. Only Eddie, Ravi, and Lucy remain in the loft area with the camera.

Taylor raises one, perfectly done eyebrow. “So it was, what, love at first sight?”

It’s Eddie who responds. “Why?” he asks. (See: demands). “Don’t believe in it?”

Taylor makes a very opinionated sound that has Ravi shifting in his seat uncomfortably and Lucy narrowing her eyes. “It’s not really…” She looks uneasy, as if remembering that she too is being picked up by the mics. “I mean, you guys are adults. And this is real journalism. We don’t want to hear a good sound bite.”

That’s debatable, Buck thinks, and opens his mouth to refocus them back onto solid ground. Eddie cuts him off again.

“It’s not a sound bite,” he insists. The arm from around Buck’s shoulders is gone now. Eddie leans forward in his seat. “Buck is funny, and he’s attractive, and he’s a good person. What’s not to love at first sight?”

He doesn’t ask it like a rhetorical question. Buck thinks he’s going to be sick. He’s never had this before. It’s making him panic. 

“Lunch,” Ravi decides firmly, always more perceptive than anyone gives him credit for. “We can go back to your ‘real journalism’ after the ad break.”

“I’m ordering a shirt,” Lucy announces gleefully. “It says, ‘I love my bitchy boyfriend.’”

The cameras stop rolling. Buck doesn’t look at Eddie until they turn on again.

Of course, Taylor leaves Buck and Eddie’s interview for last.

They’re shooting them in Bobby’s office, technically after their shift has ended. Ravi and Lucy go in first, tired and annoyed and probably going to leave Taylor with about one minute of usable footage. Eddie sits on the couch patiently, waiting their turn, and Buck—

Buck is pacing.

He’s kidding himself if he thinks happiness is for people like him. People who don’t know how to stay, who take more than what they’ve been given, who make people love him only to prove them wrong. 

Eddie’s perfect—Buck’s always thought so. He’s digging a hole only for Buck to lay down the floorboards—selfish, wasting everyone’s time and energy. Buck has to tell Eddie that they can’t really be together, before Eddie does something stupid and ask Buck out first.

“Buck,” Eddie says finally. “Are you going to tell me what I did or do you want me to figure it out?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Eddie says carefully. “But feel free to prove me wrong.”

“Eddie,” Buck exhales, he feels like it might be his last one. “You can’t just say things like that. You can’t just lo—accept me like it’s that simple.”

Eddie cocks his head. From the kitchen, all that pokes over the couch is his head. “What’s so hard about it?”

“Eddie,” Buck chokes out a laugh. “You—I mean we met two weeks ago. You don’t know anything about me!”

Lucy makes her way up to the loft, grabbing the bomber jacket she left on the couch. “You two are up,” she says. Her voice sounds cheery—Buck’s beginning to learn that she always is—but her eyes flicker to Eddie in concern. 

Eddie’s jaw is tight. His fingers are curled into fists at his sides. You don’t have to know him to tell that something’s wrong. That Buck is wrong.

“Well,” he says, brushing past Lucy and descending the stairs before Buck can catch up. “Let’s get this over with then.”

Buck follows him, albeit reluctantly. Just as he crosses the loft space, Lucy grabs his arm tightly. 

“Buckley,” she says, voice low and vaguely threatening. “Eddie’s good people. He likes you. For the love of God do not fuck this up.”

Buck pulls out of her grip, crossing his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t matter. Everything always ends that way.”

“Buckley,” Lucy says, dangerously. “You’re being pathetic about this. Get up.”

Buck thinks she and Ravi might’ve tag teamed into a Good Cop/Bad Cop situation. Though, the jury's still out on whether or not Ravi’s the Good Cop. 

“Buckley,” Taylor calls from the App Bay. “Time’s a-wasting. Gotta get my scoop.”

“Hmph,” Lucy mutters. “And for my next trick, I will run a smear campaign against the wretched woman from Channel Eight News.” 

Buck snorts and takes his time walking to Bobby’s office. Eddie’s already there, obviously, arms crossed and staring at the wall. Buck sits next to him slowly, like Eddie might run if he makes too much noise.

Taylor, of course, looks delighted by this. “Trouble in paradise?” she asks.

“Whatever,” Buck replies. “Let’s just get this over with, Taylor.”

“ You’re the one who took ages talking to the girl you cheated on me with,” Taylor points out. Buck winces. Eddie keeps looking at the wall, though his fists tighten. Buck doesn’t, actually, think the annoyance is directed at him.

They go through the questions. Buck and Eddie play the part of a couple well enough; Buck’s always been good at deflecting. And then it’s over. The interview, and this two-week long charade. 

Buck feels like he can’t breathe.

Eddie makes a beeline for the locker room as soon as they’re done, and Jonathan the camera man, possibly sensing some sort of disturbance, follows, leaving Buck and Taylor alone in Bobby’s office.

“So,” Taylor asks, falsey nonchalant. “Eddie. When did that happen? Before or after we broke up?”

“Don’t,” he replies. “We’re not together anymore, Taylor. Claws off.”

Taylor shrugs, but deflates. Buck thinks neither of them put as much stock in their relationship after it ended as they did when they were in the eye of the storm. “Still,” she says. “I’m surprised. I didn’t expect you to pull off a real relationship so soon.”

It’s still a dig, but it’s said more out of genuine surprise than malice. Buck rubs at his face. “You’re not on the record, are you?”

“No.”

“We’re not even together,” he admits. “We met two weeks ago and he’s just helping me out because he’s a good person. That what you wanted to hear?”

Taylor chews at her bottom lip. On anyone else, it would look nervous. On her, it just looks like she’s refraining from being sharp with him. “No,” she says. “But it’s good to know I was right. Catch you later, Buckley.”

She leaves him in the office. It takes Buck another minute or so to actually push himself to his feet. Taylor left the door open. When Buck rounds the corner, he almost runs straight into Eddie.

He doesn’t get half a chance to open his mouth before Eddie’s speaking. “What did you mean in there?” he demands. “When you said ‘we’re not even together’. What did you mean?”

Buck raises an eyebrow. “You were eavesdropping ?”

Eddie scowls. “Prosecute me for it later. What did you mean?”

Buck throws up his hands. “What do you think I meant? You agreed to fake date me. Fake. Date. I know you like me, Eddie. I like you ! But we’re not really together.”

There’s a beat of silence. Buck thanks God all of A-shift is gone because his voice echoes around the station. 

Eddie laughs bitterly, rubbing at his face like he does when he’s stressed. “I am so stupid.”

“Why?’ Buck asks. Eddie doesn’t say anything. He keeps not saying anything when it clicks. Buck says, “ Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie mutters. “What now? We’re not. We just go back to being friends?”

Buck wants to say, I met you two weeks ago. We were never friends to begin with. “I asked you on a date,” he recalls, still dumbfounded. “You said yes.”

“A fake date,” Eddie retorts. “Apparently. You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I’m not rubbing it in.” Buck feels like his head is spinning. He wants, he wants, he wants. “It’s not like I know what to do. We met two weeks ago.”

That’s enough for Eddie to reach his breaking point. “Yeah, we met two weeks ago,” he snaps. “But at least I know your favorite animal is a freaking sea lion. I know you can’t eat strawberry Jello anymore because that’s all you had when you were laid up in the hospital. I know you love to read biographies and science fiction and can’t stand romance novels even though your favorite movie is Love, Actually. Yeah, we met two weeks ago, Buck. But I know that I love you.” Eddie inhales shakily. “Don’t you dare take that away from me.”

Buck can’t breathe. Buck cannot breathe. He touches his forehead, fingers brushing over the spot Eddie kissed him last Thursday, over a cup of coffee. He remembers the Diaz home, warm and safe and loved.

He exhales. “I’m not going to.”

Eddie blinks. Buck steps forward and places a hand on his jaw, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s. “Bobby said no PDA at the station.”

“Eddie,” Buck says. “Real or not real?”

Eddie’s still holding his breath. Buck doesn’t know if he remembers how not to. “Real,” he says, and then he kisses him.

Buck thinks maybe, he could learn how to have this forever too.

“Breaking news!” Ravi announces, walking towards Buck at a frighteningly rapid speed in Bobby’s backyard, Sebastian in tow. “I got broken up with! This is the best day of my life! I’m no longer an enemy of women!”

He waves a newspaper article at them. Buck honestly didn’t know they still sold those for Channel Eight but he has a vivid image of Ravi walking into some bodega and purchasing a newspaper with his face splayed across page three. The headline reads: Bad News for Gen-Z’s Favorite Couple: The Slushee Breakup.

“What do they mean ‘Slushee Breakup?’” Bobby demands. “Is that offensive too?”

“It’s been three days,” Eddie says, a bit incredulously. “You couldn’t hold out longer than that? 

Ravi points a finger at him. “Hey man, I asked the Chief about this.”

His hand is linked with his boyfriend, so it carries both of them in Eddie’s direction. Sebastian, for his part, doesn’t look phased and is having a normal conversation with Hen and Karen that probably passes the Bechdel Test while his body is being manipulated.

Buck snorts, and then giggles. Ravi stares at him like he’s grown two heads. “I just,” Buck says, between laughter. “I just can’t believe this actually happened. What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with us,” Ravi corrects. “And I don’t know, I had childhood cancer. Maybe you have the whole baby box situation.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chimney says. “You two are going to offend communities that I didn’t even know existed.”

“Eddie will keep him in line,” Hen says. “Sebastian will—I don’t know if anyone can keep Ravi in line—”

Sebastian shrugs silently.

“—but Eddie’s got Buck,” Hen finishes. “Right, Eddie?”

Buck taps at Eddie’s wrist. It’s a feeling that’s still unfamiliar, but grounding. Eddie doesn’t have Buck, but he wants him. It makes a world of difference.

Eddie flashes a quick grin in her direction. “Sure,” he says. “I’ve been telling everyone Buck’s only been dating me for the diversity points anyway.”

“Man,” May says, somewhere directly behind them, a few seconds later. “You guys better hope no one listens too close to this Snapchat I just posted.”

Buck thinks the only cancellation he’ll ever be worried about again is his and Eddie’s relationship. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, and lets Ravi (25) and May (not 25) bicker like a couple of teenagers vying for their parent’s attention. Eddie flashes him a grin.

Buck thinks he could get used to this.