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Buck had never really gotten used to the constant noise. Even after everything he’d been through, after the firehouse, the rescues, the chaos—there was something about people, especially the people he loved, buzzing around him that set his nerves on edge.
After the lightning strike, though, it was worse. Everyone meant well. They came to check on him, to make sure he was okay. Bobby brought food, Chim cracked his jokes, Hen with her soft concern. Even Maddie had hovered, her eyes always searching his face for signs of… what? Trauma? Fear? Some sort of breakdown that Buck himself wasn’t sure he even recognized yet.
But all of it was too much.
Too many voices, too much energy. They couldn’t know that the loudest noise was in his own head—the static of near-death that he couldn’t quite shake, the quiet yet deafening question that had echoed ever since he woke up in that hospital bed.
Why?
Why did he come back?
Why him, out of all the people who didn’t get that chance?
And most of all— what the hell was he supposed to do now?
The world had never felt more suffocating, the walls of his own apartment more like a cage than a home, so he ran. He didn’t even say goodbye; he just slipped out while no one was looking, leaving behind the food, the laughter, the warmth of well-meaning friends. He didn’t want that.
He wanted quiet.
And he knew, without thinking, where he’d find it.
Eddie’s house had always been a second home to him. It wasn’t just the warm walls or the cozy furniture—it was Eddie, and it was Christopher.
It was a place where Buck had always felt like he belonged.
The door had been unlocked when he arrived. Eddie must’ve known he was coming, or maybe he just expected him. Either way, Buck had slipped in, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed onto the familiar couch with a heavy sigh.
No words, no questions. Eddie didn’t ask. He just handed Buck a blanket and left him to sleep.
And for the first time since he woke up from that nightmare, Buck finally got some rest.
When Buck woke, the world felt… still. The quiet hummed around him, soft and unobtrusive. He blinked, groggy, as the soft scent of tea filled his nose.
Eddie was there, sitting at the dining table a few feet away, a cup of tea in front of him. There was a second cup, too, waiting for Buck on the coffee table.
Eddie’s quiet presence was exactly what Buck needed. No questions. No demands. Just Eddie, a steady rock in a world that felt like it was always crumbling beneath his feet.
He sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. His muscles ached, but there was a strange comfort in it—like the physical pain kept him anchored to the moment.
Eddie glanced up, his expression soft, and Buck couldn’t help but appreciate how effortlessly calm Eddie always seemed. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt that way.
“Am I allowed to ask you how you are now?” Eddie’s voice was low, careful, like he was walking a tightrope.
For a moment, Buck didn’t answer. He just stared at the tea, at the way the steam curled up in delicate tendrils, his mind swirling with thoughts he didn’t have the energy to untangle.
He swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of Eddie’s question pressing against his chest.
Finally, he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Did you know… that your brain replays the best moments of your life in the last 7 minutes before you die?”
Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze sharpening as he sat up straighter, listening intently. “No. I didn’t know that.”
Buck let out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into the fabric of the blanket draped over his lap. “Yeah. I didn’t either. Not until… until it happened.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy and loaded with everything Buck had been carrying alone since that day.
Eddie didn’t rush him, didn’t push for more. He just waited, patient and present, like he always was. Buck needed that.
“When I was... gone, I didn’t see a white light or hear anything. I just… felt myself slipping away.” Buck’s voice wavered, and he closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. “But right before that, I saw these… these flashes. These moments. And they were supposed to be the best ones. I mean, that’s what they say, right? Your best moments.”
He stopped, his throat tightening as the images flashed in his mind again—crystal clear, vivid, like he was reliving them all at once.
He swallowed hard, his throat tight as he forced himself to keep going. “And most of them… they weren’t about me at all. They were you . You and Chris.”
The weight of the confession settled between them, heavy and undeniable. Eddie didn’t move, didn’t even blink.
He just sat there, staring at Buck, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
But he didn’t say a word. Maybe because Eddie already knew. Maybe because he was waiting for Buck to continue.
And so he did.
“It wasn’t the rescues,” Buck said, shaking his head as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “It wasn’t some heroic moment, or even my childhood, or... I don’t know, some milestone that’s supposed to be important. I didn’t see any of that.”
He stopped, his voice cracking, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. “It was… it was Christopher’s laugh when I taught him how to surf. How he jumped into my arms after he stood on the board for the first time, the way he looked at me like I was the best person in the world.”
Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening. Buck could see the memory flash across Eddie’s face too. They’d gone to the beach that day, Eddie watching from the shore as Buck showed Christopher how to balance, how to ride the waves. That laugh—it had been pure joy, a sound Buck would never forget. A moment that felt like it was more than just teaching a kid to surf. It was something deeper. Something that had connected the three of them in a way Buck hadn’t realized until now.
“And then,” Buck continued, his voice softer now, as if he were scared to say the next part out loud, “it was you , in the kitchen, making breakfast. Flipping pancakes like a pro. I don’t even know why that memory, but I could see you so clearly, the way you move around like you’ve done it a thousand times.”
He smiled through the tears threatening to spill over, his heart clenching. “You were making breakfast for me and Chris, and it was so simple. But it felt like... home. Like the safest place in the world.”
Buck could feel Eddie’s gaze on him now, intense, full of something unspoken, but he didn’t dare look up. He wasn’t finished. He couldn’t stop.
“And then it was the three of us,” Buck whispered, “right here. On this couch. Playing board games, or watching a movie, or just... laughing. It was all of us, together . Not some dramatic moment, not some big thing. Just... us .”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Buck’s heart was pounding in his chest, every beat reminding him of how close he had come to losing it all.
He had been gone— gone —and the last thing his brain had clung to were these quiet, everyday moments with Eddie and Christopher.
They weren’t just the best moments of his life—they were his life.
Eddie’s voice, when he finally spoke, was so quiet Buck almost didn’t hear him. “Three minutes and seventeen seconds.”
Buck blinked, confused, finally lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s. “What?”
Eddie’s eyes were locked on the floor, his jaw clenched tight, his hands balled into fists. “That’s how long I lost you. That’s how long I thought… I thought I’d never get the chance to tell you…”
Buck’s heart stuttered in his chest. “Eddie…”
Eddie swallowed hard, his gaze finally lifting to meet Buck’s. His eyes were glassy, and Buck could see the emotions swirling beneath the surface—pain, fear, regret.
“I love you,” Eddie whispered, the words trembling with raw, unfiltered emotion. “I love you, Buck. And I almost didn’t get to say it.”
The words hit Buck like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Eddie’s eyes were filled with so much emotion—pain, fear, love—and Buck felt it all like a tidal wave crashing over him.
He tried to speak, but nothing came out. His throat felt tight, his heart racing, and for a moment, he thought maybe he was dreaming, maybe this wasn’t real.
But it was real. It was happening.
Eddie loved him.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, hadn’t dreamed about it in those quiet moments where he let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—there was more between them than friendship.
But hearing it now, like this, after everything… it felt like the ground had shifted beneath him.
Eddie looked away again, like he was afraid of what Buck might say. “I should’ve told you sooner. I should’ve said something before all of this. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t lose you without telling you.”
Buck felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn’t move to wipe it away. He just stared at Eddie, his chest tightening with so many emotions he didn’t know how to process them all.
“I love you,” Eddie said again, the words softer this time, but no less powerful. “I’ve loved you for... God, I don’t even know how long. Maybe since the moment you walked into that firehouse. Maybe since the first time you looked after Chris. All I know is that it’s you, Buck. It’s always been you.”
Buck let out a shaky breath, his mind spinning. He had always loved Eddie, too. Maybe he hadn’t known it at first, maybe it had taken him years to figure it out, but now... Now he couldn’t deny it.
He had spent his life searching for love, for something that felt real, and it had been right in front of him this whole time.
He reached out, his hand finding Eddie’s, their fingers intertwining. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it was enough. It was enough to let Eddie know that he wasn’t alone, that Buck was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I love you too,” Buck whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I think… I think I always have.”
The moment the words left his lips, everything seemed to stop. Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, as if the world itself had paused to bear witness to their confession.
Eddie’s eyes widened, and for a second, fear flickered across his face—raw, unfiltered, and open in a way that Buck had never seen before.
But behind that fear was something else, something deeper. Something that had always been there but had never been spoken aloud.
Love.
Eddie’s gaze softened, his brown eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and Buck could see the way his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, like he was trying to steady himself.
They stared at each other, neither daring to move, neither wanting to break the moment that felt too fragile, too precious.
And in that silence, Buck let himself truly see Eddie. Not just the man he worked alongside every day, not just the father of the boy he loved like his own, but the man who had quietly and steadily become his whole world.
Eddie’s eyes—deep, warm, and so full of emotion—held Buck’s, and for the first time, Buck allowed himself to fall completely into them. He noticed the way Eddie’s jaw tightened, the way his cheekbones seemed sharper in the low light of the room. His stubble was a little thicker, his skin weathered from years of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And yet, he was beautiful.
God , he was beautiful .
His mind raced through every detail, every reason why he loved this man—why he always had, even if it had taken him years to figure it out. The way Eddie’s lips quirked ever so slightly at the corners, the way his hair always looked like he’d just run a hand through it in frustration, the lines of stress that etched his brow but never took away from his softness.
Buck could see the tiredness in Eddie’s face, but also the strength. The resilience. The love.
Eddie’s thumb brushed over the back of Buck’s hand, slow and gentle, and Buck could feel the tremor in his touch. It wasn’t just affection—it was a promise. A promise that had been there all along, in every gesture, every look, every moment that they had shared but never named.
“God, Eds,” Buck breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he tightened his grip on Eddie’s hand. “You don’t know what you mean to me.”
His throat tightened with the weight of it all. “You and Chris... you’re everything.”
The words seemed to pull Eddie back, and he blinked, a single tear slipping down his cheek. His lips parted, but no sound came out, just a breath—a soft, shaky breath that broke the silence.
Buck's fingers tightened around Eddie's as the silence stretched between them, his pulse hammering in his ears.
He looked down at their joined hands, at the warmth and strength that had always been there but had never felt quite like this before.
“Eddie Diaz,” Buck said, the words almost a whisper, like he was afraid of breaking the fragile moment between them. “I think… if death pulled us apart, I’d find you in every lifetime.”
And Eddie smiled, a tear of his own slipping free as he finally let himself believe it, let himself feel it and he whispered back, “I’d be waiting.”
His voice broke, barely a whisper, and in the quiet, in the stillness between them, Buck knows.
They’ve always been meant for this.
And then, without thinking, they leaned in.
It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t frantic. It was slow, deliberate. Buck could feel the warmth of Eddie’s breath as they drew closer, the space between them disappearing inch by inch until their foreheads were almost touching.
He could see the wetness in Eddie’s eyes, the way his lashes fluttered as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss.
It was everything .
The world seemed to tilt, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Buck felt like he could breathe. The kiss was gentle, slow, like they were both testing the waters, trying to figure out if this was real.
But the moment Eddie’s lips pressed fully against his, Buck knew—knew that this was where he was meant to be, where he had always been meant to be.
Eddie’s hand slipped up, cupping the back of Buck’s neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a release. A culmination of everything they’d held back for so long.
Buck could taste the salt of Eddie’s tears, could feel the tremor in his fingers as they held onto each other, both of them afraid to let go.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless and wide-eyed, neither spoke. Buck’s forehead rested against Eddie’s, and for a long moment, they just sat there in the quiet, their hearts pounding in sync.
“I love you,” Eddie whispered, his voice still trembling, but this time, there was no fear. Just certainty. Just love.
Buck smiled, his own tears slipping free as he whispered back, “I love you, too.”
And for the first time, it felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
Buck reached out, his fingers slipping into Eddie's hair, brushing through the soft strands. It was an intimate gesture, so simple, yet it felt monumental. Eddie closed his eyes at the touch, leaning into Buck’s hand with a sigh that seemed to release years of tension, years of holding back.
When Eddie opened his eyes again, they were full of warmth, full of love. He stared up at Buck, his gaze soft and unguarded, and Buck couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re beautiful,” Buck whispered, his voice full of awe, like he was seeing Eddie for the first time.
Eddie’s face flushed, a rosy pink spreading across his cheeks, and Buck chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently over Eddie’s warm skin.
“What? Did I embarrass you?” Buck teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he tried to rub away the blush, knowing full well he couldn’t.
“Shut up,” Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes, but his voice was soft, affectionate. A little laugh slipped out, and he leaned his head against Buck’s shoulder, letting the weight of his body relax against him.
Buck let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his heart still racing, but now with something lighter, something sweeter.
They sat there like that for a moment—Eddie resting on Buck’s shoulder, and Buck’s arm wrapped around Eddie, holding him close.
“This is real, right?” Eddie asked after a beat, his voice so low Buck almost didn’t hear him. “We didn’t just imagine all of this?”
Buck smiled and shook his head. “Nope. It’s real. All of it.”
He couldn’t help but brush a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head, still marveling at the fact that he could do that now—that this was something they could have. “Kind of hard to believe though, huh?”
Eddie snorted softly, a grin tugging at his lips. “You? Hard to believe? Come on, Buck, the universe would never let you go without making everything… dramatic.”
His teasing tone was back, the banter slipping between them like it always had, but now there was something softer underneath it. Something more.
Buck's smile widened as he tilted his head, watching Eddie’s grin pull at the corners of his lips.
“Edmundo Diaz,” Buck said with a soft chuckle, “didn’t you say you didn’t believe in the universe?”
He raised an eyebrow, knowing full well what Eddie’s response would be. He could practically hear Eddie’s eye-roll before it even happened.
Sure enough, Eddie rolled his eyes, though the affection in them was undeniable. “I don’t,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head slightly. “But if it gave me back you, then… I guess I can give it a chance.”
Buck’s heart skipped a beat at that. Eddie wasn’t one for sweeping declarations or grand gestures, but that? That was about as close as Eddie Diaz got to admitting the universe had a point.
And if Buck was the reason behind that shift, well… he could live with that.
“You’re really gonna give the universe a shot, huh? Just for me?” Buck teased, his voice light, but there was a deep warmth behind his words, the weight of everything they’d been through settling between them.
Eddie looked up at him, his eyes soft but filled with something more, something vulnerable. “Yeah, Buck. For you.”
Buck’s smile softened, and for a moment, the weight of Eddie’s words hung between them. Eddie’s hand found Buck’s again, fingers threading together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And it was. It always had been.
“We can really do this now, huh?” Eddie’s voice was quieter, almost disbelieving, like he was still trying to wrap his head around it. “We can… kiss, and touch, and say all the stupid things we’ve been holding back.”
“Yeah, Eddie,” Buck said, his voice just as soft. “We can.”
Eddie turned his head slightly, just enough to brush his lips against Buck’s jaw, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down Buck’s spine.
He couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from his chest—this was really happening.
“God, I still can’t believe this,” Buck said, his grin widening as he pressed his lips to Eddie’s temple. “I love you, Eddie Diaz. And I swear, I’m not letting go this time.”
Eddie tilted his head up, meeting Buck’s gaze with that same look of pure, unfiltered love. “I’m not letting you go either.”
They kissed again, slower this time, softer, like they were savoring every second of it. And when they finally pulled apart, they didn’t need words.
It was in their smiles, in the way their fingers stayed laced together, in the way Eddie’s head stayed nestled on Buck’s shoulder, content and at peace.
“Buck,” Eddie mumbled after a moment, his voice muffled against Buck’s shirt.
“Yeah?” Buck hummed, his hand absently playing with the strands of Eddie’s hair.
“You’re beautiful too,” Eddie teased, and Buck couldn’t help but laugh, his chest vibrating with warmth and happiness.
“And you’re a pain in the ass,” Buck shot back, nudging Eddie lightly with his elbow, but there was no bite to his words. Just love.
“You and me, huh?” Buck whispered, pulling back just enough to look Eddie in the eyes. “Against the universe.”
Eddie’s lips quirked into a soft smile, his thumb gently brushing over Buck’s hand. “Always.”
Buck let out a small laugh, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. He squeezed Eddie’s hand and leaned back against the couch, feeling Eddie’s warmth beside him. “You know, maybe the universe does scream at you sometimes, just to get your attention.”
Eddie huffed, rolling his eyes again, but his smile stayed in place. “Yeah, yeah, you were right, Buck.” He glanced up at him with a look that was somewhere between exasperation and fondness. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Buck grinned, his chest full of something he couldn’t quite name, but it felt a lot like love. He nudged Eddie playfully. “Too late.”
They sat there for a while, comfortable in the silence, their banter softening into something familiar and warm.
Every so often, Buck would glance over at Eddie, and each time, it hit him all over again—this was real. Eddie was here.
They were here.
And the universe? Well, maybe it had been screaming at them for a while now. But now, finally, they were listening.