Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

***

~ Middle ~

It’s a fucking shit show in the Diaz household this sweltering May morning.

Usually, mornings are kind of their thing. Buck's up before the sun, brewing that extra-strong coffee he claims doesn’t affect him anymore but that he makes because he knows Eddie loves it. Eddie’s the first to unload the dishwasher, barefoot and blinking sleep from his eyes, always humming something under his breath — usually some ridiculous pop song Buck would be singing non stop that would get stuck in Eddie’s head. Christopher floats through it all in his morning grumpiness, dragging his blanket behind him and sitting at the table with bed hair and sleepy grins, demanding pancakes or at least toast with peanut butter.

They’re good at mornings. 

They’ve been doing this for years, unofficially at first, then slowly, naturally, Buck just... never left. And now the three of them living together wasn’t so much a decision as it was a continuation of something that had already started. Like it would’ve been more unnatural to stop.

But this morning?

This morning is chaos.

The first disaster strikes when Buck bolts upright in bed, the imprint of his pillow still deep on his cheek and his hair looking like he’d wrestled a raccoon in his sleep. He stares at the dim screen of his dead phone like it personally betrayed him. 

“Shitshitshitshit,” he mutters, stumbling out of bed and immediately slamming his shin into the corner of Eddie’s weight bench. “Ow—Jesus—why is that still there?”

Meanwhile, Eddie is groaning in the bathroom down the hall, face pressed against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His back twinged the second his foot slid out from under him mid-rinse. Now he’s standing under lukewarm water with one hand braced on the tile and the other clutching his lower back like he’s twice his age. 

“This is how I die,” he mumbles to no one.

Christopher, to his credit, emerges from his room mostly unharmed by the morning’s disasters — except for the tragic reality that he only got nine hours of sleep instead of his usual ten. He stands at the top of the hallway, arms crossed, blanket draped over one shoulder, and announces in a croaky voice, “I’m exhausted. This is child neglect.”

And as if to deliver the final blow, the AC unit gives one last wheeze before tapping out entirely. The house goes silent for a moment — no hum, no faint cool breeze through the vents — and then the heat creeps in like a living thing. By the time Buck runs into the kitchen half-dressed and fully panicking, sweat already beading on his temples, the thermostat blinks 96 degrees like it’s mocking them.

Buck squints at it, flings his arms up, and yells, “Are you kidding me?!

Eddie shuffles out of the hallway with a limp, hair still wet, towel slung around his waist and a pained scowl on his face. “I think I threw my back out.”

Christopher flops face-first onto the couch. “You guys suck at mornings now.”

***

The Diaz kitchen is a battlefield of a morning well-survived.

A half-finished bowl of cereal sits precariously close to the edge of the table. Toast crumbs litter the counter, and someone (definitely Buck) left the peanut butter jar open beside a butter knife that now appears to be glued to the granite with sticky residue. A damp towel is draped over the back of a chair.

And Buck is at the center of the storm.

He’s got one shoe on and is hopping around the kitchen like some kind of chaotic flamingo trying to wrestle the other on. His sock situation is one white with blue stripes, the other black and covered in tiny cartoon avocados. His shirt is wrinkled to the point it looks like it had a fistfight with the dryer and lost. His curls are still damp from the world's fastest shower, and he's muttering something under his breath about how "alarms are a capitalist scam" while checking every counter for his keys.

Eddie, despite his thrown-out back and the swampy temperature, is somehow managing to appear almost composed — or at least composed enough to have already eaten, cleaned Chris’s plate, and now sit at the table sipping from the mug of coffee Buck made for him.

He watches Buck struggle with the laces and raises an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t want breakfast? Pretty sure you’ll pass out halfway through the shift.”

Buck huffs, finally wrangling the laces into a half-knot. “I’ll eat at the station. I’m already running late, and if I stop moving I’ll combust.”

“Bold of you to assume you haven’t already,” Eddie deadpans, smirking behind his mug.

Chris reappears briefly in the doorway, a brush in hand and his hair still sticking up at weird angles. He disappears again toward his bedroom to grab his bag, muttering something about not wanting to look like a “frizz monster”.

Buck’s voice echoes through the house, “Chris hurry up or we’re going to be late!”

Chris yells back, “I'm going! Don't rush me.” He huffs.

His summer program had started just the day before, and he’d come home grinning and sun-drenched, chattering about art stations and robotics and some kid named Marcus who wore crocs with light-up charms. It was held at the town’s community center — mornings to early afternoons, with a fully staffed support team and accessible activities for all kinds of kids. Carla had told them about it a few weeks ago, and it had sounded like the perfect thing for Chris.

Even better, it came at a time when Eddie was stuck in a weird limbo between shift rotations. He was scheduled to move back to A shift once the firefighter covering his spot went on paternity leave in two weeks. Until then, Eddie was technically “off duty,” but still on call for minor paperwork and drills — meaning lots of free time but a gnawing sense of restlessness.

Which is exactly why he’s already making a mental list of all his errands for the day while sipping his coffee.

Eddie sets the mug down with a soft clink and glances over at Buck, who’s now checking the pockets of a jacket that definitely doesn’t match the rest of his outfit. “What time did Felix say he’s coming to look at the AC?”

Buck freezes mid-motion, eyebrows furrowed. “Oh—hold on.” He fishes his phone out of his back pocket, thumbs flying across the screen. “Eleven. He said eleven.”

Eddie hums, already strategizing. “Alright. I’ll run to the store before then. Should give me enough time to get back and unpack everything while he’s still working on the unit.”

“Sounds good, and—”

Chris’s voice echoes from the hallway—

“Buck, where’s the stuff for curly hair you were talking about?” Chris’s voice rang out from the bathroom, slightly muffled.

"It’s on the dresser in the bedroom, buddy! You can grab it and leave it in the bathroom for me, please. That way we can all use it!”

A faint “Okay!” echoed back as Buck hurried to the counter, snatching a piece of toast directly off Eddie’s plate without even a word. Eddie didn’t even look up — just reached out with a practiced swipe and smacked the back of Buck’s leg with the side of his hand.

“Hey!”

Buck gave a muffled laugh around the piece of toast in his mouth, already beelining for the fridge. He opened it with one hand and reached for the orange juice or rather the final drops left in the container. “Really? This is it?”

“There was more this twenty minutes ago. Christopher basically drank it all,” Eddie replied dryly.

Buck didn’t bother with a glass. He unscrewed the cap and tilted it back like he was doing a shot. Eddie stared at him, one eyebrow twitching higher by the second.

“You’re feral,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head.

Buck finished the bottle then dashed to the recycling bin to toss it into. On the way back, he grabbed the pen clipped to the fridge and scribbled OJ!!! onto the grocery list in all caps, complete with three exclamation points.

Eddie watched all of this unfold with the bemused exhaustion. He took another long sip of coffee, savoring the warmth like it might somehow balance out the heat of the room.

“I thought you weren’t hungry?” Eddie asked, motioning lazily to his now slightly emptier plate. “Isn’t Rivera making some big breakfast thing this morning?”

Buck’s voice came from down the hall now, where he was rifling through the coat rack for his bag. “Like I said I'm not that hungry, I’ll just wait until I get to the—”

His sentence was abruptly cut off by a low, unmistakable rumble from his stomach that seemed to echo off the hallway walls.

Eddie grinned into his coffee cup.

He huffed out a breath as he stood, carrying his plate to the sink. As he leaned forward to set the dish down, a sharp twinge radiated across his lower back and he let out a quiet groan, one hand instinctively flying behind him to clutch the sore spot.

From the front door, Buck immediately noticed. “Are you sure you can drive with your back like that?” he asked, halfway through jamming his foot into a sneaker, his voice all furrowed with concern and focused attention.

Eddie straightened up slowly, one brow raised, trying not to grimace. “Yes, Buck, I’m fine. I didn’t pull a disk, I probably just bruised it.”

Buck wasn’t convinced. “Okay, let me see.”

Eddie turned slightly, making a face like Buck had just asked him to drop his pants in public. “Buck, come on, you’re going to be late for work. Or even more late, I should say.”

“Well,” Buck said, planting both feet and crossing his arms, clearly not going anywhere. “The faster you let me see, the faster this can be over with and I can go.”

There was no winning with him when he got that look — stubborn and earnest and way too concerned for someone who was supposed to be halfway out the door already. Eddie sighed and turned around, his back to Buck, and then he reluctantly lifted the back of his shirt, fingers hesitating just a beat before tugging the hem up to expose the strip of skin above his waistband.

Buck stepped forward. “Is it alright if I—?” he asked, voice quiet and oddly reverent.

Eddie nodded. Or tried to. His throat felt suddenly tight and his voice was nowhere to be found, so he gave the smallest nod, the movement jerky and uncertain.

Buck’s fingers were careful as they brushed against the skin of Eddie’s lower back. He didn’t press too hard, just moved his thumb in soft, deliberate circles to feel for any swelling or obvious bruising. Goosebumps flared across Eddie’s arms almost immediately.

Buck shifted his hand slightly higher, then to the side. “Does it hurt here?” he asked, thumb grazing a particularly tender spot just above Eddie’s waistline.

Eddie had to clear his throat, blinking hard at the floor. “Mmh, not really. Like I said,” he began, then paused to gather his voice. “It’s probably just bruised. I don’t think I hit my tailbone or anything…”

His voice trailed off as Buck’s hand lingered just a second longer than strictly necessary. Neither of them said anything for a beat — the kitchen suddenly silent except for the ticking clock and Chris humming faintly in the distance.

Buck let his hand hover for just a second longer than necessary before he gently, almost reluctantly, tugged Eddie’s shirt back down over his skin. His fingers brushed against the fabric, smoothing it instinctively. Then he stepped back, clearing his throat like he was shaking something off.

“Well,” Buck said, trying to sound casual, though his voice still carried a soft edge, “it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Then his tone dipped a bit lower, warmer, quieter. “Make sure you put some Neosporin on it. And just… don’t bend down or move too much today, alright? When you’re at the store, ask one of the workers to help load the groceries into the car.”

Eddie let out a low laugh, half amused, half trying to cover up the flustered warmth that had settled in his chest. “Buck, I don’t need to—”

But then Buck stepped in again, just a little too close, his breath suddenly brushing over the sensitive skin of Eddie’s neck. It was barely a breeze, but in the stifling, sticky heat of the broken AC, it felt like a gust of air straight from heaven. Eddie swallowed hard.

“Don’t be stubborn, Eddie,” Buck said, and there was something so soft and certain in the way he said it. “Just listen to me, yeah?”

Eddie didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he could. His throat was thick and dry, and his brain was still catching up to the sudden proximity and the impossible intimacy threaded through something as simple as first aid advice.

Buck leaned back slightly, catching Eddie’s eyes just for a moment. “We’ll check it again tonight. Just in case it gets worse.”

And then, mercifully or maddeningly, the moment was broken by Chris yelling from the front hallway, his voice pitched with urgency, “Buck, let’s gooo! We’re gonna be so late!”

Buck jolted into motion, already halfway to the door, grabbing his bag off the floor and shooing Chris out with a rushed, “Okay okay, I’m coming!”

He had one foot out the door when he called back over his shoulder, “I’m taking your car! Leaving the Jeep keys by the door — it’s higher up so you don’t have to bend to load the groceries!”

Before Eddie could even form a response, the door slammed shut with a familiar thud.

And just like that, the kitchen was still again.

His coffee had gone lukewarm. And Eddie Diaz stood there in the middle of it all — heart hammering, shirt sticking slightly to his back, a dull ache still lingering in his spine — blinking around like he’d just walked out of a heatwave and straight into a dream.

God help him.

***

Later that morning, with the sun already climbing high and in the merciless and clear sky, Eddie sat behind the wheel of the Jeep, the windows cracked just enough to let in some semblance of moving air — though it did little to combat the fact that the AC was still very much broken. The seat was hot beneath him, his t-shirt already beginning to stick to the small of his back, and when he touched the steering wheel it burned like the surface of the damn sun. He hissed under his breath and blew on his palm.

In the passenger seat, the grocery list fluttered slightly in the breeze. It was a sheet ripped from the magnetic notepad they kept stuck to the fridge — the one with the silly cartoon fire trucks on it that Buck had insisted on buying like a five-year-old. The handwriting was unmistakably Buck’s: neat little loops and curled letters, perfectly aligned and somehow just a little extra. A tiny doodle of a peanut butter jar sat next to “get the crunchy kind this time please :)” and it made Eddie huff a quiet laugh despite himself.

He tapped his fingers on the wheel as the Jeep rolled to a stop at a red light. The road shimmered ahead in the heat. And while he waited, the morning slipped back into his mind — the last few weeks did, actually. Slid in slow and soft and for once it was invited.

Living with Buck had already felt easy before it even officially started. They’d been dancing around it for so long — practically halfway there with how often Buck stayed over, how naturally Chris had started asking Buck if he was going home with them, how the grocery shopping and coffee-making and Thursday-night-laundry had somehow already become shared. But now that it was official? Now that Buck’s dresser had moved in, and his weird alarm clock and his favorite cereal and his lemon-scented dish soap were part of the daily rhythm?

It was seamless. Effortless. And, if Eddie was being honest — which he was only allowing himself to be when alone — it was also terrifying in how right it felt.

Every morning started with the low rumble of Buck’s footsteps coming down the hall and the scent of his coffee, always just slightly too sweet. Every evening ended with the sound of Buck’s laugh, or his toothbrush tapping the edge of the sink, or sometimes just silence, the kind that was full and comforting and said, I’m here. You’re not alone.

And now they were a team — not just at work, not just as friends, not just for Chris. But at home. At home.

Eddie blinked back to the present as the light turned green. He shifted gears, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching out to keep the grocery list from blowing off the seat.

He had errands to run, a sore back to nurse, and a bruising moment from the kitchen that was still echoing quietly somewhere under his ribs.

And he really needed to get some damn orange juice.

***

The day after Eddie and Chris had come home was one Eddie will probably always remember. It had only been a few hours since the sun came up, but the Diaz household was still blanketed in a soft quiet. 

Eddie stirred first, blinking awake on the couch with his arm slung off the side and a crick in his neck from sleeping upright. Buck was still there too, slouched on the opposite end of the couch, one leg bent awkwardly under him, his head tilted back and mouth slightly open — sleeping like he hadn’t in days. Eddie took a second just to look at him. Not in a way he’d let himself do often, but now, in the hush of the morning, it felt safe. Like the world hadn’t noticed they were awake yet, so he could get away with it.

Eventually, the day started to hum back to life, slow and gentle.

Chris shuffled into the kitchen somewhere around noon, barefoot and tousled, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He stopped in the doorway, blinking against the light, and then grinned when he spotted Buck, now up and moving around the kitchen like he lived there — because he kind of did.

“God, is it so good to have you back in this house,” Buck said, his face lighting up as he bent down slightly to give Chris a tight, warm hug. His voice was still scratchy from sleep, but his grin was all sunshine.

Chris laughed, voice light and still sleepy. “It’s good to be back. I missed my old room.”

Buck ruffled his hair gently. “Your things are still there, untouched. I didn’t even steal any of your comics.”

Chris smirked. “That’s because you were too busy missing me to even step into the room.”

“Guilty,” Buck said with a grin.

Then Chris perked up as he opened the fridge. “Hey, can I have some of that lasagna and cheesy bread from last night? Dad and I didn’t get to eat it.”

“Of course,” Buck said, already reaching for the containers. “You want me to heat it up?”

“Please,” Chris said, plopping into a chair and opening up one of his comics.

At the kitchen table, Eddie sat with his newspaper, pen in hand, halfway through the crossword puzzle in the corner. He didn’t say much, but his eyes were awake and watching. Buck, moving with familiar ease, poured two cups of coffee and slid one across the table without even asking.

Black. Two sugars. Eddie’s favorite mug — the ceramic one with the faded Dodgers logo.

Eddie looked up, catching Buck’s eyes for a second and giving him a soft, sleepy smile. The kind that didn’t need any words. Buck smiled back before turning to pop the lasagna into the microwave and plate the cheesy bread. He hummed to himself, some tune from the radio still stuck in his head, low and lazy.

Chris flipped a page in his comic and asked, “So what are we doing today? Can we go to the zoo?”

“Maybe,” Eddie replied.

“No, wait—what about the aquarium? Or—ooh! The beach!” Chris suddenly sat up straighter, excited. “Not the pier, though. It’s always too crowded and loud since they rebuilt it. But there’s a beach further south — Jamie told me about it. He said it’s really nice, and not a lot of people go there…”

Buck set the plates on the table and raised a brow at Eddie as if to say, well, what do you think?

Eddie chuckled, setting down his pen. “Sounds like we’ve got options.”

Chris nodded emphatically. “We’ve gotta go somewhere . It’s our first weekend back, and we’re all together.”

Buck lifted his coffee and bumped it gently against Eddie’s. Eddie clinked his mug back and gave him a smile that was all in his eyes.

Christopher rambled on, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement about all the potential day trip destinations. His hair was still tousled from sleep, and the comic book in his hand had long since been forgotten in favor of mapping out the rest of their weekend with reckless enthusiasm.

Eddie shook his head fondly, a little laugh still caught in his chest as he looked over at Buck. He quirked a brow, eyes saying, you want to handle this one?

Buck caught the signal right away.

“Well,” Buck said, sitting back a little in his chair and lifting his mug again, “lucky for you guys, I’ve got today and tomorrow off. So we can totally do every fun activity on your list. Zoo, aquarium, beach, whatever you want.”

Chris’s grin widened—until Buck added, “Tomorrow. But today, we have to unpack all this stuff from the U-Haul. Otherwise, your dad’s gonna have to pay for keeping it another day.”

Christopher groaned dramatically, slumping back into his chair. “Ugh, fine. ”

Eddie, always ready to soften the blow, leaned in a bit with that dad-smile of his. “Hey, don’t worry, bud. We’ve got a bunch of people coming over today to help, and I know you’re excited to see them.”

Chris tilted his head, still trying to act unimpressed, but his curiosity clearly piqued.

“Aunt Hen and Karen are coming,” Eddie said, watching the spark flicker in his son's eyes. “And they’re bringing Denny and Mara. So you’ll get to hang out with him. We’ll set up the Switch in the living room so once the adults finish moving stuff, you guys can play.”

Chris perked up at that, his little smirk giving him away.

“Plus,” Eddie continued, “Jee is coming with Maddie and Chim. So it’s gonna be a whole party. And once we get everything inside, we can all help you redecorate your room however you want. Go through old stuff, see what you wanna keep, maybe donate or move things to the garage. Make it yours again.”

Chris nodded slowly, clearly warming up to the idea, though he was still holding onto a little of his teenage attitude.

“And,” Buck jumped in, nudging Chris lightly with his elbow, “it’ll be way more fun to do it today. With everyone helping, we’ll knock it out super fast. Then we won’t have to worry about anything for the rest of the summer. Just you, us, and whatever adventures you wanna plan.”

That finally cracked the boy’s act. Chris gave a small smile, his eyes flicking between the two men sitting across from him, the two halves of his home, and he nodded.

“Alright,” he said with a mock sigh. “But only because I want to boss you guys around when it comes to my room.”

Buck reached over and held out his hand. “Deal.”

Chris slapped his palm into Buck’s, sealing it.

Eddie leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee again as he watched them, that invisible thread of gratitude tugging at his chest. For the way Chris looked at Buck. For the way Buck just fit here, in this house, in their lives.

Like they never left.

“Alright,” Eddie said, pushing his chair back. “Let’s finish breakfast and then get to it. The sooner we’re done, the sooner I can get that damn truck off the driveway.”

“Language,” Buck said, mock-scandalized.

Chris snorted. Eddie just smirked.

They finished the rest of their mismatched breakfast, and then Chris looked up from his plate after a beat. “So… what time is everyone coming?”

Buck checked the clock above the stove. “Noon,” he said. “Which gives us—” he squinted. “About an hour and fifty-two minutes to get ready for the chaos.”

Chris let out a dramatic groan. “So basically ten minutes.”

Both Eddie and Buck laughed, and then the house fell into that familiar rhythm of anticipation—the cleaning up, the prepping, the quiet excitement of knowing their little world was about to be full again.

And by the time noon hit, it was full.

The front door had barely stopped opening and closing for ten minutes straight. The house buzzed with noise—chaotic and loud and joyful.

In the driveway, Eddie and Chim were knee-deep in the U-Haul truck, hauling out boxes labeled with black Sharpie: Eddie’s Clothes , Kitchen , Books , Chris – Room Stuff . Chim huffed out a breath and said something about Eddie needing to toss half the stuff he’d hoarded, and Eddie rolled his eyes, sweat already forming at his temples.

Some boxes were dragged straight to the garage. Others made it into the hallway, or were stacked neatly in the bedroom. Chim was efficient. Eddie was determined. Between them, the truck was steadily emptying.

Inside, Mara and Jee had taken over the dining table, their crayons and glitter pens fanned out like a rainbow. They were giggling over some drawing they were doing together—something involving a unicorn, a firefighter, and a lava pit. Every so often, one of them shrieked with sweet laughter, and the noise filtered through the house like sunlight.

In the bedroom, Buck and Maddie had taken over organizing the closet. Maddie was perched on the bed, folding shirts, while Buck stood half-buried in the closet, pulling clothes off hangers and mumbling about needing to donate half of it.

“Do you need four navy-blue hoodies, Buck?” Maddie called.

“They’re different,” Buck insisted.

“Sure they are.”

They kept sorting, laughing between themselves, the air light and teasing. Maddie nudged Buck with her foot when she passed over Eddie’s old sweatshirt that had ended up mixed in. Buck blinked down at it and quietly refolded it before setting it in a small drawer.

Hen and Karen were in full interior designer mode in the living room. Karen had taken it upon herself to rearrange the throw pillows—again—while Hen was balancing a framed photo on her palm and trying to decide which wall it should go on. They shifted knickknacks, potted plants, coffee table books, and more, making space for Eddie’s things to slot in like they were before he had moved away.

Chris’s room was its own whirlwind. Posters were strewn across the floor—superheroes, space stuff, soccer players. Chris and Denny were both crouched by the desk, sorting through gadgets and little keepsakes Chris had collected over the years.

“You’ve got so much cool stuff,” Denny said, holding up a tiny glass shark sculpture.

“I forgot I even had that,” Chris grinned, grabbing it and immediately setting it up on one of the new shelves. “You should see what I found in this box—it’s the remote control car my uncle Alejandro gave me. I thought it got lost when we moved here years ago.”

Denny smiled. “You’re gonna need more shelves.”

Chris laughed, a of warm, full laugh that made Eddie pause for a moment in the hallway, box in his arms, just to listen, before heading back out to the driveway.

This was it. This was exactly what he wanted.

Their new beginning wasn't just beginning anymore—it was here .

Karen stepped into Chris’ room and came to a full stop, her gaze lifting slowly as her eyes widened. “Whoa,” she said, low and reverent, her voice echoing the awe in her expression as she stared up at the ceiling. The painted galaxy above glimmered faintly with subtle hints of silver and violet, deep cobalt, and scattered stars—soft and swirling and full of movement even when still.

Denny, spinning lazily in Chris’ desk chair, craned his neck up and grinned. “Whoa, that looks so cool when it’s all spinning.”

Chris, sitting cross-legged on his bed, looked up too, his face glowing with pride. He followed Karen’s gaze, then flicked his eyes to her and said, “Yeah, Buck and I started it a while ago, before I left for Texas. And then when I got back last night I noticed it kinda in the dark. And then he really showed me it this morning..”

Karen’s hand instinctively pressed to her chest, touched. “That’s beautiful,” she said softly. Then, raising her voice just enough to carry through the house, she called out, “Hey, Buck! Did you freehand this?”

Buck appeared in the hallway a second later, still holding a folded flannel shirt in one hand, Maddie behind him, one palm settled over the curve of her belly.

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a little shrug, “yeah. We started it before Chris left, just the background and rough sketches and chalk lines, and… I dunno. I couldn’t sleep one night, so I figured I’d finish it before they got back home.”

Karen arched a brow, impressed. “That’s some talent, Buck. It’s like— actual art.”

Maddie grinned, brushing past him a little so she could join Karen at the doorway. “You should see the one in the bedroom,” she said, voice playful.

Karen immediately poked her head around the corner and peered into the room Eddie and Buck now shared (or maybe not– they weren’t quite sure what the sleeping arrangements were going to be like but they sure did speculate in the groupchat).

Her eyebrows shot up again. “ Whoa again.”

The wall behind the bed was a soft, breathtaking gradient—a warm gold and coral sunrise that faded into pale blue and white, like morning stretching across a quiet sky. Subtle silhouettes of birds and treetops added depth, like it was a snapshot taken mid-dream.

Buck followed her line of sight and rubbed his palms on his jeans, suddenly bashful. “Yeah, uh—I really loved painting when I was little. Used to do it all the time, but I stopped for a long time. Then one night, I just… couldn’t sleep. And I remembered Eddie saying once that he loves watching the sunrise. Said it made everything feel a little less heavy, like the world reset for a second.”

He laughed quietly, eyes dropping. “So I thought maybe waking up to it every day would feel peaceful. And… yeah.”

Karen turned slowly to look at him, her face soft and touched, but she didn’t say anything.

Behind Buck, Maddie gave Karen a knowing little look—a smirk barely concealed behind a sip from her water bottle. Buck, oblivious, continued to fidget.

Karen tried to hide her grin by covering her mouth with her fingers, eyes sparkling.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mouthed to Maddie.

Maddie just winked.

And back in his room, Chris was showing Denny his galaxy ceiling again, voices excited.

Eddie and Chim rounded the corner into the hallway, both carrying boxes stacked just high enough to make navigating a bit clumsy. Chim’s eyebrows jumped at the crowd gathered near Chris’ door.

“What is this?” Chim asked, shifting his box higher in his arms. “Are we congregating in the hallway now? We missing out on a party?”

Karen, still grinning, hooked a finger through the crook of his elbow and tugged him toward the doorway. “Come look at this,” she said, her voice full of delight. “You’re gonna want to see it.”

She guided him to the threshold of Chris’s room and pointed up toward the ceiling.

Chim tilted his head back and let out a whistle. “Whoa. Buckaroo, that looks awesome . Did you do this yourself?”

Buck, still in the hallway, rubbed his neck and gave a half-smile, the faintest dusting of pink coloring his ears. “Yeah, uh… yeah. Just a little something I started before they left, finished it the other night.”

Eddie, standing beside him, caught the tone of Buck’s voice—quiet, a little shy, the kind of tone he always got when someone complimented him on something that really mattered. His chest gave a subtle, silent squeeze. Cute little shy voice, he thought with a quiet smirk, filing it away in that corner of his brain where all the Buck-related things went.

What the hell are you thinking? Snap out of it. Cute little voice, it’s just Buck’s voice. Your best friend's voice that you’ve always heard , Eddie repeated in his head.

“Well,” Eddie said, lifting his voice a little, “since those are the last two boxes, I say we officially call it.” He clapped his hands together once to try to get them to stop sweating. “Break time. I ordered sandwiches from Greg’s bodega down the block.”

That got everyone’s attention. Voices perked up around the house—Maddie calling from the bedroom, Hen popping her head out from the living room, Chris and Denny suddenly rushing toward the kitchen in anticipation.

“What kind did you get?” Maddie asked. “Did you get my Steak and Swiss?”

“And my chicken cutlet with the chili garlic aioli?” Hen added.

Eddie just chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he carried his box into the bedroom and reemerged a few seconds later, brushing off his hands.

“Yes, yes,” he said, in that dad voice that was both patient and exasperated. “I got everyone’s usual. Steak for Maddie since you’re not doing deli meat. Chicken cutlet for Hen. Karen’s roasted veggie with goat cheese. Buck’s turkey pesto. Chim’s roast beef with extra pickles.”

There was a chorus of approving sounds and satisfied grunts around him.

“And I got the kids their favorites, too—Denny’s grilled cheese with tomato soup on the side and gluten-free bread, ham and cheese sandwich with a apple slices for Jee, and Chris’s turkey and cheddar but no mustard, no tomato, just like last time.”

Karen gave him a grateful smile. “You’re seriously the best.”

Buck nudged him gently with his shoulder. “Overachiever.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the proud little grin that crept across his face. “Someone’s gotta make sure you all don’t starve.”

Not long after, the doorbell rang. Buck was already halfway to the front door before anyone else could move.

“I got it,” he called, jogging to meet the delivery guy with a warm grin and a “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

The food was brought in, bags rustling and the smell of fresh bread, pickles, and warm soup trailing in behind him. They spread out into the living room and dining area, plates passed around, chips grabbed in handfuls, sodas and sparkling waters popped open with cheerful fizz.

It wasn’t quiet—not even close—but it was good. Full of laughter and overlapping conversation, of clinking glasses and soft music playing from someone’s phone in the corner. Buck was sitting on the floor with Chris and Denny, helping them split their chips evenly. Maddie was curled up on one end of the couch, feet in Chim’s lap. Hen and Karen sat side by side, sharing bites of each others sandwiches. Jee and Mara were sitting in the corner of the living room,on a beanbag chair they found in the garage, giggling over silly drawings.

Eddie leaned back in his chair at the table, half-eaten sandwich in his hand, eyes scanning the room.

He didn’t say it out loud. Didn’t have to.

They were home.

***

The parking lot was already packed when Eddie pulled in. He had to circle twice before finding a spot a little further out under the shade of a palm tree. With the list from the fridge folded in half and tucked into his back pocket, he stepped into the supermarket, the cool blast of AC hitting his face like a wall.

The produce section was right at the front, laid out in neat, vibrant rows of fruits and vegetables under warm lights. He grabbed a cart, the wheel squeaking a little, and made his way through the section with quiet efficiency, scanning the list as he went. Buck’s handwriting—those slightly crooked, looping cursive letters—stood out on the page. Eddie ran his thumb over the ink for just a second before moving.

He started with fruit—grapes, strawberries, watermelon slices. Then a few lemons and limes, some for marinades and the rest for Buck’s obsession with making everything taste “brighter.” Vegetables next: bell peppers, red onion, corn still in husks, and a few avocados that he carefully squeezed to find the ones that weren’t rock-hard.

By the time he got to the bakery, the cart was half full. He grabbed fresh burger buns, sandwich rolls, and a box of those soft snickerdoodle cookies Chris always snuck more than one of when he thought nobody was looking.

Then it was down the aisles—for the usual food they would need to stock in the house. He added in a pack of sparkling water for Maddie, Chim’s favorite Korean chili paste, and the vegan hot dogs Karen liked that were all on the list because Buck always liked having stuff he knew his family and friends would love to eat at the house.

Eddie remembered. Buck always remembered, but Eddie was trying to get better about that too.

He moved through the store with the quiet rhythm of someone who’d done this more times than he could count—his hands familiar with the feel of produce bags, the weight of gallon jugs of iced tea, the way Buck wrote “don’t forget the ice” in all caps and underlined twice like it was a moral imperative because Bobby stated multiple times not only through text, but at the Firehouse the day before as well that everyone coming needed to bring a bag of ice so they had enough for the drinks.

Eventually, Eddie rounded the last aisle, already mentally checking off what still needed to be done before going to pick up Chris and making his way over to Athena and Bobby’s later in the afternoon. 

Unpack the groceries. 

Go to the post office and change his mail address back to here. 

Vacuum the hallway. 

Unpack a bit of clothing. 

Maybe swing by the DMV to see when he can make an appointment to change his license plate to a California one.

But then he turned the corner and groaned low in his throat.

Every cashier line was full. He could already hear the whine of a baby crying two registers down and the teenage employee at self-checkout trying very hard not to panic.

Eddie muttered under his breath in Spanish, something about how this was exactly why he should’ve come yesterday.

“Por el amor de Dios…” he sighed. Of course. Memorial Day weekend. Half the city was probably stocking up for their own barbecues, picnics, pool parties, the works.

He ran a hand over his face, adjusted his cap, and looked down at his cart, packed to the brim with everything they needed. He thought briefly about leaving it there and walking out. He could text Buck, say he was calling it a day, say–

But Eddie just exhaled sharply through his nose, resigned, and got in line.

His thumb found the edge of the paper list in his pocket again and he rubbed it absently. Buck’s messy handwriting. Their fridge. Their grocery list.

Yeah. He could wait.

Eddie shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the line inched forward, inch by painful inch. He was halfway through debating whether he should ditch the paper towels or the extra lemonade when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Felix

He swiped to answer, already knowing what this meant.

“Hey, man,” Eddie said, bringing the phone to his ear. His other hand stayed on the cart, steering it a few inches forward again.

“Eddie! Hey, sorry, bro—I’m running a little behind. Downtown was a mess, like bumper to bumper. But I’ll be at your place in about five, okay?”

Eddie immediately tensed. Shit. He pulled his phone away and looked at the time.

11:10 AM. 

How was it already this late? And how the hell did he not realize?

His eyes darted toward the checkouts again, calculating how long five minutes was compared to how many carts were still in front of him.

“No problem, Felix,” he said quickly, trying to keep the stress out of his voice. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it quick,” Felix promised. “It’s probably just a capacitor or something simple. I’ll scope it out as soon as I get there.”

“Yeah, yeah, sounds good,” Eddie said, already pulling the phone away to make another call.

He hung up, hit Patricia’s contact, and brought the phone back to his ear. Two rings.

“Hola, mi niño,” Patricia answered warmly, her voice full of sunshine and spices, like always. Eddie could practically smell her garden from here.

“Hola, señora Patricia,” he said with a quick smile, switching into Spanish easily. “¿Cómo estás?”

“Bien, bien, just here preparing some empanadas for the barbecue you guys invited me to tonight,” she replied cheerfully. “¿Qué pasa?”

Eddie exhaled. “Would you be able to do me a huge favor? Por favor”

“Of course, dime,” she said, and he could already hear her shifting things around, ready to move.

“Felix is going to get to the house in five minutes to fix the air conditioning,” he explained. “Do you think you could go to the house with your key and let him in? He’s going to need to check the system inside, but most of the work is outside.”

“Of course,” she replied without hesitation. “Don’t worry. I’ll open the door for him and stay until you get there.”

Eddie’s shoulders dropped a little, the tension bleeding out of them. “Thank you so much Patricia. Seriously. You saved me.”

“Always, bello,” she said, and he could hear her smile through the phone. “Tell Buck I want to see him at the next wine night, okay?”

Eddie laughed, already picturing Buck holding court with a glass of white wine and five middle-aged women hyping him up like he was Ricky Martin. “Le dire.”

“All right, I’m going to head over right now then. See you soon!”

Eddie hung up and let out a long breath as he slipped the phone back into his pocket. The cart squeaked forward again, and he looked at it with fresh resolve. AC was covered. They would have food for the week.

Everything was under control. Kind of.

He glanced up at the ceiling of the store and muttered, “Barely,” before finally rolling up to the cashier and starting to unload the cart.

The day wasn’t even halfway over yet, and somehow it already felt full. But not in a bad way. In a home-full way.

And that made the chaos worth it.

***

Eddie loaded the last of the bags into the backseat of the jeep, ignoring the twinge in his back, and was careful not to let any of the eggs or tomatoes get squished. He could feel the heat of the day pressing against him, and it had him moving faster than usual.

With the bags crammed into his backseat, Eddie slammed the trunk shut, then quickly jumped into the driver's seat. He threw the car into drive, his foot immediately pressing down on the gas. The car zipped out of the parking lot, and Eddie couldn’t help but glance at the rearview mirror. He was determined not to have a run-in with Athena, who had pulled him over once before on the way to a family party for speeding through the neighborhood. She wasn’t shy about giving him a piece of her mind, and Eddie didn’t need any more of that today.

Eddie drove through the winding neighborhood roads, letting the familiar sights of home come into view. The warm breeze from his open windows cooled his skin just enough to make him feel like he could take a breath.

By the time Eddie reached his driveway, he felt the small jolt of satisfaction of getting home in under ten minutes without breaking any laws. He stepped out of the car, his back already aching from the hustle of the day. He grabbed the bags from the backseat, making sure to hurry as much as he could without jostling anything fragile. The familiar scent of warm pavement and freshly cut grass hit him as he jogged up the driveway. Felix’s truck was parked near the garage, and Eddie couldn't help but feel a bit of relief. At least things were moving forward with the AC.

He pushed open the front door, hearing the sound of familiar voices drifting through the house. Felix’s deep laugh mixed with Patricia’s lighter tone as they chatted in the kitchen. Eddie took a quick breath, letting the quiet hum of the house comfort him before he made his way down the hallway toward the kitchen.

As he approached the closet that housed the AC system, he spotted Felix leaning into the small space. His back was to Eddie as he fiddled with the wires, but it didn’t take long before Felix turned around and caught sight of him. A wide grin spread across Felix’s face, and he stood up straight, wiping his hands on his work pants.

“Eddie! Man, it’s been too long,” Felix said as he walked toward him, extending his arms for a quick hug. Eddie met him halfway, pulling him into a friendly, but firm embrace. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.”

Eddie clapped Felix on the back, shaking his head. “It’s all good, man. Don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there. You know how it is with Memorial Day weekend.”

“I do indeed,” Felix replied with a chuckle, before pulling away from the hug. “But I got the AC unit covered, don’t you worry. Just checking a few things in here, and we’ll be good.”

Eddie smiled, relieved. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

After a moment of nodding, Eddie stepped into the kitchen, where Patricia sat at the table, her bright magenta shawl draped around her shoulders. She was fanning herself gently with a small handheld fan, dabbing her forehead with a napkin as if trying to stave off the heat that clung to the air.

"Hola, Patricia," Eddie greeted her, walking over with a smile. "I owe you big time for this."

She looked up from her fan, smiling warmly at him. "Don’t worry, mi niño," she said in her lilting Spanish accent. "You know I always help my neighbors. And besides," she winked playfully, "I get to see my favorite handyman again."

Eddie grinned at her words. "Felix is a pretty good incentive to get you to drop everything, huh?"

Patricia gave a little shrug, still smiling. “Well, it’s a lot easier than getting the AC fixed on my own, don’t you think?”

He chuckled, moving to place the bags on the counter, then nodded toward the fan she was using. "Looks like you're already feeling the heat. How bad is it in here?"

“Oh, you know,” she said with a dramatic sigh, “not as bad as the rest of the house, but it’s still... hot.” She dabbed her forehead again, fanning herself with a little more energy. “Tell your friend I expect him to make this place cool again. No excuses!”

“Don’t worry, he’s on it,” Eddie reassured her, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. “Felix works fast.”

"Good," Patricia said with a little nod. "The sooner, the better."

Eddie smiled, feeling the sense of relief grow. He walked over to the kitchen counter and started unpacking the bags from the grocery store. As he moved, he glanced over his shoulder at Patricia, making sure to keep an eye on her for any more complaints about the heat. When she waved him off with a flick of her fan, he felt like maybe—just maybe—today was going to be okay.

Eddie stepped to the side a bit and reached up to the cabinet where the glasses were. He plucked three out of the cabinet and filled them with cold water, the cool liquid a relief after the heat of the day. As he placed the glasses down, he began to narrate how insane the supermarket had been. “It was like everyone in the city had the same idea to stock up for a barbecue,” he laughed, shaking his head. "The lines were out the door. I think I spent half my day just waiting."

Felix chuckled from the hallway, his voice muffled as he checked the outside AC unit. “Sounds about right. People forget to buy the food for the barbecue until the last minute, then panic when they realize they’re not the only ones.”

Patricia, ever the listener, nodded sympathetically. “I’d say you’re lucky to get out of there without an argument.”

Eddie raised his glass. “Consider that my win for the day,” he joked before taking a sip.

Felix appeared in the kitchen again, wiping his hands on a rag as he closed the door behind him. “Alright, everything looks good in there,” he said, sounding satisfied. “Let me go check the system outside and make sure it’s running smoothly.”

“Thanks, Felix,” Eddie said, then looked over at Patricia. “I really appreciate you staying here for this.”

“Of course,” she said, waving him off. “No problem at all. Besides, I get to catch up with you too. Now, where are those muffins Buck was talking about yesterday at wine night?”

Eddie grinned, grabbing the plate of freshly baked muffins from the counter. “Ah, here they are! Buck made these yesterday afternoon, so they should still be nice and moist.”

“Mm, looks like he’s got a good hand with baked goods. How's he holding up with everything?” Patricia asked as she took a muffin, breaking it in half and offering the other half to Eddie.

Eddie hesitated for a moment, his mind flashing to the morning and the way he’d felt after their conversation. He hadn’t talked much about it yet. “He’s fine. You know how he is—always putting others first. He’s been great, especially with everything that’s been going on, with the move back and everything being a bit crazy right now with Chris’s summer program and we’re still waiting for me to get back to work.” He smiled slightly, remembering Buck’s attentiveness. “But he’s honestly been such a rock through all of these changes. He remembers all these little things and just knows exactly how to ease some of my anxiety.”

Patricia nodded, her eyes softening. “He’s a good one you’ve got there” She smirked, holding the muffin half up to Eddie. “The whole street’s always been fond of him.”

Eddie smiled back, his chest tightening a little with appreciation. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m lucky to have him. We all are.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, nibbling on the muffins, their chatter about life and neighbors filling the air. Patricia’s teasing laughter made Eddie forget about the rush of the day, the stress of the errands, and the repairs. 

After a while, their talk turned to their grumpy neighbor, Stan. “Have you heard him yelling at that poor delivery guy again?” Patricia asked, her voice full of amusement. "He’s got to be the most ridiculous old man on the block."

Eddie chuckled. “I swear, Stan thinks the world owes him a favor. It’s like he forgets how to talk to people politely.”

Patricia shook her head. “Maybe he needs a hobby. Or a girlfriend, although I doubt anyone would be able to put up with him.”

The two of them burst into laughter at that, and Eddie couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth settle in his chest. Moments like these made him realize how lucky they were to have such good people in their lives.

Eventually, the conversation shifted back to more practical matters. Patricia caught Eddie up on some of the neighborhood gossip, and they exchanged stories in a comfortable blend of Spanish and English, their voices soft, the words flowing easily between them. The day was winding down, and despite the hectic start, it felt good at that very moment, knowing the rest of the day would be bubbling into its better part soon for the barbecue.

It wasn’t long before Felix returned inside, wiping his hands on a rag. “The outside unit’s good,” he said, giving Eddie a thumbs-up. “We’re all set.”

Eddie smiled, his mind already drifting to the gathering at Bobby and Athena's later. “Thanks again, Felix. You’re a lifesaver.”

“No problem, man,” Felix said with a grin. “Anytime.”

With everything in place, Eddie felt the weight of the day slowly start to lift. 

***

The morning sun was already warm on Buck’s shoulders as he pulled into the small lot beside the rec center. Chris was chatting beside him in the passenger seat, animated and bouncing with excitement about the day’s activities.

Buck parked, killed the engine, and turned to him with a soft grin. “Ready to dominate the ping-pong tournament again?”

Chris rolled his eyes with a smile. “That was one time, Buck. And yesterday’s game wasn’t even a tournament.”

“Details,” Buck teased, ruffling Chris’s curls as they both got out of the car. He grabbed Chris’s backpack from the back seat and slung it over his own shoulder as they walked inside.

The rec center lobby was cool and smelled faintly of sunscreen and floor wax. The woman at the front desk looked up and smiled warmly as they approached. “Morning, Buck! Morning, Chris!”

“Hi, Ms. Linda!” Chris waved enthusiastically.

From the side hallway, a cheerful voice piped in. “Christopher Diaz! Just the kid I was hoping to see!” A woman in a sunny yellow polo came walking up, clipboard in hand—Ms. Janine, the coordinator for today’s activities.

Chris lit up. “Hi, Ms. Janine!”

“We’ve got your favorite relay game set up, and we might need a team captain who knows how to keep things competitive but fair,” she winked.

Chris turned to Buck, clearly fighting the urge to run off, and Buck just nodded at him to go ahead.

 “Okay, bye, Buck!” Chris grinned.

Buck laughed, handing over the backpack. “Have fun, buddy. Don’t go too easy on them.”

Chris was already halfway down the hallway, calling back, “I won’t!”

Buck watched him go with a fond smile before turning back to the front desk. “So, uh, Eddie—Chris’s dad—he’s gonna be here later for pickup, probably around three? Just wanted to make sure that’s all set.”

Ms. Linda nodded brightly and typed something into the computer. “Yep! We’ve got it all here in the system. Pickup by Edmundo Diaz. Perfect. We’re all good for your husband to come pick your guys’s son up this afternoon.”

Buck’s smile froze for a second.

“Oh—uh—Eddie’s —” he started to say, one hand lifting in a tiny, awkward gesture.

But before the words could really come out, Buck’s phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. He glanced down and saw Ravi’s name flashing on the screen. Probably wondering where he was, since Buck was already running late to the firehouse.

He looked back up at Ms. Linda, cheeks faintly pink. He gave a soft, sheepish smile.

“Just– Right… perfect. Thanks.”

And with that, he waved, turned, and hurried out the doors, the quiet buzz of his phone still vibrating in his palm as he walked.

The moment Buck settled into the driver’s seat and clicked his seatbelt into place, his phone connected to the car’s Bluetooth and automatically started dialing Maddie. He hadn’t even realized he hit the call button—muscle memory, probably whenever he got a bit flustered and felt frazzled—but when her voice came on the line, it was less of a greeting and more of a groan.

“Ughhh, what do you want?” she rasped.

Buck laughed, easing the truck into traffic. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

“Don’t call me sunshine. I’m literally lying on the couch with a cold washcloth over my face, and I’ve eaten half a sleeve of saltines in the past hour.”

His brow furrowed slightly in concern. “Still nauseous? I thought that’s supposed to ease up after the first trimester? You’re what—what are you now, just into your third?”

“Yeah,” Maddie muttered, muffled now like she was talking through a pillow. “Nine weeks to go. And apparently this kid didn’t get the memo. This pregnancy doesn’t give a damn about the rules apparently. It’s kicking my ass.”

Buck winced sympathetically as he turned down a side street, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Yikes. You want me to bring you anything later? Ginger ale? Soup? A tranquilizer dart?”

“I’d kill for a tranquilizer dart right now,” she muttered dryly, which made Buck laugh again. “But I think I’ll be okay. I’m gonna try to nap before I have to go get Jee.”

That reminded him. “Oh—speaking of. What time are you heading to the barbecue?”

There was some rustling on her end as she shifted and groaned again. “I’m picking Jee up from Ms. Lee’s around four-thirty. She’s got this little backyard sprinkler thing set up, and Jee’s obsessed. It’s the only reason I’ve gotten any rest today.”

“Smart move,” Buck said with a grin. “Bribe them with water toys.”

“Exactly. I’m bringing that watermelon salad Athena likes—you know, the one with the feta and mint and lime juice? And Chim’s bringing ribs. He was up seasoning them at six this morning.”

“That man is not well,” Buck teased.

“I know,” Maddie sighed affectionately. “But I’m not gonna complain when I’m shoving barbecue into my face later.”

Buck merged onto the highway, drumming the steering wheel in rhythm to a beat that wasn’t playing, just instinctual. “Well, I’m heading over there early. May asked if I could come by and help him with prep, and she said Athena wants to set up some stuff out back—lights, chairs, the whole deal.”

“Of course she does,” Maddie said. “Athena doesn’t host parties. She curates events.”

Buck chuckled. “Exactly. So I figured I’d go help, since Eddie’s picking up Chris from his program this afternoon.”

“Oh good,” Maddie said. “How’s he doing? Chris?”

“Excited,” Buck said, and he couldn’t help the warmth that crept into his voice. “He was bouncing off the walls this morning. I think it’s the combo of the program and seeing all of us later. He and Denny have plans to destroy us in cornhole again.”

“Uh-oh. Should we just surrender now?”

“I mean, probably. Those two are terrifying when they team up.”

“Yeah but we’re superior,” Maddie said, a smile clear in her voice. 

“True that. We Buckley siblings sure do know how to dominate when it comes to backyard games.”

Maddie laughed, but Buck could still hear the exhaustion hanging in her voice. He felt that tug in his chest—protective, affectionate, helpless. “Anyway,” he continued, “Eddie’s gonna bring Chris over later with the drinks and all the stuff we’re bringing. I just hope I don’t burn Bobby’s cornbread like last year.”

“Oh god, please don’t. Chim won’t let you live it down if you do.”

“I’ve got oven timers this time,” Buck promised. “Three of them.”

***

Station 118 was calm for once.

No screaming sirens. No blaring alarms. Just the occasional buzz of conversation, the clank of a mop bucket somewhere downstairs, and the rhythmic tap of Buck’s knife as he chopped cilantro on the kitchen counter.

He was only covering for eight hours, a little favor for a B-shift guy whose kid had a dentist appointment and a surprise ear infection all in one day. Buck didn’t mind. He liked being useful, and days like this—peaceful ones—made it easy to help.

Plus, he had a recipe to finish.

Bobby had given everyone the freedom to bring whatever dish they wanted to the barbecue, and Buck, predictably, had overthought it for days. He finally landed on a tangy corn and black bean salad that could be served cold, made ahead of time, and survived hours sitting next to potato chips and lukewarm beer without anyone getting food poisoning. Low stakes. High impact.

But then he decided to go one step further, as he always did, and offered to make the cornbread that Bobby typically makes but since he’ll be busy grilling with Chim, Buck decided to take it off his plate.

He was just starting to zest a lime when he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs to the loft.

“Ravi!” Buck called over his shoulder before the guy even had a chance to announce himself. “Perfect. Come here. I need help.”

Ravi appeared at the top of the stairs, brow lifted in suspicion. “You say that like I have a choice.”

“You don’t,” Buck replied without looking up, gesturing with the lime zester like it was an order. “You’re my sous-chef now.”

“I’m not even on kitchen duty,” Ravi protested, but his feet were already carrying him over, pulled in by curiosity and the general gravitational force that was Buck.

Buck handed him a folded tea towel and pointed at the red onion. “Dice that. Small pieces. Like, Chris-size pieces.”

“Chris-size?” Ravi echoed, grabbing the cutting board. “What unit of measurement is that?”

“Tiny but mighty,” Buck said, grinning. “And make sure you don’t cry. Bobby says onions can sense fear.”

Ravi snorted. “That sounds fake, but okay.”

“What are you making anyways?” Ravi added.

“ We ,” Buck corrected and Ravi just rolled his eyes, “are making a bean salad that you are gonna finish prepping for me while I get started on the cornbread.”

They got to work side by side. Buck stirred together the dressing, all citrus and smoky cumin, while Ravi muttered under his breath about onion layers and why he didn’t sign up for culinary arts. Buck tossed on a playlist—some old rock, some newer stuff he stole from Chris’ Spotify—and before long, they were moving with a kind of rhythm, bumping elbows, laughing when Ravi tried to flip a mixing spoon like a spatula and nearly sent it flying across the room.

Buck was in his element baking the sweet bread. There was something grounding about cooking in the firehouse kitchen when there wasn’t a crisis looming. It was normal. Domestic, even. The sunlight spilled in from the windows and everything just felt easy for once.

“Hey,” Buck said suddenly, turning to Ravi and tapping the edge of a wooden spoon against the bowl, “you’re still coming to the barbecue tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m working a twelve,” Ravi replied. “So I’ll swing by after. Probably around seven.”

“Cool, cool. Bring that dessert you made last time. What was it again? That mango sticky rice thing?”

Ravi grinned. “You mean the thing Hen’s been asking me to make again for three months? Yeah, it’s already in the fridge at home. I’m not trying to get on her bad side.”

“Smart man,” Buck said. He paused, then nudged him with an elbow. “Hey, thanks for helping, by the way. Even though you complained the whole time.”

“I did not complain the whole time.”

“Okay, ninety percent of the time.”

“Eighty-five. Max.”

They both laughed, and the dish was finally done—colorful and vibrant, just like the evening ahead was shaping up to be.

Buck gave it a final toss, then stepped back and sighed. “Alright. One barbecue party dish, ready to go.”

Ravi raised his hands like he was accepting applause. “We did it. Teamwork. Gordon Ramsay would be proud.”

“Only if we call each other idiot sandwiches a few times.”

“Next time,” Ravi promised.

***

Group Chat: 118 Family Debriefs & Debacles

Santa: Don’t forget—BYOC. Bring your own cooler. I’m not helping to rearrange the fridge again like last time. I suck at Tetris.

Girl Buckley: Chim, we literally have the same fridge. You rearranged it to make space for Jee-Yun’s popsicles and called it a public service.

Santa: And it WAS. No one wants to see a toddler meltdown over half-melted Disney ice.

Mother Hen: Speaking of meltdowns, should we all agree now not to let Buck near the grill this year?

Boy Buckley: HEY. That was ONE TIME. And the burgers were only a little on fire.

Cowboy: You used a whole can of cooking spray on a grill already covered in grease.

Boy Buckley: I was trying to be efficient!!

🧚 Princess: You efficiently summoned a fireball.

Lady Athena Grant: If anyone even thinks about turning this barbecue into a callout for Station 118 again, I’m handcuffing you to a lawn chair.

Evil Genius: Kinky.

Lord Robert Nash: Moving on. I’ve got the ribs smoking as we speak. Hen, you still bringing the veggie skewers?

Mother Hen: Already marinating. Don’t let Eddie eat them all before the guests show up this time.

Cowboy: Not my fault you all cook like gods. I black out near the grill.

🧚 Princess : I’m bringing dessert! And no, not some weird kind with chia seeds like we had last time.

🧚 Princess : I’m looking at you, Maddie.

Girl Buckley: Okay FIRST of all, those were delightful. SECOND, this time it’s cupcakes. Jee helped.

Boy Buckley: Are they shaped like little fire trucks again?

Girl Buckley : We have a theme. Respect the theme.

🧚 Princess: OMG wait, we didn’t even tell you guys what happened on a call this morning yet

Boy Buckley: Tell it rav, go.

🧚 Princess : Alright, so we get called to this house because the neighbor says someone’s screaming for help

Boy Buckley: We’re thinking worst case, right? We bust in, ready to save a life.

🧚 Princess: And it’s just this guy. 

🧚 Princess : Alone

🧚 Princess : In his kitchen 

🧚 Princess : Wearing… socks and nothing else

Mother Hen:  Oh no.

Evil Genius: this isn’t sounding too good lol

🧚 Princess:  He’s standing on the kitchen table, yelling because

Boy Buckley: —there’s a raccoon in his cabinet. Just chillin. Like a little fuzzy home invader.

Evil Genius:  STOP

Santa : What did you do??

🧚 Princess: Well, Buck tried to “coax it out” with half a granola bar.

Boy Buckley: I t was organic. I was being considerate.

Girl Buckley: Of course you were

Cowboy: Sounds like you Buck :)

🧚 Princess: The raccoon took it

🧚 Princess:  Then flipped him off lmaooo

🧚 Princess:  I swear like little paw right to the sky

Lady Athena Grant: I need body cam footage. For legal purposes of course.

Lord Robert Nash: Did you at least get him down off the table?

Boy Buckley: Eventually. After Ravi threatened to take a selfie and post it on Nextdoor.

🧚 Princess: Buck has a weird amount of respect for neighborhood apps.

Cowboy: He really does, he considered them a sacred news source

Boy Buckley: Cause they are!!!!

Girl Buckley: That is the most you two thing I’ve ever heard.

***

Athena and Bobby’s freshly renovated home stood tall and elegant in the same patch of land their old house used to be on. The backyard, once modest and patchy, now stretched into a picture-perfect entertaining space, buzzing gently with the quiet hum of summer. The new patio extended out in clean, wide tiles—soft grays and sun-dappled whites catching the light beneath twinkling string lights that were already starting to glow as dusk crept in.

Rows of folding tables were neatly arranged, draped in light linens with mismatched chairs clustered around them. Cushioned lounge chairs flanked the new fire pit, a few throw pillows casually tossed onto the benches Bobby had built himself over the winter. A drink station with coolers and pitchers stood to the side, already stocked and sweating in the heat. The grill—shiny and definitely not yet broken in—stood like a sentinel at the far corner, smoke gently curling from its hood from the ribs slow cooking in there.

The sun was bright and warm as Buck and May pulled into the driveway, arms full of bags and teasing each other like siblings.

“I told you to get everything at once,” May said as she climbed out, juggling a large bag of ice that clinked with every step.

“I got distracted,” Buck defended, grabbing his canvas grocery bag packed with tomatoes and some impulse chips and the other bag with the salad he and Ravi had made earlier and the cornbread Buck was so incredibly fucking relived to see came out perfectly. “Tomatoes weren’t on my mental list or on my actual list when I bought the stuff for the salad two days ago. But then I started thinking that maybe I could add some more color to it—”

“And you panicked.” May smirked.

“Strategized,” Buck corrected, following her up the steps.

They reached the door and May fumbled for her keys. “Next time you’re in charge of ingredients, I’m requiring a checklist and three contingency plans.”

Buck laughed. “Next time, I’m just letting Bobby handle the food stress. I’ll show up with drinks and charm.”

May opened the door with a flourish. “That’s a generous assessment of what you bring to the table.”

“Excuse you—”

They both stepped inside and immediately froze halfway through the doorway to the living room. May’s mouth dropped open. Buck blinked.

“Oh. Oh no, no, no —” May squeaked.

Buck made a high-pitched noise of horror and promptly turned around, shoving his face into the bag of tomatoes like they were a shield. “Gahh. My eyes! My actual innocent eyes!”

Across the room, Bobby and Athena sprang apart from their rather cozy position on the couch, pulling their faces and bodies away from one another, laughing like two kids caught sneaking around.

May slapped a hand over her face. “ Not again , are you serious?!”

Bobby stood, smoothing his shirt with zero guilt. “You guys could’ve knocked.”

“This is my house, too!” May gestured wildly. “You gave me a key! You invited me to use it!”

Buck was still shuffling toward the kitchen with his eyes closed, one hand held out like he was navigating through a minefield. “I feel so violated.”

“You’re feeling violated,” Bobby laughed. “ You’re the one who walked in on us .”

Buck just groaned in the kitchen, making an exaggerated gagging sound.

“I thought we had a rule about common areas!” May called over her shoulder as she started unloading the bag of ice. “No public displays after ten am!”

Athena stood with a raised brow and a smirk. “The rule was ‘no obvious displays.’ And besides, we didn’t hear you come in. You should send a text next time at least”

Bobby lifted Athena’s phone from the table and tilted it in his hand to face Athena so she could see her lock screen. “They did text, babe. We just didn’t see it.”

“Don’t worry,”  May said loudly from the kitchen as she slammed the freezer drawer shut,“From now on, I’ll text, call, ring the doorbell, knock, maybe fire off a flare…”

“And I’ll bring a megaphone next time,” Buck added loudly. “So you two can wrap up your, uh, extracurricular activities before we walk in.”

Athena and Bobby just laughed, rolling their eyes at the two of them.

***

The air smelled like charcoal and rosemary. Like lemony cleaning spray and watermelon rinds. Like the first scent of summer that makes you want to stay outside forever.

Inside, the house was alive with motion and sound. The newly expanded kitchen, full of white cabinets and sleek countertops, felt like the heart of the home—sun pouring in through the large windows, bouncing off copper pots and the brushed steel of the fridge. Someone had a playlist going on a small speaker—something jazzy and upbeat, low enough to talk over. 

Buck moved between the island and the counter, sleeves rolled up, hair a little messy from the day. His dish was safely tucked away in a lidded container on the counter, alongside his cornbread he had proudly unveiled and showed to Bobby earlier—but he was still helping with whatever needed doing: slicing fruit, refilling napkin holders, taste-testing everything like it was a sacred duty. When he wasn’t in the kitchen, he was bouncing between inside and out, checking with Bobby about the grill, checking with Athena about the drinks, checking with absolutely no one when he snuck a mini cupcake from the tray in the fridge.

The energy was warm. Familiar. Like the prelude to something good .

“Buck,” May announced when she saw him again, hands on her hips and an apron already tied around her waist. “Stop getting distracted in the backyard.”

“I was literally the first one here,” Buck replied, tugging at the straps of his own apron as he joined her at the island. “And I worked an eight-hour shift today so you have to be nice to me.”

She smirked and slid over a cutting board stacked with ripe tomatoes. “You get tomatoes. That way you can dice some up too on the side for your salad. I’m handling the onions because you’re a baby.”

“I am not a baby.” Buck took the knife and started slicing. “I’m an adult who’s emotionally in tune with his tear ducts.”

May cackled. “You’re crying already, aren't you?”

He pointed at her dramatically with the knife, a slice of tomato flopping off the blade. “Don’t you dare test me, May or else I will make you cry first.”

Bobby passed behind them with a mixing bowl and muttered without looking, “Remind me why I let you two near the food?”

“Because we’re charming,” Buck said.

“And helpful,” May added, throwing a handful of chopped onion into a bowl.

“And you love us,” they said in unison, grinning.

Bobby gave them the most resigned look in the world, but it was paired with a soft, fond smile as he headed for the fridge. “God help whoever marries into this mess.”

“Rude!” May called, tossing an onion peel in his direction.

“I’m just saying,” Bobby said, “between the sarcasm and the chaos, it’s a full-time job managing either of you.”

“I manage myself just fine,” Buck said, wiping tomato juice off his hands with a kitchen towel. “And also, I’m great in a crisis.”

“You are the crisis,” May replied, hip-checking him as she moved to rinse off her hands.

Buck bumped her right back, nearly knocking a pepper shaker off the counter. “Uncalled for!”

“Oh shut up, you love it.”

And he did. He really, really did.

They moved in a rhythm that spoke of years of dinners and Sunday brunches and helping each other through breakups and bad days. Buck passed May the herbs she asked for before she finished saying the word. She caught a runaway onion slice before it hit the floor and tossed it into the compost bin without missing a beat. 

It was easy . It was home . And it was something Buck had longed for for thirty years.

The kitchen smelled like garlic and roasting vegetables now, warm and a little sweet, and out in the yard, Bobby’s voice drifted through the open patio doors as he called out grill instructions to no one in particular.

Buck took another tomato, sliced it clean, and looked at May with a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“This is nice,” he said.

May glanced at him, her eyes softening. “Yeah. It really is.”

The backyard had filled with the scent of grilling meat, the soft twinkle of string lights overhead just beginning to shimmer as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Laughter floated through the air, light and bright and full of the easy joy that only came with people who loved each other deeply and knew how to show it.

Buck had just finished arranging the last platter of sliced tomatoes and cucumbers on the picnic table when he heard the front gate creak open and the unmistakable thud of sneakered feet on the path.

“I see groceries and Tupperware—must be the Diazes,” May announced, peeking out the window.

A second later, the sliding door opened and Eddie stepped through, arms laden with grocery bags and aluminum pans wrapped in foil. Behind him, Christopher carried a tray of lemonade bottles and paper fans, his curls bouncing with every careful step.

“We come bearing food!” Eddie called out, grinning.

“Food and gifts,” Buck replied, already moving to relieve Eddie of a few bags, though the stiffness in his gait gave him away. He bit back a wince as he adjusted his balance, favoring his left leg.

Eddie noticed, of course. He always did. His gaze dropped briefly to Buck’s knee, then flicked up to meet his eyes with a question he didn’t ask aloud.

Buck shrugged, casual. “Just tweaked it this morning. And then again a bit at work.”

Eddie gave him a subtle look that said we’re talking about that later, but said nothing else.

Eddie hugged Athena tightly when she came over to greet them, smiling as she placed a hand gently on his cheek before pulling him in for a kiss on the temple. “Glad you’re here,” she said.

Bobby gave Eddie a one-armed hug and took the foil-covered pan from him with a chef’s practiced care. “You didn’t have to bring so much.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “You say that every time. You know Buck made half of it anyway.”

“And you carried it all, like a good husband,” May teased, slipping past Eddie to take another bag from the counter.

Buck snorted but didn’t comment, instead tossing Eddie a bottle of water and leaning back against the counter as the doorbell rang again.

“More people incoming,” Athena called.

This time it was Maddie, Chimney, and Jee-Yun—Jee already halfway down the front path as Chim held open the door. She squealed with delight when she saw Chris and bolted toward the tree, pigtails bouncing behind her.

“Watch your—!” Chim started, but it was too late. Jee had already slipped on the grass, tumbled, rolled, and got right back up with a triumphant laugh. “She’s fine,” Maddie said, not even blinking. “She’s been like this all day.”

“Like a gremlin,” Chim added, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Maddie’s head as he helped her carry in a large, carefully decorated cake box, and a smaller plastic container with two layers of cupcakes in them.

“You made it?” Buck asked, lifting the lid for a peek.

“Three layers, lemon poppyseed with mascarpone,” Maddie said with a smug smile. “Do not drop it. Oh and here are the cupcakes Jee and I made too. We had to do something to keep her occupied before pre-school starts again.”

Hen, Karen, Denny, and Mara came next—Hen with sunglasses pushed up on her head, Karen already fielding questions from the kids about who brought what games. Denny and Mara carried a tote bag filled with water balloons and another with board games that clinked with every step.

“I don’t want to hear anyone crying when they lose at Uno tonight,” Karen warned, pointing a very specific look at her son.

Denny raised his hands. “I make no promises.”

Just as the backyard noise reached a new level of chaos, the side gate creaked again and Harry strolled in with a quick wave over his shoulder at the car pulling away. “Hello! Hello! Yes, I am here!”

He was immediately engulfed by the other kids, pulled into their fast-forming alliances and rivalries as though he’d been there the whole time.

And then, loud as ever, the screen door flung open with a bang and Ravi waltzed in.

“Okay, party people!” he called, holding up a six-pack and a container of mango rice pudding. “The vibe is now, officially , immaculate.”

“Ravi, how are you this loud already ?” Maddie groaned, though she was smiling.

“God made me this way,” Ravi said simply, kissing her on the cheek and spinning to high-five Chim.

A few other familiar faces from the 118 followed behind him—partners, plus-ones, new recruits who were already laughing and peeling off to mingle with those they knew. Everyone greeted each other like family. No one was left out.

It was an evening that truly came together like magic. A backyard full of noise and joy, folding chairs and mismatched bowls.  And as the sun finally dipped below the trees, casting golden light across everyone’s faces, it felt like summer had officially begun.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the warmth of the day had settled into a comfortable evening glow. The backyard, alive with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses, was a haven of joyful chaos.

Bobby and Chim were in charge of the grill, the flames crackling as they flipped burgers, sausages, and steaks with precision. The sizzling sound mixed with the scent of grilling meat, and Bobby, in his element, kept a steady eye on the cooking, though he was rarely without a sarcastic comment or a flick of his tongs toward Buck.

“Seriously, go sit down already,” Bobby said, nudging Buck away from the grill for the third time. “You’re not supposed to be cooking anymore. This is my domain.”

“ You asked me to help!” Buck protested, holding up a plate of raw chicken. “I was just trying to—”

“Nope, I’m good,” Bobby said, gently shoving him away again. “Take a break. You’re going to get distracted by the kids and burn something, and I’d rather not have to save the kitchen and my grill.”

Buck grinned, shaking his head but obediently stepping back as Bobby went back to work, flipping a burger with a flourish. Chimney leaned in, smirking, and whispered loudly enough for Bobby to hear, “Maybe he’s just trying to earn some credit for when it’s time to flip the party onto the dance floor.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. “Don’t tempt me,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, at one of the tables, the competition was already fierce. May, Hen, Harry, and Athena had gathered around a round table covered in cards and empty cans of soda. The air was thick with the tension of four people who were insanely too competitive for their own good.

“Not even a single queen in this hand,” Hen groaned, tapping the table in frustration.

“Relax,” Harry teased, eyes glinting with mischief. “Just wait for your next round. I can feel the fates of the deck shifting.”

May raised her hands dramatically. “Guys, can we all just agree that the only reason Mom is winning is because she has secret powers, and we’re all playing a rigged game?”

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Athena said, eyes narrowing playfully. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Buck paused by the table, watching with a grin. “How’s it going over here? Any blood being shed yet?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Harry said, holding up a fistful of cards. “I’m just getting started.”

Meanwhile, Maddie and Karen were busy assembling the final dishes on the food prep table. The kids had already come back for seconds, their plates piled high with grilled meat and sides. Maddie sliced a fresh loaf of bread, carefully layering it with a smear of butter, while Karen brought out the final batch of potato salad and Buck’s bean salad from the fridge.

“Are we good to go?” Maddie asked, glancing up at Karen.

“Almost,” Karen replied, pulling a tray of sliced fruit from the fridge. “Just need to plate the dessert, and we’re golden.”

The dessert station was stacked with all the desserts everyone had painstakingly made, a few of which were already being eagerly eyed by the kids as they made their way past.

And the kids… they were everywhere.

Denny and Chris had already taken over one corner of the lawn, proudly showing off the intricate LEGO creation they’d built together—some sort of high-tech spaceship that seemed entirely too advanced for their combined age and skill level. Ravi knelt beside them, his eyes wide in feigned awe.

“Is that a turbo booster in the back?” he asked, pointing at a small, flickering light on the LEGO model.

Denny nodded gravely. “Yep. Only the coolest designs have turbo boosters.”

Chris, ever the natural-born engineer, chimed in, “We built it with the secret plans that aren’t so much of a secret that came with the box.”

Ravi’s eyes twinkled. “I love a good mystery project. You’ve definitely got a future in engineering, both of you.”

Elsewhere, Jee and Mara had commandeered the sidewalk chalk, their brightly colored drawings quickly turning into a full-blown art gallery of stick figures, animals, and abstract designs. They giggled as they sketched a gigantic, rainbow-colored dragon across the driveway, occasionally squabbling over whether the dragon should have more wings or more fire.

And in between, the sounds of kids shrieking in laughter echoed across the yard as they played tag, dashing from one end of the lawn to the other, narrowly dodging the occasional water balloon attack. The air was thick with the sound of splashing water, lighthearted squabbles over who got to be it , and the joyful sounds of childhood freedom.

Through it all, Buck hung back for a moment, watching the scene unfold around him. The laughter of the kids, the gentle murmurs of conversation from the adults, the smell of food filling the air—this was what family looked like. This was what love looked like. It wasn’t always perfect, but it was real, and it was theirs.

And in that moment, as the evening stretched on and the twinkling lights began to reflect in the glasses of wine, Buck couldn’t help but smile. This was the best kind of chaos.

The evening was slowly turning golden, the sun’s warm glow casting a perfect haze over the backyard. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as the party continued to thrive. The mix of soft music and the occasional burst of conversation created a cozy atmosphere, one that Buck had come to cherish over the years.

As the sun dipped lower, a familiar car pulled into the driveway, and soon, Patricia, the ever-cheerful neighbor, appeared on the scene with a tray of empanadas. Her smile was as warm as ever, and Buck wasted no time, jogging over to her with a grin stretched across his face. Eddie was right behind him, and they both wrapped Patricia in a hug, her laughter ringing out as she greeted them.

“¡Mira, mis chicos!” Patricia teased as she pulled them into a tight hug. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one who knows how to cook around here!”

“Don’t tell me these are for everyone , or are they just for Eddie and me,” Buck joked, lifting an eyebrow at the impressive tray of empanadas. “You know you just made everyone else look bad, right?”

Patricia chuckled, swatting at his arm as she passed the tray into his hands. “You’re welcome. Eat up.” She pulled Eddie into another hug, squeezing him tightly as she kissed both his cheeks.

“Thanks, Patricia,” Eddie said softly, his smile genuine and warm. “You didn’t have to bring all this, but we’re glad you did.”

As the evening wore on and the food continued to disappear, it wasn’t long before Bobby raised a glass, a playful glint in his eyes as he motioned for attention. The chatter softened, and everyone turned to him, curious.

“Alright, alright,” Bobby said with a grin, looking around at the group. “Before we get too comfortable, I think it’s time for a toast.”

The crowd grew quiet as Bobby raised his glass, his voice taking on a deeper, heartfelt tone. “To family,” he said, glancing around at everyone gathered. “To summer. And to being together.”

The soft clinking of glasses followed, everyone chiming in with their own enthusiastic murmurs of agreement. But it was Chris who added his own touch, standing up a bit shakily on a chair, his little face serious as he raised his cup of juice up high.

“To family and the best barbecue ever!” he said, his words coming out with such earnestness that it pulled a wave of smiles from everyone.

Buck felt a lump rise in his throat. Chris was just getting older and older every single day . He quickly took a sip of his drink, trying to hide the moisture in his eyes, but Eddie saw it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie said quietly, sliding into the seat next to him with a soft chuckle. “You get used to it, I swear.”

Buck shook his head, wiping at his eyes before lifting his glass again. “Yeah, yeah, just... a little too much dust in here,” he said, trying to deflect the emotions swirling inside him.

The moment passed, but the warmth of it lingered as the group mingled again, the sound of kids running around and adults chatting filling the air. As the evening wore on, Athena, ever the organizer, clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, guys!” she called out, her voice cutting through the soft hum of conversation. “We need a group photo to commemorate the first backyard hangout post-reno!”

Everyone groaned playfully, but there was no resisting. Athena had the ability to get everyone in line, whether they liked it or not. With a few playful protests, the crowd began to gather near the patio, positioning themselves for the photo.

May, standing near the front, grinned and pulled her phone out, ready to snap the perfect shot. “Alright, get in closer! You guys are always standing too far apart.”

Hen rolled her eyes but smiled, shifting closer to Karen. “We’re not taking a family portrait, May, just a quick pic!”

“Same difference,” May teased, her grin wide as she steadied her phone to the makeshift tripod on the patio table and prepared for the shot.

Everyone squeezed in as May ran back to the group, counting down to five. Buck on the far end with Eddie, all the adults wrapped up in the back and the kids sprawled out and crouched in front of them. The golden sunset behind them, the laughter, the feeling of sheer happiness they were all basking in—it all came together in that one frame.

May reached the number one and yelled ‘smile’ , in the same tone Athena always gave orders in, and everyone posed. And then the crowd erupted into laughter as they began to break apart. The evening was still young, the air still warm, and the best part was that, for once, they could just be—together, no worries, no stress. Just family.

The night had fallen in a peaceful hush, the sky darkening to a deep indigo dotted with twinkling stars. The backyard was filled with the soft glow of string lights and the flickering warmth from the firepit, crackling merrily as the flames danced. The air was cool now, the heat of the day replaced with a gentle breeze that carried the sound of laughter and the occasional whoop of a kid catching a lightning bug.

The kids had claimed the lawn, their shrieks of excitement mixing with the soft hiss of marshmallows being roasted on sticks. Chris and Denny were huddled around the fire with Jee and Mara, their faces lit by the warm glow, eagerly tending to their marshmallows while the other kids chased each other in the dark, laughing at each twist and turn of the game.

Buck, leaning against one of the lounge chairs with a drink in hand, took it all in with a contented sigh. The chaos of the day had slowed to a manageable hum, the atmosphere now more about winding down than the frenzy of cooking and games. His gaze drifted over to Eddie, who was seated next to Athena by the fire, occasionally tossing a log onto the flames. There was something about the soft glow of the fire that made everything feel right—like this was the kind of peace they deserved.

At some point, though, May appeared beside him, her arms crossed as she took a long look around the yard. “Well, looks like they’re finally winding down.”

Buck chuckled. “Yep. I think we’ve successfully exhausted the kids for the night.”

May raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “You’re just lucky the food was that good.”

“Hey, don’t start with me,” Buck teased, nudging her with his elbow. “Chim and Bobby handled most of the grilling. The least I could do was help prep.”

May rolled her eyes but relented. “Fine, fine, you’re not completely useless. But someone has to deal with the dishes now.”

Buck groaned, looking at the pile of plates, cups, and utensils stacked high on the kitchen counter. “You seriously want me to do that now?”

“Yep,” she said, her tone all business. “You’re already slacking with your shoddy leg. Get to work.”

With that, she shot him a look and began heading inside, leaving him no room to protest. He followed her reluctantly, still trying to shake off the faint ache in his leg from earlier. The cool air from the house was a welcome change from the heat of the firepit, and they quickly fell into their rhythm—May rinsing and Buck drying, both of them teasing each other the entire time. And Buck kept his gaze outside to where Eddie was sitting near the fire pit, this time with Jees on his lap. She’s bouncing up and down on his knees, twisting the metal spire and the marshmallow in her hand fast, and Eddie’s got one arm around her whole figure, secure to make sure her movement doesn’t cause her to go falling over. And next to his chair is Mara, slightly slumped over with her head resting on Eddie’s shoulder, also poking her metal stick with the marshmallow at the end of it towards the fire in the middle.

“So, when are you two finally going to admit that you make a good team?” May asked, her voice laced with playful curiosity as she handed Buck another plate to dry. Buck didn’t even need to ask who or look at her face to know she was talking about Eddie. 

“We’ve always made a good team,” Buck replied, pretending to be insulted. “Just because you don’t see it all the time doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“Yeah, well,” May said, smirking as she loaded another dish into the dishwasher, “you’ve always been a little too stubborn to admit it.”

“Not stubborn,” Buck shot back, his voice taking on a teasing tone. “Just... strategically independent.”

“Oh, sure. Whatever you say.” She laughed and handed him a glass to dry. “You should learn to take a compliment when it’s offered, though.”

Buck snorted, shaking his head as he dried the glass. “Says the one who kept making fun of me all day.”

May shot him a look then grinned. “Well, somebody has to keep you in line.”

They continued on in companionable silence, the sound of water running and dishes clinking the only backdrop to their light-hearted banter. But soon, there was a presence in the doorway—the subtle shift of weight and the unmistakable sound of boots on the floor.

Eddie .

Buck turned his head, meeting Eddie’s gaze across the kitchen, and then quickly looked away. He’d known this moment was coming. He hadn’t been able to hide the limp for long, and Eddie wasn’t the type to let things slide.

May, noticing the shift in the air, gave a knowing smirk, and then left the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

“Buck,” Eddie said softly, his voice laced with concern, “you’ve been pushing too hard again.”

Buck stiffened, drying his hands quickly before leaning against the counter. “I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Eddie stepped closer, his tone gentle but firm. “Come on, man, you’ve been limping all day. You’re not fooling anyone.”

Buck sighed, looking down at the countertop, avoiding Eddie’s steady gaze. “It’s nothing. Just my bad leg. It’s been aching more lately.”

Eddie’s expression softened, his arms crossing as he leaned against the doorframe. “You know you don’t have to do it all on your own, right? And you don’t have anything to prove”

Buck let the silence settle between them, the weight of Eddie’s words sinking in. He couldn’t quite meet Eddie’s eyes, his heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. He didn’t want to be a burden—didn’t want to admit that maybe he wasn’t as invincible as he always tried to be.

“I know,” Buck said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s... easier this way, you know?”

Eddie stepped forward, his hand resting gently on Buck’s shoulder, the touch grounding. “Buck,” he said softly, “I’ve got your back. You don’t have to carry everything alone.”

Buck looked up then, his eyes meeting Eddie’s for the first time in what felt like forever. The warmth in Eddie’s eyes was undeniable, like a steady anchor in the chaos of their lives. He leaned into the touch.

“Thanks,” Buck said, his voice low but full of gratitude. “I’ll be alright. Just... not used to doing anything less than a lot.”

Eddie gave him a small smile, his hand giving Buck’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to do as much. We’ve got you, okay?”

Buck nodded, the knot in his chest loosening just a little. For once, he let himself believe it. That maybe he didn’t have to do everything his mind was yelling at him to do to be enough for his family and friends.

The moment lingered, quiet but full of understanding. And for the first time all evening, Buck felt something shift inside him, something that felt a bit like a sense of belonging.

***

The night had wound down, the energy of the barbecue slowly fading into the quiet hum of departing guests. The soft clink of leftover plates being stacked, the shuffle of feet on the patio, and the low murmurs of tired but happy children made the air feel full of contentment.

Bobby and Athena were already ushering some of the last few stragglers out the front door, with a few bags of leftovers in hand and some of the kids’ shoes in other hands. The night was still warm, the lingering scent of grilled meat and smoky embers drifting on the breeze. One by one, the families said their goodbyes, hugs exchanged like the day had been a reminder of how much they meant to each other.

May, with her shoulder’s drooping from the day’s fun, gave Buck and Eddie a quick wave and hugged both Athena and Bobby before she and Harry piled into their car. Ravi and Chim were still at the gate, joking with Karen about taking the leftover snacks, and Hen was giving Denny a final reminder to not forget his game cards.

As the last few left, Buck lingered, moving methodically between the tables and chairs, helping Bobby clear away the used plates and folding up chairs. Eddie stayed nearby, shifting bags and cleanup with Buck, their movements synced like they’d done this a hundred times before. The moonlight cast a gentle glow on the patio, and for a moment, everything felt just... right. There were no words between them—just the quiet comfort of their shared tasks, the peaceful rhythm of it all.

Chris, worn out from all the excitement, had fallen asleep on Eddie’s back. Slumped against Eddie’s shoulders, the steady rise and fall of his chest marking a soft cadence. Eddie’s arm was wrapped loosely around his knees, holding him steady, but there was an exhaustion in his posture too.

Buck stepped closer, adjusting a bag in his hand, then giving Eddie a small, knowing look. "Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying just enough for Eddie to hear. "Want me to carry something? The bag? The kid?"

Eddie half-smiled, shaking his head, his voice gentle but amused. "No, I’ve got it. He’s heavy, but he’s also kind of cozy when he falls asleep like this and god knows when he’s going to want a piggyback ride ever again."

Buck chuckled, glancing at the little one, his heart swelling with affection. “Yeah, well, I know how that goes.” He paused, his gaze shifting to Eddie for a moment, a warmth between them that neither of them tried to hide. "You okay?"

Eddie’s eyes softened as he looked at Buck, the corners of his mouth curving into something more sincere than the playful smile from earlier. "I’m good," he said, his tone quieter now. "Just... thankful. For today."

Buck nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, and he didn’t have to ask what Eddie meant. They both understood. It had been a good day. A rare, calm day where everyone was together, enjoying the simplicity of family and food and laughter. There was something deeply fulfilling in that, something that made the weight of everything else feel lighter, just for a little while.

"I’ll always be here," Buck said, his voice low, almost like a promise. "You know that."

They walked side by side toward the car, the soft light from the patio casting their long shadows on the ground. Chris shifted slightly on Eddie’s back, but stayed nestled there, a peaceful bundle of exhaustion. The night was winding down, the last of the goodbyes whispered under the stars, but there was something about this moment—about the way Eddie walked next to him, how their connection felt so effortlessly strong—that made Buck realize how much more this meant to him.

As they reached the car, Eddie paused, setting Chris down so he could get in the car.

Eddie looked over at Buck, his expression soft but sincere. "Thanks," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really."

Buck met his gaze, his eyes full of understanding, full of all the things he couldn’t quite say but felt deeply nonetheless. "Anytime," Buck replied, his smile small but warm. "You know I’ve got you."

And with that, the night settled into its final quiet moments, the soft hum of the world around them as the three of them climbed into the car, ready to drive off into the cool, peaceful night.

***

The house was still humming with the residual glow of a good day as Eddie unlocked the front door and quietly stepped inside, Chris still half-asleep behind them, walking with his eyes half closed. The living room lights were dim, casting soft shadows across the couch and coffee table where earlier that morning, Eddie had folded a pile of laundry that never made it to the drawers.

Buck followed close behind, carrying their bags from the car, shutting the door with a soft click behind him.

Chris groaned slightly as Eddie shuffled him down the hall, murmuring something about marshmallows and water balloons. Eddie smiled gently and led him into the bathroom so that Chris didn’t just go to sleep immediately before getting ready for bed. It didn’t take long — Chris was out the moment his head hit the pillow.

“Out like a light,” Eddie said softly when he came back into the living room, raking a hand through his hair. “Didn’t even wanna get up to brush his teeth until I resorted to nagging.”

Buck was already stacking up a couple throw blankets, adjusting the cushions on the couch. “Kid earned it. He ran around like a little maniac all afternoon. Took Ravi hostage during that water balloon ambush.”

Eddie let out a low laugh, eyes flicking toward the kitchen. “I still can’t believe he tricked Ravi into crawling behind the grill for ‘safety.’”

Buck grinned as they both moved around the house with easy familiarity, tidying up in tandem. Eddie grabbed the cleaning spray and disappeared into the bathroom while Buck swept the living room floor.

They didn’t talk much, but the silence was just so damn comfortable. Like they knew what the other needed without saying it out loud.

By the time Eddie re-emerged, rolling up the sleeves of his henley, Buck had moved into the kitchen. They wordlessly passed each other cloths and dishes, taking turns washing and drying. Music played faintly from Buck’s phone, something mellow and familiar, and it filled the quiet like a heartbeat.

Once the last dish was placed on the rack, Buck wiped his hands on a towel and disappeared briefly down the hall, returning with two overflowing baskets of laundry balanced on his hip, one on top of the other. He dropped them with a soft thud near the coffee table.

Eddie raised a brow. “You sure you wanna do this tonight?”

Buck just plopped down onto the couch, cross-legged, and started pulling apart socks. “We’re already up. Might as well.”

Eddie joined him a beat later, settling onto the stop next to him. The pile of clothes between them was substantial — a mix of Chris’ school shirts, Eddie’s work jeans, Buck’s T-shirts with stupid sayings, and enough socks to lose half and still be fine.

They worked quietly at first, the rhythm of folding shirts and matching socks filling the silence. A few minutes passed before Buck spoke, his voice soft, like he didn’t want to wake the peacefulness around them.

“Chris mentioned that science camp again this morning when we were driving,” he said, folding a hoodie and smoothing it before passing it over.

Eddie looked up. “The one from Texas? That program he liked the sound of?”

“Yeah. They’ve got a branch in Pasadena in July. Same curriculum, hands-on stuff, group projects, robotics... all of it.”

Eddie nodded, considering. “He really was into that. You think he’s ready to do something like that for two weeks? Two full weeks without either of us. We’d only get to see him on the weekends for like the designated two hours they let parents come visit Saturday mornings.”

Parents, Eddie had said. Lumping Buck into the category and nothing has ever made Buck feel more wonderstruck.

Buck hesitated, glancing toward the hallway, as if he could see into Chris’ room. “He’s growing up fast, Eds. I think he’d love it. I think… he’d thrive.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, and he let out a long breath. “I keep forgetting he’s not a little kid anymore.”

“You’ll remember when he starts talking to you about planetary core formations at breakfast,” Buck said with a fond grin.

They both laughed, quiet but genuine, and returned to the laundry pile. Shirts folded. Socks bundled. 

And between them — in the spaces filled by shared tasks and soft conversation — there was a sense of something deeper. Not flashy. Not loud. Just– steady and different, and that stretched deep into vast parts of them both that they didn’t dare to touch or question. But they wouldn’t have changed it for anything.

They were knee-deep in laundry when Eddie’s voice broke the comfortable hum of their work.

“So,” he said, a little too casually, not looking up from the towel he was folding. “You’re taking the bed tonight.”

Buck glanced up, caught mid-fold with one of Eddie’s Henley shirts in his lap. He blinked like he hadn’t quite heard right. “What? No, no — it’s your week in the bed. I’m good on the couch.”

Eddie shot him a flat look. “Buck, your leg’s acting up.”

Buck waved a dismissive hand, trying for breezy and missing by an inch. “I’m fine. Couch is totally fine. You hurt your back this morning — remember? You’re the one who needs a decent mattress.”

Eddie frowned slightly, the crease between his brows deepening. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you should stretch that leg out. You’re not gonna do that curled up like a pretzel on the couch.”

Buck didn’t answer right away, focusing instead on folding the shirt in his lap like it was suddenly the most complex task in the world. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “you tweaked your back and acted like it was no big deal the whole night.”

That made Eddie pause. He didn’t expect Buck to notice.

Before he could brush it off, Buck set the shirt aside and scooted closer, posture shifting from casual to concerned. “Speaking of,” he said softly, “come on. Let me take a look. Make sure it didn’t bruise or get worse.”

Eddie immediately stiffened, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s fine. You don’t have to—”

“Eds,” Buck cut in, giving him a pointed look — the kind that was all worry disguised as stubbornness. “Just let me check. Please?”

Eddie hesitated, the faintest blush coloring his cheeks, suddenly shy under Buck’s steady gaze. He looked like he might argue for a second longer but the words never came.

Instead, he gave a quiet nod.

Eddie shifted on the couch and Buck got up and reached for the small first aid kit they kept tucked in the cabinet by the TV. He popped it open with practiced fingers and pulled out the tube of Neosporin.

“Alright,” he said gently, sitting back down and scooting a little closer. “Lean forward for me a bit — hold a pillow to your stomach. It'll help take some pressure off.”

Eddie gave him a look but didn’t argue. He grabbed the nearest pillow, hugged it to his front, and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Buck lifted the back of Eddie’s T-shirt slowly, revealing the faint bruise blooming low on the right side of his back, just above the hip.

“Damn,” Buck murmured. “You really did a number on it, huh?”

He dabbed a bit of the ointment on his fingers and started applying it gently, his touch slow and careful, circling over the sore spot in small motions. The muscles beneath his hand twitched.

Eddie inhaled sharply through his nose, a small, involuntary sound rumbling in his throat — part groan, part protest — and immediately bit it back. His grip on the pillow tightened when he heard Buck’s breath catch just slightly, unspoken tension slipping into the quiet like steam rising off hot pavement.

But Buck didn’t say anything. He just kept going, more delicate now, fingers barely pressing.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. “Alright,” he said, voice soft and a little hoarse, “all done.”

Eddie sat back slowly, tugging his shirt down with one hand. “Thanks,” he said, voice raspier than he meant it to be.

He didn’t meet Buck’s eyes. Just looked off to the side as he settled back into the couch. Buck stayed still for a second longer, then blinked and reached for the next towel in the pile, cheeks pink.

And just like that, they were folding laundry again.

Eddie glanced sideways at Buck, the corner of his mouth twitching with something close to a smirk. “Alright,” he said, voice low and easy, “your turn now.”

Buck blinked up at him from where he was folding one of Chris’s T-shirts. “Huh?”

But Eddie was already standing, moving carefully, one hand pressed lightly to his lower back. “Don’t move,” he said over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall.

Buck tilted his head. “What are you doing?” he called, frowning just a little.

From the bathroom came the sound of a cabinet opening, bottles clinking faintly as Eddie rummaged around. He muttered something under his breath about Buck’s chaotic organizing habits, and then there was a quiet, triumphant “Aha!”

He emerged a moment later, holding up a brand-new bottle with a little golden ribbon still tied around the neck, golden thick liquid inside it. “You remember this?” he asked, padding barefoot across the hardwood. “It’s a massage oil one of the neighbor ladies gave to you after that wine night you had two weeks ago. Came with a basket of bath salts and that weird candle you said smelled like cookies and cream.”

Buck stared at the bottle, then at Eddie. His expression softened — that open, fond, melty look that turned Eddie to goo inside every single time. His hands stilled on a pair of socks he hadn’t even matched yet, and he looked up at Eddie like the whole room had gone still.

Eddie cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow. “Lay down. Put your leg up.”

Buck opened his mouth to protest, but Eddie was already sitting on the coffee table, placing the bottle beside him. He uncapped it with one hand, the faint scent of lavender and eucalyptus drifting into the room.

Buck stared at him for a beat longer. Then, slowly, he leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s face.

Buck lay back, one leg propped up along the couch cushions, the hem of his sweats tugged up just enough to expose his calf. Eddie poured a small amount of oil into his hands and rubbed them together, warming it before he touched Buck’s skin.

The moment his thumbs pressed into the tight muscles, Buck flinched — not away, but into it, like it hurt and helped all at once. His head dropped back against the armrest, breath catching in his throat.

“Jesus,” Buck muttered, voice low and strangled.

Eddie glanced up, smirking. “It’s fine if you make noise, just don’t be too loud or you’ll wake up Chris.”

Buck let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Please, that kid sleeps like a rock. A marching band could come through here and he’d still be out.”

Eddie huffed a quiet chuckle too, focusing on Buck’s leg again. He worked his thumbs along the muscle, slow and firm, until he hit a spot near the back of Buck’s calf that made him hiss and jolt.

“Shit, sorry,” Eddie said quickly, already easing up.

“No, no,” Buck said, his voice tight, eyes shut. “It’s fine — it’s good. Keep going, it helps. Shit . Thank you, seriously.”

Eddie gave a small, quiet smile, his hand slowing just slightly as he said, “Of course.”

He kept going, working the oil into the tight, aching muscles with careful pressure. Buck’s breathing deepened, every now and then letting out a small groan or sharp inhale as the tension melted from his leg. After a while, as the relief started to settle in more than the pain, Buck reached forward blindly, grabbed a soft T-shirt off the coffee table, and pulled it over his face.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asked with a laugh.

Buck’s voice came muffled through the shirt. “Muting myself. It’s embarrassing.”

Eddie grinned, still rubbing gently up and down. “It’s not.”

Buck didn’t answer — just let his head fall back again, letting Eddie take care of him.

Eddie let out a low laugh, shaking his head as he finished massaging the last of the oil into Buck’s calf. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Buck smiled through a quiet groan, stretching his leg out, finally feeling the relief sink in. He sat up slowly, adjusting himself to sit closer to Eddie, his knee brushing against Eddie’s in the process. The proximity was comforting, too much of an unspoken connection between them, and Buck didn’t mind it at all. Eddie didn’t seem to mind either, though they both stayed silent for a second longer than necessary.

Eddie leaned back slightly, glancing at the laundry that was now folded and neatly stacked in the baskets and on the coffee table. “Well, okay,” he said with a small sigh. “We finished the clothes, and it’s getting pretty late now. We should go to bed.” He hesitated for a second before adding, “And by bed, I mean you should go to bed, and I’ll take the couch.”

Buck looked at him, his brow furrowing. “No, it’s alright, seriously. It’s your week with the bed. Don’t be stubborn, it’s okay.” He stood up slowly, flexing his leg, stretching it out before turning to Eddie. He gave him a little look, then nudged his knee against Eddie’s again, almost to reassure him. “See? All good.”

Eddie didn’t respond right away, just watching Buck with a quiet intensity, clearly still unconvinced.

Eddie pushed himself up from the coffee table, too quickly for his own good, and immediately winced, his back protesting the movement. The sudden shift in the air between them felt heavier, and Buck’s gaze lingered just a moment longer than normal. Their faces were barely inches apart, close enough that Buck could feel Eddie’s breath. His voice came out low and warm, the words almost a whisper: “See, you need the bed. Your back isn’t okay.”

Eddie stiffened slightly, fighting the urge to argue, but there was no denying the truth in Buck’s words. He knew it, even if he didn’t want to admit it. After a beat of silence, Eddie sighed, giving in. “Okay, fine. You win.”

Buck’s eyes lit up, and a victorious smile tugged at his lips, a soft gleam of triumph in his eyes. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Eddie shot him a look as they began gathering the folded laundry to put away. “Wipe that smirk off your face, Buckley.”

Buck barely held back a grin, making a show of innocently lifting his hands in mock surrender. “No idea what you’re talking about, Eds.”

Eddie just rolled his eyes, unable to stop a small smile from tugging at the corner of his lips. “Yeah, sure you don’t,” he muttered as they both finished putting the clothes away.

Eddie walked down the hallway, the soft sound of Buck’s footsteps echoing lightly in the quiet house. He paused in front of Chris’s room, his hand hovering over the doorknob before gently turning it. The dim light from the hallway spilled into the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Chris was lying on his stomach, his face half-smushed into the pillow, and his headphones had slipped off, dangling loosely from his head.

Eddie’s heart softened at the sight. He knew how much change Chris had been through the last couple of weeks, and there was something so peaceful about seeing him finally asleep. Eddie quietly tiptoed into the room, careful not to disturb him, and began putting away the clothes in Chris’s dresser and closet. His movements were slow, tender, almost reverent.

After finishing with the clothes, Eddie stood still for a moment, watching Chris breathe in the calm rhythm of sleep. His heart ached in a good way—there was so much love in his chest, it sometimes felt like it might overflow. Gently, he leaned over and brushed the hair from Chris’s forehead. With a quiet sigh, he carefully lifted the headphones off his son’s head, setting them gently on the nightstand beside the bed.

Eddie stood there for a second, unsure of how long this moment would last. His son was growing up too fast, and the weight of that truth settled heavily on him. Without thinking too much about it, Eddie bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Chris’s temple. “Goodnight, mijo,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

He lingered for a moment longer, just watching his son’s peaceful face, before he slowly stood up and took one last look at the room. Then, with a soft exhale, Eddie turned and walked back toward the hallway, quietly closing the door behind him.

Eddie entered the bedroom quietly. When he stepped into the room, he found Buck at the dresser, finishing up putting away the last of the clothes. There was something effortlessly comforting about how Buck moved around Eddie’s things—knowing exactly where everything went, how Eddie liked his shirts organized by color, the way his pants were separated into sweats, jeans, and darker clothes in the middle, then how he like to sort his t shirts by how old they were to the newest, and how he liked to order his sweatshirts by thickness of them.

Eddie paused in the doorway, leaning against the frame for a moment. He could have stood there, watching Buck, for much longer—just taking in the way Buck folded the clothes with precision, how the simple act of tidying up seemed to come so naturally to him. There was something deeply calming to Eddie about the way Buck moved.

Something he couldn’t quite place his finger on.

Without saying anything, Buck looked up, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He silently held out a pair of Eddie’s favorite pajamas—a ratty pair of basketball shorts and an old, threadbare LAFD shirt from his academy days that Eddie had a habit of ripping it off in the middle of the night whenever he got too hot.

Eddie’s lips twitched into a smile. He didn’t have to ask how Buck knew to pull those out. Buck always paid attention to the little things, and somehow, that always meant more than anything else. Eddie took the clothes from Buck’s hands, their fingers brushing for a moment, and nodded toward the closet.

Eddie changed into his pajamas in the bathroom, the familiar fabric of the old LAFD shirt and basketball shorts bringing a sense of comfort that only those well-worn clothes could provide. When he stepped out, he saw Buck still standing by the couch, waiting. There was a quiet stillness between them, like both of them were savoring the simplicity of the moment.

“Thanks,” Eddie said, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Buck didn’t reply immediately, just gave a small hum of acknowledgement, his eyes warm as they met Eddie’s.

Eddie grabbed the sheets and a pillow from the closet, then walked toward the living room, Buck following. They worked together in comfortable silence, setting up the couch, the ritual of it all feeling familiar and cozy. It was a quiet moment, but it held so much meaning for Eddie. The way Buck moved around him, the way they shared this little domestic space—it was all so simple, yet so full of warmth.

As Eddie handed Buck the pillow, their hands lingered, the sides of them grazing the others. The touch was light, but it sent a jolt of electricity through Eddie. He couldn’t help but lose his breath for a second, caught off guard by the way the contact made his heart flutter. It was just a brief moment, but it felt like something more, like the air between them was charged with something unspoken.

They stood there for a second, smiling at each other like two goofy teenagers, unsure of what to do with the unexpected feelings bubbling up inside them. The silence stretched on, but neither of them seemed to want to break it. Finally, Eddie ducked his head, a little shy, and cleared his throat.

“Alright,” he said, his voice softer now, “Goodnight, Buck.”

Buck’s smile grew a little wider, and when he responded, his voice was slightly higher than usual, almost like he couldn’t quite hide the happiness bubbling up inside him.

“Goodnight, Eds,” Buck said, stretching the words into a little sing-song melody, a gleam of joy in his eyes.

Eddie’s heart did a little flip at the sound of Buck’s voice—flustered, but undeniably happy. He returned the smile, and for a moment, they just stood there, feeling like the world had shrunk to this quiet, shared space between them. 

Then, without another word, Eddie moved toward the bedroom. 

And Buck settled onto the couch, both of them taking a moment to let the evening’s warmth settle around them.