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“So, uh. Buck. I wanted to — I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Eddie’s words make Buck freeze, his eyes going wide, his heart startling from its previously very warm and content place within his chest.
He glances up from where he’d only just finished getting the last of the food onto the dining table, over to Eddie, sitting opposite him. And the kicker is that Eddie looks nervous. There’s a slight pink to his cheeks, and his hands are wringing together over his plate. He can barely even look at Buck — his eyes flitting all over the place, landing on Buck for barely a second before going to the lasagne between them, to the beer on his right, up to the light fixture above them.
It almost reminds Buck of that day he caught Eddie looking up houses in El Paso, when Eddie confessed that he was thinking about moving.
And, oh god, is this the reason for Christopher’s last minute movie night with friends? Because Eddie wants to break some bad news to Buck, and hoped to spare Chris the ensuing fallout?
Buck swallows. “You’re not kicking me out, are you?” He tries to joke when he finally unfreezes, hoping the words don’t come out as weak as they feel.
That, at least, seems to snap Eddie from his own nerves, because he blanches, finally meeting Buck’s gaze properly. “What? No! No, ‘course not. This is your home, too, Buck.”
Buck releases a breath, nodding. His heart thankfully relaxes as he takes his seat. “Okay, so, um. What is it then?”
And now it’s Eddie’s turn to take a breath, releasing it slowly. Then, “So, you know that since I got back to LA, I’ve been trying to — to take stock of my life, and, and think about what I want, what makes me happy.”
Buck nods again. He does know this. He and Eddie have spoken about it a few times, Eddie nervous and Buck encouraging, hiding his quiet heartbreak at the thought of Eddie previously denying himself joy.
“Well,” Eddie continues, “one of the things I’ve kind of realised is that I’m not… I’m not exactly what I always thought I was.”
Buck blinks, suddenly not quite sure where this is going. “Okay,” he prompts when Eddie doesn’t continue.
Eddie takes another breath. “So, it’s like — it’s like the zoo, right? I always loved going to the zoo; with you, with Christopher. And remember how we’d always choose two animals we’d get to see? Chris always wanted to go to the meerkats, and I’d pick the cheetahs, and you’d pick —”
“The penguins,” Buck finishes with a smile, mind already casting back to those trips to Griffith Park, of his animal facts, of Chris’s toothy grin, of Eddie’s adoring smile as he watched his son’s excitement.
“The penguins, yeah,” Eddie says, nodding now. “And so maybe you’re — you’re kind of like a penguin, you know? And I always liked penguins — they’re great, right? Who doesn’t like penguins? — but that was never me. I was something else. Like a cheetah, maybe. Do you — do you get what I’m saying?”
And Buck…
Buck absolutely does not get when Eddie’s saying.
But now Eddie’s looking at him with these imploring eyes — golden brown and gleaming — and Buck doesn’t want to do anything to disrupt this groove he’s in, not when he’s talking about what he wants, about things that make him happy.
So, “Yeah,” he says, and when Eddie smiles again, all relief, he knows it’s the right call.
“Okay, so. That’s what I always thought,” Eddie continues, and he’s sort of buzzing now, his voice filled with this energy that has Buck’s chest warming in response. “But recently, I’ve realised that maybe I am more like a penguin than I thought. Maybe not the exact penguin you always liked, but another type of penguin. And that’s what I wanted to tell you. That I want to… to be at the zoo. If you get me.”
Buck blinks.
Oh.
Oh, so Eddie wants to… go to the zoo?
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Eddie says, soft, “So that’s okay?”
And Buck is just… truly, insanely, unbelievably lost right now, because he can’t quite understand why Eddie would be so worried about Buck not wanting to go to the zoo with him. They’ve gone to the zoo together plenty of times over the years. Famously, Buck loves the zoo! But Eddie, he looks so hopeful right now, and Buck would quite literally rather chew off his own arm than do anything to tarnish that.
So he smiles, reaching over the table to take Eddie’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Yeah, Eddie. ‘Course it is.”
Eddie looks down at their hands for a long moment, his smile something tender, almost shy, when he returns it Buck’s way. “And — and with you? I mean, you’ll, um — you’ll go to the zoo. With me?”
“Of course, Eddie. I’d love that.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, all happy relief again, then, a little carefully, “I think it might not be — straight away, you know? I might need to go… slow. But, this is — it’s good to know, Buck.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Eds,” Buck assures earnestly, because he might not get it, not exactly, but he’s here to support Eddie in his endeavours to choose joy.
Of course he is.
After another squeeze, Buck takes his hand back, and they’re both quiet as Buck returns his focus to dinner. He serves up some lasagne and salad and garlic bread, smiling at Eddie in thanks when he holds up his plate to help, chest fluttering when their hands brush just briefly.
And then, out of nowhere, one of those old animal facts pops back into his head.
“You know that certain species of penguins mate for life?”
Eddie makes a noise, something sweet and surprised, and for some reason his cheeks flush pink, his gaze going all soft again.
“Yeah, Buck,” he says, his voice so achingly warm. “You’ve told me that one before.”
+
Later that night, after he and Eddie have cleaned up from dinner — Buck washing, Eddie drying — after Chris has returned from his movie and retreated to his bedroom, probably to game with the same people he only just saw, after Buck’s stood right beside Eddie in the bathroom, brushing their teeth together, Eddie slides into bed next to him, as has been their routine ever since Eddie returned to LA.
And then, decidedly not like always, Eddie turns in bed, facing the middle — facing Buck — his hand shifting to settle at Buck’s arm.
“This okay?” Eddie asks, voice low in the dark, thumb running over Buck’s skin, touch warm and gentle, and Buck swallows, mouth suddenly dry.
It’s nothing scandalous, of course.
It’s just something they’ve never really done before.
And Buck’s not sure why such a small touch has his heart suddenly tripping over, but there’s just something so quietly intimate about this — touching, in the bed they share, shrouded in darkness.
He lets himself shift closer, just because he wants to.
“Yeah, Eddie,” he says, voice just as quiet as Eddie’s was, and he can barely see without the lights on, but he swears he catches the curve of Eddie’s responding smile.
+
Eddie doesn’t mention the zoo the following day, and so neither does Buck.
He figures that Eddie will tell him when he’s ready to go, and all Buck knows is that he’ll clear his day — clear his entire 96-off — the moment Eddie says the word. He’ll plan everything out, one itinerary if Chris wants to join them, another if he decides he’s too cool (the far more likely outcome); find somewhere nice to eat beforehand, or maybe pack a picnic lunch, get those good peaches that Eddie loves so much from the market. Make a whole day of it.
And of course, see so many penguins that Eddie won’t know what to do with himself.
And Buck’s excited, too.
He’s still sort of… reeling, from those months without Eddie and Chris. There are some mornings he wakes up to find Eddie no longer in bed with him, and there’s a momentary panic that he’s dreamt up their return, some bittersweet fantasy his mind has conjured while he was asleep. He only manages to relax again when he shifts in bed, the smell of Eddie on the pillow beside his confirming that it’s real — that Eddie’s actually home.
So he’ll take any sort of outing he can get to soak up time with him, make up for those months where he only saw Eddie through a screen.
And he wonders whether Eddie’s feeling the same — whether he missed Buck just as much as Buck missed him — because he begins acting sort of… differently around Buck.
Strangely, it starts after that zoo conversation.
First, with that touch in bed, which kept Buck awake far longer than it had any reason to.
Then, during their next shift, at dinner — the 118 gathered around the table, everyone speaking over each other, laughing, heckling, cheering when Bobby brings over a huge dish of his best curry — when Eddie’s foot finds Buck’s beneath the dining table, gentle but purposeful. And when Buck glances over, Eddie’s already looking at him, a secretive sort of smile on his face. Instinctively, Buck presses his own foot right back, and Eddie ducks his head with a quiet laugh before Hen pulls his attention with a question, but there they remain until the alarm goes off halfway through their meal — playing footsies.
After that, it’s while watching a movie together at home, sharing some beers and a bowl of popcorn, when Eddie shifts closer on the couch, tucking his legs beneath him, leaning his head against Buck’s shoulder, settling in with a soft and content sigh.
A couple of days after that, it’s on the same couch, after a tough shift that had Buck’s leg fatiguing, when he insists on massaging Buck. Grabs some body oil from the bedroom — making Buck’s entire brain blue-screen for a good few seconds — then works through the stiffness of Buck’s calf muscles, which is sort of mesmerising to watch. Eddie’s got very large and very pretty hands — completely different from Buck’s own — and seeing them move so deftly over Buck’s flesh, well… it’s certainly something.
It’s on laundry day when Eddie appears in the kitchen after his morning shower, hair damp and cheeks pink and wearing Buck’s LAFD hoodie, which is at least one size too big for him.
At work when they’re restocking the bus, that he reaches out to brush an eyelash from Buck’s cheek, a smile that could make your heart melt stretching across his face when he tells Buck to close his eyes and make a wish.
On a walk to grab a morning coffee and some pastries that’ll hopefully lure Chris from his teenage sleep-in, that Eddie just… reaches out to take Buck’s hand. Slots their fingers together while Buck’s telling him about the Amelia Earhart documentary he just finished, like that’s something they just do.
And of course, each night they’re at home, it’s Eddie turning to face Buck in bed, and Buck turning right back, just because he wants to.
Because that’s the thing.
It’s all new, but it’s in no way unwelcome. He and Eddie have always been pretty tactile with each other, and this is just — an extra layer to it all. Probably part of Eddie choosing what makes him happy, because it feels like far too much of a coincidence for it to be anything else.
It’s two weeks of this.
Two weeks of warm laughter and dopey smiles and lingering touches and big, soft doe eyes, that finds them together in the kitchen. Buck’s getting dinner ready and Eddie’s inevitably keeping him company, and they’re laughing about the time they got drugged at work, tripping their asses off at a kid’s beauty pageant, Eddie ending up in handcuffs — heads tipped back, tears in their eyes, full belly laughing — and when they finally quieten down, they’re just grinning at each other, and Eddie — he tilts his head, looks at Buck in this way he’s been doing more and more often, golden brown eyes just fucking shining.
And, “Hey, Buck?” He says, something so sweet and hopeful in the way he says Buck’s name.
Buck’s still giggling a little. “Yeah?”
“I’m — I’m ready. If you are.”
And Buck’s confused for about half a second before that conversation comes back to mind — Eddie’s desire to go to the zoo — and so then he nods, hoping Eddie can see how much Buck supports this plan.
“Oh, yeah — yeah, Eddie. Of course.”
Eddie nods, too, and he’s still smiling, bright and uninhibitedly happy, still smiling as he walks over to Buck, still smiling when he places his hands on Buck’s chest, on his apron, and still smiling when he presses forward and —
Kisses Buck.
Buck’s mind catches with confusion for about another half-second.
And then everything very quickly just… melts away.
All there is left is the feel of Eddie’s mouth, sliding soft over Buck’s. Is the sound of Eddie’s sigh, when Buck opens for him eagerly. Is the taste of Eddie’s tongue, beer, and something sweet beneath it cutting through. Buck’s entire body hums with warmth as Eddie kisses him, and then he’s pulling Eddie in closer without thought, hands going to his back while Eddie’s climb up to Buck’s neck, thumb brushing over the underside of Buck’s jaw.
They kiss, and kiss, and kiss some more, until finally Eddie sways back, his eyes blinking open slowly, and he’s still fucking smiling, the most beautiful smile Buck’s ever seen in his life and —
Oh.
Oh, so Tommy was right all along. Maddie was right all along.
Buck’s pining for his straight best friend.
Probably has been for the past, oh, what is it now? Seven damn years.
But his mind catches with confusion again, because that can’t be right. Buck may have only just mastered the art of realising you’re in love with your best friend, but even he can’t see a reason that Eddie would kiss him if he’s straight.
So, “Eddie,” Buck murmurs, and it’s a confession and a plea rolled into one wrecked, reverent name.
Eddie, as though trying to torture Buck, licks his lips. He’s still so close. “Yeah?”
Buck swallows. “That was — wow.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. But, I’m just…”
“You’re just…?”
“Confused.”
Eddie’s brows knit together, and Buck so desperately wants to lean up and kiss the crease; manages to exercise mammoth restraint by resisting the urge. “What’re you confused about?” Eddie asks, so soft and earnest that Buck’s sort of wondering whether he’s hit his head and woken up in some alternate universe.
“Um,” Buck says, rather ineloquently. “Last I knew, you were straight.”
At that, Eddie rears back, though only so far as Buck’s hold lets him. His eyes are wide and baffled. “Buck, are you kidding? I told you I was gay.”
There’s a record scratch.
Buck’s brain takes a moment to process.
“You’re gay?” He finally croaks out.
Eddie lets out a strangled sort of laugh. “Buck, I told you this.”
Buck just blinks.
Yeah, he’s definitely hit his head and woken up in some alternate universe, because he’s fairly certain — in fact, one hundred percent certain — that he would remember his best friend Eddie Diaz telling him that he was gay.
“When?” Buck splutters, and it’s almost funny, the expression Eddie gives him in response. They’re equally bewildered, neither of them quite believing the other is serious.
“That — that night at dinner,” Eddie says, as though it’s obvious. “When Chris was at a movie, and you made lasagne, and I told you…”
Buck blinks again.
His brain takes yet another moment to process.
Then, “Eddie! You mean when you said you wanted to go to the zoo?”
“What!? That’s not what I said! I told you I was a penguin! Like you’re a penguin!”
“What?” Buck says, even though — yeah, he remembers Eddie saying that. He just didn’t quite realise that part was significant. “And that was — Eddie, was that your way of coming out to me?”
“It was a metaphor!” Eddie exclaims, as if that makes literally any sense, and his cheeks are growing pink, his eyes darting all over the place, but he’s still in Buck’s arms, and Buck’s chest just fucking — bursts, with utter adoration. “Oh my god. This is mortifying.”
“Eddie, Eddie, Eds, waitwaitwait,” he says, half laughing but trying to keep it together, because he doesn’t want Eddie to be embarrassed. “Baby, please look at me.”
With what appears to be a whole lot of reluctance, Eddie does, his entire face glowing the most beautiful tomato red that Buck’s ever seen.
“Eddie,” Buck says again, because it may just be his favourite word. He shifts a hand to cradle Eddie’s jaw, heart flipping at the sheer warmth of his cheek. “This is quite literally the best news I’ve ever heard.”
“You didn’t even know!”
“Okay, yeah. But, you know. In the past, what? Sixty seconds? You’ve made me realise just how much I want this. How much I’ve always wanted it. I just never let myself think about it. I didn’t realise it was allowed, Eddie. That — that you were allowed.”
Eddie’s expression softens, something so beautifully tender in his gaze as it dances over Buck’s face. “Buck,” he murmurs, and maybe Buck’s name is his favourite, too, with all that sweetness that’s threaded into it now. “It’s allowed.”
And it’s all so ridiculous, so stupid, but how can Buck care when Eddie’s looking at him like this? When Eddie’s drawing him back in close, his breath warm on Buck’s mouth as he closes the distance between them?
“Good,” Buck says, and it’s a sentiment that Eddie seals with his lips.
+
They decide to go to the zoo anyway, about a month later.
Unsurprisingly, Chris declines their invitation to join, citing their new relationship sappiness as the reason, which is probably fair. But that’s okay, because Buck’s got his itinerary all planned out anyway.
He does pack a picnic lunch, picking up those good peaches from the farmers’ market, making Eddie’s favourite monstrosity of a sandwich, sneaking in that fancy juice Eddie loves but always worries is too expensive. And when they’re at the zoo, they hold hands, and make stupid jokes, and help each other with sunscreen, and even sneak a kiss in the butterfly house, something soft and sweet and somehow already familiar.
When they finally reach the penguins sometime in the afternoon, it’s with matching smiles that have pretty much been permanent fixtures the entire day — the entire month.
And Buck knows that Eddie’s still embarrassed about how everything went down, but when he sees a pair of penguins huddling close together by one corner, he can’t help it.
“Look, Eddie, it’s us,” he says, and Eddie groans when he follows the direction Buck’s pointing, tucking his face into Buck’s shoulder, his cheeks very likely already turning that fantastic shade of red.
“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” He asks, the words muffled, and Buck laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.
“Absolutely not.”
Eddie sighs, lifting his head to look at Buck, his mouth tipped into a wry smile.
Then, “Whatever,” he says, shifting even closer, like they are in fact those two penguins. “It’s worth it.”
And it really, really, is.