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In no way did Buck think this whole 'becoming a dad overnight' thing would be easy, but good lord, he wishes someone had given him more of a warning. Or maybe, to be fair to his family members, he wishes he had listened a bit more to the warnings they had given him when he had informed them of his decision to foster Theo.
So when he hears a knock on his front door at midday, he opens it looking like hell. He knows he's got yoghurt in his hair from breakfast a few hours ago, and probably marker all over his face from when he'd had to wrestle it from Theo's surprisingly strong grip in order to save his walls. He really doesn't want to think about what he must smell like either, considering he was so tired after finally getting Theo into bed last night, he had fallen right into his own and passed out without showering after a day of chasing around a hyperactive toddler.
Eddie stands there for a moment taking everything in. Buck's appearance, the unmistakable sound of a smoke detector chirping, and the notable absence of one adorable little pocket rocket. He blinks slowly.
"Okay," Eddie says carefully, "how bad is it?"
Buck releases a laugh with a slightly hysterical edge.
"Well I gave him yogurt."
Eddie waits.
"And?"
"And apparently he liked it."
"I'm not really seeing the problem here, Buck," Eddie teases, stepping through the doorway into Buck's house, "except for you being in the splash zone." He reaches up and picks a piece of crusted yogurt from one of Buck's curls.
"No, you don't understand," Buck says, throwing his hands up with exasperated urgency, "he liked it too much. I think he’s had, like, six yogurts today.”
Eddie pauses halfway through toeing his shoes off.
"Six?"
"Maybe seven. Although I'm not sure how much of that last one made it into his stomach," Buck admits, gesturing to his hair.
"Jesus Christ."
“I googled it and one website said too much dairy can upset their stomachs and another one said toddlers intuitively regulate nutrients naturally and another one said absolutely no processed sugar before age five and now I think the internet is trying to kill me," Buck rambles.
Eddie only stares at him fondly, fighting a smile creeping across his face as his eyes sparkle with humour.
"Eddie, this isn't funny! I'm going to accidentally kill my kid!"
"Whoa there, Buckley. Deep breaths."
Eddie raises his hands placatingly.
"I'm here to help, man. Why don't we go find Theo."
Buck steps aside to let Eddie past, gesturing towards the living room.
"I haven't had a chance to clean, sorry."
The living room looks like a daycare that's survived a natural disaster. And believe him, Eddie has seen his fair share of those.
Blocks cover the floor. Tiny plastic dinosaurs occupy the coffee table in what appears to be a territorial dispute. There’s a sippy cup upside down beneath the couch and Bluey playing softly on the TV. And right in the middle of it all, sits Theo.
He's cross-legged on the rug in firetruck pajamas, tufts of hair sticking up in every direction, solemnly attempting to feed yogurt to Buck's couch cushion with a plastic spoon.
Buck turns to look at Eddie, expecting to find some hint of judgement or amusement, but he only watches as Eddie's face softens in real time.
"Hey Theo, whatcha doing there?" Eddie asks gently, slowly approaching the focused toddler.
"Hi Mr Poop's friend! Couch told me he was hungry," Theo grins, offering the spoon towards him.
Eddie looks at the couch. Then at the spoon. Then back at Theo.
"... I'm good, buddy."
Theo shrugs and resumes smearing the dairy all over the sectional.
Buck leans heavily against the wall beside the door.
“I haven’t slept in three days.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“I fell asleep standing up while making dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.”
“…Okay, that one might actually be concerning.”
Buck points at him immediately.
“See? Thank you.”
Eddie bites back a smile. He knows Buck must feel like he's drowning, God knows he felt that way when he was attempting to learn how to look after Chris by himself, but he can see something different in Buck already. Buck's house has always felt warm and welcoming, but there's something about the crayons on the counter, the tiny shoes by the door, the patterned blankets strewn around the room, that completes it.
He can already see that Theo belongs here. That Buck belongs with Theo. He feels something in his chest pull tight at that realisation, but decides to keep it to himself until he can find a way to show Buck what everyone else can see.
Buck rubs both his hands down his face, "It's been 3 days and I still have no idea what I'm doing."
Theo abandons the couch and waddles directly towards Buck, wrapping himself around Buck's leg without hesitation.
Buck automatically reaches down to steady him, the movement already natural and instinctive. Eddie watches Buck rest his hand against Theo’s hair without even thinking about it and feels, just for a second, strangely winded.
Then Theo looks up at Buck with complete trust and says, very seriously, "More yogurt."
Buck closes his eyes.
Eddie laughs so hard he nearly drops the bag of Chris' old toys in his hand.
The next time Eddie comes over is a few days later, when he arrives to pick up Chris who had insisted on spending time with Theo. His argument had been that Buck deserves some time to relax and he had no homework for that week anyway, but Eddie suspects that he just likes having a small shadow that idolises him.
The first time the two had met, Theo had become absolutely enamoured by Chris ("must be genetic," Buck had commented) and had been begging for Chris to come back ever since. Eddie won't admit that he nearly cried when he saw the two of them together, but he won't deny it either.
When he lets himself in the front door, he finds Buck sitting cross-legged on the floor of the living room surrounded by approximately seventeen parenting books and looking deeply distressed.
Christopher barely glances up from where he’s building a Duplo castle with Theo.
"If you're about to give yourself a brain aneurysm, I'm glad you at least waited until a paramedic arrived," Eddie says.
Buck points at him immediately. “Did you know there are different philosophies on bedtime?”
Eddie stares.
“What?”
“There’s responsive settling, and graduated extinction, and sleep shaping—”
“Buck.”
“—and one website said if I cuddle him to sleep too often he’ll never develop self-soothing skills—”
“Buck.”
Buck finally looks up.
Eddie gestures toward Theo, who is currently trying to balance Duplo pieces on Christopher’s head while Christopher endures it with the exhausted patience of an older brother who has accepted his fate.
“He’s alive,” Eddie says flatly. “You’re doing fine.”
Buck flops backwards onto the carpet dramatically.
Christopher snorts.
Buck glares at both of them from the floor. “You’re all very unsupportive.”
Three days later, Buck calls him from a grocery store sounding one inconvenience away from a complete psychological collapse.
“There are too many yogurts.”
Eddie blinks slowly at his phone.
“…What?”
“There are probiotic yogurts and Greek yogurts and low-fat yogurts and yogurts specifically for children and I don’t know which one means I’m a good father.”
Eddie presses the heel of his hand against his forehead.
“Where are you?”
“Aisle seven.”
“Stay there.”
When Eddie arrives twenty minutes later, Buck looks personally victimised by dairy products.
Theo sits in the cart seat chewing on the sleeve of Buck’s hoodie while Christopher walks beside them eating pretzels directly from the bag.
“You guys came,” Buck says weakly, dark circles prominent under his eyes.
“You sounded insane.”
“I am insane.”
Eddie grabs a random tub of yogurt and tosses it into the cart.
“There. Problem solved.”
Buck looks horrified. “You didn’t even check the sugar content.”
“Buck, our parents fed us radioactive cheese sticks and Capri Suns. Theo will survive.”
Christopher nods solemnly. “I once ate sidewalk chalk.”
Eddie turns sharply. “You what?”
Chris shrugs.
Buck points at him triumphantly. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
Eddie just rolls his eyes fondly, “Come on, let’s get through the rest of your list.”
By the time they make it to the cereal aisle, Theo has fallen asleep in the cart with his cheek squished against Buck’s arm.
Buck stops mid-rant about artificial food dye.
“Oh,” he whispers softly.
Carefully, he adjusts him into a more comfortable position, taking off his jumper to shield Theo from the cold metal of the cart.
The movement is so natural Eddie almost misses it.
Almost.
But then Buck brushes curls back from Theo’s forehead with unconscious tenderness and something catches painfully in Eddie’s chest.
Because he’s seen this before. Buck carrying Christopher asleep into the Diaz house after movie nights. Buck sitting beside with Chris beside Eddie's hospital bed after he got shot. Buck kneeling in front of Chris after Shannon died, speaking quietly while Chris cried so hard he could barely breathe.
Buck has always loved like this.
And standing there beneath fluorescent grocery store lights watching Theo sleep against Buck’s chest, Eddie realises with startling clarity that Buck isn’t only now learning how to be a father.
“Okay,” Buck says seriously, crouching beside Theo at the park, “new mission.”
Theo sniffles miserably.
The playground had been too loud. Too crowded. One minute Theo had been laughing and screaming joyfully, the next he’d frozen halfway down the slide with tears streaking down his cheeks.
Eddie had started moving automatically, but Buck got there first
Now he kneels in the grass directly in front of Theo, calm and steady and impossibly gentle.
“How many dogs do you think are here?”
Theo blinks.
“…Dogs?”
“Mm-hm. Important research.”
Theo’s breathing hiccups.
Buck lowers his voice conspiratorially.
“I think I saw one wearing a sweater.”
Theo looks scandalised.
“A sweater?”
“I know. We should investigate.”
Slowly, Theo reaches for him.
Buck gathers him in his arms without hesitation, tucking Theo's small head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, and stroking the small curls at the base of his neck. His heart breaks a little more each time he remembers how much Theo's life has changed over the past two weeks. Losing his parents, not yet understanding quite what that means, and having to move into an unfamiliar house with a stranger.
Eddie watches from the nearby bench while Christopher leans against his shoulder, having looked up from messaging his friends on his phone.
“He’s good at this,” Chris says quietly.
Eddie swallows hard.
Buck points toward a golden retriever trotting across the park.
“That one counts double because he’s fluffy.”
Theo giggles wetly against Buck’s shoulder.
And Eddie, God.
Eddie remembers Buck crouched in the kitchen after Chris’s first panic attack, speaking in that same calm voice until Chris could breathe again. Remembers Buck taking turns with him sitting awake at Chris' bedside after the tsunami because Chris had been too scared to sleep alone. Remembers Buck showing up over and over and over again for both of them without ever asking for anything in return. Like loving them had never been a choice.
Something warm and terrifying twists in Eddie’s ribs.
He looks away before Buck can catch him staring.
Theo’s nightmare happens a week later.
Eddie wakes to soft crying through the walls of the house. He and Chris have been spending a few nights a week over at Buck's, to help him out with Theo during the chaotic nights.
Beside him, Christopher groans sleepily.
“Theo?”
“Yeah.”
By the time Eddie reaches the hallway, Buck is already sitting on the animal themed bed-sheets with Theo clinging to him miserably, his small body wracked with sobs.
“There’s no monster, buddy,” Buck murmurs softly into Theo's hair.
Theo shakes his head hard enough to shake his entire body.
“Monster,” he insists tearfully. "He took away Mummy and Daddy and he's gonna get me."
Buck looks exhausted, heartbroken, and helpless all at once.
Then Christopher appears behind Eddie rubbing one eye.
“You forgot the dinosaur night-light.”
Buck looks up immediately. “What?”
“The green one,” Chris says simply. “The stars calm him down.” Eddie glances at him, pride swelling in his chest.
Buck grabs the night-light from the dresser and plugs it in. Soft green stars spill across the ceiling instantly. Theo’s crying quiets almost immediately.
Christopher pads carefully over to the bed and climbs in beside him.
“You know what velociraptors would do to a monster?” he asks seriously.
Theo sniffs. “What?”
And just like that, Christopher launches into an increasingly dramatic dinosaur story involving laser cannons, lava pits, and scientifically impossible levels of destruction. Theo listens with sleepy fascination, and Buck watches them like his heart is breaking open.
Eddie watches Buck watching Christopher. The look on Buck’s face hurts. It’s a look of pure, uncomplicated, enormous love.
“He’s really good with him,” Buck whispers.
Eddie answers automatically.
“Yeah. He always has been.”
The second the words leave his mouth, something shifts.
Buck glances over and Eddie feels his own heartbeat stutter.
Because he didn’t mean Christopher, not entirely. He meant Buck too.
Buck, who has always known how to love Christopher. Buck, who somehow became woven into every part of Eddie’s life so gradually Eddie never noticed it happening. Until now.
Until Theo.
By the second week of fostering Theo, Buck develops what Eddie privately labels a pathological dependence on parenting forums.
This becomes everyone else’s problem almost immediately.
“You know,” Buck says one evening, standing in Eddie’s kitchen while aggressively cutting apple slices, “some experts think screen time before bed negatively impacts emotional regulation.”
Christopher doesn’t even look up from his math homework.
“I think you negatively impact emotional regulation.”
Buck points the knife at him.
“That’s exactly the kind of attitude I’m talking about.”
“Buck,” Eddie says carefully, “you watched Fast and Furious with Chris when he was nine.”
“In my defence, he loved it.”
“I did,” Christopher confirms.
Buck looks vindicated for approximately three seconds before Theo barrels into the kitchen wearing one of Eddie's hoodies like a wizard robe.
"Theo! Where did you get that?" Buck rushes towards him, going to take it off him, "I'm so sorry Eds, I don't know how he found this."
Eddie waves his hand, "Don't bother, he looks much cuter in it than I do."
Theo just giggles and runs over to Chris.
"Play with me!"
Chris shuts his maths workbook with an exasperated smile and lets Theo drag him by the hand to another part of the house, leaving Buck and Eddie in the kitchen. They watch them leave with a helpless sort of fondness.
Buck definitely does not get teary-eyed witnessing the brotherly bond. Not at all.
The first time Theo asks Eddie for comfort instead of Buck, it nearly undoes him. It happens after Theo trips over one of Buck’s dumbbells and skins his knee. The crying starts instantly. Buck appears from the laundry room looking panicked. “What happened?” Theo hiccups hard around his tears and reaches directly for Eddie.
“Eddie,” Theo cries pitifully.
Eddie’s body moves before his brain catches up.
He scoops Theo up carefully, settling him against his chest automatically while Buck kneels beside them.
“Oh, buddy,” Eddie murmurs softly. “Lemme see.”
Theo presses his damp face into Eddie’s shoulder. Buck hovers nearby with a first aid kit in hand.
“You okay if I—?”
Theo nods miserably. So Buck gently cleans the scrape while Eddie holds him steady.
It's only once Theo has calmed down, having been bandaged up and sitting on the couch with a popsicle in hand (and all over his face), that Eddie realised just how seamless that teamwork was. Almost like they'd been doing this forever.
And then it hits him. They have been doing this forever.
Buck has always been involved in Chris and Eddie's life. He notices their food preferences, the signs of an incoming panic attack, which days Eddie’s shoulder hurts more, and how to make Chris laugh after nightmares.
Buck has been there for all of it. Every bad day, good day, ordinary day. It freaks Eddie out a little, as he is finally able to recognise the shape their dynamic has taken on over the past seven years. They've been building a family.
Three days later, Eddie finds Buck asleep at the kitchen table.
It’s barely seven in the morning.
Theo sits beside him happily eating cereal directly with his hands while Christopher attempts to make pancakes.
“Is he dead?” Christopher asks without looking up.
Buck snores softly against his folded arms.
“Possibly.”
Theo grins. “Papa sleepy.”
The word settles strangely warm in Eddie’s chest.
Buck still hasn’t gotten used to it. Eddie can tell every single time Theo says it because Buck’s whole face softens in startled disbelief. The first time it had happened, Buck had panicked. He didn't want Theo to forget Connor and Kameron, or to grow to resent him for replacing them in his life. Eddie had shut that down immediately, reminding Buck of the multiple pictures of Theo's parents he had put up around the house and the multiple (censored) stories about all of Buck's adventures with them that Theo had already been told. Eddie knew that Theo would never grow up not knowing his parents, and he had told Buck as much.
Buck makes a muffled sound against the table.
“You’re conscious,” Eddie says, mildly surprised.
“Unfortunately.”
Christopher flips a pancake with all the confidence of someone who has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. It lands halfway on the stove and Theo gasps delightedly, clapping his hands.
“Again!”
“Absolutely not,” Eddie says at the exact same time Buck groans, “Jesus Christ.”
Christopher grins unapologetically.
And standing there in the middle of Buck’s kitchen while Theo laughs and Buck sleepily argues with Chris about kitchen safety, Eddie feels that strange tightness in his chest again. Everything about this feels domestic in a way Eddie has been trying very hard not to examine too closely lately.
Buck steals sips from Eddie’s coffee without asking. Christopher automatically passes Buck the syrup without being asked. Theo climbs into Eddie’s lap halfway through breakfast.
It all fits together too easily.
The realisation doesn't hit Eddie all at once, but sneaks up on him in small increments.
Buck asleep on the couch with Theo sprawled across his chest after movie night.
Buck standing in the Diaz kitchen helping Christopher study while absentmindedly bouncing Theo on his hip.
Buck showing up to one of Christopher’s physical therapy appointments because “you looked stressed.”
It builds slowly and dangerously, like a wave that he knows will come crashing down on him.
And crash down on him it does, on an ordinary, slightly chaotic Wednesday night at Buck's house.
Theo has spent the entire evening in what Christopher calls “gremlin mode.” There was crying because Buck cut his toast wrong (yes they had breakfast for dinner - sometimes you have to pick which battles you fight). Then because the bath water was “too wet.” Then because his dinosaur plush had “looked at him weird.”
By the time Theo finally falls asleep, Buck looks approximately three seconds away from lying face-down on the floor forever.
“You good?” Eddie asks carefully.
Buck blinks slowly.
“No.”
Christopher pats his shoulder sympathetically as he heads toward bed.
“You’ll survive.”
“Your confidence in me feels misplaced.”
Theo wakes up crying again twenty minutes later.
Then again forty minutes after that.
By midnight, everyone is exhausted.
Eddie must fall asleep eventually because when he wakes again, the house is dark and silent. His throat feels dry, so he slips out of bed carefully and heads for the kitchen. The TV flickers softly in the living room. He rounds the corner and stops breathing.
Buck is asleep on the couch. Theo is sprawled bonelessly across his chest, one tiny hand tangled in the collar of Buck’s hoodie. Buck’s arm wraps around him protectively, even in sleep. The television casts a soft blue light across both of them.
And suddenly Eddie is overwhelmed by the unbearable familiarity of it.
He grips the edge of the kitchen counter hard enough to ache.
Because he spent years trying to force himself into a life that never fit quite right. With Shannon. With expectations. With the version of himself he thought he was supposed to be. That his parents wanted him to be.
And somehow, somewhere along the way, family became less of a far-off ideal and more of this. Buck asleep on the couch. Two boys safe under the same roof. Warmth filling every corner of the house.
And there it is. He's in love with Buck. He is so hopelessly, completely in love with Buck. He probably has been for years, if he's being honest with himself.
He steps forward quietly, pulls a blanket over Buck and Theo's merged frames, and steps back, letting himself stare unhurriedly for a moment. And then he breaks the tiny bubble of intimacy, and retreats back to the guest room for the night, knowing he won't be getting much sleep at all.
The problem with realising you’re in love with your best friend, Eddie discovers, is that said best friend continues existing afterward completely unaware of the psychological warfare he’s inflicting. Which feels inconsiderate, quite frankly. Like really, if they can be so in tune with each other about so many things, why can't they just suddenly become aware of their feelings and start dating immediately? But no, Buck the selfish bastard, gives up no hint of the nature of his own feelings and leaves Eddie to pine hopelessly by himself.
“Can you hold this?”
Buck shoves a tiny sneaker into Eddie’s chest while simultaneously trying to wrestle Theo into a jacket. Theo twists away immediately.
“No coat.”
“It’s raining.”
“No raining.”
Buck points toward the windows where rain is currently slamming against the glass hard enough to rattle them.
“Theo. Buddy. It is quite literally bucketing down outside.”
Theo narrows his eyes suspiciously.
Christopher walks past them toward the kitchen.
“He’s stalling because he doesn’t wanna leave.”
Buck sighs. “Thank you, toddler whisperer.”
“You’re welcome.”
Then Christopher pauses beside Eddie, glances between him and Buck once, and frowns slightly. Eddie feels immediate dread. Christopher has inherited Shannon’s terrifying ability to notice things.
“You okay?” Chris asks quietly.
Eddie nearly chokes on air. “Why wouldn’t I be okay? I am so very okay!”
Christopher continues staring.
“You’ve been weird for like four days.”
Buck looks up immediately. “Weird how?”
“Like this.” Christopher gestures vaguely toward Eddie’s entire existence.
Theo suddenly gasps. “Octopus weather!”
All three of them turn.
Theo points insistently toward the window.
“Too much rain. Octopuses will come out.”
Buck closes his eyes briefly. “I knew teaching him about marine biology was a mistake.”
“You showed him Finding Nemo,” Eddie reminds him.
“And now he thinks cephalopods are plotting against us.”
Christopher shrugs. “Fair. Have you seen them escape from tiny holes in sealed boxes? They could absolutely take over the world, and there’s nothing we’d be able to do to stop it.”
Theo finally allows Buck to put the jacket on after Buck promises the hood will provide “advanced octopus defense.” As Buck zips it up, Theo grabs his face with both tiny hands and says very seriously, “Good job, Papa.”
Buck freezes.
It happens every time. That same startled softness overtakes his whole expression, like Theo’s trust still catches him off guard. It makes Eddie sad to think that Buck still can’t believe he deserves it.
And the sight of Buck’s large hand wrapped gently around the hand of a much smaller, hyperactive version of himself also makes Eddie want to jump his bones a tiny bit. But he may be getting ahead of himself there.
It gets worse after that. Eddie notices everything now.
The way Buck automatically reaches for Christopher’s backpack when Eddie's shoulder starts bothering him. The way he cuts Theo’s pancakes into tiny dinosaur shapes without thinking.The way he knows exactly which tone of voice settles Chris down when he gets overwhelmed. The way he still looks at Eddie first, as if Eddie is still the person he wants to share things with after so many years.
“Buck helped me with my history project,” Christopher says one night over dinner.
Eddie looks up from his plate. “Oh yeah?”
Buck shrugs casually. “He needed another set of eyes.”
Christopher snorts. “No, I needed someone to stop you from color-coding the entire presentation.”
“It would’ve looked professional.”
“It looked insane.”
Theo points his fork dramatically. “Insane.”
“Traitor,” Buck tells him.
Theo giggles.
And Eddie just… watches them. He watches his family, and yes he’s finally letting himself call it that now, interacting so naturally. Buck bickers playfully with Chris about Powerpoint aesthetics while Theo climbs into his lap, demanding more macaroni. He immediately steadies Theo with one arm without missing a beat.
The confession almost happens three separate times before it actually does.
The first is after Christopher falls asleep during movie night with his head on Buck’s shoulder and Theo curled against Eddie’s side.
Buck looks over at them both with quiet affection and says softly, “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”
Eddie’s heart nearly climbs out of his throat, and all he can do is nod softly.
But then Theo wakes up grumbling about being thirsty and the moment disappears.
The second is in the firehouse parking lot after Buck spends twenty uninterrupted minutes talking about Theo’s preschool applications.
“He likes the one with the reading corner,” Buck says absently. “And there’s this teacher there who used to work with neurodivergent kids, which I thought could be good because Theo gets overwhelmed sometimes and—”
He stops suddenly.
Eddie’s staring at him.
“What?”
Eddie can’t breathe for a second. Buck is talking about Theo’s future like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like he’s finally accepted his place in Theo’s life. He’s not scared anymore, and the ease and confidence he talks about permanence with is really doing it for Eddie.
“Nothing,” Eddie says too quickly.
Buck narrows his eyes suspiciously.
“You’re being weird again.”
Eddie immediately opens his truck door. “Okay bye.”
“Eddie—”
He practically falls into the driver’s seat to escape.
The third almost-confession happens because Buck falls asleep with his head in Eddie’s lap after shift.
That one is particularly catastrophic. The firehouse is quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside. Buck had been talking one second and unconscious the next, exhaustion finally catching up with him.
Eddie looks down. Buck’s cheek is pressed against his thigh, his mouth slightly open in his sleep and his hands tucked into his chest. Eddie’s chest hurts so badly he has to close his eyes.
Hen walks in, takes one look at them, and immediately backs out again whispering,“Oh, this is getting embarrassing.”
Eddie almost throws a pillow at her.
The actual confession happens on a Saturday at 2:13 am in the morning because Theo develops a sudden and deeply irrational fear of octopuses.
“They have too many arms,” Theo whispers fearfully from beneath his blanket.
Buck blinks at him through visible exhaustion.
“It is literally the middle of the night.”
“The octopus knows that.”
Eddie makes one sharp, broken sound from the hallway that might technically qualify as laughter.
Buck points at him. “Don’t encourage this.”
What follows is three straight hours of chaos. Buck checks under the bed no fewer than fourteen times. Christopher sleepily contributes, “Octopuses can’t survive outside water.”
Theo counters immediately, “But maybe this one can.”
Buck stares at the ceiling like he’s reconsidering every life choice that led him here. Eventually Buck constructs what he labels an “anti-octopus perimeter” using stuffed animals and a flashlight. Theo accepts this. Barely.
By the time he finally falls asleep, Buck and Eddie are both running on approximately four brain cells between them. They collapse in the hallway outside Theo’s room. Buck tips his head back against the wall with a groan.
“How did you do this alone?”
And that— that does it.
Because Eddie can still see Buck asleep on the couch with Theo curled against him.
Can still feel the weight of that realisation sitting inside his chest.
Eddie laughs suddenly, and not normal laughter either. No, the slightly hysterical kind born entirely from exhaustion and emotional repression.
Buck turns his head slowly.
“…You okay?”
“That’s the thing,” Eddie says helplessly, smiling. “I wasn’t alone.”
Buck frowns slightly.
“What?”
Eddie looks at him intently and takes a deep breath.
“Buck,” Eddie says softly, “you’ve been raising Christopher with me for years.”
Buck goes utterly still. Eddie should stop talking. He should really stop talking. Instead, exhaustion destroys what little self-preservation he has left.
“I mean obviously not legally, or like completely legally, because that’d be insane, but emotionally? Yeah.” Eddie laughs weakly. “You were there for all of it. You’re there for everything.”
Buck just stares at him.
“And then seeing you with Theo and Chris with Theo and all this domestic bullshit—”
Buck makes a strangled noise.
“—and suddenly I’m realising I’ve been in love with you for a very long time apparently, which honestly feels rude to figure out at two in the morning while your kid is finally unconscious.”
Silence. Complete silence.
Buck blinks once. Then twice.
“You’re in love with me?”
Eddie immediately stands up.
“Actually I think I’m hallucinating from sleep deprivation so let’s revisit this never—”
Buck grabs his wrist, pulls him back and kisses him.
It’s not graceful in the slightest. It’s startled and desperate and a little off-centre because Buck nearly misses his mouth the first time. And then both of them are smiling too wide to actually kiss properly and the sound of teeth clacking fills the silence, which is a little bit weird but admittedly very fitting for them.
But then they sober up a bit, and Eddie kisses him back properly and suddenly neither of them are breathing normally anymore.
Buck pulls away just enough to look at him. His eyes are wide, almost disbelieving.
“I didn’t let myself think about it,” he admits quietly. “You and Chris were already… everything. I thought wanting more would ruin it. That actually acknowledging what was there would make it disappear.”
God.
Eddie cups the back of his neck immediately.
“You could never ruin it.”
Buck laughs once shakily, like he can’t quite believe this is real, and leans in again. But before they can make contact, Theo snores loudly from inside the bedroom, and both of them dissolve into exhausted laughter.
And somehow that makes it even better. It’s not some dramatic life-altering moment. It’s just them, still them.
Only now, they’re finally brave enough to put a name to what’s always been there.