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Eddie heard the chaos before Buck opened the door.
Something inside the house thumped hard enough that Christopher stopped on the porch and lifted his eyebrows.
From somewhere deeper inside, Buck said, “Theo, buddy, the couch is not a trampoline.”
A pause.
Then, with the absolute confidence of a four-year-old who had done no research and would not be accepting peer review: “It is bouncy.”
Christopher looked up at Eddie.
Eddie looked back.
From inside, Buck said, “Well. Yes. Technically it is bouncy, but that’s not—”
Another thump.
A shriek of laughter.
Buck again, louder this time. “Okay, that one sounded like it hurt. Did that hurt?”
“No!”
“Your face says yes.”
“My face is wrong!”
Christopher’s mouth twitched.
Eddie rang the doorbell.
The thumping stopped like someone had cut the power to a small, badly supervised carnival ride.
Then came a gasp so dramatic it could only belong to someone under five or Buck Buckley operating on very little sleep. Small feet slapped across the floor.
“Theo, wait—” Buck called.
The door flew open.
A little boy stood there in dinosaur socks, one pant leg shoved halfway up his shin, curls sticking out in every direction. Around his neck hung a medal on a ribbon. He had one hand wrapped around it.
He stared at Eddie.
Eddie stared back.
The kid narrowed his eyes.
Behind him, Buck appeared in an apron over a blue T-shirt, slightly out of breath, hair a mess from what was probably cooking, parenting, or arguing with furniture.
Eddie noticed the hair first because he was a grown man with excellent priorities and absolutely no self-respect where Buck was concerned.
“Hey,” Buck said, smiling like he hadn’t just been losing a legal argument to a preschooler. “You made it.”
Theo didn’t move.
Buck glanced down. “Theo. Door.”
Theo pointed at Christopher. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Chris,” Buck said. “Remember? We talked about Eddie bringing Chris over for dinner.”
Theo’s eyes dropped straight to Christopher’s crutches.
“You have sticks.”
Christopher blinked, then glanced down at them. “Yep.”
“Can I have them?”
“No.”
Theo considered this. “For one minute?”
“No.”
“For ten seconds?”
“No.”
Buck put a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “We talked about asking before touching people’s things.”
“I did ask.”
“Right. And Chris answered.”
Theo sighed like consent was personally exhausting. “Fine.”
Christopher leaned slightly toward Eddie and murmured, “I like him.”
Eddie huffed.
Buck tried to pretend he hadn’t heard that. He also failed immediately. His whole face went warm and pleased in that way it still did whenever Christopher approved of something in his orbit, like Chris’s opinion mattered more than gravity.
Eddie looked away.
Ridiculous, getting hit in the chest by Buck’s expression before they’d even made it inside.
“Come in,” Buck said, stepping back. “Dinner’s basically done. And by basically done, I mean actually done, because I am a good cook and I’d like that noted before anyone accuses me of panic timing.”
“You panic timed?” Eddie asked, stepping over the threshold.
“I adjusted.”
“You yelled at the oven,” Theo said.
Buck pointed at him. “The oven and I had a disagreement.”
“You said a bad word.”
Buck froze.
Eddie looked at him.
Christopher looked delighted.
Buck’s ears went pink. “I said a grown-up word quietly.”
“You said it loud to the oven.”
“The oven had it coming.”
Buck's house looked like a home.
There were toys in a basket near the hallway. A drawing stuck to the fridge with a whale magnet. Two mismatched throw pillows on the couch, one with a tiny sock sitting on top like it had retired there. The dining table had four places set and one plastic cup covered in cartoon sea creatures.
And photos. Everywhere.
Christopher at twelve, grinning at the pier with Buck’s sunglasses crooked on his face. Jee-Yun in a sunhat, fist buried in what looked like Chimney’s hair. Baby Nash asleep against Maddie’s shoulder under a yellow blanket. The 118 crammed into Bobby and Athena’s backyard, all of them laughing at something just outside the frame.
Eddie had seen most of the photos before.
It still got him.
Buck collected people. Not in a weird way. Probably. But he kept proof. Frames, fridge magnets, shelves, little bits of evidence that he had loved and been loved and survived both.
Now Theo was here too. Crayon drawings. Plastic dinosaurs. One tiny sock abandoned on the couch like a crime scene.
Buck moved through it all like he was still surprised he was allowed to have it.
Eddie had to look away from that too.
Theo, unfortunately, was still looking directly at him.
“You’re tall,” Theo announced.
From the kitchen, Buck made a warning noise. “Theo.”
“What? He is.”
“I am,” Eddie said.
Theo nodded once, satisfied, then pointed at him. “He’s the tall one.”
Christopher’s mouth dropped open with instant, horrible joy.
Buck spun around with a wooden spoon in hand. “Hey. No. I am the tall one.”
Eddie lifted his eyebrows.
Buck pointed the spoon at him. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was going to say dinner smells good.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Theo frowned up at Buck. “But Eddie is tall.”
“Eddie is tall,” Buck said, in the careful voice of a man trying not to lose an argument to a child wearing dinosaur socks. “But I am taller.”
Theo looked at Buck.
Then Eddie.
Then Buck again.
“Are you sure?”
Christopher made a noise like he was about to choke on joy.
Buck’s grip tightened around the spoon. “Yes, Theo. I’m sure.”
“Because Eddie looks taller.”
“He does not look taller.”
Theo squinted at Eddie like he was conducting field research. “He does.”
Buck looked genuinely offended now. “I’m six-two.”
Theo stared blankly.
Eddie said, “That means nothing to him.”
“It means,” Buck said, still looking at Theo, “that I am two inches taller than Eddie.”
Theo held up four fingers. “I’m four.”
“Yes, you are. Thank you. I’m still taller than Eddie.”
Christopher finally laughed, turning it into a cough too late to be convincing.
Buck rounded on him. “Yes, Christopher?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Chris said, grinning.
Theo leaned toward Eddie and whispered, very loudly, “He’s mad because you’re taller.”
Eddie cracked.
Buck pointed the spoon at all of them. “This house is full of traitors.”
“Technically,” Eddie said, smiling despite himself, “it’s your house.”
“Exactly. My house. Where I am the tallest.”
Theo nodded slowly, with the solemn mercy of a tiny king. “Okay, Buck.”
Buck narrowed his eyes. “That was not a believing okay.”
Eddie looked at him then — really looked, which was always a mistake.
Buck was flushed and indignant, wooden spoon raised like he might knight someone or commit a felony with it. His apron was crooked. His hair was a disaster. He looked happy.
Eddie was unfortunately, embarrassingly fond.
Buck caught him staring.
For half a second, the room changed shape.
Not dramatically. Nothing that would show up on paper. Just Buck’s eyes lingering a little too long, his mouth softening around whatever he’d been about to say. Eddie felt it anyway. The tiny shift. The dangerous little almost.
Then Theo tugged on Buck’s apron.
“Buck.”
Buck blinked first. “Yeah, buddy?”
“Can the tallest one give me cheese?”
Buck looked down at him, visibly deciding to accept victory on a technicality. “Yes. The tallest one can absolutely give you cheese.”
Eddie’s mouth twitched.
Buck lifted the spoon without looking at him. “No commentary from the six-foot section.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Theo looked between them.
Then at the spoon.
Then back at Eddie.
“You’re fighting.”
“We’re not fighting,” Buck and Eddie said together.
Theo gasped. “You did it at the same time.”
Christopher muttered, “Yeah, that happens a lot.”
Buck shot him a look. “Not helping.”
“Wasn’t trying to.”
Theo leaned closer to Eddie. “Buck fights when he has a spoon.”
Eddie nodded gravely. “Good to know.”
“He does it with pancakes too.”
Buck froze halfway to the fridge. “That is private family information.”
Eddie looked at him. “You have pancake fights?”
“No.”
Theo said, “With the pan.”
Buck closed his eyes. “I argue with the pan. Different thing.”
Christopher said, “Is it?”
Buck got the parmesan from the fridge with enormous dignity. “Everyone in this house is very lucky I cooked.”
Dinner was pasta, garlic bread, salad, and enough parmesan cheese for Buck to pretend he wasn’t enabling a dairy-based crime.
Theo insisted on sitting next to Eddie because, as he explained, he needed to “watch him.”
“Watch me do what?” Eddie asked as Buck settled across from him.
Theo leaned closer over his plate. His medal swung forward and landed directly in his pasta.
Buck made a small noise of parental horror. “Medal.”
Theo looked down.
His face collapsed.
“Oh no.”
“It’s okay,” Buck said immediately, already reaching for a napkin. “It’s fine. It’s just sauce.”
Theo clutched the medal in both hands. “It has tomato on it.”
“We can clean it.”
“It’s a medal, Buck.”
Eddie bit the inside of his cheek.
Christopher had no such discipline and covered his laugh with a cough.
Buck dabbed at the medal with extreme care, like Theo had handed him something ancient and holy instead of something currently wearing marinara. “I know it’s a medal.”
“It’s important.”
“I know it is.”
“It means I am brave.”
Buck’s face changed.
Eddie noticed the small things: Buck’s mouth softening, his hand slowing over the medal like Theo had handed him something precious.
“Yeah, buddy,” Buck said quietly. “It does.”
Eddie looked down at his plate.
That was the problem with Buck. One second he was being ridiculous about height and spoons, and the next he was cleaning pasta sauce off a four-year-old’s medal like it was the most important job he had ever been given.
Eddie knew medals.
He knew what people thought they meant. Knew what they didn’t. Knew the weird, ugly space between the story people told and the thing that had actually happened.
But Theo relaxed the second Buck handed it back to him, clean and shining enough under the dining room light. His fingers closed around it again, protective and relieved.
And maybe, sometimes, it didn’t have to be more complicated than that.
Sometimes a medal meant brave because a little kid needed it to.
Theo inspected the medal from every angle. “Okay.”
Buck let out a breath. “Okay?”
Theo nodded gravely. “You fixed it.”
“I did.”
“You’re good at being a Buck.”
Christopher snorted.
Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then looked helplessly at Eddie.
Eddie smiled before he could stop himself.
“What?” Buck asked.
“Nothing.”
“That’s not a nothing face.”
“I just didn’t know ‘being a Buck’ was a measurable skill.”
“It is,” Christopher said. “It mostly involves talking too much and making pancakes weird.”
“My pancakes are excellent,” Buck said.
“You put bananas in them.”
“That’s normal.”
“And chocolate chips.”
“That’s fun.”
“And sprinkles.”
Buck paused. “That was one time.”
Theo looked deeply impressed. “Can we have pancakes for dinner tomorrow?”
“No,” Buck said.
“Yes,” Eddie said at the exact same time.
Buck kicked him lightly under the table.
Eddie looked at him. “Did you just kick me?”
“No.”
Christopher stared between them with the exhausted expression of a teenager who had been forced to witness adult nonsense without compensation. “You are both embarrassing.”
Theo looked between them, smiling bigger and bigger.
Then he leaned toward Christopher and whispered, “They’re silly.”
Christopher took a bite of garlic bread. “You have no idea.”
Things were going fine until Christopher, because he was Eddie’s son and therefore capable of choosing violence in very specific ways, said, “You should ask my dad about his medal.”
Eddie froze.
Buck’s eyes flicked to Christopher first.
Then to Eddie.
“Chris,” Eddie said, keeping his voice mild.
“What?” Christopher asked, too innocent by half. “Theo likes medals.”
Theo went completely still.
It was impressive, honestly. Eddie had not seen him stop moving once since they arrived. Even seated, Theo had been wiggling, swinging his legs, adjusting his medal, poking pasta onto his fork one tube at a time like he was doing surgery.
Now he looked like someone had revealed adults had been hiding an entire category of medals from him on purpose.
“You have a medal?” Theo asked.
Eddie swallowed. “I do.”
Theo’s eyes got huge.
“A real medal?”
“Yes.”
Theo’s gaze dropped to Eddie’s chest, apparently expecting it to appear there through force of will. “Where is it?”
“At home.”
Theo stared.
Eddie waited.
Theo turned slowly to Buck, betrayal spreading across his face. “He left his medal at home?”
Buck pressed his lips together.
Eddie could see the laugh fighting for its life.
“He doesn’t wear it every day,” Buck said carefully.
Theo looked back at Eddie like Eddie had just admitted to pouring milk before cereal. “Why?”
Eddie opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because it’s complicated felt useless.
Because sometimes people make medals out of the worst days of your life felt worse.
Because grown-ups get strange about the things that hurt them would probably get him kicked under the table again, and deservedly.
“It’s special,” Eddie said finally. “So I keep it somewhere safe.”
Theo narrowed his eyes. “Like where?”
“In a box.”
“A medal box?”
“Not exactly.”
“A treasure box?”
Buck made a strangled noise.
Eddie thought about it. “Kind of.”
Theo pointed at him. “You have treasure.”
“Apparently.”
“What kind of medal?”
Christopher, clearly having the best night of his life, said, “A Silver Star.”
Theo dropped his fork.
It clattered loudly against the plate.
Buck reached out automatically. “Buddy—”
Theo ignored him.
His entire body had gone rigid with awe.
“A star?” he whispered.
Eddie nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“A silver one?”
“Yes.”
Theo turned to Buck, whispering louder. “Buck.”
“I know.”
“Buck.”
“Yeah.”
“He has a star.”
Buck’s expression shifted before he could stop it. Pride first. Then something warmer underneath, something Eddie did not have the emotional bandwidth to inspect too closely.
“I know,” Buck said softly.
Then, because Buck had apparently decided Eddie didn’t deserve to survive dinner, he added, “Eddie’s kind of a big deal.”
Eddie looked at him.
Buck’s ears went pink again, but he didn’t look away.
Theo stood up on his chair.
Buck’s dad voice snapped into place so fast it gave Eddie whiplash. “Bottom on seat.”
Theo sat, though only technically. “Did you go to space?”
Eddie blinked. “No.”
“Then how did you get a star?”
“It’s not that kind of star.”
Theo frowned. “Is it pointy?”
“A little.”
“Can it cut you?”
“No.”
“Can I touch it?”
“Not right now.”
“Because it’s in your treasure box.”
“Yes.”
“At your house.”
“Yes.”
Theo leaned back, devastated by logistics.
Christopher said, “He got it in the Army.”
Theo’s eyes somehow got wider, which Eddie wouldn’t have thought possible without medical intervention.
“You were in the Army?”
“I was.”
“With helmets?”
“Yes.”
“And boots?”
“Yes.”
“And big trucks?”
“Sometimes.”
Theo lowered his voice. “Did you fight bad guys?”
Buck went still.
His fork stopped halfway to his plate. His eyes flicked to Eddie, checking.
Eddie gave him the smallest shake of his head. He was okay.
Eddie looked at Theo’s earnest little face. The medal still clutched in his fist. Sauce at the corner of his mouth. A kid trying to understand bravery with the tools he had.
“Sometimes,” Eddie said.
Theo studied him. “Were you scared?”
The table went quiet.
Christopher looked down at his plate.
Buck’s hand, resting near his fork, curled slightly.
Eddie took a breath.
“Yeah,” he said. “Sometimes I was scared.”
Theo nodded as if this made perfect sense. “But you did it anyway?”
“Yeah.”
Theo looked down at his medal, then back up at Eddie.
“That’s brave.”
Eddie had to look down for a second.
It shouldn’t have got to him like that. Theo was four. He had sauce on his cheek and one sock slipping off his heel. But he’d said it so plainly, like being scared didn’t ruin anything.
“Yeah,” Eddie said, his voice a little rough. “I guess it is.”
Buck’s eyes were on him.
Eddie could feel them.
That was another problem with Buck. His attention had weight. Warmth. A way of making Eddie feel seen and unarmored at the same time, which was rude as hell over pasta.
Then Theo ruined the moment, thank God, by asking, “Is your medal better than mine?”
Christopher wheezed.
Buck slapped a hand over his mouth.
Eddie stared at Theo.
Theo stared back, deadly serious.
“No,” Eddie said.
Buck’s hand dropped. “Good answer.”
Theo narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
“Because mine has a circle.”
“I saw that.”
“And a ribbon.”
“Very nice ribbon.”
“And it means I’m brave.”
“Then it’s an important medal.”
Theo considered him for a long moment, apparently weighing Eddie’s integrity, Eddie’s military service, and Eddie’s suspiciously poor medal-wearing habits.
Finally, he nodded once. “Okay.”
Eddie inclined his head. “Okay.”
Theo picked up his fork again. “But I need to see your star.”
“Maybe next time.”
Theo’s head snapped up. “Next time when?”
Buck pointed gently at his plate. “Eat three more bites and then continue the interrogation.”
Theo gasped. “I’m not inter— interro—”
“Interrogating,” Christopher supplied.
“Yeah. I’m not doing that. I’m asking important questions.”
“You asked if his medal could cut him,” Christopher said.
“That was important.”
Buck lost it then, laughing into his hand, shoulders shaking.
Eddie tried not to watch.
Failed immediately.
Buck laughing at his own table, Theo beside him and Christopher across from him, shouldn’t have hit him like that. Eddie had been in Buck’s kitchen a hundred times. Buck had been in his. Half their lives were already tangled up in each other’s houses.
But this felt different.
Maybe because Theo was there. Maybe because Christopher looked so comfortable. Maybe because Buck looked happy in a way Eddie wanted to keep staring at.
Eddie didn’t know.
He just knew he wanted more of it.
After dinner, they moved to the living room.
Theo brought over a small pile of objects for comparison: his medal, a plastic dinosaur, one shiny bottle cap, and a sticker sheet Buck said had come from the pediatrician and somehow become currency.
Eddie sat on the rug because Theo ordered him to.
Christopher took the armchair.
Buck cleaned up in the kitchen even though Eddie offered twice to help.
“You cooked,” Eddie called. “I can do dishes.”
“You are busy being cross-examined by a preschooler.”
Theo looked up. “What’s cross eggs?”
“Nothing,” Buck said quickly.
Eddie heard the water running. Dishes clinking. Buck humming under his breath like he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
Theo arranged his items in a line with enormous concentration.
“This is my medal.”
“Yes.”
“This is a dinosaur.”
“I see that.”
“This is shiny.”
“Very.”
“This is stickers.” Theo pointed at Eddie. “Where does your star go?”
Eddie looked helplessly at Christopher.
Christopher smiled and shrugged. “Good luck.”
Eddie turned back to Theo. “Probably near your medal.”
Theo gasped. “Same team?”
“Sure.”
Theo beamed.
It was sudden and bright enough that Eddie felt something in him unclench.
Same team.
He could work with that.
Buck came in a few minutes later carrying a dish towel and wearing an expression that suggested he had absolutely been listening to every word. “How’s the medal summit?”
Theo stood immediately. “Eddie’s star is on my team.”
Buck looked at Eddie.
Eddie shrugged. “Diplomatic solution.”
“Impressive.”
“I’ve negotiated with worse.”
Christopher said, “You mean Buck?”
Buck pointed the dish towel at him. “Wow. Betrayal from Christopher Diaz. That one hurts.”
Christopher smiled. “Good.”
Theo frowned. “Did Chris hurt you?”
Buck sank onto the couch, laughing. “Emotionally, buddy. I’ll survive.”
“You say weird things.”
“Yeah,” Christopher said. “He does.”
Theo climbed onto the couch beside Buck with the confidence of someone who had already claimed permanent residence there. He leaned heavily against Buck’s side, medal in one hand, dinosaur in the other.
Buck’s hand settled automatically over Theo’s curls, like he didn’t even have to think about where he belonged anymore.
Eddie looked away.
Not fast enough.
He still caught the curve of Buck’s smile, the quiet bend of his head toward Theo, the easy tenderness of it.
It made Eddie want things. Soft, ordinary things. Buck’s hand on his own. Buck smiling at him across a kitchen. Buck looking up when Eddie came home, like of course he had.
Theo lasted another twenty minutes before his energy crashed so completely it was almost concerning.
One second he was asking Eddie whether the Army had snacks.
The next, he was asleep against Buck’s leg, mouth open, medal still clutched in his fist.
Buck looked down at him, startled. “Oh.”
Christopher stretched. “He powered down.”
Eddie smiled up at Buck. “Like you used to after three beers.”
Buck whispered, scandalized, “In front of my child?”
“He’s asleep.”
“He absorbs things.”
“He asked me if my medal could cut me.”
“It's a valid concern.”
Getting Theo to bed involved more negotiation than Eddie expected, considering Theo remained asleep for most of it.
Buck insisted the dinosaur had to face the door because “he’s security,” and Eddie had to step into the hallway for three seconds to avoid laughing loudly enough to wake Theo.
Christopher claimed he was tired too, though Eddie suspected he mostly wanted to avoid whatever adult nonsense might happen once he was no longer around as a buffer.
He took the couch without asking, already pulling down the blanket Buck kept folded over the back. Buck tossed him a pillow like this was routine, because it was.
That left Buck and Eddie alone.
For a moment, they stood in the kitchen, listening to the quiet hum of the house.
Buck leaned his shoulder against the wall. “Well.”
Eddie looked at him. “Well.”
“I think you passed.”
“The congressional hearing?”
“The medal summit.”
“High honor.”
Buck smiled, but it was softer now. Tired around the edges. The kind of smile he only let Eddie see when he forgot to perform being fine.
“He really likes you,” Buck said.
“He threatened to audit my medal storage practices.”
“That means he liked you.”
Eddie nodded. “I like him too.”
Buck’s smile wavered.
Eddie caught it before Buck could cover it. The way his eyes dropped, then came back up. The way he looked almost embarrassed by how much it meant.
Eddie wanted to touch him so badly it irritated him.
His hand. His wrist. The soft, stupidly tempting place at the back of Buck’s neck. Anywhere, really. Just enough to make Buck stop looking like he had to earn the kindness Eddie was already giving him.
Buck nodded toward the back door. “Firepit?”
Eddie followed him out.
The night air was cool, the yard quiet after the noise of dinner and Theo’s endless questions. Buck moved around like he knew every inch of it, grabbing the lighter from beside the pit, crouching to fuss with the kindling when it didn’t catch the first time.
Eddie watched from one of the low chairs, Buck’s sleeves pushed up, firelight catching on his hands when the flame finally took.
It was such a small thing.
Buck lighting a fire. Buck glancing back to make sure Eddie had sat down. Buck smiling a little when he caught Eddie watching.
Eddie still had to look away.
Buck was just standing there in the yard, firelight on his hands, the house warm and messy behind him. Dishes drying by the sink. Christopher on the couch. Theo asleep down the hall with his medal and his dinosaur guard.
It should not have done anything to Eddie.
It did.
He sat down before Buck could notice.
Buck took the chair beside him, close enough that their knees almost touched.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
It was nice.
Eddie didn’t always trust quiet. Too often, quiet came with teeth. With things unsaid waiting to take a chunk out of him later.
But with Buck, quiet could be different.
It could just be quiet.
Buck stared into the fire. “I wasn’t trying to make it weird. With the Silver Star.”
Eddie glanced over. “You didn’t.”
“I know Chris brought it up, but I—” Buck rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I’ve brought it up before. Not tonight, but. You know.”
“I know?”
Buck shot him a look. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your eyebrows did.”
Eddie leaned back in his chair. “My eyebrows?”
“Judgmental. Very loud.”
“Sounds like you’re sensitive.”
“Sounds like I know your face.”
Eddie let himself smile. “You told Ravi I wouldn’t do anything illegal because I have a Silver Star.”
Buck groaned. “Oh my god.”
“I remember.”
“Of course you do.”
“You said it like the medal came with a built-in morality clause.”
“I panicked.”
“You were very confident.”
“I was defending your honor.”
Eddie turned his head.
Buck was still looking at the fire, but his cheeks had gone pink again. In the orange light, he looked younger and older at the same time. Tired. Beautiful. Completely unaware that Eddie’s heart was making poor choices.
“My honor?” Eddie asked quietly.
Buck shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah. I mean.”
He paused.
Then, softer, “It’s you.”
As if that explained anything.
As if it didn’t explain everything.
Eddie looked back at the fire.
The flames popped softly.
From inside the house, there was a faint creak. Then silence again.
“I don’t wear it,” Eddie said after a while, “because I don’t always know what to do with what it means.”
Buck looked at him then.
Eddie kept his eyes on the flames. Easier that way.
“People look at it and they see something simple. Brave, honorable, whatever.” He huffed a small laugh. “Theo’s four, so he gets a pass. Adults should know better.”
Buck didn’t interrupt.
Buck talked over everyone until it mattered, and then he listened like he was holding the words in both hands.
Eddie swallowed.
“But tonight was…”
“Different?” Buck asked.
Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”
Buck’s hand shifted on the armrest between them.
Eddie looked down before he could stop himself. Buck saw him do it.
Neither of them moved for a second.
Then Buck turned his hand over, palm up.
There, if Eddie wanted it.
Eddie should have made a joke. Should have knocked Buck’s knee with his own, or changed the subject, or said something dry enough to make the moment survivable.
Instead, he put his hand in Buck’s.
Buck’s hand was warm. His fingers closed around Eddie’s carefully at first, then a little tighter when Eddie didn’t pull away.
Eddie looked down at their hands and felt something in his chest give.
They sat like that, hands linked between their chairs, the firelight moving over Buck’s face.
“He was right, you know,” Buck said softly.
Eddie looked at him.
“Theo.” Buck’s thumb moved once over Eddie’s knuckles. “Doing it scared still counts.”
Eddie’s throat tightened.
“You raising him scared counts too,” Eddie said.
Buck’s eyes flicked down, then back up. “I’m not raising him scared.”
Eddie just looked at him.
Buck sighed. “Okay. I am raising him extremely scared.”
“Yeah.”
“But also…” Buck looked toward the house.
His house.
Theo’s dinosaur-guarded room.
Christopher sleeping down the hall like he had never doubted he was welcome.
“I don’t know,” Buck said. “It feels right.”
Eddie’s thumb moved over Buck’s knuckles before he could think better of it.
Buck looked down at their hands, his smile small and startled in the firelight.
Then he smiled.
Small. Wondering. Like he couldn’t quite believe Eddie was still there.
Eddie looked back at the fire, because there were only so many things he could survive in one night.
“Same team,” Buck said quietly.
Eddie laughed under his breath.
Theo’s solemn declaration. Buck’s warm hand. The fire between them and the house behind them, messy and loud and alive.
“Yeah,” Eddie said.
He let his thumb brush Buck’s once.
“Same team.”