once you find it (it can never be replaced)
Wrote this as a little late birthday present for @diazchristopher! I hope you like it Neethu! Happy belated birthday!
Summary: It’s not an earth shattering realization, there’s nothing dramatic about it. It’s as simple as it is inevitable (also read on AO3)
Buck realizes he’s in love with Eddie three days before Halloween. It’s not an earth shattering realization, there’s nothing dramatic about it. It’s as simple as it is inevitable. It happens on a Monday morning at the station. The coffee maker breaks on the first cup of the day, and nobody's happy about it. Chimney makes a run to the coffee shop to get them through, but he’s not back yet, and Eddie is glaring daggers at the broken machine, as if he can intimidate it into working again.
“Hey, Bobby, can we get a Hildy?” Albert asks.
Eddie whips around before Bobby can say anything. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no. It’s bad enough I have one of those hell machines spying on me at home.” He glances at Buck. “I refuse to let Hildy infiltrate the station.”
Bobby chuckles. “Calm down, Eddie. We couldn’t afford a smart coffee maker anyway.”
Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, and Buck can’t help the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips. “You’re ridiculous,” is what he says out loud. “God, I love you,” is what he says in his head. It doesn’t take him by surprise, doesn’t freak him out like maybe it should, given that he’s dating someone who isn’t Eddie. He’s always known his feelings for Eddie were more complicated than simple friendship. He hasn’t let himself dwell on it, has always had good reasons for ignoring the flutter in his chest when Eddie looks at him a certain way, or the warmth that cascades through his body when Eddie finds a reason to touch him (a hand on his shoulders as he passes by, an arm brushed against his, a knee pressed against his thigh in the truck). It was always there, a faint hum in the back of his mind.
Easy to ignore, until suddenly it’s not.
Buck breaks up with Taylor on a Tuesday in November, two weeks after the hum in his mind has graduated to an all encompassing buzzing under his skin, three days before their six month anniversary. It’s not dramatic, or even very painful, for either of them, and Buck knows he made the right decision. He likes Taylor, but he doesn’t love her, and as sad as she is to see him go, he knows that she doesn’t love him either.
He’s not sure why it takes him so long between the realization and the decision to break things off with Taylor. Maybe it’s because breaking up with Taylor means actually acknowledging that he’s in love with Eddie to someone other than himself. Not that he says it, but he knows it’s implied in the way he says, “I just don’t think this is what I want,” and the way she just nods, like she’s seen this coming. Which she probably has. Subtly has never been Buck’s strong suit.
He announces the breakup the next day at work because Chimney is asking when he’s free to babysit Jee-Yun next and mentions something about not wanting to get in the way of Buck’s relationship and Buck assures him that there’s no relationship to get in the way of. Chimney pats him on the shoulder sympathetically.
“I’m sorry, Buckaroo,” he says with a small smile.
“I’m okay,” Buck insists. “I was the one who broke it off.”
“Oh.” Chimney sounds dumbfounded, which Buck supposes is fair, given how often Buck talks about being lonely. “Why?”
Because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, Eddie choses that moment to step out from the otherside of the ladder truck. “Why what?”
“Buck broke up with Taylor,” Chimney says, like he’s not stepping in the middle of an emotional minefield--after all, none of the mines will blow him up.
Eddie’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. But Buck knows him well enough to see it.
“We wanted different things,” Buck says, shrugging. The bell rings before Eddie or Chimney can ask more questions. Buck sighs in relief.
By the end of shift, everyone at the station knows about the breakup, because Chimney knows, and Chimney loves gossip, and Buck told Chimney he could tell people. It saves him the trouble of having to acknowledge it, lets the word spread without him having to have the same conversation a dozen times. Instead he focuses on his work, pretending not to notice the sympathetic looks his coworkers keep flashing him. Poor Buck, they’re all probably thinking, alone again.
Well. Almost all of them. Buck has no idea what Eddie is thinking, but he’s sure it’s not the same sad sympathy everyone else is exuding because Eddie never even liked Taylor. He’s probably relieved he doesn’t have to make awkward small talk with her again, if anything. Eddie watches Buck like their other coworkers, but the look in his eyes isn’t sympathy. Buck pretends not to notice Eddie’s looks, too.
A week after Buck’s breakup with Taylor, he’s leaning against Eddie’s kitchen counter with a beer in his hand, and Eddie’s at the sink washing dishes (only fair, since Buck cooked dinner). Christopher is in his room working on homework, and the house is quiet, which only serves to emphasize the tension that’s been building between the two men for the last week, like a rubber band slowly pulled taut, just barely held in place between two fingers.
“So,” Eddie starts, in a tone of forced casualness. “How have you been doing since your breakup?”
Buck takes a swig of his beer. “Fine. It was my choice, and I don’t regret it.”
“Your choice,” Eddie echoes, placing the last dish on the drying rack, before turning to face Buck. “Y’know, you never really told me why.”
Buck gulps. “Eddie…”
“Why did you break up with Taylor?” Eddie asks, dark eyes boring into Buck. The rubber band stretches even further. “And I don’t want the lie you told Chimney.”
Buck sets down his beer, and crosses his arms. “Why did you break up with Ana?”
“It wasn’t what I wanted,” Eddie doesn’t hesitate. “She wasn’t who I wanted.”
Buck’s arms fall back to his sides. “Who-what do you want, then?” He tries to swallow the word “who” in the back of his throat, but it comes out anyway. His palms are sweating and his heart is racing and oh, God, what if he’s wrong about this?
Eddie just takes a step forward, expression unreadable. ��Don’t you know, Evan?” His voice doesn’t shake, but it’s quiet, almost a whisper. Like he’s forcing the words out before he loses his ability to speak completely.
It’s not even really an answer, not entirely. There’s just enough plausible deniability that Eddie could walk it back. Maybe. If they weren’t six inches apart. If Eddie wasn’t looking at him like every hope and dream he’s ever had rely on what Buck does next. If the last time Eddie used Buck’s first name wasn’t in a hospital room. If Buck didn’t know Eddie so completely.
The rubber band snaps.
Buck practically lunges forward into Eddie’s space, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. He kisses Eddie hard, pouring every ounce of pent up emotion from the last three and a half years into it, and Eddie kisses him back with equal intensity. Eddie’s hands on his waist, callused and warm, and Buck pushes Eddie up against the edge of the sink so their bodies are pressed together as firmly as their lips are. Buck’s fingers find their way from Eddie’s neck into his hair, and he tugs gently, earning a moan from the other man. Seizing the opportunity, Buck slides his tongue along Eddie’s lower lip, which falls open further to let Buck in. Time moves slow as honey around them, as they melt into each other. Nothing else in the world seems to matter except getting more and more of Eddie.
Buck’s giddy with the feeling. He’s kissing Eddie. Eddie is kissing him back. Eddie wants him. He has to pull back, unable to stop himself from letting out a small giggle.
“What?” Eddie asks, breathless. He sure is a sight, hair mussed and lips swollen. He looks wanton and a wave of smugness bubbles up in Buck’s chest because he did that.
“Nothing, I’m just happy,” Buck says softly, leaning down to rest his forehead against Eddie's. “I thought you might--but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”
Eddie’s brown eyes soften with fondness. “Me too.”
Buck swallows. “Should we talk about this?”
“Probably," Eddie says, and then continues in that casual, matter of fact tone of his, "I’m in love with you."
“Oh, well, good,” Buck ducks his head and smiles bashfully. “I’m in love with you, too.”
Eddie sucks a breath through his teeth, moving back just so he can move in again at the right angle for a kiss. “Well, then. Are we done talking?”
Buck pretends to think about it for a moment. “Hm, yeah. I think we’re on the same page.”
He barely finishes his sentence before Eddie’s lips are on his again, and this time he’s the one pushed up against the counter, the cold tile digging into his back. He knows they have more to talk about--how to tell Christopher, how (and when) they want to tell the team, what this means for their working relationship--but that’s all secondary. They’ll figure it out, together. Because he’s Buck and Eddie is Eddie, and they’ve both been all in since the day they pulled a live grenade out of a man’s thigh together.
Right now, all he needs is for Eddie to never stop kissing him like this.
(Eddie never does.)
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