Archive of Our Own ^beta

Buck hadn’t originally set out to stage a coup. Honest. But there comes a time in every person’s life where they are forced to confront the critically important question of: ‘What am I willing to let slide?’ And the answer was, as it turns out...

Not this.

It had started on a Monday like any other; the calls had been few and far between, and the 118 had resigned themselves to finding new, inventive ways to entertain themselves. Last hour, it’d been paper football. The one before that: origami. They even tried racing paper airplanes off the loft for a little bit, recycling old cardstock left to gather dust in Bobby’s office. 

Making it to lunch was a small mercy, giving them all something to do other than think about how bored they were. And for Eddie, that had also meant checking his email. The only hint Buck had gotten to something being wrong was the subtle pinch of his brow as he scrolled through his phone. That, and the man’s tired, drawn-out sigh, as whatever he read made him visibly deflate.

Pausing mid-bite, everyone turned to look at him with varying looks of confusion and curiosity. When that offered no answers—Eddie, too consumed with whatever was in his inbox to notice— all eyes turned to the next best option.

It took a moment for Buck to realize that that’d meant him. And as every one of his co-workers looked at him for an answer to a question he himself had been asking, all he could offer was a light shrug, much to their collective disappointment.

Because... listen. This new, tentative thing between Buck and Eddie had been a bit of an unintentional secret over the last month and a half, neither choosing to make a formal announcement. Other than Chris, the two had more or less agreed to keep it to themselves for the time being. Until they figured out how exactly two people were supposed to go from best friends to... this.

“Eddie,” Bobby was the first to finally venture, “...everything ok?”

“Hm?” Eddie hummed in acknowledgment as he finally glanced up from his phone, surprised to find all eyes on him, “Oh. Yeah, it’s fine.”

“The face you’re pulling doesn’t look ‘fine.’”

“Constipated might be a better word for it,” Chim sniped from across the table, “and oddly forlorn.”

Scoffing, Eddie shook his head, “I got an email from Chris’ PTA. Nothing major, but I guess the attendance for their last meeting wasn’t so great. I got a pretty passive aggressive email about it just now, that’s all.”

Eyes narrowing, Hen was the one to ask, “How passive aggressive?”

Yeah. Something nasty curling in the base of his stomach, Buck was wondering something similar.

Exhaling another forlorn breath, Eddie narrated the email so everyone could come to their own conclusions:

Dear parents,

It has come to my attention that the attendance during our last meeting has dropped to the lowest it has ever been in all my six years as PTA president. These events are SO important to the success of our children, and while our PTA understands that a lot of our parents are understandably invested in career growth and other pursuits, we need your support and commitment in attending these events. Now more than ever. Our utmost priority has and will always be the development of our children, and we hope that throughout this school year, the majority of our parents will come to agree and eagerly participate.

If you are unable to attend future meetings, we implore you to find someone in your life to step-up for your child if you yourself cannot.

Cathy Yarnevich
PTA President

“Six years?” Hen repeated back with an incredulous scoff, “You’d think someone whose kid’s a super-super senior would learn how to pipe down a little.”

“Actually,” Eddie corrected, “she’s always just had at least one kid in high school. Her current one is Chris’ age, and she’s got two more after him. One in middle school and one in elementary. All lined up. One right after the other.”

Giving a low, impressed whistle, Chim asked, “Did she have them for this?”

“PTA president? Well, she’s not exactly getting paid for it.”

“And does she know that?”

“Dunno,” Eddie trailed like he was really considering it. Whatever conclusion he came to, he didn’t share it with the rest. Instead, he offered, “Everyone I’ve talked to says she was worse last year. So… small victory, I guess.”

And all of this had been news to Buck—he hadn’t even known the other had decided to join the PTA. Which was weird, right? Even before they’d started... whatever it is they are currently doing... information like this would’ve absolutely been something that had come up by now. But here he was. Finding out when the rest of the 118 had.

A strange feeling curled in the pit of his stomach, and it wasn’t a good one. Frowning, Buck kept it to himself. “What made you want to join the PTA?” he asked instead, trying to look nonchalant. Buck tried to remember if maybe he had told him and had simply forgotten.

But as Eddie looked at him with something resembling shame, he had the answer in pretty good faith that that was not the case, “I was planning on getting involved last year, but then me and Chris... you know.”

Yeah. Kim. Marisol. Texas... Buck knew.

Awkwardly clearing his throat as he ignored the memories as they cropped up, Eddie continued, “They have a meeting like this once a month—sometimes more if they’re doing any kind of fundraising. I went to their informational meeting two months back, but couldn’t make the one last month because of work. So I guess you could say that this email might’ve been a little targeted.”

“You’re a single parent and a first responder, and you’re still trying to be involved in stuff like this. What part of that doesn’t she get?” Buck scowled, because you’d think that’d count for something.

Based on the way Eddie massaged his temples, fending off his burgeoning headache with nothing but caffeine and willpower... that was decidedly not the case. “She thinks that because she was able to quit her job to be more involved in her kid’s schooling, everyone else can too. Unfortunately, not everyone has a husband that runs the third largest lawn care service in LA.”

“Oh?” Hen asked. Intrigued.

“Yep. She managed to bring it up twice the one time I had to talk to her. You’d think it was her out there pushing the mower.”

“Stolen valor,” Ravi chimed in with a grim shake of his head. “Like those military spouses that make service workers cry when they don’t give them their partner’s discount.”

“Sort of,” Eddie said with a wry smile as he pocketed his phone, “but it doesn’t really matter now.” And there was something in his tone that hadn’t been there before. Something tired, and defeated, but trying not to be.

“Why?” Buck asked, brow furrowed in equal parts suspicion and concern.

Eddie shrugged, “Thinking I might go ahead and call it quits. The next meeting is this Thursday, and I’ve already picked up a shift for Harrison then. And, honestly, getting an email like this every time I have to miss is gonna get real tired real fast.”

“Well, at least you tried,” Chim said, giving the other an encouraging pat on the back, “not everyone can say that. I know me and Maddie probably won’t.”

And Buck couldn’t tell you why, but suddenly, he was recoiling at the thought, “Really? Why?”

Chim just gestured at Eddie like it should’ve been obvious, “Too many horror stories from the parents that’ve been there and done it. Case and point.”

“Yeah, but that’s just one bad experience,” Buck explained. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. He just knew that it did. Turning to Hen for backup, he asked, “Didn’t you and Karen get involved in Denny’s PTA a couple years back? I haven’t heard any of these ‘horror stories’ from you two.”

“No, Karen got involved,” Hen corrected, lips pressed flat as if she had just stepped in gum, “and it lasted for all of three months. She said it was too cliquey, and that everyone in charge was—and I quote: ‘Using the small amount of power they achieved in adulthood to relive what it felt like before they peaked in high school.’”

Humming his agreement, Chim nodded along. “Harsh, but fair. As usual.”

“But is it though?” Buck pressed, incapable of dropping it, “I mean, it’s just a bunch of people who care about their kids right? Nothing wrong with that.”

Raising a curious brow, Hen shook her head, “No one’s saying they don’t, Buck. The issue is typically with the way they go about that ‘caring.’ Like no one could possibly care about their own kid as much as they do theirs.”

To Buck, that just sounded like most parents—minus his own, maybe, but he didn’t need to get into that right now. Instead, he pivoted: “Ravi, what about you?”

The young man blinked a few times as he processed the question. “I... don’t have kids? You know this.”

“Your parents,” Buck clarified with a huff, “did they ever go to any of your PTA meetings?”

“Oh,” Ravi said, mulling it over carefully before replying,  “I was too in and out of hospitals during my elementary and middle school years, but I think my mom tried going to one in high school once I’d been in remission for a while.”

“And how’d that go?”

“Pretty much what Karen said. Almost verbatim. She was swearing a lot more though.”

“So was Karen,” Hen admitted, smiling, “I just gave you the abridged version.”

Unwilling to admit defeat, however, Buck looked to his next possible assist: “Bobby.”

“Buck,” the man said in return. He faced away from the group, more concerned with fixing himself a fresh cup of coffee.

“What about you?”

“I tagged along with Michael one year for Harry when Athena couldn’t make it.”

“And?”

“Nothing to write home about. Other than them thinking I was Michael’s new husband instead of Athena’s.”

“See?” Buck gestured with the bravado of someone who’d managed to snatch a decisive victory of some kind, “People can have a positive experience with their kid’s PTA.”

“It was neutral, if anything.”

“Yeah—yeah,” he said, not even sparing a glance as he waved him off, “My point is: not every experience with a PTA is a bad one.”

Peering out the corner of his eye, he caught Bobby wincing.

“What?” Buck asked, already dreading the answer.

“You’d have to ask Athena about that,” Bobby replied, plain and simple, “there’s a reason she stopped going.”

As everyone else turned to look at him with smug vindication, Buck felt his mind’s hackles instinctually raise.

“See?” Chim said. “Case and many, many points.”

“We might just have to agree to disagree on this one, Buck,” Hen offered, considerably less smug than the rest.

“Yeah. Ok. Whatever,” Buck muttered as he pushed out of his seat, heading downstairs to go sulk.

Distantly, he noted the sound of a chair scraping against the floor and a gruff, ‘I got him,’ before the sound of footsteps quickly followed from behind. It wasn’t until he’d made it to the locker room for some peace and quiet that those footfalls finally caught up with him.

“Alright. Out with it,” Eddie sighed, closing the door behind him semi-abruptly and crossing his arms, “what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Buck grumbled petulantly, fiddling with the deodorant in his locker to appear busy.

Too bad Eddie wasn’t fooled by this act. Not even a little bit. “Hey,” he said, far more gently this time, walking over and leaning directly into his line of vision, “talk to me.”

And Buck should’ve. He was allowed to. He was being asked to. But somehow, that still didn’t feel like enough of a reason to burden the other with his own shit. So, with a stiff shake of his head, Buck floundered. “It’s dumb.”

Eddie wasn’t so easily convinced, brown eyes filled with fond amusement as he spoke, “Tell me anyways.”

All that affection and genuine concern... Buck hadn’t stood a chance.

“My parents never got involved in my things,” he breathed, the admissions tumbling out on top of each other, “parent teacher conferences, curriculum nights, football games... it didn’t matter. They didn’t go to a single one. Not unless they had to. Like, legally.”

Frowning, Eddie got a familiar pinch in his brow. The kind he always seemed to get whenever the other mentioned his parents, no matter how passing or inconsequential. Because although it wasn’t something Buck could honestly say he was still angry about, Eddie would always  be angry enough about it for the both of them.

“Yeah, well, your parents are deadbeats,” Eddie spat, anger born more out of protectiveness than any actual malice. “I don’t think it’s comparable.”

“No, I just mean—” Buck breathed, pausing for a moment to find the right words to explain himself. When he had a rough approximation, he switched gears, “That lady was way out of line with that email, but... she still cares about her kid, you know? They all do. And, yeah, maybe they show it in that weird, passive aggressive way of theirs, but everyone’s in it for the same reasons.”

Wincing at the thought, Eddie didn’t seem all too sure about that. “Buck,” he sighed, touching his fingertips together, “you’ve met my parents. I can handle a little passive aggression, I just can’t make the meetings. That’s all.”

And deep down, Buck knew it was as good a reason as any. Because Eddie was a single parent who worked odd shifts, and he couldn’t be everywhere all at once. But still... he couldn’t seem to quiet one of his thoughts tugging at him from the recesses of his mind. The incessant, nagging one suggesting what felt like a deceptively easy fix:

“What if I went?”

Blinking back—shocked—Eddie could only stare. Eventually managing an incredulous shake of his head, he huffed in disbelief, “What?”

“What I said,” Buck said, feigning nonchalance, “I don’t mind going to the meeting Thursday if you can’t make it. I mean, that Cathy lady basically gave you permission in that email she sent, right? About getting someone else to go if you can’t.”

“Yeah,” Eddie muttered, staring ruefully at his feet as he recited, “someone in your life to step-up for your child if you yourself cannot.”

“Oh. Hey...” Buck trailed, recognizing the misstep the instant he’d made it, “it’s not like that. I’m just saying that, y’know, maybe I can go just this once. Just to get them off your back about it.”

Despite the explanation, the apprehensive pinch creasing Eddie’s brow stood firm. “And this is something you... want to do? Really?” he asked after a long moment, unable to fully wrap his head around it. No matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he tried.

Offering nothing but a coy shrug in response, Buck decided to let that speak for itself. But as the silence lingered, some old, familiar doubts began to creep in. The ones telling him that he was misreading the situation and overstepping. But before he could start to spiral, clumsily stammering out some quick apology he hoped sufficed...

Eddie’s face split into a wide grin, and the fear was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, stepping into Buck’s personal space, “you know that, right?”

“I mean...” Buck drawled, resting his back against the wall of lockers with a playful smirk, “I wouldn’t mind hearing it a couple more times.”

“Mm,” Eddie hummed in appreciation, unmoving from where he was practically crowding the other into his locker, “maybe later.”

Sighing in contentment, Buck was grateful to have just one more thing to look forward to at the end of their shift.

Taking a step back, Eddie chuckled at the way Buck subconsciously leaned forward to chase his warmth. Making a move to exit the locker room, he gestured for the other to follow.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Eddie said, tone low for only Buck to hear as they ascended the stairs back to the loft, “I promise.”

“This isn’t transactional, Eddie. It’s fine,” Buck whispered back.

Relaxing from the reassurance, Eddie gave his side a grateful but discrete squeeze before rejoining the others around the table. Tension bleeding from his shoulders, it’s the most peaceful he’d looked since getting that email.

It was that sight alone that made it impossible for Buck to worry about what he might’ve just gotten himself into. Because he was helping. Because Eddie was content. Because it was just a PTA meeting.

How bad could it be? 

You’d think at a certain point, Buck would learn to stop tempting fate. But alas...

At first, it’d been fine. He’d gotten dinner ready for Chris, shot off a quick text to Eddie, and threw on one of his nicer shirts. But despite those efforts—and despite getting himself to the school on time with five minutes to spare—none of it seemed adequate. Oh, and that wasn’t according to Buck, mind you. He was perfectly content with the amount of effort he’d invested in this optional meeting he was attending on one of his days off. Really, there was only one person who seemed to think otherwise.

Finding the designated classroom proved easy enough, but Buck hadn’t known what to expect. Because sometimes, you really only understand the concept of a person. You hear all these stories and second-hand accounts, that you build them up to be this thing in your head. Something abstract and uninformed. A thing they are simply not. But this time? This time...

“Uh, hello?” Buck spoke as soon as he first stepped inside. Once he’d caught the attention of a small group nearby, he smiled, “Hi. I just wanted to make sure I’m in the right room.”

So far, the attendees of this month’s meeting seemed to be mostly comprised of mothers. And while there was likely some valuable social commentary to be had about that, he’d have to consider it later. Because as every occupant of the room turned to face him at once, the range of expressions that greeted him were sending all sorts of mixed signals.

“This is for the PTA,” one of the women said, and Buck thought she could’ve probably stood to use a kinder tone.

Smile tightening, he didn’t falter, “Yep, that’s what I’m here for. It’s nice to meet all of you.”

If nothing else, he’d managed to endear himself to at least some of them with that ‘boyish charm’ Chim was always ragging on him about. And sure, maybe he’d noticed a handful of appreciating up-and-downs too, but he had always been just fine ignoring those.

“Ah,” said the same woman as before, making at least some attempt at amicability, “I must’ve missed you at our informational meeting. What’d you say your name was?”

“Buck,” he introduced with a polite nod, crossing the gap to shake her hand, “and I wasn’t at that meeting. This is my first one.”

“Oh,” she said, raising a curious brow as she retracted her hand. Voice taking a strange lilt, she shot him a toothy grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Unfortunately, we don’t typically allow parents to join this late in the year—”

They were two months in.

“—not even to mention the fact that we have membership dues—"

Which Eddie had paid.

“—and we’re actually planning some of our upcoming fundraisers tonight. So, unfortunately, it’d be really hard to get new parents up to speed on everything with what little time we have. I hope you understand.”

And it all felt rather arbitrary, which was perhaps not helped by the subtly condescending tone she’d taken with him. Like he was some random toddler that had just asked her where babies came from.

In spite of it all, Buck dug down deep and remained pleasant. “Yeah, I’m actually Christopher Diaz’s, uh...” he paused, considering it carefully but drawing a blank on how to title that particular relationship. Eventually though, he settled on, “I’m here for Chris. His dad sent me.”

Now, that seemed to get everyone’s attention. “Eddie?” the woman balked.

“Yep.”

“Eddie sent you?”

“Uh-huh.” Buck smiled.

Brow pinched in skepticism and—quite frankly—an awkward amount of disdain, she trailed, “And you’re his...”

“Person he sent because he had to work?” he offered, because... look. If Eddie and him hadn’t bothered defining what they were to some of the most important people in their lives, Buck certainly wasn’t going to do it now for a group of strangers. Especially when he was pretty sure half of them had already decided they didn’t like him.

The woman nodded along, smile waning and tone no less patronizing. “Typically when one of our parent’s has someone attend for them, it’s a close family member. Or maybe a spouse?”

And Buck wasn’t sure what pissed him off more: the assumption he wasn’t either of those things, or that it would in some way be disqualifying that he wasn’t. “Sorry—was that outlined in the email he got?” he asked, words now undeniably strained. “The one telling him that he needed to find someone to ‘step-up’ for his kid or whatever?”

The edge to his tone must’ve finally clued her into exactly how he felt about that. About her. “I guess not,” she said after a while, mouth terse and tight. Then, turning to address the rest of the room, “Well. Everyone better find a seat then. We’ll be starting soon.”

With those parting words, she didn’t spare him another glance before reconvening with her group of other parents. Flocking around her like remora to a shark, they all followed her deeper into the classroom, leaving Buck unattended and to his own devices. And say what you want about that one lady, at least she’d technically said ‘hi’ to him. None of the others seemed willing to afford him the same.

Finding a seat somewhere near the back, he resigned himself to the monotony of waiting for someone to address the room. It wasn’t until around ten minutes later that he finally got what he wanted:

“Ok, everybody, find your seats,” the woman from before announced from the front, waiting until everyone in the room heeded the command before continuing, “Alright! I’d like to officially welcome everyone to our third meeting for the year. Turnout is already looking a lot better than last week, give yourselves a round of applause!”

And as the parents around him clapped their smug approval, Buck felt his stomach drop because...

Oh. Oh no.

He was granted a brief reprieve from his dawning horror as the door behind him swung open, a woman stumbling inside wearing athletic shorts, an old t-shirt stained with paint, carrying a Louis Vuitton handbag. Quite the ensemble.  Quickly shuffling over to find her seat, she sat down in the one  next to him.

Despite her attempts at being as inconspicuous as possible, the woman at the front of the room had no problem calling attention to it. In fact, she seemed to delight in it. “Johanna,” she said with a smile that was starting to feel like a weapon, “so nice of you to join us.”

“Some of us work for a living, Cathy,” Johanna immediately snapped back, confirming the worst of Buck’s fears.

“I suppose some of us have to,” she replied, sickly sweet. And Buck felt like he was slowly going fucking crazy when he was the only person in the room to visibly bristle at that.

But the woman didn’t react. If anything, her fake smile just grew all the more sharper. Because she was Cathy Yarnevich. PTA president.

And she had already decided that she didn’t like him.

“You’re quiet today,” Hen observed, shooting the other a curious stare as she fixed herself a cup of coffee.

Staring into his own mug, not even bothering to look up, Buck asked, “Am I?”

“Yeah,” Chim concurred from his spot at the table, eyes narrowed in suspicion, “it’s weird.”

As the sole inhabitants of the common area, the two of them were left to poke and prod as they pleased; no Bobby or Eddie around to step in for an assist.

Which left Buck sort of in an awkward position. Because while neither him nor Eddie had told the others about their arrangement for last night, they weren’t exactly hiding it. So... “I went to that PTA meeting. The one Eddie couldn’t make.”

Eyes widening, the two shared a brief look of bewilderment they thought he wouldn’t catch. And if that meant they found it odd he was attending PTA meetings for his best friend, they didn’t say. Instead:

“And...?” Hen ventured.

Grimacing, Buck tried not to sound too petulant as he sighed, “You guys were right.”

“We usually are.”

“I don’t get it!” he said, throwing his hands up in a huff, “It’s like as soon as I walked in there, half the room decided they didn’t like me while the others were...”

“Doing things to you with their eyes?” Hen finished, visibly disgusted. “Yeah, I think I remember Eddie telling me something similar after his first meeting.”

Which—again—was news to Buck. But this time, he was making the executive decision to be grateful for it. Mostly due to the fact he’d have physically imploded if the man had one day decided to walk up to him and say, ‘Oh, yeah, by the way: a handful of horny parents in my child’s PTA have taken a whole lot of interest in me. Just thought you should know.’ But, also, because he was fairly certain he didn’t plan on telling Eddie either.

That hadn’t always been the plan. Originally, when he’d first stumbled out of the double doors of the school in a daze, he’d fully intended on giving Eddie the full debrief. But when the time came for it he just...

When the other had finally gotten home from his shift hours later, eyes tired but relief tangible as he crawled into bed next to him, he’d murmured his thanks into the back of the other’s neck before promptly passing out. And it was around that time that Buck knew with absolute certainty he wasn’t going to tell him. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Because Eddie had trusted him, and Buck would be damned to come this far only to foist off that emotional burden he’d fought to hold just moments after crossing the metaphorical finish line. Just because a couple parents he’d never have to see again couldn’t force themselves to like him. Just because it had hurt his feelings—just a little bit.

“You know,” Chim began, immediately breaking Buck from those thoughts with his smug tone and an easy grin, “I was starting to wonder when you’d find out that being young, hot, and ripped will only get you so far in life. Only took you, what, thirty-four years?”

“Jealousy is a disease, Howard.”

“What I think he might be getting at...” Hen interrupted, ever the mediator, “Do you think that maybe this is the first time you’ve walked into a new situation where the people there don’t immediately like you? And this bothers you because you’re sort of...”

“A people pleaser,” Chim finished, punctuated by a long sip of his drink. 

“Yeah,” Buck muttered, too tired to take actual offense, “maybe.”

And perhaps that was more concerning than the alternative. Exchanging worried glances, Hen and Chim didn’t say a word, just stared at him. Then back at each other. 

“Why do you care whether or not these people like you?” Hen asked after a heavy pause, always finding a way to cut through the bullshit.

Deep down, Buck knew that question wasn’t meant to be as loaded as it was. Yet here they were. “I wouldn’t say I ‘care’ exactly, it’s just...” he winced, because if he didn’t believe what he was saying, he wasn’t sure how he expected the others to, “why don’t they, you know? I haven’t done anything. I just walked in there, introduced myself, and that was already enough for them to hate me.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” Hen frowned.

“It’s a strong feeling too.”

And it was probably around this time where Chim had his revelation. The one telling him that maybe this was a hurt that ran a little deeper than a couple of catty PTA parents getting a few good digs in. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you,” he said, walking around the table to clasp Buck on the back, “in fact, I’d be more concerned if they did like you.”

“Think of it like politics,” Hen said with an encouraging smile, “the more someone wants a job in it, the less you should trust them.”

It wasn’t nearly as helpful as it should have been. Sagging in his seat, sinking further in on himself, the only thing his friends’ concern seemed to accomplish was making him feel worse.

That concern never wavered as Chim offered, “Maybe bring Eddie next time. He’s better at arguing than you are.”

Ok. Now that was something worth getting offended over: “He’s not better at arguing than me.”

“He’s not,” Hen agreed. A surprising defense, and one that was only slightly undercut by the immediate follow-up of, “He just goes for the jugular as soon as he starts feeling a little cornered.”

“He’s... gotten better about that.”

“So, like Chim said: next time, bring Eddie. Depending on how many bridges you’re willing to burn.”

And Buck couldn’t help but scoff. Both at the idea itself and the presumption that went along with it, “Bold of you to assume there’s going to be a next time.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Hen remained unconvinced.

Chim didn’t fare much better. “Right,” he snorted in a tone practically designed to make Buck prickle, “of course.”

Firmly siding with her partner, Hen pried further, “So you’re really saying that if Eddie walks up those stairs right now, and he asks for help with the next meeting he can’t make or preparing for a bake sale or whatever the hell... you’ll have no problem turning him down. Is that right?”

“Yeah. Of course. Obviously.”

“Mhm...”

“Hey, look up for a second?” Chim said, waiting patiently for Buck to oblige. When the other did, brow furrowed in bewildered confusion, he simpered, “Look me in the eyes when you lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” Buck exclaimed, starting to take genuine offense. Because who the hell did they take him for? But—more importantly—what the hell did they know? Because this didn’t feel like the amused, gentle teasing of friends who just did that sort of thing. No, it was starting to feel like the calculated prodding of people who knew something. Only issue was: he couldn’t figure out what. Or even why.

But before Buck could give himself a migraine over when and where and what he’d managed to let slip, the sound of someone ascending the stairs to the loft caught his undivided attention:

“Hey, Eddie,” Chim cheerfully called, and there was something in his tone that Buck didn’t like. Not one bit. “Who’s got you staring at your phone like that?”

Mouth twisted into a grimace he didn’t bother to hide, the man briefly looked up from his device to sigh, “Cathy.”

And that was all Buck needed to hear to have him sitting up a little straighter. “What, did she want to clarify ‘spouses and family only’ for the next meeting?” he asked, spine rigid and lips pressed into a thin line. The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

“You are family,” Eddie replied, unfazed if not a little exasperated. If he’d noticed the way Buck flushed, he had decided to breeze right by it, “And no, actually. It’s the fact that I let myself get pressured into helping out at the school fair. They got me to sign up for it during the first meeting, and I’d completely forgotten about it until I got my booth assignment just now.”

“Oh?” Hen said, feigning interest for her own amusement, “Do tell.”

“Dunk tank. I got assigned the dunk tank.”

There was a moment of stunned silence.

“Damn,” Hen said, bursting out laughing, “who’d you manage to piss off?”

“That’s a good question,” Eddie simpered, crossing his arms over his chest at both Hen and Chim’s bouts of laughter, delighting at his dismay. “Isn’t that right, Buck?”

Sinking into his seat under the man’s pointed glare, Buck idly wondered who was actually at fault here: him for pissing off Cathy for reasons unknown, or Eddie for simply giving off the vibe of someone who’d look really, really good in a soaked through t-shirt. It was a 50/50 chance for either. Truly.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because it didn’t change anything. Because as Eddie kept staring at him, expression expectant and waiting... Buck never stood a chance. The words were spilling out of him before he could stop himself, “Hey, you’re not even gonna be the one getting dunked here! Relax.”

Brow knitted in confusion, Eddie looked at the others for an explanation. When he didn’t get it—Hen and Chim just as confused as he was—he turned back to Buck, slowly venturing, “Do you not understand the point of a dunk tank?”

Ignoring the urge to roll his eyes, the man replied, “What I’m saying is that you don’t have to be the one that goes inside of it. I can.” And if he had heard Hen snort with an amusement she didn’t bother hiding... well, he had no problem ignoring that too.

Never having been adept at hiding his surprise, this time had been no different. “You know you don’t have to, right?” Eddie asked. Unsure.

Buck offered little more than a light shrug in response, “Maybe I want to.”

Lie. Lie from hell. But the thought of the other being leered after by parents and school faculty alike had wormed its way into his skull and had gotten stuck there. And suddenly... the prospects of pruning skin and wet boardshorts climbing up his ass-crack didn’t seem all that bad.

If Eddie had his doubts, he didn’t voice them. Rather, he gave him The Look™. The one that always seemed to have Buck a little unsteady on his feet—like Eddie worshipped the ground he walked upon. Like the sun rises and sets on him, and him alone.

Buck didn’t know what to do with that, and he didn’t think he ever would. Instead, he focused on clearing his throat, hoping the silence preceding hadn’t been too awkward... “That alright with you?”

Blinking back, as if awakening from a spell, “Yeah,” Eddie said with a breathless, almost disbelieving huff, “yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” Then, remembering that they 1) were both at work, and 2) had an audience, the moment promptly ended. Giving a quick, succinct nod that couldn’t be interpreted as anything other than a promise to talk later, Eddie turned on his heel and went back to whence he came.

And while the swiftness of his exit was clearly overcompensating for something, if the others hadn’t noticed, Buck didn’t really care. Not right then at least. Because as Eddie shuffled down the stairs and out of earshot, he was presented with the perfect opportunity to bury his head in his hands, letting out a deeply held groan.

“Wow,” Chim bemused, expression bewildered and eyes filled with something akin to awe, “he didn’t even have to ask this time. That’s a new low even for you.”

“More like an all too familiar low,” Hen said with a stunned shake of her head. Disappointed but not surprised.

With another loud groan, Buck let his head slip from his hands, hitting his forehead against the table with a resounding THUD.

 “So,” Buck began, feet kicking up water as he shifted in his seat, “between the vendors and all the booths they ended up having to rent, how much money do you think these things actually raise for prom?”

“I think the bake sales end up raking in a little more,” Eddie replied, generously fanning himself with a stray leaflet he’d managed to snag. Taking a gander around the fairgrounds (i.e. the field they’d set up in behind the school), his brow knitted together as he wondered aloud, “Never really understood the point of this much fundraising for school dances. I mean, my prom was just a gymnasium with some streamers and a DJ.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Buck said, recalling his own prom night with a wistful sigh, “and besides: everyone knows the real fun happens after prom.”

“The prom here is for juniors and seniors only—please don’t make me start worrying about that shit a year early,” Eddie grimaced, and Buck couldn’t help but wonder how much of his own experience he was using as reference.

Laughing, he goaded, “Aw, come on, Eddie. What’s a couple more gray hairs to you—"

“Oh no,” the other announced, “I’ve fallen.” After a brief pause, he leaned over to punch the target. Dead center on perfectly steady feet.

The plastic seat dropped from beneath Buck, plunging him into the lukewarm hose water filling the tank. Breaching the surface with a glare he couldn’t be bothered to put any heat behind, Buck scoffed as he reset his seat, climbing out of the water.

“So,” Eddie drawled, finding his own twisted form of amusement watching the other clamber back onto his flimsy, plastic board, “what kind of ‘real fun’ were you having on your prom night?”

“Got drunk, climbed the water tower, peed off the side. You know. The usual.”

Face scrunching up in disbelief, “Really?” Eddie pressed, “That’s pretty tame for you. Assuming the stories I’ve been told are actually true.”

To Buck, it felt like a challenge, “Oh, yeah? And what wild things were you getting up to on your prom night, hm?”

“Conceiving my child.”

“...yeah. Ok. Fine. You win.”

With a fit of light, airy laughter exchanged between the two, they settled into a familiar dynamic as they got to work: Eddie collecting money and handing out the weighted beanbags while Buck sat in his seat, trying to be vaguely irritating enough to make people want to spend their tickets on being the one to finally dunk him.

“I think you’re too likable for this,” Eddie sighed, watching as the latest gaggle of teenagers departed from their booth, only willing to part with one to two tickets each for the chance at mildly inconveniencing him.

“Shit, you’re right,” Buck said, lips downturned into a frown. “Let’s switch.”

Eddie stared, eyes narrowing.

Buck stared back, the perfect picture of innocence. Then:

SPLOOSH.

Buck sputtered in brief indignation, already pulling himself up and out of the water tank. Again.

Chuckling, Eddie watched him with the same amount of gleeful spite, “Damn, guess I need shoes with better traction. I just keep slipping.”

“I know where you live, Diaz.”

“Pretty sure I can take you, Buckley.”

Cocking an eyebrow with a tilt of his head, Buck couldn’t stop the smug grin from stretching across his face if he tried. Because yeah I bet you can, you—

SPLOOSH.

“Quit it!” Buck yelled as he breached the surface with a gasp, splashing water at the other as he threw his hands out. All it really accomplished was getting the other’s socks wet.

“You were raised Episcopalian, right? I was baptizing you,” Eddie simpered. Though, the fondness in his expression was undeniable. “You needed it.”

“Yeah, that’s not what you were saying last ni—”

Eddie raised his hand toward the target again.

“Wait—wait—wait—ok, I’m sorry!” Buck yelled, hands held up in surrender as he begged, “Please stop waterboarding me.”

“That’s not what waterboarding is.”

“There’s water. I am on a board. It’s close enough.”

Furrowing his brow as he paused to consider, Eddie eventually decided against dunking the other, letting his hand fall to his side. For now.

Huffing a sigh of relief, Buck was willing to take the win where he could. However, it was a victory that was short-lived because soon enough, hair prickling on the back of his neck, he felt a pair of eyes boring into him from a distance.

“Ever get the feeling someone’s trying to set you on fire with their mind?” Buck asked to no one in particular. But seeing as Eddie was the only one standing around...

“Nope. Can’t say that I have,” the other chuckled, tone taking a sarcastic lilt, “in fact, I’m pretty sure no one has ever been mad at me. Ever. ”

Those yolks Buck had helped scrape off the other’s front door when Marisol had decided to egg his house last year might beg to differ. But he digresses.

When Buck failed to snipe back with something sardonic of his own, any lingering amusement of Eddie’s was immediately replaced with confusion and concern, “Why, what’s up?”

“Not sure...” he trailed, scanning the perimeter for anyone or anything out of the ordinary. But unless he’d somehow managed to piss off an especially disgruntled teenager, no one met him the type of venom he’d been expecting.

“Hey...” Eddie eventually said, breaking Buck from his thoughts and recapturing his undivided attention, “do you know that lady?”

“What lady?”

“The one walking over right now,” he replied, nodding toward something in the distance. “There. That one right there.”

Following the direction of the gesture, Buck didn’t see who he was talking about until she was practically in front of him. And... God—he really needed to work on his spatial awareness.

“Oh,” Buck blinked, surprised but trying not to look too taken aback, “it’s you!”

The woman from the PTA meeting—Johanna, he thinks—smiled back at him. “It’s me,” she said, maintaining a respectful distance upon her approach, “I wasn't sure I’d be seeing you again. Either of you, really.”

This time, it was Eddie’s turn to look confused, “Sorry, have we met?”

And as she turned to the other, Buck wasn’t quite sure what to make of the elated grin the woman met him with:

“Not officially, but I was there for that first meaning. The one where you walked in ten minutes late and then knocked over that tray of muffins Brianna—our treasurer—apparently spent hours slaving over,” she shrugged, the sharpness in her smile never dulling. Placing a reverent hand on her own chest as she extended the other, “Big fan of your work, by the way. I heard from some of the other parents that she had to go cry in the bathroom about it.”

Horrified, Eddie regarded her hand oddly, never making a move to reach out and shake it.

Unfazed, the woman retracted the limb. If she was at all put off by the obvious snub, she didn’t let it show.

Buck, however, ignored it all. Still stuck on one small hang-up, he whirled on his partner, incredulous as he exclaimed, “Wait, sorry—and you made me think it was my fault we got the dunk tank?”

At the very least, Eddie had enough forethought to look a little ashamed as he sputtered, “Well, how the hell do you think I got roped into this thing in the first place? Our kid’s a sophomore, he couldn’t go to the prom this thing is raising money for even if he wanted to!”

Buck froze. And as the silence stretched between the two for far longer than what was feasibly comfortable, he made no effort to fill it because our—our kid—ours—

Eddie noticed the slip-up a fraction too late to stop the other’s spiral. If anything, he might’ve made it worse; eyes wide and cheeks red as he stammered, “I just meant like how you and I... I mean, you’ve basically... you know what I mean.”

Words tapering off with an awkward cough, the man resigned himself to looking anywhere other than Buck. Because this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of a stranger. It might not have even been a conversation he wanted to have at all.

“Anyways,” Johanna drawled, deliberately ignoring the tension in favor of some more good ole fashioned shit-stirring, “I came over here to give you two a heads up that Cathy’s about ready to give herself a conniption. You dunk him one more time, and she might just find a way to wire transfer everything she thinks you owe directly from your bank account.”

Meeting the woman with nothing but distrust and skepticism, Eddie asked, “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” she replied, gesturing vaguely at something a couple booths down. “See?”

Sure enough, there she was. Managing the balloon popping dart game with someone Buck assumed to be her husband, Cathy stared back at him. Daggers practically protruding from her eyes, a lesser man might’ve cowered. And although Buck was decidedly not that man, he still succeeded in swallowing his pride enough to give the woman a polite wave.

Cathy did not wave back.

Go figure.

“Hey,” Eddie said, opening the latch to the dunk tank and refocusing Buck’s attention on him and him alone, “let’s switch.”

But despite that sounding like a perfectly reasonable idea, his boardshorts already chafing uncomfortably against the skin of his thighs, Buck hesitated, “You sure? That’s like the whole reason you wanted me to tag along.”

With the way the other recoiled, you’d have thought he’d been struck. “No,” Eddie began, calm and careful, eyes never leaving the other, “the reason I wanted you to tag along is because I like spending time with you.”

And it’s not like Buck hadn’t known that, you know? Eddie was his best friend, and he always would be. And sure, maybe the two of them have had to grapple with and redefine what exactly that meant for them now, but it didn’t change a thing. It didn’t change them. Not with time, or distance, or ever-changing circumstances.

But despite knowing, it didn’t stop some familiar doubts from creeping in. Nor did it stop the nearly debilitating fear that always seemed to accompany it. Because even though he knew with numbing certainty that his feelings would never change, he had no control over whether or not Eddie’s did.

And that was the scary part. That no matter how much he believed in something—no matter how he wanted to be right—it didn’t make it true. It didn’t make it mutual. It never had before, so why was this time suddenly different?

‘Because Eddie’s different,’ his mind echoed back to him over and over and over again. Because when Eddie had first told him he loved him, Buck had believed him. Because Eddie loved him, and he loved him back, and that was enough.

It had to be.

“Yeah,” Buck managed. Eventually. “I know.”

The muscle in Eddie’s neck strained, almost like he had had to physically contain himself from pressing the other further; the silent exchange fraught with tension.

 The woman made no move to leave, and based on her expression, there seemed to be a substantial part of her that was reveling in it.

“Johanna,” another voice suddenly called, entering the conversation much to both men’s chagrin. “Is that you?”

Sighing, Buck wordlessly climbed out of the dunk tank, gesturing Eddie forward in his stead. Both feet planted firmly on solid ground, he warily eyed the approaching parents, some of which he recognized as fellow PTA members. Two or three paces away, he mustered up the strength to plaster on a fake smile, already feeling it start to strain.

“Brianna,” the woman smiled. Cheerful tone not quite matching her expression, it was hard not to see it for the façade it was; carefully cultivated but no less transparent. “What brings you to this neck of the woods? I thought the twins were freshmen—didn’t think you’d want to waste your weekend raising money for a dance they can’t even go to.”

Huh. Maybe she knocked over a tray of muffins too.

However, it was in that exact moment with that exact thought that everything had suddenly just clicked, because... Brianna. The Brianna. And if the name hadn’t clued him in, the unabashed, venomous glare she’d aimed Eddie’s way certainly did. The one that had the man grimacing, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he shirked slightly in on himself in embarrassment and shame.

Eyes narrowing and brow pinching, Buck shot her one of his own. Because he didn’t care if Eddie had walked into that first meeting, shat in his hands, and clapped; she didn’t get to look at him like that. Not now, not ever, and definitely not over some fucking muffins that were probably dry anyways—

Ok. Holy shit. He needed to calm down.

Johanna made a sound from the back of her throat. It was a pitying, condescending kind of thing, and it wasn’t until Buck met her calculating stare that he’d even realized it’d been directed at him. But the woman hadn’t lingered long, quickly turning her attention back to her previous target.

“Is there something you need?” she asked Brianna, giving the distinct impression she liked the woman as much as the other liked her back. And hint: it wasn’t much.

Brianna’s expression wasn’t any kinder. Pleasant, sure, but never kind. “Just coming over to officially introduce myself. I don’t think we got the chance to talk last month,” she said, smile razor thin as she looked at Buck, ignoring Eddie entirely.

Finding his voice, it was like the man had finally made the formal decision to not take that particular snub lying down. “Which is crazy,” Eddie began, the lack of inflection in his voice extremely telling, “because from what I heard, he didn’t even show up late like I did. And despite everything, you and I still managed to find some time to talk after that first meeting.”

“Well, typically,” Brianna said, tone somehow managing to take an even sharper edge, “we like to let the president of our chapter handle greeting the newbies before the rest of us chip in to help show them the ropes. You know, give them some advice. Help them feel like they belong.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you all did your very best to let the newcomer know exactly where he belongs,” Eddie scoffed, no longer willing to entertain the vague passive-aggression and air of superiority. And Brianna...

Well. Brianna looked about ten seconds away from slapping down a twenty and asking how many goes at the dunk tank that got her.

Thankfully, however, it hadn’t come to that: “Aw, Bri,” Johanna practically cooed, “did you get new shoes? They’re cute!”

And with the way the other woman’s expression seemed to light up, that might’ve been the nicest thing Johanna ever said to her. Going off of nothing more than Buck’s extremely limited interactions with the woman in question... it very well could’ve been.

“You think?” Brianna asked, twisting her ankle side to side to show them off. They were a pair of rubber clogs colored eggshell white, complete with a little kitten heel each. “I can send you the link so you can get yourself a pair.”

And when Johanna had smiled at her, it looked genuine. Gleeful even. Like maybe he’d misjudged her. Like maybe, just maybe—

“Oh, I don’t do rubber shoes,” she replied, clueing the man in on where that elation was actually coming from. And as if that hadn’t been bad enough: “But they work for you!”

The look she sent Buck’s made it feel like she thought she was doing the men a favor. In a weird ‘enemy-of-my-enemy’ sort of way. Even still, Buck couldn’t find it in himself to appreciate it because...

Oh my God, they’re evil. They’re all evil.

Face red, Brianna managed a tight, stilted nod before practically stomping off in the opposite direction. And as the group she’d arrived followed close in tow, every single one of them giving them a dirty look upon departure, both men got the distinct impression that if they didn’t hate them before, they certainly did now.

“Well,” Johanna announced with a clap of her hands, delighting in the destruction she had effortlessly laid in her wake, “it was nice talking to the two of you. See you around?”

Waving goodbye and without waiting for a reply, the woman turned and left, leaving both men reeling.

“Did you see where Chris got off to?” Eddie asked, sounding as shell shocked as Buck had felt, “We might be able to grab him and run.”

Taking a moment to consider, Buck didn’t think the idea sounded half bad save for the fact that he could still feel Cathy’s death glare from a mile away. They’d never get away with it. Not if they wanted to continue showing their faces at this school. And with the way this day had been going...

Buck was inclined to consider it a win-win.

But instead, with a frown and forlorn sigh, he simply muttered, “I actually kind of liked her shoes.”

And whatever Eddie had been expecting, it probably wasn’t that. “Yeah,” he snorted, giving a fond shake of his head, “you would.”

...

...

...

SPLOOSH.

“Goddamnit, Buck!”

 The realization that Buck would never have to attend another PTA meeting ever again hadn’t fully set in until about a week later on a random Wednesday, about an hour before Eddie would have to leave the house to make it to the school on time. Not until Buck was kissing him goodbye, leaving to go drop Chris off at a friend’s house before swinging by Maddie’s for a visit.  

Settling against his sister’s couch cushion with a contented sigh, he hadn’t been aware of the weight he’d been carrying until it was mercifully lifted off his shoulders.

“So,” his sister drawled, trying and failing to look inconspicuous as she continued, “Chim mentioned you going to one of Chris’ PTA meetings about a month ago. Wanna tell me what that’s about?”

“Just helping out,” he replied, expertly dodging her attempts to pry. And sure, maybe a part of him felt bad about blatantly lying to his sister like that, but as of right then, it paled in comparison to the betrayal he’d feel on Eddie’s behalf. The betrayal of disclosing that information to the wrong person at the wrong time.

And they should really talk about it—Buck knew they should talk about it—but he had always kind of assumed that if it was a conversation the other wanted to have... he’d just have to wait until Eddie brought it up himself.

Maybe he shouldn’t have.

The look Maddie was currently giving him only seemed to reaffirm those doubts. With a sympathetic, pitying smile, she wasn’t ready to let the issue lie, “The school fair too? Chimney told me about the dunk tank.”

Groaning, Buck ran a frustrated hand through his hair because dammit, Chim— “Eddie can be very persuasive.”

Maddie remained unfortunately unconvinced. Settling onto the couch cushion next to her brother, she chuckled, “Not that persuasive.”

Scoffing, Buck was willing to let her have this round. Partly because he was too worn out to argue. Mostly because she wasn’t even wrong. Because a lot of people didn’t seem to have any problem telling Eddie Diaz ‘no.’

And a lot of people were idiots.

“Hey...” his sister trailed, brown eyes flooded with enough concern to have him sitting up a little straighter, “what’s been going on with you? I feel like you’ve been kind of spaced out as of late. Did something happen?”

“No,” Buck lied, mildly worried about how effortless it’d been, “nothing’s happened.”

But just because something was effortless, that didn’t make it any more plausible. “Right,” Maddie said. Her words were gentle and kind—as they often were—despite making it abundantly clear she didn’t buy whatever he was trying to sell. “Of course.”

Goddammit.

Grimacing, Buck struggled to piece together both a coherent and a complete sentence at the same time, “I guess I’m just... confused?”

Yeah. Yeah, that was probably the best word for it.

“Ok,” she nodded, grateful to be given something she could work with here, “what are you confused about?”

“I don’t know. Life?” It shouldn’t have sounded as petulant as it did. And yet: “I just feel like so much has changed, but also not enough? And it’s sort of driving me insane. Just a little bit.”

And although taken aback, Maddie—poor, sweet, supportive Maddie—still managed to take it all in stride, “Well... it’s normal to feel a little stagnant at times—”

“And I’m not disappointed because I think it would’ve been worse if things had changed, but also... why didn’t they? Like, we’re still friends, and I really thought that at some point the kissing and the sex might complicate things, but it hasn’t. So now, I have no clue when that other shoe’s supposed to drop—and it will drop because it always does—but I just don’t know when that’s gonna happen. And I’m not sure if you could tell, but I’m sort of freaking out about it!”

Holding out a hand that practically begged him to stop, his sister stammered, “Wait. I’m sorry, could we go back to the—”

But much like a dam that had been carrying a little too much for a little too long... Buck couldn’t stop himself from bursting. And he did so spectacularly:

“Which is crazy because this is literally never something I’ve had to worry about with him before. Like, Maddie, he gave me his fucking child if he dies, and we thought that was normal for best friends to do? What the fuck is wrong with him? What the fuck is wrong with me—”

“Evan,” Maddie had finally snapped, desperate to get him to stop and listen. Exhaling a deep breath as she gave them both a second to recollect themselves, her next words—although hesitant—were damning: “What do you mean ‘best friend’?”

And she might as well have open-palm slapped him across the face.

Jaw snapping shut with a quiet click, Buck had been caught. He had let too much slip, and he had been caught.

“Oh my God...” she breathed as the cogs began to turn. Eyes wide, she shot out of her seat so fast, you would’ve thought she’d given herself whiplash, “Oh my God.”

And Buck was right there with her, grasping for her hands as he pleaded, “You can’t tell anyone.”

Reeling back, eyes narrowed, Maddie took a brief moment to look as offended as possible at the notion she would before returning to the subject at hand, “I’m not my husband, obviously I can keep a secret—but oh my God! When? How?”

“A little over three months,” he sighed, figuring he owed her that much, “after the dinner party Bobby and Athena had at their new house.”

“Ok. Ok,” she nodded to herself a few times, letting it all sink in as she sat back down. “And the reason you haven’t told anyone until now is because...?”

“We told Chris,” Buck felt the need to defend. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something.

Leveling an unimpressed glare, Maddie disagreed.

Yeah. Ok. Fair. “I don’t know,” he said, and no matter how small the admission made him feel, it had been the truth, “it just happened.”

His sister was about as satisfied with that as you’d expect, “And was that your idea or his?”

“It wasn’t really anyone’s idea, it just—”

“Happened?” she interrupted, words taking an edge, “Yeah, you’ve mentioned.”

“It’s not like that,” he said, begging for an understanding he wasn’t sure he could even put into words. Still, he tried: “Eddie isn’t like that. He isn’t ashamed of me, he hasn’t sworn me to secrecy, this just isn’t something he and I have talked about yet. That’s all it is, I promise.”

The two fell into a terse, tense silence as his sister attempted to work out how much of that she actually believed.

“Ok,” she eventually said, “I believe you.”

Tension bleeding from his shoulders, Buck allowed relief to flood through him. Although, it was perhaps premature.

“But if everything you said before is how you’re feeling right now,” Maddie began, unwilling to let all of what he said go completely unchecked, “then why haven’t you talked to him about it?”

“Because it’s dumb and irrational,” because Buck was dumb and irrational, “and Eddie has enough on his plate to worry about as is. He doesn’t need anyone adding to it—especially me.”

“Such as...?”

“This PTA bullshit, for starters. Chim ever tell you about that email he got a while back?” Buck grumbled, a familiar anger seeping in. And the knowing, solemn nod his sister gave in response was absolutely not helping, “Who sends something like that? She had no right to make him feel that way—to make him feel like he isn’t a good father. Because he is—Maddie, he’s such a good dad. And it’s not like he doesn’t already get enough of this shit from his parents...”

Patient and waiting, Maddie let him air it all out. His fears, his doubts, and everything in between. What had happened at the school fair—our kid—and the conversation that hadn’t happened after. The fact that they had yet to use the word ‘boyfriend’ despite it very much being what they were at this point, and the fact that Buck wasn’t sure if he was allowed to mind. Because it had never felt like there was a word big enough to completely capture what they were to one another, and there probably never would be. And it probably wasn’t going to be the word ‘boyfriend.’

“I get that, and I hear you,” she interjected when he began to run out of steam, using the break in his flow to cut in, “but I think Eddie can care about more than one thing at a time. If you’d let him.”

And maybe one day, Buck would stop going to his sister for advice before he was ready to take it, “Yeah, but is there even a point?”

After, there was a long, stunned pause, his heartbeat getting faster and faster with each passing moment. Then:

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

“Maddie—”

“Of course there’s a point,” and she didn’t even sound angry. Just sad. “Why would you say that?”

But as Buck opened his mouth to speak, to his shock and horror he found that he simply could not. Like many things else in this little life of his, his words had failed him too.

Maddie’s expression only seemed to get that much sadder.

And that was it. That was exactly what Buck needed to force himself to choke out, “I think I’m explaining it wrong.”

“That’s ok,” she murmured, enduring as ever, “take your time.”

And he did. Maybe too much. “I guess I’m just wondering what’s left, you know?” he muttered, hating how weak it sounded. “We said we loved each other, we kissed, we did... other things.”

“Naturally.”

Huffing a subdued laugh, Buck did not elaborate on those ‘other things.’ God knows his sister has suffered enough in this lifetime. “So, what I’m thinking is: why should I get to ask for anything else when I feel like I’ve already asked for so much?”

Because Buck of all people knew the dangers of asking for too much.

‘Can I stay the night?’

‘Do you want to move in with me?’

‘Hey, so when do you think you’re planning on coming home from Europe?’

“Buck... what would you even be asking for here?” she asked, brow furrowed in concern, “Time? Money? A second sock-drawer for when you decide to sleep over?”

“I don’t know. Clarity, I guess?” Heart heavy with what he’d rather forget, what lay beneath it all bubbled to the surface, swelling in his chest and taking up what little room left he had to breathe. His fear. His regrets. That incessant prodding in the back of his mind that wondered about how if he hadn’t been good enough for them, how could he ever expect to be good enough for him? Sucking in a breath—rough and ragged—when he’d finally released it, the admission came tumbling out right alongside it, “Because while I know what he is to me, sometimes, I’m just not always sure...”

“What you are to him,” his sister said for him, finishing where he could not. “And you’re worried that if you ask him to define it, you’ll find out he’s looking for something you’re not. Something casual.”

Head hung in what felt like shame, Buck didn’t say a word. Because if he didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be real.

“Buck,” Maddie breathed, exasperated and no longer trying to hide it, “when has Eddie ever done ‘casual’?”

And she was right. Of course she was right. But even still, it didn’t stop those same doubts from cropping up time and time again. Shaking his head with an apprehensive, almost rueful smile, “There’s always a first for everything.”

The silence that followed was fraught with tension, as if designed for nothing else than to force Buck to sit with what he said and his reasons for having said it. Maddie’s expression hadn’t made it any easier. It was a mournful, wounded thing that would’ve had you thinking he’d said the cruelest thing imaginable. Then, without warning:

“So you think Eddie’s a bad person.”

And with the way it felt like his ribs were collapsing in on themselves, she might as well have shot him point blank in the chest. “Of course not,” he exclaimed, reeling back in horror, “what are you—”

But Maddie was already waving him off, “No, no, no, if you get to jump to wildly incorrect conclusions, I’d like a turn too—you understand that if everything you’re worried about is true, that’d make him kind of a bad person. Right?”

Physically sensing himself begin to short-circuit, Buck barely succeeded in stammering out a stilted, “I don’t... what are you... the hell?” Each sentence more jumbled and incomplete than the last.

“Let me put it this way,” Maddie said, as she were talking to one of her children. And given the way each of their childhoods had panned out... she sort of was, “You’ve been helping Eddie co-parent his child for the better part of seven years. You’ve picked Chris up from school when he couldn’t, taken care of his kid for each one of his extended hospital stays, and now you’re attending PTA meetings for him. Something that a lot of parents don’t even bother with themselves half the time. Did I get that right?”

Buck nodded, unsure of where she was going with this.

“Ok. So seeing as you’ve already been doing basically everything else a spouse would do, for Eddie to now suddenly decide to introduce the other things a spouse might do for him into this relationship... it’d be pretty awful of him to assume that you two were keeping things casual at this point, correct? Because he’d be reaping all the benefits of a romantic relationship without any of the obligations, never taking the time to communicate this to you.”

Swallowing, Buck nodded again.

“So, now that we’ve established that...” she said, calmly taking his hands in hers and placing them into her lap, “you understand that for your fears to be warranted, you’d have to believe some pretty awful things about Eddie too, right?”

Eyes wide, he snatched his hands back like he’d been burned, “It’s not like that.”

“I know.”

“I don’t... I don’t think those kinds of things about him. They’re not true.”

“I know.”

Buck had believed her, and deep, deep down he knew that she believed him. He did, it’s just... “It’s dumb,” he muttered, tired and weary and done.

“What was that?” and whether she was asking to have the sentiment solidified or simply for her own clarification, it didn’t matter. The result was the same:

“It’s dumb,” he repeated, this time with a little more force. “It’s dumb, and stupid, and irrational, and I can’t help it. Because there’s always going to be this little part of me that thinks there’s no way he’s into me as much as I’m into him; that there’s no way I’m allowed to be this happy for this long.”

Face crumbling upon each new admission, Maddie took each word to heart like it’d been directed at her. Internalizing and agonizing over every single detail, knowingly or unknowingly shared.

But Buck didn’t stop. He didn’t so much as pause: “And as soon as Eddie realizes that too, he’s gone. It’s over, and he’s gone, and there’s nothing I can do about it. And you know what? I wouldn’t even blame him! Like if he suddenly woke up one day and decided that he hated me—that I was subhuman scum, and he never wanted to see me again—I’d understand. I’d hate it, and it would kill me, but I’d get it.”

He didn’t know how he was supposed to fix that. He didn’t know how he was supposed to fix himself. And he wasn’t afforded the opportunity to agonize over it for long.

Reaching out for him with shaking palms, Maddie took him by the shoulders. And when she spoke, she did so firmly and deliberately, “I know this might not be what you want to hear right now, because it wasn’t what I had wanted to hear, but you’re allowed to believe that good things will happen to you. And you’re allowed to be right about it.”

And that might’ve been it. That might’ve been what finally broke him. Cracked him right down the center, fracturing him around the edges. “But what if I’m not?” he asked, “Maddie, what if I ruin it?”

Eyes damp, she was already shaking her head, shooting the notion down with vehement impunity, “Why are you so sure that you will?”

Deep within him, something stirred. Something small, and vulnerable, and far younger than he was. Voice breaking, it whispered, “It’s all I ever do. It might be all I’m good for.”

Because it’s not that he thought Eddie was incapable of loving him. It’s because Buck did not think he was someone capable of being loved.

The two siblings stared at each other for a good long while, and neither made a move to fill the silence that threatened to suffocate. Neither really wanted to. It wasn’t until Buck watched his sister blink back tears—for his sake, not hers—that he felt compelled to try:

“Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“You’re about to.”

Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, it felt like an admission. “I just wish you wouldn’t talk about yourself like that,” Maddie exhaled with a shuddering breath. “Everyone who loves you would hate to hear you talk about yourself like that. And there are so many people, Buck, I promise.”

And Buck knew that. Every time Hen and Chim had called him over to join a conversation. Every article and website Ravi had sent him because he thought it’d be something he’d find interesting. Every pat on the back from Bobby followed by a quick but heartfelt ‘Good job’ because the older man knew that—sometimes—he needed to hear that more than he needed to breathe. Buck knew that, but sometimes...

Sometimes.

Sometimes, there was this incessant vibrating in his pocket, and any previous train of thought had come to an abrupt, screeching halt. With a sigh, Buck grabbed his phone and checked the caller ID.

‘Eddie 👨🏻‍🚒 ’

“Eddie?” Buck immediately answered, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat, “What’s up—”

“There’s been an accident.”

Which was a hell of a way to start a phone call. Buck must’ve briefly blacked out, for the next time he remembered upon regaining consciousness, he was standing at his sister’s front door, turning the knob with one hand and gripping his phone like a vice in the other. Voice ragged, he gritted out, “Tell me where you are.”

“Wait. Let me explain,” Eddie immediately assuaged, “I was not actually in the accident. No one else you know either, I was behind a car that rear-ended another. That’s all.”

Craning his neck back to stare at the ceiling, Buck closed his eyes and breathed. In through his nose, and out from his mouth. Because while Buck was not particularly religious, sometimes, he thought Eddie could make even Jesus swear. Hyper-aware of his sister’s frightened stare from across the room, he sighed, “Can you lead with that next time? I just scared the shit out of Maddie.”

“Do I need to leave?” his sister whispered, already making a move for the backdoor to give the two some privacy.

“It’s your house,” he whispered back, covering the phone speaker.

“I can do a lap around the cul-de-sac, I don’t mind!”

Shaking his head, Buck waved her off.

“Yeah. Shit—sorry,” Eddie replied, guilt practically radiating through the phone screen, “I was just calling because I’m waiting for police to show up to give a witness statement, and... uh...”

“Eddie?”

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to that PTA meeting. So, I was wondering—”

No.

“—if maybe you could—”

No.

“—head over to the school and fill in for me?”

No!

“Yeah,” Buck said weakly, forcing a smile even though the other quite literally had no way of seeing it. “Yeah, of course. I’d love to.”

There was a long, stunned pause. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Buck lied, “It’s just planning for the next bake sale, right? The one where you said that you ‘don’t care,’ and were just gonna ‘pick the easiest thing to bake and call it a night’?”

“Yep, that’s the one,” he huffed in quiet amusement before turning serious, “just a heads up though: Cathy micromanages the crap out of these things. If we get put down for some high-maintenance bullshit, we will be baking some high-maintenance bullshit.”

“Ok. So no macarons, eclairs, or anything else that sounds vaguely French. Got it.”

The other laughed and Buck relaxed, reminded of exactly what had made it all worth it. But as the amusement tapered off, both men met with awkward silence from either end of the phone line, their minds turned to some more pressing concerns...

“They didn’t say anything to you that last meeting, did they?” Eddie asked, all lingering humor having been replaced by apprehension and suspicion, “Because if they said something to you, I can—”

“No,” Buck said only to wince immediately after. He shouted. He hadn’t meant to shout. “No. I mean, they were a little standoffish, sure, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“But you’d tell me if you couldn’t,” Eddie replied, somehow even more uncertain than before, “right?”

“You’ve met my mom. I can handle it.”

“That... isn’t as comforting as you seem to think it is.”

“Eddie. I’ve got this.”

“I know you do, it’s just... uh...”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Eddie managed after a stuttering pause. “It’s nothing.”

It was not convincing, but Buck was inclined to ignore it. After all, it’s not like Eddie was the only one keeping his most pressing concerns to himself. Also: they still had an audience. A fact he was swiftly reminded of as his sister waved him down, frantically pointing to her imaginary watch.

Clicking his phone, 5:50 pm blinked back at him. The meeting started in ten minutes. It was a twenty-five minute drive from Maddie’s house to the school.

Crap.

Locked in frantic search for his wallet and keys, Buck replied, “Ok—ok, sweet, um... I gotta go? If I wanna make it, I have to go. Like now. Right now.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course. Drive safe,” Eddie said, words stilted, awkward, and hesitant. The next two, however, were decidedly less so: “I love you.”

With those final three words, gone was the hesitation. They’d been spoken deliberately. Intentionally. Like that simple act alone had been as easy as drawing breath.

And it had made everything so much worse.

“I love you too,” Buck muttered back, vocal chords wounded and raw like a flesh wound. Because Eddie had meant it, and if Buck had doubted that for even a moment... “See you when I get home. Bye.”

Staring at the blank phone screen, Buck didn’t move. He tried. But he couldn’t, he just... couldn’t. And it wasn’t until he felt something being pressed into his hands that he thought he might be able to find the strength again to manage.

“Think about what I said,” Maddie said, helping him close his hand around his wallet and keys, “ok?”

Blinking once then twice before coming back to himself, he gave a careful nod. “I will,” he said, and only time would tell if he meant it. Looking at the time again, it was now 5:53 pm.

“Shit.”

In the end, Buck had been fifteen minutes late. Unlike Eddie, however, he managed to not knock over a tray of meticulously prepared muffins, thus earning the wrath and ire of the PTA’s treasurer. So... a win’s a win? He’d even made it to his seat without a snotty comment about being late.

Score.

The trouble came after the meeting when Cathy had personally approached him to gently remind him about her expectations of their chapter’s parents, even if he was not one himself. But because he was stepping in for one ‘incapable of finding it in himself to show up,’ she hoped that the man sent on his behalf could at least manage to make it on time.

And despite the red in his vision, Buck grinned and bore it. Barely. But he did. Oh! And since he had been late, there was only one thing left on that sign-up sheet:

Macarons. Him and Eddie were stuck making macarons. And still… they didn’t talk about it.

They really needed to talk about it.

Taking stock of the ingredients laid across the kitchen counter with an exaggerated sigh, Eddie tutted, “You know, if you had been willing to break at least three more traffic laws...”

Wordlessly, Buck twisted up a nearby dish towel before cracking it at the man like a whip.

“Hey!” he laughed, hands held up as he blocked the towel, “Christ, Buck—I’m already injured.”

“And I’ve been telling you for the last couple hours to sit down and let me handle this,” Buck muttered, letting the other snatch the towel from him before he could wind up for a second ‘attack,’ “but no, someone just insists on standing around the kitchen and getting in my way.”

Offended, he scoffed, “I am not in your—”

Gesturing at the fridge Eddie was standing directly in front of, “Consistently getting in my way.”

Sheepishly glancing back, the man nodded in weak concession before stepping out of the way. Slowly settling into a seat at the kitchen table, Buck didn’t miss the wince of pain on his descent. It was subtle, and hidden, but it was there.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asked, grabbing the heavy whipping cream from the top shelf of the fridge.

“I got elbowed in the stomach by someone panicking while dangling off a ledge,” Eddie said, “it’s not a big deal.”

“And it’s been taking you four to five business days every time you try to sit down,” Buck fired back, well aware of the hypocrisy given his own track record. But this was different. This was Eddie. “Are you really sure you don’t want to get checked out? I can drive—”

“You sound like Bobby.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“It’s not. But you still sound like him.”

“...shut up.”

“Now you’re swearing at me,” Eddie chuckled, “and in front of Chris? For shame.”

“He’s right,” Chris deadpanned from across the kitchen table, not even bothering to look up from his homework, “you should be ashamed.”

Eddie, insufferably smug, “See. I told you—”

“I was talking to you.”

Betrayed by his own flesh and blood, Eddie shook his head in disbelief and groaned, “It was an elbow. I’m fine!”

“That’s what they all say,” Chris remarked with a philosophical, almost wistful sigh, “and then they die.”

Brow pinched, Eddie glanced over to Buck who only met him with a single, confused shrug. “They?” Eddie asked, turning back to his son, “Who’s ‘they’?”

“I don’t know. People? Figure it out.”

“So two votes for a trip to the ER, and one against...” Buck trailed, trying not to look too vindicated, “it’s not looking good for you.”

With a huff, Eddie rose from his seat far quicker than it took to sit down. And by the looks of it, it had hurt. “Alright, while you two are busy conspiring against me,” he announced, trying but failing to hide his pained grimace, “I’m gonna go use the bathroom. Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”

And as Eddie shuffled carefully down the hallway—as to not jostle his injury further—Buck got to work.

He measured his dry ingredients. He threw them in the food processor. He sifted them— twice —before mixing the dry with the wet, and meticulously whipped them by hand until the meringue peaked. After that, he was ready to start piping. But as Buck stared at the pastry bag he’d packed to the brim with batter, his eyes instinctually narrowed.

“Why are you looking at it like that?” Chris called, seizing the opportunity to be distracted from his homework. It was pre-calc. Buck and Eddie could not help him with pre-calc.

“Because the French hate us,” Buck muttered, attaching the rounded tip with a little more vigor than was likely necessary, “and they hate me specifically.”

“It’s a cool word though. Macarons. Big fan.”

And Buck laughed because... yeah. He supposed it was. “Wanna know another cool French word?” he said with an amused lilt, piping the batter onto the baking sheet in neat, parallel rows, “Coup d’état. Something I think your PTA is in dire need of right about now.”

Face scrunching as he paused to consider, Chris was quiet for a moment. Eventually, he shook his head and replied, “You’re saying that wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Coo-day- tah , not coo-de- tay .”

“Oh,” Buck trailed, stopping his piping to really think it over. “I think I like mine better.”

“I think I do too,” the boy said, cementing the sentiment with a resounding nod.

And as the kitchen succumbed to amicable silence, each party working on their own project, Buck finished transferring the batter in record timing. Once he’d loaded the baking sheets into the oven, he set a timer on his phone and took a seat at the table.

“It’s because of Collin’s mom, right?” Chris said as soon as Buck touched down on the seat, “She’s why you don’t like the PTA?”

“Collin?” Buck asked, forehead wrinkling in confusion. He didn’t know of a ‘Collin.’

Fortunately, the boy didn’t keep him waiting in suspense: “Yarnevich.”

And it took all of Buck’s willpower to not outwardly groan at the mere mention of that name. In fact, he was about this close to forbidding its mere utterance in their home altogether. “Yeah,” he sighed, “that’s the one.”

With a contemplative, acknowledging hum, “Checks out,” Chris replied, returning to his homework with no further comment. It’d been clear he intended to leave it there.

Buck, however, had not gotten the memo, “Why do you say that?”

Like flipping a switch, something in Chris’ expression flickered. Something miffed. “Because he’s a bench-warmer on the lacrosse team,” he grumbled with a particularly violent drag of his pencil, “and the mustache he’s been trying to grow for the last three weeks makes it look like he doesn’t know how to wash his face.”

“Ok,” Buck trailed, calm and careful. Like navigating a mine-field. “So I’m sensing a little animosity here. Which is fine! If that’s how you feel, it’s totally fine. But I guess I’d just like to know why?”

“He’s a dick,” Chris said. And if he hadn’t known the kid any better, Buck would assume the annoyance in his tone had been directed at him.

“Hey,” Buck warned. A gentle reprimand.

“What? You said I could curse in front of you once a month if dad wasn’t in the room.”

“Which you used up half a year’s allowance of when you dropped your laptop on your foot last week,” he reminded much to the other’s annoyance, and... yeah, that time it had absolutely been directed at him. “But I’ll let it slide if you tell me more about this kid at school that’s been bothering you.”

Face twisting into a grimace, Chris stared down at his workbook. Without looking up, he mumbled, “He’s not bothering me.”

Frowning, Buck was already cutting in, “Chris—”

“He’s not bothering me.”

And as the two sat in the dumbfounded silence following the admission, Chris returned to scribbling in the answers of his homework. The perfect picture of aloof disinterest. Or, it would be, if not for the upset pinch in his brow and the steady tremor in his hand.

Sighing, Buck reached out, placing his hand over Chris’ until the pencil froze. “Who’s he bothering?” he asked, hoping the other could find it in himself to at least tell him that much.

“A friend,” Chris eventually admitted, face downcast like he was the one in trouble, “he asked out a girl that Collin liked, and now he won’t leave him alone. And he’s mean. Him and all his friends, they’re just so mean. I get hit with a little bit of it, sure, but my friend gets the worst of it.”

And someone might as well have driven a steak knife through Buck’s heart over and over and over again. Because he had always assumed Chris had always had a pretty good time at school. Because Chris was nice, and funny, and popular, and smart—so, so smart. And he didn’t deserve some little shithead in his ear telling him otherwise. He didn’t deserve this, and neither did his friend.

Despite it all, Buck kept his cool. Enough of it to ask, “Have you told a teacher?”

“It’s just words,” Chris muttered with a rueful shake of his head, “they don’t do anything if it’s just words.”

To Buck... to Buck, it’d been bullshit. Because it was never ‘just’ words. “Give me their names,” he said before it had fully registered.

And Chris looked at him like he’d grown a second head, “Their names? What are you going to do—find them and break their arms?”

“Worse,” Buck replied, tone serious and face grim. “Parent teacher conference.”

Eyes widening, Chris shot it down immediately, “You can’t! And you can’t tell dad either—my friend made me promise not to tell. If you do that, he’ll never forgive me.”

Brow furrowed, Buck slowly asked, “But if you two are getting bullied at school...”

“It’s not that bad. We only have one class with them all, and we asked the teacher to change seats. We only have to worry about them in the hallways and at lunch, and it’s fine because we just started eating with the debate team while they run practice—”

“If you two are getting bullied at school,” Buck said with a little more force, like he could somehow will the boy into understanding where he was coming from, “this is something your dad needs to know about.”

Mouth opening, he could tell Chris was getting frustrated. And that typically meant he was getting ready to start yelling at him.

“I won’t tell him,” Buck cut him off before he could start, hands held out to placate, “but someone needs to. And I think that person’s gonna have to be you.”

Throwing his head back, Chris groaned, “I told you so I wouldn't have to tell him.”

“That’s not how this works, bud,” Buck said with genuine remorse. Not for what he had to do, but because of why he had to do it. “I’m sorry.”

For a moment—a horrible, awful moment—the boy refused to look at him. He wouldn’t even acknowledge him. But that was fine. Because even if Chris wasn't legally his kid, he’d still protect him like he was.

“I’ll tell him about Collin if you tell him about Cathy,” Chris said. It’d been so sudden, it had nearly knocked Buck clean out of his seat.

Recollecting himself, Buck stammered out, “Your dad already knows about Cathy.”

“No, I mean tell him all of it,” he argued, persistent as ever, “Like why you’re always so quiet when you come home after the meetings.

“All of two?”

“Buck!”

Exhaling a weary breath, Buck rested his head in his hands with a defeated huff. But in spite of it all... he couldn’t help but smile. What can he say? He was a smart kid.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Chris asked, blinking back in hesitant confusion.

“Fine,” the man repeated, sitting up a little straighter to address him, “but I’m thinking that maybe you tell him your thing first. You know, just to make sure we each honor our end of the bargain.”

Eyes narrowing, Chris leaned back in his seat in what felt like a challenge. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. But I am calling you sneaky,” Buck laughed. Leaning forward, he extended a single pinky finger and smiled. “Deal?”

And while Chris had made a show of carefully and thoroughly considering the offer, ultimately, he extended a pinky right back. “Deal,” and thus the pact was made. “I might wait a couple days though; Dad kinda has a lot going on right now. He gets grumpy when he’s hurt.”

“I know,” the man concurred with a solemn nod, gaze traveling toward the hallway Eddie had disappeared into more than twenty minutes ago. “Speaking of which... where is your dad?”

“Maybe he fell in,” Chris offered with a nonchalant shrug, returning his sole focus back to pre-calc. Poor kid.

Warily eyeing the hallway, Buck couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. So, rising from his seat and sliding his phone to the boy, he murmured, “I’m gonna go ahead and check up on him then. Holler for me if the timer goes off, ok?”

He was already halfway to the bathroom by the time he’d gotten the thumbs up from Chris. Rounding the corner, he rapped his knuckles against the white, chipping paint of the wooden door. Met with nothing but silence in return, confusion quickly became concern.

“Eddie?” Buck called, ear pressed flush against the door, “Eddie, are you in there?”

That time, he got a weak groan in response.

Blood running cold, Buck slid his hand across the top of the doorframe, retrieving the key pin. He had personally stocked every door in the house with one after the first—and hopefully last—time he had to break one of them down. Unlocking the door and carefully creaking it open, he peered inside.

What Buck saw made his heart plummet into his stomach.

“Eddie,” he gasped in horror, throwing himself down to the floor just to be by the other’s side.

One hand braced against the toilet seat while the other pressed into his own stomach, Eddie groaned, face twisted agony as he writhed against the bathroom tile. Skin pale and drenched with sweat, he reached out with a clammy hand, gripping Buck’s like a lifeline. “Call... ambulance...” he gritted out, doubling over as he was hit with another shockwave of pain.

“Chris,” Buck yelled out through the open door, “turn off the oven and bring me my phone!”

Ruptured appendix. Eddie had ruptured his fucking appendix.

“Has he been complaining about any random shooting pain in his abdominal area?”

“We’re almost forty in a job where we destroy our bodies for a living. Random shooting pain is sort of what we do.”

The nurse hadn’t found it nearly as endearing as Buck had hoped. Leaving the man to stew in the hospital waiting room, he had been left completely and utterly alone with his thoughts while Eddie underwent emergency surgery.

Well... almost alone.

“Tell Athena I said thanks again for taking Chris for the night,” Buck sighed, rubbing a tired hand down his face as he took the coffee presented to him, “I know it’s really short notice.”

Bobby took the seat directly next to him, nursing his own cup of coffee as he gave an acknowledging nod. “Don’t mention it, Buck. Really. We’re just glad everyone’s gonna be ok.”

And the thing was: he hadn’t even asked the man to come. He’d shot his captain a quick text explaining the situation and requesting a couple days off for both him and Eddie, and next he knew, Bobby and Athena were there, storming the entrance of the hospital.

Even if it was a low risk surgery that Eddie was expected to make a full recovery from, it was still nice to have someone in his corner willing to ride through the throws of exhaustion in a stuffy waiting room. 

Well. Someone other than the already tired and terrified teenager that’d been kept up far past his bedtime that is. On a school night no less. Which is why when Athena had helped usher a half-asleep Chris into the back of her car, extending the offer to drop the kid off at school in the morning... Buck had nearly burst into tears right then and there. But he hadn’t. Swallowing down the emotion crawling up his throat in blubbering babbles, he thanked the woman profusely before hugging Christopher, promising to let the boy know as soon as his dad was out of surgery.

It turned out to be longer than what he’d been expecting.

Exhaling a deep, calming breath, Buck forced his mind from jumping to the absolute worst case scenario. Something that was far easier said than done.

Glancing over, Bobby’s expression turned pensive as he worked out exactly what was going on in the other’s head. “Buck,” he said, gentle but firm, “Eddie will be fine. I promise.”

But that hadn’t been where his mind had gone—not all of it, at least. Because yes, logically, he knew Eddie would be fine. He would be out of surgery within the hour, back home sometime tomorrow, and back to work in the coming weeks. But still... he could have not been. And that had shaken him. That had shaken him to his very core.

“I’m just worried he was in more pain than he was willing to tell me,” Buck croaked. The admission felt like gargling glass. 

“Hm,” Bobby hummed, nodding to himself, “I wonder if that sounds like anyone else we know...”

And Buck supposed he’d brought it on himself. “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m not exactly good about that kind of stuff either. But still.”

“There’s a lot of reasons why we might lie to protect the people we care about,” Bobby explained, as calm and collected as ever, “and they usually have less to do with them and more to do with how we assume they’ll react. Like keeping something from a friend because you’re scared of how they might respond.”

“Sure.”

“Or like when parents don’t tell their kids the truth about Santa for a few more years than they probably should.”

“Of course.”

“Or like how you and Eddie never stopped by my office to sign the required disclosure documents despite being in a relationship at work for the last three months.”

“Yeah, obv—”

Buck froze.

Bobby smiled.

And it was impossible based on expression alone to figure out just how much trouble he was in. So, swallowing, Buck began to ask, “How did you...”

“Athena and I had security cameras installed around the outside of the house when we had it built,” the man answered. Always so straight to the point.

And although that had been something Buck had come to appreciate about the other, he wouldn’t have minded being eased into that particular revelation a little bit more. “Oh,” he said, settling back against the stiff, hospital seat. Then, remembering exactly what Bobby had likely seen on the security cameras... “Oh.”

With a serious nod, Bobby concurred, “‘Oh’ indeed.”

“Well,” Buck began, clearing his throat as he tried to clear the air, “I’m sure this may come as a bit of surprise to you—”

“I think I’m more surprised you didn’t dent the side of his truck the way you two were going at it.”

Burying his head in his hands, Buck groaned.

Reaching around to give the younger man an awkward, comforting pat on the back, Bobby didn’t waste any time before reassuring, “Off the record though: I’m happy for you. For both of you. Athena too.”

“And on the record?” he asked, finding himself dreading in anticipation of the potential reply.

Pursing his lips together, the man fished his phone out of his pocket. But when Buck opened his mouth to ask why, all he got was a single index finger held up at him, demanding both his silence and patience.

Phone eventually pinging with an email notification, he didn’t have to wait long to find out why.

“Get those back to me,” Bobby said as the other clicked on the disclosure documents attached to the bottom of the email. “Signed.”

And Buck felt lighter somehow. Though, that didn’t stop him from saying, “...I’m surprised you knew how to do that.”

“Send an email?”

“With an attachment from your phone? Absolutely.”

Bobby paused. Offended. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, Mr. [email protected],” Buck snickered.  “Dead serious.”

“What’s wrong with my email?”

“It’s a Yahoo.”

“You’re a yahoo.”

And as the hospital waiting room descended into quiet laughter from its only two occupants, they almost missed the nurse approaching them with a sorely awaited update. Almost.

“Family for Edmundo Diaz?” she announced, making her way over after Buck had all but fell out of his seat as he flagged her down. And as she recounted all she could— 'He did great but he’s still coming off the anesthesia, and when he does, the painkillers are going to make him a little loopy’ —he felt the knot coiled tight in his chest begin to loosen.

“Hey,” Bobby said, placing a hand against his shoulder, “everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just...” Staring at his phone, Buck grimaced, “I think I have to send an email.”

Because there was no way in hell they were making that bake sale tomorrow.

Hello Cathy,

I was just reaching out to give you a heads up that Eddie and I unfortunately will not be able to make the bake sale tomorrow. We had an unexpected trip to the ER tonight, and we won’t be able to contribute as planned.

So sorry for the inconvenience,
Buck

Buck,

You were informed one (1) week in advance of your obligations for this month’s bake sale. If you knew you were unable to make it, you should have made plans in advance to rectify that. Instead, I am left SCRAMBLING last minute trying to fill a spot that YOU left unfilled. Never in my six years as PTA president have I ever seen such a lack of care and responsibility from one of our members.

Do better.

Cathy Yarnevich
PTA President

To My Dearest Catherine,

sorry lol

In warm regards,
Buck

“Seriously? That’s what you sent?” Ravi asked from his seat in the fire engine, looking at Buck with disbelief and what might’ve been awe.

“Yep,” he replied, far enough removed from it to not have him shaking in seething fury. Again. And it only took three weeks! “Had a feeling it would piss her off more than anything else I could come up with.”

And going off of nothing more than the radio silence he’d been met with in reply, Buck was willing to bet he’d been right about that.

“Simple but effective,” Chim acknowledged with an appreciative nod, “I like it.”

“And more importantly: earned,” Hen added, brow pinched in an irritation that wasn’t directed at him. “Someone needs to tell her exactly where she can shove those ‘macarons.’”

“Or not,” Eddie interjected, “because I’d like for at least one of us to be able to keep attending meetings.”

Eyes narrowing, Buck fired back, “Hey, don’t act so innocent. You were the one that proofread it.”

“I... was on drugs?”

“Barely.”

Sputtering in indignation as every head in the fire engine turned to face him with an eyebrow raised, Eddie eventually muttered, “I didn’t say I’m against it. Maybe I’m just concerned about the potential paper trail, is all.”

Which... was admittedly a pretty fair point. One that Buck would keep in mind for future correspondences, no doubt. “Don’t worry. I plan on limiting my contact with Mrs. PTA President as much as I can from now on. And seeing as you’re all nice and healed from your surgery... you can attend this week’s meeting.”

“Yeah. That’s probably for the best,” Eddie chuckled with a slight shake of his head, “God—she’s gonna give me hell for this, isn’t she.”

“And one hell of a stink eye,” Bobby confirmed from the captain’s seat before getting straight to business: “Alright, just got the call telling us to move in. You all know the drill. Eddie, make sure to hang back a little and leave the heavy lifting to Buck and Ravi. You’re still recovering.”

Eddie’s incredulous scoff in reply was hidden by sirens as the truck took off, racing down the road. Well, almost. Buck had heard it just fine. He had also managed to catch what followed: “Unbelievable. Third longest amount of time I’ve been out for work on an injury, and it was because of an elbow.”

“Eddie,” Buck sighed, not really wanting to rehash this particular subject, “the doctor said your appendix was already pretty inflamed. If it wasn’t the elbow, it would’ve been something else—”

“An elbow, Buck.”

Exhaling a long, exaggerated breath, Buck opted to take the highroad: shifting in his seat until he was angled in a different direction to ignore the other more effectively.

Tentative and careful, he felt Eddie’s knee press into his. ‘I’m joking,’ it said.

With a small smile, Buck nudged him back. ‘I know.’

“Oh, so that’s how that happened?” Ravi remarked, glancing between the two like he’d connected some imaginary dots. “From what you guys told us this morning, I thought the two of you had...”

Yeah. Ok. So as it would turn out. Their little bake sale ‘kerfuffle’ wasn’t actually the only thing they’d chosen to disclose once Eddie had made it back to work—Buck knew exactly what kind of dots Ravi was currently connecting.

Eddie did too. “What was that, Ravi?” he asked, head cocked to the side. Eyes sharpening.

Ravi, perhaps sensing his mistake... “No. No, I think I’m good.”

“We’re, uh...” Chim began, hesitantly extending a hand to awkwardly pat Eddie on the back, “happy for your two. Really. Whatever it is the two of you are doing.”

Because Eddie had been the one to tell the crew they were together. Not boyfriends. Not dating. ‘Together.’ And although the distinction might’ve been slight might’ve been slight to most, it was still that. A distinction.

But Buck didn’t get much of an opportunity to spiral because as Chim regarded the pair oddly, it was almost like now that Ravi had mentioned it, it would actually make a lot of sense—

“Oh, look,” Buck exclaimed, already hooking a hand in the door handle, “we’re here!”

The truck had barely come to a rolling stop before he was swinging it open and jumping out. Boots meeting the turf of the football field, he and the rest of the 118 got to work.

Despite Buck’s early start, Bobby ran ahead of the brunt of the pack as the others lingered behind to dismount their tools and equipment. It wasn’t until he heard the man’s voice over the field’s PA system that he knew Bobby had gotten exactly where he needed to go:

“Hello, my name is Captain Nash of the LAFD,” he announced to the bleachers packed full of bored highschoolers, “and I’m here to tell you about some of the dangers of drinking and driving.”

In the center of the field a couple yards away from their engine were two ‘smoking,’ crumpled shells of some cars. They’d been donated by a local salvage yard and rigged up with smoke machines, using kids from the high school’s theatre club to depict varying states of injury in the aftermath of a car accident. On Bobby’s word, they broke out the saws and jaws, covering the ‘injured’ for sparks and one ‘dead’ for privacy. After that, they followed procedure as if it’d been a normal car accident and not a Mock DUI for a local high school. Chris’ high school, no less.

And then came the airlift.

“Why are you waving up there?” Eddie shouted over the whirls of the helicopter blade as one of the student actors was loaded into the aircraft before it took off again.

“It might by Lucy!” Buck yelled back, still waving.

“This seems like kind of a lot for a Mock DUI,” Ravi said, watching as police cuffed the ‘drunk driver’—another student from the theatre department. “When’s the last time we airlifted someone from a car accident in West Hollywood?”

“Aaand here comes the hearse,” Eddie pointed out, and sure enough, a black hearse pulled onto the track looping around the football field. Coming to a complete stop near the wreckage of the car shells, someone jumped out the side with a body bag. “Not sure we’re going for complete accuracy here.”

Off to the side was an empty prefab that looked to be a part of the demonstration, giving the appearance of a living room.

“I think they do a skit beforehand,” Eddie supplied before Buck could even ask despite looking just as confused, “I don’t know, we can ask Chris later.”

After they’d helped load up the ‘dead’ student into a body bag and then into the back of the hearse, the team gathered back at the fire engine on standby. Bobby having long since handed off the microphone back to the school’s principal rejoined his crew, listening to whatever standard messaging of “Don’t Drink and Drive” was being imparted.

Then there was the poem.

And it was... fine. Absolutely fine. A little clunky and probably written by a high schooler, sure, but still: fine. Did it need to be played on the field’s PA system to sad instrumental while the hearse took a couple laps around the track? Probably not. But then again, Buck was not an expert in children’s learning. And maybe the muffled laughter he heard coming from the bleachers was the sound of that ‘learning.’

“My life was cut so short; I didn’t even get to make it to prom court.”

“They’re flubbing it,” Chim lamented with a sigh, “and now these kids are gonna think firefighters are losers the way they think cops are losers after D.A.R.E.”

“That’s enough,” Bobby scolded as the rest concurred with the previous sentiment, each giving a solemn nod, “it’s not that bad, and even if it was, it’s the message that matters. Not the delivery. The kids will see that—”

“We didn’t see that truck coming down the road; I felt it hit my face like a great big load.”

“Oh, God,” Bobby muttered, hanging his head in reluctant concession.

“They’re going for another loop around the track,” Hen observed in abject horror, “that means at least another five stanzas.”

Seven. In the end, it’d been seven. And when the hearse finished its final loop, pulling off the track before disappearing down the main road, they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Or... they had, until they realized they now had to sit through ‘Act III’ of that aforementioned skit:

The prefab of the living room was no longer empty, now occupied by two actors that must’ve snuck in while everyone had been distracted by the... artistry… of that poem. Buck presumed they were meant to be the ‘dead’ student’s parents, a theory that was proven by the cop knocking on the flimsy, wooden door to inform them of their child’s untimely death, accompanied by a shriek of despair from the mother character. It was melodramatic and poorly acted, which was fine because he was under the impression these were volunteers anyways. No, Buck’s issues with the performance only seemed to come from the realization of who was playing the said ‘mother character.’

“Ugh—it’s her,” he groaned, staring down none other than Cathy Yarnevich from across the field. And based on the snickers coming from some select members of the team—basically everyone but Bobby—no one was sympathetic to his plight.

“Maybe you and Eddie can go lock up those tools you left on the field to distract yourselves,” Bobby said, patting him on the back. Less of suggestion stemming from genuine concern and more of one coming from a non-subtle wish for them to pick up after themselves.

Sighing, Buck relented regardless. And based on the disgusted look he was currently receiving from Cathy who had just realized it was his department assisting in the demonstration this year... he wasn’t the only one a little miffed to not be given a heads-up.

Buck gave a little wave to piss her off.

“Ok, now you’re just winding her up,” Eddie scolded, folding the sheet that’d been left draped against the car wreck.

At that, Buck had to scoff, “For all she knew, you could’ve been on your deathbed when I sent that first email. I’ll wind her up as much as I want to.”

Stopping anything and everything he was doing, Eddie turned to face him completely, a flash of emotion across his face. Something disappointed and disapproving.  “You’re being catty.”

And if not for the principal pivoting and introducing the lawyer meant to walk the student body through all the charges they could incur from a DUI... Buck might’ve said something he’d later regret. Something he didn’t mean. So, instead, he didn’t say anything at all.

It did not have the desired effect. 

“Don’t do that,” Eddie sighed, still staring at him. “Don’t shut down on me.”

“Not really sure what I’m supposed to say to that,” Buck muttered, picking up a spare Halligan and walking it back to the engine.

Eddie wasn’t far behind. “Well, can you say something? Because I feel like there’s been this thing looming over us for the last month, and neither of us are really addressing it.”

Yeah. That sounded about right. That’s around the time he’d talked to Maddie and then forgot to take her advice. And he’d meant to, God—he meant to. Because it was good advice. But when he’d walked out of the meeting directly proceeding, he’d made the executive decision to put it off at least until after the bake sale. Then, Eddie’s appendix exploded, and it became, ‘Just wait until he’s recovered. Once he’s recovered, you can talk about it.’ And then he just... never got around to it.

Until now, apparently.

Buck cast an obvious glance at the bleachers of children lining the football field. It wasn’t like they’d hear, but still. “You wanna do this now?”

It only seemed to embolden the other. “While we’re on the subject? Yeah,” and he said it with a desperation entirely unfamiliar in its association with him. “Yeah, I feel like I have to.”

Shaking his head, Buck just shelved the rest of the equipment, ignoring the dread coiling deep in his stomach. Ignoring the hurt in Eddie’s eyes. Ignoring a commotion in the bleachers he was becoming increasingly aware of...

“Talk to me,” Eddie practically begged, reclaiming the other’s undivided attention.

He’s always been good at that. Making everything else fade to the background, pushing his way to the front of every thought it was possible for him to occupy. And it was most of them, making it damn near impossible to deny his requests.

So, ultimately, Buck didn’t: “Why do I feel like you’re not on my side with this?”

Dumbstruck, Eddie stared at him like he’d lost his goddamn mind. “With Cathy? When have I not been on your side with Cathy?”

“You literally just called me catty.”

Again. Another pause. But this time, giving a slow, careful nod, Eddie was willing to make the concession, “Ok. You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that, and I’m sorry. But is that really what this is about? The PTA? Buck... you don’t have to keep going to those things. Those people are assholes, I didn’t even want you to go to them in the first place—”

And there it was. Bit by excruciating bit, they were finally getting to the root of it. “Why not?” Buck asked, heart clawing up his throat. He was one wrong word away from spewing it at the other’s feet.

A complicated emotion flashed across the other’s face before he took a deep breath to recenter himself. Like defusing a bomb without ever being taught how, Eddie was trying to solve a problem that had never been communicated to him. And he was failing. “Buck. Let me finish.”

“No. Why wouldn’t you want me to go to Chris’ PTA meetings for you?”

“If you’d let me talk, I could explain—”

“What am I to you?”

And it came so abruptly, Buck surprised even himself. Stunned into silence, the two stared at one another staring across a widening gap neither had known was there. But now that they did, it was impossible to ignore.

Opening his mouth, Eddie grasped for words that would never come. Closing it again with a hard set in jaw and rueful shake of his head, he turned to look away from the other.

Hands shaking, Buck closed the compartment of the engine with a resounding THUNK . Walking away on unsteady feet, it felt like the ground shifted beneath him with each step. And he got maybe all of three paces away before a hand gripped him by the bicep, pulling him back in.

Unrelenting with his grip, Eddie looked at him like he was trying to crack a code. Watching him. Studying him. And when he could finally bring himself to speak, it was something strained and subdued, “How can you even—”

There was a chorus of screams from the bleachers, and everything preceding was effectively sidelined.

Heads snapping over to face the commotion, they saw a boy doubled over and clutching his nose with another boy—maybe slightly older—looming over him, expression manic with adrenaline and fist red with blood. And believe or not, that wasn’t even what had the pair doing a double take. No. That would have to be the third kid who materialized from the surrounding gaggle of high schoolers egging on the fight. The kid with glasses and crutches and curly hair, looking at the victor with a hatred Buck didn’t think he’d ever seen before. Not from him.

Not from Christopher.

Face burning red with anger, Chris didn’t utter a single word. With a stilted, furious lurch, he jabbed the end of his crutch into the other boy’s sternum, throwing himself forward with what looked like the entire weight of his body.

Caught off-guard and not expecting the retaliation, the other went toppling over the railing of the bleachers, falling a distance of about two to three feet until he landed on the field below with a screech of pain, arm bent at an unnatural angle. And if not for the kindness of the surrounding students who latched onto him, keeping him upright, Chris probably would’ve gone down with him.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

Some of the other boy’s friends didn’t take too kindly to that, and they made a move to grab for the culprit. What they weren’t anticipating, however, was that Chris would have more than a few friend’s on his side too. And that they were more than willing to throw a couple hands in his honor.

“Holy shit—the debate team’s beating the lacrosse team’s ass!” someone yelled amidst the ensuing pandemonium. 

The next thing Buck knew, Eddie lurched into action. Locked in a dead sprint, the man was already halfway across the field the next time he blinked.

“Buck,” Bobby yelled, fast approaching where the other remained rooted in place, “what the hell just happened?”

“Chris...” Buck trailed, staggering forward before stammering out, “Chris got into a fight.”

And with Hen, Chim, and Ravi hot on their trail, the cacophony of questions were soon to follow:

“Oh my God—”

“Is he ok—”

“Did he win?”

All at once, everyone slowly turned to face Ravi. Incredulous.

But Buck didn’t bother with a reply. Fire adequately lit under his ass, he was taking off down the field right behind Eddie.

When he’d finally gotten to the scene of the crime, things had mostly cooled off. Mostly. The students weren’t actively clashing anymore, the fight having been broken up by school faculty and nearby police that had helped with the Mock DUI. Christopher, however...

“Tell them what you said!” Chris shrieked, angry, hot tears streaming down his reddened face. He jerked towards the boy still writhing on the field below, as if he intended to follow him over the railing and finish what he started. “Tell them what you said!”

Having leapt over the railing and into the bleachers, Eddie held onto his son as he thrashed in his arms, murmuring something in his ear. But Chris wasn’t hearing it, furiously shaking his head at whatever his dad had just asked of him.

And as it would turn out, much to their combined dismay, Eddie was not the only parent on-site during this developing situation.

“Oh my God—control your son!” Cathy screamed as she cradled the boy groaning between sobs on the football field. The boy who’s arm Christopher probably broke. The boy who, more likely than not, was being tended to by his mother.

The boy who was none other than Collin Yarnevich.

And Buck felt like a world-class fool. Because when Chris had come to him a week after Eddie had gotten home from the hospital, saying that Collin had lost interest and had stopped picking on him and his friend... he had believed him. God—why the hell had Buck believed him?

Stunned, he just stood there and watched as the rest of the 118 moved in to start triage. It wasn’t until he felt the eyes boring into him from across the way that he managed to pull his attention away from Hen and Chim attempting to set Collin’s broken arm.

Eddie stared back at him, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Expression damning. Because Chris had never had any issues at school before, and he certainly wasn’t getting into any fights. And with Cathy’s son, no less? There could only be one possible culprit, and he was looking right at him.

Buck startled as he felt a hesitant hand place itself on his shoulder.

“Hey,” Ravi ventured in what sounded like genuine concern, “you good?”

With a shuddering breath that wracked his entire body, Buck gave a stilted shake of his head. Because he was dumb, and stupid, and irrational, and worst of all—right. He’d been fucking right. And he had no one to blame but himself. So, with a whisper he himself could barely hear:

“I think I might’ve ruined it.”

“We’ll talk when I get home.”

That was what Eddie had said to him after everything was all said and done. After they’d carted any injured party off to the hospital for treatment. After they’d managed to calm Christopher down a little. After Bobby had given both men the rest of the shift off to deal with the aftermath of their—no— Eddie’s kid getting into a fight on school grounds.

Eddie had handed off his equipment to the team to take care of, disappearing  into the school with the principal to discuss the next steps while Buck had caught a ride back to the station in a suffocatingly quiet fire engine. From there, he’d hung up his turncoat, changed into his street clothes, hopped in his jeep and went straight home, ignoring every call and text from Maddie as they came in. Because it’s not like he expected her to tell him “I told you so.” No, it was because she wouldn’t. And that just wasn’t a kindness he felt he deserved in that moment, if ever again.

As the sun began to set and he still hadn’t gotten any word from either Eddie or Chris, he debated calling. And after he didn’t do that, he considered spending the night in his loft. He still had some clothes there and he was still a couple months off from deciding whether or not he’d be renewing his lease. The latter half of that being yet another thing the two of them hadn’t gotten around to talking about. Though, this time... maybe it’d been a blessing in disguise.

A sentiment he tried to remind himself of during the hours of daylight he’d had left. As he raged, and cried, and spent three hours furiously scrubbing down every surface in the house until his nailbeds were chapped from antiseptic and bleach. As he made up his bed on the couch with a throw blanket and an extra pillow he’d found in the linen closet so the other wouldn’t have to bother. Knowing that—if nothing else—he could do that for him. Buck could do that for Eddie.

So that’s what he did. Flicking off every light in the house until nothing but the coach lights and the moon dimly illuminated the interior, Buck got himself settled against the couch cushions as comfortably as he could manage, and he attempted to fall asleep.

With a deep breath in...

...and a deep breath out...

He had to pee.

Groaning, he pushed out of ‘bed’ and shuffled uncomfortably into the hallway bathroom. Flipping the toilet cover up, he didn’t bother turning the lights on. Partly because the sudden brightness would hurt his eyes, but mostly because—sometimes—he liked to see if he could aim off of nothing more than muscle memory. Sue him.

That’s when he heard it. The familiar jingle of keys followed by the click of the front door as it was unlocked, two pairs of feet soon to enter. The two arrivals spoke to one another, low and subdued, at a volume Buck couldn’t quite hear. Murmurs that didn’t sound angry, only tired.

The sound of crutches clacking against the floor traveled down the hallway until disappearing into a room. Chris’ room. And when it wasn’t immediately followed by its resident slamming the door in frustration, Buck took that as a good sign. Or at the very least: an optimistic one.

However, he couldn’t quite keep that optimism from fizzling out as the next pair of footfalls drew near. Pausing in what sounded like the kitchen, its occupant opened the fridge and made a quiet, disbelieving huff of amusement. So faint he’d nearly missed it.

Yeah. Maybe Buck had gone a bit overboard with the cleaning.

Pulling up his pants, Buck waited for Eddie to move on, essentially hiding from him until he called it a night and went to bed. Because he was a coward, and that’s what cowards did: delay the inevitable.

Eventually, Eddie made a move for his bedroom. The one at the end of the hallway. The one he’d shared with Buck. But soon enough, that too would change. And that simple fact alone was nearly enough to have the man keeling over to dry heave into the toilet bowl.

Faintly, Buck heard the sound of the light being flicked on in the bedroom, and the footsteps approaching came to a stuttering pause. Whatever Eddie had found, it had him erring on the side of caution.

“...Buck?” the man called, fabric rustling like a sheet being ripped away from the bedframe. Getting no response, his search turned frantic, “Buck!”

Ok. Shit. Time to bite the bullet.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Buck hoped the joints in his feet crackling against the floorboards were enough to announce his approach. But as he rounded the corner into the bedroom, catching Eddie as he rifled through the drawers of his dresser with a frenzied look in his eyes... that clearly was not the case.

The two stared at one another, not a single word uttered between them. 

“You weren’t in bed,” Eddie said, voice raw and rasping. Looking lost in his own home.

“I was in the bathroom,” Buck murmured, feet planted firmly in the doorway as he offered his meager explanation. It wasn’t enough, but it was all he really had.

Hands still gripping the sides of one of his sock drawers—the one Buck had practically taken over by the third time he’d officially slept over—he stammered, “Your drawer was empty.”

With a wry smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Buck replied, “I haven’t gotten around to laundry yet.”

 Eddie must not have gotten a chance to look in the closet either, for if he had, he’d have seen his clothes still occupying their hangers, staggered between his own. There was no ‘this side is yours’ and ‘that side is mine.’ It was just theirs. Far too intertwined with one another than what was either normal or convenient. Far too intertwined for their own good.

Buck wouldn’t have had it any other way. And as Eddie stared into that empty drawer—expression haunted—he suspected the other might’ve felt the same.

“I thought you left, I thought...” Eddie trailed, leaving the other to fill in the blanks.

Frowning, he attempted to: “I wouldn’t leave without saying something.” Not by text, or phone call, or note left on his end table. Because if one or the other was going to break each other’s hearts, Buck thought they should at least have to look them in the eyes while they did it.

“But you would?” Eddie asked, eyes finally snapping away from the dresser to look at him. Words clipped and brittle, “You’d leave?”

Shaking his head, Buck didn’t even need to consider it. His reply came as naturally as breathing. “Not unless you asked me to,” and when Eddie didn’t react, eyes despairing and expression unchanged, he forced himself to swallow around nothing. It was all he could do to keep himself from crying as he asked, “Did... did you want me to—”

“No,” Eddie breathed; a pained, gasping thing, as if it’d been torn from his lungs like a malignant tumor. Distress ever-growing with each staggering step forward, “No, I never want you to.”

And he was begging. Buck didn’t understand why he was begging.

“Can we sit down?” Eddie asked after a long, suffocating moment neither had filled with words. Neither thought they could. Gesturing to the bed— their bed—he took Buck by the arm, gently tugging him forward.

Giving a stiff and stilted nod before he had time to doubt, Buck let him. As soon as he felt the mattress dip beneath them both, sitting on the edge with his hands braced against his knees, he began to ask, “Is Chris...”

“Chris is fine,” Eddie answered, face softening as the other exhaled a sigh of pure relief. “Two weeks detention and still a little wound up, but he’s fine.”

And Buck was at a bit of crossroads with this one. On one hand, knowing Chris had escaped both suspension and expulsion was enough to have him on his hands and knees praising the powers that be. On the other, however... “That seems mild. I thought for sure he broke that kid’s arm.”

“Oh, he did,” Eddie said. Short, simple, and straight to the point. “But everyone saw Cathy’s kid hit Jake first.”

“Jake? Who’s Jake?”

“Chris’ friend. I think he was getting picked on too. He’s the one that stepped in after Collin said something to Chris and ended up with a broken nose. Couple that with what that little shit actually said…” the other trailed, something in his expression darkening, “school admin were willing to exercise some leniency here. For Chris, at least. Collin got in-school suspension and three weeks detention.”

And perhaps it was petty—beefing this hard with a high schooler he’d never officially met—but something in Buck warmed at that. It didn’t last long, however, mind wandering to something else Eddie had mentioned: “What’d he say to him? To Chris.”

There it was again. That look. The one Eddie always got when he knew he’d have to tell the other something neither of them were going to like. “He said something about Shannon,” he breathed, shoulders hunching like it physically pained him to admit, “something along the lines of, ‘Is this how they told your dad when your mom got hit by that car?’”

For a moment, Buck was certain the world around him had stopped dead in its tracks as he briefly pondered the ethics of tracking down a high schooler and breaking his other arm.

“Which is weird,” Eddie continued, no less affected than before, “because according to Chris, he hasn’t told anyone about what happened to his mom—nothing about her getting hit by a car at least.”

Brow furrowed, Buck watched the other carefully, unsure of where this was going.

With a long suffering sigh, Eddie didn’t keep him waiting for an answer, “During the first PTA meeting I went to, Cathy asked me about my wife and a good phone number to reach her on. I told her I was a widower, and... and I may have let some details slip.”

For the second time that night, Buck felt his world stop. Blood boiling and pulse stuttering, he gritted out, “And you think that she...”

“It’s the only thing I can think of,” Eddie supplied, a distant look in his eyes. Like he was somewhere miles and miles away.

And despite it all—despite how easy it would be to pin the blame on Cathy and Cathy alone... Buck couldn’t. Not really. “I’m sorry,” he choked, throat constricting around the words, “this is my fault.”

“No,” the other exhaled. Exhausted. “It’s not—”

“It is. Chris told me three weeks ago about this kid giving him and his friend trouble at school, and I wanted to give him a chance to tell you himself. Then your appendix ruptured and you were in the hospital and...” Excuses. He was making excuses. So, forcing himself to take a deep breath, he finished, “I should have told you, but I didn’t. And I’m the reason Cathy even has a reason to go after you two in the first place. So it’s my fault.”

The admission hung heavy in the air between them, and all Buck could do was stare at his hands, picking at the dry skin of his nailbeds. When he finally managed a glance over at Eddie, he didn’t look nearly as surprised as he should’ve been.

“Chris told me on the ride home. He also said he told you a couple weeks back that things had fixed themselves,” the man explained. “You also weren’t the one giving out personal information to a child so he could use it against a kid of a parent you don’t like. So no, Buck. It’s not your fault.”

Dutifully, Buck listened to those words. Absorbing them. Trying to make himself believe them. And as he came close but not quite all the way, he gave a slight nod, even if it was just to acknowledge he’d heard.

“I would’ve still liked for you to tell me about it though,” Eddie finished with boundless patience in spite of everything. “About all of it.”

And he was right. Of course he was right. But even if Buck was able to admit that to himself, it didn’t stop the guilt from eating away at the lining of his stomach, making him nauseous and ill. Because there was a reason he hadn’t told the other, and it boiled down to ‘I didn’t want Chris to be mad at me’ more than he would’ve liked to admit. “I wasn’t sure if it was my thing to tell.”

A complicated emotion flashed across the other’s face. Not quite frustration, not quite resignation. Something caught in the middle. Something else. “I know it’s hard to be the ‘bad guy’ sometimes when it comes to Chris,” he began, calm and measured, “but you’re not his friend, you’re his—"

Eddie cut himself off, as if understanding the gravity of what he was about to say and ultimately deciding against it.

Which was fine. That was his decision, and that was absolutely fine. But that didn’t mean it hadn’t jostled something in the other. Something brittle and bleeding.

That’s when Eddie turned his body to face him. Fully and completely. And when he spoke, he did so earnestly, “I need you to tell me about things like this. Because we’re a team and this... this is our kid.”

There it was again. Ours—ours—ours. Like he was handing Buck his most precious possession and not only trusting him to keep it safe, but to cherish it. To treat it as his own. Because to Eddie, it was. Chris was. And it all still felt a little surreal. “Are you sure?” he asked, ignoring the way his eyes burned with an emotion he tried to hide.

But as always, Eddie saw it for what it was. He saw Buck. So, tone soft but no less despairing than it’d been on that football field, “How can you ask me that?”

Mouth snapping shut, Buck didn’t respond. He didn’t trust himself. Not yet.

But as the silence stretched on, it was taken as answer enough. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Eddie rasped, “I’m sorry.”

...what?

“I don’t know what happened to make you feel that way,” he continued, eyes red and wet with unshed tears. The effort to hold them back looked like it was physically hurting him. “But if that’s how you feel and it had something to do with me, then I’m sorry. God, Buck, I’m so sorry.”

And as Eddie shuddered, choking back a sob he was unwilling to let out, a panic gripped Buck’s chest like none other. “No. Eddie, no,” he stammered, asking for—no— pleading for an understanding he wasn’t sure he’d been owed, “it has nothing to do with you, it’s me—”

“If it’s you, it has everything to do with me,” Eddie exclaimed, wincing at his own volume. Lowering his tone, the words that followed were far more contained despite the wobble in his voice and the tears that had managed to escape him, “Do you really not see that? Do you not understand what you are to me? You’re the most important person in my life right behind Chris, and I’m sorry if I don’t say it enough or if I said something that made you think you aren’t, but you are. And if you’re not ok with that, you need to tell me now.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Buck said, wiping a tear of his own as it rolled miserably down his check.

But as Eddie continued to stare, it was clear that wasn’t going to cut it. That it wasn’t all of it. And deep down, Buck knew that too. “But you don’t believe me,” the man said, definitive and damning, “That’s why you asked me what you were to me earlier. And it’s either because you don’t know, or you don’t believe me.”

“I...” Buck tried only for the words to be choked back by the emotion welling up inside him. But he knew he needed to finish—he owed it to Eddie to finish.  “Why don’t you ever call me your boyfriend?”

And it felt so juvenile to finally say it out loud. Yet here they were.

If Eddie felt the same, he hid it well. Instead, he looked inward, face scrunching up in confusion. Whatever he found must’ve left him at a complete loss, for soon enough, he asked, “Don’t I?”

“No. You don’t.”

Again, Eddie was left bewildered. “Are you sure?” and it didn’t sound like he was trying to convince Buck. It sounded like was trying to convince himself.

And... ok, now Buck was starting to have some doubts of his own, “...yes?”

“But we are though. Boyfriends,” Eddie ventured, the crease in his eyebrow only getting deeper, “You know that, right? I need to know that you know that.”

Buck froze, wracking his brain for an explanation that would suffice. Unfortunately, however, it was like trying to put words to feelings that he wasn’t even sure had been invented yet. “And you see, when you say that... it makes sense. Logically I know it makes sense.”

“Buck,” the other said, words taking a hysterical edge, “do you really think I’d fill out a whole relationship-disclosure form if I didn’t think you and I were in a relationship? I hate paperwork.”

At that, Buck gave a lightheaded laugh that felt more like a forceful expulsion of his lungs than anything else. “It’s... dumb,” he eventually said, and it felt like as good an answer as any. Because it was. It was dumb.

Eddie, unwavering in his resolve, pressed on, “Tell me anyways.”

And Buck had never been good at denying him that:

“Why me?”

Two words. Simple enough. And yet, Eddie couldn’t come close to understanding them, “What?”

“Just... out of everyone you could be with,” Buck continued, swallowing his fear as it came climbing up his throat, “why me?”

The range of emotions that flashed across the other’s face was simply astounding, jumping from each extreme like a pendulum swinging wildly out of control. But as the room got quiet and they began to settle, Eddie’s frown turned pensive. Concentrating. Deliberating. Really giving the other’s question the consideration it deserved. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world...

“Because I love you. And being with you makes me happy.”

There were no further justifications. No elaboration. Just those few words that struck a chord so deep within the other, it vibrated beneath his skin. Which is why when Buck asked again, it felt raw and messy, “A-are you sure?”

Because there no way— no fucking way it was that easy. That it was that simple. He had to be imagining it—he had to be. Because if he wasn’t, then it was all for nothing. The sleepless nights, the restless doubts, it was all for nothing—

The hands reaching out to cup either side of his jaw were enough to startle him out of his downward spiral.

“Listen to me,” Eddie said, gentle but firm. Deep brown eyes focused on nothing but the man he held in his hands. “I need to know you’re actually going to hear what I have to say.”

Slowly but surely, Buck managed a single, scared nod.

Giving one in return—a mutual acknowledgement—Eddie took it as permission to continue, “Let me preface this by saying: I wouldn’t change a thing about my life. Not marrying Shannon, or having Christopher, or anything before or after. Nothing.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Eddie paused. Waiting.

So again, Buck gave another nod.

“But I have spent almost my entire life being what other people have expected of me. Whether it was my parents or my friends or the church... and as soon as I turned nineteen, I got the only girl I’d ever dated pregnant. Then, all of a sudden, I was a father. And if I hadn’t been living for myself before, I sure as hell wouldn’t be starting now,” and despite what he was saying—what that had meant for that young and scared version of the other—there was not an ounce of regret to be found in those words. Not a single one.

As Eddie stared at him with an intensity in his eyes that Buck felt in every iota of his being, the man’s next words split him down the middle like an axe chopping through oak: “And I’m telling you this because, sometimes, I think you’re the first thing I ever got to choose for myself.”

And Buck couldn’t bite back his sob. Not this time.

“So yeah, Buck,” Eddie finished, using his hold on his jaw as leverage to draw him close. Until his breath was hitting his face in slow, measured bursts, “I’m sure.”

The lips Buck felt against his were gentle. Tentative. Like they were asking for permission. And he gave it— God, he gave it. Sinking into the embrace, he clasped onto Eddie like he was the last thing tethering him to planet Earth. Tilting his chin, he leaned further into the kiss. Deepening it without dirtying it.

“You need to tell me if you ever start feeling this way again,” Eddie pulled away, gasping. It was brief and he didn’t go far, but it needed to be heard just the same, “Please.”

“I will,” Buck said, meaning it, before diving back into the kiss. Eddie let him, snorting at the sheer tenacity of it all, resigning himself to his fate until the other pulled away or until one of them suffocated and died.

That was, until, he remembered something crucial.

“Hold on,” Eddie said, ignoring the way Buck whined from the loss as suddenly broke the kiss and rose from the bed, “there’s something else. Wait here.”

And just like that, he was gone. Disappearing down the hallway, leaving Buck wondering what the hell just happened. It wasn’t until Eddie came shuffling back, inconspicuous manilla folder in hand, that he even attempted to theorize.

Eddie plopped it on the bed next to him, taking a second to look rather proud of himself as he crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for the other to sift  through the contents of what he’d brought him.

Buck obliged, flicking open the folder. “What,” he trailed, met with spreadsheets upon spreadsheets of itemized lists and dollar amounts, “is this?”

With a self-satisfied grin, Eddie replied, “PTA finances.”

Eyes widening as he confirmed that, yes, that was in fact looking what he was currently looking at, Buck peered up at the other—dumbfounded—and asked, “Which you got by...?” He wasn’t sure if he actually wanted an answer.

Regardless, Eddie supplied it, “Well. You see. Cathy just so happened to leave her purse unattended when she went to the bathroom—

“Eddie!”

“I have a good reason,” he said, conspiratorial to a concerning degree. Taking his seat next to the other, he took the folder from him and flipped through it until he pulled out a particular spreadsheet, “I got to talking with some other parents—the ones of the kids who jumped in to help Chris. We all had to have a meeting about it. And as it would turn out: a lot of them were involved in the PTA last year but ended up quitting.”

“Because of Cathy?” Buck asked. It was his leading theory, after all.

A pretty good one too, Eddie nodding along with an amused huff, “Partly. But mostly, it was because of who she endorsed for treasurer. And since most of the remaining parents wanna crawl up that woman’s ass and live there, that’s who ended up getting the position.”

“Brianna?”

“Yeah. Which raised a lot of alarm bells because she doesn’t have an accounting background. Not like the three other people that ran for the position, one of which was the current treasurer at the time.”

“Ok. Yeah. Yeah, that’s weird.” Buck breathed, his brain a jumble of dots he was only in the beginning stages of successfully connecting.

“It’s even weirder when you find out the last treasurer was Johanna,” Eddie said, chuckling as the other’s face lit up in shock and disbelief. “Yeah. I know. The other parents said she and Cathy were best friends until this had happened, and it’s apparently why she can’t stand Brianna.”

Leaning over, Buck examined the spreadsheets again. They remained nothing more than a jumble of numbers and letters. “So that’s why you stole their finance sheets? Over some drama in their last election?”

“Well, it’s actually a funny story,” he laughed nervously, avoiding Buck’s stare as his cheeks reddened. Not necessarily ashamed, but undeniably embarrassed. “I didn’t... actually... know?

And Buck was left gawking. Once he’d found his voice again, he spoke, “Eddie, these could’ve been important. Birth certificates, passports, social security cards...” All things that were both normal and common to put in your purse to bring to your child’s school. Yep. Absolutely.

“That’s... actually kind of what I was hoping for?”

“Eddie.”

“I don’t know what came over me!” he threw up his arms and exclaimed, “It’s like I was possessed. I was planning on throwing the folder in the dumpster until I found out what it was—I don’t know, stop being weird about it!”

With a laugh that bordered breathlessness, Buck accused, “And you called me catty?”

Conceding with an embarrassed huff and some laughter of his own, Eddie pressed on, handing one of the spreadsheets over to him to look at closer, “Anyways. Nothing on here jumped out at me until we got outside and one of the parents commented on how shitty the school’s landscaping had gotten in the last six months, and it reminded me of something Cathy said to be. Way back after that first meeting.”

“Ok,” Buck nodded, brow pinched as he began to sense where the other might’ve been going with this, “continue.”

Reaching over, Eddie pointed out an item on the list. ‘Greenview Paving & Landscaping.’ “These spreadsheets go three years back, and this is who they used to employ to do the school’s landscaping.”

Buck checked the price, making a mental note.

“Now,” the man said, pointing out a different item on the list, “look at who they hired within the last six months to replace them.”

Buck did. ‘LA Gardenscape.’ It was almost double the price. “Call me crazy, but I don’t think that was a good financial decision.”

“Right?” Eddie said, fishing his phone from his back pocket before handing it over, “So imagine my surprise when I look it up and find out who their website lists as their founder.”

Scanning the screen, Buck’s eyes land on a picture of a man wearing a collared shirt paired with a tight-lipped smile. Unremarkable in almost every way. It wasn’t until he saw the man’s name listed below that he understood the gravity of it all.

Brian Yarnevich. Founder and CEO of LA Gardenscape.

“Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, blinking back in shock. Shooting off the bed and to his feet, he exclaimed, “Holy shit.”

Eddie just leaned back on the bed. Rightfully smug.

“That’s why she endorsed Brianna—she wanted someone who either didn’t know what they were doing, or someone that she knew would fall in line!” Pacing the room back and forth, it got him wondering what else Cathy was willing to do with PTA finances.

He needed a CPA. Stat.

But before he could run to the kitchen and grab his phone, there was a quiet knock on the door, and that plan of action would have to wait.

Opening the door, Christopher peeked his head into the room. Looking uncharacteristically sheepish. “I have a question,” he said.

“Ok,” Eddie was the one to say, “what’s up?”

Eyes darting anxiously across the room, never quite able to make himself meet his father’s gaze, the boy asked, “Would I be in more or less trouble if a video of the fight got posted? Hypothetically.”

Exchanging confused glances, the two men looked back at their son.

“Well,” Buck began, “hypothetically, how many views did it get?”

“Hypothetically... a quarter of a million.”

The room fell silent save for Eddie’s tired sigh as he rubbed the headache building in his temples. “Might have to go with ‘more’ on this one, bud.”

“Oh,” Chris acknowledged, nodding along with his father’s words. “Good thing this is all a hypothetical then.”

Wordlessly, he turned around, scurrying back to his room before either man could inform him of what that ‘trouble’ could entail.

As soon they heard his bedroom door click shut from down the hall, both men busted out laughing. It was gasping, and quiet, and something they had to muffle with their hands lest the teenager actually hear them. But as Buck stared at Eddie, committing every inch of joy on the man’s face to memory... it was fine. They were going to be fine. 

Just as soon as Buck made a phone call.

“Don’t be nervous,” Eddie said, jumping out from the passenger side of the jeep before walking up with the other to the entrance of the school.

“I’m not nervous,” Buck replied. Nervously.

Chuckling, Eddie slowed his pace so they could walk side-by-side. Taking Buck’s hand in his, he gave it a comforting squeeze.

 Stepping into the classroom of that month’s meeting felt like walking the gauntlet. Every head in the room turning to face them at once, the two made the definitive decision to take their seats somewhere near the back. 

“Do you think they know about the fight?” Buck whispered, feeling every glare and dirty glance from all corners of the room.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, returning a couple of those looks with some of his own, curling a protective arm around the back of Buck’s seat, “yeah, I think they do.”

But despite their morbid curiosity, the rest of the parents eventually turned away and let them be, even if it was only to exchange gossip about the pair. From what Buck had managed to make out, most of it consisted of the standard ‘Why the hell are those two allowed in here?’ that one might expect. Which—admittedly—was a fair point. But neither of them had gotten an email telling them they were no longer welcome at meetings. And even if they had, they weren’t going anywhere. Because they wouldn’t miss this for the world.

That sentiment was not appreciated by all, however. Because there was one set of eyes in particular that bore into them more than the rest, and they had since the moment they’d first walked in.

Buck was pointedly choosing to ignore it.

Eddie was not. Taking a page out of the other’s book, he waved.

Sputtering in indignation, Cathy’s expression turned thunderous. Not even bothering to politely dismiss herself from her previous conversation with another parent, she marched herself over to where the two were sitting, stopping just short of barreling into them.

“You need to leave,” she hissed, jutting a finger into Buck’s face despite it being a demand made to both of them.

“Then I guess you should’ve sent out an email telling us not to come,” he drawled, waving his hand until she removed her finger. Turning to Buck, he asked, “Did you get an email?”

Shaking his head, Buck practically batted his eyelashes as he innocently replied, “I didn’t get an email.”

“We didn’t get an email,” Eddie finished with a wry smile, shifting his arm to place it around Buck’s shoulder, pulling him close. “And we all know how much you love to send those.”

Previously, Buck had thought it was impossible for the woman to get any angrier. And he had been wrong. “You know,” she began, face burning a bright shade of red, “that first meeting, I would’ve expected someone to mention any other prospective partners they were keeping rather than going on and on about their dead wife. Especially when I was specifically asking about if we could expect someone else to fill in for you due to your ‘busy’ work schedule.”

Eyes flickering over to Buck with a sharp smile and a biting tone, Cathy simpered, “I’m starting to see why he didn’t think you were worth mentioning.”

A small snort of laughter escaped Buck before he could stop it because... Ok. Maybe her words would’ve hurt more coming from someone else. Someone worth respecting.

Eddie was not nearly as amused. Body stiffening and the hand on Buck’s shoulder tightening, it was the only warning anyone got for what followed:

“Listen,” he sneered, tone low and dangerous, “if you’ve been going after my boyfriend to fulfill some weird power-fantasy of being the bully you were too much of a loser to be in high school, I don’t think you need me to tell you how fucking sad that is.”

The shift from tolerating to raging hostility was instantaneous, and as a woman who’d never had her own shit flung back in her face, she was left reeling. “I-I...” she stuttered, looking to Buck of all people for an assist. When she didn’t get it—Buck in far too much awe to even consider it—she gritted out, “I was not a loser in high school.”

And Eddie laughed. He threw his head back, smiling from ear to ear, and he laughed. “For that of all things to be what you focus on... maybe you weren’t one then, but you’re sure as hell one now.” Suddenly sobering, he finished, “Stay the hell away from my family.”

The room fell into tense silence confirming what Buck had pretty much already suspected about this PTA chapter’s propensity for eavesdropping. And as Cathy stared them down, vein on her forehead pulsing and steam practically coming out of her ears, he was briefly convinced the woman was about to reach out and smack one of them.

Before it could escalate, however, the door to the classroom swung open and Johanna walked in with a manilla folder and a mission.

It’s time.

“Is everyone here?” she called, not waiting for an answer before sauntering up to the front of the room and taking her place behind a tall wooden stool the PTA used as a makeshift podium. “I have an announcement.”

“Johanna,” Cathy breathed, paling at the sight of the folder and the realization accompanying it, “what are you—”

“Shut the fuck up, Catherine,” the woman said, pulling out some spreadsheets of particular interest and presenting them to the group. “Tell me, does anyone know the definition of ‘Fraud.’ Or—here’s another fun one— ‘Theft’?”

A confused collection of murmurs rippled through the crowd, each and every one of them wondering what the hell was going on. All but Cathy that is. Frozen in shock and horror, her feet remained rooted where they were as Johanna pulled out spreadsheet after spreadsheet.

“I audited every purchase made by this chapter the last three years, and since I have an accounting background ,” casting non-subtle glare Brianna’s way, Johanna visibly delighted in the way the other woman seemed to shirk away from her, “I actually know how to do that. And, unfortunately, I have to be the one to inform the rest of you that we’ve been robbed.”

Just then, the door opened again. But this time, two police officers came walking in.

“There, officers,” Johanna said, pointing directly to Cathy, “that one right there.”

“Um...” Eddie sunk back into his seat as he murmured to the other, “did you know she’d be involving the police?”

Shaking his head, stunned, Buck replied, “I, uh... no. No, I didn’t.”

“Huh.”

“Please,” they heard Cathy begged the cops, tears welling up in her eyes as she was handcuffed, “there’s been some kind of mistake—"

“Oh, save it!” Johanna yelled, turning back to address the rest of the room, “So the next time you dipshits decided to cast your ballots, maybe think long and hard about not voting like complete dumbasses!”

And this was around the same time Buck was starting to suspect that—perhaps—Cathy was not the only reason Johanna hadn’t won reelection last year...

But no matter how callous the woman’s words may have been, they did their job. One by one, slowly but surely, each and every one of the parents inside that classroom turned on their president. And they were pissed.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘robbed’?”

“Cathy, what the hell is she talking about?”

“Is that why we had to do so much fundraising? I missed my mom’s funeral for one of those goddamned bake sales!”

And as the room descended into chaos—as questions turned into accusations, and yelling became shoving —Buck and Eddie remained seated, watching from afar as the cops tried and failed to get the situation back under control.

“...hey, Buck?”

“Yes, Eddie?”

“Let’s leave.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Rising from their seats without uttering a word more, they departed, neither fully convinced they hadn’t just made things ten times worse. Sort of like sharting in an elevator right before getting off on your floor.

“We can’t keep going to these meetings,” Eddie panted as the two sprinted back to the jeep. 

Wrenching open the driver’s side, Buck concurred with a quick nod, “Yeah. I’m ok with that. Besides—that’ll just gives the two of us more time to go after our next target.”

Brow furrowing as he watched the man with nothing but suspicion, Eddie warily ventured, “Which is?”

With a mischievous glint in his eyes and a shit-eating grin, he announced with a sarcastic amount of deference, “The HOA.”

Eddie groaned.

Buck laughed.

And as the two hopped into the car, plugging in the GPS coordinates to the nearest drive-thru as they buckled into their seats, the two couldn’t help but find one another’s stare, each feeling the same emotion well up from deep within themselves. It was safe and warm. It was love.

“Alright,” Eddie relented with a sigh, though, the fondness in his expression betrayed him. With a smile etched into his face to match the warmth in his eyes, he said, “So what’s the plan?”