Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The locker room was too quiet.

Buck could hear the metallic echo of his own door as he swung it shut, the soft squeak of hinges that hadn’t been oiled in years, and the faint sound of Eddie’s laughter drifting in from the loft above. Once, that sound would’ve had Buck bounding up the stairs, inserting himself into whatever story Eddie was telling—half the time he wasn’t even invited, but that had never stopped him.

Now, it just reminded him of the silence that fell whenever he entered the room.

Two weeks. That was how long it had been since he had been back on to work. Since the paperwork cleared, since the department reinstated him after the lawsuit debacle. Two weeks of clocking in, clocking out, responding to calls, and trying to ignore the way every interaction with the 118 felt like a business meeting.

They weren’t cruel—not exactly. Nobody snapped at him or shut him down outright. But there was no warmth. No teasing. No “Buck, grab me a sandwich” or “Hey, you’re cooking with me today.” The only conversations were clipped, professional: “You take the hose.” “Cover the rear.” “Check vitals.”

And then silence.

The worst part was that Buck couldn’t blame them. He’d sued the city. Sued the department. Sued Bobby. Even though the suit hadn’t been personal—not really—it might as well have been. Buck had tried to convince himself, at the time, that it was about justice, about fairness, about protecting future firefighters from what had happened to him. But somewhere along the way, it had turned into a wedge driven straight into the middle of his family.

And they’d let the wedge stick.

Buck tied his boots a little too tight, then loosened them with a frustrated tug. He sat there for a moment, staring at the floor tiles, willing himself not to feel the ache in his chest. He could handle this. He was good at bouncing back, wasn’t he? That’s what Buck did. He bounced.

Except now, when he bounced, no one was there to catch him.

The first call of the day came in twenty minutes later. A two-car collision off the 101. Buck slid into his seat on the rig, across from Hen and Chim. Eddie sat beside him, scrolling through something on his phone.

Buck tried. He always tried.

“Anyone else think traffic’s been extra brutal this week?” he asked, aiming for casual.

Hen glanced up, then back down at the tablet in her lap. “That’s L.A. for you,” she said flatly.

Chim didn’t even look up.

Eddie gave him a brief nod, polite but distant.

And then silence.

Buck leaned back against the bench, forcing himself to shut his mouth. He’d learned quickly that every attempt at conversation landed like a pebble in a void—bouncing once, twice, then gone.

On scene, the work was seamless. It always was. Years of training and instinct had hardwired them to operate like a machine. Eddie took one car, Buck the other. Bobby barked orders, Hen stabilized vitals, Chim cracked a joke—only it wasn’t for Buck anymore.

Buck pulled a teenager out of the driver’s seat, murmuring reassurance as he fitted a C-collar around her neck. She clutched his hand, terrified, and he stayed with her until the second ambulance arrived. That part, at least, never changed. Out here, with strangers’ lives in his hands, Buck still felt like himself.

But when the girl was loaded into the ambulance and the adrenaline ebbed, he looked up to find his team already regrouping. No one called for him. No one looked back. He jogged over, falling into step a half-beat late, the outsider in his own family. Was it his family anymore?

Back at the station, Buck grabbed a protein bar from his bag and made for the loft. He hesitated halfway up the stairs when he heard voices—Hen, Chim, Eddie—all laughing about something.

“…and then Denny told him, ‘That’s not a monster, that’s just Chim!’”

Roaring laughter.

Buck’s chest squeezed. He remembered that story. He’d been there when Denny said it. Only now, they told it like he hadn’t existed.

He hovered too long on the stairs, because the laughter abruptly stopped. Hen glanced over. Eddie’s eyes flickered to him and away again. Chim cleared his throat.

Buck forced a grin. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Hen said smoothly, turning back to her coffee.

And just like that, the warmth vanished.

Later, in the apparatus bay, Buck found himself staring at the team. His team. He used to know every story, every reason why everyone laughed, every single inside joke that was made. Now, he just felt like an unwanted guest.

He leaned against the rig, arms folded, and wondered—not for the first time—if coming back had been a mistake. Maybe the 118 had moved on. Maybe there wasn’t room for him anymore. Maybe he should transfer, put everyone out of their misery. 

The thought sliced deeper than he wanted to admit.

He closed his eyes, trying to shut it out. But in the quiet, the thoughts still crept in, unbidden, stubborn.

What if this is it?

What if they never forgive me?

Buck swallowed hard, pushing away from the rig. He couldn’t let himself spiral. Not here. Not now. He just had to hold it together, one shift at a time.

Maybe he should go with the alternative? Walking away? Leaving them behind for good?

But the problem? He wasn’t sure he had it in him.

So Buck did what he always did: he plastered on a smile, squared his shoulders, and walked back inside.

And no one noticed the way his heart sank a little further with every step.

Chapter Text

The apartment door rattled when Buck closed it behind him, a sharp clack echoing through the loft. He dropped his bag inside, kicked off his boots, and collapsed onto the couch. His muscles ached from the shift, but his chest felt heaviest.

Another day. Another twenty-four hours where the job felt like a job instead of a family. Another day of silence instead of laughter.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to shake it off. He’d survived worse—crushed by a ladder truck, a tsunami—and somehow kept bouncing back. But loneliness was a different kind of injury. It didn’t bleed or bruise. It hollowed you out until you weren’t sure what was left.

He was halfway to reheating leftovers when a knock sounded at the door.

He froze. Nobody knocked at his apartment. Maddie had a key. The 118 hadn’t stopped by in months. And Eddie—Eddie was good at pretending Buck’s front door didn’t exist.

Buck frowned, pushed himself away from the counter and padded barefoot across the room. He opened the door cautiously.

A girl stood on the other side. Thirteen, maybe fourteen. Skinny, elbows sharp under a faded sweatshirt, long brown hair that looked like it hadn’t seen a brush in days. She clutched a backpack to her chest like armor. Her eyes—startling blue—looked at him with something between fear and stubborn determination.

“Uh,” Buck managed. “Can I help you?”

The girl swallowed. For a second she looked like she might bolt. Instead she dug into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She held it out with shaking hands.

“I think you’re my dad,” she said.

Buck stared.

The world tilted. Dad? He was barely surviving as Buck the firefighter, Buck the screw-up—the one the 118 couldn’t look in the eye. Dad wasn’t even in the same solar system.

His fingers went numb as he reached for the paper. It was a birth certificate, creased and yellowed. In neat type: Father — Evan Buckley.

His name.

Buck’s heart stuttered. “I…what? How—how is this—”

“My mom, Veronica Wright,” the girl said, voice thin but steady. “She had me in high school. Gave me up. I found my birth certificate online, then found her. She told me who you were and gave me your last known address. After a trail of breadcrumbs, I found this place… I asked her if she wanted me and she said she didn’t. So I came here to find you.” She paused. “I’ve been in foster care…”

Buck’s mouth went dry. He waved her in and sank onto the couch, the paper trembling in his hands. A daughter. All these years, and no one had told him. The girl’s mother hadn’t. And this kid—his kid—had spent thirteen years in the system because no one thought to tell him.

Guilt washed over him sharp and physical.

“How long have you been in foster care?” he asked softly.

“Since I was a baby,” she said, hugging her backpack. “Thirteen years. Nobody ever wanted me. Not for good, anyway.” She shrugged, like it was a fact she’d learned to swallow. “I was hoping you might… let me stay with you?”

Buck’s throat closed.

If he’d known—God, if he’d known—he would’ve fought to keep her. He would’ve worked two jobs, three jobs; he would’ve figured it out. Anything would’ve been better than letting her grow up feeling unwanted. He knew that feeling and would never want his child to go through it.

He set the paper on the table and crossed to her slowly, careful as if approaching a wounded animal. He crouched to meet her eye-level.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I swear I didn’t know. If I had, I never—” He couldn’t finish. “You would’ve been with me. Always.”

For the first time, her eyes softened. “You mean that?”

“More than anything,” Buck said. “I can’t take back those years. But if you’ll let me…I’ll be here now. You won’t ever be alone again.”

She studied him, wary, weighing his words. Finally she nodded. “My name’s Emma. Emma Faith Jones.”

“Emma,” Buck repeated, tasting the name like something sacred. “I’m Buck. Evan. Or…Dad, I guess. Whatever you want.” He gave a quick, embarrassed laugh. “Evan Buckley. My parents didn’t give me a middle name.”

Emma’s mouth twitched. “Buck’s fine,” she said. “For now.”

He laughed, a wet sound, and wiped his face. “Okay. Buck it is.”

“I’ll contact a lawyer,” he said after a breath. “We’ll do whatever it takes—documents, tests. If you want to stay Jones, that’s fine. If you want to be a Buckley, we can change it. You get to choose.”

She nodded, then asked shyly, “What happens if the tests come back negative?” She looked away, afraid of the answer.

“If I’m not—well, good thing I’m a registered foster parent. You can stay with me either way, if you want. We might have to move,” he added with a rueful gesture toward the loft.

Her smile grew. Buck’s heart swelled. “You want me either way?” she asked, teary.

“I think we both need love. Together we could be a family.” He looked into her eyes, hoping she felt wanted for once.

She didn’t reply with words. She pulled him into a hug. “Buckley sounds nice,” she whispered.

The rest of the night passed in a haze. He made her grilled cheese with the last of the bread; she ate like she didn’t know when the next meal would come. He offered the couch and argued when she refused his bed, then piled blankets on the pull-out until it looked less like an afterthought and more like a nest.

They called a lawyer and were sent to a clinic for tests. In the meantime, Buck arranged for her to be placed with him through his foster certification—a surprisingly straightforward process since she was currently in a group home. She told him about bouncing from house to house, about the nurse who’d named her Jones, about birthdays no one remembered and the fear of aging out with nowhere to go.

Every word was a knife.

Buck told her about his travels, about Maddie, about the job—careful to leave out the lawsuit. He wanted her to think he had it together, that she hadn’t chosen a sinking ship.

When she finally drifted off, curled in blankets with her backpack still clutched, Buck sat on the edge of the couch and watched her breathe.

His daughter. His responsibility. His chance to do something right.

For the first time in weeks—maybe months—he felt a spark of purpose.

He didn’t know how he’d make it work. He barely knew how to keep himself upright most days. But looking at Emma, one thing was certain:

He would not fail her.

Not now. Not ever.

Chapter Text

The sound of rustling paper woke him.

Buck blinked blearily and found Emma sitting cross-legged on the floor across the loft, her backpack spilled open at her feet. She was carefully folding and unfolding her birth certificate, smoothing the creases with small, deliberate fingers. It looked too big in her hands. Too heavy.

He pushed himself upright, his neck stiff from sleeping in a crooked position on the edge of the couch. He wanted her to get a good night's sleep after traveling to him, even though she’d insisted she was fine. He wanted to show her that she was important. Now, in the soft morning light, she looked younger, the set of her shoulders less guarded. Buck couldn’t help but smile; he knew he had made the right choice.

“You hungry?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Emma startled, then gave him a small nod.

Buck padded barefoot to the kitchen, opening cabinets that were embarrassingly bare. A half box of cereal, some peanut butter, stale bread. He sighed. How was this supposed to be a home for a kid? He’d been feeling down about the lawsuit and hadn’t really cared about cooking. That wasn’t going to cut it anymore.

“Toast okay?”

She shrugged. “I usually just get whatever they give me.”

Something in her tone made his chest ache. She didn’t expect choice. Didn’t expect care.

“Well,” Buck said firmly, pulling out the bread, “you get a choice here. Jelly or peanut butter?”

Her lips twitched into the smallest smile. “Both?”

“Both it is.”

Later, when Emma was absorbed in the TV, Buck stood in the corner of the loft with his phone in hand. He’d already missed roll call. He needed to call Bobby.

His thumb hovered over the screen. What was he supposed to say? Hey Cap, I can’t make it in because my thirteen-year-old daughter I never knew existed just showed up on my doorstep last night.

Yeah. No.

Not happening. They would probably judge him for being reckless.

He pressed call.

“Buck?” Bobby’s voice came through, steady, a hint of annoyance.

“Hey, Cap.” Buck cleared his throat, forcing a rasp. “Listen, I’m not feeling great. Fever, chills. I think I should sit today out.”

There was a pause long enough for Buck’s stomach to twist. “You’re sick.”

“Yeah.” Buck coughed weakly, exaggerating. Emma glanced over the couch, one eyebrow raised as if she could see right through him.

“Fine. One shift.”

Buck exhaled, relief washing through him. “Yeah, of course. Thanks, Cap.” He ended the call quickly, guilt prickling at the back of his neck.

Lying to Bobby felt wrong. But right now, Emma came first.

One shift turned into two. Then three. Each morning, Buck picked up the phone, repeated the lie, and felt Bobby’s patience wearing thinner.

But every day with Emma cemented his resolve.

They went grocery shopping, Emma trailing behind him with wide eyes as he tossed boxes and bags into the cart. “Pick some things you like,” he urged when she hesitated.

She reached for a box of Lucky Charms, then pulled her hand back. “That’s too expensive.”

Buck grabbed it and dropped it in the cart without a second thought. “You’re worth it. I don’t know what you like, so never look at the price. Just ask me. If I can’t afford it, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

Her eyes went glassy. She nodded and then turned away quickly.

Back at the loft, they cooked together—or tried to. They both laughed when Emma burned the grilled cheese, the sound bright and foreign in his apartment. He made a mental note to teach her how to cook. At night, they sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through her small pile of belongings. She spoke more about her life growing up, and Buck listened, each word carving new guilt into him.

If he’d known. God, if he’d known.

Friday afternoon, the envelope from the clinic arrived. Buck stared at it for a long time before opening it, his heart hammering.

Emma sat curled on the couch, hugging her knees. She pretended to watch TV, but her eyes flickered constantly toward the envelope in his hands.

He tore it open with shaking fingers. The words blurred for a moment before settling into focus: Probability of Paternity – 99.9%.

A laugh broke out of him, startled and wet. He pressed the paper to his chest. “Emma,” he choked. “It’s official. You’re mine.”

Her breath hitched. “You’re really my dad?”

Buck dropped to his knees in front of her, cupping her shoulders. “I am, if you want me to be. I’ll file for full custody. No more group homes. No more foster homes. You and me. This is your home now.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and then she launched herself into his arms. “Okay,” she whispered fiercely. “Okay.”

Buck held her close, burying his face in her hair, his own tears slipping free.

By Monday, Bobby’s patience snapped.

“Buck,” his voice crackled through the phone, sharp and unyielding, “you’ve missed three shifts. You need to tell me what’s going on.”

Buck pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing the kitchen. Emma was at the table, sketching quietly, pretending not to listen.

“I just needed some time,” Buck said, his voice low. “I’ll be back next week.”

“Needed time for what?”

“Personal stuff.” His voice cracked, betraying more than he meant.

There was a long silence. When Bobby spoke again, his tone was softer but firm. “You don’t take time off. We used to have to force you to go home sick when you had the flu. Three days voluntarily taking leave? Buck, what’s going on?”

Buck closed his eyes. He wanted to tell him. He wanted to say the words. But the thought of both him and Emma being exposed to more rejection and judgment made his chest seize.

“What’s going on?” Buck snapped. “You don’t get to ask me that, Bobby, not anymore. No one has barely spoken to me since I’ve been back, so if you all don’t want me in your life, you don’t get to know what’s going on in mine. I’ll be back next week, Monday’s shift. This week, I’m still taking off.” He said firmly, hanging up the phone before Bobby could respond.

He glanced over at Emma, who was looking at him wide-eyed. He gave a shy smile and walked over to her, explaining in a more kid-friendly manner about the past months.

“So, yeah. It hasn’t been great. But it will be eventually,” Buck said softly. “Besides, I have you now.” He smiled.

“Are you going to forgive them? They’re your family, right?” Emma asked carefully.

“I’m not sure. I filed the lawsuit, and I apologized. They don’t want to accept it. Now they just don’t talk to me.” He took a deep breath. “It hurts. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but whatever happens, you and me, okay?” Buck said to his daughter.

“I think you should make them grovel,” Emma said with a smirk. Buck burst into laughter. God, he loved this kid.

Custody paperwork was a nightmare. Forms, signatures, court dates. Buck spent hours at the courthouse, Emma waiting beside him, her backpack never leaving her lap. He was just glad he was her biological father, so it should be approved easily. He submitted the paperwork and was told he would need to have stable housing, a separate room for Emma before the court date, and a pre-approval letter for high school.

Buck swallowed. House. School. He could do this.

That night, after Emma had gone to bed, Buck sat at his laptop scrolling through real estate listings. Two-bedroom apartments, fixer-upper condos, even small houses miles from downtown. None of them felt right, but he kept looking, driven by the image in his head: Emma’s name on the door, posters on her walls, a desk with her homework scattered across it.

“Whatcha doing?” Emma’s sleepy voice startled him. She walked into the room, her hair rumpled.

“Nothing,” he said too quickly, snapping the laptop halfway shut.

She tilted her head, unimpressed. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Buck sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looking for a place. Bigger. With a room for you.”

Her eyes widened. “A room… for me?”

“Of course.” His voice softened. “You deserve a space that’s yours. Not alternating between a bed and a couch. Not borrowed blankets. A room.”

Her lip trembled. “I’ve never had my own room before. I always had to share.”

Buck’s chest cracked wide open. “Then we’ll make it perfect. Any color you want. Whatever posters you like. It’ll be yours. We will also need to get you some things, clothes, some things you enjoy. I know you enjoy drawing, I have seen you sketch. School supplies.” 

She smiled then, shy but radiant, and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

Buck hugged her back, blinking hard against tears. For the first time in so long, he didn’t feel like he was falling. He felt like he was building something.

But as he stood in the dark loft later that night, listening to Emma’s even breathing from the couch, a cold thought settled in the back of his mind.

Eventually, the 118 would find out.

Bobby. Eddie. Hen. Chim. All of them.

Would they support him? Or would they see Emma as another reckless mistake, another reason to keep their distance?

Buck didn’t know.

All he knew was this: Emma came first. Always.

No matter what it cost him.

Chapter Text

Scrolling through house listings was starting to feel like a second job. Buck sat hunched over his laptop at the kitchen counter, eyes blurring as he clicked through yet another photo of yet another overpriced condo with a fridge shinier than a fire truck. None of them felt right. Too small, too sterile, too not theirs.

Emma walked over quietly, a bowl of Lucky Charms in hand. She leaned just enough to peek at the screen without making it obvious. She lingered on the photos with trees in the yard or bedrooms with wide windows. Whenever Buck clicked on the immaculate white houses staged for magazines, she pulled back slightly, shoulders curling.

He noticed.

“What about this one?” he asked, stopping on a three-bedroom tucked in a decent neighborhood. The pictures weren’t glamorous; the porch sagged, the kitchen tiles cracked, and the walls were painted a shade of beige that made him feel sad just looking at it. But there was space, real space, and the price was low enough to almost seem like a misprint. With what he would get from his loft, he could afford renovations.

Emma tilted her head. “It looks… tired.”

“Yeah,” Buck admitted, “but it’s got good bones.”

She snorted. “How do you even know that?”

He grinned. “Because I can see what it could be. Sometimes you just have to look past the ugly.”

Her expression softened as she stared at the photos again, longer this time. “Can we see it?”

“Yeah,” Buck said, already reaching for his phone. “We can see it.”

The next day, the real estate agent met them outside the house. She was tiny and professional, all business in a navy blazer, but her smile widened when Buck introduced Emma as his daughter.

Inside, the house smelled like lemon cleaner and dust. The floors were scratched, the walls dinged, but sunlight poured through a wide front window, filling the living room with warmth. Buck’s chest loosened. It didn’t have to be perfect. It just had to be theirs.

Emma wandered, running her hand along the battered banister. She peeked into the smallest bedroom at the back, with a window that overlooked a large tree. She sat down cross-legged on the floorboards and looked up at him. “Could this be my room?”

“If you want it,” Buck said.

She gave the smallest nod, and for the first time, he saw her imagining herself somewhere long term.

The agent rattled off details about square footage, the roof being recently replaced, plumbing updated a few years back. “The seller’s family moved out of state,” she explained. “They want a quick, clean sale. If you’re interested, we can move fast.”

“I am,” Buck said without hesitation.

“Are you dependent on selling your loft?” she asked.

Buck nodded. “Yeah, I’d have to sell it first.”

Her smile was confident. “I might already have a buyer. Someone lost out on another apartment in your building just last week. If your place is similar, we can skip a lot.”

Buck blinked. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she said.

Emma’s laughter slipped out before she could stop it. Buck looked at her, and his chest tightened. This could work. Maybe this time the universe was on his side.

Back at the loft, the agent did a walk-through. Buck felt a pang looking at the exposed brick, the high ceilings. This loft had been the first place he’d ever called his own. But it was small, too small now. It wasn’t meant for a family.

“This will go quickly; it looks similar. My client will most likely be interested,” the agent promised. “I’ll draft an offer tonight.”

And she was right. By evening, Buck had a full-price offer on the loft. No doubts. No games.

The next morning, his phone rang. The agent’s voice was bright. “Congratulations. Your offer on the three-bedroom was accepted. The seller signed this morning. With everyone motivated, we could close in thirty days.” She paused. “I mentioned to the owner you were wanting to do renovations. They have also offered that if you sign a waiver, you can begin renovating straight after the contracts are signed. You can have the keys before settlement.”

Buck stared at the phone, stunned. “You’re kidding. That’s amazing!”

“Not at all. Better start packing.”

He looked at Emma, sitting cross-legged on the couch with her sketchbook. He pressed the speaker button.

“Emma?” the agent said warmly. “You’re going to have a bedroom soon.”

Emma’s pencil dropped to the floor. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, eyes wide. “We got it?”

“We did,” Buck said, his voice breaking with the weight of it. “We’re getting a house.”

She blinked fast, like she wasn’t sure if tears were allowed. “Our house?” she whispered.

“Our house,” Buck echoed.

She launched herself at him, arms tight around his waist. He held her close, burying his face in her hair. He could feel her shaking against him, and it nearly undid him.

That night, Buck stood in the middle of the loft and tried to say goodbye. He remembered bringing Maddie here the first time, remembered Eddie and Christopher coming over for pizza, remembered the quiet nights where it had been just him. This place had saved him once.

But it had never been meant for two.

He turned to Emma, curled up with a blanket and already making a list of things for her room in her notebook. She looked up at him, eyes bright, and he realized the loft had done its job. It had carried him until he was ready for something more.

Now it was time to move on.

The email arrived, tucked between an ad for patio furniture and a notification from his real estate agent. Buck almost missed it, but the subject line stopped him cold:

“Pre-Acceptance Notification: West Valley High School.”

His pulse stuttered. He clicked it open and read every line twice.

Emma had been given conditional acceptance pending residency proof and custody paperwork into a local high school with a strong arts program, just a short bus ride from their soon-to-be house. They chose this one, given the strong pull toward art.

Buck sat back in his chair, the words blurring as something inside him eased. School hadn’t been kind to him, but Emma deserved better. She deserved a place to start fresh, to belong.

“Emma,” he called softly.

She walked out of her makeshift room, hair mussed, pencil smudges across her fingers. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been pre-accepted to West Valley High.”

Her brow furrowed. “Pre-accepted?”

“It means once the court signs off and we move, it’s official. You’ll start.”

Emma blinked. “Like… an actual school? Where I get to stay permanently, not just for a week?”

“Yeah,” Buck said, throat tight. “Your school, from now on, no changing.”

For a second, she didn’t move. Then she let out a shaky laugh that cracked in the middle, like she didn’t know if she was supposed to believe it. She turned quickly, muttering something about grabbing her sketchbook. But Buck caught the way her shoulders trembled.

The court date came faster than he expected. The morning of, Buck found himself fussing with his tie like it was a snake trying to strangle him. Emma sat at the kitchen counter, watching him with mild amusement.

“You look fine,” she said.

“I look like I’m about to beg a judge not to ruin my entire life.”

“That’s exactly how you’re supposed to look.”

He shot her a look, but she grinned, a spark of teenage sass that made him laugh despite the nerves.

The courthouse was intimidating: high ceilings, marble floors. Buck held Emma’s hand tighter than he probably needed to, but she didn’t pull away.

Their lawyer met them outside the courtroom, reassuring but brisk. “We’ve got everything filed: foster certification, school, DNA confirmation, financial stability. The fact that you already have a buyer for your loft and a new house under contract shows stability. The judge will like that.”

Buck nodded, heart hammering. He’d been through rescues, disasters, near-death experiences. Nothing had ever scared him like this.

Inside, the judge peered at him over half-moon glasses. “Mr. Buckley, you’re petitioning for full custody of Emma Faith Jones, correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge flipped through papers. “You’ve been certified as a foster parent for a year. You’ve completed the paternity test—positive. You’re employed full-time with the Los Angeles Fire Department?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your hours are irregular, dangerous.” The judge’s tone sharpened. “How do you intend to provide stability?”

Buck straightened. “By being there. By showing up. I’ve already arranged support; a caretaker has given me details of a babysitter for my overnights. I also have my sister who lives nearby; I have family and friends nearby. My job allows for family medical leave if needed. My boss is flexible with family emergencies, and my daughter will never spend another night wondering if she belongs. She belongs with me. I will make it work.” He left out that none of his friends and family knew, but they would be there, wouldn’t they?

Emma squeezed his hand under the table.

The judge studied them for a long moment, eyes moving from Buck’s taut frame to Emma’s steady gaze. Finally, he set the papers down. “Custody granted. Effective immediately.”

The gavel came down with a crack that echoed through Buck’s chest.

Outside, Buck crouched in the hallway, papers shaking in his hands. Emma stood frozen, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes wide.

“You did it,” she whispered.

“No,” Buck said, pulling her into his arms. “We did it. You’re officially stuck with me.”

She laughed through her tears, muffled against his chest. “I have never had anyone.”

When she pulled back, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve, then took the papers from his hand. “Can I… can I change my name now?”

The lawyer smiled kindly. “You can file for it today if you’d like.”

Emma looked at Buck. Her eyes were shining, but there was steel there too. “I want to be a Buckley.”

Buck’s vision blurred. “Emma Faith Buckley,” he said, tasting the name, letting it sink into the air like a promise. “It fits.”

She nodded. “Yeah. It does.”

The paperwork for the name change was easy after filing for custody, just another set of forms and signatures. But when Emma wrote it out herself—Emma Faith Buckley—her hand trembled. She stared at the words as if memorizing them.

Later, in the car, she whispered it under her breath, testing it, smiling at how it felt.

“Hey,” Buck said gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Emma shook her head firmly. “I know; I believe you.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

That night, Buck cooked dinner—pasta with too much garlic bread—and brought out two sodas for toasts. They sat cross-legged on the floor, the papers spread between them like trophies.

“To us,” Buck said, raising his glass.

“To us,” Emma echoed, clinking hers against his.

They drank their sodas, and for the first time in years—maybe ever—Buck felt something unshakable settle inside him.

Emma wasn’t a maybe anymore. She wasn’t paperwork in limbo or a secret he was scared to lose. She was his daughter. His family.

And she carried his name.

That night, when he checked on her before bed, she was sprawled across the couch with her sketchbook. On the fresh page, she’d written it again and again in looping letters:

Emma Faith Buckley.

Buck closed his eyes, let the sight sink deep, and whispered, “You and me.”

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight filtered through the loft windows, spilling golden light across the floor where Emma sat cross-legged with her sketchbook. Buck leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee, watching her. There was a stillness to her when she drew, a quiet concentration that made her look older and younger all at once, like she was carrying too much and also letting it go through the tip of her pencil. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Today was important. Today was the first day she would get to feel like she wasn’t an afterthought.

“Hey,” he said finally, setting his mug down. Emma glanced up, a strand of hair falling into her eyes. “You know what we’re doing today?”

She tilted her head, cautious. “What?”

“Everything,” Buck said, spreading his arms with theatrical exaggeration. “Clothes, shoes, furniture, school supplies, a laptop, art stuff. Whatever you need. Whatever you want.”

Emma blinked, clearly thrown. “A laptop?”

“Yep, just for you. Maybe a haircut, if you want? Some paints and sketchpads and maybe even one of those fancy digital drawing tablets. Don’t argue, I’ve seen you with that sketchbook. You’re good. Better than good.”

Her cheeks went faintly pink. “That’s… that’s too much.”

Buck walked over and crouched in front of her, resting his arms on his knees so he could look her in the eye. “Emma. You’ve gone your whole life without someone putting you first. That stops now. You’re my kid, and you deserve all of it new clothes that fit, a room that’s yours, and the chance to actually enjoy things instead of just getting by. This isn’t too much. You aren’t too much. I missed out on so much, so I am making up for it. I won’t always give you everything you want, but right now we are playing catch up.” 

Her smiled shyly, she nodded, clutching the pencil tighter. He just gave her a soft smile, grabbed his keys, and said, “Come on. We’ve got shopping to do, and fun to be made!” 

The first stop was clothes. Buck had expected her to dart between racks with excitement, but instead Emma hovered at the entrance, wary. The rows of hoodies and jeans seemed like another world to her. He nudged her forward gently. “Go for it. Pick what you like. Anything.”

She reached out tentatively, pulling a purple hoodie off the rack and hugging it to her chest like she thought someone might take it back. “This one’s soft.”

“Perfect,” Buck said, grabbing a pair of jeans to match and tossing them over his arm. “Let’s add more.”

Eventually, she disappeared into the fitting room with an armful. Buck paced outside, waiting. When she finally stepped out in a new outfit, jeans that actually fit her shape instead of sagging, sneakers without holes, a bright shirt he froze. She looked like happier, lighter. Not the kid who had arrived at his door clutching a frayed backpack, but a girl stepping into who she could be.

“What do you think?” she asked hesitantly.

“I think you look amazing,” Buck said honestly. “Like you could run the world if you wanted to.”

Her mouth twitched, trying to fight off a smile, but it won. And that was all the permission Buck needed. By the time they reached the register, the pile was massive. Emma tried to argue, insisting it was too much, but Buck only shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

They loaded everything into bags and moved on. Shoes, jackets, accessories. Emma laughed for the first time that day when Buck put a ridiculous hat on his own head just to make her smile. Her laughter was quick, surprised, like she wasn’t used to hearing it come from herself, and Buck tucked the sound away to keep forever.

It wasn’t until the school supply aisle that the cracks showed. Buck was tossing notebooks and pens into the cart, asking her opinion on colors, when he realized Emma had gone still. She was holding a packet of pencils, frozen, her shoulders trembling.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, but tears welled up fast. “I don’t… I don’t understand this.”

Buck stepped away from the cart immediately, crouching down in front of her. “What don’t you understand?”

Her voice broke. “Why you’re doing all of this. Nobody’s ever… cared what I wanted. I always got leftovers, whatever was cheapest. And now you’re just,” She sucked in a shaky breath, pressing her hands to her eyes. “It’s too much. I don’t know how to handle it.”

The sight of her breaking in the middle of the aisle nearly shattered Buck. He didn’t care who was watching. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. “Hey, hey. Listen to me. You deserve this. Every hoodie, every pencil, every stupid pair of socks. You deserve to have things that are yours, not just what’s left over. You deserve to feel wanted. And I want you, Emma. You’re mine, and I love you, and you will never be too much for me.”

She clung to him, her face buried in his shoulder, sobbing quietly. Buck rocked her gently, murmuring into her hair. “You don’t have to know how to accept it right now. Just let me show you, little by little. Let yourself be loved.”

When she finally pulled back, sniffling, her eyes were red but steadier. “Okay,” she whispered, as if she was promising herself as much as him.

Buck smiled, brushing her hair back gently. “Okay.”

After that, she held his hand through most of the store, grip firm like she was afraid he might disappear. He squeezed back every few steps, silently promising he never would.

Later, in the art supply store, she began to loosen again. Surrounded by paints and brushes, Emma’s eyes lit up in a way Buck hadn’t seen before. She picked things carefully, slowly, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to want them. Buck added extras she didn’t reach for charcoal pencils, a proper easel, a digital drawing tablet she tried to insist was unnecessary.

“Dad,” she said finally, slipping the word out without realizing. She froze, startled at herself.

Buck swallowed hard, but smiled, pretending not to make it a big deal so she wouldn’t retreat. But inside he was so full of love “Yeah?”

“This is too much,” she said softly, almost pleading.

He leaned on the cart. “Not when it’s for you.”

Her eyes shimmered, but she didn’t argue again.

Their final stop was Target. They wandered the aisles, loading up furniture and lamps, Emma gleefully testing desk chairs by spinning in circles until she was dizzy. Buck laughed and pretended to take serious notes on which lamp gave off the “right academic glow.” It felt almost normal, like this was something they’d always done together.

Emma drifted toward the backpacks, fingertips brushing the fabric as if trying to decide which one could possibly belong to her. Buck was about to ask if she wanted the blue one or the purple when a familiar voice cut through the air.

“Buck!”

The sound of his name in that high, excited tone made Buck’s heart stop. He spun just as Christopher came barreling toward him, crutches hitting the floor, grinning ear to ear. Buck barely had time to set down the box in his hands before Chris launched into his arms.

“Hey, buddy!” Buck laughed, scooping him up, hugging him tight. The familiar weight of Christopher in his arms hit him like a freight train, nearly undoing him right there in the aisle. He buried his face in the boy’s hair for a second, his throat tight, because God, he’d missed him.

When he finally looked up, Eddie was standing a few feet away, frozen. His eyes flickered from Buck, holding his son, to the teenage girl clutching a new backpack to her chest beside the cart. Emma, wide eyed, stared back at him.

Eddie’s brow furrowed, confusion sharp in his expression. He opened his mouth, his gaze cutting from Buck to Emma again.

“Who’s that?” Eddie asked .

Chapter Text

The thing about big box stores was that they all smelled the same. Cardboard, plastic, stale popcorn from a snack counter Eddie swore he’d never buy from again. He pushed a cart down the school supplies aisle, pretending not to hover while Chris compared folders like he was choosing a college major.

Chris held up two options, both blue one with a lightning bolt, one plain.

“The bolt,” Eddie said with a smile.

Chris arched an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Positive. It’s fun.”

Chris rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, and the sight hit Eddie square in the chest the quiet click of rightness.

Then Chris straightened, eyes widening past Eddie’s shoulder. “Buck!”

The name burst out of him, bright and unguarded, and before Eddie could process it, Chris was gone abandoning the folders, his crutches tapping a happy rhythm as he barreled down the aisle. Instinct fired, and Eddie followed, heart hammering against his ribs.

And there he was.

Buck looked exactly the same and completely different. That stupidly bright smile that could light a power outage. That posture that always made space for anyone who needed it. But underneath, something steadier like something had shifted.

He caught Chris in a hug, eyes closing like he’d been starving for it. The sight landed in Eddie’s chest like a punch, all those weeks of silence between them bounced back at once. If he’d been braver. If he’d been better.

Eddie slowed as he reached them. Buck’s smile faltered when their eyes met, and the air between them tightened. Eddie had rehearsed a thousand things to say and landed on none.

Then he saw her.

A teenage girl stood at the end of Buck’s cart, fingers gripping the strap of a new backpack. Long brown hair, a careful stillness, eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. She looked like she might bolt and like she was determined not to.

“Who’s that?” Eddie asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

Buck’s gaze flicked to her and back. His throat worked. “Uh, this is Emma.”

The girl offered a small, brave nod. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Eddie said, softer this time. Something about her, her mouth, the blue of her eyes clicked a fraction too late, like a picture sliding into focus.

“She’s my daughter,” Buck said.

The words dropped between them, clean and final. Eddie stood still. For a moment all he could do was stare at Buck, at her, at the cart full of everything you’d need to start a life before he remembered how to breathe.

“Your… daughter,” he repeated, until Chris, bless him, saved the moment from freezing solid.

“Hi, Emma,” Chris said brightly, leaning on his crutches. “Do you like the backpacks with the extra side pockets? They’re good for snacks.”

Her mouth quirked, surprise loosening her shoulders. “I do like snacks,” she said cheerfully.

“See?” Chris turned to his dad. “I told you extra pockets matter.”

“You did,” Eddie admitted, ears burning.

He looked back at Buck. Their eyes locked, and Eddie saw the question there, the warning, and something like hope caged behind it. He nodded small, but real. “Congratulations,” he said, and meant it so hard it nearly hurt. “That’s… that’s great.”

Buck blinked fast, relief flickering across his face. “Thanks.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Eddie had a thousand questions, a thousand apologies, and none of them belonged in the middle of a Target aisle.

“Do you guys want to check out and, uh, grab lunch?” Eddie asked, his voice low, unsure. “Kids can sit together. We can… arh talk. If you want.” Eddie asked hesitantly.

Buck hesitated. Eddie could see him doing the math the risk, the time, the chance of Eddie screwing it all up again. But Chris was already grinning at Emma like they’d been friends forever, and Emma kept darting looks between the two like she was testing the idea of saying yes.

“Lunch sounds good, I might have a made a new friend…” she said almost shyly, whispering it to Buck, but Eddie heard it. 

Buck looked at her, nodded and looked at Eddie, and finally nodded. “Okay. Lunch.”

They checked out quickly. Eddie insisted on paying for the food; Buck insisted on covering the kids’ drinks; somehow they ended up splitting fries and having an awkward laugh about it, it was normal, but yet different. 

They found a table near the window, sunlight spilling across them. The kids claimed one side immediately, already knee deep in a debate about favorite movies and Chris telling Emma to get a game so they can play online together. The sound of their chatter steadied Eddie’s hands more than he cared to admit.

Buck sat across from him. Close enough for Eddie to notice the tiny scar near his eyebrow, leftover from the tsunami, but far enough that reaching across the table would still leave space between them. Eddie folded and unfolded his napkin until the edge frayed.

“So,” he said finally. “Emma.”

Buck’s mouth softened. He glanced toward the girl as if gravity had reset itself in her direction. “Emma,” he echoed. “She showed up at my door. Birth certificate. Her mom told her who I was. We did a test. Confirmed.” His exhale shook. “She’s mine.”

The pride in his voice loosened something knotted behind Eddie’s ribs. “That’s… incredible, Buck.” He forced himself to meet his eyes. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.”

It was just one word, but the way Buck said it made Eddie want to bury his face in his hands for all the time he had wasted not saying anything at all.

The kids launched into an argument about spiral notebooks versus composition books. Emma argued for spiral because you could fold them back; Chris countered with composition because the spines didn’t snag on things. They sounded so serious, Eddie hoped this wouldn’t be the last time they all went out. He wanted this, then to all be together. 

He unwrapped his burger to have something to do with his hands. “I owe you an apology,” he blurted, because if he didn’t rip the bandage now, he never would. “For everything. For not talking to you. For not trying. For leaving you to stand in a room with people who used to be your family and not talk to you, pretending I couldn’t see you.” His voice thinned. “I was a really shitty friend.”

Buck didn’t look away. He didn’t rush to absolve him, either. He just let the words sit.

“I was scared,” Eddie admitted, the confession tumbling out now, too fast to stop. “Scared I wasn’t enough. Scared I’d say the wrong thing and make it worse. Scared of,” His throat worked. “Scared of what I feel, with everything that has happened recently, okay? I have been struggling, I’m still figuring everything out, and it isn’t fair to put that on you right now, but it’s the truth. I kept telling myself you were too good for me, that I wasn’t worth it, worth having a friend like you and I used that as an excuse to stay quiet.” He flattened his shaking hands under the table. “It was cowardly.”

A thousand memories flickered across Buck’s face. He looked like he wanted to reach across the table, and also like he was holding himself back. “Thank you,” he said finally. “For saying it.”

“I am sorry,” Eddie said again, because it was the only coin he had to pay with.

“I forgive you,” Buck said. It landed like a steadying hand against Eddie’s chest. Then Buck added, gentle but firm, “But we’re not back to before. Not yet.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

They ate for a while in careful quiet. Not bad, just… new. Fragile.

“So are you okay, with…” Eddie asked at last, nodding toward Emma.

Buck smiled “Yeah, it’s been a lot but in a good way. We got the paperwork sorted, she is officially in my full custody now” 

“And the 118? Does anyone know?” he asked, guilt clawing his spine.

“They don’t know about Emma. No one does.” Buck’s gaze pinned him. “Please don’t tell them yet.”

“You have my word.” Eddie said it without hesitation. “I won’t say a thing.” Eddie looked away, “I really am sorry.”

Buck didn’t answer right away. Emma laughed at something Chris said, big and surprised, like she’d just realized she was safe. Buck’s gaze softened instantly.

“I know,” he said again, quieter this time. “But I’m not ready to pretend nothing happened.”

“Then we don’t,” Eddie said, and meant it. “We can go at your pace.”

Something unreadable passed over Buck’s face. He nodded. 

Watching the kids talk about anything and every thing unclenched something deep in Eddie’s chest that had been tight for months.

“So you moved?” Eddie asked, putting pieces together the cart, the bags, the lack of space in his loft.

“Soon,” Buck said. “Have a buyer for the loft. Offer accepted on a house, three bedrooms, a little rough, but good bones, I’ll be doing a bit of renovations. Emma’s got a pre-acceptance at West Valley once we prove residency, and we filed the name change. It’s… arh been happening.” His smile went crooked, disbelieving.

The picture bloomed in Eddie’s mind: Emma in her room, Buck assembling a desk at 2 a.m. The smell of new beginnings. He wanted selfishly, badly to help. To earn his way back.

“Let me help,” he said before he could overthink it. “Renovations. Moving. Whatever. I know my way around a toolbox.”

Buck’s mouth twitched, into a half smile. “Who said I don’t?”

“You,” Eddie deadpanned. “Every time you’ve built anything.”

A huff of laughter escaped Buck the small kind Eddie had been starving for. “It would really help,” he admitted, careful but real.

“Then I’m there,” Eddie promised. “Paint, patch, demo. I’ll even read instructions.”

“Now I know you’re serious.”

The old ease flickered between them, fragile but alive. Eddie let it rest there.

The kids veered into superhero movies. Emma declared only if they were allowed to complain about the physics. Chris grinned like she’d passed a secret test. Eddie muttered, “Oh, you’ll fit right in,” and caught Buck smiling at them like his ribs couldn’t contain it.

They lingered until the kids were poking at melted ice and the crowd had thinned. When they stood, sunlight had shifted across the floor a new angle, a new hour. Maybe, if they were careful, a new start.

“Are you coming over soon?” Chris asked hopeful, looking at Buck.

Buck glanced at Eddie. Eddie didn’t push, just held the space open. Giving a small smile. 

“Yeah,” Buck said at last. Not big. But everything. “Soon.”

Eddie watched them for a beat, two kids beside two men who were trying, really trying and felt a quiet, unfamiliar hope take root.

“Text me the address,” he said as they reached the cars. “For the house, and when we are starting and I’ll bring pizza and my toolbox.”

Buck nodded. “Okay.”

It wasn’t before. Not yet. But it was forward. And for the first time in a long time, forward didn’t feel like falling.

It felt like maybe just maybe they could work on them, and eventually that could be better than what they had before. 

Chapter Text

The keys felt heavier than they should have. Just a few ounces of metal, jagged edges catching on Buck’s skin as he rolled them in his palm, but they anchored something bigger like responsibility, stability, a whole new life. He stood on the cracked porch of the little three bedroom house and stared at the front door like it might suddenly vanish if he blinked.

“You gonna open it,” Eddie said behind him, “or just vibe with the door for another ten minutes?”

Buck startled, turning. Eddie had a box tucked under one arm, his mouth curved in that half-smile that looked like it didn’t want to admit it was a smile at all. Christopher hovered by his side, leaning on his crutches with practiced ease. Emma stood just behind Buck, her backpack snug on her shoulders like always, eyes wide with cautious hope.

“Right. Yeah. Keys.” Buck fumbled with the lock, nerves buzzing. The door stuck at first it hadn’t been used much lately but then it swung open with a groan. Sunlight spilled across scuffed floors and beige walls, the smell of dust drifting out.

Emma’s breath hitched. She stepped inside slowly, like the floor might give way. “It’s ours now.” She smiled.

“Ours,” Buck confirmed, his voice rough. He wanted to scoop her up and spin her, but she was thirteen now and might die of embarrassment. Still, the urge nearly knocked him off his feet.

Chris followed her in, tapping his crutches against the floor. “Cool echo,” he announced, his voice bouncing off the empty rooms. “Like a secret base.”

Emma smiled, small but real. “Secret base sounds better than fixer-upper.”

Eddie chuckled, setting his box on the counter. “Fixer-upper’s just code for: Buck’s going to drag me into weeks of manual labor.”

Buck gave him a mock glare. “You offered.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes, but there was no bite in it. Only familiarity. “Wouldn’t want to do anything else.” He smiled, and Buck smiled back.

The kids disappeared toward the living room, already plotting how to arrange furniture they didn’t have yet. Buck lingered in the kitchen, running a hand over the battered counter. “It needs a lot of work,” he admitted.

Eddie joined him, shoulder brushing his. “Yeah. But it’s solid. Good bones.”

The words settled into Buck’s chest, grounding him. “That’s what I said!” He laughed. “Thanks for coming.”

“You think I’d let you tackle this alone?” Eddie said, quiet but firm. Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added: “Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t staple your hand to the drywall.”

Buck snorted, tension easing. “That was one time.”

“Once is enough.” Eddie smirked. “Come on, let’s start unloading.”

By mid afternoon, boxes cluttered the living room. Buck and Eddie had pried up the old carpet, revealing wood floors scratched but salvageable. Dust clung to their hair and shirts, their hands raw from hauling. Buck was rolling primer onto a wall, sweat dripping down his temple, when his brain finally let panic slip through.

“I have to go back tomorrow,” he blurted, roller pausing mid stroke.

Eddie looked up from where he was patching a crack. “Back?”

“To the station.” Buck dragged a hand through his hair, leaving a streak of white paint. “First shift back since… all of this. And I don’t know what to do with Emma. She’s thirteen, I can’t leave her alone for twenty four hours. I…” His chest tightened. “I can’t.”

Eddie set down his putty knife, wiping his hands on a rag. “Okay. Breathe.”

Buck dropped the roller into the tray, pacing. “I can’t ask Maddie she’s got Jee Yun, and Chim’s schedule is as crazy as yours. They don’t even know about Emma! And I don’t even know if Emma would be comfortable with,” His voice broke. “She just got me, Eddie. I can’t mess this up by leaving her.”

“You’re not messing anything up,” Eddie said firmly, crossing the room until he was in Buck’s space, grounding him with sheer presence. “You’re doing what you have to do your job. But you’re right, she can’t be alone that long. So we figure it out.”

Buck’s laugh was sharp and panicked. “Figure it out? With who? I don’t,” 

“Carla,” Eddie said, like it was obvious. “She already watches Chris when I’m on shift. And Abuela and Tía Pepa? They’d adopt Emma on the spot if you let them. They’re always begging for more excuses to fuss over someone, and you, Evan Buckley, are family. They’ve basically adopted you. Emma is thirteen, not three. Same age bracket as Chris. If they can handle him, they can handle her.”

Buck froze. “I can’t ask you, or them, to do that.”

“You don’t have to, I already am. Family helps each other.” Eddie pulled his phone out, thumbing through contacts. “We work the same shifts. Chris and Emma can just be together. It’s no different from what we already do. Plus they’ll keep each other entertained.”

Buck’s throat closed. “Eddie,”

“Shut up for a second,” Eddie said, pressing call. His Spanish spilled out fast and warm when Abuela picked up, explaining the situation. Buck caught words like Emma, nueva familia, ayudar, and then Abuela’s laugh, rich and delighted, carrying through the speaker. Pepa chimed in from the background, insisting they’d come by right away to see the new house. Eddie hung up, looking smug. “Told you. They’re in.”

Buck pressed a hand to his face. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say thank you,” Eddie suggested.

“Thank you,” Buck whispered, overwhelmed.

“Good,” Eddie said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now stop spiraling and pick up your roller. We still have three walls to go.”

By the time Abuela, Pepa, and Carla arrived, the house smelled like primer and pizza. Buck had panic ordered four large pizzas when the kids complained they were starving. Emma and Chris were on the floor of the living room, controllers in hand, shrieking at each other over the new video game Buck had splurged on for them to share. They’d set up an old TV just to entertain them. Something about racing cars and impossible jumps whatever it was, it had them laughing loud enough to shake the windows.

Abuela swept into the house like a queen, kissing Buck on both cheeks before he could protest. “Mi hijo,” she declared, “this house is perfect. And this,” She turned to Emma, eyes shining. “This must be your daughter.”

Emma blinked, startled, then stood quickly, brushing chip crumbs off her jeans. “Uh…hi.”

“Emma,” Buck said, voice thick, “this is Abuela, Eddie’s grandmother. And Pepa, his aunt. And Carla, Chris’s babysitter who’s basically family. They are our family.”

Emma hesitated, then offered a shy smile. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you?” Pepa scoffed, pulling her into a hug before she could react. “You’re family now. That means hugs.”

Emma’s eyes widened, and Buck saw her shoulders tremble the tiniest bit. But when she pulled back, she was still smiling, brighter this time.

Carla crouched down to Chris’s level, ruffling his hair. “So this is your new partner in crime, huh?”

Chris grinned. “Yep. She’s really good at racing games, but I still win sometimes.”

“Not for long,” Emma muttered, and Chris whooped.

Carla turned to Buck, all business. “So… whenever I have Chris, I’ll take Emma too. Eddie texted me the school Emma’s been approved for she isn’t far from Chris—so it’ll work fine. She might just have to wait after school until I get there after grabbing Chris. Then I’ll bring them here or to Eddie’s until you boys are off. On your shifts where I work with Abuela and Pepa, I’ll just leave them both with them, which they are more than happy about. We can work out a wage that makes sense something fair between you, me, and Eddie. I’m not too worried, even if you and Eddie just split what he pays me now.” She smiled, giving Buck a hug. “This sound okay?”

“I, yeah,” Buck stammered. “Yes, please. Whatever you think is fair.” He paused in shock. “Thank you, Carla.” He turned to Eddie. “Split Carla’s fee, and add a little more for an extra kid?”

“We’ll split it, half each and add a little extra,” Eddie said with a nod.

Carla raised an eyebrow. “That works. I’ll send you both the details so we’re all on the same page. If it’s too much or you have questions, you just tell me. We’ll work it out together.”

Buck blinked, trying not to cry. “I don’t even know how to thank you all.”

“You don’t,” Abuela said simply, patting his cheek. “Family takes care of family.”

Something cracked open in Buck’s chest. For weeks, he’d carried the fear that everyone would see Emma as a burden, another mistake, a reason to keep him at arm’s length. Instead, here she was, standing in a room full of people who had immediately pulled her in without hesitation. He caught Emma’s eyes across the room uncertain but shining and he thought maybe she felt it too.

Later, after everyone had eaten and the kids were back to shrieking over their game, Buck and Eddie found themselves side by side in the hallway, taping off trim for painting. The silence was companionable now, not brittle.

“You really meant it,” Buck said quietly. “About helping. About… all of this.”

Eddie glanced at him. “Of course I did. You don’t have to do this alone, Buck.”

“I’m still trying to believe that,” Buck admitted. “That people want to be here. That I’m not just… making it harder for everyone.”

Eddie’s jaw worked. He set his tape down and faced him fully. “You’re not making it harder, Buck. You never were. You’re,” He stopped, swallowed, started again. “You’re worth it. You’re always worth it.”

Buck stared at him, eyes wide, something unreadable moving behind them. For a moment, Eddie thought he’d said too much. But then Emma shouted from the living room about beating Chris’s score, and the moment cracked.

Buck smiled faintly. “We should get back to work before they start redecorating without us.”

Eddie huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”

They went back to painting, the awkwardness easing into something warmer.

By the time the sun dipped low, the living room had one freshly painted wall, the kitchen floor was clear of boxes, and the kids had bonded even more over their game like they’d been friends forever. Abuela and Pepa had left with promises of coming back tomorrow to bring curtains and some food. Carla had hugged Emma like she’d been watching her for years.

And Buck, standing in his new house with paint in his hair and pizza grease on his shirt, felt something he hadn’t in a long time.

Hope.

Chapter Text

The station looked the same. That was the first thing that hit Buck when he walked through the doors at shift change: the smell of coffee burned onto the pot, the faint grease in the air from last night’s dinner, the clang of weights being racked in the gym. The same. Familiar. And yet, everything in him felt different.

Emma’s laugh had still been ringing in his ears when he left the house this morning, tangled with the image of her curled up on the couch with Chris, both shouting at the video game. He’d stood there too long, reluctant to walk out the door, and Eddie had eventually nudged him along with a steady, “Carla’s got them. You’ll be back before they even notice.”

Now, standing in the bay, Buck shifted his duffel higher on his shoulder and drew in a breath that didn’t quite reach his lungs. His pulse thundered in his ears, the weight of a twenty four hour shift pressing down like a fire blanket.

“Buck.”

He turned. Eddie was there, just behind him, they left Eddie’s place at the same time, Buck arriving first. Eddie’s dark eyes steady. He wore his uniform like armor, his stance easy, casual but Buck caught the subtle tilt of his head asking ‘You good?’

Buck nodded once. It wasn’t entirely true, but it was enough.

They walked inside together.

Hen and Chim were at the kitchen table, nursing mugs of coffee. Bobby stood by the counter with his paperwork, reviewing reports. Conversation flickered between them until the door swung shut behind Buck, and then it hit that familiar silence he’d grown used to months ago.

Only this time, it broke quicker.

“Buck,” Bobby said, voice warm. “Good to have you back.”

“Yeah, man,” Chim added, too loudly, too forced. “We thought maybe you decided to take an extended vacation or something.”

Hen offered a small smile. “Or joined another station. You know, left us in the dust.”

Buck blinked, caught off guard. What? They’d barely looked at him before he left. They’d shut him out after the lawsuit, spoken to him only when necessary, let silence fill the spaces where jokes used to live. And now they were acting like… like that hadn’t happened.

He walked over to grab two coffees, for him and Eddie. “Nope,” he said, trying for neutral. “Still here.”

“Where’ve you been?” Chim asked, tilting his head. “You were out for weeks. We thought…”

“It’s private,” Buck cut in, sharper than he meant. The words landed heavy in the room. “Not something I’m ready to talk about.”

Chim’s brows shot up. Hen pressed her lips together. Bobby just studied him, calm and unreadable.

Eddie stepped forward a fraction, close enough that Buck felt it like a shield.

“Well,” Bobby said finally, smoothing the moment. “We’re glad you’re back.” He set the paperwork down. “Let’s gear up. We’ll see what the day brings.”

The first call came mid morning: a kitchen fire in a small apartment complex. Routine. They moved like muscle memory hose, ventilation, triage. Buck found himself at Eddie’s side, shoulder to shoulder, the way they always used to be. It felt strange at first, like trying on an old jacket you weren’t sure still fit, but when Eddie passed him the Halligan without a word, and Buck swung it into the locked door in sync with him, it was like the seams realigned.

By the time the smoke cleared and the fire was out, they’d pulled two tenants to safety and passed them off to paramedics. Buck wiped sweat from his brow, adrenaline steady in his veins. He glanced sideways at Eddie.

“You good?” Eddie asked, quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Yeah,” Buck said, and this time it was true.

Back at the station, Buck barely had time to change his shirt before Hen and Chim circled again.

“So, really,” Chim said, sliding into the chair across from him at the table. “You gonna tell us what was so important you ditched weeks of shifts?”

Hen shot him a look, but her curiosity wasn’t hidden either. “We’re not prying. Just you disappeared. That’s not like you.”

Buck snapped, throat tight. “It’s private,” he repeated, firm.

Chim frowned. “You can’t just”

“Yes, I can,” Buck said flatly, looking between them. “You want me back here doing the job, I’m here. But my personal life? That’s mine. So stop asking.”

Silence stretched. Hen leaned back, studying him, her expression softening into something thoughtful. Chim looked away, muttering under his breath.

Eddie dropped into the seat beside Buck, sliding him half a protein bar without comment. Buck took it, grateful.

The conversation shifted clumsily to a news story, then to a joke about Bobby’s cooking. Buck chewed in silence, jaw tight.

Around two, Bobby caught him in the bay.

“Buck,” he said, gesturing toward the side door. “Walk with me.”

Buck followed, nerves buzzing. They stopped near the rigs, quiet away from the others.

“You doing okay?” Bobby asked, folding his arms. His tone was gentle, but his eyes searched. “Really okay?”

Buck barked a laugh, startled and sharp. “I’m fine.”

“Fine,” Bobby echoed, unconvinced.

“Yeah.” Buck shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels. “Look, Cap, I know you probably want me to unload something here, but I can’t. Not yet. So I’m fine. That’s what you get.”

Bobby studied him a long moment, then nodded slowly. “All right. Fine it is. Just if fine changes, you come to me.”

Buck swallowed, the words catching somewhere behind his teeth. He nodded once.

The rest of the shift blurred. Calls came and went: a cyclist hit by a car, a false alarm at a high school, a broken elevator with a panicked kid inside. Buck worked each scene with precision, kept his focus tight, stayed near Eddie whenever he could.

And Eddie, Eddie never strayed. He cracked jokes quietly, nudged Buck’s shoulder when he zoned out, handed him tools without being asked. He didn’t push for conversation, didn’t demand explanations, just… stayed.

By the time night settled over the station, Buck found himself stretched on the bunk, staring at the ceiling. Eddie was in the next bed, scrolling his phone with his usual quiet presence. The murmur of voices carried from the loft, Hen and Chim laughing at something on TV.

Buck exhaled slowly, the knot in his chest loosening just a fraction.

He wasn’t ready to tell them about Emma. Not yet. That was his, private and fragile and too new to set under the scrutiny of a team that had once turned their backs.

But Eddie knew. Eddie had met her, had seen her smile, had helped make her laugh. Eddie had brought his family into the fold, had called Carla without hesitation.

That was enough for now.

Buck closed his eyes, the silence of the station settling into his bones, and let himself believe for the first time in months that he could belong here again, eventually. 

Chapter Text

Weeks passed and Buck could hardly believe this was his life. Mornings started with the sound of Emma’s alarm buzzing from her brand new bedroom, followed by the footsteps as she got ready for school. She’d chosen the paint herself a pale lavender with posters of her favorite bands and sketches taped carefully along one wall. Her desk was already cluttered with notebooks, half finished drawings, and the occasional late night snack wrapper Buck pretended not to notice.

The first day had been a storm of nerves hers and his but it hadn’t taken long for her to settle in. Each afternoon she came home with stories that spilled out faster than Buck could process: a teacher who encouraged her art, a classmate who wanted to trade sketches, the lunchroom politics that apparently revolved entirely around who sat near the vending machines. She was thriving in a way that made Buck’s chest ache with relief.

And the house, it was finally theirs. The renovations had been sweaty, exhausting work, but with Eddie at his side, Buck had managed to transform the space. Walls painted in colors that actually meant something, floors sanded and gleaming, furniture pieced together in late night marathons of wrenches and curse words. The loft had been finalised quick. When Buck locked the door of that apartment for the last time, he felt like he was closing the chapter on a version of himself who’d always been waiting for someone else to catch him.

Now, when he stood in the doorway of the new house, he didn’t feel like he was waiting anymore. He felt like he’d built something.

He had converted the third bedroom, painted blue and stocked with a twin bed, superhero sheets, and shelves for Lego sets that belonged to Christopher.

It had felt like the obvious choice. Eddie and Chris were over so often that the decision came naturally, not even a question. And having both kids under the same roof made it easier for Carla, Pepa, and Abuela whenever Buck and Eddie were on shift. They treated Emma like she’d been theirs all along, folding her into routines with the same warmth they’d always shown Chris.

The living room was usually chaos controllers tossed onto the couch, pizza boxes balanced on the coffee table, sketchbooks and homework competing for space. Buck loved every second of it.

Eddie was there most evenings. Sometimes he came with Chris, sometimes after dropping him at therapy, a friend’s or afterschool activity. Sometimes he just showed up with takeout, claiming Buck needed a break. Buck didn’t argue.

The awkwardness that had weighed between them after lawsuit had eased. They worked side by side, shoulders brushing as they painted or fixed fixtures, and somewhere in all those hours, the tension had shifted into something quieter, steadier.

But there was something else too.

It was in the way Buck’s eyes lingered when Eddie laughed, head thrown back, defenses down. It was in the brush of Eddie’s hand against his arm, not accidental but not quite intentional either. Glances that lasted a beat too long. Touches that spoke with an unspoken charge.

Buck told himself not to overthink it. Eddie was his best friend. But Eddie had apologized, had fought to be in his corner when no one else had, and that was enough. But late at night, when the house was quiet and Emma was asleep down the hall, Buck found himself staring at the ceiling, replaying every brush of contact, every flicker of Eddie’s gaze.

It was… something.

Emma, apparently, noticed too.

It happened on a Saturday afternoon. Buck was in the kitchen making sandwiches while Emma sat at the counter scrolling through her phone. She glanced up suddenly, casual as anything, and asked, “So… was Eddie your ex?”

The knife froze mid-spread.

Buck blinked. “What?”

She shrugged, sipping her soda. “I mean, you guys act like it. The way you look at each other. The spare bedroom for Chris. It kinda feels like you used to date, or something and now you’re, like, thinking about getting back together.”

Buck’s jaw worked, but words refused to form. His ears burned. “No. Eddie and I… we’ve never, he’s not,” He tripped over every denial, his throat tightening.

Emma raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Okay. If you say so.” She went back to her phone like she hadn’t just detonated a grenade in his chest.

Buck stood there for a long moment, staring at the countertop, the sandwich half made in front of him. His heart thudded unevenly, caught between panic and something that almost felt like possibility.

Life kept moving.

Chris and Emma became nearly inseparable, bickering like siblings one second and defending each other the next.

Carla, Pepa, and Abuela slipped into Emma’s life perfectly as if she’d always been family. They watched her during shifts, taught her recipes, taught her Spanish, and fussed over her, in a way no one ever has.

Buck found himself smiling more than he had in years.

And yet, the 118 remained… complicated.

He stayed civil at work. He showed up, did the job, laughed when appropriate. He accepted their attempts at conversation with nods and small smiles. But the wall was still there. They never apologized, never admitted the distance, never owned the way they left him, the way they treated him on his return.

Instead, they acted like nothing had happened. Like the lawsuit, the cold shoulders, the silence in the loft had been some collective dream. And Buck couldn’t cross that gap yet, not without acknowledgment.

Eddie was different. Eddie had apologized. Eddie had stayed. And Buck wasn’t sure what he’d do without that anchor.

Maddie called one night.

Buck stared at her name flashing on the screen until Emma nudged him. “Are you gonna answer?”

He sighed, swiping to accept. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Maddie said, her voice cautious. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” Buck said flatly.

“I just… wanted to check in. See how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.”

Silence stretched. Then Maddie said, softer, “I miss you.”

Buck closed his eyes, guilt tangling with anger. “You had my back once,” he said quietly. “But then you didn’t. You never apologized for that.”

“Evan,”

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, and hung up before she could finish.

Emma watched him carefully, her expression unreadable. “That was your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she’ll come around?”

Buck rubbed a hand over his face. “Maybe. I don’t know. But I can’t,” His voice cracked. “I can’t keep letting people walk in and out of my life whenever it suits them. You deserve better than to watch me do that.”

Emma nodded slowly, but she didn’t push.

One evening, after another long shift, Buck and Eddie sat on the porch steps while the kids battled it out on the video game inside. The house glowed warm behind them, laughter spilling through the windows.

“You did good, Buck,” Eddie said, his voice low.

Buck snorted. “I spent two hours assembling a bed frame backwards.”

Eddie’s mouth quirked. “Not what I meant. The house. Emma. All of it. You’re giving her what she deserves.”

The words hit Buck square in the chest. He swallowed hard. “I’m trying.”

“You’re doing,” Eddie corrected. His gaze lingered, warm and steady, and Buck had to look away before he drowned in it.

And then, the shift that changed things.

A call came in mid-afternoon, routine at first glance. “Possible smoke in a school building.” The address was rattled off by Bobby, and Buck’s stomach dropped.

Emma’s school.

His blood ran cold.

He met Eddie’s eyes across the rig. Eddie’s expression had gone sharp, protective.

Neither of them said it, but the same thought burned in both their chests.

Emma.

Chapter Text

The sirens cut as the truck pulled into the school parking lot, lights still flashing red against the pale brick walls. A haze of smoke leaked out of the cafeteria vents, panicked teachers were already herding kids onto the front lawn, and the sharp edge of fear hit Buck like a punch to the chest.

Bobby climbed down first, voice steady as he started to direct orders. “Hen, you and Chim sweep the north wing. Eddie, Buck,”

But Buck was already running.

He bolted, heart hammering so loud it drowned out everything else. He knew the map of this school now, had memorized it the way he used to memorize escape routes on calls. He knew exactly where Emma’s classroom was, down the east hall, second door on the left.

“Buck!” Bobby’s voice roared across the lot. “Wait for orders!”

“Not when my daughter’s in there!” Buck screamed back, the words tearing out of him, loud and wild. His legs carried him faster, his gear clattering, and behind him the entire crew froze in stunned silence.

Daughter.

The word hung in the smoke thick air, heavier than the fire itself.

For one beat, no one moved. Then Bobby snapped back into command mode, eyes burning with fear that wasn’t professional, it was personal, raw, the same fear that had cracked him months ago, during all of Bucks near deaths. The same ache he had when he couldn’t get to Brooke and Robert Jr. 

“Eddie!” Bobby shouted, voice breaking. “Bring Buck and his daughter out, safely. Do not lose them!” 

Eddie didn’t hesitate. He sprinted after Buck, lungs already burning as he pushed harder, faster.

Buck’s boots slammed against the floor, smoke curling low along the ceiling tiles. His lungs seized, but he kept running. Every classroom door he passed was another explosion of dread, because any of them could hold Emma. He forced his body forward, past the fire alarm wail, past the sting in his eyes. The school was empty, it looked like most people had gotten out safely. 

“Buck!” Eddie’s voice echoed down the hall.

Buck didn’t stop. He couldn’t.

He reached the second door, shoved it open with his shoulder, and stumbled inside.

The room was a haze of frightened kids crouched under desks, their teacher waving frantically for calm. And there by the window, Emma.

“Dad!” she cried, her voice cracking, and that was it.

Buck’s legs nearly gave out as he rushed forward, sweeping her into his arms so fast he nearly knocked them both over. His mask slipped, his lungs burning, but none of it mattered. She was solid, alive, shaking against him but alive.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered fiercely into her hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Emma clung to him, sobbing, and he tightened his grip like he could hold her whole world together with his bare hands.

“Buck!” Eddie’s voice again, closer now, and then Eddie burst into the room, eyes flicking over the kids, the smoke, Buck on his knees with Emma wrapped around him. Relief hit Eddie so sharp he almost staggered.

“We need to get them out,” Eddie said quickly, already moving to guide the teacher and other students.

Buck nodded, hauling Emma to her feet, never letting her go. “Stay with me,” he told her, his voice shaking. “Don’t let go.”

“I won’t,” she whispered, her fingers digging into his jacket.

Together, they joined the stream of kids Eddie was leading out, back through the smoke choked hall and toward the daylight.

When they emerged into the open air, Buck gasped in a lungful of oxygen like it was his first breath in weeks. He crouched, still holding Emma, as paramedics rushed forward. She refused to let go, face pressed into his chest.

Bobby was there in an instant. His hands shook as he grabbed Buck’s shoulder, eyes wide and wild.

“What were you thinking?” Bobby demanded, voice cracking. “Running in alone, no backup, no orders, do you have any idea what that does to me? To watch you run into danger like that?” His voice faltered, raw and honest. “It’s like watching another child disappear, if you told me about your daughter, I would have ordered you to go in with Eddie, or me, someone, anyone and pull her out safely!” 

Buck froze. He’d seen Bobby angry, seen him strict, seen him disappointed. But he’d never seen him like this eyes wet, jaw trembling, the kind of fear that came from wounds so deep they never really closed.

“Cap…” Buck started, but Bobby shook his head, gripping tighter.

“I lost my kids,” Bobby said, voice rough as sandpaper. “And every time you pull something reckless, every time you put yourself in danger without thinking, I see that all over again. I can’t lose another son. Do you understand me? I cannot lose you. You tell me your situation, we work together.” Bobby sniffed “I’m so sorry for not telling you my fears, not being honest and holding you back because of it. I just can’t lose you. But I know this is your job, and I need to be your captain. So before you bolt into danger. You talk to me. I’ll meet you halfway, okay?” 

The words hit Buck harder than any fire ever had. His breath caught, his chest aching. He looked down at Emma, clinging to him like she’d never let go, and then back at Bobby, who was standing there with the same terror carved into his face that Buck had seen in the mirror when Emma first showed up at his door.

“I couldn’t wait,” Buck said hoarsely. “She’s my daughter. I couldn’t stand out here while she was in there.” His voice broke. “I can’t lose her either.”

Bobby’s expression softened, but the pain stayed. He crouched down so they were eye to eye. “I know,” he said quietly. “I do. You worry about her, like I worry about you. But we have to be a team, you heard the address, so talk to me once you know something is coming, and we will have a plan sorted together, beforehand.”

Buck’s throat closed, tears burning hot. He wanted to argue, to say he’d always had to do it alone, but Emma’s arms tightened around him and Eddie’s steady presence settled him, and Bobby’s words landed in the hollow space he hadn’t known was still open.

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispered.

Bobby’s hand pressed firm against his shoulder. “No I’m sorry for everything. Just… let us… me help. Please.”

Buck nodded, the fight bleeding out of him. For the first time, he let himself lean into the weight of Bobby’s hand, into the truth of what he was saying.

The rest of the students were cleared, the fire contained quickly by Hen and Chim. It turned out to be a kitchen blaze, smoke damage more than flames, but the panic had spread faster than the fire itself.

Emma was checked by paramedics smoke inhalation, but nothing severe. She sat on the back of the ambulance, sipping water, her small frame wrapped in a blanket. Buck stayed glued to her side, one hand always on her, like if he let go she’d vanish.

Eddie hovered nearby, giving them space but never straying too far. He watched Buck like a hawk, protective of them both, and when Buck finally glanced up, their eyes met. Eddie’s gaze said everything I’ve got you. Both of you.

And Buck let himself believe it.

Later, when the rig rolled back toward the station, the air inside was heavy. Chim and Hen traded quiet words in the front, Bobby drove, jaw tight. In the back, Buck sat between Eddie and Emma. Emma had fallen asleep against his side, worn out from the fear and adrenaline. Buck brushed a hand over her hair, staring down at her with an expression so tender Eddie’s chest ached.

Bobby’s voice finally broke the silence. “I’m glad she is safe,” he said, gently.

Buck nodded without looking up. “Yeah, me too.”

But Bobby’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, lingering on Buck and Emma. 
 
Buck glanced up, meeting Bobby’s eyes in the mirror. He saw the way Bobby watched him and Emma with love, but also with fear. Now that Buck had a child of his own, he understood that fear. It made him realize that maybe everything Bobby had done was out of fear, out of love.

He still felt betrayed, still felt wronged by being kept from returning to work. But now he could see that Bobby had been scared, scared his boy wouldn’t come back to him. And the fear Buck had felt today, thinking the worst when it came to Emma, showed him just how deeply that terror could cut.

He understood it now. He understood, at least a little, why Bobby had done what he did. It didn’t excuse everything. But it was a start.

Chapter Text

The engine rolled into the station just as twilight stretched across the city, the sky bruised purple and orange. Buck sat stiff in the back, Emma tucked close to him, her blanket still draped around her shoulders. She hadn’t let go of his hand since they left the school, and he hadn’t asked her to.

When the rig slowed, Buck’s stomach clenched. Figures were waiting by the doors, silhouetted in the fading light. Athena. Maddie. Both standing tall, both searching the cab with identical worried lines creasing their brows.

“Of course,” Buck muttered under his breath.

Emma stirred, blinking up at him. “Where are we?”

“The station,” Buck said softly, brushing her hair back.

The doors groaned open. Emma shrank against him when she saw the unfamiliar faces, her fingers tightening on his. Buck squeezed back, climbing down first and holding her steady as she climbed down after him.

Athena’s gaze zeroed in on Emma instantly, a small smile on her face. Maddie’s eyes, though they filled with confusion, disbelief, and something like hurt.

Chim was the first to break the silence. “I, I can’t keep secrets,” he blurted, throwing his hands up. “I’m sorry, Buck, I just when you screamed about your daughter back there,” He trailed off, wincing.

Hen swatted his arm. “Chim!”

“What?!” he hissed. “We all heard it! And I don’t do secrets!” 

“Come on,” Bobby said, his voice carrying that edge of command that made everyone snap to attention. He gestured toward the loft. “Let’s take this upstairs.” His eyes softened when he looked at Emma. “All of us.”

Buck hesitated, his chest tight. He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t been ready. But Emma was pressed against his side, and she deserved better than whispered questions and sideways glances. He nodded, his throat dry.

The loft smelled faintly of baked cheese. Bobby set a covered dish on the counter, the steam curling up when he lifted the lid. “I made mac and cheese earlier,” he said, almost shy. “Thought maybe we could eat while we talk.”

Emma’s eyes lit up despite herself. “Real mac and cheese?”

Bobby smiled gently. “The realest.”

Buck caught the look of wonder on her face and something in his chest cracked wide open. “Go ahead,” he whispered, nudging her toward the counter. She slipped onto a chair, letting Bobby spoon a generous portion into a bowl.

The others gathered around the table, quiet but present. Buck stood for a moment, feeling the weight of every gaze. Then he pulled in a breath and sat beside Emma.

“This is Emma,” he said, voice low but steady. “Emma Faith Buckley. My daughter.”

Confusion rippled around the table. Athena’s lips parted. Maddie’s hand flew to her mouth. Chim whispered, “So it’s true!”

Buck looked down at Emma, who was busy blowing on her mac and cheese, her cheeks pink. He smiled faintly, then turned back to his team. “She showed up at my door weeks ago. With a birth certificate. Her mom never told me, never told anyone. Emma’s been in foster care her whole life, and when she found me… I didn’t even think. I just,” His voice broke. “She’s mine. I filed for custody, we did the DNA test, everything came back positive. The court granted it. She changed her name. She’s a Buckley now.”

Emma peeked up then, her fork paused midair. “Hi,” she said softly, her voice carrying just enough courage to break the silence.

Athena’s expression melted, warm and protective. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Hen leaned forward, her eyes kind. “It’s really nice to meet you, Emma.”

Chim opened his mouth, then closed it, visibly fighting the urge to make a joke. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Welcome.”

Emma ducked her head, cheeks still pink, but a tiny smile tugged at her lips.

Buck swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. “I should’ve told you all sooner. I just after the lawsuit, after everything, I didn’t know if I could trust that you’d… want to know. Or care. And I couldn’t risk Emma seeing me get rejected again.”

The words hung heavy. No one rushed to fill the silence this time.

Then Bobby leaned forward, his gaze steady. “You’re right. We weren’t there for you. Not the way we should’ve been. We let the lawsuit get in the way of what mattered, and that’s on us.” His voice thickened, but he pressed on. “I’m sorry, Buck. We all are.”

Hen nodded firmly. “We should’ve had your back. I regret that every day.”

Chim winced, but forced himself to meet Buck’s eyes. “We messed up. Big time. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but I want you to know I’m sorry. And I’m here now. We all are.”

Athena added quietly, “Family isn’t supposed to disappear when it gets hard. I think we forgot that for a while.”

Buck’s throat closed. He blinked hard, staring down at the table. He wanted to stay angry, to keep the wall up, but Emma’s hand slipped into his under the table, small and steady. He squeezed back, grounding himself.

“I needed you,” he said finally, his voice breaking. “And you weren’t there. I’m not ready to just forget that.” He glanced at Emma, then back at the team. “But if you’re willing to try, if you really mean it, I’ll try too. For her.”

Emma looked up at him with wide, wet eyes, then leaned against his arm.

Bobby nodded once, solemn. “We mean it.”

Dinner blurred into laughter real, tentative, but there. Bobby served seconds. Chim tried to sneak bites from Hen’s plate and got smacked with a fork. Athena asked Emma about school, and Emma lit up, telling her about her art class and the friend she’d made who also liked to sketch. For the first time, Buck watched his daughter smile in a room full of people who weren’t strangers, and he thought maybe they could build something new. Something better.

When the plates were cleared and Emma had been coaxed into showing Bobby a page from her sketchbook, Maddie touched Buck’s arm. “Can we talk? Alone?”

His stomach twisted, but he nodded.

They stepped outside, the night air cool against his skin. For a long moment, neither spoke.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Maddie asked finally, her voice breaking. “I’m your sister, Buck. Why did I have to find out like this?”

Buck swallowed, looking out over the city lights. “Because when everything went down with the lawsuit, you didn’t pick me. You picked Chim. The team. And I get it, I do but it felt like you left me too. And I couldn’t risk Emma seeing that. Not after what she’s been through. I had to protect her, she can’t have people coming into her life to just leave again.” 

Maddie’s eyes filled. “I thought I was protecting you too. I didn’t know how to… balance it. I messed up. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

Buck turned to her then, his own eyes wet. “You were the one person I thought would always be there. And when you weren’t… it broke something in me. I didn’t know if I could trust you again.”

“I want to fix it,” Maddie whispered. “I want to be her aunt. I want to be your sister again. Please let me try.”

Buck’s chest ached. He wanted to say no, to hold the hurt tighter, but Emma’s laughter carried from inside, light and unguarded. And Buck thought about what Emma deserved about what he deserved too.

He nodded slowly. “Okay. But it’s going to take time, and if you’re going to leave again, leave now. Because I can’t do it again Maddie.” 

Maddie let out a shaky breath, a smile breaking through her tears. “I’m not going anywhere again, and time I’m willing to give.”

They stood in silence for a moment, side by side, the cool night air wrapping around them.

Inside, Emma giggled at something Hen said, and Buck turned toward the sound, his heart tugging him back in.

Home, he thought. It finally felt like home.

Chapter Text

The sun blazed warm and bright, the kind of weather that begged for a day outside. Buck had been the one to suggest the zoo, but Emma and Chris had practically leapt at the idea. By the time they pulled into the parking lot, Emma was buzzing in the back seat, rattling off which animals she wanted to see first, while Chris argued passionately that no zoo trip was complete without feeding the giraffes.

“You’re both forgetting the best part,” Buck said, shooting them a grin through the rearview mirror. “Penguins.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You would pick penguins.”

“They’re little guys in tuxedos!” Buck protested, indignant.

Eddie, riding shotgun, smirked. “Don’t encourage him. He’ll buy you penguin socks by the end of the day. It did that to Chris a while back.” 

Emma laughed, and the sound filled the car, light and free.

The zoo was alive with noise, children squealing, vendors shouting about cotton candy, the faint roar of a lion carrying over the crowd. They moved together through the gates, Buck with beside Emma, Eddie near Chris.

It was different, normally it was the three of them. Chris, Buck and Eddie. But now Emma was included and both Eddie and Buck looked at each other, smiling because it felt right. 

The first stop was the elephants. Emma pressed close to the railing, eyes wide as one lumbered past, its ears flapping lazily. “They’re huge,” she whispered.

“Wait until you see them eat,” Buck said, leaning down. “Whole bundles of hay gone in one bite.”

Sure enough, when the elephant scooped up the food with its trunk, Emma gasped. Chris laughed, tugging Eddie’s sleeve. “Did you see that? It’s like a vacuum cleaner!”

Eddie ruffled his son’s hair. “Bet you wish you had one of those for your room.”

Chris groaned. “Dad.”

They moved from enclosure to enclosure, laughter trailing after them. Emma bought her instant camera Buck had gotten her, and snapped pictures of everything: flamingos, monkeys swinging through the branches, Buck making a ridiculous face beside the meerkats. 

At the giraffe feeding station, Chris stretched up to offer a leaf, Eddie holding him steady. The giraffe leaned down, tongue curling around the snack, and Chris beamed so brightly Eddie thought his heart might burst. Emma took her turn, her laughter bubbling out when the giraffe’s whiskers tickled her palm.

Buck snapped a photo on his phone, capturing both kids in the frame. When he lowered it, Eddie was already watching him, something soft and unspoken passing between them.

It happened near the polar bear enclosure. They’d paused to grab drinks, Emma sipping a lemonade, Chris slurping a slushy. Buck leaned against the railing, Eddie beside him, when an older couple shuffled past. The woman stopped, her eyes crinkling at the sight of them.

“Would you like a family photo?” she asked kindly. “You’ve got such a beautiful family.”

For a heartbeat, Buck froze. Then he felt Emma at his side, Chris leaning against Eddie, and before he could say anything, Eddie smiled.

“Sure,” Eddie said. “Thank you.”

The woman took Buck’s phone, directed them to squeeze together. Buck crouched slightly, one arm around Emma’s shoulders. Eddie stood close, his hand on Chris’s back, Eddie pulling Buck in by his waist. The kids grinned, Buck tried not to blink, and the phone clicked.

When the woman handed the phone back, she patted Buck’s arm. “You’re very lucky,” she said warmly.

Buck looked at the photo on the screen. Emma’s hair was windblown, Chris’s grin a little crooked, Eddie’s smile softer than Buck had seen in months. And him he was looking straight at the camera, but the joy in his face was undeniable. He held the photo down, setting it as his locked screen. 

He swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I really am.”

Eddie leaned in, close enough that Buck felt the warmth of his arm. “She’s right,” he murmured.

Their eyes met. Neither looked away.

By the time they left the zoo, the kids were tired but happy, their arms full of souvenirs: a penguin top Emma insisted on, and a giraffe keychain Chris immediately clipped to his backpack. Buck drove them back to the house, humming along to the radio while Emma stared out the window and Chris nodded off in the backseat.

At home, the kids perked up when Buck suggested picking up food. “Pizza?” he offered, already knowing the answer.

“Pizza!” they chorused, making him laugh.

“I’ll go grab it,” Buck said, grabbing his keys. “You three stay here, get comfy.”

“Don’t forget breadsticks!” Emma called after him.

“Always,” Buck promised, closing the door behind him.

Silence settled once the car pulled away. Emma and Chris plopped down on the couch, the video game controllers forgotten for once. Eddie stood awkwardly in the kitchen, hands braced on the counter. He’d been carrying the thought all day, letting it grow heavier with every laugh, every smile, every glance that lingered too long.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Can I ask you two something?”

Chris tilted his head. “What?”

Eddie moved closer, perching on the edge of the armchair across from them. He rubbed his palms together, nerves buzzing. “How would you both feel… if I asked Buck on a date? I won’t do anything you both aren’t comfortable with.” 

Emma blinked, startled. Chris’s eyes widened and then he groaned dramatically. “Finally.”

Emma’s lips twitched. “Seriously. We were wondering how long it would take.”

Eddie blinked. “You were… what?”

Chris grinned, elbowing Emma. “Told you it would happen.”

Emma shrugged, smirking. “Yeah, but I thought my Dad would make the first move.” She leaned forward, serious now. “If you’re going to do it… don’t mess it up. Don’t leave him…leave us.” 

Eddie’s chest tightened. “I won’t leave. I promise.”

Chris’s grin softened. “I love Buck, and I like our family.” Chris smiles between his dad and Emma. 

Emma nodded. “I like when we are all together.”

Eddie swallowed hard, his throat thick. He looked at the two of them, these kids who had seen more than they should, who trusted him with their honesty and something inside him steadied. He loved them both. He wanted them to be a family. Him, Buck, Chris and Emma. 

“Okay,” he said softly. “Thank you, for being honest.” 

Emma leaned back, smirking again. “What are you going to plan for the first date?”

Chris snorted. “Yeah. What are you going to do?”

Eddie groaned, dragging a hand over his face, but his ears were burning. “He hasn’t said yes yet.”

But when he looked at them again, both smiling, he felt something he hadn’t let himself in a long time, happiness.

When Buck came back later, balancing pizza boxes and breadsticks, he found Eddie laughing with the kids in the living room. Emma was leaning against Chris, both of them still grinning.

“What’d I miss?” Buck asked suspiciously, setting the food down.

“Nothing,” Chris said too quickly.

Emma smirked. “Just family stuff.”

Eddie caught Buck’s eyes across the room. His heart raced, but this time, he didn’t look away.

Soon, he promised himself.

Soon.

Chapter Text

Eddie had been pacing the living room for ten minutes, rehearsing words that sounded stupid every time they left his mouth. He could face down fire, gunfire, collapsing buildings but asking Buck out on a date? His heart pounded like it might break through his ribs.

When Buck finally stepped through the door, dropping his jacket onto the hook, Eddie froze mid step.

“Hey,” Buck said, brow quirked. “You okay? You look like you’re about to deliver bad news.”

Eddie exhaled. Now or never. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s not bad. Just… important.”

Buck tilted his head, curious.

Eddie’s throat tightened, but he forced the words out. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

For a heartbeat, silence hung between them. Buck blinked. Then his face lit up, his smile so wide, so unguarded, it nearly knocked Eddie off his feet.

“Yes,” Buck said immediately. His voice was breathless, like the word had been waiting on his tongue for years. “God, yes.”

Eddie let out a shaky laugh. “Really?”

“Really,” Buck said, grinning like a kid. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

Eddie laughed harder, the tension spilling out of him. “Okay then. A date.”

When they told the kids, Chris whooped. “Yes, see dad, told you!”

Emma crossed her arms, smirking. “Awesome.”

Buck groaned. “You both knew?”

Chris grinned. “Dad asked us first.”

Emma added, “He wanted to know we are both happy with it.”

Eddie covered his face with his hands, ears red. Buck just smiled, shaking his head. “That, that means a lot.” 

For their date night, Hen and Karen agreed to watch Chris and Emma. Chris was excited to have Emma meet Denny, and Emma was equally eager. “If I’m gonna hang out with Chris all the time,” she’d told Buck, “I should meet the other kids, and Chris and Denny are like best friends,”

So Saturday night, Buck dropped them off at Hen and Karen’s, Emma carrying her overnight bag, Chris bouncing with excitement. Buck hugged Emma tight before leaving, whispering, “Be good, okay?”

She rolled her eyes but hugged him back. “I will. Go on your date” she smirked. 

Eddie spent the days freaking out. He wanted everything perfect. Not dinner out, not something generic. Buck deserved something personal, something that showed him just how much Eddie meant every word he’d held back for years.

So he enlisted his family.

Abuela and Pepa cooked for hours, filling Eddie’s kitchen with Buck’s favorites: enchiladas, arroz con pollo, those caramel stuffed cookies Buck devoured every time he visited. They teased Eddie mercilessly while they worked, but when he explained why, their smiles softened, and their hands moved faster.

By the time Buck was ready to be picked up, Eddie’s house glowed. Strings of fairy lights wound around the walls. LED candles flickered along the shelves. A bouquet of flowers sat in the middle of the table, the good plates laid out beneath them. The smell of Abuela’s food filled the air, rich and warm.

Eddie wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, grabbed his keys, and drove to get Buck.

Buck opened the door, smiling when he saw Eddie. “You’re not telling me where we’re going?”

“Not yet,” Eddie said, nerves buzzing.

The drive was quiet but comfortable, Buck singing softly along with the radio, Eddie stealing glances at him in the glow of the dashboard lights.

When they pulled up to Eddie’s house, Buck blinked. “We’re… at your place?”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s heart pounded. “Come on.”

He led Buck inside, and the moment the door opened, Buck stopped short.

The lights, the flowers, the food, the warmth it hit him all at once. His mouth parted, eyes wide. “Eddie…”

“I wanted it here,” Eddie said quietly. “Not some restaurant. Here, where I could give you everything you love. Where it’s… us.”

Buck turned slowly, taking it in, and Eddie saw it the shimmer in his eyes, the way his breath caught.

“You did all this for me?” Buck whispered.

“Yeah,” Eddie said simply. “Because you’re it for me, Buck. You always have been.”

Buck’s throat closed. He stepped closer, his hand brushing Eddie’s arm. “You’re it for me too.” Then his lips curved into a smug grin. “Why do you think I got a three bedroom house?”

Eddie blinked. “What?”

“One for us. One for Emma. And one for Chris,” Buck said, his voice full of quiet certainty. “Because I knew, one day, when we were ready, you’d be there too. And I wanted it to fit.”

Eddie’s breath left him in a rush, his heart clenching tight. “You… thought about us like that?”

“Every day,” Buck admitted. “Since the start.”

For a moment, neither moved. Then Eddie surged forward, cupping Buck’s face and kissing him.

It was soft at first, tentative, but Buck melted instantly, his hands gripping Eddie’s shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken love spilling out all at once. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Buck laughed against Eddie’s mouth. “Took you long enough.”

Eddie groaned. “Don’t start.”

“Too late,” Buck teased, kissing him again.

Dinner was perfect. They sat across from each other, laughing as Buck ate half the enchiladas, groaning dramatically about how much better Abuela’s cooking was than his own. Eddie soaked in every smile, every laugh, every moment that felt so natural it was like they’d been doing this forever.

After dessert Buck’s favorite caramel cookies. Eddie reached across the table, taking Buck’s hand. “I love you,” he said simply. “I know I shouldn’t say that on the first date, but given how long it took us to get here...”

Buck’s eyes filled, his hand tightening around Eddie’s. “I love you too,” he whispered. “You’re my family. You’re my everything. You, Chris and Emma.” 

They didn’t make it far from the table.

The kisses turned hungry, desperate, years of longing finally breaking free. They stumbled down the hall, laughter spilling between kisses, until they tumbled onto Eddie’s bed.

It was slow, deep, every touch deliberate. Eddie’s hands traced every line of Buck’s skin like he was memorizing him, and Buck clung to him like he’d finally found home. When they came together, it wasn’t frantic, it was everything. Love, trust, devotion, all tangled in heat and tenderness.

After, tangled in the sheets, Buck’s head rested on Eddie’s chest, their breathing slowly evening out. Eddie pressed a kiss to his hair, his arms wrapped tight.

“Still with me?” Eddie murmured.

“Always,” Buck whispered, already half-asleep.

Eddie smiled, his heart so full it hurt.

For the first time in years, neither of them felt like they were falling.

They had landed.

And they had landed together.

Chapter Text

The smell of barbecue drifted through Bobby and Athena’s backyard long before Buck even stepped out of the truck. He carried a bowl of pasta salad Emma had insisted on making him bring, though Buck suspected Bobby had already prepared enough food to feed half of Los Angeles.

The yard was bustling. Hen and Karen were setting out trays of snacks, Chim was trying to keep Denny from sneaking cookies, and Eddie was laughing as Chris explained why Emma would ‘definitely’ win at the water balloon toss later. Emma stood beside him, hands on her hips, already arguing back with that spark in her eyes.

Buck paused on the patio, Emma’s backpack slung over his shoulder, and took it in. The noise, the laughter, the clatter of plates it felt like home.

“Hey, you made it,” Athena called warmly, striding over with a pair of tongs still in her hand. She leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Welcome to the chaos.”

Buck laughed. “Looks like you’ve got everything under control.”

“Don’t tell Bobby that,” she teased, lowering her voice. “He thinks he’s the only one running this show.”

As if summoned, Bobby appeared from behind the grill, apron on, tongs in hand. His face softened into a smile the moment he spotted Buck and Emma. “Glad you came,” he said simply, his voice thick with meaning.

Emma hovered for a moment, nervous under so many unfamiliar eyes. Buck bent down, whispering, “You good?”

She nodded quickly, gripping his arm as they stepped further into the yard.

Hen called out to her, her smile kind. “Did you bring your sketchbook? I’ve heard a lot about those sketchbooks.”

Emma blushed but smiled back. “I did.” She handed the sketchbook over with a smile. 

Hen flipped through “These are really good Em,” 

“Denny draws too,” Karen added warmly. “Maybe you can show each other later.”

Denny grinned, already tugging Emma toward the snack table. Buck’s heart swelled at the sight of his daughter, laughing and running alongside kids who felt like family.

Maddie slipped up beside him, pulling him into a side hug. “Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey,” Buck murmured back.

They sat together for a while, watching Emma chatter with Chris and Denny, their heads bent over plates of chips like they’d known each other forever.

Maddie exhaled shakily. “She’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Buck said, his throat tight. “She is.” 

“I wish you’d told me sooner.”

Buck looked down, shame pricking. “I didn’t know how. Emma has been left before her whole life Maddie, and you left me behind...”

Maddie blinked back tears. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I was selfish, I was… absent. That won’t happen again.”

Buck studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that.”

Maddie smiled through her tears. “Deal.”

When Emma wandered over to grab a soda, Maddie crouched down. “Hi, Emma. I’m Maddie, your aunt.”

Emma blinked, surprised. Then her face softened. “You’re his sister?” She jabbed a thumb at Buck.

“Yes, I am,” Maddie laughed.

Emma tilted her head, considering. “You don’t look alike.” 

“Good thing for me,” Maddie joked, and Emma laughed.

For Buck, the sound was everything.

“You’re not going to leave again are you?” Emma questions shyly. 

Maddie paused, thrown a little from the question “definitely not, your both stuck with me.” 

Emma smiled with a nod “Good, that’s good.” She looked at her dad, then back at Maddie “Then… Hey Aunt Maddie.” Emma said with a smirk, which made Maddie laugh.

“Hi Emma,” Maddie giggled “She really is your daughter.” Buck just smiled proudly. 

Emma sat between Chris and Denny, chattering about school. Buck couldn’t stop staring, memorizing the way her eyes lit up when she spoke, the way Chris nodded like he already saw her as a sister.

At one point, Emma glanced up at Bobby and Athena across the table. “So, um,” she said, grinning. “If Buck’s my dad… does that make you guys, like what…grandpa and grandma?”

Buck nearly choked on his drink. “Emma!”

“What?” she said innocently. “I’m just asking.”

The table erupted in laughter.

“She‘s not wrong” Hen muttered loud enough everyone heard. Which caused more laughs. 

Bobby blinked, his eyes shining, caught off guard by the weight of it. Athena, though, leaned forward, her smile warm and proud. “If you want to call me Grandma, sweetheart, you go right ahead.”

Emma’s looked shocked “Wait, really?” She looked at them “I’ve never had grandparents…” 

“Your choice,” Buck said quickly, his voice breaking as he looked at Emma.

Emma beamed. “Okay. Grandma.” She smirked at Athena. 

Bobby cleared his throat roughly, covering his eyes for a moment before lowering his hand. His smile was shaky, but real. “Grandpa works for me,” he managed.

Tears pricked Buck’s eyes as Emma grinned at both of them.

Athena reached across the table, squeezing Emma’s hand. “How about a girls day sometime? Just you and me. Shopping, lunch, whatever you want.” Athena leaned closer to loudly whisper “I’ll get you a few things, got to spoil my granddaughter, don’t I?” 

Emma’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Really,” Athena said firmly.

Buck swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the sight of his daughter, his Emma being claimed by people who loved her already. “Athena… you don’t have to do that,” Buck said.

Athena just waved him off “Hush, this is between us…” she smiled while saying it. 

Buck couldn’t help but smile “Okay…” and Emma had the biggest smile on her face. 

The afternoon stretched into easy chaos. Chim organized a water balloon toss with the kids that ended with Chim completely soaked, much to everyone’s delight. Karen and Maddie organised the kids ice cream sundaes. Athena told stories that had Emma in stitches, while Bobby hovered near Buck, his pride obvious in every glance.

At one point, Eddie slipped into the kitchen, grabbed two beers, and wandered back outside. He found Buck leaning against the railing, watching Emma play uno with Chris and Denny.

“Here,” Eddie said, pressing a cold bottle into his hand.

“Thanks,” Buck murmured, smiling.

Without thinking, Eddie leaned over and kissed his cheek. Quick, casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And then the world went quiet.

When Buck opened his eyes, the yard had frozen. Hen’s spoon hung midair. Chim’s jaw dropped. Maddie blinked rapidly.

Then, all at once, 

“Finally!” Hen exclaimed, slapping the table.

Karen laughed. “Called it.”

Chim groaned dramatically. “Oh my God, I knew it. The staring, the lingering looks, do you have any idea how obvious you two are?”

Athena smirked, raising her glass. “Took you long enough.” She toasted the air “Happy for you both.” 

Bobby just smiled muttering something about paperwork to do.

Buck’s cheeks burned, but when he looked at Eddie, who was staring back at him with a mix of panic and pride, something inside him snapped free. He laughed loud, unrestrained, unafraid.

“Yeah,” Buck said, sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist. “We’re together.”

The cheer that went up was deafening.

Emma, standing a few feet away, smirked knowingly. “Guess the date went well,” she said, fist bumping Chris.

Buck’s heart felt so full it could burst.

Chapter Text

Six months later, the house didn’t just feel lived in, it felt alive. The lavender walls in Emma’s room were now covered with her artwork, sketchbooks stacked high on her desk. Chris’s room overflowed with Lego creations, comic books, and the posters Buck had carefully hung with him. The living room was a collage of chaos: sneakers by the door, school backpacks dumped near the couch, and a photo wall Buck had insisted on building with prints of zoo trips, birthdays, and game nights.

Eddie’s toothbrush was by the sink. His jacket hung on the hook next to Buck’s. His boots sat by the door where Buck used to leave his alone. And Chris’s laughter mingled with Emma’s daily, filling the house with a sound Buck had once only dreamed of.

That morning, Eddie and Chris had carried the last of their boxes inside. Chris had declared, “we are home,” before immediately racing Emma to the kitchen. The sound of their feet and the crutches, their voices overlapping as they argued over who got the last slice of leftover pizza.

Buck stood in the hallway, his hand braced on the doorframe, watching Eddie set down a box labeled ‘photographs.’

“You sure about this?” Buck asked quietly, not because he doubted, but because sometimes the reality still felt too good to be true.

Eddie turned, his smile soft. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.” He stepped closer, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple. “This is home.”

Buck’s throat tightened. Home.

The weeks that followed were an easy rhythm of blending lives. Eddie slipped seamlessly into their routines, cooking breakfast on mornings when Buck was running late, fixing the leaky faucet Buck had been ignoring, sitting with Emma at the table while she finished math homework. Buck found himself folding Chris’s laundry along with Emma’s without a second thought, picking up Eddie’s favorite cereal at the store, leaning into the warmth of a life they’d both carved out of chaos.

Emma thrived, her confidence growing every day. Chris declared she was basically his sister now, which Emma pretended to roll her eyes at but secretly couldn’t be happier.

On weekends, the house was full Hen, Karen, Denny dropping by for barbecues, Bobby and Athena coming over with groceries and fussing over Emma like she was their granddaughter in truth. Chris had also demanded he get the same treatment now him and Emma are siblings. Which Bobby and Athena jumped right in at. Maddie visited often, Emma, Chris and Maddie had started a tradition call aunt days where they went to the bookstore and came back with more novels than any of them could finish.

For Buck, every day felt like a gift. For the first time, his world wasn’t defined by loss or absence it was full.

The proposal happened on an ordinary evening.

The kids had gone to bed after a movie marathon, both falling asleep halfway through with popcorn bowls still in their laps. Buck had tucked Emma in, brushing her hair back and kissing her forehead, while Eddie had carried Chris to his bed, his son’s head heavy on his shoulder.

Later, Buck found Eddie on the porch, staring at the night sky.

“You okay?” Buck asked, stepping beside him.

Eddie looked at him, his expression so open, so steady. “More than okay.”

Before Buck could ask, Eddie reached into his pocket. His hand trembled just slightly as he pulled out a small box.

Buck’s breath caught.

“Evan Buckley,” Eddie said, voice low and full of something that made Buck’s heart pound, “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You gave me hope when I thought I’d lost it, and you gave Chris a family when we both needed it most. I love you. I love Emma, I’ve loved you for a long time. I want to make us all a family. Will you marry me?”

For a moment, Buck couldn’t speak. His throat closed, his vision blurred. He opened the box with shaky fingers, revealing a simple, perfect ring.

“Yes,” Buck whispered, then louder, laughing through his tears. “Yes, of course, yes!”

Eddie slipped the ring onto his finger, and Buck cupped his face, kissing him fiercely. The night air around them, but all Buck felt was warmth, certainty, love.

When they pulled back, Buck grinned, wiping his cheeks. “Guess the kids are going to lose their minds.”

Eddie chuckled. “Chris will say ‘finally.’ Emma will say ‘don’t mess it up.’”

“Accurate,” Buck said, laughing.

They told the kids the next morning at breakfast.

Chris pumped his fist in the air. “Finally!”

Emma smirked. “Don’t mess it up.”

Buck groaned, Eddie laughed, and the four of them ended up in a tangle of hugs around the table.

Weeks later, one night after dinner, Eddie was quiet. He sat with Buck on the couch, Chris and Emma sprawled on the rug playing a video game.

“You ever think about more?” Eddie asked softly.

Buck turned, eyebrows raised. “More?”

“Kids,” Eddie clarified, his gaze flicking to where Chris and Emma were laughing. “Another one, maybe. Not now, but… someday. With you.”

Buck blinked, stunned. His chest swelled, emotions tumbling over each other. He looked at Eddie, then at the kids, then back. “I think…” He grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think we’d need a bigger house.”

Eddie laughed, the sound full and warm, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

“Guess we better start looking,” he murmured.

Buck kissed him back, his heart so full it nearly ached. “Yeah,” he whispered. “We should.”

That night, as Buck lay in bed with Eddie’s arm wrapped around him, Emma asleep down the hall, Chris snoring softly in his room, he let it sink in.

He had a daughter who was thriving. He had a partner who loved him. He had a stepson he adored. He had a family, loud, messy, imperfect, but whole.

And for the first time in his life, Buck didn’t feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He was home.

Chapter Text

Dear Journal, 

If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be living in a house with my dad, my best friend, and had a whole firehouse family around me, I would’ve laughed. Or cried. Probably both.

Back then, everything felt temporary. Every bedroom I stayed in was borrowed. Every family was one step away from packing me up and moving me on. I’d gotten used to keeping my backpack ready always ready. I still struggle to let it go, it’s a safety blanket.

Now, my backpack is just for school.

When I wake up, the walls are lavender, covered with my drawings. My sketchbooks aren’t stuffed into a bag, they’re spread across my desk, where my dad trips over them every morning and pretends he’s not impressed. (He’s impressed. I can tell.)

Down the hall, Chris is usually already awake, building something out of Lego or humming while he eats cereal. He calls me his sister even though no one signed any papers for that. He just decided it was true. And honestly? He’s right. He is my brother. 

The house smells like coffee most mornings, because Buck can’t function without it and Eddie makes it just to annoy him by saying he doesn’t know how to brew it properly. They bicker, they laugh, and I sit at the table pretending not to notice when they brush against each other on purpose. It’s weird and gross and also… kind of perfect.

I’ve never lived in a house where people tease each other and kiss across the counter. I’ve never lived anywhere I wanted to stay forever.

Now I do. I love it here.

School isn’t scary anymore. I’ve got friends. I’ve got teachers who ask about my art. I’ve got a dad who shows up to meetings and actually cares what they say about me.

He comes to every art show, every presentation. He cheers the loudest, embarrasses me the most, but I don’t mind. Because when I look out at the crowd, he’s there. Always.

Sometimes Eddie’s there too, and Chris, and Bobby, and Athena, and Hen and Chim and Maddie, and it feels like my cheering section could take on the whole school if it had to.

That’s the thing I didn’t understand before. Family isn’t just blood. It’s who shows up.

And mine always shows up. Every time they show. 

The night Buck and Eddie told us they were getting married, Chris shouted, “Finally!” and I said, “Don’t mess it up.” They both laughed so hard they cried.

But inside, I felt something else. Relief. Because I didn’t have to wonder anymore if this was temporary. They weren’t going anywhere.

Neither was I.

Sometimes, I catch my dad staring at me, like he’s still afraid I’ll vanish. He doesn’t say it, but I know what he’s thinking: that he should’ve found me sooner, that he wishes he could’ve given me this life from the start.

I don’t blame him.

I just tell him I’m here now. And he smiles, a little sad, a lot grateful.

The truth is, I don’t care about the years before. I care about now. About family dinners and movie nights and Eddie teaching me Spanish swear words when Buck’s not listening. About Chris and me sneaking extra dessert and Bobby pretending not to notice. About Athena calling me her granddaughter and Maddie taking me book shopping with Chris and Carla making sure I actually do my homework.

I used to think I didn’t belong anywhere.

Now I belong everywhere.

The other night, we were sitting in the living room, me sketching, Chris building, Buck and Eddie curled together on the couch. Eddie leaned over and kissed him, casual, soft, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And I realised it is. My dad’s, my brother. Mine. 

Normal doesn’t mean perfect. Sometimes they fight about laundry. Sometimes Buck still looks sad when he thinks no one’s watching. Sometimes I still get scared I’ll wake up and it’ll all be gone.

But then Chris bumps my shoulder and says, “C’mon, sis.” Or Buck calls me kiddo and kisses the top of my head. Or Eddie tells us both we’re his world.

And I believe them.

I don’t carry my backpack around anymore.

I carry a sketchbook instead.

Because I’m not waiting to leave anymore.

I’m home.

Forever.