Chapter Text
The sun rises over the smoggy air, turning the air from smoky gray to a yellowish tinge. Such is the reality of living in the smog infested city of Los Angeles. And Evan Buckley's lived in a lot of places, but he's never felt more at home than he does here in the polluted, overpopulated, too-many-cars hellscape that is the city of Los Angeles. Of course, his home has nothing to do with the city itself, but by the people around him. He works with family (some people more literally than others). He glances up and sees Chimney on the phone with City Hall, pacing in his office. He sees Hen sitting in the corner, laughing as she looks down at her phone with a shy smile she only reserves for her wife. Ravi is upstairs, and he can just see the flashes of the television up on the balcony as the sounds of Sora, Goofy, and Donald can be heard faintly in the background.
And then, his eyes land on the one person that makes this city feel most like home. Tall, muscular in all the right ways, an ass that contained the golden ratio, and a face that would make Michelangelo weep. Buck smiles as soon as he sees him and feels a flutter in his chest when Eddie returns that smile. Buck whistles as he heads to the locker room to change. There's a folder in his hand, the fertility clinic's insignia on the back of it. Except—his visit was quite the opposite of his last visit to that place.
He doesn't want to tell anyone yet. It's all in the preliminary planning stages. However ,the ball's already started to roll, so he knows there's one person he needs to tell first. Even if their relationship hadn't been the same in the past few months, Buck feels like he owes it to Eddie to tell him before everyone else. So he hems and haws and considers everything, approaching Eddie during their down time, and he groans in "disappointment" every time the alarms go off and they're deployed to another emergency.
It's a small one, a medical call, so Buck doesn't even really need to go. So he stays behind, beginning to work on the different chores. Eddie and Hen return a few hours later, and Eddie gets to work with Buck, unrolling the hose so they can dry brush the line side by side.
And now is as good a time as any for Buck to spill the beans. So he goes over the speech he'd written out the night before.
Eddie, I need to tell you something, he'd begin, Listen. I've been thinking, and doing a lot of research. And well—
"I want a baby," Buck blurts out, throwing the entire five page speech out the window. Immediately he drops eye contact with Eddie, looking down at the brush and looking away from Eddie as he makes this admission. The ambulance makes a remarkably good not-Eddie focal point.
He resumes his dry brush, putting more pressure on the line than he probably should and he realizes that Eddie hasn't moved a muscle. In fact, he's stilled, watching Buck closely as if he'd grown three heads. And far be it for Buck to complain about getting Eddie's absolute undivided attention, he can't help but feel a bubble of panic settle in his stomach—or maybe it's a little farther above. That's the diaphragm right? Could people panic there? Is that why it's so fucking hard to breathe? He pauses and takes a breath rubbing at his diaphragm when--
"I didn't—realize you were seeing someone?" Eddie says after the oppressive 3 seconds of silence that felt more like 3 years, the last bit of that statement tilting up as if it were a question of some sort. A question that Buck hates, because while it's technically true, the person that Buck wishes he could be seeing is standing right in front of him and it feels terrible. He'd already left Eddie's house in the middle of the night after Eddie had moved back, saying he'd get his furniture later. (And he's sure he hurt Eddie in the process). But he can't go over that line—can't make Eddie suddenly gay or into men, even if Buck is an omega.
"No—I'm not," Buck says, looking back up at Eddie. And he blinks briefly, tilting his head to the side at Eddie's inscrutable expression. His eyebrows are drawn together, practically knitting their own blanket. His lips are drawn, thin and tight. His eyes are sharp, penetrating, but not in the fun way. Like he's trying to either see through Buck, or disintegrate him with laser heat vision.
"Then why the baby talk?" Eddie asks.
Buck wonders where he lost Eddie. And then he realizes he never really tried to find Eddie to begin with, providing him with very little answers for a plethora of questions.
Buck frowns. "I didn't—realize those were mutually inclusive ideas," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.
He'd been thinking it for a while. He's still single, approaching 35—even if he met an alpha right now, it'd be at least a year of dating, a year engaged, and then it'd be pushing off what biology deems acceptable. He's already at the stage where the word "geriatric" directly precedes "pregnancy" and despite him working out, staying fit, and eating healthy; the word geriatric sends a frisson of anxiety through him that he can't shake away. That word still smells like peppermint oil and bengay. It’s one that carries risks, some life threatening—and the very thought that his uterus is a mausoleum makes Buck feel very uneasy.
And there's a part of him that doesn't want another alpha—or just any alpha. When the one he wants is the one standing right next to him. And every time Buck thinks about moving on, branching out—or trying to put this particular thought to bed, it fills him with an immense feeling of grief. But maybe—just maybe if he decides to use the Los Angeles generous omega benefits along with the FMLA leave he's entitled to, he could do this. Take enough time off to get his baby to a good place. And, on top of that he's saved enough, he's done the initial assessments that deemed him eligible to undertake this new step in his life—it makes sense—and then when he looks up he sees Eddie waving at him, trying to get his attention.
"Where'd you go?" Eddie asks, frowning when Buck's all but given up on their task.
"Look—" Buck says, trailing off. "I have some money saved up—the new house has an extra bedroom—enough for a nursery and—" He doesn't want to complete the sentence, because he knows how it sounds. It sounded that way to him when he told the social worker—
Everyone else had already moved on. Harry's a firefighter now. Eddie and Christopher had always had each other, but for some reason or another, they felt more distant from Buck than ever upon their return from Texas. And Buck hates that he can't really put a finger on what's different. Maybe because it's a number of things. They both have keys, but Buck's been knocking more and more, wanting to give the newly reunited father-son duo a chance to have their own space and privacy. They speak sometimes outside of work, but their conversations revolve around Christopher. It's not how it was, late nights on the phone with each other, early morning making pancakes—at first from a box and now a recipe Buck had perfected from scratch that tastes better than anything that could be found in restaurants. Buck still spends a lot of time with Christopher—even those scant months without him were Buck's own personal hell, but he never told Eddie that.
Buck had always felt like he lost a child too. But even with that, it feels strained, like there's something between them that Eddie refuses to put a name onto. And Buck doesn't know what it is, he knows he's uneasy with it however.
Chim and Maddie have their own family they're raising. And the only companions Buck's been able to fish for are couples only looking for their unicorn. Buck doesn't want to be a unicorn. He wants something more permanent. Something more akin to the unconditional love that stems from a child's adoration.
And ever since Maddie had shown him the Season 4 trailer for Bridgerton where Buck took a look at the single frame of Kate and Anthony's child—a monster in him began to awaken, hungrier than ever for this.
"Yeah it's not the nursery I'm talking about," Eddie says, scowling.
Buck wonders what's crawled up his ass and died. It's not like Buck is asking for a baby with him or anything. He glances up at him. "There are places I can go to, here, donation banks," Buck points out. "Anonymous sperm donors exist—and then I'm in and out and after some really painful treatments and an implantation, I could probably get pregnant within the next few weeks—"
Panic races across Eddie's face and he holds up a hand. "Wait—waitwaitwait—hold on," he says. "You started the conversation saying you were thinking about it right?"
Buck shakes his head, thinking back to the exact wording and phrasing he used. "Uh. No," he says, scratching the back of his neck. "I said I want a baby," he clarifies.
Though from the stricken confused— and is that hurt?—look on Eddie's face; he doesn't think his clarifying statement did much of any clarifying at all. Eddie's way behind him on his progress down the hose line and he resumes his task. Buck leans against the head of the broom and watches him. "So you're just gonna—do this? Go to some donation bank and pick out someone you don't even know? And just—what? Have a baby? You know they're not easy right," Eddie says, his voice bordering on a line of hysteria that confuses Buck.
"I know they're not easy," Buck says, his voice soft. "I helped with Jee, and Baby Nash—and I dunno—" he frowns. Eddie had picked him to raise Christopher—so now where was all this coming from? The fact that babies somehow weren't easy or whatever. He doesn't even know why he needs to defend himself from Eddie. This is—weird. And he definitely didn't see the conversation going like this.
"Look, I'm not asking for permission."
"Good."
And that's that.
Later when Buck's home, on FaceTime with Maddie, he looks over at his iPad on the table sitting with the pdf full of potential donors. He's about to to tell her and then remembers Eddie's—less than stellar reaction. Not wanting to relive that, he just coos happily at Baby Nash and Jee. He's about to tell Maddie something when his doorbell rings. "One sec—I'll call you back," he says, frowning when he sees Eddie on the Ring camera.
He gets up and heads to the door, tilting his head to the side. "Did you forget your key?" he asks, opening the door to a sheepish Eddie standing on the front porch, hands buried in his pocket as he rocks back and forth on his feet. He looks almost like he's guilty about something. But Buck knows how stubborn Eddie can be sometime and he's fully ready for a round two of the argument, and maybe he can finally use that five page speech he'd prepared. And now Eddie's talking.
"Oh—no. After today—I—" he peers in behind Buck and Buck immediately steps to the side and lets him in. "I owe you an apology, Buck," Eddie says as soon as Buck closes the door.
Buck tilts his head to the side. And then he thinks about the way Eddie reacted to his news at work. "Oh—oh no don't worry about it," he says, holding a hand up and waving at Eddie to try to stave off his apology. Eddie never apologizes, and Buck realizes that he must feel really guilty, and his own first instinct is to protect.
"Don't do that," Eddie says. "I was a dick. I had no excuse to respond that way, this is your life, I'm here. I'm going to be supportive."
Buck feels relief coursing through him—followed by a bitter tinge of disappointment. Which. He wonders why he feels that. It's—what he wanted right? For Eddie to be supportive as he takes on this new step in his life.
So he does what he does best: Compartmentalize.
"So. Team Baby Buck," Eddie says, clapping his hands together. "Where do we start?"
Buck blinks. Cause. This is a massive amount of support and he wasn't expecting this. "We?" He asks.
Eddie puts a hand on his shoulder. "We," he repeats. "After everything you've done for me and Christopher? I'm in. With you. Whatever you need."
Buck's eyes begin to burn and he feels a lump rise in his throat. And he can't even blame his not-pregnancy for what he's feeling right now. All he knows is that he's grateful for Eddie's help and support. Isn't he? He surges forward and pulls Eddie into a hug, throwing his arms around his neck and burying his face in Eddie's neck. Eddie's hands move to settle on his waist and he takes a deep breath, feeling more settled and at home than he has in a while.
Things have been weird, to say the least, since Eddie's returned from Texas. There was a strain between them that had never existed before—really it'd been there since Eddie had hugged him and wished him goodbye.
"This thing between us was messy and hard—"
And as Buck watched him drive away, that messy and hard thing became almost insurmountable. Eddie had done the unthinkable and without intending to, had shattered a fragile part of Buck's heart he'd slowly been piecing back together. Buck just didn't realize that he'd given Eddie that part of his heart. He'd left. And for good reason—for his son. And that kind of devotion—that unconditional love—Buck wanted it. He wants it so bad it hurts sometimes. He feels like a ghost in his own house—walking around, the ever intensifying loneliness eating him up inside. Something in him that settles him when he holds Baby Nash in his arms—or Jee asks impishly for more of his cookies.
And maybe—just maybe—if he has someone to focus on that's not himself. Maybe he'll be less lonely.
But more than that, he's always wanted to be a mother. Wanted it so bad that he'd always shoved a pillow under his shirt when he was a child (and didn't even know how he was going to present, though he'd always prayed for Omega). And now—it feels right. He even has the mental health assessment to prove it. That this isn't a fluke, he'd thought this through. Of course it had started with the social worker seeing right through him—but Buck doesn't think about that. He just thinks about the fact that she'd signed off on him doing this—taking this step.
He pulls away and clears his throat. "Yeah—so uh—I've already had my first few meetings. Had to meet with a mental health expert to prove that I wasn't just—y'know. Doing this for the wrong reasons," he says, sitting down on the couch.
Eddie sits on a chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he steeples his fingers and listens to Buck. And Buck feels—well he doesn't know how he feels really. This level of support from Eddie is, well it feels good but it also feels really really bad in a way that Buck can't really explain. It's just. Not right. He'd expected more of the meltdown at the firehouse earlier.
"And then I met with a fertility nurse—" he grabs the iPad to show Eddie the after clinic summaries. "So now I just have to start my fertility treatments—and while I do that, I'm gonna go through the sperm bank catalogue and pick who I want," Buck says, his hands beginning to shake as he pulls the iPad over to himself. After a few aborted attempts at putting in the passcode, he remembers that it uses his fingerprint, and he gets into it. And yeah maybe he's trying to buy a little more time before he includes Eddie in this journey, but soon he can't stall much further, so he swaps the app over to his pdf reader and shows Eddie the final contenders.
"I can't decide between any of them though."
"Well easy, I can help with that," Eddie says, swiping the iPad from Buck before scrolling through. "Well this one isn't so bad—Harvard graduate, no birth defects, half Indian—" he scrolls through. "Oh but he's a Raiders fan," Eddie says, making a face. That scrunched up one where his eyebrows furrow together and his eyes almost close. It's adorable. "Fuck that."
Buck laughs softly. He feels like he's going through a rollercoaster of emotions, up and down—but Eddie definitely mistakes his laughter as making fun of him about the football thing. And yeah, Buck may have played football in high school, he's just never been that into teams, well besides Penn State of course.
Ah. Maybe he understands Eddie's pickiness on this matter.
"Hey that shit is genetic, Cowboys or bust," Eddie says with a sagelike nod. Though he follows it with a soft laugh, leaning back and rubbing his chin while looking up at Buck through eyelashes that should honestly be illegal.
Buck rolls his eyes. "I mean, I figure you're probably gonna be responsible for his or her sports education," he says.
Eddie shrugs as if that's beyond obvious. And Buck feels something twist but also another part of him that really loves this.
Eddie looks back up at him, something unreadable in his expression when he hands over the iPad. Female alpha. "How about this one? She's a doctor, ton of charity work, favorite Star Trek is Enterprise—you like Trek right?"
"Yeah but ew not Enterprise," Buck says, making a face. "Next." Enterprise over TNG? Or Voyager? Or even DS-9. Nooo thank you. Buck can't fix that.
Eddie rolls his eyes and looks through the next one. "There's a couple of betas here," he muses.
Buck nods. "I didn't wanna like—just filter by Alphas," he says. "I mean, it doesn't mean anything. I think there's an omega or two in there," he adds.
"Omega male, apparently this one is a chess prodigy—" Eddie says, reading through the qualifications. "Man this is more in depth than a dating profile—but I'm kinda digging this guy. PhD from UCSD, mom's from Mexico, dad's from Puerto Rico, seems healthy, tall for an omega—" and then he glances up at Buck. "And you'd have me to teach the kid his or her culture," he adds. "Christopher won't like the chess thing—" he trails off before swiping down through the list.
As he watches Eddie go through the list of potential sperm donors, Buck feels a pang in his chest. An uneasiness. Eddie's far too eager to help him do this. But isn't that what he wanted? That support? Someone to stand by his side as he took a step into his own future. But—none of the donors feel right, to Buck. All he wants is a 35 year old half Mexican, half Swedish, firefighter sperm donor. Someone in the military--but someone who's already an amazing father. His eyes begin to sting again and he shakes his head.
"I don't know," he says, looking down at the ground where his carpet is beginning to fray.
Eddie picks up at his mood downturn and looks at Buck. "Hey, you okay there?" He shifts over so he's sitting next to Buck, lifting a hand to pat his back.
"It's just a lot," Buck admits, looking down at the water bottle that had been on the table before. He's shredded the label around it in his nervousness, needing something to do with his hands before he did something super embarassing like try to hold Eddie's hand and subsequently beg for him to be the father of his child.
"I mean, you wanted to do this—" Eddie points out. And he's about to say something when Buck feels panic—because he really does want to do this, all things considered.
"No no!" Buck interrupts, holding up a hand. "I do! I really do!" He takes a deep breath and rubs his hands together before leaning back. "None of them feel right, y'know?"
Eddie frowns and stares down at the iPad. "Yeah it feels really impersonal," he agrees.
"Connor and Kameron couldn't even do this," Buck says, laughing. "They ended up coming to me, and now honestly I'm kinda understanding why."
At that, Eddie grows even more thoughtful, looking at Buck, his eyes meeting his and Buck feels like there's a giant spotlight settling in on him, and it feels weird and he doesn't like it. He cowers slightly under Eddie's unblinking gaze.
"I mean, think about it, if it's someone you've known for a while—it's easier, right? I feel like they background check these guys, but, it's still a stranger," Buck says. He leans back, draping his body alongside the couch, a hand over his eyes as he tries to rub out the pressure forming behind there.
"Do you ever see them?" Eddie asks. "Connor and Kameron?"
Buck opens an eye and glances over at Eddie, taking a deep sighing breath. "Yeah uh—I get a Christmas card from them every year. They moved back to Ohio though, so apart from that, I never see them," Buck says, shrugging. "But here's the problem—it's not like I know that many people who I think would be okay with donating sperm," he says. "How do you even start the conversation. Hi! I'm Buck Buckley, can I have your baby?"
Eddie snorts. "Yeah," he says. "That's pretty much it isn't it?" He asks, laughing. "Most awkward conversation ever." He sighs. "But it makes sense why you'd go to someone you know, plus then, you kinda know what to expect."
Buck laughs as well, leaning back forward and looking up at Eddie. "Why, you volunteering?" He teases, keeping his eyes fixated on Eddie.
Eddie looks back at him, and Buck's sure he's going to call his bluff when he says. "Yeah. Maybe I am," he says.
Buck frowns. His stomach drops to his feet and his eyes widen as he glances back up at Eddie who suddenly seems just as shocked as Buck feels. What the fuck? "Wait. Come again?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. Cause no this can't be true, right? Absolutely not. There's no fucking way Eddie just volunteered to be the father of Buck's baby. It's like a horrible nightmare and dream all at once; like the gods of fate have a sense of humor. His desperate pleas to have Eddie be the father of his baby were somehow answered and yet, it's like they found a loophole.
He scoots away on the couch to the other end, and he doesn't mistake the disappointment and flash of hurt in Eddie's eyes, as well as a sharp tang in the air as his scent changes. And just like that, it's gone, and he's back to neutral, getting thoughtful as he gestures, trying to pick his words carefully.
"Why not me?" Eddie asks. "You know me, I mean—I think you like me—" And the sheer audacity and dramatic irony of him saying that when he's all Buck thinks about on any given day— "My family history is good—and I know I didn't exactly go to Harvard—but I can use the GI Bill any time I want to go to school, and—"
Buck blinks. Wait. Is Eddie actually serious? He listens to Eddie yapping away about his family history when he continues to think. He doesn't realize that Eddie's stopped talking but he knows one thing for sure. One thing that none of any of the other sperm donors have. Fuck Harvard. Fuck Yale. Fuck Penn. None of them are Eddie.
So he sighs and finally says. "Okay. But only if you're sure."
Eddie nods. "I am," he says. And even though Buck thought he was joking before, this feels less like a joke and more like he's making a promise that makes Buck feel absolutely insane inside. His stomach does several flips and he opens his mouth to speak, but finds that he's incapable of forming words, and even if he could form words, his throat is incredibly dry and wouldn't be able to convey said words.
"Hey, if you don't—want this, I can keep looking," Eddie says and as soon as those words are out of his mouth Buck sits up—
"No! I mean. Of course—that'd be—you'd be perfect," he says. Before he blinks and clears his throat. "Just so you know, sperm donation kinda sucks—you can't masturbate like, for weeks, cause you need to save everything for your deposit—"
Eddie laughs at that, a full big belly one that makes Buck feel—weird and twisty inside, in a way that he's always felt with regard to Eddie Diaz. "I don't think that'll be a problem," he says.
Buck clears his throat. "And uh—like. It'd be a baby—your baby. You'd be okay with that?"
"I mean I've never wanted Christopher to be an only child," Eddie muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
"Wait—only child—so you'd wanna be involved?" Buck asks, his voice quiet. His body fills with warmth as he pictures them—pictures Christopher with the little baby Buck. And he's filled with such a deep sort of longing he almost can't breathe.
Also there's that traitorous scheming part of him that wants this. That says that if they do this together, Eddie will be tied to Buck for the rest of their lives, and it'd be a bond that could never be broken. Now Eddie could never leave him again. And just like Buck does with any negative thought or thought he deems too negative for polite company, he shoves them down into the deep recesses of his mind, never to see the light of day ever again.
There's a silence lingering between them though, and Eddie finally breaks it. "I mean—only if you'd want me to be. I don't think—I could not not be involved, we raised Christopher together," he says as if it's not an incredibly unhinged thing to say. "I'd be the kid's father anyways, might as well make it genetic."
Father but like, in a platonic way, Buck corrects Eddie in the safety of his own mind. Because that's all Eddie is to him, his best friend. His straight best friend who's only into females of any secondary gender.
"But even if I do it, it's your decision whether or not you wanna say who their dad is," Eddie says, and as soon as he says that, Buck senses a change in his scent. From uneasy and slightly uncomfortable to twisting to one of despair and a deeply sour note. But he doesn't put any of those scents into words, so he stares hopefully at Buck and leaves the decision fully in Buck's hands.
"Of course, I'd never keep that from you," Buck says softly. "If you're his or her dad—I'd—if you wanted to be, like—you don't have to be involved—"
"I want to be," Eddie gently interrupts and insists. "As I said, I'm here for you, even if you pick someone else."
And it feels so very much too good to be true, Buck's heart begins to twist unpleasantly and he looks down at his lap. "So you'd be okay with this?"
"More than okay. I can't let you just pick someone random out of a hat. Someone whose name you don't know—and I'm not going to let you do this alone," Eddie adds. "You want a kid? Let's get you a kid."
He reaches out and lays his hand on Buck's leg and Buck feels a shiver trailing up his leg and through his spine. He swallows once nervously and looks over at Eddie before he beams, his face breaking into a huge smile.
"And—" Eddie continues. "As a veteran, the kids would get all my benefits as well," Eddie reasons. "So pretty much everything—college, school, whatever—you got it."
And wait-what?! Kids?! Plural—oh right Christopher. Buck sighs in, is it relief? Or something else. He's just feeling a little overwhelmed. But. It's good. Eddie makes several good points and maybe—just maybe—having a child together will mean that Buck will have something of Eddie's and that'll be enough. He won't need anything more. He'll be content with this for the rest of his life.
He reaches out and lays his hand over top of Eddie's, trailing a thumb over the back of his hand idly. He half expects him to pull back, but what he doesn't expect is Eddie turning his hand around and lacing their fingers together. Platonically of course.
If that moment on the street when Eddie drove off was the end of something—this is the beginning of something new.
And Buck feels something he hasn't felt in a very long time:
Hope.