Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Station 118 was quiet. Too quiet.

Buck hated mornings like this—still and slow and soaked in that brittle kind of silence that made your skin itch. He sat on the locker room bench with his boots half-laced, bouncing his leg and staring at the floor like it had answers.

“You’re humming,” Eddie said from behind him.

Buck looked up, startled. “What?”

“That stupid furniture jingle. The one Chris sings when he wants to annoy you.”

Buck groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Jesus. Am I?”

Eddie leaned against the row of lockers, coffee in hand. “You only do that when your nerves are crawling.”

“I’m not nervous,” Buck lied.

Eddie gave him a look—one of those patented Diaz specials that said, I know you better than you know yourself. He didn’t push. Just took a sip of his coffee and added, “You’ve been twitchy all week.”

“I don’t know,” Buck admitted. “Everything’s been… louder lately. Like, weirdly loud. Sirens, traffic, your heartbeat—”

“My heartbeat?” Eddie’s eyebrows lifted.

Buck winced. “Okay, yeah, that sounds insane.”

“It doesn’t,” Eddie said carefully. “Just… maybe talk to someone? Or at least keep an eye on it.”

There was something in his tone that made Buck pause. Something deeper than concern. He looked at Eddie and for a breathless second, the whole world stilled. A flicker of something passed between them—warm, electric, ancient. It curled under Buck’s skin like recognition.

Then the station alarm sounded & radios crackled.

“All units, be advised—five-alarm structure fire downtown. Multiple civilian entrapments. Fire has jumped containment. 118, you are primary backup—respond Code Three immediately.”

Maddie’s voice. No room for error in her tone.

The tension in the air snapped like a wire. Eddie’s coffee hit the trash as Buck shot to his feet, both of them moving before their minds could catch up.

Bobby’s voice bellowed from the bay. “Gear up! Let’s move!”

Buck’s heart slammed against his ribs. His body was vibrating with something he couldn’t name. Static filled his lungs. The hum in his spine had become a roar.

Eddie met his eyes across the rig. No words. Just that same electric current charging between them.

Then they were in motion—sirens screaming, lights flashing, the city falling away behind them as they sped toward the blaze.

Buck didn’t know how he knew.

But something was about to change.

The fire was already roaring when 118 rolled onto the scene.

Twelve floors of steel and glass were coughing smoke into the sky like a dying god, flames chewing through the upper levels with terrifying speed. Sirens wailed, water arced from ladder trucks, and civilians were shouting, crying, scrambling behind police tape.

Bobby leapt down from the engine, motioning Buck, Eddie, Chim, and Ravi to follow. They crossed to the incident command tent where Captain Mehta was hunched over a street schematic, radio pressed tight to his ear.

“Captain Nash,” Mehta greeted, grim. “Glad you’re here. We’ve got at least three dozen residents still unaccounted for. Fire started on eight, already spread to eleven. Elevators are dead. Stairs on the south side are holding—for now.”

Bobby nodded, eyes scanning the building. “Where do you need us?”

Mehta pointed. “Start with floors five through eight. Sweep fast. Evacuate everyone you find. We’ve got a secondary team clearing the west wing stairwell.”

“Buck, Eddie, Chim, Ravi—you’re up,” Bobby ordered without hesitation. “Mask up, move fast. Don’t be a hero.”

“Copy that,” Buck said, already securing his helmet.

The four of them moved like clockwork—buddies in, two-and-two, scanning rooms, guiding panicked residents down the stairwells. Smoke coiled through the halls. Alarms screamed from every direction. Ravi’s voice crackled in Buck’s ear, confirming the seventh floor was clear.

“I’m bringing two down now,” Chim added, already halfway back to the exit. “Should be back out in two minutes.”

Buck moved through the sixth floor, Eddie right behind him, calling out room numbers and hammering on doors.

“LAFD! Anyone inside?”

They found a woman sheltering in a bathroom, barely conscious from smoke. Eddie swept her up, arm around her shoulders as Buck cleared a path back toward the stairwell.

And then—

“All units,” Bobby’s voice broke through their comms, sharp and tight. “Evacuate immediately. I repeat, evacuate the building. Structure is no longer stable.”

The floor groaned beneath them.

“Go!” Buck barked.

They ran.

Through the thinning smoke, Buck caught sight of daylight ahead. He hit the exit first, stumbling into the open air, lungs seizing from the sudden change.

He turned to look back—

And the world blew apart.

A massive roar ripped through the building as the upper floors collapsed inward, coughing flame and steel into the sky. The shockwave hurled Buck across the street. He slammed into the pavement and skidded, helmet cracking hard against the asphalt.

Everything hurt. Everything rattled.

Buck tried to push up, ears ringing.

“Eddie—?” he croaked.

But the doorway was gone.

The place where Eddie should have been was swallowed in fire and debris.

Something inside Buck shattered.

The world narrowed to instinct. His vision blurred at the edges—too sharp, too bright. He could hear everything. Feel everything. Smell ash, blood, sweat, panic.

His pupils dilated. His breath ragged.

And for the first time in his life, Evan Buckley’s eyes burned red.

Chapter Text

Everything tasted like ash and blood.

Buck staggered, one hand digging into the concrete to anchor himself as the collapsed building continued to scream. Sirens wailed. People shouted. But it was all wrong—too loud, too sharp, too close.

His lungs burned. His gear was torn. There was debris in his hair, his mouth, under his skin. But none of that mattered.

Because Eddie hadn’t come out.

Buck could still feel where Eddie had been—five steps behind him, guiding that woman, breathing hard through the mask, hand brushing Buck’s shoulder as they turned toward the exit.

He should have been right there.

“Eddie!” Buck’s voice cracked through the smoke. “Eddie!”

Chim was suddenly beside him, grabbing his arm. “Buck! You’re hurt—lie down, let us—”

Buck flinched away, feral. “He’s in there. I have to get to him.”

“Buck,” Bobby said, approaching carefully. “We don’t know if—”

“He’s alive,” Buck snarled. “I can hear him.”

Everyone froze.

Ravi blinked. “You can what?”

Buck was already rising. His senses were spinning, collapsing inward and exploding outward all at once. He could feel the heartbeat buried deep in the wreckage—sluggish, thready, but still there. Could smell Eddie’s blood on scorched concrete, feel the subtle weight of his presence like gravity anchoring him to the earth.

His eyes burned.

Everything split.

Blue flickered to red, then back again, like warning lights stuttering in a storm. Buck gasped, choking on sensation. His hands clawed at his helmet, ripping it off as the noise spiked into something wrong—a howling, spiraling pitch that lived in the back of his skull and wouldn’t stop.

“Buck—!” Bobby shouted.

Too late.

Buck screamed.

A psychic shockwave tore out of him like lightning, invisible but undeniable. It knocked Ravi to his knees. Chim gasped, clutching his head. A paramedic nearby stumbled back, eyes wide in primal fear.

And then—

Stillness.

The world held its breath.

Buck stood in the middle of it all, vibrating with something ancient and wild. His eyes were glowing now—red ringed in gold, inhuman and beautiful and terrifying. He was shaking, chest heaving, jaw clenched.

“I have to get to him,” he said again, voice rough and thick.

Bobby stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning him like he was facing down a cornered predator. “Okay,” he said, quiet but steady. “Then we go in together.”

Ravi blinked. “Cap—”

Bobby didn’t break eye contact. “Chim. Ravi. You’re with us.”

Buck was already moving before Bobby finished speaking.

Toward the wreckage. Toward Eddie.

Toward the fire that was no longer the most dangerous thing on the scene.

Somewhere across the city, birds took flight all at once.

At the Los Angeles Sentinel & Guide Center, every bonded pair paused mid-breath. A healer dropped her pen. A trainee flinched so hard he fell from his chair. A low thrumming sound — ancient, unfamiliar, Alpha — echoed down the hallways like the beat of a war drum no one remembered teaching. Several latens started coming online, one after the other like dominoes.

In one of the private conference rooms, Jim Ellison stood slowly. His eyes flared ice-blue.

Blair Sandburg swore softly. “What the hell was that?”

Jim didn’t answer.

He was already moving.

Buck didn’t remember making it to the rubble.

Didn’t remember climbing over still-smoking beams, over shattered glass and bent rebar that bit into his gloves and knees and thoughts. Everything narrowed to one truth, written in blood and instinct:

Eddie was alive.

He could feel him now, beneath everything. That heartbeat — fading, fractured — but real. Real enough to pull Buck forward like a magnet. Real enough to rip something wide open inside his chest.

Heat rolled over him. Voices blurred. Someone called his name.

He didn’t stop.

Buck dropped to his knees and pressed both palms flat against a cracked slab of concrete. His breath stuttered.

The world fractured.

Suddenly, every sense he’d ever known exploded.

He could hear ants crawling three blocks away. Taste the rust in the water from the nearest hydrant. Feel vibrations of footfalls on the street like drumbeats in his bones. Ravi’s breathing. Chim’s pulse. Bobby’s focus sharpening behind him like a blade.

But none of it mattered.

Because beneath it all—under the noise, under the fire, under the chaos—was Eddie.

Buck’s mouth opened in a silent cry. His back arched, muscles seizing as the pressure crushed him, built inside his skull, keened like an old, old song breaking free from a sealed room.

His eyes flickered again—blue, red, blue, red—until finally they settled into something darker. Blood-colored. Primal. Glowing in the smoke.

He roared.

Not from rage.

From recognition.

“Jim, slow down!” Blair panted, catching up as they cut across the debris field. “You felt that too, right? That wasn’t just—”

“He’s an Alpha Sentinel,” Jim said, voice grim with certainty.

“No—he’s the Alpha Sentinel,” Blair corrected, breath catching. “That flare wasn’t just a coming online—it was a bond signature trying to stabilize. Which means—”

“He found his Guide,” Jim said, already pulling out his phone to alert the hospital.

Blair’s brow furrowed as another residual pulse rippled across his senses. “But the bond’s incomplete. Flaring wild, unstable. His Guide hasn’t come online yet.”

Jim glanced over. “Unconscious?”

“Has to be. Or injured. Maybe both.”

They kept moving, urgency in every step.

“But that signature?” Blair murmured, almost to himself. “The kind of pull it’s generating? If the Guide’s anywhere near as strong as the Sentinel…”

Jim nodded slowly, eyes sharp as a blade. “Then we’re looking at something the world hasn’t seen in decades. Since our bonding.”

“Probably a Shaman,” Blair finished, voice low. “He hasn’t awakened yet—but when he does... everything changes.”

Back at the collapse site, Bobby stood behind Buck with his hands raised in a slow, careful motion, like he was approaching a wounded animal.

Buck didn’t see him.

Didn’t hear him.

His hands trembled over the wreckage as he zeroed in on the precise spot where Eddie’s presence was strongest. He didn’t understand what he was doing. Didn’t care. Instinct was doing the work now, stripping him down to muscle and bone and need.

To find.

To protect.

To claim.

Somewhere under the rubble, Eddie Diaz — unconscious and bleeding — shivered.

And somewhere behind Buck, the air shifted again.

Jim and Blair had arrived.

“Don’t touch him!”

Buck’s voice cracked through the chaos like lightning, sharp enough to make the nearest paramedic flinch. He was crouched over Eddie’s body, hands braced in the rubble, eyes glowing red and wrong.

A low growl rumbled in his throat.

Chim jumped in, arms raised. “Back off! Nobody touches him unless they wanna lose a hand!”

The medics froze.

Ravi edged forward. “He’s completely gone feral.”

“No,” Bobby said, voice grave. “He’s protecting his Guide.”

And Buck—he didn’t hear any of it. He couldn’t. His world had narrowed to the wreckage beneath him, to the faint pulse he could feel under Eddie’s skin, the blood leaking out too fast, the smoke still curling around them. His own breathing came in short, feral bursts.

“He’s not safe,” Buck rasped. “I can’t let anyone near him. You’ll take him. You’ll break the bond.”

“We’re not trying to take him,” Chim said gently, palms up. “We just want to help—”

A fresh wave of sirens cut through the air.

Two men strode toward the caution tape with purpose—one tall and battle-hardened, the other sharp-eyed and intense, curls damp with sweat from the run.

Whispers rippled through the line of officers guarding the perimeter.

“Is that—?” one officer whispered.

“That’s Alpha Sentinel Ellison and Alpha Guide Sandburg.”

“From the Council?”

“The Alpha pair. Of the whole damn country.”

No one dared speak louder than a murmur. For a moment, the chaos behind the line seemed to still.

The closest officer stepped forward, nervous despite everything. “Sirs, this scene is unstable. We have a feral Alpha inside the collapse zone. We can’t—”

“We already know who’s in there,” Alpha Guide Sandburg said, voice even but cutting through the air like a blade. “That Sentinel came online with a signature that echoed across the entire west coast.”

Alpha Sentinel Ellison’s voice cut in, cold and precise. “If we don’t get to him and his Guide now, the sensory collapse will kill them both. And depending on how wide his radius has expanded, it could take out this entire block.”

The officer swallowed hard. “We weren’t briefed on—”

“Because there wasn’t time for a briefing,” Sandburg snapped. “You’re not just looking at a new Alpha. You’re looking at a potential uncontrolled bond lock. If they crash before the connection stabilizes, it won’t be quiet.”

A tense beat passed.

Then Bobby arrived, fury simmering under soot and sweat.

“You know who they are,” he said. “You know what happens if you piss off the Council. And you know what that Sentinel is capable of if this spins out. That’s one of mine in there—both of them are. So unless you want your badge handed to you by The Council or worse—move the damn tape.”

No one argued after that.

The tape lifted.

Buck felt them before he saw them.

His head snapped up. A low growl vibrated in his chest, teeth bared. Every fiber of him screamed keep them away.

But then—

Blair stepped forward, hands open, voice calm.

“You’re not wrong, you know,” he said gently. “He is yours. You felt the bond start, didn’t you? That sense that the whole damn world just rearranged itself around him?”

Buck’s breath hitched.

Blair knelt slowly, keeping eye contact. “He’s your Guide. And you’re his Sentinel. Alpha-class. That kind of bond? It’s rare. It’s sacred. And it’s strong enough to burn through both of you if you’re not careful.”

Buck blinked, and something flickered in his gaze—recognition, maybe. A fraying edge catching on something softer.

Jim moved in behind Blair, solid as stone. “We’re here to help you protect him, Evan.”

“How do you know my name?” Buck whispered.

Jim didn’t flinch. “Because the moment you came online, the entire city felt it. You sent out a psychic flare powerful enough to shake the walls at the Sentinel & Guide Center.”

Blair offered a half-smile. “Which, by the way, was super rude.”

A startled, broken sound escaped Buck’s throat — halfway between a laugh and a sob. He sagged, body still braced over Eddie but no longer radiating fury. His eyes dimmed, flickering back toward blue.

“He’s hurt,” Buck murmured. “I can’t lose him.”

Jim nodded. “Then let’s get him out of here. Together.”

The ambulance doors slammed open before the rig even stopped moving.

Buck was out first—helmet gone, soot-streaked and shaking, one hand on the stretcher like he could will Eddie’s heart to keep beating just by holding on. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t have to.

Eddie was everything.

“32 year old male,” Hen shouted as they wheeled the gurney into the trauma bay. “Severe concussion, suspected internal bleeding, possible spinal trauma—non-responsive at scene!”

The trauma team surged forward before stopping abruptly.

Because Buck growled.

It wasn’t a sound meant for people. It was something deeper—more animal than man. His body shifted, braced like he might lunge. The red in his eyes flared. His hand never left Eddie’s chest.

“Is he feral?” the trauma lead whispered.

“He’s unbonded,” Jim Ellison answered, stepping through the chaos like it didn’t touch him. “And clinging to his Guide who hasn’t come online yet.”

“Great,” the doctor muttered. “We’ve got a critical patient and a ticking bomb.”

“We’re past ticking,” Blair said quietly. “He’s primed for collapse.”

Buck stood over the gurney like a sentinel carved from fire and blood, chest heaving, jaw clenched. He flinched at the beep of every monitor, hissed at the fluorescent lights, snarled when someone got too close.

“You can’t touch him,” he rasped. “He’s mine. You’ll take him.”

“We’re not here to take him,” Blair said gently, moving into Buck’s line of sight with practiced ease. “We’re here to help you keep him.”

Buck shook his head, frantic. “They’ll move him. I won’t know where he is. I won’t feel him—”

“You will,” Jim cut in. “You’ve already felt him through smoke and steel. You think a few walls are going to break that?”

Buck didn’t answer, just curled more protectively over Eddie.

“Evan,” Blair said softly. “Let them help. Stay with him. Don’t leave his side. But let them do their job. Or you’ll lose him anyway.”

It was that last line that broke through.

Buck’s face crumpled. He pressed both palms to Eddie’s chest like a prayer.

Then, slowly—so slowly—he nodded.

Blair signaled to the team. “Approach slowly. Hands visible. No sudden moves.”

The trauma staff came in like dancers, cautious and precise.

Blair stepped beside Buck, one hand hovering near his arm—not touching. Jim mirrored him on the other side. Between them, Buck stayed upright. Stayed focused.

Didn’t fall apart.

“Okay,” the doctor said, snapping on gloves. “Let’s save your Guide.”

Chapter Text

The room was too quiet.

Monitors beeped in steady rhythm. The IV pump hissed softly every few minutes. Somewhere down the hallway, a nurse laughed too loudly, and Buck’s jaw tightened.

No one could convince Buck to leave the hospital, but someone had at least brought him clean clothes—Sentinel-safe detergent, no synthetic scents. He still looked like hell, but at least he didn’t smell like smoke and adrenaline anymore. His hand curled gently around Eddie’s. His thumb traced slowly over knuckles bruised and stiff beneath the IV lines.

“They said your brain activity looks good,” he murmured. “That you’re stable. It's just up to you now.”

He swallowed hard. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie didn’t move.

Buck hadn’t slept. He couldn’t. Every time his eyes closed, his senses spiraled out, grasping for Eddie’s pulse, Eddie’s breathing, Eddie’s presence. His Guide—not bonded, not yet—but his in a way Buck couldn’t name before and couldn’t ignore now.

He wasn’t supposed to know. Not like this. Not this soon.

But the universe hadn’t asked for permission.

A soft knock tapped against the silence.

Buck turned, already on edge—but stopped short when the door opened and Christopher stepped inside.

Crutches clicked against tile. His steps were careful, measured, and too quiet for a kid his age. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he didn’t cry. He just came forward like gravity was pulling him straight to the bed.

“Hey,” Buck said, rising instinctively. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I told Abuela I had to be here,” Chris said softly. “Is it true?”

Buck blinked. “What is?”

“That you’re a Sentinel. You came online to save dad.”

He hesitated. Then nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

Chris moved to Eddie’s side and placed his hand gently over his dad’s. He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost too steady.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to my mom,” he said. “Didn’t even know she was gone until it was over.”

Buck’s chest went tight.

Chris stared at Eddie’s face like he was willing him to wake up. “I just… I needed to see he’s still here.”

“He is,” Buck said quietly. “He’s okay. Just resting.”

Chris nodded once, sharp and sure. Then he looked up, eyes locking on Buck’s.

“You’re not going anywhere either, right?”

Buck blinked. “No. I’m right here.”

Chris nodded again, satisfied. “Good.”

And just like that—something shifted.

Not the bond Buck was waiting for. Not the one tethered to the man unconscious in the bed.

But another one. Just as fierce. Just as real.

A parental bond.

It anchored in Buck’s chest like it had always been waiting for this moment. The noise in his head eased. His focus narrowed—not in fear, not in instinct, but in belonging. And with it came something Buck hadn’t dared let himself believe.

That he mattered.

That he was Christopher’s.

Not just Eddie’s best friend. Not just the helper. Not just the guy who always showed up. But family.

Without thinking, Buck dropped to one knee beside the bed and opened his arms.

Christopher didn’t hesitate.

They didn’t cry.

But Buck felt something inside him settle for the first time since the fire.

Eventually, Christopher pulled back, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. He didn’t cry. Not really. Just looked tired in that way kids shouldn’t.

Buck stayed crouched beside him, one hand still resting lightly on Chris’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything. Just waited.

Chris was the one who broke the silence. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Buck’s heart cracked a little.

“I know,” he said gently.

Chris’s gaze dropped to his dad’s hand on the hospital bed. “Last time… with Mom... I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t even know she was gone until after.”

The air shifted.

Buck inhaled slowly, steadying himself. “I remember.”

Chris’s voice was quieter now. “What if… what if it happens again? What if I’m not here?”

Buck reached up, curling his hand around the back of Chris’s neck and drawing their foreheads close. “Your dad’s not dying, Chris. He’s a little hurt but he is healing. And he’s strong—you know that better than anyone.”

“But he hasn’t woken up.”

“Not yet,” Buck said, firm and steady. “But he will. And I’ll be here when he does. I swear to you, you’ll be the first person I tell.”

Chris hesitated. “Swear on your Sentinel senses?”

Buck huffed a quiet laugh, eyes stinging. “Swear on all five of ‘em.”

That earned a small, crooked smile.

Chris nodded, but the weight in his chest didn’t lift. “Okay. Just... don’t let him forget I was here.”

“I won’t. I’ll tell him you were by his side. That you held his hand. That you were brave, just like him.”

Chris looked at his dad one more time. Then leaned over and pressed a kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand.

“I love you, Dad,” he whispered.

He stood slowly, and Buck rose with him. At the door, Chris turned, gaze flicking between Eddie and Buck. “You’ll call?”

“The second anything changes.”

“Okay.” Chris lingered a beat longer, then slipped into Buck’s arms one more time. The hug was tighter this time, full of quiet trust.

Then he left.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And the room was quiet again.

Too quiet.

Buck exhaled and sank into the chair beside Eddie’s bed. He reached out, curling his fingers once more around Eddie’s hand.

“Okay,” he whispered. “He’s safe. Your turn now.”

The room stayed still after that.

Buck didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just sat there with Eddie’s hand in his, listening to the rhythms of the hospital: the steady blip of the heart monitor, the gentle hiss of the IV pump, the occasional distant rattle of a gurney wheel against tile.

Time lost shape. Minutes bled into each other.

Buck didn’t care.

He’d promised Chris he’d stay. He meant it.

So when it happened—when Eddie stirred—it was subtle at first. Barely a twitch beneath Buck’s thumb. A tiny spasm in the fingers wrapped in his.

A twitch in Eddie’s fingers. A sharp inhale through dry lips. Buck felt it before he saw it—sensed it in his bones, like the entire world tilted.

Then Eddie’s eyes opened.

They landed on Buck like they’d been looking for him the whole time.

The bond snapped into place.

“Buck…” Eddie rasped, voice low and wrecked.

Buck leaned forward, hand already wrapped tight around his. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Eddie sucked in another breath—and the change hit like lightning. His pupils blew wide. His body flinched like it had been struck. Buck felt the air shift around them, sharp and charged.

Eddie drew in a sharp breath—and the shift hit like a shockwave. His pupils blew wide. His senses surged into the world with terrifying force.

Down the hallway, machines beeped wildly. The lights flickered. A wave passed through the entire hospital.

Blair staggered outside the room, bracing a hand on the wall. “Oh. Oh, damn.”

Jim caught him instinctively. “Eddie?”

“He’s a Shaman,” Blair breathed. “Shit, he’s loud. Just like I was.”

Jim nodded once. “You feel the others?”

“All around us. Coming online, just like at the fire.”

Inside the room, Eddie clung to Buck’s hand like it was the only solid thing in the world.

“I feel everything,” Eddie whispered, panicked. “The lights. The heart monitors. Someone crying three rooms away. I can feel your heartbeat in my own chest—what’s happening to me?”

Buck cupped the side of his face. “You’re coming online. As a Guide.”

Eddie shook his head hard. “No. I wasn’t supposed to— They said I was too weak. That I’d never come online.”

“They were wrong,” Buck said, steady and sure.

“I don’t understand—”

“You don’t have to,” Buck whispered. “You just have to stay with me. Focus on my voice.”

Then Blair entered the room.

Eddie felt him before he saw him. That steady, grounding weight of another presence cut through the chaos in his head. And when he looked up, he went completely still.

“Alpha Guide Sandburg,” he breathed.

Blair smiled, gentle but certain. “You recognize me.”

Eddie nodded slowly. “My Abuela—she told stories about you and Ellison like they were scripture. Said your bond changed everything. That you would bring change.”

“She’s not wrong,” Blair said. “But wee didn’t do it alone. We had the community and our tribe.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be anything,” Eddie whispered again. “My Aunt Pepa's a Guide. Abuela, too. They always said if I was going to come online, I would’ve by now.”

“They were wrong, too,” Buck murmured, thumb brushing over Eddie’s knuckles.

Blair’s gaze softened. “Some Guides sleep longer. Especially Shamans. We don’t come when called—we come when needed.”

Eddie looked up at Buck, overwhelmed, stunned, and still tethered to the one thing that made sense.

“You’re really my Sentinel,” he said. "You're really mine."

“I always was. Now the rest of the world will know it too.”

They moved Eddie to a private recovery room two hours later—once his vitals stabilized and the shockwaves of secondary awakenings throughout the hospital began to settle.

Blair paced quietly near the window. Jim stood like a menace in the corner, arms crossed, sharp eyes tracking every movement.

Buck hadn’t left Eddie’s side.

Eddie looked pale, bruised, and more exhausted than Buck had ever seen him—but clearer now. Something in his expression had shifted. Settled.

“So,” Eddie rasped, “before we get to the part where we’re apparently rewriting biology—someone going to tell me what’s actually wrong with me?”

Buck answered gently. “Severe concussion. Sprained wrist. Two cracked ribs. Deep lacerations along your back and shoulder. You were extremely lucky. No spinal injuries.”

Eddie blinked. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“You’re healing fast,” Blair added. “Faster than any Mundane would.”

“Because I’m a Guide now?”

Blair nodded. “Sentinels and Guides heal faster. It’s one of the benefits of finally becoming what you were always meant to be.”

Eddie gave a tired laugh. “I always thought the testing was bullshit.”

“It was.” Blair agreed without hesitation. “Thankfully it has come a long way since the ‘80s.”

“Cool,” Eddie muttered. “So I get the psychic overload and a warranty upgrade.”

Buck snorted.

But Blair’s smile softened into something more serious. “You’re not just a Guide, Eddie. You’re a Shaman.”

Eddie frowned.

“You didn’t just come online. You brought others with you,” Jim said. “That’s something only Shaman Guides can do.”

“And Buck?” Eddie asked, turning toward him.

Jim met his gaze. “Alpha Sentinel. High-emission flare. You woke up like a bomb went off. We have reports coming in as far as Denver that something was felt.”

“You both lit up like beacons,” Blair added. “Together.”

Buck swallowed. “So what does that mean?”

Blair’s expression grew quiet—reverent. “It means you’re the strongest Alpha pair to come online in years. Maybe decades. Definitely since at least myself and Jim.”

Jim stepped closer, arms no longer crossed. “You’re going to be important—not just to each other, but to everyone.”

Eddie blinked. “Everyone?”

Blair nodded. “The wider Sentinel and Guide community. People will look to you for guidance. For stability. To lead.”

“I didn’t sign up for leadership,” Eddie said immediately.

“Neither did I,” Jim said dryly.

“You don’t have to become council reps tomorrow,” Blair added. “But you’re already a signal. People felt you. They’ll keep feeling you. And in a world this fractured? That means something.”

The room went quiet.

Eddie looked at Buck.

Buck looked right back at him.

“You okay with all this?” Buck asked quietly.

“No,” Eddie admitted. “But I’m okay with you.”

And somehow, that was enough.

For now.

They came the next morning, all of them.

The hospital staff had to rearrange the furniture in Eddie’s private room just to make space for everyone. The chaos of yesterday had given way to weary calm—sunlight filtering through half-closed blinds, the antiseptic hush of a recovery ward settling over everything.

Buck sat in the chair closest to the bed, Eddie’s hand curled in his. He hadn’t let go once.

The first knock was soft.

Hen entered, clean uniform pressed, eyes scanning Eddie from head to toe. Karen was right behind her, a concerned twist in her mouth.

“Vitals are good,” Buck said, before she could ask. “He’s stable. Just… sleeping.”

Karen stepped to the opposite side, brushing her fingers gently against Eddie’s wrist. “He looks better than I expected.”

“He’s healing fast,” Buck murmured. “Blair said it’s a Sentinel Guide thing.”

Karen’s brow lifted. “So it’s true.”

Hen’s gaze flicked over to Buck, steady and knowing. “You felt it too, right?”

Buck hesitated. “What?”

“Other Sentinels,” Hen said. “Activating on scene. Not just you.”

From the corner, Blair stepped in. “And I felt Guides waking up in the hospital. It wasn’t just a singular bond event. It was a resonance. Sentinel and Guides alike answering their Alphas call.”

Karen exhaled, turning toward Hen. “So there could be more.”

Hen nodded grimly. “There are more. I felt it.”

Blair added, “And we’ll help guide them through it.”

Before anyone could respond, the door opened again.

Maddie entered, hand wrapped gently around Christopher’s shoulder. His eyes locked on Eddie’s still form in the bed and immediately filled with tears. Buck rose halfway before Chris launched into his arms. Buck caught him, folding around him like he was something fragile and precious.

“I missed you,” Chris whispered. “Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Buck said. His voice cracked. “He was already awake once. Now he’s resting again, buddy.”

Behind them, Chim entered quietly, brushing Maddie’s hand as he passed. She drifted to Buck’s side, gaze flicking down to where his hand still held Eddie’s.

“You knew,” she said softly.

“Immediately,” Buck replied.

Chim looked from Buck to Blair. “You felt them come online all the way across the city, right?”

“Not just felt it,” Blair said. “It shook the foundation. Alpha Sentinel and Alpha Shaman Guide. Strongest pairing in years.”

Athena arrived with Bobby a few minutes later. She paused in the doorway, gaze sweeping the room.

She crossed to Buck and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“You scared the hell out of us,” she said.

“Sorry,” he rasped.

Bobby stepped beside her. “Looks like you both made it out.”

“Mostly,” Buck whispered. “The hard part’s still coming.”

They were quiet after that. For a long moment, the room just breathed.

The 118, Maddie, Athena, Chris. Karen. Even Blair and Jim.

Together.

Watching over Eddie.

Anchoring Buck.

When the nurse came in to check Eddie’s vitals, she paused at the door, awed.

“You’ve got a whole army in here.”

Buck looked at her, eyes tired but steady.

“No,” he said. “We have our tribe.”

Buck had just stepped into the hallway to grab a new cup of coffee when he saw them.

Two men in suits—Department brass, judging by the polished pins and stiff posture. Their badges weren’t visible, but Buck had spent enough years in the system to recognize HQ when it came sniffing..

Buck didn’t wait. He turned on his heel and slipped back into Eddie’s room.

“They’re here,” he muttered as he shut the door behind him.

Blair looked up from where he was updating a chart. “Who?”

“LAFD Command. I think. They’re poking around.”

Jim stood from his chair in the corner, expression tightening. “That didn’t take long.”

“They’re going to want statements,” Hen said. She sounded tired. “They’ll want to know how it happened. How both of you came online.”

“They won’t stop there,” Blair added. “The kind of power you two hold? Alpha Sentinel. Alpha Shaman Guide. Your bond hasn’t even solidified yet and you still managed to shake half the western seaboard. That doesn’t go unnoticed.”

Buck glanced down at Eddie’s sleeping form. “We didn’t ask for this.”

“No one ever does,” Jim said. “But that doesn’t stop them from trying to use you.”

Buck rubbed a hand over his face. “What are they going to do? Interview us? Parade us around?”

Athena answered from her spot by the window. “They’ll want to make you the face of it. Public reassurance. PR campaigns. You’re both local heroes already—now you’re a bonded pair, too.”

“We’re not bonded,” Buck said quickly.

“Yet,” Blair said, pointedly.

Buck didn’t reply.

Bobby entered just then, carrying a file and a frown. “I just spoke with Chief Simpson,” he said. “They’re spinning up media interest. Already prepping language about ‘the future of Sentinel & Guide support in emergency services.’”

Maddie swore under her breath. “They’re turning it into a press tour?”

“It’s worse than that,” Blair said. “They’re going to try and make you safe. Relatable. Heroes who came online in the middle of tragedy and saved lives. They’ll mold the narrative—wrap it in red and gold and slap your names across every recruitment banner they can find.”

“We don’t want that,” Buck said, firm now. “We’re not leaving the 118.”

“And you won’t have to,” Jim said. “The Council is already aware. If LAFD HQ tries to force your hand—change your roles, reassign you, push a campaign—you’ll have the full weight of the Council behind you.”

“You’ll back us up?” Buck asked.

“Every step,” Blair confirmed. “You’re not symbols. You’re people. This is your home, your team. If you choose to stay here, that’s where you belong.”

“And quite frankly, with the power you two hold you’re in line to be the next Alphas of the entire city, if not the entire west coast.” Jim added ruefully. “Even the LAFD would be remiss to try and step in the way of that.”

Buck looked exhausted but grateful. “Thank you.”

Chim nodded. “You guys have a whole new community now. Let them help.”

Eddie stirred on the bed, but didn’t wake. Buck reached for his hand instinctively.

“I didn’t want to be a symbol,” Buck whispered. “I just wanted to get him out.”

“You did,” Bobby said. “But now you’ve got the whole damn city watching. So what comes next?”

Buck looked at Blair and Jim.

Then down at Eddie.

“Whatever it is,” he said softly, “we’ll face it together.”

Chapter Text

Hours later after Eddie had been discharged, he was finally safe in the comfort of home.

Yet the house had never felt this still.

No soft thud of crutches. No quiet hum of cartoons in the background. No Christopher curled on the couch asking for one more story before bed. Just silence—deep and resonant.

But not empty.

The bond thrummed between them, alive and insistent. No longer subtle. No longer something that could be ignored.

Now that the chaos was over, it was all-consuming.

Eddie sat on the edge of the couch, still pale from his injuries, but his eyes tracked Buck like a man parched for water. Buck stood just a few feet away, breathing like he’d run a marathon, his every nerve on fire.

They were past the edge of restraint. The need to anchor to each other was raw, instinctual, urgent.

Jim and Blair stood in the doorway—steady, composed, and careful not to cross the threshold.

“You’ve got hours at most before the bond becomes overwhelming,” Jim said. “Now that your bodies know you’re safe, they’ll want to root. You don’t want to stall that.”

Buck nodded once, his voice low. “We weren’t planning to.”

Blair gave a small smile. “Didn’t think so.”

He glanced at Eddie, gaze softening. “Everything you’re feeling is normal. The intensity, the heat, the way your senses are keyed toward each other and only each other right now—that’s all part of it. And when the bond completes… it’s going to change everything. In a good way.”

Eddie’s voice was hoarse. “You’re leaving?”

Jim gave a single nod. “We’ll be back in a couple of days, after it settles. You’ll need rest. Space. Quiet.”

Blair added, “And it’s not something we stay for. Bonding is private. Sacred.”

Buck’s throat worked around the emotion there. “Thank you. For everything.”

Jim’s hand landed briefly on Buck’s shoulder—solid and steady. “We’ll be nearby. Just call if you need anything.”

Then they turned and left, shutting the front door behind them.

The house exhaled.

The door had barely shut when Buck grabbed Eddie by the collar and shoved him back against it—hard enough to rattle the frame, soft enough not to hurt.

Eddie’s breath caught, eyes wild. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t resist. Just looked at Buck like he’d been waiting for this—begging for it without words.

Buck’s hand fisted in his shirt. “You knew what you were doing.”

Eddie swallowed. “Did I?”

“You looked at me like you wanted to be owned.” Buck’s voice dropped, low and rough and vibrating with restraint. “And now you are.”

Then he kissed him.

Not soft. Not sweet.

Possessive.

Teeth and tongue, a growl in his throat as he bit Eddie’s bottom lip and sucked the sting away. One hand pressed flat to Eddie’s chest, pinning him like prey. The other slid lower—slow, commanding, confident—tracing the line of his waistband like he already owned every inch beneath it.

Eddie moaned, hips bucking, but Buck held him still.

“Stay.”

One word. Sharp. Final.

Eddie froze.

Good.

Buck smiled, dark and dangerous. “You want me to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” Eddie rasped.

Buck dropped to his knees without ceremony, ripping Eddie’s belt open and dragging his pants down with a practiced impatience that left Eddie gasping.

And then Buck looked up.

Head tilted. Mouth inches from where Eddie was already hard and leaking.

“Hands behind your back.”

Eddie hesitated—just a flicker—before obeying, arms flexing as he locked his fingers together.

Buck rewarded him with a kiss. Just a kiss. A brush of lips against skin, so soft it bordered on cruel.

Eddie whimpered.

Buck licked a stripe up the length of him, slow and filthy, one hand gripping Eddie’s thigh to keep him from moving. Then again. And again. Until Eddie was shaking and begging under his breath.

“Thought you said you could handle me,” Buck murmured.

“I can—”

“Then shut up and take it.”

He swallowed him whole.

Eddie’s knees gave instantly, but Buck caught him, forced him upright, mouth working him over with obscene, practiced precision. His hand stroked what his mouth couldn’t reach, twisting at the top just the way he knew drove Eddie insane.

Eddie was babbling—Spanish and English and nonsense, his voice cracking on moans.

When Buck pulled off, spit slicking his lips, Eddie sobbed. Actually sobbed.

“You close?”

“Fuck—Buck, please—”

Buck stood in one fluid movement and manhandled Eddie around, pressing his chest to the door, dragging a hand up his spine like a brand.

“Beg for it.”

“I am—”

“No. You begged to come. I want you to beg to be mine.”

“I’m yours.” Eddie gasped, grinding back against him. “I’ve always been yours.”

Buck leaned in, mouth against Eddie’s ear. “Say it louder.”

“I’m yours.”

Buck rolled his hips forward, letting Eddie feel exactly how hard he was. “Again.”

“I’m yours, Buck. Please—take me.”

That’s all he needed.

He dragged them to the bedroom, stripped what little was left between them, and crawled on top like a storm.

And then—then Buck slowed down.

Because taking Eddie wasn’t about speed.

It was about claiming.

About marking him with every drag of his cock, every bite of his teeth, every kiss that blurred the line between worship and claiming.

He didn’t fuck Eddie.

He consumed him.

Each thrust was deep and deliberate, a rhythm designed to undo. Buck pinned Eddie’s wrists, kept him open, kept him begging, whispering filth against his throat:

“You’re so fucking tight for me.”
“You love when I use you like this.”
“You’re mine, Eddie. You’ll always be mine.”

The bond surged between them like a living thing—hot, demanding, electric.

Sentinel to Guide.
Alpha to Alpha.
Two kings, one claiming.

Eddie came first—hard and wrecked, sobbing Buck’s name like a prayer.

Buck chased him through it, slamming into him once, twice—growling as he came, teeth in Eddie’s shoulder, fingers digging bruises into his hips.

They collapsed in a tangle of limbs and sweat and bond-thick air.

Eddie was panting. Ruined. Completely, gloriously taken.

Buck kissed the side of his throat, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“You good?” he whispered.

Eddie gave a wrecked, blissed-out laugh. “Never better.”

Buck smirked. “Good. Because next time, I’m tying you up.”

Eddie’s breath hitched.

And Buck just smiled—slow and smug and lethal.

Buck leaned in and brushed a kiss against Eddie’s temple. “Stay put.”

Too blissed-out to move, Eddie let out a sound somewhere between a hum and a sigh as Buck slipped from the bed. When he returned, he carried a warm cloth and a glass of water, quiet and steady in the low light. No teasing now. Just care.

He knelt at the edge of the bed and cleaned them both up—slow, gentle strokes that chased away the sharp edges of what came before. Reverent where he'd been rough, patient where he’d been punishing. Every touch lingered just long enough to say mine.

Eddie’s eyes fluttered halfway open. “You always this sweet after wrecking someone?”

Buck’s smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Only when we plan to do it again.”

The cloth was tossed aside. The glass of water pressed into Eddie’s hand with a murmured “Drink.” Eddie obeyed, still watching him through lashes gone heavy with sleep and something deeper.

“Is this part of the bond?” he murmured.

Buck climbed back into bed and pulled him in close again, one arm curling possessively around his waist. “Nah. Just part of loving you.”

The breath caught in Eddie’s throat. He didn’t answer with words. Just leaned in and kissed him, slow and sure and full of everything Buck had always feared he’d never deserve.

Buck turned his head, smug as hell. “You okay?”

“I will be.”

Something in his voice—low, steady, dangerous—made Buck’s smile twitch.

Before he could answer, Eddie moved.

Fast. Smooth.

He rolled on top, thighs straddling Buck’s hips, hands braced on either side of his head, weight pinning Buck down in a way that was more command than request.

Buck blinked up at him, still catching up. “Eddie—”

“You want me to beg?” Eddie asked, voice like honey poured over a knife. “You want me to say I’m yours?”

His hand wrapped around Buck’s throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Intent.

“You forgot something, baby.”

Buck’s pupils blew wide. “What’s that?”

“I’m yours…” Eddie leaned in until his lips ghosted over Buck’s jaw. “But you’re mine, too.”

Buck swallowed hard.

Eddie felt it under his palm. Smirked.

And ground down.

Buck arched with a startled, wrecked moan.

“That’s it,” Eddie murmured. “You’re gonna lie there and take everything I give you.”

He kissed him then—hard and claiming, the kind of kiss that stole the air from Buck’s lungs. Buck moaned, hands sliding up Eddie’s back only to be caught and pinned over his head.

“Don’t move.”

Buck stilled immediately.

And oh, Eddie loved that. Loved watching Buck surrender. Loved watching the man who’d just wrecked him willingly give up every ounce of control with one quiet command.

Eddie let go just long enough to slide down Buck’s body, dragging his teeth over a nipple, biting just hard enough to make him writhe.

He didn’t bother with teasing.

He sucked Buck back into his mouth like he wanted to hollow him out from the inside.

And Buck lost it.

One hand fisting the sheet, the other slapping uselessly at the headboard as he bucked up in search of more, more, please more.

“You’re loud,” Eddie said, lips wet and swollen. “I like that.”

Buck gasped. “Then fuck me already.”

“Oh, you don’t give the orders now.”

Eddie moved back up his body, deliberately slow, letting Buck feel every inch of his weight, every inch of his cock sliding between them as a promise.

He lined up without hurry, one hand gripping Buck’s hip, the other braced beside his head.

“You want it?”

“God, yes.”

“Beg for me.”

“I want you,” Buck panted. “I want you to ruin me. I want you to break me.”

Eddie kissed him. Deep. Tender. Then—thrust.

Buck screamed.

It wasn’t pain. It was too right.

Eddie moved slow and unrelenting, pinning Buck’s wrists above his head, grinding deep with every roll of his hips.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Eddie groaned. “Like you were made for me.”

“I was.” Buck’s voice was a ragged mess. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

Eddie dropped his head to Buck’s neck, biting down hard enough to leave marks.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’M YOURS.”

Eddie let go of his hands just long enough to drag them down, lacing their fingers together as he slammed into him again.

The bond sparked between them—wild and pulsing and infinite.

Guide to Sentinel.
Alpha to Alpha.
Claim to counterclaim.

They didn’t just fuck. They melded.

By the time Eddie spilled inside him, Buck was a trembling, wrecked thing beneath him—kiss-drunk, sweat-soaked, and utterly undone.

Eddie collapsed beside him, dragging Buck into his chest like a prized possession.

Buck was panting, eyes half-lidded. “Holy shit.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head. “Told you. You’re mine too.”

Buck let out a wrecked laugh. “Think I need to be reclaimed like that more often.”

“Oh, baby.” Eddie smirked, dragging a hand down his chest. “That was just round two.”

The sun was just starting to rise when Buck stirred, the warmth of the bed and the weight of Eddie’s arm across his waist grounding him before he even opened his eyes.

The ache in his body was the kind that felt earned — a reminder of everything they’d said without words last night.

Eddie nuzzled into the crook of his neck with a soft sigh. “You awake?”

Buck hummed. “Barely.”

“Come shower with me?”

There was no teasing in the question. Just a gentle invitation.

Buck nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

The bathroom was already warm, steam fogging the mirror, soft light spilling across the tile.

They stepped into the shower together, moving in sync like they’d done this a thousand times. Eddie reached for the soap, but Buck stilled his hand.

“Let me.”

Eddie’s brow lifted, but he nodded.

The water streamed over them in a steady hush, mist curling around their bodies as if trying to get closer.

Buck’s hands moved slowly, reverently. He lathered soap over Eddie’s back and shoulders, across his chest and stomach, as though mapping sacred ground. He didn’t just wash him. He tended to him.

Eddie let him. Silent. Eyes closed. Trust written in every breath.

When Buck dropped to his knees, washing the bruises along Eddie’s thighs, he looked up — water dripping from his curls, fingers stilling.

“I’ve never loved anyone like this.”

The words were a whisper, but they carried weight. The kind of weight only truth could hold.

“I know this isn’t just love, or want, or some stupid happy accident. I know it’s more.” He stood slowly, suddenly unsure. “But I still need to say it. I love you.”

For a heartbeat, Eddie said nothing. Just stared at him — gaze deep, dark, and knowing.

Then he reached out and slid his hands around Buck’s face.

“You’re mine.”

The bond thrummed between them — warm, electric, alive.

“I don’t mean like a possession,” Eddie continued, voice low, rich with feeling. “I mean mine. In the way the ocean belongs to the moon. In the way breath belongs to lungs. In the way no one could ever take you from me and survive the attempt.”

Buck exhaled a shaky breath. “Eddie…”

“I love you,” Eddie said. “I choose you. Every day. But that choice? It’s just a shadow of what we are now.”

His forehead pressed to Buck’s, fingers threading into wet hair.

“We’re bonded, Evan.”

The name dropped like a stone in a still lake — soft but absolute.

“You’re my Sentinel. I’m your Guide. There is nothing in this world — or any other — that can break this. You feel it too. I know you do.”

Buck shuddered. Not from cold. From the truth of it.

The bond pulsed again, curling through them like breath, like heartbeat, like gravity itself.

“You’re the calm in my chaos,” Buck whispered. “The voice that gets through the noise. Even before I knew what that meant, it was always you.”

Eddie nodded, eyes glinting through the steam. “And you’re the one I was born to steady. Even when I didn’t understand why, my soul already knew you.”

They stood there, bare and wet and open in every way that mattered, not just touching — linked.

Bound.

Claimed.

The kind of connection legends are written about.

Eddie leaned in again, brushing their noses together.

“You’re mine in every sense. Spirit to spirit. Mind to mind. Body to body. And I will never leave you. No matter what comes.”

Buck closed his eyes and let himself believe it.

Because he felt it now. Not just in Eddie’s voice. Not even in his touch.

But in the bond — the thing humming beneath his skin. Steady. Unbreakable. Eternal.

“Then I’m yours,” Buck whispered. “Always. Completely. No fear. No doubts.”

Eddie smiled and kissed him.

It wasn’t urgent. Wasn’t frantic.

It was forever.

Chapter Text

The kitchen smelled like toast and butter and cinnamon.

Buck stood barefoot by the stove in Eddie’s hoodie, sleeves pushed up, curls still damp. He moved with calm ease, humming under his breath as he flipped pancakes, one hand on his hip.

Eddie sat at the table, watching him like Buck was the only light in the room.

“You keep staring like that, I’m gonna burn breakfast.”

“I’ve got a cast-iron stomach and terrible taste. I’ll survive.”

Buck snorted. “Romantic.”

Eddie smiled into his coffee. “Only for you.”

The bond hummed between them — a warm thrum that made the house feel alive. Like they were woven into the foundation now. Like the space itself knew they were home.

When Buck brought the plates over, Eddie reached for his hand first, thumb brushing the knuckles.

“I still can’t believe this is real,” Eddie said.

Buck didn’t pull away. “It is.”

They ate slowly, legs brushing under the table, passing syrup and sharing smiles. No rush. No noise. Just a quiet morning filled with breath and belonging.

And then—

A knock at the door.

Soft. Firm. Familiar.

Buck didn’t move right away — he was sprawled on the couch in sweatpants and a loose tee, Eddie curled against his side, blanket around them like armor.

Another knock. Then:
“We come in peace. Mostly.”

Buck sighed and carefully slid out from under Eddie. “Coming,” he called, grabbing the blanket to tuck around him.

When he opened the door, Jim and Blair were both smirking.

“You look like a man who hasn’t slept,” Blair said. “Or like a man who’s slept very well.”

Buck flushed. “Nope. Not doing this.”

Jim clapped him on the shoulder. “We kind of have to. You lit up a three-mile radius like someone set off a joy bomb. Last night and this morning apparently if what we felt on our way here was anything to go by.”

“Wait what?”

“Yeah,” Blair said, dropping into the armchair. “Right after your bond snapped into place, we got flooded with calls. People felt euphoric, grounded. One woman thought she had a spiritual awakening. Two engagements. It was wild.”

Jim added, “Someone on the Council said it felt like L.A. collectively had the best sex of their lives and then took a nap.”

Buck groaned. “Oh my god.”

“If they felt half of what I did, they should be thanking us.” Eddie snarked from his spot under the blankets.

Blair grinned. “There he is. The newly crowned Alpha Shaman Guide.”

Then, more serious, Blair leaned forward. “Kidding aside — you’re both stable. Anchored. The bond settled beautifully. And now…”

Buck tensed. “Now what?”

Jim’s voice softened. “Now things shift. You’re not just bonded. You’re an Alpha pair — and one of the strongest in decades. People are going to feel that.”

Blair nodded. “You’ll be offered council seats. Definitely Regional. National someday. Your influence will shape how we train new pairs. How we protect them. How we push back against exploitation.”

“And the LAFD?” Buck asked.

Jim smiled faintly. “They’ve been warned they're on notice. You’re safe. For now.”

Eddie exhaled a soft laugh. “This is insane.”

“Yeah,” Buck said. “But it feels… right. Like we were always supposed to get here.”

Jim met his eyes. “You were.”

Blair stood, stretching. “The Council’s not throwing you to the wolves yet. For now — rest. Settle. Enjoy each other.”

Jim paused at the door, glancing back at them one last time.

“You didn’t just bond,” Jim said. “You changed the tide.”

The front door opened just after dusk.

“I’m home!” Christopher called, the shuffle of his crutches echoing against the floor.

Buck looked up from the couch, where he was half-sprawled with a bowl of popcorn on his chest and Eddie tucked against his side. The TV was still paused on a documentary they hadn’t actually been watching.

Eddie sat up straighter. “Hey, mijo.”

Chris appeared in the doorway, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of them. “You look… rested,” he said slowly. “Like, weirdly rested.”

Buck cleared his throat. “Hen and Karen treat you okay?”

“They let me eat pizza two nights in a row. So yeah.”

Chris stepped forward, gaze still sharp, and gave them that look—the one that said he knew something had happened.

And then he sniffed the air. Froze.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, dramatically dropping his crutches and covering his face with both hands. “You bonded.”

Eddie blinked. “Christopher—”

“Don’t say it!” Chris shouted from behind his hands. “Don’t confirm it! I know what bonding means and I don’t want to think about it—ugh, this whole house smells like you two love each other!”

Buck was turning a bright shade of red, while Eddie coughed into his fist, shoulders shaking with laughter.

Chris peeked out between his fingers. “Do I need to sage the living room? Or like, burn it down and start over?”

Buck tossed a throw pillow at him, which Chris expertly dodged with a smirk. “You’re disgusting,” Chris declared, and then—softer—“But I’m glad you’re okay.”

Eddie’s smile gentled. “So are we.”

Chris huffed, heading to the kitchen. “Whatever. I’m picking the movie tonight. And I swear, if you two so much as cuddle near me—”

“No promises,” Buck said, grinning.

Chris reemerged with a soda, rolling his eyes. “Gross.”

But later, when they were all curled up on the couch—Buck in the middle, Chris leaning against one side, Eddie dozing on the other—he didn’t pull away. He didn’t complain.

When the credits rolled, Chris quietly asked, “You’re staying, right?”

Buck tightened his arm around him. “Always.”

Eddie’s hand brushed over Buck’s. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Chris nodded once. Then: “Cool. Just… maybe keep the soul-bonding stuff in the bedroom from now on.”

Buck groaned. “Chris.”

Eddie laughed until he couldn’t breathe.

Halfway through the next movie, Chris leaned his head on Buck’s shoulder.

“You’re really not going, right? You’re staying? Forever?”

Buck froze.

Then gently—carefully—he brushed a hand through Chris’s hair and whispered, “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Eddie reached for Buck’s hand, linking their fingers together.

Outside, the city moved on.

But inside—

Inside, a Sentinel, a Guide, and a boy who would never have to doubt what love felt like curled together beneath a worn blanket, the weight of the world lifted for a while.

Not perfect.

But whole.

And finally—

finally—

Safe.

And deeply, hilariously, forever gross in the eyes of their teenage son.