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Chapter Text

Two Years Ago – LAFD Academy

The academy classroom smelled like a strange cocktail of boot polish, burnt coffee, and recycled fear—the kind that clung stubbornly to every surface. The fluorescent lights above flickered just enough to remind everyone they were still being watched. Somewhere in the hallway, a distant siren wailed, a reminder of the chaos waiting outside these walls.

Ravi sat in the second-to-last row, his back unnaturally straight despite the slow burn of exhaustion settling into his shoulders from the afternoon’s relentless ladder drills. His hands trembled faintly, a leftover pulse from adrenaline and muscle fatigue, but he tucked them into tight fists atop his notebook, determined to appear composed.

The training captain prowled at the front like a war general inspecting his troops, boots clicking sharply against the linoleum floor.

“You wanna last in this job?” he barked, slamming a thick stack of worksheets onto the desk so hard the papers fluttered like frightened birds. “You figure out how to carry the weight up here”—he tapped his temple with a knuckle—“not just on your back.”

A wave of nervous laughter rolled through the room—jokes meant to disguise the silent dread everyone felt. Ravi didn’t laugh. His pen scratched the words “stress management” across the page and underlined them three times, each stroke steady and deliberate.

“Journaling. Meditation. Therapy. Hell, go sit in a damn cat café if it helps you breathe. Talk to someone—talk to yourself if you have to. Just get all that noise out of your head before it eats you alive.”

Later that night, in the bare-walled, furnished-but-sparse apartment the academy had assigned him, Ravi sat cross-legged on the floor, phone balanced awkwardly against a stack of textbooks. The cold light of the screen illuminated his face in the otherwise dark room.

His first recording was shaky, voice cracking as he admitted, “Today I dropped a dummy during rescue drills. He hit the mat like a sack of wet cement. Then... I cried in the utility closet. Blaming it on the wind.”

He swallowed the impulse to share it, deciding the world wasn’t ready for that level of honesty.

But the next night, the impulse returned, stronger.

Then again the night after.

Eventually, he pressed upload.

The videos weren’t perfect—half rambling, half lecture, full of awkward pauses and sarcastic asides about how firefighters don’t get enough credit for microwave popcorn expertise. But the mixture was real, raw, and grounded in truths nobody else talked about.

Viewers started tuning in. Comments popped up.

• “Thanks for being real.”
• “Your tips saved me from a kitchen fire.”
• “I never thought fire safety could be this chill.”

Ravi found a strange comfort in the community that grew, a quiet rebellion against the pressure to be tough all the time.

He never intended to go viral.

But the steady glow of notifications in the dark kept him coming back.

And he never stopped either.

Two Years Later - At the 118

"Fire safety tip number three:" Ravi’s voice was steady, calm, and just the right amount of sarcastic. “Don’t leave candles unattended. I know the vibes are important, but so is not burning your apartment down for the ‘aesthetic.’”

His phone sat perfectly balanced on a mini tripod, a ring light casting a soft, flattering glow over his face—one that made his tired eyes look almost peaceful. Behind him, the station hummed with life: Hen tapped rapidly on her laptop at the table, Chim was loudly arguing with the coffee machine yet again (something about the espresso button being a lie), and a faint, vaguely burnt scent drifted from the kitchen, like a culinary crime scene in progress.

Ravi was seated cross-legged on the couch, his turnout jacket casually draped nearby for that subtle “authentic firefighter” aesthetic. He was mid-sentence, rolling through safety tips like a pro, when—

“Wait, are you live right now?” Buck’s voice cut through the quiet, and then he casually wandered into frame like he owned the place (which, if you asked anyone, he kind of did).

“Yep,” Ravi deadpanned, not missing a beat.

Buck froze, droplets of water still clinging to his damp hair and skin after his post-shift shower detour. His shirt hung half-off one shoulder, towel slung around his neck like the world’s most hydrated gym bro, eyes wide with that mischievous ‘I have no idea what I’m about to do but it’ll be fun’ gleam.

Ravi eyed him, already bracing for the impending chaos.

“Don’t—” he started, but it was already too late.

Buck stepped behind the couch, crouched low, and gently rested his head on Ravi’s open palm—the exact way dogs did in that viral TikTok trend Ravi had half-heartedly mocked earlier.

Ravi blinked slowly, expression neutral. “You’re doing the dog meme.”

Buck tilted his head, his lower lip jutting out in a perfect pout. “Woof.”

Instantly, the live chat exploded:

NOT THE DOG HEAD OMG

• HE’S SO COMMITTED
• ravi didn’t flinch = soulmates
• raviiiiii is this your boyfriend???
• soft launch speedrun??
• THIS is the firefighter content I deserve 🔥

Ravi shot the camera a slow, withering look that said I’m doomed. “This is my actual life now.”

Buck grinned like he’d won the lottery, leaning further into the bit and practically melting into Ravi’s side. If contentment had a face, it was that—pure, unfiltered, and utterly chaotic.

“You’re unbelievable,” Ravi muttered.

“Hen said that once. I took it as a compliment.”

Ravi groaned, but didn’t brush him off. “Fine. You’re in it now. Sit down.”

Without hesitation, Buck flopped onto the couch with his usual reckless grace—limbs sprawling everywhere, towel barely hanging on. He reached over, snagged a bite of Ravi’s protein bar without asking, and waved at the camera like he was the star of a sitcom being introduced mid-Season 3.

“Hi, I’m Buck,” he said cheerfully. “I wasn’t invited, but I brought snacks and poor impulse control.”

Ravi muttered under his breath, “This is how my channel dies. Drowned in white boy charm.”

Hen looked up from her laptop with a squint. “If the internet makes a fan account for this duo, I’m not saving either of you from yourselves.”

Twenty Minutes Later – Post-Live Fallout

Buck was halfway through his third granola bar of the day, crumbs trailing like a rogue breadcrumb trail, as he scrolled through the replay on Ravi’s phone with a grin that screamed this beats paperwork any day. The soft glow of the phone lit up his damp hair and mischievous eyes, making him look way too pleased with himself.

Without warning, Ravi’s hand shot out and grabbed Buck’s wrist, yanking him up from the couch before he could finish chewing. “We need to talk.”

Buck blinked, still clutching his granola bar like a lifeline. “Uh oh. Am I being drafted? Fired? Made into a meme again?”

Ravi didn’t answer. Instead, he marched them toward the locker room, footsteps echoing off the metal lockers like the start of a secret mission. At the doorway, Hen looked up from her laptop with a raised eyebrow, while Chim paused mid-argue with the coffee machine, both exchanging a bewildered WTF glance as Ravi dragged Buck off like he was apprehending a suspect.

Once inside, Ravi spun around and planted both palms firmly on Buck’s chest, a serious look in his eyes that contrasted sharply with the grin on Buck’s face.

“You’re in this now.”

Buck blinked. “...In what?”

Ravi gestured dramatically around the station—the worn gear, the cluttered tables, even a lonely traffic cone standing sentinel in the corner. “This. It’s not just about the live videos anymore. We’re talking full-on video trends, memes, skits, the whole chaotic shebang. You stuck your head in my hand like some overenthusiastic Disney dog, and now the internet has decided we’re a duo.”

Buck tilted his head, processing the weight of those words. “So… you’re saying I have fans?”

“I’m saying I can’t go live tomorrow without half the comments asking where ‘my golden retriever’ is. You broke the system. You bought it. You are it.”

Buck’s grin stretched wider, pride practically radiating off him. “Honestly? Kinda honored.”

Ravi groaned, rubbing his temples like he was trying to stave off an inevitable headache. “You should be terrified. I’m already mentally drafting scripts and planning a two-man green screen setup.”

Buck threw his hands in the air, exuberant. “So what, we’re partners now? Like… TikTok partners? Meme buddies?”

“God help me,” Ravi muttered. “Yes.”

Buck’s eyes sparkled. “Hell yeah! You want me to dress up? Do accents? I can nail a terrible New York firefighter voice.”

“Stop talking,” Ravi warned.

“Too late. I’m in character now.” Buck struck a pose, voice thick with mock bravado. “Ey yo, I’m extinguishing emotions over here—”

Ravi groaned again, louder this time. “This was a mistake.”

But Buck just laughed, slinging an arm over Ravi’s shoulder like a proud sidekick. “No takebacks. I’m your chaos now.”

Meanwhile — Bobby’s Office

Bobby was buried in paperwork, the soft scratch of his pen the only sound breaking the quiet hum of the station. His office was a sanctuary of order—neatly stacked files, a perfectly aligned desk calendar, and the faint scent of fresh coffee lingering in the air.

He looked up, mid-signature, his eyes narrowing as if tuning in on a distant frequency only he could detect.

A familiar ripple of chaos was rising somewhere beyond his door.

From the corner of his eye, Bobby noticed Hen and Chim sharing a look loaded with silent questions and mild disbelief. Somewhere down the hallway, muffled laughter burst out, quickly followed by a sudden loud voice—definitely not the usual calm of a fire station briefing.

Bobby sighed, setting his pen down and leaning back in his chair.

Here we go again.

He rubbed his temples, already picturing the storm about to crash the station—and knowing full well it was coming from an unpredictable duo. He just wasn't sure which duo it was... yet.

Later That Night…

The room was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of streetlights filtering through the blinds and the faint glow of Eddie’s phone screen. Outside, the city was winding down, but inside Eddie’s home, quiet thoughts kept him company.

He hadn’t been at the station today — he’d taken Chris to an appointment and completed unfinished chores, one of those rare, slow days away from the noise and urgency. The kind of day that left space in his mind, for better or worse.

Eddie sank deeper into the couch, rubbing the tired ache behind his eyes. His phone buzzed softly—a message in the group chat caught his attention.

[LIVE Replay: @FireSafeWithRavi 💬🔥]
Title: Fire Safety Q&A + Surprise Dog Appearance 🐶

He tapped it, mostly out of curiosity. Definitely not because he wanted to see anything in particular.

The video started with Ravi, calm and steady, explaining fire safety tips with his usual grounded confidence. Eddie allowed himself a brief smile when Buck suddenly appeared on screen—wet hair, towel slung over his neck, that effortless, goofy charm shining through.

But then Buck did the thing. The ridiculous, adorable thing.

He rested his head on Ravi’s hand like it belonged there.

Eddie’s smile faltered. His eyes narrowed as he watched. The way Ravi didn’t flinch. The way he let Buck into his space—like this was nothing new. Like it was completely normal.

The comment section blew up with messages:

• can’t wait for more content from rav & retriever 😍
• this is firefighter bestie energy™️
• i want whatever friendship drug they’re on
• they have better chemistry than my last relationship and i’m not okay

One comment stood out, simple and biting:

• Honestly, they have better chemistry than my ex and I ever did.

Eddie closed the app, the screen going dark. His jaw clenched, tight as the knot forming in his chest.

He didn’t understand why it got to him so much.

Except… deep down, he did—and that scared him..

Chapter Text

The faint hum of the overhead lights blended with the low burble of the coffee pot in the station kitchen. It smelled like burnt toast and stale caffeine — the unofficial perfume of the 118. Hen sat at the counter with her mug, half reading a case file, half pretending to ignore Buck and Ravi setting up a phone tripod in the apparatus bay.

“Stop, drop, and roll,” Buck said solemnly to the camera.

He was the picture of seriousness — if the picture also included bunker pants, a glitter-glue pink crop top reading “🔥HOT🔥”, and aviator sunglasses so reflective Ravi’s outline shimmered in them like a mirage.

Ravi stood beside him in full turnout gear, an extinguisher held at the ready, expression set to “underpaid man in a buddy cop movie.”

“In the event of a fire,” Ravi delivered in a voice so dry it could have been kindling, “do not—I repeat, do not—film a thirst trap. Exit the building safely. Then film your thirst trap.”

Buck nodded like this was the most important advice anyone had ever received. “Fire safety is sexy.”

They both struck exaggerated model poses — Buck with one hand behind his head, Ravi tipping the extinguisher toward the camera like a weapon.

Cue the music drop.

Hen’s coffee cup lowered inch by inch. “I’m in hell,” she muttered, perfectly deadpan.

By the time the replay hit Ravi’s phone, the entire squad had gathered like it was Sunday night football. The tinny TikTok audio mixed with the rhythmic clink of Chim stirring sugar into his coffee.

Hen was leaning back in her chair, smirking like she’d already started drafting an “I told you so” speech for later.

Chim was wheezing into his sleeve. “Okay but the transitions? You hit that knee-slide like it was a professional music video.”

“It was choreographed,” Ravi said around a mouthful of protein bar. “Buck made me practice in the bay before shift.”

Buck’s grin lit up the room. “And you crushed it. If firefighting doesn’t work out, we could definitely be influencers.”

“You’re halfway there,” Hen said. “Just add a matching merch line and a scandal.”

Bobby, squinting at the video like it was a crime scene photo, asked, “Are… crop tops regulation?”

Buck shrugged. “Only illegal if I get caught.”

Bobby, still squinting turned to Buck and replied "Buck I am literally your Captain - "

And that was when Eddie walked in. His sweatshirt was slung over one shoulder, hair still slightly damp from a shower, the faint smell of soap cutting through the kitchen’s coffee haze.

“Hey—what’s everyone watching?”

He stepped closer — and stopped.

Buck was on-screen, in Ravi’s turnout jacket, laughing into the camera. Ravi leaned in beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Eddie’s jaw tensed.

“Is that my jacket?” he asked, tone casual in a way that was trying too hard.

“Nope,” Ravi said. “Mine.”

“…Why does Buck have it on?”

“Aesthetic,” Buck said, like that explained everything.

'Aesthetic. Sure.'  thought Eddie, 'Like standing so close they were practically breathing the same air was also an “aesthetic.”'

From behind his mug, Chim whispered, “Uh-oh.”

Eddie ignored him, but his grip on his sweatshirt tightened just enough to wrinkle the fabric.

Earlier that day, the station had been quiet except for the hum of the bay fans and the occasional clink of Bobby restocking the coffee station.

Ravi appeared in the doorway of the common room like a man on a mission, holding up a piece of paper covered in chaotic scribbles, arrows, and the words “fire safety but hot” written in all caps.

“Okay, hear me out,” Ravi said, holding up the scribbled storyboard like this was Shark Tank and Buck was the investor. “We do the fire safety tips… but with meme transitions.”

Buck, sprawled on the couch with one leg over the armrest, perked up immediately. “Go on.”

“You wear the jacket. I hit you with the extinguisher. We add slow-mo. Maybe throw in the knee slide.”

Buck sat forward like he’d just been handed the Holy Grail. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

“Hen’s gonna kill us,” Ravi deadpanned.

“Worth it.”

They shook hands with all the gravitas of two generals sealing an alliance — completely ignoring the fact they were plotting a thirst-trap safety video in the middle of a firehouse.

Back in the present, Eddie crossed his arms. “So… Ravi’s got you doing slow-motion thirst traps now?”

“They’re educational,” Buck replied.

Eddie’s eyebrow went up. “Yeah, real educational.”

Buck either didn’t notice or pretended not to. “Ravi’s great with lighting. Makes my jawline pop.”

Eddie’s jaw flexed. “Sure.”

“You should be in one,” Buck said, tilting his head. “Three firefighters, one hose—”

“—Absolutely not,” Eddie cut in. “No hoses.”

Hen coughed into her coffee to hide a laugh.

Ravi, ignoring Eddie entirely, said, “We should film the ladder challenge next.”

Buck lit up. “Ooooh, and the fire pole transition!”

“One second in full gear, next in street clothes.”

“You read my mind.”

They fist-bumped and headed toward the locker room, already tossing around trending audio ideas.

Eddie’s gaze followed them. For too long.

Chim slowly turned toward him, eyes narrowing. “You good, or should we start drafting your love confession now?”

Eddie didn’t answer.

But his glare at Chim’s coffee mug was enough.

Two hours later, a call came in for a small car fire in a supermarket parking lot.

By the time they arrived, the flames were mostly out, though the air was still thick with the acrid tang of melted plastic and scorched rubber. Heat shimmered from the car’s hood, distorting the view like a mirage.

Hen and Bobby moved with methodical efficiency, checking for flare-ups and keeping civilians back.

Buck and Ravi? Entirely different mission.

They’d parked the engine so the late afternoon light hit just right, Buck’s phone balanced on the hood.

“Ready?” Buck called, tugging his helmet down like it was part of a uniformed runway walk.

“Cue the beat,” Ravi said.

The music hit — bass thumping through the tiny phone speaker.

Buck swung the hose into frame, water droplets catching the sunlight. Ravi stepped forward, extinguisher in hand, and pulled his helmet off in one smooth motion. His hair, flattened from the gear, sprang back in messy waves.

On the bass drop, Buck mimed spraying him, and Ravi shook his hair out like it was a shampoo commercial, slow motion catching every movement.

From across the lot, Hen didn’t even look up as she yelled, “If I go viral because of you two, I’m suing.”

Chim, filming from the side with his own phone, cupped his hands to shout, “Do it again! Slower!”

Eddie coiled the hose by the truck, each loop tighter than it needed to be. He could hear them laughing — the easy, rolling kind of laughter that came from knowing you had a perfect take. He didn’t look over. Not right away.

When he finally did, they were shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning into the phone to check playback. Their heads almost touched. Buck said something that made Ravi’s mouth curl into a grin.

“Eds!” Buck called. “We need a third firefighter for symmetry.”

Eddie didn’t break stride. “I’ve got actual work to do.”

“Brooding angle it is,” Buck said with a smirk.

Eddie set his jaw, focusing on the neat circles of the hose. His fingers moved, but his mind was stuck on the image of Buck in that jacket.

Later that evening whilst getting into bed for the night, Eddie’s phone buzzed with notifications from the new TikTok upload from Ravi's account. Against better judgment, he tapped open the video and scrolled through the comments.

Here we go.

@FirehouseFandom: how are they both hot AND giving fire safety tips??

Eddie snorted. Well, at least they’re getting compliments for something useful.

@SafetyButMakeItSexy: buck in a crop top just saved my life actually

Yeah, yeah, save my life AND my crush, why don’t you.

@laddertrucklvr: RAVI. SLOW MO. THAT’S IT. THAT’S THE COMMENT.

Clearly, the slow-mo is the only thing anyone noticed. Not the actual fire safety message. Typical.

@hoseandbros: what is the jacket situation and why do I feel tension 👀

Oh great. The internet’s already shipping them harder than any of us have dared. Fabulous.

@CaptainDadReact: someone get the guy in the background (👀) a hug before he explodes

Oof. Burned by the internet, and it’s not even me on camera.

Eddie clicked away, staring out the window at the darkened parking lot, the cool air heavy with the smell of rain on asphalt.

Maybe I’m just tired.

But the tightness in his chest said otherwise.

No hoses. No hoses, he repeated silently. Keep it professional, Eddie. Keep it cool.

Chat, he’s not gonna be able to keep it cool.

Chapter Text

Ravi’s apartment smelled faintly of pizza grease, laundry detergent, and impending chaos.

A ring light flickered on in the corner of the living room, haloing Buck’s ridiculous grin as he adjusted it for the fifth time. “Okay, so lighting is key,” Buck said, holding up his phone to test the framing. “We want drama. Suspense. Jawline.”

Ravi, sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by tripods, looked up from the pile of cables. “We’re doing an AMA, not shooting a thirst trap.”

Buck grinned. “Why can’t it be both?”

The camera test caught his reflection in the TV — a glittery “FIRE SAFETY BUT MAKE IT SEXY” crop top, joggers, and an oversized helmet that looked like it belonged in a parody calendar shoot.

Ravi sighed. “I’m starting to think you joined TikTok for the aesthetic.”

Buck shrugged. “I joined for fire safety awareness. The aesthetic was a happy accident.”

He tugged his shirt into place, knocking over a can of sparkling water in the process.

“Stop moving!” Ravi hissed, lunging for the ring light before it hit the floor. “God, you’re like a golden retriever in human form.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Buck said cheerfully, flipping the camera to selfie mode. “Okay — ‘FireSafeWithRavi & Buck Live AMA: Ask Us Anything (within reason, Bobby’s watching).’ Perfect.”

Ravi groaned. “Don’t tag Bobby.”

Buck was already typing. “Too late.”

The chat exploded instantly.

💬 @FirehouseFandom: THEY’RE LIVE 😭🔥
💬 @hoseandbros: firefighter bfs era let’s go
💬 @safetyslut: this duo keeps me hydrated
💬 @laddertrucklvr: I’m watching this at work and my boss thinks I’m taking a safety course

Ravi cleared his throat, professional mode on. “Welcome, everyone. Today we’re doing a firefighter AMA—ask us about drills, safety, training—”

Buck leaned into frame. “—or, you know, about how many firefighters it takes to carry a cat down a ladder.”

Ravi stared at him. “No one’s asking that.”

💬 @laddertrucklvr: can you demonstrate the correct way to carry a cat down a ladder?

Buck’s eyes lit up. “Oh look, someone asked!”

He lunged for the couch, grabbing a plush orange tabby someone had left there weeks ago. “Step one,” he announced, lifting it like Simba, “respect the cat’s authority.”

“Step two,” he continued, turning dramatically toward the camera, “always maintain eye contact. They can smell fear.”

Ravi dragged a hand down his face. “Please don’t drop the fake cat.”

Buck spun in a triumphant circle, glittery crop top glinting under the ring light. “Step three—be majestic.”

Ravi muttered, “We’re supposed to be credible.”

“Credibly majestic,” Buck countered.

The chat erupted:

@laddertrucklvr: RESPECT THE CAT’S AUTHORITY 😭😭😭

@HoseBeforeBros: this man is singlehandedly ending professionalism
@hydrantgirl: ravi’s face = every coworker forced into a viral moment
@FirehouseFandom: I trust buck with my cat and possibly my taxes

Ravi groaned, half laughing. “We’re doomed.”

Buck leaned closer, cheek brushing Ravi’s shoulder. “But, like… photogenicly doomed.”

@SafetyButMakeItSexy: buck pls save ME next
@HoseBeforeBros: the chemistry is killing me
@FirehouseFandom: they’re not even TRYING to be normal 😭

Meanwhile, in a different apartment entirely, Eddie sat on the floor, laptop open, pretending to work on reports.
The phone buzzed with a notification: FireSafeWithRavi is LIVE.
He sighed. He wasn’t checking it.
Then another ping.
And another.
And then Buck’s laugh — that stupid, bright, full-body laugh — drifted through his speaker.

He caved.

One tap, and there they were. Ravi, calm and collected in a soft hoodie; Buck, glowing like he’d swallowed a spotlight. The comments raced by faster than Eddie’s pulse.

💬 @laddertrucklvr: buck’s smile should be a controlled substance
💬 @hoseandbros: ravi’s hand on buck’s shoulder??? excuse me???
💬 @captainDadReact: someone alert eddie he’s being replaced by a meme duo

Eddie muttered, “Funny,” and told himself it wasn’t jealousy. He was just... monitoring public engagement. For safety reasons.

“Okay,” Buck said suddenly, eyes bright with an idea that was definitely bad. “Next trend — the smoke detector challenge!”

Ravi frowned. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is now!” Buck chirped. “Question from @FireSafeAndThirsty — ‘How many firefighters does it take to check a fire alarm?’”

Ravi deadpanned, “One.”

Buck grinned. “Incorrect. Minimum three. One to hold the ladder, one to check the alarm, and one to record a TikTok of it.”

“Not funny,” Ravi said — even as he adjusted the camera for a second angle.

Buck pointed at him triumphantly. “Aha! Enabler.”

He climbed onto a chair under the ceiling smoke detector, helmet slightly askew, tongue between his teeth in concentration. Ravi filmed from below, commentary low and amused.

“Now remember,” Buck said solemnly, pressing the test button, “always check your alarms—” beep! “—and your vibes.”

Ravi groaned. “You can’t say that.”

“I just did!”

💬 @laddertrucklvr: educational and hot
💬 @HoseBeforeBros: where’s Eddie tho 👀
💬 @SafetyButMakeItSexy: Buck babe, do the alarm check in slow-mo next time

Buck read that one aloud, delighted. “You heard the fans!”

Ravi muttered, “I’m regretting this entire partnership.”

The regret was short-lived — because the next thing Buck did was set the alarm off for real by accident.

“False alarm!” Buck shouted, waving a towel at the smoke detector while Ravi doubled over laughing.

💬 @FirehouseFandom: i’ve never seen a man so beautiful and so dumb at the same time
💬 @laddertrucklvr: ravi’s laugh = serotonin
💬 @CaptainDadReact: that’s OSHA’s problem now 💀
💬 @TruckieTrash: buck needs supervision, send eddie immediately

Eddie, meanwhile, was pacing his living room like a man under siege.
He could practically hear Buck’s grin through the screen, the laughter that came too easy, too warm.
The kind of laughter that used to be his.

He scrolled, knowing he shouldn’t. Every few seconds, Buck’s voice cracked through — teasing, easy, happy.
When Ravi snorted at something Buck said, it hit harder than it should have.

The chat didn’t help.

💬 @HoseAndBro: i love how in sync they are 🥹
💬 @FirehouseFandom: did y’all see them bump heads???
💬 @laddertrucklvr: they’re shoulder to shoulder AGAIN
💬 @CaptainDadReact: someone tell eddie to log off before he combusts

He exhaled sharply. “Professional, Eddie. You’re—”
The phone dinged with another notification. Eddie set his phone down, then picked it up again.
“—hopeless,” he finished grimly.

Ravi’s apartment was quieter now — at least compared to ten minutes ago, when the alarm was still echoing faintly in their ears. The ring light had been switched off, but it left a faint afterglow in the room, like the memory of chaos still hung in the air.

Buck flopped onto the couch with a groan, phone balanced on his chest. “Okay, that was objectively one of our best lives yet.”

Ravi sat beside him, laptop open as analytics refreshed in real time. “We gained nine thousand followers.”

Buck grinned. “See? Public service and entertainment.”

“You set off a fire alarm,” Ravi reminded him. “In your own words, that’s—”

“—‘controlled chaos,’” Buck interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows. “It’s branding now.”

Ravi shook his head but couldn’t hide the small, reluctant smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“Admit it,” Buck said, leaning in, voice dropping into that teasing warmth he didn’t even realize he used. “You love it.”

Ravi didn’t answer. He just reached over and plucked the phone from Buck’s chest, scrolling through comments with mock disgust.
“‘Buck, marry me,’ ‘Ravi’s laugh cured my depression,’ ‘they’re the reason my smoke alarm went off’? These are your people.”

Buck snorted, rolling to look at him. “Correction — our people. We’re a package deal now.”

“God help us all,” Ravi muttered — but he didn’t move away when Buck’s arm brushed his shoulder.

For a while, they just sat there — screens glowing, laughter still ghosting the air. Ravi’s cat jumped up onto the back of the couch, winding between them like it knew exactly where to sit to make things look suspiciously domestic.

Buck reached up to scratch behind its ears. “And, where were you during my cat demonstration huh?”

Ravi sighed, half-exasperated, half-laughing. “Being the smarter one and hiding out of sight of you.”

“Don't be rude,” Buck said cheerfully. “He loves me. We are all becoming influencers including this lil guy”

Ravi gave up trying to look unimpressed. “You’re never living this down.”

 Eddie sat at his kitchen table, the faint blue light of his phone screen painting shadows across his hands. He’d been staring at Buck’s name in his messages for at least five minutes.

Buck🧯🔥:
you SEE that live?? chaos. but like… fun chaos.
ravi says we should make it weekly lmao
you’d have loved it eds 😂

Eddie’s thumb hovered over the keyboard. He could type something casual — something easy, something like “nice work” or “you two are a menace.”

But every time he tried, the words turned sour.

He deleted his draft for the third time, leaned back in the chair, and sighed. The apartment was too quiet. Chris was already asleep. The hum of the fridge filled the silence — steady, grounding, and deeply, deeply lonely.

He finally typed:

Eddie🔥🔥:

You’re gonna set your own apartment on fire one day.

It was safe. It was teasing. It wasn’t honest.

Three dots appeared immediately.

Buck🧯🔥:
lol yeah probably
but hey, ravi’s good with fire extinguishers 😉

Eddie stared at that last emoji like it had personally offended him.
He dropped his phone on the table, rubbed a hand over his face, and muttered, “Professional, Diaz. Real professional.”

Then he got up, flicked the light off, and left the phone facedown.

But his chest still ached, and his jaw wouldn’t unclench.

Meanwhile, back at Ravi’s apartment, Buck and Ravi were still scrolling through the flood of duets and stitches.

Buck nudged him. “Look — someone edited us into a fake movie trailer.”

Ravi groaned, “Oh god.”

Buck grinned. “‘Two firefighters. One hose. Zero chill.’”

Ravi threw a cushion at him. “You’re banned from reading the internet out loud.”

Buck caught it easily, laughing so hard his head tipped back. The sound filled the room — bright and effortless.

And somewhere across town, Eddie lay awake, trying not to replay that laugh in his head like a song he couldn’t turn off.