Would you love me if i didn't remember you?
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Buck had seen Eddie do a lot of things. Bleed, scream, cry, crack his knuckles like he was about to commit murder. But he had never seen Eddie walk into the firehouse kitchen in a black tank top and a manbun—a loose one, like it just accidentally happened while he was cooking. Buck choked on his water. Actually choked. Hen had to slap his back twice. “What,” Buck wheezed, eyes wide, “what is that.” “It’s just hair, Buckaroo,” Eddie said, leaning against the counter like a smug Adonis sent to personally ruin Buck’s life. “Grows when you stop shaving it.” Ravi was frozen mid-chew. Chim whispered “Holy shit” like they were watching a particularly scandalous telenovela. And Buck? Buck could feel his brain short-circuiting as Eddie reached up, pulled the tie loose, shook his hair out, and then casually re-bundled it like it wasn’t the most illegal thing Buck had ever witnessed. “You good?” Eddie asked, eyes locking with his. “Y-yeah,” Buck muttered, voice cracking. “I just—I think I forgot how to stand.”















