Archive of Our Own

It’s not that Eddie ever thought it would happen—because he hadn’t. But if he had actually allowed himself to think about it for more than a few seconds, he definitely wouldn’t have ever imagined it happening like this.

He wakes up one morning bleary-eyed and with a pounding head. It takes him a moment to figure out his surroundings. Everything’s a little hazy; his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, and it tastes like something went and died in the back of his throat—feels like it too. It’s not terribly bright in the room— his room, he realizes belatedly, not sure how he got here—but it’s bright enough that once he opens his eyes, he immediately squeezes them shut again with a groan.

They’d gone out last night, he remembers briefly, all of them, the whole team. To celebrate—whatever the hell they wanted, really. They’d gotten into the habit of doing that a lot lately, celebrating just for the sake of celebrating. It didn’t always involve late nights and copious amounts of alcohol; they weren’t all in their 20s anymore (except for Ravi, who was just on the edge at 28 years old. But he was sensible enough to limit his intake when they all went out. He’d become the keeper of keys, phones, and embarrassing blackmail material that he later traded with Chimney for cash). Last night, though, their celebration definitely involved copious amounts of alcohol, and Eddie’s paying for it, greatly.

He groans again, just because, and tilts his head to the side, blinking warily at his side table and trying to read his alarm clock.

It’s only 9 am. He really misses the days when hangovers meant sleeping past noon.

There’s a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen on his nightstand which is an unusual display of foresight for his drunk self.

With a heavy sigh, he pushes himself up in bed, leaning against the headboard and reaching out to twist the bottle of ibuprofen open, dump two pills into his palm, and toss them back with a swig of water and a quick thanks to his past, drunk self for—for once—having his back.

At that very moment—mid-swallow—he realizes that there’s another body in the bed with him, which is alarming enough point blank.

But, of course, it’s not just anybody.

There’s a long plane of pale skin and soft muscle extending from beneath Eddie’s duvet, a neck riddled with bite marks and hickeys, a hint of stubble, slightly parted pink lips, and a splash of red over the eyes.

Buck is in his bed with him. Buck is naked. In Eddie’s bed. With him.

“Shit.” Eddie says with a swallow, staring down at Buck’s sleeping form.

Buck makes a soft sound before snuggling further into Eddie’s pillows. Eddie blinks.

“Shit.”

Panic comes blissfully slow to Eddie’s alcohol-soaked brain, but it comes nonetheless, clawing an agonizing path up from the depths of his chest and into his throat, pushing at the backs of his teeth, until he swallows it all back down, and forces himself to take in one heaving breath after the other.

It all comes back to him in flashes.

“Maybe that’s enough margaritas for you two,” Hen says, not unkindly, her eyebrows crawling up her forehead, lips pressing together as she tries not to smile.

The crew has dwindled down for the night, leaving Hen to third-wheel with Buck and Eddie, though the two of them don’t quite understand that that’s what’s happening. Buck and Eddie are draped over each other in their booth, giggling at everything and nothing.

“We’re fine,” Buck says, rolling his head to grin at her and accidentally knocking his forehead against Eddie’s. Eddie just huffs out a laugh in response. “What’re you so worried about, Henrietta?”

“I’m just remembering the last time you had one margarita too many, Evan,” Hen says pointedly, tilting her head at him. Buck grumbles and detaches himself from Eddie, who pouts as he mirrors Buck’s movements, the two of them leaning against the sticky table and blinking solemnly at Hen.

“That was a different time,” Buck argues, waving his finger across the table. “I’m different now. Not gonna kiss Lucy t’night.”

Eddie pulls a face at that, which makes Hen sigh and rest her chin on her hand, looking across the table at the two of them like they’re a lost cause—which they’d both protest against if their attention was even pointed in her direction.

“No,” Eddie cuts in, leaning closer to Buck and looking at him very seriously. “No kissing women for Buck tonight.”

Buck drags his eyes over to Eddie, his upper body making a slow swooping motion as if it takes all of his efforts. He blinks a little bit, like Eddie’s blurry in his field of sight, and he needs to refocus on him. His lips part as he processes what’s in front of him, eyes darting down from the severe line of Eddie’s eyebrows to the wetness of his lips and back again.

“Nope,” Buck agrees eventually, sounding breathless. “No, I’m—I’m being good tonight.”

Which—makes something flash in Eddie’s eyes, which makes Buck’s eyebrows raise;
that uniquely Buckley curiosity rushing through his veins with the urge to chase down that flash and study it, to figure out how to make it happen again.

“Oh my god,” Hen mutters. “I can’t be alone with you two. I am not getting involved in whatever this is.”

Eddie’s frozen, staring down at Buck like if he stares hard enough, the image will fade away, and he’ll be staring at his very normal, very empty, very sexless bedsheets again like it’s any normal Saturday.

Except Buck doesn’t disappear because this is not, in fact, any normal Saturday, and all Eddie’s staring is managing to do is sear Buck’s back muscles into his memory, and Eddie groans, burying his face in his hands.

“Get a grip, Diaz,” He mumbles to himself.

There has to be a rational explanation for this. Just because Buck is in his bed naked doesn’t mean anything happened between them. 

Never mind the fact that Buck runs so cold on a good day that he insists on sleeping in socks and hoodies—like a monster, yet here he is bare as the day he was born. Never mind the fact that Buck’s neck is covered in hickeys, and Eddie has the faintest idea that he now knows what the skin on Buck’s neck tastes like. Never mind the fact that this is Eddie’s bed, and this is Buck, and this is Buck and Eddie, and for months now, Eddie’s found it harder and harder to remind himself why he shouldn’t know what the skin on Buck’s neck tastes like.

Never mind all of that. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

He still might throw up, though. So Buck chooses that moment to wake up.

He makes another soft sound that hits Eddie straight in the chest, shifting against the pillow one more time before his eyes slowly blink open. Buck is, somehow, quicker on the draw than Eddie was, probably because he’s facing Eddie, who’s sitting up in bed, shirtless, staring down at him with the most bewildered look on his face.

Buck furrows his brows before dragging his eyes up Eddie’s torso and meeting his eyes. There’s a moment where there’s absolutely nothing behind Buck’s eyes—they’re just completely blank—before his mouth drops open, and his eyes widen slightly, and all he can say is, “Uh.”

Which is fair, Eddie thinks.

They don’t stay at the bar much longer after Hen leaves them, the two of them deciding that if they’re going to be alone together, then they’d much rather be alone together at home. Home being Eddie’s house, of course.

They share a ride that has them squeezed together in the back of a compact car, at least three sizes too small for Buck alone, his long legs practically wrapped around Eddie’s as they slump into the backseat together.

It’s nice, is the thing. Even though it shouldn’t be, the two of them practically sat on top of each other, unspeaking as the nondescript jazz music plays softly over the car radio. It feels warm—and fuzzy, which might be the tequila, in all fairness, but Eddie’s pretty sure it’s mostly Buck.

When they’re home, they pile onto the couch together and toss on some movie that neither of them could be bothered to recall if you asked, and then—well, the memories get blurred there.

Eddie knows that, at some point, he ended up in Buck’s lap, the taste of lime and tequila on his tongue. That only lasted so long before it was uncomfortable, stiff denim and 30-something-year-old joints and all.

He just remembers that Buck had been so solid under him, so warm. He—

They stare at each other a moment longer before Buck presses his face down into the pillow and lets out a long sigh.

“What happened?” He asks into the pillow, which Eddie only understands because he’s spent the last five years practicing the art of decoding Buck.

“That’s a good question,” Eddie replies like he hasn’t spent every waking second (three minutes) retracing last night’s events.

“Did we—”

“I’m not really sure.”

“Because it feels like we probably—”

“It looks like I attacked you last night.”

Buck shifts again, lifting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“I—or, uh, someone. I don’t…your neck,” Eddie says weakly, gesturing to his own neck. Buck blinks at him for a moment before he pushes up onto his knees, climbs out of the bed and—fully naked—scrambles out of Eddie’s room and into the bathroom.

Eddie sends a very quick thank you to whatever saint decided to grant him the small, sweet mercy that Christopher stayed over with Karen and Denny last night.

“Oh my god, Eddie,” Buck yells from the bathroom. Eddie winces.

“We don’t—we don’t know that that was me.”

When Buck comes back in, he’s at least had the decency to wrap a towel around his waist. Eddie might even go to church this Sunday, actually, pay his proper respects and be the good Catholic boy his parents always wanted him to be.

Because he’s done so many good Catholic boy things lately.

“Who the hell else would it have been, Eddie?” Buck asks, and his voice is just on the edge of shrill, and Eddie wants to ask him to keep it down just a notch, but he also wants to reach out and run a hand through Buck’s bedridden hair, taming it ever so slightly. He refrains from both; this is hardly the appropriate time or place.

“We slept together,” Buck continues, his voice wavering slightly. Eddie, for his part, doesn’t even flinch, which makes Buck feel a little crazy. But Eddie has a whole three minutes of processing time on him, so—it’s not the same, really. He blinks and licks his lips, shifting on his feet. “Eddie, we slept together.”

“We shouldn’t have had that many margaritas,” is all Eddie says as he leans back against the headboard and squeezes his eyes shut.

“ Eddie , we—”

“I know, Buck. I know,” Eddie cuts him off, holding his hands up. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Now that Buck’s awake, the panic in Eddie’s chest slowly starts to creep away. It’s familiar, like those moments when Buck is in the hospital, and Eddie’s waiting with bated breath for him to wake up, and tilt the world back right on its axis. They’re partners, after all. As long as they do it together, they can figure out anything.

Even this. Probably.

“What do we do now?” Buck asks eventually, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed. Eddie tilts his head forward again, rubbing his jaw with his hand.

“This doesn’t have to be weird,” He starts.

Buck raises an eyebrow at him. “These marks aren’t going to fade for at least a week. Everyone at the station’s gonna know.”

“They don’t have to know it was me.”

“Oh,” Buck snorts, rolling his eyes. “Right, so I’m just supposed to let everyone think I became Buck 1.0 again overnight—picked up some random girl at the bar and let her wreak havoc on my neck. Cool. You know—”

“Buck,” Eddie says sternly. Buck’s mouth snaps shut, and he looks at Eddie, wide-eyed. “First off, it doesn’t have to be a girl. Second, there was nothing wrong with Buck 1.0 or any of the other versions of you that you think you were. Third, do you want everyone to know that we had sex last night? Drunk sex?”

Buck makes a strangled sound in way of answering because it’s complicated, actually.

“It was just,” Eddie continues, waving his hands and absolutely not looking at Buck. “The alcohol. We drank more than we should have. We just…you know, were two people…who…needed something in the moment and…we got it.”

“We got it,” Buck repeats quietly.

Eddie nods, “We got it.”

“From each other.”

“It—it doesn’t have to mean anything, Buck.”

Even as he says it he feels something sink in his stomach. Buck’s face is unreadable, which scares him, but he doesn’t see another way forward.

They’re just two adults with needs. People sleep with other people all the time without it meaning anything, and that’s fine. Eddie doesn’t, not really. But—people do.

That’s got to be what this is because—well—if Buck wanted him, Eddie would know.

“I can’t even remember what happened last night, really,” Buck says, turning away from Eddie, which feels like all the answer Eddie needs.

“Yeah,” He nods, staring down at his hands. “It’s all just. A blur, really.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees quietly. “So…we just pretend it never happened?”

Eddie nods again, still staring at his hands. “Yeah. It was just a one-time thing. An accident. It’ll never happen again.”

“Right. Never again.”

“So…we’re good?”

Buck heaves a sigh. Eddie watches the way his shoulders drop and imagines it’s out of relief, not resignation. “Yeah. We’re good.”

It’s easier than it probably should be, after that, to fall back into a sense of normalcy. Buck ducks into the bathroom for a shower and Eddie slips into sweatpants and a t-shirt to make them coffee and a quick breakfast in the kitchen.

Buck borrows some clothes from Eddie, like usual, and Eddie does his best to ignore the smattering of hickeys on Buck’s neck, washing down the memory of salt on skin with coffee and toast.

Buck leaves for his loft after an hour, and Eddie picks up Chris from the Wilson’s (Karen is the one who greets him at the door because Hen is still in bed nursing her own hangover), and he spends the rest of his 48 hours off not thinking about it at all.

The team gives Buck a good ribbing about his neck when they return for their next shift, which makes Buck duck his head to hide his blush, avoiding Eddie’s eye. Eddie pretends to be unaffected by it all until Lucy takes pity on him and whisks Buck away to the locker room to try to help him cover it all up.

Things are going very smoothly if you ask Eddie, until Hen slides into the chair across from him and narrows her eyes at him over his coffee. It’s a silent staring match for about 15 seconds before Eddie folds.

“Hi, Hen.”

“Hi, Eddie.”

Another moment of silence. Eddie’s fingers twitch against his mug.

“Did you want to talk about something?”

“You saw Buck’s neck when he came in,” Hen says, cutting right to the chase. Eddie nods but doesn’t say anything, taking a careful sip from his mug. “It looks like he was mauled. By a beast. Any…idea where they came from?”

Eddie takes a measured breath. He prepared for this. He sets his mug down and shrugs with practiced nonchalance.

“He…said he met some girl at the bar on Friday.”

“He said he met some girl at the bar on Friday,” Hen repeats, deadpan.

“That’s what he said,” Eddie keeps his face perfectly neutral, just a slight quirk to his lips, like this is just a normal story about a normal thing that normal Buck would do.

“I see. So…this was after you said he wasn’t going to be kissing any women that night?”

Eddie swallows and raises one shoulder in a weak shrug. Hen raises her eyebrows at him.

“And he—what? Took her to the bathroom while you were sitting right there and just let her at him? Came back out 15 minutes later, and that was it? Or am I actually supposed to believe that you just left him at the bar that night by himself while you went home alone?” Hen doesn’t pull a single punch, and Eddie does his absolute best to maintain eye contact with her. He’s been in war zones before. He can do this.

“He already told us the story, Hen.”

Hen stares at him a moment longer, worrying her bottom lip. Eddie sits as still as possible, his muscles tense and that familiar suffocating feeling heavy in his chest. Frank would have so much to say to him right now.

Hen closes her eyes eventually, dropping her chin a little and shaking her head in disappointment, not towards Eddie, but towards herself.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to get involved in this,” She says quietly.

“Involved in what?” Eddie asks. Her eyes flash up to meet his, and he holds his breath.

“You two were all over each other when I left you in the bar, Eddie.”

“...Hen.”

“ Eddie ,” Hen repeats with a gentle urgency, leaning towards him and dropping her voice. “What happened on Friday night, is it going to happen again?”

She knows. Because, of course, she does. Eddie feels painfully transparent.

He swallows, finally breaking eye contact with Hen and staring down into his mug, wishing that he could crawl inside of it and be washed down the sink with the rest of the coffee grounds.

He’s been doing really well, considering Buck’s been walking around for the past half hour with marks from Eddie’s mouth on his neck. He hasn’t thought about it much, really.

But—

“Eddie,” Buck sighs as Eddie breaks off to kiss along his jaw, down the side of his neck. It’s an intoxicating sound that goes straight to Eddie’s head as he presses open-mouthed kisses to Buck’s skin, dragging his tongue along the muscle of Buck’s neck.

In the haze, Eddie does his best to memorize the taste. He’s been thinking about it for months—years really, if he’s being honest—but only in the last few months has he given himself the permission to truly and honestly think about it.

He keeps himself on a short leash, of course. At first, he allowed himself to look at Buck—really look at him—because he was just starting to understand and unravel his attraction to men. It was normal, he thought, to be able to look at someone like Buck, his best friend, his partner, co-parent to his child, who was all 6 foot 2, solid muscle, legs a mile long, the brightest smiles on any man he’d ever seen, dimples, bright blue eyes, and laugh lines—

It didn’t take long for Eddie to realize that he wasn’t just simply admiring Buck; he wanted to do a whole lot more than just admire him. He wanted to touch him, feel him, taste him.

He wanted—oh, he wanted so much.

And in this moment, with Buck so warm and solid beneath him, his skin between Eddie’s teeth as he sucks hard enough to leave marks, the victory tastes so, so sweet.

The thing is, he doesn’t ever want to stop. He’s gotten his first taste of Buck, his first feel of Buck under him, and all he wants is more. He wants to do this forever—he wants Buck forever.

“No,” Eddie says. He lifts his eyes to meet Hen’s and works his jaw. “No, it was a one-time thing.”

Hen’s eyes soften, and Eddie can’t take that, so he pushes back from the table and stands abruptly, knocking the chair off balance, so it rocks back and forth.

“Eddie,” Hen starts to say, her voice gentle.

“I’ve got—I’ve gotta wash this mug. Before it gets gross.”

—

It’s been three weeks since Buck and Eddie woke up in bed together, and they’re doing—fine.

It’s been three weeks, and the memory of Buck’s skin against his isn’t the first thing Eddie thinks about when he sees Buck’s bare arms anymore. It might be the second or third thing he thinks, maybe even the fourth or fifth on a really, really good day—but it’s not the first, and that’s a development.

Buck’s hickeys fade. The vignettes of memories from that night blur together, drifting apart and morphing with the flashes of skin that Eddie only ever sees in his dreams.

It’s—he’s doing fine. He doesn’t think about kissing Buck anymore than he did before he kissed him, really.

It’s just that before, when he would think about kissing Buck, it was just that. A thought, a dream, a figment of his imagination, a fantasy.

But now, when he thinks about kissing Buck, it feels like something real. There’s something that unfurls in his chest when he thinks about it—it reminds him of the way Buck’s fist twisted into his shirt, pulling him closer before flattening against his chest as Eddie straddled him and licked into his mouth.

It’s different, is all. It was something to adjust to before, something he believed would fade over time. But now, it’s something he knows he’ll never get over; it’s something he knows, something he wants.

So. He’s doing fine.

Buck never mentions it, so neither does Eddie. They have a total of two awkward days around each other that involve some fumbling around, bumping into corners and knocking hips, and a good amount of blushing, but that’s all it is before they return to the status quo.

It’s good, moving forward. They said it was never going to happen again, and it doesn’t.

Until, of course, it does.

With their luck, they make it as far as Halloween.

Bobby and Athena want to throw a big party this year, and so they do. They invite the whole station, some of Athena’s friends from the department, a few people from dispatch, and they enforce a big No Kids policy because they just want everyone to let loose and have fun.

Eddie makes the mistake of asking May and Linda for costume advice, which is how he ends up half naked and in a skirt, freezing cold in Bobby and Athena’s kitchen.

“It’s not a skirt; it’s a tunic,” May corrects him as she breezes by him in the kitchen, slapping his hand away when he tries to tug the hem further down his thigh. “You’re a warrior, Eddie.”

“If I wore this into battle, I’d definitely die,” Eddie grumbles, pulling his hand away. He’s dressed as a gladiator with about an eighth of the of the appropriate armor, if you count the flimsy plastic shield resting on one of the stools beside him. The faux leather skirt hits him just below mid-thigh, which Linda says is modest, actually. He has a thin piece of velvet draped over his shoulders, pinned on one side so that most of his torso is still bare and on display. He’d traded the wrap-around gladiator sandals for a simple pair of black flip-flops that he already owned, which he now feels unreasonably self-conscious about.

“Good thing you’re at Bobby and Athena’s house and not actually at war,” Ravi pipes up, leaning over the counter to grab some popcorn. Eddie turns to him, and he grins. “I think you look great, Eddie.”

“Thanks, Ravi. You too, though your costume’s lacking a little imagination, gotta be honest.”

Ravi opted for the simplest costume of them all, probably. He’s just wearing his turnout pants and no shirt, suspenders pulled over his bare shoulders, fake soot and ash dusted all over him, and his hair all askew.

“Hey, it’s cost-effective. Plus, I figured if Cap could take the gear home for a little roleplay, then I should be able to—”

“Ew,” May cuts him off, shoving the bowl of popcorn into his hands. “Can we not bring that up again?”

“I agree,” Bobby calls, stepping into the kitchen to pull open the fridge and grab the platters of pre-prepped food to grill. He shakes his head in Eddie and Ravi’s direction as he leaves the way he came. “It was one time.”

“Sure it was,” Eddie and Ravi say together.

“Ew,” May repeats, grabbing her drink and rushing out of the kitchen towards her friends.

It takes a while for everyone else to arrive. When Hen and Karen show up, they settle around the counter with Eddie, talking with him and keeping him distracted until—

Until Buck walks in. Maddie and Chimney walk in first, dressed in matching costumes, hands clasped tight between them, laughing like they exist mostly in their own bubble now. Eddie’s happy for them, genuinely, but they can only hold his attention for so long when Buck follows after them.

Buck’s dressed as a vampire this Halloween, as if Eddie’s tortured fantasies didn't have enough fuel already. His hair is loose and curled at the top of his head, which, again, like Eddie doesn’t have it bad enough. There’s a light dusting of eyeshadow under his eyes that makes him look dark and broody while also making his blue eyes pop. His fake fangs flash in the light as he smiles and greets people as he walks in.

Eddie can’t help but instantly imagine what it would be like to kiss Buck with those fangs, to slide his tongue against the tip of them, to feel the tug of them on his lower lip, feel them scrape down his neck as Buck kisses him, how they would sting if Buck bit into his shoulder with them.

It’s—a lot, and the slight dribble of fake blood down Buck’s chin and neck doesn’t help Eddie in the slightest.

The rest of his outfit consists of a simple black cape, a dark red waistcoat that’s structured enough to emphasize Buck’s waist—which Eddie wants to get his hands on immediately —while also leaving a fair bit of skin on display, and a tight-fitting pair of black leather pants.

Eddie wants him. Bad.

They’re panting as they fall back onto Eddie’s bed. Buck’s hair is loose and messy as he falls against the mattress, his cheeks flushed and mouth slick. Eddie’s going to get addicted to this; he knows it. He dives back in and kisses Buck, shoving the faintest voices of reason back into the shadows of his brain.

“Eddie,” Buck laughs, tilting his head away but winding his fingers through Eddie’s hair to keep him close all the same. Eddie kisses along his jaw, drops to his collarbone, and forms his mouth around the hard edge. He gets it, he does. He’s become a man possessed; what can he say?

“Sorry,” Eddie mumbles, pulling away and kneeling over Buck, giving them space to breathe.

“S’okay,” Buck grins, reaching up to cup Eddie’s cheek before trailing his hand down Eddie’s neck, his chest, down to his waist. “S’nice. I like it. Just. Surprised.”

Eddie shrugs, sliding his hands under Buck’s shirt and lifting it up, dragging his hands along Buck’s chest. He’s considerably warm for someone that constantly complains about being cold, and Eddie tips forward, kissing down his chest.

“You look so good,” He whispers against Buck’s skin, tracing his fingers along his tattoos before following with his lips. “I just—want to feel all of you. I want to taste all of you. I want—”

“Take it,” Buck groans as Eddie runs his tongue along the lines of Buck’s muscles, goosebumps raising on his skin. He tosses his head back and whines. “Take all of it, Eddie. W’tever you want.”

Which is a dangerous thing to say to someone like Eddie.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the voices that weren’t quite as effectively washed away by all of the alcohol remind him that he may never get this again. That this is his shot to getting everything he’s ever wanted. To remember it. To cherish it.

So he remembers it all.

He remembers Buck underneath him on the bed, remembers running his hands down Buck's chest before following with his mouth, kissing down his chest, pressing his lips against his tattoos, tracing lines of muscle with his tongue. Eddie gets a little obsessive when he's drunk—sue him.

He remembers crawling between Buck’s legs and pulling his pants down, biting into his thighs before tugging down his underwear and finally, finally getting his mouth on him.

He remembers the feel of Buck in his mouth, the weight of him on his tongue.

He remembers all the sounds Buck made as he fell apart, fingers woven into Eddie’s hair. He remembers the taste of Buck’s cum on his tongue.

The memory hits him like a wave where he leans against the kitchen counter in the middle of a conversation with Hen and Karen, and he immediately flushes bright red and hot. He wants nothing more than to push Buck up against the nearest wall and get himself another mouthful, and he’s almost certain that all of that is written all over his face, clear as day.

“Oh, I’m gonna need another drink before I deal with this,” Hen says, pushing past him to get to the kitchen.

“There’s nothing to deal with,” Eddie says absently, his eyes glued to Buck as he makes his way through Bobby and Athena’s living room, straight to Eddie, a moth to flame.

Eddie doesn’t even pretend to look away, to pretend like Buck’s not the only thing he has eyes for, watching him as he worms his way through the crowd.

“Hey,” He says easily when he finally makes it all the way to Eddie, like this is normal.

“Hi,” Eddie says, a two-letter word cracked in half as it tumbles its way out of his mouth. He clears his throat. Normal. “Hi.”

Buck grins and his fake teeth glimmer in the light, and Eddie swallows so hard he nearly chokes.

“Nice costume,” He says, wincing at the way his voice comes out. It's a little too loud, a little too deep, and a little too much like he’s trying not to be affected by all of this.

“You think so?” Buck asks, ducking his head in that way that makes Eddie want to kiss him stupid. “It’s not too much?”

It’s not too much. It’s definitely not too much. It’s so not too much that it’s a problem, actually.

“It’s perfect; you look great,” Eddie says, his voice too soft and too earnest, but it makes Buck blush which Eddie will take over self-preservation any day.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Buck lets his eyes rake over Eddie’s body in a way Eddie knows he wouldn’t have done before—before they slept together and agreed not to talk about. Before they decided to pretend that they didn’t notice all the ways their relationship has shifted since then. “I like the skirt.”

“It’s not a skirt,” Eddie argues, tugging it down. Buck’s eyes flash to Eddie’s waist, the skirt riding low on his hips.

He drags them up slowly to meet Eddie’s eyes, and both of them freeze, locked in a stalemate with each other.

Eddie can see it so clearly in his mind right now; his hand on the center of Buck’s chest, pushing him back further and further, the crowd easily parting for them until he has Buck pressed flush against the wall.

He can see himself dropping to his knees in front of Buck, sucking bruises into his hips as he unzips his pants and—

He wants. He wants .

And the thing is, he thinks Buck does too. He can see it in the way Buck’s eyes darken as they flick between Eddie’s eyes. They both agreed to move on, be normal, and pretend they don’t want this, but— why, again?

“Okay, hi,” Karen says suddenly, appearing beside them. “Drinks?”

It’s a bad idea. It’s a very bad idea. Buck turns to her, smiling. “Yeah, drinks.”

–

They wind up at Buck’s that night. Buck barely manages to lock the door behind them before Eddie has him pushed up against the wall, mouth slotted over his. Buck’s already taken the fangs off—he’d been complaining about them about 45 minutes into the party—which is a shame, but Eddie will make do.

Buck makes a surprised noise before he melts against the door, Eddie pressed against him, chest to chest. He reaches up to wrap his hand around the back of Eddie’s head, fingers brushing against the skin on his neck in a way that’s too sweet, too gentle. He opens his mouth wide and lets Eddie in, and Eddie takes what he can get. Last time, Buck tasted like tequila and lime; this time, Buck tastes like whiskey and smoke. Eddie wants it all.

He pulls back, and they take a moment to breathe, four pupils blown wide and staring into each other, before he ducks back down and attaches his mouth to the pulse point of Buck’s neck. He won’t leave any marks this time. He can be good, too.

“Fuck,” Buck curses, his head hitting the door with a soft thud. Eddie’s got his hips gripped firmly between his hands, and all Buck wants to do is let go and rut against him. The burning want brings him a bit of clarity. “Should—should we stop?”

Eddie’s head snaps up, and he instantly drops his hands from Buck’s hips. His eyes are wild, and his hair’s a little all over the place, lips parted as he breathes in and out heavily; Buck adores him like this, and it’s painful.

“Do you want to?” Eddie asks breathlessly, his eyes trained on Buck’s.

Buck squeezes his eyes shut, trying so hard to clear his head. But no matter how hard he tries, the answer is still there, loud and clear: no. No, he really fucking doesn’t.

“No,” He says honestly. “No, do you?”

“No,” Eddie says, slotting a thigh between Buck’s legs and rolling his hips, just to make it clear. They both groan, and Buck falls back against the wall.

He bares his neck, inviting Eddie back in to kiss it, and says, “Been thinking about this— you . Since that first night.”

Eddie pauses, breathing into the crook of Buck’s neck, before pulling back again, confusion on his face. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“Flashes,” Buck shakes his head, licking his lips and looking away from Eddie. “Bits and pieces.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say something, though he’s not sure what, but Buck surges forward, swallowing whatever response is on the tip of his tongue.

“I want—Eddie,” He pleads into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie nods, committing himself right then and there to a life doing whatever the fuck Evan Buckley asks him to do.

He doesn’t care that they’re both too sober to forget this in the morning. He doesn’t care that their already thin excuse of too much alcohol and fuzzy memories is already fading fast. He doesn’t care that they will wake up in the morning and have to deal with this mess that they’ve gotten themselves into. He doesn’t care about any of that.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie says, feeling the swoop in his stomach as they tip over the edge of whatever this is. “Whatever you need, Buck. Whatever you want.”

“Bed,” Buck says with a kiss, his hands pushing at Eddie’s waist. “Please.”

Eddie kicks his sandals off by the door as Buck slips out of his sneakers, hopping on one foot and nearly tumbling over, grabbing onto Eddie at the last second. They laugh as Buck falls into Eddie’s side, a brief moment before they’re grasping each other’s faces, lips meeting, hips rolling against each other.

Eddie pulls away first, grabbing Buck’s hand and leading him up the stairs to his loft. His heart’s pounding against his rib cage, a heavy beat, a battle hymn, but he drowns it out as he turns to face Buck, cupping his face in his hands and closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to face the vulnerability in Buck’s, pressing their mouths together.

Buck fumbles with the clasp on Eddie’s shoulder, preoccupied with Eddie’s tongue in his mouth, but eventually, he gets it done, and the velvet falls to Buck’s floor. They step over it, and Buck runs his hands down Eddie’s chest, humming in appreciation.

“God, you’re hot,” Buck mumbles against Eddie’s lips, nipping at him when he grins against him.

Eddie pulls the string of Buck’s cape, undoing the tie and letting it fall into a pile with the velvet, squeezing the muscles of Buck’s bare arms and letting out an appreciative groan. He stumbles back and sits on the edge of the bed, looking up at Buck with sparkling eyes as he runs his hands along the fabric of his waistcoat.

“This thing nearly killed me when I first saw you in it,” Eddie admits, dropping his eyes to focus as he undoes the buttons. “I wanted to push you up against the wall right there and get your dick in my mouth so bad.”

There’s not enough alcohol in his system to blame for the words he’s saying, the thoughts he’s admitting to, but he says them anyways, blood rushing in his ears as he cranes his neck to run his tongue over Buck’s nipple.

Buck whines, dragging his hands from Eddie’s shoulders and into his hair. “You should’ve.”

Eddie pulls back and raises an eyebrow, a soft smirk on his lips that Buck’s going to kiss off so quickly. He pushes Eddie back onto the bed, tossing his waistcoat off his shoulders before climbing up over him, rolling his hips against his, and dropping his head in a moan.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, gripping Buck’s hip with one hand, trailing the other up to thumb at his nipple, grinning wildly at his response. “You would’ve let me? Right there for everyone to see?”

Buck moans again, hips stuttering against Eddie’s. This feeling is familiar to Eddie, like storming into a blazing building, structural damage all around them as the flames close in. He’s never been more prepared to burn.

“Yeah,” Buck gasps as he rocks forward. “Least then everyone would know.”

Eddie blinks through the smoke, staring at Buck’s face flushed with pleasure. He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he reaches down and cups Buck through his pants, leaning forward and muffling any words they could possibly say.

He doesn’t want to ruin this. Not tonight.

–

Eddie wakes up the following morning with a start. He inhales sharply, eyes flying open, heart stuttering in his chest.

He doesn’t remember dreaming at all last night. He just remembers falling into bed with Buck, trading the laziest kisses until they fell asleep. And the sex. He remembers that too. Vividly.

He swallows, waiting for his heart rate to go down. Buck has one arm thrown across his chest, his cheek pressed against Eddie’s shoulder as he sleeps in blissful peace. Eddie wishes he could do the same, snuggle back into the warm bed, let his eyes close, and drift back off into whatever peaceful dreamland Buck’s currently inhabiting.

But he can’t now. Now that he’s awake and the reality of the night before is all around him, he feels every atom of his body come alive. They vibrate in place, screaming at him to get out , to run away from all of this as quickly as possible, to save himself from the collateral damage.

But he can’t do that. Not to Buck.

He eases out of the bed carefully and pads over to Buck’s closet, pulling out some clothes and heading down to the downstairs bathroom to shower.

He does his best to rinse all evidence of the night before off, scrubbing hard at his skin until he’s afraid it’ll turn raw. He stands under the showerhead for an unreasonable amount of time, imagining the water washing away every doubt, every question he has about whatever the hell they’re doing.

He knows he wanted last night to happen. He knows Buck wanted last night to happen. But they weren’t supposed to want it; they weren’t supposed to follow through with it.

Eddie knows he’s not supposed to do that anymore; keep himself from the things he wants. But things are different with Buck. He can’t make mistakes with Buck. He can’t risk their friendship. They made it clear that first morning; it didn’t mean anything.

The problem is that it means everything to Eddie. And if he and Buck aren’t on the same page, then this isn’t something they can keep doing. For Eddie’s sake, for Buck’s, and for the sake of their friendship. It has to end here.

Eddie steps out of the shower and towel dries his hair and tries to tell himself that this is just the end of them sleeping together, not the end of everything.

When Buck wakes up, Eddie’s frying eggs and bacon in the kitchen.

He crawls out of bed and grabs a hoodie and shorts to slip on before climbing down the stairs carefully, still half asleep.

It feels a little like a dream, seeing Eddie in his kitchen, hair still wet from his shower, bustling about after the night they had. He almost can’t believe it.

Buck’s had one-night stands before. He knows that Eddie’s different, that what they’re doing together is different from meeting some random stranger at a bar and dragging them home for a mutual exchange of simple pleasure and no attachments.

They’re full of attachments; they’re full of feelings. There’s nothing simple about this, about them. The first night was an accident—sure, maybe. But last night, they had fallen into bed together with enough sound mind to know exactly what they were doing.

He doesn’t know how to do this. He feels off balance and out of line. But he also knows that if there’s one person he can figure it out with, it’s Eddie.

“You’re still here,” He says quietly, unable to keep the awe from leaking into his voice. Eddie spins around from the stove to face him, eyes wide, before he huffs a small laugh.

“Yeah,” He gestures to the pan on the stove. “Kinda tradition at this point.”

Eddie turns back to the stove, shifting the eggs in the pan and struggling to maintain an even breath. Buck stands awkwardly at the foot of the stairs, not sure what to do next. He wants to cross the floor of his apartment, wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist, nuzzle into his neck, and feel his warmth spread to his own body.

Somehow, that doesn’t feel appropriate anymore. There’s something about the sun coming up that sheds light over every dark corner they could hide in during the night. The rules of their old life come back into play, and they can’t cross that line anymore, no matter how much they might want to.

His hands twitch by his sides; he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“I can make coffee?” Buck suggests, pointing towards the coffee pot.

“Would you?” Eddie turns his head, flashing a smile. “I could really use some before I gotta go pick up Christopher.”

They fall into their rhythm, moving around each other in the kitchen and talking easily about the night before—before they slipped into a shared ride to Buck’s apartment. Before they’d kissed against the door. Before they’d admitted to being more clear-headed than either of them wanted to pretend to be.

It falls apart a little when they sit at Buck’s table to eat. They usually just stand at the counter next to each other, too caught up in each other to bother the four steps it takes to go around the corner and sit at the table. They usually eat with their arms bumping into each other, so comfortable with such little space between them.

Now they sit several seats apart, a chasm of space between them that feels dangerously familiar to Buck.

They eat in silence for a minute before Buck breaks it.

“I feel like you’re freaking out.”

Eddie freezes, fork midair. He looks at Buck with naked eyes before he laughs a little and sets his fork down.

“I am,” He admits. He glances back down at his plate for a moment, then up at Buck, then back to his plate, opening his mouth, and closing it again, folding his hands in his lap.

“We’ve done this before, Eddie,” Buck says softly. Eddie looks up at him again, eyebrows high. Buck licks his lips before continuing. “We…had some drinks, we had sex…we woke up, and we had breakfast…and we kept going.”

Eddie’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “Like everything was normal.”

Buck shrugs, “It doesn’t have to be weird, right?”

Eddie presses his lips together. He picks up his fork and pushes his food around just to give him something to do.

“Do you think we can still do that?” He asks carefully. Buck nods, eyes wide.

“I—I don’t want things to change.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Buck backpedals fast. “Do—do you?”

“No,” Eddie says with a quick shake of his head. “No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” Buck breathes, easing back into his chair a little.

“So…we’re good?” Eddie asks.

Buck licks his lips and smiles a little. Eddie knows better than to believe it; he does, but Buck’s offering him an out, and he takes it like the selfish man he is. “Eddie, we’re always good.”

–

Eddie is not good.

Eddie picks Christopher up from Pepa’s. He had a long night of trick or treating and too much candy, so he promptly passes out in the back seat, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts as he drives on autopilot back to their house, doing everything he can to not think about the way Buck’s mouth felt on him the night before.

He gets Christopher into bed and stands in the kitchen for a full 30 minutes, glass of water in hand, staring out the window, thinking about the words Buck had whispered in his ear, the way his name sounded as Buck breathed it into the crook of his neck as he came into Eddie’s hand.

He does a load of laundry and thinks about the warmth of Buck’s bed, his body pressed against his, the way Buck nestled into him as he slept this morning.

Buck occupies his every thought, yet Eddie doesn’t reach out to him once during their 24 hours off. And Buck doesn’t reach out to him either.

It’s the longest they’ve gone not talking to each other since Eddie ghosted him earlier in the year, when he’d retreated into his corner and locked himself in his bedroom, before Buck had to break down the door, and kneel down on the floor next to him, amidst all the shattered glass and broken furniture, and help him put his life back together.

Somehow, he doesn’t think Buck’s going to be breaking down his door this time.

The next few weeks are hard, to say the least.

Buck is fine , normal even. It’s Eddie who can’t get it together, Eddie who started this mess but can’t finish it, Eddie who doesn’t know how to be normal around Buck anymore and is making it everyone else’s problem.

“It doesn’t have to be weird,” Buck echoes one day, pulling Eddie aside when he won’t, in fact, stop being weird.

Eddie doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s too late. That he’s too far gone, that he can’t promise Buck this time, not about this.

He doesn’t know what to say. Every time he tries to pull away, Buck only pulls him back, holding him close and begging for answers that Eddie doesn’t know how to give him.

Sorry, I can’t stop thinking about fucking you?

Sorry, I got the thing I’ve always wanted, but it wasn’t enough?

Sorry, I want you to move in with me and raise our kid with me until we have to send him off to college and then cry with me on the couch eating ice cream together for at least a week?

Sorry, I’m so in love with you that it hurts to look at you sometimes?

He can’t tell Buck any of that, but he also can’t keep going on pretending everything’s normal—even when Buck’s standing right in front of him asking him to.

He can’t. But he already swore himself to a life of doing whatever the hell Buck asks him to.

He’d done that a long time ago; sometime after, you can have my back any day, and before, it’s in my will, if I die, you become Christopher’s legal guardian .

He’s a mess he doesn’t know how to fix. He knows, somewhere deep in his bones, that this doesn’t have to ruin them. They’ve come back from so much in the last five years that there’s no reason this should be any different.

They’ve come back from bad first impressions, from dead wives; they’ve come back from crush injuries and tsunamis; they’ve come back from illegal fighting rings and months without talking, from train car fights, early-stage relationships, bullets in shoulders, and panic attacks; from prison hostage takers, and ruined Christmases, from break ups, and patch ups, and baseball bats, and the crumbling weight of self-doubt.

They’ve come back from a lot; they should be able to come back from this.

Eddie knows this; he does.

The problem is that his body doesn’t want to come back from this.

His body’s too busy remembering the feel of Buck’s lips against his, too busy missing the warmth of Buck’s body close to his. He wishes he could stop thinking about it, but he can’t.

The ideas and dreams that he’s held himself back from indulging in for months come flooding to him now, broken free by the fact that he’s had a taste of it all now.

He wants to greet Buck in the morning by running his fingers through his messy hair and pressing a kiss to his tired, downturned lips. He wants to trade morning kisses that taste like coffee and toothpaste and are so, so warm that they light his whole body up.

He wants to pull Buck close after a hard call, hand wrapped around the back of his neck, and hold him until they both fall apart, then mend their broken pieces one by one, together, always together.

He wants him in his bed, and on his couch, and in his kitchen, and on the counter, and in the car, and against the wall.

I don’t want things to change.

He doesn’t know how to explain how everything already has.

He doesn’t know how to not want Buck at this point. He’s not sure he wants to remember how to not want him ever again.

—

Eddie reaches his breaking point on New Year’s Eve.

The whole team is gathering at Eddie’s house. They’ve been hosting on rotation this year and Eddie was, at first, glad for an opportunity to have people over.

After they had fixed up the holes in his bedroom, Buck and Eddie had spent the summer doing all kinds of home improvements around the place. It had been nice; it gave Buck something to take his mind of Taylor; it gave Eddie something to focus on when the days got a little darker and harder to navigate.

If it wasn’t true before, there were now traces of Buck all over the house. It was nice, comforting even, especially these last few weeks when it felt like Buck himself was over less and less.

At first, Eddie had been excited to show it off. It’d been a while since the team had gathered in his house, and he had become really fond of the idea of traipsing around with Buck, showing off their handiwork.

But—things were different now. Everything felt off.

Even though Buck came over hours earlier like he usually did, even though he spent 45 minutes perched on the kitchen counter watching Eddie fret around the kitchen with flour on his face, his laughter filling up the space like it usually did. Even though he’d stuck by Eddie’s side the whole night so far, like he usually did.

It felt different.

He wasn’t drinking, for one.

For some reason, it felt like a rejection, though Eddie couldn’t figure out why. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to admit why.

Because maybe he’d pulled out a bottle early, before anyone else got there, and offered it to Buck. Because maybe a small part of him was hoping that they could excuse tonight like they’d excused any other night. It was a special night, after all.

But Buck had just looked at him carefully before waving his hand and saying, “Nah, I shouldn’t. I’m uh—not really interested in participating tonight.”

And it had stung, but Eddie put the bottles away without any more conversation, because he was respectful and because drinking alone always felt a little too depressing. And he’d kept refraining throughout the night because—it felt different.

And it felt a little like a rejection. Even though he knew it shouldn’t.

But, despite Eddie’s thoughts, Buck still sticks by him all night. They do, in fact, traipse through the house, showing off their different improvements. No one makes any comments about how much time Buck spends in Eddie’s house, though Eddie doesn’t really expect them too.

And Buck seems—well, he seems the same. He’s wearing a maroon sweater that fits like a glove, his hair is styled loosely on his head, and whenever they stand just so in front of the lights, it looks like he’s glowing golden. He keeps smiling at Eddie like nothing’s changed, standing shoulder to shoulder with him, following him through the house with a gentle hand on the small of his back.

It—it’s a lot that Eddie can’t wrap his brain around.

It feels suffocating at times, and he escapes out onto the back porch the second he gets a chance, once Buck finally breaks off to use the bathroom, easing the back door shut behind him and inhaling the fresh air.

It’s cooler now, the temperature dropping as the days have gotten shorter, the nights longer. The sting is refreshing almost, and Eddie takes another deep breath, allowing the cool air to burn in his lungs just for a moment.

Stepping off the edge of the porch, he settles down onto the edge, bracing his arms on the tops of his thighs.

It’s quieter out here, but the noise in his head is just as loud. He bends forward, dropping his head between his knees, and focuses on his breathing as Frank taught him.

It’s not long, of course, until he hears the door open behind him, the voices of everyone inside drifting out into the space until Buck—because of course it’s Buck, Eddie doesn’t even have to look over his shoulder to know it’s him—shuts the door quietly behind him. He hears Buck take a deep breath just as he did, before he joins him on the edge of the porch, long legs stretching out in front of him.

They’re quiet for a moment before Buck speaks. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, nodding gently. “Just, uh, kind of a lot in there.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, not looking at him. “Lot of people.”

Eddie hums, and they fall into silence again.

“It feels different this year, doesn’t it?” Buck says eventually, his voice so quiet that it almost blends in with the gentle sounds of the late LA night, but Eddie picks it up anyways.

He turns to face him, breath caught in his throat, but doesn’t say anything. Buck’s still looking away from him, eyes turned up towards the cloudy sky above them, but they dart to Eddie after a second. He looks away almost immediately, ducking his head a little, that shy, tempting smile back on his lips.

“I don’t know,” Buck says, chewing on his bottom lip. “I always looked forward to New Year’s when I was younger. Clean slate, and all of that. But…this year feels different.”

Eddie looks away from him, humming. “It’s been a big year.”

“Yeah,” Buck says with a soft laugh. “It’s like…a part of me isn’t even ready, you know? For it to change.”

When Eddie looks at him again, Buck keeps his eyes cast somewhere far away, where Eddie can’t quite reach him. He tries anyway. “Chimney would say time is fake anyways. The new year isn’t that different from any other day.”

“But it feels different , doesn’t it?”

“Buck,” Eddie says his name in the way he does when Buck starts to ramble; when he starts to lose himself and unravel like a loose thread on a worn garment; when Eddie needs to pull him back in and hold him close.

“Things change…all the time, Buck,” Eddie tries. Buck nods and looks down at the ground, his jaw tense.

“Yeah, but…we weren’t supposed to.”

Oh , he thinks, so we’re talking about us now . He opens his mouth to say something but he doesn’t even know what to say, so he closes it again, and stares soundlessly at Buck’s profile.

He wants to say that they haven’t changed. That they’re still the same Buck and Eddie that they were four months ago before that night at the bar.

But he knows that they aren’t. Even if, on the surface, everything about them has remained the same, there’s something just under the current that’s fundamentally shifted. Eddie’s been able to feel it in all of their interactions and now he knows Buck has too.

He’s pretty sure this is all his fault, so he moves to apologize, but Buck keeps talking.

“I’m so tired of pretending,” Buck says, and Eddie can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “Aren’t you?”

Eddie blinks, and Buck’s head finally turns up, eyes meeting Eddie’s, a quiet fire burning in them. Eddie’s never been great at lying to Buck, at keeping even his most closely guarded secrets from him, and even though he’s been trying for months, he finds himself weak in the heat of Buck’s gaze.

“Yeah…yeah, I am,” He says quietly.

“Then what are we doing, Eddie?”

Eddie shakes his head, unsure of how to respond.

“Look, I know we said we’d move on, we’d pretend everything was normal, we said we’d forget about it, but I—I can’t , Eddie. Can you?”

“No,” He says honestly. “I can’t—I haven’t.”

“Then if we want the same thing, why can’t we—”

“I don’t—” Eddie starts to say before he stops himself. Buck’s face shutters for a second before he continues. “I don’t know if we want the same thing. I don’t—I don’t want to just have sex with you, Buck. That’s not…that’s not what I want.”

Buck blinks. “Then what do you want?”

Eddie looks away, running a hand through his hair.

“I want…I want all of it. I want—” Eddie cuts himself off with a sigh, waving his hand helplessly in the air before dropping it back down to his lap.

He’s bared his heart to Buck plenty of times before, he knows this. But it feels different now. The words feel different where they sit on his tongue, like they’re too big for his mouth. He doesn’t know how to get them out, how to make sure that they’ll land where they need to.

“Eddie,” Buck says, reaching out to wrap a hand around Eddie’s knee. He turns more towards him and waits for Eddie to look back up and meet his eyes again. “Look—I’m—I’m right here, okay? And I—I really don’t want to go anywhere. So just…talk to me, please.”

“I want you,” Eddie breathes, searching Buck’s face. “I want all of you. I want…nights like this where it’s just us. I want parties with all of our friends and family. I want to wake up in the morning with you and not have to get up because I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I lay there any longer with you asleep on my shoulder. I want…I want to touch you, and I don’t want to have to make excuses that we’re too drunk or pretend we don’t remember any of it in the morning…I want it to be real.”

“Eddie—”

“I love you.”

Buck blinks, hand flexing on Eddie’s knee but not pulling away, so Eddie continues.

“I love you, and you’re right. I’m…I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

Eddie’s seen the look on Buck’s face before, the one where he’s not sure he can believe what he’s hearing. It’s the same look he wore when Eddie told him about the will, the wide-eyed nakedness, the hope and fear mixed into one, the disbelief, the doubt.

He doesn’t know how to reassure him in any other way. He reaches forward, fitting the edge of Buck’s jaw into the palm of his hand, caressing his cheek gently with his thumb. He watches Buck’s eyelashes flutter slightly, his lips parted.

“Buck,” He says quietly, leaning closer. His heart’s somewhere in his throat, pounding so hard he swears it echoes in the quiet night. Somewhere, he thinks this might be his last chance.

So he leans in until his face is just a few inches away from Buck’s, their warm breath mingling in the air between them, slow enough that Buck can pull back if this isn’t what he wants.

“Eddie,” Buck starts, voice stuttering, his tightening around Eddie’s knee. “I want—”

“What do you want, Buck?”

“I want it all too. Everything. I want you.”

“You’ve always had me,” Eddie assures before closing the distance and pressing their lips together.

It’s the first kiss they’ve shared since October, two months dancing around each other, two months pretending this isn’t what they both wanted.

The first time, Buck tasted like tequila and lime; the second, like whiskey; but tonight, Buck just tastes like…Buck. Eddie thinks it’s his favorite taste so far, maybe of all time. He’ll spend his whole life chasing it.

Buck’s hand shifts from his knee to his side, gripping Eddie’s shirt like it’s a lifeline. Eddie slides his hand to Buck’s neck, wrapping around the back of it, and Buck makes a small noise somewhere in his throat, and it hits Eddie square in the chest.

This isn’t a dream, it’s not some hazy memory. Buck is real and solid under his hand and against his lips, and Eddie doesn’t have to cling to it like it’ll slip away from him the moment he loosens up. This is his— theirs —forever.

They pull away when a car honks somewhere nearby, pulling them out of their bubble and bringing them back down to earth, reminding them that there are still people on the other side of Eddie’s wall waiting for them. They make no rush to get back to the party, though, resting their foreheads together while they catch their breath, electric currents under their skin.

“You—” Buck starts, cutting himself off with a huff of a laugh, his mouth stretched in a grin. “You said you love me.”

Eddie swallows and grins, nodding gently. “Yeah, I did. I do. You don’t have to—”

“Fuck off, I love you too. So much.”

“Yeah?”

“Eddie,” Buck pulls away then, looking at Eddie and—he’s got tears in his eyes, which makes Eddie’s eyes water up. He wants to laugh, but Buck is looking at him so earnestly that all he can do is stare back and wait for Buck to speak again.

“Eddie,” Buck says again, shaking his head. “You have to know I love you. You’ve given me everything, you and Christopher, this family, a partner. I—I didn’t think that I could ask you for this too. I didn’t…I didn’t want to be selfish or too needy but—Eddie.”

“Buck,” Eddie reaches out with his other hand to hold Buck’s face in his hands. “You could never be too much for me, you could never ask me for too much. There’s so much…so much I couldn’t have done without you. And I’m…really sorry I went about this the wrong way—”

“You’re not—” Buck pulls back from Eddie’s hands and tilts his head. “You’re not about to apologize for having sex with me, right? Because, and I know you remember this, I really fucking enjoyed it.”

“No, I’m not—” Eddie starts but breaks off with a laugh. “I’m not—not really—I just, I’m sorry that we took this weird…roundabout way of getting here…and I made the last few months so difficult for no reason.”

Buck looks at him seriously, eyes wide. “Eddie, I’d go anywhere with you. I don’t care how long it took, what it took, we’re—we’re here now. Together. That’s all that matters.”

“I love you,” Eddie says, because he can. It makes Buck’s smile widen, his eyes crinkling in a way they haven’t in months, and Eddie feels himself getting more and more obsessed.

“Mm…I could get used to you saying that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…say it again.”

“I love you.”

“God, it’s crazy, I’ve got chills—”

And Eddie kisses him again. Because he can. He pulls Buck closer to him, winding his fingers into his curls and tugging slightly. Buck’s mouth drops open against his and a small, desperate sound spills into Eddie’s mouth and he swallows it.

“I like you like this,” Buck says eventually, pulling away because neither of them can stop grinning, laughing. Eddie smiles at him, cheeks flushed.

“Like what?”

“Happy,” Buck shrugs, patting the side of Eddie’s face with his hand and then just—leaving it there, holding him. “Smiling.”

“I smile,” Eddie says, dipping his fingers under the hem of Buck’s sweater and running them softly along the small of his back. Buck shivers.

“Yeah, but not like this.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulling Buck back in, tilting their heads so that he can slide his tongue into Buck’s mouth. Buck makes an appreciative noise, getting lost in the movements before pulling back again, laughing as Eddie makes a disappointed noise and chases his lips..

He bites back a grin and looks down at Eddie, squinting his eyes a little like he’s studying him. Eddie squirms under the attention.

“What?”

“Nothing…nothing,” Buck says, dropping his hand and resting it on the crook of Eddie’s neck, running a thumb up and down his throat. Eddie shivers a little, and Buck grins. “Just imagining what you would look like with a few hickeys here…what it would be like if you walked around the station with them and everyone knew they were from me.”

Eddie gasps a little and Buck’s eyes flash before he’s leaning in some more, breath ghosting against Eddie’s skin.

“I think we should find out,” He murmurs and Eddie just pulls him closer.

He doesn’t care about the shit he’s going to get from everyone in the station, or the look Bobby will give him as he calls them in to fill out extra paperwork, or how he’s going to cover it all up around his too smart for his own good kid.

None of it matters. It’s all worth it for Buck.