Archive of Our Own

It starts on a call. 

They're at the scene of a car collision on Jefferson and Overland. Luckily, no one is terribly injured, but a woman who was in the crash has signs of a concussion so they load her into the ambulance carefully.

“Hm,” she says, a loopy grin on her face when she looks at Buck. “You’re, like, so hot, did you know that?”

He’s too used to come-ons to react with surprise, but that doesn’t stop the blush from warming his face. In the background, Chimney laughs.

“Oh, uh, sorry ma’am,” Buck starts, but quiets when the woman groans, over exaggerated.

“Don’t even,” she says, slightly slurred. “I should’ve known you’d be taken, you’re so hot. Like, your girlfriend is super lucky.”

“Well,” Buck says. His gaze flickers to Eddie automatically. He’s about to correct her, tell her that he actually has a boyfriend and he’s the lucky one, thank you very much-

But he turns his head and Eddie’s eyebrows are raised with a clean type of surprise, nothing offended or embarrassed about it. Pink is crawling up his neck, onto his cheeks. A sliver of heat squirms in Buck’s stomach. Immediately, he wants to tease.

So, Buck returns his attention to the woman with a grin. “I think I'm the lucky one,” he says, “‘cause my girlfriend is amazing.”

He leaves the woman in Hen’s very capable hands, stepping back contentedly. Then, like a compass needle always returning north, he looks for Eddie.

It’s not a difficult search. In fact, Eddie hasn’t moved since the last time he checked, completely frozen in place.

Reality crashes into Buck and suddenly he feels like an idiot. He walks up to Eddie, voice hushed.

“Hey, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Buck says, urgent. “I was just making a dumb joke, I didn’t mean to…” 

Eddie, still pink, avoids his stare. He clears his throat, says, “It’s fine, Buck, it didn’t bother me.”

“It didn’t?” Buck says dumbly. He searches Eddie’s face for some sort of explanation that doesn’t include the obvious, continuing, “But then, why are you-” 

Then it hits him. The expression on Eddie’s face is a familiar one, it just took him a second to place it; he’s turned on. All wide-eyed and hushed.

“Oh,” Buck says, stunned. 

Glaring, Eddie finally looks at him. “Shut up,” he says.

Buck raises his hands placatingly. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Yeah, but you’re thinking it,” Eddie says, knowing.

Buck opens his mouth to retort, then takes in the fact that they’re standing in the middle of the street, a stray piece of a car’s bumper only a foot away from them. They’re still on the job. 

“I promise I’m not judging you,” he says, “but we are on the clock right now. Can we talk about this when we get home?”

“There’s nothing I want to talk about,” Eddie says. But he looks softer than he did a moment before, less spooked.

Buck shrugs. He tries to stay casual but something close to excitement bubbles up in the hollow of his throat. That feeling right when he latches onto some new topic or thing to deep dive into. Eddie isn’t a hyperfixation, he’s much more permanent than that, but the way he focuses so entirely is similar. “Maybe, but I think there might be something I want to talk about,” he says. “Just something to consider.”

There’s a long hesitation, then Eddie nods. “If you really want to,” he says dubiously. 

Buck is about to reassure him that they don’t have to talk about anything if he actually does feel uncomfortable, but Chimney pokes his head out of the ambulance impatiently.

“No eyefucking on the job, sickos,” he says with a grin.

“Hey!” Buck frowns. “That’s not-” 

“Let’s hurry along, folks,” Bobby cuts him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Chim, let’s try and keep things professional, okay?”

“Sir yessir,” Chimney says while playfully saluting.

Eddie doesn’t add to the conversation, but when he slips past Buck to the firetruck, he gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

—

Buck spends the final eight hours of their shift turning over the moment he’s started to call the Girlfriend Moment in his head. How cute Eddie looked, surprised and kind of turned on. The way thinking of Eddie like that, calling him his girlfriend, caused attraction to flare in his stomach.

For the first few hours, he feels horribly guilty. Sure, in the moment, it felt like it was an okay thing to say, but Eddie only just navigated his way out of the comphet-closet. That’s not an easy thing to do, which Buck would know— even if his late coming out was mostly just the product of his own embarrassing obliviousness. 

Buck just doesn’t want Eddie to think that he isn’t proud of him. That he wants him to be someone else. Especially if that someone else is a woman, which Eddie would have no way to live up to. 

Buck used to get up to a lot of stuff, sex-wise, so he’s pretty familiar with a variety of kinks. As a bit of a people pleaser, he was generally up for whatever his partner wanted. Before realizing he was also into dudes, he was mostly certain he’d done as close to everything as one could get without breaking any laws. Then, he realized there was a whole world of sex he’d never even dipped his toes into. 

But being with Tommy didn’t really give him much to work with. Sure, the man had his kinks, but he still had a lot of sexuality-related holdups despite being out for years at that point. Of course, even with that, it’s totally fine to have sexual preferences. Tommy didn’t like giving blowjobs, which is super fair. It isn’t like it’s Buck’s favorite thing either. But he’s learned that a really important part of relationships is compromise. That led to him making a lot of concessions which Tommy mostly just accepted and didn’t try to reciprocate.

In any case, he thinks he’s got a good handle on the concept of kinks. There’s just a lot of things that don’t really come up when you’re hooking up with a woman because the parts they have are (generally) pretty different from what a guy’s got going on. Feminization hasn’t ever really been a thing for Buck, because in the past it hasn’t been special to refer to his partners with feminine terms.

This thing with Eddie is different by default, which garners a need for self-reflection. Buck knows, though, that he’s very happy having a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend. It doesn’t bother him to be in a gay relationship, and he doesn’t actually want Eddie to be a girl or anything. It’s just…something that makes him horny to think about. It doesn’t need to be deeper than that.

Of course, if Eddie isn’t actually into it, that’s totally fine. Buck doesn’t personally like the idea of being called a girl, so he would never fault his boyfriend for feeling the same. But, if he makes it clear to Eddie that there isn’t anything deeper going on here, and he’s up for the whole thing? 

Anticipation crawls into the pit of his stomach and latches on tightly to the lining.

—

“Okay,” Buck says immediately when they get home, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. “I just want to start by saying that I love you so much, and that includes you being a man.” He shrugs off his cardigan, a hand ruffling through his curls.

“Buck, what are you-”

He continues, “Like, I’m super bisexual and proud of it. Big fan of dick over here. This isn’t a weird pseudo-straight thing, I swear, it’s just a kink. Which is a very normal thing for someone to have. I don’t wish you were a woman or anything.” 

He turns around to face Eddie, who is slack-jawed and gaping. “Jesus christ, Buck,” he says. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

Buck plucks their bag of groceries out of Eddie’s lax grip and begins to unpack. There’s a long pause. “I, uh, think that I might’ve thought we were on a different page than we are,” he says finally, awkward. 

“You don’t wish I were a woman?” Eddie says it like he’s half-choking on something. “How would I even- why would I think that?”

“You know, um, that joke I made early,” Buck says. “When I called you my girlfriend.”

“It was just a joke, though,” Eddie stresses. “I wouldn’t just assume you actually meant anything by it. That’d be ridiculous. No one would ever look at me and see a woman.”

“Right,” Buck says readily. He takes out the zucchini and places it in the vegetable drawer of the fridge. “No, exactly. I’m glad you know that, I just wanted to make it totally clear that I love you just the way you are.”

Eddie digs around in the grocery bag Buck is holding in one arm, grabbing the ice cream cartons from the bottom to be stowed in the freezer. “Have you really been getting worked up about that joke the whole shift?” Eddie asks, an edge of amusement leaking subtly into his tone.

“Well, not just that,” Buck says, letting his voice drop into a lower register.

Eddie looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Now, what the hell does that mean?”

“I think I’ve had a big day for self discovery,” Buck says easily. “I don’t know if you caught it, but I mentioned kinks a second ago. Think I might be kind of into feminization.”

Eddie isn’t really used to talking about sex stuff candidly. Buck is well aware of this, so he isn’t surprised when Eddie takes one of the ice cream cartons and presses it against his rapidly reddening face. “Okay, that’s, um. Like, you want me to pretend you’re a girl during sex or something?”

“Not exactly,” Buck says. He steps forward, getting into Eddie’s space. “I was, uh, kinda hoping it might be the other way around?”

“Oh,” Eddie says, big brown eyes as wide as Buck’s ever seen them. 

“Would you like that, sweetheart?” Buck pushes further, getting close enough to feel Eddie’s little cut-off gasp when he murmurs, “Wanna be my good girl?”

Eddie makes a strained sound, something animal and almost pained. “Buck,” he says desperately, but doesn’t continue. He grips onto Buck’s forearms tightly, nails digging crescents into the muscle and soft skin there.

Buck answers by stroking a hand against Eddie’s cheek, gentle and calming. “Hey, let’s take a second,” he says. “Um, I am really into this and I’m glad you are, too. I just want to make things totally clear, for my own peace of mind. You know this isn’t anything to do with me wanting you to be someone you’re not, right? It’s just a kink thing.”

Eddie leans his body towards Buck until his forehead is resting on his shoulder. Buck, unable to stop himself, wraps his arms around his boyfriend, bringing him even closer. 

“Yeah, I know,” Eddie says, muffled by where he’s flattening himself into the crook of Buck’s neck. It turns the cadence of his voice into something vacant and resigned. “It’s about sex, not anything else. You want me like I already am.”

“You’re damn straight I do,” Buck says. He kisses the top of Eddie’s head.

—

Neither of them mention it for the next few weeks, but it’s on Buck’s mind constantly. The issue is that they’re horrendously busy. It’s the end of the school year which means Chris is constantly needing them to help him with homework or drive him to some sort of event or review his English final. And in a stroke of bad luck, every single shift has been call after call. 

“Hey, Hen,” Buck says, sliding up next to her before she leaves after a shift. “How’s Karen been doing?”

“Did you really just ‘how’s the wife’ me?” Hen asks. She jabs her elbow at Buck’s ribs.

“I just wanted to check in with you guys,” Buck says while dodging the halfhearted blows. “I can’t imagine how difficult it is to find time for each other with so many kids in the house, you know?”

Hen pauses, a considering tilt to her head. “Are you up to something?” She narrows her eyes.

“What? Not really,” Buck says.

“You are definitely up to something,” Hen says. “What is it?”

“Look, I have a favor to ask you,” Buck says a bit sheepishly. “Or maybe more like a deal.”

“That’s ominous.”

“How about you let me and Eddie take Denny and Mara so you guys can have a date night?” Buck says. “Wouldn’t you guys like a night off?”

“I mean, that sounds amazing,” Hen says. “I love the kids, but it’s hard to focus on each other when they’re around.”

Buck nods. “Yeah, I think I kind of get what you mean.” Even if he’d never call himself Chris’ dad, he still loves that kid more than anything. But when it comes down to it, a teenage boy is startlingly high maintenance. “So, we watch Denny and Mara, and then…?”

“You want us to take Chris sometime?” Hen asks.

“Yes, exactly,” Buck says. “See, I’m- barely up to something, if at all. I just want some alone time with Eddie.”

Hen gives him a teasing grin. “Alone time, huh?”

Buck goes a little red, since in truth, this really is just about Buck wanting to try out a sex thing without worrying about Chris having some sort of emergency issue that needs dealing with. He’s generally a shameless guy, but it’s not even like he’s taking his boyfriend out on a nice date or something. He just wants to call him names without anyone there to hear. 

Brain immediately conjuring various images of Eddie in compromising positions, Buck clears his throat. “Uh, yep. We’re going to, um, watch a…game?” he says, flustered despite himself. 

“Sure you are, buddy,” Hen says. She pats his shoulder. “Have fun with whatever weird thing you’re planning.”

“It’s not weird!” Buck shouts after her.

Hen, laughing, says, “I’ll text you the time to pick up Denny and Mara!”

—

A week later, Chris has been picked up from school by Karen and Buck is in the kitchen cooking dinner. Eddie keeps coming in and trying to help, but Buck brushes him off with a smile.

“I want to treat you nice, sweetheart,” he says with a syrupy smile.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but is indulgent regardless. “Fine,” he says, “I won’t help, but I’m not leaving.”

“Clingy,” Buck chides.

“You’re certainly one to talk,” Eddie says, then nudges Buck with his shoulder.

“Careful,” Buck says, keeping his eyes on the stove. “This sauce needs really careful attention or it’ll burn in the pan. Lean on my other side.”

“Maybe I'm the one who needs really careful attention,” Eddie says, teasing. He still ends up going around and draping himself over Buck’s left side so his right arm is free for stirring. “You’re so warm,” he says, murmuring.

“Thanks, I try.” Buck leans his head slightly so his ear is pressed against Eddie’s hair. 

They chat idly while he cooks, Eddie clearly doing his absolute best to be distracting. Or maybe Buck is just a little obsessed. It’s hard to tell.

It’s just Eddie looks absolutely perfect right now. He always looks good, obviously, but this is Buck’s favorite. At home when it’s just the two of them.

Eddie’s cheeks are slightly pink in the low lighting, big brown eyes wide and glittering. The gel he usually adds to his hair is long gone, leaving it fluffy and soft, and he drapes himself all over Buck like a particularly affectionate cat.

Like this, Eddie is soft.

Buck feels a sense of deep satisfaction while they eat dinner, watching Eddie smile and ask for seconds. His whole life he’s been an afterthought. To his parents, his partners, it feels like everyone. 

Now, though, he knows for a fact that Eddie thinks of him differently. And he knows it’s kind of messed up, but there’s something in him that’s endlessly pleased that Eddie relies on him. Needs him.

“You look so pretty right now,” Buck says, unable to temper the starstruck tone of his voice.

Eddie, mid-bite, chokes on a laugh. “Uh, thank you?”

Buck gives him a sly grin. “Pretty girl. I can’t wait to get under your skirt.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, scandalized. “That’s- we’re eating.”

“I can think of something else I’d like to-”

“Okay,” Eddie cuts him off. There’s a blush blooming like a sunrise on his face. “Jesus, let’s just finish dinner first, alright? One thing at a time.”

Buck makes a pouting face. “Fine,” he says, long and drawn out.

—

Eddie makes a half-aborted gasp when Buck shoves him into their bedroom door, nosing at the cut of his jaw.

“Mmf,” Eddie says, “get up here.” Then he takes Buck’s face with both hands and urges their lips together. 

They stand in the doorway for a long time, Buck pushing Eddie into the wall with his full weight. They kiss, hot and open-mouthed until his lips feel raw.

Eddie sighs when Buck returns to his neck, nipping right below his ear where he knows Eddie is sensitive.

“You’re being so good for me,” Buck says.

Eddie tilts his head until he’s leaning back against the wall, jugular exposed by the arch of his neck. “You made me dinner,” he says.

“I always make you dinner,” Buck says, amused.

Buck has too many favorite things about Eddie to count. But one of them, undeniably, is the way he turns pink and honeyed at the slightest hint of pleasure.

Already looking half-fucked out, Eddie bites his lip, face searching. He asks, “Were you treating this like a first date?” 

Buck buries his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, taking in his scent and the slight stickiness of his sweat. “Maybe,” he says, “I was just trying to treat my girl right.”

It’s only because they’re so entangled that Buck feels the way Eddie shudders at his words, harsh and instinctive. Heat, which has already been languidly collecting in the pit of his stomach, flares hot and bright. 

“Fuck,” Buck says, “you’re so hot.”

“Buck.” The words tumble out of Eddie clumsily. “Just- kiss me.”

“I’ll do you one better,” he says.

Then, he’s opening the door behind Eddie and pulling them into the bedroom. 

Buck is always his most efficient when he has a goal. It takes less than a minute before he’s got Eddie down to his underwear and splayed across their cotton sheets.

Eddie tries to sit up, but Buck puts a hand on his chest and presses him back into the mattress. He lets the hand trail down the planes of Eddie’s pecs and stomach, reaching to cup him in his boxers.

“Shit,” Eddie bites out, hips twitching up at the gentle palming. He tries to move up onto his elbows, hands reaching towards Buck’s.

“Shh,” Buck says like he’s gentling a spooked horse. “I’ve got you. Just sit back and relax, let me take care of you.”

Eddie’s teeth make a white imprint on his bruised lips. After a moment, he says, “…Okay.”

“That’s my girl,” Buck says, unable to help himself. The reaction his words receive is too intoxicating to pass up.

Eddie jerks forward into Buck’s loose grasp, a little desperate. Buck gives a tender kiss to the jut of his hip and holds him down firmly.

“I’m gonna eat you out,” he says from between Eddie’s legs. He taps the head of his cock with two fingers, grins at the sound it pulls from his boyfriend’s throat. “Gonna play with your clit till you’re begging me to fuck you.”

Eddie’s hands form white-knuckled fists in their bedsheets. An unintelligible noise spills from his mouth.

Buck pulls down Eddie’s boxers and his cock slaps against his abdomen. The tip is sticky with precum, shining in the dim light.

He’s been trying to play it cool but his face feels so hot it should be glowing. Eddie is a portrait of incandescence under him, flushed pink and shiny with sweat. A single strand of hair is flopping into his face and his pupils are blown out. Dick already weeping so messily between them, at the barest touch.

“Good girl,” Buck says, rasping and low. “You’re already so wet for me.”

Eddie makes a sound like a sob. “Fuck, please,” he says. “I can’t- just touch me, alright, please don’t make me-”

Buck doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. Instead he ducks down to finally get his mouth around Eddie, lips stretching around heated flesh. Miraculously, Eddie manages to keep his hips stilled, his entire body tense like a livewire. 

Buck sucks softly, tongue pressing up against the head. He kisses down the length of him, messy and wet. 

When Eddie takes one of his hands and bites down on his own fist, Buck replaces his mouth with a slow up and down of his fist so he can speak.

“Don’t do that,” he tells Eddie. “Let me hear you.”

Eddie has a strained look on his face, eyebrows pinched. He doesn’t lower his hand, body a long line of tension.

“Hey,” Buck says, less aggressively. “You know I love it when you get loud.”

Eddie murmurs something, too quiet and muffled to make out.

“Sorry, what was that?” Buck asks.

“My voice,” Eddie says, hushed. “It’s, um, too deep. When I get loud.” 

Buck pauses. “Too deep? Why would it- oh.”

He’s saying his voice is too masculine. 

“Eddie,” Buck says. “Sweetheart, I love your moans, okay? They let me know you’re having a good time.”

“But-”

“No,” he says firmly. Hesitates for just a moment, then, “I promise you’re my girl, no matter what.”

Eddie’s lower lip is trembling when he puts down his arm. There’s an indent of his teeth in the first joint above the knuckles from where he was trying to stay quiet. 

“Promise?” he asks.

Buck’s heart squeezes in his chest. “Of course,” he says earnestly. “Always, Eddie, I swear.”

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice is thick with some emotion beyond lust that he can’t name.

Buck surges forward, kisses Eddie soundly, swallows every gorgeous sound directly from the source. Suddenly, he’s ravenous. He wanted to take his time, get Eddie all worked up, but he can’t wait any longer.

Slightly fumbling, unable to pull himself away from Eddie’s perfect mouth, he gets the lube out of the drawer next to the bed with one hand.

The click of the cap opening makes Eddie whine. “Please,” he says, then again. “Please, want you in me, want you to fuck me.”

“Shit, yes, okay,” Buck gasps. Eddie attaches himself to his neck while he pours some slick onto his fingers, warming it up a bit distractedly.

It doesn’t take long after that. Eddie’s body is loose with arousal, welcoming and searing hot. When Buck sinks into him, they both moan.

“I can feel you squeezing around me,” Buck says, voice cracking slightly. “Your- your pussy is so tight.”

Eddie clings onto his shoulders, blunt nails dragging down his back. It stings and his hips jerks forward, grinding into Eddie’s wet hole.

“Shit,” Eddie gasps out, squeezing around him. “That’s- hnng-”

Buck hitches Eddie’s legs higher around his waist, his fingers making imprints in his thighs. He knows they’ll probably bruise but he can’t bring himself to care; that feral, animal thing inside of him is too close to the surface for the thought to bring anything but the feeling of deep satisfaction. 

He wants everyone to know that Eddie belongs to him, that they belong to each other, that Eddie is his girl.

“I, uh, forgot a condom,” Buck says.

“Huh?” A slight pinch between Eddie’s eyebrows belies his confusion. His voice is blurry with pleasure, mind clearly hazy when he asks, “But you never-? We haven’t used condoms since, like, our first time?”

Buck leans into him, wanting as many points of contact as possible. Eddie is all relaxed limbs and melting heat, head tilted back from the feeling of Buck inside him. His mouth is red from how much he’s biting his lips, neck all marked up. 

Buck licks a long stripe up Eddie’s neck, starving for every scrap of him he can get. 

Breathing in Eddie’s sweat, nosing at his hairline just below his ear, Buck murmurs, “I should’ve used protection, right? Wouldn’t want you to get pregnant.”

Immediately, Eddie’s insides seize around him like he’s been electrocuted.

“I’m-” Eddie says, high pitched, but stops short. Buck waits a moment to see if he says anything else, but instead he just feels his dick twitching messily in between their stomachs. 

“Or maybe,” Buck says slowly, continuing, “you wanted this to happen.”

“Buck, please.” Eddie begs like he’s not entirely sure what he’s even asking for.

Buck looks at him, hot as a fever. “Say it.” 

He pulls back to stare at the muddied thought process developing behind Eddie’s eyes, the conflict playing out so clearly behind them. He’s always been easy to read, emotions so blatantly illustrated by the pout of his mouth and slant of his big eyes. Eyes which, right now, are swallowed almost entirely with black. Buck isn’t sure if he’s seen Eddie this affected by something before. It’s intoxicating. 

“Say what?” Eddie asks, voice dry.

“Tell me you want me to knock you up, baby,” Buck says, as sweetly as he can. He peppers kisses up Eddie’s neck to his face, resting against his temple. He’s close enough to feel the soft warmth of Eddie’s breath. “Be honest with yourself.”

Buck doesn’t see it so much as feel it when Eddie’s lower lip starts to tremble. It seems to spread almost immediately, thighs and shoulders and chest beginning to shake. “I- I can’t,” he says. Repeats himself, fists clenching, “I can’t.”

Buck takes one of Eddie’s hands and unfurls it, positions it to be laying flat across his stomach, palm lying just below the solar plexus. “You can,” he says. 

He watches in almost slow motion as Eddie gives in, entranced at the picture he presents. “I want- want you to knock me up,” he says, gasping. “Fuck, please, make me- make me your girl, fuck it into me, make me cum, Buck.”

And then Buck can’t hold back any longer, thrusting forward so hard Eddie gets pushed up into the pillows. His thighs press tight against Buck’s sides, hips moving back to meet every motion helplessly.

A tear tracks its way across Eddie’s temple and slides into the pillow he’s pushing his face into. He moans, loud and breathy, and on the exhale more liquid leaks from his eyes to follow the same trail.

Air stolen from his chest, Buck looks in awe as Eddie begins to fall apart. 

The symptoms have been coming on slowly enough that it’s very difficult to catch. Eddie always tries his best to be perfectly put-together, even when they’re so intimately connected. Buck doesn’t take offense; he knows that Eddie trusts him with his life and it’s just a well ingrained habit that’s impossible to break without time and effort.

What it means right now, though, is that Buck has the privilege of observing what it’s like for Eddie’s walls to break down in real time. It started with the shaking, the slight tremors wracking through his entire body. The husky pitch of his voice and wide-eyed gaze. Everything about him starts to dissolve, to relax just enough for Buck to realize just how tense he normally is.

Then, there’s the slight drawback. He never goes down easy, fights it until the very last second. Here, they are at the last second. The precipice of release.

Eddie whines when Buck slows down, turning the forceful movements into a smooth, dirty grind— the kind that hits his prostate perfectly and refuses to let up the pressure. His voice breaks. The drizzle of tears becomes a downpour, becomes a shuddering sob.

Buck doesn’t let up. He kisses Eddie gently, licks up his tears with a desperate and obsessed edge. He loves Eddie like this. More than that, he simply loves Eddie. 

“I love you,” Buck says.

Eddie is too far gone to reply with anything but another moan torn straight from his chest. 

“You’re so pretty like this, so beautiful.” Buck puts a hand to Eddie’s cheek, panting. He moves a strand of hair out of Eddie’s red-rimmed eyes, a gentle contrast to the relentless working of his hips. He says, reverently, “My girl. Mine.”

At those words, Eddie’s eyes roll back into his head. His entire body arches into Buck’s grasp, hole going impossibly tight. With a strangled moan, he comes completely untouched.

“Shit,” Buck hisses, and goes tumbling off the edge with his own release only moments later at the sight. He moans, only barely able to stop himself from collapsing on top of Eddie. Clumsily, he reaches a hand between them and works Eddie through the last of his orgasm, until he’s shivering with sensitivity. 

“Oh my god,” Eddie says in the aftermath, slightly slurred. “Um.”

“That was amazing.” Buck rolls off of him, back twinging a bit at the strain he just put on his body.

“Um,” Eddie repeats wetly. His pulse is pounding so hard Buck can see it fluttering in the hollow of his throat. He hasn’t stopped crying.

“Hey, Eddie?” Buck asks, sitting up. He’s suddenly a bit concerned. “Was that-?”

Eddie cuts him off by pressing his body into Buck’s, tucking himself into his chest almost desperately. “Don’t,” he says. “Please.”

“Okay,” Buck says. He hesitates for only a moment before wrapping his arms across Eddie’s back and bringing him in even closer, pressing his nose to the top of his head. “I’ve got you,” he says. No matter what, he’s there for Eddie. Even if he doesn’t totally understand and still feels about as wobbly as a newborn deer after that mind blowing orgasm.

Eddie is dead silent, the complete and utter lack of verbal communication a stark contrast to the way his body heaves almost violently against Buck’s. He cries for long enough that Buck gives up on trying to keep track. He rubs a soothing hand against Eddie’s back and pushes down the worry that he’s at fault for the tears dampening his bare skin.

After a while, Eddie seems to calm down. Buck leaves briefly to get a towel and clean them both up, and then he goes back to holding his boyfriend.

“Hey,” Buck shifts, a bit unsure, “is everything okay? That was, uh, intense.”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. His voice is set low in his register and he doesn’t make eye contact. He sounds ashamed.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean- it wasn’t too intense, I promise. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

There’s a moment of hesitation. Eddie’s emotions are already back to being locked up tight in the tension he carries throughout his entire body. There’s a discomfort there that never seems to go away, that Buck despairs at not knowing how to alleviate. Finally, he says, “I’m okay. I promise. It’s just- you’re right, it was intense, and I needed a second to calm down.”

“Whatever you need,” Buck promises.

Eddie nods into Buck’s collarbone. They hold onto each other until he can’t fight the pull on his eyelids. He drifts off like a kite floating in the wind, returning slowly back to soft earth.

—

The next day, Buck startles awake. He can’t remember anything about the dream he had except the sensation of falling, as if he’d slipped off of a skyscraper into free air. His mouth is dry in a way that tells him he must’ve been drooling, and he feels a bone-deep contentment. The type that almost always comes after having slept with Eddie.

Speaking of, he isn’t sure where Eddie is. There aren’t any telling sounds originating from the kitchen or the shower. When he places a palm against the other side of the bed, it’s cool to the touch. Somehow, Buck completely slept through Eddie waking up and getting out of bed. He’s always been a particularly light sleeper, so he must’ve been really knocked out from last night.

A strand of concern worms its way into his stomach and starts tangling itself up in knots there. Last night was…a lot. For both of them, but Eddie in particular. The fact that he isn’t here to cuddle like he usually is after things get especially vulnerable is worrying.

Buck rubs the sleep out of his eyes, smoothing his curls away from his forehead. When he checks the time, it’s only seven in the morning. He frowns. 

The bathroom is empty while he relieves himself impatiently, which isn’t surprising but doesn’t help curb the slowly rising panic. Maybe he’s overreacting, being crazy. But last night was the first time they’ve ever tried something like that, and it felt undeniably different. He isn’t sure how, but everything about it was a little strange, now that he’s reflecting on it. Eddie seemed into it, but he was also strangely withdrawn. A little resigned, even.

Was Eddie only doing it to appease him? Did he actually hate it? Is that why he cried so much? Shoot, Buck has really messed things up.

He washes his hands as quickly as possible, before he’s rushing down the hallway into the kitchen. Eddie isn’t there. He is, it is becoming quite apparent, not anywhere in the house. 

This reality is cemented when Buck finds a hastily scrawled note left on the counter in Eddie’s flowing penmanship. It reads Left for a run. Don’t freak out, which. Too late for that. He resists the urge to check Eddie’s location, which is something they both promised to only do in situations of actual emergency. Clearly, this isn’t an emergency. It’s still worrying, though. Eddie wouldn’t leave without waking him up unless something was in some way wrong. The note is helpful because it means he wasn’t kidnapped or anything, but they’re not the type of couple that needs space. Especially after sharing insanely good sex.

Feeling jittery in the face of his sudden adrenaline spike, Buck takes a deep breath. Let go of what you can’t control, and all that. If Eddie is having a problem, they can talk about it. It’s going to be okay. He should focus on what he can actually have an impact on; if Eddie just went on a run, he’ll probably come back hungry. 

Determined, Buck ties the kiss the cook apron that Chris got him for Christmas as a gag gift around his waist and pulls out the carton of eggs. 

—

Eddie comes back around 20 minutes later. He doesn’t spot Buck immediately, instead opening and closing the door near silently, the only sound the soft click of the door being returned to its starting position. He’s panting slightly, hair matted with sweat. He’s wearing a tanktop so there aren’t any sweat stains, but he’s shining in the early morning sun. Buck has to look away before he does something insane like go up to him and try to lick the salt off of his skin.

“Hey, uh, good morning,” Buck says. The words are almost swallowed by the quiet of the moment; it feels out of place and comes out closer to a whisper than he’d meant it to.

Eddie starts, turning around. He brushes his hair away from where it was flopping damply into his face. “Oh,” he says. “Hi. Sorry, I didn’t really…”

“It’s fine!” Buck says, a little too loudly. “Everything’s good. I made omelets, but somehow I didn’t think about the fact you’d be coming back from a run. You should shower.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says a little awkwardly. Buck resists the urge to cringe at the stilted words falling out of him. “Thank you, um. I’m just gonna- okay.”

Then he’s turning around to march to their bedroom. After a few minutes, the sound of running water starts to be just barely audible through the multiple walls between them. Any other day, and Buck would’ve tried to join him, but he actually isn’t sure how that’d be received right now. Before they do anything else intimate, they need to talk and get on the same page. Buck doesn’t want to do things that make Eddie feel like he has to run away afterward. He wants to fix this before it becomes a problem. 

He lingers in the entryway for a few minutes, nervously brushing invisible specks of dust from all available surfaces before he gets sick of himself and hurries back to the kitchen. Pancakes go good with omelets, right? He’ll make some just in case. Besides, the omelets are getting kind of cold. Cold omelets suck. God, he’s thinking way too much about the omelets. 

With a mild franticness, he starts pulling out flour and milk. He forgoes measuring cups entirely, having made this recipe so many times he can get by perfectly fine with just feel. 

He’s about to take out the standing mixer when Eddie wanders into the kitchen doorway, towel slung low on his hips. Buck bites his cheek. Sue him for having a boyfriend that’s attractive to a point of distraction.

“Buck, I thought you said you already made breakfast?” Eddie scratches a hand through the thick hair trailing down his stomach. The cut of his hips is apparent from the way his towel is positioned. Buck has to recenter and remind himself they have an actually serious conversation to have; right now, he kind of just wants to get on his knees and say good morning to Eddie’s dick.

“I did!” Buck says, “I was just…going to make more breakfast. Why not? It’s the most important meal of the day, you know.”

Eddie gives him an indulgent smile, and Buck is a little taken aback by how casual he’s acting. It doesn’t seem like anything is wrong, despite the previous odd behavior. Eddie asks, “I thought you said that fact was a myth?”

“Well, it’s contested among experts,” Buck says automatically. “But, um, I was just- pancakes make everything better, you know?”

“There’s nothing to make better,” Eddie says and then, oh, no, he’s coming closer to wrap his arms around Buck’s neck and give him a long kiss. They part with a quiet smack. “You’re already perfect,” he finishes, voice barely a whisper.

Buck tries to stay on task, he really does. He swears it on his life.

Half an hour later, there’s two cold omelets sitting at the dining table, flour smudged across both of their faces, and Buck can’t for the life of him remember why exactly he was worried in the first place.

—

The next day, they have a shift. Buck wakes up before Eddie, like he usually does, and takes a moment just to stare at him, like he usually does. Eddie’s so relaxed like this, and when they first got together it was a revelation. Seeing him all sleep-soft first thing in the morning. The gentle slope of his mouth and scratchy rumble of his voice. Even the taste of his morning breath is kind of amazing.

Eddie has always been insanely guarded. There’s this shield he puts up, made up of small things like pitching his voice almost imperceptibly lower and pushing his shoulder back until his posture is ramrod straight. There’s more to it, but Buck knew about the emotional walls within a couple of months of knowing Eddie. The physical aspects of it are something he wasn’t as familiar with.

Every day, Eddie wakes up loose-limbed with fluffy hair and it’s the best thing to ever happen to Buck. What he doesn’t like as much, but still feels honored to be witness to, is the increasingly obvious procedure of putting on emotional layers one by one that Eddie can’t seem to stop. He has a whole routine, and by the end almost every speck of calm tranquility has vanished. It’s kind of heartbreaking.

Regardless, the moments before that happens are some of Buck’s favorites. He luxuriates in Eddie’s unguarded expression for as long as possible before he creeps himself out with the staring and goes to make breakfast.

They never did get around to making pancakes the other day, so now he wipes down the flour they never totally cleaned up from yesterday and sets about making the batter. Chris enters the kitchen, rubbing viciously at his eyes.

“Pancakes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something special today I didn’t know about?”

“There doesn’t need to be a reason for making pancakes, Chris.” Buck raises his spatula to test the consistency of the batter as it folds back into the bowl. “I just felt like it. Plus, it’s been a while.”

“I’m definitely not complaining,” Chris says. “The bus comes in fifteen minutes, though, so hurry up.”

Buck laughs. “Fine, fine. Go sit down.”

After a few minutes, Buck proudly sets down a stack of golden, fluffy pancakes in front of Chris. He drizzles syrup over the top and spreads a slab of butter over them. “Here you go, your highness.” He bows.

Chris rolls his eyes. “Thank you, peasant.” The smile he’s trying to repress for the sake of the bit ends up being incredibly apparent to Buck anyway. 

Like only a teenage boy can, Chris puts down the entire stack in about four minutes before he’s out the door. Buck is still grinning in the general direction of the bus stop, standing like a fool, when Eddie quietly pads into the hallway. His hair is slicked back with hair gel and he’s freshly shaven, the clench of his jaw that Buck thought was natural for years suddenly having made an appearance.

“Morning,” he says, subdued.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Buck says. He fails to resist the urge to try and comfort, going to sling an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and draw him close. Instead, the second his hand makes contact, Eddie’s back tenses.

He flinches. Like, actually, genuinely flinches when Buck touches him. 

Immediately, Buck draws back like he’s been burned. He bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything stupid and steps back multiple feet. He feels like his entire body was just plunged into teeth-achingly cold water.

“Um, pancakes,” he manages. He points to their bedroom, says, “Shower,” then flees.

—

So. Buck is back to spiraling. The only thing he’s done that could warrant such a reaction is the whole feminization thing. He knew they should’ve talked about it more, or made a list of dos and don'ts, or something. He can’t be the type of person that pressures his partner into sex. That’s horrible. He’s horrible, and Eddie hates him, and it’s all his fault.

Scrubbing the suds out of his hair, Buck resists the urge to bang his head into the wall. He feels like an idiot for letting himself believe everything was okay yesterday.

There’s only one solution. He needs to prove he can accept any and all boundaries Eddie has. He promises to himself that he won’t touch Eddie again until he initiates it, and that he won’t bring up feminization either, but it feels too easy. Like, it’s the absolute bare minimum to just…respect Eddie’s wishes. 

This is only happening because Buck thought it was a good idea to call his boyfriend a girl. Eddie’s been having to deal with complicated feelings toward men and masculinity his whole life. Buck should have been understanding of that context and let this whole thing go, instead of thinking with his dick. 

What he needs to do to make it up to Eddie is affirm his relationship to being a man. Demonstrate that he doesn’t actually think of Eddie as a girl.

A frantic sort of optimism blooms from the lump of dread in Buck’s throat. He knows how to make this right. He can fix this. 

The shower valve gives a squeak at the speed he turns off the water.

—   

The car ride to the 118 is a little tense, but it could be a lot worse. Eddie rambles for the first few minutes, complimenting Buck heavily on the pancakes he made before abruptly turning on the radio and going silent.

He stares out of the passenger side window at the grey Los Angeles streets, eyes flickering forward and back with the blur of passing traffic. 

Buck, desperately wanting to prove he can follow cues, remains quiet. He gives Eddie the space he clearly needs right now and acts as casually as possible, humming along absent-mindedly to the radio.

When they walk into the station, Bobby is talking with Chimney near one of the fire trucks. They both turn when Buck calls out a hello, and when they do, Chimney immediately frowns.

“Woah,” he says, then doesn’t elaborate.

Buck’s eyes narrow. “What’s that mean?” he asks, admittedly a little defensive. 

Chimney puts his hands up, exchanging a look with Bobby that he can't decipher. “Nothing, man. Good morning. Hen should be here with the coffee in a couple minutes.”

“Awesome,” Eddie says, voice just a little shrill.

Then, he’s speed-walking to the lockers, leaving Buck standing all alone. He schools his face from mildly broken-hearted to 100% normal just a few seconds too late. 

Chimney, ever perceptive, pats his shoulder on the way upstairs. “You guys are gonna be okay, buddy,” he says patronizingly.

“Nothing’s wrong!” Buck shouts up at him, but he sounds so clearly bothered it’s a moot point.

—

Throughout the day, Eddie keeps looking at him. They don’t talk much, other than to communicate information on a call, but he keeps catching Eddie’s lingering gaze. Just a moment of eye contact, and then he’s turning around or moving to the other side of the truck to say something to Hen.

It’s infuriating. It’s also really causing Buck’s willpower to waver because Eddie has this way of looking so utterly abandoned each time their eyes meet. And it’s not fair, because this is what he wanted! Buck is just trying to be a good partner.

Halfway through the shift, Buck starts throwing out compliments in hopes of fixing whatever is making Eddie look so upset.

“Your muscles looked super manly when you lifted up that car door,” Buck says, trying hard for casual and failing by a landslide.

Eddie’s face goes rigid and impassive. “Thanks,” he says apathetically.

Buck chews at his cheek with how poorly the interaction went. Something is wrong but he isn’t sure what. He wishes he could talk to Bobby, who always gives him the best advice, but that’s just not possible. There’s no way he’s talking about his sex life with his pseudo-father. More than that, there’s no way Eddie will ever forgive him for talking about their sex life with his pseudo-father.

“Hen, I’m so screwed,” Buck says despairingly, collapsing onto the couch next to her.

Without looking up from the book she’s paging through, she hums. “What did you do?”

Sighing, Buck tells her, “I messed things up with Eddie, I think. Like, really bad.”

“You guys are made for each other,” Hen says. “I love you, Buck, but you’re probably catastrophizing here.” 

“I just- I don’t know what to do,” Buck says. “I want to talk to Eddie about it, but he can barely stand to look at me right now. Did you know, this morning I tried to hug him and he literally flinched away from me!” He scrubs a hand across his face, suddenly feeling tired all the way down to his bones.

“He flinched?” Hen says, voice colored with surprise. “What did you even do?”

“I- well.” Buck pauses awkwardly.

Hen, finally, sets down her book. She looks at him dubiously. “...Is this a sex thing?”

Buck, bravely, does not allow himself to get flustered. He says, reluctantly, “Yeah, kind of. Well, I don’t know. It seemed fine, but I don’t know what else would’ve caused this.”

“This, as in, Eddie not wanting you to touch him?” Hen adjusts her glasses.

Buck shifts, leaning back until he can stare at the ceiling. “Pretty much.”

“You’re getting all of this because he flinched. Once.” Hen knocks her shoulder against his, a bit chastising. “Buck, you’re an adult. Literally just have a conversation. It hasn’t even been a whole day of you two fighting and it’s already unbearable.”

“We’re not fighting,” Buck says begrudgingly. He hates it, but Hen is right. There’s no advice in the world that’ll help him if he isn’t willing to actually talk it through. He’s just stuck because, really, he’s terrified that he’s right. If he never confronts Eddie, the tension between them could be caused by any number of things.

But if it turns out that he did truly cross a boundary? That Eddie doesn’t trust him anymore? It’d be excruciating. He doesn’t know what he’d do with himself.

It’s not fair to bring his drama to his workplace, and it isn’t fair to Eddie to avoid an actual conversation because of a childish fear. How was he ever going to actually follow through on his plan when he can barely string together a sentence in Eddie’s presence right now? Besides, he can’t make up imaginary boundaries just to prove he can follow them, because that’s not actually proving anything.

“You’re right,” Buck says, suddenly embarrassed at his own behavior. “Thanks.”

“Just let me read in peace, Buckley,” Hen says good naturedly.

—

Buck finishes off the rest of the shift with bated breath, running through a hundred different scripts for how to apologize in his head, drafting and redrafting obsessively. He actually pulls out his phone on the way to a call in Glendale, opening up the Notes app to jot down ideas.

It all boils down to essentially this: Buck messed up. He shouldn’t have pushed with the whole feminization thing and he’ll do his absolute best in the future not to pressure him into doing something like it ever again. No, trying isn’t enough. He swears it on his life. 

He attempts to communicate this in increasingly unhinged ways as the hours pass. First, it’s just the occasional compliment during a call to remind Eddie of his high regard from Buck’s perspective. Then, because Buck often struggles with moderation in pretty much all aspects of his life, it devolves. 

As he treats a long cut on the arm of a caller, he says, “Wow, he really is a man, huh?” while Eddie talks a young boy down from a panic attack.

The guy he’s taking care of, blonde with a long face, scrunches his face at Buck. “Huh?”

“Eddie,” Buck says, nodding in his partner’s general direction. “He’s super masculine right?”

“I…guess?” the guy says. He sounds baffled, which Buck honestly can’t fault him for.

Still, the words keep coming like an oil spill. “He’s my boyfriend, you know. We’re dating. Which means I like men. Which I do. A huge fan of-”

“Buck, stop. ” Eddie says it loudly, one of the only times he’s talked to him directly the entire shift. His tone of voice is sharp, a little exasperated. It’s how he sounds when he’s trying to appear put together but can’t help the way he’s fraying at the edges. He addresses the man, says “I’m sorry for his behavior, sir.”

“Sorry,” Buck echoes dumbly. He pats the guy’s shoulder. “You’re, uh, good to go. My bad.”

“It’s fine,” he says, but hurries to walk away which means it probably wasn’t.

Once again finding himself ashamed at his own behavior, he turns to Eddie to apologize, but he’s already moved to the next patient. There was a bicycle collision with a pedestrian, but luckily there were no injuries worse than a dislocated arm. Which, obviously is still a serious injury, but nothing Buck has to feel too torn up over. 

Bobby, who is somehow always lurking around when Buck makes a fool of himself, jogs the few dozen feet to make his way over to him. 

“Hey, Buck,” Bobby says. “Everything alright over here? That looked pretty tense.”

“Everything’s fine,” Buck says tiredly. “Just can’t seem to stop putting my foot in my mouth.”

“Happens to the best of us.” Bobby gives him a mildly lopsided smile. “You’ll make it up to him, kid. Don’t worry too much, alright?”

Buck scrubs a hand down his face. “Yeah, okay. I know.”

“Look, the shift is practically over. If you think it might help to send you two home early to figure things out, we can make do without you,” Bobby offers.

Buck blinks. “Really?”

“Ravi was begging for overtime just last week,” Bobby says easily. “Really. I love you guys but you’re only half as efficient if you’re not working together.”

“Thank you,” Buck says earnestly. “I appreciate this, like, so much.”

Bobby laughs. “Don’t thank me yet. This is you and Eddie’s first actual argument as a couple, right? That’s not a fun thing to go home to, take it from me.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Oh, trust me, it sucks,” Bobby says. His voice is fond, though, when he continues, “But it isn’t so bad. Not when you love each other.”

“I would tear my heart out of my chest and give it to him, if I could,” Buck says, entirely too honest.

Bobby, gracefully, does not call him an insane person. Instead, he puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes gently. “You’ll do just fine, then.”

—

Somehow, they don’t end up talking when they get home. Chris is there, for some reason awake at five in the morning, so Eddie begs off to put him to bed.

Buck thinks it should be fine. He feels bolstered by Bobby’s words. He knows for a fact that he loves Eddie more than anything, and he’s not going to let this be something they can’t move past. Sure, he messed up, but the way to fix a miscommunication isn’t to stop talking entirely. 

He spits a frothy mouthful of toothpaste out into the sink, watches as it slides slowly down to the drain before he turns on the tap and it disappears in a flood of water. 

Eddie is already in bed, barely more than a lump of person hidden under the covers. His back is turned away, so Buck decides to do the same. He slips under the sheets and rolls onto his side, stares at the closed door in front of him.

Light just barely peaks in from the other side, a distant ray of sun, but it doesn’t reach him before he slips into sleep.

—

Buck tries to talk to Eddie the next day, but gets shut down so artfully he doesn’t even realize it until they’re sitting side by side on the couch, about halfway through a David Attenborough documentary.

A few days pass like this, Buck trying his best to start an actual conversation and inevitably failing. Eddie knows how to distract him far too well. The most strange thing is he acts like there’s nothing to discuss to begin with. Like nothing happened at all.

Buck can’t just let it go, though. He doesn’t want to be the type of guy to brush mistakes under the rug and ignore the weird lump they make until it’s too late. Eddie loves to ignore problems, but it just means they fester within him until there’s some sort of explosion or breaking point. 

Buck doesn’t want that to happen. He wants Eddie to feel like he can talk to him.

Trying to give Eddie space, since he clearly is refusing to talk, Buck tries his best to demonstrate his boundary-following abilities. He doesn’t initiate touch without asking, follows Eddie’s lead when it comes to going to bed.

It doesn’t come without a toll, though. Want churns in the hollow of his rib cage almost painfully every time Eddie so much as brushes his shoulder. He’s always been a bit overbearing in relationships. He craves physical touch, the way it grounds him and gives tangible evidence to the love he has for someone. And he’s never loved someone as much as Eddie, so trying to be polite is practically torture.

A week passes like this before Eddie corners him, wild-eyed.

They’re in the entryway taking off their shoes, and then Buck finds himself with his back to the wall. This close, Eddie looks tired, his face slightly sunken and smudges below the eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Eddie says. “I- I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“What?” Buck says, body slack with surprise. Eddie’s hand is gently pressing his shoulder to the plaster behind him. A spot of cold radiating outward.

“I know I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up about it,” Eddie says, distressed. “Just tell me how to fix it.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, pained. “I have literally no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you’re angry at me,” he says with exasperation. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder for days, and I-”

“Wait, hold on,” Buck says slowly. “That’s not true.”

“You barely look at me,” Eddie says. He kisses his teeth, eyes suddenly wet. “You barely even look at me,” he repeats.

Panic starts to swell in the space between Buck’s lungs. “No, wait. What? You’re the one who started it!” he says. “You’re the one who flinched when I touched you.”

“That wasn’t- I didn’t mean to do that,” Eddie says.

“I know,” Buck tells him. “Which means I did something bad enough to make you flinch.”

“I didn’t-”

Buck barrels on, before he can miss his chance, “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I never should’ve pressured you into the whole feminization thing, I should’ve realized how horrible something like that would be for you.”

Something despairing takes over Eddie’s expression. He looks like he’s in pain, face scrunching up before he can temper the intensity of emotion there. 

“I didn’t mean to cause you this much pain,” Buck continues, impassioned. “I promise you that I won’t ever bring it up, you’ll never have to hear a single word from me about it again.”

“No.” Eddie says it like the word is wrenched out of him.

It stops Buck short.

“Sorry,” Eddie says. He breathes out. On the exhale, he tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “I just mean, that wasn’t the problem.”

“It wasn’t?” Buck asks.

Eddie shakes his head, lips pursed. “I…liked it.”

Buck frowns. “Then what was the problem? Why were you gone when I woke up?”

Eddie pauses, opens his mouth. “I was- I had a nightmare. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Nothing more than that.”

Relief crashes through Buck like a tidal wave. In its wake, his face goes red with embarrassment. “Oh,” he says. “I’ve been kind of an idiot, haven’t I.”

Eddie shifts back so he’s no longer quite so close. “Maybe a little bit,” he says. He sounds lighter, a little breathless.

“So, it really doesn’t bother you? I was really worried I’d crossed a line there.” Buck scratches at his jaw. “I know I can be pushy.”

“You weren’t,” Eddie says. “It was fine.”

“Amazing,” Buck says. He smiles at Eddie. “That- I’m really glad. Thank you.”

A flicker of guilt shadows across Eddie’s face. “You don’t need to thank me. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“It is to me,” Buck says. “Seriously, I’ve been tearing my hair out over this. I talked to Hen and Bobby.”

Eddie’s face goes stormy. “You talked to Bobby about our sex life?”

“No!” Buck says quickly. “I didn’t give any details but, you know, it’s pretty obvious when we’re fighting. Or, whatever that was.”

“Us being insanely stupid,” Eddie tells him plainly.

“Yeah. So, uh, ready to go home?” 

“Right,” Eddie says sheepishly. “My bad.”

“I’m just glad we ended up talking,” Buck says.

—

Things get back to normal, but Buck can’t shake the idea that something bigger is wrong. He trusts Eddie with pretty much everything except his capacity to be honest about his own wellbeing. He doesn’t have any evidence of it, Eddie acting completely ordinary, but the feeling of offness doesn’t lessen.

They start having sex again, but he still can’t bring himself to try out the girl thing. That week where their misunderstanding was allowed to stagnate and grow is still too stark in his mind.

Then, Buck is sitting on their couch after having finished lunch, and next thing he knows Eddie is sliding to the ground and kneeling between his slightly spread legs.

“Oh,” Buck says uselessly when Eddie’s fingers squeeze his upper thigh, pulling his legs into a  wider v to make room for himself between them. 

“Hi,” Eddie says.

Buck, slightly amused, runs a hand through Eddie’s hair. “Hello, there. I’m, uh, loving the view.”

Eddie doesn’t respond. Instead, he noses into the crease of Buck’s thigh where it meets his groin, stays there and hides his face.

“Can we…” Eddie begins to say, before trailing off. His voice is muffled by warm skin and loose fabric. 

At the slight vibration of his throat against Buck’s crotch, his dick twitches. He swallows drily at the image of Eddie’s head buried between his legs. “Can we do what?” he asks.

Eddie breathes out; Buck can feel the exhalation of air against his skin. Eddie says, “Since that night, you haven’t- you stopped with the, um, feminization thing.”

“Yeah,” Buck says. He can’t tear his eyes away from Eddie’s when they peek up at him, molten brown in the low afternoon light. “It just felt kind of- awkward? Since I got so in my head about it, after.”

“I told you I liked it,” Eddie says. His left hand snakes between them so he can squeeze Buck’s ankle. The other hand lies flat over his thigh.

Buck bites his lip. “You did say that.” 

“So, can we?” Eddie asks plainly.

“Definitely,” Buck says, rasping. “You- you wanna be mine again? My girl?”

“Yes,” Eddie says on a sigh, “Fuck, please.”

It throws Buck off, a bit, the way Eddie is so immediately eager. He usually isn’t this willing to beg, but he can't deny that it’s making heat simmer in the pit of his stomach. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Buck says, “You’re so cute like this, on your knees. Gonna suck me off?”

Without responding verbally, Eddie shifts his head away from Buck’s inner thigh to mouth directly over where his dick is half hard in his sweatpants.

“Shit, you feel good,” Buck says. He resists the urge to grab onto Eddie’s hair, wanting this to stay at a comfortable pace.

Eddie moans, both hands reaching forward and up. He seems so desperate already, pulling down Buck’s sweats just enough to get his cock out, tucking the band under his balls.

Eddie is wet and warm when he takes Buck into his mouth, his tongue pressing up against the underside of the shaft. Buck shudders at the sensation, muscles tensing. 

He blinks for a moment, clenches his eyes shut before prying them open, not wanting to miss a single second of this. Eddie has a focused, desperate look on his face. The corners of his eyes are pinched, and his chest heaves in short gasps.

His cheeks are a glowing pink and sweat beads at his hairline. His lips stretched thin around Buck’s cock, jaw making incremental adjustments to avoid gagging. As he works Buck to full hardness, he’s forced to leave some of his cock out of his mouth, and he makes a distressed noise.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Buck immediately soothes. He rubs his thumb over the ridge of Eddie’s cheekbone, massaging his temples gently. “Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Say it,” Eddie tells him urgently, voice thick. His eyes open from where they were scrunched shut, finding Buck’s own gaze like a homing beacon. “Call me your girl.”

“So good for me, Eddie,” Buck says, helpless to obey. “You’re turned on right now, aren’t you? Are you getting wet for me? Is- is my pretty girl ruining her panties?”

Eddie makes a bitten back sound of utter want. His thighs squeeze together, knees pressing into each other, muscles jumping.

“Take yourself out,” Buck says. “Touch yourself.”

Eddie pauses. Eyes round and shiny. He licks his lips, the bottom one pink and plump. “Um, I- can I just get you off?”

“Uh, yeah,” Buck says slowly, bemused. “Sure, whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, resting his forehead against the meat of Buck’s thigh.

Buck says, “No you’re right, um- good girls wait for their turn, don’t they? You’re being so good.”

Eddie looks up at him, the almost imperceptible amount of tension running through his body relaxing. Without another word, he goes back to trying his absolute best to fit all of Buck in his mouth. He has before, but it took concentration and multiple minutes of focused deep breathing to prevent himself from choking.

This isn’t anything like that. 

Eddie acts like he’s dying to get Buck inside him, practically gagging for it. He pushes himself down until his chest is shuddering with the need to breathe in, only releasing him with a wet pop when it gets truly unbearable. His head bobs down, wet sounds filling the air as he sinks further down, again and again.

Buck, worried he’s actually going to suffocate himself, decides to take over. He sinks his fingers into Eddie’s dark hair, firmly tugging him up. 

Eddie whines at the loss, momentarily straining forward before he goes slack in Buck’s grip. To prevent him from hanging by his hair, Buck quickly moves him to be propped against his leg.

“Please,” The words blur together, sounding soft and malleable in Eddie’s mouth when he adds, “‘wanna make you cum.” 

“You will, just- I’m in control, okay? You don’t have to worry about anything. Be a good girl.” Buck’s dick twitches when Eddie’s hips jerk up in the air at the phrase. 

“Okay.” Eddie is almost entirely pliant in his grip. His long eyelashes flutter, brushing against his cheeks. “Thank you,” he says again.

Buck crowds around Eddie, leaning forward so he can touch him more easily. He shifts his hand from Eddie’s hair to the nape of his neck, brings it around to gently grasp the column of his throat. 

Eddie makes a needy noise. 

Ignoring it, Buck continues his slow examination of Eddie’s body. His hands trail down his neck to rest on the slight swell of his pecs.

Thumbing at a nipple through his thin black tank top, Buck says, “Your tits are perfect, Eddie.”

Eddie gasps at the meager contact, arching his back and squaring back his shoulders in an attempt to get more of it. Buck, indulgent, brings up his thumb and forefinger to pinch a little meanly at the nub. He rubs against it, feeling the tank top’s soft material and the way it catches slightly against Eddie’s chest. He shudders, but doesn’t move his hands from where they’ve settled in his lap.

“Yeah?” Buck prompts rhetorically, practically cooing, “You like it when I play with your pretty little tits? Get them nice and red while you squirm?”

Eddie makes a little uh-huh noise in mindless agreement, chews at his already-pink lips until they start to flush a deep red. His eyes are half lidded and he keeps swaying forward. “Buck,” he says, like it’s the only thing he can.

“I know,” Buck says. It’s an almost comical dichotomy, the way Eddie is hazy and lax while his own mind is sharp and clear. Completely focused in a way it rarely is. The world seems to fade into the background, with only Eddie in brilliant technicolor, every single pore highlighted with perfect clarity.

Buck returns a hand to the back of Eddie’s head. He threads his fingers through his hair, tenderly grasping at the strands. He notices the way the muscles in Eddie’s neck tense slightly at the touch, like he wants to lean into it. 

Instinctively, Buck tightens his grip. He watches, rapt, as Eddie’s mouth parts on a gasp. Between fluttering blinks, his pupils dilate, and Buck continues to increase the constriction accordingly.

By the time he’s satisfied with his hold, he’s practically pulling Eddie up by his hair. It can't be anything but incredibly painful, but instead of fighting against him, Eddie is perfectly pliant, soft noises escaping him in a constant stream.

Buck is so hard it hurts, but his own need barely filters in his mind. A distant hum against the waterfall of attention that is reserved for paying total attention to Eddie. His smell, his face, the way it twists up in pleasure at every decision Buck makes.

“Open your mouth,” Buck says. When Eddie immediately obeys, it pulses through his entire body.

With more care than Eddie would afford himself, Buck begins to slowly feed him his cock.

Eddie remains content to be led, throat opening around the intrusion with ease. For a moment, Buck is overwhelmed by the feeling of Eddie’s compliance, clenching his stomach against the urge to sheath himself fully in Eddie’s willing mouth.

Instead, he puts the slightest pressure to the back of Eddie’s head, and guides him down another tantalizing inch. Drool leaks from the corner of Eddie’s stretched lips, and he exhales through his nose. Buck feels it against his tense core.

It goes like this for a few honey-thick minutes, time stretching sweetly to accommodate. Buck feels like he’s burning up, desire and need trapped fire hot in his chest cavity. All that intensity condenses into a single-minded attention turned solely on Eddie. A spotlight of subsuming regard.

By the time Eddie’s nose is brushing against slightly curled pubic hair, Buck is out of breath. His lungs ache, but he can’t tell if it’s something corporeal or a more metaphysical craving. His heart beating in a singular rhythm, tapping out Eddie, Eddie, Eddie alongside the inside of his rib cage, driving the mantra throughout the rest of his body. Like maybe, instead of oxygen or water, that’s what’s been sustaining him the whole time.

When Buck was very small, he understood the concept of shooting stars but hadn’t quite yet known how to recognize one. Once, he’d seen what must have been an airplane— a blinking light in the sky, red and white drifting across the ocean of stars —and mistook it for something to wish upon. He’d looked up into the dark expanse and asked, pleading, for soulmates to become real.

Now, looking at Eddie, an expression of absolute trust and adoration painted across his face, Buck can’t help but feel that his wish came true. Nothing could change how he feels about Eddie. He’s been hollow with want since he was too young to understand the gaping need gnawing inside of him, and Eddie’s the only thing he’s ever found to satiate that hunger.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Buck says, words scraping their way out of his throat. “My pretty, perfect girl. Taking me so well.”

The noise Eddie makes is impossible to hear with him gagged so thoroughly on Buck’s cock. Instead, he feels it; a keen that vibrates in the back of Eddie’s crowded throat.

After a few long moments, Buck lets Eddie up. Just enough for him to flare his nostrils and inhale blissfully. Then, he’s pushing him down to the base and keeping him there, rolling his hips up into that impossible heat, feeling Eddie’s throat contract around him.

He repeats the process until his entire body feels like a livewire, a wave of heat just starting to crest. Eddie is completely limp. His shoulders slumped in contentment, jaw stretched wide. Drool and tears wet his chin but his hands stay settled against Buck’s knees. When Buck keeps him stuffed full, held at the base of his dick, he sinks into the grasp even further, tongue curling gratefully.

Enamored, Buck brushes gingerly against the outline of himself through Eddie’s throat. It feels electric on his fingertips. He can tell he’s just about three thrusts away from a toe-curling orgasm, but he doesn’t want this to end. He wants to keep Eddie like this forever, fucked out and pleasure drunk, soothed by his touch and his touch only.

The larger, more reasonable part of him, though, knows that it isn’t safe for Eddie to go much longer without regular access to air. 

Almost mournfully, Buck pulls out of Eddie’s inviting mouth. 

“Gonna doll you up,” he says, wrapping a tight fist around his cock and pumping. “Gonna paint you white, so everyone knows who you belong to, then I’ll make you pink with blush and- and lipstick, maybe a little liner to make your eyes look even bigger-”

“Please,” Eddie says, voice absolutely ruined, his head angled towards Buck’s cock, mouth open wide and tongue pillowing his teeth. “Please, make me yours, make me pretty, I need it.”

Buck stutters, squeezing himself tighter. Eddie’s spit and his own precum making the slide messy and quick. “Fuck, Eddie, you’re so- so perfect, so good, such a good girl-”

Then, he’s coming all over Eddie’s face with a shout, long ropes hitting his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. It feels like a supernova, a tidal wave, his entire body lit up with the feeling.

Buck draws it out, fucking his own fist until the overstimulation squirms painfully in his stomach. When he’s spent, Eddie presses a chaste kiss against the head of his cock, and it twitches valiantly in response.

He feels like his brain just melted and is leaking out of his ears, but it’s impossible to ignore how turned on Eddie still is.

Biceps bulging, Buck hauls him back up onto the couch, getting him on his back and laying between his spread legs. Without waiting another moment, he kisses Eddie.

He kisses him like he wants to crawl inside of him, like it hurts to be even an inch apart. His hands delicately cradle the back of his head, body leaning forward to close the small distance.

Separating with a wet sound, Buck buries his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck and covers him almost entirely, legs intertwined and chests meeting with each of their heavy breaths.

Eddie’s face is damp with sweat, the splatter of Buck’s spend still dripping sluggishly down the cut of his jaw. Without pause, Buck licks his own cum from Eddie’s cheek, the flat of his tongue against heated skin.

Eddie whimpers, fingers pulling at the fabric covering Buck’s broad shoulders. His thighs jump when Buck hitches them higher so he can grind into where Eddie’s cock is still trapped in the confines of his pants.

“Shit,” Eddie gasps out, gripping Buck so tightly it might bruise. “That’s- god, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna…”

“That’s it, use me,” Buck says. The air is sweltering between them. “Cum for me, sweetheart, I know you can, please.”

Eddie’s eyes roll back into his head. His back arches up into Buck and his nails scratch at his flesh even through the cloth of his shirt. 

Buck can’t feel it since somehow, they’re both fully clothed, but from the desperate and almost wounded sound that escapes from clenched teeth, he figures that Eddie did exactly as he was told.

“Good girl,” Buck says, whispered against Eddie’s damp brow. 

He doesn’t respond, holding onto Buck tightly. 

A few minutes pass while they catch their breath before Eddie starts to stir, shifting a bit uncomfortably. 

“Was that okay?” Buck asks, coming down from both his orgasm and the high of taking good care of Eddie, all of his concerns and insecurities filtering their way back into his mind.

Eddie makes an unintelligible noise, head flopping backwards to lean against the arm of the couch. He looks out of it, almost like he’s still getting fucked instead of recovering from it.

Buck pauses, taken aback. “Hey, talk to me,” he says, “are you good?”

“I’m so good,” Eddie slurs back. The only thing about him that signals alertness is the way his eyes are locked dead straight on Buck’s. He adds, like an afterthought in a slow moving mind, “You said so, right?”

“Yes, I, um. I did say that.” Buck purses his lips, nervous.

With sad, wet eyes, Eddie asks, “Were you lying?”

“No,” Buck says immediately and emphatically. “I would never! You were amazing, the most good ever, I swear. Fantastic job.”

Eddie smiles, teeth peeking from behind his lips. “Good,” he says.

Then, he slackens once again, practically melting into the couch.

Despite the lingering thought of helping Eddie out of his likely sticky underwear and cleaning him up, Buck can’t bring himself to let go of him, not when he’s still so clearly affected.

Instead, he hovers and returns to covering Eddie with his body like some sort of living weighted blanket. It must work because Eddie sinks further into the cushions below him with a contented sigh, eyes slipping closed.

“Thank you,” he says in a murmur. 

Buck kisses his cheek, totally uncaring of the drying cum there. “No need to thank me,” he says.

Then, so quietly Buck isn’t even sure he really heard it, Eddie says, “I’m sorry.”

Buck frowns. “For what?”

But whether asleep or simply ignoring him, Eddie doesn’t answer.

—

Suddenly, Buck is having more sex than he’s had since he was Buck 1.0.

It’s odd. Despite being the one to have originally brought up the girl thing, he finds Eddie being the one to initiate it most of the time. He’ll insert himself into Buck’s space, whisper in the meeting point between shoulder and neck, and ask for Buck to call him his girl.

Everytime they sleep together it’s the same dynamic; Eddie, sharp and wanting, and Buck helpless to do anything but cater to his obvious needs. Though, honestly, Buck can’t help but speculate where the desperation comes from. 

Eddie’s always been a very masculine guy, at least outwardly. The things he likes, the things he says. Even the truck he drives is traditionally masculine. Buck figures that maybe it’s something about that dichotomy that does it for Eddie. Buck firmly referring to him as he likes, ignoring everything that suggests otherwise. 

It’s not something they talk about in such clear terms, but they both have an understanding that Eddie likes being told what to do or be. And Buck, well, he can’t deny how much of a rush it is to be the person that Eddie turns to.

Despite the clear eagerness, though, Buck can’t shake the nagging thought that something feels a bit off. At first, he just thinks it’s that they went into the whole thing with essentially no negotiation. In the wake of their second time, Eddie’s behavior was worrying. Even after both getting off, it was clear he still hadn’t come down from the adrenaline, or whatever the chemicals were that had kept him loopy and dazed.

After a quick research rabbithole, Buck decides they need to have some sort of system. 

“So, uh, I think we should have a safeword,” Buck tells Eddie one afternoon, elbows leaning on the kitchen island.

Eddie, clearly unprepared for this type of conversation, has to take some deep breaths to prevent himself from choking on the apple cinnamon muffin Buck just pulled out of the oven. Clearing his throat, Eddie says, “Why do you always start with this stuff at the worst moment?”

“Sorry,” Buck says apologetically. He rushes to the sink to fill Eddie a glass of water. “I wasn’t really thinking. But I do mean it.”

“I might be about to embarrass myself,” Eddie says, a little reluctantly, “but what’s a safeword? I mean, I can kind of guess, but I want to be sure.”

“Well, sometimes when sex gets kind of…intense, it’s good to have a hard out,” Buck says, scratching at the back of his neck. “Basically, if we’re doing something and one of us suddenly really doesn’t like it, we can use the safeword and everything stops, no questions asked.”

“...Does that really seem like something we need?” Eddie says, skeptically. “I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything especially kinky. I’m not hitting you with a paddle or anything.”

Buck bites his lip, a bit hesitant. 

“What is it?” Eddie asks, arms crossing in front of his chest.

“Well, you know, you tend to get kind of overwhelmed sometimes. When we’re having sex,” Buck says, trying to figure out a polite way to say you occasionally start sobbing violently and I accept you always but it’s a little concerning.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Eddie hunches into himself a bit.

Buck rushes to correct him. “Nonono, that is definitely not what I’m trying to say. It’s fine! Honestly, it’s kind of hot, that you trust me enough to- but anyway, um. I’m just worried that, one day, I’ll say something you don’t like and I won’t be able to tell you want to stop because you’re already in a place that might read as distress.”

“I trust you. You would never do something I didn’t like,” Eddie says, almost defensively. Like he feels some sort of need to shield Buck from his own opinions of himself.

“I can’t read your mind, though,” Buck says. “So we have to consider that I might mess this up. If you’re really out of it, I want to have that assurance that I won’t accidentally hurt you.”

Eddie is quiet for a long moment, considering. Finally, he says, “Okay. If you think it’ll make you more comfortable, let’s do it. But it can’t just be for me, okay? It’s for both of us.”

“Of course,” Buck readily agrees, relieved that he can finally stamp out that bit of uncertainty that never quite goes away. 

“What should the word be, then?” Eddie asks.

Buck, of course, already has something in mind. “Uh, actually, there’s this thing called the traffic light system. Green for good, yellow for slow down, red for stop. I figured it might be easier to start with, since it’s so intuitive.”

Eddie smiles, and Buck can’t tell if he’s making things up or it really does look slightly forced. “You really have thought about this, haven’t you?”

“I want to take care of you,” Buck says truthfully.

Eddie moves from his position across from Buck so they’re side by side, wrapping his arms around him. Sighing, he says, “You’re too good to me.”

“Impossible,” Buck says earnestly. “You deserve the world and then some.”

—

Despite ramping up the number of check-ins when Eddie loses his composure, things still feel off. While their sex life is arguably the best it’s been, Eddie seems withdrawn in a way that Buck’s has no idea how to counter. 

Usually,  Buck will wake up first. These days, though, Eddie is almost always gone from the bed by the time he opens his eyes, the place next to him cold to the touch. 

Buck used to be very good at shouldering rejection. Somehow, in the time it took for him to fall in love with Eddie, he’s forgotten how to look down and keep quiet, how to accept what you’re given with no complaints. 

He’s gotten greedy, rife with avarice. He can’t be satisfied with anything but Eddie in his entirety, Eddie happy and fulfilled, Eddie getting everything he deserves and belonging to Buck.

He catches Eddie in the bathroom one morning, staring at himself in the mirror. His body is hunched over the counter, hands flat but fingertips pressing down like they want to clench into white-knuckled fists. 

He doesn’t notice Buck’s there, at first, and Buck doesn’t want to break this quiet moment so he holds his tongue and hovers in the entryway. 

In the yellow light of the bathroom, the dark circles under Eddie’s eyes are incredibly obvious, worrying in their severity. He hasn’t been sleeping. Buck already knew this, of course; he’s always been an early riser, so for Eddie to be completely gone by the time he wakes up would mean getting up before the sun peaks over the horizon. That’s not necessarily an easy thing to do, but he imagines it could be a much simpler process if you never actually went to sleep.

Eddie tilts his own head up like he’s evaluating himself, gaze and facial expression almost appraising. He still has his morning stubble, razor left forgotten a few inches from his right hand, still plugged into the wall outlet. He doesn’t look happy. He looks resigned at whatever he finds in his reflection, unsurprised but still unquestionably disappointed.

Feeling like he’s seen more than he deserves, Buck swallows. He was going to shower, but it’s early in the morning so he will still have time later. 

Now, he backs away from the door, a rectangle of light against the backdrop of the otherwise dark house, a small window into something he’s desperate to have knowledge of but refuses to take without permission.

Eddie doesn’t notice him at all, too caught up in his own head. Buck has no clue what he might be thinking about, but that expression on his face is one that’s become all too familiar these past few weeks. Something is changing, for the worse. 

Something is wrong, and it makes Buck feel like an iron fist is squeezing at his heart because he doesn’t know how to fix it.

—

The door shuts with a click behind him as Buck shoulders his way into the house, thick cardigan in one hand. Yesterday morning, before his shift had started, it was a brisk morning. If it was anywhere other than Los Angeles, he probably would’ve had his breath visible in the air.

Instead, due to the fickle and cruel nature of L.A. weather, he had to drive home from the 118 with the air conditioning blasting at full power and his sweater rendered entirely superfluous.

Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, pulling his curls out of his face for a brief moment. His hair’s gotten a bit too long, and he’ll probably need a cut in the next few weeks. Eddie always keeps his hair shorter than Buck’s, so he’s had a trim far more recently than him, but maybe he can convince Eddie to get one at the same time as him. It might be fun, a cute couple thing to do. 

“Eddie?” Buck calls out into the strangely quiet house. After a 36-hour shift, it’s closer to late afternoon than morning. Chris is, of course, hanging out at one of his friends’ houses, but his father should be home. Buck is pretty worn out after the long shift, but more than being tired he wants to hang out with Eddie. It’s been a while since they had to pick up separate shifts.

“Living room,” Eddie says, and now Buck is able to make out the faint sound of some sort of show playing on the TV.

Buck unlaces his shoes, putting them aside, then pads his way into the living room. He leans against the wall, smiling. “What’re you watching, Eddie?”

“This cooking show,” Eddie says. “It’s teams of chefs but they’re in a relay race. Guy Fieri hosts it.”

“Sounds fun,” Buck says. It comes out awkwardly, a testament to how little they’ve actually been talking these past few weeks. The knowledge of their distance twists harsh and discontented in the slats between his ribs.

Eddie hums, sounding a bit distant. “Yeah, I’ve been enjoying myself,” he says, but it’s audibly forced.

“Hey,” Buck says softly. “Um, can we talk?”

“Woah,” Eddie says, a strained chuckle leaving his lips. “That’s never a good question to hear.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Buck tells him earnestly. He’s just tired of feeling like he doesn’t understand what’s happening. He’s always prided himself in knowing Eddie better than anyone else, better than he knows himself, and yet— the love of his life is suffering and he doesn’t even know why. “I’ve just been kind of worried, lately,” he says, trying to be as casual as possible.

Eddie stands up from the couch languidly, joints popping when he stretches out his back. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he says. 

It would sound believable if not for the fact that Buck has been watching Eddie withdraw into himself for weeks. He wonders, pained, if Eddie is actually a bad liar or if he’s just not used to people caring enough to pay attention to his emotional state.

Turning around, Eddie walks over to where Buck had been hovering near the doorway. The blunt silhouette of his shoulders has turned sloping and relaxed, both a red herring and a desperate question; can we please not do this right now?

Buck, if nothing else, knows how Eddie commands his own body.

If he doesn’t want to talk, there’s nothing Buck can do short of making a scene to actually get them to have a conversation. He’s just come off of an incredibly busy shift and he doesn’t have it in him to fight. Not when he already feels his place is so precarious.

“I just had a good idea,” Eddie says lowly, now close enough for Buck to feel the exhalation of air as he speaks. 

Buck swallows. “Yeah?”

Eddie nods with a small lowering of his chin, and then they’re kissing, Eddie’s tongue teasing immediately at the seam of his lips. 

Buck, unable to do anything else, lets him in. He opens his mouth, tongue pressing gently against Eddie’s, slowing everything down to a much sweeter metronome. 

If he can’t convince Eddie to talk, if this is what Eddie wants? He can accept that. But he isn’t going to let this be messy and quick. He needs to be able to communicate in some way how much he cares.

As methodically as he can, he begins trying to demonstrate the tenderness of his love. Buck kisses Eddie’s face gingerly, a quiet press of lips against the zygomatic process and maxilla bone, hands wandering to wrap around his waist. He moves to Eddie’s velvet mouth, licking into him until they’re both breathless.

When they part, Eddie makes a soft, animal sound. His lips are shiny with spit, pink like the dawn and twice as gorgeous. 

Without speaking, Buck grabs onto Eddie’s wrists, pulling them through the quiet hallway to their bedroom. 

Once their door is shut, Buck says, “Lie down.”

“Buck,” Eddie starts, but he trails off. He falls silent and obeys, first perching at the end of the bed before slowly lowering himself until he’s staring at the ceiling. His chest rises and falls unsteadily while Buck watches.

“Good girl,” he says.

Eddie sighs, as though in some facsimile of relief. His eyes shutter closed.

Now, Buck walks forward until his legs are bumping against the mattress. He reaches a hand down, placing it on top of Eddie’s sternum. He rucks up his shirt, revealing pebbled nipples and smooth skin. 

He says, “I’m gonna mess with your tits until they’re sore and then I’m going to fuck you.”

Then, Buck pinches Eddie’s left nipple, eyes locked in on the way his hands spasm against the comforter at the feeling. He doesn’t let up for a long moment, only letting go once the nub is red and slightly swollen. To soothe it, he leans down and takes it in his mouth, creating a suction.

Eddie presses up into his hold with a strangled gasp. It pitches up into a moan when Buck brings up his other hand to play with the right nipple, thumb brushing against the sensitive skin.

“Can’t wait to feel you around me,” Buck says. “I bet you’re already so wet right now.”

He nips and sucks at Eddie’s chest until each inhale is shuddering and breathless, painting a constellation of hickeys and fading imprints of teeth. He kisses messily at Eddie’s navel, before leaning upward to capture Eddie’s mouth as his hands wander lower.

Sometimes, Eddie doesn’t want Buck to touch his dick. He prefers to come in less direct ways, like grinding against Buck’s thigh. Buck doesn’t know why, but everyone has their preferences and it doesn’t bother him at all.

It is the reason why he lingers at the base of Eddie’s groin instead of immediately reaching further, though. He brushes the pads of his fingers against the sparse hair that makes up Eddie’s happy trail as he sucks a mark at the base of his throat.

After a breath, he asks, “Color?”

“G-green,” Eddie says, stumbling slightly as Buck finally lets his hand wander lower and make a loose fist around Eddie’s cock.

“Such a beautiful girl,” he says, staring into Eddie’s glittering brown eyes. He licks his lips, feeling overheated.

He has a desperate, almost painful ache in his chest, a want so all-encompassing it feels like it’s choking him. The goal is a deceptively simple one; to provide Eddie with everything he deserves, to make him cry out and shudder, mindless with rapture. Buck needs it the way a thirsty dog needs water.

“I don’t-” Eddie’s face warps with an expression further from pleasure than expected, something distant but desirous. Then his hips press up into Buck’s hand, precum beading heavily at the tip of his cock, and everything gets swept away in the flood of motion. 

Buck grips Eddie harder, rubbing at the sensitive area right under the head, the need within him pulsing like a dying star. This isn’t like how it usually is. He’s not focused and deliberate, instead scattered by the enormity of his emotions, the concern he can’t shake even while Eddie is beneath him. 

Trying to recenter himself, he says, honest, “God, you look amazing right now.” His hand makes a wet sound against Eddie’s dick when he moves faster. “So turned on you’re leaking. I bet I won’t even need lube, you’re so wet and open, already ready for me.”

Eddie whines, high in his throat. His upper body has flattened itself to the mattress, a stark contrast to the way his hips are lifted high enough in Buck’s lap that his body looks like the curve of a bow. He’s thrusting into Buck’s fist like he can’t help himself, shying away with every down motion of his hand but immediately chasing the stimulation the second it leaves. 

“Buck,” Eddie says, eyes threatening to roll back in his head. His face twists up, almost as if in pain, one of his hands shooting out to grab onto Buck’s wrist tightly. “Buck-”

“Color?” Buck asks again. He tries to pull away slightly at his distressed countenance, but Eddie’s hand twitches where it’s gripping Buck’s wrist, and then he’s reeling him in even closer.

“Wait,” Eddie says, out of breath, “green, green, I’m fine. Keep- keep going, please.”

“Okay,” Buck says, a little reluctantly. “You, um, you’re doing really good for me, okay?”

Eddie, relaxing his hold on Buck’s wrist, leans back against the mattress. “Keep going,” he says. If Buck didn’t know better, he’d think he was bracing himself.

Buck readjusts his grip, an easy slide, something slower after the brief pause. Eddie lets out a breath at the touch, body deliberately arching into it. 

Buck exhales, trying not to let the awkward relief show. He feels off-kilter, like he skipped a beat in whatever rhythm has been shared between them since practically the moment they first met, and now everything is just slightly left of what it should be.

He doesn’t want Eddie to think he’s doing badly though. Speeding up the hand on Eddie’s cock, he says, “So lucky I get to have you like this. I- if people knew how amazing you are…”

At the praise, Buck can feel the way Eddie’s cock jumps against his slick palm. It snags on his attention, the way the head pink and flushed, and he tries to let himself be dragged under by the intoxicating movement of Eddie’s body. 

“I can imagine it,” Buck says, hushed. “They’d ask how I got my girl to be so perfect, but you didn’t need any help. I’d tell them, she’s been perfect from the start, came to me the most gorgeous thing-”

Eddie’s chest rises and falls violently, heaving like he’s running in a marathon, at the last stretch. He bites at his own mouth, and when it parts with a gasp, there’s a spot of red pearling on his lower lip. 

It makes Buck want to pause, the visual alarming in its violence, the way bitten back sounds of pleasure have become closer to sharp whines, but his mouth is running faster than he can catch it. The half-finished thought racing to completion.

“I should keep you like this forever,” Buck says, voice cracking. Something must be wrong because he doesn’t feel in control, the start of a reluctant spiral like a car crash in slow motion. He stutters, mind stalling, “You’re- you’re-”

“Fuck,” Eddie says, a mounting tension so gradual it’s only now fully apparent causing his muscles to draw tight and shaking. He repeats, “Fuck,” except this time it’s interrupted midway through with a convulsive sob.

In an instant, Buck is freezing, jaw snapping shut with a click. He feels like he just got to the hundred foot drop on a rollercoaster while blindfolded, like he just stepped off of a cliff into open air. 

Oftentimes, when they're having sex, Eddie will start crying. It’s never worried Buck before because he could tell the origin was euphoria; a pleasure so intense it overwhelmed him, left him helpless to do anything but surrender to it.

This is not that. This is something foreign and daunting, his face crumpling with each outburst of breath, a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the force of it. This has Buck hesitating, suspended with doubt, frozen with animal instinct.

In his pause, Eddie is immediately surging forward. “Green, green, I promise I’m green, wait,” he says, the words muddled by the chattering of his teeth, “Please, I swear-” 

He’s gasping wetly, fingertips curling like he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out. Trying to stop himself from shoving Buck’s hands off of him.

“Red,” Buck says.

He can barely hear himself over the blood rushing through his ears. He lets go of Eddie, takes several numb steps back from the bed. 

Eddie’s begging ceases. Eyes wide and already red from crying, his entire body trembling with the effort to stop. He pushes himself up to a sitting position with a sharp inhale of oxygen, but it catches in his chest with the carbon dioxide to become another sob on the way out.

“Okay, what is happening?” Buck says, too loud, too sharp, too panicked. His heels dig into the carpet and something sour is curdling in the space between his lungs that makes it harder to breathe. “Are- are you okay? Did I do something to fuck this up? Shit, I know you aren’t okay, you haven’t been, I should’ve done something.”

Buck crosses his arms in front of his chest, but it’s more like a bid to self-soothe, some sort of pressure to ground himself. “This is all my fault, I’m so sorry, Eddie,” he continues, wracked with a sudden guilt. “I’m the worst, I- I should’ve tried harder to talk to you, to fix whatever I did, do- should I leave? You obviously don’t want me-“

“Buck, stop. Don’t- don’t leave me, please. I promise it’s not you, I just- shit, ” Eddie says, voice thick in his throat. He looks up to make eye contact and he’s still crying, but it’s more of an afterthought, the wind taken out of his sails. He drops his face into his palms, fingers digging into his hairline, whitened from the pressure. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

Dread pools like mercury, coating the lining of Buck’s stomach, spreading all the way through to his guts and soft tissue. “Is that- are you talking about us?” he asks, feeling cold.

Eddie sighs, a heaving breath that seems to carry a heavy, heavy weight. He doesn’t stop hiding his face, shoulders hunching.

He says, quietly, “No, Buck, it’s not that.”

—

“This is a recurring problem for me,” Eddie says, fiddling with his fingers restlessly despite the steel reinforcing his voice.

They’re sitting at the dining table across from each other. Buck insisted on getting Eddie a glass of water and some snacks to replenish fluid despite feeling drained, putting a blanket over his still-shaky frame.

“What is?” Buck asks. He’s patient when Eddie bites his cheek, clearly embarrassed.

“Using sex as a way to distract from my problems,” Eddie says. His hands, wrapped around his water cup, dig into the smooth glass there. “It happened with Shannon, too, whenever she asked me about something I didn’t want to face, I’d just- distract her.”

“Like you’ve been distracting me,” Buck says, bringing the idea to its obvious conclusion. He can’t stop the bitterness from leaking into his tone, but it’s not directed at Eddie. He’s disappointed that he actually let himself get diverted by something as simple as sex. He thought he was past that, but clearly it’s not true.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, avoiding eye contact.

Buck resists the urge to reach out, to try and soothe the furrow between his brows. Now isn’t the time for that. Eddie, whether truly ready or just pushed to a breaking point, is finally ready to actually talk to him. 

“Why were you trying so hard to stop us from talking, then?” Buck says with an edge of hurt he doesn’t know how to soften. “What’s so bad you didn’t think I could handle it?”

“It’s not that. You’re amazing, and you’re always amazing, I just didn’t-” his voice turns watery, “I don’t want you to look at me differently.”

“I would never,” Buck says earnestly. “I promise, whatever is going on with you, I just want to help. I hate seeing you unhappy.”

“That's the problem,” Eddie says, like it hurts him to say. “If I- no matter what, I know you love me. But I can’t be that selfish, okay? I can’t do this to you.”

“Do what to me? Eddie, I chose to be with you, nothings changing that, okay-”

“But you don’t know me,” he cuts Buck off, heated. “You think you do, but you don’t, I promise. You think you love me, but I’ve been lying to you this whole time because I’m a fucking coward, and I always have been, my whole life.”

“That’s not true,” Buck says, brows furrowing. “Come one, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”

“I can’t even say it!” Eddie says through gritted teeth. He clasps his fists together, knocking his head against his knuckles. “I’m not…”

Buck leans forward. Trying to sound soothing, he says, “Look, if you told me you killed someone, I would help you hide the body, nothing you could say is going to change anything.”

“What if I wanted something to change?” Eddie asks, urgent. “I’m not going to trap you in this relationship, Buck.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, what is this about?” Buck says, trying not to sound exasperated. “I can’t argue about this with you when I don’t even know what we’re talking about!”

Eddie goes still, breathing out laboriously. Hands clearly shaking despite the way he squeezes them into impossibly tight fists. 

“Please,” Buck says softly. “I just want to help you.”

Eddie says, “I’m not a man.”

The silence between them is so immense it turns the air thick.

“What,” Buck finally manages, uncomprehending. His tongue feels thick in his mouth.

“I’m not a man,” Eddie repeats tightly, face pinched like he's (he?) bracing for something unpleasant.

“Wait, um,” Buck says, mind stumbling. Things reorienting, slotting into place too quickly to control. “Um, like, a…trans thing?”

“I just, I can’t do it anymore,” Eddie says, pressing palm to face. Voice like a wilted flower. “I thought I could stick it out, take what I’m offered and leave the rest, but I’m too weak. I can’t handle living like this. I can’t, I can’t.”

His chest feels like it’s caving in. Buck watches Eddie begin to cry for the second time tonight, and his heart is stuck in his windpipe, throat working uselessly despite having dry eyes himself.

“You’re not weak,” Buck says first, addressing the most easily rectified issue in Eddie’s words. No matter how he feels, Eddie is upset right now and ameliorating that is more important than anything else. “And you don’t have to ‘stick it out’ either, okay? You deserve happiness, Eddie.”

“How, though?” Eddie asks. “How can I be happy? I hate being like this.”

“Being, like, a guy? Or trans?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie rubs a hand down his (her? their?) face to wipe away the wetness. 

Buck says, “I’m so, so sorry, Eddie. I’ve been horrible to you.”

That, despite the still-flowing tears, gives Eddie a pause. “What? Why are you apologizing, In the one who should be sorry. I’ve been lying to you since the minute we met.”

“And I’ve been spending these past few months telling you I don’t want you to be a woman when you’re literally trans!” Buck puts his head in his hands. “Jesus, I’m actually the worst boyfriend in existence.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie says uncomfortably. “You don’t have an obligation to accept me, or change your mind just because of such a dumb thing.”

Buck makes a noise of disapproval. “First of all, it’s not dumb at all, and I kind of do have an obligation to not being a total asshole, so yes, I accept you. I always will, no matter what.”

Eddie looks heavy with a lifelong weight, the type that gains mass as the years go by and will eventually cut through blood and bone and muscle. Eyes wide with emotion, clearly trying not to hope. “Really?”

Buck softens, heart aching. He can’t believe he’s been letting Eddie suffer for so long without even realizing it. 

“Of course,” he says emphatically, “and the reason I feel like such an idiot for everything I’ve said these last few months is because it’s not even true.”

“What?”

“Your gender doesn’t matter to me at all.” Hearing himself, Buck corrects, “Well, of course it does in some ways, but it has no effect on the way I feel about you. You’re the love of my life, Eddie. There’s no one but you, and there never will be.”

“Even if I’m not who you thought I was?” Eddie asks, quiet.

Buck looks into Eddie’s eyes and reaches to take one of Eddie’s hands, squeezing it gently. “This doesn’t change anything for me,” he says, steady and wholehearted. 

“It- it isn’t that simple,” Eddie denies. “You can’t just be okay with this.” 

Buck can read between the lines. You can’t just be okay with me.

“I am,” he says simply. No room for questioning or denial. He brushes his thumb against the knuckles of Eddie’s hand, calming.

Eddie slumps, suddenly subdued. “I’m so tired of waking up and feeling like I’m suffocating. I don’t want to be like this.”

“Then don’t,” Buck says. “We can look into the options, find out what you want. I’ll make it happen.”

A small smile lifts up the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “How can you be so perfect?”

“I’m not even close to perfect,” Buck says sincerely. “I just want you to feel good about yourself.”

Eddie hunches forward, pulling Buck’s hand closer to give it a kiss. “I love you,” Eddie says, “and you deserve an apology. When you brought up feminization, I thought it was perfect. Something I could use as a kind of pressure release, you know? Let myself go for an hour to get back to being a good man. But it didn’t work.”

Buck opens his mouth, but Eddie stops him. “I need to say this. It didn’t work. It just made me want more, made me feel that much more aware of my body and the actual truth I couldn’t deny. Sometimes I felt insane for letting you pretend any part of me was similar to a woman, like you had to be laughing in your head at the absurdity. Then, I thought, wasn’t that what I deserve?”

Buck’s grip on Eddie’s hand tightens. reassurance for both of them. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, pained.

“I know,” Eddie says, “but it’s what I thought. It didn’t usually feel all that uncomfortable in the moment, but afterwards I could barely look at myself. I was so fucking ashamed, and I used you to hurt myself, and I’m sorry because that’s not okay.”

“No, it isn’t,” Buck says. “But I forgive you. Just please don’t let me hurt you ever again, I don’t think I could take it.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Eddie tells him.

“Um, it feels kind of weird to ask,” Buck says a little hesitantly, “but how do you actually feel? Like, are you a woman? Do you know what pronouns you want to use?”

“Yeah, um, I am. A woman,” Eddie says, wincing slightly like it’s still a difficult thing to admit. “And- and it’s she.”

“Okay, cool, got it,” Buck says. “So, I guess you’ve thought about this before, huh?”

“Despite trying my best not to,” Eddie says wryly. Then, a bit more seriously, “I think I’ve always known my body was wrong somehow, I just didn’t want to think about what it actually meant.”

“Until now,” Buck says, smiling.

Shyly, Eddie returns it with his- no, her own smile. It blossoms across the surface of her face, beautiful as she agrees, “Yeah, until now.”

Buck, unable to accept the distance between them, walks around the table to Eddie’s side, wrapping her into a massive hug. He presses his face into her neck, arms firmly wrapped around her waist. Smells the clean scent of sweat there.

“I’m so proud of you,” he says.

Eddie, holding him back, doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, she simply tightens her grip. 

Tears, this time of relief instead of distress, begin to dampen Buck’s collar; the first spring rain after a cold and harsh winter.

—

It’s mid-shift, early afternoon when a woman stumbles into the firehouse, limping.

Buck, in the middle of trying to perfect Bobby’s chili recipe, turns the heat on the stove to low before jogging down the stairs. 

“Hey,” he calls out, “can I help you?”

“Oh, um, hi!” the girl says, laughing nervously. “I think I sprained my ankle?”

Buck comes to the end of the stairs and nods at her. Today was his turn to be the man behind, and the 118 got called out for some construction emergency, so the station is unusually quiet. 

“Here, let’s go sit down and I’ll take a look,” Buck tells her, offering his arm. “What’s your name?”

“Charlie,” she says. “I would shake your hand but, you know.”

Buck hums in acknowledgment, guiding her to sit down. “Buck, nice to meet you. I’m gonna take a quick look to see how serious this is, that sounds okay?”

“Sounds great,” Charlie says. “This is really embarrassing, I was just out for a run and totally fell on my face.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Buck says good naturedly. “Trust me, I’ve heard a lot worse.”

“I can only imagine,” Charlie says, laughing.

Buck kneels to take a look at her ankle, checking for signs of a torn ligament or broken bone. “The swelling isn’t too bad, you probably only lightly sprained if it hurts to walk, but definitely check in with a doctor.”

“Gotcha,” Charlie says. “I already called a friend to pick me up, is it okay if I wait here for her?”

Buck nods. “Yeah, no worries! Let me get you some ice and something to prop up your leg.”

“RICE, I remember,” she says.

Buck goes back upstairs to make sure the chili is simmering well and to grab an ice pack, before returning to wait with Charlie for her friend to arrive.

They chat idly, Buck’s mind wandering a bit. He’s thinking about whether he’ll have leftovers from the chili that he can use for Chris’ school lunch or not. 

“I think my friend is here,” Charlie says, checking her phone. 

Buck claps his hands. “Great, let me walk you out.”

As they enter the parking lot, Charlie clears her throat. “You probably get this a lot, but thank you so much for helping me out,” she says.

“It was my pleasure,” Buck tells her. 

She points out her friend’s car, then says “Look, you’re a really nice guy. Is there any way I could get your number?”

Buck pauses. He used to be great at understanding when he was being hit on, yet this takes him entirely by surprise. 

Taking his silence as its own answer, Charlie smiles ruefully. “No worries, it was a long shot anyway.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Buck says. Then, with full confidence, he grins, adding, “I have a girlfriend.”

This time, it’s not a joke.