[fic] drive you into a corner (and kiss you without a sound)

[pairofraggedclaws]

Title:  drive you into a corner (and kiss you without a sound)
Fandom: 9-1-1
Rating: E
Word count: 6793
Characters/pairings: Buck/Eddie, minor appearances by others
Summary: Eddie keeps kissing Buck; somehow, he's not sure why.

 

From the start, Eddie likes the 118. Bobby, who he's only seen from a distance, observing his academy class, is warm and welcoming. Hen and Chimney are relaxed around him, having their own conversations, but also including him. They show him around - Chimney tells him not to clean the kitchen until he's learned Chimney's foolproof routine - and openly explain things, not hazing him like he had been warned to expect.

Then there's Buck, a guy around Eddie's age built like a brick shithouse, who's got a death glare every time Eddie sees him, practically vibrating with tension. He seems determined to hate Eddie.

Buck also features in the majority of Hen and Chimney's stories. They talk about him like a little brother. Eddie hasn't heard one person talk about Buck without noticeable affection in their voice, whether they know him well or just to say hi to.

Eddie should give him space until he gets used to having someone new here, but he just can't resist poking the bear. There's something about Buck; maybe it's the way everyone, even Bobby, talks about him, or his clear enthusiasm for the job that is noticeable even as he stares daggers at Eddie. Something just - interesting about him. It makes Eddie want to be noticed by him, even if it's just Buck picking another fight.

After a couple shifts, it's not getting better. Eddie tries focusing on work, getting to know the rest of the team; he tries talking to Buck. His sympathy is genuine; as a freshly-divorced, newly-out man, he gets how having a complicated life can make things harder, make change harder to accept. But it seems like the harder Eddie tries, the closer he gets to Hen and Chimney, the more annoyed Buck is by him.

Something's gotta give. As it turns out, what gives is a grenade out of a guy's leg in the back of an ambulance, and shortly afterward, the ambulance's structural integrity as it explodes.

In the aftermath, with Buck red and smiling and tripping over his words, Eddie thinks he's talking to the real Buck for he first time ever. Here's what he learns: the real Buck is a total dork.

 

1.

The building behind them is still smoking, but the fire's given up the fight. Their boots crunch on wet, charred wood as they all make their way back to the truck.

They're in that sweet spot that sometimes happens after a call. No one died, no one was seriously injured. Everyone's tired, but the good kind of tired, still flush with adrenaline and good feeling. Hen and Chimney are helping to load the last patient into the ambulance, Bobby hovering by the engine, texting someone (probably Athena), as Buck and Eddie head around the truck to strip off helmets and turnouts.

Buck is riding especially high, having saved an actual basket of kittens along with two rescues of the human variety, and he's talking a blue streak. He actually skips a little, just once, smacking Eddie on the chest as he goes by, and Eddie's in just the right kind of mood to listen to Buck's chatter, get pulled along by his ebullience, his flashing smile and the goofy-ass way he widens his eyes to emphasize a point. He makes a picture, blue eyes and white teeth the only brightness in his face, the rest streaked with soot and sweat. He keeps putting his hands on Eddie as they shed their turnouts, shaking his shoulder, patting his cheek just short of a smack, mussing his hair with the enthusiasm that seems to be bursting through every seam. Eddie laughs and squirms away and shoves Buck so he can get his damn turnouts off.

"You're so annoying," he says in exasperation. Buck just grins at him, unaffected by this.

"You're talking to the hero of the kitten world," Buck says, and he's literally posing, the fucking idiot. And then Eddie pushes Buck against the side of the truck and kisses him.

It's short, just a clinging press of lips and the tiniest flash of tongue, and then Eddie jerks back in shock, mind blank. On the other side of the truck, Bobby is calling for everyone to load up.

"I gotta..." Eddie says, and makes a dignified exit into the truck, leaving Buck leaning against the truck, mouth half open as he tracks Eddie with his eyes.

So....yeah, that's something that happened. That was a moment. Just the aftereffects of a good call, one that didn't have to work out well but did. All that fading adrenaline and creeping exhaustion. It's not - Eddie's not into Buck. Not that baboso, twenty pounds of energy in a ten pound bag, who flirts outrageously on calls and makes lifelong friends with every dog he meets. It was just - something. A fluke. Whatever.

Eddie's awkward around Buck for a couple of shifts until he realizes that Buck isn't actually acting any differently, so, great, they can both pretend that never happened.

 

2.

Eddie does so well at pretending, he almost actually forgets. He's sticking with the idea that it was a freak thing, nothing that could happen again, nothing to worry about. That was the first big fire they were at together, he's more used to the job now, more used to working with Buck. Anyone might kiss their coworker in that kind of situation. Makes total sense.

It's not like he has time to think about Buck - or anything. Eddie thinks he must spend most of his life out of work driving Christopher places, and the rest of it painstakingly figuring out who can drive Christopher, who can take him overnight, who can take him for an afternoon. He can tell the strain is showing, even to Christopher.

When Buck invites him over, ostensibly to help him move, then apparently to set him up, Eddie is both annoyed and exhausted. He doesn't have time for nonsense. He doesn't have time to meet this random woman, and if he did, he'd just have to explain to her that actually, he has no free time to see her, sorry. He really doesn't want to have to pre-emptively reject someone and leave them feeling like shit. But -

"This is Carla," Buck says, "the finest home-health aide in Los Angeles."

Eddie should be looking at Carla. He should, but he can only look at Buck.

He gets it together a moment later, shakes her hand and offers to get her something to drink. While she sits at the table, pulling a notepad out of her purse, Eddie goes into the kitchen and gets Buck by the belt loop, turning him around and kissing him, once, twice, three times until Eddie's out of breath.

An hour later, better one ally and a game plan, Eddie feels something like the weight of a boulder has been lifted. Not off his back, off his chest. That, and a strange exhaustion; maybe one he hasn't been allowing himself to feel. Hasn't been able to allow himself to feel, or he'd stumble and fall.

Buck, who has been pretending to putter around in the kitchen the entire time, pops his head out. "It go okay?"

Eddie falls back into his seat at the table and drops his head into his hands. "Holy shit, Buck," he says to the wood grain of the table. "You have no idea."

"In...a...good way?" Buck says, drifting hesitantly closer.

"Yes," Eddie says. An unreal sense of relief is stealing through him. "A very good way. You - you have no idea what this means to me." He meant to say what it means for him.

This time, it's not even an intentional repression; it gets lost in the emotion and exhaustion and relief of that day. Even if he were to think about it - remember it, say, lying in his bed trying to go to sleep at night, replaying the way Buck laughed, surprised, against his lips, the way he kissed Eddie back, the way he pulled Eddie in for one more lingering kiss before Eddie went back to talk to Carla -  even if he were to do that, well. It's just - it's just the emotion of the moment. Buck's hot, it's not weird. It's normal. Very normal, as well as platonic.

 

3.

A month later, Eddie experiences acid for the first time. One moment he's in the truck, Chimney saying, "A new kind of pollen?" with an incredulous note to his voice, and the next he's in the land of balloons.

The moment after that, he sees Buck, who is sparkling. Or maybe...sparking? Eddie makes his way over to Buck to get conclusive answers.

"Heyyyy man," Buck says. Eddie picks his arm up by the wrist, staring at the branching veins. He can see them, all of them, and they're glowing with golden light through his translucent skin.

"Whoa," he says, tracing them. Buck's forearm flexes and shifts under his hand, each movement setting off little chain reactions, pulses and gleams of light.

"Hey," Buck says, laughing, the air pulsing around him, and Eddie drags his eyes up. He can see the veins everywhere, everywhere. He releases Buck's arm to trace his jugular, a little radiant river down Buck's neck. They're visible in Buck's face, his eyes, he's lit from all over, from within.

"Buck," Eddie says, letting his fingers brush the little veins visible under Buck's eye, just gently. "Hi, Buck."

"That feels nice," Buck says, as Eddie's fingers travel back down his neck. Where he touches, white-gold electricity flashes through the dimmer yellow-gold.

"I need a raise," Chimney says, going past with a woman with a shoe - nope. Eddie has to look away from that because it is way too much and very horrible right now. He looks back at Buck instead. Buck is lovely to look at, soothing and pretty and comforting.

"You're pretty," Buck tells him earnestly. "You're like - Eddie, you're like - "

Eddie would love to hear what Buck thinks he's like, but he cuts Buck off with a kiss, has to, he can't hold off for even a second. He pulls Buck in by the back of his neck, and the feeling of Buck's lips on his has him making a soft, relieved sound, like he's got a sunburn and Buck is aloe. Except Buck is closer to the sun than aloe, all made up of light the way he is - and Eddie can still see the glow through his closed eyelids. Buck makes a little sound too, maybe surprise, but kisses Eddie back, and fuck, his mouth is opening against Eddie's, his hands on Eddie's back, and Eddie gratefully lets his own lips part for Buck's tongue, breathes in that golden light that's pouring out of Buck's mouth and into Eddie's.

"Jesus H. Christ," someone says.

Eddie yelps indignantly as he and Buck are rudely separated. He furrows his brow - it seems to take a long time for his features to arrange themselves - at the person who has interrupted. It's Athena, now in between him and Buck with a hand on each of them, keeping them apart.

"Why'd you do that, Athena?" Buck says, sounding betrayed.

She snorts, shaking her head. "It's time to go, boys. Plus, Chimney's got enough pictures now."

Eddie's not really paying attention; he's looking at Buck. And Buck's looking back, biting his lip. Buck turns to look at Athena, leaving blurred afterimages in the air behind him, rainbow-edged.

"Our shift isn't even over," Buck says.

"Trust me, it's over," she says, exchanging a glance with Chimney, who is somehow now there with them. "I'll drive you home."

"Home?" Eddie says. The bottom falls out of the world a little. "Why are we...did I do something wrong?" His eyes feel hot, his cheeks. He wants Buck closer.

"You made him cry," Buck says with wonder in his voice.

"Eddie, you didn't do anything wrong," Athena says.

"You're just on so much acid," Chimney says. "Not the best way to work." Eddie can feel himself crying now. It's just that he feels like he's in trouble, and he's been trying so hard to do well at this job, and he doesn't want anyone to be mad at him. "Hey, hey, Eddie," he adds, voice very gentle, soft on Eddie's skin. "It's okay. Buck and Hen are on acid too, and all of you are gonna go home, okay? You didn't do anything bad. We just want you to be safe."

Eddie thinks he's still crying, but he feels more calm. He nods slowly.

"Okay, if I let you boys go, are you gonna behave?" Athena says. She sounds a little like she's laughing, in some undercurrent of her voice. As Eddie notices it, he realizes he can see it, a twisting, vibrant little thing somehow the exact color of laughter. Which is apparently fuchsia.

"She means no kissing," Chimney clarifies.

"Why not?" Buck says, at the same time that Eddie says, "Fine." He just wants to close this horrible distance between him and Buck.

Athena rolls her eyes and releases them both. Eddie, still feeling a little off, a little raw, goes straight into Buck's arms, resting his head on Buck's shoulder, forehead pressed into Buck's neck. Buck's arms enfold him and he melts.

"The letter of the law, if not the spirit," Chimney says.

"Can I go with Buck to his house?" Eddie says.

"No," Athena says. "You are going to your house."

"Can't go to my house," Eddie mumbles, lulled into a comfortable trance. Buck is rubbing his back. "Christopher is gonna be home soon."

"I don't wanna go to my apartment alone," Buck says, sounding scared.

Chimney sighs. "Okay. Okay. Buck, is Maddie home?"

Eddie feels Buck shake his head. "She's at work. She just started her shift."

"Okay, looks like I'm babysitting at my house," Chimney says. "I'll text Carla about Chris."

"Sure you can handle keeping these two off each other?" Athena says, and that's the last thing Eddie's conscious of hearing before they're at the 118. Seeing the familiar station through the car window makes Eddie smile, feeling safe.

"Good luck," Athena says, wryness lighting her words a tart chartreuse.

 

Chimney's place is filled with light and feels like him, and being inside with only familiar people makes Eddie feel at ease. Eddie sits with Buck on the couch, and Chimney heaves a sigh, sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm pretty wiped," Chimney says. "If I go to bed, will you two be okay? It would just be for a couple of hours."

"Yeah," Eddie says, content. In his peripheral vision, Buck nods, creating several versions of himself that slowly fade.

"Awesome." Chimney stands, yawning. "You can wake me up if you need anything. And, uh, maybe hold off on the kissing, guys."

"I like kissing Buck," Eddie says. He feels Buck wiggle closer, leaning into his side.

"I love that you like kissing Buck," Chimney says. "I just think your sober self might want some input. So just, you know, put a pin in it. Okay, Eddie?"

"Fine," Eddie says, petulant. Chimney coughs, trying to hide a laugh, but Eddie can see that quivery undercurrent of fuchsia, so he knows anyway.

"Well, see you in a bit," Chimney says. "Maybe watch something. I'll be back soon. Have fun, kids." His bedroom door closes, and then he calls, muffled, "But not too much fun!"

"Chimney's the best," Buck says, turning on the TV.

They sit like that for a long time. Eddie's not sure how long. He has Buck's hand and has been tracing his fingers up and down it, along each finger, the lines of his palm, up his forearm and over the thin skin of his wrist, his golden veins. Every touch, and every minute moment of Buck's own, triggers a cascade of changes. Eddie watches the shifts of light, transfixed, for a long time, and doesn't watch the TV. When Buck laughs at whatever's on screen, it nearly makes Eddie shiver with how good it makes him feel.

 

After a while, Buck's hand turns to close over Eddie's, palm to palm. "You can, you know," Buck says. Eddie knows what he's talking about immediately.

"I said I wouldn't," Eddie says reluctantly. He watches the way Buck's fingers tangle with his. It looks right. Whole.

"Hmm," Buck says. He uses their clasped hands to nudge Eddie's chin so he looks up. "I didn't."

"Buck," Eddie says, hushed, as Buck leans in. He wants to explain how perfect this is, them together. That they go together. That they should always hold hands like this. But Buck kisses him, so he only says, "We - "

It's so soft, so slow, so gentle. Light is everywhere again, exploding through every part of Eddie even as they kiss closed-mouthed, just a brief press of their lips together. After that's over, and after a period of time where they stare into each other's eyes breaking into giggles, Buck starts whatever he was watching again. Eddie watches, a little, though it's hard to keep track of what's going on. Every now and then, Buck leans over to kiss him again, which doesn't help. It takes a long time for the glowing light to fade enough for Eddie to see the TV again.

 

By the time Chimney comes out of his room, Eddie's pretty sure it's been a long time, not just a nap. He can feel the acid fading, and he's starting to get tired, which he hasn't been this entire time. He and Buck aren't holding hands anymore, just their knees still pressed together.

"How's everything going, stoned people?" Chimney says, trudging into the kitchen.

"Less stoned," Eddie says. "But still kinda."

"Can I just ask," Buck says, eyes closed, from where he's sprawled back against the armrest, "how many pictures you took of me today doing stupid shit?"

"The right amount," Chimney says. He snickers to himself; Eddie can't see it anymore. Things are mostly where they usually are, even though the colors are still deeper, vivid and vibrant.

"Just wait til you get dosed," Buck says. A phone rings, making Eddie jump.

"I'd expect no less in return. Hello?" Chimney says into his phone. He pulls it away from his face. "Buck, Maddie's here to pick you up."

"I am gonna sleep for a year," Buck says, standing and stretching. Eddie stands too, and they hug by some silent agreement before Buck goes. Eddie stands, looking at the door, even after Buck is gone.

"You wanna talk about it?" Chimney says.

"Talk about what?" Eddie says. Chimney raises an expressive eyebrow. "No."

 

4.

It's harder to put it away, this time, attached as it is to one of the weirder days of Eddie's life. He's not about to just forget it. Plus, everyone else saw. Everyone keeps talking about it. Including Buck.

Chimney teases them about it, showing Hen pictures that make her laugh hard enough to clap a hand over her own mouth. Buck blows Eddie kisses, now, and winks at him, and calls him things like snookums. It makes Eddie laugh too, to be honest. But there's some other feeling tangled in it.

When he was tripping, he could see those tones, those feelings, like threads of color, some tangled together, some flowing through each other, some large, some small. Laughter, a fushcia twist; happiness, a vivid electric blue; the crisp black and white way Athena spoke, like newsprint - but all wrapped up in other things, an affectionate thread of indigo, muted cinnamon...

He wonders what color this feeling would have, this little thread that tangles through him when the running joke of their acid-induced kisses come up. If he could see it, maybe he would know what it was.

Eddie has it in his memory, now, the feeling of Buck's lips on his. Something so Buck about the way Buck kisses, the enthusiasm, the single-mindedness of it. He throws himself into it like he does with everything.

He's just feeling a little rattled, maybe. Off-kilter, wrong-footed. He stands in the kitchen with everyone, shooting the shit like normal, chats in the truck, eats dinner with the team. Things he's been doing since he started at the 118. But now if Buck is next to him, or looking at him with one of those lingering looks that Eddie can't even begin to read, that feeling comes back. Eddie feels clumsy around him, his legs unfamiliar, his hands fumbling. He can't figure out how to act normal. He can't remember how he did it before. And he's not getting better at it; he's getting worse.

Washing dishes after lunch, with Buck leaning on the counter beside him, bumping his hip against Eddie's, and Eddie's mouth is dry as sand. He fumbles with the plate he's holding, somehow always getting the wrong part of it in his hand. At least it lands without breaking when he finally drops it.

Eddie just needs a minute. But the bell goes, and that's it, he's not getting one. Once they're in the truck, he's back at sea with Buck's knee pressed against his.

They finish up, just a quick medical call with an elderly woman. Back at the station, Buck asks Eddie to help cleaning the trucks - it's not like he can just say no, obviously. But his head feels hot and muddled. Buck's down to a t-shirt, his hair a little wet from where he keeps touching it with sudsy hands. He puts one of those wet hands on Eddie's shoulder, leaving a handprint, and Eddie twists away. Buck flicks suds at him, and he squawks in outrage before he can think not to.

Buck is laughing as he goes back to wiping down the truck. He has such a warm way of laughing, and it takes over his whole body, makes him shake, throw his head back, pound the leg of whoever is closest to him.

So this time Eddie feels it in advance: he is going to kiss Buck. He wants to taste the laughter on Buck's lips. He feels it like a rope pulling him, slowly but inexorably. Eddie goes to the far side of the truck to get the hose, thinking control yourself and what the hell are you doing?

He takes a moment to bang his forehead softly into the side of the truck.

"Hey, what did the truck ever do to you?" Buck's followed him, eyes warm with amusement.

"So much," Eddie says, turning to lean back against it.

Buck laughs softly, coming to stand in front of Eddie. Eddie's paralyzed, fighting to stay where he is, batting away image after image in his mind's eye. Buck's fingers on his jaw. Buck stepping even closer, that shy smile on his face, the one he always tries to hide by looking at the floor. Buck's hands on his waist - god they'd feel huge there, they'd -

Eddie startles as Buck's hand actually lands on his waist. On some reflex - Eddie has no idea why he has this reflex - Eddie grabs Buck's arm. His hand does a little exploration on its own steam, feeling the muscle of Buck's bicep before he makes himself stop. Buck is - he's leaning in, heat from his body tangible - and -

And grabbing the hose from next to Eddie with his free hand. He squeezes Eddie's hip once before letting go. "Just a quick rinse and we're good," Buck says. He looks down at his own arm, where Eddie's hand still has a hold.

"Sorry!" Eddie says, taking his hand back like Buck's a hot stove.

"It's cool," Buck says, and winks. He takes the hose with him, mercifully going back around to the other side of the truck, giving Eddie a chance to let his blush cool down.

Just. What the fuck. This is Buck. The guy who cries at pictures of cute animals and baby videos. The guy who sings off-key to pop music while he does chores. The guy who tucks his shirt in while he's working out because it "helps him focus." He's - he's Buck. He's kind, and selfless to an alarming extent, and he's a good firefighter. Eddie's very fond of him. Eddie trusts him.

Eddie's not sure how that translates to being reduced to a speechless, red-faced mess when Buck reaches past him for something and winks at him.

"Thinking deep thoughts?" Chimney says on the way past. He raises his voice. "Or maybe you're trying to get out of helping Buck?"

"I'm not, just don't - " Eddie whispers harshly, waving his hands at Chimney. He stops when Buck comes back around.

"I'm not even gonna ask, actually," Chimney says, continuing on his way.

"C'mon, Eddie, trying to get out of chores?" Buck says, with undisguised amusement.

"Shut up," Eddie says. He's smiling, he can't actually stop himself, and his face is still hot, he can feel it. It gets worse when Chimney actually stops in his tracks and turns around to look at them. "I'm not. I was just about to come help you finish."

"Hmm, I don't know if I can trust you," Buck says, and next thing Eddie knows, he's over Buck's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Buck," Eddie yelps, as he's hauled over to the other side of the truck. At least here, Chimney isn't looking at him like that. Buck drops him fairly unceremoniously, and he stumbles, engine at his back saving him from falling. "You are so - "

"Oh yeah?" Buck says, amused eyes all over Eddie. He gets up in Eddie's space, and Eddie's got nowhere to go as Buck leans in and says quietly in his ear, "I think maybe you like it."

"Uhhh," Eddie says. His brain slips a gear and stalls. Buck's got a smile around his eyes, and he pushes Eddie against the truck by his shoulders and kisses him hard. Some kind of filter or self-control has totally left Eddie, because he's kissing back, tugging at Buck's clothes to get him closer. Buck obliges, and his mouth opens, lips clinging, tongue sliding into Eddie's mouth, and Eddie has to hold onto his arms for dear life.

"Ohhh shit," says Chimney. Buck pulls back and Eddie's head falls back against the truck, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

"Chimney," Buck says. "Hey, uh. How's it going?" He doesn't move away, or move his hands where they're pressing Eddie up against the truck. Eddie is honestly grateful, because his dick is not as calm as he'd like, and Buck's body is blocking Chimney's line of sight. Maybe Buck isn't moving because he's in the same situation, Eddie muses, a thoroughly counterproductive thought.

"Oh I'm good," Chimney says incredulously. "How are you two? Looks like pretty good?"

Buck steps back and Eddie does not glance down. He's an adult and they're at work. And Chimney is right fucking there.

"We were just, uh," Buck says, in the tone of someone actively coming up with a lie, "cleaning. And, I, uh, I fell - "

Eddie just shakes his head, looking up at the ceiling. He has to, because this is kind of embarrassing, and awkward, and Buck is seriously doing nothing to help because Chimney saw them full-on making out. And Eddie really wants to kiss him again.

"Gonna stop you there, because there is nothing in the universe you could say that will explain away what I just saw. And you know what, it's none of my business. Godspeed, and consider finding a place for your make-out sessions that isn't basically asking for Bobby to stumble across you," Chimney says. "Unless you're into that." He gives them a little wave and heads off.

"Ew," Buck calls at his back.

"We should finish up," Eddie says. He's beet red again in an instant when Buck turns to look at him, eyebrows raised with disbelieving delight. "Not like that, not like that. The truck. We should finish washing the truck."

"And, uh, when we're done?" Buck says, sidling closer again.

"Then we'll be done," Eddie says inanely. All his mental energy is being put towards restraining himself from pulling Buck close again.

Buck laughs. "Guess we'll have to find something to do, then."

"Buck, we're at work," Eddie says. He grabs the hose and turns it on, focusing on rinsing the suds off the truck so he won't look at Buck. But it doesn't take long until he's done. Still, Buck behaves, putting the hose away as Eddie deals with the other supplies.

Buck finds him in the supply closet.

"No," Eddie says when Buck comes in.

"I know you wanna get your hands back on these guns," Buck says, flexing ridiculously, grinning cheesily.

Dios mio, Eddie thinks, I want to sleep with this man . "No," he says.

"It's okay, you can admit it," Buck says. "I'm a hunk. Lots of people are into my muscles."

"I've never even noticed your muscles," Eddie lies, turning away to put the cleaning supplies away. A warm hand spans the small of his back and he inhales, the sponges landing messily in their bucket. Slowly, he turns towards Buck, Buck's hand remaining on his back as he does. "We're at work," Eddie says. He can hear how unconvincing he sounds.

"Strong words, since I"m pretty you're the one who started this," Buck says.

"You definitely started it," Eddie says. He's drawing closer to Buck without, it seems, even moving, like he's getting pulled in by his gravity.

"Yeah, today. Not the other times," Buck says. "And besides, I only made a move today because I could see how you were looking at me."

"How was I looking at you?" Eddie says.

"You know," Buck says. "All dark and broody bedroom eyes." He does a ridiculous imitation that makes him look constipated.

Eddie rolls his eyes. "There were no bedroom eyes."

"I think there were," Buck says, and fuck, he's so close. The warmth of him, his arm around Eddie, that hand still on the small of Eddie's back.

Eddie feels almost dizzy. He can't think. He ducks his head as much as he can with the limited space. "I, uh," he mumbles, no idea what he's going to say, and the alarm goes.

Buck curses quietly, but doesn't hesitate. As they leave, he looks at Eddie with a little rueful twist of his mouth. Eddie, watching him, crashes into Hen.

"Checking Buck's inventory?" Hen says. Chimney gives her a passing high five.

 

5.

Christopher and Buck talk on the phone for an hour, a conversation that Eddie doesn't bother to follow. He lies on Christopher's bed, eyes closed, and lets it wash over him. Christopher, bright and happy and laughing. Buck, always interested, never humoring him. He falls into a light doze like that.

"Dad," Christopher says loudly, some amount of time later.

"Whzzt," Eddie slurs, half asleep. He wakes up with a jolt as his phone lands, hard, on his sternum. "Fucking ow."

"Sorry!" Christopher says, giggling at his cursing.

"Sounds like someone owes money to the swear jar," Buck says in a chiding tone.

"We don't have a swear jar," Eddie says, pulling himself upright.

"Yeah, you'd have no money left for anything else," Buck says. "Guttermouth."

"There's no way you just called me that," Eddie says. He raises his eyebrows at Christopher, motioning for him to put away his school supplies.

"You earned the title," Buck says. Eddie rolls his eyes. "Don't roll your eyes at me."

Christopher bursts out laughing. "You got him," he says.

"Okay, okay, say goodnight, Buck," Eddie says, unable to repress his smile.

"Goodnight, Buck," Christopher and Buck say simultaneously.

"Christ," Eddie says. "Go brush your teeth, kid."

Even after Christopher is ready for bed, and then in bed, and after Eddie reads him a story and closes his bedroom door for the night, Buck is still there on the phone.

"Hey," Eddie says, sinking down into the couch.

"Hey," Buck says.

There's a long moment of silence. Eddie doesn't know what to say.

"Sooo," Buck says after a moment. "What are you wearing?"

Eddie huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."

"Wait, I know this," Buck says. Eddie can hear him shifting around. "I saw you this morning. You're wearing jeans and a t-shirt."

"I put on a flannel, too," Eddie says. "Sexy, right?"

"Very sexy," Buck says. "But I bet it'd look better on my floor."

"There's no way that line actually works," Eddie says, rolling his eyes at the empty room.

"It's worked more than never," Buck says. "But mostly you're just cute when you're all exasperated like that."

"I'm not, " Eddie says, "cute."

"That's like, the cutest thing you could say in response to that," Buck says. "You know when else you're cute?"

Eddie kind of wants to argue the point, that cute is for like, kittens and rainbows. But he'd like to know the answer more, so he says, "When?"

Buck laughs, then says, "Right after you kiss me. Or after I kiss you. You look so...like you can't even believe yourself. Or maybe like you can't believe how much you liked it."

Eddie swallows hard, maybe loud enough for Buck to hear over the phone. "Buck." He's getting too hot, the back of his neck, he can't think. He tugs his flannel off, tossing it at the nearby chair.

"What?" Buck says with a smile in his voice. His voice gets low, not soft, but deeper, dragging. "Do you want me to stop?"

"I want you to tell me," Eddie says, "what you're wearing." He drops his head into his free hand, shaking it. It's just absurd, is what this is, how much he likes this human golden retriever. How he can feel himself swelling up a little from being told he's cute just because it's Buck saying it in that fucking voice.

"Shorts," Buck says.

"That's all?" Eddie says.

"Yeah," Buck says. "I think you're a little overdressed, Eddie. You should get that flannel off."

"Oh, uh. It's off. I got too hot."

"Hmm," Buck says. "Guess it'll have to be your shirt, then."

Fuck. "Hold on," Eddie says. "Gotta move out of the living room." He drops his phone into his back pocket and relocates to his room, closing the door behind him. Stripping out of his t-shirt, he lies back with his phone. On second thought, he takes it off speakerphone and holds it to his ear. "Okay."

"You took it off?"

"Yeah."

"Nice," Buck says appreciatively. More shifting sounds. Buck clears his throat before he says, "Eddie."

"Yeah?" Eddie says.

"Are you hard?" Buck says.

"Am I - " Eddie says, caught off guard. He closes his eyes. "Yeah. I am. Are you - "

"Yes," Buck says. Eddie's free hand slips down, rubbing his cock through his jeans, and he bites his lip with the relief and pleasure of it. "You get me hot. You always have."

"Always?" Eddie toys with the button on his jeans. "Pretty sure that's not true."

"I'm pretty sure that if you'd told me to get on my knees, your first shift? I would have done it."

Eddie swallows, swallows, grinds up into his own hand. "Wish I'd known. I wouldn't have had to put so much effort into making friends - not that it worked, took a grenade for you to stop acting like I was on your territory."

"So why did you? Put in the effort?" Buck hitches a little breath. "I was an asshole."

"I wanted you to like me," Eddie says. He winces, bites his lip like he can take those too-revealing words back, even as he presses harder on his cock.

Buck laughs breathlessly. "I like you," he says.

"And then, that fire - where we got there just for the cleanup, remember?"

"Yeah, Eddie," Buck says affectionately. "I remember when you kissed me for the first time."

"I didn't know I was gonna," Eddie says. "Didn't know why I did it, maybe even til after we got dosed - you just looked so fucking - beautiful - and I just had to touch you - "

"Eddie," Buck says. The phone picks up other sounds, him moving around, shifting, little half-swallowed sounds. And in the background, that rhythmic, wet sound.

"Oh, fuck," Eddie says, breathless, and fumbles the button on his jeans open, jerks the zipper down. Shoves his hand into his boxers and strokes his cock. His eyes practically roll back with the relief of touching himself

"Do you even know," Buck says, "Eddie, do you even know how much I thought about that afterwards? Do you know how much I've thought about you?"

"Tell me," Eddie gasps. "Tell me what you thought about."

"I thought about blowing you after your first shift, I wasn't kidding," Buck says. "I was pissed off, like, why am I thinking about this? At home, in bed, and all I could think about was going down on my knees, getting you in my mouth, god, Eddie, it made me so fucking hard, you're so fucking hot."

"Ohhfuck," Eddie chokes. Buck laughs. "If you'd offered - there's no way I would have turned you down. Probably would have come in about two seconds, too."

"Yeah," Buck says, breathy. "Yeah, yeah."

"God, you made me so hard when you kissed me the other day," Eddie says, words tripping over each other, his hand speeding up. "Up against the truck at fucking work and if Chimney hadn't come by I don't know what I'd've - you make me so crazy, Buck, you make me do things I never - " He's moaning, can't say another word, it feels too fucking good and he's struggling to stay quiet.

"I shouldn't have, I just couldn't not," Buck says, god, his voice sounds like it's dropped an octave. "Love seeing you like that. Love seeing you lose control. Because of me."

"Buck," Eddie whines. He trembles, arching into his strokes, god, it feels so, so - "I'm, Buck, I'm gonna - "

"Fuck," Buck says, voice gravelly, panting in Eddie's ear. "God. You're gonna make me come, Eddie."

Eddie's cock twitches in his grasp and his hips lift, shoving into his hand, he's pushing his ear hard against the phone as if he can get closer to Buck, and he's coming, fuck, moaning loud enough that he has to shove his face into the pillows. Buck gasps in his ear, breath hitching, and makes a sound like oh, high and lost. Eddie's still coming, and he moans again and again into his pillow, so caught up in it that he can't hold back.

"Oh my god," Buck gasps in between heaving breaths.

They're both silent for a little bit. Eddie pulls his hand out of his come-soaked boxer briefs, wiping it carelessly on his thigh.

"God," Eddie says eventually. He's feeling pensive now, a little melancholy. They've taken things beyond plausible deniability and flirting. Beyond a few undiscussed kisses. It all seems more complicated now.

"You okay?" Buck says. He pauses. "Should I not - was that too far?"

"No," Eddie says. He sighs. "It's just. Buck."

"Eddie," Buck says. "What is it?"

"This is real," Eddie says, tumbling into what he wants to say. "Right?"

"I - I hope so, Eddie," Buck says. "I want that."

"Me too," Eddie says. He thinks about his parents in Texas, the divorce papers finalized a bare six months ago, of awakening, shaking and sweating, from nightmares of bleeding out thousands of miles away. "I'm just. Buck, there's a lot you don't know about me. I have baggage."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, too," Buck says. "Eddie, you don't need to give me a disclaimer. I know there's a lot left to learn about you." He pauses. "I'm counting on it."

"Okay," Eddie says. God, he's tired, a blissful, velvet exhaustion. He yawns, eyes drifting closed.

"Go to bed, Grandpa," Buck says.

"I'm in bed," Eddie mumbles. "It's not that early."

"It is 9 P.M.," Buck says, such fondness in his voice. "I bet Christopher is still up reading."

"What can I say," Eddie says. "Wore me out."

Buck laughs. "It's what I do, baby."

"Mmm," Eddie says, agreeing, he thinks, but he's swimming in the fog of sleep now, just barely clinging to the waking world. There's something, though, something he wants to tell Buck. "Buck. I think I..."

"What?" Buck says, hushed. "What, Eddie?"

But Eddie's too deep now, too deep in the fog with that velvet weight on him, and he's asleep before he can answer. But, he thinks, his last conscious thought before sleep takes over, it's okay. He can tell Buck tomorrow. He can tell Buck every day from now on.