pairofraggedclaws

Title: pang
Fandom: 9-1-1
Rating: E
Word count: 4347
Characters/pairings: Buck/Eddie
Summary: Mustache shaving, feelings, and fucking.

Buck is the only person who gets to see Eddie like this. And Eddie’s done the work. He’s done the therapy, unpacked the baggage, shed tears in front of his damn father. He’s told his friends how much he loves them, and taught his son a better way to be a man. He got a handle on his anger. He learned to say when he was sad. Still. Like this, with his eyes red and his nose running, barely making sense as he says every broken thought in his mind; only Buck can see this.

Eddie paces in front of Buck as he talks, waving his hands around. He says a lot of things. He says, “I thought Christopher would be back by now,” and Buck says, “Me too.” He says, “I want to shove my mom into fucking traffic,” and Buck doesn’t say he does too, but his eyes say it. He says, “There is something seriously fucking wrong with me,” and Buck is shaking his head before Eddie even finishes the sentence.

“N-no, Eddie, there’s nothing,” Buck reaches up to him from his seat, grabbing his hands as he passes, “there’s nothing wrong with you. Seriously.”

“Do I need to remind you about the whole “doppelganger of my wife” thing?”

“That was a little messed up,” Buck says. “Okay, it wasn’t great. But, but that’s like, a once in a lifetime thing.”

Eddie needs his hands back to wipe tears off his face. He wipes his nose on his sleeve while he’s at it.

“Ew, dude.” Buck stands, collaring him. “Come on.”

“I’ve seen you wipe your nose on an old sock,” Eddie says, relaxing as Buck drags him along. Through a force of habit he wishes he didn’t have, he lets his eyes pass over Christopher’s room without looking too closely.

“Years ago, before I matured,” Buck says.

“Oh,” Eddie laugh-cries, “you’re mature now?”

“I am a whole adult with back problems,” Buck says. They’ve arrived at the bathroom and Buck makes Eddie sit on the closed toilet. “And I know you’re gonna be grossed out by that later. So blow your nose and gimme your shirt. I’ll get you a new one.”

“I can get a shirt,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to do it for me.”

“Apparently you can’t even get a tissue,” Buck says. When Eddie looks up, betrayed, Buck shoves a handful of Kleenex into his face until Eddie takes it from him. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie blows his nose, a few times, disposing of the evidence before Buck gets back with a clean shirt.

“I just don’t understand,” Eddie says for the fifth time this evening. “I don’t get why she’d do that.”

“I don’t know, Eddie,” Buck says with a sigh. “I wish she hadn’t. This could all...this could have been so much simpler.”

“I would never have said yes, but she had Christopher outta here like…” Eddie snaps his fingers. “I was freaking out. I was barely thinking straight.”

“You weren’t thinking straight.” Buck twists the clean shirt around in his hands. “You didn’t get any sleep, you were...I...I don’t know the word for what you were. They took advantage.”

“I think my mom said something to Christopher,” Eddie says. “One-on-one. And I think she told my dad her own version of things. I blame him for a lot of things, but not for this. He’s the one who bothers to let me know how Christopher’s even doing.” By the end of that, he’s crying again. He feels wretched, like he’s been beat up and he’s got a miserable cold and he’s lying in an alleyway in the rain. He just wants Christopher. He wants him here, now.

“Oh, Eddie - “ Buck is kneeling down now, pulling Eddie close. He wraps Eddie up the way he is, face buried in his shaking hands, and lets Eddie cry into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says after a while. His arms are wound around Buck now, pressing himself as close as humanly possible. Buck’s so solid, so comforting.

“Please don’t be sorry,” Buck says. His fingers are in Eddie’s hair. Then there’s the sound of a ringtone and his hands withdraw. “Fuck. One second.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie says. He’s all cried out, and his head feels like it’s floating away. He sits and watches Buck leave the room. Eventually, he grabs some tissues and blows his nose some more, then spots the dried snot on his sleeve and grimaces in disgust, shedding the shirt and tossing it on the floor. Buck’s taken the clean one with him, and Eddie could get a new one from his room. But he wants the one Buck got him.

“Sorry about that,” Buck says. He’s leaning against the doorframe, mouth pinched.

“Everything okay?” Eddie says. His voice is shockingly ruined, even after clearing his throat a couple times.

“Yeah, uh. Kinda.” Buck sighs when Eddie raises his eyebrows. “Nothing bad, really. It was Tommy, uh, wanting to drop off some stuff of mine. We, we broke up.”

“Buck,” Eddie says. “When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Couple days ago. I didn’t...I was working out how I felt about it.” Buck sits on the edge of the tub with a sigh.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “How do you feel about it? Do I need to snap his neck or something?”

“Thank you for the offer,” Buck says dryly. “I think I’m okay. It never got that intense between us. I liked him, but...I don’t know if it was more than that.”

“Still. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

“Seriously, I’m gonna worry about it. I’m always gonna care what happens to you, Buck.” Eddie nudges his shoulder into Buck’s.

“Fine, asshole,” Buck says, nudging him back harder.

It’s quiet, but Eddie can hear both their breathing with extreme clarity, and behind Buck, the bathtub faucet drips just intermittently enough for Eddie to hope it’s stopped for good every single time. Christopher’s toothbrush is on the sink, exactly where Christopher left it; he didn’t take it with him. Eddie’s mom had assured Eddie that they could get Christopher anything he needed. In the faucet of the sink, a distorted version of Eddie stares back at him, red-eyed and mustached.

“I grew this stupid mustache,” Eddie says.

“Hm?” Buck says.

“I grew a stupid fucking mustache,” Eddie says. “I wanted to change things. Change myself. But I – but I was just pretending. What did I grow this stupid thing for? I hate it, everyone hates it.”

“Not everyone,” Buck says.

“Everyone except Chimney,” Eddie says. He slumps back, lets the wall support his head. “I just wanted to be someone else, but I...I’m still me. Fucking...it was just a lie.”

“You’re always you,” Buck says, as if it’s that simple. “You can just shave it off, you know. Or you can keep it if you like it.”

“I don’t hate it. But it’s a lot of work,” Eddie says. “Plus Gerrard likes it, so.”

“So shave it,” Buck says. “I’ll do it if you want.”

Eddie’s eyes are closed at this point. “Yeah. Good. You do it. Go.”

“What – right now?”

“Everything’s in the cabinet,” Eddie says.

“Um, okay,” Buck says, and rummaging sounds follow. “There’s no way you actually use a straight razor.”

“It was a present,” Eddie says. “I learned how and now I use it, yes.”

“You know, this isn’t really the best kind of shaving cream, especially with a straight razor. You want the kind you use with a shaving brush.”

“Do you...also use a straight razor?” Eddie says. “I guess I should’ve seen that coming.”

“I don’t use one, but I watched a Youtube video.” The water runs. “Are you sure? The mustache is unharmed so far.”

“Harm it,” Eddie says. “Murder it.”

“Okay,” Buck says in a judgmental tone.

“I’m murdering my illusions about myself but I can’t do that until you murder the mustache,” Eddie says. He’s rambling again.

“You can stop talking now,” Buck says. “Just so I don’t stab you on accident.”

“Stopping,” Eddie says.

Buck hesitates. “I should probably do your whole face. Or it’ll be uneven.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. There’s the sound of Buck dispensing shaving cream into his hand, and Eddie doesn’t flinch as Buck lathers him up.

“Don’t move,” Buck whispers.

Cold metal on his face, near his mouth. Eddie’s seen Buck shave; he starts around his mouth, gets the most finicky areas first. Eddie pretty much just goes from left to right. Buck goes for the mustache first, rips off the bandaid and leaves the skin weirdly sensitive after so long being shielded from the open air. Fingers under his jaw tilt Eddie’s head back, and the gentle scrape of the razor continues down, over the corners of his mouth, his chin. Buck’s fingers turn him to the left, now, and Buck starts on his cheek, by his ear.

Buck’s good at this. Eddie cut himself quite a few times before he got the handle of angling the razor just right, but Buck’s deft with it, careful but sure. Eddie opens his eyes, the bathroom swimming into focus.

“Almost done,” Buck says, voice a low distracted rumble. He turns Eddie’s face to get his other cheek, and Eddie watches him, the way his eyes are focused and intense, the way he breathes evenly. Eddie can feel that his hands are rock steady.

Then Buck’s rinsing the razor in the sink, and Eddie blinks himself back into the present moment.

“There,” Buck says, with a distracted smile, and he’s still got the razor in his hand when he kisses Eddie. Eddie leans into it, accepting it without thinking. Then he thinks.

“Buck,” he says, pulling back with an effort. His eyes trace Buck's face, familiar and new at the same time.

“You know why I broke up with Tommy?” Buck says.

“I don’t,” Eddie says. He might be in a trance. Buck has drugged him with his lips.

“Because of this,” Buck says. “Because of us.”

“Us?” The word has an attractive sound to it. “We’ve never...we’ve always been friends.”

“Yeah, friends who use each other as emergency contact numbers and put each other in their wills,” Buck says. “Tommy said it felt like sharing me.”

“I don’t like sharing either,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, well, looks like you don’t have to.” Buck strokes the bare skin above Eddie’s lip. “Gotta say. I’ll kind of miss the mustache.”

“You liked it?” Eddie says with maximum betrayal. “You’re gonna tell me that after I shaved it?”

“I shaved it.”

“You’re gonna tell me that after you shaved it?”

“Eddie. You were literally just saying you wanted it gone. You were upset! Yeah, it was hot, but you’re hot without it too.” Buck’s thumb on his philtrum, on the tingling fresh-shaven skin there. “A-and now you look like yourself.” His voice drops, intensity or shyness or both. “You look like my Eddie.”

Eddie throws himself physically at Buck. The razor clatters to the floor, Buck’s hands occupied, and his surprised laugh disappears against Eddie’s lips, except that Eddie can feel it. Eddie can feel him, all of him. He’s going a little crazy, he thinks. He tilts Buck’s head back, his hands moving feverishly from Buck’s jaw to his hair to his neck. Maybe Eddie hasn’t been touched in weeks, or months. Maybe Eddie’s been dying a little, alone in his silent house.

Buck gets enough distance to say breathlessly, “Enjoy being taller while it lasts, dude.”

It lasts about three seconds more until Buck stands up, dragging Eddie with him, and then, fuck, Eddie’s really enjoying not being taller. He feels like fucking Thumbelina, cradled in the palm of Buck’s hand. That’s being like, a few inches shorter than Buck. Taylor had to have been a foot shorter – and Eddie goes hot all over, thinking of Buck towering over him like that.

“What’re you thinking about?” Buck says.

“Hm? Nothing,” Eddie says as Buck reels him in. Buck’s thumb strokes the sensitive skin behind his ear, which turns out to operate a mechanism that erases his ability to filter his thoughts. “You really are bigger than me.” That should be embarrassing, but Eddie’s looking at Buck dead on, stroking his biceps to make his meaning clear, and he gets to see the way Buck smiles.

“You, uh. You like it? Tommy said –“ Buck presses Eddie to his chest when he growls. “ - Tommy said it was, uh. Well, he didn’t actually say it was too much – he just said I didn’t have to try so hard or something.”

“That’s mean,” Eddie says into Buck’s shirt.

“He didn’t say it like that. It was more like, I don’t know, he’s dated guys who feel like they have to compete with the other guy, be in the same kind of shape as them.”

“You’re not,” Eddie says. “You’re better.” He gestures to explain that while Tommy is in great shape, obviously, and looks like a sort of genial refrigerator, in a good way, a handsome refrigerator, Buck is something gorgeous. Buck is like – a brick wall with gorgeous blue eyes. Buck’s like – and Eddie gives up the gesturing, which is behind Buck’s back anyway, and squeezes at Buck’s hips, the flesh there, holds Buck still so Eddie can grind into him, show him how much he is enjoying Buck’s physiology.

Buck groans, and Tommy can’t hear him, and Eddie can.

Buck kisses with an unbearable slowness. If Eddie pictured the way Buck kisses before today, it was something like a hurricane, bluster and intensity and flash-burning heat. This is – not that. It’s languid, it’s soft, and it’s making Eddie harder than any high-speed makeout session ever has. He can’t get enough air. There isn’t enough air in the world.

Not here, pressed into the wall like this. Buck’s not trapping him, but Eddie would be fine with it if he were. On the other hand, there’s a bed six feet away.

Eddie pushes Buck a little. “Not done with you,” Buck says with a lethal flutter of his eyelashes, and Eddie needs the wall to hold him up because Buck did not shift even an inch. Not even a millimeter. Buck’s kissing him again and this time every time there’s a soft flicker of his tongue in Eddie’s mouth, Eddie’s struggling to hold back from moaning.

Buck pulls away, keeping Eddie against the wall with his hands on his shoulders. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Eddie says, chest heaving. “What?”

“You like it,” Buck says. “Like, like it.”

“Probably,” Eddie says. “But what do you mean?” Oh, there’s Buck, there’s all of him, and Eddie tilts his head for a kiss that doesn’t come. Eddie, showing great restraint, doesn’t stomp his foot like a toddler. Every time his chest heaves, his nipples brush the fabric of Buck’s shirt. Never putting on a clean shirt, that was good. Buck wearing a shirt, less good.

“That I’m bigger than you,” Buck says, and gives him a soft kiss. “Taller.” Kiss. “Stronger.”

“Ehh,” Eddie says noncommittally, weak in the knees. “You’re not stronger.”

Buck’s hands don’t move from Eddie’s shoulders but now they’re hard, arms locked. Eddie bites his lip and blue fire arcs in Buck’s eyes. “So it’s like that, huh,” Buck says.

“Um,” Eddie says in genuine confusion, head muddled. “I don’t. Uh, it’s like what?”

“This,” Buck breathes against his lips – and doesn’t kiss him. Eddie leans in to meet him, only he doesn’t, because he can’t fucking move. Buck’s got him pinned. Trapped.

Eddie huffs a breath – he’s still out of breath – and says, “Don’t be immature.”

“Oh, is that what I’m being?” Buck says, with amusement. Eddie’s gotta – he has to – he reaches for himself, just a squeeze, just a press of his hand, just to relieve some pressure – but Buck catches his hand. Buck catches both his hands and pins them to the wall above Eddie’s head.

“Buck,” Eddie pants.

“Yeah,” Buck says, and he’s on Eddie, all fucking over him. Eddie’s moaning like he can’t help it, not that he’s trying to stop, and he’s grinding against Buck. He wants to pull Buck to him, he wants to touch him all over, but Buck hasn’t given his hands back and he’s only getting what Buck gives him. The thought by itself makes him shiver and jerk against Buck.

“Okay. Fuck.” Buck pulls back, forehead to Eddie’s. “Do you, uh. Have lube?”

“Ah,” Eddie gasps. “Yeah. The drawer, the nightstand drawer.”

Buck lets go of him then, and Eddie soothes his mourning with a quick grind of his palm to his erection. Or a few quick grinds – and when Buck turns around, Eddie’s still palming himself. Buck doesn’t say a word, but he’s looking at Eddie absolutely ravenously.

“You’re way too dressed,” Buck says.

Eddie strips, but Buck doesn’t. He spins Eddie around and drapes himself over Eddie’s back, hard cock pressing against Eddie’s lower back through his pants, pushes Eddie flat against the wall. Eddie shivers and his toes twitch; the wall feels ice-cold pressed against his entire front. Against his cock, blood-hot, the wall feels like it’s positively burning him with cold.

The click of the bottle opening, and Buck kisses his shoulder when he starts pressing a finger inside. It goes the way it goes, a little ache at first and then the movement starts and Eddie can’t stay quiet; he actually is trying now, to be quiet, or at least quieter, but getting fingered is one of those things that Eddie gets overwhelmed by, even when it’s not Buck’s fingers inside him.

So Eddie’s biting at his lips to try and keep the noise down, and Buck’s kissing his shoulders and the nape of his neck, and then click goes the bottle again and Buck comes back with two fingers. Once they’re inside him, Eddie’s got no hope of reining himself in. He loses his ability to fully support himself, and he’s slumped against the wall, trying to hold on to nothing, held up only by Buck’s weight behind him. It’s not the most comfortable for his cock, but that’s a secondary concern right now, because there’s a tremor starting in his calves from how fucking good he feels. It feels good and then Buck does a deliberate little crook of his fingers, and Eddie’s swearing and arching back to try and get more, more, more. Buck laughs wonderingly.

“You look like you’re having trouble standing up,” Buck says.

“Mhm,” Eddie says. He nods, too, because it deserves saying twice: he is having trouble standing up. Fortunately, there’s a big, comfy bed literally right there – but Buck’s not letting him move. Buck’s turning him again, wall against his back now, which is great, more comfortable, but not doing much to hold him up.

“Let me help you with that,” Buck says. He’s unzipping his pants, shoving them down with his boxers to sag somewhere around his knees, and stroking lube onto his cock. He wipes lube off onto his shirt, and then his hands are on Eddie’s thighs. Eddie’s just a tiny (minescule) bit out of it still, and the next thing he knows, his back is against the wall a significant bit higher, and Buck’s cock is nudging at his hole.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie says, and then, “Oh fuck,” because Buck’s lowering him down onto his cock, making Eddie’s mouth fall open and his head loll, lost in the feeling of it.

“You’re – so – fucking hot,” Buck gasps, and Eddie moans, so full of Buck he doesn’t actually have room for thoughts anymore. It takes a moment to adjust, and that’s when Eddie realizes he really can’t do anything to move himself, due to gravity. He squirms, just a little shift of weight that feels good, but he really actually needs to be fucked now, like now.

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie pants.

“More like come inside, Buck,” Buck says with an absolutely shit-eating grin

“Funny,” Eddie says. He digs his fingernails in, not hard, just enough to draw white lines up Buck’s neck that fade instantly. Buck closes his eyes, shuddering. “Sounds great, if you’ll just f –“ Buck lifts him, still with seemingly zero effort, and Eddie loses the rest of the sentence. When Buck lowers him back down, agonizingly slowly, Eddie’s eyes roll back into his head.

“Like that?” Buck says, like he doesn’t know.

“Yes, anything, please just,” Eddie moans as Buck does it again, a little faster, and again. “Fuck, what kind of workouts are you doing?”

“You’re my favorite exercise machine,” Buck says, and laughs breathlessly. “But, uh, we should probably take it to the bed.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and he can feel Buck’s arms tremble slightly this time as he lifts Eddie off his cock and brings him back down to the floor. Then Buck has to catch him as his knees give out.

“Wait until I’m done with you,” Buck says with a laugh.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, pushing Buck’s hands away, and is in the process of getting on the bed when Buck slaps his ass. “Hey.”

“Whoops,” Buck says, crawling on top of Eddie, pants abandoned somewhere on the floor.

“Whoops my ass,” Eddie mutters.

“Yeah, exactly,” Buck says. “Whoops, your ass.”

“Speaking of my ass,” Eddie says, spreading his legs to make room for Buck.

“Right,” Buck says, and lines himself up. Eddie can’t help clenching against the tip of Buck’s cock, nudging against him. “You really want it, huh.”

“Yeah, so what,” Eddie snaps, and Buck bursts out in a warm, huge laugh before he kisses Eddie, and Eddie’s got more to say but Buck thrusts back inside him and Eddie’s not doing anything other than moaning with his head thrown back against the pillows. Then Buck pins his hands to the bed and Eddie’s eyes fly open.

Buck makes a sound like a snarl, thrusting faster, a ravenous look in his eyes, and Eddie’s thrusting up to meet him, pushing up against Buck’s hands to feel the way he can’t get him to move even a tiny bit. He’d actually really like to touch himself, if he could, his cock is absolutely aching, but the way he can’t, the way Buck’s holding him still even as he squirms and whimpers and begs him with his eyes, is making heat build up in his belly anyway. Eddie whimpers again, with something like disappointment, when Buck lets go of his hands to reposition himself slightly, but the way the angle changes when Buck starts fucking him again makes him forget anything else. Like they’re still trapped, like he’s been told what to do, his hands stay pretty much where they were, grasping weakly at the sheets for something to hold onto.

Eddie moans with every thrust, high, shivering moans, and then Buck’s moaning with him, and kissing him, sort of. When Eddie feels Buck’s cock jerking inside him he remembers he has control of his hands again, and he gets a fumbling grip of himself a second before he comes. He doesn’t really stroke, even, just squeezes himself hard as his hole shudders around Buck and he shoots all over Buck’s belly and chest.

They breathe together like that for quite a while, breaths slowing. Eddie dozes off, just the tiniest little bit, and wakes up to the feeling of Buck pulling out of him. He makes a dissatisfied sound and Buck kisses him.

His footsteps leave the room and Eddie dozes again. Then Buck is back and Eddie, half-asleep, curls into him.

“You’re a lot more cuddly than I would’ve imagined,” Buck says quietly, petting his hair.

“You’re warm,” Eddie says.

“Thanks, I have blood,” Buck says, cracking up when Eddie sits half up to glare sleepily at him for a second. When Eddie lies back down, he wraps an arm around him. “So, do you feel like things are clearer in a post-mustache world?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, smiling against Buck’s chest.

“With Christopher, I mean,” Buck says, sounding like he’s smiling too.

“Oh.” Eddie thinks for a minute. “Yeah. I think I decided, fuck my mom. She doesn’t get to decide this shit, right? I want to go get him. He can be mad at me here.”

“That sounds great,” Buck says. “When do we leave?”

“How’s next week?” Eddie says.

“Cool,” Buck says. He kisses the top of Eddie’s head. Eddie makes an annoyed noise, wiggling closer. “I’m gonna have to amp up my workouts.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “How strong do you want to be? You proved you’re stronger than me, you held me up against the wall and fucked me, you don’t need to be stronger to impress me.”

“I never said it was to impress you,” Buck says. Eddie waits him out for about ten seconds, and he says, “Fine, maybe it was. I only fucked you against the wall for like, three minutes!”

“Buck, I don’t think I’ve been with someone who could even pick me up at all in like fifteen years. Plus, too much wall fucking is just asking for a sex injury. And you know what happens then.”

“We somehow draw Maddie when we call 911 and she dispatches the 118,” Buck says.

“Right. And then they’d in here and have to assess the dick injury that you got while fucking me through the wall,” Eddie says.

“I mean, except for Gerrard, they all know way worse things about me. It wouldn’t be that big a deal.”

“Yeah, maybe for you. I’d probably just like, die. They would walk in and I would cease to exist instantaneously, I’d just disappear,” Eddie says.

“Fine, you baby,” Buck says.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“What worse stuff do they know about you?” Eddie says. “Why don’t I know it?”

“You never met Buck 1.0,” Buck says.

“Hmm,” Eddie says. “Starting to feel like I missed out.”

Buck kisses the top of his head again. Eddie is melting. “I’ll introduce you one of these days.”