[fic] inventing June 6/6

[pairofraggedclaws]

Previous chapter

When the thought won’t go away, Eddie runs through the logic in his head. He’s got a crush on Buck, he can admit that. Butterflies in his stomach, the whole nine yards. And there’s a lot of...history there, between them, and they’re best friends. So of course that question would put him on his back foot.

He’s distracted through dinner, and doesn’t bother to stop Christopher from seizing the opportunity to read at the table. When he goes to sleep, he dreams; not about Buck, exactly, but wherever he goes, Buck is nearby. Sitting and watching him. Passing by on the street. Walking out the door.

The next morning, he’s nervous, frenetic energy making it impossible to keep still. Maybe this is how Buck feels every second of the day. He sees Christopher off to school and blunders through grocery shopping.

Maybe it’s this, Eddie reasons, unpacking groceries: he does love – care about Buck. Buck is important to him, and to Christopher.

But if he did love Buck…

The thought is like fifty thousand volts to the chest. Eddie blindly shoves the rest of the groceries into cabinets and redirects his energy into cleaning his house. It’s fine, he decides, vacuuming frantically. It’s just a thought.

He doesn’t – feel that way.

But if he did…

Eddie drags out the mower, runs it over the lawn, even the parts he usually puts off because they’re annoying and out of the way. Grass-stained and sweaty, he gets the trash and recycling out to the curb. So it’s a day early, whatever, now he won’t have to remember to put them out tomorrow.

The thought’s still there in his head, reverberating echoes.

He goes for a run. If, if, if, every footstep whispers. Eddie runs harder than he should, the way it fucks with his knees, until he can’t catch his breath and his thighs are burning, and the thought is still there. This stupid idea, he can’t – it’s like putting his hand on a hot stove, he keeps poking at it even though he doesn’t -

He can’t –

He could, he could, but he doesn’t.

Eddie slows to an even pace, and the second his mind relaxes into that open, meditative state he gets when he runs, a mental picture illuminates itself: him and Buck after the well, when Eddie was trying to put into words the glowing realization he came to underwater, and Buck’s face, instead of falling into blank stillness, melting into shock and joy.

“Shut up,” Eddie mutters aloud, and speeds up again.

Buck’s arm around him, sitting on the couch next to him. Buck grinning at him across the firehouse. Buck in the other room with Christopher, playing video games with him and laughing. Each image hits him like an electric shock, and Eddie runs harder, faster.

Eventually he can’t run anymore. He sits on a low wall and gasps air, ragged, tearing breaths that eventually slow. Like it’s been waiting for a still moment, his mind throws one last image at him.

Buck, of course. Looking at Eddie the way he used to, a look that meant he was about to kiss him. But instead of kissing him, he just says, affectionate and amused, Eddie. I love you.

Nope, nope, land of a thousand nopes. Eddie takes off running again.

 

The issue does not, as Eddie hoped it would, resolve itself. He’s still fixating on it when his next shift comes. He can’t act remotely close to normal around Buck, and he could blame Taylor fucking Kelly for that, and he does. Being within five feet of the man makes Eddie feel like he’s being shoved into an electric fence. When the B-shift probie says the word (Eddie refuses to say “the Q-word” even in his mind. It’s too dumb.), Eddie could kiss him on the mouth. If it’s about to be a horrible shift, Eddie will take it. He will happily take it.

But also, curses aren’t real. Hexes aren’t real. Jinxes aren’t real. Even though, yeah, it’s kind of a chaotic shift –

There’s a jolt and a shower of sparks, and Eddie snaps out of it.

“Cap?” Chimney says from outside, sounding nothing short of delighted. “Did a live power pole just fall on the engine and trap Buck and Eddie inside?”

“I believe it did, Chimney,” Bobby says in the tone of someone desperately trying not to laugh.

“Guys?” It’s Hen. “We’re calling for help. Just don’t touch anything. Don’t move.”

“No shit, Hen,” Buck says under his breath.

“Thanks, Hen,” Eddie calls. “Who’re you texting?”

“Maddie and Josh,” Buck says. He squints at his phone. “You don’t have a bell, do you?”

“Yeah, I always bring a bell with me on calls,” Eddie says, and Buck gives him a wide-eyed, hopeful look that Eddie has to look away from, for his own sanity. “Of course I don’t have a bell, Buck! What are you talking about?”

“I wanna lift the jinx that is clearly on us,” Buck says.

“This is ridiculous,” Eddie says. “You sound like my abuela’s neighbor’s curandera.”

“Do you have her number? Does she know about jinxes?”

“Dude. It’s a bad day. Not a jinx. Do you hear yourself right now?”

Buck throws his phone down in annoyance. “Do you? It’s like the universe is screaming at you and you refuse to notice.”

There’s fire in Buck’s eyes and he’s looming close to Eddie, and there are certain things Eddie knows so well they might as well be engraved on his fucking bones. How to stand straight and salute. Cleaning a wound, bandaging it, assessing a patient. The way Christopher breathes when he’s asleep, and the way he breathes when he’s faking being asleep.

And another thing: Buck. His body, Eddie knows with incredible familiarity, the feel of it, the shape, the size, the heft; the sensitive places, the ones that make Buck moan, the ones that make him laugh. Eddie knows the way Buck sometimes sighs when he’s kissed, like it’s a relief; and Eddie knows just where his hands fit on Buck. Eddie knows how to make him come, and what he sounds like when he does.

Eddie needs to get out of this fucking fire truck.

“The universe,” he says weakly, “does not scream.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Buck says, and the next second, his head falls onto Eddie’s shoulder as he slouches down next to him.

“Um,” Eddie says, high-pitched. “What.”

“I’m taking a nap,” Buck says, and within a minute he’s snoring softly. It’s a gift that Buck has. Eddie can’t go to sleep, because he needs to stay focused on keeping his hands out of Buck’s hair and away from Buck’s hands and just. To himself.

He finds out he dozed off anyway when he’s startled awake by the sound of the pole getting lifted off the engine. He jostles his shoulder to wake Buck.

“Five more minutes, Maddie,” Buck mutters, adorably. Eddie jostles him harder; adorableness from Buck is exactly what he doesn’t need right now.

“Dude, come on,” he says, and Buck sits up, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“I was having a nice dream,” Buck says, pouting at him sleepily and opening one eye only, and Eddie thinks, I love you. No warning, just the fully-formed thought. He forgets to breathe, and then takes a too-fast breath and chokes on his own spit.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“We’re gonna – we’ve gotta – it’s time, and,” Eddie says, saying any sentence fragments that come to mind. “Um, wake up.”

Buck gives him a strange look, and Eddie’s heart pounds. “Guess you took a nap too, because that made zero sense,” Buck says.

“Mhm, nap,” Eddie says. Thinks, Oh God. Thinks, I love you, I love you, I love you.

By the time they’re able to exit the truck, Eddie is absolutely wrung out. Sitting alone with Buck trying not to say the only three words running through his mind should be an endurance sport.

He doesn’t say it. He manages that much. Not for the rest of the shift, not when Buck comes over to hang out, not at team brunch. He doesn’t say it; but he can hardly think anything else. Except that curses might actually be real, because what else can this be but a punishment? Eddie Diaz, once again fucking everything up, and for no reason at all.

Eddie could have had Buck. He could have. There’s not much point averting his eyes from the truth now his head’s been ripped out of the sand.

Eddie could’ve called Buck after their first night together instead of throwing his number in the trash. He could have made things official when they started fucking regularly. Buck would have wanted to, back then. Instead, like always, Eddie made every wrong choice possible. Ruined things between them, and he’s lucky they’re still even friends. But Eddie loves him –

(A dagger to the heart every time he thinks it.)

– and Buck doesn’t love him back. Game, set, match; Eddie played himself. It’s called being a fucking idiot. Maybe he’ll move on someday, right, people do that, but he can’t even imagine what that would be like. He can date that wing-flicker sensation in his chest that he’s now identified as love back to months ago at least. And Eddie could have had Buck like that, but now he can’t, so he’ll take what he can get and be happy with it. Being Buck’s best friend is pretty fucking good, even if it hurts too.

Eddie forgot one thing, though: he’s fucking cursed.

At least it’s by someone with a sense of humor. Literally their next shift at work – and Eddie’s given himself the two days in between to refuse hanging out, in order to try and get his head on straight – Buck sits down at the breakfast table and announces, “I am so fucking done with dating.”

He goes on to tell a story about Albert and a girl in his building who hates him, and Eddie would like to zone out for his own health and safety. Doesn’t, because Buck is his best friend and Eddie wants to know.

Buck talks about it more with Eddie later, at his house, on his couch, shoed foot bumping occasionally into Eddie’s. It’s a sign of how far they’ve come that Buck will talk about his dating life with Eddie, that’s what Eddie keeps reminding himself.

“Seriously, what is that face?” Buck asks. Eddie hastily tries for something neutral, and Buck’s eyes widen. “Jesus, dude.”

What the face is, is an internal battle, two doomed parts of Eddie facing off. One wants Buck to give up on dating so Eddie never has to see him with someone else, and at least if he isn’t with Eddie he won’t be with anyone. The other, hopeless fuck that it is, wants Buck to be happy, whatever that takes.

“She sounds like an asshole,” Eddie says, before Buck asks more questions. “Why do you care what someone like that thinks?”

“I just,” Buck says, and sighs. “It all seems so pointless, sometimes. Dating.”

The hopeless fuck in him wins out, and Eddie doesn’t reach out to touch Buck, there’s an invisible wall of his own making in place these days, but he says, “Come on, it’s not pointless. Dating this one girl, that might be pointless, but it sounds like she’s taken anyway.”

Buck groans and slumps, defeated. “Fucking Albert.”

“I’m sure that’s what Veronica – “ Eddie says, and laughs while Buck whales on him with a pillow. “Alright, alright, I think I have an idea to soothe your wounded ego.”

“What?” Buck asks, and Eddie goes to the kitchen to get them each a beer.

They still have movie nights with Christopher, they still hang out, they still spend all their time together at work. Eddie still goes stupid half the time when their eyes lock, butterflies when Buck smiles at him, but now there’s an ache in his chest that goes along with that kind of thing.

Eddie gets lunch with Shannon, they’ve been doing it every week or so, and she asks him about Buck, and he puts his head down on the table and laughs and laughs.

“Do you want some water,” she says after a while, and he says, “No,” muffled into the table.

She’s reading on her phone when he sits back up, squinting as his eyes adjust.

“You wanna talk about it?” Shannon asks, turning her screen off.

Eddie shakes his head, and then says, “It turns out. I might have a lot of feelings for Buck. Big feelings.”

“Right,” she says. He stares at her. “Oh. Shit. Sorry, I thought that was the setup to the story.”

Head back down to the table. Shannon pats his shoulder gently.

“How did you know before I did,” Eddie says, next time he sits up.

“I mean...you were just very…” She waves her hands vaguely. “Very Eddie about him.”

“Helpful,” Eddie says, and orders a milkshake the next time their waiter goes by, he deserves it, then another for Shannon when her eyes light up.

“Anyway, was I supposed to be helpful?” Shannon says. She’s practically having a love affair with her chocolate milkshake, licking it luxuriously off the spoon.

“Yes please,” Eddie says pathetically, and sucks down some of his own milkshake, strawberry.

“Don’t get him pregnant and then join the Army?” Shannon offers, and bursts out laughing at the look he gives her.

“Thank you for that,” Eddie says, “that was a real danger.” But he has to laugh, a little, and then he finds his manners and asks about Blue.

“They’re good,” Shannon says. She smiles, a private, inward smile. “Actually – maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you, but – I think I might...propose?” She does giddy spirit fingers.

“Shan, that’s – holy shit, that’s great.” He grabs one of her hands for a squeeze. “Seriously, congratulations. I didn’t know you guys were there yet.”

“Don’t say congratulations, they haven’t said yes!” Shannon laughs, red all over. “I don’t know – once they met Chris and it went well, things just kind of...got there.”

“They definitely will say yes, relax,” Eddie says, and sips his milkshake. “Now show me the ring, and it had better be sparkly as fuck.”

 

The whole city has lost its mind. Eddie gets it, on the one hand, because five million dollars has a pretty nice ring to it; on the other hand, the people of Los Angeles are fucking dumb. There are ways of getting hurt that are, quite simply, extremely avoidable.

And on his first hand again, five fucking million dollars.

“Been a lot of solo acts,” Eddie says. “You know, we could team up. Two brains are better than one.”

Buck hesitates, and says, “I’m kinda already...teaming up with Taylor.”

“Taylor,” Eddie says, like it’s the name of a person he feels neutral about, he can do that. “Right, well.”

He peeks sideways at Buck, who makes a face of long-suffering indulgence that makes Eddie’s chest warm before he says, “Maybe we could do a three-way split.”

Five million dollars is not nearly enough money for Eddie to be in a room with Taylor Kelly, and it’s five million dollars more than it takes to get him in a room with Buck. As always, Buck wins, and Eddie gets to sit quietly in Buck’s kitchen while the two of them banter.

Remember; cursed.

Taylor’s fucking everywhere these days, and Buck insist they’re just friends. Whatever, Eddie doesn’t want her there, certainly not looking at him like she knows fucking everything in his head. Once, she catches him zoning out looking at Buck, and he seriously considers just throwing himself out the window.

But sometimes it’s good she’s there, turns out. Like when Eddie meets a sick kid who has no reason for being sick. He mentions it idly to Buck, who must mention it to Taylor, and the next day he’s getting a call from Buck.

“Can you get down here?” Buck says. “That kid’s place, from yesterday. We need your help.”

Eddie gets there as fast as he can – the 118 ladder truck outside, with Buck, and of fucking course, Taylor standing next to it.

“You’re working today?” Eddie asks, flicking Buck’s name badge.

“Covering for Ravi,” Buck says. “Eddie, something’s wrong. We need to get in, but Cap thinks it’s better if we don’t have to break down the door, this is already dicey legal ground, apparently.”

“Buck thought the kid might let you in,” Taylor says. “Do you think he will?”

Eddie smooths down his t-shirt; just being near Taylor makes him feel disheveled. “Yeah? Yeah, I think so. What’s going on?”

Taylor starts walking towards the building, gesturing sharply for them to follow. “Buck told me about the call you had, the sick kid, and I found their Gofundme.”

“Uh, planning on donating?” Eddie says, somehow having to nearly jog to keep up despite the height difference.

Taylor turns and gives him a quizzical look. “What? No.”

“Taylor thought it sounded weird too,” Buck says, cutting in before Eddie can say anything. “Eddie, she found, like, seven different Gofundmes. All under different names. She thinks – “

“Oh my God, the eye drops,” Eddie says, stopping in his tracks.

Taylor’s nodding. “Mom isn’t home, and if we can get in, we can get him to safety now.”

It’s easy, in the end. Charlie remembers him, even out of uniform, and they get him to the ambulance even as his mother arrives home. They leave her behind, staring after them with wide, hollow eyes as she’s read her rights.

Taylor slugs Buck on the shoulder in a friendly way and makes her way over to the news cameras with a bounce in her step.

“Good thing you noticed something,” Buck says. “He could’ve died.”

“I should have noticed more,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Gotten here sooner.”

“Hey, without you Taylor wouldn’t’ve known there was anything to look for. That kid is just lucky he met you,” Buck says.

Will it ever stop making Eddie warm inside to hear Buck say something good about him? Something he knows he actually earned?

“You wanna ride with him, Diaz?” Captain Mehta asks.

 

Eddie doesn’t respond, though, because there’s something catching his eye in the parking garage across the way. A little glint of light that flickers in and out; something about it is really bothering him. He’s still, inside. Not a peaceful stillness, but a sterile, waiting stillness, a perfectly horrible clarity. Something there. Something’s wrong. They’re in danger.

 

He’s felt echoes of this feeling since coming home from the Army. They’d felt real enough at the time, but he can tell they were echoes because of right here, right now, where he knows he knows he knows.

“Eddie?” Buck says, right before the truck windshield shatters. “Fuck!”

 

There’s no time. Eddie moves like he’s dreaming, like he’s stuck in slow motion. Three steps to get to Buck. A hand on Buck’s wrist, yanking him back. One more step to get between Buck and that coldly flickering light.

And then it hits him.

 

He’s on the ground, getting colder and colder and colder. There’s Buck, looking at him from far away, from down a long hallway, and Eddie’s bleeding, isn’t he. Dying. Isn’t he.

The spool of film is almost out, it’s almost over. This one moment is all Eddie has left. Now. He reaches for Buck with every fiber of his being, and manages to push his numbing hand a few inches.

 

“I’ve got you, Eddie, I’ve got you,” a torn voice yells, and Eddie screams as agony lances through him.

He comes to again, the world moving around him. There’s Buck, blue eyes huge with terror, and red red red splattered all over him.

“Buck,” he grunts, and those wide eyes snap to him. Terror in every line of Buck’s face.

“Ed – Eddie,” Buck says. “Eddie, hold on, okay? I got you. I got you, Eddie. Hold on.”

“Are you hurt?” Eddie manages. Every word hurts to get out.

Buck shakes his head frantically. “I’m okay.”

The words echo like ripples in water, and then Eddie’s gone again.

 

“Ugh,” Eddie groans. His throat is like sandpaper. “God.”

“Eddie,” someone says, and takes his hand. God, they’re so warm.

“Hi,” Eddie says. “What’s…” He coughs, throat sticky.

“Hold on.” A straw pokes him in the lip, and he takes a minute to figure out how to get it into his mouth, and then suck in water. Cold, delicious water.

He can open his eyes after that, probably because they’re not glued shut from dehydration anymore, and Buck is looking at him, exhausted, stubble growing out. It’s his hand in Eddie’s. Eddie squeezes his hand, not very hard because he has no strength, and Buck ducks his head, effectively hiding his face. But he squeezes back.

“What happened?”

“You got shot,” Buck says, last word getting strangled. ‘You got shot right in front of me. Right after Charlie got taken to the hospital.”

The street. The glint of light. Glass in Buck’s hair.

“Sniper,” Eddie says. Sleep is already creeping in again.

“Yeah,” Buck swipes at his cheeks. His hand in Eddie’s is shaking. “You knew somehow. You got in front of me...you...oh God, Eddie, you could have been killed, you almost were. Why’d you do that? Why did you have to do that?”

“Buck,” Eddie sighs. “Because.” Each blink is slower than the last. He’s so tired. So tired.

“Why, Eddie,” Buck whispers.

“Because.” Eddie’s floating away somewhere. He breathes, “I love you.”

 

When he wakes up next, it’s Shannon and Christopher next to him.

“Dad,” Christopher says, hesitant, and Eddie pets his hair with an imprecise hand.

“Hey, kid,” Eddie rasps. He looks up. “Shan.”

“Eddie,” Shannon says. She’s sniffing back tears, and she grabs his hand, presses his palm to her cheek.

They stay until Christopher falls asleep on the bed next to Eddie. It’s not comfortable in the least, but Eddie is pretty much fine with that.

“Shannon,” Eddie says. His voice doesn’t have much staying power; he’s gonna be out too, soon. “You seen Buck?”

She laughs. “Uh, only constantly. He barely leaves the hospital more than you do right now.”

“Tell him,” Eddie says, words going gluey, “I miss him.”

Shannon says, not without amusement, “I will.”

 

Whatever Shannon might say, he doesn’t see Buck again until he’s discharged from the hospital, and Buck sheepishly slouches into the room, looking at the floor.

“Hey,” Eddie says, and he can remember being able to control his tone of voice, but apparently that skill is now lost to him because he sounds shy and happy and wondering all at once. Embarrassing. Oh well, he’s been shot, he can live through another moment of being embarrassing as fuck about Buck.

“Hey,” Buck says, hands in his pockets, taking careful steps closer.

“I thought Chimney was getting me?”

“Nope.” Buck sits next to him on the bed. “Told him I’d do it.”

Silence reigns.

“Thanks for taking a bullet for me,” Buck says, like he’s trying to lighten the mood. He fidgets.

“Anytime.”

“Any…” Buck shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous. You have a kid, man, you should have let it happen and not almost fucking died.”

“Couldn’t,” Eddie says. He looks at Buck, straight-backed, looking at his own hands, and so sure that it wouldn’t matter if he was wiped off the face of the earth.

“Eddie,” Buck says, like his name is a full sentence.

“Evan,” Eddie says, and Buck finally looks at him. “You’re not expendable, okay? Not even a little bit. Not to me.” Buck’s eyes are wet, now, and Eddie doesn’t think, just says it. “I meant what I said. I love you.”

Buck chokes on spit. “I didn’t think you remembered saying that,” he says once he’s done coughing.

“I remember,” Eddie says ruefully. “Look, I just want you to know – you matter. To me. To everyone.”

Buck doesn’t say anything at all, gaping at him, and Eddie adds quietly, “I know you don’t feel the same way. I had my chance, I ruined it, I’m not… I don’t expect anything from you, okay?”

A quiet, still second. There’s some silent sound in the air, a ringing tone like tapped porcelain that only exists in Eddie’s mind. And the spinning world has shrunk its borders; all that there is, is this hospital room, these fluorescents, this thin, scratchy blanket, and Buck sitting next to him, looking at him, shocked.

“Eddie.” Buck’s voice breaks on his name, and the world snaps back to its usual size. “Is that – you think I don’t – you really think that? I – I thought you knew, I…”

“What?” Eddie says. Something is happening to him. Transformation, transmutation. Air in his lungs turning to gold. “Knew what?”

“I never stopped loving you,” Buck says, and Eddie is breathing fast. He might be lifting right off the bed. “I – I tried. But I couldn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” Eddie says. There should be better words, but he can’t find any. He reaches out – reaches for Buck, shatters the invisible wall between them to put his hand on Buck’s cheek. Buck takes a small, shaky breath, and he doesn’t move away. He doesn’t move away.

“Eddie, I,” Buck says, and then stops saying, because Eddie kisses him. The next thing Eddie feels is Buck’s firm hand on the back of his neck, and then Buck’s kissing back, and Eddie thinks, in a tangle of light and love and joy –

Hello again.

He’s shaking, or they both are. There’s the working of Buck’s jaw beneath Eddie’s fingers, the slow parting of his lips, the taste of him as his tongue caresses Eddie’s own.

It ends, eventually, and even after Buck pulls away it takes a long moment for Eddie to open his eyes. Eddie kisses Buck’s fingers, the palm of his hand.

“Hey Buck,” he says. “Wanna get out of here?”

 

Buck carries his bag. “I still have one good arm, you know,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to carry my stuff.”

“You’re not supposed to put any stress on your shoulder.”

“It’s one extremely small bag, Buck, it’s fine,” Eddie says.

“You’re not getting the bag,” Buck says.

“You’re already driving me home. I can carry my own bag.” Eddie half-heartedly grabs for it.

“No, dude, stop,” Buck says, easily evading him.

“It’s the least I can do!”

“The least you can - “ Buck stops in his tracks, pierces Eddie with a glare. “You took a fucking bullet for me, Diaz, so shut up and let me carry it so you can heal from the wound you got, oh yeah, taking a bullet for me.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and Buck rounds on him.

“Okay, you know what? Give me your fucking - “ Buck grabs Eddie’s free hand with his, lacing their fingers together. “Looks like you don’t have any hands to carry it with. Can we go?”

Eddie looks at their joined hands, presses his palm against Buck’s. “Uh-huh,” he says, a moment late.

“You’re impossible,” Buck says, exasperated, but Eddie’s right there, he can see the smile tugging at his lips; he can feel Buck pressing his palm right back.

By the time they get to Eddie’s house, Eddie is wilting. He doesn’t fight Buck on the bag even just for the fun of it – he’s too exhausted, and he hurts too much.

“I got you, come on,” Buck says. Eddie nods miserably. Together they get him inside. “You hungry?”

“No, just tired,” Eddie says, and they keep going to the bedroom.

“You need help?” Buck says. “Changing?”

Eddie’s bed is right there. It looks so soft, the sheets fresh – Eddie even showered at the hospital, so he doesn’t feel disgusting. He’s so, so fucking tired.

He drags a hand over his face. “Yeah. Thanks. Sorry.”

Everything hurts, even bending; Buck has to pull up his pj pants for him. “Sorry,” Eddie says again. “I didn’t think it was still this bad.”

“First day out of the hospital, it’s gonna be a lot. I remember when I first got out after the fire truck, I was wrecked,” Buck says. He flicks Eddie’s cheek, very lightly. “That’s why I carry the bag, dumbass.”

Eddie makes a face at him. Buck helps him take his shirt off, next, and that fucking sucks. At one point, a too-quick movement jars his injury and he hisses with pain, recoiling.

“S-sorry, shit,” Buck says. “Okay, okay, it’s off. Do you want a button-down, or…”

“Just leave it,” Eddie rasps. “I don’t want to have to fight with it if I get too hot. Pants are enough. Buck,” he adds, as Buck turns to the bed, stacking pillows, and then hesitates.

“Tell me before you keel over,” Buck says with humor.

“Will you stay for a while?”

“Yeah,” Buck says immediately. “Of course I will.”

He gets Eddie in bed, in between the cool crisp sheets, and leaning back on the pillows in a way that borders on not uncomfortable.

Buck lies next to him on the bed, on top of the covers, turns over to face him, and finger-combs his hair. Eddie might have never been this content, ever.

“Mmmbuck,” he mumbles, and he thinks Buck responds, but he’s not sure, because he’s asleep.

It’s dark when Eddie wakes up, though by the clock it’s only been an hour and change. His mouth is dry, head aching and shoulder throbbing, and Buck is gone. He fumbles for the glass of water Buck left on the nightstand and takes a long drink.

“Hey,” he says softly, hearing Buck’s quiet footfalls.

Buck yelps quietly. “Fuck, Eddie. Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“I don’t think so,” Eddie says. The bed shifts under Buck’s weight as he gets back in. “I was just really thirsty.”

“Right,” Buck says. “Your middle-of-the-night chuggin’ time.”

“Like I’m the only person who drinks water at night,” Eddie says.

“I guess I just don’t know about the other people because they don’t wake me up every time they do it,” Buck says.

“Whatever,” Eddie says. “Shut up.”

It’s quiet. It’s not so late, really, but it’s the kind of quiet that comes in the wee hours, blanketing everything. It feels like another world, this dark, hushed room with moonlight spilling through the open curtains behind Buck, silvering the edges of him.

“Hey Buck,” Eddie says after a minute. “Do you know if I can take more meds?”

He can, and then Buck asks him if he wants to go piss, and by the time Eddie gets back from that, he’s shaking with pain and exhaustion.

“They should kick in soon,” Buck says.

“Thanks,” Eddie says. He laughs softly. “This’s been quite a day, huh.”

“You could say that,” Buck says with humor in his voice.

Eddie shifts closer to Buck, as much as he can, which isn’t much. “Can I ask you something?”

“Course,” Buck whispers.

“How long? How long did you – if it’s okay for me to ask.”

“I don’t really know,” Buck says. “I don’t know when I went from being totally stupid over you, to…”

“You weren’t stupid over me,” Eddie says. “No more stupid than I was over you.”

Buck chuckles. “I actively could not control myself around you,” he says. “I kept deciding it was done and I was gonna just, get some distance from you. And then, yeah. It was like I was possessed or something.”

“I think I know the feeling,” Eddie says into the darkness.

“Really,” Buck says.

“I told the front desk lady at Christopher’s school that we were dating,” Eddie says. “Like, I don’t know. A year ago?”

A split-second hesitation and then Buck starts absolutely cracking up. “You’re insane,” he tells Eddie after he stops laughing. “That explains some really confusing conversations.”

“There were reasons?” Eddie offers, and then gives in and laughs. “I’ve been acting insane around you this entire time, don’t act surprised.”

“Have you now,” Buck says.

Eddie reaches for Buck blindly and gets an arm. He strokes Buck’s skin with his fingertips, the thin skin of the crook of his elbow. “Not that I knew why. Thank Taylor Kelly for that realization.”

“Taylor?” Buck says. Eddie thrills at the way he says her name, like someone he remembers only vaguely.

“She asked if I was in love with you, after you guys broke up.” Eddie leans into Buck’s fingers, now stroking through his hair at the nape of his neck. “Kind of broke - “

“ - the story?” Buck says. “Taylor Kelly with the morning news.”

“No morning news. Ever.”

“So possessive,” Buck says, like he likes it.

“Damn right I am,” Eddie says. “I’ve spent long enough not having you.”

Buck says roughly, “You always had me.”

The next thing he feels is Buck’s hand, bumping a little clumsily into his chin. Knuckles brush softly from Eddie’s chin to his ear before his whole hand captures Eddie’s face, fingers at his jawbone, thumb on his chin. Buck’s thumb strokes back and forth, brushing the very edge of Eddie’s bottom lip. Then the bed dips, Buck sliding closer, and his lips press against Eddie’s without warning.

“Come back,” Eddie says as Buck recedes back to his side.

“You’re not supposed to put stress on - “

“Ugh.”

“And you’re gonna be asleep in like two minutes when the meds kick in.”

“Then I need a goodnight kiss,” Eddie says. Buck’s right, he can feel the meds already.

“You’re already half asleep,” Buck murmurs.

“Please,” Eddie says, pouting, eyes slipping closed.

“Don’t make that face.”

“Why not?” Eddie reaches for Buck and Buck curses. “What?”

“You poked me in the eye,” Buck says, laughter in his voice.

“Oh,” Eddie says. His words are starting to drag out. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Buck says, capturing Eddie’s eye-poking hand.

 

When Eddie wakes up, once he’s managed to get his stiff, aching body out of bed, he finds Buck in the kitchen, doing dishes.

“Hey,” Eddie says.

Buck puts the clean plate in the rack, and says, “Hey.”

“You’re still here,” Eddie says.

“You asked me to stay,” Buck says. He shuts the water off and faces Eddie, reclining against the counter. He’s wearing Eddie’s shirt, a too-big tee that he’s had since high school, with tomato sauce stains on the hem and a hole at the left armpit.

Eddie says, “And if I ask you to stay longer?”

“Then,” Buck says, pushing off the counter, “I’ll stay.”

Eddie looks at Buck, and Buck lets him, and Eddie doesn’t say anything, he just kisses Buck slowly and surely, more sure than he’s ever been about anything in his life.

“Stay,” Eddie whispers into the scant space between their lips, and kisses Buck again. “Stay,” he says, “stay, stay…”

He murmurs the words to Buck’s lips until there are too many kisses for there to be words anymore, and Buck doesn’t say anything aloud, but Eddie can feel the answer burning white-hot between them. Every kiss Buck gives him, each clinging press of his lips, his hands hot on Eddie like a brand that Eddie hopes never goes away, the very air around them crackling with electricity, building to what might as well be a shout of yes, yes, YES.

Eddie leans fully into Buck, ignoring the way his arm in its sling is squashed between them, and Buck takes the weight, and wipes away the tear that spills down Eddie’s cheek with gentle, calloused fingers.

Eddie laughs, a quiet, choked sound. Buck’s so close, so right here, holding Eddie like this. He’s been close to Buck – hugs, kisses, they’ve sat shoulder to shoulder in the engine for cumulative days of his life, had sex a truly stupid amount of times, but it’s like Eddie’s whole body, his whole being has been remade from the ground up. Everything old made new again.

Eddie rucks up the hem of Buck’s shirt, traces over the exposed skin, and Buck’s eyes flutter shut. He says, in the tone of someone trying to convince himself, “We shouldn’t – we should wait.”

“I just,” Eddie says. Buck’s belly, his chest, solid with muscle. Eddie’s hand travels high enough for his fingers to peek out of the neck of the shirt as he feels the hard line of Buck’s collarbone. “I really want you, Buck. Like right now.”

“You’re,” Buck says, and swallows when Eddie kisses his neck. “You’re still injured. You need to recover.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “You’re not gonna fuck my shoulder. It’s fine.”

“Oh, so I’m fucking you, is that right?” Buck says, and if he’s trying to pretend he has a problem with that he’s doing a shit job.

Eddie runs his palm over the back of Buck’s neck, the short hairs there. Back and forth, back and forth. “That’s right,” he says, and his voice goes tight and hoarse.

Buck growls and walks Eddie backwards into the opposite wall, and Eddie says, “You don’t even know how much I’ve thought about it,” and Buck says, “ Tell me ,” and latches onto Eddie’s neck with his mouth.

Eddie hasn’t touched Buck like this in months, hasn’t felt Buck’s mouth on his skin or his strong hands on his body, and it’s coherent in his head but he’s drunk on pleasure already so it comes out something like, “Want you, baby, you’re all I fucking think about, fucking ruined me – “ and that’s as far as he gets before Buck kisses him like he’s trying to push him through the wall.

“Can you fuck me now?” Eddie says, the next time his mouth is available for talking. “I seriously need you to fuck me.”

Buck seems to trip into a laugh. “Wow.”

“What,” Eddie says, only half paying attention, walking them, together, in the vague direction of his bedroom.

“I don’t,” Buck accepts Eddie’s kiss, “uh, I just don’t remember you being this – I don’t know. Like this.”

“Last time we were together - “ After the well, though Eddie doesn’t say that aloud. “That was a long time ago.”

“It was,” Buck says, simply.

“I know what I want now,” Eddie says. Struggling for the right words. He swallows, throat tight. “I didn’t think I could have this.”

Buck leans forward, forehead to forehead with him. “I-I didn’t either. I, uh. I didn’t think you wanted me.”

“I always wanted you,” Eddie whispers to Buck’s lips. “From the first time you kissed me. After that, I was a goner.”

They pass a few minutes trading soft kisses before Buck says, “It makes a pretty good story, though. For – you know, whoever. I kissed you by my Jeep and the rest is history.”

Eddie pulls back to look at him. “That’s not the first time we kissed.”

“Unless we hooked up at another bar before that, I’m pretty sure it is,” Buck says dryly.

“You kissed me while we were still in the bar, Buck,” Eddie says. “To try and hide from that girl, the one who threw a drink on you.”

“Oh,” Buck says. “I guess I kinda remember that.”

“Kinda,” Eddie mutters. It’s only burned into Eddie’s actual brain.

Buck runs a warm palm down Eddie’s back, settles it on his hip. Something about it makes Eddie feel so still, so safe. “You were so fucking cute, you kept turning bright red.”

“Oh, I did not,” Eddie says.

“Every time I said anything,” Buck says, “you blushed. It was awesome.”

Eddie kisses him, and Buck says, “You’re just gonna shut me up ‘cause you don’t like what I’m saying?” and Eddie kisses him again. And again, again, until Buck’s not so much trying to talk anymore and is just kissing back.

Eddie smacks shoulders with Buck, and wrenches away, hissing in pain. “No, it’s fine,” Eddie says to forestall apologies. “My fault.”

“This is such a bad idea,” Buck says, but he goes with Eddie into his bedroom and helps him get comfortable against the pillows.

Eddie leans back against the perfect stack of pillows that Buck created for him. His meds are taking the edge off, but his body still hurts, and he’s got his stupid fucking arm immobilized. Still, he watches Buck stand to slide his boxers down his long, milk-pale legs, watches him see Eddie watching and duck his head with a shy smile, and knows this will always be one of the best moments of his life.

Buck comes back with lube, and Eddie reaches for him; he won’t drape himself over Eddie like Eddie wants, but sits on the edge of the bed, next to him, and kisses him from there.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Buck says. Eddie worries at his own lip and does, and Buck’s slick finger explores down, down, rubs in slow circles. “Breathe,” Buck says, and Eddie does.

He fucks Eddie like that, with just his fingers, and Eddie has to stay still enough that he doesn’t fuck his shoulder up more. He’s really trembling after a while, and says, in a voice that is tellingly ruined, “Buck. Please.”

“God,” Buck says, “fuck. Okay. Okay.”

Buck moves between Eddie’s spread legs, hikes them up, sending a shiver down his spine, and then he pushes in with one long, slow motion that makes Eddie’s eyes close with bliss. Buck’s as deep as he can go, and Eddie wants more, fuck, more, and Buck’s hips are twitching uselessly like he wishes he could give it to him.

“Stay still, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Buck says roughly, and Eddie discovers that he’s arching into Buck, rocking his hips minutely, and makes himself relax against the pillows.

“Fuck,” Eddie says, and gives himself a few strokes, just to take the edge off. Just the very edge, since it’s his left hand and he’s uncoordinated enough with it to make it a tease, and Eddie stops with a hiss of frustration.

Buck makes a sound like a laugh, and ducks his head, and starts fucking him, but it’s not even a minute later before he slows again to tell Eddie to relax. Pain is building in Eddie’s shoulder, enough that he’s starting to go a little soft.

“This isn’t…” Eddie says, and pats Buck’s hip. “Come on, get off.”

“I told you,” Buck says, and Eddie rolls his eyes and says, “We’re not done, dumbass,” and Buck says, “Oh baby, talk dirty to me,” in maybe the driest tone of voice Eddie has ever heard from him.

But he goes where Eddie tells him, pulls out and moves over to sit on the edge of the bed, and catches Eddie around the waist when he straddles him. “Hey,” Buck says, hushed, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

“Hi,” Eddie breathes.

He settles into Buck’s lap, and shudders all over when he feels Buck there, hard against his ass, nudging against his balls a little as Eddie starts to rock and grind. Sloppy, slow movements, until the head of Buck’s cock catches one too many times against him where he’s open and wanting, and Eddie can’t take it a second more. Pushes himself up, practically shaking with want, and Buck lines himself up without Eddie saying a word, and Eddie presses back against him, sits himself down in one steady motion. All he can do for a moment is just sit there, taking hitching breaths and trying to remember how to close his mouth as he tips his face up to the ceiling.

When he gets it together he finds Buck, watching him ravenously, biting his lip. Meeting Buck’s eyes gets him a vicious squeeze of Buck’s hands on his hips, and he jolts into a dirty grind without thinking, and just like that they’re moving frantically together. No grace to it, just a desperate rocking of their bodies, and Buck keeps making these gutted rough sounds that make Eddie moan so loud he smacks a hand over his own mouth.

Buck does a brutally hard thrust that makes Eddie make a shivering sound. Eddie’s cock is aching, his hole feeling so fucking full Eddie doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He clenches shakily around Buck, does it again when it makes him moan.

Eddie makes a quiet sound, breathless, and he doesn’t bother to try and stroke himself, just squeezes, presses his cock against the pressure of his own belly for some fucking relief.

Buck’s got a rosy flush traveling his cheeks, birthmark standing out the same hot red as his lips, and his eyes are so meltingly fond that Eddie can’t take it, he can’t, and he’s fucking tearing up, trying to keep his lips from quivering.

He leans in and Buck kisses him sloppily, both breathing too hard to do much more than suck the air out of each other’s mouths. A hand slides into Eddie’s hair, and he registers it a second before Buck’s fingers tighten, hard. Of course Buck remembers the way it makes Eddie crazy, the pain-pleasure of it. He knows Eddie; knows the best of him, and the worst of him, knows him down to the bones. Knows him and loves him, and Eddie’s toes curl, he shakes and twitches on top of Buck, around him, and he can’t really speak, couldn’t even if his mouth wasn’t busy with Buck’s, but it’s all he’s thinking, with every thrust, with every rocking of their hips together.

Love you. Love you. I love you.

“Eddie,” Buck gasps, muffled, against Eddie’s lips, and like a spark snapping into flame, Eddie is coming on Buck’s cock, muscles shuddering and clenching around him, squeezing himself hard as his come gets all over his hand and his belly and then, a moment later, all over Buck because Eddie grabs onto his hand to stay upright. Got to slump forward, hiding in Buck’s neck even as he whispers, “Don’t stop.”

He shivers against Buck as the pleasure turns shocky, lightning arcing down to his toes. Tears overflow; there’s an ache in Eddie’s throat, and it’s when Buck tips over the edge, groaning against his shoulder, that he bursts into silent tears, hugging Buck as close as he can with his one arm.

Eventually Eddie has to climb off of Buck, and Buck helps him lie back against the pillows again; every muscle in his body is shaky and exhausted. “Hey,” Buck says, looking Eddie in the face, “hey, what’s wrong?” Buck reaches for him with a come-sticky hand, notices, and draws back, looking around frantically for something to wipe it on. It makes Eddie laugh, but it’s like his body misreads it because now he’s crying harder.

“I’m good,” Eddie says brokenly. “Sorry.“

Buck doesn’t make him explain it, just says, “It’s okay.” He disappears for a moment and comes back with a washcloth by which point Eddie’s got his shit back together, and after he and Eddie are both reasonably clean, he gets Eddie to sit up and move so Buck has room to slide in behind him, Eddie reclining against his chest. Buck pets his hair and Eddie melts against him.

“Is this a bad time to tell you I just see you as a friend,” Buck says, and Eddie startles out of the strange ache in his heart into a laugh.

“Not funny, you dick,” he tells Buck, who’s shaking with laughter behind him.

“It’s pretty funny,” Buck says, and turns Eddie’s head for a gentle kiss.

 

He’s alone when he wakes up, but he doesn’t think Buck’s left. Sitting up in slow, painful intervals, he identifies Buck’s voice speaking distantly somewhere, and goes to find him.

“No, no, I think he should,” Buck is saying in the living room. “He’ll want to see him.”

“As long as it won’t be too much for him,” says another voice: Shannon.

“Shan?” Eddie says, and Buck’s by his side, supporting him.

“Why are you up,” Buck says in a resigned way. Eddie shrugs, and winces, and Buck gives him a look like serves you right.

“You look terrible,” Shannon says. Eddie lets himself be helped (though it’s not like anything happened to his legs) over to the couch, and she watches him let himself be helped with a strange half-smile. “Christopher’s in the car. I said I would ask if you’re up to saying hi to him.”

“Yeah, of course,” Eddie says, straightening in his seat.

Shannon calls out the door, and about two seconds later Christopher is there. He approaches slowly, sits next to Eddie with strange reticence.

“You okay?” he asks in an almost-whisper, his shy voice.

“Yeah, kid. I’m okay.” Christopher’s looking him over, but the bandage on Eddie’s shoulder catches his eye again and again. “It hasn’t been that long, so I’m still hurting. But I’m gonna be better real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says, happier, but not fully convinced. Eddie wonders if he has some dim childhood memories in there of Eddie after his discharge. It had taken him twice as long to recover as it should have. He avoided his follow-up appointments like the plague, and he wouldn’t let anyone look at his wounds or help change his dressings; he did it himself as best he could, and he was always in pain, swearing and angry and haunted.

“It’ll be time to change those bandages soon,” Buck says, hand falling naturally to Christopher’s shoulder. “You can help if you want. It’ll be gross.” Improbably, that makes Christopher smile.

“If I help with the bandage, then I should stay over,” Christopher says, gaining some volume.

Shannon catches Eddie’s eye with a certain humor. “I don’t know if your dad is up to that yet, baby.” She raises her eyebrows at Eddie, and he nods at her.

“I think it’ll be okay,” Eddie says to Christopher.

“And Buck should stay in case there’s an emergency,” Christopher says.

“Buck should stay,” Eddie says. The pleased smile on Buck’s face might be healing his shoulder spontaneously. “If he wants. He might be busy.”

“Oh.” Christopher looks up at Buck. “Are you busy?”

Buck is looking at Eddie and Eddie’s looking back and somewhere in between them Shannon is smirking behind her hand; and Buck shakes his head no.

“I’ll, uh,” Buck says. “I should get some stuff if I’m gonna stay over.”

“Great, and I’ll go with you,” Christopher says in an officious way. Eddie strangles laughter to death before it escapes.

“No,” he says, at the same time Shannon does.

“But I need my toothbrush? Buck can take me.”

“Your mom can take you,” Eddie says. “She has some stuff you’ll need, like keys to her apartment.”

“But, uh, I could always bring him back from there?” Buck says with hesitance. “If that’s okay.”

It would be hard to say no now it’s been said; but neither of them want to, Eddie thinks. Shannon looks a little worn; it’s been a lot of days in a row with Christopher. She’ll definitely need a break by now, and Eddie’s fine with not getting a break for a long, long time.

“Okay, let’s load up, kiddo,” Shannon says. Christopher decides he wants to go to the bathroom first, and while he’s in there, and Buck’s gathering up his wallet and his phone and his shoes, she drifts closer and says quietly, “Soooooo.”

“So,” Eddie says, making like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You two!” She makes an obscene gesture with her hands, then a heart.

“Shut up,” Eddie says, but he can’t stop smiling. “Yes, okay?”

“Oh my God I knew it,” Shannon whispers loudly. “I have to say, I love seeing you like this. So, what’s the word? Whipped.”

“I am not,” Eddie says, as Buck comes back into the room, one shoe on, hopping as he pulls the other one on, and Eddie melts like ice cream in the sun.

“I’ll be back in like, an hour? Do you want me to get anything while I’m out? Groceries?”

“No, it’s good, I’m good,” Eddie says. “I have a fridge full of Bobby’s cooking. Wonder how that got in there.”

Buck half shrugs, grinning, and then attempts a stern expression that just makes him look hilarious. “You’re not gonna try to change your bandage alone while I’m gone, right? Because Chris says he wants to help.”

“I won’t,” Eddie laughs.

“You’re gonna rest? Not gonna try and do stuff while you’re unsupervised and fuck your shoulder up more?” Buck says.

“I’m an adult, I don’t need supervision,” Eddie says.

Buck shakes his head, and says, “You so totally do.” Christopher’s out of the bathroom, coming back, and Buck ruffles his hair in a way that lately has been making Christopher practically snarl at Eddie; but when Buck does it, he giggles. Betrayal. “I’m gonna come get you from your mom’s, so I’ll see you soon?”

“Soon,” Christopher says.

“See you soon too,” Buck says to Shannon, and they exchange smiles; Eddie has the abrupt and belated realization that they’re friends, Buck and Shannon. What the hell.

“Oh, and,” Buck calls from outside the door, “take your meds! It’s time!”

“Whipped,” Shannon coughs on her way out. He gives her the finger.

Outside, Eddie can hear Buck saying, “Christopher Diaz! Fancy meeting you here!”; and he can hear Christopher laughing. Car doors slam, engines start and fade down the street. All at once he’s exhausted, and he slips into sleep there on the couch.

They come back some time later, and Eddie snorts awake.

“You drooled on yourself,” Christopher tells him.

“Ew,” Buck says cheerfully. Eddie makes an inarticulate sound.

Eddie’s stiff, and he hurts; maybe it was actually a little early to have Buck fuck him, from how his body feels, not that he’ll tell Buck that. And he forgot to take his meds, but he’s got no energy to deal with it, or anything. The sounds around him are so comforting, voices and footsteps and the clink of Christopher’s crutches. Eddie doesn’t go back to sleep, but he’s in a quiet place in his mind, not thinking. Just listening with his eyes closed.

“Eddie?” Buck whispers a while later. Maybe Eddie did sleep; the light has changed. “Here, just take these, and then you can go to bed if you want.”

“Mmm. Might need to eat something first.” Eddie says. “Christopher? Needs dinner?”

Buck laughs at him, strokes through his hair. “We ate dinner, he’s getting ready for bed. You were completely out.”

“Mmmnn.” Words are so challenging, and so unnecessary. Eddie pulls Buck close enough that Eddie can put his head on Buck’s shoulder. Such a good, broad shoulder. “You’re…” Eddie says, searches his mind. “Comfortable.”

“Speaking of comfortable,” Buck says, “I should really change that bandage.”

“Fine,” Eddie says, channeling himself, age 15.

Christopher hovers as Buck takes the bandage off. “It is gross,” he says with apparent delight.

“I’m just gonna clean it with saline,” Buck explains, “and rewrap it. You actually don’t want to use anything really strong to clean an injury like this early on.”

The saline spray hits his wound, and Eddie grits his teeth so he doesn’t groan with pain. First rewrap it, so Christopher can get to bed; then food, then his meds, because they go better when they’re not on an empty stomach. A good plan logistically, but Eddie’s not feeling incredibly good right now.

“That’s alright,” Buck says, totally focused on what he’s doing. “You’re alright.” He replaces the bandage and repeats the process for the other wound at the back of Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay, that’s it. That has to happen every morning and every night for a while.”

“Wow, Dad,” Christopher says, “you’re so high maintenance.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “It’s bedtime.”

 

Eddie finds some of Bobby’s lasagna in the fridge and wolfs some of it down cold, straight out of the container while Buck makes a disapproving face at him from where he’s washing his and Christopher’s dinner dishes.

“Stop judging me,” Eddie says with his mouth ridiculously full, and Buck tells him, “You’re gross. It would’ve taken ten minutes to heat that up.”

“It’s better cold,” Eddie says.

“I’m gonna tell Bobby you said that,” Buck says, and gets Eddie his meds.

Now that Eddie’s not catatonic with exhaustion, it’s kind of odd having Buck here like this for his evening routine. Buck has stayed over before, mostly on the couch, but they’ve never been next to each other at the sink, brushing their teeth together. Once they’re in his bedroom, Eddie keeps bumping into Buck, not expecting him to be there.

“I can stay on the couch, you know,” Buck says, maybe because Eddie’s gone quiet and awkward, tunnel-vision focused only on whatever’s right in front of him.

“No!” Eddie says, almost snaps. He wants to put his head in his hands, but he’s only got the one hand available and it’s just not the same. Instead he finds a bone-deep sigh to rattle his entire body before he says, “I want you to stay with me. But I just, I don’t want to fuck things up again. This is, this is, we’re really doing this, right? Being. Boyfriends? Are we?”

He sounds crazy, actually, on the verge of hysterical laughter or something adjacent to it. Buck seems at a loss when he says, “We haven’t really talked about it?”

“Fuck.” Eddie sits on the edge of the bed. “Do you? Want to? Be my boyfriend?”

“Eddie,” Buck says, in the voice of someone about to start asking medical questions.

“No, just.” Eddie holds up a warding hand. “Boyfriend sounds stupid, I don’t know. Do you want to be my...do you want to be mine?”

He sits there in a helpless caught moment, eyes locked with Buck’s, and Buck looks shocked and like he might laugh, and Eddie is turning just so red, a new shade of red, redder than all previous reds known by science. He’s said it, though, and try as he might he can’t actually find a better way to say it. That’s what it is. That’s what he wants. Be mine.

“Can you please breathe,” Buck says, and Eddie judders back into a normal breathing pattern, shoots Buck a thumbs up. Sitting next to him, Buck takes his hand, kisses his knuckles and can’t seem to resist laughing before he says, “Yeah. I want to be yours.”

“Oh fuck, good,” Eddie says, and slumps his weight into Buck. Buck strokes his hair and hums tunelessly.

“Guess we are,” Buck says after a while of that. “Really doing this.”

“I’m just,” Eddie says, a little more relaxed now. “I’m not good at this part of things, when things get real. But I want to be.”

“Oh,” Buck says, in a too-innocent tone that means he’s about to fuck with Eddie, “tell me about the part of relationships that you are good at?” and Eddie collapses into his chest to laugh, can’t even pretend to be offended.

“Um,” he says, emerging. “Sex?”

Buck makes a face like fair enough and kisses Eddie on the forehead, and Eddie goes utterly stupid and melty with love. Buck says, “Can I steal a shirt? I forgot one to sleep in.”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Eddie says, and watches Buck rummage in his dresser. His hands alter everything they touch. The knobs on the dresser drawers, the shirts he’s sorting through like he’s looking for one in particular. Everything Buck touches is better than it was.

Buck freezes, then, and says, “Uh. Eddie?” and Eddie says, “Yeah?” and when Buck turns around he’s holding his shirt, Buck’s shirt, the blue one that Eddie wore for about forty-five minutes years ago and about ten minutes last month.

“This is mine, isn’t it?” Buck says. “From – “

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah, I found it recently. Didn’t even remember I had it. Guess you can use that one, then I’ll remember to give it back to you.”

Buck touches the shirt, lightly, like it’s a small animal he’s trying not to scare, and then his eyes flick to Eddie’s and he goes back to normal. “Nah,” he says, tossing it back into the drawer. “You keep it.”

“You don’t want it?” Eddie asks, pushing more than makes sense as someone who actually does want to keep the shirt, and Buck shakes his head. He pulls out a different shirt of Eddie’s and puts it on.

They get into bed together, and Eddie finds a way to lie on his unwounded side that isn’t terrible, and Buck wraps around him from behind, and Eddie says, “I love you,” and Buck says to the nape of his neck, “I love you too.”

 

 

“We don’t have to go,” Buck says. “If you’re too tired, just tell me and I’ll tell them.”

“I’m seriously, seriously fine,” Eddie says. “It’s gonna be like, eating food while sitting in a chair. I can handle that. I’ve been out of the hospital for a minute now.”

“You have been out of the hospital for literally four days, Eddie.”

“Rest is important,” Christopher intones solemnly, and Buck says, “Thank you, Christopher.”

“I will be resting. And I’ll tell you if I need to leave. Okay?”

Buck narrows his eyes at him and says, “I’ll be watching you.”

When they get there, Buck theatrically suggests that Christopher go ahead of them, and after he goes off Eddie says, “You know I know what this is. Right? Do I have to look surprised?”

“Better not try, you’re shit garbage at pretending,” Buck says. He holds Eddie back when he tries to start walking towards the house. “No, we’re supposed to wait three minutes after Chris goes in.”

“Guess we can find something to do,” Eddie says, and kisses Buck against the Jeep.

“Hold on, hold that thought,” Buck says, and pulls away. Eddie makes some truly inexcusable whining noises, but Buck just grins at him and ducks around to the back of the car.

He’s back in a few seconds, and he throws some crumpled fabric at Eddie. Eddie shakes it into the shape of a shirt, a white Henley with a faded, watery pink stain on it. He stumbles into sense memory, vodka and cranberry on his lips, Buck’s fingers on the hem of his shirt, this shirt. “You kept this?”

“Every now and then,” Buck says, “I would see it, and decide I should just toss it. And then instead I’d jam it back into the bottom of my trunk until the next time I found it. But I remembered again when I saw you still had mine.”

“Well, you should keep this one,” Eddie says, “I guess. It’s kind of gross. Maybe you should wash it.”

“I was thinking I’d just jam it back into my trunk,” Buck says, and does just that. He looks at his phone and says, “It’s time!”

They go inside, and most everyone Eddie knowsis there, apart from blood relations. Everyone yells “surprise” and Eddie actually does try to look surprised, but then Buck starts laughing at him, and Eddie doesn’t think about it, just kisses the laughter out of his mouth. Shannon wolf-whistles, and after Eddie’s managed to stop kissing Buck he sees a whole lot of cash getting passed around, which he decides to ignore.

“Guess I should have asked if you wanted to go public,” Eddie says to Buck in the general tumult, and Buck shrugs and says, “Well, I wanted to.”

Eddie tucks Buck’s hand into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls him away to go chat with people. And everyone sees, and no one says anything except to congratulate them.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Chimney says, once everyone’s gotten a piece of cake and dispersed again.

“Was it really supposed to be a surprise?” Eddie asks. “You guys do parties for everything.”

“We all yelled ‘surprise’ when you got here. Was that too subtle a clue?” Chimney scoffs. “We don’t do parties for everything.”

“And you randomly texted me about my dessert preferences yesterday.”

“That could’ve been for anything,” Chimney says, and laughs when Eddie gives him a look. “You need some cake, man? This is your party!”

“Buck’s getting it. He won’t let me do anything. I told him I’m fine, but…” Eddie says. Buck, across the patio, has a plate of cake in each hand, and is getting distracted talking to Athena and her daughter. He’s ranting happily about something, from his pink cheeks, and the way he’s gesturing with the plates, violently enough that Eddie thinks his cake might end up on the ground.

“Wow,” Chimney says, and Eddie discovers an expression of deep amusement on his face.

“What?” Eddie says defensively, as Hen comes up to kiss him on the cheek.

Hen looks between them. “Chim, he’s the guest of honor, be nice.”

“I literally didn’t do anything!” Chimney protests, even as he’s laughing.

“Dude, what,” Eddie says.

“Just soaking it in,” Chimney says. “How much Buck totally, completely owns you.”

Eddie opens his mouth, to say what he doesn’t know, and then closes it. Hen grins.

“Chris, hey,” Chimney says, before anything else can be said about that. Christopher hugs Hen and Chimney before colliding very gently with Eddie.

Eddie breathes in the smell of Christopher’s hair. “Where’s your mom, buddy?”

“She and Blue are over there talking to Buck,” Christopher says. “Can I have cake?”

“Of course,” Eddie says, making to get up, and Chimney flaps a hand at him.

“Stay there, I’ll hook him up. Can’t have Buck’s orders disobeyed,” he says, and whisks Christopher off with a wink.

Eddie mutters under his breath and Hen laughs.

A few minutes later, Buck comes back, depositing cake in his lap and double checking that he hasn’t moved an inch, and Hen confirms it with a shit-eating grin. Buck sits next to Eddie, tangling their fingers together for a moment before he lets Eddie have his hand to eat.

Soon everyone has cake, and the whole group is there, talking, laughing, and Eddie eats his cake and is content to listen. Bobby is telling a story about Buck – Buck 1.0, pre-Eddie, he assures everyone, to laughs. Blue chats with Karen and Hen for a while, and then with Buck, and Shannon seems to be making friends with Maddie, and a little way away Denny, Harry, and Christopher are engaged in some unheard but clearly important conversation, possibly about a bug, and May is rolling her eyes, pretending to be too old for whatever they’re talking about.

“No more stories, Cap,” Buck pleads, taking a break from arm-wrestling Blue.

“One more, c’mon, remember Christmas when you were a probie?” Bobby says. The look of outrage on Buck’s face speaks for itself. Everyone laughs, Blue and Shannon too, like they’re part of the group, and shit, Eddie thinks they might be.

“Are we sharing embarrassing stories?” Shannon says when the laughter dies down, and Hen and Chimney turn to her with faces of pure delight. Buck sits up straighter.

“Oh my God, yes, give us the dirt,” Hen says. “You’ve known Eddie since you were kids, right?”

“Shan,” Eddie says. “Shannon, no. I’m weak – I’m injured – “

“Since we were six and he used to take his underwear off and hide it in the potted plants so no one would notice,” Shannon says, and the group dissolves into laughter. Eddie hides his face in his hands.

“Mercy,” he says, unheard.

“Can I bribe you to share some stuff about her?” Blue says quietly, having drifted to Eddie’s side.

“Uh,” Eddie says. “She might kill me?”

“I’ll totally protect you,” Blue says, which bears some weight considering they just beat Buck at arm-wrestling about five times, and behind them Eddie hears Shannon saying, “And he’ll tell you that he had the flu when he went to see Santa, two years in a row - “

“You know what, sure,” he says. Someone turns on music and he doesn’t get any further because Buck’s lifting him gently out of his seat. He twists to look at Blue. “Uh, in a bit? Don’t worry, I’ve got the good stuff.”

“Go dance with your man,” Blue says with an easy grin, and strikes up a conversation with Chimney as Buck whisks him away.

“Do you know how to dance?” Eddie says after they’ve been swaying together for a while.

“We’re dancing right now.” Buck gets adventurous and turns them in a slow circle.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Eddie says. “When I have both hands available, I’ll show you what real dancing is.”

“Promise?” Buck says, holding Eddie closer.

“I promise,” he breathes, and kisses Buck until the heckling gets too disruptive.

Eddie leans his head on Buck’s shoulder and lets Buck sway the two of them awkwardly, and just listens. Listens to Buck’s quiet breathing, and the beat of his heart, and to the voices and laughter around them. A halo of warmth, with Eddie at the sweet center.

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