Archive of Our Own ^beta

The night outside is thinning into dawn. Eddie’s been awake for close to 24 hours; once Bobby’s funeral turned into Bobby’s resurrection, his day got a lot longer. Then he had to rush to the airport to pick up Chris and bring him back to Los Angeles, stupid early, so he can ride the bus back out of Los Angeles and to the summer camp he’s been going to for the past few years.

Eddie was happy to do it, even if he’d rather be doing it on a full night of sleep. The bus ride in is one of Chris’s favorite parts of camp. And he needed the time in the car to talk to Chris, to tell him about Bobby – and ask about moving back.

After seeing Bobby come back from the dead, Eddie was too giddy and too happy and honestly, too sleep-deprived to stop himself from asking, to sink into the thousand reasons why it’s all doomed. He asks. And Chris says yes.

They’re parked a little bit down the road from the bus pick-up. Only a few kids are there so far, and Chris isn’t making moves to leave yet, so Eddie’s gonna savor the moment as long as he can.

"I wanted to ask right away, when you left," Eddie says, feeling suddenly like he needs to explain himself. "But. I didn’t think you’d say yes." His eyes sting. "Didn’t think I really had the right to ask anymore."

"Of course you did," Chris says, surprised, like it was never in question.

"Oh," Eddie says. Clears his throat.

"Dad – " Chris finds him a restaurant napkin to wipe his eyes with. They’re in Buck’s Jeep, and Buck saves things from restaurants – napkins, sauce packets, straws – with almost neurotic care. "No crying at drop-off."

Chris has tried to enforce this rule every year. His first year at camp, Eddie monologued at him in an impassioned way about how he could come home any time, call any time of day or night and Eddie would come get him, and by the end of it, yes, Eddie did have tears streaming down his face, like any parent would. After that, Eddie tried to save the monologue for the car.

"I’m not crying." Eddie presses the napkin to one eye, then the other. "There, I’m done."

"But you’re gonna cry when I leave, too. You always do."

"Because I love you," Eddie says. "Because you’re my baby."

Chris rolls his eyes, but with a smile, and it hits Eddie suddenly that soon Chris will be rolling his eyes at him under their own roof in Los Angeles, and his lips quiver.

"Dad," Chris says, laughing at him.

"Just remember," Eddie says, "That you can call me anytime. If you need anything."

"I know, Dad. But I gotta go now," Chris says in a placating way, like Eddie’s the child in this situation.

Eddie gets his bags out and gives Chris a long hug, smelling his hair that smells the same as it has since he was a baby. And then he lets him go, because Chris is starting to look actually embarrassed, and he gets out of there.

When he gets back to the hospital, he finds Buck hanging around the waiting room.

"Hey," Buck says. His voice is hoarse, and he looks too tired to still be upright, but he still looks better than he has. That bone-deep sorrow is gone from his face. "You ready to head back?"

"Are you?" Eddie asks. "I figured you would want to stick around a while."

Buck shakes his head, a slow, exhausted movement. "Athena and the kids are with him. I think they, uh, they need a minute."

"Before we go," Eddie says. He has to wipe sweaty palms on his pants; still his funeral suit, he hasn’t had a chance to change. "You know what I said about, uh, your couch? If I needed to leave El Paso?"

"Yeah?" Buck says. "You’re not – after all that, you’re not – "

"I’m not giving up," Eddie says. His heart’s pounding; Eddie has a dim urge to take his own pulse. "I talked to Chris before I dropped him off, and long story short, we’re coming home."

"You’re." Buck blinks. He’s so still, Eddie thinks he might not even be breathing. "Really?"

"No, I’m kidding, because that would be really funny," Eddie says, deadpan, and then he’s laughing in an iron hug. "Know anywhere we can stay?" he says into Buck’s shoulder.

"I think I might," Buck says, "but, ooh, you are not gonna like your roommate."

"Is that so," Eddie says, and they’re both exhausted, rough with stubble, still in their funeral clothes, but they’re smiling at each other like idiots.

Footfalls in time down the hall, to the elevator, across the lobby, the parking lot, and Eddie wonders how he’s ever gone a moment without Buck by his side. The sun’s coming up, spilling warmth into the sky. Eddie tosses his keys at Buck’s head and Buck catches them almost without looking. The breeze is soft, and Eddie wants to laugh at nothing at all, for the sheer joy of the sound.

"So – remind me how long Chris is away?"

"Two weeks."

Buck sighs, slumping into a dramatic sprawl. "That’s forever."

"Well, it’ll give me time to figure everything out. School and stuff – I guess I’ll have to hire movers…" Eddie drums his fingers on his leg.

"Can, uh. Can you afford movers?" Buck says.

"Not really," Eddie says. "I’ll figure it out."

They pull into the driveway. Buck turns off the car, leaving the engine clicking as it cools.

Buck shakes his head. "I just, I can’t believe this is all happening. Like, I literally can’t believe it. Am I losing my mind?"

"Nope," Eddie says, "no more than usual."

"Well," Buck says softly, "then it’s a miracle. It’s a whole lot of miracles."

They share a look that holds for a good long time. The sun keeps sneaking up over the horizon. Eddie’s on the wrong side of the sunrise plenty often, but this feels different. He feels young, is what it is, young in a way he hasn’t felt for years, and when Buck starts to smile at him, there’s a pop of nervous energy behind his breastbone.

"I guess I need to start looking for a place, huh," Buck says, abruptly looking down.

"Why would you do that?" Eddie says. Adds, before Buck can speak, "No, listen, can we not worry about it for now? If you end up hating living with us you obviously don’t have to stay."

Buck gives him a bit of a strange look and says, "I feel like – uh, it might get a little cramped with only two bedrooms."

"We’ll figure it out," Eddie says. "I don’t know. Make you sleep in the backyard." Buck laughs. "Or just share the room."

"That feels like, uh," Buck says, and then just doesn’t finish that sentence. "But we could for tonight – today, I mean, if you wanna crash too. Your elderly bones can’t be taking that couch too well."

"You’re too kind," Eddie says dryly.

Buck shrugs, kinda red. He splutters out a few syllables, but in the end doesn’t say anything more.

It hasn’t been long enough for their old habits to fade. Eddie showers first, military-fast, and leaves Buck to dick around with his fifty different hair products. He slides into bed – if the familiar room made him almost forget that it’s Buck’s house, the memory foam mattress certainly brings that reality back – and stretches luxuriously. Then he notices that he’s on Buck’s side of the bed – nightstand occupied with clutter, a knocked-over bottle of lotion, a box of tissues.

Eddie flushes hard, shoving himself over to the other side of the bed. He scrolls on his phone, trying to act normally, mindless to the point that he’s not absorbing a thing.

Tension pings in his gut suddenly, before he consciously notices Buck, standing in the doorway and toweling his head, not looking at Eddie, and Eddie feels what he imagines Buck must feel some of the time; the urge to chatter, to fill the silence, but he stays quiet. He can’t stop watching Buck, as he finishes with his hair, hanging the towel on the hook on the back of the door with slow, deliberate movements. Buck closes the door, and uneasy electricity shoots down Eddie’s spine. He’s stuck in his head thinking about how they’ve never been alone, in Buck’s room or Eddie’s, with the door closed. It takes him a moment to realize he’s staring at Buck. Eddie snaps his eyes back to his phone.

Buck keeps moving slowly, not with any intense precision, but like he’s performing each action for the first time, experiencing every minute detail of it. He tosses the covers back on his side, exposing part of Eddie’s side, his hip, his thigh, and gets in bed.

Suddenly Eddie’s not sure of anything. He’s not sure which way is up, he’s not sure what the look in Buck’s eye means, he isn’t sure what he’ll do if he keeps looking at Buck. So he stops looking Buck in the eye and looks at his mouth and then, whoops, back to his eyes.

Eddie almost apologizes. Buck has a stunned look about him, like he just got slapped.

Before Eddie can say anything, Buck apologizes with a weird, nervous laugh, and turns over fast enough that he rips the blanket halfway off of Eddie and doesn’t notice. Eddie doesn’t say anything about it. He stares at the back of Buck’s neck, listening to his breathing, and he starts to feel a little cold as he gets drowsy, but after a while he subsides into sleep.

When he wakes up, he’s warm.

"Mmm," he sighs. His face is mashed into someone’s shoulder, a shoulder that smells familiar and very nice. Eddie shifts lazily closer, and an arm wraps around him, sleepily squeezes him around the waist.

He’s so comfortable, but his brain’s starting to work, surfacing out of sleep. And as he wakes up fully, he comprehends that it’s Buck’s shoulder, and Buck’s arm around him, and Buck’s legs tangled with his.

"Eddie," Buck says quietly. "Eddie?"

"Nh," Eddie says to Buck’s shoulder. He has Buck’s arm held close like a stuffed animal, and he hugs it closer.

"I – I can’t actually tell if you’re awake or not."

"No," Eddie says blurrily, and Buck huffs an amused breath.

"Okay. Well, uh, I kinda need to take a piss, could you – "

Eddie mashes his face harder against Buck’s shoulder for a second, and sighs deeply. Making himself roll off Buck, he flips him off sleepily, and hears Buck laugh as he slides out of bed. Eddie gets further revenge by rolling into the warmth that Buck left behind.

"You’re gonna have to move over," Buck says, and Eddie jolts awake again.

"What? No. Shut up," he says incoherently, and closes his eyes.

Buck pushes at his shoulder gently, and Eddie snatches his hand out of the air. "Quit it," Eddie says. "Sleeping."

"I could be sleeping too, but you took my spot."

"Aaargh," Eddie says, and rolls over, and then right back when Buck lies down. Buck makes a sound of surprise, arm going right back around Eddie as Eddie flops halfway across his chest.

"Eddie?" Buck says. Eddie doesn’t answer; he’s asleep.

When he wakes up for real, he’s alone in bed. He finds Buck in just his sleep shorts, rooting aimlessly through the fridge.

"Hey," Eddie rasps.

"Hey."

"Thanks for being my pillow," Eddie says.

"Thanks for drooling on me," Buck says, "and whispering in my ear in like, the language of Satan."

"Oh, no problem," Eddie says. "Hey."

"There is no fucking food in this house. I can’t even remember the last time I went grocery shopping." Buck sounds like he’s talking to himself. He looks at Eddie. "What’s up?"

"Did someone dose me before Bobby’s funeral yesterday, or is Bobby – " The words stick in his throat.

"Yeah," Buck says. "He – he’s alive."

"Bobby’s alive?" Eddie says, to hear it again.

Buck laughs, and bounds over to grab Eddie in a hug.

"Bobby’s alive," he says, and Eddie whoops a laugh and grabs Buck by the back of the neck to give him a joyful shake. Buck stops hugging him, but only sort of, because he’s still got an arm wrapped around Eddie, his hand on Eddie’s back, and Eddie’s hand is still on the back of Buck’s neck, and they’re looking at each other from about six inches apart.

Nervous energy bursts behind Eddie’s sternum, summery fizz that makes him swallow hard in the split second before they kiss. It’s a still, halting kiss, like they’re both too scared to move, too scared to breathe. Buck breaks the kiss, but only for a split-second breath, and then he kisses Eddie like he means it. With their lips all – fitted together and his mouth opening against Eddie’s, and Eddie’s going hot all over, his head spinning, which is probably why he stumbles back a little, which is when Buck presses him back into some wall somewhere. Eddie lets it take his weight and lets Buck kiss his lips apart, the slick sound of their tongues together, the gruff sound in Buck’s throat, Eddie’s grabbing at him, at his back and his hair and his big fucking arms, and Buck’s hands are creeping down Eddie’s back towards his ass, and Eddie getting pretty damn hard right about when the washing machine starts to sing its song, and they jerk apart.

"I put – put in a load of laundry," Buck says. He’s breathing hard, staring at Eddie wide-eyed.

"Laundry’s great," Eddie says. He sounds wrecked. He clears his throat. "I love laundry."

"Oh, uh, m-me too," Buck says, nodding. And he glances at Eddie’s lips, and Eddie feels his ears go hot.

"Yeah, me too," Eddie murmurs.

Buck steps away before he can lean back in.

"I should go switch that over," Buck says.

When Buck comes back, the mood has broken. The air is awkward, delicate as tissue paper. Eddie’s not sure what they just did, or, well. He knows what they did. He’s not sure what it means.

But Eddie chickens out before he can ask, and instead, he says, "Wanna go get takeout for dinner?"

"Sure! I mean, I could always make something." Buck sounds almost relieved by the subject change.

"Nah, man, take the night off," Eddie says.

They eat tacos by the beach. By the time they’re done, the sun’s tired out, and brilliant sunset going faded, and their stretch of beach is empty.

"Holy fuck is it hot," Eddie says. He stretches his legs out in front of him, luxuriating in it. He kind of likes it, the heat, if he’s being honest. Even when it’s a bit too much.

"This is the start of that heat wave," Buck says. "We should go swimming."

"Yeah, maybe – that beach we went to with Chris last year was nice."

"No, I mean now. We can just swim here," Buck says, and his hands go to the button on his jeans.

"We don’t have swimsuits," Eddie says dumbly, staring at Buck’s fingers opening his jeans.

"So? No one’s here. We can skinny dip."

Eddie can’t remember how to move his body. Buck turns away and lowers his shorts, his boxer briefs, and Eddie goes lightheaded, short of breath, as more and more and more skin is revealed. There’s a shock through him, a spark of adrenaline, as Buck’s ass, milk-pale, is revealed. He’s shaking with it, a feeling he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager, watching Shannon pull off her blouse for the first time with that look on her face, determined, nervous, and feeling his heart pound, thinking is she really gonna? She’s gonna – naked? She’s taking her clothes off? – heart-thrumming thrill of that line being crossed.

Eddie’s changed next to Buck probably hundreds of times. But he’s never looked at him before. He has to hastily close his mouth when he realizes he’s gaping like an idiot.

"Eddie?" Buck, almost at the water’s edge, turns back. He’s highlighted with watery sunset light, orange gold, the hair on his legs and arms and chest practically glowing.

"Ngh," Eddie says, as Buck turns more. His cock, soft, still making Eddie’s mouth water. His thighs flex, his chest damp with sweat. Eddie has to close his mouth a second time. "I, uh. What – what?"

"You coming?"

Eddie blinks at him. "Coming." His eyes run over Buck before he can think better of it. He’s put on weight lately. Muscle, but fat too, and he doesn’t look soft exactly; Eddie can’t find the word for how he looks. Sometimes when his belt is tight, it squeezes him noticeably at the hips, plush spill over-top of it.

"Into the water?" Buck says. His eyebrows are sky-high.

"Yes!" Eddie says, jolting into action. "Yeah, yes. You go ahead. I’m right behind you."

When Buck shrugs and turns, Eddie shucks his shorts and his boxers, and wades quickly into the water, diving under as soon as it’s deep enough. He needs a little calming down before Buck looks at him.

The water is cold, a shivery shock to the system that clears Eddie’s mind clean empty.

"Holy shit dude, I feel so much better." Buck is treading water, eyes closed in bliss.

"Yeah." Eddie swims out to join him. "I think my brain was starting to melt."

Buck gives him a quizzical look. "How would anyone tell the difference?" He splutters when Eddie splashes him right in the face. "Oh, you’re going down."

He tries to tackle Eddie, and just ends up hurling himself into the water as Eddie dodges away. Buck surfaces, glaring.

"That was your fault," Eddie says, biting his lip, not that it holds his smile back.

It’s dark by the time they go back to land, and cooler, if not by much. Naked under moonlight, Buck is completely unselfconscious.

"Hey," Eddie says, catching Buck by the arm. His face must be all too vulnerable, the way he can’t stop looking up at Buck, the pull of his brows into some expression too helpless and open to name. He pulls Buck in until he’s close enough for Eddie to wrap an arm around his waist.

"I – " Buck says, barely more than an exhale, but Eddie kisses him before he can say anything more.

They kiss for a long time. Eddie keeps meaning to pause, get some air, but he needs Buck’s lips more than air. He finally does break the kiss with a curse when the last of the space between them disappears and Buck’s hard cock meets his body.

"Shit," Buck says. There’s a thread of arousal in his voice that’s making the blood roar in Eddie’s ears. Eddie takes a deliberate step forward so that they’re all pressed together. They start kissing again. It’s getting messy, ludicrously messy, and then Buck starts pushing Eddie down to the sand, until Eddie’s on his back.

He can barely see Buck’s face, but he can see it enough. Buck’s lips find his, insistent, insinuating. The give and press of Buck’s lips and tongue, the sharp hint of his teeth, Eddie threads his fingers into Buck’s wet hair and takes all that he’s offered.

Buck shifts over him, and Eddie realizes he’s braced above Eddie, not letting their bodies touch, and Eddie hooks a leg over Buck’s, pulling him down. Buck’s as hard as Eddie, blood-hot against him, right against him. And they start to move together.

The air is soft and warm, the only light from the distant moon. It has the texture of a dream, strange and beautiful and impossible. Buck’s hands are reverent on Eddie’s skin. Eddie likes the feeling of him so much that he doesn’t even care about the sand that’s sticking to his back.

"Eddie," Buck says, barely more than a breath.

Eddie finds a delicious angle, a minute working of his hips that makes his toes curl – it makes his core burn, but that doesn’t matter. Everything’s pleasure right now, every feeling leads to good.

"I’m," he says, barely audible even to himself.

"Yeah?" Buck says breathlessly with a pleased slant to his voice.

Eddie answers with a kiss. He means for it to be fierce and almost rough, but it ends up painfully slow and tender. Buck kisses Eddie’s chin, and his jaw, and licks at Eddie’s neck, sucks until he’s drawing a sparking pain from his skin and Eddie is writhing more than rutting, and then makes a confused, choked noise against Eddie’s skin – and Eddie moans, the pulse of Buck’s cock against his, the muffled noises Buck’s making against Eddie’s skin, still sucking like he can’t remember how to let go. The ache of it, the hot pulse of Buck, Eddie’s arching, throwing his head back, and he moans too loudly for where they are and drags Buck off his neck for a sloppy, panting kiss.

Buck wrenches his lips away. "Eddie," he gasps. "Eddie – marry me, Eddie, marry me, marry me - "

"God, Buck," Eddie moans. He grabs at Buck nonsensically, to no end at all, and he’s coming, must be painting Buck’s skin with it. His head’s filled with static by the time it’s over, breathing hard, and he can’t think in words, just pictures in his head. Him and Buck, the way they’ve been, disconnected in every way, by miles of distance and phone screens and biting arguments. And then, in flashes, sliding a ring onto Buck’s finger, kissing him, and the picture of the two of them seems to repair itself into a golden whole, and Eddie says, "Yes," and Buck says, "Yes?" and Eddie says, "Yes."

His whole body feels limp with exhaustion. He clings to Buck’s neck, and feels the low rumble of his laugh.

After a while, Buck peels himself off of Eddie and stands, offering Eddie a hand up. Eddie curses, feeling the sand drying on his back, the come drying on his front. They don’t even have towels.

"Fucking sand," Eddie complains.

Buck ducks his head and smiles. "We should probably get out of here. We already pushed our luck pretty hard, someone could show up anytime."

Eddie imagines calling Bobby to say the words "we can’t come to visit you after you came back from the dead because we were both arrested for indecent exposure" and shudders.

"Let’s go home," Buck says.

They walk in the front door of Eddie’s house and Eddie takes a deep breath, preparing to relax into the air conditioning. Instead, the air is still and hot.

"Is the AC out?" Buck says.

"Maybe it just turned off," Eddie says.

It didn’t. Buck calls his repair guy.

"He said this is the worst time to have a broken AC," Buck reports after he hangs up. ("No shit," Eddie mutters.) "But he’ll come by at the end of the week, maybe sooner if he has an opening."

Buck goes rummaging through the various closets, and comes back with an ancient box fan. They both have to shower again, and then they park themselves on top of the blankets on the bed. Eddie’s sweating lying there in just boxer shorts, and it’s so hot he can’t even appreciate Buck’s shirtlessness. Or not enough, anyway. The fan is helping a tiny bit, at least, enough that he thinks he might live.

"This kind of heat always reminds me of being a kid," Eddie says eventually. He’s not doing anything, just staring at the ceiling.

"Did you know," Buck says. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen a picture of you as a kid."

"You must have. I’ve seen a thousand of you," Eddie says, and Buck shakes his head. Eddie opens his texts with his sisters, finding some of the family pictures they’d been sharing a while ago. "Here."

Buck takes the phone. "Always had that ass on you, huh?"

"Don’t look at my child ass, you freak."

"I’m looking at your current ass, thank you very much. And you know, I was pretty impressed, but now that I know it’s just a genetic gift and not from working out – "

"Please." Eddie scoffs. "I work out plenty."

"Whatever, bro, I work out way more. Not all of us can coast on our looks."

"Right, you’re really hurting in the looks department," Eddie says dryly. "I might not be a workout freak like you are, but I’m in just as good shape."

"Is that so," Buck says, and Eddie’s got no clue when he got that close. Then they’re kissing, moving like they’re trapped in the slow motion of a dream.

When Buck blankets Eddie’s body with his own, when they move together in the choking heat, it feels familiar even though it also feels new, shiny new with fresh paint. Buck’s hands hold his shoulders so tenderly that his throat is aching, and his own fingers dig into the softness of Buck’s sides, hard enough to make him gasp. Waves of heat, arousal, heat, the waves of their motion together, until Buck comes gasping against Eddie’s lips and Eddie comes too, without even realizing he was close, just from the sounds of Buck’s pleasure. And he thinks, and wonders if Buck is thinking, that this is the man he’s going to marry.

Eddie wakes up already overheating, but it turns out the blanket wrapped around him is actually Buck, his back to Buck’s chest. He turns slowly in Buck’s arms until he can look Buck in the face. Buck breathes steadily, oblivious to Eddie’s eyes on him.

After a while the room starts heating up and Eddie sighs, easing out of Buck’s hold to go around closing the windows and the curtains to keep in the little amount of cool air that the night brought. When he quietly re-enters the bedroom, he finds Buck already awake.

"Hey," Buck says, sleep-rough.

"Hey," Eddie breathes, and then he’s being kissed so thoroughly and slowly that he forgets how to think. He climbs on top of Buck, and Buck grabs his waist with firm hands as they make out lazily with no real direction to it.

The kisses get slower, further apart, until Eddie’s just resting his forehead against Buck’s, Buck sneaking in occasional pecks to his lips.

"So," Buck says eventually. "Fiancé."

"That’s me," Eddie says.

"Hungry?"

"Yeah."

"I’ll make something?"

"Okay," Eddie says. He’s smiling like an idiot. "This has better keep up once we’re actually married. I’m never making myself breakfast again."

"Chris will be so disappointed," Buck says, and Eddie tickles him under the arms in revenge. Buck yelps and writhes and rolls them, dumping Eddie onto his back.

"You’re mean." Eddie tilts his face up for a kiss. Buck’s face goes blank and stunned all at once. He leans down, Eddie leans up, they meet in the middle and then Eddie’s humming against Buck’s lips, around his tongue. Buck’s just so good at kissing.

"I really should get up," Buck breathes, and kisses down Eddie’s neck anyway.

"Don’t – don’t start something you’re not gonna finish," Eddie says, a little shake in his voice.

Buck bites him delicately and laughs, and then he’s pushing off of Eddie and up, out of bed.

"I didn’t mean you should stop," Eddie says, a little out of breath, body missing Buck’s weight. "I meant you should, you know. Finish it."

"I know," Buck says with poorly disguised amusement. "But I need to go to the store for breakfast stuff. I’ll be quick."

Eddie subsides, because he does want breakfast. "I can come with you," he says with no conviction.

"Just stay in bed," Buck laughs. "Let me do all the work."

Eddie goes back to sleep for a bit, more from the increasing heat than anything else. That’s until his phone rings. He startles awake, groggy and out of it. Which is probably why he answers without checking who’s calling.

"’lo?" he says thickly.

"Eddie. Are you sleeping? It’s almost nine."

Eddie sits up fast, shedding the skin of sleep. "Mom?"

"Sweetheart," his mom says. "I just wanted to check in, see how dropping Chris off went."

"It went fine, Mom. It – " Eddie winces deeply, remembering what he talked about with Chris.

"Eddie?"

"It went great." He takes a breath. "We had a conversation, and we decided we’re going to be moving back to California."

There’s a pause.

"And Bobby’s alive," he adds.

"Yes, I saw that on the news."

A moment stretches, Eddie alone with his phone to his ear and occasional faint static down the line.

"This is all fantastic, of course," she says. "I wish you had let me know right when it happened, but I’m glad it did."

"It was just yesterday. And it’s been a busy couple of days," Eddie says. He winces, remembering just how busy it’s been – beach sex proposals and all – but he’ll save that for another conversation.

"I’m surprised you would send him away, what with everything going on."

"I’m not sending him away, Mom, he’s at summer camp," Eddie says.

She hums lightly. "Are you sure that’s what he thinks about it?"

"Am I...sure he thinks he’s at summer camp?" Eddie says. It’s too hot for him to try and play nice.

"I’m just saying," she says. "It would be a shame if he felt rejected, right after that conversation you two had."

"Right." Eddie rubs at his forehead. "Thank you for the concern, but Chris is good."

"And you? This all has to be – quite chaotic."

"I’m fine," he says carefully. "We’re all doing a lot better now that we’ve got Bobby back again."

Silence.

"Thanks for asking."

Silence again, and a little intake of breath before she says, "That’s good. I was worried you might start having mental health issues again." She almost whispers the words mental health, like she’s talking about a rash in an embarrassing place.

"What the hell does that mean?" Eddie says.

"Don’t snap at me, Edmundo. Your PTSD, dear. I would hate it if there was another...another incident."

Eddie’s vision seems to shimmer, his heartbeat loud in his ears. It must still be hot in here, but his hands are ice fucking cold.

"What?" he says numbly.

"Don’t tell me you forgot about smashing holes in your walls," his mom says, with a light laugh.

Eddie closes his eyes, shakes his head, this is not the moment to freak out. "Who told you that," he says.

"I called the department, sweetie, just trying to figure out what was going on with you. You go to LA all of a sudden and leave Chris, and then I see that on the news about your captain and you aren’t talking to us – you can see why I was worried, can’t you? You’ve been a bit, well, impulsive lately." A sting of humiliation; she means Kim, of course. "And no wonder – if you’ve been dealing with this. That’s a serious thing, Eddie. I wish you’d told us."

"They can’t tell you that. That’s private information." He sounds like a child. He wants to throw his phone at the wall.

"I’m your mother. They understood that I had a right to know."

Eddie could scream. Only in the chaos of the last couple days could she have done this. Distantly, he wonders how many people she had to call, who she managed to convince. Who finally told her the details.

"I’m fine," Eddie says. He makes his mind go distant, pushing away the flaying feel of talking about this with his mother. It was probably Gerrard who gave his mother the information, he decides. Gerrard specializes in fucking people over, like he’s got an extra sense for it. "It was because of Afghanistan, it’s not gonna come up here. It’s under control."

"It came up there before," his mom says. "Parenting is stressful, you know. I’m just checking on you."

"I’m fine. And I have to go."

"Eddie," she says, with a scolding tone. He’s gripping the phone hard.

"Errands, you know. Talk soon?"

She sighs. "Sure. Bye, then, I guess."

"Bye," Eddie says, and there’s a loaded silence, a little intake of breath like his mom’s about to say something more. He hangs up before she can.

Buck comes back, cheerful and bearing a couple breakfast sandwiches instead of ingredients.

"Bobby texted, said I can come by again today," he tells Eddie cheerfully, throwing him a sandwich.

"Oh?" Eddie says vaguely, and then actually processes the words. "Oh! That’s great, Buck. How’s he doing?"

"Eh, you know Bobby," Buck says, "he’s probably trying to convince the department to let him come back to work already."

Eddie chuckles, a little weakly. Buck’s absolutely shining with happiness, talking about Bobby’s curmudgeonly ways, and Eddie doesn’t want to shit on that. It just feels a little far away.

"Um," Buck says. He scratches at the back of his neck, and he says, a little too intensely, "Did you wanna come with?"

Eddie almost cracks a feeble joke, dude, you’re acting like you’re proposing – but then, right. That already happened.

Misdirected irritation prickles over him, a hangover from talking to his mom. He wants Buck to stop looking at him like that, stop acting like – Eddie doesn’t even know. He just wants Buck to stop.

"No," Eddie says, flat enough that it leaves them both on a hesitant pause. "No, I actually – Hen texted. I was thinking of stopping by hers in a little bit anyway." He picks up his phone (containing zero texts from Hen outside of the group text) and waves it at Buck.

"Cool," Buck says.

"Cool," Eddie says, and they look at each other for a long, awkward moment before they go their separate ways.

"So," Karen says. "Nice of you to drop by." She’s giving him a steely look. "This wouldn’t be about some second thoughts? About Texas?"

"I just wanted to see how you guys are doing," Eddie says.

"If you say so," she says. "Even though you’re in our kitchen instead of in El Paso…"

She nudges Hen, who says, "And instead of talking to Buck."

"Jesus, guys," Eddie says, raising his hands up. "No need for the interrogation. I’m not in El Paso because I’m moving back here, and I’m not talking to Buck about it because he already knows. Everything’s good."

They exchange a look. For a moment, Eddie regrets not going to the hospital with Buck.

"And things with Buck," Karen says. "That’s good too?"

"I think that falls under ‘everything’," Eddie says.

"You know what she means," Hen laughs. "You two were a little off before you left."

"Okay, well, we’re fine now, we worked it out," Eddie says, choosing to keep the particular method of beach-sex-plus-proposal to himself. It still kind of feels like it’s written all over his face.

Hen narrows her eyes at him, but Eddie doesn’t have more than a moment to sweat over it before his phone lights up. Helena Diaz is calling, the screen says. He watches it ring out and go to voicemail.

"Eddie," Karen says, loudly, like she’s been saying it.

"Yeah," Eddie says, with a shake of his head. "Sorry. What?"

"You okay?"

"Fine. Just my mom."

"You usually travel to another dimension when your mom calls?" says Karen.

"Just…" He waves a hand vaguely. "I already talked to her this morning. She’s not happy about Chris and me moving back. If I talk to her I’m just gonna get a lecture on why Texas is the best place for him."

"Why would it be?" Hen says. "You and Chris fixed things. It’s not better for him to be hundreds of miles away from his home."

"They would do it better, I’m a shitty dad, the sky will fall if he grows up rooting for California sports teams instead of Texas teams. Pick your reason."

"You just," Hen says. "You look worried. Are you thinking you’ll have to go back after all?"

Eddie opens his mouth to say no, but there isn’t enough air to say it with. He falls halfway into a memory. Waking up with a start to his phone ringing, the screen bright in the dark room. Maddie’s voice, raw. The list of everyone who was alive, and the one person who wasn’t. Then she was gone and Eddie couldn’t stop crying. And there was no one to comfort him. He hadn’t even realized how used to it he had become, having someone to lean on, until he was alone in the dark.

He can’t go back. He can’t. He’s sure, sure as he’s in this room now, that if he goes back, he’ll end up in the same place, crying in the dark. Another phone call. Someone else dead. And Eddie will be too far away to do a thing about it.

"It’s okay," Hen is saying. She’s standing next to him, her hand gently rubbing between his shoulder blades. "Just breathe, Eddie."

But Eddie can’t.

Eventually, of course, he can. "I’m sorry," he says.

Hen sits slowly back in her chair. She’s got a tear trailing down her face. "You don’t have to be sorry."

"I don’t actually think I’ll have to go back," Eddie says. "I just." He doesn’t go on.

"We’re all having a hard time," Hen says. "Bobby’s okay, but we all saw a world where he wasn’t. That doesn’t just go away."

"I didn’t know you were having a tough time with it," Eddie says.

"I’m not exactly gonna broadcast it," Hen says. Karen, who’s been so still Eddie almost forgot she was there, takes Hen’s hand. "He’s alive. That’s what matters."

"Right, and also," Eddie says, "how you’re doing matters."

Hen sighs roughly. "Not really." Karen shifts in her seat. "The man is alive. What am I going to do, go ream him out while he’s in the hospital? Tell him I, I can’t believe he did that, that I’m so fucking mad at him for sacrificing himself for us that I could choke the life out of his – "

She slaps a hand over her own mouth, her eyes shocked. Her shoulders shake. Karen’s got her other hand in a death grip.

"Maybe not exactly those words," Eddie says. Hen hiccups a laugh. "But you can talk to him about it, Hen. He’ll get it."

She nods, swallows, and says in a controlled voice, "Don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging talking about your own fucked up feelings."

"Hen, I’m really fine," Eddie says.

She rolls her eyes at him. "You’re talking to Buck?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, because it’s basically true.

"Good," Hen says. She gets up, smacking him on the head on her way past. "That’s for making me cry." She disappears into the bathroom.

"Thanks for getting her to talk a little," Karen says quietly, once the door shuts behind Hen. "I’ve been really worried about her. She’s too good at keeping stuff in sometimes."

Eddie has to leave eventually, but he doesn’t go home. He walks aimlessly, then ducks into a restaurant for a slow lunch when the heat becomes too unbearable. He halfway considers dropping in on Chimney, too, but that information will get right back to Buck, and then Buck’s gonna get worried about nothing.

So he goes home. When he walks in the door, Buck is there, looking fresh out of the shower.

"Hey," Eddie says.

"You didn’t tell me your mom called."

Eddie freezes for a split second. "What?"

"You talked to your mom on the phone. Before you went to Hen’s, so I’m thinking it had to be sometime in the half hour I was out getting breakfast." Buck’s voice has an edge. "I don’t get why you wouldn’t say anything."

Eddie shrugs tersely. "I just didn’t. There wasn’t anything to tell."

"Which is why you told Hen and Karen," Buck says. "Kinda getting deja vu here."

"Kinda getting deja vu to you making a huge deal out of every little thing," Eddie mutters.

There’s a moment of quiet, and then Buck says in a controlled way, "Eddie. You – it’s one thing to not tell your best friend shit about your life, but this is – we’re supposed to be together. We’re engaged."

Irritation stings Eddie, and he says, "Yeah, I remember. That doesn’t mean you need to know about every phone call I take."

"I need to know when it’s a call that freaks you out enough to go have a panic attack on Hen," Buck snaps. Before Eddie can respond, he says, "I-I’m sorry, I just want…"

"It’s fine," Eddie says fast, before Buck can say what he wants.

"We’ve gotta share our lives, right?" Buck’s smiling now, tentative, and the irritation is only getting sharper in Eddie. "We’re gonna be – married."

Married; and what felt so right as a thought yesterday – was it only yesterday? – sounds awkward now, like a shabby, ill-fitting suit. Like when he and Shannon got married, the outfit he wore, cobbled together out of pieces of his prom tux and his father’s suit jacket – which had been too big on him not long ago, but Eddie was still growing, and it was too small, sleeves short enough that his wrists were showing. Waiting at the altar for Shannon, all Eddie could feel was the awkward cling of fabric at his armpits, too tight for his shoulders, and he couldn’t stop wondering if sweat would soak through and he’d have stains under his arms and at his lower back.

"Right," Eddie says.

Buck comes closer to where Eddie’s leaning against the wall, feathers fingertips over Eddie’s forearm, crossed over his chest. Eddie rolls his eyes and frees a hand for Buck to hold, his bad mood giving way all at once.

"So," Buck says. He smiles when Eddie brings their tangled hands to his lips for a kiss. "What did your mom say?"

"I don’t want to spend time on her right now." Eddie brings Buck’s hand to his hip and presses it there. "She doesn’t deserve it."

"It – sounds like you have an idea of how you do wanna spend the time," Buck says, a smile curling in his voice as his fingers dig into Eddie’s hip.

"Let’s go out," Eddie says, because all he wants is to get out of his head, to not think just for a while.

"Out?" Buck says. He looks pleased and a little surprised. It makes it easier for Eddie to slouch into his space, to tease his shirt up at the hip and draw light shapes on his bare skin. Taking a breath, Buck gives Eddie a look.

"We can celebrate," Eddie says. "Fiancé."

"Did you," Buck says, pauses, dives in again. "Tell your mom? About us?"

"Not yet," Eddie says. "I don’t wanna throw too much at her. Already had to cover the whole "Bobby’s back from the dead and me and Chris are moving back home" stuff."

Buck might be about to speak, but he doesn’t get the chance. Eddie kisses him first.

The night passes in pictures. In Buck’s bedroom and Eddie’s digging through his duffle bag; Buck snags a shirt, a simple t-shirt that’s a little tighter than the rest of his, and says, "This one looks nice on you." He walks right out the door to the hall, leaving Eddie stuck staring at where he was, barely breathing, shock of desire sweeping through him.

Out in the city, walking into this bar and that bar, getting shots, ending up covered in glitter and sweat. They wander from tipsy into drunk. Buck’s arm around Eddie’s shoulders, heavy with muscle, sticky with sweat. It’s a little gross and very much too hot; Eddie doesn’t care. Laughing and telling people they’re engaged, grinning at each other, getting free drinks sent to them. Eddie slips his hand into Buck’s back pocket like they’re in an eighties movie, and kisses him pointedly when someone looks at him with a little too much interest.

They don’t go home until late. Attached at the hip, they find their way back. Together.

"Eddie," Buck whispers, and Eddie wakes in darkness with a shock of adrenaline. For a moment he thinks he’s waking up at the station; but Buck wouldn’t wake him up so gently there.

"’sup?" Eddie says blearily.

"Hey," Buck says a little louder. "Uh, I totally forgot I still have a shift today. But just a twelve, I’ll be back tonight."

Eddie reaches for the silhouette of him, snagging fabric. "Call out," he suggests.

"Don’t tempt me," Buck says, a smile in his voice.

"Why not?" Eddie says, but he’s already sinking back under the waters of sleep.

"Look at you," Buck says softly. His warm palm cups Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie nuzzles sleepily into it. "Went and got used to a 9-to-5 schedule."

"Uber isn’t…" Eddie murmurs.

"Shhh." Buck’s lips on his forehead, fingers smoothing his hair. "Go back to sleep."

Stay, Eddie thinks, but he’s beneath the waves now.

Even after he wakes up, Eddie stays in bed for a while dozing, and when it gets too hot to be touching anything made of fabric, he moves to the floor. It’s too hot inside, but he’s got no will to do anything. He wants Buck to come home.

He goes outside eventually, sits in the shade on the back porch. At one point, his mom calls again. He lets her talk and says yes and no and maybe you’re right, and eventually it ends. He stays there, watching the sun go down, until he hears Buck’s voice.

"There you are," he says, coming outside.

"Yeah," Eddie says. He looks at the sky, his eyes unfocused, every muscle sagging, and Buck’s hands close over his upper arms, rubbing up and down. It feels like Eddie falls back into his body; he hadn’t known how distant and numb he felt.

"You okay?" Buck says.

Eddie says, "Yeah. Tired."

He leans back a little and Buck steps closer, taking his weight. One arm wraps around Eddie’s chest, and Eddie utterly melts. He feels liquid, drugged, so relaxed he doesn’t even know where he put his muscles. He turns to face Buck, slowly, like he’s in a dream.

"Missed you today," Buck says quietly. "You okay?"

"Now I am," he says. Buck looks at him, highlighted with dim sunset light. They’re slipping into dream-time again, into the liminal. It makes it easy to touch his face, to kiss him softly on the lips.

They sway together in a hug, until Eddie’s just too sweaty to go on.

"I gotta take a shower," he says.

"I could join you," Buck says, though clearly he showered at the station.

"Or you could think about where we should get dinner," Eddie says, "because there’s no way we’re turning the stove on."

Another few soft kisses, and Eddie detaches. But Buck holds onto him for a second.

"You’re okay, right?" he says, and the concern in his voice makes Eddie grit his teeth.

"Yep," he says, and leaves for the shower. Barely-warm water soothes his overheated skin (and his temper), and eventually he emerges, cracking the door to let humidity escape.

"Of course I understand that," Buck says from the bedroom.

Eddie almost responds before realizing that Buck’s on the phone with someone. He towels his hair off, wipes off the mirror so he can shave.

"That’s not – I-I’m not – "

It’s not like Eddie’s one to eavesdrop, but the tension in Buck’s voice is catching his ear. He makes quick work of shaving, leaves his razor on the sink to dry.

"Because I know him. No – " Creak of floorboards like he’s pacing the room. "Yes, actually. He’s my best friend, we’ve been friends for years. And – "

Eddie pauses halfway through tugging on a shirt. Buck is talking about him – to who?

"Mrs. Diaz," Buck says. Eddie’s heart stalls in his chest. "You – you can’t – I’m not gonna let you freak Eddie out, talking about having Chris move – "

Buck doesn’t complete the sentence, because Eddie’s standing in the bedroom door by then. His mouth is open, eyes wide.

"Hang up the phone," Eddie says quietly.

Buck blinks. "I have to go, Mrs. Diaz. Yeah. Yeah, you too. Bye."

Tap on the screen. Silence.

"What," Eddie says, "the fuck."

"Eddie," Buck says in a placating tone. But he knows he’s fucked up, Eddie can see it. "I – I swear I can – "

"Where do you get off talking to my parents about me? About Chris?"

Buck’s visibly choosing his words so carefully that Eddie wants to hit him. Not enough to injure, but enough to hurt. Enough so Buck will hit him back. Eddie can’t stand being treated like this, not with this delicate care, with Buck watching to see how every word lands.

"You’ve been so freaked out, a-and I, I just, you wouldn’t talk to me, and then this morning while I was leaving I saw…" Buck gives him a pitiful look, and Eddie gets it.

"You saw the texts from my mom?"

"Not on purpose. They just – they came in, and I looked over, and – it seemed important."

Did he see just some of them, or all of them? Let’s talk again today rolling into Please don’t start ignoring us again Eddie into This is important. Christopher comes first. into Please CALL as soon as you get these.

Eddie doesn’t ask, just clenches his jaw tight, nodding.

"I – I just want to help," Buck says.

Eddie laughs, then, rusty, taste of metal in his mouth. "You think that’s helping? Reading my texts? Talking to my mom?"

"You weren’t talking to her– and– and she’s talking about making Chris come back to Texas. Come home, that’s how she said it."

"I assume she’s the one who told you I wasn’t talking to her," Eddie says. "And you believed that."

"Maybe I would’ve had something else to go on if you would’ve just talked to me when I asked you what was wrong," Buck says, petulant.

"Come on." Eddie almost laughs. "I was going to. You didn’t give me much of a chance."

"Yeah, you’re always gonna tell me stuff. But when it comes down to it, you don’t."

Incredibly, Buck actually looks annoyed at Eddie, and that makes the fury roar in Eddie’s blood. He does laugh, now.

"Oh, okay. So you’re mad, and you decide, eh, I think I’ll call his fucking mother and hand her the ammunition she needs to take Chris, make it nice and easy for her to show up here and walk him out the front fucking door!"

He started off low and calm, but now Eddie’s halfway to shouting, his finger in Buck’s face.

"I didn’t give her ammunition. You know I wouldn’t do that," Buck says. "Eddie, Jesus, I’m on your side."

"I thought I knew you wouldn’t talk to my mom behind my back, but I guess I didn’t," Eddie says sharply.

Buck takes a deep breath and exhales it with a settling shake, like a bird smoothing its feathers. Irritation ping, ping, pings down Eddie’s spine.

"I couldn’t let her just try and take Chris. Someone had to do something."

One hand reaches for Eddie – and Eddie steps away, out of reach. A moment of deadly quiet follows. The space between them feels like a third person in the room.

"Don’t tell me how to take care of my kid," Eddie says. Buck flinches back from him, and Eddie goes hot with sharp satisfaction, blood-red pleasure, at the shock and hurt on his face.

"I’m not telling you how to – " Buck shows Eddie his back for a split second before turning back. Another hot pang of satisfaction; Buck’s never walked away from a fight, not as long as Eddie’s known him. "You always do this."

Eddie growls through gritted teeth. "Is right now really the time for your fucking insecurity? Really, Buck?"

There’s disbelief in Buck’s humorless laugh. "There – there’s no way you think I’m insecure. That’s not what this is about – it’s never been about that."

"Could’ve fooled me."

The angrier Buck gets, the more delicate and precise his movements. His hand slices through the air, a neat horizontal cut. "No. No, fuck – this is about – we got engaged, okay. That’s supposed to mean something."

Eddie bites into the inside of his cheek until the pain is too much to stand. He says, "You can’t stop reminding me that we’re engaged. What else am I supposed to think but that you’re insecure?"

Buck laughs again, if it could be called a laugh, looking up as if for help from God.

"Is that why you asked me in the first place? To lock me down?"

A shudder of unsureness across Bucks face, and though he opens his mouth, he doesn’t respond at all.

"Or maybe it’s for this, huh, so you can use it to have a say in shit that’s none of your fucking business, and try and make it seem like I’m the one – " Eddie’s talking fast, trying to outrun the ache rising in his throat. In the end, his voice just strangles into silence mid-sentence. He hadn’t expected to hit pay dirt.

"Yeah, so why’d you say yes?" Buck’s voice is breaking, his lower lip trembling. Always cries, Buck does, when he’s angry enough.

"Do you care?" Eddie says. His voice sounds weird. "Your plan worked. I said yes."

"Didn’t stop you hiding shit from me. Or lying to me."

"How many times can I say it? Not everything is about you, Buck."

"Oh, fuck you," Buck says. "It makes it about me when you lie to my fucking face."

"Seriously." A laugh rips out of Eddie’s throat. "Could you be more dramatic?"

Buck gives him a furious look, and Eddie’s blood surges. He wants Buck to hit him, he wants Buck to scream at him, anything.

But when Buck speaks, it’s quiet. Tired.

"Guess, uh," Buck swallows. "Guess now I know how Shannon felt."

Into the ensuing silence, Eddie makes a sound like the start of a sob, and chokes it off. He stares at the floor, and watches a tear fall and splatter on the hardwood into broken pieces of reflective light.

The floor creaks as Buck moves. He pauses next to Eddie for a long moment. Then he keeps on walking, his footsteps fading, and there’s the quiet sound of the front door closing.

Alone. The ground sways and shimmers, and Eddie sinks down, hands spread for balance, a lopsided wobble. His ass hits the ground, hard.

He stares at the wall, and he thinks about how he is all the worst parts of both his parents, too angry and too cold. Either too far away, or close enough to burn someone to cinders.

He thinks about Buck, the first friend he made in Los Angeles, the first real best friend of his life, the kind of best friend you trust with not just your life but the worst parts of you. And about how he keeps finding ways to fuck it up.

Eddie thinks about how he is always going to be alone, and the blackness swallows him whole.

Time passes. Eddie doesn’t know how much. Eventually, he gets up, takes a piss, stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. He looks exhausted, his mouth pulling into a frown, his eyes red.

Eventually he goes out. Buck’s location is off; Eddie’s not sure if that’s new, a reaction to this latest fight, or if it’s been off for a while. Thanks to the ever-rotating schedule of date nights and babysitting nights and work nights, constantly being renegotiated in the group text that no one ever took Eddie out of, Eddie knows that Chimney and Maddie are having date night, and Jee-Yun is with Hen and Karen. Buck could be at Hen and Karen’s, but if Eddie’s right (and he usually is, when it comes to Buck), then Buck’s not in that kind of mood.

Eddie hits the bars, slipping out of one and into another quick as can be. Finally, he walks into one and there’s Buck, meeting his eyes across the room the second he walks in. But when Eddie makes to come toward him, Buck turns toward the dance floor, quickly lost amongst the crowd there.

Changing course, Eddie snags a stool at the bar instead. He orders a beer, thinks better of it and gets a couple shots instead.

Deja vu. This is one of the bars they hit that night, the night they kissed and got engaged in the space of an hour.

We just got engaged! Buck had yelled that night, so many times. Not for the free shots, or the cheers, or any of it; because he was just that happy about it.

Eddie does one shot, then the other. Fire sinks into his belly, and when the bartender slides him a free shot, Eddie’s smile is genuine.

"Thanks," he says.

"Least I can do," says the bartender. "No offense, but you look kinda dead inside."

Eddie looks down, into the ripples on the surface of the shot. "Right."

"Cheer up, handsome," she says.

"Gimme a second to do these," Eddie says, "and I will."

"That’s the spirit," she says. As she starts attending to other customers, someone slides onto the stool next to him.

"Buy you a drink?" Buck says. He doesn’t look at Eddie.

"...sure," Eddie says.

Buck orders something, Eddie doesn’t bother listening to what. He watches Buck, instead, the blue of his eyes, the slight scruff of ginger-brown stubble on his face.

They don’t talk. The drinks come – more shots, and Eddie does his, plus the one the bartender gave him. He’s still screwing up his courage when Buck speaks.

"I’m Buck," he says, and finally looks at Eddie.

"Um. Eddie."

"What’s that short for?" Buck says, a little flat, but easing into a smile. Eddie’s the center of his attention, his narrow focus. It makes him feel like a kid with a big crush and butterflies in his stomach. Makes him act that way too, smile big and laugh all out of breath, like he’s doing now. Not that the tequila’s helping.

"Edmundo," he says, and Buck echoes Edmundo in a murmur. Eddie isn’t sure of exactly what kind of game they’re playing; but he’s not sure he cares, either.

"Well – Eddie." Buck’s smile lights Eddie’s heart, a match fizzing into flame. "Do you wanna dance?"

He does. They dance, sweaty-hot in the crowd. There’s barely any space for them to share and Eddie couldn’t care less. He fits a hand to the back of Buck’s neck and they move together, the way they’re meant to do. Close enough to share skin and lungs and a heart. Sweat drips down Eddie’s temples, the small of his back. It’s oppressive, the heat from dozens of pumping hearts, and Eddie wants it, loves it, could sink into it happily, forever.

There’s a lull of slower songs, but if anything the room gets hotter. Buck turns Eddie around with a strong, confident push of his hands, and they grind like that, Eddie’s back to Buck’s chest. Buck’s hands travel his front, unbutton his shirt a good three buttons. Eddie leans back into him; probably too much weight, but Buck takes it without complaint.

After a while, Buck’s lips at his ear say, "Wanna get some air?"

Eddie follows him; Buck forges a path, somehow, and then they’re outside, the alleyway.

A couple on their way in the other direction looks at them, hand in hand, red and sweaty, Eddie’s shirt unbuttoned. They exchange a glance, laugh.

"All yours," one of them tells Buck with a wink, tucking a pack of Marlboros into a shirt pocket.

"Thanks," Buck says, seeming not at all embarrassed. "Oh – hey, any chance I could bum a cigarette?"

You don’t smoke, Eddie doesn’t say. Buck takes the cigarette, handling it like he’s smoked before. Maybe he has, Eddie’s got no clue.

"Need a light?" the person asks, and pulls out a lighter when Buck nods.

Eddie takes it from them before Buck can. "Pretty girls don’t light their own cigarettes," he says to Buck.

He used that line on – fuck, what was her name? He can’t remember now. A girl he liked. It hadn’t worked; she was dating someone, not that his awkward, voice-cracking delivery of it had helped any.

Buck pulls on the cigarette with practiced ease, and it flares to life. Eddie hands the lighter back without looking away from him.

"Damn," someone says. The door creaks, opens, slams shut again. They’re alone.

"So. Eddie." Buck exhales smoke. "Your night getting any better?"

"What makes you think it was bad before?" Eddie says.

"Your eyes, when you came in. Looked like you’d been crying." Inhale, exhale. Eddie wants to be smoke, spilling from Buck’s lips. "What made you cry, beautiful?"

"You’re so cheesy," Eddie says with a wobbly smile.

Buck holds the cigarette out, and Eddie takes it.

He hasn’t smoked in, fuck, a decade or more. Apparently it’s muscle memory (or vodka-induced memory), the slow pull, hot smoke in his mouth, inhaling the thin stream down his throat.

Buck’s looking at him with a strange distance behind his eyes. Maybe wondering, as Eddie is, if either of them knew that they other had smoked.

They pass it between them until it’s gone and Buck is grinding sparks out of it on the asphalt. He leans back against the wall, watching Eddie. Unreadable.

"You never answered me." Buck crosses his arms, fidgeting. "That’s the beauty of talking to strangers, right? You can tell me anything."

Eddie wants the cigarette back. He wants something to do other than talk. "Gotta say, this wasn’t why I was hoping you had in mind for us out here."

"I have other plans too," Buck says. "But maybe you’ll like me kissing you better if you don’t have so much on your mind."

"Maybe you won’t want to kiss me once you hear what’s on my mind."

A silent, breath-filled moment. "Try me," Buck says

"Um." Eddie scuffs the ground. "I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong except...you know, everything."

Buck doesn’t say anything. He’s just a silhouette, really.

"Sometimes…" Eddie shakes his head. "Shouldn’t it be easier than this?"

He fidgets; wishes, again, for the cigarette.

"I – sometimes I think maybe he doesn’t even want me at all. Like, maybe I’m just – maybe he doesn’t want to hurt me."

Another breath between them.

"Maybe he should, though." Each breath comes harder, his throat aching. "I think I – I think I deserve it? But I don’t want – " That same sound rises in his throat, a desolate whimper, one step short of a sob. "I don’t want him to leave me – "

His back hits the dirty alley wall, and Buck is kissing him, and Eddie kisses back desperately. Buck’s usually tender with him, achingly gentle, but not now. He shoves at Eddie’s shoulders, pressing him into the wall, and Eddie gasps in pain as Buck snags his lower lip with his teeth, tugs at it roughly. Buck releases his lip and Eddie claws at his shirt, his hands shaking badly enough that he gets exactly nowhere. He grasps at the placket of the shirt and yanks it open, fabric and buttons giving way, and Buck’s hands are at his hips, squeezing hard, a luxurious crushing pressure, as Eddie finds his way under Buck’s shirt, wraps arms around his back.

"Buck," he whispers, and Buck pushes back from him all at once. When Eddie tries to follow, Buck keeps him pinned there, against the wall. "Buck?"

"I can’t do this," Buck says. He lets go of Eddie’s shirt, leaving it wrinkled after the mold of his hands.

Buck takes a step back, then another, and then Eddie’s alone in the alleyway, listening to the door slam.

Eddie almost pulls out his phone and calls Buck, just from pure force of habit. He wants to ask him what he should do. Buck, his best friend, who doesn’t judge him, who always supports him. But how can he, now? They aren’t just friends anymore. The things Eddie does, the way he is – that’s not theoretical for Buck now.

He’s too drunk to try not to cry when the sadness wells up in him. He just, he wants Buck, and he’s never felt further away from him. What if they’re not even friends anymore – what if they’re just this, now?

Eddie sits his ass back down on the ground and cries into his knees.

Light falls across him, and chattering voices abruptly stop.

"Shit," says a voice. "Are you okay?"

Eddie tries to catch his breath, wiping his face. "I’m fine," he says, but even drunk he can hear that he sounds pathetic.

"Okay, come on," says another voice. Hands help him to his feet, guiding him to sit on something. A crate, it feels like.

"I saw this guy earlier," says the first voice, quiet. "He came out here with some guy a while ago."

"Motherfucker. Hey, guy, did your boyfriend hurt you? We can call someone for you."

"I’ve got a baseball bat in my car," offers the first voice.

"No!" Eddie sits up at that. Two faces look back, young and sincere. "No, shit, it’s not like that. I just – I think he’s gonna break up with me." His mouth twists up again. Wobbly, he adds, "He’s my best friend. And. Uh. My fiancé."

They must both be about fifteen years younger than him, but they don’t react with anything like judgement. One of them, a tall, willowy girl with very long hair, says, "Been there."

The other, butch with a buzz cut and one glittering earring, smacks her on the shoulder. "Shut up about your stupid ex."

"You broke up?" Eddie says, on the verge of tears again.

"She started fucking my sister," says the long-haired girl dryly, and takes her girlfriend’s hand. "So there’s no reason to care if I bring her up, baby."

Eddie strangles a laugh. "That’s – okay. That puts things in perspective."

"Not that this hasn’t been great, random man," says the long-haired girl, in a businesslike way, "but we kind of came out here to make out. Are you done with your crisis?"

"Done as I’ll ever be," he says.

He waves goodbye to them on his way in – they’ve already forgotten he’s there. They’re in close with each other, saying hushed things and kissing softly, and there’s so much love in both of their eyes. It makes his heart ache.

He’s pretty much sober when he gets home. He stands by the curb for a long moment, looking at the house, at the warm light spilling through the windows. Then he goes inside.

He closes the door behind him softly, puts his keys down carefully enough that they don’t make a sound. He doesn’t even know why.

It strikes him, in the bathroom putting his clothes in the hamper, that he’s acting like he cheated, like he’s sneaking back inside after kissing someone other than Buck in an alleyway. Not dissimilar to how he felt coming home to Marisol after seeing Kim.

For the first time in, honestly, a while, Eddie really thinks about Shannon, invokes her in his mind.

It’s easy to call some moments to mind. The first time he saw her after moving to Los Angeles. Kissing her there, kissing her at his house, kissing her at the beach. Others...others, Eddie doesn’t want to think about.

Like the night she left. What had she been thinking, looking at him, asleep – looking at Christopher? Or – sitting across from him at a restaurant, responding to I wished for a sign with I think we should get a divorce.

Sure, Eddie had a problem with sticking around. But he changed that. By the time they reconnected, he was an active, present father. He put down roots, he dealt with his issues for Christopher’s sake. But still. Still, Shannon didn’t want to be with him. She wanted a divorce. Yeah. They hadn’t exactly...stopped fighting. Maybe she had a point; he hadn’t wanted to hear it. He never was too good at hearing her when it mattered most.

But Buck…that’s always been easier. Usually. Mostly.

Eddie stands under the spray of the shower washing sweat and spilled liquor and cigarette ash down the drain, and feels no cleaner when he’s done. Rinses off, gets out, wraps a towel around his waist without drying off. He hovers in the doorway, sucking in air. His bed isn’t empty.

"Buck."

Buck, reading on his phone, shoots him a narrow look and goes back to scrolling. Eddie stands and stares at him. Not gone. Still here.

He leaves the towel on the floor, tugs a pair of boxers on. Bold in his relief, he pulls Buck’s phone out of his hand and wraps around him, head on his chest.

"Jesus, you’re soaking wet," Buck says. With an edge, he says, "Have fun after I left?"

Eddie holds him tighter. "No," he says, a choked exhale.

Buck hums, but doesn’t say anything.

"Hey," Eddie whispers a little while later.

"Hm? Yeah?" Buck says sleepily.

"Buck, you know I – " Eddie stops talking.

There’s a little pause before Buck says, sounding tired, "Yeah. I know."

Silence catches the room. Eddie fumbles for Buck’s hand, and Buck tangles their fingers together tight enough to hurt.

"Should I not have asked?" Buck’s voice is a pained whisper. "You didn’t say yes – just to – just to not reject me?"

"I’m crazy about you," Eddie says. "That’s why I said yes."

Buck looks at the ceiling. He says, "We could get married."

"Isn’t that the idea?" Eddie says. Buck gives him a look, unamused. Not joking, then. "Buck, come on."

Buck releases Eddie’s hand, then. "Right."

"I don’t think – like, in my experience, shotgun weddings don’t always go that great," Eddie says, because he can see Buck’s eyes shuttering. He cracks a smile that Buck does not return.

"You keep saying you meant it," Buck says. Eddie’s fingers ache where Buck’s were squeezing them. "S-so getting married is fine, what, as an idea, but when it comes to the reality – "

"You’re acting crazy," Eddie says, sitting up. "You’re mad because I won’t hop in the car for Vegas right this second? You’re being ridiculous."

"Jesus." Buck gets up and leaves the room, just like that, and Eddie clenches brittle teeth together, gets up, and follows him.

"Seriously?" Eddie says, but really he half-yells it, and Buck stops in his tracks. "That’s it? Marry you right this second or you’re done?"

"Not right this second, don’t act like I’m – I’m talking next week, next month, hell, six months from now, but not some fantasy someday – where I – I’m not even allowed to have a fucking opinion about anything in your life – "

Eddie rears back his head, looking at Buck. "Is that why you proposed? To have a stake in my decisions?"

"No!" Buck yells. "Yes! Fuck, I don’t know! To be a fucking factor in your decisions! So I don’t wake up one day to find you halfway out the door to Texas again, and I’m not allowed to say anything about it or ask you to come home, because it’s not my fucking place to have an opinion!"

"It’s not," Eddie growls. "You don’t get to decide things for me, Buck."

"I don’t want to decide!" Buck’s gesturing furiously as he talks. Eddie barks a cold laugh. "Okay. I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have talked to your mom, but it’s not – I – I want you to talk to me, Eddie, I want to be included, I want you to tell me what’s going on with you when you’re upset – "

"No, that’s not an excuse. You fucked up? It wasn’t a mistake, it was a choice." The hotter Buck gets, the colder Eddie feels. Cold steel in his words. "You put your feelings above me, you put them above Chris, you – and why? Because you didn’t want me to move? Why couldn’t you just ask me what was going on?"

"Way I remember it," Buck says, "I did ask. You wouldn’t tell me."

Eddie’s clenching his jaw so tight his muscles ache, and he takes five seconds of stony silence to make sure his voice will be steady as a rock when he speaks.

"So I get the Taylor Kelly special," Eddie says. For all he was furious a moment ago, now he’s just exhausted. An ache in his throat. "We already pretty much live together, so I guess marriage was just the next step."

"That is not – that isn’t what this is," Buck says.

Eddie’s always been able to read Buck. When he’s lying, even when he doesn’t know he’s lying. Right now, Eddie just can’t fucking tell.

"Here I thought you asked because you loved me."

"I do, Eddie, stop it."

Eddie’s crying, he finds. Buck’s there, suddenly, wiping his tears, and Eddie lets him. He can feel his bottom lip trembling, and he can’t stop it. He’s too tired, he’s wrung out, he’s too fucking hot. He stands there and lets Buck wipe his tears with calloused thumbs, and the tears that follow after even as Eddie tries to make them stop.

"Maybe you’re right," Buck says roughly. "Maybe this is all just – too much. Too fast." His lips quiver, slant down.

"No. No." Eddie sniffs grotesquely. He can hear that note in Buck’s voice, knows what it means.

Anger is gone, melted like haze in the sunlight. There’s nothing inside him; no words, no feeling, not even that raw desire that’s been possessing him every waking moment since he first kissed Buck.

"Eddie," Buck whispers.

He holds Eddie by the shoulders, gently, and catches his eye, and Eddie barely, barely keeps from just throwing himself into Buck’s arms at the worn, hurt look in his eyes.

"I just think we need some time," Buck says.

Eddie flinches. Buck doesn’t let him get away. Eddie nods. What else can he do?

"I can, uh." Eddie lets a tiny sound out of his throat, and needs a few seconds to choke it to death before he can go on. "I can go stay with someone. Or at a hotel, whatever."

"Eddie, no." Buck touches his arm, and hope almost unfurls its wings before Buck says, "I’ll go stay with Maddie and Chim, it’s fine."

Eddie’s shaking his head before he knows it. "No. I’ll…I’ll go. I’ll. Yeah."

Buck follows him back to the bedroom. He finds his shirt on the floor and tugs it on. Doesn’t look at Buck. He turns for the door, turns back to go to the closet and go through the dirty business of finding a duffle bag to shove haphazardly full of clothes. He takes his charger, his earbuds, his phone off the nightstand.

"Um." Eddie swallows hard. He’s about to absolutely shatter, he needs to get out of this room. "I guess I’ll...see you."

Buck is red-eyed, lips quivering, and Eddie can’t look at him for more than a second. He’s a coward, he doesn’t care, he leaves the room. He goes to the bathroom for his toothbrush, snags his leftover anxiety meds from the cabinet, a razor, shaving cream, a bar of soap, shampoo. So much, and so little. All these little pieces that don’t at all add up to a life with Buck.

His body operates mechanically. He shoves his feet into his slides and scans the house; good enough. Good enough for now. Hopefully he doesn’t have to come back for anything tonight, because that’s gonna break him utterly.

"Eddie."

Eddie turns, and Buck’s there, watching him.

"I’m about to head out, sorry," Eddie says. His voice is underwater, a million miles away. "I promise I’m not trying to – to make this harder."

Buck touches his arm, and he just crumbles. He turns towards Buck, even though he knows he shouldn’t, and Buck hugs him so hard Eddie’s ribs hurt.

"I," Eddie says, and doesn’t say any more, because he’s being kissed. He grabs at Buck’s shoulders roughly, clawing him closer, closer, it’s not enough. Kisses back like his life depends on it.

"It’s three AM, for Christ’s sake," Buck says, hugging him again. "Stay until the morning. Just – just come back to bed until the morning."

Eddie shakes his head mutely, and Buck holds him tighter, and eventually releases him. He kisses Eddie again, sweet and soft, and steps back.

Eddie looks at Buck for a second, and then he looks at the floor instead. "Bye," he says softly.

"Bye, Eddie," Buck says, half-choked.

Eddie can’t go stay with Hen, or with Chimney; he’d have to explain himself, and he can’t deal with that right now. Can’t go sleep at the firehouse without everyone finding out. Can’t afford a hotel.

He ends up at Bobby’s without much memory of the drive. Briefly, he contemplates going deeper into credit card debt, and then pulls out his phone.

I know it’s late, but any chance I can come crash at yours tonight?

The response comes within a minute. Come right over.

"Sorry for," Eddie says, waving his hand at himself.

"It’s fine," Bobby says. "Though I can’t say I’m not a little worried about you. Anything going on that you want to share?"

"I can’t," Eddie says. "I can’t tell you, Bobby. Look – I shouldn’t even be here – I should, whatever, get a hotel." He’s so fucking tired. He presses his palms against his eyes. "A hotel with a bar."

"Absolutely not," Bobby says. "I am fine, Eddie, for one thing. For another, Athena has the night shift tonight, so if you need to frame this as you looking after me, then feel free. And – "

Bobby’s eyes have had a melancholy to them as long as Eddie’s known him; were they always like that? Or did that come after – after he lost everything? Eddie can’t imagine them looking any different.

"I know not everyone has my relationship to alcohol. But looking to get wasted because your life isn’t going well is a great way to end up there."

"No," Eddie says, dropping his hands. "Seriously, it’s not like that. I didn’t mean to worry you."

Bobby’s still looking at him. Eddie will never blow up at Bobby again, not after that one time, but for a split second he wants to. Wants to tell him it’s none of his fucking business, actually, and go somewhere to drink until he can’t think about Buck anymore. And in that moment, Eddie comes to know that if he goes to a bar tonight, he’ll probably drink himself somewhere in the neighborhood of needing his stomach pumped.

"Maybe I’m being a mother hen," Bobby says, and he smiles slightly but his eyes stay solemn. "I’ve seen that look before, and I’ve seen it on my own face. Whatever you’re thinking, Eddie, it’s not gonna help."

Eddie looks at the floor, and he jerks a nod.

He doesn’t let Bobby make up a bed for him. He makes Bobby show him where the sheets are, and then Bobby directs him to May’s room.

"You’ve still got rooms for May and Harry?" Eddie says.

"For my stepdaughter and underage stepson?" Bobby says. "Why wouldn’t I?"

He leaves Eddie alone quickly. He looks tired, for all he claims to be fine; more to the point, he can probably tell that Eddie is.

Eddie lies on his back, his eyes moving around the room. Trophies, books, makeup – surfaces cluttered like May was just there. She’s got Polaroids of herself with friends up on the walls by her bed. What looks like a tiny battery pack dangles on a wire by Eddie’s head, and he switches it on.

String lights turn on. They’re yellow, balled up and suspended on a little net like a makeshift canopy over the bed. Like a cloud of stars, tamed and brought to earth. He sleeps.

Eddie should ask Bobby if he can stay longer, or bite the bullet and go stay with Hen. But he goes home instead.

When he opens the door he wakes Buck up, stretched out on the couch. That’s the first thing he registers: Buck’s eyes blinking open and focusing right on him. The second thing he notices is that it’s cool inside. The air conditioning is running again.

"Eddie," Buck says. His hair’s flat on one side, his body moving stiffly as he sits up.

"Hey," Eddie says. He moves slowly into the room. "You sleep on the couch?"

Buck shrugs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "HVAC guy came a couple hours ago," he says after a moment.

"Right," Eddie says. "I guess he was able to get it working."

"Nah, this is just from how cool I am," Buck says, and winces.

Eddie says, and even he can hear how painfully fond he sounds, "That was so bad." He clears his throat. "I guess...we should talk."

He sits at the other end of the couch. His ass slides a little bit on the leather. Honestly, Eddie hates Buck’s couch. Who wants to be on a slip’n’slide every time they sit down? Couches should be a nice soft texture. Like velvet, just as an example.

"Did I mess stuff up for you? With– with your parents?" Buck says haltingly. "With Chris?"

He looks legitimately tormented. Eddie hates himself for a hot violent moment.

"No. It’s fine," Eddie says. "If they could do something, they’d be doing it."

"’kay," Buck says. "Uh. Next question." Eddie mimes checking something off on an invisible clipboard, and Buck huffs a laugh. Painfully gently, he says, "I feel like you – you don’t really want to get married. Yeah?"

"No!" Eddie says, louder than he means to. "That’s not the problem. It’s just, I don’t know. Too soon, I guess."

Buck laughs for real. "I guess, uh, friends to fiancés in under a day could be considered a little fast."

"I – I guess that – we’re kind of speedrunning this." Eddie catches a confused look and says, "It’s like, a video game thing. You try to play it really fast."

"Dude, I know," Buck says. "I’m just always surprised when you learn a new word."

Eddie makes a face at him. "Fuck off."

Buck sits a bit closer to him, close enough to grab his hand and intertwine their fingers. His fingers are warm and a little sweaty. Eddie presses his palm against Buck’s.

"You don’t want to break up," Buck says.

"I really don’t."

Buck ducks a smile downwards. Then he focuses on Eddie again, painfully earnest. "I’m sorry about what I said. About Shannon. I really, I didn’t mean it – I-I was just so mad at you."

"I know," Eddie says. "I know. I baited you into it, I wanted a fight."

"I figured that out," Buck says, "once the A/C was working and I could think again." He squeezes Eddie’s hand.

"I’m sorry too," Eddie concedes. "It’s just, it’s not always about you. I’m not trying to be a dick, I’m just saying."

Buck gives him an incredulous look. "Okay, Eddie, but sometimes it is about me. I’m – I’m not trying to excuse – but if we’re gonna be together – "

He breaks off mid-sentence.

"I just want – Eddie," Buck says with a watery laugh. "You left. You left, and it was like losing half of myself. More than half. And you were down there without me, and I couldn’t be there, and I couldn’t ask you to come home – b-because that’s not what friends do. I know I shouldn’t have talked to your mom behind your back, I just wanted – and you weren’t talking to me, and I just – "

"You could’ve asked," Eddie says.

Buck raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Eddie says, before he knows he’s even thinking it, "You never asked what it was like." Then it’s like the floodgates open, and he can’t stop talking. "You never asked me what it was like living in a house that actively hated me, you never asked if I was okay, you never asked what it was like – what it was like when I found out Bobby – "

"That’s not fair," Buck says, shaking his head.

Eddie moves a little closer, enough so that he can pull their joined hands to rest on his leg. "I know," he says eventually. "Still kinda mad at you about it, though." He clears his throat. "And. Sorry I said you were giving me the Taylor Kelly special. I don’t really think that."

Buck laughs a little at him, fondly. "It’s okay." The fingers of his free hand are beating a quiet, restless rhythm against the couch.

Eddie shakes his head. "Go ahead and ask," he says, with affection.

"What the hell is happening with your mom right now?" Buck says immediately. "What did she say to you?"

Eddie hums, looks away from Buck and up, and chokes out, "She got my records, my medical records." The words feel poisonous in his mouth; it goes against every instinct he has to let them out. "I don’t know how, but she managed to get them. My psych records."

"What?" Buck says. His eyes blaze blue fire.

"And she’s just waiting for me to have a mental breakdown, basically. They both think I’m fucking incompetent, they already thought that, and then Kim just confirmed everything to them, and now this – she thinks it’s not a good environment for Chris, and I can’t, Buck, I can’t lose him. Not again, I can’t – I don’t know what I’d – "

Buck turns and pulls Eddie towards him so that Eddie can hyperventilate against his chest, and he rubs Eddie’s back, pets his hair, until he can breathe again.

Eddie sits back up eventually, catches Buck wiping a tear off his face.

"I made it worse," Buck says hoarsely. "She said you were avoiding her – and then I – " He sniffs. "I just – I didn’t want you to leave again. I thought if I fixed it…"

"I know, but Buck, you can’t fix it. This is what my parents are like."

"I…" Still looking at the floor. "I don’t want you to go away again."

"I won’t."

"I want you to stay."

Eddie’s voice is breaking apart. "I’ll stay."

Eddie takes Buck’s hand this time, takes it in both of his and presses it to his mouth.

"And you’ll – you’ll talk to me?"

"It’s not that easy," Eddie says.

"I know it’s not." Buck’s voice is soft, like night falling. "I – I know. But I’ve seen you hide parts of yourself with everyone you’ve dated. Marisol. Ana."

"Shannon," Eddie says, so Buck doesn’t, and Buck nods slowly.

"And I don’t want this to end like those. So you gotta find a way."

Eddie nods his head. Quietly, he says, "You really can’t fix this. My parents." Buck shifts a little, and Eddie holds his hand tighter. "But it means a lot that you want to. Kinda makes me want to marry you right now, even though I know there are a hundred reasons why we can’t yet."

Buck looks down at his own knees, and Eddie pulls him closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Buck’s fingers grab onto him and hold, and Eddie kisses the careless sprawl of his birthmark for good measure.

Buck exhales and says, "Right, uh, what are those hundred reasons? It stopped seeming crazy again."

"Other than the fact that we’ve been together for less than a week, or my temper, or you pulling that shit with my parents?" Eddie says dryly. Buck flicks his temple gently. "Christopher. I can’t spring something like this on him. Especially not after Kim."

"Oh God." Buck’s eyes are wide. "Eddie – Eddie, I – I didn’t even think – "

"No, me either." Eddie rubs at his eyes with a growl. "I got so caught up in...you know."

"The sex?" Buck says.

"No," Eddie says, and Buck laughs at him. "Okay, maybe that was part of it. I got caught up in you, let’s just leave it at that."

Buck wraps an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie goes warm and melty, leaning into his side.

Eddie adds, "And, you know, it’s not your responsibility to keep Chris in mind. I’m the one who fucked up."

"Except you didn’t, because you’re a great dad, even if you got distracted by wanting to jump my bones," Buck says.

"Anyway," Eddie says. "I need to talk to him about us dating, in person. I don’t know, I need to think about how to do it so it’s not everything going completely crazy all at once for him."

Buck sighs, a long, deep sigh, and nods. "I guess it’s a good thing I was too mad at you to get an engagement ring," he says with a weak laugh.

Eddie jerks his head up to look at Buck. "You were gonna get me a ring?"

"Course I was, Eddie," Buck says. "I – I still am. Just, uh. Not yet."

Eddie privately vows to get Buck a ring as soon as possible. It can stay hidden until the right time, but he wants to be ready. He sneaks a look at his own left hand, picturing a ring there.

"Hey Buck?" he says.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for – I know even after a million hours of therapy I’m still terrible at all this. So thanks."

"You’re welcome," Buck says. A twinkle develops, and he says with intense earnestness, imitating the infamous cadence of one of the department therapists, "And I wanna say thank you, for sharing with me."

"Stop that," Eddie says, and Buck laughs at him.

"Thank you for sharing your truth with me," Buck says, infusing sincerity into every iota of his voice and manner.

Eddie lunges at him, a hand over his mouth. "Very mature, asshole," he says, and Buck obviously licks his hand, and Eddie obviously wipes his hand on Buck’s forehead, and then they’re shoving at each other and wrestling their way down to the couch.

Buck lands on his back with a huff and Eddie braces on his shoulders, and...it’s not closer than they’ve been, not at all. They’ve been sleeping in each other’s arms, and this isn’t closer than that – but. It’s not a hundred degrees, and the aircon works, and they haven’t just been fighting, and the sun is up. And Eddie leans in a few inches before his brain catches up and he stops. Because – because it feels insane, and possibly not allowed, and just frankly bizarre, to close the gap between him and Buck and kiss him on the mouth. Even though they’ve done it before. Even though he’s seen Buck when he comes. And so Eddie freezes, and Buck looks up at him with wide eyes, and Eddie bites his bottom lip and starts to move again. Up until he’s so close that his eyes fall shut, he can see every inch of Buck’s face clearly, the fear, the wonder in his eyes. He can hear the little huff of Buck’s breath when Eddie kisses him; the pounding of their hearts is practically audible.

So: Eddie kisses Buck, and Buck winds arms around Eddie’s neck and kisses back, and then Eddie pulls back before it becomes a makeout.

Eddie’s shaking, in some fundamental bone-deep way that might not even be palpable but probably is, to Buck. He fidgets fingers over Buck’s chest, smoothing his shirt over his collarbone, and Buck looks up at him with liquid eyes until Eddie tips forward to rest his forehead to Buck’s sternum.

"Would you think I was crazy if I wanted to go back to bed?" Buck says.

"No, I’m so tired," Eddie says gratefully.

"Too tired to fuck?" Buck says a few minutes later, once they’re in bed, without looking up from his phone.

"A little," Eddie says, easing into Buck’s space. He gets Buck’s arm around him and a prime view of the TikToks that he’s swiping through. Eddie settles into his hold with a happy hum.

Buck hearts a video of rescue dogs being kissed on the head. "Fine, fine, but it’s your fault if I go into withdrawal."

"You’ll live," Eddie drawls. He’s drowsy, already. It’s been a long...part of a day. A long few days. He’s tired. So tired.

Eddie opens his eyes, and Buck’s on his side staring at him with wide seaglass eyes.

"The fuck, dude," Eddie says drowsily. "You watching me sleep?"

Buck blinks at him without so much as a hint of embarrassment. "You’re so cute when you’re asleep. Even when you’re drooling all over yourself."

Eddie swipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and comes up with a truly gross amount of drool. "Nooo," he whines softly.

"You’re even cuter when you’re bitching and moaning," Buck says, and adds, "luckily."

Eddie hauls his rubbery, not-quite-awake body up and stomps off to the bathroom.

When he comes back, Buck’s on his phone, probably letting TikTok gather all his data as usual. Eddie snatches the phone out of his hand and tosses it to the foot of the bed. Then he rolls over, his back to Buck’s chest, and pulls Buck’s arm over him.

Buck sighs and snuggles closer, and his dick presses against Eddie, hard and getting harder.

"Dude," Eddie says, scooting away, and then freezes.

"Did you just," Buck says, and starts cracking up.

Eddie flips over and watches Buck laugh at him. "Shut up," he says, when Buck is done. "I forgot, okay? I spent most of my life following the commandment thou shalt not touch your bro’s morning wood."

"Oh wow," Buck says. "Well, me too, but – not to presume, but I don’t think we’re just bros anymore."

"It’s habit. We’ve been together for like a fucking day."

"And – you forgot? You forgot we’re together? While I was spooning you?"

"Just shut up," Eddie says, smiling. "I’m barely awake."

"Whatever you say," Buck says with unbearable smugness and a flutter of his eyelashes. He’s all butter-soft eyes and gingery scruff, looking at Eddie in a way that’s making his knees feel weak even lying down. He definitely knows what he’s doing, too.

"You’re so," Eddie says, a sighed rush, and falls across the gap between them to kiss Buck. He hums against Buck’s lips when Buck catches him by the waist, and shivers a gasp when Buck’s fingers slip under the waistband of his sleep shorts.

"Can – "

"Yeah."

And Eddie makes a sound as Buck’s hand finds his cock immediately, a kind of moan-grunt, deeply embarrassing. He fumbles his hands under the blanket to cup Buck’s cock so they can hopefully move right past that, and Buck rumbles a moan in return (not embarrassing, very hot, so unfair).

It’s absurd, how good it feels, just a handjob, literally nothing Eddie can’t just do himself. But it’s making it hard to think. It must be psychological, or something, how good it feels; the way it’s making Eddie’s thighs shake minutely, the way sensitivity is thrilling over his skin. It takes him three clumsy tries to get his hand in Buck’s boxer briefs, and when he does he almost freezes, realizing for the first time that they’re staring right at each other. In broad daylight, sober, at a temperature where Eddie’s brain can work, except it kind of feels like it isn’t working.

He strokes Buck awkwardly. He’s captivated for a moment by the movement under the blanket, his hand on Buck and Buck’s hand on him. Anyone who walked in would know right away that they’re lying here jacking each other off, and nervous arousal spills in his lower belly at the thought. He doesn’t even want anyone to see, but the thought of how undeniable it is – it does something. Probably the sight of Buck’s face would be enough, the way his eyes are closed, the way he’s breathing hard – and probably the sight of Eddie’s face would be enough, too. Eddie’s not sure he even wants to know what he looks like to Buck.

"You sound so fucking – so fucking hot," Buck says, gravel in his voice. That’s how Eddie realizes he’s moaning softly, and he can’t even stop when he realizes.

"Making me feel so good," Eddie murmurs. Buck’s burning hot in his hand, and when Eddie slides his thumb over the tip of Buck’s cock he can feel that he’s slick and wet and messy.

"Yeah?"

Eddie kisses Buck as his answer. He chokes ragged breath, hot and fast, against Buck’s lips when Buck strokes him a little faster.

"It’s good?" Buck murmurs.

Eddie doesn’t answer. He’s trying to focus, giving Buck firm, even strokes, though his own blood is spiking, his toes curling. He goes a little harder, even, and Buck heaves a whining breath.

"Yeah, you like that?" Eddie whispers, and Buck huffs, "Don’t let it go to your – fuck – your – " and he sounds so aroused, so close, that Eddie’s overcome and he spits a moan, toes curling hard, and he comes throbbing in Buck’s hand. Makes his own hand keep moving.

"Oh my God, Eddie," Buck says, throaty.

"That’s it," Eddie says, loosely, "come on, baby, I wanna see you come."

Buck whispers his name when he comes, and Eddie surges forward for a panting kiss.

"You’re beautiful," Eddie whispers against his lips, and Buck says, "I love you."

Eddie jerks back, and that of all things is making his face heat up, and Buck looks at him with a half-shrug.

"I – love you too," Eddie says, tripping over his words.

Buck smiles huge and smushes his face into the pillow. "You’re cute when you’re all shy," he says when he emerges.

Eddie rolls his eyes and says, "I guess you wanna get up and do shit, huh."

"No, no, no," Buck says, and seizes Eddie and wraps him back up, spooning him again. "I take it back, you’re – rugged."

After a moment, Eddie says, "I’ve been thinking."

"Mmm," Buck says drowsily. "Trying something new?"

"You’re hilarious," Eddie says. "I was thinking about how to tell Chris." He feels Buck waking up more, the slight tension in him. "Maybe you could. Help me figure out how."

"I’d really like that," Buck says, holding Eddie closer.

"Yeah?" Eddie says. Buck kisses the side of his head.

"Yeah," Buck says.

When Eddie goes back to sleep, he has a dream. In the dream he’s under the sun, toes in the sand. He doesn’t know where he is; it doesn’t matter. It’s more important to look at Buck, in a dark, close-fitting suit, his shirt open at the throat.

Eddie, Buck whispers, and Eddie whispers back, Yeah.

Do I look okay? Buck whispers.

Yeah, Eddie whispers. Pretty okay.

All I heard was pretty.

Ha ha ha ha ha.

Buck holds Eddie’s hands. Eddie looks down at them; they each have a little line of untanned skin on their left ring finger.

It looks so naked without it, Eddie says.

Waves are crashing, seagulls calling, Buck is smiling at him.

You’ll have a new one soon. And then you’ll be naked except for it.

You’re so dumb. I love you.

I love you. We should get back there, it’s almost time. Buck is silent for a breath, and then whispers, It’s not too late to back out. If you wanted to.

I know, Eddie says. It’s making him smile, the utter sincerity Buck is broadcasting in waves.

I promise I won’t be mad, just – just tell me now if you don’t wanna go through with it.

Trying to get rid of me? Eddie asks. He pulls Buck into his arms, and feels Buck relax into him. You should know by now that it won’t be that easy.

Eddie wakes up between breaths. He’s alone in bed, but there’s music playing somewhere in the house.

He finds Buck in the kitchen, dancing abysmally in place by the stove. Eddie hugs him from behind, because he can.

"Hey," he says.

"Hi!" Buck says. "Hungry?" He’s scrambling an absurd amount of eggs.

"Yeah." Eddie hides his face in Buck’s neck, breathing in his smell, just a little. A normal amount. "I’ll set the table."

"Knew I kept you around for something," Buck says. Eddie can hear the wink in his voice.

He sets the table. His place, and Buck’s. Eddie looks at them; can’t stop looking.

"I had a dream," Eddie says. The last scraps of it are fading from his mind; he can only remember bright sun and the sound of waves. "Shit, I can’t remember now."

"It’ll come back to you," Buck says.

He’s smiling at Eddie, eyes warm despite everything that’s happened in the past few days. Through every day, every conversation, every argument – it’s never changed how Buck looks at him.

Eddie smiles back. "Yeah," he says, "I think it will."