Work Text:
Here’s how it starts:
Buck goes over to Eddie’s after shift, because it’s been a hard one, and usually they can go home to Christopher and that settles their torn and frayed nerves. Except Chris is 800 miles away in El Paso, so Buck and Eddie arrive at an empty house with all their misery sitting between them.
Buck’s always found the Diaz home to be some sort of liminal space. It’s real, and he loves it, but the Buck that exists in the Diaz home doesn’t exist anywhere else. It’s someone only Eddie and Chris get to see. It’s the Buck that can be convinced into anything if it’d make one of them smile, one of them feel better. It’s not like he would refuse outside of the house but Buck’s himself there in a way he can’t be anywhere else.
And somehow, in the misery of getting home and washing off the sweat and grime of their shift, Buck thought, huh, what if I just fucked it out of him?
It had made him feel better, when he was with Abby and Taylor. Even with Ali and Natalia, who never really got his job, they were more than willing to fall into bed with him. It was partially the sex. It was partially being so close to someone.
Buck has Tommy, when he needs that. And Eddie… Now, Eddie has no one.
Once he starts thinking about it, he can’t stop. He thinks about walking up to Eddie, a hand on his hip, chest-to-back, and asking if he wants to. He thinks about Eddie agreeing, because he would, of course. Buck thinks about Eddie underneath him, hot skin and heavy eyes. He thinks about kissing Eddie. He thinks he wants to.
The thought stays with him as he finishes with his shower, changing into his clothes that have migrated into Eddie’s drawers over the years. Buck gets started on a late lunch while Eddie stays locked in his bathroom. It stays with him after that eat, settling down on the couch to pass time until it’s a normal time to fall asleep.
There’s been a lot of that, recently. Buck’s never wished for a summer to pass so quickly since he was in high school, desperate for the days to slip by until he didn’t have to be in that house anymore. He hated school, but he hated his mausoleum of a house even more. Now, he’s waiting for the summer to pass so Chris comes home. Not that it’s a given but – Buck assumes. Chris hasn’t said much, and Buck hasn’t pressed, but there hasn’t been any talk of registering him for school down in El Paso, and Eddie’s already put in the deposit for the fall semester. He’s coming home.
But bringing up Chris is like dropping a nuclear bomb, these days. It’s the opposite effect Buck wants to achieve. He wants to make Eddie feel better. And short of an illegal fighting ring, Buck only has so many options at hand.
And he’s still thinking about it. Sitting on Eddie’s couch, beers on the coffee table, the fucking Olympics on the TV – neither of them are watching the skateboarding playback. Eddie’s mind is a million miles away, and Buck is taken with the idea of having sex with his best friend.
The issue is easing Eddie into it, he knows. Eddie’s like a spooked horse: one sudden movement and he’s gone. But Buck’s got years of experience on handling Eddie’s moods. He starts slow: shifting closer on the couch like he’s in high school with his first girlfriend. It’s not out of the usual for the two of them. They live in each other’s pockets, Hen said once. Eddie barely pays him a second glance.
Eventually, they’re thigh-to-thigh, shoulder-to-shoulder. Buck starts the second part of this half-formed plan: getting Eddie to agree. Two weeks ago, Eddie went through his sexuality crisis and came out the other side not too worse for wear. Hen offered to take him out, meet some guys, but Eddie refused. He put himself in self-exile, save for Buck. He’s doubled down on not dating again, maybe for the rest of Chris’ teen years, so he said.
If Buck says it out loud, Eddie will immediately shut it down. He’s good at that, at dismissing anything that will help him. That’s why Buck’s always gone for subterfuge when it counts. On the rare occasion he can get Eddie to crack himself open – which are actually becoming more common, these days – it’s because Buck caught him by surprise.
It’s got a success rate of somewhere in the 70s, Buck thinks. And, well, it’s easier than having to explain it, really. Buck doesn’t think he even has the words for it. So he just does it.
Here’s how it goes:
Buck and Eddie are sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, after one of their worst shifts of the summer, and Buck decides to kiss his best friend. He leans over and does it, and surprise – Eddie doesn’t freeze up. He kisses back, like Buck’s mouth on his is a shock to his system. Eddie’s hand drifts up to his other shoulder, gripping on tight, and the worry in Buck settles.
He doesn’t know how long they’re kissing, but Eddie never shoves him away. Buck even moves, straddling Eddie’s lap, tucking his long legs against his thighs and letting himself touch. Buck’s brain conjures a lot of thoughts, ones he quickly shoves away. He doesn’t want to think about Tommy, about sitting on Tommy’s lap, about Tommy’s tongue down his throat. All Buck cares about is Eddie, and the small part of his brain not focused on kissing Eddie is trying to figure out how to move them to the bedroom.
But is then Eddie voices the question Buck hopes he wouldn’t: “What about Tommy?”
He’s not panicked, like he’s worried. Eddie says it like – what should we do if he asks? Buck realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t care. He’ll deal with it later, if it comes up. And really, Tommy isn’t even registering on Buck’s list of things to care about. He’s so far down the list he might as well not even be on it.
“It’s fine,” Buck says. “Just – No marks, okay?”
Eddie nods. He smooths his hand up Buck’s chest. It feels like fire, like a brand. Buck wants to let Eddie mark him, is hit with the idea of Eddie marking him like he fucking owns him, his name written on Buck’s skin. The desire eats at him – but Buck isn’t Eddie’s. He isn’t, so he can’t.
“I can work with that,” Eddie says.
Buck has a second to see the smirk on his face before Eddie is surging forward to kiss him. It’s rough – Eddie is biting his lip, licking into his mouth, his hands firm on Buck’s hips and pressing their hardening cocks together. Buck moans into the kiss, rolls his hips into Eddie’s, feels himself coming undone already.
It hasn’t felt like this before. Not with Tommy. Not with anyone. Eddie’s engulfing him, or maybe Buck’s shrinking, letting himself get knocked back with the wave. He gets a hand on Eddie’s waistband, fingers fumbling as he undoes the belt and zipper. It’s uncoordinated, hands knocking together, Eddie distracting him with his heavy kisses. The bedroom feels a hundred miles away right now, and all Buck wants is Eddie’s dick in his mouth right now. Buck manages to shove Eddie’s jeans and boxers down just enough, and takes his heavy cock in hand.
“Jesus, fuck, Eddie groans, pulling back from Buck’s mouth. When he tilts his head back with the words, exposing the column of his throat – Buck can’t help himself. Eddie doesn’t have to hide this, not the way Buck does. He gets his mouth on Eddie’s pulse point, uses his teeth to leave a mark as his hand works Eddie’s cock. He’d be happy with just this, but Buck glances between their bodies and his mouth waters at the sight of Eddie’s cock.
He slips back, sinking to his knees between Eddie’s splayed legs, bracketed in by thick thighs. Eddie’s slouched back against the couch, his eyes lidded as he stares at Buck. He looks well-fucked already, with his mouth kiss-red and a bruise on his neck. Buck knows he doesn’t look much better. He keeps eye contact with Eddie as he leans forward and licks a stripe up the underside of Eddie’s cock.
Distantly, Buck thanks Tommy for being more than amenable to Buck’s first few fumbling blowjobs. He’s learned the technique in the past few months, learned that he fucking loves the feeling of a cock in his mouth, shutting him up. He knows what Tommy likes, but Buck’s more than willing to overwrite that with what Eddie likes. Buck wants to know what makes Eddie tick, what’ll have him coming down Buck’s throat. He wants to know everything.
Eddie’s already breathing heavy, and Buck hasn’t even gotten his mouth on that dick. Poor guy, must be terribly pent up. Buck likes it, though, likes knowing Eddie is on the edge like this all because of him. He was right – Eddie does need this.
Buck just hadn’t considered how much he needed this too.
He thinks about teasing Eddie a little more, playing with his balls, breathing on the head of his cock and making him wait, but Buck doesn’t want to. He’s out of patience. He only waits a moment before leaning up and taking a good third of Eddie’s dick in his mouth. And just the weight, the taste, makes Buck moan. He whines, his mouth busy, fisting his hands into the rumpled waistband that has fallen to Eddie’s thighs.
“Christ, Buck,” Eddie says. One hand settles in his hair. Buck doesn’t know where the other one is. “God, you feel so good.”
A thrill licks its way up his spine at the compliment. Eddie’s hand is rough in his hair, nails scraping his scalp, but it’s a pleasant sort of feeling. Buck looks up, catching Eddie’s blissed expression as he tries to swallow more of him down.
The thing is – Eddie is big. Buck needs to get used to it, needs to figure out how to use his hand and his mouth. He doesn’t have much of a gag reflex, but it takes some time to work his way up to it. It’d be easier if Eddie was standing, if Eddie would hold him in place and fuck his face. Buck likes that. But he wants to do the work – he wants to make Eddie feel good, wants to take his mind away from every terrible thing that’s happened that day and this summer.
Buck redoubles his efforts. He works more and more of Eddie’s cock into his mouth until it’s bumping his throat, until he’s gagging on it, and all the while Eddie is letting out these delicious noises. Moans and curses, bitten-off you’re doing so good, and like that, like that, and throwing his head back against the cushions. His hand is steady in Buck’s hair, though, and Buck knows he’s about to come because of way Eddie’s grip tightens and sparks fly behind his eyes.
“I’m about to come,” Eddie warns, his voice thick, the most intelligible words he’s said for the past five minutes. “Buck, are you –”
Whatever he’s about to say cuts off with a groan, as Buck sucks on just the head of his cock, tongue teasing the glans, and then Eddie is coming. Buck pops off with a slick noise, and the first rope of cum hits him on the cheek. Buck works Eddie through his orgasm with his hand, pulled back with his mouth open, as Eddie’s cum splatters across his face.
He said no marks, and had meant it. Buck can’t take anything home. But he can have this. He can let himself have this.
Eddie has to take a moment to catch his breath once he finishes, and Buck’s heart is racing a hundred miles an hour. He rests his head against Eddie’s thigh, smearing cum against his skin, but he can’t bring himself to care. Buck is giddy. With the fact that he just sucked Eddie’s cock, with the fact that he’s cheating on Tommy, with the fact he has his best friend’s cum on his face and he kind of never wants to wash it off.
“Buck,” Eddie says finally, and then nothing else. He said it like a command, so Buck obeys. He climbs up Eddie’s body, his own cock still hard and straining against his jeans. And Eddie watches him, a half-smile on his face, and when Buck gets close enough, Eddie kisses him. “You’re good at that, huh?” Eddie mutters between kisses. He uses two of his fingers to swipe his own cum off Buck’s face and then shoves them in Buck’s mouth. He sucks on them immediately, cheeks hollowing out, swirling his tongue around Eddie’s finger.
He moans in response. He must be good at it. He likes it, and Buck’s known that enthusiasm makes up for inexperience in a lot of categories. Eddie’s eyes darken, pupils blowing out. It’s a decidedly sexy look, and all of Buck’s body tightens with anticipation.
“What do you want?” Eddie asks. He keeps his fingers in Buck’s mouth, his thumb under his chin, keeping him from responding. Buck doesn’t want to interrupt. He wants to hear Eddie’s voice like this – rough, lower-pitched, thoughtful and hungry and sexy – forever. “Want me to return the favor? Or should I leave you like this?”
Buck whines. He shakes his head slightly, not wanting to dislodge Eddie’s grip. And Eddie must see something, because his expression softens. He slips his fingers out of Buck’s mouth, doesn’t give him the time to miss them, because then Eddie’s kissing him again. Buck melts.
Eddie’s hands fall to his belt, more coordinated than him, and Buck’s dick is in his hand in seconds. There’s a pause as Eddie spits his in hand, and then he’s back to kissing Buck, and his hand is on Buck’s cock with just enough glide, and he lets the wave entirely knock him over.
It’s different because it’s Eddie. Of course it’s Eddie. Buck’s orgasm comes up quick, because he was on the edge just blowing Eddie, he’s not going to last when there’s an actual hand on his dick. And then he’s spilling over Eddie’s hand, whining into Eddie’s mouth, until he slumps forward, entirely boneless.
Eddie holds him, after. And this part isn’t new. But it’s different, because it’s Eddie. Buck is on Eddie’s couch, in the Diaz home, in the only place that really feels like home. Buck’s head is filled with too many thoughts and it’s easier to focus on Eddie, the way their breathing matches up, the way Eddie’s mouth is pressed to Buck’s pulse point on his throat and he desperately, desperately, wants Eddie to leave a bruise.
He doesn’t.
Buck gives himself two more minutes, counts along to the ticks of the analog clock in the kitchen, before he rolls off Eddie’s lap onto the couch. Like that, broken apart, it feels a hell of a lot more real. Reality comes crashing in.
“Are you…” Eddie starts, trailing off with a heavy swallow.
“I’m going to tell him,” Buck says. “Not… Not that it was you. It’s my fault, okay? I’ll make sure this doesn’t blow back on you.”
If it blows back on Buck, then, well. He’s made his bed. He’s not going to repeat history by asking Tommy to move in with him.
“Okay,” Eddie agrees. “You can, though. About me.”
What would be the point? Tommy would get mad at the both of them. Buck’s – It’s whatever. He’ll be honest, and Tommy will react, and they’ll come through on the other side either broken up or not.
“I should take a shower,” Buck says. There’s dried cum on his face and in his pubic hair.
Eddie smiles. It doesn’t seem to meet his eyes. “You know where everything is,” he says with a wave of his hand.
It’s awkward in a way it hasn’t been between them for a long time. Buck showers first, and then Eddie after him, and Buck slips out of the house before Eddie gets out because he really doesn’t know how to say goodbye this time.
—
On the drive home, Buck wonders how he’s going to tell Tommy about this. That was where he went wrong with Taylor – one of the many reasons. Hen had told him: honesty is the best policy. And if Buck had been honest, maybe he wouldn’t have set them up to fail. But he and Taylor had been dating for longer, and it was a kiss; he’s only been dating Tommy for a couple of months, and he can’t describe anything he and Eddie just did politely.
Tommy would break it off. Or, Tommy would get mad at Eddie. He and Eddie are friends – Buck doesn’t want to come between them. And it was a one-time thing. Buck’s got it out of his system. He and Tommy, they’re good. Buck’s figuring out which parts of himself he needs to cover for him, the way he’s done for every other girlfriend he had before. This is just another thing to cover.
Buck’s not going to tell him. The realization sets in as he’s pulling into his apartment building. He’s supposed to go out with Tommy tomorrow night, and they’ll probably end up in a bed, the way their dates always go. And Buck – there’s not a reason to make him upset.
—
It happens again.
“I didn’t tell him,” Buck had told Eddie the day after everything. “I can’t. And it’s – it’s not like I want to keep it a secret, but I…”
Buck had liked it, is the thing. Buck’s never had a secret like this on any of his partners before. All of them, though, seemed to have something to hold over him. Abby, stringing him along because she didn’t know how to say she wasn’t coming back. Ali, who couldn’t handle dating a first responder and only aired that grievance at the worst possible time. Taylor, whose job was finding the answers to thousands of secrets, including Buck’s.
With Natalia, Buck had tried for total honesty. But that managed to backfire anyways.
He gets it now, though, holding the secret. It’s something about the way Tommy doesn’t know, maybe didn’t even suspect. Buck had sex with Eddie, and the thought thrills him just as much as the thought of keeping Tommy in the dark.
“It was just a one-time thing,” Eddie had replied. “It won’t happen again. So don’t worry about it.”
And even when it happens again, and again, Buck doesn’t let himself worry about it.
—
The second time they have sex, there’s not even an excuse. Buck isn’t trying to make Eddie feel better, or whatever. He shows up at Eddie’s in the middle of their 96-off with a case of beer, and Eddie invites him in. They crack open a beer each, get through two innings of a ball game, and then Buck’s kissing Eddie again and they forget about the beer and baseball.
They make it to the bed this time. It’s not the first time Buck’s been in Eddie’s bed, but it’s the first time he’s been in Eddie’s bed and wrestling his shirt off while Eddie strips efficiently next to him. It’s the first time Eddie lowers himself on top of Buck, miles of bare, hot skin, all their limbs merging and melting into one.
Eddie still can’t leave marks, but he hasn’t told Buck he can’t, and he takes advantage of that. Eddie’s neck is red and bruised by the time Buck’s done with him, and Eddie’s been alternating between groping Buck’s ass and rolling their hips together. It still feels rushed. Buck doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to take his time with Eddie, because he can’t get enough.
It’s a sunny afternoon in June, and Buck is cheating on his boyfriend, and he really, really, really, doesn’t fucking care.
This time, Eddie manages to find the underused lube living in his nightstand, and Buck lies on his hands and knees, face tucked into Eddie’s pillow. It smells like him, his Target body wash and a hint of his cologne, a smell Buck’s gotten used to over the years.
“This okay?” Eddie asks from behind. He has one hand on Buck’s hip, thumb rubbing in circles. The snap of the lube cap had happened long ago, it feels like, and Buck’s been getting tenser with anticipation since then.
“Uh-huh,” Buck mumbles, his face half-pressed into the pillow. “Just – please?”
When Eddie speaks, Buck can hear the smile in his voice. “Well, if you’re gonna ask so nicely…”
The press of his finger to Buck’s hole is a surprise. It always is. But Eddie calms him through it, hand on his hip, muttering niceties until Buck’s relaxed enough for Eddie to press it in. And then another, and another, and Eddie finds his prostate with unerring accuracy and sends lightning up Buck’s spine.
He whines, pressing back against Eddie’s hand, wanting more and more. Eddie’s hand trails up his spine to the back of his neck, holding him there, and Buck goes boneless as he gets scruffed. He lets Eddie take his time, lets Eddie to whatever he wants, working Buck up to the edge with just his fingers in his ass and nothing else. He doesn’t think he’s ever come like this, but if anyone could make him do it, it’d be Eddie.
“Are you ready?” Eddie whispers. He’s leaning over Buck’s back, his bare chest pressed to him. Buck can feel the way his necklace trails over his skin.
“Please, please,” Buck begs. “Fuck me, Eddie, please.”
“God, Buck, the way you sound,” Eddie groans. He presses a kiss to his spine, just a flash of his teeth before they’re gone. Buck whines; he wants Eddie to bite down, draw blood, leave something behind. “I can’t,” Eddie says, understanding him perfectly and sounding just as pained. “You don’t want him to know.”
Buck doesn’t. Buck does. Buck doesn’t want to think about anything besides Eddie fucking him, but thankfully, it’s his lucky day.
Eddie lines up, presses into him slowly, and Buck has to muffle his groans into the pillow. There’s no one else in the house, but Buck’s afraid that the neighbors will call in a noise complaint if he doesn’t muffle himself. Eddie doesn’t let him. He tears the pillow away from Buck as he bottoms out, both of them groaning at the feeling.
“I want to hear you,” Eddie says. Buck twists just enough to see Eddie leaning over him, his hands gripping onto Buck’s hips. “I wanna hear how loud you get when I’m the one fucking you.”
And – okay. Buck knows it’s getting him off. He didn’t consider what it would do for Eddie. Maybe it’s more for Eddie, what with the Catholic guilt of it all or whatever. And Buck knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that maybe it would’ve been Eddie, if Tommy hadn’t shown up at his apartment. Buck’s always been easy. Of course he’d go for the one that kisses him first.
“Then fuck me,” Buck responds, pushing back into Eddie. He was being kind, holding still for Buck to adjust to the stretch, but Buck’s been having a lot of gay sex recently. He’s pretty fucking stretched.
Eddie does. He keeps a firm hold of Buck’s hips and rails into him, pushing Buck up the bed just a bit with every thrust. He has to brace his forearms against the bed to keep himself from actually moving, knows he looks like a slut with the curve of his back, but the part him he thought he left behind with Buck 1.0, it’s more than happy to make a reprisal.
It feels like an earthquake, the way Eddie keeps a fast and steady pace. Buck doesn’t get time to think, his brain overloaded with pleasure and sensations. Eddie wraps a hand around his cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts, and it doesn’t take long until Buck’s cumming, a long whine echoing through the room. Eddie takes a lot longer to follow, dredging up stamina from somewhere deep inside, and Buck thinks he’s had two orgasms by the time Eddie spills inside of him.
He collapses on top of Buck, chin connecting with the meat of his shoulder. The wet spot underneath Buck is kind of gross, but he can’t bring himself to move. Not with Eddie’s heavy, sated weight on top of him.
“You’re like a dream,” Eddie murmurs quietly, fucked out. “What did I do to deserve you?”
Buck doesn’t answer, even though the answer is quite simple. Eddie didn’t do anything except stick by Buck. A stray that’s given even just a scrap of attention, food, affection, it’s hard to shake off.
Instead, Buck says, “Give me twenty and I’ll show you a dream,” except he doesn’t really stick the delivery, and just makes Eddie laugh.
—
And so it goes. When there’s been a hard shift, Buck will sometimes follow Eddie home. Other times, Buck’s got a date with Tommy, so they say their goodbyes in the locker room and go their separate ways. His dates with Tommy are fine enough: nice restaurants, gay bars, walks on the beach, and they always end up at the loft or Tommy’s apartment.
They have sex, and Tommy gets to leave bruises. And later, when Buck shows up to Eddie’s with those bruises, Eddie will press down harder, fit the bruise to the shape of his own teeth, make it his. Buck’s never bothered arguing against it. He likes when Eddie overwrites Tommy’s touch on his skin. He likes how the sight of them make Eddie’s eyes darken, jealousy seeping out, like he has any right to be jealous with that they’re doing.
Some nights, when Buck is alone in the loft, he wonders: why don’t I just break-up with him?
Tommy is fine, but it’s not like he’s spectacular. Buck’s had better sex – hell, he’s having better sex right now. But it’s the break-up, it’s the admittal, it’s the idea that Buck still can’t get this one thing right. And he can’t, and he hasn’t, but he wants to play along for just a while longer.
—
Buck gets to his apartment after spending another afternoon with Eddie. He’s pleasantly sore and sleepy, but napping will just ruin whatever sleep schedule he can manage, so he’s trying to cook an early dinner. That’s when Tommy arrives, and Buck remembers he was supposed to come over tonight. It totally slipped his mind. And Buck had just barely talked himself out of taking a nap in Eddie’s bed. He’d still be there, and Tommy would be on the other side of that door, wondering where Buck was.
Tommy kisses him at the threshold, because they’re a couple, but he sits at the island while Buck finishes up their dinner. He has to hurriedly come up with an extra serving, hoping Tommy doesn’t notice. He doesn’t say anything as he talks about work and asks Buck about his day.
“How’s Eddie?” Tommy asks. “He has that group thing, right?”
It takes Buck’s brain a second to flick through its mental catalog of all the lies he’s said in the past few weeks. He was told once, by Hen, that he was a shit liar. He’s known that for most of his life. Buck had never seen in the point in it. It took him way too long to learn how white lies make social interactions easy, and during that time, somehow stumbled into a policy of absolute honesty. He’s mostly stuck to it. This summer is a huge outlier, really.
Lies of omission are one thing. Lying to Tommy’s face about Eddie’s group therapy appointment Buck took him to, when they really fucked in Eddie’s bed for three glorious hours, is another.
Buck’s brain remembers telling Tommy this a few days again, so Buck says, “Yeah. I really think they’re helping him. He looks better, y’know?”
“He does,” Tommy agrees. “We’re going to a bout this weekend.” Buck already knows, because Eddie told him. Not in the afterglow, but while they were on shift. He gets told things twice a lot these days. “Glad to know he’s feeling up to going out more.”
“Therapy,” Buck says with a smile, thinking of the way Eddie had straddled him, “works wonders.”
—
Buck’s riding Eddie when his phone rings. Buck would ignore it, maybe even reach over to silence it, but he left it face-up on the nightstand. Tommy’s name flashes across the screen, the photo of him and Buck behind it. Buck’s stomach swoops, his gut clenching, as his movements stop and he stutters out, “It’s – It’s Tommy.”
Eddie’s been laying with one arm over his head, a steadying hand on Buck’s hip, just enjoying the show. He doesn’t tense up when Buck says who’s calling, doesn’t look worried at all. Worse, he smiles. “Answer it.”
“What? No!” Buck hisses. Eddie rolls his hips as he speaks, and Buck breaks off into a moan.
“Answer it, Buck,” Eddie says again.
Buck has his phone in his hand before he realizes.
“H-Hey, Tommy,” Buck says as he accepts the call. There’s no way to describe his voice except wrecked. He had Eddie’s cock down his throat half an hour ago and it’s still sore. Tommy, who is intimately aware of how Buck’s voice sounds when he’s well-fucked, catches on immediately.
“Evan,” he says with a trace of delight, “what are you doing right now?”
“Just have – having fun,” Buck manages, his voice wavering as Eddie rolls up his hips again.
Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Buck’s face, a satisfied smirk on his face. He’s barely affected by it, Buck thinks, until he sees how Eddie’s eyes have darkened. No, it’s a, it’s a thing for Eddie, Buck being between the two of them. And Buck keeps picking Eddie.
“I know you can do better than that,” Tommy says with a luck of his tongue. Like a chastised dog, something in Buck shrinks. “I was going to ask if you were free to come over, but I don’t want to interrupt your fun.”
“Tommy,” Buck says, tries to whine, but he really wants to be whining Eddie, dragging out all the vowels. “I’m just –”
“Tell me what you’re thinking about,” Tommy commands.
It’s nothing like the way Eddie commands him. When Tommy says to do something, Buck barely feels the need to go along with it. He looks at Eddie underneath him, trying to gauge his mood. All Eddie does is make a motion with his hand, telling Buck to get on with it.
“I’m thinking about riding you,” Buck says, his eyes trained on Eddie. “How you’d feel me up with your big dick.” On the record: Eddie’s is bigger. He’s the one that should’ve been called firehose, goddamn. “Your hand on me.”
As if on cue, Eddie wraps a hand around Buck’s cock. His own moan is more like a whine, dragged out of him. He can hear Tommy’s breathing picking up on the other end, the sound of his hand on his cock managing to come through. He wonders if Tommy can hear them, can hear the way Eddie thrusts up into him.
“Yeah?” Tommy’s voice is breathy. “I love the way you’d look at me,” he’s saying, but Buck is barely paying attention. Eddie’s jerking him off, nice and slow, nothing like what Buck wants. Add in the slow rolls of his hips, and it’s just enough to bring him near the edge, but not over.
It’s Tommy’s voice, though. Not his voice, but that Tommy is there – that Tommy doesn’t even realize. Buck’s fucking Eddie, his boyfriend thinks they’re having phone sex, and the perverse delight that comes from it is what’s getting Buck worked up. It’s Eddie’s eyes on his, Tommy’s oblivious words, and Buck’s own greedy desire.
“You getting close?” Tommy again. Buck wants to hang up, wants to throw his phone against the wall so he can fuck himself on Eddie’s cock.
“Yes,” he whines, bouncing slightly. His thighs are burning, but he could do this forever. “Please, please.” He’s begging, his voice high-pitched, but it’s not for Tommy. It’s for Eddie underneath. “I want to – I need to –”
“You can come,” Tommy says.
Buck holds off until Eddie nods, a half-second later, and then he’s sobbing as Eddie jerks him through his orgasm. His cum splatters across Eddie’s stomach and chest, but Eddie keeps stroking him until Buck thinks he’s actually crying.
It takes him a long moment to realize he dropped his phone.
“Evan?” Tommy is saying when he holds his phone up to his ear. “Are you still there?”
“I am,” he says, sounding even more wrecked. He whimpers as Eddie rocks his hips up, extra stimulation to his woked-over dick. “Sorry, I just…”
“I know,” Tommy says, amused. He doesn’t. Buck’s giddy with that knowledge. “Think you can hold yourself off until you get here?”
For a moment, Buck considers it. He’ll finish up here with Eddie, taker a quick shower, and then cart himself halfway across town to see Tommy. It wouldn’t be the first time. But Buck’s not in the mood to cut this short.
“Sorry, I’m doing something with Maddie tonight,” he says. It’s always an easy excuse. Buck just has to say his sister’s name, or someone from the 118, and Tommy will back off. “Raincheck?”
“Of course,” Tommy says. “I’ll talk to you later, Evan.”
Buck fumbles his way through the goodbyes before Tommy finally hangs up. This time, he turns his ringer off before he tosses it out of reach. And within seconds, Eddie’s pulling him down into a dirty kiss, his hand like a brand on the back of Buck’s neck. His cock shifts inside Buck, and he whines into Eddie’s mouth.
“God, that was fucking hot,” Eddie says. “He doesn’t have a clue.”
The way Eddie says it, wondrous and self-satisfied. No, Tommy doesn’t have a clue. Buck splits his time between the two of them, playing the boyfriend, playing Eddie’s best friend, and it ends up like this most of the time no matter who he’s with.
“Eddie,” Buck whines, now that he has the freedom to say his name. It feels right in his mouth, the shape of it, a name he’s been saying for six years. He wants to say it for the rest of his life, like this, like he does in the kitchen, forever. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
He makes his point by grinding down. It makes Eddie groan, his hands flying down to Buck’s hips. No matter how many times they’ve done this, it’ll always feel new, he thinks. Even as Buck learns what makes Eddie moan like a fucking girl, how Eddie looks when he’s just on the edge, the way he smiles right before he ruins Buck for anyone else, it’ll still feel new.
Eddie never wants to talk about Tommy, either. They talk around him, never acknowledging it. They know what they’re doing. Buck is cheating, and Eddie is letting him – helping him, being an accomplice, hauling him back in every time Buck thinks maybe it’s the last time. But to talk about Tommy means bringing in the outside world to this space they’ve carved between them in the Diaz home, and neither of them want to do that.
“I can work with that,” Eddie says, his stupid little catchphrase that always manages to make Buck melt. He thrusts up, brushing against Buck’s prostate, and the overstimulation makes him sob. “You want another one, Buck? You want me to make you come until you can’t even remember him?”
“Yes, yes, please,” he begs. “Just you, Eddie,” he promises, hands on Eddie’s shoulders like maybe it’ll be enough to hold him down, “I just want you.”
It’s a flurry of limbs. Eddie gets Buck on his back, slides his cock back into him, and then he’s fucking Buck with reckles abandon. Each thrust jolts him up the bed, forces a noise out of him, keening moans and grunts, pleasure on the side of too much. Buck loses himself in it, loses himself in Eddie, floats out to sea while Eddie just uses him.
When Eddie finishes, pushing Buck over the edge a second time, he collapses on Buck’s chest. This is normal. The post-sex, sweaty cuddles, gross and sticky in all the worst places, and Buck should feel gross but – he doesn’t. Everything is so goddamn easy with Eddie, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything else. In this house, he doesn’t.
“Was that okay?” Eddie asks after a comfortable silence has fallen over them. “The, uh, phonecall?”
“It‘s fine,” Buck says perfunctorily. He was into it, the way Tommy thought it was himself helping Buck orgasm.
But there’s something sticking in his chest, like a cough he can’t quite manage to shake. If Buck gives himself a moment to think about it, he knows what it is.
—
After the phone call, Buck steps it up.
Here’s the thing: he knows it’s fucked up. He knows is undeniably cheating, going on a date with Tommy and then making his way to Eddie’s, falling into Eddie’s bed, letting all thoughts of Tommy fall away. In the moment, it’s perfect. In the moment, Buck deludes himself into think he can have Eddie. He can’t have Eddie – not the way he wants, with a marriage certificate and a fucking mortgage, tying him to the man with miles upon miles of red tape because he knows Eddie hates dealing with that more than anything else – but he can have this.
Buck can have these stolen moments in the Diaz home, in the truck with its tinted windows, Buck feeling like he’s in his early twenties and still begging for every scrap of attention. He’s never asked Eddie about it, because that’d be too close to making them name it. Eddie fucks him, kisses him softly, and that has to be enough for Buck.
He lets Tommy have the rest of him. Tommy gets him in the loft, in his own apartment, calls him Evan and leaves bruises on his neck and thighs. Buck figures out which parts are Evan and which parts are Buck, and he doesn’t let them cross. Tommy gets Evan; Eddie gets Buck.
And when being Evan isn’t enough, doesn’t fill up the hole in his chest he thinks he was born with, Buck finds his way to the Diaz home. He’ll find himself on the other side of Eddie’s bed, everything they won’t talk about sitting between them. Buck will say you wanna? and Eddie will say yes, of course, and that’s the closest they’ll ever get to acknowledging it.
—
They got out to a grungy gay bar, ending up at a table with other out firefighters from across houses. Tommy brought it up, and Buck asked about inviting Eddie along, and he’s been sitting between them for most of the night while the whole groups exchanges stories and ribs each other. Tommy’s hands are above the table, one hand holding his beer, the other moving around as he speaks. Eddie has one hand on Buck’s thigh, fingers brushing against the in-seam.
It’s bold. It’s on the edge of too obvious, but Buck is two shots and two beers in, and he couldn’t care less. It’s not like Tommy even notices, too busy talking to friends. Buck tries to follow the conversation, adds in his two-cents when he can, but Eddie’s hand on his thigh is all he can focus on. Eddie’s fingers swipe up, towards his groin, and Buck realizes that he’s half-hard in his pants and it’s only going to get worse.
He debates, for a moment, if he should just ignore it. Eddie will follow his lead, Buck knows, even though he’s the one working Buck up. It’s intoxicating, though, the idea of doing this right under Tommy’s nose. Buck wants to push it.
He tilts his head to whisper in Tommy’s ear, “I’m gonna hit the head.” Tommy just gives him a pat on the arm, too busy listening to someone – David, Buck thinks his name is – talk about a recue he did earlier that month. To Eddie, who’s penning Buck into the booth, he whispers, “Follow me after two minutes.”
Eddie lets him pass, and Buck is only in the bathroom for about a minute before Eddie bangs in.
They fall into the biggest stall, Buck scrambling to close the door behind them. Eddie kisses him, rough and biting, and Buck allows it for a few seconds until he sinks to his knees. They have to be fast about this one, he knows, and if they stick with handjobs then there’s going to be stains and Eddie’s throat might have a few new bruises.
So Buck sinks to his knees, getting Eddie’s pants unbuckled and his cock out in record time, swallowing it down and feeling some of that frenetic energy fall away. Eddie’s hands are petting his hair, his face, muttering out compliments – but never Buck’s name, not like this – as Buck swallows him down, his throat burning, nose buried in Eddie’s skin until all he can think about is Eddie’s musk, the weight of his cock on Buck’s tongue.
It doesn’t take long. Buck is good at sucking dick, and Eddie is already on edge, and soon he’s spilling into Buck’s mouth. Buck swallows every drop, lapping at the head as he pulls off, resting his head against Eddie’s thigh as he catches his breath. He watches as Eddie tucks himself back in. Buck goes when Eddie tugs him back to his feet, presses Buck’s shoulders against the wall, and stays like that as Eddie gets on his own knees.
Buck isn’t going to last long. Eddie has that effect on him; by the time Eddie’s got Buck’s dick in his mouth, Buck can already feel his orgasm creeping up on him. And maybe he’d think being a quick shot is pathetic, but it’s been building ever since Eddie sat next to him at the table.
Eddie keeps his eyes trained on Buck as he chokes on Buck’s cock, and the squeeze of his throat is enough to make him come. Eddie swallows most of it, but some cum dribbles out of his mouth. He goes to wipe it off with the back of his hand, but Buck stops him, pulling him up with a gentle hand on his wrist. Instead, Buck kisses it off Eddie’s face, slobbering over him, but the taste of himself, Eddie’s tongue fucking into his mouth, it’s just hot.
They clean themselves up the best they can, wiping at their faces and hands. Buck’s mouth is a little red, Eddie’s clothes is a little rumpled, but it’s not fun if they can put themselves back together perfectly. The door opens and another patron stumbles in, drunk off his ass. Buck and Eddie turn to each other, both grinning like fucking idiots.
Buck gets back to the table first, slipping next to Tommy. He doesn’t say anything about how long it took. The same guy is still telling his story, and Buck still doesn’t pay attention. Eddie gets back with more beers, handing one over to Buck as he slides in next to him. His hand falls back to Buck’s thigh, heavy, possessive, like a reminder.
—
Buck’s on a not-date with Tommy, which is what Buck calls it when Tommy invites him over under the thinnest guise of having sex. Tonight, it’s beers and a ball game. He had texted Buck as he was getting in his Jeep after an afternoon at Eddie’s. Buck had considered it on the drive, feeling a rock in his stomach the entire time, and decided to say yes.
So he’s at Tommy’s apartment, and in any second, Tommy’s going to give up the pretense of watching the game. Buck waits, his stomach coiling. He drinks his beer and plays with the label, and waits desperately for Tommy to turn to him and kiss him.
And he does, and then they stumble to the bedroom, and their clothes are off and Buck’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling, before he even realizes. His dick’s in the game, even though Eddie wrung three orgasms out of him earlier. Tommy looms over him, rummaging for his bottle of lube. It’s nothing like Eddie’s bed. There’s usually more: more touching, more talking, more pleasure.
Tommy lubes up his fingers and pulls at Buck’s cock a couple of times, until it’s hard and red and Buck’s writhing in place. He’s too goddamn sensitive for this, on a hair trigger. Tommy’s hand drifts lower, behind his balls, pressing at his hole.
His finger slips in easily, no stretching needed. Tommy grins wide, toying with Buck’s sensitive rim. “Aw, you prepped for me,” he says.
Buck whines, and maybe Tommy thinks it’s agreement, slipping more fingers in. Buck thinks about telling him the truth: Eddie ate me out for an hour before fucking me. Buck didn’t do it for Tommy, God no. The words bubble up behind his lips but he keeps them clamped shut.
It won’t do anything, Buck thinks. It’ll just hurt Tommy, just hurt Eddie. It’s easier to keep this bottled up. He’s Evan now – and Evan is the perfect boyfriend.
“You ready, Evan?” Tommy asks, and it’s so easy to say yes.
—
The one time they almost get caught, it’s not by Tommy. Maybe they should’ve gotten caught, take the whole matter out of Buck’s hands. But it’s an almost.
It’s the first time they go to the loft, because it’s closer, because Eddie is handsy and his breath is hot on Buck’s neck, and maybe Buck’s just tired of Eddie’s bed. Eddie seems to delight in the change of location, pressing Buck down against his own bed, wrists pinned to the sheets.
That had been something for him to get used to. Most of his previous partners couldn’t hold him down like this. Buck hadn’t wanted to for most of them, anyways. Eddie draws it out of him, holding Buck’s wrists down as he fucks into him. Buck’s had the breath pushed out of him, his back bowed in a way that it’s hard to take in a full breathe.
He’s not moaning as loud as he usually is, which is why they can hear the jingle of keys in the apartment door. Buck and Eddie freeze, looking at each other. There’s only three people, besides Buck, who have a key to his apartment. One of them has his dick up Buck’s ass. The other two are Maddie and Bobby. He’s not certain which one he wants to deal with.
In a fumble of limbs and sheets, they detach. Buck winces at the way Eddie slips out of him, but he’s already stumbling into his sweatpants as he shoves Eddie and a bundle of clothes into the en suite. Eddie tries to protest, but Buck clicks the door into place as his apartment door swings open.
“Evan?” It’s Maddie. Buck’s shoulders slump before tensing up again. “Where are you?”
“Up here!” Buck calls. He pulls the first shirt his fingers snag over his head. “Just give me a second!”
He checks the mirror over his dresser and – okay, he looks like he had just had sex. He tries to tame his hair, smoothing the curls back into obedience, and willing his flush down, but he can’t stall for much longer. At least his dick has flagged given the sudden intrusion.
He clambers down the stairs. Maddie has several tote bags from TJ’s, and is currently unpacking groceries into his own fridge. “What’s all this for?”
“I thought we could hang out,” she says with a smile. “Make dinner, maybe some dessert…”
“What’s the occasion?”
Her smile is a little strained around the edges. “I just… haven’t seen you that much recently. Maybe I miss my little brother.”
Before his mind catches up with him, Buck says, “Yeah! Yeah, I missed you too, Mads. What’s on the menu?”
He joins her in the kitchen, unpacking everything she’s brought for homemade pasta. It’ll be an hours-long affair, Buck realizes. He has Eddie locked in the upstairs bathroom, Maddie in his kitchen, and at this point it’ll be way too suspicious if Eddie just walks out the door.
If Buck were a worse person – and admittedly, he’s pretty bad, given his extracurricular activities – he might’ve tried to shuffle her back out of the door, so Eddie could escape. Buck knows he’s not the greatest guy, not really, but he can’t imagine acting like that to Maddie. Not after everything. And he misses her too. He uses her as an excuse plenty of times, begging off dates or nights with Tommy, but he hasn’t seen her all that much. Buck’s free time is split between Tommy and Eddie.
He goes upstairs to grab his phone, sees a long line of notifications from Eddie lighting up the screen, and then he slips inside the bathroom. Eddie is curled up against the wall of his closet, frowning up at him.
“What the fuck?” Eddie asks, keeping his voice down. “It’s been twenty minutes, Buck!”
“Sorry,” he says, pressing a hand to his nose. “She’s – We’re cooking dinner. I can’t ask her to leave, okay? I’ll get her on the balcony and text you the all clear to head out, okay?”
Eddie’s frown, somehow, deepens. “How long is that going to take?”
“Uh, probably when we have to let the pasta dough proof,” Buck says, “so maybe like in thirty, forty minutes? But if you have, like, somewhere to be I can probably fake something…”
“No, I don’t have any plans,” Eddie says with a sigh. Buck knew that. Eddie’s been free all summer, with Chris in Texas. “I’ll just keep hanging out next to your dirty socks, man.”
Buck taps his nose, then points at Eddie. “That’s the spirit. I’ll keep you posted.”
Back in the kitchen, Maddie’s cleared off a large section of his countertop to mix the flour and eggs, and Buck’s eager to join her. He hasn’t seen her in awhile, haven’t really talked much either, so it’s easy to lose track of time as they talk. When the pasta starts proofing, Maddie gets started on the sauce, and both of them are halfway through a bottle of wine and Buck maybe, just a little, forgets about his best friend hiding in his bathroom.
Hours later, after Buck’s called Chimney to come pick up his happily wine-drunk wife and pushing her out the door, he hears his ensuite open. There’s the heavy stomp of Eddie’s feet down the stairs, and Buck’s shoulders are up to his ears because he forgot, and he takes too long to turn to face the man. Hang-dog expression already in place, he’s expecting Eddie’s annoyance, maybe even anger, but he’s really not expecting Eddie to crowd him up against his door.
“You asshole,” Eddie says, and his breath is hot and freshly minty like he got bored and used Buck’s toothpaste. He doesn’t sound mad, though, not mad enough to actually argue with Buck.
“Sorry,” Buck says. His hands go to Eddie’s hips, holding him in place. He doesn’t sound all that sorry, doesn’t feel all that sorry, not if it’s got Eddie acting like this.
“We got interrupted,” Eddie says, and a flare of lust shoots through Buck, “but I think you need to make it up to me first.”
Buck nods eagerly, his chin almost clipping Eddie’s nose. “Uh-huh,” he says breathily, “whatever you want.”
What Eddie wants is Buck on his knees, his cock in Buck’s mouth, setting the pace hard and punishing. Buck’s already hard, straining against his sweatpants, as Eddie uses a tight grip in his hair to choke Buck on his cock. His eyes are watering, his throat convulsing around the intrusion, but Eddie’s groaning low in his throat and Buck wants to be good. He’ll let Eddie move him whatever way he wants, use him, because all Buck wants is to be useful. And if this is what he can give Eddie, then he’ll give it.
Eddie pulls Buck off him before he cums, and Buck makes a pitiful whimper like he lost his favorite toy. Eddie’s expression softens, just a bit. “It’s okay,” he soothes, petting over Buck’s hair and slipping two fingers in his mouth, just to give Buck something to suck on. “Let’s go back up to the bed, yeah?”
They don’t make it up to the bed. Whether that’s because of Buck, or just Eddie losing his patience, Buck ends up bent over the couch armrest, his legs spread wide, as Eddie fingers him open with just spit. The stretch burns, because spit is not good substitute for lube, but Buck deserves it. A punishment, pain mixed with pleasure. He pushes back into Eddie’s hand, whines as Eddie brushes his prostate, knows his neighbors can hear him moan like a fucking pornstar, but Buck can’t bring himself to care.
“Jesus Christ, Buck,” he hears Eddie mutter after one especially loud noise. “You want everyone to hear you, huh? Want to call Maddie back up, see if you can hide this from her?” He slaps Buck’s ass, the sound ringing in the apartment, jolting him into the couch. His cock rubs against the arm, barely any friction but enough to make him whine. “Or maybe we should call up Tommy?”
Buck shakes his head, even though his stomach is doing flips. Just mentioning his name is enough to set them both off, the reminder of this affair. “No, no,” he says, pressing his mouth into his arm. “I just want – just want you.”
There’s something satisfied in Eddie’s voice as he says, “That’s what I thought. I’m all you need. Not him. Bet he doesn’t make you feel like this.” Eddie’s hand wraps around his cock, stroking him a few times as Buck whines and shakes his head. “He can’t fill you up like I do.”
Eddie’s fingers slip out of him, replaced by his cock, and Buck sobs as he presses in. The burn is just the right side of painful. Eddie spits on him, and it’s gross and sexy and Buck muffles his noises against his forearm as Eddie keeps sliding in.
“Does your boyfriend fuck you as good as I do?” Eddie asks, bottoming out. Buck is full, all his nerves firing, slumping into the couch because he can’t manage to hold himself off. Eddie’s words pull another moan out of him, an agreement; his boyfriend doesn’t, can’t, not the way Eddie does. “Does your boyfriend take care of you like I do?”
When all Buck can do is make another noise into his arm, Eddie grabs a fistful of hair and pulls his head back. “Say it,” he commands.
Buck squeezes his eyes shut against the sting of pain. Light is flashing behind his eyes. “He doesn’t,” he says, the words crawling out of him. “You do – Only you, Eddie.”
Eddie releases his grip, Buck’s head drops back to his arms, and then he’s fucking Buck in earnest. His hands on Buck’s hips, leverage as he thrusts into him, their bodies meeting with a loud noise every time. Is all Buck can do to keep a grip on the couch, on his sanity, as Eddie seems determined to drive every thought out of his mind.
Buck comes like that, nothing on his dick, just the feeling of Eddie brushing against his prostate as he drives into Buck. He spares half a thought to the couch, but Eddie keeps fucking him with no change in pace, and Buck loses himself in that. He loses his voice at some point, cracking in the middle of a moan, all that’s left are little noises forced out of him with every thrust.
It could be hours, could be forever, but Eddie’s pace eventually changes. Buck thinks he’s had another orgasm or two pushed out of him, but he’s so sensitive, everything feels heightened. He wants more; he wants Eddie’s hand on his dick; he wants Eddie’s teeth in his neck. Buck’s a black hole, sucking in everything Eddie will give him, and he still wants more.
Eddie slows, fucking into him deeper and deeper, until he finally comes inside of Buck. He presses himself over Buck’s back, nose tucked into his neck, as his orgasm shudders through him. He also gets a hand on Buck’s oversensitive dick, making a valiant comeback but it’s been sitting at half-chub, and manages to wring another orgasm out of him. A pathetic amount of cum leaks out of him, but it still has Buck crying into his arms.
“Look at you,” Eddie murmurs. The loft feels so quiet, without the sound of skin slapping together, their sounds of pleasure. “All used up.”
Buck whines, the noise getting louder as Eddie slips out of him. And then Eddie’s sticking his fingers back into him, catching on his sensitive rim, keeping Eddie’s cum inside of Buck.
“Maybe I’ll send you back to him like this,” Eddie says. Buck had told him about the other day, when Tommy fucked him after Eddie stretched him all nice and pliant. Eddie had used a condom, then. He didn’t today. “You’d like that, huh? And maybe he wouldn’t fuck you, maybe he wouldn’t even know, that you’ve been used by another man.”
It’s a lot. Buck’s been floating somewhere between his body and not, and all Eddie’s words do is keep him there. He makes a noise, doesn’t really know what he wants it to mean. He wants Eddie’s hands on him, though. Eddie’s fingers keeping him plugged up, Eddie’s other hand sweeping up and down his ribcage, Eddie’s sweaty chest plasted to Buck’s back. He wants to stay like this forever, he thinks, until the heat death of the universe takes them.
He doesn’t get that. Eddie says something like, “Okay, Buck?” and whether it’s a question or a statement, Buck doesn’t reply. He gets upstairs somehow. He gets shoved in the shower, and only muscle memory gets him moving, washing his hair and cleaning all the dried and tacky cum off his body. He can still feel some dripping out from between his legs, and something pathetic inside of him mourns that loss.
By the time he’s done with his shower, Buck feels like his skin fits him better. He expects to see Eddie in his room waiting for him, or maybe picking at the leftovers from dinner. “Eddie?” he calls, when he doesn’t see him at first. There isn’t an answer.
Buck sinks down onto his bed, feeling like his body weighs a thousand pounds. Every since that first night, they haven’t just left each other. Even quickies, stolen moments in Eddie’s truck before team hang-outs or drinks at the bar, they don’t just leave.
Eddie left, and Buck falls back on his bed, his ass sore and his heart sinking somewhere beneath his feet. Maybe Eddie had somewhere to go, he justifies to himself. Buck curls up on the bed, buries his head in a pillow, and tries to pretend the pain isn’t even there.
—
A few days later, they’re at work and everything is fine. Buck and Eddie have always managed to separate their work life from their sex life. They’re a well-oiled machine, even if Bobby’s not the man captaining them, and there’s no bad air between them. It’s been a good shift, and Buck is buzzing by the time they pack up and head out to their cars.
“I’ll follow?” Buck asks. It’s been their routine for awhile now, even before Buck kissed him and started this whole thing. They have a bad shift – or even a good one – and end up at Eddie’s. More recently, in Eddie’s bed. But Buck asks every time, because he’s learned the hard way about assuming.
Eddie’s shoulders bunch up. “No, I, uh. I got some things I have to take care of,” he says. “Later, maybe?”
“Yeah, sure,” Buck says. It happens, he knows. Summer’s ending, school’s about the start, and Chris is due home soon. Buck knows that’s going to cut into their extracurricular activities.
He doesn’t think about it, is the thing. Sometimes Eddie is busy; sometimes Buck is busy, and not just with Tommy. It’s not like he’s owed to Eddie’s time or whatever. But then it keeps happened. Buck keeps asking, keep texting, but Eddie is always busy, always begging off, and before he realizes, it’s been two weeks since they had sex.
With any other person, Buck would take it for what it is: ghosting. Except he still sees Eddie, still works with him just fine in the field. It’s the sex that’s stopped. And Buck misses it.
He still has Tommy, but Buck’s long decided which one of them he vastly prefers in bed. He misses the feeling of running around with Eddie, ducking calls and seeing where the line is, how far they can press Buck-and-Eddie until it makes others suspicious. Without Eddie, Buck loses some of the excitement about seeing Tommy.
And without the excuse of seeing Eddie, Buck spends more time with Tommy. It’s funny, how he’s actually having to act like a boyfriend in a way he hasn’t – didn’t – before. They spent more time together. They have sex. And if Buck finds himself missing the way Eddie would trace patterns over his body in lieu of leaving marks, it’s not like he can do anything about it.
Buck thinks about telling Tommy. Now that it’s over, apparently. It’s not like it’s a threat anymore. He wonders if Tommy will get mad, if Tommy would break up with him. He wonders if Tommy would be into it, the same way Eddie was.
Buck’s not used to people still liking him when they realize how much of him has been left behind with past partners, hook-ups, quickies in bar bathrooms across the states. Tommy wants Evan, and Buck’s not sure how much of Evan is left anymore.
Eddie had been happy with just Buck.
—
Chris comes home from El Paso, with a tan and new stories. Eddie had been icing Buck out, but he can’t for this – not when it’s Christopher. Buck tries to give them their space, though. He knows the two of them have been working things out, knows that they’ve been going to family counseling. Buck had been the one to pick Eddie back up after one especially hard session, piecing him back together. They didn’t have sex; Buck just held Eddie and pretended he gets to support Eddie like this all the time.
But Chris asks Buck to come over, so he does. Eddie greets him at the door like everything is normal, so Buck supposes it must be.
“Chris! It’s good to see you!” Buck says. He’s pathetically grateful when Chris – fourteen now, getting taller and taller ever day – allows the hug. He clings to Buck just as tight, so at least Buck was equally missed. “Did you have a good summer?”
“It was cool,” Chris says, trying for the apathy that most teenagers seem to develop around this age. “I made some friends, hung out with my cousins.”
Buck knows Eddie had been worried that Chris would spend his entire summer on his computer, talking to his friends in LA instead of enjoying the summer. From what Buck gathered, Eddie’s parents didn’t seem too inclined to encourage him to go out, but Isabel and Eddie’s sisters took care of that for him. Chris’ tan speaks of days spent in the sun, his hair sun-bleached lighter, and he’s got a couple of braided friendship bracelets around a wrist.
He looks happy. Buck feeds off of his happiness. He doesn’t worry if it’s going to be awkward with Eddie.
They eat dinner, with Chris leading the conversation the entire time. He went into Juarez a few times with his cousins, took a road trip to Galveston – Buck shudders, because fuck Galveston, who the hell wants to go there when the Pacific Ocean is wide and yawning and beautiful on one side of this county – and how he’s decided, “I’m still angry, but I missed you too much to stay down there.”
After a moment, he added: “Also, Abuela didn’t let me have a TV in my room.”
“Glad my laissez-faire screen policy got me to the finish line,” Eddie says with a laugh.
He disappears after dinner, a teenager beholden to no one’s presence. Eddie offers Buck a beer, motioning to the porch, and Buck agrees. They settle on the steps, enough space between them that only their knees would knock together if Buck spread his legs. He just worries at the label on the beer, tearing off little pieces of paper.
Los Angeles never really gets quiet. It’s never going to be silent unless Buck drives out of the city. He’s thought about pointing the Jeep east, heading out on the 10 until he gets to Joshua Tree Park. All those nights on the road got him accustomed to that type of silent. Even the seven years he’s spent in Los Angeles haven’t been enough to shake it.
It’s silent in Eddie’s backyard, though. Not the comfortable kind of silence – not for Buck, at least. He misses his best friend. He’s ruined something else, he knows, maybe one of the few good things he had left. Buck was finally too much for Eddie.
“We good?” Buck asks eventually.
Eddie glances over at him, fingers tapping on his bottle. He sighs, a blustery thing, and tilts his head up to look at the sky. Buck knows he won’t find any stars. “Yeah, we’re good.”
After a moment, they clink their bottles together. Buck feels hollow.
—
So Eddie broke off their friends-with-benefits, affair, thing. And they are good, even though Buck doesn’t think he can get in Eddie’s truck without a montage of every time he gave the man road head, but their friendship, their work relationship, doesn’t really change. They don’t hang out as much as they used to, and when they do, Chris is there as a buffer. It’s how it was before the summer ever started, except Buck knows how Eddie sounds in bed.
Sometimes, Buck wonders what Eddie would do if he just showed up and kissed him again. If Eddie would go with it, the way he did in the beginning, fuck Buck until he’s crying and begging, and hold him afterwards. Sometimes, Buck wonders what Eddie would do if Buck finally explained it to him, the ugly thing that’s been sitting in his chest for the past few years.
—
The hypothesis: Buck is just a cheater.
The experiment: Buck goes to a gay bar out in WeHo looking to pick up. He’s hot, the guys at the bar are hot, and it’s not hard to find someone interested. Buck knows how to flirt, so he does. He buys the guy – Nick – a drink, trails his fingers up Nick’s arms, asks enough questions to seem interested. Buck 1.0 makes his grand reappearance.
They make it to Nick’s apartment, and Buck lets Nick call bottom. He stretches Nick open, fucks him hard until they’re both moaning in the empty apartment. Someone bangs on the wall but Buck doesn’t fucking care. He jacks Nick off until he comes, which sets Buck off, and he’s tying off the condom before Nick catches his breath.
“Jesus, Evan,” Nick says, because Buck couldn’t stand introducing himself as Buck. “You sure you don’t want to stick around for round two?”
If it were Buck 1.0, he’d have no complaints. But this Buck, the one that’s nearly died no less than three times, already feels the endorphin rush wearing off. He’s not sated. His skin is crawling, in a way it never did with Eddie. Buck thinks he’s the worst person in the world, and this is the poof.
“Can’t,” he says, with a smile that feels like plastic. “Thanks, though.”
He sees himself out, and walks all the way back to the bar and his Jeep shivering in the summer night.
—
When the break-up happens, it’s been the writing on the wall for weeks. Buck’s just mad he didn’t do it first. But again, Buck’s never really the one doing the breaking up – he’s just the one getting left behind.
It’s at Tommy’s, which he appreciates, because Buck’s had two break-ups in his own loft and one in his hospital room, so being able to leave is a new thing.
They have dinner, but Tommy’s quiet in a way he rarely is. And afterwards, Buck knows better than to try to kiss him. Tommy doesn’t bother with drinks. He just looks at Buck across the table and says, “This isn’t going anywhere.”
“What do you mean?” Buck asks.
“I mean,” Tommy says, tracing a circe on the surface of the table, “that this relationship has run its course, Evan. Congrats, you had your first gay relationship with a man.” His voice dips into something sardonic, like he’s making a joke at Buck’s expense. “You don’t have to keep pretending.”
“I’m not pretending,” Buck says.
Tommy looks at him. He sighs, drums his fingers on the table. “Evan, I’d have to be blind to not see it. You’re clearly in love with Eddie, but I was the easier option at the time. So I’m freeing you up. You’re free to date him, or whatever it is you want to do.”
The sting of that, of Tommy’s nonchalance, makes Buck bristle. You’re clearly in love with Eddie. Buck’s heart is a bleeding, wounded thing, and Tommy’s just jabbing another hole in it. Like a cornered animal, Buck bites back.
“I was sleeping with Eddie,” Buck says, “for most of the summer.”
He wants Tommy to react. He wants to know that there was something here, that Buck wasn’t just pretending. Buck had liked Tommy, but maybe Tommy didn’t like Buck all that much. And he realizes – he wants it to hurt. Buck wants to hurt Tommy, for no reason other than knowing he cared. Absurdly, he thinks of all the jumper calls they attend where the husband is threatening to kill himself if his wife won’t tell the truth. Throwing himself off twenty stories, throwing himself on the knife, just to know someone’s going to be hurt by it.
“I’m not stupid, Evan.” Tommy laughs. Something in Buck withers and dies for the last time. “You and Eddie… Whatever you two have, it’s way above my paygrade. And it’s not like we’re married. We never even talked about being exclusive, Jesus Christ.”
No one ever gets hurt except the idiot with the knife.
“You knew?” Buck asks.
“I mean, not for certain,” Tommy says. He still looks unbothered. Like this is a run-of-the-mill conversation for him. “I just… It didn’t matter, okay? What you were doing with Eddie, if you were doing anything. You went on dates with me. But this isn’t working it. And it’s not the ‘sleeping with Eddie’ or whatever.”
Buck braces himself for it. He’s been hearing it his entire life.
“We just want different things,” Tommy finishes.
Buck nods, his head feeling like it might fall off his neck. “I’ll just, uh, head out, then.”
“Sorry, Evan,” Tommy says. Maybe Buck’s being unkind, but Tommy doesn’t look sorry. Maybe Buck’s expecting too much; he did admit to cheating on Tommy. Even though they weren’t exclusive. “I hope you get what you’re looking for.”
What Buck is looking for has already passed him by. Buck ruined that, the way he ruined this relationship, by wanting too much, by being too much. Just another failed relationship under his belt, more proof that Buck isn’t meant to get what he wants.
He doesn’t have anything to say to that. Buck leaves, bleeding heart in tow.
—
Buck ends up at Eddie’s. He was always going to end up here, he knows. Eddie was his best friend first, and Buck could use his best friend.
He lets himself into the house, because it’s late and at worse he’ll just crash on their couch. Eddie’s gotten used to him doing that, he knows. Eddie’s couch is second to his bed, would probably be higher if not for the fact that it’s a couch. When the door swings open, he’s surprised to see Eddie on the other side, catching the door in his hand.
“Hey,” Eddie says, startled. “I thought that was you.”
“Surprise,” Buck says weakly.
There must be something on his face, or maybe it’s the twin link that Chimney says they have, but Eddie reaches out to grab his shoulder. Buck melts into it, stumbles forward, and then Eddie is cursing as he envelops Buck in a hug. He’s not crying, doesn’t think he has the ability to, aching and hollow as he is.
“Buck, what’s wrong?” Eddie asks. He ducks his head down, trying to look Buck in the eyes. “Are you okay? Are you injured anywhere?”
“No, no,” he says weakly, doing his best to avoid Eddie’s gaze. “I just… Tommy broke up with me.”
“Oh.” Eddie tenses, his grip on Buck’s arms loosening.
“It wasn’t the cheating,” Buck tacks on. “He didn’t know, or he guessed, whatever, but he didn’t care. It’s me. I’m the problem.”
“Aw, Buck,” Eddie says, and then he’s actually hugging Buck.
It feels like he’s being squeezed back into his body, with Eddie’s arms like iron bands around him. Buck doesn’t want to feel it, though. He doesn’t want to feel the pain, the hurt, just wants to crawl out of his mind and his skin. He came out here for Eddie, because Eddie was going to hug him just like this, but all that’s left Buck with is the desire.
And then Eddie says, “What can I do?” like there’s going to be a different answer.
“Eddie,” he starts, and doesn’t have to say anything else.
Eddie kisses him, gently at first, but Buck doesn’t want gentle. He wants to feel. He wants Eddie’s anger – because he has to be angry, because Buck is trampling on this boundary again, because Buck is asking for too much and Eddie can’t give it to him – and wants Eddie to break him into pieces. Buck bites Eddie’s lips, runs his hands up Eddie’s shirt, and it’s like a switch has flipped in Eddie.
He makes a low noise into Buck’s mouth and then they’re moving, stumbling across the house. Buck spares a thought to Christopher, but he knows Eddie wouldn’t be doing this if his kid was home. They get to the bedroom and Buck is unceremoniously dumped on the bed as Eddie strips out of his shirt. Buck is quick to follow, fingers fumbling on the buttons but Eddie just knocks his hands out of the way.
Eddie gets him out of his shirt, helps tugs his jeans off, and then he’s climbing into Buck’s lap. He’s missed this, feeling Eddie on top of him, grinding his ass into Buck’s erection. He hasn’t gotten to fuck Eddie all that much – and most of the times, Eddie just rode him, using him like a toy. Buck wants that tonight. He wants to be driven out of his head and somehow, Eddie understands that.
“What do you want, Buck?” Eddie whispers into the space between them. His has one hand on Buck’s shoulder, grip sliding so he’s cupping the base of Buck’s neck, the other tangled in his hair. “What do you need?”
Buck’s pulse jumps, like a rabbit spotting a predator. “Everything,” he croaks out. Blackhole, supernova, exploding. “I don’t – I don’t want to think about him.”
It’s not the first time he’s said something similar, but it’s different now. Before, Buck knew it got Eddie worked up, the reminder that Buck had a boyfriend and still ended up under him. Now, though, Buck’s nursing a wound and doesn’t quite know how to heal it. It’s easier slipping into routine.
“I got you, I got you,” Eddie murmurs. His fingers dig into his neck, a slight pinch. “When I’m done with you, you’re never going to think of him again.”
Buck holds onto that like a promise.
Eddie kisses him again, drags his mouth down Buck’s jawline and starts biting at his neck. Buck’s hips jerk at the thought of Eddie leaving marks – because he can now. Eddie digs his teeth into his neck, hard enough Buck hopes he’s drawing blood. He drags his fingers down Buck’s back and he can imagine the raised lines that’ll linger through the night.
Eddie spends forever in his lap, sucking bruises onto his neck and chest, dragging his nails over Buck’s skin and watching the red lines well up. Buck’s painfully hard in his boxers, can see Eddie is just the same, but he ignores it. Eddie pushes Buck back, still sitting on his lap, as Buck’s chest heaves as he stares up at him. There’s a considering look in Eddie’s eyes, once he recognizes from when there’s a problem he wants to solve. Buck’s had it on him a couple times before, but never like this.
After a long moment, Eddie slips off his lap. “Turn over,” he says, guiding Buck with hands on his hips. Buck goes, and lets Eddie drag him until he’s on his knees, ass in the air. Eddie’s hands are at his waistband, tugging down his boxers but only down to his thighs. Buck’s cock hangs heavy between his thighs, already leaking.
He’s on edge like this, unable to see what Eddie’s doing. It thrills him at the same time. Buck doesn’t want to have to anticipate Eddie. It’s easy to sink into the sheets, into the feeling, if he lets Eddie do whatever he wants.
A cold hand lands on one cheek, lighting patting it. Buck relaxes – only to cry out as Eddie slaps his other cheek. His heart hammers in his chest as the pain registers, but before he can get used to it, Eddie rapidfire hits him one, two, three more times.
“Fuck!” Buck breathes out, sucking in air that does nothing to settle him.
“That was for showing up without asking,” Eddie says. It’s a reprimand, but it doesn’t land on Buck like it might’ve from anyone else. Eddie already punished him for it; it’s passed. “Did you tell him about us?”
“Y-Yes,” Buck says. He waits – Eddie doesn’t spank him for it.
“Good boy,” Eddie says instead. “Did you tell him that he couldn’t measure up? That he couldn’t fuck you as well as I do.”
Buck shakes his head. “I didn’t,” he says, and moans when Eddie slaps him again. “You do! You do!”
There’s that satisfied quality in Eddie’s voice as he says, “Good. You wanna be good, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Buck says, nodding into the sheets.
Eddie’s hands smooth over his ass, moving up his back and back down. Every moment of his skin sends fire up Buck’s spine, his stomach coiling tighter and tighter. Eddie hasn’t even touched his dick, and Buck thinks he’ll shoot a load the second he does. Eddie hums, a considering noise, before his hands are on Buck’s hips, nudging him to roll onto his back.
Eddie already looks glorious, his face flushed and eyes dark as he looms over Buck. He’s got one hand around the base of his cock, and Buck wants to get it in his mouth.
“I was going to fuck you,” Eddie says, climbing onto the bed, “but I think that’s too much of a reward.” He’s straddling Buck’s chest. “I’d rather put your big mouth to use.”
For a moment, Buck thinks Eddie’s going to feed him his cock, but instead he moves further up the bed, traps Buck’s arms under his shins, and hovers over his face. Buck doesn’t hesitate, sticking out his tongue and pressing it against Eddie’s hole. His nose is pressed against him, just the smell of Eddie’s musk and sweat, burying all his sense. Eddie bears down on Buck’s tongue, his mouth, blissful sighs falling out of him as Buck’s face gets sloppy and wet.
His jaw gets sore, and Eddie has to keep readjusting to let Buck breathe, but the smell of Eddie, the taste of him, he’s all Buck can hear and feel, and Buck falls into it. When Eddie’s lifting himself off of Buck’s face, he tries to chase after.
“Settle,” Eddie says, pressing Buck’s head back against the sheets. “Patience, Buck.”
He can be patient. He can be good. He watches as Eddie shifts back on the bed, reaching over to grab the lube from his nightstand. Anticipation surges through him at the click of the cap, as Eddie gets his own hands nice and wet.
“I’d let you open me up,” he says, shifting to slide one finger inside himself, “but I want you to keep your hands where you are.”
Buck’s hands, still thrown above his head from where Eddie pinned them, stay where they are. He nods, and Eddie smiles at him. Says, “Good boy,” and groans as he stretches himself. Eddie doesn’t spend much time on fingering himself, properly straddles Buck and positions his cock against his hole. It’s the first touch to Buck’s dick in forever, and he sobs at the feeling.
“You’re gonna be good for me, right?” Eddie asks. “You’re not going to come until I let you, okay?”
Buck nods. He can be good. He can be so good. He moans as Eddie sinks onto him, a tight heat around his dick. Eddie pauses when he’s all the way down, adjusts the stretch, and then starts riding Buck in earnest. Buck just wants to touch, all of Eddie’s tan skin, the tattoos on his arms, feel the muscles in his thighs, tangle their fingers together. He can only watch as Eddie fucks himself with Buck’s cock, crying out as Eddie manages to find his own prostate, grinding down with quiet little sobs.
Buck just takes it. Everything in the world narrows down to Eddie. Buck thinks he looks beautiful like this.
He can tell Eddie’s reaching the edge when he starts jerking himself off, little grunts escaping him as he stops bouncing and just grinds down on Buck’s cock. It doesn’t take long until he’s gasping, cum spurting out of him and splattering up Buck’s chest, even hitting him in the chin. Eddie collapses forward, his hands on either side of Buck’s ribcage, his cock slipping but not entirely out.
“You wanna come?” Eddie asks, his voice hoarse and deep in the best of ways.
“Please,” Buck says. He wants to fuck up into the tight heat of Eddie’s ass again, his hips making little twitching motions. He’s trying so hard, okay? “I’ve been good, I’ve been good.”
“You are,” Eddie murmurs. He reaches back, makes sure Buck’s cock is settled into him as he sinks down. “Okay, Buck, you can come.”
It doesn’t take long. Buck plants his feet, fucks up into Eddie four times before his orgasm hits him. It’s white light behind his eyes, his body going boneless on the bed. He fills his cum dripping out of Eddie, a mess between their bodies. Buck doesn’t care. He’ll clean it up with his mouth if Eddie asked him to.
Eddie leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth before slipping off him. He can see the way Eddie’s legs are trembling with overexertion as he stumbles into the ensuite. Buck stays there, on the bed, until Eddie comes back with a damp washcloth. It’s unbearably gentle as he wipes Buck off. Eddie tosses it back into the bedroom and then climbs onto the bed.
“You can move your arms now, dumbass,” Eddie says, but it’s fond.
“Oh.” Buck finally moves them, shakes out the numbness, as he rolls over to face Eddie.
Eddie’s eyes are bright in the dimly lit bedroom, his face still flushed, his mouth red from biting his lip. Buck loves him, he realizes.
“You should probably head out soon,” Eddie says into the space between them.
The barest glimmer of hope in Buck’s chest shatters.
“Yeah, of course,” Buck says. He rolls back onto his back. “Sorry for, uhm, just showing up.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. That makes it worse, as Buck pulls his clothes back on. He just watches from the bed, his eyes like a brand on the back of Buck’s neck, until he’s outside and locking up behind him.
Two for two on ruining his relationships today. Great going, Buckley.
—
Buck can’t talk to anyone about this. He spent so long convincing them that Buck 1.0 was gone, that he wanted to settle down, that he can make a relationship work. Telling Hen would give him that pitying look, an aw, Buck, and ruin how much work he’s done to be worth her friendship. He can’t tell Chim, and he can’t tell Maddie because then she’d tell Chim. He definitely doesn’t want to talk to Bobby about it.
What Buck wants to do is talk to his best friend. But his best friend is part of the problem, and kinda broke Buck’s heart, so that’s also out of the question.
He sits on it. Buck’s good at that, at keeping everything bottled up inside. Summer bleeds into fall, Bobby gets reinstated, and the 118 returns to some sense of normalcy. Buck hangs out with Chris and Eddie, never just Eddie, and convinces himself he’s okay with his lot in life.
—
And then he goes and gets himself buried under a roof.
—
He lives, another one of his nine lives used up. He wakes up to Maddie on one side of his bed, Bobby on the other, and Eddie standing in the doorway. His eyes widen when he sees Buck blinking blearily.
“Buck,” he says, stepping forward, which alerts both Maddie and Bobby.
It’s a flurry of activity, from nurses, his doctor, all his visitors. Buck somehow got stuck in a pocket of air space under the rubble, and the worst he’s got is a concussion and some bruised ribs. He’s off work for a few weeks, but that’s part of the routine too. All the while, Eddie lingers at the edges of the conversations until he disappears.
—
It takes four weeks for Buck to be cleared for light duty, but Bobby keeps him off the rosters for an extra week anyways. It doesn’t sting, not the way it would’ve years ago. During those four weeks, Buck is visited by everyone from the 118 and their families, manages to distract himself via learning how to play Fortnite with Chris. He’s visited by Eddie with Chris, but Chris is always the buffer – it’s never Eddie alone.
Buck gives it a day before his temper boils over. His messages with Eddie have been perfunctory: yes, I’m awake; yes, you and Chris can come over; no, I don’t need anything. They’re few and far between. And Buck misses his best friend.
It’s a school day when he drives himself to the Diaz home. Eddie should be off a shift that ended this morning, might be sleeping it off still, but Buck can’t bring himself to sit around his apartment any longer. He parks behind Eddie’s truck, doesn’t give himself a moment to back out, before letting himself into the house.
He finds Eddie in the living room, folding laundry as a telenovela plays on the screen. His eyes are wide as he takes Buck in. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I missed you,” Buck says, maybe hoping to soften the blow. “And we should talk.”
Eddie’s face shutters. “I don’t really think –”
“Yes, we do,” Buck barrels over him, “because I’m kinda sick of my best friend ignoring me. You think I wouldn’t notice? God, if you regret it that much just tell me, okay? I’ll back off. I’ll tell Bobby to switch my shifts, just, whatever it takes.”
Stiffly, Eddie says, “I don’t regret it.”
“Trying harder,” Buck says with a humorless laugh. “Maybe try looking me in the eyes when you say it.”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. Buck waits a long moment for something else, anything, to convince him to stay. He deflates as the seconds tick by, shifting on his feet to tear out of the house, when Eddie finally speaks up.
“You cheated on your boyfriend with me. Because of me,” Eddie says. He’s still not looking at Buck, entirely enthralled by the laundry he’s supposed to be folding. “And it kept happening, and I liked it, okay? I liked knowing that you were going to come to me, that I would get to fuck you, because Tommy couldn’t give you what you needed.”
Buck stares at him, knowing his mouth is open – you’re going to catch flies, Evan – but he can’t string together a coherent sentence. Eddie doesn’t need him to, spurred on by his silence anyways.
“And then I fooled myself into that that I could give that to you.” A harsh, angry laugh. “That I could actually be worth something to someone. That I could ever have a relationship I don’t ruin.”
“You are worth something,” Buck says, finally gathering his wits.
“Thanks, Buck.” Dry, sardonic. “Don’t fucking coddle me, man. I know you only did it to make me feel better. Fuck-up Eddie, his kid hates him, making his best friend cheat on his boyfriend just to feel something.”
Buck rolls his eyes. “You didn’t make me cheat on Tommy,” he says. “I know you have a big fucking head, Eddie, but it takes two to tango.”
“If it were anyone else but me, would you?” Eddie shoots back. When Buck hesitates he laughs, pressing his hands to his face. “Yeah, thought so.”
“I did,” Buck says. “Before the break up, when we weren’t doing anything anymore. I picked up this guy in WeHo, fucked him, and it didn’t feel good. I wasn’t thinking about how I was cheating on Tommy. It felt like – It felt like I was cheating on you.
“And maybe that makes me a terrible person, but I don’t care. I thought that it was the affair that was making you into it. Into me. And if I couldn’t have you as a partner, dates and nights in or whatever, then I was at least going to let myself have what I could get.”
Now Eddie’s the one with a stupid look on his face. His laundry is totally forgotten at this point.
“You can have me,” Buck continues, feeling like he’s breaking open his chest and showing his bleeding heart. “Any way you want. I’m so fucking easy, Eddie.”
“I don’t want just sex,” Eddie says. He rounds the couch, crossing the distance between the living room and the kitchen. “And I’m a fucking asshole, and we’re probably going to have terrible arguments, and I’m definitely going to ruin this again. But I want it all. God, Buck, I want so much.”
“Good,” Buck manages as Eddie reaches out for him. “We’ll match.”
Eddie kisses him, like he has a hundred times before, but his time is different. Buck kisses him and he doesn’t have to think about Tommy, about the secrets and the guilt. He can have this. He can have Eddie, every single part of him, the way he’s always wanted. Buck walks them forward until they bump against the couch, fumbling around until Eddie manages to sit on it, bringing Buck with him.
The first time they did this on the couch, Buck was buzzing with nerves and guilt. This time, Buck’s still buzzing, but it’s nothing but excitement. He climbs onto Eddie’s lap, bites a bruise into his throat, wants to figure out a way to stick them together forever because Buck is never letting go.
No matter how many times they’ve done this, neither of them slow it down. Buck is still insatiable; Eddie is still greedy. Buck doesn’t think he’ll ever get his fill of Eddie. He gets dumped on his back, Eddie laying on top of him, their cocks rubbing together through their pants. Laundry is dumped unceremoniously onto the floor.
Eddie’s teeth dig into Buck’s neck, his hands fumbling at their waistbands to pull their cocks out. Buck drags Eddie’s shirt up to his shoulders, feeling the flex of his shoulderblades, the notches on his spine, warm skin under his hands. Eddie gets a hand around both of them and Buck sees stars in his eyes, a loud groan spilling out of him.
It’s frantic, every touch of their fevered skin together like a fire. Buck shudders underneath Eddie as he litters bruises across his neck and collarbones, as he ruts their cocks together, just the sound of their heavy breathing and skin slapping filling the room.
Buck comes first, spurting over Eddie’s hand, and he follows not long after. He collapses on top of Buck, his nose tucked into Buck’s neck. It’s a comfortable weight. Buck would wait as long as Eddie needs, right here underneath him, even until the heat death of the universe. After awhile, Eddie adjusts, still laying on top of Buck but not in danger of rebruising his ribs.
In a quiet voice, Buck asks, “Can I stay?”
Eddie blindly reaches out, somehow finds one of Buck’s hands tot angle their fingers together. “Yeah, Buck. You can stay.”
—
Later, someone asks how they got together, and Eddie will tell them it’s because Buck almost got himself killed, again, and Eddie realized tomorrow wasn’t always promised. When Chimney hears that, he loudly boos and throws the closest thing on hand – a package of gauze – at Eddie. Buck had almost said the actual truth until Eddie talked over him, and Buck thought his version was a hell of a lot more romantic anyways.
The actual reason is a moot point. Now that Buck has Eddie in the way he’s always wanted, he doesn’t have eyes for anyone else. The thrill of that is gone. Buck would be afraid of getting vanilla in his old age, but it turns out therapy is great for unpacking Eddie’s decades of repression and reviving his libido.
Buck’s pretty fucking satisfied, these days.