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Eddie was having a normal afternoon.
This was important to establish.
Buck’s kitchen smelled like sugar and vanilla and something warm that Eddie had been told was not ready yet, even though it had come out of the oven twenty minutes ago and was sitting on the counter looking ready in every way that mattered.
Christopher was outside with Theo and Jee, all three of them supervised through the wide-open back door by the general threat of Maddie’s voice from the patio. Chimney had taken Nash on a walk around the block because “the baby needs air,” which Eddie understood to mean Chimney needed five minutes where no one asked him to admire a rock.
Buck had flour on his shirt, a smear of frosting on his wrist, and his hair doing the thing it did when he forgot he had hands and kept pushing it back with the back of his arm.
Eddie was sitting at the island, stealing bits of sliced strawberry from a bowl Buck had placed very deliberately out of his reach.
So, normal.
“Stop eating the filling,” Buck said without looking up.
“I’m testing it.”
“You’ve tested it eight times.”
“I’m thorough.”
Buck gave him a look. Eddie gave him one back. It worked because Eddie was seated and therefore could put more effort into it.
Buck was making a birthday cake for no birthday Eddie knew about. When Eddie had asked, Buck had said, “Practice,” like that was an answer.
Buck baked because he was stressed. Buck baked because he was happy. Buck baked because he liked it. Buck baked because Theo had given him an audience with very low standards and a lot of enthusiasm.
The cake had three layers. Eddie knew this because Buck had explained it to him in detail while Eddie nodded and waited for the part where he finally got to eat it.
Buck smoothed frosting over the cake. Eddie watched, chin in his hand.
“Don’t,” Buck said.
Eddie pulled his hand back from the bowl.
“I didn’t touch it.”
“You were going to.”
“You don’t know that.”
Buck glanced at him.
Eddie picked up another strawberry slice.
Buck pointed the spatula at him. “Eddie.”
Eddie froze with the strawberry halfway to his mouth.
Buck’s eyes narrowed.
Eddie ate it.
“Unbelievable,” Buck said, but he was smiling.
Eddie picked up another strawberry slice. There was a smear of frosting on the rim of the bowl, close enough that his thumb caught it when he reached past.
He ate the strawberry.
Then he noticed the frosting on his thumb. Buck noticed too.
Buck said, “You’ve got—”
“I know.”
Eddie lifted his hand automatically, meaning to handle it himself. Probably. He was nearly sure that had been the plan.
Buck reached across the island, caught Eddie’s wrist, and brought his hand closer.
It was casual. Easy. Buck had done things like this a thousand times. Straightened Eddie’s collar. Picked lint off his shoulder. Pressed two fingers under Eddie’s jaw to check his pulse after a bad call, even though Eddie had been awake and speaking at the time. Buck had very loose ideas about personal space.
This was normal.
Buck leaned in and sucked the frosting off Eddie’s thumb.
Eddie’s brain took one clean step out of his body and shut the door behind itself.
Buck’s mouth was warm.
That was the first problem.
The second problem was that Buck did not just swipe his tongue over Eddie’s thumb like a normal person cleaning up a baking accident. No. He closed his lips around it, soft and absent, like he wasn’t thinking about it at all. Like this was just the natural next step after frosting happened to exist on Eddie’s hand.
Eddie sat very still.
This was good because if he moved, he might discover something about himself that would be inconvenient at three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon in Buck’s kitchen while children were outside arguing about a bubble wand.
Buck let go.
“There,” he said, already turning back toward the cake.
Eddie stared at his own thumb.
It was clean.
Great.
Wonderful.
A service had been provided.
“Thanks,” Eddie said.
His voice sounded normal. That was a relief. He had expected it to come out like a car trying to start.
Buck let go of his thumb and went back to the cake.
Just like that.
Eddie looked at him.
Buck was smoothing frosting over the top layer again, focused and calm and unfairly normal for a man who had just put Eddie’s thumb in his mouth.
Eddie reached for another strawberry.
Missed the bowl.
Buck’s hand paused.
Eddie picked up the strawberry he had actually meant to grab and ate it like that had been the plan.
Buck went back to frosting the cake.
Eddie watched him.
Outside, Jee shrieked with laughter. Theo shouted, “No, Chris! Mine!”
Christopher answered, too low for Eddie to hear. Whatever he said made Theo yell, “That’s not true,” which meant it had probably been funny.
Buck’s kitchen stayed warm and bright and ordinary.
Buck cleared his throat. “Anyway.”
“Anyway,” Eddie agreed.
Buck picked up the spatula again. He spread frosting over the top layer of the cake with intense concentration.
Eddie watched.
The cake, mostly.
Buck’s hands were right there, spreading frosting in slow strokes, and his mouth was only in Eddie’s line of sight because Buck kept leaning in to check the edges.
That was all.
Eddie had a sweet tooth.
This was a known fact. An innocent one. A family-friendly characteristic. He liked cake. He liked frosting. He liked sugar enough that Pepa still bought him pastries when he looked tired, even though he was a grown man with a job and a mortgage.
So when Eddie said, “You missed some,” it was not flirting.
It was information.
Buck glanced down. “Where?”
Eddie pointed. “There.”
Buck lifted his hand and twisted it, trying to see. “Here?”
“No. Other side.”
Buck turned his hand the wrong way.
Eddie sighed. “How have you survived this long?”
“Charm.”
“Debatable.”
“Effective, though.”
Eddie hated that Buck was right.
Buck held out his hand without thinking. Palm down, wrist loose, like Eddie was going to inspect it for injury. Eddie looked at it. Then at Buck.
Buck lifted his eyebrows. “What?”
There were several options available to Eddie.
He could hand Buck a towel.
He could point more clearly.
He could say, “Use your eyes,” and go back to stealing strawberries like a person who had not just had his thumb in Buck’s mouth.
Instead, Eddie caught Buck’s wrist.
Buck went quiet.
That was the thing Eddie noticed.
Buck was almost never quiet by accident. He filled space. Not always with words, sometimes with movement, humming, tapping a spoon against a bowl, narrating Theo’s complicated relationships with stuffed animals. Buck existed out loud.
But when Eddie wrapped his fingers around Buck’s wrist, Buck stopped.
Eddie told himself this was because Buck was waiting.
That was reasonable.
Buck was waiting for him to wipe off the frosting.
Eddie did not wipe off the frosting.
He bent his head and touched his mouth to the heel of Buck’s hand.
It was one second.
Maybe two.
Enough to taste sugar. Enough to feel Buck’s pulse jump under Eddie’s fingers. Enough for Eddie to understand, very suddenly, that he had done that on purpose.
He lifted his head.
Buck was staring at him.
Eddie smiled before he could stop himself.
“There,” he said.
Buck blinked.
Eddie should have been embarrassed. He expected embarrassment to arrive any second, sharp and hot and useful. It did not. What he felt instead was a stupid, pleased warmth in his chest. Like he had gotten away with something.
Buck looked down at his hand. Then back at Eddie.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Eddie still had Buck’s wrist in his hand. Buck didn’t pull away.
That was probably nothing.
Buck’s eyes dropped to Eddie’s mouth, then to the frosting bowl, then back to Eddie.
Eddie’s heart gave one hard kick.
This was still normal, Eddie decided.
Normal had a wide range. Normal included Buck licking frosting off his thumb. Normal included Eddie returning the favor. Normal included the two of them standing in a kitchen with children in the yard and a cake between them and Buck’s hand still held in Eddie’s grip because neither of them had remembered to let go.
Normal was flexible.
Normal was doing a lot of work.
Outside, Maddie called, “Theo, gentle hands!”
Theo yelled, “They are gentle!”
Jee yelled, “They’re sticky!”
Eddie should have laughed.
He did not.
Instead, he let go of Buck’s wrist and reached for the spatula.
Buck’s eyes dropped to the movement, but he didn’t stop him.
Eddie dragged the smallest smear of frosting over his own knuckle.
It was ridiculous. He knew it while he was doing it. He did it anyway.
Buck stared at Eddie’s hand.
Then at Eddie.
Eddie lifted his eyebrows. “What?”
Buck’s mouth opened, then shut.
That should have been enough to make Eddie stop. It was one thing to be stupid by accident. It was another thing to look Buck in the eye and keep going.
“You missed some,” Eddie said.
Buck let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Did I?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
Eddie held up his hand.
Buck looked at the frosting on Eddie’s knuckle.
His eyes stayed there a second longer than they needed to.
Then he stepped closer, his hip almost brushing Eddie’s knee.
“Here?” Buck asked.
His voice had gone softer.
Eddie nodded once.
Buck caught Eddie’s wrist again.
This time, Eddie noticed the way Buck held him. Thumb against his pulse. Fingers loose, like Eddie could pull away if he wanted to.
He did not want to.
Buck bent his head and put his mouth to Eddie’s knuckle.
Eddie forgot to be normal about it.
Buck’s lips touched his skin first. Then his tongue, warm and careful, dragging over the frosting like this was still about cleaning him up. Like either of them believed that.
Eddie’s breath got stuck.
Buck stopped but his mouth was still close enough that Eddie could feel him breathe against his hand.
Eddie looked down at him.
Buck looked up.
That should have been the moment one of them laughed. Eddie could feel the shape of it sitting there, available and safe. A joke. A shove to Buck’s shoulder. Something about frosting.
Eddie did not take it.
Buck’s eyes dropped to the movement.
Eddie turned his hand over.
Palm up.
A small thing.
A stupid thing.
Buck went still.
Eddie’s heart kicked again.
For a second, Eddie thought Buck might say something. He almost wanted him to. Words would make it easier to laugh this off.
Buck did not say anything.
“Too much?” Eddie asked, and hated how quiet it came out.
Buck shook his head.
Then he lowered his mouth to Eddie’s palm.
Eddie’s fingers twitched.
Buck stopped immediately, his breath warm against Eddie’s skin.
Eddie swallowed.
Buck lifted his head.
His mouth was still close to Eddie’s hand. He didn’t move away.
Eddie could have pulled his hand back then.
Maybe he should have.
He didn’t.
He looked at Buck.
Buck looked back.
Then Buck glanced toward the back door.
Eddie followed his gaze.
The kids were visible in flashes through the screen. Christopher was sitting on one of the patio chairs, crutches leaned beside him, acting too mature to be entertained and clearly entertained anyway. Theo was chasing bubbles with the seriousness of a firefighter entering a burning structure. Jee had both hands in a bucket Eddie hoped was water.
No one was looking inside.
Maddie was on the patio steps with her back partly turned, close enough to intervene and far enough away to pretend she was getting a moment’s peace. They were fine. Everyone was fine.
Eddie looked back at Buck.
Buck had not moved away.
“Cake’s going to melt,” Eddie said, because his mouth had been left unattended and had chosen cowardice.
Buck looked at the cake. “That’s not how cake works.”
“You’re the expert.”
““You’re the one with frosting on your hand.”
“You’re the one who put his mouth there.”
Buck’s eyes flicked back to him.
Buck’s smile broke wider, and there he was. Familiar again. Buck, bright and ridiculous, flour on his shirt, cheeks a little pink.
“I was helping,” Buck said.
“With your mouth.”
Buck’s eyes flicked to him.
Eddie reached for a strawberry he did not actually want.
“Good to know,” he said.
Buck didn’t answer.
He didn’t look away either.
Eddie still had his hand in Buck’s grip. Buck’s thumb rested against the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse, which felt unfair. Eddie was doing a decent job of pretending until Buck got actual evidence.
The kitchen stayed quiet around them.
Not really quiet. The kids were still outside. Maddie was still somewhere near the patio. There was still a cake on the counter and frosting on the spatula and sunlight on the floor.
But here, between them, everything had narrowed.
Eddie could still make it normal.
He could tug his hand back. He could say something about cake. He could pretend this was all part of Buck being Buck and Eddie having no sense of personal space around him, which was true enough to be useful.
But Buck looked nervous.
That did something to Eddie.
Buck had started this without knowing he was starting it. Now he knew. Now he was standing there with all that hope on his face, trying to look like he wasn’t hoping at all.
So Eddie met him halfway.
He turned his hand in Buck’s grip, slow enough that Buck could let go if he wanted to.
Buck didn’t.
Eddie stepped closer.
Buck’s eyes dropped to his mouth.
That was enough.
Eddie lifted his free hand to Buck’s cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his jaw, and Buck leaned into it before either of them could pretend he hadn’t.
For one second, Eddie just stood there, touching him.
Then Buck’s fingers curled tighter around Eddie’s wrist.
Eddie kissed him.
The kiss was soft at first.
Barely there.
Buck went still for half a second, and Eddie had one clean, terrible thought that maybe he had read this wrong.
Then Buck’s hand tightened around his wrist.
Eddie felt the answer before Buck gave it back.
Buck kissed him.
Not hard. Not yet. Just enough that Eddie’s grip found Buck’s shirt without him deciding to put it there.
Then they stopped.
Only because they had to breathe.
Buck was close now. Close enough that Eddie could see the frosting at the corner of his mouth. A tiny smear. Ridiculous. Of course it was there. Of course Buck had frosting on his mouth after all that.
Eddie almost laughed.
Buck looked at him like he might laugh too, or apologize, or say something that would make them both have to think.
Eddie didn’t give him the chance.
He lifted his thumb and wiped the frosting from the corner of Buck’s mouth.
Buck’s eyes dropped.
Eddie’s thumb stayed there a second too long.
Then Buck leaned in.
This time, Eddie was ready.
Their mouths met again, less careful this time.
Buck made a soft sound against him, surprised and relieved all at once, and Eddie felt it low in his stomach. He stepped in until Buck’s back touched the counter. Buck went with it, hand sliding from Eddie’s wrist to his forearm, then higher, like he was trying to figure out where he was allowed to hold on.
Eddie moved closer.
Buck’s fingers curled into Eddie’s shirt.
Eddie got a hand on Buck’s waist, and Buck made another small sound into his mouth.
That was better.
They broke apart by inches.
Buck’s hand stayed in Eddie’s shirt.
Eddie meant to say something. He had no idea what. Probably something smart. Probably something that would make this less huge.
Then he noticed the frosting still at the corner of Buck’s mouth.
Eddie huffed, almost laughing, and rubbed it away with his thumb.
Buck’s eyes dropped.
Eddie’s thumb stayed there.
Neither of them moved.
Then Buck’s lips parted against him.
Eddie’s breath caught.
Buck looked at him.
Eddie leaned in and kissed him again.
This was the least fine thing that had ever happened to him.
“Buck,” Eddie said.
He had no idea what came after it.
Buck’s hand came up and wrapped around Eddie’s wrist, gentle. Not pulling him away.
Holding him there.
“Yeah,” Buck said.
Eddie’s thumb slipped from his mouth to his chin.
That should have ended it.
Buck’s hand tightened in Eddie’s shirt.
Eddie looked at his mouth.
Then they were kissing again.
Their mouths met softly at first, almost careful. A brush. A pause. The kind of kiss that could have been an accident if both of them were very stupid and willing to lie with their whole bodies.
Buck’s hand tightened on Eddie’s wrist.
Eddie kissed him again.
That was the end of pretending.
Buck made a sound into his mouth, quiet and stunned, and Eddie felt it everywhere. He stepped closer, one hand finding Buck’s waist without needing instruction. Buck turned toward him, their bodies lining up in the small space between the island and the counter.
Eddie had kissed people before.
Obviously.
He was not sixteen. He had been married. He had dated. He had enough life experience to understand the basic mechanics of mouths.
None of that helped.
Because this was Buck.
Buck, who tasted like sugar. Buck, who kissed like he was trying not to scare Eddie off and failing because his hand had already slid up to the back of Eddie’s neck. Buck, who gave so much of himself away in every small movement that Eddie wondered how he had ever mistaken this for anything but exactly what it was.
Eddie kissed him harder.
Buck responded immediately, like he had been waiting on permission and Eddie had finally signed the paperwork. His fingers pushed into Eddie’s hair. Buck made a sound into his mouth, soft and surprised, and Eddie’s hand found Buck’s waist before he had time to think about it.
The cake sat abandoned on the counter.
The frosting bowl was somewhere near Eddie’s elbow.
The children were still outside.
Buck backed up half a step, bumping into the counter, and Eddie followed without thinking. Buck laughed against his mouth, breathless and surprised. Eddie smiled into the kiss because that sound was familiar. It made this feel less like falling off a cliff and more like walking through a door they had both been standing in front of for years.
Buck’s other hand found Eddie’s shirt and held on.
Eddie kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then back to his mouth because Buck made another small sound and Eddie decided very quickly that he liked that.
A lot.
Too much.
A dangerous amount.
“Eddie,” Buck murmured.
There was something in his voice that made Eddie pull back enough to see Buck’s face.
Buck looked wrecked in the mildest possible way. Pink-cheeked. Eyes bright. Mouth damp. Flour on his shoulder. Frosting still somehow on his wrist because apparently neither of them had finished the original task.
Eddie stared at him.
Oh, he thought.
Buck blinked, and suddenly Eddie could hear the kids outside again.
Eddie felt it too. The sudden return of the kitchen. The patio. The kids. Maddie outside. The cake. The fact that he was standing in Buck’s house with his hand on Buck’s waist after licking frosting off him and then making out with him like it was a reasonable extension of helping with dessert.
Buck’s grip loosened slightly.
“Sorry,” Buck said, barely loud enough to hear.
Eddie frowned.
That was not happening.
He was not letting Buck apologize for something Eddie had walked into with his eyes open and his mouth apparently very involved.
Eddie looked at Buck’s mouth again.
Then at his eyes.
He let out a short breath, almost a laugh.
“No.”
Buck’s face shifted. Hope again. Careful and open.
Eddie leaned back in.
This kiss was different only because Eddie knew what he was doing now.
He knew when he slid his hand more firmly around Buck’s waist.
He knew when Buck’s fingers tightened in his hair.
He knew when he angled his head and Buck opened for him with a soft, broken little sound that made Eddie’s knees feel untrustworthy.
He knew.
And maybe he would think about that later.
Maybe later there would be talking. Probably there would have to be talking, because Buck liked words and Eddie liked avoiding them until they cornered him in a kitchen.
Maybe later Christopher would look at him with teenage exhaustion and say, “Seriously?” like Eddie had personally offended him by taking this long.
Maybe Theo would ask if Eddie was Buck’s kissing friend now, and Eddie would think about making a joke. He would think about leaving the room.
Then he would kiss Buck on the cheek, soft enough for only Buck to feel it, and say, “Yeah. Something like that.”
Maybe Maddie had already seen through the screen door and was currently deciding whether she loved Buck enough to mind her business.
All of that was later.
Right now Buck was smiling against his mouth, and Eddie had frosting on his thumb again, and for once in his life, he decided not to make the responsible choice.
He kissed Buck until Buck forgot to worry.
Then he kissed him once more, just because he could.