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“So,” Buck says, head spinning. He’s really feeling the alcohol now. They definitely should have eaten something before drinking. “No women.”
Eddie fumbles as he sets the bottle down on his bedside table. “No women.”
“What about men?” Buck blurts, which is—crazy, because again: neither of them are gay.
They’re just two straight guys. Two straight guys in Eddie’s bed, tipsy, and—and Eddie doesn’t want to sleep with women. Which means nothing.
Beside him, Eddie goes preternaturally still. “I would know, if I—you know.”
“Okay.” Buck’s hands twitch at his sides. “I—yeah. Me too.”
Then, very seriously, Eddie turns to look at him. “If I were gay, you would be my first call.”
Warmth blooms in Buck’s chest. Eddie’s so nice to him. “Dude,” he says, touched. “You’d be my first call too.”
Or: a story set in season 2 featuring tequila, Just The Tip, and, finally, a kiss.
Series
- Part 14 of cjo + 911
Bookmarked by Fandom_Pain
26 Mar 2026
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Eddie wakes first.
It takes a second for him to register where he is. He’s being dragged slowly into consciousness, his whole body relaxed and sleep-warm. That’s— okay, that’s inaccurate, he feels hot. His cheeks feel flushed, skin prickling, like his body is overheating.
At first, he blames it on the close proximity. There’s a body close, pressed against him, an arm slung over his waist. Eddie runs hot during the night, and the body pressed against him also feels flushed with warmth.
But then he feels it—
The unmistakable, clingy stickiness.
The front of his briefs is soaked through. His thighs feel damp too, like it’s spread through the front of his sweatpants. It’s not just damp—it’s wet. It’s warm. It’s—
Holy fuck.
OR
Somnophilia + Eddie Diaz's extended gay breakdown
Bookmarked by Fandom_Pain
24 Mar 2026
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He stands up, because Eddie does not cower from knocks at — he checks his phone — 10:52 PM, even though every true crime podcast his abuela forwards him suggests this is exactly how people end up as a Dateline episode.
He looks through the peephole.
He blinks.
He looks again.
There is a man on his porch. Which, fine, he expected a man. What he did not expect is for the man to be — and Eddie needs a second here, because he’s processing several things simultaneously and doing a poor job with all of them — approximately six foot two, broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted, visibly muscular in a way that suggests either a dedicated gym routine or a genetic lottery win or both, and completely, entirely, spectacularly naked.
Except for the potted succulent he's holding in front of his crotch.
Eddie's succulent. From Eddie's porch. The one Chris named Potricia.
Or,
The odds of the universe dropping a naked man on your doorstep are low, but never zero.Bookmarked by Fandom_Pain
22 Mar 2026
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"Eddie?" Shannon picks up on the fourth ring. "Everything okay?"
"I kissed a man," he says.
The silence on the other end stretches for nine thousand years. Eddie can hear Shannon breathing. He can hear his own heartbeat slamming against his ribs. He stares at the apartment building through his windshield, at the lit window on the fourth floor that might belong to E. Buckley, and waits for his ex-wife to say literally anything at all.
"You what?"
"I kissed a man, Shannon. Just now. I was delivering food and he opened the door and I just— I kissed him. On the mouth. And I don't know why."
Another silence. Then a sound Eddie recognizes with dawning horror as Shannon trying very, very hard to suppress a laugh.
"Shannon."
"I'm processing."
"You're laughing."
"I'm processing." She fails spectacularly. "I'm sorry, I just— you kissed a man? Edmundo Diaz? The same Edmundo Diaz who wouldn't watch Brokeback Mountain with me because it made him 'uncomfortable'?"
"It did make me uncomfortable!"
"Yeah, Eddie, I'm starting to understand why."
Or,
Being kissed by your Uber Eats delivery driver? Worse things have happened.Bookmarked by Fandom_Pain
22 Mar 2026
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“Buck,” Eddie said, and his voice came out low.
“Your angle’s off.” Buck’s tone had gone quieter too, not joking now. “Hold still.”
Eddie did.
Buck adjusted him by the smallest amount, fingers spreading briefly against Eddie’s side. Eddie’s entire body locked around the contact. The room seemed to narrow to the lamp over the table, Buck at his back, the green felt under Eddie’s knuckles.
“Now,” Buck murmured.
Eddie took the shot.
The eight ball dropped.
Buck’s hand remained where it was for one beat. Two.
Then he stepped back.
OR Buck gets sarcastic, Eddie gets horny about it, and things escalate on the pool table