On My Knees, I’m Home

by DamnSterek

Summary:

Eddie’s been in love with Buck for years—but he’s good at hiding things, burying feelings, and pretending everything’s fine. Until one night, he just... can’t anymore. He blurts out that he wants to scene with Buck, and to his surprise, Buck says yes. What starts as one scene quickly spirals into something deeper, something neither of them are quite ready to admit out loud. Cue: seven years of pining, mutual idiocy, soft dom!Buck, emotionally constipated!Eddie, a whole lot of feelings, some very intense aftercare, and eventually realizing that sometimes, love sounds a lot like “Color?” and “Green.”

Notes:

THIS HIATUS IS KILLING ME ALREADY!!!

should probably change my username to DamnBuddie

Chapter 1

Eddie used to think his worst enemy was Zoloft.

 

The pills had gutted his relationship with Marisol—stripped it of its rhythm, its spark. The nightmares were gone, sure, but so was everything else. Sex drive? Obliterated. Connection? Strained. He’d been left lying beside her, body still, mind humming, and nothing between them but silence and breath.

 

Six months ago, therapy had felt like surrender. Now it was routine. Frank was good. Annoyingly good. Eddie had come in skeptical, arms crossed and words clipped, but Bobby’s quiet patience and Buck’s relentless nudging had worn him down. Marisol had backed him, too. At first. Until the meds kicked in.

 

Or maybe that was just in his head. Maybe she had been supportive, even through the dry spell. She wasn't now. Not after Eddie called it quits, unable to fake closeness while feeling broken.

 

“Erectile dysfunction,” Frank had said like it was the weather. Common side effect. Anxiety meds. Even though Eddie didn’t panic. Not really. He just… dreamt about the war. Repeatedly. Woke up soaked in sweat with his fists clenched, his heart racing like it was still on patrol.

 

Frank called it PTSD. Severe, apparently. EMDR and Zoloft were the prescription. “You’ve been living like you’re still over there,” Frank had said. “It’s time to come home.”

 

They were working. The meds, the sessions. Until tonight. Because Zoloft wasn't his biggest enemy after all.

 

It was Buck.

 

Buck, in cowboy boots and too-tight jeans, a suede vest swinging open to reveal every inch of his ridiculous torso. The hat tilted low on his brow, a grin splitting his face, cheeks pink from laughter and cheap beer. Buck was dancing—hips loose, feet confident, like he had been born and raised in Texas instead of Eddie.

 

Eddie stared and stared, beer in hand, mouth dry.

 

The bar around them erupted as Chimney shouted something, laughter echoing off the walls. Buck took a slow spin, holding his hat like a pro, vest gaping. Hen cackled. Ravi whistled. Buck winked.

 

Eddie shifted in his seat, gritting his teeth. His jeans had become a prison. How was it possible that after so many failed attempts to get hard, to have sex with his gorgeous girlfriend, it was Buck dressed as a cowboy that did it for him? This was insane. Why couldn’t he just look away?

 

Their team hollered and clapped loudly, as Buck came back to join their table. He was still grinning bashfully, but the twinkle in his eye was anything but ashamed.

 

“Jesus, Buck,” Chim yelled. “Maybe I married the wrong Buckley.”

 

Laughter rippled around Eddie. He tried to blink away the image, but Buck’s body was burned into the backs of his eyelids. The line of his abs, the flush on his skin, the goddamn way he moved.

 

Jesus Christ.

 

“Maybe stop catching flies, Diaz,” Hen whispered, her voice soft but somehow louder than the music.

 

Eddie’s jaw snapped shut. He turned to glare at her, but her smirk was already smug and knowing.

 

He stood abruptly, jacket strategically positioned in front of his crotch. Four sets of eyes clocked his retreat instantly. No Cap tonight, thank God. He’d have called him out on it in a second.

 

Buck looked concerned. Of course he did. Eddie ignored him.

 

“Gotta go, guys” he muttered, backing toward the door. “It was fun.”

 

“But we’ve got seventy-two hours off!” Ravi protested.

 

Eddie shrugged. “Gotta get Chris from my Tía.”

 

“I thought he was staying over?” Buck asked, rising from his chair. His eyes were sharp now, even tipsy. “Ravi, shut up,” he added with a grin to something Eddie hadn’t caught. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Bye Eddie,” Chim slurred, laughing at another thing Eddie didn’t quiet catch.

 

Eddie turned on his heel, trying to breathe through the mess of heat and confusion knotting in his gut. Buck followed. Of course he did.

 

The sound of his boots was too loud. The night air was cold against Eddie’s skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool him down. To get soft again.

 

Maybe the Zoloft had finally worn off. Zoloft didn’t necessarily equal ED or a lower libido, it was something you build up. Besides, not everyone that took the drug had the same problems Eddie had.

 

And now, even tipsy and still on drugs, Sexy Cowboy Buck was what did it for him? Seriously?

 

Like, objectively, sure Buck was beautiful. But Eddie was straight.

 

Or maybe—

 

A hand landed on his shoulder. Eddie flinched.

 

“Easy, Eds.” Buck’s laugh was soft, warm.

 

Eddie turned, and there he was—his best friend, vest flapping slightly in the breeze, nipples hard, arms goosebumped. Beautiful. Unfairly beautiful. Eddie would pay good money to be allowed to run his tongue—

 

No.

 

Oh, no. God, what was wrong with him?

 

“You okay?” Buck asked, leaning down to catch Eddie’s eye.

 

“Fine,” Eddie said too quickly. His voice sounded too tight. “Just… Chris. Promised Tía Peppa I’d be on time.”

 

Lie. Huge lie. He was going to go home and lose his mind in the shower. Or in bed.

 

Buck was still staring at him, brow furrowed in that Buck way—like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t realize was too dangerous to touch. And that was Eddie’s clue to really leave. Buck could not figure out what was going on with Eddie.

 

“I could come with you?” he offered. “Just to—”

 

“No,” Eddie said, a little too sharp. He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. Get inside, you’ll catch a cold out here.” He willed the heat under his skin away and his heartbeat to slow down. He could finally feel his underwear get less uncomfortable.

 

Buck hesitated. “Yeah. Yeah, cool. I’ll… talk to you tomorrow?”

 

Eddie nodded. Watched him walk away. Swallowed hard. Then he turned, climbed into his truck, and drove off into the night—Buck still dancing in his head.

 

*

 

Eddie had been in a mood for weeks. Not that anyone said anything—Chim just offered his usual awkward grin and backed off, Hen raised her eyebrows once or twice but didn’t push, and Buck… Buck kept showing up like he always did. Which only made it worse.

 

He was mad at Buck. Mad at Marisol, for absolutely nothing realistic. Mad at Frank, for being right. But mostly, he was furious with himself.

 

The worst of it was how the only time he could take the edge off—alone, late at night, sheets tangled and breath tight in his chest—was when he let himself think of Buck. And once he started, it was impossible to stop.

 

It used to be a flicker. A thought quickly boxed up and shoved down. A shoulder touch here, a laugh that went too long there. Manageable. Now, it followed him everywhere—haunted him in daylight, hunted him at night.

 

“You can’t put all your feelings in a box, Eddie,” Frank had said in that patient, maddening way of his. “You might think that if you’re strong enough that it’ll hold, but at some point, that box is gonna blow up.”

 

And maybe Frank was right. Maybe Eddie had already cracked.

 

It felt like grief in slow motion. He’d done denial—years of it. Anger came naturally. Bargaining had happened somewhere between the Hail Marys and half-assed confessions. Depression? That was always hovering.

 

Now he was toeing the edge of something terrifying: acceptance.

 

It wasn’t just the feelings. It was what they meant. What they ruined. Because Buck didn’t look at him that way. Buck saw a brother. A best friend. A co-parent. A soldier at his side, not someone he’d want to kiss until the world dropped away. He fist-bumped him when Eddie wanted nothing more than to be yanked forward and kissed fiercely.

 

So, Eddie made a new rule for himself: fist bump first. Beat Buck to it. Do it fast, do it casual, do it before that split-second of hesitation gave anything away.

 

And then there was the time lost. Buck had spent his twenties learning himself inside out. No shame, no guilt. Figuring out what he wanted, what he liked. Eddie was already in his thirties and still pretending he had it all figured out—like he hadn’t built his entire identity around survival, around being the man of the house since he was old enough to cycle to school alone

 

Partners would expect him to have everything figured out. Hell, he knew how to please a woman. Could navigate that script like a pro. But when it came to desire that burned—that scared him—he was back at square one.

 

And beneath it all, a deeper grief pressed like a bruise he didn’t dare touch: What would his father say?

 

He already knew. Act normal. Be a real Diaz man. Handle it.

 

Like he handled everything else. Like he handled it when he was ten, trying to fill shoes too big for any kid.

 

Eddie stared out the window, soot clinging to his skin, sweat drying in streaks across his temple. The truck hummed around them as it rolled through downtown, the heavy silence of exhaustion thick in the air.

 

Chim and Ravi were knocked out—Chim with his head tipped against the glass, Ravi half-sprawled on Hen’s shoulder. Hen stared out at the city with that same haunted look they all wore after a call like that.

 

Two hours in overtime, and they’d still lost lives. Kids. No amount of training dulled that particular wound.

 

Buck sat on the bench opposite him, shoulder to shoulder with Hen. Their legs had no choice but to interlock in the tight space. Eddie’s thigh pressed against Buck’s, then Buck’s knee against his. Eddie’s shin was tucked beneath Buck’s calf. A human jigsaw. A human puzzle that fit perfectly.

 

It shouldn’t have felt like anything. But it did.

 

Buck was already looking at him when he glanced over. His face streaked in black and gray, blue eyes rimmed red from the smoke—Eddie hoped that’s all it was. His curls, flattened with sweat and ash, framed his face like shadows. His lips—Jesus, those lips—parted like he was about to speak.

 

But he didn’t.

 

Eddie swallowed. Buck’s eyes dipped to the motion like a hawk, and Eddie’s stomach clenched. Heat coiled in the pit of his stomach.

 

Too much. Too close.

 

He jerked his gaze out the window again and counted the seconds until the engine pulled into the station bay. This was not the time to get all flustered and turned on. The hiss of the brakes was a lifeline.

 

He was the first one out.

 

Hot water. Clean clothes. Routine. That was the only way to reset.

 

By the time the others started trickling into the locker room, Eddie was back in his jeans, boots laced, hoodie zipped. His duffel strap creaked on his shoulder as he passed through the bay.

 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he called out. Then, his eyes found Buck again. He’d come by later tonight to do a film marathon with him and Chris. “You going home?”

 

Buck shook his head, casually tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Gonna shower here, then head to the club.”

 

Eddie’s feet stopped moving. Club. The word punched through him with more force than he expected.

 

He knew what that meant. Buck had told him before—stories about scenes and safe words and nights spent with partners who knew what they were doing. Eddie had always cut him off before he got too detailed.

 

He didn’t want to know. Couldn’t know.

 

“Shower at home,” Eddie snapped before he could think. “I don’t want any STDs near my house.”

 

The words dropped like glass shattering in the quiet.

 

Buck blinked. “It’s not about sex, Eddie. And implying that everyone who goes to—”

 

“I’ll see you later, Buck.” Eddie turned sharply and walked away, throat tight and fists clenched.

 

He didn’t see the look on Buck’s face. He didn’t want to.

 

*

 

“What time is Buck coming?”

 

“Probably any moment now, mijo,” Eddie muttered, turning the page of his book.

 

Chris had set the table with several kinds of candy, chips, cookies, and popcorn. There was Coke, water, and glasses with slices of lemon. His son had been looking forward to this night all week—especially since Buck had been a little busy the past few months, with the club and scenes.

 

The bell rang and Chris jumped up to open the door for Buck, who had even more candy and popcorn in his hands. His hair was damp, curling on his forehead as if to mock Eddie for his earlier comment that Buck had to shower at home.

 

Eddie slowly stood from the couch to put his book away.

 

“Chris, you’ll prepare the first movie?” Buck asked, heading to the kitchen with his load. “Eddie, can you help me out here?”

 

With a soft huff, Eddie made his way over to the kitchen, where Buck leaned back against the cabinets, hands braced on the counter. He narrowed his eyes at Eddie.

 

Eddie stopped in his tracks, suddenly feeling like a cornered deer.

 

“You know where the bowls are, right?” Eddie finally said.

 

“What’s going on?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“What’s going on, Eddie?” Buck pressed, eyes searching his face. He crossed his arms over his chest. God. The movement made his biceps bulge beneath his shirt. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for weeks. You—you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder. Is it the club? Is it that repulsive to you that you don’t want to be friends anym—”

 

“No!” The word exploded from his mouth so fast and loud it startled even him.

 

He didn’t want to lose Buck. He’d rather have him the way he could than not at all.

 

Buck’s frown deepened. “Then what is it? Have I done something?”

 

Eddie gulped, unable to find the words. His heart raced, hands shook, skin flushed. It felt like his lungs were filling with water. Buck blurred from his vision. The room sounded underwater.

 

He knew what was happening. And yet, each time, it hit worse than the last. Because Eddie didn’t panic.

 

“—Breathe, Eddie. Now.”

 

He gasped for air, lungs finally filling.

 

“Another one, Eddie. Easy. You’re doing well.”

 

Buck’s voice cut through the fog, grounding him. Eddie followed each instruction without even noticing.

 

“You back with me?” Buck murmured, now in front of him instead of across the room.

 

Eddie nodded, shame coloring his neck and cheeks.

 

“You did great,” Buck said gently. “Now, do you want to talk about it or not? We don’t have to do it today, but… we do need to.”

 

Eddie cleared his throat. “’Nother time.” Then he fled the kitchen, settling on the farthest side of the couch and placing Chris strategically between them.

 

“Buck, hurry!” Chris shouted, engrossed in popcorn, oblivious to the sweat on his dad’s temple or the tremor in his fingers as he came down from the attack.

 

“Coming!” Buck called back. A few minutes later, he returned with even more bowls, as if they were feeding an army instead of three people. Buck and Eddie barely ate sweets—just some chips and popcorn, maybe.

 

He shot Eddie a look, but Eddie focused intently on the TV screen. They were watching the Star Wars movies—Chris and Buck had both been shocked when Eddie admitted he’d never seen them. He wasn’t seeing much now either. His eyes were on the screen, but his mind was elsewhere.

 

Blond curls. Blue eyes. A beautiful birthmark. A deep voice. Large, calloused hands. Random facts. Orders Eddie had followed without hesitation.

 

Maybe he finally understood why people wanted to scene with Buck.

 

Maybe he understood too well.

 

Maybe that was why he’d been so irritated lately.

 

Oh.

 

Oh.

 

For fuck’s sake.

 

“Okay,” Buck said, still grinning at Chris. “What should I make for dinner?”

 

“Can’t we just order pizza and watch the next one?”

 

Both Buck and Chris turned to Eddie.

 

He shrugged. “Sure.”

 

“Awesome,” Chris grinned. Buck pulled out his phone to pick the pizzas.

 

They were deep into the third movie, pizza crusts scattered on the table, when Chris fell asleep on Eddie’s shoulder. The sight made him swallow—his son was growing up so fast. Buck, still captivated by the movie, didn’t notice.

 

His mouth hung slightly open as he took in every scene like he hadn’t already seen the films at least five times. He licked his lips, and Eddie’s gaze followed the movement. Buck whispered lines with the actors. He sighed sadly at the final Anakin scene. Then the credits rolled, and he turned toward Chris with a blinding smile—one that fell when he saw he was asleep.

 

“God, how long has he been out?” Buck whispered, standing to carry Chris to his room.

 

Eddie let him, wondering if Chris would wake and protest being carried like a kid.

 

He didn’t.

 

A few minutes later, Buck came back out and began cleaning, but Eddie’s fingers wrapped around his wrist.

 

Buck froze and looked down at him.

 

“You good?”

 

“I want to do a scene with you.”

 

Buck laughed, like he thought Eddie was joking. But Eddie winced and pulled his hand back. Buck’s smile vanished.

 

“Shit. Sorry. I thought you were joking. But… um, what?” He sat slowly. “I thought you hated what I did. You never let me talk about it.”

 

Eddie stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say or do anymore. The need had slipped from his chest to his mouth—to Buck’s ears.

 

“And—and you want to do this with me?” Buck asked. “I know I said it’s not always about sex, but most of the time it is. And… with me? I don’t understand. Where is this coming from?”

 

Eddie said nothing.

 

“Eddie, talk to me,” Buck pleaded.

 

Eddie swallowed.

 

“Talk to me,” he repeated, firmer this time.

 

“I don’t know, Buck,” Eddie finally sighed. “It’s just something I want to try.”

 

“You want to sub?” Buck clarified.

 

Eddie could feel himself burn up. God. Why was this so hard? Why was Buck making it harder?

 

He gave a jerky nod.

 

“And with me?” Buck asked again, stuck on that point. “There are also women who dom. I know a few, if you—”

 

He stopped when he saw something shift in Eddie’s face.

 

“Eddie?”

 

Eddie looked at him again.

 

“Are you straight?”

 

A shuddering breath left Eddie as he shrugged. “I don’t know.” His voice sounded so soft, so… lost. Even to his own ears. He had never felt like this. “I just know that I want to do a scene with you. And that I don’t want you to do it with anyone else.”

 

That stopped Buck cold. This time, it was him that stayed silent. Eddie could see the rears behind his eyes trying to work out what was happening.

 

They stared at each other. Then Buck’s posture changed. His face softened. Even the way his voice sounded was different. Gentle.

 

“That’s good, Eddie. Thank you for telling me.” He scooted closer, eyes never leaving Eddie’s face. “Do you have anything in mind you want to try?”

 

“We’re really doing this?” Eddie asked, stunned.

 

“If that’s what you desire.”

 

If that’s what you desire. Wasn’t it what Buck wanted, too? Was this a mistake?

 

Eddie frowned at his hands.

 

“Look at me, Eddie.”

 

Eddie did as Buck asked—ordered. Was it something natural in Eddie to follow orders? Why did this feel different from the orders he had gotten in the army? They didn’t make him feel this warm, this… safe.

 

His body understood: Buck would take care of him.

 

And that...

 

It felt like Buck had punched the air from his lungs.

 

Hadn’t he always wanted someone to take care of him? Hadn’t he always wished not to be the man of the house? Hadn’t he begged God for someone he could lean on? People always leaned on him—Mom, Sofia, Adriana, Shannon, Ana, Marisol, Chris, people at work—

 

Wasn’t Buck the only person in this world he could lean on?

 

Buck was going to take care of Eddie.

 

And that—that—brought tears to Eddie’s eyes. He blinked hard, tried to swallow the emotion like he always did. Marine training. Firehouse control. Dad composure. But one tear slipped through anyway, warm and uninvited, carving a line down his cheek.

 

Buck didn’t flinch. Just gave him a soft, somber smile and brushed the tear away with the pad of his thumb—gentle, like he knew exactly how much pressure Eddie could take. His touch lingered longer than it needed to, thumb still moving slowly over Eddie’s skin like a silent reassurance.

 

Eddie exhaled, shaky. The blue in Buck’s eyes looked impossibly deep—almost too much to look at. His breath hitched when Buck spoke.

 

“I’ll give you anything you want, Eds.” It was barely above a whisper, like a promise spoken straight into his bones. “But for this to work, we have to talk. Plan. And… you gotta fill out a questionnaire.”

 

Eddie blinked, a crease forming between his brows. “A… questionnaire?”

 

Buck didn’t laugh, didn’t tease. He just watched him with that steady gaze that always made Eddie feel both stripped bare and somehow safe. But that first sentence still rang louder in his ears than anything else.

 

I’ll give you anything you want, Eds.

 

God. Buck meant it. That was the part that knocked the air out of Eddie’s lungs again. He felt the old pressure behind his ribs, the one he used to ignore when he couldn’t admit what he wanted.

 

He cleared his throat, eyes darting to the table. “Sounds like a lot of work,” he managed, trying to twist the weight in his chest into something light.

 

Buck finally cracked a grin, withdrawing his hand. The air between them instantly cooled. Eddie wanted his touch back.

 

“It is,” Buck said, standing to gather the dishes. “But it’s worth it.”

 

He winked—actually winked—then turned toward the kitchen like he hadn’t just shattered Eddie’s whole inner world with a smile and kind words.

 

By the time Eddie had caught up with even half of what had just happened, Buck was back, dropping onto the couch beside him again. Their knees bumped. They’d done that for years—on couches, at calls, sitting on curbs with bruised ribs and shared Gatorade. But tonight, the warmth of Buck’s knee against his own felt electric.

 

“There’s some stuff you should know before we go any further,” Buck started. His voice had slipped into what Eddie liked to call “lecture mode”—the same one he used when explaining hydraulic tools or random facts from his research rabbit holes.

 

But Eddie… wasn’t hearing a word.

 

His eyes were locked on Buck’s mouth, soft and pink. The slight curve of his upper lip, the flash of his tongue when he licked them mid-sentence. Then down to his arms—strong, solid, corded muscle under that fitted Henley. The kind of arms that carried people out of burning buildings like they weighed nothing. The kind of arms that had carried him once.

 

Eddie’s gaze dropped lower.

 

Fuck. He felt like a damned teenager that had discovered his dick.

 

But those thighs. Eddie wanted to see Buck’s nipples again. He wanted to beg him to be allowed to lick them and suck on them.

 

Would Buck lick Eddie’s too? Would he lick his cock? Could Eddie lick Buck’s?

 

“—and you’re not listening to me.”

 

Eddie’s eyes snapped up. Busted. He’d been staring at Buck’s crotch—staring. His cheeks flamed red. He braced for the teasing, for the cocky smirk, for something about “happy to see me?” or “want a closer look?”

 

But Buck didn’t smirk.

 

He just sighed and sat back. “Okay, maybe I was rambling,” he said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “But it’s important, Eddie. I need you to really understand before you decide if this is something you want.”

 

That sobered him.

 

Eddie nodded, throat tight. Because this—Buck—was everything. Buck could ruin him. He could fucking ruin him and Eddie would ask for more. Because Buck was Eddie’s person. His safest place. His gravity. And if Buck wanted him like this, wanted to try, wanted to care for him like this…

 

Eddie could be ruined, and he’d still ask for more. That was the conclusion.

 

“I’ll do some research,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Online.”

 

Buck made a face. “Please don’t. It’s a dumpster fire out there.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll send you some stuff—articles, the questionnaire, good resources. Just text me if anything confuses you, okay? There are no dumb questions. I’ve pretty much seen and done it all.”

 

And there it was again—that sting in Eddie’s gut. The green, ugly twist of jealousy. Because Buck had done this before. Not with Eddie. With others. With people who knew how to ask for what they wanted. He had not wanted to listen to his stories, because his fantasies went crazy with every bit of information Buck gave about his sex life.

 

Eddie’s fingers curled in his lap, trying to find another subject to latch onto. “Buck?”

 

Buck looked up immediately. “Yeah?”

 

“Frank prescribes me medication,” he said, quiet but steady.

 

Buck set his phone down. “Okay. Thanks for telling me. What’s it for?”

 

Eddie hesitated. They didn’t talk much about therapy—just enough to acknowledge the shared weight they carried.

 

“PTSD,” he said finally.

 

Buck’s expression didn’t flicker. Just a nod. “Does it help?”

 

“It does. But, uh… there are side effects. That might be…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t know how to.

 

Buck studied him for a beat. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “If something’s tricky, we adapt. I can be very persuasive.”

 

Was Buck flirting with him?

 

His smile was all warmth, no mockery. No pressure. Just Buck. And Eddie’s heart thudded like it was trying to crack open his ribs. He had not even finished his sentence, and Buck had still understood. Buck always understood.

 

His phone buzzed with the links and the questionnaire Buck had send. He welcomed the distraction and immediately unlocked his phone to check it out.

 

“Very well,” Buck said, standing again and slapping his thighs. “I’m gonna head out. Text me, okay? Questions, doubts, brain spirals—hit me with all of it.”

 

Eddie hummed, already scanning the first text, grateful for the escape from his own heartbeat.

 

Buck paused by the door, chuckling to himself. “Thank fuck for seventy-two hours of freedom.”

 

Then he was gone, leaving Eddie alone with a racing pulse, a stack of links, and the slow-blooming realization that maybe—just maybe—he was finally allowed to want.

 

*

 

Eddie: Do you expect me to call you Master?

 

Buck: we need 2 talk abt what we’ll call each other

 

Buck: doesnt have to be master

 

Buck: daddy, sir, just buck smth else

 

Buck: maybe not buck but if thats the only thing ure comftble w we can do that 2

 

Eddie huffed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head as he stared at the screen. Sometimes texting with Buck felt suspiciously like texting with Christopher—too many abbreviations, too little punctuation. He really was too old for this shorthand crap.

 

He’d been glued to his laptop ever since Buck left—two hours, give or take. His apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that used to make him itch, but tonight it buzzed around him like static. The links Buck had sent were still open in different tabs. He’d fallen into a rabbit hole and surfaced with his brain lit up like a flare.

 

Eddie: Where would we do a scene?

 

Buck: station 118?

 

Eddie’s mouth dropped open before a startled laugh escaped him, echoing through his room. Of course Buck would say something like that.

 

Eddie: Cap’s office?

 

Buck: LOL

 

Buck: we can go to the club

 

Buck: @ homes also possible w smaller scenes

 

Eddie: I don’t want to go to the club.

 

The thought made his skin crawl. Public spaces. Eyes. Judgement. Exposure. But most of all, people who had already done countless of scenes with Buck.

 

Buck: thats cool anything u want

 

And just like that, Eddie’s stomach did a summersault. Buck didn’t push. Didn’t try to sell him on it. Just gave him space—safe, endless space.

 

Eddie opened the questionnaire. Seven pages. Seven pages. Rows and rows of acts, some he recognized, most he didn’t. Each item had options: tried, how much you’d like to try it on a scale from 1-5. Giving. Receiving. Observing.

 

His cursor hovered over a section labeled “Edgeplay.” The list made his throat tighten. Every time he saw something he was remotely interested in, and image of him and Buck doing that in a scene flashed in front of his eyes.

 

He hadn’t even known half these things existed.

 

One part of him was wildly curious; the other part… nauseated. There were a few things that made him sit back and physically recoil. A twist of his stomach. A hard no. And then a quiet, creeping worry: What if Buck wanted those things? What if he expected them? What would happen if Buck did like to play with feces or if he wanted to humiliate him in public?

 

He grabbed his phone like a lifeline.

 

Eddie: What happens if one of us wants to do something and the other doesn’t?

 

Buck: depends on the dom tbh

 

Buck: im open to a lot not everything tho

 

Buck: but I wouldnt deny u a scene if u wldnt want 2 do smth

 

It took Eddie a second to absorb that. The idea that Buck—the Buck who used to sprint into burning buildings without backup—would turn down something he wanted just because Eddie wasn’t comfortable with it?

 

His chest ached. A weird, warm kind of ache.

 

Eddie: Are we going to talk about the questionnaires?

 

Buck: yeah not now tho its 3 in the morning eddie go 2 bed

 

Eddie: Tomorrow?

 

Buck: u done already?

 

Buck: eager boy

 

Eddie’s cheeks burned. Jesus.

 

He could hear Buck saying that—could see the grin, the teasing glint in his eyes. Could imagine that low, knowing tone curling around the words. “Eager boy.” His heart tripped over itself.

 

Before he lost his nerve, he hit send. Questionnaire attached.

 

Eddie: Goodnight.

 

Buck: u rlly think I can sleep now

 

Eddie laughed softly, the sound muffled by his pillow as he set the phone on his nightstand. His eyes drifted shut with a weightless kind of contentment pulling at the corners of his mouth.

 

He hadn’t expected this to feel good. Safe. Fun.

 

But with Buck… it always did.

 

*

 

Eddie had thought discussing their questionnaires was the most embarrassing thing ever. But during their next seventy-two, Buck scheduled their first scene.

 

He had ordered Eddie to strip to his boxers and kneel on the ground, palms resting on his thighs, head bowed to the floor of his bedroom. A soft pillow had been placed for his knees where Buck expected him to kneel—right at the foot of Buck’s bed.

 

And now he was somewhere downstairs, while Eddie remained kneeling.

 

They had set some ground rules before the scene began.

 

Eddie was only allowed to do anything if Buck gave permission—even speak. They would use the traffic light system: green for go, yellow for pause, red for stop. Each of them had chosen a safeword. Eddie, a little lamely, had gone with safeword. Buck’s was potato, because of course it was something like potato.

 

If either of them said their safeword, the scene would end immediately, and they’d move to aftercare—after checking in, of course. Buck had also introduced him to SSC: Safe, Sane, and Consensual—the foundational philosophy of BDSM. Some articles Buck sent had been critical of SSC, and Eddie had found it so typically Buck to not just offer rainbows and sunshine, but the full picture.

 

Their first scene would be soft. Nothing intense. Eddie wasn’t some hardcore BDSM enthusiast anyway, and Buck clearly wanted to take it slow. He was nervous, Eddie could tell—afraid of pushing too far too soon.

 

Any moment now, Buck would come upstairs. He’d blindfold Eddie first, help him relax. Then they’d move to the bed, where Buck would tease his senses. If Eddie got hard, Buck might jerk him off. Otherwise, that would be it for tonight.

 

So very soft. Nothing hardcore.

 

Eddie finally heard footsteps on the stairs. His instinct was to look up—to see if Buck had been undressing, or what the hell he’d been doing down there. Maybe he’d been getting something?

 

But Buck immediately made a low sound of disapproval in his throat.

 

“Eyes on the floor, sweetheart.”

 

Eddie looked down again, heart pounding. He had caught a glimpse—Buck was still in jeans and socks, though Eddie wasn’t sure about the rest. He was more naked than Buck, which made him feel… a certain kind of way. It was embarrassing, but not in a bad way.

 

“Tell me your safewords, Eddie.”

 

“Green for keep going, yellow for pause, red for stop. Safeword to end the scene.”

 

“For end of the scene…?”

 

“Sir,” Eddie said immediately. And for a brief moment, he felt like a soldier again. Which was… weird. Because he had never felt this kind of thrill taking orders in the Army. Or when he used to call his superiors Sir. But with Buck… He had been looking forward to it.

 

He sensed Buck moving and felt him settle behind him, one leg outstretched on either side of Eddie’s body.

 

“I’m going to blindfold you. Color?”

 

“Green, sir,” Eddie breathed.

 

Buck’s hands appeared in Eddie’s peripheral vision, followed by the soft cloth of the blindfold—and then, darkness.

 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Buck whispered, his breath warm against Eddie’s ear and cheek.

 

Eddie swallowed. His hands shook a little, even as they rested, palms-up, on his thighs.

 

Buck pulled him gently back until Eddie was resting against his chest. One arm wrapped around his chest, holding him in place, while Buck’s other hand intertwined with Eddie’s.

 

“Do you feel me breathing?” Buck asked.

 

“Yes, sir,” Eddie mumbled. He could. He found himself unconsciously syncing his breath to Buck’s—inhale when he inhaled, exhale when he exhaled.

 

“Do you feel the soft blindfold on your cheekbones?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Do you feel my fingers between yours?”

 

Eddie hummed softly in response.

 

“Do you feel my arm brushing against your nipples?”

 

That one made him bite his lip. Because now that Buck said it, yes—he did. His nipples were already hard, partly from being undressed, but also from the scene itself. And his nipples, unfortunately, were very sensitive.

 

Buck shifted just slightly, stroking against Eddie’s chest.

 

A needy, breathy whimper escaped Eddie before he could stop it. Something raw. Unexpected. Something he never thought would come out of his mouth.

 

“I need verbal answers, Eddie,” Buck said firmly.

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Color?”

 

“Green.”

 

“Let’s get you on the bed, baby.”

 

Eddie swallowed at the pet name and let Buck help him up. His body felt boneless, relaxed. Exactly as Buck had intended.

 

Eddie felt the sheets against his skin, the pillow beneath his head. He didn’t hear or see Buck, but only a few heartbeats later, his fingers were on Eddie’s body—tracing invisible patterns across his torso, over his shoulders, down his arms, along his thighs and legs.

 

Every spot he touched lit Eddie’s nerves on fire, sending sparks straight to the coil in his stomach. He hadn’t been this turned on by so little since maybe his teenage years. But it wasn’t just the touch—it was the anticipation. The not knowing what Buck would do next. The trust.

 

Because Eddie knew, no matter what happened, Buck would take care of him.

 

He felt a finger press over the bulge in his underwear. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but it was already more than he’d had in the last few months with Marisol.

 

A gasp escaped his lips as Buck traced the outline of his cock through the fabric. His hips bucked on instinct—and suddenly, Buck’s hand was gone and everything went completely silent again. No rustling of sheets. No skin on skin.

 

“Buck?” Eddie whispered.

 

“Did I tell you you could speak?”

 

Oh.

 

Eddie swallowed.

 

“Did I?”

 

“No, sir,” he replied, voice small. He swallowed again. Had he messed up?

 

“Did I tell you to move your hips?” Buck’s voice was deeper now, commanding, rougher around the edges.

 

Eddie’s heart pounded. “No, sir.”

 

Silence. Then the bed dipped beside him, and Buck’s lips brushed his ear.

 

“I’ll let it slide this once. You’re new, and I’m a kind man. But do something again without permission, and you won’t be able to sit straight tomorrow.”

 

The words shot straight to Eddie’s cock. It was pathetic. He knew that. And yet… something inside him wanted to test the boundaries.

 

He didn’t.

 

“Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Eddie breathed.

 

Without another word, Buck pressed a kiss to his neck, followed by his tongue. Every place his fingers had touched before, his tongue now followed—slow, deliberate strokes, as if Eddie were a canvas and Buck was painting something sacred.

 

Within minutes, Eddie was a panting mess. He couldn’t hold back the gasps, no matter how hard he tried. When Buck’s tongue flicked over his left nipple, then grazed it with his teeth, Eddie bit his lip to muffle the moans.

 

But Buck wasn’t having that.

 

A thumb pulled his lip free.

 

“I want to hear you.”

 

Then two fingers slipped into Eddie’s mouth.

 

“Suck, pretty boy.”

 

Eddie’s heart galloped. But he obeyed—he wasn’t quite ready to find out what Buck would do if he didn’t. He closed his lips around the fingers, sucked, hollowed his cheeks. He swirled his tongue around them, and without warning, imagined it was Buck’s cock.

 

The thought made him flinch.

 

Buck retreated his fingers.

 

“Color, Eddie?”

 

Because… was that what he wanted? Had he always wanted this? Dick in his mouth? Dick up his ass? Was this just Buck? Or had he lied to every woman he’d ever dated? Lied to himself?

 

A warm hand cradled his face.

 

“Do you need a moment, Eddie? Give me a color, sweetheart.”

 

The words grounded him, pulling him out of his head.

 

“Yellow,” he whispered, swallowing. “Sorry.”

 

“No,” Buck said firmly. “No ‘sorry.’ Are you okay keeping the blindfold on?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said with more certainty. “I just need a second. It’s all…”

 

Buck didn’t finish the thought for him.

 

“…a bit overwhelming,” Eddie said after a beat. “All new.”

 

Buck hummed, thumb brushing gently along Eddie’s jaw. Blushing, Eddie leaned into his touch.

 

“Give me a new color whenever you’re ready. Green or red, your choice.”

 

Definitely not red.

 

He was enjoying this far too much. Existential crisis and Catholic guilt could wait.

 

After a few quiet moments, where Eddie kept nuzzling against Buck’s hand, he said, “Green.”

 

“Good boy.”

 

And then—cold. Cold, cold, cold.

 

Eddie shrieked. The warmth was gone, and in its place something icy slid over his nipple.

 

An ice cube. It had to be.

 

Then Buck’s tongue followed, warming the skin again. He repeated the process—cold and hot, sting and soothe—on the other nipple.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groaned.

 

He had never been this turned on in his life. His whole body was alive, hyperaware. Buck brought him up, cooled him down, then brought him even higher. Again and again.

 

The ice trailed lower, down his torso, circling his belly button. Buck’s tongue followed, lapping up the water that dripped there. Then the ice moved lower, halting just above the waistband of his underwear.

 

Eddie’s hips jerked.

 

Oh, shit.

 

“I— Sorry, sorry,” he blurted out.

 

Buck didn’t say anything. Eddie only heard the shift of sheets. The soft clinking of ice cubes.

 

Buck had moved off the bed.

 

Eddie strained to hear something—anything—beyond the thunder of his own heartbeat and the rushing pulse in his ears. The silence around him felt pressurized, like the calm before a storm.

 

Then came Buck’s touch—rough and sure, fingers that had seen almost a decade of rescues, scars, and late-night calluses. Hands that didn’t just reach for Eddie, but claimed him.

 

Eddie barely registered the shift before gravity tilted and he was moving—half-carried, half-dragged, until his chest hit the edge of the bed and his hips were pulled into Buck’s lap. He landed with a soft grunt, disoriented but not afraid. Never afraid of Buck.

 

He’d known Buck was strong—of course he had—but this kind of casual strength? The effortless way Buck moved him like he weighed nothing? Dios mío. His breath caught somewhere between awe and arousal.

 

"You moved again without permission," Buck’s voice was a quiet warning, deep and coaxing, as his hand landed firm and possessive on Eddie’s ass.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Eddie said, voice tight with anticipation.

 

“Bad boy,” Buck murmured, a dangerous edge curling around the words as his palm smoothed over the fabric of Eddie’s boxers, slow and measured. “And bad boys get punished.”

 

Eddie’s heartbeat picked up, loud and fast and desperate to escape his chest. His mouth went dry. His mind—spinning.

 

“What have I told you would happen?” Buck asked, his tone infuriatingly calm.

 

“I—You—” Eddie swallowed hard. “I won’t be able to sit straight tomorrow.”

 

“Exactly.” Buck’s fingers dipped just under the waistband now, brushing against overheated skin, close—so close—to where Eddie already ached.

 

“I’ll take these off,” Buck continued, almost casually, “and give you ten. Very generous of me, no?”

 

Eddie bit his lip, face burning, arousal sharp in his gut. He shouldn’t want this as much as he did—but God, he did.

 

“Color, Eddie?”

 

“G-green, sir,” he managed, barely above a whisper.

 

“Good boy. Count for me.”

 

Buck tugged down the boxers, slow and purposeful, until Eddie was bare. He felt air kiss his skin, his ass fully exposed. His face flushed deeper, heat crawling down his neck and chest. Fuck.

 

“Such a pretty ass,” Buck muttered, and then his hand was back, this time skin to skin. The warm weight of his palm soothed, kneaded, teased. Eddie couldn’t help the way his cock twitched, pressing uselessly into Buck’s thigh.

 

The first smack came without warning—a sharp, echoing crack that startled a gasp out of him. Eddie jolted forward with the impact, hips grinding involuntarily. His cock throbbed, aching with need.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned, face pressed against the mattress. He could feel the heat blooming on his cheek where Buck’s hand had landed, imagined the red print it left behind.

 

“Is that how the numeral system starts nowadays?” Buck teased.

 

If Eddie wasn’t so overwhelmed, he might’ve laughed. Instead, he gritted out, “One.”

 

The second came quick, still jarring. His body reacted before his mind caught up—another rock forward, a whimper caught in his throat.

 

“Two.”

 

Buck rubbed soothing circles into his skin, letting the warmth return. Then—three sharp strikes in quick succession.

 

“Three, four…five,” Eddie gasped out, voice cracking around the last number. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

 

Jesus fucking Christ.

 

Tears pricked behind his eyes—not from pain exactly, but from the overwhelming flood of sensation. From how good it felt. Buck leaned in, pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck, and Eddie actually felt a tear slip down his cheek.

 

“Such a good boy, taking your punishment, hmm?” Buck murmured against his skin, voice low and reverent.

 

The next smack came just as Eddie braced for it—crack, and his world narrowed to the sting, the sound, the feeling of Buck grounding him.

 

“S-six, sir.”

 

Seven and eight landed lower—just beneath the swell of his ass, on the tender backs of his thighs. Eddie jerked and hissed; those ones hurt more. They should hurt—he deserved it.

 

His thoughts began to float, unmoored. The pain, the heat, the trust—it all blurred together until Eddie was weightless.

 

“Nine,” he whispered, voice stripped bare. “Ten.”

 

Silence settled again, heavy and warm like a blanket. He didn’t feel the sting anymore—only the calm that followed. His body trembled slightly, but inside, he was still. It was just silent, peaceful. He was with Buck and Buck would take care of him.

 

Buck’s lips pressed two soft kisses, one to each aching cheek, and then he pulled Eddie up into his lap. Gentle arms wrapped around him, holding him close. Eddie let himself be folded in.

 

The blindfold came off and he blinked against the dim light, the soft haze in the room a contrast to the sharpness of sensation moments ago. But Buck was there, eyes steady and hands sure.

 

Eddie knew, in that moment, he’d never feel safer than in the aftermath of Buck’s storm.

 

“Hey, there you are,” Buck hummed, smiling at him. “Color?”

 

“Green, sir,” Eddie said.

 

Buck looked him over. “You with me, Eds?”

 

Eddie hummed, leaning heavily against Buck’s chest. “Just sleepy,” he mumbled. “Did I do good?”

 

“You did very good, sweetheart,” Buck cooed. “Which is why you get to choose: do you want to sleep, or do you want an orgasm?”

 

Eddie blinked the haze away. That’s when he noticed the wet mess of his leaking cock against his belly. He was painfully hard.

 

Buck let out a huff of laughter—probably at Eddie’s eagerness. “I probably shouldn’t have even asked. So, orgasm, then you’ll lie down on the bed and I’ll smear some cream on your ass, and then sleep. Sound like a plan?”

 

Eddie nodded. “Green.”

 

Buck placed Eddie on the bed next to him, and Eddie mourned the loss of touch immediately. But then his mouth started to water as Buck removed his shirt and jeans and leaned back against the headboard, legs spread.

 

“Crawl to me, baby.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched. He bit his lip and obeyed. Buck’s pupils were blown wide, the blue of his irises nearly eclipsed.

 

“Sweet baby,” Buck murmured. For a moment, they grinned at one another. The soft hum of the city filtered in through the cracked window, filling the quiet between them. Eddie kept crawling, closer and closer—but still not close enough.

 

Buck’s fingers twitched against the sheets, and a few crawl-steps later, Eddie understood why. Buck grabbed him by the neck and crashed their mouths together.

 

Eddie’s breath caught in his throat, but he kissed back immediately. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t shy. It was years of unspoken words pressed into the curve of Buck’s mouth—hot, deep, possessive. Eddie responded with a small moan, grabbing Buck’s broad shoulders for support.

 

Buck pushed Eddie onto his back without breaking the kiss. He pressed himself against him—chest to chest, heart to heart, erection to clothed erection. Then the kiss turned hungrier. Buck’s tongue slid against Eddie’s with an urgency that made Eddie realize: the whole scene hadn’t just been for his pleasure. Buck had been enjoying it too.

 

When Buck finally pulled back, Eddie chased him, unwilling to lose contact—not now, not again. He had never felt like this before.

 

“Easy, baby,” Buck hummed, pushing Eddie back down and hovering over him. “I’m going to sit back. You’re going to sit between my legs. Understood?”

 

“Yes, sir.” Eddie licked his lips.

 

They moved quickly. Before Eddie knew it, Buck had warmed lube in his hand and wrapped his fist around Eddie’s leaking cock. Eddie had never seen such a manly hand around his cock—aside from his own. Manly was the only word that came to mind.

 

His vision went white as he leaned back against Buck’s chest.

 

“You’ve been so good today, sweetheart,” Buck praised. “Even took your punishment so well.”

 

Eddie beamed, moans spilling from his lips as Buck set a relentless pace. Buck hooked his ankles around Eddie’s, spreading him open. Even if Eddie had wanted to be shy, he couldn’t—not with the way Buck had him displayed, fully accessible. That thought sparked a chain of vivid images: Buck forcing his legs apart. Buck bending him over any surface in the house. Buck tying him down, unable to move, completely at Buck’s mercy.

 

Fuck. Eddie wanted Buck to be rough.

 

“Harder,” he gasped. “Please, sir. Please. Pleasepleaseplease.”

 

Buck put his arm to work. Eddie’s vision went white again as he came, hot spur after hot spur landing on Buck’s hand, his own stomach, the bed. Buck didn’t stop—he kept milking him, even after Eddie was spent, dragging a few more tugs out of him that made Eddie’s entire body twitch and tremble with overstimulation.

 

A groan tore from him, raw and overwhelming.

 

Buck hummed. “One day, we’re going to see how many orgasms you can give me.”

 

Eddie couldn’t speak. He could only slump back against Buck.

 

“Eddie, how are you feeling, sweetheart?”

 

“Good,” he slurred, blinking slower now, exhaustion setting in like a heavy blanket.

 

“Good,” Buck echoed, gently guiding him to lie on his stomach.

 

Eddie wanted to protest Buck leaving—but he didn’t have the energy. Even though the scene hadn’t been intense by BDSM standards, it had been for him.

 

He hovered between consciousness and unconsciousness, barely tethered to the world. He felt Buck follow through on every promise: making him drink some water, cleaning up the mess, rubbing cream into his ass. The second Buck massaged it in, the sting returned—he’d definitely have trouble sitting tomorrow.

 

Thank God they were off for another two days.

 

He was dimly aware when Buck came back to lie beside him, spooning him. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He couldn’t. But he felt it. All of it.

 

“Sweet dreams, Eds.”

Chapter 2

Notes:

as if I don't have a hundred papers to write... anyways, here's chapter 2!! hope ya'll love it

Buck hadn’t slept. At all.

 

Instead, he’d made scones. And fruit salad. And eggs. And basically everything in the kitchen that would keep his hands moving and his brain from spiraling. Because upstairs—up his stairs—Eddie was still in his bed, and Buck was this close to imploding.

 

They’d done it. Really done a scene. Eddie had asked, and Buck had said yes, and then Buck had kissed him. Had put his hands all over him. Had made Eddie moan and beg and blush. And somewhere between the kissing and the spanking and Eddie coming apart in his hands, Buck had lost the ability to deny that he was completely and utterly in love with his best friend.

 

He hissed as he burned his finger on a hot dish. “Fuck.”

 

“Under the faucet.”

 

Buck froze. Eddie’s voice—rough from sleep—somehow managed to startle him more than the pain. He obeyed though, slipping his finger beneath the water, shoulders tight, trying to act casual.

 

“Morning,” he mumbled, half turning.

 

Eddie was rubbing his eyes as he shuffled in, loose-limbed and sore in a way that made Buck’s stomach flip. He sat down and immediately winced, lifting off the chair with a grunt.

 

Oh, fuck. That was hot.

 

The image of Eddie’s abused and red ass would never leave Buck’s mind. He’d jerk off to it for eternity.

 

“You weren’t kidding,” Eddie muttered, lowering himself carefully back down. His face was sour. His ass cheeks must really hurt. And Buck had taken it easy on him!

 

He grinned. “You good there, Eddie?”

 

A raised brow. A flushed face. Eddie didn’t answer—just gave Buck a look and then pointedly glanced at his still-burned finger. He could basically hear the You good there, Buck?

 

Buck shrugged and turned off the water. “Go clean up. Breakfast is almost ready.”

 

When Eddie came back, damp-haired and dressed in fresh clothes, Buck handed him coffee just the way he liked it. He had laid out the table like they were two normal guys having a normal breakfast. Except there was nothing normal about what had happened between them, and Buck couldn’t stop seeing the way Eddie had looked at him last night. Couldn’t stop wanting him. Wanting more.

 

But he couldn’t. Eddie was his best friend. The best friend he wanted to fuck so badly.

 

Buck breathed out, taking a sip from his tea as he sat down opposite Eddie. The silence stretched as they ate. Eddie had his thinking face on—slightly scrunched brow, frown lines pulling at the corners of his mouth, eyes unfocused as they stared at nothing.

 

“How are you feeling?” Buck finally asked.

 

Eddie didn’t look up. “Good.”

 

That wasn’t good enough. Buck filled both their plates again, trying to keep his tone light.

 

“This doesn’t have to be awkward,” he said. “What we did? Totally normal. Did you know in 1700s France, aristocrats used to have custom spanking furniture? Like, full-on carved oak masterpieces just for getting whipped. I read that on a weird history thread at 2 a.m. once”

 

Eddie blinked at him. “Of course you did.”

 

Buck grinned, pleased when Eddie mirrored the expression a second later.

 

Yeah, they’d be just fine. They were Buck and Eddie. Nothing had changed.

 

“So... how long’s Chris at his friend’s?” Buck asked.

 

“He’ll be back tonight. Why?”

 

“We still need to talk about the scene.”

 

Eddie sighed, already annoyed. “Why?”

 

Buck huffed out a smile at his clear annoyance. Eddie just wanted to put this away and never talk about it again. But Buck would make him. Not only for himself, but also for Eddie.

 

“Because I know you’re not gonna unpack this with Frank,” Buck said, sipping his tea.

 

The look Eddie gave him could’ve curdled milk.

 

“Okay,” Eddie muttered. “What do you want to know?”

 

Buck hesitated, then launched into it. “What do you think of it? Did you like it? Are there parts you didn’t like now that you look back on it? Do you regret it?”

 

Did you mean it when you said you didn’t want me to scene with anyone?

 

Do you want to do it again?

 

Do you want… me?

 

“It was fine,” Eddie said with a shrug.

 

Buck groaned, dropping his head on the table with a thump. “You’re impossible.” Then something came to mind, and he whipped his head up again, almost giving himself a whiplash. “Okay—yes or no only.”

 

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Fine. Hit me.”

 

Buck smirked. “You sure you want more?”

 

Eddie flushed deep red. “Just ask.”

 

“Do you regret it?”

 

“No.”

 

Buck exhaled.

 

Finally—finally—a clear answer.

 

He leaned back in his chair, hands cradling his mug like it was an anchor. He stared at Eddie, who was very pointedly focused on slicing his scone in half, as if it required surgical precision.

 

“So,” Buck started casually, too casually, “on a scale of one to ‘I want to crawl out of my skin,’ how awkward is this breakfast for you?”

 

Eddie snorted. “Mild cringe. You’re doing great, by the way.”

 

“I burned myself.”

 

“You burn yourself twice a week.”

 

Buck’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, well, I was distracted by the man whose ass I spanked last night sitting at my kitchen table eating scones.”

 

Eddie froze mid-bite.

 

Buck grinned like a man who’d decided to lean straight into the chaos. “Oh, no. Was that too much? Should I not say spanked? Should I say—what do they call it? Applied manual impact therapy?”

 

Eddie choked on his coffee.

 

Buck reached over with a napkin, trying not to look too smug. “Okay, okay, real talk—did it feel weird waking up in my bed?”

 

Eddie swallowed carefully. “Not… weird. Just… new.”

 

Buck tapped the rim of his mug, considering. “Right. New. Totally. Super chill. Very casual. So casual I made you a full continental breakfast to mask the fact I’m screaming inside.”

 

“You’re not screaming,” Eddie said flatly.

 

“I am. On the inside. Like, full-on horror movie screaming. Ghostface-level screaming.”

 

“You’re smiling.”

 

“I’m unwell, Eddie!”

 

Eddie’s lips twitched, betraying the faintest laugh. “I can tell.”

 

Buck leaned in, eyes dancing. “Okay, another yes-or-no question.”

 

Eddie gave him a wary look. “We’re doing that again?”

 

“Oh, we are. I have a list now. Buckley’s Very Normal Post-Kink Inquiry Checklist™.”

 

“Oh my God.”

 

“Question one,” Buck said, holding up a finger. “Do you want me to stop talking?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Too bad. Question two: Did it turn you on when I called you good last night?”

 

Eddie’s jaw visibly clenched. He stabbed a piece of fruit with unnecessary force.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Buck whispered dramatically. “Okay. Question three: hypothetically, if I told you I’ve replayed last night in my head like, forty-seven times since 2 a.m.—and I mean, frame by frame—would you think I’m pathetic or emotionally constipated?”

 

“Both.”

 

“Wow. Hurtful and accurate. Then again, would take one to know one.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but there was a flush creeping down his neck now, a softness in his posture that hadn’t been there before. He was relaxing—finally.

 

“Okay, your turn,” Buck said, sitting back and raising both brows expectantly. “Ask me something.”

 

Eddie eyed him like he was trying to decide whether to humor him or strangle him with the dish towel. He eventually went with: “Alright. Fine. Did you mean it when you said I was good?”

 

Buck didn’t flinch. “Yes.”

 

The answer came too quick, too easy. Because he had meant it. Every word. Every praise he’d whispered or growled or moaned into Eddie’s skin had come from some raw, honest place Buck hadn’t even realized he had access to until last night.

 

Eddie looked down at his plate, quiet for a second too long. Then: “Okay.”

 

“That’s it?” Buck asked. “Just okay?”

 

“What else am I supposed to say?” Eddie asked, glancing up. “You said I was good. I believe you. I… liked hearing it.”

 

Buck bit down on a grin that felt a little too proud. “So noted. I’ll add it to the checklist under ‘verbal praise kink—confirmed.’”

 

“You are never allowed to say that phrase again,” Eddie said, pointing his fork like a weapon.

 

Buck waggled his eyebrows. “You didn’t say no.”

 

Eddie groaned and shoved another bite of egg into his mouth, like maybe chewing would save him from the conversation spiraling even further into the abyss.

 

“Okay, okay,” Buck said, holding up both hands in surrender. “No more checklist. I’ll be serious.”

 

Eddie gave him a side-eye so intense it could’ve cut glass. “You? Serious?”

 

“I can be serious.”

 

“You said Ghostface was screaming in your soul like five minutes ago.”

 

“Yeah, well, he is, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also be serious.”

 

Eddie just shook his head, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth again, the beginnings of another smile. And that was good. That was what Buck was going for. Keep things light. Keep things normal. Let the dust settle before anything else complicated it all again.

 

They lapsed into a silence that was less tense this time, filled with clinks of forks and the hum of the fridge. Buck thought about letting it lie. Letting the moment pass. But something about the quiet made the need to speak louder. More urgent.

 

“Do you…” he started, then cleared his throat. “Would you like to scene again?”

 

Buck purposely didn’t ask him if he wanted to do another scene with him. He wasn’t sure he’d survive that without blurting out that he loved him. Besides, even though last night was a bit blurry, it didn’t mean Eddie wasn’t straight. Maybe he was just experimenting. Maybe he just wanted to do a first scene with Buck because he knew him and he trusted him.

 

Eddie set down his coffee slowly. Didn’t answer right away.

 

Buck kept his gaze locked on Eddie. “Just asking. No pressure. No expectations. I just… think you liked it.”

 

Eddie huffed a laugh under his breath, watching Buck—soft, careful.

 

“I think,” Eddie said slowly, “we… shouldn’t talk about it over scones.”

 

Buck blinked. “Not a scone guy?”

 

“Not a kink debrief over baked goods guy.”

 

Buck snorted. “Okay, fair. What are you then? ‘Let’s unpack it over tactical gear and brooding silence’ guy?”

 

Eddie shrugged. “That works.”

 

They both laughed.

 

“Anyways, I know doms who are safe. Respectful. Communicate well. All that textbook stuff,” Buck said, missing the way Eddie’s face fell. “Let me know when you want to get into contact with them.”

 

And that was maybe the first real moment where Buck let himself breathe—deep and full and with a little less panic clawing at his ribs.

 

No love confessions. No dramatic declarations. Just Buck and Eddie. Navigating something new in the only way they knew how: with teasing, awkward breakfasts, and the hope of maybe doing it again.

 

*

 

The call came through the radio just as Buck was finishing his coffee. “Possible entrapment, apartment 4B. Couple involved. Proceed with caution.”

 

Which wouldn’t be so crazy, hadn’t Cap asked for more details. Dispatch dropped something about a bondage situation. Not a hostage situation. A bondage situation.

 

Buck could feel Eddie’s eyes on him, but he pointedly didn’t look at him. Their bond was back to how it was before the scene and Eddie had only asked for one scene. Buck was the stupid one who had asked if Eddie wanted more. Well, his answer was very clear.

 

There had been no answer. Which said enough.

 

They arrived at the apartment just past noon — the kind of quiet, overcast LA day where you’d expect maybe a gas leak or a kitchen fire. Not this.

 

Cap knocked twice before pushing the door open. “LAFD! Anyone call for—?”

 

The scene froze them all mid-step.

 

In the center of the room was a man, early thirties, face redder than a stop sign, currently suspended in what could only be described as an ambitious DIY bondage swing. He was hanging by the wrists and thighs, supported by padded straps and a complex system of knots that would’ve impressed a sailing instructor. A flustered woman in a silk robe hovered nearby, biting her lip hard enough it looked like it hurt.

 

“Oh my God,” she blurted, “he said he knew how to get out of it!”

 

The guy groaned. “I thought I did.”

 

Hen recovered first, already moving toward the couple with her bag. “Let’s check vitals before we laugh too hard.”

 

“Any injuries?” Cap asked, voice steady but with that sharp edge that meant let’s keep it moving.

 

“He’s fine,” the woman said quickly. “Just can’t feel his toes and won’t stop yelling about his shoulders.”

 

Cap nodded, already gesturing. “Hen, Chim — medical. Buck—?”

 

Buck blinked. “I mean, it’s a lot of tension around the rotator cuffs. If we loosen the center strap and shift pressure from the carabiner here—” He stopped mid-sentence, realizing everyone was looking at him.

 

Cap raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve got experience.”

 

Buck cleared his throat. “I mean… enough to know a poorly rigged anchor when I see one.”

 

Cap didn’t hesitate. “Alright, Buck, you’re in charge of the disentanglement. Ravi, assist him. Hen, Chim, check him over for nerve compression.”

 

Eddie stayed near the door, arms crossed, trying and failing to look at anything other than the floor. His ears were almost purple.

 

Buck passed him with a flicker of amusement. “You okay?”

 

Eddie nodded too fast. “Fine.”

 

“Right,” Buck said under his breath, turning back to the suspended man. “Okay, Ravi, I need you to support under his legs while I loosen this knot—no, not that one. Trust me, it’ll tighten everything if you yank that.”

 

Ravi followed directions without question, glancing at Buck with open curiosity. “You really do know what you’re doing. I mean, like really know.”

 

Chim snorted behind them. “Yeah, not gonna lie, Buck, this is either very impressive or very concerning.”

 

Hen rolled her eyes but smiled. “Vital signs are steady. No signs of circulation loss, just some embarrassment.”

 

“Speak for yourself,” Chim said, shooting a look toward Eddie. “Yo, Diaz, you okay back there? You’re redder than the emergency lights. Didn’t know you were such a prude.”

 

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not— It’s just warm in here.”

 

“Sure, buddy,” Chim said, grinning. “Warm. Right.”

 

Buck fought a smirk as he worked the last strap free. The man collapsed gratefully into Ravi’s arms, groaning but clearly relieved.

 

“All good,” Buck said, stepping back. “Situation de-escalated. No damage except to someone’s ego.”

 

Cap gave a nod of approval. “Nice work, Buck. And thank you for not making me ask where you learned that.”

 

Buck chuckled. “Appreciate that, Cap.”

 

As they packed up and filed out, Buck let his shoulder nudge Eddie’s lightly. “You really okay?”

 

Eddie muttered, “I hate everything about today.”

 

Buck grinned. “Yeah, me too. But admit it — I nailed those knots.”

 

Eddie didn’t answer as he went to hold the gurney steady for the man. They still wanted to check him out at the hospital.

 

*

 

“Everything okay between you and Eddie?” Hen asked later in the shift as she slid onto the couch beside Buck.

 

He didn’t answer right away. The TV flickered in front of them, tuned to the news, but Buck wasn’t watching. Not really. His eyes were on the screen, but his thoughts were elsewhere—looping back to Eddie. Or more specifically, Eddie’s sudden distance.

 

They hadn’t really spoken all day. Not properly. Not the way they usually did. Normally he sat down opposite Buck in the engine, but today he sat anywhere but there. Eddie had kept to himself, only saying what he had to, avoiding Buck like he was contagious. And the thing was—there hadn’t been a fight. No blow-up. No awkward aftermath.

 

In fact, everything had felt… good. Better than good. They’d talked that morning, cleared the air. Then they'd gamed, laughed. Eddie had gone home to Chris. The next evening, the threesome had had dinner at Buck’s place, which had felt familiar. Easy. Normal.

 

But today? It was like someone had flipped a switch. Something had changed. It couldn’t be their scene—everything had been fine. There had to be something else and Buck couldn’t figure out what it was.

 

“Earth to Buckaroo,” Hen said, waving a hand in front of his face.

 

He blinked, snapping out of it. “Sorry. Zoned out. What were you saying?”

 

Hen studied him, head tilted slightly, as if trying to see into his mind. “I asked if everything’s okay with you and Eddie.”

 

“What? Yeah. Yeah, of course. Why?”

 

She didn’t say anything at first, just kept looking at him with that quiet, perceptive Hen kind of look. “You two are usually attached at the hip,” she said slowly, then pointedly looked around. “And today…”

 

Eddie wasn’t even on the same floor. Buck followed her gaze and frowned. He had no idea where he was.

 

Hen didn’t say anything right away. She just kept watching him in that quiet, knowing way that made Buck feel like his thoughts were printed across his forehead.

 

He sighed. “I don’t know,” he finally said, voice low. “We were fine. I mean—more than fine. And then today he’s... avoiding me.”

 

Hen hummed thoughtfully. “Did something happen?”

 

Buck hesitated. “No. I mean, not really.” He wasn’t sure if the pause gave him away.

 

Hen raised an eyebrow. “Not really?”

 

He gave a small shake of his head. “We talked. Cleared the air about… stuff.” He wasn’t lying, not exactly. Just leaving things out. Important things. The kind you couldn’t say out loud unless you were ready for everything to change.

 

“Then what do you think happened?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know,” he repeated, softer this time. “It’s like... he woke up and rewrote the rules and forgot to tell me.”

 

Hen leaned back, considering that. “Sometimes people freak out when things matter more than they expected,” she said gently. “Doesn’t mean it’s broken. Just means it’s real.”

 

Buck’s throat tightened. “Yeah. Well. Real hurts.”

 

Hen offered a small, sad smile. “Most things worth having do.”

 

Buck didn’t answer. He just stared at the screen again, the news still rolling, meaningless in the background. And somewhere out of sight, Eddie was still gone.

 

Before Hen could say more, her radio crackled. Chimney’s voice came through, a little harried: “Hen, you around? I could use a hand in the bay.”

 

She gave Buck one last glance, like she didn’t quite want to leave him, but then she stood. “Gotta go. You good?”

 

Buck nodded automatically. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 

She didn’t believe him, he could tell. But she didn’t push. She just patted his shoulder and jogged off.

 

The room felt heavier the second she was gone. Like the silence had weight.

 

Buck leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the TV without seeing it.

 

We were fine.

 

He ran the words over again and again, searching them for cracks. For lies. For something he missed. Eddie hadn’t flinched away from him. Hadn’t looked scared. He’d smiled, even. He’d relaxed.

 

And Buck had asked. Explicitly. That morning, in the soft quiet after everything, he’d asked if Eddie was okay. If Buck had crossed a line. If anything had felt wrong.

 

Eddie had said no. He’d said, “I’m good.”

 

So why the radio silence now?

 

Buck rubbed his face with both hands, trying to scrub the tightness from his chest. But it didn’t budge. Instead, a cold thread of panic wound its way through his gut.

 

What if he had pushed too far?

 

What if there had been a moment—tiny, quiet, invisible—where Eddie hadn’t felt safe and Buck missed it? What if he’d read the cues wrong? What if he’d been too focused on doing everything right that he hadn’t noticed something had gone wrong?

 

What if, without realizing, he’d hurt Eddie?

 

The thought made his stomach twist.

 

You’re not good at this, something mean inside him whispered. You play confident, but you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. You’re not like that—you don’t have the control, the steadiness. You ruin things. You always ruin things.

 

Buck swallowed hard, jaw clenched.

 

He’d been so careful. He’d asked for consent, over and over. Had checked in before, during, after. He’d listened.

 

So then why wouldn’t Eddie just talk to him?

 

That thought sparked something sharper. Angrier.

 

Because they always talked. That was their thing. No matter what was going on, they said it. Out loud. No games. No walls.

 

And Buck had asked—not just once. Multiple times. That morning. The next day. Today, during their shift. He’d even texted later that week when something felt off, asking again if everything was okay.

 

And Eddie had said yes. Every time.

 

So what the hell was Buck supposed to do now? Just sit here, slowly unraveling, while Eddie avoided him like the plague?

 

His fists tightened. Nails digging into his palms.

 

If something was wrong, Eddie should’ve said so.

 

They promised each other honesty.

 

*

 

The locker room was nearly empty when Buck walked in, the sound of his boots echoing against the tile. The shift was over, but he hadn’t rushed to change. He needed space. Air. Time to get his thoughts under control—he had never felt so insecure in his role as a dom before.

 

When he turned the corner, of course—of course—Eddie was still there, back to him, changing his shirt in that maddeningly calm way, like nothing was wrong.

 

But something was wrong. And he still couldn’t figure out what it was. Or why he seemed to be the only one going insane.

 

Buck didn’t mean to speak. Not really. But the words broke out, ragged and too loud in the stillness.

 

“Are you seriously gonna keep pretending everything’s fine?”

 

Eddie froze for a moment, before turning around, his t-shirt still half on, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What are you talking about?”

 

Buck scoffed out a laugh. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m imagining it. You’ve been avoiding me all shift.”

 

“I haven’t—”

 

“You wouldn’t even sit across from me in the engine!” Buck snapped, sounding utterly ridicoulous, but that was aside the point. “You barely talk to me unless you have to. And I—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “I just don’t understand.”

 

Eddie’s mouth opened, then closed.

 

Buck took a shaky breath, because he had tried his best to make everything good for Eddie. So, why did it not feel good for himself? His voice was softer when he said, “I asked you, Eddie. I asked you so many times if you were okay. If we were okay. If I did something wrong. You said everything's fine. So, what changed?”

 

Eddie looked away, swallowing visibly, his jaw working. He didn’t speak.

 

Buck stepped forward, his voice trembling now. “Because if I crossed a line, if I hurt you somehow, if I wasn’t—if I fucked it all up, just tell me. Don’t leave me hanging like this. You don’t get to shut down and pretend nothing happened while I spiral wondering if I ruined the most important thing in my life.”

 

Eddie flinched at that, and he looked back at Buck. Buck’s eyes were stinging now.

 

“I thought you trusted me.” And that was it. The thought that Eddie didn’t feel like he could speak to Buck anymore. It tore his heart apart.

 

“I do,” Eddie said, finally—quiet and fast, like he hadn’t meant to let it out. He looked past Buck at something in the bay. “I do trust you.”

 

“Then what is it?” Buck demanded, exhaustion taking over. “What did I do wrong?”

 

Eddie met his eyes again, and something in his gaze cracked. Vulnerability poured out of it.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he replied, voice soft. “That’s the problem.”

 

Buck stared at him, confused. “What do you mean, that’s the problem?”

 

Eddie let out a breath through his nose, like he was trying not to let it turn into something else—something messier. He turned away, leaned back against the lockers, crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated, more controlled this time. “You did everything right.”

 

“Okay,” Buck said slowly, still not understanding, still burning. “So why are you treating me like I’m radioactive?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed, like he was chewing on something too big to say.

 

Buck stepped even closer. “You don’t get to just leave me in the dark, man. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after last week.”

 

Eddie’s voice was low when it finally came. “Because I don’t know how to act normal around you right now.”

 

Buck blinked.

 

“I thought I could,” Eddie went on, still not looking at him. “Thought I could come in, do the job, joke around like always. But I can’t.” He let out a shaky breath. “I keep thinking about it. About the fact that you—That we—” He cut himself off, shook his head. “It was a line I didn’t think we’d cross. And we did. And now I’m… just trying to get my footing again.”

 

Buck stared at him. “So you’re avoiding me because you’re overwhelmed?”

 

Eddie winced, just slightly.

 

“You could’ve said that,” Buck said, quieter now, the anger cooling into something heavier. “You could’ve told me. Instead of making me think I messed up. That I wasn’t good enough. That I hurt you.”

 

Eddie finally looked at him, and Buck hated how wrecked he looked—like he’d been carrying something too heavy and didn’t know where to set it down.

 

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he said. “I’m just figuring it out. That’s all.”

 

“Well,” Buck said, stepping back, dragging a hand through his hair, “maybe next time, figure it out with me. That’s how this works.”

 

They stood in silence for a beat.

 

Eddie gave a short nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

 

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t closure. But it was honest. And suddenly it made sense.

 

“Eddie?”

 

“Yeah?” he hummed, finishing changing into his own clothes.

 

“Have you ever done something before with another guy before last week?”

 

Buck could see Eddie’s cheek warm. “Nope,” he said, slamming his locker shut. “See you tomorrow, Buck.” And then he was gone.

Chapter 3

Notes:

69 kudos should've inspired this chapter

it did not

Eddie was still shaking from his conversation with Buck. He had never meant for Buck to feel that way. He really hadn’t. He still couldn’t quiet grasp why Buck cared so much about being a good dom.

 

He massaged the shampoo into his head, a shuddering breath leaving his mouth. A year ago, he’d ask Marisol to join him in the shower. They’d have good shower sex and he’d feed her ice cream after.

 

Now… he was trying to get his mind to be as silent as it was that night with Buck. He didn’t want to think about Buck. He didn’t want to think about what it meant that he wanted more—needed more.

 

But he had hurt Buck. Buck had been on the verge of crying, and Eddie barely understood why. Why had he been so insecure? Why had he worried like that?

 

You don’t get to shut down and pretend nothing happened while I spiral wondering if I ruined the most important thing in my life.

 

The most important thing in Buck’s life… He must have exaggerated, right? Their friendship could not be the most important thing in his life.

 

Eddie sighed, standing under the stream of water.

 

“Dad!”

 

Another sight left Eddie’s mouth. He had expected to be able to take showers without interruptions now that Chris was a teenager.

 

“Yes, mijo?”

 

“Have you seen my sweatshirt?” Chris yelled back. “The green one.”

 

“Your closet, Chris.”

 

“I couldn’t find it, wait…”

 

Eddie could hear Chris walk back to his room, and then a muffled ‘found it!’. Which meant Eddie could go back to his thoughts.   

 

And Eddie knew it was a bad trait. He put everything in the box and put the lid on the box. And Frank had warned him several times now that the box would explode and not only take Eddie with it. Everyone around him would be blown up too.

 

But Eddie was not gay. He wasn’t. Why would he date women if he were gay? Why would he think they had beautiful eyes, or beautiful hair? Why would he choose ones that Chris really loved?

 

But Buck had beautiful eyes and beautiful hair too. And Chris loved him very much.

 

Eddie groaned, tilting his head upwards to the stream of water. He was not one for long showers, a trait he had picked up in the army, but today he could make an exception.

 

Day after day went by, and Eddie found his footing more and more. The night he had shared with Buck felt like a distant memory now. Something akin to a fever dream. A fluke in the system.

 

The days were filled with Cap’s ‘Buck, Eddie, saws and jaws’. Bets Buck and Eddie won at the 118. Fist-bumps. Eddie helping Buck cook for the team. Pranks they pulled off together. More fist-bumps. Dates with Christopher. Interesting facts tumbling from Buck’s lips. More fucking fist-bumps.

 

But Eddie felt alright with the fist-bumps, when he was alone at night he could give the scenarios a different ending. Ones where Buck yanked him forward, shoving his tongue down his throat. Others were Buck would push him into the maintenance closet and make Eddie suck his dick.

 

God. Eddie wanted to see Buck come. Even though Buck had had Eddie’s cum all over his hand and bed, Eddie had never seen Buck come. He wanted to know if Buck would curse, if he’d ramble, or if he’d go all slack faced and full body shudder.

 

The one thing Eddie couldn’t handle were Buck’s not so subtle days at the club. He’d come back full of energy, enthusiastic, bordering hyperactive. And Eddie hated it. He was jealous, which was not healthy, he knew that. He had asked for one scene with Buck, but he had also told him he didn’t want Buck to scene with anyone else.

 

And then Buck had the audacity to try to pawn him off to other doms?

 

Estúpido.

 

*

 

It started with one stupid question. One offhand remark from Hen while they all sat around the station kitchen table, too full from Chim’s terrible attempt at bulgogi to move and just bored enough to start talking. Cap was doing paperwork in his office, leaving the fivesome alone.

 

“So, Buck,” Hen said casually, stirring her tea. “What ever happened with that club you used to go to—you know, the one with...the ropes?”

 

Eddie didn’t look up from his coffee. He didn’t have to. The moment Hen opened that door, Buck practically lit up.

 

“Oh, you mean Crimson?”

 

Eddie wanted to stab something. Not someone—he wasn’t that far gone—but something. Like the table. Or the smug smile that was probably stretching across Buck’s face.

 

“Yeah,” Buck continued, “I still go. Not as often. It’s more of a release thing, you know? No expectations, no strings—well, except for the ones I use to tie people up.”

 

Hen laughed. Ravi blinked. Chim choked on his soda.

 

Ravi snapped his fingers, beaming. “That’s why you knew so much during that one case with the guy in the ropes!”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes. Of course Ravi remembered that. Of course Buck remembered everything about knots and bindings and—what, sensations?

 

Chim wheezed beside him, laughing loudly at Ravi’s face. Buck’s cheeks were a little red, but he was grinning—his soft, crinkly-eyed, real grin.

 

Eddie took a slow sip of coffee, mostly to keep from throwing the mug across the room.

 

“Do you always tie them up?” Ravis asked.

 

Eddie's eyes snapped to Ravi like daggers. The fuck was he asking that for? Why did he care what Buck did with his hands and who he did it to?

 

Buck smirked, eyes twinkling. “Depends on the day. But last week, for example...”

 

And then Buck was off. He was glowing, goddamn it. His voice animated, his hands sketching invisible lines in the air—talking about knots and patterns and some kind of suspension rig that sounded a hell of a lot like a sex swing if Eddie was being honest. Everyone leaned in, like they were watching a documentary narrated by a hot National Geographic host.

 

Eddie stayed back, focused on his coffee.

 

He tried not to listen.

 

He tried.

 

But Buck’s voice carried. Every detail of that night—the way the rope felt, the trust involved, the person he had tied, what he’d say to them—was like a hammer to Eddie’s skull.

 

He felt stupid.

 

Stupid for sitting there with his jaw tight and his stomach twisting like Buck’s precious knots. Stupid for the way his chest clenched when Buck smiled about that other guy—Ronan? Ronan the good boy?

 

He hated Ronan.

 

He didn’t even know Ronan.

 

He hated this feeling. Hated how Buck’s happiness—his openness, his damn glow when talking about another man—felt like a punch to the gut.

 

It should’ve been me.

 

It should’ve been me letting Buck take control. It should’ve been Buck whispering in my ear, hands on my skin, rope digging into my wrists.

 

Not fucking Ronan.

 

“Wait,” Ravi said, wide-eyed. “People you barely know just let you tie them up? Aren’t they afraid you’d, like… leave them there?”

 

Buck laughed, and Eddie wanted to bottle the sound just so he could throw it off a cliff.

 

“Nah, trust is kind of the whole point. Ronan’s great. He’s got these—”

 

“Wow,” Eddie suddenly said, the bitterness in his voice leaking out before he could stop it. “Sounds like you and Ronan had a real connection.”

 

Silence.

 

Hen raised an eyebrow. Chim blinked. Buck’s hands dropped, mid-gesture. His mouth opened slightly in surprise.

 

Eddie met his eyes, and if looks could kill, his would’ve leveled half of L.A.

 

Drop it, his stare said.

 

Buck didn’t speak for a second. Then—careful, tentative—he said, “Uh…he’s just a guy. It’s not like that.”

 

Right.

 

Eddie gave a tight, fake smile that felt like it might crack his face in half. “Good for you, Buck. Glad someone’s out there for you.”

 

He stood up, not waiting for a response, because if he stayed even one second longer, he was going to say something he couldn’t take back.

 

He walked out of the kitchen, fists clenched, heart a live wire.

 

This feeling? It was poison. It was him coming undone, one thread at a time, and all because Buck had smiled for someone who wasn’t him. Because Buck had tied someone else down and whispered things Eddie would never get to hear.

 

The green monster in his chest wasn’t just stirring anymore. It was screaming.

 

And the worst part?

 

Buck didn’t even know what he was doing to him.

 

*

 

Father Brian took a sip from his drink, the sunlight catching in his hair and making him look deceptively angelic. “You can bring him with you next time.”

 

Eddie groaned, forehead smushed against his arms on the café’s table. “Buck is not Catholic.”

 

Father Brian shrugged, casual. “Doesn’t matter. Everyone’s welcome.”

 

Eddie didn’t lift his head. “What should I say? ‘Hey, Buck, I’ve been yearning for your touch, want to come to church with me so Father Brian can tell me if you might feel the same?’”

 

Father Brian snorted into his cup. “Maybe...not with those exact words.”

 

Eddie finally looked up, shooting the priest a look somewhere between exasperation and desperation. “Doesn’t this bother you?”

 

“What doesn’t?”

 

“This. Me. Liking him. It’s a sin, right? I mean…”

 

Father Brian gave a thoughtful hum, taking another slow sip like he was choosing his words. “Religious people sin every day, Eddie. We lie. We judge. We eat too much cake when we’re supposed to fast.” He glanced pointedly at the half-eaten pastry on his plate. “It’s not really my job to weigh one sin heavier than another.”

 

That sounded suspiciously like I don’t give a fuck as you friend, but I can’t quiet say so as your priest.

 

Eddie exhaled hard, letting his head fall back down on his folded arms. He felt sixteen again—pining, twisted up inside, and terrified of his own heart. God, the things Buck did to him. Just existing.

 

“Isn’t that—”

 

Father Brian’s voice cut off and Eddie’s head whipped up. The priest hadn’t even finished his sentence. But Eddie already knew. Because Eddie was already used to the universe mocking him. He felt it like a chill down his spine.

 

The universe, in all its cruel timing, delivered Buck. Right at this moment, during his existential crisis.

 

And Buck was… Sweet Jesus.

 

Like a scene from a damn movie. Tank top clinging to sweat-slicked skin, hair tousled, a grin lighting up his entire face as he spotted them. He had earbuds in, phone strapped to his bicep, and he was glowing like a fucking Roman god.

 

Father Brian cleared his throat. Loudly. Eddie didn’t move, however, he was unable to rip his gaze away from Buck. Their eyes crossed, and a smile beamed on his face as he jogged towards them.

 

“Eddie,” Father Brian hissed.

 

Eddie blinked, shaking the trance his body seemed to be on. God. What a sight.

 

Oh, this was so bad. And embarrassing.

 

Buck waved, slowing his jog. “Hey!” he called, popping one earbud out and flashing that killer smile.

 

Eddie’s brain had short-circuited.

 

Buck turned to Father Brian, slightly sheepish. “Hi, I’m Buck. I work with Eddie. I’d offer a handshake but—” He held up his arms, drenched in sweat. “Sticky.”

 

Father Brian chuckled. “I’m Father Brian.”

 

“Oh! Father Brian, wow. Yeah, I’ve heard your name a few times—Cap and Eddie talk about you.”

 

Eddie could feel Father Brian’s slow turn in his direction. Buck might as well have said my soulmate never shuts up about you.

 

Trying to recover, Eddie cleared his throat. “What’re you doing out so early?”

 

Buck smiled again. Of course he did. That damn smile Could he fucking stop being brighter than the sun?

 

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d clear my head. I’m meeting Maddie and Chim later for breakfast. You should come! Hang out with us and Jee.”

 

“Oh, I,” Eddie shook his head. Which apparently wasn’t allowed, because Father Brian kicked him under the table. “I couldn’t impose,” he finished, glaring at Father Brian. “I’m gonna meet Hen and Karen later. Denny and Chris wanted to game some.”

 

Buck’s smile faltered a little. “Ah, bummer. Well, if you change your mind, text me, yeah?”

 

“Yeah. Sure. Totally.”

 

Buck looked at Father Brian again, polite and bright. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“You too, Buck,” the priest replied easily. “Maybe next time you could join Eddie—at church.”

 

Eddie froze. His heart leapt into his throat like it wanted to escape.

 

Buck blinked. “Oh. Uh…yeah. Sure. Why not?”

 

Eddie felt the ground shift under him.

 

“Great,” Father Brian said, not missing a beat.

 

Buck jogged off, earbuds back in, giving them one last wave. Eddie watched the sweat glisten on his arms as he disappeared down the block.

 

Father Brian whistled low. “You really are in love.”

 

Eddie glared at him, the kind of glare Buck called his ‘stank face’.

 

“At least now you have an opening to invite him to church,” the priest added, far too smug for a man of God.

 

Eddie groaned and slammed his head back into his arms. Why was the universe against him?

 

*

 

Buck: yo lmk if u wanna hang

 

The air smelled like sunscreen and charcoal. Mara shrieked with laughter as she chased a soap bubble the size of her head, darting past Eddie where he sat stiffly on a patio chair. The umbrella above offered shade, but it didn’t help his rising body temperature.

 

Hen handed him a glass of lemonade and took the chair across from him, throwing one leg over the other like she was settling in for a show.

 

Eddie hadn’t even opened his mouth and already regretted agreeing to come over.

 

“I’m just saying,” Hen started casually, “you’ve looked like someone dumped a bucket of ice down your shirt since you walked in.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“Mhm.”

 

He sipped the cold, tart lemonade. Better than sweating through another hour at home.

 

“It’s just been… a day.”

 

Hen tilted her head. “Did Buck jog shirtless again? Because you know, I’ve been saying someone needs to ticket that man for public safety violations.”

 

Eddie nearly choked. Of all the things that could have happened today that was what she was going for? Seriously?

 

“No. Shirt was on.”

 

“Tank top?”

 

He glared. Had Buck posted something on social media again?

 

Hen grinned. “So, a crime was still committed.”

 

“I was getting something to drink with Father Brian,” he explained lamely.

 

Hen clicked her tongue. “You poor thing. You were just trying to have a quiet existential crisis in public and boom—hottest man alive jogs up, smiling like it’s his job.”

 

“It is his job,” Eddie muttered.

 

Hen laughed. “Touché.”

 

He dropped his head back with a sigh. The sky was too blue. Everything was too bright. Buck’s sweat-slicked face had been seared into his brain, and the fact that he had agreed—so casually—to come to church? It was doing things to Eddie’s nerves he didn’t have names for.

 

“He said yes,” Eddie said again, quieter.

 

Hen blinked slowly. “To…?”

 

“Coming to church. With me. Father Brian asked.”

 

“And you didn’t spontaneously combust? Proud of you.”

 

“I almost did.”

 

“Ah. There it is.”

 

The screen door creaked open behind them and Karen stepped out, hands full with a tray of fruit and chips.

 

“Hen’s still teasing you about your husband?”

 

Eddie froze. “He’s not—” He choked. “He’s not my—what?”

 

Karen blinked innocently, setting the tray down. “Your friendship. Sorry. Your friendship is just so beautiful. Honestly, at one point I really thought you were a couple.”

 

Hen bit down on a grape to muffle her laughter.

 

Eddie looked like he’d swallowed a grenade. “Why would you think that?”

 

Karen shrugged. “I don’t know! You’re comfortable. He stares at you like you put the stars in the sky. You do that grumpy-soft thing when he walks into a room. It was a vibe.”

 

“I don’t do a grumpy-soft thing,” Eddie snapped.

 

Hen raised a brow. “You absolutely do.”

 

“I do not. I don’t even know what that means.”

 

Karen popped a grape into her mouth and said, “Anyway, I know now that it’s just deep platonic devotion. With longing. And maybe repressed desire.”

 

Hen coughed so hard she had to put her drink down.

 

Eddie stood up. Sat back down. His brain short-circuited. “This is insane. You’re both insane.”

 

“We’re married,” Karen said sweetly. “We recognize these things.”

 

Mara squealed again in the background. From inside, there was a loud “YES!” — either Denny or Christopher had just won whatever game they were playing.

 

Hen nudged his foot with hers. “Look, we’re not saying anything you don’t already know.”

 

“I don’t know anything,” Eddie grumbled.

 

Karen grinned. “That’s okay. Sometimes denial is just the scenic route to acceptance.”

 

Hen laughed and added, “You’re practically on a gay pilgrimage.”

 

“I hate both of you.”

 

“Only because we’re right.”

 

He didn’t answer. Mostly because his brain was busy looping every frame of Buck running up to him like a golden retriever dipped in honey and sunbeams. Which was… weird. He knew that, okay?

 

Hen watched him for a moment longer, her voice going softer. “Just… let yourself feel whatever it is, Eddie. Nobody’s judging you. Least of all us.”

 

Eddie didn’t lift his head, but he didn’t pull away from the words either.

 

Karen tossed a grape at him, hitting him in the chest. “And if you do bring him to church, at least wear something that says ‘God’s favorite mess’ so the congregation knows what we’re dealing with.”

 

Eddie groaned, grabbing his phone, it was buzzing again. Which could only mean one thing.

 

Buck: u home yet

 

Buck: jee is down and these ppl are weird

 

Buck: edsssss

 

Buck: eddieeeeeee

 

Buck: dont ignore me prick

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was impossible to suppress.

 

Eddie: Those people are your sister and brother-in-law

 

Buck: hence the weirdness

 

Buck: where are u?

 

Eddie: Still at Hen and Karen’s

 

Buck: omw

 

Eddie stared at his screen for a moment. Then he looked up, but Hen and Karen were already looking at him. Eddie suddenly felt that he was smiling the brightest of smiles and immediately dropped it.

 

“Who were you talking to, Eddie?” Hen asked, not even trying to hide her smile. Both she and Karen were already staring at him like cats that’d caught the scent of something deeply entertaining.

 

“Buck’s apparently coming over,” he replied.

 

Karen lifted an eyebrow. “Here?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Karen smiled. “He missed you, huh?”

 

Hen made a faux-sweet voice. “Guess he couldn’t bear to be without his emotional support firefighter.”

 

Eddie gave them both a look. “God,” he muttered. “You two are relentless.”

 

“We are,” Karen agreed cheerfully, then added, “It’s a coping mechanism. Helps when your new neighbor won’t stop texting your wife weird memes.”

 

Hen laughed. “Okay, he sent me one weird raccoon video. And I didn’t even open it.”

 

“You showed me!” Karen said. “The raccoon was in a suit!”

 

“I thought it was a monkey in a suit.”

 

“See, and that’s why I opened it. I was curious.”

 

Eddie could do nothing but smile affectionally at them. Hen and Karen were the best. They were such a wonderful power couple, two geniuses and they were raising two kids.

 

The doorbell rang a moment later.

 

Eddie practically levitated.

 

“I’ll get it,” he muttered, already halfway there.

“Oh, okay, Speedy Gonzales,” Karen called.

 

Eddie opened the door and there stood Buck on the porch. Black t-shirt, dark jeans, boots. Easy smile. Blinding, blue eyes. Shining birthmark above his eye.

 

“Hey,” Buck said, casual as anything.

 

Eddie blinked. “Hey.”

 

Buck lifted a book in his hand and then lifted the other hand with a plate of cookies. They seemed to be homemade.

 

Eddie stepped aside at last—why had he been hovering?—and let Buck inside. “We’re in the garden. Kids are in the living room.” He grabbed the plate from Buck and put a cookie in his mouth.

 

Buck slapped his hand. “Bring it to the women of the house first, you animal.”

 

Eddie grinned at him, crumbs of cookie on his lips. Buck’s eyes latched onto them, and for a moment Eddie held his breath. But Buck didn’t mean anything with it, because he shook his head, grinning, and walked off to greet the kids. Eddie made his way back to Hen and Karen.

 

“Ah, he brought cookies,” Karen commented. “I love Buck’s cookies.”

 

Hen grabbed another chair for Buck, placing it next to Eddie’s.

 

“Hello, hello,” Buck greeted, waving as he walked out of the house.

 

Karen waved back. “There he is. The man, the myth, the—probably about to be roasted mercilessly by Hen.”

 

“Only if he deserves it,” Hen said, standing to take the book. “And spoiler alert: he usually does.” She looked the book over. “Ah, Chim finally found it?”

 

Buck grinned, about to respond, when his phone buzzed. He glanced down—and his whole expression shifted.

 

“Shit. Sorry,” he muttered, already backing toward the door. “I gotta go. Something came up.”

 

Eddie stood. “Wait—what? Everything okay?”

 

Buck paused at the doorway, face unreadable. “It’s… complicated. Not an emergency, just—someone had a bad experience.”

 

“Can we do something?” Hen asked, he teasing voice nowhere to be found. Even Karen stood up, worry etched on her face.

 

“No, uh, I’ll uh, I’ll handle it,” Buck replied. “Sorry. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

 

Eddie followed Buck to the door. “A bad experience where?”

 

Buck hesitated. Then gave Eddie a look that was somehow both apologetic and intensely avoidant. “It’s club stuff. I’ll explain later.”

 

Eddie blinked. “Club?”

 

“Yeah. I gotta go.” Buck was already opening the front door. Then he was gone, disappearing down the walk like a ghost who’d dropped a riddle and vanished.

 

Eddie closed the door slowly, gently. Too gently. Like if he moved carefully enough, his heart wouldn’t punch through his ribcage.

 

Club stuff?

 

What the hell did that mean?

 

He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at the floor like it might start explaining things. His brain immediately lit a flare:

 

CRIMSON.

 

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Walked back to the garden like someone walking away from a crime scene.

 

Karen was refilling her drink. Hen was scrolling on her phone. Both of them looked up at him in tandem.

 

“Well?” Hen asked.

 

“He said someone had a bad experience,” Eddie muttered, sitting back down.

 

Karen raised an eyebrow. “What kind of experience?”

 

“I don’t know,” Eddie snapped. “He said it was ‘club stuff.’”

 

There was a pause. Hen’s face did a thing. Karen’s face mimicked her.

 

And Eddie shouldn’t care. He really shouldn’t. He had no right to care. But…

 

But he didn’t like the club, so Buck and him didn’t talk about it anymore. Every time he had, Eddie stiffened so hard he nearly cracked a vertebra. And Buck just never mentioned it again.

 

And now?

 

Now he had left them—left him—to go comfort some… stranger? Some emotionally fragile, strap-happy stranger who maybe wanted to be held. Or choked. Or both. Or who couldn’t handle their emotions and wanted for their guts to be rearranged?

 

And Buck had left them for some stranger?

 

Eddie’s knee started bouncing. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Hen tilted her head, clocking it instantly. “Everything okay there, champ?”

 

Karen sipped from her wine and gestured vaguely. “He's spiraling. You can tell by the knee.”

 

“I’m not spiraling.”

 

“Oh, sweetie.” Karen put her glass down and leaned in with faux sincerity. “He said ‘club stuff’ and your soul left your body. What do you think it means?”

 

“I don’t know!” Eddie exploded. Then dropped his voice because the kids were still in the living room, giggling over whatever cartoon they had on. “I’m not—” he hissed, then stopped himself.

 

“This is a perfect example of what people do when they hear something they don’t like from the person they’re emotionally married to,” Karen commented.

 

“Stop.”

 

“No, no,” Hen said, eyes gleaming. “Let’s unpack this.”

 

“There’s nothing to unpack!” Eddie stood up so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “I’m getting more juice for the kids,” he said stiffly.

 

“Get some wine for yourself too, babe,” Karen called after him. “You need it.”

 

He didn’t respond. He was already halfway to the kitchen, muttering under his breath about how Buck was an idiot, and Hen was evil, and Karen was worse.

 

And he was fine.

 

Completely. Totally. Fine.

 

*

 

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as fine as he’d thought.

 

The kids had begged for a sleepover all pleading faces and matching puppy eyes. Eddie had caved with a sigh and a wave of his hand. Hen and Karen had been game, already planning snacks and movie lineups.

 

It also left him alone.

 

He got home to silence. An empty house. No Chris. No Buck. No TV humming in the background. Just quiet.

 

And in the quiet, his thoughts got loud. Unruly. Sharp-edged.

 

He tried to sit still. Tried to sleep. Tried to ignore the text Buck had sent hours ago: We’ll talk later.

 

About what?

 

About the club?

 

About the someone?

 

His mind spun like a carousel of worst-case scenarios—Buck's hands on someone else, Buck’s mouth on someone else, Buck offering that safe, soft smile he kept just for Eddie to someone who hadn’t earned it.

 

Which is how he found himself banging on Buck’s door at 2.30 AM like lunatic.

 

The door creaked open. Buck stood there, half-asleep and blinking, tousle-haired and shirtless, wearing only his boxers. Confused. Beautiful.

 

Eddie did what any insane person would do.

 

He didn’t think.

 

Didn’t ask.

 

Didn’t explain.

 

He grabbed Buck by the shoulders, shoved him gently back inside, and kissed him.

 

Hard.

 

Desperate.

 

Chapter 4

Notes:

i've literally never written this fast lol it’s probably the serotonine from all your awesome comments!!

Buck had been fuming when he got home. Not the simmering, quiet kind of anger—no, this was volcanic. The kind that pulsed behind his eyes and made his skin feel too tight. The only reason he hadn’t torn the city apart with his bare hands was because he’d stayed focused. For her. Selina.

 

She was one of the subs at Crimson. Sweet, soft-spoken, always careful with her words. Buck had talked with her a handful of times, enough that she smiled easily when she saw him, enough that she once joked he made her feel safer just by being in the same room. That stuck with him.

 

He’d been part of the Crimson emergency dom pool for over a year now. Every day he wasn’t at the firehouse, he was technically on call. Usually, the texts were harmless. Requests for check-ins (Code Green), emotional regulation (Code Yellow), someone needing a grounding voice during a panic spiral (Code Orange).

 

But not tonight.

 

The text had pinged right as he had wanted to get comfortable at Hen and Karen’s house.

 

SOS: Code Black.

 

His blood had run cold.

 

Code Black was the worst Crimson ever sent. It wasn’t a safe word. It was an alarm bell. A sub had been hurt—abused—and Crimson needed someone now.

 

Selina’s case was the worst Buck had seen. Her arm was snapped at an unnatural angle. Her face—God, her face. Purple bruises bloomed across her cheekbones and jaw, her lip split clean through. She hadn’t spoken when he arrived, hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even blinked. Buck had seen that kind of stillness before at accident sites, when victims were too deep in shock to register pain.

 

He’d done a quick assessment, keeping his voice low, grounding. Only when his fingers brushed hers, gentle and careful,did her body finally seem to register him. And then the dam broke.

 

Sobs. Gut-wrenching, soul-splintering cries as she curled into him like she was trying to disappear. Buck had held her for over an hour, whispering reassurances she probably couldn’t even hear. He gave her the aftercare she should’ve gotten—the kind every dom worth the name would’ve insisted on.

 

And then he saw him. The dom responsible.

 

Drunk. Arrogant. Still trying to justify what he'd done. How had he even gotten past security like that? Buck barely remembered lunging, but it had taken two of his fellow doms to hold him back before he cracked the bastard’s jaw open.

 

He should’ve. He still might.

 

That fucker would pay. One way or another.

 

By the time Buck stumbled into his apartment, it was after midnight. He was running on fumes. Clothes hit the floor in a trail from the door to the bed, and he collapsed face-first into the mattress, too wired to sleep but too drained to move.

 

Which was why, when the pounding on his door came a few hours later—two, maybe three—he jolted upright, heart jackhammering. His brain immediately went to retaliation. A consequence. The dom’s friends? Someone from Crimson? Had something happened to Selina again?

 

He ran down the stairs and yanked open the door— And froze as he saw a pair of familiar, brown eyes.

 

Eddie.

 

Standing there in a hoodie and jeans, hair mussed like he’d either been sleeping or dragging his fingers through it nonstop. His eyes were wide, searching Buck’s face like he was afraid he’d find something broken. His eyes dragged over Buck body, as if looking for injuries  

 

Buck barely had time to register him, much less ask where Christopher was or why the hell Eddie was here at 3 a.m., before Eddie stepped inside, grabbed Buck’s neck, and kissed him. It was fierce and desperate and full of something Buck couldn’t name, but felt right down to his marrow.

 

Buck thought he deserved some recognition for pulling back after a few heartbeats. He gasped slightly, trying to make sense of what was happening. Then he made the fatal mistake of looking at Eddie’s face.

 

His bruised lips. His brown eyes that looked straight into Buck’s soul. The soft strand of hair that fell over his forehead. It was the way he looked at him, however, that was the worst of it all. Buck could only describe it as raw.

 

And he felt himself snap. He kicked the door shut, shoved Eddie back against it, and kissed him again—deeper, rougher this time. Buck didn’t know who moved first this time, if Eddie tugged him closer or if Buck pressed harder, but suddenly their bodies were flush, heat rising between them like wildfire. Eddie’s hands slid into his hair, fingers clenching like he needed something to hold onto, and Buck let him. Hell, Buck needed it too.

 

There was nothing careful about it. This wasn’t slow, or soft, or questioning. It was a crash. A collision.

 

Buck’s hands gripped Eddie’s hips, dragging him even closer, chest to chest, heart to heart. They were breathing each other’s exhales like it was oxygen.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered against Buck’s mouth.

 

And somehow, that was what broke the spell for Buck. He let go off Eddie and stepped back, creating enough space between them for Buck to use his brain instead of his dick. Or his heart.

 

Eddie didn’t though, he stepped closer to Buck again, clearly not in his right mind—because why would he want to kiss Buck?

 

“Eddie, stop.”

 

Eddie didn’t listen, his eyes searching Buck’s. “You’re shaking.”

 

Buck hadn’t even noticed. But now that Eddie said it, yeah, his fingers were trembling. From adrenaline. From fury. From grief and guilt and too many things piled up inside him with no place to go.

 

Eddie reached up, cupping the side of Buck’s face, thumb brushing beneath his eye like he expected to find tears. “What happened tonight?”

 

Buck let out a breath, chest heaving. “A Code Black.”

 

“What does that mean?” Eddie asked softly, his eyes turned sad however, like he knew it was bad.

 

Buck swallowed.

 

“Her arm was broken, man. Her face… She didn’t even flinch when I touched her. Not at first.” Buck could see Selina sitting, staring at nothing, again as he recalled what had happened.   

 

Eddie’s whole body tensed. “Jesus, Buck.”

 

“I gave her the aftercare,” Buck said, voice cracking despite his effort to keep it level. “Held her through the breakdown. Stayed with her until she calmed down enough to go to the hospital. The dom who did it—he was drunk, Eddie. I almost—” Buck laughed, humorless and bitter. “I nearly beat him unconscious in front of the staff.”

 

“I wish you had,” Eddie muttered, jaw clenched.

 

“I wanted to,” Buck said, quieter now. “But I couldn’t. Because I was needed elsewhere.”

 

Eddie rested his forehead against Buck’s, both of them breathing heavy. “You are amazing.”

 

Buck exhaled.

 

They stood there in the silence for a beat too long, just holding each other up. Then Eddie spoke, voice low and firm: “Come here.” He took Buck’s hand and walked them to the bed. No rush. No pressure. Just gravity, and the silent understanding between them that whatever this was—it was an exception. A fluke in the system.

 

Eddie sat on the edge of the bed and tugged Buck between his knees, resting his head against Buck’s stomach, arms around his waist. Buck stood there, hands threading through Eddie’s hair, grounding himself in the closeness. In him.

 

Minutes passed, maybe more. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to.

 

Eventually, Eddie looked up. “Lie down with me.”

 

Buck nodded, swallowing hard.

 

They laid down tangled together, Eddie’s hand pressed flat over Buck’s heart like he could shield it. And maybe he could.

 

Buck didn’t fall asleep for a while. But when he did, it was the first time that night he felt at ease.

 

*

 

Okay, so maybe Buck had fled his own apartment.

 

Which was ridiculous. Cowardly. Honestly pathetic. He knew it. But that didn’t stop him from slipping out of bed before the sun had even fully risen heart hammering like he’d just outrun a call gone wrong.

 

All because Eddie had kissed him. Eddie. And when he woke up Eddie had been asleep in his bed, curled into Buck’s side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Mumbling softly in his sleep. And the sight was too adorable. It tugged at the strings of his heart, as if to mock him that this wasn’t real. It didn’t mean anything.

 

Buck was slowly unravelling again, turning into a fucking mess.  Because it had felt like they’d finally found their rhythm again—like they'd shaken off the awkwardness and hesitations since that night. Eddie had been laughing again. Teasing. Showing up for coffee without a reason and staying too long without an excuse.

 

And now he had kissed Buck. And Buck had kissed him back. Which was reason for Buck to not be able to breath. He couldn’t go through all of that again. Not another chapter of "maybe" and "what if" and just kidding, Buck, it didn’t mean anything.

 

So yeah. He fled, hoping that Eddie would be gone when he came back and they could just forget the kiss. It was a low moment, even for him. He’d never run from his own damn apartment before. Other people’s? Sure. But not his.

 

He ended up at the café around the block—the same one where he’d seen Eddie with Father Brian yesterday, like fate just couldn’t stop looping them together. Buck grabbed a large coffee and didn’t even drink it. Just sat there with it, staring into space like it might explain Eddie’s mouth on his last night.

 

Then he ran. Hard. No destination, just pounding the pavement like it could shake loose the chaos in his head. He played with dogs at the park, laughing when one started to lick his face. Bought a kid a replacement ice cream cone after hers hit the pavement—who even gave a kid ice cream this early?—and praised her for not bawling like it was the end of the world. Chatted with some of the older neighbors who remembered him from his first month in the building and still called him “the cute firefighter with too much energy.”

 

And by the time it was past eleven, he deemed it safe enough to go back home and take a long shower. He could pretend it hadn’t happened. Chalk it up to a bad night, adrenaline, confusion—anything but what it might actually mean.

 

But when Buck opened the door, all his hope evaporated. Eddie was sitting at the kitchen table like he belonged, mug of coffee in one hand, book in the other. He looked annoyingly calm, not at all what Buck had expected. The whole image was very… domestic.

 

He looked up with a quiet “Hey.”

 

Buck blinked, thrown. “Hey. Thought you might’ve gone home by now.” The words came out before he could think about them. Very tactless. He winced even as they left his mouth.

 

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “Thought maybe we could talk. Didn’t want to leave you alone after last night. You seemed pretty shaken up.”

 

Buck shrugged, walking to the fridge to get some water, so he’d have something to do with his hands. “Yeah. Fine now, though. Thanks.”

 

Eddie nodded slowly, eyes tracking Buck’s every movement. His face did that thing again, where he was trying to figure something out. “Made fresh coffee,” he offered. “In case you want some.”

 

Buck drained the water bottle in one go, crushed it and tossed it in the bin like it had done something wrong. “I’m good,” he replied, muttering. “Gonna take a shower.”

 

And with that, he turned and walked straight to the bathroom, pulse hammering in his throat. He didn’t slam the door behind him, but he wanted to. Not out of anger, out of sheer panic.

 

The second it clicked shut, Buck braced his hands on the edge of the sink and stared at his reflection. He looked… haunted. Like someone had cracked him open and he hadn’t figured out how to close the wound yet.

 

“Get it together,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. He turned the water on, let the steam build until the mirror fogged and the sound gave him something else to focus on. Then he stripped, stepped under the hot spray, and let it scald the what-ifs from his skin.

 

Only, it didn’t work.

 

Because now he was just standing naked in the shower, replaying that kiss in his mind like a song he couldn’t turn off. The heat of Eddie’s mouth. The quiet desperation of it. The way Buck had kissed him back without thinking, without hesitation. Like his body had been waiting for that exact moment all along.

 

And then? He ran.

 

“Coward,” he whispered to himself, scrubbing at his hair like he could get the memory out that way. But it clung to him, in every pore. The way Eddie had looked at him in the moonlight. The way he hadn’t pulled back, even when Buck had flinched after. The way he’d stayed. And now he was still here. Sitting in Buck’s kitchen. Drinking coffee like this was something they did.

 

Well… it was actually something they had done for years.

 

Buck let the water wash over him one last time before he shut it off, grabbed a towel, and stood there dripping, his heart still racing like during his run.

 

When he emerged, dressed in sweats and an old tee, Eddie hadn’t moved. Still reading, though his eyes flicked up as Buck crossed the room and hovered uncertainly near the doorway. In his own damn home.

 

Eddie closed the book with a quiet thump, set it aside.

 

“I’m not sorry,” he said.

 

Buck’s heart stopped. “What?”

 

“I’m not sorry I kissed you.”

 

The silence between them stretched like a wire about to snap. Buck shifted his weight, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he could physically hold himself together.

 

“You should be,” he said, but it came out quiet. Tired. “Because I—I can’t do this again, Eds. The back and forth. The almosts. It messes with my head.”

 

“I know,” Eddie replied. “That’s why I stayed. I didn’t want to run this time.”

 

Buck flinched at that, because yeah, he was the one who ran this time.

 

“I don’t know what this is,” Buck said, voice cracking on the edges. “And I don’t know what you want from me.”

 

“I want…” Eddie hesitated, then stood slowly, like he wasn’t sure how close he could get. He seemed to be looking for something in Buck’s face, before he opened his mouth again. “I want to scene with you again. Make the contract long term.”

 

Buck’s breath caught in his throat. For a long moment, all he could do was stare.

 

“Say something,” Eddie said, quiet now, unsure for the first time.

 

“I’m not sure, Eddie,” Buck finally said. Because he really wasn’t. He wanted to scene with Eddie, God knew how badly he wanted to do anything with Eddie. But Eddie was… fragile. Buck had been his first sexual interaction with a guy and he hadn’t been able to look at him for weeks. Now that he finally had his best friend back, he couldn’t lose him again.

 

Eddie’s face was crestfallen.

 

“Look, I—” Buck started, raking a hand through his damp hair. He sighed. “I’m just scared this is going to mess up our friendship. Especially after… Well, after how you handled last time.”

 

Eddie nodded slowly, not looking away from Buck’s eyes. “I know,” he said finally. “And I promise this time will be different.”

 

Buck looked at him, really looked at him—at the steady weight of Eddie’s gaze, at the quiet confidence holding back a flood of nerves behind his eyes. And then he kept staring some more, like maybe if he looked long enough, he’d figure out whether this was safe.

 

“You don’t get to ask for that like it’s nothing,” he said, voice low now. Not angry, just… honest. “You ghosted me, Eddie. After I gave you everything you asked for. After you let me in and then slammed the door shut in my face.”

 

Eddie looked down. “I know. I messed up.”

 

“You didn’t just mess up.” Buck’s arms uncrossed, hands curling into fists at his sides. “You left me hanging in the middle of something I didn’t even know we had. And now you’re here talking about a long-term contract like it’s a casual follow-up.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said again, quieter. “It wasn’t casual to me. I just… couldn’t face it. Couldn’t face you.”

 

Buck exhaled sharply. “That’s not how this works, Eds. You don’t get to ask for submission and then walk away when it gets too real. That scene—I took care of you. I gave you space to fall apart. And you never gave me the courtesy of even a real conversation after. The rules, the aftercare it’s for you, as it is as much for me. For any dom.”

 

Eddie’s throat bobbed. He didn’t argue. “I know.”

 

“So why now?” Buck asked, voice measured. “Why show up today, sit at my table, ask for me again? What changed?”

 

Eddie took a breath, then another. “I… missed it. Missed how I felt. Safe. Head empty. I knew you’d take care of me. And I realized the reason I ran was because it did mean something. I was scared of what that said about me. About how much I wanted it.” He swallowed, looking away for a heartbeat. But when he opened his mouth again, he looked straight into Buck’s eyes, clearly trying to win him over. “But I’m not here to pretend I know what happens next. Or to ask you for more than you’re willing to give.”

 

Buck stepped closer, gaze sharp. “You don’t get to steer this, Eddie.”

 

Eddie nodded, eyes dropping. “I’m not trying to.”

 

“This is on my terms. You want back in, you earn it. You don’t decide when or how this goes. I do.”

 

“I understand.” Eddie’s voice was soft, but steady. There was a flicker of something vulnerable in his posture—his shoulders slightly dropped, chin lowered, waiting.

 

Buck studied him, breath still heavy with too many emotions he hadn’t sorted yet.

 

“Good,” he said finally. “Then if we do this, it starts slow. You show up. You stay. You listen. And you rebuild what you broke. I’m not going to hand you control of anything until I know I can trust you again.”

 

Eddie’s lips parted, breath catching. Then he nodded once, reverently.

 

“I need verbal confirmation, Eddie.”

 

Eddie’s lips parted at those words. He licked his lips, before saying, “Yes, Buck. Anything.”

 

And just like that, some of the tension in Buck’s spine eased.

 

*

 

Buck had chosen cruelty. Not out of malice, but as a test. Measured. Intentional. Calculated to scrape at the edges of Eddie’s pride and see just how far he’d go. How much he meant it when he said he wanted a second chance.

 

Because the truth was, Buck hadn’t only doubted their friendship after what happened the first time—he’d doubted himself. And that kind of doubt? It came from a place so bleak, so hollow, so dark Buck had clawed his way out of it once and swore he’d never return.

 

So, if Eddie really wanted back in, really wanted him, he had to earn it. Not with words. Not with sweet eyes or soft touches. But through silence. Obedience. Endurance. Push through every ridiculous command Buck threw at him.

 

So far? Eddie hadn’t failed.

 

He’d followed every humiliating instruction to the letter. Arrived before every shift. Dropped to his knees just inside the door. Stayed there—still, quiet, waiting—for twenty whole minutes, no matter how long Buck made him. Each time, before they left, he’d whisper the mantra Buck had given him, voice unwavering: “I will not run. I will serve with presence. I will not ask before I earn.”

 

Eddie was not allowed to speak to Buck without his permission. He was not allowed to touch Buck. He wasn’t even allowed to look at Buck.

 

On the first day, Buck had handed him a brown leather journal. No explanations. Just a look. Eddie had opened it and understood—he was expected to write every day. About his failure. His wants. His cravings. His shame. His thoughts. His desires.

 

Buck knew Eddie wanted him to read it, expect him to read it. And Buck hadn’t read a single word.

 

It was part of the silence. Cold, unrelenting silence. No sweet names. No grounding touches. No brush of fingers through his hair. Buck barely looked at him. Didn’t speak unless it was a command.

 

And the final cruelty, the one Buck knew wouldn’t even hurt the most: no orgasms.

 

But Eddie didn’t lash out. Didn’t beg. Didn’t even try to sneak a touch during their shifts. He wore the distance like penance, quiet and dutiful. It stunned Buck, honestly. Because Eddie was the guy who thrived on closeness. On connection. On touch. And here he was—taking his punishment with nothing but grace and grit.

 

They both knew this was something private. Just between the two of them. No one knew about that first time, and no one would know about Eddie’s punishment and what was waiting for him if he had earned Buck’s trust back.

 

Eddie was a probie. Again. And Buck was going to make damn sure he earned every inch of trust back.

 

The apartment was quiet when Eddie arrived, just like it had been all week. Same ritual. Same time.

 

Buck was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the news on his tablet. He didn’t acknowledge Eddie, who stepped inside, locked the door and dropped to his knees just inside the threshold. Palms flat on his thighs. Eyes down. Not a sound out of him.

 

He wasn’t allowed to. And he knew it.

 

Buck ignored the tightness in his chest and kept his eyes on the screen, pretending to read. He’d seen dozens of men and women kneel before. Dozens who had submitted with eager eyes and open mouths. But this?

 

This was Eddie.

 

And Eddie was different. Special.

 

Buck knew Eddie inside out. He knew the storm behind the quiet. Knew how much this silence cost him. Knew that under all that stillness was a man desperate to be acknowledged, to be touched.

 

One of Eddie’s love languages was physical touch. Buck had learned that the night he discovered just how much this stoic, ex-military man could melt at a graze of fingers or hand in his hair. How he always seemed to grab Buck’s shoulder in serious moments where he had to make sure Buck understood him, even if he didn't understand himself.

 

So, Buck refrained from touching him.

 

After a few minutes of staring at the screen but not reading anything, he opened his mouth. “You’re late,” he said, voice calm. Like a man commenting on the weather. “Three minutes.”

 

He still didn’t look at Eddie. But he’d noticed. Of course, he had. Every tick of those three minutes had scraped against his nerves, whispering maybe he’s not coming. Maybe he had pushed too hard already.

 

“I—”

 

“Ah, ah.” Buck’s voice snapped like a whip, his eyes finally lifting to pin Eddie in place. “I don’t believe I gave you permission to speak.”

 

Eddie went still, the obedience in him immediate and involuntary. He quickly looked down again. Fuck, that was hot.

 

Buck pushed up from the table, the scrape of the chair loud in the quiet. He circled Eddie once, slow and deliberate, then stopped behind him and leaned down until his mouth hovered near Eddie’s ear.

 

“You think three minutes don’t matter?” he asked, his voice low and close. “That I wouldn’t notice?”

 

A visible shiver ran down Eddie’s spine and Buck could see him swallow. “No, sir,” he answered softly.

 

“You don’t get to be casual here,” Buck said, straightening. “Not after what you did.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Silence stretched. Buck watched him. Measured the tension in his shoulders. The way he resisted the urge to shift.

 

“Say it,” Buck ordered.

 

Eddie took a shaky breath, but his voice was firm. “I will not run. I will serve with presence. I will not ask before I earn.”

 

God, it burned on Buck’s tongue to reward him for it. To praise him. But he held back. He had to. Not yet.

 

Instead, he stepped around to face him. “Look at me.”

 

Eddie’s eyes snapped up, and Buck saw it—that flicker of surprise. There was no anger on Buck’s face.

 

He crouched, bringing himself just above Eddie’s eye-level. He was keeping the power, the control. Eddie still had to look up at him.

 

“I’m rebuilding something here,” he said. “And you don’t get to waltz in and act like nothing broke. You begged to kneel, and then vanished like it meant nothing.”

 

Eddie’s mouth parted to speak, but Buck didn’t let him.

 

“I’m speaking. You don’t get to.”

 

Eddie’s mouth clicked shut.

 

“I know you panicked,” Buck continued, voice calm. “But panic doesn’t erase consequences. You want back in? You follow my pace. No scenes. No touching. No pleasure. Just obedience.” Buck had repeated the same thing several times this week. And yet, it was a good reminder. For the both of them.

 

Eddie’s nod was instant. Firm. His cheeks flushed pink, but his eyes didn’t waver.

 

“You might think you understand,” Buck murmured. “But you don’t. You don’t get to ask me for what you want. You show up. You serve. That’s it.”

 

He studied him for a long beat. Eddie looked right back, somehow relieved. Buck didn’t understand why.

 

“Palms up.”

 

Eddie obeyed instantly, lifting his hands in offering. Buck put a dog tag in his hands. On one side it said Earn Me. – B On the other side it said Only good boys stay. Because Buck remembered how good it had felt for Eddie to be called a good boy.

 

Eddie’s breath caught in his chest as he turned the dog tag over. He swallowed. He looked up from the metal in his hands, his eyes large, almost puppy-like and it took everything in Buck to not do something stupid.

 

God, he wanted to drag him in by the collar and ruin him.

 

Instead, he said coldly, “This isn’t love. This isn’t a gift. This is a reminder—you’re on probation. If you earn your way back, maybe you get to be my submissive again. But it’s all in my control. I decide to take you back or not.”

 

Eddie didn’t speak. Just stared up at him like Buck hung the stars.

 

“If you fuck this up,” Buck added, voice hard, “I’ll burn it.”

 

Eddie said nothing. Just slid the tags around his neck and tucked them beneath his henley, his hand brushing over the metal like it was sacred.

 

Buck rose to his full height, backing away. “Good. Fifteen more minutes. Then we leave for shift.”

 

Eddie lowered his head again, his hand pressing to the shape of the tag under his shirt like it tethered him to something real.

 

Buck clenched his jaw, turned, and headed upstairs, leaving behind a quiet, obedient man who hadn’t touched him in a week, but who was wrecking him just the same.

Chapter 5

Notes:

i got myself kicking and screaming while writing this, enough said

 

happy birthday to oliver <3

Eddie barely felt the scalding water pounding against his skin. His head tipped back against the tile, eyes shut, jaw locked, fingers holding on to the dog tag Buck had given him. He stood there, trying to let the adrenaline bleed out of his bones. The heat was suffocating. Steam rolled in waves across the tiled floor, clinging to his skin like a second, too-warm layer. Water thundered against his shoulders, but it wasn’t helping. Not with the tension in his jaw. Or in his shoulder. Or the cardiac arrhythmia he was developing.

 

His whole body ached from the brutal shift. They had made long hours, a multi-alarm call that left them half-deaf from sirens and half-dead from all the smoke. There were smudges of soot still clinging to his skin and underneath his nails that didn’t go away, no matter how many times he scrubbed.

 

Buck and he had been on cleaning duty today. Which meant while the others had gone to shower immediately, Buck and he were left to clean the equipment and mop the engine bay.  Buck had followed his beloved clipboard, joking around, like he hadn’t spent the last week and a half slowly dismantling Eddie with glances, low-voiced commands, and strict rules that left no room for defiance.

 

The probation period was already brutal, and Eddie wondered what else Buck would throw at him. Because if he knew Buck, and he did, he knew Buck would slowly build up to see what Eddie could take. Buck didn’t know however that Eddie would do anything. That was apparently how far gone he was.

 

He didn’t even want to think of the implications of having thought that the dry spell with Marisol had been because of his medicine. He was still swallowing Zoloft, but he was horny all the time now. The dull ache pulsing low in his abdomen, sharp, persistent, and familiar. And it wasn’t vague. It wasn’t generic. It was Buck. Buck was the hunger curled in his gut, the friction under his skin, the heat that never burned out.

 

He just couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t stop feeling a certain kind of way, even with his harshness and the cold shoulder he gave Eddie. Because Eddie had kissed him and was trying to win Buck back. And Buck had given him a chance. Which was… lovely, but also unexpected.

 

Eddie bit his lip. He knew he was not allowed to orgasm, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t touch himself, right?

 

It’s just… It had been more than a week since he’d last been allowed to touch himself, touch Buck, speak freely, to even look at Buck without permission. More than two weeks since he’d had any kind of relief.

 

Eddie swallowed, hearing Ravi’s laugh echoing from the bunkroom, Hen’s voice taking a teasing tone. And the only reason Eddie could hear that over the water running, was because someone had opened the door to the shower room. The only person who that could be was Buck.

 

Eddie’s heart climbed in his throat, thundering, as the water in a stall down the row switched on. Eddie tightened his grip around the dog tag, as if clinging to his sanity, trying not to imagine the view. But it was too late. Because he was thinking about Buck.

 

Buck, who was taking a shower a few stalls down from him. Who was stark naked. Wet. Fucking glorious. If he were there with him, he’d mourn the sight of a clean Buck, because a dirty Buck was—

 

Eddie clamped his hand in front of his mouth, keeping an embarrassing shriek inside, as the door to his stall opened. Buck stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The click echoed louder than the water in Eddie’s ears.

 

His mouth literally fell open. Buck was here. Standing inches away from him. Dripping. Gloriously naked. Water trailed in rivulets down his broad chest, over defined muscles, along the taper of his stomach. Where his hard cock rested. His expression was unreadable, completely calm. An enormous contrast to the firestorm in Eddie’s chest at the sight of him.

 

There was no towel. No underwear. No barrier. Just steam, water, and skin—lots of it.

 

Eddie’s mouth went dry. Fuck.

 

Fuck.

 

Buck was just standing there, like he owned the space. And Eddie could technically reach out and fucking feel Buck. He had never seen Buck like this. Never seen Buck completely naked. Let alone straight out of some incognito tab Eddie would open in bed when he was alone.

 

“Hands behind your back.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched, and before he could even think about it his body reacted. He pressed his wrists to the small of his back, his finger curling in on themselves. The position pulled his chest forward, exposed him completely to Buck. He was humiliatingly and painfully hard and he couldn’t even hide it.

 

Buck didn’t say anything, just looked at Eddie. His eyes trailed over Eddie’s body, like he was cataloguing every little detail. His eyes locked on Eddie’s hard nipples for a moment, which made Eddie bite his lip. Because he could feel the way Buck had played with them, using the ice cube and his tongue over and over again, driving him crazy.

 

Then, Buck stepped even closer, opening his mouth and hovering so close to Eddie’s mouth, he was scared he’d accidentally lean forward and kiss Buck. His heart had taken permanent residence in his throat. Buck’s left hand braced himself against the wall next to Eddie’s head.

 

His mouth fell open again, breathing the same oxygen as Buck—that’s how close they were. Buck’s right hand wrapped around his own cock.

 

Eddie chocked on a breath, not knowing where to look. Buck’s face. Buck’s cock. Buck’s body. Nowhere? He wasn’t allowed to look, he knew that, but how could he not?!

 

Buck’s hand moved, deliberate and slow. Long strokes. Controlled. He didn’t groan. Didn’t sigh. Just watched Eddie, like he was conducting an experiment and Eddie was the subject.

 

And Eddie… Eddie was unraveling. Even more than he had been when Buck wasn’t even in the shower with him. He pressed his hands harder against the small of his back, his fingers tingling from how hard they were curled.

 

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. His mind was static and Buck. Nothing else.

 

His cock twitched violently between his legs, painfully hard and untouched. Of course he was hard. Buck was jerking off in front of him! Eddie felt his thighs tremble with the effort to stay still, to not do something stupid.

 

He tried to fight giving Buck any reaction, but he couldn’t—his chest rose and fell in short, broken gasps, mouth still parted, eyes wide. The sound of Buck’s wet, rhythmic strokes was deafening. And he was so close, just inches away.

 

The way he fisted his dick, still in that maddening pace, the one that made Eddie want to drop to his knees and finish it for him. He just wanted to—

 

“Eyes up here, Eddie,” Buck murmured. His voice sounded wrecked, which was the only indication of what this whole situation was doing to Buck.

 

Eddie looked up, too fast, too desperate. He’d do anything, as long as Buck wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t vanish. He had wanted to mourn not being allowed to look at Buck’s cock anymore, but Buck’s gaze was on fire. It pinned him like a nail through the chest, and Eddie swore he felt it inside him somehow. Like Buck could see every crack he was trying to hold together. His whole body just ached for a reward he hadn’t earned.

 

Eddie whimpered. He hadn’t meant to, but he didn’t care anymore. His cock was leaking helplessly, twitching again, and again, and again. He fought the urge to beg Buck. Just this once. He wanted to scream. To cry. To show Buck he was still a good boy.

 

He exhaled with a shudder. Rules were rules. He was still on probation.

 

“Pathetic,” Buck commented, still as wrecked sounding. “And I haven’t even touched you.”

 

Eddie’s legs nearly buckled, and he couldn’t handle Buck’s gaze anymore. He dropped his head, looking at the tiles, the way their feet were almost touching. Almost being the key word. What’d happen if Eddie would—

 

“Up.”

 

Eddie immediately obeyed again. It was instinct by now. Muscle memory. It was empty in his head, because he knew he was safe with Buck. His dick wasn’t. But he, as a person, as a whole, was. He was getting trained in submission he hadn’t even known he needed until Buck gave it to him. It was literally the only thing tethering him to the floor.

 

“I could make you come just standing there,” Buck said, almost idly. His hand had never stuttered, his bicep, his abs flexing with every stroke. “All I’d have to do is look at you the right way. Hmm. And you’d fall apart all over the fucking tiles.”

 

Eddie whimpered again. Tears burned behind his eyes from frustration, from need. His cock pulsed so hard it hurt. His whole body ached—not from the shift anymore, but from something entirely else.

 

Not touching. Not coming. Not even breathing. He was dizzy. His back was cramping. He didn’t care.

 

Buck’s hand moved faster now. He hummed again, clearly trying to keep his groans inside. Eddie wanted, no needed to hear him. He wanted to swallow all the sounds Buck made. His jaw was tight. He was fucking close. Buck would finally show him how he came. He’d finally—

 

Buck stopped. He stepped back and Eddie flinched like he had been hit.

 

Buck let go of himself. He was panting now, but only barely. Like he could’ve gone longer. Could’ve dragged this out more if he had wanted. Instead, his hand grabbed the top of the door to Eddie’s stall.

 

“You don’t get to see the end of this,” he said simply. “You haven’t earned that.”

 

Eddie almost fell forward. The stall door clicked open, Buck stepped out, closing the door behind him again. Eddie was shaking, not able to process the whiplash of the situation. He heard Buck walk down the row of showers, his wet footsteps echoing impossibly loud over the rush of blood in Eddie’s ears, the beating of his heart.

 

Another shower turned on again.

 

He fell back against the wall, trembling, breathing like a man drowning. Holding his fists still clenched behind his back. He was shaking so bad he thought his knees might give in for real this time.

 

His body screamed for relief. His mind screamed worse. Because he could hear Buck a few stalls down. A few soft exhales, the unmistakable sound of fingers around a cock.

 

And Eddie was not allowed to see it.

 

Fuck.

 

*

 

Eddie’s knees ached. Kneeling on the hard floor without cushion was no joke. It had been Buck’s new rule from the start. If he wanted comfort, he’d have to ask for it. And he hadn’t earned that right. Not yet. Maybe not ever again.

 

He kept his back straight, arms relaxed, palms on his thighs, breath slow and quiet like Buck had taught him that first time they’d done this. This was Eddie’s new normal.

 

His mind should’ve been empty. He should’ve been focused on posture and obedience, on what he’d write in the journal later.

 

But his eyes were glued to Buck, it had been two days since the thing in the shower at work. Buck was doing very mundane things, and still Eddie was unable to look away. He was walking in the kitchen, cleaning up, while Eddie was kneeling next to the couch. He didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak to him.

 

It was killing him.

 

Eddie blinked hard, yanked his gaze downward, stared at a spot on the floor. Buck made his way to grab some things behind Eddie. He could hear his footsteps. Every pass behind him made his skin tighten. His lungs fluttering with every shift in air pressure.

 

Was Buck looking at him?

 

He missed Buck’s touch. Missed his voice when it softened. Missed the way Buck brushed his hand down his neck and murmured how good Eddie was. He even missed the casual bumping of their shoulders. Their fucking fist-bumps.

 

Eddie missed their fucking fist-bumps.

 

“Stay still,” Buck said from behind him, calm but clipped. “You flinched.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he replied. He hadn’t even noticed.

 

There was a pause, long enough to make his stomach twist.

 

“Why did you flinch?”

 

Eddie frowned. He still didn’t turn, but there was something in Buck’s tone… something softer, concerned.

 

“I don’t know, sir,” Eddie replied honestly. “I didn’t notice.”

 

“Three minutes added to your time.”

 

A flush lit up Eddie’s chest. He wanted to protest, to explain that it hadn’t been on purpose, that his muscles were cramping, that the floor was digging into his knees like punishment—but Buck didn’t want explanations.

 

The flush spread to his cheeks. The shame mingled with something else. Something low and liquid and humiliatingly intense in his stomach.

 

Jesus. There was something seriously wrong with Eddie.

 

Because this version of Buck, this Buck that was all steel and structure did things to Eddie. Something dark and quiet and devastating. Which was really… weird. And so many other words Eddie just couldn’t think of right now.

 

A coil of heat sat low in his belly, heavy and impossible to ignore. He had never known his skin could feel too tight, but apparently, Buck made him feel like his skin felt too tight. Again. His pulse thundered under his skin. The ache between his legs wasn’t even remotely subtle anymore, but he didn’t dare shift.

 

“You still want this?”

 

Eddie wanted to cry at the question. Because dios mío, yes! Yes, he still wanted this. He wanted this so badly his chest hurt. So, he nodded.  

 

“No,” Buck said sharply, finally walking around to come stand in front of Eddie. He didn’t look up at him. “You speak when I ask you a direct question”

 

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said, throat tight.

 

“Yes, what?”

 

“Yes, I still want this. More than anything.”

 

Another beat of silence, before Buck’s foot came into view. His socks were striped, grey and black. It was something of a distraction Eddie was looking for, before Buck cut off all his brain signals. He put his foot on Eddie’s crotch.

 

“You’re hard.”

 

The pressure made Eddie’s spine go ramrod straight. Heat exploded across his face. He bit his lip to keep embarrassing sounds inside.

 

“Y-yes, sir.”

 

“I didn’t give you permission.”

 

“I know, sir,” Eddie mumbled, eyes fixed on Buck’s foot as it pressed a little harder, teasing his already leaking dick. He had ruined too many boxers and pants this way. “I’m sorry.”

 

And it was moments like these, that Eddie actually felt at ease. No matter the beating of his heart. The uncomfortable situation in his pants. But he was giving in to Buck’s demands. He was submitting to Buck’s demands. Which was… well, also his new normal, he guessed.

 

It could also be a reason for his failed relationships. But those thoughts were for another time.

 

Buck moved his toes, making Eddie bite his lip. He teased the outline of his hard cock.

 

“You’ve been horny a lot lately.”

 

Eddie didn’t even need a mirror to know his whole face was bright red. Why did Buck always know exactly what to say to make him blush? And why did Eddie let Buck’s words affect him this much?

 

“Is that also a side effect of the medicine?” Buck asked, stepping back. Finally.

 

Eddie swallowed and shook his head. “No, sir.”

 

Eddie looked up, just as Buck sat down in the armchair legs spread, head tilted a little to the side. “Then, how come, Eddie?”

 

He wasn’t even fucking trying and he was the most gorgeous man on this world.

 

And out of nowhere, Eddie felt some rush, his brain short-circuiting. He felt bold. Or desperate. Or both. If Buck wanted to play this game, Eddie could play it too. “Because you look like that,” he replied. “…sir.”

 

“Is that so?” Buck licked his bottom lip, leaning back. “Because I look like what, exactly?”

 

Eddie’s lips twitched. “You know what you look like.”

 

“I want to hear you say it.” Buck’s tone was smooth almost nonchalant, but his eyes were sharp, locked on Eddie like he would peel the answer straight from his tongue.

 

Eddie hesitated, but eventually let the words tumble out before he could stop them. “You look like the kind of man I should stay away from.”

 

Buck’s brows lifted, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “And yet, here you are. On your knees.”

 

Eddie glanced down briefly, then back up, testing the waters. “Yeah. Lucky me.”

 

Buck laughed, surprised, yet amused. “Is that sarcasm, Diaz?”

 

“No, sir,” Eddie replied, trying to suppress his own smirk. “Just a… comment.”

 

Buck leaned forward slightly in the chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. His gaze dragged over Eddie like a slow burn. “You’re getting mouthy.”

 

“You said you missed me talking,” Eddie shot back, recalling what Buck had said a few days ago during their shift.

 

“I said I missed your smart-ass comments,” Buck corrected. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t punish you for them.”

 

Eddie swallowed, feeling the tension between them coil tighter.  “Is that a promise?” he asked, softly, playfully.

 

Buck tilted his head again, then smiled. “You really are impossible.”

 

“One of my strengths,” Eddie said, meeting his eyes. “Besides, you like that about me.”

 

“Oh, do I?” Buck teased.

 

For a beat, the silence between them wasn’t charged, or heavy—it was just full. Full of affection, attraction, more than the friendship they had built over the years.

 

Buck’s voice dropped. “You’re trouble.”

 

Eddie lifted his chin, lips twitching. “What can I say? I learn from the best.”

 

Buck laughed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe him. And Eddie couldn’t believe this either. They were laughing with one another. Had Eddie won him over? Had he proved he deserved this?

 

“You’re not supposed to flirt with me when you’re being punished.”

 

Eddie shrugged, giving Buck a look. “Maybe I like multitasking.”

 

That earned him a look back. The kind of look that made his stomach flip and his throat go dry.

 

“Is that what this is?” Buck asked, voice sounding slightly like a warning. “You flirting with me?”

 

Eddie blinked innocently, and looked up at Buck throw his lashes. “Me? Never. I’m just… appreciating the view.”

 

Buck leaned even closer, making Eddie’s pulse stutter. “You’re saying I’m nice to look at while I discipline you?”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched for real this time, as he could only focus on the blue in Buck’s eyes. “You’re kind of hot when you’re bossy.”

 

Buck’s jaw ticked. Then he leaned back again like he needed the space. “Jesus, Eddie.”

 

Eddie tilted his head like Buck had done earlier. He was playing with fire now. “What? You asked.”

 

“Say that again,” Buck said softly. “But say it like you mean it.”

 

Eddie didn’t have enough time to process what that meant, so he filed it away in his mind to think about later. “You’re hot when you’re bossy, Buck,” he repeated. “Technically you’re always hot.”

 

Buck smiled. “Good boy.” Then he stood. “I’ll bring you your journal in a few, then we’ll have dinner.”

 

*

 

Eddie was smiling at his son. Christopher was laughing with Jee, pairing up to wet Denny and Mara. The garden of Bobby and Athena’s house was alive with sound—sizzling from the grill, clinking glasses, the rhythmic splash of the kids throwing water balloons at each other. It was wholesome. Lighthearted. The kind of thing that made everyone relax.

 

Eddie forced himself to look relaxed, to stand still and smile and nod where appropriate—but every muscle was a live wire, his pulse drumming like a warning behind his ribs. He felt like a man standing in a burning building, pretending he didn’t see the flames. Even as he was standing with Hen and Chim, his eyes kept wandering to Buck. He was sitting alone on the back porch steps, bottle of beer loose in one hand, his other arm draped over his knee like he was the goddamn king of the garden.

 

They were three weeks into punishment, and Buck was still playing this game like he was born for it.

 

The first week had been cold. Distant. Obedience with no reward. No contact. Barely even eye contact. The second week had been cruel in the sweetest way—whispers and commands, fingers brushing past but never touching, the situation in the shower at work, the good boy Eddie had craved after he had called Buck hot.

 

Eddie had been pretending to laugh at something Hen said, his plate balanced on one hand, when he felt it. That slow, invisible tug. He turned, and Buck was already watching him. He nodded to a spot next to him and Eddie could see the order in his eyes—come sit, Eddie.

 

His legs moved before he could excuse himself with the others. The walk across the lawn felt longer than it should have, like the air was too thick. He sat down two steps below Buck, plate forgotten on the porch rail, eyes focused on the grass.

 

“You’ve been good today,” Buck murmured, so low Eddie barely caught it under the music and kids’ yelling.

 

Eddie’s ears burned. “I didn’t do anything.”

 

Buck leaned in a fraction. “Exactly.”

 

Eddie swallowed. “Buck…”

 

“Shh.” A lazy sip of beer, the glass clink of the bottle lowering. “Don’t worry. They’re all busy stuffing their faces with Bobby’s ribs or getting soaked by the kids. No one’s listening.”

 

But Eddie wasn’t worried about them, he knew Buck wouldn’t do anything really public. He was worried about how close Buck’s thigh was to his. How the words you’ve been good today made his stomach twist and heat bloom low and deep.

 

Buck nudged his foot against Eddie’s shoe. “You’re flushed. That from the sun, or because I said something nice?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer.

 

“I could say more,” Buck hummed, nonchalantly taking another sip of his beer. “Could tell you how good you look on your knees. How much I’d like to kiss you right now. How good I could make you feel if you keep being good for me.”

 

“Buck,” Eddie hissed under his breath, shifting.

 

Buck chuckled and tilted the beer bottle between his hands. “You started it. There is no logical explanation to show so much of your chest. And then you come over like a good boy without me even saying anything. Don’t pout about the consequences.”

 

Eddie looked down at his clothes. Sure, he had unbuttoned two extra buttons when he had a rush of confidence and knew he’d see Buck again—he hadn’t expected him to flat-out call him out on it though.

 

Buck’s tone softened. “Read your journal last night again, by the way.”

 

Eddie tensed. “You… read that?”

 

“It’s really a good way of knowing what you won’t say out loud,” Buck hummed. Then he looked at him, a little confused. “Wait… You didn’t know that?”

 

“Well, uh, you never said something before, so I guess I didn’t.”

 

Buck nodded. “Apologies. Faulty of me.”

 

Eddie shrugged. “It’s fine.” He really didn’t mind.

 

There was a long silence between them. Wind shifting, the faint scent of grilled corn and charcoal drifting in the air. Someone, probably Jee or Mara, shrieked from the far end of the garden, but Eddie was barely hearing anything anymore. He was waiting on what Buck had read that made him say that. He wanted to discuss something.

 

“So…” Buck started eventually. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was pawning you off,” Buck said. His voice was gentle now, stripped of that low teasing edge he’d been wielding easily all week. “I just… I didn’t want you to feel like you had to settle for me. Or like this… meant anything more than it did.”

 

Eddie blinked down at his hands, gripping his own knees like they were the only thing tethering him to the earth. “I didn’t like it,” he said.

 

“I gathered,” Buck murmured. And of course he knew, he had read the journal. He had read the page and a half that Eddie had written about how he felt like Buck didn’t want him. And maybe there had been too much truth on that paper.

 

Eddie cleared his throat, rectifying the situation. He glanced over at Buck. “I just… we’ve been friends for a long time. You feel safe. Familiar. You understand me without all the awkwardness of trying to explain how my brain works, or how I sometimes say one thing but mean a completely different thing.” Eddie picked at a loose thread on his jeans. “So when you offered to… to introduce me to others, it felt like you were trying to get rid of me. Like I was just something you didn’t want to be responsible for.”

 

Buck’s breath caught. Then under his breath he murmured, “which is why you never answered.”

 

Eddie hummed. “And it didn’t matter how nice you were about it,” he went on, steadier now. This was still only Buck after all. “You still looked me in the eye after everything we did, everything I showed you of myself, and basically said, this was a one-time thing, but here’s a list of women I know who’ll take you from here.” He shook his head. “I know I only asked for one scene, but I…” Eddie swallowed. “I just didn’t like how that felt.”

 

Buck was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “You think I don’t want you?”

 

Eddie forced himself to look at Buck, but didn’t know how to answer that. Because he didn’t know how Buck felt. If he did this as some funny side thing, or if he’d describe what he did with Eddie like how he used to describe his times at the club: some sort of relief—Eddie didn’t dare to let himself think if Buck wanted this the same way Eddie wanted.

 

A breath passed between them. Buck made a soft, helpless sound—half-laugh, half-exhale—and it punched something loose in Eddie’s chest. “I am just scared, Eddie.”

 

And it sounded so sincere, it made Eddie frown. “Why?”

 

Buck gave him a somber smile. “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for you. Normally I do a scene at the club and we both go our separate ways, amicable. And if we both liked it, we can do it again, if we didn’t, we leave it at that. And I, I thought with you… if I kept neat, kept it sperate, it’d be safer. Cleaner. Easier to walk away if either of us got spooked. But then… you got spooked, and I lost you, Eddie.”

 

“You didn’t lose me, Buck.”

 

“Well, it felt that way, Eddie,” Buck pressed.

 

Eddie just looked at Buck. “I’m not spooked anymore.”

 

“I know,” he sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

 

The statement surprised Eddie. “Have I shown you that you can trust me, now?”

 

Buck huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Not so fast, Diaz,” he hummed, sipping from his beer again.

 

Eddie stared at him for a second, then said quietly, “I only want you.”

 

The words landed like something final, like the end of a long, winding road Eddie had walked alone. One where he could finally appreciate the sunset painted against the mountains.

 

Buck’s eyes visibly softened. “I only want you too.”

 

And Eddie flinched—just slightly, just enough that he hoped Buck wouldn’t notice. Because Buck’s voice was warm, but casual. Honest, but fleeting. Like he meant for the coming scenes, this summer, right now, until someone better came along. And Eddie… Eddie meant for the rest of his life.

 

Athena’s voice shattered their moment. “Christopher, baby, come here. You’re turning red again—and your father is occupied elsewhere.” She gave them a look, a bottle of sunscreen in her hand.

 

Eddie barely registered her. He caught the shift of movement in his periphery, but his gaze didn’t leave Buck’s. Not even for a second.

 

Buck took a slow sip of his beer, hand steady, eyes still on Eddie’s. He watched the sun glint off the bottle, the flex of Buck’s throat, the pulse moving steadily under his skin. And something warm and terrifying bloomed behind Eddie’s ribs—wide and full and undeniable.   

 

Buck’s other hand drifted down, brushing against Eddie’s on the step between them. Just a whisper of contact, knuckles grazing. Eddie forgot how to breathe. Every nerve in his body lit up, sharp and electric. That featherlight touch, just knuckles brushing, crackled through him like lighting striking dry earth.

 

Buck had touched him. Skin on skin. Finally.

 

It wasn’t just touching. It was much bigger. It was Buck breaking another rule he had buried them under. It was lighting striking in a dry field.

 

And everything inside Eddie was already burning.

Chapter 6

Notes:

okay so i ended up on this side of tiktok that jokes about chris always being at sleepovers in fanfics lmfao chris is gone all the time in this one too, oh well

Buck groaned as he helped the older woman sit down outside to get checked out by Hen or Chim, or someone else on medical duty. Eddie and he were on sweep and evac. The 115 and the 136 were there too; and he was sure more fire and rescue would come.

 

Part of the building had already been gone by the time the 118 had arrived—even though they had been first on scene. A three-story walk-up in East Hollywood, flames chewing through the top floor like they were starving.

 

It was chaos. Sirens in stereo. Cracking wood. People screaming, pointing, coughing.

 

But together they had saved the last ones. The woman Buck had put down was still thanking him, even as Hen tried to check her out. He nodded a silent you’re welcome to her and walked away.

 

Sweat was trickling down Buck’s back inside the suit, when the sharp guttural snap of timber splitting overhead sent a tremor through the building.

 

Then came the scream. It wasn’t from inside. It was from the street.

 

“My daughter! Please—my daughter’s still in there!”

 

Buck froze mid-step and turned to the noise. The hoarse and panicked voice belonged to a soot-covered man someone from the 115 had just pulled out. He was pointing toward the east corner of the building, the upper level already belching thick, black smoke.

 

The man caught Buck staring. “Apartment 3C,” he shouted. “She was under my bed—she was… hiding when I fell through the floor.” He started to cough uncontrollably.

 

Apparently, Bobby had heard the man screaming, because his voice crackled through the radio. “No one is cleared to enter the building anymore—anyone still inside, we’re pulling back! The roof is giving!”

 

But Buck was already moving, running towards the flames.

 

“Buck!” Eddie yelled behind him, a bark of fear and fury. “Stop! That wing’s unstable!”

 

“I got her!” Buck yelled back, his voice barely carrying over the roar of the inferno.

 

He charged through the threshold into a narrowing corridor, smoke curling like claws around his face as he made his way up. Heat pressed against him from all sides, warping the walls, blistering the paint. Every instinct screamed from him to turn back. But he couldn’t. Not while there was a kid in there.

 

He reached the apartment. 3C. The door was off its hinges. The living room was barely recognizable—a chair in flames, the TV sparking. He could see where the father had dropped through the floor. Buck dropped to his knees, crawling low. “Fire department!” he called out. “I’m here to help!”

 

No response.

 

The air was thick, his vision hazy. His lungs ached even with the SCBA, but he forced himself forward, pushing into what had to be the bedroom. And there—beneath the bed, like the father had said, were two wide, terrified eyes that met his.

 

Buck nearly sagged in relief. “Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “I’m Buck. I’m here to take you to your dad, okay?”

 

The little girl—six, maybe seven—nodded mutely. Her cheeks were wet with soot and tears. It was a miracle she was still breathing and alive. He reached in and gently pulled her out.

 

Then the coughing started, and Buck couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just jinxed her. She must’ve taken in more smoke than he realized—and now that he was upright, she was closer to the thickest part of it. Without hesitation, he knelt down and gently set her on her feet. In one swift motion, he pulled off his helmet, then carefully placed it on her head, tightening the strap with steady fingers.

 

Then he picked her up again, wrapping her in his arms and tucking her face into his chest. She didn’t have to see what was out there. “Hold onto me tight.”

 

The world was screaming around them now. The building shuddered. Smoke coiled around his head, no longer filtered. But he kept the girl close, barreled through the door he had come from and almost dropped into nothingness.

 

He hissed and quickly stepped back. The corridor was gone. Like it had never existed. Fire had swallowed the ceiling as well. Buck coughed hard, tasted metal. Shit.

 

He turned, darted to the balcony window, kicked it out with the last of his strength. The glass exploded outward in a flurry, the oxygen even adding to the bright fire. Heat chased him every step. The girl whimpered in his arms.

 

“Almost there,” he rasped. “Just a little farther…”

 

It was as much a reminder for himself as it was meant to soothe her.

 

Buck staggered through the broken window, boots crunching over shattered glass, and half-fell onto the narrow balcony. The night air hit him like a wave, but it was still hot, thick with smoke and sirens and shouting.

 

Through his radio he heard some crackling, and then vaguely Chims’ voice. “Buck! Ladder’s one minute out.”

 

Buck wasn’t sure he had a minute though. The fire was licking at his back, the girl whimpering and clamping down on him. His vision went blurry.

 

But he had to. He had a purpose.

 

So, they held on, together. The truck’s aerial had been raised, extending just far enough to touch the corner of the balcony. Buck got on and relied solely on his muscle memory to get down. He couldn’t’ see clearly, his vision had started tunneling, but his instinct kept him moving. He shuffled to the edge, shielding the girl with his body, as the ladder shuddered a little under their weight.

 

Chim was the first to reach them.

 

“I’ve got here,” he said quickly, gently prying the girl from Buck’s arms.

 

“No helmet—” Buck gasped. “She’s not—” he started to explain, but his voice cracked apart in smoke.

 

“She’s okay,” Hen assured him from behind, squeezing his shoulder shortly. “We’ve got her. You did good, Buck.”

 

He nodded. Or thought he did. His hands were empty now. His purpose complete. But the edges of everything were still blurring—like heat mirage over asphalt. He tried to stand on his own, without leaning heavily against the ladder, but the world tilted sideways. He blinked and focused on the girl.

 

The father was there, arms out, sobbing. He took his daughter into his arms, clutching her like he’d never felt go again. Buck’s helmet sat crooked on the ground next to them. She was coughing, but conscious. Alive. 

 

He let out a breath that trembled on its way out.

 

“Buck!” Bobby’s voice cut through the ringing in his ears. “What the hell were you thinking?”

 

Buck slowly turned. Bobby was storming over, Eddie at his side. Their faces were tight, pale beneath the grime and sweat, and very clearly furious.

 

“You disobeyed a direct order!” Bobby barked, stopping inches away, his eyes covering every inch of Buck’s body. “You ran into a collapsing building without backup!”

 

“You could’ve been killed,” Eddie added, grabbing Buck’s arm, like he needed to feel for himself that he was still here. “You almost were.”

 

“She was in there,” Buck rasped. His voice was rough now—sandpaper over gravel. “No one else was going to get her in time. I couldn’t—”

 

“You gave her your helmet,” Bobby said, the emotion sharper now than his words. “Buck—”

 

“I’m fine,” Buck interrupted, swaying a little as he straightened. “I got her out. That’s what matters.”

 

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t make it out,” Eddie shot back.

 

“You’re clearly not fine. We’re getting you checked out,” Bobby said firmly. “Eddie—”

 

“I said I’m fine,” Buck insisted, though the world was spinning more now than before.

 

And then his legs gave out.

 

It was like someone had cut all the strings. Like gravity changed its mind. His knees buckled, and his whole body pitched forward.

 

“Buck!” Eddie caught him just before he hit the pavement, the weight of him sagging in his arms. “Buck—stay with me,” he said urgently, lowering him down.

 

But Buck didn’t answer. His world had already gone black.

 

*

 

The next time Buck opened his eyes, the sun was shining too bright. His head was pounding too hard and it felt like shards of too sharp glass were stuck in his throat. He did, at least, recognize the hospital immediately. He hadn’t been back here since he had dislocated his shoulder thanks to Billy Boils—but the last time he had woken up in the hospital was when he had been struck by lightening. Both not nice memories.

 

His oxygen was being adjusted by a hand, and someone muttered, “Your lungs didn’t like that smoke one bit. Stay on this for now, firefighter.”

 

Someone was sitting next to his bed, but he couldn’t turn his head. It didn’t matter. Buck closed his eyes again, exhaustion taking over.

 

*

 

The next time he opened his eyes, he felt much better. The sun was still shining bright, indicating that it had been a short amount of time, or twenty-four hours since the last time he had woken up.

 

Eddie was sitting next to his bed, and he seemed pissed.

 

Oh, boy. He was getting his character back—the one from before they did whatever it was, they were doing—which meant Buck was in for a whole lot of scolding.

 

He slowly removed his oxygen mask. “Stop the stank face, Eds.” He had wanted to sound joking, but his voice was scraping.

 

Eddie stood up to poor him some water and helped him drink it. He didn’t say anything at first. Just put the cup down and folded his arms across his chest. His jaw was tight.

 

“You’re a goddamn idiot.”

 

Buck gave him a tired half-smile. “Nice to see you too.”

 

“No—don’t. Don’t do that.” Eddie’s voice was low, sharp. “Don’t joke your way out of this. What the hell were you thinking?”

 

“I got the girl out—”

 

“You almost died, Buck.” Eddie’s voice rose. “You think that just gets to be your thing now? Running headfirst into death and expecting to come out the other side?”

 

“I didn’t think—”

 

“No, you didn’t!” Eddie snapped, stepping back from the bed, pacing now. “You didn’t think about the team, or about Chris—hell, about me!”

 

Buck blinked at that, throat tightening.

 

“You promised me,” Eddie went on, voice quieter but still raw. “I put your name on that paper. I signed over the most important thing in my life and trusted that if I died, you would be there. That you’d live.”

 

“I would be,” Buck croaked, but it didn’t come out strong. “I am.”

 

Eddie turned, eyes shining. “How? How the hell are you supposed to take care of Christopher if you’re six feet under, Buck? You already died once. And I—I know we don’t talk about that much, but I never forgot.”

 

Silence hung for a beat. Heavy. Real.

 

“I sat in that waiting room thinking about how I’d tell my son you were gone. I thought we were lucky that day. Blessed, even. Like we’d cheated fate.” Eddie’s hands clenched. “But you don’t get to cheat twice. Nobodygets to cheat twice.”

 

Buck’s smile faded completely. “I wasn’t trying to cheat anything.”

 

“Then what were you trying to do?” Eddie asked, voice shaking now. “Be a hero? Prove something? To who, Buck?”

 

“I don’t know,” Buck whispered.

 

Eddie stared at him, chest rising and falling with unspent emotion. His eyes were too wet now, too red-rimmed to hide it anymore. But his brow stayed furrowed, like he was fighting the crack in his voice with sheer will.

 

“You matter, Buck. To me. To Chris. To all of us. And you keep putting yourself in situations where you act like your life is this... bonus round.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You’re not expendable.”

 

“I didn’t think I was.”

 

“Yes, you did. You still do, and I thought we had been over this, but clearly, you still think that,” Eddie said, quietly now. “Because if you really believed you were needed, you wouldn’t keep offering yourself up like that.”

 

Buck’s chest ached. Not from the injuries. From this.

 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said.

 

“You didn’t hurt me.” Eddie’s eyes locked with his. “You scared the hell out of me. That’s worse.”

 

Another beat of silence. The air between them pulsing with things unsaid and too-long buried.

 

“I meant the promise,” Buck said, his voice still raspy. “If something ever happened to you. I meant every word.”

 

“I know,” Eddie replied. “But if you keep doing stuff like this, I’m going to have to find someone who won’t beat me to the grave.”

 

Despite himself, Buck let out a small, rough laugh. “Yeah, well, good luck finding someone Christopher likes more than me.”

 

That earned him a huff from Eddie. Maybe the ghost of a smile. But his hand moved again, gripping Buck’s tightly.

 

“You scared me,” Eddie repeated.

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

And for a long time, they just stayed there—Buck in the bed, Eddie at his side, the weight of what they almost had lost pressing between them like a heartbeat.

 

Half an hour later they were still holding hands. It wasn’t intentional. It just hadn’t been unintentional either. Somewhere in the middle of anger and fear and the soft spaces between, Eddie had reached out, and Buck seemed unable to let go.

 

So, when the door cracked open and Maddie’s voice rang out, “Buck?”—neither of them had time to pretend otherwise. Eddie flinched and immediately tried to pull his hand back. Buck, disorientated and still a little loopy, blinked toward the doorway and forgot to move at all. He didn’t give Eddie the space to move his hand out of his.

 

Maddie’s eyes immediately clocked it. She paused for half a beat in the doorway, eyebrows ever so slightly raised. And though she said nothing, her mouth curved—not in judgement, but in something knowing.

 

The doctor came in right behind her, clipboard in her hand, dressed in a white coat and calm efficient.

 

“Well,” she said, stepping closer with a nod. “Nice to see you among the conscious, Mr. Buckley.”

 

“Hi,” Buck rasped, his voice still gravel over stone.

 

Maddie moved to his other side, brushing his hair back instinctively and checking him like only a big sister could—with a mix of worry and restraint, like she was holding herself back from full-on panic mode. It was a familiar view, she had always been there for him when he got hurt.

 

“You gave us a scare,” she said softly, her hand lingering a moment longer on Buck’s head. 

 

“Gave everyone a scare,” Eddie muttered under his breath, but he didn’t let go of Buck’s hand.

 

The doctor gave them a polite smile, before she flipped to the chart. “Let’s run through a quick overview, just so you know what we’re working with. You inhaled a significant amount of smoke, Buck. Your oxygen levels were critically low when you came in. We gave you 100% oxygen, ran a bronchoscopy to check for airway burns, and started IV fluids to stabilize you.”

 

Buck blinked, trying to follow along.

 

“You were also severely overheated,” she continued, , “and it looks like you fainted from a mix of oxygen deprivation and heat exhaustion. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”

 

“Lucky’s his specialty,” Eddie mumbled, still too keyed up to be fully mollified.

 

The doctor didn’t comment. Just checked the monitors, then added, “We’ve got you on oxygen for now—your lungs need time to recover. You’ll be under observation for the next twenty-four hours, minimum. If we see signs of carbon monoxide or cyanide poisoning in your labs, we may keep you longer. You did the right thing saving that girl, but next time… don’t play hero without backup.”

 

“Noted,” Buck wheezed, clearly not meaning it even a little.

 

Before anyone could say more, the door burst open again.

 

“Is he awake?!” Chimney’s voice hit the room before he did, followed by Hen and then Bobby, who knocked once out of habit before walking in anyway. Even Ravi trailed in, wide-eyed but relieved.

 

“Easy, guys,” Maddie said with a half-smile. “He’s still recovering.” She got a kiss from Chim against her brow, his arm finding its way around her waist.

 

Hen immediately moved to the foot of the bed, slapping Buck’s foot softly. “You scared the crap out of us, Buck.”

 

“Seriously,” Chim chimed in. “If you wanted a few days off, there are easier ways.”

 

Buck tried to smile, but it came out tired and crooked.

 

And then Bobby’s gaze flicked downward—just as Buck realized he was still holding Eddie’s hand. They both dropped it like it was burning.

 

Hen caught it. Her eyebrows arched in quiet amusement. Chim did a double take. Ravi blinked. Maddie, still standing to the side, didn’t say a word. But her smirk spoke volumes.

 

And Buck just knew, he’d get shit about this later.

 

The doctor gave a polite nod. “I’ll let you all have a moment. Someone will be by shortly to draw more labs.”

 

She exited, and the room fell into a kind of chaotic calm, the relief tangible now that Buck was awake and—despite the hospital gown and oxygen mask—very much alive.

 

“You gave us a hell of a shift, kid,” Bobby said gruffly.

 

“Glad to know I’m still good at something,” Buck replied.

 

They chuckled. Laughed in that exhausted way people laugh when fear starts to ebb. But even in the warmth of the team, Eddie didn’t step far from Buck’s side. And Buck—well, he kept glancing sideways, like he hadn’t forgotten anything either.

 

Once the doctor left, Maddie made her way out as well, to go to Karen, who was babysitting all the 118’s kids. She’d be back later. And then the team took up space like only the 118 could.

 

Hen stole the armchair Maddie had vacated, dragging it closer. Chim grabbed the windowsill like it was his personal leaning post. Bobby remained standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed in that protective dad stance he’d perfected. Ravi sat in the corner like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have feelings about any of this.

 

Eddie hadn’t moved from his spot either, and Buck couldn’t help noticing how even his anger had softened now, like the worry had finally worn out.

 

“So,” Hen said, leaning forward with a smirk. “Now that you’re awake, we have a very important question.”

 

Buck blinked at her, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket. “Okay…?”

 

“What was it like being the most dramatic person in the entire hospital?”

 

“Hen,” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

 

“No, seriously,” Chim chimed in, “You got wheeled in like some disaster movie extra. Covered in soot, passed out cold, oxygen saturation in the gutter—Bobby looked like he was gonna commit suicide.”

 

Bobby just raised an eyebrow. “What?”

 

Hen waved a hand. “Not the point. The point is, Buck’s entrance was very ‘final scene before the credits roll’ kind of energy.”

 

Buck gave a breathy laugh. “Sorry for stealing your thunder.”

 

“You didn’t steal it,” Ravi said, a little too earnestly. “You are the thunder.”

 

There was a pause.

 

Chim turned slowly to look at him. “Are you quoting a Marvel movie?”

 

“Maybe,” Ravi muttered.

 

Eddie snorted.

 

Buck laughed until it hurt—and then winced, hand pressing against his side. Immediately, everyone went still.

 

“Easy,” Bobby warned.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Buck said, sucking in air through his nose. “Just... feels like I smoked a chimney backwards.”

 

“You kind of did,” Hen said. At the same time, Chim said, “Hey! Leave me out of this.”

 

“We should get you one of those shirts,” Chim followed thoughtfully. “‘I ran into a burning building and all I got was this lousy lung damage.’”

 

“Make it a hoodie,” Buck wheezed. “You know I’m always cold.”

 

“True,” Eddie said without thinking, then looked like he regretted it the second everyone turned to him.

 

Hen blinked, intrigued. “How would you know that?”

 

Eddie opened his mouth. Then closed it.

 

Buck rescued him, barely. “Because I say it all the time on shift, Hen. Literally every week. Like three days ago I asked for the thermal blanket.”

 

Hen gave them both a long look. “Sure.”

 

“Anyway,” Buck rushed on, “What did I miss? Besides, you know… oxygen.”

 

“Chim dropped his radio in the toilet again,” Hen offered, grinning.

 

Chim glared. “It was one time—”

 

“Twice.”

 

“And we saved three kittens from a storm drain this morning,” Ravi said.

 

Buck frowned. “Seriously?”

 

“Yeah,” Bobby said. “You’d have loved it. Total chaos. Two of them climbed Chim like a tree.”

 

“They had claws, man,” Chim insisted. “And attitude.”

 

“You’re just lucky no one filmed it,” Eddie added, smirking. “You’d be a viral meme by now.”

 

Buck’s smile widened. His eyes fluttered, a little heavier now. But his chest ached less, and not just from the meds. From the warmth in the room. The way they were filling it.

 

His family.

 

Hen saw him drifting. “We should probably clear out, let him rest.”

 

“I’m good,” Buck protested, even as his eyelids betrayed him.

 

“Sure, you are,” Bobby said, patting his foot. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

Ravi gave a tiny wave. “Glad you’re okay, Buck.”

 

Chim made a dramatic bow on his way out. “Don’t go running into any more buildings without us.”

 

Hen leaned in before she left. “Sleep, Buckaroo.”

 

Eddie lingered.

 

Buck looked over at him, tired but still smiling. “You staying?”

 

Eddie just pulled the chair closer. “Always.”

 

*

 

After the twenty-four hours, everything was deemed fine and Buck could go home. Eddie and Chris came to pick him up, they had dinner at Buck’s place and they both stayed over—even though Buck had told them he was fine and he’s survive sleeping in his own home alone. Like he had been doing for the better part of his adulthood.

 

However, as Chris would go camping with school the next day, Buck agreed and they had a sleepover. And maybe once, or twice, he had had a selfish thought of kicking Chris out of his bed so he could hold Eddie, but then he immediately felt guilty again and closed his eyes.

 

Chris and Buck said their goodbyes the next morning and Eddie went to bring him to school, while Buck went to lounge on the couch. He was feeling fine—for real this time. And it had been great to hang with Chris and Eddie.

 

Buck wasn’t allowed back to work before next week. Cap was really adamant about it. He had even threatened with transferring him—which, Buck knew to be an empty threat, but still.

 

And yet, he was surprised hours later when Eddie let himself inside Buck’s loft, lunch in his hands.

 

“W-what are you doing here?” Buck asked with a smile, already pushing himself off the couch, heart stumbling a little.

 

Eddie barely looked up. “House is empty,” he said, like that explained everything, and maybe it did.

 

He walked to the kitchen, set the brown paper bag down, and started pulling out containers like it was the most normal thing in the world. Buck followed, unable to help the tug in his chest.

 

“You drove all the way back here just to keep me company?” he asked, only half-joking.

 

Eddie shrugged, grabbing plates and setting them on the table with practiced ease. “You’ve done the same for me.”

 

Buck watched him, something thick in his throat. There was an ease to this—Eddie in his kitchen, two plates, quiet clinks of silverware—that made his chest ache. Not in a bad way. In a I-could-live-in-this-feeling kind of way.

 

And maybe that was the problem.

 

“I really am fine, you know,” Buck said, softer now, more honest. “It wasn’t even that bad. I’ve had worse calls.”

 

Eddie looked at him then. Eyes steady, unreadable. “You passed out cold and had to be carried out of the building.”

 

“Okay,” Buck conceded, huffing a laugh. “It was a little bad.”

 

Eddie didn’t laugh. He just stared at him for a beat too long. Then, just as quickly, he turned and opened the Tupperware. “I brought empanadas.”

 

“God, you know the way to my heart,” Buck said, trying to lighten the mood again.

 

“I know more than that,” Eddie muttered, and it was so quiet, Buck almost wasn’t sure he heard it.

 

Almost.

 

They sat down together. Ate. Talked about Chris’s camping trip, Hen’s latest science project with Denny, and the ridiculous TV Buck had been bingeing while stuck at home. They both studiously avoided the words “smoke,” “fire,” or “hospital.”

 

But in the lull, when the conversation naturally faded, Buck noticed Eddie wasn’t touching his food anymore.

 

“You okay?” he asked, frowning.

 

Eddie glanced at him, then looked down. “Yeah. I just… I didn’t like it. Seeing you like that.”

 

Buck’s breath caught.

 

“I know it wasn’t a big deal to you,” Eddie went on. “I know you’ve been through worse. But it— It hit me different this time.”

 

Buck didn’t know what to say. His heart thundered loud in his chest. The quiet between them felt thick, like it was filled with all the things they’d never said.

 

“I thought,” Eddie continued slowly, “about what it would’ve been like if Chris and I had walked into that hospital and you weren’t waking up. If you didn’t come back out.”

 

Buck swallowed hard.

 

“I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

 

And there it was.

 

The truth. Or one of them, at least.

 

Buck reached across the table, slowly, giving Eddie a chance to pull away. He didn’t. Their fingers touched, then curled around each other.

 

“I’m right here,” Buck said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Eddie looked at him. Really looked at him. And Buck swore the room got smaller, warmer, like all the space between them was finally collapsing in.

 

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “I think therapy has been rubbing off on me. Sharing emotions and all that stuff.”

 

Buck rolled his eyes, smiling as well. “That’s a good thing.” Then an idea hit Buck, and he could see the exact moment Eddie saw something change on his face. That guy really knew him too well.

 

Buck cleared his throat, stood, and tugged him gently. “C’mon,” he said.

 

He could feel Eddie’s confusion like a ripple in the air, but it broke quick. Eddie followed—of course he did. Buck didn’t let go of his hand until they reached the couch. Then he sank down and pulled Eddie with him, grounding him in the space between his legs, guiding him down like muscle memory.

 

When Eddie was hovering over him, unsure, Buck looked up into those tired, worn eyes and let all the affection he’d been holding leak out into his smile.

 

“Still on probation,” Eddie murmured, as if Buck needed reminding, while staring at Buck’s lips.

 

Buck just leaned up and kissed him. “Technically,” he said against his lips. “But you’ve been off the hook since the second you walked through my door.”

 

He could feel Eddie start to unravel. Could feel the tension breaking in waves, like this was the moment he’d been holding his breath for all month long.

 

“And you’ve been so good, Eds,” Buck whispered. The words came out lower than intended, brushed with heat and pride and something that made his own pulse skip. “So damn good. Even when it was hard. Even when it broke you.”

 

Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut. Buck watched it all—every twitch of muscle, every flicker of feeling across that face he knew better than his own.

 

And it hit him then. Like a crash.

 

Eddie had trusted him with all of it. Every rule. Every moment of restraint. Every time Buck had said no, Eddie had listened. Because he wanted to earn it. Earn him.

 

The ache in Buck’s chest swelled with affection that bordered on reverence.

 

He kissed Eddie again, slower this time, angling up to meet him halfway. He wanted Eddie to feel it—that every second of holding back had been worth it.

 

“You’ve earned everything you want,” Buck breathed.

 

And God, the way Eddie shook at that, the way his hands gripped at Buck like he might fall apart if he let go—it made Buck want to give him everything, right there, right then.

 

But not too fast.

 

Not all at once.

 

He wanted to savor this.

 

“I’ve got you,” Buck murmured, hand sliding up Eddie’s back, fingers curling just under the hem of his shirt.

Chapter 7

Notes:

TW!!!! ATTENTION!!!! TW!!!!!: TEMU/TUBERCULOSIS/TRASHCAN MENTIONED

also, i'm excited for y'all to read chapter 8 :3

Eddie let out a shaky breath, his world narrowing to the feeling of Buck’s fingers brushing against his skin beneath the hem of his shirt.

 

“I’ve got you,” Buck murmured, voice like warm smoke as he gently shifted their positions—now hovering above Eddie, eyes searching his. “So… what is it you want?”

 

For a moment, Eddie could only stare. Buck was breathtaking—so painfully beautiful it physically hurt him. “Everything,” he whispered.

 

Buck smiled softly, nose brushing Eddie’s jaw before he pressed a kiss just beneath it. “Be specific, baby.”

 

Eddie bit his lip, pulse hammering. It was now or never. “I want you to fuck me.”

 

Buck froze. He didn’t move for a beat—then slowly pulled back. The space between them cracked something inside Eddie. He winced. That was not the appropriate response when someone had just offered sex.

 

“I want to,” Buck said firmly, eyes locked on Eddie’s. “Trust me, I really want to. But we need to talk about it first.”

 

Eddie’s stomach twisted. He slid off the couch without a word, needing distance. Buck leaned back, sitting against the armrest. After a moment of staring at the floor, Eddie dropped against the other, trying not to bolt out the door.

 

“I just want it to be good for you, Eds,” Buck said gently, eyes trying to reach him. But Eddie’s eyes stayed fixed on the coffee table.

 

“I know that,” Eddie replied tightly. “So, what? We need a PowerPoint presentation or something?” There was more bite in his voice than the situation probably warranted. But Buck should be happy he was even in the building after being rejected like that.

 

“Hey. Look at me.” Buck’s voice dropped low—softer than soft. Like he knew Eddie was barely holding it together. Like he knew this talk was the last thing standing between Eddie and the door.

 

Eddie finally looked up. Those bright, ridiculous eyes waited for him—patient and kind and too much.

 

“Sex isn’t like in porn,” Buck said carefully, and Eddie felt the heat rise in his cheeks. “It takes preparation—especially for a first time. Even then, it can be… uncomfortable.”

 

“I know that, Buck,” Eddie snapped. “I’ve had sex before. I have a kid.”

 

Buck chuckled—dry, fond. “Yeah. You’ve done the fucking. You haven’t been fucked.”

 

That shut Eddie up.

 

“There’s some overlap, sure,” Buck continued. “But prepping a guy? That’s a whole other level. And if this—if everything we’ve done so far—are all firsts for you… we don’t rush it, Eds. Not this.”

 

Eddie exhaled hard and slumped back into the couch, trying to quiet the storm inside him. Buck wasn’t brushing him off. He wasn’t rejecting him. He was trying. Trying to make this safe. Good. Better than good. Like fucking always. Buck could’ve just fucked Eddie right now and taken an easy orgasm, instead, he stopped it to explain things Eddie should’ve known. He was not a teenager figuring things out, for God’s sake.

 

Still, Eddie couldn’t help what he wanted. What he craved. He just wanted to get tied up, gagged and used. He wanted Buck to moan in his ear about how good Eddie felt around his cock. Rough. Needy. He wanted Buck to come inside him and use a plug to keep it inside him. He wanted Buck to fuck his throat and come all over his face. He wanted to feel full, and claimed, and marked.

 

“—and obviously no shenanigans,” Buck was saying.

 

Eddie blinked. “What?” He had clearly missed part of Buck’s ramblings again.

 

Buck gave him a look. “We’re keeping it vanilla. At least the first time. Maybe the first few.”

 

“What? But I—”

 

Buck shook his head. “I know what you want, Eddie. Trust me. But this… this is something you need.”

 

Eddie studied him. The firm tone. The way Buck wouldn’t budge. “Why?”

 

Buck exhaled through his nose. “Because your first time should be beautiful and easy and good,” Buck answered. He swallowed, then sighed. “We should take our time and make sure you feel okay.” Then he repeated again, “It isn’t like porn, Eds.”

 

Eddie opened his mouth, irritation flaring—but Buck beat him to it.

 

“It’s not always perfect at first. And I’m not about to have you tied up, gagged, and unable to say anything—then have you traumatized and never want to try again.” Buck closed his mouth with an audible click

 

Eddie frowned, but slowly nodded. “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Buck echoed.

 

Silence settled. Thick and weirdly fragile. Eddie couldn’t stop staring. Buck was hiding something—he could feel it. The nervous rambling. The uncompromising conditions. The fear behind his eyes.

 

“Stop staring,” Buck muttered.

 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Eddie asked, voice sharper now. He narrowed his eyes at his best friend.

 

Buck raised a brow, like he was amused—but Eddie wasn’t buying it.

 

“You’re so…” Eddie shook his head. “How was your first time? With a guy I mean.”

 

Buck shrugged, his gaze flicked to the dark TV screen. “It was fine,” he said too quickly, reaching for the remote. He turned the TV on, not looking back at Eddie.

 

Eddie snatched it out of his hand and turned the TV off.

 

“Buck. Be honest with me.”

 

Buck gave him a small smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “It was fine. Really.”

 

“Was it with… Kinard?” Eddie asked, grimacing just saying the name.

 

Buck’s jaw tensed. “It was. Can we watch TV now? Or do you want all the details of my sex life?”

 

“God, no,” Eddie blurted, disgusted. He just wanted to act like Buck had never been with anyone else than Eddie. But something itched inside his chest. A warning bell. Buck’s first time—whatever happened—wasn’t fine. Not even close. And if it wasn’t bad sex… then what the hell was it?

 

*

 

Hen: Sent an image.

 

Hen: Look here, Loverboy

 

Eddie clicked on the picture. It was from yesterday. A car accident had set off a hydrant, and Cap had told Buck to take care of it. Which had resulted in a drenched Buck. His hair had been plastered to his forehead, curling slightly. His shirt had been plastered to his abs, to his biceps. Even his pants had been plastered to his ass, his thighs, God, even his calves looked sexy. Who in their right mind thought calves were sexy?

 

And Eddie had seen red the moment a group of girls that had been staring at Buck, started to give him their numbers. Eddie had roughly said they needed space to work here, and that they could go to the zoo around the corner if they wanted to stare at something.

 

Buck had shot him a small frown but was quickly called away.

 

Hen and Chim laughing—no, cackling—loudly was what got him out of his mind. He rolled his eyes at them. Ravi looked up from his phone.

 

“What are you laughing about?”

 

“Yeah, what’s so funny?” Buck asked from the kitchen, where he was preparing their dinner.

 

“Nothing to concern your young minds with,” Chim replied. “This was a joke between the adults.”

 

“Eddie is not that much older than us,” Buck shot.

 

“Eddie has a kid,” Hen said. “So, he has been an adult for the past fourteen years.”

 

“I’ll spit in your food,” Buck threatened, turning off the stove.

 

Chim made an agreeing sound. “Sounds delicious.”

 

Eddie just saved the picture and put his phone away to help set the table so they could eat. Just as he placed the last glass down, Cap finally emerged from his office. He was rubbing his temples and muttering something about paperwork being more exhausting than actual fires.

 

“Thank God, we have you, kid,” Bobby said, sniffing toward the food.

 

“Chef Buckley at your service,” Buck beamed, hands on his hips.

 

“I supervised,” Chim quipped, grabbing his usual seat.

 

“You peeled one carrot,” Buck deadpanned, setting the salade and lasagna down.

 

“And then I watched you peel another carrot,” Chim grinned.

 

Hen rolled her eyes at her friend, and even Ravi laughed softly. Bobby chuckled, sitting down at the head of the table. “Thank you, Buck, for cooking for us,” he looked sternly at the others and they all mumbled quick comments of gratitude. Eddie shot Buck a grin, he winked back at him.

 

Buck’s phone, laying screen down on the table next to him buzzed. Once. Twice. Then a third time in rapid succession.

 

It was very audible in the sudden silence as everyone filled their plate with food.

 

Eddie looked over just as Buck picked up his phone, the screen lighting up his face with that stupid, easy grin of his. Someone had been texting him, relentlessly, from the looks of it. Eddie leaned, just a fraction, gaze flicking over Buck’s shoulder like he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

 

Selina.

 

His jaw clenched before he even registered it. Why was she texting Buck? Eddie had filed her name away and then forgotten it completely. Until now.

 

“No phones at the table,” Bobby said pointedly, though the effect was weakened by the enormous forkful of lasagna he shoved into his mouth right after. Clearly, he was too busy savoring Buck’s cooking to be truly stern.

 

Hen snorted into her glass. “You’re grinning like a teenager with a secret girlfriend. Or boyfriend.”

 

“Oh, do tell, Buck,” Chim chimed in. “Is it Mrs. Pikachu again?”

 

“Mrs. Pikachu?” Ravi blinked, looking from Buck to Chim like they’d switched to another language.

 

Mrs. Pikachu? Why the hell did she have a nickname? A cute, stupid little nickname? And why did Chimney already know about it like they’d had some inside joke while Eddie wasn’t paying attention?

 

“Thanks, brother-in-law,” Buck said dryly, glaring at Chim as he flipped his phone screen-down again. Again screen-down. Like he had something to hide.

 

“Always a pleasure, baby bro,” Chim grinned, lifting his glass with zero shame.

 

“What’s up with Pikachu?” Ravi tried again, clearly unwilling to let it go. Honestly, same. Even Bobby was slowing his chewing, waiting for the story.

 

Buck let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, okay,” he huffed. “Selina is someone from the club, she bought me the coolest onesie ever—it’s Pikachu. It’s got ears. A tail. The cheeks even light up!”

 

The way he talked about the damn onesie sounded like he had just been knighted. Like he’d found his soulmate in synthetic yellow fleece.

 

Hen leaned forward, delighted. “You’re lying.”

 

“I’d never lie about Pokémon,” Buck declared solemnly. He grabbed his phone again, giving Bobby a sheepish look, and then turned the screen to show a photo of himself—grinning like an idiot in that god-awful Pikachu suit. “Behold.”

 

Ravi let out a whistle. “That’s awesome. I want Charmander.”

 

“I want Blastoise,” Chim added.

 

“Give me Onyx,” Hen grinned.

 

They all laughed, before turning to Eddie.

 

“What about you, Eds?” Buck asked, eyes bright and still smiling.

 

Eddie stabbed a bite of lasagna, keeping his face carefully neutral. “I’m not really into cosplay.”

 

He didn’t look up, but he felt it—the pause. The quiet sting as Buck’s smile faltered just enough to notice. And Eddie hated it. Hated that he couldn’t rewind time and pick something better to say. Something that didn’t make Buck look like a kicked puppy.

 

Hen jumped in fast, redirecting the conversation like a pro, but Eddie barely heard her. Eddie zoned out, because he still didn’t understand.

 

Why was Selina texting Buck? Just because he had helped and protected her, didn’t mean she should just text him and buy him presents. That was just weird. She didn’t fight fires next to Buck, or catch his stupid jokes mid-rescue, or pretend not to notice the way Buck’s laugh cracked at the edges when he was overtired.

 

Buck deserved someone who knew him. Who got him. Who understood that the bright, loud, reckless thing he projected wasn’t the whole story. Someone who looked past the glow and saw the ache underneath.

 

Eddie swallowed hard, watching as Buck typed something back quickly, before putting his phone away for good. His fork scraped against his plate.

 

She probably sent him a dumb meme or a picture of a dog in a hat or some shit, and Buck loved that. Buck thrived on people who made things light, even if the world around him wasn’t. Especially when the world around him wasn’t.

 

She probably doesn’t even know how he takes his coffee. Or that he always hums when he’s about to make a decision. Or what face belongs to what emotion. Or that sometimes he looks at Chris like wants to ask permission to belong.

 

Mierda.

 

What was he thinking about? This was ridiculous. Eddie wasn’t jealous. He didn’t do jealous. Besides, Buck and he weren’t in a relationship. So, technically he had no right to get this pissed off at Selina—Mrs. Pikachu. Except his stomach felt tight. His hands itched. And if Selina sent one more goddamn heart emoji, Eddie might launch Buck’s phone into the nearest fire extinguisher.

 

It showed to be an easy shift, because not only could they finish their food, but they could also clean and lounge afterwards. The dishes were cleared, the laughter fading into the low hum of the TV in the background. Most of the team had drifted off—Hen and Chim were arguing over a game on the couch, Ravi was crashing downstairs with earbuds in, and Cap had left to do more of the ‘cursed’ paperwork in his office.

 

Eddie was wiping down the kitchen counter, mostly to have something to do with his hands, when Buck stepped in behind him, a little too quiet for comfort.

 

“You good?” he asked, casually leaning against the fridge with a bottle of water in hand.

 

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, not turning around. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

There was a moment of silence. Then another.

 

“Dunno,” Buck said, softer. “You just… kinda bit my head off earlier. With the cosplay thing.”

 

Eddie stilled. His fingers tightened around the rag.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, finally looking at him. “Just didn’t feel like joining in, that’s all.”

 

Buck studied him, then tilted his head. “you didn’t just not join in, you froze me out. Felt like I was back in high school, trying to talk to the one guy who thought he was too cool to laugh.”

 

Eddie felt guilt creeping in. “Buck, I—”

 

Buck held up a hand. “It’s fine. I’m not mad. I just…” He shrugged, suddenly quieter. “It was a nice gift. From someone who doesn’t know me that long but still thought I’d love it. And I do. It made me feel… seen. I liked sharing that with you guys. Thought you might have found it funny too.”

 

Eddie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to think about Selina seeing Buck in ways he hadn’t. In ways he maybe couldn’t—because they still hadn’t discussed anything about their contract since Buck had declined Eddie’s offer of sex. Maybe that was a bit Eddie’s fault, but Buck hadn’t tried either.

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” Eddie finally said. “It wasn’t about the onesie.”

 

Buck gave him a look that said, Then what was it about?

 

Eddie didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

 

Instead, Buck smiled tightly and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Well, for the record, I still think you’d make a great Machamp.”

 

Eddie blinked. “What?”

 

“Tall. Broody. Strong. Four arms for hugging,” Buck grinned, winking. And just like that he walked out, joining Hen and Chim—leaving Eddie standing there, rag in hand, heart thudding in his chest like something stupid and seventeen.

 

Great. Now he was jealous of a damn electric rodent and a cartoon bodybuilder.

 

*

 

Eddie woke up. Heart pounding. Skin flushed. He was hot. And hard. So fucking hard.

 

His sheets clung to him, damp with sweat. The air in the room felt too thick, too heavy, like it was wrapping around his skin, feeding the heat coursing through him. He turned his head, face pressing into the pillow, and groaned low in his throat.

 

His hand slipped beneath the duvet on instinct, seeking friction before his brain even caught up. Boxers pushed down just far enough for access. He didn’t even open his eyes.

 

The warmth in his chest wasn’t just physical. It was that familiar knot of frustration and something deeper—longing, maybe—that had never quite left him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

 

“God,” he breathed into the cotton, voice raw and hoarse, hips already grinding up into the curl of his fist.

 

His thoughts were a mess—half-dream, half-memory—and Buck was everywhere in them. Buck smiling at him across the locker room, sweat dripping down his throat, that teasing glint in his eyes that always felt like a dare. Then Buck’s hands—God, Buck’s hands—pushing Eddie back against something hard, warm breath at his neck, teeth just barely grazing his skin. Laughing. Whispering his name like it meant something.

 

Eddie bit his lip, moaning into his pillow, his eyes squeezed shut. He had his hand wrapped around himself so hard.

 

That goddamn smile, the boyish one that made Eddie’s chest feel like it was cracking open. The one Buck gave him when he thought no one else was looking. Eddie saw him in flashes: laughing on the beach, dripping wet from the broken hydrant, licking powdered sugar off his fingers in the kitchen like he didn’t know what he was doing—like he didn’t know he was driving Eddie fucking insane.

 

His fist moved, slow and tight. Pressure building. Muscles in his thighs twitching. Buck’s voice whispered through his thoughts, rough and close, the low gravel of it when he was being serious, or sweet. Or when he was in control.

 

He remembered the way Buck had looked all those weeks ago in the shower. Sex on legs.

 

"Eyes on me," dream-Buck rasped, and Eddie’s breath hitched hard. "Wanna see you come apart for me, baby."

 

Fuck.

 

He bit the edge of the pillow to keep from moaning too loud. His hand slicked now, pumping faster, desperate, chasing something he couldn’t reach when he was awake. His chest heaved as the images flooded in—Buck kneeling, strong hands pinning Eddie’s hips down like he knew exactly how easily Eddie could fall apart under him. Curls damp against his forehead. Tongue tracing the head of Eddie’s cock like he had all the time in the world.

 

Buck would hum like he enjoyed it, lips shiny, cheeks flushed, eyes hungry. “So responsive,” he’d murmur. “You were made for this. For me.”

 

Eddie sobbed into the pillow, hips stuttering.

 

His wrist ached, his abs clenched, the fire in his spine coiling tighter with every slick stroke. His mind could only conjure one name, over and over again: Buck. Buck. Buck.

 

Buck would look up with that stupid, endearing grin and say something like, “You gonna fall apart on me, Eds?” and Eddie would hate how fast his body answered yes.

 

His whole body tensed as it hit him, orgasm tearing through him with a broken, muffled cry. His back arched, vision white behind his eyelids, his release hot and messy across his stomach. His hand didn’t stop right away—couldn’t—as aftershocks pulsed through him, each one raw and grounding and so fucking Buck.

 

He collapsed into the bed with a groan, boneless and trembling.

 

Sticky. Sweaty. Spent.

 

But the ache in his chest? Still there. Still gnawing.

 

Still Buck.

 

He lay there for a few heartbeats, chest heaving, body shivering from the aftershocks. His hand was sticky. The sheets too warm. His skin prickled with sensitivity, nerves still humming, guilt already slithering into the cracks of pleasure. He was still catching his breath when his phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand.

 

Eddie flinched like he'd been caught red-handed.

 

BUCK

 

The contact photo—Buck in the kitchen, laughing, sunshine in human form—lit up the screen.

 

Fuck. Of course.

 

He swallowed, wiped his hand on the corner of the duvet, and hesitated. But Buck was calling. He could never not pick up.

 

Eddie hit Accept, trying to sound casual. “Hey.”

 

“Hi, great you’re awake—wait, hang on—FaceTime’s easier,” Buck said, voice rushed and distracted. There was a rustle, then the screen went dark for a second before shifting to video.

 

“Buck—” Eddie tried to object, but the screen blinked to life.

 

And there he was. Buck. In all his disheveled, too-pretty glory. Hair messy, hoodie halfway unzipped, a bag of cereal in one hand and an unopened Amazon box under his arm. He had clearly just come back from his morning jog.

 

“Okay, so,” Buck began, not even looking at the screen yet. “I got the thing we talked about—you remember? For Christoper? But I saw this TikTok and I might’ve ordered the wrong size and now I need a second opinion because I’m not sure if it’ll fit and—” He finally glanced at his phone and froze. “Jesus.”

 

Eddie’s heart punched into his throat. “What?”

 

Buck blinked slowly. “Did I… interrupt something?”

 

Eddie knew exactly what he must look like—flushed, pupils blown wide, hair sweaty, breath uneven. He probably looked like he’d just been fucked out. And unfortunately, Buck knew exactly what that looked like nowadays.

 

Eddie sat up straighter, tugging the sheets a little higher over his flushed, bare chest. “No. I mean. I was just… sleeping.”

 

Buck smirked. Clearly not buying it. “Sleeping. With your face all pink and your mouth looking like that?” His voice dipped. “You look ruined.”

 

Eddie exhaled shakily, not trusting himself to speak.

 

Buck tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly, voice lower now—intimately quiet. “You touching yourself, Eds?”

 

Eddie gritted his teeth, pressing his lips together. He couldn’t lie to Buck—not when he used that voice.

 

Buck’s grin turned downright wicked. “Hmm? Were you thinking about me?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer.

 

Buck leaned closer to the screen, all mock innocence. “What exactly were you imagining? My hands? My mouth? Or did you think about me tying you up and telling you you weren’t allowed to come yet?” A pause. “Because if you came without permission, baby, we really need to have a talk.”

 

Eddie’s body shivered again and Buck saw it.

 

His voice turned softer, as if he gave mercy. “It’s been a while. Since I touched you.” Then, more serious. “Since we talked.”

 

Eddie nodded, finally whispering, “Yeah.”

 

Buck was quiet for a moment, but his gaze stayed on Eddie like a slow, searing burn. “You want to talk now? Or should I give you time to cool down… before I make it worse?”

 

Eddie swallowed, hearing the promise disguised as a threat.

 

“Depends,” he heard himself say, voice hoarse. “Are you still holding that cereal?”

 

Buck looked down, surprised. “Oh, shit. Yeah.”

 

Eddie smirked at the dork, finally feeling a bit more grounded. “Put that down, Buck. If we’re talking… I want your full attention.”

 

Buck’s smile turned dangerous again. “Baby, you’ve got it.”

 

Buck set the cereal bag down on the counter with a thunk, and dropped the Amazon box as well, phone now steady in his other hand. His face filled the screen, blue eyes darker now, focused entirely on Eddie.

 

“Better?” he asked, like he didn’t already know the answer.

 

Eddie nodded, silent. Still shirtless under the covers, his chest rising too fast, eyes trained on Buck’s mouth—dangerous territory. He could still feel his release in his muscles, but it hadn’t brought the peace he wanted. Not even close.

 

Buck leaned in closer to the camera. “Get out of bed. I want to see you.”

 

Eddie’s throat tightened. “Buck—”

 

Buck just gave him a look, which had Eddie tossing the covers aside, stepping out of bed with shaking legs. He hadn’t bothered with adjusting his boxers before collapsing in post-orgasmic guilt—and now he felt bare under Buck’s eyes. He held the phone up awkwardly.

 

Buck’s voice turned to velvet. “You’re still flushed. Still a little messy.”

 

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah.”

 

“Still fucking gorgeous. I should’ve been the one to do that to you.”

 

Eddie’s knees nearly gave out.

 

“You think I don’t picture it too?” Buck continued, lower now. “My hands on you. My mouth. Telling you when you’re allowed to fall apart. You think I don’t dream about tying you to my bed and hearing you beg?”

 

Eddie groaned quietly, grip tightening on the phone.

 

Buck’s voice dropped further. “You want your rules back, baby?”

 

Eddie nodded quickly, too breathless to speak.

 

“Then say it. I want to hear it from your mouth.”

 

Eddie closed his eyes. “I want my rules back.”

 

There was silence, then Buck’s low, satisfied hum. “Good. Then here’s your first one.”

 

Eddie opened his eyes, heart in his throat.

 

“No touching yourself,” Buck said. “Not again. Not until I say so.”

 

Eddie blinked, stunned. “But—”

 

“You already got one,” Buck grinned. “Next time? It’s mine.”

 

Eddie stood frozen, still holding the phone in one hand, barely balanced between shame, arousal, and the low buzz of adrenaline that always came when Buck really took control. His pulse thrummed in his ears. His boxers were sticking to him again, damp with fresh need—and Buck hadn’t even touched him.

 

“Well,” Buck said silkily, still watching him through the screen, “you look like you’re ready to beg already.”

 

Eddie's mouth opened. Nothing came out.

 

Buck gave him a slow once-over. “Hard again?” he asked, like it wasn’t obvious. “Didn’t take much, huh?”

 

“Buck…” Eddie croaked.

 

“I can’t stop thinking about how wrecked you’d be if I was there,” Buck went on, voice low and lazy now. “I wouldn’t even need rope this time. One hand on your throat, maybe. The other down your chest. That sweet spot right below your ribs—”

 

Eddie groaned.

 

“I’d have you writhing. Maybe let you hump my thigh a little while I whisper in your ear about what a needy little mess you are.”

 

“Fuck,” Eddie hissed, hand twitching toward his waistband before he stopped himself. Rule number one. No touching.

 

Buck smirked, catching it. “Don’t even think about it, baby. That cock is mine.”

 

Eddie whimpered.

 

Buck’s smile darkened. “You want to come again already? You’re really that desperate?”

 

“Yes,” Eddie breathed. “Please, Buck, I—”

 

Knock knock knock.

 

Eddie jumped.

 

“Dad?” Christopher’s voice came from behind the door, muffled. “Carla’s gonna be here in fifteen! You said you’d make pancakes!”

 

Buck blinked. Eddie froze.

 

“I—uh—just—” Eddie cleared his throat, panicking. “Give me five, mijo!”

 

“Okay!”

 

Silence fell again.

 

On screen, Buck was now laughing softly. Not mocking—more amused and somehow impossibly fond.

 

“Pancakes, huh?”

 

“Don’t,” Eddie warned, cheeks burning. “You have to stop.”

 

Buck grinned. “Why? You look like you could come from a single word right now.”

 

Eddie glared, one hand clenched into a fist by his side.

 

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Buck murmured, satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “Go make your kid breakfast, Eddie.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

Eddie hung up before he could say something stupid—or worse, whimper again. He stood there, rock hard, covered in sweat, and wanting Buck like a man on fire wants rain.

 

Outside, Christopher knocked again, this time louder. “Daaaad!”

 

Eddie took a breath, adjusted himself quickly, and shouted back, “Coming!”

 

But not in the way he wanted.

 

*

 

It was barely an hour later that Eddie had dropped Chris off at school and made his way to Buck’s. They still had a few hours until their shift, but Buck had texted him to come over so they could talk.

 

And Eddie really hoped they’d do more than talk.

 

When had he turned into a sex crazed maniac? Was he touch starved?

 

He parked in Buck’s street and only a minute later, when Buck had zoomed him in, made his way upstairs to Buck’s loft. The door was already open, while Buck was on the phone, laughing at something, while also putting down a pitcher of cucumber and lemon water on the kitchen table. There was breakfast on the table as well.

 

“Yeah, I’m free then,” he said to someone over the phone.

 

Eddie closed the door behind him and Buck turned around. The moment they locked eyes, he smiled brightly. Eddie smiled back until he heard Buck talk again.

 

“Yeah. Great. Okay, Selina, gotta go… Yeah, you too… Bye.”

 

Mrs. Pikachu was still following him.

 

“Hey,” Buck smiled, pocketing his phone. “Don’t just stand there, come eat.”

 

Eddie sat down slowly, like his body was on autopilot, like he wasn’t entirely there. The chair creaked beneath him, the smell of warm eggs and toast hitting his nose—but his stomach churned instead of growled.

 

Buck was grinning, animated, talking about some interactive museum he’d seen online, something with dinosaurs and fossils and simulations he swore Chris would lose his mind over. His hands gestured wildly. He looked so alive. So Buck.

 

Eddie nodded along, but his ears were still ringing with Selina.

 

There was a hollow space in his chest. Like something had cracked open and was draining out. He tried to chase the irrational thoughts away—Selina could have called about a lot of things. It didn’t necessarily have to be bad. Right? Right…?

 

He looked across the table. Buck was pouring him a glass of water, his hair still a little damp from the shower. He was in loose sweats and that stupid gray tank Eddie hated because it showed everything—arms, chest, the soft dip of his collarbones. It should’ve made Eddie hard. Made him ache.

 

But all he felt was that sharp twist in his gut.

 

“Earth to Eds?” Buck was smiling, cocking his head. “You okay?”

 

Eddie swallowed. “Yeah. Just—didn’t sleep much.”

 

“You and me both,” Buck said, biting into a piece of toast. “Weird dreams, huh?” He shot Eddie a knowing grin.

 

He’d woken up panting with Buck’s name in his mouth, his hand between his legs, soaked in the kind of shame he hadn’t felt since high school. Now he was sitting here, two feet away from the man he’d moaned for, while Buck casually talked about Chris and toast and Selina-fucking-Pikachu.

 

“Why’d Selina call?” he asked before he could stop himself.

 

Buck blinked. “Oh. I got her a job at dispatch. She moved out of her ex-boyfriend’s house and started from scratch. She had some pretty intense weeks. But she is getting better.” A soft smile played on Buck’s face.

 

Oh. Oh.

 

Eddie hated himself. He had been hating on Selina, being jealous of her, after she had been abused by her boyfriend and dom. After she had apparently lost everything. And Buck had just been a good person.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” Buck asked again, voice softer now, laced with something Eddie couldn’t name.

 

Eddie nodded, eyes down. “Yeah.” Then he looked up. “Can I do something for her?”

 

Buck smiled at him, shaking his head softly. “That’s so sweet of you. But she hates accepting help, and I think we’ve got everything covered.”

 

Eddie hummed, still feeling immensely guilty. Well… Into the box. Frank would kill him.

 

Buck passed the toast plate across the table. “You want more? Or are you just gonna sit there brooding into your eggs?”

 

Eddie huffed out a quiet laugh. “I'm not brooding.”

 

“You’ve got your ‘thinking about the collapse of civilization’ face on. It’s very end-of-the-world chic.”

 

“I’m literally chewing,” Eddie muttered, reaching for another piece of toast anyway.

 

Buck smirked. “You chew like someone who just got dumped by a sadistic pancake.”

 

“Okay, that made zero sense.”

 

Buck leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s early. My metaphors need coffee.”

 

Eddie shook his head, lips twitching. The air between them felt lighter for a moment, and he let himself fall into it—into the comfort of Buck’s dumb jokes, the scrape of chairs on wood, the sound of the city humming outside the windows. He needed that. A minute where everything didn’t feel so messy in his head.

 

“I like this,” Eddie said after a beat. “Breakfast like this.”

 

“Yeah?” Buck grinned, clearly surprised but pleased. “Me too. You know, you could just move in and we could make it a daily thing. You, me, Chris, awkwardly trying to ignore the fact that you hog the jam.”

 

“I don’t hog the jam,” Eddie said with mock offense.

 

“You absolutely do. You hover over it like it’s top secret intel.”

 

“Only because you take a gallon every time. You layer it on like it’s frosting.”

 

“It is frosting. Fruit frosting.” Buck winked, sipping his water. “Honestly, I should just start bringing my own emergency backup jar. Hide it behind the spice rack, label it broccoli purée so Chris doesn’t steal it.”

 

Eddie snorted. “He’s not the thief. You’re the one who ate half a sleeve of his Oreos last week.”

 

“I was testing them.”

 

“For poison?”

 

“For quality,” Buck said, mock-offended. “He deserves only the best in processed snacks.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes but his smile lingered. “You’re the worst.”

 

Buck grinned. “But you keep coming back.”

 

That landed with more weight than either of them expected. Buck didn’t flinch, but his eyes searched Eddie’s, something a little less playful settling between them.

 

Eddie shifted in his seat, fingers brushing a crumb off the table. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”

 

The silence stretched a second longer than it should’ve, filled only by the faint hum of traffic and the clink of Buck’s glass when he set it down.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Eddie said finally, eyes still on his plate.

 

Buck leaned forward just a little. “About?”

 

“Us. This,” he gestured vaguely between them. “I mean, we’ve talked around it. The rules. The… setup. But I need to be honest with you.”

 

Buck’s expression sobered. “Okay.”

 

Eddie glanced up. “I’ve never done this before. Not really. Not with anyone but you. And I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like I’m gonna screw it up somehow.”

 

“You’re not screwing anything up,” Buck said immediately. “Eds, you’ve been clear. Communicative. Safe. That’s more than half the battle in this kind of relationship.”

 

“Still feels like I’m just…” He hesitated. “Learning how to walk while already mid-marathon.”

 

Buck gave a small, understanding nod. “That’s fair. But you don’t have to run. There’s no finish line here. We go at your pace.”

 

Eddie breathed out through his nose, grateful and still nervous. “I don’t want to be bad at this. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

 

Buck’s face softened. “You haven’t, and you won’t.”

 

Eddie finally met his gaze. “You sure?”

 

Buck reached across the table, resting his hand lightly over Eddie’s. “Positive.”

 

The warmth in his touch was grounding. Eddie didn’t pull away.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Then maybe… can we talk about boundaries today? And what’s next? Because I think I want more. I just want to do it right.”

 

Buck smiled, thumb brushing once over Eddie’s knuckles. “Yeah. We’ll talk through it all. Every part of it.”

 

Eddie nodded.

 

“Let me just clean real quick and then we can move to the couch, sounds good?”

 

It took them less than five minutes to clean the table, load the dishwasher and for Buck to make them both coffees. They settled onto the couch, mugs warm in their hands. Buck tucked one leg under the other, angled slightly toward him. Eddie sat more stiffly, back straight, like his spine had opinions about what they were about to discuss.

 

Buck didn’t seem to mind. He sipped his coffee and then set it down on the table, looking at Eddie with that gentle, undistracted focus that always made Eddie feel too seen.

 

“So,” Buck said. “Sex.”

 

Eddie’s ears went hot. “Right. Sex.”

 

“Just to be clear,” Buck said, slow and calm, “we don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

 

“I know,” Eddie said, almost too fast. He glanced at Buck’s knee, then back at his coffee. “I… want to.”

 

Buck’s smile was soft. “Good. Then maybe we can plan something for our next seventy-two off?”

 

Eddie blinked. “You want to… plan it?”

 

“I do,” Buck said. “I want to take my time with you. Make it good. Give you space to be in control the way you need.”

 

Eddie swallowed. “Me… in control?”

 

Buck nodded, patient. “You riding me, if that’s something you’re into. You’ll have the reins, but I’ll be right there, grounding you if you need it. Talking you through it, checking in.”

 

Eddie’s heart knocked against his ribs.

 

That sounded good. It also sounded terrifying. Intimate. Vulnerable in a way he hadn’t even let himself imagine before Buck.

 

And it wasn’t that he didn’t trust him—he did. It was that Buck was so careful, so gentle about everything. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder if something had gone wrong once. If Buck had been hurt. Maybe that’s why he was so patient now.

 

“You’re always like this,” Eddie said quietly. “Careful.”

 

Buck tilted his head. “Is that okay?”

 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Just… I keep thinking something must’ve happened to you. Like, your first time. Was it bad?”

 

Buck gave a quiet laugh, not unkind. “You’ve asked me that before.”

 

“I know. It’s just…” Eddie trailed off, then looked at him. “You’re so good at making things feel safe. It makes me wonder if you didn’t get that.”

 

“It was fine,” he shrugged again, trying to casually brush it off. “But I’ve learned what can make it special. What makes it right. And that’s what I want for you.”

 

Eddie breathed out slowly, the knots in his chest loosening, just a little.

 

“Okay,” he said. “So… we plan it?”

 

Buck’s eyes crinkled. “Yeah. Prep starts a day before. I’ll walk you through everything—gear, headspace, stretch work. All of it.”

 

“Stretch work,” Eddie echoed, a little hoarse.

 

Buck’s grin turned wicked, but not cruel. “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me, baby.”

 

Eddie flushed from head to toe.

 

“Oh,” Buck added with mock innocence, “and maybe we find you a plug to wear the night before.”

 

Eddie stared at him, lips parted, heat crawling up his neck like wildfire.

 

“Still okay?” Buck asked, quieter now, checking in again.

 

Eddie’s pulse thundered in his ears, but he nodded. “Yeah. Still okay.”

 

Buck’s eyes softened again at that, and he reached over, gently tugging Eddie’s hand into his lap, thumb stroking the inside of his wrist. “You’re doing good,” he said, voice low and warm. “You can tell me anytime if something doesn’t feel right, okay?”

 

Eddie nodded again, slower this time. “I know. I trust you.”

 

That earned him a small, crooked smile—one of Buck’s rarest. The one that looked like it surprised even himsometimes. “You’re gonna wreck me, you know that?”

 

Eddie huffed out a breath, almost a laugh. “I think you’ve already wrecked me.”

 

They sat like that for a minute, the silence comfortable now, soft around the edges. The city still hummed outside, distant and indifferent. In here, though, it felt like time had curled in on itself—slowed down to make room for them.

 

“I’ve never done this,” Eddie admitted. “Planned like this. Thought about what I needed.” He hesitated. “I always just… went with whatever the other person wanted.”

 

Buck’s expression didn’t shift much, but Eddie saw the little flicker in his eyes. Like that fact hurt a bit to hear.

 

“Well,” Buck said, voice quiet but steady, “we’re not doing it like that. You get to want things too. You get to feel safe. To feel good.”

 

Eddie looked down at their hands. “What if I don’t know how to ask?”

 

Buck leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Then I’ll listen until I hear it anyway.”

 

Eddie closed his eyes for a second, breathing that in. The promise of it. The truth in it.

 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Teach me.”

 

Buck smiled against his skin. “Gladly.”

 

Then he sat back just enough to meet his gaze again. “We’ll take it step by step. And when we’re off… we’ll take our time. First night will be about touch. Trust. You’ll be in my lap, we’ll go slow. No pressure. Just you getting used to the idea of feeling good with me.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched. He nodded again.

 

“And,” Buck added, almost as an afterthought, “if you want, I can talk you through using the plug before then. Just over the phone, or texts, if you’d rather.”

 

“Jesus,” Eddie muttered, rubbing a hand down his face.

 

“Too much?” Buck asked instantly, reeling it back.

 

“No,” Eddie said, voice rough. “It’s just… a lot. But a good lot.”

 

Buck leaned in again, this time pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Then we’ll take it slow. I’ll take care of you.”

 

And Eddie—overwhelmed, excited, terrified, safe—let himself lean into him fully, resting his head against Buck’s shoulder.

 

“I’m yours,” he said, quiet.

 

“I know,” Buck whispered back, holding him a little tighter. “And I’ve got you.”

Chapter 8

Notes:

sexxxyyyy times yippee yay

Buck: hb condoms?

 

Eddie: I’m clean. You?

 

Buck: tested last week all clear

 

Buck: lube?

 

Eddie: No preferences. Impress me.

 

Buck glanced up from his phone. Eddie was sprawled on the couch like he owned the place, half-watching a football game with Ravi and lazily tossing popcorn in his mouth. Buck, meanwhile, was halfway pacing the kitchen with his phone in a death grip.

 

This. This was exactly why he avoided vanilla, avoided firsts. Too many moving pieces. Too much room to screw up.

 

The more Eddie chilled out, the more Buck’s brain ran drills in the background like it was prepping for a military op.

 

Eddie: You’re distracting me.

 

Buck smirked and typed:

 

Buck: Got some other ways to distract you 👀

 

Eddie’s head snapped up, eyes locking on him like he’d just challenged him to a duel.

 

Eddie: Propper grammar? My, my

 

Buck grinned and stuck his tongue out at him.

 

Buck: so… have u seen the awesome closet in the basement?

 

Eddie: The haunted one?

 

Buck rolled his eyes, met his gaze, and tilted his head in the universal “follow me” gesture before slipping down the stairs.

 

From behind, he heard Ravi call out, “Yo, where you going? They’re about to fumble again.”

 

“I’ll be back,” Eddie muttered, already moving.

 

The moment Eddie stepped into the basement, Buck grabbed him by the collar, tugged him into the closet. The door clicked shut behind them and Buck didn’t waste a second—he kissed Eddie like he’d been holding his breath all shift. Because maybe he had. His hands framed Eddie’s face like a lifeline, and when Eddie made a low sound deep in his throat, Buck nearly lost it.

 

“Jesus,” Eddie breathed, barely getting the word out before Buck kissed him again—hot and messy, hands cupping his face like he was something breakable, or holy, or both. Eddie’s fingers fisted in Buck’s shirt. “So, this is your prep strategy.”

 

Buck grinned against his mouth. “Just running a full systems check.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched as Buck kissed down his jaw, slow and firm like he had all the time in the world—but his hands said otherwise. One slid under Eddie’s shirt, palm skating over warm skin, the other still cupping his cheek like it grounded them both.

 

Eddie kissed him back just as eagerly. Hungry, like he’d been waiting too. Buck grinned into it, catching the corner of Eddie’s mouth, letting it grow messy and fast. His pulse was a riot. All he could think about was how right this felt, how impossible it had once seemed.

 

“You always this reckless in haunted closets?” Eddie managed, voice rough.

 

Buck huffed a laugh against his throat. “Only with hot ghosts who hog the jam.”

 

Eddie chuckled—but it turned into a gasp when Buck dipped down to kiss the slope of his neck. He scraped his teeth there just to hear that sound again. And oh, he got it. Eddie melted, head tipping back against the door.

 

“Fuck.” He clutched tighter at Buck’s shirt. “God.”

 

“Nope,” Buck muttered. “Just me.”

 

He wanted to remember this. Every inch of Eddie pressed against him, the way Eddie’s hands gripped at his waist like he didn’t know what to do with how much he wanted. Buck shifted a little, sliding his thigh between Eddie’s legs. That got him another gasp—followed by a shaky, “We shouldn’t be doing this. Ravi’s literally upstairs. The others too.”

 

Buck didn’t budge. “And?”

 

Eddie stared at him, that overwhelmed look in his eyes again. Buck softened, brushing his thumb over Eddie’s cheek.

 

“You embarrassed?”

 

“No,” Eddie said immediately. “Just… I wasn’t expecting this.”

 

Buck’s heart thumped hard. He didn’t want Eddie to ever feel cornered—he’d stop in a heartbeat if Eddie said so. But then Eddie was looking at him like he wanted this, like he was trying to wrap his head around how good it could be.

 

“Want me to stop?” Buck asked gently.

 

Eddie’s breath hitched. “No.”

 

Buck surged back in with a kiss that curled his toes. Slower now. Less frantic. His hand slipped under Eddie’s shirt again, fingers spreading across the warmth of his back, feeling every breath, every tremble. He licked softly into Eddie’s mouth, coaxing, teasing, drawing out little sounds that made him dizzy.

 

Eddie’s hand found his hair—just grabbed it, like he couldn’t help himself—and Buck moaned into the kiss, hips rocking forward. He wasn’t even thinking anymore, just feeling. Letting himself want.

 

He nosed along Eddie’s jaw, breathing him in. “You do that again,” he murmured, “and I’m locking the damn door.”

 

Eddie laughed, hoarse and fond. “Pretty sure it already locked itself. Evil ghost closet, remember?”

 

Buck grinned. “Then we’re doomed. Forced to make out. In the dark. Tragic.” Buck looked at him, eyes flicking over every inch of his face, cataloging it. “Just wanted another taste,” he admitted.

 

Eddie blinked at him, a little dazed. “This is a taste?”

 

Buck grinned. “Mmhm. Sample size. Trial version. Full experience comes with a weekend subscription.”

 

Eddie snorted, but he was flushed now, pupils wide, lips kiss-swollen. He tilted his head, letting Buck slot their mouths together again. Slower this time, deeper.

 

“Okay,” Eddie murmured when they broke apart. “That was… pretty convincing.”

 

Buck smirked. “So, I can pencil ‘closet make outs’ into our prep schedule?”

 

Eddie’s lips curved. “You’re actually making a schedule, aren’t you?”

 

Buck raised his brows, proud. “Google doc. Color-coded tabs. There may be a checklist.”

 

“You’re such a nerd.”

 

“Excuse you, I’m a responsible top.”

 

Eddie hummed, hands smoothing down Buck’s sides. “Responsible, huh?”

 

“Well,” Buck said, nudging his nose against Eddie’s. “Mostly. Except when I’m pulling you into closets during shift.”

 

Eddie kissed him again, quick, firm, a promise. “Guess I’ll allow a little recklessness.”

 

They stayed like that for a while, tangled up in each other. Buck kissing Eddie slow and deep, his hand resting low at the small of Eddie’s back, thumb brushing circles through the cotton of his t-shirt. It wasn’t about getting off. It was about having. Having the space, the permission, the trust. It was about the quiet certainty beneath the heat, that whatever they were building, they were doing it together.

 

Eventually, Buck forced himself to pull back. His lips were swollen. His heart felt too big for his chest. He gave Eddie’s waist a squeeze. “We should probably go back up before Ravi declares a missing persons emergency.”

 

Eddie groaned, eyes still closed. “Who cares?”

 

Buck laughed, tugging him gently toward the door. “You care, the moment you stop thinking with your dick.”

 

Eddie sighed dramatically, looking up at him. “Fine. But you owe me another distraction later.”

 

Buck grinned, already pulling the door open. “Babe, you’re gonna need a calendar.”

 

*

 

Eddie had bought a plug. All on his own. Well—technically, he’d ordered it online, because of course Eddie Diaz wouldn’t be caught dead walking into a sex shop. Still, the fact remained: Eddie had made the conscious, deliberate decision to buy a plug.

 

Buck couldn’t stop staring at the photo. He was already lying in bed, the blankets pulled up around his waist, but that image on his screen had his pulse slamming.

 

Eddie: I bought this one. Is it ok?

 

It was a simple message, but it made Buck feel like he’d swallowed lightning. Jesus. He’d never wanted to fuck someone so badly in his entire life.

 

Fucking Eddie Diaz—with his soft voice and earnest questions and that look in his eyes like he’d trust Buck with anything. Even this. Especially this.

 

So, instead of staring at the picture for another ten minutes, or texting Eddie back like a normal person—he could’ve typed yeah, babe, looks perfect, and left it at that. But instead, his fingers hit FaceTime like they had a mind of their own.

 

The call connected on the first ring.

 

Eddie was in the bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth, foam everywhere, looking up in mild surprise. “Hey,” he mumbled around it.

 

Buck couldn’t help the way his lips curved. “Hi there.” He was definitely more breathless than he intended to be. “I gotta say,” Buck continued, gaze dropping for a beat, “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day you’d buy a sex toy.”

 

Eddie flushed immediately—that perfect soft pink that started high on his cheeks and crept down his throat. He ducked out of frame to spit, rinse, and by the time he came back into view, he was walking toward his bedroom, expression schooled but his ears still giving him away.

 

Buck filled the silence before it turned awkward. “It’s perfect, really. Smart choice. Good to start small and work your way up to bigger.”

 

Eddie froze mid-step. “Bigger?” he echoed, wide-eyed, staring at Buck like he’d just suggested skydiving into hell.

 

Buck bit his lip—tried so hard not to laugh—but the snort escaped anyway, and he had to drop the phone to muffle it against his duvet.

 

Eddie’s voice came through dry as ever. “Thanks, Buck. Really reassuring.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Buck said, wiping at his eyes, before picking up the phone again. “Honestly, sorry. I just—you just looked so shocked. It was endearing.” Buck cleared his throat, wiping the smile from his face. “But seriously, I mean, you’ve got a bigger dick than that plug, Eds. So, it makes sense that it’s… you know. Not the endgame. Right?”

 

Eddie climbed into bed, grumbling as he settled against his headboard. “I’ve heard the stories about Buck 1.0, the Firehose jokes. I’ve seen it, shortly.”

 

Buck’s brain immediately jumped to that shower moment at the station during Eddie’s punishment, and he had to blink hard to clear the memory before it ran away with him.

 

Eddie looked away. “I just…”

 

“Preparation, Eds,” Buck said gently, already knowing where his mind had gone. “And lots of lube.”

 

Eddie hummed in agreement, quiet.

 

Then Buck leaned forward, voice low. “You wanna try the plug?”

 

Eddie’s head whipped back to the screen of his phone. “Like… right now?”

 

Buck gave a casual shrug that didn’t match the racing of his heart. “If you’re up for it.”

 

There was a pause. A beat of breathless silence.

 

Then: “What do I do?”

 

Buck’s mouth quirked into something feral. He adjusted the phone, leaned back against his headboard like a king settling into his throne. “First, prop your phone up on your nightstand so you’ve got both hands free. Then, strip.”

 

Eddie fumbled a little but followed instructions. He moved his phone carefully to the side table, angling it so Buck had the perfect view of his bed. He peeled off his shirt, then his sweats, leaving just a pair of black boxers that hugged his thighs in all the right ways.

 

“You got lube?” Buck asked, voice low, reverent.

 

“Yeah.” Eddie reached into the drawer, pulled out a tube. Clearly used before.

 

Buck’s view was perfect. Eddie was sitting on the bed—flush-cheeked, nervous, willing. Lube and plug neatly laid out beside him like it was some kind of ritual offering. Buck exhaled, slow and shaky. He took in the sight like it was sacred: Eddie Diaz, loose-limbed but wound tight beneath the skin, framed in soft golden lamplight. The curve of his neck, the flutter of his throat as he swallowed—it was all too much and still not enough.

 

“You nervous?” he asked, softer now.

 

Eddie gave a half-smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “A little.” Then he added, “Not used to someone watching.”

 

“We can switch to normal calling, if you’d like.”

 

“No.” Eddie rubbed his neck harder, looking away for a moment. “No, I uh… it’s good nerves. I promise.”

 

“Good.” Buck’s voice dropped. “Take off your boxers.”

 

Eddie hesitated for a second, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid them down. He tossed them to the side and sat back, upright against the headboard, his legs bent, thighs parted just enough.

 

Buck felt heat crawl up his spine. “Fuck, Eds. You’re gorgeous.”

 

Eddie flushed again, ducked his head. “Buck—”

 

“Shh,” Buck said, voice like velvet now. “Let me take care of you.”

 

Eddie breathed out slowly.

 

“Get a little lube on your fingers,” Buck instructed. “Start by warming it up.”

 

Eddie did, squeezing a small amount into his palm and rubbing it between his fingers. His hands trembled faintly.

 

“Touch yourself,” Buck murmured. “Just get used to the feeling. You don’t have to rush.”

 

Eddie nodded, brought one hand down between his legs, slow and exploratory. His breath hitched as his fingers brushed along his crease, then lower, hesitant and deliberate.

 

Buck watched, entranced, barely blinking. “That’s it. Just let yourself feel it.”

 

Eddie tipped his head back against the wall, lashes fluttering. “Feels weird.”

 

“Good weird or bad weird?”

 

“Good,” Eddie said, voice rougher now. “Just… new.”

 

Buck smiled, pride and arousal a heady cocktail in his chest. “When you’re ready, add more lube and start with the tip of your finger.”

 

Eddie obeyed, and Buck saw the exact moment his breathing changed—when sensation met curiosity and turned into something deeper. His muscles tensed briefly, then relaxed again.

 

“Just the first knuckle,” Buck coached gently. “Don’t push past what feels good.”

 

Eddie exhaled shakily, eyes flicking to the screen. “You’ve done this before.”

 

Buck grinned. “Just a few times. You’re doing great, Eds. Just keep breathing.”

 

Eddie’s hand moved again, slower now, more confident. He groaned under his breath—quiet and raw—and Buck had to bite his knuckle to keep from making a noise of his own.

 

“Fuck, Eds,” Buck whispered. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now.”

 

Eddie huffed a breath, somewhere between a laugh and a moan. “This is… intense.”

 

“You’re doing great,” Buck murmured. “You feel okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Surprisingly.” He shifted slightly, hips twitching, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to move toward the sensation or away from it. “It’s… kind of good.”

 

Buck grinned. “That’s the goal. When you feel ready, try adding a second finger. More lube first.”

 

Eddie did as instructed, rubbing a little more onto his fingers with shaky efficiency. Then he leaned back again, legs falling wider apart, and gently began easing in a second finger beside the first.

 

His mouth parted in a silent gasp.

 

“There you go,” Buck said softly, watching like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. “Breathe through it.”

 

Eddie nodded, panting quietly, face flushed and vulnerable. “Feels tight.”

 

“It’ll loosen up,” Buck said. “You’re doing everything right. Just go slow. Let your body catch up.”

 

Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut for a second. Then his fingers curled just a little, and his breath caught in his throat. A loud moan left his mouth, and his whole body shuddered at the impact.

 

“Did you—?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, eyes opening again, glassy with heat. “Think I hit something.”

 

Buck’s heart kicked hard. “That’s your prostate, Eds. That’s the jackpot.”

 

Eddie looked stunned. “Holy shit.”

 

Buck chuckled, warm and low. “Yeah. Now you get why prep matters.”

 

Eddie worked his fingers in and out slowly, gaining rhythm, building confidence. He moaned—low and broken—and Buck had to adjust his own position before he got embarrassingly ahead of the game.

 

When Eddie finally stilled again, he looked at the screen, chest heaving. “Should I… try a third?”

 

Buck sat up straighter. “If you feel ready. Only if. You’re already doing amazing.”

 

Eddie didn’t respond right away. He reached for the lube again, coated his fingers generously, and moved with steady patience. The third finger took longer, slower, his brows furrowed with focus and heat.

 

“Fucking hell,” he whispered as it slid in. “Buck.”

 

“I know,” Buck said, awe-struck. “You’re taking it so well.”

 

Eddie’s head dropped back, body trembling faintly as he adjusted to the stretch.

 

“You okay?” Buck asked, quieter now.

 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed. “More than okay.”

 

Buck was wrecked, one hand fisted in his duvet, the other gripping his phone. “Take your time,” he said. “You don’t need to rush the plug. Make yourself feel good.”

 

Eddie hummed low in his throat, pleasure still clearly blooming under his skin. His fingers moved in a slow rhythm, deliberate, but Buck could tell he was teetering—on the edge of something bigger.

 

“Eds,” Buck said, mouth dry, voice almost reverent. “Can you do something for me?”

 

Eddie blinked at the screen, pupils blown wide. “What?”

 

“Turn around,” Buck said, gentle but firm. “Lay on your stomach. Knees under you, ass in the air.”

 

Eddie froze for a heartbeat, flushed all the way down his chest, but he didn’t question it. He nodded, quiet and trusting, and shifted slowly onto his stomach, then onto his knees, elbows sinking into the mattress. His spine curved naturally, strong back flexing as he settled into the new position.

 

And, God.

 

Buck let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, Eds… that’s perfect. You look so—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “Beautiful.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched audibly at that, hips twitching as he reached back again with slick fingers.

 

This time, there was no hesitation.

 

His fingers slid in easier now, his body open, eager. The angle pulled a sound from him that was downright sinful.

 

“Oh my god,” Eddie gasped, hips rocking back to meet the pressure. “Buck. Buck.”

 

“I’m here,” Buck said, eyes locked on the screen like it was the only thing tethering him to Earth. “Let yourself go, baby.”

 

Eddie did.

 

The moans came faster, deeper, his movements more fluid now, desperate for more. Every twist of his fingers had him shaking, the new angle lighting up nerves he probably didn’t know even existed. He buried his face in the crook of his arm, one hand gripping the sheets, the other working steadily behind him.

 

“Jesus,” Buck whispered. “Look at you. Fucking your fingers like you’ve done it a hundred times.”

 

Eddie let out a breathless laugh, wrecked and high on sensation. “Feels—insane. So much better like this.”

 

“Yeah?” Buck said, practically panting. “You gonna come like that, Eds? Just from your fingers?”

 

Eddie groaned, the sound caught between embarrassment and pure, feral need. “Don’t know. Maybe. Fuck, Buck, this is—”

 

“I’ve got you,” Buck said, a little rough now. “Whatever you need.”

 

Eddie was panting now, his body rocking in a steady rhythm, ass high, fingers working deep and sure inside himself. The flush had spread down his back, and his thighs were trembling from the effort. Buck could see everything—every clench, every twitch, every desperate grind for more.

 

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” Buck said, voice thick with awe. “So fucking good for me.”

 

Eddie let out a broken noise, something caught between a groan and a whimper.

 

“Look at you,” Buck murmured, heat dripping from every word. “Fucking yourself open for me like it’s the only thing that matters. God, Eds, you’re so hot.”

 

“Buck,” Eddie gasped, muffled into the pillow. “I—I think—”

 

“Yeah?” Buck coaxed, his voice a little rougher now. “You close? Feels that good?”

 

Eddie nodded, frantic. “So close.”

 

Buck adjusted the angle of his phone, needing to see more, needing to stay grounded in this moment with him. “You’re perfect like this. Fucking perfect, Eds. That ass up in the air, fingers deep in your hole—shit, you’re gonna ruin me.”

 

Eddie’s hips started to stutter again, movements growing erratic, breath catching in his throat.

 

“I wish I could be there,” Buck growled. “Wish I could grab your hips and bury my face in that sweet ass—taste you, fuck you open with my tongue until you’re begging me to stop.”

 

“Fuck,” Eddie choked, whole body trembling.

 

“You’d love it, wouldn’t you?” Buck pushed, his own breath ragged. “Me licking you while you fuck yourself on your fingers. Or maybe I’d hold your hands down, do it for you—stretch you with my fingers nice and slow while you whimper into the sheets.”

 

Eddie moaned—loud and ragged—hips jerking wildly now.

 

“Come on, Eds. You’re so close. So fucking hot for me. You gonna come with your fingers buried in that tight hole?”

 

Eddie gave a desperate, shattered sound, body locking up.

 

“Do it,” Buck groaned. “Come for me, baby. Let me see you fall apart.”

 

That was it.

 

Eddie cried out, sharp and wrecked, body jerking as he came—face pressed to the pillow, hand still buried inside himself, his other clawing at the sheets. His muscles locked, then trembled, breath heaving in ragged pulls as he rode it out.

 

Buck was wrecked, jaw slack, heart hammering. “Jesus fuck, Eds.”

 

Only when Eddie’s body sagged into the mattress, flushed and boneless, did Buck finally speak again—soft now, reverent. “You just killed me.”

 

Eddie turned his head toward the screen, dazed but smiling, lips swollen from biting them, eyes heavy-lidded. “Worth it.”

 

While Eddie was catching his breath, Buck still held onto his sheets. This was about Eddie, not about the fact that he was fucking leaking into his underwear.

 

“Okay, Eds. If you’re feeling up to it, maybe we try the plug now. No pressure. Only if you want.” Buck’s voice softened, careful not to rush him.

 

Eddie was quiet for a moment, then nodded, voice low. “Yeah. I think I’m ready.”

 

Buck watched the screen as Eddie reached for the plug. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked it up, then paused, coating it with more lube. Buck felt his chest tighten, wanting to be there to steady him.

 

“Take your time,” Buck coached, voice gentle but insistent. “Relax your muscles as much as you can. You don’t have to push it all the way in at once. Just the tip at first.”

 

Eddie pressed the silicone slowly to his opening, breath hitching. Then, half an inch by half an inch, he pushed it deeper—wincing, adjusting his angle, breathing through the stretch. Buck saw the hesitation in his eyes, nervous, unsure, but determined.

 

“Good,” Buck praised softly. “You’re doing so fucking good. Feel that pressure? That’s your body learning, getting used to something new. Nothing to rush.”

 

Eddie hummed.

 

“How does it feel?” Buck swallowed the growing heat in his throat.

 

“Stretchy,” Eddie said quietly. “Kinda weird.”

 

“That’s normal,” Buck said. “Just breathe through it. Don’t force anything.”

 

Eddie shifted on the bed, fingers gripping the base lightly, then slowly pushed a little deeper—maybe another half an inch.

 

Buck held his breath, watching his face scrunch briefly in concentration, then relax. “That’s it. No rush. You can stop anytime.”

 

After a long pause, Eddie whispered, “Okay, a little more.”

 

Buck nodded, though Eddie couldn’t see it. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

He slid the plug in just a bit further, muscles tightening, then relaxing again. Buck could see the mix of discomfort and curiosity—like he was testing boundaries with his own body.

 

“You’re doing really well,” Buck said, voice steady. “I’m proud of you. You’re not just taking it—you’re fucking owning it. I want you to remember how powerful you are.”

 

Eddie’s breathing grew heavier, uneven but controlled. “Feels… kinda full.”

 

“Perfect,” Buck said. “That’s the plug doing its job. You can stay there as long as it feels good.”

 

Eddie shifted, getting more comfortable, fingers tracing the plug’s base like he was checking in with himself.

 

Buck’s eyes caught the movement before he even heard it—the subtle reach of Eddie’s hand toward the phone balanced on the bedstand. A slow smile tugged at his lips as Eddie stubbornly lifted the screen higher, angling it toward himself.

 

“Hey,” Buck said softly, watching Eddie lean back against the headboard. He bit his lip, his eyes closing momentarily. Buck understood that Eddie was feeling his ass deliciously swallow the plug.

 

After a moment, Eddie’s gaze locked with Buck’s through the screen, fierce and unwavering. “I want to see you cum too.”

 

Buck blinked, amusement sparking in his chest. “Oh yeah? And here I thought you were the shy one. You sure you want that? It’s not a pretty sight.”

 

“Shut up,” Eddie snapped, voice cracking just enough to betray how much he wanted this. “You’ve been watching me every time. I’ve never seen you finish.”

 

Buck laughed low and slow, savoring that stubbornness like a damn gift. “Is that a challenge, Eds? You want me to show off just so you can finally get the full picture?”

 

Eddie’s jaw clenched, lips pressed tight for a second before he bit down on his bottom lip, eyes darkening with desire. “I’m not asking, Buck. I’m telling.”

 

Buck’s grin deepened as he reached down and grabbed the small bottle of lube sitting nearby. His fingers coated themselves slowly, deliberately, enjoying the slick warmth as he wrapped his hand around his cock. Already swollen, his skin was hypersensitive, the first slick strokes sending delicious fire coursing through his nerves. He knew it wouldn’t take long—not after that precious show Eddie had put on.

 

“You’re something else, you know that?” Buck murmured, voice thick and low. “I love the way you look at me right now, like you’re about to melt.”

 

His hand moved with measured pace, slow teasing strokes that let the pleasure build, no rush. The wet glide of his fingers was a balm and a tease all at once.

 

Eddie’s breath hitched, the faintest tremble running through his fingers as he tightened his grip on the phone, eyes never leaving the screen. Buck could see his eyes go up and down, not knowing whether to look at Buck’s face or his hand around his cock  

 

He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift. The mental image of Eddie so open and vulnerable, the flush climbing his neck and chest, the way he took himself so damn well—fucking electric. His body reacted, slick and slicker, the heat pooling deep, fingers curling just right, teasing the sensitive tip of his cock.

 

Buck settled back, voice dropping to a low growl that rolled straight through the phone like liquid heat. “You have no idea how fucked I am for you right now. You, all stubborn and insistent—”

 

His hand slid with a bit more pressure, pleasure swelling hotter, muscles tightening. Arm moving faster and faster. “Thinking about you taking that plug, all wrapped up in your own pleasure… Fuck, Eds, it’s driving me crazy.”

 

He opened his eyes again to see Eddie’s mouth slightly parted, before he bit his lip harder, eyes glossy and wide. Buck could see the way his breath caught in his throat, the slight flush crawling down his neck.

 

His voice thickened, slow and deliberate. “You want to see me lose control? Watch me come undone for you?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer with words—just an almost imperceptible nod, eyes locked onto Buck’s like he was the only thing in the room. In the world.

 

Buck’s fingers moved with even more purpose now, the slick glide turning faster, tighter. His breath hitched, pulse pounding in his ears as the heat coiled tighter, every stroke pushing him closer to the edge. Buck groaned low, hips lifting just the slightest bit off the bed, fingers slick and sure, pleasure ripping through him in waves.

 

“Fuck, Eddie,” he breathed, and Eddie let out a whimper.

 

Buck’s hand moved even faster now, his breath ragged and thick with need. His muscles clenched tight, hips rolling with his strokes as the tension broke, a loud, raw curse escaping his lips. His body jerked, fingers curling around himself, each pulse sending fire through his nerves. Words tumbled from his lips, rough, needy, dripping with praise and hunger.

 

His hand kept slowly stroking himself, milking ever last drop from his balls.

 

When the last tremor faded and Buck’s chest heaved with exhaustion, Eddie’s smile was slow, satisfied, the flush still warm across his cheeks.

 

And Buck knew, Eddie Diaz would be the death of him.

Chapter 9

Notes:

TW!!!! ATTENTION!!!! TW!!!!!: TEMU

#TommyHater don't come for me x

some fun because angst is on its way

Eddie stared at Frank, not knowing what he wanted to hear so he’d leave him alone. And Frank kept staring right back, unfazed. He was very good at weaponizing silence. Or maybe just making Eddie uncomfortable. 

 

“I’d love to stare at you for the rest of the hour, if that is what you need, Eddie,” he said, in a tone that actually meant he did in fact not want to stare at Eddie for the rest of their session. “But keep in mind that no matter how many times you have accused me, I cannot mind read.” 

 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at the man. “What do you want me to say?”

 

Frank smiled at him. “I’d like an answer to my question.”

 

“Which was…”

 

“How are things with Buck?”

 

“Yeah, that’s what you asked. But what you are actually asking me is if I’m in love with Buck. And the answer is yes, okay?! I have been for fucking years and what does that say about me? Am I gay? Have I been lying to Ana? To Marisol? To Shannon? How long have I been gay? Like, oh man, people say you’re born this way. Why has it taken me over three decades to find out that I do not care for girls? Or women, I should say. How do I explain this to Christopher? To my parents? My family? My friends? What if they will treat me differently? What if people won’t react positively? What if Sophia and Adriana don’t want to see me anymore? What if Buck doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore because he’ll think I’ve been lying for the past seven years—because who figures out after three decades that they are gay? Who, Frank?”

 

That’s what he wanted to scream at him, and he hoped Frank could somehow really understand that. Mindreader and all that. 

 

Instead, Eddie sighed and said, “Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

Frank shrugged. “Last time we spoke, you didn’t mention him once. Normally, he comes up a lot.”

 

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him. “So what? I skip Buck for one session and suddenly there’s a problem?”

 

Frank’s silence said more than a lecture ever could. He blinked at Eddie, his eyes taking in his stance. And Eddie knew he’d messed up. He fucking knew Frank was seeing how defensive he was reacting. Buck would call him a drama queen for not answering Frank’s question like a sane person. He’d nudge him and then scold him for not being honest with his therapist. 

 

According to Buck there were four people you should be completely honest with (outside first responders): your lawyer, your therapist, your spouse, and yourself. And occasionally your doctor but sometimes exaggerating helped a little. 

 

Eddie didn’t have a lawyer. He also didn’t have a spouse. He sure as hell wasn’t honest with himself. Clearly. And now he was bullshitting Frank, too. 

 

Buck would be so disappointed. 

 

Eddie sighed, rubbing his face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out.”

 

“No apologies necessary. Why do you think you reacted that way?”

 

Eddie just wanted to get this over with. 

 

“Buck and I kissed.” He wouldn’t be surprised if Frank hadn’t heard him because he had probably sounded more like a fly buzzing by than a human being. He didn’t add that Buck had also jerked him off. Spanked him. Watched him finger himself. Made him buy a plug, which he showed him on FaceTime. Had him all excited and nervous for their next seventy-two off.

 

Of course, he didn’t say that.

 

Frank didn’t react. Just blinked once, calmly, like Eddie had told him he'd bought a new brand of toothpaste, not dropped a goddamn bomb.

 

“Okay,” he said, measured. 

 

Eddie felt his pulse in his ears and stared at him, waiting for the reaction he was sure was coming—the prying, the overanalyzing, the smug therapist head-tilt that always made him feel like a lab rat under a microscope. But Frank just… waited.

 

“Okay?” Eddie echoed, suddenly defensive. “That’s it?”

 

“I’m following your lead,” Frank replied smoothly, leaning back in his wheelchair. “You said you and Buck kissed. That’s something. Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” Eddie said automatically, looking away. Then: “Yes. I mean… I don’t know. Not really.” He clenched his jaw. 

 

Frank nodded. “That’s fair. But you brought it up.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Eddie scratched at his temple like it might erase the last thirty seconds. “I don’t know why I said it.”

 

Frank let the silence stretch just enough to make Eddie twitchy. Again.

 

Finally, Eddie muttered, “We’re not in a relationship, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

 

Frank didn’t raise a brow. Didn’t lean in. Just said, “Alright.”

 

“But we kissed,” Eddie went on, as if he needed to clarify it for Frank. “And it wasn’t… random. It’s not like we were drunk or whatever. It was… intentional.”

 

“By you?”

 

“By both of us,” Eddie snapped. Then winced, cursing under his breath. “Sorry.”

 

“No need to apologize,” Frank said again. “You're allowed to have feelings about this.”

 

Eddie pressed his thumb hard against the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well, feelings are the damn problem.”

 

“Why?”

 

How the hell could he explain this without telling Frank about their non-relationship-relationship?

 

Eddie dropped his hand and exhaled roughly. “Because I don’t know what they mean. Like—yeah, we kissed. But that’s not all. We’ve… been spending more time together lately. Different time. More… focused.” He hesitated, chest rising and falling a little faster. “But it’s not a relationship. Not in the way people define it.”

 

Frank nodded once, slowly. “Okay. So, if it’s not a relationship… what is it to you?”

 

Eddie hesitated. “I don’t know.” He knew what he wished it to be, though.

 

“You sounded pretty certain just now,” Frank pointed out gently.

 

“I have to be certain. If I say it’s something real, then what the hell does that say about everything else? My whole damn life?”

 

“Maybe it says you’re understanding yourself more deeply now.”

 

Eddie let out a humorless laugh. “I’m almost thirty-four years old. This isn’t supposed to be the time for epiphanies.”

 

Frank tilted his head. “Why not? You’re allowed to grow. You’re allowed to change.”

 

“I’m not gay,” Eddie said quickly, too quickly.

 

Frank didn’t flinch. “Did I say you were?”

 

“No. I just—” Eddie rubbed his hands together like they were covered in something he couldn’t get off. “It’s not even about that. It’s not about labels. It’s about how safe I feel with him. How he gets me in a way nobody else ever has. And I know how that sounds. It sounds—romantic, or whatever. But it’s not just that.”

 

“Not just that,” Frank echoed, voice calm, inviting more.

 

Eddie swallowed. “It’s… trust. And control. And feeling like I can let go without falling apart. That I can breathe when I’m around him. But I can't talk to him about any of this without feeling like a damn idiot.”

 

Frank nodded once. “That sounds like something very real to me.”

 

“I’m not—” Eddie’s voice caught, then dropped low. “We’re not dating, Frank.”

 

“No one said you were,” Frank replied softly. “But it sounds like you’ve found something important with Buck. And maybe it doesn’t fit into neat little boxes. That’s okay. What matters is how you feel about it.”

 

Eddie looked at the floor. “I don’t want to screw it up.”

 

“That tells me it matters to you.”

 

Eddie didn’t respond for a long time. His walls were up, but there was a tremble in them now. Something giving way.

 

Frank waited a beat, then said, “You don’t have to define anything for me. Or even for yourself. But if you want to keep this… connection healthy, honest… it might help to ask what he feels, too.”

 

Eddie scoffed quietly. “Yeah. That’s the terrifying part.”

 

Frank smiled faintly. “The scary things usually are.”

 

*

 

As if Frank hadn’t already cracked him wide open—emotionally waterboarded him into next year—Father Brian had decided now was the perfect time to call and invite Eddie out for a drink.

 

Which is how Eddie found himself sitting across from a priest in a half-decent bar downtown, staring into the abyss of his whiskey. It was their 48 off, with their dreaded 72 looming like a damn tidal wave. And yeah, it was scaring the crap out of him. But also—he couldn’t lie—kind of thrilling the hell out of him too.

 

“You know Buck knows every single animal at the L.A. Zoo?” Eddie slurred, head resting on his hand like the world’s most lovesick philosopher. “Like, he could give you the grand tour with fun facts and everything. Should’ve been a zookeeper. Actually—hang on—I’m gonna ask him why he didn’t. He’d be so fucking good at it.”

 

Father Brian gave him a patient smile and a gentle hum, like a kindergarten teacher. “That’s... charming. But maybe we shouldn’t call Buck this late.”

 

“Why? You think he’s with someone?” Eddie’s phone and drink were forgotten in an instant, eyes wide like a telenovela plot twist had just unfolded.

 

“Maybe we should also consider cutting you off from alcohol.”

 

“Oh right,” Eddie snorted, grinning. “Forgot it’s also sinful to be intoxicated. But then again, I’m walking sin these days.” His head slipped from his hand but he caught himself, barely. “But hey! I’m with a priest. What do you know. Forgive me father for I have sinned— I’ve taken the Lord’s name in vain, had sex dreams about my best friend, had sexual relationships with said best friend via FaceTime, kissed said best friend in the haunted closet at work, and lied to my therapist about all of it.”

 

“Eddie,” Father Brian said in that tone—the one that suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d said his name while he had been rambling.

 

“You have pretty eyes,” Eddie mused, peering at the man across from him. “But you know whose eyes are prettier?”

 

“Let me guess, Buck’s?” Father Brian asked, smiling, shaking his head.

 

“I was jealous of Mrs. Pikachu. And all she did was try to be his friend. I’m the worst.”

 

“Mrs. Pikachu?” Father Brian repeated, eyebrows raised. “Exactly how much have you had to drink? You really can’t hold your liquor.”

 

Eddie waved a lazy hand. “It’s thanks to my white mama, you should see my father’s side of the family,” he replied, whistling. “My tío Fernando? That man could chug a gallon of tequila and still argue about taxes.”

 

Father Brian sipped his ginger ale like he regretted all his life choices.

 

“Let’s call Buck,” Eddie said suddenly, enthusiasm reignited as he reached for his phone like it had betrayed him by not already being in his hand. He pressed on Buck’s name. It was on top. Always on top.

 

“I don’t think—” Father Brian tried.

 

“Eddie? Everything okay?” Buck asked, picking up on the first ring. 

 

“Heyyy, Buck!” Eddie beamed. “How’re ya doing this fine evening?” 

 

Buck cursed. “Eddie? Are you drunk? Where are you?” There was some rustling. 

 

“Ahw, man. Are you coming here? Father Brian is here too.”

 

“Father Brian?” Buck echoed, sounding pretty confused. Or just pretty.

 

“Were you fucking someone today, Buck?”

 

“Jesus, Eddie. Where are you?” Eddie could hear some distant keys and a door closing. 

 

“At the bar, with Father Brian.”

 

“Can I ask Father Brian something, sweetheart? Give him the phone for me.”

 

“Okay,” Eddie smiled. Then he outstretched his arm. “He wants to talk to you.”

 

Father Brian gave Eddie a look, before accepting the phone like it might explode. “This is Father Brian.”

 

Eddie didn’t listen anymore. Because suddenly there were this pair of eyes that met his. And Eddie stilled. Fucking Tommy Kinard. The asshole. The worst ex of Buck. Or maybe that was the old woman he’d dated before Eddie had joined the 118. Or that fucking Taylor Kelly and her stupid perfect hair. 

 

They were all horrible. Buck had terrible  taste in partners.

 

Did that say something about Eddie?

 

“Who are you mentally stabbing with your eyes?” Father Brian asked, glancing behind him. “Who’s that?”

 

“That’s Buck’s ex,” Eddie muttered darkly. “I want to barf in his face.”

 

“Yeah… Let’s maybe not do that. The good news? Buck’s on his way. He’ll be here in five.”

 

That snapped Eddie out of his glaring match with the human troll. “Buck’s coming?”

 

“Yeah, Eddie. Buck’s coming.” 

 

“That’s good. I haven’t seen him today,” he murmured. Then suddenly remembered: “Did I tell you about his accident? That really was not fun. But leave it to Buck, the hero—he really is a hero. You should’ve seen him carrying that little girl out of the fire like it was nothing. He’s—he’s just—”

 

Words started tumbling out. Fast, too fast to catch. Eddie couldn’t stop talking about Buck. And Father Brian didn’t try to stop him. He just kept smiling, listening, asking little questions here and there.

 

“Uh, hey, guys.”

 

Eddie’s head snapped toward the voice. “Buuuck,” he grinned, immediately plastering himself to Buck’s torso despite still being seated on the high chair.

 

Buck laughed softly, wrapping his arms around Eddie like it was second nature and Eddie sagged against him. This was home. Buck and Chris were Eddie’s home. “I missed you.”

 

“Missed you too, bud,” Buck replied, playing with the hair at Eddie’s nape. “Evening, Father? How are you?”

 

“Very well, Buck, thank you,” Father Brian replied. 

 

Eddie just kept his face in the crook of Buck’s neck. This felt nice. 

 

“Hi there, Evan.”

 

Eddie’s full body shuddered and he moaned in agony against Buck’s throat.

 

“Uh, hi, Tommy,” Buck said with the strained politeness of someone trying very hard not to deck an ex in front of a priest. But Eddie felt the tension ripple through him like a live wire. He groaned softly into Buck’s neck.

 

“Tell him to move along,” Eddie muttered against Buck’s skin. “Tell him the bar’s closed. Tell him Jesus said no.”

 

“Eddie,” Buck said, half-laughing, half-mortified.

 

“I don’t like his vibe. He smells like polyester and emotional unavailability.”

 

Tommy blinked at the group, clearly caught off guard by Eddie practically plastered onto Buck like a very clingy, tipsy octopus. “Wow. Hey, uh, long time no see, Diaz.”

 

“Not long enough,” Eddie mumbled.

 

Father Brian cleared his throat, placing his ginger ale down with a delicate clink. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

 

“Tommy,” he said, extending a hand.

 

“Father Brian,” the priest replied, shaking it.

 

The troll’s eyes flicked between Eddie wrapped around Buck like a sloth and Buck holding him effortlessly. “So… Evan?”

 

“We’re not,” Buck said quickly.

 

What were they not? Eddie didn’t wonder for too long, because he was actually liking their position. Only… that monstrosity should really leave.

 

Tommy blinked again. “So, you’re just… hugging like that for fun?”

 

Eddie unburied his face, finally turning his flushed, squinting expression toward Tommy. “You don’t hug for fun, Kinard. That’s your problem.”

 

Buck choked.

 

Father Brian looked up at the ceiling like he was asking for divine intervention.

 

“I’m sorry?” Tommy said.

 

“You always gave Buck those cold little side hugs, like you were afraid of catching feelings. Buck gives real hugs. Full-body-and-soul hugs.” Eddie rambled, pointing a vague finger at him.

 

Buck gently lowered his arm a little, trying to shift Eddie’s weight. “Okay, bud, why don’t we sit you up properly—”

 

“No! This is defensive posture. He can’t hit on you if I’m a human barnacle.”

 

“Tommy’s not hitting on me,” Buck said, exasperated but grinning.

 

“Tommy’s always hitting on people,” Eddie replied confidently. “It’s his main personality trait. That and salad.”

 

“I… like salad?” Tommy said.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Father Brian gave Tommy a polite nod. “No offense, but I think your presence is making things… significantly worse.”

 

Tommy put his hands up. “Just trying to catch up with old friends.”

 

“You want a medal for showing up with that rat face of yours?”

 

Buck’s hand gently clamped down on Eddie’s shoulder. “Alright, Eds, maybe let’s keep the name-calling to a minimum?”

 

“I didn’t call him a name,” Eddie muttered. “I called him a face.”

 

Tommy looked amused, which was probably the worst reaction possible. “Wow. This is cozy. You and Buck, huh?”

 

His tone was just smug enough to make Eddie want to lunge. But Eddie was still fully attached to Buck. Arms around his waist, cheek pressed against Buck’s chest like he was a human weighted blanket, Buck awkwardly standing between him and his ex. And Father Brian, who was nursing his ginger ale like it was whiskey and still regretting most of his life choices. He'd probably never invite Eddie for a drink again. 

 

“You know what,” Eddie started, leaning back a little, pointing at Tommy. “You’re a horrible troll.” Quickly, he turned to Buck, “Don’t interrupt me”

 

“Okay,” Tommy said, eyes shifting. “I see some things haven’t changed.”

 

Buck sighed. “Tommy—”

 

“I wasn’t that bad,” Tommy shot back.

 

“You made Buck split a kale smoothie and then complained he was ‘too high energy’,” Eddie said. “And you told Buck to stop laughing so much. Who does that?” He turned toward Father Brian. “Let’s ask a man of God. Father, what do you think about people who try to dim someone else’s light?”

 

Father Brian smiled politely. “Well, I’d say the Lord created all of us with our own unique glow. And anyone who tries to snuff that out… is probably not your soulmate.”

 

Eddie clapped, missing his own hand the first time. “See! Biblical confirmation. Buck is a human glitter bomb and you were trying to put him in a box made of beige.”

 

Tommy just stared. “Are you seriously arguing about our relationship with a priest?”

 

Eddie shrugged. “You brought the devil energy. I brought the holy water.”

 

Buck covered his mouth like he was trying not to laugh.

 

“Father Brian,” Eddie said solemnly, “If I die first, I want you to perform my last rites. Just in case I’m stuck in the same afterlife as him.”

 

Tommy licked his teeth. Then tried again, “Look, I don’t want to make things awkward—”

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Eddie cut in, waving his hand. “You existing already covered that.”

 

Buck let out a strained laugh. “Okayyy. Why don’t we all just—cool down.”

 

Tommy hummed. “Well, clearly I’m not welcome here.”

 

“Glad we’re all caught up!” Eddie waved cheerfully.

 

“Father Brian,” Tommy nodded, like he was somehow the bigger person. “Pleasure meeting you.” Then he finally walked away, muttering something that included the words “absolute lunatic”.

 

“Oh my God,” Buck groaned, burying his face in Eddie’s hair. “You are so drunk.”

 

“I’m honest,” Eddie replied. “Also, your hair smells like salvation. Like coconut and home.”

 

Buck looked up at Father Brian, who was merely sipped his ginger ale and gave a small shrug like, well, you knew what you signed up for.

 

“I don’t know if I should take him home or to confession,” Buck muttered.

 

“Do both,” Eddie whispered. “Let me confess in your bed.”

 

“Okay, time to go,” Buck said, standing and pulling Eddie up with a gentle tug. Eddie swayed into him like a vine to a tree, all tangled limbs and warmth and loyalty.

 

“’m coming,” Eddie said, grabbing Father Brian’s hand briefly. “You’re good company, padre. You should hang out with more sinners.”

 

“I do,” Father Brian replied, patting his hand. “Every Sunday.”

 

“Goodbye, Father,” Buck said, leading Eddie away. “I’m never going outside again,” he muttered.

 

“I protected your honor,” Eddie said proudly.

 

“You almost challenged a man to a duel using vibes alone.”

 

“I would’ve won.”

 

“You don’t even know how duels work.”

 

And how dare Buck? He’d seen Bridgerton.

 

“Pistols at dawn. Or karaoke.”

 

Buck shook his head, laughing, still holding on to Eddie. “We’re going home, lightweight.”

 

“I want a churro,” Eddie declared.

 

“You’ll get Pedialyte and like it.” Buck just sighed, opening the door. “Come on, Romeo. Let’s get you home before you decide to FaceTime my sister next.”

 

Eddie gasped. “I should! I love Maddie.”

 

Buck groaned again. “Please don’t.”

 

Father Brian watched them go, shaking his head fondly. “God help them,” he murmured.

 

And maybe, just maybe, He already was.

 

*

 

Eddie was wrapped like a depressed burrito in Buck’s favorite blanket. He had stolen it last year. He was staring at the ceiling while Buck was cleaning up the remnants of takeout that Eddie insisted on ordering and then immediately forgot about.

 

“Buck,” Eddie whispered, remembering that his son was asleep a few rooms down.

 

Buck didn’t even look up. “No, we’re not calling Father Brian to wish him goodnight.”

 

“That’s not what I was gonna say.”

 

Buck finally turned, those beautiful blue eyes locking with Eddie’s gaze. “What were you gonna say?”

 

Eddie rolled dramatically to his side, still only his face sticking out of the burrito blanket. “Do you think your exes talk to each other?”

 

Buck blinked. “What?”

 

“Like… do they have a group chat. Called… I don’t know, We Bucking Tried or something.”

 

Buck put the containers down. “What the hell is going on in that head of yours?”

 

“Because if they do, I should be in it.”

 

Buck walked over slowly, cautious, like Eddie might say something unhinged.

 

“You… want to be in a group chat with my exes?”

 

Eddie nodded solemnly. “To monitor them.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For inappropriate behavior. And to make sure they know I’m the final boss.”

 

Buck sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay. That’s more than enough Gen Z internet for you.” Buck grabbed a water bottle and crouched down beside the couch. “Drink this.”

 

Eddie eyes it suspiciously. “Is this holy water?”

 

“No, Eddie. Just SmartWater.”

 

Eddie took it with one hand and sipped dramatically. “Do you think God’s mad at me?”

 

Buck blinked. “Why… would God be mad at you?”

 

“I said the f-word seventeen times in front of a priest.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair.”

 

“And I may have asked him if he wanted to join our FaceTime sex cult. I don’t remember anymore.”

 

Buck choked on air. “You what?!”

 

Eddie winced. “I think I didn’t. Don’t worry.”

 

He sat back on his heels, clearly rethinking his entire life. “What is happening right now?”

 

“Do you think we should baptize Chris just to be safe?”

 

Buck grumbled, standing up to resume cleaning. “…God help me.”

 

“Already tried. He said ‘good luck’ and hung up.”

 

*

 

Eddie woke up with what felt like a construction crew jackhammering the inside of his skull. The sunlight filtering through the curtains was way too aggressive, and his mouth felt like sandpaper. For a moment, he didn’t even open his eyes. He just groaned. Loudly.

 

“I’m taking that as a ‘good morning,’” came Buck’s voice, entirely too cheerful. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

 

Eddie cracked one eye open. “I’m not dead?”

 

“Unfortunately for you, no,” Buck said, strolling in and placing a mug and a glass of water on Eddie’s nightstand. “Though you did try to die via tequila, whiskey, and emotional sabotage.”

 

The scent of coffee had Eddie open his other eye as well. Buck was sitting on the edge of his bed, hair damp from a shower, wearing Eddie’s hoodie and sweatpants. He looked like a damn magazine ad for Sunday boyfriends.

 

“I regret everything,” he croaked.

 

Buck offered him a glass of water and a couple of painkillers. “That’s fair. You drank like someone trying to blackmail their liver.”

 

Eddie took the water and downed it in one go. “Did I throw up?”

 

“Nope. Proud of you.”

 

“Did I cry?”

 

Buck hesitated. “Maybe a little during your monologue about how you’re better than Tommy Kinard.”

 

“Ugh,” Eddie flopped back. “I am better than Tommy Kinard. That’s not even up for debate.”

 

“Absolutely,” Buck agreed, reaching over to push Eddie’s hair off his forehead. “You also called Father Brian pretty, tried to FaceTime Christopher to show him the bar, and gave a ten-minute speech on how I should’ve been a zookeeper.”

 

“Okay, that one’s not even embarrassing. You would’ve been a great zookeeper.”

 

“I appreciate that.” Buck chuckled. “You also threatened to fight Tommy with a barstool.”

 

“That one I stand by.”

 

Buck handed him the coffee. “Drink this before you start making more declarations of war.”

 

Eddie took the mug and sipped. Bliss.

 

“Thanks,” he muttered.

 

Buck nodded. “You’re welcome.”

 

Eddie stared at the wall, heart suddenly pounding under the quiet. “Did I say anything else?”

 

“I just got lots of compliments, you practically wrote a sonnet about my eyes,” he replied. “And I didn’t know you’d salivate over my biceps, which, I mean—”

 

“I was drunk, Buck.”

 

“Sure, but drunk-Eddie is honest-Eddie.”

 

“I’m never drinking again.”

 

Buck smiled, all teeth. “You say that every time. I give it until next month when Hen hosts game night.”

 

Eddie took another sip of coffee, trying not to think too hard. Or feel too much. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

 

Buck shrugged like it was obvious. “You called. Of course I came.”

 

Another beat of silence hung in the room, heavy like the steam off his coffee. Eddie stared into the mug like maybe, just maybe, it held the secrets of the universe—or at the very least, the answer to why his life felt like it was constantly being held together by duct tape and Buck.

 

“Shit. What time is it? Chris—”

 

“—was fed and dropped off at school by yours truly,” Buck interrupted smoothly, dipping his chin in a mock bow, like he was accepting a medal for Services to the Diaz Family.

 

Eddie blinked at him. Then blinked again. He really looked at him. The tousled hair, the soft gray hoodie, the effortless competence wrapped in absurdly pretty blue eyes.

 

“What would I do without you?”

 

Buck snorted, heading for the kitchen. “Drink cold coffee and accidentally pack Chris two forks instead of a sandwich. Again. Now go shower, I’m making you breakfast.”

 

Eddie watched him walk away, still holding the mug like it might anchor him to Earth.

 

What would he do without Buck?

 

What if Buck—beautiful, capable, loving Buck—met someone actually worthy of him? Like, some nice, functional person who had throw pillows and a good relationship with their parents. They’d have amazing sex, and go on real dates where people wore scarves, and maybe they’d—God forbid—get married. Then what? What was Eddie supposed to do? Be their weird third wheel forever? Babysit their dog while they honeymooned in Italy?

 

What if it was someone like Tommy? Or Taylor? Or—God help him—a fusion of both. A Taymy. Or a Tomlor. That cursed old woman from Buck’s past suddenly flashed in his mind—what’s-her-name—the one Maddie once referred to as “I wonder how many people she turned gay.”

 

“Jesus,” Eddie muttered to himself.

 

“Eddie!” Buck called from down the hall. “Shower!”

 

“Yes, Mom!” Eddie shouted back instinctively, wincing when he realized how loud it was. Then his brain, because it hated him, took one very specific turn.

 

He smirked, dragging a hand down his face.

 

“…Yes, Daddy,” he whispered to himself.

Chapter 10

Notes:

#idiotsinlove

thats all

Buck’s bracelet buzzed twice, once short, once long. He didn’t’ even need to look. The patterns had been burned in his mind. Still, he checked.

 

CODE ORANGE – ROOM 7 – PRIORITY FLAGGED: BUCK

 

He pressed the side button, jaw flexing as he slid off the barstool. The ice in his untouched faux bourbon clicked quietly behind him. The buzz of Crimson’s lounge—sensual laughter, the dull pulse of low-tempo music, bodies pressed together in velvet alcoves—dimmed in his mind.

 

Code Orange stood for escalated discomfort or distress. Someone was panicking, disassociating, or showing signs of trauma mid- or post-scene. They might need intervention, but no physical harm was caused.

 

His boots barely made a sound on the padded floor as he passed the front dungeon quickly. One of the junior Doms made eye contact and nodded subtly, offering silent backup if needed. Buck didn’t acknowledge it, just kept walking.

 

Room 7 was in the velvet corridor, just off the main lounge. Private enough to muffle sounds but close enough for eyes to stay on it. As Buck reached the door, the red light above it blinked—a sign someone inside had activated the room’s internal alert.

 

He didn’t knock. Just opened the door.

 

Immediately, the smell hit him—burnt candle wax, latex, something sharp and wrong like adrenaline and rising panic. The overhead light had been dimmed to a soft amber glow, casting long shadows along the edges of the room. A submissive sat curled at the end of a padded bench, her back pressed hard to the corner wall, legs pulled to her chest. Trembling. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were ghost-white, nails digging into her arms.

 

Buck took all of that in, then shifted to the man standing three feet away from her. Her Dom, a newer member Buck vaguely recognized but didn’t know well, hovered nearby with both hands raised like he didn’t dare approach.

 

Tall. Nervous. Overcompensating.

 

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said instantly, palms still up like he was already defending himself in a courtroom. “We negotiated the scene ahead of time. She said she liked restraint and edge play. I even double-checked the blade before—”

 

Buck pointed at him. “Not your moment. Step back.”

 

The man hesitated.

 

“I said—step. Back.”

 

The firm bite in Buck’s voice made the man retreat two steps and then freeze, jaw clenched. Buck barely spared him a glance.

 

He crouched slowly, coming down to the sub’s level. Made sure not to get too close. Not yet. She was breathing fast, too fast. Her pupils were blown, sweat beading at her temples. Frozen. Disassociating. Definitely Code Orange.

 

Buck kept his voice low. Steady. Nothing commanding in his tone, just the warmth of gravity. “Hey, my name is Buck. You’re safe, alright? No one’s gonna touch you without your say-so.”

 

No reaction.

 

“Can you tell me your name?” he asked.

 

No answer. But she blinked, finally locking her eyes with his. Her body trembled like a tuning fork, vibrating with unspoken panic, hands trembling so hard it made her bracelets clink.

 

Buck sat fully on the floor now, cross-legged, just breathing. Matching her rhythm at first, then slowly slowing his own. She eyed him.

 

“You’re doing so good. You’re not in trouble,” he said, voice quiet. “You did exactly what you were supposed to. You tapped the room signal. That’s brave as hell. I’m proud of you.”

 

Still no words. But her breathing began to shift—less shallow. Buck leaned just a little closer, gaze soft.

 

“Do you want me to stay here with you? Just sit? Or would you prefer someone else?”

 

Her lips parted, a barely-there whisper: “Stay.”

 

He felt it in his chest. That word. The trust it took.

 

Buck nodded once. “Okay. Staying right here.”

 

The Dom behind him spoke again, quieter this time. “I didn’t ignore her safe word. She didn’t even say it. I thought she was just… roleplaying being scared, y’know?”

 

Buck didn’t turn around. “You’re done for the night. Get into the corridor. You don’t move until staff comes to speak with you. Understand?”

 

A beat of silence. Then a reluctant: “Yeah.”

 

The door clicked as a staff member stepped in to escort the Dom out. The room settled.

 

Buck exhaled, so did the sub. She was still curled up, but her hands were looser now. Her eyes, still wide, found his again.

 

“You want some water?” he asked the sub. “Or a blanket? You’re cold, yeah?”

 

Her lip trembled. Finally, she whispered, “Blanket.”

 

That single word cracked something in Buck's chest. Relief. The beginning of a way back.

 

He stood slowly, keeping one eye on her, and pulled a folded throw from the wall bin. It was soft fleece—Crimson kept a stack in every private room for this exact reason. He unfolded it, crouched again, and eased it around her shoulders like he was draping it over cracked porcelain.

 

When the blanket settled, she took a deep breath. It shuddered on the way out, but it was the first full breath she’d taken since he’d walked in.

 

“You’re safe,” Buck said again. “Nothing else is gonna happen tonight unless you want it. Staff will do a debrief later, but there’s no rush.”

 

He stayed with her. Quiet. Steady. Until her gaze focused. A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away fast, embarrassed.

 

“Hey,” he said gently. “No shame in feeling too much. Your brain hit the redline. You need time to cool off. That’s all.”

 

She looked at him then, really looked. Her voice was hoarse. “I thought I was fine. I liked everything before but… I saw the knife and it just—something snapped.”

 

Buck nodded. “Doesn’t matter how many good scenes you’ve had before. Trauma doesn’t care about your checklist. It can sneak in sideways. You did the right thing. I’m glad you called me.”

 

A breathless, relieved laugh broke from her lips. “Me too.” More tears followed.

 

And Buck just sat with her in silence. There was no way for him to take away her pain. He didn’t even know her name, let alone what had happened in her past. So, he did what he always did. Sit there. Be there for another person.

 

A knock at the door. One of the caretakers peeked in—Lena, one of the best.

 

Buck stood. “She’s ready for aftercare,” he said, glancing back at the sub. “This is Lena. Sometimes women prefer other women, which is why you may choose who does your aftercare.”

 

She winced, looking away from Buck. “I want her,” she whispered.

 

Buck smiled softly. “Perfect choice.”

 

The sub looked up at him, almost confused at his tone. Lena came in, voice low and calming, and Buck stepped out into the hallway, the door shutting gently behind him. Only then did he let his shoulders drop.

 

The red glow above the door blinked once more—then turned green.

 

Code orange resolved.

 

Buck exhaled as he stepped back into the main corridor. The familiar low thrum of Crimson enveloped him once more. Another Dom passed him, tall and sharply dressed in leather accents.

 

“Good job,” she murmured, patting his shoulder in passing.

 

Buck gave a small nod, the kind that said thanks without opening the door for more. He moved further through the space, like some outsider. Not so long ago, he had belonged here, but his body didn’t fully relax. Couldn’t. Not since he and Eddie had signed their long-term contract. Ever since then, he hadn’t come to Crimson for release. It would feel like cheating.

 

Even if he wasn’t here to play, was just some fixture on the emergency response list, some help down at the front desk or behind the bar, it still sometimes felt like walking a line. But Eddie had read the contract too, had signed it with steady hands. He knew Buck. He knew what this place meant to him.

 

He slid back onto the barstool he’d vacated earlier. Before he could speak Juno, tall and sleek and always a little too observant, placed another glass in front of him. Same drink. Alcohol-free bourbon, neat. Crimson obviously didn’t serve alcohol.

 

“You gonna actually drink this one?” they asked, arching an amused brow.

 

Buck gave a dry chuckle. “No promises.”

 

“You did good. Heard it was a Code Orange.”

 

“Yeah,” he murmured, picking up the glass. “Young sub froze during edge play. Wasn’t about the blade, not really. Clearly trauma flashback.”

 

Juno nodded, wiping the inside of a martini glass. “You always know what to say in those moments. Some doms bulldoze. You sit down and breathe.”

 

“It’s not that complicated,” Buck said quietly. “You just listen.”

 

Juno set the glass aside and reached beneath the counter. “Your phone.” She placed it beside his drink.

 

“Thanks.” He picked it up, thumb already sliding over the screen to check for messages.

 

Two texts. Both from Eddie.

 

Eddie: Why aren’t you opening the door?

 

Then almost ten minutes later.

 

Eddie: Buck? Where are you? I’m at your place.

 

Buck sighed. He could’ve been with Eddie right now.

 

Buck: sorry! @ crimson rn

 

He watched the screen, waiting for a reply. The little “read” icon appeared within seconds. But… nothing else. No reply. No call.

 

Buck stared at the screen like it might suddenly bloom with an answer, nerves still frayed from the code Orange. It was fine. Nothing like a Code Red or a Code Black.

 

He let out a breath through his nose, set the phone down, and took a sip of his drink this time. The warmth was artificial, but the comfort was real.

 

“You okay?” Juno asked, softer this time.

 

“Yeah.” He glanced around the room. “Selina’s in tonight. First scene since…”

 

He didn’t finish the sentence. Juno didn’t need him to.

 

“I remember,” they said. “You paired her with French, right?”

 

“Yeah. Figured she’d do well with someone experienced. Someone soft, but unshakable. French is a goddamn anchor.”

 

“She is,” Juno agreed. “Selina’s lucky to have you.”

 

Buck didn’t reply. His eyes flicked toward the hallway that led to the private rooms. And as if summoned by thought, Selina appeared. She looked… radiant. Relaxed in a way Buck hadn’t seen in months. Her cheeks were flushed, her steps light. Her hair was slightly mussed, and she was wrapped in a deep red aftercare blanket like it was armor. She caught sight of Buck and changed course immediately, beaming as she reached the bar.

 

“How’d it go?” he asked, eyes scanning her with quiet care.

 

She nodded, a little breathless. “It was good. She was everything I needed her to be. Patient. Present. We went slow, but I… I let go.”

 

Buck gave her a rare smile. “Proud of you.”

 

Selina laughed softly. “French said I did well.”

 

“You did.”

 

She bumped her shoulder against his before stepping away toward the aftercare lounge, a faint hum on her lips. Buck watched her go. A small knot in his chest eased.

 

And then his thoughts drifted.

 

Why hadn’t Eddie replied?

 

He picked up the phone again, thumb hovering over the screen. Realization came like a slap.

 

Shit. Shit. Fuck.

 

Eddie probably thought he’d come to Crimson to scene. To play. To break the contract—not in words, but in intent.

 

He fumbled out a new message, heart thudding, thumbs stumbling across the keyboard.

 

Buck: im not here to scene btw

 

Buck: just helping out

 

Buck: with codes i mean obv

 

Buck: like with selina remember?

 

He stared at the screen for a moment, but Eddie didn’t read them.

 

Buck: why u not replying?

 

Buck: u mad or smth?

 

His knee bounced under the bar. He stared at the screen, heart hammering harder than it had during the code orange. Eddie finally read the messages.

 

But…

 

No dots. No reply. Just read. And silence. And suddenly, Buck didn’t feel like the calm-in-a-crisis guy anymore. He set his phone face-down on the bar, but it didn’t stop the way his eyes kept drifting toward it. Every few seconds, as if it might buzz. Light up. Explain something.

 

Nothing.

 

Juno poured a drink for someone else down the bar, shot Buck a glance. “You look like you’re waiting on bad news.”

 

He blew out a slow breath. “Maybe.”

 

“Eddie?”

 

Buck gave a short nod.

 

“You want to talk about it, or want me to shut up and refill that bourbon?”

 

“Little of both.”

 

Juno smirked but didn’t press, sliding his glass an inch closer with a clean flick of their fingers.

 

He picked up his phone again. Screen still blank. Time ticking forward, minute by minute, like a countdown to something he didn’t want to name.

 

Juno leaned a hip on the back counter. “You gonna text him again?”

 

“I don’t wanna spam him.” He paused. “But yeah.”

 

He typed again, slower this time.

 

Buck: talk to me eddie

 

Buck: dont ignore me

 

Buck: are you okay?

 

Buck: should i call fucking 911?????

 

The moment he hit send, Buck leaned forward, elbows on the bar, forehead resting against his fists.

 

The screen stayed dark.

 

Five seconds.

 

Ten.

 

Twenty.

 

His chest felt too tight. Like he’d been holding a breath for ten minutes and couldn’t remember how to let it out.

 

Then—

 

Buzz.

 

He flinched, nearly knocked over his glass trying to grab his phone.

 

Eddie: No need. I’m okay.

 

Just those four wors. Buck stared at them, waiting for more. Waiting for typing dots. A follow-up. Something.

 

God, why did it ache like this?

 

Why was he calm as hell in a code orange, soothing strangers in restraints, but this—this—made him feel like he was freefalling with no one to catch him? Why did it feel like he could lose Eddie at any moment? Why did that thought tear his heart apart?

 

He downed the rest of his faux bourbon, the burn completely unsatisfying, and set the glass down with more force than intended. Juno raised an eyebrow as they refilled it.

 

He kept staring at his screen. Even after it had turned black.

 

“You’re looking at that screen like it owes you money,” Juno muttered.

 

“It might owe me everything,” Buck said quietly, not entirely joking.

 

His phone buzzed again.

 

Eddie: I’m outside.

 

Buck stood up so fast his stool scraped the floor. “Shit.”

 

Juno’s brows lifted. “Buck?”

 

“Be right back,” he called over his shoulder, already heading to the entrance.

 

At the front desk, he flashed his emergency bracelet. “Two minutes, I swear.”

 

The guy nodded, eyes flicking to the tension carved into Buck’s shoulders.

 

Outside, the air was cool and crisp, a slight breeze cutting through the heat still simmering in his chest. And there, across the street under the glare of a streetlamp, stood Eddie. Arms crossed, looking at the building like it was a living thing that had personally insulted him.

 

Buck jogged over. “Uh… hey. Hey, Eddie.”

 

Eddie turned his head. “Hey.”

 

Buck slowed, suddenly unsure. “You okay? What’s going on?”

 

Eddie just shrugged.

 

And then he was there—stepping into Buck’s space like it was instinct, burying his face into Buck’s neck. Buck didn’t even think, his arms wrapped around him instantly, holding tight. He ducked his head, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s hairline, to the soft, furrowed skin of his brow.

 

“Hey,” Buck murmured, voice gentler now, “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

 

Eddie didn’t answer. Just stood there, breathing like he hadn’t since the afternoon. Finally, with a sigh that sounded scraped out of him, he spoke.

 

“My parents showed up.”

 

Buck blinked. “Today?”

 

“This afternoon. No warning. They’re ‘in town for the weekend,’ whatever the hell that means.”

 

“Oh,” Buck said. Quietly, cautiously.

 

“And they’re already trying to rearrange my kitchen. I got home and they were measuring the couch for a replacement.” Eddie huffed against his shoulder. “Chris is asleep. I couldn’t deal. I just… I needed out.”

 

Buck's hold tightened. “I’m sorry.” Buck’s jaw tensed. “It’s just… Selina had her first scene back tonight, and I promised I’d be here in case something went sideways.”

 

“I know that now,” Eddie said, but his voice had softened. “But when I walked into your place and it was empty…”

 

“Yeah,” Buck whispered. “I get it.”

 

They stood there for a beat, city noise humming around them, but wrapped in their own quiet.

 

Buck leaned a bit back to look Eddie in the eye, tilting his head. “Wanna stay with me tonight? Once I’m done here?”

 

Eddie hesitated. “Can I just… wait inside? For you to be done?”

 

Buck’s brows lifted. “At Crimson?”

 

Eddie hated Crimson. With all his heart.

 

Eddie gave a dry smile. “I promise not to accuse anyone of corrupting you.”

 

Buck grinned, kissed his temple. “Deal.”

 

He reached down and took Eddie’s hand, weaving their fingers together. “C’mon. I know the perfect chair with your name on it and a bartender who makes a mean fake old-fashioned.”

 

“And doesn’t judge?” Eddie muttered as they crossed the street.

 

“Juno? No. But they will roast you if you order something fruity and don’t tip.”

 

Buck kept a careful eye on Eddie as they re-entered the main lounge. The air inside Crimson was still low and slow, pulsing with soft music and the scent of sandalwood and something darker underneath. But Eddie moved like someone walking through a haunted house—shoulders too tight, hands shoved too deep into his jacket pockets, eyes darting too fast to settle.

 

He clocked a Dom leading her kneeling submissive toward one of the velvet-lined corridors, a leash looped loosely in her hand.

 

Eddie’s gaze snagged on them. Froze there.

 

Buck leaned in, voice low and gentle. “Hey. Staring’s impolite.”

 

Eddie blinked, ripped his eyes away, cheeks darkening. “Right. Sorry.”

 

Buck softened it with a bump of his shoulder. “You’re doing fine.”

 

Eddie snorted. “I feel like I just walked into an alien planet.”

 

Buck smirked. “Yeah? Well, try not to get abducted.”

 

They made it back to the bar, where Juno was stacking glasses with unhurried grace. As soon as they spotted Buck, they lit up—then their eyes landed on Eddie, and their brows shot up.

 

“Well, well,” they said, drawing out the words with theatrical curiosity. “The infamous Eddie in the flesh.”

 

Eddie shot Buck a narrow glance. “Infamous?”

 

Buck rolled his eyes, but his ears went a little pink. “Ignore them.”

 

“He never said a bad thing,” Juno defended, already reaching beneath the bar. “Mostly just that you existed. And we know you have Buck wrapped around your pinky.”

 

Buck groaned softly, burying his face in his hand. “I hate you.”

 

“You love me,” they sing-songed, then popped back up and handed over Buck’s phone. “You left this with me again. Ran out like the building was on fire.”

 

Buck slipped it into his pocket, offering a quick, quiet “Thanks,” before steering Eddie toward a pair of stools.

 

They sat. Eddie glanced around again, his eyes doing laps around the room like they might catch something inappropriate at any second. Which, Buck had to admit, was entirely possible in a place like Crimson.

 

“Want a drink?” Buck asked, already waving Juno over.

 

Eddie nodded.

 

Juno brought them two glasses—one with Buck’s usual bourbon (zero-proof, of course), the other a simple, clean gin and tonic replica. “For the guest of honor,” she said with a wink.

 

Eddie murmured his thanks but kept his eyes on the drink like it might judge him.

 

They sat in relative quiet for a while, sipping, letting the space breathe around them.

 

Buck stole a glance at the clock above the bar. Twenty more minutes until his replacement from the emergency Dom pool arrived. He didn’t want to leave Eddie alone, but he’d have to slip away—just briefly. Protocol.

 

Eddie caught him looking. “You still on duty?”

 

“Yeah, but it’s nothing heavy. Just here in case another alarm goes off. Someone’s taking over in a bit.”

 

Eddie nodded, then looked away again. Toward a couple curled up on a couch across the room. The Dom was stroking her sub’s hair with slow, deliberate care, and the sub was boneless in her lap, eyes closed, peaceful.

 

Buck saw the way Eddie’s jaw tightened, the way he seemed to both get it and not get it at the same time.

 

“It’s not all paddles and ropes, y’know,” Buck said quietly.

 

Eddie’s gaze slid back to him. “I know,” he breathed.

 

“Sometimes it’s just… trust. Letting go. Giving someone the space to fall apart.”

 

Eddie looked back at the couple, then down at his drink. He nodded. Once.

 

Buck didn’t press further. Just bumped his knee against Eddie’s under the bar and let the silence settle again. The gin and tonic was nearly gone by the time Eddie finally spoke again.

 

“This place is…” He exhaled slowly. “A lot.”

 

Buck tipped his head. “Yeah. First time is always a lot. Doesn’t help that you hate it.”

 

Eddie’s mouth twitched. “I didn’t say that.”

 

“You didn’t have to.” Buck swirled the last of his bourbon around the glass. “You’ve been looking at the walls like they might lick you. Besides, the way you have been acting every time I talk about the club is very clear.”

 

Eddie snorted, but didn’t argue. “I just needed out of the house.”

 

Buck leaned an elbow on the bar, body angled toward him. “You wanna talk about that, or you want me to shut up and let you drink? It’s alcohol-free by the way.”

 

“Figured.” Eddie hesitated. His fingers tapped once on the rim of the glass. “They showed up this afternoon. Surprise visit. Said they were here to spend time with Chris.” He glanced down. “Didn’t ask. Didn’t tell me they were coming. Just… let themselves in.”

 

Buck winced. “That sucks.”

 

Eddie nodded once. “They took over the whole place. Chris went to bed and I realized I had nowhere to be in my own home. Couldn’t even sit down.”

 

“So, you drove to a kink club instead?” Buck teased lightly.

 

Eddie gave him a flat look. “I drove to you.”

 

Buck felt like someone had punched him in the chest. Right behind his ribs.

 

Eddie looked at him, and his voice came quiet. “I came here because you always make space for me.”

 

Buck swallowed hard. He didn’t have a good reply to that, not one that wouldn’t spill too much of something he was still figuring out how to name. So he nudged Eddie’s glass with his own instead.

 

“Well,” Buck said softly. “I’ve got fifteen minutes and a pocket full of silence, if that’s what you need.”

 

Eddie smiled, small and real. “That sounds about right.”

 

They clinked glasses.

 

Juno slid past, dropping a bowl of pretzels between them without a word. Eddie looked at them like they’d just delivered gold.

 

“They read minds,” Buck said. “It’s creepy.”

 

“They read you,” Eddie corrected.

 

Buck laughed softly, gaze tipping down because he wasn’t sure how to hold that much affection at once. He wanted to say something, but before the words could come, a high, bright voice sliced through the hum of the club behind them.

 

“Buck! Buck, I fucking love you, you’re the best—”

 

Before he could react, Selina practically launched herself at him from the side, arms wrapping around his neck, her perfume a dizzy mix of vanilla and something floral. She squeezed him hard, the kind of hug that knocked the air out of his lungs and made him chuckle even as he caught his glass with one hand.

 

“Well,” Buck said, muffled. “Hello to you too.”

 

Eddie had turned on his stool, brows lifted, watching the scene unfold with quiet amusement.

 

Selina pulled back a little, still beaming, then finally noticed the man sitting beside Buck. She froze mid-grin. “Oh—sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just—I got excited.”

 

Buck rubbed at the back of his neck, a little pink again. “Selina, this is Eddie. Eddie, Selina.”

 

Eddie smiled, polite. “Hi.”

 

“Oh, wow,” Selina said, suddenly sheepish. “You're Eddie.” She glanced at Buck with a flicker of something like understanding, then quickly looked back at Eddie and offered her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard—uh, a lot. All good things. Promise.”

 

Eddie took her hand, lips twitching. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

 

Selina laughed. “Fair. I did just crash your moment.”

 

Buck grinned. “You did, but it’s fine. What’s going on?”

 

Selina bounced on her heels. “You paired me with French tonight and it was perfect. Like, instant click, Buck. I’ve never had a scene feel that balanced. I don’t know how you do it, but seriously. Thank you.”

 

Buck’s face lit up. “That’s amazing, Sel. I’m glad it worked.”

 

She reached out and squeezed his forearm once more, then looked between the two of them, clearly catching something that wasn’t there. Not really. “I’m gonna let you guys get back to it,” she said, backing away. “But I owe you a drink or five.”

 

“You owe me nothing,” Buck called after her.

 

Eddie watched her go, then turned back, amused. “Wow. You’re famous here.”

 

Buck snorted. “Hardly. I’m just the guy who tries to keep everyone sane.”

 

“I’m pretty sure Selina would give you a kidney if you asked.”

 

“Only one,” Buck deadpanned. “I’ve got to keep my standards realistic.”

 

They both laughed.

 

Lena approached from the far hallway, her long braid slightly unraveled.

 

“Hey, Buck,” she said, her voice warm but tired. “Just came from aftercare. Gill’s finally stable. She’ll be staying here tonight, she’s resting now. Red stayed with her.”

 

Buck let out a soft breath of relief. “Thanks for the update. That was a rough one.”

 

Lena nodded. “Yeah. But I think she’ll be okay.” Then she noticed Eddie and offered a small smile. “Evening.”

 

Eddie nodded back. “Evening.”

 

She gave Buck a last pat on the shoulder before disappearing back toward the staff wing.

 

Buck checked his watch. Five minutes left.

 

He turned back to Eddie. “You know our seventy-two starts tomorrow.”

 

Eddie raised a brow. “You mean our seventy-two off?”

 

Buck smirked. “I mean seventy-two hours of no responsibility. No radios. No emergency texts. Just the loft and a stocked fridge and, if I remember correctly…”

 

Eddie looked away, cheeks flaming.

 

“You sure you still want to do it?” Buck asked. “With your parents in town.”

 

Eddie’s smile was slow, sure, as he turned back to face Buck. “I already told them they won’t be seeing me for seventy-two hours. I really need this, Buck.”

 

Buck’s heart gave one of those small, inconvenient stutters. He took a sip from his glass to hide it.

 

He knew that look on Eddie. Knew it down to the way his voice went soft when he meant something, how his eyes held steady even when his cheeks were pink. Eddie didn’t say things unless he meant them. And he really meant this.

 

“Okay,” Buck said, almost too softly. “Then it’s on.”

Chapter 11

Notes:

almost 6000 words of smut, yeah, yeah *dance party*

Eddie’s heart still hadn’t settled. Not last night, when they’d just slept beside each other in Buck’s bed—fully clothed, barely touching, the space between them thick with unspoken questions and heat. Not in the morning when Buck had dragged him out for groceries, claiming with a sheepish grin that the fridge was technically stocked, just not with “real food”.

 

Not when they returned with way too many snacks and stood side-by-side chopping vegetables like it was any other weekend. Not during the lazy afternoon spent flipping through streaming apps, neither of them watching much of anything, pretending to game while tension simmered quietly between them.

 

Not even during dinner, when Buck kept sneaking glances like he was trying to read Eddie’s mind. Like he was waiting for the first sign of panic or retreat.

 

But now? Now, standing under the warm spray of Buck’s shower, Eddie could practically hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears.

 

He stared at the shelf where Buck had left a neatly folded towel, a small bottle of lube, latex gloves, and—God help him—an anal cleansing kit.

 

“I left you some things,” Buck had said earlier, his voice calm, careful. “It’s more for your peace of mind than for me, honestly.”

 

Peace of mind.

 

Was that what this was? Because all Eddie felt was pressure. Like the air around him was getting heavier by the second.

 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want this. He did. He really did. He wanted Buck. Had wanted him for longer than he dared to admit, even to himself. But wanting someone didn’t magically erase years of conditioning. It didn’t rewrite the script his body had lived by. It didn’t take into account how his parents would react if they ever found out.

 

He wrapped a hand around the cool tile and took a deep breath.

 

They were really going to do this.

 

Well—technically, not today. Today, Buck had said, was about comfort. About easing into it, learning Eddie’s reactions. He’d whispered, low and warm, that he was going to take his time. Finger Eddie open slowly. Eat him out. Insert the plug he’d picked out specifically for him, let his body get used to it before they did anything more tomorrow. Just the memory of Buck’s voice had Eddie pressing his thighs together in the shower, heat rolling through him like a slow-moving wave. But that voice in his head, the one that always kicked in when he was too close to something he wanted, was screaming now.

 

What if you’re bad at this? What if it hurts? What if Buck realizes you’re not built for this? What if this is the moment you prove all your doubts right?

 

He shut his eyes and leaned into the spray.

 

This wasn’t fear. Not really.

 

It was vulnerability.

 

Letting Buck see him like this—see him undone, uncertain, open—wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. And Eddie Diaz had spent years keeping the most delicate parts of himself under lock and key. But Buck didn’t just want his body. He was his best friend. He’d made it very clear that he’d be focused on what Eddie needed. And Eddie wasn’t going to say no. He was terrified. But he was ready.

 

Well… ready-ish.

 

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath, glancing again at the little tray of supplies. “Okay. One step at a time.”

 

He reached for the gloves, heart hammering, breath uneven. Not quite sure where this road was taking him, only that he trusted who he was walking it with.

 

*

 

The bathroom was full of steam, curls of it clinging to Eddie’s skin like a second, thinner towel. He stared at his reflection for a long time before finally dragging the door open, hoping the fog in his chest would lift along with the condensation.

 

The bedroom lights were low. Not off—just enough to see clearly without anything feeling harsh or sterile. A warm amber glow painted the walls, softening everything it touched. Music played low, pulsing through the room like a heartbeat. Not a song he knew, but something instrumental, smooth and slow, almost hypnotic.

 

He blinked.

 

Buck had changed the sheets.

 

They were gray, the soft kind that almost looked silver when the light hit them right. The kind that made you want to lie back and let someone else do the thinking. Eddie had joked about it once, something about Buck’s taste being dangerously close to luxury, and he’d laughed it off—but clearly Buck had remembered.

 

And then there was Buck himself.

 

Standing at the foot of the bed, shirtless, wearing those damned sleep pants that clung just enough to drive a man crazy. His chest was golden in the lamp light, broad and steady, like something to hold onto in a storm.

 

Eddie’s mouth was suddenly dry. Or maybe it was too wet—he couldn’t tell anymore.

 

“You okay?” Buck asked, voice low and warm like a familiar blanket.

 

“No. Yes. I don’t—” Eddie blew out a slow breath and laughed, shaky. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

 

Buck smiled. “You’re not. You’re just brave enough to notice the fear.”

 

Eddie blinked at him, that slow, aching tug in his chest pulling harder. Jesus. Buck always knew exactly what to say without turning it into something delicate or humiliating. He was just… there. Steady. Always.

 

“You wanna come here?” Buck asked gently, stepping forward, hand out.

 

Eddie nodded before he could think too hard about it.

 

Buck didn’t take the towel away, not right away. He just stood there in front of Eddie, close enough that Eddie could feel the heat radiating off his skin in slow, pulsing waves. And when Buck’s hand came up—just his palm, broad and warm, sliding up Eddie’s bare arm—it was almost nothing. Barely a caress.

 

But Eddie still felt it like a jolt. Like the air changed around them.

 

Buck’s other hand found his waist, resting feather-light just above the knot of the towel. His thumb moved in soft circles there, and Eddie's stomach clenched—and not because he was afraid.

 

Then Buck reached to the side, Eddie hadn’t even noticed the smaller towel waiting, and brought it to his shoulders, pressing gently, drying him in slow, reverent strokes. Across his collarbone, over the ridges of his arms, down each bicep like he was mapping him with fabric instead of fingers.

 

Eddie’s skin burned with every pass.

 

His breath hitched when Buck worked over his chest, over his nipples. The towel was warm and soft, but it was Buck’s hands underneath that made him shiver. Not from cold, but from everything else. From the way his nerves lit up like fuse lines, from how his body leaned into it without permission.

 

And God, how was this already turning him on?

 

Just Buck drying him off—gently. Tenderly. No heavy kissing yet, no rough touches, and still Eddie’s heart was thudding like he’d been caught doing something sinful. He tried not to shift under Buck’s hands, but his thighs clenched anyway. His cock was half-hard and growing, and the worst part? Buck hadn’t even touched him there. Hadn’t done anything except look at him like he was worth taking his time on. It was ridiculous, how sensitive he felt. How easy it was for Buck to unravel him with barely any effort.

 

And then Buck knelt.

 

Eddie bit his lip, afraid the obscenest sound ever would leave his mouth.

 

He just sank to his knees like it was nothing. Like it was normal for someone to kneel in front of Eddie Diaz, army medic, firefighter, father, nervous wreck—and still make him feel like something sacred.

 

Buck’s hands moved down his calves, drying carefully, then up the sides of his thighs in long, smooth strokes. They stopped just beneath the edge of the towel.

 

Eddie’s breath hitched again. His skin felt stretched too tight, and he was sure Buck could see it—how red he must be, how close to trembling.

 

“You’re so tense,” Buck murmured, voice low, eyes up on him.

 

Eddie’s cheeks burned. He forced a swallow. “I’m… trying not to be.”

 

A smile played at Buck’s lips, slow and devastating. “You don’t have to try anything.” He rose again, and even that—just the way Buck stood—was sexy, fluid, controlled. “You just have to feel. That’s all tonight is.”

 

And then, very deliberately, Buck reached for the knot at Eddie’s hip. He locked their eyes together and Eddie’s heart climbed up into his throat. But he didn’t stop him. He let Buck’s fingers untwist the towel slowly, like he was unwrapping a gift he didn’t want to tear. The towel fell warm and damp to the floor, and Eddie stood there, completely exposed. Skin flushed, breath shallow, already hardening from nothing but touch and attention.

 

“You shaved,” Buck observed.

 

And the way Buck looked at him—God, it nearly undid him. Not like Eddie was a man to be conquered, but like he was already wanted. Already seen. Like Buck had been waiting for this for years. Just like Eddie had.

 

“Thought you might prefer it,” Eddie finally replied.

 

Buck stepped closer, and this time, there was nothing between them. Bare chest to bare chest. Heat to heat. “Honestly, couldn’t care any less,” he whispered, voice thick and impossibly soft. “C’mere.”

 

And Eddie went—because how could he not? He stepped into Buck’s arms, into the warmth of his body, and let himself be pulled in.

 

Buck didn’t just kiss him. No, Buck’s mouth claimed his with a slow, deliberate hunger that dragged Eddie under like a tide. Their lips parted and Buck’s tongue slipped in, wet and demanding, teasing at Eddie’s before sliding against the inside of his mouth with a possessive slickness. It wasn’t gentle. More like a claim, rough and raw and full of promise.

 

His hands tangled in Eddie’s hair, fingers curling tight, pulling him closer, deeper. Eddie gasped into the kiss as Buck’s other hand slid down, tracing the hard line of his jaw, then sliding to the back of his neck, pressing, holding. He bit at Eddie’s bottom lip, then sucked it between his teeth, flicking it with a sharpness that made Eddie’s breath catch and his cock throb harder against Buck’s thigh. Buck kissed like he meant it. Like he needed to remind Eddie that all he had to be right here, right now, was his body, his breath, his want. Like he was marking him without words, staking a claim with every lick and press and growl muffled in Eddie’s mouth.

 

Eddie’s knees almost buckled. His skin flushed hot, heart pounding loud enough to drown out every nervous thought. He was embarrassed—God, so embarrassed—that something so soft, so deliberately tender, could set him on fire like this. But he was grateful, too. So damn grateful.

 

Grateful it was Buck.

 

Grateful he didn’t have to hide behind walls or masks or a stiff grin anymore.

 

Grateful that finally, someone wanted him like this—raw, real, and utterly undone.

 

Buck pulled back with a small groan. “Come, baby.”

 

He led Eddie to his bed. The bed dipped slightly under Eddie’s knees as he climbed in, still not quite believing this was real. That Buck wanted him like this—not just in passing touches and knowing smiles, but in skin and hands and heat and intimacy. It was both grounding and disorienting.

 

And just before Buck could climb into bed, Eddie opened his mouth, “Take off your pants.”

 

Buck grinned at him but did what he wanted before he followed Eddie onto the bed. Moving with that same quiet, steady confidence Eddie had come to crave. He settled beside him, legs warm where they touched, one arm folded under his head as he looked at Eddie like he was trying to memorize him.

 

“You okay?” Buck asked again, softer now, barely louder than the music still humming in the background.

 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Just…”

 

“Overthinking?”

 

Eddie let out a short breath of a laugh. “Always.”

 

Buck leaned in and kissed his shoulder. Just that—bare lips to bare skin. It was such a simple thing, but it sent a flicker of heat all the way down Eddie’s spine.

 

“I’m gonna touch you,” Buck murmured, hand resting lightly on Eddie’s thigh. “Not for the end goal. Not yet. Just to let you feel.”

 

“Okay,” Eddie whispered, though it felt like permission he’d already given just by being here.

 

Buck started with his hand on Eddie’s chest. Warm, firm. His palm moved slow and sure, tracing the curve of Eddie’s pec, following the line of his sternum, brushing over the faint edge of old scars like they were sacred landmarks. He wasn’t grabbing or groping—just learning. Like Buck had mapped him in his mind and now needed his hands to confirm it.

 

Eddie’s breath stuttered when Buck’s thumb brushed over his nipple. First a gentle brush, then slower, deliberate. The warmth of that single touch spread out, electric and tender all at once, awakening places Eddie hadn’t even known were waiting.

 

“Still good?” Buck’s voice was low, steady, his eyes never leaving Eddie’s.

 

Eddie nodded, words thick in his throat. “Better than good.”

 

Buck’s smile was slow, patient. He leaned down, lips pressing soft, worshipful kisses to Eddie’s chest. The heat of his mouth sent shivers trailing in its wake, stirring something deep and hungry beneath the skin.

 

His lips drifted lower, trailing across ribs, pausing to taste, to memorize every inch. Each kiss was a quiet promise, a devotion spoken without words.

 

Eddie’s hands clenched the sheets, knuckles white. He wasn’t used to being touched like this. Not with this much care. Like he was the prize. No, this kind of touch was new. Scary in its vulnerability but utterly intoxicating.

 

When Buck’s fingers slid up his side, across the slope of his hip, and back down the inner curve of his thigh, Eddie shivered again. The heat pooling low in his belly coiled tighter, a delicious tension that begged for release and yet demanded patience.

 

“Tell me what you like,” Buck murmured, lips brushing against Eddie’s skin with every word, the softness of his breath sending ripples of sensation through him. “Tell me what feels good. I want to learn all of it.”

 

Eddie’s heart hammered. His body ached with a new, fierce kind of need. And beneath the nervous fluttering, a quiet hope bloomed. Because he wanted that, too.

 

Buck’s mouth hovered just above Eddie’s navel, breath hot and soft, lips barely brushing the sensitive skin. The faintest heat radiated from him, sending shivers crawling in slow waves beneath Eddie’s skin, like tiny electric currents igniting anticipation. His stomach tightened again, muscles coiling again with that delicious ache.

 

Buck lifted his eyes to meet Eddie’s—those long lashes half-lowered, expression quietly asking, Still good? Still okay? It was a silent question, but it pulled at Eddie, making his chest throb with how much he trusted this moment, how much he needed it.

 

Eddie nodded, though his throat felt tight and his whole body wound so taut he could barely move. “Yeah,” he whispered, voice a little raw. “Keep going.”

 

Buck smiled, then pressed a kiss right below Eddie’s navel. The touch was featherlight. Soft enough to make Eddie’s skin tingle but firm enough to hold a promise. Another kiss followed, then another, each one drifting lower like a sacred ritual unfolding.

 

And lower still.

 

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath as Buck’s hands slid beneath his thighs, fingers warm and steady, coaxing them gently apart with a touch that was firm but never rushed. One hand wandered up his inner thigh, tracing long, lazy strokes that left trails of heat in their wake. It was like Buck was marking time, savoring every second, like he’d claimed this moment for himself and didn’t intend to let go anytime soon.

 

Then—warmth against the crease of his thigh. Lips brushing the skin right beside where Eddie’s ache had gathered, teasing and coaxing.

 

“Jesus,” Eddie breathed out, voice cracking a little, one hand reaching out to grip Buck’s shoulder. He needed something solid to hold onto, something to ground him.

 

Buck’s voice was low, rough with that kind of husky softness Eddie had never heard before. “Still okay?”

 

Eddie laughed, shaky but breathless. “You’ve asked me that three times now.”

 

“I’m going to keep asking,” Buck said, kissing the sharp line of his hipbone. “Until you’re too blissed out to answer.”

 

That earned another laugh, light and teasing. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“And you’re beautiful,” Buck whispered, voice soft like a caress. Finally, he leaned down and took the tip of Eddie’s cock into his mouth, slow and deliberate.

 

Eddie’s head thudded back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. He was a bit afraid if he looked at Buck with his cock in his mouth, he’d cum instantly. His fingers dug into Buck’s shoulder, knuckles white as his hips twitched upward without thinking. Buck hummed—a deep, pleased sound that vibrated against Eddie’s skin, telling him this was exactly where he wanted to be.

 

It didn’t feel like performance or foreplay. It felt like worship.

 

Buck was memorizing him with every lick, every gentle pull, every warm, slick glide. His hands never lost their tenderness, cradling Eddie’s thighs, steadying him. Eddie just stopped thinking. Stopped worrying about being good or what came next. His world narrowed to sensation. The wet heat, the pressure, the rise and fall of Buck’s breath against his skin, the way the sound in Buck’s throat translated into a language that only they understood.

 

And somewhere deep inside, Eddie’s heart, so restless all day, finally began to slow.

 

Because here, in Buck’s hands, in his mouth, beneath his steady, loving gaze… Eddie wasn’t just wanted. He was safe.

 

Eddie’s breath was shallow now, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a sprint instead of just lying here, undone by a man who knew exactly how to touch him. Buck had found a rhythm—unhurried, careful, maddening. It was more about building than finishing, like he wanted to drive Eddie to the edge and keep him there, legs tense, hands twisting in the sheets, gasping when Buck swirled his tongue at just the right place.

 

Then Buck pulled off slowly, mouth shiny and breath just a little uneven. Eddie whimpered, half-protest, half-need.

 

But Buck only smiled and leaned up, kissing Eddie's hip, then his stomach, then finally his lips—slow and deep. Eddie could taste himself on Buck’s tongue and it should’ve been too much, but it was perfect. Buck kissed like he was still trying to say something with his body Eddie hadn’t heard yet.

 

When he pulled back, Buck's voice was husky. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

 

The words caught somewhere low in Eddie’s belly.

 

“But I can feel you thinking, so apparently, licking is not enough,” he hummed. And without another word, grabbed Eddie’ cock with his hand and swallowed him whole. Buck went so deep, his nose nuzzled Eddie’s pelvis. Eddie could feel himself hit the back of his throat.

 

“Fuck! Buck!” The breath ripped out of his lungs in a rush of surprise and pleasure, sharp and sudden and utterly consuming.

 

Buck stayed there, eyes slowly watering. His hands gripped Eddie’s thighs again, holding him still while his mouth worked—slow, deliberate, worshipful. Every movement was electric, every flick of his tongue a promise. Eddie’s head fell back against the pillow again, his fingers tangling in Buck’s hair, anchoring himself to the moment as waves of heat pulsed through him.

 

Eddie didn’t stand a chance.

 

Because Buck didn’t just suck him off, he devoured him. With purpose. With hunger. With a heat that stole Eddie’s breath and made his spine arch off the mattress like his body was trying to chase something just out of reach.

 

And Buck knew. He knew exactly what he was doing. How to flatten his tongue just right along the underside of his cock. How sensitive the tip was. How to bob his head slowly, then twist his wrist at the base until Eddie was seeing flashes behind his eyelids—white-hot, dizzying. How to moan around him, like he wanted Eddie to lose his fucking mind.

 

Eddie tried to hold on, tried to think, to breathe, anything—but there was no room left in his head for thoughts. Just Buck’s mouth. Buck’s fingers. Buck’s name threatening to burst out of him over and over again.

 

“Buck—fuck, fuck, please—” he choked out, not even sure what he was begging for. More? Mercy? To survive this?

 

But Buck didn’t stop. He just pushed deeper, swallowed around him, and that was it. Eddie’s hips bucked, his fingers dug into Buck’s hair, and every muscle in his body went tight. His orgasm ripped through him out of nowhere. Bright. Brutal. Blinding. His vision actually flared—a scatter of stars across the dark, flickering behind his eyes. He felt like he was floating, untethered and melting all at once, like Buck had pulled him out of his own body just to show him how good it could feel to lose control.

 

And even as he shook through it, body trembling, chest heaving, Buck didn’t pull away. He held him through it, kept sucking like he could draw every last drop of pleasure out of him, like he must. Eddie groaned, wrecked, still gasping when Buck finally pulled off with a wet, obscene sound. His lips were slick, eyes dark, jaw flexing as he swallowed and crawled up the bed like a man possessed.

 

“You okay?” he whispered, brushing hair off Eddie’s sweaty forehead.

 

Eddie blinked, dazed, barely able to speak. “I—I think you just killed me.”

 

Buck grinned. “Nah. You’re still breathing.”

 

“Barely.”

 

Buck leaned down, pressing one last slow kiss to Eddie’s lips, tender and filthy at once, and murmured, “Then I’ll keep going until you stop.”

 

Buck didn’t give him a second to recover. One moment Eddie was panting, breath catching in his throat, sweat still clinging to his skin—and the next, Buck’s hands were on him, strong and possessive, flipping him to his front like he weighed nothing.

 

“Wh—” Eddie barely managed, voice hoarse and disoriented, but Buck was already there, mouth hot and open against the nape of his neck, dragging his teeth lightly along sensitive skin.

 

“Shh,” he rasped, his breath warm and wicked. “I’ve got you. Just trust me.”

 

Eddie’s heart pounded. Not from fear, not quite, but from the way his body lit up in pure anticipation. From the heat surging back into him at full force. From the dizzying awareness of how bare he was. How exposed. Buck had him splayed out, raw and vulnerable, and it only made him ache deeper.

 

But Buck didn’t touch him further. Not yet.

 

Instead, he paused, just long enough for the silence to stretch, and rested his cheek between Eddie’s shoulder blades. He settled his weight gently across his back, pressing a kiss between his shoulders, his stubble scraping faintly over sweat-slick skin. One hand slid up, fingers threading through Eddie’s hair, grounding him while the other stayed low, stroking over the curve of his ass like a silent promise.

 

“I know you’re nervous about this part,” Buck whispered, voice rough with want. “But we talked about this, didn’t we?”

 

Eddie gave a shaky nod into the pillow, body clenching. “Y-Yeah.”

 

“Good.” Buck ran a soothing hand down his spine, slow and gentle, grounding. “Then you know: if you say stop, I stop. But don’t hold back. Don’t hide. I want every sound, every shiver, every fucking thing you’ve got.” His voice dropped, dark and full of hunger. “Because I’ve thought about this. About you—like this. Open. Needy. Letting me make you feel everything.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched hard, a moan half-caught in his throat. That heat low in his belly pulsed again, harder this time, sharper. A part of him wanted to hide. The rest of him wanted to feel this.

 

“Don’t be embarrassed. Not with me.”

 

And then Buck’s mouth was on him again, lower now, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down the small of his back, biting gently at the curve of muscle. He worked his way down slowly, deliberately, until Eddie was squirming, his whole body taut with anticipation, clutching the sheets like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.

 

And then—fuck—he was there.

 

Warm breath ghosted over Eddie’s most sensitive spot, the tight ring of muscle, making him jolt. He instinctively tensed, muscles taut.

 

Buck chuckled low and filthy. “Easy, baby. Let me.”

 

His hands slid up Eddie’s thighs, firm and steady, thumbs stroking slow, hypnotic circles just to watch him shake. He helped him on his knees, ass in the air. Then came the first lick. Hard. Deliberate. A hot, wet stripe that made Eddie arch with a strangled, helpless sound.

 

“Fucking—Jesus—”

 

“Mm,” Buck hummed, smug and satisfied, tongue dragging again, slower, deeper, tasting every inch like it was a feast. “God, you taste so good.”

 

Eddie couldn’t think, could barely breathe, because Buck turned hungrier for more. His hands spread him wide, exposing him completely, no hesitation, no shame, just pure, focused hunger. His mouth was relentless, flicking, licking, sucking like he was trying to crawl inside Eddie’s skin and ruin him from the inside out.

 

It was obscene. Wet sounds filled the air—Buck’s mouth working him open, the soft groans Buck let out like he was getting off on this—and all Eddie could do was take it. His hole clenched involuntarily, overstimulated and twitching, but Buck just groaned in approval and licked deeper.

 

Every nerve in his body was lit up, sizzling. His hips rocked helplessly, chasing every flick of Buck’s tongue, every filthy, wet kiss.

 

And Buck let him. Wanted it. Wanted Eddie to lose control and practically ride his face.

 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled against Eddie’s skin. “Give it to me. Show me how bad you need it.”

 

Eddie was falling apart. Panting. Whimpering. Every movement from Buck sent fresh fire tearing through him—wicked and overwhelming, edged with something desperate and raw. It was obscene. Because Buck wasn’t just eating him out—he was worshipping him. Every lick was a prayer. Every moan a confession.

 

Eddie turned his head, cheek against the pillow, gasping, voice cracking with the weight of it all. “Buck—I—I can’t—fuck—”

 

“Yes, you can,” Buck growled, dragging his tongue up with destroying precision. “You will. You’re gonna fall apart for me, baby. Let me ruin you.”

 

Eddie didn’t know where his body ended and Buck’s mouth began.

 

He felt undone—shaking, sweating, so open it hurt in the best possible way. And then, Buck pulled back. Just slightly. Just enough for Eddie to let out a choked noise of protest, hips twitching back like he was trying to chase the heat again.

 

If he weren’t so delirious right now, trying to chase a goddamn second orgasm, he’d be embarrassed.

 

“Shh,” Buck whispered, dragging his mouth up, biting gently at Eddie’s left ass cheek. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Eddie meant to say something like okay, or understood, but a wrecked little whimper left his lips. Buck’s fingers, all wet and slick and warm, slid between his cheeks. And he pressed at his hole. The place he’d been eating out relentlessly seconds ago.

 

Eddie felt him pressing. Just one fingertip, teasing at his rim. He tensed without meaning to, his body caught somewhere between panic and desperate need.

 

Buck paused. “Hey. You with me?”

 

Eddie nodded, breath stuttering. “Yeah, just—fuck, Buck—”

 

“I got you,” Buck said, voice low and sure. “Breathe for me.”

 

And Eddie mindlessly abided. Taking a few deep breaths, feeling the panic ebb away. Why had he been panicking anyways? It wasn’t like he—

 

A gasp tore from his mouth, as Buck’s finger slipped inside him. It was too much and not enough all at once. His body fluttered around the intrusion, confused, hungry, overstimulated.

 

But Buck was careful. Gentle. He kept the pressure steady, not forcing, just encouraging his body to open.

 

“That’s it,” Buck murmured, kissing his left cheek this time. “You’re doing so good for me.”

 

Eddie moaned, head pressed into the pillow. He couldn’t think—his thoughts were white-hot static, sparks behind his eyelids. And then Buck curled his finger just slightly, searching. And found it.

 

Eddie cried out, loud and unrestrained, his hips jerking forward as a bolt of sensation hit his spine like lightning.

 

“There,” Buck breathed, sounding wrecked himself. “Right there, huh?”

 

Eddie nodded wildly, unable to speak, unable to do anything except feel. And then there were two fingers—stretching him further, twisting gently, dragging over that spot again and again until his legs were shaking, his cock leaking helplessly against the sheets.

 

“Bu-u-uck,” he sobbed, not able to do anything but lay there and take everything Buck was willing to give.

 

Every movement was deliberate. Every curl, every scissoring stretch, every glide of Buck’s knuckles against his slick skin was designed to undo him. And it was working. He wasn’t just spiraling, he was falling. Faster than he could catch himself. Like gravity had been replaced by Buck’s hands and mouth and voice, anchoring him even as he shattered.

 

Eddie moaned again. The sound raw and filthy, and Buck groaned behind him in response.

 

“Fuck, you sound so good like this,” Buck said, grinding the heel of his palm against Eddie’s ass as his fingers thrust deeper. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

 

“Buck,” Eddie rasped, voice hoarse from moaning, from feeling. “Please.”

 

Buck’s fingers were still buried deep inside him, steering clear of his prostate now, but still filling him to the rim. He leaned over Eddie, one arm braced beside his ribs, lips brushing the back of his neck. “What do you need, baby?”

 

The word baby made Eddie’s hips twitch.

 

“I want—” he sucked in a breath, feeling the scrape of Buck’s stubble against his skin. “The plug. Please. I want it.”

 

They’d talked about this—talked it through, days ago. Made the call together. No penetration tonight. No fucking. Just the plug. Let Buck stretch him, work him open slowly, safely. And Buck had promised: We go at your pace.

 

“Yeah?” Buck breathed against his ear. “You sure?”

 

“I want to feel full. Please.”

 

Actually, he wanted to feel full on Buck’s cock. Wanted to feel him inside him, not just his fingers or his tongue. He wanted his hot, hard dick so deep inside him he’d see stars again. He wanted Buck to grunt and moan into his ear, going fucking feral for Eddie. He wanted Buck to cum inside his ass and to feel it.

 

But they had made a plan. And if someone thought Buck—clipboard Buck—would deviate from a plan, they didn’t know him well enough.

 

Buck pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and slowly pulled his fingers out of Eddie’s ass. He couldn’t stop the desperate little noise at the loss. He heard the sound of the drawer sliding open. Heard something soft, the faint slick of lube. Then, Buck’s voice again.

 

“It’s the one we picked together, yeah? Little bigger than yours, but nothing you can’t take.”

 

Eddie nodded, cheek still pressed to the pillow. Already utterly spent. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah. Give it to me, Buck.”

 

“’m gonna go slow, Eds. Breath for me.”

 

The pressure at his hole, made him hold his breath, however. It wasn’t warm and familiar, like Buck’s fingers. It was blunter, firmer, even colder. Buck helped him get his knees under him again, ass in the air. He murmured something about it going easier like this.

 

Eddie gasped, his muscles resisting instinctively. Then, Buck’s hand slid under his chest, over his heart.

 

“You’re okay,” he murmured. “Relax your body. You’re taking it so well, baby.”

 

Eddie wanted to. So badly. He wanted to be good for Buck. Wanted to feel full. Wanted to show that he could do this. That he was ready for Buck’s cock. But he couldn’t open his mouth to breath.

 

“Eddie? Darling, breath through it,” Buck said, face closer to his ear now. He pressed a kiss against his jaw, against his temple. He plastered his chest against Eddie’s back. “You feel me breath?”

 

Eddie hummed, feeling the way Buck’s chest expanded against him with every breath he took.

 

“Can you follow its rhythm for me?”

 

Eddie followed.

 

“Good boy.”

 

And suddenly, his whole body relaxed and he just wanted to cry at those words. Buck thought he was a good boy. He was proud of him.

 

“You want to try again, baby? Hmm?”

 

Eddie nodded. “Please,” he whispered, pushing his ass back.

 

The same feeling of the plug against his hole was back. But this time Eddie was letting go. The plug slipped inside, burning and stretching his hole.

 

“Fuck!” he cried out. The fullness was so much, so deep it made his knees weak. “Jesus. Buck.”

 

Eddie could just hear Buck breathe harshly for a few moments. And that feeling was indescribable. He suddenly felt like the king of the world. Like he could take on anything, so long as Buck was with him. It was a strange kind of power, born not from control, but from love. Fierce, unrelenting, and steady. The kind that didn’t need words, only the proof of life between gasps and the echo of a bond that had never needed to be named to be real.

 

“Fuck, baby,” Buck breathed, one hand splayed across his lower back like he was trying to hold him together. “You look so good like this.”

 

Eddie moaned, hips canting down against the bed, chasing friction. His cock was aching, leaking. Every breath made him feel it—the stretch, the plug snug inside him, heavy and perfect. If he moved and clenched a little, it hit just the perfect spot.

 

Eddie’s eyes rolled back into his head at the sensation.

 

Buck moved his hands to Eddie’s hips, pulling his ass back in the air. His hand wrapped around Eddie’s cock, a slow, slick stroke. “Let me take care of you,” Buck said, pressing kisses down his spine. “Let me make you come just like this.”

 

Eddie couldn’t speak. He just nodded.

 

Buck set a relentless pace, a devastatign rhythm. The plug pressed deeper with every stroke, with Buck pushing his own hips into Eddie’s ass. And Eddie could feel his ass swallow the plug, hitting that delicious spot over and over and over—

 

“Come for me,” Buck whispered, biting lightly at his shoulder. “Show me how good it feels.”

 

And Eddie did—with a gasp, a moan, a long shuddering cry. His whole body convulsed as he spilled over Buck’s fist, the plug locked tight inside him, the pleasure rolling through him in waves so strong it left him sobbing into the sheets.

 

He didn’t care how loud he was. Didn’t care that he was shaking. That he probably looked like a fucked-out slut straight from a porn video. He just drifted in that soft, floating space that came after. After two orgasms. His body was heavy, tingling, boneless against the sheets. He felt stretched and satisfied, nerves still lit up, but quieter now. He couldn’t remember ever coming twice in one night.

 

His heart was just starting to settle when he blinked and looked up—and saw Buck.

 

Buck, kneeling beside him on the bed, flushed and gorgeous. His lips pink and swollen, his chest rising like he was trying to breathe around how hard he still was. His boxers were tented, clearly straining, and damp where precum had soaked through.

 

He hadn’t come yet.

 

That realization punched through Eddie’s haze like a jolt. Fucking selfless Buck. He pushed himself up on shaky elbows, ignoring the way the plug felt inside him. And Buck was just smiling at him, soft and warm.

 

“You okay?” he asked, brushing Eddie’s damp hair from his forehead.

 

Eddie nodded slowly, then dropped his gaze to Buck’s boxer briefs. “You didn’t…” He licked his lips, swallowing. “Can I—do you want me to—?”

 

Something lit in Buck’s eyes. But he didn’t pounce. Didn’t even move.

 

“You want to help me come?” he asked, voice low, but careful. “Or you feel like you have to?”

 

Eddie met his eyes again. “I want to,” he said, surprising himself with how much he meant it. His face flushed. “I just... I’ve never done it before. Like that. With a guy.”

 

Buck’s smile shifted to something deeper, almost reverent. “Okay,” he said softly. “Then let me show you.”

 

Eddie sat up a little straighter, still flushed, but watching Buck like he was studying him. Buck slid his boxers down slowly, freeing himself. His cock was thick and flushed deep red, curved toward his stomach, glistening with need. Eddie’s breath caught. His cock was… magnificent  there was no other word to describe it.

 

“Can I touch you?” he asked, his voice rougher now.

 

“You better touch me,” Buck said with a crooked grin, half laying down against the headbord. He hummed loudly when Eddie’s hand wrapped gently around him.

 

He tried to mimic what Buck had done to him. That must be what he liked, right? Slow strokes, thumb catching the head, palm curving with intent. Buck’s body twitched under his grip, hips lifting slightly, and Eddie looked up, uncertain.

 

Buck leaned his head back against the headboard, one hand threading into Eddie’s hair.

 

“Just like that,” he murmured. “You’re doing so good. Maybe—yeah, lick your palm. Get it wet.”

 

Eddie flushed even more, but he did it—licked his hand and went back to stroking, and Buck moaned, hips jerking.

 

“You feel so good,” Buck said, head tipped back, eyes closed. “Fuck, Eds—”

 

Eddie didn’t even hesitate. He leaned in, lips brushing over the head of his leaking cock, tongue flicking the tip just like instinct said to. Buck groaned deep, low and raw, and that was all the encouragement Eddie needed.

 

He took more—not much, but his tongue was eager, mouth warm, hands steady on Buck’s skin. Buck let him set the pace, let him explore, breathing hard, guiding gently.

 

And when Eddie sucked around the head and looked up through his lashes, Buck swore, pulling at his hair.

 

“That’s it, baby—fuck, just like that. You’re gonna make me come.”

 

Eddie’s heart hammered, and he tightened his grip, worked his mouth with more intent, feeling Buck twitch in his throat. He wanted this, wanted Buck to fall apart like he had.

 

Buck’s hips shot up, making Eddie gag.

 

“Shit. Sorry. Fuck, are you okay?”

 

Buck tried to pull back to make sure Eddie was fine, but he wouldn’t have it. Eddie pushed himself even lower, feeling the need to gag and ignored it.

 

“Eddie,” Buck panted, his fingers still treading in Eddie’s hair. “I’m gonna—Eddie—fuck—”

 

Eddie didn’t pull away. He looked up, right into Buck’s eyes and swallowed. Which apparently tipped Buck over the edge. A groan left his lips, as his whole body shuddered through his climax. Eddie tasted it as Buck came, salty and warm and thick and overwhelming, but he didn’t stop. Not until Buck was shaking, hand slipping from his hair like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore.

 

Eddie finally pulled off, swallowing every drop of Buck’s semen, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

Buck looked at him like he was the damn sun.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Buck breathed, voice wrecked. “That was your first time?”

 

Eddie gave a hoarse little laugh. “Yeah.”

 

They didn’t say much right after. Buck kissed him—slow and sweet, like a thank you, like a promise—and then guided him down to lie against the pillows again.

 

 

Chapter 12

Notes:

TW: homophobia + abuse (more information/spoilers at the end)

sorry not sorry

#fuckthediazparents

Buck woke to the subtle shift of Eddie stirring beside him. He kept his eyes closed, heart thudding quietly in his chest. Giving Eddie a moment. Space. A chance to slip out of the loft if he wanted to. A moment to see if regret would settle in.

 

But Eddie didn’t move to leave.

 

Instead, he stretched beside Buck like a contented cat, limbs cracking softly as he sighed out a pleased hum. Buck could feel the weight of his gaze lingering, warm and steady on his face. A silence fell, and Buck couldn’t keep resisting. He opened his eyes—and found Eddie’s beautiful brown ones already locked on him, full of quiet wonder.

 

For a long, still heartbeat, they just looked at each other. Silence around them. Both of them sore in all the right place. 

 

But Buck couldn’t help but stop breathing, anticipation coursing through him to know what Eddie was going to do. Was he going to stay? Was he going to make up some excuse and leave? Was he going to tell Buck this was a mistake?

 

Was he going to leave him behind?

 

Then Eddie leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Morning,” he whispered.

 

Buck kissed him back, slow and aching with relief. “Morning,” he breathed. The tight knot in his chest unraveled. He could finally breathe again.

 

No regret. No worries. No one was leaving.

 

“How ya feelin’?” Buck murmured, pressing another peck against his lips. And another. Just for good measure. Because he could. Because he didn’t want to stop. He pulled Eddie closer, like he was trying to fold him into his own body.

 

“Good God.” Eddie exhaled a laugh, hushed and hoarse. “Good. I’m good. I’m perfect. Still so fucking full.” He had to look away with that last comment, cheeks tinged pink.

 

But Buck tilted his chin back up, meeting his gaze. “You like feeling full?”

 

Eddie’s lips parted. He hesitated, flushed deeper. “I—”

 

“Hmm?” Buck nudged gently.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good boy,” Buck grinned, kissing his brow. He pushed the toy a bit deeper inside Eddie. Just for good measure. Because he could. Because he didn’t want to stop.

 

“Jesus,” Eddie hissed, shivering from head to toe. But Buck could also see how he practically glowed at the endearment. The compliment. He fucking loved to be called good boy. And therefore, Buck loved to call him so.

 

“How about…” Buck began, kissing a slow path along Eddie’s jaw, “we go…” he paused to mouth at Eddie’s neck, smirking at the way he trembled, “shower?”

 

“Yes,” he breathed. And the awe Buck saw in Eddie’s eyes… No one had ever looked at him like that.

 

*

 

The day unfolded slowly, sweetly—like it knew better than to rush them.

 

They lingered over breakfast, bare feet brushing under the table, laughter spilling easy between sips of coffee. They gamed for hours, sprawled on the couch, half-playful trash talk and full-body leaning into each other during close calls and victory celebrations. Lunch was lazy, eaten on the floor with leftovers and stolen bites off each other’s plates. Afterward, Eddie read while Buck rested his head in his lap, occasionally flipping pages for him. Later, they curled up under a blanket to watch a documentary—something moody and slow-paced, but neither of them really cared what it was. It just felt right to be there, together, tangled in warmth.

 

As evening fell, Buck hesitated for a moment before asking, "Wanna go out with me? There’s this place I’ve always wanted to try."

 

Eddie’s brows lifted knowingly. “Fancy?”

 

Buck shrugged, suddenly shy. “A little. I’ve just… never had someone I wanted to take.”

 

Eddie’s gaze softened, quiet understanding written all over his face. “Let’s go,” he said simply.

 

So they did.

 

The restaurant was all low lighting and clinking glasses, with velvet seats and candlelit tables. Buck watched Eddie across the table as they ordered—how his fingers curled around the menu, how his mouth quirked when the waiter complimented his cologne. He soaked in every detail like it was his favorite view in the world. And maybe it was.

 

They shared dessert, laughing over a too-sweet bite and then kissing the sugar off each other’s lips when no one was looking. Buck couldn't stop smiling. He didn't even try to.

 

Later, as they walked home beneath a city sky smudged in twilight, Eddie reached out and took Buck’s hand without a word. Just laced their fingers together like he’d been doing it for years.

 

And Buck… Buck could’ve sworn his heart was glowing.

 

*

 

After dinner, the loft felt quieter than before. Not empty, just full of something unspoken. That tender, expectant stillness that settles between two people standing on the edge of something new.

 

Buck leaned against the kitchen counter, a bottle of water in his hand, watching Eddie as he moved deeper into the space like he was walking through someone else’s dream. His fingertips trailed along the edge of the kitchen island—absent-minded, a little restless, like he needed to touch something to keep from floating away. His movements had slowed, not from hesitation, but from awareness. Every second seemed to press heavier, sink deeper.

 

Eddie glanced back over his shoulder and gave Buck a half-smile, the kind that didn’t hide anything. Buck felt his chest hitch, caught between affection and something hotter, heavier.

 

“You want a drink or something?” Buck asked, his voice low, careful, like raising it too high might shatter the moment.

 

Eddie shook his head, but didn’t answer aloud. Just kept walking, weaving lazily around the table like he was buying time. Or maybe savoring it.

 

He tossed another playful grin toward Buck, one that made something warm and dangerous bloom in Buck’s stomach. God, he loved that look on him. Loved that they were still them—best friends wrapped in something more, something unspoken but no longer untouchable.

 

Buck took a slow sip of water, unable to bite back a smile of his own.

 

“You wanna watch something?” he offered.

 

Eddie stopped on the far side of the dining table, hands wrapping around the back of one of the chairs. He didn’t sit. He just stood there, still as anything, eyes fixed on Buck. That easy playfulness in his face deepened into something else, steadier, heavier.

 

He tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth but quiet. Deliberate.

 

“How about you come over here and fuck me?”

 

Buck froze, the bottle still in his hand, condensation beading against his fingers. His pulse spiked, heat surging beneath his skin, but he didn’t move. Not yet.

 

The look Eddie gave him didn’t waver, didn’t shy away. It was calm, sure, filled with something Buck hadn’t quite expected to see. Like he knew exactly what he was asking. Like he was ready to hand himself over.

 

And suddenly, Buck wasn’t thirsty anymore. He set the water bottle down, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact with Eddie. He pushed off the counter and began moving toward him.

 

Eddie didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. He just raised an eyebrow like a challenge. Like he wanted to be caught, but only if Buck was willing to work for it.

 

Two steps in, Buck’s eyes narrowed, the barest smirk tugging at his lips. But Eddie moved first—grinning as he sidestepped away from the chair and slid to the other side of the table.

 

“Uh-uh,” he murmured, playful and maddening.

 

Buck stopped, jaw ticking with a half-laugh. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”

 

Eddie gave a tiny shrug, still smiling, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m just giving you a chance to earn it.”

 

Buck moved again, rounding the corner. Eddie mirrored him, light on his feet, dodging the other way. They circled each other—one step, then another. The tension stretched thin and humming between them, equal parts heat and mischief. Buck lunged once, half-hearted, just to watch Eddie laugh as he dodged again.

 

“You think you’re fast?” Buck taunted, voice rougher now, caught between desire and delight.

 

“I think you want it bad enough to catch me,” Eddie shot back, eyes gleaming.

 

Buck didn’t respond. He just changed direction, fast and fluid, cutting across the space before Eddie could react. He caught him at the corner of the table, hands sliding around Eddie’s waist as he pulled him flush against his chest.

 

Eddie burst into a surprised laugh, breath hitching as his hands braced against Buck’s arms.

 

“Gotcha,” Buck whispered against his jaw.

 

“You did,” Eddie breathed, and then he kissed him, quick and grinning and a little out of breath.

 

The second kiss was slower. Warmer. A promise, not a tease. Buck’s hands tightened around Eddie’s waist, grounding them both. When he pulled back, their foreheads touched, their laughter softening into something more tender.

 

“Come on,” Buck murmured, threading their fingers together. “Let’s go upstairs.”

 

Eddie didn’t say a word. He just squeezed his hand in return and followed, the playful tension still humming between them.

 

Eddie stood in the middle of the room, fingers still curled lightly around Buck’s. His gaze swept across the familiar space, but he looked at it like it meant something new now. Buck stepped in close, his free hand reaching up to gently cup Eddie’s jaw, his thumb brushing along the edge of his cheekbone. Their lips met in the middle of the room, no urgency, just a slow, magnetic press. Buck’s hands settled at Eddie’s waist again, thumbs tracing slow circles just above his hips. Eddie melted into it, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like he needed to hold on to something.

 

When they broke apart, Buck smiled softly and whispered, “Can I?”

 

Eddie nodded, and Buck reached for the hem of his shirt, sliding it up inch by inch. His fingers skimmed warm skin, lifting until the fabric bunched beneath Eddie’s arms. Eddie raised them, letting Buck tug it the rest of the way off. He tossed it aside, eyes never leaving Eddie’s. Buck’s hands settled on Eddie’s bare waist, his thumbs brushing slowly across skin.

 

He let out a quiet breath. “God, you’re beautiful.”

 

Eddie huffed a quiet, embarrassed laugh, but didn’t look away.

 

Buck leaned in again, kissing his shoulder, then his collarbone, and the hollow of his throat. Soft, open-mouthed kisses that spoke more than words ever could. Eddie’s hands found Buck’s shirt, and he returned the favor, lifting it slowly and tugging it over his head. His palms dragged down Buck’s back after the fabric was gone, lingering like he was committing every inch to memory.

 

Buck watched him, heart thudding in his chest—not with nerves, but with feeling. This wasn’t like the scenes he usually had. No protocols, no rhythm to fall into, no walls to stay behind. He wasn’t performing. He wasn’t in control.

 

And he didn’t want to be.

 

This wasn’t about guiding someone through their submission. It was about standing eye to eye with someone who already knew him, who saw every crack in the foundation and still stepped closer.

 

His hands moved to Eddie’s belt, fingers working slowly, carefully, like he didn’t want to rush this. Eddie leaned in, pressing their foreheads together as Buck undid the buckle, the button, the zipper. He eased the pants down, brushing his fingers along the inside of Eddie’s thighs as he knelt to help him step out of them.

 

When Buck stood again, Eddie’s hands were already on his waistband, doing the same. Their fingers brushed, fumbled, they shared a laugh, shared a breath. No rush. Just the two of them, shedding layers like they didn’t need them anymore.

 

Buck slid his hands up Eddie’s sides, thumbs ghosting over ribs, up to his chest. His palm settled over Eddie’s heart, feeling it pound.

 

“Still okay?” he asked quietly.

 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. You?”

 

Buck smiled. “Yeah.”

 

Their boxers were the last to go, exchanged in a quiet, breathless moment full of reverence. And when they stood there, bare, skin to skin in the golden low light, Buck felt something shift in his chest. He reached up, brushing a hand through Eddie’s hair, and leaned in to kiss him again. Deeper this time. Their bodies pressed together, hands mapping each other’s skin like it was holy ground.

 

There was no script. No expectation.

 

Just want.

 

Just them.

 

Buck guided him toward the bed with a quiet kind of reverence, kissing Eddie slow and deep before they sank down together, limbs tangled, skin flushed and bare. Nothing else existed now—just the two of them and the low thrum of want still pulsing between their bodies.

 

They'd talked about this. Eddie would be on top. He’d be the one setting the pace, choosing how far to go and how fast. No pressure, no expectations. Just what he wanted, when he wanted it. Buck had meant it when he had said it, and meant it even more now, lying beneath Eddie, feeling his warmth, the slight tremble of nerves beneath the strength.

 

Eddie hovered above him, braced on his forearms, eyes searching Buck’s like he was double-checking for doubt. But there was none. Just a crooked grin and a quiet, teasing voice.

 

“Grab the lube, cowboy,” Buck murmured, his head sinking deeper into the pillows, hair mussed and lips flushed. His hand slid down Eddie’s back, pausing to give his ass a firm, appreciative squeeze. “It’s in the drawer.”

 

Eddie breath caught with the squeeze of Buck’s hand. The plug still deeply swallowed by his hole. He let out a breathless laugh, cheeks coloring just slightly, and leaned forward to reach for the nightstand. His body shifted over Buck’s, skin brushing skin, all heat and intimacy and the faint creak of the bed beneath them.

 

He found the bottle and sat back on his heels, straddling Buck’s hips again as he turned it over in his hands, fingers a little clumsy. Buck watched him with nothing but softness in his gaze, completely captivated.

 

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, hand resting against Eddie’s thigh, thumb stroking in slow circles.

 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah,” he said, quieter now. “Just… taking it all in.”

 

“Take all the time you need,” Buck whispered, like a promise. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

That made Eddie smile. One of those genuine, from-the-heart smiles that melted into something more tender. He leaned down again, kissing Buck deeply. Buck’s hands slid up his sides. There was no rush, no right or wrong, no scene. Eddie shifted slightly, keeping the kiss going as he slicked his fingers with lube, and Buck let his legs fall open without hesitation, breath catching just a little at the first touch of his cock. But he didn’t break the kiss. He pulled Eddie in closer, arms wrapping around his back, holding him like something precious.

 

They were quiet, just the sound of their breathing and Eddie’s wet fist around Buck’s cock, getting him fully hard. Every brush of his fingers made Buck’s breath stutter, but he didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes locked on Eddie’s, letting him see everything. Buck pressed his forehead to Eddie’s, his hand gripping the back of Eddie’s neck as he whispered, “You’re doing perfect.”

 

Eddie lifted himself off, to pull the plug out of him. He gasped softly at the loss of fullness.

 

“You sure?” Buck asked, hands still caressing Eddie’s hips.

 

Eddie nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, I want this.”

 

He grabbed Buck’s cock with one hand, the other bracing on Buck’s chest, fingers digging in for balance. Slowly, he guided himself down with a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut as the head of Buck’s cock stretched his hole. Buck stilled completely, every muscle taut with restraint.

 

Because he was inside Eddie. He was inside Eddie. His cock was in Eddie’s ass.

 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispered, voice thick, breath caught halfway between a gasp and a moan. “You’re—”

 

“Take your time,” Buck murmured, hands still on Eddie’s hips. “You’re in control. Whatever you need.”

 

Eddie nodded, still breathing hard, and sank down a little further, groaning softly. His spine curved, muscles trembling with effort. Buck could see the way his lip quivered, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. He went a little lower again, frowning. When Eddie was finally seated fully in his lap, he paused, eyes squeezed shut, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. Buck’s hands held him gently, reverently, not pushing, not rushing. Just there.

 

Eddie opened his eyes, humming affirmatively. “Yeah. You’re huge. God, you’re so deep inside me.”

 

Buck let out a breath, like he’d been holding it this whole time. His hands slid up to Eddie’s ribs, thumbs brushing over warm, damp skin. He looked up at Eddie like he was seeing something sacred, like he couldn’t believe this was real—that Eddie was here, wrapped around him, trusting him like this.

 

“You feel incredible,” Buck said quietly, voice hoarse with restraint. “You—Jesus, Eddie.”

 

Eddie smiled, breathless and a little dazed, and leaned forward to kiss him. It was slow, mouths open and warm, tongues brushing. Buck kept one hand on Eddie’s back, the other at his hip, letting him move if he wanted to—only if he wanted to.

 

After a moment, Eddie began to shift, rolling his hips gently, testing the motion with a low, trembling sound. His head dropped to Buck’s shoulder for a second, his breath hot where it hit Buck’s neck.

 

“That okay?” he asked, voice muffled against Buck’s skin.

 

“More than okay,” Buck murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You feel so good, Eds. Just like that.”

 

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered. “I don’t know how to do this.”

 

“Figure out what feels good,” Buck hummed back, playing with the hair at his nape. “You can stay in my neck if you want. You can also just take your time to try different things.”

 

Eddie let out a low, breathless laugh and sat upright again. He bit down on his lip, rolled his hips in slow, deliberate circles, before he lifted himself off Buck and sank back down in one smooth motion. His eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned at the same time as Buck groaned.

 

Fuck, that felt good.

 

The rhythm they found wasn’t fast or frenzied. It was slow, deliberate, measured by the press of skin, the hitch in Eddie’s breath, the way his fingers tightened on Buck’s chest when he sank back down again and again. Buck let him ride at his own pace, hips barely moving beneath him, content to stay anchored to the mattress while Eddie took everything he needed.

 

There was something almost unreal about it—how quiet the world had gone.

 

Buck slid a hand up to Eddie’s jaw, guiding him down into another kiss. It was messier now, full of heat and desperation, and Buck could feel Eddie start to tremble in his arms.

 

“I’ve got you,” Buck whispered between kisses. “You’re doing perfect. So fucking perfect.”

 

Eddie groaned, his forehead resting against Buck’s, their noses brushing with every shaky breath. His lips were parted, damp, his brows knit with the effort of holding on just a little longer. “Buck—I’m not gonna last long.”

 

“That’s okay,” Buck breathed, tightening his grip. “Don’t hold back. Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

 

Eddie let out a broken breath, like he’d been waiting for permission. His fingers slid from Buck’s chest to his shoulders, clinging for balance as he lifted himself again—just enough to grind back down again with a low, wrecked sound. His thighs quivered on either side of Buck’s hips, muscles shaking from the effort, from the stretch, from everything.

 

He moved again, slow and deep, biting down on a gasp that still slipped through his teeth. Buck could feel the tension all through him—how hard he was trying to stay present, to stay in control of a body that was rapidly giving in to sensation.

 

With a swift movement, Buck came to sit upright as well, surprising Eddie. He grabbed his ass with both hands, kissing him and thrusted upwards into Eddie’s warm ass. Eddie’s hips jerked forward, not even thrusting anymore—just grinding, trying to get as close as he could. His cock was trapped between them, slick and hard, dragging along Buck’s stomach with each movement. Buck shifted one hand down to wrap around it, stroking in time with Eddie’s shallow thrusts.

 

Eddie cried out at that, voice cracking open. His head dropped to Buck’s shoulder, breath hot and wet against his skin. “Buck—fuck, I’m so close.”

 

Buck kissed the side of his head, his temple, his cheek, never stopping the movement of his hips. “It’s okay. Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

 

Eddie’s whole body clenched. His thighs, his abs, his jaw. Then he exhaled in a rough, shattered moan and came hard between them, shaking through it as Buck held him tight. His nails dug into the skin of Buck’s back, but Buck just let him. He didn’t let go, just whispered quiet things, steady things, riding it out with him.

 

Eddie slumped forward after, chest heaving, skin flushed and damp. He was still wrapped around Buck, still holding him like he didn’t want to let go.

 

“You okay?” Buck murmured, brushing sweat-damp hair back from Eddie’s forehead. He laid down again, taking Eddie with him.

 

Eddie nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Jesus. That was—” He let out a soft, stunned laugh against Buck’s shoulder. “That was really fucking good.”

 

Buck smiled, pressing a kiss to the curve of Eddie’s jaw. “You’re really fucking good.”

 

Eddie pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes glassy but clear, lips curling into the kind of grin Buck knew down to his bones. “Your turn.”

 

Buck was about to say something—something teasing, something self-deprecating maybe—but Eddie leaned in and kissed him again, slower now, more deliberate. Then, with a soft shift of his hips, he rolled them both over, pulling Buck on top of him.

 

“I want you to come inside me,” he said quietly, guiding Buck’s face down to his with both hands. “I want to feel all of it.”

 

Buck froze for a second, like the words had taken all the air out of his lungs.

 

“Buck, I mean it,” Eddie huffed. “Don’t treat me like I’ll break. Fuck me. For real.”

 

“I—”

 

“Buck,” Eddie interrupted, almost annoyed. “Fuck. Me. I’ll tell you if it’s too much.” He clenched around Buck’s cock, earning a soft hiss. “Fuck me like you hate me.”

 

Buck’s heart thudded at Eddie’s words, warm and urgent between his legs. He paused, chest rising and falling, then let out a breathy laugh. “You’re watching too much porn, Eds,” he teased, voice low.

 

But he didn’t give Eddie time to react, he pulled out of him, earning a whimper from Eddie. But he ignored it. He grabbed Eddie and manhandled him on his front. He shoved Eddie’s knees up beneath him and forced his hands flat against the mattress, spreading him out like he owned him. Doggy-style.

 

Buck paused to take in the view: Eddie’s spine curved beneath him, cheeks slightly flushed, back trembling with anticipation. His own cock throbbed with the sight. Then he sank back into him, sudden and all at once, feeling Eddie envelop him in tight heat. Eddie’s quiet moan pressed against the pillow.

 

“Like I hate you, right?” Buck murmured, voice rough.

 

“Yes,” Eddie breathed back, arching his hips, “Please.”

 

Buck reached down, one hand gripping Eddie’s hip to pull himself deeper, the other curling around Eddie’s cock, stroking with careful precision. Eddie whined at the overstimulation, trying to move away. But Buck held him exactly where he wanted him and ignored his pleas. He found a rhythm, steady, solid, yet edged with ferocity, thrusting in measured strokes that matched Eddie’s wet, desperate gasps.

 

Eddie’s breath hitched every time Buck drove forward, the mattress creaking under them. His hands pressed into the sheets, nails tracing the fabric, knuckles white. When Buck leaned down, he caught Eddie’s ear between his teeth and tugged gently, eliciting a breathy “Fuck—” that splintered into a moan.

 

Buck pressed a kiss there, soft and possessive. “You wanted rough, Eddie. I’m giving you real.”

 

Eddie responded with a strangled moan, head dropping to the pillow, his body trembling around Buck’s cock. “Yeah… Yes. Fuck, right there.”

 

Buck increased the pace, hips snapping forward in deep, punishing strokes that dragged guttural sounds from Eddie’s throat. He watched the way Eddie’s back flexed, muscles bunching and releasing—all heat and tension and surrender. The only sounds in the room were their ragged breaths, the slap of skin on skin, and the raw, broken moans spilling into the dark.

 

Buck leaned in, fisting Eddie’s hair and hauling him up, angling his spine until the angle made them both curse. Eddie choked on a sound, nearly collapsing forward again from the sheer overload.

 

“Fuck,” Buck growled against his ear, breath hot. His right hand wrapped tight around Eddie’s cock, stroking him in rhythm. “You should hear yourself, baby. The way you moan for me—fuck, it’s obscene.”

 

Eddie trembled, trying to breathe, trying to stay upright. “Too much,” he gasped.

 

Buck didn’t let up.

 

“You love it,” he panted. “You fucking love it when I ruin you like this, don’t you? Look at you—so desperate for it you don’t know whether to run or beg.”

 

Eddie let out a strangled noise, body arching, pushing back hard against him.

 

Buck’s grip tightened both around Eddie’s cock and in his hair. His voice dropped to a low, hungry whisper.

 

“Tell me who’s got you like this.”

 

“You,” Eddie rasped, eyes squeezed shut, helpless. “Fuck—you do.”

 

“Damn right I do.” Buck slammed into him again. “And I’m not stopping until you scream it.” Buck was right there, chest pressed to his back, sweat-slick skin sliding against him. “You feel that?” he murmured, voice rough, filthy. His teeth grazed Eddie’s shoulder, biting down just enough to make him jerk. “Every inch of me inside you, making you mine.”

 

Eddie shuddered, keening. “Fuck—Buck, I—”

 

Buck tightened his grip on Eddie’s cock, pumping him faster now, matching the brutal rhythm of his hips. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna soak my fucking hand while I fuck the soul out of you? Gonna come just like this—stuffed full, drooling all over the sheets? Can’t even think straight, can you? Bet you don’t even know your own name. Just mine.”

 

Eddie didn’t answer—he couldn’t. His mouth was open, but all that came out was a wrecked whimper as his body tensed, strung tight as a live wire.

 

Buck leaned in closer, lips brushing Eddie’s ear. “I want to feel it,” he rasped. “Come for me. Come all over yourself while I’m buried in you—let me feel you fall apart.”

 

Each thrust was a promise: no holding back, no gentle pacing. This was raw, as messy and urgent as Eddie had asked. And Eddie was so close to his second orgasm, no matter his protest.

 

“Come for me, Eddie. Soak the sheets like a good little cockdrunk slut.”

 

And just like that, Eddie snapped.

 

His entire body arched, muscles seizing as he cried out, release hitting him like a freight train. Buck groaned against his neck, not slowing down, chasing his own high through the tight, pulsing grip around him.

 

“Fucking perfect,” Buck growled, thrusts growing more erratic, desperate. “So goddamn perfect for me.”

 

Eddie sagged forward, boneless and wrecked, but Buck followed him down, pressed flush against him, hand still tangled in his hair. Buck’s own release built quickly, and when the edge came, he pinned Eddie’s hips and buried himself fully inside. He spilled right into Eddie’s tight ass.

 

Buck shook against Eddie’s back, burying his face in the curve of his neck like he could crawl inside him and never leave.

 

They locked together for a moment, hearts pounding, breath mingling, before Buck eased out, collapsing beside Eddie. Eddie rolled onto his back, sweat-slick hair plastered to his forehead, eyes glossy with satisfaction. He reached up, pulling Buck in for a tender, triumphant kiss.

 

Buck smiled against his lips. “That was real,” he whispered. “Thank you for telling me what you wanted.”

 

Eddie’s grin was lazy, triumphant, achingly tender. “Thank you for listening.”

 

They lay tangled in the quiet, sweat cooling on their skin, limbs heavy with exhaustion and orgasms. Buck had an arm folded behind his head, Eddie’s thigh draped over his, their legs a tangle that neither had the will to undo. Their breathing had begun to slow, syncing again after everything they’d just given each other.

 

The room was dim, bathed in the soft orange of the streetlight outside filtering through the blinds. It should’ve felt peaceful. It almost did. But Buck’s thoughts refused to settle. A low, aching throb that hadn’t been there before. It ached, not from effort, but from the weight of what had just happened. How different it had been. How real.

 

It wasn’t like the scenes he’d played out before: no script, no dynamics to control, no performance. Just Eddie. Eddie, trusting him. Eddie, letting himself fall apart in Buck’s arms.

 

He blinked up at the ceiling, his heart beating soft and steady beneath the quiet weight of Eddie's breath. He didn’t want to move. Didn't want to shatter the fragile stillness between them. But something shifted. Barely noticeable at first.

 

Eddie’s breath hitched—just slightly—but enough for Buck to notice. He turned his head, gaze falling on Eddie’s profile in the low light.

 

Tears.

 

Silent at first, tracking down Eddie’s temples, darkening his hair where they soaked in. He didn’t make a sound. Just laid there, staring at the ceiling, completely still, except for the quiet tremble of his chest with every breath.

 

“Eddie?” Buck whispered, alarm blooming in his gut like fire catching dry brush. He pushed up on his elbow, heart slamming in his chest. “Shit—Eddie, did I hurt you?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer.

 

Buck’s heart clenched, panic clawing at his throat. “Hey. Hey, talk to me—was it too much? Did I push you too far? What is it?” His voice cracked, trembling on the edge of fear.

 

Eddie’s jaw clenched so tightly it trembled. His hand twitched against Buck’s skin. And then, slowly, like the movement cost him everything, he turned his head toward Buck, tears still falling freely.

 

“Please,” Buck begged, barely able to breathe. “Whatever it is, just tell me.”

 

Shitshitshitshitshit.

 

What had he done?

 

“Please,” he whispered again, unable to look away from those bloodshot eyes.

 

“I’m gay,” Eddie finally whispered. Voice hoarse, like it had been buried under years of silence.  

 

And with that, the dam broke. His face crumpled, breath shuddering as the sobs finally tore loose. He curled into Buck’s chest like gravity had pulled him there, burying his face against Buck’s skin, clutching at him like a lifeline.

 

Buck wrapped both arms around him instantly, holding tight, holding still. His own breath caught in his throat, overwhelmed not by fear anymore, but by the magnitude of what Eddie had just said. What he’d just let himself feel.

 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Buck murmured over and over again, threading his fingers through Eddie’s damp hair, pressing kisses to the side of his head. His own throat burned, eyes pricking with tears he didn’t dare let fall. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

 

Eddie didn’t say anything else. Just sobbed until his body went still, exhausted and wrung out. He fell asleep tucked into Buck’s chest, tear-stained and quiet.

 

And Buck just held him.

 

*

 

Buck had spent hours in his kitchen.

 

He wasn’t new to this. Thanks to Bobby. Both baking and cooking had been something that calmed him, centered him, made him feel useful. He liked the process, the rhythm of it. The slicing, the seasoning, the heat. It made sense when nothing else did.

 

And right now? Nothing made sense. Not the way Eddie had touched him like he was starving only to fall apart in his arms moments after. Not the way he’d whispered, voice cracked and barely audible, “I’m gay.” Not the way he’d spend all morning staring at the television in Buck’s loft while Buck moved quietly around him like some kind of ghost with a spatula.

 

Buck had asked him if he had wanted to talk. But Eddie was very clear that he needed space. And Buck gave him alle the space he needed. Especially now that they’d have dinner at Eddie’s house today. With his parents. And Tía Pepa, thank God.

 

So yeah, Buck cooked.

 

Pollo guisado, the way Eddie liked it. Warm, savory, a little spicy, slow-simmered until the chicken fell apart just right. He even made rice the way Pepa taught him once, and fried sweet plantains because he remembered how Eddie always stole them first off the plate.

 

He packed it all neatly, double-checked it like it was mission-critical, and brought it with them to the Diaz household. He told himself this dinner would be good. Steady. A way to reset.

 

He had dropped Eddie off and then went to find a parking spot around the corner. A moment to steady himself, because he was trying his damned best not to think about last night. Not to eat himself up because Eddie and he hadn’t talked. Eddie had been some kind of zombie, only saying the bare minimum to him.

 

At least he hadn’t fled.

 

Buck rang the bell, even though he technically didn’t have to. He wasn’t a guest here. But with Helena and Ramon behind the door, he’d try to be at his best behavior. Especially now that Eddie was not okay.

 

He waited, heart thudding in his chest like it might be trying to escape. The smell of cleaning products and rosemary hit him the second the door opened. Helena stood in the frame, lips tight, a cloth draped over her shoulder like a badge of authority. She didn’t smile.

 

“Evan.”

 

“Hi, Mrs. Diaz,“ he smiled easily. “I made something extra for dinner.” He lifted the covered dishes he’d cradled like some shield all the way from his jeep.

 

Her eyes flicked down, unimpressed. “We already have food.” She turned without inviting him in.

 

Buck sighed, stepped inside anyway. And he immediately felt it. The house felt different. Not messy or chaotic—Helena would never allow that—but wrong. Like someone had peeled the warmth out of the walls and replaced it with this sterile politeness that stung worse than any open hostility.

 

Eddie stood in the living room, arms folded, looking out of the window as his father spoke to him. He was still dressed in Buck’s sweatshirt and didn’t even acknowledge him. He hadn’t spoken much more since they’d left the loft.

 

And Buck didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to fix this. Because there was nothing to fix.

 

Eddie was gay.

 

Fuck.

 

Buck cleared his throat, moved toward the kitchen, and began unpacking the food carefully. Pepa had once said he was a better cook than her brother. He’d smiled for a whole week over that. He started setting the dishes on the counter, trying not to feel like an intruder in a house he used to move through like second nature. He meant what he told Maddie that one time: he was not a guest in Eddie’s house.

 

The front door opened, there was some rapid Spanish, before a shuffle of feet towards the kitchen.

 

“¡Evancito!” Aunt Pepa breezed in, arms already outstretched. She smelled like gardenia and her kiss was loud as she pressed it to Buck’s cheek.

 

Buck smiled for the first time all day, relaxing into the hug. “Hey, Aunt Pepa.”

 

She clapped his shoulders like she was realigning his soul. “Look at you, still handsome.”

 

Buck just walked with her towards the living room, unable to let the smile drop. He loved aunt Pepa. She was the best. It would’ve been so much greater if she were Eddie’s mom.

 

Pepa hugged Eddie, kissed his cheek, asked something in Spanish. It was a stark contrast—too stark—from the way Helena hovered like a vulture nearby, watching the exchange like it personally offended her. Pepa gave Eddie a look, ignoring her sister-in-law, and Buck knew she’d clocked something was wrong immediately. Hopefully she’d brush it off to the random visit of Eddie’s parents.

 

“Hey, uh, where’s Chris?” Buck asked, looking around. He’d gone to the kitchen immediately, but now that he was back, Chris wasn’t here.

 

“In his room. Dressing for dinner,” Ramon replied, before looking back at the newspaper in his hands.

 

The tension was too much for Buck. He made his way towards Chris’ room.

 

“He doesn’t need your help, Evan.”

 

He ignored Helena and walked straight into Chris’ room, closing the door behind him and leaning against it.

 

“Hey, Buck!”

 

Buck smiled, feeling most of the tension drop off his shoulders.

 

“Hey, buddy.” He went over to hug him. “How are you?” Buck looked him over. He was sitting on his bed, only a shirt, no pants.

 

“Fine,” he replied. “Grandma told me to change my clothes for dinner.” He dropped his gaze to the onesie Buck had bought him from the same shop as Selina had bought his Pikachu onesie. It was a Bulbasaur.

 

And Buck just knew exactly what had happened. And he couldn’t handle it anymore.

 

“You wanna wear the onesie?” he asked, forcing a grin.

 

Chris shook his head. “No, I— it’s not suitable for dinner, or for a man my age.”

 

Buck licked his teeth, looking away. His heart was pounding, and he just didn’t want to be here anymore.

 

“Buck, are you okay?”

 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

 

And fuck. Now he couldn’t leave.

 

“Me too, bud.” He ruffled Chris’ hair, and helped him into his pants, before they made their way outside again.

 

“Look at my handsome baby,” Aunt Pepa gushed, kissing both his cheeks. “How is the most beautiful Diaz?”

 

Chris huffed out an embarrassed laugh, his eyes catching Ramon for a moment, before he turned back to Pepa. “I’m a man. Not a baby.”

 

Buck saw the way Eddie’s head snapped to him at those words. “You’re a kid,” he corrected.

 

Chris looked over at his father. “Hey, dad.”

 

Eddie stepped forward and hugged Chris, kissing his hair. “Hi, mijo,” he murmured.

 

“You look tired,” Pepa hummed, looking Buck over.

 

“Long days,” Buck replied. “And I’ve been cooking. Made the rice like you taught me.”

 

“For what?” Helena asked, eyebrows raised. “We didn’t ask for anything.”

 

Pepa shot her sister-in-law a look. “If the boy wants to cook for us, nothing is wrong with that. Let the boy breath.”

 

Helena didn’t answer. Just picked up a ceramic dish of her own from the kitchen and set it squarely on the center of the table. “Dinner’s served.”

 

Except it wasn’t. Buck’s food—the meal he spent hours preparing, tasting, seasoning to perfection—sat untouched on the counter. Like it wasn’t even worth dishing out. Like it didn’t belong.

 

Pepa’s eyes darted between the table and the kitchen. “You’re not putting Evan’s food out?”

 

“We have enough,” Helena replied coolly.

 

“Well, I’d like some,” Pepa said, walking to the counter.

 

Helena made a noise low in her throat. “Some people have no standards.”

 

Buck’s ears rang.

 

He stood still, hands stiff at his sides. The rejection burned more than he thought it would. He’d tried. He’d really tried to offer something good. Something warm and human. And she dismissed it like trash.

 

He glanced at Eddie again. Nothing. Just that same quiet stillness, like he’d chosen to vanish without moving an inch.

 

Ramon took his place at the head of the table, barely acknowledging anyone as he sat. He nodded now and then, as if agreeing with Helena just by default. With a vague gesture, he offered the seat to his right to Eddie, and the one on the left to Chris. Pepa settled next to Chris, leaving Buck to take the open seat between Eddie and Helena at the foot of the table.

 

Helena served Eddie, Christoper, and Ramon from her own food, pointedly ignoring Buck’s dishes.

 

“Ignore her. She’s just bitter you’re better than her at everything,” Pepa whispered, winking and filling her plate to the brim with Buck’s food.

 

Buck gave her a small smile, tried to force a laugh, but it caught in his throat.

 

The food Helena made was fine. Nothing wrong with it. But all he could taste was bitterness, like her energy had seeped into every bite.

 

They ate in stilted silence, broken by Pepa asking about work and school and Christopher’s new teacher. Chris answered sometimes and Buck jumped in when no one else would, talking to Chris about a science project they’d started last week.

 

Helena rolled her eyes mid-conversation.

 

Ramon just sipped his drink.

 

The worst part? It wasn’t even new. Buck had been on the receiving end of quiet judgment before. People assuming, misjudging, dismissing. He could take that. But this—this suffocating dismissal wrapped in polite cruelty? This erasure?

 

It was worse. It was something he had suffered through for years on end in the Buckley household. It was something he had escaped. And now he found himself feeling like an eight-year-old-boy again. Because again he had no idea why he was treated this way. Again, it felt like there was some big secret hanging over his head, without him knowing.

 

“So,” Helena said suddenly, her voice bright and dangerous, “Evan. Are you seeing anyone?”

 

Buck blinked. “I…”

 

She smiled sweetly. “I just thought I’d ask. You do move through people fairly quickly.”

 

Pepa’s fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

 

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Buck said carefully.

 

“Oh,” Helena said, eyes glittering. She looked Eddie over with a look that screamed disgust, sipping from her red wine.

 

Buck’s stomach turned. He could see Pepa tense as well.

 

“I know what kind of man you are,” Helena said. “You think playing house makes you part of this family?”

 

“Helena,” Pepa warned.

 

But Helena leaned forward, her voice ice-slick and vicious. “You’re not family. You’re a mistake my son won’t say out loud.”

 

The silence afterward was volcanic—heavy, rumbling beneath the surface.

 

Buck swallowed hard, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. Pepa’s eyes were wide, horrified, but frozen in place. Ramon said nothing, just watched with cold detachment, sipping his drink like it was a show. Chris looked confused, small. And Eddie—still silent, still not looking up, still sitting there like the damn table might collapse if he dared to speak.

 

Buck let out a short, bitter laugh. “You know,” he said, voice raw, “you people really know how to make someone feel welcome.”

 

“Buck—” Pepa started, reaching out, but Helena wasn’t finished.

 

“So,” she went on, sipping her wine like she hadn’t just tried to flay him alive, “do you stay over when Christopher’s here, or do you wait until he’s asleep to crawl into my son’s bed?”

 

“That’s enough,” Pepa snapped, finally.

 

But Buck laughed. Sharp. Cold. Too loud. “No, no, let her talk. Clearly, she has things she’s been dying to say.”

 

Ramon set his glass down harder than necessary, but still said nothing. Coward.

 

Helena arched a brow. “Oh, sweetie. You think you're entitled to a seat at this table just because you play babysitter and warm a bed?”

 

“Helena!” Pepa barked, standing.

 

“No, it’s fine,” Buck said, standing too. “I get it. I do. I’ve played this scene before. The polite little comments. The quiet corrections. The looks. The questions with teeth.”

 

He turned to Helena. “But let me be clear, since nobody else seems to want to be: I’m not playing house. I’ve been showing up. Every damn day. For years. Because I love that kid.” He jerked his chin toward Chris. “Because I chose to.”

 

Helena rolled her eyes, her expression curling into something smug. “Love? Don’t flatter yourself.”

 

Buck’s smile sharpened. “And Eddie?” He glanced at him, eyes burning. “You gonna say something? Anything at all? Or are you just gonna sit there and let her—”

 

Eddie opened his mouth, then closed it. Almost looking confused to be included in the conversation

 

“Wow,” Buck breathed. “Unbelievable.”

 

“Don’t talk to him like that,” Helena snapped. “You don’t get to stand in this house and lecture us about family—”

 

“No?” Buck cut in, stepping closer. “Because someone has to. Someone has to say what he won’t. What you’re too damn bitter to even consider: I am family. Maybe not to you, but to Chris. To Pepa. To him—” He motioned toward Eddie, who frowned. “Because you don’t know me. You never wanted to. You took one look and decided I wasn’t worth the space I stood in. I’ve bled for this family. I’ve sat beside hospital beds, picked up pieces, kept secrets that weren’t mine to hold.”

 

Helena’s nostrils flared. “You arrogant little—”

 

Buck didn’t stop. “You think I’m some phase he’ll grow out of? Some dirty secret? You think I haven’t heard it all before? You think your cruelty will scare me off?”

 

“Evan, enough,” Pepa whispered. “Please.”

 

But it was too late.

 

Buck’s voice cracked as he said, “I’m done shrinking for people like you.”

 

And then it happened.

 

Helena stood and hit him — open palm, sharp and cruel, the crack of it cutting through the room like a gunshot.

 

Buck’s head snapped to the side.

 

Chris gasped.

 

Pepa shot up from her chair. “¡Dios mío, Helena!”

 

Eddie shot to his feet, finally, knocking over his chair. “Mamá—!”

 

Buck didn’t move for a beat. The sting on his cheek bloomed, hot and humiliating. When he finally turned his head back, eyes brimming but burning, he smiled—small, cold, broken.

 

“There it is,” he said, voice low. “There’s the truth. All that fake civility? That’s just a cover for what you really are.”

 

Helena’s lip curled. “Get out.”

 

“With pleasure.” Buck turned, walked toward the front door, and didn’t stop.

 

Not when Pepa called his name, not when Eddie said “Buck, wait—”, not when the pain in his face spread to his chest and settled deep, where it would stay for a long, long time. He didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath until the door slammed shut behind him, air rushing out of his lungs like he’d been punched. The night was cool, the street dim and silent. He walked a few steps down the driveway, far enough to get away from the house, far enough to breathe again.

 

His cheek stung. He swiped at it once, fingers trembling, then his knees buckled and he sat down hard on the curb, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

 

He heard the door open again. But didn’t look. Didn’t want to. Didn’t care.

 

“Evan, cariño,” Pepa’s voice came, quiet but firm.

 

He still didn’t lift his head. “Don’t. Just—don’t. I’m fine.”

 

“I didn’t ask,” she said plainly.

 

A pause, then the soft tap of her shoes across the pavement. She lowered herself slowly beside him, knees cracking as she sat. “God, these hips,” she muttered. “They weren’t made for curbs.”

 

Buck huffed a tired, bitter laugh.

 

They sat in silence for a long minute. The distant sound of cars. A barking dog.

 

Pepa folded her hands in her lap. “She was out of line.”

 

Buck’s jaw worked. “You think?”

 

She shot him a look. “I said it because you need to hear it. Not because you don’t already know.” She paused. “I’ve told her before to watch her mouth. You’re not the first person she’s tried to cut down.”

 

Buck stared out at the street. “But I might be the first she hit.”

 

Pepa sighed. “No. Unfortunately not.” She looked at him then, long and clear. “She hates what she doesn’t understand. And she especially hates what she can’t control.”

 

“Yeah, well, mission accomplished.” Buck scrubbed his hands over his face. “She made it real clear I don’t belong here.”

 

Pepa was quiet for a moment. “You know… for a man who gives so much love, you have a hard time believing you’re allowed to receive it.”

 

Buck’s breath hitched.

 

She reached over, took his hand. “You belong, Evan. Not because of Christopher. Not because of Eddie. Not because of anything you do. But because of who you are.”

 

His eyes welled again, faster than he could stop.

 

“I see you,” she said. “I’ve seen you from the beginning. You walked into the hospital and looked at Christopher like he hung the damn moon. You’ve been there, every fall, every appointment, every rough night. And not once did you ask what you were owed.”

 

Buck swallowed thickly, blinking fast.

 

“You’re not a mistake, mijo. You’re a miracle for that boy. And for Edmundo, too, though he’s too damn stubborn to say it out loud. They love you.”

 

Buck let out a shaky breath. “I just wanted… I just wanted to help. Be something good.”

 

“You are,” Pepa said. “Don’t let a bitter woman with an empty heart make you forget that.”

 

He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the road ahead, voice rough. “I don’t think I can go back in there.”

 

Pepa stood with a soft grunt and held out her hand. “Then don’t. Go home. Go to your sister. You can even come to my place and we’ll drink tea and watch old, embarrassing tapes from Eddie’s youth.”

 

Buck stoop up with her and laughed, a lone tear rolling over his cheek as he looked at her. Pepa smiled up at him, wiping the tear away.

 

“I’ll be fine. I’m going home. Tell Chris I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”

 

“I’ll do no such thing. Chirs loves you. And he’ll understand exactly who’s at fault here. Have a good night, Evan.”

 

“You too, Pepa.”

 

The drive was quiet. He didn’t turn on the radio. The silence felt better. Just the sound of the city at night and the dull throb in his cheek. The streetlights blurred past. He didn’t really remember the turns. He was just moving. Forward. Away.

 

His phone buzzed in the cup holder.

 

He glanced down: Eddie.

 

He let it ring.

 

It buzzed again. And again. Then stopped.

 

A minute later, a text.

 

Eddie: Buck, please pick up.

 

Buck stared at it, jaw clenched so tight it ached. His thumb hovered over the screen, but he didn’t reply. He just drove further. No destination, no thought beyond the next turn, the next breath. His knuckles ached from how hard he gripped the steering wheel. His phone buzzed again, lighting up the dark interior — Eddie. Buck didn’t look. Didn’t answer.

 

When he finally lifted his eyes and really saw where he was, the breath punched out of him.

 

Maddie and Chim’s house.

 

The porch light glowed warm against the night. Jee’s tiny scooter lay on its side by the steps, one handlebar tangled in the garden hose. It looked like safety. Like family. Like everything he didn’t feel he belonged to anymore in the Diaz household.

 

Buck climbed out, legs shaky, stomach hollow. He walked up to the door and didn’t touch the bell—just knocked, softly. Just in case Jee was sleeping.

 

The door opened a moment later.

 

“Buck?” Maddie smiled, surprised. “What a—”

 

She stopped.

 

Her face crumpled as she took him in—the bruise swelling on his cheekbone, the red rims of his eyes, the way he looked like he was holding himself together by sheer force of will.

 

She didn’t say anything else. Just stepped forward and pulled him into her arms. Buck folded into her, breath hitching, arms wrapped tight around her waist like he was drowning and she was the only solid thing in the world.

 

The sob burst out of him, rough and broken and too big for his chest.

Notes:

Spoiler: Helena is being a bitch as usual. She makes some nasty comments, knowing Buck is not straight. She slaps him as well.

Chapter 13

Notes:

TW: homophobia (more information/spoilers at the end)

 

hurting my own feelings like i’m not the dramatic author who wrote this mess

Eddie had messed up. Big time.

 

He hadn’t meant to be so distant, so cold, to have his head so far up his own ass. But the truth was, he hadn’t really been there at all. His body had gone through the motions—eating the food Buck made, sitting beside him on the couch, riding with him to Eddie's house—but his mind had been miles away. Trapped in the echo of last night. In the words he’d never thought he’d say out loud, not even to himself—let alone to Buck.

 

It still didn’t feel real. Not because it wasn’t true—God, no—it was. He knew it now. Felt it in his bones. Had probably always known, in some twisted, repressed way. But saying it had cracked something open inside him. Something terrifying. And once the words were out, there was no shoving them back in.

 

He hadn’t asked Buck for space because he didn’t want him close. Quite the opposite. Buck was the only person he wanted near. But the whirlwind inside his head had gotten so loud, so overwhelming, he couldn’t even hear himself think.

 

Every moment since he had woken up had been filled with questions that felt like daggers.

 

Was I always gay?

 

Were all my relationships doomed from the start because they weren’t with men?

 

Why didn’t I realize this sooner?

 

Did I ever really love Shannon the way I thought I did?

 

Was it all just… me lying to myself?

 

His brain had been relentless. Every memory re-examined, every decision questioned. And threaded through it all was Buck.

 

So, when Buck and he had had sex, his mind had been empty. Just filled with Buck and how good he made him feel. But then, as they came down from their orgasms (Eddie got two again!), his thoughts came rushing back. And then the words slipped out, because it was Buck. Buck would understand.

 

And Buck had understood, maybe not really, but he was there for him. He hugged him, murmured sweet nothings in his ear and held him while he sobbed. He kept holding him through the night. He made him shower in the morning. He made him breakfast. He made him drink some water and eat some lunch. Then he made dinner exactly the way he liked and drove him to his house. And Eddie had just… barely spoken. Nodded, maybe. Muted and numb.

 

He hadn’t realized what that silence was doing to Buck. Not until it was too late.

 

Because at his house everything had gone wrong. Eddie hadn't even processed half of it. He’d been foggy, distracted, looping back through the same spiral of thoughts, the same fears. He hadn’t even heard the beginning of their argument—just the tension crackling in the room, the sharpness in Buck’s voice. Then the sound of the slap. The stunned silence. Chris’s gasp. Pepa shouting. And Buck, standing there with a red cheek and wet eyes, looking like he’d just been carved out of glass.

 

Eddie had stood too late. Reacted too slow. And by the time he opened his mouth, Buck was already walking out the door.

 

Pepa had sent Chris to his room, sensing what was going to happen after she had summarized his mother’s discussion with Buck. But Eddie knew his kid, Chris was listening to every single word.

 

Helena’s voice broke the heavy silence. “So that’s it then? You’re not even going to pretend anymore?”

 

Eddie turned to face her slowly, still trying to come to terms with what Pepa had just told him. “What are you talking about?”

 

She laughed, and it was ugly—wet, bitter, almost like a sob. “I’m talking about you,” she snapped, unsteady. She was tipsy. Not drunk, but loose enough to let go of the reins. “You told us you’d have a 72-hour shift, Edmundo. Seventy-two hours of work, you said. But you know what I saw while we were walking with Chris yesterday evening? You. On the street. Holding hands with that… man.”

 

Eddie’s stomach turned. He couldn’t tell what hurt more—the venom in her tone or the sudden awareness that she knew. God, he wanted to puke.

 

“Buck,” he said, low and firm. “His name is Buck.”

 

She waved that off like it was filth in the air. “I don’t care what his name is. I know what he is. And I know what he’s done to you.”

 

“Helena,” Aunt Pepa warned. “Basta ya. You’re not helping.” Then she turned to her brother. “You’re just going to let her speak like that?”

 

“When I have something to say, you’ll hear me, Josephina,” he replied, still sitting in the armchair like he was watching TV.

 

His mother barreled forward, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wild. “He’s corrupted you, Edmundo. You think I don’t know what this is? You think I don’t know how lonely you’ve been? That man—he saw a weakness and he exploited it.”

 

“That man is the reason Chris is alive!” Eddie snapped. “He’s the reason I’m still alive.”

 

“Maybe he should’ve let you bleed out on the street, if this is what he dragged you into!”

 

That stunned Eddie into silence.

 

“Helena!” Pepa barked, grabbing her arm, trying to hold her back, but she was unrelenting, hitting Eddie in the chest over and over. He barely felt it. His mother would rather see him dead than loved by a man.

 

“You think this is love?” she screamed. “It’s disgusting! It’s unnatural! You weren’t raised like this—!”

 

“Stop!” Eddie shouted, and the sound of it shook the walls.

 

His mom faltered.

 

“I know exactly how I was raised,” he continued, chest heaving. “I was raised to lie. To bury things. To cut myself up into little pieces to make you proud. And I’ve done that my whole damn life.” His voice cracked on the next few words. “I can’t do it anymore, mom.”

 

Helena’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked like she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Maybe both.

 

“You’re confused,” she said finally, reaching for something softer. “You’ve been through a lot, Edmundo. We all have. Losing Shannon, raising Christopher alone. It’s not easy. I understand.”

 

“You don’t,” Eddie said, his voice like glass, shaking his head. “You don’t understand anything.”

 

“I’m your mother,” she said, hand on her chest like the word was supposed to mean something. “You think I don’t see it? You think I don’t know the way that man looks at you? The way you look at him? He wants you to forget who you are—”

 

“No,” Eddie cut in. “You… You want me to forget.”

 

A tense beat.

 

Pepa stood in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed tightly, watching with a face carved from stone.

 

“I saw you,” Helena hissed. “You let him touch you in public. You touch him like that in front of your son, too?”

 

People would think they had had sex in the middle of the street, the way she spoke. They had only held hands…

 

Eddie's voice turned cold. “Buck loves Chris. And Chris loves him.”

 

Her nostrils flared. “He’s going to turn that boy into something sick, too.”

 

“Say that again,” Pepa warned, stepping forward. She was standing right behind Eddie now.  But his mother’s fury only sharpened.

 

“You’re just a faggot now, huh?” she spat. “Is that what you want to teach Christopher? That it’s okay to be perverted? That it’s fine to throw away everything we taught you for some degenerate who plays house with your son?”

 

Eddie didn’t react at first. He didn’t even blink. It took him three full heartbeats to breathe again. Then, he just walked to the coat rack, pulled down her purse, and tossed it on the floor at her feet.

 

“You need to leave.”

 

Helena stared at him like he’d struck her.

 

His father finally stirred, standing up. “Edmundo, your mother—she’s angry. She doesn’t mean—”

 

“She meant every word,” Eddie said without looking at him. “And you let her say them.”

 

“I was trying to keep the peace.”

 

“There’s no peace here.”

 

“You’re being dramatic—”

 

“I’m being done.” Eddie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “This is my house. My son’s house. And you don’t get to poison it anymore.”

 

His mother shook her head. “You’re choosing him over your own blood.”

 

Eddie stepped closer, something like grief in his eyes. “I’m choosing the people who make me feel like I’m worth loving. If this is what loving you costs me—if it means hating myself for the rest of my life—then I don’t want it. Not anymore.”

 

His mother’s face crumbled. And still, she didn’t apologize.

 

He walked to the door and opened it wide. “Get out.”

 

“You’ll regret this,” she whispered.

 

“Maybe,” he said. “But I’ll finally be able to breathe.”

 

Pepa stepped between them, her voice sharp as a blade. “You’ve been warned, Helena. Don’t ever come back here with that hate in your mouth again.”

 

His mother turned without another word, and Eddie’s father followed behind her, silent as he passed.

 

The door clicked shut.

 

Silence settled like dust.

 

Someone honked behind him and Eddie jerked, realizing he’d been sitting at a green light. He swore under his breath and kept driving.

 

He’d texted Buck. Called him. Nothing. No response.

 

“Come on, Buck,” Eddie muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling over as he pulled his truck to the side of the road. He let his forehead drop onto the steering wheel with a soft thud. “Where the hell did you go?”

 

Pepa had been furious when she got back from talking to Buck. Furious, disappointed, heartbroken—for Buck. Until she saw the look on Eddie’s face. The vacant confusion. The disorientation. He hadn’t even noticed most of what had happened. Because he’d been drowning in his own thoughts, his own fears, his own shame, his guilt and confusion and… love.

 

Because he loved Buck. Of course he did. Maybe that was the clearest thing of all now.

 

And still, he’d let him walk out.

 

And then he’d thrown his parents out. He loved them too. He really did. They were his parents, and despite everything, they loved him too, in their own flawed way. But showing up unannounced, taking over his apartment, and criticizing every little thing—literally everything—was too much. Then his mother had the nerve to slap Buck, to shame Eddie into coming out, and to throw the word faggot at him like a weapon.

 

No. Not in his house.

 

So yeah, he loved them, but they weren’t welcome here. Not like that. Not while they still saw his love as something shameful.

 

And then it hit him. Of course. Where else would Buck be?

 

Ten minutes later, Eddie stood on Chim and Maddie’s doorstep, knocking gently, mindful of a sleeping Jee-Yun inside. The porch light flicked on, and the door creaked open to reveal Chim. The look on his face said everything before he even spoke. Eddie’s heart sank. He had messed up even worse than he had thought.

 

“Where is he?” Eddie asked quietly, voice rough.

 

Chim didn’t move. “You should give him a little space, man.”

 

“Chim, come on,” Eddie stepped forward, but Chim didn’t budge. “I just need to talk to him. Please.”

 

Chim’s expression hardened—not angry, just protective. “He’s not okay, Eddie. He’s been crying since he got here. He’s got a bruise on his cheek and... look, he won’t say much, but I’ve known Buck a long time. When he doesn’t talk? That’s when it’s bad.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean for any of this.”

 

“I believe you. But Eddie,” Chim said, voice low but firm, “right now, he just needs to breathe. And he finally is. Let him have tonight.”

 

Eddie looked past him, as if hoping he might catch a glimpse of Buck through the hallway. “He’s asleep?”

 

“Yeah. Out cold on the couch,” Chim said, softer now. “Just call him in the morning, okay? Let him know you’re there.”

 

Eddie nodded slowly, raking a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

 

“I know, man,” Chim said. “He’ll know too. Tomorrow.”

 

*

 

Eddie pulled into his driveway just past midnight. The porch light was still on. Pepa always left it on when he was out late. That quiet, unshakable sign of home.

 

He stepped inside, shutting the door as softly as he could. The house was silent, save for the low hum of the fridge. Chris’s door was cracked just an inch, and Eddie peeked in to see his son curled up in bed, his face peaceful in sleep. His chest loosened a little at the sight.

 

He turned and headed for the living room.

 

Pepa was on the couch, folding the last of the laundry. A blanket draped over her lap, her hands moving slowly, methodically. The TV was off. The lights were dim. The living room was spotless, smelling faintly of lemon cleaner and a candle she always lit after dinner. She had even put Chris’ games back in their place.  

 

She looked up when he entered, her face soft and knowing. “Mijo,” she said gently. “Everything okay?”

 

Eddie opened his mouth, then shut it again. Something clogged his throat. He could only nod, stiff and sharp, before sinking down beside her, elbows braced on his knees, hands covering his face.

 

She didn’t press. Just sat beside him, the warmth of her presence enough to make his eyes sting.

 

“He was at his sister’s,” Eddie said hoarsely. “Buck. I didn’t… I didn’t get to talk to him. Chim said he’s asleep. Said he’s hurt. And I just... I don’t even know if he’ll want to see me tomorrow.”

 

Which was his biggest fear. What if… Buck would never forgive him?

 

Pepa’s hand moved up to the back of his neck, grounding. “And you? Are you hurt?”

 

Eddie let out a breath that was too close to a sob and leaned back, wiping at his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispered.

 

His aunt just stayed silent, still rubbing his neck and the upper part of his back. She always used to do that when he was a child. Because she knew, he’d eventually spill the beans.

 

After a long beat, his voice came low and ragged. “She said it before I could.”

 

Pepa turned a little, facing him fully. “I know.”

 

“I didn’t want it to happen like that,” he whispered. “I didn’t want her to say it. Not like that.”

 

“I know, corazón.”

 

He let out a bitter laugh, rubbing at his face. “Guess I’m officially out now, huh?”

 

There was no humor in it. Only exhaustion. Grief, maybe.

 

But Pepa’s voice was unwavering, calm and full of love. “Mijo… I’ve known since forever.”

 

Eddie turned to look at her, eyes glassy. “What?”

 

“You think I missed the way you used to get all shy around that boy in confirmation class? You couldn’t even say his name without turning red.”

 

He let out the ghost of a laugh, breathy, wrecked. “You never said anything.”

 

“Because it wasn’t mine to say,” she said softly. “I knew when you were ready, you’d tell me. Or show me. Or walk in holding hands with that sweet blond colleague who looks at you like you’re the sun.”

 

Eddie choked on a sob before he could stop it. “I’m so tired, Tía.”

 

“Ay, mi niño, I know,” she murmured, wrapping her arm around him and pulling him close. “You’ve been carrying this alone for a long time.”

 

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked. Another broken sob escaped, and he tried to swallow it down, but Pepa only tightened her hold.

 

“Don’t you ever apologize for this,” she whispered, hand cupping the back of his head. “You are allowed to feel all of it. You should’ve been allowed to feel it years ago.”

 

He broke down then, shoulders shaking as years of silence, shame, and survival finally found release. She held him the way his mother should have—steady, strong, without judgment. Whispers of how proud she was and how sorry she was left her mouth.

 

When the storm finally ebbed, and he was breathing again, slower now, Pepa leaned back just enough to meet his bloodshot eyes.

 

“I’m so proud of you, Eddie.”

 

His voice was barely audible. “Why?”

 

“Because you finally chose you,” she said. “Because you stood up for your life. Your truth. That’s not weakness. That’s strength.”

 

He sniffled, still clinging to her hand. “She called me names. I thought I was ready to hear them. I wasn’t.”

 

Pepa’s gaze turned fierce. “It always hurts more when it comes from someone who’s supposed to love you right. But listen to me—nothing she said tonight changes who you are. Her hate? That’s on her. It has nothing to do with your worth.”

 

He nodded, blinking hard.

 

“So say it now,” she said quietly.

 

He looked at her, confused. “What?”

 

She reached over and took both his hands in hers. “Say it. To me. Your way.”

 

His throat tightened. His lips trembled as he tried to form the words. “I’m…” His voice cracked, and he laughed once, bitter and wet with emotion. “Why is this so hard?”

 

“Because it matters,” she said gently. “Because you’re brave enough to feel it.”

 

That sounded exactly like something Buck would say.

 

Eddie inhaled, eyes burning, fists clenching. And then finally, like pulling the plug on a pressure valve: “I’m gay.”

 

The word hung in the air, fragile but real. It didn’t shatter him, it freed him.

 

Pepa smiled, her hand warm over his heart. “I know. And I love you exactly the same. Maybe even a little more.”

 

That shattered him again. The tears came fast, hard, silent. He tried to stop them, wiped at his face roughly, shaking his head. “I’m sorry—God, I don’t know why I’m crying—”

 

“Porque you’ve been holding your breath for too damn long, Edmundo,” she said. “You’ve been trying to be everything for everyone and leaving no room for yourself.”

 

He let out a shaky laugh, full of disbelief and relief. “You’re not mad?”

 

“Mad?” she scoffed lightly. “I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up. Mijo, please, you’ve been looking at Buck like he’s the last tamale on Christmas Eve since the day you met him.”

 

Eddie laughed again, the sound raw but alive. “Chris is gonna ask a million questions.”

 

“And you’ll answer them. With love. Like you always do. He adores you, all of you. And Buck? If he loves you the way I think he does, he’ll understand. You just need to be honest.”

 

There was silence for a while after that. Not awkward, just still. Sacred.

 

Then, Eddie asked softly, unsure of himself, “Am I a bad son?”

 

Pepa’s hand found his cheek, gentle but firm. “You are the son any mother should be grateful for. And you are already everything your son needs. That is more than enough.”

 

He let his forehead drop to hers. “I love you.”

 

“Te quiero, mi niño,” she murmured. “Always.”

 

And they sat like that for a long time, with the quiet hum of peace settling over them. And in that stillness, Eddie finally let himself breathe. Fully. Freely.

 

*

 

The sun was far too bright for how little sleep Eddie had gotten.

The firehouse kitchen smelled like coffee and… something vaguely burnt. Bobby stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. Though today, the edges were a little too crisp, like even he was distracted.

 

A subtle tension hung in the air, the kind of quiet that followed a storm no one saw but everyone felt. After something breaks and no one knows how to fix it yet.

 

Eddie walked in with stiff shoulders and dark circles under his eyes. He scanned the space, almost unconsciously, and frowned when he didn’t see Buck. Not on the couch. Not at the table. Not next to Bobby in the kitchen.

 

Where was he?

 

Hen was already at the table, stirring her coffee slowly, watching the stairs like she’d been waiting for Eddie. She wasn’t even pretending not to watch him.

 

He murmured a soft, “Morning,” to no one in particular and made a beeline for the coffee pot, hoping it would fix his whole life. His gaze scanned the room once more, like Buck might suddenly appear from around the corner, that lopsided smile in place, mouthing Hey, Eds.

 

But the space beside him was still empty.

 

Bobby glanced over his shoulder. “Morning, Eddie. Buck called in sick. He said he just needed a day.”

 

Eddie nodded too fast. “Right. Sure. Makes sense.” He took a long pull of the coffee, trying to hide behind the heat. It didn’t help.

 

Hen didn’t say anything. Just gave him that patented Hen Wilson Patiently Waiting For You To Get There On Your Own look. She just lifted her mug to her lips, gaze steady on Eddie, as he sat down across from her without another word. His hands wrapped around his own mug as if it kept him grounded.

 

“He never misses work.”

 

“Yeah,” Hen said softly. “We noticed.”

 

Chimney strolled in, mid-text, only half-present until he clocked the silence. His eyes bounced from Hen to Eddie and back again. He didn’t sit so much as slink into the chair next to Hen like he didn’t want to make any sudden moves.

 

Eddie hesitated. He set his mug down, fingers clenched. “Did he say anything?”

 

Chim didn’t look up. “Not to me.”

 

Hen set her mug down gently. “But you know why he’s not here.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard. “He was already asleep when I got there last night. I tried to call him. Texted. Chim said to wait until today.”

 

“Because he was upset,” Chim said simply. “Still is.”

 

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Eddie exhaled shakily, looking down into his mug. “This was never supposed to happen.”

 

“What happened, Eddie?” Hen asked softly, boot nudging his shin gently.

 

For a moment, Eddie just stared into his coffee. Then, he looked up at them both and everything that had happened at his house came out. He barely noticed Bobby turning off the burner and stepping away to give them some space. Word after word tumbled out of his mouth.

 

“I should’ve said something,” Eddie finished, his voice raw.

 

Hen’s eyes filled with quiet sadness.

 

Chim exhaled. “Yeah, you should’ve. But I get it. You weren’t really… present.”

 

“So… probably worst coming out scene ever,” Hen said, managing a small smile. “But hey. Still counts. Congratulations. I’m very proud of you.”

 

“Same,” Chim said, giving him a crooked grin. “We’re not taking the moment back just ’cause it was a trainwreck.”

 

Eddie blinked hard, lips twitching like he couldn’t decide between laughing or crying. “T-thanks, guys,” he just whispered.

 

Hen reached across the table and grabbed his hand. Chim grabbed the other. They both gave a small squeeze.

 

“He’ll be at mine for a while probably,” Chim said. “Maddie was very adamant about it. She basically staged a rescue mission. Think Buck’s gonna regret coming soon.”

 

Hen snorted.

 

“She hates me, doesn’t she?” Eddie huffed, clasping his mug again.

 

Chim scoffed. “Please. That woman has a spreadsheet of people she hates and you’re not even in the top ten.”

 

Eddie blinked. “She has a list?” What was wrong with the Buckley siblings?

 

“No,” Chim said. “Probably. I don’t ask. I just try to stay off it. Don’t act like you don’t know your sister-in-law.”

 

Eddie felt like this would be an appropriate moment for his eyes to bulge out of his sockets. If this were a cartoon, of course. He just blinked at Chim instead.

 

Hen laughed loudly. “God, they’re gonna be unbearable once they make up.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Chim groaned. “Back in their bubble like the rest of us don’t exist. Sweet mercy.”

 

“What?” Eddie huffed out, feelings his cheeks warm. “Can we go back to scolding me? I preferred that.”

 

Chim’s smile faded, turning serious again. “Honestly, Eddie… she said some rough things to Buck.”

 

“I know,” he murmured.

 

“And you let her,” Hen added, voice softer. “I think that’s what stung him the most.”

 

“I know.”

 

“We all know Buck doesn’t care for random people’s opinions,” she went on. “But he thinks the world of you.”

 

Eddie pressed his hands to his eyes. “I honestly didn’t notice what was going on. I didn’t think—” He let out a long sigh.

 

Hen leaned forward slightly, gentler now. “I know you were in shock. I know that kind of family shame can make you freeze. But Buck? He needed you to be loud. Right then. Right there.”

 

“I know,” Eddie said, voice cracking around the edges. “I messed up. I wasn’t loud. And I’ll forever be sorry for that.”

 

There was a pause. A silence heavy with the words they weren’t saying. How long it had taken Eddie to get here. How often Buck had shown up for him without hesitation.

 

Chim rubbed the back of his neck, sighing like it physically hurt. “He’s not mad at you, not really,” he said. “He’s hurt. And you know Buck. He hates being mad at people he loves. So now he’s spiraling.”

 

The alarm blared through the firehouse, cutting the moment clean in half. They moved fast, muscle memory taking over. Gear on, minds already shifting.

 

Bobby met Eddie at the rig, hand on his shoulder.

 

“If you need an hour later—take it,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

 

Eddie nodded once, eyes bright but jaw firm. “Thanks, Cap.”

 

*

 

Eddie didn’t even remember parking the truck. His hands were still trembling from gripping the steering wheel too hard, the phantom sound of the slap echoing in his ears. And now here he was— standing on the porch of Chimney and Maddie’s house, heart thudding against his ribs like it wanted to escape before Buck could break it. Some coward part of him hoped Buck wasn’t home. That he’d missed his chance. That maybe Buck was out, or asleep, or anywhere but behind that door.

 

He knocked without any real hope. Twice. Not hard, just enough to say he tried.

 

It was late in the afternoon and technically he was still working, but he had taken Cap up on his offer. He had called Buck, twice, and texted even more. No replies. No read receipts. Just that sickening silence that had settled like lead in his chest. But not knocking would’ve been worse. Not knocking would’ve meant giving up.

 

The door creaked open.

 

Buck stood there, backlit by the dim hall light. Hoodie thrown on like a shield. Arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes rimmed red. He looked… used up. Not tired like end-of-shift tired. No, this was a different kind of drained—like someone had scraped everything warm and living out of him and left the shell. He wasn't even looking at Eddie. 

 

But it was the very visible bruise on his cheek that made Eddie’s heart plummet.

 

“I shouldn’t have come without calling,” Eddie said to fill the silence. Which didn't make any sense, because he had called about a hundred times since yesterday. 

 

Buck didn’t say a word. Just looked past him. Blank. Hollow-eyed. Like there was nothing left to burn.

 

Eddie’s heart seized.

 

“Chim said you’d be here.” He shifted his weight, suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands. So, he raked a hand through his hair, not used to Buck being silent. “Can we talk?” he asked, even though he knew how ridiculous that sounded now. Now, after everything.

 

Buck didn’t answer again. Didn’t move. For a second, Eddie thought he might close the door in his face. But then, with a stiff breath, Buck stepped back just far enough to let him in.

 

Eddie walked into the house slowly, like the wrong movement might shatter something already cracked wide open. The air felt strange in the house. Unwelcoming.

 

Buck didn’t sit. Didn’t speak. Just hovered near the kitchen, arms still folded tight, like he was bracing for impact, like he wanted this over with.

 

“Buck?” Eddie tried again, softer this time. “Please. Just… can we talk?”

 

Buck let out a soft scoff. He looked at the wall, jaw clenching, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Eddie. Eddie felt like one wrong move and he’d tear his own heart out. Because Buck couldn’t bear to look at him.

 

Eddie cleared his throat, pushing away the gnawing feeling of falling off a cliff. He swallowed hard. “I just want to explain.”

 

“Of course you do,” Buck finally said, voice calm in the most terrifying way. “You always want to explain after the damage is done.”

 

Eddie wanted his Buck back. He wanted Buck to smile at him. He wanted Buck to grin. To whisper. To hold him. To tell him it was okay. To tell him he understood. But that was not realistic. Eddie had fucked up. And Buck had every right to be hurt, to be pissed off, to… hate him.

 

Eddie flinched. “I didn’t expect her to—”

 

“Slap me?” Buck cut in. “Insult me? Tell me I didn’t belong in your life?” He shrugged. “Didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was how quiet you were through all of it.”

 

Please look at me. 

 

“I—”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You froze,” Buck interrupted, eyes cold, still not looking at him. “Must be nice. To have the luxury of shock. You froze. I burned.”

 

Eddie took a shaky breath, feeling like he was standing in front of a fire and letting it consume him. He was watching his skin peel off in layers. “I was wrong, Buck,” he said. “I know that. I should’ve defended you the second she opened her mouth. I should’ve kicked her out. I should’ve—”

 

“But you didn’t.” Buck’s voice cracked. His eyes met Eddie’s for the first time since he had opened the door, and Eddie suddenly wished they hadn’t. Because the look there? Wrecked. But razor-sharp. “You just let her decide who I was and what I was worth. And you didn’t say one fucking word until she hit me.”

 

Eddie closed his eyes for a second, the guilt clawing at his throat.

 

“You want to explain,” Buck said, voice quieter now. “But you never asked why it hurt so much.”

 

Eddie looked up, brow furrowed.

 

Buck didn’t blink. “Because it wasn’t the first time someone’s told me I didn’t belong. That I was too much. A burden.” His voice wobbled, and he looked away again. “It was just the first time someone said it to my face—in front of you. And you didn’t do anything.”

 

“Buck…”

 

“I don’t care that you were shocked!” Buck barked. “I was too! I was stunned and humiliated and completely exposed in a house I thought was safe. But you? You had power in that moment. And you didn’t use it.”

 

The room rang with silence after that, thick and hot. Eddie honestly didn’t know what to say.

 

“I have spent my entire childhood trying to matter to people who treated me like an afterthought,” Buck said, voice louder, angrier. “I’ve been left behind more times than I can count. I was the replacement baby. I was the brother they only mentioned in past tense. And I never said a word. I made myself small. Easy. Useful. I kept shrinking myself, becoming whatever people needed so they’d keep me around.”

 

Eddie felt his throat tighten. “You don’t have to do that with me,” he said, desperate now. “You’re not small. You never were.”

 

“No?” Buck tilted his head. “Then why did it take a slap for you to remember I was even there?”

 

Eddie stepped forward, desperately. “Because I was a coward. I panicked. And I hate myself for it. I didn’t want to believe my own mother could be that cruel. But she was. And I didn’t stop her. And I will never forgive myself for that.” He swallowed, feeling his eyes start to water. “But I swear, Buck, you matter to me. You matter to Christopher. You’re not—”

 

“Don’t.” Buck’s voice cracked like glass. “Don’t say it unless you mean every single part of it. Because I can’t—” He stopped, eyes swimming now. “I can’t be the one who has to keep convincing you I’m worth it.” His lips trembled. “Not with you,” he whispered. Buck stared at him, eyes glassy, jaw clenched. “I’ve spent years building a life where I finally felt like I mattered,” he said. “You. Chris. The 118. And then in one night, you let someone walk in and rip it all apart like I was nothing.”

 

“You’re everything to us,” Eddie whispered. “To me.”

 

Buck exhaled, shaky and bitter. “Then maybe you should’ve acted like it before I ended up having to leave the house like a fucking kicked dog.”

 

The words sliced deep. But Eddie didn’t argue. He couldn’t. Because Buck was right. Eddie understood. And he still wanted to fall to his knees and beg.

 

“I’m not living my life begging to be chosen anymore,” Buck said, voice trembling again. “I won’t sit there and smile while someone spits on me and hope someone—you—throws me a life raft. I deserve better. And it fucking kills me that I had to remind you of that. I just… I thought… I didn’t have to do that with you.”

 

Eddie stepped forward, aching. “You don’t. I swear, you don’t. I just— I panicked. I didn’t expect her to—” He moved slowly, voice a broken whisper. “I know. I swear to God, I know. And you don’t. And I…” He let go of a shuddering breath. “What do I do?” he asked, voice low, breaking again. “Tell me what to do. Please.”

 

Buck’s gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders curling in like he was folding into himself. His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white, like holding them that way was the only thing keeping him from unraveling right there in front of Eddie. Eddie reached out, slow, careful, hands trembling as they closed around Buck’s balled fists.

 

“Don’t touch me,” he whispered. “Don’t touch me, Eddie. Please.” He didn’t pull away. He didn’t move at all. He just stood there, frozen, every muscle in his body coiled tight as wire, like he was on the edge of either fleeing or crumbling. The first tear slipped down his cheek. Then another. Still, his eyes stayed fixed on Eddie’s hands around his own, like he couldn’t look anywhere else, like it hurt and he needed it all at once. Just like Eddie. 

 

“I’m sorry, Buck. I—”

 

Buck pulled back. “I don’t want excuses,” he snapped, spinning around. He roughly wiped at his face, before looking back at Eddie. His eyes were still wet, jaw trembling. “I want to know I matter when it’s not easy. When it’s ugly. When it costs you something.”

 

Eddie couldn’t breathe. His heart broke in two. “You do matter. More than anything, Buck. I— I care about you. So much.”

 

Too much.

 

Buck flinched like the words hurt more than helped.

 

“Just please tell me what to do.”

 

Buck looked at him then, really looked—and it was like he was deciding whether or not to tear out the last bit of Eddie’s heart. But then Buck shook his head, expression unreadable.

 

“I don’t know,” he said, eyes cold again. “Maybe nothing.”

 

“Don’t say that,” Eddie begged, stepping forward on instinct. “You’re not leaving me. Please—”

 

“I’m not making decisions tonight,” Buck said. “I just need space. Time. And the next time someone tries to tear me down in front of you, Eddie—” He met his eyes. “I need you to choose me.”

 

Eddie’s knees went weak. But he nodded so fast it hurt. “I will. I swear to God, Buck, I will.”

 

Buck didn’t answer. Just turned away and walked slowly into the kitchen, like every step cost him something.

 

Eddie stood there, hands shaking, heart in pieces, wondering if he’d already lost the only thing that had ever felt like home.

Notes:

Spoiler: Helena Diaz at the scene of the crime again. She uses the word faggot and insults Eddie (and Buck). She's very clear that being anything other than straight is not 'normal'.

Chapter 14

Notes:

love how invested ya'll are in the story :')

Buck’s fork hovered above the last slice of pancake, syrup pooling around it like some kind of sticky, sugary victory lap. The diner smelled like coffee and burnt toast, the way all good diners should. Athena sat across from him in their usual booth, tucked by the window where the sun hit just enough to remind Buck he was still alive, bruised cheekbone and all. The bruise throbbed a little when he chewed, but he didn’t let it show.

 

Athena raised an eyebrow at the way he was practically inhaling his breakfast. “You eat like someone’s about to come snatch that plate.”

 

He grinned but didn’t pause mid-bite. “Wait, so this guy actually tried to rob the same pharmacy twice?”

 

Athena didn’t look up from her omelet. “First time, he was too high to remember where he parked the getaway car. Second time, he thought maybe if he wore a hat, nobody would recognize him. The fool.”

 

Buck laughed, the sound bouncing off the diner walls. “That’s incredible. I mean—sad. But also, kind of incredible.”

 

“Yeah, real criminal mastermind,” she snorted, then looked at him, narrowing her eyes. “However, you say that like you’d know what to do in a pharmacy robbery.”

 

“Hey,” Buck protested, mouth full of pancake. “I deal with life-or-death situations on a daily basis. I’ve seen things, Athena.”

 

“You’ve seen shirtless bros fall off scooters.”

 

He pointed at her with his fork, swallowing. “That guy had a dislocated shoulder and an inflated ego. Dangerous combo.”

 

Athena gave him the look. That signature blend of amusement and Are you hearing yourself? she reserved just for Buck. He beamed at her like that was a win… and instantly regretted it. The stretch of his grin tugged at the bruise on his cheek, and he winced before he could stop himself. Athena’s eyes caught the movement like a hawk.

 

Buck let out a low whistle, trying to get her gaze away from the bruise. “You always get the best cases.”

 

She shot him a look. “I get the dumbest ones. That’s different.”

 

Still, Buck’s smile didn’t fade. He leaned forward a little. “I should ride along sometime soon again. Not officially, of course—just for vibes.”

 

Athena snorted. “Vibes? You want me to let you tag along on police business because of vibes?”

 

“I’m a Firefighter,” Buck said, gesturing to himself like that explained everything. “Basically, honorary LAPD.”

 

“Mmhm.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Should I get you a badge made? Maybe a sash?”

 

“I’d wear the hell outta a sash.”

 

“That,” she muttered, “is the problem.”

 

He shrugged. “What can I say? I work closely with law enforcement.”

 

Athena went still. Her fork paused midair, eyes narrowing just slightly—the way they always did when something rubbed her the wrong way. Buck could feel it, the shift in her energy. She’d noticed. Of course she had. The bruise on his cheekbone wasn’t exactly subtle, and the way he’d winced when he smiled? That sealed it. The swelling had deepened into an ugly mix of violet and blue, stark against his skin.

 

Her voice dropped. “She really hit you, huh?”

 

Buck’s hand instinctively went to the bruise. He dropped it just as fast. “Athena, it’s fine.”

 

But she was already leaning forward, reaching across the table. Her fingers found his jaw gently, but firmly, tilting his face toward the light. He didn’t resist, but he also didn’t meet her eyes.

 

“Damn it, Buck,” she muttered under her breath, inspecting the mark with a scowl. “She hit you hard.”

 

“I’ve had worse,” he muttered, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but not the truth either.

 

She pulled back a little, but didn’t look away. Her mouth was set in a tight line. “You should’ve pressed charges.”

 

Buck blinked. “What?”

 

“I wish you had,” she said, voice low but loaded. “You give me one report, and I swear, I’d have her in cuffs before the ink dried. I don’t give a damn if she’s Eddie’s mother or the Queen of England.”

 

He shifted, suddenly very aware of the heat creeping up his neck. “I didn’t want to make things harder. For Eddie. Or Chris.”

 

Athena leaned back, exhaling slowly through her nose. “And that’s exactly why you didn’t call me.”

 

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he said weakly. “Besides, it’s fine.”

 

“Oh, spare me the martyr routine,” she said, cutting him off with a wave of her fork. “You could call me from a ditch at three a.m. and I’d still chew you out for not doing it sooner.”

 

A laugh escaped him then. Real and sudden. “You kinda sound like Bobby.”

 

“Good,” she smirked. “Someone’s gotta be the voice of reason while you’re out here trying to be everyone’s emotional support golden retriever.”

 

Buck smiled down at his plate. The bruise throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but it wasn’t what hurt the most.

 

Athena’s voice softened but didn’t lose that edge of steel. “You’re family, Buck. You hear me? My family. And if anyone lays hands on you again, I will personally escort them to a holding cell and slam the door myself.”

 

He nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. I hear you.”

 

She studied him a second longer, then stabbed her omelet like it had insulted her. “Now finish your pancakes,” she said briskly. “I gotta swing by the precinct and deal with a rookie who forgot to log evidence—again. You tagging along or what?”

 

Buck smiled. It wasn’t his biggest, but it was real. “Emotional support golden retriever reporting for duty, sarge” he said, lifting his fork like a salute.

 

*

 

Buck practically had to wrestle Maddie for the right to go home after three days of sleeping on the couch and endless fun with Jee. In the end, they struck a truce: he could leave, but only if he called her every night before bed. Honestly? It was kind of nice. Maddie never failed to show up for him, even when she worried way too much.

 

As he opened his locker, something fluttered to the floor. An envelope. He bent down and picked it up, frowning slightly as he read his name scrawled across the front. The handwriting was unmistakable. It was Eddie’s.

 

His gaze flicked around the empty locker room. No one. He’d come in early, earlier than usual. That familiar thrill of anticipation crept up his spine. Without wasting another second, he changed quickly and climbed the stairs, the envelope clutched tightly in his hand and his heart pounding like it had something to say.

 

Cap sat at the table, laptop and papers spread out in front of him. He looked up.

 

“Hey, Buck,” he said, voice warm. “How are you?”

 

Buck gave a noncommittal hum and reached for the coffee pot. “Need a refill?”

 

He poured them both a cup, then took a seat, the envelope now resting on the table between his hands. Cap's eyes lingered, just for a second, but Buck didn’t look up.

 

He tore the envelope open.

 

Buck,

I’m not even sure why I’m writing this down, except that it feels easier than saying it out loud. Maybe because paper can’t look at me different.

Two days ago, Pepa brought up something I hadn’t thought about in years. She mentioned this kid I used to be close with when I was about eight or nine. Said she always knew—whatever that means. I laughed it off at the time, but it stuck with me. His name was Caleb O'Shea. He had this wild red hair that looked like it was always sunburned, and these stupid bright green eyes that made it impossible not to look back when he looked at you.

We were in confirmation class together. I used to hug all my friends back then, boys too. Caleb especially. I don't know when it changed, when I started noticing that my hands got clammy whenever I got too close to him, or how my heart would start pounding like it wanted out of my chest every time he smiled at me.

I didn’t have a name for it. Not then.

My mom found out I was still hugging the other boys, and she got cold. I mean really cold. I remember the way she looked at me, like I was doing something wrong just for showing affection. She called it weird. Said I was too soft. I didn’t get it at the time. It hurt, sure, but I didn’t stop. Hugging my friends felt normal. Right.

One summer afternoon, we all went swimming at the lake. It was one of those days where everything feels suspended, like even time's taking a breath. The other kids went home after a while, but Caleb and I stayed behind. We were sitting on the dock, legs dangling over the edge, water brushing our ankles. At some point, our fingers just… found each other. No words, no big moment. Just stillness. And his hand in mine.

That was the last time I saw Caleb.

My dad found us. I still don’t know how. He didn’t say a word, just yanked me off the dock and dragged me home. What happened next… you can probably guess. I don’t remember much of the ride, just that I felt sick. Like something inside me had cracked.

I learned then that certain kinds of love weren’t safe. That who I was, whatever this thing was inside me, needed to stay buried. Hidden. Beat out of me, if that’s what it took.

But Pepa remembered Caleb. She talked about him like it was obvious. Like the truth had always been waiting for me to come back to it.

And maybe I’m writing this because I’m tired of pretending I forgot.

Or maybe it’s because I don’t want to keep hiding. Not from myself. Not from you.

—Eddie

 

Buck’s eyes scanned the last line again.

 

Not from myself. Not from you.

 

He didn’t move right away. Just sat there, the letter trembling faintly in his hands, coffee cooling in front of him. The words blurred for a second before he blinked hard, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep it steady. His heart was still thudding, now for a different reason than anticipation.

 

He’d expected something, sure—Eddie wasn’t the kind of guy to leave a handwritten note unless it meant something. But this? Buck felt like someone had cracked open a door in a dark room he didn’t know existed, and now light was spilling through.

 

Cap’s chair scraped softly across the floor as he stood, gathering his things. The others were probably already in the locker room.

 

“You good?” he asked gently, like he wasn’t really asking about Buck’s physical state anymore.

 

Buck nodded, eyes still on the paper. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

 

Cap looked like he might say something more, but then he gave a quiet hum of understanding and left him to it.

 

Buck let the silence settle again. The hum of the building, the occasional distant voice—it all faded into background noise. All he could hear was Eddie’s voice in his head. Not the one from the letter, but the real one. The one that teased him on shift, argued with him over parenting styles, made him coffee without being asked. The one that said I trust you with my kid, without ever needing to explain what that meant.

 

He folded the letter carefully, hands suddenly gentle, reverent. It didn’t belong crumpled or left out. It belonged somewhere safe. Eddie had just given him a piece of his heart.

 

He stood up slowly, shoved the letter into the inside pocket of his jacket, and made his way toward the back bay doors. The early morning sun slanted through the windows, lighting up the dust in the air like glitter. Everything felt too quiet. Or maybe he was just listening more closely now.

 

Eddie had written him a letter. He’d shared something about himself probably no one outside his family knew.

 

*

 

And it wasn’t the only letter Buck got. The next day there was another in his locker.

 

Buck,

I don’t know if this will make sense. I’m still figuring it out myself. But I’ve been thinking about how long I’ve been carrying this… this thing I didn’t have a name for. And how many people tried to beat it out of me before I even knew what it was.

I used to think I was just a bad kid.

That was the only explanation I had back then, why I was always in trouble, always in someone’s crosshairs. My mom would say I was too soft. My dad would say I was testing him. The church would say I needed saving. And all I ever did was exist.

There was this priest. Father Diego. I don’t even remember what I said or did, maybe I looked too long at a boy in youth group, maybe I acted “wrong” again. But suddenly, I was going to confession twice a week. They sat me down in his office and told me he was going to help me fix it.

Fix me.

And I believed them.

I sat in that little wooden booth, hands folded so tight my knuckles went white, and I confessed to sins I didn’t understand. I’d say I was sorry for “feelings” that didn’t make sense. Sorry for thoughts I didn’t even know were mine. Sorry for being… wrong. And Father Diego would nod like he knew something I didn’t, and he’d tell me to pray harder.

So I did.

I prayed until my knees ached. I went to Mass. I memorized verses. I swallowed guilt like medicine. And none of it worked.

I didn’t feel better. I felt worse.

Like I was broken in a way God didn’t want to fix.

Sometimes I think about a boy from my parish, Javier Morales, the one with the dimples and the laugh that made me dizzy. We all called him Javi. I think about how I couldn’t even say his name out loud. Not then. Not even to myself. Just… carried it like a secret bruise.

My parents didn’t need to say the word. It was in the way they flinched when I touched another boy’s shoulder. In the way they overcorrected me. In the way my dad’s voice got quieter when talking about “that lifestyle.” They never said gay. But they said enough.

Looking back now, I realize they were trying to scrub something out of me. They thought they were saving me. But really, they were just making me afraid of my own skin. It took me decades to unlearn that fear. I’m still trying to unlearn. To understand that nothing was ever wrong with me.

That I’m not bad. I’m not broken. I’m not in need of fixing.  

I am just me.  

And Buck, I know it took me too long to say it. That I buried parts of myself so deep even I forgot where I put them. But I remember now.

And I’m not hiding anymore.

I’m done being sorry.

—Eddie

 

*

 

Buck,

Shannon and I were friends first. That part always gets lost in the story, even in my own head. We sat next to each other in English, traded dumb jokes and complained about our parents, teachers, the usual teenage crap. She got me in a way most people didn’t. I think that’s what made it feel safe, saying yes when she asked me to prom.

It wasn’t a big deal at first. She asked me casually, like she would’ve asked anyone. But when I told my parents?

They lit up like someone had flipped a switch.

You would’ve thought I’d announced a full scholarship to Harvard the way they reacted. My mom cried. My dad pulled me into one of those back-slapping hugs that always hurt more than he meant them to, at least, that’s what I told myself back then.

They threw a prom party.

An actual party for prom. Who does that?

The house was packed. Family, friends, neighbors, people I hadn’t seen in years. Shannon showed up in jeans and a T-shirt, totally confused. I didn’t blame her. I was too. But then I watched my parents make the rounds, introducing her to everyone as my girlfriend.

And that’s when it clicked. They thought it had worked. All the silent dinners, the long glares. The way my dad wouldn’t look at me when I cried during movies. The “talks” with the priest, the “discipline” when I hugged the wrong friend, lingered too long. The coldness that crept in the day I stopped playing football and started staying in to draw or write. The cold shoulder the day I stopped ballroom dancing because I had wanted to dance with a guy but didn’t dare to tell anyone.

They thought Shannon was the cure.

I let them think it. Hell, I wanted to believe it, too.

That night, prom night, it just… happened. I hadn’t slept with anyone before. Most of the guys I knew had already crossed that line. I hadn’t, but not because I was waiting for the right girl. I just never wanted it the way they did. Still, I figured maybe this was what normal looked like. Maybe it would change something.

And then she got pregnant.

I remember the moment she told me. We were sitting in her car, both of us too stunned to cry. I couldn’t even speak. All I could think was, How the hell am I supposed to tell my parents?

I was eighteen. Still in high school. Still just trying to make sense of myself.

But when I finally told them?

They were thrilled.

Thrilled.

My mom hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe. My dad slapped me on the back and told me I was finally a man. Said it was about time. Said, “Hopefully it’s a boy—already too many women in this house.” It was the most praise I’d ever gotten from him.

And that’s when I really understood.

They would’ve rather I become a child raising a child than face the possibility that I might be anything other than straight. That I might not turn out to be the son they’d been trying so hard to sculpt into their idea of a man.

A baby meant I was normal. A girlfriend meant I was fixed. They didn’t see fear when they looked at me. They saw pride. Because now they had something to hold up to the world and say, Look. Look at our straight son. Look how well we did. And I carried that with me for a long time. The lie. The weight. The unspoken agreement that silence kept everything neat. But I’m done with silence.

And if I could go back in time to that scared eighteen-year-old kid, I’d tell him that being loved for a lie is worse than being unloved for the truth. And that he deserved better.

I’m still learning that, I guess. But I’m trying.

—Eddie

 

*

 

Work had been… normal. As normal as it could be with everything that wasn’t being said. He barely looked at Eddie, barely spoke, and Eddie didn’t push. They danced around each other like strangers forced to wear familiar uniforms. And they sure as hell didn’t discuss Eddie’s letters. Still, just like clockwork, there was one waiting in Buck’s locker at the start of every shift.

 

Today’s shift had been brutal, giving him no space to read today’s letter. Ravi had jinxed them with the q-word before coffee, and the universe had gone nuclear. It was nonstop calls, one after the other, bodies and smoke and screaming dispatches in his ear. There wasn’t time to think, let alone read.

 

By the time Buck got home, he was running on fumes. He didn’t even bother eating. Just peeled off the day, one layer at a time—jacket, boots, shirt—left a trail of it across his floor. A hot shower numbed the aches but did nothing for the tight coil in his chest.

 

He threw on sweatpants and climbed into bed, hair still damp, muscles thrumming with exhaustion. The letter sat on his nightstand where he’d dropped it. He stared at it for a long time, chest tight.

 

Then, finally, he picked it up.

 

Buck,

You probably don’t even remember what I said that day. Our first shift together. I told you you were deadass under pressure, and you had not expected that. Told you you can have my back any day. It probably sounded like a throwaway line. Banter. Something partners say when they’re trying to figure out the rhythm of working side by side in high-pressure chaos.

But for me? That was everything.

Because I’d gone my whole life never really knowing what it felt like to have someone in my corner just because they wanted to be there. Not because I was their son or their boyfriend or their responsibility. But because they chose me.

And then you came along. Loud and messy and too curious for your own good. And suddenly I had someone who just… was there.

No questions. No conditions.

You jumped off rooftops and ran into burning buildings like your body didn’t matter if it meant saving someone else. And somewhere in all of that, you started saving me too. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but I stopped holding my breath around you.

That’s not a small thing for someone like me.

You were there for me before I ever knew how to ask for help. You were there for Christopher in a way I didn’t even think people could be. You showed up. Again, and again. And not because you had to. Because you wanted to.

You never blinked when it got hard. Never flinched when I pushed too much or shut down or let the weight of everything get too loud. You stayed. And I never told you how much that means. How much you mean.

I’ve had people in my life, Caleb O’Shea, Javier Morales, Shannon. All these names that used to mean something, that carried weight. People I tried to love the way I thought I was supposed to.

But I never felt for any of them what I feel when I look at you.

It’s not just about friendship. It’s not even about love the way the world tries to define it. It’s you. It’s always been you. The way you see me. The way you make me feel like I’m enough, even on the days I don’t believe it. You’ve had my back in ways no one ever has. Not just in the field. But when I’m falling apart. When I’m scared. When I’m too tired to pretend.

I don’t think I ever said thank you.

So here it is:

Thank you.

For being the one person I trust without thinking. For loving my kid like he’s yours. For showing me that it’s okay to want more than survival.

You once told me I could have your back too. I still do. Every day. Every hour. Every heartbeat.

Because if there’s one thing in this world I’m sure of, it’s you.

—Eddie

 

Buck’s hands shook as he finished reading the letter. He blinked. Once. Twice. Like the words might rearrange themselves into something easier if he stared long enough. They didn’t.

 

He exhaled, too harsh, too tight, like the air in his lungs didn’t want to stay. The letter slipped from his fingers and landed on his chest, edges curling like even the paper knew how heavy it all was.

 

It was beautiful. Honest. Unflinching.

 

And it hurt like hell.

 

Because yeah, he remembered that shift. Every beat of it. The way Eddie had looked at him like he wasn’t just some reckless transfer with a hero complex. The way his voice had been steady, confident, when he said You can have my back any day. Buck remembered thinking, maybe this is it. Maybe this is someone who sees me.

 

And now, after all these years, after everything they'd been through—the grief and laughter and nights spent breathing each other’s air—Eddie was finally saying it out loud. Writing it down. It’s you. It’s always been you.

 

But all Buck could think about was Helena Diaz's hand across his face.

 

The sting. The sound. The silence.

 

Eddie had sat there, jaw tight, eyes wide, like a little boy all over again, paralyzed by the ghosts of his own past. And Buck—he hadn’t expected Eddie to throw punches or make a scene. But he’d expected something. A word. A line drawn in the sand. Anything.

 

Instead, he’d been left standing there, humiliated and dismissed, like a child sent out of the room during grown-up arguments. Like he didn’t matter.

 

But he also understood Eddie. Now maybe better than ever before.

 

So yeah, the letter was beautiful. But it was also cruel.

 

Because now Buck had to sit with the knowledge that Eddie did care about him. That Eddie had always cared about him, in the quiet, complicated way that Buck had been begging for without ever saying it. And that same man, the one who supposedly trusted him without thinking, hadn’t said a single word when his mother called Buck names like he was dirt. Like he was disposable.

 

Because if there’s one thing in this world I’m sure of, it’s you.

 

Buck swallowed hard. Bitter laughter scraped out of his throat. “Then why didn’t you fight for me?” he whispered to the ceiling, voice hoarse and wrecked.

 

He knew Eddie was trying. That these letters were peeling open parts of himself he’d kept locked away for decades. Buck had read them all over and over again, watched the slow unraveling, the grief, the fear, the shame Eddie still carried from a lifetime of being told how to behave, who to be.

 

He got it. God, he got it.

 

But it didn’t make the slap hurt less.

 

Didn’t erase the way Eddie froze. Or the silence that came after. Or the hundred missed calls that Buck refused to answer because he wasn’t sure he could take Eddie’s voice in his ear sounding sorry but still not getting it.

 

Because Buck had always been the one left behind. The one not chosen. Not stood up for. Not protected.

 

He dragged a hand over his face, eyes burning. He didn’t want to be cruel. Not really. But some part of him—the bruised, abandoned kid inside—wanted Eddie to feel it. Just once. What it was like to be on the outside of something you thought was safe.

 

Then again, Buck was slowly understanding that Eddie maybe did understand. That he had been on the outside of something that should have been safe: his family.

 

He stared at the letter again. His name at the top. Buck, not Evan. He wondered if that was intentional. If Eddie still couldn’t quite let himself say the whole truth.

 

Maybe tomorrow, he’d answer. Maybe not.

 

*

 

Chris: ik u and dad are beefing or whatever lol but are you coming over to play ps5?

 

Chris: kinda miss u

 

Chris: so cringe. dont make it weird

 

Buck huffed out a quiet laugh, thumb hovering over the keyboard before he finally replied.

 

Buck: ur dad cool with that?

 

Chirs: he’s been listening to sad dad music all week

 

Chris: he’ll survive

 

Buck: be there in 20

 

Chris: lfggg

 

*

 

Buck stood on the Diaz’ doorstep, shifting his weight. The small knot in his stomach was familiar. He was nervous. He hadn’t been alone with Eddie in a week. This had been the place everything got broken.

 

Then the door swung open. Eddie’s eyes widened, surprise flashing across his face before it softened into something warmer, something like relief. 

 

“Buck,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I wasn’t—didn’t expect you.”

 

Buck shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Chris said he missed me. Said I should come over and play on the PS5.”

 

Eddie blinked, a little caught off guard. “Oh—yeah, sure. Come on in.”

 

Buck followed Eddie down the hall, catching sight of Chris sprawled on the couch, controller in hand. Chris’ face lit up instantly when he saw Buck.

 

“Finally,” he grinned. “Thought you weren’t coming.”

 

Buck grinned back. “Yeah, well. LA traffic.”

 

Eddie lingered near the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame with a small, knowing smile. “You’re always welcome here, Buck. But Chris, you could’ve told me we were expecting someone.” His tone was light, but the soft sneer was unmistakable.

 

Chris rolled his eyes, smirking. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Dad.”

 

Buck caught Eddie’s eyes for a second. There was something there—something quiet and heavy beneath the surface—but it didn’t push. Not yet.

 

Chris shoved a controller toward Buck. “Come on, Buck. Let me annihilate you.”

 

Buck snorted but sat down. “I liked you better when you were little.”

 

Eddie disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a couple of drinks and some snacks, setting them down on the coffee table. “Here. Hydrate your thumbs.”

 

Buck took a beer, nodding his thanks. As the game started, Buck’s hands moved automatically over the controller, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of Eddie’s eyes on him. Every now and then, he’d catch that quiet, steady stare—like Eddie was trying to memorize every detail, every movement. It wasn’t intrusive or awkward, exactly. It was… intense, layered with something hard to name, something raw that made Buck’s chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected tonight.

 

Buck glanced up once, meeting Eddie’s eyes. For a split second, Eddie didn’t look away. Then, just as quickly, he shifted his gaze, pretending to fiddle with his phone. The small movement was almost shy, and somehow, that made Buck’s heart stutter.

 

Chris, focused on the game, didn’t notice what was happening between them. He laughed, beating Buck at a tricky part, and teased, “Come on, Buck! You’re getting distracted.”

 

Buck laughed it off but couldn’t deny it. His concentration was slipping. Every time he looked up and saw Eddie watching, it pulled him away from the screen. He missed a jump, lost some ground, and Chris pulled further ahead.

 

“Dude,” Chris groaned, “are you even trying?”

 

Buck blinked, dragging his eyes back to the screen. “Yeah, sorry. I—uh—zoned out.”

 

Chris narrowed his eyes at him in that suspicious teenager way he’d picked up lately. “Right. Zoning out. Sure.”

 

The game buzzed around them, but Buck’s world had narrowed to the space between him and Eddie’s quiet, searching gaze. It was like a question hung there—unspoken but heavy—and Buck wasn’t sure if he was ready to answer it yet.

 

But, fuck, his mind wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop thinking about their nights together. About how good he had felt with Eddie clenching around him. About the low, breathless noises he made when Buck pushed in deep and slow and stayed there. About Eddie’s mouth, warm and eager.

 

And not just that.

 

How terribly wonderful it had been to practically live with Eddie. How lovely it was when they had gone out to eat. How much fun it had been. Everything. Not only the sexual part.  It had felt like… something. Like home.

 

Buck swallowed hard, his throat dry, eyes flicking up again. Eddie wasn’t even pretending to watch the game anymore. He was just watching him. There was something in his expression—an apology, maybe. Or guilt. Or want. Buck didn’t know. Couldn’t tell. It made his skin itch and his stomach twist in that too-familiar way.

 

Chris won the match with a final explosion of color and sound, throwing his arms up. “Victory is mine!”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck said, running a hand over his face. “You got lucky.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Chris grinned, stretching out. “I’m getting ice cream. You guys want some?”

 

Eddie stood too quickly. “I got it.”

 

Chris shot them both a look. “Right, ‘cause I’m a baby and can’t grab ice cream by myself,” he said. Then he disappeared into the kitchen.

 

Buck stayed where he was, controller still in his hands but limp in his lap.

 

Eddie didn’t sit back down. He just hovered there beside the couch, like he wasn’t sure what Buck needed. Like he didn’t know if he was allowed to even speak to him.

 

Buck looked up slowly. “You’re staring,” he said, voice low.

 

“I know.” Eddie didn’t look away this time. “I can’t seem to stop.”

 

Buck’s heart thudded once—loud and solid—like it was reacting to the words before his brain could. He let out a shaky breath, tried to ground himself, but it didn’t help. Not with Eddie looking at him like that.

 

“Why?” Buck asked. “You didn’t seem to want to see me last time I was here.” And Buck felt guilty the moment the sentence had left his mouth. This was Eddie, not some random dude. They were best friends.

 

Eddie winced like he’d been struck. “Buck—” He looked down for a second, jaw clenched, and then he slowly sat on the edge of the coffee table, right in front of Buck. Not too close. Not touching. But close enough that Buck could feel the warmth of him, the weight of what was coming.

 

“I know,” Eddie said softly. “And I hate that I didn’t do anything. That I let her treat you like that. You didn’t deserve it. You never have.”

 

Buck didn’t say anything. Just watched him. Waited. Holding his breath.

 

“My whole life, I’ve been trained to keep the peace,” Eddie continued, voice low, rough. “To make myself small enough to fit into whatever version of me someone else needed. My parents... they were good at twisting love into something conditional. You either followed the rules or you didn’t get to keep it.”

 

Eddie’s eyes flicked up to Buck’s again, and there was no hiding now. Not the ache. Not the regret.

 

“And then you showed up. And you didn’t ask me to shrink. You didn’t ask me to earn it. You just... stayed. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

 

Buck looked away first this time, blinking hard. “You hurt me.”

 

“I know,” Eddie said, and the crack in his voice nearly undid Buck. “And I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve said something. I should’ve told her to keep her hands off you. I should’ve stood next to you. I was so deep in my own head. I was scared, and I let that fear take the wheel.”

 

Buck’s hands flexed against the controller in his lap. “You’re not the only one with fear, Eddie.”

 

“I know,” he said again, quieter. “And I don’t want to be the reason you ever feel like you’re not wanted here. Because I do. Want you. Every day. Even when I was too much of a coward to say it.”

 

Buck exhaled, long and slow, tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “Chris texted me.”

 

Eddie nodded. “I know. He missed you just as much as I do.”

 

Buck’s eyes flicked toward the kitchen, then back to Eddie. “He’s the only reason I’m here.”

 

“I know,” Eddie said. “But I’m glad you are.”

 

Buck swallowed the lump forming in his throat, jaw tightening. “This isn’t something you can fix in one night.”

 

“I’m not trying to fix it all at once,” Eddie said. “But I am trying. I swear to you, Buck.”

 

“I know,” Buck whispered.

 

Chris came padding back into the room with two bowls of ice cream balanced precariously in his hands. “You two done being weird yet?” he asked.

 

Buck huffed a laugh, wiping at his eyes quickly. “Come here, let me annihilate you this time.”

 

Eddie took one of the bowls from Chris and handed it to Buck, fingers brushing, lingering. And Buck let them. Let it happen.

 

*

 

The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the soft creak of the couch beneath him. Buck ran a hand through his hair, eyes flicking around like he was searching for the right words and a way to make sense of everything tangled inside.

 

“I thought I had it figured out,” he started, voice uneven. “Back in 2021, with Dr. Copeland… she was telling me all this stuff, about how I hide, how I push people away before they can leave me, how I’m scared of being too much. I got it. Like, really got it. She helped me see it, name it. I learned the tools, you know? How to say what I’m feeling, how to be honest, how to let people in.” He swallowed hard, eyes tightening. “I was doing good for a while. I mean, I was actually saying stuff, letting people see me—not just the firefighter guy, but me.”

 

Frank’s gaze was steady, inviting. “And now?”

 

Buck’s laugh was hollow, breaking on the edge of a wince. “Now, it’s like… none of that matters. Like I’m back to square one. Every time I try to be open, someone says I’m ‘too sentimental’ or ‘overreacting’. Or I make it all about me. And then I think, ‘Why bother?’ So, I shut down again. And I’m angry at myself for shutting down. It’s like a loop I can’t break.” His voice dropped to a whisper, almost to himself. “And then the worst part—I hate that I need to be reassured. Like… Like I hate that I’m still that scared kid who just wants to know someone’s not gonna leave. I want to be past it. But I’m not.”

 

Frank nodded thoughtfully. “You mentioned Dr. Copeland. What was it like when she retired?”

 

Buck exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. “I felt… lost. Like I’d just started to really get somewhere, and then she was gone. And honestly, part of me felt like I didn’t need to keep going. Like I was cured or something.”

 

Frank’s voice was gentle. “Did you feel cured?”

 

Buck laughed bitterly. “Hell no. Not even close. I guess I thought the tools would be enough. Like if I just said the right things, I could fix the feelings. But it’s not that easy. Because even when I know all the theory, the feelings don’t just stop.” He looked up, eyes raw. “It’s like knowing the fire’s there, knowing the smoke’s rising, but you can’t put it out. And then you feel guilty for wanting help putting it out in the first place. So you hide it. And then you hate yourself for hiding it. It’s a whole damn mess.”

 

Frank shifted in his wheelchair, nodding. “When you notice yourself in that loop, what do you usually do?”

 

Buck hesitated, the words scrambling for space. “Usually? I try to talk myself down. Remind myself what I learned. But it’s like… my brain’s in two places. One part’s screaming, ‘You’re not enough’, and the other part’s like, ‘You know that’s not true’. But the screaming is louder.” He ran a hand through his hair again, frustrated. “And then I think, ‘Why should I bother showing up for people if they think I’m just… too much?’ So, I stop showing up. Like maybe if I’m not there, they won’t get hurt, and maybe I won’t get hurt either.”

 

Frank’s voice was calm, patient. “What do you think it would take for you to break that cycle?”

 

Buck blinked, caught off guard. “I don’t know. I guess… I want to believe I’m worth the mess. That I’m worth being seen, even when I’m ‘too much’. But it’s hard to hold onto that when the world keeps telling you otherwise.”

 

Frank smiled softly. “That’s a lot to hold. But it’s good you’re here, saying it out loud.”

 

Buck looked at him, and something in his chest pulled tight, like a thread he hadn’t realized was still tangled until now. His voice came quieter this time, stripped bare. “Yeah. I’m here.” He sat back against the couch, fingers twitching in his lap. The silence stretched between them, not heavy, but not exactly light either. Just… honest.

 

“I think I just wanted it to mean something,” Buck said after a beat. “All that work I did with Dr. Copeland. All that progress. I wanted it to stick. And now, falling back into old patterns—it makes me feel like I failed her. Like I failed myself.”

 

Frank didn’t interrupt. He waited.

 

Buck swallowed, eyes burning. “But I guess… maybe the work isn’t about being cured. Maybe it’s about coming back. About not giving up on yourself, even when it feels like you’ve gone backwards.”

 

Frank nodded, humming encouragingly. “That sounds like something worth holding onto.”

 

Buck gave a small, almost imperceptible smile.

 

Outside the window, the sun had dipped behind the buildings, casting everything in dusky gold. He didn’t feel lighter exactly, but he felt seen.

 

“I’m not done,” he murmured. “I’m just… starting again.”

Chapter 15

Notes:

can someone pls love me the way eddie loves buck

Eddie groaned as he collapsed onto his bunk, the metal frame creaking beneath him, the thin mattress doing nothing for his aching back. Night shifts were hell. Just when his body adjusted to being nocturnal, the shift ended and normal hours came crashing back. Whether it was 24, 48, or 72 hours, it always ended the same: body wrecked, eyes burning, mind buzzing, and the cruel promise of sleep just out of reach.

 

Didn’t matter. The second that alarm screamed, you had to be up, functioning, throwing on gear and playing hero. No one cared if you’d slept two hours or none.

 

He rubbed a hand over his face, hoping maybe if he pressed hard enough, he’d erase the tension behind his eyes. Hoping that if he stared long enough at the ceiling, sleep would come.

 

It didn’t. Not with them within earshot.

 

Buck was easing his way back into the team. Slowly. Quietly. Which Eddie appreciated. Or tried to. He laughed more now. Especially with Ravi. They were like a comedy duo two bunks down, whispering and shoving and grinning like they weren’t in a room full of people trying to forget how tired they were.

 

And yeah, that was a good thing—objectively. Eddie wasn’t an asshole. He wanted Buck to find his footing again.

 

But did it have to be with Ravi?

 

Lately, the two of them had been inseparable, laughing over coffee, trading stories during cleanup, whispering and grinning like schoolkids during downtime. Buck had laughed more in the past few days than in the past two weeks.

 

It had been almost two weeks since that night. Since his parents had shown up like a wrecking ball and left silence in their wake. No calls. No texts. Not a word.

 

Tía Pepa had been over for dinner a few times, bless her. Hen and Cap were careful not to get too involved in the tension between Buck and Eddie. Chim was the only one who had actually said it out loud—that it wasn’t their place to interfere, that he wouldn’t choose sides. Eddie had nodded, pretended it didn’t sting. Because yeah. He got it.

 

Buck and Ravi were whispering like middle schoolers at a sleepover. And maybe it was childish. Maybe it was petty. But it grated.

 

Especially since Buck and he hadn’t really talked anymore—not really. They were fine. Civil. Normal, even. But not like before. Not best friends, not the late-night beer on the porch kind of close they used to be. Not the random FaceTime calls even though they had spent their whole shift shoulder to shoulder. Especially not the sexy times in Buck’s bed kind of close.

 

Eddie heard them laughing again.

 

“No,” Ravi whispered, half-laughing, half-horrified. “Oh no. What is wrong with you?”

 

Buck replied, voice too low for Eddie to make out, and then came even more laughter, quick, breathless, muffled like they were trying not to wake the others.

 

Eddie rolled onto his side, jaw clenched, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. He wasn't even sure what pissed him off more—the laughing or the fact that it wasn't with him anymore.

 

“You’re funny,” Ravi whisper-yelled. “Please don’t go bald.”

 

Another explosion of laughter. Another round of shoving and snickering and goddamn inside jokes. Because what did that even mean?

 

Eddie’s fists curled in his blanket. He sighed, flopping onto his back.

 

He’d told himself it didn’t matter. That it was good Buck had people, support, space to breathe again. That maybe this was what he needed. But still… watching Buck let someone else all the way in… Watching someone else get the version of Buck that used to belong to him?

 

It burned.

 

And the worst part? He had no right to feel this way.

 

Didn’t stop him from feeling it anyway.

 

Eddie turned again, this time onto his stomach, shoving his face into the pillow like it might smother the laughter and the ache clawing behind his ribs.

 

It didn’t.

 

He could still hear them. Still hear him.

 

The cadence of Buck’s voice had changed over the years—deeper, more sure of itself—but that damn laugh? It was still the same. That full-body, nose-scrunched, shoulder-shaking laugh that had once been Eddie’s reward after a long shift. A private sound in the quiet moments when the world wasn’t watching. Now it echoed a few bunks over, softened by the dark, but cutting just the same.

 

The cruelest part?

 

Eddie couldn’t even be mad at Ravi. The guy was solid. Good firefighter. Easygoing. Smart. Funny. Everything Buck seemed to enjoy. Everything Eddie used to be to him, before things cracked. Before silence took up more space than their words. Before Buck stopped looking at him.

 

Eddie dragged the blanket over his head. He was too damn tired for this. Too tired to be stuck in the quicksand of his own feelings.

 

A sharp bark of laughter broke out—Buck again—and Eddie let out a noise of pure frustration, muffled into the mattress. A groan. A growl. Something bordering on a wounded animal.

 

Someone snorted. Chim, probably.

 

“Some of us are trying to sleep,” came Hen’s voice, dry and low from the other end of the room.

 

“Sorry,” Ravi whisper-laughed.

 

“Sorry,” Buck echoed, not sounding sorry at all.

 

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut. His mind, as always, betrayed him—offering up the memory of Buck sprawled in his bed, laughing like that at him, shirt half-rumpled, feet cold against Eddie’s calf under the sheets. His laugh had been softer then. Sleepier. Private.

 

Now it belonged to the room.

 

To Ravi.

 

He exhaled slowly through his nose, forcing his body to stay still, to not get up, to not do something stupid. Because what was he going to do? March across the room and demand Buck laugh less? Ask Ravi to stop being funny?

 

Ask Buck if he missed him too?

 

No. Eddie Diaz didn’t do that.

 

And somewhere between a snicker and the creak of a shifting bunk, he realized: if this was what normal felt like—this distant, fractured, almost-friendly version of them—then maybe normal was the cruelest thing of all.

 

Eddie threw the blanket off with more force than necessary, the sharp whuff of air under it drawing curious glances. Not that he cared. He swung his legs over the side of the bunk and sat there for a second, elbows on knees, fingers pressed into his temples like he could massage the feeling away. The noise. The weight. Them.

 

God, he’d even welcome a fire right now.

 

Another quiet chuckle floated across the room. Eddie stood.

 

He didn’t slam the door. He didn’t stomp his boots. But every movement was tight, clipped, restrained like a ticking bomb trying not to detonate in public. He didn’t look at anyone as he left the bunk room—just shoved open the door and disappeared into the dim hallway, lit only by the low emergency strips near the floor. It was almost peaceful, out here.

 

He went to the kitchen first out of habit, then stood there uselessly for a second before pivoting and walking down to the apparatus bay. The trucks sat in the dark like sleeping giants. He took a seat next to one of the wheels of the ladder truck and finally exhaled. His body folded in on itself, elbows to knees again, chin in his hands. It felt stupid—being this angry. This petty. But he couldn’t shake it.

 

Because that laugh used to be his.

 

He didn’t hear the footsteps until they were already close.

 

“Rough night?”

 

Eddie blinked, lifting his head to look at Hen. She padded in quietly, hoodie half-zipped, coffee flask in hand. She looked more amused than surprised to find him brooding in the dark like some tragic telenovela character.

 

“Don’t,” Eddie muttered.

 

“Didn’t say anything,” Hen replied, settling beside him.

 

She sipped her coffee. They sat in silence for a beat.

 

Then, “It’s Buck and Ravi, huh?”

 

Eddie sighed. “I said don’t.”

 

Hen arched an eyebrow. “Look, if I had to hear one more giggle from Ravi, I was gonna pour dish soap in his boots. Or down his throat. So, believe me, I get it.”

 

Eddie snorted, grudgingly.

 

Hen gave him a sideways glance. “You’re not mad at them.”

 

Eddie sighed again, the sound ragged. “I just... I don’t know. It used to be me and him. We knew each other. Could tell what the other needed without saying it. And now it’s like... he laughs at Ravi’s dumb jokes and I’m this ghost in the room.”

 

Hen took another sip. “Well, ghosts don’t storm out of bunk rooms.”

 

“I didn’t storm.”

 

“Eddie. Please.”

 

He huffed a reluctant laugh, dragging a hand over his face. “I know I don’t have the right to be pissed. It’s not like we’re— It’s not like he owes me anything. But I see him light up around Ravi, and I just... I miss the way he used to look at me.”

 

Hen tilted her head thoughtfully. “Honestly? The only good thing coming out of this is Buck’s baking. That lemon loaf from this afternoon? Divine. I nearly hid the last slice in my locker.”

 

Eddie blinked at her, a half-laugh escaping. “Seriously?”

 

She shrugged. “What? I contain multitudes.” Then, more gently, she added, “You don’t need a right to feel something, Eddie. You’re allowed to want what you had. You’re allowed to hurt that it’s gone. But the only way through it is to talk to him. Not glare at the ceiling until your jaw breaks. Or think of all the different ways you can kill Ravi.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes at her, but let out a shaky breath, chest tightening. “What if it’s just gone, Hen? What if we can’t get it back?”

 

Hen bumped her shoulder against his. “Then you deal with it. But maybe, just maybe, it’s not gone. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to say something. Anything.”

 

Eddie exhaled slowly, eyes on the floor. “I told Chris, you know. About me. About being gay.” He laughed under his breath, barely a sound. “I was so nervous. Practiced what I was gonna say for hours. And when I finally told him, he just looked at me and went, ‘Cool. Like Harry’s dad, right?’ Like it was no big deal. Said Michael was super old when he came out and nobody cared, so why would he?” Eddie paused. “Sometimes I think my kid is braver than I am.”

 

Hen bumped her shoulder against his again. “You did good, Eddie,” she said, voice low and sure. “Chris is who he is because of you. You raised him to be kind, and open, and brave. Don’t sell yourself short.”

 

Eddie huffed a breath, something like a laugh caught in his chest.

 

“He might’ve gotten the courage from you, even if it took you a little longer to use it.”

 

Eddie went still. He stayed seated on the truck, head bowed, hands slack between his knees. Hen’s shoulder was a steady, grounding weight beside him—until the bunk room door creaked open and someone stepped into the corridor.

 

Footsteps padded down the hall and into the bay. Eddie and Hen both looked at Buck as he walked up to the kitchen, water bottle in hand. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t even slow. The scrape of his bottle against the sink grated more than it should have.

 

Hen stood up. “I’m gonna let you handle this,” she said softly, patting his shoulder once. “Don’t be a dumbass.”

 

Eddie let out a breath that was half a sigh, half a laugh. “No promises.”

 

She left without another word, disappearing through the bunk room door as Buck stepped out of the kitchen, bottle in hand, half full and dripping. He paused. Longer than necessary. Eddie didn’t look at him, trying to calm the galloping of his heart. But he knew Buck was standing there—hovering—caught between two choices and hating both.

 

After a moment, he took a few slow steps toward Eddie and stood just out of reach, fiddling with the cap of his bottle.

 

“I didn’t get a letter today,” he said finally. His voice wasn’t accusing, just quiet. Careful. Almost like he regretted bringing it up.

 

Eddie blinked, then looked up. “Oh,” he said, like the word had to travel up his throat and out his mouth before it could mean anything. “Yeah. Sorry. Mornings have been kind of hard with Chris this week. He didn’t sleep well again, and I didn’t have time to put it in your locker.”

 

He stood slowly, joints stiff, and walked toward his locker. He opened it quietly, almost self-consciously, and dug into his bag. The folded letter, inside the envelope, a little wrinkled, slid free. He walked it back toward Buck, holding it out.

 

Buck reached for it, fingers brushing Eddie’s just barely, and then he turned without a word. Eddie let out a breath, already halfway to convincing himself that was the end of it. But Buck didn’t go back to the bunk room. He stopped just a few feet away, glanced once at the dim hallway, then sat down on the edge of the steps—leaving a careful amount of space between them.

 

Eddie hesitated. Then walked over and lowered himself down beside him, not saying anything at first. He cleared his throat, feeling strangely self-conscious. “Didn’t think you read them.”

 

Buck didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on the letter in his hand, fingers running over the edge of the envelope. Like it was something sacred.

 

And maybe it was. Because Eddie didn’t use ink to write the letters, he used his blood. He gave a piece of his heart to Buck with every single story.

 

“I do,” Buck said after a beat. “Kind of look forward to them, actually.” It was awkward, the way he said it. Like it didn’t come out the way he wanted, or maybe he hadn’t meant to admit that at all.

 

He didn’t wait for a response. He quietly opened the envelope and unfolded the letter, eyes scanning the page. It was about Eddie’s perspective during dinner with his parents and the regrets he carried. He turned his gaze away from Buck, letting it drift down the hall. He didn’t leave, though. Didn’t move.

 

It didn’t take him long, though.

 

Against his will, Eddie’s eyes returned to Buck. He sat hunched over, the letter trembling slightly in his grip, his eyes scanning each line like the words might slip away if he read too slowly. The bay was quiet, aside from their breathing. Eddie could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, the hum of the fridge upstairs in the kitchen. But mostly, it was the silence between them that pressed the hardest.

 

He'd known this letter might hurt. He hadn’t expected to watch it shatter Buck right in front of him.

 

Buck exhaled sharply and lowered the paper to his lap. His hands scrubbed at his face like he could wipe away what he’d just read. His lips parted, but no sound came out. When he finally turned his head, Eddie could see the horrified look on his face.

 

“Is this true?” he whispered.

 

Eddie’s throat tightened. “Buck…”

 

“No.” Buck stood abruptly, letter still in one hand, the other gesturing wildly, like the air itself might give him answered. “Don’t ‘Buck’ me. Just—please. Tell me. That night—your mom, the slap, you going all quiet afterward—was it really because you were... lost in your head? You weren't… ignoring me? You weren’t taking her side?”

 

Eddie flinched like the words itself had his him. He stood up too, stepping forward, slow, cautious, like Buck might bolt. “Fuck, no.” He swallowed. “I—I didn’t know, until Pepa told me,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize how it looked. How I must’ve made you feel. I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t care—”

 

“But you did,” Buck interrupted, and his voice broke on the word.

 

Eddie didn’t understand what was happening right now. His thoughts spun, trying to catch up with how fast the ground had shifted beneath his feet

 

“For weeks,” Buck went on, every word sharpened by something raw and aching. “I thought you were just too much of a coward to speak up. That you ignored what happened on purpose. I’ve been cruel to you, Eddie. I’ve said things I can’t take back because I thought you broke my heart and didn’t even care. And now you’re telling me—”

 

“I thought you knew,” Eddie said, voice low, almost a whisper. His heart punched hard against his ribs.

 

Buck let out a short, bitter laugh and looked away, jaw clenched. “You thought I knew?” His eyes flicked back to Eddie’s. “You thought I knew, when I got slapped across the face in front of your kid and your entire family and you didn’t say a single goddamn word?”

 

Eddie’s mouth opened. Closed. His chest felt tight, like the air was thinner now.

 

“And no one told me.” Buck’s voice turned softer, but it was somehow worse. “I thought you… I thought I was just something you were too ashamed to stand up for.”

 

Eddie’s stomach dropped.

 

“No,” he breathed, taking another step forward. “God, Buck. No. I was ashamed of myself. I was scared. I’d just told you I was gay, I had said those words for the first time in my life. I’d just had the most terrifying, vulnerable night of my life and I didn’t know who the fuck I was anymore. I didn’t mean to leave you alone in that. I didn’t see what was happening.”

 

Buck was staring at him, breathing hard. “You thought I knew. And I thought you didn’t care.” His voice was quiet now, fragile. “And all this time, we were both hurting for no reason.”

 

“For no reason?” Eddie echoed, his voice barely audible, like if he said it softly enough, the truth might morph into something gentler. Something forgivable. And for a second, something stirred in his chest. A flicker.

 

A flicker of maybe.

 

Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe all the nights lying awake, aching for answers, for Buck, hadn’t been in vain. Maybe Buck loved him, maybe he always had. Maybe they could salvage something from the ruins, build something new from the honesty between them.

 

He dared to hope.

 

But Buck gave a small shrug, more like an apology than a reassurance. “Well, not no reason, but yeah. You’re still my best friend.”

 

The words landed like a blow.

 

Eddie felt it, physically. Like someone had ripped something warm and glowing straight out of his chest and replaced it with ash. The spark inside him dimmed, hissed out, drowned in a sudden downpour of disappointment.

 

Best friend.

 

Of course. That’s what he’d always been. That’s what Buck had clung to. While Eddie had been standing on the ledge of something deeper, something terrifying and sacred, Buck had stayed behind. Safe. Platonic. God, he’d been so stupid.

 

“I’ve just been… in my head about it,” Buck continued, not even seeing the devastation he’d left in his wake. His eyes were distant now, like he’d already slipped away. “I thought I wasn’t enough. Not worth fighting for. I don’t know. Maybe your mom was right.”

 

Eddie blinked. The mention of his mother barely registered, he was still trying to hold himself together, trying to breathe through the ache clawing up his throat.  This wasn’t how he’d imagined it. Not even close. He thought Buck would see it. See him. He thought Buck would reach for him.

 

But instead, Buck gave a quiet nod. “Thanks for the letters.” And then he turned, walking back toward the bunk room.

 

*

 

Days passed by in a blur, like Eddie was under water again. He did his job, smiled and laughed at the appropriate times. Made some comments at the appropriate time. But he didn’t feel like part of the team anymore… which was, weird. Because everything looked normal. Buck bumped shoulders with Eddie. He cracked jokes. They worked together like before. Sure, sometimes he was a bit distant and he had new boundaries but Buck was… It was like nothing had happened. Like Eddie’s parents hadn’t fucked everything up. Like Eddie hadn’t come out of the closet. Like Buck hadn’t ripped out Eddie’s heart, only for him to give him hope because of a misunderstanding—was it even a misunderstanding?—and then ripping his heart out again.

 

Eddie had skipped the last session with Frank, unable to let him crack him open again.

 

He hadn’t been to church or seen Father Brian ever since his parents had gotten to LA.

 

There was routine in his day. Almost robotic. His days were about the 118 and Chris, occasionally his tía Pepa, who saw right through him no matter how often he insisted he was fine.

 

But he noticed the little things. The way Pepa started dropping by more frequently. The way Hen gave him looks—soft, concerned, like she knew exactly how far gone he was. The way Cap would squeeze his shoulder as if trying to pull him back.

 

And most importantly, the way Buck didn’t seem to notice at all. Or didn’t want to notice.

 

What the hell was wrong with him? Why was he feeling like this? Why couldn’t he just move on the way Buck had?

 

Maybe because Buck had fucked him and Eddie had told him he was gay. And despite the emotional fog the next day, he’d dared to hope. He’d thought maybe Buck had started whatever that was between them because he’d been in love with Eddie too, all along.

 

“Hey, you good?” Buck asked, eyes scanning his face.

 

Eddie hummed, looking out of the window.

 

They were having lunch. Him. Buck. Hen. Karen. And the kids. The kids had their own table behind the adults. Hen was just checking in on them, while Karen had excused herself to go to the toilet. Which left Eddie alone with Buck.

 

“Feel free to share if something’s up,” Buck said, voice low.

 

“I’m fine,” Eddie replied automatically.

 

Buck hummed. “I started therapy again.”

 

Eddie looked up, surprised. “That’s good. What made you go back?”

 

Buck shrugged, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer. Then he shifted, leaning in a little, deciding to be honest. “Everything that happened… like with your mom and stuff… it made me reflect on how unhealthy my obsession is with wanting to please, you know? Pleasing people, but trying to keep them on an arm’s length, not letting them fully in.”

 

Eddie nodded, listening to every word and cataloging it, savoring it. Buck was opening up. To him.

 

“I have always had a really hard time with dealing with my emotions, and sharing them, I guess…” Buck looked away for a moment, before looking back at Eddie. “I never really felt like I could show my negative emotions, always scared people would think I’m too much, or too sensitive. And maybe I am.” He shrugged. “But I’m trying to learn that I’m not leaving because of how others feel, and that it’s okay to share my own emotions and trust that people will stay.”

 

Eddie hummed. “I’ve never seen you as upset and angry,” he commented. “Maybe that one time when your parents were in town and you found out about Daniel. But this was…”

 

He noticed the change in Buck’s eyes, there was something akin to panic in them, even though he tried to hide it. But Eddie knew Buck. Inside out.

 

“Which makes complete sense,” he added quickly. “It was awful. And I’m glad you let yourself be angry—even at me. Because I’d never leave you for feeling anything, Buck.”

 

Buck gave him a small smile, shoulder relaxing.

 

“I love you,” Eddie blurted. “You’re my best friend. I’d never walk away. So, yeah, you’ve got Maddie, but you’ve also got me. Even if you’re angry at me.”

 

“Yeah, I, uh… I love you too, man.”

 

And just like that, Eddie’s heart cracked all over again. It wasn’t a sudden break, more like the familiar ache of something already shattered, the pieces grinding together. He’d been carrying that ache for weeks now. Because those words from Buck… the ‘I love you too’, they weren’t the kind Eddie wanted. He wanted those words, yes—desperately, achingly, selfishly—but only if they were spoken with the kind of intention that rearranged the soul, not with the casual affection of a friendship Eddie was already drowning in. He didn’t want to be Buck’s best friend anymore, not just his best friend, not the person he could count on but never truly chose, and yet, even in the hollow silence that followed Buck’s platonic echo, Eddie still found himself grateful. Because the truth was, Buck had every reason to walk away, to put distance between them after everything, and the fact that he hadn’t, that he was still here, still smiling, still trying, meant more than Eddie could ever say without falling apart completely.

 

So, Eddie wasn’t giving up. He couldn’t. He’d show up again and again—for Buck, to Buck. He’d be loud about it. Honest. Proud. In love. Even if it meant hurting his own feelings. He’d lay his heart bare if it meant Buck’s could breathe easier.

 

Because that was what his love looked like.

 

If Buck was happy, Eddie was happy. When Buck smiled, Eddie did too. When Buck hurt, Eddie carried that pain like it was his own.

 

Eddie loved Buck. Fully. Fiercely. Unconditionally. With a kind of devotion that both grounded and destroyed him, and he wasn’t going to hide it anymore, wasn’t going to pretend that what he felt was anything less than infinite, because he had already come too close to losing him once, to letting silence and fear and timing steal him away, and he would not, could not, allow that to happen again. Not now. Not ever.

 

Just as Eddie was trying to pull himself together, Hen returned to the table, grinning like she had just witnessed something either adorable or mildly criminal.

 

“You guys,” she said, already chuckling as she sat down next to Buck again. “I leave those kids alone for two minutes and Denny’s convinced Christopher and Mara to start a revolution.”

 

Eddie blinked. “A what?”

 

“A full-blown uprising,” Hen clarified. “Apparently, Chris wanted the right to have lunch with the kids, unsupervised, so Denny decided they should unionize. They want to invite Harry to the cause as well. And May, if she wants. Even Jee will become a prospective member”

 

Buck laughed, eyes crinkling with delight. “What kind of revolution are we talking here? Signs? Chants? Occupy-the-backyard style?”

 

“Oh, it’s real. Denny stood on a chair and declared himself their spokesperson,” Hen said, clearly trying to keep a straight face. “Mara started scribbling on napkins—demands and all. And your son,” she added, pointing at Eddie, “suggested they stage a ‘sit-in’ until their demands were met.”

 

Eddie groaned, but he was smiling now. “I swear, he gets that from Buck.”

 

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Buck said, hands raised in mock innocence. “Though, for the record, I fully support their Rights Movement.”

 

“Of course you do,” Hen muttered, grinning.

 

Just then, Karen returned, looking perplexed and slightly amused as she sat down. “Okay, which one of our children just told a woman in the bathroom that she was part of the resistance?”

 

Hen snorted. “That would be Mara. She’s apparently in charge of communications.”

 

“They’ve got roles?” Buck asked, cracking up.

 

Eddie couldn’t help it—he laughed. Really laughed. The kind that started low in his chest and bubbled up until it pulled a surprised huff from his lungs. And it felt good. Briefly, wonderfully good.

 

Karen raised an eyebrow at them all. “Do we need to step in before they take over the entire restaurant?”

 

Hen shrugged. “I mean, they’re fighting for rights. Let them learn early how bureaucracy works.”

 

Buck leaned in, whispering theatrically, “I say we surrender and negotiate for extra game time.”

 

Eddie, still chuckling, leaned back in his seat, eyes flicking toward the kids’ table. Chris was laughing with Denny, napkins covered in scribbles scattered between them. Mara was deep in conversation with a very confused waiter. And something in Eddie eased.

 

Because this… this was the good stuff. The warm, chaotic, ridiculous moments between all the heavy. Surrounded by people who knew him, even when he felt like he’d lost pieces of himself. People who stayed. People who accepted him.

 

"Maybe we should unionize too," Hen said, snagging a fry off Buck’s plate without shame. "Demand more vacation days. And a dog at the firehouse."

 

"Or at least a coffee machine that doesn’t taste like despair," Eddie chimed in.

 

Buck gasped, hand to his chest. "How dare you slander the holy sludge that keeps us alive on 48-hour shifts."

 

Eddie snorted, shaking his head.

 

Just then, Buck’s phone buzzed. Once, twice, then again. He glanced at the screen, eyes catching on the time and the name flashing across it.

 

"Ah, crap—I gotta run," he said, already rising to his feet. He pulled a few bills from his wallet, tossing them onto the table to cover his lunch and a tip.

 

"Where you off to in such a rush?" Hen asked, one brow arching with suspicion.

 

Eddie found himself waiting for the answer too.

 

Buck was grinning at his phone now, tapping out a quick message. "Ravi roped me into helping him get ready for a date. Wants my opinion on his outfit."

 

Karen let out a sharp laugh. "God help him. Make sure he picks the exact opposite of whatever you suggest."

 

Buck shot her a mock-offended look. "Wow. No faith in me at all."

 

"None," she said sweetly.

 

He shook his head, grabbing his jacket. "You people are cruel. I’ll see you later." His eyes lingered on Eddie for just a beat, softening. "Bye, man."

 

"See you," Eddie said, managing a small smile as Buck walked over to say goodbye to the kids.

 

And when Buck laughed at something Christopher said, when he ruffled Denny’s hair and gave Mara a dramatic salute, Eddie just sat there, quiet. Heart aching, but steady. Still breaking, still healing.

 

Still here.

Chapter 16

Notes:

with the ups and downs these guys have i think this is an up lol

Buck was so excited.

 

He’d been buzzing with energy since sunrise, and now, standing in Bobby and Athena’s living room in his third clean shirt of the day—he’d spilled salsa on the last one—he was practically vibrating with anticipation. His phone was in his hand, screen dark, but he checked it every few seconds anyway, like Eddie might suddenly teleport into the foyer if he stared hard enough.

 

Maddie was the one who gently pried the phone from his hand. “Buck, he’ll be here. Stop checking the tracker like you’re some kind of gay holiday elf on a mission.”

 

“Bisexual erasure,” he snorted, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I just want it to be perfect.”

 

She gave him a look, but said, “It already is.” She nodded toward the space around them.

 

And she was right.

 

The living room and garden had been transformed—soft string lights looped across the ceiling and around the banister, borrowed from Chim and Maddie and lovingly tangled before Hen rescued them. There was food everywhere: trays of tacos from Eddie’s favorite spot, chips, salsa, rainbow cupcakes Hen and Karen had made with Denny, and a pitcher of limeade that Athena had aggressively taste-tested until it met her standards.

 

May and Harry were on playlist duty, which meant a lot of Beyoncé and Lizzo—because, according to May, “if we’re celebrating Eddie, we are celebrating.” Even the banner, hand-painted by Ravi, Chris and Denny in bright, uneven letters, read: “We Love You, Eddie!” with a tiny, doodled heart in the corner from Chris.

 

It wasn’t just a party. It was a promise. That he was loved, and he belonged. That the version of himself he was still learning how to be was welcome here—open arms, open hearts, no questions asked.

 

It was just a bummer tía Pepa had gone to El Paso to visit her mother, otherwise at least someone from Eddie’s blood family would also be here. Buck knew how much that would mean to Eddie.

 

And yeah, this idea had started out because Buck had felt guilty. He had been so wrapped up in his hurt and anger, that the whole situation between him and Eddie had overshadowed something beautiful—Eddie’s coming out. So, Buck had started calling people. First Hen. Then Chim and Maddie. Then Athena, who had put him on speakerphone so Bobby could listen in. Then Ravi. And suddenly it turned into something bigger. Something better. They’d earned Eddie. The community had earned him. And Buck wanted Eddie to feel that. To know it in his bones.

 

“Stop pacing,” Chim muttered from the couch, balancing a paper plate full of chips and guac. “You’re going to wear a trench in Bobby’s hardwood.”

 

Buck grinned, nerves thrumming just under his skin. “You think he’ll be surprised?”

 

Ravi looked up from where she was tying a rainbow ribbon around a jar of lemonade. “He’ll probably try to kill you with his eyes. But underneath all that... yeah. He’ll get it.”

 

Hen crossed the room with a rainbow candle in one hand and a taco in the other. “Okay, who put the salsa next to the hand sanitizer again?”

 

“That was me,” Chim said sheepishly, mouth full of chips. “Multitasking!”

 

“Health and safety violations aside,” Bobby added dryly, coming in behind Hen with a tray of grilled corn, “everything’s ready. Now all we need is the guest of honor.”

 

Buck nodded absently, eyes drifting toward the door again. His feet tapped on the floor.

 

“Buck,” Athena said from across the room, arms crossed with affection, “he’s coming. Sit down before you wear a hole in my rug.”

 

He did, kind of. Perched on the arm of the couch, shifting restlessly. “I just… I needed to do this,” he said, voice lower, mostly meant for himself. “He deserved something good. And I didn’t—I didn’t make it easy on him. When he told me, I was so wrapped up in my own mess that I didn’t even see it for what it was. For what it meant.”

 

And this family, the 118, didn’t even know how much it really meant. They hadn’t read the letters, the pieces of Eddie’s heart. How badly Eddie had been treated. How could they have done that do their own son? How could they make him live a lie for decades?

 

“Buck,” Maddie said softly, moving closer. “Eddie knows you. He knows your heart.”

 

“Yeah,” Hen added, settling beside him and offering half her taco. “And your taco-ordering habits. Which, frankly, is just as intimate.”

 

Everyone laughed, even Buck, a quiet huff of breath. But still, the weight didn’t fully leave his chest.

 

“It’s not just about coming out,” he said finally. “It’s the fact that he trusted us. That he let himself be with us. I just wanted him to see that we’re not going anywhere. That we’re his. However he is.”

 

Karen, sipping from a cup of lemonade, chimed in: “Sounds like family to me.”

 

Buck smiled at that. “Yeah. It does.”

 

The room settled for a moment—comfortable, warm, the kind of silence that happens only in the presence of people who really know each other. Found family didn’t mean there was never pain or distance, but it did mean showing up anyway. It meant knowing when someone needed to be celebrated, even if they didn’t ask for it.

 

Jee ran past Buck, and he plucked her off the floor and settled her on his lap, to have something to do.

 

“Look,” she beamed, pointing at the bow in her hair. It was rainbow colored.

 

“Beautiful, Jee,” Buck smiled. “Just like you.”

 

From the kitchen, Athena peeked at the camera feed on her phone. “Okay, they just pulled up.”

 

Chim clapped his hands once, excited. “Places, everyone!”

 

Hen dimmed the lights. Maddie hushed Denny, who was trying to shove one more cupcake into his mouth. May flicked on the playlist, but only the opening chords of something played before Bobby paused it.

 

Everyone went still. Waiting.

 

The doorbell rang.

 

Buck’s chest tightened. His heart thumped in his ears. He saw Athena move toward the door, heard the calm, practiced warmth in her voice when she opened it. “Come on in, you two.”

 

Soft footsteps. Eddie’s voice. “Thanks for having us.”

 

And then—

 

“Surprise!”

 

The lights flared up, voices rose in chorus, and the room exploded in confetti, cheers and music.

 

Chris’s eyes went wide, even though he had known about the surprise. “Whoa!”

 

Eddie froze on the stairs like someone had hit pause mid-step. His mouth opened, then closed again, eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to solve a math problem that had suddenly come to life in glitter and streamers.

 

His gaze swept across the room—from Hen’s proud smile, to Chim holding up a cupcake like a toast, to Maddie clapping with quiet tears in her eyes. And then to Buck, standing just a little apart, hands shoved in his pockets, waiting.

 

Eddie looked overwhelmed. Not in a bad way. In that unmistakable Eddie-Diaz-is-trying-not-to-get-emotional-in-front-of-everyone way.

 

Chris walked down the few steps. “Come on, Dad. Look—there’s tacos!” He wandered off with a quick round of fist bumps for Harry, Denny, Mara, and May, and a ruffle of Jee’s hair, before joining them at the food table.  

 

The others followed, filtering past Eddie one by one. Some gave his shoulder a squeeze as they passed. Others paused for a quick hug or a few whispered words. Each touch was grounding, anchoring him to the moment, to them.

 

Buck slowly approached him, hands still tucked in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. He stopped just in front of Eddie, the faintest, nervous smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Hey,” he said. “This… Well, I thought—or I mean, we thought…” He stumbled over his words, then rolled his eyes at himself. “We just wanted you to know how proud we are. Of you. And how lucky we are to have you. Figured coming out deserves a party. Doesn’t have to be loud or flashy, just... full of people who love you.”

 

Eddie didn’t say anything right away. He just stepped forward. One step, then another, and suddenly he was on Buck, arms wrapping around him with a force that knocked the air from Buck’s lungs. It wasn’t just a hug, it was a collision. A full-body, bone-deep, chest-to-chest crash of emotion.

 

Buck froze for half a second, then melted into it. His arms came around Eddie’s back, holding him just as tightly. The kind of embrace that spoke in a language neither of them had needed to learn—it was just there between them, instinctive and solid.

 

Eddie’s breath brushed against Buck’s ear when he finally whispered, “Thank you.”

 

Buck smiled softly. “Sorry it took almost a month.”

 

“God, no,” Eddie murmured, his voice low and rough. He didn’t pull away, just stayed there, arms wrapped tight around Buck, face tucked into the curve of his neck. Buck felt the quiet tremble of him, the way Eddie swallowed hard. So he didn’t move. Let him stay close. Let him breathe. Let him stay hidden in his neck for a moment longer. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

 

Eddie eventually pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were glassy, but his smile was steady. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, voice still soft, still close.

 

“I did. We did,” Buck said simply. “You deserve this. You deserve so much more.”

 

For a moment, Eddie just looked at him, swallowing. Then he nodded once, slow, like maybe the weight of it was too much to say out loud.

 

Then Chris popped up beside them, a mini taco in one hand and a rainbow cupcake in the other. “Dad,” he grinned, “they have your favorite kind of salsa. The green one that’s super spicy and makes you do the face.”

 

Eddie laughed, the sound breaking through the emotion like sunlight through clouds. “You mean the face you made last time you tried it?”

 

Chris gave him a dramatic eye roll, then offered the cupcake to Buck instead. “You better eat this before Denny comes back. He’s already on a sugar rampage.”

 

Buck took it with a grateful smile. “Thanks, buddy.”

 

As Chris ran off again, Eddie glanced back at Buck. They didn’t say anything more after that. They didn’t need to. Instead, Eddie followed Buck toward the others, past a beaming Athena who offered him a taco like it was a trophy, past Ravi who whispered “welcome to the club” like he was letting Eddie in on some lifelong secret, and past Maddie, who just gave him a quiet, heartfelt squeeze on the arm.

 

The garden looked like a scene out of a movie—string lights casting a golden haze over everything, kids darting between bushes with plastic swords and shrieking laughter, the kind of summer night that made time feel irrelevant. Chris had disappeared with Denny and Harry, sprinting through the garden with Nerf guns and strict, self-imposed rules about which plants they were not allowed to trample. Karen had jokingly deputized them as “Rainbow Security,” complete with pool noodle swords and glittery star stickers, the girls too.

 

Buck stood near the drinks table with a beer in hand, watching it all unfold. It was the kind of chaos he’d grown used to, loved even—the 118 at full volume, their lives stitched together through disaster and family and everything in between. But tonight had a different weight to it.

 

Because he was relaxed. And Eddie was relaxed. Buck could see it in the way his shoulders weren’t hunched anymore, in the soft tilt of his mouth as he watched Chris jog by with Denny and Jee in tow. No tension carved into his jaw. No ghosts in his eyes. Just present.

 

That sight alone made something in Buck’s chest loosen. This all felt like some sort of start of rebuilding their friendship again.

 

Hen was doubled over laughing on one of the lawn chairs, a mojito in one hand, Karen perched beside her with a cupcake that was half frosting. Chim and Maddie had wandered over to the food table, playfully bickering over whether or not Chim had, in fact, eaten four tacos already.

 

“They’re street sized,” Chim said defensively, and Maddie rolled her eyes before popping a chip in his mouth.

 

Athena and Bobby were slow dancing under the patio awning, her arms draped around his shoulders, his chin resting against her hair.

 

Ravi and May were crouched by the speaker system, fussing with the playlist and arguing over which song absolutely had to come next. “You already played ‘Pink Pony Club’!” Ravi protested.

 

“And I will play it again,” May said, wholly unapologetic. “It’s the law.”

 

Buck didn’t realize he was smiling until Eddie moved beside him, drink in hand, close enough for their arms to brush. They looked at their family in silence. A beat dropped over the speakers—pop, bright, annoyingly catchy. Buck recognized it instantly. What he hadn’t expected, however, was for Eddie to hum along.

 

“You know this song?” Buck asked, nudging Eddie’s elbow.

 

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, got it recommended on Spotify.”

 

Buck let out a short laugh. “Never in my life would I have expected you to know who Olivia Rodrigo is.”

 

He turned to catch Eddie’s reaction—and froze. Eddie wasn’t laughing. Instead, he was looking at Buck, really looking, eyes dark and unreadable under the patio lights. Then, quietly, almost too low to hear over the music, he sang: “I only see him as a friend, the biggest lie I ever said.”

 

It hit Buck like a sucker punch. A strange, sudden ache bloomed in his chest, like his heart didn’t know whether to leap or stop. Because yeah, he knew Eddie could sing—had witnessed that firsthand during that unforgettable karaoke night with Maddie years ago—but this? This wasn’t about singing.

 

It was the proximity. The lyrics. The way Eddie held his gaze just a little too long.

 

And Buck didn’t know what to do with that.

 

So he laughed. Too loudly, too quickly. “Okay,” he said, trying to keep it light, “now that was unexpected.”

 

Eddie just kept looking at him, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth like he knew exactly what he was doing.

 

Before Buck could gather his thoughts—or his heart—Jee came bolting past in a blur of pink sparkles, a tiara bouncing on her head. Denny was right behind her, waving a foam sword and yelling something about ‘Queen Chaos’.

 

“Hey!” Buck held out an arm protectively as Jee dove behind him like he was a human shield. “No royal casualties on my watch!”

 

“She stole my sword!” Denny argued, breathless.

 

“'t was on the ground!” Jee shouted.

 

“Careful,” Buck warned the kids as they tumbled past again, “Bobby’s already banned swordfights near the grill after the Great Gnome Decapitation.”

 

“That gnome tripped me!” Denny defended with all the righteousness of a betrayed soldier.

 

“Justice for the gnome!” Hen called out, raising her glass.

 

Buck grinned, but his attention drifted back to Eddie, who hadn’t stopped watching him.

 

The music kept playing. Somewhere in the background, May shouted about restarting Cuff It, and Athena groaned good-naturedly. Bobby handed someone a taco like it was an Olympic medal.

 

“Remember Chim’s bachelor party?” Eddie asked.

 

“Vaguely,” Buck replied, taking a swig of his beer, eyes narrowing with a smirk. “Why, you about to threaten me with karaoke trauma?”

 

Eddie tilted his head, that same slow grin tugging at his lips. “Just wondering if you’ve recovered from your tragic rendition of Shallow.”

 

“Oh, please. You sang both parts when I froze and still got a standing ovation.”

 

Eddie shrugged, faux casual. “What can I say? I commit.” He leaned in, voice low again, just loud enough for Buck to hear over the music. “What, no duet this time?”

 

Buck shot him a sideways look, eyebrow raised. “Not unless you’re gonna bust out the next verse.”

 

Eddie held his gaze, then—without hesitation—sang along under his breath, almost a whisper, “I wanna go higher, can I sit on top of you?”

 

Buck choked on a laugh. “You little shit.”

 

Eddie sipped his drink. “What? Surprised I know my Beyoncé too?”

 

“I’m surprised you're not blushing,” Buck said, watching him closely now, not even pretending to hide the way his eyes tracked the curve of Eddie’s smirk.

 

Eddie shrugged again, feigning innocence. “Why would I blush? Unless you're projecting something.”

 

Buck blinked. Once. Then twice. Because okay. He leaned in just a bit, just enough for the space between them to feel intentional. “Careful, Diaz. You keep talking like that and someone’s gonna think you’re flirting.”

 

Eddie didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared back at him, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he said, low and smooth, “Maybe I am.”

 

Buck’s breath caught. The noise of the party seemed to dip around them, like the world was waiting. He huffed a laugh, trying to shake it off, but his voice came out rougher than he meant. “You’re playing with fire.”

 

Eddie’s smile went sharp at the edges. “Burn me then.”

 

Buck swore he felt it in his chest. The way Eddie said it, like a dare, like a promise. For a second, all he could do was look at him. At the half-crooked grin Eddie wore like armor. At the relaxed tilt of his body, standing there like this wasn’t something earth-shifting. Like Buck hadn’t just felt the ground tilt.

 

“Well,” Buck managed, heat prickling up the back of his neck, “guess we better find a fire extinguisher.”

 

Eddie let out a low chuckle and looked away—but only for a moment. Just long enough to take another sip of his drink. His eyes flicked back, like gravity wouldn’t let them linger anywhere else for too long.

 

“You always this bad at flirting?” Eddie asked, playful, like he wasn’t poking at something raw.

 

Buck snorted. “That wasn’t flirting. That was deflection.”

 

“Hmm,” Eddie hummed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

 

Before Buck could fire back, a sudden shriek of laughter tore through the garden as the kids—now wet from water balloons they’d clearly scavenged from who-knows-where—charged past the adults like tiny chaos demons.

 

“You’re all gonna need baths!” Karen shouted, holding her drink out of the splash zone.

 

Bobby had abandoned the grill to grab a towel. Hen laughed until she snorted. Chim stood with Maddie, arms around her waist, head bent to murmur something into her ear that made her grin.

 

Normalcy returned in a blink. The music shifted again—upbeat and steady—and May managed to reclaim the speaker, finally restarting Cuff It with a triumphant fist in the air. She seemed to learn Ravi some choreography.

 

“Walk with me?” Eddie asked, casual like it meant nothing.

 

Buck nodded, setting his beer down on the table. Eddie didn’t say anything else, just stepped away from the party and waited for Buck to follow. Which he did. Without thinking.

 

The house was quiet in that particular way only the edges of a party could be—music softened by walls, laughter echoing faintly from the backyard, lights casting a warm blur against the kitchen tile. Buck followed Eddie inside, heart thudding in a rhythm that had nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with him.

 

Eddie didn’t look back. He just walked to the counter and leaned against it. Buck lingered on the edge between the kitchen and the hall for a second longer than he meant to, unsure if he was imagining all of it—Eddie’s shift in tone, the invitation in his voice, the way the air between them felt like it might ignite.

 

Then Eddie turned, slow, deliberate, and looked at him like he was the only person that existed.

 

“You okay?” Buck asked.

 

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured. His tone wasn’t hesitant, just quiet, gentler than Buck remembered. “Just needed a break from the noise.”

 

Buck nodded, though it hadn’t really been a question. “Yeah. Me too.”

 

For a moment, neither of them moved. The space between them remained unbreached, close enough to feel, far enough to ache. The memory of what they’d been pressed in around Buck, unspoken but heavy: the tension, the fallout, the silence that had stretched like a fault line between them. And underneath it all, the words Eddie’s mother had said—and worse, what Eddie hadn’t.

 

Buck shifted his weight, trying to find footing. “So, um. You—”

 

The sentence didn’t make it far. Eddie stepped forward and kissed him. It wasn’t rushed. Wasn’t clumsy or chaotic. Just steady. Certain. Like Eddie had decided something and wanted Buck to know it.

 

Buck froze for a breath, caught off-guard, but then he gave in. His hands found Eddie’s hips, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already not wanting to let him go again.

 

And then Eddie pulled back, breath warm against Buck’s lips. His eyes searched Buck’s, suddenly unsure of himself. “Was that okay?”

 

Buck blinked, nodding before the words even reached his mouth. “Yeah. Totally.”

 

His voice came out rougher than expected, like his chest had forgotten how to keep things even. And then—he didn’t wait. He surged forward, closing the space again, kissing Eddie harder this time, no more hesitation, no more tiptoeing around what they both wanted. His hand slid up Eddie’s chest, the other cradling his jaw as he walked him backward until Eddie’s back hit the wall with a quiet thump.

 

Eddie let out a low groan, whether from surprise or something deeper, and Buck pressed in closer, chasing the taste of him—tequila, beer, and heat and something he’d missed too much.

 

He didn’t want to stop. Ever.

 

Eddie’s fingers clenched at his sides. Their kisses turned messy, breathless, heat rolling off them in waves. Buck licked into Eddie mouth, keeping his face exactly where he wanted him, and Eddie whimpered.

 

They broke apart just slightly, breathing harshly.

 

“Maybe we should stop. You’re gonna regret this tomorrow.” Eddie’s voice was barely more than a breath, shaky and urgent.

 

Buck huffed a soft laugh, dropping his forehead against Eddie’s like it might help him stay grounded. “That’s a problem for tomorrow-me.”

 

Eddie made a sound that was half a groan, half a laugh, like Buck had just knocked the wind out of him, and then he was pulling Buck back in. Buck’s thigh pressed deliberately against Eddie’s half-hard cock. Another moan left Eddie’s mouth, muffled by Buck’s tongue.

 

They were in trouble—deep, deep trouble—because yeah, maybe it still hurt in places neither of them knew how to talk about. But right now, it felt good. Right now, it felt like something they couldn’t keep pretending they didn’t want.

 

“Buck,” Eddie whimpered against his mouth again. “Touch me.”

 

Buck didn’t hesitate. He spun Eddie around roughly, claiming his neck with hungry kisses, trailing up to suck on the sensitive lobe of his ear. His hands moved fast and sure, yanking open Eddie’s jeans, slipping beneath the waistband of his underwear. Buck pushed his own hips against Eddie’s, unfortunately still clothed, ass.

 

“Fuck, Buck,” Eddie breathed, breath hitching as one hand reached back to clutch Buck’s neck, fingers tightening with possessive hunger. The other braced against the wall, steadying himself as Buck’s hand wrapped around his hardness, moving with a rough rhythm. Buck just kissed and licked and sucked.

 

The kitchen, the party, the world beyond those walls faded away until it was just the two of them—raw, ragged, and aching to bridge the silence that had stretched between them for too long.

 

Just as Buck’s hand tightened, finally having enough precum to make Eddie’ breath really hitch, their bubble burst.

 

“Buckley!” Athena’s voice exploded, sharp and loud and scandalized. “Not in my kitchen!”

 

Buck and Eddie jerked apart like caught kids caught stealing cookies—Buck blinking, mouth opening, closing, scrambling for words. Eddie’s face was flushed a deep, humiliating red as he immediately turned his back to Athena, cheeks burning hotter than the grill outside.

 

Oh god. Say something. Anything. No, don’t say that. Why is my mouth even moving? Abort!

 

Buck looked from Athena, to Eddie, to something, anything. He fumbled for the faucet like it was a lifeline, suddenly fascinated by how water felt running over his trembling fingers. He finally croaked, “What? I—I just came to… uh… wash my hands.”

 

Athena raised an eyebrow so high it almost touched her hairline, her face just screamed I saw everything. “Yeah, mmhm. Wash them real good before you touch anything in my house.”

 

Buck’s brain short-circuited again: Wash my hands. Right. Like that’s going to fix the fact that I was caught having my hand around Eddie’s cock two feet from her fridge.

 

He looked over at Eddie again, who still stood there. His back was still turned, probably trying to convince Athena he wasn’t that Eddie.

 

Athena smirked as she tossed over her shoulder, “I clean up after parties, not love scenes.” Then, with a pointed glance back, she added, “Save the steamy stuff for the bedroom, boys.”

 

As she left, the only sound was the water running over Buck’s still-trembling hands, and the distant thump of May’s playlist bouncing through the backyard like nothing mortifying had just happened inside.

 

Buck blinked down at the sink. “Cool. Yeah. Just gonna… scrub the shame off real quick.”

 

Eddie made a strangled sound but didn’t move. His shoulders were rigid, ears so red they might’ve been glowing.

 

Buck risked a glance over. “You okay?”

 

Eddie slowly turned his head. His eyes were wide, mortified, and also—somehow—still glassy with leftover arousal. “I think I blacked out for a second.”

 

Buck wiped his wet hands on a towel with far more intensity than necessary. “You and me both, buddy.”

 

Eddie groaned and dropped his forehead against the fridge with a thunk. “She definitely saw everything.”

 

“Yeah,” Buck muttered. “Pretty sure we’re gonna be a cautionary tale now. Like, ‘remember that time Buck defiled Eddie in the kitchen?’”

 

Eddie let out a low, dying noise. “Please stop talking.”

 

“I can’t,” Buck whispered. “My mouth’s just… doing things. I think it’s the trauma.” He looked at him, eyes wide. “God, what if she tells Bobby?”

 

Eddie tilted his head just enough to glare at him. “She’s definitely telling Bobby.”

 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

 

“He cannot know.” Buck made a face of pure despair. “He’s gonna add a ‘No Touching’ rule to barbecues. We’re gonna be the reason behind a policy.”

 

Eddie groaned again, dragging his hand down his face. “Can we just agree this never happened?”

 

Buck raised an eyebrow. “You mean the hand stuff or the part where Athena caught us mid–hand stuff?”

 

Eddie gave him a withering look. “Yes.”

 

“Alright,” Buck sighed dramatically, tossing the towel onto the counter like it had personally offended him. “Let’s go rejoin the party and pretend we’re normal.”

 

Eddie gave him a look. “You go first.” He closed his jeans and tried to fix the collar of his shirt.

 

“Oh, right,” Buck muttered. “Send the sacrificial lamb.” But he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath like he was about to walk into a fire, and opened the back door.

 

Music and laughter hit him in the face like a wave. There was May by the grill, Hen chatting with Chim, Bobby sipping lemonade with his dad-mode radar probably already pinging. Maddie, Ravi, and Karen were playing with the kids.

 

Everything looked infuriatingly... wholesome.

 

Buck slipped out with Eddie right behind him, trying to slide into the party like they hadn’t just been caught mid-groping like horny teenagers. They nodded at people. Smiled. Buck even gave Bobby a two-finger salute like he was in the damn army.

 

“Smooth,” Eddie muttered behind him.

 

They were almost in the clear. Almost. And then—

 

“A word, Buckley?” Athena’s voice came from behind him like the slow click of a safety being switched off.

 

Buck froze.

 

Eddie, traitor that he was, immediately turned and melted into a conversation with Hen and Chim like he hadn’t just been threatening to black out from humiliation.

 

Buck turned around slowly, hands tucked in his pockets like that might make him look more innocent. “Hey, Athena. Lovely weather, huh?” he tried, tone too chipper, smile too wide.

 

Athena stared at him over the rim of her drink. “Buck. You ever been shot at?”

 

He blinked. “Yes?”

 

“You ever run into a burning building?”

 

“Also yes?”

 

“You ever been more terrified than five minutes ago?”

 

Buck stared at her. “Not even a little.”

 

She gave him a dry, knowing smile. “Good. That’s called shame. Keep it. Let it teach you.”

 

He nodded solemnly. “It’s teaching me so much.”

 

Athena leaned in, her voice low. “Evan. In my kitchen?”

 

“I panicked!” he whisper-yelled. “Eddie touched me first!”

 

Athena arched a perfectly unimpressed brow. “You were two seconds away from buttering his biscuit on my granite countertop.”

 

Buck's soul briefly left his body.

 

“I just—” He looked around like someone might come rescue him. “I wasn’t thinking. I—I swear we don’t normally—”

 

She cut him off with a hand. “Save it. I’ve raised two kids. I’ve worked homicide. I’ve heard everything. What I don’t want is to feel everything while reaching for my damn kettle.”

 

Buck cringed. “Totally fair.”

 

Athena took a slow sip of her drink. “This is a family barbecue, Buckley. Not ‘Fifty Shades of Diaz.’ You got urges, take them elsewhere.”

 

“Understood,” Buck whispered.

 

“Great. Now go get yourself a plate. And maybe a fan. You’re still flushed.”

 

Buck practically saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” He shuffled away, finding Eddie near the drink table.

 

He raised a single eyebrow at him. “She threaten to tase you?”

 

“She might’ve actually gone easy on me,” Buck replied, grabbing a beer with the shaky hands of a man who’d just narrowly escaped death.

 

“Wow,” Eddie deadpanned. “Truly heartwarming.”

 

Buck looked at him. “So, same time next barbecue?”

 

Eddie shoved a chip in his mouth and refused to dignify that with an answer.

Chapter 17

Eddie could still feel Buck’s hand wrapped around his cock. His mouth at his neck. The groans against his skin. The whispers in his ear.

 

He huffed and flopped onto his other side, burying his face in his pillow like it might smother the memory.

 

God. What had he been thinking asking Buck to walk with him?

 

He was not going to jerk off. Not after Athena had seen him practically melt in Buck’s arms like he’d wanted to be railed against the countertops of her very well-lit kitchen.

 

But— Buck had kissed him back. Had touched him too. Had pressed in, breathless, like he wanted it just as badly.

 

Eddie let out a low, strangled sound.

 

Oh, this was terrible!

 

He rubbed his face with both hands like he could scrub away the thoughts crawling across his skin. Then froze. His hand was moving on its own. Sliding lower. And, of course, he’d gone to bed naked—not because he’d planned to jerk off, obviously not, who could after a day like that? No. It was just hot.

 

Hot. Right.

 

“Fuck,” he whispered, as his fingers skimmed over the already aching head of his cock.

 

Oh, screw it.

 

He reached for the lube like a man possessed, and within seconds his fist was wrapped tight around his cock, slick and needy. His hips immediately jerked, chasing the pressure. Buck’s voice echoed in his mind, low and rough in his ear, “God, you’re so hot like this, Eds.”

 

Eddie bit down on his bottom lip, eyes fluttering closed. He was screwed. So completely and utterly screwed—and not even in the fun way. But hell if he could stop now.

 

His hand moved faster, slick and sure and relentless, as his thoughts spiraled.

 

What if Athena hadn’t walked in?

 

What if Buck had kept going, had whispered “I’ve got you” in that rough, broken voice, while stroking him tighter, slower, until Eddie was falling apart in his arms?

 

He could still feel it. Buck’s chest against his back, hips pressed to his ass, hot breath ghosting over his ear, the way he’d sucked a mark into his neck like he hadn’t meant to stop. Like he didn’t want to stop.

 

Eddie groaned, biting back a whimper.

 

In his mind, Buck kissed down his spine next, shoved his jeans and boxers down his thighs in one smooth move. He’d press him forward against the fridge with firm hands and a low, “You sure?” against the back of his neck.

 

And in this version—this perfect, filthy version—Eddie wouldn’t say yes. He’d whimper it.

 

Buck would’ve been so good to him. Hands everywhere, hot and demanding. Maybe he’d have dropped to his knees behind him, licking a stripe along his spine, biting just above his ass as Eddie shivered and pressed back, desperate for more.

 

“Jesus,” Eddie whispered aloud, his hand moving faster, hips canting up into the pressure.

 

In his head, Buck already lined up behind him, fingers spreading him open, whispering “Gonna make you feel so good, baby” like he’d done it a hundred times before.

 

Eddie gasped, breath catching hard.

 

And then Buck pushed inside, slow, steady, deep, until Eddie couldn’t think anymore. Until he braced against the counter, moaning, open and full and shaking.

 

Until all he could do was feel. Feel Buck fuck him into oblivion.

 

“Buck,” Eddie choked, and his whole body jerked as he came, spilling hot into his hand with a hoarse cry that he immediately tried to smother into the pillow.

 

The room was silent afterward—except for his ragged breathing and the hum of the fan overhead. Eddie lay there, dazed and spent and still somehow aching. He reached for a tissue with a groan, dragging it over his stomach before collapsing again.

 

So, yeah. He was officially losing his mind. Fantasizing about his best friend. After getting caught by their other friend. In her kitchen. His boss’ kitchen.

 

He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

 

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I need help.”

 

*

 

And Buck kept true to his promise—pretending the whole Kitchen Fiasco™ had never happened. Like it had just been another party at Bobby and Athena’s. Like they hadn’t kissed. Like he hadn’t had his hand down Eddie’s pants.

 

Eddie tried to do the same. Really, he did. He smiled, he joked, he acted normal—at least, he hoped he did. But inside? He felt like a teenager all over again. No, worse—like puberty had hit him for the first time at full force and with a personal vendetta.

 

Because now he couldn’t stop thinking about Buck. Again.

 

Not just thinking. Obsessing. Craving. He was horny all the damn time, walking around half-hard and short-circuiting at every stupid little thing. Buck’s laugh, the way he leaned against doorframes, how his sleeves fit just right around his arms. Did he wear those shirts on purpose?—they were too damn small.

 

And the worst part?

 

He knew now how it felt to have Buck inside him. The last time he had been this turned on by Buck had just been fantasies, and some memories, a hand around his cock, a kiss, getting spanked. But this… this was the real deal.

 

And Eddie just wanted to poke out his own damn eyes. Because seriously—how was it normal to not be able to look at Buck without his brain short-circuiting? Without staring at his curls, his birthmark, his stupid perfect laugh. His eyes. His neck. His arms. His chest. His stomach. His ass. His thighs.

 

What would it feel like to be the one to fuck Buck? To be the one hitting that delicious spot inside him. To have him panting, cursing, begging underneath him.

 

Oh. Shit.

 

Buck and Ravi were on the couch, controllers in hand, locked in a brutal round of Mario Kart. Buck was trash-talking, laughing, body slouched low with his legs sprawled out. Like he wasn’t responsible for breaking Eddie’s brain a few nights ago.

 

Eddie sat on the other couch, completely useless, a half-read book in his lap. He hadn’t turned a page in twenty minutes.

 

He was just… staring.

 

At Buck.

 

At the way his stupid curls bounced when he laughed. At the way his forearms flexed around the controller. At the way his T-shirt rode up just a little, revealing the barest sliver of skin above the waistband of his workpants.

 

What would it feel like to pull those pants off right here? Right now? To drop to his knees between Buck’s thighs while he kept playing, pretending he wasn’t completely unraveling under Eddie’s mouth—

 

“Jesus,” Eddie mouthed to himself, sitting up straighter and pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

He was at work.

 

He was at work, horny, and losing his goddamn mind.

 

The scent of garlic and onions wafted over from the kitchen. Bobby was at the stove, humming, completely oblivious to Eddie’s meltdown. Ravi let out a triumphant whoop. Buck shouted something about red shells being illegal. Eddie stared harder. Why was everything Buck did attractive? Even losing at Mario Kart?

 

The couch cushions shifted.

 

Hen dropped down beside him with a huff and a cup of coffee. “Still not fair,” she hummed to Chim.

 

He followed, flopping onto Eddie’s other side with a suspicious squint at his best friend. Then he focused on Eddie. “Are you sick?”

 

Eddie looked at him, ignoring how it took everything inside himself to tear his eyes away from Buck. “What?”

 

Chim leaned in. “You’re sweating, dude.”

 

“I am not—”

 

Buck shouted, “Hey, Eds! Wanna take over for me? Ravi’s cheating.”

 

“I’m not cheating,” Ravi called, smug.

 

Buck grinned like sunshine. Like sin. Like a walking fucking wet dream. “Come on. Save my dignity. Partner responsibilities, and all that.”

 

Eddie stared at him.

 

Hen followed his gaze. Then she looked back at Eddie. And she grinned.

 

“Oh,” she said, like everything suddenly made sense.

 

Chim raised an eyebrow. “What? What ‘oh’?”

 

Hen bumped Eddie’s knee with hers. “Nothing,” she replied sweetly.

 

Chim still looked confused. Eddie probably looked like he wanted to dig a hole under the couch and live in it.

 

“Okay,” Hen said, rising to her feet, her tone all innocence. “I’ll go help Bobby before he adds raisins to something again.” As she walked away, she added under her breath, “Poor baby’s been ruined.”

 

Chim glanced between her retreating back and Eddie’s bright-red face. “…Wait, what did I miss?”

 

Buck paused his game and turned around with a confused smile. “What’s going on?”

 

Eddie clenched his book so hard the spine cracked. “Nothing is going on.”

 

Buck blinked. “Okay…”

 

Eddie was not going to survive this shift if he stayed here any longer. With a sudden, desperate motion, he stood up and headed downstairs, pacing back and forth in the locker room, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

 

Hen followed a few steps behind and slipped inside the locker room, catching his eye with a knowing look.

 

“I’m going insane,” Eddie admitted, running a hand through his hair.

 

Hen settled onto the bench with a calm sigh. “I know.”

 

“You know?” Eddie stopped pacing, eyes wide.

 

“Yeah,” she said, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the world. “I used to call it ‘gay puberty’.”

 

Eddie blinked. “Gay puberty?”

 

“It’s like regular puberty, but with extra feelings and way less warning.” Hen smiled softly. “And yeah, it’s worse than normal puberty.”

 

Eddie blurted “Have you, hypothetically, ever found someone’s shins sexy?”

 

Hen burst out laughing, then quickly covered her mouth. “Damn, Eddie,” she teased, voice low. “He’s got you good.” She leaned forward, her tone turning gentle. “I remember the first time I was with Karen. I couldn’t stand being too far away from her. Just thinking about her made my stomach flip. It’s like your brain and your body are fighting for control, like everything’s happening at once, and you don’t know where to put yourself.”

 

Eddie nodded, beginning to pace again, restless. “That’s me. Every time I look at Buck, it’s like my brain just… shorts out.”

 

Hen chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, it’s normal. That whole ‘holy crap, this person’s amazing and I want to touch every inch of them’ kind of feeling. It’s like puberty but on crack.”

 

Eddie groaned, rubbing his face. “More like, ‘holy crap, I want to rip his clothes off and then run away screaming’.”

 

Hen grinned knowingly. “So… you and Buck, huh?”

 

Eddie shook his head, even though there was no use denying it, pacing faster. “How did you get through it?”

 

Hen shrugged, thoughtful. “You don’t, really. You just learn to live with the chaos. It’s messy and exhausting and sometimes overwhelming. Pretty much like any relationship, gay or straight. But eventually, you find someone who’s just as crazy about you as you are about them. That helps.”

 

Eddie let out a bitter laugh, sinking down onto the bench beside her. “Yeah, well, right now I’m pretty sure Buck thinks I’m some kind of lunatic.”

 

Hen nudged him gently with her shoulder. “He might think that, but the fact he’s still around? That means something. People don’t stick around if they don’t care, even a little. And Buck is a keeper, you had to see him stress out before your party.”

 

Eddie sighed. “I don’t even know what I want right now. One minute I’m terrified he thinks I’m insane. The next, I’m dreaming about what it would be like if he actually wanted me back.”

 

Hen gave him a soft smile. “That’s the worst and best part, all those confusing feelings. You don’t have to figure it out tonight. Just... don’t beat yourself up over it. Let yourself feel it.”

 

Eddie looked over at her, grateful. “It’s just so frustrating. We’re always joking, messing around, and then something happens and suddenly I feel like a complete mess.”

 

Hen leaned back, thoughtful. “Maybe you’re just human. Maybe everyone’s just pretending they have it together. You’re not alone in this.”

 

Eddie nodded slowly, letting her words sink in. “Thanks, Hen. I needed that.”

 

Hen grinned wickedly and poked him in the ribs. “Aw, poor Eddie. You’re like a love-struck puppy with a serious case of Buck fever. Should I get you a chew toy?”

 

Eddie snorted despite himself. “Yeah, laugh it up.”

 

“No, really,” she said, eyes sparkling. “You’re here, pacing like a nervous wreck, staring at Buck like he’s some kind of Greek god—and probably drooling a little too. It’s adorable. Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t written sonnets about his shins.”

 

Eddie gave her a mock glare. “Hey! Those legs deserve a poem.”

 

Hen burst out laughing. “You’re hopeless. But I swear, if you start ‘accidentally’ brushing up against Buck in the kitchen, I’m stepping in to rescue the poor man.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, well… maybe he needs rescuing.”

 

Hen leaned in, lowering her voice to a mock whisper. “Just promise me you won’t serenade him by the stove. Athena might still be recovering from the last kitchen incident.”

 

Eddie eyes went wide, his heart dropped. “She told you?”

 

Hen bit her lip to stop herself from grinning too wide. “Nope,” she replied casually. “But thanks for confirming something definitely happened. Not all of us are blind, Eddie. Or oblivious like the rest of those men upstairs.” She nodded upstairs. “Men are pretty stupid in general.”

 

“Nothing happened!” he blurted, a little too fast, a little too defensive.

 

Hen snorted, raising her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Please. That sounded less like denial and more like damage control. And if it was just a kiss, you wouldn’t be glowing like a tomato on fire.”

 

Eddie groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. His ears burned, and he could feel the heat crawling down his neck. “Why do I talk to you?”

 

“Because I’m delightful,” she said sweetly. Then, narrowing her eyes like a cat who just spotted a canary: “Wait a second. Oh my God… don’t tell me—”

 

“What?”

 

“You didn’t.” Her voice dropped to a whisper-shout. “Tell me you did not have sex with Buck in Bobby and ‘Thena’s kitchen.”

 

Eddie flinched, just barely, but it was enough.

 

Hen’s mouth dropped open. “You did? Jesus, Eddie!”

 

“No!” he whisper-yelled, eyes darting toward the stairs through the glass walls. “We didn’t have sex.”

 

Hen stared at him for a beat, then narrowed her eyes again. “Define sex.”

 

“Hen.”

 

She pointed a finger at him dramatically. “Was there nudity involved?”

 

“I’m not answering that.”

 

“Did bodily fluids happen?”

 

“Hen!”

 

She cackled, falling back against the locker bench. “Oh my God, you’re worse than I thought.”

 

Eddie folded his arms, trying to glare at her, but it lacked conviction. “This is why no one confesses anything to you.”

 

“This is why you don’t confess anything to me. Everyone else knows I’m a vault.” She tapped her temple, before motioning at him. “But I’m also psychic. And this—this is giving full disaster gay energy.”

 

Eddie groaned again. “I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

 

Hen smiled sweetly and stood up, patting his shoulder. “Nope. But hey—look on the bright side. At least now I know I’ve got front-row seats to the hottest drama in the firehouse.”

 

Before Eddie could respond, Buck’s cheerful voice floated down the stairs. “Hey, guys! Dinner’s ready!”

 

Hen smirked. “Speaking of drama… come on, Casanova. Let’s go make awkward eye contact over lasagna.”

 

Eddie sighed and followed her out. “You are so annoying.”

 

“And you,” she said, tossing a wink over her shoulder, “are so obviously in love.”

 

*

 

Buck: hi have i done something that’s felt off lately?

 

Eddie looked up from his phone at Buck, the text catching him off guard. They were sitting across from each other in the truck, just pulling away from the scene. The sirens were off, the team quiet for a moment, recovering from the call.

 

Eddie: Uh, no?

 

Eddie: Are you okay?

 

Buck didn’t meet his eyes. He glanced down at his phone, fingers tapping out a reply.

 

Buck: yeah sure

 

Buck: its part of the cbt with frank

 

Buck: just checkin in

 

Buck: i just kinda felt like u were pullin away from me tbh

 

Eddie exhaled. This was good. This was really good. Buck was talking to him—openly, vulnerably. He was sharing the stuff that usually got buried under jokes or distractions. God, yes.

 

Eddie: Nope! Just in my head a bit ever since the Kitchen Fiasco™.

 

Buck: ah sorry

 

Eddie: What are you sorry about?

 

There was a beat. Then Buck responded.

 

Buck: for assuming

 

Buck: for making it about me again

 

Eddie’s thumbs hovered over his screen. That hit hard. He looked up at Buck, who was still watching the passing street through the window like it might hold all the answers. Eddie swallowed, heart tight in his chest. Because yeah… Buck wasn’t wrong. Eddie had said that to him before, more than once, over the years. That he was exhausting. That he made everything about himself. And it hadn’t been fair. None of it had been fair.

 

Back then, Eddie hadn’t understood what he was feeling. He hadn’t known why Buck’s every movement, every smile, every touch threw him off balance. So things had slipped out, mean, defensive things, because it was easier than facing the truth.

 

Eddie: Nah man, not at all! We’re good. Actually… really glad you’re sharing this with me. Keep doing that, so I can get you out of your own head sometimes too.

 

Buck’s reply came quickly.

 

Buck: :D <3

 

Eddie let out a soft laugh and tucked his phone away, a warm buzz settling in his chest. When he glanced up, Hen was watching him with one brow arched, amusement dancing in her eyes. She shot him a knowing grin, and Eddie felt his face flush instantly.

 

She turned back toward the window, like she hadn’t just caught him mid-heart-eyes. Eddie shook his head to himself, but couldn’t help the small, completely ridiculous smile that tugged at his lips—because yeah, he was a little ridiculous. And he didn’t even care.

 

Almost an hour later, Buck settled onto the couch beside Eddie, their shoulders barely brushing. They were alone at the firehouse’s loft. “I started to scene so I couldn’t get my heart broken,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on the floor in front of them.

 

Eddie blinked, caught off guard by the sudden honesty. He turned his head, studying Buck's profile. But Buck was opening up again, and Eddie wasn’t about to stop him. Therapy really was a good look on him. So, he hummed gently, a wordless nudge for Buck to keep going.

 

Buck exhaled slowly, still not looking at him. “Scening meant I was in control of what happened, you know? I set the boundaries. I decided when it started, how far it went, and when it ended. Well, of course, in consultation with the sub. But it made everything feel…safe.” He finally glanced at Eddie. “We both knew the scene would end eventually. We’d part ways. No messy emotions. No getting attached. No one left behind.”

 

Eddie’s heart clenched at the last part. No one left behind. It sounded so much like Buck—this need to control pain, to avoid abandonment.

 

“Sounds lonely,” Eddie said softly.

 

Buck nodded, gaze distant. “It was. It is. But it felt safer than wanting something real and not getting it.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment, the low hum of the firehouse in the background. Eddie’s mind raced with things he could say—apologies, confessions, maybe even an admission or two—but nothing felt quite right. So instead, he leaned slightly closer.

 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he murmured.

 

“Didn’t think I could say it out loud until now,” Buck smiled faintly, a little crooked and tired. “Frank will be proud,” he joked.

 

“I’m proud of you.” Then, Eddie hesitated, before asking gently, “Do you still want that kind of control?”

 

Buck shook his head slowly. “Not really. Don’t get me wrong, I love scening, but… Don’t know… I think I just want something that doesn’t feel like I have to brace for impact all the time.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard. His voice was rough when he spoke. “You don’t have to brace with me.”

 

Buck froze.

 

For a second, Eddie thought maybe he hadn’t heard him. But then Buck gave a small, unreadable smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I appreciate that,” he said quietly, before shifting on the couch to put a little more space between them. “Therapy’s good. I just… I’m not there yet. I want to be. But it’s not that easy.”

 

Eddie nodded slowly, doing his best to hide the sting in his chest. “Yeah. I get it.”

 

Buck looked away again, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “I think… after everything, I need to figure out what I actually want before I go looking for it in someone else.”

 

That hit harder than Eddie expected, but he knew Buck wasn’t trying to hurt him. This was Buck being honest. Careful. Trying not to make promises he couldn’t keep. This wasn’t even about Eddie. Period.

 

“That’s fair,” Eddie said, voice low. “I just—I’m here, okay?”

 

Buck’s jaw flexed, and for a moment Eddie thought he saw something crack through the mask—a flicker of guilt, or longing, or both. But maybe that was just his delusion.

 

“I know you are,” Buck whispered. “And that’s the hardest part.” He stood up then, suddenly needing to move. “I’m gonna go grab a bottle of water,” he said, like it was nothing, like his entire heart hadn’t just spilled out onto the couch cushion between them.

 

Eddie watched him walk away, chest heavy. He hadn’t expected things to magically resolve. But a small, foolish part of him had hoped.

 

Still, Buck had opened up. That had to count for something. Maybe, for tonight, that was enough.

 

Eddie took a slow breath, steadying himself. He’d made a promise—to Buck, to himself. He wasn’t going to hide how he felt. No more waiting in the shadows. He was going to be loud. He was going to be proud. Even if Buck wasn’t ready yet.

Chapter 18

Notes:

anyone notice what i just did there? (·ω·)

Buck looked up from his phone the moment Frank’s office door creaked open. Eddie stepped out, and Buck scrambled to his feet, almost tripping in the process.

 

“Uh… hey,” he mumbled, trying to play it cool as he brushed off the stumble.

 

Eddie blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before a familiar crooked smile settled in. “Oh, hey, Buck.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

 

Buck’s heart was doing that stupid fluttering thing again. He forced his voice into something casual. “How’d it go?”

 

Eddie let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, good. Just spent the past hour talking about you.”

 

That made his brows lift. “About me?”

 

“Yep.”

 

Buck scratched the side of his neck, suddenly aware of how warm the hallway felt. “Well… guess it’s only fair. I’m probably about to talk for an hour about you.”

 

Eddie snorted. “You think Frank’s sick of us yet?”

 

“Oh, definitely,” Buck replied with a grin. “He’s probably drafting his own obituary now that he knows I’m next.”

 

“Wouldn’t blame him,” Eddie chuckled. “He said to send the next one in.”

 

Buck reached for the doorhandle, ready to knock and head in—but Eddie’s voice caught him mid-motion. “Hey, um, what are you doing after this?”

 

Buck turned toward him, curiosity stirring in his chest. Eddie looked unsure, so he just shrugged. “Nothing planned.”

 

“Maybe we…” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, gaze flicking briefly away. “Wanna come over for dinner?”

 

Buck's grin returned, a little mischievous this time. “Sure. What are you cooking, chef?”

 

Eddie looked vaguely panicked, eyes wide like he hadn’t thought that far ahead.. “Well… I…”

 

Buck laughed, the sound easing the tension in the air. “Don’t worry, I’ll pick up groceries. How does salmon sound?”

 

Eddie groaned in exaggerated delight. “Only if you’re making that lemon dill sauce.”

 

“You know I am,” Buck said with a wink. “I’ll text you when I’m done here.”

 

Eddie nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Have a good session.”

 

“I will.” Buck gave him a quick smile before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

 

“I’d love to have some salmon in lemon dill sauce as well,” Frank said, turning his wheelchair around to face Buck’s usual spot on the couch.

 

Buck laughed as he dropped in his usual place. “Nice to see you too, Frank.”

 

He gave Buck a moment to settle before turning his wheelchair more fully toward him. “You’re in a good mood.”

 

Buck shrugged, unable to hide a small smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

Frank nodded. “We’ll take it. Before we check in, quick update on next week. We’re going to start EMDR.”

 

Buck leaned back slightly, the term familiar but still vague. “Right. You mentioned it before… that’s the eye movement thing?”

 

“Among other things,” Frank said. “We use bilateral stimulation, like eye movements or tapping, while you focus on a specific memory. The idea is to help your brain reprocess what got stuck. It can be uncomfortable in the moment, but over time, it usually makes the distress fade.”

 

Buck nodded slowly. “Sounds… intense.”

 

“It can be,” Frank said evenly. “I tell most clients to come in for EMDR on their days off. But we’ll go at your pace. You’re not going to dive in blind. We’ll prep for it. You’ll know exactly which memory we’re working with when we start. Okay?”

 

“Okay,” Buck echoed, tapping his fingers against his thigh a few times before stilling them.

 

Frank glanced down at his notes, then looked back up. “So. How have you been doing since last week?”

 

Buck considered it for a moment. “Actually… pretty okay.”

 

Frank’s brow lifted slightly, inviting more.

 

“I mean, I’m not saying everything’s perfect,” Buck added quickly, “but I’ve been trying the stuff we talked about. Some of the tools you gave me a few sessions ago.”

 

“Good. Can you give me an example?”

 

Buck nodded, a little tentative. “Yeah. So… the other day, I was with Eddie—just hanging out in between calls, nothing big. And I caught myself starting to pull away. Like, emotionally. It’s this thing I do when I start to overthink what I’m feeling. Or what he might be feeling.”

 

Frank gave a small, understanding hum.

 

“So instead, I tried Opposite Action. You know—act opposite to the urge.”

 

Frank smiled just faintly. “You remembered.”

 

Buck let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I did. I wanted to shut down, but I didn’t. I… leaned in, actually. Told him something nice. Simple stuff—like, that I liked hanging out with him. That kind of thing.”

 

“And how did that go?”

 

Buck shrugged again, but there was a flicker of pride in his voice. “He smiled. Like, really smiled. It felt good. And… honest.”

 

Frank nodded, noting that down. “That’s a big moment, Buck.”

 

“Yeah,” Buck said, a little softer now. “It was.”

 

Frank waited a beat. “You mentioned other tools?”

 

Buck shifted in his seat. “Right. I’ve also been doing some Emotional Check-Ins. Just… short ones. With Eddie, mostly.”

 

“Tell me more.”

 

Buck rubbed his palms against his jeans, eyes flicking to the window before returning to Frank. “I sent him a couple texts. Like, ‘Feeling off today, just wanted to say it’, or ‘Feeling weird after that call, you good?’. Stuff like that. And sometimes I just said it out loud if we were alone.”

 

“Was that new for the two of you?”

 

“Yeah.” Buck’s mouth quirked. “Very. I mean… we talk, but not like that. Not about feelings. Not really.”

 

“And how did that feel for you?”

 

Buck let out a slow breath. “Weird, at first. And I was kinda nervous I guess.”

 

Frank tilted his head slightly. “What were you nervous about?”

 

“I don’t know.” Buck paused. “I guess I was scared he’d think it was… weird. Or too much. Or maybe I picked the wrong moments. Like, if we were on shift and the others were around, I’d just text instead of saying something out loud.”

 

Frank nodded. “So you were managing both the impulse to check in and the environment.”

 

“Yeah,” Buck said. “It was kind of a tightrope.”

 

“And did Eddie respond?”

 

Buck smiled again, this time smaller, more personal. “Yeah. Every time.”

 

Frank allowed a moment of silence, then leaned in just a little. “That’s good work, Buck. You’re practicing vulnerability in small, safe ways. That’s what this is about.”

 

Buck nodded, feeling the warmth of that fact somewhere deep in his chest.

 

Frank tapped his pen lightly against his notepad. “Alright. Homework.”

 

Buck groaned, mock dramatic. “Of course.”

 

Frank smiled mildly. “Try using one of the tools—Opposite Action, Emotional Check-In, whatever feels accessible—but this time, not when you’re around Eddie.”

 

Buck blinked. “What, like… with Hen? Or Chim?”

 

“If that feels doable, sure,” Frank said. “But it doesn’t have to be another person. It can be something as simple as checking in with yourself. Writing something down. Noticing an urge and choosing something opposite. The point is practicing these skills outside the most comfortable dynamic.”

 

Buck leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “That… makes sense.”

 

“It’s about flexibility,” Frank said. “You’re building a foundation. Eddie’s one safe space. Now we expand that.”

 

Buck exhaled slowly, nodding again. “Okay. Yeah. I can try that.”

 

“Remember, I don’t need perfect,” Frank said, his tone kind but firm. “Just effort.”

 

“You’ll get effort,” Buck promised.

 

Frank’s gaze was steady. “I know I will.”

 

*

 

The smell of garlic and lemon filled the Diaz kitchen, warm and comforting, as Buck flipped the salmon fillets with practiced ease. The sizzle was satisfying, the skin crisping just right. Behind him, there was a series of clatters, a cabinet door thudding shut.

 

Buck didn’t even have to turn around. “It’s in the top left drawer, Eddie.”

 

“I knew that,” Eddie said defensively, immediately finding the right knife. “I was just seeing if you knew.”

 

Chris, perched at the kitchen island with a pile of forks and a very serious napkin-folding operation, snorted. “Sure, Dad.”

 

Buck grinned. “Classic cover-up.”

 

Eddie muttered something under his breath that suspiciously sounded like traitors as he started cutting the parsley. Buck glanced over his shoulder and stage-whispered to Chris, “Ten bucks says he cuts his thumb before he finishes.”

 

Chris grinned wide. “You're on. He’s already holding it wrong.”

 

“I’m right here, you know,” Eddie called, but Buck could hear the laugh tucked beneath the exasperation.

 

“That’s not gonna help you,” Buck said. “We’re a team now.” He bumped fists with Chris, who held his hand up proudly.

 

“I always wanted to be part of a secret mission,” Chris said, eyes sparkling.

 

Buck leaned closer. “Mission: Save Dinner From Dad.”

 

“Wow,” Eddie said, cutting with a little more flair than necessary. “You two are just… ruthless.”

 

“We prefer effective,” Buck replied, dropping a pinch of salt into the pan. “Besides, someone has to make sure this dinner doesn’t turn into a ‘Diaz family emergency’.”

 

Chris gasped dramatically. “Remember the spaghetti incident?”

 

“Oh god,” Buck said, feigning a shudder. “May it rest in peace.”

 

Eddie shot them both a look, equal parts amused and betrayed. “That was one time. And you were the one who left me unsupervised with the pasta.”

 

“Exactly!” Buck turned to Chris. “See? He admits it. You heard that.”

 

“Loud and clear,” Chris confirmed, delight radiating off him.

 

Buck grinned and stirred the sauce, letting the gentle banter warm something deeper in his chest. It felt… good. Easy. The kind of quiet, domestic rhythm he didn’t realize he’d missed until he was in the middle of it.

 

They moved around each other like they’d done a hundred times before. Shared meals, shared chores, shared job. It wasn’t new. But it hadn’t felt like this in a while. Like friendship rediscovered and gently mended at the seams.

 

Buck felt the corners of his mouth lift. This. This was good.

 

He plated the salmon and roasted potatoes, pouring the creamy lemon dill sauce in careful zigzags, then reached for the parsley and sprinkled it on top.

 

“Dinner is served, gentlemen,” he announced with a flourish.

 

“Fancy and dramatic,” Eddie said, but there was no bite in it, just affection.

 

Chris grinned wide. “Smells amazing.”

 

They sat down together at the table, Buck handing out the plates. Chris dug in eagerly, and Eddie let out a low, appreciative hum after his first bite.

 

Buck didn’t sit right away. He stood there for a moment, watching them. Watching Eddie laugh at something Chris said. Watching Chris reach over and steal a potato from his dad’s plate like it was nothing.

 

It was so normal. So whole.

 

And Buck felt good. Not perfect. But grounded. Therapy was helping. He was sleeping better. He wasn’t second-guessing every moment. He could breathe in a way he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. He could just stand here and sit at the table everything had gone horribly wrong, without puking his guts out.

 

Things were getting better.

 

But… there was also this quiet ache. Not loud enough to hurt. Not anymore. Just a small, familiar tug behind the ribs when he looked at Eddie too long. When he let himself imagine what this could feel like if—

 

“Buck?” Chris’s voice pulled him back. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

 

Buck blinked and smiled, sliding into his seat. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, bud.”

 

Hours had passed in that easy, unhurried way they sometimes did in the Diaz household. Dinner had been a hit—Chris had declared Buck’s lemon dill sauce “legendary”, and Eddie hadn’t argued, even when Buck gloated. They’d cleaned up together afterward, elbows bumping at the sink, trading lazy grins as they argued over the “right” way to stack plates.

 

Ice cream followed, Chris insisted it was tradition now, even if Buck suspected that “tradition” had only started a visit ago. They’d played a few rounds of that ridiculous kart racing game Chris always destroyed them at, and then, after homework and a round of Buck inspecting the final product like he was definitely qualified to grade middle school science, Chris had finally gone to bed.

 

Now, the house was quiet.

 

The living room lights were low, and some old movie was playing in the background—neither of them really watching it. Buck was sprawled in the corner of the couch, one leg tucked under him, the other stretched out. Eddie was beside him, head tilted back, arm hooked lazily over the cushion behind Buck.

 

“I haven’t heard anything from my parents,” Eddie said softly, eyes on the screen but unfocused. “Not since that night.”

 

Buck didn’t need to ask which night he meant.

 

He sat up a little straighter, giving Eddie his attention. “Yeah?”

 

Eddie nodded slowly. “Not a call. Not a text. Nothing.” He let out a quiet laugh that didn’t sound like amusement. “I know it’s not exactly a surprise, but... I don’t know. I still kinda thought they might come around, you know?”

 

Buck’s chest tugged. He didn’t say anything. Just listened.

 

“I feel stupid,” Eddie went on, voice low. “Like I should’ve expected this. Like it’s my own fault for hoping it’d be different.”

 

“It’s not stupid,” Buck said quietly.

 

Eddie didn’t look at him. “My tía Pepa’s still in El Paso with my abuela, and the house just feels... I don’t know. Emptier, I guess.” He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling hard. “I even thought about calling my cousin Rosa. She lives in New York. She’s with the NYPD. Tough as hell. She came out a few years ago, told her parents she’s bi.”

 

That made Eddie smile, just a little.

 

“Her dad—my tío Oscar—you should’ve seen him growing up. Buck, I’ve been slightly afraid of that man for most of my life. He’s huge. Quiet. Has a look that could probably get a full confession out of someone without saying a word. And he isn’t even in law enforcement.”

 

Buck’s lips quirked. “Sounds terrifying.”

 

“He is,” Eddie said, chuckling under his breath. “But even he came around. It took time, but he did. Because he loves Rosa. Loves her more than whatever image he had in his head of what things were supposed to be.”

 

Buck could hear the weight shift in Eddie’s voice then. A sliver of hope. And a lot of longing.

 

“I want that too,” Eddie admitted. “I know it’s dumb. I’m grown. I have Chris, I have—” He paused, glancing briefly at Buck. “I have people who love me. But I still... I want them to see me. And not flinch.”

 

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick with things unsaid, but understood.

 

Buck’s heart ached in a quiet, familiar way. For Eddie. For the years he'd spent shrinking himself to fit someone else’s expectations. For the hurt he still carried like an old bruise he never quite stopped pressing on.

 

He didn’t offer some pretty, hollow reassurance. Didn’t promise that Eddie’s parents would change. Instead, he just leaned a little closer, shoulder brushing Eddie’s.

 

“You’re not stupid for wanting that,” Buck said.

 

“I wish I was more like you when it comes to this stuff,” Eddie said quietly.

 

Buck glanced over, brows raised. “Like me?”

 

Eddie gave a half-shrug. “Yeah. I mean, your parents found out because you kissed Tommy right there in the hospital. You didn’t even hesitate. You just… did it. Like you didn’t care who saw.”

 

A dry laugh escaped Buck. “Trust me, that’s not something to envy.” He leaned back, eyes going distant. “It took me forever to realize that the only relationship I ever had with a guy was… awful. And honestly? If Tommy hadn’t ended it, I think I’d still be with him. Miserable, but too stubborn or scared to admit it.”

 

Eddie’s face tightened with something close to concern, but he didn’t press. Instead, he let out a shaky breath, eyes still fixed somewhere past the screen. “Thanks, Buck.”

 

Buck didn’t respond right away. He just looked at him for a moment—at the curve of Eddie’s shoulder under the soft cotton of his shirt, the quiet tension still sitting in the lines of his neck, like even now he wasn’t letting himself fully relax.

 

So Buck reached out, slow and easy, and rested his hand on Eddie’s neck. Just a gentle press of fingers over warm skin. Steady. Present.

 

Eddie went still.

 

Then—he melted. Just the slightest softening, a breath slipping out of him like he didn’t even know he’d been holding it in. A quiet sound left his mouth, barely audible, but it hit Buck like a spark catching dry kindling.

 

And then Eddie shifted, like he’d remembered something too late, like his body had responded before his brain had caught up. His ears flushed pink, blooming high and fast as he slid just slightly to the side. Not far. Just enough to break the contact.

 

Buck blinked at him, not pulling away, not pushing either. Instead, he reached over, snagged the throw blanket off the arm of the couch, and dropped it over Eddie’s lap with a light toss.

 

“Movie’s terrible,” Buck muttered.

 

Eddie huffed a laugh, still a little red. “You picked it.”

 

Buck smirked. “And yet here you are, still watching it with me.”

 

Eddie smiled at him, small and real, the warmth still tugging at the corners of his mouth. He didn’t move back closer, but he didn’t move further away either.

 

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Guess I am.”

 

The movie played on, but neither of them was watching. Buck kept his gaze forward, too aware of the way Eddie’s body had subtly leaned away—not enough to be cold, but enough to remind Buck of the unspoken line between them.

 

The contact, brief as it had been, still lingered on his skin. His hand itched with the memory of Eddie’s warmth. They didn’t speak. The air was thick with something fragile, like if either of them moved too fast, it’d shatter.

 

And then Eddie turned.

 

Not all at once, just a small shift of his body first. Shoulders angled toward Buck, tension wound tight in his spine. Then he shuffled a little closer, blanket rustling over his lap. Buck turned to meet him, slow, pulse in his throat.

 

Eddie’s gaze was darker now, quiet and intent. “We didn’t get to finish in Bobby’s kitchen.”

 

Buck blinked. His mouth parted, caught somewhere between surprise and heat. “Yeah?” he said, voice low. “Thought you wanted to act like it didn’t happen.”

 

But even as he said it, his hand lifted—almost involuntarily—and slid back to the nape of Eddie’s neck. His fingers threaded into the short strands of hair there.

 

Eddie’s breath caught, just slightly. Then he moved, fluid and sure now, straddling Buck’s lap in one smooth motion. His knees bracketing Buck’s thighs. His hands resting on Buck’s chest, grounding himself.

 

Their eyes met.

 

And then Eddie kissed him.

 

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t unsure. It was hungry. Hot and deep and messy, like he’d been holding back too long. Buck groaned into it, hands moving instinctively to Eddie’s ass, grabbing hold and pulling him closer, tighter. The blanket slipped to the floor unnoticed.

 

Eddie rocked into him once, just once, and Buck’s mind went blank.

 

“You wanna finish what we started?” he rasped, breaking the kiss just long enough to ask.

 

Eddie nodded, a little breathless, eyes locked on his like they couldn’t look away. “Yeah. I really—yeah.”

 

Buck didn’t wait.

 

He stood in one fluid motion, lifting Eddie effortlessly. Eddie’s legs locked around his waist, arms around his neck, their mouths barely parting. Buck grinned—cocky, feral, possessive—as he adjusted his grip beneath Eddie’s thighs and made his way to Eddie’s bedroom.

 

Eddie turned red almost instantly. He buried his face against Buck’s neck and muttered, “This is ridiculous. I can walk.”

 

Buck still grinned, voice rough at the edges. “Yeah, but I don’t want to let go.”

 

Eddie huffed a laugh, breathless and fond. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“And you’re in my arms,” Buck murmured, tightening his grip, “so I’m doing something right.”

 

He nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, and Eddie laughed quietly against his skin—still pink, still flustered, but holding on tight.

 

Eddie’s bedroom was dim, lit only by the living room light Buck hadn’t bothered to turn off behind them. He kicked the door shut with his foot. Eddie’s arms were still looped around his neck, legs tight around Buck’s waist, and Buck didn’t set him down right away. He just stood there, holding him, breathing him in. The closeness felt like a confession in itself.

 

Eventually, Eddie let out a quiet laugh, low and shaky. “You’re kind of a show-off, you know that?”

 

Buck grinned, unrepentant. “Only for you.”

 

The answer hung in the air, soft and unguarded. Buck saw the way Eddie’s breath hitched, the way his eyes lingered, like he wasn’t sure what to do with something that gentle. It made something in Buck twist, something warm and big and a little bit fragile.

 

He bent, hands gliding down Eddie’s thighs as he set him gently on the edge of the bed. But before he could retreat even an inch, Eddie’s hand caught his collar and tugged.

 

“Come here,” he said, low and rough and so goddamn tender it nearly undid Buck.

 

He went without hesitation.

 

Eddie backed up onto the bed, fingers already working at Buck’s shirt, sliding it up and over his head like he’d done it a hundred times before. He made quick work of his buckle next, and Buck just let him, let himself be undressed like he was something treasured. He helped Eddie out of his own clothes too, warm hands sliding under fabric, pulling, peeling, touching. Eddie’s dog tag—the one Buck had given him what felt like ages ago—glistened in the moonlight.

 

Soon they were bare and tangled in the middle of the bed, moving without direction, instinct pulling them closer. Buck hovered above him, then settled in, skin to skin, the heat of Eddie’s body grounding him, buzzing through him.

 

His mouth found Eddie’s neck, drawn there like a magnet. He tasted something sweet, something purely Eddie, as he mouthed at the spot where his pulse stuttered wildly. Eddie let out a moan—low, wrecked, utterly unfiltered.

 

Buck froze, lips still pressed to skin. “Eds,” he whispered, barely audible. “Shhh. Chris is asleep.”

 

Eddie blinked, startled like he’d just remembered where they were. His face flushed, blooming pink with heat and embarrassment. “Shit,” he murmured. “Sorry.”

 

Buck kissed the corner of his mouth, gentle. “Don’t be. Just…” He smiled against his lips. “Maybe save that one for when we’ve got the house to ourselves.”

 

Eddie chuckled, breathless and a little sheepish. “Can’t make promises if you keep doing that with your mouth.”

 

Buck nipped his bottom lip, playful and wanting. “Then I guess we’re both in trouble.”

 

Eddie didn’t answer, just looked at him. His gaze was heavy and open and unshaken by hesitation. And then, quiet but sure, he said, “Grab the lube. I need to touch your cock.”

 

The words landed like a jolt, hot and direct. Buck’s breath caught. “Yeah,” he managed, voice hoarse. “Okay.”

 

He reached for the lube without taking his eyes off Eddie, handed it over with trembling fingers. Eddie took it, but not before brushing his knuckles along the inside of Buck’s wrist, intimately. Then he gently pushed Buck down onto the bed, reversing their positions with a look that was equal parts reverent and hungry.

 

Buck let himself be moved, sprawled out beneath Eddie’s gaze, the air thick with anticipation.

 

Eddie paused, kneeling between his thighs, just staring for a moment. Not in hesitation—more like he was drinking him in. Buck lay there, chest rising and falling, flushed and open, watching right back.

 

Then Eddie leaned down, soft kiss to Buck’s lips, then his jaw. The hollow of his throat. The curve of his collarbone. His hands mapped along Buck’s sides like he was learning something by heart.

 

When his mouth found Buck’s nipples, it sent a shiver down his spine—wet heat, tongue and lips and gentle suction until Buck was panting, groaning, his fingers tangled in Eddie’s hair.

 

Eddie kept going, slower now, purposeful, kisses trailing down the plane of Buck’s stomach. He was teasing, savoring. Buck could barely breathe. His cock throbbed with every brush of breath, every glance of lips, every second Eddie hovered nearby. Because having Eddie’s tongue even in the vicinity of his cock was sinful, let alone on it, against it, around it.

 

“Oh, Eddie,” Buck whispered, voice cracking around the edges. The first hot glide of Eddie’s tongue against his cock made his hips stutter up, made stars pop behind his eyes. He bit his lip hard, swallowing the sound threatening to escape.

 

Eddie hummed, pleased, and the vibration shot through Buck like lightning. He wasn’t sure how long he could stay quiet. Wasn’t sure how long he could survive this—Eddie, here, finally more confident and in control than Buck had ever seen him.

 

Buck’s head fell back against the mattress, chest rising with shallow, shaky breaths as Eddie’s mouth slid down his dick, then up again—slow, deliberate. Buck bit down on his fist this time to stay quiet, but it was getting harder. Every flick of Eddie’s tongue, every hollow of his cheeks, every wet pull of heat made his muscles tense and his vision blur at the edges. He didn’t know where to put his hands—he wanted to grab the sheets, Eddie’s shoulders, his hair, his heart.

 

“Fuck, Eds,” he rasped, voice ragged and barely restrained. “You’re gonna kill me.”

 

Eddie glanced up at him, and pulled off with a soft, obscene sound, lips wet and flushed. “Not planning on it,” he murmured, his voice wrecked and rough. “Wanna see you fall apart, though.”

 

That—Jesus. That just about finished Buck off right there.

 

Before Buck could think of something to say Eddie was crawling up his body, slick fingers curling around Buck’s cock again as he kissed his way up his chest. His movements were smooth but purposeful, desire bleeding through every touch.

 

Buck grabbed him by the hips as soon as he was within reach, flipping them in a quick movement that made Eddie huff out a surprised laugh. Now he was beneath Buck, arms sliding around his back, legs spread and wrapping around Buck’s waist like muscle memory.

 

Buck kissed him, deep and greedy, and Eddie kissed back like he’d been waiting for this all his life.

 

The grind of their hips made them both gasp, Buck’s cock sliding slick between Eddie’s thighs, and for a moment that was enough, friction and heat and the weight of each other, skin on skin. It was maddening, in the best way. Buck moved his hips again, slow and grinding, the slick heat of Eddie’s thighs a perfect cradle for his cock. He could feel everything—Eddie’s breath catching, the way his legs tightened around him, how his hands slid up Buck’s back like he needed to anchor himself.

 

Buck braced his forearms on either side of Eddie’s head and dipped down, kissing him again, deep and wet and a little desperate. Eddie’s mouth opened under his, eager and hot, tongues sliding together as their bodies rocked in rhythm.

 

Eddie broke the kiss first, gasping against his lips. “Jesus, Buck—don’t stop.”

 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Buck panted, forehead pressed to Eddie’s. “Not unless you want me to.”

 

Eddie shook his head, hair sticking to his damp temples. “Want you like this. Just—this.”

 

That was all Buck needed to hear. He shifted just slightly, adjusting the angle, and rocked forward again. His cock slid through the slick mess between their bodies, nestled perfectly between Eddie’s thighs, the pressure delicious. Eddie’s own cock was hard and leaking against his stomach, and every movement had them both groaning.

 

It was so much. So good.

 

Buck reached down, hand curling around both of them, pressed snug between their stomachs. He stroked them together—slow, tight pulls—watching Eddie’s face the whole time. His mouth was parted, eyes fluttering, one hand fisting the sheet like he couldn’t take it, the other digging into Buck’s back, dragging him in closer.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, voice breaking.

 

Buck leaned in and kissed his cheek, his jaw, the edge of his ear. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured. “So fucking hot.”

 

Eddie turned into him, kissing him again, harder this time. Buck could feel how close he was—his body tensing beneath him, hips jerking up helplessly into Buck’s strokes.

 

“Come on, Eds,” Buck whispered, words shaky and low. “Let go for me.”

 

Eddie buried his face in Buck’s neck, breath stuttering out of him in broken gasps. His whole body trembled—and then he came with a quiet, choked sound, heat spilling between them, his legs tightening around Buck’s waist as he rode it out.

 

Buck kept moving, barely able to hold himself back, the slick friction now even wetter, hotter. He reached down, grinding into the mess between them, chasing his own high.

 

Eddie’s voice, still raw, breathed in his ear, “Come on, baby. I’ve got you.”

 

That did it.

 

Buck came with a stifled groan, mouth open against Eddie’s shoulder, every muscle locking before releasing all at once. The world narrowed to warmth and touch, the rhythm of Eddie’s breath, the soft glide of fingers through his hair.

 

They lay there tangled, catching their breath, skin sticky and flushed, still wrapped up in each other like gravity wouldn’t let them go.

 

Eddie sighed and let his eyes close. Buck settled next to him on his back.

 

What had they done?

Chapter 19

Notes:

fyi: i wrote a scene last night and i was like yeah the people are gonna love me and then i wrote another scene this afternoon and was like yeah the people are gonna stone me

so pls don't stone me in a few chapters <3

Eddie was on his knees in the firehouse basement—more specifically, in the old supply closet that everyone swore was haunted. Right now, though, the only thing ghosting through his mind was Buck’s cock resting heavy and warm on his tongue.

 

He wasn’t allowed to lick. Or suck. Or do anything but sit there, mouth full, breath slow. Buck called it cock-warming.

 

Eddie called it torture.

 

He would’ve gladly sold his soul just to be allowed one proper taste, to hollow his cheeks, to hear the kind of noises Buck made when he really let go.

 

After last week—after that night at Eddie’s place when Buck had bolted right after their orgasms—it felt like things should’ve ended. But somehow, without any explanation, they’d slipped right back into whatever undefined thing this was. Not a relationship. Not exactly.

 

Eddie didn’t understand but welcomed it very much. Welcomed the excuse to steal private moments. To touch Buck. To be touched in return. Also, orgasms. Lots, and lots of orgasms.

 

Buck stood in front of him, one hand braced against the wall, the other tangled in Eddie’s hair—not pulling, just holding. Eddie could feel the faint tremble in Buck’s thighs, the restraint it took not to move, not to thrust. They were both barely holding it together.

 

The silence stretched, heavy with breath and want.

 

“Fuck,” Buck muttered, voice rough. “You’re too good at this. Even when you’re not doing anything.”

 

Eddie’s heart thudded at the praise. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move—not with Buck’s rules—but something in his eyes must’ve given him away. Buck looked down, met his gaze, and Eddie swore the world narrowed to just that—those blue eyes, the weight of him on Eddie’s tongue, the quiet electricity between them that never really faded.

 

“You like this too much,” Buck whispered. His thumb traced along Eddie’s cheekbone, affectionate, reverent. “You shouldn’t. We shouldn’t.”

 

That word again: shouldn’t.

 

It haunted everything they did. Every kiss, every touch, every secret moment like this. Eddie should pull away. Should say something responsible or logical or final.

 

But instead, he closed his eyes and sank a little deeper onto his knees.

 

Buck exhaled sharply through his nose. Then, without warning, he stepped back.

 

Eddie made a confused sound, muffled and needy, only to be left cold and empty as Buck pulled out of his mouth. Before Eddie could even look up in protest, he heard the unmistakable zip of Buck’s pants being done back up.

 

“What—” Eddie started, voice raw, lips wet and parted.

 

Buck grinned down at him with infuriating calm, like he hadn’t just driven Eddie to the edge and yanked him back at the last second. “You didn’t think I was going to let you suck me, did you?”

 

That was exactly what he had expected.

 

Eddie blinked. His knees ached. His cock throbbed in his pants. He was breathing like he’d just run drills in full gear. “Buck…”

 

“You were doing so well,” Buck went on, crouching just enough to brush his knuckles along Eddie’s flushed cheek. “All obedient. Quiet. God, you look pretty with your mouth full.”

 

Eddie’s jaw tensed, but it only made Buck smirk more.

 

“Thing is…” Buck leaned in, his mouth ghosting over Eddie’s ear, “I like seeing you ache for it.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs. The cold air down here suddenly felt unbearable.

 

“You don’t need release,” Buck murmured. “You need patience.”

 

“I am patient. I have been nothing but patient,” Eddie growled, every word pulled straight from the molten pit in his stomach. “Jesus, Buck, I—”

 

“I know.” Buck kissed the corner of his mouth. Soft, sweet. “That’s why I’m so proud of you.”

 

Eddie thought he might combust from sheer frustration. He was shaking with it—torn between throwing Buck against the wall or begging on his knees all over again.

 

But Buck stood back up like he had all the time in the world, adjusting his shirt, his belt, like nothing had happened. Like Eddie wasn’t still throbbing and ruined on the floor of a forgotten supply closet.

 

Then Buck glanced back down, almost fond. “Don’t pout, Eds. If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you come next week.”

 

“Next week?” Eddie barked, voice cracking.

 

Had he really just jinxed himself out of orgasms?

 

Buck just laughed. Bastard. He reached for the closet door handle.

 

Eddie hadn’t even gotten his legs back under him when the firehouse alarm blared overhead—loud, piercing, relentless.

 

“Perfect timing,” Buck said, already slipping out the door with a wink. “Duty calls.”

 

Eddie remained on his knees for a beat longer, dazed, flushed, and furious—his body coiled tight and his thoughts an incoherent snarl of want. Then, with a low groan of disbelief, he finally got to his feet, adjusted himself as best he could, and muttered under his breath: “Dead. He’s so dead.”

 

But even as he stormed after Buck, half-hard and fully wrecked, he already knew he’d let him do it again.

 

Probably tomorrow.

 

*

 

The fire had been brutal.

 

Hot, dirty, relentless—one of those multi-alarm infernos that left everyone coated in ash and soaked in sweat, adrenaline still pumping long after the last embers were doused. Eddie’s shoulders ached from hauling victims out of collapsed stairwells. Buck had a smear of soot across his cheek and a busted lip from a ceiling beam that nearly caught him.

 

Now, back at the firehouse, the adrenaline was gone, and Buck was still in his head.

 

That goddamn supply closet scene was playing on a loop—warm weight on his tongue, the dizzying scent of sweat and skin, the sound of a zipper followed by Buck walking away like nothing had happened.

 

Eddie’s jaw still ached from how tight he’d been clenching it.

 

They didn’t speak on the ride back.

 

He slammed his locker shut harder than necessary and strode straight to the showers. His body was filthy—soaked in sweat, soot smudged deep into his pores—but it wasn’t just the fire that made him feel dirty. It was need. A need that had sunk under his skin and lodged there, unrelenting.

 

He yanked the door of his stall shut, stepped under the spray, and let the hot water sting. Eyes closed. Head tipped back.

 

He needed this—just five damn minutes to breathe. To forget how smug Buck had looked. How gentle his voice had been when he whispered, “Next week.”

 

Fucking next week.

 

The door to the showers creaked open. Footsteps padded across the tile. Slow. Measured. The sound of his door opening.

 

Eddie opened his eyes.

 

Buck stepped into the stall like he belonged there, steam curling around his bare chest, hair wetting and dripping down his temples, his lip still busted and red from the call. He said nothing.  

 

Eddie looked at him with large eyes. “What are you—”

 

Buck pressed a hand flat against Eddie’s chest, pinning him against the wall. “Quiet,” he breathed.

 

The word hit Eddie harder than it should have. Eddie’s heart stuttered hard under Buck’s palm, and from the look in Buck’s eyes, he felt every beat.

 

Alarm bells rang through his mind, the Kitchen Fiasco™ still fresh in his mind. “We can’t— The others—”

 

Buck pressed him harder against the wall before he could finish, the tile cool against his spine, Buck’s body very much not cool pressed against his front.

 

“Then be quiet,” Buck whispered, mouth brushing Eddie’s ear, “and let me make it up to you.”

 

Eddie let out a shaky breath as Buck's fingers skimmed down his chest, over the fresh bruise on his ribs. Gentle. Then lower. Not so gentle.

 

Eddie clenched his teeth. “I’m not in the mood for more games,” he warned, voice tight.

 

“No?” Buck tilted his head. His voice dropped, husky and low. “Then why are you hard already?”

 

Eddie's breath hitched, body betraying him completely. He was hard. Aching. The heat of the shower was nothing compared to the fire curling through his gut at Buck’s touch.

 

Buck’s hand slid lower, wrapping around his cock with maddening slowness.

 

Eddie bit back a groan, something caught between a curse and surrender.

 

“Still mad?” Buck murmured against his mouth, brushing their lips together but not kissing him. Not yet.

 

“Yes,” Eddie hissed, but it came out more like please.

 

Buck grinned. “Good.”

 

Then he dropped to his knees.

 

Eddie’s knees almost buckled. The sight alone nearly undid him. Those blond, damp curls. Those blue eyes looking up at him innocently. Like he wasn’t sex on legs.

 

The heat of Buck’s mouth, the scrape of stubble, the suffocating steam curling around them—it was overwhelming. He barely managed to brace himself with one hand on the tiles and the other clamped over his own mouth.

 

Outside their stall, water turned on in a different shower. A door slammed shut. Someone yawned.

 

They weren’t alone.

 

Every instinct in Eddie screamed run, don’t, not here—but Buck’s tongue traced a line down the side of him, slow and sinfully confident, and Eddie could do nothing but feel. Buck didn’t even suck. Just mouthed at him, over and over, lazy and cruel. Every pass of his tongue, every graze of his teeth, was calculated. He was dragging Eddie to the edge and holding him there, just to prove he could.

 

And then—fuck. His fingers.

 

Buck’s touch trailed up Eddie’s inner thigh, a slow tease until he reached the space just behind his balls. And then he lingered. Pressed there. Rubbed there. Wet fingers tracing circles over skin Eddie hadn’t even realized was sensitive until now.

 

He nearly cried out at the feeling. Instead, he slammed both hands over his mouth, biting back the moan that threatened to rip out of him. Because—Fuck!

 

Eddie wanted to beg. Wanted to curse him out, shake him, touch him. But he couldn’t make a sound. He shouldn’t make a sound.

 

He was shaking. Inside and out. The sound of rushing water was the only thing masking the frantic rhythm of his breathing, and even that felt too loud.

 

Then Buck stopped.

 

Eddie’s eyes flew open. Buck was still on his knees, looking up at him with slick, swollen lips and eyes like storm-dark glass.

 

“Say you’ll be good,” Buck whispered.

 

Eddie cursed under his breath, voice wrecked, even while whispering, “I’ll be—fuck—I’ll be good. Please.”

 

That was all it took.

 

Buck swallowed him down in one smooth, devastating motion. Hot, tight, merciless.

 

Eddie’s head thudded back against the tile, eyes rolling back as stars burst behind his lids—sharp, blinding, endless.

 

And then—God—Buck’s fingers slipped back between his legs, teasing that same spot before pushing inside him with sinful precision.

 

Stars. Fucking stars.

 

Eddie clamped both hands over his mouth, again, because he knew he was loud. And in here, with the shower running and anyone close enough to hear? He didn’t stand a chance. He’d never lost control like with Buck. But Buck had a way of pulling those ragged, obscene sounds straight from his core.

 

Buck went deeper, nose pressed to Eddie’s pelvis, as his cock slid all the way to the back of Buck’s throat.

 

Eddie didn’t know what sensation to chase—the slick, devastating heat of Buck’s mouth or the unrelenting pressure of the finger inside him, curling just right, grinding into his prostate like it was personal. It was too much. Too good. He wasn’t going to last.

 

Buck’s lips sealed around him, hot and sure and devastating, and Eddie’s body snapped. He squeezed his eyes shut, bit down on his wrist, trying not to break apart under the weight of it all. But it was hopeless.

 

His orgasm tore brutally through him—unstoppable. Buck swallowed every pulse of it without so much as flinching, never looking away.

 

When Eddie finally sagged back against the tiles, legs shaking, water slicking down his overheated skin, his heartbeat was thunder in his ears.

 

Buck stood slowly, kissed the corner of Eddie’s mouth like a silent victory, and murmured, “Next time you want something, get on your knees and beg.”

 

Then, just as another voice echoed closer—Hen, talking about someone stealing her sports drink—Buck disappeared out of his stall like smoke.

 

Eddie stood there, dazed and dripping, one hand still pressed against the tile, the other pressed against the stall to keep standing. He hadn’t even touched Buck once. And now he had to walk out of this shower like nothing happened.

 

He let out a low breath, chest still heaving, and muttered, “Unbelievable.”

 

*

 

It had been three days.

 

Three long, agonizingly slow days since that shower. Since Buck had dropped to his knees and stolen every thought from Eddie’s head, then walked away like he hadn’t just wrecked him under hot water with their teammates mere feet away.

 

Since then, Buck had been infuriatingly normal. Friendly. Teasing. Untouchable.

 

Eddie couldn’t get his hands on him.

 

Until now.

 

The call had come in late—nothing too dramatic. An overheated engine and a woman stuck in an elevator. Tense, but over fast. They got back to the firehouse just after midnight, sweaty and wired from the other calls spread out over the day. The others drifted off toward food or showers.

 

Buck went toward the locker room, shirt already tugged over his head.

 

Eddie followed. Just stepped in, caught Buck mid-change, the light overhead flickering slightly with the hum of old wiring.

 

Buck looked up from his locker, chest bare, skin still glistening. He smirked. “Following me now, Diaz?”

 

“You owe me,” Eddie said.

 

Buck raised a brow. “Do I?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer. He just crossed the space between them in three quick strides, slammed Buck back against the lockers with a low clang, and kissed him hard—no finesse, no warning.

 

And Buck kissed him back. Hungry. Eager. Open-mouthed and heat-drunk.

 

Eddie groaned into it, letting his hands roam over Buck’s ribs, his hips, his waistband. He hooked a finger under the belt of Buck’s pants and tugged.

 

Buck laughed against his mouth, shooting a look at the stairs through the glass walls. “Getting bold, huh?”

 

“Don’t act like you didn’t start this,” Eddie muttered, lips grazing down Buck’s throat. “Three days. Three days of you acting like nothing happened.”

 

He bit down gently just below Buck’s jaw.

 

Buck let out a breathy sound—nearly a moan.

 

Eddie’s fingers slid beneath the waistband of his pants again and then he froze—

 

Because Buck’s voice dropped, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade: “Who gave you permission to touch me?”

 

Eddie’s entire body went still. Heat shot straight to his core.

 

Buck’s hands found his wrists—not rough, not harsh, but commanding. He slowly peeled Eddie’s hands away from his skin and pinned them back at the small of Eddie’s back.

 

“You think because you’re hard and pissed off you get to take control now?” Buck murmured, breath hot against Eddie’s cheek. “That’s cute.”

 

“I—” Eddie started, but the words vanished when Buck leaned in, mouth brushing his ear.

 

“You want to touch me?” Buck whispered. “You ask.”

 

Eddie swallowed. “Buck…”

 

“Try again.”

 

It wasn’t a request.

 

Eddie gritted his teeth. His pride screamed at him not to. But his body? His body was already betraying him.

 

“Please,” he ground out, voice hoarse. “Let me touch you.”

 

Buck’s smile was all teeth and heat. “Good boy.”

 

Then he kissed Eddie hard, rough, filthy—tongue and teeth and dominance. He let go of one wrist, slid Eddie’s hand back down to his waistband, guiding it just low enough to tease, not low enough to satisfy.

 

Buck hummed, stepping back. His eyes raked over Eddie’s body, from the strands of hair falling over his forehead, to his eyes, down his nose to his lips. His neck, the way his chest moved with his harsh breathing, over his stomach to his tented pants. Where they stayed.

 

Buck hummed again, before grabbing another shirt and pulling it over his head. Then he walked out of the locker room.

 

Eddie groaned, hitting his head against the lockers out of pure frustration.

 

Buck had flipped it. Again. And Eddie couldn’t even pretend he didn’t love it.

 

 

*

 

It started as a game.

 

After that night in the locker room—when Buck had pinned Eddie against the metal and calmly, ruthlessly, dismantled his attempt at control with one whispered line—Eddie had decided it was time to flip the script.

 

Just once.

 

Just to see Buck come undone. See him flushed and wrecked and reaching for Eddie instead of the other way around. And tonight, the opportunity practically dropped into his lap.

 

They got back from the call around 3:20 a.m.—the kind of call that left sweat clinging to their spines and smoke soaked into their skin. Everyone was exhausted, running on pure instinct. Sometimes even showering was too tiring.

 

Buck dropped into a chair at the kitchen table, legs spread like he owned the space, head tilted back, neck exposed. His turnout jacket had already been peeled off and tossed aside. His LAFD shirt clung to him in all the right places, collar damp with sweat, fabric stretched just enough to hint at what was underneath.

 

Unfair.

 

Eddie leaned against the counter, sipping from a water bottle, eyes locked on him.

 

Watching.

 

Waiting.

 

He slid in beside Buck at the table with a carefully neutral face, casually letting their knees brush under the table.

 

Buck didn’t even blink.

 

“Hell of a night,” Eddie said, voice low and rough from smoke and exhaustion.

 

Buck glanced at him sideways, lips quirking like he knew exactly what Eddie was trying. “You say that every night.”

 

Eddie’s hand drifted beneath the table.

 

Just a test.

 

His fingers grazed the inside of Buck’s thigh, light, almost innocent. Like he might’ve been reaching for something he dropped. Buck’s leg tensed beneath his touch.

 

But his expression? Utterly relaxed. He took a lazy sip from Eddie's water bottle.

 

Eddie’s heart thudded. He pushed a little higher. Flattened his palm. Traced just under the hem of Buck’s shirt, where bare skin met boxers.

 

Nothing.

 

No flinch. No gasp. No cracked façade.

 

Buck swallowed and turned—casual, bored, infuriatingly composed—and called out across the space, “Hey, Cap? You want help rinsing the hoses?”

 

“Yeah, thanks,” Bobby replied distractedly from downstairs, scribbling something down in a logbook.

 

Eddie sat frozen, hand still curled between Buck’s legs like a goddamn fool.

 

Buck stood.

 

Eddie’s hand slipped away, empty.

 

Buck adjusted his shirt, shoving it in his pants—not rushed, just practical—and gave Eddie a perfectly neutral smile. Not smug. Not mocking.

 

Just… unreadable.

 

“Coming?” Buck asked softly.

 

Eddie’s jaw tightened. He stayed seated a moment longer, chest buzzing like a live wire. His cock pressed against the seam of his pants, hard and ignored. His brain screamed at him, You’re a grown man. Pull yourself together.

 

But he wasn’t done yet. Not even close.

 

The second attempt came at breakfast.

 

The kitchen was full of sleepy voices and clinking forks. Chim made pancakes. Hen, still grumpy from her broken sleep, nursed a black coffee like it was oxygen. Laughter floated through the space from something Ravi said.

 

Eddie sat directly across from Buck at the table. He waited until Buck was mid-conversation with Hen. Then slid his foot beneath the table. Found Buck’s calf.

 

He nudged. Slowly. Soft at first. Then firmer. He dragged the toe of his sock up Buck’s leg—past ankle, past knee, higher still.

 

Buck didn’t flinch.

 

Didn’t stop talking.

 

Didn’t even pause to acknowledge it.

 

Eddie went higher. Slipped his foot between Buck’s thighs. Pressed up.

 

Not. A. Damn. Reaction.

 

Buck chewed a bite of pancake. Took a sip of coffee. And casually, casually, looked at Eddie with a raised brow and said, “You good?”

 

The audacity.

 

Eddie retracted his foot like it had been burned.

 

Later, in the locker room, he tried again. Buck had just bend down to grab his bottle from the floor. 

 

Eddie cornered him against the wall, hand brushing low against his hip, breath hot against his ear. The others were all upstairs. 

 

“You gonna bend over like that for me too?”

 

Buck smirked, leaned back casually, and said, “Is that what you’re into? I’ll make a note.” Then left. Just walked out.

 

Eddie was going to lose his mind.

 

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Eddie sat in the dark of his bunk, phone screen lighting up his face.

 

Buck:  ur cute when you try

 

Buck: lemme know when ur ready to beg properly

 

Eddie let his head fall back against the pillow. Eyes closed. One hand curled around his phone. The other curled into a fist.

 

He had never been edged through an entire 72-hour shift before.

 

This wasn’t a game anymore.

 

It was war.

 

*

 

If anyone had noticed the weird energy radiating off Eddie during every shift, no one mentioned it. No one except Buck, maybe, who smirked at every failed attempt to unravel him. To get the upper hand. To be the one in control, for once.

 

To finally be filled up again.

 

Eddie wanted Buck to take him apart. To bend him over and fuck him relentlessly. He’d been aching for it since the first, and last, time they’d had sex. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel if Buck would really let go. Because Eddie knew he had held back that night. Buck had been so damn gentle, all because it had been Eddie’s first time.

 

Vanilla. Vanilla, my ass.

 

He needed Buck to lose control. Just once. And then he could die a happy man.

 

It was not fair. No matter what Eddie tried, Buck knew a way to slip away or to turn it around and unravel Eddie instead. He hadn’t gotten an orgasm from Buck since that night in Eddie’s bed. Which. Was. Not. Fair.

 

Because Buck? He’d pulled orgasm after orgasm from Eddie since then—with his fingers, his mouth, sometimes even without undressing him.

 

So, Eddie had laid out the perfect trap. He’d spent two shifts planning it. Every move calculated, every variable considered. Buck’s tells, his weaknesses, his patterns of control. He’d paid attention. Studied him like a blueprint. He felt like a tactician preparing for war, and in some way he was. Now, finally, he had an opportunity to turn the tide.

 

It had been a slow shift. Just one call late afternoon. No fire, only a minor collision near a strip mall. By the time they were back, the others were winding down: Hen on the phone with Karen, Bobby and Chim buried in paperwork in Cap’s office, Buck and Ravi bickering over some game like overgrown children.

 

“Buck?” Eddie called, casual as anything, even though his pulse spiked when both heads turned. “Can you still help me with the boxes before you start your game?”

 

Buck sighed, raking a hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, sure. Forgot about that.”

 

“I can help you losers too,” Ravi offered, too damn chipper. “So I can smash you sooner.”

 

Eddie smiled at him, knowing it didn’t reach his eyes. Hopefully they weren’t spitting the fire his heart was spitting: Back off, Panikkar!

 

Back gave Ravi a look though, before Eddie could say anything to get him to back off. “How about you turn the game on and try to fucking figure out how to get the old settings back?”

 

“It wasn’t my fault!” Ravi said, throwing his hands up.

 

“No, it was mine,” Buck deadpanned.

 

Ravi rolled his eyes and started up the stairs. “Fuck you, Buck Buckley.”

 

“Right back at ya, Panikkar.” Then he turned to Eddie. “Okay, let’s go. I’ve got to beat him this time to break the tie.”

 

Eddie followed him into the forgotten office space—quiet, dim, still thick with old dust and disuse—and closed the door behind them with a soft click. Then, without hesitation, he turned the lock.

 

Checkmate.

 

Buck turned, one brow cocked, smirk already forming. “That subtle, huh?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. He closed the distance between them, gripped Buck by the collar, and shoved him back right into the wall, between the whiteboard and a stack of long-forgotten training manuals.

 

Eddie kissed him before he could say anything else. Rough. Hard. A clash of teeth and breath and hunger. Weeks of planning and obsession poured into that kiss. Every missed opportunity. Every sleepless night. Every time Buck had wrung him out and walked away smug.

 

But not tonight.

 

Tonight was different. Because Eddie had spent two shifts building a strategy. Watching, tracking, learning Buck like a map of faults and fractures. He knew the angles now—the way Buck’s control frayed when pushed just right. He wasn’t going to be outmaneuvered again. Not tonight.

 

Buck kissed him back, but let him lead. Let him press in, dominate, control. And Eddie felt it, felt the power shift, however slight. He had him. Finally.

 

It was in the subtle things. The hitch in Buck’s breath when Eddie bit his lip. The twitch of his fingers still submissively held against the wall. The faint stutter in his pulse when Eddie ground their bodies together. He was still standing. Still smug. But there was something else brewing underneath. A falter, a tremor.

 

There. Right there. That was the crack.

 

And Eddie pounced.

 

He leaned in, voice low, close to Buck’s ear. “You’re quiet,” he murmured, savoring the moment. “Not used to being the one on the ropes?”

 

Buck chuckled, but it was tight. Tense. Controlled.

 

Eddie smirked. “Not missing your orgasms?” he teased, mouth brushing the shell of Buck’s ear. “How long’s it been, Buck? You holding out for something?”

 

Buck didn’t answer. His lips were parted, eyes dark—but still watching Eddie. Watching him with something that looked like restraint.

 

Eddie was winning. He had Buck caged. Really caged him. Hands planted on the wall, his own thigh slotted perfectly between Buck’s legs, pressure just enough to make Buck’s cock twitch. And Eddie just stood there. Letting the tension stretch like a wire pulled taut, waiting to snap.

 

It was delicious. Addictive.

 

Eddie leaned back just enough to take him in—flushed skin, parted lips, tense muscles, those maddeningly unreadable eyes. God, he looked wrecked. And Eddie loved that it was him doing it.

 

He grinned. It was time for the final blow.

 

“What?” Eddie breathed, taunting now. “You wanna go for the title?”

 

He felt the hitch in Buck’s breath. Saw the flicker in his eyes. And for a second—a single glorious second—Eddie believed it. That he had him. That Buck was his to ruin.

 

But then Buck smirked. It was slow. Lethal. Like a storm building behind his eyes. “You think you’ve earned it?” he asked, voice still maddeningly calm, rich with something dark and amused. “You think standing there with your thigh between my legs means you’ve taken me down?”

 

Eddie’s stomach dipped. The tone had changed.

 

Buck moved, just barely, but it was everything. His hands weren’t on the wall anymore. One hand gripped Eddie’s hip, fingers curling tight. The other traced up the line of his spine, threading through his hair with slow, deliberate possession. His grip tightened, coaxing Eddie’s head back just enough to make him meet Buck’s gaze—commanding, unreadable, and far too steady.

 

Shit.

 

Buck didn’t shove him. Didn’t even lean in. Just held him there, like a warning wrapped in velvet. “But sure,” he murmured, tilting his head, the corner of his mouth curving like a blade. “I’ll play along. Just for fun.”

 

He let the moment hang. Tension spiking between them, electric and poised to detonate.

 

“Go on, champ.” Buck’s breath ghosted across Eddie’s lips. “Try for the title. Let’s see what happens.”

 

Eddie’s pulse thundered in his ears. His body screamed take it, take him—so he did. He surged forward, kissed Buck hard, let all that tight-coiled want snap free.

 

Buck kissed him back with fire.

 

But it wasn’t surrender.

 

It was the fuse being lit.

 

Because suddenly, Buck spun them without effort, slamming Eddie’s back against the wall, swallowing his gasp like oxygen. Didn’t pause. Didn’t falter. Just devoured him.

 

When he pulled back, Buck’s voice was wrecked—low, ruined, filthy. “Cute try,” he rasped, thumb dragging over Eddie’s bottom lip. “Gotta give it to you, you almost had me.”

 

He gripped Eddie’s jaw tighter, rough now, bordering on painful, but Eddie barely felt it over the adrenaline crash.

 

“But next time?” Buck’s voice dropped further, darker. “Don’t come for the title unless you’re ready to bleed for it.”

 

He turned, calm as anything, and unlocked the door.

 

“Wait!” Eddie blurted, the word tearing out of him before he could stop it.

 

His heart was in free fall. His carefully laid plan, the one he’d obsessed over for days, the one built from every twitch in Buck’s jaw and flicker in his breath, was unraveling before his eyes.

 

No. No, no, no. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

 

He’d had Buck. Or he thought he had. He’d studied him like a battlefield, mapped every weakness. He was supposed to be in control tonight. So why the hell did Buck still have the upper hand?

 

Didn’t Buck want him the same way? Didn’t he burn for him, the way Eddie burned? Didn’t he lose control too?

 

Buck paused at the door, hand still curled around the handle. He turned just enough to glance over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

 

Eddie stepped forward, chest tight. “I—We... You can’t just leave.”

 

Buck’s eyes flicked over him. He licked his lips slowly, then grinned. “Gotta go play a real game,” he said, voice low and maddening. “With a real opponent.”

Chapter 20

Notes:

trying to finish this fic before my vacation ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ

Buck licked his bottom lip, eyes locked on Eddie’s every damn movement. Each unsure step through the dancing, groping crowd, the way his shoulders hunched like he wasn’t sure he belonged. Honestly, Buck hadn’t expected him to come tonight. Not to this club.

 

The bass pounded through the floor, bodies pressed close in the dark, strobe-lit chaos. Somewhere out there, Hen and Karen were dancing like no one was watching.

 

“Cap ever come with you guys?” Ravi shouted into Buck’s ear.

 

Buck snorted, eyes still glued to Eddie like he was trying to burn a path through the crowd with sheer willpower. Eddie was finally making it to the bar, dodging dancers like it was a battlefield. Jesus, could he look any more like fresh meat?

 

He watched Eddie exhale—like the act of sitting was a relief—and order drinks for the table. He was looking fucking hot tonight. Buck had tried—really tried—not to notice, but it was a losing battle from the second Eddie sat down in Buck’s car. The too-tight jeans clung to him like sin, hugging his thighs and ass in a way that made it borderline illegal to be out in public. Buck’s eyes kept drifting down no matter how much he told himself to stop being weird about it. And the shirt—God, the shirt—was sleeveless and beige, soft-looking and stretched just right across Eddie’s chest, showing off tan skin and those stupidly sculpted biceps like he’d done it on purpose. Every time he raised his arm to push his hair back, another strand would fall forward over his forehead again, like the universe itself was conspiring to make Buck lose his goddamn mind. He looked effortless and hot and just the right amount of slutty, and Buck was seriously starting to think this night was some kind of test. Because if one more person was going to ogle Eddie, or ‘accidently’ touch him, Buck wasn’t going to be responsible for what happened next.

 

“Cap?” Chim chimed in, arm slung around Maddie, fingers playing lazily with her hair. “Man, he’d rather walk through fire barefoot than go to a gay club. Any club probably.”

 

Buck’s eyes caught movement of danger. A flash of smooth skin. the slow prowl of someone with intent. A shirtless guy was making a beeline for Eddie, who, of course, didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at the bartenders making colorful drinks. Probably trying to memorize the recipes to share with Buck later.

 

Eddie tensed as the guy invaded his personal space, leaning back against the bar. Buck saw his face. And then he recognized him. It was Todd.

 

Shit.

 

Todd was nice  And funny. And Todd was hot. Charismatic, confident, utterly pansexual, and even more versatile. Todd knew how to flirt like it was an artform, and when he wanted something, he usually got it. Buck had hooked up with him a few times. Nothing serious. But everyone who knew Todd, knew he didn’t waste his breath on people he wasn’t trying to take home.

 

And right now, he was talking to Eddie.

 

Buck’s jaw clenched so tight it ached. His fingers twitched at his sides. He could see heat creep up the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie’s ears had gone pink, and he hadn’t even looked at Todd yet. Just one stray comment and the man was blushing.

 

Fucking Todd.

 

“Where you going?” Maddie asked, blinking up at him from where she was leaning heavily against Chim.

 

Buck hadn’t realized he had stood up. He mumbled something about helping Eddie with the drinks, but it sounded distant, even to him, as he stalked toward the bar.

 

Eddie was smiling now. Relaxed. And Todd was right there, doing that thing where he leaned in like he owned the air around someone. Of course, Eddie’s blushing. Of course, he's leaning back and laughing like he doesn’t have a giant fucking target on his back. Why the hell was he smiling like that? Eddie doesn’t even know him. He doesn't smile like that for just anyone. Of course, Todd wanted to fuck Eddie.

 

Over Buck’s dead body.

 

Todd was leaning closer, saying something into Eddie’s ear, hand brushing the bar inches from Eddie’s arm. The bastard was going to touch him—Buck could see it happening in slow motion.

 

Nope. No. Hell no.

 

Buck finally reached the bad just as Todd leaned in a little too close to Eddie. He could imagine Todd’s voice being honey-smooth, while his fingers touched Eddie’s arm mock-innocently.

 

Eddie was laughing. Laughing.

 

Buck wanted to flip the damn bar over.

 

“Hey,” he said, loud and sharp, cutting through the hum of the bar. A territorial snarl disguised as a greeting.

 

Eddie turned, surprised, but then smiled—that smile, just for him, always for him. “Buck, hey.”

 

Todd turned too, flashing that smug grin that Buck had once found charming but now wanted to punch directly off his face. “Buckley,” he drawled, smooth and easy, like this wasn’t a goddamn ambush. “Long time.”

 

Buck’s jaw ticked. “Didn’t know you were in town.”

 

Todd shrugged. “Got back a couple weeks ago. You know me—can’t stay away too long.” His eyes flicked back to Eddie. “This city has its charms.”

 

Eddie smiled, polite but slightly confused, glancing between the two of them. “You two know each other?”

 

“Oh,” Todd said smoothly, “we go way back.”

 

Buck stepped closer, closing the space between them and putting himself ever-so-slightly in front of Eddie. It wasn’t subtle, he wasn’t even pretending to be. He wanted Todd to see it. Wanted him to feel it.

 

“We’ve hooked up,” Buck said flatly, not looking away from Todd.

 

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

 

Todd arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wow. Okay, that’s... one way to phrase it.” Todd laughed lightly. “We had some fun. Great kisser, your friend here.” He winked at Buck and Buck had the sudden, vivid fantasy of poking his eye out.

 

Eddie cleared his throat, reaching for one of the drinks the bartender slid over. “Cool. That’s... cool.”

 

Todd leaned casually on the bar, unbothered. Clearly amused. “So, Eddie,” he said, drawing out his name like it tasted good. “You new around here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before. Trust me, I’d remember.”

 

Oh my god, you’re not subtle. Buck wanted to yell. You’re a walking cliché in Calvin Kleins.

 

Eddie gave a soft, polite laugh, still slightly overwhelmed. “Uh, no. I’ve lived here a while. I just don’t really go out much.”

 

Todd’s eyes sparkled. “Shame. A guy like you should be seen.”

 

Buck’s jaw flexed. Hard.

 

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be,” he bit, not even pretending to hide his annoyance now.

 

Todd shot him a grin. “Come on, Buckley. You used to love being seen.” Then to Eddie, “He used to wear these tight little jeans—God, what a time.”

 

Eddie blinked again. “Oh.”

 

Buck stepped in even closer, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Eddie now. “Alright. That’s enough.”

 

But Todd just tilted his head. “Oh? I’m just saying—some people shine when they’re admired. You know that, right, Eddie?”

 

“I—I guess?”

 

“And you,” Todd turned to Buck, “used to enjoy the attention. Now you’re all... possessive. I mean, we were never exclusive, babe. We could’ve been, but you didn’t want to.”

 

Buck’s eyes must spit fire at this point. Daring Todd to keep going. Begging him to push just a little too far.

 

Todd just smirked. “Relax, Buckley. I’m just teasing.”

 

“Back off.”

 

That landed. Todd’s smile faltered, just slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice—but Buck did. He knew Todd. Knew when he’d crossed the line.

 

He raised his hands, like he was backing away from a skittish animal. “Alright, alright. Message received.” Then, with one last wink at Eddie, “Didn’t mean to step on anyone’s toes. You’ve got good taste.”

 

Buck didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. His fists were clenched tight enough that his nails dug into his palms. Eddie was still sitting there awkwardly, not really understanding what was going on.

 

“Alright,” Todd said, stepping back. “You two have fun tonight. Buck, good to see you. Still cute as hell.” With that, he disappeared back into the crowd, leaving Buck seething and Eddie—bless him—still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

 

There was a moment of silence. The music pulsed. Buck didn’t realize how tightly his fists were clenched until Eddie bumped his arm.

 

“Hey,” Eddie said, a little smile tugging at his lips. “You okay?”

 

Buck didn’t answer right away. Still staring after Todd like he was waiting for the guy to miraculously pop back up so he could deck him.

 

Eddie nudged him again, shoulder brushing his, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hello? Earth to Buck.”

 

Buck grunted. “He’s an idiot.”

 

Eddie laughed—actually laughed—and Buck shot him a look.

 

“You’re laughing?”

 

Eddie shrugged, still grinning. “A little. I’ve just never seen you like this.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Jealous.”

 

Buck scoffed. “I’m not—” But the words died before they finished, because even he didn’t believe that. He glanced at Eddie, who was just watching him now with that stupid, smug expression, like he was enjoying this way too much.

 

Buck frowned. “You think this is funny?”

 

“Maybe,” Eddie teased. “It’s just... usually I’m the one quietly seething whenever someone flirts with you.”

 

Buck blinked. Turned to face him more fully. “Wait, what?”

 

Eddie just took a sip of his drink like he hadn’t said something that would live rent-free in Buck’s head for the next decade.

 

“You get jealous?”

 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the part we’re focusing on right now.”

 

Buck opened his mouth to protest—no, actually, they should absolutely focus on that—but Eddie’s smug little grin returned, and Buck felt his already-frayed temper start to boil again. He leaned in close, the music vibrating through the floor, the lights flashing around them, and said low enough for only Eddie to hear, “For the record, I wasn’t jealous.”

 

Eddie huffed a quiet laugh, clearly not buying it. “Sure.”

 

“I was pissed,” Buck clarified. “Because I know Todd. And guys like him don’t talk to people unless they want something.”

 

Eddie tilted his head, baring his neck a little. “And what do you think he wanted?”

 

Buck didn’t hesitate. “Your ass.”

 

That wiped the amusement off Eddie’s face—just for a second. He blinked, caught off guard by the sheer bluntness of it.

 

Then, slowly, that smirk started to creep back. “Well, considering you’re not exactly using it...”

 

Buck’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

 

Eddie shrugged, lips twitching with barely restrained laughter. “Just saying. Feels a little unfair to claim something you’re not doing anything with.”

 

Buck opened his mouth, then closed it, completely speechless for a beat. His brain short-circuited. “You little shit,” he muttered, eyes narrowing—but it wasn’t angry. Not really. It was pure heat now, simmering just below the surface.

 

And then he stepped closer—putting his hands on the bar behind Eddie, caging him in. He didn’t care who was watching. Didn’t care if it was obvious. He wanted it to be obvious.

 

“I don’t care if he knows we’ve hooked up. I don’t care if he’s got some memory of me burned into his ego. He doesn’t get to look at you like that.”

 

Eddie stared at him, that smug smile returning, a little softer now. “So... you were jealous?”

 

Buck’s nostrils flared. “You’re mine.”

 

He didn’t mean to say it. Not out loud. Not like that. But the words came out anyway, low and rough, like they’d been dragged from somewhere deep in his chest.

 

Eddie froze for a second, lips parted like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

 

Buck could feel his pulse in his ears, fast and angry and loud. He shifted, suddenly aware of how close they were, how many people were around them, how dangerously easy it would be to close that gap and just—

 

But Eddie just gave him this look. Not surprised. Not scared off. More like... satisfied.

 

“Well,” Eddie he murmured. “Guess I better act like it, then.”

 

“Indeed,” Buck growled lowly. “Now get your ass back to the table.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he murmured against Buck’s ear.

 

And with that, he grabbed two of the drinks off the bar, turned, and started walking back toward the others—like he hadn’t just lit Buck on fire and walked away.

 

Buck stared after him for a second, still blinking, before finally following with the other drinks. His pulse refused to settle as he sat down at their table.

 

He wasn’t jealous. He was… territorial. Protective. Possessive, maybe. But even that was pushing it.

 

Maddie’s eyes narrowed the second Buck sat down. She was watching him with that very specific big-sister look—the one that said I know you, I raised you, and you're being weird. So, spill.

 

Buck took a sip of his water, stared straight ahead, and shook his head once. Silent. Subtle. Not now.

 

Her brows lifted just slightly, mouth twitching like she wanted to say something—but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned into Chim’s side again, stealing a sip of his cocktail like she hadn’t just read her brother like a book.

 

A moment later, Hen and Karen returned from the dance floor, both slightly out of breath, cheeks glowing, holding hands and grinning like they were teenagers again.

 

Hen dropped into her seat. “Okay, that DJ has range. I just twerked to a remix of Celine Dion. I’m both impressed and confused.”

 

“I think I pulled something,” Karen added, laughing as she reached for one of the cocktails on the table.

 

Chim raised his glass. “To gay clubs: the only place where Celine and Cardi B live in perfect harmony.”

 

“Amen,” Hen said, clinking her glass with his.

 

Before Buck could fully settle, Ravi popped up from where he’d been scrolling his phone, eyes lit up like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands once. “Game time.”

 

Buck blinked. “What kind of game?”

 

“The best kind,” Ravi said. “Ridiculous, slightly dangerous, probably a little stupid.”

 

Karen groaned, grinning. “This is gonna be great.”

 

“It’s called ‘Gay Bar Dare Roulette’,” Ravi announced, and Hen nearly spit out her drink.

 

“You just made that up,” Eddie said.

 

Ravi pointed dramatically. “Wrong. I saw it on TikTok. Basically, someone spins a bottle—yes, Buck, thank you for your sacrifices,” he said, grabbing Buck’s empty water bottle. “Whoever it lands on has to do a dare chosen by the person to their left. And it has to be something that can be done in the club. If they refuse to do it, they have to kiss the person to their right.”

 

“Oh God,” Buck muttered, already regretting everything. Eddie was sitting on his right.

 

“This is either going to end in viral fame or a very awkward group apology to club security,” Maddie said, smiling sweetly.

 

Chim was already clearing space on the table. “Let’s go.”

 

Hen raised her glass again. “To bad decisions and our family.”

 

“Cheers!” everyone said in unison, and Ravi, looking far too proud of himself, spun the bottle.

 

It twirled, rattling across the sticky surface of the table, catching flashes of neon light as it slowed... and landed squarely on Buck.

 

Everyone whooped.

 

Ravi grinned, evil. “Dare from Maddie.”

 

Buck turned to his sister, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare.”

 

Maddie smirked, sipping her drink like a queen watching the chaos unfold. “I dare you to get on the dance floor and... grind on the next person who makes eye contact with you.”

 

Buck looked horrified. “What—Maddie!”

 

“Come on, baby Buck,” she grinned.

 

Chim laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench. Hen actually clapped. Karen gave Buck a pitying pat on the shoulder. Eddie, of course, was staring into his drink like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe—but Buck saw it: the slight curl of his lips. He was enjoying this.

 

He was enjoying this because he knew if Buck backed down, he’d get kissed. And wasn’t that exactly what he wanted?

 

Buck groaned, draining the rest of his soda. “If I end up grinding on Todd, I’m quitting the 118.”

 

“No backsies,” Ravi said, already waving him off toward the dance floor. “Go, go, go!”

 

And with that, Buck stood up to meet his fate—wondering if there was a version of hell that involved slightly too-sticky floors, aggressive strobe lights, and almost his entire family watching his dignity slowly disintegrate.

 

The dance floor swallowed him almost immediately. Lights were flashing, bodies moving, the air thick with sweat and bass. He weaved through the crowd, dodging a guy in glitter pants, someone doing interpretive vogue, and what might’ve been a conga line forming in the corner.

 

All he had to do was make eye contact with someone.

 

He caught the eyes of a tall brunette near the center of the floor—sharp eyeliner, gold hoops, confident as hell. She raised an eyebrow at him like she was daring him to look away.

 

He didn’t.

 

She smirked, grabbed his shirt, and pulled him in.

 

And that was that.

 

Suddenly they were dancing, pressed too close, her hips rolling into his like she’d done this a thousand times and could do it in her sleep. Buck did his best to keep up, hands hovering, unsure of where to put them without catching a harassment charge.

 

The woman definitely didn’t have the same hesitation. Her hands found his shoulders, his waist, and then lower, and Buck tried not to think about the fact that literally everyone he loved was watching from across the room.

 

And then—oh God—she tilted her head, leaned in, and sank her teeth into his neck. Not hard. Not painful. Just long enough to mark him.

 

Buck froze.

 

By the time he blinked back to reality, she was already stepping away, flashing him a wicked grin. “Thanks, handsome,” she purred before disappearing into the crowd like a sexy, dancing mirage.

 

Buck just stood there for a second, stunned, hand instinctively going to his neck.

 

Yup. That was a hickey.

 

The first hickey he’d gotten in a gay club—and not even from a guy. He sighed, turned, and trudged back to the table like a man walking to his own execution.

 

As soon as he got within earshot, the table erupted.

 

Maddie choked on her drink. “Did she just—oh my God, did you let her bite you?!”

 

“She didn’t ask,” Buck muttered.

 

“She didn’t have to,” Hen cackled. “Your face said yes ma’am before she even touched you.”

 

Chim was crying with laughter. “You’ve been branded, man. You’re marked. That’s it. You belong to the clubnow.”

 

Karen reached over and squinted at his neck. “Oof. That’s gonna last.”

 

Ravi beamed like a proud parent. “That’s what I’m talking about. Dare accepted. Iconic.”

 

Buck rolled his eyes and flopped back into his seat, trying to ignore the way Maddie kept grinning at him like she’d orchestrated the whole thing. He reached for his water—and froze when his eyes met Eddie’s.

 

Eddie was silent. Calm. Cool. Too calm. He was watching Buck with an expression that gave nothing away—except maybe the faintest twitch in his jaw. And the tight grip on his glass. And the way his eyes lingered on the mark on Buck’s neck.

 

Oh.

 

Buck sat back, hiding a smirk behind his drink.

 

Eddie wasn’t laughing. Eddie was stewing.

 

And Buck, for once, kind of enjoyed it. He swallowed his drink before turning the bottle.

 

The game devolved beautifully into madness. The rules were very loosely followed.

 

Karen dared Maddie to take over the DJ booth for 30 seconds and scream “Make some noise if you’ve been emotionally devastated by a firefighter!” Maddie did it—with gusto—and came back to thunderous applause and zero shame.

 

Chim declined a dare to do body shots off Hen (Karen was too gleeful about that one), which meant he had to kiss the person to his right. Ravi didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and planted a dramatic, unnecessary kiss on Chim’s cheek, then said, “You’re welcome,” like he’d just performed a public service. Chim just blinked, speechless, while Hen nearly fell off her stool laughing.

 

Hen dared Karen to propose to a stranger. Karen picked someone absurdly attractive, got down on one knee, and said, “Will you marry me for the health insurance?” They actually said yes.

 

Everyone screamed.

 

Buck was still grinning when Maddie tossed him a glance and said, “Alright, hotshot. Your turn to dare someone.”

 

Buck turned the bottle, and it ended on the person to his right. “Okay... Eddie.”

 

Eddie arched a brow, slow and lazy. “Yeah?”

 

Buck’s grin turned a little dangerous. “I dare you to let me give you a lap dance.”

 

The table erupted.

 

Chim choked on his drink. Ravi whooped like he’d just won front-row tickets to the world’s worst magic show. Karen and Hen started pounding the table in rhythm, chanting “Do it! Do it!” like this was a college frat dare and not... whatever the hell this night had turned into.

 

Eddie? He just stared at Buck for a long, quiet moment. And then he shrugged. “Fine.”

 

Buck blinked. “Wait—really?”

 

Eddie nodded, deadpan. “Go ahead.”

 

That threw Buck off for a second. He hadn’t expected Eddie to call the bluff. He was supposed to blush, get flustered, sputter something Catholic, maybe punch his arm and tell him to shut up. Not just invite it with that quiet confidence and the barest flick of challenge in his eyes.  He was supposed to rile Eddie. Get under his skin. Flip the tables a little after the Todd situation.

 

But Eddie leaned back in his seat, legs spread just slightly, arms crossed over his chest—and gave Buck a look that said: Alright, cowboy. Impress me.

 

The fire in Buck’s chest flared.

 

Challenge accepted.

 

The music had shifted to something slower, sultrier, bass-heavy and absolutely made for poor decisions. Buck didn’t go full strip-club mode—he wasn’t that shameless and they weren’t alone!—but he stepped between Eddie’s knees and started to move. His hips swayed lazily to the beat, slow and deliberate, not even trying to be subtle about it. Hen let out a scandalized laugh. Chim looked like he was witnessing a war crime.

 

Buck rolled his hips again, hands ghosting over his own stomach and then up his chest like he was warming himself on a fire only he could feel. He watched Eddie the entire time.

 

Eddie didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t even blink.

 

But his jaw was tight. His eyes were locked onto Buck like a sniper scope. And his arms—still crossed—were flexing in that way they did when he was trying not to do something reckless.

 

Buck leaned down, dragging a finger very slowly down the middle of Eddie’s chest. He let his mouth dip close to Eddie’s ear, his breath brushing over the shell of it. “Still jealous?” he whispered.

 

Eddie didn’t answer.

 

So Buck got closer. His hand landed on Eddie’s shoulder, he let his lips graze the sharp line of Eddie’s jaw. as he murmured, “Because I can feel how hard you are.”

 

A muscle jumped in Eddie’s jaw.

 

Buck grinned.

 

He turned around, giving Eddie one last little grind—just a casual roll of his hips, purely for science—before stepping back.

 

The table was practically in shock. Even Hen looked a little speechless. Chim was half-hiding behind Maddie. Karen had her phone out—definitely filming. Ravi just snorted, muttering something under his breath Buck didn’t catch.

 

He just dropped into his seat like he hadn’t just committed social homicide and lifted a new water bottle like a toast.

 

“So, who’s next?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

 

Eddie still hadn’t moved, his fingers drummed once on his bicep. Then he turned the bottle. “Oh,” he said, voice low. “You’re next, Buckley. And you better be ready.” It landed on Hen however. Eddie’s eyes were still locked on Buck, heat simmering behind them like he was planning payback—deliberate, slow-burning payback.

 

But Ravi, bless his chaotic soul, had no patience for smoldering tension.

 

“Alright, we’re moving on,” he declared, rubbing his hands together like he was about to cast a spell. “Hen…”

 

Hen raised a brow at him.

 

Ravi grinned like he’d been waiting for this moment all night. “I dare you to drink from Karen’s shoe.”

 

Karen’s expression turned murderous. “Absolutely not! I’m wearing Jimmy Choos!”

 

Hen shrugged like a champ. “Guess I’m kissing the person on my right.”

 

Which, as it happened, was Karen.

 

Hen turned, cupped her wife’s face with exaggerated romance, and dipped her like they were in a movie. Everyone cheered. Hen popped back up like it was nothing, saying, “Better than athlete’s foot, babe.”

 

Karen fanned herself with her napkin. “You’re lucky I love you.”

 

Next up was Chim.

 

Maddie grinned. “Serenade the bouncer!”

 

Hen laughed loudly, high-fiving Maddie.

 

Chim glanced around once, then pointed dramatically at a very confused bouncer across the bar. He launched into Endless Love in an off-key falsetto, holding out his hand like he meant it. The poor bouncer just stared at him, clearly wondering if he needed to call security. Everyone else? Wheezing.

 

Buck was halfway through wiping his eyes when Eddie finally sat forward, eyes trained on him.

 

The bottle landed on Buck. Again. The universe was so against him.

 

Chim laughed wickedly. “I dare you… to sit still while Eddie does whatever he wants for the next thirty seconds.”

 

Karen whispered, “Oh, shit.”

 

Maddie nearly choked on her drink. “Is that allowed?”

 

Ravi leaned forward like this was his favorite reality show. “I second this dare.”

 

Buck felt the air leave his lungs like someone had sucker-punched him. His gaze snapped to Eddie, who was already pushing back from his chair with obscene calm.

 

“Okay,” Buck said, voice rough. “Yeah. Sure.”

 

Eddie stood slowly. Like he had nowhere else to be. Like he wasn’t about to ruin Buck’s life in front of their entire table. He didn’t say a word. Just crossed the short distance, every step loud in Buck’s ears despite the music still pulsing in the background.

 

Not missing your orgasms?

 

How long’s it been, Buck? You holding out for something?

 

You wanna go for the title?

 

 

Buck’s pulse thundered. He sat up a little straighter, getting rid of the memories. He was very aware of everyone watching, but more aware of Eddie—of how deliberate every step was. Eddie didn’t speak. He just reached down, gentle as anything, and brushed Buck’s hair back from his forehead. Then his thumb traced along Buck’s temple, down the sharp line of his cheek, a lazy, almost affectionate glide that made Buck's breath catch.

 

And then, he leaned in.

 

Softly, softly, he murmured against Buck’s ear, “Still not ready to use my ass?”

 

Buck’s entire body went still.

 

Do not react. Do not react.

 

Eddie’s fingers dropped lower, to the base of Buck’s throat, where his pulse was thudding so hard it felt like a drumbeat against skin. And then, slowly, maddeningly, those fingers slipped beneath the open collar of Buck’s shirt. Just a fraction. Just enough to make Buck feel it in his spine.

 

He traced a single, featherlight line across Buck’s chest—nothing overt. Nothing anyone could call out. But it scorched.

 

Buck’s hands curled into fists in his lap, knuckles white.

 

Just like that he stepped back and dropped into his seat again. “Time’s up,” he said, casually, reaching for his drink.

 

The table was silent again. For two full seconds.

 

Then Hen slowly clapped. “I don’t even know who won, but I feel like I did.”

 

Karen nodded solemnly. “This is the best night of my life.”

 

Ravi looked personally blessed. “I’m gonna be thinking about this night for the rest of the year.”

 

Buck just blinked. His heart was still racing, his skin buzzing. He looked over at Eddie. Who was watching him from beneath lowered lashes, the smuggest, most evil little half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Like he hadn’t just short-circuited every last functioning neuron in Buck’s brain. Like he wasn’t done.

 

*

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Buck chuckled, the sound low and warm, as Hen wrapped him in another hug. He patted her back gently, more amused than annoyed.

 

“You know I love you, right, Buckaroo?” she beamed up at him, her eyes glassy with affection and too much alcohol.

 

“Someone come get your wife!” Chimney whooped, nearly doubling over in laughter. “Karen!”

 

God. They were absolutely hammered.

 

Ravi and Buck hadn’t been drinking, both sticking to water and soda. Eddie, Maddie, and Karen had nursed a few drinks, enough to get a nice little buzz, that gentle warmth that softened edges but didn’t tip them into tipsy. Hen and Chim, though? They’d burned right through their brakes. Something about finally being able to relax. Ravi’s ridiculous dare game probably hadn’t helped.

 

With a dramatic eyeroll, Maddie shoved Chim into their car and slammed the door. Karen peeled Hen off Buck with an exaggerated sigh and did the same. Ravi saluted like a soldier heading into battle and slipped into his own car, leaving Buck and Eddie standing alone under the humming streetlight glow.

 

“Ready to go?” Buck asked, twirling his keys around his finger.

 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Where to?” he challenged.

 

“Home?” Buck replied, already sensing where this was headed after the last two weeks. “I’ll drop you off, then head to mine.”

 

He could see the flicker in Eddie’s jaw before the man turned away, teeth clenched. He didn’t argue. Didn’t say a word. Just walked to Buck’s car and yanked the door open with a little more force than necessary.

 

Buck exhaled slowly through his nose and followed.

 

It wasn’t that what Eddie had done hadn’t destroyed him—it had. Every teasing touch, every breathless whisper. And not only today, for the past two weeks. Buck had practically vibrated with want. But… want was dangerous.

 

He didn’t want to mess this up. And he was scared that they would. Again. Because the last time they had slept together, Buck had practically been ready to hand over his heart. And then the shitstorm called Diaz parents and disassociation from their son happened.

 

And he hadn’t just lost Eddie. He had also lost Christopher.

 

But, maybe even more than that, Buck was scared it would be Tommy all over again. And he knew, realistically, that Eddie and Tommy were not the same. But Buck had thought that before and look where that had gotten him. Eddie liked to remind him of his poor track record every time they dissected Buck’s exes which was… pretty often, now that he thought about it. Maybe he was indeed a bad judge of character.

 

And now, every time Eddie touched him just right or looked at him like he was something worth keeping, that old wound flared up—ugly and unhealed. And Buck panicked. Pulled away. Tried to protect something soft and trembling inside himself before it got torn out again.

 

Sure, he liked Eddie begging and aching and desperate. It was part of the thrill. But this wasn’t about that. This was fear. Real fear. That if he gave in, he wouldn’t know how to come back from it this time.

 

He slid into the driver’s seat and shot Eddie a crooked grin. “Car didn’t hurt you.”

 

Eddie stayed silent. Didn’t even look at him.

 

Buck sighed again and pulled into traffic. Even in the dead of night, L.A. still pulsed with life. They drove in silence, the kind that weighed. That pressed in around Buck’s ribs like it wanted to crack something open.

 

Several long minutes passed in silence before Eddie finally spoke. “Why are you pulling away from me?”

 

Buck blinked. “What do you mean?”

 

“Like, is it a therapy thing?” Eddie asked, , shifting to face him full. “Or are you in your head about it? Or do you just not want me?”

 

Buck kept his eyes on the road, but he tightened his grip on the wheel, his knuckles turning white. His tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips. The question hit like a physical blow to his body.

 

“Buck, talk to me.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he tried, playful and light, but his voice broke halfway through the act.

 

It didn’t land. Eddie didn’t laugh. His arms folded across his chest, brows drawn down, eyes searching Buck’s face like he could find the truth buried somewhere beneath the performance.

 

Then something in his expression changed—like something clicked.

 

And Buck’s stomach dropped, preparing himself for the worst.

 

Eddie unbuckled his seatbelt.

 

“Eddie,” Buck snapped, eyes darting between him and the road. “Put your seatbelt on. This does not warrant suicide.”

 

But Eddie didn’t listen. He slid his seat all the way back.

 

“What are you—Eddie—?”

 

Eddie climbed down and kneeled between his seat and the dashboard. He rested back on his heels, hands spread flat on his thighs, head bowed like he was offering something up.

 

“Please, sir.”

 

Next time you want something, get on your knees and beg.

 

Buck’s breath hitched. His foot jerked slightly on the gas, eyes flicking from the road to Eddie. His hand, moving on its own, lifted and slid through Eddie’s hair, slow and reverent.

 

“Please,” Eddie repeated, barely above a whisper. “Please, sir.” That voice—quiet, raw, obedient—scraped right against every nerve in Buck’s body. His body lit up. His brain froze.

 

They reached the T-junction. To the left was Eddie’s place. To the right was Buck’s. To the left was no to sex, no to Eddie. Boundaries. Safety. A lonely bed and control. To the right was surrender. A blissful night. Another fall-out tomorrow. Heartache.

 

Buck turned right.

Chapter 21

Notes:

YAY almost 6000 words of filthy smut lol

Eddie was getting what he had wanted.

 

He wasn’t drunk—barely a buzz tingled under his skin. But heat spread through him as Buck manhandled him up the stairs, their mouths locked in a messy, desperate kiss. Clothes were ripped off in clumsy handfuls, tossed to the floor and forgotten like the self-control they’d both abandoned.

 

“I’ll fucking show you about using that pretty ass of yours,” Buck growled against his lips, before licking inside his mouth.

 

Once upstairs, Buck grabbed the lube from the drawer and tossed it on the bed, followed by a pair of handcuffs. Eddie’s breath caught. He could feel his heart thundering in his throat, before it dropped straight to his cock.

 

Buck clicked on his wall, and an honest to God hidden panel slid open. Something emerged from it like a secret meant only for this moment. Buck pulled some kind of strange piece of furniture out of it. It was almost a cross between a padded gym bench and a massage table. It had four sturdy legs, each breached for stability, and a series of padded rests at different heights.

 

It took Eddie a moment and a few rotations of his head to understand what they were for. The two lowest were for the knees. The two higher ones for underarms. And that, at the front, he recognized, he had seen it when his sisters had gone for massages. That’s where the head was supposed to go. Leather straps hung from all the rests.

 

Eddie couldn’t stop the gasp that left his mouth as Buck closed the compartment again. He wasn’t stupid. Inexperienced maybe. But not stupid. The equipment made it very obvious what was going to happen. He could imagine himself laying on it. Body bend, hips slightly raised, limbs supported but immobile. Buck could do anything he wanted with Eddie and Eddie could only take it and love it.

 

“Take off your underwear,” Buck ordered, making his way back to his bed.

 

And Eddie almost wanted to sob because—Yes! Yes, finally. Fucking finally.

 

He ripped his boxers off, just as Buck turned back to him. “Lay on it, Eddie.” His tone was commanding. Curt. Cold even. And Eddie fucking loved it.

 

He did what Buck said, laying on his stomach on the piece of furniture, head bright fucking red, but loving every minute of it. He was spread out so nicely.

 

Buck slapped him once hard on the ass, and it made Eddie moan. Before he came to crouch in front of Eddie, so he could look in his eyes.

 

“I’ll use the leather straps to cuff you to the bench,” he said. “And I’ll use your ass like you’ve been begging me for weeks now.”

 

“Yes. Green. Whatever.”

 

Buck deadpanned him, before saying, “Green, what?”

 

Eddie flushed, breath already coming faster. “Green, sir.”

 

Buck’s smirk returned, wicked and warm. “Good boy.”

 

He buckled the straps around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, securing him to the bench. Then he disappeared again and Eddie exhaled, already bracing himself for the cold press of lube at his entrance. But it didn’t come.

 

No, when Buck appeared in his view again, he had an enormous mirror in his hands. He positioned it perfectly—angled between the stairs and the bench—so that Eddie had a full, unrelenting view of himself.

 

And just like that, his soul left his body.

 

No. No, no, no. Fuck. He didn’t want to see himself like that—writhing, wrecked, unguarded, fucked senseless. He didn’t want to watch it happen.

 

“Please blindfold me,” he croaked, chest suddenly tight with something closer to panic than arousal.

 

Buck froze, surprise flickering across his face. He crouched back down in front of Eddie, eyes searching. He pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

 

“Why, baby?”

 

Eddie blinked at him. Why? Because feeling gay stuff was not the same as seeing himself being derailed into another dimension and begging for more. He swallowed.

 

“I don’t wanna see myself,” he finally admitted.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I just don’t want to see,” Eddie snapped, the edge in his voice sharper than intended—fear straining to sound like control.

 

Buck tilted his head, still maddeningly calm. “Does this feel like the first time we talked about me eating your ass?”

 

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Eddie muttered, flustered.

 

Buck stroked a gentle hand through Eddie’s hair, coaxing his gaze back on him. “Hey. Listen to me. We can stop anytime. That’s what your safewords are for. Tell them to me again.”

 

Eddie nodded, taking a breath. “Green means keep going. Yellow means pause. Red means stop. Safeword ends the whole scene.”

 

“Good boy,” Buck hummed, fingers now trailing Eddie’s jaw, calmingly. “Now use your words, sweetheart. Why don’t you want to see yourself?”

 

Eddie swallowed hard. “Because I don’t want to watch myself getting fucked like that.”

 

Buck raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Don’t you know how fucking gorgeous you are like that?”

 

Eddie scoffed, snorting, trying to deflect, looking away, but Buck was already turning his face back, refusing to let him hide.

 

“I still can’t believe you want this,” Buck murmured. “Want me.” He leaned in and kissed him again, softly. “I swear, if you had actually gone with Todd, I’d have burned his whole damn place down.”

 

The words made Eddie’s stomach clench. Because Buck had been jealous in the club. And Eddie had wanted to drop to his knees and suck him off because of it. That should not be his default setting. But apparently it was.

 

“I’d never,” Eddie murmured back against Buck’s lips.

 

Buck nodded, then straightened, businesslike but still gentle. “Alright. Two options: I can blindfold you now. Or we try the mirror first, and if it’s too much, we stop and blindfold you. Totally your call.”

 

Eddie opened his mouth, already knowing what Buck wanted. He didn’t want to disappoint him. But Buck cut him off.

 

“Uh-uh,” Buck said, firm but kind. “Don’t give me what you think I want. Choose what you want. I win either way—I still get to fuck your ass and hear you moan my name.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to hide how red he turned at those words. Having his hands cuffed didn’t help the situation. So, he huffed, before saying, “I’d like the blindfold, please.”

 

Buck grinned like Eddie had just handed him the world. Then he leaned in to press another peck against  his lips. “Coming right up, sweetheart.”

 

Within seconds he stood in front of Eddie again, showing him the blindfold. It was black satin, smooth as sin.

 

“Ready?” he murmured.

 

Eddie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

 

Buck kissed the back of his neck, locking their eyes through the mirror, before sliding the blindfold over his eyes. The world vanished. Sight slipped away, and in its place—sound, touch, breath. Everything seemed to sharpen.

 

Eddie could feel Buck’s hands linger on his shoulder blades and he suddenly wondered what it would feel like if Buck would really touch him. He felt Buck’s breath in his neck.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie whispered, startled by the way the absence of vision made everything so much more.

 

“Give me a color, darling.”

 

“Green, sir.”

 

“Perfect.” Buck’s hands skimmed over his skin—light touches, teasing trails. Then lower. Slower. Down Eddie’s back, over his ass, to the tops of his thighs.

 

The straps kept him spread, open, vulnerable. But the blindfold? That made him exposed in a whole new way.

 

Then he felt it. Buck’s breath ghosting over the curve of his ass. The quiet shift as Buck knelt behind him.

 

“Just relax,” Buck said softly, and his hands gripped Eddie’s ass cheeks with reverence and purpose.

 

A moment passed. Then another.

 

And then Buck leaned in and licked a slow, deliberate stripe over Eddie’s hole.

 

Eddie gasped—his whole body jolting like someone had lit a fuse. The touch was soft, almost reverent, but it undid him. Visionless, bound, every inch of skin attuned. He felt it everywhere.

 

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, voice shaking. His fingers curled uselessly against the bench’s edge. He couldn’t even grab it. “Buck—”

 

Buck didn’t answer. Just exhaled warm air and licked again—slower this time. Deeper. His tongue circled, teased, tasted. He mouthed at him like he was starving, like this was the meal he’d waited a lifetime for.

 

Eddie groaned, his head dropping. There was no defense. No armor. Just heat and breath and Buck. He moaned again, louder now, and Buck gripped his ass tighter—holding him steady while he devoured him. Even if Eddie had wanted to, he could not close his legs.

 

Every lick made Eddie feel like he was being peeled open, layer by layer. Like Buck wasn’t just eating him out—he was claiming him. Worshipping him. It was overwhelming. Unrelenting. Beautiful.

 

“Fuck, Buck, I—” He cut himself off, a sob ripping from his chest as Buck pushed his tongue inside Eddie’s ass.

 

Buck hummed against him, a low, pleased sound that vibrated right through his core. Eddie’s hips trembled. His whole body shook. And still Buck didn’t stop. He kept going, deeper, hungrier, his hands gripping Eddie’s ass to pull him closer, open him further.

 

Eddie whimpered, unable to focus on anything else but Buck’s touch, Buck’s tongue. The blindfold really made it worse—or better. Eddie didn’t know. He just knew that Buck was ruining him for anyone else.

 

“Please,” he begged, voice raw, blindfold already damp with sweat. “I— I can’t—” He pulled on his restraints but didn’t even move an inch.

 

Buck pulled back just slightly, breath ragged. “You’re doing so good, baby,” he rasped, kneading Eddie’s ass cheeks. “You taste so fucking good.”

 

Eddie’s head spun. The praise hit like lightning.

 

He felt Buck lean in again, tongue pushing deeper now, eating him out like he’d die without it—and maybe Eddie would.

 

Every breath, every flick of Buck’s tongue, every hum and moan—was etched into Eddie’s skin. He was wrecked and unraveling and completely, gloriously Buck’s.

 

He barely had time to catch his breath before he felt Buck shift behind him again—big hands gripping his ass, spreading him wide.

 

Still blindfolded, Eddie was consumed by everything else: the creak of leather around his wrists, the brush of air on damp skin, the wet, obscene sounds of Buck’s tongue dragging one last time over him.

 

And then—fingers. Slick, warm fingers sliding between his cheeks.

 

Eddie moaned, loud and uncontrolled. He couldn’t see it coming. He couldn’t brace. He could only feel.

 

Buck rubbed slow circles around his rim, teasing, pressing but not breaching yet. “You feel that, baby?” he murmured, voice low and dark, like honey spiked with venom. “That’s how open you already are from me eating you out.”

 

Eddie whimpered, hips twitching. “Buck…”

 

“Shh.” Buck kissed the small of his back, then exhaled over his hole, making Eddie gasp again. “You’re dripping. Fuck, you’re always so fucking needy for me.”

 

One finger slid in, slow but deep. And Eddie felt it like never before.

 

The lack of sight magnified everything—the stretch, the heat, the pressure. He groaned, forehead pressing hard into the bench, body strung tight as a wire.

 

It hadn’t felt like this before. Not like the other times Buck had fingered him. Then, he could see it coming. Could watch Buck’s face, his body. Could anticipate the way Buck’s fingers curled and twisted.

 

But now? It was like Buck was inside his head as much as his body.

 

“You’re clenching so tight,” Buck murmured, sliding in a second finger with a sinful ease. “But you’re taking it. You want it.”

 

Eddie could only groan, muscles shaking with the effort of not losing control too soon.

 

Buck crooked his fingers and Eddie saw stars behind the blindfold—his whole body jolting as that spot was hit dead-on.

 

“Oh my God—”

 

“There it is,” Buck rasped, fingers working deep, slow, and brutal. “You love it when I finger your little hole open, don’t you?”

 

Eddie couldn’t answer, he was too busy trying not to black-out from how good this felt. Buck slapped his left cheek with so much strength, Eddie’s body jolted again. “Mierda.”

 

Fuck, that felt good.

 

“I asked you something, Eddie,” Buck said, his fingers never stopping. He hit that bundle of nerves inside him over, and over, and over. “Tell me, baby. Do you love it when I finger your tight little hole?” He bit the place his hand had just slapped.

 

“Y-yes!” Eddie cried out. “Yes, I do, sir.” He shuddered, gasping, the filth of Buck’s voice coating him like a second skin.

 

“You wanna be stretched on my fingers ‘til you’re leaking all over the bench? Wanna be fucked so good you forget your name?”

 

Eddie whimpered—a desperate, helpless sound he couldn’t have made if his brain hadn’t melted.

 

Buck’s free hand reached further and gripped his hip possessively, fingers digging in just hard enough to anchor him there. The fingers inside him curled again, this time slower, more deliberate. Drawing circles against his prostate, making Eddie’s thighs tremble.

 

“You’re shaking, sweetheart,” Buck purred, voice suddenly lower, darker. “Blindfold’s making you feel everything, huh?”

 

“Yes,” Eddie gasped, head spinning, chest heaving. “Fuck, yes—it’s too much—”

 

“No, baby,” Buck said, thrusting his fingers deeper, wetter, filthier. “Not nearly enough.”

 

Eddie cried out as Buck added a third finger, the stretch burning just enough to make him arch back into it. That was about the only movement he had on this wretched thing.

 

“Good boy,” Buck breathed. “Taking all three like a fucking champ. Just like I knew you could.”

 

Eddie’s entire body was slick with sweat, his muscles trembling with the sheer force of sensation. No part of him was untouched. No part was safe.

 

Buck was everywhere.

 

Every word, every filthy, praising whisper felt like it sank under Eddie’s skin.

 

“You’re gonna be wrecked by the time I’m inside you,” Buck said, voice suddenly a whisper right by his ear. “And you’re gonna thank me for it. You’re gonna come on my cock without me even touching your dick.”

 

Eddie moaned so loudly it echoed.

 

Blindfolded, bound, and finger-fucked to the brink, he had no defense left. No composure. Just sensation. Just Buck.

 

But Buck didn’t warn him. He didn’t have to.

 

Eddie felt it in the air—the shift. The way Buck’s fingers slipped free with one final stretch, how his hands gripped Eddie’s hips with purpose now, less worship, more claiming. The soft drag of lube-slick skin, the heat of Buck’s cock notching right where Eddie needed it most.

 

And then he was inside.

 

Slow. Deep.

 

And Eddie shattered.

 

His mouth fell open around a wordless sound, body tensing, sweat-slick skin trembling beneath the strain. Buck filled him in one long, endless stroke, thick and hot and perfect. He couldn’t see it—couldn’t see a thing—but he felt it like lightning under his skin.

 

“Fuck, Eddie,” Buck groaned, voice ragged. “You’re so goddamn tight like this. Gripping me like you never want to let go.”

 

Eddie whimpered again, wrists tugging at the straps, his body arched into it without meaning to. The blindfold was a curse and a gift, it made everything too much. Every inch Buck gave him felt like ten. Every drag, every push, every breath—

 

He was unraveling.

 

Buck began to move, slow and brutal, hips rolling with deadly precision. His cock dragged over every nerve ending inside Eddie, making him writhe and gasp, helpless to do anything but take it.

 

“Feel that?” Buck whispered against his back. “That’s me splitting you open, baby. Finally fucking this needy hole like you’ve been begging for.”

 

Eddie’s breath stuttered. “Fuck—oh my—fuck—”

 

“You’re losing it already?” Buck purred. “Haven’t even gotten started, sweetheart.”

 

And he hadn’t.

 

Because then Buck snapped his hips forward—once, hard—and Eddie cried out, a broken sound punched out of his lungs. He was incoherent, babbling nonsense, caught somewhere between pleasure and madness.

 

He couldn’t see Buck.

 

Couldn’t ground himself.

 

Couldn’t stop from floating, slipping, spinning—

 

“Yellow!” Eddie gasped, the word tearing from his lips like a lifeline.

 

Buck froze. The sound that left him wasn’t human—half-groan, half-growl, like it physically hurt him to stop. But he did. Immediately. Eddie felt him still completely, and then slowly, with care, slip out of him.

 

“Eddie,” Buck said, already crouching down, hands cupping his face gently. “Baby. You with me?”

 

Eddie hummed. Barely audible. He couldn’t find his words. His body was still trembling, breath too fast, heart racing.

 

“Can I take your blindfold off?” Buck asked softly, forehead pressing against Eddie’s temple.

 

Eddie didn’t answer. His mouth opened but nothing came out. He was still trying to remember how to speak.

 

So Buck did the only thing he could—he laced their fingers together, right there on the padded rests, grounding Eddie with his touch.

 

“I’m here,” Buck whispered, thumbs stroking over Eddie’s knuckles. “I’ve got you.”

 

Eddie swallowed thickly, trying to bring himself back. His chest heaved once, twice—and then—

 

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, guilt curling tight in his throat. “I don’t—fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

Buck’s voice was immediate. “Hey. No apologies. None.” He kissed Eddie’s temple. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

 

Eddie let the silence stretch, their fingers still woven together. Then, finally—quiet, raw, honest—

 

“I want to see you.”

 

Buck exhaled softly, like something inside him cracked open at the words.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Yeah. Of course.” He slipped the blindfold off, slow and careful.

 

Light filtered back into Eddie’s world, and when his eyes adjusted, the first thing he saw was Buck. His face—flushed, eyes wide, concern and heat battling for dominance.

 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Buck said quietly. “You sure you’re okay to keep going?”

 

Eddie nodded. “Please.”

 

And Buck kissed him—slow and deep and anchoring—before pulling back and moving behind him once more. This time, when Buck pushed back in, Eddie saw it. Saw the way Buck’s muscles flexed, saw the strain in his jaw, saw the mirror—

 

Saw himself.

 

Strapped down, flushed, panting. Ruined.

 

And Buck—inside him—with that look on his face like he was losing his mind over the way Eddie looked falling apart for him.

 

It hit like lightning.

 

The vision. The stretch. The pressure.

 

And Eddie came.

 

Hard. Without being touched. Just from seeing it—seeing them—and everything Buck had done to him. He screamed into the bench, stars bursting behind his eyes as his body seized around Buck.

 

Buck gasped, cursed, and fucked him through it, his rhythm faltering as Eddie’s body kept spasming for what felt like eternity.

 

“Fucking—Eddie—Jesus—”

 

Eddie could only moan, trembling and breathless. He turned his head a little to watch it all happen in the mirror like it was someone else. Like he was outside himself.

 

And maybe he was.

 

Because Eddie was floating. Somewhere between consciousness and bliss, blinking up at nothing, breath snagging in his throat while the aftershocks of his orgasm rippled through his muscles like static. He was vaguely aware of movement—Buck pulling out slowly, his fingers skimming Eddie’s hot skin. The sensation made Eddie twitch, already hypersensitive, not able to process.

 

He barely noticed when the straps around his limbs were released, or when Buck gently guided him onto his back. The leather was hot beneath him, and before he could blink himself back into the world, Buck had fastened him again—this time spread open on his back, wrists beside his head, knees bowed, feet strapped down. Eddie's chest rose and fell like he’d run a marathon.

 

“Buck…” he breathed, but it came out hoarse. A rasp of air. His body was trembling.

 

And then he felt Buck press back into him—slow, thick, and devastating—and Eddie’s eyes rolled back at the overwhelming stretch, the return of fullness. His fingers clenched uselessly in the restraints. There was nowhere to go, no way to run from the pleasure. The overstimulation was unbearable and exquisite all at once.

 

“God, look at you,” Buck groaned low in his throat, hand coming down to fist Eddie’s already-softening cock. “You’re wrung out and you’re still taking me. Still opening up so good for me.”

 

Eddie whimpered. That hand, that voice, the slow grind of Buck’s hips, it was too much. Every drag of Buck inside him sent shocks through his already-fried nerves. His whole body felt like a live wire. He couldn’t stop shaking.

 

“You feel that?” Buck muttered, voice thick with awe and desire. “Still so tight after coming all over yourself. You gonna give me another one, baby?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His mouth opened but all that came out was a sound, wrecked and strangled and hungry.

 

Buck’s grip around him was merciless but steady, stroking in time with his thrusts. The rhythm wasn’t fast—no, it was worse. Slow. Intentional. A torturous grind that forced Eddie to feel everything. Every inch. Every drag. Every low whisper that Buck groaned against his skin.

 

“Wanna feel you come again, Eddie. Wanna ruin you for anyone else.”

 

Eddie thrashed weakly, pulling against the restraints as his thighs trembled. He wanted to tell Buck he was already ruined for anyone else. He wanted to tell Buck to stop. He wanted to tell Buck to go faster.

 

Instead, he just whimpered again.

 

“Oh, fuck, look at you,” Buck groaned, sucking on Eddie’s nipple.

 

Eddie just screamed. Again, he tried to pull at the restraints.

 

Buck, motherfucking Buck, just increased his pace. He let go of the nipple, and snapped his hips into Eddie with such force, Eddie’s eyes rolled back again. His whole body jerked, trying to flee the hand around his cock. He was spent. He was not able to give Buck another.

 

But fuck, no matter how awful it was, it felt fucking great. Eddie didn’t know what to think anymore. He couldn’t think. His brain was fried.

 

Buck’s mouth was everywhere—shoulder, throat, chest—alternating between open-mouthed kisses and sharp little bites, each one making Eddie flinch. He didn’t know if it hurt or felt good anymore. His skin felt too tight, too sensitive, every inch of him raw and exposed.

 

“C’mon,” Buck whispered against his skin, tone almost coaxing now. “Just one more, baby. I know you can. You’ve got it in you.”

 

Eddie shook his head helplessly, but Buck only kissed his cheek, gentle despite the punishing pace of his hips.

 

“I got you,” Buck said, voice thick with promise. “You’re not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

 

And he was. Inescapable. Unrelenting. Beautiful.

 

Eddie’s muscles seized as another thrust from Buck’s hips punched the air from his lungs. The drag of Buck’s hand on his cock—too much, too fast, too everything—had him keening. It was white noise in his skull now. Static, buzzing, heat, ache, pleasure. He couldn’t separate any of it. Couldn’t form a single word to tell Buck to stop. Or keep going. Or don’t you fucking dare stop.

 

He was pinned in every way a man could be pinned—by leather, by love, by Buck’s body pressing him open and wide and ruined.

 

The pressure built again. Too soon. Too much.

 

“No, no, no, no,” Eddie sobbed, head thrashing side to side. “I can’t—I can’t—”

 

“Yes, you can,” Buck groaned, breath ragged. “You will. Give it to me, baby. Come for me.”

 

Eddie arched, taut like a bowstring, mouth open in a soundless cry as Buck twisted his wrist just right, fucked into him just deep enough—

 

His next orgasm took him by surprise,  a flash of white heat that made him arch against the straps, scream without shame, and sob into the silence that followed.

 

He didn’t even notice Buck finally falling apart above him, burying himself with a broken sound of release.

 

*

 

The next time Eddie opened his eyes, he was on Buck’s bed, lying flat on his back above the duvet. The room was quiet, humming with the kind of stillness that only came after being completely undone. His body ached in the best way—heavy, warm, used.

 

Buck was next to him, propped up on one elbow, lazily drawing nonsense shapes on Eddie’s stomach with the tip of his finger. Circles. Spirals. A heart. Maybe two.

 

Eddie blinked slowly, still floating somewhere between bliss and exhaustion. His mouth was dry. His limbs felt like sandbags.

 

“I blacked out,” he mumbled hoarsely.

 

Buck hummed, unbothered. “Yeah. Pretty spectacularly.”

 

Eddie tried to summon the energy to be embarrassed but couldn’t quite get there. Not with Buck looking at him like that—fond and smug and a little bit in awe.

 

“You scared me for a second,” Buck added more softly, brushing his knuckles along Eddie’s jaw. “Then you made the most unholy sound I’ve ever heard and I figured you were probably fine.”

 

Eddie huffed out a laugh that was more breath than sound.

 

“Here,” Buck murmured, reaching for the water bottle on the nightstand. He helped Eddie sit up enough to drink, then eased him back down with the kind of tenderness that always made Eddie feel too much.

 

They both settled again into silence, the air warm and thick with the leftover weight of what they’d done. It should’ve been enough.

 

It would’ve been enough.

 

But Buck’s eyes flicked down Eddie’s body—where his cock still lay half-hard despite everything—and his lips curled into that wicked, knowing grin Eddie knew too well.

 

“You’ve got no self-preservation instinct, do you?” Buck said, twirling something between his fingers.

 

The handcuffs. He spun them once, twice, metal glinting.

 

“Up for another round?” he asked casually, like he hadn’t already turned Eddie inside out. “Or are you all talk, cowboy?”

 

Eddie snorted, or tried to. It came out more like a strangled breath. “You’re deranged,” he croaked, still flat on his back, still blinking like he was coming down from orbit.

 

Buck just grinned wider. “That wasn’t a no.”

 

Eddie groaned, throwing an arm over his face. “I can’t feel my legs.”

 

“But you can still get hard,” Buck pointed out cheerfully, nudging Eddie’s thigh with his knee. “Which means somewhere in that gorgeous, wrecked body, there’s still some fight left.”

 

“Fight,” Eddie repeated, like it was the most ridiculous word in the universe. “You’re insane.”

 

Buck leaned in, voice dropping. “It’s part of my charm.”

 

He kissed Eddie’s chest, a lazy trail of soft lips and smug little hums, then settled his weight gently over Eddie’s hips. He rolled them once, slow, grinding them together just enough for Eddie to feel how hard Buck was—and how interested he very clearly remained.

 

“You sure about this?” Buck asked, just above a whisper now. “I’ll cuff you to the headboard this time. Want your hands where I can see them.”

 

Eddie cracked an eye open and saw him—really saw him. Buck’s curls were damp at the edges, his chest slick with sweat, pupils blown wide and lips swollen from kissing and mouthing and saying things that had broken Eddie apart earlier.

 

And he still wanted him. Still looked at Eddie like he was starving. Somehow, impossibly, that helped.

 

Eddie licked his lips and nodded. “Let’s see how much more of that stamina you have.”

 

That was all Buck needed. He pulled Eddie’s arms gently above his head, fastening the cuffs to the headboard. He paused to stroke his thumbs across Eddie’s wrists, then kissed his knuckles. Then, lower—his chest, his ribs, the hollow beneath his navel.

 

“You’re gonna feel everything,” Buck promised, trailing a finger down Eddie’s side. “No more blindfold. Just you, me, and how fucking good I’m gonna make you feel again.”

 

Eddie opened his mouth to argue—but then Buck’s hand closed around his cock again, and his brain short-circuited. His body jolted, half-sensitive and half-desperate, his hips twitching upward against his will.

 

“Fuck—Buck—” he gasped, tugging instinctively at the cuffs.

 

Buck just chuckled darkly. “Oh yeah. That’s still working.”

 

He pressed Eddie’s knees apart again, spreading him wide, his mouth trailing lower and lower, teasing. Worshiping. Until Eddie was panting again, hands curling into fists above his head.

 

He didn’t even notice Buck slicking himself up—too caught in the slow drag of his fingers and the unrelenting attention to every inch of Eddie’s overstimulated skin.

 

But he did notice the moment Buck pushed inside again.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie choked out, hips arching upward, the stretch burning, incredible, too much and somehow not enough all at once. That seemed to be a recurring reality since meeting Buck.

 

“Shh,” Buck soothed, but his voice was wrecked, trembling at the edges. “Just me, sweetheart. Just me.”

 

The pace was slower now—no less intense, but reverent in a way that made Eddie’s throat tighten. Buck rocked into him with purpose, his hand never leaving Eddie’s cock, stroking in time with each thrust like he was trying to pull another orgasm from him by force of will alone.

 

And the worst part?

 

It was working.

 

Eddie shook his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “I—I can’t,” he whimpered, voice cracking. He pulled at the handcuffs again. But to no avail.

 

“Yes, you can,” Buck whispered fiercely, leaning in so close their foreheads touched. “You already did the impossible, Eds. Just give me one more. One more and I’ll come with you.”

 

The pressure was unbearable. Every thrust felt like a lightning strike, every stroke of Buck’s hand was gasoline on already burning nerves. Eddie wasn’t just full—he was overwhelmed. Every inch of him alive and vibrating with sensation. He just couldn’t figure out whether it was good or bad sensation.

 

He sobbed, legs trembling, muscles locking up as Buck whispered filth and praise in his ear.

 

“God, you’re so fucking hot like this… letting me take you apart again. You’re mine, Eddie. All fucking mine.”

 

And just like that—

 

Eddie’s entire body fucking seized.

 

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t silent. It was a violent, blinding explosion that wracked through him like he’d been electrocuted—his back arching off the bed, every muscle locking tight, toes curled, jaw clenched, a raw scream tearing from his throat as his cock pulsed between Buck’s fingers.

 

The orgasm ripped through him like a storm, brutal and consuming. His vision whited out, his lungs forgot how to breathe, and for one suspended moment, his heart felt like it might just fucking stop.

 

And still—still—Buck didn’t stop.

 

Eddie was barely present again as Buck slipped out of him, his body was handled with care but no hesitation. He was flipped, arms crossing awkwardly above his head because the cuffs were still in place, the metal clinking with every shift.

 

Then Buck was back inside him in a single thrust, deeper in this position, and the pace he set was anything but gentle now.

 

It was relentless.

 

Eddie’s face pressed into the pillow, mouth open in a soundless gasp, body trembling violently. He was too far gone to beg—didn’t need to. The stretch burned, nerves singing, every drag of Buck’s cock inside him a new layer of too much, too good, too fucking unbearable.

 

And then, out of nowhere, he was coming again.

 

Again.

 

He wasn’t even hard anymore, not really, but the pressure kept climbing and cresting, no space to breathe, no chance to recover.

 

All he could do was feel.

 

All he could do was thank.

 

“Thank you,” Eddie choked, voice slurred and wet and loud with every snap of Buck’s hips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—”

 

The words tumbled from his lips like a prayer, broken and uncontrollable, because Buck was still fucking him, hard and deep and perfect. Every thrust knocked the breath out of him, shoved the air from his lungs like an offering, and left nothing but sensation behind.

 

Tears streamed down Eddie’s face, sobs shaking his frame even as his body kept giving—shuddering, trembling, seized in pleasure he couldn’t stop.

 

Couldn’t want to stop.

 

And Buck, holy fuck, Buck—he was groaning Eddie’s name, hips slamming forward like he was possessed, hands digging into Eddie’s waist as if to anchor them both. “Fuck, Eddie—baby—fuck, you feel so good—”

 

Eddie sobbed louder. His body shook violently through another aftershock, his thighs cramping, his arms trembling from the awkward angle. But all he could do was take it. All he wanted was to take it. Buck’s body. Buck’s praise. Buck’s fucking love.

 

His own voice sounded wrecked now, raw and shaking.

 

“Thank you—thank you—Buck, I—”

 

Another orgasm ripped through him—no build-up, no warning—just a sudden, jarring convulsion that nearly blacked him out again. His body spasmed helplessly under Buck, his wrists yanking at the cuffs even as he sobbed into the sheets.

 

Buck let out a strangled cry.

 

And then he finally came—deep inside Eddie, buried to the hilt, body shaking as he clung to Eddie’s hips like they were the only thing holding him to earth.

 

Silence crashed in like a wave.

 

The room was thick with the heavy scent of sweat and sex—raw and intimate—charged with everything they’d just given each other. Everything they were, tangled together and laid bare.

 

But Eddie couldn’t think.

 

He couldn’t even breathe.

 

All he could do was sob. Quiet now, his body loose and limp beneath Buck’s steadying presence.

 

Buck was already working at the cuffs, gentle and careful. His lips brushed tender kisses along Eddie’s wrists, whispering his name, soft praises spilling out like a sacred chant—as if afraid Eddie might slip away if he ever stopped.

 

When the last cuff fell away, Buck didn’t pull back. Instead, he slid closer, cradling Eddie’s face between his hands. His thumbs traced slow, soothing circles along Eddie’s jawline, wiping away stray tears like they were fragile promises. He gave him a small, proud smile.

 

“Hey,” Buck whispered, voice warm and steady, “I’m right here. You’re safe.”

 

Eddie blinked through the haze, the tremors still humming beneath his skin, his stomach still clenching and unclenching. He wanted to say something—anything—but all that escaped was a cracked breath.

 

Buck leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s temple, then his forehead, each one grounding him, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Slowly, Buck shifted so he could wrap an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, pulling him close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.

 

Eddie settled into Buck like he’d found home—his body loosening with every breath, even as skin-on-skin contact threatened to overwhelm him again. But the kisses in his hair, the whispered praises—they made everything bearable.

 

“You did so good, baby,” Buck murmured against his hair. “So damn good.”

 

In the hush of that shared warmth, Eddie finally let go, sinking deeper into Buck’s arms, his racing heart slowing—steadying—finding peace in the quiet after the storm.

Chapter 22

Notes:

another Eddie pov because... well, THE TALK (not THE talk tho) it was important :)

Eddie woke to an empty bed.

 

His entire body ached in the best kind of way. Every muscle sore, every nerve still humming. But the absence of warmth beside him made his heart stutter. The space where Buck had been felt too cold. Too quiet.

 

The bench was gone. The cuffs were gone. The lube—gone. And Buck had even cleaned him up. Tucked him in like something precious.

 

Eddie didn’t want to move. He just wanted to roll over, press his face to Buck’s chest, and listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. For the rest of his life.

 

But then it came. That awful, creeping thought, sharp and familiar. The same one that had haunted him the morning after he got drunk with Father Brian. What if Buck would meet someone, he would want to spend the rest of his life with? How could Eddie live with that? What would Eddie have to do? Except for live as their third wheel for the rest of his life.

 

“Buck?” Eddie called out, his voice rough.

 

“Downstairs!” came the reply.

 

Eddie exhaled, relief flooding his chest. At least Buck hadn’t just… left.

 

God. When had he gotten so needy?

 

Footsteps thudded softly on the stairs, and then Buck appeared. He leaned against the wall next to the stairs with a soft smile, crossing his arms. The motion made his biceps bulge.

 

“Hey there.”

 

Eddie rubbed his eyes, voice low. “Hi.”

 

“You, uh… you okay?”

 

Eddie snorted. “I can’t feel my legs. My ass is sore. Whole body’s wrecked. But yeah, I’m good. Perfect. You?”

 

Buck gave a small, sheepish smile. “I’m uh, fine. Was just downstairs making breakfast. What time do you need to get Chris?”

 

Eddie furrowed his brows, brain still foggy. “I’m not even sure, honestly.”

 

All the kids were having a sleepover at Bobby and Athena’s—the only reason any of them had been able to go out last night without a second thought.

 

“Right. Okay. Okay, cool. No rush then.”

 

Eddie narrowed his eyes. Buck was fidgeting. Rambling. Definitely acting weird.

 

“Why are you being weird?” he asked, already suspicious.

 

“I’m not being weird,” Buck said, way too fast. “Just wondering when you need to leave.”

 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “You trying to kick me out or something?”

 

“What? No! No, of course not!” Buck blurted, flushing. “I just meant… I want to feed you, but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay.”

 

Eddie stared at him for a long beat. Buck was definitely acting off. But… whatever that was, it could wait.

 

“Shut up and get over here,” he said, patting the bed beside him. “I hate waking up alone.”

 

Buck let out a quiet laugh and finally stepped forward, climbing into the bed—fully clothed, unfortunately.

 

“You really need a shower, dude.”

 

“Don’t call me dude,” Eddie grumbled, already curling into him.

 

Buck’s arms slid around him without hesitation.

 

“You really need a shower, baby.”

 

Eddie hummed against Buck’s chest, already sinking back into sleep with Buck’s heartbeat under his ear. Wrapped in his arms, everything else could wait.

 

*

 

When Eddie blinked awake again, the room was bathed in soft afternoon light. He reached for his phone—probably left on the nightstand by Buck that morning—and checked the time. Nearly half past four. He shifted slightly and felt the warmth beside him. Buck was still asleep next to him, chest rising and falling steadily.

 

Eddie turned on his side, phone forgotten in his hand, and watched him in quiet awe.

 

He hadn’t seen Buck like this in what felt like forever. No furrowed brow, no restless twitching fingers, no tension radiating from a brain that never stopped spinning. No shields, no second-guessing, no ghosts clawing at the edges. Just Buck. Peaceful.

 

Eddie’s heart tugged. God, I love you, he thought before he could stop himself. He swallowed, and turned back to put his phone back, but his eyes fell on a notification from hours earlier.

 

Maddie: Morning! Hope you’re not hungover! Are you able to talk face-to-face after dinner?

 

Eddie frowned.

 

Maddie wanted to meet with him? Why?

 

He stared at the screen, still confused. Maybe she had meant to send it to someone else?

 

Eddie: This is Eddie.

 

A few moments later he got a reply.

 

Maddie: I know xD

 

Maddie: Just wanted to talk

 

Maddie: Alone

 

Eddie sat upright.

 

Alone?

 

Okay, now he was definitely panicking. His stomach flipped. His pulse picked up speed. What if she knew? What if she wanted to tell him—gently, politely—that Buck didn’t need this right now? That Eddie was a distraction. That Buck needed to focus on healing, not… sinfully incredible sex and an emotionally complicated maybe-something.

 

No. No, that was ridiculous.

 

She was Buck’s sister, yeah. But she didn’t have psychic powers. And there was no way she knew what had happened between them last night.

 

Still—his hands were suddenly a little sweaty.

 

He swallowed and tried to tamp down the rising nerves. He wouldn’t know anything until he met her. So, he forced himself to type a response.

 

Eddie: Sure. What time? Where?

 

Maddie: Nine? @ Jerry’s?

 

Eddie sent her a thumbs-up.

 

Maddie: Great! See you then :D

 

He exhaled slowly and set his phone back down.

 

Okay. He needed to get moving. Shower. Food. Buck needed to eat, too. Then they had to pick up Chris from Bobby and Athena’s. He had to think of something so Chris could stay with Buck.

 

And after that?

 

Whatever the hell Maddie wanted to talk about.

 

Alone.

 

Great.

 

Buck stirred beside him with a sleepy little noise, stretching languidly as he rubbed at his eyes. He blinked up at Eddie, slow and soft, like his mind was still catching up to the morning light.

 

The sight was adorable.

 

“Hey,” he rasped, his voice thick with sleep. His fingers traced a lazy line along Eddie’s bare back, drawing a quiet shiver from him.

 

“Hi,” Eddie breathed, the word catching somewhere between a smile and a sigh.

 

Buck sat up, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Eddie’s lips—a whisper of warmth. “You good?” he murmured, brushing his fingers through Eddie’s hair with easy affection.

 

Eddie closed his eyes and tilted into the touch, a content hum escaping him in reply. The warmth of Buck’s palm sliding through his hair was steadying in a way nothing else had been since last night.

 

The silence hung between them for a beat, soft and comfortable but weighted. Eddie could feel it shifting around them, like it was waiting for one of them to finally speak.

 

Buck’s fingers slowed. “Can we talk about last night?” he asked, voice low but unmistakably sure. “Not to pick it apart. Just… to check in.”

 

Eddie’s breath caught, then he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he said, because Buck deserved that. Because heneeded it too, even if he hadn’t realized it until the words landed.

 

Buck adjusted slightly, facing him more directly. His gaze didn’t press, but it held. And that was the thing about Buck—he saw him. Not just Eddie Diaz, the soldier or the father or the man who didn’t know how to ask for help until he was breaking. Buck saw beneath all of that. And still stayed.

 

“I’m glad you said yellow,” Buck said gently. “Really glad.”

 

Eddie swallowed. His fingers twitched against the sheet. “I didn’t say it because I wanted to stop,” he said, eyes flicking up briefly to meet Buck’s. “It wasn’t pain or the—what we were doing. I just—” His voice faltered. “I needed to see you.”

 

Buck’s expression softened, something deep and warm flickering across his features. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I figured. Not right away, but… you pulled me back to you. And I got it.”

 

Eddie let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, though it wasn’t funny. It was relief. “I was spiraling a little,” he admitted. “It was—too much. Not the scene, just… everything. You, me, all of it. It felt like falling, and the only thing I could reach for was you.”

 

Buck shifted closer, his hand curling gently around the back of Eddie’s neck. “That’s exactly what a safeword is for, Eds. You didn’t fail. You didn’t disappoint me.” His thumb stroked behind Eddie’s ear, grounding him all over again. “You trusted me. That means everything.”

 

Eddie blinked against the sudden sting in his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be mad,” he said, voice quiet.

 

Buck’s eyes went wide, incredulous. “Mad? God, no. Eddie—” He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s. “You saying yellow told me you were still with me. That you trusted me enough to say hey, I need you differently right now. You could’ve pushed through and shut down. But you didn’t.”

 

“I didn’t want to disappoint you,” Eddie whispered.

 

“You can never disappoint me.” Buck’s voice was a promise. “As long as you’re honest with me.”

 

And there it was. Honesty. Because Eddie wasn’t honest with Buck. Not really. He hadn’t said he didn’t want to be just best friends anymore. Hadn’t admitted this wasn’t about needing a release—it was about needing him. Hadn’t confessed that somewhere along the line he’d fallen for Buck so completely he didn’t know where one of them ended and the other began. He didn’t tell him he was in love with him.

 

They stayed like that for a while, breathing each other in, the morning wrapping around them like a softer version of last night’s intensity. There was no judgment in Buck’s touch. No shame. Just quiet acceptance.

 

After a moment, Eddie murmured, “You know, technically, this is only the second time we’ve had sex.”

 

Buck pulled back just enough to grin, a little lopsided and a little sleepy. “Well, technically, we were trying to make up for lost time.”

 

Eddie chuckled, a bit shy, a bit sheepish. “Yeah, you really did.”

 

Buck’s grin softened, eyes flicking over Eddie’s face like he was memorizing him all over again. “You okay?” he asked, quieter this time.

 

Eddie nodded, though his body still felt like it had been taken apart and stitched back together. Sore in ways he hadn’t expected.

 

“I think so,” he said honestly. “Just... a little wrecked.”

 

Buck’s smile turned sympathetic, and Eddie watched him war with the urge to tease or coo at him. He held back. Buck always knew when to switch gears. Always knew how to read him, even when Eddie didn’t say much at all.

 

“You were incredible last night,” Buck said, thumb brushing gently along Eddie’s cheekbone. “Every part of you. And I mean it, Eds—thank you for trusting me with that.”

 

Eddie’s throat felt tight again, so he just nodded. He hadn’t known how badly he needed to hear that until Buck gave it to him without being asked.

 

Buck tilted his head, gaze flicking toward the window where the sun had fully risen hours ago. “We should get moving at some point. Start the day. Rehydrate. Maybe eat something.”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, though he made no effort to move. His body ached in too many places. His muscles felt like overcooked noodles.

 

Buck chuckled under his breath, watching the way Eddie laid down again. “Jesus, you’re wrecked and lazy.”

 

“I’m not lazy,” Eddie said, half-heartedly indignant.

 

“Uh-huh. You’re just letting me admire my handiwork, then?” Buck smirked, pulling the duvet a bit back and running a hand down Eddie’s side. “You’re covered in me. All marked up.”

 

A flush crawled up Eddie’s neck, but he didn’t deny it. If anything, something in his chest fluttered at the possessiveness in Buck’s tone. Not the controlling kind—but the kind that said mine without needing permission.

 

Buck leaned in again, kissed the space just below his ear. “You want help in the shower?”

 

Eddie blinked. “What?”

 

“You look like you’re one wrong move away from collapsing.” Buck raised an eyebrow. “Let me help.”

 

“I can shower by myself.”

 

“You can. But why would you, when I’m offering to carry your bruised-up ass in there and wash you like the delicate flower you are?”

 

Eddie narrowed his eyes, trying not to smile. “You’re such an asshole.”

 

“And yet,” Buck said, grinning, “here you are. Sore because of me.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes and groaned, pushing at Buck’s chest half-heartedly. “Fine. But no carrying. My dignity’s barely hanging on as it is.”

 

Buck gave him a mock salute. “No carrying. Scout’s honor.”

 

He stood and reached a hand out, palm open, waiting.

 

Eddie stared at it for a second—at the man standing there, golden in the afternoon light, offering not just a hand but everything. Offering care. Patience. Gentleness. Understanding.

 

He took it.

 

*

 

Maddie cradled her glass in both hands, letting the coolness seep into her skin. She hadn’t taken a sip. Just held it like it was anchoring her to the moment. The dim lighting softened the sharp edges of the bar, but not the sharpness in her eyes—eyes that, despite their different color,  looked a little too much like Buck’s when he was trying not to fall apart.

 

They sat in the corner, tucked away from the laughter and clinking glasses. And Eddie knew—he knew—that whatever she was about to say would ruin him.

 

“I love my brother,” Maddie said, voice raw but steady, like she’d been rehearsing the line in her head for too long. “I know everyone says that, but with Buck... it’s different. It has to be.”

 

She laughed softly, without humor. “I raised him. Or tried to. When I wasn’t running from my own mess. And I’ve spent years watching him try to hold everything together—like if he just keeps smiling, keeps saying yes, people won’t see how much he’s bleeding inside.”

 

Her voice cracked, just slightly, but she recovered fast. “He’s never been good with boundaries. Still isn’t. But the thing is—he doesn’t think he’s allowed to have any. Somewhere along the way, he got it into his head that saying no means people leave. That if he ever disappoints someone, they’ll just... vanish.”

 

Eddie’s chest tightened. Maddie didn’t look at him. She was somewhere else now—maybe in a hospital room, maybe on the front porch of that haunted childhood home.

 

“You know, after I left home, I didn’t check in on him the way I should’ve. And our parents—” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “They made sure he knew where the blame belonged. Even when it didn’t.” She shook her head, tears now welling in her eyes. “And Buck, he just kept trying to be enough. For everyone.”

 

Her hands trembled slightly around the glass. “Remember when they all forgot Hen’s birthday?” she asked, her tone gentler now. “Buck spent hours in her yard. He did her laundry, Eddie. He pulled weeds like his life depended on it. And everyone thought it was just a sweet and funny overcorrection, but I know what it really was.”

 

Her gaze finally met his, sharp and vulnerable all at once.

 

“He was terrified she wouldn’t love him anymore. So he went into overdrive, trying to prove he deserved to be part of her life. Your lives. That’s who he is. That’s how deep it runs. That fear.”

 

A tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with the sleeve of her cardigan. “People think Buck’s just the golden retriever, the chaos tornado, the guy who jumps into fire for fun. But they don’t see the way he tears himself apart when he thinks he’s let someone down.”

 

Eddie clenched his jaw. Every word hit like shrapnel.

 

“And then there’s this,” Maddie said quietly. “This thing with your parents... when he told me, Eddie, I couldn’t breathe. I was honestly floored. Because it was the first time I’ve ever seen him choose himself. Stand up. Set a boundary.”

 

“And sure he slightly overcorrected with you party.” She took a breath, shaky but determined. “But the second he said it, I knew how hard it must’ve been. How much it hurt him to do it. Especially when it came to you.”

 

Eddie dropped his gaze to the table, shame crawling up his spine.

 

“I was so proud of him,” she whispered. “But I was also scared. Because I know Buck. I know how much he internalizes. If he hadn’t come to me—if he’d kept all that hurt inside just to protect you—he would’ve drowned in it.”

 

Her voice was shaking now, but still she pressed on.

 

“I’m not saying this to guilt you. Or make you feel like you have to fix everything. But Eddie...” Her tone softened, the big sister in her fully present now. “He loves you. More than he knows what to do with. And if you love him back, really love him, then be honest. Be careful with him.”

 

She looked down at her hands, voice growing small.

 

“He breaks quieter than people expect. And when he does... he doesn’t always know how to ask for help.”

 

Eddie’s throat closed around something heavy. She wasn’t saying it to accuse him. She was saying it because she knew the damage he was capable of causing—even without meaning to.

 

She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze—gentle, forgiving, terrifyingly real.

 

“If you’re going to hold his heart,” she said softly, “make sure you don’t drop it.”

 

Maddie’s fingers started to slip away, like the moment had lasted a second too long. She pulled in a shaky breath, blinking fast—trying to reel herself back in. She even offered a crooked, watery smile.

 

“God, sorry. I’m not usually this... intense after half a drink. I swear I used to be fun.” Her voice wobbled through the joke, but she tried to play it off with a quiet laugh, wiping at the corner of her eye with her sleeve again.

 

But Eddie didn’t let go.

 

He gently wrapped his hand around hers again, anchoring it to the table. His grip wasn’t tight—just firm enough to say: No. I heard you. I’m still here.

 

Maddie stilled.

 

“You’re wrong, you know,” Eddie said softly.

 

Her brow furrowed. “About what?”

 

“You’re not too intense,” he said, eyes meeting hers. “You’re just... honest. And you love him more than anyone else ever has. Probably more than anyone ever could.”

 

He paused, letting that truth settle between them like smoke.

 

“I’ve always known Buck was big-hearted,” he continued, quieter now. “That he gives everything without holding anything back. But hearing it from you? It’s different. It’s heavier. Because you’ve seen parts of him no one else ever has. The parts he hides even from me.”

 

His voice cracked slightly, but he didn’t look away.

 

“And I don’t want to be another person who makes him feel like he has to earn love. He shouldn’t have to prove anything to me.”

 

Maddie looked like she might cry again. Her other hand had instinctively moved to cover the one Eddie held.

 

“I care about him,” Eddie said, the words coming slowly, like peeling open something that hadn’t seen light in a long time. “In ways I don’t even know how to explain most days.”

 

He exhaled, letting the truth settle in his chest.

 

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I don’t always say the right thing. But I’m trying. I’m trying to be what he deserves.”

 

Maddie stared at him, silent for a long moment. Then her smile returned—smaller this time, more real. And laced with something achingly gentle.

 

“You’re getting there,” she whispered. “Just don’t let fear keep you from saying what he needs to hear. What you probably need to hear back.”

 

Eddie bit his lip, his eyes filling with tears as well. “I love him, Maddie,” he shrugged, the first tear rolling over his cheek.

 

It startled him—how easy it was to say, how impossible it had felt before. The truth of it sat heavy on his chest, not like a burden, but like something he’d been holding in for too long and had finally set down.

 

Maddie’s breath hitched. Her face crumpled, just for a second, before she squeezed his hand again.

 

“I know,” she said softly. “Of course you do.”

 

She said it like she’d always known. Like maybe she’d been waiting for him to catch up.

 

“It’s in the way you look at him,” she continued, voice thick. “The way you talk about him when you don’t think you’re saying much at all. I mean—he got you to buy a couch you hate.” She gave a teary laugh. “You let him rearrange your life one chaotic moment at a time and you didn’t even blink.”

 

Eddie huffed out a laugh through the tears, lowering his gaze.

 

“It’s terrifying,” he admitted. “Loving him like this.”

 

“I know,” she said again, this time with something like a sad smile. “But it’s also Buck. And if there’s one person in this world who would never throw your heart back in your face, it’s him.”

 

Eddie’s throat closed up again, emotion threatening to take over. “I just don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to hurt him. And I don’t want to lose what we already have.”

 

“But you already crossed that line,” Maddie said gently. “We all saw you yesterday, you know. You just haven’t said it out loud to him yet. And trust me, Eddie—he knows. He’s just waiting for you to be ready.”

 

A beat passed.

 

“Don’t make him wait forever,” she added, voice soft but certain. “He’s worth the leap. And so are you.”

 

Eddie nodded, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. He didn’t trust himself to speak yet.

 

Maddie leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Okay,” she sniffed, swiping under both eyes with her sleeves. “That was a lot. If I cry any more, they’re going to cut me off and send me to emotional rehab.”

 

Eddie let out a soft laugh, and Maddie smiled—this time a little brighter.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Please, I don’t know how you do it. I’d have smothered him with a pillow by now. You’re the only one who could ever handle the full Evan Buckley experience without burning out.”

 

Eddie laughed again, and somehow, that made the ache in his chest a little easier to bear.

 

They sat in silence for a while longer, their drinks still mostly untouched, the weight between them finally starting to settle into something more manageable.

 

And Eddie knew, when he left this bar, he couldn’t keep dancing around it anymore. Buck deserved to hear it.

 

*

 

Okay. Change of plans.

 

There was just no right moment to give Buck a full love-confession and hope Maddie was right—that he loved him back. So, Eddie had decided to kind of ease into it.

 

Not by accident. Not exactly with a strategy, either. Just… gradually. A shift, so subtle it could be denied if it blew up in his face.

 

The first time he did it, it was over takeout.

 

They were sitting on the couch, Buck still wearing his post-shift hoodie, hair damp from the shower he’d taken at Eddie’s place. Chris had gone to bed early after movie night, leaving the two of them with half empty Chinese containers and the low hum of the dishwasher in the background.

 

“Did you get a haircut?” Eddie asked casually, poking at his noodles with a chopstick.

 

Buck blinked. “Uh. Yeah. Yesterday.”

 

“It looks good. Brings out your eyes.”

 

The chopsticks in Buck’s hand paused mid-air. “My—what?”

 

Eddie shrugged, keeping his face neutral as he twirled some lo mein like it was just any Tuesday. “Your eyes. They look more blue, or something. Just saying.”

 

He didn’t even look up as he said it, which made Buck short-circuit for a moment before mumbling, “Thanks,” and shoving rice into his mouth like it might protect him.

 

Eddie hid his grin by sipping his soda.

 

After that, it became a rhythm.

 

“You look nice today,” Eddie said a week later, when Buck showed up in a soft navy t-shirt and jeans. No reason for the compliment. No special event. Just the door opening and Eddie saying it like it was the weather.

 

“Uh. Thanks?” Buck scratched the back of his neck, awkward and flushed, like he hadn’t been told he looked nice by a hundred people before. “I—uh, this shirt is clean.”

 

“I figured,” Eddie said, deadpan. Then he smiled. “Still. Looks good on you.”

 

Another time, they were at the grocery store of all places, and Buck made some joke about his snack choices, laughing at himself.

 

“I know I eat like a teenage boy,” Buck said, gesturing to his cart full of chips and frozen pizza.

 

Eddie tilted his head. “I like that about you.”

 

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, and then squinted. “That I eat like a teenage boy?”

 

“That you don’t try to be someone you’re not.”

 

“Oh.” Buck blinked again. “That’s… really nice, actually.”

 

Eddie just pushed the cart forward. “Well, it’s true.”

 

And Buck followed, with that same confused crease in his brow and a faint pink rising in his cheeks.

 

Sometimes Eddie would text him after a call: You were incredible today. Brave as hell.

 

And Buck would reply with something like u okay? Or thank you..?

 

Other times it was in person. Quiet. Offhanded.

 

“You know,” Eddie said one afternoon, helping Buck carry a stack of tools at the station. “You’ve got a really calming presence when Chris is upset.”

 

Buck looked like Eddie had just handed him a live wire.

 

“I—what?”

 

“You always know what to say. Makes a difference.” Eddie nodded once, then walked off to put the tools away like he hadn’t just dropped a grenade and left it behind.

 

Buck stood there for a solid thirty seconds, processing, lips slightly parted.

 

And sometimes, it slipped into their goodbyes.

 

“Alright,” Buck would say, reaching for his jacket. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Great. Love ya. See you tomorrow.”

 

Buck would freeze halfway into his sleeve. “What?”

 

“I said I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“No, before that.”

 

Eddie turned away with a tiny smirk. “Don’t be weird.”

 

Buck stood there like a man rethinking every interaction they’d ever had.

 

It was subtle. Just enough to be brushed off. Nothing you could call out without sounding a little desperate.

 

And that was the plan.

 

Not that Eddie thought Buck would reject him—at least not in the cruel way. But Buck didn’t always see what was right in front of him. Sometimes it took a little repetition. A little pressure. So, Eddie gave him that. Compliments he meant but never used to say. A tone that said you matter more than I ever said out loud. A warmth that no longer came with excuses.

 

He saw how Buck looked at him when he thought Eddie wasn’t paying attention. How he lingered after the “love ya” moments, like he wanted to ask something but didn’t know how.

 

Good.

 

Let it simmer.

 

Let him wonder.

 

Because Eddie had made up his mind now. No big speeches. No sudden declarations. Just this slow, steady tide pulling Buck closer, until one day—

 

He’d look around and realize he’d already been caught.

 

And hopefully, he wouldn’t want to leave.

Chapter 23

Notes:

:)

fyi: there are gonna be thirty chapters and im going on vacation on saturday, so i'll try my best to update regularly but can't promise anything <3

Buck looked up from his food.

 

Brunch at Athena and Bobby’s has been a Sunday tradition for the past few years. Normally, May and Harry would’ve been there too, but May was tied up with college work, and Harry was spending the week with his dad and David.

 

Warm syrup clung to golden waffles, bacon curled in crispy little ribbons, and sunlight spilled lazily through the kitchen window. Buck was halfway through his second cup of coffee and already well into his fifth rant about Eddie Diaz.

 

Not that he noticed.

 

"I'm just saying," Buck said, gesturing with his fork for emphasis, "who reorganizes someone else's spice rack without permission? And not even badly — no — he alphabetized it. Who does that? I found oregano in under three seconds. It was insulting."

 

Across the table, Athena raised a single, elegant brow. "Sounds like a tragedy, Buck."

 

"It is, Athena," Buck huffed, tearing off a piece of waffle like it had personally offended him. "And then he acts like he's doing me a favor. 'Buck, you’re the kind of guy who stores paprika next to powdered sugar.' Like that’s a crime or something."

 

Bobby, quiet as ever, took a bite of toast and chewed slowly. Watching. Always watching.

 

"And don’t get me started on how he just—he just appears in my apartment sometimes. Like he has some sixth sense for when I’m about to have a mental breakdown. Which is fine, great, he's always there. He brings beer, he brings Chris. The other day he brought leftover enchiladas and I swear to God, I almost proposed right there—not that I would. Obviously. That’d be weird.”

 

He laughed. Alone.

 

Athena stared over the rim of her mug. Bobby reached for the butter.

 

“I mean, he gets me, you know? Like yesterday, I was spiraling about this new therapy thing with Frank, and he just—he didn’t say anything. Just bumped his shoulder into mine and handed me one of those awful chocolate protein bars I pretend to like because he keeps buying them, and I ate it. Like an idiot. While he smirked.”

 

"Boy," Athena said, slowly setting her mug down, "if you talk any more about Eddie Diaz, I’m gonna have to invite him here myself and officiate the wedding on this table."

 

Buck blinked. “What? No. Come on, Athena. We’re just— He’s my best friend.”

 

Bobby let out a sound that was halfway between a grunt and a laugh. “Have you talked to Eddie about this?”

 

Buck’s brow furrowed. “About what?”

 

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, not for Athena and Bobby, at least. Athena picked up her coffee again, giving a dramatic little sigh like she couldn’t believe she had to sit through this level of obliviousness before noon.

 

Bobby wiped his hands on a napkin, looked Buck dead in the eye, and said, “Remember when I told you you don’t talk to the women you date? Apparently, it’s the same for the men.”

 

Buck opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

 

“Wait, you think I’m dating Eddie?”

 

Athena didn’t even look up. “If that man ever sets boundaries, I hope they name a holiday after him.”

 

“I’m not dating Eddie,” Buck insisted, looking back and forth between them. “We’re just... you know. Hanging out. Being there for each other. Taking care of Chris. The normal stuff.”

 

Bobby and Athena stared at him in tandem. Silent. Knowing.

 

Buck shifted in his seat, suddenly very interested in his coffee. “…It’s fine. We’re fine.”

 

Athena reached over and patted his hand with the sort of dry, maternal sympathy that said you poor, sweet disaster.

 

“Well,” she said, “just let us know what colors you want for the napkins.”

 

Buck gave a shaky laugh and picked at his bacon like it might answer for him. “You guys are being ridiculous. Eddie’s just… Eddie.”

 

Athena tilted her head, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Just Eddie, who alphabetizes your spices, reads your moods like a weather map, and makes sure you eat on days you’d rather crawl into your couch and disappear.”

 

Buck opened his mouth to argue. Came up empty. Instead, he muttered, “He likes order.”

 

“He likes you,” Athena corrected, sweet but pointed.

 

Buck snorted. “Yeah, well. He has a funny way of showing it. The other day he roasted me for thirty solid minutes because I forgot to put the wet clothes in the dryer and they got mildew-y. Like I don’t already know I’m a disaster.”

 

Bobby hummed. “Maybe he knows you’ll listen when he says it.”

 

Buck blinked at him. “Is that a compliment or—?”

 

“Take it how you want,” Bobby said, reaching for the orange juice.

 

Buck leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his waffle forgotten and soggy. “It’s not like that,” he said after a beat. “It’s just—we’ve known each other for years. We’ve been through so much. He knows me. That’s all.”

 

Athena looked at Bobby. Bobby looked at Athena.

 

Without breaking eye contact, she said, “Sounds like my first marriage, minus the emotional availability.”

 

Buck rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You two really think you’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

 

“No,” Bobby said, calmly. “But you don’t, and that’s what’s worrying.”

 

Buck reached for his coffee, only to find it empty. He sighed, holding it out toward Athena wordlessly.

 

She raised a brow. “You think I’m your waitress now?”

 

“Eddie always refills my cup,” Buck muttered under his breath, then paused, realizing.

 

Athena just stared. Bobby folded his napkin.

 

“…Okay,” Buck said quickly. “That didn’t mean anything.”

 

“Didn’t it?” Bobby asked.

 

“I mean—” Buck laughed nervously, “he does this thing where he makes coffee exactly how I like it. One sugar, splash of almond milk. I didn’t even tell him. He just—figured it out.”

 

“Oh, honey,” Athena said, and Buck wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt more simultaneously comforted and judged in his life.

 

“I’m telling you,” Buck insisted, pointing a finger like it would help his case, “we’re just friends. That’s it. We hang out. We cook. We argue over home improvement shows. He judges my laundry habits. I judge his obsession with folding T-shirts in thirds. It’s normal.”

 

Bobby raised a hand. “Hey, no judgment here. Just wondering if you’ve actually had a conversation with him about all of this. About what you want. What he wants.”

 

Buck looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would we? Nothing’s changed.”

 

Another long pause. Then Bobby, casually: “Do you fall asleep at his place more than your own now?”

 

“…That’s not relevant.”

 

Athena grinned into her cup. “Uh-huh. And does Chris call you anything yet? Uncle Buck, maybe? Daddy #2?”

 

Buck’s face flushed crimson. “Okay, I’m leaving.” He pushed his chair back, standing up with mock indignation that couldn’t quite hide the mortified smile tugging at his lips. “You two are the worst.”

 

Athena was already waving him off. “Go call your friend, Evan.”

 

Bobby offered a rare smirk. “Just… don’t wait too long to figure it out, Buck.”

 

Buck lingered in the doorway, his keys already in hand. “It’s not like that,” he said again, softer this time, less certain.

 

And Athena, bless her, just sighed and muttered, “Boy, the day you wake up and realize what that is, I hope someone’s filming.”

 

Buck left with a full stomach, a flustered heart, and a very inconvenient itch to see Eddie.

 

*

 

Buck didn’t even knock. He shoved the door open like it had personally offended him, barely remembering to shut it behind him as he stormed into Eddie’s living room.

 

Eddie was on the couch, calm as ever, folding a stack of laundry like a man with no concept of chaos. A white T-shirt draped over his knee, his hands working in that slow, precise rhythm Buck had watched a thousand times and never really processed.

 

“Okay, so Bobby and Athena are unhinged,” Buck announced, still riding the tail end of indignation from brunch. “Like, absolutely losing it.”

 

Eddie didn’t even flinch. “Hi, Buck.”

 

“Don’t ‘hi, Buck’ me,” Buck said, pacing now, hands flying. “I was just telling them about the spice rack thing, your spice rack thing, by the way, and suddenly Athena’s planning a wedding and Bobby’s throwing out dating advice like he’s got a license for it.”

 

Eddie lifted a sock and folded it in half. Calm. Measured. “What did they say?”

 

“They said—” Buck stopped short, throwing his hands up. “They think we’re dating, man. Like. Me and you. You and me.”

 

Eddie’s brow lifted just slightly, mouth tugging into a thoughtful little line. “Huh.”

 

“Huh? That’s it?” Buck nearly tripped over a throw pillow. “You’re not even a little shocked?”

 

Eddie shrugged. “Not really.”

 

Buck blinked. “Okay, wait—what?”

 

Eddie didn’t look up, still folding. “I mean. You spend more time here than at your own place. We co-parent a little. We cook together. Sometimes fall asleep on the couch. Sometimes in the same bed. Honestly, if I wasn’t me, I’d assume we were dating too.” He shrugged.

 

Buck opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “…Okay, yeah, but we’re not, right?”

 

Eddie finally looked up. Met his eyes. “No,” he said simply. “But I don’t think it’s that crazy.”

 

Buck’s stomach did a weird little somersault. “You don’t?”

 

What was going on lately with him?

 

Eddie smirked faintly. “You’re exactly my type, Buck. If I didn’t know you the way I do, I’d probably have asked you out already.”

 

Buck’s heart exploded.

 

“Wh—what?” he said, and it came out thin and breathless and not at all casual, the way he meant it to.

 

Eddie was back to folding, like he hadn’t just set Buck’s world on fire with a few quiet words. “I mean it. You’re funny, good with Chris, easy on the eyes—don’t let it go to your head—but yeah. I’d date you… In some parallel universe.”

 

Buck could feel his pulse in his throat.

 

And then Eddie added, soft, almost distracted: “But you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t want to mess that up. You deserve someone who sees you — all of you — and doesn’t hesitate.”

 

Buck stood there, hands limp at his sides, completely wrecked by the tenderness of that. His heart was screaming. His brain was short-circuiting. And still, he said, “Yeah. Totally. Of course.”

 

But the words didn’t match the look on his face. Or the ache blooming quietly in his chest.

 

Did he actually want to date Eddie?

 

Eddie held up a pair of boxers. “You gonna help me fold or just stand there having a crisis?”

 

Buck walked over on autopilot. Sat down next to him, picked up a hoodie from the pile. Folded it wrong.

 

Eddie laughed softly and bumped his shoulder. “That’s a war crime.”

 

Buck smiled, shaky. “I’ll do better.”

 

Eddie leaned in, just enough that their knees brushed. “You always do.”

 

And they sat like that, shoulder to shoulder, folding laundry in the soft quiet of the afternoon. Two best friends, not dating, not talking about the thing they weren’t doing.

 

Buck folded sweatpants, badly. Again. Eddie didn’t correct him this time.

 

He could feel it crawling in—the thought. Not even a clear one, just a slow, creeping warmth behind his ribs that made everything a little louder. The kind of warmth that said: You want this. You want him.

 

He needed a distraction. Now.

 

“Where’s Chris, anyways?” Buck asked, voice sharp with effort. Probably should’ve asked that before barging in to deliver a romantic comedy monologue about how people think they’re in love.

 

Eddie didn’t even glance up from the socks. “He’s at the park with Jordan and Mateo. Probably eating too many ice pops and pretending he doesn’t know his stomach’s gonna hurt tonight.”

 

Buck laughed, short, forced. “Classic.”

 

And then he was quiet. Too quiet. His hands stilled. The words kept ringing in his ears, like some kind of emotional tinnitus.

 

You’re exactly my type, Buck.

 

If I didn’t know you the way I do, I’d probably have asked you out already.

 

You deserve someone who sees you — all of you — and doesn’t hesitate.

 

Someone who sees him. Someone who doesn’t hesitate. He looked over at Eddie. The easy set of his shoulders, the way he sat so close without thinking, the trust in it. The familiarity. The safety.

 

And beneath it, the pull Buck had spent so long ignoring—because Eddie was Eddie. Because they had something real and strong and rare, and Buck never wanted to risk it. And Eddie had been straight for the past eight years. Or well… not out of the closet.

 

I’d date you.

 

His heart thudded.

 

He’d always brushed it off—the way Eddie took care of him, the long glances, the sleepovers that ended up with them tangled in the sheets and pretending it didn’t mean more than it was supposed to. Buck had labeled it all as comfort, closeness, best friends.

 

But what if he’d been lying to himself?

 

What if Athena and Bobby were right?

 

What if everyone had been right except him?

 

“Buck?”

 

He blinked. Eddie was watching him now, eyebrows knit together in quiet concern.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Buck said too quickly. “Yeah. Totally. I’m just—uh. Waffles. Sugar crash. You know how it is.”

 

Eddie gave him a look. The one that said I know you’re lying but I’m letting you have it for now. And that just made Buck’s heart stutter worse.

 

Because Eddie knew everything. Knew when he was spiraling, when he was tired, when he needed space and when he needed someone to crash in beside him and not say anything at all. Eddie knew all of it.

 

And still wanted him around.

 

Still said you’re my type.

 

Buck’s throat felt tight.

 

But… instead of fleeing, he should lean into right? Acknowledge his feelings. Do the exact opposite of what he wanted to do: bolt. Frank would be proud of him.

 

He took a breath, turned slowly to Eddie, heart hammering against his ribs like it wanted to punch its way out. He was still folding his damn laundry.

 

“Eds,” Buck said, and his voice was low, rough, like it was being dragged up from someplace deep.

 

Eddie looked up from a pair of Chris’ jeans. “Yeah?”

 

Buck didn’t answer. He leaned in and kissed him. Not filthy, licking into his mouth like he loved. Not harsh, with a hand around Eddie’s throat. Not half-drunk, so they could laugh it off. No.

 

Buck kissed him like he meant it. Because he felt it.

 

His hand slid to the back of Eddie’s neck, finger curling in his hair. He tilted his head just right and deepened the kiss, like he was making up for every time he’d pulled away too soon. Every time he’d told himself it didn’t mean anything.

 

Eddie made a quiet sound, a soft exhale, nearly a groan, and Buck felt it vibrate through him, from mouth to spine. His hands came up to Buck’s face, gripping tight like he didn’t want Buck to stop.

 

So, Buck pressed in, lips parting, tongue sliding against Eddie’s with practiced ease. They knew each other, had done this before. But this felt different. It wasn’t about lust. About comfort. About trying new things. It was about want.

 

Real, terrifying, all-consuming want.

 

He kissed Eddie like he wanted him to know, like he needed him to feel everything Buck didn’t have the courage to say.

 

When they broke apart , it was because they needed air. Buck’s chest was heaving, forehead pressed against Eddie’s, both of them breathless.

 

Eddie was staring at him. Wide-eyed. Pink-cheeked. Soft in a way Buck had never fully let himself take in before.

 

For a beat, they just breathed together.

 

Then Eddie’s lips curved, and he said, “So… brunch went well?”

 

Buck let out a laugh. He dropped his forehead fully to Eddie’s shoulder, hiding the way a blush was spreading over his cheeks. “God, I hate you.”

 

God, I love you.

 

Eddie chuckled, wrapping an arm around Buck’s back. “No, you don’t.”

 

He let himself melt there for a moment, eyes closing as Eddie’s fingers found the hem of his shirt and settled just underneath it, resting against the bare skin of his lower back. Light, familiar, grounding. It wasn’t new, and yet it felt new.

 

“Sorry for barging in and attacking you with feelings or whatever that was,” Buck mumbled against Eddie’s shirt.

 

Eddie’s voice was quiet, amused. “I’ve had worse things thrown at me.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “Once, Chris hurled a half-eaten grilled cheese at my face.”

 

Buck huffed out a laugh and leaned back just enough to meet his eyes. “Tough competition.”

 

Eddie grinned but the longer he looked at Buck, the more it faded. Until it wasn’t a smile anymore. Until they were just looking at each other, like it was the first time they were seeing each other.

 

He kissed Buck softly. Once. Then again. Slower. And when he pulled back, his voice was quiet, but steady. “Can we take this to my bedroom?”

 

Buck hummed in response, leaning in to mouth at the sharp line of Eddie’s jaw. His answer was clear in the way his fingers slid beneath the hem of Eddie’s shirt.

 

“I can’t stop thinking about last week,” Eddie whispered, almost like a confession.

 

Buck smiled against his skin. “What happened last week?” he asked, teasing, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into the side of Eddie’s neck.

 

Eddie shuddered.

 

“Buck,” he warned. “I’ve never come that many times.”

 

Buck leaned back slightly, amused, eyes bright. “That right?”

 

Eddie didn’t flinch. “Never understood how people could sob during sex,” he muttered. “Couldn’t sit straight for two days. Chim asked me what had crawled up my ass. I almost told him it was your cock.”

 

Buck snorted, head dropping to Eddie’s shoulder with a groan. “Traumatizing Chimney is bad for my health. He will retaliate.”

 

Eddie grinned. “Oh, come on. He and Maddie have sex. Where do you think Jee-Yun came from?”

 

Buck instantly slapped his hands over his own ears. “I don’t wanna hear that! Or think about it! Jee is my tiny princess and the stork dropped her from the clouds. End of discussion.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes affectionately. “Alright, alright. How about I give you an orgasm to make up for it?”

 

Buck raised a brow. “Has Hen talked to you about gay puberty yet?”

 

Eddie groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the couch. “She did.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you think I’m a teenager?” He tilted his head, giving Buck a dry look.

 

Buck grinned, shaking his head. “Think you’re bad? I was Buck 1.0 squared. The whole pool of people I could sleep with had expanded significantly.”

 

Eddie snorted. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t around for Buck 1.0,” he said, dragging a slow finger from Buck’s shoulder down the center of his chest.

 

“Yeah,” Buck murmured, catching Eddie’s hand before it could drift lower. “You wouldn’t have liked him.”

 

“I think I would’ve,” Eddie said, voice dipping into something warm and wicked, eyes glinting. “I think if I’d met Buck 1.0 back then, it wouldn’t have taken me three decades to figure myself out.”

 

Something passed between them. A flicker. A shift.

 

Then Eddie moved fast, straddling Buck’s lap in one smooth motion, knees on either side of his thighs. It made Buck suck in a breath. He liked the weight of him there, the feel of Eddie's hands braced against his chest, his breath ghosting over Buck’s lips. And if the amount of times Eddie had put himself in Buck’s lap was anything to go by, Eddie liked it too.

 

“Can I kiss you, sir?” Eddie whispered, lips hovering.

 

Buck just looked at him, blinking once. Then, somehow, managed to deflect like a disaster: “Do you think I have daddy issues?”

 

Eddie pulled back a fraction, brows knitting. “What?”

 

Buck’s smile turned sheepish. “I mean, do I?”

 

Eddie stared at him for a beat, then sighed. “I think your parents are horrible people. But I also think it’s probably not my place to say that out loud.”

 

So maybe we both have daddy issues.

 

I don’t.

 

What? You think I do?

 

God, I hope so.

 

Buck remembered saying that to Tommy once. Flirting, laughing. Never serious. He’d never mentioned Bobby to Tommy again. Never told him about how being fathered—finally—had unspooled something tight in his chest he hadn’t even known was choking him. He never talked to Tommy about his parents again.

 

Looking back now, Buck had expected Tommy to want to call him Daddy. Which… never happened. They didn’t talk during sex. Which had maybe been the problem.

 

Eddie kissed his lips softly. “Where’d you go just now?” he murmured against Buck’s lips.

 

Buck shook his head, eyes still shut. “Nowhere. Just… in my head.”

 

“Hmm.” Another kiss. Slower this time. Like a promise. “Wanna talk about it?”

 

Buck opened his eyes. There was nothing pushy in Eddie’s face, nothing expectant. Just space. Just the offer.

 

But Buck shook his head again.

 

He didn’t want to talk about Tommy. Wanted to keep him and everything that came with him miles away from this beautifully tangled mess with Eddie.

 

Then Eddie licked at the lobe of Buck’s ear, voice low and smug, “You’re a sadist. You know that?”

 

Buck exhaled sharply, the breath catching in his throat as his hands finally gripped Eddie’s ass, pulling him down, closer. Fuck. Why was he still wearing those goddamn jeans?

 

“Yeah?” Buck rasped against his skin.

 

“Hmh.” Eddie nipped his earlobe, just a sharp enough bite to make Buck twitch beneath him. “You kept me aching for weeks,” he whispered. “Begging you to fill me up.”

 

Buck froze, then grinned slow and dangerous. “Look at me and say that again,” Buck dared, pulling back just enough to see his face.

 

Eddie met his gaze, fire behind his eyes. But the moment he opened his mouth, his voice cracked and died on his tongue.

 

Buck’s grin widened. God, he was such a repressed little sub. So buttoned-up. So ready to fall apart the second someone called his bluff.

 

“Go on,” Buck said, brows raised, voice silky. “Tell me, Eds.”

 

Eddie tried again, lips parting—but nothing came out. His face flushed a deep, pretty red.

 

Buck chuckled darkly, leaned forward, breath ghosting over Eddie’s mouth. “Tell me how badly you need my cock. How you can’t stop thinking about last week. How fucking good I made you feel.” He dragged his fingers up Eddie’s back, slow and deliberate. “How you fucking thanked me for wrecking you. I told you I’d ruin you until you’d thank me. Hmm. Didn’t I?”

 

Eddie didn’t answer. He just bit his lip, listening to all the filth that left Buck’s mouth—and loving it.

 

“Answer me, Eddie.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard, his mouth twitching like he was still battling himself. Then, faint and shaky, “Or what?” He paused. “Sir.”

 

Buck's body reacted to that, low and visceral.

 

“Or I’ll have to discipline you,” he said, tone dropping with intent.

 

Eddie inhaled sharply. The sound was filthy, desperate. He licked his lips. “What would that look like?” he asked, voice tight.

 

Buck tilted his head, eyes glittering. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging a hand up under Eddie’s shirt, fingertips skating over warm skin. “That depends on how disobedient you feel like being tonight.”

 

A beat of silence fell between them, thick with tension and something darkly sweet. Then, so quiet Buck almost missed it—

 

“Very,” Eddie whispered.

 

Buck’s smile was slow, sharp. Dangerous in the best way.

 

“Well,” he said, voice all velvet threat, “I gave you a chance, didn't I?”

 

He gripped Eddie’s thighs firmly, standing with him still straddling his lap, effortlessly lifting him as he made his way toward the bedroom. Eddie’s breath hitched, hands clutching at his shoulders, but he didn’t protest. Of course he didn’t.

 

Once inside, Buck dropped Eddie onto the bed with a thud and a bounce. He stood at the edge, just looking at him—flushed, pupils blown wide. Gorgeous.

 

“Strip.”

 

Eddie hesitated, chest rising with shallow breaths.

 

Buck raised a brow. “We’re already adding to your punishment?”

 

Eddie scrambled to get his shirt off.

 

Buck chuckled low, letting the sound curl in the air between them like smoke. “That’s better.”

 

Once Eddie was down to just his jeans, Buck climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs, palms warm and slow as they ran up his bare chest.

 

“Hands above your head.”

 

Eddie obeyed immediately, stretching out against the mattress, wrists resting above him on the pillow. Buck leaned down, kissed the hollow of his throat, then murmured, “Don’t move them.”

 

Eddie’s breath stuttered. “Yes, sir.”

 

Buck reached into Eddie’s drawer, pulled out lube and the soft rope he’d tucked away weeks ago—half-hoping, half-planning. Eddie’s eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away. Didn’t ask. Didn’t even blink.

 

“You trust me?” Buck asked, knotting the ends with practiced ease.

 

Eddie nodded.

 

Buck tugged gently at his wrists, securing them to the headboard. “Words, Eds.”

 

“I trust you,” Eddie whispered, and meant it.

 

Buck kissed him again, deep and lingering, his hand trailing down Eddie’s chest, over his stomach, to the button of his jeans. He popped it open, slow, like he had all the time in the world. He slid Eddie’s jeans and boxers down his hips, baring him, and when Eddie lifted his hips to help, Buck slapped the inside of his thigh—not hard, just enough to make Eddie gasp.

 

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to help. You don’t get to touch. You’re mine to use, Eddie.”

 

Eddie moaned, the sound broken, needy. “Fuck.”

 

Buck grinned. “Language,” he said, even as he leaned in and bit at Eddie’s neck, sucking until a mark bloomed under his skin.

 

Eddie writhed beneath him, hips twitching, cock already hard and leaking against his stomach. So. Damn. Needy.

 

“You like being punished?” Buck asked, stroking a teasing finger along his length, never quite touching.

 

Eddie nodded frantically, wrists flexing against the binds. “Yes, sir.”

 

Buck smiled against his skin. “Good. Then you’re going to be such a good boy for me. And if you’re lucky—if you take it all—you’ll get to come, but only when I say so.”

 

His fingers danced teasingly around Eddie’s cock. His thighs. The creaks up to his hips. Around his belly button. Just enough to drive Eddie wild. The heat in his eyes was a fire Buck loved to stoke, watching him tremble against the restraint.

 

“Look at you,” Buck murmured, voice thick with possession. “All tied up and already dripping for me. I don’t even need to move and you’re begging.”

 

Eddie’s breath caught, hips twitching, the muscles desperate to move, to chase friction. But Buck’s hand came down sharply on his thigh with a sharp smack that echoed through the room.

 

Eddie moaned.

 

“Stay still,” Buck commanded. He leaned down, lips brushing Eddie’s temple, his voice a dark whisper. “You’re mine to control, Eddie. Not a single twitch unless I give you permission.” Then he leaned back again. “You like being punished,” he said, fingers ghosting over Eddie’s trembling cock, still not fully touching, teasing that raw edge. “So you take it. Every spank, every command.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched, voice ragged. “Yes, sir. Please.”

 

Buck’s hand came down again, firmer this time, stinging and hot, leaving a trail of heat and need. Eddie whimpered, hips bucking instinctively, but Buck caught him with a possessive grip.

 

Eddie’s wrists strained against the ropes, fingers curling, but he didn’t move. Not really. Not enough to disobey.

 

“Good boy,” Buck murmured against his skin, voice thick with approval. “Now stay still and take it all.”

 

Buck grabbed the lube, the cold slickness sliding over his palms before he straddled Eddie’s legs again, pinning him gently but firmly to the mattress. His hands were slow as they closed around Eddie’s cock—gripping, pulling, dragging skin over the swollen red head.

 

Eddie gasped sharply, but pressed his hips down, determined not to move—obedient to Buck’s command. His muscles trembled, straining against the restraint.

 

Buck’s other hand cupped and kneaded Eddie’s balls, warm and heavy in his palm, while his stroking hand kept a deliberate, slow rhythm—torturously slow. Every slow slide of his fingers dragged out Eddie’s need like a cruel game.

 

He watched Eddie’s eyes squeezed shut tight, like the sheer frustration physically burned. His fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists above his head, ropes biting red into his skin. And there, blooming on his neck—the dark, proud hickey Buck had left earlier.

 

God. He loved him.

 

“Open your eyes,” Buck murmured, voice rough, pushing away the rush of affection.

 

Eddie’s lids fluttered open—wide, obedient.

 

“Look at that cock, darling,” Buck purred low, voice thick with heat. “See how much you’re leaking, even though I’ve barely touched you?”

 

Eddie nodded, breath hitching, hips twitching despite himself.

 

Buck’s palm came down sharply on Eddie’s other thigh, the sting sharp and demanding. Eddie jerked, a startled gasp ripping free.

 

“Words,” Buck growled.

 

“Y-yessir,” Eddie stammered, voice quick.

 

“Tell me, Eddie… Are you just a cockdrunk slut for me?” Buck squeezed him hard—maybe too hard—his fist bruising, sending a sharp spike of pain through Eddie’s cock. The scream Eddie let out was raw, needy, and delicious.

 

A frantic nod. “Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, just for you, sir.”

 

Buck hummed in approval, never stopping that torturous stroke, the slow glide pulling Eddie tight. Then—suddenly—he jerked his hand up and down fast, ruthless, sending Eddie over the edge of desperate control.

 

He moaned, hips twitching in frantic, involuntary thrusts like they had a mind of their own.

 

Buck pulled his hand back, replacing it with a sharp pinch at Eddie’s nipple, eliciting a low, aching moan.

 

“What did I tell you?” Buck’s voice was a low threat, thick with promise.

 

“To stay still, sir,” Eddie swallowed hard.

 

“Then why the hell don’t you listen?”

 

“Because…” Eddie’s words stumbled, faltering like he knew the answer wouldn’t save him.

 

Buck leaned forward, eyes blazing as his breath brushed Eddie’s lips. “Let me tell you why.” He hummed darkly, voice dripping with possession: “Because you’re a desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

 

Eddie inhaled sharply. “Y-yes, sir.” His cheeks burned bright red.

 

Buck’s gaze pinned him like a spell. “Tell me.”

 

Eddie’s eyes flickered away, somewhere over Buck’s shoulder, to the ceiling. Then a soft, embarrassed mumble: “I’m a desperate little slut.”

 

Buck leaned down and kissed him, just a soft peck to the lips. “Good boy.” Then he shifted back, climbing off Eddie’s legs. The moment the warmth of his body disappeared, Eddie whined—a high, needy sound that went straight to Buck’s cock.

 

But Buck wasn’t feeling generous. Not yet.

 

He grabbed Eddie’s ankles and manhandled them up onto his shoulders, folding him open without ceremony. His gaze dropped immediately, dark and hungry, staring right at Eddie’s hole.

 

Eddie's legs reflexively tried to close, bashful, flushed, shy.

 

Buck growled low in his throat and shoved them open again. “Are you denying me what’s mine?”

 

Eddie’s hole fluttered at the words. A visible reaction. Buck smirked.

 

“N-no, sir. No,” Eddie stammered, panicked.

 

Buck hummed. “Huh. Almost looked like it.”

 

He let the moment hang, tension coiled.

 

“How about I tie your legs to the headboard too, since you can’t seem to keep yourself open for me?” His voice was smooth, cold, cruel.

 

Eddie visibly swallowed, bright red now. “I-I can’t, sir…”

 

Buck cocked a brow. “Yes, you can. And you will. Don’t make me remind you who this body belongs to.” He leaned closer, voice dark and reverent. “You should be in a fucking museum with how pretty that hole is. But then again—” Buck reached for the rope, smirking, “I don’t like people seeing what’s mine.”

 

In moments, he had Eddie’s legs tied wide and high, ankles secured to the headboard. Eddie was stretched open, helpless, trembling.

 

Fuck. He’d look great in shibari. Red rope all over his body. Leaving him immobile and open for Buck to play with. 

 

Buck reached down, grabbed the lube, and slicked his fingers again before sliding one deep inside Eddie’s ass. He gasped at the intrusion, but his body welcomed it. His hole swallowed him down like it had missed him.

 

“There you go,” Buck groaned, watching it suck around his finger. “So fucking eager.” His other hand found Eddie’s cock again, and he started stroking it in fast, sharp jerks to the rhythm of his finger.

 

Within seconds, Eddie had dissolved into a panting, desperate mess—hips twitching, legs straining, moans falling from his lips like prayers. He’d long forgotten his embarrassment.

 

Buck curled his finger, and Eddie’s head flung back against the pillows, eyes rolling back into his head.

 

“Sir—ah—Buck, I’m gonna—I can’t—!”

 

Buck immediately pulled both hands away.

 

Eddie cried out, a broken, feral sound, frustration pouring out of him.

 

Buck scratched softly at the sensitive undersides of Eddie’s thighs and asked casually, “You’re gonna what? Come? Did I give you permission, baby?”

 

Eddie’s chest heaved. “No, sir.”

 

Buck’s smile was slow, almost gentle. “Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

 

Eddie glared at him, or tried to—cheeks flushed, mouth parted, eyes watery and wild. He was tied open and on display, and yet somehow still tried to act like he had dignity.

Buck loved him so much it hurt.

 

Hs face went slack as Buck inserted two fingers inside him. And started to jerk him off again. 

 

The most beautiful sounds left Eddie’s mouth as he pushed his ass back against Buck’s fingers. Buck pulled both his hands back again, before he smacked Eddie’s ass. Hard. He saw the imprint of his hand bloom immediately. 

 

Eddie groaned frustrated. “What is wrong with you?” he bit. 

 

“What’s wrong with me?” Buck asked mock-gently. 

 

“You—” Eddie looked away, flustered. Which was ridiculous, considering his hole was still flexing open for Buck like it was begging.  

 

“Oh?” Buck said, tilting his head. “You’ve got something to say?”

 

Eddie muttered nothing but looked back.

 

So Buck leaned in, without warning, and licked a slow, wet stripe over his hole. His fist went back to jerking at Eddie’s cock.

 

“Fuck!” Eddie gasped.

 

“Language,” Buck tsked, licking again, slower this time.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie repeated, defiant, but broken, arms and legs flexing hard against the ropes.

 

Buck pushed his tongue inside Eddie’s tight hole in slow thrusts, groaning at the taste, the heat. In, out, in, out. And every time, Eddie’s body bucked helplessly in his restraints.

 

Every whimper, every moan, was music to Buck’s ear. And every single one of them shot straight to his own cock—very hard inside his jeans.

 

Eddie was wrecked. Wrecked and beautiful.

 

“I’m gonna come,” Eddie gasped. “I’m—I can’t—Buck, please—”

 

Buck pulled away. Just like that. He watched as Eddie cried out again, his thighs trembling.

 

He pushed Eddie’s cock forward with one finger and watched Eddie’s whole body tremble as it bounced back against his stomach. 

 

Buck hummed, licking his lips. “You haven’t earned an orgasm yet, Eddie.”

 

A broken whine crawled out of Eddie’s throat as Buck fisted his dick again with fast, punishing strokes. His whole body arched, fighting his orgasm.

 

And Buck stopped. Again. He leaned back to take in the sight: Eddie shaking, panting, jaw clenched, knuckles white above his head. Beautiful. Fucking breathtaking.

 

“Look at me,” Buck ordered. His voice cracked just slightly at the edges.

 

Eddie’s head snapped up, his eyes instantly finding Buck’s.

 

Wide. Glassy. Obedient.

 

“God,” Buck whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

 

Buck held that eye contact, gaze locked on Eddie’s wrecked, flushed face. He looked so close to the edge, panting, body twitching, lips trembling, hole fluttering around nothing.

 

Buck smirked and then leaned again. He licked slow, obscene circles around Eddie’s hole, teasing more than tasting now. His hand found Eddie’s cock again and resumed those fast, punishing strokes—tight, brutal, relentless.

 

Eddie cried out, voice already wrecked. “Please—please, sir—please let me come—”

 

Buck didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down.

 

He looked up the length of Eddie’s body, the ropes creaking as Eddie fought his own muscles not to move, not to thrust up, not to come. His cock was leaking uncontrollably.

 

“Listen to you,” Buck murmured, voice thick, teasing and dark. “Already crying for it. I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

 

He spit directly onto Eddie’s hole and smeared it in lazily with his thumb, pressing gently but not pushing in, watching how Eddie’s body clenched, begging for something—anything—more.

 

“You’re gonna come all over yourself, tied up like a whore, untouched inside, cock leaking, and still not allowed to finish.” He leaned in, his lips brushing the base of Eddie’s cock. “You know what that makes you, baby?”

 

Eddie couldn’t even answer—his breath was stuttering, chest heaving.

 

Buck grinned, cruel and adoring.

 

“It makes you mine. My cock-drunk little cumslut. That’s all you are right now, huh? Just a hole and a mess for me to play with.”

 

Eddie sobbed out a moan, loud and desperate. His hips bucked again, involuntary, desperate to come, to grind, to do something.

 

Buck pulled everything away.

 

Eddie screamed—frustrated, wrecked, trembling.

 

“Fuck!” His voice cracked on the word, head thrashing side to side against the pillow. “Please, I—I can’t—”

 

“You will,” Buck growled, reaching up to slap Eddie’s ass again, a satisfying smack ringing out. “You’ll hold it because I said so. You’ll fucking ache for me. You’ll be trembling, twitching, crying—but you will not come until I say so.”

 

Eddie was gasping now, tears starting to brim in his lashes. “I c-can’t—Buck—sir—please—”

 

“Oh, you’re close?” Buck cooed mockingly, fingers sliding down to lightly stroke his cock again. “Yeah? Want me to let you? Want me to let you come all over yourself like the needy little slut you are?”

 

Eddie nodded wildly, hips trying to thrust into the touch.

 

Buck stopped. Completely.

 

Eddie’s whole body spasmed from the denial.

 

Buck chuckled darkly and leaned in again, this time biting at Eddie’s inner thigh, leaving another mark. “Too fucking bad.”

 

Eddie wailed.

 

And Buck smiled, biting back a groan of his own as he watched his beautiful boy fall apart, his body shaking, tied up, wide open, edged within an inch of sanity.

 

Buck inserted three fingers hitting his prostate with every thrust, as he pumped Eddie cock. The precum, the lube, the sweat. Everything was making it fucking perfect.

 

He watched the moment it happened.

 

Eddie’s entire body jerked tight—spine arching, thighs trembling in their bonds. His mouth fell open in a breathless, silent scream as his cock twitched once… twice… and then—

 

He came.

 

Without permission. Without control.

 

Hot, desperate spurts of cum spilled across his chest, striping up his heaving torso, dripping down his trembling stomach. His body shuddered through it, betraying him, and Buck didn’t stop. Not even close.

 

His fist kept pumping, unrelenting and brutal, dragging every pulse out of him. At the same time, he shoved his fingers even deeper into Eddie’s clenching, spasming hole—slick, hot, ruthless.

 

Eddie screamed. It wasn’t just sound—it was agony, release, shame, pleasure, everything, ripped straight from his throat in one raw cry.

 

“Oh?” Buck said darkly, eyes burning, his voice low and sharp as a blade. “Did I tell you to come?”

 

Eddie was crying now—real, wet tears streaking his temples, his chest heaving, hands flexing uselessly in the binds, hips trying to get away from Buck’s touch. His face was slack with overstimulation, flushed and wrecked, and his body twitched with every stroke.

 

“N-no, sir,” he sobbed, voice high and trembling.

 

“No,” Buck snarled. “You fucking disobeyed me.”

 

But still, his hands didn’t stop.

 

He gripped Eddie’s now hypersensitive cock like he owned it—jerking, squeezing, dragging out every tortured aftershock. His fingers curled inside him with vicious precision, hitting that swollen, trembling spot over and over and over again.

 

Eddie was shaking.

 

“Sir—fuck—p-please—I can’t—too much—please, sir—”

 

Buck leaned down, his breath hot against Eddie’s ear. “You don’t get to come without permission,” he whispered. “You don’t get to breathe unless I say so. You’re mine to wreck, sweetheart. And guess what?”

 

Eddie whimpered, broken, hanging by a thread.

 

“I’m not done with you.”

 

His strokes turned cruel, sharp and fast and merciless. His fingers pounded in harder, wetter, deeper. The sound of it was obscene, matching the wet slap of Buck’s fist and Eddie’s whimpering cries as his body convulsed under the onslaught.

 

“No—no more—” Eddie choked, voice cracked, incoherent.

 

But his cock pulsed again. His hips jerked, out of rhythm, uncontrolled. And then—

 

He came again.

 

Nothing left to give, not even fluid, just broken gasps and full-body shudders. His release hit like a seizure, sharp and unbearable, as tears poured down his face. He sobbed through it, his chest stuttering, his legs trembling like they were about to give out even in the ropes.

 

“Good,” Buck said roughly, eyes blown wide with dark hunger. “Fucking cry for me.”

 

And Eddie did—openly now, shaking and gasping and overwhelmed, his body soaked in sweat, tears, and come. Every inch of him trembled, flushed, his skin marked from ropes and kisses and teeth and hands.

 

“You wanted to come so badly,” Buck growled, voice thick and filthy, “so now you’ll feel every fucking second of what that costs.”

 

He thrusted his fingers deeper again—never stopping—and Eddie screamed hoarsely, tossing his head, his entire body thrashing jerkily against the binds.

 

“F-fuck, sir—I—I can’t—please—”

 

“Yes,” Buck whispered harshly. “Yes, you can. Because you’re my good boy.”

 

He pressed a kiss to Eddie’s tear-streaked cheek.

 

“And good boys take it.”

 

Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and glassy, lips parted but too hoarse to speak.

 

“That was two, baby,” Buck murmured, dragging his tongue in a slow line up Eddie’s throat. “You disobeyed. That means three.”

 

Eddie just gasped, already shaking his head, like he couldn’t physically do anything more to try to stop Buck.

 

Buck stroked him in fast, practiced motions, his other hand massaging his prostate deep inside with maddening, slow pressure. Eddie twisted, legs shaking violently in the ropes, and sobbed through clenched teeth as the sensation overwhelmed him, still.

 

“No,” Eddie gasped, voice cracking.

 

“Yes,” Buck replied smoothly, with a grin that promised no mercy.

 

Eddie shook his head, another choked sob tearing out of him. “N-no-o-o—”

 

Buck echoed the sound in a cruel mimic, low and mocking. “Ye-e-es.”

 

Eddie let out a broken, high whine, desperation pouring out of him. His hips jerked, legs straining against the binds as he tried to twist away, tried to shut himself down, protect what little of his sanity he had left.

 

Buck kept going. Eddie twisted, legs shaking violently in the ropes again, and sobbed through clenched teeth at the sensation.

 

His back arched. He screamed.

 

His entire body locked up once, then again, and then he was coming for the third time, crying through it. He was shaking uncontrollably, throat raw from moaning and screaming, his body twitching in short spasms like his nerves were all misfiring.

 

Buck finally pulled back. And just looked at him for a moment. Looked at what he’d done. His beautiful boy, ruined. Glowing. Glorious.

 

“Fuck,” Buck gasped, voice raw with how hard he still was. His fingers fumbled at his belt, urgency overtaking finesse. He didn’t bother pushing his pants down—just yanked himself free, gripped his cock tight, and stroked hard. Once. Twice.

 

He groaned through clenched teeth, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he knelt over Eddie’s belly.

 

Then he came—hot, thick, spilling across Eddie’s chest and ribs, painting his stomach in sharp contrast to what was already there. His thighs trembled with the force of it, a desperate moan escaping as he collapsed forward, catching himself at the last moment on shaking arms.

 

For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was their breathing—shallow, ragged, alive.

 

Then Buck softened.

 

He leaned down, kissed Eddie’s temple. His cheek. The corner of his mouth, bruised and trembling. He tucked himself back into his pants, and then one by one, Buck loosened the knots with steady fingers, whispering apologies for every twitch, every gasp that slipped out of Eddie’s bitten lips.

 

“I got you, baby,” he murmured, voice thick. “You did so fucking good. My perfect baby.”

 

Eddie whimpered—a wreck of a sound, helpless and trusting—as Buck eased his legs down, slow and careful, cradling him like he might break.

 

With gentle hands, Buck grabbed a warm cloth and began to clean him, murmuring soothing praise between every stroke.

 

“So proud of you.”

 

“So fucking beautiful.”

 

“My sweet, good boy.”

 

And when it was done, when the mess was gone and the room felt quieter than before, Buck slid in behind him, pulling Eddie close. He wrapped his arms around him and held him as long as he needed.

 

Buck had noticed by now that Eddie, like most people, needed a moment to come down from the high. He appreciated contact, praise. And now, he also knew Eddie didn’t like waking up alone.

 

Eddie’s tears had stopped. His breath was still uneven, but calming, each exhale softening beneath Buck’s voice—low and constant in his ear—as fingers traced down his spine, through his hair, across his hip.

 

“Am I mentally ill for enjoying being tortured by you?” Eddie whispered, voice hoarse and holed with exhaustion.

 

Buck huffed a quiet laugh against his skin. “You’re just a masochist,” he said with a shrug, nuzzling the back of his neck. “Lucky for you, I’m an expert.”

 

A few moments later, the sound of the front door echoed down the hall.

 

“Dad?” Chris’s bright voice rang out.

 

Eddie groaned, face buried in Buck’s shoulder. “Tell him I died.”

 

Buck chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s temple. “I’ll tell him you’re in the shower,” he whispered, brushing his fingers down Eddie’s spine. “And you better hurry, ‘cause I’m cooking for us.”

 

Eddie sighed, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, even as he stayed boneless in his bed.

Chapter 24

Notes:

siblings always make everything better ;D

Eddie had somehow convinced himself that getting Buck out of his system would be easy. A few rounds between the sheets, some unresolved tension finally handled, and they'd be back to normal.

 

Yeah. No.

 

Because he hadn’t just caught feelings. He was drowning in them.

 

He couldn’t stop touching Buck—brushing hands, nudging knees, pulling him close whenever they were alone. Couldn’t stop complimenting him either, like every little thing Buck did was worthy of awe. Couldn’t even stop blurting “Love ya” like it didn’t carry the weight of years behind it.

 

And Buck—Buck didn’t seem to mind.

 

Sometimes he’d blink, startled, like Eddie had short-circuited him. Sometimes his cheeks flushed that soft, guilty pink. But he never pulled away.

 

Not after that night at Buck’s, where Eddie stayed far longer than he should have.

 

Not after that afternoon tangled in Eddie’s sheets, the air thick with sweat and unspoken things.

 

Not even after Eddie promised Maddie he’d be careful.

 

Eddie was probably clinically insane by now. Had been for months. But maybe this was just his peak derangement. Or maybe—just maybe—Buck matched his particular brand of emotional chaos.

 

Lazy handjobs in the firehouse showers. Sloppy blowjobs in the haunted supply closet. Inconspicuous teasing under the table during team breakfasts or in a truck full of their clueless coworkers.

 

And still, still, through all of it, Eddie wanted to say the words. I love you. Like really say them—clear and undeniable. But the right time hadn’t come. Maybe it never would. Maybe he was waiting for a moment that didn’t exist.

 

His phone vibrated in its holder as he drove home from a brutal 48-hour shift. The name “Las Locas” popped up on the screen, accompanied by an old, unflattering selfie of him, Sophia and Adriana flipping the bird with matching sheet masks.

 

He laughed under his breath and accepted it with a thumb swipe, propping the phone up in its holder.

 

“¿Qué quieren ahora?” he asked with a mock sigh, voice scratchy with exhaustion.

 

Adriana’s face filled part of the screen immediately, tongue sticking out. “Ay, cálmate, amargado. You should be happy we call your lonely ass.”

 

“Wow,” he said flatly. “Missed this.”

 

On the other side of the split screen, Sophia was curled up on her couch, red wine in hand, already in pajamas. “Papito, don’t be rude. You haven’t called us in days. Adri says you’ve been ignoring us.”

 

“I didn’t say ignoring,” Adriana cut in. “I said distant. Which is very different.”

 

“Which is code for ignoring,” Sophia added, smirking like a cat.

 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’ve just been busy.”

 

“Busy con quién?” Adriana sing-songed, eyebrows wiggling. “Is this a sneaky romance? Are you in love, Edmundo?”

 

“Dios,” he muttered. “No—I’m driving, and you two are chaotic.”

 

Sophia narrowed her eyes. “Okay but quick question, for real—have you… talked to them?”

 

The shift was immediate. Eddie’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “No.”

 

“Still?” Adriana asked, her voice softer now. “It’s been months.”

 

“I’m aware.”

 

Sophia set her wine down, her tone leveling. “Mami called me again. She asked about you. Said she misses you.”

 

Eddie barked a humorless laugh. “Oh, she misses me? That’s rich, coming from the woman who slapped Buck across the face and called me a faggot in front of my son.”

 

The silence on the other end was sharp.

 

“She regrets it,” Sophia said quietly.

 

“She said I was a bad example for Chris,” Eddie snapped. “She said Buck was disgusting. And you know what papá did? Nada. Just sat there. And then I had to kick them out of my house.”

 

Adriana sighed. “I know, hermanito. It was horrible.”

 

Sophia hummed. “Yeah, if we were there, we would’ve thrown them out with you.”

 

Eddie swallowed, looking back at the road. “Thank you. Both of you.”

 

“You don’t owe us thanks,” Sophia replied. “You’re our brother. We love you. And we love Buck.”

 

Adriana nodded. “It’s just… do you think maybe someday you could forgive them? Not for them—for you.”

 

He exhaled slowly, gaze fixed on the road ahead. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Every time I think about it, I just… I see his face. Buck’s face. Right after. He didn’t even defend himself. Just stood there and took it. And I let him.”

 

“You didn’t let her do shit,” Sophia said fiercely. “You were in shock. And you did what counted in the end. You stood by him.”

 

Eddie didn’t answer right away. He just drove. The city lights bleeding into the dark spaces between stoplights.

 

Then Adriana, bless her nosy heart, decided to lighten the mood: “Anyway, not to derail your trauma spiral, but... speaking of Buck.”

 

Sophia perked up instantly. “You know who we haven’t seen in forever on these calls?”

 

Adriana gasped dramatically. “¡Buckito! Where is that man? You two used to be joined at the hip. Did you finally scare him off with your grumpy papá vibes?”

 

Eddie tried not to smile. Failed. “He’s probably sleeping. We just got off a brutal shift.”

 

“Liar,” Sophia said with a grin. “Let’s see.”

 

Before Eddie could object, Adriana had already hit the button to add Buck to the call.

 

“You are the worst,” Eddie muttered.

 

Adriana just grinned.

 

After two rings, Buck’s face appeared, backlit by the streetlights in the darkness streaming through his windshield. “Hello, my favorite family!” he said brightly, steering wheel in one hand, phone in the other.

 

“¡Mira nada más!” Adriana cried. “Looking guapo as ever. Where are you going, mi amorcito?”

 

“Please don’t flirt with my coworkers,” Eddie muttered.

 

Buck grinned, not missing a beat. “Just heading home. Sleep-deprived and in desperate need of a goodshower.”

 

“Alone?” Sophia asked with the precision of a sniper.

 

Buck blinked. “Uh… yes?”

 

Adriana leaned toward the screen. “We’re doing sibling recon. If you’re not making dinner for our brother and our nephew, what are you doing?”

 

“Sleeping,” Buck said. “Hopefully. Once I get there.”

 

“Weird,” Sophia said. “You guys used to be so domestic. Buck cooking, Eddie brooding, Chris narrating everything like it was a reality show…”

 

Buck laughed. “Hey, it’s still domestic. Just tired today. Chris already ate at his friend’s house, and Eddie’s probably going to fall asleep still wearing his boots.”

 

“I am right here,” Eddie reminded them all.

 

“Diaz siblings, chaotic as ever,” Buck said with a smirk, parking in front of his building.

 

“Oh please, you love it,” Sophia said, softening. “And we love you. You need to join these calls more often.”

 

Buck nodded, getting out of his car. “Deal. Just… maybe not while I’m barely alive from work.”

 

“I’ll take what I can get,” Adriana said. “But next time? Wine, pajamas, and no pants.”

 

“Tempting,” Buck replied with a grin. “I’ll talk to HR.”

 

“Go sleep, guapo,” Sophia said, wiggling her fingers in a wave.

 

“Night, fam,” Buck said, and the screen blinked off, leaving just the three Diaz siblings on the call.

 

There was a beat of silence. Then Adriana turned back to the camera, her eyes practically glowing.

 

“Okay, but seriously?” she began, voice already pitching upward with excitement. “I know I say this every other month, but I want another family wedding. I was like, what? Twelve? When Sophia got married? I deserve a redo.”

 

“I do not need a redo, thanks,” Sophia said, raising her glass. “But yes. Let the record show: my wedding was lovely.”

 

Adriana rolled her eyes. “Sure, but I was all braces and baby fat. This time, I could look hot instead of cute. I want a sexy dress and bad decisions at the open bar.”

 

“Por Dios,” Eddie muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “Please don’t start this again.”

 

“Why not?” Adriana asked sweetly. “You and Buck basically share custody of a child. You live in each other’s houses. You look at him like he hung the moon. Just skip the slow burn and give me an excuse to wear heels.”

 

“You wear heels to work.” Eddie groaned, slouching deeper into his seat at a red light. “Besides, it’s not like that.”

 

Sophia raised an eyebrow. “Papito, you just blushed. You’re literally turning red right now.”

 

“I’m not blushing—I'm tired. And standing in front of a red light.”

 

“Right,” Sophia said, all dry disbelief. “Because that’s why your ears are red too?”

 

“They do get red when he’s embarrassed,” Adriana added helpfully. “It’s his tell. Always has been.”

 

“I hate both of you.”

 

“You love us,” Adriana countered. “Almost as much as you love Buck.”

 

“I do not—” Eddie spluttered, then cut himself off with a groan. “Can you just not? I’ve been awake for two straight days, my back hurts, and the last thing I need is a damn telenovela about my nonexistent love life.”

 

“But it is a telenovela,” Sophia teased. “The sexual tension. The tragic backstory. The forbidden love between firefighter soulmates—”

 

Eddie let out a strangled noise and turned into his street, muttering, “Oh my God.”

 

Adriana gasped. “Wait, is Buck the tragic backstory or the soulmate?”

 

“He’s both,” Sophia said, sipping her wine like she was making a formal declaration.

 

“I’m hanging up now.”

 

“You’re parked, no te hagas.”

 

“Keep talking!”

 

“I’m not parked. I’m looking for a spot.” He squinted at an open space, already planning to wedge himself in even if it was a tight fit just for an excuse to end this.

 

“Well, find one quick,” Adriana chirped. “Then tell Buck you love him and call us back when you’re engaged.”

 

“I swear to God—”

 

Sophia laughed. “Fine, fine. Go get your beauty sleep, Romeo. But if you do get married, I want to be maid of honor. Adri had her moment to shine with her quinceañera. It’s my turn.”

 

“—Excuse me? That was ten years ago!”

 

“I’m going to block both of you.”

 

“You’ve said that before,” Adriana said, smug as ever.

 

Eddie spotted his opportunity and swerved into the tiny space like it owed him money. “Okay,” he said flatly, killing the engine. “Piss off. I'm sleeping for the next fourteen hours.”

 

“Awww,” Adriana cooed. “Te queremos, Eddie. Even if you’re in denial.”

 

“Buenas noches, papito,” Sophia added. “Dream of Buck.”

 

Eddie ended the call mid-laugh, face burning so hot it could’ve melted his steering wheel. He dropped his head back against the seat with a groan. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled to himself. “I need new sisters.” But his lips were curved in a smile anyway.

 

The house was mostly dark when Eddie walked in, the porch light off like Chris always insisted, “to help the stars shine better”. He kicked off his boots with a groan and dropped his keys into the bowl by the door, already half-asleep on his feet.

 

Which was why the light spilling from the kitchen made him frown.

 

He shuffled in, blinking blearily—and stopped.

 

Chris was sitting at the counter, elbows propped up, a near-empty glass of milk in front of him and a single Oreo balanced on the edge of the plate like a peace offering.

 

“What the hell, mijo?” Eddie mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why are you awake?”

 

Chris shrugged, not looking even remotely guilty. “Couldn’t sleep. Buck’s hoodie smells weird. It smells like you.”

 

Eddie huffed a tired laugh and dropped into the seat across from him. “That’s what you get for stealing it.”

 

“It was in your room,” Chris said, like that settled it.

 

“Still not yours.”

 

“Also not yours.” Chris took a bite of his cookie, chewing thoughtfully. “Did you have a good shift?”

 

Eddie let his head tip back against the chair. “Define good.”

 

Chris just nodded like that was answer enough. Then: “Buck sent me a picture ealier. He looked tired.”

 

Eddie cracked one eye open. “We were up for almost two days. He is tired.”

 

Chris was quiet a moment, then added, “You get tired too, but you don’t look like that.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you ran out of all your words.”

 

Eddie blinked at him. “That’s... weirdly poetic. Who taught you that?”

 

Chris gave him a look. “I read, Dad.”

 

“Yeah, okay, Shakespeare.” He shifted in his chair, suddenly very aware of how sore his back was. “Buck’s just been overdoing it lately. He’s fine.”

 

Chris hummed—one of those little noncommittal sounds that meant he was thinking something and choosing not to say it. He picked up the last crumb of his cookie and asked casually, “Do you like it when he’s here?”

 

Eddie opened both eyes this time. “What?”

 

Chris shrugged again. “Just wondering. You smile more when he is.”

 

Eddie blinked. “I smile plenty.”

 

Chris gave him an unimpressed look, then slowly raised one eyebrow. The same one Eddie’s sisters always arched when they were about to win an argument.

 

“I smile,” Eddie insisted.

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Why are you even still awake? You’ve got school tomorrow.”

 

Chris pushed his plate toward the center of the counter and slid off the chair with his usual clunky grace. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” Then, as he shuffled toward the hallway: “Tell Buck hi.”

 

Eddie frowned. “I can do that in the morning.”

 

Chris looked over his shoulder. “You always do.”

 

Then he disappeared into the dark hallway, leaving Eddie alone in the kitchen—blinking, confused, and only just realizing he hadn’t even gotten his hoodie back.

 

*

 

Buck: chris said if i don’t fold the laundry “the right way” he’s putting me in grown-up time-out :/

 

Eddie: That’s fair. You do just roll your socks into angry little balls.

 

Buck: they’re efficient!!!!

 

Buck: round. contained. logical.

 

Eddie: They look like stress eggs.

 

Eddie: I’ll fix them. You’re welcome.

 

Buck: rude but thank u <3

 

*

 

Eddie: Do NOT eat the cookies in the blue tin.

 

Buck: why

 

Buck: what’s in them

 

Buck: chris bake again??

 

Eddie: They’re for Tía Pepa. And yes, Chris baked. You’ll lose a tooth.

 

Buck: so they’re dangerous and for ur aunt. got it.

 

Buck: …what if i just sniff them

 

Eddie: I’ll know.

 

*

 

Buck: u wore that shirt today on purpose didn’t u

 

Eddie: Which shirt?

 

Buck: black one. tight sleeves.

 

Buck: the “i’m a walking thirst trap” one

 

Eddie: ...I plead the fifth.

 

Buck: UR LUCKY I WAS WORKING

 

*

 

Buck: new neighbor has 3 cats n not ONE of them likes me

 

Buck: tried twice

 

Buck: one hissed

 

Buck: one turned its back

 

Buck: the third blinked like it saw my sins

 

Eddie: Sounds like good judges of character.

 

Buck: rude

 

Buck: but fine

 

Buck: i’ll just go cry in the hallway now

 

*

 

Eddie: Stop looking at me like that across the dinner table.

 

Buck: can’t

 

Buck: u got ur dad voice on and it’s doing THINGS to me

 

Eddie: Buck.

 

Buck: say it again

 

Eddie: I will kick you under this table.

 

Buck: worth it

 

*

 

Buck: did u know ur son can make eggs now???

 

Eddie: What kind of eggs?

 

Buck: uhhhh

 

Buck: scrambled. ish.

 

Buck: very maybe. v crunchy.

 

Eddie: Did you eat them?

 

Buck: love that kid more than i love my tastebuds

 

*

 

Buck: wyd what u wearing

 

Eddie: Why?

 

Buck: bc if u say those gay ass gray sweatpants i like i’m coming over rn

 

Eddie: You’re at work.

 

Buck: i can leave

 

Buck: for emergencies

 

Buck: ;D

 

*

 

Eddie: You left your hoodie again. It’s in my passenger seat.

 

Buck: u miss me or my laundry just in the way?

 

Eddie: Yes.

 

Buck: ur such a softie just admit it

 

Eddie: Shut up and come get your hoodie.

 

Buck: okok omw

 

*

 

Eddie was halfway through reassembling the rig’s oxygen tank when he heard Buck cough. Not dramatic, just a dry little scrape at the back of his throat. But it was the third one in as many minutes.

 

He glanced over at him. Buck was sprawled across the couch, legs wide, socks mismatched, hoodie rumpled around his hips. Reading something on his phone, brow furrowed, lips slightly parted.

 

He coughed again, rubbing at his neck like it was an afterthought.

 

Eddie didn’t say anything. He wiped his hands on a towel, got up, and walked straight to the kitchen. He ignored his co-workers. Hen clocked him immediately from the kitchen table, one brow arched. Chim looked up from the game of cards he was losing to Bobby and grinned like he knew something.

 

He just made tea, exactly the way Buck liked. He even grabbed that one mug—the one from a call months ago where Buck saved a dog from under a collapsed porch and some old lady made him take it. A faded golden retriever on the side. Buck said it was stupid, but he always drank out of it when he didn’t feel good.

 

Eddie walked back across the room and placed it gently on the side table next to Buck’s thigh.

 

Buck blinked up at him. “What’s this?”

 

Eddie shrugged. “Your throat’s been bothering you.”

 

Buck tilted his head, gaze warming in that way that made Eddie feel too seen. “You’re observant.”

 

“You’re annoying when you’re sick,” Eddie said, then sat back down and picked up his wrench.

 

Buck snorted, but it was pleased. A beat later, the couch creaked, and Buck was sipping the tea.

 

It would’ve ended there. Should’ve, maybe.

 

But a few minutes later, Buck got up and padded over, slipping into the seat next to Eddie. Their knees touched. Buck didn’t move away. Neither did Eddie.

 

Buck leaned in slightly, voice low. “You smell like oil and bad decisions.”

 

Eddie’s jaw twitched. “You said I smelled good this morning.”

 

“I said you smelled like trouble.”

 

“Same thing.”

 

Their eyes met—and held—long enough that it became a thing. Not heated. Not teasing. Just quiet and there.

 

“You two want us to leave?” Chim asked. “Or maybe just get a room downstairs and save us the performance?”

 

Eddie didn’t even blink. Buck didn’t either.

 

“Are they seriously doing this again?” Hen asked, looking at them like they were the ones being weird.

 

Ravi, sitting across from her with a granola bar in one hand and his report tablet in the other, looked between them and offered, “They’ve been doing this all week.”

 

“Try all year,” Bobby muttered without looking up from his cards.

 

Buck finally looked over at them, grinning around the rim of his stupid golden retriever mug. “Well, sorry we’re best friends.”

 

“Best friends?” Hen echoed. “Buck, you called him ‘Captain Growly’ this morning.”

 

“And he still handed me his toast when I looked sad about Chim burning mine,” Buck said, like that explained everything.

 

Eddie would give Buck anything his heart desired.

 

He rolled his eyes and stood, making sure his shoulder brushed Buck’s just a little too intentionally. “Come help me with the tanks.”

 

“I’m sipping tea and convalescing,” Buck replied, dramatically pulling the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over his lap like a Victorian widow.

 

“You’re coming with me,” Eddie said.

 

Buck raised a brow. But he set the mug down, put his boots on, and followed. He didn’t say a word as they walked past the others. Didn’t respond when Hen called after them with a pointed, “Use protection—for the oxygen tank, obviously.”

 

Once they were tucked into the shadows of the engine bay, Buck leaned against the wall, arms crossed, the ghost of a grin still on his mouth.

 

“What?” Eddie asked, not looking at him.

 

Buck shrugged, stepping closer. “You made me tea.”

 

“Not the first time, Buck.”

 

Buck hummed. A low, pleased sound that vibrated somewhere in Eddie’s chest before it settled behind his ribs.

 

He didn’t say anything else—just looked at Eddie like he always did when they were alone, like the whole world quieted between them. Like he was seeing something Eddie wasn’t sure he knew how to hide anymore.

 

Eddie adjusted the regulator valve on the tank without glancing up. “You’re in the way.”

 

“You like it when I’m in your space,” Buck said easily.

 

Eddie’s jaw twitched. He didn’t deny it. Couldn’t.

 

Buck took one slow step forward until the toes of his boots just nudged Eddie’s. Close enough that Eddie could smell the cinnamon from the tea and the faint scent of Buck’s cologne, the one Eddie liked best—warm, clean, just a little bit reckless.

 

“Okay,” Buck said. “Let’s fix these tanks.”

 

They worked in silence, hands brushing occasionally, knees bumping when they crouched to check the straps. Each time, Eddie told himself it was nothing. It was just Buck being Buck. Just gravity. Just proximity. Just—

 

“You missed a bolt,” Buck said quietly.

 

Eddie turned to look at him. “No, I didn’t.”

 

“You almost missed a bolt,” Buck corrected, smiling with his whole damn face now. “Which is basically the same.”

 

“Get out of my bay.”

 

Buck laughed, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Hey, uh—” Ravi’s voice called out from the other end of the truck, hesitant. “Are we pretending we can’t see you, or should I come back later?”

 

Buck just grinned, unbothered. Eddie sighed and stood, tossing a wrench onto the tool tray.

 

“Didn’t realize the engine bay was booked for a romantic dinner,” Ravi added, stepping around the front of the truck with a smirk. “Should I bring candles next time? Maybe a Bluetooth speaker for some soft jazz?”

 

Buck scoffed. “Please. If you’re gonna crash our date, at least offer to make dessert.”

 

Ravi gave him a look. “The last time I baked something, Chim cried. And not in a good way.”

 

“That was banana bread,” Buck said, eyes wide. “How do you mess up banana bread, man?”

 

“Maybe if someone didn’t distract me with a five-minute debate about the correct shelf life of baking soda, I wouldn’t have left it in for an hour.”

 

Buck gasped. “That wasn’t a debate. That was life-saving information. Baking soda is a science, Ravi.”

 

“Tell that to the smoke detector.”

 

Eddie just watched them, towel still in hand, tanks forgotten. Buck and Ravi bickered like siblings—playful, familiar, occasionally loud. The rest of the team found it hilarious. Hen called them the “dumbass twins” when they got going. Bobby once left the room muttering, “One Buck was already too many.”

 

And Eddie knew—he knew—that there was absolutely nothing between them. Not like that.

 

Still, something irrational twisted in his chest whenever Ravi leaned too close. When Buck laughed too easily at something Ravi said. When Ravi shoved Buck’s shoulder like he’d earned the right.

 

Because Eddie had that right.

 

Didn’t he?

 

He was the one who knew Buck’s tea preferences down to the exact amount of honey. He was the one who’d stitched up Buck’s hand in a gas station parking lot at 2 a.m. He was the one who’d kissed Buck breathless in the fire truck a week ago and hadn’t spoken about it. Eddie was the one who—

 

“Earth to Eddie,” Buck sing-songed, waving a hand in front of his face.

 

Eddie blinked. Ravi was gone, muttering something about incompetent mechanics and cinnamon allergy. Buck stood closer now, watching him with those eyes that always knew a little too much.

 

“You good?” Buck asked, quieter now. Less teasing.

 

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

 

Buck tilted his head, unconvinced but not pushing. He stepped forward, brushing imaginary lint off Eddie’s shirt like he had a reason to touch him. Like they always had reasons.

 

“Long shift,” Buck murmured.

 

“Mm.”

 

They stood there a beat too long. Close. Easy.

 

“You didn’t deny the romantic dinner thing, by the way,” Buck added with a smirk.

 

Eddie tried not to smile, but failed. “Shut up.”

 

“Love when you flirt with me.”

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

Buck grinned, backing away just far enough to breathe but not far enough to matter. “You gonna finish the tank or stare dreamily at me until Bobby yells at us again?”

 

Eddie turned back to the rig, but his hands were useless. His chest too full. His throat tight with everything he hadn’t said.

 

He was so stupidly, silently in love.

Chapter 25

Notes:

AAHH literally updating from the airplane, hope this works... i was too excited about this chapter, hope you'll enjoy it!! also, ayyeee title reference ;)

Buck pulled up to their usual coffee spot, sliding the Jeep into park along the curb. The morning rush had finally eased, and they'd just dropped Chris off at school. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Chris would be starting high school in the fall. He remembered when the kid barely reached his hip.

 

“The usual?” Eddie asked, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pushing open the door.

 

Buck gave a tired grunt. “Extra sugar, please. Slept like crap.”

 

“You got it,” Eddie chuckled, stepping out. “Be right back. Love you.” The door shut with a soft thud as he walked away.

 

Buck hummed to the music, then his head snapped to where Eddie had just disappeared.

 

Wait, what?

 

Had Eddie Diaz—stone-faced, emotionally constipated, five-layers-of-walls Eddie Diaz—just told him he loved him again? He said it so casually, like he said “see you later” or “pass the salt”.

 

“What the fuck?” Buck muttered, sitting up straighter in his seat. His heart had jumped, and now it was settling somewhere between confusion and complete meltdown.

 

And what was worse… it hadn’t been a fluke. It had become a pattern.

 

Weeks ago, after a long call and an even longer shift, Eddie had dropped him off at home, handed him a container of leftovers and said, “Don’t forget to eat, I’d rather not deal with you fainting again. Love you.”

 

Buck had stared at his front door for five solid minutes before he remembered how to unlock it.

 

Then there was the day at the station—two days ago? Three?—they’d just finished inventory and Buck was about to complain about his sore back when Eddie tossed him a bottle of water and muttered, “You’re the strongest guy I know. Probably why you’re so damn annoying about it.”

 

Buck had blinked. “Was that… a compliment?”

 

Eddie had shrugged like it was nothing. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

 

And then this morning. Buck was trying to fix Chris’s bike before school, muttering curses at the rusted gear chain when Eddie crouched next to him and handed over a tool.

 

“You know, you’re good with your hands. Always have been. That’s something I really admire.”

 

Admire.

 

Buck had nearly crushed the wrench.

 

Now, sitting in the car with coffee in his hand and Eddie humming quietly beside him like nothing was happening, Buck felt like he was losing his mind. Each moment on its own could be brushed off—just Eddie being nice, maybe working through things in therapy. But together? It was something. Something big. Especially for Eddie.

 

“Hey,” Eddie said suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. “You okay? You’ve got that face.”

 

Buck blinked at him, before looking back at the road. “What face?”

 

“The one that means you’re spiraling.” Eddie tilted his head. “C’mon, talk to me.”

 

And that was another thing. Eddie had always noticed. But somehow even more now. Every shift in Buck’s mood, every thought half-finished behind his eyes—Eddie saw all of it. And more than that, he asked. He cared.

 

“I’m fine,” Buck said a little too quickly, sipping his coffee to hide it. “Just tired.”

 

Eddie didn’t push, but his gaze lingered. “Okay. But if you’re not, you know you can talk to me, right? You’re… important to me. More than I probably say.”

 

Buck almost dropped his drink.

 

More than I probably say. That did it. That tipped the scale from confusion into crisis mode.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Buck muttered under his breath. He needed air. Or more therapy. Or better yet, a full MRI.

 

“What?” Eddie pressed again, brows furrowed, clearly not understanding the grenade he’d just casually lobbed into Buck’s chest.

 

“You need to stop doing that,” Buck finally snapped, shoving his coffee into the cup holder like it had personally offended him. He kept his eyes trained on the road.

 

Eddie blinked. “Doing what?”

 

“That!” Buck gestured vaguely between them, like the air itself could explain what he meant. “The… the compliments. The love yous. The—you mean a lot to me stuff.”

 

Eddie sat back, confused. “I’m just being honest.”

 

“Yeah, well—stop,” Buck said, and his voice cracked at the end, betraying the storm rising behind his ribs. His heart was beating a mile a minute now. “You don’t get to do that right now.”

 

Eddie’s jaw tensed, eyes narrowing slightly. “Don’t get to? Buck, what are you talking about?”

 

Buck ran a hand through his hair, yanking slightly at the ends, already regretting opening his mouth but too far in to stop now. “I’m talking about you throwing around ‘I love you’ like it’s nothing.”

 

Eddie blinked. “It’s not nothing.”

 

Buck barked a laugh, humorless and sharp. “Could’ve fooled me.”

 

Eddie’s face darkened. “So what, you want me to stop? You want me to go back to how I was before? Bottle it up? Not say shit?”

 

Rain suddenly hit the windshield in sharp, erratic splashes, like the sky had been holding its breath and finally exhaled all at once.

 

“Maybe!” Buck snapped, eyes wild, flicking between Eddie and the road. “Maybe that’d make more sense than you suddenly deciding you’re the Patron Saint of Emotional Availability!”

 

“Jesus, Buck,” Eddie muttered, looking out the window like he was trying to hold his temper together with duct tape and spit. “You’re being a dick.”

 

Buck’s hands gripped the steering wheel tight. “Yeah? Well, I’ve been losing my mind trying to figure out what’s real with you, and you’re out here acting like it’s a game.”

 

“It’s not a goddamn game!”

 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Buck bit out again, jaw clenched. “One second you’re warm, saying all this stuff that means something, and then you pull away like you didn’t say it at all. I’m not your emotional trial run, Eddie. I’m not your practice boyfriend!”

 

Eddie shot him a glare, nostrils flaring. “I never said you were—”

 

“Then why does it feel like I’m the only one bleeding out here?!”

 

That shut Eddie up.

 

Buck’s chest rose and fell, breaths short and sharp. The silence between them felt loud, buzzing with everything neither of them knew how to say. Without thinking, Buck yanked the wheel and pulled the car hard to the side of the road. Gravel crunched under the tires as he threw it in park. Thick, angry drops blurred the road and hammered against the roof.

 

“Buck—what the hell?”

 

Buck threw his door open and stepped out, pacing like a storm cloud in a body, hands in his hair, muttering curses under his breath. The cold hit him immediately. Soaking. Icy. But not enough to extinguish the fire boiling in his chest. It needed out. Everything needed out.

 

“Buck!” Eddie shouted, throwing his own door open. Rain swallowed his voice, but he didn’t hesitate—he got out too, slamming the door hard enough to make the car shake.  “You’re gonna get sick. Get back in the car!”

 

“No!” He turned to face Eddie. “You don’t get to decide for me how to feel, Eddie!” Buck yelled again, water dripping down his face, hair plastered to his forehead. “Not after all this time. Not after everything we’ve been through. I’ve been breaking myself in half just trying to make sense of you!”

 

Eddie’s voice was hoarse with disbelief. “You think I haven’t?”

 

“No, I think you hide. That’s what you’re good at. You bury everything until it’s safe—until I’m safe—and then you throw out ‘I love you’ like it’s a goddamn thank you! And I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to do with that!”

 

Rain ran down Eddie’s face, but he didn’t blink. He didn’t move. Then his jaw flexed. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

 

“Then enlighten me!” Buck yelled, arms out like he was begging for something—anything—he could hold onto.

 

Eddie took two steps forward, getting all up in Buck’s space. “You are important to me!” he shouted over the storm, voice shaking. “Do you not get that? You always have been!”

 

Buck scoffed, hands flying out again. “Then why the hell does it feel like you’re only saying it when I’m one breath away from snapping in half?!”

 

“Because I didn’t know how to say it before, okay?!” Eddie yelled, chest heaving. “I don’t know how to tell you I couldn’t let go of your hand when that truck landed on you. I physically couldn’t. How I was scared shitless when you coughed up blood in Bobby’s garden.”

 

Buck could feel his eyes flare. “You think you were the only one?! When the well collapsed, Eddie, everyone thought you were dead. I was out there digging like a goddamn maniac until my fingers were bleeding. I couldn’t get to you—I couldn’t—and everyone was pulling me back, saying it was over, and I still couldn’t reach you.”

 

“You actually died, Buck!” Eddie bellowed, eyes wild now. “You died. You were gone. For three minutes and seventeen seconds you were gone! Do you have any idea what that felt like?!”

 

“And you were shot, Eddie!” Buck screamed back, stepping even closer, practically shaking—and not only from the relentless rain. “Right in front of me! I had your blood in my mouth when I carried you to the truck. I tasted it for weeks. I had to sit Christopher down that night and tell him his dad might not make it! I thought I’d lost you!”

 

“This is not a competition!” Eddie exploded, voice cracking, rain washing down his face in torrents.

 

“Then what the fuck is it?!” Buck shouted, fists clenched at his sides, the storm screaming with them. “Because we don’t talk about it! Not ever! Not when we’re scared, or hurting, or almost dying—”

 

“I love you!”

 

Buck froze.

 

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment you looked at me, smiled, and sat down next to me like you fucking belonged there!” Eddie’s voice cracked apart with it, raw and breathless and bleeding. “And I have been fighting it for years, Buck! Fighting myself. Fighting what it means. And I’m—I’m so fucking tired of fighting!”

 

For a moment, the rain was the only sound, crashing down around them like a thousand tiny avalanches. Buck stood there, chest heaving, lips parted.

 

And then Eddie grabbed him by the soaked collar and kissed him. It was sudden and desperate—a crash of teeth and rain and breath, like he’d been holding back for years and finally gave up trying. The rain poured down around them, thunder rumbling far above, but none of it mattered.

 

All Buck could feel was Eddie as he kissed him back.

 

Eddie’s hands in his hair. Eddie’s mouth on his. Eddie breathing like he’d been underwater too long and Buck was the only air left in the world.

 

And then Eddie pulled back, roughly. Angry.

 

“Do you think this is easy for me?” he demanded, rain slicking his hair to his forehead, eyes burning through the downpour. “Do you think I wanted it to be like this?”

 

Buck blinked, chest heaving, too stunned to speak.

 

Eddie jabbed a finger toward him, stepping forward again like the storm wasn’t even there. His voice cracked then, raw and sharp like lightning splitting the sky above them. “I told myself it was a crush. That it would pass. That it was just adrenaline and grief and proximity. But you—you—you never passed. You stayed. You were always there.”

 

Buck didn’t dare move. The weight of Eddie’s words pinned him in place more than the rain ever could.

 

“I didn’t say anything because I thought I’d ruin it!” Eddie continued, voice ragged now, eyes rimmed red. “Because I thought you’d laugh it away, or worse—you’d say it back and mean something else. I thought I’d lose you, and Buck, I—” he choked on it, looking away like the truth was too big to say straight on. “I can live without a lot of things. I can’t live without you.”

 

The thunder growled above them like the sky itself was listening.

 

Eddie’s gaze snapped back to Buck’s. “I’ve been all in for years, Buck. Every time I trusted you with Chris. Every time I sat beside you in that hospital. Every time I picked you over anyone else.” His voice dropped, aching. “You’re not my practice anything. You’re it. You’ve always been it.”

 

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was dense, a pocket of stillness in the heart of the storm.

 

Buck’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

 

Eddie gave a weak laugh and shook his head, the rain pouring off his lashes. “You don’t have to say anything. I just... I couldn’t let you think it was nothing. Not when it’s everything. Not when you’re everything.” And with that, Eddie turned toward the car again, shoulders bowed like the confession had hollowed him out.

 

But Buck didn’t let him leave this time. His hand shot out, catching Eddie’s wrist, not yanking, just holding. Eddie stayed still, back to Buck, shoulders stiff like he was bracing for the worst. The rain kept coming down in heavy sheets, plastering his shirt to his back, soaking them both to the bone. Buck’s fingers tightened slightly around Eddie’s wrist, not enough to stop him—but enough to ask him to stay.

 

He could feel it, Eddie’s pulse thundering beneath his skin, fast and frantic like it was trying to break free of his veins. Buck stared at the point of contact, rainwater trailing down his arm, mixing with the warmth of Eddie’s skin.

 

For a second, he couldn’t breathe.

 

Then, true to form, because this was Buck, and Buck never did well with too much silence or too much feeling, he blurted, “What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

 

Eddie let out a breath that was almost a laugh, but not quite. He still didn’t turn around.

 

“I mean—Jesus, Eddie,” Buck said, his voice pitching higher with disbelief, “you—you just—you kissed me in the middle of a fight—in the middle of a storm—like this is some kind of Nicholas Sparks movie, and then you say that?”

 

“I meant it,” Eddie said quietly, back still to him.

 

“Yeah, no shit you meant it!” Buck shouted over the roar of the rain, his other hand gesturing wildly, as if trying to make sense of the shape of his own heart. “You think you can just drop a love confession that wrecks me and then walk away like we’re not standing in the middle of a goddamn emotional demolition site?!”

 

He dropped Eddie’s wrist finally, only to rake both hands through his soaked hair, pacing two steps and spinning back around like a man possessed.

 

“You’re not nothing to me, okay? You’ve never been nothing,” Buck said, voice cracking like thunder in his own chest. “You’re the person I look for in a room without even thinking. You’re the one I call before I call anyone. You—” His breath caught. “You’re my person, Eddie. And I’ve spent years pretending that wasn’t the biggest fucking truth of my life.”

 

Eddie turned, finally, slowly, like he was afraid Buck might disappear if he moved too fast. Their eyes locked, both soaked, both trembling from more than just the cold.

 

“But I didn’t say anything,” Buck went on, softer now, stepping in again, “because I didn’t think I could. You were straight. And I didn’t want to make things weird with Chris. Or ruin the best thing I’ve ever had. Or find out that I was just reading too much into all of it.”

 

He looked at Eddie like he was looking into a mirror that showed him every fear he’d ever swallowed.

 

“But if you’re telling me that all of it—all of it—means something to you too…” He reached out again, hand gentle as it curled around Eddie’s rain-slick jaw. “Then you don’t get to walk away now either.”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched.

 

“I love you. I am in love with you, Eddie Diaz.”

 

And then—God, Eddie laughed. A broken, wet, helpless kind of laugh, his shoulders shaking as the sound slipped out of him like it had nowhere else to go. It was cracked open at the edges, strung through with disbelief and too many years of silence. A second later, it turned into a sob, sharp and sudden, like his body didn’t know how to hold both things at once.

 

Buck just stood there, stunned. Watching him come apart in real time.

 

Tears blended with rainwater on Eddie’s cheeks, impossible to separate. He tried to say something—Buck could see the words forming, his lips moving around the shape of them—but whatever it was got swallowed whole by the way his chest kept convulsing. He doubled over slightly, laughter still spilling out between gasps like it had to, like if he didn’t let it out, it would crush him.

 

And that was it.

 

Buck broke too.

 

A laugh burst from his throat, almost shocked out of him, and his hands flew to his face like he could physically press the emotion back in, but it was already too late. A wild sound escaped him, part joy, part relief, part are-we-seriously-doing-this, and he started crying too. Full-on crying, no control, no filter, just messy and wet and absurdly, painfully happy.

 

Eddie looked up at him with wide, glistening eyes, and Buck lost it harder.

 

“Oh my God,” Buck choked, laughing through his own tears now. “What the hell is happening to us?”

 

Eddie shook his head, water flinging from his hair. “I don’t—” He hiccupped on a laugh. “I don’t know, man. I have no idea.”

 

Buck stepped closer, and Eddie didn’t flinch. Didn’t move away.

 

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up and explode at the same time,” Buck said, eyes shining, voice wobbling.

 

Eddie let out a watery snort. “Same.”

 

They stared at each other, still shaking with laughter and tears and a wild, delirious kind of disbelief. Eddie dropped to his knees on the gravel, unable to keep standing on his wobbling knees. Buck followed him suit.

 

And then, somehow, they were hugging. Or maybe crashing into each other was more accurate, like two magnets finally snapping together after years of fighting the pull. Arms wrapped tight, soaked clothes clinging to soaked skin, and Buck buried his face in Eddie’s neck, laughing and sobbing all at once.

 

Eddie clung to him like he was drowning and Buck was the only thing keeping him afloat.

 

“This is so stupid,” Buck murmured against his shoulder, grinning like an idiot.

 

“So stupid,” Eddie agreed, voice thick with tears, “but we’re so stupid together.”

 

Buck laughed again, high and breathless, and he felt Eddie’s chest hitch with another broken sob of laughter.

 

The rain poured on, a steady drumbeat against the world, but neither of them cared anymore. Their hearts were pounding, their clothes soaked through, their emotions completely untethered, they were late for work—but in that moment, in the middle of nowhere, on the side of a road with gravel under their knees and thunder above—

 

They were home.

 

Finally, finally home.

Chapter 26

Notes:

TW: mention of sexual abuse (more information/spoilers at the end)

Eddie was happy. No—he was ecstatic. The kind of happiness that cracked you open from the inside out and let the light pour through. It wasn’t perfect. He and Buck still had things to talk about. Things to work on. Therapy appointments circled on the calendar like tiny lifelines. But they were doing the work. They were talking. They were choosing each other. Loudly.

 

They were Buck and Eddie.

 

Colleagues.

 

Best friends.

 

Boyfriends.

 

And now, apparently, drenched boyfriends, sitting like guilty teenagers in Cap’s office after arriving late, soaked to the bone and grinning like idiots.

 

Bobby set a folder down on his desk and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Well,” he said slowly, glancing between the two very wet, very sheepish firefighters sitting before him. “This is a first.”

 

Eddie couldn’t stop smiling, clothes sticking to his skin, hair dripping water onto the floor. Buck, meanwhile, looked everywhere but at Bobby—at the bookshelves, the window, the ceiling—like a kid caught sneaking out past curfew.

 

The silence stretched just a second too long before Buck cracked under the weight of it.

 

“Whatever it is,” he blurted, “it’s Eddie’s fault.”

 

“Seriously?” Eddie turned to him, half amused, half betrayed. “For better or for worse, right?”

 

“We’re not married,” Buck mumbled.

 

“We can change that,” Eddie replied smoothly, like it was just another run-of-the-mill suggestion.

 

Buck’s eyes snapped to him, bright with something raw and unguarded. “We can?”

 

Eddie leaned back in his chair, smug and soft all at once. “I mean, I was gonna wait for a more dramatic setting, maybe a little less waterlogged, but yeah. We can.”

 

“Boys,” Bobby said, cutting in with a voice that was half exasperated parent, half amused boss.

 

Buck immediately turned to look at his hands. Eddie looked back at Bobby, still smiling like an idiot in love.

 

“You two are late,” Bobby continued, though the edge in his voice had softened. “You’re also soaked and tracking water across my station. You want to explain what happened?”

 

Buck opened his mouth, but Eddie beat him to it.

 

“There was a declaration of love,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “In the rain.”

 

Bobby blinked. “In the rain?”

 

“Yeah,” Buck muttered. “It was very cinematic. There might’ve been some shouting. Also, a puddle. Or two.”

 

“And then we… kinda lost track of time,” Eddie added sheepishly. “And our shifts.”

 

“Lost track of—” Bobby sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “So what I’m hearing is: overdue emotional breakthrough, romantic confession, missed call time, and water damage. Anything else?”

 

“Sounds about right,” Buck nodded, finally glancing up with a sheepish grin.

 

There was a long pause. Then Bobby let out a low chuckle and shook his head.

 

“Well,” Bobby said, reaching into the folder on his desk and pulling out two forms with a certain grim satisfaction, “good thing I figured something like this might be coming.”

 

Buck squinted. “Wait, what’s that?”

 

“Interpersonal Relationship Disclosure,” Bobby replied, sliding the forms across the desk toward them. “HR requires it when coworkers start dating. I want these filled out and on my desk by end of shift.”

 

“You already had them prepared?” Eddie asked, eyebrows raised.

 

Bobby gave him a look. “Let’s just say I’m not entirely surprised. I’ve been watching this slow-burn romance unfold in real time for years.”

 

Buck flushed red from his ears down to his damp collar. Eddie just chuckled and picked up a form.

 

“Fine,” Bobby said, standing up. “But first, go mop up that trail you left down the hallway. And maybe get changed before someone slips and files a report. Also, congratulations, boys. I’m happy for you.”

 

He smiled at both of them, but the one he gave Buck was brighter—deeper—and it tugged hard at Eddie’s chest. God. That was really his dad.

 

They stood, dripping but lighter somehow, like the world had shifted an inch in their favor.

 

As they turned to leave, Bobby called after them, “And Eddie?”

 

He turned. “Yeah?”

 

“If you are planning a proposal, maybe don’t do it while you're still wet and muddy in my office.”

 

Eddie gave him a mock salute. “Noted, Cap.”

 

Buck laughed as they stepped out into the hallway together, boots squeaking with every step.

 

“I still can’t believe you said that,” he said, bumping their shoulders as they walked.

 

“What, about marriage?” Eddie asked innocently.

 

“Yeah. In front of Cap.”

 

Eddie grinned, leaning in close. “You should hear what I’ve got planned for Chimney.”

 

Buck groaned. “Do I want to know?”

 

“Probably not,” Eddie said with a wink.

 

Buck shook his head, unable to stop the grin that tugged at his lips.

 

They really were them. Flawed. Growing. Drenched. In love.

 

The walk from Bobby’s office to the locker room was soggy and echoey, thanks to the squelch of their boots and the faint trail of rainwater behind them. Eddie didn’t even care. His clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, but the warmth in his chest made up for it. Every time he looked at Buck, who kept stealing glances at him like they were sharing a secret, Eddie had to fight back another stupid grin.

 

By the time they reappeared in dry clothes—clean station t-shirts and their workpants—they found the rest of the team already assembled in the loft upstairs, like some perfectly timed intervention.

 

And then it happened.

 

The moment Chimney saw them, he bolted upright from the couch, pointed dramatically, and shouted, “HA! I knew it! Pay up!”

 

“Damn it,” Hen groaned, digging into her back pocket.

 

“I told you it was gonna be post-storm,” Chimney said smugly, holding out his hand. “I said, 'those two emotionally constipated muppets are gonna have a dramatic moment in the rain', and I was right.”

 

Hen slapped a few bills into his palm, glaring like it physically pained her. Ravi followed next, rolling his eyes.

 

“Wait. What?” Buck blinked. “What the hell is going on?”

 

“You had a bet?” Eddie asked, stunned.

 

“Of course we had a bet,” Hen said. “You two have been making heart-eyes at each other for years and pretending you were just ‘really close friends.’ It was exhausting.”

 

Chimney waved his winnings in the air. “I had three theories. Number one: end-of-world confession. Number two: injury-induced clarity. Number three: rain-soaked emotional breakthrough with bonus kissing. Guess which one won?”

 

“You had a whole betting system?” Eddie repeated, somewhere between amused and horrified.

 

“We even made a Google Doc,” Ravi said from the kitchen, totally deadpan as he poured himself coffee. “There were odds. Dated predictions. Hen made a pie chart.”

 

“I did not make a pie chart,” Hen said, indignant.

 

Chimney pulled out his phone and swiped. “She totally made a pie chart.”

 

Eddie turned to Buck, wide-eyed. “Hen made a pie chart.”

 

Buck looked like he was trying to decide whether to laugh, hide under a table, or file a restraining order. “We are never living this down,” he muttered under his breath.

 

“You’re not,” Chimney agreed brightly. “Now, question—who confessed first? I need the full rundown. Was there crying? Kissing? Did someone fall in a puddle?”

 

“You are not getting the rundown,” Eddie said firmly, trying to maintain some dignity.

 

“That’s a yes to the puddle,” Hen noted.

 

Buck let out a groan and flopped onto the couch like he’d just finished a double shift. “This is a nightmare.”

 

“You’re just mad you didn’t bet on yourselves,” Chimney said smugly.

 

“You’re not supposed to bet on your friends’ love lives!” Buck shot back.

 

“We bet on you two,” Hen corrected. “It’s different. It was basically a public service.”

 

Ravi raised his mug. “Honestly, it was inevitable. We just monetized the suspense.”

 

Eddie sank into the space beside Buck, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Unbelievable.”

 

“You were soaked,” Chimney pointed out. “Theatrically soaked. You walked in like the last two minutes of a Nicholas Sparks movie.”

 

Buck reached for a throw pillow and half-heartedly chucked it at Chimney, like he hadn’t said the exact same thing earlier.

 

Chim dodged it with the speed of a man who’d been expecting retaliation since minute one.

 

“By the way,” Bobby called from the kitchen as he strolled past, coffee in hand, “paperwork. End of shift. Don’t make me chase you down.”

 

Eddie raised a hand without even looking back. “Got it, Cap.”

 

Buck leaned in, lowering his voice. “We really should’ve just made out in a car like normal people.”

 

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, but then Chim wouldn’t be a few bucks richer.”

 

“Hundreds,” Chimney corrected smugly.

 

Buck’s head snapped around. “Hundreds?”

 

Chim held up an imaginary thick stack of bills like it was a trophy. “Ravi and Lucy chipped in to sweeten the pot. So did Taylor. And Karen. And Athena. And Bobby. Even May and Josh got in on it. This win—” he did a little dance “—is mine.”

 

“Cap?!” Buck yelled, scandalized, just as Bobby vanished conveniently down the stairs.

 

“Unbelievable,” Eddie muttered, rubbing a hand down his face again.

 

“Maddie’s gonna be ecstatic,” Chim sang, leaning deeper into the couch like he’d just won the Super Bowl.

 

“My own sister,” Buck muttered, shooting Eddie a look.

 

“To be fair,” Hen cut in, “Maddie was against this. She refused to participate.”

 

“And I quote,” Ravi chimed in, holding up an imaginary microphone, “‘We should not meddle in their private lives. If they finally come to the conclusion that they’re in love with each other, we should be happy for them—not bet money on it.’”

 

“Yeah,” Buck grinned. “That’s my sister.”

 

“Besides, she already knew,” Eddie added, casual as anything. “She’s basically the reason we’re together now.”

 

“No!” Chim moaned, clutching his chest like he’d been stabbed. “Take that back!”

 

Hen stood abruptly, reaching for her cash. “So your wife meddled and you didn’t disclose that? That’s tampering.”

 

“I didn’t know!” Chim yelped, scrambling off the couch, clutching his money like it was sacred. “Besides you had private conversations with Eddie all the time! Who says you didn’t meddle?”

 

Ravi and Hen gave each other a look—then tackled him to the cushions with merciless efficiency.

 

“Give it back, cheat!” Hen growled, snatching her bills.

 

“I’m gonna snitch on you in the group chat,” Ravi added, already typing.

 

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly and turned to Buck—who was watching the chaos unfold with a soft, stunned smile. The sight of Buck smiling made Eddie smile too.

 

He couldn’t help it.

 

Buck was his boyfriend now.

 

Buck was his boyfriend.

 

*

 

Later that evening, Eddie stood at the stove, nervously stirring a pot of pasta sauce for the third time, even though it was already done and the heat was turned off. Buck was beside him, drying the plates that had been air-drying for twenty minutes, his movements a little too focused for a simple chore. The kitchen smelled like garlic and basil and impending panic.

 

They were both stalling. Badly.

 

Eddie glanced at the clock—just after 7. Chris would soon be asking why they were not having dinner yet, but he was still consumed by the game on his tablet probably. Which meant they were out of excuses.

 

“You sure about this?” Buck asked under his breath, voice pitched low like he didn’t want to disturb the spaghetti.

 

Eddie looked over at him. Buck had that look again—the one he wore during dangerous calls, right before jumping into something life-threatening.

 

“I mean… no,” Eddie admitted. “But it’s time.”

 

Buck nodded, setting down the towel, but Eddie could still see the nervous energy humming under his skin. “Okay. Dinner it is.”

 

They set the table in silence—three plates, parmesan, garlic bread, water for Chris and for Buck, a beer for Eddie he hadn’t even opened. The entire thing felt rehearsed and yet wildly out of their control.

 

“Chris! Dinner!” Eddie called out, a little too sharply.

 

Chris rolled in a few seconds later, tablet in hand, hoodie slightly rumpled, and face bright with curiosity. “Smells good,” he said, eyeing the table. “Wait. Did you cook?”

 

Eddie gave him a dry look as he pulled out a chair. “Why does everyone say that like I’m banned from the kitchen?”

 

Chris just shrugged as he sat. “Because you almost set the microwave on fire last month.”

 

“That was Buck’s leftover lasagna!”

 

“You still pushed the wrong buttons.”

 

Eddie threw a glance at Buck for backup, but Buck was suddenly very interested in pouring water into Chris’s glass.

 

They all sat, and for a few minutes, things were normal. Comforting. Forks scraping plates, bread being passed, Chris giving a play-by-play of his new video game strategy.

 

But Eddie felt every bite like a countdown.

 

Eventually, he set his fork down and wiped his hands on a napkin.

 

“Hey, Chris?” he asked gently.

 

Chris paused mid-twirl of spaghetti. “Yeah?”

 

Eddie exchanged a quick glance with Buck—who looked like he’d rather run into a burning building barefoot. Which was weird, right? Chris would be fine with this. At least… Eddie hoped so. He had already taken his father coming out very well, there was only so much a child could take after all.

 

Shit. Now Eddie was as nervous as Buck.

 

“There’s something we want to talk to you about.”

 

Chris’s eyes flicked between them, his expression neutral but attentive. “What’d you do?”

 

Buck nearly dropped his fork. “Nothing bad! Nobody’s in trouble.”

 

Eddie reached across the table, resting a hand over his son’s. “It’s just… something important. About Buck and me.”

 

Chris tilted his head. Waiting. No fear, no assumptions, just open and curious, like always.

 

Eddie inhaled, slowly. “We’re… together. Like… really together… Dating.”

 

There it was. Out in the open.

 

Buck visibly stopped breathing.

 

Eddie’s hand tightened around Chris’s without meaning to. “But listen—we need you to know this: if you’re not okay with it, we’ll stop. We mean it, Chris. We love you more than anything. Nothing happens if you’re not comfortable.”

 

Chris blinked. Once. Then again. Still quiet. He looked from his father to Buck and back.

 

Eddie’s stomach twisted.

 

Buck cleared his throat. “Yeah. We’d… we’d call it quits. No questions asked.”

 

Silence.

 

Chris set down his fork slowly and leaned back in his chair. His face unreadable.

 

Eddie’s heart thudded in his ears. Had they pushed too far? Had he?

 

And then Chris squinted at them, like they were both idiots.

 

“Well, finally.”

 

Buck blinked. “Wait—what?”

 

Eddie felt his brain short-circuit. “Finally? That’s your response?”

 

Chris gave a dramatic shrug. “I’ve been waiting for you two to get your act together for, like, forever. You think I didn’t notice the way you stare at each other when you think no one’s watching? I’m living in this house too, you know.”

 

Eddie sat back, speechless.

 

Buck looked personally attacked. “We do not—”

 

Chris raised his eyebrows. “Buck, you literally made him pancakes in the shape of a heart two weeks ago.”

 

Eddie buried his face in his hand. “That was not supposed to be a heart.”

 

“It had whipped cream eyes,” Chris deadpanned.

 

Buck coughed. “Okay, maybe it was a heart.”

 

Chris grinned like he’d just checkmated them both. “You guys are basically married already. This is just… official now.”

 

Eddie stared at him, still half-expecting the other shoe to drop. “So… you’re really okay with this?”

 

Chris nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. You’re happy. Buck’s already family. This just makes it official.”

 

Eddie exhaled, a slow, deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His eyes prickled unexpectedly, and he blinked fast, looking away. “Okay. Good. That’s… good.”

 

Across the table, Buck was still processing.

 

Chris turned back to his pasta, totally casual. “So… who won the bet?”

 

Eddie froze mid-chew, blinking. “You knew about the bet?”

 

Chris nodded like it was no big deal. “Denny told me. And Athena mentioned it at brunch once.”

 

Buck nearly dropped his fork again. “Athena?!”

 

Eddie gave him a look. That sounded a suspicious lot like “My mother?!” just like when he had yelled “Cap?!” it had sounded like “Dad?!”.

 

Chris shrugged, sipping his water. “She said it was only fair to place odds after watching the slowest romance in history unfold. And one of you broke something in her kitchen, or something.”

 

Eddie dropped his head into his hands. “Oh my God.”

 

“Wait, who did win?” Chris asked again, perking up now. “Was it Chim?”

 

Buck groaned. “Of course it was Chim.”

 

Chris grinned. “Figures. He’s been way too smug lately. He said something about a ‘rain kiss jackpot’.”

 

“I knew he named it,” Eddie muttered.

 

“Hen came close,” Chris added between bites. “She had next month on the calendar, though. And Bobby was apparently holding out for next Valentine’s Day. He had no confidence in you at all.”

 

Buck’s mouth fell open. “Bobby bet on Valentine’s?!”

 

“Karen said he made a whole spreadsheet,” Chris reported.

 

Buck rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to need that spreadsheet… and then I’m going to light it on fire.”

 

Chris kept eating, totally unfazed. “Also, May said it only counts if it’s mutual, and Ravi said, quote, ‘They better figure it out soon or I’m locking them in a closet’.” Chris twirled a strand of spaghetti. “Technically I win, too. I said this week.”

 

Eddie stared at him. “You guessed the exact window?”

 

Chris smirked. “What can I say? I live with one of you and watch the other make heart-shaped pancakes.”

 

Buck groaned into his hands. “We’re never gonna live this down.”

 

“Nope,” Chris said cheerfully. “You might as well kiss at the station next time. Get it over with.”

 

Eddie shook his head, laughter bubbling in his chest despite the embarrassment. “You’re definitely Chim’s kid.”

 

Chris grinned. “You think Chimney would’ve bought me this tablet?”

 

“…Point taken.”

 

By the time dinner ended, the air had shifted. Everything felt lighter. They cleared the plates, wiped the counters, turned on a movie. Chris ended up nestled on the couch between them, tucked under his favorite fleece blanket, feet curled against Eddie’s side and head leaning toward Buck’s shoulder.

 

Eddie glanced down at his son, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest as sleep tugged at him. No matter how old he got, he was still his baby boy.

 

And Buck—Buck was on the other side, sitting close, his legs outstretched in front of him, hand brushing Chris’ hair. The TV flickered gently in the dim room.

 

Buck turned to him, voice soft. “We survived.”

 

Eddie looked at him, then down at Chris, then back. “Yeah,” he whispered. “We did.”

 

“I’m gonna bring him to bed,” Buck murmured, carefully rising with Chris nestled against his chest like he belonged there. Because he did. It was nothing new—Buck carrying his kid, tucking him in, being here like he always was. Except now... everything was different. And nothing was.

 

Eddie watched them go, the soft shuffling of feet on the hallway floor disappearing into the quiet hum of the house. The living room still smelled like marinara and laughter, like family, like home. But beneath it, there was a current tugging low in Eddie’s gut—buzzing with anticipation, need, something heavier.

 

He rose to his feet, switching off the TV and clearing the table.

 

By the time Buck returned, Eddie was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded—but it wasn’t defensive. It was just... nerves.

 

Buck smiled at him, that soft, post-Chris smile he always got after tucking him in. “He’s out cold. Barely even rolled over.”

 

Something about that smile undid him. Something about Buck, still glowing from the inside out because of Christopher, made Eddie’s chest ache in the best way.

 

“C’mere,” Eddie said.

 

Buck stepped in without hesitation, and as soon as he was within reach, Eddie curled a hand around his neck and kissed him.

 

The kiss started tender, warm. Familiar. But it didn’t stay that way. Because Buck made a soft noise—thatnoise—and Eddie was gone.

 

The kiss deepened fast. Buck’s hands clutched at his hips, drawing them close. Eddie’s fingers slipped beneath the hem of Buck’s T-shirt, rough palms skimming skin, feeling the heat of him, the tension winding tighter.

 

Buck broke the kiss to yank his shirt over his head, and Eddie barely gave him time to breathe before claiming his mouth again, walking him back until Buck hit the wall with a low, breathless huff. Their bodies pressed together, hungry and hot.

 

“I want you,” Eddie murmured between kisses, low and breathless, suddenly confident. Suddenly daring to voice one of his newer desires to explore.

 

Buck grinned against his mouth. “Yeah, I got that—”

 

Eddie kissed down his jaw, tongue flicking the curve of Buck’s neck, hand sliding low. “I want to take care of you.”

 

Buck’s breath hitched. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Yeah, I—me too—”

 

“No, I mean…” Eddie pulled back enough to meet his eyes. His hand slid down Buck’s chest, fingers drifting toward his waistband. “I want to have you.”

 

Buck blinked.

 

Eddie pressed forward slightly, mouthing at Buck’s neck again, rolling his hips so there was no mistaking the meaning. “Let me take you to bed. Let me be inside you.”

 

And just like that—the entire energy shifted. Buck’s fingers curled against Eddie’s hips, but then they stilled.

 

Eddie felt the shift before he saw it. Buck’s mouth slowed. His body went tense. When Eddie leaned back to look at him again, Buck’s face was tight, like he was trying not to show something.

 

“What?” Eddie asked, brows pulling together. “What is it?”

 

Buck hesitated, eyes flicking away. “Nothing.”

 

“Buck.”

 

Buck looked back at him for half a second, before looking away again. “I just—it’s not—That’s not really something I... do.”

 

Eddie pulled back slightly, heart still pounding but in a different rhythm now—slower, heavier. He could feel the heat draining, but the emotion stayed.

 

“You’ve never…?”

 

Buck’s jaw flexed. “Not for a long time. Not since...” He shook his head, gaze distant. “I don’t—It’s complicated.”

 

Eddie nodded slowly, the fog of arousal thinning around him as something softer, deeper took its place.

 

“It’s okay,” he said again, this time firmer. “I don’t need that. Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want it.”

 

Buck still looked uncomfortable—less turned off and more... ashamed. There was a flicker of something else in his eyes. Fear.

 

Eddie hated that look. Hated it on him. Hated that he’d somehow put it there, even if accidentally. Even if he didn’t understand what had just happened.

 

“Buck.” He stepped in close again, arms around him, chest to chest. “You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. This thing we’re building? It doesn’t start with a checklist. I want you. However you come.”

 

Buck let out a long breath, sagging into him.

 

Eddie held him for a minute, just breathing him in. Feeling the thrum of his heart start to steady beneath his hands. But Eddie’s heart pounded restless. That fear in Buck’s eyes… what was that? Where did it come from?

 

Eventually, Buck whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

 

“You didn’t,” Eddie said, and kissed his temple.

 

They stood like that for a while, foreheads pressed, bodies warm and quiet.

 

Then Eddie leaned back slightly and whispered, “C’mon. Let’s just go lie down.”

 

Buck nodded, silently. They left the hallway behind them, fingers brushing but not fully lacing together this time.

 

Eddie laid awake long after that. Buck was in his arms now, back pressed against Eddie’s chest, his breathing soft and steady. Eddie had expected it to be the other way around, like usual—that Buck would fold himself around him like always. But tonight, Buck had turned into him, silent, and Eddie had instinctively pulled him close, wrapping an arm over his waist, tucking his face into the curve of his neck.

 

Now, with Buck’s body warm and solid against his own, Eddie just… watched the wall. Listened to the soft whir of the fan. Let his thoughts wander.

 

It wasn’t that he was disappointed. He truly wasn’t. He’d meant what he said—he didn’t need anything from Buck other than what he was willing to give. But the hesitation earlier had clung to the edges of the night like damp fog, stubborn and quiet. It wasn’t just a preference. Eddie had felt it—that shift in Buck’s body, the way he’d gone still, pulled back. Like he was ashamed.

 

And that’s what kept Eddie awake now. Not the lack of sex. Not the pause.

 

The shame. The fear.

 

That wasn’t Buck. Not the man Eddie knew. Not the man who kissed him with abandon, laughed with his whole chest, loved with his entire body.

 

So, where the hell had that shame and fear come from?

 

Eddie’s arm tightened instinctively around Buck’s waist. His fingers slid lightly along the line of his ribs, careful not to wake him. He buried his face a little deeper into the back of Buck’s shoulder, breathing him in—clean skin, laundry soap, something warm and faintly citrus.

 

There are people who just don’t like to bottom, he reminded himself.

 

That had to be it. Buck was confident, sure of himself, but maybe this just wasn’t something he liked. That was allowed. That didn’t mean anything was wrong.

 

Eddie tried to believe that. Really tried.

 

But the look in Buck’s eyes earlier—it had been something more.

 

“I lied to you.”

 

The words broke the stillness of the night.

 

Eddie startled, only slightly but his breath caught in his chest. Buck hadn’t moved. Hadn’t shifted in his arms. But his voice was clear, low, and tight with something raw. Not the voice of a man dreaming. No, Buck was awake. Had been awake. Probably the whole time.

 

Eddie’s heart kicked once, sharp. “What?”

 

There was a pause—long enough to make him think maybe Buck wouldn’t say anything else. Then he heard the exhale. Staggered. Like the first breath of someone on the verge of a cry.

 

“I lied to you,” Buck said again, quieter this time, like the truth was heavier now that it was out.

 

Eddie blinked into the darkness, trying to make sense of it. “Okay,” he said carefully, not sure where this was going, but following. “About what?”

 

It stayed silent. Eddie swallowed hard, but he didn’t let go, didn’t ease his hold, like Buck might slip away if he did. Carefully, he slid his hand up over Buck’s chest, palm splayed wide like it could ground him.

 

And that’s when he felt it. Buck’s heart was hammering against his ribs like it was trying to outrun something. Not sleep. Not nerves. Panic.

 

Eddie’s own breath caught again.

 

Jesus. It was like Buck was in freefall and hadn’t told anyone he’d jumped.

 

“When I told you my first time was fine,” Buck answered, nearly soundless.

 

It took Eddie a moment to understand Buck was talking about their conversation from months ago. His first time sharing a bed with a guy. With Kinard. He’d said it had been fine. Not special, not bad. Just... fine.

 

Eddie pressed a tender kiss to the nape of Buck’s neck. It was all he could do. A silent promise: I’m here for you.

 

It stayed silent again, but Eddie still felt Buck’s heart thumping. After what felt like an eternity, Buck inhaled shakily.

 

 “I thought I wanted it. Thought… that’s just what you did, right? He said it’d feel good. He’s older. More experienced. I figured… I’d catch up. If I didn’t like it, it was just because I wasn’t used to it yet.”

 

Eddie’s stomach twisted. Buck was saying the words so plainly, so quietly, but the edges of them were jagged. They scraped going in.

 

“But it didn’t feel good,” Buck said. “He didn’t… he didn’t hurt me on purpose, not technically. But he didn’t wait. Didn’t check in. Didn’t stop.”

 

And Eddie’s heart shattered. Because he recognized that phrasing. “Not technically” was Buck-language. That was Buck trying to minimize something traumatic. Trying to make it sound palatable. Trying to make himselfpalatable.

 

Buck’s hand drifted to where Eddie’s was resting on his chest and laced their fingers together. “I told myself it was normal. That I was just being dramatic. That maybe it wasn’t supposed to feel good the first time.” He paused. “But it felt like—like I was being split open. Like I wasn’t really there. Like I was just... something to get off inside.”

 

Eddie’s jaw clenched. He wanted to break something. Wanted to break someone.

 

“I bled. A lot,” Buck added, almost clinically.

 

Jesus Christ.

 

“He just said it was my fault for not relaxing.”

 

The words came out flat. Detached. Like Buck wasn’t talking about his own body, his own pain. Like he’d long since removed himself from the memory because it hurt too much to hold.

 

Eddie couldn’t breathe. He pressed his forehead to Buck’s shoulder, eyes burning.

 

“They had to stitch me up,” Buck whispered.

 

And Eddie bit down on his own lip to keep from crying. Buck was telling him this like it was a line in a medical chart. Like it hadn’t left scars inside him that Eddie could feel even now. Like it wasn’t the reason Buck had gone stiff under him earlier, all instinct and no words.

 

“You dated for half a year,” Eddie murmured, more to himself than to Buck.

 

“Yeah. Alcohol helped to relax. So did poppers.”

 

Oh God. Oh God.

 

Eddie closed his eyes. The urge to scream was barely contained. Not just for Buck, but for what had been stolen from him. For the way Buck still spoke like it had been a bad hookup and not a clear, grotesque violation of trust. For months.

 

Eddie finally found his voice. It was hoarse and thick. “Buck—”

 

“I wanted to say yes to you,” Buck cut in, voice cracking now. “I do want that. With you. Just—God, not like that. Not rushed, not fast, not in the kitchen when my head’s still buzzing and I’m trying to pretend I’m not terrified I’ll be bad at it again.”

 

Eddie’s chest felt like it was on fire. He pressed another kiss to his shoulder, then shifted to gently guide Buck onto his back. He wanted—needed—to see him.

 

And there he was. Staring up at the ceiling, expression blank, eyes dry. Until they met Eddie’s. Then Buck blinked and frowned.

 

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his thumb brushing under Eddie’s eye, as if he should be the one comforting Eddie.

 

Eddie grasped his hand and kissed it. “Because I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, voice hoarse. “You didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that. You should’ve been cherished. Safe. Loved.”

 

“No reason to cry over.” Buck gave him a small, sad smile. “Shit happens.”

 

And the worst thing was, Buck would have never reacted this way had someone else been through that and told him. He’d even bleed out for a complete stranger.

 

Eddie almost lost it again. Because Buck said it like it was a scraped knee. A flat tire. Not the reason he’d flinched away from someone who loved him deeply. He wanted to shake him, scream at him that he was allowed to be sad. That he was allowed to acknowledge what Kinard had done. That he had used and abused him.

 

Kinard should be in jail, not flying helicopters around like some hero. And he even dared to speak to Buck like they were friends. Buck had wanted Tommy to move in with him.

 

God.

 

“I want you to hear me,” Eddie said, lowering himself until they were face to face again. “You don’t ever have to pretend with me. Not ever again.”

 

Buck swallowed hard, but nodded.

 

“You don’t owe me anything. Not your body. Not your past. Not any version of yourself that you think I want.” He leaned forward, touching their foreheads. “But thank you. For trusting me with this.”

 

Another nod. A silent thank you.

 

Buck turned on his side again, back toward Eddie, and Eddie followed without hesitation, curling around him, pressing himself close. His hand returned to Buck’s chest, his heartbeat still thudding beneath his palm. But slower now. Less panicked.

 

And in the darkness, as the house settled around them, Eddie held on tight. Not because Buck needed to be held, but because he wanted to. Because Buck deserved it. Because maybe—maybe, tonight—he’d start to believe that love didn’t have to come with conditions.

 

And Eddie would keep proving it. One day at a time.

Notes:

Buck doesn't have nice memories of bottoming while in a relationship with Tommy. The first time, he bled and needed stitches. Tommy blamed him for not relaxing. It is hinted that this was a recurring issue throughout their six-month-long relationship. Buck mentions using alcohol and poppers to be able to relax during sex with Tommy.

Chapter 27

Notes:

:3

Buck honestly thought the whole thing was a bit much. But apparently, he and Eddie finally getting together called for an actual celebration—at Jerry’s, their usual bar, which was now decked out like someone had thrown a mini wedding reception without telling them.

 

Everyone was there. The 118. Maddie. Athena. May. Michael and David. Karen. Josh. Linda. Tía Pepa. Even Adriana and Sophia had flown in for the weekend. It was loud, messy, way too heartfelt, and Buck had never felt more seen in his entire life.

 

It was over the top. But so was this happiness. So was this feeling, this calm, whole, chest-full ache of being loved. Because, as unbelievable as it still sounded in his head, Eddie loved him. Loved him. Not in a halfway kind of way. Not in secret. Not as a maybe. But fully, out loud, all in. And Buck—who’d always been the one leaping first, hoping someone would catch him—had finally landed somewhere safe.

 

Since they’d gotten together, he and Eddie had talked more than they ever had. About everything. Their insecurities. Their first night together. The horrible day after. The guilt Eddie still carried like a second skin. Buck had to keep reminding him, gently, again and again, that he was already forgiven.

 

Eddie had wanted to talk about Tommy, too, but Buck had shut it down. That night had scraped him raw. He’d said more than he meant to. Been more open than he was ready for. And Eddie—Eddie had looked so sad for him, so soft, and Buck just… couldn’t handle that yet.

A warm presence at his side pulled him out of his thoughts.

 

“Hey, mi amor,” Eddie murmured as he dropped into the seat beside him. He leaned in without hesitation, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple and letting his lips linger for a beat.

 

Buck’s eyes fluttered closed for just a second. The tension he hadn’t realized he was holding melted under the warmth of that touch. When he turned to look at Eddie, his smile was soft and instinctive, eyes crinkling at the corners.

 

“Hey,” he said quietly, like it was a secret between them. “You enjoying yourself?”

 

Eddie let out a quiet laugh and leaned back in his seat, shoulder brushing Buck’s. “Yeah. I still can’t believe my sisters are here. I’ve missed them.”

 

Buck glanced over at Adriana and Sophia who were in the middle of the makeshift dance floor with Tía Pepa, and chuckled. “They’re incredible.”

 

“And loud,” Eddie added with a grin.

 

“Loud is good,” Buck said, his voice gentler than before. “Feels alive.” He paused, taking a sip of his beer, then added, “Your Tía Pepa’s a riot. I love her.”

 

Eddie laughed, a low, fond sound that made Buck’s chest ache in the best way. “She’s the best,” he agreed. “She’s been trying to marry me off since I was sixteen.”

 

Buck bumped his knee lightly against Eddie’s. “Sorry to ruin her matchmaking streak.”

 

Eddie turned his head, gaze soft and steady as it landed on Buck. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, voice quiet but weighted. “You gave her exactly what she wanted.”

 

That caught Buck off guard, not because it was unexpected, but because of the way Eddie said it. Certain. Sure. Like he meant every syllable.

 

They sat like that for a while, not needing more words, nursing their drinks and watching their messy, joyful, chaotic family spin around them.

 

Chim was dramatically retelling a call from last week, beer sloshing dangerously in his hand as Hen doubled over in laughter beside him and Athena tried, and failed, to hide a smile. Maddie stood near the jukebox with Karen, both deep in conversation, hips swaying absently to the music. Tía Pepa was still on the dance floor, hands in the air as she spun Adriana and Sophia in fast, clumsy circles—all three of them laughing like they were twenty years younger. Bobby leaned against the bar, catching up on missed time with Michael.

 

Someone had brought out flan. Someone else was calling for tequila shots.

 

It was all so alive . So full of breath and sound and love. And for the first time in a long time, Buck didn’t feel like he was watching it from the outside.

 

He was in it . Wanted. Chosen. Home.

 

He reached over and laced his fingers with Eddie’s under the table. Eddie gave his hand a soft squeeze in response, like a silent I know.

 

Sophia and Adriana eventually peeled themselves away from the dance floor, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, and made their way over.

 

“God, I forgot how much tía dances like she’s in a telenovela,” Adriana said breathlessly, flopping into the seat across from Buck.

 

“She nearly took out the speaker with that spin,” Sophia added, grinning as she tucked a damp curl behind her ear.

 

Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “She’s just getting started.”

 

They settled into an easy rhythm—Adriana teasing Eddie about his dance skills, Sophia recounting the horror of sitting between Josh and Eddie during dinner, Buck chiming in with sharp one-liners that had Eddie snorting into his drink. It was effortless, like no time had passed, like they’d always been this unit.

 

Buck leaned back, smiling to himself as the warmth of it all washed over him.

 

“I’m gonna get us another round,” he said eventually, standing and stretching slightly. “Same for everyone?”

 

A chorus of “yes please” and “bless you” followed as he made his way to the bar, weaving through a few clusters of familiar faces—other firefighters, off-duty medics, the usual.

 

That’s when he caught sight of the 217. They’d just slipped through the door, still damp from the drizzle outside, shaking out jackets and slapping shoulders in greeting. It wasn’t anything unusual—they frequented Jerry’s too—but for a brief second, Buck’s chest tightened. Not with fear exactly. Just awareness. The shift in air when someone walks in who knows how you bleed.

 

He didn’t linger. Just nodded at one of them in passing, a quick lift of his chin, and turned back toward the bar, flagging Jerry down.

 

“Busy night, Jer,” Buck said, flashing a grin.

 

Jerry wiped his hands on a towel and huffed out a laugh, the deep lines around his mouth creasing with familiarity. “Thanks to the LAFD, as usual. You all keep my lights on and my fridge full of Modelo.”

 

Buck chuckled. “Happy to be of service.”

 

Jerry glanced out at the crowd, shaking his head fondly. “You know, I’ve owned this place twenty-six years. I’ve never seen a crew that parties as hard as they work. I’ve also never seen a guy get the whole damn department to show up just because he finally locked it down with someone.”

 

Buck snorted. “Yeah, well, took me long enough.”

 

Jerry winked. “Worth the wait, huh?”

 

Buck didn’t say anything to that, just smiled, because the answer was so obvious it didn’t need saying.

 

“All right,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket and glancing at the message from Eddie. He’d sent him a list with drinks because he knew Buck’s brain couldn’t contain the information long enough to get the orders right. “I need two more beers, a ginger ale for Hen, another white wine for Maddie, a michelada for Karen, and something terrifyingly pink that Adriana pointed to on the menu.” He followed the rest of the orders in order.

 

Jerry gave a long, exaggerated whistle. “Jesus. What is this, a wedding?”

 

Buck shrugged with a lopsided smile. “Basically.”

 

“Take a seat, Buck. That’s gonna take us a sec.”

 

Buck nodded and took a seat at the bar, drumming his fingers absently against the wood, watching the bustle of Jerry and his younger bartender mix drinks behind the counter. His gaze wandered briefly—Hen and Chim had joined Bobby and Michael near the pool table, David was talking with Karen about some science project, Athena, Maddie and Tía Pepa were laughing loudly encouraging May and Ravi who were learning a new choreography. And Eddie—

 

Buck’s eyes paused on Eddie, still at their table, head tipped toward Sophia as she laughed at something Adriana said. Warmth bloomed low in Buck’s chest. It was so good it almost ached. He was mid-thought when a voice cut in behind him.

 

“Hi, Evan.”

 

His spine stiffened before he could help it. He turned, bracing himself, and found Tommy standing next him, one hand casually gripping the back of the barstool next to his. He looked relaxed, smiling at Buck.

 

Buck smiled back, because that’s what you do when your body goes cold. You smile. His body wanted to run. His mind reached for politeness like it was armor.

 

“Hey, man,” Buck said, tone even. “We—uh—kind of took over the place tonight.”

 

“Yeah, I can tell,” Tommy said, eyes flicking over the crowd. “Didn’t know this was a... celebration.”

 

“Yeah. It is,” Buck said simply.

 

Tommy nodded. A pause stretched between them. “I’ve been thinking about you.” Then, casually—too casually—he reached out, brushing his fingers along the back of Buck’s neck, like he was smoothing something down. “Didn’t expect to see you today,” he murmured.

 

Buck’s vision tunneled for a second. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. Every hair on his body stood on end. His lungs forgot how to function. His whole world narrowed to the point of contact, his brain scrambling to make sense of it—

 

—and then it was gone.

 

No.

 

It was yanked away.

 

In a blur of motion, Tommy was ripped away from him. A barstool tipped and clattered to the floor with a crash as he stumbled backward. Buck’s breath caught in his throat as Eddie came out of nowhere and slammed into Tommy like a battering ram, all fire and fury, his shoulder crashing into the other man’s chest with enough force to knock the air out of the room.

 

“Don’t touch him!” Eddie roared, his voice tearing through the bar like a shot. Conversations died mid-laugh. Heads turned.

 

Then his fist came down—once, twice—vicious and fast.

 

Each punch landed with a sickening crack, the sound sharp and meaty and final. Tommy tried to cover his face, grunting, arms flying up in defense, but Eddie was relentless. His knuckles were split open, face carved in fury, no hesitation in his rage. Blood smeared across Tommy’s cheek, wet and fast and red.

 

Buck’s world snapped back into motion. He scrambled to his feet, stomach twisting. “Eddie!” he shouted, stumbling forward.

 

He grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, tried to pull him off, tried to reach him, but Eddie didn’t hear him. Didn’t see him. He was somewhere else entirely, unrecognizable in the fury etched into every taut line of his body. His elbow swung back mid-motion—

 

—and cracked against Buck’s face.

 

Pain exploded over his right eye. He staggered backward, hand flying up to clutch the sharp sting. Warmth spilled down from his eyebrow, fast and sticky. “Shit,” he cursed, blinking through the hot haze of blood now blurring his vision.

 

Chaos erupted.

 

“Eddie!” Bobby’s voice rang out, thunderous.

 

Boots pounded. A glass shattered somewhere. People backed away fast, a circle forming in fear and awe.

 

Bobby and Michael lunged, grabbing Eddie from behind—one on each arm—and hauled him off Tommy with sheer force.

 

Eddie resisted at first, chest heaving, teeth bared, eyes still wild. Threats in rapid Spanish left his mouth. His fists twitched, as if desperate for one more swing. But then his eyes landed on Buck.

 

The fight drained from his body all at once, his shoulders collapsing in on themselves like he couldn’t hold himself upright anymore. His hands dropped, fingers flexing uselessly at his sides. His mouth opened as he stared at Buck.

 

He stopped fighting.

 

He let them hold him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered, his voice shaking. “I didn’t see—I didn’t see you.”

 

Buck—still breathing hard, blood running hot down his cheek—just stood there, pulse jackhammering in his ears, trying to make sense of what the hell had just happened.

 

David, already crouched next to Tommy, began checking his pulse and gently tilting his chin to assess the swelling. “He’s breathing. Pupils reactive,” he said with that calm, clinical cadence that meant something worse had been narrowly avoided.

 

Buck just stood there, staring down at the blood smeared across his own hand. His blood. Thick and dark and still warm. It streaked along the heel of his palm, tacky now. A smear of it painted Eddie’s sleeve too—stark against the pale cotton.

 

He couldn’t look away.

 

His ears were still ringing when Maddie appeared in front of him like a gust of wind. “Buck!” Her voice was sharp with fear, her hands already in his hair, fingers gentle but urgent. “You’re bleeding—God, Buck, hold still, just let me—”

 

“I’m fine,” he said, or tried to. His voice came out hoarse, distant. Like it didn’t belong to him.

 

But he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch or step back.

 

Because he couldn’t.

 

Because the second Tommy’s fingers had brushed the back of his neck, something inside him had snapped. Or cracked. Or simply collapsed in on itself. And suddenly the floor hadn’t felt solid beneath his feet anymore. He’d been right back there—helpless, breath caught in his throat, skin crawling, stomach lurching, mind clawing for escape.

 

And Eddie… Eddie had seen it. Had felt it. And he’d exploded like a man with nothing left to lose.

 

Buck could still hear the thud of fists on flesh. Still see the wild fury in Eddie’s eyes, the barely restrained grief and rage and love that had spilled out all at once, devastating in its honesty.

 

Is this what people meant when they said they hurt when their significant others were hurting?

 

He wasn’t sure what made him sit. Maybe it was Maddie’s hand on his shoulder, or the way the ground swayed a little when he shifted. Either way, suddenly he was in his chair, his hand pressed to the cut above his brow, a napkin doing a poor job of stemming the warm trickle of blood still sliding along his temple.

 

“Shit,” Maddie muttered. “You’re gonna need stitches.”

 

He gave a tiny shake of his head, more to clear the fog than disagree. “It’s fine.”

 

It wasn’t. But he couldn’t say that.

 

Across the room, David and Hen were already lifting Tommy between them, Hen murmuring vitals under her breath. “He’s conscious. Swelling along the zygomatic arch. Possible fracture,” she said as she helped sling Tommy’s arm over her shoulder. “We’ll take him to Cedars-Sinai—get a CT and rule out any cranial bleed.”

 

Buck barely looked at them.

 

Athena appeared near the edge of Buck’s blurry peripheral vision, badge mockingly gleaming under the bar lights. “Eddie,” she said, voice steady. Not warm. Not cold. Just measured. “We’re gonna need to talk. You know that.”

 

Buck turned his head in time to see Eddie nod, the movement jerky and tight. He looked wrecked. Blood on his knuckles. Hands limp at his sides like they didn’t belong to him anymore.

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. His voice was raw. “I know.”

 

Athena gave a small nod. “Later. Not here.”

 

And then she turned and helped usher patrons back from the scene—clearing space, asserting calm with the cool ease of a seasoned cop. Jerry was already wiping blood off the bar counter with a rag that would never be clean again, muttering under his breath.

 

The chaos was receding, but Buck could still feel it echoing inside him.

 

He didn’t notice Eddie was moving towards him until he heard the hesitant shuffle of footsteps. When he looked up, Eddie was there—standing just in front of him, not quite close enough to touch, but close enough to feel.

 

And God, the look in his eyes.

 

Buck had seen guilt before. He knew what it looked like. But this was devastation.

 

“I hit you,” Eddie said, his voice barely a whisper. “Fuck, Buck, I—”

 

Buck reached out first. Not much—just two fingers brushing the inside of Eddie’s wrist. “You didn’t mean to,” he said softly. “You were protecting me.”

 

Eddie flinched like that hurt worse. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Maddie pressed another napkin gently to Buck’s brow, but her touch was quiet, background noise. The real current was between him and Eddie—wound tight, humming with unsaid things.

 

Buck exhaled slowly, like the last breath squeezed from a balloon that had been stretched too tight. His chest ached. His throat felt scraped raw. And his hands—God, they were still trembling, even as he tried to press them flat against his jeans to hide it.

 

He barely noticed Chim arriving until he spoke.

 

“Let’s go,” Chim said gently but firmly. “You need stitches.”

 

Maddie didn’t wait for Buck to argue. She reached up, swapping the blood-soaked napkin with a fresh one and folding his hand around it. Her touch was soft, grounding. “Hold that,” she murmured, like she didn’t trust him not to bleed out on the floor.

 

Buck rose stiffly to his feet. The bar tilted for half a second before it steadied.

 

“I’m fine,” he said again, though it came out more like a breath than a protest.

 

“No, you’re not,” Maddie snapped, her voice cracking slightly. But she didn’t push it further.

 

Eddie took one step forward, eyes still locked on Buck like he couldn’t stop looking, like he was afraid Buck might vanish if he blinked. “Buck—”

 

But Chim raised a hand, cutting him off. “Athena’s waiting, Eddie.”

 

The meaning was clear: You’ve done enough.

 

Buck’s eyes flicked briefly to Eddie—something tight and unreadable swimming in his gaze—but he didn’t say anything. He just let Chim steer him toward the door. And as the cool night air hit his skin, Buck finally let the weight of it all settle in his chest like an anchor.

 

Leave it to Tommy to turn such a beautiful night into something disastrous that warranted a trip to the hospital. And for Eddie to the precinct…

 

*

 

The fluorescent lights above him hummed faintly—too bright, too sterile. Buck leaned back against the thin hospital bed pillow, a fresh line of stitches tugging uncomfortably above his right eyebrow. They were waiting on the scan’s results.

 

Doc had said the scans were just precautionary. That the elbow could’ve done more than just split the skin. Buck didn’t think it had. He felt… okay. Physically, anyway. Mostly.

 

He let out a slow breath and glanced over at Maddie, who sat perched on the chair beside his bed, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. Chim stood leaning against the wall, thumbing through his phone, eyes flicking to Buck every few seconds like he expected him to suddenly collapse.

 

Buck tried for a joke—something light to push the weight off their shoulders—but it never made it to his mouth.

 

His thoughts were too loud. Too fast.

 

Eddie’s probably already at the precinct. That image hit hard—Athena leading him past the front desk, maybe trying to shield him from the stares. Maybe trying to keep him calm.

 

But what if Tommy presses charges? What is this spirals beyond the hospital room, beyond a bad moment?

 

Buck’s stomach twisted. His hands still hadn’t entirely stopped shaking.

 

He rubbed one palm against the blanket, grounding himself, but the flood of what ifs just kept coming. What if Eddie had told Athena why he had attacked Tommy? What if he had told her everything about Buck’s relationship with Tommy?

 

He pressed the heel of his hand against his eye, careful of the stitches, and stared up at the ceiling. “He shouldn’t have to explain it,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “He shouldn’t be the one in trouble.”

 

Maddie’s hand moved to his arm, squeezing softly. Comforting, but not enough to quiet the storm inside him.

 

This wouldn’t have happened, had he not told Eddie. Technically this was Buck’s fault.

 

“What happened, Buck?” Maddie tried again for the umpteenth time since they had left Jerry’s. “Why did Eddie explode like that?”

 

Chim looked over at Buck, waiting for that answer too.

 

Buck just shook his head.

 

The door creaked open, saving him. Athena stepped in, radiating that calm, authoritative presence that always made people sit up straighter—even when she wasn’t saying a word. Her eyes swept the room, then landed on Buck.

 

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t go home alone tonight,” she said without preamble, her voice low and certain, like she’d already decided and nobody would be arguing.

 

Chim looked relieved. “Thanks, Athena. I’ll go grab the car.”

 

“We should go,” Maddie said, standing. She gave Buck’s knee a gentle squeeze before bending to kiss his forehead, careful not to jostle the fresh wound. “You’ll be okay?”

 

Buck nodded mutely, his chest tight.

“Are you sure?” she pressed, frowning like only she could. “I can—”

 

”I’m fine, Maddie,” Buck interrupted her. “Go home.”

 

Maddie hesitated for half a second, then let Chim guide her out the door, murmuring something about the nanny and Jee-Yun.

 

The second the door closed behind them, the room felt colder. Smaller.

 

Buck stared at the wall across from him, jaw clenched. Of course Athena was here. Of course. Eddie must’ve told her everything. Which meant she knew. Knew what had happened between him and Tommy. Knew what Buck had never told a single soul outside of Eddie.

 

His stomach twisted. His mouth went dry.

 

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t talk about it. Not even to Athena. But she didn’t press. Not right away.

 

Instead, she crossed the room slowly and took Maddie’s seat, folding her hands neatly in her lap. She studied him for a moment—measured and calm.

 

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently.

 

Buck blinked. That wasn’t what he expected.

 

“I’m…” He paused. Swallowed hard. “I’m fine.” It felt like he’d already said those words a hundred times tonight, like he was stuck on repeat.

 

Athena raised an eyebrow but let the lie hang in the air. She waited a beat, then leaned forward slightly. “Eddie didn’t tell me anything,” she said.

 

Buck’s head snapped toward her. His heart gave a sick little lurch in his chest. “What?”

 

She nodded once. “He didn’t say a word. Not at the bar. Not on the way to the precinct. Not even when I had to process him. He’s in holding right now.”

 

Buck stared at her, breath caught.

 

“I thought he and Tommy were friends,” Athena continued. “And then tonight… Eddie looked like he’d kill him. Like something had snapped. But I don’t know why. All I heard is that he stopped speaking to Tommy the second you guys broke up.” She tilted her head, voice softening. “And now I’m here. Not because Eddie gave me an explanation—but because you deserve the chance to tell me, if you want to. And because I wanted to check on you.” She pushed a few curls that had fallen over his forehead back.

 

The silence stretched between them, taut and breathless.

 

Buck looked down at his hands, at the faint smear of dried blood still under one nail. His stitches ached in rhythm with his pulse.

 

Athena didn’t push. She sat still, steady as stone, her presence calm and quiet beside him. The kind of quiet that invited truth, not demanded it.

 

Buck didn’t look at her. He stared at the edge of the blanket pulled across his lap, at the faint tremble in his hands that still hadn’t stopped—or had it just started again?

 

His mouth opened once, then closed again. The words swelled up in his chest—too many, too much. He could feel them building, pressing up under his ribs, behind his eyes, in his throat. They didn’t make sense. He didn’t know where to start. Didn’t want to start. Because saying it aloud meant naming it. And naming it meant it was real.

 

His jaw worked soundlessly. He tried to think of something—anything—he could say that wouldn’t destroy him on the spot.

 

Buck finally exhaled. “It just… wasn’t what I thought it’d be,” he said. “I mean—” He rubbed at his neck like he could erase the memory. “It was a long time ago. And not even... that bad. Not really.”

 

Athena didn’t move or say anything. Buck could just feel her eyes on him, while he still stared at the wall for a moment longer.

 

“It was my first time. With a guy.” He swallowed. “I guess I thought it would feel… different,” he said, staring down at the blanket bunched in his lap. “Everyone always talks about it like it’s this big thing, right? Life-changing or whatever. But I just...” His shoulders lifted slightly. “I wanted it to be over.”

 

A long beat passed. His throat clicked when he swallowed.

 

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Buck added quickly, almost like a reflex. “I mean—not like people think of when they say that. No yelling, no hitting. He was just... older. Confident. Said I’d like it if I relaxed.” His fingers twisted in the blanket. “I kept telling myself I’d get used to it. That it was me. That I was the problem.”

 

Athena’s voice came softly. “That’s what he made you believe.”

 

He flinched.

 

“I didn’t even really tell myself,” he said after a while. “I just… stopped remembering. Eventually. Until Eddie…”

 

Athena stood up and came to sit on the space of his bed, demanding him to look at her. She placed her hand next to his, not to touch him, just to let her hand rest on the bed, close enough that he could grab it if he wanted.

 

He didn’t. But he also didn’t move away.

 

“He told me I wasn’t relaxed enough,” Buck said, the words slipping out flat, brittle. Like dry leaves crushed underfoot. “Like it was my fault it hurt.”

 

Athena didn’t move, but something dangerous flashed in her eyes. Anger, maybe. Or grief. Fury restrained only by decades of training. Rage tempered into control. It vanished quickly, but not before Buck caught it.

 

He looked away.

 

Athena’s voice, when it came, was steady in that low and unshakable way. “You don’t have to tell me anything more, Buck.”

 

His head turned sharply, brows furrowing.

 

“The choice is yours. It always is. But I need you to hear me when I say this.” A beat. Her eyes didn’t waver. “Whatever it was—however you’ve tried to explain it to yourself—what happened to you wasn’t your fault. And it sure as hell wasn’t okay.”

 

Something inside Buck recoiled. Flinched. Like she’d touched a bruise he didn’t know was still sore. Was even there.

 

“You’re allowed to stand up for yourself. To get angry at people who hurt you. To get angry things don’t go your way. You’re allowed to take space up in this world, Buck.”

 

The words settled over him like a weighted blanket, too heavy and too warm all at once. His mouth opened, then closed. No sound came out. He could feel his throat close up. His fingers dug into the blanket on his lap.

 

“I didn’t want him to tell anyone,” he finally whispered, as if it were a confession. As if he'd done something wrong.

 

“And he didn’t,” Athena said quietly, but firmly. “You did. In your way. In your time.”

 

That, somehow, was what undid him. His eyes welled, stinging and hot, but he still shook his head stubbornly. Still clung to the script he’d rehearsed a thousand times.

 

“I know what you’re thinking. It wasn’t sexual abuse, Athena,” he said, voice rough, eyes burning. “It wasn’t.”

 

Her silence was deafening. She didn’t argue. Didn’t push. But the grief in her gaze—raw and aching—cut deeper than any correction would have.

 

Because she knew. Of course she knew. She’d seen it too many times not to.

 

Buck shook his head faintly, eyes glassy. “Still feels like I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Athena didn’t move. Didn’t look away.

 

“I didn’t even fight it.”

 

Silence.

 

“I just... let it happen. Over and over.” He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to force the heat out of his eyes. “And then I forgot. Or I made myself forget.”

 

Another beat. Buck’s voice dropped to a whisper. “What kind of person does that?”

 

Athena’s jaw tightened—barely—but it was there. “You don’t have to name it,” she said finally. “But don’t you dare carry the blame.”

 

Buck looked away. His chest rose and fell like it hurt to breathe. “I just want it to be over,” he said. “I don’t want people to know. I can’t…”

 

Athena nodded once, solemn and sure. “Then it’s over. No one else hears about this. This stays here. With me.”

 

His jaw clenched. His hand trembled. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t tell Bobby.”

 

“I won’t,” Athena promised. “I swear, Buckaroo.”

 

At that, something in him gave out.

 

He reached for her hand—finally—and she met him halfway, wrapping her fingers around his like she was anchoring him to the earth. And then she leaned in, arms circling him, drawing him close.

 

His head fell to her shoulder, then her chest, and when she pressed a kiss to his hair—gentle, maternal—Buck didn’t even realize the tears had started until they soaked the front of her shirt.

 

She held him like a mother would hold a child who’d been hurt too long, too silently. And for once, Buck didn’t try to explain it away. Didn’t pretend to be fine. Didn’t fill the quiet with words.

 

He just let himself be held.

Chapter 28

Notes:

honestly no idea how IA works but oh well... :D

Eddie sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, fists tight enough that his nails bit into his palms. The holding cell smelled like sweat and bleach. The kind of sterile, recycled air that sat heavy in the chest. He hadn’t said much. Hadn’t looked at anyone since Athena had put him in holding—an apology visible in her eyes.

 

He barely looked up now, even when an officer unlocked the door and motioned at him. "You're being released pending further investigation," the guy said. "Your lawyer’s here."

 

Eddie blinked. Lawyer?

 

And then—heels clicking, black slacks, sharp blazer over a ribbed tank top like she hadn’t been dancing at Jerry’s a few hours ago—Adriana strode in, all five-foot-two of legal fury packed into one deceptively petite frame.

 

“Hola, Eddie,” she smiled, her eyes were spitting fire, arms crossed as she stared him down. “Let’s go.”

 

He didn’t move. Because it suddenly dawned upon him that it hadn’t just been his boss and colleagues who had seen him snap. His tía and sisters had been there too.

 

Fuck.

 

Not telling Athena was one thing. His sisters…

 

But no. No, it wasn’t his place to tell Buck’s secret.

 

"¡De pie!" Adriana snapped, her Spanish accent razor-sharp with fury. "Ahora."

 

He stood slowly, not meeting her eyes. They didn’t speak until they were outside. Not in the hall. Not at the precinct exit. Not even in the elevator down to the garage. But the second the doors slid shut and no one else was around, Adriana spun on him.

 

“¿Qué carajo te pasó?” she demanded. "What the hell happened?"

 

Eddie bristled. “It’s none of your business.”

 

Adriana laughed—short, bitter. “Ta puta madre, it is my business if I’m gonna have to break my back keeping them from filing this under aggravated assault with priors. You’re not some bar brawler, Edmundo. You put a guy in the hospital.”

 

He said nothing.

 

She stared at him, waiting. When he didn’t speak, she took a step closer, her voice low but deadly serious.

 

"You know better than this. You know what this looks like. One more hit, and they would’ve charged you with attempted manslaughter, Eddie. They still might.”

 

Still, he said nothing.

 

Adriana exhaled, pacing. “You’re lucky he didn’t press charges yet. He’s still doped up.”

 

Eddie didn’t react. He didn’t flinch. But his jaw had gone rigid.

 

“Do you even know the guy’s name?” she asked, her voice cooling into something dangerous.

 

He nodded. Once. Sharp. “Tommy.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “Okay,” she said, pacing again. “So we’ve got a name. Want to tell me what he didthat made you crack his ribs and dislocate his jaw in the middle of a restaurant?”

 

Eddie’s head dropped slightly, his fists clenched again.

 

She watched him, her dark eyes scanning for anything. Anything at all.

 

“Did he say something about Christopher?” she asked, softer now.

 

Eddie’s lip curled in disgust. “No.”

 

“Then what?” she snapped. “Eddie, I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me!”

 

His voice finally came out, low and dangerous. “He’s Buck’s ex.”

 

Adriana froze. Then blinked. She tilted her head, assessing him like a bomb she hadn’t realized was already halfway through its countdown.

 

“…And?” she asked cautiously.

 

Eddie didn’t respond. But something shifted in his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Buck had told him. About how long he had been walking around with that. About how long he had been blaming himself, not seeing it for what it was.

 

He actually wanted to kill Tommy. His own life be damned.

 

Adriana took a breath. “Okay. Just—just tell me this.” She stepped closer, voice gentler now, her hand gesturing like she was coaxing the truth out from behind steel bars. “Did he really deserve it?”

 

Eddie scoffed. “He deserved a hell of a lot more than that.”

 

Adriana looked at him for a long, quiet moment. Her gaze didn’t soften, but her posture did. Just barely. “Okay,” she said, nodding once. “Then that’s what we start with.”

 

He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” she said, turning back toward the car, “you’re still an idiot. But you’re my brother. And I’m going to make sure that asshole’s history doesn’t erase whatever the hell he did to make you snap like that. You’re notgoing to jail.”

 

Eddie followed her silently, the ache in his chest pulsing hot. Once in the car, he turned to her. “Where is Chris? And Sophia and Tía?”

 

Adriana started the engine with a clipped motion, eyes fixed forward. “Home. Sophia took Tía Pepa back to the house. They’re with Chris. He doesn’t know anything about the fight or… this.”

 

Her voice thinned at the end. She didn’t say “jail,” but it hung between them anyway.

 

Eddie nodded once, the knot in his stomach twisting tighter. Shame curled low in his gut, acidic and cold. “Good.”

 

He reached for his phone, which had been powered off during holding. As it lit up, the screen flooded with notifications—missed calls from Sophia, from Adriana herself, and a string of messages from Chim, Hen, Bobby.

 

He didn’t read them. Just looked for Buck’s name between them. There were none.

 

“Take me to the hospital,” he said, his voice low and unwavering.

 

Adriana’s brow furrowed. “Let’s just go h—”

 

“I want to go to the hospital,” he interrupted. “If he’s still there, I need to see him.”

 

She didn’t start driving. “Eddie…”

 

He finally looked at her, eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched. “Please.”

 

Something in his voice—raw and unraveling—made her sigh, deeply. “Fine. But I swear to God, hermano, if you get thrown in a holding cell again tonight, I’m leaving your ass there and telling mamá you joined a gang.”

 

Despite everything, a corner of his mouth twitched.

 

“He’s smiling,” she mumbled to herself, driving off. “While I had to walk into a precinct and convince them he’s not a violent threat.”

 

“I’m not,” Eddie said.

 

She gave him a side-eye sharper than a scalpel. “Then start acting like it. Because this? This was reckless. You’re lucky I got you out with just a signature and a file full of favors I now owe.”

 

He looked out the window, jaw grinding. “He touched Buck.”

 

The car was silent for a beat too long.

 

Adriana’s brows drew together. “What?”

 

Eddie swallowed, fingers drumming restlessly against his thigh. “Tommy. He walked into that bar and acted like Buck was his buddy. Like nothing ever happened.”

 

Adriana’s eyes flicked over to him again, slower this time. “What did happen?”

 

He didn’t answer.

 

She exhaled hard through her nose, fixing her eyes back on the road. “You’re really gonna make me piece this together like a damn crossword puzzle?”

 

More silence.

 

*

 

The fluorescent lights of the hospital stung Eddie’s eyes as he walked in, following Adriana past the nurse’s station. His heart punched against his ribs, each beat growing heavier the closer they got to Buck’s room. The sight of Buck sitting upright on the bed, stitches above his right eyebrow and a quiet conversation happening between him and Athena, made Eddie’s breath catch in his throat.

 

He didn’t realize he’d stopped walking until Adriana nudged him forward, muttering under her breath, “Go. I’ll be out here.”

 

Athena stood as they approached, giving Buck’s knee a gentle pat before turning to Eddie. Her gaze flicked over him like a scanner—professional, precise—but there was warmth in it too. Did she know? Had Buck told her?

 

“He’s okay,” she said softly, then added with a knowing look toward Adriana, “Let’s give them a minute.”

 

Adriana hesitated just long enough to shoot Eddie a quick look—a silent warning not to screw this up—then followed Athena out into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind them.

 

Eddie stepped further into the room.

 

Buck looked up. His eyes were tired, but clear, and the hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Hey.”

 

Eddie’s throat closed around the word hi. He looked at Buck—at the stitches, the bruising beginning to shadow around it—and it hit him all over again. He had done that. Not Tommy. Him.

 

Buck frowned gently, sensing the shift. “Eddie?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, voice hoarse. He took another step closer. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

 

Buck tilted his head slightly, confused. “What for?”

 

Eddie gestured toward the stitches, the whole sterile room. “For that. For… hurting you.”

 

Buck blinked, then actually laughed—softly, like the tension of tonight had cracked something loose. “Eddie, I got worse knocking into the fridge door last winter.”

 

“I swear to God, Buck—I didn’t even realize I hit you until I saw the blood.”

 

“I know,” Buck replied, still smiling. “Chim and Maddie practically dragged me here. I’m fine.”

 

But Eddie didn’t smile. He dropped his gaze, running a hand over his face. “You were bleeding because of me.”

 

“You were protecting me,” Buck countered, more serious now. “It was a fucking accident.”

 

Eddie’s jaw clenched. “That doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you.”

 

Buck sat forward, wincing slightly as the movement tugged his stitches. “You want to talk about hurting? Eddie, the only time you hurt me is when you shut me out.”

 

That made Eddie’s gaze snap up.

 

Buck held his eyes. “But not this. Not tonight. You were defending me—even if I didn’t want you to. Even if I was… I don’t know. Shell-shocked. Telling you just changed everything…”

 

Eddie moved closer, sitting down in the chair Athena had just vacated, and finally let out a shaky breath. He decided to change the subject. “Adriana got me out of holding.”

 

Buck’s brows rose. “She did? She a wizard or something?”

 

Eddie managed a short breath of a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “More like a hurricane with a law degree. Showed up in full lawyer mode and scared the shit out of the detectives.”

 

Buck’s lips twitched. He tilted his head a little. “How bad was it?”

 

“Fine. Not my first time,” Eddie replied, elbows resting on his knees, fingers woven together so tightly his knuckles went white. “How about your scans?”

 

“Still waiting,” Buck huffed. He pried one of Eddie’s hand loose and intertwined their fingers. “Besides, the worst thing that happened to me tonight was getting stuck in an ER for hours with Chim and Maddie arguing over vending machine options.”

 

Eddie snorted. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. You should’ve seen Maddie nearly punch Chim over the last Twix.” Buck shook his head, amused. “Honestly, I think she’s pregnant again.”

 

Eddie breathed out hard, a laugh breaking through the haze of guilt. “That’d be awesome. A sibling for Jee-Yun.” He reached up, thumb brushing lightly against the stitches above Buck’s brow, barely grazing the tender skin. His voice softened. “I really am sorry.”

 

“I know,” Buck said, leaning into the touch like it grounded him. “But you’re here now. That’s what matters.”

 

Eddie leaned in and kissed him, gentle and reverent. “I love you.”

 

Buck smiled, eyes bright despite the bruise blooming nearby. “I love you too.”

 

Eddie pulled back slightly, watching him. “So… do you want kids?”

 

Buck blinked, then huffed a laugh—wincing a little when the stitches tugged. “What? You want me to get you pregnant?”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I’m being serious.”

 

Buck raised a brow. “We’ve got Chris.”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, “and Maddie and Chim have Jee. Hen and Karen had Denny first. Athena had May. Siblings exist, you know.”

 

Buck gave him a look, halfway between skeptical and amused, then murmured, “I’ve always wanted a baby.” His eyes dropped, his voice going softer. “A girl. A fat, cute little baby.”

 

Eddie’s heart stuttered. Just stuttered and soared. Because Buck wasn’t trying to be charming—wasn’t even thinking about how that would land. He meant it.

 

“You are totally girl-dad coded,” Eddie said, a little breathless.

 

Buck squinted. “Cringe. Who’s teaching you Gen Z slang?”

 

“We’re literally the same age,” Eddie deadpanned. “Anyway. We could adopt.”

 

Buck’s eyebrows knit slightly. “Wait, what?”

 

Eddie shrugged. “Adoption. Or surrogacy. Or fostering, if we wanted to. There’s options.”

 

Buck just stared at him, that open, wide-eyed look of his settling into something deeper—something quietly stunned.

 

Eddie laced their fingers together and gave his hand a squeeze. “This... us... it’s forever, you know.”

 

Buck didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Eddie, slow and sure. It was the kind of kiss that spoke every word they hadn’t said, every promise they were too wrecked to voice out loud, every scar laid bare, every "I’ve got you" they’d whispered with their hands when words failed.

 

And Eddie kissed him back.

 

For a long moment, the rest of the world disappeared. Just the sterile scent of antiseptic and the muted beeping of the heart monitor, their breaths tangled in the quiet. When they finally parted, Buck rested his forehead against Eddie’s, lashes brushing his cheeks.

 

“Why am I in love with a criminal?” he murmured, voice thick with teasing and something deeper underneath.

 

Eddie huffed a laugh, shaking his head like the world hadn’t just tilted on its axis. But before he could answer, his gaze flicked toward the window—and his smile slipped.

 

Bobby.

 

He was walking down the hall, all steady steps and unreadable expression. He paused beside Athena and Adriana, leaned in to kiss Athena’s cheek and exchanged a few quiet words with them. Whatever they said, it didn’t make him look any less grim.

 

Then he knocked—twice, sharp—and pushed the door open. He stepped in, closed the door behind him, and came to a stop at the foot of Buck’s bed. His hands curled around the railing. The room shifted immediately. Bobby didn’t even have to say anything to command it.

 

Then he knocked—brief and sharp—before pushing open the door and stepping inside, closing it softly behind him. He came to a stop at the foot of Buck’s bed, hands on the railing.

 

“How are you, kid?” Bobby asked, voice gentler than expected.

 

Buck straightened, smile a little too bright. “Hey, Cap. I’m good. Really. You didn’t have to come.”

 

“Those stitches say otherwise.” Bobby’s eyes skimmed the gash above Buck’s brow, the dark bruising. “Did the scans come back yet?”

 

Buck groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall with a dramatic sigh. “No. Still waiting. Athena’s patience is running out. She’s going to throttle someone if they don’t hurry up—I’m honestly kind of rooting for her.”

 

The joke fell to deaf ears. Bobby didn’t even crack a smile.

 

Eddie stood when Bobby locked his eyes on him, out of respect, out of instinct. His spine locked straight, jaw tight. He could feel the familiar weight of authority settle over the room like a stormcloud—and Bobby was the thunder rolling in behind it.

 

“You assaulted a fellow firefighter,” Bobby said, wasting no time. His tone was sharp, the hurt buried just under the anger. “In public. With civilians around.”

 

Eddie didn’t speak. Didn’t flinch. Just met Bobby’s eyes and took it.

 

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bobby continued, stepping closer. “This isn't just a bad look, Eddie. This is potentially career-ending. You were arrested.”

 

Buck shifted, shoulders tensing. “Bobby—”

 

“Don’t intervene,” Bobby warned without even looking at him.

 

Still, Eddie stayed silent, jaw clamped tight.

 

Buck glanced between them, suddenly rigid in bed, tension crawling up his neck.

 

“Look,” Bobby pushed, “I don’t know what happened between you and Tommy, but unless you give me something, my hands are tied. The Department’s all over this. IA is sniffing around, even though Tommy isn’t pressing charges.”

 

Buck’s brows shot up. “Wait—he’s not?”

 

“Of course he’s not,” Eddie muttered darkly. “He knows what comes out if he does.”

 

That was enough to make Bobby pause.

 

“I get it,” Eddie muttered, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

 

“No,” Bobby snapped, and that hurt—because Bobby rarely snapped at them. “I don’t think you do. I put my name on the line for you every damn time something goes sideways. I’ve gone to bat for you because I believe in you. And I’ve never once regretted it. Until now. What happened?”

 

Eddie swallowed, a muscle twitching in his cheek. “I can’t tell you.”

 

Bobby shook his head once. “Then I have no choice. You’re on administrative leave until the investigation’s done. Your Union Rep will reach out. If there’s anything I can do to help… you know where I am.”

 

He turned to leave, but Buck’s voice broke the silence.

 

“Wait—Bobby, just—” Buck started, slowly trying to stand up, but he seemed to be dizzy, and Eddie pushed him back. His eyes flickered desperately between Eddie and Bobby. “Can I just say something? It wasn’t what it looked like. Eddie didn’t just snap—”

 

Eddie’s hand was on his shoulder before he could finish. “Buck.” The way he said it—low, steady—was final. “Don’t.”

 

“I just—he deserves to know—”

 

“I’m not gonna let you answer for what I did,” Eddie said, firm. “This is mine. I’ll take it.”

 

Buck stared at him, torn between frustration and heartbreak. The look tugged at Eddie’s heart. “You don’t have to protect him.”

 

“I’m not.” Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’m protecting you.”

 

Bobby lingered at the door, watching them—eyes narrowing, but he said nothing more. Then he stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click that still sounded like a gavel dropping.

 

The room was quiet again, but it didn’t feel peaceful.

 

It felt like the storm hadn’t passed. It had just started.

 

*

 

The room was colder than it needed to be, lit by a ceiling fixture that buzzed faintly above, it was the only sound in the windowless conference room deep within LAFD headquarters.

 

Eddie sat stiffly in a metal chair, jaw clenched, hands clasped tightly in his lap. Across the table sat Investigator Larkin, a clean-cut man in his late forties with a face like granite and a notebook, a pen, and a file folder laid neatly in front of him. Next to Eddie sat his union rep, Kara Granger, all pressed blazer, slicked back bun, and sharp confidence, flipping casually through a legal pad.

 

In the center of the table, a small recorder blinked red.

 

Larkin clicked his pen and spoke with a calm, rehearsed voice. He’d probably done this a hundred times already.

 

“For the record, this is Investigator Larkin. Present are Edmundo Diaz, badge number 7649, firefighter assigned to Station 118. This is a formal investigative interview regarding the incident on the night of August 23^rd involving off-duty firefighter Thomas Kinard at Jerry’s Bar. Also present is Union Representative Kara Granger.”

 

Eddie stared ahead, unmoving. His hands were clenched into fists underneath the table, because he knew how quick this could go bad. Kara had already told him she would cut in whenever she could and she had prepared him to the best of her ability. She had told him that in other cities this would’ve blown over, but the LAPD attached too much value to their image. However, this, today, was the real deal. The interviews were going to start after his, and he hated that everyone he cared about would be roped into this stupid investigation.

 

“Mr. Diaz,” Larkin continued, “are you aware this interview is being recorded?”

 

“Yes,” Eddie replied quietly.

 

“Mr. Diaz is here voluntarily,” Kara said, her tone crisp, “but reserves the right not to answer any question that could lead to self-incrimination.”

 

“Noted.”

 

Larkin opened the folder with slow, deliberate movements. The silence between each flip of the page made Eddie want to crawl out of his skin.

 

“Now, according to multiple witness statements,” Larkin said, “you physically assaulted another off-duty firefighter, Thomas Kinard, at approximately 10:24 PM. Do you dispute that?”

 

Eddie shook his head. “No.”

 

“Then tell me, in your own words, what happened at Jerry’s Bar.”

 

Eddie’s jaw worked. He saw it again—Tommy’s hand on Buck’s neck, too casual, too familiar, and far too unwelcome. His fists had reacted before his brain had. No. Because of his brain. Because of what Buck had told him in quiet, broken pieces.

 

“He touched someone he shouldn’t have,” Eddie said finally.

 

Larkin tilted his head, pen hovering above his notes. “Touched them how, exactly?”

 

“Inappropriately.”

 

“Who?”

 

Eddie stayed silent.

 

“Mr. Diaz,” Larkin pressed, “if someone else was harmed, you have a duty to report—”

 

“Mr. Diaz isn’t identifying third parties at this time,” Kara cut in smoothly. “Especially not those unrelated to this investigation.”

 

Larkin’s eyes flicked from her back to Eddie. But he didn’t argue. He nodded once, almost expectedly.

 

“Let me reframe,” he said. “Did Mr. Kinard physically threaten you?”

 

Eddie slowly exhaled through his nose. “No.”

 

“Did he threaten anyone else?”

 

“Somewhat.”

 

“Were you under the influence of alcohol?”

 

“No.”

 

“He did have alcohol in his system according to the police rapport, however,” Kara added.

 

Eddie didn’t explain that even though he was a lightweight, as Buck liked to remind him, he hadn’t been beating Tommy because of it. He’d do it again with 0% alcohol in his system.

 

Larkin penned something down and checked his folder for the rapport. Then, he focused on Eddie again.

 

“Did Mr. Kinard provoke you?”

 

“Not verbally.” Just with his existence.

 

“But physically?”

 

Eddie hesitated. “No.”

 

Larkin leaned in. “And yet you felt threatened enough to break his nose? Crack his ribs?” Larkin’s voice remained measured, but Eddie could feel the shift in tone—probing, looking for a crack.

 

It made Eddie’s stomach churn. He could still feel the phantom sensation of his fist colliding with Tommy’s startled face. He hadn’t stopped. Not after the first hit. Not after the second. Not even when Bobby and Michael had hauled him off. The fight had left him immediately as he saw blood trickling down Buck’s face, though, as he looked utterly shocked.

 

He exhaled slowly, not replying to the rhetorical questions.

 

Larkin leaned forward slightly. “You’re a firefighter, Mr. Diaz. You were an Army Medic. You’ve undergone training to stay calm in high-stress situations. You know how much force to use and when to use it. Yet you broke another firefighter’s nose, fractured two ribs, and put him in the hospital with a concussion. That’s not a shove. That’s not restraint. That’s assault.”

 

Silence stretched between them.

 

“Because of something Kinard did? Something he said?”

 

Eddie looked down at his hands. There were a few scratched across his knuckles, split skin from hitting Tommy’s bones.

 

“I can’t answer that.”

 

“Won’t, or can’t?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

Kara shifted beside him, placing a calming hand near his elbow, a silent warning not to escalate.

 

“Were you protecting someone?” Larkin pressed.

 

“We already covered that,” Eddie replied, voice tight.

 

“And I’ll keep asking until you give me a straight answer,” Larkin said. “Because right now, all I see is an off-duty firefighter committing a violent assault in a bar full of first responders and other civilians without cause.”

 

Kara cut in again. “Mr. Diaz has exercised his right to remain silent on that matter.”

 

Larkin sighed, shutting his notebook with a soft thud. He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.

 

“Here’s what I know: no prior altercations, no official reports of harassment, no visible provocation. But you walked across a crowded bar, in front of half the first responders in the city, and nearly beat a man unconscious. Off-duty or not, that reflects on this department. On your station. On us.”

 

There it was. Their biggest concern: their image.

 

“Kinard isn’t pressing charges—yet. But that doesn’t mean this goes away. Internal Affairs doesn’t need a criminal complaint to act. And right now, unless there’s an explanation, you’re looking at serious misconduct.”

 

Larkin let a silence fall for a moment, like a judge before they snap their hammer with their official decree.

 

“Firefighter Diaz, effective immediately, you are officially placed on administrative leave pending the outcome of this investigation. You are not to contact Mr. Kinard or any other involved parties. You will surrender all department-issued equipment before leaving this building.”

 

Eddie nodded.

 

“We will be reviewing surveillance footage, witness testimonies, and your department history. You’ll be contacted for follow-up once we complete initial reviews,” he added, voice firm. “If there’s something you’re not saying, I suggest you find a way to say it. Because I can’t protect your job without context. And right now, you’re giving me nothing.”

 

Eddie nodded again. “Understood.”

 

As he stood to leave, the room still humming behind him, Eddie knew the silence he was keeping was worth it. This was Buck’s pain. And that made it sacred. Even if it cost him everything.

 

*

 

The worst part hadn’t been the IA interview. It was the silence that followed.

 

Eddie sat on his couch, untouched coffee going cold on the table in front of him, while the city moved on outside his window. He hadn’t slept—not really. Just drifted in and out of half-dreams and the echo of Larkin’s voice dissecting every second of the punches he’d thrown.

 

His phone buzzed.

 

Kara Granger:  Update: You’re officially restricted from all department communications. No contact with Kinard, any 118 personnel (except Captain Nash), or active firefighters until further notice. IA is reviewing witness statements and Jerry’s security footage. Sit tight.

 

He read it three times.

 

No contact with the 118 meant no contact with Buck.

 

A sour, slow dread settled in his gut. Bobby had probably been notified immediately. The others too; Hen, Chim, Ravi. And Buck—God, Buck must be spinning, wondering if he’d just detonated the team from the inside out. Eddie itched to reach out, to send a quick ‘I’m fine’ or ‘Don’t you dare beat yourself up about any of this’ or even just a neutral ‘Don’t talk to anyone until Kara is present’—but Kara’s warning echoed through his mind. Anything he said could compromise not only his case, but Buck’s secret too.

 

Because if Larkin and his crew started connecting the dots between Tommy’s sudden handsiness, Buck’s confession, and Eddie’s rage… it wouldn’t be just his life under a microscope.

 

His phone buzzed again. This time it was Adriana, she had decided to stay in town as long as the investigation took.

 

Adriana: Coming over. We need to talk about your rights.

 

Adriana: And your mouth.

 

Adriana: Love you.

 

He didn’t even bother replying. She’d show up whether he liked it or not.

 

By the time she arrived, he’d managed to rinse off and change into fresh clothes, though the weight of the last 24 hours clung to him like smoke after a burn. However, he was determined to look fine to the outside world.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Adriana said as she stepped into the house, laptop bag slung over her shoulder. She didn’t bother with small talk. “But we share blood, so let’s get to work.”

 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Nice to see you, too.”

 

She dropped her bag on the dining table and opened her laptop. “I pulled the city incident log and IA’s standard procedures. You’re looking at, best case scenario, a month-long suspension with mandatory anger management and psych eval. Worst case, you’re terminated.” She started to tick off on her fingers, “Public venue. Fellow employee. Multiple witnesses.”

 

“I know,” Eddie muttered, scrubbing a hand down his face. Kara and he had been over this.

 

Adriana looked up. “Then why won’t you tell them what happened?”

 

“It’s not mine to tell.”

 

Her expression softened. “You’re protecting Buck.”

 

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

 

Adriana sighed, sitting across from him. “I get it. But you need to understand—if this goes too far, they could make an example out of you. You have no criminal record, no prior IA complaints, a commendable service record—but this kind of violence? They don’t care how good a guy you are. They care about liability.”

 

“I’m not asking you to fix it,” Eddie said quietly. “I just need to know what I can and can’t do.”

 

“Technically, the no-contact order isn’t criminal—it’s internal,” she said. “So you’re not legally barred from seeing anyone. But if IA finds out you contacted 118 personnel—especially Buck—they could claim you’re trying to influence testimony. And that would kill any goodwill you’ve got left.”

 

“So I just sit here? Wait for the department to decide if I get to keep my job?”

 

“You wait. You listen to your Union Rep. You keep your head down. And when they call you in again, you don’t go alone.”

 

Eddie sighed, just wishing for this to be over as soon as possible. He didn’t regret it. Not really. But he regretted the damage it left behind. The fact that Buck might now be pulled into something he had every right to keep buried. The fact that their team, his family, was probably being forced to choose sides, blindfolded.

 

And the fact that he couldn’t even text the one person he wanted to see most.

 

*

 

The TV was on, but Eddie couldn’t have said what he was watching.

 

Some crime show, maybe. Or reruns. He wasn’t sure. The volume was low enough that the dialogue blurred into the hum of the refrigerator, the tick of the wall clock. He sat slouched on the couch, one socked foot tucked beneath him, a beer sweating on the coffee table—still almost full. He hadn’t taken more than two sips.

 

10:03 p.m.

 

Chris was at Tía Peppa’s for the night, doing some last bit of summer bonding with her and Adriana before school started again. Eddie knew the truth: it was a buffer. A way to keep Chris out of range of his father’s trouble.

 

The house felt too quiet without him. Too clean. Too much like a stranger’s place.

 

The doorknob clicked.

 

Eddie’s spine stiffened, and he stood up to face the door. He hadn’t heard footsteps on the porch. He didn’t expect—

The door opened and a flash of blonde hair slid into view before familiar blue eyes found him.

 

“Buck—?” Eddie’s voice caught, a knot of disbelief and a sharp edge of fear.

 

Buck slipped inside and shut the door gently behind him. His eyes darted around, like the walls might have grown ears in the last two days.

 

“Hey.”

 

It wasn’t their hey. Not the warm, teasing hey, babe Eddie got after long shifts. Not the hey, I brought tacos when Eddie was too tired to cook. Nor the hey, I missed you that came with a kiss. It was strained and loaded, like the single syllable cost him something.

 

Eddie stood, heart pounding. “You can’t be here.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Buck, I’m serious—IA gave me a no-contact. If they find out, they’ll drag you into this. They could accuse me of—of trying to influence—”

 

“I don’t care.” Buck interrupted, quiet but firm. “I needed to see you.”

 

Eddie stared at him. At the worry carved deep into his brow, the restless set of his hands, the exhaustion shadowing his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.

 

Eddie’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re not safe if they find out you were here.”

 

“I don’t feel safe when I don’t know how you’re doing.”

 

That broke something in Eddie. Not loudly, not like glass—just a quiet crack, deep and slow. He looked away, jaw tight.

 

Buck stepped forward. “You didn’t answer my texts. I didn’t know if you were okay.”

 

“I couldn’t,” Eddie said, turning toward the couch again. “Wasn’t allowed to. I’m not supposed to talk to anyone from work.”

 

“I’m not here as someone from work.”

 

Eddie let out a humorless sound. “You think IA’s gonna see it that way?”

 

Buck ignored the question. He came closer, eyes sweeping over him, taking in the half-eaten dinner still on the counter, the untouched beer, the crumpled blanket on the couch.

 

“You don’t look okay.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

Eddie sank back onto the couch, the weight of Buck’s presence catching up to him. “I’m holding it together.”

 

“Barely.” Buck sat down beside him. “I want to tell them.”

 

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What?”

 

“I want to tell IA the truth. About what Tommy did. Why you reacted the way you did.”

 

“No.”

 

“Eddie—”

 

“No, Buck. We’ve been over this.”

 

“You’re on administrative leave. You could get fired. And you’re sitting here like you’ve already been cut loose.  This is my fault.”

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Eddie said quickly. “You never did. What happened—what he did to you—that doesn’t need to be dragged through an investigation file and dumped on some stranger’s desk. You don’t need to have strangers sifting through it, twisting it.”

 

“But if it protects you—”

 

“It won’t.” Eddie sighed deeply, looking straight into Buck’s eyes. “It’ll tear you apart again. You’ll have to answer every ugly question, relive every second. And IA’s not gonna treat it like it’s fragile. They’ll rip it open. That’s their job.”

 

Buck’s mouth opened, but no words came out.

 

Eddie leaned closer, hand on Buck’s arm. “I’ll take the hit.”

 

“You shouldn’t have to.”

 

“No one should. But it happened. And I can’t undo it. But I can keep it from becoming yours to carry again.”

 

Buck’s sigh trembled as his hand came up to cup Eddie’s face. Eddie leaned into the touch like it was the first warmth he’d felt in days, eyes closing for a beat. God, he’d missed him.

 

“Please, don’t do this,” Buck murmured, thumb brushing Eddie’s jaw. “Tell Kara. Let her tell IA. I’ll be fine.”

 

Eddie opened his eyes, searching Buck’s face—the sincerity, the desperation, the lie tucked beneath both. Buck had never been a good liar. And that was the problem.

 

So he didn’t answer. He just closed the space between them and kissed him. Slow, aching, like two days apart had been years. Buck’s fingers slid into his hair, holding on like he was afraid Eddie might vanish.

 

When they broke apart, Eddie’s forehead rested against his. “You shouldn’t have come.”

 

“I know,” Buck murmured, brushing his thumb across Eddie’s cheek. “But I couldn’t stay away.”

 

Eddie’s laugh was quiet, cracked. “You’re gonna get us both in trouble.”

 

“Worth it.” Buck’s lips ghosted over his again, just enough to promise more. “You’re always worth it.”

 

They stayed like that, breaths mingling, the rest of the world pushed out. For the first time in days, Eddie didn’t feel hollow.

 

But under it, the clock kept ticking.

Chapter 29

Notes:

so this was supposed to be a cute lil fic just a few chapters some bdsm spice, buck and eddie catching feelings, a couple realizations, and then wrap it up nice and clean

but my adhd brain was like lol what if we just made it more than 150k words and added 10 extra subplots, 3 emotional breakdowns, and a side quest for coffee and now here we are

this fic has eaten my free time, my sleep schedule, and possibly my sense of proportion

the next chapter is not the last bc i am simply not gonna speedrun the ending after all this time we’ve been through too much

we’re doing this right even if it means this fic might outlive me lol

Buck sat hunched over his untouched plate, picking at eggs that had gone cold. He hadn’t eaten much in days. Not consistently. Not since the night he watched Eddie walk out of the hospital room with his shoulders coiled tight, like he was carrying a secret too heavy for even him.

 

He was.

 

And Buck was the reason why.

 

The firehouse felt off without Eddie. Even though they were having a late breakfast and their shift had settled into its usual rhythm of routine calls and restless boredom. The table still held the weight of something heavier than dishes and coffee mugs. Hen, Chim, Ravi, and Cap sat around it, all in various stages of exhaustion and frustration.

 

“They’re dragging this out,” Chim muttered, stirring his coffee with a clink. “Two weeks and we still don’t have answers?”

 

“What answers are they even looking for?” Hen asked, her voice low but sharp. “It was public. Witnesses saw Eddie throw the first punch. Kinard’s not pressing charges. What more do they want?”

 

“Motive,” Bobby said, voice steady. “They want a reason. And right now, Eddie won’t give them one.”

 

Buck’s stomach twisted. He stared harder at his plate.

 

“Did he say anything to you?” Hen turned to Buck, not unkind, but clearly grasping for answers. “Anything at all?”

 

Ravi looked over at him, expectantly, like Buck held all the answers. It was Chim however who saved him.

 

“Eddie’s not even allowed to talk to us, so how would Buck know?” he said, huffing again.

 

Buck just shook his head at Hen, pressing his lips together in something akin to an apologetic smile. He ignored the way Bobby looked at him—because Bobby knew that Buck knew the reason. He had almost told him at the hospital after all.

 

“It doesn’t make sense,” Ravi said. “Eddie’s not impulsive like that. Even if Tommy said something—hell, even if he was drunk and stupid—it had to be more than that.”

 

“I know it was more,” Bobby said quietly.

 

All four of them looked at him.

 

“I spoke to Larkin again yesterday.”

 

Buck felt his spine straighten instinctively.

 

“I told him they’re looking at the wrong person. Eddie doesn’t just snap. And if he’s staying quiet, it’s because he’s protecting someone.”

 

Buck swallowed thickly. He hated this. Hated the feeling of pressure building like a storm. Hated not being able to tell his friends what had happened. To tell Bobby at least. But most of all he hated Eddie’s absence and how all of this was Buck’s fault—no matter how many times Eddie told him it wasn’t true.

 

Two weeks.

 

That’s how long it had been since the incident. How long it had been since Eddie got put on administrative leave. Since Buck started sneaking over after shifts, sometimes late into the night, sometimes when he knew Chris was asleep. He hadn’t been over for a few days thanks to work.

 

They never talked long. Mostly just sat together. Let their legs touch on the couch. Let silence sit between them where words failed.

 

Eddie didn’t ask for much. Didn’t complain. But Buck could see it, in the way his smile barely reached his eyes, in the way he looked away every time Buck touched the hand that had split Tommy’s lip.

 

Eddie would rather let his career burn than let Buck’s trauma become part of an official report.

 

But it was getting harder and harder to stay quiet.

 

He shifted in his seat, staring at his plate as if the scrambled eggs held divine wisdom. He didn’t know how many times he could lie without it breaking something permanent.

 

Ravi and Chim had had their interviews with IA already. Hen would have it this afternoon. And Buck was just waiting for Bobby to tell him when it was his turn.

 

After breakfast, the team broke apart—Hen heading to check inventory, Chim disappearing with her, and Ravi moved to the kitchen to fill the dishwasher—but Cap lingered. Buck tried to stand, but Bobby’s voice stopped him.

 

“They’ve scheduled your interview,” he said.

 

Buck froze. Then he sighed. Had he just jinxed himself again?

 

“Tomorrow morning,” Bobby added, quieter now. “Larkin’s expecting you at 9.00 a.m.”

 

Buck didn’t look up from the table. He just nodded.

 

“Buck…” Bobby started, voice careful. “If there’s something you know—anything—it’s time.”

 

Buck forced a smile, finally looking at him. They hadn’t really spoken these past few weeks. First, because Buck hadn’t been allowed back to work. He hadn’t even had a concussion and yet he had to skip a forty-eight-hour shift, before he was allowed back. And then… because Buck had been a coward and had avoided Cap like the plague.

 

“You’re not a good liar,” Bobby said, not unkindly. “Especially not when it comes to people you love.”

 

Buck didn’t respond. Just gathered his plate, dumped it in the sink, ignoring Ravi’s muttered comment, and left before he could be pressed further.

 

His shift flew by and hours later, before he knew it, he opened the door to Eddie’s house. Chris had left that morning on Kick Off Camp! Some kind of introductory camp with all the freshmen.

 

Eddie didn’t bother with a hello. One second Buck was stepping through the door, the next his back thudded against it, Eddie’s fist curled tight in his collar. His mouth was on Buck’s—hot, rough, like he’d been starving for it all day. Maybe all week.

 

Buck grinned against the kiss, tasting Eddie’s frustration, and kissed him back with just enough teasing to make him push harder.

 

“I could get used to this kind of welcome,” Buck murmured when Eddie broke for air, brushing his lips in a quick, smug peck.

 

Eddie’s answering growl was low and sharp, vibrating right into Buck’s chest. “Shut up and let me make us both feel good,” he rasped, already dragging Buck toward the couch. Clothes were left in a trail from the front door to the couch.

 

Buck barely had time to laugh before Eddie’s mouth claimed his again, the kiss all teeth and tongue. He shoved Buck down onto the cushions, following him without hesitation, braced on his knees. Buck let himself be manhandled for once, surrendering to the sheer force of Eddie’s need.

 

Fingers dug into Buck’s hair, guiding, anchoring. Eddie’s teeth grazed his jaw, then his throat, then lower still, licking away the sting he’d just left. Buck’s pulse jumped under every bite, every swipe of Eddie’s tongue.

 

“Been climbing the walls all week,” Eddie muttered against his skin, voice hoarse. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

 

Buck’s hands slid up Eddie’s back, feeling every tense muscle and warm inch of skin. “Guess administrative leave’s really that bad, huh?” he breathed.

 

Eddie’s laugh was short, dark, and right in Buck’s ear before he kissed him again, deeper this time, like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon. His weight pinned Buck to the couch, thighs straddling him like he wasn’t going anywhere—and Buck didn’t want to. Eddie kissed him like he had something to prove, all heat and teeth, hands braced on Buck’s shoulders to hold him in place.

 

Buck pulled Eddie closer, but Eddie just ground down hard, their cocks brushing together. They both gasped.

 

“You gonna let me work this out of my system,” Eddie panted, “or are you gonna keep running your mouth?”

 

Buck smirked, eyes hooded. “Guess I’ll just sit back and let you tire yourself out.” He draped his arms along the back of the couch, his legs spread open.

 

That earned him a sharper grind, Eddie’s nails digging into his shoulders. “Not gonna get tired,” Eddie muttered, leaning in to nip at Buck’s earlobe. “Not tonight.”

 

Buck’s hands gripped Eddie’s hips, guiding him into a slower, filthier roll, feeling every press and shift. Eddie’s eyes fluttered, but he didn’t give up control—he stayed in the driver’s seat, setting the pace, chasing what he wanted.

 

Eddie lifted himself a little of Buck, clearly wanting to sit down on his dick.

 

“Easy, Eddie,” Buck hummed, “you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

 

Eddie just made a sound in the back of his throat, his arm disappearing behind him. Something fell to the ground with a thud.

 

“Made myself ready for you,” he replied, lowering himself down on Buck’s cock with too much slickness.

 

Buck inhaled sharply, and Eddie’s eyes rolled back into his head. Eddie’s nails pressed into Buck’s shoulders, as he bottomed out. He groaned into Buck’s neck.

 

“Oh, fuck—Buck.”

 

“You’ve been fingering yourself, Eds?” Buck hummed, teasingly.

 

“Didn’t come,” Eddie replied, still groaning. “Fuck, this feels good.”

 

Buck’s fingers caressed Eddie’s hips, letting him take his time. He was still sitting, filled to the brim, face hidden in Buck’s neck.

 

“Just wanna stay here forever,” Eddie murmured. “Brain empty, close to you.”

 

Buck’s chest rose and fell under him, every breath syncing with Eddie’s, his hands just a warm, steady presence on Eddie’s hips. “You know I’m not gonna complain if you wanna take your time,” Buck murmured, his voice low and coaxing.

 

Eddie hummed against his skin, the sound vibrating in Buck’s throat. “I’m not taking my time for you,” he muttered, but his thighs flexed as he shifted just slightly, enough for both of them to feel it. “I’m taking my time for me.”

 

“That’s even hotter,” Buck said, his grin audible in his voice.

 

Eddie smirked, pulling back enough to meet his eyes. “You think so?” His tone was mocking, but the challenge in his gaze burned. Then he lifted himself just an inch, slow enough that the drag made Buck’s head tip back, before dropping down again with deliberate weight.

 

“Jesus, Eddie—”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathed, the corner of his mouth curling, “say my name like that again.”

 

He set a rhythm—slow, deep, unapologetically in control—his palms planted on Buck’s shoulders to keep him right where he wanted him. Every time Buck tried to thrust up, Eddie would shift his weight, forcing him to take the pace he gave.

 

Buck’s eyes were fixed on him, heavy-lidded, drinking him in. “God, look at you,” he rasped, his voice going rougher with every slow grind Eddie gave him. “Riding me like you own me.”

 

Eddie’s smirk deepened. “That’s because I do.”

 

“Yeah, you do,” Buck agreed without hesitation, his hands sliding up Eddie’s sides to rest just under his ribs, holding him like he was something precious and filthy all at once. “You’ve got me, Eds. Every fucking inch.”

 

Eddie’s breath caught for half a second, but he masked it by leaning forward, his palms braced harder against Buck’s shoulders as he sank down again. “Don’t think you can sweet-talk your way into control.”

 

Buck grinned up at him, that glint in his eyes. “Not trying to take control. Just telling you how good you feel. How perfect your ass is wrapped around me. How I’d let you keep me here all night if you wanted.”

 

Eddie’s jaw tightened, his rhythm faltering for just a moment before he found it again—slow, deep, every drop of movement calculated to keep Buck exactly where he wanted him.

 

“Fuck,” Buck groaned, tilting his head back against the cushions again. “I can feel you squeezing me every time you move. You’re gonna make me lose it, Eds.”

 

“That’s the plan,” Eddie muttered, leaning in until their mouths were almost touching, his breath hot against Buck’s lips.

 

Buck’s hands gripped tighter at his hips, thumbs pressing into the slick heat of his skin. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous when you’re on top of me like this. So fucking hot knowing you’ve been thinking about me—touching yourself—getting ready just so you could sit down on my cock the second I walked through your door.”

 

Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed, a low sound escaping his throat. “Keep talking like that and I might actually let you make me come.”

 

Buck’s laugh was dark, almost a growl. “Oh, I’m gonna make you come, Eds. And I’m gonna feel every second of it.” He shifted under Eddie, leaning forward enough that his mouth brushed Eddie’s chest. “You know what I love most about you on top?” he murmured, his voice low and sinfully confident.

 

Eddie arched a brow, still rolling his hips in that deep, punishing rhythm. “Enlighten me.”

 

“You’re right here,” Buck said, his hands sliding up Eddie’s sides until his thumbs brushed the peaks of his chest. “Where I can watch every… single… reaction…” His mouth dipped, tongue flicking over Eddie’s left nipple, slow at first before he sucked it into his mouth.

 

Eddie’s gasp was sharp, his hips faltering just for a heartbeat.

 

“Yeah, that’s it,” Buck murmured against him, moving to the other side and giving it the same treatment, teeth grazing just enough to make Eddie shudder. “You get so sensitive here. Bet I could make you come just from this.”

 

“Fuck you,” Eddie breathed, but his voice cracked, his rhythm picking up unconsciously.

 

Buck grinned against his skin. “Already are, baby.” He sucked harder, swirling his tongue, feeling Eddie’s thighs tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good riding me. So tight, so warm. Taking me so deep.”

 

Eddie’s head tipped back, his eyes fluttering shut as Buck’s mouth worked him and his cock stayed buried to the hilt. His pace got faster, more erratic, the control he’d held onto starting to slip.

 

“That’s it, Eds,” Buck coaxed, one hand gripping his hip, the other sliding up to tweak his nipple between his fingers while his mouth stayed latched to the other. “Come on. Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

 

Eddie let out a strangled groan, his body bowing forward as the tension coiled tight and snapped all at once. His climax hit hard, pulsing around Buck, every nerve alight, his nails digging into Buck’s shoulders as he moaned into his ear.

 

Buck held him through it, sucking him gently through the aftershocks, hips rolling up into him to draw it out until Eddie collapsed against his chest, boneless and trembling.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie panted, still catching his breath. “Brain’s… officially empty.”

 

Buck pressed a kiss to his temple, still deep inside him. “Told you I’d make you lose it.”

 

Eddie just hummed, his forehead resting against Buck’s chest as their breathing slowed from before. Buck’s fingers were in his hair, combing idly through the damp strands, like they had all the time in the world.

 

“You didn’t…” Eddie murmured, voice still a little wrecked.

 

Buck smiled faintly, brushing his thumb over the curve of Eddie’s ear. “Not worried about it.”

 

He needed to talk to Eddie anyways. That was why he had come over. However, this had been more than welcome.

 

Eddie lifted his head just enough to meet his eyes, gaze warm and stubborn all at once, he lifted himself off Buck’s cock. “I am.” He kissed him—slow, lazy, tasting like he wanted to memorize him all over again—before sliding down Buck’s body.

 

Buck huffed out a laugh. “Eds—”

 

“Shh,” Eddie breathed, settling on his knees on the floor between Buck’s spread thighs. “Just… let me.” His hands rested on Buck’s hips, thumbs stroking lazy circles into skin.

 

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t even really about technique. Eddie leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Buck’s thigh, then another, and another, working his way inward like he couldn’t bear to skip a single inch. Buck let his head tip back against the couch, the warmth of Eddie’s mouth sending little sparks of pleasure up his spine.

 

When Eddie finally wrapped his fingers around him, his touch was warm and careful, the kind of steady hold that made Buck’s breath stutter before anything else even happened. Eddie’s thumb smoothed over the head, spreading the slick already there, and Buck swore under his breath.

 

Eddie bent down, brushing his mouth over him like he was kissing him hello. Slow, lingering pecks to the flushed tip, the side, then back again, his lips warm and damp. Each kiss made Buck’s thighs twitch involuntarily, heat curling low in his stomach.

 

Then Eddie’s mouth opened, lips sealing around him with deliberate slowness, inch by inch, until Buck could feel the wet heat of him everywhere. The slide was messy from the start, spit catching at the corners of Eddie’s mouth, and God—he didn’t seem to care, just sucked him in deeper with a low hum that rattled through Buck’s bones.

 

“Fuck… Ed—” Buck’s voice caught, hips trying to jerk up, instinct chasing the pleasure, but Eddie’s free hand flattened gently against his stomach, a quiet, wordless stay right here. The contrast made Buck’s pulse kick—Eddie holding him still, keeping that exact, perfect pace.

 

Eddie’s head moved in slow pulls, his cheeks hollowing just enough each time he drew back before sinking down again. Every shift of his tongue felt deliberate, like he was mapping Buck’s reactions, searching for the exact spot that would make his breath catch.

 

“God, that feels so good… baby…” Buck’s words were ragged, almost breathless, the kind of tone that sounded pulled straight from his chest without thought.

 

Eddie hummed against him, vibrations sliding down Buck’s spine until his fingers curled hard in Eddie’s hair.

 

“Eddie…” Buck’s voice broke on the sound, rough and helpless, and Eddie’s eyes flicked up immediately. That connection—Eddie’s mouth still wrapped around him, gaze locked like he didn’t want to miss a single second—hit Buck like a punch to the chest.

 

“That’s it—yeah, just like that,” he gasped, knuckles going white in Eddie’s hair. That was all it took. Buck’s stomach tightened, every muscle going taut as heat rushed through him. He came hard, a breathless curse tearing from his throat, Eddie taking every bit of it without looking away, his throat working until Buck was trembling under his hands.

 

Eddie stayed there, slow and sweet until Buck softened, then kissed his way back up, licking his own lips before pressing his mouth to Buck’s again.

 

*

 

Eddie’s breath came in ragged pants, fingers digging into the smooth surface of the kitchen counter like it was the only thing keeping him tethered. Buck’s hands were relentless, one gripping Eddie’s hip to steady him, the other teasing slow, deliberate circles around the rim of his ass, fingers sliding slick and cool against the hot skin beneath.

 

“Buck...” Eddie’s voice was ragged, barely more than a whisper, trembling with reheated need.

 

Buck pushed the tip of his thumb inside Eddie’s ass, watching it swallow to his first knuckle. The way Eddie’s body reacted—his sharp inhale, the slight arch of his spine—made Buck’s pulse quicken.

 

Eddie’s nails scraped a harsh rhythm against the counter, half frustration, half desperate craving. His whole body arched into Buck’s touch even as he tried to stay grounded, muscles taut with the fire burning deep inside. Every flick of Buck’s thumb at that sensitive edge drew soft, wet groans from the depths of Eddie’s throat, little sounds of surrender that made Buck’s mouth go dry.

 

Buck leaned down, his lips ghosting hot, breathy kisses along the back of Eddie’s neck. “What is it, baby? Want me to take you right here, or do you want me to make you beg first?”

 

Eddie’s breath hitched hard, a tremor running through him as he twisted his head just enough to catch Buck’s eye in the dim kitchen light. His lips parted, eyes dark and glistening, raw with want and something more vulnerable—like he was letting Buck see every jagged edge of his craving.

 

Buck chuckled, low and hungry, sliding his thumb out slowly. The motion earned a frustrated hiss from Eddie, but he stayed draped over the counter, ass perched up perfectly like he belonged there, like this was exactly where he wanted to be.

 

Buck’s fingers wandered then, kneading both ass cheeks, teasing the soft skin of his thighs, before he spread them, lowering himself between Eddie’s legs. His tongue dipped out, wet and warm, licking a long, slow stripe along that slick rim. Eddie’s whole body spasmed, a shudder wracking through him as a strangled gasp tore from his throat.

 

“Buck,” Eddie gasped, voice breaking, “fuck—"

 

Buck lapped delicate circles around that slick, sensitive edge, each flick of his tongue drawing deeper, more desperate groans from Eddie. His head lolled forward, a broken sound escaping as Buck’s mouth took him in with steady, patient attention, savoring the taste, the heat, the way Eddie was completely exposed beneath him.

 

Every flick and swirl of Buck’s tongue pushed Eddie higher, raw, open, utterly surrendered. Buck’s hands held him steady, pressing warm and grounding against his hips as his mouth worked slow, messy magic, imperfect, urgent, full of hungry care.

 

A soft sob slipped from Eddie’s mouth, his knuckles turning white around the counter’s edge. One hand slapped against the wood once, hard and sharp.

 

Buck hummed against him then, the deep vibration rolling through Eddie’s skin, teasing deeper and driving him wild. Eddie’s hips pressed back instinctively, chasing the slick tease with desperate, trembling thrusts.

 

“God, Eds,” Buck whispered against him, before pressing his tongue inside. Eddie shuddered hard, a rough groan spilling from his lips, muffled by the way his forehead rested against the cool counter. Buck’s hands gripped tighter at his ass cheeks, holding him steady while his tongue worked slow, deliberate strokes, pushing just a little deeper before retreating to tease again.

 

Eddie’s breath hitched with every pass, his thighs trembling under Buck’s firm hold. The slick heat, the taste of him, the way Eddie’s body clenched and fluttered around his tongue—it was all too much. Buck could feel his own heartbeat pounding low and insistent, every nerve screaming for more.

 

He teased Eddie for a few more moments, savoring every broken sound that escaped him, but his own need was a wild, thrumming thing now—impossible to ignore.

 

God. He needed to be inside Eddie ages ago.

 

Never mind that they’d already had a first round on the couch not even thirty minutes ago; the hunger had never left. If anything, seeing Eddie like this, sprawled, panting, clawing at the counter like he’d give anything for more, made it worse.

 

Buck pulled back with a last, lingering lick, watching Eddie’s hole twitch in the aftermath. Eddie let out a frustrated, needy whimper that went straight to Buck’s cock.

 

“Please,” Eddie rasped, barely lifting his head, voice rough and desperate. “Just—please.”

 

Buck didn’t waste a second. He straightened, one hand sliding down to grip himself, already slick with need. The other smoothed along Eddie’s back in a quick, grounding touch before he lined himself up, pressing the blunt head against that still-wet, loosened rim.

 

Eddie’s breath stuttered out in a shaky gasp, his fingers curling tighter into the counter’s edge.

 

“Fuck, you feel so ready for me,” Buck groaned, pushing forward slow at first, just enough for the head to breach. Eddie let out a broken moan, head dropping low, hips pushing back to take more.

 

Buck gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to slam in all at once. He slid deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully buried inside, the heat and tightness surrounding him like nothing else existed. His forehead dropped briefly to Eddie’s shoulder, the closeness grounding him as much as it inflamed him.

 

“Yeah,” Buck panted, voice shaking, “just like that… let me have you.”

 

Eddie’s only answer was a ragged groan, his body rocking back into Buck’s with a desperate rhythm that told him exactly how much he wanted it too.

 

Buck didn’t hesitate. He pulled out almost all the way, breath catching as Eddie’s tight heat clenched around him, then slammed back in hard—deep and fast, driven by pure need.

 

Eddie’s nails scrabbled harder against the counter now, dragging, gripping, desperate, like trying to hold on to something steady as his body threatened to shatter. His breath was ragged, loud, every ragged exhale mixing with Buck’s grunts and cursed names.

 

“Buck—fuck, oh god, yeah,” Eddie gasped, hips bucking back without control, matching Buck’s reckless pace, his voice breaking and raw, drenched in want.

 

Buck’s hands weren’t gentle anymore, gripping Eddie’s hips like he needed to keep them both anchored as the heat spiraled, fierce and uncontrollable. Every slam drove them closer to the edge, the sound of skin slapping and heavy breaths filling the kitchen.

 

“Fuck, Eds,” Buck growled, biting into Eddie’s neck, tasting the salt of sweat and desire. “You feel so good—so damn good.”

 

Eddie’s head fell forward, breath catching in a strangled groan, fingers tightening their grip until his knuckles blanched. “Buck, I’m—” His words cut off in a shuddering cry as his body tensed, coiling tighter.

 

Buck groaned low in his throat, digging his hands harder into Eddie’s hips and driving in deeper with a brutal, messy thrust that sent them both spiraling.

 

The world narrowed to the slick heat and wild rhythm, Eddie’s cries and Buck’s groans tangled together in a chaos of need.

 

Then—

 

Eddie’s body arched sharply, a broken, desperate scream tearing from him as he shattered, muscles clenching and pulsing around him.

 

Buck didn’t let up, riding the tremors, chasing his own release, every nerve raw and electric. His vision blurred, breaths ragged, until with one final, messy thrust, he came hard, hot and deep inside Eddie, curse after curse slipping from his lips.

 

They stayed tangled for a long moment, chests heaving, sweat slick and sticky, the only sound their ragged breathing and fast heartbeats thudding between them.

 

Buck lowered his forehead to Eddie’s back, voice rough but tender. “You okay, Eds?”

 

Eddie’s laugh was breathless, shaky but full of love. “Never better.”

 

*

 

Buck hovered above Eddie, feeling the steady heat of his body. Chest against chest. Heart against heart. He kissed him deeply. His hips slowly, softly moving in and out of Eddie’s tight body. Their breaths tangled, ragged and warm in the quiet room. Buck leaned down, lips brushing Eddie’s collarbone, voice low and soft. “You okay, Eds?”

 

Eddie squirmed beneath him, eyes half-lidded but fierce. “Buck—fuck, can you just—” A sharp breath escaped Eddie’s lips, and then he chuckled breathlessly. “—fuck me faster, would you?”

 

Buck froze for a moment, the words hanging between them. Then that slow, crooked grin spread across his face. He pressed a gentle kiss beneath Eddie’s jaw before murmuring, “I’m not fucking you, Eds. I’m making love to you.”

 

Eddie’s smirk deepened, eyes sparkling with mischief and want. “Yeah? Well, I like my love messy and fast.”

 

Buck laughed quietly, slipping his hands to cradle Eddie’s face, fingers threading through his hair, anchoring them both. He lowered himself fully onto Eddie, feeling every inch of him.

 

“Messy and fast it is,” Buck whispered against Eddie’s lips before capturing his mouth in a fierce, tender kiss—wild and slow all at once, a promise in every touch.

 

Eddie’s arms wrapped around Buck’s neck, pulling him closer, and the rhythm between them surged, urgent, messy, and full of everything they were together.

 

Buck’s hips met Eddie’s in a hard, desperate rhythm now, the kind that left no space between them, just heat and the damp slide of skin on skin. Every thrust made Eddie gasp, the sound shooting straight through Buck’s chest.

 

Eddie had his legs hooked tight around Buck’s waist, heels digging in like he couldn’t stand the thought of letting him go. His hands roamed—gripping Buck’s shoulders, clawing lightly down his back, cupping his jaw like he needed to feel every part of him at once.

 

“God, you feel so good,” Buck breathed, his forehead resting against Eddie’s as his pace picked up. “Every time—every time, Eds—” His words broke off in a groan when Eddie rolled his hips up to meet him, the friction almost too much.

 

Eddie’s eyes were blown wide, his lips parted, the kind of wrecked look that Buck wanted to keep forever. “Don’t stop,” Eddie panted, voice trembling, “don’t you dare—”

 

“Not a chance,” Buck promised, punctuating it with a deep thrust that made Eddie’s fingers spasm against his skin.

 

Their rhythm got messy, uneven, but neither cared—every movement was about chasing the next wave, about holding each other so tight the world outside didn’t matter. Buck kissed him again, sloppy and hot, tasting his ragged breaths.

 

“Love you,” Buck murmured into Eddie’s mouth, the words slipping out between gasps. Eddie made a broken sound in response, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and Buck could feel him trembling under his hands, right on the edge.

 

Buck could feel Eddie tightening around him, every muscle drawn taut, his nails biting into Buck’s shoulders like he needed something to hold onto while he fell apart.

 

“Buck—” Eddie’s voice cracked, his head tipping back into the pillow. “Faster—fuck, I’m so close—”

 

Buck’s chest heaved, his pace stuttering for a moment before he locked eyes with him. “I love you,” he repeated.

 

Something in Eddie’s expression broke wide open at that—his eyes glassy, his jaw slack, his breath catching like Buck had just stripped him bare in a way nothing else could. And then Buck drove into him again, deeper, harder, every thrust carrying all the heat and tenderness tangled up in his chest.

 

Eddie’s back arched, a loud, desperate moan tearing out of him, and Buck felt him clench down tight—so tight it nearly undid him right there. “Buck—fuck, I—” Eddie’s words dissolved into a gasp as he came, hot release streaking between them, his body trembling violently.

 

Buck swallowed the sound Eddie made with his mouth, kissing him deep as his own control shattered. He spilled into him with a low, drawn-out groan, holding Eddie’s hips flush against his as if he could anchor them both in that single moment.

 

They stayed like that, pressed together, catching each other’s ragged breaths. Buck’s forehead rested against Eddie’s, his hands stroking slowly over sweat-slicked skin.

 

“I love you,” Buck murmured again, softer now, almost reverent.

 

Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, still hazy, a small smile curving his lips as he whispered, “Love you too. Always.”

 

Buck grinned, leaning back a little. “So, did you get it out of your system?”

 

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “I don’t think that’s possible with you.”

 

*

“Hey,” Buck murmured later that night. They’d showered, stripped the bed, and collapsed beneath the duvet. Eddie was draped over him, warm and heavy, his head tucked beneath Buck’s chin. Buck’s fingers traced lazy, soothing paths down the bare line of Eddie’s spine.

He still hadn’t told him.

 

Eddie hummed in response, teetering on the edge of sleep.

 

“Tomorrow’s my interview.”

 

Eddie’s body stirred. He lifted his head, resting his chin against Buck’s chest. “You’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “Just don’t say anything. They can’t force you to know what you don’t know.”

 

Buck’s brows pulled together. “But I do know.”

 

Eddie’s jaw tightened.

 

“I know what happened between him and me,” Buck went on. “And I know why you hit him.”

 

Eddie pushed off him, sitting up abruptly. “You think telling them is gonna fix this?” His voice carried an edge now.

 

Buck sat up too. “I think burying it means you’ll carry it until it destroys you.”

 

Eddie’s frown deepened, irritation flickering in his eyes. “I’d rather lose my job than have you put that on record.”

 

Buck shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”

 

“I do—”

 

“Besides,” Buck cut in, his tone low but fierce, “I don’t want to lose you because I was too scared to speak up. I let him take my voice once. I’m not doing it again if it means losing you, Eddie.”

 

Eddie exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging. “You won’t lose me, Buck. You’d probably have to kill me to get rid of me.”

 

That dragged a short laugh out of Buck.

 

“Don’t tell them.”

 

Buck sighed, reaching out to cup Eddie’s jaw, his thumb brushing the stubble there. His smile was soft, but his eyes still held a quiet determination.

 

“You’d be okay with the whole department knowing?”

 

“No,” Buck admitted. “But I’d be okay if it meant they stopped looking at you like the villain.”

 

Eddie leaned into his hand, his own fingers curling over Buck’s. He held Buck’s gaze. “Don’t, Buck. I’ll be fine.”

 

“I’ll be finer once we’re back on shift together,” Buck said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. He eased Eddie back down beside him, pulling the duvet over them again.

 

But even as Eddie’s breathing slowed and his body went slack from exhaustion, still wrecked from their sex-marathon earlier, Buck’s mind wouldn’t still. The same thoughts churned, looping over and over.

 

By morning, Eddie was still asleep. Buck kissed his temple, left a note on the pillow that said he’d be back after his shift and that he loved him, then slipped quietly out the door.

 

I’d rather lose my job than have you put that on record.

 

But it was already on record.

 

Not officially—not yet. But it was carved into Buck’s memory, into the skin he used to wear with shame and silence. What Tommy had done wasn’t just a footnote in a failed relationship. It was trauma. It was control. It was a series of small violations wrapped in the language of love and twisted permission. The kind of thing that didn’t always leave visible bruises but rewrote how you understood your body. Your worth. Your voice.

 

And Eddie had seen through all of it.

 

That’s why Buck was here now, walking down the too-bright hallway of Internal Affairs with his palms sweating and his heart clawing at his ribs.

 

He didn’t want this to be real. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Eddie go down for protecting him.

 

He swallowed and pulled out his phone for something else he had to do. He ignored Eddie’s missed calls and texts and opened his chat with Athena.

 

Buck: please tell bobby for me

 

He knocked on the door and got inside. The room was small and clinical, like every interrogation scene he’d seen on TV, minus the drama. The table was gray. The chairs metal. A recording device sat in the center of the table.

 

Exactly how Eddie, Hen, Chim, and Ravi had sketched the scene of their interrogation.

 

Investigator Larkin sat on one side, notebook open, pen ready. Across from him sat Kara. They had already met and talked through things. Her words had eased his nerves a little: “If he tries to twist your words, I’ll shut it down.”

 

“Mr. Buckley, at last we meet,” Larkin said, standing up to shake Buck’s hand.

 

Buck just nodded once, shaking his hand probably too tightly. His heart had taken permanent residence in

 

“Let’s start,” Larkin said, motioning for Buck to sit down on the chair next to Kara.

 

They both sat down, and Larkin pressed the recorder on. The red light shone immediately.

 

“For the record, this is investigator Larkin,” he began. “Present are Evan Buckley, badge number 6137, firefighter assigned to Station 118, and his Union Representative, Kara Granger. This is a continuation of our investigation into the incident on August 16^th involving off-duty firefighter Edmundo Diaz and off-duty firefighter Thomas Kinard at Jerry’s Bar.”

 

He looked up at Buck.

 

“Are you aware this interview is being recorded, Firefighter Buckley?”

 

Buck nodded once. “Yes,” he said, his voice clear despite the knot in his throat. His knee started bouncing underneath the table absentmindedly.

 

“Let’s start simply. Where were you when the incident occurred?”

 

“Um, I was at Jerry’s too. At the, um, the bar, ordering for the rest of the team. It was a very long list.”

 

Larkin wrote something down and Buck peeked at it, but it was too small to read. Or some sort of code even.

 

“And in your own words, how did the altercation begin?”

 

Buck stared at his hands for a long moment. They were clasped tight on the table, knuckles white. His knee was still bouncing up and down, unable to calm his nerves.

 

It was now or never. This was the moment.

 

He could lie. Again. Like he had done the past two weeks. Say he doesn’t know what had set Eddie off. Say he was as confused and shocked like everyone else. Say it was out of nowhere.

 

But he’d already been carrying this secret for too long. And Eddie had carried enough. It wasn’t even supposed to land on his shoulders.

 

“Well, Tommy—uh, Thomas Kinard, he touched me,” Buck said finally, stumbling over his words awkwardly.

 

Larkin blinked, clearly caught off guard by the directness. Buck wondered for a moment how often that happened.

 

“Touched you…?” Larkin repeated.

 

“Not like that,” Buck said quickly. “He just, he touched my neck.”

 

Larkin wrote something down again, but there was a small frown above his eyes.

 

Buck looked at Kara for a moment, who had been quiet through all of it. She gave him an encouraging nod. But he also remembered her words. She had told him if at any point he changed his mind he didn’t have to go further if he didn’t want to.

 

“But it wasn’t… just that,” Buck said, earning Larkin’s eyes on him again.

 

He leaned forward slightly. “Go on.”

 

“Kinard and I… we were together. For a while. Last year.”

 

Larkin nodded. “And now you and Mr. Diaz are together. Correct?”

 

“Yes,” Buck replied, then he added quickly, “but it wasn’t jealousy or something like that. I mean… Eddie is a jealous person, but he doesn’t fight people off that way. At least not with fists. He can be quiet—”

 

“Buck,” Kara interrupted.

 

Buck rubbed his neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble.”

 

There fell a silence for a moment, which made Buck fidget again.

 

“If it wasn’t jealously, then what was it?” Larkin asked. “According to you.”

 

“There was a pattern of coercion. He—he used my trust. My willingness to… to please. Made me think he’d leave me if I didn’t do certain things, if I didn’t… endure certain things. He’d ignore my boundaries. Sometimes he’d guilt me into things. Sometimes he didn’t say anything at all. He just took.”

 

A beat. The room seemed to hold its breath. Buck looked at Kara again. She nodded at him again, closing her eyes for a moment, reassuringly.

 

“So… when he touched me at Jerry’s…” Buck continued, quieter now, “it wasn’t innocent. It was calculated. Like he knew he could still get a reaction. Like he knew he could rile me and Eddie up at the same time.”

 

Larkin scribbled something down again. “Did you and Mr. Diaz ever speak about this?”

 

Buck nodded. “Yeah. He knew. I told him last month. I didn’t want to… No one knew. But he figured it out.”

 

“And do you believe that’s why Mr. Diaz attacked Mr. Kinard?”

 

“Yes,” Buck said, without hesitation.

 

“Did you ask him to?” Larkin asked.

 

“No.”

 

“And do you believe Mr. Diaz acted to defend you?”

 

Buck swallowed, looking away for a moment. Because that was exactly what Eddie had done. No matter that it hadn’t been a life-or-death-situation, it had felt like one. His whole body had reacted like it had been.

 

So, Buck told Larkin.

 

“But, technically, you weren’t in danger,” Larkin noted.

 

“Maybe not physically,” Buck shrugged. “But, and I say this with all due respect, sir, you’re looking at this wrong. You’re looking at this like it’s, it’s black and white. Like there’s danger or there’s nothing. Danger isn’t directly related to death. Sometime the worst danger is feeling powerless again. Sometimes it’s trauma. Sometimes it’s your whole body locking up because someone touches you and you just want to go home and cry and puke your guts out because why would he do something like that? But even worse, why did I stay?”

 

Larkin looked at him for a long moment. His pen stopped moving.

 

Buck bit his lip, stopping another word vomit. Or maybe real vomit. Because why was it suddenly so hot in here? Why were his eyes stinging? Why were the walls so bare, no distraction at all to focus on?

 

“Buck?” Kara’s voice pulled him back. “Do you need a moment?”

 

Buck shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “I just… I just want this to be over. I just need you to understand,” he said, looking back at Larkin. “That even though beating someone up is never the answer, it isn’t always bad.”

 

“But Mr. Diaz has been an Army Medic. He’s a firefighter. He knows he could’ve pushed him back. He could’ve spoken to him. He could’ve even floored him.” Larkin tilted his head. “Right?”

 

“Do you have a partner, Mr. Larkin?”

 

“I don’t see how that is relevant to this investigation.”

 

“Just humor me,” Buck shrugged.

 

“I do. I’ve been married to my wife for almost twenty years.”

 

Buck nodded. “Well, almost congratulations then,” he said. Then, more agitated he followed his line of thought. “However, what if she told you right now that she has been abused by someone she thought she loved. Someone she trusted. What if that someone took her virginity, made her end up bleeding at the hospital, needing stitches. Made her think it was normal to feel like complete shit every time they were intimate. Tell me, would you not want to beat the crap out of him if he even had the audacity to look at her? Breath the same air as her?”

 

Larkin didn’t answer. But he didn’t have to, the questions where rhetorical. A silence fell. But Buck had been right, something shifted in Larkin’s eyes.

 

“I’m not here to defend Eddie’s actions. I’m here to tell you Eddie Diaz is a good man. He’s a great father and the best partner I’ve ever had. He’s been withholding this information because he knows I’ve never told a single soul until last month and I didn’t want this to become a department thing. Or even a thing that people knew about me. But if you think for a moment that Eddie needs to lose his job over protecting me, while Tommy gets to play the hero and the victim, your whole system is bullshit.”

 

“Language,” Larkin murmured.

 

“Yeah, well, sorry,” Buck said, not sorry at all.

 

Another silence fell, and still, Buck itched to fill it.

 

“I know the department cares about their image, and with good right,” he said. “But if that means that you micromanage what happens in firefighters’ free time, whether good or bad, you can start a whole list. Alcoholics. Creative drug users. Cheaters. Liars. Thieves. You want me to keep going?”

 

Larkin held his hand up. “They had already warned me about you, Buckley.”

 

“What for?”

 

“That you talk a lot,” Larkin answered. Then he added, quieter, “And fight like a lion for the people you care about.”

 

“Yeah, well…” Buck hummed again, leaning back into his chair. “I just don’t want to see anyone ruin their life because of something that happened to me.”

 

After those words it didn’t take Larkin long to wrap up the interview. He didn’t smile. He didn’t thank him. He didn’t say anything definitive. He just stood, told him they’d be in touch, clicked the recorder off, grabbed his stuff, and left the room.

 

Kara gave him a small smile.

 

*

 

 

Buck still had time before his shift started. Too much time, really. Going home after the IA interview wasn’t an option—not with the adrenaline still hammering through his system like a second heartbeat. So he went to the station instead, figuring a solid workout might burn it out of him.

 

God, Larkin was the worst.

 

He’d thought the others had been exaggerating, but now? Now he got it. Chim had said talking to the guy was like talking to a wall. Hen swore she felt like she needed to be baptized after leaving the interrogation room. Even Ravi, who never spoke ill of people he didn’t know, had muttered that the man gave off a bad aura. And Buck… Buck would’ve happily added “soul-sucking vampire” to that list.

 

He shrugged off his jacket in the locker room and headed for the gym space in the back of the bay. The clang of weights, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the bite of strain in his muscles helped keep his mind from circling the interview too much.

 

He didn’t notice Cap until he heard the footsteps—steady, deliberate—crossing the bay toward him.

 

“Got a minute?” Bobby asked, voice calm as ever.

 

Buck racked the barbell and turned, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “Yeah, sure, Cap. What’s up?”

 

“Step into my office for a second.”

 

Buck followed, confused until midway there it hit him. He’d texted Athena before the interview, asked her to tell Bobby what had happened between him and Tommy. The whole truth. Maybe she had. He hadn’t checked his phone.

 

Shit.

 

Except, when they sat down, Bobby didn’t go straight for it.

 

“How you feeling?” Bobby asked instead, leaning back in his chair.

 

Buck blinked, thrown off. “Uh… fine. I mean… still kind of wound up from the interview. Larkin—he’s—” Buck shook his head, the words tumbling out fast. “He just sits there with that expressionless face, scribbling in his stupid notebook, and you can’t tell if he’s judging you or if he’s bored, and I swear, every time he said Eddie’s name, it felt like he was accusing him of—of—” Buck cut himself off with a frustrated exhale. “Eddie doesn’t deserve this.”

 

Bobby just nodded, letting him get it out. “How’d the interview go otherwise?”

 

“As good as it could, I guess. I said what I needed to say.” Buck hesitated, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Doesn’t mean it’s over.”

 

“Never does,” Bobby said. “Especially with IA.”

 

They drifted into small talk for a few minutes—about Buck being early for shift, about some of the station’s upcoming maintenance headaches, even about the weather. But eventually the conversation slowed, the quiet stretching out between them.

 

Bobby studied him for a long moment before speaking again, voice softer this time.

 

“I promised myself I wouldn’t ask,” he said. “Figured if you wanted to tell me, you would. But I’m going to ask anyway.” His eyes held Buck’s, steady but not unkind. “Why didn’t you tell me, kid?”

 

Buck’s mouth went dry. He didn’t need to ask what Bobby was talking about. The air between them felt heavier now, like the question had pulled something hidden into the light.

 

Bobby kept his voice low. “About Kinard. About what happened between you two.”

 

Buck’s hands curled into fists on his knees, nails digging into his palms. There were a hundred ways to deflect, to turn this into another vague shrug and say it wasn’t that bad. But Bobby wasn’t Larkin. Bobby wasn’t prying to make a case. He was asking because he cared.

 

Buck swallowed hard, words catching at the edge of his throat, eyes fixed on a scuff mark on Bobby’s desk rather than the man sitting across from him.

 


“I… I didn’t want you to see me any differently,” he finally said, voice low. “You’ve always—” He broke off, shaking his head. “You’ve always treated me like I was worth something. Like I wasn’t just… the screw-up. I didn’t want to mess that up.”

 

Bobby’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t speak yet. He just waited.

 

Buck’s throat felt tight. “And I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad. That it didn’t matter. That it was just… a couple of bad months with the wrong person. I said it so many times that I almost believed it. Until—” His voice hitched, and he dragged a hand down his face. “Until he touched me at Jerry’s. And Eddie—Eddie saw too. And it’s like my body remembered before my brain did.”

 

Silence stretched, heavy but not empty. Bobby leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk.

 

“Buck,” he said, voice rougher than usual. “You listen to me, and you listen good. Nothing—nothing—about what that man did to you changes who you are to me. You’re still the same guy I hired, the same guy I’ve trusted with my life, with everyone’s life here. You’re my family. My kid. And there is nothing—nothing—you could tell me that would make me think less of you.”

 

Buck blinked hard, willing the sting in his eyes to go away. “You say that, but—”

 

“No.” Bobby’s tone sharpened. “There’s no ‘but’. You survived something no one should have to. That doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you less. It makes you stronger than most people I’ve ever met. And if I’d known back then—” His jaw tightened. “If I’d known, I’d have made sure Kinard never set foot near you again. On or off duty.”

 

A humorless laugh escaped Buck. “You and Eddie both.”

 

“Yeah, well, Eddie’s method was messier.” The corner of Bobby’s mouth twitched, but his eyes stayed serious. “And now you’re both paying for it, because you’re trying to protect each other instead of yourselves.”

 

Buck looked away again, the weight of those words pressing down.

 

“But you told IA, and that’s what counts right now.”

 

Buck shook his head. “What if it wasn’t enough? Eddie’s career could be over…”

 

Cap shook his head. “I trust it’s enough. Besides, if you hadn’t told Larkin, you’d both be carrying this around like it’s a secret you have to be ashamed of.”

 

Buck didn’t answer right away. The clock on the wall ticked softly in the background, counting out the seconds while he tried to will himself to believe that too.

 

“We’ll take it one step at a time. But don’t shut me out, Buck. You don’t have to do this alone.”

 

Buck managed a nod, even though his chest still felt tight. “Okay.”

 

Bobby sat back, studying him for another beat before finally letting him go. “Alright. Get back to your workout. And Buck?”

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m proud of you. You hear me?”

 

The words hit harder than Buck expected. “Yeah, Cap. I hear you.”

Chapter 30

Notes:

:)

Eddie swallowed hard as he lowered himself into the chair across from Bobby’s desk. His palms were damp against his thighs. Bobby had called him that morning—said the investigation was wrapped. And now, here he was, staring at one of his closest friends, his captain, feeling like his heartbeat was ricocheting around in his chest.

 

Because there was a real possibility—no, a probability—that today ended with him unemployed. And worse, with Bobby looking at him like he wasn’t worth the uniform anymore.

 

But it’s for Buck, he reminded himself, gripping that thought like a lifeline. All of it is for Buck. He’s worth everything.

 

“How’ve you been, Eddie?” Bobby asked, steady eyes on him.

 

The tone was calmer than that awful day at the hospital when Buck had been lying pale and broken in a bed. Less fire. There was even… something like hope in Bobby’s gaze.

 

Pity. That had to be it. Bobby was going soft on him because he pitied him.

 

“Good,” Eddie lied smoothly, forcing his voice not to shake. “Just… missing work. And the team.”

 

“Yeah, I can imagine,” Bobby said with a small nod. “From talking to them every day to almost three weeks of no contact.”

 

Eddie blinked. Why is he being so damn considerate? Compassion didn’t feel like a good sign. It felt like the pause before the guillotine fell.

 

Fuck. He was about to get fired.

 

Bobby cleared his throat. “The reason I called you here today is because the investigation’s over. Larkin’s finished the report. I’ve got a copy here for you.” He reached into a drawer and slid a folder across the desk. Official LAFD cover. Heavy. Final. “The Chief, HR, and I had a few meetings after the interviews wrapped up.”

 

This was it. All or nothing.

 

“You’ve been exonerated from all charges,” Bobby said.

 

For a second, Eddie thought he’d misheard him. His heart dropped so fast it felt like it hit the floor.

 

Holy—

 

“However,” Bobby added.

 

The bubble of relief popped instantly, replaced by the same tight coil of dread in his gut.

 

“Anger management is mandatory,” Bobby continued, his voice even.

 

Eddie nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. Of course. Anything.”

 

That earned him the first real smile from Bobby since that night at Jerry’s. And God, it was pathetic how much it settled Eddie’s nerves.

 

“Per the Chief, you’ve got six weeks to finish anger management. First session’s next Tuesday.” 

 

Eddie leaned forward. “What about work? Can I start again? Chris is back in school, my sisters went home, and I’m going out of my mind at home.”

 

Bobby huffed a laugh. “You can start right now. The others will be walking in any minute.” He glanced at the clock.

 

Eddie hesitated. “Bobby… I… Thank you. I know you were upset with me. But I also know I’ve got you to thank for being exonerated.”

 

Before Bobby could answer, movement caught their eye. Over his shoulder, Buck and Ravi were walking into the station, bumping shoulders like teenagers, clearly bickering over something. Hen and Chim headed straight for the locker room.

 

“Go join them,” Bobby said. Then his tone softened. “And Eddie? You’ve got Buck to thank.”

 

The words landed like a punch and a balm all at once. Eddie turned back to Bobby, reading in his eyes what Bobby wasn’t saying.

 

He told them.

 

Eddie barely registered himself standing, the scrape of the chair legs, or the hum of conversation drifting from the bay. The world had narrowed to one impossible fact, and the blond idiot who had made it real.

 

Buck. Stubborn, reckless, unbearably good Buck. The man who had just handed over his deepest, rawest truth for Eddie’s sake.

 

“Hey, Eddie!” Hen’s voice cut through the haze, but he didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were locked on the familiar mess of curls ahead of him, the way Buck’s shoulders moved as he laughed at something Ravi said.

 

Buck turned just in time for Eddie to close the distance, crowding him back against the lockers. Eddie’s hands came up to cradle his face, thumbs brushing over skin he’d only ever let himself imagine touching like this, in front of others—and then he kissed him. No hesitation. No thought. Just Buck.

 

Buck startled half a breath, no more, and then melted into it, kissing him back.

 

“Well… okay, then,” Hen muttered somewhere in the background.

 

“Maybe not have sex here, Buck Buckley,” Ravi added, but they were just voices in the fog.

 

Eddie broke the kiss just enough to whisper, almost against Buck’s lips, “You did that for me?”

 

Buck’s answering grin was small, soft, and so painfully Buck. “Yeah. Guess I did.”

 

Eddie’s chest tightened until he almost couldn’t breathe. “I hate you,” he growled, though his voice betrayed him, thick with something that wasn’t hate at all.

 

“Sure you do,” Buck said, eyes bright. “And I love you too.”

 

Somewhere nearby, Chim snorted. Hen’s cough sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Eddie didn’t care.

 

“You being here…” Hen’s voice finally broke through the fog, cautious. “Does that mean something for the investigation?”

 

It took effort—actual effort—for Eddie to drag his gaze away from Buck. “I was exonerated,” he said, the words tasting like relief.

 

Ravi whooped. Chim clapped him on the back. Hen smiled, warm and genuine, congratulating him.

 

But Eddie was already looking at Buck again, searching those impossible blue eyes for—hell, he didn’t even know what. Gratitude. Understanding. Something he couldn’t put into words.

 

Buck had done it. Told Larkin his deepest secret. All for Eddie.

 

Buck didn’t look away. Not once. Even with the bustle of the locker room around them—Hen pulling on her jacket, Chim chatting with Ravi, the low murmur of the bay—Buck just stood there, meeting Eddie’s gaze like there was no one else in the world.

 

It was dizzying. Overwhelming. Eddie felt the tight pull in his chest, the kind that usually came before panic, but this wasn’t panic. This was… too much in a completely different way.

 

“You shouldn’t have,” Eddie said finally, voice low, like admitting it too loudly might shatter the fragile, private bubble between them. “That was yours, Buck. Not for them. Not for Larkin.”

 

Buck’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—pain, maybe, or the echo of it. “It was for you,” he said simply, like that explained everything.

 

No one had ever loved Eddie in this way Buck did.

 

Eddie’s throat tightened. He wanted to say thank you. He wanted to say I’m sorry. He wanted to say a dozen things he’d never said to anyone. But all that came out was, “You don’t… you don’t know what that means to me.”

 

Buck huffed a little laugh, soft and warm. “Pretty sure I do, Eds.” He reached out, fingertips brushing Eddie’s cheek, grounding him in a way nothing else could. “Come on,” Buck said. “Let’s get dressed before someone writes us up for excessive PDA.”

 

“Pretty sure I already have,” Hen muttered behind them.

 

Buck snorted, and with a last soft look at Eddie turned to finish dressing. Minutes later, as they stepped out of the locker room together, Eddie felt the weight of the last few weeks settle differently, less like a boulder crushing him, more like something he could finally set down.

 

Buck had carried part of it for him. Without asking. Without hesitation.

 

And Eddie knew, without a doubt, that he’d spend the rest of his life making sure Buck never had to carry anything like that alone again.

 

*

 

His first shift back was… fine. At least, that’s what Eddie kept telling himself.

 

He moved through the motions—checking the rig, double-knotting the hoses, scanning the med bag inventory—like nothing had changed. Like his body didn’t know the weight of eyes on him.

 

The first time, it was by the coffee machine. Two probies Eddie barely knew were pouring themselves cups, mid-conversation. They stopped when he stepped in, glancing at each other before one offered him a polite nod. Too polite. The kind of politeness you used when you weren’t sure if you were standing in front of a ticking clock or a grenade. Eddie poured his coffee, said nothing, and left.

 

Later, in the bay, he caught another one, an older firefighter from B-shift, leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. Eddie didn’t think much of it until he felt the man’s eyes track him all the way to the rig. Not hostile, exactly. Just… curious. Invasive in a way that made Eddie’s jaw tighten.

 

The whispers were quieter than he’d imagined they’d be. Once, while he was coiling hose, he caught a soft exchange from somewhere near the lockers:

 

“—thought they were friends—”

 

“—you don’t just swing like that unless—”

 

Then it cut off. Boots scuffed against tile, voices lowering to nothing.

 

Or a table went quiet when he sat down, picking up again only after he’d started eating. Their laughter didn’t sound quite the same, it had an edge to it, like they were talking about something just out of earshot.

 

Buck didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did and was just better at hiding it. He was still Buck—warm, loud, throwing himself into conversation with Hen and Ravi, stealing fries from Eddie’s plate like nothing in the world was different.

 

Sure, Eddie always hung out with his friends. But right now, it felt like the only place that still felt normal. The rest of the station wasn’t hostile. Not really. But the air had shifted.

 

The ride back from the call was loud. Loud in that comfortable, familiar way Eddie usually liked.

 

Ravi and Buck were mid-argument about whether a hotdog was a sandwich, which had somehow spiraled into a heated debate over burritos, chiming laughter from Chim and Hen breaking up the ridiculousness. Bobby kept his eyes on the road, only occasionally tossing a “Don’t encourage them” over his shoulder.

 

Eddie sat opposite Buck, watching the blonde’s animated hands as he made his case. It was all noise and warmth and home in this truck. Eddie didn’t have to join in to feel part of it. Normally, he would’ve tossed in a jab just to shut Buck up, but right now… he just let the chatter wash over him, a thin smile pulling at his mouth.

 

Buck caught his eye once mid-sentence, eyebrows lifting in question like he’d noticed the quiet, but Eddie only shook his head. Buck’s smile softened before he turned back to the argument.

 

By the time they rolled into the station, the debate had fizzled into Ravi’s sulking and Buck’s smug grin, both of them still throwing half-hearted jabs as they piled out of the truck. Eddie followed, boots heavy on the bay floor, the echo of laughter still lingering in his chest—until it wasn’t.

 

The sound shifted.

 

B-shift was clustered near the lockers, half in gear, half in civvies, leaning casual against the wall. Their laughter dulled when Eddie passed. It never stopped entirely, though it changed. Lowered voices. Snickers that weren’t meant to carry but did anyway.

 

“—thought he’d get suspended—”

 

“—over a guy, right? You know who—”

 

“—Tommy—”

 

Eddie’s jaw flexed but he didn’t look at them. He kept walking, unbuckling his turnout jacket, focusing on the familiar click of the clasps.

 

Buck, however, stopped.

 

The air went still in a way Eddie felt down his spine. Silence spread like a fuse catching fire before Buck’s voice cut through it, loud, steady, but with that edge Eddie knew too well.

 

“You got something you want to say about my boyfriend?” he asked. “Go ahead. I’ll wait.”

 

The murmuring stopped. Nobody met his eyes.

 

“That’s what I thought.” Buck took a step closer, boots heavy, shoulders squared. His voice dropped, colder, harsher. “You want to whisper about Eddie? About us? Don’t. I hear it again, I don’t care whose shift you’re on, I’ll make sure you regret opening your mouth at all. Understood?”

 

It wasn’t a shout. It was worse. It was calm and venomous, carrying enough heat to silence the entire bay.

 

One of the B-shift firefighters, Eddie didn’t bother to clock who, cleared their throat, muttered something like, “No one’s saying anything, Buckley.”

 

Buck’s eyes were spitting fire. “Yeah. Keep it that way.”

 

“Come on, Buck,” Chim muttered, half-exasperated, half-concerned. “Before you end up on leave, too.”

 

Buck didn’t answer, but he did make his way towards Eddie again. His shoulder brushed Eddie’s, like it always did when they walked side by side, close and steady. They walked together toward their lockers.

 

Eddie kept his eyes on his gear, hands working faster than they should, but his chest was tight. Buck’s defense was loud enough, fierce enough, that it echoed long after.

 

And Eddie realized he didn’t have to look back to know the bay was still dead silent, all eyes on them.

 

Buck stayed close. Closer than close, a wall of heat and fury Eddie hadn’t asked for but felt sink into him, a protection that cut straight to the bone.

 

They changed in silence, the buzz of the station a low hum Eddie tuned out. By the time they walked out to the lot, the unspoken plan was already there. Buck to his Jeep, Eddie to his truck. They fell into step again only once Eddie opened his own front door later that morning.

 

The house was quiet. Eddie dropped his bag by the couch, toeing off his boots, and Buck was right behind him, keys jingling, carrying the kind of restless energy that hadn’t burned off in the ride over.

 

Eddie headed for the kitchen, more out of habit than thirst, opening a cabinet just to stare at the glasses. His chest was tight again, like the air hadn’t loosened since the bay.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said finally, voice low, rough.

 

“Do what?” Buck’s tone was sharp, defensive already, and when Eddie turned, he found him standing there with his jacket half off, jaw set like he’d been waiting for this.

 

“You know what,” Eddie said. “Back at the station.”

 

Buck dropped the jacket onto the couch. “What was I supposed to do? Just let them talk about you like that? Like you’re—” His voice broke sharp. “Like you’re some kind of joke?”

 

Eddie braced his hands on the counter, staring at it. “It’s just talk, Buck. You know how it is. It’ll blow over.”

 

“No.” Buck’s voice snapped like a whip. He crossed the space, stopping just short of Eddie, eyes blazing. “No, it’s not just talk. It’s respect. And I’m not gonna stand there and let anyone take it from you. Not after everything—” He cut himself off, chest heaving.

 

Eddie swallowed hard, fighting the knot in his throat. “You can’t fight every battle for me.”

 

“I don’t care,” Buck shot back. “I’ll fight every damn one if it means you don’t have to stand there alone.”

 

The words cracked something open. Eddie’s eyes burned, his shoulders sagging under the weight he’d carried all day. “You were kinda scary,” he admitted, trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably. “Not because of them… because of you. The way you looked at them… you meant it. Like you’d tear them apart if they pushed you.”

 

Buck’s chest rose and fell hard. He stepped closer, finally reaching for Eddie’s arm. “I meant every word,” he said, softer now but no less fierce. “I’m not gonna let anyone make you feel smaller than you are. Not on my watch.”

 

Eddie’s laugh came out shaky. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’re insane, you know that?”

 

“Yeah,” Buck said, tugging him in until Eddie’s forehead rested against his shoulder. “Insane for you.”

 

The fight drained out of Eddie with a long exhale, the day’s weight slipping, just a little. He let himself stand there, let Buck’s arms anchor him, let his forehead rest against Buck’s shoulder a beat longer, then exhaled and pulled back.

 

“We need a shower,” he muttered, trying to scrape the exhaustion out of his voice.

 

“Yeah,” Buck said, lips twitching like he wanted to smile but wasn’t sure if it was allowed yet. “Separately or…?”

 

Eddie shot him a look. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Not denying that.” Buck grinned, wide and shameless, and the crack in Eddie’s chest widened just enough for air to rush in.

 

Ten minutes later, steam was already curling against the bathroom mirror, and Eddie was regretting every choice that had led to agreeing to this. Buck was humming—actually humming—as he crowded in, shoving at Eddie with an elbow.

 

“You always hog the water,” Buck complained.

 

“I was here first,” Eddie deadpanned, shifting just enough that the spray angled back at his chest.

 

“You don’t even like hot showers,” Buck accused, squinting through the mist. “You keep it lukewarm, like some kind of—”

 

“Normal person?” Eddie offered.

 

“Monster,” Buck corrected, shoving at his shoulder until water splashed down Eddie’s back. “Absolute monster.”

 

Eddie snorted, finally. “Move over, before I kick you out and lock the door.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, hand on the glass panel like he might prove the point right then.

 

“Okay, okay!” Buck laughed, hands raised in surrender. “Truce. Equal water rights.”

 

They stood chest to chest under the spray, steam fogging everything, silence stretching out, comfortable now, softened by the sound of water. Eddie reached for the soap, but Buck caught his wrist and stole it with a grin that was all teeth.

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Eddie muttered, but there was no heat in it.

 

“Unbelievable for you,” Buck said, deliberately echoing his earlier words, softer this time, and pressed the soap back into Eddie’s palm.

 

Eddie shook his head, but the smile tugged at his mouth anyway. Tired as he was, weighed down by the day, it felt lighter here, like Buck had dragged the shadows out into the water and washed them away.

 

And when Buck leaned in, bumping his shoulder again with a boyish grin, Eddie let a laugh slip out, warm and real, echoing against the tiles. He barely got two swipes of soap across his chest before Buck snatched it out of his hand again.

 

“Seriously?” Eddie asked, deadpan.

 

“What? Sharing is caring.” Buck lathered his arms, grinning like a kid who’d just stolen the last cookie.

 

“That’s not sharing. That’s theft.”

 

Buck gasped. “Wow. Theft? Big word for a guy who calls the remote ‘the clicker’.”

 

Eddie’s head snapped up. “I do not.”

 

“You absolutely do.” Buck nodded solemnly, suds sliding down his arm. “Cap heard you last month. We had a whole discussion about it.”

 

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You’re making that up.”

 

“Ask him,” Buck said, smirking. “But not right now, because you’re hogging all the water again.” He edged closer, trying to muscle Eddie out of the stream.

 

Eddie stood his ground. “I’m not moving.”

 

“You’re impossible.”

 

“You’re slippery,” Eddie countered, shoving at Buck’s soapy shoulder.

 

Buck slid dramatically, like he’d been shoved off a cliff, one hand braced on the tile as he cried out, “Assault!”

 

Eddie barked a laugh before he could stop himself. “You’re such a dumbass.”

 

“I’m a dumbass who smells better than you.” Buck wiggled his eyebrows, waving the soap like a trophy.

 

“Give me that.” Eddie reached for it, but Buck held it over his head.

 

“You want it?” Buck taunted. “Come and get it.”

 

Eddie sighed, muttering, “I’m too old for this,” and made a grab anyway. It turned into a ridiculous wrestling match under the spray—slipping, elbows, Eddie pinning Buck against the glass only for Buck to wiggle free with a triumphant laugh.

 

By the time Eddie finally got the soap back, both of them were breathless and the shower mat looked like a war zone.

 

Eddie gave him a look, rubbing his face.

 

Buck leaned against the tiles, grinning through water dripping down his cheeks. “Don’t look at me like that, you love me.”

 

“Against my better judgment,” Eddie muttered.

 

“Lies,” Buck sing-songed, reaching over to ruffle Eddie’s wet hair before Eddie could duck away.

 

Eddie groaned, shoving him lightly. “I swear, one of these days—”

 

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll kick me out.” Buck laughed, stealing a quick kiss before Eddie could follow through on the threat. “But until then, you’re stuck with me. Clicker and all.”

 

Eddie shook his head, but he was smiling, warmth curling low in his chest despite himself. He pressed another peck against Buck’s mouth.

 

They eventually managed to finish the shower without breaking a hip—or the glass—and stumbled out dripping, towels slung around their waists.

 

Buck immediately launched into a monologue as he toweled his hair. “You know, the average shower uses about seventeen gallons of water. Seventeen! That’s like…a whole kiddie pool. We just filled a kiddie pool and stood in it. Twice.”

 

Eddie rubbed the towel over his chest, deadpan. “Fascinating.”

 

“And, get this—showers account for almost thirty percent of household water usage. Thirty! That’s huge. Imagine if we showered together all the time, think of the water we’d—”

 

“Waste,” Eddie cut in, smirking.

 

Buck paused, then pointed at him with the towel. “Save. I was gonna say save.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Eddie opened his closet to grab some clothes, lips twitching.

 

But Buck was unstoppable now, pacing toward the bedroom. “And apparently, the longest shower ever taken was like… three hundred and forty-one hours. That’s—hold on—fourteen days straight. Can you imagine? Fourteen days in the shower, wrinkly as a raisin—”

 

“You’re already a raisin,” Eddie muttered, pulling on clean sweats.

 

Buck gasped dramatically. “Rude. I’m a grape. Firm, juicy, full of life.”

 

Eddie snorted, shaking his head.

 

“Yeah, laugh all you want,” Buck said with a grin, diving into the bed. “You love me anyway.”

 

Eddie flicked off the light and crawled in beside him. Buck was still talking about some statistic on showerheads when Eddie finally pressed his cheek to Buck’s chest.

 

“Okay, enough talking.” Eddie’s voice was low, but the smile tugging at his mouth softened it. “Let’s sleep for a few hours and then wake up and have good sex before Chris gets home from school.”

 

Buck froze mid-ramble, blinking at him in the dark. “Wait—did you just schedule sex?”

 

Eddie groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Buck—”

 

“Because, not complaining, but that’s…kind of hot. Like, very organized. Responsible.” Buck’s grin was audible. “God, I love you.”

 

“Go to sleep,” Eddie muttered, shoving at his shoulder. “Love you too,” he added semi reluctantly.

 

Buck snickered, curling in closer instead. “Fine, fine. But just so you know, I’m setting an alarm.”

 

Eddie huffed a laugh, the last thing he managed before exhaustion won and pulled him under, tangled up with Buck’s warmth, his boyfriend still smiling in the dark.

 

*

 

The room didn’t look like anything special. Beige walls, stackable chairs in a loose circle, a coffee pot that had probably been there since the ’90s. Eddie had been in worse places, but the fact that he was here at all made his skin itch.

 

He’d taken a seat that gave him a view of the door and the windows, back straight, hands folded in his lap like he was reporting for inspection. A couple of other people filtered in—regular clothes, tired faces. A woman with a worn leather jacket and wary eyes. A guy in a polo shirt who looked like he hadn’t slept in days. A teenager who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, earbuds in until the last possible second.

 

Eddie didn’t belong here. That thought beat like a drum in his head.

 

Except, he did.

 

He had promised Bobby he’d do anything to get back to work.

 

“Alright, let’s get started,” the facilitator said, settling into his own chair. He was older, gray beard, glasses slipping down his nose. His voice was calm but firm, the way Bobby’s could be. “I’m Dr. Hersch. This is anger management group therapy. You’re all here for different reasons, but the one thing you have in common is that somewhere in your life you reached a point where your anger got the better of you.”

 

Eddie felt looked at, even though no one really paid him attention. It was like everyone already knew. Like words were stamped across his forehead: Firefighter who lost control.

 

His jaw ached from how tight he was holding it.

 

“Why don’t we go around, introduce ourselves? You don’t have to share details if you don’t want to. Just your name, and maybe what brought you here.”

 

The introductions went clockwise. The woman in the leather jacket muttered about a bar fight. The polo guy said something about snapping at his boss and “HR didn’t find it funny”. The teenager just said his name and shrugged.

 

Then it was Eddie’s turn.

 

He cleared his throat, staring at a scuff on the linoleum. “Eddie Diaz. I’m…a firefighter.” A pause. His palms felt damp. “I, uh—I got into a fight. Off-duty. With another firefighter.”

 

That got a ripple of interest, heads turning just slightly. Eddie kept his eyes forward, shoulders squared.

 

Dr. Hersch gave a small nod, nothing judgmental. “Thank you, Eddie.”

 

The group moved on, but Eddie’s pulse was still hammering.

 

When the circle finally came back to the facilitator, Dr. Hersch leaned forward, folding his hands. “Anger isn’t just yelling or throwing punches. Sometimes it’s the silence you keep, the way you bottle it up until it explodes. Sometimes it’s telling yourself you’re fine when you’re not. What we’re going to work on here is noticing the warning signs before you reach that point. And I’ll tell you now: it’s not easy. But it is possible.”

 

Eddie exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to let the words land. He could already hear Buck’s voice in his head, teasing: Come on, Eds, give it a chance before you pull that face. But the thing was, this wasn’t funny. He had lost control. And even if punching Tommy felt very justified, still did, it wasn’t the man he wanted to be. Not for Buck. Not for Christopher.

 

So Eddie sat up a little straighter, forced himself to unclench his fists, and listened. Because if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right.

 

“Alright,” Dr. Hersch said after the introductions wrapped. “We’re going to start with a simple exercise. I want each of you to think about the last time you felt your anger take control. Don’t worry about judgment, we’re not here for that. We’re here to notice patterns.”

 

A groan came from the teenager, slouched so far in his chair he was practically horizontal. “You mean, like, when my mom took my Xbox away?”

 

There were a few chuckles, even a smirk from the woman in the leather jacket. Dr. Hersch smiled, unruffled. “That’s exactly what I mean. It doesn’t have to be big. Just…honest.”

 

Eddie stared at the floor. His turn was coming again, and already he could feel the heaviness in his chest.

 

The polo guy went first. He admitted to screaming at his boss when his request for a week off was denied. The leather jacket woman said she’d gone to the bar “to blow off steam” after a breakup and ended up in a fistfight with someone who bumped her drink. The teen muttered something about his mom “being unfair” and rolled his eyes.

 

Then Dr. Hersch’s gaze landed on Eddie.

 

His mouth was dry. “I…uh. There was a situation.” He heard how stiff it sounded, but he pushed on. “This guy, he’d been giving my partner a hard time. Pushing buttons. Making comments. I let it go. For a long time. Until one night, I didn’t. And I hit him.”

 

No one laughed. No one teased. Just silence, the weight of people listening.

 

Eddie’s fingers dug into his knee. “I don’t usually… I’m not that guy. But he—he knew what he was doing.” His voice faltered. He hated that it faltered. “And I snapped.”

 

Why did he keep talking?

 

“It’s not like I go around punching people,” Eddie added quickly, as if to balance the scales. “I’ve had worse things said to me before. I’ve walked away. I’ve ignored it. But this time…” He trailed off, jaw clenching. “This time was different.”

 

The leather jacket woman tilted her head, eyeing him. “Different how?”

 

Eddie swallowed, throat tight. “Because it wasn’t just about me.” He could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck, but the words were out now. “It was about…someone I care about. And I lost it.”

 

A quiet fell over the group. No one pressed.

 

Dr. Hersch leaned forward slightly. “That’s an important insight. Often, anger isn’t about the insult itself, it’s about what the insult touches inside of us. What it threatens. What we feel we have to protect.” His gaze stayed steady on Eddie. “That’s what we’ll work on here. Finding the line between standing up for what matters, and losing yourself in the fight.”

 

Eddie’s chest felt tight, too full. He gave a stiff nod and sat back, as if retreating into the chair would make the conversation fade.

 

But it didn’t.

 

The group moved on, and Eddie sat in silence, listening, the words echoing inside him. What we feel we have to protect.

 

Of course Buck was in the parking lot when Eddie came out. He’d recognize that Jeep anywhere. For a second, the tightness in his chest loosened, until movement flickered at his side. The woman in the leather jacket slid into the space beside him like she’d been waiting.

 

“Hey,” she greeted, flicking a lighter and offering him a cigarette.

 

Eddie shook his head. “No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

 

She smirked knowingly. “Right. Firefighter and all that.” She tucked the cigarette between her lips anyway, but kept it lowered. “Bother you if I light up?”

 

Eddie shook his head again. “No, it’s fine.” His eyes drifted, unbidden, across the lot to where Buck sat in the Jeep, head bent over his phone, probably lost in some rabbit hole about…showers, or space travel, or whales. Whatever it was, Eddie could already hear the ramble waiting for him. The thought pulled at his mouth in the faintest smile.

 

Turning back to the woman, he cleared his throat. “Sorry—I, uh. I never caught your name in there.”

 

She grinned like she’d been waiting for that. “I know. You didn’t catch anyone’s name, did you?”

 

Heat crawled up Eddie’s neck. “Not really, no.”

 

“Well, I’m Talia,” she said, offering her hand. When he shook it, her fingers lingered just long enough to make the gesture feel more personal than polite. “Now you’ll remember.”

 

“I’ll remember,” Eddie echoed, though his voice was more earnest than hers.

 

Her smile widened, cigarette bobbing at the corner of her mouth. “Good. Because I’d be offended if you forgot twice.” She tilted her head, appraising him. “So…Eddie the Firefighter. You always that intense in group, or was that just for us today?”

 

He huffed a small laugh, caught between deflecting and answering honestly. “I don’t know. Guess it depends on the day.”

 

Talia arched a brow, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “So, Tuesdays are your intense days?”

 

“Apparently,” he said dryly, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him with the faintest smile.

 

She blew out a breath, not lighting the cigarette yet, just spinning it between her fingers. “Well, makes sense. You’ve got that whole quiet, brooding thing down. Bet people don’t argue with you much.”

 

“You’d be surprised,” Eddie muttered. His gaze flicked toward the Jeep again, unthinking. Buck was still hunched over his phone, oblivious.

 

Talia caught the look and smirked. “Ah. Someone waiting on you?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “My—uh. My partner.” He winced the second it slipped out, because it wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t what Buck was to him. Not anymore. And it sometimes still felt surreal to say that. Out loud. To actual people.

 

She tilted her head, amused. “Partner-partner, or partner like…work buddy?”

 

Eddie’s ears warmed. “My boyfriend.”

 

“Mhm.” She didn’t press, just tucked the cigarette behind her ear. “Well, whatever kind of partner he is, hope he’s patient. ‘Cause you don’t seem like the easiest guy to wait for.”

 

That pulled a real laugh out of him, low and short. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

 

“Thought so,” she said, flashing a grin. Then, softer: “You know, you don’t have to be all closed-off in there. Everyone’s got their reasons for showing up, Eddie. No one’s judging you for yours.”

 

His chest tightened at that, words sticking in his throat. He managed a quiet, “Thanks.”

 

Talia shrugged, casual as anything, but her eyes stayed sharp. “Just…remember my name next time, okay? I’ll test you.”

 

Eddie shook his head, lips tugging into another reluctant smile. “I’ll remember.”

 

“Good.” She leaned back against her car, smirk firmly in place. “I like a man who keeps his word.”

 

“Eddie.”

 

Buck’s voice cut through the air, closer than Eddie expected. He turned, startled, to see him standing just behind, phone tucked into his back pocket now, blue eyes narrowed slightly. Buck’s smile was easy enough, but it carried an edge, something unreadable, like he’d just walked into a conversation that wasn’t his but sure as hell mattered to him.

 

“Guess that’s my cue.” She gave Eddie one last grin, all teeth and mischief. “See you next week, Eddie.” Then, with a wink, she was gone, sliding into her car with the door slamming shut.

 

Eddie barely had time to draw a breath before Buck was in his space, one warm hand curling at the back of his neck, the other braced against his hip.

 

And then Buck kissed him.

 

Not the soft, lingering kind Eddie was used to, but hot and hard, lips parting his with an urgency that stole thought clean out of his head. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a statement, stamped across him in front of the half-empty lot, in front of anyone who cared to look.

 

By the time Buck pulled back, Eddie’s pulse was thundering and his knees felt dangerously unsteady.

 

“What—” Eddie started, dazed.

 

Buck only smiled, quick and triumphant, like he’d scored a win Eddie hadn’t known they were playing for. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

 

Still reeling, Eddie let himself be steered toward the Jeep, the ghost of Buck’s mouth still buzzing against his own. They slid in, doors slamming, and Buck started the engine like nothing had just happened. Eddie wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or demand answers, but before he could pick, Buck leaned his arm on the steering wheel, driving off, voice casual in that way that wasn’t casual at all.

 

“So.” Buck glanced sideways, then back at the road. “Therapy, huh?”

 

Eddie smothered a groan, dragging a hand over his face. “Here we go.”

 

“I’m just asking… What’s it like? You talk? You listen? Do you sit in a circle? Do they make you wear name tags? You didn’t mention name tags.”

 

“There weren’t name tags.”

 

“Ah.” Buck nodded, then shot him another look. “But there were names. People introduced themselves, right?”

 

Eddie turned his head, squinting. “You really gonna do this?”

 

“Do what?” Buck asked, all wide-eyed innocence.

 

Eddie snorted. “You know exactly what. You want to know who she was.”

 

“Who who was?” Buck countered, way too fast. “I don’t even—”

 

“Buck.” Eddie let his voice drop, firm.

 

Buck’s jaw flexed, grip tightening on the steering wheel as he muttered, “Leather jacket lady.”

 

Eddie blinked. “Leather—” He broke off, shaking his head. “You mean Talia?”

 

“Oh, she has a name,” Buck said, a little too brightly. “Good. Great. Talia.” He rolled the name around like it was something bitter. “Friendly, was she?”

 

“She was…being polite,” Eddie said carefully, though amusement tugged at his mouth.

 

“Polite,” Buck repeated, deadpan. “Right. With her cigarette and her smile and her leaning against cars like she’s in a commercial.”

 

Eddie bit back a laugh, turning his face toward the window so Buck wouldn’t see the grin he couldn’t suppress. “You done?”

 

“Not even close,” Buck muttered. “But we’ve got, what—fifteen minutes till your place? I can make that work.”

 

Eddie groaned again, but it was useless. Buck was already off, launching into a barrage of questions—about group, about therapy, about whether Eddie remembered anyone else’s name besides Talia—none of it subtle, all of it so transparently tangled up in the kiss still burning between them. And God help him, Eddie found himself smiling the whole way home.

 

By the time Buck pulled into Eddie’s driveway, Eddie’s cheeks hurt from holding back laughter. He hadn’t seen Buck this transparently wound up in a long time. It was almost endearing. Almost.

 

They climbed out of the Jeep, and before Buck could wind himself up for round two of Questions Buck Thinks Are Subtle, Eddie cut him off.

 

“You know I’m gay, right?”

 

Buck froze halfway up the walk, squinting at him like he was trying to figure out if Eddie was joking.

 

“Uh. Yeah?” Buck finally said, a little defensive.

 

“Then what’s with the interrogation?” Eddie asked, pushing the front door open.

 

Buck followed him inside, shutting the door. “Well, does she know that?”

 

Eddie dropped his keys in the dish on the counter, turning to look at him. “What difference does it make?”

 

“It makes a difference,” Buck shot back, shrugging off his jacket but not moving further into the house, like his body was too full of restless energy to settle. “She was…you know.” He gestured vaguely. “Smiling. Leaning. Hanging around.”

 

“That’s not a crime,” Eddie said evenly, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

 

Buck stepped closer, blue eyes locked on his, that triumphant smile from the parking lot gone now, replaced by something sharper. “You didn’t see the way she was looking at you.”

 

Eddie huffed a laugh. “I saw it. I just didn’t care.”

 

That should’ve settled it. It didn’t. Buck was close enough now that Eddie could feel the heat rolling off him, that restless energy sharpening into something else—something heavier.

 

“Good,” Buck murmured, his voice lower, rougher. His hand found Eddie’s hip like it belonged there, fingers flexing against his shirt. “Because she doesn’t get to look at you like that. Not when you’re—” He cut himself off, jaw tight.

 

Eddie swallowed. “Not when I’m what?”

 

Buck’s gaze flicked down to his mouth, then back up again, possessive and unguarded in a way Eddie had only caught glimpses of before. “Not when you’re mine.”

 

The words landed like a spark in Eddie’s chest, lighting up all the places that kiss in the parking lot had already set smoldering.

 

“Buck,” he warned, but it came out softer than he meant it to.

 

Buck just leaned in, thumb brushing under Eddie’s jaw, daring him to argue. His hand tightened on Eddie’s hip, pulling him closer until there wasn’t any space left to argue. Eddie opened his mouth to say something, he wasn’t even sure what, but Buck kissed him instead.

 

Not like in the parking lot. That kiss had been fast, reckless, all show. This one was slower at first, then broke wide open when Eddie’s hand fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him in hard.

 

Buck made a sound against his mouth, low and hungry, and Eddie felt it all the way down his spine.

 

The back of his legs hit the couch before he realized they’d even moved, Buck crowding into his space like he was staking a claim. Eddie’s pulse thudded in his ears as Buck kissed him again, deeper, teeth dragging over his bottom lip until Eddie groaned into it.

 

“Buck—” Eddie shivered, heat flaring in his chest at the edge in his own voice. He tilted his head back without meaning to, giving Buck more room to claim his neck, and felt Buck’s answering smile against his skin.

 

“Everyone needs to know,” Buck said between kisses, words tumbling out with that same raw urgency, “you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

 

Eddie’s laugh came out rough, breathless. “You sound crazy.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Buck growled, tugging at his shirt until his hand slid underneath, fingers splaying against bare skin, “maybe I am. But it’s the truth.”

 

Eddie’s knees nearly gave when Buck pressed into him fully, chest to chest, lips crashing back to his with a force that stole the air from his lungs. There was nothing careful about it now, nothing held back—just Buck, relentless and sure, kissing him like he was trying to erase any trace of anyone else.

 

Buck kissed him like a storm tearing through, mouth hot and insistent, hands greedy on his skin. Eddie didn’t even remember how they got to the couch, only that Buck had him pinned there now, straddling his hips, kissing him until he could barely think straight.

 

“Buck—” Eddie tried, but it came out more like a groan when Buck rocked against him, hard and shameless.

 

“Don’t talk,” Buck muttered against his mouth, breath ragged. “Just—just let me.”

 

And Eddie did. God help him, he did. His hands slid under Buck’s shirt, palms running up the familiar planes of his back, feeling the muscles tense and shift as Buck pressed down harder, claiming, consuming. Buck kissed him again, slower this time but deeper, tongue sliding against his like he wanted to crawl inside him, like he needed proof Eddie was his.

 

Eddie’s head dropped back against the cushions with a rough sound he didn’t recognize as his own. Buck took advantage immediately, lips dragging down his throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

 

“Buck—” His voice cracked, half a plea.

 

“You’re mine,” Buck said, biting lightly at the hollow of his throat. His voice was low, raw, like it scraped its way out of him. “Say it.”

 

Heat shot through Eddie, burning away the last of his restraint. His hands gripped Buck’s hips, pulling him closer until there was no space left, nothing but heat and friction between them. “I’m yours,” he ground out, surprising himself with how desperately true it felt.

 

That lit something wild in Buck’s eyes. He kissed him hard again, messy and open, grinding down until Eddie was dizzy, half gone already. Clothes were tugged at, buttons popped loose, Eddie’s shirt shoved halfway up his chest as Buck’s mouth traced lower, like he was hellbent on leaving his mark everywhere—

 

The front door clicked.

 

“Dad!”

 

Eddie’s entire body went rigid. Buck, halfway through sucking a mark just below his belly button, froze like he’d been shot.

 

And then Chris’s voice carried again, closer this time. “I’m home!”

 

The door slammed shut and Eddie’s blood turned to ice. Of course. First thing you saw when you opened the door was the back of the couch. The couch that currently had Buck pushing him into the couch like some bad soap opera cliché.

 

Their dicks were achingly hard.

 

“Oh my god,” Eddie hissed, trying to shove Buck off him. “Get up—get up, get—”

 

Buck, completely useless, blinked at him, wide-eyed and mussed and still breathing like he’d just run a marathon. “Wait—where do I go?”

 

“Anywhere that isn’t on top of me!” Eddie whisper-yelled, frantically shoving at his chest.

 

Too late. Chris rounded the couch, and there they were: Eddie half-sprawled, shirt rumpled to hell, hair wrecked, and Buck sitting astride him, red-faced and panting like he’d just been caught committing a felony.

 

Chris froze. “...Hi.”

 

Silence.

 

Eddie wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. “Uh—”

 

“We were wrestling!” Buck blurted, far too loudly.

 

Eddie’s head whipped toward him in horror. “What?”

 

“Yeah,” Buck said, nodding like an idiot, voice cracking. “Totally just…guy wrestling. You know. Like practice. Fighting crime. Training.”

 

Chris blinked at them, unimpressed. “On the couch?”

 

“Yes!” Buck squeaked, then immediately winced at himself.

 

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

 

Chris tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You’re both really red.”

 

“We got…uh…worked up,” Buck said weakly, then immediately realized what he’d said and slapped a hand over his own mouth. “I mean—sweaty! Wrestling! Sweaty wrestling!”

 

Eddie groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Please stop talking.”

 

Chris just shrugged like he’d decided not to pursue it, tossing his backpack onto the floor. “Whatever. Can we order pizza tonight?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie muttered through his fingers. “Pizza. Anything. Please.”

 

Buck sat back finally, still straddling Eddie but trying to look casual about it, which only made it worse. His hair was sticking up in ten different directions, his shirt was twisted halfway around his torso, and his neck—oh god, his neck—was already blotched pink from Eddie’s stubble.

 

Chris looked between them once more, suspicious, then rolled his eyes like he was way too mature for whatever nonsense they were up to. “You guys are so weird.” He started toward his room, then paused mid-step, looking back with a wrinkle of disgust.

“Oh—and please don’t have sex on the couch. I sit there.”

 

Buck made a noise like he’d swallowed his own tongue. Eddie nearly choked to death on air.

 

“Christopher!” he spluttered, face on fire.

 

But Chris just shrugged again, utterly unbothered, and disappeared into his room, leaving behind the sound of his door shutting.

 

The silence that followed was deafening.

 

Eddie dropped his hands, staring at Buck, who still hadn’t moved. “Wrestling? Really?”

 

Buck winced. “I panicked.”

 

“You panicked,” Eddie repeated flatly.

 

“Yes! I panicked! What was I supposed to say?!” Buck gestured wildly, still straddling him, which only made the whole thing so much worse. “He came in and you looked like—you looked like—”

 

“Like what?” Eddie challenged, though his voice was already rougher than it should’ve been, given his shirt was half-unbuttoned and Buck’s lips were still red from kissing.

 

“Like we were definitely not wrestling!” Buck shot back, but his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile.

 

Eddie glared. “Now Chris thinks we’re—” He cut himself off, groaning, head thunking back against the couch. “God. He knows.”

 

Buck was quiet for all of two seconds before he started snickering.

 

Eddie’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t you dare—”

 

But it was too late. Buck tipped forward, forehead pressed to Eddie’s shoulder, shoulders shaking with helpless laughter.

 

“This isn’t funny,” Eddie muttered, except his lips were already betraying him, twitching against a smile he couldn’t hold back.

 

“It’s so funny,” Buck wheezed, lifting his head just enough to meet Eddie’s eyes, both of them teetering on the edge of hysterics. “We’re so bad at this.”

 

“You’re bad at this,” Eddie corrected, but the heat in his chest loosened, laughter spilling out despite himself.

 

Buck grinned at him, soft and wicked all at once, and Eddie suddenly remembered, with a sharp, dangerous tug in his gut, that Buck was still straddling his lap, that his body was warm and heavy against him, that his shirt was wrinkled where Buck’s hands had been fisted into it.

 

The laughter faltered, the air between them thickening in an instant. Neither of them moved.

 

Eddie swallowed hard. “We can’t—”

 

Buck leaned down, mouth hovering just above his. “We really shouldn’t.”

 

But then Eddie tilted up just enough that their lips brushed, and that was it. Whatever threadbare restraint they had unraveled fast.

 

Buck kissed him like he’d been waiting years, desperate, messy, all teeth and tongue and hands everywhere. Eddie groaned into it, fingers digging into Buck’s shirt, dragging him closer until there wasn’t an inch of space left.

 

It was reckless, the way Buck devoured him. Eddie’s head spun, every nerve lit up like a fire alarm. His shirt, already half undone, was hanging off his shoulder now, and Buck’s hands were skating hot across his skin.

 

They lost track of time—minutes, maybe more—caught in the kind of kiss that had no exit strategy. The world narrowed to heat and breath and the sound of Buck gasping against his mouth.

 

And then—

 

“Seriously? Again?”

 

Both of them froze.

 

Chris was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at them with the unimpressed patience of someone who’d seen it all and was already over it.

 

Eddie went stock-still, Buck still sprawled across his lap, both of them flushed and breathing hard like they’d just run a marathon.

 

“Uh,” Eddie managed, voice rough.

 

Chris raised his eyebrows. “What kind of pizza do you want?” he asked dryly, like this was a totally normal interruption. Then, after a beat: “Also—gross. Get a room.”

 

Buck scrambled like he’d been caught committing a felony, practically vaulting off Eddie’s lap and nearly tripping over the coffee table. Eddie yanked his shirt closed, ears burning so hot he thought they might combust.

 

“Chris,” Eddie started, uselessly, “we were just—”

 

“Yeah, wrestling. Sure. Whatever.” Chris waved a hand like he couldn’t possibly care less. “Pepperoni or supreme?”

 

Eddie buried his face in his hands. “Kill me now.”

 

“Pepperoni!” Buck blurted too loudly, still standing like a deer in headlights.

 

Chris sighed, shook his head, and padded back to his room. “You guys are unbelievable.”

 

The moment his door clicked shut again, the silence stretched, and then—

 

Buck whispered, horrified and amused all at once, “He’s never letting us live this down.”

 

Eddie peeked through his fingers, groaning. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

 

Buck grinned, boyish and unapologetic despite the disaster. “Hey. At least he didn’t say no pizza.”

 

That earned him a hard shove with a pillow, which only set them both off laughing again—laughter buzzing with the taste of heat still clinging to their mouths.

Chapter 31

Notes:

soooo i'm back home, unfortunately :'( missing the sun and my friends and family already

europe is giving me depression

anywayssss had to throw in some realism (looking at u baldy) but we're closer to their hea promise x

Buck exhaled hard, snapping the little velvet box shut like it had personally offended him.

 

Was he rushing this? Proposing now? What if marriage ruined them? What if living together—seeing each other morning, night, on shift, off shift—stripped away everything good until all they had left was resentment? What if they suffocated under the weight of each other’s presence, until love turned sour and familiar smiles turned into tired sighs?

 

And that was assuming Eddie even said yes.

 

What if Eddie said yes and regretted it the next day? Or down the road? Got tired of him? Of his chaos, his mistakes, his ramblings, his… Buck-ness. Then Eddie would leave, obviously. Which meant divorce papers. And looking for a new house. Maybe even quitting the 118 just to escape the wreckage. Didn’t matter that Buck had been there longer. Eddie leaving meant no more Christopher, no more movie nights, no more laughter at the station parties. And if Buck was invited, he’d just be the awkward reminder of what used to be.

 

“Jesus.”

 

Buck shoved the box back into the drawer and slammed it shut, like that could trap all the what-ifs rattling in his head.

 

“Buck!” Chimney’s voice boomed from downstairs. “Your sister’s being mean to me!”

 

Buck rolled his eyes. “You probably deserve it!”

 

Maddie’s laugh floated up, followed by something about Buckley siblings being untouchable.

 

And just like that, the heavy storm cloud over his head thinned. He pushed away the spiraling dread, got to his feet, and jogged down the stairs toward his family.

 

The scent of chicken casserole drifted through the loft, warm and homey. Buck tugged open the oven door, checking the bubbling cheese on top. Still needed a few more minutes. He leaned against the counter, watching the small, cozy chaos of his family.

 

Jee was curled up on the armchair, napping with her thumb in her mouth, a blanket sliding halfway to the floor. Maddie sat on the couch with her feet propped on a pillow, her belly unmistakably visible now, her hands absentmindedly resting there. Chim sat beside her, sulking like a scolded kid.

 

“Where’s Eddie?” Chim asked suddenly, looking up like the thought had just hit him. “Because he’d be on my side.”

 

Buck snorted. “About what? Whatever Maddie’s roasting you for? Yeah, doubtful.”

 

“Excuse me,” Chim said indignantly, “Eddie likes me.”

 

“Eddie tolerates you,” Maddie said sweetly, then added with a grin, “barely.”

 

Chim muttered something under his breath, but Buck only shrugged, trying for casual. “He’s not here. Busy.”

 

Maddie tilted her head, catching the crack in his tone. “Busy how? You guys okay?”

 

Buck shifted, suddenly finding the casserole timer intensely interesting. “We’re fine. I mean… mostly fine.”

 

“Mostly fine,” Maddie echoed, her mom-voice kicking in. “Buck.”

 

He blew out a breath. “I don’t know, he’s just been… weird lately. Distant. Always got an excuse. ‘Oh, I’ve got anger management,’ or ‘I’ve gotta help a neighbor,’ or—whatever. He doesn’t even know his neighbors. He’s too antisocial.” He waved a hand. “Feels like he’s somewhere else even when he’s standing right next to me.”

 

Chim frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Eddie.”

 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Buck muttered, running a hand down his face. “I keep wondering if I screwed something up. If I did that thing where I’m just… too much. Again.”

 

Maddie leaned forward as much as her belly allowed, her voice soft. “Or maybe, Buck, he’s just dealing with something he hasn’t told you yet. It doesn’t have to mean it’s about you.”

 

Buck gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but when has it not been about me?”

 

Before Maddie could answer, the oven timer dinged. Buck jumped at the sound, yanking the casserole out maybe a little too forcefully. The smell filled his loft, warm and comforting again, but the tight knot in his chest didn’t ease.

 

He set the dish down, trying to pretend he wasn’t unraveling just a little.

 

Maddie gave Chim a pointed look, and he grumbled but got up to gently wake Jee. Then, Maddie made her way over to Buck, giving him a look as well.

 

“Talk to him about it,” she said. “Just tell him you noticed he’s a bit absent. Maybe you can offer to help with something. Maybe he’s in his head about all of this, and it isn’t about you.”

 

Buck let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he set down glasses. “Yeah, except every time I try to have a serious conversation, he shuts me down with, ‘I’ve got anger management,’ or ‘it’s nothing.’ And then he’s out the door.” He sighed. “It’s hard to talk to someone who keeps dodging.”

 

Maddie placed a hand on his arm, gentle but firm. “You’re not a burden, Evan. You’re allowed to ask for clarity. You deserve to.”

 

Chim reappeared, Jee half-asleep against his shoulder, her blanket trailing. “Or,” Chim offered, lowering her into her chair, “you wait until he slips up. Catch him in the act of whatever he’s really up to. That’s how I figured out Maddie was pregnant before she told me.”

 

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Because I threw up in your car.”

 

“Details,” Chim said smugly, scooping casserole onto Jee’s plate. “Point is, secrets don’t stay secrets for long.”

 

Jee perked up at the smell of food, blinking awake. “Uncle Buck, can I get the cheesy part?”

 

Buck smiled despite himself, handing her the spoon. “Knock yourself out, kiddo.”

 

As Jee dug in, Maddie leaned a little closer. “You love him, right?”

 

“Of course I do,” Buck said instantly. His chest tightened. “That’s the problem. If he’s pulling away…”

 

Maddie shook her head. “If he’s pulling away, it might not be from you. Don’t decide the ending before you’ve even had the conversation.”

 

Buck pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. He wasn’t convinced, but for now—between Jee’s chatter, Chim’s sarcastic running commentary, and Maddie’s steady presence—he let himself breathe.

 

Dinner carried on in the soft, ordinary way Buck loved most. But somewhere under it all, the thought lingered like a whisper he couldn’t shake: what if Maddie’s wrong this time?

 

*

 

The sun was still clinging stubbornly to the sky, the heat rising off the pavement in waves. Buck leaned against the Jeep, arms folded tight across his chest, eyes fixed on the community center doors like he could burn them down with sheer will. When they finally swung open, Eddie walked out—with her.

 

Talia. Always in that damn leather jacket, like the laws of temperature didn’t apply to her. She laughed at something Eddie said, head tipping back, fingers brushing his arm in that casual, intimate way that made Buck’s stomach twist. His jaw locked. She’d done it before. She’d do it again. And Eddie, oblivious as ever, never seemed to notice.

 

And Buck hated that it mattered. Hated that it lodged itself in his chest, sharp and insistent. He didn’t want to ruin this… friendship they were building. Eddie spoke of her fondly and Buck was just being jealous. He knew that. But it was fucking with his head. Especially now. Now that Eddie wasn’t himself.

 

Because that first time, Buck’s jealousy had been simple, stupid even. He’d been scared she was making a pass at his boyfriend. But this… this was so much worse. It was as if she occupied the space Buck thought was his—Eddie confiding in her, while he was shut out of the things that mattered most.

 

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice broke through the noise in his head, warm and familiar. His face lit up in that way it always did, and damn it, it still worked, still melted something deep inside Buck despite the irritation simmering there.

 

“Hey,” Buck said, opening the passenger side door for him. His smile was polite but thin when Talia gave him a look that lingered a little too long.

 

“See you next week, Eddie,” she said, brushing invisible lint off her jacket sleeve like she expected him to notice.

 

“Yeah. Take care, Talia.” Eddie slid into the seat, oblivious.

 

Buck shut the door harder than necessary before circling to the driver’s side.

 

They pulled onto the street in silence, the hum of the engine filling the space between them. Buck’s fingers tapped restlessly against the steering wheel. “So,” he said casually, “how was therapy?”

 

“Good,” Eddie replied simply, staring out the window.

 

“Good how?” Buck pressed. “Like, ‘good, I worked through something’ good, or ‘good, let’s not talk about it’ good?”

 

Eddie smirked faintly. “Second one.”

 

Buck shot him a look. “You’ve been… distracted lately.”

 

Eddie’s smirk faded. He turned to him. “Distracted?”

 

“Yeah.” Buck kept his eyes on the road, but his voice was softer now. “You’re… somewhere else these days. You skip out early, disappear, dodge questions. I just…” He swallowed. “I just wanna know where your head’s at, Eddie. If it’s something I should worry about.”

 

Eddie was quiet for a long moment, the sound of traffic filling the space. Finally, he said, “You don’t need to worry.”

 

“That’s not an answer,” Buck said, his chest tightening. “You know me, I always worry.”

 

Eddie’s lips twitched, but he didn’t laugh. “I know. But I promise, Buck. It’s nothing bad. I just… I need a little time. Okay?”

 

Buck glanced at him, searching his face for cracks, for something Eddie wasn’t saying. All he found was that maddening calm.

 

“I just… Did I…  do something?” he asked instead. The question slipped out before he could stop it.

 

Eddie frowned at him. “Why would you think that?”

 

“I don’t know.” Buck raked a hand through his hair, eyes flicking back to the road. He switched from lane. “I make a lot of things about me. I know that. But it feels like you’re pulling away from me. And I keep wondering… are we moving too fast? Is there something you’re not comfortable with? Do you need something from me? Can I—”

 

“Buck.” Eddie’s voice cut him off, soft but firm. His hand reached over, fingertips brushing along Buck’s forearm, grounding him. “We are definitely not moving too fast. I’m happy, truly happy. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. I love you. I love Chris. You don’t have to worry.”

 

Buck exhaled sharply. “But you admit you’re not yourself?”

 

Eddie hummed. “Just busy with this anger management thing,” he replied. “It’s almost over. Hersch is very good at what he does and Talia helps me a lot too.”

 

Buck drummed his fingers on the steer, braking at a red light. He looked over at Eddie, who was smiling softly at him. And all Buck could think was, Fuck, you’re beautiful. Instinctively, his hand grabbed the nape of Eddie’s neck, pulling him close, stealing a kiss that left no room for doubt.

 

“Just give me some time, okay?” Eddie whispered against his lips. “I’ll be the old me in no time.”

 

“Okay,” Buck said at last, though the word sat heavy in his throat.

 

A blaring honk shattered the moment, jolting them apart. Buck muttered a curse, shifting back into gear, the tires humming as the Jeep rolled further down the road.

 

“Anyways,” Eddie said, as if nothing had happened, his tone gentle but probing. “How’s it going with Frank? You’ve been going home a lot after therapy lately.”

 

Buck’s tongue darted across his lips, teeth catching his bottom lip like he could bite back the truth. “It’s been… exhausting.”

 

Eddie hummed knowingly. “I’ve done EMDR a few times. I get it.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“So?” Eddie pressed, turning slightly toward him. “How is it?”

 

Buck shrugged, eyes fixed firmly on the street ahead. “A lot, I guess. Apparently, I’ve got more trauma than I thought.” He let out a weak laugh, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tell that betrayed him. The Jeep slowed as he pulled onto his block.

 

“Buck,” Eddie said, a warning threaded through the single word.

 

Buck winced. “Right. I know. Sorry.”

 

He parked at the curb in front of his building, cutting the engine. The silence lingered a beat too long before they both climbed out. Eddie’s hand found his without hesitation, their fingers lacing together as they made their way up to Buck’s loft.

 

Inside, Buck shut the door with a quiet click. He leaned against it for a second, then exhaled sharply, words spilling out before Eddie could ask again.

 

“It’s just… a lot,” he admitted, voice rough. “Different moments I’ve tried to bury—he makes me sit with them. Pick them apart. And afterward, I come home and crash. I don’t even know what to say about it. Or how to… be.”

 

He pushed off the door, restless, crossing the room in long strides. His hands twitched uselessly until he yanked open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water like it was a shield. He twisted the cap off with unnecessary force, taking a long swallow, anything to avoid Eddie’s eyes.

 

Buck twisted the cap back onto the bottle, setting it on the counter. He braced both hands against the cool surface, shoulders tight, gaze fixed on some invisible spot.

 

“You don’t have to stand over there like I’m about to interrogate you,” Eddie said softly from across the loft. His voice carried no edge, just calm, steady warmth.

 

Buck huffed, not turning. “Feels like one sometimes.”

 

Eddie stepped closer, slow, giving him room. “It’s not. I’m just asking. Because I want to know where you’re at.”

 

Silence stretched, thick enough to make Buck’s chest ache. He dragged a hand down his face. “It’s… ugly, Eds. Frank makes me go back to things I thought I’d buried. Stuff I don’t want you to see.” His voice faltered, almost a whisper. “I don’t even want to see it.”

 

Eddie’s hand came to rest on the counter beside his, not forcing contact but close enough that Buck could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You don’t have to show me everything,” Eddie said gently. “But don’t shut me out, either. Let me carry a little of it with you.”

 

Buck finally glanced sideways, his eyes tired, guarded. “What if it’s too much?”

 

“It won’t be,” Eddie said, simple, certain. “Not for me. Not when it’s you.”

 

Buck’s throat worked, his defenses cracking at the edges. He looked down at their hands, the way Eddie’s knuckles brushed just barely against his.

 

“I… hate how it all sticks,” Buck admitted at last, voice raw. “Like no matter how far I’ve come, it’s still there. Waiting.”

 

Eddie tilted his head, searching his face. “And you think that makes you weak?”

 

Buck’s laugh was humorless. “Doesn’t exactly scream well-adjusted, does it?”

 

Eddie finally closed the distance, his fingers sliding over Buck’s hand, squeezing once—firm, grounding. “It screams human. Stronger than most. Because you face it anyway.”

 

For a long moment, Buck just stood there, letting the words settle. His chest rose and fell unevenly, but his grip tightened around Eddie’s hand like he was finally letting himself believe it.

 

“I’m trying,” he whispered.

 

“I know,” Eddie said. “And I’m right here while you do. Just like you are for me.”

 

Buck nodded once, a small, shaky smile tugging at his lips. He swallowed, the knot in his throat refusing to loosen. He turned, finally meeting Eddie’s eyes—those steady, grounding eyes that always seemed to see more of him than he wanted to give away. And suddenly, words weren’t enough. Couldn’t be.

 

His hand lifted almost on its own, fingers brushing against Eddie’s jaw before sliding back to the warm skin at the nape of his neck. For a moment, Buck just stayed there, thumb tracing the fine hairs, as if asking permission without speaking.

 

Then he leaned in.

 

The kiss was soft, almost hesitant, lips pressing together with a kind of fragile reverence. It wasn’t about heat. It was about relief, about needing Eddie close enough to quiet the storm in his chest. When Buck pulled back just an inch, his breath caught.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered, the words fraying at the edges, his forehead resting against Eddie’s.

 

Eddie’s lips curved into the gentlest of smiles, eyes half-lidded but burning with something steady. His voice was a quiet exhale. “Thank you.” And before Buck could even breathe, Eddie kissed him again—unhurried, tender, like a vow.

 

That kiss stretched, deepened. What began as soft reassurance slowly shifted, melting into something Buck hadn’t realized he was aching for. Eddie’s lips parted under his, and Buck followed instinctively, letting himself sink into it, into him.

 

Time blurred. The kisses multiplied, one spilling into another. Soft, then lingering, then hungrier. Buck’s fingers threaded into Eddie’s hair, tugging him closer, while Eddie’s hand skimmed along Buck’s side, anchoring him like he might float away if he didn’t hold on.

 

And Buck let himself be anchored. Let himself need. For once, it didn’t feel like weakness.

 

And then he felt it. The unmistakable press of Eddie’s hard cock against his hip, faint at first, then undeniable as their bodies shifted closer.

 

Buck froze for half a beat, his breath stuttering. Eddie must have felt it too, because he pulled back slightly, his cheeks flushed, his gaze darting down and then away with a sheepish laugh.

 

“Sorry,” Eddie murmured, his voice rougher now, pitched low. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, clearly flustered despite the calm he wore so well. “You can just… ignore that.” He looked almost younger in that moment—unguarded, uncertain in a way Buck rarely saw.

 

Buck blinked at him, lips still tingling from their kisses. Eddie’s flustered apology hung in the air between them, raw and almost endearing.

 

Buck’s mouth curved into a faint smile. He leaned back in, brushing a kiss against the corner of Eddie’s mouth, lingering there before whispering, “I don’t want to ignore it.”

 

Eddie stilled, eyes flicking to his, searching.

 

Buck’s hand slid from Eddie’s nape down to his chest, resting flat over his heartbeat. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” His voice was soft, almost tentative, but charged.

 

Eddie let out a low, unsteady laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Yeah,” he admitted, eyes warm, almost shy. “Longer than I meant for it to be.”

 

“Me too,” Buck breathed. His thumb traced slow circles against Eddie’s chest.

 

For a moment, Eddie just looked at him, like he was memorizing every line of his face. Then he tilted his face up, catching Buck’s mouth in a kiss that was less soft now and more certain, more hungry. Buck answered without hesitation, deepening it, pressing closer until Eddie’s hand gripped his hip like he needed the anchor this time.

 

The world narrowed to heat and breath and the familiar, grounding weight of Eddie’s body against his. Buck broke the kiss only to murmur against his lips, “Upstairs?”

 

Eddie’s answering nod was small but sure, his forehead pressed to Buck’s. “Yeah.”

 

They didn’t rush. Fingers still twined together, Buck led him toward the stairs, stealing kisses along the way, quick, greedy ones between steps. Eddie’s laugh rumbled low in his throat when Buck tugged him back for just one more.

 

By the time they reached the bedroom, the kisses had gone from tentative to hungry again, their bodies pulling together like magnets that had been forced apart for far too long. Buck backed into the room, tugging Eddie with him.

 

When they finally broke apart, Buck’s breath came in ragged, uneven bursts. He pressed his forehead to Eddie’s, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt like letting go might make his next words vanish, like letting go might shatter everything he’d built up in himself to survive.

 

“Eds…” His voice cracked, small and raw, the sound carrying a weight he hadn’t let anyone hear in years.

 

Eddie’s hand brushed along his jaw, thumb grazing his cheekbone with infinite care. “Yeah, mi vida?”

 

Buck swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs, each beat a reminder of every memory he had tried to shove deep into the corners of his mind—every sharp, humiliating echo from before, every flicker of fear he had fought so hard to forget. Every instinct screamed at him to pull back, to retreat into what was safe, what was familiar.

 

But he didn’t.

 

He couldn’t. Not with Eddie.

 

He wanted this.

 

His throat tightened, raw from unspoken words and the weight of trust he hadn’t thought he could give. “I want you to…” The words nearly died on his lips, his nerves twisting around them like barbed wire. He swallowed again, forcing himself to push forward. “I want you to do what you want tonight.”

 

Eddie blinked, frozen, his expression shifting between confusion, then dawning understanding, then something softer, almost reverent. His breath hitched, eyes shining, a tenderness so intense it made Buck’s chest ache.

 

“Buck…” Eddie’s voice was low, a warning and a plea all at once, as if he knew the courage it took to say those words, as if he wanted to let him down slowly.

 

Buck’s lips twitched, somewhere between a smile and a grimace. He laughed shakily, rubbing the back of his neck as if to steady himself. “I know what it means. I know what I’m saying.” His eyes lifted, locking with Eddie’s, raw, steady, full of the trust he had fought a lifetime to give. “I trust you. I’ve never trusted anyone like this before. And I don’t want… I don’t want what happened before to be the last time. Not when it’s with you.”

 

Eddie’s thumb stilled against his cheek, his entire body frozen as if he could barely breathe, not wanting to disturb the fragile, breathtaking offering in front of him. His eyes glimmered with something fierce, unspoken—a mixture of reverence, love, and awe.

 

“You’re sure?” His voice was soft, careful, giving Buck every possible out, every escape hatch.

 

Buck nodded, a small, firm movement, the tremor in his chest slowly unspooling into something lighter. “I’m sure.” His exhale was shaky but determined. “I want it to be you. I want it to be us.”

 

For a long, suspended moment, Eddie just looked at him, memorizing the way Buck held himself, the raw vulnerability he had offered, the trust that shimmered in his eyes. It was almost too much—too sacred—to touch.

 

Then Eddie leaned in, closing the distance with a kiss so tender it nearly undid him entirely. Every hesitation, every fear, every shadow from his past seemed to melt beneath the certainty in Eddie’s touch.

 

“I won’t hurt you,” Eddie whispered against his lips, voice low and reverent. “Not ever.”

 

“I know,” Buck murmured back, his voice breaking just slightly, but this time not from fear. It was from relief, from release, from the dizzying weight of giving himself over completely.

 

Eddie discarded their clothes with effortless speed, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Buck watched him, chest tightening. He knew Eddie had been waiting for this moment, and the thought that he could finally give it to him made his heart hammer.

 

Eddie pushed him back on the mattress. Buck’s chest heaved as Eddie kissed him, soft at first, reverent, teasing out every tremor and hesitation in him. When Eddie trailed down his jaw and neck, Buck shivered, gripping the sheets beneath him.

 

His mind spun. This was unfamiliar, overwhelming in a way that made his stomach twist with nerves. It felt… different. Control had always been his. Always. And now… now he wasn’t in charge. Not tonight.

 

Eddie’s mouth latched onto his nipple, lips warm and teasing, while his fingers toyed with the other, making Buck arch instinctively. A low groan left his throat.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie moaned, voice rough with need. “I’m finally going to eat you out.”

 

Buck’s eyes widened at the ceiling, muscles locking up as his mind spun. It’s fine. Don’t be a weirdo. Don’t freak out.

 

Eddie noticed the tension, eyes softening. He came up to hover over Buck, brushing his nose along Buck’s jaw, before locking him in place with a gaze so intense it made it impossible to look away.

 

“Tell me,” Eddie murmured, breath hot against his skin, “what’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Their cocks brushed, sending a hiss through both of them.

 

“It’s nothing.” Buck’s throat tightened. “Do whatever you desire.”

 

Eddie’s lips curved, a slow, teasing hum vibrating through him. “What I desire…” Eddie hummed, nosing at Buck’s skin again. “Is to make you feel so fucking good, Buck.” He pressed a quick peck against Buck’s lips. “So, tell me why you’re nervous about me tongue fucking your ass.”

 

Buck snorted, cheeks flushing, trying to hide just how turned-on he was by the words.

 

“You think I’ll be bad at it?” Eddie pressed, playful but earnest. “Is that it?”

 

Buck shook his head, half-laughing, half-breathless.

 

“Good,” Eddie murmured. “Because you’ve done it to me plenty of times, so I know exactly how to make you feel incredible. I’ll take care of you. Loosen you up before I make you feel even better.”

 

Buck exhaled shakily, then he admitted, softly, “It’s just… Eds, I’ve never—no one’s ever… done that… to me.”

 

Eddie froze, looking down at him, eyes wide but gentle. “No one ever?”

 

Buck shook his head quickly, lips pressed together to stop the nervous laugh escaping.

 

Eddie’s expression softened, almost protective, and he pressed a light kiss to Buck’s forehead. “Then let me. If you want me to.”

 

Buck’s hands tangled in Eddie’s hair, shaking slightly. “Yeah… please.” His voice was barely a whisper. “I want… I want you.”

 

“Great,” Eddie grinned, pressing a last kiss to Buck’s lips. “Alright, Buckley. On your stomach.”

 

Buck huffed a nervous laugh but obeyed, face, chest, and knees pressed into the mattress, ass high in the air. Eddie guided him gently, adjusting him with care like Buck had never needed, never allowed, before.

 

Soft kisses dotted his ass cheeks, hands roaming lightly, checking in constantly, as if to make sure not to startle Buck. The first brush of Eddie’s tongue against his hole, made Buck jolt violently, back arching.

 

 “Oh—shit.” He tried to scramble away, but Eddie’s grip on his thighs was relentless.

 

Eddie hummed low in response, patient, grounding. “Relax. I’ve got you,” he murmured, fingers sliding along Buck’s hips. A low sound left his throat. Clearly, he was enjoying himself. And that thought made Buck go pliant.

 

Eddie licked him again, and then again. He lapped at that bundle of nerves until Buck was fisting his sheets, eyes shut tightly, torn between pulling Eddie closer and pushing him away.

 

After what felt like forever, Eddie pulled back. “You okay?”

 

Buck’s cheeks were flaming. “Yeah. Just… different. Intense...” His words dissolved into a groan as Eddie’s tongue pressed more firmly this time, slow and deliberate. Buck buried his face in his arm, half laughing, half moaning. “God, Eddie, I feel like such an idiot. I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

 

Eddie’s hand slid up to Buck’s hip again, squeezing gently. “Then don’t do anything,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against Buck in a way that nearly unraveled him. “Just let me take care of you.”

 

Every flick of Eddie’s tongue, every careful suck, every hum of satisfaction made Buck’s nerves dissolve into molten heat. He gasped, moaned, cursed into the sheets, his thighs trembling as the pleasure built in dizzying waves. He’d never felt this, never been given this. Each moment felt like a revelation, like Eddie was rewriting something broken inside him with every slow, patient movement. His thighs shook, gasps spilling uncontrollably as Eddie’s tongue traced, circled, coaxed him open.

 

Eddie pressed his tongue inside him, and Buck could feel his eyes roll back in agonizing pleasure. “Eds—Jesus—” He broke off, hips stuttering helplessly. “I can’t—”

 

Eddie only hummed low in his throat, holding him steady, coaxing him closer, opening him more, murmuring encouragements that vibrated against Buck’s body in ways that left him undone.

 

Buck felt the way Eddie’s tongue filled him and left him aching for more. More. More. More. The thought spilled from his mouth in some kind of chant. His knuckles whitened again around his navy-blue sheets. “Fuck, Eddie. Please.”

 

“Yeah, baby, I know.”

 

Eddie didn’t make him wait. His finger pressed past Buck’s rim with a slow, deliberate push, the glide easy from how thoroughly he’d worked him open with his tongue. At the same time, his lips fastened on the swell of Buck’s ass cheek, sucking like he wanted to leave a mark there, proof of how much he wanted him.

 

The stretch made Buck’s thighs quake. His forehead pressed to the mattress, breath hitching out in broken gasps. “Yeah,” he groaned, almost desperate, already rolling his hips back onto the intrusion. “God—put another one in. I’m fine. I’m okay. I—fuck!”

 

Eddie chuckled low, the sound vibrating against Buck’s skin. He eased a second finger inside, slow and steady, and Buck swore he could feel Eddie grinning against him, like he was savoring the way Buck’s body clenched around him, dragging him in greedily.

 

“Jesus, Eds…” Buck’s voice cracked, somewhere between a whimper and a laugh. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

 

“Claro que sí. You’re goddamn right I am,” Eddie rasped, pumping his fingers in and out with a rhythm that made Buck’s toes curl. “You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are like this. Taking my fingers so well.”

 

Buck buried his face in his arm, biting down on the muscle to muffle a moan, but it still escaped, raw and helpless. He couldn’t believe he was shaking this hard, couldn’t believe how much he wanted it. Every brush of Eddie’s fingers, every nudge against that sweet, burning spot inside him made his body arch up, strung tight with pleasure.

 

“Eddie.” His voice broke on the name, needy and uneven.

 

Eddie’s free hand slid up Buck’s back, grounding him, warm and steady. He bent to kiss the space between his shoulder blades, soft in contrast to the relentless curl of his fingers. “Respira, mi amor. Just breathe. I’ve got you.” He twisted his wrist just so, pulling a strangled cry from Buck. “Dios.” Eddie pressed his forehead to Buck’s lower back. His voice was husky as he spoke, reverent and ruined all at once. “Tan apretado, tan jodidamente mío.”

 

Buck whined, hips rocking back helplessly. The words washed over Buck, hot and tender, even if he didn’t understand everything. His fists bunched the sheets, his body trembling under Eddie’s touch. “Eds—Jesus—fuck, I need…” His words broke on a gasp when Eddie scissored his fingers, dragging another groan out of him.

 

“What do you need, cariño?” Eddie murmured against his skin, the question a low rumble, a tease and a promise all in one.

 

Buck swallowed hard, pressing his face into the mattress, voice muffled but desperate. “A third. I—I can take it. Please, Eddie, give me more.”

 

Eddie groaned, the sound low and raw, his lips dragging along the curve of Buck’s spine. “Me estás matando, Buck. Asking me like that—¿sabes lo que me haces sentir?” He pressed another kiss to his back, teeth scraping lightly. “Greedy, hermoso. Mi putito hambriento.”

 

The filthy endearment made Buck’s whole body jerk, a groan ripping from his throat. Again, he didn’t understand every word, but the tone—God, the tone—had him burning. It didn’t even feel like the words were meant to be for Buck, like Eddie was talking to himself, enjoying himself so much. “Eddie—”

 

“Shh,” Eddie soothed, sliding the third finger in slow, deliberate, his other hand stroking up Buck’s side as if to anchor him through the stretch. He pushed them a few times inside Buck, every time deeper, making him see stars.

 

With a groan, he eased them from Buck with deliberate care. Buck’s body clenched at the loss, a shaky whine spilling out of him. And Buck should be ashamed, but he wasn’t. Because he knew they couldn’t stay like this forever.

 

Eddie’s voice was low, steady, the sound rumbling against Buck’s skin as he leaned over him. “Almost there, mi amor. Just need you.”

 

Buck’s pulse hammered in his ears. He felt Eddie’s hand on his hip, warm, grounding, safe—and then it slid lower, firmer, more certain. It should’ve been good. He wanted it to be good. Every part of him had been begging for this, aching for it. But the moment Eddie’s touch grew possessive, the moment Buck realized what came next, the heat in his veins iced over.

 

“Just relax, Evan. Don’t fight it.”

 

The voice wasn’t Eddie’s, but it hit like a punch to the gut all the same. Deep, coaxing, threaded with impatience. His body remembered before his mind did, the weight pinning him, the taste of cheap liquor on his tongue, the way ‘no’ had never been an option.

 

It was instant, visceral. His breath snagged, chest locking tight, vision blurring. Suddenly Eddie’s hand on his skin wasn’t steady, wasn’t safe. It was heavy, unyielding, trapping.

 

And then he was moving without thinking, shoving himself forward on trembling knees, scrambling toward the other side of his bed.

 

“No—” The word tore out of him, raw and strangled, more reflex than choice.

 

Behind him, Eddie stilled. “Buck?” His voice carried confusion, concern, nothing but care, but Buck couldn’t look back. He couldn’t breathe.

 

“Come on, you said you wanted this.”

 

A flash of hands gripping too tight. The sting of teeth. The shame curling hot in his stomach while he froze, silent, waiting for it to be over.

 

His body remembered things his mind had buried deep. The weight, the voice, the way he hadn’t mattered. All of it crashing down in a split second, turning his skin foreign, his body not his own.

 

His chest heaved, the memories tumbling too fast. “Sorry,” he gasped, still not able to turn around. “Sorry, sorry… sorry.” The word kept slipping past his lips, like if he just apologized enough, it would undo the shame choking him.

 

Eddie’s voice came low and careful. “Hey. Hey, Buck, look at me.”

 

Buck shook his head hard, eyes squeezed shut. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let Eddie see him like this, cracked open and pathetic.

 

“Stop squirming. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

 

The words sliced through his skull, phantom and cruel, and Buck flinched so hard it made his teeth rattle.

 

A pause, then softer: “Evan, please.”

 

And that broke something different in him. Not the old fear, but something raw and tender and terrifyingly new. Because Eddie sounded nothing like Tommy. He sounded worried.

 

Bile rose into Buck throat, and his eyes opened. Not to lock with Eddie’s, but to make it easier to flee and hide inside the bathroom. He locked the door behind him and found the toilet immediately, the contents of his stomach landed inside the pot, until he was a shivering mess on the bathroom’s floor.

 

The tiles were cold against his cheek, but it wasn’t enough to anchor him. His chest hitched, ragged, his body trembling like it had before and didn’t know how to say stop.

 

"You wanted this. Don’t make me regret it."

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, curling tighter against himself, as though he could fold small enough to disappear.

 

From the other side of the door came a knock, light but steady. “Buck.” Eddie’s voice was gentle, laced with concern, threaded with something Buck couldn’t bear to hear. “Open up, please.”

 

Buck’s throat worked, but nothing came out. Shame clamped down harder than the nausea. He hated himself. Hated that he’d ruined this, hated that Eddie had seen him break.

 

The doorknob rattled once, careful. Eddie didn’t force it, didn’t push. He just sighed, soft enough Buck almost missed it, and then: “I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Something in Buck cracked wider. He pressed his fist against his mouth to keep the sob from escaping, but it bled out anyway, harsh and broken. His body shook with it.

 

Minutes stretched. The silence between sobs pressed heavy in the small room, broken only by Eddie’s voice occasionally reassuring him he wasn’t going anywhere and asking whether Buck was ready to open the door for him.

 

Buck stayed on the floor, curled tight, knees pulled to his chest. The tiles bit into his skin, but he barely felt it past the hollow ache in his gut. His head rested against the wall, breaths shallow and uneven, every muscle locked.

 

He’d done the work. He’d gone to therapy, sat in Frank’s office week after week. He’d gone through the sessions, endured the EMDR, dragged his nightmares into the light until his throat was raw. Frank had promised that this would help. That he’d learned to regulate, to ground, to fight back against the panic.

 

So why was he here? Why was his body still betraying him, still remembering every second of something he’d tried so damn hard to bury?

 

Buck pressed his palms to his eyes, sobbing into the darkness behind them. “Pathetic,” he whispered to himself, voice breaking. “You’re fucking pathetic.”

 

He hated himself for wanting this. For wanting Eddie so badly it had burned through him and then choking on the same terror the second he’d gotten close.

 

The silence stretched, heavy and smothering. Buck wasn’t even sure how long he’d been sitting there anymore, shaking and trying to breathe around the storm in his chest, leaning back against the glass next to the shower.

 

And then, without warning, the door cracked. The jolt of wood splintering and hinges straining echoed through the tiny room, making Buck flinch hard. A shoulder shoved through the gap, forcing the lock free.

 

Buck blinked up through wet lashes as Eddie pushed inside, his chest heaving, his face tight with panic. In two strides, Eddie was on the floor with him, gathering Buck into his arms like he was afraid Buck might shatter if he waited another second.

 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie breathed against his hair, voice hoarse, urgent. “I’m so fucking sorry, Buck. I didn’t give you space, I should’ve waited, I just—” He broke off, clutching him tighter, one hand at the back of Buck’s head, the other circling his back. “It’s been half an hour. I couldn’t hear you. I thought—” His voice cracked. He pressed his face into Buck’s temple, whispering softer, rawer: “I was terrified something happened to you.”

 

Buck shook in his arms, overwhelmed by the warmth, the safety, the sincerity wrapping around him. He wanted to melt into it, wanted to believe it, but the shame still dug deep, whispering that he didn’t deserve it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Buck rasped again, words tearing out of him, useless and broken. “I don’t—I don’t know why—”

 

Eddie pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining, steady despite the fear still written on his face. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. Just… let me hold you. Please.”

 

*

 

Later that evening, Buck found himself swaddled in what could only be described as a blanket burrito, courtesy of Eddie. He hadn’t even protested, mostly because Eddie had given him that look, the one that was both stubborn and impossibly gentle, the one that meant resistance was pointless.

 

Now he sat curled on the couch, cocooned in fleece, only his head sticking out. The TV was on low, some mindless rerun playing in the background, but Buck wasn’t watching it. He was just… breathing. Slowly. Evenly.

 

Soft footsteps sounded, and then Eddie reappeared, balancing two steaming mugs of tea. He set one down on the table and handed the other directly into Buck’s hands, making sure his fingers wrapped around the ceramic before letting go. Then he dropped down onto the couch beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

 

“Thanks,” Buck mumbled, his voice rough from earlier. He leaned instinctively against Eddie, the solid weight of him grounding, steady. Safe.

 

For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched, not uncomfortable this time, just… tentative. Healing. Eddie’s presence was so unshakably calm it made Buck’s chest ache.

 

“I’m sorry,” Buck whispered finally, words catching on his tongue. He tightened his grip on the mug, like it could keep him from unraveling again. “For… earlier. For ruining it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

 

Eddie’s head turned, his eyes warm but firm. “Buck.” His voice was steady, but it held that edge of no-nonsense that Eddie reserved for moments he refused to let Buck spiral. “Don’t. Don’t apologize to me.”

 

Buck let out a shaky breath, guilt pressing heavy against his ribs. “But I wanted this. With you. I wanted it so badly, and then I just—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I messed it all up.”

 

“You didn’t mess anything up.” Eddie shifted closer, free hand brushing over the blanket-wrapped bundle of Buck’s knee. “You had a completely humane reaction.”

 

Buck pressed his lips together, fighting the sting in his eyes. “It’s just… I thought therapy was supposed to fix this. Frank said EMDR would help, and I really thought it had. I thought I was past it. But then tonight—” He swallowed hard, shame flooding his chest. “Turns out I’m still the same screw-up as before.”

 

“No,” Eddie said sharply, leaving no room for argument. “Don’t you dare talk about yourself like that.”

 

Buck glanced at him, startled by the intensity in his voice. Eddie’s eyes softened, but his grip on Buck’s knee stayed firm.

 

“Therapy doesn’t make things disappear overnight,” Eddie continued quietly. “Trust me, I know.”

 

Buck blinked at him, the words catching him off guard. Eddie almost never talked about his own stuff.

 

“When I came back from Afghanistan,” Eddie said, voice low, almost thoughtful, “I thought I was fine. That I could just… walk it off. Be normal. But I wasn’t. I’d wake up at night thinking I was still over there. I’d flinch at fireworks. I’d snap at people I loved. Years later, it didn’t matter how many sessions I had with Frank, my brain didn’t just reset because I wanted it to.” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “Hell, it still doesn’t sometimes.”

 

Buck stared at him, throat tight. “But you—you seem so—”

 

“Put together?” Eddie finished gently. “That’s practice. Time. And yeah, therapy. A lot of it. But it wasn’t instant, Buck. It’s not instant for anyone.”

 

Buck let his head fall against Eddie’s shoulder, blanket rustling. He felt small, fragile in a way he hated, but Eddie didn’t seem to mind. Eddie just shifted slightly, tilting his head until it rested against Buck’s hair.

 

“I just… I wanted to be better for you,” Buck murmured, voice resigned.

 

“Buck,” Eddie breathed. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 

“Aside from Christopher,” Buck said, ignoring the beating of his heart. He came to sit a bit straighter, carefully putting his mug on the table as well.

 

“Well…” Eddie said, mock-thinking about it.

 

Buck laughed softly, pushing his shoulder against Eddie’s.

 

“I love you, mi amor,” Eddie said, so simple, so certain, that Buck’s breath caught. “And I wouldn’t mind bottoming forever. I love it when you fuck me into the mattress,” he said. “Or into the couch… Over the counter… In the shower… Against the wall… Over the—”

 

Buck hit him harder with his shoulder this time, another huffed laugh leaving his mouth. “Shut up.”

 

Eddie’s chuckle vibrated through Buck’s shoulder, warm and rich, and it loosened something in Buck’s chest he hadn’t realized he’d been holding so tightly.

 

“I’m serious,” Eddie said, still smiling. “You don’t have to push yourself for me. I like what we have. I like you. Every part of you.”

 

Buck swallowed, the words tangling in his throat. He wanted to believe them, wanted to let them wrap around him as easily as Eddie’s blanket cocoon, but the doubt still scratched at him. “What if I never…” He trailed off, unable to finish.

 

Eddie tilted his head so he could catch Buck’s eyes. “Then we find what works for us. Together. There’s no finish line here, Buck. No deadline. It’s not about what you can or can’t do. It’s about us.”

 

Something inside Buck cracked at that, sharp and tender all at once. He blinked quickly, but the tears still spilled over, hot against his cheeks. Eddie didn’t say anything, just brushed his thumb over Buck’s cheekbone, catching the dampness.

 

“You don’t get it,” Buck whispered, voice trembling. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for someone to… to see me like this. And I thought—I thought I was ready. I thought I could give you everything. And then I just… fell apart.”

 

“You gave me everything the moment you trusted me with this,” Eddie said softly, thumb still moving in slow, grounding strokes. “The moment you let me see you like this. Do you know how much that means to me?”

 

Buck let out a shuddering breath, leaning harder against him, as if Eddie could hold him together when he couldn’t do it himself.

 

For a while, they just sat there. The TV flickered, the mugs of tea went forgotten, but none of it mattered. What mattered was the steady rhythm of Eddie’s breathing, the sure weight of his arm circling around Buck, the heartbeat under his ribs reminding Buck that he wasn’t alone.

 

Eddie pressed a kiss to his temple, lingering. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured. “At your pace. No pressure. No expectations. Just us. I told you… this thing between us, it’s forever.”

 

Buck closed his eyes, letting the words sink deep, letting himself believe them.

Chapter 32

Notes:

:)

Eddie was in love. In love and dizzy with it. In love and happy in a way that made his chest ache with sweetness. In love and content, like the world had finally tilted just right. And yes… in love and a little worried, because love came with a side of nerves, didn’t it?

 

God. Everything felt sharper, brighter, more alive. The rain tapping against the windows wasn’t gray and dreary, it was sparkling, like life itself was drizzling through the city. Even getting a parking ticket—proof that Buck should be driving—didn’t matter.

 

Anger management was almost over, and Eddie could feel the lessons settling in, not just in his head but under his skin. Things with Frank were going well too. Really well.

 

And Chris… Chris had blown through the start of high school like a rocket, landing with an A+ in science. Eddie still didn’t know how the kid’s brain worked that way, he barely understood half the stuff himself, but he couldn’t stop grinning about it.

 

It was the kind of life that felt small and enormous all at once: ordinary moments stitched together with quiet magic. And in the middle of it all, there was Buck.

 

Buck who was finally not drowning anymore. Yes, he had nightmares. Yes, sometimes he shied away from Eddie’s touch. But he was putting in the work with Frank. He actually shared what he was feeling and thinking with Eddie. And Eddie did the same exact thing.

 

Whoever said relationships were easy, was lying. It was working damn hard. But it was so fucking worth it.

 

Eddie shuffled around the kitchen, balancing a mug of coffee in one hand and a plate of toast in the other, when Buck’s bare feet padded across the floor. Eddie caught a glimpse of him yawning, hair sticking up in every direction, and couldn’t help but grin.

 

“Morning,” Buck mumbled, voice rough from sleep, but there was that crooked little smile that always made Eddie’s chest squeeze.

 

“Morning,” Eddie said, setting the coffee down and leaning against the counter. “You sleep okay?”

 

Buck stretched, the blanket still hanging off his shoulders like a cape. “Like a rock… minus the nightmares, apparently.” He grimaced slightly, running a hand through his hair.

 

Eddie’s stomach twisted just a little. Not enough to ruin the morning, but enough to remind him that Buck still carried shadows in him, that the night could be hard even when the day seemed perfect. He walked over, resting a hand on Buck’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “Hey… it’s okay. We’ll get through it. One night at a time, yeah?”

 

Buck glanced at him, eyes softening. “Yeah… one night at a time.”

 

Eddie let himself breathe, feeling the warmth of Buck’s shoulder under his fingers. It was the little things—the faint smudge of toothpaste on his cheek, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, the way he looked at Eddie. Every detail made Eddie feel… lucky, dizzy, in love all over again.

 

Chris’s backpack was slung over the kitchen chair, lunchbox half-open. Eddie smiled to himself, watching Buck fuss over it, checking his lunch, straightening the straps. “You’re like a dad,” he teased, sipping his coffee.

 

Buck rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure the kid doesn’t eat glitter for breakfast.”

 

The sound of laughter between them filled the room, but Eddie felt that tiny tug of worry again. There were things he couldn’t fix for Buck, not the nightmares, not the flashbacks, but he could be here. He could hold the space. He could love him like relentlessly as humanly possible.

 

Eddie dropped the empty coffee mug in the sink and pulled Buck into a hug from behind. Buck leaned into it instinctively, resting his hands on Eddie’s arms. “You good, baby?”

 

“With you?” Eddie hummed. “Always.” He pressed a kiss to Buck’s neck.

 

Buck shivered under the touch, a small laugh escaping. “God, you’re relentless.”

 

Eddie grinned. “Only for you, mi amor.”

 

Then Buck shifted, letting his head rest against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie wrapped an arm around him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body. Even when life threw shadows at them, Eddie reminded himself, mornings like this—simple, quiet, messy—were worth holding onto.

 

And maybe that’s what love was, really: holding each other through the ordinary, and the terrifying, and somehow finding that life still sparkled in between.

 

And he just knew… he wanted nothing else. Just Buck. Forever.

 

“Chris!” Buck’s voice carried down the hallway, warm but insistent. “Come on, buddy, we’re gonna be late if you don’t move those feet!”

 

There was a muffled teenage groan in reply, half complaint, half acknowledgment, and Eddie bit back a smile. He’d been that kid once, dragging his feet before school, trying to squeeze out just five more minutes of freedom before the day began.

 

Buck huffed dramatically, shooting Eddie a look over his shoulder. “Swear to God, he gets slower every year.” He put on his socks, ruffling his hair a bit. He’d have breakfast with Maddie later, so after dropping off Chris and Eddie, he’d have a slow morning.

 

Eddie chuckled. “He’s fifteen, Buck. That’s basically the age of maximum resistance.”

 

A beat later, Chris shuffled into the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower, sneakers untied, headphones dangling around his neck. “I’m ready,” he muttered, clearly not ready at all.

 

“You’re not even close to ready,” Buck countered, swooping down to snag the loose straps on Chris’s backpack.

 

Chris rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched, like he secretly enjoyed the attention. Eddie watched them, heart full in that quiet, overwhelming way that always caught him off guard.

 

It wasn’t just him and Chris anymore. It was the three of them. It felt… whole.

 

The drive to school was a flurry of rain-slicked streets and Buck humming along to some old rock song on the radio. Eddie sat in the passenger seat, half-listening, half-lost in the sight of Buck drumming the steering wheel with easy rhythm. Chris, meanwhile, launched into a rapid-fire recap of his science project, only stopping long enough to breathe.

 

“—and then if the chemical reaction actually works, I’ll be able to prove it for the fair. Mr. Keane said no one’s tried it at our level yet.”

 

“That’s amazing, Chris,” Buck said, genuine pride lacing his voice. “Gonna blow everyone’s minds, huh?”

 

Chris beamed at that, glowing under Buck’s easy encouragement. Eddie’s chest squeezed with the familiar ache.

 

When they pulled up to the curb outside the school, Buck leaned across Eddie to shout through the passenger window. “Alright, genius, go show ‘em what you’re made of. And hey—try not to start any explosions until the second semester, yeah?”

 

Chris snorted, rolling his eyes again, but the grin gave him away. “Bye, Dad. Bye, Buck.” He slammed the door shut and walked up the steps, backpack bouncing.

 

Buck drove further, pulling them away from the curb. The car filled with the sound of rain on the windshield, the steady rhythm of the wipers, the hum of the engine, another song. Eddie let himself sink into it, into the comfort of being driven instead of driving.

 

They were on their way to his final anger management session, and the thought made his stomach knot. Not because he wasn’t ready, but because endings were strange. Final.

 

Buck reached across the console, brushing his fingers against Eddie’s hand where it rested on his thigh. Just a quick touch, a reminder.

 

“You ready?” Buck asked, glancing at him.

 

Eddie exhaled, a slow breath easing out of him. “Yeah. I think I am.”

 

He wasn’t just ready for the session. He was ready for this. For Buck, for Chris, for mornings that started messy and ordinary, for nights that sometimes carried shadows but always ended with love.

 

Buck parked in the lot in front of the building, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Text me when you’re done, and I’ll come pick you up. Maybe we can go do something fun to celebrate.”

 

Eddie threw him a grin before getting out of the car.

 

*

 

The chairs were set up in the same circle as always, the smell of stale coffee lingering in the air, the rain dripping down the tall windows. Eddie had walked into this room half a dozen times, carrying tension in his shoulders. Not these past few times though.

 

He went to sit down in his chair. “Hey.”

 

Talia was already there, her leather jacket creaking as she leaned back with her booted feet stretched out. She gave Eddie a big smile as he sat down. They weren’t exactly friends in the grab-a-drink sense, but there was an easy understanding between them. They’d both come in hot, brittle with defense, and now… they weren’t the same people who’d walked through that door weeks ago.

 

Next to her sat Jordan, the youngest of the group, seventeen going on thirty with the chip on his shoulder. He was fiddling with a frayed string on his hoodie sleeve, eyes darting around like he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here or bolt for the door. Eddie had seen the change in him too, though. A softening. A kid learning he didn’t have to be angry just to be heard.

 

Across the circle was Mark, the corporate guy, always in button-downs that looked too stiff for his own skin. His stories had started with boardroom blowups and fists slammed on desks, the kind of anger that burned reputations and bridges. These days, he carried himself differently, less like a storm cloud and more like a man figuring out how to breathe.

 

There were a couple of others, too, faces Eddie had grown used to. The single mom who used to scream at her ex in parking lots. The quiet mechanic who never said much until week four, when he finally admitted he broke more wrenches than that he fixed cars.

 

Dr. Hersch sat down in his chair. Calm, measured, with that way of asking questions that made you feel seen without being judged. He adjusted his glasses and looked around the circle.

 

“Well,” Hersch said, his voice gentle as ever. “Here we are. Last session.”

 

A ripple of awkward laughter circled the room. Endings were strange, Eddie thought. Strange and a little sad.

 

“I’d like today to be about reflection,” Hersch went on. He rested his hands on his knees, scanning each of them with that steady gaze. “What you’ve learned, what you’ll take with you. Not every problem disappears just because you sat in this room. But growth—” he tapped his chest lightly, “—growth is yours to carry.”

 

Eddie shifted in his chair, the words landing heavier than he expected.

 

“First of, let’s check-in.”

 

And just like that, the familiar rhythm began. Each of them took a turn, offering a snapshot of their week. Eddie glanced at the posters propped against the wall—bright markers listing out the things they’d worked on these past weeks: Identify triggers. Recognize early warning signs. Coping strategies. Communication skills. It looked almost simple written out like that, but God, it had taken work.

 

And sure, he’d still want to beat the crap out of Tommy if he dared to pose a threat to Buck. But he wouldn’t.

 

After half an hour Hersch did a final round of last thoughts.

 

Talia went first, because of course she did. She tipped her chair back on two legs, her leather jacket squeaking as she crossed her arms. “I don’t break things anymore,” she announced with a crooked grin. “Well—except my toaster last week, but that doesn’t count.”

 

A few chuckles rolled around the circle, Eddie’s included.

 

“Seriously,” Talia added, and her voice softened. “I used to think anger was the only way people would listen. Turns out I just needed to listen to myself first.”

 

Jordan, slouched in his hoodie two chairs down, snorted. “Deep,” he muttered, but his ears went pink as soon as the word left his mouth.

 

Hersch tilted his head toward him. “And you, Jordan? Last thoughts?”

 

The kid squirmed, then let out a sharp breath. “I mean… my mom still drives me crazy. That didn’t change. But I don’t…” he shrugged, picking at his sleeve again “I don’t scream at her like I used to. I walk away. I figured out I don’t have to go nuclear every time she says something I hate.”

 

“That’s progress,” Mark said quietly. He cleared his throat. “I’m… kind of the same. My job’s still stressful. But I don’t take it out on people who don’t deserve it. And honestly? I’m sleeping better. Which is… new.”

 

It went around the circle like that. Small victories, realizations, the kind of honesty that felt raw but necessary.

 

When it came to Eddie, he hesitated. His gaze flicked briefly to the window, the gray sky beyond it, then back to the group.

 

“I used to think anger kept me alive,” he said slowly. “That it was… fuel. In the Army, in the firehouse, even at home. But all it really did was keep me from living. It kept me from…” his voice caught for a second, the image of Buck’s smile flashing in his mind “from being present. From loving the people I love the way they deserve. So, yeah. I still get angry. I still screw up. But now… I don’t let it control me. I control it. And I can actually breathe through it. That’s what I’m taking with me.”

 

The silence after was a good kind, thick with understanding. Talia gave him a small, approving smirk.

 

Hersch smiled. “That’s the work. All of you have done the work. And I hope you remember that progress isn’t a finish line. It’s a choice you’ll keep making, day by day.”

 

Eddie let those words sink in. A choice. Yeah. That sounded right.

 

After sharing appreciation for each other and writing a letter to themselves to open in a year time, they had some cake and some of the stale coffee. As the session wound down, people lingered, exchanging numbers, awkward goodbyes. Talia bumped Eddie’s shoulder as she passed. “You’ll be fine, soldier boy.”

 

Eddie chuckled. “You too, leather jacket.”

 

It wasn’t long before Eddie turned to Talia and they slipped away.

 

The drizzle had picked up into a steady rain by the time they stepped outside. The parking lot gleamed under the gray sky, and Eddie shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, exhaling. The weight of the session still lingered in his chest, a strange mix of pride and melancholy.

 

“So,” Talia said, lighting a cigarette under the awning despite the drizzle, “you look like a man with something on his mind. Spill it.”

 

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “You’re not subtle, are you?”

 

“Not in my DNA.” She blew smoke to the side, one brow arched. “What’s eating you?”

 

He hesitated. It felt ridiculous to say it out loud, but then again, she’d watched him unravel in front of strangers for weeks. Maybe she’d earned the truth. “I want to ask Buck to marry me.”

 

Her eyes widened, then softened with a grin that was more feral than tender. “Well, holy shit. About time.”

 

Heat crept up Eddie’s neck. “Yeah, but… the ring. I’ve heard all my life I don’t have taste. My mom, my sisters, mt Tía… They always said I shouldn’t be allowed to buy clothes for myself, let alone jewelry.”

 

Talia barked a laugh. “Oh, Christ. Don’t tell me you dragged me out here because you’re scared of buying something ugly.”

 

“I don’t want to screw this up,” Eddie muttered.

 

“Soldier boy, you’re asking the man to marry you. You think he’s gonna care if the rock is round or square?”

 

Eddie gave her a look, but his mouth twitched. “You’re coming with me anyway.”

 

Which is how he found himself in the jewelry store at the mall twenty-five minutes later, standing stiffly under the too-bright lights while Talia prowled the glass cases like she was casing the joint.

 

The saleswoman smiled politely. “Looking for anything specific today?”

 

“An engagement ring,” Eddie said, his voice steady even though his heart was pounding. His phone buzzed.

 

Buck: hey done yet?

 

“Not for me,” Talia cut in dryly, gesturing toward him. “For his guy.”

 

The woman blinked, then nodded smoothly. “Of course. Any idea what style?”

 

Eddie opened his mouth—and froze. He had no damn clue. His brain, usually reliable under pressure, went blank. He pushed his phone back into his pants, ignoring Buck’s message for now.

 

“Don’t mind him,” Talia said, swooping in. “He’s useless. We’ll know it when we see it.” She tapped the glass. “Pull that tray out. And that one. Yeah, with the platinum bands.”

 

Eddie sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why am I letting you do this?”

 

“Because you trust me more than your taste,” she shot back, then softened just a fraction. “Relax, Diaz. We’ll find the one that feels like him. That’s all that matters.”

 

Eddie bent over the glass, scanning the rows of rings. Some were flashy, studded with diamonds that made his stomach clench. Too much. Too loud. Buck didn’t need a crown on his finger.

 

That was… if Buck even said yes.

 

The thought slammed into Eddie with more force than he expected, enough that he had to steady himself with a hand on the glass case.

 

He had told Buck, again and again, that they were forever. Said it in the quiet, in the loud, in the middle of arguments and in the soft haze of bed. He meant it every time. But sometimes, late at night, when Buck was turned away from him, breathing unevenly through some nightmare he couldn’t chase away—Eddie wondered.

 

Did Buck feel the same? Or was Eddie asking for too much, too fast, when Buck was still piecing himself together?

 

“Hey,” Talia’s voice cut through the spiral. She was watching him with those sharp, dark eyes that missed nothing. “Don’t psych yourself out. He loves you. Even a blind person could see that.”

 

Eddie swallowed, forcing the knot in his throat down. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I just… what if I mess it up? What if I don’t give him what he deserves?”

 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” She gestured at the trays of rings. “That’s what he deserves. You trying. You showing up. Everything else is just decoration.”

 

Eddie huffed out a shaky laugh, and then turned back to the rows of jewelry.

 

The first tray the saleswoman pulled out was all sparkle and shine—thick platinum bands studded with diamonds, some shaped into angular designs that looked more like something a pop star would wear than Buck. Eddie’s stomach twisted. Buck wasn’t about show. He hated attention for attention’s sake.

 

“No,” Eddie said quietly, shaking his head.

 

“Too flashy,” Talia agreed, waving the tray away like she was dismissing a bad drink order. “Next.”

 

The next tray was plain bands, gold and platinum, polished so bright the lights reflected off them like mirrors. Eddie stared at them for a long moment. Clean. Simple. Safe.

 

Safe. That was the problem. Buck wasn’t just simple. He wasn’t plain. He was light and fire, reckless and thoughtful, messy and steady all at once. A plain band felt like an afterthought.

 

“Not right,” Eddie muttered.

 

Talia leaned her hip against the case, smirking faintly. “Okay, soldier boy, tell me about him. Pretend I’ve never met him. Who’s Buck?”

 

Eddie’s chest tightened at the question, words bubbling up before he could stop them. “He’s… he’s loyal. Too loyal sometimes. He’ll throw himself into danger without thinking, but he’ll also stay up all night making sure Chris feels safe after a nightmare. He’s… kind. To everyone. Even when they don’t deserve it. And he—he’s got this way of seeing people. Really seeing them.” Eddie’s throat worked, the words tumbling out unsteady. “He’s not afraid to shine, but he doesn’t always see that in himself.”

 

The saleswoman had gone still, listening. Even Talia’s grin had softened, something gentler flashing in her eyes.

 

“Alright,” Talia said after a beat, her voice low. “So we need a ring that’s solid. Strong. But with something unique. Something that says he’s not like anybody else.”

 

The saleswoman slid another tray across the glass. Eddie’s gaze landed on it immediately.

 

It was a band, yes, but not plain. Brushed platinum, matte and cool under his fingers, solid without being flashy. The edges were subtly beveled, catching the light in a way that made it feel alive without demanding attention. Down the center ran an inlaid strip of deep blue, steady and calm, like the ocean at twilight. Not loud, not screaming for attention, but there. Distinct. Unmistakable.

 

Eddie’s chest constricted.

 

He turned it over in his hand, tracing the cool metal with his thumb. Every line, every shadow of the bevel, every hint of color in the inlay whispered Buck: strong, steady, enduring, and quietly, entirely, completely devoted.

 

This was Buck.

 

Not the shine on the surface, but the depth beneath.

 

“This one,” Eddie said.

 

*

 

Eddie walked out of the mall with the small maroon bag tucked deep into his hand, like contraband. The rain had eased to a mist, the kind that clung to his lashes and darkened the shoulders of his coat. Beside him, Talia flicked her lighter open and closed, restless energy spilling out of her like sparks.

 

“Well?” she asked, giving him a sidelong glance. “Feel less like you’re gonna puke?”

 

 “Not really,” Eddie huffed. “I mean… it’s perfect. It’s him. But what if he doesn’t—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening.

 

“What if he doesn’t say yes?” Talia filled in, matter-of-fact.

 

He shot her a look.

 

She shrugged. “You were gonna say it. And hey, I don’t know Buck the way you do, but he’d have to be a lunatic not to want forever with you. You basically already live like you’re married, don’t you?”

 

Eddie exhaled through his nose. Married. Yeah, they did live that way. The routines, the kid, the quiet way Buck always reached for him like he was gravity. But that voice, the one that had been drilled into him since he was a kid, kept needling: what if you’re wrong?

 

They rounded the corner, and Eddie nearly walked straight into them.

 

Buck. Standing right there, rain flattening his curls, half turned toward his sister. Maddie, very pregnant and glowing in that sharp-edged way only she could, was scolding him with her hands flying while he protested with that boyish grin that said he knew he was losing the argument.

 

The grin vanished the second Buck spotted him. His blue eyes widened, darting from Eddie to Talia, and confusion flooded his face. “Uh… hi? I thought you were…” He frowned. “…gonna text when you were done so I could swing by.”

 

Eddie froze, heart jackknifing. Shit. Shit. The bag in his hand suddenly weighed ten pounds. In a panic, he shoved it into Talia’s hands like a live grenade.

 

“Talia’s, uh—” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat “Talia’s gonna propose. To Mack.”

 

Talia didn’t even blink. She cradled the bag against her chest like it belonged to her. “That’s right,” she said smoothly, her grin sharp enough to cut glass. “Been planning it for a while now. Mack’s gonna lose her mind.”

 

Her? Eddie’s brain stuttered. He’d been convinced Mack was some tough, leather-

jacketed guy. Talia didn’t so much as flinch.

 

Buck blinked. “Her? Mack’s short for…?”

 

“Mackenzie,” Talia supplied, easy as breathing. “She’s got terrible taste in movies but she’s the love of my life.”

 

Eddie kept his face neutral, but inside, his pulse was slamming.

 

For a second, Buck just stared. His shoulders were tight, his brows drawn, like he was piecing together some puzzle he hadn’t wanted to admit existed. Then, just as quickly, he exhaled. His whole body loosened, that knot between his brows easing. “Wow. That’s—congratulations.” He grinned, sudden and genuine. “She’s lucky to have you.”

 

“Damn right,” Talia said, smirking.

 

Maddie’s voice cut in gently. “Are you going to introduce us, Buck?”

 

“Oh—yeah. Sorry.” Buck rubbed the back of his neck. “Talia, this is my sister, Maddie. Maddie, this is Talia. She, uh… she and Eddie are in the anger management together.”

 

Maddie offered her hand, smiling warmly despite her weariness. “Nice to meet you. And congratulations.”

 

Talia clasped it, unwavering. “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

 

Eddie’s throat was dry, but he managed a small smile, staying quiet as Buck and Maddie fell into light chatter with Talia. On the surface, it was nothing, simple introductions, polite congratulations. But Eddie saw it, the shift in Buck. The way that storm of confusion he’d carried for those first sharp seconds had melted into relief, into something softer.

 

The conversation drifted, Buck’s grin animated again as he teased Maddie about her “bossy older sister routine,” which only earned him a sharp elbow and an affectionate eye-roll. Talia held her own, tossing in the occasional dry remark that made Maddie snort and Buck blink at her like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or impressed.

 

Through it all, Eddie couldn’t stop tracking the little maroon bag in Talia’s hand. Every time she shifted her weight or gestured, his stomach flipped like she might fling it into a puddle or hold it up for everyone to see.

 

He cleared his throat. “Uh, we should probably get going. Don’t want to keep you guys standing out here.”

 

“Oh, right.” Buck glanced at Maddie, then back at him. “We brought the Jeep. We can give you a ride. Save you both the walk.”

 

Eddie’s first instinct was to say no. Absolutely not. The idea of being trapped in the backseat with Talia holding his secret like dynamite was borderline nauseating. But Talia, traitor that she was, grinned and said, “Sure, why not. Thanks.”

 

Eddie shot her a look. She just winked, tucking the bag safely under her arm like she’d been carrying precious cargo her whole life.

 

So, five minutes later, he found himself into the backseat beside her. Maddie climbed into the passenger seat with some effort, Buck hovering until she swatted him away with a muttered, “I’m pregnant, not porcelain, Buck.”

 

Eddie caught the soft smile on his face as he finally circled around to the driver’s side. God, he loved him.

 

Still, his chest was tight as the Jeep rumbled to life. Every bump in the road felt like it might jostle that bag free, send it tumbling into Buck’s lap. He forced his gaze out the window, but it kept flicking back to Talia, who looked smugly comfortable, one arm draped over the seat, bag secure against her hip.

 

“So, Talia,” Maddie said lightly, twisting around to face her. “How long have you been planning the proposal?”

 

Eddie stiffened. Don’t blow it, don’t blow it—

 

“Couple months,” Talia replied smoothly. “Mack has this habit of thinking she’s the one with all the surprises, so… figured it’s my turn.”

 

Buck glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his grin wide. “She’s gonna lose her mind. That’s awesome.”

 

Talia smirked. “That’s the plan.”

 

Eddie exhaled slowly, trying to unclench his fists. Somehow, impossibly, she was pulling this off.

 

And then Buck’s eyes met his in the mirror, just for a second. That open, steady look that always knocked the air out of him. Eddie swallowed hard, forcing a small smile, hoping it covered the way his pulse was hammering.

 

Relief washed through him when Buck finally turned his focus back to the road, humming under his breath. Maddie was talking again, something about nursery colors, and Talia was actually listening, nodding along.

 

The bag stayed put. The ring stayed hidden.

 

By the time the Jeep rolled up to Talia’s apartment, Eddie’s stomach felt like a live wire.

 

“Alright, here we are,” Buck said, pulling into a spot in front of her building.

 

Talia unbuckled, snatched the bag, and looked over at Eddie. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect it, Soldier boy,” she whispered with a grin that did not ease Eddie’s nerves.

 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbled, his voice tight.

 

“Don’t thank me yet,” she teased, sliding out of the Jeep. “You better text me when it’s safe.”

 

Buck and Maddie both turned. Maddie waved at her and Buck gave her a crooked grin. “Goodluck with Mack.”

 

Talia winked at him.

 

Once she was gone, they circled back toward Chim and Maddie’s place. She barely said a word as Buck eased the Jeep into a parking spot outside her apartment building, clearly tired. She gave Eddie a little wave, leaned on his arm for balance, and he waved back numbly. With both women gone, Eddie slumped into the passenger seat, exhaling like he’d just run a marathon. His hands were fisted in his lap, knuckles white.

 

It must be a sign. Proposing was a bad idea.

 

Buck started driving again, humming softly under his breath, then, as if remembering something, his voice broke the quiet.

 

“So, get this,” he began, eyes fixed on the road but hands loose on the wheel. “At the station, we had this rat. Not a big one, tiny, sneaky little bastard, and it somehow got into the supply closet where we keep the hazmat suits. And I swear, I don’t know how, but I found it, no joke, wearing one of the tiny gloves. Just... standing there, looking like it owned the place. I named it Sir Hazmat. Can you imagine?”

 

Eddie blinked, staring out the window, mind buzzing a mile a minute. Sir Hazmat. Tiny gloves. Buck’s insane ability to make a rat look like it had rank. And yet… he couldn’t focus. He couldn’t think about the story, or the Jeep, or even the rain misting the windshield. All he could feel was the weight of the bag with the ring, sitting safely, or dangerously, in Talia’s hands somewhere.

 

What were the odds of this going awry already? He hadn’t even asked Buck and he had already almost ruined it.  

 

He could feel his pulse in his throat. He needed… something. A thread to pull his brain onto before it unraveled entirely.

 

“I want to scene,” he blurted suddenly, voice tight and urgent, cutting through Buck’s ramble.

 

Buck went silent mid-word, staring at him, before focusing back on the road. The Jeep hummed over a puddle, tires splashing lightly.

 

“You… what?” Buck asked slowly, brows knitting together.

 

Eddie’s throat tightened. He didn’t want to admit that his mind was buzzing with a thousand what-ifs, that the ring and every possible disaster were clanging around like a storm inside him. He needed something familiar, something that would anchor him.

 

“Scene,” he repeated, quieter this time. “With me. Please. It’s… been a while.”

 

Buck’s eyes flicked toward him again, searching. “You okay?”

 

Eddie shrugged, forcing a casualness he didn’t feel. “Yeah… I’m fine. I just… want to scene again. That’s all.”

 

Buck tilted his head, still studying him. “You sure? You don’t sound fine.”

 

“I’m sure,” Eddie said quickly, the words almost too fast. He leaned back, trying to settle the tension in his shoulders. “I just… want to focus on something else for a bit. Something normal. Something—” He paused, swallowing, “—something us.”

 

Buck’s grip on the wheel loosened slightly, but his gaze didn’t waver. That soft, knowing look that always seemed to see through Eddie’s half-meant words. “Alright,” he said finally, voice low but steady. “If it… helps, we’ll do it. We’ll scene.”

 

Eddie let himself exhale, slow and careful, grateful that Buck didn’t push him. He felt the knot in his chest ease just a fraction. He could latch onto this—the rhythm, the connection, the familiar push and pull between them—rather than spiraling over plans, rings, and what-ifs he wasn’t ready to confront yet. Eddie felt the tiniest hint of calm settle over him, just enough to focus on Buck’s steady presence beside him.

 

He’d already caught himself spiraling too far in his own head. When Buck asked why he’d been pulling away, Eddie had almost blurted everything all at once: because he was obsessing over the perfect way to propose; because he kept wondering if Buck loved him as much as he loved Buck; because he was second-guessing what his family would think, what Buck’s family would think. Because he’d been planning this for weeks, agonizing over every detail, and somehow it still felt too soon, too reckless, too impossible.

 

“My, uh, my parents are coming to town. You know, with Maddie pregnant and stuff…” Buck suddenly said, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, eyes on the traffic ahead.

 

And just like that, Eddie felt like the world’s biggest dick. Here he was, spinning out about himself, about rings and plans, and Buck had this whole storm waiting for him too. He’d been acting like he was the only one carrying weight.

 

“How do you feel about that?” Eddie asked quietly, leaning slightly toward him.

 

Buck huffed a laugh, sharp and nervous. “Like I should be thirty percent more adult than I am. Like… they’re going to look at me and see I’m still the kid who used to mess up everything. Maddie’s glowing, Chim’s solid, and me? I’m just—” He gestured vaguely with one hand, knuckles brushing the gearshift. “Me.”

 

Eddie’s chest tightened. He wanted to reach across, to hold Buck’s hand, but the Jeep was in motion and his pulse was already loud in his ears.

 

“You’re more than enough,” Eddie said, a little too fast, the words tumbling out before he could soften them. “And they’ll see it too. They’ll see who you are now, Buck. Especially after the last time.”

 

Buck shot him a startled glance, then ducked his head with a small smile. “You have to say that. Boyfriend duties.”

 

“Not duties. Truth,” Eddie said firmly, reaching across to take Buck’s hand in his. His thumb brushed over the back of Buck’s knuckles, gentle but grounding. “You’re more than enough. For them. For Maddie. For me. I’ve got you, Buck.”

 

Buck’s jaw flexed, and then a soft laugh slipped out. “Wow. Even with your beef with my parents, you’re still coming to their defense?”

 

Eddie smirked, shrugging one shoulder. “Hey, I may have issues with them, but I have zero issues with you.”

 

Buck’s laugh broke again, this time a little more relaxed, and he gave Eddie’s hand a gentle squeeze. The tension eased just enough for Buck to physically relax. The silence stretched between them for a moment.

 

“So… Already planning our scene already?”

 

Buck shot him a wicked grin.

 

*

 

Buck had him kneeling beside the bed in minutes after they came home. Stark naked, rope kissing across his skin, wrists bound neatly behind his back. Buck’s work was precise, careful, he always tied with intention, and now Eddie knelt there alone, the soft hum of the fridge and faint clatter from the kitchen filtering up the stairs.

 

It really felt like all those months ago, when Eddie had asked Buck to scene with him for the first time. Back when he’d been too tangled up in denial to admit what was really behind it—that he was in love with his best friend and didn’t know how else to be near him without combusting.

 

But, God, this felt good.

 

The silence wrapped around him almost as tightly as the rope did. Every knot reminded him: he wasn’t in charge here. He didn’t need to make decisions or carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could just exist, tethered, breathing, waiting.

 

The fibers bit into his skin when he shifted on his knees, the slightest sting grounding him. His chest expanded slowly, evenly, something he hadn’t managed for the past few hours. He stared at the shadows on the floor, at the neat coil of rope Buck had left waiting on the nightstand for later, and for once his mind wasn’t running itself ragged.

 

Then Buck’s footsteps creaked on the stairs.

 

Eddie’s heart jumped, not with panic but with anticipation. He obediently looked down at the floor again, straightening his back slightly. The sound grew closer, steady, unhurried, because Buck always took his time with him, always made sure Eddie felt the care threaded into every step.

 

When Buck finally appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying two bottles of water, his eyes flicked over Eddie in one long sweep. The corner of his mouth tugged upward, as Eddie casted his eyes down again, cheeks reddening. It wasn’t smug, rather fond.

 

“You’re perfect,” Buck murmured, setting the bottles down on the nightstand before crouching in front of him. He brushed a hand down Eddie’s chest, pausing at his nipples, teasingly. “How’s your head?”

 

Eddie exhaled slowly, his forehead dipping forward until it almost touched Buck’s shoulder. “Quiet,” he admitted.

 

“Good,” Buck murmured, lips brushing the crown of Eddie’s head in a fleeting kiss. “That’s all I want.” His voice was low, humming with approval. Then, gently but firmly, he added, “Tell me your safewords.”

 

Eddie felt his wrists loosen as Buck undid the simple knot. For a beat, he frowned, confused. Untied? But he answered anyway, automatic and practiced. “Green for keep going, yellow for pause, red for stop. Safeword to end the scene. Sir.”

 

“Good boy.” The words landed warm, like a reward in themselves, and Eddie’s chest tightened with heat. “Now. Go sit on the bed.”

 

He moved without hesitation, crawling up onto the forest-green duvet. He knelt, thighs spread slightly, hands heavy on them, waiting. His pulse was loud in his ears.

 

The first thing Eddie noticed was the color. The rope Buck pulled from the nightstand wasn’t the rough beige cord Eddie had pictured, or even the black leather he half-expected. It was a coil of deep, vivid red that glowed against Buck’s hands.

 

Buck placed it on the bed, right before Eddie’s knees, deliberate. Then came the next thing: a flash of metal, small and sharp in the lamplight, set down beside the rope with quiet finality. Then a red candle. Then a folded blindfold, soft and ominous all at once.

 

Eddie’s chest tightened. His curiosity was a drumbeat against his ribs, pounding faster with every object Buck lined up like a promise.

 

And God, he fucking loved this. Loved the way Buck’s mind worked. How he planned, how he introduced Eddie to things Eddie didn’t even know he’d crave. Every scene with Buck felt like stepping into something Eddie couldn’t have imagined until it was happening, and every damn time, it hooked him deeper.

 

“Okay, pretty boy,” Buck started, sitting at the edge of the bed. He didn’t have to raise his voice, the quiet weight of it carried enough authority. He picked the coil of rope from the bed with deliberate care. “This isn’t just rope. I mean—it is rope, but not the kind you grab from a hardware store. This is my good rope. I’ve been wanting to tie you up fully. It’s called Shibari. It’s not just restraint, it’s art. Every knot, every pull, it’s about pressure and symmetry, about shaping your body into something I get to own for a while.”

 

He lifted the metal clamps next. “Now, these guys look scary, but they’re not. They’re sharp at first, don’t pretend they won’t be, but then the ache settles in, and every brush, every shift, is amplified. I’ll put them on your nipples. You’ll hate me for making you take them, and you’ll thank me when you realize how much more it makes you feel.”  

 

Then the candle rolled between his palms, slow and deliberate, his eyes locked on Eddie. “And this,” he said, voice dropping just a notch, “is for wax play. Controlled heat. I’ll blindfold you first, because not knowing when or where it’s going to land, that’s half the point. Your body won’t be able to decide whether to brace or to crave more, and that’s where the fun starts. The heat, the shock, the cool, every drop pulls you deeper.”

 

He leaned in slightly, his voice still calm but edged with steel. “So, here’s the deal, Eddie. Rope, clamps, wax. You give me your body, I give you the release you’re chasing. How does that sound?”

 

“Yes,” Eddie breathed. “Green, sir.”

 

Buck gave him another wicked grin, eyes twinkling. It lingered only a second before he sobered, rolling the coil of rope through his hands, testing its weight like it belonged there. “Good,” he murmured, voice velvet and command all at once. “Then hold still for me.”

 

Eddie’s breath caught when Buck moved closer, knees pressing into the mattress. The rope whispered as Buck unwound it, the sound sharp and deliberate in the quiet room.

 

“Hands behind your back,” Buck instructed, and Eddie obeyed instantly, wrists crossing at the small of his spine. Buck’s fingers brushed over them, warm, grounding, before the rope followed, sliding across Eddie’s skin in a smooth, deliberate stroke.

 

It wasn’t rough. It was soft, almost silky, but firm enough that Eddie could already feel the promise of pressure as Buck wound it once, twice, before knotting with practiced ease.

 

“You feel that?” Buck’s voice hummed low against his ear as he cinched the knot tight. “That’s not just restraint. That’s a tether. Every pull I give, you’ll feel it ripple across your body. And every time you breathe against it, you’ll know you’re mine.”

 

Eddie swallowed, a low sound catching in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

 

Buck moved with calm precision, looping the rope across Eddie’s chest now, pulling it snug beneath his pecs. Each tug pressed his lungs tighter, his breath just a fraction shallower. Not choking, not dangerous—controlled. Designed.

 

Buck guided the rope across his shoulders and down again. Eddie could feel himself being shaped, piece by piece, into something else. Bound but… displayed.

 

“You’re beautiful like this,” Buck said, almost absentmindedly, like it was a fact. His fingers traced over the diamonds forming across Eddie’s torso, checking for balance, for symmetry. Then he tugged once, hard, just to hear the small, involuntary sound that spilled out of Eddie’s chest.

 

Heat coiled in Eddie’s belly. His cock was already hardening, straining against nothing but air, and Buck had barely started.

 

“You see what I mean now?” Buck murmured, leaning in close. “Every knot pulls you tighter. Every line draws my eyes where I want them. By the time I’m finished, you won’t just feel owned, you’ll know you belong to me.”

 

Eddie’s breath stuttered. His pulse roared in his ears. He couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but nod.

 

“Use your words, pretty boy.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Buck’s answering smile was slow, satisfied, dangerous.

 

By the time Buck leaned back to survey his work, Eddie’s body was crisscrossed with neat diamonds of red, the rope biting just enough to remind him with every breath that he was held, restrained, shaped. His arms were snug behind him, shoulders pulled straight, posture forced open like Buck had designed him that way.

 

“Perfect,” Buck murmured, running his palm over Eddie’s chest as if smoothing the rope into his skin. “Now for the next layer.”

 

He reached for the small glint of metal lying at the edge of the bed. Eddie’s eyes locked on them, heart stumbling. The clamps.

 

“You remember what I said earlier?” Buck asked, his voice low and steady. He turned the clamps over in his hands like he was inspecting them. “They bite. Sharp at first. But then…” He pinched one experimentally, the faint click of metal loud in the quiet. “…they’ll settle into this steady ache. And every time I brush against them, you’ll feel it twice as much.”

 

Eddie’s pulse jumped. His cock too. “Yes, sir.”

 

“Good boy.” Buck’s tone warmed as he reached forward. He didn’t just slap them on—he teased, thumb brushing over Eddie’s nipples first, rolling them, coaxing them until Eddie hissed at the attention. Then the clamp snapped into place.

 

The sting was immediate, bright, and Eddie gasped, his body jerking before the ropes held him firm.

 

“Breathe through it,” Buck soothed, one large hand bracing Eddie’s chest. His eyes never left Eddie’s face. “There it is. Let it settle.”

 

The second clamp followed, sharp enough to make Eddie grunt. His head dropped forward, forehead brushing Buck’s shoulder.

 

“Hurts,” Eddie whispered.

 

“I know.” Buck’s hand cupped the back of his neck, grounding him. “But wait for it. Give it a second. That ache? That’s yours now. And it’s going to make everything else better.”

 

Eddie swallowed hard, the mix of pain and anticipation making his cock twitch helplessly.

 

Buck helped him lay down fully, picking up the blindfold. “Ready, baby?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Eddie said without hesitation, voice hoarse.

 

The fabric slid over his eyes, darkness swallowing him whole. His world narrowed to the sensation of rope digging into his skin, the steady throb of the clamps, and Buck’s presence—warm, solid, circling him like a predator taking his time.

 

And then Eddie heard the faint flick of a lighter. His chest tightened. In curiosity? In anticipation? Slight fear? He didn’t know.

 

The first drop landed just below his collarbone. Eddie cried out, the heat sharp and immediate, but then it cooled almost instantly, leaving behind a tingling echo that made him gasp.

 

“Good boy,” Buck praised, and another drop fell, this time lower, dangerously close to where the rope pressed across his chest. Eddie jerked at the sting, breath ragged.

 

Every drop that followed was a shock, his mind caught between bracing for the heat and craving the next sting. With the blindfold keeping him in darkness, each fall of wax stole his breath, each line of fire making the clamps, the rope, everything else feel sharper, brighter.

 

And Buck’s voice wove through it all, calm, commanding, unshakable. “That’s it. Take it for me. Let it burn. Let me make you feel everything.”

 

The next drop fell just above his cock, hot and sudden, and Eddie’s whole body jerked. A hiss tore from his throat. “Buck—Sir, fuck.”

 

Buck hummed low, a vibration Eddie felt through the rope and clamps, his fingers trailing down Eddie’s thigh in deliberate, teasing strokes before tugging at the clamps. The sharp ache deepened, and a loud, involuntary moan tore from Eddie’s mouth, his back arching instinctively.

 

“Ta puta—” he groaned, cutting himself off as Buck’s mouth closed over the skin near his nipple, warm and wet, licking and teasing with that infuriating precision. Then the other.

 

“Don’t talk about my mom like that,” Buck murmured against the sensitive skin, voice low but amused. Eddie could feel the grin, could feel the smug satisfaction through every stroke, every tug, every flick of Buck’s tongue.

 

The combination of heat, pinch, and touch made his brain snap and spiral all at once—pain, pleasure, and the knowledge that Buck was fully in control wrapping around him like the rope itself. Every nerve ending screamed, every muscle pulsed, and Eddie had no choice but to surrender completely.

 

The rope held him tight, but it was Buck’s mouth that undid him. Hot and wicked against his chest, tongue circling, lips tugging, then pulling back just enough to blow cool air over spit-slick skin. The contrast made Eddie shiver, hips jerking against the rope that held him still.

 

His pulse jumped, his world narrowing to touch and sound: Buck’s low hum, the faint creak of the bed, the quiet strike of the candle being lifted again.

 

“Deep breath for me,” Buck ordered softly.

 

Eddie obeyed, lungs filling, chest tight against the rope.

 

The next drop landed on his stomach, a hot sting that made him gasp, then another followed near his collarbone. He couldn’t see, couldn’t predict, only brace and burn.

 

“That’s it,” Buck praised, voice steady, close. “Such a good boy for me. Every drop you take, every sound you make—it’s mine.”

 

A low, helpless groan spilled from Eddie’s mouth as wax dotted across his ribs, his chest, his hip. Heat bloomed sharp, then dulled into throbbing warmth, each one pulling him further under. His body twisted, but the rope bit back, a constant reminder he belonged exactly where Buck had put him.

 

Then Buck tugged on the clamps again, sharp enough to make Eddie cry out. His back arched, muscles straining against the knots.

 

“Fuck!”

 

Buck’s laugh was quiet, smug, close to his ear. “You feel everything sharper now, don’t you? That’s the beauty of it. Layer after layer until you can’t tell if you’re begging me to stop or for more.”

 

Another drop hit the inside of his thigh, and Eddie’s breath punched out of him.

 

“You’re mine like this,” Buck murmured, a hand sliding through Eddie’s hair, grounding him even as the rest of him burned. “Every sound, every twitch, every goddamn heartbeat, it all belongs to me.”

 

And Eddie, blindfolded, bound, and aching in the best way, could only whisper, wrecked and honest, “Yes, Sir.”

 

He was shaking. Every nerve was strung so tight it felt like the rope had seeped into his bloodstream, wrapping around his insides as much as his skin. The wax cooling across his chest sent little aftershocks each time he breathed, the clamps tugged with every twitch, and underneath it all—underneath the burn, the ache—was the pulsing need in his cock, so hard it was almost painful.

 

And still, Buck hadn’t given him what he craved most.

 

He was half-gone already, floating, head tilted back against the blindfold, but Buck’s voice pulled him down, steady, grounding. “That’s it, baby. Take it for me.”

 

Another drip of wax landed, this time just above his cock, and Eddie’s body jolted so violently the bed creaked. A strangled hiss left his lips. “Buck. Jesus”

 

He heard Buck’s low hum, felt fingers tracing lazy patterns down his thigh. And then the sharp tug of the clamps, white-hot agony spiking straight through him.

 

Eddie cried out, back arching hard, rope digging deep into his shoulders. The pain was unbearable, and it was perfect, because Buck’s hand finally closed around his cock, firm and unyielding. He nearly sobbed with relief, the sudden pleasure crashing into him like a wave.

 

“Not yet,” Buck said, his voice a growl in Eddie’s ear, hand moving with cruel precision, tight, slow strokes that made Eddie buck helplessly into the grip. “You don’t come until I say.”

 

Eddie’s whole body trembled, the edge so close he could taste it. Every muscle strained against the ropes, every nerve begged for release. His chest heaved, a litany of broken sounds falling from his mouth, but Buck kept him there, hovering, straining, desperate.

 

“Please,” Eddie gasped, his voice wrecked. “Please let me—”

 

The clamps tugged again, and Eddie screamed, the sound dissolving into a moan when Buck’s strokes quickened, ruthless now, dragging him higher, tighter, until there was nowhere left to go.

 

But then Buck stopped.

 

Eddie choked on a whimper, hips jerking uselessly in the air, denied at the very edge. His cock throbbed, aching for friction, but Buck’s hand only ghosted over him, not giving enough to push him anywhere.

 

“You’re greedy today,” Buck murmured, lips brushing his ear, voice low and steady. “Already begging, already shaking.”

 

“Sir, please—” His voice cracked, half-sob, half-prayer.

 

A sharp smack to his inner thigh made him yelp, the sting bright and hot. “Quiet.”

 

Eddie bit down on his lip, trembling, straining against the ropes that refused to give. Every inch of him was raw, stretched thin, all nerves tangled between pain and want. The blindfold made it worse, every pause stretched out forever, every touch a shock he couldn’t predict.

 

Then Buck’s hand was back, slow, merciless, sliding over his cock with just enough pressure to drive him insane. Up and down, measured, teasing, each stroke pulling him back to the edge only to ease off again.

 

Eddie was unraveling, a wreck of gasps and broken moans, his whole body reduced to need. He would have promised anything, given anything, if only Buck would let him fall.

 

But he didn’t. He tightened his grip at the base, squeezing hard enough to make Eddie cry out, the orgasm shoved cruelly back down his spine. Eddie thrashed against the ropes, the fibers biting even more into his skin, his muscles trembling with the strain of fighting something he couldn’t escape.

 

“Look at you,” Buck murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “So desperate you’re shaking. So hard it hurts. And all because I won’t give you what you want.”

 

“Sir—” His voice was raw with need. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t—”

 

“You can,” Buck said firmly, cutting him off. His thumb brushed over the head of Eddie’s cock, smearing precum down the length in a torturous glide. “You’ll take everything I give you. You’ll hold it until I’m done with you.”

 

Another tug on the clamps sent lightning through his chest, and Eddie thrashed, groaning as Buck started stroking him again. Faster this time, relentless, dragging him right back to the edge. His body arched violently, every muscle locked, the ropes the only thing keeping him tethered.

 

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

 

“No, you’re not.” Buck’s hand stilled again, cruel and absolute.

 

Eddie almost sobbed, his cock pulsing helplessly, so close it physically hurt. His skin was on fire, every nerve raw, the blindfold leaving him drowning in the dark with only Buck’s voice to cling to. He shook his head, desperate, lips trembling. “Please, Sir, please—I’m begging you, I’ll do anything—”

 

“That’s the point,” Buck whispered, his mouth grazing Eddie’s ear. “I want you begging. I want you ruined for anyone else. But you don’t get to come just because you want it. You come when I say.”

 

Before Eddie could answer, Buck’s mouth was on his. Hot, hungry, consuming. The kiss stole his breath, smothered his whimpers, forced his desperation into something wordless. Buck kissed him like he owned him, tongue demanding, lips relentless, until Eddie could do nothing but yield, trembling, ropes creaking under the strain of how badly he wanted to wrap himself around Buck and never let go.

 

By the time Buck pulled away, Eddie was panting, wrecked, lips swollen, the taste of him everywhere.

 

And then he started again, hand merciless this time, stroking Eddie in tight, ruthless pulls, rhythm unrelenting. His other hand tugged the clamps in time, each shock of pain twisting into the pleasure until Eddie couldn’t tell them apart. His body was a live wire again, every nerve stretched thin, every muscle trembling violently as he clawed for release.

 

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, dampening the blindfold. He couldn’t stop the words spilling from his lips, desperate, broken, over and over: “Please, Sir, I can’t, I can’t hold it, please let me, I need it, I need you—”

 

Buck’s hand never faltered. Every stroke was calculated torture, his fist tight and sure around Eddie’s cock, dragging him right up to the cliff and holding him there. The ropes dug deeper into his skin with every thrash, every futile arch of his body, binding him tighter to the bed, binding him tighter to Buck’s will.

 

Eddie whole body quaked with need, cock straining in Buck’s grip, every nerve alight. The clamps pulled again, sharp, blinding, and he screamed, voice breaking on Buck’s name.

 

“You feel that?” Buck’s voice was a velvet snarl against his ear, lips brushing the damp skin of his temple.

 

“Sir, please—fuck, I’m begging you—”

 

“That’s right,” Buck purred, twisting the knife of it, his strokes still deliberate, relentless. “Beg for me. Beg like you mean it. Tell me what you are without me.”

 

“I’m—” Eddie choked, words tumbling out between ragged breaths, broken sobs. “I’m yours, I’m nothing without you, I can’t—please, I can’t hold it anymore, Sir, please let me—”

 

His blindfold was soaked, cheeks wet, the world narrowed to the unbearable pull of Buck’s hand and the fire of the clamps. He was undone, wrecked, everything he was funneled into this one trembling, desperate plea.

 

Buck’s hand slowed just enough to make him scream again, denial cutting sharper than the clamps.

 

“Not yet,” Buck whispered, cruel and tender all at once. “Not until I know you’re mine.”

 

“I’m yours!” Eddie cried, loud, hoarse, unrestrained. “Yours, Sir, only yours, please—”

 

The sound of Buck’s satisfied hum vibrated through him like another kind of touch, a promise, a claim.

 

“Good boy,” Buck finally growled, voice all steel and fire. His fist tightened, strokes ruthless again, clamps tugged one last time, sending Eddie’s body into pure chaos. “Now. Come for me. Show me who owns you.”

 

The permission hit him like a blade through silk, leaving him no chance to brace. Eddie’s body seized, every muscle locking against the ropes as Buck’s hand dragged him mercilessly over the edge.

 

The first pulse ripped through him like fire, tearing a hoarse moan from his throat. It was too much, pleasure so violent it tipped into pain, every nerve burning, every vein lit up like lightning. He bucked helplessly against the binds, against Buck’s unrelenting grip, spilling over his fist in hot, endless waves.

 

The clamps tugged again at the peak, pain and release colliding so explosively that Eddie’s mind went white. His breath stopped, vision drowned in sparks beneath the blindfold, and then, just for a heartbeat, nothing.

 

When he came back to himself, awareness trickling back in, the first thing Eddie felt was Buck’s hand on his face, gentle and grounding, brushing back sweat-damp strands from his forehead. The blindfold was gone, the room dim but not spinning anymore, and Buck’s blue eyes were right there, steady and warm.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie gasped, voice shredded, though it barely sounded like him at all. He sagged against the restraints, spent and broken open, clinging to the sound of Buck’s breathing close beside him.

 

“There you are,” Buck murmured, voice soft as silk. His thumb stroke Eddie’s cheek, coaxing him back. “Welcome back, baby. You did so good for me. So fucking good.”

 

Eddie blinked up at him, dazed, chest heaving, and Buck leaned in, pressing his forehead against Eddie’s, breathing them both through it. The ropes shifted as Buck’s hands moved, not with the sharp precision from earlier, but with slow, careful intent. Knot by knot, loop by loop, he freed him, murmuring sweet nothings the whole time.

 

“That’s it, relax for me… I’ve got you… every breath, baby, that’s mine too… I’m right here.”

 

The pressure eased as the ropes loosened, leaving faint red trails across Eddie’s skin. Buck’s lips pressed soft kisses against his temple, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, steadying him as sensation returned. Buck eased him higher onto the bed, guiding Eddie until he was lying back against the pillows. His hands were steady, even as Eddie’s limbs trembled, rope-burned skin flushed and marked.

 

“Stay right here, baby,” Buck whispered, brushing his lips over Eddie’s temple.

 

The absence of his warmth was immediate, but only for a moment. Buck turned back to him with a bottle of water, sliding an arm behind Eddie’s shoulders to lift him up enough to drink.

 

“Small sips,” Buck murmured, holding the glass to his lips. Eddie obeyed, swallowing slowly, the cool water soothing the rawness in his throat. Buck pressed a kiss to his hairline as he lowered him back down. “Good boy.”

 

Then Buck’s hands were roaming again, but differently now—gentle, reverent, tracing over every rope mark, every reddened line. He leaned in to kiss along Eddie’s wrists where the ties had bitten deepest, then his shoulders, his chest, following the trails the ropes had left behind.

 

“Look at you,” Buck whispered, voice low with awe. “So beautiful like this. Marked up all over for me.” He pressed a kiss to a welt on Eddie’s thigh, another to the faint burn across his ribs. “I’ll take care of every single one.”

 

Eddie melted beneath the attention, eyes heavy, a soft sound escaping when Buck’s lips found the spots where the clamps had bitten hardest. Buck lingered there, kissing gently, tongue soothing the abused skin until Eddie shivered.

 

When he was done checking, Buck pulled the comforter up around them both, cocooning Eddie in warmth. He gathered him close, arms wrapped tight around him like he was afraid to let go. Eddie could feel Buck’s tented boxers and shirt against him, but his brain didn’t process the information.

 

“You with me?” Buck asked softly, brushing his nose against Eddie’s hair.

 

Eddie hummed, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite his exhaustion. “Yeah. I’m here.”

 

“Good.” Buck kissed the crown of his head, rocking them gently. “That was a lot. You gave me everything, and you were perfect. I’m so in love with you, Eddie.”

 

Eddie’s eyes fluttered shut, body sinking deeper into Buck’s hold, the words settling into him like balm. He let himself drift, safe and cherished, Buck’s warmth and steady heartbeat the last things he felt before sleep claimed him.

Chapter 33

Notes:

ugh they are so cute

Buck sighed.

 

The kitchen was too small for how much he was trying to do in it. He moved from counter to stove with the kind of restless energy that never really left him, stirring one pot, reaching for the oven mitts, checking timers he didn’t need to check again. His forearm brushed flour across his shirt without him noticing.

 

Chim had excused himself twenty minutes ago, taking a drowsy Jee-Yun away for her bedtime routine. Buck had waved him off with an almost manic cheer, insisting he had everything handled, even though Maddie had warned him she wasn’t sure their parents cared if the roast was perfect or not.

 

But that was the thing. If he kept moving, if he kept cooking, maybe he wouldn’t have to think about how tonight would feel.

 

“Buck,” Maddie’s voice came from the side of their kitchen island, warm and steady. Her hands rested over the swell of her stomach, a gesture she did without realizing these days. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor.”

 

“I’m fine,” Buck said too quickly, turning to the cutting board like the bell peppers had personally insulted him. He chopped, fast and precise, as if dinner depended on symmetrical slices.

 

Maddie stepped in, the corners of her mouth curving in that way she had when she knew he wasn’t fine. “You don’t have to earn their love with dinner.”

 

His hands stilled on the knife. For a moment, all the kitchen noise dropped away. He shrugged, shoulders tight. “It’s not about that.”

 

“Sure it isn’t.”

 

He glanced at her, and her raised eyebrows were enough to undo him. A helpless laugh escaped his throat quietly. “Okay, maybe a little.”

 

Maddie moved closer, resting a hand on his arm. “Hey. It’s you and me, remember? We’ve been through worse dinners than this. United front, no matter what.”

 

Something in his chest loosened. He set the knife down and turned fully toward her. “United front.” He stuck out his pinky.

 

She grinned, hooking hers through his. “Always.”

 

The doorbell rang before either of them could say more. Buck’s stomach dropped, but Maddie squeezed his pinky once before letting go. She straightened, smoothing her shirt over the curve of her stomach, and headed toward the door.

 

Buck lingered in the kitchen, staring at the bright strips of bell pepper scattered across the cutting board. He forced himself to move again, to finish the task. The peppers slid into the salad bowl with a soft scrape, a splash of color against the greens. He reached for the vinaigrette he’d whisked earlier and drizzled it over the top, tossing the salad with quick, practiced movements. One more dish done. One more distraction.

 

From the entryway, he heard Maddie’s warm, careful voice. “Hi, Mom. Dad. Come in.”

 

Their parents’ murmured greetings carried through the house, shoes clicking softly against the floor as Maddie led them inside. The open layout left little space for Buck to hide, so he set the salad down on the counter and turned toward them.

 

His mom reached him first, her perfume familiar and faintly sharp. She leaned in to kiss his cheek, her lips cool against his skin. “Hello, Evan,” she said, voice clipped in that way that always made him stand a little straighter. Then, her gaze flicked down, her mouth twitching. “You’ve got flour on your shirt.”

 

Buck glanced at the pale smear across his chest. “Yeah,” he muttered, noncommittal, before humming something that might have been a laugh. "I uh, I made bread." He rubbed at the spot, though it only smudged worse, and retreated a step back toward the kitchen like it might shield him.

 

His dad gave him a brief, solid hug, pat on the back, quick release. A formality, almost. Buck returned it, polite but distant, before finding refuge behind the counter again.

 

Just then, Chim appeared, brushing his hands together as if to signal completion. “And she’s out like a light,” he said cheerfully. “Perfect timing.”

 

He crossed the room in a few easy strides, offering his in-laws both a hug. “Margaret. Phillip. Good to see you both. Glad you could make it.”

 

While Maddie made their parents sit on the couch and they engaged in light conversation, Chim slipped into motion, pulling plates and silverware from the cupboards. “I’ll set the table,” he said over his shoulder, already arranging things with quiet efficiency.

 

Buck focused on finishing the last few details. The salad in its serving bowl, the roast transferred to a platter, the rolls in a basket lined with a cloth. He stacked everything neatly, lining up edges that didn’t need to be lined, until the kitchen smelled warm and ready. Dinner was done. No more distractions. Which meant all that was left was… dinner itself.

 

They sat down together at the table, the warm dishes filling the air with comforting smells. Maddie eased into her chair carefully, and Chim was quick to slide her a cushion, fussing until she swatted him with a fond smile. Their parents offered polite compliments about the spread, and Buck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

 

For a little while, it wasn’t bad. Conversation stayed surface-level: how the drive over had been, how lovely Jee’s latest drawings were, how Maddie was feeling with the pregnancy. Buck let his fork scrape over his plate and listened, nodding where it made sense, throwing in the occasional, “Yeah, she’s been talking up a storm lately,” when Jee-Yun came up. He was content to keep quiet.

 

It was almost easy.

 

Until it wasn’t.

 

His mom reached for her glass of water, her eyes softening as they flicked to Maddie. “You’re really glowing, sweetheart. I still can’t believe you’re giving us our second grandchild.” She beamed, but then her gaze shifted to Buck. “And when are you going to give us some grandchildren, Evan?”

 

The bite of roast turned to dust in his mouth.

 

He forced a small shrug, not trusting himself to answer, but Maddie spoke before the silence stretched too long. Her voice was firm, light, and deliberate. “Mom, let’s not put that on him. Buck’s happy where he is, and that’s enough.”

 

His mother’s brows lifted. “Oh, of course,” she said quickly, though something lingered in her tone. Then, with a curious tilt of her head, she added, “But I heard you’re seeing someone at work, aren’t you? A colleague? What was their name again?”

 

Buck felt his spine straighten before he even realized he was moving. “Eddie,” he said, steady and certain, like the word itself was something worth protecting.

 

“Oh.” The syllable dropped, small but heavy. His mom’s smile twitched, like she was unsure how much to adjust it. “Well, that’s nice. But… I suppose Eddie can’t—” She stopped herself, but the unfinished thought hung there anyway, obvious.

 

Buck’s jaw clenched. His fork scraped against his plate as he set it down a little too hard.

 

Maddie leaned forward, her hand slipping under the table to squeeze his. “Mom,” she said, sharp enough to cut through the air. “Families don’t all look the same. You know that.”

 

Their dad cleared his throat, shifting in his chair. Chim, sensing the way the room had gone brittle, jumped in smoothly. “Speaking of families, did you see Jee’s finger painting of the firetruck I sent last week? She insisted on putting Buck in the driver’s seat.”

 

The tension broke just enough for a few polite laughs, but Buck didn’t miss the way Maddie’s thumb rubbed across his knuckles beneath the table, grounding him. He breathed out, long and slow, and forced himself to take another bite.

 

He kept going, because that’s what he always did.

 

The conversation limped back into safer waters, though Buck could still feel the echo of what hadn’t been said rattling around the table. He chewed, swallowed, nodded in the right places, his free hand tightening around the edge of his napkin until the fabric twisted.

 

“So,” his dad said after a pause, his tone deliberately casual, “work’s been keeping you busy, Evan?”

 

Buck nodded. “Yeah. We’ve had a lot of calls lately. Keeps me on my toes.” He left it there, short, neutral.

 

His mom smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite soften her eyes. “Well, at least it keeps you out of trouble. You were always such a restless child. Maddie was our steady one, weren’t you, dear?”

 

The words landed sharper than they probably meant to. Buck’s stomach clenched, but he kept his head down, stabbing a piece of carrot.

 

Maddie jumped in before he had to say anything again. “Restless is what makes him good at his job, Mom. You should’ve seen how the kids at Jee’s daycare lit up when he showed them the firetruck the other day. They think he’s a superhero.”

 

Chim grinned, always ready to back her up. “They’re not wrong. Buck’s basically the cool uncle of the entire department.”

 

Heat crept up Buck’s neck, and he ducked his head with a half-smile. Compliments always sat awkward on him, but with Maddie and Chim framing it like that, he could almost believe it.

 

Dinner carried on in fits and starts. His mom asked after Maddie’s nursery plans, offering suggestions that Maddie politely deflected. His dad remarked on the roast, which Buck had overcooked by a shade, though the praise was quiet and almost perfunctory. Buck kept moving through it, bite by bite, word by word.

 

When his mom circled back, it came so offhandedly Buck almost missed it. “It’s just such a shame, though,” she said, folding her napkin neatly. “You’d be a wonderful father, Evan. Children love you. It’s just, well...” She gave a little shrug, as though that said enough.

 

The words stung, hot and blunt. He pressed his lips together, staring down at his plate.

 

Maddie set her fork down with a soft clink. “Mom.” Her tone brooked no argument. “That’s not fair. He is wonderful with kids, and what his future looks like is up to him, not anyone else’s expectations.”

 

For once, even Chim didn’t bother softening the edge. “You should see him with Jee. She adores him. Honestly, I think she listens to Buck more than she listens to me.”

 

Buck’s chest squeezed at that. He forced a small smile, grateful, though he couldn’t quite lift his eyes from the table. But before the silence could stretch too long, he found himself speaking, his voice steadier than he felt.

 

“You know,” he said, cleaning his mouth with his napkin carefully, “Eddie and I could adopt if we wanted to. Biological kids aren’t the only way to give you grandchildren.”

 

The words hung in the air. His mom blinked, surprised, then pursed her lips. “Well, yes, but adoption is a big commitment. You’d have to be careful, Evan. I mean, the last time you dated a man it barely lasted six months.”

 

Heat flooded his face, embarrassment flaring into something sharper. His pulse pounded in his ears, and before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out.

 

“Yeah, well. Eddie and I are getting married.”

 

The table went still.

 

“What?” Maddie asked, her voice pitching higher than usual. Chim’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. Even his parents just stared.

 

Buck blinked, realizing what he’d just said. His mouth worked uselessly for a second. “I mean… uh, we... I’m going to ask him to marry me,” he corrected, stumbling over the words. “I haven’t yet, but… I will. Soon.”

 

The silence stretched, confusion and surprise rippling across every face.

 

Maddie was the first to move. She pushed her chair back and stood, clapping her hands together with forced brightness. “Okay. Who wants dessert?”

 

*

 

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation, the kind that skimmed the surface and never quite touched the tension still humming beneath. Buck laughed when it seemed appropriate, answered questions about work, nodded when his parents mentioned he should stop by tomorrow before heading home. It was fine. Not easy, but fine.

 

When the clock crept later, Buck pushed his chair back and cleared his throat. “I should head out. Early shift tomorrow.” He turned toward his parents, forcing a small smile. “I’ll probably see you tomorrow, though.”

 

His mom patted his arm as she stood. His dad gave him another brisk hug. Maddie caught his sleeve on his way to the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

 

The cool night air was a relief after being in the same room as his parents for hours. Buck shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, rocking on his heels as Maddie closed the door behind them. She was quiet for a moment, just studying him with that steady, knowing look.

 

Then her mouth curved, half amusement, half disbelief. “So. You and Eddie are getting married?”

 

Buck winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… that kind of came out, didn’t it?”

 

Maddie let out a laugh, soft but incredulous. “You think? You didn’t even tell me first.”

 

“I know.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “It wasn’t… planned. I just—Mom kept talking like I couldn’t have what she thinks counts as a family, and I couldn’t let her—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It just slipped out.”

 

Maddie’s expression softened. She reached up, brushing her hand over his shoulder. “I get it. And hey, little brother, I’m glad it slipped out. But I have to ask, because it’s my job as your older sister. Are you sure?”

 

His chest tightened, but this time it wasn’t with doubt. He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah. I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

 

Her grin widened, eyes bright. “Then I can’t wait to see his face when you ask him.”

 

Buck laughed, tension bleeding out of him. Maddie squeezed herself against him in a hug, before opening the door again.

 

“Now go home and get some sleep,” she said firmly. “You’ve got an early shift, remember?”

 

Buck rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest stayed with him as he stepped out into the night. His footsteps crunched against the driveway gravel as he made his way to the car. The night air was cool, grounding, and for the first time all evening, his shoulders loosened. He slid behind the wheel and let out a long breath, hands resting on the steering wheel.

 

They knew now.

 

It wasn’t how he planned it, hell, it wasn’t planned at all, but the words were out there. Maddie, Chim, even his parents. And yeah, the shock had been obvious, but… none of them had pushed back. No disgust. No disappointment. Just surprise. And somehow, that made it easier. Like the weight of carrying the secret alone had shifted, spread out, not all on him anymore.

 

By the time he pulled up in front of Eddie’s house, the knot in his chest had eased enough that he could almost breathe normally again. The lights inside glowed soft and warm through the curtains. He let himself in quietly, careful out of habit not to wake Christopher.

 

“I’m here,” Eddie called from the living room, his voice low and casual. “How’d it go?”

 

Buck rounded the corner and found him stretched out on the couch, the flicker of the TV painting his face in pale light. He didn’t answer. Instead, he dropped down, sprawling full weight across Eddie, burying his face in the warm curve of his neck.

 

Eddie huffed out a laugh, his hand coming up instinctively to rub soothing circles along Buck’s back. “That bad, huh?”

 

Buck just groaned into his skin, not lifting his head, not moving, like he had no intention of ever getting up again.

 

Eddie shifted a little to make room, adjusting them both until Buck fit against him just right. His hand never stopped moving over Buck’s back, steady and grounding.

 

Buck stayed there, pressed into Eddie’s shoulder, until the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest calmed the last of the buzzing in his head. The TV droned on in the background, some forgettable show, but Eddie didn’t seem to care. His whole focus was on Buck, fingers carding slow patterns against his back, his neck, through his hair.

 

Eventually, Buck mumbled, voice muffled against Eddie’s skin, “They started out fine. Talking about Maddie, about the baby. Normal stuff.”

 

Eddie hummed, patient, waiting.

 

“And then—” Buck exhaled sharply, pulling back just enough to glance at him. “My mom asked me when I was gonna give them grandchildren.”

 

Eddie’s brows lifted, his hand pausing for a second before settling back into its rhythm. “Wow.” His voice was dry, but there was no judgment in it, just quiet solidarity.

 

Buck huffed out a humorless laugh and dropped his forehead back against Eddie’s collarbone. “Maddie jumped in, thank God. And Chim tried to steer it away. But then my mom asked about you, ‘what’s his name again?’, like she didn’t even care enough to remember.”

 

Eddie’s chest rumbled with a low, steady sound that wasn’t quite words. His arms tightened around Buck, pulling him closer.

 

“And then she said…” Buck swallowed, the memory still sharp. “She said it was a shame I’d be such a good dad but, you know, ‘well’.” His voice cracked on the word, bitter and small.

 

For a moment, Eddie said nothing. He just held him tighter, fingers threading into his hair. When he finally spoke, his tone was even but firm. “She’s wrong. You already are good with kids. You’re good with Chris. You’re the best partner I could ask for. On and off the job. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”

 

The words hit Buck deep, unravelling something knotted tight inside. He pressed in closer, hiding the sting in his eyes against Eddie’s neck. “You make it sound so simple.”

 

Eddie’s lips brushed his temple, light as a whisper. “Because it is. You don’t need to prove anything to them. You just need to be you. That’s enough.”

 

Buck let the words sink in, heavy and healing all at once. He stayed where he was, letting Eddie’s steady touch anchor him, until Buck felt his lungs match the rhythm.

 

“Besides,” Eddie said after a beat, amusement threading through his voice, “we’re gonna adopt a chubby little baby girl, remember?”

 

That tugged a startled laugh out of Buck. He lifted his head enough to see Eddie’s face, mischief in his grin, eyes bright with a certainty that made Buck’s chest ache.

 

God. This ridiculous, steady, amazing man was in love with him. With him.

 

The realization hit like a punch, sharp and breathtaking.

 

Eddie’s grin softened into something gentler, something just for him, and Buck couldn’t stop himself. He leaned in and kissed him, murmuring against his lips, “Fuck. I love you so much it’s actually scary.”

 

Eddie chuckled, the sound warm and low. “Good. Because I feel the exact same way.”

 

Buck laid down again, resting his cheek on Eddie’s chest.

 

“You know,” Eddie murmured, wiggling slightly, “you’re really heavy.”

 

Buck raised an eyebrow, still pressed against him. “Heavy? That’s rich coming from someone who eats all the cookies in the pantry and calls it training.”

 

Eddie snorted. “I’m not even joking. I could use a forklift for this.” He nudged a finger in Buck's side, making him spasm a little. 

 

Buck pushed up a little, just enough to look down at him again, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Or maybe you just can’t handle the fact that I have more muscles than you.”

 

“Muscles?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed, pretending to be offended. “These aren’t muscles. These are adorable attempts at intimidation.”

 

Buck laughed, head tipping back against Eddie’s shoulder. “Oh, adorable attempts at intimidation? Sounds like you’re impressed, then.”

 

“Maybe I am,” Eddie admitted with a small, sly grin. “But mostly, I’m just concerned about my poor back.”

 

Buck leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s jaw. “You’ve got me, though. I’ll make sure you’re supported.”

 

Eddie huffed a laugh and tugged Buck down slightly so he was draped over him again. “Supported, huh? That’s one way to put it. But fair warning: if you’re going to be this clingy all the time, I’m going to have to start charging rent.”

 

Buck rolled his eyes, smirking despite himself. “Fine, but only if you promise to let me pay in kisses.”

 

“I think I can manage that,” Eddie said, brushing a hand through Buck’s hair. “Though with your appetite for affection, we might need a bigger couch.”

 

Buck laughed, a breathy, happy sound. “You’re ridiculous.”

 

“And you love it,” Eddie replied immediately, smug but entirely sincere.

 

Buck pressed his face into Eddie’s neck again, letting the warmth and laughter wrap around him like a blanket. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I really, really do.”

 

Eddie kissed the top of his head, humming.

 

Buck shifted slightly, resting more comfortably against Eddie’s chest, and let out a long breath. “You know,” he said, voice muffled against the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, “dinner wasn’t as bad as I thought… but wow, my mom can really say things without even realizing how much they sting.”

 

Eddie chuckled, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. “Sounds like your mom hasn’t changed much.”

 

Buck pushed his face into Eddie’s neck again, letting himself relax. “Nope. But it’s weird… when they weren’t even shocked about us, it didn’t feel bad. I don’t know why, but it actually kind of put me at ease.”

 

Eddie hummed, a small, pleased sound. “See? That’s progress. They’re much better than my parents.”

 

A short silence fell between them.

 

“Hey,” Eddie said, voice playful, “maybe you should’ve been clearer. Couldn’t have been that obvious.”

 

“Oh really?” Buck teased back, poking him gently in the side. “Because last I checked, you’re the one I have to convince to handle all this charm and muscle.”

 

Eddie pretended to recoil, hand flying to his ribs. “Muscle, huh? That’s your excuse for pressing all your weight onto me?”

 

“Exactly,” Buck said, grinning, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m basically a gift. Heavy, strong, and ridiculously adorable.”

 

Eddie laughed, shaking his head. “Gift… I think more like a disaster wrapped in charm.”

 

“Disaster?” Buck groaned dramatically, draping his arm over Eddie’s chest. “I prefer unpredictable force of nature.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, though he didn’t move Buck off him. “Force of nature, huh? Careful, or I might start charging rent for this couch.”

 

Buck snorted. “Fine. But payment’s in kisses. And cuddles. And maybe the occasional blowjob.”

 

“Yeah?” Eddie murmured, clearly interested.

 

“Down boy,” Buck laughed.

 

Eddie narrowed his eyes at him. 

 

Buck leaned closer, grinning, and Eddie’s eyes flickered with mischief before he gave a sharp push. Buck yelped and tumbled to the side, sprawling dramatically onto the floor.

 

“Ah! Betrayal!” Buck wailed, flailing his arms like he’d just been struck by some terrible injustice. “I can’t believe you! After all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?!”

 

Eddie laughed, loud and warm, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.” He crouched beside him, mock offense written all over his face. “Absolutely ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m dating someone this dramatic.”

 

Buck sat up, hands thrown in the air, glaring up at him with exaggerated indignation. “Dramatic?! Me?! You just pushed me to the floor! That’s—” He flopped back down again, “that’s emotional trauma, Eddie!”

 

Eddie chuckled, leaning down to ruffle Buck’s hair. “You’re lucky I love you, or I’d actually make you sleep on the floor.”

 

Buck rolled his eyes, trying to hide a grin, then poked Eddie in the ribs again. “I should probably call Athena and tell her about this abuse. Involve the police.”

 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Eddie said, standing and extending a hand to help him up. “Come on, drama king. Let’s go to bed. Early shift tomorrow, remember?”

 

Buck groaned, letting Eddie haul him to his feet, leaning heavily against him as they made their way toward the bedroom. “Fine, fine… but you owe me at least three kisses for that betrayal.”

 

Eddie smirked over his shoulder. “Deal. But only if you promise not to act like you’re dying every time I touch you.”

 

Buck grinned, shaking his head. “No promises.”

 

And with that, they disappeared into the bedroom, laughter trailing behind them as the TV flickered quietly in the living room.

 

*

 

The fire had already gutted half the building by the time they arrived.

 

It roared with a violence Buck never got used to, no matter how many times he ran into burning buildings. Smoke choked the sky, turning midday into night, and every breath was heat and ash. The comms were alive with shouting, directions, pleas, numbers shouted over the roar. Too many trapped. Too many unaccounted for.

 

Buck didn’t stop moving. He couldn’t.

 

His turnout gear was already coated in soot, the sweat beneath his mask stinging his eyes. He pushed through a hallway that was more smoke than structure, his flashlight beam cutting through just enough to catch movement. A body.

 

“Hey! Hey, I’ve got you!” Buck dropped to his knees, shoving debris aside. It was a boy, sixteen, maybe seventeen, curled up against a wall, coughing weakly. Too young to be here alone. Too young, period.

 

“Come on, kid,” Buck urged, hauling him up, slinging the boy’s arm over his shoulders. He could feel how light he was, like carrying Christopher after another growth spurt. But wrong, so wrong. “We’re getting out of here.”

 

The building groaned, a sound Buck’s bones knew all too well. He gritted his teeth, adjusted his hold, and ran.

 

By the time he stumbled through what used to be a doorway and into the chaos outside, the boy had gone limp in his arms.

 

“Got one!” Buck’s voice cracked through the mask. He laid the kid down as gently as he could on the blackened asphalt, his own chest heaving, lungs screaming for clean air.

 

Hen was there instantly, gloves already moving. Chim knelt across from her, eyes sharp, voice steady. “No pulse. Starting compressions.”

 

Buck tore his mask off, coughing hard, tasting smoke and copper. He sat back on his heels, unable to tear his eyes away as Hen tilted the boy’s head back, as Chim’s hands pressed down on his chest. Countless times, Buck had done the same, had been the one to keep someone alive through sheer stubbornness.

 

But this time… Hen’s face was grim, her motions clinical, precise. Chim didn’t falter. But Buck knew. He’d felt it in the boy’s slack weight, in the silence that clung even as the world burned.

 

“Come on,” Buck whispered, too soft to hear over the chaos. His fists pressed against his thighs, knuckles white. “Come on, kid. Don’t do this.”

 

A beat later, Hen’s eyes met Chim’s. She gave the smallest shake of her head. Chim sat back, exhaling hard, his shoulders heavy.

 

Black tag.

 

Buck’s stomach hollowed out. The fire raged behind him, sirens wailed, people screamed, but all he saw was a teenager, soot-streaked, skin gray, forever frozen on the asphalt.

 

He felt sick. He felt furious. He felt like he’d failed, even though he knew he’d done everything he could.

 

Bobby’s voice crackled over the radio, calling for status reports, for counts. More victims. More rescues needed. The job wasn’t done.

 

Buck dragged a filthy glove over his face, smearing soot, trying to breathe past the tightness in his chest. His body wanted to collapse beside the boy and never move again, but he forced himself to stand.

 

The world didn’t stop for grief. Not here.

 

He took one last look at the teenager, someone’s son, someone’s whole world, before turning back toward the flames.

 

And then he ran back in, Ravi was at his side immediately. They had both heard that there were multiple victims on the third floor.

 

Inside again, he worked on autopilot. A woman trapped under fallen beams—he braced, heaved, and Ravi pulled her free. A pair of kids huddled in a bathtub—he scooped them up, one under each arm, ignoring the burn of the smoke. He handed them off to Hen at the triage line and went back for more.

 

Each time he emerged, another stretcher rolled past, another life on the edge, another black tag laid gently aside. The scene was a nightmare of wailing sirens, sobbing families, fire hoses cutting through smoke that refused to lift.

 

But Buck didn’t falter. He couldn’t afford to. He pushed, he carried, he dug people out from beneath charred beams with bare hands when the tools weren’t enough. He heard Bobby’s orders, heard Chim’s clipped updates, Hen’s voice calling for more supplies, felt Ravi tap him whenever he needed help. He wondered where Eddie was and silently hoped he was fine.

 

Hours blurred. His body screamed for rest, but his mind stayed locked in, focused. One more trip. One more rescue.

 

When the flames were finally beaten back and the last survivors pulled out, Buck stood at the edge of the wreck, soot-streaked and shaking. He scanned the tags. Yellow. Red. Black. Too many of the last one. Always too many. His chest ached when his eyes landed on the boy he’d carried out first, still lying under a tarp, soot smudged across too-young skin.

 

The fire was finally out, but the devastation clung to everything, the air, the ground, their skin. Smoke still curled upward in ghostly tendrils as Buck pulled off his helmet, setting it down beside his feet. His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of his turnout gear.

 

“Hey,” came Eddie’s voice, low and soft, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile quiet Buck had wrapped himself in.

 

Buck turned his head. Eddie was streaked in soot, eyes shadowed, jaw tight. But alive. Whole. Buck gave him a small nod, his own voice rough when he managed, “Hey.”

 

For a moment, they just looked at each other, two men standing in the wreckage, carrying too much inside. Eddie’s gaze flicked over him, a silent question: You okay?

 

Buck nodded once. Then, because he knew Eddie was asking more than he was saying, he returned it. “You?”

 

Eddie blew out a breath, glanced at the line of tarps, then back at him. “Yeah.” It wasn’t the truth, not really, but it was the only answer there was.

 

Together, they walked back toward the truck, Hen and Ravi falling into step beside them. Chim trailed a few paces behind, unusually quiet. Bobby was already there, helmet tucked under one arm, speaking briefly into his radio before lifting his eyes to his team. No words were exchanged. There didn’t need to be.

 

They climbed into the truck, the ride back suffocating in its silence. No banter, no music, just the hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, exhaustion pressing down heavier than their gear. They were far into overtime, but no one said a word about it.

 

By the time they rolled into the station, the world outside had shifted from afternoon sun to the navy blue of late evening. Buck flexed his hands as he climbed down, grimacing at the ache in his shoulders. He thought about Maddie, about their parents still at their house, about the promise he’d made last night.

 

Chim was moving stiffly, his usual easy grin nowhere to be found. Buck caught his eye. “We’ll clean up a little, then I’ll drive you,” he murmured. Chim nodded wordlessly, grateful.

 

Buck peeled off most of his gear in the locker room, wiping at the worst of the soot with a towel, knowing a real shower would have to wait until he was home. Beside him, Chim did the same. The air smelled of smoke and fatigue.

 

Before Buck could follow Chim out, Eddie appeared in the doorway. His eyes softened when they landed on Buck, and in two strides he was close enough to press a kiss to his temple, quick, quiet, grounding.

 

Buck let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a tiny bit of the weight easing. He gave Eddie’s wrist a squeeze in silent thanks.

 

“Go on,” Eddie said gently. “I’ll see you at home.”

 

Buck nodded, pecking him softly on the lips, before he fell into step beside Chim. Together they headed for Buck’s jeep.

 

Roughly twenty minutes later, Buck pulled his jeep into Maddie and Chim’s driveway, the moon shining brightly in the sky. It was a little past ten, the kind of tired that settled into his bones making every movement feel heavier than it should’ve. Chim gave him a weary smile before they both climbed out, their boots crunching against the pavement.

 

The porch light was on. Warm, inviting. Buck almost felt guilty stepping into it covered in soot and smoke.

 

Maddie opened the door before they could even knock. Her eyes swept over them both, quick but thorough. Buck knew the look well. It was the one she’d always worn when she caught sight of him after a bad call. Relief first. Then concern. And beneath it all, resignation, like she knew there was only so much she could do.

 

“You’re late,” she murmured, but the softness in her voice stripped the words of any sting. She reached out, brushing some ash from Chim’s cheek, then glanced at Buck. “Rough one?”

 

Buck only nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to put words to it.

 

They stepped inside, and the familiar sound of their parents’ voices reached them before they rounded the corner into the living room. His mother and father were sitting on the couch, glasses of wine in hand, conversation with each other half-finished.

 

The moment his mom spotted Buck, her face shifted. Shock, then worry. The wineglass clinked against the table as she stood. “Evan.”

 

His parents stalked over to stop in front of him, looking him over with large eyes and concern etched into their faces.

 

Buck froze. He’d expected Maddie’s calm, practiced acceptance of how he looked after a shift like this. He hadn’t expected his parents to react at all, let alone like this.

 

“You’re covered in…” His father trailed off, eyes narrowing at the soot smeared across Buck’s face, his shirt still streaked with grime. “Are you hurt?”

 

“No,” Buck said quickly, holding up his hands as though to stop their concern from rolling toward him. “I’m fine. Just…long day.”

 

His mother stepped closer, frowning in a way that made Buck feel twelve years old again—only… she had never cared when he had been twelve. “You don’t look fine. Your eyes are red, you’re exhausted. You should sit down.”

 

Buck blinked, caught off guard. His parents had never cornered him with worry before, not like this. Usually, it was Maddie who asked if he’d eaten, or Eddie who shoved a bottle of water into his hand. Never them.

 

“I, uh,” Buck stammered, running a hand through his messy hair and leaving another streak of soot behind. “I just wanted to say sorry. I promised I’d come by, but I can’t stay. I really need a shower, and… it’s been a day.”

 

His mom pressed her lips together, clearly unsatisfied. His dad hovered at her side, equally unsettled. For the first time, Buck realized they were genuinely worried about him. Not disappointed. Not disapproving. Worried.

 

It threw him completely off balance.

 

“I’m okay,” he said again, softer this time, almost more to himself than to them. His gaze darted toward Maddie, and she gave him the faintest nod of reassurance, her eyes warm and knowing. She’d seen this version of him too many times not to understand. “Really,” he added, straighter now, firmer. “I promise.”

 

Maddie seemed to sense the moment Buck’s balance tipped. She slipped in between him and their parents with all the subtlety of a seasoned big sister.

 

“Okay,” she said firmly, her voice light but decisive. “That’s enough interrogation for one night. He just came off shift, and he needs a shower. Don’t you, Evan?”

 

Buck shot her a grateful look, already backing toward the door. “Yeah. Definitely. Thanks, Mads.”

 

His mother, however, wasn’t done. “At least promise us one thing,” she pressed. “Lunch tomorrow. We want to… meet this Eddie of yours. Officially.”

 

The words landed like a stone in Buck’s stomach. His parents… interested? In Eddie? The suddenness of it left him blinking, thrown. He opened his mouth, ready to stall, to think of an excuse, but Maddie’s eyes flicked to him, warning but supportive.

 

“Okay,” Buck said finally, forcing a small nod. “Lunch tomorrow. I’ll bring him.”

 

His mother seemed satisfied. Dad gave a stiff smile. Maddie’s hand brushed his arm as if to say go. And Buck did.

 

The hum of the jeep’s engine filled the silence, but inside his head it was anything but quiet.

 

They’d only paid attention because they thought he was hurt.

 

That same sick pattern, replaying itself decades later. Buck could still remember being a kid, scraping his knees bloody on purpose because it guaranteed Mom’s hand would cup his cheek, Dad’s voice would soften just a little. A few minutes of warmth, traded for pain.

 

He’d thought he’d left that behind. He had left it behind. Years of self-destructive stunts, calmed and straightened out with Frank’s patient guidance. He didn’t jump off cliffs for attention anymore. He didn’t chase adrenaline just to be seen.

 

So why did this feel like the same damn story, only older? Why did it sting that their concern had been so conditional, sparked not by who he was, not by the life he’d built, not by Eddie, but by soot on his face and red eyes from a fire he couldn’t save a kid from?

 

His chest tightened, and for a second the urge to shove the thoughts down, bury them under silence, rose strong. But Frank’s voice came back, steady as ever: Don’t suppress. Acknowledge. Sit with it.

 

“Fine,” Buck muttered to the empty jeep. “I care. Apparently, I still care.”

 

He focused on the coping tools Frank had drilled into him. He named five things he could see: the streetlights sliding by, the slightly cracked leather of the steering wheel, the soot-streaked turnout pants on the passenger seat, the glow of Eddie’s neighborhood drawing closer, the faint reflection of his own tired face in the window.

 

Four things he could touch: the worn ridges of the steering wheel beneath his palms, the grit of ash still clinging to his skin, the fabric of his seat belt digging across his chest, the cool metal of his watch pressing into his wrist.

 

Three things he could hear: the steady rumble of the jeep's engine, the honk of a car on the other side of the road, laughter from a group of friends passing by.

 

Two things he could smell: the acrid cling of smoke still in his clothes, the faint hint of leather from the seats.

 

One thing he could taste: the metallic tang of ash still caught in the back of his throat.

 

His breath eased out, slower this time. It didn’t fix the knot inside his chest, but it gave him just enough space to keep driving. To keep going. He turned onto Eddie’s street, headlights catching on the familiar front steps. Relief stirred low in his gut, tentative but real. Home.

 

He felt his shoulders sag the moment he saw the porch light on. Eddie was there, leaning against the doorframe in pajama bottoms and a faded t-shirt, arms folded like he’d been waiting all night.

 

Buck parked, killed the engine, and the quiet hit him like a wave. He got out slowly, clothes still streaked with soot, hair stiff with ash. Eddie’s eyes softened the second they landed on him.

 

“Hey,” he said quietly.

 

“Hey,” Buck echoed, voice rough. His throat still tasted like smoke.

 

Eddie stepped forward without another word, guiding Buck inside with a hand in his. Christopher was asleep, the house silent but for the faint hum of the fridge, and Eddie didn’t let go until they were in the bathroom.

 

“Let’s get you out of this,” Eddie murmured, fingers already tugging at Buck’s jacket, then his shirt. The fabric peeled away, dusting flakes of ash onto the floor. Buck didn’t argue. He just let Eddie strip him down, piece by piece, until he was standing in boxers, skin streaked gray and black.

 

Eddie’s touch was gentle but firm. He twisted the shower knob, steam beginning to curl in the air.

 

“Under,” Eddie ordered softly.

 

Buck pushed his boxers off and complied, stepping in, closing his eyes as hot water sluiced down over him, washing soot into rivulets down the drain.

 

Eddie didn’t leave. He sat on the closed toilet lid, elbows braced on his knees, eyes never straying far from Buck.

 

For a while, neither spoke. Just the sound of water, steady and cleansing. Then Buck finally exhaled.

 

“I lost a kid tonight,” he said. His voice cracked slightly, but he pressed on. “Teenager. Got him out, but… too late.”

 

Eddie’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I know. Hen and Chim… they were shaken up, too. Lots of casualties.”

 

Buck nodded, tilting his head back under the spray. “Feels like… all we did was pull bodies out.”

 

Eddie didn’t try to sugarcoat it. He just said, “Yeah. It was bad.” His voice dropped. “But we gave everything we had to give. Lots of people made it too.”

 

Silence stretched again.

 

Buck scrubbed a hand down his face, water dripping from his chin. Then, almost reluctantly, he added, “My parents were at Maddie’s. When I showed up… they cornered me. Thought I was hurt.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Suddenly they’re worried. Suddenly they care. And they—” He paused, shaking his head. “They want to have lunch tomorrow. To meet you. Officially.”

 

Eddie blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

 

“Yeah.” Buck rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with that. Feels like it’s just because they thought I was—” He cut himself off, teeth clenching. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

Eddie leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. “Buck. It does matter. Because it matters to you.”

 

Buck let out a rough sigh, finally grabbing a fresh washrag. He scrubbed hard, until his skin stung red, but at least the ash lifted away. Eddie’s words sank deeper than the heat of the water, making his chest ache. He swallowed, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes that wasn’t from the water.

 

“It’s just…” His voice broke as he worked the rag over his arms. “Wouldn’t shock me if tomorrow they… they take it back. Decide they don’t actually want to meet you. Once the initial scare wears off, they’ll remember they don’t give a fuck about me unless I’m bleeding out.”

 

Eddie hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not gonna pretend your parents have changed overnight. I don’t know them well enough. But I do know this: they’re not taking away my right to sit at that table with you.”

 

Buck froze mid-scrub. “You’ll come?”

 

Eddie’s mouth curved, soft but certain. “Well, of course. I’d probably follow you into hell.”

 

“Wh—” Buck barked out a laugh, water spraying everywhere as he shook his head. “Dude.”

 

“Don’t call me dude.”

 

“Then don’t say insane stuff like that.” Buck grinned despite himself.

 

Eddie shrugged, eyes glinting. “What’s the worst that could happen? Nothing I don’t deserve after you survived dinner with my parents.”

 

“Eds,” Buck groaned, dragging a wet hand down his face. “Say that again and you’re on the couch tonight.”

 

“This is my house,” Eddie shot back, a soft smile tugging at his lips. Then, more gently, “But seriously, if you want to go, we’ll go. Together. If you don’t, then we don’t. Simple.”

 

“Eds?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you really still feeling guilty about what happened with your parents?”

 

Eddie’s shoulders stiffened. He gave a little shrug, eyes fixed on the tile. “She hit you. And I just sat there.”

 

Buck put the rag away, water cascading off his hands. “We’ve been through this. You don’t owe me an apology for something you didn’t do. You’re not responsible for their actions. Sure, I hated you for about three minutes, but if I was still carrying that around, you’d know. I love you, Eds. If I can let it go, maybe you can too?”

 

Eddie finally looked up, lips pressed together. When their eyes met, some of the tension bled out of him, shoulders loosening.

 

“It was shitty,” he admitted, voice low. “Shouldn’t have happened.”

 

“True,” Buck said, tilting his head back under the spray. “But that doesn’t mean you have to carry it forever.”

 

Eddie exhaled slowly. “I guess…”

 

“No. No guessing.” Buck rinsed the last of the soap from his hair, then met Eddie’s gaze again. “The only people who should feel guilty probably never will. And I honestly couldn’t care less. I love you. I want you. Not them. Thank fuck they live like eight hundred miles away.”

 

That made Eddie laugh, bright and unguarded. “You’re ridiculous. And right. I love you too, by the way.”

 

Buck slapped a hand over his chest dramatically. “Oh, thank God. I was worried.”

 

“Dork,” Eddie muttered, shaking his head as he stood. “Finish rinsing. I’ll grab you a towel.”

 

Buck hurried through the last rinse, grinning at the sound of Eddie’s footsteps retreating. When he stepped out, Eddie was already there, holding a towel open for him. He wrapped Buck up in warmth, drying him off with practiced hands, while Buck used another towel to muss his own damp curls.

 

When he finally stopped dripping, they made their way to the bedroom. Eddie tossed a clean pair of boxers and soft pajama pants onto the bed while Buck tamed his hair, it was still damp and sticking up in messy tufts. The pile of clothes made Buck pause. He had more pajamas here than in his own apartment. Half his t-shirts too, scattered in Eddie’s drawers, borrowed and never returned.

 

Home, his brain whispered. This place felt more like it than anywhere else had in years.

 

The thought dragged another one with it, unwelcome, sharp. The little golden ring still hidden at his place, tucked into the back of his drawer. He hadn’t even figured out how he wanted to do it yet, how to ask Eddie the biggest question of his life. And now his parents knew. Chim and Maddie too. Because apparently, when Evan Buckley’s brain short-circuited, his mouth went rogue.

 

He shoved the thought away before it could twist his stomach into knots. Not tonight.

 

Pulling on the boxers and soft pajama pants, he crawled under the covers. Eddie slid in right after, flicking off the lamp so the room fell into soft shadows. They ended up facing each other, only inches apart. Buck could feel Eddie’s breath on his cheek, warm and steady.

 

“You smell like my shampoo now,” Eddie murmured.

 

Buck smirked. “Maybe you shouldn’t buy the good stuff, then.”

 

“Noted,” Eddie said dryly, but there was a smile in his voice.

 

For a while, they just breathed together, the quiet stretching easy between them. Eddie’s hand slipped under the blanket, finding Buck’s, their fingers tangling without thought.

 

“You know,” Eddie said softly, “I used to hate nights like this. The quiet ones. Felt like the silence would swallow me whole.”

 

Buck blinked at him. “What changed?”

 

“You,” Eddie answered simply. “Now it feels… safe.”

 

Buck’s chest clenched tight. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out something reckless, like marry me right now. Instead, he squeezed Eddie’s hand. “Guess I’m good for something.”

 

“More than something,” Eddie murmured.

 

They were quiet again for a beat, and Buck tried not to drown in the warmth curling through his veins. Eventually, he whispered, “Do you ever think about what it would be like… if Christopher didn’t like me? Like, if I wasn’t—”

 

“Not possible,” Eddie cut him off, firm.

 

Buck laughed softly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

 

“I mean it. Chris loves you. And you love him. That’s not something that can be undone.”

 

Buck swallowed hard, throat tight. “You two are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 

Eddie shifted closer, brushing his nose against Buck’s temple. “You’re the best thing that’s happened to us.”

 

Buck shut his eyes, letting that sink into the cracks where doubt liked to live.

 

“Tomorrow might suck,” Eddie said after a moment, almost thoughtful. “But no matter what happens… we come back here. To this. To us.”

 

Buck’s heart twisted, too full. He pressed a kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand. “Yeah. To us.”

 

Chapter 34

Notes:

sorry, took me a while to update, started work again and it's insanely busy :(

Eddie felt it before the clock even ticked toward lunch with the Buckleys—the storm building inside Buck, coiling tighter with every breath. Restless, charged, like lightning looking for a place to strike. By the time they’d dropped Chris at school, Eddie knew exactly what Buck needed: a release. So, Eddie offered his ass without hesitation.

 

The shift in Buck was instant. Gone was the careful tenderness Eddie knew so well. This wasn’t slow or measured, it was wildfire. Buck’s hands were frantic, desperately stripping Eddie down like he might tear through skin if fabric slowed him. Then he was on him, pressing him onto his stomach into the mattress with a strength that bordered on reckless.

 

“Fuck,” Eddie gasped when Buck thrust inside, the air punched clean from his lungs. His grip shot for the headboard, scrambling for something to hold as Buck found a rhythm that was merciless, relentless. “Jesus—Buck—” His voice broke, swallowed by a low, guttural sound that wasn’t entirely sane.

 

Every movement was punishing, hips snapping forward with bruising intent. The bedframe rattled with every punishing thrust, Eddie’s skull grazing dangerously close to the wood with each forceful slam. Buck’s fingers clamped down on his hips hard enough to leave marks, his thighs colliding with Eddie’s in a pace that bordered on brutal. Eddie bit down on the pillow beneath him to stay sane.

 

It wasn’t just sex, it was Buck unraveling. Eddie could feel the storm, Buck’s frustration, his dread, his fear of the coming lunch—all of it poured out in violent waves. And Eddie took it, anchored himself, let Buck burn through him.

 

It was overwhelming. Maddening. Eye-rollingly good.

 

The air between them was suffocating, thick with heat, sweat, ragged breaths. Eddie’s knuckles went white against the headboard, muscles straining to hold steady as Buck drove harder, faster, every groan a desperate crack of thunder in Eddie’s ear.

 

“Buck—” Eddie choked out, his voice cracking as his body tried to keep up. It wasn’t often he saw Buck like this, untethered, every ounce of restraint burned away by something rawer. Something that had nothing to do with control and everything to do with need.

 

Buck pressed his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder for a moment, damp hair sticking to his skin, but his hips never faltered. His groans came low and desperate, each one vibrating through Eddie’s spine.

 

It was savage. Consuming. Yet Eddie didn’t flinch away. He welcomed it. Because beneath the bruises and the relentless pace, he could feel what Buck couldn’t say: his fear, his desperation, his need to outrun everything clawing at him. Eddie gave him that. Held steady so Buck didn’t have to.

 

Eddie’s arms shook, every muscle screaming, but he didn’t let go. Couldn’t. The sheer force of Buck’s hunger was intoxicating, dragging a broken sound from Eddie’s throat, half-whimper, half-plea.

 

“Let… go,” he rasped, forcing the words between thrusts. “Buck. Let go.”

 

Buck shuddered, pace stuttering for a split second before slamming back into him even harder, the bedframe rattling against the wall like it might splinter apart. Eddie tipped his head forward, laughter spilling out helpless between gasps, wrecked and wild.

 

Buck’s hand slid up without warning, closing firmly around Eddie’s throat. He wrenched him back, forcing Eddie’s spine into a brutal arch against his chest. The angle was merciless, every thrust striking so deep Eddie’s breath fractured into ragged gasps, his vision blurring at the edges as his head tipped back against Buck's shoulder. Buck held him there, trapped, exposed, utterly at his mercy.

 

“Touch yourself,” Buck rasped into his ear, voice jagged and raw, more command than request.

 

Eddie obeyed without a second thought. He tore one of his hands away from the headboard and wrapped it around his leaking cock. The sound that ripped from his throat was wrecked and shameless. Buck’s pace was unrelenting, driving him forward, making every stroke against himself feel desperate, sloppy, impossible to control.

 

“Good,” Buck growled, hips slamming harder. His hand flexed at Eddie’s throat, not cruel, but absolute, anchoring him, owning him.

 

The dual sensations lit Eddie up from the inside out. Buck pounding into him, his own hand trying to keep up, the heat and pressure so consuming he felt like he’d break apart before he was ready. It was overwhelming.

 

“Buck—” he gasped, the name torn between warning and plea. But Buck only pressed his mouth to Eddie’s temple, relentless, breath searing against his skin.

 

His thrusts grew even more punishing. The bed shook with the force of it, wood groaning in protest, but Eddie couldn’t have cared less. All he could feel was Buck’s desperation pouring through every thrust, every harsh breath ghosting across his neck, every low command that left Eddie shaking.

 

“Take it,” Buck gritted out, his voice breaking on the edges of control. His grip tightened at Eddie’s throat, cutting off air just enough to make his pulse pound in his ears, leaving him bent back, vulnerable. “Take all of it.”

 

Eddie shuddered violently, caught between pleasure and raw ache. His hand was sloppy now, uncoordinated, faltering on himself because Buck was fucking him too hard to find rhythm. His voice cracked when he tried to speak, knuckles straining white where they clung to the headboard, body trembling with the effort to hold himself steady.

 

Buck’s fingers loosened around his throat, finally taking a little mercy.

 

“Fuck—Buck—” he gasped.

 

Buck bent closer, chest slick against Eddie’s back, his breath scorching hot against his ear. “You wanted this,” he ground out, every word guttural, broken. “So you’re gonna take every inch. Every—fucking—second.” Each word was punctuated by a brutal snap of his hips that sent Eddie reeling.

 

Eddie’s eyes rolled back again, his own hand working furiously because he was already on the knife’s edge. Buck used him like he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t burn through fast enough, and it had Eddie unraveling, helpless to stop it.

 

Then Buck’s free hand dragged down Eddie’s stomach, covering the fist around his cock, forcing the rhythm tighter, crueler, perfect. “Come on,” he ordered, low and commanding, raw with need. “Do it for me. Fall apart for me.”

 

The words hit like a strike of lightning. Eddie’s whole body jerked, clamping down hard as his release hit, blinding, shaking. A hoarse cry ripped from his throat, his body shattering as he spilled into their joined hands. The force of it left him shaking, every muscle quaking. 

 

Buck didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Eddie collapsed face-first into the sheets, trembling and spent, body shuddering from the force of his orgasm; but instead of slowing, the sight only broke Buck wider open. Eddie wrecked, undone, boneless, it lit something savage in him. His hips snapped harder, merciless, dragging Eddie through the raw burn of overstimulation.

 

A strangled cry tore from Eddie, muffled by the pillow, his knuckles bleaching white again as he clawed at the headboard. He held on like it was the only thing tethering him to earth, anchoring him against the storm Buck had become.

 

“Up.” Buck’s voice was a growl, leaving no room for refusal. He hooked his arms beneath Eddie’s hips and hauled him back, forcing him higher, angling him open. The new position was brutal, Eddie gasped, vision swimming, as Buck was able to thrust even deeper, grinding against nerves already lit on fire.

 

Oversensitivity blurred into ecstasy, every nerve ending overloaded, every thrust a sharp shock of unbearable pleasure. Eddie trembled, overwhelmed, but God, this was what he wanted—what he’d craved. Buck, unchained. Buck, relentless. Buck, his.

 

“Buck,” he whined, unable to compose himself. His words broke apart as Buck drove into him with savage precision. He couldn’t hold them together, not when Buck was tearing him apart with each brutal strike.

 

“Mine,” Buck snarled into his ear, teeth grazing slick skin, words vibrating against his spine. “You hear me? All fucking mine.”

 

The claim ripped something loose inside Eddie. His moan was half-sob, half-laugh, as his body gave way completely, surrendering to the brutal rhythm Buck set.

 

Buck’s control snapped fast, pleasure clearly clawing up his body with nowhere left to go. His grip on Eddie’s hips was bruising, nails digging hard enough to mark, as he drove forward with wild abandon.

 

“Shit. Eddie—” The groan ripped out of him. He slammed in one final time, burying himself to the hilt, body shaking violently as his release tore through him like wildfire. He came with a force that stole his breath, spilling into Eddie as the world shattered around them.

 

Eddie swore his heart stopped in that instant, his whole body seized in the blaze of it—and what a devastatingly beautiful way to die.

 

Even as Buck emptied himself, his hips kept twitching, shallow thrusts prolonging the ecstasy, pushing Eddie further into the haze of being used, being taken.

 

Only when Buck finally sagged against him, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his spine, did the storm relent. The room fell quiet, except for their ragged breaths, the tremor of muscles still quaking, both of them ruined and remade, utterly spent.

 

Eddie sprawled across the mattress, chest heaving, skin slick, every nerve still thrumming like a struck wire. He floated in the haze of it, boneless, wrecked, his body singing with the echo of Buck finally unleashing the ruthless side he’d been craving for so damn long. A faint, lazy smile tugged at his lips—wrecked had never felt so good.

 

Beside him, Buck collapsed onto his back, arm thrown over his eyes, chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted through fire. But even blindfolded by his own forearm, Eddie could see it: the crease between his brows, the tension etched deep into his face.

 

Still drunk on the high, Eddie blinked slowly, rolling closer until his fingers brushed across Buck’s stomach, catching the twitch of muscle beneath sweat-slick skin. He pressed a kiss to his shoulder, tasting salt.

 

“Hey,” Eddie murmured, voice lazy, warm. “You’re frowning. Don’t tell me you’re already regretting rocking my world.”

 

Buck shifted, just enough to peek out with uncertain, blue eyes. The worry there was unmistakable. “Did I…?” His throat bobbed on a swallow, voice rough, hesitant. “Did I hurt you?”

 

Eddie let out something between a laugh and a sigh, dragging his fingers slowly over Buck’s chest, grounding. “Cielo, if that’s what pain feels like, sign me up for more. You blew my mind.” His grin tilted, lazy and sated. “That wasn’t hurt, Buck. That was me floating somewhere past cloud nine.”

 

A shaky breath slipped from Buck, but the line of his jaw stayed taut. Eddie pushed up on an elbow, leaning over him, brushing damp curls back from his forehead. His lips pressed soft against Buck’s temple, lingering. “Seriously. I’m fine. More than fine. I wanted that. I’ve been waiting for that.”

 

Buck’s eyes fluttered shut again, and little by little, the tightness in his face began to loosen under Eddie’s steady touch.

 

So Eddie stayed there, offering what Buck had just given him in another way, gentleness, grounding, care. His fingers drew lazy shapes over Buck’s chest, down his ribs, until the sharp edges of frustration finally started to smooth out of him.

 

Buck’s breathing slowed, though his arm stayed draped across his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite stand being looked at. Eddie didn’t push, just kept drawing those slow patterns, patient, deliberate, waiting him out.

 

It stayed silent for a long moment, until Eddie couldn’t bear it anymore.

 

“You’re doing that thing again,” he murmured, lips brushing Buck’s shoulder.

 

A muffled sound came from behind Buck’s arm. “What thing?”

 

“The thing where you give me the best sex of my life and then act like you’ve committed a felony,” Eddie teased, voice warm but steady. His fingers slid up to curl around Buck’s wrist, tugging his arm down just enough so he could see his face. “Talk to me, Buck.”

 

Finally, Buck met his eyes—and there it was. That crack of vulnerability Eddie knew too well. Buck exhaled hard through his nose, the worry still etched in every line. “I just… lost control. I don’t usually—”

 

“Good,” Eddie cut in firmly. He pushed Buck’s curls back again, holding his gaze steady. “I wanted that. Needed it, even. You didn’t hurt me, Evan.”

 

The use of his name seemed to land, making Buck flinch just slightly. He shifted, gaze darting away to the ceiling. “It’s just— I can’t stop thinking about lunch later. About them.”

 

Eddie hummed, not surprised. He laid back down, pressing his forehead to Buck’s temple, grounding him with closeness. “Your parents.”

 

“Yeah.” Buck’s jaw tightened. “It’s like… the second they saw me last night, worried, suddenly I mattered. And now they want to meet you. Like it took me being—” He broke off, throat tight.

 

Eddie brushed his thumb along Buck’s ribs, soothing. “Being hurt.”

 

Buck swallowed hard, eyes closing. “Yeah. Same old story, just wrapped in a new bow. And I know I shouldn’t care, but—”

 

“But you do,” Eddie finished for him, gentle.

 

The silence stretched, heavy but safe. Eddie pressed a kiss into Buck’s damp hair. “You don’t have to apologize for that. You’re allowed to care. You’re allowed to be pissed about it, too.”

 

Buck gave a shaky, humorless laugh, one shoulder jerking slightly. After a beat, he pushed upright, elbows braced on his knees, fingers clawing through his hair like he could scrape the frustration out of his skull. His eyes darted to the window, as if the morning light outside could hold his fury.

 

“You know what? Yeah. Yeah, I am pissed off,” he muttered, voice low. “What the fuck did we do to deserve to get these dicks of parents? I mean, really. I’ve spent half my life trying to matter to them, and apparently it still wasn’t enough to stop them from—” His jaw clamped tight, words choked off. He shoved both hands through his hair, harder this time. “God, I hate it. I hate that the only way they suddenly give a damn is if I’m… broken or hurt or—ugh. I can’t even say it right. And in a few hours… they’re gonna meet you, and I can’t just… be angry at them and be like, ‘Hey, I’m done with this shit.’ No, I have to sit there and be polite. Normal. Acceptable. Like some fucking prop. And it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.”

 

Eddie’s hand slid over Buck’s, fingers warm and grounding, tracing circles along tense knuckles. “You’re allowed to be mad,” he murmured. “You don’t have to bottle it up for them.”

 

Buck leaned into the touch, a ragged exhale shuddering out of him, tension loosening by degrees. “I know. I know. It’s just…” He turned, met Eddie’s gaze head-on. “They don’t care, Eds.”

 

The words gutted him. The look in Buck’s eyes—raw, broken, the kind of hurt that never really healed—made Eddie’s chest ache. He just wanted to wrap Buck into a blanket burrito style and cry with him.

 

“No matter what I do,” Buck rasped. “Nothing will ever be good enough. They don’t care if I talk, if I shut down, if I set myself on fire in front of them. Nothing changes. They love Maddie, and they still treat her like crap.”

 

Eddie’s thumb brushed slow and steady over Buck’s hand, the only anchor in the middle of his unraveling. “Hey,” he said softly, but Buck was already shaking his head.

 

“No, listen—” his voice cracked, and he pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes, trying to hold back the sting. “It’s like… like I’ve been screaming my whole damn life, and they still don’t hear me. Nothing I’ve done has ever made them look at me the way I wanted. And now? Now I’ve got this—” His hand cut a broken line between them, the bed, everything. “I’ve got you, I’ve got Chris, I’ve got Maddie, the 118. I know I’m not alone. I know that. But it doesn’t erase—” His voice hitched, breath catching sharp. “It doesn’t erase that part of me that still wants them to just… fucking love me.”

 

His voice was small, cracked open, like a kid confessing something shameful, and it ripped Eddie in two. He cupped Buck’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with that. With wanting it. With wanting them to be different.”

 

Buck gave a short, harsh laugh. “Yeah, well, wanting it doesn’t change the fact that it’s never gonna happen. And it’s pathetic, isn’t it? That I’m still pissed, still hoping for something that isn’t coming. Half of me wants to throw it in their faces. The other half just wants to…” He broke off, throat working as he swallowed hard. “…to finally stop caring.”

 

Eddie leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, steady and sure. “That’s not pathetic. That’s human. That’s you. And it’s okay to want it, even if it never comes. But Buck…” His voice dropped, steady as stone. “Don’t you dare think for a second that you’re not enough. You’re more than enough. For Chris. For me. For everyone who actually gives a damn.”

 

Buck’s breath shuddered out of him, shaky and uneven, but some of the fire in his eyes softened, melted into something more fragile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

“You’re not gonna have to find out,” Eddie promised, brushing his lips against Buck’s temple. “Not now. Not ever.”

 

*

 

Phillip’s smile was warm as he extended his hand. “Eddie. Finally, we meet.”

 

Eddie forced a polite curve of his lips. He wasn’t fool enough to think he’d ever genuinely like the Buckley parents. Still, he clasped Phillip’s hand, firm but slow, before moving on.

 

“Margaret.” His voice was steady as he offered her the same courtesy, even as Buck leaned in to hug his father with the stiffness of obligation. The kiss he pressed to his mother’s cheek was just as rehearsed. The whole exchange carried the kind of awkwardness that clung to family get-togethers like static.

 

He and Buck had been the last to arrive, and not for lack of trying. Eddie’s fault, mostly. Every time he’d felt the tension coil tighter inside Buck, he’d taken it into his own hands. His mouth. His body. So, they had gone for another round. And… another one. And one time in the shower. Again and again, until Buck’s laughter had returned, until the weight on his shoulders had slipped away. By the time they’d stepped out of the shower, Buck had been humming along to the radio, easy and loose.

 

Now, Buck pulled out Eddie’s chair like it was second nature. Eddie rolled his eyes, mouthed idiot. Buck’s answering grin was boyish, his lips shaping love you too.

 

Before Eddie could sink further into the comfort of that small, private exchange, Buck’s voice carried across the table. “You guys didn’t tell me there would be a princess here.” His gaze locked on Jee before he swooped her up from her chair, tossing her high. Her laughter pealed through the restaurant, bright and unrestrained, until Maddie’s warning cut in.

 

“That’s enough, Uncle Buck,” she said, though her smile betrayed her affection. “I’d rather not get thrown out of this place. Again.”

 

Sheepish but unrepentant, Buck set Jee back in her highchair. Eddie’s chest tightened at the sight—at Buck’s ease, his gentleness. God, the man was made for this. He didn’t know he was able to fall even more for Buck. But Buck with children? God, he couldn’t wait till they could adopt.

 

When he turned back to the table, Eddie found Margaret’s eyes fixed on him. Sharp, unblinking. His jaw tightened before he could stop it, and the words What’s your problem, malnacida? hovered bitter and ready on his tongue. But he swallowed them down. Instead, he gave her a tight, careful smile and shifted his gaze away. Peace wasn’t worth shattering over her scrutiny.

 

Buck slid into the chair beside him, easy as always, his arm stretching across the back of Eddie’s chair as though it belonged there. Eddie let the warmth of it ground him, chasing off the sting of Margaret’s gaze.

 

The waiter arrived, menus fanned neatly across the table. Buck didn’t even glance at his, just tugged Eddie’s closer until they were leaning shoulder to shoulder over the same page. Their heads brushed as they skimmed through the choices, Buck’s finger trailing across the list before landing on something.

 

“This one,” Buck whispered, tone conspiratorial.

 

Eddie shook his head, nudging his own pick with a fingertip. “You’ll like this better.”

 

Buck’s mouth curved into a smug grin. “Uh-huh. And you’re getting this one.” He tapped a completely different dish with exaggerated certainty, eyes dancing when Eddie arched a brow.

 

“You’re ordering for me now?” Eddie murmured, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him with a tug upward.

 

“Obviously,” Buck replied without missing a beat. “I know what you’ll actually eat instead of just push around your plate.”

 

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move the menu away. By the time the waiter came back, Buck declared Eddie’s meal along with his own, rattling them off like it was second nature. He leaned back, looking far too pleased with himself, while Eddie shook his head and tried to hide his smile behind his water glass.

 

“Unbelievable,” Chim said from across the table, his tone half-teasing, half-exasperated. “You two sound like you’ve been married twenty years already. Want me to just ask for a joint dessert while we’re at it?”

 

Maddie snorted, Phillip chuckled under his breath, and Buck, utterly unbothered, flashed Eddie the kind of grin that made Eddie’s chest feel too tight, too full. Eddie only shrugged, the corners of his lips lifting despite himself. Married twenty years? He could live with that.

 

Margaret’s voice cut in, smooth and measured, as though she were simply making conversation. “So, Eddie…” she began, her eyes sliding toward him with a sharpness she didn’t bother disguising, “what’s your opinion on marriage?”

 

Buck’s grin faltered for just a second, almost imperceptibly, as he stiffened in his seat. Eddie set his glass down and gave her a polite shrug. “Marriage?” He leaned back slightly, his tone casual. “I think if two people want to spend their lives together, it’s worth it.”

 

“Hmm,” Margaret hummed, her lips curling like she’d found a thread worth tugging. “Interesting. Because I heard you’ve been married before.” She tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “Why aren’t you still married?”

 

The table went still.

 

Eddie didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. His answer came flat, unadorned, and heavy enough to make the silence stretch. “Because she died.”

 

Which obviously wasn't the only reason, but he'd rather eat nails than tell her anything more. 

 

Maddie’s hand froze halfway to her glass. Chim’s smile slipped. Buck’s arm tightened slightly along the back of Eddie’s chair, his whole body angling closer in quiet solidarity.

 

Across the table, Margaret’s expression flickered, just a hairline crack in the façade of composure, before smoothing over again. “I see,” she murmured, as though she hadn’t meant the words to cut as deep as they had.

 

But Eddie knew better. He caught the was Buck’s jaw ticked. His eyes flicked immediately to Maddie, sharp and unspoken: Fix this. Now.

 

She caught it, her breath hitching for only a second before she straightened and pasted on a bright, practiced smile. “You know,” Maddie said, her voice cutting through the thick quiet like a lifeline, “that actually reminds me of this insane 9-1-1 call I got last week.”

 

Phillip glanced her way, grateful for the shift. Chim leaned back, curiosity lighting his face. Even Jee perked up at Maddie’s animated tone.

 

“This poor guy calls in, completely panicked,” Maddie continued, warming into the story. “He’s stuck in an elevator downtown with his girlfriend. Fire alarm blaring, sprinklers going off. He’s convinced the whole building’s about to collapse.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “And right in the middle of all that chaos, he decides it’s the perfect time to propose.”

 

“No way,” Chim said, already grinning.

 

“Oh, absolutely.” Maddie lifted her brows. “He’s down on one knee, well, as much as you can be in a stalled elevator, and he’s sobbing, telling her how he doesn’t want to die without her knowing he loves her. I’ve got him in one ear, the fire captain in the other, and I’m just trying to keep him from hyperventilating long enough for the team to get the doors open.”

 

Buck huffed a laugh under his breath, his tension loosening just enough to let amusement break through.

 

Eddie remembered. It had been during their shift. Chim had missed out because he had stayed home with a sick Jee.

 

“Guess who was on the crew prying the doors open?” Maddie continued. “Buck comes charging in, dripping wet from the sprinklers, and the guy just blurts the question anyway.”

 

Eddie found himself smiling despite the knot in his chest, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he recalled Buck stomping into that chaos.

 

“Did she say yes?” Phillip asked, genuinely invested now.

 

“She did,” Maddie said, eyes sparkling. “Though honestly, I think it was more out of sheer relief than anything else. I mean, if someone asked me to marry them while sirens were blaring and water was pouring on my head, I’d say yes just to get out of there.”

 

Chim laughed, shaking his head. “That poor girl. Romantic proposal turned disaster movie.”

 

Even Margaret let out a small, practiced laugh.

 

Buck pressed his lips to Eddie’s brow, murmuring low enough so only he could hear, “Don’t let her get to you.”

 

Eddie hummed. “I’m fine.“

 

The tension had only just started to ease when the waiter reappeared, arms full of steaming plates. He set them down one by one, the air filling with the warm scent of roasted chicken, fresh herbs, and buttered bread. Conversations paused as everyone adjusted their napkins and shifted closer to their meals.

 

“Thank you,” Eddie said automatically when his dish landed in front of him, though his eyes flicked toward Buck with a half-smile. Buck’s smug expression told him he hadn’t forgotten he’d ordered for both of them.

 

“You’ll thank me later,” Buck murmured, bumping his knee lightly against Eddie’s under the table.

 

Chim groaned. “You two are ridiculous.”

 

The first few minutes were filled with the clink of cutlery, quiet murmurs of appreciation, and Jee’s happy chatter as Maddie coaxed her into eating small bites from her plate. Eddie felt himself relax slightly, the steady rhythm of a shared meal calming his nerves.

 

Then Phillip leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. His smile was warm, polite, but with the faintest edge of assessment. “So, Eddie,” he began, “why don’t you tell us a little about yourself? We’ve heard plenty from Evan and Howard, of course, but it’d be nice to hear it in your own words.”

 

Eddie dabbed his mouth with his napkin, buying a moment. He knew this was coming, it was why they were here, after all. An official meeting, a test, a chance to prove he was more than whatever picture the Buckleys might already have of him.

 

“Well,” he started, his voice steady, “I grew up in Texas. Joined the Army pretty young. Spent a few years overseas before I came back home and joined the LAFD. Been with the department ever since.”

 

Phillip nodded, thoughtful. “Military and first responder. That’s… impressive.”

 

“Dangerous, too,” Margaret added lightly, though her tone carried something else beneath the words. “Not exactly the kind of career that makes a mother sleep soundly at night.”

 

Eddie inclined his head, polite. “You’re right. It’s not easy work. But it matters. And it’s the kind of job where I know I’m doing something good every day.”

 

Buck glanced at him then, something proud flickering in his eyes.

 

Phillip leaned back, considering him. “And your family? Still in Texas?”

 

“My parents are. My grandmother, some aunts and uncles, too,” Eddie said carefully. “Big family, actually. Lots of cousins. My son’s with me here, though—Christopher. He’s a freshman.” His tone softened at the mention, the warmth slipping in unguarded. “Best kid in the world.”

 

That got Maddie smiling, genuine and bright. “Chris is amazing,” she said quickly, cutting off the silence before it could stretch. “He’s wonderful. So polite. And smart. God, Eddie, he’s sharp. Asked me more questions in five minutes than most adults do in an hour.”

 

Buck grinned, proud. “That’s my boy.”

 

Margaret’s fork paused briefly above her plate, then lowered again. “A son,” she echoed. “That must keep you busy.”

 

“It does,” Eddie said, steady, though his shoulders tensed faintly. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, I’ve got Buck. He’s been Godsend these past eight years.”

 

Buck’s hand shifted under the table, brushing lightly against his thigh.

 

Phillip smiled again, nodding as though filing the information away. “Well, we’re looking forward to meeting him someday.”

 

Eddie inclined his head, polite. “I think he’d like that.” He was halfway through a bite when Margaret’s voice cut in, her tone deceptively mild.

 

“Evan,” she said, turning toward Buck with a too-smooth smile. “That picture on your profile, the boy in it. Is that Christopher?”

 

Buck glanced up, swallowing his sip of water. “Yeah,” he said easily, his smile softening in that way it always did when Chris came up. “That’s Chris.”

 

Margaret’s fork hovered above her plate. Her mouth curved, but her words stumbled as though she were carefully choosing them. “Ah. What’s, uh… what’s wrong with him?”

 

The question landed like a slap. Eddie froze mid-motion, his fork still in hand, his pulse spiking hot and sharp. His body immediately went in to fight-modus.

 

“Mom,” Buck hissed, his voice low but sharp enough to cut. His eyes flared, warning and furious.

 

Margaret blinked, feigning surprise, her hand fluttering slightly as though she were the wounded party. “I just meant—well…” She trailed off, her tone airy, as if she hadn’t just gutted the table with five words. “He looked… different, that’s all.”

 

Different.

 

Eddie’s grip tightened around his fork until the metal dug into his palm. He forced himself not to snap, not to give her the satisfaction. He felt Buck shift closer beside him, the heat of him radiating with restrained anger.

 

Maddie’s voice sliced through the taut silence, firm and unflinching. “What’s wrong with him, Mom,” she said pointedly, “is that he has cerebral palsy. And he’s also one of the brightest, funniest, kindest kids I’ve ever met. So maybe don’t phrase it like that.”

 

Margaret’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flicking away as though she’d been unfairly scolded. “Of course,” she murmured, a picture of contrition that rang hollow. “That’s… not what I meant.”

 

But Eddie knew better. He felt the words like a stone in his chest, heavy and bitter. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t trust himself to. Instead, he focused on the steady weight of Buck’s arm across the back of his chair, the protective press of his thigh against Eddie’s under the table.

 

Chris wasn’t a problem. Chris wasn’t “wrong.” Chris was his heart, his anchor, his reason. And anyone who couldn’t see that? They weren’t worth the breath it would take to explain.

 

The silence after Margaret’s barb stretched, thick as smoke. Forks scraped plates, but no one spoke. Eddie chewed methodically, every nerve alert, waiting for the next strike.

 

It was Phillip who broke the quiet. He cleared his throat, folding his napkin neatly before looking at Buck. “How’s work, Evan? You looked exhausted last night. Maddie mentioned you had… what was it, a bad call?”

 

Buck nodded. “Yeah. We lost more civilians than we liked.” His voice was low, a raw edge buried in it.

 

Phillip nodded once, his expression unreadable. “Well. It’s good you’ve found something steady. For once.”

 

The words hung heavy. Buck ducked his head, shoulders curling inward like he was bracing for impact.

 

Eddie slid his hand over Buck’s under the table, squeezing hard enough to leave no doubt. His voice came smooth, almost bright, the perfect blade wrapped in velvet. “He’s more than steady. He’s dependable. Always there when people need him.” His smile was polite, sharp-edged. “Can’t say that about just anyone.”

 

Both older Buckleys blinked, caught between a compliment and a cut. Eddie held their gaze, his own smile all warmth on the surface, daring them to push.

 

“Evan was always energetic,” Margaret said at last, clearly steering for safer waters. “Maddie was our calm one. Always knew how to sit still.”

 

Beside Eddie, Buck let out a small laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. Maddie’s jaw tightened, her napkin twisting in her lap.

 

Eddie tilted his head, his tone mild, almost conversational. “You know, calm doesn’t get you very far when a building’s burning down. I’ll take energetic and dependable any day. That’s the guy you want pulling you out of the flames.”

 

Margaret faltered, then pasted on a smile so thin it looked ready to crack. “Of course.”

 

Before the air could thicken again, Jee squealed, tossing a breadstick like a parade streamer. Buck caught it midair, wiggling it until she dissolved into giggles. The tension broke just enough for everyone to breathe again.

 

But Eddie didn’t miss the way Buck started worrying at his napkin, twisting it tighter and tighter until the fabric looked like rope burn against his fingers. Jee babbled happily to herself, the perfect little buffer Eddie silently thanked the universe for.

 

“So, Evan,” Margaret started again, her voice just sharp enough to make Eddie’s hackles rise. “Are you still living in that little apartment?”

 

“Uh—” Buck started, and Eddie could hear the wobble in it.

 

“Barely,” Eddie cut in, cheerful as sunshine, his fork clicking lightly against his plate. “He’s been staying at my place a lot. My kid loves having him there. It’s nice, actually, having someone you trust around. Makes a house feel fuller.”

 

Margaret blinked. Phillip blinked. Maddie ducked her head like her napkin had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world. Buck shot Eddie a sideways look that was equal parts gratitude and oh my god, please stop talking.

 

“Oh,” Phillip said at last, clearing his throat. “Well… that’s good, I suppose. For Christopher.”

 

“For all of us,” Eddie corrected smoothly, his smile unwavering. “Chris adores him. Kids are excellent judges of character, you know. They don’t waste their time on people who aren’t worth it.”

 

That one landed like a stone. Maddie pressed her lips together hard, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

 

Margaret recovered first, her smile brittle but intact. “Well. Family is family. Nothing more important.”

 

Eddie didn’t even blink. “Exactly. And sometimes the family you build around you ends up being the one that matters most.” He flashed them that polite, practiced grin that could be read a hundred different ways. “We’re lucky in that.”

 

This time Buck startled into a laugh before he could swallow it down, Jee squealed like she agreed, and Maddie flat-out choked on her water. Chim patted her back, alarmed, while Phillip and Margaret just stared like the whole table had tilted against them without warning.

 

Eddie leaned back in his chair, draping an arm casually across Buck’s chair. His hand found Buck’s shoulder and stayed there, steady, warm, and absolutely unapologetic.

 

Margaret recovered again, this time with a sip of water that looked more like she was swallowing glass. “Well,” she said lightly, “it’s admirable, what you’ve done. Stepping up the way you have, as a single father. Not everyone would manage that.”

 

Eddie’s smile didn’t budge. “Oh, I didn’t step up,” he said pleasantly, like they were discussing the weather. “I just did what any good parent would. Christopher deserves that. Every kid, really.”

 

Buck’s hand twitched against his thigh, like he wanted to reach for him under the table. Jee filled the silence with another delighted squeal, and Eddie silently thanked her again for her timing.

 

Phillip glanced at his watch, his brow lifting. “Well,” he said, pushing his empty plate away, “this has been… enlightening. I’m sure you all have places to be. We’ve got a plane catch.”

 

“Always,” Chim said brightly, cutting in before anyone else could. “We’re on borrowed toddler time. Jee gives us about fifteen more minutes before a full-scale meltdown.”

 

“Never happens,” Maddie muttered, dabbing her mouth with her napkin, but her grateful glance at Chim was quick and sharp.

 

Buck finally looked up from the rope-burn napkin in his fingers, his grin real this time. “Thanks for lunch. It was, uh… something.”

 

Eddie rose with him, steady hand brushing Buck’s shoulder as they stood. He caught Margaret’s eyes one last time, his own smile razor-smooth and pleasant. “Thanks for inviting us. I’m glad we could… clear some things up.”

 

She blinked, clearly not sure if she’d just been thanked or dressed down. Eddie didn’t give her the chance to figure it out.

 

By the time they’d wrangled Jee’s stuffed giraffe and said quick goodbyes, Eddie had his arm slung comfortably across Buck’s back, guiding him toward the door. Buck leaned into him without hesitation, and Eddie thought—yeah. Let them choke on it.

 

Outside, the sunlight felt better than any dessert could’ve.

 

By the time they were back home, Buck had apologized… probably a hundred times since they’d walked out the restaurant. Eddie had stopped counting after fifty, folding his arms across his chest as Buck trailed him from room to room, muttering things like “We should have never gone” and “My mother is unbelievable, can you believe her?”

 

Eddie had let him talk, because he knew letting Buck vent was part of the process. And honestly? Watching Buck pace in socks across the hardwood floors, cheeks pink, hair mussed, was not exactly unpleasant.

 

“Buck,” Eddie said finally, voice calm, almost amused, letting his words land like a hand on his shoulder. “I think we’ve established your parents are… what they are. You don’t have to apologize every five minutes. They’re done for the day. For the year, if we’re lucky. Heck, they’re back in Pennsylvania.”

 

Buck paused mid-step, shoulders slumping like Eddie had yanked a weight off him. “I know, I know… but the way she spoke—”

 

A sudden crash of laughter from the front porch, followed by high-pitched squeals, cut him off. Rapid knocking rattled the door, the bell jingling frantically like it had just discovered excitement.

 

Eddie moved with deliberate calm, opening the door, only to have Maddie, Chim, and Jee barreling in like a miniature hurricane.

 

“Boys! Tell me everything!” Maddie demanded, arms flailing like she was conducting a full-blown orchestra of gossip. “They’re gone. Finally.” She waddled toward the couch, plopping down and kicking her feet onto the coffee table.

 

Chim snorted, dropping into the armchair with Jee wriggling happily on his lap.

 

Buck groaned, sinking onto the couch next to Maddie and angling himself toward her as though he’d found the perfect person to trash talk his parents to. “They’re the worst,” he muttered, voice low but venomous.

 

“I can’t believe…” Maddie began, and just like that, the Buckley siblings were off—rumors, impressions, exaggerated reenactments spilling out like confetti from a cannon.

 

Eddie leaned back slightly, letting the storm wash over him, and caught Chim’s eye. They shared a look, half amusement, half “we’re definitely not leaving anytime soon.”

Chapter 35

Notes:

ahhhh im so excited for ya'll to read these last chapters

“Buck?”

 

“Yeah?” Buck barely hummed in acknowledgment, his whole focus on the TV screen where he was annihilating Ravi in Mario Kart.

 

“We’re free tomorrow,” Eddie said, his voice casual, but Buck didn’t notice the way his tone lingered, like it meant something more.

 

“Uh-huh. Forty-eight off,” Buck replied automatically, thumb mashing the joystick. He swore under his breath, jerked his controller to the side, dodged a green shell at the last second, then let out a whoop as his Yoshi zoomed across the finish line first. “Fuck, yeah! That’s what I’m talking about.”

 

Ravi groaned, flopping back into the couch cushions. “You’re insufferable.”

 

“Probie, you’ll always be a probie,” Buck shot back with a wide grin, sticking his tongue out for good measure.

 

It wasn’t until the laughter faded that Buck remembered Eddie had been saying something. He turned, craning over the couch, and spotted him leaning against the table behind them, phone dangling forgotten in his hand. Eddie wasn’t scrolling, wasn’t typing. Just… staring. Quiet.

 

Buck tilted his head, reading him. “You wanna do something tomorrow?”

 

Eddie’s shoulders shifted in a loose shrug, his gaze flicking toward Ravi before he pocketed his phone and walked out of the loft.

 

“Why’s he acting so weird?” Ravi asked, grabbing his controller for another round.

 

Buck’s grin faltered, nerves pricking. “I, uh… I don’t know.” He tossed his controller onto the couch. “Train some more. Maybe one day you’ll actually be a worthy opponent.”

 

Ravi muttered a curse at him, but Buck was already moving, feet carrying him down the stairs and through the quiet hallway of the station. He found Eddie in the empty locker room, sitting on the bench with his elbows on his knees, gaze fixed through the glass wall where Chim and Hen were bickering good-naturedly by the ambulance.

 

Buck eased down next to him, straddling the bench so he could face him. “What’s up, Eds?”

 

“Oh, nothing.” Eddie’s answer was too quick, too practiced. “Just didn’t want to interrupt your gaming with Ravi.”

 

Buck blew a raspberry, leaning forward. “You think I care more about beating Ravi?”

 

A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t answer. He just shrugged, eyes still on Chim and Hen, like he could will himself into their argument instead of this conversation.

 

“You wanna do something tomorrow?” Buck pressed, softer this time.

 

Eddie finally turned, lips wetting as if the words needed a push. “Yeah. Weather’s good for October. I thought maybe we could… walk the beach?”

 

Relief cracked open Buck’s grin instantly. “I’d love to.” He leaned forward and kissed him, quick and certain, as if that settled it. “You sure you’re okay?”

 

Eddie’s shoulders loosened beneath the question. He nodded. “I’m fine. Promise.”

 

“Cool,” Buck murmured, still close enough to brush his breath over Eddie’s lips. “If you wanna talk, though, just tell me, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Eddie whispered, leaning in for another kiss.

 

Buck met him halfway, deepening it with a hand sliding warm against the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer. Eddie melted into it, just for a moment—

 

Then came the frantic thunk-thunk-thunk of someone rapping on the glass wall.

 

They broke apart, Eddie flushing scarlet while Buck groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes toward the window. Hen was doubled over with laughter, Chim pantomiming exaggerated kissing motions against the glass like a teenager.

 

Eddie buried his face in his hands, muttering, “Oh my god.”

 

Buck just slung an arm around him, laughing into his hair. “Some things never change.” He was still laughing when Hen swung the locker room door open, Chim trailing behind with his hands raised like he’d been dragged into trouble.

 

“Seriously?” Hen teased, eyebrows climbing as she smirked at them. “In the locker room? At least wait until Ravi’s gone home before traumatizing the kid.”

 

“He is traumatized,” Chim said solemnly, though his lips twitched. “I heard him mumbling something about bleach for his eyeballs after he caught you guys this morning.”

 

“Oh, good,” she said, eyebrows lifting at the sight of them sitting close on the bench. “I thought maybe you two had finally eloped and left the rest of us to deal with the station paperwork.”

 

Chim grinned, leaning back against the wall. “Give it time. Buck’ll probably live-stream it by accident.”

 

Buck groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Why do I even hang out with you people?”

 

“Because you love us,” Hen said sweetly, plopping herself onto the bench on Eddie's other side.

 

“Tragically true,” Buck muttered, though Eddie’s quiet chuckle beside him gave him away.

 

The door swung open again, this time admitting Ravi, who looked between them all like he’d just walked into the middle of a soap opera. “Uh… did I miss something?”

 

“Just Buck getting roasted alive,” Chim said helpfully, grabbing his water bottle from his locker. “Nothing new.”

 

Buck pointed at him. “Careful, or I’ll tell everyone about the time you screamed louder than the victim you were rescuing.”

 

“There was a raccoon!” Chim defended immediately, hands flying up. “With teeth! Big ones.”

 

Hen nearly slid off the bench laughing. “You still have nightmares, don’t you?”

 

Chim glared, crossing his arms. “At least I didn’t spend two weeks insisting I could build my own couch, only to call Eddie in tears when I ended up with five extra legs.”

 

Buck’s ears went red. “That was one time.”

 

“Wait,” Ravi said, blinking. “You actually cried?”

 

“I did not cry,” Buck insisted, voice pitching higher than he wanted it to. “I was… frustrated.”

 

Eddie smothered a laugh into his fist. “There were tears,” he confirmed, deadpan.

 

“Traitor,” Buck hissed, elbowing him lightly in the side.

 

The room erupted again, the laughter bouncing off the tile and lockers, bright and easy. Buck leaned back, shaking his head as if he was suffering through it all, but the truth was humming in his chest, steady and fierce. These were his people. His family. The noise, the teasing, the way they all knew each other’s worst stories and still showed up the next day anyway—this was home.

 

And when Eddie’s knee brushed his, solid and grounding in the middle of the chaos, Buck thought, Yeah. I’ve got everything I need right here. He leaned back on his hands, watching Eddie out of the corner of his eye. He looked relaxed now, shoulders loose, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

 

Hen was still wiping her eyes, saying, “I swear, if anyone ever publishes a book of Buck’s greatest hits, I’m buying the first ten copies.”

 

“Make it twelve,” Chim chimed in. “Christmas gifts.”

 

Buck rolled his eyes, but before he could retort, the door banged open again. This time Cap filled the fame, his expression somewhere between long-suffering patience and the kind of fatherly disappointment that always made Buck confess all his sins.

 

“What’s this?” Bobby asked, arms crossed, a twinkle shining bright in his eyes. “Slumber party in the locker room?”

 

Hen smirked. “You weren’t invited, Cap.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Bobby’s eyebrows lifted, unimpressed. “Last I checked, we had equipment that still needed scrubbing, and the rig doesn’t magically restock itself.”

 

Chim groaned dramatically, slumping back against the wall. “You mean we can’t just sit around roasting Buck for the rest of the shift?”

 

“Tempting as that sounds,” Bobby said dryly, “no.”

 

Ravi scrambled to his feet first, clearly eager not to get caught on Cap’s bad side. Hen rose with a theatrical sigh, followed by Chim dragging himself upright like he was being sentenced.

 

Buck pushed up, too. “I’ll take the kitchen.”

 

Bobby’s gaze landed on him with that quiet weight it always carried. “Think you can handle that without redecorating the ceiling this time?”

 

Buck’s mouth fell open. “That was one time!”

 

“One too many,” Bobby said again, already turning away.

 

Eddie clapped a hand on Buck’s shoulder as they followed the others out, his grin impossible to hide. “You walked right into that one.”

 

Buck huffed, but the warmth in his chest didn’t budge. The kitchen was quiet when he slipped in, arms full of paper towels, Clorox wipes, and a restock list Bobby had tacked to the fridge. He dumped everything onto the counter and blew out a breath, glancing at the mess left behind from breakfast. Coffee rings, crumbs, and an empty cereal box sitting lonely like someone had abandoned it mid-bite.

 

“Alright,” he muttered to himself. “Easy job. Wipe, stock, done. No explosions.”

 

From below came the faint clatter of metal against concrete, followed by Eddie’s voice, low, grumbling in Spanish. Buck didn’t catch the words, but he caught the tone. Concentrated. Focused. He smiled without meaning to, then shook his head and grabbed the Clorox wipes.

 

Focus, Buck.

 

Another clatter echoed up, heavier this time, followed by the scrape of boots and a muffled curse. Curiosity got the better of him, and Buck wandered over to the railing. He caught sight of Eddie bent over, looking for something in a toolbox that looked twice as heavy as it needed to be. He had rolled up his sleeves, strong, tanned forearms on full display.

 

And oh, no. That angle.

 

Buck swallowed hard, ears going hot. He jerked back into the kitchen like he’d been caught, clutching the counter for balance. “Nope,” he whispered fiercely. “Work. Kitchen. Focus.”

 

He snatched the paper towels and started stacking them into the cupboard, but somehow managed to put them sideways, like some chaotic Tetris move. He ripped them out, restacked, slammed the door shut, and grabbed the cereal box, only to realize he was shoving it into the freezer.

 

From below came Eddie’s voice again, carrying easily up the stairwell. “Ravi, hand me that wrench—no, the other one. Yeah, thanks.”

 

Buck pressed his forehead to the fridge, groaning. The mental image of Eddie crouched low, sleeves shoved up, hands wrapped around tools—yep, that wasn’t helping.

 

“Damn it,” Buck hissed under his breath, yanking the box out of the freezer and slamming it into the pantry instead.

 

The sound of Hen’s laughter floated up from downstairs. “You two done fixing the pipes or what?”

 

“Almost!” Eddie called back, voice strained with effort.

 

Buck leaned against the counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was at work. At work. Surrounded by friends and supervisors and probably a call coming any second. This was not the time. Or the place. Or remotely appropriate.

 

He lasted a grand total of four minutes before he caved.

 

The kitchen was half-clean, half-chaos, paper towels stacked neatly but the restock list untouched. He wiped his palms on his jeans, told himself he was just checking in, then edged toward the railing again.

 

One peek. That was it.

 

Eddie was kneeling on the concrete floor, a wrench in one hand, his shirt riding up just enough to show a strip of tanned skin at his waist. He leaned forward, bracing one arm against the pipe he was tightening, muscles shifting under the thin cotton of his t-shirt. His shoulders rolled with the motion, his back bowed, and Buck forgot how to breathe for a second.

 

Heat curled low in his stomach, sharp and insistent.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Buck muttered under his breath, fingers curling against the stairwell railing. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head like that might clear it. You’re at work. You’re supposed to be restocking the damn kitchen, not—

 

Eddie grunted, low and rough with effort, and Buck’s eyes snapped open again like they had a mind of their own.

 

The wrench slipped, clattering across the floor. Eddie swore, stretching out to snag it, and yeah, that did nothing to help Buck’s brain reset. Every thought was a mess of heat and want and absolutely nothing appropriate for a firehouse shift.

 

Buck scrubbed a hand down his face. “Get it together, Buckley. Seriously.”

 

He tried to step back, retreat before someone noticed him lurking like a lovesick idiot, but Eddie looked up.

 

Their eyes locked.

 

For a heartbeat, Buck froze, caught red-handed, guilt written all over his face. But instead of confusion or a frown, Eddie’s mouth curved. Slow. Knowing. A smirk that went straight to Buck’s chest... and lower.

 

Buck’s ears burned. He whipped back into the kitchen, almost tripping over the mop bucket, heart pounding like he’d just sprinted a mile.

 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, pressing a hand to his chest, a helpless laugh bubbling out. “He knows. He so knows.”

 

*

 

The sand was cool beneath his bare feet, damp from the tide that had rolled out not long ago. Buck held his shoes loosely in one hand, Eddie’s hand in the other, fingers laced like it was the most natural thing in the world. The sun was sliding low, spilling soft gold across the water. Waves lapped quietly at the shore, the hush of them weaving between their conversation like another voice in the mix.

 

“…so Christopher’s been on this kick where he wants to cook dinner,” Eddie was saying, his grin tilted toward the ocean. “Last night was… something between spaghetti and a science experiment. I had to scrub sauce off the ceiling.”

 

Buck laughed, head tipping back. “Ceiling?”

 

“Ceiling,” Eddie confirmed, smirking now. “Don’t ask. He was proud, though.”

 

“Of course he was,” Buck said, warmth blooming in his chest. He could see it so clearly, Chris with a wooden spoon, flour on his shirt, Eddie watching him with that look, equal parts exasperated and heart-deep fondness. “I bet it tasted great, though.”

 

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Buck’s. “Burnt garlic bread and all.”

 

Buck snorted. "I'm not there for one evening and miss Gordon Ramsay junior at work."

 

They kept walking, waves foaming around their ankles every so often, and Buck thought he could stay like this forever. Just easy. Just them.

 

His thoughts slipped to the inside of his jacket pocket. The small velvet box tucked inside, the edges familiar now. He’d been carrying it for weeks, through shifts and errands and nights on the couch, just in case the moment felt right. A steady weight. A reminder.

 

He thought it be over during lunch with his parents last week. His mother probably hadn’t meant to spoil the surprise, but still, Buck had been scared shitless she’d just tell Eddie about Buck’s plans. Thank God, Eddie had been too focused on being passive aggressive in his stead. The dork.

 

Eddie glanced over, catching his small smile. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Buck said, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “Just… I like this. Us.”

 

Eddie’s expression softened, something unguarded flickering across it. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me too.”

 

They fell into silence for a stretch, not uncomfortable, just the kind of quiet where every word had already been said in a hundred different ways. The horizon glowed, streaked with orange and pink.

 

After a while, Eddie slowed, then tugged gently on Buck’s hand. “Sit with me?”

 

They dropped down onto the cool sand, shoes discarded beside them. Buck stretched his legs out, leaning back on his palms, while Eddie drew his knees up, forearms resting casually across them. The waves were closer here, the spray cool on their skin, the sound a steady rhythm under the quiet.

 

For a long moment, they just watched the water. Then Eddie said, “Chris asked me last week if he could have a dog.”

 

Buck grinned. “That’s not surprising. Kid’s been dropping hints since forever. What’d you tell him?”

 

“That we’d have to talk about it.” Eddie shot him a sidelong glance. “Which, apparently, meant he expected me to bring it up with you.”

 

“Me?” Buck blinked, a little thrown, then laughed. “Why me?”

 

Eddie’s mouth quirked. “Because, in his words, ‘Buck will say yes.’”

 

Warmth spread through Buck so fast it almost knocked the air out of him. He rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling softly. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

 

Eddie hummed, watching him with that soft, unreadable gaze. “You’re… good with him. With all of it.”

 

Buck’s chest tightened. “He’s a great kid, Eds. And you—” His throat worked, suddenly too thick. He cleared it. “You’ve built something amazing with him. I just… I feel lucky I get to be part of it.”

 

Eddie’s silence stretched, not heavy, just… thoughtful. Then he nodded once, slow. “Yeah. Me too.”

 

They let that hang there, unspoken but steady, before Buck flopped back onto the sand, one arm thrown behind his head. “Okay, so dogs. But we have to set ground rules. I am not walking it at 3 a.m.”

 

Eddie barked out a laugh, low and startled, and leaned back beside him. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

 

The tide crept closer, foam sliding to their calves. Good thing they had rolled up their jeans. 

 

“You ever think about where you’d be if you weren’t a firefighter?” Eddie asked suddenly, eyes still on the horizon.

 

Buck huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Dead in a ditch probably.”

 

Eddie snorted. “I’m serious.”

 

“Me too,” Buck said, then softened, rolling onto his side to look at him. “Okay… I don’t know. I’ve tried a lot… Nothing really stuck until the 118.”

 

Eddie tilted his head, humming. “Why didn’t you stay with the SEALs?”

 

Buck shrugged. “I came at a point where I’d rather safe people without having to hurt others.”

 

“Deep.”

 

Buck laughed, then tossed the question back. “What about you?”

 

Eddie’s smile faded into something smaller, more thoughtful. “Honestly? If I wasn’t a firefighter… and I had gone study instead of on tour with the army,” he added, with a roll of his eyes. “I’d probably work at the hospital. Retire early, then start coaching basketball. Something steady, something that lets me go home every night.”

 

Buck’s chest ached at that, at the picture of Eddie in a gym, whistle around his neck, Chris grinning in the stands. “That’s perfect,” he said quietly. “You’d be amazing at both.”

 

Eddie ducked his head, ears pink, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth.

 

“Okay, serious dreams aside…” Buck’s grin turned mischievous. “If money was no object, and the laws of physics didn’t apply, what would you do?”

 

Eddie chuckled, leaning back fully now. “Oh, here we go.”

 

“I’d have a treehouse,” Buck declared. “Not just some kid’s fort. Like, a massive treehouse. Multiple levels. A slide that drops you right into the ocean. Maybe a fireman’s pole.”

 

“You’d build a second firehouse in the trees?” Eddie deadpanned.

 

“Exactly.” Buck grinned, triumphant. “But with hammocks everywhere. And pizza ovens.”

 

Eddie shook his head, smiling helplessly. “You’re such a kid.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Buck shrugged, “kids know how to dream big.”

 

Eddie was quiet for a beat, then said, “Okay. Fine. I’d want a cabin in the mountains. Wood stove, quiet. Place where Chris could come and just… be. Snow outside, hot chocolate inside.”

 

Buck let out a content sigh. “See, that’s good too. You dream practical.”

 

“And you dream ridiculous,” Eddie countered, but he was smiling again.

 

Buck reached over, brushing their joined hands against Eddie’s side. “Maybe between the two of us, we’ll get it right.”

 

Eddie glanced at him, warm and soft and just a little undone, like the words had landed somewhere deeper. He leaned over, brushing his lips to Buck’s in a kiss that was gentle but full of meaning, a soft promise folded into the air between them.

 

Buck melted against him, hand brushing over Eddie’s cheek, holding the moment, not wanting it to end. When they finally pulled back, Eddie’s eyes stayed on his, serious now, searching. He slowly came to sit straight. 

 

“Buck,” he said quietly, voice low but firm. “What would be a reason for you to break up with me?”

 

Buck blinked, caught off guard, the words hitting him like a splash of cold ocean water. “Wait… what?” He followed his example and sat up too. 

 

Eddie’s gaze didn’t waver. If anything, it sharpened, an edge of alarm lurking beneath the surface. “I mean—what would be a reason, Buck? Something you couldn’t forgive. Something that would make you… leave me?”

 

Buck’s stomach flipped. Alarm? Concern? His Eddie, who knew everything about him already, was looking like the question itself had shaken him.

 

“You’re… asking this now?” Buck said, voice low, confused. “After everything? We’ve been through hell together, Eddie. I—”

 

“I know, I know,” Eddie interrupted gently, pressing his hand against Buck’s. “I just… I need to know. Where your lines are. I need to know you. Everything. And I don’t mean in a hypothetical, cute way.”

 

Buck’s chest clenched. He could feel the steady pulse of the small box in his jacket, reminding him of weeks of patience and planning, of the one step he’d been carrying in his pocket for weeks. But right now wasn’t about that. Right now, this question was all he could focus on.

 

He leaned back, rubbing at the back of his neck, and tried to think. Think? Think? What?

 

The truth was… it was ridiculous. He couldn’t imagine Eddie doing anything that would make him walk away. Not anything realistic. Not cheating, not lying, not even forgetting to refill the goddamn coffee. But… he had to answer.

 

“Okay,” Buck started finally, voice rough, “cheating. That’s an obvious one. Lying, like… about something serious. Something that matters. And…” He hesitated, thinking through every scenario that Eddie could realistically—no, unrealistically—do. “I guess… if you ever... like... deliberately hurt Chris? Or me? Or someone else I care about?”

 

Eddie’s lips pressed into a thin line, nodding slowly, eyes softening just slightly. “Okay… good. That makes sense.”

 

Buck shook his head, frustrated at how much effort this simple, impossible question was taking. “Honestly, Eds… I don’t know. I can’t think of anything else. You’re… you. You’re the guy I’ve been waiting for my whole life to find, and nothing short of the apocalypse could make me leave you. And even then, I’d probably try to drag you with me.”

 

Eddie’s jaw lifted, quirking into the tiniest smirk, the kind that made Buck’s chest tighten. “That’s not what I wanted,” he said softly. “I want to know your boundaries. Even the weird, unlikely, ridiculous ones.”

 

Buck groaned, running a hand down his face, blinking up at him. “You are ridiculous,” he muttered, but he could feel the weight of the question sinking in. Eddie needed the truth, and he would give it. “Fine. I guess… you know, if you suddenly became a sociopath or decided to take up a life of crime… or like, stole my jeep and refused to give it back. Small things like that.”

 

Eddie laughed softly, but there was still that serious gleam in his eyes, like he was cataloging every answer.

 

Buck shook his head again, smiling ruefully. “See? I’m thinking too hard. I can’t imagine you doing anything to hurt me. That’s why this is stupid.”

 

Eddie leaned forward, forehead brushing Buck’s, whispering, “It’s not stupid. I just… I want to know what’s untouchable. What’s sacred. What’s worth fighting for.”

 

Buck’s chest tightened again, and he leaned in, kissing Eddie softly but fiercely. “Everything about you, Eds. That’s sacred. That’s untouchable. You’re mine. I'm yours. No question about it.”

 

Eddie grinned then, a little triumphant, a little teasing, and Buck felt it; the pull of them, the certainty, the tiny spark of mischief that always lurked behind that smirk.

 

“Let’s walk further,” Eddie said, standing and offering his hand.

 

Buck took it without hesitation, letting Eddie tug him along as the waves licked closer to their ankles again. The beach thinned the farther they went, and soon the sound of distant chatter and seagulls was replaced with the soft hiss of the tide and the occasional crash of a wave against the shore.

 

They made small talk, light and easy, drifting from ridiculous what-if scenarios to plans for Chris, to imagining ridiculous treehouses and cabins. Buck was half-focused on Eddie’s animated expressions, the tilt of his head, the way his grin came so naturally, the warmth in his voice.

 

Then Buck noticed something.

 

A stretch of beach ahead was empty, save for the faint outline of driftwood scattered along the sand and a line of softly glowing tide pools reflecting the late-afternoon sun. The water shimmered golden-orange, the sky streaked with quiet pinks, and the gentle hush of waves made it feel like the world had pulled back just for them.

 

But what really caught his attention, was a line of small, solar-powered lanterns nestled in the sand, flickering softly in the waning light, tracing a path away from the water. A couple of driftwood planks had been propped up with little candles balancing on them, the kind you’d see at a backyard party, but here they glowed like tiny constellations along the shoreline. On the other side was a large heart shaped by candles.

 

Buck slowed, nudging Eddie with his shoulder. “Hey… look at that. Someone’s gonna propose. Nobody around, the tide sparkling… it’s… weirdly perfect.”

 

Eddie followed his gaze and let out a low whistle. “Huh. Yeah. Kinda picturesque. Like a movie or something.”

 

Buck laughed, shaking his head, nudging him again. “Yeah, like the part where someone does something romantic and over the top.”

 

Eddie’s grin turned sly, eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh? You wanna play that part?” He tugged him towards the end of the lanterns, into the heart shaped by candles.

 

Buck smirked, rolling his eyes. “Sure, sure, whatever, let’s… do this movie thing,” he said, thinking he was still joking.

 

Eddie didn’t answer. Instead, he suddenly sank down onto one knee in the sand.

 

Buck froze mid-step, blinked, and laughed nervously. “Okay, wow… really? Already?”

 

Eddie’s hands were steady as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, velvet box. Buck’s jaw went slack.

 

“Evan,” Eddie began, his voice low, soft, but carrying that steady, certain weight that made Buck’s chest tighten for the umpteenth time, “from the moment I met you, you’ve been my home. My anchor. My best friend, my partner in chaos, my… everything. I want to keep building this life with you, messy and unpredictable and perfectly us. I want to walk through the storms with you, the quiet mornings, the silly little victories… and everything in between.

 

“So… will you marry me? Will you let me be the person you come home to every night, the person you laugh with, cry with, fight with, love with—forever?” Eddie’s voice carried over the soft rush of waves, the lanterns swaying gently in the evening breeze, painting his face with a warm, flickering glow. Behind him, the sky blazed pink and orange, the horizon melting into the curling surf. Buck’s chest tightened, his heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

 

He tried to speak, to break the weight of the moment with a joke, something absurd to hide the rush of feelings.

 

“No… You’ve got to be kidding me…” The words tumbled out before he could stop them. Because really—wasn’t this hilarious? The perfect, terrifyingly in-sync moment that somehow always defined them.

 

Eddie’s smile faltered, his eyes wide, the lantern light catching the sharp edge of confusion and hurt.

 

Buck froze, heart sinking as the reality of what he’d said landed.

 

“No, wait, I didn’t mean that. God, I—” He stammered, then laughter erupted from somewhere deep in his chest, uncontrollable, unstoppable. Tears sprang to his eyes, glinting in the lantern light, sliding down his cheeks as he laughed at the absurdity—and the love—of it all.

 

And Eddie… Eddie looked like he’d just been kicked in the gut, small and shocked and beautiful under the sunset. Buck couldn’t stop himself, even as he saw the hurt flicker in those beautiful eyes. When he slowly began to rise, Buck lunged forward, grabbing his shoulders, pushing him gently back down onto one knee.

 

“No, wait. I’m sorry. Just… wait,” Buck gasped, fumbling into his jacket, pulling out the box, while his heart was racing. He sank to one knee before the man already kneeling for him.

 

“Edmundo Diaz,” Buck said, voice breaking with laughter and tears both. “God… I hadn’t even finalized how I’d do this. Why’d you have to ruin my surprises? Isn’t it insane how in sync we are? That’s why I was laughing—and I—”

 

He cut himself off, looking into Eddie’s wide, shining eyes, from the velvet box to his face.

 

Buck cleared his throat, wiped at the tears smearing down his cheeks, and smiled. “Edmundo Diaz,” he said again, softer this time. His hands were shaking, the lanterns casting golden sparks on his skin too now, the sea breeze tangling in his hair. He could feel the grains of sand pressing into his knees, cold and wet, grounding him in this impossible, perfect moment. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the sight of Eddie made it impossible.

 

“You—uh, you’re kind of the only person I want to wake up next to,” Buck said, voice cracking a little, “and maybe the only one I want to deal with my dumb jokes and my burnt toast… and my terrible singing in the shower… forever.” He laughed nervously, and the sound mingled with the waves, soft and rolling.

 

Eddie blinked at him, expression frozen somewhere between disbelief and adoration.

 

Buck grabbed Eddie’s hand in his own, holding on like he might drift away otherwise. “I mean it, Eds. You’re the first thing I wanna see in the morning, the last thing I wanna kiss at night, and—” He stopped, chuckling through the lump in his throat. “Okay, that’s cheesy. But you get what I mean. You’re… you’re my home. You’re my people. You’re me when I’m better than me, and me when I’m… well, me. And I want that. I want all of that. With you. Forever.”

 

He paused, noticing the way Eddie’s eyes were glimmering with tears now, how the light caught the edges of his smile. Buck’s own heart threatened to leap out of his chest.

 

“So, Eddie Diaz,” Buck said, fumbling for words again because apparently his brain had melted into the sand, “I know I’m not perfect. I know I probably snore sometimes, and I definitely eat all your fries, and I’m a mess sometimes… but I promise I’ll always be your mess. I’ll always fight for you, and I’ll always be the guy who’s ridiculously in love with you, okay?”

 

He opened the little velvet box, holding the golden ring out, and laughed softly, like he couldn’t believe he was even here. “So… you’ll marry me? You’ll let me be your absolute idiot forever?”

 

The breeze swept over them, salty and warm, the waves curling lazily at the shore. The world felt impossibly soft and bright and alive.

 

Eddie’s voice was small at first, shaky with something that made Buck’s chest ache. “Yes,” he whispered.

 

Buck’s laugh burst out again, joyful and loud, and he pressed a kiss to Eddie’s knuckles, then his forehead, then—because he couldn’t stop—right to his lips, tasting salt and sunset and pure happiness. The sand stuck to their knees, the lanterns swung in the gentle wind, and Buck couldn’t stop grinning.

 

“I love you, you idiot,” he said into the kiss, and Eddie rolled his eyes, laughing through the tears.

 

“No, I love you,” Eddie shot back, and Buck felt like the universe had folded into this perfect little moment just for them.

 

Buck was so happy, he didn’t even think. He just lunged, tackling Eddie gently into the soft, sand and landed on top of him, laughing breathlessly, sand sticking to their clothes and hair.

 

“I—oh my god, I can’t believe this! I’m engaged! We’re engaged! You’re here, I’m here, the sunset’s here, and—oh god—I just—I just can’t!” Buck babbled, kissing the side of Eddie’s face, then his jaw, then—because he couldn’t help himself—pressing a messy, sand-in-his-hair, grin-on-his-face kiss to Eddie’s lips.

 

Eddie just laughed, soft and warm, hands sliding into Buck’s hair, holding him close. “Buck,” he murmured, “you’re ridiculous.”

 

“I know! I know! Ridiculous, but in love! And so unbelievably in love! And you’re mine, and I’m yours, and we’re—oh my god, I’m engaged!” Buck laughed again, half-crying, half-squealing like a kid, his forehead pressed against Eddie’s.

 

Eddie shook his head, smiling, and leaned up to press a soft, steady kiss to Buck’s lips. “Yeah… and you’re mine. Now, put my ring on.”

 

Buck froze for a split second, then carefully retrieved the ring, fumbling just enough to make Eddie laugh again, before sliding it onto his finger. Eddie did the same, their hands brushing, sand falling like little golden sparks.

 

Buck stared at their hands, at the ring glinting in the lantern light, before he pressed another kiss to Eddie’s lips. “I can’t believe this is real. I can’t believe you’re real. I can’t believe this is us.”

 

“You’re mine, Buck,” Eddie whispered against his lips.

 

“And you’re mine! Forever! And oh my god, I get to kiss you whenever I want and call you my fiancée and—” Buck stopped, laughing breathlessly, “oh god, I’m gonna be crying in the sand forever, aren’t I?”

 

Eddie smiled, brushing sand from Buck’s cheek. “Yeah, probably. But I’ll be right here with you.”

 

Buck grinned, kissing him again, heart racing, the waves and wind and lantern glow spinning around them, and for the first time in forever, he felt like everything was exactly, impossibly perfect.

 

For the first time in forever he believed he wouldn’t be left behind. And that was what made him cry even harder.