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Buck would like to make it very clear that the media lies blatantly, the people, too, living with your best friend it’s not always good. Not like they picture it, anyways. Buck has firsthand knowledge about this stuff, being here every day, sharing the same roof as Eddie, so you have to believe him–he’s a trustworthy source.
To be completely honest, it’s bad, most of the time, at least for him. But you know what’s actually way, way worse? Living with your straight best friend while you’re embarrassingly in love with him–yes, Buck has decided to admit it—only to himself, that is… Wooho, no one fucking cares. Of course he’d fall in love with Eddie, it’s Eddie.
It can get even worse, though. Like, for example, when a few months and a shaved mustache later, you’re still living with your actually gay best friend while you’re also still embarrassingly in love with him.
Ah, sharing a bed with said straight-then-actually-gay-best-friend, too, don’t forget that. It’s absolutely not good. If there’s someone up there, they definitely hate Buck’s guts for some messed up reason, which is unfair, he’s a good person–he likes to help people and loves kids and animals. Also, since he’s complaining, he’d like compensation for emotional damage, maybe to set up some more sessions with Dr. Copeland.
She’ll have a feast with Buck’s current situation.
The only good, perfect thing about this madhouse is Christopher, of course. Buck adores spending time with him, having him close, always hearing him yell with his squad in videogames, eating up whatever Buck cooks or bakes. Buck had missed him like a lung, that’s the most amazing, smart kid ever, and his favorite person in the whole world.
Eddie, though? That’s his least favorite. Trust Buck on this.
Buck isn’t even exaggerating. He loves the guy, duh, he actually wants to spend the rest of his life next to him, but… Being here with Eddie can be an absolute fucking nightmare. He’s always complaining about the hot weather, and has the nerve to walk around without a T-shirt because of it, or to get out of the shower wearing only a towel, a small one, to be specific. That should be illegal. Isn’t that like, public indecency? Buck feels like a puritan ever since it started happening, he’s pretty sure he’ll find a law against this kind of thing somewhere, surely there must be one!
Should he get a copy of the Constitution of the United States?
He might.
It’s not even that hot, the weather. Eddie, on the other hand? Yes, he is. Totally. Have you seen the guy? But that’s not the point, don’t get distracted.
The point is, Buck is struggling here. It’s a torture, a slow, never ending, torture.
Ignoring Eddie’s apparent need to walk around half naked while probably breaking some -many- laws, and Buck’s completely normal and sane reactions to it—like banging his head against the fridge repeatedly, running out of the house in a rush or screaming in silence every time he’s alone—, everything else it’s so… Mundane. Domestic. Like they’ve been living together for longer, like they were made to. They click, Buck thinks stupidly, knowing he won’t ever voice that thought. Chim and Hen keep teasing them about acting just like an old married couple would, and, it’s sort of fitting, really.
Buck can’t stand it.
He never wants it to stop.
It’s just—it’s all he ever wanted, having this, having them. But it’s not like that, not really…
Unsurprisingly, it makes him feel guilty, the fact that it’s not enough, that he’s greedy and selfish and wants more and more, never being able to just accept what’s given to him, always needing to be clingy and trying desperately to fit in, to belong somewhere, to belong with them, in this case. And he does already, or so Eddie keeps saying, assuring him that this is his house, too, that they’re his family whether he wants it or not—of course, of course he wants it more than anything—, but he keeps wanting–needing more.
It’s close enough to touch, that’s the thing.
Like he can reach it with his fingertips, that’s how it feels, when they pick up Christopher’s friends to drop them all in the movies, and he hears a hushed ‘Dude, I can’t say this enough, your folks are so cool.’ coming from Jack, an agreement-like sound from Lila and Chris just laughing it off with a simple ‘Believe me, they’re not cool at all.’ It feels real, when Eddie brushes off whatever flirty comment he gets on calls, claiming he’s not on the market, locking eyes with Buck steadly—Buck always breaks the eye contact first. It’s funny, or pathetic, he talks a lot about wanting, needing this, but he’s still terrified of the implications—. It also feels within the minimal, smallest distance known to humanity, like he can grab it and have it and everything will be alright, when Eddie looks at him and sees it all, every part of him, unfiltered, whether it is the exhaustion after a long shift, or the happiness he feels when he’s being needed, when he’s doing something good, when he’s helping, the angriness, helplessness when he can’t, the anxiety, doubts, excitement, peacefulness, every emotion and feeling you can name, Eddie just seems to recognize immediately when it comes to him, always having the instinct to react accordingly, with his soothing presence and calm, steady words, like he’s a master at knowing Buck.
And isn’t that –being known so well it hurts – terrifying? Isn’t it unbearable, the thought that if it’s real, if it happens–if only he dares to grab and have and keep it, Buck could be happy for the rest of his life? That it could be alright?
Well, that got dark really quick. Buck would like to be happy, true, but it’s still scary, if he tries and it doesn’t work, it could be catastrophic, this is Eddie. His Eddie, and not only him, there’s Chris, too. They’re everything—Buck cannot afford to lose them, even if there’s a chance it could work out. He’d rather sacrifice his happiness, and it’s not like he’s miserable, far from it, actually. On the other hand —a brighter one, or not, depends on how you look at it—, don’t even get him started on the fact that both he and Eddie share a bed. For fuck’s sake, there should be a limit.
This is not the way normal friends act, that’s the thing, he can’t stress it enough. It’s not normal and it makes the stupid, useless butterflies fly and fly and scream and dance inside of him—how is Buck supposed to act nonchalant about it, ever? For example, Buck shouldn’t know that Eddie’s hair smells like vanilla and it’s as soft as it looks—or the fact that Eddie will rather stab himself before putting on some socks to bed. He shouldn’t know that Eddie is secretly a big softie and so touch starved, always needing to cuddle with Buck in order to sleep or even to nap, God. There’s a lot of limbs intertwined every time, Buck keeps failing to recognize which ones are his and which ones belong to Eddie, they all just mix in a blur. He shouldn’t know about all the microexpressions and small sounds Eddie makes while he’s sleeping, or the way his brow furrows whenever Buck tries to get out of his grasp, tightening even harder his already iron tight grip on him, almost offended. He shouldn’t, really, but he does.
Just like he does know that Eddie is not actually grumpy in the morning, that he just needs a moment—or maybe fifteen minutes or so—to regain consciousness of the world, and it helps if the breakfast is sweet–he denies having a sweet tooth, though. He knows that Eddie will never in a million years admit he needs to wear his reading glasses whenever he’s trying to read the newspaper, because in his own words, his vision is perfect still—, and that he got so obsessed with those TikTok videos about mothers packing their kid’s lunches, and it got Eddie buying stuff like star-shaped cutters, funny toothpicks, natural colorants, and more things, to make Chris’ lunch as aesthetic as possible, without it being childlike—the kid has a reputation to uphold, he claims—, packing it very neatly. Chris sighs deeply at his dad’s antics, of course, but he still accepts it. Buck always makes sure to take a picture, sometimes even recording a quick video of the finished product, and Eddie rolls his eyes but complains if Buck doesn’t send them to him immediately—sometimes he just grabs Buck’s phone in order to send them to himself, because, clearly he knows his password. It might or might not be the year Chris was born plus the day of Jee’s birthday—Now that Buck thinks about it, Eddie might secretly own some Mom Lunches account, to be honest—. He also knows that Eddie, despite all his whines against the weather, absolutely loves and needs to sit outside for a while, under the sun, almost every day, even if he ends up with sunburned cheeks—looking ridiculously beautiful, while Buck prays for his own suffering to end.
And, well, about the other thing. The first time they both shared the bed, once they had gotten ready to sleep after a long day of running errands and sorting out their stuff, Eddie had told Buck that he sleeps hugging a pillow, so naturally Buck simply offered—or sort of demanded, to be a pillow.
It went kind of like this…
Picture Buck, trying to act normal and not in love with his straight best friend, being super cool and chill, completely covered as he should be, wearing a sweater, joggers and socks—he gets cold, alright? Then, picture Eddie, beautiful and hot and funny and amazing Eddie, being as ethereal as usual, wearing only small shorts and an almost see-through loose tank top. Jesus Christ.
Okay, then, imagine Eddie completely throwing himself at the bed, sighing contently and giving Buck a confused look. Buck, who was just staring at the bed, probably with a terrified stare, rooted in his place, the heat creeping up to his cheeks inevitably.
“Stop acting all blushy, man,” Eddie eventually said lightly, rolling his eyes, “And get on the bed.”
Buck gasped, “I—I’m sorry!” he muttered, absolutely not blushing, thank you, then composed himself, grumbled, “You better give me my space and don’t hoard the sheets.”
It was not very typical, deciding to share a bed with your best friend once he moved in with you, in Buck’s opinion. Not when there was a perfectly good couch in the living room, and said friend also owned a perfectly good air mattress that he could just throw anywhere. Or maybe it was typical for most people, for normal best friends, and he was the exception—to be fair, Eddie was his first best friend, Buck didn’t have experience on this—, all because he wasn’t normal about Eddie, all because of the little crush he had on the guy.
Okay, it was not little, nor a simple crush, not in the slightest bit, but still.
Eddie laughed, “Sure, Buck,” Buck rolled his eyes at him, and carefully got into the bed. He was, admittedly, still a little stiff. Eddie eyed him, “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird.” Buck said frowning, totally lying, he cleared his throat, “Aren’t you cold?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at Eddie’s clothes, or lack of them—and that made him wish to bang his head against the wall. It would be a long, long night.
Eddie let out a huff, stretching, Buck didn’t even glance at the arch of his back, he can swear it, “No, actually I’m used to… You know,” he explained, then shrugged.
Buck’s heart stopped at that, arch completely forgotten out of a sudden, “You are not sleeping naked next to me,” he declared immediately, voice high-pitched. “Ever.”
“Of course not, Buck, Jesus. I’m joking. Loosen up, it’s not even the first time we shared.”
“I know! But the pandemic was different.” Buck said, then a shudder went to his spine, remembering the nights he slept curled up next to Eddie, both tired of everything, wishing for normalcy again, closing their eyes to try and forget the horrors they saw. They both had a lot of nightmares back then, the other’s presence always helping.
Eddie studied him, seemed to think about the same thing, “I could take the couch,” he offered eventually, teasing forgotten. “And we can sort it out tomorrow, it’s your bed after all, maybe—”
Buck shook his head, cutting him off, he smiled at Eddie, “No, it’s fine, Eds. We’re both tired, let’s just sleep.”
Eddie nodded after a pause, “Okay. I’m used to hugging pillows, though,” he said, almost flushed, “Don’t laugh at me. In fact, don’t even look at me. Let’s divide our sides of the bed.”
Buck laughed shortly, “Who’s being weird now?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Buck knew it was just Eddie trying to lighten up the mood, trying to make him laugh. Because, yes, Eddie might be a master at everything involving Buck, except, Buck is a master at everything involving Eddie, too, getting him every time, memorizing him like the lyrics of the song he loves the most, knowing him better than the back of his hand. Eddie glared at him, “You worried you’ll hug me to death in your sleep?”
“I’m not,” Eddie said, like a liar would. He kept on separating the sides of the bed. A few moments later, he added, “Done!”
Buck eyed him for a second—his ruffled hair, big pretty eyes, ridiculously long eyelashes, and how soft he looked in Buck’s bed, how right—, telling himself to be normal and to most definitely not declare his love right then, right there. He shook his head, turning off his bedside lamp, and covering himself with the sheets, “Okay, good night, Eddie.”
“Night, Buck.” Eddie said back, after turning off his own, grabbing his pillow to apparently hug, and that was it.
Or that should be it.
Except, Buck couldn’t sleep. It had been at least thirty minutes, and Eddie seemed restless, his breath too even, he was definitely not sleeping yet. Buck considered his options for a while.
It could go very, very wrong, but…
Well, it was the middle of the night, in the morning he could blame it on the tiredness or whatever. And it wasn’t like Buck was very known for his reasonable decisions, either. So, eventually, he made up his mind, and turned around, whispering quietly, “Eddie.”
Eddie opened his eyes immediately, finding his own in the dark, “Hm?”
“I’m cold,” Buck half lied. It was, of course, an excuse to get Eddie to hold him instead of that stupid pillow—Buck wasn’t jealous of an inanimate object, thank you very much—, but he actually runs very cold, alright? “Can you, like… Ugh, you know.”
Eddie breathed, “You want me to hug you to death, now?” he asked, teasing tone in his voice.
“Well, not anymore, screw you.”
Eddie laughed, but scooted the dividing pillows aside—and his own stupid one, then, easily manhandled Buck back into his original position, only to finally, finally tug at him to get him closer. Oh, Jesus, Buck liked men. He absolutely liked men. How come he didn’t realize before, really?
He let out a sigh once he felt Eddie’s chest flushing against his back, and the way he was holding him from behind, “Better,” Buck muttered, briefly touching Eddie’s hand, resting on top of his waist. Again, it was the middle of the night and he was tired, he was allowed to have a break.
Eddie hummed, “Good,” he said, squeezing him. “Sleep, now.”
“Mmkay,” Buck replied, already half asleep. Suddenly, he was exhausted, and Eddie was so comfortable. He could live here. Just before falling completely asleep, he noticed the way Eddie’s breathing stopped being so even.
He smiled to himself, Eddie was falling asleep, too.
Buck thinks he might have heard Eddie mumbling a small ‘thanks’ against his neck… But it might have been his sleepy imagination.
After that, it got pretty normal. The next day Buck had simply stared at Eddie, already in bed, and Eddie had immediately snuggled closer, spooning him. Then, it was an everyday thing, as simple as that.
It kind of applies to the couch, too. Whether they’re just laying there or watching something, it always ends up in a tangle of limbs. They still hadn’t cuddled in the bunk room at the fire station, so Buck guesses they are still very reasonable. They did do it at the station couch, but that was out of a complete necessity: Eddie looked so good and Buck really needed to have him close as soon as possible.
Like he said, it was completely necessary.
Is Buck a goddamn hypocrite, claiming to be afraid of this and then practically infusing his body with Eddie’s all night, snuggling up to him every chance he gets, nearly sitting, shamelessly, on his lap in front of their coworkers and Captain?
Maybe.
It’s complicated.
But it works for them, or so he guesses, as long as no one says the words, as long as Buck doesn’t try to grab it.
Besides that, there’s the fights.
Not like, fights fights. Of course. The fights that they have are very silly and most of the time borderline stupid, God, Eddie, you can’t get mad at me because I made an eggplant sandwich, I didn’t even offer it to you, I know you hate it!
Eddie had given him the cold shoulder for one and a half days because of that delicious eggplant sandwich, by the way. Buck is not sorry at all. It was, again, very delicious.
Also, they have small fights about choosing movies and TV shows, sometimes music, too. Buck isn’t really the cinephile kind, you know? He can’t quite sit still for most of movies, and the TV shows are good as long as they keep throwing him storylines, so, really, he can mostly watch anything without being picky, if it’s a movie he’ll probably start bouncing his leg halfway through, and if it’s a TV show, he’ll concentrate if it doesn’t get repetitive, but he won’t fight about it… Or, he used to not fight about it. Except, Eddie is actually a cinephile, like, he spends hours crafting his Letterboxd reviews—had to explain to Buck that No, Buck, it’s not a box of letters—, carefully redacting them to be funny and relatable and with a hint of emotion. He gets a lot of likes in those, and Buck doesn’t get jealous. Not that much, anyways. Okay, a little bit much. But those people don’t know Eddie like he does, so, screw them. Buck wins. Eddie is a die hard fan of many shows as well, always keeping track on the TV Time app—a lot of likes there, too. Fuck those people, really, homewreckers—. He even has an anonymous Twitter account dedicated exclusively to talk about film.
It's, well, adorable. Leave Buck alone, he has the right to swoon at this pretty guy in his head, okay? Also, to try and obliterate those homewreckers with the power of thought.
And since Buck, ignorant-wise Buck in terms of movies and shows, enjoys to rile Cinephile Eddie up, they keep fighting about what to watch.
Bickering with Eddie it’s good—that is normal, because they’ve been doing it for ages, albeit not for the same domestic reasons that they bicker about now, but it’s still good. Great, amazing, even. Eddie looks beautiful when he’s cursing at Buck.
Don’t even try to laugh at him, he likes a little spice in his life, okay?
It’s even romantic, some might say. Some being exclusively Buck and maybe Freddie Fakeman too, which is not Buck’s alter ego. Perhaps he could rope Maddie into this, except she’s always bugging him about using his words, communicating —telling Eddie about it—, and I’m truly not trying to rush you, Buck, but I have plans for when you guys get together…
Yeah, he’s just going to ignore Maddie. She’s just an hopeful soul, as usual.
Oh, by the way, both he and Eddie? They’ve been having one of these dumb fights for about fifteen minutes now.
“...I’m just saying, Descendants 2 is actually better.” Buck counters.
Eddie groans, hands pulling at his own hair, “Oh my God. You didn’t just tell me that.”
Buck nods gravelly, thankfully holding his laugh because Eddie looks real stressed, “I did,” he confirms, shrugging, “The soundtrack is amazing.”
“Not better than Wicked, God, I’m gonna get sick—I’m… I’ll go to the bathroom,” he says, closing his eyes in pain. Then adds, pointing his finger at Buck, “And I’m taking the remote with me! You won’t put that into our screen.”
Buck really likes the word ‘our’. He almost swoons at it.
“Why not?” Buck asks instead, offended, he actually enjoys Wicked, both the movie and the play—they went to see it on Broadway a lot of times. But, he enjoys this bickering even more.
Eddie takes a deep breath, “Because!”
Buck huffs, just as Eddie is turning around, “You never let me pick anything,” he complains loudly, a sad tone in his voice.
Eddie stretches into a halt, looks at him unimpressed, “We’ve watched Descendants 1, 2 and 3, like, a hundred times, Buck.”
Okay, maybe those are in the category of the few movies that Buck can sit still through. Sue him.
“So, what?” he asks, “They’re good.”
Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, “We’ve got a system for this, dude.”
Sure. Their system consists of: whoever grabs the remote first gets to pick what to watch—or, the one that wrestles it out of the other’s grasp. Or, the one that gets more injured at work, sometimes. Or, other times, the one that’s a teenager called Chris when he feels like joining them.
Buck is just trying to rile Eddie up, of course, but he gets too into it, sometimes. Right now it’s one of those times, “I don’t like that system,” he simply states, petulantly, “I’m sure you got hurt on purpose a few times just so we could watch Superman again and again. You’re fixated on David Corenswet.”
Eddie scoffs an incredulous laugh at the accusation, “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
Buck narrows his eyes, “Am I?” he asks, begging his brain to forget the comments from the crew about David’s personality being incredibly similar to Buck’s.
“Yeah! I wouldn’t—You’re ridiculous.” Eddie says, shaking his head more forcefully than necessary.
“Stop insulting me, asshole.” Buck says, pushing him lightly, “You’ve picked the movies for the whole week.”
Eddie huffs, looks around, “Well, it’s not my fault you’re not very quick, is it?”
Buck groans, exasperated, “Oh my God, Eddie, shut up,” he says, he’s also getting tired from standing up, they usually fight on the couch.
“You shut up.” Eddie counters immediately, like a goddamn kid.
Fuck, he really loves this—loves Eddie, the ridiculous way they’re connected, intertwined. He’s tempted to stop everything and confess his undying love for the guy, dropping to his knees and begging for him in tears to at least date him out of pity.
Ouch. He just hurt himself a little with that.
“Real mature!” Buck exclaims, instead of confessing everything, he rolls his eyes, “I’m not gonna shut up. Ever. I’ll keep talking and talking and talking.”
Eddie shrugs, smiles widely at him, “I’m not gonna shut up either, so!”
“I’m living with a lunatic.” Buck mumbles under his breath—loud enough for Eddie to hear it, because he’s a little shit like that.
Eddie seems to consider it, hums, “Maybe, but I have the remote.”
Buck is going to tackle him, he swears—not in the fun way he would like, though. “Give it to me! I want to watch Descendants 2.”
“No!” Eddie says simply, raising it higher, “I won’t be subjected to that.”
What a dumbass, Buck is taller than him. He could perfectly get it himself, but he tries a different approach, before getting all football player on him. Well, Buck had been a football player for two semesters and a half, back in High School, but it still counts to this day, never mind that it’s been decades.
“Eddie, c’mon, you’re my best friend,” he starts, sweetly, “Give it to me, please.” He even uses his Kicked and Wet and Sad Puppy Eyes, which are no joke.
Eddie doesn’t even miss a beat, “Not a chance in hell, Buckley.”
Holy shit. He’s so hot.
Focus, Buckley.
Buck considers his options for a second. Then, out of the blue he says threateningly:
“If you don’t give me the remote, I’ll kiss you.”
Um.
Okay. He wasn’t that focused, apparently.
Buck swears he doesn’t mean it like—like that, or at least he’ll try to convince himself about it. But he’s already said the words, and Eddie is gaping a little, so he adds, serious tone, “In the mouth!”
Eddie blinks once at him, “You’re threatening me… With a kiss?”
“In the mouth, yeah,” Buck repeats, nodding, and clarifies, “to win this.”
God forbid Eddie thinks it’s gonna be for some ulterior motive that Buck has. He’s gotta make it clear—it’s for the sake of watching Descendants only.
Eddie raises his eyebrows, shakes his head, “You’re not very good at this argument thing,” he comments, almost to himself, then huffs, “There’s nothing you can do to make me give it to you,” he assures, waving at him with the remote in a taunting way.
Okay, Buck is a little lost, to be honest. Is Eddie like, super good at negotiating, not being even remotely phased by any threat, or does he want Buck to kiss him?
Must be the first option, surely. But…
“Are you giving me the green light to kiss you?” he asks, genuinely, maybe a little high-pitched, the dread filling him.
Eddie blinks. “What?”
“What?” Buck repeats dumbly, tilting his head. Then shakes it, “I mean… Whatever, give it to me. Now,” he says, voice getting serious again.
“Nope. Never.”
Buck breathes, tries to be reasonable. Okay, nope, he can’t. He informs him, “Eddie, I’m going to seriously kiss you,” then, “All open-mouthed, even. I’m not even joking.”
Eddie gives him a half-smile, “I think you’re just bluffing.”
“You think I’m just bluff—” Buck repeats, trails off, “Okay, I’m going to count to ten,” he warns, pointing a finger at him.
“Sure, bud.” Eddie says, all mockingly.
God, he’s infuriatingly hot. Buck wants to get burned on him.
Buck starts, “One, two, three, four…”
“This is boring,” Eddie comments, indifferently.
“Shut up, five, six, seven…”
“Just bluffing.” Eddie adds again, inspecting the remote like it’s more interesting that Buck’s counting.
“Eight, nine, ten.”
Here goes nothing.
“I’m about to fall asle—oof.” Eddie is immediately cut off by Buck’s lips on top of his, and Buck was just joking before, he planned on just a chaste kiss but… God, just half a second later, there’s a thud of something being dropped onto the floor, then Eddie grabs his hips to draw him closer, kissing him rather enthusiastically.
And who is Buck to complain? He puts his hands on Eddie’s jaw, and tries to dominate the kiss. It’s wet and desperate and hard, a fight of mouths, tongues overlapping, teeth crashing into each other’s.
He nibs at Eddie’s lip softly and…
Holy shit.
Holy shit, it just registered on his brain. Buck is making out with Eddie right now.
With Eddie (!!!)
There’s got to be a mistake, he thinks to himself. There’s no way Eddie is sticking his tongue down Buck’s throat. Surely. There’s no wa—
Oh.
Eddie bites his lip, now, bringing him back to reality, and Buck almost whines at it. He wants to lick every inch of the guy’s body, really. Also, he just decided he’s going to marry him. Mark his words. It’s not surprising that Eddie’s kisses are just like any other thing he does—perfect, amazing, so good, incredible. But better, even. Buck can’t even think of a metaphor, there’s nothing to compare it to, this is the best moment of his life, right here. Eventually, perhaps many years later, Buck breaks apart slowly, breathless, opening his eyes to the most beautiful view in the world. Eddie, with his face bright red and glistening lips swollen, already looking back at him.
Buck starts, wondering what the fuck he should say—something that does not go along the lines of ‘Please let me be your husband’, he scratches his own flushed neck, takes three steps back, “Uh…” then looks down at the floor, where Eddie apparently dropped the remote. He grabs it as soon as he can, giving Eddie a triumphant smile. “Hey! I won.”
Eddie seemingly comes back online. He glares at him, the tip of his ears pink, “Buck, you can’t just—You can’t just kiss me to win a fucking argument!” he says, almost scandalized. To be fair, Buck thinks to himself, he did warn him multiple times--and Eddie was the one who keep pushing.
Oh.
Oh, this is unexpected. Buck thought that… No, he’s not going to follow that train of thought now, he’d rather focus on this.
Buck’s grin widens, “Right…” he replies, then adds with a teasing tone in his voice, narrowing his eyes, “But it worked, though, didn’t it?”
“No,” Eddie scoffs, shaking his head quickly, “Shut up.”
Yeah, very believable that is, with the way he’s bright red all over. Buck is about to start skipping in happiness. He can quite believe it. He knows Eddie, that’s the thing--so he knows that Eddie liked it.
“Lucky for you, I know something you could do to shut me up.” Buck says, slyly, taking a step closer.
There’s a chance he’s ruining the best friendship he had in his life? Maybe. But Eddie kissed him like a starved man, like he wanted to eat Buck alive.
Maybe it’s not as one-sided as he thought, this thing between them. And maybe it’s not about ruining a friendship, but upgrading it to something more.
Maybe he just needs to grab it…
Eddie lets out an embarrassed groan, covering his face with his hands for a second, “You’re ridiculous.”
Buck pushes it a bit, “And you want to kiss me again, don’t you?”
“I hate you, actually.” Eddie mumbles, cheeks looking like they’re burning up.
“Nah, not at all.” Buck teases, confident tone, despite his heart almost beating out of his ribcage, “You like me!” he accuses. Eddie flushes harder at that, evading his gaze, and it actually makes Buck feel more sure of this, he adds giddly, “Oh my God, you do! You have a school-boy crush on me! Eddie!”
“Not a school-boy crush,” Eddie mutters, almost offended, then gives in, sighing, “It’s a grown-man crush, okay?”
Buck’s grin probably looks terrifying, he knows it, “That’s embarrassing,” he says, without even trying to hide the contentment in his voice. Eddie shoots him an unimpressed glare, so Buck decides to stop being a little shit, “I assure you that I have more than a grown-man crush, I’m heads over heels over you, dude.”
Eddie blinks at him, “You are?” he asks.
Buck laughs big and loudly, feeling his eyes getting wet from the laughter, eventually he calms down, “Eds, I just kissed you to win our fight.”
“Yeah but—”
“Nope,” he says, convincingly, almost vibrating out of his skin, “Totally in love with you.”
No doubt of it, not about this.
Eddie swallows, nods. “Good. Me too, you know?”
Buck smiles widely, feeling his own cheeks heating up, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “I mean, I should’ve known before… With you treating me like your own goddamn Teddy Bear all the time.”
Eddie rolls his eyes fondly, “Well, you’re comfortable… And, you’re one to talk, hm? Asking me to cuddle you because you were cold,” he says, making quotation marks at the word, and a terrible impression of Buck’s masculine tone. “Dumbass.”
“Hey, I was actually cold!” Buck argues, offended, then, at the look Eddie gives him, deflects, “Okay, I wanted you wrapped around me, too.”
Eddie smiles, as if it makes sense, “Fair. I wanted to be wrapped around you, as well.”
“Good.”
“Yep.”
Buck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and sighs contently, a typical ‘Girl who is going to be okay’ move, as Ravi would call it. He doesn’t think he’s ever been as happy as he is right now—it wasn’t so bad to threaten his best friend with a kiss, after all. As soon as he opens his eyes, Eddie is way closer than before, and after a second he just—pushes Buck into the couch, climbing up to him to crash their mouths together. Buck’s hands find Eddie’s waist as soon as he can, immediately returning the kiss with contentment.
Later, already in bed, wrapped on each other, Buck intertwines their hands together and confesses, whispering:
“Hey, by the way, these stupid movies, they’re not really that important to me? I’ll watch whatever makes you happy, though.”
Eddie narrows his eyes at him, seemingly offended, “Are you calling Wicked stupid?” he asks, focusing on the wrong part of the confession.
“Um…” Buck tries, scratching his neck, “No?”
He actually likes it, he stated it before. Especially the costumes. These are very nice.
Eddie huffs out a laugh, kisses Buck’s cheek, “I know you only pretend to care about getting the remote to yourself.”
Buck raises his eyebrows, a little surprised, “Oh, you do?” he says.
Eddie lets out a scoff, “Man, I sort of know everything about you.”
Oh. Buck didn’t think about it after the kiss and everything that happened between them in the lapse of two hours—it felt like mere minutes—, but at some point he must have realized it. He’s sure of it now, it isn’t scary or unbearable, not in the slightest, after all, being known like this.
Actually…
“That’s nice.” Buck says, voice a little too dreamily.
“Or creepy.” Eddie counters immediately, frowning to himself.
“Nah,” Buck brushes it off, squeezing him harder in his arms, “I’m obsessed with you, too, so…”
Eddie smiles at him, all shinny eyes and bright cheeks, he takes a deep breath, then, “Should we go to the courthouse tomorrow?”
“Fuck, yes.” Buck replies without even missing a beat, kissing him again.