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Buck goes on ahead to Eddie’s place to announce he’s his subletter, his Freddie Fakeman. Chimney claps him on the back and tells him to meet them at the restaurant, as long as Eddie doesn’t kill him before he can get his confession out.
Maybe Chimney is onto something, because it pretty much instantly turns into an argument. Buck can’t get a word in edgewise to announce he’s Freddie. Eddie’s pissed as hell, telling Buck he won't choose between him and Chris like he wasn't just asking Buck earlier to choose between him and Blaze.
And so Buck gets in Eddie's face. "You tried to get in a literal pissing match with a dog today."
And Eddie goes weird under him. Not stiff, exactly, but like he's trying to angle his body away from Buck without backing down.
"Not a literal pissing match," Eddie says, his voice strained. "I didn't try to hump your leg or steal your new friend or fucking—pee on you to mark my territory or whatever."
Buck tries to picture the sight. Eddie as a dog. He wouldn't be small like Blaze. He'd be a big dog.
Eddie interrupts his train of thought, shoving at Buck until he backs up a step. "You don't own me, or whatever it is this is."
And Buck should be normal about this, because he went to enough history classes in seventh grade to know slavery is really bad and he shouldn’t want to own his best friend. But shouldn't he have some kind of claim on Eddie? Something to show for all these years? So when it just pops out of his mouth, he doesn't take it back. "Don't I?"
Eddie swallows. His eyes widen. He looks so pretty like this, blinking up at Buck all taken aback. Buck shakes the thought away, because Eddie isn't pretty and he’s leaving. Eddie is going to leave Buck all alone, and he can’t think Eddie is pretty, because what will happen once Buck is left all alone with that thought? Nothing good. Buck is sure of that.
"You want to mark your territory then? Do what Blaze would do?"
Now it's Buck who's stepping away, thrown by the predatory gleam in Eddie's eyes.
Eddie presses his advantage. "Want to make sure I know I'm yours? Spraining my ankle wasn't enough. Fucking my new friend didn't do it for you. Clearly, I didn't get the message. So what are you going to do, Buck? Collar me? Write your name on my dog tags so they know who to send me home to?"
Buck lets Eddie crowd into his space now. He lets Eddie come in real close, enough that their chests are nearly touching and Eddie is properly in his face, before he says, "That isn't how dogs mark their territory."
They freeze like that, both of them afraid to break the moment. Buck doesn't know how they walk away from this without fundamentally changing their relationship—but weren't they going to change anyway, no matter what? Eddie is leaving him. Buck isn't allowed to follow him. He can't heel like a dog at his master's side. But there is one thing he can do.
These floors are about to be his anyway, not that Eddie knows that yet.
"Is that what you want, then? Get on your knees," Buck says in a voice that barely feels like his own.
Eddie complies. Buck doesn't know if he expected him to obey or not. He did it so fast Buck didn't plan for what to do now. But if this is what Eddie wants, Buck will do it. He’s not going to start denying Eddie things now.
There's only one thing to do, isn't there? Buck pops the button on his pants. He unzips his fly slowly. Eddie's lips part, his attention fully and completely focused on what Buck is doing. Buck had a beer before he came over. Liquid courage, maybe. More like procrastination. He's ready if Eddie is. This is crazy, isn’t it? Buck shouldn’t be doing this. Eddie shouldn’t be letting him. But Eddie doesn’t stop him, and Buck doesn’t want to stop.
"Close your mouth," Buck orders.
Eddie does so fast Buck hears his jaw snap shut.
He wants to tell Eddie to be gentle with himself, because Buck won't be here to take care of him. That's not right. Buck will be here. Eddie is the one going where he can't follow. Buck should probably tell him to close his eyes, but he wants Eddie to see this. He wants Eddie to know exactly who is standing over him, cock out and ready.
His stream starts slow. Buck's always been a nervous peer, the sort of man who loves when there's a stall available. It's basically the only way he's shy about his body. But Eddie's steady gaze makes it easy.
Buck is careful with how he aims. His stream hits Eddie's cheek, dripping down onto his neck and collarbone, dampening the dress shirt he wore to impress Buck—or Freddie, but Buck is Freddie. As if Buck needs impressing. And Eddie doesn’t need an outfit to do it, not when his face looks like that.
Eddie doesn't flinch. Buck thinks he would, if it were him on his knees. He almost does now, caught in the full force of Eddie's loyal devotion. Eddie’s entire focus is on Buck, a heady power Buck doesn’t know what to do with. Why did he have to discover this just in time for Eddie to leave him? How long could he have had Eddie looking at him like this, if only he’d figured it out sooner? But how much more would it have broken Buck if he had months or years of this and had to let Eddie go anyway? Maybe it’s for the best this is only one night. Buck is going to fall to pieces no matter what. But he still has a chance of putting himself back together, of figuring out how to live in a world without Eddie. If he’d gotten this, Eddie’s expression pure love and trust, without knowing for sure how or when it would end? Buck would never recover from the loss.
There's a strand of Eddie's hair that's fallen out of its position. It's curled slightly, a small piece of Eddie that isn't perfectly put together. Buck brushes it back. Eddie leans into his touch. The slight movement causes Buck's aim to shift. Suddenly, he's peeing on Eddie's temple, and then on the top of his head. Eddie closes his eyes, but he doesn't move.
Buck is nearly done, but he never wants this moment to end. He's supposed to lose this man after all this? Eddie is going to walk out of his life? It’s the longest pee of his life, but simultaneously eons too short.
Far too soon, Buck is empty. He tucks himself away, using both hands. They're shaking. Eddie sways, but he doesn't open his eyes. His tongue darts out, pink and beautiful, to swipe at a drop that's landed above his top lip.
"Eddie," Buck whispers, reverent. He doesn't know what else to say. Maybe Eddie's name is the only word left in the whole language.
It takes him a moment to realize Eddie is crying, hot tears mixing with the remnants of Buck's pee on his face. Buck doesn't know what to do. He's seen Eddie cry before, but not like this. Not silent desperation, a storm that comes out of nowhere to overtake Eddie.
"Eddie?" Buck says again.
"Buck," Eddie says, and it comes out with a sob. He's crying properly now that he's opened the floodgates with Buck's name, loud and messy. He curls into himself, a portrait of a man at his breaking point. On his knees, collapsing. Buck can't leave him there alone. But he doesn't know how to bridge this gap and take Eddie into his arms. "Please don't make me choose between you and my son."
There’s no right answer. Eddie can’t ask Buck to come. Buck can’t ask Eddie to stay.
“I can wait,” he offers, his voice hesitant. But it’s true, he thinks. Eddie is worth waiting for. “Four years—or shorter, maybe, if Chris wants to come back. For you, I could wait.”
It’s true, Buck thinks. He hopes. He’s starting to realize Eddie won’t survive losing him either.