Work Text:
On a day just like any other day, Eddie wakes up to a text from Buck, offering to pick him up for work. His heart skips a beat.
Weird.
That’s never happened before.
He wonders if he should get it checked by his doctor.
He’s about to shake it off when another text comes through, telling him Buck picked up coffee for them, and something deep inside him…flutters.
He drags a hand across his bare stomach, grazing gently just over the place where he felt the movement, but it’s gone as soon as it was there.
Hmm.
Chim had mentioned a stomach bug going around Jee’s school recently, maybe he’s fighting it off.
He butters himself a piece of toast while Christopher fills him in on the fetal pig they’re dissecting in science class, and surprisingly his stomach seems back to normal at the detailed description his son provides.
Buck picks him up for work and suddenly Eddie’s stomach flutter again, but this time it’s accompanied by a quick flash of heat. Buck's inquisitive gaze lands on him, a silent question asking if he’s alright. He nods, but as something unrecognizable flares in his body, he wonders if he actually is alright.
He experiences a myriad of symptoms during their shift that day, everything from a racing heartrate, to more fluttering, to general restlessness.
The weirdest part is that it only happens around Buck. He’s totally fine until he’s standing next to the other man in the locker room or bumping knees with him in the firetruck or chatting with him in the kitchen.
He starts to wonder if Buck’s wearing a new cologne that maybe he’s allergic to, but when Eddie pulls him in for a clap on the back after a particularly impressive rescue, he doesn’t smell different, he just smells like Buck.
Their day goes on and on, call after call, and by the time they get back to the firehouse the only thing they can do is shower off the grime of the day.
Buck takes the stall next to Eddie’s, not unusual, he thinks, but he’s not sure he’s ever noticed this much.
And as much as Eddie’s never noticed Buck’s shower habits, the sounds from a few feet away sound familiar and comfortable. Buck, humming to himself while he lathers his hair, then water splattering as he rinses and shakes out his curls.
Eddie realizes he can picture every movement on the other side of the shower wall even though he’s never witnessed it. He knows the way Buck moves. It’s written into his mind like a poem transcribed only for him. How has he never noticed before that he knows exactly when Buck will shut off the shower based solely on the little huff he lets out when it starts to run cold.
Eddie stays in longer than he normally would. Let’s Buck dress and exit in silence while rivulets of water streak down his face. He can’t bring himself to leave, letting the chill of the long cold shower seep into his bones. Maybe it will reset him. Get rid of whatever’s making today feel this way.
They eat dinner together like they always do, laughing and cracking jokes as Buck serves them his new favorite recipe for beef stew. Something inside of him stutters when Buck reaches past him to set a salad bowl on the table and he ignores the look Hen gives him. It’s a look that says she knows something that he doesn’t, and it makes his stomach churn.
It’s not until he’s laying in the bunk room at the firehouse that the dream he’d had the previous night slams back into his mind full-force and everything starts to make sense.
The second he closes his eyes, the image of Buck on him, writhing and moaning his name fills every corner of his consciousness. In the dream, they’re here. They’re in the empty bunk room after a long call, but instead of taking up the length of the bunk next to Eddie, Buck climbs on top of him. He straddles his hips with his long legs while Eddie sits on the edge of the bed and wraps his arms around him.
He remembers the dream, clear as day, and the feeling of Buck rolling his hips sends a shudder down his spine in the reality of this cool, dark room.
Buck hadn’t wasted any time in the dream, grasping his face and kissing him deeply like they’d done it a thousand times. The memory is so vivid that Eddie’s lips tingle with the phantom touch of his lips. He raises his fingers to them and his heart aches with the want for it to be real.
In the dream, they’d been shirtless. He remembers Buck fumbling with his belt and Eddie lifting his hips to slide his work pants down just enough to free him, already hard and hot, begging to be touched.
Eddie’s never really had dreams like this one, not that he can remember at least. He wonders if this has happened before and he simply hasn’t remembered. The urgency of the dream makes every sexual encounter he’s ever had pale in comparison and he wonders how a single dream can feel more right than an entire existence.
But there was more to the dream. It all comes back to him like a movie. Buck’s hand on him, Buck kissing his neck, Buck taking himself out and stroking the two of them together.
He remembers his name on Buck’s lips like a prayer, the moans choking from his own throat as he gets closer and closer in the dream. Finally, teetering on the brink of orgasm, he remembers the words ripping from him.
‘I love you, Buck. Fuck, I love you so much.’
He doesn’t know how it ended. The next thing he remembers after the dream cut to black is waking up to the text from Buck this morning.
Now, hours later, he’s laying on the same bunk from his dream, hard as a rock at the influx of dream memories that feel real and he’s spiraling.
He tries to snap himself out of it, but it’s no use.
But this is…Eddie’s not…
If he was, he would have realized it a long time ago, right? He’s known Buck for the better part of his adult life and he’s never felt like this before about him. He loves him, of course. He loves him like…well, not like a brother. And not necessarily like a friend either. Buck is so much more to him than a friend, he’s…
But that’s just it, isn’t it? Buck is his partner in every way that’s ever mattered. He’s seen Eddie at his lowest, holes in the walls, crumpled on the floor and he still showed up to patch his drywall. Eddie thinks there’s a metaphor in there, but really it’s just the truth. Buck knows his coffee order and his kid’s favorite movies. He knows Eddie’s fears and how to calm him down after a bad call at work. He never judges him, even when Eddie self-destructs.
Eddie rolls over and tries to bury his face in his pillow. He tries to smother the thoughts filling his head, or at least slow them to a more manageable speed, but it’s no use. Memories flood his mind of every interaction he and Buck have ever had and Eddie feels like an idiot for not realizing this sooner.
He doesn’t just love Buck, he’s in love with Buck.
From first life-threatening call in an explosive ambulance, to sitting on a hospital bed and practically giving Buck his son, to waking up breathless and aching from dreams of blue eyes and pink lips and long legs leading to an expansive chest, Eddie finally knows what he’s been denying himself. He knows the source of his joy, the same joy Father Brian told him to stop denying.
It’s Buck. It’s always been Buck.
Eddie sits up in bed with a deep gasp and looks around in the dark bunk room. Everyone appears to be sleeping, so he makes a mad dash for the door. He needs air. He needs to breathe through this like his doctors taught him because he feels the panic trying to pull him under. He feels the ice in his blood and the fire in his stomach and the thick, heavy air in his lungs and they’re all at war.
His feet carry him up the stairs to the roof, the cool night a welcome shock to his system and he heaves a breath.
The reel in his mind keeps playing, but now he sees images of his childhood. He sees boys he thought he looked up to in school, when really he’s realizing they were probably his first crushes.
He sees himself taking the ballroom dancing classes he loved so much and feels the burn of his cheeks when the teacher’s assistant, a handsome boy a few years older than Eddie, took his waist to teach him the steps.
Then he sees himself again, lying on his back on a hard bed in Afghanistan, much like he had been a few minutes ago in the bunk room, hard and listening to the sounds of other men breathless and panting. The guilt he had every time he joined them, every time he heard their soft moans and liked it, rips through him like he’s there again. It sends him to his knees on the hard concrete of the roof.
His brain circles back to Buck. It always does.
The first time he saw him. The need to get his attention and his approval. The pleasant heat he felt in his belly when Buck told him he could have his back. The heat has been burning there ever since, he’s pretty sure. Flaring every time Buck does something brave or kind and roaring each time he puts himself in danger.
The ice in his veins begins to melt as the fire in him continues to burn, no longer unpleasant, but reassuring and warm.
On his knees, on the firehouse roof, Eddie finally feels whole.
He squeezes his eyes shut and uses skills he’s learned in therapy to calm himself. He picks out sounds in the city around him to calm himself. A dog barking, a car alarm in the distance, church bells. It grounds him. His breathing slows and his heart rate normalizes.
When he opens his eyes, he’s shocked to see the sky has gone from full darkness to the beginning of a beautiful sunrise. Pink and orange glows around him and Eddie breathes. He feels light and free and joyful.
It’s hard for him to believe that 24 hours ago he woke up to a text from his best friend that would change everything he thought he knew about himself. A text that should have been inconsequential, but sparked something in him that set off a domino effect leading him right where he needs to be.
Distantly, he hears footsteps on stairs growing louder until the door behind him clicks open.
Buck sounds like he’s about to say something, but cuts himself off when he sees Eddie, now sitting on the ground, watching the sunset in silence.
He doesn’t speak, but drops himself down next to him to watch the colors in the sky swirl together.
Buck spreads his legs out in front of them, right thigh pressing up against Eddie’s left knee where he sits with his legs criss-crossed. The bell doesn’t ring and Buck doesn’t speak, but the world continues moving around them. Somehow, even without a word, Buck is still waiting for him.
Eddie places his hand on his knee, just a few inches from where Buck’s hand rests on his own. Slowly, without looking over at him, Eddie moves his pinky until it settles on top of Buck’s. A small movement, carrying the weight of his entire world.
Buck’s head raises and Eddie can feel his eyes on him, searching. Finally he turns his head to meet Buck’s wide-eyed gaze and knows his face must betray him. He watches as realization overtakes Buck’s features, softening them until his eyes grow watery in the glow of the morning.
He probably should think about what-ifs and consequences. What if Buck doesn’t feel the same way? What if things don’t work out between them? Will Buck live with him again and will they even still be allowed to work together?
But he doesn’t worry even a little as he slides his hand fully into Buck’s and uses his other hand to tilt his face into his own. When he kisses him, there’s no room for anxiety or nerves or panic. There’s just him and Buck, and the sun rising on the rest of their lives.