Bnayy
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Summary
“Do none of you care about the children? It’s a bachelor auction, and you, my friend, are a bachelor. Abracadabra, put your name on the list.”
“I can’t,” Eddie repeats. He can’t. He cannot. “I’m not.”
“You’re not? Since when?” Chimney frowns. “Who?”
It’s not Eddie’s fault that, at that exact moment, Buck walks in. So it’s not his fault that he opens his mouth and says, “Buck.”
Or, Eddie trips and falls into a lightly fraudulent HR-disclosed "consensual romantic relationship" with his best friend. Really, if you think about it, it's a win-win.
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"Eddie?" Shannon picks up on the fourth ring. "Everything okay?"
"I kissed a man," he says.
The silence on the other end stretches for nine thousand years. Eddie can hear Shannon breathing. He can hear his own heartbeat slamming against his ribs. He stares at the apartment building through his windshield, at the lit window on the fourth floor that might belong to E. Buckley, and waits for his ex-wife to say literally anything at all.
"You what?"
"I kissed a man, Shannon. Just now. I was delivering food and he opened the door and I just— I kissed him. On the mouth. And I don't know why."
Another silence. Then a sound Eddie recognizes with dawning horror as Shannon trying very, very hard to suppress a laugh.
"Shannon."
"I'm processing."
"You're laughing."
"I'm processing." She fails spectacularly. "I'm sorry, I just— you kissed a man? Edmundo Diaz? The same Edmundo Diaz who wouldn't watch Brokeback Mountain with me because it made him 'uncomfortable'?"
"It did make me uncomfortable!"
"Yeah, Eddie, I'm starting to understand why."
Or,
Being kissed by your Uber Eats delivery driver? Worse things have happened. -
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The boyfriend looks at Eddie's arm, looks at Eddie's face, does whatever math drunk people do when they're deciding whether a fight is worth it, and somehow arrives at the correct answer. He grabs maybe-horse-Ashley by the elbow and pulls her away, muttering something about firefighters that Buck doesn't catch because he's too busy trying not to pass out.
Eddie turns around. His hand is still on Buck's chest.
"Seriously?" One eyebrow up. Not angry yet, but getting there. "We've been here an hour."
"He came at me!" Buck throws his hands up. Outraged. Innocent. An absolute victim of circumstance and nothing more. "I was just talking to her."
"You were practically on top of her."
"That's just how I talk to people, Eddie. I'm a leaner. It's my thing."
Eddie stares at him for a second. His hand drops from Buck's chest and he shakes his head, turning back to the bar.
"Get yourself a drink," Eddie says over his shoulder. "And stay out of trouble for five minutes."
He makes it roughly eleven minutes before he does something stupid again.
Or,
Buck is completely normal about Eddie shoving Blue to defend his honor. Really. He is.Series
- Part 1 of no grave can hold my body down
Bookmarked by Bnayy
10 Mar 2026
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Summary
Eddie’s massage therapist is Briana.
He confirmed this six times: twice on the website, once during a phone call he made from his truck in the grocery store parking lot like it was a covert operation, three more times in the confirmation email.
"Eddie?"
He looks up.
That is not Briana.
The guy standing in the hallway entrance is tall and built like someone whose job description wildly undersold the physical reality. There's a birthmark above his eye that shouldn't work but does, way too much, and his scrubs fit him well. They — okay. They fit him obscenely well, actually.
His arms. God, his arms. They're just arms. Everyone has arms.
Eddie is suddenly, involuntarily, thinking about what it would feel like to have those arms braced on either side of him. Or around him. Or holding him down.
Which is not a thought he's ever had about a man's arms before. He's pretty sure. He's almost sure. He's going to move on from this.
He is going to stop looking at the arms.
Any second now.
Or,
It's just a massage. Eddie can survive that. Right? -
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“What do you want to do?” Buck asks. It feels like a safe enough question—something neutral, not too leading.
Eddie’s brain does not, apparently, think so.
“Touch— myself,” Eddie blurts, before his entire face flushes. He presses a thumb into the corner of his eye, nostrils flaring as Buck stares, jaw hanging open.
For a long, horrible moment, neither of them says a word.
OR: fate forces Buck and Eddie’s hands when they get doused with truth serum.
Series
- Part 8 of cjo + 911