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"So all four of them cancelled on you?" Eddie asked as he plopped down on Maddie's couch.
"Well I wouldn't say cancelled, per se," she replied as she grabbed another glass from the kitchen. "They just had—things that came up."
"So they cancelled on this because of something else."
Maddie paused, looking over at Eddie for a moment, who had a slight smirk on his face.
"Yeah, I guess they did."
...
Eddie befriends Maddie over wine nights, which causes him to figure out the things that he really wants out of life
Bookmarked by stylesnmeg
11 Sep 2026
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“Holy shit, Eddie. You weren’t kidding. You have a hot husband,” is the first thing Greta says 30 seconds into Eddie pretending he’s not freaking the fuck out about pretending Buck is his husband at his barber’s lesbian wedding.
He kind of feels like he’s going to puke. This was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea.
Or, a classic case of fake dating a wedding.
Bookmarked by stylesnmeg
08 Sep 2026
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Running to the frontlines from a childhood he never had. Taking a bat to the wall with his son in the next room. Having an affair with the spitting image of his dead wife.
Eddie knows he’s never been good at grieving, knows he’s never been good at losing what little he allows for himself in the first place. This is why he also knows his coping mechanisms can’t possibly get any worse.
Buck, as he so often does, makes him reevaluate his assumptions.
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Evan Buckley dies behind a wall of glass. It’s a shame that when he’s revived not three minutes later, no one is informed.- Language:
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Bookmarked by stylesnmeg
08 Sep 2026
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Eddie starts giving Buck gold star stickers for doing basic responsible-adult things.
Buck complains about it constantly.
He also keeps every single one.
Then Christopher and Theo get involved, the whole thing gets wildly out of hand, and Buck discovers that apparently fifty gold stars gets you an Eddie.
Bookmarked by stylesnmeg
08 Sep 2026
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"Leave it," Eddie says, his voice pulled taut like a wire about to snap, tight enough to hum.
Buck looks at him, and Eddie’s whole body has gone so rigid he looks carved from stone, but Buck will ruminate on that later. But he can't exactly leave his phone under the seat for the next eight hundred miles, it's got his whole life on it, every stupid photo he's ever taken of Christopher and Eddie and Eddie and Christopher and, embarrassingly, just Eddie, so many just-Eddies, an entire hidden album of candids he'll never admit to because they constitute evidence of something he's been pretending he doesn't feel.
"I can't leave it, it's my phone. It's got— hold on, I think it slid under your seat."
“Buck, don’t.”
It’s as if Eddie doesn’t even know him, because Buck has never once heard the word don’t and responded with anything resembling obedience. So now he’s stretching across the center console with one hand braced on Eddie’s thigh for leverage, the other reaching blindly into the dark gap beneath the driver’s seat, and he’s aware on some level that his positioning is— that he’s essentially— that his head is—
He’s in Eddie’s lap.
Or,
What's a little road-head between friends?- Language:
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Bookmarked by stylesnmeg
08 Sep 2026