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Language:
English
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Published:
2019-11-04
Words:
1,527
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
9
Kudos:
308
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you've got it all figured out (you're still a mess)

Summary:

They’ll air out their dirty laundry one garment at a time.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

 

 

 

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Buck says next to him suddenly. Eddie starts; he’d been dozing off to the lull of the TV.

 

Christopher had been put to bed about an hour ago, and he and Buck settled on the couch with a couple of beers while the game played. If this were a typical night they’d be talking good-natured trash and taking bets over three pointers. But that wasn’t happening tonight.

 

There was an undercurrent of awkwardness whenever they spoke to one another that hadn’t been present since the beginning with the stupid macho shit that occurred whenever a new guy showed up. But they’d gotten past that eventually, and Eddie really did think they’d get past this, too, if Buck would stop apologizing.

 

“I know you already said you forgave me Eddie, but, shit- I-“

 

Eddie cuts him off before he can start;

 

“Yeah, I already said I forgave you, just like I already let you know that I thought you acted like a fucking asshole,” Eddie’s not mad, he swears, he’s just exhausted and aching, both because of the fighting and because of the absolute idiot sitting next to him with his mouth hanging open and he can’t listen to this again, not now.

 

He stands up and goes to the kitchen, taking the empty bottles with him to toss. After a second Buck follows him in. Eddie expects him to start again, but he doesn’t; he just stands there and gives a shrug at Eddie’s incredulous look.

 

Eddie guesses that means it’s his turn to talk. The ridiculousness of the situation makes him snort, but he goes ahead,

 

“We were doing good, Buck. Not just us at the station, but us, you and me. We were doing really fucking good up until you did what you did. And you keep saying that you didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know how else to go about getting your job back, how you didn’t have anything else,”

 

“But Buck, why didn’t you say any of that to me before you did it? I thought we were ok, you were watching my kid, we were talking every day, and you couldn’t think to drop a line, anything, about ‘hey Eddie, I’m so upset about not being allowed back to the job that almost killed me twice that I’m going to take it down and paint Bobby, one of the best captains either of us could’ve asked for, as the bad guy’? You couldn’t have taken one single second to do that? You were too stuck in your own world to mention it at all? See if it was a good idea? Dammit, I could’ve helped you think of something, anything else!”

 

Eddie doesn’t realize that his voice is rising until he’s almost shouting. Hoping he hasn’t woken Christopher, Eddie curses and hits a hand against the counter, softer than he wanted to but not lightly.

 

All during his speech Buck is shrinking back more and more, until he’s pressed against the island with his arms crossed in front of his chest, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. He looks like he’s protecting himself against an attack, trying to make himself smaller and less of a target.

 

The building of anger Eddie had felt dissipates immediately. He’s not going to be someone Buck is afraid of, not ever, not even if he throws a hundred lawsuits at the 118. The other reasons he’d been so mad at Buck’s actions come to his mind again. How he couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t bring Christopher over to visit, how he had to find someone to pummel to let out the frustration at what felt like a personal betrayal.

 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to freak out or yell. I just- want us to be like that again, Buck. The team missed you, Chris missed you, and I missed you- so much I didn’t know how to handle it,”

 

He knows he’ll probably have to come clean about the fighting eventually, but he doesn’t think this is the right time. They’ll air out their dirty laundry one garment at a time. The other things can wait.

 

He takes a step in, managing to catch Buck’s eyes the way he did when Buck was torn up about losing track of Christopher during the tsunami. Buck eventually meets his gaze and drops his arms behind him on the counter; shoulders loosening and a reluctant smile starting to grow. Eddie smiles back, he can’t help it, not when Buck’s finally looking at him like that again.

 

They’re grinning at each other like idiots when Buck’s eyes drop down, down to what Eddie realizes are his lips and the smile on his face freezes for a split-second before he clears his throat and looks away from Eddie, cheeks flushing.

 

And Eddie thinks Oh, and then Ok, and Yes,

 

Eddie doesn’t know for sure if he’s right about this, but he doesn’t think he’s wrong. He’s been almost positive a half-dozen times that Buck’s been into him; pressing closer than necessary or staring at him with a bit too much intensity. And he knows he hasn’t been subtle at all, either.

 

So he steps in again, ignores the confused look Buck shoots him and presses until they’re chest-to-chest and Buck has a hand up on Eddie’s chest, cotton shirt bunching between his fingers. He’s not pushing him away, but Eddie still pauses there with one of his hands against the counter, wrist pressed tight against Buck’s hip.

 

He could use this to tell Buck that this is what he meant by them doing good, what he meant by missing him, why he was so angry at not being able to contact him.

 

But he doesn’t. All he does is raise his other hand to the back of Buck’s neck, pull his head down and press their lips together lightly, then with more force when there’s no resistance.

 

They kiss- we’re kissing, Buck and I are kissing- Eddie thinks, his other hand moving from the counter to a jean-clad hip to the middle of a muscular back as he opens his mouth slightly and runs his tongue against Buck’s closed lips.

 

Buck inhales sharply and pulls his mouth away, keeping his hands on Eddie; the one still caught in his shirt and the other with two fingers hooked in a belt loop.

 

“What’re you doing? I thought you- I thought you were pissed at me?”

 

Eddie groans and looks up, they can’t have this conversation again; he’s going to have to make sure of it.

 

Buck still hasn’t tried to get out of the hold Eddie’s got him in, so Eddie figures he’s safe in leaning in close until their lips are less than an inch apart. He watches the other man’s eyes darken and feels Buck’s breathing come faster. He talks slowly and quietly,

 

“Evan Buckley, I’m only gonna say this once more, ok? I was pissed at you for all of the things I yelled about in the grocery store, and even though I brought them up again earlier, I’m over them, honest,” he drags the hand on Buck’s back around to the front of his chest until it rests over his heart, “if I’m still upset about anything, it’s that the lawsuit and all it’s damn drama kept me from doing this weeks ago.”

 

At that he finally closes the distance again in a kiss much more heated than the one before; this time when he pushes in with his tongue Buck opens his mouth immediately, grabbing at Eddie’s hip tightly and tilting his head to give Eddie a better angle.

 

They continue on like that for a time with a back and forth rhythm that makes Eddie’s head feel light. He pushes tighter against Buck and gets a knee in between the taller man’s legs. Buck gasps against his mouth and bites down on Eddie’s bottom lip sharply enough that it makes him moan. Eddie pulls his mouth away and rests his head against Buck’s shoulder, panting. He tries to quiet his breathing, straining to hear whether they’ve woken up Christopher with what they’ve done.

 

After a few seconds of silence he lets himself relax and leans back to look back at Buck, almost laughing at the dumbstruck look on his face.

 

“You okay?” he asks, more than a little smug.

 

He feels light, almost giddy, and his good mood seems to be contagious; Buck snorts and nudges him lightly in the chest with the hand still in his shirt. The fabric’s probably stretched by now, but Eddie couldn’t give less of a shit. He’d let any number of shirts get completely destroyed if it meant he’d get to have this again.

 

So now they’re back where they started, smiling like idiots at each other. Eddie knows they’ll have to talk about what this is, what it will mean for Christopher, for the 118, but he’s honestly not that worried about it.

 

Here, standing in his kitchen with his best friend in his arms and his kid sleeping safely in his room, Eddie thinks they’ll be good. Maybe even more than good.

 

 

Notes:

Like always, this is a work of fiction and I own nothing.

This came out of nowhere and just had to be written. C/C much appreciated and all mistakes are mine.

 

Title from "The Lotto" by Ingrid Michaelson & AJR