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Somehow, they always end up here.
Buck thinks about it as he moves around his kitchen, a small smile playing at his lips at the hushed voices of Eddie and Christopher getting ready for bed. Their laughter floats past the stillness of the apartment, up and over the loft to wrap around him like a cozy blanket.
This isn’t something he’s ever envisioned himself having.
There was a time, where all Buck wanted was someone to share his life with the way he was doing with his best friend right now. But as he navigated the world of dating, he realized that most people his age — at least the ones he’s met — aren’t looking to settle.
Too young, too early, too stupid — only a few things Buck’s heard in response to any of the times he’s asked. And he gets it, right? A few years ago, he probably was in the same boat. If anyone had asked him, he might’ve given an answer along the same lines.
But he’s beginning to realize that the Diaz boys have turned his life around in many more ways than just one.
Buck isn’t stupid. He hears the comments people make about his and Eddie’s relationship. He knows the look on Hen and Chim’s faces, he’s seen the glint in Bobby’s eyes and he sees the teasing smirk on Maddie’s face every time the topic comes up.
All of that is irrelevant, because Buck knows what lies between him and his best friend.
There’s an inherent trust between the lines of his and Eddie’s lives, a crackling energy neither of them have ever been in a rush to define. Eddie lets him in more than Buck would’ve thought possible, and Buck shares his life with his best friend in ways that he wouldn’t have imagined.
Christopher is startling proof of all of that, because Eddie’s world revolves around his son. There is no other honor as great as being trusted with him.
Christopher, who’s probably digging his pajamas out of the drawer that Buck keeps for the Diaz boys upstairs. Eddie, who’s probably slipping on an extra pair of Buck’s sweatpants, and then will probably come down to complain about how long they are on him.
Buck laughs to himself, swiping the rag over the counter one last time before tossing it in the sink.
“What’s so funny?” Eddie’s voice comes from behind him, warm and soft. Buck’s smile only grows as he turns to face him, leaning against the counter. Just like he predicted, Eddie’s clad in one of Buck’s sweatpants, the worn gray ones he always goes for. He’s tugging restlessly at the long cuff trailing behind him.
“Christopher down?”
“Like a light. School tired him out today,” Eddie answers absently before huffing and pulling the waistband up. “Why are these so long, didn’t I roll them up last time?”
The familiar complaint only makes Buck laugh. “They were washed, Eddie. Why don’t you just get a few in your size to leave here?”
He laughs harder when Eddie grumbles and moves him aside to pick up the tied trash bags. “These are comfortable.”
Buck lets him be, watching him as he leaves to take the trash out. It’s not until they’re seated on the couch, a bowl of popcorn and two beers in front of them, that Buck opens his mind up to this domesticity again.
It’s been a while since they’ve watched a movie without a singing cartoon, and Christopher falling asleep early drops the opportunity into their lap. It’s Eddie’s turn to pick tonight, but if someone asked, Buck couldn’t tell them what they were watching, because he was so busy watching his best friend’s expression.
Eddie’s saying something about whatever’s happening on TV, gesticulating wildly with a light in his eye, and Buck can’t really bring himself to think of anything else.
Because this Eddie isn’t quite the same Eddie he is outside the four walls of either his own home or Buck’s loft. Buck’s seen him nearly everywhere — at work, at the grocery store, on calls, at Christopher’s school, on the phone, at the freaking aquarium , but he never sees Eddie like this in any of those places.
Buck knows what a privilege that is, whether Eddie realizes what he’s doing or not.
He’s thought about all these little quirks a lot. Like the fact that Eddie talks more with his eyebrows and facial expressions than he does with his voice, and the way that he’ll prop his hands up on his hips to give himself a casual confidence that shouldn’t be as attractive as it actually is.
When he first met Eddie, he probably would’ve described the man as one of few words. Now, he knows better — Eddie opens up in different ways but he saves the words for when he knows he'll be heard.
It’s not a fact Buck advertises in front of everyone, something to keep just for himself, but he can feel the glow of happiness whenever Eddie does talk animatedly to him.
The thing he’s noticed most of all is that Eddie talks in contractions, whenever he does bother to use his words. It’s almost as if the less of himself he puts out there, the less people can take from him. Buck’s heart hurts for it, because he’s seen Eddie as a dad, gently encouraging his son to bloom unapologetically, teaching him that he has just as much right to take up the spaces that everyone else does. But for himself...Eddie asks for nothing.
Sitting here, watching the soft smile and gleam in Eddie’s eyes, Buck is hit — again — with the realization that he wants to be the one to give Eddie everything.
He wants to always be the one Eddie talks to when he’s excited about something. He wants to be the one Eddie’s eyes light up for. He wants to be there for Sunday mornings, Monday afternoons, Wednesday evenings, Friday nights, and everything in between. He wants to be able to reach out and take Eddie’s hand in his own instead of sitting shoulder to shoulder with him the way they are now.
Still, Buck holds himself back from saying any of it, smiling widely when Eddie quirks an expectant eyebrow at him.
“You weren’t listening, were you.”
“I totally was,” he scoffs, taking a swig of his beer. “I like listening to you talk.”
The words leave him unbidden, but they make Eddie settle more firmly against him so Buck can’t really complain. Still, he can’t really stop sneaking looks at the man beside him as the movie goes on, far too enraptured.
It’s a dangerous game, to have him so close, and to be so obviously staring at him, but he’s feeling mellow and happy, so tonight, he doesn’t really care if he flirts with the energy surrounding the two of them. They might have not been in a rush to define it before, but Buck can’t help but think of what would happen if they did.
“Are you going to tell me what has you so quiet?” Eddie asks after a while.
Buck hums, thinking this over. “Depends. Are you ready to admit that you won’t get your own clothes because you like wearing mine?”
Eddie laughs, turning to face him completely by pulling one leg up on the couch. Buck mirrors him, the same smile on his face. Now, their knees are pressed together and Eddie’s so close and open and grinning at him, and Buck feels it stronger than any of the alcohol he’s consumed tonight.
It’s a high that goes straight to his head.
“If that’s what you need, then yeah. I like these better and I’m never buying my own.” Eddie readily offers the information, enough that Buck doesn’t know what to do with it quite yet. So he stalls by reaching for where the cuffs of the sweatpants practically dwarf Eddie’s feet, painstakingly rolling them up inch by inch. Eddie doesn’t interrupt or push, just laughs and takes another sip of his beer.
“You ever think…” Buck rolls his lips into his mouth, unsure of where to start. He stares at where smooth, golden skin glows at the base of the rolled-up hem, wonders if it’s okay to wrap his fingers around Eddie’s ankle to ground himself.
Two light taps against his temple make him look up to where Eddie’s looking at him earnestly. “What’s going through that head of yours, Buck?”
It’s Eddie.
“It’s you,” he blurts out before slapping a palm over his mouth, silently cursing himself. Eddie, to his credit, only looks slightly confused, but realization is beginning to dawn on his face, and Buck can’t really think of what’s worse — Eddie being confused at what Buck’s getting at, or him realizing what he wants to talk about. Sighing, Buck removes his hand, dropping it into his lap. “That didn’t come out right. I mean...you ever think about what it would be like if it was like this all the time?”
“What would, you and I?”
“Yeah. Like...just look at us right now. Look at us from the past few months. The three of us have hardly spent one night away from one another. You and I are glued together at work. We have a schedule to pick up Christopher, and Carla doesn’t come over as often anymore. Our friends invite us as a pair the way they do the other couples.” He’s fully aware he’s rambling, but he can’t stop, needing to get this point across. “Don’t you see it?”
“I do see that. I just didn’t know if we were ready to take that step officially, you know?” Eddie shrugs, reaching forward to unclench Buck’s fingers from the fist he’s inadvertently formed. “I think we’ve all been through a lot in the past few months too. But if you feel ready to jump into the deep end, then I’m all for it, too.”
The words don’t compute immediately, but when they do, Buck lets out a whoop of delight, laughing at the struck expression on Eddie’s face. He offers an explanation anyway. “I was thinking about it when you and Chris went upstairs, what it would be like to give into the urge to finally step over the line.”
“I think we raced past the line a long time ago,” Eddie says, leaning in to brush a thumb across his cheek. They’re only pressed up from knee to foot, but somehow this feels more intimate than if Buck had pressed his body against Eddie’s completely.
Though, not a bad idea on either counts.
“So you’ve thought about it, too, then.”
Eddie flicks his gaze upwards, locking eyes with him before speaking again. “You’re all I ever think about, Evan Buckley.”
Buck hardly gets the chance to process what’s just happened before Eddie’s lips are on his, soft and warm and unthinkable. He immediately opens himself up to the kiss, cursing the position they’re in when he can’t pull Eddie closer.
Eddie seems to realize this because he leverages himself up on his knees — not pulling away, but pushing Buck back into the cushions. The weight of him presses him into the cushions and the dichotomy between the hard line of Eddie’s body and the soft cushions adds another layer to their first kiss, but Buck’s finally doing what he’s wanted to do for so long .
He’ll take what he can get as long as he doesn’t stop.
He doesn’t know how long they lay there, exchanging soft kisses, but when they finally pull away, Buck can see Eddie’s kiss-swollen lips, a smile flitting across them. The sight burns at the base of his spine like a flare, but he doesn’t do anything about it, instead lifting a hand to brush across the stubble dotting his best friend’s jawline.
"Would you have ever told me?"
“A future with you is all I ever see,” Eddie says quietly, another string of words presented straight from his heart with a held breath. "I wouldn't be able to let you go, ever." Buck beams up at him, pulling him back down into another kiss.
Carding his fingers into the hair at the back of Eddie’s head, Buck gives a little tug as they pull away yet another time. “You, Eddie Diaz, are everything I’ve ever wanted.”
There aren’t many more words exchanged between the two of them that night, but those say it all anyway.
Eddie's all he's ever seen, too.
He's all he's ever wanted.