Work Text:
“I,” Athena says, slowly, “have a lot of questions.”
“That’s understandable,” Eddie says. “Take your time.”
Athena takes two long, deep breaths. The other officer next to her doesn’t seem to know where to look; Buck sees him desperately pretend to be interested in the one solitary picture Eddie has hanging on his wall, like their family trip to the zoo is pertinent to the matter at hand. “I don’t suppose anyone knows about this,” Athena says.
It’s not a question, but Buck is also currently wang-out in front of his boss’s wife, so he has enough self-preservation not to get caught on semantics, now. “Uh, no ma’am.”
“Don’t you ma’am me,” says Athena.
“Sorry.”
The other officer is now almost nose-to-nose to the picture with the force of his feigned ignorance. Athena just looks grieved. “Why, then,” she says, “did you get military-grade handcuffs? Were the pink fuzzy ones not macho enough for you?”
Her tone drips with derision. She’s absolutely going home to tell Bobby all about this. “We kept, uh, breaking the pink fuzzy ones,” Eddie admits, and then, “Buck, don’t preen.”
“I’m not preening,” Buck says, probably definitely preening, but like it’s his fault, okay? It’s good to know the bicep curls are working. “Look, we’re two big firefighters. Those flimsy sex store handcuffs weren’t gonna hold us.”
The other officer coughs. Athena just stares at him.
Eddie murmurs, “I’m going to kill you.”
“What?” Buck says. “It’s true. Do you want to see our garbage can?”
“I’d rather not,” says Athena, which is probably smart on her end, because Buck doesn’t want to know how many used condoms are in there. They’ve kind of been going all day. “For Heaven’s sake, Philips, can you make yourself useful and get them a blanket?”
Philips squeaks and darts out the room.
“We’re,” Eddie manages, “so sorry, Athena.”
“I am on duty,” Athena says. “You will address me by my title.”
Eddie makes a noise like a dying cartoon character. “Sergeant Grant. I cannot even—”
“Eddie,” Athena says, gentler, “if it is okay, I would like to have this conversation when I can no longer see any genitalia.”
“That’s fair,” Eddie croaks.
Buck decides he should probably chime in. “In our defence,” he says, “if we knew you were going to show up we probably would have tried doing it ourselves.”
“I fear to think how that would have turned out,” Athena says, which is so unfair, because Buck knows Eddie has a perfectly functioning toolkit in a cupboard somewhere. Granted, it has more firefighting equipment than the standard American household, but you never know when you’re going to need a hydraulic rescue tool. Buck spares one thought to Eddie jaws-of-lifing them out of the bedframe they’re currently handcuffed too, completely naked, and has to adjust the one decency pillow they’re sharing so Athena doesn’t see his half-chub.
Philips blissfully returns with their sofa throw. “Will this work?”
Eddie looks grieved. “That’s the nice cashmere one.”
“Honey,” Buck says, “our captain’s boss can literally see both our cocks and you’re concerned about cashmere?”
“There’s a reason I take it off the couch whenever we eat.” Whatever Eddie sees in Buck’s face must be enough convincing, because he winces his eyes closed like if he doesn’t see it happen then it won’t count. “Fine.”
Philips throws the blanket at them in a way Buck can only imagine doctors hand out medication to lepers. Buck hurriedly scrambles to cover them as best as he can with one arm.
“Am I safe to come in?” says the locksmith, from outside.
“No,” says Athena, and obediently his shadow backs away from the door. “Philips, can you go into their kitchen and fetch me some alcohol? Whatever is strongest. On ice, please.”
Philips does as he’s told. Meekly, Eddie says, “Are you gonna cut our hands off?”
“What? No,” says Athena. “It’s for me. Consider it tax for seeing both of your penises.”
This is fair.
“Now,” she says. “How long has this been going on?”
Buck and Eddie glance at each other. He doesn’t say anything, but years of being Eddie’s partner before he ever became his Partner, with emphasis, means he doesn’t have to for Buck to be able to spot his hesitance. He gets it: they haven’t revealed this part of their relationship yet, have kept it small and precious and just between them for nearly two months now. At first, it had been to avoid the pressure, give them room to fumble and grow their way into something functioning, something real and do it privately, but along the way they had grown to almost enjoy the secrecy. It had been a way to allow themselves to enjoy it before giving it out to friends and family. Of course, Buck knows their friends and family will be nothing but supportive, and he can’t wait for the day he gets to take Eddie’s hand or waist at a 118 barbecue or birthday party without batting an eyelid, but it’s a big thing, too. A kinda scary big thing.
Not that it matters, anyway, because Buck had brought up the idea of using handcuffs in the bedroom unaware Eddie would look good as fucking sin beneath him with their hands chained together and Eddie did that thing with his hips and Buck’s hand had spasmed and accidentally knocked the key to the handcuffs irretrievably off the bedside table and through the floorboards, and they’d unanimously agreed that if they ever needed to cut keys they’d take a detour to the place on Sunset so they’d never, ever have to see the locksmith man from the place down the road who’d come to unshackle them again only it turns out actual handcuffs needed a police witness to break free and who happened to be on shift but Athena fucking Grant-Nash—
In essence, there were other ways Buck had seen this going.
But they’re here now, completely buck-ass naked under the cashmere blanket Eddie’s probably going to make Buck hand-wash in the bathroom sink, in front of their captain’s wife, who despite her severe expression does seem happy for them, and if there’s anything Buck’s single improvisation class circa 2017 taught him aside from the fact yes-and-ing really does it for girls, it’s how to go with the flow.
So he says, honestly, “A few months now.”
Eddie looks at him, and smiles.
Athena looks like she might want to smile too. It’s hard to tell, though, because her expression is still one of having seen her husband’s colleagues mid-coitus and consequently parsing through all the stages of grief, so Buck understands if her congratulations are belated. “Well,” she says. “I’m very happy for you, boys.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” says Eddie.
“Eddie, I was teasing,” she says. “You can call me Athena.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, visibly relieved. Buck’s boyfriend is such a nerd. “Okay. Thank you. Sorry.”
His spare hand not chained above his head makes a movement. Athena says, slowly, “Please don’t try shake my hand.”
“Yes, that’s a good call,” Eddie agrees, immediately retracting it, “basic hygiene.”
“It’s been places,” Buck says.
Athena stares at him as Eddie hits his head backwards against the bedframe. “Baby, I love you,” he says, “but stop talking.”
“Oh, are we going to pretend we’re still blushing virgins here when I’m chained on top of you? Athena knows where it’s been.”
“Athena knows nothing of the sort,” Athena says coldly, at the same time as Philips returns with her drink. It looks like the nice malt whiskey Chimney got Eddie for his thirty-fifth a couple of months ago, and Athena downs the entire thing without so much as a flinch which is honestly so impressive Buck has to gape at her. “Thank you, Philips. You may call Mr Jones back in now.”
“You can come in,” Philips says, and awkwardly the locksmith skulks in.
“Hello,” he says, looking everywhere except Buck and Eddie on the bed.
To Eddie, Buck says, “Do you also feel like we’re on the world’s worst porn set, or?”
“No,” Eddie says, resignedly. “I feel it too.”
“I can confirm, as an officer of the law,” Athena is saying, when Buck tunes back into the conversation at hand, “that these gentlemen are in no legal trouble and are able to be removed from these handcuffs.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Grant,” says the locksmith, and then turns to the bed with bolt-cutters. It is impressive, Buck thinks, how cleanly he breaks the cuffs when his head is so firmly rotated in the opposite direction. At least the copious casual sex phase of Buck’s early twenties taught him self-confidence; it seems like he’s the only one in this room who isn’t actively wishing they were elsewhere. He’s been naked in front of more people, after all.
Still, he can’t help himself. “We did tell you, Jonesy,” he says. “I don’t know which criminals are breaking out of prison and wrapping themselves around bedframes.”
“You’d be surprised,” says the locksmith, and suddenly Buck is so curious, except then the weight on Buck’s wrist has dropped, and he and Eddie are free. “Thank you. Please never come by my store again.”
“Won’t be a problem,” Eddie croaks.
“See you again in a month, Sergeant Grant,” says the locksmith. “I’ll let myself out.”
“You do that,” says Athena. At Buck and Eddie’s twin inquiring expressions as Mr Jones disappears through the doorway, she says, “It is unfortunately not a rare occurrence that I am having to validate a handcuff-breaking.”
“…Huh,” says Buck. Eddie has taken his newfound liberty to reach to the ground and reclaim the comforter, which had previously been kicked off in the throes of passion. Philips, meanwhile, has taken to studying his watch instead, as he’s too far away to pretend to look at the picture frame anymore.
“I, uh,” Buck says, as Eddie wrestles his underwear back on from beneath the duvet, “don’t suppose we can count on your discretion, on this?”
For a long moment, Athena just watches them, with a gaze so sharp even Eddie stops moving as though she can possibly see below the comforter, like she hasn’t already seen everything. And then, in a voice as firm as her expression, she says, “When and how you choose to come out and make your relationship public is entirely your decision. You have my word. Do not feel obliged or hastened because of this: if you take this to your graves, you have my support and my silence.”
The kindness and total ardour of her statement has Buck swallowing back a sudden lump in his throat. “Oh. Uh, thank you, Athena.”
“Thank you,” Eddie echoes, a little softer.
“It will be soon,” Buck says. “Not—not that it matters. But it will. We’re not telling people because we don’t trust them, it’s just…”
“Nice to have it to ourselves for a while,” Eddie finishes, and Buck, with his newly free hand, reaches out and takes Eddie’s own. Their hands had been separated for too long, and Buck’s palm had begun to sing a little with the loss.
“You don’t have to explain yourselves to me,” Athena says. “I understand. But I appreciate your reassurance, and know that whenever you do choose to come out, so to speak, you will have our endless support.”
“Thank you,” Buck says.
“However,” Athena says, and suddenly she sounds a lot more severe. Buck sits up to attention, and beside him he’s aware of Eddie doing the same. “In return, I hope you can return a favour.”
“…Okay,” says Eddie, carefully.
“On Hen’s phone there exists a photo. You do not need to know the contents of it,” Athena says immediately when Buck opens his mouth, “and attempts to find out will result retribution of some capacity. Let us say this… is not an unknown situation to me.”
Buck’s mouth drops open. Eddie breathes, “Athena.”
“See to it that it is deleted,” Athena says crisply.
“Anything for you,” Buck says. “Seriously. You’re also my hero, by the way.”
“I can see your testicle,” Athena says, and uncaring Buck twitches the blanket further over his lap. “Thank you for the alcohol. Philips, let’s go.”
She breezes out the room in a wind of perfume and awesomeness. Buck moons a little after her. (Seriously – what a badass.) Philips hesitates by the doorway. “Um,” he says, finally, “your guys’ son is Christopher Diaz, right?”
Eddie regards him not without suspicion. “…Yes?”
“I’m Michael’s dad,” Philips says, awkwardly, and Buck sees Eddie visibly age several years. “I recognised your son in the picture. I think I’ve seen you in the pick-up line.”
“…Right,” Eddie says faintly. “Well. Hello again.”
“Hi,” says Philips, and then there is a moment where they just all stare at each other. Philips bobs his head, and darts out the door. Eddie collapses against the bedframe, looking winded and like a man pushed to the brink, and Buck:
Buck bursts out laughing.
“This is not funny,” Eddie half-shouts, but Buck can’t stop laughing, collapsing onto his chest as he wheezes. Eventually, he feels Eddie’s chest shake as he starts to laugh too, and they both lie there in a heap practically weeping. “Holy shit. I can’t believe that happened.”
“Athena Grant saw our dicks,” Buck manages between hysterical breaths.
“Yes, thank you, honey, that was the part I was afraid I was going to forget.” Eddie’s hand sort of absently comes up to pat his head, and Buck rolls off him until they’re next to each other, gazing at the side of his face. He’s truly the most good-looking man he’s ever seen. “What?”
“Nothing,” Buck says. “I just love you.”
It’s like magic. Eddie visibly melts, his eyes becoming big and shiny, losing any worry that existed only moments before. “I love you too,” he says. “And we’re never using handcuffs ever again.”
“What!”
“Did you miss the part we lost the key and had to call a locksmith and Athena came instead?”
“Yeah, and are you not unbearably turned on?”
“No,” Eddie says emphatically, and Buck deflates. “Maybe you should try not being so strong and breaking free of all the sex store handcuffs, have you thought about that?”
Buck grins. “Did that do it for you?”
“You know it did.”
“Mm.” Buck kisses him. “Think I could break through tape?”
Eddie’s eyes darken, and fuck yeah the sex marathon is back on. “We’re getting scissors first and I’m staying free.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Buck says. “Take your pants back off.”
And Eddie, ever the good law-abiding citizen, does.