Work Text:
Eddie doesn't think Buck wanted them to know about him so soon.
Eddie doesn't think Tommy knew that Buck wanted that either. Considering he showed up at the firehouse that morning with two cups of coffee instead of one and wearing non-work clothes that left him looking soft and how could Buck resist a nice hug from a pair of arms clad in body warmed cotton? Eddie thought Tommy had been there for him---they had been hanging out a lot---and so Eddie still thinks he was in the right for leaning over the railing at the top of the stairs to call down to him.
The last M in 'Tommy' was still sticking Eddie's lips together when Buck suddenly appeared at his side, white-knuckling the metal, staring at Tommy with an expression Eddie still isn't sure about.
Then Tommy smiled up at them, said, "Hey, Evan. Coffee?" and Eddie just knew. It hit him like a shot. Like his forehead striking a steering wheel. Like mud toppling over him. Like being at a party and already feeling the wrongness before the coughing starts. Like being in a hospital bed, aching, and reaching for the sole other body in the room with his voice alone: "Evan."
Evan, Evan, Evan.
Evan.
The Why was answered nearly as soon as Eddie's brain asked it: Tommy likes Buck.
Like likes him. Not a normal like. Not a like that he shares with Eddie. A like that involves romance. That includes the heart. Buck had stopped gripping the railing; it was Eddie's turn now. And he held on so tightly while Buck pushed himself away and practically ran down the steps. He half-jogged half-speedwalked to get in front of Tommy. As if to shield him. Tommy is taller than Buck.
How come Eddie never noticed that?
In the back of his mind, Eddie knew they were talking, but the white noise buzzing in his ears wouldn't let him hear. But he could see them. He could watch them.
Tommy's smile froze on his face when Buck leaned in to murmur something to him. Tommy dropped his gaze, tapping his fingers on the coffee cup. Buck shook his head, saying more things, only for Tommy, and Tommy nodded. Tommy lifted his chin, smile warming over, and Buck took one of the coffees. He took it at random, barely looking.
Tommy doesn't know Buck's regular order.
Eddie remembers this hours later, sitting on his couch, TV on, volume low because he wants to hear Buck clattering around in the kitchen.
Eddie doesn't know what Buck had said, but Tommy had been fine, and he'd waved at Eddie on his way out. Eddie had waved back too late. Buck noticed, of course he had, when he turned around and looked up.
Eddie had at least been able to grin at him. At least he'd been able to do that.
"Should I talk about it?" Buck asks, coming out of the kitchen with flour caked to his fingers, right elbow, white dusting under his left eye. Eddie is taken back to just a few weeks ago when Buck had had a black smudge under that same eye from the cloud kickback from the recently on fire car. Eddie thought Buck'd looked funny, left it on him, and now he's sat here openly staring and half-wondering why he hadn't wiped the smear away that day.
Buck bakes when he's nervous. When he's happy, or sad. Buck bakes using Eddie's kitchen.
"Only if you want to," Eddie replies, so soft and sugar sweet. Buck deserves for his best friend to be too sweet.
Buck nods, averting his gaze, and the loss of blue feels like grief. "I, uh, think I have a boyfriend?"
It's visceral. Vicious and vile. The way Eddie reacts internally at those specific words, that exact confession, from this special person.
Eddie shifts in his seat, muscles bunching at the need to cross his arms and hold onto himself tightly. He keeps himself easy, loose, arm over the back of the couch, the other across his stomach. Hiding the rolling, curdling nausea.
"Is he nice?"
Buck gives him an amused look. "You know him, Eds."
"Is he nice to you?"
Buck's outline softens, ease smoothing out the corners of his mouth and eyes. He laughs below the hum of the TV. "Yes, he's nice to me. He's...actually thoughtful? Like, he thinks about me when I'm not there and I think he enjoys bringing me stuff? He brought me coffee this morning."
"He doesn't know your order." Eddie immediately argues and immediately regrets it. Fuck.
Buck's eyes glimmer. He thinks Eddie's poking fun. Eddie's dead serious. "Well, no, but he will. We haven't been many places together yet. We'll go out to a café, I think. I want him to like that place we went to that one time. Remember--the one with the painted bunnies on the glass?"
"You liked the muffins. I remember, Buck," Eddie forces his tone to be delightful as his mind snags on 'yet'. More places together. More time together. More. More. More.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
His damn leg still aches from where Buck's loud jealousy body slammed him into the concrete. Now Eddie feels like his bones are steel and Tommy's are glass. Eddie can't be jealous because Buck was jealous and now he won't be because Tommy is now going to be choosing Buck over Eddie every single time.
Because Tommy said "Evan".
But he'd also brought Buck the wrong coffee order when Eddie wouldn't have.
"So," Buck hedges with his entire body, "we're okay? Me and you?"
And Eddie hates this. Hates how Buck folds in on himself when he's unsure or insecure or thinks he's doing something disappointing.
But he can't be that---Eddie has never been disappointed by him. Confused. Angry. Hurt. Sure, all those things, but never, ever disappointed.
"I don't know, Buck," Eddie sighs dramatically, "you'll have to refresh me on all your girlfriends to see how many resulted in a falling out between us." He held up a fist, arching a brow. "I'm ready to count."
Christopher's sleeping so Buck's laughter is a whisper. It doesn't matter; Eddie can hear him. Shaking his head, Buck sits beside Eddie, slinging an easy arm around his shoulders, pulling him close for a hug. "Thank you."
Eddie doesn't say 'you're welcome' since there is nothing Buck has said that needs that. Eddie doesn't want Buck thinking that dating a man would need a phrase like that. Something throwaway and beseeching. Instead, he drops his arm from the back of the couch to Buck's shoulders, holding his arm, and holds himself steady. Steady, steady, Diaz.
His neck aches.
He wants to lean in, closer, so close, and...press their foreheads together, or their cheeks. Skin to skin that's not from their clasped hands. And...oh...and he wants to give Buck his coffee order every morning, afternoon, and night. Whenever he wants. Whenever.
Buck stays in the circle he's started and Eddie doesn't think about ending.
"What do you think about Tommy? I know you've hung out with him a bunch lately." Buck moves, not far, putting his cheek on Eddie's shoulder, picking at the flour under his nails. Eddie's collar is white. "Do you like him?"
Eddie rubs at Buck's bicep. "He's a fun guy."
"Yeah, Eds, I know how fun he is." Buck flares his eyes, settles more into the dip of the couch. "I was kinda hopin' for something deeper than that."
"I don't know, Buck," Eddie says. "He's nice to be around. Talking to him was easy. I wasn't paying attention to his meter of dateability."
"Red or green, do you think?" Buck muses.
"Definitely in the middle." Eddie says. "He did take me to Vegas in a helicopter."
"And that's still in the middle for you?" Buck tilts his head back to see Eddie's face. He's got a playful furrow between his brows that Eddie smiles at. "Would there be a hint of green if it had been a private jet?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"Whether or not there was free Wi-Fi."
Buck bursts out laughing, covering his mouth, and Eddie's fingers twitch to pull at his wrist. To uncover and to hear. To listen. To remember.
He's beautiful when he laughs.
And the shock comes. Of course it does. It ripples throughout Eddie's body from his ears to his knees. His cheeks grow hot and the nape of his neck prickles. But, Buck's beautiful all the time, and Eddie has realized that for years.
Since that fire hydrate ruptured downtown on the hottest day of the year and the sun turned the water golden on Buck's skin.
Eddie adores him.
"You're happy."
Buck giggles, wiping at his mouth, must be tasting chalky flour. "What? Yeah, I think so? I feel good." He smiles directly at Eddie. "It's nice."
"You're nice," Eddie tells him. "You deserve it." Everything. Anything.
Buck's smile pinkens his cheeks. "You want to help me decorate some cupcakes?"
"Only some?"
Buck blows a raspberry. "C'mon, Eds, I'll only let you ruin half."
"Ruin?" Eddie digs his fingers into Buck's sides, skating over his ribcage, each bump on the pads of Eddie's fingers electrifying him. "Evan Buckley, you---"
"Truth hurts, Eddie!" Buck squirms, nearly falling off the couch in his escape.
Eddie misses him, and Buck's only an outstretched arm away. Eddie stands, moves in, filled with Buck's body heat. "Tommy's going to be great for you."
"That sounds like a threat."
"Maybe it is."
"Eddie, have you been threatening my girlfriends, too?"
No, but maybe he should've. Maybe he should've been doing a lot of things. Eddie shrugs, heading towards the kitchen, his mind fogging instead of clearing. "I'll feel better warning a man than I would a woman."
"Why?"
Because I think this one is going to stay. "I'm a street fighter, Buck," Eddie jokes. "I live for the high of unsupervised punches."
"Hey," Buck grabs his shoulders, shaking him a bit as he follows him into the kitchen. "You promised to fight me first."
"Go for the title," Eddie repeats, butterflies soaring up his throat. And he shouldn't be thinking this: Had Buck been flirting with him?
That day at Buck's place in broad daylight with the taste of beer on Eddie's tongue and Buck angled against the kitchen island. Oh. Eddie shuts his eyes. Oh.
His entire being is alight.
Buck moves around him, checks the timer on the oven, grabs the mitts with labeled plants on it he saw on Amazon and just had to have. He slips them on and Eddie fucking hurts to see those strong, careful, gentle hands disappear.
He wants them back on him. Buck doesn't even have to touch him bare skin to bare skin. It can be over cloth. As long as they're back on him.
With Buck's back turned to him as he gets the cupcakes out, Eddie parts his lips, and mouths at his best friend: 'I love you.'
God, he hopes that Tommy is the best boyfriend, crafted specially for Buck, because if he's not, then Eddie will become something unworthy of Evan 'Buck' Buckley.
And they couldn't have that, could they?