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The lights in the crowded room are way too bright. They flash over Eddie's face in various shapes and colors, matching the rhythm of the, in his opinion, god-awful music the DJ is currently blasting through the speakers, while Eddie patiently waits for the bartender to finish making their drinks. Eddie looks over at the 118, sitting all together in a booth mostly hidden away from the other people here. He catches how Buck starts animatedly gesturing with his hands, probably ready to launch into some animated explanation about a, no doubt, niche topic.
The entire 118 is hanging out at The Firehouse — not the actual firehouse, but the infamous bar with the same name, capital T, capital F, a few blocks away. Their 24-hour shift had ended with a particularly rough call. There had been three casualties. And Eddie knows that they did everything they could and that it could have been much, much worse. But it never gets easier when there are bodies to be carried away and loved ones’ lives about to be changed for good.
So, going out with the team, it’s not just a tradition. It’s a need. They all need this, need to put away all the horrors and the difficulties of the day and just try to relax for a little bit. And even though Eddie doesn’t feel like it at all, he tries. He does the one thing he does find easy, which is focusing his full attention on Buck and listening to his rambling.
He catches the end of Buck's rant as he arrives at their table, clutching his and Buck's drinks in his hand.
“—so yeah, that's why you should never leave your cats alone during a thunderstorm.”
Eddie can't help the fond, probably obvious smile creeping up his face as he passes Buck his beer.
“You having a good time?” he asks. Buck reacts to his voice almost instantly as he turns around in his seat. Eddie swears he can see Buck's eyes sparkle. They look like an ocean does when the sun shines down on it. Glimmering. Beautiful.
“He was just telling us all about cat safety during thunderstorms,” Hen replies from across the booth. “It was very informative, actually.”
“How do you even know that? You don’t have a cat. Or any pet, for that matter,” Eddie asks, amusement lacing his voice.
Buck just shrugs and smiles. “I just do. Oh, Eddie, by the way, look,” he raises his phone up to Eddie’s face, a bright blur in front of him. Eddie has to squint his eyes a few times before he can actually read what’s on screen.
Los Angeles Sun Festival 2024 Line-Up: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Paramore join setlist
“I stumbled onto the article this morning! Isn’t that amazing? I bet Chris would love to go and see his favorite bands. I already called the event manager of the festival. He told me there’s a thing called Accessibility Passes, giving us early entry so we can be somewhere at the front, seated.”
And Eddie, he just– he melts. Because, yeah, Chris would love to do just that. He’d be over the moon to go, actually; Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance are two of his favorite bands. And Buck looking up stuff to do with Chris and Eddie, that isn’t new. Not at all, actually. Buck has been doing things like this ever since he met the kid. But it still takes Eddie a little bit by surprise every time he’s reminded just how much Buck cares about that kid as if it were his own son.
“Eddie?”
Eddie belatedly realizes he hasn’t actually answered Buck yet. Instead, he’s just been standing there, looking at Buck like a love-sick fool, no doubt.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah, Buck. That’s honestly amazing. He’s going to be so excited when he sees that,” Eddie replies. Buck nods along enthusiastically.
“So, should I book it?” Buck asks.
Eddie nods enthusiastically. “Yes, definitely!”
Eddie is about to ask Buck what other artists were already announced, when he notices Buck’s crutches laying next to him on the ground. He gestures towards them.
“You alright?”
Buck nods. “Yeah,” he replies. “Just– couldn’t really lean on my leg after our shift. I must have done some damage jumping from the rooftop of that car, or something.”
Eddie eyes him carefully.
“It could also be from standing too long. That last call took a while and you were standing on your feet practically the whole time,” Eddie replies.
“I’m a firefighter, Eddie. I can’t just sit down when I feel like it. Besides, it’s nothing too bad,” Buck replies, a small smile on his face. Meant to be reassuring. However, Eddie can read Buck like a book. He sees how his eyes spell out the it doesn't matter, I’m used to it.
Eddie levels him with a look of his own, something along the lines of you don’t have to pretend with me. You’re not a burden for being in pain.
“Just– let me know, next time,” Eddie replies. Let me know so I can take care of you.
Buck gives him one of his Buck smiles – the ones that light up the whole room and make Eddie’s stomach feel like there’s a swarm of butterflies waking up from hibernation – and Eddie knows he means it when he says, “Yeah, okay. I will, Eddie. Thank you for looking out for me.”
Eddie is about to reply, say something along the lines of don’t worry about it and you should never feel guilty or bad for just wanting someone to take your disability into account, because it should be basic, common sense and I will fight everyone who ever makes you feel like shit because of it, but suddenly there is another voice piercing through the room, startling both Buck and Eddie.
“Hello everyone, sorry I’m a bit late.”
Eddie feels bad about the fact that he forgot all about Tommy Kinard.
Buck turns around to face Tommy and answers with a smile. “Hi,” he says.
Hen says at the same time, “You’re just too late to listen to Buck info-dumping about cats.”
Tommy lets out a laugh at that, but Eddie can hear by the way he forces it out of his mouth that Tommy does not find Buck’s info-dumping as amusing, or cute, as the other firefighters Eddie around them. A shame, really.
(..)
A few more drinks into the evening, Eddie feels himself go loose a little more. He’s relaxed into the seat, the entire left side of his body pressed against Buck’s, head thrown back a little as he laughs at one of Ravi’s – admittedly funny – jokes. His head feels less full and the room has started to spin a little bit. And if anyone sees his eyes lingering on Buck’s face, mouth, nose, cheeks a little too long, he’ll just blame it on the alcohol. Overall, everything he’s feeling right now, feels good.
Except then Tommy comes back from the bar and a little dark thundercloud seems to swerve into the room, turning Eddie’s mood sour. As Tommy claims a spot next to Buck and slides his arm around the other man’s shoulders, Eddie swallows down the stinging jealousy he feels rising up in his throat. He detaches himself from Buck reluctantly.
Some older song comes on, then, and Tommy whispers something into Buck’s ear. Eddie should probably avert his gaze, because this is a private gesture. But then again, Buck’s his friend and this is a free-ish country so he gets to do whatever the hell he wants. (He’s aware of how childish he sounds, but whatever.)
And then Buck loudly says “No, Tommy,” and the conversation turns– very tense and suddenly everything is not so private anymore. Because Tommy actually raises his voice.
“Evan, listen–”
“I said no, Tommy. I don’t want to dance right now.”
“But, this song! It’s amazing. Besides, you need to loosen up a little bit. You’ve been sitting in that seat the whole evening! What are you, eighty? Live a little.”
Eddie thinks that’s rich, coming from a man two steps away from being put in a retirement home.
“I don’t really think dancing is a good idea right now. My leg still really hurts,’ Buck says. Eddie notices two things. One, how strained his voice sounds. Two, how difficult it is for Buck to admit that. He even whispers the last part, seemingly scared of being heard by other people.
Of course, Tommy does not pick up on that. His voice is painstakingly loud when he speaks up. Or at least, that’s how Eddie experiences it. And by the way Buck is wincing, he does too.
“How is it even possible for your legs to hurt that much from a call? Besides, you seem fine. You’re just making up excuses because you don’t want to dance with me!”
Buck’s expression is everything Eddie feared it would be. Embarrassed. Guilty. Uncomfortable. Sad.
Eddie is fucking fuming, right now. He wants to– he doesn’t know what he wants to do. But he wants that man gone. He locks eyes with Buck, a silent conversation. Something along the lines of I want to cuss him out must show on his face, because Buck lightly shakes his head, communicating a variation of the infamous it’s fine, I’m fine, don’t worry.
Tommy lets out an annoyed noise.
“Whatever.”
Eddie thinks, if I had Buck like you get to have him, I would treat him so much better than you ever could. I would hold his heart in the palm of my hand and never let go. He doesn’t say it, though.
Instead, he puts his beer bottle against his lips and takes a deep swig.
At first, the atmosphere is really tense. Eddie tries to catch Buck’s attention several times, even tries to reach out to him, but it feels like there’s an invisible barrier put up between them, now. He notices how Buck’s not actually there with him, but in his own head, thinking God knows what, all because of Tommy fucking Kinard, who never deserved Buck’s love in the first place.
And Eddie knows that that’s a horrible thing to think about the boyfriend of your best friend. But he just can’t help it. Since Buck has been with Tommy, he hasn’t seen him genuinely happy, not once.
But then, Eddie finally manages to catch Buck’s attention, giving him a reassuring squeeze on his thigh. Buck locks eyes with Eddie and Eddie uses that moment to start a new conversation with Buck. Buck launches into a conversation about zoo animals and starts summing up a million different facts; things he learned during one of his zoo trips with Chris, but also things he researched himself on Google when he was bored in between calls.
And Eddie listens. It’s what he always does when it comes to Buck. He listens to him, pays attention, and asks him questions. He loves it. Loves listening to Buck going on a rant about tiger cubs and otters and penguins and he loves how Buck’s eyes sparkle as he recalls a funny memory of him and Chris walking past a llama that actually spit on them and he–
Yeah, he really loves it.
So, things seem to go great for a while after that. However, Eddie notices how Buck tries but fails to involve Tommy into the conversation on more than one occasion. Every time he asks him a question, or tells him a fact, Tommy just makes a non-committed sound or vaguely nods, before going back to scrolling on his phone. And every time Tommy does something like that, Buck’s enthusiasm seems to diminish a little bit. The sparkle in his eyes dims along with it.
So when Tommy gets up from his seat to go to the bathroom, Eddie gently nudges Buck with his shoulder.
“You alright?”
Buck just shrugs. “Yeah, it’s okay.”
“Is it, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“He could’ve at least shown some interest.”
Buck worries his bottom lips between his teeth. “Ah– Eddie, it’s okay. It’s not a big deal, don’t worry.”
And Eddie wants to say something. Wants to tell Buck how it is a big deal and how he would never treat Buck like that. How he would hang onto every word that comes out of Buck’s mouth. But that’s not what Buck wants to hear, not from him. Buck has a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake. A horrible one, but a boyfriend nonetheless.
Eddie glances at his watch, instead. It’s five past midnight. He and Buck have an early shift tomorrow, so he probably should get going. Except, he can’t leave Buck here with Tommy. Not like this. Not when Eddie is almost one hundred percent sure Buck is not going to be invited to Tommy’s apartment later, because apparently the other man ‘needs his own space’ and ‘it’s still a bit soon to actually come and live here, don’t you think, Evan?’, which means that Buck will head back to his loft, to be alone with his thoughts, and yeah, screw that.
Eddie’s taking Buck home.
“I’ll take you home, okay? It’s getting late.” They both know ‘home’ doesn’t mean Buck’s loft. Buck nods.
“Alright. I'm going to say goodbye to Tommy first, though.”
Eddie nods. He gets out of the booth and collects both of their jackets. He goes over to the bar to pay, leaving Buck to stand by the booth for a little while.
When he comes back, Tommy is just emerging from the bathroom, his eyebrows raised.
“Hey, Tommy. We, uh, we’re leaving,” Buck says to him.
Tommy looks at Buck with an unreadable– or maybe just emotionless – expression. “Already?”
Eddie chimes in. “We have an early shift tomorrow.”
Tommy looks annoyed. “I’d expected to at least get one dance with you today, Evan.”
Buck looks down. Eddie notices how he’s leaning against the booth, putting all of his weight on one leg. “I, ah– I’m sorry, Tommy. I really am having a bad day today. B-but, hey! We can go to that fancy Italian tomorrow evening, if you want? I can reserve us a table, y’know. It’ll be fun!”
Tommy looks unimpressed. “Right.”
Buck deflates. “Tommy, I–”
“No, Evan. It’s fine. Go home. Or whatever it is you’re up to. It’s not like I actually matter to you.”
Buck flinches at the words.
“What?”
But Tommy just rolls his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, Evan. You barely said anything to me, earlier.”
And well, that’s just not fair. Because Buck had really fucking tried to engage Tommy into the conversation, Eddie thinks bitterly. It was Tommy who didn’t give a flying fuck.
Buck must be thinking the same exact thing, because his words are sharp when he speaks them. “I did, though.”
“Yeah, alright.”
Eddie honestly wishes Tommy would just stop talking.
Buck stands his ground. "What? I did talk to you!”
“Yeah– about zoo animals.”
“What’s wrong with zoo animals?” Buck asks, genuine confusion mixed with anger and irritation. Yes, Eddie thinks, what is wrong with zoo animals? Is it such a fucking burden to listen to Buck being enthusiastic about something?
“God, Evan.”
Buck actually snaps at that. “What?”
Tommy shakes his head. “Nothing, just–,” he throws his hands in the air, seemingly indicating that he’s done with the conversation. Good, because Eddie was done with listening to him before he had even opened his mouth.
But apparently, Buck isn’t ready to let it go. Which– good actually, Eddie thinks. It’s time he finally tells Tommy just exactly what he thinks of him.
“Why don’t you ever care?”
“What?”
“Whenever I talk about something, anything. You’re never interested. You never seem to care about anything I talk about!”
“Jeez, Evan.”
Buck keeps going, anger written all over his face. It’s like a bomb exploding. “What? It’s true. You don’t give a fuck. You don’t even try to fake your interest, you straight up don’t care!”
Honestly, Eddie’s heart breaks into a million tiny pieces. Buck does not deserve to feel like this, at all.
“Oh my god, Evan–, sometimes I forget just how damn childish you are.”
And Eddie doesn't mean to— actually do it.
He’s thought about doing it, on like, more than one occasion, sure.
But thinking about something and actually doing it are two vastly different things. (Eddie would know, what with all the pining over Buck but not actually doing anything about it. Buck probably knows, though. With how obvious Eddie is at times, that's probably hard to miss.)
Besides, he does not consider himself a violent person— at least not anymore. Handling his anger by working it out in the ring, that's not him anymore.
So he doesn't actually mean to do it.
But Tommy — god awful man-child Tommy Kinard, who has never once shown any interest or enthusiasm in the two months he's been with Buck — just called Buck childish.
And— well.
Eddie can't even describe the absolute rage that fills him from head to toe at hearing that come out of the other man's mouth.
He also doesn't miss the way the hurt flashes across Buck's face.
So, yeah, he doesn't consider himself a violent person by any means.
Still, he punches Tommy square in the fucking nose.
After that, everything seems to happen in a blur. Eddie vaguely registers a crunching, nauseating noise the moment his fist collides with Tommy's nose. He winces at the pain going through his hand, splitting his knuckles open.
Then, there's noise. A lot of noise. Tommy's surprised scream, his own grunt. Buck's voice, yelling his name. His name— not Tommy's but his— his hopeful little brain supplies.
Tommy's nose looks— not great, really. Probably broken. Eddie's hand is not doing so well either but he kind of brought that on himself by punching the other man in the face.
Buck is looking at him. His face is red. Eddie doesn't know what's happening, only that, in the span of not even ten seconds, he majorly fucked up.
He stammers out the words as he tears his gaze away from Buck and stares down at his hands instead.
He's trembling, he realizes.
“Shit, Buck, I—”
Buck’s voice is curt when he replies. “Let's go, Eddie.”
"What?"
"I said, let's go."
Buck doesn't say another word as he drags Eddie out of the bar and into his Jeep.
(..)
It's been fifteen minutes. Not that Eddie's counting he is. Buck's been silent the whole way up to Eddie's house.
I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up, Eddie's head plays on a loop. The soundtrack of his life, really.
When they enter Eddie's kitchen, Buck locates him to one of the chairs, wordlessly ordering him to sit down. Eddie does as he's 'told'.
He watches quietly as Buck takes the first aid kit from one of the kitchen cabinets and sets it down in front of Eddie on the table. Then he takes his own chair and sits next to Eddie, their knees bumping together.
Buck opens the kit and gently takes Eddie's hand in his own, examining it carefully.
His hands are soft. Eddie knows this, but it still surprises him at times just how soft they are.
He takes the disinfectant and cotton swabs and starts softly brushing them against Eddie's slightly bloodied knuckles.
It all feels so intimate. So tender. Eddie could scream. But Buck's still not looking at him. Or saying anything.
As Buck unrolls a bandage and presses it against Eddie’s hand, Eddie can't take it anymore. He takes an unsteady breath.
“Can you please say something?”
Silence.
“Buck?”
Still nothing.
“I'm sorry, okay? I know you're probably angry at me right now. Hell— I'm angry at myself.”
That finally snaps Buck out of it.
“I'm angry, but not for the reason you think, Eddie.”
“What?”
Buck sighs. “I don't care that you hit Tommy— which is probably fucked up in itself, but whatever. I'm not angry about that. I'm angry about the fact that you put yourself in danger. And for what?”
For what? He literally called you—
“He called you childish!” Eddie yells out, outraged at the memory.
Buck stops wrapping the bandage and simply just raises his eyebrows. “He called me— okay.”
Eddie's mouth drops open.
“Okay??”
Buck looks more confused than anything. He lets go of Eddie’s now bandaged up hand. Eddie almost whines at the loss of Buck’s soft, warm palm against his own.
“Yeah, okay? I mean— I've been called way worse.”
That really doesn’t help Eddie feel any better.
“Doesn't make it okay! He had no fucking right to call you that. To hurt you like that. The fucking asshole,” Eddie mutters.
Buck scoffs.
“I can take care of myself, Eddie. I'm not some damsel in distress that needs saving, or whatever.”
He gets up from his chair angrily after that and walks towards the living room. Eddie follows him.
“I know you aren't! Shit, Buck. I know you can stand your ground. I know you could've easily done it alone. But you don't have to, that's the whole point!”
Eddie feels himself getting frustrated, so he takes a deep breath.
Buck's reply comes quickly. “I just— I don't want you to get hurt because of me. Honestly, I just don't want to see you hurt, period.”
“You know that's not possible, Buck.”
“I know that, Eddie. God— I do. It's just—,” he throws his hands up in frustration.
“I know. I'm sorry. God, Buck. I'm so sorry. I just… I can't stand him.”
“Yeah. I gathered that much when you punched him in the face.”
Eddie cringes. Yeah.
“He just— he treats you like shit.”
“Eddie.” It sounds like a warning.
Eddie doesn’t back down, though.
“No, he does. It's not just this. It's everything he does. Or doesn't. He never seems to care, he treats you like a child, actually did call you childish not even an hour ago, never takes anything important into account. He's not there for you, Buck. Never has been.”
“Whatever.”
Eddie scoffs. “Whatever?”
“Yeah. It's whatever. It's not your problem, though. Just drop it.”
“Drop it?”
Buck sighs. “Yeah. Just. Why do you care so much?”
“Why do I care so much?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You seriously have no fucking clue?” Eddie asks, bewildered. He thought that him punching Tommy would've been a giveaway for his feelings.
“Eddie, what?”
And he probably shouldn’t say it. He should take another deep breath instead and actually drop the conversation. Should tuck it all away again, deep down in the box where it came from, and he should never ever bring it up again.
He doesn’t have the best track record making sane decisions, though.
So he doesn’t tuck it away in a box. At all.
Actually, it kind of explodes. And then it’s everywhere.
“Because I fucking love you, Buck. Because I can't fucking stand to see how he gets the chance to— to kiss you and touch you and to fucking love you, but does absolutely nothing with it.”
“Eddie—”
“And I've probably screwed up big time by telling you that, but I don't care anymore. I love you. I'm in love with you. Have been for a while now, actually. And I know I can't have you. I know you don't feel the same way. But I love you and it kills me but I'll never stop loving you.”
“Eddie.”
“No, Buck— it's fine. It's— I don't mind, okay?”
Buck takes a step closer. “I don't love Tommy.”
“You… okay?”
Buck swallows. “I'm not even sure I like him— actually.”
Same, Eddie thinks. And then his brain catches up with what Buck actually means by that.
What?
“There's only one person who has my heart. I just never considered it a possibility—,” Buck steps even closer, “—’til now.”
“Huh?”
Oh.
Oh, okay. Okay!
“Eddie,” Buck repeats, softer this time.
“Please tell me if I'm reading this wrong,” Eddie says, taking a step towards Buck, forcing him to step back so he is pressed against the back of the couch.
Buck swallows. Eddie follows the movement down his throat with his eyes.
“Definitely not reading anything wrong,” Buck whispers.
And then it's Buck who eventually closes the distance with a small, hesitating little kiss against Eddie's mouth. It's sweet, soft and innocent. It's also over way too soon and honestly? Eddie can't fucking have that right now.
So he does the only thing that makes sense in this situation. Which is grabbing Buck by his collar and smashing their lips together hungrily.
Eddie's hands find Buck's waist almost immediately. He feels the hot press of Buck's mouth on his and before he has time to register that he's kissing Buck, his best friend of almost a decade, he feels Buck's tongue slide over his lips, demanding entrance.
“Needy,” he mumbles against Buck's lips.
“You like it,” Buck replies. He's right.
He opens up for Buck almost immediately, wasting no more time, and lets him lick his mouth thoroughly and slowly. His own tongue then finds Buck's and he shivers from head to toe at the contact.
Fuck, he thinks. We should have started doing that way sooner.
They separate for a second, because as much as they would love to keep going, they have to breathe at some point.
However, it doesn't take long before their mouths are clashing together again. Eddie swears Buck's lips are like a magnet, pulling him in constantly, again and again and again. As Buck's hands slide from Eddie's waist to his ass, Eddie can't help but gasp Buck's name into his mouth.
It sounds vaguely like a prayer.
As Buck moves Eddie from the back of the couch to the nearest wall and starts sucking bruises on his neck, Eddie briefly wonders if this is what Heaven feels like.
He thinks it might be.
(..)
“I'm sorry for getting hurt today,” he whispers as they sit next to each other on the couch later that evening.
“You're forgiven,” Buck replies. “Just try not to do it again. Your hands are way too pretty to get all hurt and bloody.”
“You think my hands are pretty, Buck?”
“I do. I think every part of you is pretty.”
“You're making me blush.”
“I know,” Buck mumbles against his lips. “So pretty.”
(..)