Work Text:
Eddie scurries up to the table, a panicked look on his face. He slams down a couple beers, mindlessly holding one out to Buck as his eyes flit around to everyone at the table. Buck ducks his head, smiling to himself, feeling so warm as he takes the beer and quietly cracks the lid. He glances back up as he wraps his lips around the opening, lips quirking to find Eddie holding everyone else’s beers hostage at the edge of the table.
“I need someone to kiss me,” Eddie says, turning to glance over his shoulder and back. “Quickly.”
Buck chokes on his beer.
Eddie looks down the center of the table, eyes dancing over each of them as he waves a hand. As his eyes land on Hen, Karen shakes her head, “Don’t even think about,” she says, softly, her hand settling over Hen’s on the table.
Hen leans into her, smiling, her own gaze darting over to Buck; hse quirks an eyebrow, but looks away when he shoots her a glare as Eddie’s gaze rakes down his potential . . . kissers.
“Oh no,” Chim says, before Eddie’s even landed on Maddie, “We’re all happily married. You want someone to kiss you, you find some single lips.”
Buck nods in agreement, lifting his beer again.
He’s barely brought it to his lips when he realizes the entire table is staring at him expectantly. He blinks. “Why’s everyone looking at me?”
“You’re single,” Athena says.
Buck turns to her, something like betrayal curdling in his gut.
Haven’t they grown past the past? Aren’t they, like, friendly now?
And she’s throwing him under the bus, just like that?
Protect and serve, Athena, protect and serve.
Eddie’s slowly turning towards him, his brow furrowing in that way it does whenever he’s thinking, and Buck has to stop whatever it is that’s about to happen before it can even begin to happen, because Eddie’s only been back a month, and Buck’s working on getting over Tommy’s voice in his head whispering competition and Buck’s definitely not in love with Eddie, but—but—
“Don’t look at me like that,” He says, pointing his beer bottle at Eddie. “I’m not kissing you.”
“Why not?” Chimney asks, sounding oh-so-innocent.
But Buck knows, okay?
He’s not an idiot. He knows how it sounds. All of it. Some of it. Whatever bit of it Maddie relayed back to him—which, really probably is just all of it. Which was fine when Eddie was in El Paso, because who needs to worry about Chimney blabbing about everyone thinking Buck’s in love with Eddie, when Eddie’s in El Paso?
But this isn’t El Paso. They’re having their first real get together since Eddie came back, and Chimney’s about to blow up Buck’s life because he doesn’t understand.
Buck’s not in love with Eddie.
He’s not.
The fact that he doesn’t want to kiss him should really be proving his point.
“Because it’s Eddie!” He exclaims, motioning towards him with both hands, as if the very sight of him will explain everything.
Except—Eddie’s, well, Eddie, and all it really does is make everyone look harder at Buck.
“You calling me ugly, Buck?” Eddie asks, leaning into the booth and eyeing him carefully.
Buck gives him an unimpressed look. “I think everyone at this table knows you’re not,” Buck replies, frowning.
“Including you?”
He flushes. “That’s not the point.”
Eddie looks like he wants to argue, but thinks better of it before looking over his shoulder and sighing. “Look,” he says, turning back around. “One of the mom’s from Chris’ school is over there, and I told her I’m seeing somebody—”
Buck sits up straighter, something icy cold slipping down his veins. “You’re seeing somebody?”
Eddie pauses, “No,” he says, raising his eyebrows with intention. “I want her to think I’m seeing somebody.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not interested?” He sighs, dropping his chin to his chest, shaking it back and forth as he takes a deep breath. Buck watches the rise and fall of his chest with rapt attention, until Eddie looks up without moving his head, gaze catching Buck’s from beneath his lashes. “I’m done with all these relationships. I’m not making those mistakes anymore.”
And Buck—Buck’s mesmerized for all of a moment, until he remembers what exactly is on the line here—
“I don’t see why that means I have to kiss you.”
“She’s the type to keep pushing. I just need to give her a reason not to.”
“No is a pretty solid reason, I think.”
“Buck. Come on,” Eddie groans, leaning into the table and looking at him seriously. “It’s just a kiss. It’s not like it means anything.”
Buck barely registers the quick intake of breath from several people at the table. It loosely mimics the one that rushes into his own lungs, but he swallows past it, ignores them. Ignores them.
Ignores them.
He can ignore them.
It’s just—
It’s not like it means anything.
He straightens out his shoulders. “Eds—”
“What,” Eddie says, waving a hand, “You scared of kissing me, Buckley?” And his tone is playful, teasing—the one that’d usually draw the competitive side of Buck out. And he drops it so easily, because he knows that, he knows how easy Buck’ll rise to a challenge, but this isn’t a challenge.
Maddie’s hand comes out, settles atop the table. “Eddie—” She says, voice wavering.
“I’m not scared to kiss you,” Buck says, quietly.
This isn’t nothing.
“Then let’s get this over with before she comes over here.”
Buck takes a slow breath. “No.”
Eddie throws his hands out at his side, a sound of frustration rumbling out of his chest, and Buck closes his eyes—tries not to flinch at the weight of the air growing thick around them. He just got Eddie and Chris back, he just got them back, and everyone’s convinced he’s in love with Eddie, and it’s going to ruin everything and he’s going to lose them because—
Because—
“Why are you making this so damn difficult?” Eddie asks, and Buck can hear the frown in his voice; the frustration in the ragged exhale as he drops his hands on the edge of the table. “Just kiss me and we can all move on with our lives.”
That’s the problem, though.
He’s not sure kissing Eddie and move on with our lives can necessarily exist in the same plane.
“Maybe this has gone a little too far,” Karen suggests, softly, leaning over Hen towards Buck. A hand settles softly on his shoulder, warm and comforting and he—
Tumbles over an edge he hadn’t realized he’d been teetering off of.
His eyes shoot open and he glares at Eddie, “I can’t,” His voice is tinged with desperation, a kind of sickly tone that’s wet and thick and Buck wishes he would just drop it.
Eddie splutters, shaking his head. “Why the hell not?”
Something distinctly familiar and unavoidable and magnificently large crashes through Buck’s chest, stalling his breath for the length of a single heartbeat.
He inhales sharply.
No.
No.
“I can’t,” he repeats, quietly, resigned, as he pushes up from the booth. “I just can’t.”
He makes the mistake of looking at the others as he slides out from behind the table—Maddie’s eyes are shining, that feeling unfurling vibrantly loud and rumbling in his chest reflected in her eyes, like she sees him coming undone in front of them all. And she does, is the thing, because that’s exactly what’s happening.
He’d wrapped his heart in sand and drywall and every other inconsequential substance between the two before drowning it in concrete and slamming it behind a door. But the concrete's crumbling, and the drywall’s cracking, and lightning struck the sand and turned it to glass and that’s shattering too. And in its wake, in the pile of rubbish that he can now clearly call denial —his heart. His heart's pumping. The same beat it has for years. The same steady drumline chorus he’s been humming ever since Eddie walked into his life.
A melody without a name.
But, it was never really nameless, was it?
“Buck—“
“I have to—“ He shakes his head and turns on his heel—away from their watchful, knowing gazes—away from Eddie’s confusion—away from it all. His heart is shaking off the dust and demanding a symphony, and it’s rattling his ribs, as if ready to escape the walls of its prison completely. As if it’ll step out of his chest, and without Bucks permission—without Eddie’s permission—jump right into Eddie’s chest, demanding a duet.
He slams out the front door, hand scratching along the brick and dragging himself out to the alley, backing up against the wall and closing his stinging eyes, right as his vision starts to blur.
They were right.
They were right.
Oh, god, they were right.
He’s in love with Eddie.
He reaches up, digs the heels of his palms against his eyes, takes in a ragged breath. Tries to calm his heart, holding the breath hostage at the bottom of his lungs, but his lungs burn, and his heart aches, and he lets it out with a sound that’s frighteningly close to the same timbre of a sob.
He’s going to lose them both—Eddie and Chris.
He has a place in his family, just not this place. He can love them, in the way Chim might love Eddie and Chris. That’s what’s allowed. Not this. He can’t do this.
“ . . . Buck?” A voice asks, quiet and unfamiliarly uncertain.
Buck groans, pressing the back of his head into the brick wall.
“What’s going on here?”
And it’s not like he can just say Nothing, I’m just finally acknowledging I’m in love with you and realizing the consequences of that, go back inside, I’ll be good in a few minutes.
Glass crunches beneath Eddie’s feet as he steps further into the alley. Buck drops his hands, and opens his eyes, to watch him as he presses his back into the wall opposite Buck, hands crossed over his chest, eyebrow quirked.
“It’s—”
“If you say nothing,” Eddie interrupts, “I swear to god, Buck.”
“Aren’t you already on bad terms with the big guy?”
Eddie stares at him, unimpressed.
Buck sighs. “Is it really such a big deal that I don’t want to kiss you?”
“No.” He blinks, gives Buck a chance to ask, but when he doesn’t, shakes his head. “You know that’s not the problem here. You don’t have to kiss anyone you don’t want to—”
“That’s not what you said in there.”
“I didn’t realize you were—” In love with me, Buck's mind supplies, unhelpfully. “Upset.” He drops the word, like it confuses him—upsets him. Like he expects to know all of Buck’s tells and be able to pinpoint them before they balloon into an explosion.
And, maybe, usually he would.
But it’s not like Buck knew this tell, either.
“I’m not upset,” Buck mutters, crossing his arms.
Eddie’s eyebrows go high. “Oh,” he says. “Right,” He juts out his bottom lip, a mockery of an oh, okay, and then waves a hand, motioning towards Buck. “My mistake, your running out of the restaurant, into an alley, and being on the verge of tears when I walked out here—that’s not a big red flag that screams upset. Totally misinterpreted that. My bad.”
“I’m not upset,” Buck repeats, hoarse.
“Then what are you?” Eddie throws his hands out at his sides, and Buck flinches as they slap down against his thighs with a thunderous clap. “Because, I gotta say, Buck, I’m at a loss here.”
And Buck doesn’t mean to say it, he’s not even sure what he means to say when he opens his mouth, but even he’s a little startled when the words that come out in response are, “I’m not upset. I’m scared.”
Eddie rears back, eyes going wide, and then soft. “What?”
Buck shakes his head, pushing away from the wall. “I can’t do this,” he says, the words falling in a series of stutters that barely pull together to form a sentence.
Eddie follows him, pushing away from the wall and into his space, his brow furrowing. “Do what?”
But Buck just shakes his head again, turning away from him, towards the entrance of the alley, ready to flee. A hand on his wrist stops him, though, and he turns back, finds Eddie watching him carefully, like he’s starting to see , and god, Buck can’t do this. “Eddie—” He tugs at his wrist, but Eddie holds firm.
Eddie’s voice is soft, but loaded with something that Buck can’t quite define, when he repeats, “Do what , Buck?” Buck just stares at him helplessly, and Eddie steps in closer, frown deepening. “Buck, you are the bravest man I’ve ever met, what the fuck could possibly have you scared right now?”
“You do,” Buck answers, closing his eyes and dipping his chin.
Eddie drops his wrist like he’s been burned, and Buck can’t see it, but he can feel him taking a step away. “What?”
“I can’t lose you.”
Eddie takes the kind of breath Buck’s witnessed a thousand times in the field—shocked air forcing its way into lungs that weren’t ready for it.
He doesn’t reply for a long time, either—so long that Buck hears a couple exit the restaurant, and pass by the opening of the alley, talking about their plans for the rest of the night, high and happy, until their voices fade away. He wonders what it’s like—to fall in love with someone he can have. Someone he can keep. To love and be loved with the same intensity and scope as what he thinks he has to give.
He blinks, forces himself to look when Eddie shuffles forward, his shoes scraping against loose gravel. “Why,” Eddie finally starts, his voice hoarse. It cracks on the final syllable, and he clears his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as if picturing the words before he says them, “Why would you lose me?”
He looks about as wrecked as Buck feels.
“It doesn’t—”
“It does,” Eddie interrupts, frowning up at him as he steps even closer. “Whatever it is matters, man. Just—talk to me. What’s going on? Why are you scared? Why would I lose you?” He tosses a hand towards the direction of the restaurant, “What was that in there?” His hand falls, and he shrugs, “What’s happening out here?” A breath shudders out of him. “Anything, Buck. I’ll take any of it, just—give me something.”
“I can’t give you this.”
Buck groans, reaching up and running a hand through his hair in a move that screams of his frustration. “Why?”
“Because if I do—I—I can’t take it back. And you’ll—you’ll be gone, and I’ll—”
Eddie takes another step in, until he’s standing directly in Buck’s space. His cologne wafts through the air, settles along Buck’s synapsis like a drug. “I’m not going anywhere, Buck.”
“You say that now—”
Eddie shakes his head, lips set in a thin line. “I already left you once,” He says, the words heavy and loaded. “You think I have the strength to do that again?” He pokes Buck in the chest, “You think took such a massive loss on the house I just bought and moved back after three months because I missed the L.A skyline? You think Chris and I made the drive back here, stopping only for gas and piss breaks, because of the weather?” His finger presses into the flesh of Buck’s peck, and Buck stumbles back a step, but Eddie follows him. “We’re here because this is where you are. Our Buck. Whatever’s going on with you, you’re not getting rid of us that easily.”
Buck blinks down at him.
And, before he can even think to stop himself—before he can even understand what he’s doing, he’s reaching out and grabbing Eddie, one hand on either side of his jaw, eyes making way for darkness as he closes them, and leans in—as his lips find Eddie’s like two magnets drawn at their polar ends.
Eddie draws in a breath through his nose, and Buck’s heart is hammering so loudly in his ears he can’t even hear the flow of traffic behind them, because Eddie is—
Fuck.
He’s perfect.
Every person he’s ever kissed, he’d found little things that kept it just shy of reaching perfection. But Eddie’s stubble scratches pleasantly against Buck’s chin, and his lips yield to him, warm and soft and—is it possible to find home in the crease of Eddie’s lips, where his ridges fall between Buck’s? As if, somehow, the universe knew this—they’d—find each other, and created them with that in mind?
As soon as the thought strikes him—so does what he’s doing.
He jerks away from Eddie like he’s been slapped, staring down at him wide eyed. He feels a bit like a deer in the middle of a country road, staring at the headlights as they come bearing down on him, knowing he has nowhere to run.
This is the end.
Eddie’s eyes are closed, and slowly—so slowly, like he’s coming back to reality, too—he blinks up at Buck, lashes fluttering until his gaze meets Buck’s. His tongue peeks out, swipes over the rise of his bottom lip. He takes a big breath that nearly presses his chest up against Buck’s. “Oh.”
It’s then that Buck realizes he’s still holding Eddie’s face and he drags his hands away, dropping them to his sides. “I—”
“Okay.” Eddie nods, once, forehead wrinkling as he tilts his head up at him. “Just to be clear, that was because you wanted to kiss me, not to get me to shut up?”
For, maybe the second time in his life, Buck’s rendered mute by his own actions, and so all he can do is nod.
“Not because of some PTA mom who doesn’t understand boundaries?”
Buck swallows, says around a lump in his throat, “It’s just us out here.”
Eddie glances around, nods, brings his gaze back up to meet Bucks. “So it is.”
Eddie might be looking up at him, but Buck feels dangerously small, shrinking more and more by the moment. Quietly, he pleads, “I’m sorry, Eds, I tried not to—I can bury it, though—you—you don’t have to. Please don’t—”
“Bury it?” Eddie interrupts, looking like he’s lost a piece of a puzzle he thought he’d already figured out. “Bury what?”
“Eds—”
“You need to use your words, here, Buck. I’m—I need some kind of direction.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Maddie and Chim and—and Athena all—all said it’s obvious—”
“Throw me a bone here, man.”
Bucks sighs, reaching up to run a hand through his hair as he tosses his head back and looks up at the sky. Not a star to be seen, nothing to distract himself with but the lone plane light blinking in the distance.
“Buck.”
There’s a command in the way he says it.
And Buck—
Buck’s helpless to it.
Always has been.
He closes his eyes, keeps his face turned towards the sky so he doesn’t have to see the moment Eddie realizes this has all gone a little too wayward for him. So he doesn’t have to see the rejection before he hears it. His mouth feels oddly dry, almost like he’s speaking through a mouthful of cotton balls. “I’m in love with you.”
“Oh,” Eddie says, soft. And then, “That’s it?”
Buck blinks up at the sky, frowning. Takes a second to replay the words, once, twice, three times, before dropping his chin and finding Eddie staring at him like he’s just told him it’s Tuesday. “That’s it?” Buck echoes. “What—”
“Are you just now realizing it?” Eddie shakes his head, looks out over Buck’s shoulder. “That makes sense. I was a wreck when I realized I’m in love with you.”
It’s not even the words themselves that are the shock.
It’s—
He says it so casually.
“What?” Buck asks, numbly.
Eddie nods, gaze far away, as if he’s remembering the moment. “You were dead, though, so I think it was a little more dramatic for me.”
Buck goes very, very still.
“What?”
“Not that this wasn’t dramatic,” Eddie says, as if he hasn’t spoken at all, finally meeting Buck’s gaze again. “It’s just. Nobody died.” He tilts his head to the side, quirking his lips and shrugging a shoulder.
Buck stares and stares and stares at him and Eddie just— lets him.
Waits for him.
And still, all Buck can manage to say, croak, really, is, “What?”
Eddie nods. “The lightning strike,” he says. “You were—hanging there. And I screamed your name, and all I could think was I can’t lose him. And then you were in the coma, and I had nothing but time to figure out what that meant. And then I spiraled, and ultimately blew up my life, and, well. You know the rest.”
“You’re straight,” Buck manages, almost desperately.
“That was the running theory,” Eddie says.
“Was?”
He nods. “Was.”
“As in—”
“No longer prevalent, yeah.”
“Because you’re—”
“In love with you. Yes.” He reaches out, almost hesitant, before gently setting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “That alright?”
Buck blinks. “I just need a second.”
Eddie nods, lips turning downwards in agreement. “Take your time.” They twist upwards, though, his nose wrinkling. “I mean, we’ve had how many combined near deaths at this point? I’m sure, even knowing how we feel, we’ve got plenty of time to think about it some more.”
“A few minutes ago I thought you were my straight best friend.”
Eddie frowns. “I thought we were partners?”
“Eddie—”
“I’m just saying, best friend has never been a strong enough word to describe,” He uses his free hand to flick it back and forth between them. “This.”
His heart rattles at his ribs, like a prisoner seeking escape from it’s cell.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know how you felt. Now, I do.”
“And what does that mean?”
He tilts his head, lips curving with a small smile as he raises his eyebrow, shrugging. “Whatever you want it to mean, Buck.”
Is it really that simple?
“What about Chris?”
Eddie’s smile widens, his hand squeezing Buck’s shoulder, before curling around the side of his throat, a thumb catching on the cut of his jaw. “He knows,” he says.
“And he’s—” Buck’s voice cracks.
That thumb gently sweeps over the line of Buck’s jaw, a comforting motion. “Yeah,” Eddie says, soft. “He’s good.”
“I don’t want—”
“You won’t.”
“He’s just as important to me as you are, and I—”
Suddenly, he’s being yanked down, and those soft lips are on his again, warm and buzzing and brilliant. He sinks into it, that melody in his chest loud in his ears, as Eddie pulls him against himself, holding him there—kisses him like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do.
Until he pulls away and says, breathlessly, “I love you.”
Buck nods, swallowing, resisting the urge to chase after his lips. “That—I could get used to hearing that.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
Eddie grins. “Good.”
They stand there for several moments, watching each other take the moment in—and Buck’s hands come up, hesitant and hopeful, before settling on Eddie’s hips. Eddie steps impossibly closer into him, his free hand rising to find Buck’s hip, while the other slips around to the back of Buck’s neck, scratching through the hair there.
“What now?” Buck asks, eventually.
Eddie shrugs. “More of the same, I think,” He says. “Cap’ll probably make us fill out a metric ton of paperwork, and then we’ll go back to work, and you can stop worrying about moving out, and we can just keeping doing what we do. Because what’s really changing? Other than,” He leans, and lips graze against Bucks, “This?”
Buck’s breath catches, and he follows him, stealing another kiss.
When they break for air, Eddie smirks.
“Guess I got that kiss afterall?”
Buck huffs.
“You’re an idiot.”
Eddie shrugs. “Takes one to know one.” He steps back, hands slipping from Buck’s hip and nape, until one hangs in the air between them, waiting for Buck to take it. “Come on,” He says. “Let’s go deal with the masses.”
Buck can’t help the smile that stretches the corners of his mouth. “Do we have to?”
Eddie hums thoughtfully. “We could avoid it tonight, but there’ll just be even more questions tomorrow.”
Buck sighs, allows Eddie to lead them out of the alley. “To the executioners stone, it is.”
“Now who’s the idiot?”
“Still you.”
“Mhm,” Eddie hums again, grinning, “Sure.”
Ravi switches sides at the table when they get back, and Buck and Eddie slide in next to each other, their hands clasped between them, while their family goes on and on and on about how they knew it.
Eventually, everyone draws $20 bills from their wallets, and passes them to Athena, who’s smirking when Buck and Eddie look at her.
“What can I say?” She says, laying the cash out in front of herself. “When you know, you know.” Her eyes meet Buck’s, bright, and knowing, and he has a distinct feeling that she’s counting this cash because she bet on him. In what capacity, he’s never going to ask, but he smiles nonetheless, because there’d been a time where Athena betting on him had been entirely out of the cards.
“One more day and the pot would’ve been mine,” Chimney mutters. “You couldn’t hold out for one more day?”
Maddie elbows him. “Just tell them you’re happy for them, Howie.”
“I am happy for them,” He says, pouting. “I just could’ve been happy for them, and almost two hundred dollars richer, to boot.”
She rolls her eyes, abandoning him in order to reach across the table and take Buck’s free hand, smiling brightly at him.
He swallows down a wave of affection for her—makes a mental note to buy her the biggest I’m-sorry-I-made-you-listen-to-my-I’m-not-in-love-with-Eddie-rants-for-four-months bouquet, and then turns back to Eddie; finds him already looking at Buck.
Eddie bumps his shoulder against Buck’s, and Buck’s heart swells. He leans in, whispering, “Ready to go home?”
Buck nods. “Yeah.”
And the look Eddie gives him? That’s—that’s everything.
At least, it is, until they get home, and Chris clocks them in five seconds flat and drags them both into a hug and tells them, “It’s about time!”
That’s actually everything.