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Funnily enough, life is actually great for Buck at the moment. Things have been going pretty well as of late—Maddie’s been recovering after her kidnapping, and no harm has come to the baby. Surprisingly, nothing bad has happened at work recently, which is impressive for their standards. But, most importantly, two of Buck’s favorite people are back home. Eddie and Chris arrived at his front door just under two weeks ago, and since then, Buck's life has been pretty breezy. He has everything he needs under one roof.
And it’s going great, thank you for asking. Buck will admit, in their absence, he was beginning to go a little stir-crazy; Ravi can most definitely attest to that. But now that they’re home, so everything’s perfect. No need for any more stress-baking or rebound sex with Buck’s kinda ugly ex-boyfriend, who may or may not have implied that Buck’s in love with his best friend.
Living with Eddie is amazing. He returned to the 118 just last week, so their schedules align perfectly. They wake up every morning in the same bed, together. Buck makes everyone breakfast while Eddie wakes up Christopher. They alternate between who gets the shower and who has to remind Chris to grab his math homework. They run out the door, dropping off Chris first before carpooling to work. In the evenings, Buck cooks dinner and Eddie cleans. Eddie picks out a movie while Buck helps Chris with his science projects. They go to bed at the same time, in the same bed, just to repeat it all the next day.
And Buck wouldn’t want it any other way. Although Ravi has been pestering him about one of the apartments he owns around the corner from the station having a vacancy, Buck doesn’t want to move out. And Eddie doesn’t want him to move out. Neither does Chris. So, it’s perfect.
And yeah, Buck may be harbouring some slightly more than platonic feelings for his straight best friend/roommate/work partner/love of his life, who he spends almost every waking hour with, but that’s besides the point. Because other than that, life is great! Everyone is alive and healthy and back home, and Buck is only mildly in love with Eddie.
Which brings us to Buck baking in the kitchen, a coping mechanism he has picked up whenever things get just a little too much, like, for instance, waking up spooning your straight best friend because you got just a little too comfortable in the middle of the night.
And it’s not like Eddie really seemed to mind the cuddling when he woke up, simply pulling Buck’s arm back around himself when he noticed the hesitation. But Buck is spiralling just a tiny-weeny amount anyway.
So, to cope, baking an orange pound cake with fruit freshly picked from the front yard garden while playing music from his trusty record player—a recent purchase that Buck hasn’t had the chance to spin yet, ‘five seconds flat’ by Lizzy McAlpine, he’s been dying to play it. Eddie is currently out of the house, dropping Chris off at a sleepover with some school friends. Which is why Buck assumes he’s safe to do some stress-baking in his brief absence without Eddie around to question what exactly has Buck so stressed out now.
It’s not that Buck can actually tell Eddie what’s got him stuck in his head this time, and Buck’s not usually that good at keeping things from Eddie anyway. By some miracle, he’s managed to keep his little rendezvous with Tommy a secret, partly from shame of hooking up with the man in Eddie’s house, but also due to the conversation that took place the morning after.
The conversation that hasn’t left Buck’s mind in the past two months. The one where Tommy insinuated that Buck had feelings for his best friend. Which is insane, by the way. Eddie is straight, Buck would never do anything to risk their friendship. Definitely not something as stupid as falling in love with him.
He’s careful. He wouldn’t do that to Eddie.
Thus, late afternoon baking and sad girl music.
Buck is just finishing up now, humming along to the beginning of ‘all my ghosts’, a more upbeat song and a personal favorite of his off the album. He pulls the loaf of cake out of the oven with his specialty mittens given to him by Bobby and gently places it on the cooling rack. Buck wiggles his hips a little pathetically as he dances around the kitchen, starting the cleaning process, hopefully finishing before Eddie returns.
He continues dancing around, but his coordination is nothing to write home about. However, could you blame Buck? He’s 6’2 with ridiculously long legs and two left feet, sue him for not being a good dancer.
Besides, it’s not like there’s anyone around to watch.
Or so he thought.
Unbeknownst to Buck, his very best friend/roommate/work partner/love of his life is lingering in the hallway of the kitchen, having returned early from dropping his (their) son off at a sleepover with some school friends. Eddie stands there, not daring to breathe, if it means Buck doesn’t notice his presence, and just watches him. He’s enthralled, maybe even drooling a little bit. Buck’s terrible dance moves have actually enchanted him, which, come to think about it, should be impossible because he kinda looks like a baby bird learning to walk for the first time. But Eddie stands there, watching, a small grin on his face because, yeah, he’s in love with Buck.
And he’s still in love with him, despite the trainwreck in front of Eddie—Buck is now literally using a wooden spoon as a microphone, singing in a very pitchy tone. This would be concerning if it were anyone else, but this is Buck and Eddie—they’re kinda insane about each other. Very much not normal and haven’t been since the day they met. And everyone knows it, they’ve known it since the beginning, because nobody should be that eager to pull a live bomb out of a guy’s leg just to impress the new (and very hot) guy at work.
So, it makes sense that Eddie’s a little turned on by Buck’s bad dancing. It’s not entirely Eddie’s fault, though; he’s only just realised he’s very gay and very much in love with his best friend whilst being 800 miles away in Texas, so a little ogling in private is warranted, even if everyone—including his own son—knows.
Well, everyone but Buck, that is.
But back to the present. Tragically, this is the moment that Buck decides to turn around, intending to put the carton of milk back in the fridge, but what he gets instead is the jump scare of a lifetime.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” Buck shouts, dramatically slapping a hand on his heart as he finally notices Eddie standing in the doorway, watching him with a stupid little smile on his face. Not subtle whatsoever.
Eddie, being the cheeky shit he is and Father of the Year 14 years running, pulls this zinger, “Actually, my name is Eddie.”
“Haha. You’re not funny,” Buck replies, deadpan. He opens the fridge door, the cold air cooling his now beet-red face. He puts the milk away. “Why are you staring at me, weirdo?”
To any other person, it’s very clear why Eddie is staring at Buck. But alas, Buck, bless him, is a little oblivious. As in he truly didn’t notice that maybe he kinda feels more than friendly feelings for Eddie until his dear sister Maddie pointed it out, claiming ‘it wouldn’t be so crazy’.
Eddie shrugs; he’s leaning against the side of the entryway, so his shoulder rubs against the wall. “You looked happy, with your terrible singing and even worse dancing, it’s endearing,” He says, flirting very evidently to anyone who witnesses the scene; everyone but Buck.
Buck turns his back on Eddie, a pitiful way of trying to hide the blush that’s growing on his cheeks, almost as pink as the birthmark above his eye. Since Eddie’s return from El Paso, he’s been bolder, saying shit like this and looking at Buck like that. It is so clearly flirting, Eddie’s attempt at making a move without outright hitting on Buck. It would probably work if Eddie had decided to come out to him first, seeing as Buck is still under the impression that Eddie is as straight as a ruler, despite the fact that no part of that man screams straight.
Because instead, Buck has to push down his desire to waltz across the room and plant a big-ass kiss on Eddie’s very kissable lips.
Well, that would be if Buck actually had feelings for Eddie; it would probably be driving him crazy, thinking thoughts like that. But he doesn’t, so it’s not. He’s very normal. Always.
Lizzy, though, through his record speakers, betrays him, singing something about kissing underneath kitchen lights. Curse you, Lizzy McAlpine.
Before Buck can even think up a quip to reply with, defending his honor of dancing like nobody’s watching, Eddie continues. “I never see you use the record player,” he remarks. His head tilting to where it lives on the other side of the kitchen wall.
“Yeah,” Buck coughs, finishing cleaning up the kitchen. “I usually used to use it when I wanted to break the silence of the empty loft, so whenever you weren’t around, I guess.” Buck was never a fan of the quiet, it was too present in his parents’ house growing up after Maddie left. It’s just another reason why he loves living with Eddie and Chris so much, there’s never a dull moment with Buck’s favorite people.
“You’ve got a proper setup and everything,” Eddie comments, the smile on his face still present. It usually doesn’t falter when he’s with Buck. He only smiles this big and stupid for Buck.
While Buck is clearly obliviously unaware most of the time, that is really only in context with his feelings for Eddie. He’s actually a decently smart guy majority of the time. He knows what Eddie is doing right now—getting Buck to infodump about his interests non-stop, probably to deflect from his stalker and dad-joke allegations.
Obviously, Buck takes the bait. He loves talking Eddie’s ear off.
“Well, I spent a stupid amount of money on it. I’m committed. I didn’t wanna waste my time and money on one of those suitcase record players. You know, over time they damage the vinyls. So, I had to go all out, get the one with the best reviews.” Buck briefly shudders at the thought of a Crosley record player. He’s rabbling, moving around the kitchen with ease. “And then obviously I had to get speakers too, really good ones, so the sound quality makes it worth it. No point buying all these records if you can’t listen to them in the best quality. Which is why I got the sleeves, too, to store them so they don’t get dusty. Also, why I have the velvet brush and spray.”
“Right. Is that why your credit score is so bad?” Eddie jokes. Except it’s not really funny now that they have a joint bank account, because what type of idiots raise a child together, live together, sleep in the same bed and share a bank account BEFORE even kissing. These idiots, that’s who.
“It’s worth it,” Buck says, throwing the cloth he was using to wipe up the counters into the sink.
Eddie, always endeared by Buck, simply nods with a grin growing bashfully on his cheeks. “I’m sure. What are we listening to?” He stands up from the doorway, turning around to walk over to the record player. Buck follows behind, leaving the kitchen while Eddie picks up the vinyl resting against the speaker.
“Uh, Lizzy McAlpine,” Buck says, watching him as Eddie flips over the empty record sleeve. He reads the tracklist before placing it back down. “It’s her second album, I have her third, ‘Older’ as well.”
“You do have a lot,” Eddie comments, bending down to look in the crate under the table, flipping through them. Every bone in Buck’s body (especially one in particular, but you can guess which) has to fight the urge to not stare at Eddie’s perfect ass. In a totally platonic way, of course. Buck’s never been above checking out a hot guy’s ass or so he says.
Eddie pauses slightly while flicking through, staring at Buck’s anniversary edition of Chappell Roan’s ‘The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess’, it’s a coral pressing.
Buck assumes Eddie lingers on this album for a second longer than the others in a super heterosexual way.
Buck clearly assumes wrong.
“It’s fun to collect. That one’s a Record Store Day exclusive,” Buck points out as Eddie holds a Taylor Swift vinyl in his hands.
“Cool,” He nods, staring down.
“Sorry, you probably don’t care that much,” Buck exhales, taking a step back from Eddie. He realises his constant yapping isn’t that interesting to everyone.
Everyone but Eddie, that is. Something he seems to forget in this moment, despite Eddie always being the one to encourage Buck’s non-stop chattering, even if it annoys the rest of the team.
Thankfully, Eddie also loves to remind him.
“No, I do. I like listening to you talk about things you care about. It’s sweet.” Eddie beams as he speaks, standing back up a little closer than Buck remembers he ever used to before he left for El Paso. Buck attempts to brush off the fluttering in his stomach at Eddie’s words as nothing. Eddie touches his fingertips against Buck’s forearm, and Buck convinces himself that the chill he feels down his spine is from a draft in the room. He ignores the fact that all the windows are closed. Delusion will do that to you, and Evan Buckley is definitely a delusional man.
Buck’s tongue catches in his throat. He’s speechless, trying to come up with reasons as to how this interaction could be interpreted as platonic. Since Eddie’s return, Buck has had to do that a lot, trying to persuade himself to believe that everything is fine and normal between them. Maddie’s words that night in her kitchen still haunt him, and the way that Eddie has been acting since he’s come home has put him on edge. There’s something unspoken happening between them—something that Buck is refusing to touch with a ten-foot pole because he knows it’s all in his head. Eddie is straight, and Buck needs to get a grip.
He looks away from Eddie, his cow-like eyes too distracting for Buck to come up with proper words that actually make sense right now.
And once again, Lizzy, through his speakers, backstabs Buck as the bridge of the song plays out, singing something about weddings. What terrible timing as Buck tries so very hard not to imagine Eddie standing underneath the altar, looking as beautiful as he always does with Chris by his side and Bobby officiating. All their friends would be there—their real family. Maybe Maddie even walks Buck down the aisle, they’d both be crying, and then Buck grabs Eddie’s hand–
Wait, what?
Um, anyway!
Buck decides he hates this song now.
“You know what we should do?” Eddie asks, somehow moving even closer into Buck’s personal space bubble. There’s a glint in his eyes, it’s so bright. Buck can’t help but stare back in awe, treasuring the happiness within Eddie right now. Buck remembers what he was like before Chris returned home—the sadness that replaced that gleam; now, all Buck wants is to keep that glint in Eddie’s eyes forever.
“What?” Buck replies against his better judgment, because one thing about that glint in Eddie’s eyes is that it usually draws in mischief. Most likely at Buck’s expense, not that he’d ever complain. Buck loves to be the object of Eddie’s desires.
Kinda reminds him of a certain pick-up basketball game, but that was really embarrassing for Buck, so let’s not get into it right now.
But, speaking about embarrassing Buck…
Eddie wades in closer, his breath hitting hard against Buck’s throat. Buck’s Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard, the shiver down his spine striking again at the lack of space between the two. Sure, Buck and Eddie tend to ignore each other’s personal space, but Buck can’t recall a time that Eddie’s ever been this close to him.
He’s totally not freaking out.
He repeats three little words in his head like a mantra as Eddie draws in closer, his musky scent intoxicating to Buck; he could bathe in it all day.
Eddie is straight, Eddie is straight, Eddie is straight.
“Dance,” Eddie answers the question that Buck forgot he had even asked. He’s leaning in, whispering into Buck’s ear in what a sane person would describe as seductive, but of course, Buck has to assume that this is all platonic. Just bros being bros or whatever.
Buck chokes, not smoothly in the least, his mind a funny buzz. “You wanna dance? With me?”
“Yes,” Eddie replies with an eye roll, like it’s obvious. He seems to forget that Buck wouldn’t know obviousness even if it hit him over the head and told him he’s in love with his best friend.
“Why?” Buck asks, his voice pitching a few octaves too high that probably only dogs could hear him. His stuttering and incoordination would probably be considered odd to anyone else, but this is Eddie; he’s simply grinning back at Buck in endearment. Eddie loves that only he can make Buck weak in his knees like this; he’s the only one to see Buck in this way, truly down so astronomically bad.
“Because,” Eddie says, dragging out the syllables as he strokes his hand down Buck’s forearm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Buck resists the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, wanting to hide from the irresistible look on Eddie’s face. “Dancing makes me happy, and you make me happy. C’mon, Buck.” His hand slips into Buck’s.
But what Buck is currently unaware of is Eddie’s mind running through metaphors about juice and joy and Buck, because to him, they all have the same meaning.
“Is my dancing really that bad that you just wanna embarrass me further, Mr. Award Winning Ballroom Dancer?” Buck jokes, choking on a faint laugh. He’s trying desperately hard not to overthink this situation. He really doesn’t want to let himself imagine what the hungry look in Eddie’s eyes means—almost like he wants to eat Buck whole. To be fair, Buck wouldn’t be opposed. It seems like a worthy way to go to him, to be fully consumed by Eddie Diaz.
(And yet Buck still claims he doesn’t have feelings for him, sureeee.)
“You’re no fun.” Eddie pouts, but his words have no harsh meaning. His lips quickly turn back up in a grin, and Buck struggles to prevent every part of himself from crashing their lips together. Instead, he simply stands there as Eddie interlocks their fingers. All the while, Buck certainly doesn’t think about how Eddie’s hands are somehow bigger than his own. He doesn’t think about how Eddie’s long fingers are gripping his. And he definitely isn’t thinking about where else Eddie could touch on his body with those fingers.
This is PG-13 after all.
Eddie’s eyes meet Buck’s, his gaze turning soft and sincere. Buck’s breath hitches; he actually doesn’t know if he’s still properly breathing—good thing Eddie knows CPR. Some light mouth-to-mouth would do Buck wonders right now.
Buck feels tingling all over his body. It starts in his toes and travels up, the feeling growing as Eddie edges closer. His whole body is on fire, set ablaze by Eddie’s touch. He has felt the tingling around Eddie before since he returned home, ignoring it for the sake of their friendship. At the end of the day, Eddie is his best friend.
Except, none of this is normal between friends. Buck and Eddie have never had a normal friendship, they know this.
“May I have this dance, Evan Buckley?” Eddie asks, the grin on his face only growing wider. A small dimple pokes out, and Buck’s knees almost buckle at the sight. He tightens his grip on Buck’s hand and tries tugging him closer. Of course, Buck lets him. However, there’s a sense of shyness beneath it all, and not for the first time today, Buck feels his heart skip a beat.
“Chris is right, you are cringe,” Buck mocks, yet the redness growing on his cheeks betrays him. Eddie lets out a fake scoff, and despite Buck’s words, he still lets Eddie pull him in. After all, he’s a weak man when it comes to Eddie Diaz.
Yeah, okay, so maybe he’s kinda in love with Eddie. Just a little bit. Like a totally normal amount. It certainly doesn’t consume every crevice of his body, each little nook and cranny. Eddie most definitely doesn’t take up every corner of his mind at every single moment of the day. His heart doesn’t beat any faster, nor do his palms get sweaty just at the thought of Eddie. Buck most surely isn’t harboring shitty poetry in the notes app of his phone just about Eddie’s eyes.
Okay, that’s a lie.
God, Buck hates it when Maddie’s right. He should make her an edible arrangement or something.
“I’m not hearing a no,” Eddie chuckles, his tone playful. He’s pulling Buck over to the living room, the furniture a mix-match between Buck’s and Eddie’s with a few of Chris’ things thrown about. It’s so aggressively domestic. Literally, how could Buck not see it before?
He has to fight the grin threatening to overtake his whole face as he follows in Eddie’s lead. “Fine. But be nice.”
“Always.”
Eddie directs them to an open space next to the coffee table. His hand never leaves Buck’s as he guides them into the room, and Buck simply relishes the feeling of being led by Eddie. He would honestly follow him anywhere. If Eddie said jump, Buck would ask how high. If Eddie wanted to dance, Buck would simply dance with him. It’s only a little pathetic, he thinks. Certainly not something he would admit out loud, Hen and Chimney would have a field day with this one.
Eddie places them into the slow dancing position, knowing it like the back of his hand from apparent years of competitive ballroom dancing. Buck lost his mind just a little bit when he discovered this little fun fact about his best friend. Buck loves learning new things about him.
Eddie bears a faint grin on his face as he grabs Buck by the shoulders, letting him stand tall on his own. Naturally, Buck stumbles a little after Eddie, always eager to follow after him.
Slowly, Eddie drags a teasing hand down Buck’s bicep and further down his arm again before gripping tightly on his waist, savouring the feeling. Buck swallows harshly at the movement, the sensuality of it all. His gulp is so audible it should be mortifying, but seeing as he’s equally as insane about his best friend, Eddie simply revels in the effect he has on Buck. Eddie’s other hand still holds firmly onto his shoulder—the shoulder that Eddie always grasps when trying to find Buck’s eyes.
Buck swears he can see stars in this moment, or maybe it’s just Eddie (he does have a silver star anyway).
Unsure of how to even begin, Buck follows in Eddie’s lead. He’s dazed as he mirrors Eddie’s previous movements, placing both of his hands on Eddie’s waist, and Buck fears he’ll never let go.
Unintentionally, he tightens his grasp on Eddie’s waist as Eddie moves in closer to him. Buck’s whole body goes hot and rigid, his bones feel like jelly. He may be dying, but he’s completely okay with that. Buck knows what it feels like to die, and somehow this —Eddie’s touch, his breath on his skin, the way his cheeks are turning rosy—has a greater effect on Buck than death ever did. Buck trusts Eddie fully in this moment, like he always does.
With perfect timing, the next track on the record begins to play through the speakers. Buck has to resist the urge to roll his eyes as the first notes of ‘reckless driving’ begin.
Of course it’s a fucking love song.
He is so beyond fucked.
Eddie, oblivious to the turmoil in Buck’s head, simply pulls him in even tighter. The hand on Buck’s waist slips under his thin t-shirt, and Buck feels goosebumps all over his body. Eddie’s hand is hot on his bare skin, and it tickles. The fluttering in Buck’s stomach simply grows, and at this point, he is at the mercy of it all—he’s at the mercy of Eddie.
The feeling is too intimate, even Buck can’t think of a heterosexual explanation for this. And maybe, he doesn’t want to anymore.
They’re chest-to-chest now, leaving absolutely no room for Jesus, and they begin to sway. Eddie directs Buck through the movements, his feet always one step ahead of Buck’s as the song plays out through the room. Lizzy’s soft vocals are the only thing that can be heard besides Buck’s deep, winded breaths. He’s stiff, on edge, and acting like a complete fool. Buck kinda feels like he’s losing his mind, and honestly, who could blame him? It’s not every day you’re face-to-face with your best friend/roommate/work partner/love of your life, slow dancing in the living room.
Eddie, on the other hand, is the picture of calm, cool, and collected. He’s fucking happy that Buck just wants to bottle up the feeling and keep it forever. He always wants Eddie like this, he never wants him to feel pain or sadness ever again.
Buck can’t help the way he urges to stare at Eddie, he’s just so beautiful right now—the absolute epitome of joy. He’s enamoured with the way his hair falls over his forehead, the slut strand that Buck has so lovely declared it in his mind for himself, only. His hair isn’t gelled back for once, it may have something to do with Buck accidentally throwing out his god-forsaken hair gel a few days ago. If Eddie noticed it missing, he hasn’t commented on it. Buck prays he never buys that damn hair gel again.
They’re so close that Buck could count Eddie’s eyelashes. His big brown eyes are so big, filled with something Buck wants to assume is love, but that would be insane (right?).
Again, Buck trips over his feet from the distraction that is Eddie Diaz, almost taking the man down with him. He could try blaming it on his lack of coordination, but he knows the real reason is Eddie himself, and his soft stroking on Buck’s collarbone. Eddie, unfazed by the stumble, simply moves his hand from Buck’s shoulder to holding his chest in place. Buck’s breath hitches at the feeling, at knowing right under Eddie’s palm is Buck’s rapidly beating heart.
It should be embarrassing, his constant stumbling and racing heart, knowing that Eddie is privy to it all. It doesn’t take a genius to notice how Buck feels about his best friend; he knows Eddie must have picked up on something by now, but despite his earlier stress-baking, Buck can’t seem to care about whether Eddie realises if he’s in love with him. The wide grin on Eddie’s face and his rosy cheeks are simply too distracting.
Besides, Buck’s starting to be convinced that maybe the feeling is mutual. Maybe it wouldn’t be too crazy.
And then he remembers, the elephant in the room. Eddie’s elephant—his straightness.
Eddie breaks the calm silence between, freeing Buck of the chaos that is his wandering mind—a dangerous thing, truly. “I think, I like this one,” he says simply. It takes Buck a moment to realise that he’s talking about the song; he’s so unaware of everything else around him right now besides him and Eddie. It’s like they are the only two people in the whole world.
“Yeah, it’s a good one.”
The pair continues to sway as the needle moves over the grooves, Eddie’s eyes never leaving Buck’s. He feels himself growing warmer under Eddie’s piercing gaze, staring at Buck like he’s the most amazing thing in the room. They don’t speak, just simply enjoying each other’s company. Buck feels hot; his skin under Eddie’s touch feels like it’s on fire. The heat of their bodies pressing against each other as they dance.
Buck knows a lot about fires, it kinda comes with the job description. He’d even claim to be an expert. He knows how they start, how easily the flames can grow, and he also knows how to put them out. He’s experienced countless over the years, except they’ve never felt like this. Nothing compares to the fire between him and Eddie right now, slow dancing in their living room.
The mantra repeats in his head again as Eddie’s mouth dares to move closer to Buck’s ear. Eddie looks up at him through his long eyelashes, the slight alone makes Buck want to drop to his knees. Eddie’s breath lingers on the side of his neck. There is not a single inch between their bodies right now. Buck can feel Eddie everywhere.
“It kinda reminds me of us,” Eddie whispers, his lips almost grazing Buck’s earlobe. Buck swallows hard as Eddie gently places his head on Buck’s shoulder, with Buck’s pulse racing directly into his ear.
“Oh,” is all Buck can stutter. Because yeah, it’s a love song.
A song about one person being careful in love and the other being reckless.
Buck may have an idea about who is who.
He’s been called reckless enough times in his life that he’s lost count years ago, but not with this. He cares for Eddie too much to have ever been reckless with his love. He has hidden it, repressed it. Convinced himself that nothing could ever happen, emphasising the fact that Eddie is straight—his straight best friend. Of course, he’s careful.
But Eddie isn’t. He’s been reckless, at least as of lately. Reckless with Buck.
And Buck is going fucking crazy over it. It can’t all just be in his head.
Eddie hums along to the tune of the song while Buck’s mind runs wild, because this can’t be real. None of this makes sense to him. It’s all a dream—a really fucking good one where Eddie may not be straight and he may just love Buck back. He’s gonna wake up at any moment now and find himself alone in bed. Eddie and Chris will still be in El Paso, and Buck will be all by himself in Eddie’s house.
Maybe Buck needs to call up his therapist again. He’s just being delusional. He’s simply lost the plot now, hallucinating realities where his best friend loves him back and they live together, raising their kid, and all is well.
Actually, a therapist isn’t even enough. Buck needs to be committed at this point because somehow he’s tripped even further into this mind-fuck that Eddie is now wrapping his arms around Buck’s whole body, embracing him with every inch of himself.
Buck, completely off his rocker, freezes in place. He stares down at Eddie, tucked into the space between his shoulder and collarbone, in disbelief.
What the fuck is even happening right now?
His body has gone stiff, he’s not even swaying to the music anymore. Buck just stands there in total shock, his arms going limp by his sides as Eddie snakes his own around Buck’s stomach.
Eddie is unbothered by Buck’s crash-out and simply squeezes tighter. He sways for the both of them with his head unmoving from the crook in Buck’s neck.
“Uh, you know, it’s–” Buck coughs, looking anywhere in the room besides at the man in his arms. “It’s a love song,” he somehow manages to squeak out after a minute of silence, feeling the need to inform Eddie of the obvious.
“Wow, really? Didn’t notice,” Eddie mumbles into Buck’s shoulder, his voice dripping in sarcasm. A cheeky grin growing on his glowing cheeks. Despite still currently freaking out, Buck rolls his eyes. At the end of the day, no matter how deeply he may be in love with him, Eddie is still his stupid best friend.
They stay like that for a few more moments in a nice silence, the only sound being the record scratching and a male’s voice joining Lizzy’s in the second verse. Eddie sways them as if there’s nothing wrong while Buck remains in shock. He hesitantly wraps an arm around Eddie’s back again, almost so slowly you’d think it pained him to do so.
Buck’s uncertainty and his awkwardness do not get pass Eddie, always knowing him inside and out. He feels Buck’s tension, and he knows why. At least one of them has some sense tonight.
He looks up at Buck from his resting place on his shoulder. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Eddie asks, moving a hand from his embrace around Buck and bringing it up to poke Buck on the forehead. His finger lingers there, and then Eddie slowly drags the tip of his fingernail down the side of Buck’s face, pausing on his birthmark for a second.
Buck thinks—no, he knows— that Eddie Diaz will be the death of him.
Broken from his dazed stare from Eddie’s soft caressing, Buck hums, “Hmm? Nothing, just–” he sighs and looks down at Eddie. Eddie’s big eyes gaze back up at him, and Buck chokes on his spit again. He loses all sense of acting like a normal functioning human being—the Diaz effect, he guesses. “Is this real? Are you really here?”
Ever the charmer, Eddie laughs right in Buck’s face. It should be gross, the way that Eddie kinda spits at him and the ever-present smell of coffee on his breath, but Buck is so down bad he finds it endearing instead. Jesus Christ, he needs help.
“This is all very real, Buck. Are you feeling okay?” Eddie says with the largest grin on his face, laughing at him whilst still checking in because he’s a saint like that. He jokingly places the back of his hand against Buck’s forehead, looking for a fever, before moving to the back of Buck’s neck. He runs his fingers through the little curls at the nape there, and Buck almost whimpers out loud.
“Yeah, I–” Buck looks back down at Eddie. He pauses, unable to speak. Eddie just looks so Eddie. He’s everything that Buck has ever wanted.
And he’s looking right back at Buck in the exact same way.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Buck stammers.
Eddie winks in response, and Buck nearly loses all sense of control. “Why? Is it making you sweat?”
“Just–, since when have you been so smooth? ” Buck blurts out as Eddie chuckles again, leaning in closer until they’re inches apart again. Buck feels a buzz in his lower abdomen.
“Since when have you been so not? C’mon Firehose–”
Buck roughly cuts him off. “Okay, don’t say that now,” he stutters, embarrassment running through him.
“What–?”
“You’ll ruin the moment.” Buck sighs, hiding his blushing face in his hands. From the other side, he hears Eddie laugh before he tugs Buck closer. Eddie’s hands lay to rest upon Buck’s, willing him to remove them from his face. Eddie pulls gently at his sleeve, and Buck’s hands run down his hot face.
“Oh.‘The moment?’ Are we having a moment?” Eddie teases, both of his hands slipping into Buck’s as they rest by his sides. Eddie begins to sway their bodies again to the almost-forgotten music.
“Uh, no–” Buck stutters while Eddie just laughs sweetly at him again. He sighs, “Eddie, we’re literally slow dancing to a love song. We’re having a moment.”
Eddie’s grip on his hand strengthens before leading it back to the place on his waist, willing Buck to fall back into their previous positions while they continue to dance once more.
“Good. That was my intention.” Eddie looks up at Buck and smiles so brightly, his thoughts running wild with something about juice. Moving in tighter, he’s determined. He’s gonna get his juice.
Eddie’s face is so close to his now that Buck’s gaze catches on the tiny scar on his bottom lip. He wonders what it will feel like against his tongue.
“What does that mean?” Buck asks quietly, sincerely. This whole situation has messed with his mind in ways he’d never known were possible. How is it that Buck is here, slow dancing with who is probably the love of his life, yet neither of them knows it? Not any part of this makes sense to Buck, who is still under the impression that the man before him is straight.
There’s a quietness in the room, a dull in the song before the bridge drops. The silence is deafening. Eddie falters for a moment, his suave charm diminishing. A sense of apprehension washes over him, his smile falling for a brief moment as his gaze hardens. A thousand regrets run through Buck’s mind. He curses himself for ruining the sweet moment. He wishes he had never asked, that Buck had never questioned whatever it is that has been going on between him and Eddie since his return to LA.
Buck would rather live a life walking on eggshells, dancing around this messy thing between the two, if it just meant that this moment could last forever. He’d live a life of ignorance to his feelings if it meant Eddie would always be just in reach, even if not in the way that Buck wants.
“I just mean–” Eddie struggles to find the words to explain everything that he wants to say. All sense of smoothness flying out the window. The beat kicks in, and the bridge of the song plays all around them. His eyes flicker down to Buck’s lips, pausing briefly before returning back to his blue eyes. His gaze searches Buck’s, looking for a sign.
It seems he finds it, as the next thing Buck knows, Eddie’s lips are pressed against his own.
And not for the first time this afternoon, Buck finds himself struggling to breathe. If he thought he was dying before—that Eddie was killing him—now he is truly dead. There is no air in his lungs, no blood rushing through his body. He is simply not alive.
It’s melodramatic, of course, but what isn’t between Buck and Eddie?
The kiss is soft and sweet. A brief, stolen moment. It all ensues too quickly. Buck doesn’t even get the chance to fully process what is happening, to reciprocate the love he has for Eddie, until Eddie pulls away, as if electrocuted by his touch.
Buck blinks. He stands still, in complete shock. He failed to even kiss him back. Eddie, in total astonishment at his own actions, also stands still. His stunned face mirrors Buck’s.
“I’m sorry–” Eddie mutters, pulling away from Buck to leave at least a few feet of distance between them. At the loss of contact, Buck feels desolate. “I didn’t mean to kiss you.”
And just like that, if Buck were dead, this is the final nail in the coffin. Buck falters, stepping further away from Eddie. His heart breaks.
This is why he hasn’t allowed himself to fall in love with his straight best friend. Eddie was just caught up in the moment, the kiss meant nothing. It was a mistake, never meant to be.
Or at least, that’s what Buck tells himself to ease the pain because he’s an idiot. After all, it’s not every day people go running around dancing with and kissing their best friends like it’s nothing.
In the background, the two voices from Buck’s record player mix together—the story of the couple unable to understand each other and their love. The message behind the song at this time falls on deaf ears.
“You didn’t?” Buck asks softly, looking at their socked feet. He refuses to meet Eddie’s eyes.
“Well, no– I did,” Eddie clarifies, and stressfully runs a hand through his messy hair. Intrigued, Buck immediately shoots back up. “I just– didn’t mean to startle you, is all.”
With the words sinking in, Buck fights a small grin from growing on his face. “Wait, so it’s not an accident? You had every intention of kissing me?”
“Yes, Buck–” Eddie sighs. His soft gaze meets Buck’s, and Buck can feel the fire growing under his ribcage again. Hope isn’t all lost. “How does one accidentally kiss someone?”
Buck shrugs. “You’d be surprised.”
The laugh that Eddie lets out is so valiant and so full of admiration, Buck’s heart warms all over again. “God, you’re so–” Eddie shakes his head, “I’m kissing you again now, okay?”
“Okay.”
Buck stands in place with a stupid grin on his face while Eddie crosses the distance between them, closing the gap. His lips meet Buck’s again, but this time, Buck kisses back fiercely. Buck doesn’t do things half-assed. If this is his one and only chance at kissing Eddie Diaz, he’s going to make it the best god-damn kiss of his life.
Eddie presses hard against Buck’s mouth, and Buck presses back harder, slipping his tongue in while Eddie gasps a little. If their first kiss was brief and soft, this is the complete opposite. They’re synchronised, pressing and pulling at the exactly right moments, almost as if they were made for each other. Buck tugs Eddie in even closer, pulling him in from the nape of his neck while running his fingers through Eddie’s wild hair. Eddie moans, causing Buck to kiss him even deeper while tilting their mouths for a better angle.
Retaliating, Eddie pushes him back, thrusting Buck against the wall behind him. They kiss hungrily, as if this would be the only chance to taste each other. It’s everything Buck has never allowed himself to dream of, until a sudden realisation hits him over the head. Oh, this dumb, stupid boy.
Buck pauses and pushes Eddie off him, breaking them apart. “Wait–” he gasps, huffing and puffing against the wall, “You’re straight.”
The damn ‘S’ word again. When will he learn? Unfortunately, it seems like this needs to be spelled out for Buck.
Because if kissing a man as a man makes you queer, and Eddie is kissing Buck, who is in fact a man, then…
Come on! Put two and two together, Buckley!
The look on Eddie’s face is priceless. And Buck simply doesn’t know how to interrupt it. Clearly, Buck was never the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to his feelings. He drags a hand down his beating red face, gasping for air.
Eddie bites his swollen lip, his teeth poking out into a small grin. His face is flushed, the rosiness of his cheeks deeper than at any other time Buck has ever seen it. He runs a hand through his messy hair, all from Buck’s doing of constant tugging.
“Buck. I just kissed you, twice, because I wanted to. Does that sound like I’m straight to you?” He asks, tilting his head and moving back towards Buck.
“Okay, no, but–”
Eddie cuts him off before Buck can continue his downward spiral. A downward spiral that has been going on for the last 7 years, but we digress.
“Because I’m not,” Eddie admits. Buck sucks in a sharp breath.
Oh?
Oh.
“I love you,” Eddie says with a stupid smile on his face.
Buck, simply, loses his mind. He’s finally catching up to the rest of the world.
Eddie is gay. Eddie is in love with him.
What the fuck.
“You do?” he asks, in complete and utter shock.
Eddie laughs at him, because yeah, it’s obvious as hell. It’s been obvious as hell for the last 7 years. “Yes! You idiot.”
Buck grins, lifting himself off the wall and falling back into Eddie’s arms, kissing him with every inch of life. Eddie stumbles back with the force of a 6’2 beefcake of a man leaning against him with his whole weight. They giggle into each other’s mouths, overjoyed.
“I love you, too,” Buck presses into his lips.
“I know,” Eddie huffs, endeared and enamoured.
Buck pulls away and gives his shoulder a slightly rough but playful shove, and Eddie just simply grabs to pull him in closer instead. Their faces inches apart, matching grins on both.
“Have you been tormenting me on purpose?”
“Obviously.” Eddie jokingly rolls his eyes.
“Oh, my God,” Buck exhales with an exacerbated chuckle. Eddie’s laughter grows louder, his lips press against Buck’s again. It’s an addiction now, kissing each other.
The kiss is messier than the others; it’s more so a combination of their teeth clunking and deep breaths, with both of their grins getting in the way of actual lips touching. But Buck wouldn’t want it any other way.
Lost to the world around them, the next song on the record begins to play, yet neither Buck nor Eddie seems to notice. They stand there in the living room, mouths pressing against each other, bodies with zero space in between. They sway along without a care in the world, simply too engaged with one another to pay attention to anything else.
They continue to dance again, sneaking constant stolen kisses off one another to make up for the years of lost time. The crinkles around Eddie’s eyes are permanent, and so very beloved by Buck. He could kiss Eddie all day if given the chance.
And now he has the chance, after years and years of longing. He never plans on stopping now.
Eventually, the last track on the disc ends, silence filling the house. Well, silence other than Buck and Eddie’s soft chuckles and rough gasps of air every time they separate, too lost in each other to make note of anything else. The only sound for a moment is the buzz of the needle moving to the centre fold of the record.
Their faces are inches apart as Eddie speaks against his lips. “You know, I did just drop Chris off at a friend’s house for the night.”
Buck nods along, chasing back after Eddie’s mouth. “You did just do that, yes.”
“So,” Eddie drags out the word while tugging on Buck’s arm further into the living room. “We have the whole house to ourselves.”
“That’s true,” he grins.
Chuckling, Eddie tightens his grip and presses a small kiss on Buck’s nose. “C’mon, Buck. Let’s go make out on the couch.”
“Uh, yes! Yes! Good idea. Best idea you’ve ever had,” Buck stutters and rushes over to their couch.
“You’re so stupid,” Eddie laughs, pulling Buck in for another peck on the lips.
“And yet, you’re in love with me.”
“Yeah, I am,” Eddie mutters against his lips before pushing Buck onto his back on the couch, climbing into his lap. Buck can’t help but grin back up at the man above him—his best friend, that he is so in love with, who just happens to love him back.