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“Eddie,” Buck shouts down the hallway, “Did we forget to buy more shaving cream?”
“It should be under the sink,” he hollers back.
Buck continues shuffling through the toiletries, “Yeah I’m looking—“ Some plastic clinks. Buck tilts his head and reaches out to inspect it.
Mascara.
Two small bottles. One black and the other a dark brown.
Buck hums and puts it back. He finds the shaving cream.
“I know it’s been a while,” a freshly shaven Buck sits on the couch next to Eddie, “But did Marisol forget to take her mascara when she left?”
Eddie pales. He looks away, fiddling with the remote as he absentmindedly changes channels on the TV. “It, uh,” Eddie ducks his head and sighs something soft, “They’re mine.”
Buck blinks. “Oh, sorry,” he moves his head an inch forward in an attempt to catch Eddie’s eyes, “I didn’t think you’d use it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie meets Buck’s gaze, but seems to be looking through Buck, “I didn’t either.”
“Why do you have them?”
Eddie mumbles something to himself, “It’s stupid,” Buck thinks he catches. He switches channels again.
Buck takes the remote out of Eddie’s hand and shuts the TV. “It’s not stupid. Talk to me.”
It’s a minute before Eddie responds. Buck lets him think. “When I went to Texas,” Eddie swallows, “I did some—“ He trails off, placing his thoughts, “Self reflection.”
Buck nods.
“I saw how my parents were treating him. Just like they were treating me when I was a kid. Once when we were shopping,” He puts on a gruff voice, “‘Christopher, isn’t that sweater from the girls’ section?’ When he wanted to go to his friend’s place: ‘Don’t you want to hang out with that nice girl in your chemistry class?’” Eddie’s lip twitches, “My mom too. She caught him looking across the mall to the makeup store next door.”
Eddie sniffles and breaks eye contact, “I don’t want to raise him like that.”
Buck puts his hand on Eddie’s knee, “You’re not.”
He smiles something sad, “I’m trying not to. I saw a two for twenty deal at the store he was looking at and had to lie to my parents that I was going to the bathroom,” He huffs a laugh, “But I ran over to buy the mascara.”
Buck grins. “Did he like them?”
“I haven’t—“ Eddie twiddles with his fingers, “He hasn’t seen them yet. I wanted to do it together. Both mine and his.”
The blond feels his heart constrict. “That’s great Eddie,” he smiles, “I’m sure he’ll love it.”
“I hope so,” Eddie purses his lips.
Buck readjusts the way he’s sitting to angle his knees towards Eddie, “Hey,” he gestures a hand out, “If you’re nervous, I can help.”
Eddie hums in question.
“I was the only one around when Maddie was first starting to use makeup,” Buck chuckles and tucks his chin to his chest, “So naturally she experimented on me.”
Buck looks back up to see Eddie pausing. He’s certainly thinking something, but Buck can’t quite place what. Something Buck can’t place flicks in his eyes—a flashing storm of hope, confusion, humor, and something else.
“That would be great Buck,” Eddie’s features soften, “Thank you.”
So later that night as Eddie is washing dishes while Christopher towel dries them, Buck hears Eddie clear his throat. Buck pauses where he’s wiping down the table and looks over.
“Chris,” Eddie trails off, “Do you remember when we were in Texas—”
The air in the room thickens. Buck can see Chris’ shoulders tighten as Eddie works up the nerves to continue.
“When we were up at the Cielo Vista,” Buck presumes this is the mall, “And you were looking over at that makeup store?”
Christopher places the dish down and takes a step away from the sink. “Dad I’m sorry—”
“No!” Eddie startles. He tosses the sponge in the sink and puts a hand on his son’s shoulder with his thumb right in the curve of his collarbone—a special spot Buck has become familiar with in his near decade of being around the Diazes. “No, no,” Eddie continues, eyes wide, “It’s okay.”
Buck finishes cleaning the table and moves to stand in the doorway, leaning against the wall to give his boys space.
Eddie crouches to meet Chris’ height and moves his hand to Chris’ upper arm, leaving a wet spot in the boy’s shirt. “I’m not like abuelo and abuela, you know that right?”
Christopher nods. Buck smiles a soft grin.
Eddie nods, “I saw you looking over, so I grabbed a couple tubes of mascara for us to try out together.”
The teenager opens his mouth, but says nothing.
“Is…” Eddie risks a glance to Buck. He gives his friend an encouraging nod and eyebrow raise before Eddie looks back, all in the flash of a second. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah Dad,” Chris says, “It’s okay.”
Eddie stands back to his height. “Great, I just y’know,” he shrugs and grabs the next dish to wash, “Just thought it’d be fun.” He acts cool as if he wasn’t freaking out less than thirty seconds ago.
Buck huffs a laugh under his breath.
God he’s infatuated with this idiot.
It’s not a new thought, not in the slightest.
But Buck internally embraces his feelings for Eddie despite the man being straight because, he thinks, anyone that loves Eddie—truly loves Eddie like he does—could never deny their feelings. Not even the strongest person. Since living here, Buck wakes up every day with an immense satisfaction knowing that Eddie will be the first person he sees in the morning, the first person he talks to, the first person that sips the morning brew of dark roast coffee.
To Buck, Eddie is an undeniable person to love. Rejecting his own feelings for Eddie is like sitting on the sun and trying to push it back down to not rise the next morning. Like attempting to grab the ocean and pull it back from creating a wave.
Loving Eddie was meant to happen to Buck.
Yeah Maddie, he thinks, it’s not so crazy.
He doesn’t act on the feelings though.
Because Eddie is straight.
“Wanna do it now?” Christopher asks, clearing Buck from his thoughts.
“Sure,” Eddie shrugs again, “Buck said he’ll help us out.”
Buck pushes himself off the wall, raising his hand in some lame attempt of a wave. “I’ll go grab it.”
When Buck comes back holding two tubes of mascara and two handheld mirrors, Eddie and Christopher are sitting at the kitchen table with the overhead light on. “Chris, do you want black or brown?”
“Hmm,” he thinks, “Black.”
He hands Eddie the brown and Chris the black, who untwists the packaging and studies the thin wand. Eddie smiles at his son and opens his own.
“How do we…” Eddie trails off, twisting the wand back and forth as if it’ll speak instructions to him.
Buck chuckles and grabs the wand. He sits himself down and leans into the mirror. “I’ll do mine so you guys can see how to do it.”
Buck hears Eddie make some strangled noise to the left of Buck, which the blonde elects to ignore.
He hums a sound of content as he touches the spoolie to his lashes. With a muscle memory that hasn’t been used since he was ten, back when Maddie let him practice with her makeup, Buck swipes the brown onto himself in a smooth motion.
“You gotta make sure you start as close to the root as you can,” Buck explains while he demonstrates, “Then slowly drag it up so it lifts the lash.” He finishes up the top layer and tucks his chin down. “And looking up makes it easier to get to the bottom lashes.” Buck flicks the wand over and over until he’s satisfied.
He smiles proudly in the mirror to himself and turns around, handing the wand back to Eddie. The man is sitting still, his lips parted and his eyes just noticeably wide. He flicks his eyes between Buck’s. There’s a tickle at the top of Buck’s spine as he’s the center of attention for Eddie’s deep brown eyes.
“Here,” he jostles the tube in his hand after Eddie’s features are still for a few more seconds, “Your guys’ turn.”
Buck looks over to the blonde teen who is grinning, eyes flicking between his dad and Buck. He grabs his own mascara, removes his glasses, and starts applying it.
Eddie snaps out of his haze at the plastic click of Christopher’s glasses being set on the table. He gingerly accepts the tube from Buck, dragging over the mirror Buck was using.
He studies how the two boys are doing. Christopher’s got the hang of it, he’s using a steady hand and he only has a couple small black dots on his skin. Eddie, however, is shaking. He attempts the first swipe and immediately runs the spoolie into his eyelid, painting the skin in dark pigment. Buck stifles his laugh and lets Eddie try again. The next swipe is somehow worse. The brown paint manages to make its way near Eddie’s eyebrow.
Buck sighs and pulls up a chair close to Eddie. He takes the narrowed spoolie from Eddie who looks at Buck with wide eyes. He holds the wand in one hand and tilts Eddie’s chin up with the other.
He sort of immediately regrets offering his help.
He’s normally entranced by Eddie’s big brown eyes and soft lashes, but being this close to them dries his throat. The flush of pink that spreads over the apples of Eddie’s cheeks certainly doesn’t help.
Buck swallows and nods to Eddie. “I’ll do yours.”
Buck lets go of Eddies’ chin, biting the inside of his cheek when Eddie keeps his head in position. The blonde licks his thumb and goes to swipe at the mess Eddie made on his eye.
The man swats at Buck and ducks his head.
Buck laughs and follows Eddie’s head as he dodges Buck.
“Ew,” Eddie exclaims, “Use a napkin!”
“Calm down you big baby,” Buck’s chuckles die down, “Just let me do it.”
“Let him help you,” Chris calls out.
Eddie juts his lower lip out, getting his face back in position. He pouts at Buck—and Buck doesn’t even notice it, really. He’s totally normal and fine and calm about it. He doesn’t even care that this beautiful man is less than a foot away, gazing up at Buck with his stupidly large eyes and rosy cheeks and even pinker pouty lips. It’s fine.
Buck clears his throat, swiping his thumb over Eddie’s eyelid. He smears the pigment off and wets his thumb again, cleaning it some more. Buck glances over to Chris and sees him nearly halfway done with the first eye.
“Stay still and keep your eyes open,” Buck whispers, holding Eddie’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.
The blonde brings the spoolie down, flicking it slowly over the already thick and long lashes. He bites his lip in focus and continues the motions, painting Eddie’s lashes in a chocolate pigment. The color darkens his lashes, framing his brown eyes nicely.
Eddie’s eyes twitch a little bit, but he stays still for the most part.
Buck gets to the bottom lashes, nudges Eddie’s chin down, and stutters out a cough when he sees those eyes looking up at him from below. He swipes and swipes the pigment.
When Buck deems he’s finished with the application, he pulls back and skips a breath at Eddie’s freshly painted eyes.
Buck hadn’t really been paying attention to how Eddie looked, he was too focused on applying it neatly so he didn’t accidentally stab Eddie in the eye.
If Buck was entranced by Eddie’s normal eyes without makeup, Buck can’t even begin to describe the shellshock of seeing those eyes coated in mascara. And Buck, stupid Buck, who can’t hide his feelings, utters out a soft “Eddie,” with an equally gentle smile on his face.
He hands Eddie the mirror to look.
The man looks in the mirror. He lets out something that’s not quite a gasp, but a stuttered breath of something—awe, shock, joy. Buck can’t pin what it is. He feels a similar expression in his own eyes, so Buck knows it’s a positive look.
Eddie’s eyes flit back and forth at the makeup. “Oh,” his voice cracks on the quiet murmur.
“Do you like it?”
“You look nice, Dad!”
“I—” He blinks, lashes shuddering, “I do.” He says it all breathy, full of wonder. Buck’s heart does a dumb somersault.
Christopher lets out a gleeful sound, “I love mine!”
Buck looks at Chris and gives him a high five across the table. He did great: mistakes barely in sight. The black contrasts well against his lighter eyes.
“That looks awesome!” Eddie says, proud of his son. He’s elated with it.
Chris makes his way out of the chair. “I got it on my hands, I’m gonna go wash them.”
Buck turns his attention back to Eddie as the teen leaves the kitchen.
“You okay?” Buck asks, a smile still stuck to his face.
Eddie blinks twice, darkened lashes slowly closing. “I’ll admit, I did this for selfish reasons too.”
Buck tilts his head, knowing what Eddie is likely getting at, but still giving him space to talk.
“Sophia and Adriana always wanted to do my makeup when they were younger,” a fond grin raises his cheeks, “But of course my folks never let them. I’ve always wondered what it’s like.” Buck places a hand over Eddie’s knee. He still hasn’t moved his chair back. “I remember watching my mom get ready a few times. It was fascinating to me how the makeup could transform her. Same thing when I was watching Shannon get ready for a party. It’s—” he chokes, “Pretty.”
Buck swipes his thumb over the rounded knob of Eddie’s knee, “You are pretty,” he affirms. Eddie looks up at Buck from under his lashes. “So, so pretty.”
Eddie flushes pink and leans in, squinting his eyes just barely enough to be playful, “What do you think about it?”
“You’re—” Buck has to bite his tongue to prevent him spilling his guts. He’s almost nauseous with how gorgeous Eddie is, staring up at him all pretty and wide. If Buck says anything about how he looks, it might come out as a proposal. “It’s nice that a straight guy can be so in touch with his masculinity,” Buck rambles, “I–It’s great. I mean,” He clears his throat, word vomiting, “Not many straight guys would be open to the idea of doing their makeup. Toxic masculinity and all that.”
Eddie blinks.
He keeps blinking.
Buck is kind of scared at the silent response.
“Buck,” it’s soft. Eddie covers Buck’s hand on his knee with his own—his big square palm enveloping Buck’s thinner fingers. “I’m gay.”
Now Buck is the one blinking.
“What?”
It’s not possible.
That and… They weren’t my type. Ana. His panic attacks. Michael having two kids before he came out. And he’s straight— Buck says, to which Buck’s ex scoffs. Maddie’s knowing eyebrow quirks.
It all spirals in Buck’s brain, clouding his mind in dizzying circles.
“I’m gay,” He repeats with a serious nod of his head.
And it makes sense.
“God Eddie,” Buck hangs his chin and shakes his head, “I’m sorry I said all that just now.”
Eddie giggles. He giggles without a care to Buck’s sanity.
“You didn’t know,” Eddie threads his fingers between Buck’s on his knee, “It’s okay.”
Christopher’s crutches tick on the tile. Eddie looks up at his son but doesn’t let go of Buck’s hand.
“Thanks guys,” Chris says, “I appreciate this.”
Eddie stands up and drags the teenager into a tight hug with one arm, still holding Buck’s hand held behind his back. Buck lets his arm be held in the air—a stupid action, but Eddie wants it.
“Of course Chris,” Eddie sighs into his son’s hair, pressing a soft kiss to the curls, “You can let me know whenever you want to do something like this, alright?”
Chris nods into Eddie’s chest, “I got it.”
Eddie kisses his hair again, letting out a comical mwah! before Christopher announces he’s going to wash his face then head to bed for the night.
Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand, still suspended in the air. “You’re an amazing father.”
Eddie turns around to look at Buck.
He uses his free hand to cup Buck’s jaw and drag him into a kiss.
And, frankly, Buck bluescreens. His mind goes fuzzy, the static of Eddie Eddie Eddie buzzing in his brain like a pinball ricocheting off of the metal siding—slamming against the machine until the pinball launches into the air, breaking the glass casing. It bursts his reality.
It’s one soft kiss before Eddie pulls back, looking down at a still seated Buck.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“Edd–” he cuts himself off to stand, surging up to meet Eddie’s lips again—drawn into his gravitational pull like a planet.
The man hums against Buck’s mouth, relaxing into Buck’s body. Buck loops his arm around Eddie’s little waist, pulling him in and pressing against him all over. He squeezes Eddie’s hand again. Buck moves his lips against Eddie and moves his arm, gripping Eddie’s waist before running his hand to his back, sneaking his hand under the back of Eddie’s shirt. To feel Eddie’s skin. To feel more alive with it. He makes a silent promise to himself to never stop touching Eddie’s skin for as long as the man will let him—which, he hopes, is forever.
Eddie pulls back with a wide smile stretched across his lips, his plush pink lips which Buck finally got to taste. His coated eyelashes frame his pupils, making the browns of his eyes look even bigger and deeper. Buck knows he could get addicted to studying the dilation of Eddie’s pupils when he looks at Buck.
“You are so—” Eddie ducks in for a quick kiss, “So important to me.”
“Eddie,” Buck says. He recognizes how pathetic his voice sounds. “I love you,” The blonde’s voice breaks against Eddie’s lips, “You’re the end for me. I hope you know that.”
In an impossible act, Eddie’s pupils grew even more, his eyes now blown nearly black with affection. “That’s nice, y’know,” Eddie’s hands move over his face, his thumb brushing the splotch of pink on Buck’s browbone, “Since I’m in love with you too. I want forever with you.” He whispers the last bit as if it’s something sacred. And, really, forever with Eddie Diaz is sacred.
A wet sound escapes Buck’s throat, “I hope you know what you’re asking for.”
“Mmm,” Eddie mumbles, leaning his body impossibly closer into Buck, “I do. I have a pretty good feeling we have the same definitions of forever.”
Eddie thumbs under Buck’s eye and pouts.
“What?”
Eddie flips his thumb to show Buck. A dark wet smudge sticks in the lines of his fingerprint. Buck didn’t even realize he'd been crying.
Buck giggles and ducks his head. “Wanna go wash this off?”
“Only if you promise to wear it more often,” Eddie smears the pigment on Buck’s chin when he tilts it back up, “You’re so damn pretty. Do you even know how blue your eyes are?” He says it so quietly, so reverently, it almost sounds like he’s speaking to himself.
Buck leans back in for another kiss. Since he can do that now—fully embrace his love for Eddie inside and out. “You don’t even know how much I was fighting myself not to kiss you when I was doing yours,” Buck’s gaze flickers back and forth between Eddie’s eyes, “If your eyes were any bigger you’d be classified as a cartoon. It would be on your birth certificate.”
Eddie throws his head back in a laugh. “C’mon,” he takes Buck’s hand and starts walking out of the kitchen, leading them towards the bathroom where Christopher kindly left the face wash on the sink for them.
“So can I paint your nails next?” Buck asks, rinsing the last of the soap off. “I’m thinking a dark green, maybe a light blue, or, oh! A white—”
And when Eddie cuts him off, their faces both dripping with residual water, making a mess on their shirts between them—Buck can’t help but smile into Eddie’s mouth.