Work Text:
The point of the Uber was to let both of them have a night off. Relax, knock back a few drinks with the rest of the 118 and not worry about who was playing designated driver for the evening.
The point of the Uber was to think a little less and do a little more. Buck doesn’t need the alcohol to quiet his brain (that’s what Wikipedia deep-dives are for), but it’s nice to fill a booth with his friends, the people he considers his family, and laugh until his stomach hurts.
Now it’s almost 2:00 a.m. and he and Eddie are stumbling up the path to Eddie’s front door, gigging and stinking of bar and sweat and happiness. He’s always happy when he’s with Eddie. He’s almost always happy when he’s with Eddie.
“You got the keys?” Eddie asks, slouching against the wall next to the door. His cheeks glow pink under the porch light.
“You have the keys,” Buck reminds him.
“No,” Eddie counters, lolling his head towards Buck. “You said you were bringing the keys.”
Buck frowns, squints, tries to remembers. “Why would I say that?” His pats his pockets. No keys.
“Because you said you were.”
Buck searches his back pockets. Nothing. And he didn’t bring a jacket. “I don’t have the keys. You must.”
Eddie sighs and roll his eyes, but checks his pockets anyway. Empty.
“Did you leave them at the bar?” Buck asks.
“No, I didn’t leave them at the bar, because you were supposed to bring them.” Eddie pushes off the wall and grabs the door knob. “Maybe we didn’t lock it?” He gives the knob a twist and a jiggle but it doesn’t open. Because it’s locked.
“So we’re locked out,” Buck states. He resists the urge to double check the door for himself.
“Astute observation.”
“And Chris is at that one kid’s house – the one with the mom who wants to sleep with you.”
Eddie’s face does something complicated. “Whatever.”
Buck claps his hands together and the sharp sound echoes down the quiet street. “Okay, I’m kicking the door in.”
“Buck!” Eddie exclaims, too loudly.
“What?” Buck doesn’t see the problem here. He’s broken in plenty of doors, although usually he has a halligan or a ram. Doors and door jams are replaceable – he even knows how to do it himself.
“We’re not kicking my door in.”
“You want to sleep on the porch?” Buck asks, hands on his hips now.
Eddie sighs and scrubs at his jaw. “I should have hidden a key in a rock.”
“That’s not safe,” Buck chides. “It’s basically an invitation to criminals that–”
“Okay, okay.” Eddie holds his hands up in defeat.
“I can go in a window,” Buck announces, the idea forming and taking shape in his beer-soaked brain. Eddie stares at him like he’s insane, which he might be.
“No,” Eddie states.
Buck shrugs him off and starts walking around the house, looking for the windows that open. “No, it’s fine. I’ve done it before.”
Eddie follows him. Their footsteps crunch across the dry grass. “You’ve broken into my house before?”
“Not yours. But I used to sneak back into my parents’ house through my bedroom window.” Buck pauses next to the first window he comes across, takes a look at it. “Your bedroom?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Locked.”
“Bathroom?”
Eddie considers. “Maybe?”
Buck makes his way around the house, brushing too-loudly past bushes and accidentally kicking a soccer ball Chris or Eddie must have left out one weekend.
The bathroom window is closed and Buck can’t tell if it’s locked or not. Buck runs his fingers along the edge of the frame, but there’s nothing to get a grip on. He plants his palms on the glass and pushes, trying to get leverage, but the window doesn’t budge.
“You gonna break the glass?” Eddie asks, that touch of snark in his voice that sometimes Buck loves and sometimes sets him on edge.
Suddenly, the too-familiar whoop of a squad car siren sounds on the street in front of the house and Buck freezes. He can see now the blue and red lights reflecting off the houses and the ground. He might actually be too drunk for this.
“Uh,” Buck starts.
“LAPD!” Comes a voice – a very, terribly familiar voice.
Athena Grant swaggers around the corner of the house, one hand aiming a flashlight, the other hand on her service weapon.
“Shit,” Buck whispers into the night.
“Hey, Athena,” Eddie greets wryly, holding both hands up politely.
It’s dark, but Buck can see the annoyance on Athena’s face clear as day. And maybe some fondness, if he squints.
“When this address came over the radio I thought it was a mistake,” Athena says, removing her hand from her weapon, but training the flashlight on Buck’s chest. “But here you are, breaking and entering.”
“In my defense,” Buck begins, “it’s our home.”
“My home,” Eddie corrects. Buck shoots him a look because okay, uncalled for. “Technically we can’t really be breaking and entering.”
“A neighbor called in suspicious activity,” Athena says.
“We got locked out,” Eddie says, while Buck adds:
“What neighbor?”
Athena just stares at them.
“Left the keys inside while we went out for drinks,” Buck adds. “Hen says hi, by the way.” She didn’t, but he figures it couldn’t hurt to say so.
“And you didn’t think to call a locksmith?” Athena questions.
Buck looks at Eddie. Eddie looks back at him. He really is very pretty, even drunk and locked out of his own house at two in the morning.
Athena looks at them both like she’s disappointed down in her soul to know either one of them. “Mhmm.”
Buck shoves his hands in his pockets and tries his best 'but I'm sort of your son, right' pout. "Could we get a ride to your place?"