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Thursday dance sessions have become somewhat of a habit for Eddie.
As Hen’s work husband, a title he takes very seriously, Eddie wants to help her in recovery.
When looking back on a dark time of his life, he remembers Father Brian’s words, “do something that expresses pure joy.” And well, he danced. Something he had avoided doing ever since he quit ballroom dancing, but he did it, and he felt alive. Why not spread that joy and introduce Hen to the art of samba?
And oh, did they have fun. Eddie almost wishes he got into a routine of dancing sooner. It’s like his brain just quiets down and his body takes control. The weekly sessions were not just to help Hen anymore, but also a way to help Eddie destress from the week.
Buck was eager to offer up his massive garden and cook them all dinner afterwards. While he experimented a little too far sometimes, Eddie couldn’t really complain. He looks forward to Thursdays now. A quiet evening with Chris, Hen and Buck.
So, he finds himself driving to Buck’s house, humming along to the radio, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. It was a long shift yesterday and Eddie still feels all antsy and wired from it.
It’s fine, Eddie thinks. Nothing a little samba can’t fix.
He’s 10 minutes away from Buck’s when Hen calls.
He presses accept, and Hen’s voice fills the car. “Hey Eddie, sorry for the short notice, I don’t think I can make it today.”
Oh. Eddie frowns. He’s thankful Hen can’t see him because it’s a little embarrassing. “That’s okay, is everything alright?”
“Yeah, yeah just feeling a bit tired. Going to take it easy today.”
It’s no secret that Hen is getting worse. It’s terrifying. He doesn’t push, maybe he’ll go visit her tomorrow just for a coffee. “No worries, get some rest.”
“Sorry again.” She says, before hanging up.
Buck opens the door before Eddie’s knuckle even reaches a second knock.
“Hey Eddie!” He beams, all toothy. He’s in a red sweater, which, now that Eddie thinks of it, Buck doesn’t wear red all that often, but he should, it looks great on him. That’s the other thing. While dancing brings him joy, so does spending time with Buck, and Eddie is not quite sure what to do with that feeling. “Come on in.”
“Hen can’t make it today,” Eddie says in the form of a greeting, entering the house.
Buck frowns too, “Oh, is everything alright?”
“She said she’s feeling a little tired.”
Buck nods, “The medication really isn’t working huh?”
“Recovery isn’t linear, you know that.”
“Yeah, but I hate seeing her like this.”
“She’ll get better, she’s strong,” he affirms.
“No Chris today either?”
“Video games with his friend trumps hanging out with us apparently.”
“You still down for dinner though? I can get us some beers. I mean I was going to make this low sodium cod but Hen’s not coming so maybe I could do a miso glaze or—”
Eddie doesn’t know what compels him but the words fall out of his mouth before he can catch them. “Can we dance?” He asks, softly, almost like a whisper. He really needs to dance. He feels restless. He’s worried about Hen, he’s worried about his feelings towards Buck, he’s pretty sure Chris made friends with the high school stoner so he’s worried about that, and on top of it all, his car is showing the check engine light so that’s just another thing on his plate. He needs to just put all his attention to dancing.
“What?”
“I mean,” he sputters. God, this is embarrassing. He is a fully grown man feeling like he’s on the brink of a panic attack if he doesn’t dance. “No it’s okay, um- miso cod sounds great.”
Buck cracks a small smile.“You want to dance?”
So he did hear him. Eddie scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I just…need to get some energy out and I found this new samba song so—”
Buck doesn’t look judgmental, he doesn’t laugh or look at Eddie like he’s weird, he just smiles bigger. “Yeah, let’s go to the garden.”
The thing with the dance sessions is that Buck would spend nearly the whole time in the kitchen. Occasionally sticking his head out with updates on when dinner will be ready. He wouldn’t ever linger or offer to join.
Eddie walks out into the garden, a beer in hand, because that did actually sound quite nice, and lightly stretches his arms and legs.
Buck sits down on one of the garden chairs.
“You need to stretch,” Eddie says, staring at Buck.
“I think I’ll just watch,” Buck replies, like it’s obvious, taking a long drag of his beer.
“The hell you will,” Eddie barks out a laugh. He’s not some showgirl. “Let me show you how to samba Buck.”
“You know me Eddie, no rhythm,” Buck shoots back.
He knows. God he watched in horror many times at Buck’s dancing. Most recently in the club, his absolute lack of rhythm made Eddie question how Buck ever gets asked out. He supposes it’s a bit endearing though. “That’s because no one ever taught you.”
“Hey I can’t be good at everything!”
Eddie sighs. He loves bickering with Buck, he could do it for hours normally, but right now, he really wants to dance. “I won’t judge you. It’s just a bit of fun.” He presses play on his phone, and the garden fills with percussion. He stretches out a hand to Buck. “Come on.”
Buck rolls his eyes but takes Eddie’s hand, standing up to join him. “Fine.” Eddie doesn’t think Buck has ever told him no.
“Just let your body follow the rhythm like this,” Eddie demonstrates a simple move, “step back one, take a small step forward on two and repeat on three, then do the same on the other leg.”
Buck makes an attempt. It’s all stiff and slow. Eddie has to bite back a laugh, he promised not to judge. It’s honestly quite adorable.
“Okay, close, you need to be more fluid with it, rock your hips a little and almost bounce,” Eddie repeats the move, adding in a little spin on the end, it’s the same move he taught Hen. “One, two, three”
“I’m trying.” Buck tries to copy Eddie, sticking his tongue out in concentration.
“Better!” Eddie smiles. “Just move your hips more.”
“I am!”
Eddie goes to put his hands on Buck’s hips, but freezes. Is this weird? He really needs to talk to Buck. He is 99% sure he has feelings for Buck and as much as he’s trying to avoid thinking about that, the problem is looming over him and making him rethink every move.
“You good?” Buck asks when Eddie’s hands are hovering for a prolonged period.
“Right sorry,” he grabs onto Buck’s hips, giving them a little shake, “Let me lead you. Move with me.”
Eddie pulls Buck in a little, “My hand is going to go over, we’ll do the same count again,” he instructs under his breath. Buck’s body goes rigid for a moment before he computes Eddie’s words and tries to move along to the music.
And well, Buck is much better with a dance partner. Eddie should’ve started with the partner stuff, really, they always work better together. He does manage to step on Eddie’s feet a few times but that’s mostly because he keeps looking down to make sure he’s doing the footwork right.
“Hey,” Eddie says in between the songs, “stop looking at your feet, look up at me.” It is partially because Buck kept tripping up, but also a little bit for selfish reasons, and dancing seems to make Eddie feel brave. “Let the music help you flow.”
“Alright um, it’s just a little warm,” he strips off his sweater to reveal a black tank top and Eddie’s breath hitches.
“Okay, better,” Buck adjusts himself back into place, grabbing Eddie’s hand. Maybe he regrets asking Buck to look at him because now Eddie is about 2 seconds away from his knees weakening him to the floor. It’s silly because he sees Buck shirtless all the time but something about Buck doing samba in a too-tight tank top where his forehead is slightly glistening with sweat while he’s staring right into Eddie’s eyes makes this dizzying feeling emerge, like Eddie is unsteady on his feet and the only thing keeping him standing right now is his hand in Buck’s.
“Okay this song’s a little faster, you think you can handle it?”
Buck raises his eyebrows, “lead the way Eddie.”
They manage to fall into a decent rhythm, Buck’s eyes transfixed onto Eddie’s face. He looks, well- he looks flushed. He keeps giggling and gripping onto Eddie’s hand more as the song continues.
Because dancing makes Eddie feel brave, he pulls Buck around to do a twirl and Buck laughs, loud and joyful. Eddie wants that sound on repeat, all the time, forevermore.
He goes a bit rogue and pulls Buck into an overly theatrical dip.
“Am I doing better?” Buck asks, softly, head still tilted back into the dip.
Eddie nods, pulling Buck back up. “You’re getting the hang of it.”
Enough time passes that the garden takes on a warm, golden glow as the sun sets. The air feels all buzzy. Whatever endorphins Eddie gets from dancing are on a 10x multiplier.
Buck’s birthmark a little red from exertion, he’s smiling so bright and looking at Eddie in a way Eddie’s not sure he deserves to be looked at. “You look very beautiful,” Eddie says softly, scared words too loud will break this moment.
Buck looks at him with wide eyes. And okay, They don’t normally call each other beautiful but it felt right in the moment. Buck’s all out of breath, panting softly. His mouth is only really a few inches away. Eddie could kiss him.
“I should get dinner started.” Buck abruptly says, his hands letting go of Eddie.
Eddie furrows his brows. Maybe he did read this all wrong.
Buck practically rushes into the kitchen and immediately begins taking out ingredients from his fridge in a panic. Eddie has seen this form of Buck many times. He gets worried and throws himself into a task.
“I can help chop,” Eddie offers.
Buck ignores him, clearly too focused on his task but Eddie can basically hear Buck’s brain, it’s loud and buzzing.
Eddie walks up closer to the kitchen counter and speaks a little louder, “Buck.”
He snaps out of his daze, “Sorry.”
“I can help chop,” Eddie repeats.
“Thanks,” Buck passes over an onion and then he’s back in his head, pulling out pots and pans way too loudly.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, tentatively.
“Yeah? Me? I’m fine. I had a great time! that was fun,” He rambles, chopping up a bell pepper like it personally offended him.
“You had fun?” Eddie says, in disbelief.
“More than I thought it would be. You’re um very good at that.” Eddie watches as Buck goes to cut with way more power than necessary and completely misses the last piece of pepper, nicking the side of his finger. “Ow shit shit—”
Eddie quickly goes into paramedic mode, it’s quite impressive really. “Put it under the tap,” he instructs, switching it on and then immediately taking out the first-aid kit from under Buck’s sink.
“I’m so stupid,” Buck complains, putting his finger in the water.
“Let me see,” Eddie takes Buck’s finger and presses it down with a tissue and watches as the blood seeps in. “It’s not too deep. We have to press down on it for a few minutes.” Eddie knows Buck is more than capable of taking care of a minor cut, but he feels partially at fault here for making Buck spiral. Buck deserves the truth, it’s just, Eddie doesn’t quite know how to tell him. But he’s scared that if he doesn’t Buck will fully malfunction. “I’ve never had a male dance partner before.”
“Is it different?” Buck asks.
“Yeah, I mean, I just never considered it before, a male partner that is.”
“Well you did ballroom dancing in Texas, I doubt they would have two boys on the stage together.”
God he’s really not getting this. Eddie needs to lay it on thick. “I think I prefer it. More chemistry and it feels a lot less like a performance and more of just a dance.”
Buck twists his face into a confused look, and then it shifts, like puzzle pieces falling into place. “You prefer it,” he repeats, pulling his finger out an inspecting it.
“I’ve thought for a while that I um- would enjoy it more, but I didn’t let myself.” He pulls out some antiseptic cream, avoiding eye contact with Buck.
“Why not?”
“I was scared. I didn’t know if it would change everything.”
“Change everything?”
Eddie puts a small bit of the cream onto Buck’s finger, and Buck lets out a soft hiss. “Okay, are you just going to repeat everything I say?”
“Eddie—” Buck freezes, “we’re not talking about dancing here are we?”
Eddie shakes his head. “No,” he mutters.
Buck looks like he’s malfunctioned. He processes, and processes, the kitchen silent and stiff. Finally, he looks Eddie in the eyes, “you’d rather have a male dance partner?”
“A specific one if I can, yeah.” Eddie wraps a small Band-Aid around Buck’s finger. “All better.”
Buck gasps. “Who?”
He’s so stupid. Eddie loves him. “One with two left feet and a surprising amount of charm.”
“You—you like me?” Buck cracks a small, shy smile, hopeful even.
“Was it not obvious?”
“Like-like me?”
“Yes Buck.”
“Oh my god,” he bursts out. “Eddie-Eddie I was dying out there trying to not melt into the ground while we danced. I needed to kiss you so bad I literally cut my finger!”
So, he wasn’t alone in that feeling. “Why don’t you?”
“I can?” Buck leans forward a few inches and lets the pad of his thumb brush over Eddie’s lower lip, like he’s in disbelief. It sends a tingle all the way down Eddie’s spine already. He parts his lips, taking in a shaky breath. “You’re sure?”
“Please.”
Buck practically dives into Eddie. He pushes him hard against the kitchen island, capturing his lips. The kiss is slow and sweet despite its intensity. Eddie’s hands find Buck’s hips again, gripping onto him as he deepens the kiss to keep some stability. Eddie pulls back slightly. He looks at Buck, his pupils all blown out, lips red and wet. Eddie presses deeper, eliciting a high-pitched and needy sound from Buck.
“Wait,” Buck pauses, “You have to kiss it better.” He smirks, pulling his finger up, “you did this to me Eddie Diaz.”
“I’ll make it up to you.” Eddie leans over, pressing a small kiss to Buck’s finger, then his cheek, then his temple and he doesn’t stop until Buck is bright red from giggling.