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Summary
“You fucked him,” Buck says, easy as two plus two.
“I mean—” and Eddie cuts himself off immediately. He doesn’t know if correcting Buck and saying he fucked me is the best course of action at this point.
Buck stares, almost hopeful, as if expecting Eddie to follow it up with a negative on the accusation. I mean, that’s not what happened or, I mean, that’s clearly lotion on the bed, dumbass. Buck stares and stares, and the hope withers and dies, and he finally lets out a short, disbelieving laugh that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Jesus, Eddie. So what— what, you fuck men now? Were you even gonna tell me?”
Or, Eddie sleeps with the Boston firefighter, and Buck takes it about as well as you'd expect. What's a little roughhousing between friends, anyway?