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"Mr. Buckley!" the fruit stall lady smiles warmly, setting down a basket of peaches. "I haven't seen you around in a while."
"It's been kind of a hectic few weeks," Buck says, picking up a carton of strawberries and examining them closely.
It's a sunny Thursday afternoon and Buck finally managed to get back out to his favourite farmer's market, the one around the corner from Eddie's place.
B shift's been short staffed, Matthews and Jenkins both out with broken legs after a structure collapse. A shift's been picking up extra time until they can find more permanent coverage, which meant no Thursday farmer's market for Buck. Until today.
Buck loves the farmer's market. He and Eddie usually go together. They have a whole system. Buck has the itemized list prepped and ready, but also the enthusiasm to find at least one new and interesting thing for them to try. Eddie is somehow a wizard at not only picking the best fruit, but also getting the best deals. Buck swears half the vendors are in love with him cause he doesn't even bargain, he just smiles and chats with them in that honest, open way of his and BOOM! 30% off smoked sausages.
Buck's not complaining—why would anyone complain about top-grade discount produce and smoked meats?—he's just saying. Pretty Privilege is real and alive a the West Wilmer Farmer's Market.
Eddie is on shift today though, which is why Buck is here, holding up a basket of strawberries to the sunlight, squinting at them suspiciously, trying to gauge if they'll die dramatically overnight or live to be the perfect topping for the strawberry shortcake he's planning on making tomorrow.
"Did Eddie send you to get the strawberries this week," fruit stall lady asks. Buck's usually better at names, but again, he's not usually in charge of fruit. Fruit is Eddie's domain. Eddie would probably know fruit stall lady's name.
"Uh, yeah. Our shifts have been a bit messed up lately." He puts the basket down. Those ones don't seem… red enough.
"Try these one's sweetheart." Fruit stall lady slides an overflowing basket of strawberries his way. She gives very strong cozy mom energy, especially with her round glasses, patchwork cardigan, and oversized handmade jewlery. "I set them aside for him this morning."
"Oh, thanks." Buck picks up the basket. It's full of the most strawberry-looking strawberries he's ever seen. "I'm actually grabbing two. One's for a cake."
"Eddie did mention you were a great baker."
"I don't know if I'd call myself great-"
"Oooh are we talking about Eddie?"
An older woman pokes her head in from the stall next door, long gray hair piled into a precarious bun on top of her head. The beekeeper, Mildred. Buck's had more than a few rambly conversations with her. He's got seven different kinds of honey from local flowers lined up in his kitchen, ready to be tried and rated so he can report back his preferences.
"Hey Mildred."
"Mr. Buckley," she smiles, tapping his arm affectionately as she ambles into the fruit stall.
"Just Buck is fine," he reminds her for the hundredth time.
For some reason everyone at the farmer's market calls him Mr. Buckley.
Buck hasn't a fucking clue why.
"Is Eddie with you?" Mildred asks expectantly, peering over his shoulder. She loves Eddie.
Everyone loves Eddie, but especially the middle-aged and senior farmer's market ladies. Buck's pretty sure it's cause Eddie's a shameless gossip.
Eddie's been coming to this farmer's market for a while actually. Way longer than Buck would have thought. He wouldn't have really pegged Eddie for a farmer's market kind of guy, but apparently he used to accompany his abuela when she started needing help carrying her groceries and then just, kept coming. A lot of the vendors know him by name.
"Not today, sorry."
"Shame," she sighs wistfully. "I wanted to tell him about the Roberto and Agnes development. I owe him twenty bucks." She shakes her head. "He called it. Roberto is a heartbreaker."
"Takes one to know one," fruit stall lady snorts.
"What's that mean?" asks Buck.
Mildred laughs, loud and bright. "The day that man walked into this market and we found out not only was he gay, but also married?! Darling, the collective snap of hearts breaking could be classified on the Richter scale."
Buck must not have heard that right.
"And he's so openly smitten about it too," exclaims fruit stall lady. "You can't even stew in your heartbreak because that boy's smile is so bright, it lights you up from the inside out."
Mildred nods. "Really makes you believe in true love. Like in the movies."
"He- what?" Buck is very confused. Last time he checked Eddie was painfully single. And also straight.
"No need to look so flustered deary." For some reason Mildred winks at him. "It's not like it was ever a secret."
"W-what was a secret?" Buck asks weakly.
"That Eddie loves his husband and talks about him all the time, to everyone," fruit stall lady supplies, ringing up his strawberries. "It's very sweet."
"He's a sweet boy," Mildred nods, shoving a jar of honey into Buck's hand. "I was sad to hear his abuela passed. You could tell how much he loved her."
"She always had the best gossip," adds fruit stall lady, grabbing Buck's credit card from his hand. He's sort of moving on autopilot, absolutely unmoored from the conversation currently happening around him. "It's nice to see her grandson carrying on that tradition."
"That and bringing his family around." Mildred turns to Buck. "How is Christopher these days?"
"He's- good?" What is happening?? "He's good. Great. Just aced his science exam."
"That's lovely to hear. He's a bright kid."
"Couldn't be anything but, with the dads he's got," fruit stall lady smiles wide, handing Buck his card back and a paper bag heavy with ripe strawberries.
Buck holds them both to his chest, feeling like he just got flash-banged.
"You have a lovely day Mr. Buckley," she says, turning to speak to another customer.
"And tell your boys we said hi," adds Mildred with a wry smile.
Buck walks out to his truck in a daze. He sets the strawberries on the passenger seat, slides into the driver's seat and just… sits there.
The farmer's market ladies think Eddie is gay. They think he's gay and married. H-how- why? Why would they think that? They said Eddie talks about his husband all the time. Which- Eddie doesn't have a husband! Buck would know if Eddie had a husband.
Wouldn't he?
"Eddie!" Buck barges into Eddie's house with his strawberries and honey and burning need to understand what the fuck just happened. "Why have you been telling everyone at the farmer's market you're gay and have a husband??!"
"Uh, cause I haven't?" Eddie says, looking confused, mug halfway to his mouth.
He's still in his work uniform. There's a half-eaten sandwich on the counter and the whole kitchen smells like coffee. He must have been really hungry if he didn't even get changed first. Buck makes a brief mental note to double the recipe he's got planned for dinner before refocusing on the matter at hand.
"Then why does everyone at the farmer's market think you're gay and happily married?" Buck exclaims. "Gayly!"
Eddie sets his coffee down. "They must be mixing me up with someone else."
"No, the fruit lady knows you by name."
"Oh yeah, Janice. She's a peach." He picks up his sandwich and Buck valiantly ignores how sad and bland it looks. "She always gives me a discount on strawberries cause she knows they're Chris's favourite."
"Well Janice thinks your gay," Buck huffs. "And married. To a man."
He drops the paper bag onto the counter before remembering it's full of delicate fruit. He peers inside, but the strawberries still look very strawberry-y.
"Why would she think that?" Eddie asks, clearly not taking this situation seriously enough. He takes a bite of his sad sandwich. Chews and swallows like nothing absolutely insane is going on. Like he isn't currently being accused by the whole West Wilmer Farmer's Market of being gay married.
"I don't know! That's why I'm asking you." Buck throws his hands up. "Do you have a secret husband you're not telling me about?"
"Buck, don't be ridiculous." Eddie levels him with an unimpressed stare. "Where would I hide a whole husband?"
"He could be small. Maybe you shove him in the closet whenever I come over. Which is kinda mean Eddie, why would you do that to your small husband??"
Instead of telling Buck he sounds insane, Eddie just hums and says, "No."
"No? What do you mean no?"
"If I had a husband, I don't think he'd be small." He takes another bite of his sandwich. Buck feels his sanity slip through his fingers.
"Why not?"
"Just doesn't feel like something I would do."
"Have a small husband?"
"Yeah."
"So you're opposed to the small part but not the husband part?"
Eddie pauses, mid-bite. He sets the sandwich down. "I mean, I've never really thought about it before."
"About… having a husband?"
Eddie shrugs. "Yeah."
"So if you did have a husband…"
"If I did have a husband it would obviously be you."
"Eddi- what?!"
Okay, this conversation has officially gone off the rails. This conversation is actively killing pedestrians. The police are giving chase. There are sirens and screaming and Buck can't tell if he's in the train or getting run over by it.
"I mean," Eddie continues, "we sort of do more married things than I ever did with my own wife and the mother of my child."
Run over. He's definitely getting run over. Eddie's driving the train—can you even drive trains??—doesn't matter, the point is Eddie's a lunatic. A lunatic repeatedly shooting Buck in the chest with a shotgun made of unhinged words.
"Eddie, what are you even saying right now?"
"Just that it's not that surprising the farmer's market people think you're my husband."
"Me?!??" He watches Eddie take a casual sip of his coffee, like he isn't actively committing murder right now. "I said they think you have a husband, not that I'm your husband!"
"Buck, come on." Eddie rolls his eyes. "They obviously think it's you. Literally who else would it be?"
Buck doesn't answer. He tries to, but all that comes out is a pathetic little wheeze.
"That's what I was saying." Eddie's still talking. Why is he still talking? What more could he possibly have to say?! "If I had a husband, it would obviously be you people would assume is said husband." He sets his mug down and levels the full, devastating force of those big brown eyes squarely on Buck. "I go to the farmer's market with you. I talk about the things Chris and I do with you. I pick up groceries for recipes I cook with you. It makes sense."
Buck feels like he just got pushed off a cliff. He can't find a single familiar thing to grab onto.
"Me… being your husband… makes sense..?"
"Yeah." Eddie says this with a tone that implies a duh tacked on to the end.
"Eddie," Buck says, trying to level his breathing, "you sound insane."
Eddie crosses his arms. "What, you think I'd be a bad husband to you?"
"That's- that's not what I said!!?"
"Okay, so what's so insane?"
"We- you're- Eddie, you're killing me here."
"Just say you don't want me to be your husband Buck, it's fine," he huffs. It's not fine. His tone is very much saying this is not fine, I am actively displeased and about to make you very aware of this.
"Oh my god why are you- Are you doing this on purpose??"
"I'm not doing anything!" Eddie exclaims, gesturing at Buck with his hands. Oh great, now he's gesturing. That's not a good sign. "You're the one who barged in here and accused me of being a bad husband!"
"That's not what happened!"
"Okay, so what did happen?"
"I don't know!" Buck pleads, throwing his hands up in surrender and backing up til he hits the fridge. "I literally don't know what's happening right now! I just went to go buy fruit and then suddenly I'm finding out you're gay and married and then you're telling me if you were gay and married you'd obviously be gay married to me and now you're mad at me cause- cause we aren't actually married??? Is that- is that what's happening right now?"
Buck stares at Eddie, hands still raised. Eddie stares at Buck, displeasure slipping from his features into contemplation. His shoulders droop, his arms fall limply to his sides.
"Huh," he says.
"Huh?? Huh what?!?!"
His eyes dance across Buck's face, gaze so intense and searching Buck feels it as actual heat against his skin. "I think…" His eyes drop, giving Buck's whole body an appraising once-over. "Hmm."
"Eddie-"
"Hold on," Eddie says before taking two steps forward, right into Buck's space.
Before Buck can ask him what he's doing, Eddie's hand his on his jaw, tilting Buck's head down, holding him in place. Then he kisses him, slow and gentle.
Buck's body buffers a split-second before springing into action, eager and electric. His hands abandon their neutral post in the air to wrap firmly around Eddie's back, pulling him in close, pressing their chests together. God Eddie's hot, like yes sexy hot but also literally hot. His fingertips are brands against Buck's jaw, wrapped around the back of Buck's neck where they squeeze once, firm and possessive.
Buck tilts his head, curls further into Eddie's space to deepen the kiss and is rewarded with Eddie's breathy little sigh exhaled hot into Buck's open mouth.
Buck's just about to shove his tongue as far down Eddie's throat as he can manage when Eddie pulls away.
"Oh," Eddie says, gaze bouncing quickly between Buck's eyes.
The reality of the situation slams into him.
He just kissed his best friend. He just kissed Eddie. He was gonna- he was gonna make out hard with Eddie right here against Eddie's fridge. His hand is currently slipped just under the waistband of Eddie's work slacks, right above his ass. Oh god.
They're both just standing there, completely immobile, still very much pressed chest to chest and breathing damningly hard. Eddie's hands are absolutely searing, still gripping at Buck's neck and jaw like he's afraid to let go.
"Oh?" Buck asks weakly.
Eddie's still staring at him, that contemplative crease between his browns deepening before his whole face softens. Buck feels the shift in his body too, a loosening, a tightly held thing finally settling.
"Mhm."
"Eddie please say more than two syllables in a row I'm freaking out."
"I'm gay."
Oh.
Oh- that's-
"Th-that's still only two syllables."
Eddie laughs, bright and surprised, and Buck feels the warmth of it ghost across his jaw.
"Okay, how about this," Eddie grins, hands moving to frame Buck's face, whole body shifting to push Buck more firmly up against the fridge. His lips graze the shell of Buck's ear. "I want everyone at the farmer's market to keep thinking you're my husband."
Then he's kissing Buck again, more insistent this time, mouth open, hot and wet and fuck yes, Buck is more than eager to meet him there, to shove his hand further down the back of Eddie's pants and pull them as close together as he can get, feel the hot, hard expanse of Eddie's body pressing into him, thigh to chest.
A loud clattering startles them apart. Half the fridge magnets bounce across the kitchen floor, a handful of photos and loose receipts fluttering about until settling against the tile.
"Whoops," Buck says, absolutely not sorry at all.
"This is probably not a kitchen appropriate activity," Eddie says, stepping out of Buck's arms and straightening his uniform as if he's about to walk back into the firehouse.
He circles back to his abandoned coffee and sandwich. Buck follows uncertainly.
"You know," Eddie says, leaning back against the counter, coffee mug in one hand. "I'd never considered having a husband before."
He takes a sip. Buck hovers at the edge of his space, not quite sure where they stand, what he's allowed to do. His heart is making a valiant effort to crawl up his throat and strangle him form the inside. Then Eddie grabs his hand and tugs him close, close enough that Buck has to catch himself on the counter by Eddie's hip, has to widen his stance so Eddie's legs fit between his, and everything in him loosens.
"Then you marched in here," Eddie continues, brow cocked, "and accused me of having a secret husband, and my first thought wasn't well that's impossible, I'm straight, it was that's impossible, I could never keep you a secret."
Heat floods Buck, from his gut to his fingertips, all the way to the tops of his ears. It's been maybe three whole minutes and Eddie's already got him full-body blushing.
"I m-mean, you sorta didn't." He flashes Eddie his brightest, most cocksure grin, desperate to even the playing field. "Apparently you talk about your husband all the time at the farmer's market."
Eddie takes another quiet sip of coffee. "Yeah. I do do that."
"Apparently you talk about your husband with so much adoration," Buck leans close, "you've convinced scores of middle-aged women true love is real after all."
"Okay," Eddie huffs, shoving back him lightly. "That's enough of that."
Buck waggles his eyebrows. "Do you swoon about your husband to the barista at Costa Roasters every morning?"
"Buck."
"Does your mechanic know how happily married and gay you are?"
"Buck."
"Is the IRS gonna come after your for tax fraud cause you've been checking off single on your tax forms even though you're obviously head over heels for your not-small husband? Does-"
Eddie kisses him, a press of coffee-flavoured lips to his, gentle and sure and quick, but it's enough for Buck to lose his train of thought.
"Hey! You can't just kiss me every time you want me to shut up!"
"Can't I?" Eddie smirks, then kisses him again. "It seems to be working well so far."
"Oh my god wait what are we gonna tell Mildred and Janice?" Buck exclaims, gaze catching on the bag of strawberries behind Eddie. "They think we're married!"
Eddie shrugs easily. "I don't see why we need to correct them."
"Eddie, we very much are not married."
Eddie runs his free hand up Buck's chest, voice dropping low. "Do you want to be?"
It hits like a fucking punch to the gut, knocking all the wind and reason out of him.
"Eddie- Eds- Eddie," Buck whines, closing his eyes briefly against the diabolical way Eddie is looking up at him right now. "I love you but if you propose to me three minutes after our first kiss, I might actually die on the spot."
"Good think I'm a paramedic." Eddie winks. He fucking winks!!
This is unfair. This is rigged. This is the single best day of Buck's life.
"O-okay, since when do you know how to flirt??"
"Since I realized I didn't have to do it with women," Eddie smiles, pressing a kiss to the underside of Buck's jaw. Oh Buck is so fucked actually. "So… You love me, huh?
"I-" Buck replays his own words from two seconds ago, "oh shit."
Eddie laughs at whatever horrified face Buck is making, finally setting his coffee mug aside to wrap both arms around Buck's torso.
"Hey, Buck," he says, voice so full of fondness Buck can't help but meet his gaze, search out as much proof he can get his hands on that the man speaking his name like it's the most unbelievably valuable thing in the world is in fact real. "I love you too," Eddie says, sure and simple. "I always have."
Buck lets out a long, slow breath.
"You're gonna tell everyone at the farmer's market about this, aren't you?"
"Oh absolutely."