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Buck would rather stab himself in the neck with a fork, thrice, than let Maddie and Eddie say a single word to each other.
So you can understand, perhaps, why he’s on the verge of cardiac arrest at the sight in front of him: Maddie’s Find My Friends dot, and Eddie’s Find My Friends dot, are mingling. They’re right on top of each other. They’re locked in a Find My Friends embrace.
Buck is looking right at it, right in front of him, on this tiny screen, and it’s a fucking nightmare. It’s a nightmare come to life.
And it doesn’t make any sense. It makes no sense at all. Because, since the very moment they met, unbeknownst to either of them, Buck has been acting as a human zap collar. If Maddie and Eddie so much as look at each other, he’s been spraying them with water like misbehaving cats.
Metaphorically.
For the greater good.
1. The First Time
Okay, so Buck does not want his sister to date his new best friend. Sue him!
It is a slippery, slippery slope from “Eddie, meet my sister, Maddie,” to buying them a joint couples' Christmas gift. A slippery, slippery slope.
They’re both single and new to town — also known as a recipe for fucking disaster for Buck, personally. It makes him feel really very inexplicably physically ill. Eddie can’t be his brother-in-law. Eddie is his best friend.
His beautiful, ethereal sister can date anyone else — anyone else in the entire state. Just not Eddie. Eddie is Buck’s. Maddie isn’t allowed to steal Buck’s Eddie.
And he may be getting ahead of himself, because up to this fateful, fateful point, Maddie and Eddie have never even met.
And then the text comes through.
Buck has no choice but to meddle. To hatch a plan. To climb atop his watchtower and take what will become his decade-long post.
Maddie: Morning! Do you think Eddie would be free on Saturday?
Can you imagine more horrifying words to see with your own two eyes? Buck blinks, but the words don’t change. He fucking knew it. He knew it. They’re going to fall in love, and have the world’s most beautiful babies — triplets, probably, and adopt a puppy, and leave Buck alone, withering in the glow of their love.
He’ll pretend to be happy for them, of course, but it will be the end of the world as he knows it. Maddie will finally get the wedding she wanted — Buck will wear the cerulean tie that matches his eyes, and Christopher will be the cutest best man anyone has ever seen.
It will be perfect, and absolutely terrible.
Buck: I can ask. Why?
Maddie: So he can use his big, strong muscles to help you use your big, strong muscles to move my couch into my apartment :)
Oh my god. Saturday is moving day. Buck forgot that Saturday is moving day!
He can work with this. This is fine. They just - - they need a buffer! Sparks can’t fly when there’s a buffer. And Buck knows the perfect buffer.
Buck: I’ll ask 💪
Maddie: I’ll shout pizza 🍕
Buck shoots a message off to Eddie, asking if he’s around on Saturday, and another one to Chimney. He waits for both of them to confirm before replying to Maddie.
Buck: Eddie is in. I asked Chim too.
Maddie: The more muscles the better 👍
2. The BBQ
The problem with BBQs is that they’re rife with opportunities for connection. Somewhere between the potato salad and the pork chops, Maddie could lock eyes with Eddie, and they could talk. To each other.
And fuck him, does the 118 host a lot of BBQs. Experience a life milestone? You get a BBQ! Nearly die? You get a BBQ! Come back to work after nearly dying? Congratulations, BBQ! Come claim your free glass of lemonade!
The concern that Maddie and Eddie will fall madly in love with each other is a long-distant memory at this point — Maddie and Chimney are basically soulmates. He really could not be less worried about that. He chose the world’s best bang-for-your-buck buffer. His concern now is that they will become friends. Allies. Allies United Against Buck. Comrades Who Know Too Much About Buck. A terrifying, powerful joint force that simply cannot ever exist.
As such, Buck has not relaxed at a BBQ since 2018. This one is no exception.
“Buck!” A little voice gasps from across the yard. It’s his favorite voice in the world — he loves that voice more than life itself. That is a true, accurate fact. It’s also a fact that, at this very moment, that little voice strikes fear into his heart. Because where there’s his most beloved Christopher, close behind him there is an Eddie.
He looks up to find Christopher beelining toward him, a giant smile on his adorable face.
“Hey, buddy!” Buck grins. He visually sweeps the garden — Maddie is at his 6 o’clock, Eddie is heading in from his 12.
Christopher barrels into his legs, crutches and all. “I missed you!” He says, endearingly sincere in the way only a child can be, even though they saw each other two days ago.
It’s this sincerity that distracts him — a weapon in the cutest little hands. He crouches down to Christopher’s level.
“No way,” Buck gasps playfully. “Guess what?”
“What?” Christopher grins.
Buck leans in close, like it’s a secret. Christopher moves in closer, too. “I missed you, too,” he whispers.
Christopher giggles, wobbling a little on his crutches. “Buck!” He says again, in the same utterly delighted tone that feels like pure dopamine through Buck’s veins. “I’m going to be a paleontology! They find dinosaurs! We learned about it at school today!”
“Whoa,” Buck gasps. “That’s so cool. I think if you do paleontology, it makes you,” he says, pointing at Christopher. “A paleontologist.”
“A pa-le-on-tol-o-gist!” Christopher repeats slowly. “That’s what I’m gonna be!”
And then Buck makes a second fatal error. He says, “Tell me what else you learned about dinosaurs!”
And Christopher does. He learned so much about dinosaurs. And Buck loves dinosaurs.
But if Christopher is a paleontologist, and Buck is having the time of his life listening to his dinosaur facts, who the fuck is flying the plane?
He looks up, and, oh no. Oh fuck. Leaning against the dessert table, right next to the tiramisu, is Eddie. Eddie is laughing. Eddie is throwing-his-head-back laughing. Eddie is throwing-his-head-back laughing at something Maddie said. Because Eddie is talking to Maddie. Unattended. Without a chaperone. With absolutely zero buffers.
This plane has taken a sharp nosedive. This plane is going down.
Buck blinks. He looks at Christopher. He scoops him up mid-sentence, throws him over his shoulder, and jogs toward the crashsite.
“Buck!” Christopher giggles. “Where are we going?”
“We have to - -” He tries. “We have to tell Maddie about the dinosaurs. She loves dinosaurs.”
Maddie sees them coming first, smiling at Christopher giggling over Buck’s shoulder. She says something to Eddie, who also turns to look at them — his confused expression softening as he takes in the sight of them.
Whatever it is about the Diaz boys that can melt Buck with one look must be genetic. They look at him with those eyes, or smile at him with that smile, and Buck is bewitched.
“Uh. Hey,” he offers, saddling up beside them, casual, a still-giggling child over his shoulder.
“Hi,” Maddie smiles. “I think there’s something on your shoulder.”
Christopher giggles.
Eddie frowns, humming. “Oh, yeah,” he agrees, tickling Christopher’s back. “Looks like you’ve got a scallywag on your shirt.”
“I’m not a scallywag!” Christopher insists. “I’m a paleontologist!”
Buck probably shouldn’t be throwing paleontologists over his shoulder mid-sentence, but deperate times call for desperate measures. He lowers Christopher from over his shoulder, setting him back onto the ground. Instead of shifting closer to Eddie, Christopher leans back against Buck’s legs, looking up at Maddie.
“Buck said you like dinosaurs,” he says. “Do you like dinosaurs?”
Maddie flicks a glance at Buck. Maddie suffered through Buck’s dinosaur phase. He used to name as many as he could on the way to school until she got so sick of hearing about dinosaurs that she banned them from the car. “I think dinosaurs are pretty cool,” she lies.
“Do you want to hear what I learned about dinosaurs at school?”
Maddie opens her mouth, but Christopher continues. “I learned a lot about dinosaurs at school.”
“Did you know,” Maddie whispers conspiratorially, “that Buck used to be able to name one hundred dinosaurs when he was a kid?”
Christopher gasps. “One hundred?”
Eddie chuckles. “Of course you could.”
Christopher snaps all of his attention to Buck. “Why didn’t you become a paleontologist when you grew up?” He demands. “If you knew all the dinosaurs?”
Buck hums. “I didn’t eat my vegetables,” he decides.
“More like you didn’t do your homework,” Maddie snorts.
“Oh,” Christopher frowns. “Dad, are there vegetables for lunch?”
Eddie bites down on a chuckle. “I’m sure there are vegetables, bud.”
“I have to eat lots of vegetables.”
Buck can work with vegetables. And, really, if anything, he’s being helpful. Eddie loves it when his kid eats his vegetables! And vegetables are so good for a growing child! Buck is just being altruistic!
“You know,” Buck tries, “there’s no time like the present. I think I saw a carrot over there. Eddie, you should probably - -” He says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Y’know. Make sure your kid gets his veggies in. For the dinosaurs.”
Eddie raises a brow at him. “For the dinosaurs?” He repeats.
“Yeah, Dad!” Christopher nods. “For the dinosaurs! Come on! Come on!” He insists, grabbing the hem of Eddie’s shirt and pulling.
“Okay, okay,” Eddie concedes, going where he’s dragged as Christopher heads for the veggie platter.
There’s a safety zone — a distance between them — that Buck really very strongly prefers Eddie and Maddie keep. As he watches Eddie retreat away from Level Critical, he lets out a breath.
When he turns back to Maddie, she is looking at him.
“What?” He asks. “Carrots are good for you.”
“Mhm,” she hums. “You’re good with him.”
Buck shrugs. “Yeah. He’s the best.”
“I didn’t realize how close you were.”
He blushes. “He’s - - yeah. He’s Eddie’s kid. We hang out all the time.”
“Mhm,” she hums again. “It’s cute.”
He scoffs. “It’s - - it’s normal,” he insists. “It’s - - regular.”
“Your birthmark is blushing.”
“It’s not.”
“You can’t even see it.”
“I don’t blush about Eddie.”
Maddie scoffs.
“Can you stop?”
She shrugs. “He’s a cute single dad with an eight-pack. It’s not illegal to blush.”
“For the hundredth time, I do not have a boy crush on Eddie,” he whispers.
“Okay. You should tell that to your blushing birthmark.”
Buck glares. “I’m going to eat the entire peach cobbler so you can’t have any.”
Maddie gasps. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Bobby bought the peaches from a farmstand. He used homemade butter.”
“Evan Buckley. You are playing dirty.”
“There’s ice cream, too. The good one. I’ll eat all of it.”
“Fine,” Maddie sighs. “You don’t have a boy crush on Eddie. Leave the innocent peach cobbler out of this.”
3. The Hospital
Hospitals are always the worst. For a number of reasons, but specifically because, often, they give Eddie and Maddie a reason to be in the same place at the same time.
Even worse, sometimes Buck is unconscious while it happens.
Sometimes Buck gets struck by lightning, leaving critical vulnerabilities in his carefully crafted plan.
And sure, he almost died, and everything hurts and all that, but have you considered that Maddie and Eddie probably talked to each other? While Buck was in a coma? And he has no way to know what they said? It’s terrible. He’s fucked.
He’s so fucked, but he’s also so tired. Turns out getting struck by lightning and almost dying really takes it out of you
But it could be worse, because Eddie is here. Buck likes it when Eddie is here. He doesn’t have to worry about anything when Eddie is here. He also never gets bored, because nothing is ever boring with Eddie. Eddie is currently conducting an audit on the gifts scattered around the hospital room, delivering a running commentary as he goes.
“Who sent you the balloons?” Eddie asks, batting at the balloon bouquet.
“The Lees, I think,” Buck says. He can’t really remember. He’s received so many gifts, and flowers, and fruit baskets, and other miscellaneous things that fill every space in the once-pristine room.
He keeps the most special ones right beside his hospital bed — the sunflowers from Eddie and Chris, and the tulips from Maddie. Right where he can reach it is Christopher’s handmade card with a drawing of a racecar that says “wishing you a speedy recovery” in Eddie’s handwriting. Christopher told him he picked the racecar because he learned about palindromes while Buck was in a coma, and he’d thought Buck would think that they’re cool. Buck does think it’s cool. He’s going to keep it forever, in his box with all of Christopher’s other masterpieces.
Eddie pokes at the newest plastic-covered fruit basket. “You’ve got a pineapple,” he says.
“You can have it,” Buck says. “Take it home for Chris.”
“Chris loves pineapple,” Eddie says, soft.
Buck rolls his eyes. “I know. That’s why you should take it.”
“Alright,” he agrees. “I’ll take your pineapple.”
Buck smiles, letting his eyes fall closed as Eddie continues inspecting his gifts.
“Why would you send an injured person a get-well-soon mug? What are you going to do with a get-well-soon mug? No one needs more mugs. We all have too many mugs.”
Buck hums in agreement.
“You know what, though, I could go for a coffee.”
“I hear the coffee shop down the street is the way to go,” Buck offers. The reviews of the cafeteria have not been so kind.
Eddie snaps his fingers. “Coffee shop it is. You want anything sans-caffeine?”
“Mm,” Buck hums, considering. “Surprise me.”
He hears Eddie chuckle. “Alright. I’ll be back in a bit. Text me if you need anything.”
Buck thinks he nods, but he’s not sure. He hears the door open and close, and at some point, he must doze off, because he wakes up to the door opening again.
He stretches a little, forgetting that everything hurts, and opens his eyes to…Maddie??
“Mads?” He frowns, sitting up. “What are you doing here?”
She snorts. “Nice to see you, too, baby brother. How are you feeling?”
“You said you were coming this afternoon.” She said she was coming this afternoon. In the afternoon. When Eddie wasn’t here.
She looks around the empty room. “Am I interrupting your alone time with your fruit baskets?”
“No, I - - just thought that’s what you said.”
She shakes her head, amused. “I did, but Chim is home with Jee today, so I thought I’d bring you some entertainment. I have the boring history books you like, a mystery the man at the library recommended, a vampire romance — so you have options,” she explains, plonking them on the bed. “And a teddy from Jee. It’s her third favorite one, so don’t lose it.”
Buck doesn’t even know how long Eddie’s been gone. He could be back any second.
“I, uh - -” He stammers. “Thanks. Thank you. Hey, uh, since you’re here. Could you - - I’m really craving a smoothie.”
“Sure,” she smiles. “I can do that. I think the coffee shop - -”
“No!” He says a little too loudly. “From - - from the cafeteria. Please.”
She makes a face, and it’s a valid face, because Buck has had a smoothie from the cafeteria. Desperate times, desperate measures.
“Okay. Banana?”
“Banana,” he confirms.
“Alright. Don’t go anywhere,” she jokes.
She exits his room and turns right, toward the hallway to the elevator closest to the cafeteria. As she disappears out of sight, the elevator to the left of his room dings, opens, and out walks Eddie.
Jesus fucking christ.
“I got you a smoothie!” Eddie announces, holding up a smoothie. “Banana. Your favorite. With added protein. I double-checked there’s no caffeine.”
What are the fucking chances?
“T-thanks,” he says, acting natural. He’s acting so natural and normal. He shoves the straw in his mouth and gulps down the smoothie.
“Course, man,” Eddie smiles. He blinks down at the bed. “You been reading?” He asks, picking up one of the history books Maddie left there. “Did I tell you that Christopher’s new thing is the Titanic?”
“The movie or the ship?”
“The sinking of the ship.”
“Mm,” Buck hums. “At least he’s moved on from tsunamis.”
“I’d love it if we could move on from devastating ocean-based events as a whole,” Eddie notes. “But you know how he is when he’s into something.”
Buck does know. Unlike Buck’s childhood self, who had the attention span of a squirrel, Christopher deepdives into his interests, exploring every rabbit hole he comes across in detail. “Maybe he’ll branch out into land-based disasters next.”
Eddie snorts. “We can only hope.”
“Y’know,” Buck starts. “I was thinking. I think this room is - - missing…a plant.”
Eddie frowns. He turns and takes in the countless bouquets. “Are flowers not plants?”
“You know what I mean. A real plant. One that’s not going to die. I think it’s - - it’s the wrong energy. For a place of healing.”
“Your…flowers…have the wrong energy?”
Buck nods. “Yes. I think I need a plant. In a pot. Maybe a ficus.”
“A ficus.”
“Don’t you think?”
“Uh. Sure. Yeah. I guess.”
Buck smiles. “Could you see if you could find one?’
Eddie blinks. “A ficus?”
“Yes.”
“Now?”
“If you’re not doing anything else.”
Eddie frowns. “Okay. I mean - - I can try.”
“Thank you.”
Eddie frowns at him one more time, then turns to leave. To find Buck a fucking ficus. Because he’s the best friend in the world.
“Wait!” Buck gasps. He slurps down the rest of his smoothie way too fast; it is too much smoothie. He hands the empty cup to Eddie. “Can you throw that in the trash for me, please?”
Eddie blinks. He takes the cup. “Sure.”
Buck watches as he catapults the cup toward the trash — perfect aim as always. It would be hot if Buck wasn’t straight.
“Ficus?” Eddie confirms, paused at the doorway.
“Ficus,” Buck nods, because he’s a terrible friend and a bad brother.
Eddie shrugs, exits the room, and turns left. As the elevator doors close on his view of Eddie, Maddie rushes in from the right.
“Okay!” She announces. “One incredibly watery banana smoothie from a very rude lady in the cafeteria. It’s kind of…green? For some reason?” She explains, holding out what he would otherwise assume is a green juice.
He takes it and does not gag. “Thanks.”
“I tried to get a coffee, but when I asked for oat milk, she thought I said goat milk, and I didn’t want to risk it.”
Buck snorts. “Good call.”
He looks at the smoothie. He works himself up to it. He takes a sip.
Maddie winces. “How is it?”
He hums, forces himself to swallow. Chunks of something get stuck in his teeth. “Fruity.”
She makes a face that implies she does not believe him, and she would be right.
“Did I tell you that Jee can name fruits now?”
“Yeah?” He smiles. “She’s so smart. Takes after her uncle.”
Maddie snorts. “That’s what Albert said.”
Buck huffs. “Albert didn’t get struck by lightning, so I think we can all agree that Uncle Buck is the coolest uncle.”
“I’d argue that Uncle Albert not getting struck by lightning might make him the smarter uncle.”
Buck gapes. “You take that back.”
Maddie sighs fondly. “She gave you her third favorite teddy,” she reminds him, picking up the teddy and waving it at him. “She wouldn’t give him to just anyone.”
Buck sighs. He takes the teddy and holds it to his chest protectively. “Is this Pearl?”
“That’s Pretzel,” she says. “Pearl is currently teddy #1. She would never agree to a joint custody agreement with Pearl.”
He nods seriously. “Of course.”
“Let me get a photo of you with Pretzel,” Maddie says. “I’ll show Jee when I get home.”
Buck does as he’s told and poses with Pretzel. “Tell her she’s my favorite niece in the whole world and I will cherish Pretzel with all my heart.”
Maddie smiles. “I’ll tell her. Or you can tell her yourself. She’ll want to call you to say goodnight.”
It’s become his favorite part of the day, most days, getting to hear his angel niece’s voice. “Can’t wait,” he grins. He reaches for his phone on instinct, and as he reaches for it, it buzzes in his hand.
Oh.
Oh no.
He has eight texts from Eddie.
Eddie:
The lady at the plant store says she doesn’t think the ficus plants will like the hospital lighting
Are you set on a ficus?
She says they don’t like being moved
Or the cold
I told her you said you wanted a ficus
I’m gonna get the ficus
Ok I got the ficus
Against professional advice
Oh god. Oh no. Eddie is coming back. With a plant. With a professionally ill-advised ficus plant.
“Maddie,” he says, in a tone that must convey the gravity of the situation, because it immediately gets her attention.
“...yeah?”
“I - - need toast.”
She blinks at him. “You need toast?”
“Yes. To eat.”
“You haven’t finished your smoothie.”
He nods. “I am… ravenous.”
She frowns. “And you want…toast? Won’t they bring your lunch soon?”
He swallows. He winces. “I just - - sometimes I feel a little nauseous? And bread helps. Toasted bread.”
She frowns deeper, concerned. “Oh, okay. Yeah. Did you tell your nurses about the nausea?”
He nods. “They said…toast. Toast is good.”
“Okay. I will - - toast. And maybe find one of your nurses.”
Buck nods. He can deal with any toast-related fallout later. Eddie is coming back. Eddie is going to be here any second.
Maddie, thank fuck, turns right again, disappearing down the hallway. Not even 30 seconds later, the elevator dings. Out steps Eddie. With a plant.
“A ficus!” Eddie announces, very pleased with himself, gesturing at the plant. “You like it?”
Buck looks at the plant. He feels bad for the plant. He did not intend to rope an innocent plant into this. Buck is not in any way equipped to keep this plant alive, but, nevertheless, he does like it. He likes it a lot — especially because Eddie picked it for him.
“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he smiles softly. “Thanks for getting it.”
“The lady really did not want to give it to me,” Eddie notes.
Buck snorts. The plant lady has incredible instincts.
“You have a teddy,” Eddie smiles, pointing at Jee’s teddy Buck forgot he was still hugging to his chest.
“Oh. Yeah. This is Pretzel. Jee’s third favorite teddy.”
Eddie whistles. “Wow. Third favorite is serious business. What’d you do? Get struck by lightning or something?”
Buck laughs, but he doesn’t have time for fun and games right now. Toast is fast. Toast is fleeting. Toast is ephemeral; it’s evanescent.
Eddie has got to go.
“Whatcha getting up to this afternoon?” Buck asks. “Fun plans?”
Eddie shrugs. “Nope. Day off. Don’t have anything until school pickup.”
Fuck.
Buck has - - oh no. Oh no. Buck has no time. Buck is out of time. He looks behind Eddie and spots Maddie through the glass, chasing down a nurse, a plate of toast in her hand.
“Look!” Buck gasps, pointing in the other direction — out the window. “A bird!”
Eddie turns toward the window, stepping closer to see out of it. “Oh yeah? Was it a cool one?”
“Um. Yeah. I think so. All birds are pretty cool if you think about it. Little dinosaurs.”
With Eddie still looking out the window, Buck risks a glance out toward the nurses’ bay. Blessedly, Maddie has cornered a nurse in the other direction, looking away from Buck’s room.
“Um,” Buck blinks. “I have a bad tummy.”
Eddie frowns. “It wasn’t the smoothie, was it?”
“I don’t think so,” he says. “But you probably don’t want to be here for this.”
Eddie winces. “Bad, huh?”
Buck nods. “Yep.”
Eddie sighs, like he’s genuinely disappointed at the thought of leaving the hospital. “Alright. Fine. The scary plant lady said not to over or under water your plant if you want it to not die, which was the whole point, so probably try to do that.”
Buck nods. “Got it. And don’t forget the pineapple!” He reminds him, right as Maddie gestures dramatically toward his room. “Actually, maybe just take the whole thing.”
Eddie shrugs and hoists the fruit basket on his hip. “Text or call if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks for coming. And for the smoothie. And the plant.”
Eddie’s gaze flicks between the bathroom and Buck. He salutes. “Godspeed, bud.”
Buck offers a tight smile and prays to god that Maddie doesn’t turn around right now. He just needs 30 more seconds.
Eddie and his fruit basket head for the elevator. Miraculously, the elevator doors shut right as an exasperated nurse saunters toward his room, Maddie at her side.
“Mr Buckley,” she says. “I hear you’re experiencing some nausea.”
“I - - was,” he says. “But I’m all good now. Feeling good.”
Maddie frowns. “Was that plant there the whole time?”
Buck swallows. If Maddie weren’t standing right in front of him, he’d consider throwing his most prized ficus out the window. Alas, it’s too late for acts of defenestration. “Yep,” he says. “It’s a ficus.”
“Your sister said something about toast. How much toast are you eating?”
“Just the - - regular amount of toast.”
The nurse sighs. “Okay, well, Zofran works better than toast for treating nausea, so let us know next time. Instead of just eating toast.”
“Got it,” he nods.
“Wonderful,” the nurse deadpans, turning around and leaving the room, leaving Maddie standing there with a plate of toast.
“Do you still want the toast?” Maddie asks.
Buck collapses back onto the bed. He’s so tired. He’s never been this tired in his life. “I think I need a nap,” he announces.
Maddie flicks off the light. “I swear that plant was not there ten minutes ago.”
4. Linda
Buck doesn’t really know Linda, but she’s a pain in his ass.
Maddie and Eddie have plenty of mutual friends, but almost all of them are also mutual friends with Buck. But not Linda. Linda is an outlier. Linda is a concern. Linda has whimsy. Linda is having a themed birthday party.
It’s a miracle he even finds out about it. Maddie mentions it offhandedly, something about needing a costume. It’s just by pure chance, mere happenstance, that he happens to spot the words LINDA’S PARTY on Eddie’s fridge calendar a few days later.
He stops in his tracks.
“You’re going to Linda’s birthday?” He asks, tone steady, and even, and incredibly nonchalant.
Eddie looks up from his iPad and nods. “Yeah. Are you?”
Buck sniffs. “No, I - - I don’t really know her.”
“Right,” Eddie says, returning to whatever he’s doing on his iPad. “I guess you wouldn’t. She’s great.” He snaps his fingers. “I need to get her a gift. Thanks for the reminder.”
Buck nods. “Sure.”
Sure, sure, sure, sure, sure.
He’s happy to help! Delighted to be of assistance! He’s not freaking the fuck out at all! Not even a little bit!
Look. Here’s the thing: At this point, if we’re being honest, his Maddie and Eddie problem has reached critical levels. Because Buck is not straight. Buck is not straight at all.
Buck is dealing with a conundrum. He yearns. Outwardly. Against his will. And his sister knows it.
He knows that she knows it. They don’t speak about it. But she knows.
And, unfortunately, Buck also knows.
He knows, and he can’t unknow. God, he wishes he could unknow. He wishes he could shove the butterflies back into the depths of his ribcage, and draw a curtain in front of the elephant that follows him from room to room.
Eddie is his best friend. And Buck can’t stop looking at his biceps. His innocent, platonic biceps. He’s had so many dreams about Eddie’s mustache that he’s lost count. Sensual dreams. Like a creep. It’s lascivious.
Worse, even, maybe, is his fatal case of the heart eyes. He can’t even look at Eddie normally. He can feel it on his stupid face, and he’s powerless against it. Eddie looks at him, or even worse, smiles, and Buck is a goner. He’s fucked. He’s heart-eying like no one has ever heart-eyed before, and his sister is noticing. She is aware.
But it would take the kind of strength that even Superman doesn’t possess to not look at Eddie. He loves looking at Eddie.
So, now more than ever before, which is saying something, Eddie and Maddie absolutely cannot, under any circumstances whatsoever, be in the same room.
Apologies to Linda, but Buck is RSVPing “absolutely the fuck not.”
You have to be subtle about these things. You don’t make it this many years into a scheme without knowing that.
So Buck waits. A few days pass, and when the time is right, he says:
“I hear Josh is going to Linda’s party.” See? Subtle.
Eddie sighs. “Yeah. He’s usually at the dispatch things.”
Buck blinks. “What do you mean dispatch things?”
Eddie shrugs. “Sometimes they invite me to drinks and things. I’m on the email chain. I usually can’t make it. And Josh is usually there.”
Buck tries to ignore the way his blood runs cold at the concept of an email chain with Maddie and Eddie’s email addresses on it. If you could torch an email chain, he would do it.
“And you don’t like Josh,” Buck reminds him. That’s the best angle he could come up with, okay? He’s short on time.
“Josh doesn’t like me,” Eddie corrects.
“Which is rude. And he’ll be there.”
“I’m sure lots of people will be there. It’ll be fine. We’re not enemies.”
“That you know of.”
Eddie looks at him. Raises a brow.
“I’m just saying,” Buck shrugs. “You never know. Might be best not to risk it.”
“I’m a big boy, Buck. I can take care of myself. And it’s Josh.”
“Okay. Well. Be careful.”
Eddie snorts. “It’s a disco-themed birthday party that starts at 11 am. I think I’ll be okay.”
“Discos are the perfect place to usurp an enemy. The disco ball discombobulates. It’s quintessential disco subterfuge.”
Eddie blinks at him. “Did you swallow a dictionary? What the fuck was that?’
“It’s - - Eddie. A disco is the perfect place for a kerfuffle. He could get you on the dance floor.”
“Get me??”
“H-he could stick out a well-timed foot. Throw you off balance. You could be out of work for weeks! I’m just being diplomatic.”
Eddie shakes his head. “Pendejo,” he says fondly. “Buck, what? How much coffee have you had today?”
Devastatingly, even looking at Buck like he’s an idiot, Eddie looks gorgeous. Majestic, even. Buck’s only solace is that he’s a fucking expert at this — at looking at Eddie and being as normal as possible. The adoration that inevitably slips through is out of his control, but he can, and does, suppress a shiver when those giant, honey golden eyes look at him. And for that, he deserves a fucking Oscar.
“I-I think you’re right about Josh, actually. Now that I think about it.”
Eddie raises a brow. “I thought you liked him?”
“H-he, no, you’re right. There’s something off about him. About his…cadence.”
Eddie blinks. “His…cadence? He has a normal cadence.”
“Or maybe it’s, um, his feet.”
“When have you seen his feet?”
“I haven’t. I just get bad vibes.”
“I think discos are typically a shoes-on event.”
“Sure,” Buck nods. “Sure. Don’t want to get your toes stepped on.”
Eddie frowns. “Are you okay? You’re being weirder than usual.”
“I’m great! I just - - want to make sure you can celebrate Linda without, y’know, Josh ruining the experience for you. You deserve a Josh-free environment to celebrate, uh, Linda.”
Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t know what this is,” he says, waving a hand in Buck’s general direction. “But none of it is answering my question.”
Right. Eddie did ask a question. “Oh. Uh. I don’t know. I’m bad at gifts. You know I’m bad at gifts. Maybe…a candle?”
Eddie sighs. “A candle,” he mumbles. “You’re no help. I’m asking Pepa.”
Buck is not someone who goes down without a fight, yet Linda’s disco-themed birthday party has him pinned to the mat.
Barring sneaking in with a trench coat, fake mustache, and a wig, he’s out of options. Not only is he out of options, but he’s actively assisting in his own demise — he’s babysitting. A gig he’d agreed to before he’d known what it was for.
And yes, okay, in a moment of weakness, he had considered canceling, so Maddie would have to cancel, so that Eddie and Maddie would not be able to disco in each other’s presence, but he is not a complete monster — Maddie has been looking forward to this stupid party for weeks.
He walks up the Han driveway like a man walking to his death sentence. He sighs, turns the doorknob, and opens the door to…chaos?
Maddie, whose hair is covered in cling wrap, is chasing a screaming, half-clothed Jee around the living room.
Jee spots Buck and changes course, heading right for him, still screaming at the top of her lungs. “Oh, I wouldn’t - -” Maddie tries, but Jee is already barreling into his legs.
“Uncle Buck!” She sobs, tears staining her cheeks. He makes the mistake of scooping her up into his arms before she finishes her sentence. “I don’t want bugs in my hair!”
Buck blinks.
Maddie winces. “We have lice,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I meant to call you, it’s been a morning.” She reaches for Jee, but Jee clings to Buck tighter, shoving her face into his neck, bugs and all.
Maddie winces again. “You’ll probably need to…check that,” she says, gesturing to his previously bug-free hair. “But since you’re here, maybe you can help? We’re playing salon, aren’t we, Jee? Do you think Uncle Buck should play salon with us?”
Jee stiffens in his arms, pulling back and looking at him suspiciously. “Uncle Buck,” she says. “Do you have bugs in your hair?”
Buck looks at Maddie. Maddie nods. “I…might? But that’s okay. It happens sometimes. But your mommy makes them go away. We just have to sit still for a little bit so we can make the bugs go away.”
She sniffs. “It’s itchy,” she sighs.
“Yeah. I know, sweetheart. But your mommy is really good at making the itchy go away. You wanna sit with me, and we’ll do it together?”
She considers this. She reaches up and pokes Buck’s hair with her little hands. “And Pretzel,” she decides. “Pretzel is itchy, too.”
It’s not until they’re having an alien princess tea party with cling wrap on their heads that Buck remembers why he was here in the first place. “Oh,” he says. “Linda’s party.”
Maddie has lice. Maddie can’t go to Linda’s party with lice. Buck is 33 and has been blessed with serendipitous headlice!
“Bad timing, huh?” She sighs. “I’ll catch up with her for coffee when I’m lice-free. Though I don’t know that I’ll ever find another use for the sequined jumpsuit I bought,” she adds. “I guess no one would stop me from wearing a sequined jumpsuit to get coffee.”
Buck snorts. “Maybe you can wear it to our next alien princess tea party. It sounds celestial.”
Maddie laughs and sips her tea. “Have you heard from Eddie? I think he was going.”
“Oh, was he?” He says, nonchalantly, pulling out his phone. Indeed, there’s a photo of Eddie, taken and sent by Chris, wearing a full 70s disco outfit — flared disco pants and half-unbuttoned button-up included. His mouth goes dry. He chokes. “Um. Oh, yeah. Look at that,” he manages. “Disco Eddie.” He turns the phone around to show Maddie. She snorts.
“It kinda suits him,” she chuckles. “He looks like he’d know how to dance.”
“Y-yeah,” Buck stammers. “He does. He was a ballroom dancer.”
“No way,” Maddie smiles. “Ugh, I can’t believe I’m missing it. He could teach me some moves.”
Buck has truly, truly never been more grateful to have bugs in his hair.
5. The Baby
Buck is not proud of this one, okay? He’d like that on the record.
Alas, he’s eating breakfast when his phone rings. Eddie’s perfect, beautiful, handsome face fills the screen, and Buck fumbles his phone embarrassingly at the sight of it.
He recovers and manages to answer.
“Eddie!” He says. “Hi. Hey. Hi.”
“Hey, man,” Eddie says. “I was hoping you could do me a massive favor?”
“Yeah,” he says on instinct. “Of course. Anything.”
“Do you have time today to make a batch of your lemon cheesecake muffins?”
Buck grins. He loves being useful. He loves helping Eddie. “Yeah! Sure! How many do you need?”
“Just whatever a normal batch makes. Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Of course! Chef Buckley at your service. I love an excuse to bake. Did Chris forget about another bake sale?”
“No, no, they’re for Maddie,” Eddie says, but that can’t be right. Buck must have heard him wrong.
He freezes. “My Maddie?”
Eddie snorts. “That’s the one. We’re going over to visit the baby later, and Chim said they already have too much baby stuff from Jee. I thought I’d bring something they could eat. The only thing I’m any good at making is spaghetti, and I figured they wouldn’t really want a vat of my spaghetti,” he chuckles.
But this is not a chuckling matter.
Buck blinks. “Lemon cheesecake muffins are Maddie’s favorite.”
“Yeah. That’s the idea.”
“How did you know that?”
“I think Chim mentioned it? I don’t know. We’re gonna go this afternoon. I’ll grab Chris from school, then swing by for the muffins if that works?”
That - - that does not work. That cannot work.
“Uh - - wait. Actually - - Maddie hates muffins.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t like them.”
“You just said they’re her favorite.”
“They used to be. Now she doesn’t like them. She’s allergic.”
“Oh,” Eddie says. “Okay. Can you make something she likes and isn’t allergic to? I don’t really care what it is.”
“She’s - - not eating sugar. And I think she’s pretty tired. Might not be up to visitors.”
Eddie pauses. “Chim said she’s been feeling really good? Did something happen?”
Buck hums. “Just - - postpartum, you know. It’s a sensitive time.”
“Yeah. Right here,” Eddie says. “In my texts. Maddie says she’d love to have visitors, and that Jee would love to see Chris. She sent it yesterday.”
Buck swallows. “W-why do you have Maddie’s number?”
Eddie snorts. “Buck, what? Of course I have Maddie’s number.”
“I didn’t know you two texted.”
“Yeah? Sometimes? Maybe I should ask Chim. I don’t want to stress anyone out.”
“Y-yeah. And I think Jee naps in the afternoon. So the timing probably wouldn’t work. She’d be, y’know…sleepy.”
“Ah,” Eddie tsks. “That’s a shame. Chris was looking forward to seeing the baby.”
“He doesn’t do much,” Buck says. “Just your standard baby.”
Eddie snorts. “I thought you said he’s the ‘most adorable, perfect baby you’ve ever seen’ and that he was ‘a genius, you could already tell’?”
Buck winces. “I - - yeah. But he also just sleeps a lot.”
“Okay,” Eddie sighs. “We might hold off for a while, if you think that’s best. Thanks anyway, man.”
“S-sure,” Buck stammers, feeling like the worst person in the world.
+1. Unsanctioned Wine Night
It might be karma that landed him here. The last straw may have been withholding lemon cheesecake muffins from his freshly postpartum sister — he can admit that wasn’t his finest moment.
Whatever is happening, and however it happened, there’s no denying that it’s happening: Find My Friends. The dots. The fraternizing of the dots — you remember.
Unfortunately, to make things worse, the dots are dalliancing at Hen and Karen’s house. This is not an accidental dalliance. This is an intentional, social, unsanctioned amalgamation.
And Buck was not invited.
Why the fuck was Buck not invited?
What the fuck is happening?
He’s not just going to sit by while the entire world explodes, now, is he? Obviously, he has no choice but to get into his car and drive to Hen and Karen’s house.
He knocks.
The door swings open.
“Buck?” Karen frowns. “Are you okay?”
Buck looks like he just rolled out of bed because he did. He didn’t get the memo that all of his friends would betray him at 11 pm on a Wednesday, otherwise he would have dressed up for the occasion.
“Me? Yeah. I’m great. I was just - - in the area. Thought I’d swing by. Say hello.”
Karen frowns. “Right. Uh. Now’s actually not a great time - -”
She’s cut off by Maddie’s distinct laugh and Hen’s giggling voice.
“And he - -” Hen gasps, laughing. “He thought we said he had a fractured penis,” she gasps.
“But he had a fractured pelvis,” another voice, Eddie’s voice, finishes, giggling. Giggling. His drunk giggle. He’s drunk giggling with Maddie. Without him.
Maddie’s cackles echo through the house.
“Was that Maddie?” Buck asks, peering over Karen’s shoulder. “And Eddie?”
Karen sighs. She turns around, yells: “BUCK IS HERE, AND HE’S COMING IN,” then motions for him to come inside.
Three wide-eyed, guilty faces blink at him as he enters the kitchen.
“W-what’s going on?” He asks.
“Wine night,” Hen says.
Buck tries to catch Eddie’s eye, but he’s avoiding eye contact.
“Eddie doesn’t go to wine night,” Buck says.
Karen clears her throat. “He’s a new member.”
“You didn’t tell me you were going to wine night,” Buck says, and Eddie finally looks up.
He clumsily presses a finger over his own mouth. “It was a secret,” he whispers loudly.
Buck frowns. “So, what? You all just get together and drink wine without me in secret?”
Eddie nods. “You can’t come, because we talk about you.”
“What?” Buck gapes. He has to be dreaming. This cannot be real. This is quite literally his exact fucking nightmare.
“Buckkk,” Maddie whispers, reaching up and smooshing his cheeks. “Shhhhh. Okay? Shhhhh. You’ll scare him away. We just got him here. You’ll spook him!”
Hen nods somberly, like that’s a genuine concern.
“I don’t understand why Eddie is here,” Buck manages. It doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense.
“Because Eddie needs wine night,” Maddie explains.
“What if I need wine night?”
“You need whine night,” Hen snorts. “That’s a different night. With juice boxes,” she cackles at her own joke. “'Cause you’re whiny.”
Buck huffs. That fucking stings. He’s - - he’s not whining, he’s - - confused! And hurt! Because his friends and his sister are drinking wine without him.
Maddie pouts. She squishes his cheeks further. “Don’t be sad, Buck. You know I love you, and I love hanging out with you, but you can’t come to wine night.”
Hen nods. “Because Eddie comes to wine night.”
“I go places with Eddie all the time!” He sulks. “I’m great at going places with Eddie! A-and since when do you two hang out? You’re not supposed to hang out.”
Maddie gasps. She twirls around to Eddie. “You were right!”
Eddie nods. “Told ya.”
Maddie points an accusing finger at Buck. “You were doing it on purpose!”
“No, I…what?”
Maddie narrows her eyes at him. “Maybe you can’t be invited to wine night because you wouldn’t let Eddie and me say one word to each other,” she says.
Fuck. They’re onto him.
“I - - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Maddie raises a brow. Eddie raises a brow. Hen and Karen raise both brows.
“O-okay. Maybe I - - so what if I don’t want my sister and my best friend conspiring? That’s not illegal!”
“You told Eddie I’m allergic to muffins,” Maddie accuses, poking him in the chest with her finger. “I love muffins.”
Buck blinks. “And, well, see! This is why you shouldn’t talk to each other! You shouldn’t know that!”
Hen snorts.
“I like Eddie," Maddie huffs. “You can’t keep him all to yourself. That’s greedy.”
“Naw,” Eddie smiles. He sways. He’s so drunk. “I like you, too, Maddie.”
“And we both like you,” she says, poking him in the chest. “So we have lots to talk about. Lots of things to catch up on. Without you.”
No. No. No, no, no.
“W-what do you mean?” Buck begs. “Why would you - - you don’t have to talk about me. W-what about…the geopolitical landscape? O-or the Titanic?”
“Shhhh,” Maddie whispers, pressing a finger over his mouth. “It’s wine night, Buck. Eddie’s wine night. We love you, but you can’t come to Eddie’s wine night.”
And though he tries his goddamn best to fight the ruling, the court of wine night rules against him. So Buck goes home. And Eddie stays at wine night. With Maddie.
It’s a gloomy morning, which is fitting, because it matches his mood and his soul. Buck watches the sunrise from his window — watches the rain fall from the sky. The persistent splash of the water against the sidewalk is Buck’s only true friend in this cruel and twisted world.
Like the universe wants to rub it in his face, the worst morning of his life smells like his favorite smell in the world. He can’t even enjoy it. Christopher was the one who had told him that the smell of rain is called petrichor. Christopher, who he’ll probably never see again, because Eddie hates him and would rather spend time with Buck’s sister than his alleged best friend.
It’s fine. He doesn’t need them, anyway. He has a dying ficus and a pantry full of flour to keep him company. Maybe he’ll make Maddie’s favorite muffins and eat every last one himself.
There’s a knock on his door.
He drags his mopey body from the couch to the front door and pulls it open.
Huh.
There’s a sight he’s never seen before.
Maddie and Eddie are both on his doorstep. Together. At the same time. Looking guilty, and hungover, and a little like two drowned rats, huddling under one umbrella.
He huffs, turns, and crawls back onto the couch, leaving the door open in dramatic invitation.
Maddie shakes out the umbrella, but Eddie heads right for him, plonking down across from him.
“I know you’re sulking, but it wasn’t a big, secret plan we were hiding from you. We ran into each other at the grocery store,” he explains, getting to the point. “Maddie invited me to wine night. She knew I needed to…talk.”
Buck sniffs. “You could’ve talked to me.”
“Not about this.”
“Not about what?”
“It doesn’t matter what it was, but I’m sorry - - we’re sorry you felt excluded,” Eddie says, gesturing to Maddie, who nods.
“I was excluded.”
Eddie bites down on a smile. “I’m sorry you were excluded.”
He sniffs.
“And are you maybe sorry for cockblocking me and Eddie for the past 8 years?” Maddie prompts.
Buck rolls his eyes. “It was only cockblocking at the start, and then you started dating Chim.”
“Oh my god,” Maddie grins. “I was right.”
Eddie shakes his head. “You thought I was going to date your sister?”
Buck shrugs. “You’d have cute kids. And it doesn’t matter, anyway. Apparently, we’re not friends anymore,’ he huffs, sulking into the kitchen.
“Buck,” Eddie sighs, trailing after him. “Wait.”
“What, Eddie?” Buck demands, pulling out a chocolate milk and downing half of it. “Or would you rather tell your real friends? Over wine.”
Eddie sighs, again. Buck notes that Maddie hasn’t followed them into the kitchen.
“I needed to talk to them about a…guy,” Eddie says.
Buck raises a brow, impatient. “Okay?”
“No, like - - I needed advice. About a guy.”
Buck frowns. He’s not sure how this is supposed to be helping. Buck is great at advice! He gives great advice! “Great. I hope they helped.”
Eddie sighs. “The guy I have a crush on,” he manages to get out, face flaming. “Jesus, I sound like I’m 13. I just - - I needed advice about my love life. And Hen and Karen already knew, and Maddie just kind of…looked at me and guessed. It was - - creepy, actually.”
Buck blinks. Sorry, that - - that sounded like Eddie said - - “The…the guy - - you have a crush on.”
“Yes.”
“Guy, like, man?”
“Yes.”
“Crush, like, romantic…feelings?”
“Yes. Should I get you a dictionary? A thesaurus?"
“You have romantic feelings for a man?”
“I do. And I needed to talk about it. And I’m sorry that that hurt your feelings.”
Buck blinks. “What man?”
Eddie tries not to smile. “You kind of look like you’re about to put a hit out on him.”
Buck all but crushes the chocolate milk bottle in his iron grasp. “N-no. No. I just - - who? Who is he? I can be - - I can be normal about this. I will be. I am. I’m being normal about this. I just - - I need to know who. Eddie. Who?”
“About 6’2”, curly hair, absolutely zero chill,” he starts. “Birthmark over his eye, once told me his sister was allergic to muffins, answers to Buck.”
Buck blinks, dumbstruck. He points at himself. “I’m Buck.”
“Hey,” Eddie smiles. “Would ya look at that?”
“You have a crush on me?”
“No partners allowed at wine night,” Eddie nods. “Except for Hen and Karen because they host, and they’re founding members.”
“Partners,” Buck whispers.
“I’m hoping so, anyway. Maddie seems pretty certain.”
Buck blinks. “You - - you’re - - gay,” he manages.
Eddie snorts. “Yeah. Yeah, actually. I think so.”
“You think so.”
“Yeah. Chris called me Homotron 3000, whatever that means.”
Buck blinks. “Homotron 3000,” he repeats.
“He also said we’ve been in a seven-year-long situationship, and that if I mess this up, he’s gonna let a raccoon loose in the house,” he continues. “I don’t really know what any of that means. I think the raccoon is code for something, I don’t know. I don’t know where he’d get an actual raccoon - -”
“Eddie,” Buck cuts in. “You have a crush on me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “And I’m trying this direct communication thing instead of putting you in my will and hoping you’ll just somehow know that that means I want to kiss you.”
“You want to kiss me.”
“Yeah, bud. Good job. Nothing’s getting past you.”
“O-on the mouth?”
Eddie bites down on a smile. “Yep, that’s the one. And sometimes, just - - besitos. All over your face.”
“Besitos,” Buck breathes. “All over my face.”
“Mhm. Like when you get all pouty and storm out of wine night.”
Buck gapes. “I - - I didn’t storm out.”
“Okay,” Eddie smiles. “And you didn’t do everything humanly possible to keep Maddie and me apart for seven years?”
Buck winces. “…yes?”
“Knock, knock!” Maddie announces, loudly, entering the kitchen with her hand over her eyes. “I’m entering the room! I’m opening my eyes!”
She removes her hand from over her eyes and blinks at them. Buck blinks back.
“Oh,” she says, seemingly disappointed. “Okay. Uh. Sorry to interrupt, but Nash has a tooth coming in, and Jee is looking for Pretzel, who is in my car, so I have to go. But, Buck,” she says, taking him by the shoulders. “I love you. If I ever did anything behind your back, it would be for your own good, okay? Trust me. And trust Eddie. And trust yourself,” she declares, pushing up on her toes to kiss him on the forehead. “Alright. Eddie, I will see you next Wednesday, my friend.”
Eddie nods at her. “Thanks, Maddie.”
Maddie nods back, and then she’s gone. It’s just Buck and Eddie. Buck and gay Eddie.
“I do trust you,” Buck says. “I’m sorry I told you Maddie is allergic to muffins. She’s not allergic to muffins.”
Eddie smiles. “I know, Buck.”
“I’m in love with you,” Buck confesses. “That’s why I said the muffin thing. And why I own a ficus that is hanging on by a thread. And why I pretend to think Josh is evil even though I actually think he’s perfectly fine. And why I couldn’t let you and Maddie even look at each other, because she knows, and you’d know, and - -”
“Buck,” Eddie chuckles. “I’m in love with you, too.”
Someone gasps. Buck is pretty sure it wasn’t him — he’s too busy using every brain cell he’s ever possessed to process what the fuck is happening. They both turn toward the gasp and find Maddie standing in the doorway, holding an umbrella.
“Sorry!” She whispers. “Ignore me! I forgot my umbrella! Continue! You’re doing great!” She says with a thumbs-up to boot.
Eddie grins, shooting her a thumbs-up in response.
“Oh my god,” Buck whispers.
“Sorry! Sorry! Bye!” Maddie whispers, grinning as she gleefully sneaks back through the house.
Eddie looks back at him, smiling. “Where were we?” He asks.
“Y-you were - - you said - -”
“Right. Yeah. That you’re the love of my life.”
Buck chokes. That is not what he had said. “The love of your - -”
“Life,” Eddie says easily. “Y’know. Mi vida. The only one I want to be with.”
“Holy shit.”
“I will be going to wine night, though, so hopefully that’s not a deal breaker.”
“No,” Buck breathes. “No. No deal breakers. You and Maddie can be best friends. That’s good. That’s great. I love that. I love you. And I love Maddie. I love you and Maddie.”
Eddie smiles. “Good. So we’re good?”
“We’re good. We’re so good.”
“You’re not sulking anymore?”
Buck shakes his head. “Nope. No. No sulking here.”
Eddie nods. He hums. He leans back against the counter. “You gonna kiss me, then?”
Buck swallows. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.
He doesn’t even remember moving. One second, he’s standing across from Eddie, the next, he’s right in front of him, boxing him against the counter.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “I’ll kiss you, Eddie.”
Eddie grabs the fabric of Buck’s sleep shirt and pulls him impossibly closer. Buck goes, because of course he does, there’s nowhere in the entire world he’d rather be. Eddie shifts, hands reaching behind him, and then he’s right at Buck’s eye level — sitting on the counter, pulling him into the V of his legs.
“I thought you said you were gonna kiss me,” he teases, arms winding around Buck’s neck. “Staring and kissing aren’t the same, y’know. Completely different things. Same amount of letters, though, I think.”
Buck tries to scoff, but his heart’s not in it. He is staring. Eddie is so beautiful. He’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He traces over his eyebrow with his thumb, watches the way his eyelashes flutter when he laughs. “You’re so pretty,” Buck whispers.
Eddie blushes. He blushes at Buck. “You’re still staring,” he says, but the teasing is gone. He just looks happy.
“I can kiss you?” Buck asks, because it doesn’t seem like something that’s real. It doesn’t seem possible that Buck can just lean forward and kiss the most beautiful person in the entire world. It doesn’t seem possible at all that Buck gets to have this. That Eddie gets to be his.
“Buck,” Eddie whines, and Eddie never whines. “Kiss me.”
He doesn’t need to be told…thrice. Buck curls a hand around Eddie’s jaw, and he kisses him. He kisses the most beautiful person who has ever existed — his best friend, the love of his life — Eddie, who is gay. Gay Eddie, who is kissing Buck. He’s kissing Buck, and he’s melting into the kiss, and Buck gets it, because it’s a good kiss. It’s the best kiss. No one has ever experienced a kiss better than this one; it’s not possible.
“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, resting his forehead against Buck’s. He has Buck trapped exactly where he wants to be — in the V of his thighs. “Imagine how long we could’ve been doing that if you’d let Maddie meddle.”
Buck tries to stagger back in protest of this thought, but, as mentioned, Eddie has him trapped with his thighs.
Oh, god. What has he done?
“I’m kidding,” Eddie snorts. “Buck, I’m kidding. Don’t spiral. Come back here and do that again.”
Buck huffs. “If I had known you were gay, Eddie.”
“I know,” Eddie chuckles. “I know, bud. It doesn’t matter. I actually - -”
“What?”
“I think it’s kinda hot when you do unhinged shit like that.”
Buck blinks. “Excuse me?”
Eddie shrugs. “I love you. And I love how your brain works. And I love that I know exactly what you were thinking when you did it, even though it actually makes no sense. I like that you’re a little unhinged about me, cause I’m a little unhinged about you, too.”
But Buck - - Buck is still stuck approximately 57 words ago. “You think I’m hot?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t fish for compliments. It’s unbecoming.”
“I think you’re hot. Eddie, I think you’re the hottest person in the entire world. I’m being serious. If I could have 20 hall passes, they would all be you. There’s literally no one else on the planet hotter than you.”
Eddie snorts. “See?” He smiles. “A little unhinged. Good thing you’re handsome, too. And so hot that you single-handedly caused a sexuality crisis in my 30s. I spent the entirety of wine night talking, in detail, about how hot you are. For hours, Buck. Your sister was there.”
Buck grins. “Hell yeah,” he breathes. “I love wine night. I love my sister. I love you.”
“Now that I think about it, we probably owe Maddie a lot of muffins for what she had to listen to. A lot of muffins.”
Buck pauses. “How many muffins, exactly?”
“Lots of muffins, Buck,” Eddie winces. “A lot of muffins.”