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Something’s shifted.
Eddie feels it in the way he carries himself, with a weightlessness that didn’t use to be there. He sees it in the carefree smile reflected in the mirror. He catches it in the way Chris looks at him sometimes, when he thinks that Eddie isn’t paying attention and that he can get away with dropping the mask of his teenage indifference.
He notices it in the way he is around Buck. In the looks that he lets linger, in the orbital pull towards him that he doesn’t try to resist, in the tug in his chest whenever he’s out of sight, and in the luminous warmth that replaces it whenever he comes back.
It could just be his general ease extending to their relationship, or a manifestation of the relief that he got Buck back after almost losing him again, first to New Mexico, and then to the fallout. It could just be that.
Except that he catches himself watching. Except that Eddie’s hand will twitch in an aborted move when Buck unsettles a wild lock of his curls with a careless hand through his hair, and his eyes and attention will drop when Buck accidentally smudges flour at the corner of his mouth when he’s baking. Except that Buck is his last thought when he collapses into bed and his first when he wakes up.
He starts missing Buck even when he’s around, which is a ridiculous sentiment.
Buck is reachable, touchable, and he sends him these glowing smiles whenever Eddie comes into his vicinity (which he does as much as he possibly can, bar following him into the damn bathroom) or starts up any kind of mundane conversation that Buck immediately jumps on with his patented enthusiasm.
Eddie’s thoughts skirt the edges of what it is exactly that he’s missing, too wary still to cross over the line.
For want of courage to face it, he instead invites himself into Buck’s life more. He’s ashamed to admit it took him this long to notice, but before Texas, it was maybe too often the other way around. Buck fit there perfectly, in Eddie’s house, his life, his family, and he still does, but the distance between them never fully closed even after he came back.
Eddie doesn’t hold it against Buck in any shape or form, especially given the circumstances and everything that followed. If anything, it’s on him. Buck was searching for a place in his own life amidst his grief, and he looked for it a little outside of Eddie’s orbit.
It was fair, after he was forced out of it for months while Eddie repaired his relationship with his son, but it didn’t hurt any less when Buck announced he was moving out.
If the past months have taught Eddie anything, though, it’s that at the core they’re still as vital to each other as they’ve always been, and if Buck has managed to carve out his own individual space, then maybe it was time for Eddie to be the one to wedge himself in there.
As for Buck, he’s not the man he was a year or even a few months ago, but maybe he’s not supposed to be. He seems settled. There’s a quiet composure about him that he’s been aging into through every version update, but it’s more apparent now, and Eddie finds that it soothes him. It also multiplies his appreciation for the outbursts of exuberance that Buck still regularly offers.
In any case, Buck doesn’t seem to mind Eddie’s newfound determination to spend time with him; if anything he’s starting to seek out opportunities too, and with every text hastily answered, every front door opened after the first knock, Eddie’s affection grows tenfold.
Chris doesn’t always tag along, partly because he’s had the social schedule of a congressman ever since they got back to LA, partly because he’s a teenager who on occasion will act like he’s too cool to hang out with his dad to keep up pretenses. Eddie doesn’t mind, his son is a little too perceptive for his liking and he’s happy to do without his audience’s too-frequent eyebrow raises whenever they’re at Buck’s place.
Maybe Eddie’s not that obvious, or maybe his son is just that observant, but if Buck has picked up on any of the changes that Eddie sees in himself, he hasn’t mentioned them, and, crucially, they haven’t caused any in him. He tries and fails not to read into it.
Eddie’s leaning against the counter in Buck’s kitchen with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand as he watches him carefully measure out flour, his lips moving around a retelling of a history podcast he was listening to before Eddie joined him. Sunlight beams through the window, casting the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks, and when he glances at Eddie, the light hits his iris in that way that makes it piercing ice-blue.
In his mind, Eddie dips a toe past the line.
Buck is going to start dating again.
At least that’s the tail end of a conversation that Eddie catches as he’s climbing up to the loft. He falters at the last step when it reaches his ears, and he has to field a curious glance from Ravi. Buck turns in his seat to follow his gaze and smiles brightly when he spots him.
Eddie joins them at the island, swiping a cookie from the plate Buck had brought in this morning.
“What’s this about a date?” He asks around a mouthful, eyes darting between Buck and a weirdly constipated-looking Ravi.
“Ah, uh, Ravi was just...” Buck makes a weird pout, then shrugs, as if that was enough of an explanation.
“I just have this friend I really think he’d get along with, but he’s playing self-deprecating bingo.” Ravi waves an exasperated arm towards Buck.
“I’m not, I just don’t think I’m good to date right now.”
“A few months ago you dated two halves of a married couple and banged both of them.” Eddie half chokes on his next bite at Ravi’s words, and tries to hide it behind a cough. “Don’t tell me you’re getting self-conscious.”
Buck hums and narrows his eyes with a deeply sarcastic frown. “Don’t know if you noticed, but a bunch has happened since then.”
“Exactly!” Ravi throws his hands up. “You deserve to have some fun!”
“He’s not looking for fun,” Eddie mumbles without really thinking it through. Two pairs of eyes land on him, and he shrinks into his seat. There’s a hint of pink coloring Buck’s cheeks, and he’s staring at Eddie like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“What, am I wrong?” He adds when the silence drags on, hoping his attempt at nonchalance is at least a little bit convincing.
“No,” Buck breathes, ducking his head, finally releasing Eddie from the weight of his gaze, “you’re not wrong.”
“Just take his number, man,” Ravi says as he scribbles on a nearby notepad. He tears the page and slides it Buck’s way. “Do whatever you want with it, but I already told him I’d give it to you, so. At least let me hold my end of that promise. He was really excited to meet you, you know, you’re a catch.”
Buck shakes his head a little bashfully, the corner of his mouth twitching with a suppressed smile.
“It’s on you for promising anything in the first place,” he throws over his shoulder as Ravi walks away. His voice sounds softer than Eddie thinks the words would require.
Eddie watches with morbid fascination as Buck drags the piece of paper towards him, folds it neatly, and places it in his pocket. He might just throw it away later, he could just be acting polite for Ravi. Eddie doesn’t like the way his insides churn, or the strange tension in his throat.
It feels unfair to be anything but happy for his best friend, who, Ravi is right, does deserve some levity. Except that Eddie knows Buck is over casual hookups, and if he actually puts his mind to finding someone, it’ll be for something serious, something long term.
It probably wouldn’t take him long to find that someone, because Buck is the most incredible, caring, enthusiastic, radiant person Eddie’s ever met, and sure, he’s been unlucky in love before, but if hereally looks, he’ll find his person. Anyone would be a fool to pass on someone like Buck.
Eddie is a fool.
He realizes he’s been staring when Buck finally shakes himself out of his thoughts and his gaze collides with his own. Eddie’s eyes don’t falter.
“You don’t like it?”
Eddie inhales slowly. He’s nowhere near prepared for that conversation, Buck needs his support more than he needs his jealousy. Eddie has had a tendency to develop a trademark disdain for whoever Buck dates, something he’s always thought was entirely justified considering theaudacity of some of them, but in retrospect there’s a teeny tiny possibility that it could have been more about Buck than anyone else.
No, he doesn’t like it. Not that he thinks Buck isn’t ready, or that he’d strike out, or that Ravi’s friend (relax, he needs to relax) is anything but a perfectly nice guy – although, probably not good enough, no one would be good enough for Buck, not even himself, and – shit. He doesn’t want to lie to Buck, but he’s barely begun to figure out –
“I probably went a little overboard with the nutmeg,” Buck huffs a laugh, and Eddie’s thoughts grind to a halt.
“What?”
Buck nods towards the long forgotten, half-eaten cookie still dangling between Eddie’s fingers. “I don’t know, I tried something different, but you don’t have to finish it if you don’t like it.”
“Oh,” Eddie says dumbly, tearing his eyes away from Buck’s sustained gaze to look at his hands. “Uh, no it’s – these are really good, Buck,” he smiles softly, taking a huge bite to prove his point even if he’s not really hungry for it anymore.
Unsurprisingly, Buck reads right through him. “Are you okay?”
Eddie hums as he chews, and he might be exaggerating the size of the bite he just took, just a bit.
“Eddie.” Buck’s eyebrows are furrowing, his smile is slowly fading, and Eddie is pinned in place.
He swallows dryly, shoves away the thoughts running through his head, stores them for later when he can stare blankly at the ceiling in peace for four hours and think. He huffs a laugh, gives a little shrug. “Maybe a little less nutmeg, yeah.”
Buck relaxes and ducks his head in that self-conscious manner he adopts sometimes. Eddie instantly wants to apologize, to grovel at his feet. He finishes the cookie instead, and basks in the appreciative look Buck graces him with.
Buck is sitting on the ground in Eddie’s yard, dirt smeared over his clothes and his arms, sweat shining over his brow. He’s stopped weeding, and he’s discarded his trowel to the side in favor of staring at his hand with a discreet smile over his lips.
Eddie cocks his head in confusion from his spot in the kitchen until he notices it, a tiny moving red dot over the crest of skin where his thumb meets his palm. Buck’s lips move around words that Eddie can’t make out as he says something no doubt stupidly endearing to the ladybug, before laying his hand down and out of the way until it slowly walks off his hand onto a blade of grass.
It never ceases to amaze him that Buck, strong, colossal, powerful, continually proves to be the most gentle person he’s ever met.
Eddie can’t help the dumb smile spreading over his lips, his hands hanging loosely over the sink where he’d just washed them.
“Can I have some?”
The sound of the crutches must have escaped him. He turns to Chris, grabbing a dishtowel to dry his hands, and watches him look quizzically between him and the window he was staring out of.
“I was gonna bring you some in your room,” Eddie says as he pours him a tall glass of the freshly made lemonade.
“Denny had homework, we had to stop the game,” he shrugs as he slides into a seat across Eddie, eyes darting over his shoulder towards where Buck is still sitting outside.
Eddie casts his eyes away as he gathers the cut-up lemon peels from the counter and opens his mouth to try and stop the impending inquisition he thinks is coming, but Chris cuts in before he has a chance.
“Hey, remember how you dipped into my college fund to not go on a date?”
Eddie stills, a droplet lemon juice stinging the tiny little cuts around his nails. He leans down to drop them in the compost and straightens up to gawk at his son.
“Okay, I did not dip into – how do you even know about that?!”
“Denny heard his moms talk about it.”
The nonchalance with which he says it does nothing to calm his raging pulse. He sighs as he wipes his hands again, and leans on the counter.
“Chris, listen –”
“You know, you don’t have to not date because of me.” Eddie looks up, a little taken aback. “You can date someone if you want, I don’t mind.”
Leave it to Chris to spring a conversation like that on him out of the blue. Eddie purses his lips, pensive, and exhales slowly. He’s still working out what exactly he wants to say, because he doesn’t want his son to think he’s responsible for any kind of turmoil in his life, but dating has been kind of a taboo ever since he blew up their lives two years ago.
Chris doesn’t have to say it out loud for him to know that’s what he thinks the auction was about, and he’s at least half-right.
“I wish you wouldn’t have to worry about that. That’s – are you sure?”
He readjusts his glasses in that adorable way that reminds Eddie of when he was five or ten years younger, and he has to reel in a fond smile lest he be met with an exasperated sigh from his teenager.
“Yeah, Dad. Date who you wanna date.”
Eddie sighs as something settles in his mind, and he lays a hand over Chris’ wrist across the counter, indulging for a moment. “I – thank you, mijo, for telling me that.”
Chris nods and takes a sip of his lemonade as Eddie stacks two glasses with the intention of bringing the rest of the lemonade out for Buck.
“So are you gonna?”
Eddie was a fool to think his son would let him go that easily. He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes fondly. “Well, to be frank, I wasn’t really looking to date anyone, Chris.”
His son lets out a very long hum that drips with sarcasm. Eddie has half a mind to call him out on the attitude, but he just raises an eyebrow instead.
“I’m just saying, if there’s someone, whoever they are,” Chris emphasizes as he glances up at Eddie, pinning him in place. “You know, as long as they don’t suck at Mario Kart, and they like fun facts, and movie nights, and hawaiian pizza.”
“Chris.”
“And gardening for free.”
“Christopher.” Eddie runs a hand over his brow, hoping to hide the heat rushing to his cheeks. This is the whole honesty deal they made in Texas coming back to bite him in the ass.
“I’m just saying!” Chris lifts his hand up, the picture of fake innocence.
“Yeah, you’re just saying a lot of things,” Eddie mumbles, dropping his hand back down.
He glances over his shoulder at Buck, whose back is turned to them. Should Eddie be worried he hasn’t wondered where he went? He looks back at his son.
“It’s not like – we’re – I’m…It’s complicated.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
“Okay, careful with the tone, bud,” Eddie smiles despite himself. He stares at his hands for a second, resisting the urge to seek out Buck again.
“If,” Eddie starts, and a strange kind of tension makes his breath tremble. “If that were something I, uh, maybe, wanted to try...” His eyes dart up at Chris, and he finds all traces of teenage defiance gone from his traits, replaced by unwavering focus. “You’d be okay with that? Me and… Me and Buck?”
He had been planning on talking to Chris about it, at some point, further down the line when he was ready to actually, maybe, do something about it. However he’d figured he had about another five appointments with Frank to figure his shit out and work up to that conversation with his son, to know the right words to use.
He’d thought Chris might take it poorly – not because Buck is a man, but because Eddie is an Olympic gold medalist at ruining relationships, and Chris might worry that Eddie would fuck up and cause Buck to disappear. He’d wanted to prepare, to make sure he could reassure him that Buck would never leave him no matter what happened between them.
Evidently, if the smile Chris is biting back is any indication, that was a whole lot of projection. Doesn’t mean Eddie won’t have that more serious conversation anyway, but his son pulled the rug out from under him and ended up freeing him from the more difficult part – actually saying it.
“Yeah, Dad. I’m good with it.”
Eddie heaves a sigh of relief. “Okay.” He finds himself biting the inside of his cheek to contain his own grin. “Okay, then. I’m gonna hug you now.”
Chris groans exaggeratedly but doesn’t move away as Eddie rounds the island to wrap him in a quick hug, just long enough to drop a kiss on top of his curls. “Love you, mijo.”
“Yeah, yeah, love you,” Chris shoves at him lightly, and Eddie releases him. “You might want to work on sounding a little more sure when you ask him, though. I was wondering,” Chris starts with a mocking fry in his voice, dragging out the last syllable, and Eddie glares, “maybe, uhh, if, uhh, possibly, we could try,” Chris tilts his head to the side with every pause.
It is one of those instances as a father where Eddie really, really wants to laugh, but he can’t because that would set a terrible precedent. The sassiness must be corralled. He inhales sharply and raises his eyebrows. He’s not trying to look angry, but he’s not letting his son know how funny Eddie actually thinks he is.
“You wanna lose gaming privileges? Keep going,” Eddie points a finger at his son, and he’s pretty sure he’s at least half-successful when Chris laughs brightly, but does raise his hands in surrender.
“Sorry.”
“What’s so funny?”
Both of them startle at the sound of Buck’s voice. He wipes his brow with the back of his hand as he steps inside, a playful glint in his eyes. Chris shrugs, the veneer of nonchalance firmly back in his demeanor, and he doesn’t even give Eddie a second to start to panic about a lie.
“Dad was being dumb, so I made fun of him.”
“Hey,” Eddie protests weakly. He loves this kid so much.
“Ah, sad I missed it. Did he threaten you with disproportionate punishment?”
“You bet.” Chris shakes his head with a falsely exasperated sigh.
“Just – drink your lemonade, you. And you,” he narrows his eyes at Buck, “don’t encourage him.”
“Aw, is somebody upset?” Buck cocks his head with a grin as he takes a few goading steps further into the kitchen.
Eddie scoffs, and he is suddenly immensely grateful for the heat today, because he would be hard pressed to explain the flush rising in his cheeks. His eyes dart down to Buck’s chest, where his damp shirt is clinging to the skin, shifting with the muscles underneath, and he immediately turns his attention back to the pitcher in front of him.
He pours Buck a glass and hands it to him, forcing his eyes to meet Buck’s and stay up there. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Chris giving him a pointed look that he promptly ignores.
Maybe he should move up his next appointment with Frank.
There’s sweat pooling at the small of his back, condensation droplets slowly rolling down his fingers from the bottle in his hand. Eddie closes his eyes against the sun, his sunglasses barely enough to shield them, and leans back in his chair on Buck’s back porch, legs extending in front of him.
The conversation has lulled, slowed down by the heat bearing down on them, even though neither of them make a move to get out of it. Eddie cracks an eye open to peek at Buck, who’s reclined in his chair, head tilted back to the point it must be at least a little uncomfortable, but there’s a small content smile crinkling the corner of his closed eyes.
Eddie turns his head back towards the yard, takes in a steady breath, rolls the tension out of his shoulders.
“So, uh, did you end up going on a date with Ravi’s friend?”
He hears Buck shift next to him and glances at him. Buck is straightening in his seat, his smile a little less genuine and a little more awkward. Eddie feels slightly guilty to have broken the moment, but he wants to know. So he asked.
“Uh, no.”
Relief courses through him. Maybe this time, finally, life let him get the timing right. Buck shrugs when Eddie raises an eyebrow.
“Mh. Did you text him?”
“Yeah, I mean, we talked a couple times, but I don’t know, I’m not really, uh,” Buck tilts his head to the side with a grimace, “engaged in the conversation. I think he thinks I’m kind of a dick, which is probably sort of true.”
“Let him,” Eddie says with a dismissive shrug, his heartrate picking up in his chest. Buck barks out a laugh, an incredulous little thing that’s tainted with self-consciousness. Eddie wants to kiss it out of him.
“Wow, okay, then.”
“No, I – you’re not a dick, Buck, Ravi kinda forced your hand. I just mean, you know. Whatever.” Eddie brings the beer to his lips and speaks around the neck, trying to hide the nervous twitch of his mouth. “Let him think you are.”
“Why would I want him to think I’m a dick?”
“Why would you care?” Eddie says with a laugh.
Buck’s brows shoot up and he readjusts his position to face Eddie, who is doing a great job at not imploding in his seat. He takes another sip and finds the strength to face Buck’s inquisitive gaze.
“D’you actually want to go on a date with this guy?”
The way Buck turns up his nose is so endearing it almost manages to break Eddie’s barely-there composure. “Not really.”
“Good. Don’t.”
Buck stills, a wary frown settling over his eyes. His lips part around an aborted reply, but he just huffs a breath instead.
Eddie tries to control the tremor in his hand as he puts his beer down on the ground next to him and leans forward with his elbows in his lap, head turned to look at Buck. He takes off his sunglasses, even if he now has to squint against the sunlight, because he doesn’t want any semblance of barrier when he asks. He wants Buck to see all of him.
“Go on a date with me instead.”
Eddie watches carefully as Buck’s eyes widen, as his shoulders rise with a shaky breath, the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. Buck chuckles awkwardly, hand twitching around his own bottle like he doesn’t know what to do with it.
“You mean like, uh – restaurant or – I mean, we already hang out half the time, we’re hanging out right now. But uh, I – sure, we, we can go out.”
This, Eddie expected. He shakes his head lightly. “No.”
“No?”
“No. I don’t mean go out like we usually do.” He waits patiently for the puzzle to piece itself together in Buck’s head, and if the pretty pink pooling in his cheeks is any indication, it’s starting to.
“Um,” is all Buck says as he blinks, his gaze never leaving Eddie.
The bottle hangs loosely between Buck’s fingers, threatening to fall over, so Eddie reaches out and peels it out of his hand to put it down. He remains slightly leaned over the armrest of his seat, close enough to smell his sunscreen, to see the light sheen of sweat on his skin and the small nick on the curve of his jaw where he shaved a little carelessly.
With a fond sigh, he curls his fingers around the back of Buck’s neck, feeling goosebumps rise under his touch. It’s not fear that has his heart hammering in his chest, just anticipation. He’s almost certain that he’s not alone in this and even if he’s wrong, it wouldn’t break them apart.
All the love he has, that he’s had for Buck, for years, he already knows what to do with it, no matter the shape it takes. Even if this doesn’t work, he’ll just keep carrying it; it’s not like he knows how to live any other way.
Buck’s breath stutters as he stares unblinkingly at Eddie.
“I want to go on a date. With you.” And just in case, he really hammers it home. He’s not taking any chances. He gives Buck a pointed look and squeezes the hand around his nape. “Romantically.”
“Eddie,” Buck huffs a laugh, disbelief written all over his face.
He strokes his thumb over Buck’s neck, brushing the soft skin under his ear, and revels in the small noise it drags out of Buck. “Please?”
Buck’s eyes flutter closed as he exhales slowly. Eddie’s entire skin is buzzing. He’s a patient man, but Buck is really testing his limits.
“Yeah,” the soft reply finally comes as Buck looks back at him. Eddie takes a dizzying breath and his chest is too small for the magnitude of his relief.
Eddie feels his smile grow impossibly big. “Yeah?”
“Yes, yeah, we should definitely – yeah.” Buck starts nodding frantically, gaze darting to Eddie’s lips then immediately back up, like he’s been caught.
Except he’s allowed to, Eddie wants him to, so he leans in a fraction, until Buck ducks his head.
“Aren’t we supposed to wait for the end of the first date for that?” Buck is looking at him through his lashes with a smug smile. The effect is only a little bit dampened by the ridiculously bright blush in his cheeks, and the fact that Eddie is way too gone for him to be ashamed about being eager.
But fine, he’ll play that game.
He pulls away, though he doesn’t go too far, and he drags his hand back until only the tips of his fingers remain at the curve of Buck’s collarbone where he strokes them idly over the neck of his shirt.
“What, you want the whole shebang? Me picking you up, opening the passenger door for you, driving you home? The whole song and dance on the porch while you pretend to look for your keys, even though we both know you already have them?”
Buck snorts lightly, but he has to bite the inside of his cheek to suppress his smile, and Eddie knows he has him. He skims his fingers up the side of Buck’s throat, watches the muscle twitch in their path.
“Want me to lean in, maybe put my hand right here,” he lays his palm at the curve of Buck’s jaw, his thumb just under his chin, gently tilting his head back up, “thank you for the evening, even if it was just as lovely as the hundreds we’ve had before, except this time, this time I get to –”
Buck fists the front of his shirt and pulls him in. It’s a clash of teeth at first, because Eddie is grinning wide enough for his cheeks to hurt, and Buck heaves a frustrated breath when Eddie fails to control it in time – but he does, eventually.
His smile softens, his hand lifts to cup Buck’s cheek and pulls him in further as he lets himself melt into it. It’s life-changing and yet so painfully normal, so natural that Eddie knows, from the moment that Buck’s lips give between his, that of course, of course this is what he was missing, what he was looking for so earnestly, and what he was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge.
And for what? How many more tender touches, casual kisses, moments of unconditional affection could he have had if he’d just let himself see what was right in front of him, for months, years–
Buck hums softly against his lips, then pulls back a fraction to lean his forehead against Eddie’s, releasing his grip on Eddie’s tee to curl his fingers around his wrist.
“What’s going on in your head?” He sounds a little breathless, and Eddie is right there with him.
Eddie shakes his head lightly, biting back a giddy sound when Buck’s nose brushes against his.
“Just,” he inhales slowly, and he focuses, stretching the moment like taffy – he feels calloused fingers pulse against the inside of his wrist, curls tickling his brow, a warm exhale mingling with the dry summer air and the smell of oranges. Something unfurls in his chest and lets his lungs expand like he’s taking the first real breath of his life.
“Just, thinking about all the time we have ahead of us.”