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Eddie doesn’t know whether this is classed as torture, but he’s expecting Buck to pay for his therapy bills anyway.
He came back from El Paso a few weeks ago. As Buck had so kindly taken up being his renter so that Eddie didn’t have to give up South Bedford street, Buck had nowhere to go when Eddie and Chris moved back. And of course, Eddie doesn’t plan to kick him out until he can find a new place.
They’ve cohabited before, during Covid. They can do it again. They should, in theory, be able to do it again.
They, in fact, cannot do it again.
Because Eddie’s sanity is slowly dwindling.
7 weeks he’s been back. 7 weeks and 3 days to be precise. 52 days in total.
He’s been living with his best friend for 52 days. 52 days of sharing a house, a home, a life, a bed with Buck. That normally wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it normally would be great. He loves spending time with Buck, the more the better.
But 56 days ago- 8 weeks ago- Eddie came to some startling realisations.
He’d been packing up his house in El Paso, ready to try and cart all of his belongings back to L.A, when it had hit him with a stunning clarity. His feelings for Buck- his Romantic feelings for Buck, had hit him like a fucking freight train and knocked him on his ass.
He wasn’t shocked by the feelings, nor what they had meant for his identity, but they had set him back a little. Had him rethinking interactions and his intentions behind certain decisions. Especially since Buck had come out.
He’d spent the next few days spiralling just a little, trying to figure out how he was going to act normal around Buck once they moved in together after realising that he’s in love with him.
Turns out, it wasn’t too difficult.
Keyword being too. He’s had his fair share of questionable moments, where he’s sure the people around him are questioning his sanity, or his mental stability, but he’s managed to avoid any pressing questions. Especially Hen’s. He knows hers would be too accurate, and would hit a little too close to home.
But so far most of his interactions with Buck have been okay. Their usual level of normal, he’d argue, which he’s realised is likely so very fucking far away from other people’s sense of normal, but it’ll have to do.
All of this to say he’s being normal with Buck. Buck however, has not been entirely normal with him. Since living together Buck has reached a new level of domesticity Eddie didn’t even know was possible.
It’s had Eddie questioning everything.
So can Eddie really be blamed for snapping?
————————————————————————————
Eddie’s picked up an extra shift. Moving across the country twice, buying fixer-upper homes and then reselling them, and buying impromptu play stations to win brownie points with his son is a costly endeavour, and he’s elected to pick up shifts wherever he can for the extra pay.
Buck had told him not to worry. Had insisted that he could help out more with the bills until Eddie’s on stable ground. Eddie had refused- he’s seen Buck’s credit score- but Buck had found other ways to cut Eddie’s costs.
Buying more than his fair share of groceries, filling both their tanks because he just ‘happened to be passing the gas station, Eds!’ He had even tried paying the bills when it was Eddie’s turn, claiming “Oh, thought it was my turn, never mind” with a shrug. Eddie had scowled, then raced to pay the next two sets of bills before Buck could get to them, making them even.
So Buck pouts about it, complains that Eddie’s working too much and should take a break. But Eddie refuses to fall behind, to not pick up his fair share.
So, today he has an extra shift. But, this means Eddie has to work without Buck.
He doesn’t like it when he doesn’t have Buck watching his back, but C-shift are nice enough so he’ll let it go. It’s only a 24 anyway, he’ll be fine.
Despite the fact that Buck isn’t working, he’s still up at an ungodly hour of the morning. He’s in the kitchen, mumbling away to himself as Eddie gets ready to leave.
Eddie is not a morning person, opting to stay in bed for as long as possible as God intended. The 7th day is for rest, of course, and Eddie’s sure he’s on the 7th day of something.
When he walks into the kitchen, he finds he’s in the 7th circle of hell, actually.
Buck’s standing at the stove, in nothing but a pair of low hanging grey sweatpants and an apron tied loosely around his waist. The sun is streaming in through the window, highlighting and brightening his soft curls around his head like a halo. His eyes shine an electric blue as the light catches on them. Skin stretches on for miles over his bare back, surprisingly tanned and dotted with freckles that call for Eddie to spend hours tracing them with his fingers.
The sweats sit low on his hips, showing off a peek of his back dimples. His shoulderblades are hunched as he works, but it does nothing to minimise the pure size of him. He’s fucking massive, and Eddie can’t help the way his eyes trail over the enormity of his back, appreciating every inch of skin that’s left on show. He can see the beginning of the cut of the ‘v’ that he knows sits below Buck’s naval from the side, and his mouth waters as he imagines running his tongue along it, but the rest is cut off by the apron.
He refuses to pout about it, but it’s a near thing.
The bow of the apron’s drawstring hangs prettily over his lower back, drawing Eddie’s eyes to the firm muscles that pull in tight at Buck’s waist. He watches as they ripple with every one of Buck’s movements.
He’s so fucking pretty.
It’s only then that he starts to consider what it is Buck’s doing in his- their- kitchen at 7:28 on a Thursday morning, when he could still be in a blissful land of sleep.
When Eddie had forced himself out of bed at 6:45, it was done so with an admittedly grumpy groan, and a shout down the hall to wake his equally grumpy teenage son for school, before he got in the shower. Buck was still asleep when he left the bed, thankfully on his own side instead of curled around Eddie’s back like he had been throughout the night.
Eddie would not have been able to pull himself from the bed if they were still intertwined. He would have stayed there and soaked up the feeling of being held in Buck’s arms. He would have been late, which would have been a bad look with C-shift.
When he had gotten out of his shower Buck was no longer in bed. He could hear him down the hall, talking to presumably Chris, as he got dried and dressed.
But now, he stands alone at Eddie’s -their- stove, preparing breakfast?
He must hear Eddie pad into the room, because he doesn’t have time to announce himself before Buck spins around to level him with a blinding smile. He has a bowl in hand, pancake batter half filling it and splattered up the side as Buck mixes it with a whisk.
There’s a smudge of flour on the end of his nose.
Eddie wants to brush it away with his lips.
“Morning Eds, pancakes are nearly done. Chris already had some before I sent him to the bus, he mentioned he wanted to get to school earlier than usual today? Something about completing an assignment with a friend before second period. He said you knew about it so neither of us have to drive him to school, but he did ask that one of us pick him up- me, obviously, given that you have a shift. Which reminds me, Bobby won’t be in today, and we all know that C-shift are great firefighters but awful cooks, so I made sure to leave you some of last night's pasta bake for you to heat up when you get the chance, it’s already tubbed up in the fridge for you. Coffee’s just finished, here-” he rambles, barely giving Eddie time to breathe or answer before he passes him a cup. It’s Eddie’s favourite cup, the ‘#2 dad’ one Chris had gotten for him a couple years back.
It’s filled with coffee, and when Eddie takes a sip he’s not shocked to find it’s made exactly how he likes it. Two sugars and a splash of vanilla creamer he ‘only uses because Buck buys it.’
Buck buys it because he knows Eddie likes it but won’t buy it for himself.
He’s back rambling before Eddie can blink. “-I’ll drive you to the station when you’ve eaten, I know you hate driving in L.A morning traffic before you’ve eaten something more substantial than pancakes. In fact, you don’t like much of anything before you’ve eaten, but I don’t mind the drive so I might as well drop you off. I was going to refill the tank after I went grocery shopping anyway,” he starts, moving around the kitchen while still whisking the batter as he speaks.
“I’ve used the last of the eggs now, and Pepa said she was going to come over and help me with the Tres Leches recipe I was telling you about last night, I can’t get it right- I don’t think I’m whipping the egg whites properly, but I suppose Pepa will show me what I’m doing wrong,” he continues, digging through the fridge for the blueberries he hates but he knows Eddie loves in his pancakes.
He frowns as he pulls them out, but he still sprinkles them into the batter he pours into the pan, with a mutter of “need to add blueberries to the list”. It’s then that Eddie sees he’s used the last of them.
As the batter sizzles Buck steps over to the fridge again, though this time he grabs a pen and scribbles ‘blueberries’ in his god awful handwriting. Then, after a second thought, he adds ‘fruit’ underneath. “I might go to the farmers market too, their fruit is better,” he says, talking to himself.
Then he steps back over to the stove and gets back to rambling about his tres leches cake.
“Maddie keeps asking for one- well, she says the baby’s asking for one, but I think she’s using my nephew to swindle baked goods from me,” he points the end of the whisk at Eddie, his brows pulling into a frown as batter drips from it onto the floor. He makes quick work of wiping it up with the end of his apron before he’s back to talking.
Eddie thinks he’s never looked cuter, or more at home.
“I’ll let it slide because I’m sure he wants it too, but something’s telling me he’s not the only one. And Pepa said you and Chris like a tres leches cake every now and then too, so I might as well perfect it for you guys..”
Buck continues rambling. Something about the car tires he thinks, they’re getting a little low. But he can’t really pinpoint what exactly Buck’s saying, because he’s stuck on the domesticity of it all.
Everything Buck's talking about is something partners do for each other. Something people who are in love do for each other. It’d make sense if Eddie were doing those things for Buck, because Eddie has come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with him, but Buck is talking about doing them for Eddie. Talking about doing things for Eddie like he’s in love with Eddie.
Like they’re married, living together, and co-parenting. Sharing a home, a life, and a family.
He wants all of it.
But more than anything he wants to kiss Buck.
Needs to kiss him, actually.
So can he really be blamed for just jumping the gun and doing so? For pushing past his elaborate plan to reveal his feelings over a nice, intimate dinner? Or something similar, he hasn’t exactly worked out all the details yet, but it doesn’t really matter now, does it?
No he doesn’t think so.
Buck’s still talking as Eddie approaches him, but his back is to him now. His massive fucking back that Eddie wants to mark with- No! Focus Eddie!
His back is to Eddie, so he doesn’t see him step closer. He focuses on flipping the now cooked pancake onto a plate as he goes on and on about… laundry? Eddie doesn’t know- something about getting Chris to separate his whites from his colours so he doesn’t accidentally dye everything red again.
Eddie will ask about it later, because he’s sure it’s likely somewhat important, but he can’t bring himself to process it right now.
Instead, he gently takes the bowl from Buck’s hand before he can add more batter to the pan. Buck stutters over his words, coming to a stop to ask, “wait, I’m not done, what are you doing with the batter?” Eddie doesn’t answer.
The bowl gets set on the counter, then he turns off the stove. Next he unties the apron from around Buck’s waist and pulls it up over his head. He ignores Buck’s confused protests and throws the apron over the back of the chair at the table.
Ooh, that’s a good idea actually, he thinks. Then he steers Buck over to that same chair and pulls it far away from the table with a muttered “c’mere Buck, sit.”
Buck does as he’s told, sinking into the chair slowly. His head is tilted back so that he can look Eddie in the eyes as he sends him the biggest blow to the fucking heart he can muster. His eyes are so wide, so filled with innocent confusion, but still so trusting and pliant, willing to follow Eddie’s every instruction even when he has no idea what’s going on.
He’s so fucking adorable, so pretty.
Eddie’s helpless but to follow him down, crawling right into his lap.
Buck’s eyes grow even wider, growing with alarmed confusion, but interestingly not with disinterest, as he stutters around his words. A gasped ‘oh’ falling from his lips as his hands come up to hold Eddie by the waist. The heat of his palms on Eddie’s skin, even through his uniform, is sending him dizzy.
He tries not to dwell on it as he settles onto Buck’s lap, but he finds himself chasing Buck’s touch regardless.
His heart thuds in his chest, and he’s suddenly overcome with fear at the thought of Buck rejecting him right now. Of how embarrassing it would be to have to crawl from his lip, dejected as Buck no doubt tries to let him down easy.
But he tries to ignore it, tries to tell himself that that would never happen. His left hand comes up to rest on the side of Buck’s neck, just where it meets his shoulder. The other brings gentle fingers to gently tilt his head up. He holds him still, Buck’s chin caught between his fingers as he tries to get a read for Buck’s opinion on what’s happening.
Buck’s blinking up at him, looking back and forth between his eyes and his lips, like he’s too scared to move. Like he’s somehow reading this wrong. Eddie’s not sure how that’s possible considering he’s all but commandeered Buck’s lap for the moment. Though he can’t say he’s shocked that Buck’s clearly holding himself back from taking what he wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt Eddie’s feelings.
When he sees no disgust, no apprehension or argument, he leans incrementally closer, until they’re a hair’s breadth away from kissing. He hears the way Buck’s breath catches in his chest, and the hitch has his lips tugging up into a fond smile.
The brush of Buck’s lips against his own has his head spinning. It’s so intoxicating, so enlightening, that Eddie’s pissed he’s never sought them out before. When he realises they’re breathing the same air he gets a sudden headrush. Their noses graze as Eddie presses in as close as he can get without physically crawling inside of his best friend.
The thought alone has Eddie yearning for more. He wants to be able to do that, to be able to crawl inside of Buck to take his beating heart in his hand. To caress Buck’s soul and show it all the love it’s been missing. To be so close with Buck, so intertwined, that they become one. So they fuse together and become one entity.
He has to physically reel himself in and pull his mind back from these types of thoughts before he decides to do something stupid and dangerous, like crawl inside of Buck’s sweats so they can share them.
Buck’s plump lips look so tantalising, so inviting, that Eddie can’t help but to finally take them with his own. His eyes close as he ducks his head down, suddenly overcome with the desperate need to taste Buck on his own lips.
Buck gasps against his mouth, but quickly gains his sense enough to reciprocate.
His eyes shut to match Eddies. Eddie only knows because he can feel Buck’s lashes against his cheeks as his lids flutter.
The kiss is feather-light. A barely there graze. A soft meeting of lips that lasts only a heartbeat before they instinctively pull apart again.
Eddie looks between Buck’s eyes, waiting trepidatiously for his reaction.
His eyes are glistening with unshed tears, leaving Eddie’s heart racing with fear. Fuck. Has he messed up? Has he crossed a line?
Just as he’s about to crawl from Buck’s lap and apologise, make up some lie about being half asleep, Buck rushes forward and connects their lips again.
Eddie groans as his grip tightens on Buck’s jaw, holding him as gently as he can while maintaining their closeness. His thumb brushes gently across Buck’s cheek, needing to feel the pretty pink flush for himself. He’s so soft, so warm, under Eddie’s hands.
Buck’s hands tighten on him in return, using his grip on Eddie’s waist to pull him ever closer. Buck sits up straighter, moving them so that they’re pressed together completely.
Buck’s heart beats against Eddie’s own, their chests pressed together beautifully. Eddie’s not sure why he suddenly imagines each of his ribs interlocking with Buck’s, the same way their fingers would tangle together if they held hands, but he does. And he’s suddenly distraught that they can’t do that.
Buck gives a gentle hum as Eddie’s lips move against his. Eddie sighs in response, relief flooding his chest.
Finally.
His fingers thread through Buck’s hair, getting tangled in the curls. They’re so soft, and they elicit the most beautiful sound from Buck when Eddie tugs on them the slightest bit. Eddie uses his hold on Buck’s hair to tilt his head to the side, deepening the kiss.
He whimpers as Buck’s tongue runs across his bottom lip, then opens his mouth to let him in.
Butterflies swarm his stomach as Buck’s tongue tangles with his own. He tastes faintly of the strawberries he had in his own pancakes.
Which means he’d already eaten his breakfast and still made sure to make Eddie some. He’s always looking after Eddie; always so good to him.
God he loves him.
The realisation has Eddie deepening the kiss, turning it hungrier, filthier. Their mouths move quicker against each other, desperation leaking in as they tilt their heads from left to right.
They move in sync, like they’ve done this a million times before, practically devouring each other. Moans, groans and a cacophony of other glorious sounds are shared between them, echoing in the otherwise quiet kitchen. Eddie soaks each one up.
He nips at Buck’s lips, taking great delight in the whines it pulls from him. Eddie pulls back, pulling at Buck’s lip before he lets it snap back into place. They’re both breathing heavily, and they share a moment of silence as Buck asks, “What- what was that for?”
He moves his kisses down Buck’s neck, then growls “because you’re talking like you’re my fucking husband; all this domestic shit. Tryna be my housewife, Buckley?" he asks, gently nipping at the skin of his neck.
Buck’s responding whimper is even more high pitched than the last. A desperate keen is torn from his throat, and he finds himself tilting his head to the side to give Eddie more room to work. Eddie sucks a deep mark into Buck’s skin with a smirk.
He pulls off with a pop, then smiles as he admires his work. Then Buck grabs him by the jaw and drags their mouths back together. The smacking sound of their lips meeting has heat building between Eddie’s legs, but he ignores it. They don’t have time for it.
Instead he focuses on derailing Buck’s mind with his mouth alone.
And it seems to be working, because after a few more minutes of frenzied kissing with desperate vigour, he pulls away and Buck’s eyes are hazy and his breathing is ragged. He whines at the loss of Eddie’s touch, and starts petulantly clawing at Eddie’s waist, doing his best to drag Eddie’s lips back to his own again.
Eddie giggles at his desperation, taking immense thrill at watching Buck squirm.
Buck doesn’t seem to appreciate it.
When his efforts to pull Eddie in fail, he instead chooses to simply stand. Considering the fact that Eddie was sitting in his lap, Buck’s sudden movement takes Eddie up with him.
He gives a shocked ‘woah!’ as he’s suddenly lifted, flailing in an attempt to grab onto Buck to steady himself. He grunts as he’s put down on the table, and it creaks as it takes his weight.
Buck moves to stand between his legs, crowding him. He looms over him, and Eddie doesn’t even have time to get flustered before Buck leans back in.
Buck’s right hand comes up to gently wrap around Eddie’s neck. His breath catches in his throat, the pads of Buck’s fingers pressing into his pulse point. His heart races as Buck tilts his head, getting a better angle to fuck his tongue into Eddie’s mouth.
Buck’s other hand clasps his thigh in a steady grip.
Eddie fists one of his hands in Buck’s hair, holding him close. His other wraps around Buck’s waist so that he can scratch at his back. Buck hisses at the sting, but when Eddie pulls back he sees just how much Buck seems to like it.
Then he brings his legs up to wrap around Buck’s waist. He pulls him in as closely as he can, tangling their tongues together with a wet smack.
Eddie groans when he feels vibrations coming from his pocket, then a split second later the most obnoxious noise on the planet fills the room. A shrill ring. Loud twinkling sounds emanate from his pants.
They pull apart and share deep breaths. Eddie rests his forehead against Buck’s, smiling into the minimal space between them as he digs through his pocket for his phone.
When he pulls it out, he sees the familiar alarm screen.
He ends the alarm, then rolls his eyes when he sees the time. 7:40. His shift starts at 8, and in L.A traffic it’s going to take him at least 15 minutes to drive to work.
He has to leave now if he doesn’t want to be late.
With a frustrated grumble he tucks his phone back into his pocket, then turns to look at Buck.
He’s pouting adorably; confused as he looks between Eddie and where he’s just put away his phone. “What?” he asks, his words barely a whisper.
Eddie smirks, just a little.
He turns to send Buck a giddy smile.
He grabs him by the cheeks, chuckling as it forces Buck’s lips into a pout. Buck sends him a frown, even more confused that his pout.
Eddie pulls him in to kiss him again.
It's a long, drawn out peck. A harsh press of lips that he hums into. Then he sighs, a happy, giddy rush of air from his lungs, and pulls back.
There’s a wet smack as their lips separate, and a string of spit connects them. Eddie licks his lips, snapping the connection, leaving it to drip down onto Buck’s chin.
Buck’s eyes are hazy. He looks kiss drunk and barely coherent.
Perfect.
“You don’t seem to be in any condition to drive right now, sweetheart,” he says.
Buck bluescreens just a little, then stutters, “uh, y-yeah. I. I guess not?”
Eddie nods, then pushes Buck back slightly so that he has enough room to stand. Buck flushes as they stand toe to toe, and Eddie leans in close enough that their noses brush. “Now, I gotta go, or I’ll be late. See you tomorrow, Bud.”
He pats Buck on the cheek twice, holding back a laugh as he watches Buck flinch at the unexpected touch.
Buck looks so very confused, then says “Wait- what?!” as Eddie makes his way to the kitchen door.
“I have a shift, remember?” he says, smirking.
“But- Eddie?!” he says with an incredulous laugh, holding his arms out as if to say ‘what the fuck are we doing?’ His smile is contagious, and Eddie finds himself returning it tenfold.
“Starts in 20! I’m gonna be late!” he says, waving over-obnoxiously as he grabs his keys and heads out the door.
Buck’s left standing in the kitchen, bewildered with his sweats tenting.
Quiet laps around him. Then he speaks to the empty house. “You forgot the pasta bake…”