Work Text:
can i go inside you? how can i make you feel safe? could i hold your hand? can i put my fingers here?
Eddie has received many middle-of-the-night texts from Buck throughout the years that they’ve been friends — very few of them have had any sort of urgency to them, varying from Buck leaving a link to an article he thinks Eddie (or Chris) will like, a lengthy voice-note about his current train of thought, or shooting Eddie an idea he’s worried he’ll forget if he doesn’t write it down somewhere.
Sometimes, at midnight, Eddie just gets a text that says Baking soda.
Essentially, Buck uses his text message chain with Eddie like a notes app, despite the fact he knows Buck thoroughly abuses the notes app in his phone with jotted-down thoughts, half-sentences and a myriad of lists with no titles.
So, at two am when Eddie is supposed to be asleep, but is in fact folding his laundry and half-watching an infomercial about knives that’s playing on the TV, he doesn’t leap for his phone when it vibrates for his attention. It’s probably nothing. It’s always nothing. He’ll read it later, probably send back a thumbs up emoji or, if it’s a voice-note, listen to it while smiling to himself, then try not to think about how much he likes the sound of Buck’s voice.
Sometimes, during bouts of particularly unkind insomnia, he finds Buck’s lengthiest ones (the ones sent when Eddie was in Texas tend to be the largest, filled with the voices of the team in the back as Buck ducked away to ramble into his phone just for Eddie to hear), and sets it on the pillow next to him and falls asleep to the enthusiastic ramblings of his best friend. It’s almost like they’re living together again — a time Eddie misses more than he cares to admit.
The routine is normal, Eddie thinks. It’s very normal, which is why he’ll never tell anyone about it. Ever.
It’s between him, his phone, the empty side of his bed, and a god Eddie doesn’t even believe in. Whatever.
Tonight isn't an insomnia night—just a side effect of his weird schedule and a backlog in the laundry room, with an entire week's worth of clothes that’d been calling his name. He's most of the way through it now, following the same oddly soothing routine: fold the shirt in half, fold one sleeve over the other, then fold it once, twice, three times before setting it neatly on the growing pile.
He didn’t even know he owned so many shirts.
Halfway through a well-worn shirt that he thinks he’s had since he was in his teens that has a very egregiously large hole in the left armpit, his phone buzzes again. And again.
Okay. Maybe Buck’s making a list.
He does the first, then the second fold, then his phone buzzes three more times. Eddie’s Buck version of a Spidey sense tingles, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He finishes the last fold, dumps it to the side and fishes his phone out of the laundry basket.
BUCK (WORK): SOS
Eddie
R u up
Eddie
It’s an emergency
Heart thundering, Eddie taps the call button and presses it to his ear. It rings, rings, rings and then the line goes dead, the call left unanswered. Eddie’s on his feet, keys in hand and forcing his feet into half-tied shoes before he even realises he’s stood up. He presses the call button again, but this time it ends on the first ring. Fuck, has someone taken Buck’s phone? Buck always picks up unless something is seriously wrong.
He thumbs over to the text conversation.
EDDIE: Call me
BUCK (WORK): No nonononon not that kind of emergency
Can’t call. Theo asleep on my stomach. If he wakes up all hell will break loose.
An exhale whooshes out of Eddie’s lungs as he pauses at the doorway, fingers clutched around the handle so tight that if he pulled, it would probably snap out of the wood.
EDDIE: You’re ok?
BUCK (WORK): Yes. no one is dying sorry sorry
It’s a dad emergency
Retracting his hand, Eddie lets his shoulders sag, all the panic slowly bleeding out of his body.
EDDIE: What’s up?
BUCK (WORK): So you know the pizza place next to the car dealership
I took theo there because I wanted him to experience the fine cuisine of their premium Hawaiian pizza
Eddie rolls his eyes, meandering back over to the couch, shoes still crooked but on as he drops against the cushions.
BUCK (WORK): the car dealership had the tube guy
Which is fine
But theo loved the tube guy
We sat down and watched it and ate pizza for a while. It was fun
But he loved the tube guy, eddie
He said he wants the tube guy to come to his party
He said he wants only tube guys at his party. He wants a tube guy themed party, Eddie
The party is in two days Eddie
Do you know how many fire extinguisher decorations I bought? Do you know how hard it is to find fire extinguisher-themed birthday decorations?
He explicitly requested them
And now he only wants tube guy
I said maybe next year and he started crying. He cried so much
He fell asleep like ten minutes ago still sniffling against my stomach
Do you know how hard it is to get a tube guy to rent with two days' notice
It’s hard, Eddie
And he wants multiple. He wants to fill my backyard with tube guys
Help
In all his kindness, Eddie doesn’t laugh. He does, however, snort and cover his mouth with his hand, despite no one being nearby to witness the curve of amusement at the corner of his mouth.
He missed a lot of moments like this with Chris, too busy running from his own fear of being a failure and a disappointment to be there at all, but he remembers the arguments like these — the unwinnable ones.
He’s not surprised to see Buck crumble under the devastating big, wet eyes and pouting combo — Theo’s able to wield it just as effectively as Buck does. Eddie’s fallen victim to it dozens of times over the years, despite the immunity he swears he’s built up.
EDDIE: Okay, take a breath
We’ll figure something out
Did you call the dealership you guys were at?
BUCK (WORK): Yes obviously Eddie I’m not stupid
Sorry
Yes
EDDIE: Ok. I’m gonna take care of this first thing in the morning, alright?
How many inflatable tubes do you need?
BUCK (WORK): Eddie, there are no tube guys available in the entire fucking state
I’m gonnadie
It’s his first birthday without his Connor and Kameron and he’s gonna hate it
And it’s all my fault
Heart aching, Eddie fiddles with his keys, ready to drive over and pull Buck into his arms till Buck’s pulse and breathing turn steady. He knows Buck’s probably lying there, his kid splayed on top of him, trying so hard to keep it together so he doesn’t disturb his slumber. Eddie’s heart aches. Every time something happens with them, Eddie feels a pang of guilt that he’s not there.
He feels like he should be there — that he’s letting Buck down by not being able to provide physical comfort, or even just physical presence.
EDDIE: Hey, breathe, Buck
He’s going to have a great birthday
You trust me?
BUCK (WORK): Yeah :(
EDDIE: Leave it with me, ok?
You figure out the cake, I’ll figure out the tubes. Team work.
God. The cake. The perfect fire extinguisher-shaped cake Buck made yesterday. God, Eddie's gonna have a lot of cake to eat after the party. To help, of course.
BUCK (WORK): I don’t wanna let him down
He cried so much man
I don’t want him to cry on his birthday
I know what it’s like to have a bad birthday when you’re a kid
It sticks in your head forever
Well, that’s a can of worms Eddie will pry open later. He adds another strike on his mental list against the Buckley parents, who likely were the cause of said bad birthday. Eddie has no evidence other than everything he knows about them, and every story from Buck’s childhood.
EDDIE: Get some rest, Buck
I got your back
BUCK (WORK): Okay
Yeah okay
Text me tomorrow
EDDIE: You got it
Laundry abandoned, Eddie shoots off a few emails to rental companies, pleading for any stock they have available — but as he crawls into bed, he’s already planning ahead just in case those fall through. He won’t let his Buckley’s down.
Teeth gritted and eyes focused forward, Eddie walks straight past the large, red and white inflatable tube outside the car dealership. The scent of the firing pizza oven next door wafts toward them — that’s his next stop. Mostly because he promised Chris a slice if he came along with him. Christopher crutches in behind him, hot on Eddie’s heels, pizza likely at the front of his mind.
A bright-toothed salesman approaches them quickly. His hair is jelled down so much Eddie thinks he could bounce a coin off of it.
Eddie is, admittedly, wearing his uniform despite the fact his shift is several hours away. Look, he doesn’t use being a firefighter to score him points often, but it’s for Buck. There’s not much Eddie wouldn’t do.
“Good morning.” The salesman — Pete, from his shiny, golden name-tag — says as he sticks a hand out for Eddie to shake. “How can I help you fine folks today?”
And look — maybe Eddie lays on the story thick, his voice low and private as he explains the year Theo’s had, and that he knows it’s not something they’d normally do, but it’d make a little kid’s entire year to be able to have it at his party to celebrate.
By the end of Eddie’s little speech, Pete is teary-eyed and has a hand flat over his own heart.
“Oh, man,” Pete exhales, wiping at his eye. “What a brave little kiddo. Your partner taking him in…”
Okay. Eddie might’ve stretched the truth a little there.
“You guys are an inspiration. True heroes,” Pete adds, waving someone over with the free hand that’s not currently resting against his sternum. “We’re allies here at CarMax. Our manager, Katie, she’s a lesbian.”
Oh. Oh no. That’s not—
In Eddie’s periphery, he sees Christopher put a hand over his mouth, fighting an impending giggle. It’s not the first time it’s been suggested that Buck and Eddie are together, and it’s not even the first time it’s happened in front of Christopher. Eddie’s cheeks heat, a correction hot on his tongue but stuck behind the jail of his teeth as a lady with a clean bob walks up.
“Hey, Peter, what’s going on over here?” She says, chirpy as ever, unaware of the tears welling in Pete’s eyes and the muddled misunderstanding unfolding.
Eddie’s eyes flick down to her badge. Katie. Oh no. She’s the lesbian. Eddie’s— he’s well aware he was guilting them into lending him a tube for a sad, recently orphaned kid, but he did not know he was guilting them gayly. He didn’t mean to do this gayly. It’s just easier to describe Buck as his partner, because they were that for years, and co-worker just doesn’t have the same ring to it, and best friend in the situation felt juvenile.
Eddie ran through the options in his head in the car and landed squarely on a safe partner.
And now here he is, accidentally doing something probably homophobic.
Not that he isn’t— he is gay. Eddie is undoubtedly not straight, probably gay. He’s still ironing out the details with both his therapist, himself, and Hen, as she patiently listens to him work through every gay thought he’s ever had that he chalked up to just normal straight things. Like feeling out of place his entire life the second romance came up in a room, or the inability to keep his eyes up rather than glued to the floor in any locker room he’s ever been in, or the burning urge at the back of his chest to lunge forward and kiss his best friend stupid every time he does something cute.
Unfortunately, Buck is always doing something cute. It’s tough out here.
Eddie’s gay, or queer, or— something. Not gay enough to be coming out to a car salesman he’s trying to rent a fucking inflatable tube from. Not gay enough to be Buck’s boyfriend (yet), but—
“Eddie here said that his partner, Buck, came by with his kid the other day and fell in love with Max out front,” explains Pete, gesturing toward the large window, Max the tube flailing wildly in the wind.
Katie smiles politely. “Yeah, he called us yesterday afternoon. Look, I’m sorry we can’t help, but we just don’t do that kind of thing. Max isn’t available for rent.”
Pete leans in closer, whispering into her ear, likely recounting Eddie’s very emotional speech, or at least snippets of it. Eddie’s whole body feels warm. His eyes flick over to Chris, who is no longer even listening. He seems— undisturbed. Uncaring. He had his little giggle about the assumption, but now, after a beat, he’s just moved on.
He doesn’t care.
Something loosens in Eddie’s chest that he hadn’t been willing to look at the knot of.
“Oh,” Katie exhales wetly, catching Eddie’s attention back. Her hand is flat over her heart just like Pete’s had been. “Oh, your— your partner didn’t mention that. Look, it’s definitely not something we do, and—”
She steps closer then, spare hand planting itself on Eddie’s bicep with a reassuring squeeze.
“I can’t make any promises about this, but I can call around to some local places we’ve got relationships with and see what strings I can pull. That kid deserves a good birthday, and we’ll do everything we can to help,” she promises, earnest and so, so kind. “Max will be there. Leave your details and the address with Pete, and I’ll drop it off first thing in the morning myself.”
Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief. The little stressed Buck in his ear sighs and collapses to his knees, grateful. “Thank you so much,” Eddie says, grabbing her hand from his arm and holding it in both hands. “We really appreciate it so much. You’re— yeah. Thank you so much. Whatever fee—”
She waves her free hand, scoffing dismissively, like she’s insulted at the mere idea of taking his money. “No, no. No fee. Max belongs to us, so he’s ours to offer up. If you can drop him off the next morning damage free, that’s all we can ask.”
Hey, Eddie can’t argue with that.
After exchanging information with Pete, Eddie and Chris head over to the pizza joint. Eddie doesn’t even say anything when Chris orders the hawaiian with extra pineapple. Eddie gets a slice of supreme, because he’s got functional taste buds and an understanding of what goes on pizzas.
They settle into a cosy booth, the midday sun softened by the tinted windows.
Having Chris around all the time again is something Eddie's still adjusting to—not in a bad way, just in a disbelieving one. After mistake after mistake, he'd been convinced the Kim fiasco had been the final straw. He'd worried Christopher would never come home, would never be like this with him again.
He thinks all that fear, all that regret, has stopped him from fully accepting it—that Chris is back, that he loves him, and that he's here to stay.
"It's good," Chris says around a mouthful of cheese, ham and pineapple. "We should come here all the time."
"Mouth closed when you're chewing, mijo," Eddie chides lightly, taking a long sip of his soda. "But yeah. It's good."
Rolling his eyes, Chris closes his mouth and finishes chewing on his bite.
Eddie glances down at his own pizza, only one bite taken out. Pulse stuttering, Eddie asks, “Does it bother you when people—” Think I’m gay. Eddie diverts, glancing up to catch Christopher’s eye. “—When they think I’m with Buck?” He finishes, aiming to keep his tone as neutral as possible. He thinks he manages.
Christopher blinks a couple times, then shrugs—a very stereotypical, barely-listening teenager shrug. “You’re usually with Buck. They’re not wrong.”
Huffing a laugh, Eddie nods. “Yeah, I guess so.”
A beat passes. Eddie wets his lips, forcing himself forward even as his instinct to runs begs him to take the out Chris has accidentally offered him. The version of Eddie who hadn’t lost Chris and left Buck behind would take it, the one that brought Chris home and found his way back to Buck stands his ground, braver than he’s ever been.
“But I mean…” He swallows thickly. “When people think Buck and I are dating. Does that bother you?”
Chris pauses in place, seemingly sensing the seriousness of the conversation despite Eddie’s attempt at keeping it light. He’s always been in tune with that kind of thing. He’s the smartest kid.
“Dad,” he starts, “You know I’m not homophobic, right?”
“Yeah, yes. Of course. Yeah—” Eddie imagines a sixteen year old version of himself, one who flinched at the word queer being tossed around in every locker room he was ever in, never aimed at him—but always at someone like him, someone just like him. He thinks that version of him would balk and choke at the idea of someone assuming someone he knew was gay. Would cover for them, lying through his teeth if he had to. But Chris doesn’t care.
He's open-minded, growing up around all kinds of people, unconcerned with who anyone loves. Eddie wonders if Christopher ever even had to think about it, whether he'd ever had to untangle any of the shame or fear Eddie carried for years. He hopes not. He hopes acceptance came as naturally as breathing. It’s all he’s ever tried to give Chris — an open mind, a kind heart, a welcoming warmth.
"I know," Eddie says at last, reining in his spiralling thoughts. "I just... I know it happened more when you were little. People assumed things. But it never bothered you? It's okay if it did."
Christopher’s eyes flick over Eddie’s face, seeking, searching. "Never," he says simply. "I love Buck."
Eddie nods slowly, eyes and head ducking down. “Yeah, good. So…” Silence stretches. He feels like he pauses for an hour. A day. A lifetime. He never thought he'd make it here— that he’d be the kind of man who could come out to his kid, that could even consider it an option in the first place. And here he is, cupping the truth in his tongue, finally ready to let it spill.
"So if I were to date again," he says carefully, "and it were a guy—"
“It’s okay if you’re gay, Dad,” Chris cuts in, right as he takes another egregiously large mouthful of pizza. He eats just like Buck does, carefree, messy. There’s a smear of sauce on his cheek, red and stark against his pale skin, Eddie fights the instinct to reach over and wipe it away for him, well aware his hands are trembling. Chris chews, unfortunately open-mouthed, as he says, “You’re still my dad.”
A thick layer of clay and disguise Eddie’s been wearing his entire life, heavy and loaded with unmet expectations, cracks right down the middle. Little spiderwebs of fractures spread, like they do as a building slowly crumples during an earthquake. The foundations of Eddie’s fears (set in cement so long ago he’s not even sure who put them there) suddenly tremble, shaking as the clay and fear falls away, landing in piles of dust on the floor.
Eddie exhales.
Aiming for unaffected, and likely missing by several voice-quivering miles, Eddie says, “Yeah? It’s okay, you know, if you need a second.”
“Dad, I don’t need a second,” Chris responds easily. “Just as long as you don’t date any of my teachers again. That was weird.”
Eddie is grateful that’s the weird part of Eddie’s dating history Christopher’s decided to use in this moment. They’ve apparently gotten to the point in healing where Chris shoots off snarky — but admittedly very funny — comments about Kim from time to time.
A laugh knocks loose from Eddie’s chest. “Yeah, buddy. I promise to never date one of your teachers again.”
“You can date Buck, though,” Chris clarifies, “that’d be pretty cool.”
Eddie smiles down at his own hands, noticing just how steady they suddenly are — maybe the steadiest they’ve been in years. “Yeah,” he agrees, “It’d be pretty cool.”
The second Eddie walks through the bay doors, Buck pops up like a whack-a-mole, almost sending Eddie straight through the roof. For such a big guy, Buck can be light on his feet when he wants to be. Well, actually, when he tries, he usually ends up moving around like a bull in a china shop, it’s when he doesn’t intend to sneak that he has Eddie jumping out of his skin.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie grumbles, shoving Buck’s shoulder. “Where did you even come from?”
Buck, who for once in his life actually has his feet planted firmly, doesn't budge an inch. Usually, even a playful shove from Eddie has him stumbling back a step or two.
“Did you get them?” Buck asks, the words rushing out of him in a single breath, so quick that he’s surprised the consonants and vowels don’t trip over each other on the way off Buck’s tongue.
“I told you I would, bud,” Eddie says, hand finding Buck’s shoulder and squeezing in a way he hopes is reassuring or grounding — he’ll take low level comforting at this point. “I’m sorting it out.”
Buck does not look settled by this. “He cried all the way to daycare, Eddie.”
It’s then that Eddie notices the deep shadows beneath Buck’s eyes, purple and dark. Eddie’s fingers twitch against Buck’s shoulder as he smothers the urge to drag a thumb across the exhausted hollows of them.
“Hey,” Eddie says, voice softening, “I’m waiting for a call from someone about a couple extra, but I already got a handful confirmed.”
Eddie’s hand lingers there, warm and weighted against Buck’s shoulder. He kind of wishes he could always have one hand on Buck (glued or seen there, he's not picky), even if the thought is nonsensical, greedy, and probably very codependent. He feels when the tight line of those shoulders sags with relief, the muscles loosening beneath Eddie’s fingertips.
“Thank you,” Buck manages, suddenly sounding just as exhausted as he looks, like it’s all hit him at once in a wave. “Thank you. You’re— Eddie.”
“Yeah, man,” Eddie says, letting his mouth curl up at the corner. He drags Buck in by his shoulder and wraps his arms around him. Buck does not so much return the hug as collapse against Eddie like a long-limbed sack of potatoes, but Eddie shoulders the weight easily. “I’m Eddie.”
Buck scoffs against Eddie’s collarbone, but Eddie swears he can feel him smiling too.
“You’re so stupid,” Buck huffs, all fondness. Eddie’s chest burns with affection beneath the press of Buck’s face. The hug lasts just a few beats longer before Buck collects himself, straightens up and lets out a steadying puff of air.
“You okay?” Eddie checks, eyes flicking over Buck’s shoulder to where Chim is eyeing them over the loft railing before returning to Buck’s relieved, but sleepy face.
Nodding, Buck shoots him a tired smile. “Yeah.” He looks at Eddie for a second longer, something softening at the corners of his eyes and mouth, his bottom lip jutting out just slightly. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”
Something half-dormant in Eddie’s heart thumps to life with a jolt. He knows he’s said those exact words to Buck dozens of times over the years, gratitude rooting itself in bone deep as he realises just how far Buck would go for him, just how much Buck loves him.
Eddie has such a strong urge to grab Buck by the front of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss that he has to bite down on his tongue hard enough to hurt to stop himself.
Being very brave, Eddie just nods, ignoring the Kiss Buck thoughts bouncing around like pinballs in his head, dinging against his skull. “Don’t worry, Buck,” says Eddie, voice even despite the emotion welling in Eddie’s throat. He pats Buck’s arm, then, managing a promise he means so much it aches, “You’ll never have to find out.”
Blindly trusting, Buck nods like he believes him. No one’s ever trusted him as easily, faithfully and unfalteringly as Buck does. Eddie doesn’t know how he got lucky enough to meet, know, and love Evan Buckley.
There’s not much Eddie wouldn’t do for Buck, and by extension, Theo — but rocking up at Buck’s house at seven in the morning and setting up twelve separate inflatable tubes with weirdly enthusiastic faces, all of which are now flapping in the wind and unsettlingly staring down at Eddie like they’re trying to seek unblinking eye contact with him — feels like it’s reaching his limit.
He thinks he’d rather just take a bullet for him, despite the fact he’s caught enough of those for a lifetime.
Katie, the manager of CarMax, came through in ways Eddie couldn’t have predicted. She made her calls and organised for Eddie to drive around town, collecting the machines for the day from several different locations, with various different coloured inflatables.
Meaning, Buck’s backyard is now a rainbow of flapping, uncontrollable limbs. The noise is, admittedly, mildly overstimulating, but he’s sure that’ll dull down when it’s covered by the overstimulating noise of children screeching and yelling instead.
Theo is still asleep, unaware of the dream birthday awaiting him just outside Buck’s backyard doors. Buck has not seen Eddie’s haul in full, too busy working away in the kitchen and adding the final touches to all the snack plates he’s prepared.
Eddie is admittedly most excited about those.
While bent over, adjusting the last of the cables and ensuring they’re safely taped down to avoid wandering little toddler hands, Eddie hears the back doors swing open.
Then, with a squeal that Eddie’s surprised doesn’t wake up the neighbourhood dogs, Theo screams, “They came!”
When Eddie turns, Buck is there behind him, grinning so wide it hurts as Theo claps his hands together before taking off, completely ignoring Eddie’s presence in favour of running at max speed in circles in front of the inflatable tubes.
Theo stops in front of the red and white one, eyes suddenly wide and mouth agape.
“Max,” he breathes, reverent and awed.
Eddie closes the short distance, crouching beside Theo before nudging their shoulders together gently. He’s just as bad at planting his feet as Buck is, but he seems firm in place today, rooted in front of his tube friend.
“Yeah, buddy,” says Eddie, “They came just for your birthday. And all your friends from school will be here soon.”
Theo lights up at that. “And kiss?”
This, tear-jerkingly, is Theo’s current way of pronouncing Chris. Eddie grins at him.
“Yeah, Chris is coming, too. He’s just still asleep at home. I’m gonna go get him in a minute.” Eddie reaches up and ruffles Theo’s untamed, sleep-rumpled hair. “You gotta keep your Buck company in the kitchen while I’m gone.”
Very seriously, Theo nods, turning on his heels and abandoning his beloved circle of slightly-demonic inflatable friends and sprinting full force in Buck’s direction, screeching what sounds like “Soup chef!”
Eddie blinks a couple times, then catches Buck’s eye, and raises an eyebrow as he mouths Soup? Buck is looking at him so warmly that Eddie feels like melting butter on the counter on a summer’s day beneath his gaze.
Buck looks in love with him. It soothes over Eddie’s warm skin like a cooling balm.
Eddie will tell him soon, he thinks. So damn soon.
Buck smiles as Theo runs past him, clarifying, “Sous chef. He’s my little helper.”
Suddenly, a loud clanging noise sounds, then a crash. Buck spins on his heels, sprinting away just as quick as Theo had. Eddie shakes his head fondly, grinning as he grabs his keys from a camp chair and pockets them. He sneaks out through the side gate, drives back home to collect Chris (who is sleepy, but at least dressed) and Theo’s birthday present, which couldn’t fit in the car with all of Eddie’s acquired tube machines.
The party goes off as smoothly as it can. Eddie ends up doing face-painting after the face-painter cancelled, but he’s only really capable of what is kind of a butterfly and a Spider-Man mask. He’s weirdly good at the Spider-Man mask, he finds out, as he perches on a tiny chair and paints Theo’s face. Theo only ends up with most of a mask, because he won’t sit still long enough for Eddie to finish, but it’s good enough.
Buck sits down last, looking like a giant as he sits on the tiny child-sized stool.
“Hey,” Buck puffs, flushed warm in the face from herding kids all afternoon. He’s always been a little bit of a border collie — it’s cute to watch him try and control his giggling, knee-height flock.
Eddie smiles at him. The rest of the party's loud noise dulls down; Buck’s breathing, voice, and pleased face are all that he can notice.
“Hi.”
Glancing down at Eddie’s very limited paint set, Buck asks, “Can I have a dog?”
“You can be— Spider-Dog?” Eddie offers. He’s not sure he’s got much going for him other than the webbing.
Buck laughs, shifting his weight and knocking their knees together. “Yeah, okay.”
With careful hands, Eddie sponges the red over Buck’s face, hand tender as it cups his jaw and holds him still. He’s so much closer than he probably needs to be, Buck’s breathing a warm puff against his mouth on every exhale. At some point, he catches Buck staring down at Eddie’s mouth, pupils blowing, but neither of them does a thing.
It’s not the time, not the place.
Eddie paints a little dog nose over the now-routine Spider-Man mask and then paints some white whiskers along his cheeks. It’s not good. Objectively. But Buck is smiling at him like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen as Eddie holds up the mirror Maddie lent him to show the kids their final looks.
“You’re all done,” says Eddie, discarding his brush and sponge into the mug of water, grateful to be done with his task.
“Thanks,” Buck says, the tips of his ears pinkening. “For um, yeah. For everything.”
Eddie knocks his knee against Buck’s. He leaves it there, a point of contact, warm and purposeful. “Anytime.”
“Everyone should be leaving soon.” Buck glances around at the already dwindling numbers. Maddie and Chimney departed with a sleeping Nash and a Spider-Jee about twenty minutes ago, while the rest of their loved ones are packing up and assisting in the clean-up. “Chris is still in my room, I think.”
Eddie knows. Chris, while extremely patient and sweet with younger kids, had had enough an hour or so ago and is parked in Buck’s room with his Switch with the door locked. Eddie hadn’t even asked Buck — the second he’d clocked Chris fading across the garden, Buck was already jogging over and leading him inside.
Meanwhile, Eddie had to jump up mid-butterfly to get Theo down from a tree he’d somehow managed to scale in the thirty seconds Buck’s back had been turned.
They have each other's backs, always filling in when needed without hesitation.
“Yeah, I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.” He glances toward Buck’s closed bedroom doors. Chris is probably taking a nap by now, sprawled out like a starfish on Buck’s large bed.
“Theo asked if you guys could have a sleepover.” Buck’s gaze averts as he says it, suddenly shy. “I, uh– I said I’d ask. I’m sure you’re—”
Eddie presses the joint of his knee harder against Buck’s, catching his attention. He looks up. Eddie reaches over, planting a hand on his knee and squeezing once. “I’ll check with Chris but— yeah. ‘Course. You’re setting up the blow-up, though.”
Eddie’s had enough of inflatable devices for a lifetime. To his left, one flaps aggressively, blowing in the wind.
Pleased, Buck nods easily, his hand suddenly drifting rest on his own thigh, fingers just a breath away from Eddie’s. He swears he can feel the heat of them. “I was thinking—”
Eddie inches his fingers closer. The tip of his index finger touches the side of Buck’s middle one. “That’s dangerous.”
Rolling his eyes, Buck lifts his other leg and kicks Eddie’s foot, scuffing his boot. Eddie doesn’t even try to bite down on the grin that splits open his face.
“As I was saying,” he continues, “I could fold out the couch for Chris, and, um— you could crash with me. Your back hates the blow-up.”
Heart stumbling clumsily over the next beat, Eddie freezes. He feels the sudden need to retract his hand to pinch himself, but he’d rather die than break the contact. For the time they lived together, it was Eddie that had to bully Buck into sharing with him, Buck always the martyr when it comes to sleeping arrangements.
But here Buck is, offering the other side of his bed in what could be nothing but—
But Eddie doesn’t think it is. Thinks he knows Buck better than he knows himself. This is Buck’s big move. His terrified, cautious, big move.
Still beaming, Eddie adjusts his hand, the tops of a few of his fingers resting atop Buck’s. Buck glances down at the point of contact, exhaling a breath it looks like he’s been holding for minutes. Slowly, Buck shifts his hand further under Eddie’s, letting the width of Eddie’s fingers swallow his own up.
“I love you, y’know,” Eddie murmurs, quiet and private between them. Buck’s eyes snap up, comedically wide as they meet Eddie’s. They soften slowly, Buck’s mouth opening and closing like a fish a few times before he just nods.
“Yeah,” Buck exhales, slipping his foot between Eddie’s, pressing their legs together — foot to knee. “Yeah, I know.”
Eddie nods, shifting his index finger to rub subtly at the top of Buck’s digits, still trying to keep the moment safe between them — well aware wandering eyes are probably flicking their way.
“Tell me again tonight,” Buck whispers, voice thick with heavy emotion. “So I can kiss you about it, okay?”
Cheeks suddenly hot, Eddie bites down on his bottom lip, feeling like a giddy teenager. His stomach flutters at the mere idea of their mouths slotting together, of the taste of Buck ripe and rich on his tongue — he’s not sure how he’s going to be able to survive the real thing. His eyes flick down to Buck’s mouth, plush, pink, and calling to him like a siren song. Very bravely, Eddie doesn’t kiss him in the middle of his kid’s birthday party, but it’s a close thing.
“You got it, bud,” he promises.
Once the kids are tucked into bed and asleep (well, Theo is knocked out, Chris is pretending he’s asleep and reading on his phone under his blanket, but Eddie doesn’t mind. It’s been a big day), Buck drags Eddie by the wrist to his bedroom, shutting the door and locking it before backing Eddie right up against it.
Heart suddenly thundering like a thousand horses are galloping in his chest, Eddie looks up at him — Suddenly, so, so aware at how close Buck is as he dips in. He doesn’t kiss him, tragically, he just looks at him, looking half-terrified, half-thrilled.
Eddie gets it.
“You have to say it,” urges Buck. “The– you have to say it again.”
Eddie lifts a hand, planting it against Buck’s hip over his shirt. Buck’s gaze never leaves his.
“Say what?” Eddie queries, just to be annoying.
Buck huffs like an annoyed dog whose ball is sitting unthrown by its owner’s feet. “Eddie.”
Hand drifting upward to rest in the small of Buck’s waist, Eddie lets a beat of silence linger. He’s not being mean anymore — it’s just this is it. This is the last line they haven’t crossed. It feels so big, yet so, so simple.
“Evan Buckley,” he starts, words leaving him slow and careful. “I love—”
Buck’s lips are on his before he can even finish. He has one palm planted flat against the door, caging Eddie in, while the other lands on the side of Eddie’s neck, his fingers curling round the back and pulling Eddie into the last first kiss of his entire life.
Giggling into it, Eddie kisses back, pulling Buck flush against him by his waist and deepening the kiss. It’s hard to kiss when he can’t stop smiling, but Buck sure is trying.
Though, after a beat, Buck is suddenly grinning too much, too. They’re left just beaming, inhaling and exhaling into each other’s mouths as they steal giddy pecks.
Slipping a hand between them, Eddie plants a hand against Buck’s chest, nudging him back slightly. Confused but compliant, Buck leans back.
“Can I finish?” Eddie asks, managing to sound amused and teasing despite how breathless he is.
Buck looks mildly sheepish, thumb tracing beneath Eddie’s jaw in a gentle line.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I guess.”
Unable to help himself, Eddie leans in, peppering a few kisses against Buck’s cheek, and it’s there, lips still against skin, that Eddie says, “I love you.”
Buck’s hand tightens against his neck, fingers flexing and clenching as an unsteady, trembling breath whooshes out of him. Quietly, he says, “again?”
Eddie could demand that Buck say it first. Eddie’s already said it three times now. But Eddie’s patient. And he’ll never mind saying this for Buck, not when loving him comes as easy as breathing. Eddie kisses a line across Buck’s cheekbone, hovering close to his ear as he repeats, “I love you.” He presses his mouth to Buck’s skin again. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” Eddie murmurs, the words muffled and slurring together.
Buck’s stomach flexes beneath Eddie’s hand, his whole body fluttering.
Eddie could say it over and over for the rest of his life. Plans to.
Whispering like it’s a secret, Buck finally returns the sentiment, voice unsteady but confident as he says, “I love you so much.”
Eddie smiles against his cheek, tracing a circle against Buck’s abdomen. “Yeah, I know.” Dropping his face into Buck’s neck, he nuzzles at the warm skin there. He’s exhausted, well and truly out of energy, so it’s easy just to melt into Buck’s body, his weight supported by the door.
It’s Buck that guides them into bed, averting his gaze for Eddie’s modesty as Eddie shucks his jeans off. It’s a sweet gesture, but Eddie’s got a feeling Buck won’t be so shy pretty soon. He’s seen flirty Buck. He’s not so sure he’s going to survive it, but he’s excited to die at the hands of Buck’s boyish, clumsy charm.
With surprisingly confident hands, Eddie rolls Buck onto his side and curves behind him, an arm slung over Buck’s stomach and settling against his now bare skin. He presses a kiss against the top knob of Buck’s spine, moulding himself to Buck’s back.
Silent and content, they rest there for a while. Eddie finds himself blinking slower and slower, falling asleep with Buck curled in his arms.
After a while, Buck mumbles something Eddie doesn’t quite catch. He forces his eyes open, managing a “Hm?”
“You hate the tube guys,” says Buck, louder now. “You kept glaring at them when no one was looking.”
Eddie grunts against Buck’s back, unwilling to admit that— well, yeah. Obviously they give him the heebie jeebies. They’re creepy.
“You got them for Theo anyway,” Buck whispers, “For me.”
That, Eddie will admit to. He kisses Buck’s shoulder again. “Do anything for you.”
He swears he can feel Buck’s body light up at that. Can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “You really love me.”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie murmurs against his back. “‘S easy. It’s you.”
Slipping his hand over Eddie’s, Buck tangles their fingers together, squeezing tight. “Night, Eddie.”
“Night, Buck.”