Archive of Our Own

“Evancito!” Eddie’s Tía greets upon opening her front door to Buck and Eddie, who are both struggling to juggle a plethora of gardening tools—their own personal, intense game of Jenga. “It’s been too long.” 

Eddie’s arms are going to fall off. 

From beside him, Buck beams, dimples making an early appearance. “We come bearing gifts.” 

“Shrubbery, more like,” Eddie says. “And what am I? Chop liver?” If he could spare excess energy, Eddie’d be more petulant. At the moment, he’s more concerned about accidentally letting groceries tumble to the ground and ruining his aunt’s chances at a beautiful yard before the real work has even begun.

“Don’t be sour, Mundo.” Pepa darts forward to affectionately pinch Buck’s cheek, proving Eddie’s point. She ignores the cardboard boxes that Eddie’s balancing like a determined server attempting to carry five loaded plates at the same time. “You have kept him from me. Besides, I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“I saw you two texting literally yesterday, Tía. Don’t play that card.” 

In fact, Eddie knows they converse over the phone often. They’re constantly in kahoots. Sometimes, he’ll peek over Buck’s shoulder at the station and spot call logs. Their longest one, to Eddie’s knowledge, was around forty minutes. The only person Eddie can talk to for that duration is Buck, who says that she usually has questions about the daily crossword—they both have subscriptions to NY Times—or an inquiry about an online recipe that she’s anxious to try. Unlike Eddie, she isn’t tech-averse. She has no problem recruiting Buck via cell. 

Their conversations are actually why Eddie’s standing on her doorstep on a Saturday afternoon. Instead of coming directly to Eddie for help, she’d dialled up Buck and asked him for gardening tips. It’s no secret that Eddie possesses a black thumb, but he likes to tell himself that it only applies to flowers, not vegetables. He’d come along to defy his plant-murdering tendencies. 

“You get worked up about sending a text, Eddie.” Pepa beckons them forward with a heavily bejewelled hand. Eddie’s always admired her style. She takes great pride in her wardrobe, whereas Eddie’s content with snatching the first tank or henley he can find most mornings and calling it a job well done. Lately, he’s been tempted to branch out. “Come in, come in.” She takes a potted sprout from Buck, then turns tail and disappears into her entryway, Rebozo shawl billowing behind her. 

“You first,” Eddie gestures for Buck to go ahead. Buck sends him a sunshine smile, careful to wipe his sneakers on the bristly welcome mat—the most thoughtful guy alive. He essentially skips over the threshold. Eddie does not look at his ass as he follows closely behind, since that’d be rude. Today is for wholesome activities and nurturing cucumbers. 

“This didn’t have to be a two-person job, y’know,” Buck throws over his shoulder, tripping over his own two feet on the hardwood.

True, for the record. However, Eddie is nothing if not stubborn as a mule, stab wound recovery be damned. 

“I was cleared by the doc two days ago, Buck. It’s fine. I wasn’t gonna leave you to fend for yourself.” 

“Fend for myself?” Buck halts mid-step. “I love hanging with your aunt. She’s the best. She’s also a better cook than me, so. Not like it’s a hardship.” 

Eddie’d never admit it lest his aunt smite him or wring his neck, but she and Buck are pretty much tied in that department. He’d call Buck the better baker, anyhow. 

“Boys!” Pepa’s voice booms from the kitchen. Buck jumps a foot in the air. Speckles of dirt go flying. Eddie makes a mental note to sweep it up later on. “Vamos! I’m not getting any younger!” 

Buck looks like he’s about to salute and respond with, “yes, Sarge.” Eddie rolls his eyes and determinedly ignores the creepy family portrait Pepa moved from the living room to the hallway, much to his dismay. The six smiling faces freak him out, just a little. It doesn’t help that they’re all matching in varying hues of red. A lot freaks Eddie out, apparently. Nevermind that he shouldn’t be startled by a harmless picture of his cousins. 

Maybe the fear factor has a little something to do with them all being married off and giving Pepa loads of grandchildren. Her words from a lifetime ago ring through Eddie’s ears: So now my attention turns to you. 

“We should probably do what she says if we wanna be outta here before midnight,” Eddie says, shivering inexplicably.

“Man, she could be the least intimidating woman and I’d still worship the ground that she walks on.” Buck shrugs like that information doesn’t make Eddie want to strum his own heartstrings. “If she needed me to, I’d stay until three in the morning, no questions asked.”

“We’re responsible for Chris and Theo ‘til they’re eighteen, bud.” Eddie shuffles past him and beelines for the granite island. “Can’t just leave them with your sister forever.” Although the idea is tempting. They’re a handful, and Maddie’s a certified Toddler Whisperer. 

“What’s this about mis sobrinos nietos?” Pepa taps her freshly manicured nails in a rhythmic pattern against the countertop. “How are they doing? How come you did not bring them along?” 

Eddie dutifully ignores that she just referred to Theo as her grand nephew. 

Buck doesn’t pick up on it. Or, he’s doing a great job being normal about the feigned casualness lacing Pepa’s tone. “They’re at Maddie’s,” he fills in, clumsily depositing their haul on the nearest flat surface. “You remember my sister, right? Kinda short. She’s got brown hair. Married to our captain? I think you met at a barbecue awhile back.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. Kind woman.” Pepa dips her chin confidently. “Much like you on that front.”

Buck blushes endearingly. Eddie deposits himself onto a bar stool and props his chin on his knuckles, helpless. 

“Well, she practically raised me, so I guess that makes sense.” Buck claps his hands together. “Anyways. They’re with her until we get this garden stuff under control. How good is your dirt on a scale of one to ten? Great soil is textured.” 

Pepa suspends her hand—a so-so seesaw. “A six. Paco and I have not taken great care of it. There are not enough hours in the day, you understand.” 

“That’s what I’m here for.” Buck sets his shoulders, crosses one leg over the other and leans against the fridge. Eddie does not openly gawk at his bulging biceps. “Here’s what I have planned: a summer to fall transition. ‘Cause the moisture of the soil’s properties don’t have to be the same from season to season.”

Pepa opens a cabinet to retrieve her butterfly-patterned notepad and her favorite clicky pen. Eddie withholds a gasp. Her sacred lists are written on those pages. She’s very serious about this, then. 

Buck patiently waits for her to adorn her reading glasses, then continues. “So, September’s fast approaching. I’m no seed expert, but I did my research just for you.” He winks, and Pepa’s gaze narrows. 

“These vegetables will be easy to water, yes?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Buck reassures. “I went over the ingredients list you emailed to me a few months ago. You’ll have everything you need to garnish and season your family dinners right outside your front door. I know that’s important to you.” 

“Dios, you do not mess around,” Pepa says, pleased. Eddie thinks his aunt is seconds away from launching across the island and smacking an affectionate kiss to Buck's cheek. She looks endlessly grateful. 

“‘Course not. Flourishing plant life is crucial.” Buck raises a dorky finger to punctuate his infodump. Eddie might swoon. His pupils are most likely heart-shaped. “Eddie and I ran to the best farmers’ market we know of and bought you a bona fide collection: carrots, green onions, arugula,” he says, shriveling his nose. “Beets, too.” 

Eddie’s not sure what, exactly, his aunt is jotting down. She’s hanging off of Buck’s every word, though. So’s Eddie. 

“We almost bought you poppies,” Eddie contributes, shaking himself out of the daze that’s settled over him like a fuzzy blanket. “Buck was scared I’d accidentally graze a petal and curse it, so we ultimately vetoed that idea.” 

Pepa’s forehead crinkles mirthfully. “Probably wise. Your abuela used to call me if she was going on a trip and needed someone to guard her beloved hollyhocks.” Her eyes glaze over wistfully. “No se lo digas a Eddito. He will overwater them—first words she would say once I picked up the phone.” She moves towards the fridge, seemingly satisfied with her scribblings.

A brief pang pierces Eddie’s chest. He misses his grandmother daily. He recovers quickly, scoffing out, “Little dramatic, if you ask m–”

“Not so fast. There's a point to be made here, Eddie.” Buck crosses his big arms over his chest, bunching up his t-shirt. He twists to address Pepa. “I got him a cactus once, and it was dead in less than a week.” Buck’s smug tone is grating hotly on Eddie’s nerves. He starts filing through all the inappropriate ways he could wipe that cockiness clean off his face. Funnily enough, Eddie finds that he doesn’t really want to. He likes when Buck’s excited, even when it’s at Eddie’s expense. 

Pepa pats Buck’s back, prompting him forward so she can grab the pitcher full of homemade lemonade from behind him. Suddenly, Eddie’s parched. She pours a glass and slides it towards Buck like a taunt, batting Buck’s hand away the second he reaches for it. “¡Ey! You must work up a sweat first!” 

Buck mopes. Eddie preens. 

“Don’t look so proud, Edmundo. You kill plants.” Pepa fixes Eddie with a playful glare. “I invited your Buck for a reason, sí? He knows more than you do.” 

Buck bursts into a fit of laughter, Pepa quickly following suit. They’re like a tag-team. Eddie’s humbled. Two of your favorite people ganging up on you has that side effect. This isn’t unfamiliar in the slightest. They act similarly when Pepa’s recounting harrowing stories from Eddie’s youth or whipping out an old family album to poke fun at the haircuts Eddie used to think were the shit. 

“Ha,” Eddie deadpans. “You’re both so hilarious.”

Pepa sobers up. She locks eyes with Eddie, still gripping Buck’s bicep in camaraderie. She seems to ponder something for a beat. Then: “Cásate con este hombre, o lo haré yo,” she declares, with all the subtlety of a rampaging buffalo. 

Eddie flounders, mentally screeching to a grinding halt. He wishes with all his might that the two years of Spanish Buck told Eddie he’d been obligated to take in high school are not in any way useful to him, anymore. They’ve barely been here ten minutes, and Pepa’s already pulled out the big guns. Seriously, she wastes no time. 

“Compra un anillo,” she hurries on, undeterred by Eddie’s fish-mouthing. “Un diamante gordo.” 

Above her, Buck’s eyes widen infinitesimally. He whips around to Eddie. Oh, fuck. Fuck, did he pick something up? Someone’s gonna have to wheel Eddie off the property. In a wagon. He’s actively dying of embarrassment. 

“Tía,” Eddie hisses, the exact same way he did when she first tricked him into a set-up under the guise of fixing pipes. “Enough.”

The tips of Buck’s ears are ruby red, and the thing is, Eddie wants him. The thing is, he can understand exactly why his aunt would be blunt like this. Buck is family to them both, which makes him subject to Pepa’s ribbing. At present, Buck’s kid is family to Eddie’s Tía, which there really is no sane explanation for. Why shouldn’t she assume that he wants to lock Buck down? She’s seen right through Eddie his whole life. Eddie’s as transparent as the diamond Pepa’s just stated should be secured to Buck’s ring finger pronto. 

Buck’s gaze darts back and forth between them—a nervous tic; a plea for clarification on what to do next. Eddie can’t grant him an answer. Not now. Not when he has a feeling Pepa has more to unleash upon him. Eddie prefers privacy for whatever that conversation might entail. 

“Buck, can you give us a sec?” Eddie asks, avoiding direct eye contact. If he looks at Buck right now, he’ll burst into sinful flames. 

“Oh.” Buck takes the hint, voice fracturing. God, Eddie wants to give him everything. “Yeah. I’ll, um. I’ll just go get started outside.” He wipes invisible lint off of his jeans, then taps the fingers Pepa still has curled around his bicep—the ones keeping him firmly rooted to the floor. 

Pepa releases him, albeit with hesitancy. She returns the soft tap, but places it on Buck’s cheek, instead. “Thank you, mi niño. I will be out shortly.” 

Buck nods, shoots one more furtive look at Eddie, and bolts for the door. He forgets the plants. Of course he’d do that. Eddie’s lips tick up feebly. He hopes Buck’ll make himself busy outside, maybe pop a lawn chair and relax. Not likely, but Eddie doesn’t want him stressing himself out. 

His Tía doesn’t appear remotely guilty. She’s thumping her sandaled foot impatiently, like Eddie’s wasting precious daylight. “I said what had to be said.” 

Eddie bristles. “He’s here to plant flowers. He’s not here to be terrorized.”

Pepa quirks a sarcastic eyebrow. “I did no such thing. I merely made a suggestion.” 

“More like a demand!”

“Mi amor, do not be daft. I see the way you look at that man each time I am in a room with the two of you.” She shakes her head slightly, jostling her gold hoop earrings. “I may be old, but I am not blind. Yet.”

“I don’t want Buck caught up in a scheme, regardless of how well-meaning it is.” If Eddie tells Buck the truth, he wants it to be one-hundred and ten percent authentic. “Is that why you asked him here today first? Were you planning on saying something to him and you just didn’t realize I’d tag along and foil the plan?” He doesn’t honestly think she’d go behind his back like that, but he’s running out of steam. Eddie can’t defend himself much longer, doesn’t know why he’s trying so hard when his feelings for Buck are overflowing and obvious to anyone with a functioning set of eyes. 

“I already told you why Buck is here. He is better with a shovel.” She stares out the kitchen window, finally a tad sheepish. “I thought you would be home watching the two children you are practically raising together. You are supposed to be recovering from an injury, for goodness’ sake.”

If Eddie has a heart attack, everyone should know she’s the reason for his untimely demise. “I. We–” he splutters articulately. 

Pepa approaches him cautiously, her soulful brown eyes absolutely penetrating. Coincidentally, Eddie recalls Buck making a comment about Eddie inheriting that specific trait from her, somehow. Eddie’s mother’s eyes have never contained the same compassion.

“Edmundo,” she lays a comforting palm on his forearm. “I like to think of myself as a perceptive woman. That man outside,” she points a thumb over her shoulder, “he is what I have always wanted for you. He loves you. Very much. He would not be here, otherwise.” She runs her knuckles along Eddie’s jaw tenderly. They’re cold—the complete opposite of her essence. Whenever Eddie looks at her, he experiences divine warmth. “Now, I understand I cannot make these decisions for you no matter how hard I push, but I have found peace in that. Would you like to know why?” 

Eddie nods, enraptured. Whatever she says next, Eddie knows he’ll internalize it. Her advice has always been of utmost importance to him. 

“It is because I know Buck will catch you. It is that simple.” Eddie pinches his lips, fending off the immediate tears that brew along his lashline. “He will take care of you. He has proven himself, no?”

Eddie doesn’t respond verbally. He blinks rapidly for a moment, tries to breathe through how highly she speaks of the person Eddie’s chosen for himself. 

“He has. He’s planting your garden, after all,” Eddie murmurs. It’s truly that clean-cut, isn’t it? Buck is going the extra mile. He’s nothing but a blessing. 

“These past years, you have not been alone,” Pepa says, grinning from ear to ear. “I have not had to worry so much about you, mijo. That is a testament to our Buck. He is good for you, good for this family.” Her crows feet are on stark display—weathered lines of beauty. “Even if he often beats me at the crossword,” she jokes. 

Eddie unwinds and unravels. He lets the love seep out of him and laughs freely. “He’s infuriatingly skilled at those. My very own encyclopedia.”

Various emotions flit across Pepa’s features. She lands on joy. “Oh, Mundo. He makes you light up. Como el sol.”

Eddie feels himself flush. “We shouldn’t leave him out there too long. He’s incapable of sitting still.”

“The poor boy left the pots inside.” She straightens the neckline of Eddie’s shirt, considering him perceptively. “Whatever you do, tell him. Preferably before I croak, por favor. I have to settle a bet with the viejas I knit with on Sundays after church.” 

Eddie reels back. “First of all, please don’t talk like that. You’re gonna live forever. Second of all, you gossip with those women about Buck and me?” Eddie really does take after her, Christ. “Do I even wanna know how much money is in the pool?” 

Pepa winces, thoroughly chastened. She sucks in a self-soothing breath. “Almost three-hundred dollars, plus a gift card for the boutique down the street. I am only human.” 

So that’s why she gave in; there are antiques on the line. Hopefully, there will be many floral blouses in her future. Eddie grits his teeth, biting back an expletive or two. “You’ve got alotta faith in us.” 

“I never said it was easy. It is difficult watching you bat your eyes at Buck like you are some character from a telenovela. I have shown great restraint.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that he never managed to outgrow resonating with trashy television. His aunt probably gets all the dirt from Christopher. “You better not have contributed any of your savings.”

“I will keep that to myself, señor. A magician does not confess her secrets.” Pepa loops an arm around Eddie’s waist, squeezing him into a hug. She’s mindful of his almost-healed wound. “Now, stop procrastinating. I will pour you some water and we will enjoy watching Evancito work.”

About an hour after plopping into lounge chairs with his Tía, iced drinks in hand and sunglasses low on their noses, grey clouds begin to gather threateningly overhead. 

Pepa insists that they will pass, and at first, Eddie glosses over the forecast in favor of staring at the sweat beading at Buck’s temples while he pats dirt with heavy duty leather gloves that Eddie shouldn’t find as sexy as he does. He lets condensation pool in a ring around his dripping glass cup, distractedly digging the toe of his boot into the grass as Buck tends to Pepa’s lawn like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing on a weekend. Knowing Buck, Eddie guesses he’s content with the circumstances. 

The minutes tick by slowly. When the first drop of rain falls, Eddie doesn’t notice. He sits reclined and oblivious, basking in the mugginess like a housewife who’s had too much white wine. Looking at Buck is intoxicating in and of itself. He’s jolted out of his Buck-related stupor by a crack of thunder. 

Pepa tuts. Rain has become a perpetual nuisance in her old age. She claims it makes her bones ache. Her frustration seems to trigger an instant downpour. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Eddie complains, limbs flapping as he trudges to the pruning shears Buck abandoned near the walkway.  

“Mierda, mierda,” his aunt echoes. “Inside, both of you.” She captures Buck’s wrist and drags him after her, newspaper suspended above her hair for futile protection. 

Distantly, Eddie entertains the thought that Buck would get her in the divorce. He’s definitely getting ahead of himself, seeing as if Eddie ever managed to marry Buck, he’d sooner buy ten Hildys than ever let him slip through his fingers, but still. It’s nice that his aunt adores him so much. Pepa already sides with Buck over small trivialities. Eddie’s never been able to blame the woman. 

Eddie trails after them, slamming the door. Tendrils of soaked hair are plastered to his forehead. He hears hushed chattering in the living room and follows the noise to where Buck and Pepa’s heads are tilted to peer at the television screen. A harried news anchor informs the room that there’s a Category Two hurricane travelling across the coast. Eddie stalls. That was nowhere on the radar this morning. He’d checked. Huh. Odd. 

“Well,” Pepa says grimly. “It would appear you are both stuck with me.” She sniffs and waves the remote in an arc above her. “You cannot leave in these conditions.” 

Rain pelts fiercely against the roof—a confirmation. Eddie is beyond arguing. 

Buck, however, looks reluctant. “Stay the night, you mean?” Eddie watches his throat work through a gulp. “But the kids. And we’re all muddy! I can’t get dirt on your sheets.” 

Pepa makes a disgruntled noise. “I will call your sister myself. You cannot drive with my nephew in the passenger seat, cariño. I forbid it. Hosting is the least I can do after all you have gone through for the sake of my vegetables.” Eddie’s inclined to agree. “You will simply borrow Paco’s clothes.” 

And that is how Buck and Eddie find themselves standing on opposite sides of the one bed in Pepa’s guest room at approximately eight o’clock. 

“I’m worried about Theo,” Buck blurts, cutting through the quiet that had settled over the bedroom oppressively. 

Eddie’s glad for the interruption. The only thoughts that have been clanging around his useless brain since Buck walked out of the ensuite in soft blue sleep shorts and a white tank top that’s too small for him: abort mission, why’d I say yes to this?

God should strike him down. 

Eddie overturns a corner of the comforter. Theo is always a safe avenue of conversation. Eddie’s equipped to deal with kid-related stressors. What he’s not built for is controlling himself when he’s about to hop into bed with a six foot two Adonis who makes Eddie weak at the knees. His stomach is in knots. 

He coughs fruitlessly, pulling back the covers in one swift movement. “I know you are. But if anyone can fend off a tantrum, it’s your sister.”

“What if he misses us too much?” Buck puts his hands on his hips. His shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of belly button. Eddie chews on the inside of his cheek. “We have a routine. A schedule. If he freaks out I’ll never forgive myself.” 

“Tía told Maddie to call back if he has a nightmare.” Eddie pats the mattress in invitation, unthinking. It’s instinct to want Buck in reach. “Now come calm down before you start pacing.”

Buck acquiesces, perching on the edge of the bed before surrendering to the gravitational pull of a comfortable pillow. He props himself against the headboard, steeples his fingers and folds them neatly on his lap. He’s barely looked at Eddie since Pepa ordered them in here. 

Eddie lies flat on his back. Silence engulfs them yet again. There’s a television atop the armoire. Neither of them make the effort to turn it on despite the early hour. He flips onto his stomach, restless. His cheek smushes into his pillow. Eddie admires Buck’s side profile—the shadows dancing along every point and angle of his face. The sky grows darker outside, bathing the room in vast blackness. A lamp could be flicked on. A phone could be perused. Still, they both opt for quiet. 

Steeling himself for rejection, Eddie ventures out by palming Buck’s thigh tentatively. “What’s on your mind? Other than Theo.” 

Buck deflates, shoulders hunching as he drops himself against the mattress more completely. His skull is now cradled by a pillow instead of the headboard—a mirror of Eddie’s earlier position. 

“Honestly?” Buck mumbles, shy. He picks at his thumbnail. Thinks better of it and rests his hand on top of Eddie’s; an acceptance. His touch is brutally pleasant. 

“Honestly.”

Their sides are grazing from top to toe. Every point of contact makes Eddie’s blood simmer. His skin pulls taut, gut boiling. 

“I understood your aunt earlier, Eddie. I’ve been practicing Spanish with Theo because he’s taken an interest.” Buck blinks up at the ceiling. “Pretty sure his sudden passion for it has a lot to do with you.”

Eddie squeezes his lids shut against the onslaught of emotions that the image conjures. Buck shifts marginally, head inclined to get a better look at him. Eddie’s lucky there’s no light in this room but for the sporadic streaks of lightning. He knows he’s positively ruddy. 

“Was she just teasing?” Buck whispers delicately. Eddie wants to slither below the comforter to bury his face in Buck’s pajamas. It feels like he’s been so thoroughly caught. 

It doesn’t come as a shock that Buck picked up on Pepa’s taunting. Eddie’s been preparing for this since he saw Buck’s expression hours ago. Buck hadn’t looked confused. He’d looked caught too, come to think of it.

A flicker of dangerous hope sparks to life behind Eddie’s ribcage. He believed his aunt when she said Buck loved him back, but it’s different here, in this guestroom, with no one else present to bear witness to that love or to call it out. It’s up to Buck and Eddie. Namely Eddie. He’s tired of hiding. 

“No,” Eddie admits, trying and failing to garner the courage to stroke the hairs resting at the hem of Buck’s shorts. He has to know with clarity that Buck would want that, first. “She… she loves you. Like I do.” Eddie backtracks. “Well, not exactly like I do. But she wanted me to do something about it. Does that make sense?” 

There’s an audible hitch in Buck’s breathing. Eddie would like to snatch the sound before Buck can swallow it—gulp it down his own throat like an antidote for his fear. 

Buck shuffles closer, a good sign. The tip of his nose brushes Eddie’s, a miracle. Eddie promptly melts into the sheets. 

“You love me?” Buck asks with all the budding anticipation of someone who’s been waiting for those three words to come for a long while. 

Eddie erupts, insides syrupy sweet. He can’t see Buck, but he can sense him all the same. “You know I do,” Eddie confirms. 

Buck’s radiating giddiness. He rubs their noses together more firmly, chuckles infectiously into the scant centimeters between their lips. Eddie’s desperately fiddling with Buck’s sock-clad feet, tangling their ankles—a game of restraint, of waiting for express permission. 

Buck picks up his slack. “Can. Can I kiss you? Please let me kiss you.”

Eddie groans right into his face, nodding in rapid approval. He angles his lips in a way that instantly makes his neck crook and creak. He doesn’t care. Buck gets the message. He cups Eddie’s cheek and hauls him into a bruising kiss. 

Eddie feels it all the way through to his marrow. Buck is incapable of doing anything halfway, as Eddie’s come to learn. That extends to how he moves his mouth and how he skillfully operates his tongue. The muscle creeps and prods at Eddie’s bottom lip. He tastes like toothpaste paired with a hint of the tamales Pepa made them for dinner. 

Buck breaks away for a bittersweet second to murmur against Eddie’s neck that he loves him, too. He sucks on Eddie’s carotid, scruffing his nape in the process. 

Half-frenzied and using much of his upper body strength, Eddie leverages his torso and bullies Buck beneath him. He tugs at Buck’s curls to maneuver him properly and earns a choked keen for his efforts. Once Eddie’s satisfied with their new position, he captures Buck’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. He simultaneously straddles Buck’s hips and dives to reconnect their lips. 

He misses his intended target, instead sloppily kissing Buck’s cupid’s bow. Buck’s leg involuntarily kicks out, knocking over some miscellaneous item or other that resides on the chest of drawers sitting at the base of the bedframe. 

Eddie shushes him with a finger held aloft between their lips. Buck tries to chase him, ends up mouthing at the digit Eddie’s pressed to his saliva-slick pout. “Mm. I’m not gonna defile you in my aunt’s house, Buck.” 

Buck whines, legs falling open temptingly. Eddie allows himself a singular lustful grind. “Quit squirming,” he begs, dropping his weight and covering Buck like a makeshift quilt. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

“So what’re we gonna do? Sleep?” Buck asks incredulously, wrapping his arms across Eddie’s back. He licks a stripe across Eddie’s stubble, huffing and puffing. “We’re hardly past sunset!”

It is so hot in this godforsaken room. Buck is so hot—physically, as in their combined body heat beneath these covers is making Eddie lightheaded, and literally, as in Eddie is going to eat him. 

“There’s no sunset tonight, bud.” Eddie pecks his hairline. “It’s thundering.” He ducks to trace the shell of Buck’s ear with his nose. 

“Don’t be a smartass. You know what I mean. I can’t sleep with you,” Buck rambles, ever-theatrical. Eddie’s a lucky bastard. “I’ve changed my mind. You’ll have to sedate me.” 

“I’ll make us some tea,” Eddie decides. “And you are staying put. Cooling off.”

“Making tea?” Buck gabbles, hands catching on either side of Eddie’s face. “That’s PG-13 bullshit.” 

Eddie guffaws, forgetting where he is. “You’re ridiculous.”

Buck slaps a palm over his mouth. “Man, I’m serious. We’re putting a pillow between us. We’re building a barricade.”

Eddie kisses the center of his hand. “I love you,” he repeats into the skin, muffled and hysterical. “Don’t move.” He begins extricating himself from Buck. It’s a very painful endeavor. 

“Eddie!” Buck whisper-yells once he’s up and off the bed—out of his siren’s electromagnetic pull. 

“What is it?” Eddie rasps, navigating to the doorknob and rotating it. He’s gotta leave before he does something crazy, like tackling Buck and finishing what they started. 

“Can you make my tea with oat milk, pretty please?”

“Fine, you animal.” Eddie blows him a kiss that he probably can’t see. “I’ll be back. Be good. Behave.” 

Before Eddie slides through the crack in the door, he observes the faint outline of Buck’s arm raising, hand outstretched as if he somehow intuited the stupid gesture. Eddie thinks he catches the kiss. 

Exhilarated, Eddie tiptoes down the hallway, drawing on his stealth to make it safely to the kitchen without causing a fuss or stepping on a creaky floorboard. The smiling portrait skeeves him out, but he manages. Opening the fridge and scanning its contents, he fails to account for the motion detectors blinking to life. 

A throat clears somewhere to his left: a distinct “ahem.” 

Eddie’s soul damn near leaves his body. He spins, the milk carton he grabbed wielded like a weapon. 

Pepa lazes by the sink in a fluffy pink robe. She yanks on the cord of the lamp tucked into the windowsill, illuminating her visage of buttery contentment. Has she been posted up and waiting? Jesus.

There’s a romance novel dangling from her hand. Eddie recognizes the title. She recommended the book to him back in July. 

“Good-ness,” Eddie squeaks, a frog lodged in his windpipe. His palms are downright clammy. “Why are you awake, Tía?

“It is my house. I do as I please.” She purses her lips. “Why are you skulking? That is the better question.”

“I wasn’t skulking,” Eddie defends, even though he most definitely was. “I was just… hungry?”

“You were sneaking.” Pepa sighs, expectant. “I thought I heard a bang, Mundo. Care to explain?”

Eddie feels like he did at fourteen when he slept over at her place and she busted him trying to flee through her back door. He’d had plans to climb the ladder his tío used for his old construction job to smoke an illicit cigarette on the rooftop. He’d been curious about rebellion, sue him. 

“Well, um. I–” Eddie stutters in her presence for the second time today.

She gasps, coming to her own conclusion. “Increíble.” Her eyes glow, latching onto Eddie’s neck. “You have a–” she cuts herself off to snap her fingers. “A hickey. Is that what the young ones call it, nowadays?” 

Eddie is. He is. He needs the Earth to swallow him whole and keep him in its underbelly for eternity. He scrabbles at his neck in a panic. 

“You have succeeded, then.” Pepa fist pumps. That’s… Eddie should process that. Alone. Or with Buck, actually. “I had a feeling my crystals were powerful.” 

“Come again? Since when are you into voodoo?” Eddie takes the opportunity to criticize, happy to postpone her scrutiny. “You’re a woman of God! That’s blasphemous.” 

“Oh, hush. I can be many things at once.” Pepa steers them back to Eddie’s dire situation. “You have told Buck,” she prods. 

Her excitement is contagious. There’s no reason to hold out on her, is there? Eddie caves. “Yes, okay? I might’ve mentioned that I only wanna be with him and… yada, yada, yada. I’ll spare you the details.” 

She doesn’t even look put out by the knowledge that her nephew just admitted indirectly to making out with a man under her roof. Granted, Eddie knows she’s endlessly fond of said man. Eddie can’t wait to tell Buck that she genuinely pumped her fist upon learning that they sealed the deal. 

She is meddlesome, she is superior, and all she offers up in return before bidding Eddie goodnight is, “Gracias a Dios.”