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They have just finished a very long shift, and Buck is very tired, so when Eddie says, “Huh.”
And Buck says, “What?”
He’s not emotionally nor spiritually prepared for the answer to be:
“My barber invited us to her wedding.”
Buck blinks. He frowns. He watches Eddie flip through the rest of his mail like his barber didn’t just send him a wedding invite in the mail.
“You’re friends with your barber?”
Eddie rips open an envelope and grunts at his credit card statement. “I - - yeah, I guess so. We golf.”
Jealousy doesn’t not sear through his veins.
“You golf with your barber?” He clarifies, because he could golf. He is capable of golfing. He could probably even do an okay job of cutting Eddie’s hair, if it really came down to it. The golfing barber bride is not special.
He watches as Eddie rips into another envelope, coupons scattering out onto the table.
“Yeah,” Eddie shrugs. “And we have a book club, technically.”
“A book club.”
He hums. “We like the same books.”
On a better day, a better Buck would say that’s so great, Eddie. I’m so glad you have so much in common with your barber, Eddie. I love that you somehow befriend every person you come into somewhat frequent contact with without even trying or noticing, Eddie.
Instead, he says:
“Wow, okay. So you’re best friends with your barber. Did she ask you to be her bridesmaid too? Your barber best friend, who I have never heard of, that you do fun things with secretly without me?”
Eddie ignores most of that, which is annoying, because it wasn’t rhetorical. “She invited us.”
Buck blinks. “Us like you and Chris?”
“This one is already expired,” Eddie frowns down at his stupid coupons. He sighs; he looks up; he catches up to the conversation. “Huh? No. You and me.”
Buck snaps his mouth shut. His number one mortal enemy as of thirty seconds ago is playing ninja mind games with him via the United States Postal Service.
There’s a Machiavellian in their midst, and she’s trying to steal his Eddie by… inviting Buck to her wedding.
Look, he’s rusty on the details, but that’s definitely what’s happening, somehow.
He narrows his eyes. “Have I met her?”
Eddie takes his pile of unexpired coupons and secures them to the fridge with a magnet. “I don’t think so.”
“How does she even know who I am?”
Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know. She asks about you sometimes.”
Naturally. Scoping out the best friend competition. Gathering intel. Identifying his weak spots. It adds up. It all adds up. It’s an evil, genius master plan, and it is of great concern, but it also means that - -
“You talk about me?”
“I mean, yeah. I mention you. You’re - - y’know. Around.”
“Your best friend, the barber, invited me to her wedding because I’m around?”
“I don’t know, Buck,” Eddie sighs. “She didn’t put an explanation on the invitation. Maybe she just wants to meet you. She does keep trying to organize a game night with Maya and us.”
Buck scoffs. “Who’s Maya? Your dentist?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Greta’s fiancée.”
Oh.
Oh my god.
Buck gasps. “Lesbians?”
“Yeah. I mean - - I think so.”
Scratch all of that. Scratch every single thing he just said — backspace, backspace, backspace, delete, delete, delete.
“Lesbian wedding?” He confirms.
“Yeah?” Eddie frowns.
This is the best day of his entire life. There is no higher honor on this earth than being invited to a lesbian wedding. There’s no greater gift than that of friendship with a lesbian. And Eddie, the greedy fucker, somehow trips and falls into friendships with lesbians at a truly baffling frequency.
Buck has no idea how he does it, but by god is he going to make the most of it.
“Eddie. We have to go. Tell her that we’re going,” he insists, reaching across the table for the invitation. “Gimme it.”
The invite is beautiful, because of course it is. Lesbians. He scans the perfect calligraphy on the fancy cardstock and - -
Oh.
Huh.
Hmm.
That’s - -
“Eddie,” he says carefully. Slowly. So as not to spook his lesbian friendship whisperer. “Is it possible that your barber thinks we’re…together?” He winces. “In a married way?”
Eddie, who was squinting at his electric bill, squints up at Buck instead. “What?” He frowns. “No. Why?”
Buck flips the invitation around to show him the, again, truly beautiful calligraphy. “It’s addressed to Mr & Mr Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley.”
Eddie swallows. “So? Those are - - those are our names,” he frowns, fumbling for his phone. “She - - she texted me, asking what your full name was,” he explains, scrolling somewhat frantically through his phone. “Yes! Look. Here. She said, ‘What’s Buck’s full name?’ And I told her, and she says, ‘omg!! Eddie and Evan!!! So cute,’ And then - - oh. Hmm.”
Buck doesn’t even try to fight the shit-eating grin that takes over his face. This is truly the best day of his life. “Hmm?”
“Then she said, ‘We’re keeping our names too!!’ And there’s a little cartwheel emoji. And a wedding chapel emoji.”
Buck snorts. “Okay. So - -”
“My barber might think we’re married,” Eddie concedes. “This explains why she always complains about straight people to me.”
Buck chuckles. “Why does your golfing book-club barber think we’re married?”
“I don’t know!” Eddie squeaks. “I obviously didn’t tell her that! I thought she just really liked playing Catan!”
“Eddie,” Buck laughs. “I love her. We have to go.”
“She thinks we’re married! Why would she think we’re married?”
Buck is so far past that — there’s a lesbian wedding invite on the line. He will be married to whoever he needs to be married to.
He can be married to Eddie.
For the lesbian wedding.
Only because of the lesbian wedding.
“People think that all the time,” Buck waves off. “We can’t not go to your barber’s lesbian wedding!”
“Do they?” Eddie blinks, flustered. “What do you - - when??”
“We don’t even have to hold hands. We can pretend like we’re going through something.”
Eddie scoffs. “No, thank you. I don’t need to reexperience a crumbling marriage for fun.”
But the stakes!! The stakes!!
“Fine. We’re not into PDA,” Buck compromises. “It’s camp-themed!! They rented cabins!! Lesbian wedding!! I’m gonna cry. I already know I’m gonna cry.”
Eddie looks at him. He narrows his eyes. “We can’t lie to the brides at their own wedding. That has to be a bad omen.”
He’s got him. He’s almost fucking got him.
“We don’t even have to lie! You know what? Let’s make it interesting. I bet we could go the whole weekend without lying once.”
Eddie snorts. “There’s no way.”
“First one to lie loses.”
Eddie squints at him. “You’re a shitty liar.”
“So you’ll win! Lesbian wedding!”
Eddie sighs, and Buck knows he’s won. “Loser chaperones the robotics club field trip.”
Hook, line, and fucking sinker.
“Deal.”
“Holy shit, Eddie. You weren’t kidding. You have a hot husband,” is the first thing Greta says 30 seconds into Eddie pretending he’s not freaking the fuck out about pretending Buck is his husband at his barber’s lesbian wedding.
He kind of feels like he’s going to puke. This was a bad idea. This was a terrible idea.
He feels Buck whip his head around to look at him from where he’s standing beside him. Eddie’s cheeks flame.
They’re standing in the middle of a real, actual summer camp, decorated with fairy lights, beanbags, and a roaring campfire. The brides have rented the entire summer camp for the entire weekend. A weekend with its own itinerary. A weekend itinerary of Eddie pretending to be married to Buck.
They’re 30 seconds into the weekend of Eddie pretending to be married to Buck, and he’s about to puke.
“I don’t think I ever said that?” He fumbles. He definitely didn’t say that. “I don’t think - - I said that.”
Greta waves him off. “You’re hot and obsessed with him. I may have drawn some accurate conclusions.”
He can see a fully stocked makeshift bar out of the corner of his eye. That’s good. That’s helpful. He’ll go there next — right after he gets through this without getting swallowed up by the earth.
“Obsessed seems like a strong choice of words there,” he defends. Buck is just around a lot! It’s not his fault that he ends up mentioning him in every story!
Greta rolls her eyes and turns her attention to Buck, who is grinning delightedly beside him. “Buck,” she says, grabbing his hands in hers. “I have heard so much about you, and I think we’re going to be best friends.”
Buck grins. Apparently this is the best day of his life — he’d told Eddie as such when they’d arrived at their cabin, right after he’d claimed the top bunk.
“Eddie has been holding out on me,” Buck agrees, like everyone has come to the same conclusion that this is all Eddie’s fault. “I can’t believe you go golfing without me.”
Eddie scoffs. He doesn’t even like golf. “You suck at golf.”
“So? You look hot in the outfits,” Buck winks, shamelessly flirting like that’s something they do.
Mortifyingly, he feels his face heat up further. “Shut up,” he grumbles. He needs a drink. He needs three drinks, even.
Greta gasps. “Oh! Perfect! I was hoping it was a mutual obsession. I told Maya that I thought it would be. I hope it’s okay; I’ve told her literally everything about you two.”
He swears to god he doesn’t talk about Buck that much. It’s - - they have 24-hour shifts! He sees a lot of him!
“I don’t know how much there is to say,” Eddie mumbles. “I don’t talk about him that much.”
Greta snorts, like that’s funny.
It wasn’t a joke.
“It’s a regular amount,” he insists, avoiding Buck’s stupid grinning face.
She snorts again, which is rude. She made her point the first time. “Yeah, okay,” she offers sarcastically. “That’s why I know the custom lullaby he made up and sings to his sister’s kids via FaceTime every night.”
“Eddie!” Buck grins.
“It’s catchy,” he grunts. “It was stuck in my head.”
Greta cackles, patting him on the cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here!!” She grins. “Both of you!!”
“I’m so glad you’re here!!” Greta grins, patting a blushing Eddie on the cheek. “Both of you!!”
Buck is obsessed with her, and he always has been. Not for one single second did he doubt that her intentions were pure and perfect — that never happened. He is Greta’s #1 fan, and he’d love to hear more about how much Eddie talks about him, in great detail.
Before he can request the details, a pretty brunette steps up behind Greta, handing her a flute of champagne and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Hello,” she says, eyes flicking between him and Eddie, measuring. Analytical. “Eddie,” she nods in Eddie’s direction. Her gaze turns to Buck. “And you must be Eddie’s Buck.”
“Oh my god,” Eddie whispers under his breath. Buck fucking loves it here.
“I am,” he grins. “And you must be Greta’s Maya.”
“That’s me,” she confirms at the same time Greta sighs dreamily and says:
“Isn’t she the most perfect thing you’ve ever seen?”
They truly are an absurdly genetically blessed couple.
“It’s great to meet you,” he says. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“Greta wanted to meet you, and I thought it would be handy to have a few firefighters on hand in case the campfires and torches try to burn down the place,” Maya shrugs.
“What she means is that we cherish our friendship with you, Eddie, and both entirely believed that Buck was real the whole time, and we’re glad you both could make it,” Greta clarifies. “And also, yes, I hereby declare you our camp fire wardens. Thank you so much.”
Buck snorts. “Aye aye, Cap,” he salutes. He gestures around the immaculately decorated summer camp. “You guys big on camping?”
“We met at camp,” Greta grins. “At this camp! I had a giant crush on her for two summers, but I thought she was straight. Very angsty. Very chic.”
“I also thought I was straight,” Maya notes.
“And then she kissed me,” Greta whispers gleefully.
Maya smiles at the memory. “And then I ran away.”
“And then she ran away,” Greta agrees fondly. “She literally disappeared into the trees and didn’t come back until the next morning. And she calls me the dramatic one. Sleeping on the dirt.”
“I slept in the treehouse, thank you,” Maya disputes. “Like a civilised person having a sexuality crisis at camp.”
“Naw, I love that treehouse,” Greta sighs happily. “We hooked up for the first time in that treehouse.”
“That can’t have been comfortable,” Eddie winces.
“Better than a plane bathroom, worse than the backseat of a car,” Buck supplies from experience.
Eddie shakes his head at him, like he’s not the weird one for never having had sex in a treehouse.
“It’s the lack of soft surfaces that does you in,” Greta agrees. “What about you two?”
Buck clears his throat. “Where did we - -?”
“How did you get together?” Maya clarifies, snorting.
“Oh!” Buck laughs. “Just - - work. We met at work.”
“And?” Maya prompts.
“And I - - hated him. For about 24 hours.”
Not a lie. Look at him go! This shit is easy.
“What?” Greta gasps. “How could anyone hate our Eddie?”
“I was jealous,” Buck admits. “I was the hot one. And then in walks this guy with a silver star and those abs.”
“Oh my god, enemies to lovers!” She grins. “And then what?!”
He can do this. He’ll just - - tell the truth until he runs out of truth to tell.
“Um. There was a bomb in this guy’s leg.”
“Fuck off,” Greta whispers, rapt, leaning in. “Like in Grey’s Anatomy.”
“Uh. Maybe. I haven’t seen it. But we’re in the back of this ambulance, with the guy and the bomb - -”
“Holy fuck.”
“And Eddie just knows what to do, because of course he does. He’s good at everything.”
“Hot,” Greta breathes.
Buck nods. “Yeah.”
It was. It really was.
“The bomb,” Maya reminds them.
“Right! Yeah. So we defuse this bomb.”
“It was a grenade,” Eddie notes, finally gracing this web of carefully chosen truths with his presence. “And we didn’t defuse it. We just removed it.”
“Really carefully, though,” Buck insists. “It could have exploded. And it did! The whole ambulance did, after we got out.”
“Oh my god,” Greta breathes. “Was the guy okay?”
“Oh yeah!” Buck grins. “He was fine.”
“And then what??” She asks. “Did you, like, passionately make out with the explosion behind you?”
“We were at work,” Eddie snorts. “But we became - - friends.”
“Best friends,” Buck notes.
“No,” she breathes. “Enemies to friends to lovers?? Slow burn??? For how long!?”
“Long.”
Greta slaps a hand over her chest, like she’s been wounded. “Like, more than a year?”
“More than seven years,” Buck confirms.
“Eddie!” Greta gasps, accusing.
“What!” Eddie frowns. “Why is it my fault?”
Greta narrows her eyes at him. She turns to Buck. “Was it his fault?”
Buck hesitates. “He was - - straight.”
Greta gasps. She stumbles back like she’s been shot. “No!”
“Classic,” Maya nods knowingly. “The denial stage.”
“The unrequited pining stage,” Greta sighs, pouting sympathetically at Buck.
Which - - okay. No. Actually - -
“Ok, no, I - - I wasn’t pining,” he insists. “I was also - - I didn’t know, either. That I was bi. There was no - - I wasn’t - - there was no yearning.”
He’s not sure why that feels important to clarify, but it does.
Greta gasps. “What!? Oh my god. If neither of you were consciously yearning, how did you figure it out?? The yearning is an integral piece of the puzzle!”
“Um,” Buck stalls. He’s not handing Eddie the victory by lying right out of the gate. He has at least a few hours in him. He can do this. He can evade both truth and falsehood. “It - - I - - there wasn’t a cloud in the sky the day I figured out I was bi,” he starts. “Picture a basketball court - -”
Like a goddamn blessing from above, a nearby speaker crackles to life. “Where are my brides?” A voice says, tinny through the speaker. “I need my brides at the welcome tent. Greta and Maya to the welcome tent, please.”
“Fuckkkk,” Greta groans, plonking her head onto Maya’s shoulder. “It was just getting good! We’re coming back to this later,” she declares, pointing at the two of them. “Mingle! Dance! Look pretty! Oh! And I signed you up for the newlyweds game later! So drink lots of wine, because my bride wants to win!!”
“You’re gonna be toast,” Maya promises, taking Greta’s hand as they head for the welcome tent. “Toast!”
Eddie is toast.
He can’t do this. There’s no way he can do this. Greta is going to figure out that he’s lying, and she’s going to kick him out of her wedding, and then he’s going to have to find a new barber and someone else to go golfing with.
He likes Greta! They have the same taste in books! Why the fuck did he agree to this?
“Hey,” someone says, sliding up next to him where he’s having a crisis in front of the barrel of beers. “I can recommend the pale ale. They’re all good, though. Our friend runs the brewery. I’m Adam, by the way. Maya’s friend from college.”
Eddie blinks at him. It takes an embarrassingly long moment for him to notice Adam is holding out his hand. “Shit. Sorry, man,” he says, accepting the handshake. “I was - - somewhere else. College. That’s cool.”
“Mm,” Adam smiles, amused. “I thought you might have just been thinking really hard about which beer to go with.”
Eddie shakes off the spiral. “No. No, I - - the pale ale, you said? That’s yeah. That sounds good. Thanks.”
“Any time,” Adam says, reaching into the barrel of ice and pulling out two bottles of what must be a pale ale. He hands one to him. “So, uh. How do you know the brides?”
Eddie takes a healthy glug of the beer. It is good. Kind of fruity. “Hair,” he says, like a person who has never had a conversation before. Jesus Christ. “Greta is my barber,” he clarifies. “And we golf.”
“Cool,” Adam chuckles. “Greta is great. They make a really sweet couple. The kind of thing that gives you hope, right?”
Eddie hums in agreement. They are a really sweet couple. He’s not entirely sure that Maya likes him, but he’s determined to win her over. Lying to everyone at her wedding probably won’t help with that, but, hey — he’s already regretting ever agreeing to this, so what’s another horrible way it could all go wrong? “Yeah. Yeah, they’re great.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.”
“Jesus,” Eddie laughs. “Sorry, man. Eddie. I’m Eddie.”
Something Eddie can’t quite place flickers over his face. “Eddie,” Adam repeats slowly. “Firefighter Eddie?”
Eddie blinks. “Uh. Yes? Probably. That’s - - my name and occupation.”
“Hot firefighter Eddie with the hot firefighter husband?”
Eddie swallows. Fuck. “Um. Buck? Buck is also a firefighter. Yep. He’s - -” Eddie scans the crowd and finds Buck absolutely locked the fuck in on a game of giant Jenga. He points toward him. “He’s the one being intense about the blocks.”
Adam follows his finger, finding Buck where he’s lowering himself flat to the ground to inspect the structural integrity of the block tower.
“Ah,” Adam sighs. “Good for you, man. He is hot.”
There’s something in his throat. His throat is itchy. “He - - yeah.” That’s not a lie. He is, probably, objectively. He is. That’s just - - a fact. “That’s Buck.”
“You don’t happen to have any hot, single, queer firefighter friends, do you?” Adam sighs. “I don’t know how many more perfect weddings I can handle alone.”
Eddie winces in sympathy. Adam seems nice, but everyone he knows is coupled up. Except for Tommy, but again, Adam seems nice. “Sorry,” he says, and he means it. “I’ll let you know if I find any.”
“Thank you, please do,” Adam says, dejected. “Enjoy the beer. And the hot firefighter husband.”
Eddie snorts. “Thanks, man. Good luck.”
Buck is having the time of his life. Everyone here is so nice, and there are lawn games, and he is destroying all these nice people at the lawn games.
He lost Eddie at some point between cornhole and giant Jenga, which means he hasn’t even seen how fucking good he’s doing at the ladder toss. He’s obliterating the ladder toss. All of his new friends are hyping him up because he’s doing so good at the ladder toss. They keep bringing him drinks, and asking about his job, and complimenting his muscles.
Lesbian weddings are everything he dreamed of and more.
He throws the bolas toward the ladder and watches it catch perfectly on the top rung. Everyone cheers. Someone high-fives him.
Everyone thinks he’s married to Eddie.
This is the best day of his entire life.
Just to be clear, Eddie is not seething. He’s pointedly not seething. He’s just watching, unhappily, as a gaggle of gay men flirts with Buck.
Obviously, of course, he doesn’t care who flirts with Buck. It’s just that, hypothetically, to the best of their knowledge, Buck is Eddie’s husband, and it’s rude to flirt with people’s husbands. It’s impolite. It shows a lack of decorum.
Eddie slurps unhappily at his punch and tries to explode the ladder toss cheerleader committee with his mind.
“Your boy is pretty popular over there,” Greta teases, dropping down on the beanbag next to him. “You gonna go dash their hopes and dreams?”
Eddie sniffs. “Nah. He’s in his element.”
She hums. “Not the jealous type?”
He shrugs. “He’s never made me feel like I need to be.”
It’s the truth, even if Buck isn’t within hearing distance to know it.
The gaggle of ladder toss cheerleaders cheer loudly, Buck throwing his hands up in celebration of whatever great athletic achievement he’s managed to pull off in a game of ladder toss.
He watches as Buck looks over, searching for Eddie in the scattered crowd. He's glowing, genuinely in his element, and Eddie smiles despite himself.
Buck finds him, catches his eye, and grins brighter than the flames of the campfire.
He doesn’t even really mean to, but he motions with a nod for Buck to join them. Buck smiles even brighter somehow, handing the ladder toss balls to the guy next to him, pointing to Eddie as he tells him something.
The guy visibly deflates, and Eddie does not smile harder about it.
Buck weaves through the crowd, apologizing as he bumps into at least five different people on the way.
And then he’s right in front of Eddie. Glowing. Happy. Tipsy. Brighter than the sun. Eddie’s husband. Hypothetically. For the weekend.
He feels warm all over.
It’s probably just the campfire.
“Hey,” Buck breathes.
“Hey,” Eddie replies, reaching out and pulling him onto his knee. He’s not jealous, obviously, because they aren’t really married. It’s just that, again, everyone here thinks that they are, and it’s impolite to flirt with Eddie’s husband in his vicinity.
The gaggle of gays are watching them, which is good. He presses a kiss to Buck’s cheek for good measure, his arms winding securely around his middle.
Buck wobbles, but gets with the program, grabbing onto Eddie’s other knee for balance. “You have cool friends,” he offers to Greta.
Greta snorts. “Seems like they like you, too.”
Buck grins. “What are you guys talking about?”
“How Eddie isn’t jealous of all the hot men ogling you.”
Buck ducks his head. He blushes. “They weren’t ogling.”
“They were ogling," Eddie grunts.
“And Eddie’s hotter,” Buck shrugs, easy, like it’s an objective fact.
“I’m obsessed with this,” Greta grins, pointing between them. “Don’t worry, they’ve been ogling him too.”
“Eddie!” Buck grins, tipsy and happy, and in Eddie’s lap. “See? I told you!”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “No one is ogling me. You’re sitting on my lap.”
Greta sighs dramatically. “God. I do hate it when I’m ogling one hot firefighter, and then another hot firefighter sits on his lap. Totally ruins the ogling for sure.”
“Where’s your fiancée?” Eddie glares. “Shouldn’t you be ogling her instead?”
“He never lets me have any fun, Buck,” she sighs. “He won’t lean into our sexual tension.”
“We don’t have sexual tension. We play golf.”
“And it’s probably unbearable for everyone around us. We’re fucking up everyone’s swing with the amount of sexual tension just radiating off of us, a lesbian and a gay man.”
Eddie’s heart slams into his ribcage. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. They’re - - it’s because they’re sitting too close to the fire, still. It’s too warm. He’s too warm.
“Why don’t you flirt with him instead?” He grumbles, heart racing in his chest. “He loves flirting.”
“I made him flustered,” Greta whispers to Buck.
“It’s easy to do,” Buck agrees.
“No, it’s not. I’m not flustered.”
“It really is,” she agrees, ignoring him. “Does he get this flustered when you flirt with him?”
“He doesn’t flirt with me,” Eddie objects. “We’re not teenagers.”
“He does,” Buck lies.
“Don’t lie!”
“You do,” he insists. “You get all red.”
“You don’t flirt with me!”
“I definitely flirt with you.”
“Why would you flirt with me?”
“Last I heard, the rumor is that we’re married.”
Eddie snaps his mouth shut. Buck is lying — he has to be. Eddie would know if he flirts with him. Buck is just - - he’s a charismatic guy. Kind of. In a bumbling, endearing kind of way. He doesn’t flirt with Eddie. He just - - he’s like that. He flirts with everyone. But not - - not Eddie. Because Eddie doesn’t - - he’s not - - Buck doesn’t flirt with him.
Before he can figure out how to catch Buck in his lie and claim his victory, Greta pats him supportively on the back.
“My bride is drinkless,” she announces, turning to Buck. “But when I get back, as my wedding present, I need the rest of the story of how you and Mr Oblivious got together. He never gives me the details, and I need the details.”
“Go and get your bride a drink and leave me alone,” Eddie grumbles.
“He’s so cute when he’s flustered,” she grins at Buck. “So grumpy.”
“I don’t get flustered!”
“Adorable,” Buck agrees, squeezing his knee where he’s still holding on for balance.
Greta salutes them as she heads for the bar, slipping into the crowd.
As she does, Buck wiggles as if to move off his lap. Eddie doesn’t let him, tightening his hold on his waist.
Buck turns over his shoulder and raises a brow.
“What?” Eddie sniffs. “We’re supposed to look married.”
A dangerous grin breaks over Buck’s face. He swings his legs over Eddie’s lap, turning and winding his arms around his neck in delight.
“You are jealous. You’re fake jealous of your fake husband!”
“I’m not. I just think it’s rude to flirt with someone’s fake husband right in front of them.”
Buck grins, delighted. “I don’t think they know we’re fake married.”
“Well, now they do.”
Buck sighs theatrically. “What if my real husband is right over there, and now he thinks I’m real married?”
Eddie shrugs. “You shouldn’t marry anyone who would flirt with a married man.”
Buck laughs. He leans in and kisses Eddie on the cheek with a loud smack.
The heat of the fire finds its way to Eddie’s cheeks.
“Just making sure they got the memo,” Buck explains. “Did you see me beat everyone at the ladder throw?”
Buck has fucked up. This was a mistake. This was a terrible, terrible mistake.
They’d had an out — Eddie hadn’t wanted to do this. Eddie had wanted to slowly and quietly disappear into the trees. But Buck was riding the high of obliterating everyone at lawn games, and then he was sitting on Eddie’s lap — being pulled onto Eddie’s lap, even — and he’d felt invincible.
He likes being shown off, okay? He has always liked it. But more than that, he likes people thinking that Eddie could be his. So when the opportunity presented itself for Buck to sit on a stage and imply that he and Eddie were married enough to qualify for the newlyweds game, he obviously took it.
“Partner one, what is one thing your partner does that you secretly find attractive?” The game host repeats, like a scene out of Buck’s nightmare. “I’ll give you a few more moments to write your answers down.”
They’re sitting back-to-back, so he can’t say for sure that Eddie is having a terrible time, but he imagines Eddie is probably having a terrible time. Greta giggles drunkenly beside him, where she’s also sitting back-to-back with Maya, but facing Buck.
She grins at him and winks, scrawling down her answer like she doesn’t need to think, or spiral, about it.
Fuckkkkkk. Why did he have to get this question? He needs to build a time machine and go back in time to 15 minutes ago and insist on being partner two. Or just - - you know - - never playing this game in the first place.
The host had lulled them into a false sense of security. They’d been winning. They’d been destroying the competition.
Pet peeves? Easy. Comfort food? He could answer that in his sleep. Who hogs the blankets? Eddie answered that a little too quickly, but what matters is that they got it right.
But this? This is a disaster. This is a deep, dark secret that should never see the light of day.
This is information he was going to take to his grave.
This isn’t - - it’s not what he meant when he made the ‘no lying’ rule. It’s not what Eddie meant. He wouldn’t even know. Buck could just - - lie. He could make something up. He could take this to his grave.
Really, if you think about it, can a whiteboard marker lie? Does it understand the concept of truth?
“Fifteen seconds!” The host calls into the microphone. “Reminder, partner twos, you want to write down what you think your partner’s answer will be.”
Fuck his entire stupid bisexual life.
He takes the cap off his marker and scribbles: When he gets pissy at me
Sue him! Eddie is hot when he’s pissed off! Buck is only human!
The host blows their plastic whistle. “Okay! Reveal on the count of three. One…two…three!”
Buck turns his board around in shame. Giggles spread through the group sprawled over the grass, watching the chaos unfold.
Greta and Maya squeal in tipsy delight, which means they probably got it right, and now Buck is going to lose both the game and his pride.
“No point for Darren and Jake. Sorry, boys!” The host says. Buck doesn’t even know why Darren and Jake agreed to play this game — they’re getting pummeled by the competition. “Another point for Maya and Greta, and another for Buck and Eddie!”
Buck and - - Buck and whomst?
Braving humiliation, he turns to look at Eddie and his little whiteboard.
Eddie is already looking at him, brow raised in smugness.
When he ragebaits me is scrawled on the board.
Holy fuck.
Holy fuck, that’s even worse.
That’s so much worse.
Oh, fuck.
Eddie knows.
Eddie has noticed.
This was the worst idea anyone has ever had in the history of the fucking universe.
He needs to leave. He needs to walk into the woods and wallow in shame.
“Next question! Back to back!” The host instructs. Buck does not need another excuse to hide from Eddie, but he’ll take this one. “Partner two! What’s something your partner does that gives you butterflies?”
Something platonic. Something so chill and normal and platonic. Because Buck is so chill and normal and platonic.
He just has to guess what Eddie would write down in this situation where they are technically lying but also not allowed to lie. It’s easy. It’s simple.
He guesses: Bake his favorite cookies
It’s safe. It’s probably technically not a lie. Buck has definitely felt something like butterflies or maybe heart palpitations at the thought of a really good cookie.
The stupid whistle pierces the air, signalling Buck’s doom. He’s gonna have to turn around and look Eddie in the eye and not be weird about it.
Just a normal, chill guy who thinks it’s hot when his straight platonic bestie gets pissed off being normal and chill about it.
“Three, two, one…” The host calls out.
He turns. He reveals his whiteboard. The crowd erupts in a chorus of awwwwwwws.
Buck braces. He turns his head. He avoids Eddie’s eye as he assesses his answer.
Eddie’s board reads: make our kid laugh
Against his will, his eyes snap up to Eddie’s. Eddie raises an unimpressed brow at him, eyeing Buck’s answer like it has done something to personally offend him.
Our kid.
He - - he gets it. It wouldn’t have made much sense if he’d written “my kid” when everyone thinks they’re married. It feels more like a technicality than a lie.
Either way, they lose the point. Greta and Maya get the point and inch closer to Buck’s victory.
It continues like that, neck and neck. Darren and Jake continue to be an absolute waste of space on the stage — he really hopes this is a wake-up call for their relationship, because it’s verging on tragic.
“What was the first thing you noticed about your partner?” The host asks.
Buck writes: Eight-pack.
Eddie guesses: Abs.
Eddie gets the point. So does Maya.
“What is your partner’s most annoying habit?”
Buck guesses: talking
Eddie writes: nearly dying
“What is your partner most proud of?”
Buck writes: my job
Eddie guesses: being a firefighter
Maya fumbles. They’re back in a tie for first place.
“What does your partner love most about you?”
Buck guesses: my cooking :)
Eddie writes: he wrote his cooking, but it’s how hard he loves
They get a controversial half a point. Greta gets it wrong.
“What chore does your partner hate the most?”
Buck writes: dishes
Eddie guesses: dishes
He gets Eddie’s coffee order. Eddie gets his favorite sandwich toppings.
It comes down to one final question. They have a half-point lead. It’s anyone’s game.
“When did you know your partner was the one?”
Holy fuck. Holy fuck, they can win this. He tries to telepathically communicate with Eddie that they have love-at-first-sight vibes. Well. Okay. Love at, like, 30th sight, but in the scheme of things, love at really very rapid sight. And it’s not a lie! They were, like, instant besties. It counts!
Buck guesses: Ambulance bomb
Eddie writes: El Paso
Buck frowns. Why would it have been El Paso?? Buck wasn’t even in El Paso. If Eddie is trying to throw the game so the brides win, he is gonna be so pissed.
“Ohhhh!” The host announces. “In a last-minute defeat, our brides-to-be take the victory by half a point! It’s our newlyweds, Greta and Maya!”
Greta screeches with delight, grabbing Maya by the face and kissing her. The crowd cheers and whistles.
Buck grins, too, despite himself. He risks a glance at Eddie and finds him whooping for the brides.
He supposes, if someone else had to win, he’s glad it was them. Even if he had to suffer public humiliation with no victory to show for it.
Speaking of, he’s thinking if maybe he just stays very still, Eddie will forget that Buck told the whole wedding he gets horny for him when he’s mad.
Or, maybe, even better, if Buck has enough to drink, he might not even remember it. That’s - - yeah. That’s a good fucking plan. He’s gonna do that.
Eddie is watching, from a safe distance, as Buck and Greta do something vaguely resembling dancing. He’s pretty sure that what Buck is doing is an attempt at dancing — yet he’s somehow making it a public safety concern. He has nearly wiped out three separate people, and tried and failed to do a backflip twice.
Eddie is keeping his distance as a precaution, so that someone is able to provide first aid when Buck inevitably causes bodily harm to himself or others. That’s why. Not because of anything else.
He also wasn’t avoiding Buck when he had found a quieter corner of the party, a few hammock chairs off to the side, and plonked down into one with his beer.
There’s nothing to avoid him about.
If anything, Buck is avoiding him.
In fact, he’s not avoiding anyone! He’s being social!
Maya had appeared not long after he’d found the quiet corner of peace, dropping into the hammock across from him with an energy that conveyed I’d like to sit near you in silence because people keep trying to talk to me, and I don’t want to do that for a bit.
Are they talking? No. But they’re bonding. He can sense it. He’s passing some kind of test.
Is it unfortunate that this test is taking place in pure silence? Sure. Yeah. It would be great if he had less time with his thoughts to think about how easily he and Buck almost won the newlywed game. They lost by half a point.
Darren and Jake have been married for eleven years, and he and Buck absolutely trampled them right out of the gate.
He doesn’t want to think about it. He does not want to examine. He does not want to - -
“You catch the game?” Maya asks, breaking 15 minutes of comfortable silence.
Oh, thank god.
Eddie nods, takes a sip of his beer. It’s important not to act too excited about Maya choosing to talk to him. He can’t blow this. He’s going to be chill, and he’s going to win her over. “Brutal.”
“Fuckin’ brutal,” Maya agrees.
Good. This is good. This isn’t silence.
Eddie gestures to his beer. “Beer is good,” he says. “Friend of yours?”
“Mm,” she hums. “College. Nice guy.”
Eddie hums and takes another sip. He has only met Maya a few times, and he’s come to the conclusion that she’s a woman of few words.
“They do cider, too,” Maya adds after a few minutes. “Seasonal.”
“Nice,” he says. He likes cider. He likes Maya, too. He really wants her to like him. “Apple?”
She hums. “Yeah. Pear, sometimes.”
“Huh!” Eddie says. “I always forget about pears.”
“Mm. Not my favorite fruit,” Maya agrees. “Wouldn’t make my top 10.”
“Mm,” Eddie hums. They definitely wouldn’t make his top 10 either. He’d have to put a stone fruit at the top — maybe peaches? Or mango. He likes mango. He likes apples, too, but they’re not in the top three.
Eddie is still mentally considering his top ten fruits when their little bubble of peace is popped by a flurry of movement as Buck and Greta appear in front of them, drunk and giggling.
“Buck!” Greta gasps, tripping over her own feet. “Look! It’s the loves of our lives! Aren’t they pretty?” She grins, dropping down into Maya’s hammock chair. “Hi, baby!”
Buck grins at them, dopey and rosy-cheeked. Then he turns his gaze to Eddie. His dopey grin somehow gets dopier.
“Hi,” Buck grins, stumbling toward him. He unceremoniously plonks down beside him, in a space that arguably doesn’t have room for him.
“Hi,” Eddie chuckles, trying to readjust his weight so he’s not half-trapped under Buck. “You two have fun over there?”
Buck grins. “I like your lesbian friends, Eddie. We should go to more lesbian weddings. Do you have more secret lesbians you’re hiding from me?”
Eddie snorts. “I wasn’t hiding these ones,” he says as Buck sort of tips over, slumping into him. “You good there, bud?”
Buck hums. “Lots’a wine.”
“I saw you dancing.”
“Was I good?”
Eddie winces. “Uh - - it looked like you were having fun.”
“I was. Woulda been more fun with you, though. You’re the best dancer I know, Eddie. I was telling them all.”
Eddie snorts. “Yeah?”
“Mhm.”
He can’t quite imagine getting elbowed in the ribs and almost knocked out by an aborted backflip while also having to hear the culprit of the elbowing and backflipping drunkenly rant about some guy’s high school ballroom trophies. He hopes they had fun.
“I’m going to dance with my wife!” Greta announces, dragging a bemused Maya behind her. “My betrothed! My tax joint applicant!” She continues, weaving her way toward the dance floor.
As soon as they are out of earshot, Buck grunts.
“Eddie.”
“Mm?”
“I win. You lied.”
Eddie scoffs. “I did not.”
“You did. About Texas.”
“I lied about Texas?”
“Yes. You said you knew I was the-friend-one in Texas, but I wasn’t even in Texas. So that doesn’t make any sense.”
The absolute gall of him to come to Eddie’s corner of peace and invade Eddie’s hammock chair, and accuse him of - -
“You didn't even like me when we were in the back of that ambulance. So you lied. I didn’t lie.”
“No! I didn’t! We were - - that’s when. From the start. I knew you were my friend-the-one from the start. I didn’t lie. You lied.”
“No. No. If we were gonna get married, I would’ve married you after you took over my lease. It would’ve - - no one has ever done something like that for me before. It would’ve been then. That’s when I would’ve known for sure.”
He had thought about this. It was an intentional answer.
“You would have made me wait seven years?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “We would’ve been friends first. Not dating the whole time.”
“Well, when did you first have a crush on me then?”
Eddie hums. “Maybe Carla? Yeah. I think after Carla.”
“So you just wouldn’t have told me about your giant gay crush until you moved fifty states away?”
“It’s like, two states away. And yeah. Maybe. Or maybe when you died. Or when I nearly did. Probably when you did.”
Yeah. Probably then. He had already felt like he was going to die when Buck did, so if he was in love with him, it probably would have been way worse.
“A post-lightning strike hospital bed confession?”
“That’s romantic, right?”
“Yeah. That’s nice. Aw. I’m happy for fake us. That’s sweet. You are my friend-the-one, you know?”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “We’re friend-the-ones. So no one lied. Lie-free lesbian wedding.”
Buck sighs. “Fine,” he declares. “But you have to dance with your friend-the-one at lesbian weddings. It’s the rules.”
Eddie snorts. “Okay, but I’m gonna need another drink.”
Buck wakes up with a raging headache and no idea how he got to bed. But he is in bed. A bed. A bunk bed. Barely. He’s sort of half hanging off a bunk bed, and someone else is in it.
He hopes to god it’s Eddie, or he’s the worst fake husband ever.
Fuck.
What if he cheated on his fake husband at a lesbian wedding? That’s gotta be - - fuck. He’ll never be allowed to attend a lesbian wedding ever again.
“Eddie?” He tries. Prays.
The body he has wrapped himself around grunts in a very Eddie-like manner.
Oh, thank fuck.
“Bunk?” Buck croaks. It’s the best his brain can do at the moment. He hopes Eddie hears the underlying question, which is, why are we crammed into one bunk?
Eddie grunts. “Ladder kept moving,” he says from beneath the pile of sheets.
Oh, good. At least one of them remembers getting back to their cabin. That’s better than the brides he desperately wants to befriend having to drag their unconscious bodies across the campground.
Buck, on the other hand, has literally no recollection of getting here.
“GOOOOOOD MORNING, CAMPERS!” Greta’s chipper voice blasts through the cabin speaker.
The pressure inside his head reaches max capacity. His head is going to explode like a balloon.
He and Eddie groan in unison.
“Happy wedding day to me and my beautiful, perfect, angel wife. If you’re not awake, it’s time to rise and fuckin’ shine! There’s breakfast and coffee in the dining hall, and also advil. The ceremony starts at 2 pm sharp, so don't be late. Okay, yay! Wedding day!! Wakey, wakey!!”
The speaker crackles horrifically for a few tortuous seconds, then clicks off.
“Oh my god,” Eddie groans. “I didn’t know it was possible for noise to be that loud.”
“It’s like she was inside my eardrum,” Buck grumbles. Right there. Screaming. “I think I’m gonna fall,” he adds, because he is and has been slowly falling off this bed since he woke up.
“Huh?” Eddie grunts.
“Off the bed,” Buck adds, as he very slowly loses his grip on the sheets. He can’t quite get himself to move any muscle to stop it.
Eddie, for the first time this morning, appears from beneath the covers, sleep-mussed and messy-haired and one eye open, squinting at him judgmentally. “Stop it,” he suggests, like it’s that easy. “Buck. Just - - grab on to something. You’re falling in slow motion.”
But it’s too late. Eddie does reach for him, but half-heartedly. Buck thumps onto the floor in a heap.
“Ow,” he says.
Eddie blinks down at him from the bottom bunk, unimpressed. He sighs. “I need coffee.”
Eddie has forgotten something important. He’s sure of it. He feels like he has forgotten something, and he also feels a little bit like an open wound. An open wound with a crippling hangover that has forgotten something.
He does not like it. He doesn’t forget things. He does not like forgetting things.
He’s sitting at one of the tables in the dining hall, racking his brain for what he could possibly have forgotten.
Sitting across from him is Buck, who is breathing deeply into his cup of coffee.
“Fuck,” Buck sighs, relieved, as he takes a sip of the almost pitch-black liquid.
“Good?” Eddie asks, doubtful.
Buck shakes his head, then winces at the movement. “No. It’s disgusting. Like battery acid. Makes me feel alive.”
Eddie snorts. Ow. “Ow.”
“Have some battery acid,” Buck suggests. “It helps.”
He takes a sip of his own coffee. It does taste like battery acid. It also does kind of help.
“It’s like a lizard crawled into my brain through my ear and then died in there,” Buck says, apropos of nothing. “And it’s decaying.”
Eddie swallows a gag. “Stop talking. Please stop talking.”
“Sorry,” Buck says, looking very not sorry. “And sorry for, like, cuddling you all night. I don’t even remember how I got to bed.”
Eddie hums. He had sobered up slightly more than Buck by the time he’d dragged him back to their cabin. His memory is splotchy, but he remembers what a herculean feat it seemed to climb to the top bunk. The room was spinning. The ladder kept moving. The bottom bunk was right there, and they were married, so they shared. It had made sense at the time, somehow, even though in practice two large firefighters sharing a single bunk made for children doesn’t make sense at all. In fact, it makes for a very fucked up neck and back.
“S’fine,” he grunts. “Not like we haven’t done it before.”
Buck shoves a spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, and Eddie might actually puke. He can’t even look at it.
“True,” Buck says, mouth full. Eddie swallows a gag. “And we are married.”
“Right,” Eddie agrees, nauseated and right on the precipice of remembering something. It’s right there. “Yeah. That too.”
Something is wrong with Eddie.
He doesn’t know what, and he doesn’t know why, and he does feel like there’s a dead lizard rotting inside his skull, but he’s 100% sure that something is up with Eddie.
Fuck.
He probably said something weird. He probably made it weird, and now he can’t even remember what it was.
God damn Jared and his delightful small-batch brewery.
“Hey Buck!” Someone Buck has literally never seen before smiles. Buck is on his way into the dining hall bathroom, and the guy is on his way out. “How are you and Eddie holding up after last night?”
“H-Hey!” He tries. “Yeah, y’know - - suffering.”
The man snorts. “I bet. Hey, I never gave you my number.”
Buck blinks. “Oh. Uh. I’m - - Eddie is - -”
The man snorts. “Yeah, man, I know. Everyone within a 100-mile radius knows that you two are adorable and married and obsessed with each other. You said you had a single firefighter friend who might want it?”
Buck nods, dumbly. Does he? “Right,” he nods. Who the fuck was he talking about? “Yeah. Definitely.”
“What’s your number? I’ll text you,” the man says, handing him his phone. There aren’t really a whole lot of other options, so Buck types in his number.
“Honestly, feel free to pass it on to any of your hot firefighter friends, okay? I’m not joking. I’m entirely serious.”
“S-Sure, man,” he manages. “Yeah. Will do.”
“I will literally make you best man at the wedding,” the man insists. He’s absolutely not joking.
Buck tries to smile, but there’s a lizard decaying in his brain. “Very cool,” he says, for some reason. “I’ll, uh - - I’ll see you around. Gotta - - piss.”
The guy slaps him on the shoulder, which Buck somehow feels inside his brain. “I’ll see you around, man!”
His phone buzzes in his pocket almost immediately. And then again. And then again. He waits until he’s sitting on the toilet seat in one of the cubicles, because he’s not sure if he’s going to puke, pass out, or piss, and opens the messages.
Maybe: Adam
Hey Buck! It’s Adam. This is my number!
Thought you’d want to have this too :)
1 video
Oh, dear god. He can tell from the preview that it’s a video from last night, but he doesn’t remember anyone taking a video of him last night. He sucks in a deep breath. He presses play.
Drunk Eddie is swaying in the middle of the frame, rosy-cheeked and nursing a beer.
“What’s my advice for the newlyweds?” Drunk Eddie asks.
“Yeah!” A voice says from behind the camera. Probably Adam. “For a long and happy marriage.”
Eddie frowns, like he’s thinking really hard. “I don’t know,” he says.
“Like you and Buck,” Adam prompts.
“Oh!” Eddie smiles. “Like me and Buck. Yeah.”
There are a few long moments of Eddie just grinning at the ground.
“So...what’s your advice?” Adam prompts again.
“To be like me and Buck?”
“Yeah. I’m making a video for the brides.”
“Okay. Yeah,” Eddie nods, eyes twinkling. “Buck is the best. He’s so - - he’s like the sun. Or like - - like the firepit!” He says, pointing to the campfire behind him. “That’s Buck. He’s so pretty and bright and warm, and you want to be right next to him. I always want to be right next to him. He keeps everyone so warm.”
Oh. That’s - - Buck is feeling very warm. He’s feeling very, very warm.
“That’s sweet,” Adam says.
“He is,” Eddie agrees. “He’s so sweet. He’s a dork,” he snorts. “But he’s smart, too. He’s really smart. And really brave and strong. He’s the best. Don’t you think?”
Adam snorts. “Yeah, man. Sounds like you really love him.”
Eddie blinks at the camera. He gasps. “Oh,” he whispers. “I do. Yeah. I really love him. I really love him. I really love Buck!” He grins. “Yeah. That’s - - that’s it! I love Buck.”
He hears Adam laugh behind the camera. “Okay. So your advice is to… marry Buck?”
Eddie frowns, affronted. “What? No. No. Who wants to marry Buck? You can’t - - they can’t - -”
Adam chuckles. “Advice for the brides,” he reminds him.
“Oh!” Eddie blinks. “Yeah,” he frowns. “No. Not - - not my Buck, but your Buck. You should marry your Buck. That’s my advice.”
“Oh, easy peasy,” Adam jokes. “Any idea where I might find him?”
Eddie shakes his head sadly. “Oh! You should ask Buck. BUCK!” He yells out. “BUCK?”
Drunk Buck can’t have been far from him while this was all happening, because he almost immediately pops into frame.
“Eddie!” he grins, looking just as drunk as Eddie. “Yeah, Eddie?”
“Adam needs to find a Buck.”
Buck blinks at him once. Twice. Somehow understands. “Oh,” his drunk self says. “A firefighter?”
“I won’t say no to a firefighter if you have one in mind.”
Buck hums. “I know lots of firefighters.”
“Incredible. I’ll give you my number.”
“You’re so smart,” Eddie grins at Buck. “And helpful. Like the firepit.”
Buck beams. Adam sighs from behind the camera. The video ends.
Eddie cannot fucking shake the feeling that he’s forgetting something really important.
He can’t even focus on the ceremony — he’s too busy trying to figure out what the fuck it is he’s forgetting. It’s no one’s birthday; he checked.
Chris is taken care of, no issues there.
He didn’t leave the oven on or forget to lock the house.
He even looked up the date of Mother’s Day to make sure it hadn’t somehow changed months without him knowing.
It’s right on the tip of his tongue — like a blur of a memory, occasionally teasing him with a flash of a glimpse too quick for him to catch.
To make matters worse, Buck is being weird.
He does, as promised, cry during the ceremony. It’s a beautiful ceremony; he doesn’t blame him. But he’s, like - - fidgety. And avoiding Eddie.
He’s definitely avoiding Eddie.
They sit next to each other during the ceremony, but the moment it’s over, Buck flees his vicinity, scurrying off to god knows where. Perhaps to puke in a bush.
He figures he’ll maybe splash some water on his face, take some painkillers, down a bottle of water, and come back to find Eddie, but no.
No.
Buck does everything except find Eddie. At one point he spots him helping the baker carry the cake in from the kitchen. He spends an entire hour talking at Greta’s great aunt, who is actually, genuinely deaf, and so old that they pureed her dinner.
It’s bordering on harassment, really. Eddie has to do something.
“Hi,” Eddie smiles, swooping in to save Great Aunt Deidre from whatever the fuck Buck is doing. Great Aunt Deidre doesn’t acknowledge his presence in any way. “Hi,” he says to Buck instead. He grabs his hand and tugs. “Come dance with me.”
Buck opens his mouth to protest — Eddie knows he’s going to protest. “She’s not listening to a word you say, bud. You’ve been talking to yourself for an hour. We’re dancing.”
If Buck does protest, Eddie doesn’t hear it. He drags Buck by the hand through the crowd of slow-dancing couples until he finds a space for the two of them.
He moves Buck’s arms to his own shoulders and grips tightly at Buck’s waist. It looks like they’re slow dancing, but in reality, Eddie is very strategically holding him captive.
Buck avoids his eye.
Eddie sighs. He sways them enough to keep up the facade.
“Why are you being weird?” He demands.
“What?” Buck asks, feigning innocence. “I’m not.”
Liar.
“You’re avoiding me.”
“No I’m not.”
“You just lost,” Eddie points out. “You’re lying.”
“I’m - - fuck,” Buck groans. “Fine. I’m being weird.”
“Why are you being weird?”
“You were being weird first!”
Eddie delivers his most unimpressed look.
“I think - - we drank too much,” Buck sighs. “That’s all.”
Eddie narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”
“Adamsentmethevideo,” Buck says, all in one breath.
Eddie frowns. He shuffles them around the dance floor, anticipating every time Buck is about to step on his foot. He has no idea what he’s talking about. “What video?”
“You don’t remember it either,” Buck breathes, relieved, maybe? Or…disappointed?
“What video?”
“It’s fine,” Buck insists. “It’s nothing. You just - - you were really nice. About me.”
Eddie frowns. “Okay. What did I say?”
“I don’t want to say.”
Oh. Eddie does not like that. He does not like that at all. Fear strikes in the very heart of him.
“Buck. What? What did I say?”
“You said I was like the firepit!” Buck admits with a groan.
Eddie blinks. “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks, but a speck of a memory clears.
I always want to be right next to him. He keeps everyone warm.
“I don’t know! But it was nice! You - - you were being nice.”
“Okay?? It’s not like that’s a historically unheard-of thing to happen?”
“About me!” Buck clarifies, like that changes anything. “You were being nice about me!”
The nausea has returned. It’s - - he’s remembering, he thinks. He’s so close to remembering.
He’s the best, don’t you think?
“What are you not saying?”
It sounds like you really love him.
“You said you love me,” Buck sighs, avoiding his eye. “And I know we’re just pretending, and I know you didn’t mean it like that, but it just - - I don’t know, okay? I didn’t know I - - I’m sorry. I’ll try to stop being weird about it.”
Oh. I do. Yeah. I really love him.
I really love Buck.
Eddie blinks. Oh, fuck. That’s - - that’s it.
He - - holy shit. Yep. Yeah, it’s coming back to him now. That’s definitely it, the thing he forgot.
It had seemed so obvious, so crystal clear when Adam had said it like that.
And it - - look. It…it makes some sense, doesn’t it? It really - - yeah. Yep. He can see how drunk him might have thought - - how someone could argue - -
Jesus fucking Christ.
He’s in love with Buck.
He realized he’s in love with Buck and then forgot and then remembered again in the span of 24 hours. He needs to sit down.
“Oh,” he breathes. “Okay.”
He really needs to sit down. Or lie down, even. That would be good. But he’s in the middle of a very crowded dance floor, and he’s gripping Buck’s waist for dear life just to stay standing.
Buck, who he is in love with.
Fuck.
He turns his head, searching for a path to an exit of some kind, or at least a seat, but instead he’s greeted with a giant camera lens right in his face.
“What a gorgeous couple,” the photographer grins. Eddie has no idea how long she has been standing there, snapping photos of them. “Give him a spin for me, honey.”
Eddie really doesn’t know what to do right now. He has no idea what the fuck is going on. His whole worldview is crumbling around him, and his head is all fuzzy, and he really just doesn’t know what to do, so he just…does as he’s told.
He spins Buck.
Buck ducks awkwardly under Eddie’s arm to complete the full spin. His ballroom coaches would be appalled.
The photographer grins down at her camera. “So handsome!” She says. “Go on, give him a smooch,” she instructs. “It’ll be a framer!”
And Eddie just remembered that he just figured out he’s in love with Buck, which means he’s probably gay, and he’s dancing at a lesbian wedding surrounded by people who are so comfortable in their skin, and he’s not really sure which way is up, and this lady keeps telling him to do things, so he does.
He kisses Buck.
When he was envisioning a weekend-long lesbian wedding, he has to admit he didn’t picture walking through the forest in the pitch black with a lantern he stole from the party, following Eddie’s Find My Friends dot into the wilderness.
Because Eddie kissed him.
And then he fled.
Into the forest.
In the pitch black.
After kissing Buck on the mouth. And, like, good, too. It was a good kiss. It was a heated kiss. It was a mutual, takes-two-to-tango kind of kiss. With Eddie.
Because Eddie kissed him.
And then…fled. Which is - - that’s why he’s trekking through the forest after dark.
He’s gotta be close — Eddie’s Find My Friend dot is right here. He’s basically on top of it.
He frowns, squinting in the low light of the lantern like he’s in a fucking Indiana Jones movie. If a pit of snakes appears at any point, he’s gonna fucking scream. He will. He’ll scream. He - -
Oh.
That’s a treehouse. Right above him.
If the pit of snakes is in this fucking treehouse - -
He sighs. He pockets his phone and starts up the ladder, keeping an ear out for pits of snakes. He makes it to the top and is met with a small wooden door. He doesn’t really know what the etiquette is for forest treehouses, so he knocks.
It’s silent for a few moments, and then…
“...hello?” Eddie says from inside the treehouse.
Buck pushes open the little door and holds up the lantern to find Eddie sitting on the floor in the corner of the treehouse, looking sheepish.
“I’m coming in,” Buck warns him. “Don’t laugh at me if I get stuck in this tiny doorway.”
Eddie snorts. That’s good. He’ll take that.
He makes it through the tiny door without getting stuck and plonks himself down on the floor across from Eddie. It’s a tight fit for the two of them.
“This is nice,” Buck offers. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“It came furnished,” Eddie shrugs.
Buck moves the lantern around the room, lighting up the walls scattered with graffiti and gum. He passes Eddie’s face, accidentally lighting him with a spotlight. Eddie blinks at him owlishly.
“It’s, uh, pretty dark out there, huh?” He says, just to say something.
Eddie sniffs. “You didn’t send out a search party, did you?”
“No. No, just me and my lantern. Last I saw, Greta was giving people drunk haircuts. Probably for the best, actually, that you left when you did.”
Eddie snorts. “Ah, so that’s why you came after me. For the sanctity of the curls.”
“You know they’re my number one priority. Oh, hey!” Buck grins, bringing the lantern closer to a carving in the wood of the wall. “Look! Greta + Maya 2009! With a heart around it! This has to be them, right? That’s so cool.”
He runs his fingers over the indent of it — wonders if those kids had any idea they’d be back here one day getting married.
“Do you think everything would be different if we’d met at camp?” Eddie asks.
Oh, okay, it’s happening. They’re talking about it.
He turns back around and places the lantern on the floor between them.
“I mean - - yeah. Probably. But I think we’d still end up pretty close to here. Definitely firefighters.”
Eddie hums. “I was a quiet kid.”
“I wasn’t,” Buck grins. “I would’ve gotten you into trouble.”
“I said I was quiet,” Eddie clarifies. “I didn’t say I didn’t get into trouble.”
“That would’ve been fun,” Buck smirks. “Getting into trouble together.”
Eddie smiles, too, like he’s picturing it. Teenage Buck and Eddie running around summer camp, getting into mischief.
He does not expect the next words out of Eddie’s mouth to be: “Do you think you would’ve had a crush on me?”
A breath catches in his throat. In the spirit of not lying - - “Yeah,” he whispers. “Probably.”
Eddie scratches at a mark on the floor. “Would you have done anything about it?”
Buck swallows. “I don’t - - know. I was pretty stupid, so. Maybe.”
Eddie chuckles. “You’d get us into trouble?”
He swallows. “Uh. Maybe - - I don’t know. I used to rig spin the bottle to land on my crush. I’d - - I probably would’ve done something like that.”
Eddie lets out a breath. “So you’d kiss me?”
Buck nods. “I’d - - yeah. I’d want to.” He swallows. “What would - - what would you do? If I’d - - if I did that?”
Eddie snorts. The tiny space is so charged, but Buck can’t help but smile at the sound of Eddie’s laugh. “Probably run away. Find a treehouse to have a sexuality crisis in. Actually do all the finding yourself bullshit you’re supposed to do as a teenager instead of whatever the fuck it is I’m doing now.”
Oh. That’s - - okay. Okay.
“W-What are you doing now?”
“This is a treehouse,” Eddie explains. “And I am having a sexuality crisis in it.”
Play it cool. Play it cool. Play it so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so cool.
“Because you kissed me?”
“She said to,” Eddie huffs.
“Since when do you do anything because some lady says to?”
“Since when do you kiss me?”
“You kissed me,” Buck reminds him. He was there. He remembers it in high fucking definition.
“You kissed me back.”
“Yeah. I did. And then you fled into the forest.”
Eddie gestures around him. “I had to - - find a treehouse.”
“For the sexuality crisis,” Buck nods.
“Yes.”
“Did it help?”
“No.”
Okay. Okay, how does he - - there’s a pivotal piece of information that he’d really like to clarify, but he’s trying to be chill about this. He’s playing it cool.
“If we were - - if we had met at camp,” he tries. “And I’d had a crush on you, and we’d played spin the bottle, and you’d run away - - would you be freaking out because we kissed and that ruined everything, or - -”
“Or,” Eddie answers before he’s even finished talking.
Oh thank god. “Or,” Buck continues anyway, because he needs to know. He needs to know as much as Eddie is willing to tell him. “Because you kind of liked it.”
Eddie lets out a breath. His head clunks against the wall. “I liked all of it,” he admits.
“The kissing?”
Eddie laughs. “Yes, Buck. Jesus Christ. I liked the kissing. And I liked people thinking we were together. I liked being married to you.”
“Oh. You - - really?”
Eddie sighs, long-suffering. He picks up the lantern, moves it to the side, shuffles forward, and kisses him. Just leans on over and kisses him again, for the second time, right here in the treehouse.
Eddie’s hand is on the side of Buck’s face, and his lips are on his lips, and Buck’s hands are - - nowhere. They’re doing nothing. They’re wasting this opportunity.
He gets it the fuck together and grabs for Eddie. He gets a palm on Eddie’s thigh, the one he’s using to lean across the space, and another in his hair, pulling him closer.
He’s kissing Eddie Diaz. Eddie Diaz is kissing him.
“Fuck, that’s rough on the knees,” Eddie gasps, pulling away and sort of collapsing next to Buck, taking the weight off his knee. Buck’s hand moves with him, staking its claim on his thigh.
“Woah,” Buck breathes. “Y-Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”
“Fuck,” Eddie breathes. “This is - - fuck.”
Buck thinks he agrees, but he’s not entirely sure how he should be interpreting that.
“It’s - - is it?”
“I feel like a teenager,” Eddie says, like he’s annoyed by it. Buck is not annoyed by that. He’s not annoyed by that at all.
“So - - good?” He asks.
“I can’t even look at you right now,” Eddie says, putting a hand up to block him. “Stop looking at me like that.”
Buck can’t help the grin that takes over his face. “Like what?”
“Like you want to kiss me.”
“I do want to kiss you.”
“We’re in a treehouse. I have old person knees.”
Buck snorts. “You have youthful knees. I like your knees.”
“Don’t - - flirt with my knees.”
“I wasn’t! I’m - - you kissed me. Again.”
Eddie groans. “I can’t believe I’m having a sexuality crisis in a treehouse like a teenager. I have a teenager.”
“Teenagers don’t have a monopoly on treehouses,” Buck tells the hand Eddie is still holding up in front of Buck’s face. “Or sexuality crises.”
“This is so embarrassing."
“It’s not.”
“I can’t even look at you.”
Buck bites down on a grin. “You can look at me.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“Buck.”
“Eddie.”
Eddie sighs. He lowers his hand. His eyes are squeezed shut.
“Eddie,” Buck laughs.
With another sigh, Eddie blinks open his eyes.
He looks at Buck.
Buck looks at Eddie.
They move at the same time.
Because he’s a gentleman, thank you, Buck sacrifices his knees to the hard floor of the treehouse, essentially planting himself in Eddie’s lap.
Someone groans. He doesn’t know who. Maybe both of them.
He has his hands in Eddie’s hair, and Eddie’s tongue is in his mouth, and - -
“Eddie. Are you having sex in my treehouse?”
Buck pulls back so fast he whacks his head on the roof of the tiny treehouse.
“Ow, fuck!” He says, at the same time Eddie chokes:
“No!”
Greta’s head pokes through the doorway. Maya is standing on the ladder behind her, amused.
“Great!’ She grins. “Then please vacate the premises so that I can.”
He lets Buck lead the way because he is still recovering from being kissed senseless by his best friend in a treehouse.
If he had been thinking more clearly, he would not have let Buck be in charge of directions.
Buck is terrible at directions.
“I think it’s just through…here?” Buck frowns, scratching his head as they come to a clearing. Instead of the party, they’ve found a jetty by the lake.
“I think we went the wrong way,” Buck theorizes.
“No. This is good,” Eddie says. This is better. “I need to - -”
He makes his way to the jetty and lies down on the cool surface of it. The sky is scattered with stars above him.
Buck joins him, lying down beside him, looking up at the sky.
“When we found out that Shannon was pregnant, I drove out to the middle of nowhere and just stared at the stars,” Eddie explains.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I was so - - overwhelmed. The stars help. Makes me feel - - insignificant.”
Buck hums, thoughtful. “Yeah. Like we’re like a pair of tiny little bugs on a tiny little rock, if you really think about it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie chuckles. Exactly that. “The stars don’t care that I’m - - in love with you, or whatever. Just - - a bug on a rock.”
Buck chokes beside him. “I think they probably care a little bit,” he manages.
“Mm?”
Buck nods. “Definitely. I think they’ve been working hard to make sure you do. I think it was their plan all along.”
Eddie snorts. He braves a glance at Buck. He’s looking back at him. “You think the balls of flaming plasma have been scheming?”
“How else do you explain it?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’m trying to feel insignificant, and you’re not helping.”
“Sorry,” he says, sheepish. He turns away from Eddie and looks up at the sky. “Did you know that the word starstruck used to be about actual stars? It meant to get, like, enchanted by them. Put under their spell.”
Eddie hums. He gets it. He’s still looking at Buck.
“Lots of ancient cultures believed that the stars controlled our fate,” Buck continues. “That our destiny was literally written in the stars.” He tilts his head to the left, then to the right, squinting up at the stars. “I think they for sure know something we don’t.”
Eddie looks up and tries to see his future in the stars. He tries to follow the map of the constellations from right here on this jetty to someplace else — some future where he knows what to do with all of this.
But it’s just - - stars.
It’s just the sky.
He doesn’t see anything up there that he hadn’t seen right next to him.
It’s an impossible expanse — it makes him feel small and insignificant. Buck, too, feels impossible and limitless, but in the complete opposite way — like just being near him, in his orbit, makes Eddie something special, too.
“I’m in love with you,” he declares, definitively, still looking up at the stars. “And I think I’m probably gay.” He reaches blindly for Buck’s hand — Buck meets him halfway, threading their fingers together. Eddie laughs, a little wild. “And we’re bugs on a rock in space.”
Buck squeezes his hand. “Are we still doing the existential star thing?” He whispers. “Or can I say it back?”
“I don’t know,” Eddie says, honest. “I don’t want to fuck this up.” Buck is his best friend. He needs him.
Buck squeezes his hand so hard, like he’s trying to show him just how tightly he’s willing to hold onto this — onto them.
“We’re a - -” Buck starts, hesitating. “We’re a pair of tiny bugs, right? On a tiny rock. Like always. Just - - you and me. Being bugs. We’re good at that. It’s just the same. Pair of tiny bugs on a tiny rock.”
God, Eddie loves him. He loves him. He loves that he will speak in Eddie’s panicked little existential language because he knows he needs to hear it.
“This is my favorite rock,” Buck continues. “And you’re my favorite bug. I don’t want another bug…partner? Or - - fuck. Something less - - I’m trying to think of a monogamous bug that isn’t a roach or a termite.”
Eddie snorts. He loves him, he loves him, he loves him. “Termites mate for life?”
“Y-Yeah. The king and queen of the colony do. I don’t know if there are gay termites. Probably, right?”
Eddie smiles over at him. He loves him. “So, what you’re saying is that you want to be a gay termite with me?”
Buck opens and closes his mouth. “Eddie,” he whines. “You know I meant it more romantic than that!”
Eddie chuckles. “We can go the roach route - -”
“No!” Buck cuts him off, slapping a hand over Eddie’s mouth. “I want to be gay termites with you. I do. So bad. I didn’t even know that I wanted that, but it’s the only thing that I want. If you started a gay termite colony with someone else, I would literally burrow into your kingdom and beg you to leave with me. It would wreak havoc on your colony’s social society, and I wouldn’t even really feel bad about it.”
Eddie giggles, amused, beneath Buck’s palm.
“It would lead to societal collapse, Eddie,” he insists. “You can’t do that to your people.” He sucks in a deep breath, hand still secured over Eddie’s mouth. “And I am in love with you. Just by the way. Like, really, really in love with you a lot. And I’m sorry if it’s bad timing to say it now, but I physically can’t not say it any longer. I didn’t even - - I didn’t know. This whole thing wasn’t some kind of ruse to play husbands with you. Which - - maybe that’s more embarrassing? But I really didn’t know. But I do. I definitely do. Love you, I mean. Like, in love with you. In a really intense and gay way. And it’s okay if you kind of freak out about it; I know this is a lot. And I’m realizing I probably shouldn’t have my hand over your face, just in case you are going to freak out about this. But I’m kind of scared that you’re going to say that you don’t want to be gay termites with me, even though I don’t think you will say that. You can - - obviously you can say whatever you want. I’m just - - I’m filibustering. I’m gonna - - I’m gonna move my hand so you can - - uh. Breathe.”
He loves him. He loves him.
Buck cautiously lifts his hand from Eddie’s mouth.
He wants to say so many things, all at once. His brain is a jumble of words that feel urgent and important, all elbowing each other in a race to get out first. He thinks this might be what Buck’s brain feels like most of the time.
Buck stares at him, wide-eyed and nervous, waiting.
Eddie waits for the panic to hit him — to steal his breath from his lungs and wring his heart in his chest.
It doesn’t. He looks at Buck, Buck looks at him, and he feels - -
Struck.
Slapped over the face with it.
So entirely certain that this is what he wants and that this is where he’s meant to be.
“Yeah,” he breathes. “Okay. Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Buck croaks, a fire-bright grin taking over his face. “Gay termites?”
Eddie snorts. “How about we drop the metaphor?”
“You don’t like my metaphor?” He pouts. “Or is it a simile?”
God, Eddie loves him. “I love you like a termite loves a piece of drywood,” he offers with his best straight face. “Simile.”
Buck grins. He’s so beautiful. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me,” he says. Eddie fears he might not be joking.
He does love Buck like a termite loves a piece of drywood, so he leans in and kisses him, because he wants to, and he can.
“Fuck,” Buck laughs against his lips, all but rolling on top of him. “I really fucking love lesbian weddings.”
Buck is once again crammed into a single bunk bed, wrapped around a warm and sleeping body.
There’s no decaying lizard in his brain, and the pang of panic that the sleeping body isn’t Eddie is nowhere to be found.
He knows it’s Eddie. He’d kissed him senseless right before they said goodnight, then Eddie had kissed him again. There’s no good reason for them to be sharing a single bunk this time; he just can’t imagine being a whole bunk away from Eddie’s ass now that he’s allowed to touch it.
This truly, truly is the best day of his fucking life.
He wraps himself tighter around Eddie and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to pull him under. He can’t wait for tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
He’s on the precipice of sleep — right there on the edge, when his eyes snap open. He sits up with a gasp.
“Eddie. Eddie.”
Eddie grunts.
“Eddie.”
“Wha?” Eddie groans, shoving his face into Buck’s pillow.
“Eddie.”
Eddie cracks one eye open. “What?”
“How did you know that I get horny when you’re mad at me?” He pouts. “I thought I was hiding it.”
Eddie snorts. “Buck,” he sighs, grabbing at him and pulling him back down. “Shhhh. It’s sleep time.”
“Eddie!” He whines, nevertheless wrapping himself back around him.
“Was a good guess,” Eddie mumbles, lying.
“You’re lying to me.”
Eddie pats at Buck’s chest. “Sleep.”
“Did you think it was weird? I wasn’t trying to be weird. You’re just really hot, okay? It’s not my fault.”
Eddie chuckles. “Buck,” he laughs. “What do you think? Keeping in mind that your hand is currently on my ass.”
“Oh,” Buck smiles, delighted. “You liked it.”
“Sleep,” Eddie begs.
“Am I pissing you off?” Buck grins, whispering seductively in Eddie’s ear.
“There is another bunk, and I am not afraid to use it,” Eddie threatens.
Buck gasps. He grips Eddie’s ass tighter. “You wouldn’t.”
“Would,” Eddie disagrees, but he’s already mostly asleep again, so Buck isn’t sure what leg he has to stand on there.
“Love you,” Buck whispers, not only to Eddie’s ass, but also to Eddie himself.
“Love you,” Eddie mumbles, right against the soft skin of Buck’s throat.
Thank the lord above for lesbians.
“Bye, bye, bye!” Greta squeaks, squeezing the life out of Buck, his overnight bag thrown over his shoulder. “Thank you for being here! We’re gonna be best friends, okay? You promise?”
Buck grins, delighted. It makes Eddie smile, too. “I promise,” he agrees. “I’ll see you in Catan!”
Greta smiles over at Eddie. “He has no idea what it is, does he?”
“Not a clue,” he confirms. “But he’s really pretty.”
Buck grins at him. “You think I’m pretty?”
“I think you’re really pretty,” Eddie confirms, leaning in to kiss him. “You got the keys?”
“I got em!” Buck smiles, waving the car keys hooked around his finger. He grabs Eddie’s bag off his shoulder and throws it over his own. “I’m gonna throw these in the truck,” he says, leaning in to kiss him again.
“Bye, Buck!’ Greta grins.
“Bye! Thank you for inviting me to your lesbian wedding!” He says, saluting on his way to the truck.
Eddie expects more of the same — a hug, a sloppy smooch on the cheek, a promise to set up a date for games night. Instead, Greta just looks at him. Studies him. Looks between Buck’s retreating back and Eddie’s face. “You look happy,” she decides.
He is.
“So do you.”
“I am,” she confirms. “I’m delighted. And I cannot fucking believe that worked.”
Eddie frowns. “What worked?”
She grins, pressing up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Boys are so stupid,” she whispers there lovingly. “Invite me to the real wedding, yeah?”
“Everything okay?” Buck asks as Eddie drops down into the passenger seat of the truck.
Yeah,” Eddie says, reaching out to take Buck’s hand over the center console. “How would you feel about chaperoning the robotics field trip together? We can make it a date.”