wishing to be the friction

Eddie’s been working at the 118 for a few months when he finally accepts the invite to go out for drinks with the rest of the team. It’s not that he doesn’t like them, it’s not even that he’s antisocial, per se, it’s more that Eddie hasn’t done this kind of stuff in a while. 

He had his army buddies, but it’s different. They bonded over war and trauma, bonded over watching their friends die, bonded over not being able to sleep at night, so you might as well get to know each other.

The 118 are friends the way he was friends with Joaquin throughout all of high school. They go out for drinks and have barbecues at each other’s houses, and Eddie’s been quietly watching from the sidelines, only ever really hanging out with Buck, waiting for them to ask just one more time so he could cave. 

It was Buck that did it, because of course it was. After their first few shifts—after Buck got over his posturing and insecurities—they became friends. Actual friends. The kind that spend their free time talking to each other. Buck regularly spam texts him about a new TV show he’s started at three in the morning. 

Eddie’s not usually awake to respond, but he always texts him back after getting Christopher ready for the day.

It’s fun. Eddie will be the first to admit he’s not entirely used to it—not after all the chaos that his life has been since he became a teen dad, but he likes it. Enough that it scares him sometimes, how easily he’s let his guard down . 

All it took was one blue eyed, pleading look for Eddie to cave and agree to go out with them.

He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. It’s not like he’s never gone out for drinks before. 

Okay, admittedly, he’s a little rusty, but it’s like riding a bike, surely. He just needs to get out of his truck and walk through the doors. 

Easy enough in theory. 

Apparently damn near impossible in practice. 

Eddie takes a steadying breath. He’s been in an active warzone, a noisy bar with his friends shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

There’s a knock on the passenger side window. 

Eddie can’t help but smile when he turns and sees Buck. 

He mouths something Eddie doesn’t quite understand, words muffled through the glass. Eddie frowns at him, gesturing with his hands. Buck rolls his eyes and motions for him to lower the window. 

“What is it, Buck?”

Buck’s grinning, cheeks flushed like he’s already had a few drinks. 

“You’ve been sitting here for ten minutes. I can see you through the window.”

Eddie flushes, too, but not from alcohol, just from the sheer, mortifying knowledge that his entire team’s been watching him try to gather up the nerve to go inside. 

This is why he doesn’t go out. 

Well, that’s not exactly true. He hasn’t gone out with the 118 yet because he is so stupidly hopeful. He is so desperate for them to like him the way Eddie’s already started to. It’s just him and Christopher. He doesn’t talk to his parents more than necessary, he and Shannon finally finalized the divorce a few months ago, papers sent in the mail, and the group chat with his friends from the army isn’t really active anymore. 

So he’s a little bit lonely. It’s fine. Eddie’s learned to be okay with it. He doesn’t need anyone else, anyway. 

Buck notices his discomfort, because Buck is stupidly perceptive. Stupidly in tune with Eddie’s emotions. It’d freak him out if he hadn’t made an extra cup of coffee two days ago just because Buck shut the door of his Jeep a little harder than he normally would.

Chimney had noticed, smirking when Buck’s frown melted away into a dopey smile. 

Eddie didn’t get it, but he didn’t think asking for clarification would’ve been much in his favor. 

“No one else has noticed,” Buck tells him. “They all think I just forgot my wallet in the car.”

Eddie’s never had a friend quite like him. Buck winks, taps out a rhythm against the door, and  motions with his head for Eddie to get out of the car. 

“C’mon.”

“Pushy.”

Buck just grins, wide and teasing. “You like it.”

“Whatever, Buck,” he says, but rolls up the open window and gets out of his car. 

Hen and Chimney wave them over when they see them walk through the doors. The bar is dimly lit, and there’s a calm level of rowdiness Eddie only ever finds in places like these. 

Buck’s hand is on his shoulder, warm and solid as he guides him between the tables to get to their friends. His hand ghosts down to his lower back before getting shoved awkwardly in the pockets of his jacket. Eddie eyes him curiously. 

Buck clears his throat.

It’s been happening since the bomb. Buck will do something and then seemingly regret it not two seconds later, and Eddie’s yet to be clued in onto what could possibly be making his expression sour the way it does. 

If Buck was gay, he’d probably think he had a crush on him, but he’s not. He told Eddie as much during a twenty-four hour shift where neither of them could sleep, drinking slightly burnt coffee in the station’s loft, trading secrets and memories in low voices, the quiet ease of nighttime wrapped around them like a blanket. 

“You haven’t said much about your personal life,” Buck had pointed out. 

“Not much to say.” Eddie shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee and regretting it. Whoever made the last pot needs to be permanently banned from touching coffee forever. 

Buck rolled his eyes. “Come on, no wife? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“I’m not gay,” Eddie had answered. Buck’s expression was carefully neutral, and Eddie realized he was probably trying to gauge whether or not the new army guy from Texas was homophobic or not. He might’ve gone to Catholic school his whole life, but Eddie wasn’t an asshole. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, obviously. It’s just not me. You’ve met my son and I have an ex-wife. Shannon.”

Buck nodded, a little awkward, still. “Cool. I mean, me neither. I have a girlfriend. Well, maybe not anymore.”

Eddie leaned forward, forearms resting on the counter top, and listened as Buck spilled about Abby. 

It’s almost a pity. Buck’s beautiful. Strong hands, that kind of charming smile that he’s seen girls go weak in the knee for. If Eddie was gay, he’d probably have a crush on him. And he’d probably read into every small touch from Buck, so it’s a good thing he’s not into him like that, because he’d hate to ruin what they’ve got going. 

He knows Buck’s got a history of being left behind. Maybe he’s just excited about having a friend like Eddie, the same way Eddie’s excited about having a friend like him. Buck’s touchy, Eddie’s figured that out already, but Eddie always second guesses before reciprocating. 

Buck probably just doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“You made it!” Hen says, getting up to greet him with a hug. 

“Yeah, kinda had to. I’m pretty sure if I hadn’t come by my own free will, Buck would’ve shown up at my doorstep and dragged me out tonight.”

Hen and Chimney both laugh good naturedly. Maddie does, too. Eddie has only met her once, when they were moving furniture into her apartment. She greets him with a little wave and he responds with a nod of his head. 

Chimney’s leaning against her a little close to be in the just friends category. Eddie catches Buck’s eye as they sit down, an eyebrow raised in their direction. 

Buck rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling so wide that it doesn’t have much effect. 

“I’m glad you came,” he murmurs, low in his ear. The bar’s not loud enough to warrant it, but Eddie doesn’t really mind. “Kinda sucks to third wheel when you’re not here.”

“You can’t talk with Hen?”

“Nah, it’s not the same. Besides, Karen comes sometimes.”

“You should just come over on nights like that.”

Buck’s cheeks seem to grow pinker. Eddie doesn’t blame him, it’s a little hot in the bar. Hot enough to have him feeling a little flustered, too. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Eddie, nice of you to finally join us,” Chim says, tone teasing like it always is. “If we had known all it would take was Buck being the one to ask, we would've done it weeks ago.”

“It wasn’t Buck, I was just finally free today.” He’s not sure why he lies, just knows that he doesn’t like the way Chimney’s shit eating grin spreads wider. 

“Keep this up and he’ll never come out with us again,” Hen mutters, taking a swig of her beer. 

“I’m gonna get myself a drink,” Buck tells him, half out of his seat. “You want anything?”

“Whatever you’re getting is probably fine.”

“Cool.”

That’s how it starts, probably. Or, at least, that’s what Eddie will be blaming it on. Because one drink turned to two turned to three turned to four, and before Eddie was really aware of what was going on, he was well past the tipsy he promised himself he would stay at. 

Buck’s giggly and touchy beside him, hand slung across the back of Eddie’s chair. The weight feels grounding against his shoulders, feels good. Eddie’s too drunk to examine exactly why. 

“We should get an Uber,” Buck mumbles. His eyes are trained on Eddie’s lips, and he’s leaning in so close Eddie can smell the mint gum he just popped in. “We can go to my place. ‘S closer.”

Eddie nods and lets himself be led out of the bar by Buck’s hand on his wrist. Hen left an hour ago, and Maddie and Chimney were too wrapped up in conversation to notice them leaving. Eddie gets why Buck wanted him to come. Being a third wheel definitely sucks. 

“What are you thinking about?” Buck asks as they crawl into the backseat. A bored looking middle aged man greets them, but Eddie doesn’t pay him much mind. 

“You,” he answers. Buck’s brow creases in the middle and his mouth hangs open a little, like he’s not sure he heard Eddie correctly. Eddie’s words catch up to him. “Not–not like that. Not in a gay way. Just thinking about how you mentioned being a third wheel earlier.”

Buck’s body sags in relief. “Oh, yeah.”

The driver snorts.

The drive to Buck’s apartment is short, and it’s spent with Buck’s thigh pressing against his. Eddie doesn’t know why he slid to the middle after Buck got into the car, but he likes this. Likes the easy touches, the familiar comfort. The last person he could touch this freely was Shannon. 

Not that Buck is anything like Shannon. He’s a man, for starters, and not Eddie’s wife, but he’s the first person Eddie’s trusted in a really long time. A lot longer than he cares to think about. 

Buck’s thigh is warm against his, his hand is solid against the small of Eddie’s back as they head up into his apartment, and his smile is a little bit blinding under the lights of the elevator. 

Eddie must’ve had more to drink than he thought. 

Buck clears his throat as they walk into his apartment, side stepping away from Eddie. He misses the warmth of him almost immediately. God, he needs to be around people more often. This is getting kind of pathetic. 

They’re silent for a stretch that’s long enough to get awkward. Buck’s standing behind the island, fingertips tapping impatiently against the countertop. 

“Why are you so restless?”

“I shouldn’t have invited you over.”

Eddie blinks. Doesn’t know what to say. The words sink a little deeper than he wants to let them. 

“No, Eddie—” Buck starts, sighing and fixing his posture. He gestures awkwardly to his pants. “Drinking always goes straight down. I used to always pick up girls when I went to bars, and then I was with Abby, so.”

Eddie half expects him to do jazz hands around the outline of his dick against his jeans. It’s big. Not that Eddie notices on purpose, it’s just kind of…there. And Eddie kind of can’t tear his eyes away. 

It’s not a big deal, and it’s not like Eddie’s staring at his best friend’s dick in a gay way. Buck’s the one that pointed out the fact that he gets horny when he drinks. 

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s hard, too, until he reaches down to adjust his pants. His knuckles brush against his clothed cock, and, yeah, that feels a little too good, considering he’s not by himself. 

Considering he’s with Buck. 

“Are you…” Buck starts to ask, voice a little breathy, expression a little dazed. 

“You can jerk off, if you want to,” Eddie blurts out. Buck looks taken aback, but his hand drifts down to where his erection is still straining against his zipper. Without breaking eye contact, he presses the heel of his hand down. Eddie watches, holds his breath even when Buck’s hitches. He doesn’t think he could move if he tried, stuck in a trance as Buck palms himself. 

“Like that?” Buck asks, his voice rough. Jesus, just a touch and Buck already looks like he’s being taken apart. 

Eddie doesn’t dare speak. Doesn’t dare show anyone how affected he is. It’s hard not to be, though. Sex is sex, is what he’s always figured. It was like this in the army, too. You had to get off, didn’t really matter who was around to listen. 

Though, granted, Eddie never watched. 

“Couch?” Eddie manages to ask, just because he doesn’t think jerking off in Buck’s kitchen is the most sanitary thing in the world. 

Buck laughs, a little breathless. “Yeah, we can go to the couch.”

Eddie doesn’t let it get awkward. He sits down on the cushions and unzips his pants, pulling them down to his mid-thigh. He holds his cock lightly in his hand. He’s not going to jack off if Buck isn’t doing the same. That feels too weird. 

Luckily, Buck doesn’t hesitate to strip his pants all the way off, tossing them onto the floor. 

Buck’s dick is big. He knew it would be, has shared showers with him, just saw the outline of it in his jeans, but it’s different like this. It’s different seeing the way it’s flushed pink, the way it curves, the way it leaks precome when Buck wraps his fist around it, head thrown back as he lets out a long groan. 

Eddie, because he’s drunk, wants to see how it feels in his hands. 

It wouldn’t even be that gay. He can do it to himself. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal, he knows guys who would do the same in the army. Not that Buck’s apartment in Los Angeles is the same thing as a war zone in Afghanistan, but the point still stands. 

Eddie knows plenty of straight guys who’ve mutually jerked each other off. 

It’s his perfectly sound reasoning for hovering a hand between them, silent question hanging in the air. Besides, if he gets Buck off, the odds of Buck wanting to reciprocate are high, and having someone else’s hand will always beat his own. 

A hand’s a hand.

Buck nods. A little jerkily, but he nods, scooting closer on the couch. Their legs don’t touch, not the way they did in the Uber. That would probably be a bit much, all things considered. Buck’s eyes are wide, and Eddie can tell he’s holding his breath.

Having another person’s dick in his hand is weird. Not good or bad, necessarily, just foreign. A feeling he’s not used to. Buck’s cock is solid and warm and it jumps a little at the touch. Buck throws his head back, biting his lip to keep from making any noise. Eddie almost asks to hear him, but doesn’t. This is already crossing too many lines. 

He makes sure to catch his thumb on the head and use the precome as lube, slicking up the slide as he moves his fist along the shaft. It’s kind of an awkward angle, if he’s being completely honest, but it looks like it’s definitely doing something for Buck, so Eddie keeps going. 

“Fuck,” Buck mumbles. His bottom lip is white where his teeth are digging into it. Objectively speaking, Buck’s one of the most attractive people he’s ever seen. His eyes look impossibly blue in contrast with the bright flush of his skin. 

Eddie might have a thing for blue eyes. 

Not that he has a thing for Buck—

Whatever. He can freak out about this later. Right now, he’s still drunk enough to speed up his movements, tighten his grip just enough to have Buck’s hips twitching like they want to fuck up into his hand. 

“Eddie, I’m gonna—” is all the warning he gets before Buck’s come is coating his fingers. Some of it manages to hit his cheek, which is weirdly impressive. 

“Sorry,” Buck mutters, a little sheepish. He sinks into the cushions, staring up at the ceiling. 

Eddie wants his hands on him so bad, but Buck looks like he’s having a mild panic attack processing what just happened. 

Eddie feels for him, but not more than he feels for his dick in that moment. 

He wraps a hand around himself, and, fuck, the slide is wet and slick and dirty. It’s Buck’s come making the movements easier, and goddamn if that doesn’t just make Eddie harder. He gets himself off fast and rough the way he always does it, and comes quick enough to be embarrassed about it with Buck’s lazy gaze trained on him. 

“I’ll get you next time,” Buck assures him. 

Eddie suddenly feels incredibly sober. 

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “I should go.”

Buck doesn’t try to stop him. Eddie’s heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of his ribcage. He knows what panic attacks are, but he’s never had them. Not even during the war. Figures it’d happen after giving his best friend a handjob. 

He just gave Buck a handjob. 

What, and he cannot stress this enough, the fuck just happened?

+

Eddie can’t stop thinking about it. Obviously. It would be weird if he could stop thinking about it. He’s just surprised he had enough foresight to stop thinking about it long enough last night to remember he needed to get his truck from the bar. 

And then he proceeded to think about it the entire time he drove back home. 

It’s just…he hasn’t had sex with anyone in a long time. He hasn’t trusted anyone enough to be able to do that, and he’s not the kind of person who has one night stands with strangers. He got used to being by himself, got used to getting by with his fist—between the war and being a single parent, you get used to it pretty fast. 

So of course he can’t get the thought of Buck's face as he came out of his head. The crease between his eyebrows, the pink along his cheekbones, the pink along his cock. Eddie never thought he’d call a dick pretty—and it isn’t, it’s a penis, but everything about Buck is pretty, so Eddie figures it could be worse. He’s seen porn, and Buck’s was definitely nicer. 

Christopher hasn’t seemed to notice anything’s off about his behavior, and the team doesn’t say anything when he comes in on his next shift. No one seems to realize Eddie has done something incredibly gay. It doesn’t seem to be written on his forehead, or anything. 

Hen keeps looking at him, though. He’s not sure if gaydar is a real thing or not, but Hen’s look is a little too piercing, a little too knowing for his tastes. She’s always waiting to make very pointed eye contact with him every time he tears his gaze away from Buck. 

She doesn’t say anything, though. Eddie’s not sure he’d know how to cope if she did. 

It’s a shift from hell. From the deepest pits of it, even. It’s hot, the kind of hot that makes you feel like you can’t breathe a little even though it’s supposed to be heading into winter, and they’re all in t-shirts and suspenders. Eddie isn’t attracted to him in an I love you sort of way, but he can’t lie and say his dick doesn’t stir when Buck adjusts his suspenders over his stupidly built shoulders.

Thank god they’re not doing any rescues that require a harness, because Eddie thinks he’d lose his mind if he could see the perfect outline of Buck’s cock through his pants. The cock Eddie has seen and touched. 

He needs to think of something else before he gets fired for pulling Buck into a dark corner. 

That’s assuming Buck would even want to do something again. He did say next time, but he can’t exactly guarantee it, it’s not like they’ve talked about it.

At all.

Probably because there’s nothing to talk about. Buck is acting like nothing’s changed. And if Buck can act like nothing’s changed, Eddie can, too. He’s comfortable enough with his sexuality to understand that sex can be just sex, and it doesn’t make him gay just because he can’t stop thinking about doing it again. 

It’s not like Buck’s ignoring it, either. He’s just not mentioning it. Out loud, at least, because sometimes he catches Buck’s eye. They’ll be leaning against the engine as Hen and Chimney do their thing, and Buck will stretch, making his legs look stupidly long, and he’ll grin when he notices Eddie staring. 

Or now, the two of them in the empty loft while everyone takes a nap in the bunkroom. 

Buck’s not doing anything Eddie hasn’t seen him do before. He’s just making them grilled cheeses, but the way he’s bracing him against the countertops, arms flexing against the marble like he wants Eddie to notice him. 

Well. He does. 

They don’t say anything, though. Eddie keeps waiting for someone to point it out, for someone to realize that the sweat beading on his forehead isn’t from the sun beating down on them earlier, for someone to notice the smirk Buck keeps sending his way. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s zoned out until Buck’s called out his name. 

“Eddie?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

Eddie clears his throat. “Yeah. Fine.”

The corner of Buck’s mouth twitches. 

“You’re an asshole.”

Buck smirks, shrugging. “Maybe.”

“Eat your sandwich, Buck.” 

Buck’s laughter echoes through the building, loud enough that he doesn’t hear Hen’s steps approaching until she’s right beside him. 

“You didn’t make me a grilled cheese?” she asks, stealing a bite from the uneaten half on Buck’s plate. 

Buck isn’t looking at her when he answers. 

“I like Eddie better.”

Eddie’s blood rushes to his ears so loud he almost doesn’t hear Hen’s response. 

“I’m sure you do.”

Almost. 

“So,” Hen says. “Josh is making us all go to a club for his birthday. Not this Friday, but the next. You two are coming, because I am not about to deal with Chimney and Maddie at a club by myself.”

Eddie’s not sure how excited he is about the idea of mixing alcohol and Evan Buckley again. 

Okay, dead lie, he knows exactly how excited he is about the chance to have an excuse to have Buck’s hands on him this time around. Buck did say “next time”. Eddie’s mind is refusing to let go of that part. 

“Yeah, we’re in.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” Eddie cuts in, just to be annoying.

“I’ll text Pepa myself to make sure you have a night off.”

Eddie’s brow furrows. “You have my aunt’s phone number?”

Buck looks at him like he’s an idiot. 

“Yeah? I got it when we went to check on your grandmother in the hospital.”

Hen is looking between the two of them with a level of interest Eddie doesn’t want to examine. 

“And why were you visiting Eddie’s grandmother in the hospital?” Hen asks, eyebrow raised. 

“I wanted someone to go with me. It was during our shift, it was just easier to go with Buck.”

Hen doesn’t look like she’s buying the excuse at all. He tried. 

“Right. I’m gonna go back to the bunkroom. You two…yeah.”

Eddie waits until she’s all the way down the stairs to drop his head onto the counter. 

+

Eddie shouldn’t get drunk. He knows this. But the house is empty, and quiet, and he’s been hornier these past few days than he knows what to do with. Eddie’s always considered himself a happy medium between virgin and serial dater (or serial hook up-er?), but he’s never felt anything like this before. Nothing even close to the way his clothes all seem to fit too tight, or the buzz that thrums right below his skin. 

So he drinks. Has a few beers. Wishes he still got high like he used to in high school, because he remembers how it felt. The headiness of it, the easy way lazy kissing slowly turned into his fingers up Shannon’s skirt, into her mouth kissing down his chest until they were both sated and sex-tired. 

He doesn’t want to do that anymore, not when he has a son that could come home any minute. That, and he’s pretty sure Bobby and the department wouldn’t be too pleased if he found out.

Point is, Eddie’s already starting to feel the effects of the alcohol by the time he gets his phone out.

Eddie:

Come over?

The reply comes instantly.

Buck:

omw

He’s not sure if he’s imagining the urgency in Buck’s text. Probably. It’s a crazy thing to read into. If Eddie scrolls up in their texts, he’ll find this same conversation copied and pasted over and over. Buck probably doesn’t even realize Eddie’s a little tipsy and a little warm and a little horny. 

They should probably watch a movie. Eddie should at least pretend like there’s a reason why he invited Buck over other than wanting to jack him off again.

He’s looking through Netflix when there’s a knock on the door. Eddie’s sure the light headedness he feels comes from standing up too fast. Nothing else. 

Buck’s rocking on his heels on his front porch, fidgeting with his own hands. He looks…expectant. Hopeful, even. 

Thank god. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Come in.”

It’s awkward. Buck’s standing in the foyer, Eddie’s standing just on the other side of the archway to the living room, and it’s a little uncomfortable, the way they’re looking at each other. It’s almost intense. Almost heated, almost wanting. 

Just shy of it. 

Eddie doesn’t know how to ask Buck if he wants to get off together again without it sounding incredibly gay. Buck seems to be in the same boat, judging by the way his gaze keeps flickering down to Eddie’s crotch.

“So—”

“Do you—”

They say at the same time. 

Buck bursts out laughing, loud and bright and infectious, and it’s like the stiffness that had settled between them suddenly melts away. 

“Do you want a drink?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Eddie grabs a six-pack from the fridge and drops it unceremoniously onto the coffee table. He gestures at it, silently telling Buck to go ahead.

It feels like they’re both drinking just to have an excuse. 

Eddie doesn’t particularly care. If they don’t talk about it, it’s not a big deal. 

It isn’t long before they’re getting restless. It’s like his body remembers exactly what happened last time they were in this situation: drinks, couch, Buck. There’s already heat pooling in his gut. In Buck’s too, by the look on his face, but he’s braver. Bolder. Reaches over and lets his hands hover above his belt like a silent question. 

“I did say next time.”

Eddie nods. Buck grins.

“I’ve, y’know, never done this to another person. So tell me if it sucks.”

They’re both less drunk than they were the first time, and whatever was in the air that had them holding back any noise doesn’t seem to be in the air tonight. Buck gets his cock out, fumbling a little with the button on his jeans from the angle he’s at. It’d probably be easier if he were between Eddie’s legs, but that would mean getting Buck’s face a little closer to his dick than they’re probably comfortable with. 

His hand is one thing. Having Buck’s mouth—plush and pink and open—right next to the head of his cock is another thing altogether. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Anyone else’s hand is better than your own.”

“Right,” Buck nods, staring at the bulge in Eddie’s underwear like he’s going to declare war against it. 

“Buck, it’s not that big of a deal. And you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I can get myself off in the bathroom.”

“I’ve seen you get off, you don’t have to go to the bathroom.”

Eddie grins. “Exactly.”

“Fine,” he huffs, pulls down Eddie’s underwear and wraps a hand around his cock in one swift movement. 

Eddie groans, throwing his head over the back of the couch. Yeah, that feels good. That feels really good. Fuck what Buck said about not knowing how to do this. Maybe it’s because he has a dick himself, because he seems to know exactly how fast, how tight, how rough Eddie needs it. 

“Shit, man,” Eddie hisses. 

“Yeah,” Buck says, a little dazed, like he can’t believe he’s actually doing this. Eddie gets it. He felt the same a few nights ago. “God, Eddie, is it weird that you look hot like this?”

A laugh bubbles out of his chest. Seemingly in sync, precome spurts out of the head of his cock. It’s kind of a weird visual. Laughter induced come. It’s probably a thing. Eddie’s not gonna think about it too hard. 

“Nah, you looked hot the other night, too.”

Buck smiles the way he does every time someone praises him. Okay, maybe not the exact same way. This one’s accompanied with the speed up of his hand and he looks considerably more flushed. 

It’s weird how not weird it is. Eddie’s had enough time to think about what this means for his sexuality, and has come to the conclusion that it doesn’t have to mean anything if he doesn’t want it to. Buck obviously feels the same, if the way he’s managed to get one hand around himself as he works Eddie is anything to go by. They’re just friends who need to let off some steam. Nothing weird about doing it together. 

“How do you like it? When you do it for yourself?” Buck asks, picking up speed. Eddie bites his lip to hold in his moan before realizing he doesn’t have to, letting it escape past his lips. 

“Like that, fuck, Buck, like that.” 

Buck snorts. “Fuck, Buck. It rhymes.”

Eddie laughs. Laughter induced come must be a thing, because it isn’t long before he’s coating Buck’s hand. He has just enough foresight to pull his shirt up so the come doesn’t land on the fabric. 

“Huh,” Buck says, looking at his fingers. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “You want me to?” 

Buck looks at him curiously, hand still working himself. He doesn’t seem to realize what Eddie is asking until Eddie rolls his eyes and leans over, hand hovering the same way Buck’s was earlier. 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Eddie snorts, but wraps a hand around Buck’s cock. The slide isn’t as rough as it was after the bar, probably because the moment doesn’t feel so surreal, not the way it did that night. It’s just a Thursday night. His son is having a sleepover at his abuela’s because she’s going to Texas for the weekend and wouldn’t get to see him, it’s a balmy kind of warm outside but Eddie’s sweating for completely different reasons, and his hand is quickly jerking off his best friend. 

And it’s…fine?

Yeah. It’s fine. 

Buck comes with a low groan that makes heat in Eddie’s gut stir. If he could still get it up like he could when he was a teenager, he’d probably be down with going again. 

They pull their pants up together, a silent agreement to not have their dicks out any longer than necessary. Eddie realizes Buck is still holding one hand up. It takes a second for it to register that it’s because the hand is covered in come. His come. Right. 

“I’m gonna wash my hands,” Buck says a little awkwardly, leaving Eddie alone in the living room. 

He turns on the TV because thinking about anything right now is just going to give him a headache.

Still. Buck takes a long time in the bathroom. Eddie’s been staring at the Netflix home screen for what feels like forever. His mind wanders without his permission, before he even realizes it’s drifted. 

He takes a moment to think about the absolute meltdown he would’ve had over this a year ago. A year ago, Eddie was still convinced he could make it work with Shannon. A year ago, his parents still lived down the street, still harassed him and fought over every detail about raising Christopher. A year ago, having his hands on another guy’s dick would’ve made him spiral. 

As it is, he’s much more secure in himself now. Eddie’s never been a homophobe, but he used to be the kind of guy who had a hard time even admitting when another guy was hot. 

Now, though? He’s way more comfortable with his sexuality. Enough that a couple handjobs between friends doesn’t stir up any feelings. 

Not really at least. Sure, he’s thinking about it, but he’d be thinking about sex with anyone. Not that he and Buck are having sex sex, but it’s still sexual. Still a type of sex. 

He shudders, thinking about what sex sex between two guys entails. Obviously he’s well aware of how it works—he passed Texas’s poor excuse of a sex-ed course, and his girlfriend before Shannon read a disturbing amount of gay Harry Potter fanfiction. 

Mainly the latter. 

He knows how it works, is the point, and he can’t imagine having someone’s dick in his ass. 

See? Not gay. 

Buck comes out of the bathroom and his skin isn’t flushed pink like it was a minute ago. His skin looks slightly damp, but more like he splashed water on his face. Not so much the sweaty, blushing mess he was as he came. 

“I’m gonna make popcorn. You should set up a movie,” Eddie says, giving Buck no choice but to stop hovering over the couch like he’s scared it’s going to bite him. 

Buck snorts as he sits down. “I hope you wash your hands.”

Suddenly, the fact that his hands are still a little sticky is glaringly obvious to him. 

“Shut up.” 

Eddie debates washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Would it be too gross? It’ll get washed down the drain, but that still feels wrong. 

He trudges down the hall to the restroom. 

Distantly, he’s pretty sure he hears Buck chuckle. 

Eddie’s smiling as he rubs soap between his palms. He’s not sure why. Probably the orgasm. It’s also a little bit the fact that if his parents found out, they’d have a heart attack, and Eddie’s always liked making the vein in his dad’s forehead twitch. 

He doesn’t think about much as he puts the popcorn in the microwave. Picks at the dirt underneath his fingernails, instead. Almost brings his hand up to his mouth to bite a hangnail off but decides it hasn’t been long enough since his hand was wrapped around Buck’s dick for that. 

He snips it with kitchen scissors instead, and successfully manages to not make himself bleed. 

“What’d you choose?” He hands Buck the bowl of popcorn as he sits down on the couch, rolling his eyes fondly when Buck immediately shoves a handful in his mouth. 

“Don’t judge.” The words are muffled around the popcorn.

Eddie looks at him curiously, waiting for him to press play.

Suddenly, there’s disco music and crystal blue waters and Buck’s trying to casually sing along even though Eddie can see the way he’s tapping his foot and knows Buck wants to dance and jive and have the time of his life along with Sophie on the screen. 

“Mamma Mia? Seriously?”

“I said don’t judge!” Buck laughs, though, and sinks further into the couch, letting popcorn waterfall into his mouth as he sings along. 

Eddie lets himself get sucked into the musical and Buck’s off-key singing beside him. The easiness of the afternoon hits him out of the blue. In between Mamma Mia and Dancing Queen Eddie is suddenly struck with a feeling he can’t quite name. It feels like someone tried to stuff his favorite pillow in the space between his lungs and his ribcage. It hurts to breathe a little bit. 

Sometimes it’s hard to believe he gets to have this. That moving to Los Angeles wasn’t the dumb mistake his parents thought it would be. 

He has his abuela, Pepa, his team. Buck. A city he likes, a house that regularly needs some bolts tightened but that’s quickly becoming his home, and a son that’s happy here. 

Hell, Eddie’s happy here. 

Buck catches him staring at the side of his face, furrows his eyebrows in question. 

Eddie shakes his head. Doesn’t quite know how to put it all into words yet. He’ll do his best when Buck’s birthday comes around and he needs to write how much he means to him in a card with a shitty pun that cost way too much at CVS.

For now, though, he can offer Buck another beer. 

And his truly terrible backing harmonies. 

+

The bar is dimly lit and a little more crowded than a Tuesday night calls for, but the company’s nice. 

It’s Buck. The company is always nice.

The rest of the team is supposed to show up soon, but, right now, it’s just him, Buck, some country song Eddie’s pretty sure was popular when he was in High School, and a cold beer in his hand.

Honestly, it’s hard to imagine a better combination. 

“Did you see that link I sent you? I know Chris likes minecraft, so I was trying to understand it, you know? There’s an aquatic update coming out soon, I sent you a link about it. Looks really cool, apparently it’s an update to how you can move through water. I think. To be honest, it was a little confusing.”

Eddie chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. He’s not sure whether or not he imagines the way Buck’s eyes linger on his mouth. It’s…tentative, what they’ve got. There’s something hovering in the air, heavy and a little scary. Scary because it’s new, because it’s–it’s not bad. So far from it, but Eddie’s still hesitant to call it good. He’s not sure what that would mean for him, so he doesn’t say anything.

Refuses to let his thoughts linger the way Buck’s eyes seem to want to. 

They’ve done it twice. They’ve gotten each other off twice.

Eddie might be a little desperate to do it again. 

That’s not what tonight is about, though. Tonight is about hanging out with the team, it’s about celebrating not losing a single victim at a big call they had in the first half of their twenty four hour shift yesterday, it’s about camaraderie. 

Eddie is not gonna ruin that because of his dick. Despite how much he seriously wants to.

He needs to get a grip. 

The man’s voice is crackly through the old bar speakers, but Eddie makes out the words well enough. She got this wild look on her face, and said “your truck or mine?”.

He hopes the way he flushes isn’t too noticeable. 

Buck’s staring at him expectantly. Right, he asked Eddie a question. 

“Sorry, zoned out.”

“Uh huh,” Buck says, smirking. 

“Shut up.”

Buck’s smile goes from cheeky to smug to genuine as he waves to someone across the room. Eddie turns around to find Hen and Chimney waving back, albeit less enthusiastically. Buck, Eddie’s learned, is both a giggly and a horny drunk. Progressing in that order. 

“Hey, guys,” Hen says with a smile. “Do you want to grab a booth?” 

“Sure, yeah,” Buck answers for them. “We were just waiting for you guys to show up.”

“Bobby not coming?” Eddie asks.

“Michael’s got the kids tonight,” Chimney explains. Everyone nods in understanding. Buck looks a little disgusted, and Eddie has to fight the urge to laugh at the disgruntled expression on his face. 

Hanging out with the team is easy. Eddie always has a good time with these people, which isn’t something he was expecting, if he’s being honest. He likes working with a team, likes the camaraderie of it, but you don’t really make friends in a warzone. You bond with people, these people you have to be willing to die for, and he has a group chat with some of the people he served with, but it’s not like it’s particularly active. 

The 118 groupchat is. There are multiple groups, obviously. One used exclusively for work updates and trading shifts, one for the entire a-shift, and one for this little group Eddie’s found himself a part of. The groupchat name is constantly changing, courtesy of Buck (and, occasionally, Chimney).

Currently, it’s One Aye-Teen which Bobby and Hen absolutely hate, but Chimney and Buck seem to find hilarious. 

“What about you, Eddie? Where’s Christopher?” Hen asks.

“He’s with my Tía Pepa. Usually he stays with my Abuela, but Pepa recently found a pile of old board games in her attic, so Chris asked to stay with her.”

“He’s eight, right? Maybe next time we can join forces? I’m sure Denny would love a sleepover. And they’re at the age where they’re easier together.”

Eddie smiles, still doesn’t know what to do with the fact that these people genuinely like him. That they genuinely want him around. 

“That’d be great Hen, yeah. I think he’d love that.”

The night moves quickly, all of them joking around, teasing each other about missteps on calls and how red Chimney got when a girl tried to slip him her number when they were trying to put out a fire at a sorority. 

Eddie’s pretty sure Buck was pouting that she didn’t offer him her number, actually. 

Whatever, Eddie’s just glad no one’s trying to hit on him. He knows girls usually whisper among themselves (relatively loudly, considering he can always hear them) about how attractive he is, and it’s nice, the ego boost, but it’s also kind of annoying. He’s not trying to be hot, he’s just trying to do his job. 

The fact that he needs to stay fit so he can carry bodies out of buildings is just part of the job description. 

(And, okay, maybe Eddie can admit that he likes feeling like he looks good, but doesn’t everyone?)

There’s a girl who keeps eyeing him from the other end of the bar, and it’s making him antsy in ways he doesn’t like. There’s something about the smirk on her face that has him tearing his gaze away uncomfortably. 

“You okay?” Buck asks, leaning into his side. 

Something akin to realization dawns across the girl's face, and she looks away quickly when Eddie looks back over at her. 

Weird.

He’s not sure what that’s about. 

Distantly, his mind keeps running back to the past couple of times he and Buck have been tipsy together. The way Buck looked as he came, and how Eddie knows that look now. It’s—they haven’t hooked up that many times for Eddie to be, well, hooked on it, but they’ve hooked up enough that Eddie’s anxious to do it again. 

Buck seems to be thinking about it, too, judging by the way his knee keeps pressing insistently against his. 

“I’m surprised my sister isn’t joining us today,” Buck says teasingly, his hand dropping down to rest on his own thigh, but his fingers keep brushing against the outer seam of Eddie’s jeans. It’s such a small touch, all things considered, but it makes him take a long swig of his beer, more affected than he wants to let on.

“I asked, she was going out with some of her friends from dispatch,” Chimney complains, sulking into his drink.

“When are you gonna finally ask her out? Maddie could do a lot worse than you.” 

Chimney shrugs. 

“Exactly. She’s done a lot worse, and I want to wait for her time. I know Doug did a number on her. I don’t want to rush her, I want to wait for her to be ready, you know?”

Buck looks stupidly pleased at his answer, and it makes Eddie smile. 

“I think you passed,” Hen stage whispers, knocking her shoulder against Chimney’s. 

“Whatever,” Buck says with a roll of his eyes, fond and easing as he gets up to grab another round for them.

“What about you, Eddie?” Chimney asks. “Do you have anyone that haunts your past?”

Eddie swallows thickly. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Shannon. And, obviously, there’s someone in his past—he has a son—but he doesn’t know how to talk about it. Yes, I got married at eighteen, and, yes, me and my ex-wife were teen parents, and, yes, I watched my friends die before I could even legally drink, but it’s fine, really, and we don’t have to talk about it because it makes people uncomfortable. 

“Why does Eddie look like he’s about to flee? Don’t scare him away, I need my partner,” Buck says as he returns, eyebrows knitted in genuine concern. 

Eddie shakes his head, trying to dismiss his worries, but it’s hard when Hen chimes in. 

“We were talking about Eddie’s exes.”

“Oh, Shannon?” Buck says, slapping a hand over his mouth when he realizes Eddie probably hasn’t said anything. Eddie just snorts, squeezing Buck’s knee under the table. 

“Christopher’s mom. We met our freshman year, and then reconnected and got back together as seniors. One thing led to another and…”

“And you guys had a kid,” Hen fills in. She’s not looking at him with any sort of pity, which is strange. Usually, people find out you knocked up your girlfriend before graduation and they look at you like you’re some kind of broken child they need to coddle.

It drives him crazy. 

Hen’s face is just understanding. Which is bizarre. 

Buck was cool about it, too. He figured out the math pretty easily, considering Eddie’s just a few months older than him with a seven year old. Not hard to put those pieces together, even Buck managed the calculation. 

And Buck loves Chris. Has loved him since they met after the earthquake, loves him so genuinely and completely that Eddie doesn’t know how to react. It’s not—Buck’s not Christopher’s dad, or anything, because that would imply things about Eddie’s sexuality that are blatantly untrue, but he’s there. 

He’s present, and he comes over to help Eddie pick up scattered lego pieces when Chris has a tantrum and spills them all over the floor, and they try and fail to learn recipes together on nights they both have off but Eddie doesn’t have anyone to leave Chris with. 

Buck found him Carla, and babysits when Carla’s off but Eddie needs to go help his abuela. 

He’s Eddie’s best friend. And it’s nicer than he knows how to put into words.

“Interesting,” Chimney says, wiggling his eyebrows. Buck flicks a balled up straw wrapper at him. “And you guys don’t talk anymore?”

“No, we divorced pretty amicably back when I still lived in Texas. She lives in LA, too, actually.”

“Planning on reconnecting?” Hen asks. 

Buck stills beside him. He wouldn’t notice if they weren’t pressed so close together.

Good, Eddie thinks a little selfishly. He wants it, too. 

“Nah. Maybe just for Christopher’s sake.”

“Oh man, if we want to talk about exes, I was dating this girl one time who accidentally bleached her eyebrows off and got second degree burns on her skin because of it. It was terrible,” Buck starts, rambling on about shitty exes and hookups gone wrong.

Eddie has never been more grateful for someone in his whole life. 

The rest of the night passes by easily enough—no one circles back to topics that make Eddie want to get up and drive until he passes the California border. Hen leaves first, saying she wants to spend some time with her wife before it gets too late and she finds Karen passed out on the couch. Chimney next after getting a text from Maddie asking if he doesn’t want to come over and watch another movie she’s never seen.

And then it’s just him and Buck. 

Buck, who’s looking between him and the bathroom very blatantly. 

“You want to?” he asks. His voice is barely a whisper, despite the fact that there’s no one around, but maybe he feels the same way about this. Like he can’t talk about it out loud or it’ll be too real, what they’re doing.

It soothes something in him. Eddie might be a little embarrassed—a little ashamed, really—about the fact that he’s doing gay shit, and it’s nice to know Buck feels the same way, sort of. Nice to know Buck’s also not about to shout from the rooftops how badly he wants to get his hands on Eddie’s cock.

Eddie wants it badly, too, but he’s not about to admit it out loud. 

They down their beers, a flimsy excuse for their behavior, and try to make their way to the single stall bathroom as inconspicuous as possible. 

“Should we talk about this?” Buck asks after Eddie locks the door, palming himself through his pants. 

He snorts.

“Definitely not.”

Buck’s answering grin is the kind of smile people fall for, easy and hungry as he starts undoing his belt. It’s weirder like this. Standing. There’s the very real risk that if Eddie starts jerking Buck off he could end up getting come on Eddie, which is one too many layers of gay , in Eddie’s opinion.

It’s fine. He’s past tipsy. Inhibitions are loose, and all that.

Buck reaches out first, taking Eddie’s cock in his hand when he finally frees it from the confines of his jeans. It’s hot and fast and dirty, the slide just a little too much from how rough it is. Buck takes his hand off and spits in it. It should make Eddie feel gross, but it’s just spit in his hand. Not like Buck’s getting on his knees and actually putting his dick in his mouth. 

Handjobs he gets, but blowjobs feels a bit far. 

Not that Buck wouldn’t look good on his knees. He would. He’s got big blue eyes that probably get even bluer when they’re a little teary eyed from gagging around a dick. Not that Eddie’s ever thought about it, but objectively speaking, the visual’s not half bad. 

The slide is better, then. Spit slick and fast. Buck’s hard, too. Pants around his ankles, cock standing and dripping with precome. Every groan Eddie lets out makes Buck wetter.

It’s kind of hot, if he’s being honest. If only because it makes him feel good to know he has this effect on people. 

“You think Hen and Chim would lose their minds if they knew this is what we’re doing without them?”

Eddie’s breathless laugh turns into a moan when Buck twists his hand just right. 

“I think Hen and Chim aren’t gonna find out,” Eddie says. 

Buck shrugs, jerking Eddie off faster. 

He groans, head thumping against the bathroom wall. He’s pretty sure a lot of people have had sex in this bathroom, but that doesn’t make Eddie feel any less depraved for not even being able to keep it in his pants long enough for either of their homes.

“Like that, fuck, yes,” he says, hitching his hips up to meet Buck’s strokes. 

“Can’t wait to get your hands on me after, so good,” Buck mumbles. He’s watching Eddie’s dick moving in his hold with a kind of rapt fascination that would make Eddie laugh if he wasn’t about to come. 

He watches with him, the way Buck’s hands engulf his cock, so entirely different from any woman he’s been with. It should make him uncomfortable, probably, but he’s just tipsy enough to not care.

That, and he needs to come.

Buck notices, tightening his grip and twisting his hand, swiping his thumb through the precome leaking from the tip. 

“Yeah, come on. Come for me, Eddie, come on.”

He spills over Buck’s fingers and onto the floor with a groan, slumping against the wall. 

“Good?” Buck asks, using the hand already wet with spit and come to jerk himself off.

Eddie nods. Part of him wants to reach out, the other part thinks this is only fair after Buck left him hanging the first time. Besides, it’s sort of hot to be able to just watch. Buck comes quicker than Eddie would expect him to. Whole reputation of being a good lay, of being a flirt, the firehose nickname that Eddie knows follows him around, yet it doesn’t take long at all for him to come, coating the wall with thick ribbons of come that they’ll have to wipe down. 

The sex sobers them up pretty quickly, both of them putting their cocks away wordlessly. It’s one thing to get off—sex is human, it’s primal, it’s nothing, really, in the grand scheme of things—but two guys chilling with their dicks out is just…not even gay, just weird. 

“Christopher’s not home, right?” Buck asks after a moment, the two of them staring at the wall. Eddie, at the come dripping down it, Buck just staring into space. 

“No, why?”

Buck grabs some paper towels, wetting them a little before wiping down the wall. He scrunches his nose in disgust. Eddie would laugh, if he didn’t have come on the floor he had to wipe down.

“The movie theater in Glendale does midnight sessions sometimes. I heard they’re playing Scream tonight, wanna go?”

Eddie snorts, looking up at Buck from where he’s trying not to lean on the nasty floor as he cleans it. 

“What? So you can hide your fear against my shoulder the whole time.”

Buck rolls his eyes fondly. 

“Whatever. You want to go or not?”

Eddie pretends to consider it. As if he’s going to say no. Buck, the one person Eddie always wants to spend time with aside from his son. Buck, the person he trusts more than anyone else, who had his back even when he couldn’t stand him. 

Obviously he wants to affectionately make fun of Buck’s inability to sit through horror movies. Obviously he wants their night to keep going. 

One, Eddie has literally nothing better to do. His plan was to go home, probably end up watching an hour long YouTube video explaining a conspiracy he’s never heard of, and sleep.

Two, if Eddie did have something to do, he would cancel to go watch classic 90s movies with his best friend. 

“Yeah, sure. I guess we can go,” he says, put-upon sigh that has Buck shoving him. 

“Dick.”

Eddie smiles at him, and doesn’t even notice the way people stare when they walk out of the stall together, too wrapped up in Buck. In the bounce in his step as he rambles on about everything he learned on a Wikipedia binge. In the loud laughter when Eddie trips, too busy staring at the side of Buck’s face to notice the plastic cup on the floor. 

Maybe it’s the fact that orgasms make him stupid, but Eddie finds himself unable to look away when Buck catches his gaze, lips curling up into a smile so wide and cheesy it makes his eyes all squinty. 

And it’s definitely the orgasm that makes him lead Buck to the very back row of the movie theater.

Sadly, they don’t actually do anything. The place was packed and Eddie was genuinely too interested in the movie to lean over and start palming Buck through his jeans. 

There’s an edge, though. Something that makes him sit a little straighter in his seat, anticipating a smirk or a blue eyed wink or a hand trying to be inconspicuous as it undoes his buttons. 

It makes it all a little more fun, if he’s being honest. 10/10, would do again, perhaps with a little more dick touching next time. 

Buck takes him back to the bar to get his truck. 

“Thanks,” Eddie says as he gets out, speaking to Buck through the open window. “For the movie. It was fun.”

Buck nods, visibly pleased. It’s not sweet, because Eddie doesn’t feel that way about Buck, but it’s almost endearing how badly Buck needs to be liked. How badly he craves it, how it’s in everything he does. Always wants to be good for someone. 

He’ll make a very good boyfriend to someone someday. 

“Thanks,” Buck echoes. “For the company. It was fun. It’s always fun when it’s us.”

Buck wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, laughing when Eddie pretends to not be amused. 

“Dork.”

“I’ll see you at work?” Buck says after a beat. Eddie hasn’t left the jeep. He hates the fact that this night has to end, but it’s nearly three in the morning and Eddie needs to catch up on as much sleep as he can. 

“Of course. Someone needs to have your back, right?” 

“No one I trust more than you,” Buck answers easily. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie’s smile is a small, private thing. Nothing more than contentment as it curls upwards into something rather fond. 

“Goodnight.”

Eddie spends the whole drive home thinking of horror films and Buck’s face tucked against his shoulder and the way the beer made him feel warm and the way Buck’s hand on him made him feel even warmer. 

Really, Eddie spends the whole drive home thinking of Buck.

Eddie’s phone pings at eight thirty in the morning. He’s awake—his son is seven and it’s his first Saturday off in ages, of course he’s awake—but, usually, no one else is. Hen and Karen have Denny, who isn’t much older than Chris, yet he knows how to sleep past seven in the morning. 

The screen shows one new text notification that gets quickly followed by two more incoming texts. All from Buck. Eddie grins, unlocking his phone so he can text him back. 

Buck

Morning :)

You busy today? 

Eddie frowns at his phone. He doesn’t have any actual plans, but he’s home on a weekend and it’s not like Buck can exactly come over while Chris is around. 

Or, he could. Eddie could be overthinking this for nothing. Chris loves Buck. Buck thinks Chris is the most brilliant kid he’s ever met. Told Eddie as much after they’d put Chris to bed a few weeks ago. 

“You have the best kid. You’re a really good dad, Eddie.” He was half asleep, body sinking into the couch. He and Chris spent the whole afternoon building an elaborate lego structure. It was supposed to be a reference to some sort of sci-fi book Buck had let Chris borrow the week before. 

It looked kind of like a multi-colored vaguely pyramid shaped blob to Eddie, but he didn’t point that out. 

“Nah,” he tried, but Buck cut him off with a shake of his head before he could say anything more. 

“Trust me, Eddie. You’re a good dad.”

Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the words or the way Buck said it—the steadiness of his voice, the conviction in his tone, the gentleness of it, too. How soft and easy and honest it sounded. Because for a second there, Eddie believed it. 

He’s trying to figure out a way to tell Buck that, no, he’s not busy, but he’s also not available for that without sounding like he’s too…eager, or something. It’s not like Buck’s actually hinted at wanting to hang out for other reasons. 

He’s probably overthinking it. Eddie trusts Buck to be a little more forward than that. Sure, Eddie invited him over the other night hoping Buck would get the hint, but Eddie’s a single father who hasn’t hooked up with anyone since before Shannon left. He doesn’t know how to be direct about this kind of thing. 

Buck, though. Eddie knows about Buck 1.0, knows about the hook-ups and stealing the ladder truck, knows about getting fired for fucking someone on the job. Figures someone like that would at least add a winky face emoji.

He’s definitely overthinking it. 

Not even five seconds later his phone pings with another text.

It’s a link to the California Space Center’s website. 

Buck

check this out, man

they’re doing an exhibit on life outside our solar system

think chris would like it? i was thinking we should go today :)

Eddie exhales. See? He was right. 

“Chris,” Eddie calls out. Chris lifts his head up from where he’s focusing intently on the lego set in front of him, a hand-me-down model of London that, surprisingly enough, still has all the pieces. “How do you feel about going to the science museum today? Buck says they’re having an exhibit on aliens.” 

Chris nods excitedly, cheering when Eddie chuckles and goes back to his phone so he can text Buck back. 

Eddie

He’d love that. Come over whenever and we can leave together?

Buck

sure! i can drive

Eddie

Good.

“Go get dressed, Buck’s gonna be here soon.” 

Chris nods seriously, pushing himself up off the floor using the coffee table beside him. Eddie watches him with a small smile, something private and personal that Chris doesn’t even notice as he walks down the hallway. Every time Chris does something for himself, he has the urge to send a picture of it to his parents. Like a “see? I’m not fucking this up”. He’s sure they’d still find ways to say he’s screwing his son over, though, anyway. 

Parents. 

Eddie follows after him after a second, pausing at Chris’s door to help him decide between a shirt with multiple dinosaur skeletons or one with sharks. 

Ultimately, Chris chose neither of those, making a mess of his clothes as he searched for a space themed shirt that was, conveniently, at the very bottom of his wardrobe. Because of course it was. 

“It has to be this one, Daddy,” Chris said in all seriousness, his voice leaving no room for arguments. Eddie nodded back seriously, not letting his face break out in a smile until he was in his own room. 

He debates putting on one of his nicer shirts—a short sleeved black one that he knows gets people's attention—but he stops himself when he realizes they’re just going to a museum. Something they’ve done countless times. 

Chris’s outfit anxiety is rubbing off on him. 

Eddie pulls on a dark blue t-shirt. It’s clean, and it was already sitting on top of his dresser. Besides, his mom always fussed and said he looked nice in dark blue. That it brought out the warmth in his eyes, so he doesn’t feel half bad about himself when he checks his reflection in the mirror. 

He stares at himself for a while. He needs to shave soon, his stubble starting to get a little too long. Not quite a beard, but getting there. 

That’s a problem for another day, though. 

He switches his sleep shorts out for a pair of jeans, slipping on his shoes right as the doorbell rings. 

“I’ll get it!” Chris calls out, the sounds of his crutches against the floor echoing in the hallway. 

Eddie’s still in his room—can’t seem to find his watch anywhere— when he hears the tell tale squeak of the hinges, the tell tale sound of the door being swung open. Buck probably picks Christopher up, judging by his son’s raucous laughter. 

“Where’s your dad?” Buck asks, his voice muffled through the walls. “Eddie?” he calls out. 

“Sorry, couldn’t find this.” He raises his wrist as he fastens his watch around it. Buck nods, picking Chris up and positioning him on his hip. 

Not for the first time and definitely not for the last, Eddie is overwhelmed with how lucky they are to have found Buck. Buck, who found Carla, who took Eddie to see Chris after the earthquake, who comes over at least once a week to see Chris, practically ignoring Eddie completely. 

And Chris trusts him. Eddie hates that his son has been hurt by enough people to have trust issues at age eight, but he wraps his arms around Buck’s neck and stares at Eddie’s best friend like he hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. 

(Privately, Eddie can admit he probably looks at Buck like that sometimes, too. It’s not that Eddie never had friends, but a friend like Buck? He’s pretty sure those only come by once in a lifetime.)

Buck grabs Christopher’s crutches without letting go of him with practiced ease, passing them to Eddie so he can fish out his car keys. 

“Let’s go?”

“Yes!”

Eddie and Buck both smile at Chris’s enthusiasm, letting his excited rambling fill the drive. 

+

Eddie’s been to the California Science Center once, when he was fifteen and they went to LA to visit his abuela. Sophia was going through a science phase (well, not really a phase considering she majored in biology in college), and she said, in no uncertain terms, that if they didn’t spend a day at the California Science Center she would never speak to him or Adriana ever again. 

He forgot how fun it was. 

At fifteen, he was going through a bit of an everything sucks phase, and he ruined the day for himself, but, secretly, he loved it. He wasn’t smart, not how Soph is, and science kind of ran circles around his brain, but he liked to learn. Still does. Not how Buck and Christopher do, the way they go after information with an insatiable need to know everything, but he loves listening to what they’ve found. Loves sitting in the loft at the station listening to Buck ramble on about how people used to pay good money to drink the fresh blood of people who had been executed. 

Admittedly, not his favorite fun fact that Buck’s ever shared, but definitely one he won’t be forgetting anytime soon. 

Christopher’s immediately enchanted, looking around and practically vibrating on Buck’s back. An eager teenager greets them at the ticket counter. Entry is free, but Buck wanted to confirm their reservation for the alien exhibit. 

“Do you like aliens?” she asks Chris, rummaging through a drawer for something. 

Chris nods excitedly. “Yeah! I like sci-fi, right?”

“You and Buck like it,” Eddie smiles at Chris, turning to the young girl who’s holding stickers in her hands. “I could do without the evil aliens attacking humanity thing, but they seem to be into it.”

Something sparkles in the green of the girl's eyes, her smile bright as she hands them over their tickets. 

“The line for the interactive, black-light exhibit is usually kind of long, but I promise it’s with the wait. But, also, once you’re in there, there’s no time limit on how long you can stay.” 

“Awesome,” Buck says, his smile genuine, growing dazed in the corner in a way that’s heavier than Eddie can quite understand. He knows Buck’s got wounds he hasn’t told Eddie about, but Eddie can guess it’s got something to do with his childhood. Eddie’s heard about the concept of healing your inner child. Figures that’s why Buck puts Chris first the way he does.

Eddie smiles to himself. Buck’s gonna make a really great dad someday. 

The girl hands Christopher over a sticker that says I’m out of this world! with an alien wearing sunglasses. Naturally, Chris gives her the biggest grin in the world and immediately tapes the sticker to his forehead. 

“Nice,” the girl says. “You guys enjoy your visit. You’re a really sweet family, by the way.”

Eddie’s heart does something seriously weird in his chest. He pauses. It’s not—it doesn’t make him uncomfortable, because he’s not a homophobe or anything, but he doesn’t know how else to explain the way his chest tightens. 

“Thanks,” Buck answers breezily, waving to her as they walk away. Buck sets Chris down and lets him wander off ahead of them, Eddie watching fondly as he stops to read the description on the dinosaur skeleton, his mouth forming the words as he tries to sound them out. 

“You don’t think it’s weird that she thought we were a family?” Eddie wonders out loud after the silence has stretched between him and Buck. It’s not that it was uncomfortable, because Eddie doesn’t think there’s such thing as uncomfortable silence between them, but the thought’s been on his mind for the past five minutes. 

Buck shrugs. 

“I mean, we’re two guys and a kid. Besides, she had a rainbow pin on her lanyard. She was probably in the LGBT community and was happy to see other gay people, especially a gay couple. Not that we’re gay, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“It’s probably not a big deal.”

Eddie hums, letting his shoulders bump against Buck’s as he walks.

“You know,” Buck starts, his tone light and teasing as he turns a little to face Eddie. He gestures at how close they are, his smirk growing quickly, making his blue eyes seem stupidly bright in the natural light filtering in from the windows. “Us walking this close, talking in hushed tones…probably isn’t helping our case.”

Eddie laughs, tipping his head back. It’s not particularly funny, exactly, but it makes him smile the way things with Buck always do. There are calls that feel like being dragged across asphalt, there are days where Chris is crying for Shannon but Eddie’s phone seems to only ever reach her voicemail, there are days where he relives every moment of his service. 

And every time, he just needs to turn around to find Buck ready with a bad joke or a listening ear or a fun fact. Buck with takeout containers standing at his door, a new book to read with Chris, a new movie he hasn’t seen that Chimney won’t shut up about. 

He would feel weird about how quickly Buck became one of the most important people in his life, if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure Buck felt the exact same way. 

“If I wasn’t comfortable in my sexuality I don’t think Thursday would’ve happened. Or the weekend before that.”

Buck turns rosy, pink dusting along his cheekbones up to the tips of his ears. “Should we talk about it?”

Eddie snorts. “Not in a museum full of children. Besides, why ruin it?”

“Communication doesn’t ruin things , Eddie.” 

“I mean, it’s working so far, right?”

“It’s only happened three times.”

“So far,” Eddie repeats, gesturing with his hands. “Are you gay?” 

A teenage girl probably only a few years younger than the girl at the register whips around to look at him, turning back to her friends and making them giggle. Eddie doesn’t pay them any mind — they’re fifteen. Let them have their funny story. 

“No?”

“Neither am I. We’ll talk about it if that changes.” 

“If? You think there’s a chance you’ll be able to resist me?” Buck jokes, gesturing up and down at himself. Eddie follows his hands, letting his eyes trail along his body. Buck’s wearing a tight blue shirt with a loose gray button down thrown over it. There’s a jacket draped over one arm, and it’s too hot for it, in Eddie’s opinion, but Buck runs cold. 

“Me resist you? Definitely. You, on the other hand…”

Buck laughs, open and far too loud for the rounded, echoey ceilings of the museum. His voice bounces off the walls, getting looks sent their way. Eddie doesn’t get it — who wouldn’t want to be wrapped up in Evan Buckley’s joy? It’s infectious. Eddie doesn't even realize how wide his smile’s grown until he feels it in his cheeks.

“Dad! Buck! Can we go see the aliens now?” 

Buck nods, abandoning Eddie altogether to walk alongside Chris who is doing his best to cross the room as quickly as humanly possible. He trips a little along the way, and Eddie gets ready to swoop in if he falls, but Buck gets a steadying hand around him before he gets the chance to react. 

Having a support system is still so fresh and new and shiny. Eddie has to remind himself he can let go for once, and just be there to document the moment. 

Which he is. Admittedly maybe excessively. 

His phone storage is begging him to take his thumb off the camera button. Does he really need fifty-four shots of Christopher’s teeth glowing in the black light in front of a twinkling display of a galaxy? Arguably not. 

“You gotta send me all of those pics, man. Just airdrop all of it when we get back to yours,” Buck says as they walk out of the dimly lit room an hour and a half later. 

So, then again, arguably yes. 

“Can we get ice cream?” Chris asks as they step outside, making their way to Buck’s jeep. 

Buck shrugs. “I’ve got no plans today.”

“Me neither. Ice cream or frozen yogurt?”

Chris and Buck look at him like he’s lost his mind. 

“Ice cream,” they say in unison. 

“Fine,” Eddie sighs, pretending to be put-out about it. “One day y’all will realize frozen yogurt is better, though.”

Buck scoffs, “as if,” and pulls out of the parking lot. 

+

Eddie really, really should’ve insisted they get frozen yogurt. If he has to watch Buck slowly chase the sticky, cloying sweetness that drips down his arm from his cone with his tongue one more time, he’s gonna get them kicked out of the fancy vegan ice cream place Buck found. 

It’s surprisingly good. Eddie can’t even pretend to dislike it.

He can, however, dislike Buck being a complete and absolute tease. 

Eddie isn’t sure if he’s doing it on purpose or not. Well, that’s not true. At first he wasn’t sure. Now, though? With Buck maintaining steady eye contact as he licks up the cone? With Buck letting his eyes flutter shut when the taste of caramel hits his tongue, only to have them be shimmering with mirth when they open again? 

It’s on purpose. And it’s evil. 

Eddie is a good friend. His ice cream is in a bowl, and he’s eating it with one of the tiny wooden sample spoons. The sex appeal couldn’t be lower if he tried. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Chris says, showing Eddie the chocolate ice cream all over his fingers. “Do I have an ice cream mustache?”

“Goatee, too,” Buck answers.

“Awesome.”

“Go wash your face, mijo. We should probably get going, too. Buck and I have an early shift tomorrow.” 

Buck and Chris groan.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You need help finding the bathroom?” he asks Chris, who shakes his head no and gestures to the big sign hanging on the wall on the other side of the shop. It says bathroom in very big, very bold print. “Never mind, then.” 

He and Buck watch Chris walk away. Eddie doesn’t even bother to hide his pride when he politely asks a woman to pick up her purse off the floor so he could squeeze behind her, his lips stretching into a smile that’s probably embarrassingly wide. 

“I’ve said it before, but Chris is honestly the coolest kid I know.”

“How many kids do you know, Buckley?”

“Enough to know Chris is my favorite,” Buck shoots back easily. There’s no logical explanation for the way warmth creeps up the back of his neck at the words, but there’s no logical explanation for the way heat was stirring in his gut earlier as he looked at Buck. Maybe some things don’t need to make sense. Maybe they can just be good. 

Maybe Eddie can just have this. And maybe it won’t even end up in flames. 

“He’s lucky to have you,” Eddie says without meaning to. Buck looks at him with wonder in his eyes, all the mirth from earlier gone with the rest of his ice cream. “I mean, you and the team and our support system here. It’s nice to not…nevermind.”

“Not be so alone?” Buck offers softly, letting the words cross the space between them slowly. Gently. 

Eddie nods. 

“Yeah.” 

It’s quiet until Chris comes back from the bathroom. Not in a bad way, quiet in the way calm is quiet, quiet in the way a shallow creek in the middle of a rainy forest is quiet. Buck’s thinking about something and doesn’t know how to say it. Eddie can see it in the tight corners of his mouth, but he’s sure he looks the same, so he doesn’t press. 

“You guys are being weird,” Chris says when he joins them again. 

Eddie lets a grin take over his face. Can’t help the way happiness feels like it’s pouring out of him, just hopes no one slips on it as they walk out of the door.

+

Eddie gets his revenge on what he’s referring to as the ice cream incident three days later. He hasn’t been able to get Buck’s mouth of his head since the day at the museum, and he’s been helpless against the thoughts that creep up during his dreams and end with a too-long shower before work. 

He briefly wonders if there’s a non-gay way to ask a guy to suck your dick. Odds are the fantasies will die down soon enough, there’s no way Buck would agree to that. God knows Eddie wouldn’t. Hands are something he can do to himself. Unless he manages to figure out how to suck his own dick anytime soon, that’s not happening. 

And Eddie has the flexibility of a seventy-five cent plastic ruler. If he tries to bend in any direction, he’s pretty sure he’ll snap in half. 

Maybe if he was still twenty and lankier — back when exercise meant sprinting a home run and not carrying bodies out of burning buildings — but definitely not eleven years and multiple life threatening injuries later. 

It’s too bad, though. He’s kind of curious. Not enough to give Buck a blowjob, but enough that he thinks about it more than he probably should. It’s not like anyone on the team can read minds. 

He catches Hen’s piercing gaze sometimes, though, and wonders if maybe he’s wrong about that. 

There’s a jumper. Standing on the edge of his balcony, on the seventh story of a nine story building. It’s almost identical to a call Eddie remembers Buck telling him about. Wife (in this case, boyfriend) cheats, partner loses their mind, threatens suicide, they get called to help. 

As sad as it is, Eddie doesn’t know of a single firefighter who has ever had this exact scenario end in actual death. And everyone he knows has been to this kind of call at least once. 

He remembers Buck telling him about it. It was during his first few months on the job, after his first loss. Eddie remembers rather vividly the way the blue light from the TV was glowing along his frown, remembers the hurt Buck tried to mask with a grin and a laugh and a throwaway hand gesture. 

He wanted to reach over and smooth out the wrinkles forming between his brows, wanted to reassure him, somehow. Not sure what he would’ve said, but Eddie remembers, in that moment, feeling a weight on his tongue that he didn’t know how to spit out. 

They get to the apartment, and Buck’s looking at Bobby like he’s expecting him to be the one to rappel down the side of the building and kick the guy back into his apartment. 

“Eddie, harness up. Buck, you’re sending him down.”

Buck splutters for a second, but regains his composure quickly enough that Eddie almost doesn’t think anything of it. 

Except that when he turns around, there’s that same pink flush along his cheekbones that Eddie’s quickly growing familiar with, and oh. 

Oh, that’s why Buck’s tripping over his words. 

Eddie smirks. Doesn’t wink at him because they have a job to do and they’re kind of in front of their coworkers, their friends , but he does let himself stare at the muscles of Buck’s arms as they climb up the ladder. He’s only human. You try tearing your eyes away from the flexing of smooth muscle, stretching out the sleeve of a shirt. 

If there wasn’t someone literally threatening to end their life, Eddie probably would’ve taken his time soaking in the hungry look Buck sends his way. Under other circumstances, Eddie would make sure the harness was just a little too tight around his thighs, make sure it frames the bulge in his pants, make sure no one was around so he could get Buck’s hands on it. 

Maybe, in these fantasies, Buck doesn’t just use his hands. 

“You feel good?” Buck asks as he gets ready to send Eddie down. 

Eddie’s eyebrow twitches along with the grin he tries to suppress. 

“Not–not like that, Eddie. I just–does the harness, like, feel right?” Buck stutters, scratching his eyebrow in a nervous tick. He tries to compose himself, but when his eyes meet Eddie’s again, his cheeks are still too pink to make his grin look anything other than flustered. Eddie pretends not to notice. Figures he can let Buck keep his firehose flirt reputation intact. 

“I feel fine. Send me down?” Eddie may or may not say this while looking at Buck from below his lashes, tugging on the harness enough that it digs into his hips a little. It has the desired effect of making Buck bite the inside of his cheek, nose scrunching. 

“You’re an ass.”

Eddie tilts his head. “Maybe.”

“Don’t die,” Buck mutters, shoving Eddie lightly towards the edge. 

The rescue is pretty simple. Nothing Eddie hasn’t done before. He’s a little on edge, though. Doesn’t really process it, barely knows why until they’re back at the station. Until he’s stripping in the locker room, peeling the sweaty shirt off his back, and he catches Buck’s eye from across the room. 

His eyes are twinkling with want and mischief and Eddie’s suddenly taking his sweet time pulling his shirt off. 

Hen pauses to say goodbye, stopping in the doorway and looking between them. She snorts, shakes her head, and mutters something Eddie doesn’t quite catch. 

Eddie watches her walk away, because he knows the energy will be charged the second he snaps his eyes back to Buck’s, and he wants to push that off. Both because they’re in the station and he needs to make sure it’s empty, and because he may like the way Buck has been growing restless since the rescue. 

The station feels eerily still. Eddie knows there are still people milling about, B-shift coming in to take over for them, but the locker room is empty, and when he follows Buck into the showers, there’s no one else but them.

They walk into one of the showers, pulling the curtain shut. The tension is thick enough to slice through. 

Buck takes his sweet time pulling his shirt off, the look in his eyes hungry and laden with want as he pulls Eddie in by the belt loops.

“Easy,” Eddie jokingly warns. 

“I tried getting off yesterday, you know?” Buck says, pressing the heel of his hand into the growing bulge in Eddie’s pants. “I kept wishing it was your hand. You know the last time I wanted someone else’s touch like that?”

Eddie swallows. He can hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest, holds his breath to see if it’ll make it calm down but it only seems to make the blood rushing in his ears louder. 

“You should do something about it, then.” Eddie hopes Buck doesn’t pick up the waver in his tone. It wasn’t even from nerves, not really. It wasn’t so much anxiety as it was anticipation. Eddie just doesn’t feel like stroking Buck’s ego by letting him know just how much he’s been waiting for this. 

He’d rather stroke something else. 

“Like what?” Buck asks.

Eddie nearly trips in his haste to take his pants off, and Buck starts to laugh before nearly tripping himself. Eddie snorts. Buck flips him off. They stand up at the same time, and, wow. They haven’t gotten a chance to do this sober, yet. Always a little drunk, and maybe that was safer — it’s not gay when there’s a little too much alcohol involved, or something. 

But they’re stone cold sober. Eddie’s gonna regret it later when he’s sitting in his truck, but he’s stupidly horny and Buck’s more attractive than Eddie remembers him being. Maybe it’s the lighting. Something is doing wonders for his abs. 

“Like what you see?” Buck teases, flexing and posing in a way that makes his v-line stand out. Eddie’s sure girls probably go crazy for that. 

“I’m not gay, man.”

“Your dick is interested.”

“My dick can’t tell the difference.”

Buck nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. Eddie doesn’t know why that unsettles him so much. 

Eddie, because he’s kind of tired of them standing there with their dicks out and doing nothing about it, closes the gap between them and wraps a hand around Buck’s cock. 

It twitches in his hand, precome dripping out the head of it. Buck’s big. Feels almost bigger like this, in the bright lights of their station, the weight of it heavy and solid wrapped up in his fingers. Eddie goes slow, because he’s got a feeling that Buck probably takes his time when he does it to himself. Probably teases himself, grip nowhere near tight enough for any real relief.

Eddie’s suspicions are proven correct when Buck inhales sharply, his head tipping back against the shower wall. 

He pulls away for a second, smirking at Buck’s whine of protest, and turns the water on. 

“You want to waste water? You know we’re in a drought, right?”

“California’s always in a drought,” Eddie tosses back. “Besides, you’re sweaty, and I stink.”

Buck smiles, and whatever tension there was between them seems to disappear down the drain. 

“Also, I don’t need B-shift to listen to me jerking you off.”

Buck opens his mouth like he’s gonna say something, a quick-witted retort to Eddie’s teasing, but Eddie suddenly tugging hard and fast on his cock seems to make his brain short-circuit. 

Being suddenly so sharply aware of everything should probably make him freak out more. He knows he’d be losing his shit if this was just a year ago, but it’s like he said at the museum — he’s comfortable with himself. Enough to not get grossed out by the way Buck’s dick is smearing precum all over his fist. 

“Fuck, let me—” Buck gets out between breathy moans before wrapping his own hand around Eddie. 

They moan at the same time. It echoes, bouncing off the shower tiles, and it makes both of them pause, waiting to see if anyone heard. There’s distant chatter, but it’s too quiet and muffled to be coming from inside the locker room. 

Buck moves first. Eddie follows shortly after. It’s kind of an odd angle; Eddie’s reaching around Buck’s arm, and it’s like there’s some sort of weird no non-dick touching rule that they both agreed upon, because they make sure not to let their arms brush. 

It’s one thing to shut his eyes and let fingers and touches and tugs get him off. It’s another to have Buck’s hand attached to Buck’s arm attached to Buck. 

Though, he’s really not sure why. Because it’s not like he wants to do this with anyone else. And it’s not like he doesn’t get the opportunity. Hell, every call to a public place is an opportunity. Women flirt with him left and right, but it never felt right. 

He needs trust. And there’s no one in the world he trusts more than Buck. 

Buck, who is hitching his hips up into Eddie’s fist and coming with a loud groan that’s only muffled by Eddie’s hand smacking over his mouth to shut him up. 

And, because he’s incredibly mature, Buck licks between his fingers. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t use that hand to get you off,” Eddie mutters.

Buck shrugs. “I wouldn’t have minded. I don’t taste half bad, you know.”

That makes heat simmer in his gut. A pot of water starting to boil, and someone just turned the heat up. Jesus Christ. It doesn’t help that Eddie maybe, kind of, sort of wants Buck’s mouth on him, and both things combined have him biting his lip to keep quiet as he comes. 

Buck smirks at him and Eddie knows he’s been caught. Buck lifts his hand and sucks his come coated thumb clean, eyes fluttering shut like he isn’t tasting Eddie’s literal spunk. 

His dick really does try to get hard again. 

“You could stand to eat more fruit,” he says casually.

“What the fuck.”

Eddie’s heart has never beat so loud in his life. He’s heard gunshots that echoed softer.

“Something wrong?” Buck asks innocently, stepping fully under the spray and soaping himself up. 

Eddie stands there, staring at him unblinkingly.

He’s got two options:

1. Tell Buck he’s losing his mind because there’s no way that was actually hot.

1. Ignore it, because there’s no need to voice concern over something that shouldn’t occupy space in his mind at all.

It’s easy to pick the second option. 

Eddie made sure they showered in different stalls, because sometime between the blood rushing back to his brain and Buck off-key humming an old Fall Out Boy song, Eddie sobered up. Showering together felt…intimate. Soft. And Eddie wasn’t about to start washing Buck’s hair or anything gay like that. 

They get dressed and walk out of the station in stilted silence, neither of them knowing what to even say. 

“See you,” Buck mutters.

Eddie drives home on autopilot. Doesn’t think of anything at all the entire drive. 

+

Okay, so, maybe ignoring it isn’t working.

Eddie hates the amount of thought he’s been giving this situation. It doesn’t need to be using up this much of his emotional energy—or whatever he’s heard Sophia say—and yet it’s just past ten pm, Chris has been asleep for a while, Eddie’s already cleaned up the house and done the dishes, and he’s staring blankly up at the ceiling, laying in bed, thinking of Buck’s body and hands and the mouth he wants everywhere.

But, mostly, he’s thinking about how he definitely, definitely fucked it up. The thing is, Buck was probably just joking. Probably just trying to rile Eddie up.

And it–it fucking worked. 

Eddie’s mind has been an endless loop of Buck sucking his thumb clean like his mind is a web page that froze, the only thing loading a gif of Buck’s eyes fluttering shut replaying over and over and over again.

And, like, isn’t that kinda…fruity? He’s pretty sure Hen would object to him describing it that way, but, like, isn’t it? 

Except Buck said he knew he didn’t taste half bad. Eddie’s never cared to taste himself, but maybe if he does it’ll cancel it out, or something. In the same way that a handjob isn’t the gayest exchange in the world because he can do the same thing to himself, maybe if he licks his hand clean it’ll cancel out.

The reasoning sounds a little backwards even to him. He’s aware of this. He’s also desperate to maintain the best relationship he’s ever had.

And he’s pretty sure he’s fucked it up. A little. For one, he ran out of the firehouse like it was on fire, ironic as that sounds, and, two, he ran out of the firehouse like it was on fire because he was horny. 

Sure, this whole thing happening is going on because they’re horny, but it was in a mutual way. In a “it’s not weird if we don’t say anything” sort of way. In a “ if I close my eyes I can pretend it’s not you” sort of way. 

Eddie sighs. He’s frustrated. He’s got his hand lightly cupping his cock through his boxers, but nothing’s happening. It’s partially his fault—odds are he’d get hard quicker if he allowed himself to think of Buck but that feels dangerous. That feels too much like he’s attracted to Buck, when really it’s just his body reacting to a sexual situation.

Eddie and his friends in high school would sometimes watch porn together, and that wasn’t weird. They kept their hands to their own dicks but it wasn’t anything crazy and it wasn’t awkward and nobody made it so.

Eddie doesn’t know why he’s making it weird now.

Is it because he and Buck don’t keep their hands to themselves? Because that wouldn’t make sense. Matt and Rafe would hook up after baseball practice in between girlfriends—Eddie knows because he caught Matt on his knees in the locker room once when he went back for his hoodie—and nothing ever came of that. 

Eddie’s overthinking this.

His phone buzzes.

It’s a text from Buck.

Buck:

hey, i’m pretty sure chris is a asleep by now

if he’s not, make sure he doesn’t look over your shoulder ;)

Eddie doesn’t have a chance to ask what that means before Buck’s sending him a mirror selfie. He’s fresh out of the shower, his reflection only visible in the mirror because he wiped some of the steam off the glass. His boxer briefs are white and a little transparent from the dampness of Buck’s thighs and the room, leaving very little to the imagination when Eddie’s eyes zero in on the outline of his cock. 

Eddie’s mouth goes dry. His dick is definitely interested.

Like he said, it’s a sexual image. Sex is sex, it’s not that he’s attracted to Buck, it’s just that his body has started to form a conditioned response to Buck’s body in sexual situations. Pavlov or something, Eddie’s pretty sure.

Before he can even adjust himself so he can take a photo and send it back, Buck’s sent him another text.

Buck:

Attachment: 1 Video

Eddie’s quick to click on it, adjusting the volume before pressing play in case Buck’s moaning a little too loud in it. 

Chris sleeps like the dead, and there are a couple walls between their bedrooms, but he’d rather not take the chance that his son wakes up to use the restroom and overhears anything that could potentially traumatize the kid for life.

Eddie walked in on his parents once. It took him three months before he stepped foot in their bedroom again. 

It’s a good thing, too, because Buck in the video groans low enough to send a shiver down Eddie’s spine as he slips his hands beneath the waistband and pushes the heel of his palm against his cock in a way that seems like it’d be almost overstimulating.

He’s starting to come to the conclusion that Buck likes it too light or too rough and there’s not much in between. Buck in the video hums as he repeats the motion, and Eddie finds that it doesn’t actually matter how Buck gets off, so long as it’s getting Eddie off, too.

Friendship.

Another text comes in. 

Buck:

leaving people on read is bad form, edmundo

Eddie:

Don’t call me that

And be patient

Buck:

yes, sir ;)

Eddie will deny the fucking–the mewl that slipped past his lips. It’s not a thing (it’s sort of a thing) but he’s always preferred to have some sort of control. He’s spent his whole life feeling like he had to exist on other people’s terms, the only time he felt like he had any say in the situation was when he was with Shannon and they were falling into bed together.

And then she left, too. Took that sense of stability out from his feet, a cruise magician ripping off the table cloth.

Though, to be fair, Eddie probably deserved that.

Eddie:

Fuck you

Buck:

not into that?

Eddie doesn’t dignify that with a response. He’s sure they’ll get there eventually, it’s not like Buck’s never done anything kinky before. There have been late night mentions of girls who would dominate him, take charge, ride him with his hands pinned back. Eddie listened with a degree of fascination that can only be chalked up to not having had many sexual partners in his life. 

They only talked about it twice. Once, when Buck was explaining how easy it is to pick up chicks at a bar, and the second time a few weeks ago, after the second time they did anything. 

He hasn’t thought about it, not really.

He’s thinking about it now.

Instead of replying, he turns on his bedside lamp so he doesn’t have to use flash. Eddie presses record, letting the camera focus on his hands as they dip under the waistband of his boxers.

He’s noticed the way Buck watches his fingers when they wrap around his cock.

People have things for hands. It’s somehow unsurprising that Buck is one of those people.

Eddie’s already hard, tenting the fabric, but he doesn’t wrap a hand around himself. He knows he’d get going and wouldn’t stop, so he holds back. His breathing is a little sharp, knows Buck will be able to pick up on the hitch of it, on the waver when he gives in just enough to tease himself a bit.

The video cuts off as he pushes his boxers down and sets his cock free. It’s wet at the tip, shiny and catching the light from the lamp beside him. He doesn’t think too much about it as he sends the video.

Buck:

that was hot

are u touching urself?

Eddie wants to roll his eyes at Buck’s grammar, but the thought of it being so poor and rushed because he’s got a hand fisted around himself and he’s trying to type all of this one handed, is, well—

It’s doing things for him. 

The curl of his fingers around his cock is perfect. Has his eyes falling shut, teeth digging into his bottom lip to keep quiet, and it isn’t long before he’s stroking himself in earnest. 

God, it feels good. Eddie’s not particularly sexual, not the way Buck is—not that there’s anything wrong with that, he just isn’t— and he’s not sure he’d be able to do this best friends with benefits situation they’ve got going with anyone else, but, Jesus Christ alive, it feels good.

Eddie:

Yes. Are you?

Buck:

Attachment: 1 IMG

what do u think

The picture is shitty, the lightning no longer bright and cold how it was in the bathroom. Buck’s got his duvet around his knees, his cock standing up, the pink flush almost red with the warm lightning from his own bedside lamp. His hand is a little blurry like the picture was taken while he was moving it up and down himself. 

Eddie almost saves it, just for future reference, before remembering he has an eight year old who likes to snoop through his phone.

He makes a mental note to delete these texts before he falls asleep. 

Eddie:

Fuck

He almost tells Buck he’s on the edge, but doesn’t. Can’t explain his hesitancy about it, it’s not like Buck hasn’t seen him come before, but it’s one of those things. Another line he’s scared to cross, because, clearly, what they have going is good. Buck doesn’t think to be thinking about it too hard, and Eddie’s probably only stuck on the thought because this goes against everything he was taught going to catholic school.

Sex on its own is a sin. That’s probably where it’s coming from.

He twists his hand, the drag the exact amount of pressure, and it’s got him coming all over his fist with a bitten moan. 

The room comes back into focus slowly. Eddie’s chest rises and falls quickly. He can feel his heartbeat in his stomach, the orgasm shaking through him with enough force to make him aware of his body in ways that are a little unsettling, if he’s being honest.

He’s had plenty of good orgasms, but, usually, the ones he’s given himself are more to take the edge off than to actually enjoy it. He’s never savored masturbation before, only ever gone through the motions because he was pent up and horny to the point of frustration. 

Eddie likes sex, but it’s not usually at the forefront of his mind. Honestly, he forgets that’s a need he even has until he’s having regular sex with someone.

And he is. Having regular sex with someone. With Buck.

Maybe what’s getting to him is just the fact that he’s only ever really been with Shannon. There was one other girl after Shannon left that he felt immediately guilty about, still technically married and hurting. He ate her out at the only party he ever went to outside of high school until her boyfriend barged in and started yelling at her for cheating on him again.

But now there’s Buck. His best friend. The kind of person who researches activities for them to do with Christopher, the kind of person who’s stupidly reckless and stupidly kind, the kind of person who Eddie knew for all of one week when he realized Buck was the kind of person he really hopes sticks around for the long haul. 

There are worse people he could be doing this with.

His phone buzzes. Eddie grins as he opens the message. 

Buck:

🤯🔥🍆💦

we should do that again sometime

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly.

Eddie:

You’re ridiculous.

Goodnight Buck

Buck:

goodnight eddie :)

Just about every single person he knows from dispatch is standing outside a club called Ipanema, some new, trendy, probably pricey Latin club that Josh discovered because Eddie knows he follows those Hot in LA Instagram pages. 

Knows, because Buck follows the same ones. 

Everyone smiles when they see him pull up, Buck quickly pulling him into a hug like they didn’t see each other at work less than twelve hours ago.

Eddie hugs him back easily, and is secretly glad for the way Buck plasters himself to his side as they all make their way in. He likes these people, is comfortable around them, even, but he’s not the biggest fan of crowds or loud noises or flashing lights. 

PTSD is a bitch.

Buck’s a little loose already, and Eddie wonders if he pregamed without him. Josh is half leaning against Buck, laughing a little too loudly when he makes a joke that isn’t funny, and Eddie feels something hot and uncomfortable stirring in his stomach. 

He feels instantly terrible. It’s Josh’s birthday, he’s allowed to laugh at Buck’s terrible puns without Eddie rolling his eyes at him. Even though Eddie knows the only person in the world who genuinely finds any humor in Buck’s terrible, terrible jokes is his son.

And Christopher is sound asleep in Pepa’s guest bedroom. 

Josh puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder, talking to Buck and some other guy Eddie doesn’t recognize. They’re all leaning against the bar—Buck’s taking slow sips of something bright blue and sweet smelling, Josh immediately did three rounds of shots upon entering, and the guy who is eyeing Buck like he’s a piece of meat is nursing a beer.

They’re at a fancy club. The drinks have names even Eddie has trouble pronouncing, and this guy is drinking a beer? 

“And for you, sir?” the bartender asks, looking boredly between Eddie and the drinks menu. 

“Uh, caipivodka, I guess?” 

The bartender stares at him blankly. 

“Flavor?”

Eddie stares at the options. 

“Isn’t cashew a nut?” he asks, making Josh’s friend snort like he was somehow being funny. 

“The nut comes from the fruit. It’s native to Brazil,” the guy explains, his smile on the wrong side of dazzling. It’s unnaturally white, and it makes him look a little insane with the way the blacklight of the club is making them glow. “I’m from Brazil. We have loads of cashew trees where I’m from.”

Buck perks up, immediately launching into easy conversation about his time in South America. Eddie tunes it out.

“I’ll just do the lemon one, thanks.”

The bartender nods, and his previous passive expression turns into a genuine smirk as he looks between Eddie and the Brazilian guy, who’s now showing Buck and Josh pictures of himself shirtless on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro.

It reminds Eddie, a bit, of his first day at the 118. Buck was doing much of the same thing, trying to appear better, more interesting, more competent. He’s not sure what this guy is trying to prove, other than that he has a really great collection of really small swimsuits. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, bringing his attention back to the conversation. “Rafael’s been to the world’s largest cashew tree and says it’s nearly nine thousand square meters. It produces almost…what’d you say?”

“Almost seventy thousand fruits a year,” Rafael says, and his tone is clipped in a way that makes the heat and discomfort in his gut settle. Eddie suddenly understands how Buck was feeling that first day in the station. This guy’s familiarity, the ease with which he was letting his hand linger on Buck’s sleeve was just…wrong. 

His drink comes. The way he downs half of it in one go has the bartender raising an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that so cool?” Buck asks, grinning at him. He’s slumped against the bar, his long legs stretched out in front of him, and it means he has to look up at Eddie when he speaks. 

There’s a hot, bright flush that’s spread across his cheeks. Not quite the blush he gets when comes, but something like it. Pink and a little splotchy as it covers his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Buck, despite his size, is the biggest lightweight Eddie’s ever met; you can tell he’s been drinking even after half a bottle. His body reacts to it quickly, getting loose and light and giddy. 

Eddie doesn’t know what’s in his drink, but considering it’s bright blue and he can smell it even though it’s sitting on Buck’s other side on the counter, he’s gonna say it’s got a high enough alcohol concentration to have Buck suggesting something stupid. 

“We should dance,” he shouts in Eddie’s ear, raising his voice over the music.

Something like that.

“You want to dance?”

“What?” Buck teases, raising his eyebrows. “You think I can’t dance?”

“Buck, I know you can’t dance.”

“I bet I’m still a better dancer than you, though.”

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek.

It’s–okay. He knows a trap when he sees one, and he can tell his foot is already dangling over the open metal of the awaiting jaws. He knows how easy it’d be to shift his weight forward and let the metal teeth sink into him. Maybe it’s the loud music drowning everything out, the way he can barely hear whatever Rafael says to make Buck laugh that brightly, maybe it’s the fact that Eddie hasn’t danced with anyone since the last time he and Shannon went line dancing. Maybe it’s the vodka.

Okay, it’s definitely the vodka.

But he finds himself nodding with an eye roll, and letting himself get dragged to the mass of bodies moving slightly off rhythm to the funk song playing too loudly over the speakers. 

Eddie stands awkwardly, laughing so hard he starts coughing when Buck tries and fails to imitate a hip-swaying move from a pretty, long haired girl beside them. 

“I’ve yet to see you do better,” Buck complains, dancing out of time to the song.

Eddie likes a challenge. The song shifts to something with a bit more movement, less just thumping bass and more something he can actually dance to. 

It’s easy to find a girl willing to dance with him.

A blonde haired, blue eyed girl with bright red lipstick has been eyeing him all night. He hasn’t paid much attention to her—Buck making a fool out of himself was much more interesting that her biting her lip as she stared at him over Buck’s shoulder—but he knows it won’t take much convincing to get her to dance. 

“Hey,” he says, as charmingly as possible. The girl flutters her eyelashes. Eddie tries his best to keep the smirk genuine. “You want to dance?”

She smiles, a little predatory, and if Eddie weren’t so focused on proving a point to his best friend, he’s pretty sure the edge to her grin would be enough to make attraction simmer quietly in his stomach.

As it is, he’s too busy keeping an eye on Buck’s reaction in his periphery to even really notice. 

“Think you can keep up?” the girl asks, walking backwards until they’re in the middle where everything feels turned up a little bit higher. The lights seem more colorful, the bodies hotter, the girl’s grin brighter, and the skin on the back of his neck where he knows Buck’s watching him feels uncomfortably warm. 

The girl’s movements are fluid, but Eddie matches her easily. He lets her grind against him—grinds back just because he knows he’s got an audience. It’s not–he’s not an exhibitionist, or at least he didn’t think he was, but there’s something about knowing Buck’s eyes are trained on him that makes him want to pull out his dance team moves from high school.

When he looks for him, though, just to brag about being a better dancer, Buck’s nowhere to be found. 

“I–I gotta go,” he tells the nameless girl whose hands are sliding a little too close to his ass to be comfortable. 

“Can I get your number?” she asks, puckering her lips in a way that would probably be attractive if he wasn’t too busy searching for Buck’s head over the crowd. 

“Later, yeah,” he says dismissively, and pushes his way through the crowd. 

He runs into Hen first. 

“Have you seen Buck?” he asks, words too loud and too slurred. Hen raises a judgemental eyebrow. 

“No. And when I said I wanted you and Buck to come with me so I didn’t get left alone with Chim and Maddie, I meant I wanted company and not have to third wheel the whole time.” 

Eddie freezes. “What.”

“I’m kidding, I should’ve known you two would go all BuckAndEddie,” she’s teasing, but there’s that same knowing glint in her eyes that’s been scaring the shit out of him lately. “I have a wife at home who offered to stay with our son so I could come out with you guys, might as well go home to her. Tell Josh I said happy birthday?”

Eddie nods uselessly.

Hen smiles. Snorts when she looks over her shoulder. 

“Found him.” She nods at something behind him. Eddie turns around to find Buck glaring at him, occupying the same space they had vacated at the bar. He leans in to give Hen a quick hug, which she reluctantly accepts despite how disgustingly sweaty he is.

To be fair, they’ve touched in considerably less favorable conditions.

He’s pretty sure Hen’s clapped his back with a bloody hand before.

It’s nearly impossible to push through all the bodies as he tries to cross the room. It feels like they’re all moving together, one big inhale and exhale as they move to the same beat. Eddie forces his way through as quickly as possible, small smile tugging at his lips even though Buck’s expression is sour. 

“Hey, man,” he says, flagging the bartender and asking for another of the same drink he had before. He feels dizzy enough as it is, the vodka from earlier strong enough to still have his veins buzzing, but he wants Buck in a way that makes his head spin, and he doesn’t know quite how to excuse that want if he’s sober.

Buck’s new drink is purple.

Eddie’s about to open his mouth to say something when the DJ shouts something and turns the music up louder. 

“Outside?” he yells, nodding at the back door.

Buck nods easily, throwing his head back as he downs the last bit of his drink.

Eddie’s tipsy enough to admit he stares at his throat as he swallows, and then does the same. 

It’s one of the things that’s been on his mind the most lately. He never did get around to deleting those pictures of Buck, not really. Backed them up onto his computer instead, and, yeah, jerking off with a computer is a little clunkier than it is with his phone, but he’s been able to manage.

So he’s been thinking of Buck. And it’s–it’s been days. And now Buck’s got red tinted cheeks, his lips look full and pink and obscene, and he’s been slouching enough that he has to look up at Eddie all night, and all Eddie wants is to see him on his knees. 

On his knees, choking on Eddie’s cock, making the sweetest little noises as he tries to keep quiet.

Eddie leads them out the door with a hand loosely wrapped around Buck’s wrist. 

“Who ruined your night?” Eddie asks when they step outside.

“No one. Nothing. Did you get her number?” Buck asks, so quickly it takes Eddie nearly three full seconds to process what he said. 

“What?”

“The girl. The girl you were dancing with. Did you get her number? Because she seemed pretty into you, man, if you didn’t get her number at least tell me you fucked her in the bathroom.”

Eddie smirks. There it is.

“You were jealous?”

“No,” Buck lies, staring at a spot on the wall behind Eddie. “It’s–I wasn’t. It’s stupid. It’s just…if you want to hook up with her that’s fine, but we’d have to stop what we’re doing. Whatever it is that we’re doing.”

It’s weird. It’s uncomfortable, acknowledging it like this. To say there’s something they’re doing at all.

And there is. Eddie’s seen Buck’s dick, hell—Eddie’s touched Buck’s dick more times than he ever expected to.

“I’ve done the casual hook-ups, you know, and then there was Abby.”

Buck pauses. Eddie waits. They rarely ever talk about Abby. To be fair, they rarely ever talk about Shannon, either. It’s more than just a sore subject, for both of them. Eddie knows neither of them are looking at it or poking the bruise, knows that the pain is dull, but he also knows never to push where Abby is involved. 

Buck knows the same for Shannon.

It works for them.

He’s not sure why Buck’s bringing it up now. Maybe it’s the alcohol.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Because I’m not gonna do it sober.”

Eddie shuts his mouth so quickly his teeth clack. 

“There were a lot of things I liked about sex with Abby. There were a lot of things I liked about Abby— loved, really, but I enjoyed being a little more reckless during sex with her. I did the casual hookup, and I was as safe as I could’ve possibly been. I’m talking condoms, dental dams—”

Eddie frowns. “Dental dams?”

Buck blinks at him. “Eddie. Have you never eaten pussy?”

He’s not sure why the words make the back of his neck bloom with heat.

“Of course I have. I’ve never used dental dams though, Shannon and I barely even bothered with condoms. Hence Christopher.”

Buck nods, gesturing a little too wildly with his hands like Eddie got the exact point he was trying to make. 

“Exactly. I got tested right after my first time with Abby, and then we basically ignored all safe sex precautions, because we both knew we were only with each other.”

The words linger in the air, like they’re just waiting for Eddie to catch onto them and figure out the hidden meaning, what’s really got Buck shifting from side to side in a dark alleyway in downtown Los Angeles. 

“Oh,” he mumbles as it clicks. “You want us to, what? Be exclusive?”

Buck groans, laughing as he slumps against the brick. “When you say it like that it makes us sound like we’re dating, but, yeah, I guess. We haven’t been safe up until now, and if we—” Buck clears his throat. “It’s more fun to not have to care about it, is all. So if you’re planning on hooking up with random girls we–we need to stop.”

Eddie stares at him. Buck’s open, easy expression. The way he cut himself off, like he was about to say if we do more, but couldn’t bring himself to admit to the same things that are keeping Eddie up at night. Eddie’s soft, curious expression quickly pulls up into a grin. It’s wolfish, it must be, because Buck’s eyes glimmer from the street lamps in response, bright with excitement and that fluttering edge of anticipation. 

“Why would I bother with her when I know you’re gonna be easy for me?” 

It’s a little flirtier than they normally are. Fuck it. They’re both drunk enough to excuse it. 

“You think I’m easy for you?”

Eddie reaches out, presses a hand against Buck’s already half-hard cock through his pants. 

“Easy enough.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. 

“Fuck you.”

Eddie bites back the response that comes to mind. 

There’s a dumpster on the other side of the door. It’ll hide them from view if anyone decides to go searching for it, and, judging by the way Rafael couldn’t keep his eyes to himself, someone just might. 

Eddie unzips Buck’s jeans and pushes them down just far enough that he can get his cock out. 

The weight of it is becoming familiar. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with that. Knows he can twist his fist so Buck groans, knows to put his other hand behind his head so he doesn’t knock it too hard against the brick, knows that the warmth in Buck’s eyes is genuine when he laughs at Eddie’s reaction. 

“You’re such a dad.”

Maybe he doesn’t need to be sure of what he’s supposed to do with the reality of what they’ve got going. Sometimes things can just exist in the unknown. Eddie’s notoriously awful at letting that happen, but there’s a first time for everything. This could be good practice, even. 

Buck’s making these little throaty sounds that go straight to his cock, a whine or a whimper or whatever you want to call it that’s making all the parts of his body that alcohol’s turned warm feel like they’re on fucking fire. 

“Fuck my fist,” Eddie says, a little slurred. Not from drinking, because he trusts neither of them to abuse that level of intoxication, just. The night is cool against his sweaty skin, he’s horny and about to get off with someone else’s touch, and he’s buzzing from it.

“What?”

“Fuck my fist.”

Buck stares at him, hitching his hips up experimentally. Eddie makes sure to coat his hand with the pre-come dripping at the tip so the slide’s easier, nodding encouragingly at Buck to pick up the pace with his movements. 

“This— fuck— is ridiculous,” Buck breathes out. Another whine catches in the back of his throat. Eddie’s taking them in greedily. Buck’s got one hand trying uselessly to grab at the wall, the other resting on Eddie’s bicep.

“Sounds like it’s working to me.”

“It is,” Buck moans. “God, fuck, yeah. Yeah, Eddie, like that—Jesus, got so pissed, thinking I’d have to give this up. Fuck, yes.”

Eddie meets Buck’s thrusts with drags of his own. He can tell Buck’s close by the way he’s rambling nonsensically, so he tries all the things he knows Buck likes by now, pulling him right up to the edge. 

The door swings open. Of course it does. 

“Eddie, Buck? I thought I saw you guys come out here?” Josh calls out.

Buck’s hips stutter as he fucks up into Eddie’s hand. 

“Guys?” his voice rings again. 

“Answer him,” Eddie whispers. 

“What? Are you fucking insane? Your hand is on my dick right now.”

It’s a wild limb to go out on, but he has a feeling Buck will follow his lead. Something about the way he’s so eager to please—his exhibitionist streak Eddie’s heard rumors about—has Eddie grinning and pulling his hand away. 

He raises an eyebrow. Buck curses under his breath. 

“We’re here,” Buck calls out. Eddie wraps his fingers around him again, watching his chest as his breath hitches. “Eddie–Eddie’s throwing up, we’re probably gonna head home.”

“Oh do you need me to—”

“No! No. You go back, I’ll take care of it. We’re both first responders, it’s fine.”

Eddie doubles his efforts, fast and rough and dirty. Buck bites his lip to contain a moan, but a hint of it slips through, anyway. It’s impossibly hot. Eddie feels like he’s losing his mind. 

“Okay,” Josh says, and goes back into the noise and chaos of the club. 

Buck comes the second the door shuts.

Exactly like Eddie expected him to.

“That was—”

“Sorry I didn’t ask,” Eddie cuts him off. “I just figured you’d be into it.”

Buck stares at him. He’s a sight like this—pants unzipped, shirt rumbled and pushed up to reveal the trail of hair leading down to his cock, skin flushed pink everywhere Eddie can see. 

He looks wrecked. Eddie feels rightfully smug about it. 

“Can I try something? It’s–I’ve dated dommes before, okay, and, sometimes, they’d use their strap—”

“You’ve done that?”

Buck scoffs. “Eddie, you should know me enough by now to know the answer to that is usually yes.”

“You don’t talk about it much, to be honest. I try not to push.”

Buck smiles at him, the kind of Buck-smile that’s known to make girls weak in the knees, the kind of smile Eddie was a little desperate to pull out of him when they first met. It didn’t take much—just a grenade—but it settled something in him. It would’ve sucked to have to work with someone who hated his guts. 

“And you’re a great best friend because of this, but, yeah, man. I’ve been pegged. But what I was going to say,” he says, his smirk teasing as he flips them around, pushes Eddie against the wall, and sinks to his knees, oh holy fuck—

“Sometimes,” Buck starts slowly, fingers hovering over Eddie’s zipper as he waits for Eddie to nod his consent. “They’d make me suck the strap first.”

He’ll blame the years he went without sex for the way the visual nearly makes him come. 

“Yeah. Yeah, fuck, do it.”

Buck grins wickedly, almost ferally. Eddie’s blood feels hot in his veins. 

The brick feels rough against his ass when Buck pulls everything down in one swift move; his cock hits Buck in the cheek. Eddie almost expects him to realize this is a little too much, but Buck just eyes him hungrily instead. 

“If I’m bad at this, in my defense, the dicks I’ve sucked couldn’t feel it.”

“Buck, I haven’t had someone’s mouth on me in years. I’m sure you’ll be—oh fucking Jesus—” Eddie moans as Buck teasing licks a strip up his cock. He pauses, like he’s debating whether or not he likes the taste on his tongue. 

And then he wraps his lips around the head and sucks, just as experimental, and just as heady. Eddie really hasn’t gotten laid in a while. Between the three jobs, Chris, and the fact that he was still married and nowhere near over Shannon enough to bring a girl home, he hasn’t done anything. With anyone. 

It’s clear Buck’s never properly done this before; his eyebrows scrunch when Eddie’s dick jerks a little in his mouth and pre-come lands on his tongue, but he seems to be enjoying it. More than any girl Eddie’s ever been with.

Buck’s enthusiastic and a little sloppy. He doesn’t manage to get much of Eddie in his mouth, but it’s enough to have him digging his nails into his palms in an effort to not fuck into the warm heat. 

The door swings open. Again. 

To be fair, it is kind of their fault for getting off in a public place.

But, goddamn, they could have better timing. 

Buck pulls off his dick, panting and wide eyed as he looks up at Eddie. Jesus, if he looked wrecked before he sure as hell looks wrecked now. His lips are pink and full and covered in spit. Eddie’s dick jerks at the side, pre-come landing on his lips. 

His tongue darts out to lick it away. 

Eddie inhales sharply. 

“Hey!” someone calls out. “If there are people fucking out here, just know I’m calling the cops. You can’t do that shit here.” 

Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. Buck smirks and takes Eddie in as far as he can. Eddie mutters a string of curse words that would have his catholic school teachers washing his mouth with all the soap in El Paso. 

He feels the way Buck chokes around him a little. Can see the way tears collect in the corners of his eyes, making the blue—the little ring of it that’s left from how lust-blown his pupils are—brighter. Like Eddie’s looking into a pool, the summer light reflecting on the water. 

His hand reaches out tentatively, fingers knotting in Buck’s hair. Buck moans around him, sucks harder, the hand that’s fisted around what he can’t reach moving faster as he doubles his efforts. 

It’s good. It’s better than anyone else he’s ever had, probably because Buck’s a guy and knows what it feels like on the other end. Maybe guys just suck dick better. Probably it’s the alcohol, too, making his skin buzz everywhere Buck’s touching it. 

“Fuck, your mouth. You’re doing so good, shit, so good,” Eddie moans. Buck’s eyes flutter shut at the praise, swirling his tongue around the head. “Buck, Buck, pull off I’m gonna, shit, I’m gonna come if you don’t stop—”

Buck pulls back but his hand keeps moving. When Eddie comes, some of it lands on Buck’s cheek. It’s obscene. Eddie slumps against the brick wall and laughs, an edge of hysteria to the sound as he stares up at the cloudless night sky.

“Remember what I said about eating more fruit?” Buck jokes, looking up at Eddie with a fond half smile and a teasing glint to his eyes. 

“Oh, fuck you,” he says with a laugh. “You’re the one who wanted to suck my dick, man.”

Buck shrugs, a little sheepish. “I liked it.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“You like giving head?”

The gleam in Buck’s blue eyes is dangerous. “Giving head , Eddie, is gender neutral. And I love eating pussy.” 

The way he says it, the way the words are rough as they scratch up his throat (because of Eddie’s cock), the way his voice is pitched low, like it’s somehow a secret that Buck likes to please has Eddie hot under the collar. If he were paler like Buck, he’s pretty sure he’d be flushed bright pink to the tips of his ears. 

His dick is still out. Buck leans forward and licks at the head of his cock like he can’t help himself. It’s a sight and a half, seeing him so debauched, so fucked out, so needy for it. 

Eddie feels like he’s going insane. 

“But I gotta say—I get why some girls are so into it. I’ve had worse experiences.”

There’s a lot that feels unsaid. Eddie doesn’t know why. It’s not like they usually talk after this anyway, but, for some reason, the silence feels a lot heavier this time.

It’s probably the alcohol making him see things that aren’t there. Or, feel things that aren’t there. Here. In this alley. 

His head is spinning. 

He tucks his dick back into his pants.

“You wanna go chill at mine?” Buck asks as he gets up. His jeans are dirty at the knees, and it makes what they just did all the more real.

Whatever. A hand is a hand is a mouth. Why should he care when it felt good? 

“Movie?”

“Sure.” Buck nods. “You don’t have Chris until tomorrow, right?”

“Right.”

“Sweet, you should stay the night then.”

“You inviting me to a sleepover, Buckley?”

“I’m inviting you to crash at my apartment because it’s already close to one in the morning and there’s no way you’ll be able to make it through an entire movie starting now.”

Eddie narrows his eyes playfully.

The door swings open again, rather violently this time. 

“If anyone is still out here fuckin’, just know the cops are on their way.”

They make their exit pretty quickly after that.

+

“How come you never talk about Shannon?” Buck asks out of nowhere a few days after the club. Eddie’s managed to be a perfectly well adjusted individual about it, somehow (re: not jumping Buck every thirty seconds in a desperate attempt to get his mouth on him again). 

He wishes they could do something about it today. Wants to get his lips around Buck’s cock, even if he’s a little anxious about the thought. Buck looked like he was enjoying it, though, and Eddie doesn’t like when things feel…unbalanced. 

He got Buck off that night, sure, but a handjob and a blowjob aren’t the same. Every guy knows that. 

Eddie can tell Buck’s been thinking about it, too. Sunday, at the station, Buck nearly tripped down the stairs on his way out the loft when Eddie made prolonged eye contact with him while eating a banana. 

They’re at a park, though, because Christopher had an early release day and the room moms planned a pic-nic in the park since the weather’s been nice. Buck wasn’t planning on joining, but he showed up at Eddie’s right as he was about to leave, and included himself in the afternoon.

Denise, the main room and head of the PTA (also, the scariest person Eddie’s ever met and he’s pretty sure she isn’t even five feet tall), has set up a table with snacks and juice boxes on the other end of the park.

Eddie may or may not have set up his picnic blanket under the furthest large tree in hopes that she avoids him entirely.

Sue him, the woman is terrifying, and way, way too friendly. 

Besides, he can see Christopher perfectly fine from here. He’s playing in the sand box with a couple of his friends, laughing loudly every time a little blue bird lands on his sand castle. 

God, Eddie loves his kid.

“How come you never talk about Abby?” Eddie shoots back after a second. He grabs Buck’s LAFD duffle pack and puts it under his head so he can lie down. The sun’s filtering through the trees. When Eddie casts a look over in Buck’s direction, his face is painted with the shadows of the leaves, but there always seems to be a beam of sunlight hitting his eyebrow, making the birthmark look pink, pink, pink, and his eye a crystal clear blue.

“Should we talk about them?”

“No,” Eddie says too quickly. 

“I think that means yes.”

Eddie sighs. “What is there to say? We fell in love quickly. Senior year of high school—it’s funny. I was in all the sports teams, but I wasn’t popular, or anything. Shannon was, though. Student body president and head cheerleader. She was–she was smart. Got a scholarship for UT Dallas, biology major. I would’ve followed her out there—didn’t want to stay with my parents, obviously, but I didn’t wanna leave Texas, either.”

Buck nods, waiting patiently for him to keep going. Eddie hasn’t told anyone this…ever. But this is his best friend. Eddie–Eddie trusts him. With himself, with his son, with his past. With Shannon. He barely trusts himself with her, but he knows Buck will be kind.

Buck is always kind. 

He continues. 

“I would’ve gone to the community college, probably. Try to get enough credits to transfer.”

“What would you have gone to college for?”

Eddie smiles, tight and clipped at the corners. “Uh, history. I wanted to be a history teacher.”

“Really?”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised. It was my only good subject, you know, and coaching little leagues doesn’t pay the bills.”

“You didn’t think of becoming a high school coach or something? Or, I mean, you were a medic in the army, right? Why didn’t you do anything related to that?”

Eddie shakes his head, staring at the sunlight long enough that his visions get dotted. “I hated all my coaches. They…pushed. I always pushed back. I was in detention every week, I was the reason we had extra suicides every practice.”

Buck snorts, but not in a rude way. It’s familiar. It makes him feel known in a way that isn’t uncomfortable. 

“You? Pushed back? I thought you were all cool under pressure ,” he says, deepening his voice on the last three words like he’s trying to make himself sound cool. Manly. Eddie chuckles. 

“Shut up, man. But, no, I didn’t get into the whole…medical, body stuff until I joined the army. I never wanted to hurt anyone. A lot of the kids I grew up with had plans ready to enlist before they ever finished high school, some of my friends on the baseball team were excited about it. They were all talking about joining the military, saying shit, you know how high school boys can be.”

Buck nods, grabbing the bag of goldfish and shoving a handful into his mouth. 

“Shannon got pregnant before any of that could happen. She decided to go to school anyway, a community college in El Paso where she could get her bachelors. I joined the army, Shannon finished her degree. She left, sent divorce papers, and then I moved to LA. You know the rest.”

“That’s rough, man. But hey, you’ve got Christopher.”

Eddie smiles, watching his son meticulously fill up a bucket before carefully flipping it upside down. 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t trade him for anything.”

They’re silent for a moment, just enjoying the weather. Eddie watches a bird fly from tree to tree, breathing in time with its movement. Inhale as it flies, exhale as it lands. It’s almost lulling him to sleep, his eyelids slipping shut.

There’s movement beside him. Buck shuffling on the picnic blanket. 

“Move over, I wanna share the pillow.”

Eddie snorts, eyes staying shut, but he scoots over so Buck’s head can lay beside his.

Somehow, despite the fact that Buck’s sucked his dick, this feels like the gayest thing they’ve ever done. It’s…soft. The quiet afternoon, the picnic, the vulnerability Eddie never lets anyone see—it’s weirdly intimate. 

“I met Abby on a call,” Buck starts carefully. Eddie doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s staring straight up at the sky, squinting at light, just to avoid Eddie’s gaze. Because he’s a great best friend—and because he feels a bit like a cat who just wants to nap in the warm glow of the sun—he doesn’t look at him. 

“She was the dispatcher. The beginning of our relationship was over the phone, I–I was worried we’d meet and fall into bed.”

“Confident.”

“Cocky,” Buck shoots back. “It–Buck 1.0 was someone I didn’t like even when I was him. He was arrogant, you know, and–and he was an asshole.”

“Hey,” Eddie interjects softly, finally opening his eyes to look at Buck. Unsurprisingly, Buck doesn’t look back at him. “You can’t beat yourself up about that, you’re not that guy anymore. You’re the type of guy who wants to fix things. You’re a good person, Buck.”

“It’s ‘cause of Abby. She’s the reason I’m like this. She–she helped me realize I could do better, I could be better.”

“Buck,” Eddie deadpans, bumping their shoulders until Buck’s looking back at him. His eyes are worried, his bottom lip is tugged between his teeth, and he’s searching for something in Eddie’s expression, the tilt to his brow so scared, so hopeful for someone to see him for all that he is and choose to stay, anyway.

Eddie’s not sure when it happened. Not sure when Buck went from a coworker to his best friend in the whole world, to the guy who helps him without being asked and who sits with Eddie in a park full of kids just so he can avoid the PTA moms. 

He’ll stay. Of course he’ll stay. He’s never had a friend like him. 

“You’re the reason for the person you are now. There are always people in our lives who help us find our way, yeah, but you’re the only person who can, like, take you there in the end.”

“I didn’t deserve Abby.”

Eddie scoffs. 

“You didn’t deserve the woman who left you? The woman posted a picture on Instagram with a new man and didn’t even text you ‘I want to break up’? The woman you waited for in her apartment while she was fucking other people? That woman? I’m with Maddie on this one, I’m not a fan of Abby.”

Buck’s eyebrows scrunch. “You talk to my sister?”

“She came by the station looking for you a few months ago. You and Hen had left on a coffee run, and she wanted to drop off your wallet. You had forgotten it, I guess.”

“I remember that! I was still looking for my own apartment, that was ages ago.”

“Yeah, well, Maddie was telling me how you were moping about being in an empty apartment all by yourself, and she may or may not have lightly, casually bitched about Abby in your absence.”

“Please don’t tell me you two text.”

“Relax, only when we’re talking shit about you.”

Buck throws a goldfish at him. 

“Fuck you.”

“Mm,” Eddie says, rolling his head back so he’s facing the sky again. The sun has moved a little so the light’s hitting him instead of Buck. A pleasant breeze blows past them, ruffles Eddie’s t-shirt, pushing it up enough that it exposes his hipbone and the light trail of hair leading down into his pants. 

When he opens one eye to look at Buck, his eyes are trained on that patch of skin. He blushes prettily when his eyes land back on Eddie’s.

“We should do a repeat. Of the club.” Buck’s voice is low and rough. Eddie smirks. 

“We should. Maybe I could give it a try this time, too?”

Buck’s eyes go wide. 

“You want to?”

“You seem to like it. I’m curious.”

Buck shimmies, readjusting his sweatpants. “You can’t just say that, man.”

Eddie laughs, bright and easy, grateful—not for the first time—that he’s got this little life here. That Los Angeles was so unbelievably kind to him, that it brought him the 118, that it’s made his son happy, that it brought him Buck. 

He doesn’t believe in much of anything anymore. Doesn’t really think of god unless Buck’s on his knees in front of him—thinks, privately, that that’s the closest thing to worship he’s ever experienced—and he’d rather die than admit to Chimney that, hey, maybe there is such thing as the universe, because something’s gotta be on his side.

Christopher calls Buck over to show him his sandcastle creation. Buck gets up, his smile evident in his voice as he calls out to him, and Eddie feels a little bit like winning the lottery can’t be better than this.

+

His phone buzzes. Eddie just got home after a twenty-four hour shift, waving Carla goodnight at the door. His body feels heavy with exhaustion, and all he wants to do is kiss an already sleeping Christopher goodnight and collapse into bed.

His phone buzzes again.

Sighing, he fishes it out and checks the screen. 

Buck to 118 & Co:

hey guys! finally settled into my apartment, wanted to host everyone over tmrw since we all have the wknd off?

Chimney to 118 & Co:

So long as you and Eddie promise not to cook 

Buck to 118 & Co:

cap’s been teaching me! i’m not that bad

…also i’m ordering takeout

taking suggestions on where from ?

Maddie Buckley to 118 & Co:

What about that Chinese place by Trader Joe’s?

Eddie’s stomach lurches unpleasantly at the thought. He and Chris have had way too much Chinese since moving to LA. Carla, saint that she is, leaves him with plenty of left-overs in the fridge, but, somehow, they always end up having more take-out than Eddie’s happy about. 

Slowly, he tiptoes into Christopher’s room. His son is asleep, his face relaxed and his breathing even. Eddie takes a moment to stand there in the doorway, wishing there was a way to keep him this little forever.

He drops a featherlight kiss to his forehead and fishes his phone out as he’s closing the door.

Eddie Diaz to 118 & Co:

What about that BBQ place off Jefferson?

He plugs his phone in and drops it on his nightstand, going through the motions of getting ready for bed. The face that stares back at him in the mirror is one he’s far too familiar with—eyes half-lidded, dark circles underneath them, barely there hints of a five o’clock shadow he’s gonna put off dealing with until the very last minute. 

The porcelain of the sink is cool against his forearms where he’s leaning against it. It’s dim in the bathroom. When he first moved in, the three bulbs above the mirror were way too bright for someone who works odd hours, so he unscrewed two. Left just one light on, warm and faint as it illuminates his features softly.

His phone buzzes again, loud against the wood of his nightstand. 

Eddie sighs, collapsing in bed as he pulls his phone off the charger. It’s another text from Buck, this time in their private chat. 

Buck:

if we get bbq are u gonna lick bbq sauce slowly off ur fingers while maintaining intimate eye contact ;)

Eddie snorts.

Eddie:

Maybe not, but I’m pretty sure I can arrange a sleepover between one Christopher Diaz and one Denny Wilson so I can stay over. Maybe help with cleanup ;)

He feels like a teenager planning a hook up when he knows his parents are gonna be out of the house. He’s not sure why it makes him so giddy. 

It makes him feel young. Like the years of trauma don’t sit so heavily on his shoulders. It’s…it’s nice. He feels lighter, like he doesn’t have bullet wound scars on his chest, like he never went to war, like Shannon didn’t leave him in the dead of night, like he didn’t leave her first. 

Buck:

i’m too tired to be horny rn

but tomorrow! i need to suck your dick again

Eddie chuckles, his cheeks heating up.

Eddie:

Go to sleep, Buck

Buck:

goodnight eddie :)

Eddie likes the message and turns his phone off, sleep overtaking him quickly.

+

Buck’s new loft is nice. He’s been here already, when he was helping Buck move some of the furniture a few weeks ago, and it was nice then—industrial and sleek, tall windows that let in a lot of natural light. It’s not as homey as Eddie would’ve expected Buck to go for, but it’s nice, nonetheless. 

It’s a lot more lived in now than it was when Eddie was last here. Pictures on the walls, books on the shelves, and the smell of barbecue floating through the air the second Eddie opens the door. 

LA barbecue doesn’t hit the way Texan barbecue does, but, then again, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s hard to beat Texas in that particular competition. 

Admittedly, though, the smell is mouthwatering. 

Buck sees him from across the room; Eddie lets himself in upon seeing the It’s Open, Come In! sign posted to his front door. 

Strong arms wrap around him before bending down to pick Christopher up and spin him around. Chris giggles loudly, and Eddie catches Hen’s gaze over Buck’s shoulder. There’s a glint to it he doesn’t recognize, a knowing curve to her smile that makes him squirm. 

“Hi,” Buck says, his eyes squinted from the force of his smile. He adjusts Chris so that he’s settled on his hip, Christopher staring at the side of Buck’s head with that same awed expression that always seems to cross his features when he sees Buck. 

Eddie gets it. He’ll never admit it out loud because it would just go straight to Buck’s ego, but he gets it. 

“Hey, man. Place looks good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks around, his eyes catching on a bright yellow bin beside the console table in the living room. “Is that–is that a lego bin?”

Buck’s head whips around to see what Eddie’s talking about, a confused furrow to his brow. “Oh!” he says, turning back around. “Yeah, I wanted, y’know. I wanted you guys to feel at home here. I wanted–I wanted Chris to feel at home here.”

“Can I go play with them?” Chris asks, wide eyed. 

“Of course, buddy. I haven’t let Denny open it. I was waiting for you.”

Eddie swallows down whatever emotion threatens to burst out of his chest. His relationship with Shannon was so rocky. They didn’t–they never co-parented. Shannon raised Chris by herself, and then it was Eddie’s turn. He never had a partner, and he was never a partner to Shannon, either. 

It’s weird to think he might have that with Buck. That he might not be so alone in this.

He doesn’t know how to put that into words, though. Or how to make it come across in a way that doesn’t sound like a love confession, because that’s not what this is. And he doesn’t need Buck to take it like that.

He’ll suck his dick later in thanks. 

Chris makes his way over to the legos, calling Denny over to open it with him.

It’s a big box, Eddie realizes, as Chris struggles to pull the lid off. 

“Buck, how much was it?” Legos aren’t cheap. It’s one of the saddest realities of being a parent to a brilliant, creative child—all of his interests cost more than Eddie likes to think about. 

“I didn’t even notice the price in comparison to all the furniture I had to buy for this place. Seriously, don’t sweat it. I mean, I want Chris to know he’s always got a space here. You two are my best friends, I’m just…trying to ensure that I’m that for you, too.”

“Buck,” he says. Pleads, really. Hopes he can convey just how much Buck means to him with one look. “Of course you are.”

He beams. Eddie reaches out, puts a hand on his bicep and squeezes gently. The contact makes his skin feel like it’s on fire, the way Buck’s touch always does. 

God, he wants him. He wants him so bad the thought alone is intoxicating. 

“Good.” They stare at each other for longer than is probably appropriate. The rest of their friends are all here, Eddie should probably go say hi to them. But that would mean stepping away from Buck and his smile and the heat of his body so close to his.

Eddie is at a level of horny he didn’t know he possessed. 

“You want to eat?” Buck asks, glint in his eyes that spells mischief. 

“I could eat,” Eddie answers, the tilt to his smirk matching the mirth in Buck’s expression. 

“Are you two gonna stand there or are you gonna say hi?” Chimney butts in, poking his head around Buck.

“We were just about to eat.”

“Right,” Chimney draws out, looking at Eddie with a shit-eating grin. “He hasn’t let anyone eat anything, by the way. Wouldn’t let me look at the food because you weren’t here.”

“That’s not true,” Buck protests. “I wanted to wait until everyone got here.”

“It’s okay, Buckaroo, you can admit that Eddie’s your favorite. I have a different Buckley who likes me better.”

Buck scrunches his face in disgust. “Ew, dude. That’s my sister.”

Chimney’s stomach growls. 

“Maybe if you fed me, I would be kinder,” he teases. 

“This is why I like Eddie better.”

Chimney walks away, yelling at someone to grab the plates, because he’s starving. Eddie hip checks Buck as he steps around him, pausing to whisper low and rough in his ear. 

“I hope that’s not the only reason why you like me better,” he murmurs, lips close enough to brush against the shell of his ear. Eddie hopes everyone else is too busy with the food to notice. Doesn’t think God likes him enough to offer that amount of kindness, but he can hope. 

“You’re a dick.”

“I have it in good standing that you like my dick.”

“Asshole,” Buck mutters, and leads them over to the food, cutting Chimney off at the potato salad and grabbing a large serving of it for Christopher. Eddie smiles a little smugly at Chim’s indignant squawk. 

It’s later when Maddie corners him on the balcony. He’s leaning on his forearms, watching the bustle of the city moving underneath him. At first, he thinks the person who sidles up to him is buck, until he realizes whoever’s next to him is about an entire foot shorter.

“I’m glad he has you and Chris, you know,” Maddie says. They’ve had approximately one conversation just the two of them—that time in the station—but he likes her well enough. She’s like a sweeter version of Buck, and just as genuine. 

Buck doesn’t talk about his childhood much, but Eddie pays attention to the glimpses he’s given. How Maddie was there for him more than his parents ever were. It’s enough for Eddie to like Maddie, despite the few interactions they’ve had. 

“We’re glad we have him,” he says.

“I’ve always worried about him. Older sister things, I guess. And Evan, he’s…all he’s ever wanted was someone who had his back. Someone to choose him.”

Eddie’s mouth is dry and he swallows uncomfortably. 

“We’re–I mean–it’s not– we’re not—”

Maddie takes pity on him, laughing pleasantly. Her brown eyes are deep and warm, the complete opposite from Buck’s blue. 

“Eddie, I didn’t mean it like that. Though, you two do seem pretty close. Nothing to share?”

I can’t wait for everyone to leave so I can have his dick in my mouth, but besides that, nothing.

“We’re both straight. But I’m pretty sure that if that were to ever change, you’d be the first person he’d tell.”

Maddie’s eyes twinkle. 

“I better be.”

She turns quick on her heel and walks out of the balcony. The door slides open, but takes a moment to slide shut. Eddie doesn’t turn to look until the familiar heat he was expecting earlier sidles up next to him, offering him a beer.

“You weren’t talking shit about me, were you?” 

The honest answer—telling Buck that Maddie, for some reason, thinks they’re, what? Romantically involved?—is harder to say than Eddie expects. 

“Obviously. What else would we talk about?”

Buck’s shoulder bumps into him. 

“Shut up.”

Eddie tilts his head back, taking a sip of his beer and staring out at the skyline. 

“Make me,” he states, as boldly as he can. 

Buck splutters, choking on his beer. 

Eddie laughs a little, turning to smile at him only to find Buck already looking back at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes, even as he coughs.

“Later,” he whispers.

Eddie’s gonna hold him to that.

“I think,” Eddie starts slowly. “That you should kick these people out already. I’ll stay for cleanup, of course. Cause I’m a good friend.”

“Cause you wanna get your dick sucked.”

“That, too.”

The door opens again, slower this time. Eddie hears the tell-tale signs of Christopher’s crutches as he pushes the door open. 

“Hey, bud,” he says as he turns to look at him.

“Dad, can Denny and I have a sleepover?”

Eddie doesn’t even have to think about it.

“At Hen’s, right? Because I told your Abuelita I was available early tomorrow to take her to a doctor’s appointment.”

Hen appears behind Christopher, Denny practically vibrating with anticipation beside him. 

“That’s fine. You owe me a date night, though.”

“Done.”

“We’re gonna head out then. My wife may or may not have promised we could get ice cream on the way home.”

“I was manipulated into agreeing!” Karen yells from inside of the loft. “It’s not my fault those two are the cutest.”

“Well, hey, thanks for coming. And I appreciate the bottle of wine.”

Eddie follows Buck inside as everyone leaves, kisses on cheeks and hugs goodbye, everyone congratulating him on finally getting his own place. He has the very convenient excuse of “promised Buck I’d stick around for clean up” and it shows how codependent they are that nobody even questions it.

Buck’s hands are on him the second everyone’s out the door. 

Large, warm palms manhandle him, pressing him up against the dark wood door. They don’t kiss—that’d be crossing way too many lines. Sex is sex, kissing is…intimate. It’s romantic. It’s, well, gay. 

And that’s something well established that they aren’t.

In that moment, though, Eddie desperately wishes Buck’s lips could claim his in a rough, biting, bruising kiss. It’d fit the moment, is all. He’s pushed Shannon up one too many surfaces and kissed her senseless one too many times, his body’s just expecting it.

So when Buck doesn’t kiss him and instead starts trailing his hands up and down Eddie’s body, when lips don’t land on his but instead press featherlight against his hip bone as Buck sinks to his knees, Eddie…well, pout isn’t the right word, but it’s a little disappointing. 

“I have not stopped,” Buck pauses, licking up Eddie’s happy trail, “thinking about,” sharp teeth nipping just above his belt, “sucking your cock.”

Eddie’s cock twitches in his pants. 

“You can’t say shit like that, man.”

“Is that a yes?” Buck asks, pressing his hand against Eddie’s quickly hardening cock. “To me sucking you off?”

“You know the answer to that.”

Buck undoes his belt slowly, pulling the zipper down at his own, irritatingly leisurely pace. “I’m gonna need a yes, Eddie.”

“Yes. I want you on your knees with my dick in your mouth, is that what you want me to say?”

Buck pulls his pants down and gets his cock out, giving it an experimental stroke. 

“Was that so hard?”

And then takes Eddie into his mouth, getting about halfway before gagging a little, one hand around everything his mouth can’t reach and the other playing with Eddie’s balls in a way that makes his hips hitch up on their own accord. 

“Fuck, sorry” Eddie hisses, Buck just hums in response. He threads his fingers through Buck’s hair, tugging at the strands, and relishing in the way Buck’s eyes slide shut, his tongue swirling around the head. Eddie guides his head off, watching blue eyes open slowly as they look up at him. Buck teasingly licks up the precome leaking out of his slit, licking at the sensitive underside of the head. 

Buck pulls off, his hand still moving, just tight enough that it has Eddie moaning, low and rough, the sound punched out from the back of his throat. 

“You should–you should fuck my mouth,” Buck says shakily. 

Eddie’s cock, somehow, gets harder. 

“Are you sure?” he double checks, because Buck sounds a little uncertain. 

“Yes. Yes, please, I want you to fuck my mouth.”

Eddie uses the hand still twisted in those ungelled curls, and guides him forward again. Buck opens his mouth willingly, eyelashes batting prettily as he looks up. 

It’s hard not to thrust into the heat of his mouth, not to sink in all the way, especially when Buck uses his tongue to make the slide slick; Eddie’s teasing himself with how slow he’s going, and Buck looks borderline impatient beneath him. 

Buck hollows his cheeks as Eddie pulls him forward, until he can feel the flutter of Buck’s throat around him. 

“Pinch my thigh if you need to stop.” 

Buck taps his thigh in understanding. 

He starts off shallowly, trying to not hurt Buck or go too far, but it’s difficult not to fuck his face. Not when Buck’s so willing, sitting so still, mouth open, hard cock neglected where it’s pushing against the fabric of his pants. 

“You feel so good, Buck, so perfect. Made for sucking dick, weren’t you? This is why all your exes had you on your knees. And they couldn’t even feel you, not like this.”

Buck moans, the sound making heat pool heavy in his belly. Eddie keeps fucking into him, hitching his hips a little deeper every time. Buck gags around him, but his hands don’t move from where they’re resting on his thighs. The room feels blurry around the edges, time feels thick, and his dick feels like it’s going to spurt come down the back of Buck’s throat faster than he’d like to admit.

Eddie moves his hand down so his thumb presses into Buck’s birthmark, digging in just above his eye, watching as it flutters shut. One day, he thinks through the fog of arousal, he’d like to see if he can aim his come on it like it’s a target. 

And then he realizes that’s a bizarre thought to have, and fucks into Buck’s mouth a little more frantically. 

“Feel so perfect around my cock.”

Buck’s making little noises—not quite moaning, little punched out uh uh uh’s that are just short of a gag. It’s filthy. It’s making Eddie’s head spin. 

“I’m gonna come,” he warns and tries to pull off but is kept in place by Buck’s hands wrapping around his thighs. “Buck,” he squirms, trying to pull off. “Buck, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

Buck swirls his tongue around and hollows his cheeks, and Eddie spills into the back of his throat with a groan. 

“You just—”

“Was that okay?” Buck asks sheepishly after he pulls off, voice rough and come dripping from the corner of his lips. 

“Yes. Very okay, Jesus, Buck. I don’t think I’ll be able to match that.”

Buck waves him off. 

“Trust me, I’ve gotten off to the thought of you sucking my dick more times that I care to admit.”

Eddie gets a little flustered at that. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Buck hums, pushing himself up off the floor and stretching out the ache in his knees. “Got myself off in the station thinking about it the other day. Your lips stretched around my cock, it was a forty-eight hour shift and the showers were empty. Couldn’t help myself.”

Eddie shivers, the words enough to make his dick twitch. He’s not twenty anymore—can’t quite get hard again that quickly—but, by god, does his dick try. 

“Well?” Buck raises an eyebrow, glancing between his hard cock and Eddie’s lips. “You gonna do it, Diaz? Get me off with that pretty mouth of yours?”

Eddie sinks to his knees before he can even really process what’s happening. 

“Didn’t peg you as the type for dirty talk,” he tells Buck as he undoes his pants. It’s intimidating, being down on his knees like this. He knew what he was getting into with women, when Shannon would grip his hair and guide his tongue across her clit, he’d sink into the headiness of it, he’d let himself get lost in the way she’d overcome all of his senses. 

This is different. When Buck’s cock springs free it feels suddenly a whole lot clearer that he’s working with something he’s not used to.

But it’s just a body. And Eddie wants to make him feel good. 

“I’m into a lot of things,” Buck says, voice a little breathy when Eddie strokes a hand up and down in an effort to emotionally prepare himself. “You don’t have to, you know. Not that I don’t want you to, but it’s kind of scary. It was for me, anyway, and I’d already done it with plastic dicks and oh, my god—”

Eddie smirks, licking up the underside of his dick again. Buck’s sensitive, he figured that out pretty quickly. It makes everything so much more fun.

Because Eddie’s body reacts pretty normally. Well, he thinks it’s normal. It’s not like he’s got enough partners to compare the experiences to, but he doesn’t have any complaints about himself. 

Buck, though? Buck’s dick jumps with the slightest brush against his nipples, the slowest drag of knuckles against his cock; one heated look from under his lashes and Buck’s putty in his hands.

It goes to his head a little. Makes him kind of wild with the ease, with the willingness that Buck will drop his guard around him. 

He takes the head into his mouth and sucks on it. Is rewarded with precome dripping onto his tongue, and Buck doesn’t–he doesn’t taste good, but it’s a little addictive. It’s nothing like eating pussy—there’s a weight on his tongue that’s unfamiliar, the taste is saltier, sharper, and it’s not as all encompassing as it was when he was dragging his tongue up Shannon’s folds, but it’s still overpowering in a way that makes him light headed.

And the way Buck whimpers when he sinks a little lower? The way his fingers thread into Eddie’s air tight enough to ache?

Yeah, that he’s familiar with. Maybe some things aren’t that different after all. 

Sucking dick is harder than it looks. Eddie does his best to keep the slide slick with spit, moving his hand on the parts he can’t reach, focusing on the head because he figured it out pretty quickly that that drives Buck crazy. 

He swipes his tongue along the slit, lets himself sink into the feeling of Buck’s taste everywhere. Tears prickle in the corner of his eyes when he sinks too far, but Buck moans—loud and shameless—at the feeling, so Eddie does it again. 

“Oh, shit, yeah. That’s good, that’s good, fuck, keep doing that.”

Eddie would grin if his mouth was currently otherwise occupied. 

The longer he’s down here the nicer it is. The weight is almost grounding and, sure, his jaw aches a little because Buck’s thick, but once he’s got a feel for it, once he finds a solid rhythm, he finds he’s actually enjoying it.

Well, of course he is. It’s sex, he’s pretty sure most people enjoy sex. He’d worry more for his sexuality if Buck was fucking into him, but it’s not like this is a big deal.

“Eddie, oh my god, oh my god, you feel so good. So many girls in Los Angeles but none of them look this pretty on their knees, oh my god—”

He comes without any warning, which. Rude. Eddie tries to swallow as much as he can, but ends up coughing, come dripping down his chin. He wipes at it with the back of his hand, and, because he’s a bit of an asshole, wipes the back of that hand on Buck’s stomach just to watch the way he tries to squirm away from it.

“Warning next time,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the pale, pink flushed skin right along the V of his hips because he can’t quite help it. When he stands, the look on Buck’s face is flustered, and he’s not sure if it’s from the orgasm or the kiss.

“Sorry. It was okay, though, right?”

Eddie shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I think I prefer going down on women.”

Buck shoves him lightly. “You’re an ass.”

“You come down my throat with no warning, and I’m the problem?”

“Maybe if you didn’t look so hot I would’ve been able to warn you. Besides, you came down my throat, too.”

“You said I could,” Eddie says, pointing a finger at him. 

“I don’t remember saying much of anything.”

“Well, I remember giving you a warning and you choosing not to pull off.”

Buck’s face scrunches as he tilts it, looking at Eddie with a teasing expression. It’s funny, they’re talking about coming down each other’s throats but they could easily be talking about the big hero stunt Buck pulled on call the other day, the ease of it the same. If that’s not the definition of a stable, solid friendship, Eddie doesn’t know what is.

A weird part of him wants to brag about it to Hen and Chimney. They’re probably listed in the dictionary as part of the definition for best friends, but he doesn’t even think they would exchange mutual blowjobs.

It’s a testament to how close he and Buck have gotten so quickly that none of this feels even a little weird. It was kind of awkward the first time, probably because they didn’t really talk about it, but now that it’s become a thing ? Now that they know this is just a new, added layer of their relationship?

Eddie’s into it.

Eddie’s really into it.

“Yeah, that’s fair. This is why I said we could only fuck each other. Messy blowjobs are way more fun than blowjobs with a condom.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Buck pokes him in the stomach. “You enjoyed it.”

Buck’s staring at him, long eyelashes a little wet because he was gagging as Eddie fucked his face, and Eddie can tell that he wants him to agree. Can tell Buck needs the affirmation that Eddie enjoyed himself. And Eddie?

Well, he doesn’t think he could deny Buck anything. 

“Of course I did.”

Buck’s smile is wide and bashful, the same grin he gave Eddie after the grenade. 

Eddie feels a little weak in the knees.

Eddie loves his parents. They have their differences and it’s rare that they see eye to eye on anything, but he was raised to value family. And his parents fucked up a lot, but he did too, and nothing’s ever that black and white, anyway, so he loves them, despite everything.

He loves them a little less right now, though. It’s nine in the morning on a Saturday off—one that was blissfully plan free—and his parents are standing on his doorstep. 

To be honest, Eddie didn’t even realize they had his address.

“Eddie, son, it’s good to see you,” his dad says, his accent twisting around his words the way they always have. 

“Are you gonna invite us in?” his mom questions, cheerful and aggravating the way she’s always been. 

Eddie loves them, he tries to remind himself.

“I didn’t realize you were coming,” he says with a tight smile, still not opening the door further to allow them through. 

“Well, we were planning on doing this at your abuela’s, mijo, but she hasn’t been feeling well enough to host everybody, so we’re coming to you.”

Eddie blinks, trying not to let anger simmer as he stares at his father. 

“Who’s everybody?”

+

Three hours later and his kitchen smells like chicken and spices, everything that makes his house look like a home stuff away into boxes and closets, and every Diaz living in the state of California is standing in his living room. 

“I’m sorry, Eddito,” Tia Pepa says, squeezing his arm. “If I had known this is why they asked me for your address, I wouldn’t have given it to them. I figured they would show up and take you and Chris to get breakfast as a surprise, not… this. I should’ve known better.”

Eddie waves away her worries, looking at the delight on Christopher’s face surrounded by his cousins. 

“You didn’t know. Besides, they’ve only made, like, five digs at my parenting and two at my job.”

Pepa looks impressed.

“They want to have a better relationship with you, they’re just a little…bullheaded about how to do it. My brother is the most stubborn man I have ever met. You are his son. You can see where things get difficult,” she teases, pinching his side. 

“Hey!” he says. “And I thought I was your favorite.”

“You thought wrong. Christopher is my favorite.” Pepa winks and walks into the living room, already yelling something in Spanish at his dad that has Ramon throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. 

Eddie watches his cousin Alexia build legos with the kids, the cacophony of the laughter coming from all of them, watches Sophia on her phone facetime Adriana because she’s getting her doctorate up in Boston and never comes to family things anymore. He hears her fondly tease her for no longer being southern, hears Adriana’s exaggerated drawl on her responding y’all. Smiles at Abuela and his mother making polite conversation as they bring out the food, and Eddie—

He loves them. But he’s a little overwhelmed.

Because there’s also the fact that his mom coming out of the kitchen means she sees Christopher playing with the legos, and, oh, Eddie, didn’t you know that those pieces are too small? They’re a choking hazard. And, oh, Eddie, you don’t have enough silverware for all of the guests. What are you even doing? How are you even functional? You should’ve stayed nearby in Texas, at least that way we could just drive down to our house and pick up more knives.

Eddie just barely resists the urge to say maybe he would’ve had time to buy the goddamn fucking knives if his parents hadn’t just shown up at his door unannounced. 

There’s an uncomfortable itch under his skin when his dad shakes his head disapprovingly at him. He feels like a little kid again, trying to take up space in the body of an adult. Feels like his skin isn’t sitting the way it should, like someone shifted everything in his body two inches to the right.

He wishes everyone would just disappear. Just for five minutes, so he could get his thoughts in order. 

There’s a knock at the door. Eddie sighs, feeling defeated. 

“Who’s at the door, mijo?” his dad asks, frowning.

“Que? Pense que todos estaban aqui?” Pepa and his dad look eerily similar making the same confused expression, their eyebrows knitted in identical ways. 

Eddie does a quick scan of everyone in the room. Unless Adriana was secretly in an uber on her way here and not actually at a University library, no one else lives nearby. 

If it’s a solicitor someone’s gonna have to hold him back. His nerves already feel frayed, he already feels like he’s standing on a dead man’s trigger. Jaw tight, teeth clenched, twitch in his eyebrow when the person on the other side knocks again. 

When he pulls open the door, though, it’s just Buck standing on the other side. A greasy bag of take out from their favorite kebab place in one hand and a case of beers in the other. 

Eddie could kiss him. In a normal, bro way. He’s just–he’s never been so happy to see Buck—or anyone—in his life. 

This is including all of the times they’ve saved each other’s asses at work. 

Buck smiles at him, his cheeks rosy, and Eddie suddenly feels completely disarmed. He smiles back, and exhales for the first time since his parents showed up. 

“Hi,” he breathes out. Buck’s sunglasses are pushed up into his hair—his soft looking, ungelled hair—and Eddie wishes they were alone so he could pull him with a hand fisted in his t-shirt and the other running those strands and release all the stress from the past three hours. 

“Is this a bad time?” Buck asks, peeking over his shoulder at the crowd of people. He looks a little disappointed, but not because Eddie isn’t alone— Eddie can smell the cheese fries in the bag that are definitely for Christopher—he seems more disappointed at the way Eddie’s shoulders are tense. 

It makes him feel cared for. He doesn’t know what to do with that feeling. Knows it makes him want to get on his knees, though.

That feeling he knows what to do with. Even if he can’t do anything about it right this very second.

“Don’t you even think of leaving,” he warns, pulling Buck into the chaos of his home.

“Buck, good to see you again,” Pepa says as he walks in, giving him a kiss on the cheek that has Helena’s eyebrows raising up to her hairline. 

Pepa’s…picky. It’s no secret. Even Eddie’s a little surprised at the warmth, figuring she’d just say hello and go back to grabbing the pico from the kitchen. Eddie feels a little bit smug watching Carlos, Pepa’s youngest, frown as he looks back and forth between Buck and his newest girlfriend. 

Not that Buck is his boyfriend, obviously, but still. Eddie’s got better taste in people.

“Buck? Estas aqui?” Abuela asks, coming out of the kitchen with an apron around her waist and her hands dirty from cooking. She calls Buck over with a wave of her hand, kissing each cheek when he bends down. There’s a smile on her face as she pulls away. “Hola, Buck.”

“Hey, Isabel. Didn’t realize we had a full Diaz family reunion going on,” he says awkwardly. 

“Yes,” Ramon says slowly. “A Diaz family reunion.”

Buck’s face falls. Eddie absolutely will not stand for that. 

“Buck’s staying.” His tone leaves no room for arguing.

“So this man is welcome to show up to your house unannounced, but we as your parents are treated with hostility?”

“Buck isn’t some random guy, Mami. He’s my best friend, and it’s a Saturday. We always do something on Saturdays when we’re off from work.” His mother’s face does something complicated that Eddie does not have the emotional capacity to look into. “Buck, you can put that in the fridge. We’ll probably eat it later.”

Buck pouts. Zito’s has the best falafels in LA, Eddie’s convinced. He’s never been to a Greek place and ordered anything other than the lamb, but he and Buck went there after a shift, Buck insisting he had to try their falafels, and, well. He was right.

And they’re best warm. When the fried outside is still crispy, when it makes the tahini a little runny because it’s all hot and good and perfect. 

Eddie isn’t resenting his parents from keeping him away from his falafel wrap. He isn’t. Because that would be completely immature. 

“I like Buck,” Pepa announces, popping a cherry tomato in her mouth. 

(Eddie has no idea where the hell the cherry tomatoes came from.)

“Me, too.” Abuela shoots his dad a pleasant smile. She drops the large plate of tamales onto the middle of the table, clapping her hands together. “Let’s eat.”

+

Lunch is loud. Most things in a chaotic latino household tend to be, but it’s worse when his house doesn’t have room to fit everyone, and they’re all eating in his living room with their plates in their laps. 

All the kids are looking at Buck like he’s the coolest person in the world, all while Eddie’s parents stare at him from across the room like if they narrow their eyes some more Buck will disappear.

Eddie feels bad for liking how much they’re hating it. But not bad enough to do anything about the feeling. 

“So, Eddie, isn’t it hard taking care of Christopher as a firefighter? I mean, do you ever even see him?” 

The question doesn’t shock him. His mother’s good at saying exactly the right thing to make him want to crawl under the table and stay there until the house is calm and silent, until everyone has left LA and California and the United States and he can just be for a moment. Without expectations that make his shoulders slump under their weight. 

Eddie’s about to open his mouth when Buck starts talking. 

“Oh, man, you should’ve seen it the other day, actually. The three of us went to the park and Christopher built the sickest sand castle I’ve ever seen. Didn’t you, bud?” 

Christopher nods, eagerly recalling the adventure of finding cool rocks to adorn his masterpiece. Everyone’s infatuated by his story, because Eddie has the cutest son in the world, but when he looks at Buck—stealing a glance under the assumption that Buck would be too busy laughing with Chris to notice—Buck’s already looking back. 

He nods once, a tiny thing. Buck gets it. Nods back, a smile equally as small lighting up his face. 

There’s a weight to the expression on Pepa’s face when he catches her eye that Eddie doesn’t feel like examining. 

Eddie shovels a forkful of pork and beans into his mouth and avoids her gaze for the rest of the meal. Y’know, like an adult. 

Chris drags Buck to play with the kids after everyone finishes eating, telling him to tell everyone the story of when he was a cowboy. The corners of his mouth pull up without him meaning to as he watches the two of them in between taking the dirty dishes back into the kitchen. 

“Are you and Buck boyfriends?” Abuela asks as she rinses off a wooden spoon and puts it in the drying rack. 

Eddie chokes on nothing, coughing as he tries to regain his composure. 

“No, no. We’re friends, abuela. Guys can be friends.”

Abuela clicks her tongue at him like he’s being an idiot. 

“Ai, no, mijo. You are friends, claro que si, pero friends do not plan all their time around each other, and friends do not look at each other the way you look at him. It’s the look on your face, Eddito. Lo miras the way your abuelo looked at me, you know.”

“I’m straight, abuela. Buck’s just a good friend. But, hey, good to know that if Christopher ever comes out as anything he will have your support.”

He kisses her on the cheek, dashing back out to grab the last of the leftovers before she decides to say anything else about his normal, platonic relationship with his best friend.

At least she assumed Eddie was crushing on him instead of assuming they were fucking each other. He doesn’t think there’s a universe out there where he’s prepared for that kind of conversation with his abuela. 

He shudders just thinking about it. 

Buck’s playing with the kids in the living room when he finally goes over to join them. There’s an assortment of different lego structures laid out on the coffee table, but they’ve transitioned to scrabble, because it’s Eddie’s twelve year old niece’s favorite game. 

Chris is leaning against Buck, the two of them sharing a set of tiles. Emilia, his niece, seems to be winning, anyway. 

“Eddie, I think the fancy school you got Christopher in is making him too smart. He’s better than me,” Buck says, poking Chris in the side and earning bright, bubbly giggles from Eddie’s son in response. 

Buck beams at Chris. Eddie finds he does that a lot, actually. Like he can’t quite believe Chris trusts him the way he does.

Eddie gets it. Feels the same way, some days. Sometimes he worries he fucked up too much to ever be able to fully make up for it. But then, other days, mornings that are slow and full of syrup from the diner near the station—the one with the pancake stack so tall Eddie can barely see Chris behind it—and his son will smile and call him the best dad in the world and Eddie allows himself a moment of selfishness to believe it.

He thinks Buck needs to grant himself that moment, too. 

“It’s okay, Buck, that’s why we’re a team,” Chris says seriously. 

“Can I join it?”

“No,” Mateo cuts in, not even looking at him, eyes trained at his letters like he overheard them plotting his downfall. “It’s not fair if Chris gets two of you! Tío Eddie, can you be on my team?”

Eddie laughs, pressing a kiss to Christopher’s hair and dropping down beside his nephew. 

“Sure. Though I’m probably not gonna be any good.”

Emilia tosses her long hair over a shoulder. 

“Good, because I need to win.”

Unsurprisingly, she does. Beats all of them by an embarrassing amount. Buck and Chris come out second, and Eddie and Mateo in last. He feels kind of bad for the kid, but he was maybe, also, kind of rooting for Chris and Buck. 

Sue him, he has favorites. 

“Eddie–” Helena starts. She takes a deep breath, and Eddie watches as she tries to figure out her words. “Can we take Christopher with us to our hotel? We were thinking of taking him to see a movie, if—” she sighs again. “If you think he’d like that?”

Eddie stares at her for a moment. Maybe closer to two moments, even, because she’s asking for his permission. She’s trusting his opinion for his own son. He has no idea what the hell he’s meant to do with that. No idea where he’s supposed to put the pride he feels, so foreign in his chest.

He looks over his mother’s shoulder. Buck looks away like he’s been caught. 

Eddie doesn’t have to think twice about agreeing to a child free night, not when Buck’s cheeks are rosy, not when he’s the only reason Eddie even survived today. 

“That’s fine. Just don’t give him too much sugar, and trust him when he says he can do something on his own. It’s hard, sometimes, to give him that independence because he’s my kid and I want to protect him but Chris—god, he’s brilliant. He’s independent.”

“We know that, mijo,” Ramon says, wrapping an arm around Helena’s waist. “We have kids of our own, Eddie.”

It’s irritatingly condescending, the tone that laces itself around his father’s words, but Eddie tries to ignore it. The sting of don’t drag him down with you has long since faded. He looks around and knows he didn’t drag Christopher anywhere other than where they’re supposed to be.

“You can bring him back any time tomorrow. And if he starts crying about wanting to come home, you can bring him. It doesn’t matter the time, I’ll wake up if you call.”

His mom smiles pleasantly, clipped in the corners but pleasant nonetheless. Ramon looks a little like he ate something sour, face pinched like it’s taking all the effort in the world to respect Eddie’s wishes. 

Eddie appreciates it anyway. Appreciates even the roll of his fathers eyes when he thinks Eddie can’t see him anymore, because it’s a step in the right direction. He doesn’t trust them not to take Chris back to Texas with them, but he can try to give them the benefit of the doubt for one night.

Besides, Buck’s looking at him like someone who was definitely eavesdropping on the conversation and is incredibly pleased with what he overheard. 

“You want me to stay to help with the cleanup?” Buck asks. His blue eyes sparkle—which is a little ridiculous—gleaming with excitement and something Eddie’s not gonna think about with his Abuela one room over.

“You’re not gonna make Buck clean up, are you? Eddie, he’s a guest,” his mom says exasperatedly as he helps Christopher put on his shoes.

“Buck’s not a guest, abuela. He’s Buck,” Chris answers for them. 

Eddie doesn’t–he doesn’t blush, because that would be ridiculous, but he squirms a little under his mom’s scrutinizing gaze. 

“How are you ever going to meet someone if you spend all your time with your coworker, Eddie? You male coworker, at that.”

“I’m not trying to meet anyone. Shannon and I finalized the divorce just a few months ago. All I need is Christopher and the 118.” And Buck, he thinks but doesn’t add. Buck doesn’t seem to take offense to the way Eddie lumped him with the rest of their team, knocking their shoulders together. Seems to get it, actually.

His mom huffs, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie feels like he’s stepped into some weird alternate dimension where his parents only think he’s marginally a failure. 

Bizarre. 

His cousins kiss him on both cheeks on their way out, Abuela and Pepa promise to pass by again soon to drop off more food, his parents shoot him an awkward smile as they help Christopher into the car seat Eddie strapped into their car, and soon enough, the house is empty. 

Save for Buck, who is actually standing at the sink washing dishes. 

Eddie doesn’t bother trying to be smooth about it. Doesn’t even pretend he isn’t there to get his mouth on Buck’s dick. 

He turns Buck around, making sure to turn the water off because this is California and they’re always in a drought. Buck chuckles, smirking at him. 

“Do you not want to do the dishes, I just thought…”

“Forget the dishes. I want to suck your dick.”

Buck nods jerkily. “Never saying no to that.”

“Good,” Eddie says, and sinks to his knees. 

Buck pushes his pants down, but Eddie stops him from touching at the hem of his briefs. Pulls it down himself, teasingly, agonizingly slowly.

A low groan spills from Buck’s lips when Eddie starts stroking him.

He ducks his head and bites Buck’s thigh, sinking his teeth into the muscle, the pale expanse of skin; the hair is thin and so blonde he barely sees it, but it catches the light pouring in from the window. Eddie leaves a trail of bruises leading up to Buck’s hardening cock, the marks blooming quick and dark against his skin. 

It’s a good thing they don’t kiss, because seeing the way Buck bruises so nicely would get Eddie borderline addicted to marking him up.

“Thank you,” Eddie says, looking up at Buck. His dick is a familiar weight in his hands by now; Eddie makes sure to use the precome leaking from the slit to make the slide easier. Buck’s breaths are shallow already, always so damn sensitive it makes Eddie’s head spin. “For coming, for making today bearable.”

Buck snorts. “Ha. For coming.”

Eddie takes the head into his mouth, sucking on it as he swirls his tongue. Buck stops laughing pretty quickly. 

He doesn’t want to say that he enjoys sucking dick, because that would imply things that simply aren’t true, but it’s…it’s fun. He can admit that much. The weight is grounding on his tongue, the taste is surprisingly less bad than he would’ve expected, and Buck responds to every touch. 

That’s his favorite part.

Buck’s holding onto the counters with one white knuckled grip, the other settling between the strands of Eddie’s hair. He hums at the sting when Buck tightens his hold. Doesn’t fuck into him, doesn’t move Eddie’s head, just combs his fingers through his hair, keeping him close. 

“You’ve got such a good mouth, feels so good,” Buck rambles when Eddie starts sucking him off in earnest, one hand coming up off his thigh to fondle his balls. Buck hisses. Eddie pulls off and grins. “Jesus, so pretty. Sorry, sorry, that was—fuck, that was so gay—it’s just— look at you.”

“I think calling me pretty is less gay than me having your dick in my mouth, to be fair,” Eddie says cheekily as he leans in again, taking Buck as far as he can go. He pauses, taking a deep breath through his nose and tries to take in just a little more, just because he knows it’ll drive Buck crazy. 

“Fuck. Just, use your tongue, and—yeah. Like that, yeah.” Buck throws his head back, letting out a long moan. It fades into a high, throaty whimper when Eddie pulls back and focuses on the head, hollowing his cheeks as his tongue licks along the sensitive underside. 

“Hold on,” Eddie says, pulling and rising up to his knees so he can push his jeans down enough to get his cock out. He jerks himself off in time with the hand on Buck’s dick, and lets every breathy whine, every rough, low groan go straight to his leaking cock as he strokes himself, hips hitching into his fist as he comes. 

Buck follows soon after, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie spilling from his lips as he spills into Eddie’s throat. 

“I wanted to get you off,” he pouts. Eddie bites one of the bruises he left, sucking a new one right next to it. 

“Next time,” he says, voice rough, as he pulls himself up.

Buck looks at him, face flushed and grin lopsided and goofy, motioning at the pile of dishes in the sink beside him. Eddie clears his throat, suddenly feeling a little too hot for the small kitchen. 

“I was thinking we could catch up on game of thrones after, if you’re not busy.”

Eddie chuckles, rolling his eyes fondly.

“You know I’m not,” he tells him, smiling when the pink of Buck’s skin goes from over-exertion to sheepish. 

“Cool. Clean up and then dishes?” Buck asks, pulling up his pants. Eddie watches the bruises he left get hidden behind the denim.

“You don’t think I should do the dishes with come all over my hands?”

Buck’s laugh fills up his whole house. 

+

Of course Hen pieces it together. He should’ve seen it coming, honestly.

She eyes him suspiciously the second he walks into the station, an all too pointed stare behind the frame of her glasses. 

So Eddie does the mature thing: he avoids her all shift. He purposely gets mud all up his arms and across his forehead when they rescue a little girl who fell in the hole they were digging for a pool. Her and her brother thought it’d be fun to test out the pool, and created a massive puddle of mud.

Thick mud that dried on his skin under the heat of early spring sun. Thick mud that dried on his skin and took half an hour to wash off in the bathroom. 

Buck walked in at one point and winked at him in the mirror. 

Eddie flushed pink.

He’s running up the stairs two at a time. Bobby made mac and cheese, and he knows how quickly that goes. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky with this station. This family that took him in easily, Bobby’s insane cooking, Buck and his friendship (and his hands and his mouth, holy god, his mouth). 

No way station six could be better than this.

The rest of the team has—predictably—devoured the macaroni. But there’s a plate piled high with cheesy goodness and a healthy portion of chopped fruit placed in front of an empty seat by Buck. 

Eddie snorts. Buck’s eyes gleam when they land on him. He’s pretty sure the asshole would wink if they didn’t work with the nosiest people in the world. No way an interaction like that wouldn’t raise a few questions, especially with the way he can feel Hen’s eyes on the side of his face.

“Thanks,” he says, low enough to be just for Buck as he slides into his seat. They haven’t had time to do anything since Eddie sucked him off in the kitchen (and then disinfected the whole area twice), but Buck sent him a very nice video of himself jerking off in the shower, his abs wet and soapy as he came onto the tiles. 

It’s been on his mind for the past forty-eight hours. He sent a video back, and Buck responded with a string of emojis Eddie didn’t know how to decipher. They’re the same age, but Buck spends way too much time on twitter, giving him half a million references Eddie can’t even begin to understand.

“‘Course,” Buck replies easily, and digs into his own plate. 

Hen’s eyes are on him all lunch. Eddie’s impressed with the way he doesn’t cower under the intensity of the stare.

His luck runs out by the end of shift, though. Of course it does, it would eventually. They were only working a twelve, anyway, he should’ve known that Hen wouldn’t relent after only twelve hours of avoidance. If it were a forty-eight, maybe. If they’d been stuck with each other for two days, and Eddie had managed to successfully avoid her the entire time, there’s the chance Hen would simply let it drop.

It’s a small chance, but it’s smaller after only half a day of his efforts.

He’s not sure why he even bothered.

“I hope you’ve thought this through,” she says after Chimney’s left the locker room, leaving just the two of them still sifting through their lockers. Eddie’s looking for his car keys. He suspects Hen was just waiting for the coast to be clear.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So nothing’s changed between you and Buck? Because I’m pretty sure you two snuck out to the alley at that club for Josh’s birthday.”

“What are you implying? Buck and I aren’t gay.”

“So you two didn’t hook up at the bar? And then there’s the fact that you stayed over after all of us left Buck’s loft. No one else thought anything of it, I promise, but I went back because I thought I had forgotten my phone, and I overheard you two through the door.”

Eddie’s mouth goes dry.

“That–it’s–you–ugh—” he rubs a hand across his tired features, the whispers of a headache by his temples. “That’s different. We’re both straight , we’re just both single and not looking for one night stands. It’s–it’s easier like this. I don’t trust easy, and Buck wants the comfort of doing it with the same person.”

Hen stares at him. That no-bullshit, disbelieving expression on her face.

“Oh my god, you’re being serious.” Her expression softens upon seeing the panic on his. “Hey, Eddie, look at me.” 

He stares steadfastly at the ground. 

“I’m gonna tell anyone. Not Karen, not Chimney. This isn’t even my business, but Buck…you don’t know what he was like before. He was reckless— more reckless than he is now—and a little stupid, and he was lonely. I love that idiot like he’s family, because he is, and it makes me happy to see how happy he is now.”

She taps him on the chest. Eddie can’t help but turn to her. 

“That's because of you. You and Chris. You guys have given him something not even Abby gave him. A friend, a partner. Someone who sticks around, you know? And I like you, Eddie, but—”

“But I’m still the new guy, and Buck…Buck’s Buck. Hard not to…you know,” he says, aiming for casual and missing by a goddamn mile.

Eddie doesn’t know how to read the expression on her face.

“Exactly. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt.”

“Hey, guys,” Buck says. His hair is still wet from the shower, his skin is a little red from the amount of time they spent in the sun at the pool rescue. He smiles at Hen as moves past her to look in their locker. Eddie doesn’t know how or why or when they began sharing it, but he’s stopped questioning his and Buck’s “weird, mind-reading friendship,” as Chim likes to put it.

The smile he gives Eddie as he brushes their shoulders together is nothing like the one he gave Hen. It’s softer, it’s sweeter. 

Eddie’s stomach twists uncomfortably.

Buck hasn’t—Buck hasn’t caught feelings, has he? Sucking dick a few times doesn’t make you gay. Eddie doesn’t think so, at least, but maybe Buck does? But that wouldn’t make sense, because Buck said he was doing it because he liked doing it to women. Liked when women did it to him.

“There’s a library having a science day tomorrow. It starts pretty early in the morning, if you want to go with Chris since we have it off?”

The hopeful look in his eyes makes Eddie wanna bite his tongue so hard it bleeds.

“That’d be great. Chris would love that.”

Buck beams. Oh no. 

“Cool. I’ll pick you up at ten-thirty?”

Eddie swallows.

“Yeah. See you, man.”

Hen stares at him pointedly for a solid thirty seconds before walking out and leaving him alone in the locker room, staring at his reflection in the glass, and hoping to every entity out there willing to listen that Buck didn’t just ruin everything. 

+

“Buck!” Chris yells the second Eddie opens the door. It’s sweet the way Buck sweeps him off his feet, pulling him in a hug with one arm, the other still holding his jacket and keys. “Dad said we’re going to the library today.”

“Yeah, bud. They’re teaching a bunch of cool science experiments today, I thought you might like it.”

Christopher nods eagerly, “I have this friend at school, Elizabeth, and she said she knows how to make slime, but Dad won’t let me recreate it at home.”

Buck gasps. “Well, lucky for you, Dad doesn’t have control of my place.”

Eddie groans.

“No, absolutely not. Then he’ll bring the slime back, Buck, and it’ll get stuck on the couch.”

Chris looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Buck, behind him, is smirking in a way that makes Eddie wish his kid wasn’t in the same room. 

“Dad, please?”

Christopher’s entirely unaware of the way Buck’s eyes go dark as he takes Eddie in slowly, eyes trailing along his body before snapping right back up to his mouth. Eddie’s tongue darts out to lick it instinctively, and it only serves to make Buck’s smirk grow.

“Yeah, Eddie,” he says, voice pitched just low enough to send a shiver down his spine. “We’ll be good. Promise.”

Buck winks at him. 

“You’re such an asshole,” Eddie breathes out.

The smirk turns into a full grin.

Chris pokes Eddie in the stomach. 

“That’s a dollar in the zoo jar, Dad.”

Eddie ruffles Christopher’s hair, grateful for a reason to not look Buck in the eyes, thanks.

It’s weird, Hen’s words echo in the back of his mind, but it doesn’t feel like Buck’s into him. Well, okay, clearly Buck’s into him but that’s it. There are no hearts that could possibly be broken, because there are no hearts on the line. 

There’s just two friends who are, admittedly, a little codependent, but nothing beyond that.

Which is how it’ll stay.

Because otherwise? Otherwise Eddie will lose it.

The hold he has on Los Angeles, on this life, is loose and tentative. Part of him feels like it’s not his to hold onto, not really. The only thing that feels well and truly his is Buck. Their friendship that Eddie knows would exist if either one of them quit the 118 tomorrow. The one part of this city he wasn’t afraid of losing is looking up slime recipes with his son. 

But now Hen’s got him thinking that he might ruin this, too. 

He’s resenting her for it, just a little. 

“You guys wanna get going? I have coffee and bagels waiting in the car.”

Eddie smiles, but it feels shaky. 

“Yeah, we should get going,” he says, instead of voicing the million thoughts running through his head.

+

The library Buck takes them to is not the Los Angeles Central Library, but instead one a little out of their way, right next to an elementary school. There’s a big sign on the front lawn advertising a free science day for school aged children, dozens of parents being dragged through the front door by over eager kids. 

Chris is buzzing in the back seat. 

“Are we gonna do experiments?”

“You sure are, buddy,” Buck answers. 

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, we’ll find out when we go inside,” Buck answers as he parks his car.

Christopher gasps. “Are we gonna make elephant toothpaste?”

“What the he–heck is that?”

Eddie snorts. Buck sends him a look that’s supposed to be mean but just looks fond. Eddie’s gut churns uncomfortably. 

“It’s like toothpaste for elephants, Buck.”

“Yeah, Buck,” Eddie echoes, laughing when Buck scratches his eyebrow with his middle finger. 

“We’ll just have to wait and see. C’mon, I bet they’re about to start soon.” 

The library is small, a quaint little building lined with shelves and rows and rows of books. It’s nice, nicer than some of the big city libraries he’s been to. Considerably less overwhelming, and with a cute children’s section in the corner complete with bean bags and a large canopy hanging down from the ceiling. 

Eddie makes a mental note to come here more often, the little library worth the drive. 

The old lady at the front desk sees the two of them with Chris and lights up, pointing to the door leading to an outdoor section where the youth librarian is handing out plastic cups and bowls to the kids. 

Chris smiles up at the two of them, asking if he can do it by himself. Buck pouts a little, but ruffles his hair and tells him he’ll be joining in for whatever the elephant toothpaste is. 

Chris nods decisively and reaches out a pinky to link with Buck’s. 

“Deal.”

The older librarian smiles in that knowing way all old people seem to. “You three make a sweet family,” she tells them, and Eddie—

He’s not homophobic, but he feels a little bit like an asshole. It doesn’t bother him. People assume he and Buck are together pretty often—often enough that they don’t even think about it, really—but this is different. This isn’t a drunk girl at a bar asking if they’re bisexual so she can join as a third (which, ew, boundaries), this is a sweet old lady assuming they’re a family.

A committed thing. Not just a couple who’s gonna leave the bar to go fuck in the bathrooms (which, okay, admittedly they’ve done that, but not as a couple) , but a married unit who’s gonna go home and do chores together before putting their son to sleep. 

And it shouldn’t bother him. It’s never bothered him before . There was the girl at the museum who thought they were a family that one time, but it didn’t make his skin itch the way it does now. It’s never made him want to run, want to flee. Never made him feel so unsettled. 

He doesn’t want to blame Hen, either, even though it’s kind of her fault. It’s not like he and Buck haven’t acted like this since the beginning. And if they’ve acted like this since the beginning, why would that suddenly mean they’re in love now?

Unless Hen thinks they’ve been in love the whole time?

Oh, god.

Does Bobby think so, too? Is that why he was smirking at their bickering the other day with the hot air balloon call when the mom asked if they were single and they didn’t say anything? Or when Eddie walked out of the locker room in Buck’s LAFD hoodie, Buckley in bold print across his shoulders.

Chimney better not think anything, because Eddie’s seen the way he and Maddie act around each other, and if there’s anyone who’s unaware that they’re in love with someone, it’s the two of them. Because no way is it him and Buck.

He doesn’t understand why people seem to think sex has to be this big thing. It’s convenient. Plenty of people have friends with benefits relationships that mean nothing at all, suddenly it’s different because he and Buck are, what? Straight men?

That’s gotta be homophobic somewhere in there. If he thinks about it too hard, though, he’ll get a headache.

He tries not to think about it, tries to focus on Christopher’s laughter when his balloon inflates and pops, startling him into a fit of giggles. 

Buck’s got his phone out, and he flashes Eddie the screen, showing him the exact moment Chris’s balloon popped. 

“I’m glad he’s having fun. We should get burgers after this, I looked it up and there’s a spot nearby that apparently does great nacho fries—”

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie interrupts, tearing his eyes away from Christopher’s shocked little face on Buck’s phone. He makes sure to favorite the photo first, though, so he can ask Buck to send it to him later.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Buck answers, looking over at Eddie easily, clearly not sensing Eddie’s hesitance or the tight way he’s holding himself. He didn’t mean to blurt out the question, meant to figure out a way to let him down easy and bring it up gently, but his brain to mouth filter had other ideas.

“You didn’t–you didn’t catch feelings, did you?” he asks, looking everywhere but Buck. “I just, I mean…Hen mentioned something the other day, and—”

He feels Buck tense beside him.

“Eddie, hey, no, what? Hen knows?”

Eddie nods, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yes. I didn’t tell her, she figured it out on her own. I didn’t know how to lie to her, she caught me off guard.”

Buck thinks about it for a moment, and Eddie watches as he turns the words over in his head. He knows Buck won’t hate him for accidentally revealing the full extent of their relationship, but they didn’t talk about it. They haven’t really talked about anything, to be fair. 

“I know you didn’t tell her. You wouldn’t do that, but as long as she doesn’t tell anyone it’s fine, right?”

Eddie nods. A second later he realizes Buck hasn’t answered his question. He swallows dryly.

“You didn’t answer me. You didn’t, I mean–you don’t want to date me, do you? Because, Buck, man, you’re my best friend, and I like what we’re doing but I’m not—”

“Oh, no, Eddie, no. Me neither. I haven’t gone and fallen in love with you, man. You’re my best friend and we have sex sometimes, why does that have to mean anything?”

Eddie nods, taking a sip from the coffee Buck had waiting for him in the car when he picked them up. “Yeah, and blowjobs and handjobs aren’t even really the same thing. We don’t have actual sex.”

Buck shrugs, looking away. A flush spreads along his cheeks, going up to the tips of his ears. 

“We could though,” he says, not looking at Eddie. He glances at him carefully, gauging his reaction. “Have sex, I mean. I’d be into it.”

The heat that rushes through him is entirely inappropriate. 

Because, okay, yeah, he might be thinking about it a little. Might let his eyes linger on Buck’s ass when he bends over, might wrap his fist around himself and get off imagining the tight heat was Buck, but he didn’t think it was on the table.

He can admit it’s a little gay.

But Eddie’s comfortable enough with himself that he can admit that. Can admit that, really, all of this is a little gay. Objectively speaking. He can’t help but imagine Hen’s arched brow and her deadpan expression, though. Can’t help but feel like he’s missing something. Something that should be glaringly obvious, but that he’s failing to see. 

Buck knocks their shoulders together, smiling down at him; the way Eddie’s slouching against the wall gives Buck a few more inches than normal on him. 

“You’d be into that, wouldn’t you?” Buck whispers against the shell of his ear, his words hot as they fan across his skin. Eddie shivers. They’re in public, surrounded by parents, at a fucking library, but Buck’s a tease and Eddie’s easy for him. “Words, Eddie.”

“Fuck, yeah. Yes.”

“Say it.”

Eddie snorts. 

“Vampire.”

It has the intended effect of making Buck laugh loud enough that the instructor gives him a nasty look. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he tells her, raising his hands in surrender. Chris giggles behind his hands, waving over at them. 

“You’re hopeless,” Eddie mutters, shaking his head. 

Buck sends him a smile—one of the pretty ones that lights up a room, the kind that makes all six foot two of him look like the bashful, charming boy next door. It’s kind of sweet, and Eddie cannot wait to be able to wipe that smile off his face. To turn it into a slack-mouthed oh as Eddie fucks into him, as Buck tilts his head back and moans, bouncing on his cock. 

Eddie smiles back.

“Buck, it’s elephant toothpaste time,” Chris calls out a second later, motioning for Buck to come over. There are a couple parents helping out their kids, so the librarian just smiles when Buck joins them. 

Eddie does his best to keep all thoughts PG—who knows which parent can read minds—but it’s kind of difficult when Buck’s hands make the test tubes disappear. Eddie can’t help but imagine those hands in a white knuckled grip on his kitchen table as Eddie fucks him from behind. 

A mom a few feet away clears her throat awkwardly. 

Eddie, ridiculously, blushes furiously. 

“Eddie, you think we should recreate this in your kitchen? I’m already writing the instructions down. Think we can hit a few stops after lunch?” Buck asks with a shit eating grin. 

Eddie narrows his eyes, pointing menacingly at Buck. It probably comes off affectionate and teasing, but he aims for threatening. It’s the thought that counts. 

The same mom from earlier mutters under her breath, just loud enough for Eddie to hear, though he’s pretty sure it wasn’t her intention. 

“If I had a man like that, I’d do whatever he wanted.”

Eddie looks over at her without meaning to. She flushes bright red. 

Buck, when he reaches him, is smirking knowingly. 

“You should let her know you do do whatever I want,” Buck purrs in his ear. Eddie pinches his side, muttering a fond insult under his breath, and feels lighter than he has in days. 

Maybe what they’ve got is unconventional, he knows that. But it’s not just sex. They’re normal friends outside of it, too. Buck will show up on a quiet Friday night and they’ll play board games with Christopher until way past his bedtime. They hang out with the 118, bars and backyard barbecues and the occasional movie rated over PG. 

And then there are the days where they’ll spend an afternoon talking over a beer and then another one. Before, those afternoons ended with Buck making them breakfast for dinner before putting on a movie. Now, those afternoons still end with Buck making pancakes and bacon, but it’ll usually feature one of them on their knees in front of the couch as the movie plays softly in the background. 

It’s good. It’s beyond nice, it’s the kind of partnership Eddie didn’t realize he wanted. A best friend, someone to have his back, and the occasional orgasm. It’s all working out pretty great for him. There’s no need to overthink this.

Buck and Chris’s elephant toothpaste is bigger than everyone else’s. Buck swears he used the same amount of ingredients, apologizing profusely to the poor librarian, but he winks mischievously at Christopher, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile when he catches Eddie deadpan stare. 

His son is happy and he’s happy. 

That’s more than he ever expected for himself, really. More than he ever dared to let himself hope for, want, imagine. Life didn’t even deal him that shitty of a hand, so he has no real reason to complain, but looking back everything feels so dull. Muted around the edges.

He will always love Shannon. Chris wouldn’t be here without her, and he loves Christopher more than he can put into words, so because of that alone, he loves her a little bit, too. 

They were terrible together. 

He will always love his parents. Will always love his home city. Texas will always be a part of him.

But he is never moving back.

Everything feels a little brighter now. And maybe he’s a little selfish for it, but Eddie watches Christopher giggling maniacally, watches Buck add an extra drop of food coloring to make their slime neon orange, and decides he’s allowed to want this, and more than that—he’s allowed to keep it.

No matter what anyone tries to say. 

+

Very few people in the world fall into the category of People Eddie Diaz Loves. There’s his family on a good day, the 118, Buck, and Christopher. He’s not closed off and emotionally stunted, fuck you very much, Sophia, he’s just private. And he believes love is reserved for the kind of connections you don’t make everyday. 

There’s the next circle, People Eddie Diaz Cares Deeply About, and it’s a little bit bigger. Holds childhood friends, cousins he hasn’t spoken to in years, the people he served with who he loves, yeah, but not in the same way he loves the people in the first category. 

It’s a spectrum, also. Nothing too black and white, but there are groups.

There’s People Eddie Diaz Doesn’t Care About, and, finally, People Eddie Diaz Finds Actively Annoying. 

Taylor Kelly falls in the last category. 

Is it a little unfair? Yes. He’ll admit it. She didn’t actually do anything, except, for the first time in a while, a girl flirted with Buck on the scene and he flirted back. 

It’s not—they’re not dating, obviously, so he can flirt with her if he wants to, really, but Taylor Kelly doesn’t seem like the kind of person Buck could fall in love with. Eddie’s heard of her, saw the way Hen rolled her eyes when Buck smirked and said he “knew that voice”. 

Hen’s the best judge of character he knows. If she doesn’t like Taylor Kelly, why should Eddie? Just because Buck seems to think she’s pretty enough that it warrants the kind of smile that lights up his face? 

Eddie gets that smile all the time, thanks. 

They got to the scene—a helicopter that fell out of the sky, because it’s Tuesday so why not?—and Buck pulled her out while Eddie stabilized the helicopter so nobody died. The rescue went smoothly, as smoothly as it can, and Eddie was looking forward to teasing Buck about the way Taylor Kelly was holding onto him, except…

Except Buck is smirking at her, and Eddie feels hot all over. 

She’s pretty, he can admit that. Long red hair that falls over her shoulder, the kind of cocky grin Eddie knows Buck falls for, and a dimple that comes out when she smiles up at him. 

Eddie hates her.

“You don’t seem too happy about the two of them. Jealous?” 

Eddie scoffs at Hen, rolling his eyes as he leans back against a tree, watching as Buck talks to her, waiting for Bobby to call them all back to the truck so they can head back to the station. 

“Nothing to be jealous about.”

Hen hums like she doesn’t believe him. It’s unsettling. 

“Your boy charming a pretty girl isn’t anything to be jealous about?” she asks with a raise of her eyebrow. 

“Not my boy, Hen,” he tells her, a little angrier than he intends to. Not because of Hen, he’s just been on edge since he watched Buck lean into his flirty nature that has so easily gotten Eddie on his knees. Been on edge since he watched that smile be used on somebody else. 

It’s not jealousy, because Buck can do whatever he wants, it’s more…worry. That this reporter is going to cock block him. 

“No, but you’re into him,” Hen says, smiling like they’re pre-teens talking about their crushes at a sleepover. “Even if you’re not in love with him, which is fine, you’re at least attracted to him physically.”

“Sure, yeah, Buck’s hot. Everyone can see that. It doesn’t make me gay.”

Hen sighs, long-suffering, looking at him with something akin to pity. The unsettled feeling doesn’t go anywhere, sits lodged in his chest as Hen looks at him, giving him a once over like she knows something he doesn’t. 

“You get to define your sexuality. I’m not gonna be the one to tell you you need to identify a certain way if that doesn’t feel like the right label. But, Eddie? You’re having gay sex.”

Eddie flushes up to the tips of his ears. Not just because of her words, but because of the visuals it puts in his mind. He’s been thinking about it since Buck mentioned it at the library, and has watched a disturbing amount of gay porn since.

It was hot in the way all sex is hot. In an objective sense that didn't do all that much for him. Then again, regular, straight porn never did much, either. Imaging the guys on his laptop screen as him and Buck, though? 

Yeah, that had him coming all over his chest dizzyingly quickly.

There was one thing, though, that’s been on his mind since he saw it. He’s known what rimming is, obviously, but he never thought he’d want that. Not for himself, and not for anyone else. But Buck’s so responsive , so sensitive to every touch, and Eddie wants to see him fall apart just from his tongue.

So, yeah. Part of him wants to bring up rimming with Buck, the other part doesn’t know how he would un-gay the experience of having his tongue in another man’s ass.

Eddie loved eating pussy, is the thing. That was his favorite part of having sex with Shannon, he loved making her squirm while he laid a hand over her belly to keep her in place as he made her come on his tongue until she was a mess beneath him. 

He knows, logically, that eating ass and eating pussy are different things, but the guys in the videos he watched didn’t seem to be faking the moans that spilled out. Eddie had the volume at its lowest setting because he couldn’t find his stupid earbuds, but even still it was loud enough for him to pick up on the hitches in breath, on the loud moans that echoed in the porn studio. 

He knows how to use his tongue, is what he’s getting at. It might not be the same thing, but it’s closer than anything else they’ve done.

Huh. Maybe he can un-gay this after all.

Taylor Kelly says something that makes Buck laugh. It’s a little forced, like he’s trying to impress her, but Taylor—because she doesn’t know him at all—just looks unreasonably pleased with herself. 

“She doesn’t need to throw herself at him, god,” he mumbles, forgetting Hen was beside him. 

She snorts.

“Eddie, you two are so much worse.”

He ducks his head to hide the flush that spreads. They’re not that bad. Right? Yeah, they have no concept of physical space, but that was before the sex. Sure, the sex made it worse because suddenly there was a distinct lack of boundaries between them, but it’s not like they’re sneaking away for a heated makeout session in the station. 

They’ve gotten off in the showers and there was that one time Buck let his hand brush against Eddie’s thigh a little too intentionally—grinning wickedly at him when Eddie looked his way—when they were talking to each other as they cleaned the engine, but that’s not the same thing.

“Have you ever kissed a man?” he blurts out of nowhere.

Hen stares at him like she cannot believe he has the audacity to ask her that, but she nods. “Yeah. I had a boyfriend in high school. We kissed, among other things.”

Eddie exhales, nodding, and doesn’t say anything. Hen seems to figure out where his question came from before he can really put his finger on it, but she walks away before he can ask, all of them getting called by Bobby to go back to the station. 

In his periphery, he catches Taylor handing Buck’s phone back to him. 

He feels sick.

He hates it.

It’s a weird feeling, this jealousy. He can admit that that’s what it is when he doesn’t have Hen’s prying, knowing eyes staring at him. There was never any of this with Shannon. He didn’t like when other guys hit on her, because obviously he didn’t, but it wasn’t this twist in his gut. When the overly friendly cashier at the supermarket made an obvious, flirtatious remark Eddie would tell them to knock it off because he’s the boyfriend, the husband, he was supposed to.

He’s not supposed to feel anything towards Buck other than friendship.

If he ignores the feeling in his chest he can pretend that that’s all he feels.

They’re in the engine on their way back to the station. Buck’s talking to Chimney, ribbing him about his obvious crush on Maddie, and Eddie’s thinking about the question he asked Hen.

It came out of nowhere, the thought emerging fully formed in his brain and slipping out of his mouth without ever pausing for Eddie to think the words through.

But it’s not a new question. It’s one he’s been thinking ever since Hen cornered him in the locker room. Eddie’s totally comfortable in his sexuality which is why he doesn’t feel weird about having sex with his best friend. Objectively, getting on your knees and taking a guy's cock in your mouth is pretty low on the list of Most Heterosexual Things Eddie’s Ever Done.

Is that supposed to change what their relationship is? Eddie doesn’t feel any different. He gets out of bed in the morning like he always has and plays with his son like he always has and laughs with his friends and goes to work and visits his Abuela on the weekends like he’s done since he moved to LA.

Nothing’s changed. Eddie is the same person he’s always been.

A person who has a hard time trusting and who wouldn’t have a one night stand with a stranger. That’s the person he’s always been. 

Buck isn’t a means to an end because Buck is his best friend and his son’s favorite person on this planet. He’s the person Eddie trusts the most in this world. There’s no one else it could be. And goddamn does Buck look good on his knees.

He’s gonna look so good taking Eddie’s cock, too. Eddie doesn’t know how to stop thinking about it.

Hen’s foot nudges him accidentally when they break too hard at a stop sign. Eddie looks at her, taking in the sheen of sweat along the high points of her cheekbones, the teasing, open smile she gives Chimney when he says something sappy about Maddie.

This is Hen. The same Hen Eddie’s always known, and Hen had a boyfriend. Hen did all the things Eddie is doing with Buck. She’s a lesbian, and she’s secure in that. Having had straight sex doesn’t change the fact that she’s a lesbian.

The same thing can apply here. 

Probably.

He doesn’t know why it wouldn’t.

His phone buzzes, jarring him out of his far-off gaze, pulling him out of his thoughts.

The name on the screen makes him pause, reading and rereading the text to make sure he’s getting this right.

Shannon

Hey, Eddie, this is Shannon. I know you texted me when you got to LA and I haven’t responded yet. I’m sorry, I’ve just been really busy, and the thought of seeing you again well…you know. I was wondering if you wanted to meet up for coffee? I’d really love to see Chris, too, but I know we need to talk first. I just wanna see him again. Yeah. 

He’s still staring at his phone when another message comes in. 

Shannon

I want to see you, too. Not just Chris.

Buck taps his foot with the toe of his boot, face scrunched quizzically as he looks between Eddie and his phone.

He shakes his head dismissively, tuning into whatever argument Hen and Chim have found themselves.

His phone feels like it burns a hole in his pocket.

+

It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to realize what Buck’s doing.

There was Taylor Kelly, and then there was a classic cat-in-a-tree call with a pretty brunette who batted her eyelashes at Buck’s strong arms holding the kitten in them, and then there were the two handsy blondes at the bar fight gone too rowdy that Buck didn’t shrug off like normal, instead soaking in the attention. 

It wasn’t until the call to a college pool party—a girl who passed out and fell into the deep end—when a guy hit on Buck, and all Buck did was slowly drag his gaze up to where Eddie was watching him. 

The second Eddie’s eyes were on him, his posture became loose and relaxed. Easy. Eddie knows from experience all it would take to get Buck choking on his cock when he’s like that is a smirk and pointed nod down.

He’s trying to rile Eddie up. It’s–he’s being a fucking tease. On purpose. 

Eddie wants to wreck him.

He spends the drive back to the station trying to come up with ways to have Buck desperate, to have him writhing and begging, whimpering he tries to trap behind a bit bottom lip, but that ends up spilling out anyway because he can’t help it. 

Eddie’s been told he has a terrible poker face, but he’s confident Buck has no idea what he’s planning. There’s an anxious thrumming under his skin, an excited buzz that has him taking a steadying breath as he knocks his shoulder against Buck’s at their locker.

“Hey,” Buck says casually. Or, he tries for casual, but he’s got terrible aim. It comes off a little too bubbly, a little too breathless, a little too tense. Like he’s equal parts nervous and excited for Eddie’s reaction.

Good.

“You gonna call any of them?” Eddie asks, rummaging around for the keys to Buck’s jeep. He does his best to put them into the hidden zipper pocket in his duffel bag without anyone noticing. 

Buck’s staring at the side of his face, cheeks going a little pink. His mouth is open, like he’s realizing Eddie figured out exactly what game he was playing. 

“Call–call who?” Buck clears his throat. Eddie watches him swallow. 

“You know,” he says slowly, shutting their locker and leaning against the door, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. “Taylor Kelly seemed into you,” he looks up from under his lashes, pitching his voice down, like Taylor Kelly hitting on him is something for them. Not something Buck did on a call in front of everyone. “The girls at all the calls today, I know some of them slipped you their number.”

Buck’s breath hitches when Eddie leans into his space, picking at his nail like this conversation doesn’t have his heart nearly beating out of his chest. 

“Yeah. They did,” Buck breathes out. Eddie can smell the mint from his gum on his breath. 

“Hmm. I found it interesting, though, that you let a guy hit on you. Didn’t turn him down.”

“Didn’t feel necessary, you know. Never gonna see him again.”

“No? What about the girls?”

“Also no.”

“You were leading them on? Uncool, Buckley.”

Buck’s expression shifts from flustered to cocky. Eddie tries not to blush too red with how much the easy, arrogant way Buck holds himself gets to him.

“You were watching me, Diaz?”

Eddie scoffs, trying to keep his reaction in check. This is a game. Cat and mouse, a back and forth dance Eddie is comfortable with. He knows he can push every button and make Buck putty in his hands.

Buck knows how to do the exact same thing.

“Like you weren’t putting on a show,” he says, low and gravelly from arousal, wishing desperately they could get to the part of his plan where orgasms are involved.

Blue eyes glance down at his lips when his tongue darts out to lick it, but the movement is so quick Eddie isn’t sure he didn’t imagine it. 

“See you later, yeah?” Eddie says, tapping Buck’s chest and walking out of the locker room.

He goes slowly, knows he needs to take his time getting to his car. It shouldn’t take too long, and it doesn’t. He’s in the parking lot, unlocking his car when Buck calls after him, his expression scrunched in confusion, brow furrowed and creasing right above his nose. Eddie has the brief, insane thought that he’s never seen Buck’s face more lax than when he’s sucking his cock.

“I can’t find my keys, can you give me a ride home?”

Hook, line, and fucking sinker.

Eddie tosses Buck the keys to the truck, Buck catches them easily. 

“You’re driving.”

He doesn’t catch the fond eye roll, but he knows it happens, because he makes Buck drive more often than not, and Buck pretends to hate it, but Eddie knows he only says that to put up a front.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a passenger—”

“If you call me a passenger princess I’ll leave you to walk home.”

Buck’s laughter makes Roca turn and look at them quizzically. Eddie waves at him awkwardly as he goes in for his shift. 

When he turns to Buck, he finds him already looking back, keys raised in one hand and head tilted teasingly, a cocky, shit-eating expression on his stupidly pretty face. 

“Just get in the damn car,” Eddie mutters, trying not to let Buck see the way the corners of his mouth were involuntarily curling up, that knife’s edge of anticipation back in full force as he climbs into the passenger seat.

They’re silent for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company. It’s an early Friday morning, cloudy enough that he doesn’t need to slip his sunglasses on; the light that filters through the clouds is warm, and it makes Buck look like he’s glowing a little when Eddie looks over at him. 

There’s a halo of lighting behind him, the sun still low enough that when they turn out of the station parking lot, it’s right behind his head. It makes his hair look like spun gold, which is probably among the top ten gayest things his brain has ever come up with, but, admittedly, it’s true.

Not gayer than wanting to lick Buck’s hole and feel him squirm on his fingers, so he figures he’s okay.

Probably.

If he thinks about it for too long he’ll get a migraine, and Eddie’s a firefighter and a dad—he does not have time for migraines. 

His hand hovers in the space between their bodies, not quite resting on the compartment behind the gear shift. Buck doesn’t notice, too busy tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel that Eddie doesn’t recognize. Despite the fact that he doesn’t know the song, he can still tell that Buck’s a little off beat.

He drops a hand on his thigh.

Buck inhales sharply.

“What—”

“Eyes on the road,” Eddie says, voice much steadier than his heart in his chest.

He lets his fingers slide up along the seam of Buck’s pants, the touch just firm enough to make Buck fidgety in his seat. 

“Eddie,” he breathes out, a warning to anyone else, maybe. That this isn’t smart, that it’s reckless. To anyone else, the shaky exhale of his name would be every reason to stop.

But Eddie? 

Eddie knows Buck. He knows that his name on his tongue isn't an invitation to stop, but a plea to keep going.

And Eddie’s not good at denying him anything.

The fabric is a little thinner along the top of his thighs, Buck’s thighs thick enough to chafe the fabric. All it does is flood Eddie’s mind with images of those same strong legs wrapped around his waist as Eddie makes them both come. Fist around Buck, Buck around him. 

“I was watching you, you know. Watched you smile at them the way you smile at me.”

Buck swallows audibly.

“How I smile at you?”

“Like you’d get down on your knees right there, in front of everyone. And you would, wouldn’t you? You’d let anyone watch.”

“Eddie,” he whines, foot slamming on the break a little too hard at a stop sign when Eddie’s fingers ghost over his clothed cock. 

He’s going out on a limb here, a little. They should probably talk about this, but they’ve come so far having approximately half a conversation, and nothing’s blown up in their faces.

Well. Okay, some things have blown up in their faces. 

Buck seems into it, though. Buck’s breathing is a little shallow, and Eddie can time the rise and fall of his chest on the up beats of his heart like it’s the same offbeat rhythm Buck was tapping out earlier. Eddie’s getting hard in his jeans, the blood rushing south so quickly it’s making him lightheaded. 

Eddie makes quick work of unzipping Buck’s pants and pulling his half-hard cock out at the red light. 

“You’re not allowed to come until you get home. What you get for making me worry you were gonna go off and fuck some reporter.”

Buck barks out a laugh that quickly blends into a moan when Eddie spits in his hand and wraps it around him. He strokes his cock slowly, actively aware of the fact that this is LA traffic, yes, but also actively aware of how easy it is to get Buck to come. He just needs to go hard and fast and Buck’s spilling all over his hands, down his throat, on his face. 

“I’m not gonna—oh, fuck—I’m not gonna fuck Taylor Kelly.”

Eddie keeps up his agonizingly slow pace. Buck’s hard now, dripping pre-come that Eddie uses to make the slide easier. He wants to lean over and lick the bead forming at the top, wants to get his mouth around Buck’s cock, but he’s not interested in dying because he swirled his tongue the way he knows drives Buck crazy and they got into an accident.

The idea of Athena finding him passed out with Buck’s dick in his mouth is enough to have his erection flagging in his jeans. 

“Does she know that?” Eddie asks, doing his best to keep his voice neutral, acting like this doesn’t affect him in the slightest.

They get stuck in a bit of traffic. Eddie strokes Buck off a little faster, little cut off moans falling from his lips. Buck slams into the headrest so hard it’s gotta genuinely hurt when Eddie tightens his hold on him, just enough to make the slide torture.

He moans loudly, squirming in his seat. The seatbelt is chafing against his neck from how much he’s moving against it. It’s gonna leave a mark, and Eddie’s stupidly jealous that a seatbelt gets to do that when he doesn’t. And just—Buck’s a fucking sight like this ; cheeks flushed, a pink that Eddie knows spreads down his chest visible under the collar of his t-shirt, cock standing up and smearing precome against his steering wheel. 

He looks out the window. There’s a middle aged woman in a truck, watching them. The look in her eyes sends a zing up his spine. No way she doesn’t know what they’re doing, and for the first time ever, someone thinking he’s gay doesn’t make him uncomfortable. 

She watches Buck’s hips hitch up into his fist helplessly with a kind of fascination that Eddie understands, turning away and inching her truck forward when she notices she’s been caught.

But Buck doesn’t seem to realize she’s watching them. Doesn’t seem to realize she’s there at all. 

“Eddie, please. I’m not gonna last all the way home, please—”

Eddie chuckles, low and warm. Buck whines. 

“Just drive. If you get close just tell me, I’ll pull off.”

Buck nods, teeth digging into his bottom lip, turning the pink flesh white under the pressure. 

It’s a weird angle, but Eddie figures it out. Buck’s not a particularly reckless driver, but he isn’t this cautious, either. He does his best to keep his eyes open when Eddie can tell they want to roll into the back of his head, and it’s exciting. It’s dangerous and a little stupid (okay, sure, a lot stupid) but it’s a high Eddie wants to keep riding. 

He swipes his thumb over the head, coating it with Buck’s precome. Buck whines, high and needy in the back of his throat, and it’s such a rush, being able to make Buck fall apart like this, that he finds himself wishing he could kiss him. Kiss the plump swell of his bottom lip, wants to ask Buck to pull over so he can finish him off with Buck’s tongue in his mouth.

It’s probably just brought on by the fact that he’s already doing something sexual. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s thought about kissing Buck, and he only ever thinks about it when they’re in middle of sex, so, like, of course he’s thinking of kissing Buck. 

He’s never had sex without mouthing at the underside of a soft jaw, teeth tugging on a nipple, never had someone suck him off and not tasted himself on their tongue afterward.

It’s not weird. It’s not gay. It’s an automatic reaction from his brain.

Buck lets out a broken moan; he looks absolutely wrecked. 

“Eddie, shit, Eddie, you gotta stop. I wanna come and you–you gotta stop—”

He pulls off and Buck sags into his seat, cock spurting an impressive amount of precome. Eddie swipes his finger through it and sucks it into his mouth.

“Holy—oh my god, oh my god you’re so hot, wanna get you off later. Can I? Please?” Buck begs, his voice all rough and needy, his eyes all half lidded and pitch black—lust blown—when he looks at him. 

Taylor fucking Kelly doesn’t get him like this, Eddie thinks, before shaking the thought away. 

It’s not jealousy. Because Buck isn’t his boyfriend. Because he isn’t gay, but—

Taylor Kelly doesn’t get him like this, and the thought admittedly makes a very green, possessive feeling unfurl in his gut. 

Eddie plays with his balls as Buck catches his breath, fondling them in his hands. Buck’s body jerks, like he’s stuck between sinking into the touch and moving away from the stimulation. They’re driving, still, getting closer to Buck’s loft when Buck exhales, moving Eddie’s hand from where it’s trailing lightly up and down his shaft to wrapping around his cock. 

“We’ll be at mine soon.” He swallows audibly. “Make me come, please?”

He’s so lost in it he probably doesn’t even realize what he sounds like: his words are interrupted by a wrecked sound, a broken moan that gets caught in his throat, and the please— Jesus fucking Christ—is so needy, so desperate that Eddie has to palm himself through his jeans to relieve the pressure. 

Eddie keeps his movements steady as he jerks Buck off. Not too slow or too fast, but just enough that by the time they’re pulling up to Buck’s apartment, Buck’s visibly trying to keep himself from shaking. 

“Pull over.”

Buck does, parking the car haphazardly across two parking spots. 

“Eddie, this is the worst idea you’ve ever had,” he says breathlessly. 

Eddie doesn’t believe him for a second. 

“I know you flirted with all of them for a reason. Flirted with a guy right in front of me. You’re not even gay. What were you expecting?”

“Honestly?” Buck says, voice shaky. “Was kinda hoping you’d follow me home and fuck me.”

Eddie hums, trying to will his heartbeat to a normal pace. Trying to keep his whole body from showing just how much Buck’s words are getting to him. He’s painfully hard in his jeans, cock pressing up against the denim, only the thin layer of his boxer briefs separating the sensitive head from the zipper. 

It’s torture, knowing he’s not getting any relief until later.

But watching Buck try to keep from fucking into his fist as he drove, trying to maintain his composure so they didn’t crash is gonna be enough to fuel his fantasies when he gets home tonight.

That, and the promise that he’ll get to fuck Buck soon.

Yeah, that’ll fuel quite a few fantasies. 

It’s easy, then, to get Buck off. To tug his cock until he’s spilling all over Eddie’s fingers, until he’s coating Eddie’s steering wheel with his come (which, okay, kind of gross). Buck slumps in his seat, a hazy, far off look in his eyes when he looks over at Eddie. 

“That was…good. That—yeah. I feel like jelly.”

Eddie wants to linger in the afterglow. Wants to drink in the look on Buck’s face until he’s drunk and stupid on it, but he can’t. He needs to go relieve Carla and take Chris to school, and—

And they don’t do that, anyway. Eddie, for the first time, has no goddamn idea why.

Would it be weird? Probably not. They’re pretty close and pretty comfortable with each other, and it’s not–it isn’t a thing. It isn’t a big thing, either, at most it’s a very small, easy to deal with thing. Whatever it is they have going between them.

Eddie smiles at Buck when Buck’s lips tug up at the corners, but he can tell it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“I should go,” Buck says. “Thanks for the orgasm. And the drive home, I guess. Can you take me to the station tomorrow to search for my keys?”

Buck’s frowning at the thought. Eddie takes pity on him, and digs his keys out of his duffel bag. 

“Here,” he says, grabbing one of Buck’s hands and pressing his keys against his palm. 

It takes a moment for Buck to understand what’s going on, but when recognition does settle across his features, the look of delight on his face makes Eddie’s chest feel warmer than any orgasm Buck’s given him. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“You’ll let me fuck you, anyway.”

Buck’s eyes go dark and his gaze heady. Eddie tries and fails and fails and fails at not getting lost in it. 

“Yeah. Want your cock in me,” he says casually, like he’s telling Eddie he likes the henley he’s wearing. Like he’s asking Eddie to pass the salt, and not saying something that has him choking back a moan. 

“Menace,” Eddie teases. Buck smiles at him, all genuine and bubbly, all sex-loose and giddy. He’s warm all over, probably from the hard-on and the arousal in his gut, but Buck’s fucked out look isn’t helping. 

“Um—” Buck cuts himself off, eyes flickering between Eddie’s confused expression and the exposed skin of his neck. Fuck it flashes across his features, and he tugs Eddie in with one hand at the back of his neck, the other finding purchase on his waist. 

Buck moves the collar aside enough to get his mouth on Eddie’s skin. He tosses his head back, bumping it half against the headrest and half against the window from the angle he’s at. Lips trail kisses along his skin, teeth following each press with a sharp nip, tongue lathing at the sting when Buck digs in enough to hurt. 

He doesn’t leave a mark, though. Eddie can tell. He doesn’t bruise particularly easily—not like Buck, who’s constantly sporting various injuries—but he’s sure Buck could make something bright and purple bloom along his throat if he wanted to. 

Instead it’s teasing. Featherlight. He does suck enough to leave a reminder, a ghost of what could’ve been if they had more time, if Eddie could take his shirt off and let Buck sink those sharp teeth into the smooth, toned skin of his abdomen. If he could sink his teeth into Buck’s pale skin right back. 

“For later, yeah?” Buck says after he pulls away, smiling a little dopily up at Eddie. He winks at him, all mischief and cheekiness. “Send me proof?”

Eddie laughs, caught off guard.

“I will.”

“Good.” They watch each other for a moment before Buck awkwardly makes his exit, giving Eddie a two finger salute after zipping his pants back up. “Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, Buck.”

The silence in the truck when Buck slams the door shut is deafening. His heart feels like it’s two beats away from bursting out of his chest, breath fast and shallow, his skin flushed and pink when he catches his reflection in the rearview mirror. And there’s something hot and achy unfurling in the pit of his stomach that he has absolutely no idea how to deal with.

It’s not all rare that they have the whole weekend off, but it’s always nice when it aligns that way. Chris has been begging to go to the park again with some of his friends. Eddie hasn’t found the time to take him, but he wakes up later than normal on a Saturday morning with a text from Buck asking if they want to do anything that day.

Eddie answers yes without even thinking about it. Of course he wants to spend his weekend with Buck.

And there’s no doubt in his mind that Chris will feel the same. 

Eddie ruffles Christopher’s hair when he stumbles into the kitchen, bleary eyed and smiling sleepily at his son’s gap-toothed grin. 

“Sleep well?”

Chris nods around a mouthful of cereal. 

“I was thinking we could go to the park today? Buck asked if we wanted to do anything, maybe he could come along?”

Chris nods excitedly enough that Eddie worries he’s going to choke on his cheerios. 

“Yes, can we do a pic-nic? Buck can come over and we can make sandwiches.”

Eddie nods. “I’ll text him.”

Eddie:

How does pic-nic at the park sound?

Buck: 

trying to woo me, diaz?

Eddie resolutely does not blush.

Eddie:

No, but I think my kid is

Christopher lit up when I asked if he wanted you to tag along.

The three little dots of Buck’s text pop up and disappear three times before his text finally comes through. 

Buck:

i like him better anyway :)

Eddie grins, pocketing his phone and turning to Chris, who, unsurprisingly, cheers loudly upon finding out his favorite person will be accompanying them to the park. It’d be a blow to Eddie’s ego if Buck wasn’t also his favorite person. 

Aside from Christopher, obviously.

But Eddie can admit…it’s different. He loves Christopher more than he thought it was possible to love someone. Loves his son so fiercely he doesn’t know how it fits within his body, but Christopher is a kid. He’s Eddie’s kid, and he’s the best kid in the world, but he’s also eight.

Buck isn’t even six full months younger than him. And it’s been—it’s been a long time since Eddie had a best friend. The kind of person he stays up late texting, the kind of person who laughs at all of his jokes and who is so ridiculously unfunny that he leaves Eddie’s cheeks aching from how hard he smiles.

The mouth that Eddie can still feel along his neck if he focuses on it long enough is a nice bonus, yeah, but Eddie would probably love him anyway.

Would definitely love him anyway. 

Buck swings Chris up into a hug the second Eddie opens his front door. He looks nice. Objectively speaking, of course, but then again, Eddie’s pretty sure that—objectively—Buck’s never looked bad. 

Admittedly, though, the white t-shirt currently stretched over a broad back, the hem lifting when Buck picks Christopher up and twirls him around, exposing a sliver of pale skin and the trail of hair leading down is…doing things for him. Because Eddie is weak, and cannot stop thinking about fucking his best friend. 

“I was told we had to make sandwiches for the park?” Buck says, looking straight down at Christopher who grins toothily back up at him. “Well, then, Master Chef Diaz, lead the way.”

It’s so dorky. Eddie watches the two of them walk off into the kitchen with the same pleasant warmth pooling in his chest. Like he’s got a cat curled right over his heart beat, and the purrs are vibrating softly within the shell of his ribcage. A warmth he isn’t used to but that’s welcome to stay. 

He can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have a friend like this. 

One who so easily entered their lives, who so easily became an adult Chris could count on. Eddie has debated—on more than one occasion—adding Buck to the approved adult pick up list to get Chris from school. Not that it would even make much of a difference, not when he and Buck work the same shifts, but just to show him. To make Buck and all his abandonment issues understand that Eddie’s here, and that he’ll stay. So fucking help him god, he will stay. 

He walks into the kitchen to find Buck and Chris meticulously putting slices of mozzarella on crust-less bread. Leaning against the door frame, he watches Buck make sure to go slowly so he can match Christopher’s pace, patiently watching as Chris struggles to separate the slices of cheese. 

“Can I help, superman?”

Christopher’s tongue is sticking out from between his teeth, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

“I got it,” he says, bringing the cheese right up to his face so he can pull a slice off. Eddie watches Buck watch him with a sense of pride. Feels like he’s doing right by his son by bringing Buck into their lives, and, not for the first time, feels endlessly glad he didn’t listen to his parents.

When Christopher finishes assembling his sandwich, he turns to Buck with a big smile on his face, wide enough to make his eyes squeeze shut. 

A glob of mayo falls on the countertop, but Eddie’s too proud of his son to care.

Buck ruffles his hair, effectively getting mustard on his forehead; Christopher’s resounding laugh fills the whole house. 

When Buck finally looks over at him, his eyes drag over Eddie’s body slowly. It makes heat coil in the pit of his stomach, the slow, lazy way he lets gaze trail over Eddie’s body, and if Eddie flexes his arms a little where they’re crossed over his chest because he knew it would make Buck’s eyes go wide and hungry, that’s between him and his reflection in the microwave.

“You ready to go?” Buck asks, voice raspier than he intends for it to be, if the way he flushes and clears his throat is any indication. 

“‘Course.”

“You ready, too, bud?” Buck asks, voice much lighter and bouncier as he talks to Chris.

Christopher gives him a thumbs up. Buck gives him a thumbs back, and knocks their knuckles together. Eddie feels weirdly tingly, like someone’s put a beehive where his lungs are supposed to be. It feels like maybe he should try breathing exercises, because he’s heard you can feel like this during a panic attack, but Eddie Diaz doesn’t panic, so he’s not sure what in the fresh fuck is going on right now. 

He clears his throat, shaking his head to force the thoughts away, and follows Buck and Chris into the car when they walk out of the kitchen. 

The drive to the park is easy, a route they take so often Eddie’s pretty sure either one of them could do it blindfolded at this point. 

There’s a tree at the edge of the park that they always favor. It’s far enough away from the playground that it’s almost always free, but it’s close enough that Eddie can see Christopher when he ventures over to the playground by himself.

He wishes he could just watch Chris have fun for an afternoon, laying back against the tree, feeling the rough bark on his back, but no.

Instead, Eddie is hyper aware of the thirty year old, blonde, probably-single mom who has been staring at him and attempting to seductively eat a bag of baked lays potato chips for the past forty five minutes they’ve been at the park. 

It’s not a particularly big bag of chips, she’s just going really, really slowly.

The attention isn’t something he’s ever been a fan of. He’s turned down countless women on calls, even before he and Buck started their friends with benefits situation. None of them ever interested him, none of them ever made want crawl up his spine the way it tends to when Buck flutters his lashes all pretty when he does something well on the job. Waiting for Eddie to tell him how good he is.

The thought alone is enough to have his cheeks flushing.

He doesn’t realize he’s still staring at the woman—cheeks now pink and mouth curved in a small, fond, vaguely smug smile—until she takes all of that to mean he’s interested.

She starts walking over.

Curse Buck for being the world’s best best friend, who is currently pushing Christopher in the accessible swing on the other side of the park, leaving Eddie defenseless and alone.

“Hi,” creepy blonde lady says. He’s sure her goal is sultry, but it kind of comes off like her sinuses are blocked and she’s horribly congested. 

“Hello,” Eddie says back, clipped and tight. He scooches away from her when she sits down on the grass beside him. 

She scooches closer.

Fuck his life.

“Your wife around?”

Eddie swallows thickly. He swears people haven’t always been this bold. It’s probably social media making people think it’s appropriate to speak to people this way, because Eddie remembers ten years ago when flirting in public meant sly grins and a drink sent your way.

Not that he ever did that, not with Shannon, but he watched his friends do it, and it was never… this.

“No, she’s not in the picture,” he tells her. 

Creepy blonde puffs her chest out, readjusting her shirt so it shows more of her cleavage. 

Jesus, in a park?

There are children around. 

Creepy blonde doesn’t care, putting her hand on his thigh. 

Buck looks over at him, brow furrowed in confusion. He’s irritatingly pretty, Eddie notes, maybe the prettiest person Eddie’s ever seen. It’s not a word usually used to describe men, but he thinks it works for Buck. 

His pale skin, a soft pink along his cheeks. His smile when he looks at Chris, taking over half his face and infinitely brighter than the mid-afternoon sun. His shirt is sticking to his back a little from the sweat, clinging to his muscles in a way that makes Eddie’s mouth dry, the urge to pull him back to the car and lick up his spine almost overwhelming. 

The girl squeezes his thigh. 

Eddie feels nothing. 

A lightbulb flashes above his head. 

“My boyfriend is, though,” Eddie blurts, nodding over to where Buck is laughing as something Chris said, probably. Eddie’s never met someone so genuine, because he can tell, even from here, that Buck isn’t faking his laughter for a second. Always happy to be with Chris, always laughing at his son’s (frankly hilarious) jokes. “He’s over there with my son, Chris.”

Creepy blonde pulls her hand away like she’s been burned. 

“Oh. I didn’t think you’d be gay.”

Eddie has to bite back the I’m not that’s on the tip of his tongue.

“Not really one of those things you can tell just by looking at someone,” he says instead.

She smiles tightly, awkward and uncomfortable, and Eddie would feel bad except the proximity of her hand to his crotch was bordering on sexual harassment, and, besides—

Whose seductive food of choice is potato chips?

Buck appears at his side seconds later, Chris perched on his hip and seemingly oblivious to the tension between Eddie and this random woman. He pokes Buck in the chest and points over at some kids he recognizes from his school. Buck puts him down easily, making sure to adjust Christopher’s crutches so his grip is stable. 

Eddie needs to fuck him. Desperately. 

Which, yeah, maybe he’s not actually gay, but he can admit he has some relatively gay thoughts about Buck relatively often. 

It’s hard not to. Yeah, Chimney won for the hot firefighter calendar, but Eddie still thinks it should’ve been Buck. Except he’d hope Buck would get January, because it feels wrong to only get thirty days of Buck when he could get thirty one. 

Though, honestly, Eddie’s pretty sure that if he asked, Buck would send him enough photos to last the entire year. And an extra one to account for the leap year, too.

“Hey,” Buck says, not looking at the woman. He looks confused, though, so Eddie can tell he’s picked up on something. 

(Privately, he kind of hopes Buck feels the same green, possessive tide licking at the back of his heels that Eddie felt watching him with Taylor Kelly. That feels a little too gay to admit out loud, though.)

“Hey. Um—” he turns to the woman, who is watching them with a gaze a little too interested for Eddie’s liking. If she asks to be a third, he’s calling Athena. “I didn’t get your name, sorry. But this is Buck, he’s my—”

He cuts himself off, not knowing how Buck will react, but Buck just taps his foot against Eddie’s and reaches over to shake her hand. 

“I’m his boyfriend, nice to meet you.”

His hand lands in Eddie’s hair after he pulls away from her grip, running through Eddie’s slightly sweaty strands. It feels so nice his eyes flutter shut. Buck chuckles above him, deep and earthy; Eddie doesn’t even open his eyes to flip him off. 

“Yeah, sure. You treat me like that and see if I’ll do the dishes when we get home. You know how many knives Christopher goes through while making sandwiches? I’m gonna make you deal with all of those myself.”

His fingers keep brushing through his hair. Eddie feels Buck step around them, until he’s standing behind Eddie and pulling him so he can lean on his legs. 

“Mm, not true. You’ll do the dishes anyway.”

“Yeah? What’s in it for me?”

Eddie opens his eyes, looking up at Buck only to find him looking down at him fondly. His cheeks are still as pink as they were before, but it’s from the sun anymore. All because of Eddie. The bees are back, making his chest feel like it’s on fire. It would be really inconvenient if he became insecure of his sexuality now. A gay crisis is the last thing he needs, especially when the promise of fucking Buck is so close he can practically taste it.

He can freak out about the gayness later. He needs to make Buck come on his cock at least once before he dies. 

“You know what’s in it for you,” Eddie murmurs, just loud enough for Buck to hear. 

Predictably, his cheeks get pinker. Eddie wants to mouth at his neck, wants to taste the salt of his sweat there, wants to watch his flush get deeper as Buck throws his head back—loose and giddy as he ruts up in search of some friction on his cock.

Eddie would give it to him, because he likes teasing Buck, sure, but he likes how he looks when he comes even better. The perfect oh of his mouth , the furrow in his brow, the way his whole body tenses right before he comes entirely undone.

It’s hot. It’s—yeah. Eddie wants to feel that on his dick. 

Creepy blonde—who Eddie completely forgot was sitting beside him—clears her throat. 

“I’m gonna–I think my friend is calling me, so.”

Buck takes her place after she runs away to the opposite side of the park, maneuvering them so Eddie’s back is against his chest, and Buck’s back is resting against the large tree at the edge of their picnic blanket.

Eddie hums, content to lie here, feeling the steady beats of Buck’s heart behind him, the way the quiet pitter-patter of it against his back feels akin to rain on a roof. A reassuring drumming that has Eddie relaxing against him. 

“You weren’t interested in her?”

Eddie snorts. 

“Who, the woman who came up to me and asked if my wife was around before even offering her name? No, I don't want her. I’ve got my hot firefighter boyfriend, anyway.”

Buck chuckles, a warm, solid rumble that Eddie feels like it’s settling in his own chest.

“Though you weren’t gay. Having a boyfriend is a pretty gay thing to have, Diaz.”

“Whatever. At least I’m not taking it.”

Buck considers it, quiet for a long moment. His hand draws idle patterns along Eddie’s skin, going from his arms to his chest, dipping under the hem of his shirt to let calloused fingers trace slow circles on his bare stomach.

“I think you’d like it, honestly. It’s–it’s a lot, but it’s good. The first time a girl said she wanted to peg me, I thought she was insane, and that there’s no way I’d want to do it. But she was really into it, so I thought okay, sure and, like.” He exhales. Eddie feels his breath right against the shell of his ear. “It’s hard to explain, I guess. What it’s like to feel that full. But it’s nice.”

It’s cute how shy Buck gets about it, voice trailing off towards the end like he can’t believe he just admitted to liking getting fucked out loud. Like Eddie hasn’t been thinking of eating him out for days. 

Fuck, weeks at this point. 

“You’ve got nice legs, too. Could probably ride me well,” Buck murmurs, almost absentmindedly. “You know how to ride, Texas?”

Eddie shoves him, sitting up. He misses the warmth almost immediately, but the second that thought settles—the fact that he wants to be close—he scoots even further away. It’s a barely there shift, he practically doesn’t move from his spot, and, to Buck, it must look like he’s just readjusting himself on the soft grass. 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie shoots back. Buck’s teasing grin makes his blue eyes shimmer. 

“Oh, hey, do you and Chris want to spend the night at mine today? I was just thinking we could go to our diner for breakfast, and it’s not even ten minutes from my place, y’know. We haven’t been there in a while.”

And, well.

He doesn’t have a single good reason to say no.

“Sure. But Chris and I are taking your bed. I know you bought a pull out couch, but I’m too old and my back would kill me if I slept on it.”

Buck rolls his eyes.

“You’re six months older than me.”

“Okay…?”

Buck huffs. 

“You can take my bed.”

Eddie just tears open a bag of cool ranch doritos and proceeds to eat them very smugly. Buck bugs him into tossing the chips into his open mouth, despite Eddie’s insistence that that is a very bad idea and could end up cutting up his throat. 

He gives in, though, when Buck pulls out a bucket of cheeto puffs that Eddie doesn’t know how he snuck past him. 

It’s the most fun he’s had in ages. He feels like he’s on fire the whole time.

+

They’re not even a third of the way through the 2002 live action Scooby Doo when Christopher’s head lolls onto his shoulder and Buck picks him up and takes him upstairs. They’re not even halfway through the 2002 live action Scooby Doo when Buck leans over and starts sucking right along his pulse point, palming him through the sweat pants he changed into when they got to Buck’s loft after the park. 

“Buck,” he tries to hiss. It comes out like a breathy sigh, and the sound is genuinely kind of pathetic, if he’s being entirely honest; the way it catches in his throat is a little too whiny to be threatening. 

“Eddie,” Buck mumbles against his skin. The angle is a bit awkward, but it’s working nonetheless, and it doesn’t take long before Eddie’s cock starts filling in his pants. 

“My son is upstairs,” he protests weakly, hips rolling up to meet Buck’s hand.

“He’s asleep,” he says, dropping a kiss to his neck. “And I haven’t gotten my hands on you in so long.”

Eddie doesn’t really think, just manhandles Buck (and definitely takes note of the way his eyes go dark when he does so) until he’s straddling Eddie, hand still trapped between their bodies. He wraps his fingers around Buck’s wrist and slowly pulls his arm away.

And then. Doesn’t. Move.

Because what the fuck is supposed to do now? Where does he go from here? Buck grinds down experimentally and Eddie’s forced to choke back a moan, to bite his lip to keep quiet, and it’s weird that this is working for him, because there’s a dick dragging against his. It’s not Buck’s hand or his mouth, Eddie’s hard and aching and all he wants is to rut up and seek out the friction created by their cocks rubbing together. 

So he does. He tentatively rolls his hips up, hands on Buck’s hip as he holds him steady so he can grind up against him. 

Buck whimpers. Eddie’s tenting his sweatpants obscenely. 

And it’s—okay, yeah. This is pretty gay, probably. He doesn’t think many straight guys would do this, but Eddie’s not like that. Eddie and Buck aren’t like that, because it’s different with them. They’re friends. It’s—

Eddie doesn’t feel for Buck what he felt for Shannon, basically. He knows this, feels the difference between how he looked at her and how he looks at Buck, and he loved Shannon. Loves Shannon, really—she gave him Christopher, of course he loves her—and what he felt for her is entirely unlike anything he’s ever felt for anyone else. 

He’s pretty sure he’ll love a part of her forever, if only because he sees so much of her in Chris.

With Shannon, he’d be awkward and a little nervous and all he wanted to do was spend time with her. She was smart and beautiful and made him laugh. It wasn’t long before Christopher entered the picture, and then things went south pretty quickly after that, but there was a time where Eddie looked at her and wanted to kiss her.

He looks at Buck and it’s physical. His chest feels heavy and his palms get sweaty and there’s this weird sense of dizziness that comes with having good sex, but that’s just his body reacting to the fact that he and Buck have sex. It never reacted this way before Eddie knew how the weight of Buck’s cock felt in the palm of his hand. More straight men would enjoy gay sex if they were less homophobic, Eddie’s sure of it.

There’s a word for it, he’s pretty sure. Internalized homophobia, he thinks. Hen’s used it before. 

Not that those semantics matter, not when Buck starts grinding down to meet Eddie’s hips when they roll up, not when he’s swallowing down punched out little nghs that make Eddie’s cock leak in his pants, not when this feels so much better than grinding against a girl.

It’s just because girls don’t have dicks. At least not the ones Eddie’s been with, so it’s not as fun for them as it is for Eddie, and he always felt bad. Bad enough that he could never get fully hard when they tried to meet the roll of his hips with a roll of their own, but it was clear they weren’t fully in it.

And sex is no fun if your partner isn’t squirming on your lap the way Buck is doing now. 

“Eddie,” he whispers, so quiet, yet it feels like it echoes deafeningly in the stillness of the loft.

“Fuck, why haven’t we done this before?”

Buck doesn’t say anything, just drops his head to the slope where Eddie’s neck dips into his shoulder and bites. Eddie’s hips hitch up on their own accord, desperately seeking out more friction. It’s just barely not enough, right there on the edge where he feels like he could do this for hours, but knows it would make him lose his mind if he did. 

He’s heavy in his lap. It’s different from any girl he’s ever been with. Grounding and steady. 

Eddie feels like he’s floating every time their cocks brush against each other just right. It’s messy, a little frantic, and he’s gonna need to borrow one of Buck’s pants later, but it feels so good that he doesn’t care. 

Buck’s licking up the side of his neck, nipping right underneath his jaw. Eddie tilts his head up, grants him more access, and Buck hums, a pleased, possessive sound that threads itself through Eddie’s bones and makes something warm spread through him. 

They get a little hasty with their movements, a little lost in each other, Eddie pulling Buck from where he’s sucking a mark into his neck so he can reciprocate. 

Buck whines. Weight sinking onto Eddie’s lap, all six feet of muscle turned to putty from the way Eddie’s teeth are gently digging into the flesh. 

The loft is dark, just the light from Scooby Doo illuminating the two of them, but he can make out the flush on Buck’s skin, can make out the hooded darkness of his eyes, and it has him desperate to come. 

“Next time—“ Buck gasps, rolling down onto his lap. “I’m straddling you like this—“ Buck leans in, taking Eddie’s earlobe between his lips. The sharp edge of his canine tugs, making Eddie’s breath come out shaky when it punches out of his lungs. “I’m gonna be riding you. And you’re gonna fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Eddie comes, unsurprisingly. Shaking on the comedown, hand coming so he can jerk Buck off through his sweats. It’s not long before Buck’s shaking above him, too. The mouth that was idling kissing along Eddie’s skin goes slack as he throws his head back, biting his lip to quiet the moan. 

“We just came in our pants,” Buck says after a beat.

Eddie barks out a laugh that has Buck’s hand immediately coming up to slap over his mouth. 

“Chris is sleeping,” but he’s laughing too, breathless with it as he giggles. There’s a bubble between them, Buck’s laugh exists to reach his ears, to make him laugh in return. 

And Eddie’s pretty sure he exists in this moment to experience this.

“We can’t let anyone know.”

Buck snorts. 

“Can let anyone know we have gay sex with each other despite both of us being straight, or can’t let anyone know we came after a few minutes of heated grinding like teenagers?”

Eddie grins, feeling a little loopy. 

“Both?”

Buck’s eyes flicker down to where Eddie’s mouth is spit slick and bitten red from how much his teeth kept digging into it in an effort to keep quiet. 

Eddie’s heart starts hammering. 

There’s the unspoken rule that they won’t kiss. That rule feels awfully blurred, though, when Buck is kissing everywhere but his mouth. It’s just—it’s sexual like that. Primal. Just a human need to touch, to be close. Lips slowly dragging, little pecks as they come down from their high is too much. That’s tender, and what they haven’t isn’t tender. 

But Eddie can tell Buck’s thinking about it. 

(Eddie’s thinking about it, too.)

So he ducks away and rolls Buck off him, and tries and fails to swallow around the tension in the room sitting on his chest. 

Scooby Doo is still playing on the TV, and Eddie feels like yelling at it, a little, for not being able to read the room. 

He knows Buck’s got less inhibitions about sex. Buck’s had shit up his ass, Buck’s had more sex than Eddie can even imagine—not in a negative way, he’s not judging Buck, but, if he’s being honest, Eddie’s got no idea how to wrap his mind around the number of people Buck’s had sex with. 

So he’ll kiss a stranger at a bar. It doesn’t matter to him. 

It matters to Eddie.

He’s kissed three people.

Ella Jane in middle school, whose hand was clammy in his when she kissed him at the eighth grade formal. Melissa freshman year of high school, who kissed him at his first shitty high school party over a game of spin the bottle. Shannon, who kissed him for the first time outside of her house after a football game, wearing Eddie’s letterman around her shoulders. 

He liked kissing them. He knows he did, because he didn’t feel any of this need to throw up at just the thought.

He’ll give Hen an edible arrangement for his homophobia later. 

Daphne is kicking some bad guys ass on the screen. It’s impossible to focus on it, though, not when he’s hyper aware of Buck’s body, ramrod still, beside him.

“We could put on something more adult, if you want?” Buck asks as the credits roll. Eddie smiles at him and steals the remote from his hands, searching up Brooklyn Nine-Nine, looking over at Buck with a raised eyebrow. 

“Sounds good?”

Buck nods. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to catch up on the latest season, anyway.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve been meaning to.”

Buck smiles and gets up off the couch, grimacing as he adjusts his pants. “I’m gonna grab myself sweats first. You need a pair?”

Eddie gestures to his crotch, the wet patch right above the head of his cock. 

“Obviously.”

Buck grins, lazy and little fucked out, the tense lines of his features smoothing out as he chuckles. 

“That was good, right? We should do it again.”

“Mm, next time we have time to get each other off, I’m gonna fuck you.” Heat blooms across his cheeks and he ducks his head as his mind flashes images of Eddie’s tongue in Buck’s ass, all the porn videos he watched where the guys seemed so fucked out just because someone was licking their asshole. “Actually, um—”

He pauses. Buck’s right at the edge of the stairs, looking over his shoulder with a curious expression. 

“How do you feel about rimming?”

Buck trips on nothing, scrambling in place to try to get himself upright. His expression is so flustered it’s endearing, and Eddie is suddenly very aware of the fact that he could definitely get hard again.

“Are you–you mean–like– Eddie?”

Eddie shrugs, trying for nonchalant but feeling more like a nervous, awkward mess. “It’s probably like eating pussy, right? I mean, if you’re not into it—”

“I am. Just wasn’t expecting it. I kind of want to do it to you, though? If that’s okay. I’ve been thinking about it, and just—Eddie, you’ve got a nice ass, man. And don’t call me gay for that, because I’m pretty sure you gave me a hickey.”

Eddie tosses a pillow in his general direction. It lands on the floor. 

“Go get us pants, Buckley.”

He watches Buck nearly fall flat on his face in his haste to get up the stairs and grins. 

+

Chim and Maddie are irritatingly cute and irritatingly good at karaoke.

Eddie may be sipping his beer a little resentfully as he watches the two of them absolutely smash yet another duet. And they’re not even together. He gets why it’s been driving Buck crazy, all his complaints about buffriday’s that inevitably end with him bringing a leftover bag of takeout to Eddie’s so he can complain about being single. 

The complaints have died down lately, which Eddie is privately grateful for. Losing what he has with Buck would be terrible. Inevitable, because he knows he can’t just have platonic gay sex with his best friend until they die, but the thought of it has him pouting as he steals a fry off Buck’s plate.

They’re at a new karaoke place, more of a proper restaurant than just a bar. Maddie and Chimney found it through Maddie’s dispatch coworkers, and managed to find a free night to drag everyone else out with them.

Karen’s here, too, which is nice. She doesn’t make it out with the team very often, but she’s a welcome addition, in his opinion. Even Athena came in with Bobby to say hello to everyone, but left because May had a choir recital she had to get to.

Chris and Denny are currently having a sleepover at the Wilson’s, Hen’s mom offering to take care of them both so everyone could go out for once. She may have insinuated that Eddie should try and get some after he mentioned he wasn’t married anymore, which was deeply, deeply strange.

“I don’t get why they don’t just date. I mean, they’re doing everything except actually dating,” Buck complains, watching his sister with a frown. “Not that–not that I want to know about Maddie and Chimney doing anything, Jesus, but Maddie deserves to be happy.”

Hen hums.

“She could do a whole lot worse than Chimney.”

“She has,” Buck tells her, eyes going murderous the way they always do when he talks about Maddie’s ex. Eddie gets it, he has sisters. If anyone ever laid a finger on Adriana or Sophia, Eddie would end up on the news. 

“I just feel like if you were already doing everything a couple does, why not call yourself a couple? What’s stopping you from dating them at that point? Feels…I don’t know, silly, I guess, to hold back.”

“Well,” Bobby says, drumming his fingers against his waters. “It’s scary, taking that step. Walking into it with someone. You can’t tell me you’ve never been anxious that you’ll ruin a solid relationship. But sometimes that fear keeps us from having something else, something real.”

The look in Bobby’s eyes feels a little too pointed, the bar lights a little too bright, the loose dip of his collar a little too tight, choking him. 

Does he think he and Buck have ruined their relationship? That can’t possibly be true, they’ve never worked better as a team. Entirely in tune to one another now in a way that they weren’t even close to being before. Not just because of the sex, but because the amount of time they spend together has strengthened their friendship in a way Eddie’s never experienced with anyone before. 

“I guess I’ve never really felt that. I’ve always been sure that the people I was sleeping with wanted to sleep with me.” Buck knocks their knees under the table, and Eddie hides his grin behind the rim of his glass. 

“What about Abby?” Hen asks. “You weren’t anxious to ruin things with her?”

Buck shifts a little beside him. 

“No, I guess. I knew what she wanted, and that she was attracted to me. I mean, she asked me out, and I had to be the one to turn her down. I didn’t want our relationship to be just sex, you know?”

“So you were anxious, just not in the sense that you would ruin a friendship. You were anxious that you’d ruin a potential relationship. Not exactly the same situation, but the sentiment is still there,” Karen says, leaning back against her chair where Hen’s arm is resting, her hand hanging loose over Karen’s shoulder. 

Eddie feels a pang in his chest watching them, sort of wishing he could have that. 

Lately he’s been thinking maybe it’d be nice if he was gay. Because then at least he and Buck could make their relationship a real one. That’d be nice. It’d be easier than it was with Shannon, no doubt, because he and Buck already work so well. Because Buck’s his best friend.

That’s–there are best friends and there are girlfriends. In Eddie’s case, they’ve never overlapped. He doesn’t know why that would change now.

“I guess. Never thought about it that way.”

“Has she reached out at all since the last time you spoke?” Hen questions. 

Buck shifts some more. Always closer to him, never pulling away, his leg pressing more insistently against Eddie’s own. 

“Uh, no. She hasn’t. I’m not waiting for her anymore, though. I’ve got you guys, Maddie’s back…what more could I need, you know?”

Karen considers this. Bobby nods. Hen points her drink at him.

“Sex.”

Buck nearly chokes on his beer, right as Maddie and Chim rejoin them. 

“Why is Buck dying?” Chim asks, grabbing a mayo covered leaf of lettuce that fell out of Hen’s burger and munching on it. 

“Hen suggested he need sex to be satisfied,” Karen answers.

The way Maddie’s nose scrunches is an exact mirror of Buck’s expression. 

“Well, I’m doing fine, thanks for your concern.”

Hen smirks. Doesn’t say anything, but her knowing expression makes Eddie fidget uncomfortably in his seat, anyway. 

“I didn’t realize you were seeing someone,” Chimney says with a curious expression, taking a seat beside Maddie in the booth (very closely pressed together for a pair for platonic friends, if you ask Eddie, but, then again, Buck’s right up against him. Hip to thigh to knee, so maybe it’s not that weird).

Buck clears his throat uncomfortably. 

“I’m not. I just–there are…other ways. To be doing fine.”

Eddie snorts. Everyone else groans. But he figures they’d probably like the real reason—he and Buck don’t know how to keep their hands off each other—even less. 

A warm hand lands on his knee and squeezes once when the conversation shifts and everyone stops paying attention to them. Buck’s looking up at him from under his lashes, the kind of smirk on his face that leaves Eddie beyond weak for him. 

He’s not drunk, just pleasantly tipsy. More sober than he was when he and Buck hooked up the first time, but he kind of hopes they’re gonna leave this bar together all the same. Eddie’s got no kid to go home to, Buck’s loft is empty, and he knows there’s a bottle of lube in Buck’s bedside drawer, because Buck sent him a picture of it the other day.

A photo of lube shouldn’t do anything for him, but he couldn’t help but imagine all the possibilities that came with that bottle of lube—he hasn’t exactly stopped watching gay porn, and he thinks he might try to get Buck off with just his fingers and his mouth next time they have a free afternoon. 

So it did something. Eddie was working an extra shift after Jones from B-shift decided to cash in the favor Eddie owed him, and he had to splash his face with cold water in the bathroom so he could be sane on the next call. 

There are eyes on him. Hen’s eyes, specifically, and he can feel them boring into the side of his face as he stares at Buck.

Part of him wants to know what he looks like, the other part is afraid of the answer.

But she doesn’t say anything. There’s a tightness, a wound up ball of anxiety in his chest at what would happen if his team knew, even if he’s starting to suspect it’s not just Hen that’s been clued in. 

Bobby’s already looking back when Eddie chances at glance at him. His smile isn’t knowing like Hen’s—hers is insistent and a little cautious—Bobby’s is just playful. 

Eddie has a weird feeling that he wouldn’t be in the least bit surprised if he and Buck told him what they were doing. 

It should probably make him panic. One of his best friends knowing is one thing, especially since he knows Hen would never say anything, not about this. But his captain? Yeah, Bobby is his friend, too, but he’s also someone he looks up to and his boss. Eddie does not need his boss knowing he has gay sex, thank you very much.

It doesn’t seem like Bobby cares, though. Not when his eyes sparkle with mischief in a way that feels so familiar—he’s seen the same look in Buck’s eyes more times than he can count—and he nods. Almost imperceptible, but he nods. 

The topic shifts again to Maddie at dispatch and how she’s doing, and then everyone’s back to trading call stories, and no one seems to be paying him and Buck any mind. 

“You look really good tonight,” Buck whispers in his ear, his breath hot as it ghosts across his skin. “I get to take it all off later, yeah?”

Eddie turns to him, grin already on his face. 

“Of course. I’ve been doing my research you know,” he says, voice pitched so low he’s pretty sure the only reason Buck understands him is because he’s reading the words off his lips. 

“Your research?” Buck says playfully. And it’s fun, this…flirting, for lack of a better word. Their friends are laughing as Maddie tells them about a grown man who called 911 because he couldn’t find his phone, and Buck’s hand is warm and solid on his thigh, his smile private and playful and wild. 

Eddie wants to kiss him so bad. 

Being tipsy makes him a little stupid, though, and it’s not like the want to do it is ever present outside of these charged moments, so it’s probably nothing he needs to deal with. 

(And even if it was something he should think about, Eddie is simply, absolutely not going to.)

“Mm-hm. My research. Which mainly consisted of me watching a disturbing amount of gay porn.”

Buck barks out a laugh, then. Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get over being able to get all the reactions he gets out of Buck. It’s—he’s so expressive. Carefree with his emotions in ways Eddie is jealous of. Buck’s reckless and loud and impossible to contain, but he’s also quiet as he grinds their cocks together, and he whimpers as he comes in a way that shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is. 

Only Eddie gets to see him like that. He’s very actively, smugly aware of this fact. 

Bobby and Hen are watching them, and he knows it, but he could not care less. Not when Buck is bright and laughing and all of that is directed right at him. 

Eddie must’ve done something seriously right in a past life. To deserve everything he’s stumbled upon in LA, but, mainly, to deserve everything he’s stumbled upon in his friendship with Buck.

“Gay porn is so weird. Somehow it doesn’t feel that weird when we do it,” he muses.

Buck chuckles. “Isn’t sex always less weird in real life? More natural, more fluid…I don’t know, porn feels so staged.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t say anything, because he isn’t sure that’s true for him. Probably because he and Shannon weren’t very experienced, but sex was always a little weird between them. A little robotic. They were just going through the motions, and it was good and he liked it, but it wasn’t lacking in the awkwardness department. 

He thinks idly of the text she sent him. And then Buck squeezes his thigh as his hand inches higher up and he stops thinking of anyone else altogether. 

“You’re not doing anything after this are you?” Eddie asks, hoping he comes across a lot bolder and braver than he feels. 

Buck looks at him, smirk growing, eyes twinkling with excitement. 

“I’m not, but you could be doing me.”

Eddie laughs, drawing attention from the rest of their group again. It feels weird to not care, but freeing, too. Explaining it seems like a futile effort, so he doesn’t bother. 

“That’s the plan.”

Buck shivers beside him, hiding his reaction by pretending to crack his back. It’s almost funny watching him try to hide how visibly turned on he is from their friends. 

Almost, because he’s positive he’s not any better.

His phone buzzes on the table. Eddie doesn’t plan on checking it—he’s out with his friends, if it’s important, the person would certainly call—except then Buck nudges him with his elbow, glancing meaningfully at his phone on the table. He sighs, feigning annoyance but smiling the whole time.

The text nearly makes him drop his phone. 

It’s—Jesus Christ. It’s a photo. Buck, just stepped out of the shower, the outfit he’s wearing right now folded on top of the closed toilet, and he’s completely naked and hard, one hand fisted around his cock, his face scrunched up in pleasure.

Eddie can hear the photo. Knows by heart the sounds he’s making. 

“You’re evil,” he hisses. 

His phone buzzes again.

Buck:

you’re gonna fuck me anyway ;)

Eddie chances a look around the table. No one’s paying any attention to them, at least not that he can tell. He’s pretty sure Hen and Karen are, like, vaguely omnipotent, though. 

Eddie:

When do you think we can leave?

Beside him, Buck smirks.

Buck:

i think if we can convince hen/karen or my sister and chim to do another song we can create a distraction. 

Eddie knocks their knees together under the table.

Eddie:

I like how you think.

It’s funny, watching Buck try to figure out the perfect moment to manipulate their friends into getting on the karaoke stage. Eddie can tell Buck isn’t paying attention to the story Karen is telling about some guy at her job saying his moon project is more impressive than her mars project. Eddie’s laughing in all the right places, and Buck’s laughing when he laughs, so it probably feels normal to everyone else.

But there are fingers tapping along the inseam of his jeans, and a warmth beside him he’s grown so used to. 

He knows better, is what he’s getting at. 

A group of slightly drunk girls gets off the stage and he catches Buck’s eye in the warm, dim bar lighting. 

Eddie’s breath catches slightly. Not even at the look Buck gives him, because Buck’s laughing at something Chimney said, narrowing his eyes playfully at him, and Eddie feels a little bit like someone’s placed a burning, buzzing, thrumming livewire in his gut. 

It’s weird. He’s never felt that before. It’s anxiety, he’s sure of it, because what he and Buck are about to do is different. Sex has always come with a level of butterflies, with a level of anxiety, and it makes perfect sense that he’d feel this way today, too. 

That he’d look at Buck and feel like every light in every city in the world exists in his smile, so stupidly bright and terrifying. 

Because that’s what this is. Terrifying. Eddie’s just scared, because of course he would be. There’s no reason why it would be anything else. 

(He’s been saying this for weeks.)

“Have you guys done a song?” Buck asks beside him, practically vibrating in the booth. 

“I’ve been begging Hen to do Islands in the stream,” Karen answers.

“Hey!” Chimney squawks, indignant. “That’s our song.”

“Oh, you two have your song now?” Buck teases. “Interesting.”

“Like you and Eddie don’t have your things, too,” Chimney shoots back.

Eddie feels unbearably aware of his existence. And he doesn’t know why. It’s getting to him, but it can get to him tomorrow, because he’d really, really like to fuck Buck, and he’s pretty sure this impending existential crisis is gonna get in the way of that a little. 

“Eddie and I have our things in a best friend way. I’d let any of you sing a song we usually do together, because we’re just friends.”

Chimney pouts. 

“Fine. You guys can do Islands in the stream, but just know Maddie and I do it better.”

Hen rolls her eyes when Karen gets up and goes over to the guy running the karaoke machine. The look on Hen’s face is unbelievably fond, smiling at her wife as Karen talks to the guy, who seems a little intimidated by the way she’s excitedly waving her hands around. 

His phone buzzes again. Buck’s typing under the table, so Eddie’s sure the message is from him. 

Buck:

when karen gets back say you’re gonna go so you can get an early night or smth

say chris has been waking you up so you want to go catch up on sleep

and then offer to give me a ride home

or just a ride ;)

Eddie swallows. It’d be audible if the bar wasn’t so loud; the smirk on Buck’s face is getting him drunker than the alcohol. 

Hen meets Karen up at the makeshift bar stage. Karen’s got a surprisingly beautiful voice, but it doesn’t overshadow Hen’s, even though Karen’s clearly got more confidence on stage. They sing together, voices blending, Karen and Hen harmonizing with each other with seemingly practiced ease. 

Every beat of my heart

We got something going on

There’s a lump in his throat that he manages to swallow down. 

“I think I’m gonna get going,” he tells the table, hoping it doesn’t feel too out of nowhere. 

Chim frowns. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Chris hasn’t been sleeping well, and I figured I may as well catch up on it while he’s at Hen and Karen’s.”

Chim nods, accepting the explanation. Maddie and Bobby smile at him pleasantly when he looks over at them. 

“You’re okay to drive?” Bobby asks, already reaching for his keys in case Eddie even suggests he might not be. 

“I’m good. I didn’t even finish my second beer, it’s no problem.” 

Buck’s looking at him expectantly, bouncing his knee.

“You need a ride? I know you ubered.”

Buck checks his phone like he’s looking at the time. It’s not particularly convincing, but it doesn’t particularly matter. 

“Yeah, I’ll go, too.”

Bobby frowns.

“Are you sure? I can give you a ride home later, it’s really no big deal. You live closer to me, it’s out of Eddie’s way,” he reasons, looking at Buck. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I was planning on spending the night at Eddie’s today, anyway. Before we agreed to go out, actually. Hen and Karen stealing Chris ruined my night of losing at Mario Kart. It’s chill.”

Bobby’s frown deepens. A matching one creases between Maddie’s brows. 

“You don’t need to pick anything up from your place?” 

Buck doesn’t even pause, doesn’t even blink. Eddie can see the cogs turning in Maddie’s brain, and he feels very much like he should probably give a shit about the fact that Buck’s sister is gonna think they’re in gay love with each other. 

He thinks back to the conversation he had with Maddie on Buck’s balcony, the way it seemed like she thought something more was going on. She didn’t say it explicitly, not in those exact words, but it was very clear what was going on in her mind. 

That existential crisis knocks on his forehead. Eddie pushes it aside. 

“I got extra over at Eddie’s. I’m not really a guest there, it’s fine.”

Eddie feels warm all over at the easy, confident way Buck says it. Like there’s no doubt in his mind of his place with Eddie and Chris. 

“Well, I guess I will see you both on Sunday,” Bobby says, smiling at the two of them. 

“Have you closed your tab?” Eddie asks. Buck just nods. Whether or not he’s telling the truth, Eddie can’t quite tell. There’s heat swimming in his darkening eyes, his smile open and inviting, something hungry tucked into the corners. 

God, he’s gonna feel so good around Eddie’s cock. The need to fuck into him, to feel his heat around his dick is overwhelming. 

He’d ask Buck to drive, but Buck doesn’t seem any calmer than he is. 

They’re jittery the whole ride home, Buck’s on him the second Eddie shuts his front door, lips attaching to his neck with a frantic sort of need, a frantic sort of want that has Eddie’s cock jumping to attention in his jeans. 

“Bed?” he asks, already breathless. 

“Fuck, yeah, just. Let me—I need to kiss you, a little bit. Not–not kiss not—ugh,” he starts unbuttoning Eddie’s shirt, kissing every inch of skin he can reach. He circles one nipple with his tongue, the other with his finger, and it makes Eddie jerk against him. 

“Sensitive,” Buck murmurs. It’s just an observation, it shouldn’t make Eddie feel as riled up as he does, but something about the way Buck says it, like an afterthought, like he didn’t actually mean to say it out loud has Eddie’s head starting to spin. 

His teeth dig in, tugging a little at Eddie’s nipple, and it’s enough to make him gasp. 

Eddie pulls him up, grabbing at whatever fabric he can reach and grabs Buck’s face in one of his hands, tilting his chin up so Eddie can attach his lips to the skin just under his jaw line. He tastes like sweat and the beer that dripped down his chin when he laughed too hard at Hen’s jokes.  

He tastes a little sweet, too. Like skin, yes, but like Buck, somehow. 

Eddie’s addicted to it. 

He can feel Buck’s cock hardening against his thigh, feels it as Buck grinds up against him, searching for some form of relief. 

Eddie pulls his hips flush against his, rolling their bodies together. There’s too many layers of fabric, and it’s a pretty uncoordinated move, considering Eddie’s still mouthing at his throat, but it’s got Buck moaning, hand coming up to slide through the short hairs at the nape of his neck. 

He uses his grip to pull Eddie’s head back. Buck’s eyes manage to darken even more at the sight of him. Lips shiny with spit, eyes wide and gaze hungry, skin tinted pink up to his ears. 

“Bed now? C’mon, Eddie, I want you.”

Eddie watches him through half lidded eyes, I want you bouncing around in his mind, echoing only softer than the beating of his heart. 

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”

Buck nods. 

“Please.”

They’re practically bouncing as they walk to the bedroom, Buck giggling behind him. Eddie catches him marveling at their joint hands like he can’t believe it’s really happening. He gets it. Not quite sure any of this feels real to him, either.

But the want is bone deep and raw, and realer than anything he knows. 

“I, um. I opened myself up earlier. In the shower. Just to get back into the flow of it, I haven’t been fucked in a long time. It was just my fingers but I was thorough. Just go slow, okay?” Buck asks as they step through the door. Eddie pushes him back onto the bed so he’s hovering over him, and swallows at the way Buck’s eyes trail down his chest until they’re level with his hard cock. 

“Did you come like that?” Eddie can’t help but ask. 

“Yeah. Felt good. Feels better than normal, a little more intense. You gotta let me do it to you someday.” 

Eddie nods without really thinking about it.

“Yeah. Sure. Bet you’d feel good, bet all the girls would be so jealous if they knew I got to have you.”

Buck doesn’t say anything in response, just pulls Eddie closer, closer, closer, until his nose is pressing against his skin, right along his happy trail. The sight is so erotic it has Eddie’s cock jumping, pressing up against the zipper in a way that’s uncomfortable. 

“Can I take your pants off?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. 

“Sure, make this the one time you’ve ever asked.”

Buck pouts. 

“Consent is important, Eddie.”

“You’ve got it, Buck.” The expectant look in his eyes doesn’t waver. Eddie runs his fingers through his hair; Buck seems to be anticipating the tightening of his hold, but he doesn’t do anything other than pet his hair gently. “Yes, okay? You can take my pants off.”

“And can I suck your cock a little?”

Eddie inhales sharply. “I won’t last if you do that. When I fuck you, no way I’ll last. We’ll have to work up to that.” 

“Next time, then.”

“Next time,” Eddie echoes. 

Buck undoes his belt a little frantically, pulling his pants and underwear down in one swift move, urging Eddie to step out of his jeans and strip off his shift with a wave of his hands. 

“Your turn,” Eddie tells him, hand wrapping around his cock. He strokes it lightly, too teasingly for it to really do anything for him, but it makes him feel less like he’s about to completely explode. 

Buck strips himself quickly, grabbing Eddie the second he’s naked and dragging them both onto the mattress. He reaches into the front pocket of his discarded pants and pulls out a small bottle of lube. 

“You were carrying that at the bar?” Eddie asks incredulously. 

“I wasn’t sure if we’d be going to yours or mine,” Buck answers with a shrug. 

“What do you need?” He says when Buck hands him the lube. Buck’s nervous, obvious in the way he’s worrying his teeth into his bottom lip, but there’s a sparkle of confidence in his eyes, a curve of desire in the upturn of his smile. 

“You. Lube up and fuck me, Diaz.”

Eddie snorts. 

“On it, Buckley.”

Buck flips over so he’s on his knees, face down, ass up. It takes a lot of effort not to simply jerk off at the sight, because Eddie’s gotta be honest—he’s kind of afraid he won’t last. Not when Buck is looking like that, one hand between his body and the mattress as he strokes himself slowly. 

Eddie lets his thumb ghost over Buck’s hole. It’s an ass, Eddie’s not sure what else he’s supposed to think about it, but it’s an ass he desperately needs to get his hands on. Like immediately. 

So he does, reaches out tentatively and spreads Buck’s cheeks apart, pressing his thumb more insistently against the rim. Buck mewls—moans, whimpers, whines— at the contact. 

“Eddie, it’s cute that you’re so in awe of the concept of anal, but if you don’t get your dick in me I’m going to walk out.”

It breaks the tension, has Eddie laughing so hard he doubles over at the absurdity of the situation. He leans down and presses a kiss to the pale swell of Buck’s ass, biting the flesh and smiling against his skin when Buck tries to fuck back against nothing. 

He grabs a condom from his bedside drawer, smacking Buck’s ass lightly when he pouts. Coming down each other’s throats is one thing, but fucking Buck raw feels like something else altogether. 

Maybe some other time, though. They could get tested together, have celebratory messy, condomless sex after their results come in.

Buck huffs, impatient. 

Eddie slides the condom on and lubes up his cock, lining it up with Buck’s hole, and slowly, carefully sinks in. 

It takes effort not to go in all the way, Eddie will admit. Buck’s tight around him, and his hole swallows the tip of Eddie’s cock greedily. He goes slow, afraid of hurting him. Buck’s relaxed, sighing happily against the pillow, which makes it easier. He takes it so easily, so willingly that Eddie feels a little crazy with it.

“You’re not gonna break me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you at all.”

Buck rocks backward, taking another inch of his cock. Eddie groans. Buck fucks back again, and he wants to sink forward, wants to take everything, but it’s almost too much. And he wishes he could trust himself not to go too far, but Buck’s all tight heat around him, and it’s kind of impossible to be normal about that.

When Eddie’s fully… in him, they both pause. Eddie, so he can get used to the feeling and not come immediately like a teenager having sex for the first time. Buck, so he can get used to the stretch so Eddie can fuck him like he means it.

“Move. Like, now.”

Eddie chuckles above him, and starts rolling his hips. Slowly at first before pulling out nearly all the way and fucking back into him. Buck moans like a pornstar, frankly, and it makes Eddie hot all over. 

“Yeah, like that,” Buck mumbles, words a little muffled. 

“Yeah?”

Buck just nods. 

Eddie starts fucking him in earnest, and Buck seems into it, but Eddie’s got the distinct feeling that this feels better for him than it does for Buck. It feels like fucking heaven for Eddie, the pressure around his aching cock almost too much for him to bear, and Buck’s enjoying himself—his erection hasn’t flagged—but he’s not desperate the way he is when Eddie’s sucking him off. 

In his porn-fueled research, he learned enough to know he needs to seek out Buck’s prostate, that that will make him shiver against him. He tries changing the angle himself, tries leaning up so he’s fucking down, but it’s not enough. 

It’s a bit of a porny move, he can admit, but he pulls Buck up so he’s arched back, pressing against Eddie’s chest. 

Buck gasps, a ruined sort of sound slipping past his lips when Eddie thrusts into him again. 

Fuck yeah. 

“Eddie, please. Jesus, feels so good, feel so full,” Buck babbles, desperate little noises punched out of him on every thrust. 

And if Eddie uses the position to play with Buck’s nipples, one hand splayed across his belly and the other brushing over the sensitive nub, it’s only because he likes it when Buck falls apart, and has nothing to do with the fact that Eddie needs to touch him everywhere. Craves it in a way that’s so hungry and wanton he barely recognizes the need. 

It feels good. He’s got no other way to describe it, feels a little lost for words, and Buck’s rambling; Eddie and fuck and please, please, please spilling out. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Feels like he’ll rip himself open if he does, so he kisses along Buck’s shoulder, instead. 

“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs. “Take my cock so well, look so pretty, all flushed.”

Buck whines, high in his throat. 

“You can’t just say that, man.”

Eddie hums, feeling spurred on. 

“No? I can’t say how desperate you look, rocking your hips back to meet every thrust?”

“Feels good. You’re big, feels so good.” 

Eddie sinks his teeth into his neck. Fucks him harder, moving their bodies so he can thrust into Buck easier. The room is quiet save for their labored breathing and the sound of skin hitting skin. Buck’s loud—Eddie knew that, has had enough sex with him to know this—but he’s shameless with it. High, throaty whines, loud, broken moans, a litany of pleas when Eddie’s cock presses up against his prostate just right. 

“Touch me,” Buck begs, absolutely ruined. “Come on, Eddie, need to come, I need you to touch me.”

“Can’t do it yourself?” Eddie teases, rolling his hips slowly so Buck feels every drag. 

Buck shakes his head. “Want you.”

“Want me where?” he asks, just to be a little shit. It’s fun, this back and forth. Eddie gets off on it almost as much as he does the actual sex.

Almost, because he doesn’t think anything could compare to the way Buck’s hole clenches around him. He nearly comes on the spot, but he holds back. He wants Buck to come first, wants to feel him fall apart on his cock. 

“Fuck you,” Buck pants, throwing his head back. Eddie uses it as opportunity to suck a mark into his skin, watching in fascination as it blooms red when he pulls away.

Buck will need to figure out how to cover that up later, but that’s a problem for when Eddie’s not balls deep in his best friend. 

“Put your hand around my dick and make me come on your cock or I’m never sucking you off again.”

Eddie chuckles, hips rolling up into him with the same fervor, but the edge of desperation isn’t lost on either of them. 

“You drive a hard bargain,” Eddie says, dropping a kiss to his neck. “So damn pretty on your knees, can’t risk losing that.”

Buck laughs, a breathless sound that cuts off into a moan when Eddie finally does give him leaking dick some relief. 

“So wet.”

“Not a girl.”

“Getting my fingers all messy like one, though.”

The sound that punches out of Buck is one he’s never heard before. Jesus, he’s gonna be the death of him. 

He strokes Buck in time with his thrusts, his other hand coming up to pinch a nipple. Buck’s breathless, torn between rocking back and thrusting forward. 

“Gonna come, gonna come, so good, Eddie—fuck, yeah, right there.” It’s a little nonsensical, just words that Eddie’s pretty sure Buck isn’t even totally aware he’s saying. 

Buck’s whole body tightens as he comes, and it’s maddening. He’s a sight, always is, but there’s something about the way he sags back onto Eddie’s chest, something about the way he’s completely fucked out has Eddie aching. 

His hand is coated in Buck’s come. Eddie wipes it against the bedsheets without really thinking about it. 

“You’re disgusting.”

“Suck me off anyway?”

Buck nods, all relaxed against him, smile dopey. He presses a kiss to the hinge of Eddie’s jaw, and it’s so sweet it nearly sends him over the edge. 

He pulls out carefully, Buck wincing as his hard cock slips out of him. Gently, Eddie flips him over so he’s sitting up, ripping off the condom and jerking his cock. Buck opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes when Eddie places the head of his cock against the soft, pink swell of his lip. 

Eddie tense, balls tightening as his orgasm washes over him. His come coats Buck’s tongue, whole body goes white-hot when Buck smiles as he swallows. 

Eddie collapses on the bed beside him, landing directly on the sticky wet patch of Buck’s come. 

“Ugh,” he complains, face scrunched in disgust. 

“You did that to yourself.”

They’re quiet for a minute, both of them trying to catch their breath. Eddie’s heard of post-nut clarity, but he’s pretty sure he’s post-nut stupid, because all he wants is to roll over and capture Buck’s lips in a soft kiss, gentle and tender as he rolls Buck’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

Which, no. Eddie’s sex gay, not romance gay. There’s a difference. 

“Was that good?” Buck asks, suddenly shy. 

“Obviously.”

He doesn’t need to look at Buck to know he’s grinning, hears it in his voice when he speaks. “We should do it again.”

Eddie turns to face him, finds Buck already looking back. His eyes are dark in the dim lighting off Eddie’s bedroom, but there’s a sparkle in them that’s hard to miss. It makes Eddie’s breath catch in his throat. 

“We should,” he says softly, the words bordering on too gentle as they come out of his mouth.

Buck smiles, and it feels golden and warm and inviting. 

Eddie? 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Buck smirks, threading his fingers through Eddie’s hair. He leans forward so his breath fans over the shell of Eddie’s ear. Buck bites the lobe, nipping lightly. 

“You feel better,” he says, voice rough and gravelly. It’s supposed to be sexy—and it is—but it’s such a performance it has Eddie giggling. 

“You’re an idiot,” he tells him, smiling fondly. Buck just tosses his head back, bouncing on his cock. Eddie’s eyes are glued to his thighs; strong, thick muscle rippling as Buck rides him. His cock is flushed pink, curving up to his belly. Eddie doesn’t jerk him off despite how much he wants to. There’s precome dripping from the head, Eddie swipes his thumb through it just to watch the way Buck’s movements stutter.

His hands trail up and down Buck’s side, making Buck squirm from the barely there touch, sensitive to the point where it makes him ticklish.

Chimney’s used it against him more than once at the station to get him to switch chores. It’s kind of funny. 

Eddie only uses it like this. To tease him, to make his shallow breaths shaky. It has the intended effect of making Buck sit on his lap, cock leaking even more, getting Eddie’s chest all messy with his precome. 

Buck’s looking at him, something in his eyes that Eddie doesn’t know how to describe. It’s not egotistical for him to admit that he’s attractive, and it’s not egotistical for him to admit that Buck’s attracted to him, but it’s one thing to know that and it’s another to see it.

The hard cock that bobs with Buck’s bounces, the bone-deep desire that’s so evident in the look he gives him, the flush that goes from the high of his cheeks all the way down the tip of his cock. 

He does his best to arch up off the couch so he can meet Buck’s movements, only for Buck to frown and sit down completely, little grinding moves that must have Eddie right up against his prostate if the way his eyelashes flutter is anything to go by. 

“You don’t get to do anything. This is your reward, remember?”

Buck clenches around him as he slides himself up until just the tip is pressing into him. Buck grins—wicked and a little feral—and sinks down so slowly, so tight the whole way down that Eddie sees fucking stars when he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. 

“I hope you don’t reward Chimney like this when he saves the last victim on a call.”

Buck rolls his eyes fondly, leaning down and licking up Eddie’s neck. He’s sweaty, tastes like salt on Buck’s tongue, probably, but Buck just does it again, tongue wet along his skin. It’s hot, of course it is, Buck’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen, but something about the way he hums as he nips along the long, exposed line of Eddie’s throat has him losing his mind. 

They haven’t fucked since the first time—too busy, too many things going on, the house never empty—but it’s the middle of the day and Chris is at school. 

Eddie’s got nowhere to be but inside Buck.

“I don’t like Chimney nearly as much as I like you.” It’s so earnest that Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Buck’s smiling sweetly down at him, hands threading through his hair again. They don’t tug, they don’t pull, he doesn’t use the grip to manhandle Eddie so he can have easier access to his throat so he can leave pretty little bruises along Eddie’s tan skin.

No, his fingers just brush through Eddie’s sweaty hair. Almost tenderly. There’s a lump that’s been sitting in his throat for the past few weeks, growing consistently harder to swallow around. It feels like it’s weighing him down, now. Heavier than Buck on his lap.

Eddie smiles, a little stupid when Buck tugs his hair just enough to bring him back to him. 

“I don’t know, Chimney did get me a very nice twenty-five dollar gift card to starbucks the other day.”

Buck pouts. It’s dumb, he thinks, how much he likes having sex with Buck. They’re having a very ridiculous conversation—Eddie doesn’t like anyone better than he likes Buck, and he’s pretty positive Buck is very aware of this. If he isn’t, Eddie needs to fix that. Like, immediately. 

“Bet I ride you better, though,” Buck says, smirk cocky and fond. That’s been different, lately. When they first started hooking up, they were looking for relief and happened to find it in each other. 

Now, it’s…something’s shifted. He figures that’s probably normal, though. You get used to someone, the way their body moves, and sex becomes looser, giddier, easier. 

It worked that way with Shannon. No reason why the same thing wouldn’t happen with Buck. 

“Make me come then,” he whispers in the space between them. He wraps a hand around Buck’s cock, smearing the precome around the head and using it to lube up his slide. Buck moans, throwing his head back as his movement gets less coordinated. 

“You feel—” kiss to the column of his throat. “So—” Buck grinds down on his lap. “Perfect,” he sighs. 

“Can’t believe I get you like this. You’re unreal.”

Buck gives him a fucked out, lop-sided grin. 

“Back at you, hotshot.”

Eddie chuckles, thrusting up to meet Buck in the middle despite Buck’s insistence earlier that he stay still. Hard not to move when there’s a panting, flushed mess frantically searching for relief as he bounces on your cock. Eddie doesn’t try to resist the need to touch him everywhere, the need to fuck up into him until he spills into the condom. 

Knock, knock, knock.

Buck groans. Not in a sexy way, which is miserable, because Eddie loves when Buck groans in a sexy way. 

“Ignore it. Probably, like, mail or something. I’m so close, Eddie, I’m so close.”

The person knocks again, louder this time. 

“Buck, I think you should get the door.”

“Eddie, I think we should both get to come. I’ve yet to feel you come in me, you know.”

The glint in his eye is pure mischief. Eddie does what any normal human being would do—flips them around so Buck’s on the couch, his legs coming up to wrap around Eddie’s waist instinctively as Eddie thrusts into him. 

Buck moans, loud enough for however is still knocking on the fucking door to get the damn memo. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.”

“You close?”

“Yes. So close, come on, come on.”

And then the fucking doorbell rings. 

Buck sighs, stilling beneath him. 

“I’m going to kill whoever’s on the other side of that door.”

Eddie huffs in agreement. 

“Not if I get to them first.”

Buck pushes him off, his own dick still hard, slipping out from underneath him and Eddie’s got half a mind to pull him forward and take him in his mouth until Buck’s hitting the back of his throat. Whoever’s on the other side of that door, though, has clearly never once in their life heard of patience. Or of the idea that someone might not be home.

Besides, Buck moans loud. He gets completely lost in it, and Eddie knows for a fact that Buck’s front door doesn’t block a lot of sound. 

Knows for a fact because he once showed up with Christopher and take out and overheard Buck’s very loud and very passionate cover of don’t go wasting your emotions. 

Chris was giggling into his hands for the rest of dinner. Buck seemed too happy to be making him happy to care. 

“Are you planning on answering the door naked?” Eddie asks, eyebrow raised. 

Buck pouts, looking down at himself. At his hard cock that’s still slick with precome, his bare chest still flushed from exertion. 

“This was supposed to be a no-pants afternoon.”

Eddie laughs. More like huffs out a breath in amusement, looking at Buck who’s smiling back playfully. The sunlight from the loft’s massive windows create a halo behind him. He’s very pretty, he notices. Not for the first time, but definitely the first time he lets the thought linger. Pretty face, pretty smile.

Pretty cock. 

Also not for the first time, Eddie’s expression twists into something equal parts soft and smug as he thinks about the fact that he’s the only one who gets to have him like this. 

“Coming!” Buck shouts at the door as he frantically searches for a pair of pants. He ends up pulling on Eddie’s gray sweatshorts and Eddie’s LAFD issued hoodie, DIAZ pulled tight across his broad shoulders. 

He wraps a hand around himself as he watches Buck walk away. The shirt is sort of bunched up around his mid back, and his shorts are hanging low enough that it’s exposing a sliver of skin, just above the swell of his ass. 

It’s far from the most sexual thing he’s seen Buck in. If being in the nude doesn’t count, he’s seen Buck in various states of undress, and has received various photos of him in just his underwear, boxer briefs clinging to wet skin to his sweaty skin when he sent Eddie nudes post workout that one time.

But there’s something about the way his name stretches across the broad width of his back that has Eddie wanting to stroke himself until he spills all over his fist. 

Unfair to Buck to get off when he can’t, though. 

So, like a good best friend, he sneaks off into the bathroom with Buck’s half of the discarded clothing on the floor and splashes some water in his face until he feels a little more in control of himself. 

He grabs his phone, too, and checks it as a distraction, so he doesn’t get lost staring at the hickeys and the teeth marks littered along his skin. Buck’s got an oral fixation and a half, loves any reason to get his mouth on Eddie. Has once grumbled because Eddie had the audacity to suck a bruise into his skin, because it interrupted Buck’s flow of making Eddie look like he got attacked by a vampire. 

Eddie spent half an hour researching ways to get rid of hickeys that night, and then another forty five minutes testing out all the suggestions. 

There are three new notifications that flash when he turns on his screen. The first is a friend request on facebook from someone whose name he doesn’t recognize. 

The other two are from Shannon. 

Shannon:

Eddie, I don’t want to keep bothering you, but I promise I’m willing to do whatever it takes to see Chris again. I love him, and I loved you at some point, too. I don’t want to throw away everything. I want to fix what I have with him before it’s too late. I understand if you need more time, but at least answer me so we can talk about it?

Thanks x

Eddie shakes his head. He needs to deal with this, he knows, but it feels too real. Life has been good lately. It’s been Christopher’s bright, bubbly laughter, it’s been drinks with the 118, it’s been Buck and everything they’ve got going. 

Shannon scares him, if he’s being honest. Not Shannon herself, but what she means. Eddie’s not very good at talking about his feelings, at being vulnerable, but he is very good at getting comfortable and ignoring things he doesn’t want to look at.

Shannon?

Shannon falls very neatly into the things he likes to ignore category. 

Eddie sighs and pockets his phone. He’ll figure it out later. Maybe he can ask Bobby or Hen for advice on it. 

Buck’s talking to a woman when Eddie steps back into the living room. She’s beautiful, is the first thing he notes. Fair skin and light, strawberry blonde hair that’s falling over her shoulder. There’s something about the way she’s leaning forward against the island, something about the way she smiles at a joke Buck tells her that’s laced with a familiarity that makes Eddie’s stomach churn. 

He feels hot all over. There’s something about the way she’s looking at Buck that makes his skin itch. 

When Buck notices him his face lights up. Eddie can’t help but smile back.

“Hey,” he says, eyes entirely on him. They rake up and down his frame, taking in the too-large clothing he’s got on. There’s something tucked into the corner of his smile, a whisper of something cocky and possessive. 

The woman watches them expectantly. 

“Oh,” Buck says, seemingly remembering her existence at all. “Eddie, um—this. This is Abby.”

His heart sinks heavy into his gut, and he does his best to keep his face from showing it. 

Abby. Abby Clark. Buck’s one true love, the relationship he couldn’t get over when Eddie first met him. God, Eddie’s probably just been a placeholder this whole time. The thought makes him ache down to his toes in ways he knows how to name but refuses to think about. 

“Right. Nice to meet you, Abby. I should get going, though.”

He doesn’t wait for Buck to answer, doesn’t turn around as he pulls the door shut behind him, doesn’t lock the door with the key on his keyring because he doesn’t want Abby to assume things that aren’t true.