Archive of Our Own

Buck would say he’s pretty outdoorsy. His vast variety of jobs before the 118 made sure of that, even if he grew up in a city and his parents never took them on vacation anywhere where they’d actually have to supervise or, God forbid, spend time with their children.

He is surprised that Eddie is considerably less outdoorsy than he’d assumed. The assumption being Texas, the army, the fact that Buck’s more than happy to daydream about Eddie doing hands-on survival skills type shit, an extension of the very sexy competency he displays every single day in other contexts.

But no, Eddie’s standing in front of this half-pitched tent and looking a little lost as he fits the poles together in an endearingly incorrect manner.

They’re camping, having driven upstate with Christopher and his friend Nick for some lakeside, woodsy fresh air. And the air is fresh, crisp with an unseasonal chill, but Buck’s well prepared with extra blankets and an outdoor heater. Chris has been looking forward to this for months, so neither Buck nor Eddie wanted to cancel the trip based on a little cold weather, easy enough to combat and nowhere near dangerous in a late Californian September.

“Need a hand?” he asks Eddie, rescuing the bones of the tent and undoing Eddie’s attempted monstrosity of structural integrity. He grins at Eddie’s woebegone expression, passing him the correct pole. “It’s this one, actually. Didn’t do much camping as a kid, huh?”

Eddie pouts at him. “My dad was never really around, and Mom is not an outdoors kinda person.”

“Not even in the army?”

“Those tents are different,” Eddie says, looking pleased as the tent begins to take shape, canvas stretching in all the right places. “And, uh. It’s been a minute, I guess.”

“Well, I am more than happy to be your Bear Grylls,” Buck grins. “Buck Grylls, if you will.”

“I will not,” Eddie says with a sniff, but he’s smiling, so Buck basks in it. “Hey, can you show the kids how to do their own tent? I think it’ll be good for them to know how to set it up it themselves.”

“Yeah, ’course.”

He gets a little into it, he can tell, shouting “Survival Skills 101, baby!” and continuing with unfettered enthusiasm even once both tents are pitched, showing them the wildlife-proof food boxes and the kindling for the fire pit and how to purify lake water. Eddie reels him in gently when the kids’ eyes begin to glaze over during his explanation of sediment filtration, a hand on his elbow as he interrupts Buck to suggest they collect what’s needed to get the fire going before the sun sets.

“Sorry,” Buck grins as him as Chris and Nick search along the treeline for appropriate wood to burn, “got a little carried away there.”

“You usually do,” Eddie tells him, so fond Buck can feel the warmth of it. “You can tell me the rest of it later, if you want.”

“Cool,” Buck says, and can’t help adding, “It works on a gravity system, Eddie. You can even use it as a solar shower!”

“Very cool,” Eddie pats his shoulder indulgently. “I’m not planning on showering out here, but great for future reference, bud.”

Buck grins at him, interrupted by Chris and Nick approaching them with armfuls of branches.

“Dad,” Chris says, “can we go down to the lake?”

“It’s getting kinda dark, mijo,” Eddie says. “And chilly.”

Chris pouts, disappointment palpable even in front of Nick.

“We gotta cut through the woods to get there, right?” Buck adds quickly. “We don’t know what that’s like, so it’s safer to wait till the morning, kid. Don’t wanna trip and sprain something in the dark.”

Chris nods, but the pout stays strong.

Eddie sighs. “How ’bout Buck and I scout it out tonight and we can all go down first thing tomorrow?”

Both kids perk up at that.

“You mean—we’d be alone at the campsite?” Chris asks. “Just me and Nick?”

“Alright, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Eddie says. “Yes, technically, but for, like, twenty minutes. Thirty at most. And you’ll have to stick to the rules that, uh, Buck will tell us about, and make safe, responsible choices if you have to. Okay?”

He looks at Buck as if he’s seeking some kind of parental united front, so Buck nods quickly, turning to the kids.

“Lots of rules to remember. We’re trusting you to be mature here,” he tells them, something warm and pleased curling up before the hearth of his heart when Eddie nods in agreement in his peripheral vision. “You guys think you can manage that?”

Chris and Nick nod eagerly, excited at any prospect of being left unsupervised, even for under half an hour.

They get a little fire going, roasting sausages and s’mores until their stomachs are full and hands are sticky. The sun sets, a gorgeous wash of oranges and pinks, leaving the campsite dark save for the fire and the couple of lanterns they’ve brought with them.

“Alright, all the food is in the bear-proof box, and you each have a flashlight, right?” Buck asks the kids.

Nick diligently does inventory, nodding when Chris brandishes his own flashlight.

“And you each have your cell phones. There’s pretty good signal here, so no leaving the campsite unless it’s an absolute emergency, okay?” Eddie says.

“If you hear any animal noises, stay in your tent. If you hear any people noises, stay in your tent. You can lock the zipper from the inside. And text us immediately,” Buck tells them. “We’re putting the fire out before we go just in case the wind changes—we’re not risking any accidents.”

“We have plenty of blankets in case it gets even chillier,” Eddie adds, jogging to the truck and returning with several heavy quilts. He deposits them in the kids’ tent and says, “If you need the bathroom, hold it till we get back. We’re not gonna be gone that long. If you absolutely have to go, both of you go together, okay? I don’t want anyone left alone for even a minute.”

“No getting snacks out if you’re still hungry,” Buck says, wracking his brain to make sure he’s giving them the complete list of dos and don’ts. “Wait until we’re back, I’ll get you something out of the food box. Also, stay in your tent. No dumb dares in the dark.”

Christopher rolls his eyes. “We’re not kids, Buck. We’re not gonna act stupid.”

“Teenagers are still very much kids,” Eddie says, crossing his arms. “But we know you’re mature enough to act responsible and keep yourselves safe. Yeah? Can we agree on all of this?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “We’ll be fine, go check out the lake.”

“Nick, are you good with the rules?”

“Yeah, Mr Diaz,” Nick says agreeably.

“We’ll look out for each other.” Chris nudges Nick’s shoulder gently, a movement so fond and familiar Buck feels himself instinctively swaying into Eddie’s orbit.

“Okay,” Eddie sighs, uncrossing his arms. “Get in your tent then, so Buck and I can leave.”

They do so eagerly, zipping the flap shut and talking a mile a minute to each other.

“Alright,” Buck says, grabbing a flashlight each for himself and Eddie. “D’you wanna grab a jacket? It’s only gonna get colder.”

“Yep,” Eddie says, heading to the truck once more to rummage through his duffel and slip on a fleece-lined sherpa jacket. “Alright, let’s go.”

The path through the woods isn’t treacherous, a clearly manmade trail through the trees. It’s long and winding, but it doesn’t split at any point, easy enough to follow in the dark. They walk in companionable silence, sounds of cicadas and the rustling of nocturnal creatures soundtracking their way.

Eventually, maybe fifteen minutes later, the trees end and the path opens up wide, lake spread out before them. It glitters silver in the moonlight, this languid stretch of dark, sparkling water.

There’s a little wooden dock and a rowboat tied to it, oars propped up safely inside.

“Pretty,” Buck murmurs. “Hopefully it’s warmer in the morning, the kids’ll love to take a dip.”

Eddie hums in agreement. “If it’s not, maybe we can still take that boat out. Actually—hang on, let me see what kinda condition it’s in. Don’t wanna get Chris’s hopes up if it’s a death trap.”

He trots along the shoreline to the dock, Buck two steps behind. The tap of their footsteps is sharp against the planks, a jarring change from the soft thump on dirt and sand. Eddie cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of the inside of the boat, turning to give Buck a thumbs up.

“Looks pretty good!” he says, grinning. He ventures to the end of the dock, boards creaking under his feet.

The wind blows across the dark water, Buck’s skin erupting in goosebumps. “Hope it’s less the setting of a horror movie in the daylight.” He rubs his hands down his arms.

Eddie shoots him a grin, turning to walk backward. “What, Creature from the Black Lagoon style? He was very much there in the daytime, too—fuck—”

With an almighty crunch, the wooden boards beneath Eddie crumple, creaking and crashing into the water below—and taking Eddie with them.

Buck’s blood goes icy with terror, and he lunges forward, uncaring of the way the remaining wooden panels creak beneath his own feet.

The splashing of the water rings unbearably loud in his ears, clearing only when the top of Eddie’s head emerges, sodden and disgruntled.

“Eddie? Fuck, Eddie, are you okay?” Buck kneels on the board nearest to him that’s still structurally sound.

Eddie spits out a mouthful of water. “Yeah, yeah. I can stand, it’s not that deep.”

“Fuck,” Buck says again, offering his hands to Eddie so he can haul him up. “Careful of the edges, careful—”

With his help, Eddie scrambles back onto the remaining part of the dock, sopping wet and shivering in the night breeze.

“S’good we came tonight,” he says, teeth chattering a little. “Can you imagine if one of the kids—Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, “but we might’ve also noticed the rotted fucking wood if it wasn’t dark as fuck. C’mon, man, let’s get you back. You’re gonna get hypothermia.”

“Right,” Eddie says, pushing himself up to stand. He’s shivering so violently his body is a blur along the edges.

“Okay, jacket off,” Buck says when they’re five minutes down the path. Eddie’s trembling, his lips and cheeks pale from the cold. “It’s waterlogged as fuck, you’re just gonna get colder with it on.”

Eddie struggles out of his jacket, not protesting when Buck firmly takes it from him. Under the protection of the trees, they’re mostly safe from the wind, but all Eddie has on is a t-shirt and equally soaked jeans, which Buck isn’t gonna demand he takes off right now.

“Okay, c’mon,” he murmurs instead. “Gotta get you dry quick.”

Eddie nods, or maybe he just shivers so violently it looks like a nod, but he hastens to comply anyway, hurrying down the path. Their urgency cuts the trip down to ten minutes and as soon as they’re back at the campsite, Buck’s rummaging in the tent for the fluffy towel he’s so glad he brought, shoving it at Eddie.

“Dry off and get changed,” he tells him, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“I know how this works, Buck,” he gripes, but heads around to the back of the truck to do so in proximity to the clean clothes in his duffel bag anyway.

Buck takes the time to check on the kids, torchlit shadowy outlines curled up beside each other in sleeping bags, gossiping intensely until Buck clears his throat.

“What, Buck?” Chris asks impatiently.

Buck snorts. “Just wanted to let you know we’re back. Don’t wander off if you guys wake up before us, okay? Love you, goodnight.”

There’s a rustle, and a pause, and then Chris sighs and says, “Love you, too. Goodnight.”

A quick check of the food box and that the fire’s completely out and then Buck’s slipping into the tent he and Eddie are sharing. It’s not tiny, but he and Eddie are pretty large guys, so it’s—cozy.

He takes off his shoes and jacket, wriggling into his own sleeping bag and getting settled by the time Eddie pokes his head through the flap.

His cheeks are pink from scrubbing with the towel, and he’s in dry sweats and another t-shirt, but there’s still a tremor to his hands.

“Okay,” he says, scrambling inside and zipping up the tent opening. “Fuck, I wish we could bring that heater inside. I’m fucking freezing.”

His phone is a lost cause, no rice or drying agents on hand to try and resuscitate it, so it gets dumped in the corner with Buck’s jacket. He climbs into his own sleeping bag beside Buck, zipping it all the way up and tugging it as high as he can, right up to his chin. They’re close enough together that Buck’s elbowed several times as Eddie tries to get as swaddled as possible.

Buck turns off the lantern, settling back and breathing deep. The night sounds wash over him and he’s reminded again how much he loves this: camping, the outdoors, the fresh air and nature of it all. The insects, the owls, the leaves in the breeze, Eddie’s teeth clattering as he trembles—

He opens his eyes. Fuck.

“Eddie,” he says, “are you okay?”

“M’fine. Just chilly,” Eddie croaks.

Buck closes his eyes again. Sometimes he hates that being a first responder means he knows how to combat things like potential hypothermia, because that means he has no choice but to open his mouth and say:

“Okay, c’mon. I’m zipping our sleeping bags together.”

“What?” Eddie asks, except it comes out as a squeak, an embarrassing one if the way he clears his throat right after is anything to go by. “What?”

“C’mon,” Buck says, unzipping his sleeping bag and then Eddie’s when he makes no move to do it himself. “You know as well as I do that body heat is the best way to warm up if you’re at risk of hypothermia.”

“Yeah, but…” Eddie clears his throat again. “I’m probably not at risk of hypothermia, right?”

“You can’t stop shivering and it took you three tries to zip up your sleeping bag. Budge over so I can zip our bags together.”

Eddie obliges, even if he looks a little out of it. Buck zips the bottom half of their sleeping bags together, the part that lies beneath them, before shuffling close to Eddie, body a line of heat along Eddie’s much colder one, and zips up the front part of their sleeping bags too. Suddenly, they’re packed together like sardines, pressed to each other at every point.

“Sorry,” Buck says, adjusting his arm so it’s under Eddie and not digging into his ribs. “Is this any better?”

“It’s, uh,” Eddie says weakly. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah,” Buck snorts, “that’s kinda the point.”

“Right,” Eddie says. He’s quiet for a moment, and Buck tentatively wraps his other arm around him, cradling him to his chest.

“You can, uh,” he starts. “You can hold me back. If it helps. I’m not gonna bite.”

“I know you’re not gonna bite,” Eddie snaps, and immediately softens. “Sorry. I’m just…”

“Cold?” Buck asks, mouth moving against the hair on top of Eddie’s head.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

But then his arms come up to hold Buck, hugging him tight, and Buck resolutely does not think about having this in any other context but the one they’re in now.

Five, ten minutes pass, the sounds from outside blending together, but Eddie’s breaths don’t even out. The shivering doesn’t stop, even with Buck’s body acting as a furnace. He rubs his hands firmly down Eddie’s spine, trying to create some warmth that way, but all it does is have Eddie miserably burrow closer to him, desperately seeking heat.

“Eds,” he says, “still bad?”

“S’okay,” Eddie tells him. “Sometimes it just takes a while to warm up, right?”

“Maybe I should get some blankets from the truck.”

“Gave ’em all to the kids,” Eddie says, shuddering against Buck’s chest. “I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s kinda chilly tonight.”

And sometimes Buck hates having the knowledge of a first responder, but more often than that, he hates being in love with his best friend. Because when he gears up to say what he says next, he doesn’t know how much of it comes from a place of concern and how much, even if it’s just a fraction, comes from wanting Eddie more than anything.

“Okay,” he says. “Take off your clothes.”

Eddie’s shivering actually does cease for a moment, body going rigid with shock. He leans away from Buck’s embrace, as far as the sleeping bag will allow, so he can look him in the eye.

“What?”

Buck holds his ground. “Take off your clothes.”

Eddie fishmouths at him in surprise, effect ruined a little by the shivering starting up again.

“C’mon, you and I both know the best way to warm up is skin-to-skin contact,” Buck says, using the slight space between them to tug off his t-shirt. He reaches down into the sleeping bag, wriggling out of his sweats before wadding them up and tossing them to a corner of the tent.

Eddie’s face is still pale, but there’s a new flush at the tops of his cheeks, visible even in the dark. They’re so close together like this, and Buck suddenly feels exposed in just his boxers while Eddie’s still clothed.

“C’mon, Eddie,” he says, a little nervously now. “It’s only weird if you make it weird.”

“I, uh,” Eddie starts uncertainly, before being wracked so hard by a wave of shivering it seems to make up his mind. “Okay.”

He yanks off his t-shirt, also tossing it to some corner of the tent before looking at Buck expectantly.

“Pants, too.”

Eddie blushes properly then, a delight to witness even if the circumstances are less than ideal. “I’m, uh. I didn’t put on underwear when I got changed earlier.”

“Oh,” Buck says, feeling his face heat up too. “That’s, uh. It’s cool, man. It’s just me. It doesn’t have to be—if it warms you up, you know? It’s not weird.”

“Right,” Eddie says softly, closing his eyes. “It’s—okay. It’s just—okay. It’s just you.”

He gives his head a little shake, reaching down and wrestling himself out of his own sweats before balling them up and placing them behind him. There’s a total of one inch of breathing room in these joined sleeping bags, one heartstopping inch between the long line of Eddie’s naked body and Buck’s own.

“Alright,” Buck says, just as softly. “Can I—?”

Eddie nods, and Buck wraps his arms around him again, pulling him flush against his chest.

And, oh, God. Buck can feel him everywhere. The press of their chests against each other, Buck’s body heat bleeding into Eddie where their skin touches. Eddie’s legs hesitantly tangling with Buck’s own, one stuck between Buck’s and the other hooked over his calf like deliciously warm puzzle pieces slotting together. Eddie’s nipples, hard from the cold and scraping against Buck’s tits as he breathes. Eddie’s cock, soft but very much there, Buck hyperaware of the way it’s nestled against the skin of his own thigh where his cotton boxers have ridden up.

Eddie’s hands, cool on Buck’s back as he winds his arms around Buck, too. Eddie’s nose, cold at the tip but breath warm when he exhales, tucked into Buck’s neck as he squirms closer, closer, closer, touching at every point.

And Buck sighs, because even if some part of this comes from Buck wanting Eddie, none of it’s in a way he feared. He loves Eddie, and wants Eddie in every way, lots of them sexual, but this? This is a different kind of intimacy altogether. This is Eddie allowing Buck to be there in a way he hasn’t ever let himself dream of. Because, yes, every dream he’s had about Eddie’s dick has been filthy and frantic, wonderfully so, but here, now, with Eddie’s soft cock rubbing against him as Eddie tries to hold Buck even closer like he’s trying to climb inside him? Buck’s never known intimacy like this, even if it only exists due to unfortunate circumstance, even if they had to preface it with a promised lack of weirdness.

But also—Buck said it’s just me. Eddie repeated that. And as platonic as that may be, the fact that it’s not weird for Eddie because it’s Buck, and Buck is so wholly a best friend to him the possibility of this being strange or sexual doesn’t even cross his mind—Eddie said it’s just you. Because Eddie trusts him more than anything else.

Buck knew that already: that Eddie trusts him with his life, his son. But somehow this feels different. It feels a different kind of good that Eddie trusts him with this.

“Better?” he asks quietly after some time has passed. He couldn’t tell you how long, lulled by the way Eddie’s chest expands against his own with every inhale.

“Mm,” Eddie agrees, a sleepy slur. The shivering has stopped, finally, and body heat is being passed back and forth instead of Buck providing all of it. He wonders if he should suggest they put their clothes back on, but Eddie’s showing no inclination that he wants to peel himself off Buck or even create an inch of space between them, seemingly content to be stuck together like this. “S’good. Warm.”

“Yeah,” Buck sighs, ruffling the top of Eddie’s hair with it. “Warm.”

He hugs Eddie a little tighter, and Eddie lets him without complaint, limp in Buck’s arms as he drifts off. Buck copies his deep, satisfied breaths almost unconsciously, syncing as he too slips under.

Buck wakes up hard. He wakes up hard and aching and leaking, through his boxers and onto Eddie’s thigh, sticky and wet.

If last night had not an ounce of sexual suggestion, this morning is ensuring that it’s remedied, in the horniest, most mortifying way possible.

It’s one thing to wake up with morning wood and laugh it off awkwardly. It’s another entirely to be so turned on in your sleep that you wake up dripping onto your best friend.

“Fuck,” he whispers. He’s rolled mostly on top of Eddie’s body during the night, and he squeezes his eyes shut in shame when the knowledge that Eddie’s comfortably, easily taking his full weight makes his cock blurt some more.

If he tries to get up now, he’ll wake Eddie. If he worms a hand between them to wipe at the precome he’s smeared onto Eddie’s thigh, he’ll wake Eddie. If he unzips the sleeping bag to get some space between them, he’ll wake Eddie. Any which way he does this, Eddie wakes up. And as soon as Eddie wakes up, Eddie’s going to feel Buck’s fucking boner soaking a patch through his boxers all over Eddie’s bare skin.

“Fuck,” he whispers again. He tries to shift his body minutely, just so his dick isn’t digging into Eddie the way it currently so aggressively is, but Eddie’s got his arms wrapped around Buck, holding him tightly to his body even in sleep.

What the movement does make him realise, with a miserable little twist in his stomach, is that Eddie’s hard as well. The fact that he’s not wearing a stitch of clothing makes it even more apparent, cock a hard line beside Buck’s own. Still, this is just—morning wood, he’s not drooling bodily fluids over Buck, however unintentionally.

Okay. Maybe if Buck can get halfway up, he can flee this sleeping bag cocoon before Eddie realises the stickiness on his body is not from his own dick. It’s not that he thinks Eddie will be mad, or even grossed out—God, no one, with the exception of maybe Maddie, loves him as unconditionally as Eddie. It’ll just be humiliating as fuck, and Buck has to spend the rest of the weekend with him, so he—he needs a moment to escape and collect himself.

He braces his hands on the floor of the tent, on either side of Eddie’s head, lifting his body slightly off Eddie’s. Eddie’s grip on him loosens, and, for a second, Buck thinks he’s safe.

Then Eddie says, “Mm, Buck,” and slides his hands down Buck’s spine, slipping them both underneath the waistband of his boxers and gently palming the swell of his ass. He uses the movement to pull Buck flush against him again, canting his hips up at the friction of Buck’s clothed cock against his own.

Buck is—frozen. He’s just—his brain isn’t working. Eddie’s not thinking about someone else, Eddie’s not thinking about an ex, or a woman, Eddie said Buck’s name. Is he—is he even awake?

“Eddie?” he whispers.

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, slow at first and then widening in horror. He tries to scramble back, except there’s nowhere to go, so he ends up scrabbling against Buck’s chest, shoving him half-off himself.

“Oh my God,” he says. “Buck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—fuck, I’m so sorry.”

Buck ignores him. “What did you mean by ‘mm, Buck’?”

Eddie blinks at him, looking as comfortable as an animal in a trap. And, okay. He’s just woken up naked with someone on top of him. Buck should give some grace time to be a person, but—he said Buck.

“Eddie?” he asks, taking the biggest risk of his life and rolling back on top of him, feeling his bare cock drag against the wet patch on the front of Buck’s boxers. “Were you… dreaming about me?”

“I—” Eddie starts, then swallows, a dry sound. “N-no. I don’t think so.”

Buck feels his heart plummet. Eddie doesn’t look like he’s lying, maintaining nervous but steady eye contact with him. Okay, but—he said Buck.

“You said my name,” Buck murmurs, hand braced on the ground as he looks down at Eddie. “So just… when you woke up?”

“Um,” Eddie swallows again. “Yeah, I guess I just—while I was waking up—forgot what was actually—” He cuts himself off and looks away from Buck for the first time since waking, staring resolutely at a spot on the tent wall.

“Oh,” Buck says, and tries to sit up. Unsuccessfully, because they’re zipped together in a Frankensteined sleeping bag and there’s no room to do that. He considers his options for all of five seconds before carefully lowering himself, laying his body flat on top of Eddie’s once more.

Eddie blinks, like he wasn’t expecting Buck to blanket his body with his own again, and turns to face Buck.

“I’ve, uh. I’ve never, uh. I don’t think I’ve ever been the first thing someone thinks of when they wake up,” Buck tells him.

Eddie swallows a third time, squeezing his eyes shut even as his hands tentatively find Buck’s waist.

“When I wake up,” he whispers. “When I’m falling asleep. It’s only ever you.”

Buck’s inhale is wobbly enough that it has Eddie opening his eyes, looking up at Buck, soft brown of them a revelation from this close.

“First thing,” he says, firmer. “Last thing. Plenty in between.”

When Buck kisses him, it’s a shaky, newborn thing, a foal finding its legs. Damp and sticky as it gets its footing, stumbling and tripping and then, all at once, a flat-out sprint. This joyous frolicking feeling, like his heart is a creature learning what life can look like without fences, because Eddie’s cradling his face between his hands as his tongue traces the inside of Buck’s mouth, warm and gentle.

Buck, for his part, lets every pent-up emotion inside him pour out, kissing him hard and deep. Said emotions are predominantly love and adoration and general besottedness, but there’s a heavy heaping of lust in there too.

He rocks his hips down against Eddie’s and Eddie shudders against him, so different from last night, his body now trembling with the effort not to roll his hips up, grind against Buck.

“Buck,” he whispers into Buck’s mouth, hands travelling down his back again to squeeze his ass through his boxers. “Buck.”

Buck kisses his mouth, kisses behind his ear, kisses his neck. He grinds down against Eddie, leaking even more precome between them.

“Is that—fuck,” Eddie groans, wrapping a leg around Buck’s waist. “Your boxers are soaked. Is that all you? Just from this?”

“No,” Buck breathes. “Woke up already like this. Just—this is just from being close to you.”

Eddie makes a ragged, pleading noise, pulling Buck in for another kiss. “Buck, I—I need to—”

“What? Tell me, tell me, anything.”

“Dad?” Chris calls. “Buck? We’re hungry, can we open the bear box?”

Eddie freezes beneath Buck, and Buck thanks every lucky star out there that Chris’s voice is faint enough that he’s shouting from near his own tent, far enough away not to have heard anything he can’t unhear.

With great difficulty, he peels himself off Eddie, calling back, “Give us ten minutes, bud! We’ll be out soon.”

“Ten minutes?” Eddie whispers with a frown. “He’s not gonna buy that it takes us ten minutes to get dressed.”

“I’m not going out there while my dick’s still hard,” Buck says. “You are welcome to.”

Eddie scowls, and Buck has to kiss him, which is not conducive to the banishing of boners, so he makes himself unzip the sleeping bag and crawl to the opposite corner of the tent, retrieving his sweats.

“Stay there,” he warns Eddie when he sits up, naked and beautiful. “Fuck, actually, no, I can’t even look at you, fuck, will you put some fucking clothes on—” He slaps a hand over his eyes, grinning as Eddie laughs at him and reaches for his own clothes.

“I’m decent,” Eddie promises, and Buck peeks out at him between his fingers.

“Nothing about you is decent,” Buck informs him. “You live in a house with mirrors, right?”

Eddie snorts. “You’re the biggest drama queen I know, you know that?”

“Hey,” Buck says, “I can’t take that crown from you.”

“What can you take from me?” Eddie asks, glint in his eye, and Buck says, “Nope!” and rips open the tent zipper, lunging outside and hoping to God his dick has calmed down. Eddie’s laughter rings loudly behind him, and he smiles all the way to the food box, ferrying back their sandwich-making ingredients.

The boys want to see the lake, insist on it, so they all get ready and pack a little picnic basket to have breakfast along the shore.

“No going on the dock or near the boat,” Eddie says firmly. “And no one goes in the water unless Buck or I are within sight, okay?”

Both kids pout at that.

“We know how to swim, Dad,” Chris huffs.

“Not the point, mijo,” Eddie says. “We don’t know anything about this lake, and we’re not taking any chances, okay?”

“Fine, okay.”

“Hey, bud, don’t forget the towels, though. Me and your dad can enjoy some of this sunshine while you both swim,” Buck says, easy-going cop to Eddie’s sensible one. “I’ll make you guys my Belly Buster sandwiches while you work up an appetite.”

“Cool,” Chris grins, appeased. To Nick, he says, “Buck’s Belly Busters are insane, you wouldn’t think peanut butter and pickles go together but it just works.”

Nick wrinkles his nose but obligingly takes the picnic basket from Eddie.

“Alright, we’re right behind you,” Eddie says. “It’s a direct path to the lake. Put on sunscreen, stay on the shore, don’t go—”

“—in the water till you’re there, we know,” Chris rolls his eyes, shouldering the bag with towels so he can manoeuvre his crutches more easily. “Don’t take forever.”

They watch the boys head into the forest, Eddie with his hands on his hips.

“It’s not just me, right? That kid is getting saucier by the day.”

“Saucier?” Buck snorts. “Okay, Abuela.” He ducks out of the way when Eddie snaps his own towel at him, laughing. “Sorry, sorry, it’s not my fault you use adjectives like a pensioner from Florida.”

“I’m telling Abuela about that comparison,” Eddie says faux-huffily, striding into the woods. “See if she gives you that tamale sauce recipe now.”

“You wouldn’t,” Buck says, dismay only partly pretend as he jogs after him. “Who’ll make you tamales when she’s in Texas then, huh, Eddie? You wouldn’t shoot yourself in the foot like that.”

“I’ll shoot you in the foot,” Eddie mutters darkly.

Buck says, “What was that?” all cheek and half-charm, and Eddie stops, whirling around on this dusty forest path to face him. He steps into Buck’s space, making him take a step back, and then another, and another, until he’s well off the trail and his back hits the trunk of a broad ash tree.

“What?” he says, only slightly nervous. It’s all anticipation anyway. “What were you saying?”

“What I was saying,” Eddie drops the bag he’s carrying, “before I was interrupted this morning—”

“This morning?” Buck interrupts.

“This morning,” Eddie nods, “and just now, because you’re being mouthy as fuck—”

Buck feels a shiver of delight race up his spine at that, at Eddie’s acknowledgement of his silly brattiness, in this way Buck’s played around with before but never with such a rush—never with this delicious curl of warmth in his gut. Less the disobedience and being told he’s bad and much, much more the instruction and being told how to be good.

Eddie brackets him between his arms, both hands braced on the tree trunk on either side of Buck’s head, seeming taller than his two inches below Buck right now.

“So,” Buck mumbles, eyes on Eddie’s mouth, “you were saying?”

Eddie’s lips curve up into an amused smile, and he steps in even closer, crowding Buck against the tree.

“I was saying,” he says, breath hot on Buck’s face, “that I needed to tell you—” He drops a gentle, dry kiss to Buck’s mouth, ignores Buck’s attempt to chase his lips, “—that whatever happens, whatever we, uh, do—” His nose brushes Buck’s gently, “—I love you. Okay?”

“Oh,” Buck breathes, and it’s like he’s doing it for the first time. The taste of it all is new: the leaves, the crisp air in his lungs, the goddamn oxygen itself—it’s suddenly this marvel of life, a flavour he didn’t know he was missing. “Eddie—” He tugs him back in for a proper kiss, muffling his name against his mouth.

It’s not that it’s been lacking from his life; he’s known, all this time, that Eddie loves him. That’s not a revelation. And sure, the fact that the way Eddie loves him is different than he assumed, is the same way that Buck loves him? That’s world-altering, yes. But even aside from that, even just knowing Eddie’s loved him, platonic or not—in six years, Buck’s never heard him say it.

And to be fair, it’s not like Buck’s said it either. And neither of them are shy about the words, using them habitually with Chris and their respective family members—Eddie’s even been saying it to his dad more often than not—so it’s not some repressed masculinity thing.

Buck wonders, for a second, if the reason then, that neither of them has said these three words to the other, innocuous and in place with everything about their friendship, is because—they didn’t want to say it one way and have it heard another. How that might be a different, private kind of heartbreak.

Now, he kisses Eddie again. Now, he tells him, “I love you,” and knows it’s heard exactly how he means it, and the only thing his heart does is glow, bright enough to power an entire solar system.

Eddie presses his forehead to Buck’s, breath warm against his face.

“Tell me again?” Buck asks, feeling needy but also like there’s no place for shame here.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I love you.”

Buck closes his eyes. “And again?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “I love you.”

“One more time?”

Eddie presses a kiss to Buck’s left eyelid. “I love you.”

Kiss to the right. “I love you.”

Apple of his cheek. “I love you.”

Dimple on the other side. “I love you.”

He stops, hovering over Buck’s mouth, lips just barely brushing. “Buck?”

Buck opens his eyes.

“I love you,” Eddie tells him, and Buck surges forward, cradling Eddie’s face in his hands as he kisses him deep, slides his tongue against Eddie’s, licks into his mouth in every way he knows how.

It’s good, if the muffled moan Eddie makes is any indication, and Buck slips his hands down to his waist, using his strength and extensive first responder training—so handy this weekend—to flip them around, shoving Eddie against the tree and pinning him there with his own body.

Eddie grunts in surprise, hands coming up to Buck’s shoulders.

“Fuck,” he says, raking his eyes up and down Buck’s body like he’s seeing it for the first time. “Fuck, that was—you’re so—fuck.”

He grabs Buck’s hips, yanking him closer so he can grind against him. Buck can feel his cock through his khaki shorts, half-hard already where it presses insistently against Buck.

“Eddie,” he says, “can I—”

“Anything, yeah,” Eddie breathes, kissing him again.

Buck drops to his knees.

“Oh, God,” Eddie says, sounding strangled. “Now?”

“Please.” Buck reaches for the button of Eddie’s shorts, pausing until he gets the green light.

Eddie peers down the path to the lake. They’re fairly out of sight, tucked between several trees, but if either of the kids or anyone else were to walk directly past, they’d be seen. Still, people are noisy, and they have a clear enough view to put their dicks away if anybody came into sight.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “This is such a bad idea.”

Buck mouths at the outline of his cock through the cotton of his shorts. “Tell me to stop.”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Eddie sighs, running a hand through Buck’s hair. Buck pushes into the touch happily, eyes fluttering shut when Eddie scratches his nails across Buck’s scalp. “Are you sure?”

Buck unzips Eddie’s shorts in lieu of an answer, tugging his boxers down to get his cock out. And listen, Buck’s not been up close and personal with many dicks, and there is the inherent bias of being in love, but Eddie has the prettiest cock he’s ever seen. It’s flushed pink and nearly fully hard, weeping slightly at the tip.

Buck braces his hands on Eddie’s hips and runs the flat of his tongue over the head of his cock, collecting every lick of precome he can. Eddie shudders under his touch, hands weaving tight into his hair and holding him there.

“Fuck,” he says, and Buck looks up. He’s looking at Buck with something like reverence, and Buck might not have a lot of practice with this, but he thinks if he’s being looked at this way, there’s not a lot that can go wrong.

So he waits a second, allowing spit to collect in his mouth, and then lets it drool over the head of Eddie’s cock, slow and wet.

“Fuck,” Eddie says again, half-moaning, and Buck sucks the end of his cock into his mouth, cheeks hollowed as he works down as much as he can comfortably manage. He pulls off for a second, just to spit into his palm before he’s sucking Eddie down again, saliva-slick hand jerking the part of Eddie’s cock not in his mouth.

“Buck,” Eddie sighs, hands tightening and loosening their grip on his hair. “Oh, shit—”

Buck slips off Eddie’s cock, only to suck his balls into his mouth, one after another, rolling them on his tongue. Eddie’s cock blurts precome, smearing messily against Buck’s cheek as it does. One hand unwinds itself from Buck’s hair, thumb wiping the wetness from Buck’s face and offering it to him. He sucks on it happily, moaning when Eddie presses down on his tongue.

“You’re unreal,” Eddie breathes above him. “Fuck, I’m not gonna—”

Buck sucks him down again, hand pumping fast. He tries to fit as much of Eddie as possible into his mouth, overextending and gagging a little, but refusing to pull off, letting his eyes water with the effort instead. Eddie smells—strong, down here, God, this thick, heavy scent that’s half his own musk and half from not showering in over a day—the dip in the lake probably didn’t help—and Buck’s never really examined this particular turn-on besides knowing he likes the way his partner smells, but this—God. He thinks his eyes might roll back into his skull as he tries to press his nose against Eddie’s pubic bone, smell even stronger in the thatch of hair here.

“Buck,” Eddie sighs again, and Buck looks up at him, blurry through the tears. He’s blissed out, looking at Buck with such simple adoration that Buck has to use his other hand to press firmly against his own crotch, relieve the ache in his own cock.

He pulls back, tonguing firmly at the slit, happily lapping up everything Eddie’s leaking, and Eddie quivers underneath Buck’s hands, moaning softly when Buck goes back to sucking him off with enthusiasm, thumb wiping away the tears falling every time Buck chokes.

“Buck, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come,” Eddie says, cupping Buck’s cheek. “Where d’you want me to—?”

Buck pulls off, just to request a hoarse, “Face?”

Eddie shuts his eyes, hips jolting forward even though Buck’s not got his cock in his mouth right now. “We’re—baby, we gotta go see the kids in a few minutes. There’s nowhere for you to wash—fuck.”

“Fine,” Buck says, voice rasping. Baby. He could get used to that. “In my mouth, then.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker open when Buck taps the head of his cock on the flat of his tongue, hand jerking Eddie quick and dirty as he goes back to suckling on the head.

“Fuck,” he says, hand tangling itself in Buck’s hair again. Buck moans around his cock, and Eddie gives his curls another little tug. “Fuck, shit, oh my God—”

He groans, breathy and deep, and Buck’s mouth is flooded with liquid heat. He swallows eagerly, lips still wrapped around the tip of Eddie’s cock, laving his tongue across the head over and over until Eddie’s shuddering from the oversensitivity.

He leans back, sagging against the tree as he tucks himself back into his shorts, spit-slick.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, looking down at Buck. “Have you—have you ever done that before?”

“Yeah,” Buck admits, voice rough. “Once. With, uh, Tommy.”

It had been about a month ago, the first and last time he slept with a guy. They’d had drinks and Tommy’d driven him home and Buck liked his laugh and how deep it was and the way it didn’t seem mean even when it was at Buck’s expense. He’d invited him up, and they’d put on a movie for plausible deniability, but Buck had his tongue in Tommy’s mouth well before the title card was even on screen.

It was a bit of a fumble past that, but the kind with lots of laughter and okay, let me try that agains. He’d sucked Tommy off, and then fucked him, and then gone downstairs for a glass of water and his eyes had caught on the photo of him, Chris, and Eddie on the fridge and he’d just had to—sit down right there on the kitchen floor.

Tommy had found him ten minutes later and thought he was having a gay freakout and tried to be as kind as possible until Buck had managed to articulate that the freakout wasn’t of the gay variety, per se—it was of the best friend kind, and happened to be gay only incidentally. Tommy’s face had cleared and his sympathy hadn’t lessened, and he’d let Buck stumble over words trying to sort out the tangle in his head.

Now, above him, Eddie’s got a look on his face that’s familiar but not instantly placeable. Then Buck realises—it’s the same face he’d make whenever Buck would tell him he couldn’t hang out because he had plans with Taylor. It’s jealousy.

“Right,” he says to Buck. “Tommy. You guys—?”

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Uh, one time.”

“Cool,” Eddie says, nodding too hard. “Was he, um. Was he nice to you?” He immediately cringes at himself, shutting his eyes.

Buck laughs. “Yeah, Eddie. He was nice to me. The single time I sucked his dick. Are you jealous?”

“No,” Eddie huffs. “Unrelatedly, come here so I can kiss you.”

Eddie hauls him to his feet and kisses him like a man possessed, wild and messy as he holds Buck’s face and sucks on his lower lip. There’s spit running down Buck’s chin, and both of them taste kind of like come, but Eddie slots a thigh between Buck’s legs and bends his knee so it’s wedged firmly into his crotch, giving him the perfect pressure to grind against.

Eddie nudges his thigh even higher, forcing Buck to go on his tiptoes with every roll of his hips, forcing him to sit down heavily on it, the drag delicious as he rocks against it, cock drooling in his jeans.

Eddie seems just about to stick his hand down Buck’s pants, fingers going to his button, but then Buck whimpers, humping forward desperately, forehead falling onto Eddie’s shoulder as he grinds down.

“Fuck,” Eddie says, voice nearly as rough as Buck’s. “Can you—do you think you can come just like this?”

“W-what?” Buck asks, slowing the roll of his hips. “I—uh. Do you want me to?”

He lifts his head to look Eddie in the eye, searching. He’ll agree to just about anything Eddie asks of him, that’s not a problem, he just needs to make sure—Eddie’s not having his own gay freakout, for real.

His expression must give some of that away, because Eddie softens, tilting Buck’s chin up with one finger to kiss him gently.

“I, uh. Don’t think my, um. Abilities. Will hold up to anything you’ve had before, considering, um. I’ve never done this before. And, uh. Kinda wanna take my time with it. With you. For the first time that I, um. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course that’s okay.” Buck kisses him again.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, “I want to make you feel good, I just—don’t know if it’ll, you know, in comparison to—”

“It’s not a competition,” Buck interrupts him, pressing their foreheads together. “And if it was, you’d win anyway. On account of me being in love with you. So any blowjob you give me is automatically the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten.”

Eddie snorts, warm in Buck’s face. “Now that’s just not true.”

“Yes, it is,” Buck insists. “Tommy could’ve been the most talented lay I’ve ever had and he still wouldn’t—oh my God, Eddie, you really don’t like him, huh?” He laughs at the scowl on Eddie’s face.

“I have nothing against him,” Eddie says shortly, hands going back to Buck’s hips, urging him to move again. “Perfectly nice guy.”

“What d’you want me to tell you?” Buck says, breathless when the friction of his jeans is just the right side of too much on his cock. “That five minutes after he stopped touching me, I realised the only person I ever wanted to touch me like that again is you? That I left him in my bed and spent every day since wishing I’d known it was you sooner? That I’m glad he was nice—because he was nice—but I’m also glad he didn’t fuck me, because now I get to have that first with you?”

Eddie makes a hoarse, broken sound, pulling Buck close, teeth digging into his neck as he sucks a mark over his pulse point.

Buck rocks against his leg desperately, breaths coming shallow when he says, “Because all of that is true. All I want is you.”

“You have me,” Eddie says, and works a hand between them, cupping Buck roughly through his jeans. “And I’m the only one who gets to have you like this. The only one who gets to see you like this—doing this, right out here, so desperate to get me off you’re on your knees where anyone could see. So desperate to get off you’ll take it whatever way I tell you to.”

Buck whimpers, grinding against the firm pressure of Eddie’s palm.

The sharp pain where Eddie’s running his teeth over the bruise he’s sucked into Buck’s neck just elevates the blinding pleasure building steadily, and Buck rocks against the hard muscle of his thigh with brain-addled desperation, so nearly there.

“You’re so good,” Eddie murmurs, kissing the tender skin on his neck. “You’re so good for me, and I get to keep you.”

Buck comes, so hard his vision goes dark in the periphery, spotted with starbursts like some kind of romance novel fireworks. His hips stutter against Eddie’s thigh, face tucked into the crook of his neck as he rides it out. Eddie’s arms around him are the only thing keeping him upright, only thing keeping him steady, only thing tethering him to this plane of existence.

A large hand strokes down his spine, a soothing, repetitive movement until he’s able to lift his head.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees.

“I haven’t come in my pants since I was—not for a long time.”

“Yeah, you should definitely get changed before coming to the lake,” Eddie says, kissing him softly. “Go on, I’ll meet you there. Don’t want the boys to come looking for us.”

“Okay,” Buck says, making no move to leave. He kisses Eddie again.

“We gotta go,” Eddie mumbles against his lips. “God knows what they’re getting up to.”

“Probably poking things with sticks.”

Eddie snorts. “Is that what you did as a teenager?”

Buck smiles against his mouth, interrupted by his stomach rumbling. “Oh no, I promised them Belly Busters.”

“You did,” Eddie agrees, separating their mouths with a smacking noise. “How ’bout you get clean pants and I’ll get started on them?”

“Fine, but you gotta remember the ratio of bacon to peanut butter. Don’t overdo it or it becomes gross.”

“Yeah, that’s what makes it gross,” Eddie mutters good-naturedly, shoving Buck in the general direction of the campsite. “Go on, I’ll see you in ten.”

He jogs away down the trail, peering back over his shoulder and grinning wide when he sees Buck still watching him.

“Hurry up!” he shouts, flapping a hand encouragingly. “Or I won’t let you put sunscreen on my back!”

Buck grins back, incentive enough to jog the opposite way, back to the campsite. His jeans feel fucking awful, come drying tacky and disgusting. He peels off both his jeans and boxers and sluices himself down with a bottle of water behind their tent, grateful it washes out quickly and he doesn’t have to deal with matted pubes.

He’s brisk about it, speed-walking down the path to the lake in no time, dressed in clean shorts and feeling glad he’s such a thorough packer, even if his foresight to bring extra clothes didn’t hinge on a scenario where they were rendered unwearable by comestains.

The trail opening up to the lake is so much more striking in the daylight, water glittering a hundred shades of blue under the sun. Chris and Nick are goofing off in the shallows, laughing and splashing each other playfully. On the shore, Eddie’s sat shirtless on a picnic blanket, half-buttered slices of bread before him as he carefully considers the jar of peanut butter.

The sun isn’t high in the sky, but it’s painting the lake silver and everything else gold. Eddie’s bare shoulders are honey-brown, muscles in his back rippling when he hunches over, hair catching the light as the gentle breeze ruffles it.

He’s haloed in sunbeams, would be even if Buck wasn’t looking at him with love tinting everything, but not in a way that paints him as something angelic, ethereal, otherworldly. He’s warm skin and smile wrinkles and kind hands, inescapably human and wonderfully real and reaching for Buck, now, shading his eyes and beckoning him over.

And Buck sits, rubbing sunscreen into Eddie’s shoulders and kissing peanut butter off the corner of his mouth and muffling laughter into his neck, quick and sneaky when the kids aren’t watching, and thinks that for every new way he’s gotten to touch Eddie in the last 12 hours, there’s an old one just as intimate, just as trusting, just as foundational. A little quieter, maybe, but now Eddie’s carefully brushing sand out of his leg hair, just for the sake of it, and Buck knows, knows it like a truth of the universe, whatever happens, they’re never going to stop holding each other when it matters.