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“I don’t know, Hen,” Buck is saying over the noise of the crowd. “He just… checked out. I thought things were going well, you know, and he, he -”
Eddie doesn’t catch Hen’s response. The bar is far too loud, and of the two of them, Buck is the one facing him, thought he can’t see much due to Hen and two other people standing between them. He’s, well, Eddie would say he’s sprawled on the barstool, thighs spread and taking up an obscene amount of space, because no one can argue that he isn’t 80% leg, but the way his shoulders are hunched and the downturned curve of his mouth somehow manage to make him look smaller.
Hen’s response isn’t audible, but she sounds contrite, pool cue in one hand and hip cocked to the side, patting Buck’s shoulder with the other hand.
Eddie makes a decision.
“What can I getcha?” The bartender asks, somewhat impatiently. Possibly they’ve tried to get his attention a few times already, but Eddie’s been distracted, okay?
“Something for my friend,” Eddie tells them, casting another glance to the side. “He’s… not having the best day.”
“Ah,” the bartender softens, nodding with a knowing expression. They’re gorgeous, dark curly hair cropped short, smoky eye makeup and red lipstick, grinning brightly, multiple piercings glinting in the dim light. “Got dumped, I’m guessing?”
Eddie bites his lip, considering. “Do you, um. He’s bi. And I heard somewhere it’s like… awareness week for that, or something? Do you have a drink for that? He’s big into fruity cocktails when he’s not at home.”
The bartender’s green eyes light up. “Yeah! We’ve got one on special, for the whole week, actually.” They tap a picture on the front of a drink menu propped up on the bar, labelled bi-namite. “It’s half an ounce of blue curacao, half an ounce of blackberry brandy, and half an ounce of raspberry schnapps.”
Eddie laughs. “That’s… yeah. Sounds like something he’d love. Thanks.” Buck will get a kick out of the layered colors, for sure.
As the bartender makes the drink, Eddie casts another glance to the side. He just. He doesn’t fucking get it, is all. Buck had been pretty happy with Tommy, by all accounts, and then one day, Buck had shown up to work, dejected and withdrawn, and had muttered to Eddie that they’d broken up and no, he didn’t want to talk about it.
In Eddie’s opinion, Tommy’s stupid and doesn’t deserve Buck anyway. He didn’t appreciate Buck’s enthusiasm for trivia or his eagerness to try new things. And he made Buck sad, which in Eddie’s book is completely unforgivable, so he hasn’t returned any of Tommy’s texts since Buck told him about the breakup.
It’s just… it’s Buck. Buck, who has the biggest, most generous heart of anyone Eddie knows. Buck, who has a smile that lights up a room and can instantly make anyone feel at ease. Buck, who gives pieces of himself away to everyone he meets. Buck, who loves wholly and unashamedly with everything he has.
“Here you go!” The bartender chirps, sliding the drink over. Eddie hands them a bill.
“Keep it,” he says, flashing an appreciative smile. “Thanks.” When he grabs the drink and turns, he realizes Hen’s gone, back into her terrifyingly intense game of pool with Chim a few feet away, and Buck is being flirted with by a short, compact guy with his hair pulled back into a messy bun.
As Eddie watches, Buck gives a half-hearted attempt at a smile and shakes his head, and the guy departs. It’s not the first time he’s been approached tonight. Eddie thinks this might be the third person to engage him, but Buck has made it clear that’s not what he’s looking for tonight.
Finally he sidles closer, offering up a grin. “Hey. Got you something.”
”Hmm?” Buck hums, not making eye contact. He’s busy watching Hen whooping and accepting Chim’s money.
“A drink?” Eddie tries, holding it out. “It’s, um, called a -”
“Oh my god.” Abruptly, Buck sounds delighted. “Eddie, what is that?” He takes the drink, carefully tilting it this way and that, watching the colors swirl and sniffing the top.
Eddie repeats the ingredients that the bartender had told him. “They called it bi-namite. It’s, well, I’m sure you already know, cause, you already. Yeah. But it’s bisexual awareness week, apparently, and it was on special, and I thought. Yeah. Maybe you’d like it.” He’s flushing red with embarrassment, skin itchy with heat and something else he’s not sure he wants to examine too closely. His fingers twitch with the urge to fidget, and he shoves them in his pockets awkwardly, shifting from side to side. What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s just Buck.
“Eddie.” Buck stares at him with wide, imploring eyes.
Eddie can’t look at him. “I don’t know.” His heart is thumping really fast, which is ridiculous. “You should try it.”
Buck drinks it. “That was awesome. Eddie,” he repeats, laser-focused. “I cannot believe you knew about that.”
Eddie shifts again and swallows. “I’m trying to be supportive,” he murmurs. “You’re important to me.”
“I thought… I don’t know. I thought. I was beginning to think, maybe. Maybe I’m just… hard to love?” Buck sets the glass on the counter behind him without looking. “I’m trying to be kinder to myself, because I’m not… Like I know I have good qualities. And like, I know you guys love me, I do. But I talk too much when I get excited, and I overshare, and I’m not very relaxed, and that’s not, not everyone likes that. So sometimes I can’t help but think -”
“No.”
The word flies out of Eddie’s mouth before he can stop it.
Buck blinks at him, startled. “Um.”
Eddie breathes very carefully, and tries not to panic. “You’re not hard to love. You’re easy to love. I don’t know why everyone who’s ever met you isn’t in love with you.”
Oh, shit, things keep coming out, and Eddie realizes he wasn’t even aware that he thought some of them until he says them, spilling over each other faster and faster until he sounds like Buck on a tangent.
“You’re sweet and thoughtful and kind and funny. You treat people with respect, and you care so much, and you’re selfless, and the best friend I could ever hope to have and -” Eddie cuts himself off, staring back at Buck with equally wide eyes.
“- and I think I’ve been trying not to fall in love with you since I met you.”
Buck’s mouth drops open.
“You. What.”
Yeah, that, Eddie thinks hysterically. What.
He takes in Buck’s reddened mouth, his matching birthmark. The pile of messy curls sitting atop his head, his vibrant blue eyes. The way his shoulders fill out the chest and sleeves of his t-shirt, the thickness of his thighs wrapped in denim. The sweet smile that’s starting to creep over his face, one hand rubbing at the side of his jaw, stubble rasping beneath his palm.
“Holy shit,” Eddie says. “I love you?”
“Eddie, what. What are you saying?” Buck demands, kind of wildly, folding his arms over his chest like he’s trying to protect himself. “Are you trying to make me feel better or something? Because this isn’t. It’s not funny.”
“No, I - Buck. Just. Come here.” It’s like he’s being driven on autopilot, the way Eddie nonsensically steps forward, right between Buck’s bent knees, the balls of his feet balanced on the bar stool rungs. It’s imperative, suddenly, that Buck knows he is far from joking. He may be very, very behind in his own brain right now, and desperately trying to keep up in a way that looks impulsive and reckless, but Buck needs to know. Right now.
With their positions, Buck is shorter than he is, and it leaves him with his chin tilted up slightly as Eddie unmistakably enters his personal space. His eyelashes look like they’re tinted gold in this light, cheekbones shining a little from the heat, and Eddie slips one hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in.
Buck makes a tiny, helpless sound into his mouth and melts into him, curling one hand around Eddie’s belt buckle for support, and Eddie wonders hazily how he’s ever going to want to do anything other than kiss Evan Buckley for the rest of his life.
He nudges Buck’s cheek with his nose to adjust, and shudders at the warm, slick slide of their lips together. Buck licks into his mouth, greedy, claiming, nearly making his knees buckle.
That’s when someone stumbles into them, knocking Eddie off-balance, and they end up staring at each other again, shocked.
“I -” Buck says. He’s touching his mouth.
Eddie’s heart drops somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. “I meant it. I mean it.”
“Should we talk, maybe?” Buck says, at the same time.
Eddie needs him to stop looking like he’s expecting Eddie to take it back any second, so he blurts out, “I love you.”
Buck ducks his head, blushing. “Okay, but. Since when?” He sounds, understandably, baffled.
“Right now. Years ago? I don’t know, Buck, just.” Eddie snags the hand on his belt and threads their fingers together, squeezing. “I couldn’t let another second go by with you thinking you weren’t… You are so important to me. You’re my favourite person in the world. My favourite adult person. I don’t want to do anything without you, do you know that?”
“Um. I believe you.”
He can feel the heat from Buck’s thighs bleeding through their jeans and it’s honestly making him a little dizzy. “Come home with me.”
“Eddie.”
“See, that is not helping,” Eddie tells him. “You say my name, and. And I can’t breathe right.” His chest is tight and his heart is still hammering inside of it and he wants Buck closer.
Buck grins at him. “We shouldn’t,” he says. “We’ve been drinking.”
“Not to have sex. We can talk, and -”
“Cuddle?”
Eddie pictures Buck beside him in bed, his big hand splayed over Eddie’s stomach, nose tucked into the curve of his throat, and - yeah. Okay. Cuddle.
“Yes.”
Buck looks down at their joined hands.
“I won’t take it back,” Eddie reassures him. “Please come home with me?”
“Okay.” With that, Buck stands, taller once more, but doesn’t let go of his hand. “But before we go. Would you… Kiss me again, maybe?”
And Eddie happily does.