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“Did you know that kissing is good for you?”
Buck asks the question out of absolutely nowhere, and Eddie blinks as he tries to process the words. To be fair, it’s barely seven in the morning — on their day off, after Eddie’s night on the couch — and he’s yet to have the coffee that typically kicks his brain into action.
Also, what?
“Buck,” he says, rubbing at his eyes. “What?”
Buck looks up from his spot at the kitchen table, his mouth quirking into a lazy smile when he takes Eddie in. For some reason, it’s a smile that has Eddie’s heart kicking up a notch, but that’s probably just his body being weird. He only just woke up, in his defence.
“I just read about it,” Buck says, holding up his phone, which at least gives some sort of context for this fact. He’s always getting random things on his algorithm: the symbiotic relationship between coyotes and badgers, the Antwerp Diamond Heist, theories about the Bermuda Triangle. Today, it’s the benefits of kissing. “It releases a bunch of hormones that make you happy, and can reduce stress and anxiety. And because it dilates your blood vessels, it can even help with cramps and headaches. Isn’t that so cool?”
His face is all lit up now, that way he gets when he’s excited to share something he’s learnt, and Eddie can’t help but smile.
“Very cool,” he agrees, because even though he’s never really thought about the health benefits of kissing, he always loves listening to Buck when he’s discovered something new. “Want another coffee?”
“Can you put the — ”
“Yeah, yeah. The caramel syrup. Buck, I know.”
Buck’s smile is sheepish but undeniably pleased, and it’s normal okay, that Eddie’s heart does that thing again. He’s still just getting used to it, seeing Buck like this, all soft from sleep, his curls a mess and his eyes crinkled, the big, grey hoodie he loves sitting cosily on his very broad form.
Not that Eddie hasn’t seem him like this plenty already, because he has, of course. Both in and out of work.
But it’s different when they’re living together. When Buck’s in Eddie’s house — or maybe Eddie’s in Buck’s, he’s not quite sure.
Regardless, it’s different.
Which is why his heart’s doing all that.
Obviously.
Buck’s fun fact gets tucked away in Eddie’s mind as he pads over to the damn Hildy to make their coffees, letting Buck’s voice wash over him as he catches Eddie up on last night’s babysitting adventures with Jee-Yun, which is why he’s got absolutely no reason to think it’s related to Buck’s comment several hours later, as they’re sorting through a truly perplexing amount of laundry.
“I just think it’s unfair,” Buck says out of nowhere, adding a third apron to the kitchen pile.
Eddie’s trying to find the pair of a sock he’s not even sure is his or Buck’s or Chris’s at this point. “What’s unfair?” He asks absently, grinning in victory when he spots it in the sea of other odd socks.
“That I’m not reaping the benefits of kissing,” Buck says like it’s obvious, and when Eddie glances up, it’s to find Buck pouting. “Like, okay, I’m single,” he continues, taking the pair of socks from Eddie and putting them in the pile for Chris, barely needing to look. “That already sucks. Now my lack of love life is literally killing me?”
Eddie huffs an amused laugh. “I think you’re extrapolating a bit there, bud.”
Buck frowns. “Barely. I could die of stress, Eddie. We have very stressful jobs, as you know. And everyone on our team seems to try their best to die on, like, a yearly basis. And I have nobody to kiss that stress away!”
Eddie rolls his eyes, ignoring the way his stomach clenches at the direction this conversation seems to be going in.
Is Buck going to start dating again?
Eddie’s not sure why the thought of Buck and kissing and dating is so… unsettling.
Probably because Buck has such bad taste in kissing partners. Abby, Taylor, Tommy. It’s kind of funny how quickly Eddie realised that, actually, Tommy sucked. He seemed alright until the moment he started dating Buck, but then something about him just irked Eddie. Eddie was worried he was secretly homophobic, but his irritation all made sense when he found out how Tommy so unceremoniously dumped Buck six months into dating.
Only an idiot would choose to lose Buck.
“You gonna do anything about that?” He asks, which feels like a safer way to get the information he’s really after.
Buck shrugs, then shakes his head. “Probably not. The thought of dating is pretty daunting. Maddie thinks I should learn to be alone. Probably good advice, given the way things are going. It’s not like anybody’s exactly lining up to kiss me.”
Eddie’s not sure what possesses him to say it, but suddenly his mouth is moving, and, “I mean. I’ll kiss you,” he says.
There’s a beat of silence that follows, in which Eddie tries to convince himself that that wasn’t a weird thing for a straight man to say to his best friend. His best friend who is also a man, though not quite as straight.
Buck doesn’t seem quite as convinced about the normality of Eddie’s offer.
He goes still, eyes wide and surprised as he looks at Eddie over the top he was in the middle of folding. Then slowly — very slowly — he drops his hands, the top crumpling in his lap.
“Eddie, I’m not kissing you.”
“Why not?” Eddie asks, trying not to sound — or feel — offended, but seriously, what’s wrong with kissing him? He’s got great oral hygiene, and without sounding conceited, he knows he’s pretty attractive. He’s kissed three whole women in his life, and none of them ever issued any complaints.
Buck splutters, like Eddie’s question is even more baffling than his offer. “Because, because — because we’re friends!” He exclaims, and Eddie’s glad for a number of reasons that Chris is out seeing a movie with friends right now, and thus unable to overhear this conversation. “And you’re straight, and I’m a guy, and — do I really need to keep listing reasons?”
Eddie frowns. He’s not sure why he suddenly feels so strongly about this, but it’s probably his innate desire to help Buck out, in any way he can. Typically that’s talking him off a ledge, reassuring and reaffirming with his words, but it seems like more direct action is needed this time. Because this is obviously something Buck’s worried about, and, ironically, that worry will probably only serve to increase his stress. So if Eddie doesn’t kiss Buck, a vicious cycle will be created, and that would make Eddie a bad friend, wouldn’t it?, because he’d have the power to stop it.
So he’s being a good friend by offering this. It’s a health thing, really.
He cares about Buck’s health.
“Okay, but it doesn’t have to mean anything,” Eddie says, and for some reason, those words don’t sit quite right on his tongue, but he manages to push past it. “Like, we can just kiss. I don’t want you worried that you’re missing out on the benefits, Buck.”
Buck stares at him. “You’re serious.”
“As a tsunami.”
Buck lets out a startled half-laugh at that, but the joke seems to relax him. He considers Eddie for a long beat, his eyes gleaming that stunning blue that Eddie’s never quite appreciated the way he should. Eddie will never get tired of looking at Buck’s face, he realises.
Finally, Buck nods, coming to a decision.
“We’re not making out,” he says, and Eddie’s heart does that same flip as it did earlier in the day, because oh, Buck’s actually saying yes. This is happening.
“Okay.”
“And there’s a time limit. Ten seconds.”
“Gotcha.”
They’re both quiet for another long moment, and Eddie wonders whether Buck’s waiting him out, seeing whether he’ll crack and say just kidding, of course I’m not kissing you, Buck. But Eddie wasn’t joking. He is serious. He’s willing to platonically kiss Buck, for health reasons. Wants to, even. Because he’s a good friend.
Then, Buck’s putting the laundry on his lap away, and shuffling closer to Eddie on the couch, and suddenly, Eddie’s body’s warming right up, his heart growing quick in his chest. But that makes sense, given the proximity and anticipation. He can’t really remember feeling like this before kissing anyone before, but it’s probably just been a while, and he’s forgotten. And that excitement bubbling in his chest, that’s probably in recognition that this will be helping with his health, too. He hasn’t been actively stressed of late, not since he and Chris returned to LA — not since Buck opened his arms and his heart and his home back up to them — but Buck’s right; they do have stressful jobs, stressful lives.
So this will benefit Eddie, too.
He turns to face Buck properly on the couch, curling up one of his legs so his bent knee is resting on Buck’s thigh. Buck blinks a few times, like maybe he’s also affected by the proximity and anticipation, though Eddie knows for a fact that he’s been kissed far more recently than Eddie has.
“Okay,” Buck says after a moment, and his voice is low, a quality to it that has a shiver rolling up Eddie’s spine. “Last chance to back out, Eddie.”
Eddie doesn’t even respond. Just quirks a brow in something that feels almost like a dare, and then Buck’s doing that half-laugh again, his mouth tipping into a wry smile before he lifts a hand and rests it at Eddie’s jaw. Which is a good move, you know, objectively. Buck’s got large hands, strong and competent. Eddie’s seen what those hands can do at work.
Then, Buck inches forward, and so does Eddie, letting his eyes flutter closed as the space between them shrinks to nothing. And Eddie plans to count it out in his mind, because Buck seemed adamant about the time limit. Ten seconds. Ten Mississippis.
But then Buck’s lips touch his, and every thought in his brain promptly evaporates.
All that’s left is Buck’s mouth on his, gentle at first, and then pressing a little more firmly, and Eddie can’t help but sigh into it when they slot together, Buck sucking gently on his bottom lip, just a hint of wetness.
There’s no tongue. No making out, as promised.
Buck’s thumb brushes over Eddie’s jaw.
Their mouths slide again.
And then it’s over, Buck pulling away with a shaky exhale Eddie can feel against his still wet lips.
Eddie’s own breath feels like it’s caught in his chest.
Buck’s throat works, his eyes wide and, bizarrely, unsure. Like he doesn’t know that he’s kind of a master with his mouth.
So, “Wow. You’re a really good kisser, Buck,” Eddie says, because what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t reassure Buck about this?
Buck lets out a strangled sort of laugh, averting his gaze as he runs a hand through his curls, and Eddie has a sudden pang of regret that he didn’t try doing that during the kiss, because Buck’s hair looks particularly soft today.
“Thanks,” Buck says, and that sounds a little strangled, too, but then he’s shooting Eddie a smile that makes his chest melt with warmth, so there’s that. “So are you, Eds — Eddie.”
“Thanks,” Eddie echoes, and he can’t help but be pleased about that. Buck thinks he’s a good kisser! “So, did it help?”
“What? Oh, yeah — yep. Yes. Feeling healthier already.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
Eddie grins, giving Buck’s shoulder a squeeze — thumb finding that spot, his spot — before he turns back to the overflowing basket of laundry they’ve got left to fold.
He pulls out an LAFD tee, which by size alone he suspects is Buck’s, and if it weren’t an insane thing to do, he’d be tempted to bring it up to his nose and inhale to confirm. He doesn’t, but he does think about it. Buck’s smell, and Buck’s lips, and Buck’s presence. His heart is still beating quickly, and his chest feels warm and tingly, and oh, it’s those happy hormones that Buck was talking about.
Wow.
Kissing really is good for you.
+
The surprising thing is, Eddie kind of can’t stop thinking about it.
The kiss, that is.
He expects it to be something of a blip in his life, which is probably a ridiculous expectation in hindsight, because when has anything Buck-related been a blip to Eddie? Outside of Chimney’s bachelor party, he remembers pretty much everything about every single interaction they’ve had.
So it makes sense that he can’t stop thinking about it.
The kiss, that is.
But apparently, Buck can.
Because he doesn’t bring it up.
A day passes, and then a week, and then two, and Eddie finds that while his mind keeps going back to that afternoon on their couch, Buck appears to have move passed the whole thing entirely. He’s a little jumpy around Eddie, sure, but that’s probably because he’s still getting used to Eddie being back in his space.
Meanwhile, Eddie’s going kind of… crazy about the whole thing.
He catches himself staring at Buck’s mouth sometimes.
Buck’s got nice lips, and while Eddie’s never really thought about them before, he can’t help but notice them all the time now. They’re soft and full, the same colour as his birthmark, a dusty pink, and Eddie wonders whether, like his birthmark, they grow deeper in colour with exertion. He imagines they would after being more thoroughly kissed.
Which of course brings him right back to the kissing thing.
Because he’d gone into it with the idea that it’d be a one off, but the more he thinks about it, the less that actually makes sense. It’s like anything health related. Generally, you need consistency to reap the benefits. Like eating your greens or moving your body. Anything’s better than nothing, but getting into a routine is where the magic really happens.
So. You know.
He and Buck should probably kiss some more.
For their health.
It’s what he’s thinking about when Buck returns from a run one morning, just after Eddie’s gotten home from dropping Chris to school. He’s red and sweaty, breathing hard as he comes into the lounge room and strips off his top, and Eddie has to very actively not get distracted by the sight of Buck’s very broad and very firm and very bare chest.
“So, I was thinking,” he says, hoping he sounds more normal than he currently feels. Buck raises an expectant brow when he hesitates, and Eddie clears his throat. Right. He was thinking… “About the kiss.”
Buck’s eyes grow wide and surprised. “Um. Yeah. What about it?”
“Well, I just wondered whether we should do it again.”
Somehow, Buck looks even more surprised at that. “You want to kiss again?” He asks, voice a pitch higher than usual.
Eddie shrugs. His stomach is swooping for some reason — probably because this is such unfamiliar ground for him. He’s never had this type of conversation before, never propositioned someone like this. “I think it’d be good for us both,” he says, and now his cheeks are heating up, which is just absurd, because he’s a grown man, and talking about kissing shouldn’t make him blush. “I mean, I don’t really think I’ll start dating anyone any time soon, and I don’t want to miss out on the benefits of kissing, either. We do have very stressful jobs. Like you said.”
Buck looks at him for a long moment, and it’s a rare occasion that Eddie can’t get a read on him. “I didn’t think you’d take what I said so seriously,” he says eventually.
Eddie clears his throat. Actually, he cares very deeply about Buck’s health. “You were very compelling,” he says, instead. “And, um. A great kisser. Like I said when we — when we kissed. And I haven’t kissed anyone in a while, as you know. And it was — it was really nice to. To kiss you, I mean. Which is why I think we should do it. Again.”
“Eddie…”
“We don’t have to, of course,” Eddie rushes to say, because fuck, now he’s made it weird, like he’s so self-assured he can’t imagine Buck saying no to him. Or worse, than just because Buck likes to kiss men, he’d automatically like to kiss him. “I mean, I don’t mean to imply that you want to kiss me. I’m sure you don’t. But, just, you know… while we’re both single.”
“Eddie, it’s not that,” Buck says, and there’s something in the way he says it that has Eddie’s heart flipping in his chest. He’s not sure what Buck means by it, but it feels like overstepping to ask. “Kissing you would never be a — a hardship.”
“Okay…”
“Just. You realise that this is kind of a crazy proposition. Kissing… platonically. For our health.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he insists, because what else can he say? It wouldn’t be so crazy. “It’s just nice to kiss, you know? And healthy. Like you said.”
Buck nods slowly, brows furrowing like he’s trying to work through a complicated equation in his head.
Then, “Okay, so. What exactly were you thinking?”
And, well, Eddie hadn’t really gotten that far, honestly. Maybe he didn’t expect Buck to actually agree. Not that he has, but he seems to at least be considering the whole thing.
“We kiss once a day,” Eddie decides, because that sounds good, right?, if he’s conscious about consistency. And that would be easy enough to commit to: a daily kiss. Buck could even bring Eddie’s favourite clipboard back out, to keep track.
“Once a day,” Buck repeats, and he sounds a little out of breath now, but he has just returned from a run, so that makes sense. “Okay. But we’re sticking with the ten second thing. And no tongue. That doesn’t feel particularly… platonic.”
Right. Platonic. That makes sense. Buck’s so smart.
Eddie nods. “Gotcha. So, um. Should we… shake on it?”
Buck’s eyes flicker with something that makes Eddie’s entire body light up, a little sharper than mischief. “I don’t think this is the type of arrangement you shake hands on, Eddie,” he says, and oh. Of course it’s not. This is the type of arrangement you kiss on. That makes absolute sense. Eddie readies himself for it, for Buck’s mouth, to seal the deal, and Buck steps closer, a hand to Eddie’s arm, and then — “Okay. I’m gonna go shower.”
Ridiculously, Eddie feels his face fall.
Buck chuckles. “I’m not kissing you like this, you heathen,” he says, his smile something teasing as he saunters right past him, and Eddie thinks it’d probably be weird to admit that actually, he wouldn’t at all mind Buck kissing him while he’s all hot and sweaty and topless.
That actually, it’d probably be pretty great.
Of course, for the rest of the day, he’s waiting for it, his body all wound up with anticipation.
It’s like those thirty seconds on the couch before their first kiss, only so much worse, because thirty seconds is only thirty seconds, and this is — hours.
Once Buck’s out of the shower and in fresh clothes, they go to the grocery store together as planned, a well-oiled machine with their shared cart and Buck’s very detailed list, and then, once they’re home and everything’s packed away, they play a few rounds on Super Smash Bros. Buck’s gone for a couple of hours to have lunch with Maddie, but even once he returns — nothing.
They pick up Chris from school, and Eddie helps him with some homework while Buck gets started on some pasta for dinner, and soon enough, Chris is getting ready for bed, and then so are Eddie and Buck.
They stand side by side in the bathroom as they brush their teeth, and Eddie almost wonders whether Buck thinks they should start tomorrow.
And then Buck rinses his mouth and spits, lingering by the door as Eddie does the same, and when Eddie turns around, he’s smiling, almost shy.
“You ready?” He asks, and Eddie’s body warms all over, a sigh of relief after all these hours waiting.
“Oh,” Eddie says, and he’s smiling now, too. Can’t help it. He steps closer, right in front of Buck. “Yeah. Lay one on me.”
Buck breathes a laugh and nods. This time, he doesn’t reach out, so Eddie decides he will instead. Places a hand on Buck’s chest, because since this morning, he kind of can’t stop thinking about it.
Then he leans forward and kisses Buck.
And he can’t taste the mint from Buck’s mouth, because they agreed no tongue, but he can smell it, and he can feels the softness of Buck’s lips, and the gentle exhale against his skin, and it’s a little dizzying kissing Buck actually, even if it’s for a relatively short amount of time.
When they pull apart, it takes a moment for Eddie to open his eyes again, but when he does, Buck’s smiling at him again, a little wobbly.
“Thanks,” Eddie says, and he knows he sounds breathless, but that’s because he is.
“No, um. Thank you,” Buck responds, and he seems to cringe at that a little, which makes Eddie laugh, because fuck, they’re being so formal with each other.
Thankfully, Buck laughs too, and with a press to his chest — very firm indeed — Eddie gets him turning around and out of the bathroom.
It’s Buck’s night on the couch, Eddie’s in the bedroom, so they say goodnight and go to their respective rooms. Eddie slides into bed, relaxing into it in an instant, his body still thrumming warm and giddy after that kiss. He tucks his head into the pillow, the pillow which smells just like Buck, and sighs as he thinks again about the softness of Buck’s lips.
It takes barely a minute to fall into a very happy and sated sleep.
+
There’s no clipboard, but Eddie was right: a daily kiss is pretty easy to keep track of.
The next day, it’s in the kitchen as Eddie’s making some sandwiches for lunch, and the day after that, it’s in the car before they leave for work, the barest hint of caramel on Buck’s lips after his morning coffee.
It takes a week for them to stop initiating the kisses so formally, one night when they’re on the couch together, staying up late and watching a movie together while Chris is out at a sleepover. Eddie looks over to Buck, his face cast in the soft glow of the TV, head thrown back with a hearty laugh, and Eddie feels an almost visceral urge to taste that laugh. He leans over, a hand going to Buck’s neck, and Buck startles for just a moment before that sweet, soft smile returns, and Eddie presses his own against it for ten glorious seconds.
After that, it all happens a bit more naturally than before.
It’s a shared look, a touch to the knee, a reach of the hand to get the other’s attention, and then the inevitable pressing of their mouths together, shared breath and sliding lips and soft sighs.
Of course, they’re careful to make sure nobody’s around when it happens, because even if platonic kissing in the name of good health makes sense to them, Eddie imagines that everyone else in their lives would probably make a far bigger deal out of it than necessary. Also, he doesn’t want to scar Chris again. One relocation to El Paso to fix their relationship was more than enough for him.
So it’s only when Chris isn’t home, or once he’s gone to bed for the night. And, if they’re at work, it’s only when they’re alone in a bunk room (or, on one particular occasion, when they’re doing inventory in the back of a bus, because Buck’s mouth was looking particularly kissable, and Eddie just couldn’t resist.)
There is one shift that has him worried, a day with back-to-back calls that keep them far too preoccupied to find even a second alone, and Eddie’s not obsessing over it, okay — because he’s a professional, and worrying about whether or not he’ll be able to platonically kiss his best friend while attending a scene would be distinctly unprofessional — but as the afternoon turns to evening turns to night, he does get a little antsy. Because they haven’t discussed this before, what it means if they miss a day. Will Eddie get to kiss Buck twice tomorrow? Or does he just forfeit the kiss altogether? Because that doesn’t feel fair at all.
Luckily, they pull into the station at 11.48pm, and luckily, it’s nothing unusual for Eddie and Buck to be practically glued at the hip.
So when Eddie follows Buck to a bunk room straight away, nobody bats an eye.
He presses Buck against the door as soon as they’re alone, getting his lips on him quickly, and Buck makes this soft, surprised sound against Eddie’s mouth, something that could almost be a moan, if Eddie were allowed to take it further.
“Shit,” Buck breathes when Eddie eases back, but he’s laughing. “So eager, Eds.”
“Mm-hm,” Eddie murmurs, staying close, letting their noses brush together. He steals one more kiss, just a peck this time, which barely counts anyway. “Didn’t wanna break our streak.”
It’s dark, but he swears he can see Buck blushing, which feels like something of a victory, even if he knows it’s just a normal, biological reaction to the kissing.
Which is kind of the best, by the way.
The kissing, that is.
Phenomenal. Exquisite. Life-affirming. The best idea Eddie’s ever had in his life.
Buck was right about it being good for your health, because Eddie’s honestly never felt better. Those happy hormones are working wonders for him, and he really has been less stressed and anxious of late. Even when they have a difficult call at work, or he gets a bill that feels far larger than should be legal, Eddie remembers this constant in life — Buck, and Buck’s lips — and all feels right in the world again.
And it’s funny, because he doesn’t quite remember kissing ever being this good, but now that he’s kissing Buck, it’s like a revelation. He must have forgotten this feeling with his other relationships, but it’s addictive, really.
Buck is addictive.
Somewhere along the way, they grow a bit more lax with the ten second rule. Not that Eddie ever counts, because his mind is typically elsewhere, every thought melting away the second Buck’s lips meet his, but he can tell when their mouths linger, when they cling to each other just a little longer. There’s one night before bed — Buck taking the bedroom that night, Eddie the couch — where they end up exchanging kisses for probably a full minute, before the sound of Chris’s door opening has them springing apart, all flustered and guilty.
But the other rules — the tongue, the making out — stay firmly in place.
That is, until one random Tuesday about a month into the whole thing, when they’re kissing on the couch again.
Eddie doesn’t know what comes over him.
One second he’s revelling in the feel of Buck’s hand on his jaw, angling him just right, and the next, Buck’s teeth are scraping against his bottom lip, and Eddie’s body is surging with want, moving without any input from his brain.
He slides into Buck’s lap, and then Buck’s hands are on his ass, squeezing, and Eddie’s are in Buck’s hair — those fucking curls — and oh god, his lips, his tongue, hot and wet against Eddie’s, because now they’re really kissing, and Eddie’s body is fucking alight with it, heat rushing through him, spreading to every point they’re touching, and Buck’s licking into his mouth, and Eddie’s biting at Buck’s bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue, and then he’s rolling his hips because oh fuck that feels so good, and Buck’s making this sweet, aching sound against his mouth and he’s grinding right back up into him, and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck he loves platonic kissing he loves platonic making out he loves Buck so fucking much —
A timer sounds in the kitchen, startling them apart.
It takes a moment for Eddie to realise what the sound is for, and oh. That’s right. Buck’s baking cupcakes for tomorrow’s bake sale at Chris’s school.
Ignore it, he almost says, because he was feeling so good, but then Buck’s blinking up at him, and he’s saying, “Shit, I’m sorry, Eddie,” and shaking his head with something like guilt in his eyes, and, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean — ”
“Buck,” Eddie interrupts, and fuck, his voice is so low, so rough, and he can’t help but run his hands down Buck’s chest, try to soothe him. His dick is so fucking hard right now, but that makes sense; Buck mentioned the thing about blood vessels dilating while kissing, and Eddie knows how erections work. He’s just never had a platonic one before. “It’s good. We’re good. We just, um… got carried away, that’s all. It’s probably good for us, anyway, yeah?”
Buck blinks again. Swallows hard. “Good for us. Right. Of course.”
They’re both still breathing heavily.
Both still staring at each other.
And the timer is still going off.
Finally, Eddie slides from Buck’s lap, and Buck hurries up into the kitchen to turn it off and attend to the cupcakes, all the while Eddie tries to will his dick into calming down.
It takes far longer than he’s sure it should.
+
They don’t talk about it, but then again, they never talk about it.
It’s as though platonic kissing exists on some alternate plane to the rest of their lives, despite the fact that Eddie’s thinking about it basically every hour of every day.
It just doesn’t impact the rest of their lives. In fact, that remains as normal as ever.
He and Buck live together with the same ease as they did prior to the whole platonic kissing arrangement, a rhythm that works even as they alternate sleeping arrangements each night. Buck looks after dinner most nights, and Eddie’s responsible for the lion’s share of laundry. They grocery shop together, and both help Chris out with his homework where they can, and whenever there’s a disagreement about who should take out the compost, they’ll let the rock-paper-scissors gods decide.
At work, that same ease exists within their partnership, the trust that was established in those first few months working together not wavering even an inch while Eddie was in El Paso. They still communicate with just a glance, still read each other as well as they ever did. Eddie knows when Buck’s thinking about doing something reckless, and Buck knows when a call hits Eddie particularly hard.
So, yeah, things are good. Great. Incredible.
Even if they don’t talk about it.
And then Eddie accidentally makes them talk about it.
They’re in the bed together — well, on the bed together — when it happens.
It’s technically Eddie’s night to be in there, but after brushing their teeth together, Eddie remembered wanting to show Buck something on his phone, so Buck followed him into their bedroom, lingering when they inevitably got distracted by other things.
And quietly, Eddie doesn’t really want Buck to leave. They’ve spent the entire day together, after a rough shift that left the whole team more than a little shaken, and the thought of Buck being out of his line of sight — even while sleeping — is something anxiety inducing.
Which, the kissing should obviously help with.
So it’s as Buck turns to leave that Eddie reaches out and grabs his hand, drawing him back close.
And it’s only once they’re kissing that he remembers they’ve already done this today. Just after they got home from work in the morning, something soft and slow and reassuring, a reminder that they were both safe, were both okay.
But Buck doesn’t protest, doesn’t pull away, and so Eddie doesn’t either.
They kiss, and as has become the norm of late, the ten seconds becomes a minute becomes two becomes five, and then they’re on the bed, laying together, Eddie’s hand smoothing a path up and down Buck’s side while Buck’s settles at the nape of Eddie’s neck, fingers teasing his hair, keeping him close as they exchange kisses back and forth.
It’s not the intensity of the couch make out, no moaning or ass-squeezing or grinding of hips, but there’s a quiet electricity in each slide of their lips, in the tangling of their tongues, that has Eddie’s heart swelling in his chest, his body thrumming with a perfect, tender sort of warmth, one that he never wants to let go of.
So, “I could do this forever,” Eddie sighs against Buck’s mouth, following the words with another kiss, then another, and he’s half considering shifting from his position, moving to settle over Buck — because then he could feel so much more of him — when Buck surprises him by pulling back entirely.
It takes a few seconds for Eddie to open his eyes, and another few to realise that Buck’s staring at him with a wide, almost panicked gaze, which is absolutely not the way Eddie wants Buck looking at him right now.
Or, you know. Ever.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, voice low and worried, thumb rubbing over Buck’s hip.
Buck sits up in bed, forcing Eddie to take his hand back, and Eddie instantly misses his warmth.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then, “I’m in love with you,” Buck says — blurts, really, like they’re words he’s been holding himself back from saying, and it’s finally too much. He swallows hard, brows creased in the middle and eyes so impossibly blue, swimming with emotion that hits Eddie right in the chest. “Fuck. Eddie. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner… I should’ve stopped this sooner.”
“Stop…?” Eddie asks faintly, sitting up now, too, but Buck’s already talking over him, mouth already moving a mile a minute.
“I know we said that this would be platonic; just for our health. And, and, I tried Eddie, I did. But then it was actually happening, and I kind of blinked and then it was just there, this, this — this love for you. And I thought maybe it was those kissing hormones, but then I realised that it’s actually always been there, probably since the first day I met you. I just didn’t realise it, not even when it was pointed out to me. Not until the kissing.”
Buck’s mouth finally snaps shut, and his eyes are kind of wild now, still so impossibly blue.
Eddie blinks.
Tries to process everything Buck’s just said.
And yet, what comes to mind is still… stop?
Didn’t Eddie just say he wanted to do this forever?
“You want to stop?” He asks again, and he’s aware, somewhere in the back of his mind, just how pathetic he sounds with that question, but still.
Buck looks at him like he’s questioning Eddie’s sanity, which is probably fair. It kind of reminds Eddie of the expression Buck wore when he first offered to kiss him.
“That’s the part you’re focussed on?” Buck asks, bewildered, an almost hysterical laugh quick to follow. “Eddie, of course we have to stop. I’m in love with you!”
And, right. Yes. Of course. There was that other, far more important thing that was said.
Buck’s in love with him.
Buck.
Evan Buckley.
Eddie’s best friend.
Is in love with him.
Eddie… didn’t realise that that was allowed.
That Buck was allowed.
That love could be something that could be found in someone who already meant the world to you, who already held so much of your heart.
Eddie swallows.
His heart grows little wild in his chest, and it sends a renewed burst of warmth through his body. He thinks about where he is right now — on a bed that he and Buck have been sharing on alternate days, in a house that was once Eddie’s, then became Buck’s, and is now both of theirs. He thinks about what the past two months have been — kissing Buck, and remembering kissing Buck, and thinking about the next time he’ll be able to kiss Buck. And he thinks about how that’s made him feel — so achingly good, so achingly right, that he hasn’t really known what to do with himself.
Suddenly, things he didn’t even realise were floating untethered in his mind settle into place, finding home.
And, oh.
Eddie realises he’s kind of stupid.
“I don’t want to stop,” he says, and Buck opens his mouth — to protest, Eddie’s sure — but Eddie continues before he can get a word in. “Buck,” he says, and how didn’t he know, when this is what Buck’s name feels like on his tongue? “I’ve just realised something.”
Buck tilts his head. “What is it?”
Eddie smiles, wry. “Platonically kissing for health benefits is kind of… an insane thing to suggest.”
This time, Buck’s laugh is surprised. “Yeah, it is. I think I pointed that out at the beginning.”
“You did,” Eddie says, nodding in agreement, and then, “I’ve realised another thing.”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m kind of gay.”
Buck absorbs those words with a soft expression, his lashes fluttering just a little. “Oh. That’s — that’s great, Eddie.”
Eddie swallows, reaching out to take Buck’s hands and pull them into his own lap, and there’s something so incredible about this; in knowing that things are about to change, that he and Buck are on the precipice of something so wonderful. “There’s… there’s one more thing, okay?”
Buck nods, and Eddie’s sure it’s hope he can see flickering in his eyes. “What is it?”
And really, it’s the easiest thing to say. Eddie’s never been so sure in his life. “I’m in love with you, too.”
Buck smiles, and it starts small, wobbly, but it grows quickly, into something that lights up his entire face, and then he’s laughing, and Eddie’s laughing, too.
“You are?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Kind of a stupid amount, actually, given I was such an idiot about the whole thing. But I know now, so — so, can I kiss you again?”
Buck’s smile softens with the question, but there’s still mirth gleaming somewhere in there. “Not platonically, you mean?”
“Not platonically.”
“And not for health reasons?”
“Very much not for health reasons,” Eddie assures, reaching a hand up to settle at Buck’s neck, his thumb drawing a soft path over the line of his jaw. “For, you know. I love you reasons.”
“Oh,” Buck breathes out, and it’s sweet, so very sweet. “Yeah. Yeah, Eds. You can kiss me.”
And so Eddie does.
Leans forward and catches Buck’s mouth.
And it’s obviously far from their first kiss, and yet there’s still something new in the way Buck’s lips feel sliding against his own, still something new in the sweetness of Buck’s tongue as it licks into Eddie’s mouth, still something new in the way they hold onto each other, Buck’s fingers tangling in the front of Eddie’s top while Eddie’s cradle Buck’s jaw. It’s easy to lose track of time, revelling in Buck’s warmth, in his taste, in the perfect sounds that he makes as they kiss, and kiss, and kiss some more.
Eventually, they pull apart, but even then they don’t go far, Eddie pressing his forehead to Buck’s.
“You’re never sleeping on that couch again,” he says, and it’s amazing, really, feeling Buck’s laugh soft against his lips.
“Good,” Buck says, and then he’s pushing at Eddie’s chest, getting him on his back and doing what Eddie had considered doing earlier — settling on top of him, straddling him — and oh, Eddie likes that. He likes that a lot. “Because I really want to explore the health benefits of orgasms with you, Eds.”
Eddie chokes a laugh, but of course Buck’s already there, dipping down to swallow it up.
And, well.
Yeah.
The health benefits of orgasms are well and truly explored.