Archive of Our Own

Scotland. Eddie’s heard that Scotland is great. He can live in the countryside, maybe in one of those castles older than sliced bread, haunting the cobblestone halls to remind visiting tourists of the importance of checking what picture you’ve selected when texting, lest you accidentally send a nude to your best friend. 

It’s a big problem, he’s heard. In Scotland. That’s why he has to go there. 

No other reason.

Definitely not because he may have, possibly, sent something he didn’t mean to to Buck, and has spent the last thirty minutes staring at the wall contemplating fleeing the country so he never has to face the man ever, ever again. 

“Dad…are you okay?”

Eddie slowly turns his head to where Christopher stands in the hallway, headphones around his neck and a bag of veggie chips in hand, clearly grabbing a mid-gaming snack. 

“I’m great,” Eddie says. He may actually be going insane. “Yeah, totally good.”

Chris stares at him, concerned, clearly not sure whether he wants to get involved or not. “Okay…” he says slowly, then points over his shoulder down the hallway towards his room. “So, I’m going to go…”

Eddie nods. “Mhm. Yeah, you do that.” 

Chris gives him one more bewildered look before hustling back to his room. Eddie hears as he starts talking just before his door shuts, saying, “I’m back. My dad is being totally weird…”

Usually he might be slightly more offended, but, yeah. He’s being pretty fucking weird. Because he sent a dick pic to Buck. How the hell is he supposed to act? Not weird? No—that’s not possible. 

So. Scotland. Maybe Iceland. He’s heard Austria is lovely this time of year. Who knows. It just needs to be somewhere far, far away where he can hide in his shame and never make eye contact with anyone ever again, never have to face Buck and his earnest blue eyes and—

Eddie’s phone buzzes from where it still lays on the ground in the dining room from when he chucked it earlier, right after he sent no less than fifty texts begging Buck to not scroll up and a truly concerning number of SORRY’s.

He knows it’s Buck. He knows. 

He also knows that he can not handle this right now. 

He approaches his phone, now buzzing continually with a call; he’s acting like a spooked animal, legs nearly locking with tension and heart racing. He makes it to his phone and stands above it. It stops buzzing, and he pokes it with his foot. 

It starts buzzing again.

“Oh fuck me,” he mutters, bending down to grab it before he chickens out and leaves it there for all of eternity. Turning it over, he confirms that it’s Buck who’s calling him. “Oh fuck.”

He quickly declines the call. Barely seconds after the screen goes back it flashes back on, Buck’s contact photo of his smiling face looking up at him as he calls again. 

Eddie declines it again. Then powers his phone completely off. Just to be safe. 

His hands are shaking. His face is burning, certainly an alarming shade of red. His heart feels like it’s going to pound out of chest. 

A slightly hysterical laugh tumbles out of him. God, he really is pathetic. Here he is, steadily approaching his forties with a teenaged son, freaking the fuck out because his crush is calling. 

He walks down the hallway in a daze, knocking lightly on Chris’s door before poking his head in. Chris looks up at him with a slightly disgruntled expression, lifting one side of his headphones so he can hear. 

“I’m going to head to bed,” Eddie tells him. 

Chris frowns. He glances down at his watch. “It’s eight thirty?”

“Mhm. Yeah. Figure I should…get some sleep.”

Chris slowly removes the other side of his headphones. His look of concern from earlier seems doubled in intensity now. “Are you okay?” he asks warily. 

Jesus. Here Eddie goes again, worrying his kid over yet another of his silly, stupid, ridiculous mistakes. 

He manages a smile, hoping for reassurance, and forces his hand to unclench where it’s been holding the doorknob in a death grip.

“Yeah. I’m good.” When Chris’s frown only deepens, he adds, “I promise. Just…tired.”

“O-kay. Sure.” It’s a little disconcerting how intensely Chris is watching him. “If you say so.”

“Mhm. And the no gaming after nine rule still applies, yeah?” Chris groans a bit, but still nods in assent. Eddie knocks once on the doorframe. “Goodnight, bud.”

“Goodnight, Dad,” Chris replies, still with a heavy dose of skepticism and concern in his tone, before sliding his headphones back on and turning back to his computer. 

Eddie shuts the door, but before he makes his way down the hallway to his own bedroom, he hears Chris talking into his headset once again. 

“I think my dad might actually be going crazy…”

Sounds about right. 

Eddie goes through his nightly routine in a weird half-there, half-not state, changing into a pair of old basketball shorts and soft t-shirt, washing his face and brushing his teeth while he stares at his face in the mirror. The face of a man who accidentally sent his best friend a picture of his dick. 

Jesus Fucking Christ.  

He lays in his bed staring at the ceiling for a while. He hates sleeping on his back, much prefers sleeping on his side curled around his pillow, but he can’t seem to get his body to move. He’s completely frozen, bones and muscles and nerves flooded with embarrassment, shame, and ice-cold horror. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do. What even is there for him to do? What the hell do people do in this situation? Well, probably no one has ever even been in this situation before. Eddie’s inventing new levels of patheticness. 

He falls asleep eventually—still on his back and utterly uncomfortable, mind racing and racing and racing. He can only hope that his shame won’t haunt him in his sleep, but he doesn’t have much hope for that. 

Eddie wakes up to a pair of blue eyes hovering concerningly close above his face. 

“What the—” He startles, jerking to the side and getting tangled up in his sheets in the process. His heart feels like it’s pounding so fast it’s on the verge of exploding. “Buck? W-What…the fuck?”

“Oh, so you are alive,” Buck says lightly. 

“What the fuck?” Eddie says again.

Eddie watches with a considerable amount of confusion and a still half-asleep brain as Buck sits down on the edge of the bed. He’s got an iced coffee in one hand. If he gets any of the condensation on Eddie’s blanket, he’ll kill him. 

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Buck says, then takes a loud sip of his drink. 

Eddie blinks. “My phone…?” He’s not entirely sure he’s actually awake right now; he might still be sleeping, because he has no idea what’s going on. He starts to move his hand towards his thigh so he can pinch himself—just to check—but then stops, freezing in silent, absolute horror. Like a meteor crashing down to Earth and destroying everything in its path, it all comes back to him, and he’s suddenly wide, wide awake. 

He jolts up, his blankets bunching at his hips, and stares at Buck, mouth gaping like a fish. “My phone,” he repeats slowly. 

“Yes, your phone. Those handy little things that we use to contact each other.” Buck’s acting far too nonchalant right now. It’s making Eddie’s skin itch. 

“Oh my god.” Buck takes another loud slurp. Eddie would like to be quite literally anywhere else but here, right now. “Oh my god. Oh fuck.” Eddie slumps back, grabbing his pillow and using it to cover his burning red face. “What are you doing here?”

“Just checking that my best friend is okay.” Buck says. Eddie feels him try to pull the pillow away, but Eddie tugs it back. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so mortified in his life. What the fuck. “You know, since he hasn’t been answering his phone.”

“Kill me now,” Eddie says into his pillowcase.

“What was that?”

Eddie just groans.

Eddie hears Buck sigh, then the shake of the ice in his cup. “Eddie,” he begins, and—oh no. His voice has gone all soft. “You're stressing.” 

Eddie finally removes the pillow from his face to glare up at him. 

“Hey, don’t make that face at me.”

Eddie takes a deep, deep breath. So much for Scotland. It looks like he’s having this conversation whether he likes it or not.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, and suddenly the words are rushing out of him. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to, of course, obviously. I just…accidentally clicked on the wrong picture. I was trying to send you a picture I took of a squirrel in the tomato pot—which I told you was happening, not that you believed me—and I didn’t realize that I selected the one before it and now this is the most embarrassing moment of my life and I’m seriously considering relocating to somewhere in the mountains with no cell service far, far away. Just, fuck. I’m so sorry.” He ends his tirade with what is an attempt of a self-deprecating smile, but ends up just being a full-blown grimace. 

And Buck? He just looks amused. Oh screw him. Eddie is in distress and Buck finds it amusing?

“It’s okay, Eddie. It happens to the best of us.”

Eddie groans. “No it doesn’t.”

“Okay, maybe not.” Buck shrugs. He’s got this little smirk tucked up in the corner of his mouth. It’s very irritating. “But seriously. It’s no big deal. Besides, it’s not like I’ve never seen your dick before—”

“Okay. I’m going to need you to shut up now.”

Buck just laughs. He stands up, rattling his dwindling ice once more time, and heads for the door. “Wanna go out to breakfast?”

“Only if you promise me one thing.” Eddie sits up again, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and onto the floor. His face is most definitely still bright red, and he’s having a bit of a hard time maintaining eye contact. “That we never speak of this ever again.”

“I promise,” Buck chuckles, and then, since apparently he wants to kill Eddie, he winks. “I’ll go wake up Chris, see if he wants to come.”

Buck leaves the room, and Eddie is left to sit in his shame. Buck is being super casual and chill about all this, but it’s still up there as one of the most humiliating moments of Eddie’s life. How the hell is he supposed to move on from this? How is he supposed to look Buck in the face when he knows that Buck has seen a picture of Eddie posing with his hard dick out? 

Eddie’s been doing a lot of thinking recently, and has had some…revelations. Revelations regarding Buck, and how Eddie feels about him. And now, how is he supposed to feel about the man he’s been steadily falling in love with for years being so nonchalant about Eddie sending him a fucking nude?

What the hell has his life come to.

“Chris says he’s down—Dude, you’re not even dressed yet,” Buck interrupts his mental spiral, poking his head through the doorway. “Hurry up. Chop chop.”

“Give a guy a minute. I was asleep literally ten minutes ago,” Eddie says, proud of himself for how normal he keeps his voice. 

Buck rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, then raises his voice so Chris can hear him too, “Last one to the car is a rotten egg!”

Eddie groans, patting at his cheeks to try and get some energy—yup, still red hot—and stands, quickly moving to his dresser to pick out something to wear. He pulls on the first shirt on top, same with pants, and hops into a pair of socks, forgoing doing his hair as he hustles out of the room and down the hallway. No chance he’s going to be the rotten egg. 

The whole not speaking about it ever again lasts almost a week. They’re in the station kitchen, empty except for them, deep into the night of a 24 hour shift, Eddie making a cup of tea and Buck sitting at the kitchen island scrolling on his phone when Buck brings it up. 

“What was it for, anyways?”

Buck does this a lot. Starts up a conversation from the middle, expecting Eddie to know exactly what he’s talking about. Usually he knows, or can parse it out fairly easily, but today he’s at a loss. 

“What was what for?” he asks, ripping open the teabag package and dropping it into his mug then reaching for the kettle.

“The dick pic.”

Eddie just barely avoids a grievous burn injury, tightening his grip on the kettle barely a second before it slips out of his hand and spills boiling water down his front. 

“W-What?” he croaks. 

“The dick pic,” Buck repeats, far too casual, once again. Eddie never wants to hear those words come out of his mouth again. “Why’d you take it? Did you send it to anyone? Are you—are you on a dating app or something?”

“I thought we agreed to never speak about this.” Eddie keeps his back towards Buck as he pours the water into his mug. He cannot be looking at the man right now. 

Buck groans. “But I can’t stop wondering. Can’t help it, I’m curious.”

He can’t stop thinking about it? Jesus, Buck. What the hell is Eddie supposed to think about that?

“No, um. No dating apps,” Eddie says, voice a bit shakier than he would like. He grabs the honey off the counter, pouring a little into his tea. “There’s no one to—I didn’t send it to anyone.”

“Well, other than me.”

Eddie sighs, hanging his head. “Yeah. I guess.”

“So, my question still stands. Why did you take it?”

Eddie finally turns around to face him. His phone is discarded to the side, and he’s watching Eddie with an unexpectedly intense look in his eyes, slightly leaning forward over the counter. 

“I don’t…I’m not really sure,” Eddie manages to get out. 

“You don’t know why you took a picture of your dick?”

“Why are you asking all these questions, Buck?” Eddie can’t help but ask, voice a little harsher than was strictly necessary. 

Buck blinks, looking stunned for a moment, before he leans back from the counter with a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says, scratching at the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I just—I’m sorry.”

Eddie sighs. “No. No, it’s okay. It’s just…” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s just really embarrassing, y’know? I-I’m really embarrassed.”

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” Buck says earnestly. 

Eddie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure about that? I accidently sent my best best friend a nude. I think that’s plenty of reason to be embarrassed.”

Buck shrugs. “Eh. I don’t think so. It’s just me.” Yeah, that actually kind of makes it worse, Eddie thinks, but doesn’t say. “Besides, you’ve seen me embarrass myself countless times. It was just your turn.”

Eddie can’t help but chuckle a little. “Yeah, sure.”

Buck smiles then, tired and a little bit goofy. “Is your sleepytime tea ready yet? I want to go get some sleep.”

“It’s not sleepytime, Buck, it’s chamomile,” Eddie says indignantly, because Buck knows this. “And you know you can just go down yourself, right? You don’t need to wait for me.”

“But then I’ll get lonely.”

He’s obviously teasing, but Eddie still has to hide his blush behind his steaming mug.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.”

They’re quiet as they shuffle into the bunk room, silently giggling to each other when they spot Chimney with all of his blankets kicked onto the floor. Buck settles into his bunk, Eddie in the one right next to it. He sits with his back against the wall and blows on his steaming tea. 

“Nighty night, Buck,” he whispers. 

Buck looks up at him, bundled up under his blankets with half of his face mushed into his pillow. “G’night, Eddie,” he whispers back.

Eddie watches as Buck nearly instantly falls asleep, still sipping on his tea. He smiles to himself when Buck inevitably starts snoring. In the quiet, low light of the bunk room, he lets his gaze linger. On the slope of Buck’s nose, on golden eyelashes fanning out over his cheeks. On perfect pink lips that part as he snores, on his birthmark.

He’s beautiful. Eddie doesn’t know how he didn’t realize it sooner. 

But now that he has, it’s always on his mind. In the cab of the engine, shoulders pressed close together and knees knocking with each bump on the road, he’s thinking about it. At home, dancing around each other as they prepare dinner with their shared favorite song playlist playing off of Buck’s phone, he’s thinking about it. At the station, sitting next to each other on the couch decompressing after a long call, he's thinking about it. At the farmers market, arguing over whether they should buy peaches or plums, he’s thinking about it. 

When he’s standing in front of his bathroom mirror, his cock achingly hard and phone camera pointed down at it, he’s thinking about it. 

God. He really is well and truly fucked.

Eddie has a problem. A huge, infuriating problem—and after this morning, he knows that it’s going to be a near impossible one to fix.

Because this morning he woke up thirty minutes before his alarm was set to go off, flushed and sweaty with his sheets twisted around his waist, the front of his sleep shorts wet and sticky, the sound of Buck’s name spilling from his lips.

So. A problem. 

Shame sits heavy in his gut as he goes through the motions of the morning: getting dressed, making breakfast, making sure Chris gets to school on time, driving over to the station. He can hear Buck’s voice up in the loft as he walks into the loading bay, bright and happy and made sweeter with his laughter. Eddie feels his cheeks start to heat up and heart start hammering just at the sound of it, an unconscious reaction that he has no power to stop. 

He’s ridiculous. Genuinely ridiculous. 

He changes into his uniform as slow as he possibly can. He knows he can’t hide away in the locker room forever, but he certainly is going to try. 

Luckily, when someone finally does come looking for him, it’s Hen and not Buck.

“You get lost on your way up or something?” she says, leaning against the side of the open doorway. 

“Just…getting ready,” he says, lamely gesturing to where he’s lacing up his boots. 

Hen gives him an unimpressed look. Eddie winces. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be up in a minute.”

She narrows her eyes at him. Maybe he actually isn’t too lucky that it’s Hen who came down.

“What’s up with you? Are you okay?” 

He forces a smile onto his face. “Yup. Totally fine.”

Hen narrows her eyes even more. “You can’t actually think I’m going to believe that.”

“I’m fine, Hen. I promise,” he says, heaving a big sigh. That’s all he’s going to say, because there is no way that he’s going to talk about his less than PG feelings about their shared friend and coworker with her, much less at their collective place of employment. Not a chance. “Just tired.”

Hen stops him from walking past her with a hand on his shoulder. She looks up at him, eyes searching his face. “You can talk to me. You know that, right?” she says

This time, Eddie doesn’t have to force himself to smile. This time it’s natural, fond and appreciative. “I know,” he says. At her slightly disbelieving look, he laughs. “I swear, I do. Thank you, Hen.”

“Good.” There’s still a hint of concern in her expression, but she just squeezes his shoulder once before letting go, and they finally make their way out of the locker room. “Now let's get going. Buck was getting all sad and mopey because you were taking too long.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“No. Really. It was pretty pathetic.”

Buck is the first one to spot them as they come up the stairs and into the loft. His face breaks into a smile that has Eddie’s heart stuttering in response, and he begins to wave them over enthusiastically. 

“Eddie! Hen!”

“Buck!” Hen calls back, clearly teasing him a bit, making her way to the table and taking a seat next to where Chimney is frowning down at what is probably a crossword on his phone. Eddie follows her, leaning against the back of his usual chair.

“Hey, Buck,” he says softly. Much softer than he intended. 

“Jesus Christ,” he hears Ravi mutter underneath his breath where he sits with his face half hidden behind a cup of coffee. 

Buck’s eyes are bright as he grins at Eddie. Visions of his dreams last night flash through Eddie’s mind—Buck’s bright blue eyes, staring up at him; pupils blown wide, mouth open in a perfect O as he mo—

“Bobby says he’ll make us fried chicken sandwiches for lunch if we get all our chores done by noon,” Buck tells him excitedly. “Well, if we don’t get called out for too long, of course.”

Eddie shakes his head, trying to dispel the extremely non-work appropriate and non-best friend appropriate thoughts from his mind. He glances behind Buck to where Bobby is pouring himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “You’re really not helping yourself on the whole ‘you’re not our dad’ front, Cap,” he tells him, grinning. “That’s a pretty dad way of putting that.”

Bobby sighs, shaking his head down at his cup. “Well maybe if you all didn’t act like a bunch of children…”

Buck laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners and face flushing pleasantly pink. Eddie has to look away before he does something not socially acceptable. Something like biting Buck’s neck. 

“C’mon, Eddie,” Buck says, making his way around the table to the stairs. “Help me with the hoses. I’m craving fried chicken.”

Eddie would rather not be spending any alone time with Buck, at the moment—not that he doesn’t want to be with Buck, he always wants to be with Buck, he’s just not quite sure if he can keep his thoughts in check right now. 

“Sure,” he says easily, anyway. He follows after Buck—just as he always has, just like he always will. 

Buck turns to him when they reach the bottom of the stairs, one of his hands coming to rest on Eddie’s forearm. “Hey,” he says, bringing them to a stop. “Are you doing okay?”

Of course. Eddie should have known Buck could tell something is a bit off. It’s nearly impossible to hide anything from Buck. Eddie always feels honored to be known so intimately by a person like Buck, but sometimes…sometimes he wishes he could just keep some things to himself. Things like his huge, embarrassing, gay crush on the guy.

“I’m good,” he says, smiling genuinely. “Just tired.”

“If you’re sure…” Buck says. He’s still holding onto Eddie’s arm. His touch warms Eddie from the inside out. 

“I’m sure,” Eddie says. He pats the top of Buck’s hand before pulling away, waving Buck towards the engine. “Now, come on, these hoses aren’t going to roll themselves.”

“You know, it’s a pretty good picture.”

“Oh my god—Buck.”

They’re in the car, Buck driving, Eddie scrolling through their mellow-car-day playlist in the passenger seat, and this time, he knows exactly what Buck is talking about. 

“Just saying,” Buck says with a shrug.

“Well I’d rather you didn’t say,” Eddie grumbles, feeling as his cheeks start to burn.

Buck harumphs. Honest to god harumphs. He’s ridiculous. 

But not as ridiculous as Eddie. Because now he’s blushing, thinking about Buck thinking about Eddie’s dick, internally preening because Buck thinks it was a good picture. And it’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid—because he tried. He tried to make the picture look good. 

“You’re really not sticking to that promise that we wouldn’t ever talk about it again, you know,” Eddie manages to say. He turns his head slightly to the side, watching the streets go by through the window, avoiding looking over at Buck. 

“Sorry,” Buck says, and he actually does sound like he means it. But then he ruins the sentiment by following up with, “But, really, can you blame me?”

“Yes?” Eddie says, voice pitched far too high. 

“It’s not every day that your technophobe best friend sends you a picture of his dick.”

“For the love of god, Buck, stop talking about it. And I’m not a technophobe.”

“Mhm. Sure. Just a man with a healthy dose of fear of electronics.”

Eddie finally turns to him so he can make sure to be accurate when he punches Buck in the shoulder. “You’re actually so annoying.”

“Ow!” Buck yelps, swatting Eddie’s hand away, eyes still on the road. “Rude.”

“Yeah, I’m being the rude one right now.”

Buck pauses for a moment. “Sorry, Eddie. I don’t—I’m not trying to harass you, or anything. I just…I don’t know.” 

Eddie heaves a big sigh, dropping his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s fine, Buck. You’re not—harassing me. It’s just—like I said, it’s embarrassing. Mortifying, even.”

“Mortifying? It’s not mortifying.”

“Uh, yeah it is,” Eddie scoffs. “I’m the one who did it but. I’m definitely feeling mortified.”

They stop at a red light and Buck turns so he’s fully facing Eddie. Eddie keeps track of the traffic light out of the corner of his eye, because Buck surely isn’t. He looks at Eddie, something a little guilty in the purse of his lips. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll drop it,” he says.

Eddie swallows. “Thank you.” He doesn’t really know what he should be saying. 

“Yeah, no, of course. I’m sorry for, like, being a pest and ke—”

The light switches from red to green. Like Eddie predicted, Buck doesn’t notice. “It’s green, man.”

“Oh. Shit. Thank you.”

They spend the next few minutes in relative silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but not quite…comftorable. There’s something a little off-kilter in the air. Eddie feels it, and he knows that Buck can too.

He scrolls through their playlist again, clicking on a song he knows they both like. Buck smiles when it comes on and begins tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along to the Fleetwood Mac song. He’s a little off-beat, per usual. Eddie hates that he finds it endearing. 

“Do you wanna go on a hike tomorrow?” Eddie offers after a while, trying to signal to Buck that he’s not actually upset with him. “Karen was telling me about this trail they found up near Brand Park. She showed me some pictures, it looked really pretty.”

“Yeah! I think I know the one you’re talking about.” Buck flicks the turn signal on, turning onto South Bedford. “I’d love to go.”

“Sweet.”

“I can stay the night? We can go early, after dropping Chris off at school. It’ll probably be too hot to go in the afternoon.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Eddie has to turn away towards the window when Buck puts his arm across the back of Eddie’s chair as he reverses, looking over his shoulder to park on the street in front of the house. Having his huge, defined muscles so close to Eddie’s face…Well, it’s making Eddie think some thoughts. Never mind the fact that he's pretty sure Buck is flexing.

“Why didn’t you park in the driveway?” Eddie asks as they grab the groceries out of the back seat, one bag each.

Buck shrugs. “You parked too much to the left. There’s no room.”

Eddie glances to where his Prius is parked in the driveway. There’s more than enough room beside it to fit the jeep. Eddie raises his eyebrows at him, but Buck only shrugs again, digging his keys out of his pocket as he makes his way to the front door. Buck is a terrible liar. Eddie can always tell—though he has no idea why he would be lying about something so inconsequential as his reason for where he parks

“Okay. Sure,” he says, letting it go. He follows Buck through the door and closes it behind him. 

They have a couple hours till they have to pick Chris up from his after-school club, and while usually they’d be crashing for a nap after a long shift, today they go straight to the kitchen to start unloading and preparing for, what Buck has been calling all week, the ribs to end all ribs. Buck had finally needled Bobby’s apparently secret ingredient to his recipe and has been dying to try it out all week. Eddie was more than happy to volunteer his kitchen and his help.

Buck runs the kitchen like the navy, as he always does. Eddie thinks he’s pretty sure he’s close to pulling out a clipboard, but he can’t say that he minds. 

They stand side by side at the counter as Eddie chops vegetables and Buck prepares the braising liquid, elbows bumping when Buck gestures with his hands as he recounts a story of his time in Virginia Beach and when Eddie laughs so hard he nearly gets a cramp. It’s as simple and easy as anything they do together is. It’s all so painfully domestic

And this is what he wants. Sharing a home, sharing a life, always standing side by side with Buck…that would be the perfect life. Sure, sharing a bed would be amazing—in addition to another bunch of adjectives that he could spend forever listing—but this is really what it’s all about. Because if Eddie could have this for the rest of his life, he’d be the happiest man alive. 

Looking over at Buck, catching his eye and sharing a soft smile between them, Eddie thinks that—well, maybe. Just maybe.

It’s a quiet evening at the house. Chris is over at a friend’s for a sleepover birthday party, and Buck is…not here, so tonight it’s just Eddie. He does some house chores he’s been putting off for a while, then caves into his own laziness and orders a pizza, eating it on the couch with a show Hen recommended playing on the TV. He can’t say that he’s really enjoying it, but he’s giving it to the third episode before he’s allowed to call it quits. 

It’s fine. Boring, but fine. 

He considers calling Buck to see what he’s up to about every fifteen minutes, but never ends up following through and actually doing it. They spend every other day together. Surely Eddie can get through one night without him. 

But in the end, he never finds out if he can. Eddie gladly pauses the show when he sees his phone screen light up telling him that Buck has texted him. He unlocks his phone and clicks on the notification only to immediately choke on nothing but air. 

I can’t stop thinking about it. 

Eddie stares at the little blue textbox. He’s pretty sure his mouth is hanging open. What is he…surely not…

It takes a moment for his hands to stop shaking enough for him to type back, can’t stop thinking about what?

You know is Buck’s instantaneous response.

Eddie thinks he maybe does know. He hopes he knows. Desperately, he hopes. Still, he writes, tell me anyway?

He keeps his eyes locked on the screen, watching, waiting, but the typing bubbles don’t appear. The screen darkens, about to turn off, but he frantically jabs his thumb against it, keeping it on. 

One minute passes. Then two. His phone screen is still on. Eddie thinks might have to stare at it forever, now. 

Then, finally, another message comes through.

It’s not text, but a picture. 

A picture of what can only be Buck’s dick. 

Now we’re even is what accompanies the picture. 

“What the fuck,” Eddie says out loud. 

He’s frozen, staring at it. It being Buck’s dick. Buck’s dick. Insanely, he looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is there to see him before clicking on the picture. It’s—it’s a good picture. A great picture. It’s Buck, with his—huge, holy fuck—hard cock held in a loose grip with one hand, a trail of darker hair that leads to a toned stomach and chest dotted with familiar tattoos. It’s taken from a low angle and cuts off right above his bottom lip. Of all things to take in in the photo, Eddie finds himself focusing on Buck’s lip. He stares and he stares and he stares—before finally dropping his gaze back down. Back down to Buck’s dick. Because Buck has sent him a nude. On purpose.

Eddie’s pretty sure there’s no more blood in his head. It’s all heading down south at this very moment. 

That's what he’ll blame his next actions on, if ever questioned. Because he does what is perhaps the craziest thing yet. 

Come over. He presses send before he can think too much about it, shutting his phone off and tossing it to the other side of the couch. It dings as he gets what he assumes a response, but he doesn’t check to see. 

God…what has he done? What is he going to do?

It could be minutes or hours later when there’s a knock on the door. Buck has a key, has been using it to storm his way in the Diaz house for years, but he doesn’t use it now. 

Eddie doesn’t allow himself a moment of second guessing. He gets up off the couch, walks across the room, and opens the front door between one breath and the next. 

He’s greeted with Buck’s slightly red face, hand still raised to knock. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a button down shirt. An odd combo. Glancing down, Eddie sees that he’s wearing two different types of shoes. But he’s smiling, something a little unsure but hopeful about it—pretty much exactly what Eddie is feeling himself, in addition to a healthy dose of panic.

They stare at each other for a moment. Eddie’s chest is heaving like he’s just run a mile.  

“You’re bold,” Eddie finally says.

“I guess so,” Buck says with a shrug. But then a cocky, self-satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “It does help when you know it’s going to be well received, though.”

Eddie’s brain buffers for a moment. “W-What? How, um…what do you mean?”

Buck is still smirking. “Can I come in?” he says instead of answering. 

“Oh. Um. Yeah,” Eddie stutters out, stepping to the side to let him in, then closing the door behind him. “What…Just. What?”

Buck is looking at the paused show on the TV. “Is that the show Hen was talking about the other day?” he asks, instead of answering Eddie’s, admittedly, stilted question once again. 

“No. I mean yes.” Eddie’s brain is all jumbled. He’s not sure anything is making sense right now. “It’s not very good. You sent me a dick pic.”

“I did,” Buck says. His voice is irritatingly even. Like they’re talking about the weather, not like they’re, maybe…just, maybe. Eddie feels like he’s on the verge of going insane. 

“Why?” 

“Did you like it?”

“Buck.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” Buck finally turns away from the TV and looks at Eddie. Have his eyes always been this blue? Eddie doesn’t know. “I sent it because, well. Do you know what live pictures are?”

Eddie blinks, slightly stunned at the sudden change of topic. “Um. Yes.”

Buck nods. “Right, cool. So you know that they pick up sound? Kind of like a video?” He’s trying to hold back a smile. Eddie can tell. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Eddie says, going along with whatever Buck is talking about right now. 

“You have your phone camera set to take live photos.”

“Buck. I’m so lost. Why are we talking about this?”

Buck is fully grinning now, not trying to hide it anymore. Eddie thinks it’s a little unfair that he’s doing that right now, while Eddie has no clue what the fuck is going on. 

“You have your camera set to take live photos,” Buck repeats. “So the picture you sent me? It was a live.”

Eddie is still failing to follow the point of this conversation. “Okay…?”

Buck takes one step closer. “The photo you sent. The nude. There was audio.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

Eddie thinks he might finally get it now. He wishes he didn’t, but he does. 

This is the most mortifying moment of his life. He thought that already happened two weeks ago, but no. He just had to go and top it with this.

“Oh my god,” he breathes. This can’t be happening. Because he knows what he was thinking about when he took that picture. So he knows that if he were to say something—which was not unlikely—what he would say. 

He was thinking about Buck. He was thinking about Buck. 

“Oh my god,” he says again. He wouldn’t mind if the ground opened up and swallowed him right now. In fact, he’d really quite appreciate it. 

“I wasn’t completely sure at first,” Buck says with a shrug. “Buck and fuck are quite close, you know?”

“Oh my god.” Eddie can never show his face, anywhere, ever again. “I said your name.”

“Yep.” 

“Oh my god.”

Buck laughs. “Stop saying that.”

Eddie stares at him with what he’s sure are wild eyes. “Well what else am I supposed to say? What the fuck.”

Buck takes another step closer. Eddie’s still waiting for the floor to swallow him whole. 

“You need to relax, man,” Buck tells him.

“Relax?!” Eddie’s voice is more than a few octaves too high. 

Buck steps forward again. He’s right in front of Eddie now. “Yes, relax,” he says, chuckling. “I—well. I sent you one back, didn’t I?”

Eddie pauses his mental spiral. He did, didn’t he. 

“It’s. Um. It’s a good picture,” he says dumbly.

“You think?” Buck’s grin is devious. Eddie wants to kiss it off his face. Now. But he waits. 

“Yeah. I do think.” Eddie takes a deep breath. What even the fuck is going on? “Buck, I…I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Buck chuckles again, but there’s something undeniably soft in the way he looks at Eddie, in the way he reaches forward to take the hem of Eddie’s shirt in between his fingers.

Eddie takes another deep breath. Summons up the courage Buck always tells him he has. 

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know—I know that I really like you, Buck,” he says, voice going a little quiet. 

Buck shuffles even closer. The tips of their shoes are touching. They’re so close that Eddie has to tilt his chin up slightly to meet Buck’s eyes.

“That’s good,” Buck says, his voice pitched just as low. “Because it just happens that I really like you too.”

Eddie takes Buck’s hand away from where it’s fiddling with his shirt, intertwining their fingers and bringing their joined hands up between their chests. “So, do you like me enough to kiss me?” he asks. 

Buck’s answering grin is blinding. That’s the only answer he gives before he’s leaning forward, bringing their lips together in a soft, slow kiss.

Eddie immediately presses into it, his free hand coming up to rest at the juncture of Buck’s neck and shoulder. He feels the shudder that runs through Buck in the palm of his hand; feels it echo throughout his own body tenfold. 

Eddie feels as the low-level panic that has been consuming him for the past two weeks fades away, gone like it was never even there in the first place, replaced by a warm sense of rightness that fills him from the inside out. 

Buck kisses with the fiery sort of determination that he approaches so much in his life with. Right now, it seems to be combined with the determination to make Eddie weak in the knees—and Eddie can confirm that he is indeed succeeding. 

They have to come up for air eventually, foreheads pressed together and lips just barely brushing against each other, panting in an attempt to catch their breath. “Buck,” Eddie murmurs into the minuscule gap between them. 

“Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie’s eyes are closed but he can hear the smile in Buck’s voice. He can’t help but smile too. 

Buck’s free hand is on Eddie’s waist, tantalizingly close to the overheated skin just below the scrunched up hem. Eddie wants to feel his touch there. He wants to feel it everywhere. 

“I can’t believe you sent me a dick pic, Eddie.”

“I can’t believe you sent me a dick pic, Buck.”

Buck laughs and presses forward for another slow, open mouthed kiss before pulling away with a slick sound. A bolt of heat shoots through Eddie.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asks

Buck ducks his head away to hide his face away into Eddie’s neck. Eddie can feel the flush of his skin against his own. 

“I was, I don’t know. Nervous, I guess,” Buck says, slightly muffled into Eddie’s neck.

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Eddie says, lips pressed softly to Buck’s ear. “Not with me.”

Eddie feels Buck’s grin a second before he bites gently at the side of Eddie’s neck. “Well, I definitely know that now.”

Eddie groans, nudging Buck’s face up so he can press their lips together again. He squeezes Buck’s hand once, twice, before letting go to snake his arm around Buck’s waist. Their hips press together and Eddie’s breath stutters; he can feel Buck against him, can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of both of their sweatpants. 

Eddie lets himself press even closer. Buck steps back with the force of it, his back hitting the wall, and Eddie follows him, not letting even an inch of space grow between them. Buck moans into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s reached heaven. 

“So,” Eddie manages to get out in between fervent, open-mouthed and sloppy kisses, “I’ve heard the real thing is better than in pictures.”

“Who’s the bold one now?” Buck laughs, shoving a thigh between Eddie’s legs.

Eddie pinches at Buck’s side. “Take me to bed, won’t you?”

They stumble down the hallway, Eddie giggling as Buck’s mismatched clothes drop to the ground as they go, his own landing on top of them. 

“Did you get dressed with the lights off or something?” he asks against Buck’s lips as he shimmies his sweatpants down past his hips. 

“Didn’t want to waste, shit, waste any time getting here.”

“Good.”

Buck places both hands on Eddie’s chest and pushes him down onto his bed, following a second later. He straddles Eddie’s hips, his arms braced on either side of Eddie’s head as he looks down at him. 

“You drive me crazy, Eddie,” he says, voice low like Eddie’s never heard it before. Eddie feels out of breath. 

“Show me?”

Buck’s breath stutters. “Jesus Christ.” He dips down to place a hot, all consuming and nerve tingling kiss to Eddie’s lips before pulling away with a devilish grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll show you,” he says, and proceeds to do just that. 

Eddie wakes up to a heavy, warm arm slung across his waist and snoring directed straight into his ear. 

He wakes up happier than he has been in a really, really long time. 

He reaches to his bedside table to grab his phone—careful not to jostle Buck who’s holding him from behind and still asleep—and checks the time. He has just under two hours till he’ll have to get up in order to pick Christopher up on time. He’s about to put his phone back down and go back to sleep when he sees a notification on his home screen: a text from Buck, timestamped from four hours ago, near three in the morning. 

He frowns in confusion as he unlocks his phone and opens the message, which immediately morphs into an exasperated smile and a roll of his eyes. 

Buck had sent a picture taken, he assumes, sometime in the middle of the night; it’s a selfie capturing a rather unfortunate angle of Eddie’s own sleeping face taken from right in front of him, Buck’s grinning face half visible behind his shoulder from where he’s been spooning him. It’s an objectively ugly photo of Eddie, the flash that had somehow not woken him up lighting up his cheek smushed into his pillow and mouth opened unattractively as he drools, hair all over the place. But Buck’s excited and happy smile behind him is just too damn adorable for Eddie to be too peeved about it. 

“Idiot,” he huffs, but it’s incredibly fond. 

Eddie quickly opens his camera app and switches it to selfie mode, holding it above his body awkwardly to capture both him and Buck on the screen. He grins, showing all his teeth, while making sure Buck is in the middle of an exceptionally loud snore when he takes the photo. He quickly sends it to Buck, then places his phone back on the bedside table and snuggles back under the covers and into Buck's arms. 

Eddie smiles to himself, and as he drifts off back to sleep he muses over the prospect of honeymooning in Scotland. Maybe Iceland. He’ll have to ask Buck his thoughts when they wake up. But for now, he’s perfectly content right where he is.