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The first night back in Los Angeles, Buck insisted on sleeping alone.
He wouldn’t have called it stubbornness — he left that honor to both Maddie and Eddie, who repeatedly insisted he reconsider. But he was certain that he would be fine on his own, sleeping in his own bed in his own room in his own house. There was nothing more to be said; what happened happened, and now he could move forward.
Alone, in his house, he pushed down any doubts he had. Sure, he had only been living in his current place for less than a year, and sure, the feeling of home had yet to sink into the walls, but he was fine. Comfortable. He was a grown adult who could handle a few bumps in the night on his own.
The first night back in Los Angeles, Buck woke up screaming.
His blankets, once a barrier between him and the outside world, now served to choke him, drawn up to his throat by his own hands. The adrenaline shot through him like a shockwave, like electricity, and suddenly he was choking on his own blood, biting through his tongue at each jolt of a cattle prod, jerking and falling —
The ground was welcome underneath him, his body slamming into it once he tossed himself from the bed. It forced him awake, knocking the blanket away from him and granting him just enough mental clarity to remember where he slept. There was no blood in his mouth, no cattle prod in his side: just cuts and bruises, all dulling as the time passed.
He was in his bedroom. He wasn’t in Derek’s room, wasn’t surrounded by years of dust and the residual grime of whoever had been Derek before him.
He found his phone anyways (or Maddie’s phone, which she was gracious enough to let him borrow while he waited for his replacement), knocked to the ground by his fight with himself. His hands trembled as he swiped, the phone shaking in his hands and rendering it almost unusable. Almost.
“Buck?” Eddie’s voice groaned into his ear, gravelly with sleep, “it’s two in the morning. Are you okay?”
“I’m not Derek,” Buck choked out. It wasn’t what he meant to say, but he wasn’t sure what words he was expecting to spill from him anyways. “I’m Buck, not Derek.”
“You’re Buck,” Eddie said, voice clearer and laced with concern. “You’ve always been Buck and you’ll always be Buck, okay? Stay on the phone with me.”
Time was always fluid when the stars were out. The only light cast into Buck’s room was from the occasional passing car, headlights slipping through the small crack between Buck’s curtains. Each pass made him start just a little, a small breath escaping him. It wasn’t quite like the cracks in the basement walls in Bonnie’s house, but it took him back there nonetheless. He shook his own hands, reminding himself that he wasn’t tied up, that there was no gun to his head. He was in Los Angeles. He was Buck.
The front door snapped open and shut, barely audible through Buck’s own closed bedroom door, but he caught the sound anyways. There came a whisper, followed by the unmistakable clicking sound of crutches passing down the hallway.
A knock rapped softly against his door. “Buck? It’s me. Can I come in?”
Eddie. Buck became rapidly aware that he was still on the floor, still partially caught in his blanket. He responded anyways. “Yeah.”
The knob twisted slowly, cautiously in a way that Buck sort of hated. Eddie slipped in through a barely cracked door, still clad in pajama pants and an oversized shirt. He looked exhausted, the minimal light catching the swollen bags under his eyes. Buck couldn’t help but feel guilty and ever so small. “Sorry.”
Eddie scoffed and knelt down in front of him. “Don’t be sorry,” he scolded, but it was laced with too much concern to bite. His hands went to Buck’s face, to his neck, across his torso, down his arms.
Cataloguing, Buck realized. Hesitating at each patch of raised skin, at the pulse points and the stitches. There was a slight tremble to Eddie’s hands, as if he was just as worried about Buck disappearing underneath him as Buck was about teleporting back to that damned house.
His hand shot to Eddie’s wrist, his own fingers wrapping to squeeze Eddie’s pulse. Elevated, he noted. “I’m okay,” Buck said, and for the most part it wasn’t a lie. “I just woke up and freaked out. It’s okay.”
Eddie froze for a second, eyes searching Buck’s for something, before he finally sagged beneath him. “It’s okay if you’re not okay, Buck,” he told him firmly. “You don’t have to go through all of this on your own.”
“I’m not alone,” Buck said. He ignored the emotional distance he was holding Eddie at. Distance aside, he was still holding him in the first place. “I have you, right?”
“You have as much of me as you’ll let yourself have,” Eddie grumbled, but he stood, slipping his hands beneath Buck’s armpits to pull him up with him. “Now come on, let’s get back to bed.”
He helped Buck step out of the blanket from where it had pooled at his ankles, herding him back into his bed. He left the comforter where it was on the ground, instead opting for the soft throw that usually lived at the foot of the bed. He draped it over Buck, and for a moment it felt so loving that Buck was afraid he would tear up.
Once Buck was settled, Eddie didn’t leave him as he expected. Instead, he crossed to the other side of the bed and crawled in, settling himself into the space as if he belonged there. Alarmingly, Buck sort of felt like he did. “Eddie?”
“Chris is in your spare room, and I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Eddie grumbled, already sounding like he was half asleep. “Go to sleep, Buckley. We can talk in the morning.”
Buck didn’t resist, partially because he felt guilty that Eddie had come all this way for a minor freakout, and partially because something within him felt so settled now, like Eddie next to him had been a piece that was missing.
Buck didn’t know what to make of that. He was too tired to try to make anything of it now, anyways. So instead, he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Eddie beside him remind him where he was.
_____
Buck woke up with a face in his neck, warm and wet air blowing rhythmically against his skin. His arms were full of Eddie, holding him tightly against himself, fingers gripping firmly enough into Eddie’s shirt that he was afraid he was stretching it. Their legs were slotted together, a sandwich of Buck then Eddie then Buck then Eddie.
Eddie, for all that Buck could see of him, did not seem upset with the arrangement. He was still deep in sleep, but he was holding Buck just as securely, bottom arm locked around his torso as a snare and top one (the injured one) draped over him protectively, like he was afraid there was any world in which Buck would try to escape him. Ridiculous.
Buck didn’t want to move. Eddie had looked so tired in the middle of the night, and he already felt guilty enough that he had woken him in the first place. His arm was going slightly numb, and the breath against his neck tickled, but it was a small price to pay. He would have gone through worse for Eddie.
Luckily for him, however, he did not have to wait long. The sound of Chris moving about the house played muffled through the closed bedroom door, and like any good father, Eddie grumbled and shifted, slowly waking against Buck in response.
“Ugh,” he groaned. He shuffled impossibly closer to Buck, close enough that Buck was concerned about potential nuclear fusion. “Five more minutes.”
Buck sighed, his hand rubbing absentmindedly against Eddie’s back. “I don’t think we have five more minutes,” he told him. “Chris is probably going to find the eggs any minute now.”
Eddie cracked an eye open, his lashes tickling against Buck’s neck. “He’s so bad at making scrambled eggs. He keeps leaving pieces of shell in.”
“You eat it anyways.”
“I’m not wasteful,” Eddie said, like he was offended Buck would suggest doing anything else besides eat crunchy eggs, “but I also think we should maybe beat him to it.”
Buck let his arms fall away from Eddie. He felt oddly mournful about it, colder than he had any right to be. “Come on, then. We gotta get up.”
Eddie groaned, but he pulled away anyways, stretching his arms above him and yawning as he went. He looked soft in this light, vulnerable in a way that Buck liked more than he should have. It almost felt intrusive to see him like this, a thought he immediately rebuked. There wasn’t an environment left that was too intimate for them at this point.
Eddie slipped out of the bed, shooting a look at Buck. It made Buck realize that he was still laying there, staring dumbly at the man in front of him. “You coming?” Eddie asked, humor laced but gentle nonetheless.
Buck shook off the fog surrounding his brain. “Yeah,” he said, legs already scrambling off the mattress, “yeah, I’m coming.”
Chris was, as he predicted, gathering the ingredients and tools for scrambled eggs. Luckily, they had gotten there before he could actually try his hand at cracking any eggs, early enough that Eddie could press a kiss to his begrudging head and slip in front of him at the counter. “Hey, champ. Thanks for getting everything set up. You should relax, and we’ll get this all ready for you.”
It was smooth enough that Chris didn’t call him out on hit, instead opting to turn to find his way to the couch. He bumped his shoulder against Buck on his way out. “Hey, Buck.”
“Hey, man,” Buck said back easily, only just resisting the urge to ruffle Chris’s hair. “You sleep okay?”
“Your guest bedroom needs a new mattress topper,” Chris told him. “I’ve slept on softer rocks than that.”
“When have you slept on a rock?”
Chris waved him off. “Details. I’ll send you links.”
Buck could swallow the pill of an unanticipated hundred dollar purchase. At least he could swallow it with a mouthful of shell-free eggs. “Sure, yeah. Give me your top three and I'll pick something out.”
By the time Buck turned his attention back on Eddie, he already had a full dozen eggs cracked, beating them with a fork as if Buck didn't have a perfectly good whisk in the utensils drawer. “What add-ins?” Eddie asked casually. “I saw you already had some chopped up peppers. I'm trying to convince Chris that more culinary freedom doesn't mean he can choose less vegetables, so those are definitely going in.”
“Maybe some sausage,” Buck added automatically, before shaking his head and sliding into place next to him. “I mean, you really don't have to do this. You should relax. I can make us breakfast.”
Eddie shot him a side-eye. “Just because I have one bad arm doesn't mean I'm useless.”
On the contrary, Buck was already eyeing how the bowl was slowly shifting across the counter with each beat of the fork. “For sure.”
“And you –” Eddie interrupted his whisking to point the fork at Buck, at which point Buck took the opportunity to casually grab the bowl to hold it steady, “– should not be trusted with forks any time soon.”
“Are you going to make me eat my eggs with a spoon?” Buck asked, bemused.
“Spork at most.”
Eddie gestured towards the fridge with his shoulder. “Want to get me the inclusions?”
“So you can knock the bowl right off the counter?” Buck asked incredulously. “Get it yourself, Mr. Useful.”
Buck liked this. He liked making eggs with Eddie in the kitchen in the morning, liked existing in the liminal space they occupied before coffee hit their veins. He liked getting to joke and tease as if Buck hadn't collapsed off his bed before the sun even hinted at rising, as if Buck hadn't called Eddie like a lighthouse to a ship.
And Buck knew Eddie would let him float like this through the rest of breakfast. He caught the glances Eddie shot him, because it was impossible for Buck not to notice Eddie. Buck ignored them steadfast, keeping the conversation flowing, teasing Chris for trying to pick around the little squares of peppers and calling Eddie a hypocrite when he saw him douse his own coffee with enough sugar to fully set a concrete mixer.
But breakfast ended, seeing as Buck wasn't nearly lucky enough to stretch out a meal long enough for Eddie to forget why he was at Buck's in the first place. Chris was only too happy to retreat to the guest bedroom. Buck watched him leave and mourned the days when Chris wanted to spend time with them.
Once Chris was gone, Eddie started stacking their plates. “You may as well go start packing a bag now,” he said casually, as if they had already discussed whatever idea Eddie was having. “Chris is going to Andrew's at one, so I figured we'll just hang out here until then.”
“Right, you and Chris,” Buck said slowly, “and then you and Chris will leave.”
Eddie looked bemused. “Uh, no. Obviously you're included in we.”
Buck could see where this was going. “Eddie, no. You have to deal with your arm, and with healing, and you have your own set of issues. You don't need to be babysitting me.”
“You're a fully grown man, Buck,” Eddie snorted. “If anything it'd be mansitting.”
“Eddie,” Buck pleaded.
“Buck,” Eddie mocked. “Seriously, you'll be doing me a favor.”
“How is watching me a favor?”
For a moment, Eddie froze, hand around a half-empty glass. Buck could see the water shake slightly. Finally, Eddie said, “You weren't the only one who went through something out there.”
Buck was taken back to the car ride back to Los Angeles. Eddie had talked about finding him casually, like he had just happened to stumble upon him while looking for someone else. But he remembered the looks on the cops' faces, the stiffness of the nurses at the hospital, like they were afraid Buck would up and run at any moment. As if Eddie had upped and ran.
Buck knew better than to ask Eddie for details. He was sure they would come out eventually. What Buck did know was that while he may have been taken, he was taken from Eddie.
And now, with Eddie's grip tight on the glass, stacking it into Buck's empty one, he could understand why Eddie might have been hesitant to let him out of his sight.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay. I'll pack a bag. You have to let me help you too, though. Don't think I haven't noticed you avoiding using your arm.”
“It's not avoidance,” Eddie said weakly.
“Okay, so what is it?”
Eddie hesitated. “Optimization?”
Buck threw a piece of bread crust at him. “Go load the dishwasher, weirdo.”
_____
It was almost weird to be back in Eddie's bedroom turned Buck's bedroom turned Eddie's bedroom. Their stuff was oddly mixed by now, remnants of what both of them had left behind at one point or another all living together into one hodge-podge of a design. Not quite Buck's space, but not all Eddie's either.
Either way, it was breathtakingly familiar in a way that Buck's own bedroom wasn't, at least not quite yet. He didn't often sleep in the same bed as Eddie, but he stayed over frequently enough that he knew exactly where all of Eddie's most oversized clothes were kept, knew exactly what to sleep in and what to wear home the next day.
Now, though, he was sliding into Eddie's bed, on the side the furthest from the door because Eddie would sometimes get up in the middle of the night to check on Chris. The pillow smelled like Eddie's shampoo, the blanket like detergent.
It felt natural to be here. It felt logical for Eddie to be slipping under the covers beside him, turning off the lamp as he went.
Buck didn't miss casual dating as much as he missed the warmth of a body. Eddie fulfilled that well, radiating softly next to him as his own personal sunshine. It was magnetic, enough so that Buck had to resist the urge to shift closer.
Eddie had no such qualms. He turned to face Buck, an easy arm reaching out to drape across his waist as if this was something they did. It wasn't, but that didn't seem to matter. “Thank you,” Eddie said, slow and quiet. “I know I was pushy about you staying here.”
Something about the dark of the room made space for honesty. Buck didn't have to look at Eddie, could pretend that he was talking to no one. In a pitch-black bedroom, he couldn't remember why he hadn't talked to Eddie in the first place.
“I wasn't thinking,” Buck whispered back. “I just didn't want to be a burden, and I never really considered that staying away would be the burden.”
Eddie scooted closer, close enough to drop his head onto Buck's chest, ear pressed into the space where pec became shoulder.
They laid that way for a while, Eddie's head rising with each of Buck's breaths. He found he liked the weight of it. Buck resisted the urge to bury his nose into the nest of his hair.
“They thought I was your husband,” Eddie finally said, cutting quiet through the dark of the room. “Kept implying it. Thought that I murdered you because, well, it's always the spouse, right?”
“I mean, statistically it's pretty common,” Buck said, because he couldn't say I would be glad if you killed me, if it meant I was your husband. If that was something he would have wanted to say, anyways.
Eddie huffed and shifted his arm, fingers flexing to grip at the soft fat of his waist. “I had to break out of the hospital room,” he told him. “I jumped out a window. Hitchhiked on a horse to get back to the diner.”
Buck didn't know what to say to that. How could he put into words how grateful he was that Eddie had done that for him? How he had never expected anything less from him? How he would never ask him to do that in the first place?
Instead, he wrapped an arm around him. “I'm sorry,” he said, and it didn't feel like enough.
“I woke up in that hospital, and I didn’t know where you were,” Eddie choked out. “I always know where you are. I don't know how to handle not knowing where you are.”
Buck shifted, rolling just enough to wrap a leg around one of Eddie’s, pulling him ever so much closer. “You can microchip me like a dog,” he said firmly. “Put a GPS tracker in me. I don't want you to ever feel like that again.”
“Yeah, you fucker,” Eddie said, sagging into Buck and taking the affection freely given. “Can't believe you did that to me.”
“I'll never do it again.” It wasn't a promise Buck could technically make, but he said it anyway. He would find a way to keep it. He would tie himself to Eddie, or he would stitch their veins together one blood vessel at a time. Anything to keep a promise for Eddie.
_____
They woke up tangled again. It wasn't that unexpected, considering they had fallen asleep knotted together, but it still hit Buck like a ray of light.
He liked being that close to Eddie. He liked how it felt to be wrapped up in him. He liked how they fit together, arms slotting around waists slotting into sides slotting between legs.
It was enough that he almost forgot that he had slept soundly. He was waking with the sun, no earlier and no later, his head clear and fog subsided.
It was almost odd, waking up okay. While he had been in the hospital after being rescued, he had existed in an odd fugue state, shifting between awake and asleep like it was a line to walk. It wasn't like he slept in the car ride back to LA. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he had slept so soundly. Probably long before Nashville, anyways.
He wasn't sure if it was the same for Eddie. He would have guessed so, based on the way his head burrowed deeper and deeper into his shoulder. Buck gave into his urges and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his hair.
Eddie grumbled against him, fingers flexing and releasing. “S'time is it?”
Buck tilted just enough to check the clock on the nightstand, bringing Eddie with him. “Eight-thirty. If we don't get up, our sleep schedules are gonna be fucked.”
“They're already fucked,” Eddie groaned. “The jetlag was bad enough on its own. This has to be, like, jetlag plus.”
“Jetlag: Extended Edition.”
“Exactly.” Eddie squeezed his leg around Buck's. “What if we just sleep for a whole day? Then we'll still be on track.”
“Chris has homework to do,” Buck reminded him. “We gotta be awake in case he needs help.”
“We know fuck-all about what he's taking,” Eddie complained, but he was extracting himself from Buck anyways, doing the work for both of them as deciding whose limbs belonged to whom.
Buck already regretted saying anything, mourning the contact like it was his own limbs he was losing. “We can try,” he said instead, and his own body chased Eddie's from three feet behind, out of the bed and into the day.
_____
Buck's pillow smelled no less like Eddie the next night. If anything, somehow, it was like his shampoo scent had sunk into the fabric tenfold, which didn't make any sense considering how Buck had served as Eddie's pillow last night.
Tonight, when Eddie slipped under the covers next to him, he hesitated for a moment. It was long enough that Eddie could probably feel him freeze, but Buck broke before Eddie could comment on it, this time choosing to be the one to initiate, shuffling over and draping himself over Eddie.
Buck immediately felt an itch under his skin mellow. There was something about the drag of his hand down Eddie's arm, the way his nose slotted into the divot of his collarbone, the softness of Eddie's overwashed tee, that made his heart settle in his chest.
Eddie responded in kind, wrapping a gentle arm around his waist like it belonged there. It did, Buck thought. Belong there. He wasn't sure what that meant; he melted into it anyways.
Eddie turned the light off, shuffled until he was comfortable. Buck let himself be adjusted easily.
“I think God is punishing me for not being an electrician,” Buck told the room.
Eddie choked on nothing, arm spasming around Buck. “Excuse me?”
“All I'm saying is that I should really watch out for electric fences,” Buck said, and he tried to make it eke out as a joke, but it fell flat even to his own ears. There was something too tense about the way he said it, too raw.
Eddie didn't forgive the tone. “What happened?” Eddie asked, hesitant, like he'd been waiting for permission. “What happened with electricity?”
Buck tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but he only succeeded in making it sink deeper, swell larger. “I –”
“It's okay if you can't,” Eddie interrupted, “tell me, that is. It's okay. You don't have to.”
Sometimes, Buck wondered if Eddie's hesitation was to respect Buck's boundaries or because he didn't see himself as worth confiding in. He hoped it was the former, but he couldn't help but think…
“You know about the lightning,” Buck murmured. He shifted even closer, tilting his chin up so his words could go directly to Eddie's ear. His lips grazed against his earlobe as he spoke. “It really fucked me up. For a long time.”
“I know,” Eddie said, about the lightning, about all of it. He had been there in the aftermath. He knew. “It fucked me up, too.”
“I figured,” Buck said. “We never really talked about it. About you.”
“I gave you CPR,” Eddie whispered, and it sounded like a curse. “I felt your ribs giving out under my hands, and I had to keep going. I can't – I couldn't cope with that. And you lived, so it was okay, but all the fear stayed.”
Buck's hand drifted to Eddie's neck, to his pulse point. Cataloguing. “I know. I've felt the same way about you before.”
Neither said it, but both understood. This wasn't about a gunshot in the street. Not now, anyways. Maybe eventually.
“I know,” Eddie said softly. “Yeah, I – I know.”
There weren't words beyond that. Eddie had been there, and Buck had been there, and they both knew how each other's minds would have raced, because they knew each other. That was it.
“In New Mexico,” Buck started, “I had tried to resist. It's all kinda blurry, I don't remember what I specifically did, but I know I told her that I wasn't Derek. That I'm not Derek. And she didn't,” he gulped, mouth dry, “she didn't like that.”
Eddie didn't say anything, instead opting to pull Buck in closer by the waist. Buck was grateful for the proximity; it reminded him of where he was.
“She used a cattle prod on me.” The words slipped out unbidden. “She shocked me until I agreed to be Derek.”
Something small and sad fell from Eddie's throat, fingers gripping at Buck's side. “Buck –”
“And I didn't want to be Derek,” Buck said stubbornly. “I fought like hell, okay? I tried to tell her so many times, but she just didn't want to listen.”
“She didn't want to hear it,” Eddie said gently. “She wasn't okay. It wasn't anything you could help. You can't reason with someone like that. She – She could have killed you, she had killed before.”
Buck knew that, logically. From the way the couple had spoken to each other, he knew that story had ended differently for people before him. But he couldn't help but wonder –
“I know you like to fix things,” Eddie whispered, “but some situations are beyond fixing. Sometimes, things are just shitty.”
“Yeah,” Buck said.
“And you're never going near anything electric ever again,” Eddie said stubbornly, slicing neatly through the tension that had built in the room. Buck slumped, strings cut, right into Eddie. “I'm the only one allowed to use the kettle from now on.”
“You use the wrong settings,” Buck bemoaned. “There's literally a white tea temperature setting. Stop bringing the water to a rolling boil for oolong. You have to consider the integrity of the leaves.”
“Oh yes, leaf integrity.” Eddie prodded at Buck's side. “That's one of my top priorities.”
Buck choked his laugh right into Eddie's ear, and dug his fingers into his sensitive side as protest, and it felt right. It felt good. It felt safe.
_____
“This looks cozy.”
Buck blinked awake, eyelashes brushing against the skin where Eddie's shoulder met his neck. He turned his head just enough to look past Eddie, out to where Chris stood over them. He was already fully dressed and looked remarkably awake. Perhaps less remarkable, once Buck noticed just how bright the sunlight was in the bedroom.
Eddie groaned beneath him, one arm reaching out to shoo away Chris. “Five more minutes, Dad.”
“You're so lucky it's a teacher work day,” Chris told him. “Otherwise we'd be about two hours late right now.”
Eddie's eyes shot open. “Shit.”
“Happy Monday,” Chris said, grinning like mad. “I'm going to go play Minecraft with Denny. We're doing bedwars today.”
“Is that English?”
“Bye Dad, bye Buck!”
Chris left quickly, leaving Buck and Eddie only half awake and fully confused in the bedroom. Eddie turned to face Buck, chin smacking into Buck's nose. “Was that English?”
“Vaguely,” Buck grumbled, nose sore.
“Should I be concerned about it?”
“Nah,” Buck said, already closing his eyes again and snuggling into Eddie. “Minecraft is pretty safe. It's Roblox you gotta watch out for.”
“All these block games,” Eddie yawned, face pressing into Buck's hair. “Thank god I have you to keep them straight.”
“Yeah,” Buck said, half asleep. “You have me.”
_____
“My parents asked me if I was gay once,” Eddie whispered into the room.
They were spooning this time, Eddie's back to Buck's front. Buck liked being able to hold him closely like this, to slot his arms into the soft space beneath his ribs like armor.
He was sure the words came easier to Eddie like this. Buck couldn't see Eddie's face, and Eddie couldn't see his. He was sure Eddie could feel his heart though, feel it thumping where it pressed in the space between his shoulder blades.
“What'd you say?” Buck asked quietly.
“Nothing, at first,” Eddie said. “I was young, maybe eight or nine, and I wasn't expecting it. Hell, it was El Paso in the nineties. I barely knew anything about gay people at that point, let alone if I was one of them.”
“Were they… kind about it?”
“Oh, sure.” It sounded like a scoff. “They weren't mean, at least. My mom had already said a few times by then about how much she loved ‘The Gays’.”
Buck winced, strong enough that Eddie clasped a hand over Buck's own, right over his gut, and squeezed. He left their fingers laced together. “They aren't bigots or anything. They're just –”
Eddie sighed, gripped Buck's hand a little tighter. “They said it'd be okay if I was, right? But then they also said that they were worried for me, that gay people have a harder time in life. They said they never wanted me to struggle.”
Buck understood. “So not anti-gay, just –”
“Concerned for their son,” Eddie finished. “Concerned enough that they would have rather the world liked me but I hated myself.”
“Fuck, Eddie.”
“And, I mean, I got it,” Eddie continued. “At least my struggles would be internal. No one would be beating me up, or calling me names, or taking away opportunities. Hell, I think they were almost glad that I was a teen dad, because at least that meant I was fucking a girl.”
Buck didn't interrupt. He wanted to. He wanted to tell Eddie the world wasn't always so unkind, that there were people out there who cared, that there were people who loved unapologetically.
But he also knew what the snide looks could feel like. He knew that he was lucky to be in LA, that his bubble was undeniably queer in a way that most certainly the Diaz family's had never been. He knew there were more good moments than bad, far more kindness than cruelty, but the cruelty bit deeper and shook hard enough to shred the skin.
“I think I always knew on some level that I wasn't straight,” Eddie said quietly, “but I always hoped to god that that didn't mean I was gay.”
Buck's heart clenched. He had been so fortunate, really, that he had never struggled with his sexuality. He had never been taught to feel shame over it, so he never suffered for it.
He wished, so desperately, that he could shake all the people who ever made Eddie want to be less of himself. He wanted to slap them across the face, tell them that here was the best man he ever knew, and how could the world ever be a better place if there was less of him? If he was keeping any part of himself locked up?
This wasn't for him, though. This was for the darkness of the room, words coming out like an exhale, and Buck getting to listen was a privilege, something he would cherish.
“Being in New Mexico, for a second, felt like maybe they were right,” Eddie murmured. “I was called a princess and a fairy. I was accused of killing you. I was profiled again and again, like they thought they knew me just because they thought I was – because they could tell I was gay.”
“They don't know you,” Buck said, unable to stay silent. “They had their stupid beliefs and their prejudices.”
“They knew a part of me I wasn't ready to share yet,” Eddie countered. “How was that not knowing me?”
“They saw what they wanted to see,” Buck insisted. He pulled Eddie tighter into his chest. “They saw that you weren't straight, sure, but the rest of it was all hateful bullshit. That – that's not you. That's all them.”
“Isn't it both?”
“No. Eddie, you're not some stereotype. You're a father, you're a firefighter, you're a kind man, who would do literally anything for anyone, even if it meant you'd hurt yourself in the process. You give and you give and sometimes I think maybe you're afraid to take back for yourself. And you always squirt ketchup into a smiley face on your burgers, and you only buy pink fuzzy socks because you think the color makes them softer. You're – you're so good, okay? And you're more than whatever a bunch of bigots think they see.”
Buck felt vulnerable. He said nothing about himself, and yet he felt as though he had splayed his organs for Eddie to see, for him to pick through the sinew and to find something that Buck never knew was there.
He was sure Eddie felt the same, the way he trembled in Buck's arms. “It's hard,” he said, wet enough that Buck knew he was crying, “when the first time someone's seen that about you, it's with hate. They were mean, Buck.”
“I know.” Buck couldn't have held Eddie tighter. Still, he tried, weaving their legs together and ducking his chin over Eddie's shoulder.
He couldn't say much else. He didn't want to. He could tell it was cathartic, could feel the strain leaving Eddie's body with each shake.
It wasn't the time to speak. It was the time to be there, to hold Eddie close enough that he could never forget that he wouldn't have to struggle alone, even if they could only acknowledge it when the sun went down.
_____
For the first time since that terrible first night back in LA, Buck woke up alone. The other side of the mattress had gone cold, cold enough that Buck knew Eddie had left a long while ago.
His heart picked up, figuring the worst possible situations, that maybe Eddie regretted being so open last night, that they had gone a step too far, that he needed space from Buck.
He picked up his new phone, ready to call Maddie, to get him out a space where maybe he wasn't wanted, when he noticed the time.
Ten minutes before Chris's classes started. Just late enough where Eddie had to decide whether or not to wake Buck up to come with them, where he probably was even on the way back from drop-off right now.
Buck thought that maybe this method of communication wasn't sustainable. Maybe talking to a dark room wasn't the way to do things, no matter how open and honest you were being.
Because Eddie was talking to him, but Buck was still freaking out. And if he was panicking, maybe Eddie was doing the same. And maybe, just maybe, it was time to do something about that.
_____
They laid side by side in bed, shoulders pressed together. It was probably the most chaste they had been since this whole thing had begun, together yet inexplicably separate.
Buck didn't like it, but he thought maybe they needed it. “Things have been sorta weird since New Mexico,” he started.
“An understatement,” Eddie snorted.
“Shush,” Buck chided, no heat behind it. “Things have been weird, okay?”
“Good weird?” Eddie asked.
“Just… weird.”
Buck tried to think on when things shifted, but he wasn't sure if anything had really changed. Not internally, at least.
“I'm thinking,” Buck said slowly, “that maybe it isn't normal for two friends to lean on each other like this. I know that we've been through a trauma together, but this is more than that.”
Eddie stayed quiet for a moment, letting just enough paranoia build up in Buck's mind before responding. “I think I'm afraid of change,” he admitted.
“Me too.”
“This isn't really a change though, is it?” Eddie asked. “I mean, I knew I needed you close after this. I needed to know where you were and that you were safe, but the rest of it? I think maybe it was what I wanted the whole time. I think I've always wanted to be close to you.”
“I'd crawl inside you if I could,” Buck admitted. “Sometimes I think about handcuffing us together by the spinal columns, and I actually think it's a good idea.”
“I think I want you for forever,” Eddie told him, “and that scares me. I don’t usually get to keep things for forever.”
“I'll literally graft myself to you, Eddie. If you want to keep me forever, I'll make it happen.”
“You could,” Eddie said. “I'd let you.”
Buck let the quiet stretch between them. He didn't make any motion to close the space, no matter how much he wanted to. “I think I'm scared that you'll only want me at night,” Buck admitted, “or that maybe this is something we can't have when the sun comes out.”
Eddie made a hurt noise. “It's you and me, Buck. The dark is the scariest part of the day. If we can have each other when it's dark, we can have each other when it's light, too.”
“The dark hasn't been scary,” Buck confessed. “Not since I called you. There hasn't been a night with you where I've been scared.”
Eddie reached out just enough to entwine their hands, fingers fitting between fingers like they had always been there. “Then I guess none of it is scary at all, huh?”
“Yeah,” Buck said quietly, marveling at the feel of Eddie's skin, “I guess not.”
_____
Buck woke up to an alarm. It was probably the first time he had woken up early on purpose since Nashville, set just at sunrise so he could go with Eddie to drop off Chris today.
They weren't wrapped up together, instead each settled on their own sides. It almost felt more intimate that way to Buck. More domestic, more secure, like maybe they had been overcompensating this whole time.
Eddie's arm failed out, slapping at his phone repeatedly until the Marimba alarm cut out. Eddie groaned and rolled over to face Buck. He leaned forward and, like this was something they normally did, pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Good morning.”
The sun was rising. The birds were chirping outside, the house was quiet, and the sun was just beginning to peek through the window, and Buck was allowed to have this. It was morning, and Eddie kissed Buck like it was natural, and it was.
Buck surged forward, hand shooting up to cup Eddie's jaw, and he kissed him soundly, morning breath be damned. He pulled back after a few moments, when the urge to hear Eddie's voice grew stronger than the urge to kiss him.
“Hi,” Buck said breathlessly. “Uh, very good morning.”
Eddie smiled, something sweet and private that Buck couldn't believe he got to have now. “Good morning. I, uh, set the alarm pretty early. We still have about an hour until Chris wakes up. Just figured we should talk.”
Talking was somehow the furthest thing from Buck's mind now that he knew they had time. His eyes were caught on Eddie's lips and the way they moved, the way his tongue stuck out slightly with his stutter.
Buck, wide awake, rolled on top of Eddie, legs bracketing him in and holding him there, one arm planted on either side of his head. “We've been doing a lot of talking,” Buck said. He leaned down, just enough to ghost his lips over the length of Eddie's jaw. “Maybe we could try doing something else.”
“Something else, for sure,” Eddie said quickly, tilting his head back to expose his throat, a temptation Buck quickly followed with his teeth. “I pick something else.”
Buck grinned against his neck and nipped lightly at the strained muscle. “We have to be quiet, though,” he muttered, already entranced by the taste of Eddie's skin.
He pulled back just enough to get a good look at Eddie's face. The breaking light cast across his face, a line of gold that Buck traced with a gentle finger, dragging across the high of his cheekbone and the bridge of his nose.
Effervescent, he thought. There was something otherworldly about the way Eddie absorbed the light, like they were made of the same thing. He could see that light gleaming playfully from Eddie's eyes too. Buck wanted to kiss them.
Eddie reached a hand up to the back of Buck's head, tangling his fingers in the curls. He tugged lightly, just enough to get Buck's attention. “Whatever you want,” he told him. “Seriously. I know I'm eager, and that we would have to be quiet, and we're on a time crunch –”
Buck cut him off with his lips, kissing him hot and heavy and deep until he thought he might die of oxygen deprivation. He also thought that might be the best way to go, but he needed more time, more kisses, so he pulled back to breathe. “It's perfect,” Buck said. “You're perfect.”
Eddie blushed crimson at that, the wine stain of his cheeks captivating Buck anew. “I haven't done this before. With a guy.”
“So we'll go slow,” Buck said. A part of him, deep and somewhat ugly, was happy that no one else had gotten Eddie like this, and no one else ever would. The larger part of him knew that it didn't matter anyways, because what he and Eddie had could never compare to what anyone else could have provided.
Buck wanted to consume him, wanted to fuck him with every part of his body, with his heart, with his soul. But he promised to go slow, so instead he slipped a probing hand under the hem of Eddie's shirt, fingers lightly grazing the dips of his muscles. He caught Eddie's eye. “Is this okay?”
“More than,” Eddie whispered, and with the hand still gripping his hair, Eddie pulled Buck down into another kiss, something soft and sweet and far too intimate for the fact that their kisses still numbered countable.
Buck responded in kind, trying to push all the words he had yet to say into Eddie via his mouth, through his tongue, into each of his teeth. His hand slipped higher, moving confidently against soft skin up to his pec, squeezing at the muscle, his thumb circling the hardened nipple.
Eddie threw his head back and hissed, arching his back to press his chest deeper into Buck's hand. Buck took the hint, adjusting to pinch lightly at his nipple. “Sensitive.”
“I didn't know I was,” Eddie gasped out, still somewhat writhing beneath Buck. “No one's – fuck – no one's done this to me before.”
“Good,” Buck whispered hotly, and then because he needed Eddie and he needed him now and he didn't have time to wait for petty things like undressing, he pulled back just far enough to shove his head under Eddie's shirt, marking his path up with his tongue until he could latch onto Eddie's nipple with his teeth.
Eddie keened, something high and sharp that Buck needed to hear again and again, that he would preferably never stop hearing. His hands grappled for something to hold onto, knocking at pillows and phones and whatever else Buck could hear through the shirt. The final slap of palms to wood, coupled with the way Eddie's torso stretched, was unmistakable, and the concept of Eddie being so unmoored that he had to grip the headboard above him for balance had Buck lightheaded.
He had never had such a responsive partner before; or, maybe he had, but this was the first time he was so attuned to them that he could notice the way every cell in his skin seemed to jump at his touch.
Buck kissed his way back down Eddie's abs, pausing right above his waistband. He toyed at it with his fingers, dipping just under the elastic.
“Fuck, Buck, come on,” Eddie groaned through gritted teeth. He lifted his hips up, and Buck took the hint, hooking his fingers in the band and yanking down to mid-thigh.
Eddie's dick hit Buck in the chin, hard and dripping and pretty in a way that he never would have called a dick before. Uncut, the foreskin hiding the soft red of his head, glistening with pre-come. He was large in Buck's hand and unfathomably soft, silky and delicate to the touch.
Buck wanted to taste him, and he wasn't in the business of denying himself – at least, not anymore – so he dipped down and let his tongue trace Eddie's slit.
“Jesus –” One of Eddie's hands shot to his mouth as a fist, and he bit down hard.
Emboldened, Buck took Eddie further into his mouth, gliding down his tongue until his dick was butting up against his throat.
Buck had always liked this part, loved nothing more than pleasing his partner, but knowing this was Eddie inside him, that Eddie was this close to him, that Eddie was dripping down his throat, was intoxicating. Buck closed his eyes and groaned around the intrusion, pressing his tongue against the vein of his cock and sucking him tightly.
Eddie thrust upwards almost involuntarily, making Buck's throat spasm roughly with the intrusion. He was determined to take it, though, to take anything that Eddie was willing to give him, so he simply gripped at Eddie's hips, encouraging him to take whatever he wanted.
Eddie was hesitant about it, almost like he thought Buck would regret it. He led with shallow thrusts, just light jerks of his hips that certainly didn't get him the friction he would need.
It made Buck needier, like he was the one getting underestimated. He wanted Eddie to fuck his mouth, to bruise him, to take and take until there was nothing left he could want. But, no matter how much Buck whined around him, no matter how he looked up at Eddie through the dips of his eyelashes, Eddie refused to go harder.
It was fine, Buck thought. They could work up to it. Eddie had years and years to learn his limits. There was time for him to push.
Instead, he pulled off of Eddie's dick and let it fall to his stomach with a wet thud. He saw now that Eddie was practically trembling, staring down at Buck with wide eyes and struggling to catch his breath.
Buck couldn't resist seeing Eddie like that, doe-eyed and needy, so he surged up to kiss him again, mouths wet and the taste of Eddie still potent on his tongue.
Eddie gave just as good as he got, kissing with a devastating and reckless abandonment that Buck now knew he could never go without. Fuck oxygen: this was all he needed to live.
Eddie ducked his head down to bite at Buck's neck. He was sure he was leaving behind marks, but Buck was grateful for it. He wanted to be covered in Eddie, for the only bruises on him to be from his mouth, to overshadow any marred skin left from New Mexico.
“Do you –” Buck gasped at a particularly fervent bite, “– do you have any lube?”
Eddie reached out lazily towards the nightstand, refusing to separate himself from Buck's neck. Buck took the hint and rummaged through the top drawer blindly until he secured the small bottle.
Buck pulled back, drawing a whine from Eddie. “I know, baby,” he gasped, hands flying to his own pants, pushing frantically until he freed his cock. “Going as fast as I can.”
His own dick was almost painfully hard and dripping wet. For a second, Buck wondered if he even needed the lube in the first place, or if his own pre-come would have been enough for them. But he wanted this to be good for Eddie, wanted it to be perfect and slick and wet, so he flicked open the cap and squeezed what was probably way too much lube onto his palm, bringing it up to his mouth to warm it.
He flung the bottle away, unconcerned with wherever it ended up, and clasped their dicks together in one large hand, spreading the lube across both of them until they gleamed together.
Buck leaned forward, his forehead resting against Eddie's, but his eyes were locked downward, where their cocks were pressed together, where his hand began moving in gentle strokes, pulling them both together.
Eddie groaned, leaning forward to breathe into Buck's mouth, their lips sliding together in some rough amalgamation of a kiss. His eyes were trained downward, hands shifting to grip at Buck's ass, encouraging him to rut against him.
It was beyond sloppy. Hell, this was probably the sloppiest thing Buck had ever done. It was all need and no finesse, just taking from each whatever they needed.
“Shit – Buck, I –” Eddie groaned quietly, fingers pulling at Buck's ass, urging him closer. “I'm so close.”
“Come on –” Buck choked out, no longer concerned about chasing his own pleasure in favor of bringing Eddie over the edge. “Come on, sweetheart, whatever you need, I'll give you anything you want –”
Eddie whined softly into Buck's mouth, hips jerking erratically, and Buck watched as come spilled from him, covering Buck’s hand and both of their dicks. He coaxed his orgasm out of him, continuing to jerk until Eddie was shaking with overstimulation.
Buck tried to pull away, but Eddie refused to let him go. “Take what you need, baby,” he whispered. He pushed his thigh between Buck's legs. “Come on.”
Buck let go of their dicks and wrapped his arms under Eddie's armpits, holding him steady, and began to rut against him. The hair on Eddie's leg dragged slightly painful against his cock, but that only served to make him feel more unhinged. He chased the feeling, grinding helplessly against Eddie's thigh until his own orgasm crested, and he spilled against Eddie, hips shaking and mind reeling.
They laid in silence for a while, simply catching their breath. Buck dropped his head to Eddie's chest and kissed him through his shirt. Eddie reciprocated easily, lips to temple.
“How much time do we have?” Buck groaned.
Eddie whacked at his phone mindlessly before finally picking it up. He cursed. “Thirty minutes until Chris gets up. We gotta shower.”
“You first,” Buck groaned. “You gotta be out of there quick. I'll handle the sheets.”
Eddie held up a loose hand, and Buck smacked it in the closest approximation of a high five that they could handle at the moment. “Go team,” Eddie said.
It felt like an acknowledgement. The conversation wasn't done. There would always be more to say, more to discuss, more to figure out. It was never going to just be simple, but they would do it together. Always together.
“Yeah,” Buck agreed. “Go team.”