Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The thing about Buck is that he wasn’t the kind of guy to deny himself, you only had to look at his record with women to evidence that. And sure, he was a reformed guy these days, but Buck 2.0 was more of an active effort that a software update, if he were being honest with himself. Heck, it’d taken one drink from Taylor and he’d been right back where he started, fucking with his partner’s hand over his mouth to avoid being discovered in a semi-public place. So yeah, he was learning restraint. Especially recently, what with the no junk food, no red meat, no alcohol, health kick craze he had going on.

Maybe that’s why when he saw Eddie across the firehouse, frenetically lifting weights, muscles flexing, coated in sweat from the exertion— he went over. Maybe willpower really was a finite resource, like Baumeister thought, and his had finally ran out. But then again, he and Eddie were friends, and they often worked out together at work. This was normal behaviour for him, for them. It didn’t have anything to do with the sheer surface area of exposed skin, the bead of sweat dripping down the curve of Eddie’s neck that he resolutely wasn’t watching.

“You’re here early,” Buck commented, normally, in a normal voice. He kind of wanted to lick it.

“I’m avoiding not having sex.”

Buck choked on his own saliva, but managed to repeat, faintly, “To avoid… not having sex?”

Eddie dropped the weights, which frankly was necessary if he wanted Buck to process anything he was about to say. “Let me ask you a question, was your family very religious when you were growing up?”

Buck’s family was decidedly not, they were the kind of family who didn’t go to church, didn’t pray, and he was never even Christened, but if anyone were to acknowledge as much it would be all “Of course we’re good, God-fearing Christians, how dare you imply otherwise.” But his parents hang ups on not wanting to admit to atheism weren’t his, and he was altogether neutral about the whole thing.

For Eddie it was different, he’d been brought up in a certain kind of way, to believe a certain kind of thing. Buck could imagine that even when you don’t believe, that having faith as the cornerstone of your upbringing would have an impact on you, what you thought was good, moral, important. Not just because someone had stood at a pulpit telling you what to believe, but because you were surrounded by role models who lived their lives to that Catholic ideal and showed you that that is what it meant to be loved. He could see why there’d be guilt there.

He still wasn’t too sure why Marisol dropping out of nun school meant Eddie had come in three hours early for his shift to avoid her. Had he been working out this whole time? Christ, he’d picked up the weight again. Wasn’t dropping out of nun school a good thing? They had shared life-experience, kinda. Catholic backgrounds, but not Catholic beliefs. It wasn’t necessary to have the same religious bent as your partner but it certainly couldn’t hurt. Unless maybe she hadn’t dropped out of nun school. Maybe…  “Was she expelled?” Eddie had said naughty.

“No, it was her choice.”

“Okay so what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I can’t look at her without wanting to do this–” he crosses himself, “–instead of… other things. Buck completely failed to hide the smile growing on his face. “In fact, I haven’t been able to uh… you know, since I found out.”

His best friend was an idiot. “Which is why you’re so uh… pent up.” He really shouldn’t be laughing. “Well, wish I could help.” He’d help Eddie any time after all, with anything. “But honestly, I wish I had that problem right now.”

Eddie looked skeptical, “You do?”

Buck nodded, a bit too emphatically, “Well this might sound strange but uh, some old friends got in touch and they want me to be their sperm doner right? And I want to set them up with the best chance of success, so I’ve been trying to be good–”

“The green juice,” Eddie interjected with newfound understanding.

“–Exactly, I’ve even been avoiding fish that’s high in mercury.”

“Does swordfish have an effect on your sperm count?”

“No, I’m abstaining from… other things to help with that.” He gave Eddie a meaningful look. “You know I’m uh, tryna keep the tank full, not let the, swimmers escape.”

The dawn of realisation on Eddie’s face was palpable, “So you haven’t…”

“Nope.”

“Not even once?” The weights were a long-forgotten dream now, Eddie was sat with his hands clasped together between his splayed legs, and every answer from Buck caused him to lean forwards ever so slightly more.

“Nu uh.”

“For how long?” It was almost a gasp.

“Longer than expected.” What between cancelled appointments and construction work and every other type of obstruction that could be conceivably dreamed of. It was a curse.

“But,” Eddie repeated, “How long?”

Buck bit his lip, “Four weeks.”

Eddie’s eyes looked ready to bulge out of his head, “Marisol only told me she was a nun yesterday, you’ve been,” he glanced meaningfully down to Buck’s crotch and with sudden horror Buck felt his hips twitch minutely. “For four weeks?”

Buck could only nod in despair, and try not to squirm in his seat. This couldn’t be happening to him, here in front of Eddie, it couldn’t. He wasn’t that desperate.

“When’s your appointment?”

“Not for two weeks. The Jeep’s in the garage and so I can’t go until it’s out,” repeating it now made despair wash over him, he was already so so worked up and it’d only been a few weeks, now he had to wait half of that again? It wasn’t fair. He shut his eyes against Eddie’s disbelieving face and willed himself to be calm. He could wait two weeks, he wasn’t a child who needed everything now. It was only two weeks.

“I’ll drive you.” The respond was immediate. “Call them now and ask for the next available appointment.”

Buck’s eyes flew open. “What?”

“I said, call them. Now.”

He was dialling before he’d actively made the decision to, and he looked directly at Eddie as he spoke. “Oh, you have an opening this evening?” The relief was a sharp, sweet thing, suddenly the length of his resolve was a few hours rather than a few weeks, until he could finally—

Eddie shook his head.

Buck pulled the phone away from his mouth so the small, wounded noise he made couldn’t be heard. At least, not by the receptionist. There’s no way Eddie, leaning into his space, couldn’t hear it. But he wouldn’t know what it meant, just one of those reactions that people had sometimes. He wouldn’t know it was from having what he wanted dangled within his reach, then cruelly snatched away. Yet the red flush of mortification was creeping into his cheeks – he couldn’t even convince himself. “I’m not free then, how about tomorrow, 4pm?”

There was a suspended moment, and then Eddie nodded, just once.

“Thank you very much.” He hung up instantly.

He had to go, “I’ve got to—” he stood and turned in one quick motion to hide his growing problem, aching to get away, but he was stopped by a large hand settling on his arm, “Buck—”

The bell rang.

…

Eddie had a problem, the nature of which was equal and opposite to the problem he’d had twelve hours ago. Twelve hours ago he thought he’d never be able to pleasure his girlfriend again if he’d wanted to, and now—

“I’m so glad this isn’t going to get in the way of us. I’ve never met a guy who wanted me in the same way after… after he found out.” Marisol’s arms were around him and her front was pressed against his and she was kissing his face and—

Eddie wasn’t sure he’d said that. Actually, he was fairly sure he hadn’t said that, it was just that he was talking it out with Marisol but he couldn’t quite focus because he was also thinking that it was the evening that he definitely was free to take Buck to his appointment but he’d taken one look at him squirming and desperate in his seat like he was being paid for it and he realised that he had this power over Buck, that he could leave him hanging and wanting and trying not to hump the air like a slut and he didn’t even have to say anything. He just had to shake his head.

It had been so easy. Buck was so easy.

But Marisol was pressed against him and he was so hard and she was taking this to mean that he didn’t care if she was a nun and that they were still fine and that this was just a bump in the road to their long relationship to come. She was right about one thing. Eddie didn’t care if she was a nun.

Of course he didn’t care, what had he been thinking? Marisol was his girlfriend. He wanted her, he wanted to be with her. She sucked the lobe of his ear and he wondered what it would feel the same if Buck did it, and then he made himself stop. Buck was his best friend. He’d had a moment of fun winding him up, but it didn’t mean anything, it was just guys giving each other a hard time. That’s what they did.

Marisol was his girlfriend, and he wanted her. That’s why he’d gotten over the nun situation, why he’d been able to rise to the occasion this evening. He pressed forwards into her space and kissed her. And kissed her. This was what he wanted.

…

Because of Buck’s previous issues they’d given themselves a whole thirty minutes to drive the fifteen minutes across town to the clinic. Buck hopped into the passenger seat in an easy movement, “I am so ready for this.”

Eddie gave him a wry sideways glance, “I’ll bet.” He only glanced down long enough to check Buck had his seatbelt on.

“Did you talk to Marisol yesterday?”

“Uh, yes.”

Something in his voice must have given him away, because Buck rounded on him, “Did you two…”

He was glad he had to focus on the road, that he couldn’t see those wide blue eyes, searching him. “Did we what?” Play it dumb, Buck wouldn’t call him on it.

“Fuck.”

Or not. “We uh, we–” God what did Eddie even say?

“You did!” Buck crowed, “You got over that quickly, I’m jealous.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be able to real soon,” he checked his dash, “only ten minutes away.”

Buck groaned, “We’re uh,” he took a quick breath of air, “early, I can’t go in until it’s time.”

“You’ve waited this long you can wait another twenty minutes.” Eddie saw a shift of movement in the passenger side, but he was making a turn and couldn’t look. The silence was too long, and he could hear a weird scraping noise, not metallic but something like denim against polyester. “What are you doing?” But then the light changed to red.

Buck was holding the seatbelt on either side of his lap, pulling it taut so it wouldn’t move as he fucked his hips up into the synthetic material. It could barely feel good through the layer of his jeans and underwear, with nothing to ease the painful friction, but he was biting his lip hard as if to avoid letting out any noises and each thrust of his hips was one long movement, none of the aborted shuffling at the firehouse yesterday as he tried to hide how turned-on he was. His control over himself had snapped, leaving only this pathetic creature humping his seatbelt with Eddie right there next to him. “I’m sorry,” he gasped.

“You slut.”

His hips snapped up.

“You can’t control yourself at all can you. Even me telling you how pathetic you are is a turn on for you.”

Apparently realising he had nothing to hide anymore, that his humiliation was complete, Buck let out the keening noises he’d been keeping down the whole time. The quality of his thrusts changed, no longer long and languid but quick and desperate as he tried to get himself over the edge.

The car behind them honked, and Eddie tore his gaze away. “Don’t you dare come.”

Buck let out a strangled whine.

“Please, Eddie, please. I can’t. I can’t.” But the scraping noises had halted, even if the panting and whines hadn’t. “I’m so close.”

“You’re going to come like a pathetic slut all over my interior without even a hand on you?” Eddie accused.

“Yes, I am Eddie, I can’t, I can’t,” his hips shot up once, but not more, “Please.”

“What are you waiting for? My permission?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

God he was really leaking all over himself ready to come untouched but he was still barely holding himself back because Eddie hadn’t told him it was allowed. “You won’t get it.” Eddie told him, factually. “You think I’d give you permission to waste your cum like that?”

Buck’s hand moved to his cock over his trousers, and Eddie thought he’d finally had enough and was giving himself something proper to get off against, even if it was only his hand, but then he realised in disbelief that Buck was trying to grab the base of himself, from spilling anymore over himself, even though he was already soaked with precum. But he couldn’t grab himself through his trousers, and was only giving himself more torturous stimulation as his hands scrabbled.

They’d been parked in a bay for ten or so minutes, not that Buck had any presence of mind to notice, but it meant all of Eddie’s attention could be where it mattered. Something in him broke. “Baby, stop.” Buck’s hands were gone. “Let me help you,” he reached forwards to unzip his trousers, but Buck squirmed away from him.

“No, no, don’t, don’t, I’m gunna—”

Eddie shushed him, “Just trust me baby, trust me.” He undid the zipper and pulled his cock out, touching it as little as possible and trying not to tease. Then he circled the base of his dick with his fingers and squeezed. “You might not be able to control yourself, but I can.”

Buck let out a high-pitched noise from the back of his throat, “I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

“Hold the headrest,” Eddie instructed, “There, just like that,” he praised when Buck reached his arms above and behind his head, crossing them over the back of the headrest. “Perfect.”

Buck panted.

“You need to calm down,” Eddie told him, “This can all be over in five minutes but you can’t go in there looking like this.” Like a fucked-out whore, his mind supplied. But they were trying to calm him down, not rile him up even more.

“Five minutes?”

“Yeah baby, five minutes I promise. Just take deep breaths.” God they were in the parking lot, anyone could walk past right now and see Buck, arms above his head, back arched wantonly, dick hanging out of his pants.

Buck followed the instruction exactly, breathing deliberately slowly. After a few minutes, it became less forced and more natural, and it was time. Whether he was ready or not if he didn’t go in now he’d miss the appointment, and then all his struggling would have been for nothing. He ignored the bolt of heat at picturing Buck losing control as Eddie tucked him back into his jeans, resisted giving him a final pat to his junk. Pictured that being the moment that Buck finally couldn’t hold back anymore and let go of his inhibitions, crying at his failure to hold on, at the fact he’d denied and tortured himself for a weak unsatisfying orgasm, after barely being touched.

Eddie handed Buck his jacket, “Tie it around your waist.” It would hopefully hide the erection and damp, there was nothing else to be done about it. And then Buck was gone from his car, with one last glance back.

Two minutes later his phone was ringing.

“Talk to me,” Buck demanded.

For a moment Eddie said nothing. Was he going to do this? He could hang up right now and he’s sure Buck would have no problem at all doing what he had to do. This wasn’t helping out a friend. This was phone sex. He was going to hang up.

“Talk to me,” Buck whispered.

“You’re so demanding baby, you gunna beg?”

“I can’t,” he whispered, “There’s not, it’s not, private.”

What kind of set up was it that they were asking people to jack off without the semblance of privacy? “If you don’t, I won’t give you permission. Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” he breathed.

“You must be so close, so worked up.”

“Yes, yes, Eddie I can’t do this anymore, just please-”

“Come for me.”

Buck groaned blissfully into the phone. Eddie hung up.

Chapter Text

Buck probably should have expected Eddie not to be there when he came out of the clinic, but he didn’t lose hope until he’d scanned the whole car park and then walked around the block. Defeated, he sat on a wall and put his head in his hands. What the fuck had he been thinking? But of course, he hadn’t. He’d just been wound up and horny and Eddie was right there being suave and kind and edging his fucking orgasm.

He'd been on the phone to the receptionist and Eddie had shaken his head, so innocently. Had he known when he’d said that? Was he was doing to him? Buck kneaded his face with the palms of his hands and snorted. Of course not, how could Eddie know what was going on in the depraved corners of his mind. Eddie had been trying to help, and it was Buck who couldn’t control himself.

He rang Eddie’s cell, which predictably went straight to voicemail. He didn’t bother leaving a message. What could he possibly say?

…

He kicked Marisol out of his house.

“But I thought… that you were okay, that I was a nun?” Her voice had a hopeful little warble in it, and Eddie couldn’t take it.

“I don’t give a fuck that you were a nun.” He shouldn’t be angry with her, but his voice was raised despite himself. He just wanted her gone.

“Then what-”

“I cheated on you.”

And now she was angry too, instead of speaking to him in that awful hopeful-confused manner, like she really thought they could work it out. “You did what?” He anger was cold, like ice.

“I cheated on you.”

“I heard you the first time,” he let her acerbic tongue lash him, knowing he deserved it. “I just don’t, I don’t understand. Why would you do that to me?”

“I don’t— I don’t know.” He just wanted her gone.

“Why would you ask me to move in, try to work out our differences, and then still— who was she?”

“Get out.” He didn’t check if she complied, just left her hanging in the hallway of his house as he fled to his room. On his nightstand was a ceramic tiger that Christopher, but really Buck, had bought him from one of their trips to the zoo. He took it in his hand and dashed it against the wall – it shattered into a hundred brittle shards, and the dust caught in the light like glitter.

…

Eddie was running slightly late and the 118 were already sat around the table chatting and passing dishes. Buck grabbed the edge of a hot pan with a tea towel and started shovelling food onto his plate, “Bobby this looks so good,” he enthused, before passing it to Hen.

The moment he noticed Eddie hovering he stood up, then aborted whatever he was about to do and sat back down again. Then he greeted in him in the most unnatural voice possible, before shoving a forkful of food in his mouth to avoid answering the weird looks he was getting from the entire 118.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.” He slid into place next to Hen, gave Buck a pinched smile, and helped himself to eggs.

Bobby raised an eyebrow, “Don’t let it happen again,” but it wasn’t stern enough for it to be a real reprimand.

Eddie was trying to be normal but he wasn’t sure he remembered what that was. Did he usually participate this little in the conversation? Did he usually add detail to Buck’s long rambling stories, because he was there when they happened, and Buck was missing an important bit? Did he usually pass Buck the salt across the table and flinch when their fingers touched? But he was being normal. He just wanted everything to be as it was, and if he didn’t make it weird, it wasn’t weird.

There was a lull in the conversation and Buck coughed a little, drawing the attention to him. “I have something to tell you all.”

Eddie’s heart sank.

“I hope uh,” glanced at Eddie, “That none of you see me any differently, cause I’m still the same guy that I always was but I just wanted to, tell you, that I uh, like. Guys— in addition to liking women. I uh love women, I’ve always loved women. I now just uh know, about myself, that I also am into uh. Men,” he finished lamely.

Hen held out her hands, “Pay up!”

…

Eddie had five missed calls and sixteen unread text messages, because the only person he’d been in contact with over the last few days was Christopher. He talked with Buck and everyone at work and it was almost normal, but he couldn’t face his phone.

The first missed call was from Buck, when he’d abandoned him at the clinic. The second missed called was also from Buck, several hours and apparently several drinks later, and the voicemail was him slurring into the phone repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over. He hadn’t opened any of the texts, but he’d read them in the notification bar. The ones from Buck read:

07:21    I crossed so many lines and I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me or why I thought that would be appropriate, and I really really don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll do anything to make it up to you and I hope you can forgive me.

00:14    Sorry.

00:21    Can you talk to me please?

00:22    I mean I know you have been talking to me but not about the thing we need to talk about.

18:21    Do you still want me to pick Chris up from school on Thursday?

18:43    I’ll be there unless you tell me not to be.

…

Buck was slightly early. Maybe the traffic had been good coming across town. Sometimes it was better or worse for no apparent reason. He knocked despite having a key and he could hear Christopher asking why they didn’t just go in, and Buck being unable to explain it, and Chris eventually sighing and barging in calling, “Daaaad, we’re home!”

“Chris!” He swung him up into his arms like he was a little kid again, “How was school?” But of course he wasn’t a little kid anymore so he squirmed to be let down while he told them about a story from math class and eventually Eddie capitulated and set him on his feet. “So, what I’m hearing is you have homework?”

Chris sighed long sufferingly, but disappeared into his room, hopefully to do his homework. He took the levity out of the room with him.

Buck was standing in the hallway, looking lost. “I thought you’d be at basketball.”

“It was cancelled.”

“Right.”

“Thanks for picking him up.”

“Yeah, anytime.”

The clock was ticking. Eddie resolved to take the batteries out of it later – who needed clocks in the modern age anyway.

“Are you um, alright?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Okay. Cause you um, kinda look like shit.”

Eddie supposed he hadn’t been sleeping very well. He was probably a bit purple and puffy under the eyes but it wasn’t serious. And he had been spending a lot of time on his sofa, with the T.V switched off. He found he had a lot to think about, and he didn’t want to be thinking about it but when he switched the T.V on the noise grated on every last one of his nerves so he just sat with it off, thinking of things he’d rather not. He supposed that would probably be enough to make someone look like shit.

“You haven’t been answering my calls.”

He had this worried furrow between his brows that Eddie couldn’t help but try to dispel, “I haven’t been answering anyone’s calls.”

But it was the wrong thing to say, because the furrow only deepened. “Why?” and then, “Eddie, are you alright?”

Inexplicably, Eddie burst into tears.

The clock ticked, tocked, and then Buck was there, with his arms around him, making gentle shushing noises and holding him and holding him and Eddie choked for air because he couldn’t stop sobbing and he couldn’t remember the last time he cried this hard or if he ever had and he said, “Buck,” and Buck said, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” and Eddie pressed himself into his chest and succumbed to the feeling of being enveloped in someone bigger and stronger and braver. He let himself feel like Buck had all the answers.

“I think there’s something wrong with me,” he confessed.

“There’s not,” Buck said fiercely. “Eddie, I– we, everyone at the 118, we all love you. Chris loves you.”

“There’s something wrong with me,” he could only repeat it until Buck saw, until he understood.

“Because of what we did?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” Buck asked bluntly.

“No! No, Buck of course not.”

 “And do you think there’s something wrong with Hen? Or Karen? Or Josh?”

Eddie could only shake his head where it rested on his chest.

“Then why do you think there’s something wrong with you?”

“Because,” Eddie began, “Because Chris needs a mother. Because my family, they wouldn’t understand. Because…” because it’s me.

Buck tightened his arms around Eddie, “Chris needs you. And he needs you to be happy, so you can be there for him.”

“They’re going to hate me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Buck,” he sobbed.

And Buck enclosed him tighter in his arms.

…

In the morning, Eddie mostly felt embarrassed. He considered lying there and never getting up again, but he could hear Buck and Christopher bustling around in the kitchen, the clink of pots and pans over the murmur of the radio. It was playing a song he thought he recognised, but he couldn’t quite place it, the memory escaping him when he tried to focus on it. He thought about how much nicer it was to wake up to Buck in his kitchen than Marisol in his bed and then he tried not to think about it. And then he was thinking about Buck and how he said “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” over and over like a mantra. And then he thought maybe he was sort of sick of himself a little bit. So he got up, and without bothering to dress, went to join his two favourite people in the kitchen.

Chapter Text

They were in the firestation, sat around the table, empty plates strewn around, the dinner over but the conversation still flowing. Chimney and Hen were having a heated debate that had started about who was better at the firetruck simulator game and had meandered off course into city planning, through local elections and somehow crashed into discussing straight people at pride. 

Buck was mostly just hearing them talk without listening, focused on watching Eddie. He was being frustratingly normal. He even looked better rested, his usual glow back. Not that Eddie wasn’t beautiful at all times, but when he was sleep deprived or unwell he lost a certain lustre that made Buck worry about him. But he looked fine. Which actually was also worrying him. Maybe worried about Eddie was just his default state now.

Then Chimney said, “Straight people can totally enjoy pride, straight people love parties too!” which was benign until he added, “Right, Eddie?”

There was a beat of silence in which the others were still in a world where everything was fine and normal, but Buck could see the tide receding and there was nothing he could do about it.

Eddie scraped his chair back so violently as he stood that it fell over with a clatter, and he didn’t stop to pick it up. “How the fuck should I know.” He stepped over it, graceful even in anger, and beelined for the bunkroom. It was a good show of storming off, but to Buck it still looked like fleeing.

“Eddie, wait,” Hen called, the first one to get her wits about her.

But he didn’t pause, and then the bunkroom door was between them.

Buck wanted to go after him, but knew instinctively that the rest of the 118 would follow his lead, and it was clear that Eddie wanted to be alone. So he stayed.

“What was that about?” Chimney asked.

Hen commented dryly, “Well I think he made it pretty clear.”

Bobby was frowning a little as he processed, “Did he just-”

“Clear as mud,” Chimney disagreed, “Isn’t he with Marisol?”

“Bisexual people exist,” Hen inputted.

“Buck?” Bobby asked, “Is he okay?”

Then the pandemonium was over and all eyes turned to him. He was always the one who had the answers about Eddie, and they knew it. “It’s not really my place to say,” he said, carefully. But the way Hen’s eyes went soft with sympathy made him feel like even that was saying too much. 

Bobby – kind, wonderful Bobby – got up and righted Eddie’s chair, “Well, whose turn is it to wash up?”

…

Buck didn't know if Eddie was ever planning on coming out of the bunkroom, and didn't get to find out because the bell rang first. They sat in the truck in their usual places, and Buck was aware in ways he’d never been before of the press of Eddie’s leg against his own as they sat opposite each other, their legs zipped together. Eddie was staring at him as if daring him to say something, but Buck didn’t know what.

Maybe, “Hey, it’s alright that you came out, possibly accidentally, to our nosey over involved friends.”

Or, “I know you’re having a sexuality crisis and it's hard for you but I’m here for you.”

Or, “I don’t know why you think it would phase me that our legs are pressed together when you’ve touched my dick and talked me to orgasm.” Maybe after that he may as well add, “There’s a non-zero chance you could get me off by grinding your knee forwards a little bit and you wouldn’t even have to do any work because the jolt of the truck would cause us to rub together enough to have me-”

Dead guys covered in maggots, his ancient sixth grade teacher, family dinner with his parents. He couldn’t think about Eddie like this right now. What was he thinking he couldn’t think about Eddie like this ever he was going through something and it was all Buck’s fault for being so indescribably horny in the first place and he wasn’t going to make it worse. He wasn’t. 

He was going to be helpful, supportive, friendly, and before any of that he was going to do his job. 

The truck pulled up and the scene, which was a minor vehicular collision. The first car clearly hit the back of the other, and bits of debris were flung across the carriage way. The presumed driver of the first car was mostly shaken up from what Buck could tell, and her friend was trying to comfort her. They were no longer in the car, stood in relative safety behind the metal barrier. The whole front end of the second car had crumpled in on itself, but it looked worse than it was. They were designed to crumple like that, and the frame of the door was intact and should open straight away, probably the only reason the driver hadn’t was because they were in shock. Or potentially incapacitated for the same reason they’d lost control of the car, but hopefully it was just the shock.

“Hen, Chim, check the driver of the sedan, Buck, Eddie, check out the pair behind the barrier.”

Eddie started with the driver, since she was more distressed, which left Buck with the friend. She didn’t seem too phased, which was possibly just a coping mechanism. Buck had found it was quite common for people to seem fine in the moment only to break down after the adrenaline had worn off. 

“Ma’am are you okay?”

Her eyes did a deliberate up and down, “Better now,” she smirked. Her hand found its way to his bicep.

Buck sighed a little bit, “Ma’am if you could-” he jumped, not expecting a hand to come to rest on the back of his neck. Eddie’s hand. He looked disdainfully at where the woman gripped Buck’s upper arm until she surreptitiously dropped it. 

Point made, Eddie returned to checking over the driver, while Buck gaped at him. What was that about?

…

“So,” Hen commented. “Funny this should happen, straight after you come out as bi.”

“Nope,” Buck told her, walking hastily away. Nope, nope, nope.

…

After shift, Buck sat in his jeep with the engine idling. He thumbed the plastic tiger themed keyring attached to his keys contemplatively – any minute now he was going to drive home. Or, he glanced to where Eddie’s truck was parked one space over, he could drive to-

Buck knew he had this thing where he made it all about himself. He could acknowledge that! It was something he was working on for the new Buck, Buck 3.0. So yeah, it was pretty undeniable that Eddie’s sudden sexuality freakout had been sparked by what they’d done together. But that didn’t mean it was about Buck. This didn’t mean it would happen again. It didn’t mean he was allowed to touch. To put his thumb on the groove above his lip and below his nose, drag it over his lips, pull down the bottom one just a little, lean in to see what he’d do if he replaced it with his tongue.

But Buck was always the one who was there, when Eddie needed something. It was his job to take care of him, protect Chris when Eddie couldn’t, fix the holes in the wall. And like his actual job, it was also his pleasure, something he’d fight for if someone tried to take it away. Eddie needed him now. But he didn’t know if that was true, or if he wanted it to be true.

The next time he peaked at Eddie’s truck, he found Eddie looking back. Their eyes locked for a moment, until Eddie nodded once. Buck breathed a sigh of relief – if Eddie said it was okay, then it was allowed. 

He followed him home. Let himself in through the unlatched door.

Eddie was on the couch.

“Do you want a beer?” His voice was flat, totally even. You wouldn’t know he hadn’t said a word outside of calls the entire latter half of the shift.

“Eddie, are you alright?”

Eddie half-turned to face him, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be alright?”

Buck hated that it sounded convincing. Hated that people have let him get away with hiding, over and over. That they didn’t care to dig. (Buck would dig, with his bare hands, even if it were impossible, even if he was almost certainly already-). Buck was going to dig, that’s all.

He sat on the couch. Right there, right next to him, careful that their thighs didn’t touch. It wasn’t about him. “Um, are you, are you sure? Because you know, there was, you uh. Well. I know you’re going through something, at the moment, and I think now also the team knows you’re going through something, now, and I think- it would probably help if-”

Their thighs were touching. It definitely wasn’t Buck who’d moved.

“All I’m saying is, we’re here for you and it might be-” Buch searched for a word, “embarrassing? I’m kind of embarrassed that it’s taken me this long to figure it out to be honest-” not about you , he reminded himself hastily, “but also the, thing, that we, um, did, doesn’t have to mean that you’re, you know, into guys or, it’s totally normal to explore and I don’t want you to feel-” 

There was a split second where there was movement in his periphery, a warmth of a hand on the back of his neck for the second time today and before Buck had time to process any of that, Eddie was kissing him. 

Eddie was kissing him.

He’d sort of maneuvered Buck into a lying position, by the pull of his hand and the push of his body, his weight pressed into him where their bodies connected chest-to-chest, hip-to-hip, thigh-to-thigh. Eddie had to scramble a little to reach, to maintain the hot points of pressure between them, and then his other hand was coming round to the back of his head to draw them closer still.

Buck had spent so long convincing himself that he shouldn’t touch Eddie that his brain misfired, and for a second he froze like a startled deer. Then he was working completely on autopilot, taking, taking, taking. His tongue tasted Eddie’s mouth, his hands scrabbled at his back, failing to find purchase through his shirt. If he’d had any restraint in the first place, it was gone now. They pulled away in short bursts, and only to breathe. They kissed and kissed and kissed. 

Eddie panted against his mouth and Buck breathed his air, relishing the feeling of him in his lungs. When Eddie spoke, their lips brushed. “I’m gay.”

Buck ran his hand gently up his spine. “You’re- oh. ” Oh. There was a lot to unpack there. Probably right now wasn’t the best time. Even if it was, Buck didn’t think he could bring himself to mention any of Eddie’s exes while they were wrapped up in one another like this.

“Shut up,” Eddie mumbled into his mouth.

Buck felt warm and syrupy, aroused but also simply happy. Eddie pushed in to kiss him again, his hand drifting down to his waistband, but Buck caught it, moved it back up and held on, so Eddie couldn’t take it as a rejection. “Can we just-” Buck wrapped his arms around Eddie, rolled them over so they were side-by-side. There wasn’t really room for them, and if Buck were to let go, Eddie would fall off and probably brain himself on the coffee table. That was okay though – he didn’t plan on letting go.

Eddie bit his lip with uncertainty, “You want to-”

Buck waited for him to finish, but it didn’t seem like he was going to so Buck shrugged with the shoulder that wasn’t trapped against the couch, “What you don’t have cuddling in Texas?”

“No,” Eddie deadpanned, “We only have repression and guilty hand jobs.”

Buck laughed into his chest, “Well that explains some things.”

…

Everyone at the firestation was sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Eddie’s forced normality was fooling everyone else about as well as it fooled Buck, except instead of pushing they’re waiting for Eddie to come to them. The 118 did know how to be tactful when it suited them.

It didn’t happen on the call where they freed a man who accidentally locked himself in his wife’s walk-in closet. It didn’t happen when Hen faux-casually talked about her newly out bisexual friend and left a deliberate gap in the conversation. It happened around the dining table, after the food was gone and the talk was petering out, and Bobby was just about to suggest they begin clearing up. Before he could, Eddie cleared his throat. 

On another day, no one would have even really noticed. On this one, the entire table fell into an expectant silence.

“Just to let you know, I’m gay.” Then almost as sharply as the last time he’d made a shocking revelation at dinner time, he stood, although the chair managed to just about stay upright this go around. He grabbed his plate like he was going to go wash it up, but instead hovered there, suspended.

Hen smiled at him reassuringly, “We’re so proud of you.”

Eddie scrunched his eyes shut.

“Thank you for telling us,” Bobby added, a smile in his voice.

Eddie breathed wetly. Then he took two deep breaths, and just like that the patented Diaz composure was back. “You can ask your nosey questions,” he said with a sigh, opening his eyes, “I know you want to.”

“Oh thank God-”

“Aren’t you still with-”

“Did something happen with-”

“Have you told-”

Eddie waved a hand through the air, “I broke up with Marisol, I haven’t told Chris yet, something did uh-” his face was turning beetroot, “happen, with someone. That’s how I know that I am, now.”

Buck pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t grin.

It was Hen, who had the guts to ask, “And Shannon?” Because Hen was the only one who could, in the end. The only one who could ask and make it sound safe.

Eddie shrugged, “Well before I was straight, and in love with Shannon,” he said, like you might say obviously, “And now I’m gay, and in love with Buck.”

Buck nearly fell out of his chair. “You’re what?”

“Um, so yeah.” He power walked away with his plate.

…

Eddie was in love with him. Eddie’s in love with him. Eddie’s in love with him.

…

Eddie’s in love with him and he’s washing dishes. His cheeks are cherry red. So’s the back of his neck above the collar of his LAFD t-shirt. He’s washing the dishes. Actually, he’s washing one dish, over and over and over again. He’s nervous. Eddie’s nervous because he’s in love with him.

“For godsakes,” Hen whispers, “Put him out of his misery.” 

“Yeah,” Buck says. Stands. Sits down again. Stands.

There’s one stray strand of brunet hair brushing over his forehead. The profile of his face is outlined against the light coming in from the window. His mouth is tight at the edges. No matter how hard he tries, Buck can’t stop looking at him.

A magnetism draws him closer. The same force that causes their shoulders to bump together when they walk, that has him sleeping on Eddie's sofa, that makes them BuckandEddie, brings them together now, Eddie still at the sink and Buck right next to him. 

He reaches for Eddie’s shoulder. Holds it. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” 

Always letting Buck off the hook, even for this. Buck lets his hand drop down, curve over his bicep, sweep over his forearm and the bones of his wrist. He stills Eddie’s hand, and laces their fingers together in the soapy water. Their shoulders bump together. “What if I want to?”

Eddie shivers, “Only if it's good,” he allows, like he’s doing Buck a favour. As far as Buck’s concerned, he is. “And only if you mean it.” 

“I mean it.”

This close their height difference is amplified, and Eddie has to tilt his head to look up at him. They’re at work, but they’re in love and they’re going to have a life together and his lips are right there , so even though Buck is trying to be good, he thinks maybe it’s okay to give into temptation. Maybe letting himself have what he wants isn’t such a bad thing after all.