Archive of Our Own ^beta

Agony pulses through Buck with a fine, blunt ache. 

It pinches his nerves. Squeezes his heart. Lines his muscles with an old, sore kind of tension. Scratches at his horribly dry throat. 

All in all, it’s awful. Fucking awful. Splashing over every inch of him. Tucking itself up into every nook and cranny. Weighing him down til he’s so heavy he’ll sink straight through the mattress. 

Okay, wait. Mattress. 

There is a mattress. That he is currently on. And–

Sheets, tangled up in his legs. Pillow, sticking damply to his cheek. 

That means bed. Buck is in bed.

How did he–When did he get into bed? A bed that is most certainly not his own, because his mattress is less firm than this one and he has considerably more blankets than the thin sheet and quilt currently draped around his body. 

Oh god. 

Buck groans. The sound scrapes against his raw throat, sparking pain and drawing a metallic, tangy taste to his fuzzy tongue. He smacks his lips and drags his tongue against his teeth in effort to get rid of the taste and texture. It helps. Barely. 

Turning the heaviness that is his bruise of a body so that his face is smooshed fully into the pillow unfortunately does nothing to diminish the hurt crawling around his throat and blooming throughout the rest of him like a white-hot, blaring alarm. 

Maybe he can suffocate himself. Stick his face so far into plush fabric until his airways are obstructed and his lungs give out. It would be for the best he thinks. 

At the very least it would get rid of the nastiness clinging to the inside of his mouth and the weight of his bones and the throbbing in his head, because hey, when you’re dead there’s no such thing as pesky physical sensations or worse, emotional ones. 

The pillow might be too soft and malleable for suffocation though, but Buck thinks if he tries hard enough it’s manageable. It’s certainly preferable in any case. Much more preferable than dealing with whatever stupid fucking consequences are waiting for him after last night. 

Unfortunately, he lacks the strength to back his motivation. His body is too tightly packed with the remnants of all the alcohol he consumed last night. His head feels like it’s being squeezed in a vice. His stomach is rolling and trying to climb into his mouth, fully protesting him lying on it. 

None of those things equal up to him being present or competent enough to end everything with this pillow. 

A sigh punches out of Buck, carrying a foul aftertaste that makes him scrunch his nose in displeasure and turn his head, cheek back to being stuck to the pillow. 

His eyes remain closed, because like hell does he want to see anything. Seeing something means it’s real and means he has to deal with it, so no thanks. 

Buck does take a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t really do much to help anything at the moment. Doesn’t abate any of the horrific symptoms that are physically battering him nor the echoing ripples of his hurt heart which are strong enough to jar his bones. 

But those few breaths do help him identify and remember where he is. 

Eddie’s. 

It’s unmistakable due to the scent of cedar trickling into his senses, brushing lightly over his overactive and equally deadened nerve endings. 

Cedar. Warm and fresh. Faint. Eddie’s body wash. A smell Buck is more familiar with than almost anything. It’s accompanied by the tiniest hint of coconut. The lotion Eddie uses, slathering it over his body almost religiously because he’s so uptight about having moisturized skin. 

Something unclenches in Buck. Softens. Soothed like an upset child. 

Buck buries his nose in the pillow–Eddie’s pillow–that he’s been drooling over all night. He doesn’t remember getting here. Has no idea how he went from drinking with Eddie on the couch, morose and sad and empty while Eddie was a bright spot beside him, to sleeping in Eddie’s bed. 

He’s never been in Eddie’s bed before. It’s a…strangely weird thought. A kind of jarring realization. Enough so that he peels open his eyelids, wincing at the pinch and crunch of the action. 

Buck bemoans existing. He bemoans being someone the universe likes punching. He bemoans every fucking thing that has led him here. 

He flops over on his back. Brings his fingers to his eyes. Rubs away the crust from his lashes. 

His stomach pitches, hauling upward like it’s doing a somersault. 

Buck suppresses a gag. Debates rotting away here in Eddie’s bed for the rest of his life, never daring to get up and face the world, his failures, his losses. That wouldn’t be such a horrible thing really. Eddie’s bed is nice. Eddie’s house is nice. Eddie is nice. 

A loud clatter shatters all of Buck’s senses, banging around in his eardrums like a painfully deep and consuming bass that buries its force into your blood. 

Buck shudders, his entire body twitching and curling in on itself as if that could protect him from the noise traveling his way from what is most likely the kitchen. 

He can identify the awful sounds as plates or maybe cutlery. Something breakable and maybe sharp colliding with something that’s equally breakable and possibly sharp. 

Either Eddie is fighting with the dishes or he’s making what Buck assumes must be breakfast based on the grey gold color of the morning sunlight peeking through the window. 

While Eddie waging war on his dishes would be funny and not entirely unprecedented, Buck sincerely doubts it, so breakfast it is. Which is nice. Definitely deepens his good opinion of Eddie which has never wavered once. Except, y’know, it’s loud . Obnoxiously loud. So maybe Eddie isn’t so nice after all. 

Buck grumbles to himself, words and sounds that are incomprehensible even to him. They pour out of his ravaged throat in a somewhat soothing rhythm as he pushes himself upward and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. 

Sheets are still all caught up around his limbs, twisted this way and that as if Buck was trying to turn himself into the world’s tightest burrito in his sleep. But it’s fine. Not a problem. Except when he goes to stand and move toward the cracked door. 

The sheets bunch and pull, cinching around his calves and yanking on his ankles. 

Buck trips, skidding across the floor and colliding into the dresser. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. Then regrets the force he put behind that curse because it sends a bleat of pain through his aching forehead. 

Yet another throb now pounds through his blood, this time in his knee and the palms of his hands which all slammed into the dresser so he could catch himself. He’s not on the floor, so there’s that. Such an indignity would have really made it impossible to go any further than Eddie’s bedroom door. 

Buck rests his head on the dresser, careful not to knock over any of the photographs placed on top. He sucks in a sharp, almost humid breath. Shakes a little bit. Curls his fingers around the dresser’s edge in the imitation of fists. 

“Fuck,” he says again.

The noise of Eddie’s cooking halts noticeably though there is still a faint sizzle that probably isn’t even that loud but to Buck it’s as good as a high-pitched scream. 

“Buck?” Eddie calls out. “You good?”

Buck presses his scrunched brow harder into the dresser. Groans. Whines. “Please stop yelling,” he whispers. 

“Buck,” Eddie says again, louder this time. Bastard. 

Forlorn and tired, Buck somehow manages to gather the strength he needs to raise his voice and reply, “Fine! ‘M fine.”

“Then get your ass out here. Breakfast is almost done.”

Buck takes it back. He takes it all back. Eddie is not nice. He’s evil and mean and awful. Awful awful awful. Even if he has made Buck food. 

Food that Buck can smell now that he’s paying attention to that particular sense. 

Okay, maybe Eddie isn’t awful. At least not fully. 

A quiet, almost teasing part of Buck’s brain sing-songs that Eddie has done much more good for him than make breakfast. It’s true, but it’s a truth Buck doesn’t really want to deal with yet or acknowledge, not in this state, so he ignores that part of himself and marches determinedly to the kitchen. 

Eddie’s sheets fall away from him as he meanders out the door and stumbles into the hall. Thankfully they are loose enough to release him entirely before he reaches the kitchen. God knows Eddie would get onto him for it if he saw. 

Buck kicks out his ankle a bit, shoving the sheets closer to the wall so they aren’t exactly in the middle of the hallway. Good enough. He’ll come back and pick them up after breakfast. 

A yawn cracks his jaw and he closes his eyes from the force of it, absentmindedly scratching at his belly. 

When he gets to the kitchen, he curses and winces. 

The artificial light plus the full force of the sun flood the room with a brightness that is too much. It stabs at Buck. Sends a million tiny needles deep into the center of his brain. Makes his eyes strain and squint enough that his vision goes blurry. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Eddie chirps over his shoulder, his smirk clear to see even through the glare of the too cheerful sun and the dissipating fog Buck has to blink away. 

Buck grunts. “Is it?”

Eddie scoffs. Or maybe it’s a sigh or even a regular exhale. Buck doesn’t know. Can’t comprehend it right now so he doesn’t bother. He just sits his ass down at the island, feeling pitiful enough that anyone with mercy would surely put him down if they saw him like this. 

Anyone other than Eddie that is. 

Eddie, who is whistling off-tune. Eddie, who is shimmying his hips. Eddie, who has flushed cheeks and an easy smile. Eddie, who is slapping some scrambled eggs and crispy, greasy bacon onto a plate. Eddie, who is shining and almost what Buck would call glorious even while in his socks, basketball shorts, and white shirt with a grease-stained hem.  

It’s a lot to have aimed at him so early in the morning and at the tail end of the consumption of a stupid amount of alcohol. Why does Eddie have to be so bright? Why does everything have to be so bright right now?

Eddie doesn’t seem to have a care about his alarming vibrancy or the pain it wreaks on Buck because he just grins a crooked kind of grin and sets a full plate down in front of Buck. 

“Eat,” Eddie orders, pointing his finger at Buck. “Having that on your stomach plus the water and meds I left out for you should help out.”

Buck tilts his head, still squinting and having half a mind to tell Eddie to adjust his brightness level. “Water? Meds?”

Eddie sighs. “I left both out for you on the nightstand. You didn’t notice them?”

“Eugh, no.” Buck burps. Wrinkles his nose at how bad it tastes. Lets his face fall into his hands. 

Knuckles tap against Buck’s shoulder. “Alright, you big baby. I’ll go get them for you. Since using your eyes to see things is so difficult for you.” He says it all right in Buck’s ear with no attempt to adjust his volume. 

Buck bats him away, waving his hand blindly and indulging in a bit of pride when he manages to whack Eddie’s chest. “Y’re mean. Don’t be mean to be. Don’ feel good.”

“And whose fault is that?” Eddie scoffs.

“You're the one that got me the tequila after I finished the beers. I remember that much.”

“And you are a big boy, Buck. Could have said no.” It’s uttered softly though, almost fondly, and then his hand is on Buck’s shoulder, a gentle touch, warm and steady, his palm curving around muscle and bone, stroking a few times before he’s gone. 

Buck blows out a breath. Misses Eddie’s touch. He wishes it had lasted longer. Maybe enough of those kinds of touches could make everything better. 

When he opens his eyes to look down at the plate in front of him, he’s torn between warring hunger and disgust. His stomach has calmed a little bit, but it’s still very unhappy with him. Coiling tight and jumping up and down. 

He actually might puke. Can’t remember the last time he did so. He didn’t even puke after Chim’s bachelor party, but that was fun and last night was…incredibly not so. Guess heartbreak makes you sicker who knew. 

Buck pokes at the eggs with his fork. It all smells amazing. Well-seasoned and greasy enough to soak up a good deal of the alcohol still sloshing around inside him. Despite that, it does take him a few seconds to gather the courage to eat, and he still thinks he might puke, but the eggs and bacon taste so good. 

Besides, if he pukes, Eddie will clean it up, so it’s fine. 

Eddie comes back when Buck is in the middle of stuffing his face, shoveling eggs into his mouth like they might run away from him if he’s not fast enough. 

Buck ignores Eddie’s disgusted expression and rolling eyes, but he does murmur a soft yet slightly petulant thanks to Eddie when he sets a bottle of pain meds next to Buck’s plate.

Eddie just slides the bottle closer to Buck then turns away and heads to the fridge, getting Buck a fresh glass of cool water, absolute darling that he is. Best friend material right there. Buck chose well.

Buck watches Eddie the entire time he’s pouring his precious filtered water into a glass because he can’t not. And he gets a flash of last night as he stares at Eddie’s broad back. 

Eddie opening the door, casual and filled with a type of swagger Buck didn’t understand. Pants-less. Thighs on display. Flushed and sweaty in his thin button up. 

Buck isn’t sure why the memory of that image makes his throat go tight. It didn’t faze him all that much at the time because he had other things on his mind and was sad enough that a true act of divinity probably wouldn’t have gotten a reaction out of him. But now–

Well, now Buck looks at Eddie. Bare legs and a hint of his thighs. That dark mark on the back of his right leg peeking out from the hem of his shorts. Hair mussed and a little damp, curling behind his ears. 

The image of the Eddie in front of him now and the Eddie in front of him last night flicker back and forth on top of each other like some kind of montage or old movie reel. 

And Buck feels…pink. Caught. Stomach all fizzy and turning. 

Which are probably just aftereffects. More symptoms of his hangover. Nothing more than that surely. 

Eddie sits down across from Buck with a plate of his own after handing Buck the water. He scarfs down his food a little slower than Buck but still with gusto. A piece of bacon gets caught on his bottom lip and falls into his lap. Eddie frowns down at it then shrugs and picks up, placing it back in his mouth with a hum. 

Buck wants to bury himself in the backyard. 

That would take too much effort though, plus Eddie would cuss him out for making a mess, so he just keeps eating. 

It’s blessedly quiet for a while, no sound but their forks hitting the plates and their chewing. When Buck is done he tosses back a couple of pills and leans back in his chair, eyes falling closed once more. 

Already he feels better.

Eddie just has this way about him. It’s rare that he can’t make Buck feel comfortable or soothed when he needs it and he does it without babying Buck too which is kinda special, Buck can admit that. He feels taken care of which is enough to soothe the crunching grasp of his agony. Not erase it entirely but diminish it enough that Buck can breathe and think. 

He listens to Eddie eat, kicks out his legs and accidentally knocks into Eddie’s feet. There’s a distinct pause, one heavy enough that Buck would look at it and dissect it if he were in better shape, but he’s not so he doesn’t, and then it’s gone. 

Eddie hooks an ankle around Buck’s and keeps him there. 

It’s nice. 

More of what happened last night starts to filter through. The memories are a little flimsy. Sepia-toned and wrinkled like an old photograph, but accessible. 

Buck sat down on Eddie’s couch and drank. Kept drinking. Eyed the happiness that seemed to cover Eddie from head to toe. Or perhaps it was giddiness. Whatever it was, it was good and lovely and in other circumstances Buck would have appreciated it more, but–

But he was hurt. Hurt down to the core. Sore and throbbing like a bruise that’s been pressed down on. 

So he drank and Eddie sat with him while he did it. Quiet and calm and steady. Even when Buck started mumbling about Tommy breaking up with him and admitted how awful it feels that these things never end right for him. 

Eddie didn’t offer any bullshit platitudes. He just listened to Buck, tried to steer him away from an edge he was rapidly approaching, took Buck’s hurt and just let it be, and settled his hand on Buck’s knee to keep him grounded. 

Eventually, once some tequila had been consumed, Buck asked Eddie, “Am I really not worth the risk?” with the poor attempt of a smile on his face and tears in his voice, making him sound thick and hoarse and pathetic. 

Buck wants to rip that memory out. Never wants to think about it again. Never wants to face the answer to that question, because he knows it. Has always known it. 

Except Eddie offered him a different answer. 

He looked at Buck in a way Buck hadn’t understood, something somber about it, something enlightened about it. And then, gently but firmly, he said, “Of course you are, Buck. C’mon.” He shook his head and bit at the inside of his cheek, and Buck remembers wondering what he was holding back with his teeth. 

“If anyone is worth the risk you are,” Eddie continued after a moment, and Buck felt so lost because if Eddie thinks that then why doesn’t anyone else? Why didn’t Tommy?

“But–” Eddie paused, tilted his head, avoided Buck’s eyes. “It can be terrifying, y’know, confronting the possibility of being hurt like that. Especially if you have been before.”

“Oh, so he was right to break up with me then. Yeah, yeah, totally deserved that one, didn't I?”

Eddie huffed exasperatedly. “That’s not what I’m saying, Buck.”

Buck hadn’t addressed that. Was too hurt and too tired to do anything but let it go and instead turn to his glass of tequila. 

But Eddie wouldn’t let him turn away entirely, reaching out to settle his hand on Buck’s shoulder, thumb digging into his collarbone, eyes searching and relentless until Buck met his gaze. 

“It’s his shit, not yours. And you should have been given the chance, any kind of chance,” Eddie said, and it sounded like salvation, like truth, like a lifeline. 

It took the sting out of everything lodged in Buck’s heart and he relaxed. Fell into Eddie’s side, temple resting on Eddie’s shoulder. Cedar. Coconut. Sweat. Familiar, comforting scents that put a swoop in his belly and made him feel…safe.

Eddie had inhaled a sharp breath then, mumbled something to himself that Buck couldn’t hear or just doesn’t remember, then, slowly, he cupped Buck’s face and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“If anyone were to break my heart,” Eddie said, lips brushing Buck’s skin so sweetly, tone casual and amused like he was trying to inject as much levity into the words as possible, “ I’d want it to be you. So I don’t know what Tommy’s issue was.”

Buck snorted. Blinked away the sting of tears he feels flood his eyes now as he remembers. 

Then he murmured to Eddie, “I wouldn’t.”

Eddie hummed in question.

“Break your heart,” Buck answered, and it was the easiest thing, the truest thing. “I wouldn’t.”

After that, everything gets blurry again. Buck can’t recall Eddie’s response or what they did afterward. Has vague inclinations of being guided to Eddie’s bedroom with a hand on his elbow and tucked into bed, left alone to snuggle into Eddie’s warm, soft, clean sheets and find solace in sleep. 

He’s a little embarrassed about all of that, enough so that he keeps his eyes closed even after the sounds of Eddie eating have stopped. And he’s not sure why. 

It’s not like he hasn’t been that vulnerable with Eddie before. That part has always been easy with him, even when it’s been hard. Buck has always known that in the absence of anything else, Eddie will be there. That he can talk to Eddie. That there isn’t a need for shame or embarrassment. 

But he feels it now all the same. Maybe because he truly meant it when he said he wouldn’t break Eddie’s heart. Can’t imagine doing anything worse than that. Or, more likely, it’s about what Eddie said to him, so sure of Buck’s worth. 

If Buck could dig past the cloak of his hangover, he could probably figure it out. If he could discard this grief over Tommy like a t-shirt and wash it clean, he could probably figure it out. He wouldn’t be heavy or lost then and would have the mental capacity to analyze and understand what is beating against his sternum. 

He could add up everything about last night and this morning and get a clear answer, but as it is, he just sits. Breathes. Accepts the lack of clarity for now at least. After all he doesn’t mind it, not when it’s with Eddie. 

Eddie must get fed up with him lounging there and not doing anything because he nudges Buck’s calf, the one he’s got his ankle hooked around. 

Buck sighs. Pretends he didn’t feel anything. 

Eddie, of course, just waits. 

Though he keeps nudging Buck. A constant little hey hey to get his attention or just get on his nerves. Probably both. 

Buck kinda loves him. And he’s kind of terrified by that. 

Eventually he does open his eyes, finding it hard to keep denying Eddie which isn’t anything new. 

Eddie’s eyes are large. Dark. 

Have they always been that way? Deep and expansive and consuming. Round enough to swallow Buck whole. The color of them all brown and soft enough to make Buck think of velvet. 

Jesus, where does Eddie get off on wielding those things? Fucking lethal. 

“What?” Buck asks. He doesn’t mean to cross his arms defensively, but he does, establishing a barrier he doesn’t really think he wants but just might need. 

Eddie notices. Narrows those pretty eyes. Quirks his mouth at an angle. “Let’s say, hypothetically, I asked you how you are right now. What would be the answer to that?”

Buck can’t bite back his smile. “Hypothetically?”

“Mhmm,” Eddie confirms, humming and nodding and looking terribly innocent. 

“ Like shit might be a good descriptor,” Buck says, shrugging like it’s nothing. He supposes, in the end, it really is nothing. Not in the grand scheme of things anyway. He’s been here before. Will probably find his way here again. Already it’s dulling. 

He’ll feel the hurt for a while, sure, but Buck is nothing if not an expert at hurting and making something good out of it. 

Eddie gives him a thoughtful little frown, head tilting in the same direction as his mouth. “Sounds about right. Hypothetically, of course.”

Buck laughs. A small laugh but a real one. Feel good. Kinda cleansing. Which isn’t a surprise because it’s Eddie who gives it to him. Eddie is good at that. Making things less heavy. Acknowledging the intensities with which Buck feels while taking the edge out of it. 

“Honestly, Eddie–” Buck pauses, tastes the ache and honesty rolling around in his mouth, faintly thinking about how being truthful about these kinds of things is always easy around Eddie, always easy in this kitchen, “I’m just…tired.”

“Physically or emotionally?”

“Both,” Buck replies with a huff. He leans forward, elbows landing on the counter, instinctively moving closer to Eddie because that will make it better. It has to. “I just can’t seem to get it right, y’know. I find these people and it’s…good for a while, but it–but it doesn’t work. And, yeah, I understood why most of the time, but now. I don’t know. Just–Well, I thought I had finally found it with–with Tommy. Nice to learn I didn’t though.”

“Look, Buck, the end of all your relationships isn’t fully on you. Particularly this time. And it’s not over for you, man. You’ll find it.” Eddie sounds so sincere, so sure. Like it is impossible to him that Buck could not get a happy ever after. 

Buck wants that type of faith. Had it once, but it’s wavering now. And mostly, he just wants to get on his knees and beg Eddie to give Buck that certainty. Give him faith. A part of him wonders if he should want that from Tommy instead, but–

“Yeah,” Buck says, unable to make it sound like he’s convinced. He looks away from Eddie, focusing on the countertop and tracing the small designs in it with his fingers. “Maybe. I’m tired of trying though.”

Eddie shoves his socked toes into Buck’s ankle, forcing Buck to look up at him. He’s smiling, gentle and kind and achingly beautiful. “No you’re not.”

Buck purses his lips to fight off an answering smile. Shrugs like he doesn’t know or care if Eddie is right or not. And before Eddie can say something else so simple yet devastating, Buck asks, “What about you?”

Eddie’s brows raise, almost high enough to meet the strands of hair flopping over his forehead. Buck wants to fix them. Soothe them back. Tug on them like he and Eddie are kids on a playground. 

“Me?” Eddie asks with a blank expression. He points a finger at himself for emphasis. 

Buck rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that .” He waves his hand back behind him, gesturing to the living room and the door where Eddie let Buck inside when he was in nothing but a shirt and underwear and looking freer than he has in months. 

Then he waves his hand in between them, alluding to Eddie’s current everything . Finally, he stretches over the counter and pokes at the bare skin above Eddie’s top lip. 

It’s soft. Really soft. And smooth. Almost innocent and young. Makes Buck feel like he’s on uneven footing which doesn’t make a lot of sense. He’s seen Eddie without a mustache much more than he’s seen Eddie with one, but he guesses he just got used to the way it covered him. 

A tiny sigh bursts between Eddie’s lips, fanning over Buck’s finger as he pulls away, feeling like he’s done something he wasn’t supposed to. But Eddie just blinks at him and grins, so it must be okay. 

“It’s just me, Buck,” Eddie says, casual as anything. He drags a hand over his mouth and coughs out something between a laugh and a huff. Then he spreads his hands out and wiggles his fingers. 

Please. As if Eddie could just be anything. There is something different, Buck knows it. Nothing fundamental or extravagant. But his smile, his expression–they are like they were last night. Buck can tell even with the glowing, graininess of his memories. 

“C’mon, Eddie,” Buck playfully pleads, scooting forward in his chair and aiming his best puppy dog eyes at Eddie. 

He needs the attention off of him right now. He needs to let go of last night’s weight. He needs to not be seen as poor pitiful Buck who got dumped. And he needs to know what’s going on with Eddie. 

Eddie looks at him like he knows what Buck is thinking, and hell, he might. They’ve always understood each other well for the most part. And it’s always been rather easy to look past each other’s veneers, find the vulnerability beneath, and know it is safe with the other even if it took a little time to get to it.

Eddie bites at the inside of his lip, sucking about half of it into his mouth, then he releases it with a sigh and scoots forward too, his arms stretching out until their hands nearly touch. 

“I’m trying to let myself experience joy,” Eddie says haltingly, not like he’s embarrassed exactly but more like he’s not entirely sure what that means to him but is attempting to figure it out. 

His eyes drag over Buck, from his messy hair down to where his chest digs into the counter’s edge. Something flares in his expression, but it’s gone before Buck can identify it. 

“Joy, huh?” Buck asks, a little bit delighted. He feels himself perk up, standing to attention, the mere thought of an Eddie who lets himself be happy and actively chases after it too good of a thing to not brighten Buck up. 

There are a few different tactics he could use here, ones he has perfected. Tactics that have to shift and change and accommodate the circumstances. 

With Eddie, sometimes you have to push, dig into him as much as he will allow until he ends up depositing whatever it is he is hiding into your hands. Other times he’s more open, more willing. And depending on the situation, sincerity and care can be met with either relief or resistance. 

Right now, Buck decides a light, teasing, playful hand is needed. Because Eddie looks…bare. Unearthed. New but also ancient. 

“So we are on opposite ends of the spectrum, huh? You with your joy and me with–” he doesn’t finish the sentence, just sits back and points at his nasty, hungover, newly single self. 

Eddie’s laugh is exactly what Buck wanted. What he needed. What he was searching for. 

It makes Eddie shine enough that he could rival the sun. Takes Buck’s breath away a bit. And he realizes just how much he wants that, how much he wants…things that he doesn’t understand and he’s not sure he can have or may be ready for, but god, Buck wants .

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters through his laugh.

“No,” Buck hurries to say, wondering how pathetic he would sound if he begged Eddie to keep laughing and talking and existing because Buck’s pretty sure that’s all he needs to feel better, to mend his heart. “No. Don’t–Don’t apologize. It’s good. You’re–” good. 

Buck doesn’t say it. But it’s true. So true. Eddie is good and he looks good too. He always does, but right now–Jesus, Buck feels like he’s been looking at the world through some kind of flimsy, obstructive filter and has just now been able to take it off, seeing things he never thought possible. 

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Eddie’s expression twists a bit then. Goes a little wry. Rueful. Buck wants to put his hands on Eddie’s face and squish it back to how it was before. But he’ll take this too. Anything Eddie gives. He’ll take it.

“I’m still not–great,” Eddie admits, grimacing a little bit. “Chris–” he trails off, the warm darkness of his eyes falling away from Buck’s and flicking around the room like he’s detailing all the places where Chris isn’t. “Without him, I’m not whole. But I’m making do.”

Yeah. Yeah, Buck gets it. Chris being gone has been a cold, mournful ache unlike anything else. And maybe it’s wrong of him to think he understands anything Eddie is feeling, but he does. He really does. 

Eddie plants his chin in his hand and smiles a smile that is tired but trying. 

“You’re making do,” Buck repeats with a nod, some pride leaking into his voice, his mouth curving around it into a grin that’s big and real enough for him to actually feel it. 

Eddie licks his lips. Lashes fluttering. Then he extends his pointer finger and pokes at the edge of Buck’s smile. 

Buck doesn’t know why it feels like Eddie is poking his heart. Except he might know. But he can’t–he can’t. 

“There it is,” Eddie says softly, poking the other corner of Buck’s mouth. “That’s better.”

Crying feels like a very real possibility and Buck hates Eddie for it, for this sensation of being simultaneously strangled and soothed, but he loves him more for it too. He has to swallow it back. All of it. Everything that threatens to pour out of him. 

His heart wobbles in his chest, all stuttering and hot and it only gets worse the longer he keeps looking at Eddie, who drops his hand away from Buck’s mouth carefully but doesn’t stop smiling prettily at him. 

The thing is, this isn’t exactly a new feeling. He’s felt it before around Eddie, with Eddie, for Eddie. But not quite like this. The intensity is different. More. Easter to hear and feel. Like it’s actually been tucked away and tied up and dampened, but now it’s been released so he can feel the entirety, the enormity, of it. 

Oh, God. Shit. Fuck. Dammit.

Buck thinks he might be very very screwed. 

Then he promptly ignores that thought because a guy can only handle so much change and so many revelations at a time. Later. He can deal with it and analyze it and spiral about it later. After the bruise of Tommy has faded. Less purple and more yellow as it begins to disappear. Yeah, that’s when he’ll do it. 

Buck trails his eyes over the curl of Eddie’s knuckles. The length of his arm. The slope of his shoulders. The flushed hollow of his throat. The dark fan of his eyelashes. The light in his eyes. His mouth. 

Okay, maybe not. 

Buck clears his throat, trying to scrape it clean of last night’s grit and this morning’s whatever then stands abruptly, grabbing onto his empty plate and Eddie’s and taking them over to the sink. 

“Please tell me I don’t have to go anywhere today,” Buck says over his shoulder, desperate for the thickness swirling around in his gut to dissipate. 

Eddie hums. “And why would I know that?”

“Eddie,” Buck whines. “Don’t make me.”

What is he even saying right now? Don’t make him what? Think about his schedule? His responsibilities? 

Those would be good guesses, but–Buck knows. He knows they both don’t work today. He knows he made no plans because, stupidly, he thought he would be spending a lazy morning in bed with his boyfriend, and now he’s here with Eddie and he’s got some big feelings going on about that, so what is he asking for really?

For Eddie to ask him to stay? For Eddie to let him stay? Buck knows he would, he has many times before, it’s just–God, Buck doesn’t know.

A distinctly frustrated scoff sounds off behind him right before Eddie says, “I’m not your mother, Buck.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Buck mutters under his breath. 

“And,” Eddie continues, blessedly unaware of the shit coming out of Buck’s mouth, “you’re stubborn as hell. I doubt I could make you do anything that you don’t want to do.”

Buck…isn’t so sure about that but whatever. 

“So,” Buck starts, drawing the last syllable out and turning on his heel to face Eddie with a carefully neutral expression, “what I’m hearing is…trashy reality TV day?” He raises his shoulders and ducks his head, squinting his eyes a bit and smiling, doing his best to look cute and impossible to deny. 

Truly, what the fuck is wrong with him.

Eddie’s eyes, oh , how they brighten. And his cheeks pinch from his smile, all red. Then he shoots Buck a finger gun. Dork. “Trashy reality TV day.”

The next several hours are spent kinda blissfully, slowly curing the horror of Buck’s hangover.

Buck and Eddie pile up on the couch, turn on Love Island , and sit back with an abundance of snacks and drinks to consume other people’s (most likely scripted according to Eddie and very very real according to Buck) drama and problems. 

Eddie’s commentary on everyone’s decisions has Buck laughing so hard his stomach hurts and it quickly begins to feel less like he is helping Buck nurse his heartache and more like…a regular day. But different too. Charged maybe. Or freer. Yeah, free. Like something has been torn down between the two of them, some barrier Buck wasn’t even aware existed in the first place. 

And, look, Buck is no stranger to being mesmerized by Eddie. It’s not rare for everything else to fall away when he’s in Eddie’s presence. It’s always been that way. Ever since a handshake and a vow that was interrupted by an explosion, which was the only thing that Buck could have possibly noticed in that moment. 

So yeah, Eddie just has a mesmerizing quality about him that most people can’t help but notice and be consumed by. He’s just…great. In a lot of ways. 

Eddie is kind and funny and charming and the best friend Buck has ever had, and again, none of that is new, but it all feels…sharper today. Brighter. More vivid. Less of a gentle nudge and more of a slap across the face.

Enough so that whatever realization Buck tripped his way into this morning keeps hitting him with a bruising, bloodletting punch.

Buck feels guilty for that. Because just last night he was happy with another man and subsequently got his heart broken because he thought he and Tommy were moving on to the next step and seriousness was gonna settle into their relationship with ease but nope . And it’s not that he’s over it or not hurting. 

He misses Tommy. He liked what they had together. Was interested in finding out what more there could be. But–

But it’s hard to feel that loss, that hurt, and it’s hard to truly miss Tommy when he is with Eddie.

So. Guilt. Plenty of it. More than the flash he felt when on his date with Tommy, realizing that oh that woman was very attractive and in other circumstances he might have tried something with her. It wasn’t wrong then, to feel that thrum of attraction, he knows that. 

It certainly feels wrong now. Because he wants something from Eddie. To be honest, he wants a lot from Eddie. More than what he has. More than what he should have probably. And there’s just so much of that want that Buck can hardly pinpoint it or define it. 

But desire is there. How can it not be when Eddie is stretched out beside him? How can it not be when Buck remembers the heat from Eddie’s bare thigh as it pressed against his last night? How can it not be when Eddie’s body is a long, attractive curve that seems drawn to Buck’s? How can it not be with that hair and those eyes and that mouth and fucking everything else?

Wrong. It’s so wrong. 

Maybe. 

Maybe not. 

Buck doesn’t know. His head is spinning and he just wants to poke and prod at this thing that actually feels so right that it’s scary. 

So that’s what he does. Because Buck has never met a scab he couldn’t pick at, never met an obstacle he won’t hurl himself over, never learned how to leave well enough alone because fuck that .

He looks at Eddie. Mouth dry. Hands clenched into fists. Skin stretched too tight over his bones. 

He looks at Eddie. Heart racing. Tummy flipping. Flushed like he’s been exposed to too much sun.

He looks at Eddie. Hungry. Empty. Yearning. 

And, eventually, Eddie looks back. 

His eyes darken when he turns his head to find Buck staring at him and his mouth parts, dropping open into a little o . 

Buck has no idea what he looks like right now. Doesn’t really want to know. Except yeah he does because however he looks has Eddie looking at him like that and Buck would like more of that please. 

Things go fuzzy. Like he’s had more alcohol, but the only thing Buck’s been consuming is Eddie. Eddie’s heat. Eddie’s smiles. Eddie’s full mouth. Eddie’s floppy hair. Eddie’s pink and golden skin. Eddie Eddie Eddie. 

And it’s not enough. Not nearly enough to satiate Buck. To fill the void he’s been carrying around since last night, since birth. 

Shouldn’t he keep trying to fill it though? It’s all he can do, right? 

And it’s not like Buck wants to use Eddie for that. He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He’s just–doing what they always do for each other. Expanding on it a little bit maybe, with heightened senses and boiling blood and images he can’t turn away from. 

Buck sees no point in denying himself and he craves . Not just this but–Eddie specifically. He craves it more than he’s ever craved anything before. And if he could bring Eddie even half the joy that Eddie brings him, well, then he has to try doesn’t he.

Eddie makes a questioning noise, his brown brown brown eyes falling slowly to rest on Buck’s mouth–which, hey, has actually gotten kind of close to Eddie's, how did that happen–and then shooting back up quickly to meet Buck’s gaze. 

Buck’s gaze which is probably too hot. Too wanting. Too stuck on every pretty inch of Eddie.

Eddie’s chin jerks up the slightest bit, barely an inch, but it’s movement and it’s towards Buck, a gesture that generally means c’mon , so Buck takes that as his sign. 

And he kisses Eddie. 

Kisses him. On the mouth. Something Buck never thought he would do. 

The risk here doesn’t even register. How could it when Eddie is the surest thing Buck has ever known. 

And Eddie remains sure, steadfast, unwavering as Buck kisses him.

It’s slow at first, a gentle press, because Buck is driven by a desire that’s rooted so deep in him it could never be clawed out and something too close to the love he’s been chasing for most his life, but he’s still hesitant. Scared. 

Enough so that he pauses when their lips meet. Breathes into the tiny space between Eddie’s lips, his mouth parted ever so slightly like he wants Buck to come inside but is as scared as Buck is. 

Then the kiss becomes alive. With its own heartbeat and blood and rhythm. 

Buck cups Eddie’s cheek in his hand. Guides him to tilt his head into Buck’s palm. Intakes a sharp breath when Eddie moans in surprise, in pleasure. Delves inside, licking into Eddie’s mouth. 

God, it’s good. Really good. Really really fucking good. 

Eddie tastes like the cherry cola he’s been drinking and the salty chips he stole from Buck. 

He tastes like something else too, something that must be distinct to him, and Buck’s stomach flips from the thrill of that, from the satisfaction of discovering this facet of Eddie that has been unknown to him before now. 

Buck chases the taste, goes after it without abandon. Sucks on Eddie’s soft tongue. Turns the kiss wet and sloppy and frenzied so it matches the tempo of his pulse. 

Eddie pushes a groan into Buck’s mouth, the sound so deep and dark and male. His fingers circle around Buck’s wrist, securing the palm Buck still has to Eddie’s cheek like he’ll fight tooth and nail before letting Buck leave or stop touching him. 

Every bit of it is a clash just as much as every bit of it is soft. It’s kinda like the invigoration of coming home after being away for so long. 

Buck is obsessed. Crazy. Thrown and off-balance and consumed and giddy. 

Giddy enough that he laughs onto Eddie’s tongue, because of course . Of course it’s like this. Of course this is it for him. 

His laugh splinters apart though when Eddie rips himself away. 

Buck blinks at him, chest heaving, the crack nestled in his heart threatening to give way, but Eddie is still touching him, still has his fingers around Buck’s wrist in a death grip, still looking at Buck with his shining eyes and slick mouth, still here still here still here. 

“Buck,” Eddie breathes, and it sounds devastating. 

Buck doesn’t want to hear his name said any other kind of way again. 

“Buck,” Eddie says again, everything about him startled and giving off alarms that ring in Buck’s ears and scratch at his skin. “We shouldn’t–I’m not–” he breaks off, brow furrowed like he’s trying to figure something out and is apprehensive about the answer. 

“This is a bad idea,” Eddie settles on saying. It sounds true, like he means it, but he’s swaying a bit, as if caught in a daze, and can’t look away from Buck’s lips, so…Buck isn’t exactly sure what to do here. 

But he does know what he wants. He knows what he’s feeling, for the most part anyway. And he knows what hasn’t worked for him and he knows that Eddie kissed him like it was salvation. 

So, Buck says, “Gotta be honest, I’m kind of sick of good ideas,” with a low tone as he swipes his thumb over the red curve of Eddie’s cheek. 

Good ideas haven’t really gotten him much and he reckons he is due for a couple bad ones. Even if no part of Eddie could be bad. Even if he’s having a hard time convincing himself that this is in fact a bad idea, because anything with Eddie can only be good, only ever has been good, even when it’s been awful.

But he waits. For Eddie. It’s not a hardship or a pain, only an inevitable thing he can offer up. He may slip his thumb lower so he can trace the edge of Eddie’s already puffy mouth and run the knuckles of his other hand along the inside of Eddie’s bare knee, but he doesn’t push or goad or ask for anything. 

He just waits. For a no. For a yes. He waits. 

And as he does so, Eddie softens. Becomes a little more pliant. Closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Turns his face to nuzzle into Buck’s palm. Opens his eyes. Puffs out his chest the way he always does when he’s bracing for something, when he’s taking a step he’s afraid to take. 

Gorgeous. All of it. All of him.

“Okay,” Eddie says, looking a bit surprised at himself. His lashes flutter and he drops his chin with a laugh then goes back to staring at Buck’s face like he’s never seen anything better. “Alright. Yeah. Fuck it.” 

He surges forward, kissing Buck so fiercely that Buck’s lungs cry out and his heart jumps and his blood pumps faster and faster, all bubbly and racing and glittery. 

Buck takes it, everything Eddie gives and extracts for himself, opening up wide for Eddie’s assault which is just as ravaging as it is gentle. 

Large large large hands frame Buck’s face, holding him tenderly, steadily, and then pushing him back back back until Buck is flush with the couch. 

Buck follows his direction. Bites at Eddie’s bottom lip. Swallows Eddie’s moan. Pants when Eddie breaks the kiss and then just about swallows his tongue when Eddie gets up on his knees and swings a leg over Buck’s thighs, climbing into his lap with ease. Effortless. Settling down with a sigh like it’s where he belongs. 

“Eddie,” Buck practically sobs, one hand clutching at the loose collar of Eddie’s shirt and the other petting at Eddie’s hip. The ridge of bone there underneath soft, thin skin is sending Buck into a whirlwind, so he presses his thumb hard into it and smiles when Eddie jolts and gasps. 

“Again,” Eddie pleads, orders, shoving the word in between Buck’s teeth. 

Buck caresses the hipbone, his touch soft as Eddie’s skin, then digs his thumb back into the bone and sinks his nail in a little bit as well. If it’s a sensitive spot for Eddie like hell is Buck not gonna get as much out of it as he can. 

Eddie hums, the vibrations of it dazzling on Buck’s tongue, and he thrusts his hips forward a little bit. Curls his fingers under Buck’s jaw to angle his head better. Releases Buck’s face to get his hands on Buck’s biceps, fingers clawing at where the sleeves of his dark green t-shirt start. 

“This– ah –color looks stupidly good on you,” Eddie rasps, shooting the words out like bullets and punctuating them with a slick kiss and a nip to the tip of Buck’s tongue. 

Buck howls a little bit then dumbly asks, “It does?”

“Yeah.” Eddie pulls back, hand flat on Buck’s sternum to keep him in place, looking at Buck’s chest and arms and waist. He’s so very flushed, vibrantly alive as he sits in Buck’s lap, the spread of his thighs indecent and the color of his eyes wicked. “Yeah,” he says again with a crooked grin. 

“Cool,” Buck says, trying to sound nonchalant as he tugs on the hem of Eddie’s shirt to bring him closer again. “I’ll never wear anything but this color then.”

Eddie laughs, bright and loud and belly deep. 

Buck would wince at himself, but he’s too caught up in Eddie’s beauty, in his vividness, in his joy. Goddamn but he looks good like that. And good isn’t even good enough of a word but it’s all Buck’s got. 

He just keeps tugging incessantly at Eddie’s clothes and tips his chin up, begging for another kiss as silently as he can, though distantly he can hear a bunch of high-pitched whining sounds that are, horrifically, probably coming from him based on how raw his throat feels. 

The sweep of Eddie’s lashes is slow. Mesmerizing. So is the movement of his knuckles as he drags them down Buck’s chest. 

“God, Buck, you look–” Eddie trails off and shakes his head. “Why did you come here looking like this?”

“Me?” Buck asks. “Eddie, you opened the door in your underwear .” 

He lets go the ferocious clench he has on Eddie’s shirt and gets his hands on Eddie’s neck, yanking him forward for a kiss, then abandons that spot in favor of sinking his fingers into Eddie’s sexy, messy hair then abandons that spot in favor of his thighs, rucking up his basketball shorts so Buck can touch and squeeze and claw at bare skin. 

“Fucking tightie whities,” he grumbles before kissing Eddie again, thorough and hot and biting. 

“I was– mmm fuck.” Eddie hisses, body rolling with the movement of Buck’s tongue, thighs flexing against Buck’s palms. He sinks a hand into Buck’s hair, tugging with demand. “I was having a moment, okay?”

“Mhmm, sure.” Buck moves from Eddie’s mouth to his neck, licking a long line up the tendon, practically tasting the moan Eddie lets out. 

He doesn’t get to stay there long though, certainly not long enough to leave his mark which he’s a bit upset about, because Eddie is dragging him back into a kiss and wrecking Buck’s world enough that he vows to mark Eddie up later. 

He’s skilled, is the thing. Kissing with a sort of precision that leaves Buck dizzy. 

“Shit,” Buck says when Eddie gives him a reprieve. “Y’re good at that.”

“Hmm? At what?”

“Kissing.”

Eddie giggles. Fucking giggles what the fuck. 

Buck wants to bottle the sound. Wants to force Eddie to make it again. Wants to record it and use it as ammo in the future. 

“Buck, why do you look mad about that?” Eddie asks, bruised mouth curved into a slashing kind of smile, once that could cut Buck wide open. He sort of hopes it does. Thinks about asking Eddie to try. 

But Eddie asked him a question and Buck doesn’t really know the answer. He’s not mad per se, but…He can’t say he expected it exactly. Not that he expected Eddie to be a bad kisser, just–

“I don’t know. It’s just–I don’t know. I’ve kissed a lot more people than you have so I guess I’m wondering how you got this good.”

“Jesus, Buck. Ever thought that maybe it’s not about quantity?”

Buck frowns. “No.”

Eddie cackles, mirthful and amused and probably frustrated too based on the squint of his eyes. “Poor thing,” he croons, curving his back in a way Buck didn’t think possible and nudging their noses together. “Upset that I’m better than you?”

“Okay,” Buck scoffs, “you’re not.”

“Does it matter when you’re reaping the benefits?” Eddie asks, calm and collected though the rich throatiness of his voice gives him away. As does the little circling thing his hips are doing and the sweet little touch his thumb leaves behind Buck’s ear. 

Buck doesn’t answer, choosing instead to get both hands on Eddie’s hips, scoot him closer, really feel all of Eddie’s juddering movements, and oh hello, Buck’s dick is an active participant now, all warmed up from the kissing and heavy petting and more than interested with Eddie’s weight on him and the barest hints of friction Eddie is providing with those goddamn circling hips. 

Eddie must feel it too because he falters a bit, lashes fluttering quick. He glances down at Buck’s lap and instinctively Buck does the same. Sees where his cock is tenting the sweatpants Eddie loaned him. Then sees where Eddie’s cock is just as filled as Buck’s, proof that Buck is doing good, that Eddie desires him. 

That’s a heady realization. Overwhelming really, because wow .

A part of him does wonder if the erections might be too much and cause Eddie to bro out on him, but really, Buck should get rid of any inclination he has to underestimate Eddie, because Eddie’s mouth goes tight with determination and his eyes flare and he ruts into Buck’s lap and against Buck’s stomach like he’s getting paid for it. 

Buck keens, all high-pitched and reedy because fuck this is good. And it probably shouldn’t be. At least to this degree. It’s just making out and somewhat awkward fumbling, the two of them eager and clashing as they kiss and pull at clothes and hump into one another like they are teenagers experiencing sex for the first time. 

But it just is that good. 

And it’s kinda endearing, how nervously into this Eddie is. Eyes shut tight like he’s undone by what he sees and needs a break from it. Mouth settled into a firm, determined line as he focuses. Noises bubbling out of his throat that sound awed and surprised. Hips shuddering and out of sync with Buck’s, chasing friction and heat and bliss as if this may be his only chance to get those things. 

Buck really fucking hopes it isn’t, but he doesn’t bother thinking about afterwards. After doesn’t exist right now. It can’t. There is just now. Just Eddie. 

Sucking Eddie’s bottom lip into his mouth quietens Buck’s mind, all thoughts of either getting more of this or not evaporating until they are nothing but vapor. 

Getting his hands on Eddie’s ass shuts his brain down completely. And his heart too for a minute. Because damn . 

Buck has always known Eddie’s got a great ass, it’s rather hard to miss, but goddamn . Buck grabs fistfuls of it, takes control of Eddie’s rocking, teases at Eddie’s fabric covered crack and pulls his cheeks apart which makes him squeal and break away from Buck’s mouth, brow furrowed as he pants. 

Yeah, what Buck wouldn’t give to bury himself in that ass, whether it be his face or his fingers or his cock. Any of those options would be a little difficult to do right now, but he’ll keep it in mind. It’s good to have goals after all. 

Eddie makes a sound then, one that Buck would call a growl if he was a bewitched heroine in some smutty novel but he’s not, so he doesn’t consider it a growl but more like a…guttural sob or even a fucked-out plea. 

He likes it either way. A lot. 

Buck likes it even more when Eddie slips his fingers past the hem of Buck’s shirt. 

His touch is searching and a little hesitant as he traces the swell of fat and muscle there, the pads of his calloused fingers drawing light, nonsensical patterns that drive Buck crazy and send his head into a tailspin as a hot, heavy ache settles in between his legs, cock begging for release, for pressure, for more.

He can’t help himself from shoving Eddie’s ass down onto said demanding cock nor can he stop the way his stomach trembles and jumps beneath Eddie’s touch.

Eddie smiles, the shape crystal clear through the lusty fog clouding Buck’s vision. He’s glad Eddie is pleased with the reaction at least, which makes Buck more willing to discard any control he might be able to claim he has. 

Then Eddie gets bolder, his touch firmer. Blunt nails scratch at the hair leading down into Buck’s sweatpants before curling around to Buck’s waist, the fucking tease, but that’s actually just as good too because Buck’s waist is so sensitive wow. 

In the six years they have known each other, Eddie definitely has touched his waist before. Buck knows that. He’s been moved by Eddie with gentle, nudging fingers to his waist plenty of times. Could actually anticipate the touch before it ever happened and allowed it anyway. And, sure, that was through clothing, but still .

Now, with nothing between Eddie’s wanting hands and Buck’s raw, flushed skin, it is heart-shatteringly new. Intimate. Sends a flood of adrenaline through Buck’s system. Calms him down too. 

Buck isn’t sure what the fuck to do with that so he just…keeps kissing Eddie. Becomes really acquainted with the captivating bow of his mouth, memorizing it so he can think about it later, so he can never forget. 

Something horribly fragile and colossal is bursting in Buck’s chest, raging against the cage of bone and flesh, fighting to get out, and Buck feels it and sees it and, worse, he knows it, but he doesn’t let it fully free. Not yet. Not yet.

“Eddie,” Buck cries, feeling like his skin is gonna rip apart and leave his blood staining this couch which hey maybe not an awful idea, at least some part of him could stay here forever then. “Please.”

What exactly he’s pleading for, he’s unsure. Could be anything. Could be everything, most likely. Whatever it is, Eddie, bless him, seems to understand. 

“Okay,” Eddie whispers. Pecks Buck’s mouth once, twice. Repeats, “Okay.” 

His brown eyes glitter so sharply it awakens a new ache in Buck and then his wandering hands move in between them, flicking over the pronounced head of Buck’s cock which is surrounded by damp, sticky cloth that drags over his slit awfully, wonderfully. 

Buck’s mouth drops open from the sensation, hips fucking up into Eddie’s lax touch, head falling forward onto Eddie’s shoulder as his hands clutch at the back of Eddie’s shirt. 

“Damn, Buck, you always get this wet?” Eddie asks, thumb pressing directly into the slit and holy shit Eddie is so good he is a genius Buck is gonna buy him so many presents after this. 

“Pretty much,” Buck answers once he catches his breath. 

“Wow.”

“That a good wow or a bad wow?”

“Just–Wow,” Eddie laughs. “Though–Yeah, okay, definitely good, I think.”

Buck retreats from the warm safe haven tucked into the curve of Eddie’s neck so he can see Eddie’s expression because it’s better when he can do that. Eddie’s face always gives away more than his voice if you know where to look. 

And he looks–unhinged to be honest. Like he’s caught sight of something new he didn’t realize he wanted until he saw it. Wonder lights up his face, makes him look younger and brand new to the world. 

Buck is a bit starstruck by him honestly. Can’t do much other than fuck up into Eddie’s still too light touch and lean back into the couch, gazing up at the strong length of Eddie and feeling so very small and human in comparison. As if he’s got a god or something in his lap. 

Eddie pulls his thumb away from Buck’s cock, directs a stern expression Buck’s way when Buck whines in protest, then glances at it for a moment. 

The barest hint of dampness clings to the pad, shining faintly in the light. Buck feels a strange sort of pride about getting worked up enough that his precome leaked through two layers of fabric to get onto Eddie’s skin like that. 

Eddie considers his thumb like it’s a fucking piece of legal documentation, thoughtful frown pulling his mouth into a sharp point, then he shrugs and sticks his thumb into his mouth, sucking on the pad with his eyes stuck to Buck’s. 

“ Hnnngh ,” Buck garbles, words a complete impossibility right now, especially when Eddie’s eyes flutter closed and his mouth shapes itself into a smile around his thumb. 

And, y’know what, Buck has had enough .

He gets a firm grip on Eddie’s wrist and yanks his thumb out of his mouth, ignoring Eddie’s look of indignation and the frustrated hey he lets out, and dips in to kiss Eddie, licking into his mouth and over his tongue. Can’t really taste much of himself, but still, it’s good. 

And then, while he’s got Eddie all pliant and open and moaning, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Eddie’s shorts and underwear. 

Eddie nods vigorously, mouth torn from Buck’s, before Buck can even ask if he’s allowed to keep going. 

Eddie’s hands are back on Buck’s face, holding him so dearly and making Buck feel far more emotional than he should considering the circumstances. Though, with Eddie, he can’t say that’s much of a surprise. Buck feels things intensely, yeah, but never more intensely than when he is with Eddie.

The part of him that is freshly dumped and has been left without someone he cared about and is scared that he’ll never have Eddie like this again wants to make him feel bad for that, ashamed, and begs him to stop, but no thanks .

He sticks his hand in Eddie’s shorts, ungraceful and urgent. Eddie’s cock is hot and soft and thick, precome dribbling down his shaft when Buck gets his hand around it. 

“ Oh ,” Eddie coughs out, eyes blinking wildly down at Buck who smiles ear to ear. 

Eddie huffs and drops his forehead to Buck’s, sighing when Buck drags his fist up to the cockhead and then he starts fucking into the tunnel of Buck’s fingers, his legs widening around Buck and making him drop lower in Buck’s lap. 

Perfect. 

Buck asks, “Is that good?” and it’s more genuine than he meant it to be. 

Eddie releases the tiniest sound of hurt and nods, his nose bumping into Buck’s, his mouth held wide open around heavy breaths and gasps that fan hotly against Buck’s chin. Then, “A little tighter,” Eddie requests. 

Buck has no idea why that pleases him so much, but it does. Forces him to let out a little hum that is a little bit choked and a lot delirious. He obliges Eddie, tightening his fist, jacking Eddie off with deliberate, brutal glides. 

It’s truly something, having Eddie like this. Having him writhing in his lap. Having him moaning Buck’s name. Having his arousal and pleasure in the palm of his hand, something very near to a heartbeat pulsing against Buck’s skin. It really drives home that this is happening. It’s real. 

Eddie is real and whole and wonderful and he’s letting Buck do this. He wants Buck to do this. Such an awe-filled thing, to have Eddie so into this. Into Buck . Never would Buck have anticipated it or have even thought to hope for it, but here it is, all for him. 

Buck has Eddie all desperate, chasing his own pleasure, willing to let Buck see it, see him. He is stunning like this, all dark gold and rose pink, his honey eyes filled with a pretty glimmer, his voice saying Buck’s name so goddamn sweetly, all stunned curiosity and pleased smiles and endless moans. 

It makes Buck feel firmly rooted in his own body. Alive. Joyful. Like he really truly fits, even with all his aches and pains. 

Buck kisses Eddie’s slack mouth, wishing he could make the inside of it his home for the foreseeable future, then kisses the smooth skin above his upper lip. Then his jawline. His cheek. The pulse in his throat. The hollow between his collarbones where Buck stays for a bit, sucking hard enough that Eddie’s blood rushes to the surface. 

Eddie grunts and curls a fist into the curls at the back of Buck’s neck. Presses his teeth to Buck’s temple. Shakes in Buck’s lap. Fucks messily into Buck’s hand. 

“Can I see you?” Buck asks, feverish and pitch dark. He licks over the faint mark he made. Squeezes the base of Eddie’s dick then moves up to play with the head, his thumb swirling around the wet slit. “ Please . Can I–Can I? Wanna see you.”

He does. He really does. Just touching isn’t enough. He wants to see. Wants more. He has so much of Eddie, more than he ever thought he would, and still he wants even more.

Thankfully, Eddie doesn’t have the problem with that, so willing to give what Buck wants to take. 

“Yeah,” Eddie grunts. Kisses Buck’s cheek, all open-mouthed and wet. “Yeah.” He leans back, grinning. His hair is damp against his temples. He smells like cedar and coconut and sweat. 

Eddie reaches into his own pants and gets his hand around Buck’s which is terrifyingly good and intimate and then he’s pushing Buck’s hand away and out. 

Buck can’t even formulate a possible complaint because Eddie is yanking down his shorts and underwear, his big big big hands so lovely in this light, in this circumstance, larger than life and strong and capable and Buck’s favorite thing in the world actually because they haul out Eddie’s cock and tremble a bit as Eddie sighs. 

God, it’s so pretty. And who knew that cocks could be pretty, but it’s something Buck has learned these past few months, and Eddie’s is…yeah. Flushed a deep red. Thick and proud. Veiny, more so than Buck’s. Tipped with a little pearly drop of precome that Buck wants to choke on. 

Eddie reaches forward and plucks at Buck’s collar, distracting him. 

Buck makes a questioning noise, mournfully looking away from that gorgeous cock, but really, it’s not such a loss when there’s Eddie’s face to look at. 

The smile Eddie gives Buck is cheeky and cute. He plucks at Buck’s collar again. “You. You too. Off.”

“Have I reduced you to singular syllables?”

“Asshole.”

Buck tilts his head. “Is that one word or two?”

Eddie’s laugh is hoarse and full of bared teeth. He slaps Buck’s shoulder with his free hand, the other gripped around his cock and motionless but still an amazing fucking sight. 

Buck smiles so wide his nose scrunches and reaches back to pull his shirt off. It goes semi easily thankfully, getting a little stuck around his shoulders but he manages to wriggle free in a way that isn’t horrifyingly embarrassing. 

He throws it to the side then grabs onto Eddie’s bare hips which are so beautiful what the fuck, and leans in to taste those joyfully bared teeth, kissing Eddie until his laughter and smile fades away. 

“See?” Buck asks teasingly. “I can follow directions.”

“Mmm,” Eddie hums, the edge of his grin cutting and mean and lovely. “Very good.”

The praise, small as it is, kicks Buck in the gut. He pitches forward from it, whining and desperate as he drinks in the taste of that praise from Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie makes a noise of interest, deep in chest, muffled because it can’t really be free since Buck is occupying every inch of space that Eddie’s mouth provides, but it’s discernible enough that Buck hears it and knows Eddie caught onto his reaction. 

So he decides to distract him because God knows how Eddie will use Buck’s praise kink to his advantage. 

He tightens his hold on Eddie and flops him over onto his back, pulling and arranging his legs so they are spread out and wide open enough that Buck can yank all that stupid fabric off of him, except for his socks because that will require far too much effort, and then fits himself between Eddie’s thighs. 

Eddie blinks up at him, stunned. Mewls a little bit when Buck descends down far enough that Eddie’s cock drags against his stomach. Grabs hold of Buck’s bicep with an appreciative squeeze and hauls him into a kiss that is…not really a kiss exactly. More like an exchange of breath and desperation and lust. 

Buck gets a hand between them and rucks Eddie’s shirt up to his pecs, his skin so goddamn smooth that Buck trembles from it. 

Eddie’s thighs are a vice around Buck’s waist, closing tight as more of himself is bared. 

“You’re gorgeous, Eddie,” Buck breathes. 

Eddie just laughs. 

“I mean it.” Buck traces lines up and down Eddie’s side, fingers skittering over the swell of his ribcage, mouth dropping down to his sternum for a kiss that tastes like coconut. “Gorgeous.”

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie pants, a hand coming up to his face and staying there. 

Buck sighs. “No. It’s Buck.”

Eddie barks out another laugh and kicks Buck’s thigh with his heel. “I hate you.”

Buck props his chin on Eddie’s chest, beams up at him, then raises his head to look down at Eddie’s cock. “ He doesn’t seem to hate me.”

The width and thickness of Eddie’s hand where he braces it on Buck’s shoulder is…startling and bright and wonderful. It squeezes Buck, pinching him a bit, but the tiny pain of that is nothing compared to Eddie’s shine as he smiles so broadly, amused and fond and something else Buck doesn’t dare look at or acknowledge right now. He can only bear so much. 

“Yeah, he is kinda into you, who knew. Can’t imagine why,” Eddie says with a laugh. Then, sounding hungry and vulnerable, his fingers digging into Buck’s skin as he thrusts his cock up against Buck’s belly button, “Buck. Okay. You gotta–Just do something, alright?”

There is far too much Buck could do. That he wants to do. 

But for now, he’ll do something he’s been wanting since he saw Eddie’s cock, which hasn’t been that long really, but it’s a nice enough cock to change your life a little bit. 

“I’m gonna blow you,” Buck declares. 

Eddie squeaks. “Um. Okay.”

It’s cute. Very cute. Buck doesn’t say so because he’s sure it’ll get him kicked again, but he thinks it boldly, loudly as he starts sucking kisses below Eddie’s pec, thumbing over the nipple and smiling into Eddie’s skin when he hisses, body jerking as if Buck has plucked some sensitive, taut part of him. 

He keeps playing with Eddie’s nipple as he goes down, sliding his mouth over Eddie’s skin and leaving behind wet trails, biting at the curve of his hip bone, skipping past his cock and kissing the paleness of his inner thighs. 

Eddie is quiet beneath Buck’s ministrations. Very active and writhing and petting Buck’s hair in appreciation, but the pitch of the sounds he lets out remains low. Some escape him a little louder than others, startled and almost high-pitched, but for the most part he is just a tenor of vibrations and rumbles. 

Buck isn’t sure if that’s natural or from practice. Wants to ask. He doesn’t. 

It doesn’t take long before Buck gives up his soft assault, too fed up with teasing himself as well as Eddie, too aching and hungry and empty to not follow through with his intentions. 

Eddie’s cock slides into his mouth with ease, slick from precome and the spit Buck brought to the front of his mouth. The head bumps against Buck’s palate which drags moans out of both of them. His heat and taste and softness flood Buck’s mouth in a way that is so satisfying, so fulfilling. 

Buck has always liked getting his mouth on someone. In his 1.0 era he chased after eating pussy like it was a damn sport, something so delicious and warm and good and intimate about being buried between a woman’s legs, having her arousal in his mouth, feeling the pulses of her orgasm against his tongue. 

It’s not so very different with men, it turns out. Buck loves it just as much. The mechanics differ of course. The pressure and vulnerability of holding a cock between your teeth isn’t like the soft slickness of a cunt. It’s hard and unyielding. Still soft, but in a different way. 

The rest is the same. Tasting the purity that only lies between someone’s thighs. Paying attention to their sounds and movements so you know what’s right and what isn’t. Wielding his tongue like a goddamn weapon, alternating between being softly gentle and brutally fierce. 

Eddie sure seems to like it. 

His hips buck up, nearly shoving his cock down Buck’s throat, but Buck gets an arm across Eddie’s waist in time to stop that happening. Buck did the same thing when–well, he did the same thing the first time his dick got sucked by a dude. 

Buck holds him down, attempts to smile when Eddie huffs out a near breathless whine and clutches so hard at Buck’s shoulder that the skin smarts, and closes his eyes. Falls into the bliss of this. Turns into nothing but a mouth. Nothing but pleasure. 

The musk of Eddie’s arousal becomes so thick it clogs Buck’s nose. Slides down his throat. Tumbles around low in his belly, tightening the painful coil that’s already hooked there. Buck loves it. Wants to drown in it. 

He bobs up and down, sometimes at a steady pace and sometimes more frantic, keeping that up for a while and then releasing Eddie. Tapers his tongue to a point and flicks it over the slit. Mouths at the frenulum. Nudges his teeth against the underside. Brushes the head over his lips, circling around and around until Eddie’s precome coats him like lip gloss. 

Eddie’s inhale sounds sharp. Broken. Full of a crackling sort of thing that could shatter bone. 

Buck glances up at him from beneath his lashes, playing a little at being coy, though he’s not sure how successful he is because he’s filled to the brim with pride at seeing Eddie’s dilated eyes and heaving chest, and he’s so turned on it hurts, and he’s pretty sure every inch of him is communicating how much he loves this. 

“God, Buck.” Eddie shudders. Moves his hand away from Buck’s shoulder. Rubs his thumb over the corner of Buck’s mouth where it’s stretched around his cock. Shudders again. “Your mouth . Fuck.”

Buck hums. Swallows a laugh when the vibrations make Eddie tense. Pulls off and asks, “Good?” with a voice that’s been scraped raw and is bleeding all over the place. The thing in his chest feels the same way. Cut open and vulnerable and leaking. 

Eddie blows out a breath then tucks his thumb back into the corner of Buck’s mouth. Kinda like a kiss. Something tender in the midst of filth. The type of thing you offer someone who is…beloved. 

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, smiling a smile that is so very small and private. “Good.” He laughs and drops his head back. “So good. Now, get back to it.”

“Yes, sir,” Buck replies haughtily. 

Eddie groans and lays a hand on the back of Buck’s skull. Not forceful. Not pushing him anywhere. Just there. Grounding. Gentle like Eddie doesn’t know any other way to be. 

Buck takes Eddie’s cock back into his mouth, increasing the frequency and intensity of all his best moves. He hollows his cheeks and tongues at the head and wraps his fingers around the base, creating a tight circle that he meets with his mouth. Takes a deep breath and relaxes his throat so Eddie’s tacky cockhead can just begin to breach it. 

“Gonna–” Eddie cuts off, fingers curling into Buck’s hair. The scratch and pull of them is decadent, sending a line of liquid heat shooting down Buck’s spine to pool at the base and then wrap around to harden in his thighs, pulling at his heavy cock. “Buck,” Eddie chokes. “Gonna come. I’m gonna–”

Thank fucking God. 

Buck mumbles his encouragement. Sucks at Eddie hard and long enough that his jaw starts to go pleasantly sore. Tightens the circle of his fingers. Lingers around the crown, playful and punishing. 

Eddie lets out a little hiccup of a sound and then he’s coming. Spilling into Buck’s mouth, hot and sticky. It collects against the inside of Buck’s cheeks and tunnels down his throat and dribbles over his chin. 

It’s a glorious thing, even in its mess. Especially because of its mess. Especially because it's Eddie’s mess which Buck can only ever accept and clean up as much as he’s allowed.

Buck takes as much as he can, keeping his mouth around the head and lapping at each pulse of Eddie’s orgasm, maintaining the warm, wet fluttering of his mouth around his softening cock. 

Eddie sighs like he’s received benediction. Like he has been freed. Unfists his hand from Buck’s hair to pet at him. Hisses when it becomes too much and weakly bats Buck’s face away from his cock. 

Honestly, Buck wishes he could stay. Would love nothing more than to keep Eddie’s cock in his mouth for, well, forever maybe. A dangerous thought, but he’s best at those. He’s best at aching for what he already has.

But he lets go. Because even if this isn’t something he can hold onto, Buck knows that he can stay. Eddie won’t make him go too far. He hopes not anyway. 

Buck rests his forehead against Eddie’s hip, adjusting to his empty mouth, breathing breathing breathing. It’s still warm here, held between Eddie’s legs, surrounded by his skin and his heat and the pulse of his heart that bangs around in Buck’s ears even louder than his own does. 

Yeah, still warm. Still safe. 

Fingers nudge insistently at his back, his shoulder, his neck, his face. 

“What?”

“Get up here,” Eddie demands, voice cracking. “I wanna–Get up here.”

Well, Buck isn’t going to start denying Eddie now . Especially when he’s willing to face Buck after that .

That being a mind-numbing orgasm at the hands, or, well, the mouth of his best friend. 

Buck won’t say that he hasn’t ever offered Eddie anything of worth before this, but it’s nice to be able to give him this too. 

Slowly, gingerly he crawls back up Eddie, hissing between his teeth from the sharp hurt of his neglected cock which is trying to peek past the waistband of his sweatpants. 

When he’s braced over Eddie, his heart about stops. 

Surely, Eddie’s beauty has got to wear off at some point, except Buck doesn’t really think it will. He’s been aware of it in some abstract way since day one, and now, six years and one (arguably two??) sexuality revelation(s) later, Buck is able to see it in a much more visceral way than before. 

Especially post-orgasm. Shimmering with the beginnings of the afterglow. 

Pre-orgasm Eddie is a stunner no doubt, but after coming Eddie is devastating . So much softer and open and vulnerable. Boyish. Free of tension. Covered in a blushing red. Smile all lopsided and wobbly. Eyes dark but also bright, looking at Buck like…God, Buck doesn’t even know how to describe it, just knows that he’s already addicted to it. 

Eddie wraps loose arms around Buck’s shoulders. Pulls him down. Kisses him. Languid and luxurious. Like a keepsake not something fleeting. 

“You taste like–me,” Eddie murmurs, softly, full of wonder. He traces Buck’s mouth. Grins impishly. 

“Well, you did just come in my mouth.”

Eddie blinks. “I did do that. That is a thing that I did.” Then he nods very seriously. 

Something flutters wildly in Buck’s chest. Soft and velvety like butterfly wings. Violent and raging like a storm. 

“Kuzco’s poison. The poison for Kuzco,” Buck tosses back at Eddie, unable to resist the tease. 

Eddie’s snort is deep and inelegant. “Hush.” Then he kisses Buck again to make sure he does in fact hush. Buck doesn’t mind. 

After Buck’s mouth has been thoroughly explored and cleaned, Eddie says, “Your turn.” His eyes drop down to the tent in Buck’s pants, lashes beating like crazy, mouth twisting into a rough shape. “I’m not sure how to–What do you want?”

When Eddie looks up at him, Buck is struck by how…sincere he is. Genuine. Ardent. Determined. Like he’s bothered that Buck has been left hanging so far and wants to fix that but isn’t exactly sure how to do so. And Eddie hates that. Hates not knowing what to do. Hates the unknown. But he’s being so honest about it. As if he doesn’t mind Buck seeing him this way. 

If it wouldn’t ruin the mood, Buck might puke. 

Instead, he takes care with Eddie. And he does that by acting the way he usually does, because there’s no pretense here, no role to fill, no bullshit. 

“I’d say you have some experience handling a cock,” Buck says lightly, bending down to kiss Eddie again while he draws circles over the skin just above Eddie’s soft dick.  

Eddie blows a raspberry against his lips. “Didn’t answer my question.”

God, if Eddie really knew all the things Buck wants…but no. Buck doesn’t think Eddie is ready for that. Doesn’t even know if he himself is. Can barely make sense of it all beyond this moment here and now which he knows he’ll have to leave behind eventually, but that’s future Buck’s problem. 

Buck sinks down fully between Eddie’s legs, knocking them a little wider apart with his knees. He plants his elbows on either side of Eddie’s head and brushes their noses together. “Get me out,” he whispers, jerking his chin down to his cock. 

Eddie mouths at his jaw and does as he is asked. Sort of anyway. He places a hand flat against Buck’s sternum first. Digs his fingertips into the hair and muscle there, then slides it down Buck’s chest slowly, his eyes following the descent. 

When he gets to Buck’s waistband, he quickens his pace. Shoves his hand past Buck’s underwear and pulls him out while using his other hand to push both sweatpants and boxers down to the top of Buck’s thighs. 

Eddie strokes him, a little messily and awkwardly. The angle doesn’t really make for the best kind of anything, but Eddie tries his damndest. Thumbs over the head. Lets his fingernail dig into the slit. Chokes the shaft a bit. It is startlingly good. 

“How do you like it?” Eddie asks as if he isn’t already turning Buck’s world upside down enough that he’s close to coming just from this alone. “Huh?” he prods, looking back up at Buck. “Tell me,” he goads through a saccharine smile. 

Buck is so fucking fucked. He cannot answer. Is incapable. So he just…moans and sighs and fucks into Eddie’s hand and says, “You’re doing good. Real good. So–So good for me.”

Eddie spits out a ravaged kind of sound. And Buck swears he feels Eddie’s cock twitch a little bit, moving with the jerk of his body.

Something fucking shimmers hotly in Buck at that. 

“Okay,” Buck says. Has to clear his throat because it’s grown tight and thick. “N–Now, bring your–bring your thighs together a little bit.” 

Eddie grins up at him, something vulnerable and hidden about it, and does as Buck asked, keeping hold of Buck’s cock and using it like a fucking leash to pull him close, to slot the wet throb of his dick into the now somewhat tight space between Eddie’s thighs. 

“Good?” Eddie taunts with a jaunty little tilt of his head. 

Buck chuckles. Drops his head down to that curve between Eddie’s neck and shoulder. Clenches his stomach and starts thrusting. “Good,” he moans in reply. 

“Good,” Eddie repeats like an idiot. He drags a hand down Buck’s spine, soothing and lovely, then dips his chin and knocks it against Buck’s cheek, drawing him out of his hiding place. 

Buck is yanked into a kiss. Held. Petted. Almost fucking adored as he fucks Eddie’s thighs. 

They get slick real quick from the amount of precome Buck is still leaking, like a ruined, cracked valve that can’t contain anything anymore. 

Eddie is soft everywhere, but he is so soft here. A sort of never been touched, never been exposed kind of soft, which Buck knows isn’t the case, but still. 

The sparse spackling of hair only makes it worse. Or better technically. It clinks to Buck’s cock and scratches against the head and turns silky from the wetness Buck is spreading all over the place. 

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” Buck chants, pouring the name onto Eddie’s tongue and fighting with everything he has not to clench his teeth. “Shit, ‘m not gonna last.”

He really isn’t. Is so close already. Stomach clenched tight and bruising, more so than any fist. Balls drawing up and aching. Heart beating a furious rhythm. Blood screaming. White-hot sparks going off behind his eyelids. Nerves shot and drenched in sun-warmed honey. 

“That’s alright,” Eddie promises. His hands touch every inch of Buck that is bared to him, like he’s amazed, like he is still hungry too, like he isn’t sure if he is allowed. “C’mon.”

Buck’s pace turns frantic. Brutish. Sloppy. 

He spears his cock in between the pretty, soft clench of Eddie’s thighs. Cries and shakes and moans. Drops his heavy body further down, enough so that the head of his cock slips and brushes lightly against Eddie’s hole. They both whine at that. 

And Buck, with his foggy head and ravenous need, doesn’t relent. Slides a hand down to push against the back of Eddie’s thigh. Opens him up. Kisses the keen out of his mouth. Grabs at the edge of his ass cheek and pulls. Directs his cock more firmly against Eddie’s rim. 

He can’t see it like this which is a shame, and he can’t really kiss Eddie either thanks to the delirium blasting through him and making him practically incompetent which is an even bigger shame, but he keeps at it. 

His soaked cockhead nudges against Eddie’s entrance in plea, in promise. The pinch of the furled muscle scratches just right at Buck’s cock and combined with Eddie’s suddenly loud exclaiming sob and the way his limbs wrap around Buck so tightly and Eddie’s roughly uttered, “Come for me,” and something else that sounds like “ God , you’re beautiful,” well, Buck is undone. Over. Broken apart. Remade.

Buck comes and comes and comes. All of it splashing over Eddie’s hole and the backs of his thighs, and probably onto the couch which, oops, hopefully he can distract Eddie from that later. 

His orgasm yanks everything out of him, the warm, glittering spiral of it blasting outward and leaving him hollow but also so full that he’s unable to do anything but collapse onto Eddie who grunts but takes his weight. 

Buck breathes and settles. Skin sweaty and sticking to Eddie’s. Hot and trembling. Blood pounding. Sensitivity raking over every inch of him. 

The pieces of clothing they still have on are so very damp and restrictive and quite annoying, but Buck can’t make a move to do anything about them and Eddie seems to be in the same boat. 

“Wow,” Buck finally says, blowing the word out against Eddie’s neck. Goosebumps follow, tiny, raised bits of Eddie’s skin, and Buck is entranced. That is because of him . Right?

Eddie’s laugh is rough and sticky. “Yeah. Wow.”

Neither of them move. Neither of them looks at the other. 

Eddie does sweep his hand up and down Buck’s back though, full of a calm that's either real or forced, Buck can't tell, and honestly, he's afraid to know so he just focuses on Eddie's touch. He traces little swirls into Buck’s skin. Caresses his palm along Buck’s vertebrae. Breathes deeply enough that his chest expands against Buck’s. 

Buck shifts his legs back and forth, nudging Eddie’s knees and ankles with his own. Lays a hand on Eddie’s half covered chest, the heel of his palm on bare skin while his fingers bury themselves in his shirt. He taps out an off-beat rhythm. Nuzzles into Eddie’s neck. 

He’s not sure where they go from here. Ideally a clean-up. Maybe some fresh clothes. A shared shower would be cool but Buck isn’t sure that is something he gets. He wants it. Not just because of–well, not solely because apparently he desires Eddie like crazy, but because he just wants to remain close, be kept. Maybe potentially be someone’s last. 

A crazy thing to want now. Absolutely insane, but he’s not sure it’s new. It’s familiar, aged. Buried somewhere he thinks, only to be unearthed by a colossal set of wild circumstances. Set free from Eddie breaking him open. 

And it’s not like–Okay, it’s not like Buck has never had sex like this. He’s had plenty of good sex in his life with a lot of different people. People he has loved and people he didn’t. So he’s well acquainted with what really fucking good sex feels like, but–

But it’s Eddie. This is Eddie. It was with Eddie. 

Eddie, who is Buck’s best friend. Eddie, who knows Buck in a way he never thought anyone but his sister would. Eddie, who is right and wonderful and awful and good. Eddie, who Buck knows deeply, intimately. Eddie Eddie Eddie. And that makes all of this so far beyond phenomenal. 

There’s some shame about that, waiting for when Buck can examine it when he’s not focusing on how having Eddie bare underneath him, held close, sated and content for the moment with no goal in mind might just be his favorite thing. The best thing.

Buck shuffles closer to Eddie even though there’s nowhere for him to go. Unless he finds a way to crawl beneath Eddie’s skin that is. 

He doesn’t want to think about how he thought he found forever and was wrong. He doesn’t want to think about how a day ago he hadn’t expected to be doing this with anyone other than Tommy. He doesn’t want to think about how easy it is to feel an emotion for Eddie that he can’t really define but knows is strong and impenetrable, like he’s been building the foundation of something more with Eddie this whole time despite trying with other people. 

But here he is. And he’s loving it. And he’s not sure he would want to be anywhere else even if he could be. It’s fucked. Has to be so fucked, but lying here with Eddie, feeling his hands on his skin, coming down from a high that was so lovely and eternal, well, Buck can’t say he regrets it. Any of it. 

Buck won’t take this back. 

Ending up here with Eddie, it’s right somehow, even if it’s going to ruin everything. Even if he gets his heart broken today, tomorrow, months, or even years from now. Even if it has opened the two of them up to something irrevocable that they might mess up. Even if Buck is terribly aware of the capacity he has to hurt if he never gets more than this. 

Even if firsts and lasts can’t be the same thing, a thought that is more sickening than any of the others.

It doesn’t matter. 

Because the thing is, Eddie is worth it.