Eddie wants to get the hell out of here.
He feels kind of bad about it, because Bobby and Athena throw a great barbecue, and any other day of the week he’d love to grab a beer and settle in for as long as they’ll have him. Any other day of the year, really—
Just not the same day Buck kissed him.
He’d always imagined that if he ever scraped enough resolve together to try something with Buck, it would happen in the heat of the moment. After a close call on a rescue, maybe, or at a bar after a shift sometime, when he has just enough alcohol in him to push past the nagging doubts in his mind.
He’d always imagined that if anything ever happened, it would be because he took that first step. He could, when he was feeling hopeful, imagine Buck would be into it, but it had never even crossed his mind that Buck might want him enough to be the one to cross the invisible line between friends and something more.
Two hours ago, he stood in the firehouse parking lot and watched Buck pace and forth in the artificially bright glow of a streetlamp for all of thirty seconds before drawing to a stop right in front of him, toe to toe across the faded outline of a parking space.
“I’m going to do something,” Buck said, the warmth of his exhale ghosting across Eddie’s skin. “And you can tell me if I’m wrong. But—” he hooked one finger in the belt loop of Eddie’s jeans, tugging slightly, and the movement danced like lightning down Eddie’s spine.
“—I don’t think I’m wrong.”
And he tugged on the belt loop again, pulling Eddie closer into his space, and pressed his mouth to Eddie’s.
It seemed to last a lifetime, and it was over far too soon. Buck pulled back, careful, drawing a ragged breath, and Eddie leaned into chase him and found Buck grinning against his lips.
“Not wrong, then?” Buck murmured, and it took Eddie a moment to remember what Buck had said just before.
“Definitely not wrong,” he breathed. The words were half-lost in Buck’s mouth but he must have understood them anyway, because he laughed, bright and clear, before pushing Eddie up against the car behind him to kiss him again.
It was only when Buck’s phone rang, vibrating in his pocket so that Eddie felt it against his own thigh, that they remembered the barbecue. And that they’d promised to bring ice.
So now Eddie’s here, and for the first time he can remember he desperately wants to leave.
He and Buck hadn’t really talked about it, so he’s trying to act normal. Which is to say he’s trying to act like he doesn’t want to walk across Bobby and Athena’s backyard and grab Buck by the collar to drag him in for another kiss. Or to demand what the fuck it means.
He would describe himself as moderately successful.
But in Eddie’s defence, if the rest of them knew the situation he doesn’t think they could blame him for the way his eyes keep getting drawn to Buck no matter where he is, like the universe is shining a spotlight on him. It’s not his fault Buck’s laugh lights up the room and he can’t help but look.
It’s not his fault that Buck catches him looking, sometimes, and smiles a smile that says he’s thinking about what happened in the parking lot.
A smile that says he’s thinking about doing it again.
And it—well, maybe it is his fault when he grins back, his face trying to settle on something somewhere between wanting and bashful, but there are extenuating circumstances. He is, after all, only one man.
Overall, Eddie’s pretty sure nobody could blame him for the fact that he wants to get the hell out of here.
Just then, Hen sidles up to where he’s leaning against the kitchen island and settles in next to him, mirroring his position and crossing her arms.
“You should take your man home,” she says.
Eddie flushes, and she laughs.
“You’re not being particularly subtle,” she says. “Either of you. I don’t know what happened exactly—” she raises a hand when Eddie tries to open his mouth “—and I don’t need to know. But you should take him home before it happens again on Bobby and Athena’s patio.”
Eddie’s face feels so warm he’s surprised he can’t see cartoon heat lines wafting off his cheeks.
Hen laughs again, gentler this time. “No one’s judging you, Eddie,” she says, and nudges him with her elbow. “I remember what it was like in the beginning. So go, take him home. I know you want to.”
“I—yeah,” Eddie says, and lets himself grin. “I really do.”
He doesn’t need to look for Buck, because he already knows where he is. He makes his way across the room, through their gathered friends and family, and over to where Buck is talking to Chimney. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as he does it, but Hen said it was obvious anyway, so he takes a deep breath and stands behind Buck, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder.
“Hi,” Buck says, breathy with surprise but his cheeks pink with pleasure.
“Hen said I should take my man home,” Eddie says, and makes a concerted effort not to look at Chimney. He focuses instead on Buck’s cheek against his, and the way it crinkles when he smiles.
“Did she?” Buck says. “I guess we should listen to the captain, then.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Eddie murmurs. They slip through the room, and Eddie tries to avoid Hen’s knowing look as they duck out of the front door without bothering with goodbyes.
As soon as the door closes, Eddie grabs Buck by the hips and pushes him against it, crowding into his space. “This is all I’ve been thinking about all night.”
“It’s only been two hours,” Buck says.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot longer than two hours,” Eddie says, and watches Buck’s eyes go dark. Then he grins. “Besides, do you want to nitpick, or do you want to kiss me?”
“I can multitask,” Buck says, and Eddie laughs and kisses him for it, and for a moment the world narrows to just the two of them, wrapped up in each other against Bobby’s front door.
“Actually,” Buck murmurs, a moment or three later, when Eddie’s forehead rests against Buck’s and both their breaths come a little heavy. “I wanna change my answer.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “To what?”
“I want you to take me home.”
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