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Eddie is starting to think Buck has a checklist of what he finds attractive in a woman. Which sounds insane, but it’s Buck, so it’s not out of the question. What gets him suspicious is when they’re in a bar together and a woman starts flirting with him. He’s not into her, or at least he’s not more into her than he is interested in hearing the rest of Buck’s monologue on the dodo. So he keeps turning back to Buck, but she keeps putting her hand on his arm and leaning in and asking him questions.
She asks, “Do you want to get out of here?”
Buck’s reply is flat. Eddie’s almost grateful for it, because it starts out normal. “He’s not interested.” Eddie nods. It’s true, he isn’t, and it’s nice of Buck to say it since she obviously wasn’t getting the hint. “He doesn’t like it when women wear pants.”
“What the fuck, Buck?” Eddie asks.
The woman’s already stalking off, probably to start telling the horror story of this 1950s man to her friends, but Eddie doesn’t care about her. He cares about Buck, who apparently thinks he’s a stereotype of a chauvinistic man who doesn’t think women can provide for themselves. Which, okay, Eddie did struggle with that in his marriage, but hey. That was over half a decade ago. He’s reformed. And he’s never had an issue with pants. Pants are nice! He wears them. Buck wears them and looks good in them. Not that Eddie is looking. But that isn't the point. He's not an anti-pants sort of guy and that’s what matters.
Buck blinks at him. Eddie can’t tell if he’s feigning innocence or if this is another example of him not realizing that what’s come out of his mouth is deeply inappropriate. Buck says, “You like dresses and skirts better.”
Why can’t Eddie stay mad at this man? “You do know that women can change their clothes, right?” But he doesn’t hold it against Buck. He lets Buck go back to telling him about research into dodo kneecaps and their mobility.
He goes home alone. As he’s falling asleep, a thought hits him. He does like how women look in skirts. He’d loved Shannon’s sundress collection and Ana’s pencil skirts she’d wear to work sometimes. He’s down for the count before he can wonder if he really is a 1950s relic.
The thought sticks somewhere in the back of his mind. He considers it, occasionally, but never with any depth. So he likes skirts on women. That’s not exactly the height of kink. Marisol used to get him to wear a construction vest sometimes, back before the secret nun reveal that had ruined their relationship. Ana liked playing teacher. Shannon used to tie him up and smack his ass. People like what they like.
Eddie gives a little bit of thought to why Buck knew that about him, but they spend a lot of time together. Eddie knows more than he’d like to about what Buck’s into, especially now that Buck’s learned he’s bisexual and is experimenting with gay porn. It’s no surprise it goes both ways.
“Eddie is a boob man,” Buck informs Chimney over breakfast in the loft a few weeks later. Eddie chokes on his coffee.
“Buck,” he snaps when he can breathe.
Buck looks at him innocently again. “So when Shannon was pregnant, did you like–”
Eddie cuts him off harshly, snapping, “I was deployed.” But the answer to the question, when he and Shannon were in the same country, was yeah, obviously. He’ll tell Buck later. Privately.
Everyone else is eager to move on from that discussion, so Chimney drops the subject of Maddie’s complaints about the Dispatch polos and Hen jumps in with an update on Denny’s big English project. But Eddie keeps thinking about it. Buck’s right, is the thing. He is a boob man. He’s not sure there’s any possible way to say that without being creepy, but it’s true. He likes breasts. When he and Shannon started having sex he was entranced by them. He’d leave her bra on for ages, appreciating the view, and then when he’d unhook it he’d feel like he was unwrapping a present. But it’s not like it’s weird to like them. Maybe weird for Buck to know, but Eddie knows that Buck’s an ass man, so maybe it’s a byproduct of having a best friend.
When it comes to his pussy preferences, Eddie’s ready to draw a goddamn line. Buck is on his phone, because he set up a dating profile for Eddie and insisted he was going to get him a date. Buck is doing a good job of swiping right on all the women Eddie would, even the ones who don’t fit his normal type but who he finds hot anyway. But when Buck starts typing the words, “A full wax is fine, but I prefer some hair as a landing strip,” Eddie’s got to shut this thing down.
Is Buck right? That’s not the point. If nothing else, it’s absolutely not how Eddie would ever phrase it.
He grabs Buck’s wrist, his hand tightening around it slightly more than it should. Buck doesn’t protest. He rolls his eyes and grabs the phone with his other hand. They’re on Eddie’s couch, a tight fit for two grown men, but they’ve wrestled here before. Eddie knows what to do to hold Buck down. He swings his leg over until he’s straddling Buck’s hips and tangles his other hand in Buck’s hair. He tugs on it until Buck tilts his head to look up at Eddie.
“The fuck are you doing?”
“Getting you a date.”
“I have a gift for turning off women.” Eddie steals his phone from Buck and tucks it safely in his own back pocket. Buck is too focused on him to protest. This close up, Buck’s lips look so soft. “You don’t need to do it for me.”
“It’s good to be honest about what you want.”
“That what you’re doing?” Eddie tugs on his hair again. “You sure? I don’t think you’re being honest with me, Buck.”
Buck blushes. It splashes across his face so prettily. Eddie doesn't know what to do with that thought as Buck gazes up at him. “I'm finding you a girlfriend,” Buck explains.
Buck showed up this morning to make him and Chris pancakes. He packed Chris a lunch for school. He'd given Eddie his coffee just the way he likes it and then wiped a crumb off his lips. Staring down at Buck now, Eddie’s getting an idea. “Or do you want to be my girlfriend?”
Buck goes tense under him. Bullseye. They're pressed so close together Eddie couldn't miss it if he tried. He strokes Buck’s hair, gentle now that he's gotten what he wants from Buck. If they're going to do this, he's going to have to get good at taking care of his Buck.
“Eddie,” Buck says. It's a plea. Eddie has him. He promised to have his back years ago. He's not going to let him fall now.
“I've got you, sweetheart.” He keeps stroking Buck’s hair. It's surprisingly soft. “It's okay. I'm going to treat you right. Gonna be such a good boyfriend for you.”
Buck’s lips part. Eddie takes the opportunity to steal a kiss. It's not that different from kissing a woman. But then, why would it be? Buck is his girlfriend, not his boyfriend. He settles more of his weight on Buck and changes the angle so he can press into his mouth, exploring him. Eddie knows so much of Buck’s body. But this is new territory.
Eddie loses track of how long they kiss. Buck is the one who pulls away. “You're straight.”
Sure, what the fuck, why not? Eddie thought he was straight when he woke up this morning. He expects Buck to know him better than that, since he's been learning stuff about his sexuality via Buck pointing it out for weeks now. But if Buck has a kink for the straight guy getting off on him, Eddie can be straight. “You're my girl,” he reminds Buck. “This isn't gay. Gonna let me fuck those pretty tits of yours? I've been looking.”
Eddie has, actually. He thought it was out of jealousy, but now that he's thinking about it he's never changed his own workouts to target his pecs. He's got this feeling that him being into men, and Buck specifically, is something that was incredibly obvious that he failed to pick up on. But he can unpack that later. Or never. Buck’s squirming under him.
“Eddie,” he moans.
“You're so gorgeous like this for me. You want it so bad, don't you? You'll wear a pretty dress for me and let me bend you over and fuck your pussy.”
Buck bites Eddie's lip. That feels a lot like a yes.
About forty minutes later, Eddie is firmly telling himself that he won't be asking Buck any questions when he twirls around to show off his sundress. And he's wearing makeup. Eddie doesn't even know what everything he's wearing is even called. Lipstick for sure. And eye stuff. Has he been hiding all this stuff in his drawer in Eddie’s dresser? Why here instead of in his own apartment where he could actually wear it? Eddie’s not going to sweat the small stuff in the face of Buck wearing all of that for him, though. Buck looks gorgeous. If this is a gender thing, Eddie is going to be supportive as hell. If it's just a sex thing he's going to be perpetually confused by his own reaction, but he's so hard he's tenting his sweats.
“You look beautiful,” he tells Buck. “I should wife you up.”
“You’d better,” Buck says. He's blushing. “I shaved for you.”
“Just now?”
Buck shrugs. “Thought I might get lucky.”
Eddie takes that as a cue to get a damn move on. He’s never slept with a man before, but women he knows. He puts a hand on Buck’s waist. His dress is so soft. Eddie wants to take it off of him immediately. He tilts his head as he gets into Buck’s space. Buck sways in just enough for Eddie to notice. “Yeah?” he asks. His cheeks are hot, but he doesn’t care. For Buck, he’d blush all night. “What do you want, Buck?”
Instead of answering, Buck kisses him. It’s a new enough angle for Eddie. He’s never dated anyone taller than him, for all that their height difference is minimal. He’s unlike anyone Eddie has kissed before, not because Buck is a man but because he’s Buck. The moment their lips touch, Eddie’s got a jolt of heat in his core. He never wants this to end. He wants Buck inside him, stat, or maybe to be inside of Buck. He’s not picky. Buck is gentle with him, but it sets Eddie on fire. He opens his mouth, begging for Buck to take charge and heighten the tension between them, but Buck doesn’t. He keeps his pace, slow and methodical, refusing to give Eddie what he wants. It makes Eddie’s dick harden further. He knows Buck can feel it, just like he can feel Buck’s through his dress.
Eddie pulls away. “Buck, please.”
Buck gives him a bashful smile. “Wanna fuck my tits?”
He’s almost certain he’s never wanted anything more. He’d get on his knees right now and worship Buck, but he knows how bad of an idea that is. To praise someone like a god is to distance yourself from them, and Eddie doesn’t want even an inch of space between them right now. “Keep your dress on,” he orders.
Buck leads him to his own bed. Eddie quickly realizes that the logistics of titfucking with Buck in a dress are going to be messy, so he doesn’t complain when Buck sheds it. He especially doesn’t complain when he sees what Buck is wearing underneath. Light blue lace panties that short circuit his brain and a matching bra. Buck’s stuffed it with what appear to be Eddie’s socks, but he doesn’t even care. He wants to get his hands on every inch of the skin Buck is revealing for him. Eddie carefully undoes the clasp and Buck slips the bra off of his shoulders and onto the ground.
Eddie straddles him. Buck holds his tits together, giving Eddie a space to thrust into. “You’re so gorgeous, princess.”
Buck whines and writhes under him as Eddie sets a rhythm. His thrusts are short and quick. Buck’s pecs are big, especially when he’s forcing them together. “You’ve got a perfect handful.” He cups one as best he can around Buck’s hand and thumbs his nipple. Buck’s mouth falls open.
“You want me to come on your chest? Cover your little tits?”
Eddie isn’t lasting much longer. He’s got no idea what wires got crossed in both of their brains that they ended up here, but Buck isn’t asking him to overthink right now. Eddie shuts that part of his brain down and refocuses. Nothing matters but Buck’s warm, soft skin. His inviting chest. The little noises he’s making, crescendoing into gasps. Something warm and hot hits Eddie’s lower back and ass. Buck’s come. And no wonder he’s called firehose. Eddie shivers as the come starts to dry on his back, but he doesn’t stop.
When he comes, it’s a far more reasonable amount. He coats Buck’s chest, leaving streaks. Eddie collapses into it and lets Buck hold his weight.
“I don’t want to be a woman all the time,” Buck tells him.
“I’ll do it next time,” Eddie says. He licks his own come. It’s mixed with the taste of Buck’s sweat. He wants to lick Buck from head to toe. “That was hot as shit.”
Buck pats his back once, a manly sort of thing that Buck’s never been naturally good at. He tends to turn back pats into hugs and earnest questions about the recipient’s mood. “And straight.”
Eddie laughs. Buck joins him. They stay like that, curled together and laughing, for far too long. Eddie loves it. He loves it enough that next time, when Buck holds up a pair of red lace panties and tilts his head, Eddie doesn’t pause for a second before he slides them on.