Archive of Our Own

Buck is, above all else, a social creature. A simple one, too. He doesn’t need much to achieve a baseline level of happiness— a run in the morning, someone to cook for, and good company will do. Which is why some may think it counterintuitive to move into a big house all by himself. 

It is, a little bit. But he has to learn how to be independent again, how to function away from Eddie and Chris and the routine they had built together over the past couple of months. He’s adamant on doing just that, actually. So much so that he invests in a wheelbarrow, and buys ten different types of seeds for a garden he’s barely even conceptualised yet, and also, a little optimistically, new paint for his bedroom walls. 

And then, Buck gets invaded. Though one could argue he did the invading, given the timeline. 

See, what Buck hadn’t known upon moving into his new house was its state of occupancy. Namely, that it wasn’t unoccupied. 

His attic is overrun with squirrels. Yes, squirrels. So many of them. 

Buck has no idea how he missed them the first time he did a sweep of his house, because they are everywhere. They must have amassed over some time, given the sheer amount of them. Or maybe they did move in sometime after Buck did, and just— went to town on each other, or something. Buck doesn’t know if squirrels have similar libidos to rabbits. 

“How many?” Eddie’s asking on the other line, sounding, at least, vaguely sympathetic to Buck’s plight. 

“Eddie, I honestly—” Buck peers into the attic again, gripping the ladder with one hand, his phone with the other. “Fifty, maybe?” 

He doesn’t even think he’s exaggerating, is the thing. There are… so many eyes, staring back at him through the dim light in the attic. Very slowly, Buck lowers himself again, climbing down the ladder. 

“Je-sus.” Eddie clicks his tongue. “You gotta call animal control, or something.” 

Back on solid ground, Buck runs a hand through his hair. “I did. I— I mean, I found this humane organisation that rescues rodents specifically, and they were really great, and— so, they came over this morning.” 

Which had been… insightful. They’d investigated Buck’s attic and come back down looking almost impressed. They didn’t understand how Buck hadn’t heard them until now, how their little pitter-patter footsteps hadn’t alerted Buck to the fact that he was actively being invaded. Embarrassed, he’d explained that he’s a firefighter, and the shifts are long, and most of the time he sort of just… tips himself into bed upon returning home. 

He’s dead to the world when he sleeps. And his hearing isn’t what it used to be. Tsunamis and explosions and the odd car crash will do that to you. 

The only reason he realised anything was amiss at all was because Maddie had pointed out a faint odor over coffee yesterday. 

“What’s the verdict?” 

“Two weeks,” Buck admits. “At least.” 

“No way,” Eddie says. “It can’t take two weeks to get rid of squirrels.” 

“When it’s this many…” Buck squints up at the ceiling. “Plus, they have babies. Like, totally, brand-new babies. In the— in the walls, apparently. They’re too young to move safely.” Sighing, he laments, “I bought so much peppermint oil, Eddie. A-and these big, fluorescent light bulbs. They’re supposed to, like, gently encourage the squirrels to leave, but I didn’t want to mess with the babies, you know? S-so now I just. Have a box full of peppermint oil. And light bulbs.” 

Because he’s a good friend, Eddie hums sympathetically down the line. 

“The peppermint oil was thirty-five dollars, Eddie.” 

“And the light bulbs?” 

“Twenty.” 

“Sorry, bud,” Eddie says, and Buck holds his breath. Then, like he doesn’t even have to think about it, he says, “So, when are you moving back in?” 

Shoulders sagging in relief, Buck huffs a laugh. “Tonight?” 

“I’ll tell Chris you’re cooking.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Moving back in with Eddie is, as expected, easy. Which is unfortunate. The whole point of moving out was to wean himself off of this, to deprive himself of Eddie until he could be normal about Eddie. 

Because he is not normal about Eddie. 

Or— well. He’s mostly normal about Eddie. It makes sense for him to be a little intense about him, given that he’s his best friend of almost a decade. Not to mention their shared history. It’s a lot of history. And sometimes Buck gets his wires crossed and looks at Eddie with a little too much affection, and his heart swells, something like peace and contentment settling at the base of his spine, and— 

Then he yanks himself back to reality. 

But that’s neither here nor there! 

He lives here now. In Eddie’s house. He will be living here, in Eddie’s house, for the next two weeks. 

He’s totally got this. 

The first night back at Eddie’s goes off without a hitch. He slips right back into their routine like a seal on ice. They eat dinner together, and Chris reluctantly tells him about a school assignment he’s not stoked about (Buck gets it, he’s never been particularly into advanced grammar), and before he knows it, Buck’s slipping into bed with Eddie, and they’re exchanging whispered goodnight’s like this is normal. 

It is not normal. Buck is painfully aware of that. He is in his mid-thirties, and he is sharing a bed with his best friend again. And he is going to continue doing so until his house is squirrel-free because it would be weirder if he didn’t. Demoting himself to the couch would be breaking routine. Because they shared Eddie’s bed for nearly two months before Buck moved out. 

So, Buck will suck it up and handle this like an adult. Two weeks is nothing compared to two months. Two weeks is a whole twenty-five percent less than two months, even.

They’re off-shift the next day too, which is nice. In the morning, Buck slips out of bed and quietly turns Eddie’s alarm off. 

He wakes Chris at a little before seven, luring him into the kitchen with the promise of an extra cheesy omelette. 

After breakfast, before grabbing his car keys, Buck scribbles a note for Eddie letting him know he’s driving Chris to school, sneaking back into his bedroom to put it on the bedside table. Hopelessly fond, he watches Eddie’s sleeping face for a long moment, eyelashes fanning over his lax face. 

When Chris clicks his crutches together impatiently in the hall, Buck snaps out of it. 

Drop-off goes well, and although Buck is very much pretending he’s not, he’s definitely basking a little in being back in the Diaz-bubble. 

He picks groceries up on the way back hom— to Eddie’s house, having noted the utter lack of protein in Eddie’s fridge this morning. Which simply won’t do. 

Whistling a soft tune, he re-enters Eddie’s house and toes off his shoes by the door, holding both grocery bags in one hand. The house smells like coffee, which means Eddie’s up. 

Yay! says Buck’s heart. 

Yay, with a normal amount of enthusiasm, Buck reminds the pesky organ. 

His phone rings just as he’s started down the hall, and he fumbles it out of his pocket, frowning at the number. 

“Go for Buck,” he says, pressing the phone to his ear as he meanders down the hall. 

“They’re in the walls,” a lady says, and Buck freezes in his tracks. 

“Pardon?” 

“The squirrels,” the lady says, and Buck remembers that the humane rodent society was due to visit his house this morning, without him present. “Sorry, Mr. Buckley. I should have led with that. We’ve confirmed the squirrels have burrowed into your walls, which makes extraction a little tricky.” 

“O-oh.” Buck’s stomach drops. “Um. How complicated?” 

“It depends,” the lady says apologetically. “But we think we can do it without damaging anything. Given the baby situation, we’re trying to move as many of the adult and adolescent squirrels out as we can right away. Then we’ll hone in on the little families, once the kits are old enough.” 

“Okay. So, two weeks is…?” 

“Ambitious,” she says. “But a month should do. Is that okay?” 

“No,” Buck says. “I– I mean, yes. Sorry. That’s fine.” 

“Right,” she says. “We apologise for the inconvenience, Mr. Buckley. Usually, it wouldn’t take this long.” 

“It’s fine,” Buck assures her. “Seriously. I’d rather it took a little longer than risk hurting the babies.” 

“Us too,” she agrees, smile in her voice. “We’ll call you with updates. Feel free to call us, too, of course. We are at your disposal. And the squirrels.” 

Weakly, Buck cracks a smile. “Yeah. Thanks.” 

The line goes dead. Biting the inside of his cheek, Buck pockets his phone. 

Maybe he should ask Maddie about the availability of her guest room. Staying here for a month sounds… 

Lovely. It sounds wonderful. 

God, Buck has got to leave. 

Heaving a sigh, Buck starts back down the hall. 

He notes, almost absentmindedly, that the bathroom door is open. He steps around it at the exact same moment that Eddie steps out of it, and— 

He’s naked. 

He’s naked. 

Buck makes a strangled noise, not unlike the kind a dying animal would make, and trips over himself as he takes a very big step back. His back collides with the wall, fingers tightening around the grocery bags, and Eddie is still naked. 

Naked. 

Naked and afraid, probably, given the way he jumps, knocking his shoulder into the doorway. 

His naked shoulder. Which happens to be connected to the rest of him, which is also, as previously stated, naked. 

Buck remains stock-still, eyes roaming over Eddie’s body, cataloguing him like he’s some sort of specimen. He’s damp, freshly showered. Hair dripping, eyes wild with panic, mouth parted. His thighs are— wow. They’re something to behold, alright. Thick and, oh, would you look at that, attached to his torso. And his— 

Naked dick. Which is pink and soft and big, its delicate foreskin rolled over the head. 

Buck cannot look away. Buck is going to hell. 

“Buck,” Eddie says loudly, scrambling to grab a towel off a hook. He wraps it hastily around his waist, face flushing pink. In abject horror, Buck manages to steer his eyes upward in time to watch Eddie curl his finger, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

Glasses. 

Eddie wears glasses now? 

“You’re wearing glasses,” Buck wheezes. 

Tightly, Eddie says, “Yep.” 

“Since when do you wear glasses,” Buck says, before realising he should probably make that sound like a question. Sucking in a breath, he tries again: “Since when do you wear glasses?” 

“Since a week ago,” Eddie says. He’s gripping the towel around his waist like he has reason to believe it might flee. “They’re, uh. They’re reading glasses.” 

“That’s— cool,” Buck says lamely. He shuts his eyes and is at once treated to the image of Eddie’s dick, superimposed on the back of his eyelids. 

Great. 

That’s great. 

“Yep,” Eddie says again. 

“Sorry for—” Buck opens his eyes again, gaze pinging to Eddie’s waist immediately. He vows to pluck his eyes out of his skull at the earliest convenience. “I’m just gonna— kitchen. Groceries.” 

“Yeah. Kitchen,” Eddie says too quickly. 

Beating a hasty retreat, Buck stumbles down the hall and into the kitchen. 

Mercifully alone, he takes a very deep breath. 

Okay, so. So. So. Being normal about Eddie at this very moment might be a little hard. Buck might be a little hard. Okay, no— he’s not— he didn’t pop a boner over catching Eddie with his pants down. Off, whatever. He’s not a pervert. It just… It wouldn’t take a lot to get there, is all. A few tugs to reach half-mast. One more tug to reach full-on-erection levels of critical arousal. 

But Buck isn’t a weirdo. He’s not going to jerk off over his best friend. Ever. 

So, very strategically, Buck devotes the rest of the morning to reorganising the fridge. About thirty minutes into doing this, Eddie shuffles into the kitchen, dressed now. Dressed and unafraid. It’s crazy, actually, how confident Eddie is fully-clothed. The correlation between nakedness and real animal fear is undeniable. 

Eddie asks Buck about lunch, voice stilted and small, and Buck immediately feels bad. He makes an effort to relax his shoulders, keeping his voice even as he throws a joke over his shoulder. And then, like nothing had happened, Eddie jokes back. 

See? Naked-Eddie was just a setback. 

He’s totally got this.

Dinner later that night is nice. Chris had helped Buck cook, chopping vegetables up while manning the speaker, which means they’d both been jamming exclusively to Billy Joel. 

Fittingly, Moving Out had started playing around the time Buck’s mind drifted the squirrels in his attic, and as dire as the whole situation is, he’d caught himself biting back a smile. 

He does, however, have another setback. In the shower, of all places. Stepping under the spray reminds him of this morning, of how damp Eddie had been, how pink he’d gone when Buck had run into him. 

And Buck feels bad about it. Genuinely. Because, sure, he’s seen Eddie naked before. After the shooting, when he’d needed extra support getting changed and showered, and at work, all the time. It comes with the job. But this — catching Eddie unawares — is different. He hadn’t been prepared for Buck to see him, so he’d been naked in a new way. A more vulnerable way.

The most logical thing to do is to apologise. Maybe do something nice for Eddie, like treating him to an overpriced coffee the next time they’re both out. 

It’s the kind thing to do, Buck reasons as he ducks into Eddie’s bedroom, towel hanging low on his hips. Depositing the towel on the bed, he quickly tugs on a pair of boxers, grabbing a sleep-shirt out of Eddie’s drawer. 

And then, gripping the shirt, he pauses. 

Sure, he could do something nice for Eddie. But he could also… balance the scales, a little. Even the playing field. It’s only fair, really. He doesn’t want Eddie to agonise over being caught naked in his own home. Buck is the imposter here, so Buck should suffer the same fate as him. 

He drops the shirt, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. Tilting his head, he listens to Eddie close the dishwasher in the kitchen and click off the kitchen light, footsteps growing closer and closer. 

Showtime. 

Buck yanks his boxers down and stands there, in Eddie’s room, nakedly. 

…What the fuck is he doing? 

Is his solution to accidentally catching an eyeful of Eddie’s dick to flash him back? 

Stomach swooping, Buck scrambles to pick his briefs back off the floor. At the same moment, the bedroom door cracks open. 

He hears Eddie’s sharp inhale, head snapping up in time to watch Eddie scramble for the light switch, plunging them into darkness. 

Fantastic. Now they’re staring at each other in the dark. And Buck’s dick is still out. 

Alright. Buck can work with this. 

“Hey, man,” Buck says, feigning nonchalance. He pulls his briefs the rest of the way up slowly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

This is a battlefield. There is no room for modesty.  

An incredulous giggle slips past Eddie’s lips. “Were, uh. Were you planning on sleeping naked?” 

“Uh, n-no,” Buck says. He snatches the shirt off the bed, holding it up to Eddie like a moron. He switches gears, tossing it back into the drawer instead. “No, I think I just….” He scrambles for an excuse. “I got used to sleeping alone. At my house. After I moved.” 

It’s a blatant lie. Buck sucks at sleeping alone, and Eddie knows this because Eddie is his best friend. He’s told Eddie almost every embarrassing secret he has. 

Mercifully, Eddie doesn’t call him out. Instead, he hums, walking over to his side of the bed. Pulling the covers back, he asks, “You sleep naked when you’re alone?” 

“Yeah,” Buck says. This, at least, is not a lie. “Yeah, I— I do. Good air-circulation’s important, Eddie.” 

It’s hard to tell in the dark, but Buck thinks Eddie’s raising his eyebrows at him. 

“You want me to sleep naked too, or something?” 

“I— no.” Buck flounders, neck heating. “I didn’t mean now. I meant— in general. Naked is good.” 

Naked is good? 

“Right,” Eddie says, coughing. “Yeah. Naked is good.”  

“It is,” Buck says, crawling into bed. He rolls so his back is to Eddie. Staring at the wall he says, “Goodnight.” 

The sheets rustle as Eddie climbs into bed too, silent as a mouse. He fluffs his pillow before settling in, the way he does most nights. Only then, soft and fond, does he say, “Goodnight.”

Work is a nice, dick-free reprieve. 

They carpool to the station, dropping Chris off at school on the way, just like old times. Neither of them bring up the— incident. Incidents, really, given that it’s happened twice. Though only one of those incidents was premeditated. So. 

Whatever. Work is good, because work gives Buck something else to focus on. He kills a few hours getting a stew ready for the team, scrubs the floors, runs through his gym routine twice— which leaves him satisfied and achy. 

He’s not avoiding Eddie. He’s not. Eddie just so happens to be… elsewhere. 

The entire team gets almost a whole night’s worth of sleep before the tones go off at around 5am. Together, they pile into the engine and zoom toward a bungalow. 

A bungalow that, as it turns out, is doing its best to imitate the arctic. 

Apparently, several (twelve, which is too many in Buck’s opinion) ice makers had gone haywire at some point during the night, and the young couple living in the bungalow had both slipped on the icy floor when they got up to investigate. The girlfriend was fine, but the boyfriend had a possible fracture in his ankle and a couple of bruised ribs. 

Once they’ve loaded the boyfriend into the ambulance, Chim sighs, world-weary. 

“Shoulda called the icefighters,” he says, receiving four very tired looks from four very tired firefighters. 

Half-awake, Buck makes his way back to the engine. He yawns,  completely misses the curb, and stumbles off of it. Then, like a fucking cartoon, he yelps and takes a nosedive, right into a kiddie pool situated in the neighbour’s garden. 

Gasping, he scrambles to get out, and falls on his ass again. Right back into the pool. 

Ravi, at least, presses a hand over his mouth to muffle his snickering. Hen and Chim, he expected to guffaw. Which they’re doing. 

Eddie, however — wonderful, sweet Eddie — trots over to Buck, amusement twinkling in his eyes. 

“Come on, bud,” he says, reaching for Buck. 

Grateful and sopping wet, Buck lifts his arm. 

Their hands clasp, and Eddie’s mouth ticks up. “Good form, by the way. Were you going for a swan-dive?” 

Buck yanks Eddie into the pool with him. 

Eddie lands on top of him with an affronted yell, squirming as they both roll out of the pool and onto the grass. 

Eddie gapes at him, and Buck can’t help but crack up. He clutches his stomach, laughing too loudly, for 5:45am. It’s worth it, though, when Eddie starts to smile, devolving into laughter a moment later. 

They sit there in the grass, giggling like school children, and Buck thinks he probably has the best job in the world. 

Chuckles petering out, Buck’s eyes drift to the kiddie pool. 

It really is a tiny pool. It’s definitely not made to fit two firefighters. Still, Buck’s tempted to buy one, just in case the opportunity arises to recreate this. 

“Buckley, Diaz,” Chim says, exasperated. “Up you get.” 

The ride back to the station is, unsurprisingly, wet and cold. Shivering, Eddie knocks his knee into Buck’s, smiling softly at him. He looks beautiful like this, painted by the early morning sun. Even drenched, hair flat against his forehead, he’s gorgeous. Objectively, of course. 

Back at the station, Chim shoos Buck and Eddie toward the showers. Eddie steps aside to call Carla first, checking in on school drop-off, so Buck heads to the showers alone. 

Only to find that the showers, mysteriously, are out of order. 

All but one, that is. The one furthest to the left, which Buck’s always liked the best anyway. 

He’ll just be quick, he decides, and Eddie can shower after him. 

He peels his wet uniform off, wrinkling his nose at the pile. He’ll have to throw them into the washing machine after this. 

The shower stall is compact and outfitted with a soap dispenser. Chim once joked about the showers being small so as to dissuade firefighters from showering together, which Buck, in his probie year, had taken literally. 

Which is why he jumps out of his skin when the shower curtain rustles, and Eddie’s head pokes inside. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, smiling. 

“Uh.” Buck blinks, subtly lifting his leg to hide his manhood. “Hey?” 

“Mind if I join you?” 

What. 

Maybe Buck’s concussed. Maybe taking a splash in a kiddie pool was enough to incapacitate him. Man, that’s kind of tragic. Surviving a tsunami only to be bested by a kiddie pool… not a great legacy. 

“Sure,” Buck hears himself say. 

Oh, God. 

Eddie twitches the curtain to the side and steps into the stall with Buck, shivering visibly. He's already naked. Again. Like Buck. They're both naked, this time at the same time. Which isn’t even uncommon! They shower together all the time! Or— not together. They shower in separate stalls, but then they get changed in the same locker room, and there they are often naked at the same time. Briefly. 

This is not brief. 

Buck takes a bumbling step back, pressing himself to the wall as Eddie steps under the spray. 

Wrinkling his nose, Eddie adjusts the knob, turning up the heat. 

With a slack jaw, Buck watches Eddie tilt his head into the spray, sweeping his hand through his hair. The water cascades over the rippling muscle of his back in rivulets, over the impressive swell of his ass and— 

Buck almost whimpers. 

Shaking his head like a dog, Eddie swipes at his eyes and frowns at Buck. “You okay, bud?” 

Buck slams his eyes shut. 

He’s a masochist. He must be. Why else is he still standing here in a tiny shower stall with his beautiful, sexy, kind best friend? A normal man wouldn’t indulge like this. A normal man would’ve told Eddie to wait his turn. 

“Good,” Buck manages, eyes shut. “I’m good.” 

A long second ticks by. Then– 

“Does my body scare you, or something?” 

Buck’s eyes fly open. “No! No, Eddie, that’s—” 

His mouth snaps shut when he catches the amused glint in Eddie’s eyes. 

Huffing, he says, “You’re messing with me.” 

Eddie purses his lips around a smile. “Little bit.” Then, reaching for the soap dispenser, he adds, “But, uh. If this makes you uncomfortable…” 

“N-no. No, it’s— I’m normal.” Sucking in a breath, Buck corrects, “It’s normal. This. This is normal. The situation.” 

Eddie regards him with a look not unlike the kind he levelled at the patient they had last week, who had tried to swallow an entire cucumber in one go. 

“Naked is good,” Buck adds. 

Eddie barks a laugh. “Right.” 

“Eddie,” Buck despairs. 

His best friend, the bastard, just laughs again. 

“Come on,” Eddie says, reaching for Buck’s limp hand. He guides it to the soap dispenser, squirting a blob into Buck’s palm. “Soap up, big boy.” 

And— no. 

No, no, no. 

Buck feels it happen and knows at once that he can’t do anything to stop it. He’s standing here, nakedly, and Eddie is also standing here, nakedly, and he called him big boy, and Buck’s cock— 

It twitches. 

Buck looks down. It’s like watching a train collision, observing the way his cock slowly, horribly, fattens up. 

Without thinking, Buck bodily moves Eddie out of the way and steps back under the spray, turning his back to Eddie. 

Eddie snorts, because he is unaware of Buck’s predicament. “Your turn?” 

“Mhm,” Buck manages, voice tight and high, reckoning with the fact that he is growing erect. 

“Okay, then,” Eddie says. He slaps Buck on the back, and Buck’s cock jolts. “I’ll see you out there?” 

“Y-yeah,” Buck says. “I’ll just be a minute.” 

He pivots as Eddie maneuvers out of the shower, making sure to keep his back to him the entire time. He listens to Eddie tug the shower curtain back into place and only then, casting a quick look over his shoulder, does Buck wrap a hand around himself. 

He tugs at his dick fast and hard because he’s on a time crunch now, breath punching out of him. This is fine, he tells himself. He’s just— he’s not jerking off over Eddie, he’s jerking off because of him. It’s different. 

Tightening his fist, he fumbles to steady himself on the wall with his free hand. 

Fuck, it feels good. He’s leaking, arousal pooling in his gut as he pants, eyes half-lidded. 

Big boy, Eddie had called him. His mind, because it is no friend of his, takes that and runs with it. It spins a scenario for him, a fantasy in which Eddie shoves him up against the wall and muffles Buck’s surprised yelp with his mouth. A fantasy in which Eddie sinks to his knees and chokes himself on Buck’s cock, pulling back to rasp: You’re a big boy, huh? 

A pathetic, breathy moan slips past Buck’s mouth, fist flying now. The shlick-shlick-shlick noise is only barely quieter than the shower spray. Because he’s a problem solver, Buck pivots, focusing on stroking just the head. 

God, he’s going to come. He’s going to come all over the shower wall at work. 

Exhaling shakily, Buck lets his eyes fall shut and pictures Eddie’s shoulder blades, the way they shift when he moves. Fuck. He imagines digging his thumbs into Eddie’s back dimples, imagines sliding his cock between Eddie’s thighs, imagines—  

“Buck?” Eddie calls out. 

Shit. 

“Y-yeah?” Buck calls back, hand still moving. He can’t stop now, he’s so close.

“I made you some coffee, if you want. Decaf.” 

“Fuck— um, thanks,” Buck stumbles over his words, thumb sliding over the glistening head of his cock. 

“You coming?” 

Buck’s eyes roll back, cock hardening in his fist. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, biting down hard to stifle a whimper. Shakily, he manages, “Yeah, I’m— I’m coming.”  

And he does. His orgasm hits him like a truck, rolling through him like thunder as he paints the wall in come. He’s pulsing, thighs trembling, vision fraying at the edges. 

Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck— 

He sucks in a sharp inhale, tearing his hand away from himself, watching his own cock bob as it dribbles. 

Oh, fuck, Buck thinks again, miserable. He strains to hear anything over the shower spray, catching the faint echo of Eddie shuffling on his feet. 

A terrible, tense silence stretches between them. 

Eddie clears his throat. “You good?” 

Buck is a terrible person. “I’m good.” 

Another silence. 

“Did it feel good?” 

Buck freezes. 

He knows. Oh, God, Eddie totally knows he just got off. In the shower. At work. With Eddie in the same room. Knowingly. 

Fuck, Buck is— he’s going to need to transfer stations, for real this time. He needs to get dressed and march into Chim’s office and declare himself unfit, and it’s going to suck, but it’s truly his only option. 

“U-uh. What?” 

“The shower,” Eddie clarifies, tone— amused? “Did it feel good? Hot enough?” 

“Yeah, I—” Buck flounders helplessly. “Yes.” 

“Nice,” Eddie says, like that’s… like that’s it. Like he doesn’t care. Maybe he doesn’t know? “Coffee’s waiting for you, bud.” 

“Okay,” Buck says. 

Right. Okay. If Eddie’s choosing not to acknowledge this, Buck can follow his lead. He will pretend with all his might that what happened here today did not, in fact, happen. He can do that. He basically majored in Delusion & Its Benefits in his early twenties. 

It’s fine. He has a plan.

Buck talks about The Dancing Plague of 1518 the entire drive home. It’s too early in the morning for it, but he has to commit. Chris won’t be back from school until this afternoon, so there will be nothing to distract from the elephant in the room. The naked elephant in the room. The naked elephant with a boner. 

There is only so much one can say about a dancing epidemic, though. So, strategically, Buck exiles himself to the garden approximately three minutes after pulling into the driveway. He’s going to weed Eddie’s garden. He’s going to do it slowly and methodically, and he’s going to Google weeds and spend at least thirty minutes reading about bermudagrass. 

And he does. Because he’s a man with a plan, and he’s not afraid of committing when the alternative is being in Eddie Diaz’s presence. 

He wonders, as he yanks two weeds out at once, how things spiralled this far out of control. 

Eventually, Buck has to throw in the towel. He’s sore and sweaty, lunch having come and gone. Eddie had even poked his head out of the back door and offered him a sandwich, and Buck, like a caveman, had simply grunted. 

No, Eddie, he’d wanted to say. I don’t want a sandwich during my Weed Punishment. I am luxuriating in shame. Thanks, though. 

Wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his hand, he steps back into the kitchen. He’s halfway out of his shoes when something clatters, and he looks up. 

Oh. 

Eddie isn’t wearing a shirt but he is wearing sweatpants, which is better than being naked. But— sweatpants. He’s wearing grey sweatpants, which might actually be worse. And, apparently, he’s going commando. 

Psychological warfare, Buck thinks faintly. That’s what this is. 

“Buck,” Eddie says, catching his eye. He’s smiling, squinting through the slice of afternoon sun bathing the kitchen in a warm, golden light. 

Buck smiles back reflexively. It’s the done thing. If Eddie smiles, Buck smiles. His gaze trips down, though, landing on Eddie’s crotch. His crotch, and the dick barely hidden beneath the sweatpants, tucked against Eddie’s left leg. 

His mouth pools with saliva. He’s staring at Eddie’s dick-thighs-stomach-biceps— ogling him with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

The smile grows more panicked. 

Wow. Through the thin material of the sweatpants, he can almost see the crown of Eddie’s head. That’s. Neat. It’s neat. 

Eddie clears his throat, and Buck’s gaze snaps back up to his face. 

“Um.” Buck tries to school his expression. Fails. He flaps his hands like a penguin. Like one half of the gay penguin couple at the zoo. He may as well do a Buckflip, for all the sense he’s making. “You, um. You picking up Chris soon?” 

“Karen’s picking him up,” Eddie informs him, wiping his hands on his evil sweatpants. “Denny’s got some new video game he wants to show him.” 

“Oh.” Dread, icy and spiky, pools in Buck’s stomach. “So, later?” 

“Nope.” Eddie pops the p, stretching to slide a mug into a cabinet before dropping back on the heels of his feet. His ass bounces. Buck almost blacks out. “He’s sleeping over.” 

“Right,” Buck says weakly. 

This is only fair, Buck tells himself. The Weed Punishment wasn’t enough. I need to suffer harder. 

“Wanna take a nap?” Eddie suggests, leaning against the counter. He looks unfairly good like this, hair free from gel, brown eyes happy and sparkling. The sight of him genuinely makes Buck’s heart ache. Maybe he should look at his dick instead. “I can prep for dinner.” 

“Yeah,” Buck exhales, nodding too fast. “I’ll— yeah. Wake me before six?” 

Eddie smiles. “You got it, bud.”

Staying true to his word, Eddie wakes Buck at six on the dot. He probably should have napped when they first got back from work this morning, but— well. He’d been wired. For reasons. Elephant-reasons. 

They spent the evening on the couch, watching a medical show Eddie’s taken to hate-watching. It’s inaccurate and bad, Eddie claims. Still, Buck spots his bottom lip trembling when the main couple on screen finally kiss. 

He doesn’t point it out. He’s known Eddie Diaz is a secret romantic since he met him. 

Buck volunteers to clean the kitchen, and Eddie smiles at him gratefully, shuffling into the bathroom. 

Just as he slides the last container into the fridge, his phone buzzes on the table. 

Checking the Caller ID, he smiles and picks up. 

“Hey, Mads.” 

“Hey,” Maddie says, smile in her voice. “How goes the great squirrel-evacuation of 2025?” 

Buck laughs through a groan, leaning against the counter. “It’s, um. It’s going.” 

“That bad?” 

“No, just—” Buck sighs. He casts a look at the doorway, lowering his voice. “It’s weird. Being back at Eddie’s. I feel like—” 

He’s not sure how to articulate the feeling. It’s not new, exactly. But it has grown more… potent. Probably because he’d finally started to find his footing, living alone, and then been yanked right back into Eddie’s orbit. How does he explain to Maddie that he’s exactly where he wants to be, and that that’s why he has to leave? 

Voice soft, Maddie prompts, “You feel like…?” 

“I feel like I’m regressing,” Buck admits. “Which, you know, I know I’m not. Logically. My house is still my house, and Eddie’s just helping me out. I guess I just… I was ready. For a fresh start.” 

On the other line, Maddie stays silent. Buck knows she’s reading between the lines because she knows him. She knows him the same way Eddie knows him, which is to say that she refuses to indulge in his bullshit. 

Her bullshit detector must not be pinging, though, because she says, “I get it.” 

“Yeah?”

“I do, Ev,” she assures him. “But I also think… Look, I know it’s not my place, but maybe this is a good thing? Confronting him?” 

“I— Mads, I don’t need to confront him,” Buck protests. “He didn’t do anything—” 

“Confront your feelings, then,” Maddie interrupts smoothly. 

“I—” Buck deflates. She’s not wrong, is the thing. There are definitely… feelings involved. Concerning Eddie. And Buck. Buck’s feelings. For Eddie. But that’s the crux of it, that’s the naked elephant. And he’s on a strict no-acknowledging-the-naked-elephant regime right now. So— “Probably. But I don’t think I can do that. Not— not this close to him. You know?” 

“Okay,” Maddie says, because she’s kind, and she already knows he’s a disaster. “But the option is there, right? To talk to him?” 

Buck makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Honestly? No. I need to get over it alone.” 

“Him, you mean?” 

Buck shuts his eyes. 

It wouldn’t be so crazy, she had said. 

It really wouldn’t, he thinks now, mournfully. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Him.” 

“Is it so bad?” 

“What, talking to him?” 

“Living with him.” 

“I mean.” Buck scrubs a hand down his face. “My house got invaded by squirrels, I got dunked in a kiddie pool, and I walked in on Eddie n-naked, so, yeah. Sort of.” 

“You— oh,” Maddie says faintly. 

“It’s kind of bad.” 

“That…” Maddie sighs, conceding, “Yeah, okay. That’s tough.”

“It’s whatever.” Eyes flickering to the doorway again, Buck says, “Hey, um. Hug the kids for me? I’ve gotta get ready for bed, I think.” 

“Will do,” Maddie promises. “Call me tomorrow?” 

“Will do,” Buck echoes, smiling tiredly. “Love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

Once the line beeps, Buck deflates like a party balloon. 

Exhaustion tugging at him, he navigates down the hallway, hesitating in front of the bathroom. The door is still closed, but he really does want to get ready for bed. 

He knocks. 

“C’m’in,” Eddie mumbles. 

Buck cracks the door open, locking eyes with Eddie in the mirror. He’s brushing his teeth, which is normal. He’s smiling around the toothbrush, which is also normal. 

He’s also naked. 

Again. 

Resisting the urge to smack his head into the wall and, like, die, Buck opens his mouth. 

His gaze slips low. 

It’s actually kind of bizarre, how nice Eddie’s ass is. Full and bouncy and— squeezable. Probably. Buck wouldn’t know, because Buck’s never squeezed Eddie’s ass. And— that right there is the back of his thighs, the ones he imagined himself fucking. Fantastic. Great stuff. 

“Take a picture,” Eddie says around his toothbrush. “It’ll last longer.” 

“H-ha,” Buck laughs, panicked. It sounds more like a yelp. “Ha, y– no. Ha.” 

Buck tries really, really hard not to look down again, to no avail. His eyes dart to Eddie’s ass approximately fifty-six times, and he flushes so hard he gets dizzy. 

Jesus Christ. 

“Y-you, um, you brush your teeth naked now?” Buck asks, approaching the sink haltingly. 

Eddie shrugs, spitting into the sink. “Was gonna shower.” 

Buck fumbles for his own toothbrush, squirting three times the amount of toothpaste needed onto it. He sticks it in his mouth and rolls the toothpaste around his mouth, biting down on the toothbrush. 

Eddie arches an eyebrow at him in the mirror. 

Buck swallows the toothpaste. The glob slides down his throat thickly. 

It’s disgusting. It's penance. 

Bristles brushing over his molars, Buck refocuses on the task at hand. He’s brushed his teeth so many times before. Around 25,500 times, if his maths is correct. It’s probably not, given that he’s vaguely aroused and also in the presence of Eddie who is naked. 

His eyes flicker to Eddie again, slipping down the length of his tan body. He exhales an embarrassingly horny sigh at the sight of his dick, nestled between his legs. 

And then— 

The dick twitches. Undeniably. It waves hello at Buck, and Buck freezes. 

He looks back up at Eddie, who— he’s blushing. His cheeks are pink, and he’s really, really focusing on holding his toothbrush under the sink. He’s waterboarding his toothbrush, and his dick just twitched, and he’s— “W-was, um,” Buck starts, voice hoarse. 

Was that because of me? 

He can’t ask that. God. He cannot ask Eddie that. 

He shuts his mouth with a click. “Nevermind.” 

Eddie clears his throat, but says nothing. He’s not meeting Buck’s gaze in the mirror now, barely checking to see that he’s situated his toothbrush securely in the cup on the sink. He turns, as though to skirt around Buck and into the shower, when his arm brushes Buck’s and a small noise slips out of his mouth. 

“Fuck, okay,” bursts out of Buck. Eddie jolts, eyes snapping to Buck’s. “I— Eddie, I need to— if I’m way off base, just— just punch me or something, but are you—?” 

Eddie swallows, blush spreading down to his chest. His cock, which Buck sneaks a glance at, twitches again. “Am I what?” 

“I— I don’t know,” Buck manages. He wants to shake him. He wants to drop to his knees. “Into this? Into being naked?” 

Another dick twitch. 

“Eddie.” 

“Buck.” 

Buck groans, tipping his head back. This is the most confusing bathroom encounter he’s ever had, he’s sure of it. Except for Michigan, maybe, with the baby moose, and the— but that doesn’t count. That was a wildlife encounter. This is an Eddie encounter. In the bathroom. 

“Buck,” Eddie repeats, softer now. 

Buck tips his head back to look at him. 

Like this, facing Buck, Eddie looks vulnerable. He’s breathing unsteadily, eyebrows furrowing the way they do when he’s trying to make a decision. 

And then, tongue darting out to wet his lips, Eddie says, “I’m gonna jerk off.” 

Buck squeaks. “What?” 

“You can watch,” Eddie tells him. His voice falters, but his eyes remain locked on Buck’s. 

“I— yeah,” Buck agrees, dizzy. “I’ll do— okay.” 

And then Eddie licks his palm. He lowers his hand, wrapping his capable fingers around himself, squeezing around the girth. Eyelids fluttering, he gives himself a slow tug, and Buck might be having a stroke. That is a thing that might be happening right now. 

Buck gets a front row seat to Eddie teasing himself from half-mast to fully erect. It happens so fast. And he’s staring at Buck the whole time, stroking himself almost languidly. 

A breath punches out of Buck when Eddie rolls his foreskin back, revealing the pink, glistening head beneath it. He swipes his thumb into the slit, summoning a drop of pre-come. 

Moaning softly, Eddie grips the sink. 

“F-fuck, Eddie,” Buck exhales. He’s buzzing. His entire body is a livewire. “Can I touch you? Please. Please, can I—” 

“Yeah.” Eddie lets go of himself, like he was just waiting for Buck to ask. “Yeah, you can touch me.” 

So, Buck does. 

Eddie is hot in his hand, and rock hard. 

“Fuck,” Buck rasps. Eddie’s cock pulses. 

“Stroke it,” Eddie requests, breath quivering. 

Nervously, Buck does. Up, and down, heart pounding in his chest. 

“Tight— tighter,” Eddie pants, and Buck obliges. At once, Eddie’s breathing speeds up. He tips forward, hands finding Buck’s waist as he ducks forward, hips twitching into Buck’s fist. 

“You look—” Buck swallows, mouth pooling with saliva. “Eddie, you look so fucking good.” 

Eddie moans, breath hot against Buck’s shoulder. 

“Eddie,” Buck breathes. “This is fucking crazy.” 

A ragged laugh spills from Eddie’s lips. “It’s fair— fuck, baby. It’s fair game. You did this first.” 

“What?” Buck asks, baby, baby, baby echoing in his head. 

“At work,” Eddie pants. “You touched yourself. Right?” 

“I did.” 

It’s a crazy admission. For half a second, Buck considers that Eddie may have set him up to get him to admit it. Only, that’s crazy. Eddie wouldn’t stoop to handjob-for-information levels of extortion. Because he’s normal. 

Unlike Buck. 

“Buck.” 

Buck blinks. Eddie’s face is really close. He smells like toothpaste. 

“Hi.” 

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Kiss me?” 

The words punch through Buck like a hammer punching through a wall. 

He doesn’t even think, now, tipping himself forward to slot his mouth against Eddie’s. And— fuck. Eddie licks into his mouth immediately, like he’s desperate to taste him, pushing closer. Buck definitely is. He kisses back eagerly, exhaling shakily through his nose. 

This, he thinks, might be the best moment of his life. 

He’s kissing Eddie. He’s kissing Eddie. 

And Eddie’s wet now, tip leaking enough to smooth the glide of each stroke. The noise is what gets Buck— slick and dirty, and all for him. Because of him. He focuses hard on keeping his fist tight around Eddie— though it’s not too difficult, coordinating kissing and stroking Eddie’s dick simultaneously. 

When Eddie groans, Buck speeds up his hand, licking into his mouth. 

Eddie’s breath hitches, tightening his hold on Buck’s waist. 

“Yeah?” Buck breathes into his mouth. “Feel good?” 

In his arms, Eddie locks up. 

The next moment, Buck feels it— feels the wetness spread over his hand, feels the warm splashes of come hitting his stomach. Eddie shudders out a high-pitched moan — almost a whine — lips ghosting over Buck’s. 

It’s the hottest thing that’s ever happened. Ever. 

Buck doesn’t even know what to do. He’s in a state of shock. 

He just made Eddie come. He orgasmed. In the bathroom, with Buck. Because he wanted to. 

“Your—” Eddie heaves a breath, flickering his dark, hungry eyes between Buck’s. “Your turn?” 

Buck looks down at himself, swallowing at the sight of his own very visible boner, straining against his sweatpants. 

Frenzied, Eddie pulls at Buck’s waistband. “Buck, can I—” 

“Fuck, y-yeah, Eddie, touch—” 

Eddie pulls him out, hard and leaking, and wraps his fingers around him. 

It feels— holy shit. Eddie’s hand is warm, squeezing him around the base. Abruptly, Buck realises this is going to end very quickly. Like. Very, very quickly. 

Eddie starts up a rhythm immediately, not easing him into it. His fist is just tight enough, palming the head of his cock on every other upstroke, like a pro. All at once, Buck loses his grasp on the world around him. On anything that isn’t Eddie, and his hand on Buck’s cock. 

“You’re so big,” Eddie murmurs, and Buck’s cock hardens in his hand. 

“Eddie,” Buck whimpers. “Eddie, you’re so—” 

Kissing his slack mouth, Eddie murmurs, “What am I?” 

“Hot,” Buck manages. “H-hot, and sexy, and your— your fucking ass, Eddie.” 

“You look at my ass a lot?” 

Buck moans, flushing with embarrassment. 

“It’s okay,” Eddie breathes. “I want you to look. Wanted to see if I could—” he squeezes Buck. “Wanted to see if I could get you hard.” 

“Mission— mission accomplished,” Buck gasps, shock and arousal shooting an electrical pulse up his spine. “I— I can’t help it, Eddie, you’re so fucking hot. You’re gorgeous, Eddie, I— fuck—” 

Eddie speeds his hand up, pulling Buck close to lick into his mouth, and Buck’s done for. 

Whimpering pitifully into his mouth, Buck gives in. Pleasure shoots through him as he pulses in Eddie’s fist, face slackening. He shoots off in Eddie’s fist, his own hand flying down, clumsily trying to save Eddie from being, you know, an unwilling canvas for Buck’s ropes of come, but Eddie bats him away. 

And Buck keeps coming. Eyelids heavy, he peers down between them as another pulse of come hits Eddie’s naked stomach. 

Eddie looks starry-eyed. “Whoa.” 

“I know it’s— a lot,” Buck pants, flushing. He angles his hips away, oversensitive now, and Eddie lets go of him. 

Then, biting his lip, Eddie lifts his come-covered hand and— licks it. He sticks two fingers in his mouth and sucks. 

“Oh my God,” Buck says faintly. 

Swallowing around the digits, Eddie blushes. He drops his hand again, tongue darting out to lick up the dollop of come on his bottom lip. 

“Sorry,” Eddie says. 

“N-no, I—” Buck exhales shakily. He can’t believe this is his life. “My dick. You’re gonna— my dick. I can’t get hard right now. Again. It’ll hurt.” 

Eddie’s eyes flicker down in time to catch Buck’s dick valiantly trying to fill out again. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Nervously, Buck shuffles. “S-so, um. What now?” 

Eddie blinks at him. “Shower? Then Bed?” 

Buck laughs anxiously. “Yeah, but— us. Us, what happens with. Us.” 

“Oh.” Eddie flickers his eyes between Buck’s, realisation dawning on his face. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

Eddie smiles, tucking his hand under Buck’s shirt, smoothing over his fever-hot skin. “I, uh… Well, I was thinking we could start with… a date?” 

Buck’s heart stutters. “Y-yeah?” 

Eddie squeezes his hip. “If you want.” 

“I want,” Buck says immediately, bowled over by relief. “I– I want, Eddie.” 

“Okay.” Eddie’s smile grows, stretching into a grin. “Good.” 

“I— um. The squirrels,” Buck says. “They can have my house.” 

Eddie barks a surprised laugh. “What?” 

“They can have it,” Buck insists. “I’ll stay. Here.” 

Eyes so fond it aches, Eddie grins at him. “Works for me.” 

And, well. Maybe Buck can’t legally give his house to a family of rodents. But he could sell it. Or convince Eddie and Chris to move in, once the squirrels are gone. 

It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they stick together. Buck, Eddie, and Chris. Because they’re a family. Because there’s love, and happiness, and — to Buck’s utter delight — a future here. 

He’s home now, he’s realising. He’s where he’s supposed to be. Who would have thought all it would take was a couple dozen squirrels?