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"… it's such a crisis right now," Oliver says, shifting on the too-small sound booth couch again in a way that pushes his shoulder into Ryan. "We wanted to — I hope we did it at least a little bit of justice. Got the fans to think a little harder about addiction and how it can really affect anyone."
Theresa Allen of the Green Room Gossip podcast twists her branded ball cap around so that it's backwards and pulls her microphone closer to her face. "Yeah, absolutely. I could tell from your portrayal of Buck's struggles that you put a lot of thought and intention into it."
"Thank you," Oliver says. "That's great to hear."
"Okay, hang on a minute," Theresa says. "I want to make sure anyone listening knows where to find these episodes. 9-1-1 airs on ABC, Thursday nights, but they're on a short break right now so you can catch up …"
While she does the spiel, Ryan nudges his shoulder back into Oliver to signal for some space. Oliver turns his head and widens his eyes. Ryan has been sitting and waiting patiently while Theresa dissects Oliver's acting choices around the opioid arc, but he has things to say, and the way this green loveseat is crowding them together is not helping him keep his thoughts organized. Ryan reaches across and shoves at Oliver with his hand.
This is, of course, the moment that Theresa wraps her plug for the show "— let's get back to some questions —" and Ryan remembers that they're being filmed. It's the kind of podcast where the video will go on YouTube simultaneous to the audio being uploaded to Spotify or whatever.
They're filming, and Ryan is pushing at Oliver's shoulder and pec. This is the kind of thing that would normally make him sweat, but actually it's fine. This ties in neatly with what he's here to talk about.
"Ryan, don't worry," Theresa says, narrowing her eyes at him comically. "I haven't forgotten about you."
Ryan places a hand over his heart. "I'm relieved to hear it, Theresa. Don't leave me hanging here."
"I would never," she says, picking up on his vibe. "Let me ask you this. I know for a fact that at least some of Eddie's back story is based on your real life."
"You bet. Tim loves that sort of thing. And especially for me — for Eddie's character — he drew a lot on my actual life."
"Right, right." She starts ticking off on her fingers. "You're from Texas. Eddie's from Texas. You have Mexican heritage, so does Eddie. Your mother is Swedish —"
"— and so is Eddie's mother," he finishes for her.
"I want to know — how have those parallels been a boon to you as an actor, and how have they been challenging?"
Ryan makes one last futile attempt to put some space between him and Oliver, who is leaning back with his arms crossed, watching him. Then he gives up and slings his arm along the back of the couch, behind Oliver, just to have room to stretch.
"I'm so glad you asked," he tells Theresa. "I've talked a lot in past interviews about those parallels, about the ways that I really relate to Eddie, have learned through playing him how to show up in my own life."
"The story about walking Christopher to school," Theresa supplies.
"Exactly." He points at her. "This role has taught me so much about being a father, a friend, the kind of person I want to be in this life. But I think one of the most interesting things is when we diverge. The ways Eddie is actually different from me."
"Ooh, say more about that."
Ryan pulls his foot up to rest on his knee, knocking into Oliver in the process. "Oh, sorry, man," he says, patting Oliver on the knee. Despite the cramped quarters, he feels relaxed. This is the perfect opening. He's excited to voice the idea that's been circling around his head for months. For this whole season really.
He takes a sip of his iced green tea, then makes eye contact with Theresa and smiles. "Would you believe I found my first gray hair not too long ago?" He gestures at his hair. Beside him, Oliver shifts irritably, the nonverbal equivalent of grumbling.
Theresa whistles. "Not bad. You're, what, thirty-eight? Lots of people start going gray before then." She leans around her microphone to squint at him. "I'm not seeing anything, though, Ryan."
"Mm-hmm." Ryan gestures to his right temple. "Right here. A couple of 'em, actually. Like a … whole patch."
"Oh, my god," Oliver cuts in, actually tugging Ryan away from his microphone with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Please, I'm begging you, do not get him started."
"Hey, now," Ryan says. "I wasn't that bad."
"Man, it was all you talked about for weeks on set." His arms are crossed.
"Okay, okay, I get it." Ryan turns back to Theresa. "I might have brought it up a few times." He can practically feel Oliver's eye roll. "They made me dye it for filming."
"Aw, I would've liked to see it on the show! Eddie's balancing long shifts and a kid, too. Just like you."
Ryan gestures a loose pointed finger at her. "Right! I said the same thing! I called Tim over the day I saw it, told him, like, 'hey, we should do a story about Eddie and getting older, and what that feels like,' but then this one —" he elbows Oliver "— was already having a crisis about getting older, so …" He shrugs.
Here it is. He takes a deep breath. "I've just been trying hard to remember that — I'm not Eddie. He's not me." Ryan rubs his stubbly chin. "Y'know, like — Tim took my mustache and made it Eddie's, uh, manifestation of grief, or whatever —"
"Mmm-hmm," Theresa hums.
"But not everything that happens to me, happens to Eddie, and not everything that's true for Eddie is true for me. You know? Like. We're different."
Theresa nods, intense in the way that makes her such a good interviewer. "Give me a specific example."
Ryan smiles big. "Well, so far neither of my kids have run away to Texas, so …"
"Thank god for that." Theresa chuckles.
"No, but seriously," he says, voice deepening as he tilts his chin down. "It's really got me thinking. You know." He gestures broadly.
Oliver tenses beside him, probably because Ryan is gesticulating into his space.
"This whole 'Buddie' thing that Oliver and I have going on —"
Oliver turns his whole body to look at Ryan now.
"— I've always thought, you know — I'm straight." He lets that sink in for a beat. "And that's gotta mean Eddie's straight. That's how I've been playing him."
Theresa and Oliver are both staring him down. Theresa with focus, Oliver with obvious trepidation. Ryan stalls out for a moment at the sight of Oliver's wide blue eyes and incredulous eyebrows.
Theresa slides in smoothly, breaking off the silence before it has the chance to become dead air. She turns her attention to the other side of the couch. "Oliver, I remember from a couple seasons ago, you told everyone that you started to play Buck as bisexual before you ever heard about 'Buck, Bothered and Bewildered.'"
"Hmm," Oliver coughs to stall. "Well, yeah. That was a decision I made for Buck's character."
Theresa turns back to Ryan. She smiles sweetly. "Ryan, are you saying you've changed how you're playing Eddie, too?"
"Exactly," Ryan says. "What I realized," he continues, swatting at Oliver's biceps so that he'll let him get this out, "is just because I'm straight doesn't gotta mean that Eddie is."
Theresa's jaw drops. Oliver inhales loudly next to him.
"Are you saying —?"
Ryan isn't stupid. He knows that saying too much more is putting the cart before the horse, at least until the finale airs. Which is why he isn't going to elaborate. This is just a soft launch.
"I'm saying — have you seen Buck and Eddie?" He gestures back and forth between him and Oliver. "And," he says when Theresa opens her mouth to ask more, "that's really all I can say." He grins. Fuck it. He winks at her, then turns back to Oliver, to see what his reaction is now that Ryan has said his piece.
"Jesus," Oliver says, shaking his head. "You are going to be in so much trouble."
—
"Man, what were you thinking," Oliver says flatly, cornering Ryan in the parking lot after.
Ryan runs a hand through his hair (doesn't matter what it looks like now that they're done with the interview) and leans on his truck to look at Oliver. "What — you're allowed to talk about your characterization, but I'm not?"
"Not if you're going around spoiling major plot points," Oliver says. He's annoyed, nostrils flaring, arms crossed. "You should call Tim, get ahead of this."
"Not sure what there is to get ahead of," Ryan says, turning back to unlock his car. He knows exactly what Oliver is getting at — knows what he said was probably a little much — but Christ, let a guy say his truth.
"Ryan. You just outed Eddie."
He squints in the sun. "I'm doing my part to build up the hype for the finale, when Eddie realizes —"
Without warning, Oliver claps his hand over Ryan's mouth. "Shout a little louder," he says, pressing his fingers against Ryan's lips for a second before pulling back.
Ryan reflexively reaches up to touch his mouth, then casual-casual puts his hand back in his pocket when he catches Oliver smirking at him. It's golden hour, and the sun is catching Oliver's eyelashes so that they seem almost transparent.
"Do you want to come over?" Ryan hears himself asking. He doesn't pick the kids up until tomorrow afternoon.
Oliver is already shaking his head, though, which is fine. Obviously. "I gotta get home and let the dogs out."
"Sure," Ryan says, opening his car door, sliding into the driver's seat.
But Oliver is holding the door out of reach so that he can't close it. He looks at Ryan for a long moment. "Meet me there?"
Ryan settles more comfortably into his seat, pushes his sunglasses up. Makes Oliver sweat just a little. Then he says, "Bet."
Oliver nods, and then shuts the door, tapping the roof twice as he turns away.
—
When he pulls up outside Oliver's house, the dogs are already in the yard. Oliver might have a mom van, but he drives like a maniac, speeding up through yellow lights instead of slowing down, zipping around slow drivers — meaning he got home before Ryan.
Oliver's house is nice; Ryan enjoys spending time here. It's just … the dogs. They're cute, but they're so hairy. And so … up in his business all the time. Case in point, they all rush him as soon as he opens the gate. He closes it carefully behind himself and makes sure the latch catches so no one can escape.
The high-pitched voice Ryan reserves for babies and animals slips out as he greets the dogs. They greet him back, sniffing his waist, head-butting him, barking loudly enough that he probably won't have to knock, because Oliver will be alerted that he's here just from the noise out front.
"Hey," Oliver greets, appearing in the doorway wearing a tank top and shorts.
"Hey," Ryan says back, gently pushing through the tide of dogs to the porch, brushing up against Oliver as he ducks inside. He smells like fresh deodorant and faintly of muscle rub.
The dogs file in behind him, running off deeper into the house.
Ryan takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he starts on his explanation. If Oliver will just listen to what he has to say instead of shutting him down, Ryan knows he can get him to understand.
And then Oliver closes the door behind him, and then they're alone in the air conditioning and shiny wood, and Ryan loses his nerve a little bit. Oliver crosses his arms and leans back against the door. "Can I get you anything?"
One time, Oliver hosted a watch party at his house, and he served cauliflower pieces and called them "wings." So Ryan doesn't feel bad for his suspicious tone when he asks, "What do you have?"
They wander into the kitchen, and Oliver pulls open the fridge. "I've got protein granola. Energy balls. Chickpeas. Carrot fries."
Ryan has lived in California long enough to know what an energy ball is. To guess what the carrot fries are. The chickpeas just look like plain cooked chickpeas in a big glass jar. "Chickpeas aren't a snack, bro," he says mildly.
"Suit yourself," Oliver says mildly back. "You want something or not?"
"Give me some of that protein granola and … do you have iced tea?"
A few minutes later, Ryan sinks onto the couch, tiny bowl of bitter-tasting granola balanced on his knee, and cracks open the can of bougie iced tea. Oliver sits down next to him, but far enough away that he has space to turn sideways to look at him.
Ryan asks the question that was burning in his mind the whole drive up here. "Do you think Theresa took what I said the wrong way?"
"What exactly was the 'right' way to take what you said?" Oliver asks as he nibbles on a plate of carrot fries. (They're literally just roasted carrots. Fucking vegans.)
Ryan sets the bowl and can on the end table to free up his hands.
"I've been trying to … make interesting acting decisions all season. Why's that different from you deciding to play Buck as bisexual before you got the go-ahead?"
"It's just different."
"I'm actually really proud of myself."
Oliver looks away, but not before Ryan catches the eye roll he's clearly trying to disguise. The judgment is like a little stab to his chest.
Rya clenches and unclenches a fist to let his upset bleed out before he responds. "I know that … I know they were trying to do all of … this stuff," Ryan gestures between the two of them, "last season. And I guess I'm kind of glad Pete left —"
"Ryan —" Oliver turns his head sharply.
"No, no, not like — I miss him. I'm not glad he's gone. I'm just glad that Buddie …" He coughs, still not used to talking about it — about them — so openly with Oliver. "I'm glad they waited until now to move it forward. I don't think I would've … gotten it, fully, if they'd done it last season."
"I know you know why people like the two of us —"
"I do," he says. Because of course he does. They both really played into the bromance of it all for several years, and without really talking about it. It was mostly a joke back then — or at least it was to Ryan — when the stakes weren't so high and neither of them realized that they'd be playing these characters for years to come. "Of course I do. It's our own fault," he laughs a little bitterly.
That gets a wry smile out of Oliver. "Sure is."
"But I …" Ryan furrows his eyebrows. He thought he knew exactly what to say, went over it during the car ride over from the studio. Now, it's like everything he planned, his whole well-thought-out explanation, is just out of reach. "I rewatched like … the whole series after we wrapped filming eight."
"Thought you hated watching old —"
"I do. I did." Ryan shakes his head. "But I wanted to understand. Why Tim wants to do, well, us. What people see."
He watched it furtively every time he was on a plane. Put it on in the background while he worked out or cooked dinner or folded laundry. Watched episodes in bed every night.
He started with season one, to do the thing properly, episodes he hadn't watched since he got the role seven years ago. It was a good arc. Dramatic and exciting and full of messy personal lives. Baby Buck mostly acting like the human equivalent of a naughty puppy for half the season …
In season two, he made himself watch his own scenes — the ones with Oliver, even when he cringed at his past acting choices. So much of it was — the bromance, played for laughs. He feels protective of young Buck and Eddie, but also of young Oliver and Ryan. They had no idea what they were starting.
The thing was, as he watched on, through the seasons, he felt a mounting frustration. The fact that season four didn't end up with them getting together … well, he knows about all the behind the scenes reasons why it didn't happen, remembers how he felt about the whole thing at the time — but as a casual viewer, it's absurd. The fucking will! The way Eddie and Buck looked at each other.
In fact, almost every scene they have together, if Ryan pulls away from the fact that he's watching himself, he can feel the crackle. The chemistry. There's the way Oliver looks at Eddie, of course, the way he moves around him. But then, Ryan can admit it, there's also the way he looks at Buck. It's a two-way street, no way around it.
All the way up to season eight, and the memory of filming that goodbye hug in the rain. Take after take of being closer to Oliver than ever before. Ryan has filmed his fair share of kissing and sex scenes in his acting career, but that stupid fucking hug rivalled all of them for — intimacy. The contrast between pouring out their characters' vulnerabilities, and then the return of casual British Oliver joking between takes made Ryan feel a little crazy. He knows they did a good job with that scene. The number of people who have brought up his "eyebrow scrunch" seems to support that …
"And?" Oliver prompts now. "What did you think?"
"I think … I get it."
Oliver smiles, more genuine this time, small and kind. "I'm glad."
"Eddie's been … so much of Eddie has been inspired by my real life. And you and Buck … you're — like two totally different people. So, like, you've got that distance. Easier to play him as bisexual and not feel like that has to mean something about you, y'know?"
"Ryan, uh —"
"So that's what I mean, what I meant when I told Theresa. Like. I don't have to be gay, just because Eddie is. Because he is. Definitely, right? Like. I mean. The way he looks at Buck? The way he talks about Buck? To Buck? That's a gay man right there." Ryan chuckles. "And now that I'm actually making those choices, making the deliberate acting choices, oh my god!" He lets his neck loosen so his head falls back on the couch. "It feels so good! Like, wow! I'm actually acting, you know? It's a network show, but I'm like. I'm doing it."
Oliver is silent, suspiciously so, so Ryan raises his head back up to look over at him.
"What?" Ryan asks.
"Ryan," Oliver swallows a breath. "You … know that I am bisexual, right?"
He takes that in. Takes a beat to sip some iced tea. Reaches for the granola, then decides against it. (He can still taste the hemp protein.) The sound of the dogs rough-housing in the other room briefly catches his focus. "What?" he finally says.
Oliver sighs. "How do you not know this?"
"I … I don't know."
He rests his chin in his hand and looks at Ryan wearily. Like he's willing to give him a second to process, but he's feeling impatient about it.
"Anyway," Ryan says, clearing his throat and swallowing some more tea. "Anyway, that's fine. That's you. Or Buck. Whatever." He puts the can back down and starts flexing his fingers. He might have given Eddie his nervous hand-wringing tic, but that still doesn't mean — "Eddie is gay."
"Right," Oliver says.
"But I'm straight."
"Okay." Oliver stands up. "Great. Good for you, man."
Ryan leans back against the back of the couch to look up at him. "Where are you going?"
"Gotta take the dogs out," Oliver says shortly.
"Oh, great. I'll come with."
"No."
"What?"
"Stay here," Oliver says, grabbing a baseball cap and a big tangle of leashes. "You should call Tim."
Ryan groans. "Ollie, come on."
He pulls on the baseball cap, then turns back to look at Ryan. "I like it better when you call me Ollie than 'brother,' or whatever."
"Uh. Okay. Noted." He's not sure what that's got to do with anything.
"Call Tim. Get ahead of this interview thing. Maybe they can hold the podcast till after the finale. Make it an exclusive or something."
"Okay, spin doctor."
Oliver points at him. "Listen, I'm just trying to look out for you, Ryan. I'm glad you can see the vision or whatever. For Eddie. It's good. But don't fuck up your career over this." He stands in the living room for another moment. "Don't fuck this up for the fans, okay? For everyone."
Ryan harrumphs. He's willing to admit that Oliver is right, at least about accidentally spoiling part of the storyline. It's just — he really thought that Oliver would be proud of him. Excited for him. Interested in hearing about his process, like he has been in the past.
Oliver comes back through the living room, tennis shoes on and all the dogs leashed up and panting with excitement, tugging him toward the front door. He's got a dog walker who comes during the day, Ryan knows, but she doesn't run with the dogs like Oliver does.
"Call Tim,"Oliver repeats.
Ryan rolls his eyes but still digs his phone out of his pocket to do so.
"I'll make it worth your while if you do," Oliver says as he turns to go.
Ryan's breath catches in his throat.
They used to do this all the time, back around seasons two and three. Offer each other silly inconsequential prizes. Ordering lunch or coffee, or taking each other bowling, or sitting through a particularly egregious movie that only one of them wanted to watch, to reward memorizing lines or in exchange for getting snacks from crafty on a break.
It's been years since Oliver has hung the proverbial carrot out in front of Ryan's face, and the reappearance has him salivating with the expectation.
"Uh … okay, uh, have a — safe run," he calls after Oliver, who's already halfway out the front door.
Much to his surprise, Tim's not really upset at all. Ryan still gets a brief dressing-down, but then Tim promises it's fine, that they can get ahead of it, that Ryan did the right thing in calling him to let him know. They talk for a while, and it sounds like ABC's marketing department has enough sway in things, enough power, that Tim's sure they can keep this under wraps until the finale drops. Which probably just means Theresa's getting the network television equivalent of hush money.
After they hang up, Ryan sends a text to his own publicist to update her on the topic too, and then silences his phone, not wanting to deal with anything else related to press today.
Now, his assigned task taken care of, Ryan's mind wanders. He looks around the living room, recontextualizing everything — now that he knows all of this decor was chosen by someone who's bisexual.
He's been here dozens of times before, but he's never taken the time to really look.
The couch. The curtains. The art next to the bookshelves — is there something bisexual about an abstract blue painting? He squints at the titles of the books themselves — is Oliver reading stories about bisexual characters? Ryan doesn't know enough to know which books might belong to that genre.
As he looks around, nothing looks different, and yet everything is imbued with new weight now that Ryan knows this new detail about his co-star and friend. Which — how did he not know?
Oliver had seemed comfortable kissing men on screen before. At the time, Ryan chalked it all up to his acting experience. Having to take the lead with Lou, with the actor who played Zane. But now … now that Ryan knows that Oliver does that for fun, too, for his own pleasure …
Thinking about the scenes they'll be filming early next season … It's getting him a little hot under his collar. Ryan stands up and paces around the house, picking up trinkets here and there without really looking at them. Too distracted, images of how it might feel to have Oliver's hands on his bare skin flitting through his mind. Thoughts of their tongues in each others' mouths. What it might be like to tug Oliver's hair, to manhandle him around the room.
Wandering into the kitchen, he opens the fridge, only to be met with the same awful snack options from before. Then — the front door opens and the sounds of dog paws skidding on the hardwood floor, the panting breath and gentle barks as Oliver removes the leashes from his beloved dogs.
"Hi," Ryan says as Oliver reaches past him for a coconut water in the fridge. He gets a whiff of sweat and sunscreen, and it amps up the buzzing in his stomach. "Let me get out of your way," he says, placing a hand on the small of Oliver's back as he steps back, just to feel the slightly damp cotton of his T-shirt.
Oliver chugs his drink, throat bobbing, then finally looks at Ryan. "Well? Did you talk to Tim?"
"Uh, yeah," Ryan says, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.
"What'd he say?"
"It's all good," Ryan says, eyes drifting over Oliver's face and collarbones peeking out from under his shirt. Oliver who is bisexual. Who's been bisexual this whole time. "Tim's going to sort it out."
"Good." Oliver nods. "Okay. I'm going to shower quick."
"Wait, what about my reward?" It feels like, if Oliver leaves the room, the whole thing will be forgotten.
"Relax." Oliver claps a hand on Ryan's upper arm. "Just give me five minutes. Be right back."
Ryan is left alone with the dogs milling around the kitchen. He slinks back into the living room and sits on the couch where Oliver's favorite dog — Jade — follows him in and rests her chin on his knee. He spends the time petting her soft head and scrolling on his phone. He responds to a text from his ex reminding him about the kids' schedule for tomorrow. Watches a few Instagram reels.
Then Oliver is walking back into the room in a fresh T-shirt and shorts, hair dark from the shower, and Ryan thinks, finally.
"Ready?" Oliver throws himself down on the couch next to Ryan, ruffles Jade's fur, and grabs the remote for his TV.
"What are you doing?" Ryan asks.
"Let me just pull it up," Oliver replies, navigating to Netflix.
"Pull what up?"
"Ryan, oh my god." Oliver looks over at him. "Relax, man. Your prize for facing your fears with Tim. I thought we could finally watch …" Oliver sighs heavily. "Ugh. KPop Demon Hunters."
Under normal circumstances, this would actually be an incredible reward. Ryan's been trying to sell Oliver on the movie since he watched it with his kids and found it surprisingly enjoyable. Oliver is going to roll his eyes through the whole thing but secretly love it, and then he'll actually get Ryan's references about it. He can crack a soda open in Oliver's ear and call him his little soda pop. It'll be hilarious.
But Eddie is gay, and Oliver is bisexual, and these don't feel like normal circumstances.
"Forget that," Ryan says, taking the remote out of Oliver's hands and tossing it on the coffee table. "Kiss me."
Oliver stills next to him. "Why?" he says finally.
Ryan absolutely didn't plan for those words to come out of his mouth, so he doesn't have a justification ready. "For the …" He grapples for something to say. "So we don't have to do it in front of a room of cameras for the first time."
"Okay …" Oliver is holding himself so still. "Why now? We could wait until rehearsals for next season, until we have a script? Or any idea of how it's going to happen?"
"Yeah, but …" They're all valid points. Really — super valid points.
Ryan doesn't care. "Eddie is going to have to kiss Buck a lot next season. I want to make sure it looks natural."
"You don't think it should be fresh? Their first time kissing?"
He resists the urge to groan at Oliver's continued protestations. "We're actors, we can act like it's fresh. No one has to know."
Still, Oliver doesn't move.
"Ollie …" Ryan whines.
"Oh, my god, fine," Oliver says, and then he's scooping Ryan up, pulling him over to straddle his lap.
It's a cliché, but Ryan can feel his heart pounding in his chest. Oliver is right there below him — imperfect skin and damp hair and warm breath. He places a hand on Ryan's cheek, runs his fingers over his stubble, pulls him in.
Ryan is familiar with kissing people for work. Knows the choreography, how to do the nibble on her lip for three seconds while you caress the back of her neck with your right hand thing. Knows how to talk about intimate things in plain, simple language. How to remove it from the emotional impact. Has worn the fucking modesty pouch and robe on closed sets, feeling the furthest thing from sexy.
This is — different. No script, for starters. No carefully planned camera angles and repeated-to-death dialogue. It's just chasing the sensation of kissing, of being kissed.
Ryan tries to take mental notes — to catalogue this. Think about it from Eddie's perspective. Imagines how he might feel about the way Oliver presses forward until Ryan pushes back. What Eddie would think of the little satisfied noise in Oliver's throat, the deep inhale like he's drinking him up.
He feels his hips hinge forward as Oliver sucks on his tongue, and then big hands are coming up to hold Ryan's waist, to guide him into a slow grind against Oliver's lap.
Eddie would like this a lot. All of it. Hands and tongues and hips and groins and the shared breath when they pull apart.
"More," Ryan pants, his forehead resting against Oliver's.
But Oliver presses his hand into Ryan's sternum and pushes, saying, "Uh-uh," as he does.
Oliver's right to do it, but Ryan still harrumphs internally as he slides off of Oliver's lap and settles on the couch next to him. Oliver can be such a buzzkill. They were just having some fun.
Oliver is looking over at him with an even expression. He looks like his heart rate is already back down to resting. His hair isn't even rumpled. "Satisfied?" he asks Ryan, and ah, his voice is a little croaky.
Not really. Ryan wasn't done thinking about how Eddie would feel kissing Buck. Feels like they barely scratched the surface. It's all but guaranteed to happen again, though, he reminds himself, a satisfied smile blooming on his face. Season ten, baby.
"I'm good," he answers Oliver. He swipes a hand over his mouth. "You want to watch the movie?"
Oliver retrieves the remote and cues it up, cool as a cucumber.
Ryan sits back on the couch, this one much roomier than where they sat to record with Theresa. He could move over, give Oliver some space, but he's comfortable here. He lets his knees splay open a little, till their legs are touching.
"Ready?" Oliver says.
"Ready."