Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There’s a snowflake stuck to Eddie’s eyebrow. Buck wants to brush it away, maybe with his tongue. Now that he thinks about it, it’s really too bad that Eddie shaved his mustache. Buck could have licked so many snowflakes off that mustache.

Buck’s been suspecting lately that maybe there are bugs in his brain. Feels like they might be running the show. If he told anyone that, in those words, they’d think he meant it in a bad way. But Buck likes bugs. They’re all just living their lives. Often with highly specialized skills. If anyone should be in charge of Buck’s brain, maybe they’d actually be the most qualified.

He’s also starting to suspect that his carefully crafted ecosystem of insect helpers are malfunctioning here in Hershey. He can’t blame them really, they’re used to the balmy LA winter and it’s a lot colder out here.

This might have been a bad idea.

It’s just that Eddie’s parents had booked a Christmas cruise for themselves and Christpher, and had conveniently forgotten to get Eddie a ticket. And then Buck had been guilted into a trip to Hershey on the grounds of “Jee’s first white Christmas” and “rebuilding family ties.” And Eddie can’t be alone for Christmas. And everything is better with Eddie there for moral support. And Eddie might be gone for good soon, so Buck needs to hold on extra tight while he still can.

Eddie had just quirked an eyebrow questioningly when Buck first asked him to come along, then quickly agreed. Suspiciously quickly. Buck hadn’t even needed to run him through his carefully curated talking points.

And now…

Now Buck’s standing in the front yard of his childhood house simultaneously thinking about licking his best friend’s face and procrastinating taking the last few steps up to the front door, the last layer of protection between him and his parents.

Eddie has clearly clocked Buck’s stalling, and is very patiently standing around in the snow as Buck points out the tree he fell out of and broke his arm, the neighbor’s house that gave out king-sized candy bars at Halloween, and the approximate location of the still-bare patch of lawn where Buck had set the grass on fire — “By accident, Eddie!”

Eddie shivers and Buck can’t help but laugh, it’s barely below freezing. Eddie rolls his eyes and shoulder checks him good-naturedly, if a little harder than usual.

“Okay, let’s get you inside, wimp,” Buck says, pushing Eddie up the front walk and toward the house.

“I’m not a wimp, Buck,” Eddie pops the b like he does when he’s feigning annoyance, “not all of us are freaks who think sub-zero temperatures are normal.”

Buck lets his mouth hang open in exaggerated shock and offence. “First of all, more than half of the US population lives in climate zones 4 or higher, are they all freaks?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, simultaneously fond and skeptical, a look Buck has come to understand means I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, but please go on.

“And this is nowhere near sub-zero,” Buck lays it on thick with air quotes, “if anything you’re lucky it’s warm enough to be snowing.”

“Warm enough to be snowing?” Eddie mouths to himself, more than says. He makes exaggerated eye contact with Buck, pulling the same face he’d made when they’d been sprayed with sewer runoff on a call. “Confirmed freaks.”

“Not my fault you’ve barely left zone 3, Tex.” Buck says, clapping Eddie on the back.

Ugh, Texas is an off-limits thought.

Buck stumbles a little and — oh — they’ve hit the front stoop now, and Buck can’t really stall any longer. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the door knob. Eddie nudges their shoulders together, softly this time, teasing gone from his eyes.

“You got this,” he says gently. And if Eddie thinks so, then maybe Buck really does.

It’s hectic inside. Maddie and Chim took an earlier flight, have fully settled in, and now Maddie is trying to corral a travel-tired and near-tantrum Jee into the guest room for a nap. Margaret is helping, playing the doting grandmother. Buck can hear Philip and Chim in the kitchen, seemingly embroiled in an awkward but well-meaning man-to-man about deep frying turkeys. Aunts and uncles are milling around the house, along with a few cousins with their own children in tow. It’s nice. Warm and familial. Buck can’t help but wonder a little morosely why Christmas Eve couldn’t have been like this when he was growing up.

He and Eddie slip into the house unnoticed, so maybe this Christmas isn’t that different after all.

As they walk up to his old room, it occurs to Buck that he hadn’t really told anyone he was bringing Eddie. Well, Maddie, but crucially not his parents. Oh, Margaret and Philip are going to throw a fit — hopefully a fit so buttoned-up and underhanded that Eddie won’t even realize it’s happening. Buck sighs. Eddie always notices.

The little colony of dung beetles that rolls Buck’s thoughts around his mind have just been so busy recently. Busy with big thoughts, like what if I cause a scene again and ruin Christmas? or what if this was a pity invite and my parents don’t even want me to come? So there’s not been much beetle-power left over for the smaller thoughts, like warning his parents that he’s bringing a plus-one with him from across the country.

“Not sure where everyone’s sleeping yet, but you can just drop your stuff in here for now,” he tells Eddie.

But Eddie is a step ahead, has seemingly already made himself at home while Buck was dawdling in the doorway thinking, and has moved on to surveying Buck’s teenage possessions, currently eyeing a poster featuring a busty blond draped over a motorcycle.

“Who’d this belong to, Buck 0.5?” he says, like he thinks he’s funny.

“Ha ha,” Buck mumbles, a little defensive, face hot, “didn’t realize that was still up.” He peels the sticky tack off the wall at each corner and carefully slides the poster behind his dresser. “Honestly, I’m surprised they didn’t throw all this stuff out as soon as I left.”

“Hey, man,” Eddie says, hands up in surrender, “everyone in this room has been a teenage boy before, no shame.” Then, waggling his eyebrows, “Maybe I wanted her to stay up.”

Buck just rolls his eyes, but Eddie is on to the next thing, squinting at a small collection of insects encased in amber that Buck had spent his childhood collecting, now scattered across the bookshelf.

“Now this is the Buck I know,” he says, gingerly picking up the scorpion, “once a dork always a dork.”

“Excuse me, those are super rare and extremely cool, actually. Chris would back me up on this!” Buck says, before his brain catches up to him.

Christopher is an off-limits thought too.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, still smiling, but a little deflated, “he would.” He takes out his phone, snaps a picture, and types out a message, frowning a little before he presses send.

“Okay,” he says, after the somber mood lingers a little too long, “they’re going to send a search party if we don’t join the festivities soon.” Buck highly doubts that his parents would notice if he literally died and withered into skeletal remains in this room instead of joining the festivities, but lets himself be shepherded out into the party anyway, Eddie’s hand solid against his back.

Maddie and Chim aside, it’s clear to Buck that no one really knows what to make of Eddie’s presence at this family gathering, but are trying their best not to show it. Buck feels himself bristling at first; who wouldn’t want Eddie around? But when he stops to think, he can understand the confusion. He’s used to his and Eddie’s “weird deal”, as Chim calls it, and so is everyone they know back in LA, but he’ll concede that bringing your completely platonic best friend across the entire continental US, to your parents’ house, for Christmas, in your thirties, might not exactly be the norm.

Eddie, to his credit, seems to be taking it in stride, making his signature easy small talk with everyone Buck introduces.

It doesn’t go sideways until Aunt Deborah finds them. Buck likes Deborah, on the whole. She’s loud and nosy, so she always made stiff family gatherings a little more interesting when he was a bored kid. But when she zeros in on Buck, he realizes it’s a lot less fun to be the one in her crosshairs, particularly when she’s two glasses of Barefoot Chardonnay down and on her way to a third.

“Little Evan!”, she crows, as soon as she locks eyes on him, crushing him in the kind of heavily-perfumed hug you can only get from a weird aunt, “what are they feeding you out there in LA?” She leans back and reaches up to pat his chest, over the placket of his shirt, “These buttons aren’t going to hold on much longer if you keep bulking up like this,” she whispers conspiratorially. Buck can hear Eddie stifling a laugh beside him, and Deborah’s gaze shifts.

“Oh Evan, this must be your boyfriend!”

Buck drops his glass. It doesn’t even have the courtesy to shatter dramatically, just thunks against the carpet stupidly, wine stain spreading. The pill bugs that control Buck’s fine motor function have curled up and scattered like someone pulled up the rock they were under and let in a ray of sunlight.

Buck curses the speed at which news travels to elderly cross-country relatives — fast enough to know Buck was dating a man, slow enough to not know it was over.

Buck knows he’s been staring silently at his dropped glass for too long, and finally opens his mouth to correct her, but stops short when Eddie settles an arm around Buck’s shoulder. He extends his other arm to shake Deborah’s hand.

“Yep. Eddie Diaz, nice to meet you.”

Buck tries to act natural as he excuses himself to the bathroom, dodging a lingering look from Maddie.

He closes the door behind him, sits down on the closed toilet seat, head in his hands, and lets out a long breath.

When Buck realized he was bi, he had looked back on his whole life, like one does, with new eyes. All the crushes on guys he’d missed because he wasn’t looking for them.

It didn’t take long to realize that that’s what had been going on when Eddie first started at the 118 — a big fat crush. But it didn’t have to be a big deal, Buck had crushes on a lot of people, was crush-prone even. Hell, he’d had a crush on Hen for a while, in a friend’s-cool-older-sister type of way. So it didn’t have to change anything, a crush on a friend-slash-coworker.

And it was so long ago anyway, it was barely relevant anymore. Eddie was his best friend now, not just some new, ripped probie. And he was with Tommy.

But then Tommy had broken things off — I’m your first, but not your last — and Buck had walked in on Eddie in nothing but his underwear and a button up, and suddenly it felt like a big deal again. Something more than a crush, maybe.

Buck had been surprised, at first, that he didn’t act any differently around Eddie after that. It turns out he’d been acting in love with Eddie since day one, and he couldn’t be much more obvious if he tried. The problem was that he could see it now, he was watching himself in slow motion, painfully aware of his lovelorn behavior but unable to stop. It was unnerving. But he was getting used to it.

But Eddie slinging an arm around his shoulder and saying, easy as anything, Yep. Eddie Diaz, nice to meet you. had decidedly not been part of Buck’s extensive crush-on-Eddie exposure therapy.

Buck moves to perch on the ledge of the bathtub so he can open the toilet seat. The swarm of bees that lives in Buck’s stomach are buzzing frantically and it feels like they want out. He might be sick.

There’s a knock at the door and Buck keeps his voice impressively steady as he says, “Be out in a second.”

The knob turns anyway, and Eddie slips in, eyes big and fixed on Buck.

“Dude, what if I’d actually been pissing?” Buck blurts out, surprising himself at how harsh he sounds. He’s a little mad at Eddie now that he sees him, if he’s being honest. Real weird joke to pull at family Christmas.

Eddie snorts, the tension on his face breaking.

“Well, you’re clearly not.” There’s a beat of silence and the tension comes back. “Sorry about that.”

“I mean you’re right I’m not pissing, so it’s fine.” Buck reaches for the obvious misunderstanding and runs with it, thinks maybe he can let them both off the hook for the impending conversation.

Eddie doesn’t let him.

“Not that.” Eddie shoots him a look that silently finishes the sentence, ”and you know it.”

“Right,” Buck says, a little flatly, “what was that about?” He studies the floor tiles and wonders if the grout has always been this stained or if the house just got old while he’s been away.

Eddie laughs, and it sounds as nervous as Buck feels, like it’s being punched out of him.

“I…did not think that through,” he starts, “I’m honestly not sure.”

Buck looks up then and Eddie’s running a hand through his hair, looking a little bewildered. It’s familiar and endearing, and Buck momentarily forgets to be mad.

“I just,” Eddie pauses to think, “I know this trip was already a lot for you, and then you looked so lost when she brought up your boyfriend,” his face does something complicated as he says the word, “and I thought it might help.” He looks up at the ceiling, “Which in hindsight, clearly it does not. But I figured at the rate news travels she’d hear about the breakup in about two weeks and then we’d be off the hook.”

“Right,” Buck says again, “and what was your plan for the rest of this trip?”

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, sheepish.

“Yeah, that’s the part I didn’t think through.” Honestly, he looks a little miserable. Buck has already forgiven him.

“Okay, well Deborah didn’t know any better than to fall for your little stunt, but maybe you’ve forgotten that other people here actually know us — Maddie, Chim?”

“Ughhhhhh,” Eddie groans and sinks down to sit next to Buck on the tub ledge, “and your parents. I’m an idiot.”

“Well, no, not my parents.” Buck says, earning himself an assessing look from Eddie. “Listen, I’ll talk to Maddie. I doubt anyone else will even ask about it, I’m not exactly the kid anyone cares about here. I don’t think it has to be a big deal.”

Eddie just keeps looking at him, face unreadable now.

“And congrats,” Buck says, dryly, “you’ve probably talked yourself out of your own guest room.”

At that, Eddie laughs, outright this time, less pained.

“Yeah, I think that ship already sailed,” he says, “when you clearly forgot to warn anyone I was coming.”

And Buck doesn’t have anything to say to that.

Buck opens the door carefully, not really wanting to get caught sneaking out of the bathroom together even if Eddie is, currently, his fake boyfriend. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy, though. Maddie is standing in the hallway, a respectful distance from the door but blocking their escape back to the party. Her face lights up when she sees them, and she quickly pulls them both into a tight hug.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She pulls back to smack Buck across the chest, “I’m so happy for you both, it’s about time.”

Eddie makes a strangled noise, like he’s choking on something. Buck quickly moves to herd the three of them back toward the living room, eager for the distraction of a family gathering for the first time since he arrived, or maybe ever.

“C-Can we talk about this later, Maddie?” He sounds pathetic. “It’s–it’s not what you think.”

Maddie fixes him with a look that says she’s not done, but they’re already back to the living room and Buck makes a quick beeline to the shrimp dip. He can’t answer questions with a mouth full of cream cheese and Ritz.

Buck thinks he’d been pretty clear in the bathroom that they could keep it low key. He’s under no delusions that he’ll be under enough scrutiny from his family to necessitate some sort of romantic pantomime for the rest of the trip. And even if he was, he doesn’t think he’d survive that. Eddie doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo though, because a moment later he follows Buck over to the buffet, and slides his hand into Buck’s Ritz-free hand.

“Slow down, bud, you’re gonna make yourself sick.” He says it nonchalantly, like they hold hands at parties all the time.

“Eddie…” Buck tries not to sound whiny and fails. He tries to take his hand away, but Eddie just holds on tighter. God, his hand is so warm. The lightning bugs in Buck’s cheeks start glowing, and he knows he’s blushing furiously. This needs to stop. “I told you we didn’t have to do this,” he says, dropping into a whisper.

“Do what?” Eddie is suddenly being infuriatingly calm about this, and in what Buck can only describe as an act of hysterical revenge, he shoves his dip-loaded cracker into Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s eyes go wide, then disgusted, and his hands fly up to his mouth like he’s considering spitting it out. Buck is successfully unhanded.

“What the fuck, man? That’s disgusting.” Eddie sputters, low enough not to offend the maker.

“I know,” Buck says primly, “canned shrimp. Acquired taste.” He fishes out another cracker and takes another huge scoop of dip before wandering away to let cousin Mark interrogate him about being a firefighter.

Mark doesn’t prove to be a very helpful distraction, because Eddie ignores Buck’s outburst and follows him over, swooping in to finish his sentences and tag team recounting all of their greatest rope rescues. He keeps a hand on Buck’s lower back the entire time.

And at dinner, as Margaret and Philip work through their prepared remarks about Buck’s general shortcomings, as well as an off the cuff set about how rude it is to show up with an unannounced guest, Eddie keeps a hand tight on Buck’s knee. Which isn’t even necessary for whatever show Eddie is putting on since no one can actually see it underneath the table.

Eddie goes for round two on hand holding while the children open their gifts, carefully taking Buck’s hand as they stand behind the sofa and watch Jee-Yun open a kitchen play set that absolutely will not fit in the overhead bins on the flight back to LA. Buck just lets it happen, too tired to fight it.

Eddie finally relents when he offers to help Maddie serve dessert and they abscond to the kitchen, giving Buck a few precious minutes to flop onto the sofa and breathe. Precious minutes ruined by Chimney looming over Buck with a mischievous look in his eye.

“Way to go, Buckaroo,” he says, kicking Buck’s shin playfully, “Hen owes me fifty bucks for this one.” And leaves Buck sputtering as he slips down the hall to grab a blanket for Jee, who’s fallen asleep but is too cute to be whisked off to bed quite yet.

When Eddie and Maddie reappear to start handing out slices of pie, Eddie looks frazzled. His hair is a little mussed, like it gets when he’s been fidgeting, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink. He looks happy though, and bright, and Buck has to look away. Even on a bad day, Eddie is beautiful, but this — this is a little too much for Buck’s already frayed nerves.

Out of self preservation, Buck passes the time pulling at a loose thread at the hem of his shirt, until Eddie settles back beside him, two plates in hand.

“I saved you the biggest piece,” he says, handing over one of the plates, “you look like you could use it.”

“That bad?” Buck asks, smiling and ducking his head, feeling a little shy. For all that Eddie has been driving him crazy today, Buck knows he’s only ever trying to live up to that first promise they made, to have his back. It always comes back to this, Eddie seeing Buck, really seeing him, and doing what he can to help.

“Worse.” Eddie jokes, elbowing Buck lightly. “Nah, just look a little tired. And I can’t blame you,” he says, more softly, sending a pointed glance at Buck’s parents.

“Hey,” Buck says, the day’s events having left him wrung out and honest, “seriously, thanks for coming. It was a long way to travel and I know my family can be exhausting, but it’s just nice to have another person in my corner here. Even if you went a little overboard with it.”

“Buck,” Eddie says, and god, it sounds so good coming from his mouth every time, “it’s nothing. I’m always in your corner. And it’s not lost on me that your invitation saved me from being a sad sack alone at home on Christmas. If anything I should be thanking you.”

With Eddie’s eyes fixed on him, exchanging such earnest sentiments, it starts to feel like they’re the only ones in the room, like the sofa is their own private bubble. It’s nice. It’s too much for Buck.

“On that note, I’m beat.” Buck says, sitting up, “I’m gonna talk to Maddie before she burns a hole in my face with her eyes, and then call it a night. Maybe see if I can hook you up with your own room too?”

“Either way,” Eddie says breezily, “and I — well, I already talked to Maddie — explained.” He looks a little shifty as he says it. “Figured it was only fair since I’m the one who got us into this.”

“Uh, okay thanks,” Buck says, thinking back to how pink Eddie’s cheeks had been after kitchen duty with Maddie. “Well then…” he trails off and the only thing left to do is pad up the stairs to his room, Eddie close behind.

There’s no extra room for Eddie.

Buck is sitting on the side of the bed, putting on his socks, when Eddie comes back from brushing his teeth.

“I can’t believe you wear socks to bed, you’re such a freak.” He startles Buck out of his reverie.

“You’ve seen my sleep socks a million times before, Eddie, why do you act like this every time?” It’s been a while since they’ve done this particular song and dance, but it was a favorite during lockdown at the loft.

“Don’t even get me started on you calling them your sleep socks, why do you need completely different socks for day and night?” He says, breezing past Buck’s objections.

“They make my feet feel safe.” Buck says, rearing back to kick up at Eddie’s torso. “You know this.”

Eddie catches Buck’s foot and holds on to it. He doesn’t quite laugh, but the corners of his eyes crinkle up like he is. He squeezes hard over Buck’s arch.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your feet safe tonight.” It’s a joke, but it burns through Buck’s chest, and he feels hot, like his whole body is probably turning bright red. He kicks out of Eddie’s grip, flailing to the side a little, less dignified than he was aiming for.

“My sleep socks have it handled, thank you very much.” He huffs, and turns on his heel to go brush his teeth.

When he comes back, Buck is surprised to see that Eddie has already tucked himself into bed, snuggled in against the wall.

“You sure you don’t want the outside?” Bucks asks. He knows Eddie likes a quick exit.

“Nah,” Eddies shrugs as best he can while laying down. “I know you’re gonna get up to pee about five times and I actually want to get some sleep.”

“Suit yourself,” Buck says, “ready for lights?” Eddie grunts and Buck flicks the switch, leaving the room bathed in moonlight, streaming in through the window. He flops onto the bed and tries to get comfortable, tries to ignore how pretty Eddie looks under the moon.

“Ugh, how did I live without blackout curtains?” Buck wonders aloud, “teenagers are so weird.” He gets back up to rummage around in his suitcase, draping his thickest sweater over the window to blot out the light as best he can.

When he lays back down he can tell Eddie is doing his freaky Army sleep thing. He’s laying on his back, hands tucked up to his chest like he’s dead, muscles slack, breaths deep and slow. A few minutes later he’s asleep. Must be nice.

Buck just lays and lays and lays, feeling too amped up and jittery to fall asleep. The sight of the moon hitting Eddie’s cheek had unfurled something in his chest, a big beautiful luna moth fresh from its chrysalis, doing laps around Buck’s body — stomach, toes, tip of his nose — the light fluttering wingbeats keeping him just this side of wakefulness.

And then, between one wingbeat and the next, he drifts off.

Predictably, Buck wakes up in the middle of the night. For once, it’s not his bladder.

He’s not sure what woke him actually. He’s so warm and comfortable. There’s a line of heat down his whole back. He’s being held down somehow, usually flailing limbs tricked into a semblance of peaceful sleep. He can feel puffs of warm air on the back of his neck.

Oh. It’s Eddie. He’s pressed up against Buck’s back in his sleep, one arm flung over Buck’s side, like he’s subconsciously making his way to the edge of the bed, but met a Buck-shaped obstacle. Buck lets himself luxuriate in it for a moment. It’s not completely new. There were times in lockdown that they’d woken up sprawled together, but it was usually Buck’s doing, Buck’s octopus arms to blame. And it was before Buck realized, before yep, Eddie Diaz, nice to meet you. Before Eddie’s hands were on him all day, without meaning what Buck wanted it to mean.

It’s too much all of a sudden. It’s been too much all day, but it's overwhelming now. In the muffled, liminal space of the nighttime, Buck can feel the weight of all the things he can’t really have pressing down on him. He feels like he’s going to cry suddenly, somewhere between sad and angry. He knows Eddie isn’t trying to be cruel, the opposite really, but the intent doesn’t mitigate the pain.

He’s itching to get up now, vibrating with the need to spring out of bed, and instead forcing himself to very delicately extract himself from Eddie’s grip. Finally free, he sits on the edge of the bed, breathing harshly, too loud. He hears rustling behind him and abruptly stifles his breath; the last thing he needs is to wake up Eddie. But it’s too late.

“Y’good?” Eddie grunts, and snakes out a hand to rest on Buck’s back. Buck springs up like he’s been burned.

“Yep,” he squeaks, “just gotta pee. You called it.” He practically runs to the bathroom.

The bees are back, rumbling like an earthquake. Buck does cry a little then, perched once more on the ledge of the tub. Just a few tears, but it seems to appease the swarm and they simmer back down a low buzz.

Everything’s fine, he tells himself. You’re still Buck. Eddie’s still Eddie. Nothing has changed. That’s a good thing. It sounds a lot like this doesn’t change anything between us, that night at the loft, and Buck tries to feel relief.

He can’t sleep the rest of the night in the bathroom so he splashes his face with cold water and heads back to the room, hoping that Eddie has fallen back asleep. He hasn’t. Buck can feel Eddie’s eyes tracking him across the room as soon as he slips through the door. There’s a rustle as he sits up in bed.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice is croaky, but a lot more awake than before, like Eddie’s actually intending to have a conversation at three in the morning.

“Yes, Eddie,” Buck snaps, “I’m fine. Please go back to sleep.” Buck makes to get back into bed, but suddenly Eddie is gripping his forearm, staring up at him intently, like he can wring the truth out of Buck with his eyes alone. And maybe he could.

“Buck.”

And then Buck really snaps. Wrenches his arm away from Eddie and stomps over to his suitcase, starts rooting around and throws on his hoodie once he finds it.

“Just need some fucking space.” He mutters. And climbs out the window.

It’s been more than a decade since he’s done this, but the muscle memory is still there. Shuffle across the shingles and into the space between two protruding dormers, tucked away and hidden from anyone looking for him. In this sort of a mood, he’d love to continue the journey — into the neighboring tree, down into the yard, and then wherever he wants — but he’s not sure the branch would hold his weight anymore.

Once he’s settled into his little spot, the adrenaline of his escape burnt off, the cold air brings him down instantly, like a slap to the face. The anger drains out of him, and he’s just tired again. He hugs a knee to his chest, the smallest he can really make himself these days. He feels like a kid again, up here, crawling away to hide and ride out his big feelings. Well actually, back then ride out meant jump out of the tree and break his arm about it. Today he’ll just go back inside, lay down next to Eddie, and pretend everything’s okay.

But Buck never gets that far.

A few minutes later Eddie crawls out after him. He’s pulled on sweats and socks, but Buck hears him hiss quietly when he hits the cold air. He makes his way carefully to sit next to Buck, sides smooshed together on the narrow sliver of roof.

They sit in silence for a while.

“Buck.” Eddie breaks the silence and Buck realizes he’s been holding his breath since Eddie sat down. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck turns to face Eddie, but their faces are so close like this it makes him dizzy and he has to turn away again. “This has all just been a lot,” he says, gesturing to the entire house beneath them.

“Yeah, I bet,” Eddie says gently. He takes a little breath like he’s going to keep talking but just lets it hang, the silence stretching out in the night air.

“Listen, not to add to all this,” he starts again, mimicking Buck’s hand wave, “but I feel like I should say…” he trails off again.

“What?” Buck has a feeling he’s too tired for whatever is coming.

“I lied to you earlier.”

“What?” Buck says again, definitely too tired for this.

“About…why I,” Eddie takes Buck’s hand from where it’s resting on his knee and brings it to his lap, where he just…holds it.

It feels like something might be happening, but for his own safety Buck can’t let himself believe it’s happening.

“Ohhhh-kay,” Buck says, his best attempt at a coherent response.

“Well, your aunt brought up your boyfriend.” Eddie says, as though it’s a full explanation.

“Yeah, I was there,” Buck cuts in.

“Tommy was your boyfriend.” Eddie continues, and Buck is losing his patience.

“Yes, Eddie, I was there for that too.”

“Buck,” he says firmly, squeezing his hand, “just let me…” He lets out an annoyed little huff. “I didn’t like Tommy as your boyfriend, he was bad at it. I thought I could do better.”

“Like, as a thought experiment?” Buck asks, the first stupid thought that pops into his head. He feels unmoored being so high up, so late at night. Anything could happen out here, with no way to tell what’s real or what he just wants to be real. It’s why he used to sit out here as a kid, imagining himself a different life with different parents, but it feels dangerous now. He needs someone to pinch him. “I need you to be very fucking clear about what you mean, Eddie.”

“A thought experi — Jesus, no, Buck. What does that even—?” Eddie stops for a moment and gapes like a fish, “No, like in real life,” he finishes, quietly.

“O-Okay,” Bucks voice pitches up embarrassingly, “and is there a reason you took such a bizarre approach to telling me that?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie groans, sounding equally embarrassed. He thunks his forehead down onto Buck’s shoulder, hiding.

“Okay,” Buck says again, and he can hear the smile in his own voice this time, “but you really do —?

“Yes,” Eddie cuts in emphatically.

“Okay,” Buck says again, like it’s the only word he knows anymore. He knocks his head gently against Eddie’s where it sits on his shoulder.

“Okay?” Eddie parrots back, lifting his head to look at Buck.

“Yeah,” Buck says, and god, if he keeps smiling like this he’s gonna pull a muscle. Eddie’s just staring at him, a little gobsmacked, lips parted on a cute little o. Buck is caught in the tractor beam of that o, feels himself falling in.

“Just to be clear, this is what you meant? I’m not —“ he pauses to ask, a breath away from Eddie’s lips, and gets cut off as Eddie presses forward, impatient.

Buck can’t quite pin down what it feels like to be kissing Eddie. It jolts him into his body, but he also drifts a little. He feels steadied, but also like he’s gonna fall off the fucking roof. It feels right, above all, to finally know how soft and warm the inside of his mouth is, when everything else about their lives is already so intertwined.

Eddie pulls back first, gasping for breath. He presses close to Buck, hiding his face in his neck.

“Yes, Buck, that’s exactly what I meant,” his lips tickling Buck’s neck on every word. He sounds like he’s aiming for sarcastic, but is betrayed by the undercurrent of breathless excitement in his voice. “Can we take this inside? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Bucks nods and starts shuffling them both up and back toward the window. The bees that were roiling around in his stomach earlier are in his chest now, buzzing gently, contentedly. Buck wonders what it would be like to cut a slice out of his heart and give the honeycomb to Eddie.

A few weeks after the bee incident, in Eddie’s kitchen, Buck had told Eddie — joked really, because it wasn’t true, as Buck explained later in great detail — mid-stir of his tea, that honey is actually bee barf. Eddie had scrunched up his nose, then taken a huge spoonful of honey from the jar and stuffed it into his mouth, laughing.

Buck hopes it will be exactly like that.

Chapter Text

Eddie wakes up happy.

Wakes up happy for the first time in well — the first time since Chistopher left. Or maybe since the morning after he danced around the house in his underwear and then Buck showed up. That was different though, like swimming toward a light at the surface of a dark pool. This is breaking through the surface and taking a big breath. But even now, he’s not out of the water yet.

He can’t think about all that right now, though.

Right now, he’s got an armful of sleeping Buck, which is a terrible thing to waste on dread about the future. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Buck, much needed in this godforsaken cold. He can hear Buck’s tiny snores, the wisps of breath getting snagged on something on the way out. He can smell Buck’s shampoo where his face is nuzzled against the back of Buck’s neck. He’s a little too close to see anything clearly, besides the fuzz of Buck’s curls, but it’s still the best view he’s ever woken up to. He could taste if he wanted to, stick out his tongue against Buck’s skin, but he doesn’t want to wake him yet.

Frank would be so proud of him for doing a sensory grounding exercise instead of spiralling.

He really doesn’t want to be thinking about Frank right now.

Eddie gives up on letting Buck sleep, tightening his grip around his chest and dropping a sloppy kiss to his neck. Buck comes-to slowly, with a sleepy groan, then jerks fully awake, startled.

“Eddie.” It’s not quite a question, but he doesn’t sound certain either.

“Were you expecting someone else?” Eddie jokes, then actually does reach his tongue out to lick Buck’s neck, just because he can.

“Hey!” Buck yelps, “no I just — that actually happened, huh?”

“Sure did,” Eddie tugs at Buck to flip over so they can kiss properly, face to face. Hitches a leg over Buck’s hip. “It could happen again.”

“Christ,” Buck gasps, “if I’d known you were this pent up I would’ve offered weeks ago.”

“Not pent up, just into you.” Eddie mutters, then, “Wait, only weeks?”

“Shut up,” Buck says, and ducks his head. “And as much as I love where this is going, it’s 8am on Christmas in my parents’ house. My sister and my niece are down the hall. I think we have to get up.”

Eddie grumbles and squeezes Buck extra tight before he finally relents and lets him roll out of bed.

“Can’t we sneak out the window again?” He’s not sure how many more hours he can stomach with the Buckley parents before throwing a punch.

“And miss Jee-Yun experiencing the magic of Santa?” Buck’s somehow fully dressed already, and comes to stand between Eddie’s knees where he’s still perched groggily on the edge of the bed. “Not a chance.”

“Alright, alright,” Eddie stands, putting him almost face to face with Buck, and takes the opportunity for one last, lingering kiss. “I’m up.”

Eddie digs through his suitcase for the nice sweater he packed and he can hear Buck fidgeting behind him.

“Hey, uh,” the edge of uncertainty is back in Buck’s voice, “how did you wanna play this?”

“Play what?” Eddie’s not sure he likes where this is headed.

“Well everyone out there thinks we’re dating. Except for Maddie who you told it was fake, because it was. But now it’s not.” He pauses. “We just made this a little complicated for ourselves I guess.”

Eddie goes still, reminds himself that nothing he can admit at this point can actually be more embarrassing than yesterday, and that turned out fine. Turned out great actually.

“I might not have told Maddie that it was fake, exactly.” He says it all on one exhale, words slurring together. He turns around to face Buck.

“Say more.” There’s a smug smile creeping onto Buck’s face.

“I meant to,” Eddie sputters, “the conversation just got away from me a little. Your sister’s really intimidating.”

Buck raises his eyebrows, skeptical.

“She is!” That tiny, lovely woman had scared Eddie shitless last night, whether Buck believed it or not. “Besides, I just. Couldn’t make myself say it. I didn’t want it to be fake.”

Buck must see something in Eddie’s face, because he takes a step closer and cups his cheek.

“Well luckily it turns out it’s not,” Buck says reassuringly, “and as much as I’d love to make fun of you for being such a sap, that actually does simplify things.” Buck’s smile turns shy. “We can just go out there and be real boyfriends.”

Eddie’s stomach swoops. He can feel his face doing something gooey.

“Yeah, boyfriends.”

So Eddie sits at the table, like a real boyfriend. Eats his quiche, like a real boyfriend. Drinks his coffee, like a real boyfriend.

He sits on the couch, Buck melted into his side, while the adults ooh and ah along with Jee-Yun as she reveals her gifts from Santa. He does his best to join in, but his mind is busy wrapping itself around this new reality. He’d spent the day yesterday stealing touches from Buck just like this, but it was so different. Yesterday they really were stolen, impermanent, just a couple sample size doses of joy he thought he could eke out on a weird technicality of his own making.

But somehow Eddie’s bizarre diarrhea of the mouth yesterday had paid off, instead of making Buck irreparably mad at him like he’d feared for a few terrifying moments in the middle of the night, alone in Buck’s childhood bedroom. Today’s touches aren’t stolen, instead they feel like his whole future spilling out in front of him.

Ha ha. Well. If the future was — could be his future if it wasn’t for —- he just can’t think about that right now.

It’s good though. So much more joy than he could ever have imagined when Father Brian told him to drink that juice. More than when he opened the door for Buck, who didn’t say anything about Eddie’s bare legs but did say, quite a while later, Tommy broke up with me, and Eddie had thought oh, that sparks joy, I’m a terrible person.

Maybe he’s not so bad though, because now Buck is twining their fingers together, here, in front of his whole family.

Obviously Maddie’s attention is on Jee, it’s Christmas after all, but as the morning goes on Eddie can feel her stealing glances at him. At him and Buck. He knows his conversation with her last night wasn’t convincing, or coherent even, just him standing in the glow of the stove light trying to stutter out something resembling an explanation.

She’d taken pity on him pretty quickly, stopping him with a firm squeeze of his arm. She’d stared at him for what felt like an eternity. She’s small, but Eddie doesn’t care what Buck says, she’s terrifying. Not from any threat of violence or even sternness, but because Eddie can tell she loves Buck with enough weight to crush them both. Not to mention that big sisterly ability to see right through anything Eddie might try to get past her. Finally, she’d just said Eddie, I already trust you with my brother. Please don’t make me regret it. And then she’d gone back to slicing pie and making chipper small talk.

And that was the scariest part of all, the weight of that trust. The creeping doubt that he deserved it at all.

Eddie looks down at their joined hands. He’s ruined so many things in his life. This can’t be one of them, this won’t be one of them, he won’t let this be one of them, even if—

“Hey, wanna get out of here?” Buck’s mouth is right up against Eddie’s ear, and he startles a little.

Eddie takes a second to process the question, looks around at the spent wrapping paper littering the floor, the family dispersed or having moved on to their own quiet conversations while Eddie was stewing.

“Uh, yeah, you sure?” There’s literally nothing he would rather do, but he doesn’t want to drag Buck away just for his sake either.

“Yep,” Buck says while hoisting himself off the couch, then reaching to pull Eddie up after him. “I think we could both use a break.” He shoots Eddie a flirty grin, “And besides, I want to show you the sights.”

Eddie wants to tell him that the most important sight is right in front of him, but that feels like too much for the middle of the living room, so he just follows Buck out the door.

Eddie loves it when Buck drives him around.

It’s better in Buck’s Jeep, where they both have adequate leg room, but Eddie will take what he can get. And anyway, it’s kinda fun watching Buck navigate the rental, looking comically large smooshed into the seat of a compact sedan.

They drive around aimlessly for awhile, Buck pointing out his elementary, middle, high school, the place he’d crashed his bike and taken the skin off the entire left side of his shin, the entrance to the trail where some hikers had interrupted him going down on Julie Henson and he’d gotten his arm stuck in her underwear as they tried to cover up.

At that last one Eddie shoots Buck a look he knows will make him squirm, and Buck blushes furiously.

After a few more laps around residential streets, Buck gets on the highway, and Eddie’s a little confused when he starts taking exits for the airport. Buck pulls into the cell phone lot though, snuggled as close to the runway as you can get in a car, with a clear view of planes taking off and landing and then straight through to the river. He parks and they sit in silence for a beat.

“You bring Julie Henson here too?” Eddie asks, trying to break the sudden tension that’s been brewing for their past few minutes on the highway.

Buck laughs but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Then just stares out at the taxiing planes.

“No, just myself. Good place to sit and think. Or to remind myself there was a world outside Hershey.” He turns to meet Eddie’s eyes. “So we’re really doing this, huh?”

“I’d really like to, yes.” Eddie feels out of his depth all of a sudden.

“And-and you think we can make it work?” Buck sounds small and vulnerable when he says it, but there’s something steely in his eyes. Eddie knows he’s talking around something, but won’t be the first to say it. Knows this because he’s been talking around it since he waltzed into Eddie’s house and flipped over that goddamned iPad.

“I’d really like to.” Eddie says again, because he doesn’t have a better answer. He should just name it and put them both out of their misery but he just can’t. Not yet.

“And would you like to walk me through the specifics of how we do that?” The steel has reached Buck’s voice now.

“Give me a little time?” Eddie asks, and he can hear the edge of desperation in his own voice. “I didn’t really — I mean I just realized this was even on the table, like, literally yesterday.”

Buck softens a little at that. Exhales slowly.

“Yeah, okay.” Buck nods his head vigorously, not at Eddie but at the planes going by. “No, you’re right it’s too — we can figure it out.” But then he adds, quietly, “It’s just — I mean I’m so happy about this, but I also can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Me too.” Eddie can’t let him think he’s alone in this for a second longer. He reaches across the console to take Buck’s hand. “I’m thinking about it too.”

Buck looks at Eddie softly for a few seconds, then thunks his head back onto the headrest and lets out a chain of, frankly alarming, high pitched breathy laughs, like he’s draining all the anxiety from his body out through his mouth.

“Wooooooooo wow okay,” and Eddie’s genuinely not sure where Buck’s going with this, but he just follows it up with, “that made me hungry. Lunch?”

At that, Eddie’s stomach growls perfectly on cue, like a paid actor. Buck laughs and this time it’s not nervous at all, just warm and rich and so, so Buck.

“Lunch it is,” he says, and turns the key in the ignition.

They pull into the parking lot of a run down diner.

“I know how it looks,” Buck says, “but I swear they have the best fries I’ve ever eaten.”

“Good enough for Julie Henson?” Eddie asks, winking. Buck jams a sharp elbow into Eddie’s ribs.

“I’m gonna regret telling you that story for the rest of my life, aren’t I?”

“I sure hope so.” Eddie says, and then he has to take a couple jogging steps to cut Buck off just short of the curb up to the sidewalk so he can kiss him immediately, right there in the parking lot, his mind snagged on the words for the rest of my life.

He feels a little delirious with it after their conversation at the airport, hopeful.

Buck is laughing as he pulls away and leads Eddie toward the entrance.

“I don’t remember you being this embarrassing with any of your girlfriends,” he teases.

“Guess I just wasn’t down bad enough for any of them.” Eddie shrugs. The more he thinks about it, Eddie’s starting to doubt he was even attracted to any of them, but he’s not ready to try to articulate that surrounded by old people eating tuna melts.

Buck just shakes his head and smiles down at the linoleum as they walk through the door, then makes a beeline for a booth by the window, throwing a nod to the woman working the counter.

She’s eyeing them up intently as she walks over with menus and silverware and Eddie feels a little uneasy. Is this the kind of town where two dudes can kiss in a diner parking lot? Eddie’s never had to consider it before. But when she gets to their booth she cracks a big smile.

“Is that Evan Buckley?” she asks, looking Buck up and down.

Buck rubs at the back of his neck, shy smile on his face. Suddenly Eddie can imagine teenage Buck sitting here drinking a milkshake. He feels a surge of fondness and has to knock his ankle against Buck’s about it, under the table.

“Hi Denise,” Buck says, “didn’t really know if you’d recognize me.” Denise laughs, and Eddie can hear the decades of cigarettes that must have gone into making it sound like that.

“Well you’re a little taller than last I saw you,” she says, “but you’re pretty memorable.” She looks ready to pinch his cheek, and Eddie can’t blame her. “Really, it’s good to see you, kid, you know I always worried about you.” Her eyes flicker over to Eddie. “And who’s this?”

By her tone, she clearly has some idea, must have watched them make their way inside.

“Oh, this is Eddie!” Eddie’s heart swells a little, Buck sounds so excited to be introducing him, “he’s my —“ Buck glances over to Eddie looking for some kind of a confirmation, and Eddie has to cut in —

“Boyfriend. Eddie Diaz, nice to meet you.” Denise takes the hand he’s offering and gives it a firm shake. She looks him up and down again.

“Well, you chose a looker, Evan.” She winks at Buck before walking away, and Eddie is sure they’re turning matching shades of red.

“How is this place even open today?” Eddie asks, suddenly remembering the date. Buck gestures out the window to the sign that says Open 24/7 in boxy red letters.

“They take their status as a 24/7 diner very seriously, Eddie,” he says with mock gravitas, then more earnestly, “plus, Denise always liked collecting strays and the holidays are the best time for it, apparently.”

Eddie knows Buck has been looking for family his whole life, found it with the 118, but sitting here Eddie can see the rough outline of an earlier draft. Maybe the first draft.

“Guessing this isn’t the first Christmas lunch you’ve eaten here?” he asks.

Buck shoots him a wry smile.

“Better with company,” he says, cracking open a menu. “You better start looking, there’s about a million things on here.”

They’re both yawning furiously on the drive back, and Buck nudges Eddie upstairs for a nap as soon as they get back to the house.

“We’re too fucking old for late night love confessions,” he says, pulling Eddie down next to him on the bed. Eddie thrills a little at the way he’s throwing that word around, even if jokingly.

Eddie curls up close and tucks his face into Buck’s neck. It’s his favorite place these days — well, since last night. This morning? He sighs into it and Buck makes a little squawk, he’s so ticklish.

“How the hell am I supposed to move to El Paso now?” He doesn’t mean to break the fragile peace they’d come to in the airport parking lot, but the words have been working their way up his throat all day, like vomit you’re trying to hold back until you find a toilet or a trash can. Tucked away like this, safe, defenses down, they’ve suddenly come spilling out.

Buck pulls back and looks at him, more cautious than he is about almost any other topic. It’s been freaking Eddie out, Buck’s calculated silence about El Paso, the way he couldn’t say it today, even as he tried to confront Eddie about it.

“Listen Eddie,” he starts, “I don’t want to give unsolicited advice here —” Eddie has to cut him off at that.

“Buck, this is literally me soliciting you.”

Buck pulls a moony face.

“Oh really?” He leans in for a kiss, and Eddie gets lost in it for a minute. More than a minute. Eddie finds his way back to the surface though; he can’t let this conversation go unspoken like they so often do. That’s how it took them this long to get here in the first place.

“Buck, listen to me carefully,” he tries to make his voice as firm as possible after being so thoroughly kissed. “I always want to know what you think. About everything. Including Christopher.” Especially Christopher, but he knows that’s too much to spring on Buck right now.

“Uh-okay,” Buck has gone pink. “Well.” Eddie can see the gears turning in his head. “When I was a kid I ran away a few times. Never as far as Chris has managed this time, but…” He trails off.

Eddie takes his hand, it’s intoxicating to be able to do it so freely now.

“I didn’t know that. I guess maybe I saw your escape route though. Last night?” He wants Buck to go on, but doesn’t want to scare away this fragile attempt at honesty.

“Yeah,” Buck laughs half-heartedly, “up to the roof and down the tree. Didn’t always end well.”

Eddie lets the silence unspool, until Buck starts again.

“But see, I only ran away a couple times. Because I — well, it didn’t — I wasn’t getting the result I wanted. My parents didn’t even seem to notice. Or the times they did I just got yelled at.”

Buck closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I just wanted them to come look for me. I wanted them to come get me and bring me home.”

Eddie feels like he’s been dunked in an ice bath, sobered up for the first time since Chris walked out the door. He’s struck dumb at how the first thing Buck has said on the topic, the first sliver of an opinion he’s dared to offer, has slotted in perfectly, the final puzzle piece in Eddie’s way forward. Eddie wants to cry a little at how Buck has been holding back, under the impression that he wasn’t allowed to say the exact thing Eddie needed to hear.

Eddie’s been quiet for too long, because Buck starts up again, too fast and too high-pitched.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. See this is why I — I told you I didn’t — I just really didn’t mean to overstep okay, forget I said anything.”

“Buck,” Eddie has to stop this line of thought in its tracks. “I stand by what I said. I want to hear it all. There’s no overstepping here.” He lifts a finger to gesture to the space between their chests.

Buck doesn’t look like he believes it, so Eddie keeps going.

“That’s actually exactly what I needed to hear, I think. The most clarifying thing anyone has said to me. Your opinion is exactly what I needed, what I need. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t give it. I’m sorry if I made you feel like that.”

Buck opens and closes, opens and closes his mouth, eyes wide.

“I — you didn’t — Eddie it’s—” Eddie shuts him up with a press of his lips. He pulls Buck close, shuffles up the bed a little so he has the leverage to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“We’re gonna go get him.”

And they will.

But for now Eddie holds Buck tight against his chest, and just listens to him breath.

It sounds like he’s almost reached the shore.