Archive of Our Own ^beta

Evan Buckley's terrible, horrible, no-good day is getting worse by the second. So far, he's slept through his alarm, eaten cereal with sour milk, and gained a half percent of fat on his latest DXA body scan. It's not even 9 a.m., and with his upcoming cycle on the horizon, the day's not slated to get any better.

Of course, some of those things are intertwined. In fact, he'd like to blame all of it on the 'rut.' His body has been demanding he take it easy in preparation and fuel up like winter is coming. Any time he hasn't been on a call in the past week has been dedicated to scarfing down snacks and curling up on the nearest soft, horizontal surface in his vicinity. He hasn't even had time to go grocery shopping after begging off his usual weekend trip in favor of a full day huddled under his blankets. It's not like he had Abby to cook for or even get out of bed for — a wound he was desperate to avoid thinking about. If he let himself fixate on it too long, he might push himself over the edge a few days early. And he needed this last shift before his week off, needed to feel just a little normal and joke around with Hen and Chim and Bobby in between doing the job he knows he was made to do.

Unlike the whole rut thing.

Buck's still trying to get a handle on it, really. It only happens twice a year, and he only got 'turned' two years ago. He'd been in Peru then, and more than a little lax about the people he brought to bed and what he let them do to him. But there'd been this...guy who came into the bar he worked at just before last call, sweaty and shivering and so, so scared. Buck hadn't been an EMT back then, but he'd watched Maddie patch him up so many times it felt like second nature. He'd tried to take the man to the doctor, but he'd refused, insisted that Buck was all he needed and por favor, por favor ayúdame, you take care of me, sí? And it wasn't much, but he'd been staying in a private room in a hostel, and that was enough, es suficiente, prometo. Buck had never slept with a man before that, but this one was begging, sobbing for it, and once he closed his eyes it all felt the same — even the prep part, which he hadn't expected, all wet and swollen and oh-so-hot yes yes yes.

The man — Emilio? Maybe Enrico? — had been even more thankful about it, pressing hickies and tears and sweat into Buck's overheating skin as he dragged his lips across jaw and neck and collarbone. He clung to Buck, imprints of crescent shapes breaking the skin across Buck's hips, pulling him closer and closer as he laves his tongue over the apex of Buck's shoulder. Emilio/Enrico cried out and came in minutes, and as he did, sunk his teeth deep into the muscle. Deep enough that there's still a scar there today.

Emilio/Enrico stayed for days, spilling filthy Spanish into Buck's ears and pressing his thumb into the newly sensitive (but already healed?) wound as he rode Buck's cock again and again. They couldn't get out of bed, and Buck didn't really want to, consequences of forgetting his life for a few days be damned. There was something absolutely fucking addicting about this man, something that kept him hard even after three rounds straight, proving himself as capable, a protector, a provider.

Then, on the fourth day — or maybe the sixth? -- Buck had woken to a cold, empty bed, the only reminders of the experience the whole-body ache, the mint-and-lime scent of him drenched in Buck's sheets, and the scar on his shoulder that won't fade for as long as he lives.

That night, he'd gone out and found a beautiful woman to fuck. He'd knotted them together the second he came and promptly had a panic attack into the woman's breasts.

...He got out of Peru pretty fast after that.

He still slept with people when he returned to the states — back then, there was no other option. He learned how to pull the bottom half of his dick out at just the right moment, how to wrap his hand around the base and squeeze so tight that it made him want to cry, making sure it deflated before there were any awkward questions. Maybe it says more about the people he slept with than him that no one was ever any wiser, but that was how he liked it. Getting close with someone wasn't even his goal anymore. It couldn't be, with this abnormality he was too embarrassed to even bring up with his doctor. The only results the internet had given him were about dogs and raunchy romance novels, and a not insignificant part of him was convinced he was some kind of medical marvel that he had no interest in being.

And then there was Abby.

It didn't come up until the second time they had sex. She'd been riding him right over the edge when she begged him to move his hand, to take her deeper, please, Buck, I'm so close. And Buck had tried to stop her, he really did, but his whole body was shaking with his orgasm and his words failed him at the same time she slapped his hand out of the way and took him in.

It was exquisite, the whole of his cock warm and held firm as he moaned and jerked and Abby threw her hands over her mouth to cover her scream of pure pleasure. After, Buck had explained what little he knew and tried not to cry when Abby just held him close and and told him he was the best she'd ever had. She'd stayed calm and patient the entire half hour they stayed tied together and then fell asleep in Buck's arms. By the next morning, she'd been asking him when they could go again.

He'd thought that would be it. That he'd found the perfect woman to accept him without question and want him close even after seeing the worst of him, just like he'd done for her. But then her mom was gone, and she went right alongside her, barely two weeks before the "week of horniness" he'd prepared her for.

So here he was. Alone again, dreading a week of loneliness and begging his walls for a scrap of comfort. A week in a world of haze and desperation as he tried not to claw his way out of his skin and offer up all the soft, bloody parts of him to the first person he comes across. Thank god he wasn't attracted to any of his teammates in that way, or the light buzzing under his skin would probably be unbearable, prickling every hair on his body with electric volts of desire.

"Aw, what's wrong, Buckaroo? Couldn't find the right lighting for your stupid little firefighter picture?" Hen teases as he strides into the bay and toward the locker room. Her, Chim, and Bobby are gathered in a little circle in front of it, probably gossiping about whatever the last shift did wrong (there was always something).

"Sure, let's go with that," Buck sighs as they shift to include him in their huddle. "What's that smell?" he asks as they part and the most delicious combination of smoke and sweat invades his nose. It's so strong it almost burns, like someone used about half a bottle too much of their cologne. And yet Buck can't stop breathing it in.

"Smell? What are you talking about?" Hen raises an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you smell burning toast," Chim taunts. "I'm the one with the brain injury around here."

"Recovered brain injury. We had the whole cake and everything." Hen rolls her eyes. "Hey, maybe you can use that as your icebreaker for the new guy!"

"New guy?" Buck squawks, locking gazes with Bobby.

"Yeah, that sounds great, Hen. 'Hey, new probie, how about I tell you about my brush with death. You got any of those?'"

"Maybe don't lead with that."

"Especially considering he's Army." Bobby adds with a pointed look. It quiets both of them.

"What new guy?" Buck repeats.

Bobby nods toward the locker room, and wow. "Eddie Diaz, new recruit. Managed to lure him away from the 126."

Buck grinds his mouth shut to keep from drooling and flexes his biceps to send his blood anywhere but down. Because now that he sees the man, he knows that the scent belongs to him, knows with shocking clarity that that is what he needs to get through the next week, that he would be so perfect writhing on top of Buck, underneath him, beside and sideways and upside down and any way he wants to be had.

He's never going to make it through this shift alive.

***

Eddie Diaz realizes and accepts he likes men in shockingly swift succession, given it's something that takes him two and a half decades to determine.

What a man, Eddie thinks, shirt half-on, the second he lays eyes on the tall, perfect specimen he comes to know as Evan Buckley. And with a build like that, of fucking course he's an alpha, all hulking and territorial and smelling like the ocean that had been half the reason he decided to move here instead of Chicago or New York. It makes Eddie want to dive in, right here in their weirdly glass-windowed locker room, shove his shoulder in the man's face until he has no choice but to sink his teeth in and claim Eddie as his own.

Jesus Christ, what an alpha. Eddie's grown up around plenty of them, met even more in the Army, and while they all smelled good in one way or another, not a single one of them had him thinking of presenting himself in the middle of an audience.

He should probably stay away for that alone, listen to the sirens going off in his head about what this might mean, but Eddie's never been all that great at listening to his own logic.

The weird thing is, Buck doesn't seem to notice he's an omega — doesn't do that scenting thing alphas do when a new omega enters their territory, doesn't try to take him aside and establish an alliance between their bloodlines — but he does seem to hate him all the same. Well, hate's probably a strong word for it. According to Chimney, Buck's incapable of really hating someone, but he certainly doesn't want Eddie there, all barking and snapping and posturing as he is. But Buck's far from the first alpha to have a problem with Eddie (he'd worked hard to prove himself as strong and capable as any alpha in basic training until they'd begrudgingly accepted him, but that didn't mean they liked him), and unfortunately, he knows exactly how to handle them.

Perhaps he's slightly less prepared to handle a new alpha on the precipice of their rut, but he'll manage. He's a goddamn Army medic, after all, the LAFD's newest probationary firefighter. If he can't handle a little rut attitude, he doesn't deserve the shield he'll spend the next year fighting for.

He only realizes that part in the gym, when Buck gets in his face, looks down on him with that sharp, discerning gaze that makes Eddie feel stripped to the core. It's more than ocean breeze and whatever strong cologne Buck uses to mask his natural scent — there's something smoky underneath, the depth of raindrops sizzling on an open fire, and terrifyingly clear image fills his brain of him and Buck and Chris sitting around a campfire, of them running for cover in their slightly too-small-for-three tent as thunder crackles overhead, of shoving half-burnt marshmallows into their mouths as the fire extinguishes itself and Buck pulls him in for a gooey, oversweet kiss in the rain before following Chris inside.

When Eddie tells him, "We're all on the same team here," what he really means is, I'm so absolutely fucked for you. No matter if it's the hormones or the alpha lure or his own stupid brain. Whatever it is makes it impossible to ignore Buck. He's everywhere, in front of Eddie and in his periphery and even in the dream he manages to snag in an hour lull between calls. Christ, even when he's taking a fucking grenade out of a man's leg with no room for error, he is ridiculously aware of the way Buck's breath stutters when they get too close (the way it doesn't when Eddie extracts the grenade), the way his scent wraps around Eddie like a hug and keeps him stable as he drops the ammunition into a puny box that will do nothing to contain the blast.

And then Buck's hand is in his, and he's saying you could have my back any day, just to toy with him a little more. And then Buck's replying or you could have mine, and Eddie tries to remind himself that cutting out his heart for a man he barely knows is probably a bit extreme, even when it comes to their kind's accelerated mating rituals. And before he can blurt out something insane like come home with me or have my babies, the growling in his stomach gives him the perfect excuse. Bobby and Buck still look at him like he's a little crazy, but it's much better than anything else his brain could construct in this moment of relief and need.

"So, at risk of not quitting while I'm ahead here, I have a question." Eddie says, watching Buck shove half a bland hospital cheeseburger smothered in ketchup down in one bite. They've been granted a fifteen-minute break to get food while they wait for their replacement ambulance to arrive. Though Hen and Chim decided to raid the vending machine, Buck had chosen the near-empty hospital cafeteria full of hours-old leftovers stuffed into to-go containers.

Buck chews, swallows, and raises an eyebrow. "Go on." He decides, already bracing himself to shove down the irritation nearly every question brings by this point in his cycle.

Eddie takes a bite of his own burger before whispering to the sandwich, "Why are you still on shift when it's clear your rut is hours away?" All the blood drains from Buck's face as his brain goes blank. "You have to know it's not good to be interacting with the public in this state."

"This state?" Buck chokes out. Eddie knows about his ruts?

Eddie's body goes lax as he takes a deep, slow breath. "Hey, I'm not trying to confront you or start anything. I just want to make sure you're okay. Is it the department? Bobby didn't seem too bothered when I told him I needed two weeks off every year for medical necessity."

"Bobby knows?" Buck feels his eyes bulge. "You-You told Bobby?"

"What? No! Not anything more than I had to. You know the deal, right?" And as Buck just stares at him like he's an entirely new person, Eddie realizes he may have made a gross miscalculation in Evan Buckley. "Buck," Eddie asks slowly, slouching even further in his seat. "Who's your pack leader? Or your bloodline?"

"My-" And suddenly Buck looks all of fifteen years old: the same age Eddie had been when he'd first presented. "My what?"

Oh, this is bad. "Your-Your parents aren't...you didn't grow up an alpha, did you?" Buck shakes his head. "Fuck. How long have you been one?"

Buck shrugs, folds in on himself in a way a born alpha would never allow themselves to. "Like...two years? Ish? Wait," Buck's head snaps back up to look at him. "You're telling me you were born an...an alpha? Like wolves?"

"Omega," Eddie corrects, ignoring the wolf comment. It might be the easiest way to explain things, but that doesn't mean anyone of their kind liked the comparison much. "But yeah. Pretty much everyone like us is these days. What happened with you? Were you dying?"

"Why would I have been dying?"

Oh no. A fire simmers in Eddie's chest, hotter than the flames from the grenade. "Because that's one of the only reasons we're allowed to change someone. What happened?" Eddie asks again.

"I don't know, okay!" Buck snaps. Eddie backs down immediately, but Buck's already off. "It was just this guy I met in Peru. We...we hooked up—" come out to guy I met hours ago when I haven't to anyone else in my life? Check! "—and he was, you know, kind of out of it, like..."

"He was in heat," Eddie states.

"Yeah, I guess. Stayed with me for like five days straight and bailed." Buck explains, then reaches for his shirt sleeve. "Gave me this, though."

Eddie's face hardens as the prominent scarring on his shoulder is revealed. "What the fuck." he hisses.

"It's not like I told him to!" Buck shouts, back straightening as he bites back a growl. Honestly, a fucking growl.

"I know, Buck, I know you didn't. Sorry. I just wasn't expecting that." And he almost looks...sad? "He shouldn't have done that. It's fucking illegal."

"You have laws?" We have laws?

Eddie shrugs. "Not many. The big ones are 'don't tell people' and 'don't change people without their permission'. I'm sure my Abuela could tell you more."

"Your Abeula? You mean...there's more of you?" Buck asks, something like hope inflating his chest. He'd thought it was just him, a freak in the world destined to live somewhere between fantasy and reality.

Eddie's eyes soften; Buck loves how big and brown they are, and his smile adds a lovely little sparkle to them. "Yeah, Buck. My whole family are like us. Most of us are omegas, but my dad's an alpha. My son's too young to present yet, but I think he will be, too."

And then Buck's eyes go all gooey and open, and Eddie knows he's done for. "You have a son? I love kids!"

Eddie nods, reaching in his pocket for his phone to show Buck his lock screen. "I love this one." And then, just to be clear: "His mom's not in the picture."

"Oh, he's super cute." Buck gushes. "Maybe I can meet him sometime."

Alphas are usually one of two ways — they see kids as a necessity, something to show off as an extension of themselves and their success; or, they're some of the most loving, protective parents on the planet who will do anything to see their kids happy. Eddie's father has always been firmly in the former way, but with any luck, it looks like Buck will swing to the other end of the latter.

Give me a chance, Eddie sends a prayer up to whatever is listening. Let me try with him. "Yeah. Maybe after your rut. Not that I don't trust you or anything — it can be a little overwhelming being around so many strong pheromones when you're so close to the start of rut."

"What do pheromones have to do with it?" Buck asks, entirely focused on Eddie's words.

"We — alphas and omegas — have much stronger pheromones than betas — that's what we call everyone else. Like, I probably have a lot stronger scent to you than I do anyone else."

"You're telling me," Buck scoffs. "Thought it was some stupid expensive cologne."

Eddie forces himself not to preen at the compliment. "It's how I knew you were an alpha, too."

"Really? What do I smell like?" Buck asks eagerly, toes bouncing on the floor.

Okay, Eddie can't help the flush that breaks out on his skin. "Um...really good." He blurts out. "Like rain on the beach and a warm campfire."

"That...is really specific and entirely unhelpful to me."

"Well, what do I smell like?" Eddie shoots back.

Buck leans in and his nose scrunches up. His head naturally leans toward Eddie's shoulder, where their scents are the strongest, and Eddie's breath catches in his throat. "Hmm. Damn it. You smell like smoke and sunshine."

Eddie's heart thrums against his sternum. "In a good way?"

"In a great way," Buck says, mouth now just below Eddie's ear. The tip of his nose sends a spark down Eddie's neck, and they both shiver.

Eddie's gaze fixes on a table of nurses across the cafeteria; except for the kitchen staff, they're the only other people in here. He explains slowly as he watches them, ready to jump away from Buck at any moment. "Buck," he gasps, voice caught in his throat. "This is...this is your rut talking."

"Is it?" Buck asks breathlessly. "I gotta say, I kind of like the way it's speaking."

"Do you," Eddie tries and fails when Buck's cheek settles on his shoulder and his lips press into the crook of Eddie's neck. "You don't have a rut partner?"

Buck hums against Eddie's neck like he can't help it. "That depends," he rasps, "on what exactly a rut partner is."

"Exactly what you think. Someone to be there for you through your rut, make sure you're fed and hydrated and help you get it out of your system."

Buck shrugs. "I thought I would but—" But she's gone. And you're here. And you smell so much better than she did on her best day. "But no."

Eddie's throat keeps working as he swallows down his mouth watering. "Would you like one?"

"Depends on who's offering."

"Me," Eddie chokes out instantly. Most of the things he wants relentlessly like this, he wants for other people. This is one of the only things he can ever remember wanting for himself like this, so all-consuming so immediately. He thinks he's never wanted anything more in his life except for Christopher to be safe. "I'm offering." He slides a hand over Buck's knee under the table. "And if we like it enough, maybe you help me out when my heat comes next month. Consider it part of 'having each others backs', if you want."

Buck sits up and stares at Eddie head-on, mere inches of space between them. "And when we're not in heat-slash-rut?"

Eddie blinks a few times to clear his thoughts — it's clear this is important to Buck. He's asking for something, unsure in a way Eddie's never seen an alpha be before. It's kind of endearing. There was a reason he was with Shannon, another omega, rather than any of the local alphas around his age (there weren't many, but more than most would think. El Paso was something of a hotspot, which is why his family had stayed there). She was more outgoing than most omegas, but she didn't have the know-it-all dominance he'd seen all too often in his father, then mirrored in his classmates. Much as Eddie might wish for someone to make all the decisions sometimes, he would never do well with someone demanding his submission, someone who forced Eddie to put them on a pedestal so large that nothing else could ever compare. Especially now that he had Christopher to think of.

Eddie tries for nonchalance, leaning back in his seat and drawing away from Buck's leg. "At work? Partners, no matter what. I would never compromise the team like that." He insists and watches Buck's expression ease. "Outside of work? Whatever we want to be." He looks away and purses his lips. "Though I should mention that I'm still married. Separated, but married." It's been years since he heard from Shannon, and he has no doubt she hasn't spent this whole time waiting for him, hasn't spent her heats locked up alone and writhing in pain like he has. Besides, the omega in him really doesn't care. Not when Buck is everything he wants in an alpha. Everything he wants in a ma—

Shit.

And that makes Buck relax even more. "Yeah. Like I said, I'm...I don't know. In a relationship, but it's on pause? It's complicated. I don't...I don't know if I have more to offer than work and sex partnership." Though that doesn't really matter to his alpha side, either. He'd take almost anything at the moment, and he certainly doesn't have it in him to deny himself of this exquisite specimen that smells inexplicably like everything he's ever needed.

Eddie laughs and unlocks his phone. "Work and sex partnership. Yeah. Okay, I'll talk to my Abeula. She'll understand and make sure Christopher is cared for. How long do your ruts usually last?"

"Three...no, almost four days."

"Great. And it'll probably hit by tonight, right?"

Buck grits his teeth. He hates how competent Eddie is about everything he's spent years stumbling through. It's as infuriating as it is sexy. "Yeah, probably."

"Cool. I just have to get Chris to school after shift. You usually spend your ruts at home?"

"Umm..." Buck's not sure how to explain his options are a room in a three-bedroom with five people or his exes' apartment.

"You can also come to mine." Eddie rushes to explain. "I did get it with this kind of stuff in mind, so..."

"Really? That'd be okay?" Is this a thing anyone like them would do? Or is it just Eddie? Despite knowing this man for less than one shift, Buck gets the feeling he already knows the answer.

"Sure," Eddie shrugs. "I mean, given we work together, it'd be stupid of you to rob me. And you don't really strike me as a guy capable of killing someone."

"Is that a kind of person?" Buck scoffs. He remembers Eddie's Army background the second his face falls and hardens into something bland and unbreakable.

"Yes," is all he says.

"Yo, Tweedle Dee and Eddie, are you guys coming?" Chimney's voice echoes through the near-empty room. "Your break was over like ten minutes ago! Hen and I have been looking everywhere for you." He holds up his walkie (the same ones Eddie and Buck turned off before they stepped into the ambulance) and tells the radio that they're en route to the truck.

Eddie jumps to his feet in a panic, collecting their trash and dropping it into a trash can on his way to the door. Buck follows, clenching his jaw so he doesn't lay into Chim. Again. "Sorry, guys. I never lose track of time like that." Eddie apologizes.

"Eh, it's all good. First day jitters and all." Chim claps him on the back. "Personally, I always blame Buck for those kinds of things. He's Cap's favorite."

"Sure," Buck rolls his eyes. "And what will you do when I'm not here next week?"

"Easy. Blame Hen." Buck and Eddie exchange a look as Hen comes up behind them and slaps the side of Chim's head. "Okay, I deserved that."

"Just get on the ambulance, Rebar Head."

"'Rebar Head'? Sounds like there's a story there." Eddie smirks. "Actually, there sounds like there should be a story with 'Chimney,' too."

Now, it's Hen and Buck's turn to share a look of glee as the blood drains from Chimney's face. "Now listen, what they won't tell you about that is..." he starts, leading Eddie to the truck and forcing Buck to take his spot on the new ambulance.

***

"Christopher! Come on, we're running late, and I really need us to not be running late today!" A newly familiar voice calls just on the other side of the front door Buck's standing at. Even if Eddie hadn't given him the address in the parking lot after work, Buck thinks he could have scented his way here. That's how in tune he is with Eddie's smell after desperately trying to take his fill in the hospital cafeteria. So in tune that he knows Eddie's going to throw open the door the second before he does. "And you're early." Eddie frowns. "Of course you are."

"Um, sorry?" Buck takes a step back as a new wave of Eddie hits him combined with something a little lighter, a touch softer. Sea breeze and vanilla and home. Oh fuck, they smell like home. "I could wait in my car?"

Eddie huffs and looks behind him as an uneven tapping sound approaches, then turns back and lowers his voice to a whisper. "You think you can handle a 20-minute car ride without trying to jump my bones?"

"Who says 'jump your bones' anymore?" Buck snarks as he considers, forcing down his revelation. Based on what he remembers from the last time, he probably has another hour or two before he's gagging for it. Half that time until his body becomes too uncomfortable for clothes. He can already feel it, the itch under his skin intensifying. It won't stop growing now until he takes the edge off, at least.

"Me, apparently. What do you think?"

"I—"

"Dad?" The tapping sound rounds the corner with a child stumbling between crutches. He's got adorable curls and a Superman backpack hanging off one shoulder. "Can you help me tie my shoes?"

Eddie's gaze breaks from Buck's, nerves shuttered away to make room for a wide smile as he kneels to the child's level. "Of course, mijo. You finished packing your bag for Abuela's?"

"Yeah, it's in my room." Only once Eddie leans over his shoes does his son notice their guests. "Who are you?" he asks, tilting his head like he's sizing Buck up.

Buck musters up the brightest grin he can. "I'm Buck. I'm one of your dad's new coworkers."

Chris's face lights up, and Buck knows instantly he would die for this kid. "You're a firefighter too? Cool! Do you get to drive the engine?"

"Sometimes! Most of the time, though, they have me suited up to go inside. I like the scary rescues."

"Do you ever rescue cats in trees, like in the movies?" And before Buck can answer, he continues on. "I told Dad we should get a cat, but he says they're stinky."

Buck can't help but giggle with the kid, even as Eddie defends himself, claiming he doesn't want to wake up in a bed full of litter. The conversation continues effortlessly as Eddie helps Chris into his truck, and Buck slides into the passenger seat almost without thinking. The kid's magnetic. Eddie was right about the enhanced scent, but it's almost a sidenote when Chris is jumping a discussion about from firefighters to astronauts to constellations and the ocean. It's the kind of mental workout his parents used to chastise him for, but Eddie doesn't say a word. Just lets his smile grow the longer Buck and Chris lose themselves in conversation.

Twenty minutes later, they watch Chris stumble into school until the front door closes behind him and he's far out of sight. Only then does Buck lean back into his seat with a contented sigh. "You really do have the best kid in the world."

"I know, right? I swear, he teaches me something new every day." For some reason, Buck frowns at that. "How are you doing?" Eddie asks. He'd insisted he would be fine to come along for the drop-off, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice.

"What? I'm fine. All good. Well, not all good, but—" Buck's lower lip disappears into his mouth as he looks Eddie over, a spike of heat blurring the space between them with hazy waves until an impatient car horn behind them jerks them back into facing forward. "I'm okay, Eddie." he croaks. "Let's just go."

The tense silence they drive to Eddie's house in is more awkward than any of the competitive posturing Buck's tried in the past 48 hours. Eddie can smell the stress radiating off him that only seems to grow as Bedford Street draws nearer and nearer. He tries to take a few deep breaths on his own, tries to project calm and confidence, but they only bring more of Buck's scent into his lungs, deeper and muskier than it was when they dropped Chris off. He's on the edge of the precipice; at this point, the right words or even the right expression from Eddie would probably send him straight down the rabbit hole.

Even around the boxes scattered throughout the space, Buck can tell Eddie has a nice house. It's all one floor with an open living and dining space, though the only furniture there so far is a small dining table covered in boxes and a velvet blue couch that probably offers the only open sitting room in the house. "It was hard to find something online, but I like it nice enough. The walls were just re-insulated and the neighbors are old enough that they take out their hearing aids at night." Eddie explains, toeing off his shoes at the door while Buck peeks around the corner to the kitchen and glances down a hall with three closed doors. "Bathroom's right there," he points to the door on the left. "My room's the back one." So the door across from the bathroom must be Chris's. "Would you like to...I don't know, set up? Did you bring anything with you?"

Buck shrugs. "Just some clothes in my car. And lube; the normal stuff irritates me."

"Oh." Eddie hums, then shifts his weight. "That's good, then. Though honestly, I doubt we'll need it." Buck blinks at him. "I um...you know. Get pretty wet."

Well damn.

"Not to brag, but...I think we'll need it."

Now it's Eddie's turn to blink at him. "Right." He breathes finally. "Maybe you should go get it now, then."

"Right." He stumbles no less than twice in his haste.

By the time he returns with a small duffle, Eddie's already in bed, spread out across the entirety of it on his back. "I thought about making a nest, but I didn't want to be presumptuous. I know it can be a lot for alphas to be surrounded by scents that aren't their packs'."

Buck just shrugs, unsure what he means by 'nest' and too overwhelmed to ask. "It's fine. I've never had a...a pack? And I've lived with roommates pretty much since this happened. I want you to be comfortable, too, so have at it."

Eddie frowns, stands, meets Buck toe to toe where he still stands in the doorway. Buck freezes when their eyes meet. It's like Eddie's pinning him in place, reading his soul through the windows of his eyes until he finds something worth taking. "Once this is over," he hums, tugging at the hem of Buck's shirt to smooth out the wrinkles. "We're going straight to my Abuela's. You deserve to have a pack like the rest of us."

Buck takes a deep breath as the urge to strip rises. He's been hot all day, but it's starting to get unbearable, sweat seeping into his clothes and making them stick uncomfortably. "I still don't really know what you mean by pack."

Eddie's fingers slide into Buck's belt loops, and he tugs him over the threshold of the room. "It's basically our kind of family. Between the secrecy of it all and the mating imperative, most of us find it difficult to do it alone."

Buck shifts his weight as warm fingertips brush against the hot skin above his waist. "I've been doing most of my life alone, even before this."

"And you're happy with it?" Eddie raises an eyebrow.

Buck huffs, trying to dispel the wave of emotion building up in his chest. "You don't know me. You can't possibly want some stranger to join your fam—pack."

"Sure I can," Eddie shrugs, shooting him an impish little grin. "Chris already loves you, and I know my Abeula will, too — they're excellent judges of character. Plus, after that shift, I don't know that I can call you a stranger. And after this?" His thumbs rub circles just under Buck's ribcage. "I certainly plan to know you better than most."

Buck's breath stutters as the heat in his veins reaches a fever pitch. He's practically vibrating in anticipation, and Eddie's fucking smirking like he knows. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Eddie leans in close, closer, until Buck's eyes flutter shut. He stills when lips graze his earlobe. "For you to ask politely."

"Eddie," he croaks, remembering at the last second there's no wall for him to lean against and pitching forward into Eddie's chest instead. "Please..."

There are more words in his brain, working their way down his nerves and to the edge of his tongue, but that's all that Eddie needs. He releases a breathy, "Good boy," and covers Buck's lips with a heated moan.

Eddie's lips are the sickness and the cure, Buck realizes as his rut explodes against his skin like a firework, bright and hot and echoing in his ears. He sucks out the pain straight from Buck's tongue, but he tastes like liquid ambrosia, and Buck cannot get enough. His body screams for more, take more, take all of him and crack yourself open so he can take you, too.

And well, Buck's too far gone to ignore the instinct.

When he pushes, Eddie goes, stumbles backward with his hands stretching Buck's shirt and he pulls him along until they're both in bed, Eddie pinned between soft and achingly hard. Eddie kisses like he's starving, licking over Buck's teeth and curling their tongues together as they pant into each other's mouths. Buck's no better, rucking Eddie's shirt up under his arms and running his palms flat against the beautiful surface below in a possessive display of mine. At least for now, Eddie is his, and Buck is dizzy at thought of it, overwhelmed with the need to provide and care for and give more than he could ever take. "Off, off," Buck demands when his lungs demand air, pulling at Eddie's shirt so fast he swears he hears it rip. Eddie doesn't seem to care, though — nor does he have the wherewithal to avoid doing exactly the same thing to Buck. "God, you're so fucking beautiful," the words spill out unprompted; it's one of the truest things he's ever said.

Eddie spreads his legs, lets Buck settle in between them like he belongs there as he holds Buck's lower lip between his teeth and tugs. "What do you want from me?" he asks, reaching for the buttons on Buck's jeans.

"God, Eddie," his hips roll against Eddie's hands the second the pressure registers. "Wanna see you come on my dick." Eddie's scent intensifies as he groans, slick leaking between his cheeks and onto the seat of his pants. Buck freezes when it hits his nostrils, a split second of shock before he dives back in with renewed vigor. "Get naked, please get naked right the hell now," he whines.

Eddie chuckles. "You have to get off me before I can do that." Buck whines in protest, burying his nose in Eddie's neck and staying there as he lays his full body weight into Eddie. Their erections brush against each other, and they shiver together, a vibration so in sync that it makes the most beautiful sound. Eddie reaches out for something to tether him, and all he finds is the curve of Buck's body, the perfect arch of his back leading into his ass. He grabs, and Buck's hips hitch. "Get off me, not get me off," Eddie tries.

"Mmm, por que no los dos?" Buck asks, teeth dragging across the mating gland on his left shoulder. Even the suggestion a mark there makes Eddie go pliant, back conforming to the mattress below as Buck moves above him, nipping across his collarbones as he grinds irregularly.

"Buck!" Eddie cries as pleasure floods his system. "No empieces con eso, tendré un orgasmo."

"Perfecto," he smirks against the top of Eddie's pectoral muscle, tongue dragging a wet line down his chest until it circles around his nipple.

"Sí, tu eres," Eddie pants, tangles his hand in Buck's sweat-curling hair as the man goes lax against him. "Ah, te gusta? You want to be my perfect boy, hm?" A canine scratches  his areola and he jolts. "Just like that, querido. God, you're so good at that."

Eddie whines when the pressure leaves his hips, but then Buck's following through, pulling his pants and boxer briefs off simultaneously. He doesn't do the same for himself, though; before Eddie's clothes hit the ground, his cock is engulfed in wet, hot suction. "Shit, yes." Eddie hisses, trying to stop himself from thrusting up.

But then Buck moans around him, and Eddie's body is no longer his own. Buck wraps a beautiful, tensing forearm over Eddie's waist, more for touch itself than to hold him down, lets Eddie thrust shallowly into his throat as his eyes water and he watches Eddie come undone in a blurry haze. He looks so good, like Eddie's pleasure is all he wants, and it fills him better than any knot ever could.

Well, maybe not. Because when Buck drags a finger up the cleft of his ass, it's all he can do to beg for him to go further. And Buck listens so well that he's already got two fingers running over Eddie's hole, collecting slick into his palm until he's nearly dripping with it.

And then he does the unthinkable: he pulls off entirely, eyes dark and plump lips gleaming. Eddie opens his mouth to demand his return, but before he can speak, Buck's hand is back on his cock, spreading slick up the length of it without breaking Eddie's gaze. Not until he leans back down and licks up the underside slow enough to savor the taste.

Holy shit, this man might kill him.

"Fuck, Eddie, all of you tastes so good." He murmurs as he works wet kisses over the head. "Could spend forever right here between your legs."

"Do it, fuck me, come on." he pants, pushing up against Buck's mouth to give him more room behind.

Almost instantly, a finger is back in place, circling Eddie's rim in wet, wide strokes. "Like this?"

"That's...oh...a start." He moans as the finger slides into the first knuckle, then the second.

"God, you really are so wet. This all for me?"

Eddie nods. "Your fault. You're stupid hot."

Buck breaks into laughter, and Eddie is alarmingly smitten. Especially when Buck adds another finger and crooks them forward just so. "Yes, fill me up. Just like that, Buck."

"Working on it. 'S not hard when you open up so nice. I can already tell you're going to take it so well." Buck grins as Eddie grows even wetter, slick sliding down his hand as he stretches Eddie open. "It wasn't like this before."

"Yeah, well. Forgive me when I say whoever that asshole was that bit you was a sorry excuse for an omega." Though the smallest part of Eddie wants to hunt him down and thank him before beating the absolute shit out of him. Buck hasn't even gotten naked yet, but the bulge in his pants is enough for Eddie to know that he's about to experience the most perfect cock the world has ever seen.

He doesn't get to see it until Buck's got four fingers stretching him out, somehow avoiding that lovely little spot inside even though Eddie feels so stuffed there can't possibly be more space in there. But when Buck uses his free hand to slide the front of his pants down until the rest of it follows, Eddie knows he'll find room — he'd carve out a kidney or spleen if it would help, say goodbye to alcohol forever and put his liver right in Buck's hands just to make space for him inside. "God, please, Buck. I know you need it." He can tell by the way the base of Buck's cock is already red and swelling, begging to get lost inside a wet, aching hole.

"Wanna make sure you're ready." Buck insists, unable to pull his gaze away from where they're connected long enough to see the burning need pulsing through Eddie, flushing his skin and blaring across his face.

"I'm ready, I swear." He reaches for Buck's wrist to still it, forcing him to meet Eddie's eyes. "If you don't fuck me in the next ten seconds, I'm holding you down and riding you until I'm done."

The words hit him like a physical blow, drawing out a gasp as he withdraws his fingers. "That sounds more like a reward than a punishment," he claims, but uses his overslicked hand to lube up his cock.

"You say that now," Eddie mutters, images of Buck crying for release under him making his cock kick in agreement.

"And somehow, I doubt I'll change my mind." Then, his eyes drift closed as he rubs the head against Eddie's loose hole. "Shit, Eddie." he whines, teasing himself as much as he is his partner.

That is, until Eddie scoots his hips forward until the tip slides in and the largest part of the head stretches his rim. "Yes," Eddie moans in relief, like it's his heat they're here to satiate. "Keep going, wanna feel you whole in me."

Buck twitches against him, but obliges, inch by goddamn inch. "Jesus, you're so tight."

"I bet," Eddie tries not to whimper. "Never had a big alpha cock like yours."

"Fuck," the last few inches come all at once, punching out all the air in his lungs as Eddie feels it there, in his stomach and liver and throat, too. It makes his heart pound in relief and need simultaneously. "Really? How come you know so much about them, then?"

"Pack education," Eddie says too quickly, cheeks cherry red as he conveniently leaves out the underground market of alpha/omega romance books the women of their kind trade like candies. He'd snuck more than a few from Abuela's collection during his weekends with her as a teen. It was how he realized he liked the idea of an alpha's knot way more than he did anything else about them. At least, until now. Maybe it's just Buck's rut hormones making him feel insane about the man — he guesses he'll find out when it's all over. "Now move." Eddie commands, and Buck listens without a second thought.

The distraction of Eddie's cock in his mouth, of his fingers taking Eddie apart, had been enough to stave off the heat thrumming up his spine, but now that Buck's inside Eddie like this, he can't quite understand how he spent so long without it. Because Jesus Christ, Eddie is as perfect inside as he is out, all hot and slick and as dripping with need as Buck is, cock leaking and pulsing against Eddie's walls as they cling and urge him deeper. The slide out and back in is absolutely impeccable, and as Eddie's ankles lock together around his back, Buck feels his sanity slipping, leaking out of his brain and down past his heart until it settles into his pelvis, directing him to thrust and grind and move, heavier and harder as Eddie cries out, just as lost in the feel of it.

And like, Buck's checked out a lot of asses in his life, of women and men and everyone in between, and he's never seen one as perfect as Eddie Diaz's, and it's driving him fucking crazy, the fact that he's the one sliding between those plump cheeks, the one whose hands are grabbing at them and lifting them up to get in deeper. He's the one who gets to hear the sexiest, most pitiful moan Eddie releases when Buck pounds his prostate for the first time and he clenches around Buck so tight he can barely move. "Yes, yes, yes!" Eddie chants, rolling his hips in time with the movement, letting Buck feel every bit of muscle in the man's ass and thighs. He wants them squeezing around his waist every day for the rest of his life, wants to hear the little whimpers of pleasure Eddie's swallowing down between demands for more and faster and harder and please, Buck. The entire city of LA could gather outside Eddie's house and all Buck would be able to do is fuck forward, cover Eddie's body with his own until they tumble over the edge together and his omega is content and ready for more.

"You fuck me so good, Buck...oh, oh, oh...I'm gonna come, do it harder, fuck, fuck!" he pants, hands twisted in the sheets as his cock bounces deliciously between them.

"Yes...touch yourself for me, baby." Buck begs.

Eddie throws his head back, thrashing on the pillows. "Don't wanna." He shakes his head. "Just want you. Make me come, Buck."

"Yeah, I can do that," he groans, fixing his hold on Eddie and lifting him up against until he's practically screaming every time Buck thrusts back in.

"Yeah, yeah, god, Buck, yeah, dios, please, please, please," he begs, shaking apart at the seams. His eyes squeeze shut as his hips hitch desperately, and when Buck grazes his prostate again, he stays there, swiveling in circles against it until Eddie breaks.

He comes beautifully, a live wire of lighting that trembles through him and electrifies Buck, forces him to keep moving as Eddie's cock twitches and spurts pearly white right in front of him. Buck runs his hands up Eddie's sides, lowering him easily to the mattress as he murmurs in broken Spanish and clenches rhythmically over Buck's cock.

"So beautiful, Eddie. Muy hermoso. That's it, I've got you. Te tengo."

"Buck," he croaks as soon as language returns to him. "Oh, god, Buck, you were so good for me." he reaches out, finds purchase on Buck's forearms and doesn't let go. He shifts a little, legs falling to the bed, and Buck whines as he slides out. "You didn't knot?" Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"Not yet," Buck replies tightly. Now that Eddie's finished, his mind is spinning with his own need.

Eddie smirks, spreads his legs a little further. "Well, don't stop on my account. Finish what you started."

Buck jolts at the command, and before Eddie can prepare himself, he's flinching as Buck slides back into his raw, swollen hole. "Okay?" Buck's eyes widen in concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Though I do believe I asked to be filled." Eddie taunts, and as expected, Buck responds with darkening features and snapping hips.

Eddie knows it's going to happen before Buck does, his entire body a tense line against Eddie's own as he loses his balance and collapses into Eddie. Still, he's moving hard and fast, possessed with the idea of filling Eddie, of locking them together and making the whole house smell like them, intrinsically linked and magnificently sated until the next round brings them closer again, like aftershocks of a tsunami consuming them before they can recover from the first wave.

He can't wait.

"Yes, Buck, come for me. You earned it, fucking me so damn well. Never felt anything like you inside me. You've ruined me for any other alpha." This draws a ferocious growl out of Buck's throat. "Oh, no? You want to be the only alpha that makes me come, huh?" He moves even harder — hard enough that Eddie has to put a hand on the headboard to keep from moving up. "Just you and me, yeah? You — shit, Buck, think I could get off again just watching you fuck me." He babbles as the pleasure of Buck, so focused on finding his own release, goes straight to his oversensitive dick.

"Eddie," Buck sighs, mouthing over his shoulder in the same place as before. Eddie hadn't even gotten around to telling him about the glands there, but his instincts have figured it out for him.

Gently, Eddie directs his head closer to his neck, the air puffing against his skin making him shiver. "Here, bite me here." Eddie offers, holding him in place by his hair.

Buck moans, and on the next slide in, Eddie feels it — the pulsing bulge that stretches him to his maximum. Buck thrusts harder to wedge himself inside, and as soon as pops inside, Eddie can't help but cling to it. "Yes, Buck, yes, come on, be a good boy and come for me."

Buck sobs, loud against Eddie's ear, and stills as his teeth sink into the juncture of Eddie's neck and shoulder, just clear of the place that would actually tie them together forever. Shannon bit him there once, ages ago on their wedding night, just as he had her, but it hadn't stuck like it was supposed to, given they were both omegas. It's why being away from her didn't hurt deep inside, make him feel like he was missing part of his soul when he boarded a plane to Afghanistan either time. They weren't mates — not like he could be with Buck.

Jesus, these hormones are getting out of hand. Watching Buck lose himself to bliss as he locks himself with Eddie might just be worth it.

When he comes back to himself, Buck rolls them so they're both laying on their sides. Eddie frowns at the loss of Buck's weight over him. "Hey, I was comfortable like that."

"Shut up. I didn't want to crush you."

"I was consenting."

"Well, I wasn't," Buck insists, pushing sweaty strands of Eddie's hair out of his face. "You're too pretty to crush."

And despite himself, Eddie blushes. "You already got me in bed; no need to lay it on thick."

Buck hums. "Maybe I want to. You're cute when you squirm."

"And you're a menace." Eddie shoots back. "Are you like this all the time?"

"Like what?"

"Like a dog with a bone."

Now, it's Buck's turn to blush. "Hen calls me a golden retriever sometimes."

"Not a guard dog? Because you seemed pretty territorial to me."

"Oh, whatever." Buck rolls his eyes. "I thought you were here to replace me."

"Yeah, well, your entire team would have something to say about that. They spent the whole shift trying to convince me to give you a chance even though you looked like you wanted to kill me."

"And look at us now," Buck smirks, wiggling his hips just enough for Eddie to feel it and groan.

"Don't make me put you on a leash," Eddie warns, and Buck laughs, trying to obscure the whine his words produce.

It doesn't work.

As soon as Buck's knot goes down enough for them to separate, he's ready for round two. Eddie can see it in his eyes, the way he wants to beg Eddie to stay there when he suggests getting something to eat and drink from the kitchen. By the time he returns with two water bottles and mini bags of chips, Buck is ready to pounce. He manages to hold on to himself until Eddie gets within arm's reach of the bed; then, he's grabbing Eddie by the waist and dragging him in for a hungry, searching kiss.

The bottles and bags drop to the floor as Buck pulls Eddie on top of him, bodily settling him so he's straddled over Buck's rehardened cock. "Need you to ride me, now." he explains, the sounds muffled between their lips, and Eddie feels his body prepare immediately, growing slick to welcome him in.

This time, they're both too hyped up to tease. Eddie sets his knees so he's stable, reaches behind him to hold Buck's cock up, and sinks down in one smooth move. Together, they groan and fuse their lips back together as Eddie tries a few gentle bounces to get the hang of it. "Like this, cariño?" Eddie asks, already breathless.

"Mhm, but more." Buck opens their mouths so their tongues can move the same way, filling Eddie's mouth before Eddie fights back, pushing them into Buck's. It's a display of dominance Buck knows he's going to lose from the start, and goes happily, letting Eddie devour him as he grunts and groans above him. There's just something about being ridden that gets Buck going every time, something about the way he can sit back and watch as someone loses themselves in him. He both wants and needs them to take everything he has to give, to use him the way they want as they hold him in place like they need him right there. Still, he's never been ridden like this before, with such abandon that Eddie has to push him out of their kiss and down against the mattress, bracing his palms over Buck's chest so he can fuck himself as hard as he wants.

"This what you wanted?" Eddie pants out between shallow breaths. "For me to take your cock for a ride?"

"Yeah, Eddie, so good at it," he gasps, knowing he's going to have bruises on his hips for days from the way Eddie drops his weight against him. "Fucking hell, you look so pretty on top of me. Think you were made just to ride me," he babbles, watching Eddie's cheeks jiggle against the dips of his hips.

Eddie throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on moving, focuses on lowering himself into Buck's lap over and over and over again, words spilling out of his mouth in a repetitive pattern that he can't quite make sense of. His thighs quiver in pleasure-pain as that glorious, fat head of Buck's cock punches into Eddie's prostate and he lets himself take as Buck's thumbs dig into his hip bones.

"Don't," Buck whines beneath him. "Eddie, please." his voice breaks as he throws a hand over Eddie's mouth, clenching his jaw and stopping the flood of words — well, two words, Eddie's coming to realize as he mouths them against Buck's sweaty palm.

Mate-me-mate-me-mate-me, in time with every rise and fall of his body. Oh, hell.

Unsure of how to stop himself, Eddie throws himself forward until he's chest to chest with Buck, pulling his arm out of the way so he can bite the words into Buck's lips. Buck's knees rise up to give himself some leverage, lifting his hips in time with Eddie's to make up for the lost momentum. They move in perfect sync, loud clap, clap, claps echoing against the walls as Eddie devours Buck's mouth with his tongue and Buck uses his not-insignificant upper arm strength to help Eddie move against him.

They barely settle into the makeout before Buck breaks them apart with a grunt, hands tightening into Eddie's skin. "Fuck, I'm gonna come," he pleads. "Need you Eddie, please."

Eddie keeps riding, ignoring the burning in his muscles by trailing kisses across Buck's jaw and down his neck. When he gets close enough, he can't help it: he drags his sharp canines over Buck's mating gland, hotter and swollen compared to the rest of his skin.

"Yes, there, Eddie, bite me there, oh fuck, please, please, please." Buck sobs as the itching under his skin turns to static, lighter but no less consuming.

"Shut up, shut up," Eddie mouths against him. "We can't."

"You want it, I want it," Buck cries.

"Of course— you're— in rut..." Eddie explains even as his coming orgasm fires every synapse, leaving none available for thought.

"Don't care, give it to me, fuck me forever just like this." He forces himself upright, wrapping both arms tight around Eddie so they can barely move. What matters more is they're touching everywhere possible, from their tangled ankles to Eddie's back against Buck's thighs and their nipples rubbing together in an entirely new kind of tease. "Wanna make you mine. My omega." His voice dips and Eddie feels him losing himself.

He doesn't think Buck's doing it on purpose, the alpha voice. He probably doesn't even know what it is. But it's melting every part of Eddie's brain, and as Buck's knot locks them together a second time, pulsing perfectly against his prostate, Eddie lets himself fall into Buck's skin and bury his teeth right where he shouldn't.

"Oh, fuck, Eddie!" He shouts, grinding up like there's anywhere for him to go and licking over Eddie's own gland like he'll be able to taste blood through it.

"Do it, Buck, finish it," Eddie commands, and Buck follows without question.

Eddie's pretty sure his vision whites out as Buck bites at the same second his orgasm hits. He quakes around Buck's knot and might even scream, but his ears are just as useless as his eyes as every molecule in his body breaks apart and reforms around Buck, making his pleasure Eddie's, his needs as essential as Eddie's own. Oh god, it's so good, feeling Buck's soul mingle with his, and he thinks even if they end up hating each other after all of this, he'll never be anything but thankful for this moment of complete fulfillment, inexorably connecting them for the rest of their lives.

The aftermath is much quieter this time around — at least, outside Eddie's brain, it is. Inside him is...turmoil. It's Abuela and his mother and father shouting over each other, screaming to know what he's done and how stupid can you be? It's Shannon, hundreds of miles away, questioning what about Christopher? like she's not the one who left this open to happening in the first place.

"So...mating, huh?" Buck asks, voice creaking and hoarse. "Sounds pretty serious."

Eddie swallows, stares at the ceiling. "It is."

"Like...marriage serious?" Buck treads lightly, and Eddie can't tell whose sake it's more for.

"More." Eddie risks a look and finds Buck's face blank. "It's um...a forever thing."

Buck's eyes widen. "Really?"

Eddie knows his smile is watery. How the hell is he supposed to make Buck happy when he's never been able to do so for anyone else? "Yeah. We should have talked about it before, I just...even in heat, I've never been so gone like that. I didn't think it would be a problem."

"Is it?" Buck asks, holding his breath. "A problem?"

Eddie forces himself to exhale in hopes of getting Buck to do the same. It works. "I don't know. I guess that depends on how okay you are with having a permanent partner and kid."

Buck bites his cheek, but the other corner of his lip still tilts up. "I mean, Chris is pretty cool. And we did say we'd have each other's backs. And fronts, I guess," Buck jokes, looking down as their entanglement. "But aren't you already married?"

Eddie shrugs. "She hasn't spoken to me or Chris in years. If she ever comes back, I guess we'll deal with it then." Buck's eyes brighten at the use of 'we.' "What about you? Your 'complicated' relationship?" he asks politely, even though Chim had given him the whole rundown less than an hour into shift.

Buck sighs. "I don't know. She was supposed to come back months ago, but...I don't know that she ever will. If she does, I guess we'll deal with it then."

Eddie laughs at the repetition. "Good plan. For now," he shifts, trying to ease the ache in his knees without sending them into another hot and heavy round. "I guess we get through your rut and...figure it out?"

Somewhere out there, Buck knows Bobby is going to lose his mind. We might end up real close. Way to go, Buckley. Still, some minuscule part of him is rejoicing at the thought of a forever thing. That maybe for once, someone won't ever leave.

Buck kisses over Eddie's gland, relishing the shiver it evokes. "Yeah. We'll figure it out together."

Eddie cracks his own smile, running his hand over Buck's hair. "Together. I like the sound of that."

And who knows? Maybe those romance books were right: that the best mates are the ones you never saw coming.