Archive of Our Own

Despite what his sister Maddie might believe, Buck doesn’t think about kissing his straight best friend all the time.

He has plenty of other things to do besides picturing how devastatingly sweet would be to kiss those rosy, slightly chapped lips – always shiny because of the coconut-flavored chapstick Buck gave him a couple of weeks ago.

For the good of his heart, obviously. Because he deeply cares about his friend’s skincare routine. That’s all.

Buck definitely doesn’t spend every waking moment wishing he could explore Eddie’s mouth like an adventurer who’s just discovered a place no one’s ever seen before. He certainly doesn’t wonder about how his lips would taste, how his hands would feel pressed on the skin of his hips, or how their breaths would inevitably mingle, fusing into one with their faces impossibly close.

He has a life full of responsibilities and trauma to think about. Sure, his mind slips more times that he’d like to admit – but when you have someone like Eddie Diaz as a best friend, it gets ridiculously hard to avoid feeling things. 

Not that it’s his fault. He simply can’t always control the direction of his thoughts.

Does he want to kiss his straight best friend? Yes, obviously.

Does he think about it all the time? Debatable. And does all the time include sleeping?

So, Maddie is partially right but it’s extremely important for Buck’s sanity to remind himself that he’s perfectly able to stop thinking about it whenever he wants. He just…willingly chooses not to do it. Most of the times.

One thing for sure: Buck has no intention of telling anyone. His sister and his friends would tease him to no end - like they already do every time they catch him staring at Eddie’s face like a starving puppy waiting to receive a snack from his owner.

And Eddie is straight. Totally, unmistakably, painfully straight. He’d probably turn him down in the sweetest possible way, and Buck wouldn’t even have the strength to hate him – no matter how easier it would be for his heart.

He’s so in love with him that Buck would let Eddie twist the knife again, and again, practically handing it back to him with a lovesick, please-ruin-me-some-more smile, happily encouraging him to finish the job.

Buck tries to preserve some dignity, truly, but it feels like the universe enjoys mocking him for some kind of unknown reasons – and honestly? It’s just sad, at this point.

Not only the universe, but even his Tik Tok algorithm must love to make fun of him because it keeps shoving videos of happy couples doing shitty trends even right into his face – no matter how many times he aggressively reports them for “inappropriate content.”

For each silly kiss he sees on that app, his mind immediately supplies him with a parallel version of the scene starring Eddie doing the same exact thing with him, and it cracks something in his chest every single time.

Because Buck knows with painful certainty that he could never even hope for something like that to happen. It’s probably the worst kind of slow, stubborn agony to endure for so many years but it’s fine, really.

Buck already made peace with it a long time ago – moving on is not an option for him. Never was and probably never will.

It gets absolutely worse with those stupid trends like “kissing my best friend to see what they do”. Every time one pops up, Buck’s brain short circuits and becomes stupid, devolving into a loud, hopeless, internal shouting match between logic and the unstoppable, feral, extremely romantic monster living into his ribcage.

No, Eddie is not just scared of coming out, and no Eddie isn’t just waiting for the right moment to confess his undying love for him, and absolutely no, Eddie is not going to grab his face and rewrite the laws of physics with his mouth.

But of course, Buck would never have the courage to try it. He could ruin everything between them. Eddie could kick him out of his life, refusing to see him ever again, making sure Buck would never be able to meet with Chris anymore and – well, okay, maybe it wouldn’t be that catastrophic, but Buck’s always had a knack for drama.

It’s just awfully cruel that his algorithm keeps poking at his already broken heart like this, as if life hadn’t already done enough damage on its own.  

A video of the same trend appears, and Buck’s thumb hovers uselessly over the screen, uncertain. He wants to skip it. He really does but deep down he knows he’ll watch it anyway because he’s a self-destructive idiot with abandonment issues and a PhD in emotional self-torture.

Another plays. Then another one.

Some are awkward, others blatantly staged. One ends with two blushing girls giggling into each other’s necks, panting like they just ran a marathon. Another features two guys fake wrestling to avoid the moment, only to end up exchanging kisses on the cheeks while laughing.

Buck watches every single one with a weird ache in his chest that he tries to ignore, like he’s stuck in a courtroom where his feelings are being used as evidence against him and his poor life decisions.

Then, a video in particular catches his attention.

It’s shot in a bathroom with horrendous lighting and dried toothpaste splattered on the top right corner of the mirror – crusted like fossil evidence of poor dental habits. A girl in an oversized sweater is finishing up her mascara, humming softly, while a guy with round glasses and curly hair leans against the counter besides her, rambling about something trivial, fingers tapping in a mindless rhythm on the porcelain of the sink.  

He gets interrupted a second later by the girl who suddenly turns and kisses him straight on the lips. For half a second nothing happens. Then, he moves – fast, hands seizing her waist, mouth crashing back into hers with unrestrained hunger, like something inside of him finally snapped into place and all restraints never existed to begin with.

Buck’s breath stutters, heat blossoming low in his stomach, as his mind helplessly drags him into a different bathroom with different people.

He sees Eddie’s eyes darkening with shock, slowly filling with ravenous hunger. He pictures his palms bracing his hips against the counter, forearms caging him in, lips devouring him like oxygen is optional as long as Buck stays there, like it’s the only way to make his lungs work.

“What’s this?”

“Shit.”  Buck’s heart jump into his throat, startled by the sudden voice behind him. “You almost gave me a heart attack, man!”

“It’s not my fault you were so focused on that thing you didn’t even notice me.” Ravi shrugs, sitting comfortably on Buck’s left side on the couch.

“You should be asleep.” Buck mutters, exhaling sharply.

His cheeks are still colored with pink – a gentle mix of surprise and mild humiliation of being caught watching those kinds of videos on Tik Tok.

“So, what were you watching?” Ravi asks instead, a little smirk playing on his lips, getting comfortable with criminal levels of curiosity.

“Nothing!”

“That doesn’t look like nothing to me.” Ravi leans closer, voice lowering conspiratorially. “You can talk to me, man. If it’s porn, I promise I won’t make fun of you…maybe.”

“You’re not funny.” Buck scoffs. Then, he bumps his shoulder into Ravi’s, a weak attempt at intimidation that completely fails when his friend bursts into unapologetic laughter. “It’s not porn. It’s just a stupid trend on Tik Tok.”

Buck debates with himself for a couple of seconds – loud enough to have subtitles –then, against his better judgement, he shoves the phone into Ravi’s waiting hands, jaw tight and face unreadable, already bracing for impact.

“Well,” Ravi snorts after silently watching it. “Why do I feel like this has something to do with-“

“Stop it.” Buck snatches his phone back, glaring at him. “It’s just a video.”

“So, you weren’t moping around?”

“Me? Moping?” Buck throws his arms open dramatically, forcing a wide smile on his lips. “Can’t you see how delighted I am? I’m glowing.”

Ravi studies him for a heartbeat, tilting his head, squinting his eyes a little like he’s trying to solve some sort of ancient mystery. Buck is, indeed, glowing – just not from delight, or happiness. More like residual warmth of mortifying fantasies and humiliating lies.

“Nice.” Ravi smiles at him, nodding with fake understanding. “For a moment I thought you wanted to try that trend.”

“What?” Buck lets out a panicked, hysterical laugh. “Not happening. Nope. Never.”

“Why? It’s just a dumb joke.” Ravi’s expression turns into mock concern, softly gasping in exaggerated surprise. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Buck stares at his him. He’s trying very hard not to give in because he knows what Ravi wants to do. He absolutely won’t fall into his trap like an idiot. It happened other times before, but now it’s different – growth is real, okay? He is a changed man. One week is a long time to evolve and be a better version of himself.  

“Ravi.”

“I get it, man.” Ravi sighs. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed.”

“I’m not-“

“I bet you wouldn’t get Eddie to kiss you, anyway.”

“I’m- what?”

Ravi smirks slowly, like a man lighting a fuse and admiring the spark. Buck knows he’s doing it on purpose. He really does. But his friend is also perfectly aware of which buttons to press to turn his sparks into flames, and it’s frankly unfair how easy is to destroy his self-preservation.

“It’s true.” Ravi continues, leaning back against the cushions as he smugly stares at Buck. He stretches his arms along the top of the couch, crossing his legs. He’s like the Joker, pressing the button of chaos only to sit back and enjoy the explosion. “I mean, Eddie is straight, right? You’d never manage to-“

“I obviously can.” Buck snaps, sitting straighter. His damned, obscure competitive instinct flares to life in his chest like a defibrillator to the ego. “It’ll be the easiest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Alright.” Ravi raises a brow, grin widening. “I’ll believe it when I see it, then.”

Buck glares at him, affronted, and catastrophically predictable.

He hates him. So much.

But also? He is absolutely going to do it.

Attempts #1

Now that he’s spectacularly fallen right into Ravi’s trap, Buck knows there’s no way out of this mess unless he manages to get his super straight best friend to kiss him.

Sure, he could do nothing and spare himself Eddie’s unbearably sweet rejection, but he definitely wouldn’t survive Ravi’s teasing. His patience has been running dangerously thin these days – probably the emotional equivalent of a frayed electrical wire sparking at the slightest provocation.

Besides, if he kisses Eddie, he might finally stop thinking about it all the time. It could be therapeutic. It could give him closure.

A part of him is one hundred percent convinced it’ll only make things worse, like opening a Pandora’s box filled with emotional damage, trauma, and rainbow glitter. Buck is stubborn enough to ignore all the warning signs, though.

He doesn’t think he needs complicated plans or grand gestures. Buck just wants to get this over with fast – like stripping off a band-aid from an old wound.

Ideally, Eddie won’t even have time to react, so that Buck can pretend it’s just a dumb trend to laugh about. And hopefully, his best friend won’t punch him right in the face for it.

So, improvisation. Great actors always know how to brandish that weapon, and tonight Buck feels strangely confident. He’s going to wield a two-handed sword and tame the beast with zero sweats.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?

That feeling is, without a doubt, the universe’s way of whispering that it’s going to go horribly. 

It’s too late to back down now, though. So, here comes nothing.

Buck sets his phone on the counter where he’s chopping vegetables for dinner, angling the camera to capture his entire frame. He checks the chicken baking in the oven, golden and crispy just like the Diaz boys enjoy, and sips some water to give himself some courage.

He can do it.

“Eddie! Can you come here a moment, please?”

“Comin’!”

Buck braces himself, schooling his expression into something neutral – casual, relaxed, not screaming I am seconds away from an emotional implosion.

He resumes chopping carrots, though the cuts come out a little uneven because of the traitorous tremor in his hands. He wishes he wasn’t this nervous, but his heart doesn’t seem like wanting to cooperate. It probably didn’t get the memo in time.

“Do you need help?” Eddie comes up behind him with no warnings, chin settling onto his Buck’s shoulder, hands firmly pressed on his hips – grounding, steady, the kind of touch that comforts without needing words.

Buck, lost in the tangled maze of his own panicked thoughts, jumps at the contact, just enough for the knife to slip right into his finger instead of the carrot. The sting is almost immediate, just like the warmth pooling on his cheeks for the friendly half-hug his friend gave him.

“Fuck.”

“Shit, are you okay?” Eddie immediately grabs his hand to examine the cut, a worried expression flashing into his dark eyes.

“Yeah, it’s just a cut, Eds. Don’t worry.” Buck bites his bottom lip as he watches Eddie fussing over him. It’s a little hilarious – partly because of his bad luck, mostly from the fact that Eddie is acting like Buck just got impaled instead of lightly injured by a vegetable.

A beat passes and Buck considers it. He could kiss him now and get away with it. It’d be fast. Casual. He did say improvisation, after all.  

“I always worry about you. You should be more careful, darlin’. You could’ve sliced your finger open.”

Buck’s face ignites – an explosion of pink spreading across his cheeks, blooming like dawn breaking too fast. Hearing the friendly endearment makes his heart pound dramatically in his chest, so fast and loud that he’s scared it might detach from his ribcage, sprout wings, and evacuate his body.

“R-right.” He manages with an embarrassing squeak.

“So clumsy.” Eddie dramatically sighs before letting out a fond chuckle. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Shut up!” Buck’s system short-circuits. Is he flirting? No. Definitely not. Eddie’s just being Eddie – affectionate, soft, infuriatingly pretty and straight.

Eddie gets away to retrieve the first kit aid under the sink in the kitchen and Buck sucks the bead of blood at the side of his finger. The metallic taste almost grounds him as he tries to calm his riotous pulse, whispering non-sensical reassurances that do nothing to actually help him.

The universe, in response, does not care.

Eddie returns with silly Pokémon band-aids held up like prizes in a game show.

“So, pikachu or squirtle?” Eddie asks, brows arched, voice dripping with faux seriousness.   

“Really?” Buck gasps, blinking at him, almost pouting.

“What?” Eddie deadpans, fighting a grin. “You need emotional support Pokémon.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t even ask which one I want.” Buck fakes annoyance and betrayal, but his lips twitch despite himself. He can’t never stay mad at him. Not even for pretend. “What kind of best friend are you?”

Eddie laughs and gently wraps the cut with a band-aid full of mini, cheerful Charmanders. Obviously, he knew already which one to use. He just wanted to tease him.

Buck’s heart melts at that. It’s stupid, okay? He knows it but – Eddie remembers his favorite Pokémon starter.

How can Buck not be in love with him? It’s impossible.

It’d be a crime not to love him like a Patroclus worshipping every step his Achilles takes, like an Icarus building wings out of wax just to get a glimpse of his beloved sun’s warmth.

Buck is really a lost cause.

Then, Eddie lifts Buck’s hand, eyes softening at the edges, and presses a gentle, lingering kiss onto the band-aid, feather-like lips brushing the covered wound with reverence and tenderness.  

Buck’s thoughts evaporate instantly from his brain, leaving behind only fog and static whirring loudly in his ear, like a radio tuned to Buck Buckley’s miserable life FM: has his straight best friend gone nuts or our Buck’s daydreaming fantastic scenarios once again?

“I kissed it better, so it’ll heal faster.” Eddie’s lips stretch into a teasing smile, probably noticing his flustered reaction and Buck wants to die. Slowly. Painfully. Poetically.

Preferably turning into dust and blowing dramatically out the nearest window, or going out like a stunning red Camelia, its bloom falling whole and brought away by the peaceful waters of a river, like a samurai finally meeting a noble, honorable death.

“Thanks.” Buck croaks, throat tight.

“So, you wanted help?”

“Yeah, please.”

Eddie smiles at him, probably clueless to his terrible internal turmoil, and Buck thinks he’ll never get a real closure. Not even in death. He’s ruined.

Despite everything though, he’s not going to give up that easily. Next time he’ll definitely succeed.

Attempt #2

Since his first attempt failed spectacularly, this time Buck makes sure there’s no chance a knife or his own clumsiness can get in the way.

Chris went to bed after the usual movie night – they watched Toy Story because Buck had absolutely no idea what it was about, and Chris looked at him like he’d just admitted he believed Earth is flat. So, naturally Buck had no choice but to sit down and be educated by Pixar.

Now, Buck sets up the camera on the coffee table, phone propped against his half-empty mug of mint tea, long gone cold because he’d been too enthralled by Woody and Buzz being dramatic idiots to notice they got left behind at a gas station to think about drinking. The tea sits abandoned, much like Buck’s emotional stability.

Judging by the soft clinking noises drifting from the kitchen, Eddie is probably washing the last dishes they left after dinner. Buck has more time to get ready for the kiss. Deep breathes, courage loading like a charging bar stuck at 67%.

This time, he’s prepared. He’s got a plan. A brilliant, foolproof plan and he’ll stick to it as if his life depended on it.

He’ll ask Eddie to help him make a video for a stupid trend Ravi challenged him to do. Then, he’ll kiss him. Eddie will take it as a funny joke, and everything will be fine. Perfect. No trouble, or emotional casualties.

So, when Eddie finally comes back and drops onto the couch beside him, barely stifling a yawn, Buck feels ready.

“Wanna watch something else? It’s not that late.” His best friend suggests, turning his head toward him. His eyes are unfairly tender, and they remind Buck of melted chocolate, warm sunlight filtering through the blinds, bright sunflowers sitting on the windowsill.

Buck’s heart starts thundering again. Maybe he needs a little more time to prepare himself.

“Sure.” Buck shrugs and stares intensely at his own hands while Eddie puts on a random episode of Friends.

“Is Friends okay?” Eddie asks him, lips curving into a small, crooked smile.

Suddenly, Buck feels a lump in his throat and his eyes burn with unforgiving tears he barely manages to stop. Friends is his comfort show, the thing he watches after extremely long and difficult shifts – just like the one they survived today.

Eddie knows him enough to remember these tiny details that mean the world to him. It’s not even the first time he does something like this just for him. Which makes it worse. And sweeter. And so unbelievably Eddie that Buck has to take a moment to avoid blurting out how much he loves him.

“Of course.”

As they start watching the show, Buck becomes hyper-aware of Eddie’s arm casually thrown over the back of the couch, occasionally brushing the skin of Buck’s nape from time to time, like the universe personally assigned Eddie to ruin him via casual affection.

They’re sitting closer than before now – bodies almost touching, sharing warmth and comfort. It’s a sweet torture Buck would like to end soon for his own wellbeing. It’s not like they never cuddled before but considering that Buck is mentally gearing up to kiss him, everything feels suddenly too complicated.

It’s only after the third episode that he finally thinks he’s going to do it. So, he sighs and tries to open his mouth to get his best friend’s attention, but something else ruins his plans. Again.

“You’re thinking too loud again.” Eddie tells him with a chuckle, his arm finally dropping around his shoulders, pulling him close against his side. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Talk to me.”

“N-nothing. I’m just-“ Buck’s cheeks bloom crimson, heat rushing up his neck like a warning flare, and he suddenly feels like he’s going to combust. Before he can stop himself, he buries his face in the crook of his neck, not wanting to show him how flustered he is, fingers clutching at his shirt. His voice comes out small and terribly high. “Tired.”

“You’re sure?”

Buck nods against him as Eddie hums thoughtfully, and then – so gently it almost feels accidental – his lips brush Buck’s temple in a fleeting kiss. Buck instantly melts into a useless puddle of warmth and unwanted feelings, like snow surrendering to sunlight during a hot summer day.

One of his friend’s hands slips under his clothes, fingertips dragging slow patterns along Buck’s back, deliberate but absentminded, like he isn’t even aware he’s rewriting Buck’s nervous system one brush at a time. Buck shivers in a full body glitch Eddie definitely feels.

Buck wonders what the hell is happening, and all thoughts of kissing Eddie only intensify in his brain as he lifts his head by a fraction and realizes how close their faces are, how little the space between them got. He can almost feel the scrape of Eddie’s stubble, the warmth of his breath ghosting his skin.

Buck could kiss him now.

His frantic pulse roars loud in his ear. His eyes betray him – they drop to Eddie’s mouth, then back up, then down again. His breath hitches and Eddie’s eyes darken, gaze sharpening, and something flickers dangerously, like the sky before a storm.

“Buck?” Eddie whispers, fingers tightening faintly at his waist.

Buck would like to say this is the moment they finally kiss but the universe must have filed a restraining order for him against Eddie’s lips because a phone rings, making them both freeze.

The spell breaks and Eddie exhales through his nose. He reaches for his phone, answering the call.

“Hola, Abuela!” He says warmly, already shifting into Spanish as he talks with his grandmother.  

Buck collapses back against his chest, both relieved and wrecked, as he listens to the soft lull of Eddie’s voice, the gentle cadence of Spanish Buck always pretends doesn’t undo him, guiding his heart into stillness, a quiet silence after a rough storm.

Eddie’s heartbeat knocks a steady rhythm against Buck’s body, and it feels quite comforting. His free hand resumes the same motions of before, drifting up and down Buck’s back, like he isn’t devastating and soothing him all at once.

Buck nearly falls asleep there, eyes heavy, and thinks it’s a shame they didn’t get to kiss. He was so close, and for a moment it even looked like Eddie wanted it too – Buck wills his brain to stop right there, slamming the door on that thought.

Eddie’s still straight and, apparently, Buck is still delusional. Maybe clinically insane.

At least, he got cuddles out of it, so he tells himself it wasn’t a complete loss. Not a total disaster.

There’s plenty of time to try again, anyway. And next time, he’ll be more prepared.

Next time, he’ll nail it.

Attempt #3

This time, Buck is sure it’ll happen. He’ll get Eddie to kiss him. He’ll show Ravi how wrong he was to even think he couldn’t do it. This time, Buck is going to make sure nothing can interrupt them. He has mentally prepared himself, forged a brand-new plan – a better one. A fantastic, truly fireproof plan.

He’s ready now.

They’re in the car, parked beneath the glowing menu of the Taco Bell drive-through, windows rolled all the way down, warm night air slipping into the cab of his jeep. Hozier’s rich, amber-warm voice pours from the speaker, singing about decay and gentle love.

They’re waiting for their food to be ready. Buck had proposed fast food, claiming he didn’t have the energy to make dinner after their shift from hell, knowing that Chris would definitely appreciate the change for once. Eddie easily agreed – because Eddie almost never says no when it comes to Buck.

So, they have a little time to spare. Buck props his phone against the dashboard under Eddie’s amused stare, angling it with purpose and maybe a little desperation.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to try a trend Ravi told me about.” Buck shrugs, pretending to be casual about it. Chill. Normal. As if his heart wasn’t already gearing up to sprint out of his chest at the thought of his lips crashing onto Eddie’s. “It looks fun.”

“Every time you say something like this, I end up regretting my life choices.” Eddie smirks as Buck scoffs, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance.

“C’mon, don’t be boring.” He starts poking the dimple in Eddie’s cheek with a finger, trying to annoy him. Eddie playfully bats his hand away, laughing.

“Okay, okay!” Eddie’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he surrenders, palms lifting in mock defeat. “What are we doing?”

Only then does Buck realize how close they’ve slowly gotten. Eddie smells like warm summer mornings by the sea, and the cologne he usually saves for important occasions – wood, lavender, spices. The scent violently hits Buck, and his brain proceeds with an unauthorized reboot to its own system.

“There’s this thing-“ he swallows, clumsily tripping over his words. “-on Tik Tok where you do something to your best friend to test their reaction.”

“Should I be afraid?” Eddie’s mouth curves into a grin, eyebrow raised.

“It’s harmless, I swear!” Buck blurts out too quickly, blush flaring bright across his cheeks.

His eyes drop to his hands which are currently engaged in a violent entanglement with each other. Buck feels stupid, like he’s suddenly forgot everything he knows about flirting and romance.

He’s the king of flirting. Why does he turn into a blushing, stammering idiot in front of his best friend? Sure, Eddie’s also the love of his life, but it shouldn’t be this hard…right?

Right?

Eddie studies him for a moment – curious, attentive, almost too perceptive.

He definitely notices how nervous Buck’s feeling, because a second later he covers Buck’s hand with his own. His expression softens as his thumb sweeps along Buck’s skin, grounding, intimate in a way that makes his heart riot again.

“Alright, then.” Eddie says, voice dropping into that low, fond register he only ever uses with him. “Hit me, cariño.”

Buck’s heart kicks against his ribs like a wild, frantic bird trashing inside a cage. He shifts closer, sucking in a breath, then taps the recording button. It’s public enough that Eddie won’t think too much into it and the logic gives Buck a shaky illusion of control.

He lifts a hand, pressing his fingers to Eddie’s shoulder, leaning in until there’s barely any space left between them – thin as paper, fragile as glass held too tight.

Then, Buck freezes on the spot, noticing how Eddie’s eyes have gone dark just like last week, on the couch of his house, right before the phone call interrupted them.

He doesn’t know if it’s just his brain playing tricks on him, but the look on his straight best friend’s face feels hungry. Like he wants something. Like he wants him. A mirror of the same unbearable hunger Buck tries to swallow down every day. His body prickles with anticipation, electricity crackling through his veins.

He’s about to go for it. He’s really–

“Order for Diaz!”

The bored drawl of the Taco Bell employee slices through the moment like lightening punching through clear sky. It makes Buck jolt like they’ve been caught committing a felony.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he curses under his breath, forehead thunking against the steering wheel as Eddie retrieves their food.

Buck feels like a total idiot, turning off the recording, and starts the engine, jaw clenched, dignity in ashes.

“Guess we’ll try it another time.” Eddie tells him, munching on a hot fry he’s just stole from the warm, crinkling paper bag. There’s a tiny softness at the edges of the words.

“Yeah, sure.” Buck mutters. Ariana Grande’s voice fills the cabin, syrup-sweet and sparkling, mocking him – We can't be friends, but I'd like to just pretend.

He slumps back on the seat, thinking about all the wrong things he’s ever done in his life. It must be the karma taking its sweet revenge on him. “It was stupid, anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter. If it’s something you want, we’ll do it.” Eddie shrugs and Buck wants to say something in return, but his voice dies in his throat as his friend’s hand comes to rest on his thigh, fingers spread, thumb pressing lightly into the muscle like he belongs there.

Buck’s lungs officially quit their job. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead like it might give him answers, wondering for the umpteenth time what the hell is happening, hands gripping the steering wheel.

“You’re alright?” Eddie asks, mouth half-full.

“Yeah.” Buck nods, swallowing hard, his cheeks burning hotter than the drive-through sign glowing behind them. “Just hungry.”

Eddie hums, entirely unconvinced, but doesn’t push. He feeds him fries for the rest of the drive home with his free hand, quietly singing along to the music. His other hand never leaves his thigh, steady and hot, grounding and overwhelming all at once.

Buck doesn’t dare to move. He barely breathes. It makes his insides churn and twist in want and despair.

Next time, he tells himself, next time he’s getting this done even if the universe personally shows up to heckle him.

Attempts #4

Buck never really liked Christmas. He didn’t have many good memories related to it – until he met his chosen family, at least. Before them, Christmas had always felt like an empty house with the heat turned off, windows rattling in the wind.

Now it’s warmth from a creeping fireplace, loud laughter chasing after him in the early hours of the morning. Now, it tastes like hot chocolate burning his tongue and smells like cinnamon and Eddie’s cologne still faintly lingering into the fabric of his shirts.

So, it’s not that he hates it, but he doesn’t exactly love it either.

This is something that could change though – if he finally manages to kiss Eddie.

It’s Christmas, so he can use the excuse of the mistletoes hanging around the station. It’s practically begging to be used as alibi, and it wouldn’t even be that weird. It’s perfect. His most brilliant plan out of all.

Fool-proof. Bullet-proof. Buck-proof.

Buck believes he’s going to succeed this time, even if a part of his brain is chanting don’t, don’t, don’t like a Christmas song stuck on repeat. And it doesn’t matter if some of their friends might see.

His heart is past shame now, past any kind of self-preservation. He needs to do this thing. And honestly? If Ravi witnesses the whole ordeal, it’ll be even better. Let the man eat back his words like bitter gingerbread.

It’s not a busy day. The station is peaceful, which is almost as rare as a lunar eclipse. They’re all chilling in the loft, trying to rest before their next call. The fairy lights strung along the railings blink lazily. The scent of pine from the cheap Christmas tree full of blue and silver decorations mixes with the smell of engine oil, coffee freshly brewed, and something metallic.  

Buck is helping Bobby make dinner for everyone, chopping onions for the salad and pretending the sting in his eyes is vegetable-related, not emotional. As their captain’s special lasagna bakes in the oven, Bobby keeps side-eyeing him with thoughtful eyes, like he understood Buck’s going through something, but kindly doesn’t ask.

Eddie is still sleeping in the bunks – totally unaware, not even imagining Buck is trying to force a rom-com scene on him. Hen and Ravi are playing Mario Kart on the station’s Nintendo Switch. Hen is winning, obviously, and Ravi pretends he’s letting her not to hurt his ego too deeply. Chim is probably somewhere doing stuff – probably scheming or inventing new chaos.

So, the plan is quite simple.

As soon as the dinner is ready, Hen will go wake Eddie up. Buck is going to make sure he’ll be right under the mistletoe hanging over the loft’s entrance to finally get a kiss from his straight best friend. It’s no big deal, really. He’s already memorized the choreography in his head – wait under the mistletoe, look pretty, kiss, victory, look even prettier, final bows, and curtains closed.  

Buck would like to say that this is exactly how things played out, but he must be cursed or something because even this time, his plan was an utter, complete, ridiculous failure. The universe – or whoever deals with his fate – is clearly getting paid overtime to sabotage him.

Hen goes to call Eddie, and Buck casually places himself under the mistletoe, arms crossed to his chest, trying to look natural, like a man who’s not having an internal breakdown. Ravi is staring at him with a smirk, like he perfectly knows what he wants to do.

Buck ignores him not only because he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but also because instead of his best friend, the first one coming through is Chimney.

His plan backfired spectacularly.

“Oh! Ohhh no.” Chimney freezes theatrically, gasping like a woman from the Renaissance witnessing a scandal. “Stuck under the kissing plant with my cruel enemy. Tragic. Truly.”

“For God’s sake.” Buck curses, clenching his teeth, his soul leaving his body. Ravi and Bobby look clearly amused by his desperation, breaths held in suspense, like they’re watching a tennis match where Buck is the ball.

Chimney is making kissy faces at him – exaggerated puckering, loud smooching noises, full commitment to the act. Buck hates him with passion. A burning, blistering, five-alarm hatred.

Frustration level: critical.

“I should’ve gotten pop corns.” Hen has just come back with Eddie in tow, not even bothering to hide her laughter. She’s wiping tears at this point, like Buck’s humiliations is her Christmas present.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for him.” Eddie murmurs, amused by the situation. He sends a tender glance at Buck who doesn’t even have the courage to look back at him.

“I think we all should laugh.” Ravi says, smugness written all over his face. He’s leaning back like a king on his throne of chaos, wrapped in a blanket of I told you so. Buck glares at him, storm thundering in his blue eyes.

He hates him so much.

“Gimme a kiss, Buckley. We can’t break traditions!” Chimney grabs Buck’s hands in his, dramatically pursuing his lips, waiting for Buck to give in like an actor starring in a Shakespearian tragedy titled Two idiots and One Plant.

“It’s ridiculous.” Buck wants to die. His voice cracks on the last word, half mortified, half resigned. “Maddie is going to kill me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to send her everything.” Ravi says, already holding up his phone like a cameraman of documentaries capturing their best shot of his entire career. He even zooms in for emotional effect. Then, he winks at him, devastatingly gleeful. “You will be missed.”

Buck knows his sister is going to laugh her ass off as soon as she sees the video of her husband and her brother kissing under the mistletoe. Maddie will probably frame it. It’s hilarious – objectively.

In another timeline, Buck would even play along with the joke, but this time it’s different.

He really wanted his plan to work.

“I hate you all.” Buck exhales, dragging a hand down his face. Then, he gives a peck on Chimney’s lips before wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater.

The loft erupts in laughter – fond, loud, almost hysterical. Hen slaps the table, Bobby sigh-laughs while plating lasagna, and Ravi pats Buck’s shoulders whispering, smug and amused, “maybe next time you’ll be luckier.” Buck gives him the middle finger and stifles a laugh against his own will.

They all sit down to eat, chatting loudly as Bobby puts the rest of the food they made on the table. Eddie drops next to him as always and casually places his arm around the back of his chair. Buck feels extremely aware of every degree of heat radiating off Eddie’s skin as it brushes against his shirt. He ignores it all.

“It could’ve been worse, you know.” Eddie whispers to him, smirking.

“Yeah? How?” Buck snorts, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“Well,” Eddie leans closer to his ear, murmuring like he’s delivering classified information. “At least it’s not that old jerk of your ex.”

“That old jerk was your friend first.” Buck mutters, stabbing a portion of his lasagna with unnecessary aggression, teeth sinking into his lower lip. He’s trying not to laugh because he’s still upset and wants to hold onto the drama for five more minutes, but it’s hard not to feel better with Eddie sitting there making jokes about his old jerk of an ex.

“At least I didn’t kiss him.” Eddie makes a disgusted face at the thought and Buck giggles.

“Good thing I got rid of him, then.” Buck says, shoveling a bite into his mouth.

“Bet he wasn’t even that good." Eddie adds with a shrug, a little too casual.

“Yeah, because you are, right?” Buck chuckles, shaking his head a bit, pretending he’s not thinking about how good of a kisser Eddie must be. He’s certain no one could even compare, no matter Buck still hasn’t managed to find out.

“I’m the best.” Eddie tells him, voice deliberately dropping low, hot breath tickling the shell of his ear. His eyes flicker to Buck’s lips for a heartbeat, something playful and dark lighting behind them. Buck’s cheeks instantly get crimson, and his heart starts hammering loudly in his chest. “You wanna try, love?”

Buck freezes, brain buffering, lungs filing a resignation letter. Before he has even the time to realize that his absolutely straight best friend is flirting with him, the alarm bell rings – merciless, and biblical. It shatters all the tension simmering between them like a crack in a stained glass.  

“Stop flirting like two lovebirds and get a move on.” Chimney calls them out already jogging towards the stairs like the rest of their team.

Eddie laughs as if he didn’t just crash Buck’s poor heart with three single words.

“Let’s go, Buck.” Eddie tells him, lingering for a moment more. “We can continue this conversation later.”

“Okay.” Buck clears his throat, trying to gather his neurons back together.

He almost trips on his way out. Hen catches him by the hoodie, not bothering to hide her amusement.

“Focus, lover boy!”

Buck hates his life.

Attempts #5

For the next three days, Buck falls again into a rabbit hole, burrowing so deep anyone would need a search party to retrieve him. He watches hundreds of videos from that trend just to get an idea on how to succeed.

It comes out, there’s nothing much to gather from them, which is annoying.

But the universe, besides making his life more miserable, it also must enjoy rewarding idiots with stupid ideas, because Buck gets another one. And this time, it might actually work.

Or so he thinks.

He could kiss Eddie on New Year’s Eve. Neither of them has someone to kiss at midnight, so it might not even be a bad thought. There aren’t many ways to prevent it from happening – especially if everyone else is distracted by fireworks or kissing their own partners.

It should work.

Buck feels ready. They will spend the evening at Bobby’s – he and Athena invited them all for a family dinner he’s quite happy to be part of. The house is warm, full of noise and love. There’s a wreath on the door, cookies shaped like stars, and chill, Christmas music playing in the background.

Then, a couple of minutes before midnight, Buck will drag Eddie away from the chaos and kiss him stupidly. Hopefully, his straight best friend won’t react in a too negative way. If he’s lucky and Eddie is tipsy, he might even kiss him back – not because he wants to, obviously, but because alcohol makes everyone a little bisexual. That’s just science.

Except, apparently, this kiss isn’t meant to happen because things spectacularly diverge from his plan for the fifth time.

Buck drunk too much during the evening – courtesy of nerves, panic, and his brother-in-law refilling his glass without even giving him time to realize it.

It was only a matter of time before he ended up vomiting, doubled over the toilet, like a bad reenacting of the Hungover with less budget and more bad tequila.

“Easy, sweetheart.” Eddie’s cool hands brushed his hair back from his face with a sweetness Buck doesn’t think he deserves, helping him through every miserable retch with soft praises, voice low and soothing like honey poured into hot tea. “That’s it. You’re doing great. I’ve got you.”

Buck wanted to evaporate on the spot.

Now it’s five minutes after midnight.

After thoroughly brushing his teeth, Buck is quietly crying his eyes out, sitting on the cold bathroom tiles. His face is smashed against Eddie’s chest, and he’s curled up in between his legs. The floor is freezing, but Eddie is so warm, and safe that it makes him sob even more pathetically.

Eddie’s fingers trace senseless lines on his back, soothing him with soft kisses pressed to his curls and sweet nothings muttered against his temple, voice a little rough.

Buck feels even more of idiot now. He is an idiot.

The house outside the bathroom booms with fireworks, and cheers, a comforting cacophony that makes Buck’s teeth clench in agony. It’s like there’s a hammer painfully drilling into his skull as explosions thunder in the night sky and his heart breaks quietly in Eddie’s arms.

It’s like the universe is complotting against him and Buck is tired because it’s unfair. He wants to stop feeling this pathetic, but he can’t and it’s even more frustrating. It got personal, at this point. Or maybe he’s just cursed.

“Buck.” Eddie tells him softly, interrupting his dramatic monologue. “You’re not cursed.”

“Did I say that out loud?” Buck hiccups, sniffling loudly. “Well, I can’t help it. My life is a tragic comedy.”

“At least you’re self-aware.” Eddie snorts, teasing him with a fond smile.

“It’s unfair.” Buck groans into his shirt. “I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic.” Eddie tells him gently. “Just a little drunk. And stubborn…and my problem, apparently.”

“What?” Buck looks up, confused, voice tiny and broken like a kicked puppy.

“Yes.” Eddie answers with a straight face before ruining his façade with a crooked grin, eyes filled with fondness. “I’m emotionally invested now.”

His chest tightens, leaving him raw and aching, red-rimmed eyes burning with tears. He hates how much he loves this man.

He breathes in Eddie’s familiar, and comforting scent, hoping it’ll soothe the ache and quiet the sobs escaping from his swollen lips. It doesn’t.

“Well, I’m sorry for ruining your fun.” Buck blurts out, sniffling. “You should go back outside. I’m feeling better already.”

“Sure, I definitely believe you now.” Eddie’s voice drips with sarcasm. Then, he lets out a breathy laugh, wiping Buck’s wet cheeks with his thumbs, reverently.

Buck feels a little embarrassed, eyes darting away from Eddie’s. He’s making a fool of himself in front of the love of his life. His new year started splendidly.

“I’m really pathetic.”

“Stop saying that, baby. You are not pathetic. You’re just sad and you’re allowed to be.” Eddie says, leaning down, voice warm as his arms wrap him in a steady, comforting hold. “Maybe you’re a little dramatic too, but you’re cute, so I forgive you.”

Buck blinks as Eddie kisses his forehead, probably unaware of the bomb he’s just dropped on him. Buck’s cheeks go on fire. His heart somersaults in his chest like an Olympic gymnast who’s just won the gold, and butterflies scatter violently in his stomach.

What the hell? Did his totally, unmistakably straight best friend just called him baby? Did he just call him cute again? It must be a glitch of his brain. It can’t be possible.

Buck doesn’t really know how he’ll survive the night after this, but he tells himself it’s going to be a problem for the Buck of the future. Right now, he collapses into Eddie’s chest once again – boneless, tired, and tragic, hiding his face to avoid further teasing.

“Shut up.” He mutters into his shirt.

Eddie laughs, pressing another kiss to his hair, and holds him tight, rubbing his back until Buck’s sniffling evens out.

“I’ve got you, Buck. It’s going to be alright.”

And wrapped in those arms, Eddie’s warmth a fortress against a universe that likes messing with him, Buck almost believes it.

Almost.

Final Attempt

Buck is officially out of ideas.

He decides that this is going to be his last attempt before surrendering to the universe’s cruel sense of humor. Ravi will probably laugh his ass off and Buck will have to suffer through his merciless teasing for weeks – possibly months.

He’s already accepted defeat though. This time he’s ready for the next, final failure.

Since Chris is sleeping over at his friend’s house, he and Eddie spend the evening playing Mortal Kombat like two unbothered, petty teenagers, tossing pop corns at each other every time one of them loses. Buck wins ten matches in a row and gloats about it for the rest of the night, long past what Eddie considers socially acceptable.

Eddie retaliates with cruel, heartless tickling that sparks a ridiculous wrestling match on the couch, ending only when they’re both breathless, hair a mess, a throw blanket tangled around their ankles like a fallen battle flag, and Buck screaming mercy in between strained giggles.

It’s easy. Effortless, like it’s always been between them. The kind of comfort and playfulness that doesn’t need translation. The one that feels like home. Buck thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way, no matter how much suffering he’s going through because of his unrequired love.

The bathroom is warm with the lingering steam from the showers they took earlier. The air smells faintly of vanilla body wash and mint toothpaste, fog curling lazily around the mirror. They stand side by side at the sink, shoulders brushing as they orbit each other with the easy familiarity of people who have done this a thousand times already – a cosmic dance of mundane intimacy.

Buck is applying his night cream on his face when Eddie rinses and spits one last time, softly humming some tune Buck doesn’t recognize. He spies their reflections through the mirror, and the scene looks so domestic that makes his heart painfully clench in his chest. It’s like one of those holiday commercials where the soundtrack swells right before a kiss.

Which, of course, never happens for Buck.

Because the universe wants him miserable. And because the love of his life is unmistakably straight.

Buck is wearing one of Eddie’s oversized sweaters. It hangs off him a little, sleeves too long, swallowing half his hands, collar stretched just enough to slip down his shoulder. It’s Buck’s favorite – the one that smells just like Eddie, the scent stitched into the wool like a brand, because he uses it for sleeping when the nights turn sharp-cold.

Eddie doesn’t particularly like to wear sweaters and swears he buys them for himself, but Buck knows his best friend collects them like offerings meant to be stolen by him. It’s another of the million things Eddie does for him just because he cares.

He must’ve zoned out for a while because Eddie waves a hand in front of his face, brows raised, eyes flashing with worry.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Buck mutters, smoothing more cream on his cheeks. “Peachy. It’s just my mind needing a holiday. No big deal.”

“You’re such a drama queen.” Eddie chuckles.

“Hey.” Buck says, pointing an accusatory finger at his reflection. “You signed up for the full package when you became my best friend. So, quit complaining.”

“Yeah, but no one warned me about the telenovela-level breakdowns.” Eddie leans closer, sarcasm filling his tone.

“I’m an Italian classical opera.” Buck’s lips twitch against his will. “Thank you very much.”

“More like a Greek tragedy.” Eddie challenges, drying his hands on a towel. “The gods are definitely involved.”

“You’re right.” Buck snorts, bumping Eddie’s hips with his own. “They hate me.”

“See?” Eddie grins. “Drama queen.”

“Shut up!”

They both burst into laughter and Buck almost doesn’t want to ruin this moment. The lightness feels fragile, almost frozen in time like fake snowflakes still suspended mid-air after shaking a snow globe too hard. It’s quiet, a temporary lull with light winds and blue skies right before the eyewall, like in the eye of a hurricane.

But it’s his final attempt, so he needs to get over it with.

He sets his phone on the counter, carefully leaning it against the mirror. His hands slightly shake, tiny aftershocks of nerves he keeps pretending aren’t there. He exhales through his nose, bracing for the next prank the universe will pull on him.

“So, are we trying the mysterious trend again?” Eddie asks, stifling a tired yawn.

His eyes are a little loopy, glazed with sleepiness, lashes heavy, features softened by the late hour. The steam on the mirror behind them makes his silhouette halo-blurred, like someone sketched him in pastels instead of ink.

Buck finds him endearing.

“If you’re up for it.” Buck swallows, letting out a nervous chuckle. “I promise it’s a stupid thing. It’ll take less than five minutes.”

Eddie studies him for a long moment. Something unreadable flickers through his eyes, a match struck behind dark glass. His silence feels like standing too close to the edge before the fall. Buck doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until he sees Eddie gently smiling, and his heart stutters pathetically.

“So, what do I have to do?”

“Nothing. Just-” Buck starts the recording and steps closer. He thinks this is it. He’s really going to do it. His gaze sweeps Eddie’s face, memorizing and cataloguing every stupidly beautiful detail, and then he notices a smear of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. “Oh.“

“What?” Eddie tilts his head, adorably confused.

“You’ve- uh- You’ve got toothpaste.” Buck laughs weakly.

“I do?” Eddie’s brows lift, amused.

“Yeah, here.” Buck reaches up, thumb brushing lightly at the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“Is this part of the trend or…” Eddie blinks, grin tugging wider.

Buck shakes his head in response and bites down his bottom lip, thumb lingering for half a second too long, heartbeat drumming a rhythm Eddie shouldn’t hear. He should really do it now before they get interrupted by something ridiculous again.

So, Buck leans in and finally – finally kisses him.

It’s soft, careful, a feather touch meant to test the ground rather than break it. He balances himself on Eddie’s shoulders, knee wobbling for the whirlwind of feelings detonating inside him at the barest contact.

Eddie doesn’t move and Buck starts spiraling – oh God, I ruined everything, I fucking knew–

Then, Eddie exhales, shaky and disbelieving. His hands come up, firm and reverent, cupping Buck’s face before diving back in. He kisses him with such unfiltered eagerness that Buck softly gasps against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie presses him back against the counter, kissing him deep and slow, but with the ravenous hunger of a man who starved for months. He devours him like he’s been holding himself back for far too long, like restraint was a cage he was forced into and now he’s finally allowed to break free.

Buck’s brain shorts-circuits. His straight best friend is kissing the light out of him. Is he dreaming? Hallucinating? Having a stroke?

“Buck.” Eddie breathes between kisses, foreheads pressed together, his voice wrecked in a way that feels sacred. “Mi amor.”

Buck doesn’t get a chance to answer, or even inhale as Eddie steals his mouth again, and again, hoisting him up on the counter without breaking a sweat. Buck makes a small, helpless noise – something halfway through a surprised gasp and a strangled laugh. Eddie grins into his mouth, like he enjoys hearing Buck lose the ability to form sentences because of him.

“You taste like trouble.” Eddie mutters, and his hands slip under Buck’s sweater, fingers digging into the flesh of his waist, teasing, making him tremble.

“And you taste like bad decisions.” Buck tries to shoot back, but it comes out airy, voice slightly cracking. His friend snorts, forehead nudging his playfully before stealing another kiss just because he can.

It’s fireworks, and quietness braided into one. It’s coming back home after years of wandering. It’s the cataclysm. It’s chaos, the universe splitting open. It’s two neutron stars spiraling toward collision, inevitable and iridescent, merging into something irreversible, like they were always meant to be together.

It’s more than anything Buck’s ever dared to dream.

The room is spinning, but not violently – like a planet finally accepting its orbit. Eddie is the sun, and Buck is devout. That’s the only math of it.

“You don’t even realize what you do to me.” Eddie whispers against his lips, kissing him softer, with reverence, hands sliding down Buck’s sides to draw him impossibly, desperately closer. His thumbs press into the dip of Buck’s lower back, imprinting in his memory the exact coordinates of his body, like he’s afraid someone might try to rewrite the map later. “I’m so in love with you. You’re my everything. It’s-“

“I thought you were straight.” Buck blurts out, stunned.

Eddie pauses just long enough for the words to hit Buck, realization dawning on the small space between them like a delayed explosion. Then, Eddie breaks into a fond grin, endeared, and a little smug.

“I’m literally sticking my tongue down your throat, baby. I don’t think it’s something a straight guy would do.” Eddie smirks and kisses him again, hungrier, and sloppier, one arm wrapped around him to keep them close and one hand still cupping his face with such gentleness that makes Buck’s heart melt away.

The contrast is obscene – devotion wrapped in ferocity; softness dipped in ruin. Eddie explores his mouth thoroughly, tongue lapping every inch of it, passionate and feral, like he can’t get enough of it, like even the thought of stopping might kill him.

It makes every particle in Buck’s body crack with electricity, like a high voltage wire about to snap. Every touch sets him ablaze, each kiss sparks a tension so thick it gets harder even to breathe. Buck feels obsessed.

Eddie officially ruined him for anyone else.

“So, was I your gay awakening?” Buck asks, breathless.

“Mi amor.” Eddie mutters in between kisses. “You were my true love awakening.”

Buck laughs breathlessly, tears slipping free before he can even think about stopping them. His best friend is such a sap. He never thought it could be possible for him to feel this happy.

“Hey- hey, baby, what’s wrong?” Eddie pulls back a little instantly, his expression twisting into worry.

Buck sniffles once, twice, swiping at his cheeks again like he can manually stop his body from having emotional reaction. He fails, obviously.

“I’m just so happy.” he shakes his head, sobbing through laughter. “I’ve been in love with you for so long, I just- I feel like I’ve started breathing only now. I never thought you could love me too.”

Eddie’s face stills. Something shifts in his eyes and he looks at Buck like someone has just handed him the final piece of a puzzle he didn’t know he was allowed to solve.

“There isn’t one single universe in which I didn’t love you.” Eddie stares at him like he can’t quite believe his luck. Then he smiles, awe written all over his face. “Even in death, I’d crawl back to you. It’s you, Buck. It’s always been you.”

Buck pulls him back, kissing him stupidly, melting into him completely, his heart soaring high. They break apart only when they’re both panting against each other lips, cheeks wet from tears they don’t know to whom they belong anymore.

“You know,” Eddie murmurs, amused, resting his forehead against Buck’s. His smile curves slow, a little wolfish at the edges. “You could’ve just kissed me, anyway.”

“I needed an excuse.” Buck laughs, cheeks flushing. “I think I should thank Ravi though.”

“Why?” Eddie kisses him one more time, nuzzling his face, making him giggle.

“He told me I’d never be able to get you to kiss me.” Buck threads his fingers into Eddie’s hair, leaving sweet, feather-like kisses along his cheek, his jaw, every piece of skin he manages to reach, unable to stop touching him. Eddie lets himself be handled, head tipping back slightly to grant him more access, baring his throat to him like an offering at a shrine.

“He definitely knew what he was doing.” Eddie snorts clearly amused. “Everyone knows I’d never be able to resist you.”

“Well,” Buck hums triumphantly, smugness finally finding a home on his face. “Good thing I don’t need any more excuses to kiss you.”

“You don’t even have to ask.” Eddie’s smile drops into something softer, but no less certain. “I’m addicted.”

He pulls Buck into another kiss to highlight the concept, taking his time to let their tongue meet, teeth playfully grazing his bottom lip. Buck melts against him, a little too eager, and they both smile so much it’s hard to keep kissing for a while.

The phone keeps recording on the counter, forgotten, as they hold each other in the soft bathroom light.

Buck never thought it’d come to this. Maybe the universe doesn’t really hate him. Maybe he should really thank Ravi, but it’s something future Buck will deal with. Right now, he’s too busy being devoured by the love of his life to care about other things.

And for the first time in weeks, Buck lets himself believe that the universe wasn’t blocking him. It was just waiting for Eddie to catch him.