Eddie calls him about ten minutes after he finishes unpacking. And Buck doesn'tâpanic. He doesn't! He has no reason to panic. Tommy doesn't know a damn thing about him and Eddie. And Maddie, well. She doesn't know anything either. Not this.
Nobody but him and Eddieâand Chrisâunderstand what they are to each other, and that's okay. Buck made his peace with that long ago. Long before he even knew he liked guys. Which. Not that that matters or has any sway on his perception of his and Eddie's relationâfriendship. They're just BuckandEddie. Doesn't need to be any more than that. Just his best friend.
All this to say: when Eddie calls, he doesn't panic. He takes a very respectable three deep breaths, tries not to grimace at the leather squeaking under his ass and hits the green button with a hand that absolutely isn't shaking.
Because he's not panicking. He's happy. He's so happy. He gets to talk to Eddie. For the first time since he left. Why would he be panicking? Because of some stupid assumptions from an insecure ex? Sure, right. Like he'd ever let that touch him and Eddie.
Competition, he thinks, like Tommy ever could have competed with Eddie Diaz.
"H-hey, E-eddie." Buck isn't sure why he stumbles over Eddie's name. He's had enough practice over the past few days. Said it enough times in his life that it should be able to slip out seamlessly every damn time.
"Hey, Buck." And there's Eddie sounding sure and confident and a little tired and warm and soft and so much like his best friend. Buck aches. "Just finished unpacking. Told myself I couldn't call until I was done. Incentive, y'know?"
And Buck grins. Grins so big his face hurts and he forgets all about the stupid leather couch underneath him. He imagines the two of them unpacking at the exact same moment, finishing in the same breath, still in sync even 800 miles apart. And then the second part of it hits him. Calling Buck his reward for menial, mind-numbing labour. The idea of hearing Buck's voice getting him through all the organising and reorganising and rereorganising. Fuck, he misses him.
"I, uh, I-I actually just unfinished packing too," Buck replies. A beat too late maybe. Doesn't matter. Eddie huffs a laugh, nothing matters but that.
"No shit. Should've known it'd take us a while to shake off the synchronicity." And Eddie's voice is so warm, so fond, it soothes the ache of the inevitable loss of their bond. That special tie between them that never let them stray too far soon to be severed. And then, like Eddie can hear him, "still a team even two states apart, huh?"
"Always a team," Buck replies, too soon this time probably. Doesn't matter. Not when he can hear Eddie's smile.
"How's the house treating you?" he asks, words shaped into something beautiful by the curve of Eddie's lips. But still, Buck's heart drops right out of his ass.
I missed you so much I couldn't sleep here without you. I didn't unpack because the house still feels like yours. The house still feels like yours because I wish it was. Yours. I couldn't sleep because you weren't snoring down the hallway. And the one night I did sleep here I had to fuck my ex as a distraction just to try and forget that you should be the one in that bedroom.
But he can't say any of that. He can't.
"Uhhhhhh." He blinks. Has forgotten every word in the English language.
"Buck?" Eddie's smile is gone.
"Why'd you stop talking to Tommy when we broke up?"
"He broke your heart, Buck," Eddie says slowly, evenly, too controlled. Hiding something. "Why the hell would I talk to him?"
"B-because. You guys were friends before me and him got together."
Eddie's straight. Tommy scoffs. Friends.
"And I promised to have your back five years before I even knew he existed," Eddie replies simply. "There was no competition there, Buck."
"How, um, how did you find out about that anyway?" Eddie asks when Buck's silence stretches on too long. "Not that it was a secret or anything. I just... I didn't tell you because I didn't think it mattered. And I know you didn't call Tommy, so..."
"No, n-no, I didn't call him." And he didn't is the thing. Didn't call him to apologise like he said he would to Maddie. Just. Let it lay.
"What aren't you telling me, Buck?" Eddie sighs. Buck misses his fucking sighs.
"Ravi called him. Well, found him. At the bar. And brought him over."
"Jesus Christ." And Buck can see him clear as day, bridge of his nose pinched between his thumb and forefinger. "Remind me to send Ravi a strongly worded e-mail on how to be your partner."
Buck kind of really wants to read that fucking email.
"We slept together," Buck blurts out.
"No." Buck barks out a laugh. A startled sound. "No, not Ravi."
"Okay, okay, good," Eddie breathes out. "Because that would not be one of the points of the e-mail." Buck snorts again. Sobers instantly. Gets a sharp little pang in the pit of his stomach. No reason. "So. Tommy."
"Yeah." Buck ducks his head. "Tommy."
"Did you..." Eddie struggles with something for a moment, and Buck finds himself sitting up straighter, bracing for whatever comes next. "I mean, did you... When you... y'know, did you go to his or-or... yours?"
Buck bluescreens. Blacks out maybe. What the fuck?
"Um, y-yours or, no, mine. M-mine. It was closer. To the bar. And Iâ" And he what? What? What is it lurking in the shadows of his brain, slipping through his fingers like sand every time he thinks he's close enough to hold?
"Okay." Eddie says it like he's taking a punch.
"Is-is that, I mean, th-that's okay, right?"
"Well, I don't know if I'd classify sleeping with your ex as okay." Eddie makes some sort of noise. Half anguished and half furious. "Where the hell does he get offâ" your bedroom, Buck thinks deliriously "âhooking up with the guy who's heart he broke?"
"He didn't break my heart, Eddie." Says it. Realises it's true.
"He was scared I was gonna break his, remember?"
"Dumb," Eddie says succinctly. Buck snorts.
"I'm not getting back together with him or anything. It was just a one time thing. You don't have to worry about me showing up on your doorstep to brood again."
Silence. Again. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.
"I think I'd be okay with it, if it brought you to my door," Eddie whispers.
Tears sting in Buck's eyes. He presses the bottom of his phone into his forehead until it begins to hurt. Clears his throat.
Best friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. But.
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