The pressure boils over in the kitchen. On a Wednesday. At 11:57pm, if anyone were to ask.
(They won’t, but Buck is going to tell them anyway. He’s going to be shouting it from the rooftops and spamming all his social media and taking an ad out in the local paper, just to be sure everyone knows.)
He knows this, because the time is a neon eyesore above the stove in an otherwise dark kitchen. It’s midnight, basically, and he’s sitting on the counter by the sink, Eddie nestled between his legs with a warm hand on his thigh, and Buck has to stare hard at that bright 11:57 or he’s going to do something stupid.
11:58, now. An entire minute of this. He should be sainted.
The sound waves of his voice travel through his ear, vibrate his eardrum, the bones of his ear (ossicles, he read once). Nerves must send some sort of acoustic signal to his brain, but fuck if he can make sense of it with Eddie’s hand on his skin, fingertips tucked beneath the red polka dot boxers he’s wearing.
(They were a gift, they came in a set, okay. And they make Eddie laugh when he wears them, so sue him.)
“Buck,” Eddie repeats, and Buck blinks, forces himself to meet Eddie’s eyes, his brow raised in amusement.
“Hmm?” Buck hums, pitched embarrassingly high.
Eddie smiles, and Christ, has Eddie always looked like this? He knows he has; Eddie’s beauty has long been a background constant of his life. He imagines it’s how people who live in, like, Colorado and Hawaii and Utah and all manner of beautiful places must feel. Like the breathtaking views are just commonplace, an everyday reality that eventually fades to background noise. But Eddie — he’s never looked at Buck like this, from beneath his lashes somehow, lit only by the dim light of the refrigerator, still open. They should do something about that, probably.
He squeezes Buck’s thigh for good measure, and Buck almost laughs. As if there were anything Buck was more focused on than that point of contact. The house could crumble around them and he’d barely notice.
He’s not exactly sure how they got here. Eddie found him here a few minutes ago, munching on a midnight cheese stick on the counter. Eddie had teased him, accused him of pilfering from Chris’ lunch. He’d promised to buy more before focusing back on the apartment listings he’d been idly scrolling through, though his heart was far from in it. He’d been rejected from two places just that week, and nothing he’s found felt right anyway.
He had mumbled something to that effect when Eddie asked what he was doing. Eddie was bent almost in half, digging in the back of the fridge for a bottle of green tea juice because he was a freak who drank caffeine in the middle of the night. Buck was very pointedly not checking out his ass, because he was a good friend, and those kinds of urges were exactly why he needed to be more proactive about finding his own place.
He expected Eddie to nod and leave Buck to it, or maybe ask to see what Buck had found. Instead, Eddie had frozen mid sip, illuminated in the fridge light behind him, and stared.
“Why are you doing that in the middle of the night?”
“Couldn’t sleep anyway. Might as well.”
And Eddie had kept staring, until Buck couldn’t ignore it anymore and met his eyes.
“You know you don’t have to rush anything,” Eddie said. “You’re welcome as long as you want.”
Buck shrugged. “I know. But I can’t be in your hair forever, man.”
With a thunk, Eddie set the bottle down on the island and sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded to himself, like he’d come to some sort of decision.
“Okay. I think I need to rephrase.”
And then Eddie had moved, abandoning the open fridge and his weird tea to slide between Buck’s legs, and now here they were. Inches apart, skin on skin, and he can feel every one of Eddie's fingers digging into the muscle, the slight tug on his leg hair and the way Eddie’s thumb grazes the edge of his tattoo.
“It’s okay,” Buck answers, delayed. Hushed. The air feels too fragile for anything more.
Eddie’s voice is low, but not quite the breathless whisper of Buck’s. “Good. Do you want to leave?”
Eddie’s breath hits his face when he laughs. “No. I mean, do you want to move out?” His fingers tighten on Buck’s thigh. “And no bullshit this time. Tell me the truth.”
Fuck you fuck you fuck you, he thinks, because Eddie has him. Has always had him, in a sense, but the touch and his closeness turn his thoughts fuzzy in a way that makes lying impossible. Buck swallows hard and shakes his head.
“Good,” Eddie says again, his thumb moving in gentle semicircles, and he has to bite back a whimper. “Because I don’t want you to either.”
Eddie’s fingers skate higher, brushing the inside of his thigh, and it’s really unfair how affected he is. He desperately wants to affect Eddie the same way, wants to see him blush and squirm the way Buck surely is right now.
“Why–why didn’t you say anything?” Buck asks, proud of how even his voice is.
“Don’t usually have to,” Eddie answers. “You know me too well, Buck. You usually just know what I want.”
Buck glances down at the hand on his thigh. Eddie’s other is braced against the counter next to his hip and he’s still so close, hasn’t let up even an inch.
“I’m—I think I’m a little out of my depth this time, Eddie,” Buck admits.
Eddie nods, thoughtful. “Probably should’ve anticipated that. I know you pretty well too.”
“Oh you think so?” Buck says. He can’t help but lean into the teasing, a poor distraction from the unadulterated want coursing through his system.
Eddie raises his eyebrows, and his hand moves, pushing Buck’s boxers up until his thumb is pressing right against his femoral artery. Buck doesn’t move, hardly dares to breathe.
“Well, if I had to guess, you’re probably overthinking the hell out of this,” Eddie says, with another squeeze of his thigh.
“Nope,” Buck lies, giving himself away with the way he shudders on an inhale, and Eddie chuckles. “This is–yeah, this is fine.”
“Is it?” Eddie says with another quirk of his brows. “That’s good to hear. And… what about this?”
Eddie lifts his other hand and lays it against Buck’s neck, thumb brushing the warm skin of his jaw. Buck can’t suppress the shiver this time and Eddie grins, eyes dropping to his thumb pressed against Buck’s carotid.
“Fine. This is—uh huh, t-this is cool.”
“Hmm,” Eddie hums, tilts his head consideringly. “You’re probably also stressing about the fact that the refrigerator is still open,” he guesses.
“The lemon bars, Eddie,” Buck despairs. “They’re still setting.”
But Eddie ignores this and goes in for the kill. He murmurs, “And you’re probably still second guessing if I want you.”
Buck blinks. Croaks, “Want me?”
“Oh,” Buck breathes. Of course, though that alone makes Buck feel winded. He chuckles nervously. “Y-yeah, you got me pegged, Diaz.”
Eddie smiles, closed lipped and heady. “I know. I can feel your pulse. Here,” he puts pressure on Buck’s thigh. “And here.” A thumb dipped into Buck’s neck. Just enough to feel the thunder in his veins, to make Buck’s breath catch almost painfully.
Buck swallows, and Eddie traces it down with the same thumb. “Eddie…”
“I want you here,” Eddie tells him in a steady voice. “I want you everywhere, if that wasn’t already clear. Stay.”
He doesn’t know how to respond to that without falling to the floor, so he just stares in awe as Eddie’s glance falls to his lips. There’s a flush on his cheeks he couldn’t make out before in the dark of the kitchen, and Buck lifts a hand to press his thumb into one before he can stop himself. Eddie’s eyes flick up to meet his, and Buck tugs him closer with the hand his cheek and kisses him.
It takes a few moments for Eddie to kiss him back, just long enough for Buck to feel a tinge of panic. But then Eddie’s hand tangles in his hair, mouth opening under Buck’s, and Buck sinks into it with a sigh. Eddie moves as if to pull away and Buck whines and wraps his legs around his waist, keeping him close. The hand on his thigh tightens, nails digging into flesh, and Eddie kisses him deep and slow. He tastes like his green tea juice, like toothpaste, like the chapstick he religiously puts on before bed, and Buck can’t get enough.
Eddie pulls away eventually, and Buck lets him this time. Eddie’s eyes are wide, mouth red and spit-slick, and Buck can’t resist leaning in to press another quick kiss to his mouth.
Eddie laughs into it and says, “I guess that’s a yes?”
“Yes,” Buck says immediately, peppering Eddie’s pink cheeks with smacking kisses. “Anything you want, forever, the answer is yes.”
“Good,” Eddie says, smiling into Buck’s mouth. “Come on. Let’s save your lemon squares and go to bed.”
“Wait,” Buck says, holding Eddie still with the legs still wrapped around his waist. “I-I love you, you know.”
Eddie smiles and kisses him again. “I know, baby. I know you, remember?”
“Yeah. You do,” Buck says, dreamy and embarrassing, but he doesn’t care. Not when Eddie kisses him like this, hands cupping Buck’s face like he’s something precious.
Eddie breaks the kiss, tilting his jaw to catch Buck’s eye. “And you know me. So you know I love you too.”
Buck nods, lets out a soft breath.
