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Hi hello finally posting a little hot tub ficlet! It’s not much but it made me write so. Yay 🫶 (sponsored by my espresso martini obsession)
“See, espresso martinis are so much better than that protein soda shit.”
“Hey, you were into the idea, if memory serves.”
“I’ll try anything once. Doesn’t mean I’ll like it.”
“Will you now?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow suggestively, which earns him a splash of water to the face from Buck.
“Perv.”
It’s a lovely mid-November evening, the kind of which not putting Buck’s hot tub to good use would be criminal- especially after the draining shift they’d just come off of. Honestly when Buck posed the suggestion, he’d expected Eddie to politely decline, something that’d been happening more often than not lately. So when Eddie said, “Sure, but only if you make me one of those martini things you’ve been talking about,” Buck almost forgot how he was supposed to act.
But he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
As if reading Buck’s mind, Eddie clears his throat and says, “Hey so, I know things have been kind of.… off. And I’m sorry for that.”
Buck stills, feeling the water sway gently back and forth around him. He tries not to stare at the droplets on Eddie’s arms, Eddie’s chest that are honest to god glistening in the moonlight as he says, “It’s been a weird few months.”
“Still.” Eddie sighs. “I just. I’ve missed….” He gestures to the scene in front of them. “This.”
Buck softens immediately. “So have I. You have no idea how much,” he adds, almost to himself. “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”
Eddie peers up at him, gently nudging his shoulder. “We’re good?”
Buck presses his shoulder against Eddie’s in return. “We’re always good, Eddie.”
“Good.” Eddie’s smile is soft and full and Buck feels faint and did someone turn up the water temperature? They’re silent for a beat, then two, and Buck tries to focus on the steady hum of the filter, but beautiful brown eyes are staring at him in a way he doesn’t know what to do with and he needs air.
He needs to break the spell.
So he pushes off his seat and starts to move to the other side of the hot tub for even just a little bit of space, but he’s not quick enough for Eddie, who reaches out a hand to grasp him by the arm and force him to a halt. The one stubborn piece of hair is sticking to his wet forehead, and Buck forces himself to keep from pushing it back.
“Why do you do that?”
Buck furrows his brow. “What?”
“Pull away, right when-“ Eddie falters, at a loss.
“I- I needed to move. Water’s hot,” Buck blurts.
“Yeah, hot tubs tend to be.”
“Right.”
“Buck.” Eddie’s thumb is absentmindedly circling along one of Buck’s tattoos, making him shiver despite the warmth.
“I needed to move,” Buck repeats, realizing he’s not just talking about tonight anymore. “Before… before I did something stupid.”
“Like?”
The heat and the alcohol have made Buck delirious, he’s sure of it, because instead of shooting off some bullshit quip, he actually finds himself confessing, voice rough, “Like kiss you.”
Eddie tightens his grip on Buck’s arm and oh, when did he get so close?
“And that’d be stupid.. why?”
“W-what do you mean?”
Eddie shrugs. “Maybe it wouldn’t be stupid. What would you do then?”
Buck blinks. He’s obviously hallucinating. “H-how many of those martinis did you have?” He tries to joke, but his voice wavers, betraying him.
“Just the one,” Eddie answers roughly, Buck watching as his eyes go darker.
“Eddie.”
“Buck.”
Their eyes are locked on each other, and neither of them make a move, but they don’t move away either. Eddie’s daring him, and they both know it. They also both know Buck’s going to give in. He never denies Eddie. He never wants to.
So he moves his hands to Eddie’s chest to guide him back into the seat until he’s able to lift his legs on either side and straddle him. Eddie grabs onto Buck’s hips, steadying him until they’re flush with his own. Buck can feel Eddie against him, and it makes his breath stutter. Is this actually happening? Does Eddie want this as much as he does? Want him?
Buck slides one hand around Eddie’s waist and the other up to his cheek, cups his jaw. The lean in is slow, enough time to give Eddie an out if he wants it. But Eddie? Eddie’s tired of waiting.
“Fuck,” he breathes, pulling Buck impossibly closer and sinking into Buck’s lips and oh. How have they not been doing this the entire time?
Eddie’s kissing Buck like a man starved, and Buck is dizzy with it. Every one of his senses is overwhelmed with EddieEddieEddie and it’s too much and it’s not enough. He licks into Eddie’s mouth and Eddie’s tugging on his curls, getting his hair damp. He can’t help the gasp the tugging elicits from him, which only spurs Eddie on. He sucks at Buck’s bottom lip for a moment before breaking away, and Buck whines at the loss of contact. It’s not for long, though, because Eddie has moved on to his neck, peppering soft kisses along Buck’s throat.
“God. Eddie,” he sighs. “What’s happening right now?”
“Well. Right now I’m trying to mark you up.” Eddie nips at his neck in confirmation. “You gonna let me?”
Buck doesn’t roll his hips on purpose, he swears. It’s just that he’s consumed by desire and his body is on autopilot. Eddie grunts at the contact, and Buck is not going to make it.
“Shit. Yeah. Yeah, Eddie, always. But we should probably- fuck.” Eddie’s taken it upon himself to roll his own hips.
“Go inside?” He breathes against Buck’s shoulder. All Buck can do is nod.
Eddie’s smile is devastating and uh oh, downright wicked as he says, “Race you?” And then he’s already up and halfway out of the hot tub, grabbing his towel as he runs.
“Eddie wait, I’m all wet!”
“You’re about to be wetter!” Eddie sings from the doorway.
“Oh my god,” Buck laughs as he moves to follow his best friend, because that’s the way their story will always go.
ryan guzman voice u should write buck's weird dad thing 🥸
Eddie had fallen asleep.
Arm across the back of the couch, head tipped to the side. It was only eight o’clock. Buck leaned in and brushed his fingertips to Eddie’s bare shoulder to wake him; Eddie sniffled and squinted his eyes open.
“I gotta go,” Buck told him. “I have that date.”
“Hm.” Eddie sat up, scrubbing his palm against the back of his neck. “All right. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Buck rolled his eyes, smiling a little. “I won’t.”
Stupid as it was, Buck sort of wanted to keep hanging out. Not that they were doing anything of note. It was just that, even under ideal conditions, dating fucking sucked. And the conditions were… not ideal.
But it’d be an asshole move to bail, especially on the only second date he’d gotten to in weeks. Besides, Eddie was already shooing him off.
“Call me if you need anything,” Eddie said. There was some humor in it.
Can I? Buck nearly asked, but he was halfway through the front door and he didn’t know what he thought the answer would be anyway. Of course he could, he knew that. It was Eddie.
Which was why it wasn’t on purpose, or anything, that he stuck around for a few more drinks, sulking at the bar after his only second date deserted him. Given how things had ended with Tommy, he had figured it might be prudent to attack the issue head-on: when she asked, half-joking, about red flags, he’d said, also half-joking, Oh, uh, probably my best friend. Her face had twisted up so spectacularly, he added, Don’t worry, he’s a guy. That didn’t help. A straight guy, so—it’s not a problem, but he’s important to me. Him and his kid. I guess some people don’t get that. Ha ha!
The conditions were not only not-ideal, they were untenable.
So he was kind of drunk, and it was late, and he was calling Eddie before he could think better of it.
“Buck?”
His voice was raspy and heavy and mildly confused; he’d obviously gone to bed by ten, as always.
“H—Hey, could you come get me?”
Eddie didn’t respond for a moment, and when he did, he sounded completely alert. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Eddie paused. “Hang tight,” he said.
Ten minutes later, Eddie was poking his head out of the open window of his truck.
“Uber for Evan Buckley?” he called, already back to teasing now that it was apparent Buck was alive and not being held at gunpoint.
Buck, laughing with his chin to his chest, rounded to the passenger side and clambered in. Eddie was still in his pajamas, halogen light playing off the sinew of his arms and throwing every hard angle of his face into stark relief. Probably Buck should have felt bad—for not getting an actual Uber, for dragging Eddie out in the middle of the night, for coping badly with being in love with him. Undeniably, though, it felt good that Eddie had shown up, no questions asked about whatever trouble Buck had gotten himself into.
Before peeling away from the curb, Eddie thrust a bottle at him. Gatorade. Lemon-lime.
“Drink that,” he ordered. Buck did.
“Thanks,” Buck said, wiping the back of his hand against his mouth. “You mad at me?”
“Mad?” Eddie frowned. “No. Worried, maybe.”
“Okay,” Buck said. “Can I crash with you?”
“You don’t have to ask,” Eddie said.
They hit a red light and Eddie looked over, studying him. Buck saw it in his periphery. He wished he were sitting in the backseat so he could watch Eddie in the rearview and wait to be scolded. Or otherwise he wished Eddie would do what he always did: notice that Buck was off, put it together, decide what to do with him, not just because he was observant and he always seemed to know stuff like that, no matter who it was, but because he knew Buck, because he was Buck’s—something.
“Buck, buddy,” Eddie sighed after a moment.
“Light’s green,” Buck murmured.
Eddie turned back to the road. He continued, “Look, I know things have been… tough.” His jaw ticked forward; he spoke steadily. Soothing. “But we gotta talk to each other. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
Buck was beginning to realize was that there was so much you couldn’t say in the face of that kind of unconditional acceptance. Eddie thought he was good. Trustworthy. Of course he wouldn’t be mad. He’d be disappointed. That was worse.
“Man,” Buck said. “You’re such a great dad.”
He was. He couldn’t even help it. He seemed startled that Buck would say so. If he replied to the non-sequitur, it fuzzed out in Buck’s ears. Buck leaned his head against the window and sighed. Brooks & Dunn on the radio, the engine humming, Eddie’s hand, suddenly, reaching out, giving him a solid, comforting clap on the shoulder. Come on, champ, Buck imagined Eddie saying, Talk to me. I’m gonna love you no matter what. That’s my job. What a confusing blur. Maybe if he pretended he was drunker than he was, Eddie would half-carry him through the front door, and put him to bed.
are you a lacy lingerie person or cotton underwear person? are you a long nails or short nails person? contacts or glasses person? lipstick or lipbalm?
#prev how about they fuck and then he throttles him with tears in his eyes. and then he has a violent breakdown. YES PLEASEEE
he would love (hate) to have strange sex with his perfect clone, then slowly watch the light leave his eyes as he dies limp like a sacrificial lamb as he strangles him (or perhaps fights until there's scratches all over his body?) and then feel so overcome with terrible terrible guilt he does not know what to do with himself because he just violently ended the one chance he had at ever being good