you all hate the position i sleep in because you haven’t advanced to my level and you’re jealous of my mental acuity and caustic wit as well as being extremely good at sleeping
@elvensorceress and @clusterbuck tagged me in seven sentence sunmonday... how about an entire fic instead?
Evan Buckley loves like no man Eddie’s ever met. He’s loud with it, practically shouts it from the rooftop, except– he doesn’t say it out loud. At least, not in so many words. Especially not since Taylor.
He’ll say it to Christopher, voice low and reverent, like he’s still not sure he’s allowed. He’ll say it to Jee-Yun too, high-pitched and giggly. He tells Maddie every time he gets the chance, Eddie knows, but the rest of them– Buck doesn’t tell them, he shows them.
He shows his love in wide grins and carefully concealed surprises; he shows it in remembered coffee orders and research binges, and by offering a hand before any of them ever has a chance to ask for help.
Buck doesn’t need words to express himself, not the way Eddie always has; the love he has for the people around him is brilliant and unmistakable and spills from his every pore. It’s one of the many (many) things Eddie’s come to realize he loves about him.
It’s also the reason Eddie nearly chokes on his coffee when Buck slings an arm around Hen’s shoulder after she beats him at Mario Kart and with a laugh says, “Love you, Hen.”
Hen smiles, soft and warm, and pat’s his hand. “Love you too, Buckaroo,” she replies. “Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you, though.”
Buck snorts and retrieves his controller from the coffee table. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says.
And that’s the end of that, just a weird little blip on Eddie’s Buck-radar, except it keeps happening.
“Hey, uh, you know I love you, right Bobby?” Buck says, staring intently at the bell pepper he’s chopping.
Bobby looks up from his sauce, and Eddie would swear he’s a little misty-eyed. “I love you too, kid,” he says.
Buck meets his eye with a soft smile, and they both go back to cooking.
It’s weird, Eddie decides, but nice. It’s clearly making Buck happy, and at the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.
Only– he says it to Chimney, next, and then Hen again, and then Albert the next time they see him. He even says it to Ravi who, honestly, they’ve only known him for like a year, and Eddie likes the kid but–
Maybe this is the kind of thing Eddie should bring up in therapy. It’s just– Buck’s said it to everyone except him, and for the life of him, Eddie can’t figure out why.
Have you considered asking him? The Frank-adjacent voice in his head suggests.
Eddie hates the Frank-adjacent voice. Especially when it’s right.
/
“Come over for dinner tonight?” Eddie asks, desperately trying to sound normal. It is normal! Buck’s at his house more often than the loft these days, and it’s decidedly Not Weird for Eddie to invite him over.
Except maybe it is, because Buck fixes him with a strange look and asks, “Everything okay, Eds?”
Eddie forces a shrug. “‘Course,” he says. “I just think Christopher’s tired of my cooking.”
Hiding behind your son? The Frank-adjacent voice asks, but Buck grins, so Eddie considers it a win.
“Wouldn’t want him to starve,” Buck jokes. “I’ll be there. Are we still out of tomato paste?”
Eddie resists the urge to thump his chest when his heart skips a beat at the word ‘we’. He feels– ridiculous, honestly. Like a fourteen year old with a crush, instead of a grown man who’s perfectly, reasonably in love with his best friend. “I, uh– yeah, I think so. Haven’t been to the store since we went on Monday.”
“Gotcha, I’ll pick some up on the way over. See you tonight, Diaz!” Buck shoulders his bag and winks. He winks.
And Eddie – yeah, Eddie’s blushing. As soon as Buck’s gone, he sticks his head in his locker and groans.
A weight settles next to him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Hen asks.
Yeah. Eddie knows that.
/
“Honey, I’m home!” Buck calls as he lets himself in.
It’s a joke, Eddie knows it’s a joke, but it sends his pulse fluttering all the same. “In the kitchen,” he calls back, praying that his voice doesn’t sound too choked.
“Hey,” Buck says as he leans against the doorframe, softer and more genuine.
“Hey,” Eddie replies, and even that comes out a little breathless.
And how is he supposed to ask Buck about all the ‘I love you’s if he can’t even manage a normal conversation?
“You better not have touched the stove,” Buck murmurs, easy and fond in a way Eddie’d once been afraid they’d lost.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie replies, laughing despite himself. He takes the bag of groceries from Buck and begins to unpack it, if for no other reason than to give his hands something to do.
He swears it wasn’t always like this. Even when he’d first realized his feelings for Buck ran a hell of a lot deeper than friendship, he’d been perfectly capable of maintaining the status quo. It’s just– ridiculous, actually, because now that Eddie’s heard Buck say it to everyone else, he’s kind of dying to hear it directed towards him. And apparently wanting that has opened the floodgates to wanting a whole bunch of other things, which Frank says is a good thing, but Eddie’s not so sure because what he really wants is to push Buck up against the wall and–
“What’s going on up here?” Buck asks, suddenly in front of him and tapping his index finger against Eddie’s temple. “You’ve been weird all day.”
Eddie’s instinct is to deflect, but he’d promised Buck and himself that he’d talk about the things that bother him so– “You keep telling everyone you love them,” he blurts.
Buck’s brow furrows, and he takes a step back. “And that’s… a bad thing?”
“No, god, of course not,” Eddie says, catching Buck’s wrist and tugging softly until Buck steps back into his space. “I just…”
A small frown appears on Buck’s lips. His head tips ever so slightly to the right. “Just what?” he asks.
“You keep telling everyone… except me.”
All at once, Buck’s expression turns impossibly fond. “I’ve been seeing Doctor Copeland again,” he says.
“I… know?”
Whatever face Eddie makes at the sudden change in subject must be interesting, because Buck laughs and lifts his hand to drag his thumb across the corner of Eddie’s lips. “I know you know,” he says. “I told her, recently, that sometimes it’s still hard to believe that the people I love, love me too.”
“Buck,” Eddie interrupts, unable to stop himself.
He laughs softly and wriggles his fingers until Eddie gets the message and releases his wrist so he can twine them together with his. “I know,” Buck says, and Eddie thinks yeah, maybe he does.
Eddie nods for him to continue.
“Anyway,” Buck says, “She said that it might help to have concrete reminders. And that if I told people how I felt about them–”
“They’d tell you the same,” Eddie finishes.
“Exactly,” Buck says. “She said it didn’t have to be anything serious, that I could just tell people casually. So, I did.”
“And it’s helping?” Eddie asks.
Buck ducks his head and grins. “Yeah, it’s helping.”
Eddie bites his lip. “I still don’t understand–”
“Why I haven’t said it to you?” Buck looks up from under his lashes.
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