You can read my new Buddie fic here.
"I hate Valentine's Day." Eddie looks at him in surprise as he unexpectedly enters the house. Buck walks into the living room, sits down on the sofa, takes off his shoes, and puts his feet up on the coffee table.
"Hi, Buck. I'm fine too, and it's great to see you. Thanks for asking. Come on in, and of course you can put your feet on the table. It doesn't matter that we put food there." Eddie responds with a smile as he sits down next to him. "What's going on?"
"Why do you think something's going on?" He hears the indignation in his voice, crosses his arms, takes his feet off the table, and then looks Eddie straight in the eye, as if trying to prove that nothing is happening. But unfortunately for him, he meets his best friend's tender gaze and after three seconds he has to look away. He focuses on the hair he can see on his chest thanks to the green shirt with three unbuttoned buttons that Buck gave him on his last birthday. "Seriously, why do you think something's going on with me?"
"Come on, Buck, you're the most transparent person I know." It's the first time he's ever heard that in his life. Usually, people have a hard time reading his emotions and thoughts. "Besides, it's weird for you to come in throwing a tantrum."
"I'm not throwing a tantrum!" Eddie laughs, puts a hand on his knee, which makes him forget everything he was feeling, then his friend disappears into the kitchen and comes back with two open beers and hands him one.
"So what's bothering you? You're avoiding my eyes, you're moving your legs and hands a lot, and you have that expression that something is upsetting you, but you don't want to talk about it, yet you need to. That usually happens when you're upset."
He doesn't know how to respond to that. How the hell did Eddie get to know so much about him? Instead of scaring him, it makes him feel good, recognized, truly seen. And that scares him even more.
The silence becomes unbearable. He leaves his beer on the coffee table and reclines further on the sofa, staring at the ceiling and focusing on his breathing. What is it that really bothers him? Is it that Eddie knows him so well that it makes him feel predictable? Or is it the other issue that he can't even admit to himself, not even in his thoughts?
He stops crossing his arms and puts his hands clasped on his abdomen, turns his head toward Eddie, who watches him calmly, sitting on the corner of the sofa, one hand on the backrest, the other holding the beer and taking a small sip.
"You know you don't have to tell me anything, right?" Eddie puts his hand back on his knee. It was a bad idea to wear shorts today; the direct touch sends electric signals throughout his body, especially in his crotch. "But you seem like you need to talk, or we could talk about something else. Why do you hate Valentine's Day?"
"How do you know that's not what's bothering me?" Eddie gives him a look and a smile, the kind that tell him he knows him well. Buck takes a sip of his beer. "People are so fake! Have you noticed that?" Another sip, almost finishing it.
"Are you talking about people in general or on Valentine's Day? Because in both cases, I realized it when I was six, but I'm listening." Eddie's sarcasm breaks the strange feeling in his stomach once again, which is replaced by butterflies and the urge to kiss him until exhaustion.
"All the love they show on this holiday is so fake. Lies created by corporations and restaurants to recoup the money they overspent on Christmas."
"Who are you and what did you do to Buck? You're the cheesiest man I know! Not only that, I think you're one of the few people who truly love love. I remember when we met, you told me that Valentine's Day is one of your three favorite holidays of the year, behind Christmas and Halloween. I remember because I thought you were crazy."
"You said it to my face." Buck finishes his beer. It's not a complaint; in fact, he suspects that was one of the moments he started to fall in love with Eddie. His sincere and direct way of saying things, without worrying about his feelings but caring for them at the same time, is a very particular way of treating him that he has never experienced with anyone else in the world.
"So you remember." Eddie finishes his beer too, takes the bottle from his hand, and disappears into the kitchen.
Buck stares at the ceiling. Eddie is right, he needs to talk about this or he'll explode. And he can't keep pretending he hates Valentine's Day when what bothers him is...
"Here you go." Eddie hands him another beer and sits down next to him.
"Tommy's getting married."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
annaxmalina
titsay
gummygunk
germansingergirl
