dance all over me
In which Buck gives Eddie a lap dance, because that’s what bros do. (2.8k words, rated E)
It starts with a conversation over breakfast. Bobby’s frying potatoes as Hen and Chim, not long back from a med call, explain how they've just saved a mom from potential paralysis after she fell on her head while pole dancing. Eddie’s only half-listening, sipping coffee tiredly, when Buck says, “I used to pole dance” and his elbow slips off the edge of the table.
A moment of silence follows Buck’s statement. Then Chimney asks, “When? Why?” at the same time Hen says, “But you're all… legs.”
“Exactly,” Buck retorts, preening a little. Eddie can't quite find any words, because his brain is stuck on a loop and all he can hear is ‘I used to pole dance’. He looks across the table at Hen and Chim, but they seem to have recovered quicker than him and are leaning forward, ready to pounce.
“I assume this was a phase during your misspent youth?” Hen asks. Beside Eddie, Buck shrugs.
“I guess. It was when I was in Peru. I tended bar but it didn't always get the best tips. One night they needed a dancer so I volunteered. Did a few lap dances, a bit of stripping, and started training to use the pole.”
Delighted, Chimney snaps his gum. “Can you show us some moves? We have our very own pole, after all.”
“Absolutely not,” Bobby interrupts. He looks like he's trying very hard not to listen to the conversation, but is failing miserably.
Eddie clears his throat. He's aware that he's been quiet for too long. He's just surprised, is all. Buck may be many things but graceful isn't a word Eddie would usually associate with him. It's difficult to imagine him half-naked, elegantly curling around a pole in a dimly-lit bar somewhere.
“I probably wouldn't be able to do it anymore, anyway,” Buck says mournfully.
Hen hums, assessing Buck over the rim of her mug. “I bet drunk college girls on spring break absolutely bankrupted themselves on you.”
“And guys. What can I say, I give a good lap dance.”
A high-pitched noise escapes Eddie’s mouth involuntarily. He tries to cover it with a gulp of coffee but it's too late, all eyes at the table are now on him.
“What?” Buck asks, defensive, like he's waiting for Eddie to make a judgy comment. But Eddie would never. He knows Buck well enough to understand the motivations behind it; the people-pleasing, overcompensating for his insecurities with his looks, enjoying the attention when he was feeling lost and alone.
“I just–” Eddie starts, feeling his cheeks turn red even as he wills them not to, “I just can't picture you with that much… rhythm.”
Read the rest at AO3
