"Hey, Buck, guess you're out on a call. Should've known. Bell probably rang the moment I dropped my last fare off. Anyway, just calling to check in. Hope it's an easy one! Call me back when you get a chance."
"Hey, Buck. You would not believe the ride I just had. Had to take them all the way up to Mesquite. Dead silence the whole time. And they weren't even on their phone! Whatever. It was an extortionate fee, thank God. And they tipped pretty well, but I was bored out of my mind. Hope you're having more fun than me. Call me back."
"Goddamn, you're busy today. Ravi say quiet again? Go easy on the kid. He can't be blamed for your crazy superstitions. Be safe. And call me!"
"Hey, Buck, hope you're doing okay. You've been MIA for hours, and I'm not above admitting I'm a little worried. Got my fingers crossed it's a bunch of fender benders. Nothing big. Just let me know you're good, okay? Even if it's just texting me an emoji from the back of the truck."
"Buck, come on, man. Jesus, I feel crazy. I don't think we've gone this long without speaking since I got out here. Chris has been making fun of me all night for being glued to my phone. Says I'm worse than his friend Jason waiting for Miley to text him back. Like I'm some lovesick teenager. Um. Anyway... Please just let me know you're okay. I'm worried sick over here."
"So many fucking voicemails and I just realised you won't even be able to listen to them if you're that busy. I feel like an idiot. I'm gonna hang up and text you. Please ignore my spiralling when you get home. God, you probably think something's wrong. Fuck. Idiot. We're fine. Everything's fine. I just miss you. Anyway."
Hey, Buck, ignore my voicemails. Nothing's wrong! Everything's fine, I'm just worried about you.
you swore you’d never give in to the maid of honour and best man cliche. and then you met evan buckley.
evan buckley x female reader
warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol. buck’s a filthy flirt.
word count - 6k
authors note - and so she returns!! thank you all so much for your loveliness on my post about my break - I appreciate it more than you know. this one was so much fun to write. i’ve not written any longer stuff for buck, but he’s a character I feel that I have a really good understanding of - I actually think we’re very alike - so this came so easy. hope you love it as much as I do. <3
masterlist. inbox.
Silvery melodies of laughter clink off the rim of the champagne flute you hold in your freshly manicured hand. As the gentle breeze whips through the material of your dress, you look around you, realising you’ve never seen so many people so happy at once.
The backyard of the Italian villa is packed, dozens of guests milling around - dancing, drinking, chatting and catching up. Family, friends, colleagues; people from every phase of the bride and grooms life, all celebrating together in one place.
A rocks glass is placed down onto the table in front of you with a thud. Looking up, you’re met with the sight of the best man towering over you expectantly with a drink in his hand.
“Evan.”
“Hi gorgeous.”
You scoff, staring up at him through your lashes.
“What’s this?”
“A drink.”
“Yeah. But why?”
“It’s whiskey. I watched you grimace every time you had to drink the champagne, so I thought you’d want something different.”
You swirl the glass, listening to the tinkle of the ice against the sides.
“You were watching me, huh?”
“Of course I was. Can’t take my eyes off you in that dress.”
“Shut up,” you chide, fighting to keep the grin off your face. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Doing what, exactly?”
“The whole best man and maid of honour thing. It’s just too cliched.”
He laughs all hearty and genuine, and you poignantly ignore the way the butterflies start fluttering in your stomach.
“Then why do you keep looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to eat me.”
Now it’s your turn to laugh, shaking your head at him.
“Yeah, right. In your dreams, Evan.”
“Oh, you will be,” he winks, knocking his glass against yours in a quick cheers before walking off to the find the groom.
You watch him go, not completely oblivious to the way his suit fits him just right. Determined to stand your ground, you inhale a deep breath before taking a sip of your drink. The drink that definitely isn’t exactly what you needed. The drink that he’d practically read your mind to figure out. Effortlessly.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It’s been like this all day.
You met Evan Buckley for the first time last night, at the rehearsal dinner. The bride, your best friend in the world, kept telling you that you’d love the best man.
“He’s from California,” she’d said. “He’s Danny’s friend from when they were kids. He’s a firefighter, babe. He’s hot.”
You’d laughed it off, zipping up the back of her dress while she watched you in the mirror.
“Oh, come on. That’s so cliched. The whole maid of honour and best man thing is so old, Lucy.”
“You’re single, he’s single,” she’d protested. “It’d do you some good to get laid, relieve some stress. And people let their guards down at weddings. Now’s your chance.”
“If I wanted to get laid, I’d get laid,” you scoffed.
“All I’m saying is that Buck is completely your type. He’s gorgeous, he’s funny, he’s sweet. And you’re gonna have to spend a fair bit of time together tonight and tomorrow, so… just keep an open mind.”
“Fine,” you soothed, rolling your eyes. “Mind wide open. Alright?”
“You’re gonna love him.”
“You said that already.”
“Because I really believe it. You’re gonna love him.”
And the problem is… she was kind of right.
No, you don’t love him. You’ve known him for 48 hours. But… there’s something.
Lucy wasn’t lying. He is gorgeous, and funny, and sweet. And hot. So hot. He showed up to the rehearsal dinner in dress pants and a linen shirt, all sun kissed and muscled and tanned and stunning.
The two of you were seated next to each other, planned so carefully by the bride and groom. One minute you were making cautious introductions, shaking hands and smiling gently. The next minute you were crying with laughter, clutching at his bicep as he grabs your thigh, legs intertwined and chairs pulled together.
Lucy and Danny nudge each other occasionally, watching the both of you get along like two old friends that have known each other forever. A look passes between them that says I told you so clear as day.
But you’re stubborn. Too stubborn, some may say. You know you’ll never hear the end of it from your friends if you give into this very alluring temptation, and perhaps your pride means a bit more to you than it should. So you resist, you refuse to give in. Even if you really want to.
And that was just last night. Today has been even worse.
By worse, you mean the connection between you and Evan has grown even stronger. You walked down the aisle with him, arm linked with his, both dressed up to the nines. The maid of honour and the best man, a perfect picture.
You haven’t been able to keep your hands off each other all day. Little touches - his fingers on the small of your back, your grip on his bicep, shoulders brushing and thighs pressed together. Nothing crazy, but nothing meaningless, either. There’s an undeniable electricity buzzing between you, hot and alive.
You’re not sure how much longer you can deny it.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You’re dancing with Lucy and her little nieces when you hear yelling and commotion coming from the other side of the dance floor. Looking over, you see Danny, Evan and other groomsmen flailing around and fussing.
“What happened?” Lucy’s yelling, making her way over with you in tow.
“Just a drink spillage, Luce! But it’s red wine, and now Buck’s shirt is pink.”
You look at the man in question and can’t help but laugh. His crisp white dress shirt is now a pretty shade of pink across the front, his cheeks a rosy colour to match.
“Stop laughing,” he chides, but he’s grinning at you as he says it. “I need to go and change. I have a spare shirt in my suitcase upstairs.”
He starts to leave, but soon turns around and calls your name.
“I don’t have a key for that big door at the end of the hallway to get to our rooms. Do you?”
“Yeah, it’s in my purse. You want it?”
“Just come with me. It’ll be easier.”
Before you can argue, he’s taken off, big strides across the garden. You have to practically run in your heels to keep up with him, shaking your head in frustration.
“I could have just given you this,” you say when you reach the door, unlocking it for him.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
The smirk he gives you is so cheeky, it’s a wonder you don’t smack it off his face. Cocky bastard.
“You’re so annoying,” you mumble, walking with purpose to his room.
“Come in with me? It’ll only take a minute, then we can walk back together.”
You know you should say no, tell him that you’ll meet him downstairs. But you don’t. Instead, you say,
“Fine. But hurry up. I don’t wanna miss the party.”
“Yes ma’am,” he mock salutes, unlocking the door to his room that’s conveniently directly across from yours.
You take a seat on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid watching him undress. He shrugs off his now pink shirt, taking it with him into the bathroom.
You’re surprised at how tidy everything is. Not that you think Evan would be particularly messy, but he doesn’t strike you as a neat and clean type. His suitcase is unpacked into the closet, bed made, nothing on the floor. It only makes you like him more.
“Can you grab my other shirt from the closet please, gorgeous? The one I wore last night for the rehearsal dinner.”
You swing the two doors open and rifle around, failing to see the linen button up that he’s looking for. Suddenly, you feel a warmth behind you, Buck’s solid form caging you in. He reaches around you, arm brushing yours as he finds what he needs.
“Found it,” he murmurs into your ear, all low and honeyed.
Against your better judgment, you turn around, finding yourself face to face with him. He towers over you, watching your reactions carefully. Your hands reach out and rest on his bare chest, steadying yourself before you either fall over or pass out.
Buck gently traces your bottom lip with his thumb, eyes completely locked on yours. You have to resist every urge to either bite it or suck it into your mouth, reminding yourself that now isn’t the time. The noise from the garden floats up and through the window that’s cracked open slightly, tethering you to the reality that is slowly fading away the longer you hold Evan’s gaze.
He leans in, and to your surprise, doesn’t kiss you immediately. Pressing his forehead to yours, he inhales deeply, as if committing the moment to memory. His thumbs are now tracing gentle circles on your jaw, soft and callous at the same time. You inhale slowly, processing the scent of his cologne mixed with the evening breeze. If you could bottle it up, you think, you’d be a millionaire. This would cure everything.
Buck finally closes down the gap between you, inching towards your lips softly. You shut your eyes, waiting for him to finally kiss you - when there’s deafening knocking on the door. The two of you jump apart, hearts pounding and nerves on a live wire.
Evan strides over to the source of the noise, taking a deep breath to try and compose himself as he goes. You perch on the edge of the bed, smoothing down your dress and attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible.
“Buck? Dude, it’s Jake. Hurry up, yeah? The guys wanna do our dance routine before everyone gets too drunk to remember it.”
He doesn’t bother opening the door, just yells back through the wood.
“Yeah, sure - I’ll be down in a minute!”
You hear Jake’s footsteps retreat, both of you exhaling the breaths you didn’t know you’d been holding. Buck looks at you, worried that the moment’s been ruined, to find you stifling a laugh behind your hand.
“There’s a dance routine?”
“Shut up,” he grumbles, fighting to keep the grin off his face. “We created it years ago. The guys won’t let it die.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to see this.”
You’re cackling, reclining onto the duvet as you laugh.
“Stop,” he groans, jumping over to flop onto his back on the bed next to you. “I did a lot of regrettable things in college… and that routine is definitely the worst of it.”
“I hope you know that you’re never going to live this down, Buckley. I’ll be reminding you of this forever.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbow so he can look at you. “You really like me, huh?”
“What the hell gave you that impression?”
“You said forever. What’s next, honey? You gonna get down on one knee later?”
You’re suddenly aware of the warmth of the whiskey flowing through your veins, giving you a liquid confidence that stuns both you and the man lying next to you.
“Two knees, maybe. But not one.”
His eyes go wide as you smirk, pulling yourself off the bed and making your way over to the door. Buck watches you carefully, gaze steady and firm.
“You coming? I’m more than ready to see those moves of yours.”
He stands up, slipping on his shoes and shrugging the clean shirt onto his broad shoulders. You grab your purse, leaning against the doorframe as you wait.
Evan reaches past you for the door handle, nose purposely brushing yours as he does it.
“I’ll hold you to what you said before,” he murmurs, moving a strand of hair away from your face softly. “Don’t think I won’t.”
You look up at him with big doe eyes, like butter wouldn’t melt.
“Sure, Evan,” you reply lowly. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Breaking away from him, you swing the door open, strutting down the hallway without looking back. Your confidence has sky rocketed, knowing that he wants this just as badly as you do. You walk back out to the garden and take your earlier seat, ready for the show you’ve been promised.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
The dance routine is spectacular.
It’s cheesy and hilarious and very early 2000s inspired - it’s almost like watching a music video from a boy band you loved when you were a teenager. It should embarrass you, turn you off majorly, but… it doesn’t. It only does the opposite.
Everything Buck does makes you like him more.
You spend the rest of the evening dancing, laughing, and floating on cloud nine. In a garden in Italy, surrounded by your best friends - you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be.
As the evening dwindles to an end, everyone slowly begins making their way back to their rooms within the villa. You sit down, unbuckling your heels to finally give your feet a rest. It almost feels like deja vu when a rocks glass is placed down in front of you on the table.
“Hi, Evan.”
“Hi gorgeous.”
“What’s this?”
“A drink.”
“Yes, but why?”
He pulls out the chair in front of you and sits down, looking at you intently.
“Thought we could have a nightcap before we go upstairs.”
You look around to find that mostly everyone has decided to call it a day. You can see Lucy and Danny walking off hand in hand, going for a stroll around the grounds before they let the wedding officially be over. It just leaves you and Buck, sat in your original places.
“Is this Baileys?”
“Yes ma’am. Do you like it? I figured you probably wouldn’t want another whiskey, seeing as you’ve had so many.”
You scoff, trying to fight the grin that threatens to take over your face.
“I’ve had, like, four, thank you very much.”
He holds his hands up in mock surrender, making you chuckle as you shake your head.
“Cheers, Evan,” you toast, clinking your glass against his matching one. “We did it. A wedding without a hitch. Mostly.”
“My shirt will never be white again, but besides that, we did a pretty good job.”
“We make a good team.”
He looks slightly taken aback by your honesty, trying to hide his smirk.
“Yes, we do. A super hot, super funny team.”
“A super hot, super funny team.”
You both laugh, heads thrown back with no cares in the world. Buck shuffles his chair forward so his legs are slotted on either side of you, warm skin radiating into yours. The moonlight is glinting off of his cheekbones, illuminating the light streaks in his hair. You’re a little tipsy and much too tired to fully fight your feelings anymore.
He’s beautiful, and you’re sick of denying it.
The two of you finish off your drinks, sat in a comfortable silence beneath the starry night sky. His hand has found its way onto your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle patterns into your bare skin. You’re sneaking glances at him when he looks away, admiring the way he’s glowing, buzzed off of the alcohol and the excitement of the day. He’s doing the same with you, soft smile etched onto his face as he watches you gaze up at the stars above your heads.
A yawn escapes you, making both of you chuckle.
“I’ll walk you to your room?”
“Well, you better. I’m the only one of us with a key for that big door.”
He laughs even harder, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I forgot about that. If you weren’t here, I’d have slept on the floor in the hallway or something.”
“Probably wouldn’t be the first time,” you mutter, standing up and tucking your chair under the table.
“Sorry, what was that? Say it again? Hmm? Hmm?” he wraps his arms around your middle, spinning you so your feet are no longer on the floor.
“Okay, okay! Put me down before I throw up,” you shriek, giggling like a teenager.
He places you back down, hands on your hips to steady you. You look up at him, keeping your eyes fixed on his to steady yourself from the dizziness. When you feel ready to go, you clear your throat, willing yourself to walk away before you kiss him stupid.
“We should go to bed,” you whisper, afraid to ruin the moment.
“Yeah?”
“Separate beds,” you tell him sternly, chuckling when he cackles.
“Yes ma’am.”
Buck walks you back to your room in a gentlemanly fashion, looping your arm through his to keep you both upright. When you reach your door, your fingers linger on the handle, as if you’re not quite ready to go inside just yet.
Reaching out gently, he moves a strand of hair from your face, fingertips brushing your cheekbone as he does it. You sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut at the sweet contact.
“Goodnight, gorgeous,” he murmurs lowly. “Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight.”
He takes a step back towards his door when you speak again.
“Evan?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Everything, today. You’ve been a damn good best man.”
“Well, thank you. For being the best maid of honour.”
You nod, smiling like an idiot as you unlock your door and shut it behind you. You take a deep breath when you’re finally inside, throwing down your heels onto the floor and your purse onto the side table. Reaching behind you, your fingers tug at the zipper on your dress, attempting to pull it down.
It’s only now you realise your dilemma. The zipper is on an awkward place on your back, right where you can’t get to. You think quickly back to this morning - one of the bridesmaids doing the dress up for you, pulling the material taut as she fastened it. You’re not going to be able to get this off yourself.
Finding the purse that you discarded minutes earlier, you aim to find a hair clip. If you can loop a bobby pin into the zipper, you think, you might be able to pull it yourself. You root around in it for a second, before pulling out two phones.
Well, fuck.
You’d completely forgotten that Evan had given it to you earlier in the evening, worried that it was going to get broken if it stayed in his back pocket. You’d tucked it away and not thought about it again.
Until now.
Now, you’re realising that you’re going to have to go and give it back. He probably hasn’t remembered that you have it, otherwise you’re sure he’d be knocking on the door or yelling across the hallway.
You stand in the middle of your room, with two phones and a stuck zipper, wondering if the universe thinks this is funny.
You’re certainly not laughing.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
“Evan?”
He swings the door open, facing you in his suit trousers with no shirt on.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Yeah. I, uh, I have your phone.”
Holding it out to him, his fingertips brush yours as he takes it from you, sending a shiver up your spine.
“Oh, shit. I forgot about this. Thanks, pretty.”
“Of course.”
You stand and look at each other for a second, so much left unsaid.
“Can I ask you for a favour?”
“Anything.”
His instantly willingness has butterflies fluttering in your stomach, flitting and lightweight and undeniable.
“Can you help me get my dress off?”
When he smirks and goes to speak, you cut him off quickly.
“The zipper is stuck, Evan. Alice zipped me up this morning and I can’t undo it by myself.”
“This is a very long winded way of asking me to get you naked, gorgeous.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes.
“If that’s what I wanted, I would just ask you, Buckley.”
“Uh huh. Sure.”
“Can you help me or not?”
He’s laughing, now, head thrown back with it. You hate the way it makes your heart sing.
“You coming in? Or you want me to undress you in the hallway?”
“You’re not undressing- fuck, you’re annoying.”
He’s still chuckling when he ushers you inside, shutting the door firmly behind you both.
“How do you wanna do this? Lights on, lights off? Curtains open or shut? Music? Candles?”
“Undo the damn zipper before I smack you.”
His laughter is rumbling through his chest, contagious in its nature. You want to be angry at him, but you just can’t seem to find it in you.
“Turn around, gorgeous.”
You spin to face the door, taking a deep breath as you anticipate his touch. You feel his warmth behind you, fingertips dancing over the skin of your shoulders before they reach your zipper. You can’t see him, but you can envisage the sight - his broad chest, thick neck, that beautiful sun kissed glow he’s developed over the past few days. Your lungs heave as the room suddenly feels like it’s a thousand degrees.
Buck slides the zipper down your back slowly, with intent and clarity. When it reaches your coccyx, he stops, resting his other hand on your hip to keep you steady.
You know you should step away, maybe throw him a quick thanks as you leave. But you do believe in fate, whether you like to admit it or not - and this entire night has felt like it’s been written in the stars.
Who are you to deny what the universe is so clearly gifting you?
You let your arms relax, sighing as the dress falls off of you and down to the floor. You step out of it, finally turning around to face Buck wearing nothing but your lacy white underwear. Surprisingly, there’s not an ounce of self consciousness in your body. The only thing you feel is desire.
For the first time since you’ve met him, Evan is completely speechless. His eyes rove over you, drinking in the sight in front of him, and he has to remind himself to breathe.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in awe, fingers itching to reach out and touch you. “The minute I first saw you, I couldn’t believe you were real.”
“Evan?”
“Yeah?”
“Touch me, please.”
He grins, surging forward to cup your cheek with one hand while the other finds its home on your waist.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
“Finally.”
Buck leans in and presses his lips to yours surprisingly gently, testing the waters. You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling him as close as possible. He gets the message, reeling you in and deepening the kiss until you can’t tell where he ends and you begin.
You’re being walked backwards and into the wall, pushed up against it for leverage. You hike a leg up over Bucks hip, groaning when the two of you grind forwards at the same time. His hands are everywhere - your face, tits, ass, waist - anywhere he can reach. It’s like he’s not quite sure where he wants them, as if he’s worried he’ll leave somewhere untouched.
“You’re all I’ve thought about for two days,” he’s muttering into your neck as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your skin. “Driving me crazy.”
“I got myself off last night,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut when he sucks at the spot under your ear. “Thinking about you.”
“Fuck,” he moans, sinking down to his knees in front of you. “Tell me more. Please.”
It’s almost biblical, the sight of him. On his knees, practically begging, looking up at you like you’re his saviour. You’re dizzy with the power, blood rushing straight to your head.
Buck presses kisses into your leg, starting at your calves and moving up. When he gets to your inner thigh, he gazes up at you, pleading with his eyes for you to continue.
“Tell me more or I’ll stop,” he says sternly, hooking his fingers into your underwear to pull them down and off.
“Okay, okay,” you pant, dropping your head back against the wall. “I, I- I couldn’t stop thinking about your arms in that shirt. The, the, the-”
You’re stuttering as he licks a stripe up your core, diving in with no hesitation. His fingers are gripping your thighs so hard you know it’ll bruise, and you can’t wait to feel the imprints in the morning.
“The?”
He’s pulled away to look at you with his brow quirked, dirty smirk etched across his face.
“Keep going, gorgeous. You haven’t even got to the good part. Neither of us have.”
You scoff at him in defiance, but slide your fingers into his hair to tug him back to where you want him.
“You looked so strong,” you continue, sighing when his tongue finds your core again. “Kept thinking about how easily you could throw me around. Pick me up, sit me on your face…”
Buck groans, all deep and rumbled, and the vibrations have your legs going weak. He doubles down on his efforts, slipping his tongue inside as his nose nudges your clit. He’s a fast learner, taking mental note of the spots and pressures that make your knees buckle.
“Keep going,” he mumbles into your core.
“You keep going,” you retort, pulling at his hair.
He chuckles but obliges your request, sucking your clit into his mouth with purpose. You’re shaking, holding onto him for dear life as you reach your climax. The moan you let out is borderline pornographic, and it has Buck palming himself over his suit trousers with a groan.
“Fuck, Evan,” you pant, chest heaving as you slump into the wall. “You need to grab me before I collapse. My legs are jelly.”
Laughing as he does it, he stands up and wraps his arms around your middle, holding you against him as tightly as he can.
“You okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss into your hair.
“Better than ever.”
He rests his lips on your forehead, both of you breathing each other in for a moment.
“Can’t believe you were right across the hallway from me, trying to be quiet while you were getting yourself off,” he murmurs, fingers running up and down your back. “You should have come over here. I would have helped you.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” you tease, cupping his face in your hands. “I was still acting like I didn’t wanna rip your clothes off back then.”
“Knew you’d crack eventually,” he winks, grinning when you laugh.
You pull him into you for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, clearly telling him exactly what you want.
“You gonna fuck me, Evan? Or are we just gonna stand here all night?”
He shakes his head with a smirk before throwing you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce back off. As he starts to crawl over to you, you stop him with a foot on his chest.
“Nuh uh. You’re wearing too many clothes. Strip, Buckley.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He’s standing up immediately, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them off in one fell swoop. His boxers are next, leaving him stood bare and beautiful in front of you.
“Fuck. You’re not real,” you breathe out, eyes dancing over him.
“Oh I am so real,” he’s reassuring, situating himself on top of you.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down so you can grind your hips into his.
“I’ve been waiting two days for this,” you murmur into his lips. “Make it worth my while, please.”
“Careful what you wish for,” he teases, kissing you again with such a force that you’re dizzy.
Buck sucks a bruise into your collarbone, licking a stripe up your sternum and tasting the salt that sits on your skin. Your patience is wearing thinner and thinner, anticipation bubbling up in your veins.
“How’d you want it?” he whispers into your ear.
“Just- deep. Wanna feel you for the rest of the weekend.”
He groans, a breathless chuckle leaving his lips.
“Anything you want, gorgeous. I’ll give you anything you want. Anything in the world.”
His lust drunk rambling makes you giggle, wiggling your hips into his to hopefully hurry him up. You tug at his hair, pulling his face so it’s level with yours.
“Now, Evan. Can’t wait any longer. Please.”
“Fuck. You’re so pretty when you beg.”
He lines himself up, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you connect. He’s big and he’s stretching you out just right and you think you might have died and gone to heaven. You both groan, panting into each others mouths.
“Fuck, baby. It’s like you were made for me.”
The baby sends warmth running through both your core and your heart, all the signals setting your nervous system on fire.
“Please,” you whimper, kissing him with desperation as you tangle your fingers in his curls and pull. “Please, Evan.”
“I’ve got you,” he’s mumbling, pulling his hips back and sliding them forwards with clear intent.
Reaching up beside your head, Buck pulls a pillow down and situates it under your hips, putting you where he wants you.
“Want you to feel me as deep as possible,” he murmurs, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. “Won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
You can only moan at the promise, praying he delivers. There’s a shiny sheen of sweat covering his sun kissed skin, making him glow in the moonlight like some sort of angel. Sent just for you.
Buck sets a steady rhythm, not too fast but just fast enough. He clearly knows what he’s doing, and you ignore the pang of jealousy in your chest at the idea of him with another woman, even in the past.
Now that you’ve had a taste of this, you don’t want to let it go.
He’s pressing kisses onto whatever skin he can reach - your neck, your collarbone, underneath your ear. His hips never cease, determined to get you both to where you need to be. When he hitches one of your legs over his waist, you can’t help but drop your head back, eyes fluttering shut at the new angle.
He tilts his hips upwards, and hits a spot that has you keening. Speech has left you, and all you can do now is take it like you were made for it.
“Right there? Yeah? That’s it, isn’t it?”
You nod frantically, sucking in a shuddering breath like you’ve been under water. Your legs have started to shake, and Buck’s grinning when he thinks about how far he can push you before you’re at your limit.
“Come on, pretty girl. Give it to me.”
You’re so close you can taste it, desperate to find this release that’s been building for the last forty eight hours. When Buck moves his hand from your hip to your throat and squeezes just slightly, you snap.
You’re coming with a breathless moan, back arching into him to plaster your fronts together.
“Shit, you look so beautiful when you come. Jesus.”
You manage a soft smile, looking up at him to see those bright eyes staring into yours. He looks entranced, as if he’s staring at a piece in an art gallery. You swipe his hair back from his sweaty forehead, teasing your thumb across his bottom lip. When he sucks it into his mouth, your jaw drops open, mind foggy with arousal.
“Think you can give me another one? Let me see you come all pretty again?” he asks around your digit, tongue laving over your skin.
“Mhmm,” you’re agreeing before you can even process it, eager to please.
“That’s my girl.”
He moves your fingers from his mouth back into his hair as his find your throat once more, applying a little pressure. His hips pick up their pace, faster and harder than before. He’s fucking you into the mattress, strong arms keeping you from sliding off the bed.
He looks breathtaking, on top of you like this. He’s so broad, towering over you like he’ll shield you from the entire world if he has to. It feels like it’s just the two of you in the whole universe, unbothered by anything or anyone else.
“Buck- I… I-”
“I know, baby. Can feel it. Atta girl.”
You pull him down to kiss you as you reach your third climax of the night, arms wrapping around his neck so every inch of you is pressed together.
“There we go, good girl. That’s it, yeah. It’s yours, baby. It’s all yours.”
Buck finally finds his release, triggered by yours. His head drops into your neck, his frantic breath tickling your skin. You murmur sweet nothings into his ear, talking him through it as he shudders and shakes. Eventually, he collapses completely onto you, body weight pinning you down.
You’re both heaving for air, lungs burning as you try to regain an ounce of composure.
He murmurs something into your shoulder, the vibrations of it rumbling through your bones.
“Hmm?”
“You called me Buck.”
A breathless laugh escapes you, silvery and melodic.
“I’ve been trying not to for two days.”
“I know. You thought you were making a point.”
“I was making a point.”
“Sure, honey. Sure.”
“I hate you,” you grumble, but you can’t wipe the grin off your face. “I also hate that we’ve just made Lucy and Danny the happiest people ever.”
“Oh, shit. I hate it when they’re right.”
He pulls his head from your neck to look at you, resting his cheek against your chest so he can gaze up and into your eyes.
“I’m sure we can keep this a secret for a little while.”
“Yeah… we can’t.”
You quirk your brow at him in a silent question.
“I told Danny I was gonna marry you the minute you walked into the rehearsal dinner in that red dress. Can’t hide how I feel about you, gorgeous. It’s physically impossible.”
You can’t help but laugh, running your fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp.
“Take me on a date first. Then we’ll talk about marriage, okay?”
“You did say forever, earlier.”
“That I did. Maybe my heart knew something my brain didn’t.”
Buck grins up at you, all blinding and giddy.
“The best man and the maid of honour, huh?”
“That old cliche,” you chuckle. “We weren’t the first, and we won’t be the last.”
“You’ll be my last, gorgeous.”
“Real smooth, Buck. Real smooth.”
“Buck,” he whispers, half in amusement, half in awe.
He could get used to this. You both could.
as always, reblogs are like gold to writers. if you enjoyed this, please reblog!! it’s invaluable <3
Eddie's barely stepped into the station before Buck is on him, tugging with a hand at his elbow into the empty locker room. Walls of glass glinting in the early morning sun flooding into the bay.
"Buck—"
"I'm so sorry Eddie," Buck says before Eddie can get a word out.
Buck’s voice breaks as he speaks, eyes big and watery, his hand warm and solid on Eddie's bicep. Grounding. Eddie inhales, feeling it all through a filter; numb and dull and too much all at once.
He looks away, squinting at the sunlight bleeding through their open hideaway, blinding in it's reflection. Honestly, someone should do something about all the glass. It's a safety hazard, if nothing else.
"Who told you?" he asks in a rough voice. Eddie sets his bag down and tries to pull away, but Buck is steadfast, keeping him where he is with almost no effort. The fight’s just not in him, not today.
"Chris," Buck answers, expression fracturing, and Eddie's heart fractures with it. How many times can he do this to his son?
Except he didn't do this. Abuela's heart did this, when it decided to stop beating. Time did this, with its cruel, inevitable march. God did this, in all His unknowable eminence. For once, Eddie isn't to blame. For once, he doesn't have to bear the heavy burden of guilt on his shoulders.
Eddie sniffs. Tears prick in his eyes, throat tight, but he swallows it down. He has to keep moving, to think about his son.
"He tell you anything?" Eddie asks at last, pretending not to see the heartbroken pinch of Buck's brow. "He's been quiet. With me.”
Buck shakes his head. "Not too much. He's sad, of course, but I-I think he's okay."
Eddie nods, aiming his gaze at the floor. "He's a strong kid, stronger than I ever was at his age. He should—shouldn't have to go through this again so soon."
He doesn't look up, but he feels Buck's eyes boring into him. The sun is relentless, warming the room a preternatural heat, lighting up the dark corners, and yet he’s cold, waiting for the inevitable. Empty, well-meaning words like, she lived a good life, she went peacefully, she’s with God now. All the things he’s heard from countless family members over the last who knows how many hours. Words he’s heard too many times before, and never brought him a lick of comfort.
Instead, Buck says softly, "I wish you'd called me.”
Any other day, and Eddie's hackles would rise. Any other day and the weird energy between them would balloon and stretch, turn rancid and wrong, make him snap and push Buck away. But there's no accusation in his tone; nothing but gentleness, a trait he's always admired in Buck, always ached for, even when he didn't deserve it. Especially when he didn't deserve it.
There’s a muted sadness to his words as well, like he’s trying not to feel it in front of Eddie. Buck cared about his abuela too, of course. He loves Eddie’s family as fiercely as his own, nestled his way into their hearts with ease, and vice versa. He couldn’t look at it for too long, overwhelmed with something too big to comprehend any time he tried. He’s never quite been able to grapple with the enormity of Buck’s generous heart.
Eddie shakes his head, tears coming fast now, unavoidable. "I didn't—I had Pepa, and Chris, and my parents and sisters are flying in tomorrow. They—needed me."
"I know," Buck says.
He feels a finger under his chin, gently tilting Eddie's face up. It disappears as quickly as it came, Buck’s hand dropping to rest steadily on his shoulder.
"I still wish you had. I-I couldn't be there, last time. I wasn't there for you, but I am now. I can—pick up your parents and your sisters, o-or stay with Chris. I can cook, and drive you to the funeral, a-and be there with you, if you—if you want. If you'll let me."
The break is clean, a sharp shattering somewhere in his chest that Buck somehow anticipates. He wraps Eddie in his arms as the pulsing ache finally bursts, flooding his veins with everything he’s been carrying, the weight he can't hold anymore. The things he prayed for God to carry for him, in that grey room with Pepa’s hand in his, abuela still and cold one room away. The things that he thought would suffocate him in the pews beneath the stained glass and altar.
Buck holds it instead. For him, with him. There's hands on his back, smoothing over his jacket, too warm in the sunlight. He's not even sure if he's really crying—his cheeks are wet but he's mostly silent, breathing deep and ragged against Buck's neck, inhaling his aftershave. His chin digs into Buck’s chest in a way that must be painful, but he doesn't complain.
The glass reflects the sun in the mornings, shielding them as much as it ever can. He's grateful for the respite; Buck wouldn't have told the others, not without his blessing, but he knows he won't be able to hide it for long. He hides now, where he can catch his breath. Where Buck has him.
"I missed you," he mutters, muffled in Buck’s shirt.
Buck tenses for a millisecond, so brief Eddie could be imagining it, instinctively looking for tension from weeks of habit. But Buck doesn’t pull away—he feels his head knock gently against Eddie’s. They haven’t touched like this for a long time.
"Me too," Buck says quietly against Eddie's temple.
"I miss her. And Bobby. Shannon," he admits, safe in the crook of Buck's neck. Buck squeezes him tighter. "I miss everyone. And I can't—I don't want to miss you anymore."
Buck doesn’t tense, but he doesn’t answer for a long moment either. Eddie wishes he could see his face, but he can’t bring himself to separate, greedy for these pieces of Buck he’s missed like a limb.
"You don't have to," Buck says, a hundred unspoken promises in four words.
They stay like that until the sun is no longer blinding, until some of the warmth recedes from the room like the tide going out. Buck pulls away, inadvertently breaking his promise—Eddie misses him the second his touch disappears.
"Can I come over after shift?" Buck asks. The first time he's asked in what feels like months, since he packed up the last box and pulled out of Eddie's driveway with a wave, his stomach twisted in confusing knots on the porch.
"Yeah," Eddie answers. Buck smiles, limned in the warmth of the fading sunlight. "I'd love that."
Buck's head snapped up so fast he was worried about whiplash. Maybe he should get checked out just in case.
"What?" he sputtered out, flabbergasted and a little alarmed at the question.
Eddie was situated by the foot of the bed, hands on his hips and a sad pout pulling down the corners of his lips.
"Do you think I'm attractive?" Eddie enunciated again in the same forlorn tone.
Buck gaped at his best friend, who was now apparently impersonating a mad hatter, the book he was reading flopping down onto his lap, forgotten. What is the point of a book when his brain stopping processing anything a few moments ago?
Eddie huffed and turned away from him when Buck just stared in stunned silence. He stepped towards the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. And posed.
Eddie was posing.
Maybe Buck suffered a stroke because what else could explain Eddie turning this way and that in front of a mirror, hands casually in his pockets, shifting on his feet as he looked himself up and down in the mirror as if he was donning a date-night outfit and not just his frayed sweatpants and usual black tank top?
His voice seemed to return when Eddie started to inexplicably mess with his hair, like a teenager trying on a new hairstyle and choosing the most unflattering one possible.
"Uhh, E-Eddie? Wha-what are you doing?"
Eddie's reflection rolled his eyes at him. "Well, you weren't being very forthcoming, Buck, so I had to ponder the question for myself. Can't really do that without a mirror."
Yes, because how exactly was Buck meant to answer such an inane question as does he think Eddie is attractive?
Come to think of it, why was Eddie asking such an inane question in the first place?
"You... wanna tell me what brought this on?"
That gave Eddie pause, ceasing his movement in front of the mirror to turn back around. His shoulders deflated. "You're going to think I'm being very silly and conceited," he admitted meekly.
Buck sat up straight. He had never known Eddie could be meek. He had to get to the bottom of this. Right now.
"Eddie, you just walked in here while I was, peacefully mind you, reading a book and asked if I find you attractive. The silliness threshold has long been crossed."
Eddie pursed his lips, miffed that Buck was probing deeper behind his sudden uncharacteristic behavior.
"Do you remember yesterday's call?" he answered reluctantly after a moment.
Buck huffed incredulously, knowing that Eddie was being vague on purpose. "Gonna have to be more specific, Eds."
Eddie mumbled something that was too low for Buck to hear.
"Eddie, c'mon, out with it."
"The bar! The gay bar, alright?!" Eddie exclaimed, arms lifted exasperatedly.
Buck's eyebrows shot up. A bout of wild dancing had caused the counter at the bar to collapse underneath the weight of all the people. There were no life-threatening injuries but even Buck's EMT skills had to be called upon due to the sheer number of superficial injuries, overwhelming Hen, Chim and Eddie.
"Okaayyy? What about it?"
Eddie's eyes wandered, resolute in the way they refused to meet his gaze. "Did you notice how no one really... approached us?"
Buck couldn't be more confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean! I was walking all over the place, going person by person to make sure no one was going home unattended, and not a single person —"
Eddie cut himself off abruptly, his cheeks flushing an embarrassing red. He bit his lips, physically stopping the words from spilling out.
"Eddie."
"And not a single person hit on me," Eddie finished the thought, a tinge of petulance creeping into his voice.
Buck's jaw dropped. He almost didn't believe his ears. He probably wouldn't have believed his ears if Eddie didn't look appropriately abashed following his words.
"Wow, that really is conceited."
"Buck."
"Okay, okay, no — Eddie wait," Buck scrambled up from the bed, blocking Eddie's embarrassed retreat. "Just. Wait."
"What?" Eddie asked uncertainly, eyes flicking to the doorway, ready to bolt at any second.
"Just... I want to understand, okay?" Buck said placatingly. "Because I know you're not the insecure type, so this has to be about something else."
Eddie groaned, dropping himself onto the bed heavily, hiding his face in his palms. "Yeah."
"You gonna tell me what that is?"
"No."
"Eddie."
"Buck."
Buck scoffed, sitting down beside his friend. Eddie was his best friend for a reason. He could figure this out. He just needed some deductive reasoning.
"So, you're upset that a bunch of gay guys didn't ask you out?"
Arms folded to his chest, Eddie scrunched his face. "Upset is a strong word," he mumbled.
"I don't know!" Eddie lamented, falling back onto the bed. "Maybe I'm afraid I'm losing my touch."
Buck raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What touch?"
"Buck!"
"You know we were in the middle of a pretty terrible emergency, right?"
Eddie actually rolled his eyes at him. "Like that ever stopped anyone."
Can't really argue with that one.
"Eddie, you're straight."
A pause. Eddie was looking off to the side, biting his lip. He didn't really say anything at first, just lifting a shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "So?" he muttered.
That ticked Buck off. How could Eddie just shrug like his straightness isn't a factor at all.
"So maybe, they got tired of barking up the wrong tree," Buck replied, tetchy.
But Eddie didn't comment on his tone. Instead, he sat up, suddenly looking interested. "Is that it?"
"What?"
"Are my vibes too straight for them to approach me?"
Whilst Buck made some incomprehensible choking noises of protest, Eddie got up, shucking off his tank top and discarding it. The top landed on Buck's lap.
He resisted the urge to hug the soft cloth close to him in comfort during these trying times.
Eddie marched determined to his dresser and wretched open the door. His toned back muscles shifted underneath his skin as he riffled through his outfits.
Buck's teeth started to ache with the sudden urge to bite him.
"What are you doing now?"
Eddie's voice came out muffled as he spoke into the dresser. "There's this shirt I never wore. The buttons don't go all the way up, the collar's cut all fancy-like — I never knew where I could wear a deep neckline shirt like that."
"So, what? You going to parade around with your chest out, hoping men hit on you?"
Eddie ignored him, having found the shirt.
He pulled it on.
Buck looked away.
"What do you think?" Eddie called out earnestly, after painstakingly adjusting and readjusting the collar until it sat perfectly and really accentuated his firm chest underneath.
Buck felt despondent. He barely cast a glance towards his friend. "Yeah, gonna have all the attention you want now," he admitted miserably.
"Buck."
"What?"
"Look at me."
Buck didn't.
"C'mon, Buck, please. Just once."
"No."
"Buck."
He didn't understand why this was happening. "Why should I?!" he demanded, eyes firmly fixed to his lap.
Eddie groaned, exasperated at him. Like Buck was being dense on purpose. "You said it yourself, Buck, I'm not the insecure type. I don't care what anyone thinks."
Buck scoffed. "Could've fooled me."
"Jesus, Buck. You really think I'm posturing like this for random strangers at a bar?"
"So you are posturing for someone." Buck desperately wished his vindication brought him more satisfaction instead of drowning despair.
Silence.
Then...
"Yeah, Buck, I am."
Buck shook his head, shoving off from the bed. His book landed on the floor with a low thud. "Well, I hope —"
"You."
Buck's eyes finally flicked back to Eddie, his confusion taking over his senses, falling back to his base instinct of always having Eddie in his sights.
But he didn't expect what he saw.
Eddie seemed pained... because of Buck?
"What?" Buck asked dumbly.
"It's for you," Eddie whispered, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
"W-why? Ed-Eddie —"
Eddie cut him off, eyes wide with hurt and focused on him. "You stopped looking at me, Buck. You always used to look at me like I was the best part of your day, like there was nothing more you needed to cheer you up. And I loved it. I loved feeling your eyes on me knowing that I was helping you feel better."
It was a reflex. Buck had to step closer when Eddie sounded like that. Like he was struggling. Like he was suffering. "Eddie..."
Eddie averted his eyes when Buck came within arms reach, tucking his chin, shoulders hunching over. His voice lower still, barely audible over the small distance between them. "But you don't anymore. So, I thought..."
"Thought what?" Buck breathed.
"Thought that you didn't find me attractive enough to look at anymore. That I wasn't what you wanted. I've been trying to figure out what changed, all week. The gay bar was kind of the last straw."
Oh.
Buck's heart sank. He had no idea Eddie had been that troubled with something Buck hadn't even been conscious of most of the time.
But since Tommy and Maddie...
Eddie was right that something had changed. Just wrong about what.
"Eddie," Buck rasped, helpless to the truth. "Of course, I'm attracted to you. How could I not be?"
Buck realised his mistake when Eddie froze, startled eyes falling onto him, plush lips tipping up into a smile. Eddie looked hopeful.
Oh god. Saying someone was attractive and being attracted to them were two different things. What had Buck done?
Buck stumbled back, feeling punched in the stomach.
"It's not — I mean attraction is a complicated thing so, so — an-ny one would be attracted to you, that's like a- a fact, it's — it's not going to be any different with me —"
"You're really attracted to me?"
Eddie's quiet words cut through Buck's stammering. His eyes, beautiful in their earnestness, locked onto him, roaming all over as he searched for answers.
"E-Eddie."
"Buck." He traversed the distance between them in two quick steps, taking Buck's hands in his. Buck had to actively breathe against how Eddie's warm palms cradling his was making him feel. "Are you? Really?"
Buck felt breathless, trying to pull out of Eddie grip fruitlessly as Eddie refused to let go. In fact, Buck somehow had ended up closer. It sent his head spinning.
"Eds, don't make me, please," he begged his best friend.
Eddie just shook his head. "Why not?" he murmured.
"I don't want to ruin us."
"Who said anything about ruining?"
"Eddie."
Eddie tugged him closer still, until their noses nudged together and Buck couldn't focus on more than one part of Eddie's face. He tried to find his balance in the beauty mark just under his eye.
"Whatever happens next, Buck, it won't ruin us. I won't let it."
Warmth from hot breath sending chills down his spine. "You can't promise that," Buck whispered back, closing his eyes, resigned.
Resigned to what he knew was coming next.
Eddie was no longer whispering, but speaking directly onto his lips. "It's you. I can promise anything."
Buck's opened his lips into Eddie's, the kiss passionate and consuming as they fell headfirst. He didn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about the whine emanating from his throat, not when it made Eddie wrap his arms around his waist and pull him in tighter.
They kissed until Buck's predisposed breathless lungs caught up to him, their mouths separating to let Buck gasp against Eddie's neck. He was tingling and shivering all over, his mind dizzy with possibilities held in his arms.
Eddie remained a stoic presence as Buck calmed himself, running soothing palms across his back. Buck rather thought that the touch only served to delay him catching his breath.
"So," Buck said, licking away the slickness on his lips, "this isn't just vanity or stroking your ego?"
Eddie's chest jerked against his with an exhaled chuckle. "First of all, ouch." His hands stopped by the hem of Buck's shirt, fingertips sneaking under to touch bare skin. "Second, no, baby, it really isn't."
"So, what is this, then?"
Hands sliding to his hips, Eddie pulled back, meeting his gaze. "This is me not realizing what I had until it was gone." He cocked his head a little, a challenge in his eyes. "And wanting to claim it back."
Buck tipped his forehead into Eddie, his vision blurring together. "Don't regret this," he said, vehemence bleeding into his tone, "Don't you dare regret this."
Buck's been off for a while. It's understandable, she thinks, he's still grieving, still mourning Bobby. Howie tells her that he's not really present at work, either. That's when she starts to watch him a little closer.
He talks to the baby a lot. He can't say Bobby's name, but he talks. He talks so much that Maddie's pretty sure her son's first word is going to be "one-eighteen". She keeps watching.
Howie glows with praise for his team, talking about Eddie's daring rescue that saved the day, how Hen had been so effortlessly cool that it'd made him feel a little foolish in his Captain's hat. How Ravi had been solid, and Harry had fit right in. He doesn't mention Buck. When Maddie asks, Howie frowns.
"Buck's been Buck, you know how he is," Howie says.
Maddie doesn't like that. She starts digging.
"Buck's fine," Hen says, rolling her eyes. "He's still just hung up on Tommy, honestly, it's getting annoying. He's like a dog with a bone."
Maddie doesn't like that, either.
"I saw him a few days ago," Eddie says, shrugging. "He's fine, I guess. You'd know better than me."
"He's your best friend," Maddie says, frowning. Eddie just shrugs again.
"He hasn't acted like it, lately," Eddie says.
Maddie really doesn't like that.
Then Evan gets hurt.
Suddenly, his hospital room is overflowing with noise, with flowers and balloons, and everyone's there. Maddie watches, and she sees how Buck stares at them all, this team, this so-called 'family' surrounding him - crowding him. She's seen that look on his face before. She used to see it all the time, whenever Evan got hurt. Whenever Mom and Dad would rush over and comfort him, wipe away his tears, patch up his injuries and dote on him.
Maddie feels sick. She should've seen it sooner.
"Get out," she says, cutting through the celebration happening in the room. Buck looks at her, and he looks... grateful. Everyone else just looks confused.
"Come on, Mads," Howie says. "We're not just gonna leave. We're family."
"Oh sure, you're all acting just like family," Maddie says. "Just like my family. He doesn't need more of that."
"That's crazy," Eddie says.
"Yeah, come on, we love Buck," Hen adds.
"I'm sure you do," Maddie says. "But you only love him when he's hurt."
