I wish you would write a fic where they high five after sex, lol <3
hiiii, have some tooth-rotting post-smut fluff from these two goofballs. :DD
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In the aftermath, Eddie flops back against the pillow, breathing hard, as Buck tucks his face into his throat: laughing, breathless, giddy. Their bodies are stuck together with sweat, and his heart is still thundering. He finds it hard to put the sensations together, parse them as something real—Buck, warm and laughing and naked against him, the ache and strain of his body, his heart going fast, sweat slicking his skin. Beard burn on his thighs and chest and throat, Buck's cock softening in slow pulses between them—it's not just sweat sticking them together.
"Holy shit," Buck breathes into his jaw. Eddie scruffs a hand through his sweaty hair, laughing breathlessly. "That was good, right? I thought it was good."
"Are you asking for constructive criticism here?" Eddie asks, but he's too out of breath to make it properly sarcastic. Buck bites him, then soothes the sting with his tongue, and Eddie's dick makes a valiant effort at reviving.
"I think I have a clipboard lying around here somewhere," Buck says, then starts laughing again. Eddie gets his fingers through Buck's hair and uses a light grip to tug him up into a messy, misaimed kiss. They're both smiling too much to make it work.
"Oh yeah? You got feedback forms? Maybe a spreadsheet?"
"Please rate your driver five stars on the app," Buck says, still snickering.
Eddie rolls his eyes and kisses him again. "You think you're cute, huh?"
"I know I'm cute," Buck says cheerfully.
"Modest, too."
"One of my best qualities, I'm told."
"One of them, sure," Eddie says, and gropes him, fingers digging into the meat of his ass and upper thighs, smearing lube. Buck shudders against him like they didn't both just come their brains out five minutes ago. "How soon before you can go again, do you think?"
"Should have known you'd be insatiable," Buck groans, laughing.
"Just a question, bud."
"I'm thirty-four, you're gonna have to give me a minute."
"Hmm," Eddie says, with another squeeze to the back of Buck's thigh. "Too bad, I was gonna rate you five stars, but—"
"Oh, please, act like that wasn't the ride of your life."
"Pretty sure you were the one doing the riding there."
Buck cracks up again, legs squeezing around Eddie's hips, then sits back on his heels, sweaty and gleaming, beautifully naked, straddling Eddie's thighs. He holds a hand up, palm out. Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, and he says, "High five."
"What?" Eddie laughs.
"C'mon, gimme five. Good game, all that stuff—"
"You're insane," Eddie says, laughing harder, but he slaps his palm to Buck's, then curls his fingers around his hand, pulling and twisting to flip them over so that he's on top, settled neatly between Buck's open legs. Buck's head thumps back against the pillow, and he beams up at Eddie.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," Eddie replies, and he can hear it just in that one syllable—the helpless fondness, the affection that feels too huge to contain. Buck's smile softens, becomes knowing, so sweet that Eddie has to lean down and kiss him, again and again.
"You need to start talking to each other at events. Award shows, galas, charity auctions, whatever. You need to engage in casual conversation with each other like you would any other player.”
It doesn’t sound bad on the surface; most of those nights are so boring the thought of Ilya next to him immediately makes it seems more bearable.
It’s just- well, they’ve spent close to a decade trying to avoid talking to each other at these things. It's not exactly easy to unlearn that paranoia.
“So we do not have to text across the room anymore?” Ilya asks eagerly. “I can just talk to Shane all night?”
He sounds so hopeful Shane feels himself melt. He never thought feeling lovesick was a real thing before but he’s ninety-five percent sure it's a real disease and he has it.
“Well, not all night,” his mom says, amusement clear in her voice in a way that makes Shane’s cheeks heat. “But for a while, sure. Even better if the two of you can have a conversation with a couple of other players or some coaches involved too.”
Ilya’s face falls and he looks decidedly less interested.
I'd like to know more about the enduring and coping and hurting and hoping please!
thank you!!! enduring and coping and hurting and hoping is the planned third & final installment of my next to normal series. since the first one was my big buck character study piece and my second one was a buddie/eddie dynamic study piece, this one is planned to be a buckley-diaz story with buck, eddie, and chris all having their own little storylines! here's a bit from eddie's pov, from a chapter tentatively titled sing of not remembering when:
“Honestly, it’s easy to be a good listener, with him,” he says, not bothering to hide the love in his voice. “How can anyone not want to hear his voice all the time?”
He catches Nash’s hand and blows a raspberry into his palm, surprising a little hiccup out of the infant. “‘Sides, Maddie and Chim should be thanking him. Your vocabulary’s gonna be incredible once you start talking.”
Nash babbles out a string of syllables in agreement, and Eddie grins at him. They peer into each other’s eyes for a few moments, Nash big and inquisitive and Eddie’s assessing.
“I won’t ask you to spill Buck’s secrets,” he tells him. “But in exchange, you have to keep one for me as well.”
Nash claps his hands together in front of Eddie’s nose. Eddie nods solemnly.
“Okay,” he says, and holds Nash close again, whispers in his little ear. “When your uncle Buck comes back from Minnesota, I’m gonna ask him to marry me.”
Currently reading: I am very much wallowing in comfort re-reads because I am straight-up not having a good time right now, but new-to-me stuff that I have on the go includes Black Ghosts by Noo Saro-Wiwa, which is part travelogue and part examination of African immigration to China. Very interesting, if a bit repetitive.
Last film: I genuinely don't remember the last film I watched. It's been over a year.
Last show: Heated Rivalry. The vertigo that will not end means I've been pretty much unable to watch TV for almost a year at this point, but gifs weren't cutting it. I do still have to avert my eyes for most of the hockey scenes, though, and the club scene is fucking torture. Anyway. Love that show a completely normal amount.
Sweet or salty: I have a killer sweet tooth, but can anything beat a savoury snacky-snack? No.
Coffee or tea: I love both, but tea always and forever.
Working on: Trying to get back to work. I've been off sick since April and I am not coping well. Left the house today. It didn't go well. Have been in bed since 13:00.
Last song: Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics. Because of that Heated Rivalry vid. I needed the whole song in my ears immediately.
No pressure tagging: @mmleadinglady @somethingaboutsewing @crackers4jenn @river-gale @evenaturtleduck @bluejay-07 @blue-glasses-dork
7. "Are you trying to tell me something?" or 15. "I do not have an answer for you." for buddie, if it sparks anything 💕✌
15. "I do not have an answer for you."
"I always knew that the two of you would be the worst if you ever got together," Chim says, and Eddie judges by his shit eating grin and the way he's snapping his gum that neither of their injuries are serious.
"Don't be mean to me, I have a concussion," Buck complains, still sitting on the floor with the blanket wrapped around him -- Eddie had claimed the sheet -- while Hen shines a light in his eyes and keeps her mouth tightly closed to stifle giggles.
"Nah, you don't," Hen says. "You need a couple stitches, but I think you're safe on the concussion front."
"You, on the other hand, sprained your wrist," Chim tells Eddie, wrapping the offending limb. "Any idea how?"
"Tried to catch myself," Eddie says. "Did it wrong."
"Well, you both clearly did many things wrong to lead to this situation," Hen says, placing gauze over the cut on Buck's face, just in front of his ear. The corner of the nightstand had been sharper than it looked.
"Clearly," Chim agrees. He steps away from Eddie to prod at the pieces of the bed frame scattered around the room. "Okay, but this isn't even broken, this is like...shattered. How the fuck--"
"I do not have an answer for you," Eddie says and resists the urge to bury his face in his hands, if only because one of them is sprained and it would hurt. He can't decide whether it's better or worse that the RA unit dispatched to come check on them is Hen and Chim, who know them, or if it would've been better to have complete strangers walk into the mess of their bedroom.
"Probably missed a bolt or something during assembly," Hen suggests. It is a new bed and she's probably right, Eddie decides. They hadn't been firing on all cylinders during assembly, after all. "When we first bought our house--"
She cuts herself off then, lips pressed firmly back together, while Eddie, Chim, and Buck all stare at her.
"When you and Karen first bought your house...?" Chim prompts. "How have I never heard this story?"
"You're not going to!" Hen says, too bright and too fast. Buck gapes at her with impish delight. "Karen would kill me. Okay, boys, let's get you transported so Buck can get those stitches."
Chim claps Eddie on the unbruised shoulder and adds, "You might want to put on underwear first."
Just wanted to say thank you for your efforts here. I check this blog at least once a day. It's so awesome of you to do all this work and that you really strive for accuracy and everything, so the fandom has a trustworthy place to get all this information. 💖
