Being with Buck is nothing like Eddie thought it would be.
To be fair, it’s not like he thought about it much at all. Sure, there was always something, tucked away in some back corner of his mind. Something he wasn’t ready to look at, that he could never quite name. Looking back, he’s pretty sure it’s called wanting.
But wanting something and taking it are two different things. Even if that something is right there, staring you down, begging you to close your fist around it and hold it. For years Eddie let it hang, untouched, between them. Tried to ignore it, pretended it was something else.
But he's tired. God, he’s so tired of pretending.
So he stops. And he takes.
Except here's the thing no one tells you about wanting: it doesn’t really stop once you have it. It grows. It expands and it stretches until it fills up every corner, until it’s all you can think about.
So now that he has Buck, that he can look, that he can touch…it’s like Eddie can’t help himself. His hands are always searching—fingers finding Buck’s wrist, wrapping gently around it. Knuckles brushing over the back of his hand just so he can feel the warmth of his skin. A palm resting heavy on Buck’s thigh, slowly sliding higher until Buck’s cheeks turn pink. His foot tangling with Buck’s under the table, his fingers grazing the curve of Buck’s neck when no one is watching.
It happens everywhere—at the grocery store, at work, in the quiet between calls, in the crowded noise of everyday life. Whenever there’s a chance, Eddie takes, and takes, and takes.
And it’s not selfish, because Buck craves it just as much. And it’s not a life that belongs to someone else, because it’s Eddie’s. Because Eddie made a choice. He picked joy.
And he would pick it a thousand times over.
Because now, at the end of another long shift, as they head towards their jeep, their home, their kid, their life, Eddie gets to drop his bag to the ground and shove Buck against the nearest engine. He gets to press their lips together, sneak a hand under the hem of Buck’s t-shirt.
They kiss, and kiss, and kiss, until Eddie’s lungs burn, and then they kiss some more because Eddie is greedy, he’s starving, and he’s so ridiculously, all-consumingly in love. All he wants is to drink Buck in, to steal every tiny little gasp he makes and keep it for himself. Forever.
His fingers tighten on Buck’s skin, holding on, mostly to stop himself from going further (not that he doesn’t want to, but palming Buck through his jeans in the middle of the day, on work property, is a little much even for him.) Buck makes another small sound, and Eddie can’t help but smile into his mouth.
When he pulls back Buck blinks at him, hazed and glassy eyed, and so beautiful.
“What was that for?” he asks, breathless.
Eddie shrugs. “Just wanted to.”
inspired by this alli post :) @bucksbeagle
