Hey Jealousy
five times eddie's a little shit to buck and one time tommy is.
(no character bashing, all in good fun - this comes from a book i was reading where the mc's besties did this type of shit to get on his nerves and i thought it would be funny with these 3 - buck&eddie and buck/tommy, 5+1)
[wc: 4,035 - ao3 is down? have a snack. i'll put it there when she wants to host me again]
Buck doesn’t consider himself ‘the jealous type.’
Okay, well.
He didn’t.
Not until Tommy, that is.
The day he realized he was bisexual – the same day Tommy kissed him – put a lot of things into perspective, the least of which was the deeply inconvenient truth that Buck is, in fact, very much the jealous type. Not subtly. Not gracefully. Loudly, as a matter of fact.
He tries to keep a lid on it – keep the rampaging little monster that lives in his chest and dances dangerously close to lust contained – but fails nearly every time. The creature bangs and rattles against his ribs the moment it senses a threat.
And his supposed best friend – otherwise known as professional shit-starter and all-time MVP presser of Buck’s buttons – knows exactly how to coax it out.
The first time gets a pass.
Eddie didn’t know Buck was attracted to Tommy – hell, Buck didn’t even know – so the not-broken ankle incident was a one-off. Call it a fluke. But Eddie connects the dots pretty quick and latches onto that very tempting lever with both hands. Pulls and triggers it any time he damn well pleases.
They’re out at Genna’s – a local dive with a decently dangerous happy hour – one Friday after shift. By the fourth drink and second shot, Buck is pleasantly buzzed, Tommy is glowing and smiling more than usual, and Eddie is insufferable.
It’s probably best to call it a night before they gamble with one too many drinks to be decent. Eddie’s house is close to Tommy’s, so Buck, Tommy, and Eddie pile into the back of an Uber and make for home.
Tommy ends up wedged between them, thighs pressed against theirs in a sandwich of man meat, and Buck is just tipsy enough that it barely registers as anything more than warm and familiar. Eddie groans in dramatic frustration, slinging his arm along the back of the seat, making room for them to squeeze together.
Buck’s chest is warm with booze and banter, and the night’s been good in that way that makes him want to lean into it and stay there. Tommy settles into his side without thought.
He barely notices anything’s changed at first. Then Tommy exhales. It’s soft, lips parting just barely, and Buck feels the shift. Tommy’s cheeks warm, color growing up his neck. Buck stiffens instinctively, eyes dropping immediately. Did he move? Did his knee drift? Did his hand wander without his permission?
He scans quickly as his heart kicks up, but nothing’s out of place. No accidental brushing, his hands are firmly in his own lap, knee tucked against the empty front seat.
So Buck looks up. And there it is.
Eddie’s sporting a shit-eating grin. Buck follows the line of Eddie’s arm, over his shoulder, down along his bicep, and finally to his hand. Eddie’s fingers are fiddling with the short hairs at the back of Tommy’s neck, palm pressing against his spine where it meets his shoulders. It’s casual, the way he’s trailing fingertips along Tommy’s skin.
Buck’s jaw tightens, “Hey!” He slaps Eddie’s hand away, brow furrowing. “Hands off.”
Eddie lifts both hands in surrender, all mock innocence, lips twitching to hold back a laugh. Tommy chuckles, unfazed, and reaches for Buck’s thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Babe,” Tommy murmurs, amused. “There isn’t any room to fight in here.”
So Buck forces himself to let it go, even as Eddie smiles and shakes his head, winking at Buck with smug satisfaction. Buck stares at him for a long beat, then looks away, filing it away.
He’s quick to forgive but not one to forget. If there’s a list of irritating odd jobs when they’re next on-shift, Buck won’t bat an eye if Eddie somehow, amazingly, ends up doing them all.
*
Still, it’s forgotten long before it can really take root in Buck’s chest, light-hearted ribbing as routine as morning coffee when it comes to his friendship with Eddie.
A few weeks later, Buck’s headed to pick up Tommy from Eddie’s house. They’ve been up to the usual – cars, muay thai, and basketball talk. Stuff that doesn’t hold Buck’s interest for long. They’d gotten together while he babysat for the Hans and, despite being exhausted from the day’s baking and fingerpainting, Buck’s excited.
He hasn’t seen Tommy in a few days – his shift butting up against Buck’s and without enough time between to even share a passing kiss. The rampant butterflies that flutter in his chest have never settled down – not after they first started dating and even less so now, and they’re already kicking up at the mere thought of seeing Tommy.
When he pulls into the driveway, he can see them bent over Eddie’s truck, laughing as Eddie leans back in with a rag. He waves when he hops out of the car, lingering on the way Tommy’s curls sit just right, damp in the afternoon sun.
He looks clean – fresh – like he’s just hopped out of the shower and Buck bites back the annoyance he didn’t share steam with him. But it’s not until he turns around, reaching for a wrench that Buck feels that sharp, familiar sting of jealousy.
Printed across the back of his shirt is “Diaz,” stitched in worn lettering, the material soft after years of use.
“Hey Buck,” Eddie says, emphasizing the k decidedly deliberate, where he looks up from the engine.
Eddie’s face is looking more and more punchable these days, Buck thinks behind clenched teeth.
Tommy smiles, charming as ever, and Buck nearly forgets about his idiotic best friend.
Nearly.
Tommy wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him in for a kiss. Internally screaming, Buck wants to be as far from that damn shirt as possible, but he bites his tongue.
“You look so fresh and clean,” he says instead. “I-I thought you guys were sparring.”
“We did,” Tommy shrugs. “I was pretty gross – Eddie let me shower and gave me a shirt, so you didn’t have to deal with that.”
Buck eyes Eddie, nodding slowly. “I wouldn’t have minded,” he says with another kiss to Tommy’s lips, instantly cooling the jealousy stirring, the one that’s been rattling the cage of his ribs again.
Eddie, digging into the very bruise he built, leans around Tommy and drops the wrench on the bench behind him. “Oh trust me, you would’ve.”
Tommy rolls his eyes and points behind him, “He would know – being up close and personal when I kicked his ass.”
Buck puffs up his chest, proud, while Eddie laughs, full-throated and teasing, hand landing on Tommy’s shoulder with a squeeze.
Buck does everything in his power not to lean in and bite Eddie’s hand like a poorly trained rottweiler.
By the time they get to Tommy’s, Buck’s too distracted peeling the shirt off Tommy and paving a stretch of kisses down his boyfriend’s naked torso to care about where it lands. If it’s in the trash, Buck certainly won’t be the one to go digging around to fish it out.
*
Karaoke night is Eddie’s idea.
Buck is way too sober for the mess going on at the bar. His sister and brother-in-law are on the tiny stage belting a slightly off-key rendition of Love Shack, leaning against one another like they’d topple over otherwise.
Barely one drink in, Buck is curled in a booth beside Tommy when Eddie saunters over with another round.
“How’d we even get sucked into this?” Buck grumbles. He reaches gratefully for the beer, downing a third before the glass hits the table. May jabs him – elbow to the ribs – when Ravi sets her drink in front of her.
“They’re adorable,” she says, head tilting at the stage. Ravi’s only got eyes for her, though, and nods, eyes shimmering under the neon lights.
“You guys next?” Tommy asks May, nodding at the couple.
May shakes her head forcefully and laughs. “God no. I can’t sing to save my life.”
“The shower disagrees,” Ravi says, nose wrinkling when he smiles. “Your rendition of I Will Always Love You sounded beautiful this morning, baby.”
“That would be a lot sweeter if Biscuit didn’t run away screaming when he heard it,” May says about Ravi’s cat, taking another sip. When the glass lowers, there’s foam across her lip that Ravi sweetly wipes away with his thumb.
Tommy turns to Eddie with a grin, “What about you?”
Eddie pauses mid-sip and points at himself.
“Me?”
“Yeah,” Tommy laughs. “You gonna sing? Evan told me after I left Howie’s bachelor party you two really nailed That’s What I Like About You.”
There’s a sputtering laugh that spills from Eddie and Buck can’t help but join in, the memory a blurry polaroid trapped behind bottle service and the excitement of his sister getting married.
“Nah, man” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t think I wanna spoil the ambiance.”
“The ambiance?” Buck teases and downs his drink. He shoos Eddie and Tommy out of the booth to let him free. “Gonna hit the head.”
The second beer’s already warming Buck’s bloodstream, rising under his skin as he heads back to the table. There’s a low rumble and smattering of applause when he reaches the bar, intent on keeping the buzz going.
It takes a second, but quickly becomes clear – he knows that voice. The one echoing through the speaker. Eddie’s pitchy melody leans into the bridge of Friends in Low Places somewhere between barely recognizable and close-to-in-tune.
Buck spins around and tilts his hip against the bar, watching. Eddie’s taking full advantage of the small space, microphone dramatically in hand like he’s Garth Brooks himself. Pointing at the crowd, he encourages everyone to join in.
Loose-lipped and liquored up, the crowd doesn’t hesitate, and it doesn’t take long for slurred voices to attempt to harmonize. There’s someone standing near the stage, cheering Eddie on, and Buck’s less shocked, more adoring when he sees it’s his boyfriend.
Eddie reaches out and Tommy hops on stage, grabbing the second microphone effortlessly. It doesn’t take long for Eddie’s arm to fall – again – around Tommy and tug him close.
Buck narrows his eyes mid-lyric and feels it.
That familiar stab of jealousy, teeth digging in at his neck and clamping down when Eddie spins Tommy out and Tommy practically swoons, letting Eddie dip him in a playful dance.
Buck reminds himself it’s just karaoke, just for fun – to calm the hell down before he makes an idiot of himself – but it doesn’t last.
Eddie doubles down, pulling Tommy to smack his lips across his cheek and Buck’s had enough. He turns back to the bartender, orders two shots and downs them along with half of his next beer before going to the stage.
He claps at the end of the song, plastering on a smile for Tommy, but when he turns to bow to the rambunctious crowd, Buck glares at Eddie behind him. Eddie laughs and blows Buck a kiss and Buck heads up for his own performance.
The crowd whistles.
Buck’s ears burn.
Before He Cheats may or may not have been a choice made in the heat of the moment.
Either way, Buck’s pretty sure he gets his point across.
*
Buck’s not usually the one with the sweet tooth – between him and Tommy, it’s not even a contest. Tommy indulges any time he’s presented with the opportunity, so when Eddie asks if they want to join him and Chris for some ice cream after pick-up basketball one day, Tommy doesn’t even blink.
Buck doesn’t mind, rolling his eyes fondly as he waves to Eddie, “We’ll meet you there.”
When he slides in it’s warm, sunlight lingering, seat kissed in heat as the air conditioner hums from the vents. Tommy’s already grinning, giddy after a the win – thanks, in part, to a few 3-pointers of his – and the promise of a sweet snack.
Buck loves seeing him this way, childlike and earnest, eyes shimmering and wrinkling at the edges as his smile widens.
When they walk inside the shop, Chris and Eddie are already at a table near the entrance, pointing at the menu and debating flavors. Chris waves when they join, torn between something chocolatey and something fruity. Tommy suggests chocolate strawberry to split the difference and the pair high-fives.
Buck hems and haws, torn on what to pick four samples deep – no closer to making a decision – when the Diaz boys pick up their order.
Tommy murmurs in Buck’s ear what he wants – tiramisu – before he heads back to wait at the table after somehow slipping a twenty into Buck’s palm. It’s only another two minutes (okay, maybe six) before he makes up his mind and orders, already remorseful when he spots a woman snagging a scoop of lemon tart.
When he finally gets the goods, he turns around and sees it.
Eddie leaning in and brushing his thumb against the corner of Tommy’s lip. It lingers where melted ice cream started to drip down his heated skin. His other hand holds an empty spoon, one with traces of his vanilla bean – boring – still melted along the edge. When Buck looks at Eddie, he grins and winks, the absolute freak. Tommy doesn’t even notice when he greets Buck with a grin.
Tommy licks his lips and Buck wants nothing more than to pull out a napkin and remove the traces of Eddie that must be sitting there.
It’s innocent. Nothing more than a taste. Something any of Buck’s friends would do and have done for him many times before.
But Eddie is King Supreme at getting under Buck’s skin. All teasing, all in good fun, but the way he knows just how to push Buck’s buttons without pushing past the limit is something only family understands. Years of prodding one another despite the terrible things they’ve seen tends to do that. A deep connection – one that can be used both for good…
And for evil.
And if Eddie wants to tempt fate, Buck can only bite his tongue until the day that happens. He’ll be waiting with bells on.
For now, he leans in to press a kiss to Tommy’s lips and gives him his double scoop, erasing any remnants of Eddie’s touch in his wake.
*
Ever since Buck and Eddie went to Nashville and met up with the 113, they’d talked about going back. The city had an energy, one that was joyful and carefree, but Buck couldn’t stop thinking about how much better it would be with Tommy there, too.
So when the idea came up again – half-joking, half-serious – they caved easily. They pulled a few of the 118 together and decided to head to Nashville for a long weekend, and everything was perfect.
At first.
Buck loved the kid stuff they hit up during the day. The museum. The parks. Jee toddling along like she owned the sidewalks. Nash perched on Chim’s shoulders, sticky fingers tangled in his hair.
Eddie and Chris immediately found their way to a BBQ joint, determined. They had strict criteria of the merits of a dry rub versus a marinade. Chris with plans of a TikTok taste test, and Eddie excited just to be invited.
Tommy and Maddie meandered at the back of the pack the whole day. Always the ones with the water bottles, wet wipes, extra sunscreen. Tommy carried souvenirs without complaint, took empty cups when hands filled up, matched the easy pace like they’d been doing this forever.
Buck felt like they had.
They all collect again at dinner and soon enough, dinner bleed into drinks, the kids wilting fast. Maddie volunteers to stay behind at the hotel with them, waving off protests.
“I’ll be in that gigantic human soup dish they call a bathtub,” she says cheerfully, “with a book, my pajamas, and zero regrets.”
She presses a kiss to Chim’s temple, wrangles Jee into thanking the server, and lets Chris herd Nash toward the door.
“We won’t be too late,” Chim promises.
Famous last words.
Drinks turn into shots and before they know it, the guys are at a bar on Broadway, Chim leaning into Tommy and shouting something about the importance of country music to romance. Tommy’s laughing, head tilting toward him and nodding as he listens intently.
Buck and Eddie peel off to grab another round, weaving through the crowd. There’s a line, so Buck hands Eddie some cash and ducks toward the bathroom.
When he comes back out, the line’s thinned out and Eddie’s nowhere to be found.
Buck scans the room, frowning, until the voice over the loudspeaker cut through the noise. The rumbling twang of the big bearded guy at the helm of the mechanical bull calls for the next challenger.
“Alright, y’all, let’s hear it for Mr. Tommy Kinard,” he yells, and Buck’s grin stretches a mile wide.
He turns just in time to see Tommy wave at the crowd as he’s ushered toward the thing. Tipsy co-eds circle around the edge of the landing zone like he’s competing for gold. Maybe to them, he is.
Eddie raises his beer at Buck from the sidelines, already settled, already smug.
Buck shoves his way over, heart pounding. Eddie fucking Diaz is set on writing his own death certificate, hooting for Tommy, that stupid wink finding Buck again.
When Tommy passes by, Eddie slaps his ass with force, a whistle leaving his lips as soon as he makes contact. Tommy just laughs, arms lifting over his head as he climbs into the ring.
Buck’s jaw locks. He squeezes beside Eddie and elbows him sharply in the ribs. Eddie wheezes, laughing with an exaggerated groan.
“I got it, I got it,” he chuckles, squeezing Buck’s shoulder. Tommy’s settling into place as the music amps up and the bull starts to shift. “Don’t worry, Buck. He’s all yours.”
The bull lurches and the crowd screams.
Tommy whoops, gripping tight, hair already wild, joy etched into every line of him. And when he looks up, eyes finding Buck in the crowd, he knows Eddie’s right.
He’s all Buck’s.
*
Not long after they return from Nashville (and recover from the brink of death Buck is certain he finds the morning after the mechanical bull), Buck’s pulling a pan of Bobby’s famous mac and cheese out of the firehouse oven when he hears a familiar voice. The oven door thumps shut.
“Hey Howie,” Tommy says, his low rumble carrying up easily from the apparatus floor. Buck can’t help the way his heart kicks hard like it’s been waiting for the sound.
“Tommy!” Chim greets cheerfully. Buck hears the slap of a high five, the shuffle of boots, the unmistakable sound of a hug. There’s something else, though, crinkling and paper when they pull apart. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Bring those by for someone?”
He abandons the mac and cheese without a second thought and moves to the railing, peering down into the engine bay.
Tommy’s standing there, jacket slung over one arm.
In the other there’s a bouquet. It’s massive – bright blooms tucked between vivid green, wrapped in brown paper and tied together with a thick blue ribbon. Buck feels heat rise to the apples of his cheeks.
Tommy’s always been a romantic, sure, but this isn’t something he does often. Buck can count on two hands the number of times he’s stopped by the 118, and on one how often it wasn’t for something Buck forgot at home.
Only Tommy doesn’t look up or scan the loft. He doesn’t even ask Chim where Buck is.
Instead, he asks, like this isn’t about the ruin Buck’s entire day, “Eddie around?”
Eddie? Buck’s fingers curl hard into the railing. Why the hell would Tommy have flowers for Eddie?
Chim points at the locker room and Tommy nods, heading that way without hesitation. Buck’s not far behind, but he’s not fast enough. By the time he reaches the stairs, Tommy’s already stepping inside.
Eddie’s sitting on the bench, hair damp, t-shirt clinging to his shoulders, fingers fussing with his watch strap. He looks up and his face breaks into a smile, but Buck can’t hear what they say through the glass.
It seems like the world is moving in slow motion when Tommy lifts the bouquet and steps forward, handing them over. Eddie’s smile widens when he reaches out.
They hug. Their arms are wrapped around each other, and Buck feels like he’s watching a movie he has no interest in. Why the hell did Tommy stop by the 118 to bring Eddie flowers?
With Eddie, he’s come to expect it. That stupid grin and smug wink as his hand finds Tommy’s skin, eyes locked on one another as Eddie playfully pushes Buck’s buttons. Knowing exactly when to push and when to stop, exactly how to get a rise out of his best friend.
But Tommy – he doesn’t do that…not usually. He’ll tease Buck, but it’s always with an adorable fondness in his eyes and a teasing lilt to his smile. Right now, though…right now Buck can’t see his face. His back is turned.
Buck’s through the door before he can stop himself, and he starts in when Tommy finally turns around. “What the hell, Tommy?”
“Evan,” Tommy smiles, moving in for a kiss. Buck steps back, crossing his arms. Tommy stops short, confused. “What’s wrong?”
“Why are you giving Eddie flowers?”
Tommy blinks and looks back at Eddie, then again at Buck. “It’s Father’s Day.”
Buck narrows his eyes. “It’s May.”
“Surprise Father’s Day gift,” Tommy says, like that’s a completely normal thing to say and think.
“What about Chimney?” Buck gestures wildly. “He’s a father.”
“Evan,” Tommy murmurs, glancing at between them. “He has Maddie. Don’t be mean.”
Buck huffs, heat climbing fast and stupid. He hates that Eddie has the bouquet. Hates the way Eddie’s already buried his nose in it like the smug bastard he is.
This is irrational. He shouldn’t be this mad. He knows he shouldn’t. His boyfriend is doing something kind for his best friend. That shouldn’t make him so jealous, and yet–
“I can’t do this, Eddie,” Tommy says suddenly.
Buck blinks, taken aback.
He reaches out, plucks the bouquet right out of Eddie’s hands and turns fully toward Buck. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“You’re weak,” Eddie groans, throwing up his hands. “One puppy-dog look and you fold?”
“Look at him,” Tommy says, nodding toward Buck.
Buck frowns. “What about me?”
Tommy reaches for Buck’s hand.
“Evan,” Tommy says, reaching out for Buck’s hand. He hesitates but not for long, reaching back and interlacing their fingers, squeezing gently. “We were teasing. These are for you, not for Eddie.”
Buck immediately exhales, relief running through him despite the embarrassment. Tommy looks so remorseful it almost hurts, eyes pleading for forgiveness as he offers the flowers.
“W-what…they are?” Buck asks stupidly, cheeks heating. He’s weak for those steel blue eyes, and as soon as their gazes find one another, all’s forgiven.
For Tommy, at least.
“They’re beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. Tommy pulls back as soon as he pulls away and he’s helpless to resist. “Thank you.”
“Forgive me?” Tommy asks quietly.
“Done,” Buck hums before turning and narrowing his eyes at Eddie. “You, on the other hand–”
Eddie gasps theatrically, clutches his chest. He puts a finger up, leaning and pulling a finger to his ear. “You hear that?” He cups his hands around his mouth, shouting “Coming, Cap!”
He bolts, laughing, already halfway up the stairs and Buck makes a mental note to stick him with dish duty later.
Tommy wraps his arms around Buck’s waist, pulling him close. “You know you don’t have to be jealous.”
Buck sighs, leaning into Tommy. “I know. I just…I can’t help it.”
Tommy chuckles softly. “I think I figured that out the first time I kissed you.”
“Oh, you like it,” Buck laughs despite himself. “Should’ve known.”
“What can I say?” Tommy shrugs, “Seeing you all hot and bothered gets me going.”
Buck laughs, shaking his head. “Come on. I’ll put these in water. You can stay for mac and cheese.”
“My favorite,” Tommy hums and kisses him again, lingering.
Only his, always.
