Chapter Text
The first time Eddie hears what Buck sounds like, it’s in the goddamn firehouse of all places.
They’re on hour nineteen of a twenty-four-hour shift, and there's a lull in calls since it’s already past midnight. So, naturally, everyone claims a bunk and settles in to get whatever rest they can manage before another call comes in.
Usually Eddie would fall right to sleep in this situation, especially since they rarely get enough time to even consider actually getting some rest between calls, so this is an anomaly.
But Buck, despite being a bunk over and almost out of his eyesight completely, keeps tossing and turning restlessly, and it’s keeping Eddie awake, too.
It shouldn’t be keeping him awake, he knows; he’s definitely tired enough to sleep, and Buck’s far enough away from him that it shouldn’t be distracting. But it is. Mostly because Buck is normally the very first to fall asleep; in fact, everyone actually gets annoyed by how quickly Buck can fit a cat nap in anytime, anywhere.
Except for now, apparently, because his lack of snoring is another thing that’s keeping Eddie awake. Because if Buck isn’t sleeping even after the exhausting day they’ve had, something is clearly wrong. Something must be bothering him, and although Eddie is usually the first to know when Buck’s got something bugging him, he hasn’t brought anything up.
And that makes Eddie nervous.
(And maybe a little hurt, too, that something is keeping Buck from sleeping and he hadn’t even mentioned anything being wrong their entire shift.)
Eventually, Buck gets out of his bunk and quietly slips out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Eddie tries again to settle in and fall asleep despite his curiosity, but he keeps tossing and turning, and can't keep himself from wondering if Buck had been acting off today and he had somehow missed it.
Am I that bad of a friend that I didn’t even notice something was wrong? Eddie wonders, guilt twisting in his gut.
Before he even consciously realizes he’s doing it, Eddie’s quietly slipping out of the bunk room, following him.
He doesn’t even have to think to know that Buck is in the showers, because he always likes a long, hot one when he can’t sleep. So that’s where Eddie goes.
He mentally goes over a chronological list of everything that happened today, but can’t necessarily pinpoint any specific time where Buck was acting weird, or like something was wrong. So, that leaves something happening after they’d already settled back in, right? Eddie had seen him on his phone earlier and—maybe it’s Tommy? Maybe something happened between them over text and that’s what’s been keeping Buck up, unable to sleep.
Eddie was right, of course, he learns as he enters the bathroom: he hears a shower running as soon as he walks in and knows it’s Buck—sees his clean clothes set out for when he’s finished. So Eddie sleepily rubs at his eyes and decides to take a shower too, knowing they can talk about what’s bothering Buck over a mug of tea in the kitchen after they’ve gotten warm and relaxed from the shower.
Eddie yawns and stretches, then goes to gather some fresh clothes and towels from his locker. He comes back and sets them out, undresses, and then steps in the shower. Like usual.
What happens next, though, is the unusual part.
Eddie has his hand on the shower knob, about to turn it, when he hears… something. And that’s all he can label it as, really, is ‘something,’ because despite the person that’s making the sound being unmistakable, the lack of familiarity of that specific sound from said unmistakable person is what’s more alarming to Eddie than anything.
Because is Buck… whimpering?
It’s quiet, at first—almost imperceptible behind Buck’s running shower—so Eddie stays still, hand hovering over the shower handle, and waits to see if he can hear it again.
Just to make sure.
And he does hear it again—only a few seconds later. The noise is louder this time too, just slightly, but it’s there, and real, and he hadn’t imagined it.
Is he crying? Eddie thinks initially, his stomach dropping at the thought of Buck crying alone in the showers instead of talking to him, his best friend who’s right here, about something that’s clearly bothering him so badly.
Despite being decent friends with the guy at this point, Eddie suddenly wants to really hurt Tommy Kinard. Because it has to be about him, right? It’s the only thing that makes sense if it wasn’t about the job, or Maddie—and Eddie would have known if had been either of those things.
Which leaves Tommy.
And Eddie’s never heard this sound from Buck before—this specific type of hurt—and why the hell didn’t Buck tell him anything was wrong?
He can hardly even contemplate that idea for long before Buck is suddenly making a different sound for him to obsessively mull over. And this time, it’s much easier to tell that it’s not even a hurt or sad noise at all, like he’d previously thought.
Eddie’s pretty sure—no, he’s positive now, actually, after hearing it again—that what he’s hearing is not Buck crying at all: he’s moaning.
Eddie’s shoulders relax. Or stiffen. He isn’t sure which. He actually isn’t sure of much at all right now, except that Buck is fucking moaning.
It’s still muffled enough by the running water that Eddie tries to give him the benefit of the doubt, tries to actively convince himself that he isn’t hearing what he’s hearing. It’s too quiet to tell for sure, really, he tells himself—the sounds could be easily mistakable for anything.
Until… they aren’t.
It’s only within a minute of stepping into the shower that Eddie can fully hear the soft, pleading whimpers Buck lets out; can hear him lightly grunting soon after; can make out the very distinct sound of skin rapidly moving against skin.
Eddie feels like he has to be fucking delusional and hearing things, because there’s absolutely no way Buck is jerking off in the fire station right now, on duty, in the communal—albeit curtain-covered—showers. And if he’s not crazy, then it must be that he’s just plain wrong, then, because this has to be something else. Like something bad has happened, or he slipped and hurt himself, maybe—because that cannot possibly be what he’s doing in the stall three showers down from Eddie right now.
It just can’t be. There’s no way.
Except… it most definitely is what he’s doing, which Eddie easily confirms only seconds after refusing to believe it. He can clearly hear whimpers and grunts now, and he feels like he’s going fully insane, because is this just… a thing Buck does? Just… fucking relieves himself, here, at work? Sure, they have long, exhausting shifts, but the first thing on Eddie’s mind—and only thing, most of the time—is sleep. He’s never even considered jerking off in the shower while still on the goddamn clock.
And even if he had thought about it, that doesn’t mean he’d do it.
Who the hell gets themselves off at work, anyway? Sure, Buck didn’t think anyone else would be in here, and definitely didn’t hear Eddie come into the room over the water, but… this? Really?
Is it some sort of adrenaline buildup he has to release after a call? Or is he just doing it to do it? Eddie’s obviously heard about the ‘sex addiction’ Buck thought he had before Eddie joined the 118, but he’s put in work since then, grown. He can control it now, and knows better, too—knows he could get in trouble, get caught.
And yet…
…he moans. Again. And by the sounds of him—how comfortable he is being vocal right now—Eddie doubts it’s the first time he’s done this.
But then again, knowing Buck, he might just… be like that during sex. Loud and vocal, maybe—like he is outside of it.
Not that Eddie’s ever thought about it. Not until now, at least, when he has no choice but to think about it when Buck is making such obscene fucking noises.
Eddie can feel himself getting hard, despite his actual best effort to not process the sounds Buck’s making for what they are.
It doesn’t work.
And—okay. It’s not like he’s even turned on by the who’s or what’s of it all, obviously, but he’s realizing now that it’s been a while since he himself has even gotten off. Between the long shifts, the whole ‘not being able to have sex because she was a nun’ thing with Marisol, followed by the whole Kim situation and Christopher leaving, he just… hasn’t even thought about it. Not really.
So yeah, going a whole two (three now, maybe?) weeks without having any sort of sexual release isn’t helping his case right now.
Buck lets out a soft cry—it’s not loud, but definitely not quiet, either, if Eddie can hear it three stalls away—and Eddie suddenly, desperately wants to know what it is he’s thinking about. What’s got him so worked up that he apparently just fucking had to masturbate at his job like this, of all places? And whine and whimper so fucking pathetically while doing it, too?
It’s Tommy, Eddie thinks, swallowing back the guilt-ridden bitterness that's been brewing in the pits of his belly, but is now making its way to settle, possibly forever, on the tip of his tongue.
Of course it’s Tommy he’s thinking about—that’s his boyfriend. Of course it’s him.
Eddie suddenly wants to march over, shove back the curtain of his stall, and yell at Buck for being so fucking irresponsible. Why fucking why is he whining, pleading, whimpering like that? He clearly can’t shut up during sex either just like he can’t outside of sex, exactly like Eddie had figured earlier. He’s making all of these sounds that Eddie can’t stop hearing, and now all he can think about is sex and what Buck must look like right now: arm propped up against the shower wall, head bent down, other hand wrapped around himself, desperately tugging his—
Why the fuck is he thinking about what Buck looks like while jerking off?
Eddie recites an old Catholic prayer that’s been ingrained in him since childhood, and silently begs, begs, begs to whatever is hopefully up there listening to help him get the hell out of this situation.
He presses his forehead against the cool surface of the shower wall and squeezes his eyes shut. His heart is pounding, and he wishes he could turn the shower on to ice cold to rid himself of this situation, but he can’t. Because then Buck would hear it, and know he’s here, too.
He hears a sharp intake of breath followed by the lowest, most pleasure-filled groan he’s ever heard in his life.
And yeah, he’s really fucking hard now, despite trying to fill his mind with the worst things he can possibly imagine.
I have to get the hell out of here right fucking now, Eddie thinks, suddenly horrified by the thought of Buck finding him like this: in the shower that’s only three stalls away from him, naked and hard from overhearing his best friend getting himself off.
At work.
Eddie’s mind is still unfortunately flooded with thoughts of what Buck looks like while he’s coming instead of an idea on what he’s supposed to do right now to escape this situation.
He can’t wait it out in here until after Buck’s done—he’d instantly see Eddie’s fresh clothes laid out and know. So he has to get out now, before Buck ever even knows he was here.
From the sounds Buck’s making—the urgent whimpers and choked-out moans—he’s clearly getting… close. His moans are more frequent now, more erratic, and Eddie can picture him picking up the pace of his hand, tightening his grip, desperate for release…
Eddie bites down on his cheek so hard he can taste blood.
Focus.
Since he knows he doesn’t have much longer to think, he acts: he quietly, slower-than-slowly pulls the curtain of the shower back so it won’t make noise, and moves to step out. His leg is halfway out, his foot is almost on the mat, his—
Suddenly, Buck is making this deep, guttural, sob-like noise that sounds so fucking out of this world, that Eddie suddenly understands why he seems so desperate now: if Eddie had orgasms like that, he figures he would want to jerk off at work too.
Or—no, he would not want to do that, actually, because that is still an insane thing to do no matter how 'good' it would feel. It's wrong.
Irresponsible.
Stupid.
It's just that he's so disgustingly turned on right now that it’s fogging his whole goddamn brain, when he should be getting the hell out of here.
Shit.
He’s still hard—fully hard now, actually, so much so that it's almost painful—but he’ll think of that problem later, when he’s out of here and safe. Safe from the possibility of Buck seeing him, knowing he was here without saying or doing anything to stop him, silently letting him go on until he audibly came in the shower just three stalls down from him.
He’s also trying to save himself from seeing what Buck looks like post-orgasm. Hearing it was quite e-fucking-nough.
Eddie’s got his towel around his waist now, his bare feet on stable flooring, and his clothes in his arms. He’s walking quickly—not running—out of the bathroom, halfway to the door, almost there—
—And then the alarm goes off. It blares like always through the fire station, lights flashing red all over. The alarms are too loud for Eddie to hear the only shower left in the room being turned off, or hear the curtains being drawn back. But he knows those things are happening, and knows when he turns around, Buck will be standing there, knowing and—
“Eddie?” He can hear Buck breathe out heavily a bit farther behind, getting close. He's panting, actually, because of course he is. “Why-”
Eddie turns around, securely holding his clothes over his crotch so Buck can’t see the effect it clearly had on him to hear him like that.
Buck’s eyes frantically glance between a half-naked Eddie and the shower stall that has the curtain still pulled open, and Eddie can see him piecing it together quickly. That if Eddie is coming from the shower, then he must have heard—
Eddie has to ignore the impulse to just run away from the whole thing in fear and frustration—a few kinds of it.
Buck’s still in the process of fully realizing now that Eddie heard him getting himself off in the fucking firehouse. As soon as he does realize it though, his mouth drops in horror, and he's suddenly blushing the deepest shade of red Eddie’s ever seen on him.
Eddie almost smiles at the sight of it—a best friend’s instinct to tease, he thinks—but quickly gets pulled back to reality when he remembers the context of why he’s even blushing in the first place.
Buck stares.
Eddie’s just glad the suddenness of it all killed his boner.
“Oh, God. Eddie, oh God—if you heard anything, I am so—” Buck starts to explain, to say sorry a lot and beg for forgiveness and make everything more awkward instead of just forgetting about it, Eddie assumes, but he interrupts instead.
“Forget about it.” Eddie brushes him off nonchalantly, as if he wasn’t just fighting off a raging, painful boner two minutes ago.
Because of his best friend.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Eddie thinks, but only manages out: “We’ve got work to do.”
Buck nods and visibly gulps, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But he’s still very, very red all over—probably half from embarrassment, and half from the orgasm at work he just had.
Which is insane to even think about.
“Boys! Get dressed! Let’s go!” Bobby’s voice booms into the bathroom, echoing off the walls as he’s already stepped in and out to find the rest of the team.
Eddie and Buck look at each other, and Eddie wishes he didn’t know what Buck looks like right after he orgasms. His lips are parted, still trying to pull in labored breaths, trying to catch them up, and his chest is wet and heaving, muscles shiny and-
-Without saying a word, they both make their way to their lockers. They bump shoulders once, and Eddie feels like he might just fake an emergency of his own so he doesn’t have to deal with whatever the fuck this is for even a second longer.
“Duty calls, boys!” Chim laughs as they both silently get dressed next to one another, clearly in high spirits after getting a short nap in. Clearly oblivious to his surroundings, too.
“Duty calls.” They reply in unison, pulling on their gear.
They’re gonna have to talk about it, he knows—Buck will have to give his apology and explanation or he’ll burst—but this shift is still another five-and-a-half hours.
If Eddie knows how to do anything, though, it's to push away personal matters so he can get his job done.
Duty, in fact, calls.