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Eddie walked into the station, glancing around at the gleaming engines, the high ceiling, the hustle and bustle of shift change. It was his first day at the 118, and he feared his nerves would show through the veneer of confidence he projected.
Captain Nash showed him around, handed him a uniform, and told him to change.
“The walls are glass,” Eddie pointed out, frowning at them.
Nash shrugged. “Yeah, you get used to it. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the guys once you’re ready, okay?”
Eddie squared his shoulders, took the uniform, and went to change. He’d just pulled the shirt over his head when he felt eyes on him and he turned to see a small group had gathered. Captain Nash, along with a woman and a man he’d yet to meet, but he barely even focused on them. Because right there, staring at him, jaw slack and eyebrows furrowed, was Buck.
Buck.
Eddie was frozen as the captain introduced him to Hen Wilson and Howie—Chimney—Han.
“And this lunkhead here is Buck,” Chimney took over the introduction. “Don’t worry, he’s not as dumb as he looks.”
Buck was standing there, stock still, staring at Eddie with wide eyes.
Eddie’s heart raced as he held his hand out to shake his, just as he had Hen and Chimney. Seeing Buck here threw off what little ease he’d managed to settle into, and he found himself posturing, acting more confident than he felt.
Buck hesitated before taking his hand, and Eddie tried to get a read on him. It felt… wrong seeing him here.
It was strange to see him anywhere, really, outside of the studio where Eddie had been so at home for the past few weeks.
He had been nervous as he approached the doors to the studio on that first day, more nervous than walking into the firehouse for the first time. He wasn’t sure why, exactly—he’d done this before, back in El Paso, but that had been different. It had been a class specifically for people like him, who had been referred to art therapy as a way of helping them come home, in a dingy room in the VA center.
Honestly, he probably would have chickened out of that, too, if his physical therapist hadn’t suggested it as a way to regain some fine motor control in his hand—which he’d need if he ever wanted to work a physical job again. But he’d gone, trusting Shannon—and then his parents, after she left—to watch Chris for the two hours he’d be out.
It helped even more than he’d thought it would. He’d enjoyed it more than he thought he would. It hadn’t fixed anything, not really, but he passed the physical for acceptance into his chosen fire academies, and he liked the slow practice of drawing, using his hands for something productive, something he cared about, something that wasn’t life or death. He filled sketch pad after sketch pad, and in his prouder moments he actually let himself believe he was almost good at it.
So, when he moved to LA, once he was settled into a house that might one day become a home, once he’d adjusted to the schedule demanded of him at the academy and Christopher’s school, he tried to seek out a similar art program to join there.
In the end, he found himself slamming his laptop closed in frustration. Everything was either full or wouldn’t allow him to sign up on the basis that he’d already been enrolled in a similar class. He could take a private class, he figured, but with everything else he had to do, with everything Chris needed from him… he couldn’t justify the expense of something so frivolous, something so purely just for him.
It wasn’t until his birthday, when his Abuela handed him an envelope and gave him a kiss on the cheek, that he managed to find a way.
Inside the grocery store-bought “Happy Birthday, Grandson!” card, was a small slip of paper, letting him know she had paid for him to attend a ten week night course at a nearby art school.
It was a simple, thoughtful gesture—she hadn’t even been there when Eddie had taken lessons in El Paso, but somehow she’d figured it out, and gotten him something she knew he’d never do for himself. The thought of it made his chest ache, his eyes sting with tears he’d never let fall.
And so there he was, outside of the school on a Thursday evening after a long day of training. He’d opted for the Thursday classes for now, but the school allowed for flexible schedules, running three sessions a week. He’d be able to switch days as needed, as his shifts would change when he finished the academy and started work for real. It was exactly what he needed, but he still stood there, staring at the closed door, trying to psych himself up to go inside.
He didn’t belong there. This was a real art school, for people with real talent—young, idealistic artistic types who had their whole lives ahead of them. It wasn’t for people like him, with clumsy fingers and a world of pressure on his shoulders, only here for a little peace in the midst of an otherwise chaotic life, who didn’t know cubism from naturalism, or gouache from watercolor.
A hand reached out from behind him and opened the door. Eddie stepped aside, an apology on his lips.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re here for the life drawing class, right? First time?”
Eddie winced. “That obvious, huh?” he asked.
The stranger had a glint in his eye. “Nah. I just know I’d have recognised you if I’d ever seen you here before.”
Eddie blinked twice. Was he—was that flirting?
“C’mon,” the stranger said, nodding to the door. “We don’t want to be late, do we? I’m Buck, by the way.”
“Eddie.” He stuck out his hand once they were inside, and Buck shook it.
“Nice to meet you, Eddie. Uh, the class is through there, you can sign in with Pen. I just need to…” Buck pointed to a door with a small window, through which Eddie could see people mingling around some easels, then nodded towards a restroom sign to indicate why he wasn’t going into the class yet.
Eddie looked at the door. “See you in there?”
Buck grinned at him, tapping him on the arm. “You sure will.”
Eddie took a deep breath and walked into the classroom, giving his name to the woman he took to be Pen—a woman in her fifties with dyed pink hair and jewelled glasses.
“Nice to see you, Eddie. Why don’t you find an easel, get yourself set up. I’ll be starting the class just as soon as our model is ready.”
Eddie debated saving a spot for Buck, but decided against it, figuring they hadn’t exactly spoken all that long and Buck probably already had friends here he wanted to sit with. Still, he picked somewhere with an empty easel next to it, just in case. He wasn’t saving it, it was just… there.
Then Pen stood at the center of the semi-circle of easels and introduced herself, calling the class to a start. “We have a few newcomers here today—Eddie and Trudy, why don’t you introduce yourselves?”
Trudy went first, much to Eddie’s relief. She introduced herself as a recent retiree, who was challenging herself to try a new hobby every month in her first year of freedom.
Eddie waved a little awkwardly. He stumbled through an introduction and accepted the mumbled chorus of “hello” and “welcome” before Pen launched into a description of how the class would work, and some guidelines for how to be respectful of the model. Eddie glanced around—Buck still hadn’t come in. Eddie hoped everything was okay.
Like Eddie’s thoughts had summoned him, the door opened, and there he was. He wasn’t dressed the same as he had been—not that Eddie had particularly noticed his clothes, but the change in this case was easy to recognise. He’d changed into a white robe, his bare feet and legs visible at the bottom.
Eddie froze.
Buck didn’t make his way to an easel to set up. Instead, he took a seat on the stool next to Pen, offering a smile towards each of the students.
“This is Buck,” Pen said. “He’s one of our regular models. Buck, whenever you’re ready.” She nodded to him, and Buck smiled back.
Eddie averted his eyes, pretending to check his pencils were in order as Buck reached for the ties of the robe. When he found the courage to look up, he breathed a sigh of relief to see he was still, for now, wearing a pair of dark underwear.
Eddie was no prude, far from it. He didn’t usually flinch at nudity of any kind—close quarters in the army, not to mention training and working as a medic for so long had pretty much neutralised his perceptions of the naked human body in most contexts—but something about this felt different.
Buck was on the stool, hands braced on either side of the seat with one foot resting on the crossbar. His head was ducked, obscuring Eddie’s view of his eyes.
“You can choose to focus on any element of the pose at this stage, we’re just doing some warm-up sketches for now,” Pen explained. “For the newcomers, though, I would recommend starting with some basic proportions, ignore the details for now. I’ll come around and offer feedback and pointers to each of you individually while you work.”
Eddie looked at Buck, and his fingers itched.
He needed to draw him.
The warmup poses went by in a flash, and then Buck pulled his robe back on and left the room. After a quick break, he was back, and this time there was no underwear. He was naked, fully, confidently naked in front of a room full of strangers. He lay on his back on a blanket, one knee bent, arms under his head, as though he were stargazing, or admiring clouds in the sky.
Eddie had to look—had to start drawing, but it was like staring directly at the sun. He tried to clear his head, to focus on the basic shapes, as Pen suggested. He didn’t do a great job, but he tried.
By the time class wrapped up, and Buck was wrapping his robe back around himself, Eddie had something that vaguely resembled a sketch of his pose on the paper in front of him. Pen complimented him on his effort, but he wasn’t sure that she wasn’t just being nice.
He packed up his things, taking care that everything was neatly inside their case. He walked out alongside Trudy, saying goodbye to her at the door before turning towards his car.
“Hey—Hey, Eddie!” he looked around, doing a double-take when he saw Buck, fully dressed again, running towards him.
Eddie stopped, letting him catch up. “Hey,” he managed.
“How did you get on?” Buck asked, once he was close enough.
Eddie shrugged. “I, uh… I don’t think I’m exactly the next Michelangelo, but, uh… It was good to draw again, I guess.”
“Michelangelo, like the turtle?” Buck asked, head tilting to the side like a confused puppy.
Eddie laughed, and Buck ducked his head with a smile.
“Anyway, I—I kind of wanted to apologize earlier. I probably should’ve given you a heads up about… you know.” He scrunched up his face, gesturing down at himself.
“It’s all good, Buck. Sure, I was a little surprised when you walked in, but…” Eddie shrugged. “It’s fine. Thank you, honestly. I probably would’ve chickened out if you hadn’t met me at the door, so… Let’s call it even?” he offered.
Buck grinned, holding a hand out for Eddie to shake. “Sounds like a deal.”
“I’ll see you again at the next class?” Eddie asked, then winced at his choice of words.
Buck laughed. “Yeah, I guess you will. See you then.”
And he did.
He saw Buck again, week after week. There were different models who came on different evenings but somehow, Eddie’s schedule always lined up with Buck’s.
He went to class every week and learned the angles of Buck’s body, learned the exact positions of his tattoos and the way they stretched in different poses. He learned Buck’s face, the still way he held it as he posed and the way it would break into a grin or a laugh the moment he dropped a pose.
He spoke to Trudy, and to some of the other students, learning pretty quickly they weren’t the young art student types he’d imagined, but other people like him—who wanted to learn a new skill, or just wanted a place to exercise creativity after a long workday.
Pepa watched Chris when he needed her, and Eddie collected him there every week, usually either staying for dinner or taking home some leftovers. Sometimes, his abuela would be there, too.
“How are your classes?” Pepa asked, about four weeks in, urging him into a chair rather than letting him rush out.
“It’s going really well,” Eddie said. “Thanks for this. And thanks again for the classes, Abuela.”
“Are you making friends there?”
“Yes , Abuela. There’s a woman who started with me, she’s pretty nice. I spoke to her for a while today.”
“A woman?” Pepa asked, eyebrows raised. “Is she pretty?”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Pepa, come on!”
Pepa held her hands up, turning back to finish heating up his food.
“You seem happier, doing these classes,” Isabel commented as Pepa set the plate down in front of him.
“I really like drawing,” Eddie shrugged.
“You sure it isn’t someone at the classes?” she probed.
“Abuela,” Eddie groaned.
“You know, it’s okay to have a little crush.” she held her hands up.
Eddie looked around, checking out to make sure Chris wasn’t within earshot. “Abuela!” he repeated, voice hushed. “I’m still married, it’s still—”
“I’m just saying. You know, when Pepa and your father were young, your Abuelo used to travel a lot. He was the love of my life, but that doesn’t mean there weren’t times I looked at other people. There was a grocery clerk I remember, he was always so kind, always made Ramón laugh when I brought him.”
“Mamí!” Pepa protested, but Isabel waved her hand, dismissing it.
“I would never act on it,” she said. “But it didn’t hurt to look. There’s nothing wrong with an innocent crush.”
Eddie laughed at Pepa’s shocked expression. “Well, I definitely don’t have a crush on Trudy. I’m sure her husband thinks she’s beautiful, as do their adult children. She’s a nice lady, but I promise I—”
“Okay, okay. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself there anyway, míjo.”
Eddie made a face as his abuela pinched his cheek like she used to do when he was little. “How was Chris today?” he asked, to take the heat off himself.
Pepa started telling him about how much of a help Chris was with the dinner, and Eddie relaxed. The talk of crushes had unsettled him a little, if he was being honest.
He thought about it, as he drove home, as he got Chris into bed and tidied up the house.
He hadn’t really had all that many crushes in his life. Sure, there was Shannon. Of course there was Shannon, but other than her….
He remembered how it felt. The way his eyes sought her out in any room they were in together, the way his heart raced at the sight of her, the way he fumbled his thoughts and his words and flushed at any attention she sent his way.
He’d felt that way once before, for someone else, hadn’t he? Before Shannon.
He remembered Gabriel, all of a sudden—the kid who had transferred into his class in the sixth grade. He’d played guitar, and his hair swooped over his eyes, and he’d laughed at Eddie’s jokes. Eddie had wanted to be around him all the time, he’d wanted to feel Gabriel’s eyes on him and listen to him play and…
Christ.
He had a crush on Gabriel, all those years ago.
It wasn’t until the next class that it hit him again. When he spotted Buck walking in the door to the studio ahead of him and he felt himself speed up to try and catch up with him. When he made it, and Buck said hi to him before going to get changed, and when Buck sat up there on a stool, removing his robe.
Eddie did have a crush on someone from his art class.
He had a crush on Buck.
As he drove to the next art class, he repeated his Abuela’s words in his head. There’s nothing wrong with a silly crush.
It was only a crush, after all. It was his brain recognising the blatantly obvious: Buck was attractive and kind, and Eddie spent two hours every week staring at his naked body—it was inevitable that those wires would connect in the heads of at least one of the students. He wasn’t going to do anything about it, so it would be fine.
It wasn’t like they saw each other anywhere outside of those classes.
It wasn’t like they worked together.
Eddie stared at Buck, trying to figure out what to do here, in the middle of his new workplace, surrounded by new coworkers. From the expression on Buck’s face, he was just as much at a loss. He wanted to say something, wanted to acknowledge the fact that they’d already met, but he stopped himself. Do Buck’s coworkers— their coworkers—know about his side hustle?
“Eddie Diaz,” he introduced himself instead, looking around at the others. “Looking forward to working with you all.”
Buck’s expression turned dark, and Eddie felt his stomach sink.
The shift was a nightmare. If Buck wasn’t avoiding him, he was posturing, acting so differently to how he did in class that Eddie almost began to doubt whether he had a twin, if it weren’t for the tattoos he’d spent so many classes staring at.
Fucking hell, this was painful.
A harmless crush. Just a little fantasy, not something he’d ever need to face head on—a pretty face, a kind smile, nothing beyond that.
And here he was, at Eddie’s fresh start. His coworker. Acting like Eddie was the worst thing to ever happen to him, a threat to the entire team.
Eddie tried. He tried to follow Buck’s lead, and he tried to be the bigger person.
Buck wasn’t making it easy.
The rest of the team were great—accepting him immediately and without question, showing him the ropes and respecting his expertise, but Buck held out all through the day.
Eddie held it together until he got a message after dinner—Pen reaching out to let everyone know the Tuesday class would be cancelled, as the model was no longer available.
“Seriously, Buck?” Eddie cornered him in the bunk room, where he’d slunk off after finishing the dishes.
“What do you want?”
Eddie showed him the message from Pen. “This! Come on, man, I know this is… a surprise, but can’t we just be professional about it? You’re really going to make the whole class reschedule because of this?”
Buck narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so you recognise me now, huh?”
Eddie was caught off guard. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“I get it, okay. Looking at me pose is one thing, working with me is another, but you don’t need to act like we’ve never met. I thought we were… Never mind. I have work to do.”
Buck shouldered past him and stormed out of the room, leaving Eddie dazed. What the fuck was that?
He sat down on one of the bunks, frowning. Trying not to think of the weight in Buck’s shoulder as he pushed past him, the way his fingers had clenched, the steel in his eyes.
It wasn’t the Buck Eddie had grown to like, but it was still, unfortunately, extremely hot.
Eddie was in so much trouble.
He’d tried ignoring it, tried confronting Buck about it, and he’d only made it worse. As he emerged from the bunk room, Captain Nash called him over.
“Hey, Eddie, got a minute to chat?”
Eddie half-jogged over. “Of course, Captain Nash.”
He held up a hand. “First things first, it’s Cap, or Bobby.”
“Sure. Got it, Cap.”
Bobby smiled. “Better. Now, let’s talk.” he nodded to his office, and Eddie followed him in, palms sweaty in the same way they used to be when he’d been marched to the Principal’s office as a kid.
“How are you settling in?” Bobby asked.
Eddie weighed his options, settling on something that wasn’t a lie. “I’m getting the hang of things. You’ve got a great team here. Hen’s been really helpful.”
“You’re not… Having any particular difficulty settling in?” Bobby prompted once more, making Eddie shift in his seat.
Eddie shook his head. “Look, I mean… You can’t be instant friends with everyone, right? But I still think I’m a good fit for the team, and—”
“Relax, Eddie. You’re not in danger of being moved, I know you’ll be a good fit here. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”
Eddie nodded. “Of course. I appreciate it, Cap.”
Bobby stood and tapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Let’s get back to work.”
As Eddie turned to go, though, Bobby spoke again. “You know, I’m a little surprised—I really thought you and Buck would make a good pair.”
Eddie took a breath. “There’s still time,” he insisted, remembering that brief glimpse of what must be the real Buck he’d seen earlier, laughing with Hen and Chimney before he’d seen Eddie approaching and clammed up.
He’d just have to keep chipping away. Keep trying to be friendly, to make things normal, all the while ignoring the deep, squirmy feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of Buck’s smile, the way he’d arched his back at their last class, when he caught a glimpse of a tattoo in the locker room he’d spent hours tracing in his sketchpad.
There were new things, too—the way Buck’s voice turned gentle as he spoke to a patient who was scared and hurt, the way his hands worked carefully and oh-so-competently on the harness as they worked together.
A harmless crush on the guy who modelled for his art class was one thing, but on a coworker who wouldn’t even look him in the eye? Eddie wasn’t prepared for that.
And then it happened—Buck joined him in the back of that ambulance and helped him remove a grenade from a man’s leg, and he held Eddie’s gaze, accepted Eddie’s compliment and returned it.
And he’d smiled at him. A real smile.
An hour later, Eddie had another message from Pen, letting him know the class was back on.
“Hey,” Eddie said, sitting next to Buck at the end of shift.
Buck looked at him, then glanced around. “Hi. Um, you did good today. Busy first shift, huh?”
“Definitely… eventful,” Eddie agreed, with a smile.
“I’m sorry,” Buck said in a rush, almost cutting off Eddie’s words. “I was an ass today. I just—I was thrown, I guess.”
“Hey, I was shocked too.” Eddie bumped his shoulder against Buck’s, swallowing back his nerves. “I’m not used to seeing you fully dressed.”
Buck laughed, and it was probably one of the best things Eddie had ever heard.
“Can I ask you something?” Eddie couldn’t look at him, not like this, but Buck hummed in assent.
“Why did you act like I pissed in your cheerios?”
Buck exhaled slowly. “Well, why’d you pretend like you didn’t know me?”
Eddie looked over, but Buck had looked away.
“I didn’t wanna put you on the spot. Didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with the whole team knowing about the classes.”
“Oh. That actually makes a lot of sense.” Buck sounded embarrassed.
“Do they know?” Eddie asked. Buck shook his head.
“Then it’ll be our secret, huh?”
“Sure.”
They stood to leave, but before Eddie turned for his car, he grabbed Buck’s sleeve. “I can drop the classes—if it makes you uncomfortable, or I can try to schedule the ones Sadie models for.”
Buck shook his head. “You love the classes. Don’t drop them on my account. And Sadie only does the classes I’m on shift for, so…”
“So they’ll be all the ones I’m on shift for too. Right.”
Buck shrugged. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”
Eddie felt a silent thrill, an excitement he hated. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Buck smiled and waved, and headed back to his own car.
Eddie slept for the majority of his first day off, only waking long enough to collect Chris from school, help him with homework, and get him settled in front of the TV with a movie. Eddie sat next to him and promptly dozed off again.
He woke to a small finger poking his cheek.
“Daddy, can I have a snack?” Chris asked, leaning over him on the couch. Eddie took a breath, letting his kid’s voice put a smile on his face.
“Sure thing. Fruit?” He heaved himself to his feet with a grunt.
“Apples!”
“Coming right up, sir.”
Eddie peeled and sliced an apple, arranged it on a plate and then set it in front of Chris at the table with a flourish. “Would you like cinnamon sugar on that, sir?” he asked.
Chris giggled. “Yes!”
Eddie raised an eyebrow, and Chris corrected himself. “Yes, please.”
Eddie nodded, and sprinkled the topping over the apples. “Say when!”
Chris didn’t say when. He watched Eddie sprinkle the sweet mixture, smile growing wider with every second until Eddie stopped, gasping in mock-horror. “You were supposed to say when!”
Chris burst out laughing, and Eddie scooped him up, relishing in the happy sounds before he set him back down. He’d stopped before there was too much sugar on the apple, and Chris started to dig in.
His kid was happy. He had a job he really enjoyed, and he was actually, maybe, starting to become friends with Buck.
Things could definitely be worse.
Of course, he still had to get through art class. Walking through that door, taking a spot at an easel, waiting as Pen ran through the usual spiel for any newcomers, he barely processed a single word. He skimmed to a fresh page, not letting himself linger on any of the sketches already there.
And then Buck walked in, in his robe, and he offered his usual smile and greeting to the students. His eyes lingered on Eddie for a moment—was he nervous about this, too?
The slight hesitation before he took off his robe confirmed it, and strangely, it made Eddie feel better to know that it wasn’t just him.
He still barely managed to draw anything of the poses during class, focusing his attention on Buck’s hands, something Eddie could focus on without going insane. It sort of worked, as he remembered the way Buck had held so steady during the grenade call, how he’d gripped the weights at the gym, how they’d look—
Eddie cleared his throat and turned his eyes back to his work.
“Why do you do it?” he asked, next time they were on shift. They were in a period of downtime, everyone scattered around the firehouse. He was spotting Buck as he worked out.
“Do what?” Buck asked, grunting as he racked the weight and sat up.
“You know what.” Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Art class.”
Buck nodded slowly, glancing around. They were alone. “It’s a long story,” he said, finally. “Why do you take the classes?”
Eddie hesitated for a moment, but he was trying to be friends. Trying to be open, or whatever. He started taping his hands. “I don’t love talking about it, but it started as physical therapy. Now though, I just enjoy it.” He shrugged.
Buck got a look on his face. “You any good?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your work.”
Eddie smirked, turning towards the punching bag and taking a swing. “You like looking at yourself that much?” he teased.
“Oh, come on!” Buck protested. “I just wanna see what you’re working on when you get that little knot between your eyebrows.”
Eddie took another swing, but he missed the bag, Buck’s words pitching him off balance.
“You watch me drawing?” he asked.
Buck shrugged. “It can get boring up there. Helps to focus on something.”
The air was charged with something other than animosity now. Eddie took a sharp breath and aimed a volley of blows at the poor, defenseless punching bag. “How about I show you some of my drawings, when you tell me the story of why you go there?”
Buck was quiet for a long moment, then he reached out and grabbed the bag. He held Eddie’s eyes, something sharp in his expression that Eddie didn’t know what to do with. “Deal,” he said, holding a hand out.
Eddie shook it.
His breath caught in his chest as Buck's eyes locked on him.
They lingered, just a moment that seemed to stretch forever, until the bell sounded overhead, and Bobby’s voice called out, directing them towards the engines. Eddie reached out, and Buck grabbed his hand, letting him pull him to his feet, and they both ran off to get geared up.
They didn’t revisit the conversation, which Eddie was grateful for. He wasn’t sure what to do with it, with this thread of something that had filled the space between them.
He did his best. He worked alongside Buck, surviving an earthquake together, and he managed to keep his thoughts in line when Buck drive him home, exhausted and giddy from seeing Chris after a day of intense worry. He faltered when, a week later, Buck introduced him to Carla, solving his childcare crisis without so much as a second thought.
A harmless crush, Eddie had been telling himself. Nothing to worry about, just something to get past.
He was beginning to doubt whether that would be possible.
It wasn’t until he saw Shannon again, until he stood with her outside of Christopher’s new school and came face to face with the prospect of falling into a relationship with her again. His heart ached for her, and for Chris. He held her in his arms, and he thought about kissing her. Their foreheads touching, so close but still a million miles away.
And then he thought about Buck.
“I think we need to talk about getting a divorce. Getting a real custody agreement.” The words were painful, but he felt a surge of relief as he said them. Shannon stepped back, and he couldn’t tell whether the expression on her face was devastation or relief.
He had art class later, and his thoughts were still swirling as he walked in—he almost didn’t spot Buck, lingering just inside the door. He jumped about a mile when he felt a hand on his arm, but settled under Buck’s concerned eyes.
“How did today go? You had your meeting at the school, right?”
Eddie cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it was… Chris is fully enrolled, starting next week.”
“And…” Buck hesitated, clearly unsure whether he should say her name or not.
“It was…” Eddie sniffed. “It was rough. But I…. it’s good, right? You know, ripping off the band-aid. We can start to, you know… work things out.”
Buck looked away, just for a moment, and Eddie felt a pang. “I asked for a divorce,” he blurted, just as the door swung open and he heard Trudy’s familiar laugh.
Buck stared at him, eyes wide. “You—”
“We’ll talk later, okay? Come back to mine after class, we can talk when Chris is in bed.”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I can do that.”
Eddie gripped his shoulder, squeezing once, then let go.
He drew more than he had in weeks, that class. Tracing the lines of Buck’s face, his arms, his lips. The way his back arched in the first pose, the dip of his waist in another. He drew everything he wished he could touch.
“These are beautiful, Eddie,” Pen commented when she came to him. “There’s a sensuality to the pose that you capture so well. Gorgeous work.”
Eddie flushed, glancing up to find a matching blush on Buck’s cheeks, even angled away as he was, he must have heard the note. “Thanks, Pen.”
An hour later, Eddie emerged into the cool night air, taking a deep breath. He waved goodbye to some of the other students and waited for Buck to change.
“Hey,” Buck said, hands in his pockets, expression unsure. “Do you need to collect Chris anywhere?”
“No, Carla’s with him. Drive behind me?”
“Sounds good.”
They stood there in the dim light from the window for a moment, then walked wordlessly towards their cars. Eddie flipped through a few radio stations, tolerating each for only a few seconds before switching to another, until he just gave up and drove the rest of the way home in silence.
“So, uh…” Buck broke the silence which descended between them as soon as they’d both said goodnight to Chris and retreated to the kitchen. Eddie was glad it didn’t have to be him. “Divorce, huh?”
Eddie stared at the bottle of beer in his hand. “Yeah. I mean, felt a little hypocritical giving you shit about Abby when I was kind of doing the same, you know?” He laughed, but it felt hollow even to himself. “Besides, I… I realised I don’t want to go back. We were… a mess together. I want to give Chris stability, and this… isn’t that.”
Buck nodded. “Makes sense.”
Eddie watched him pick at the label of his beer. He started at the corner, pulling the paper from the glass one small piece at a time. He peeled off a bigger chunk, and rolled it between his fingers—an idle motion, not even conscious.
“It’s not the only reason,” Eddie blurted. Buck dropped the little piece of paper. “It’s the main reason, but there’s also… I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about what I want, and it’s—”
“Abby’s the reason I started modelling, you know?” Buck interrupted suddenly.
“What?”
“When I started talking to her. I was in a really weird place—I’m sure some of the guys have told you about Buck 1.0—but she seemed to get me, you know? And I wasn’t trying to sleep with her at first but it was… it was enough to be seen by someone like that. And then… She left.”
“Right.” Eddie couldn’t meet his eyes. He knew the stories, but it was always hard to reconcile that stuff with the guy he knew—the guy who just helped him tuck Chris in and who was learning to cook and who sat there in Eddie’s kitchen, sweeping all of the little scraps of paper he’d torn up into a pile on the table, so he could clean up after himself. He wondered how that happened—he couldn’t believe it was all thanks to Abby. This was the real Buck, the person he was at his core—the other stuff… it was armor. Eddie understood armor.
“And suddenly I was just… In her apartment, alone, and she wasn’t answering my texts, and I… I needed to be seen. I needed something , or I was going to lose my mind, and… Well. We had a callout to the school, and I got talking to Pen. She mentioned the classes, and the next day I went back and asked if they needed a model. I’ve been doing it ever since.”
Eddie reached out, putting a hand over Buck’s to stop him fidgeting any more with the beer label, but also just to touch him. “Has it helped?” he asked.
Buck shrugged. “I enjoy it. Pen’s a sweetheart, and I like seeing the art—how people perceive me, I guess.”
Eddie hummed. His hand was still covering Buck’s.
“It’s not the same as Abby, of course. Most of the time, the people at the classes just take me at face value, a collection of body parts and proportions to capture.”
“Most of the time?”
“Yeah. Once in a while someone will draw something that captures something new. And on very rare occasions, well…” Buck turned his hand over. Eddie could feel the sticky residue from the beer label on his fingertips. “You know, I think we had a deal, didn’t we?”
“A deal?”
“I told you why I model.”
And Eddie remembered. Of course he remembered. “All my stuff’s still out in the truck.”
“I can wait for you to grab it.”
Slowly, Eddie pulled his hand from Buck’s and stood. “Okay. I’ll just…” He left the room, went out to grab the art supplies he’d dumped unceremoniously in the backseat. When he came in, Buck had cleared away the residue of the wrapper and grabbed two fresh beers from the fridge.
Eddie set the sketchpad on the table and slid it over to Buck. It felt so much more intimate than when Pen leaned over his shoulder and showed him how to blend certain areas, how to hold his pencil so the lines flowed better or when to call something finished. Buck opened it up, and turned through the pages one by one with painstaking care. He stood just far enough away that he didn’t feel like he was hovering.
Buck didn’t say anything, didn’t stop until he reached the last filled page, with the final drawing from today. He stared at it, tracing the lines with his fingertip. “This is how you see me?” he asked, finally tearing his eyes from the page to look up at Eddie.
Eddie cleared his throat to remove the frog which had made it his home while Buck looked through the drawings. “I… I’m not the best at realism, I know it’s not a perfect likeness, but I—”
“Eddie, this is… You're incredible,” Buck cut him off again.
Eddie ducked his head, but when he looked up, Buck was still staring. He stood up, movements careful, deliberate.
“I—I heard Pen comment earlier, when she was checking in with you. I wondered… wondered what she meant. I don’t want to assume, But, Eddie, I—”
Eddie couldn’t stand it any longer. Buck was looking at him with such raw, open affection, with such uncertainty and hope, and Eddie had to make himself clear. He reached for Buck, pulling him close, and then he kissed him. It was clumsy, taking both of them a little by surprise, but Eddie couldn’t get enough of it. Buck’s hand hovered before settling on his waist, gripping tight like he was afraid to let go, and Eddie hoped he never would.
“In case it wasn’t clear,” he gasped, when the kiss broke. “I think I might be falling for you. That was the other reason I asked for a divorce. From the moment I saw you in the firehouse I knew it was never gonna be just a harmless crush.”
He felt Buck smile into the next kiss he pressed to his lips. “So you have a harmful crush on me?”
Eddie laughed, head falling back, but he didn’t move away from Buck, kept a grip on his shoulders, felt Buck’s hand tighten on his waist. “So harmful. You know how hard it is to focus on work when you’re out there looking the way you do?”
Buck snorted, burying his face in Eddie’s neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point. “I know exactly how hard that is—you’ve seen yourself in mirrors, right?”
“Seen a lot more of you than you have of me,” Eddie pointed out, breath turning short as Buck licked and kissed his way down his throat.
“Oh, I know,” Buck said between kisses. “My imagination had to work overtime.”
Eddie gasped as Buck nipped at a spot just behind his ear. “Maybe we should fix that?” he offered. He moved, making Buck lose his spot so he could kiss him again, a desperate need surging in him.
He crashed their mouths together, heat building. Buck’s hand slid up under his shirt, and Eddie couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this, the last time someone had touched him like this, wanted him like this.
It was with Shannon, sure, but those weeks before she left hadn’t exactly been full of moments like this.
He was pretty sure it had never felt like this, with her. Not from something as chaste as a hand on his waist.
It didn’t stay chaste for long. Eddie walked Buck back to press him into the wall, kissing his neck, trying not to whine out loud as Buck’s hand vanished from his waist.
“All good?” he asked.
“So good.” Buck was laser focused as he started unbuttoning Eddie’s shirt. Eddie didn’t let him get past the third button, stepping back and pulling it up over his head. His attempt at laying sexy failed, though, when it got stuck, shirt tight on his shoulders. Buck’s hands were gentle as he helped free Eddie from the garment, but when Eddie finally caught a glimpse of him again, he looked amused.
“That wasn’t as smooth as I thought it was gonna be,” Eddie admitted, feeling his cheeks flush.
Buck’s hand tangled in his hair, pulling him into a kiss, slow and hotter than anything Eddie’s ever felt.
Oh, fuck. He was still holding his shirt, but he grabbed Buck’s collar with his other hand. “Bedroom. Fuck, bedroom, please.”
Something sparked in Buck’s eyes, a feral sort of heat that Eddie wouldn’t mind drowning in. They stumbled towards the bedroom, pausing every few steps—stumbling over their feet, pushing each other into walls and trying not to make too much noise for fear of waking Chris.
Finally, finally, the bedroom door closed behind them, and Buck backed away from Eddie, hands moving to his belt. Eddie drank in the sight of him, kiss-red lips and bright blue eyes, crumpled shirt and heaving breaths. Every thought of letting Buck see him vanished, replaced with the dawning realisation that this time, he wouldn’t be simply staring at Buck from several feet away. He’d be right there, just the two of them.
He could touch.
Eddie watched, transfixed, as Buck removed his shirt, then unbuckled his belt. Like a magnet, Eddie moved towards him, replacing Buck’s hands with his own, fumbling with the fly, pulling him towards the bed. Buck pawed at him, racing to get Eddie’s pants off before Eddie succeeded with his.
Eddie hummed with victory, finally freeing Buck from his jeans, using a hand on his chest to press him down onto the mattress. Eddie stared at him. He’d seen Buck naked so many times, but this was a whole other beast. He was hard, chest heaving, smile wide as he looked up at Eddie, inviting, wanting. Eddie climbed onto the bed, kneeling over him. He placed a hand on his chest.
It was warm, firm and solid, coarse hair over soft skin. He moved it down, over Buck’s stomach before veering off to his ribcage, then moving back up, feeling the strong, solid muscles shift under his palm, under the barely-there layer of fat that hadn’t been there the first time Eddie had seen him, only a few weeks ago.
Eddie loved it.
He repeated the motion, following his hand with his mouth—kissing, nipping, tasting.
“Eddie,” Buck gasped, as Eddie began his third path over his chest. “Fuck, you're so—”
“Yeah?” Eddie kissed his way down, turning his attention to Buck’s stomach, his right hip, down to his thigh and then back up, switching sides, pretending not to notice the way Buck whined at him to cut to the chase.
“Please, Eddie. I need it, I need you to—I need—”
He was babbling, and every sound was music to Eddie's ears. He’d done that, he was the one who had gotten Buck to this point, nobody else, just him.
All for him.
He hovered above Buck for a moment, inhaled sharply at the sight of him, back arched, biting his own lip and leaking precome.
“Please,” Buck whined once more, shifting his hips.
How could Eddie deny him anything, when he looked so good laid out for him like that?
Eddie was pretty sure he'd never deny Buck a single thing he asked of him, if the sounds he made continued to be as pretty as the ones he made as Eddie took him in his mouth for the first time.
He pulled off as Buck's breaths grew harsher, as his words became more incomprehensible, as he tangled his hands in Eddie's hair and pulled.
Eddie crawled up his body as Buck scrambled at his pants. Hands grabbed his waistband and suddenly Eddie was on his back, staring up at Buck.
He raised his hips, making it easier for Buck to finally, finally, remove his pants, and Eddie moaned in relief as his dick was freed. Buck was staring at him, eyes wide, face flushed.
“God, Eddie.” He licked his lips.
“Hm?” Eddie arched his back, watching Buck watch him, desire and need setting his nerve endings on fire.
“You’re—you know, it’s a fucking tragedy that you’re not the one modelling out of the two of us.”
Eddie laughed, taking Buck’s hand and kissing his palm. Buck slid his hand around behind Eddie’s neck, cradling his head and lowering himself down, kissing Eddie’s lips in a way that might have been sweet, had he not moved his hips at the same time, a filthy roll that pressed him against Eddie, too much and not enough all at once.
Lips still touching, a kiss impossible to break, Eddie wrapped his legs around Buck’s waist, pulling him closer, closer, seeking more and more. He already felt his orgasm building—he wondered whether he should be embarrassed about that, but it felt too good to care.
Heat pooled in his stomach, his breathing turned shallow, the whole world narrowed to this, to Buck’s lips against his own, Buck’s hands on his body, Buck’s dick hard and hot, moving alongside his own.
A sound wrenched its way from his chest, rough and agonising, and he knew that was it. His legs clamped tighter around Buck’s waist, his hips stuttered, and he came, waves of pleasure that whited out his vision and took over his whole body.
He blinked, coming back to himself just in time to see Buck take himself in hand, following Eddie over the edge, a look of pure bliss taking over his features. Eddie batted his hand away and took over, working him through the orgasm, until he collapsed on top of Eddie, a heavy weight that felt like a heated blanket.
Buck buried his face in Eddie’s neck, nuzzling just a little. Eddie held him, hands stroking over his back, feeling each breath.
He started to doze, the weight and heat with the post-orgasm peace lulling him to sleep.
He woke to an early morning beam of sunlight which broke through a gap in his curtains, falling across his face. The weight was gone, and Eddie felt a pang of loss.
He sat up, and saw Buck, laying next to him on the mattress. He was on his stomach, face turned to the side, the golden sunlight resting across his shoulders. He was beautiful, and Eddie felt a sudden urge to capture the moment.
He crept out, careful not to disturb Buck, and grabbed his art supplies from where they’d left them in the kitchen.
He sat at the edge of the bed and put pencil to paper, sketching the broad lines of Buck’s back, the curve of his jaw, the loose fist his hand rested in.
His hand twitched, his eyes blinked, and he started to move. Eddie reached out, placing a hand on his back. “Shh,” he said. “Stay still for me?”
Buck’s lips twitched into a smile, but Eddie felt him relax back into the mattress.
“Morning, Eddie,” he mumbled, voice muffled by the pillow under his face.
“Morning, baby.”
Buck hummed, clearly enjoying the pet name.
Eddie reluctantly moved his hand away from Buck’s back and went back to his drawing. When he finished, he kissed Buck on the shoulder, felt the muscles contract, then stretch, and then Buck rolled over with a little grunt.
“Can I see?” he asked.
Eddie showed him the sketch—still rough, but capturing the peace of the moment.
Buck stared at it, then looked up at Eddie. “I love you.” He said it so simply, like it was something that just occurred to him, but he already knew deep in his core.
And Eddie felt it, a thread connecting them both, a truth as innate as his love for Chris.
“I love you too,” he said.
There was a sound down the hallway, Chris waking up. Eddie leaned forward and kissed Buck again. “I’m gonna get cleaned up, then I think we should go out for breakfast. What do you say?”
“Sounds perfect.” Buck smiled, radiant and beautiful in Eddie’s bed. “But I want to cook for you.”
It was the start of something, and Eddie couldn’t wait to see what it would become.