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Eddie is starting to question every single decision that led him to this. Because what the hell is he doing here, at a gay club on a Friday night?
He knows, though. He knows exactly why. Karen, Hen and Buck had suggested clubbing, and with a son in Texas, his calendar isn’t exactly filled with anything other than work and self-loathing. He didn’t really have a reason to say no. Buck knew he didn’t have a reason to say no. Buck would’ve let him lie and make an excuse anyway. Maybe that’s why he said yes.
Eddie can just do without the pit in his stomach that has slowly been growing since they got here.
He thought he would’ve been fine, because why wouldn’t he be? Maybe he just hasn’t gone clubbing enough for this to ever be an enjoyable experience. It doesn’t have anything to do with— with the theme of the club.
Karen had been by his side at the bar for the last hour, but she ran into an old coworker and disappeared into the crowd a few minutes ago. Hen and Buck have been lost to the dance floor since they got here. So, Eddie is nursing his pretty much empty fourth beer alone. Which is. Fine.
His eyes scan over the crowd of bodies in search of Buck, but with no luck. It’s not that he’s worried, but Eddie always prefers to keep Buck within his sight when alcohol is involved. Buck has a habit of disappearing as soon as he’s on his third drink. Case in point. Maddie says it’s because he ‘yearns for running’. Eddie thinks Maddie might be on to something.
God, his stomach is a mess. What the hell is he doing here?
“Hey, there.”
A finger pokes his shoulder, and he turns around.
The guy is smaller than him, but not by a lot, but he’s thin enough that Eddie still feels like he’s towering over him.
“Hey,” Eddie says, palms instantly clammy.
The guy eyes him, up and down, big brown eyes and curly black hair. Eddie’s eyes immediately seek a door in the corner of the room, another to the left of him, and he wants to shake his own brain and tell it to stop. Why is he eyeing exits at a gay club?
“Can I buy you a drink?” Big Brown Eyes says, leaning an elbow on the bar, but not inching closer.
“Uh,” Eddie feels himself chuckle in unease. “I’m good, thanks.”
Big Brown Eyes looks at his empty beer bottle and lifts a pierced eyebrow.
Eddie’s face turns hot, and he clears his throat to pretend he isn’t blushing down to his neck. “Uhm. I’m here with friends,” he says, trying to see if Karen would be a saint and come back right this second. “I’m straight. Sorry.”
Why are you saying sorry? Don’t be weird.
Big Brown Eyes hasn’t stopped smiling, but it turns a little softer at Eddie’s sheepishness. Which doesn’t help Eddie’s blushing, honestly. God, it’s just so hot in here.
“Worth a shot,” Big Brown Eyes says, shrugging. “Have a good night, gorgeous.” Then he winks and turns around to walk back where he came from.
The pit in Eddie’s stomach grows a little larger as he watches him disappear into the crowd of people on the dance floor. He wonders if Buck is still dancing or if he has taken a break outside. Or gone to the bathrooms. Or if he already left with someone. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing, would it? After— after Tommy and all that.
Eddie takes out his phone to check for new messages but meets nothing but the time still set to army hours on his lockscreen. 00:28. He’s only been here for an hour, and he’s already so ready to go home. He still can’t see Hen or Karen anywhere, either.
Maybe it’s the beer. He feels tipsy and it always makes him a little jittery. It isn’t because it’s a gay club. No, he’d feel like this if it was a normal club. Straight club? Clubs are confusing. Are they assumed straight unless it’s officially stated gay? Or maybe—
“Excuse me?”
Eddie’s head whips around to see where the voice came from.
A woma— no, a guy— person? — Jesus Christ, Eddie — stands in front of him, half a head shorter than him, maybe, at most, shoulder-length bleach blond hair and a very complicated eyeliner-glitter-something around the eyes. It sparkles underneath the lights in the club, and it’s— well. Pretty. It’s pretty.
“Yeah?” Eddie says.
Blue eyes look him up and down with a smile. “You come here often?”
Eddie’s cheeks flare up once again, and he drags a hand over his jaw on instinct. “No, I— “ he looks around the room again. Nothing. He’s still alone. “I’m here with friends.”
“They left you here alone?” The look Eddie receives is one of concern and not flirtation, which, while unnecessary, is kind of sweet.
“No, no, they just— “ Eddie trails off because, well, he is alone. “Yeah, okay, maybe they did.” He chuckles, then moves to clarify when the concerned look only deepens. “It’s fine, I promise. I’m not much of a clubber, so I’m not— the easiest to bring to this kind of stuff.”
The concern eases up, just a bit, then there’s a pause before— “I’m Charlie.”
Eddie nods in hello. “Eddie.”
Charlie smiles, pushes off the bar and turns toward him, giving him the full view of a black, tight, cropped tank top and a complicated concoction of leather and buckles wrapped around a lean but muscular torso. “Nice to meet you, Eddie.”
Eddie feels watched underneath Charlie’s gaze, but— not in the worst way. “Likewise.”
“So, can I buy you a drink, Eddie?”
The pit grows a little.
“Uh,” he starts. “I’m kind of— straight.” Don’t say sorry. “Sorry.” Fucking idiot.
Charlie’s smile doesn’t waver, though. It becomes playful.
“That’s fine,” The look turns a little dangerous. “I can work with kind-of.”
“Oh— uh, I mean—“
“I’m nonbinary,” And— yeah, that makes sense. “Your sexuality doesn’t really matter to me, to be honest.”
Eddie opens his mouth. Then closes it. Opens it again. “It doesn’t?”
“Well, it’s different for everyone, of course, but…” they trail off, looking thoughtful for a moment. “I like being an option for all kinds of people.” They smirk like they can’t help themself. “Even kind-of straight men at a gay club.”
“I don’t—“ Eddie doesn’t even know what to say. He says something anyway. “I don’t usually do this.”
“That’s fine.” Their eyes are soft under the fluorescent light. “So can I buy you a drink?”
Eddie looks down at his empty beer bottle and then back at Charlie, whose hair frames their face nicely, and the tattoos covering their arms and even some on their hands are beautiful.
Eddie is straight. Charlie shouldn’t be Eddie’s type at all. Hell, they aren’t Eddie’s type at all, but—
But they said it’s fine, right? They said it themself: They liked being an option for everyone. Even— even straight guys like Eddie.
Maybe it’s the overstimulating lights or the loud, booming music, or maybe it’s the way his limbs felt nice and loose. Whatever it is, it makes him decide.
“Alright.” Eddie smiles.
Charlie returns it immediately and waves down a bartender.
≡
“—and then I run across the yard with this swarm of bees behind me, and Buck is just screaming at me to run, so that’s what I do. I just run,” Eddie finishes with a laugh.
Charlie is leaning their elbow on the bar as they laugh, the kind that fills your whole body and makes you move with it. It looks good on them.
“It worked, though,” Eddie continues, taking a swig of his beer. “We got the civilian out, saved the day and all that.”
Charlie wipes a tear from under their eye as they laugh it off. “Jesus Christ, Eddie.” They take a drink from their own beer but have to stop halfway through because they start laughing again, which makes Eddie start laughing again, and between all that laughter, Charlie’s hand ends up on Eddie’s shoulder. They squeeze him a bit, lean on him for support. It feels a little corny, but Eddie finds that he doesn’t really mind.
Once they’re both laughed dry, Charlie takes a sip of their beer and turns back to the crowd of people. Eddie follows their eyes.
“So, is this Buck one of the friends who left you to fend for yourself tonight?” they say with their lips pressed to the bottle.
Eddie smiles because he can tell they’re teasing, but their overdramatic protectiveness of him is fun and makes Eddie a little smitten.
“Yeah, he’s my best friend actually.”
Charlie’s eyes shift to him as their brows lift a little. “Oh, really? Can you see him anywhere? I wanna get a face on the guy who is currently drowning you with perfume in my mind.” They dramatically close their eyes and sigh dreamily, and Eddie snorts before turning back to the crowd.
He hasn’t been able to spot Buck all night, but he should’ve known that when speaking of the sun…
Because not even ten seconds go by before the crowd of people on the dance floor shifts and Buck appears in the middle, squished between sweaty bodies, moving in sync with the mass like it’s second nature to him. His eyes are closing periodically to the music as he dances. Eddie wishes he could dance like that. He can dance, of course, he can; he didn’t win all those ballroom dance trophies for nothing, but he can’t dance like Buck does. Can’t let go like he does, in a sea of strangers, just letting his body move however it pleases. Eddie has always needed steps to follow. He wonders if Buck could teach him his.
“Tall. Curls. Hot. Twelve o’clock,” Eddie says, nudging Charlie’s elbow.
He knows exactly when they’ve spotted him because they let out a low whistle.
“Holy shit,” Charlie says, nodding approvingly.
Eddie can’t help but smile, weirdly proud of Charlie’s reaction. “Yeah. He gets that a lot.”
Charlie’s eyebrow lifts again, but they turn back to stare at Buck after a second. Eddie does too.
Buck has placed his hands on the waist of a guy in the meantime, a smaller (not that it’s hard being smaller than Buck) dude with a buzz cut and a crop top that successfully shows off his plush midriff. They don’t even look like they’re talking, not with Buck’s hands pulling him close against him like that. Eddie suddenly has the feeling of intruding on something he’s not supposed to see. Sometimes he forgets he wasn’t around for Buck 1.0, and he looks away the moment Buck’s hand slides down to the guy’s ass. He covers it up by taking a sip of his beer.
Charlie’s still looking, though. “Hot indeed.”
Eddie just swallows and nods.
“He’s gay?”
“Bi,” Eddie corrects, and Charlie hums.
There’s a pause, and he can tell they want to say more. He almost asks them when—
“And you’ve never even been tempted?”
Jesus Christ, okay then.
Eddie huffs and shakes his head. “Buck? Of course not.” He stops himself from repeating he’s straight. Hen told him it was weird. “He’s my best friend,” he shrugs instead.
Charlie still hasn’t taken their eyes off Buck. “And insanely attractive.”
“Yeah, I mean—” Eddie doesn’t know where he’s going with this. “Sure, I can see that.”
Their head finally turns to look at him, but they don’t say anything. He feels observed, analyzed, suddenly. He’s not sure what they find. He clears his throat. The corner of Charlie’s mouth twitches.
“And he’s the one who made you run across a backyard to lure bees away from a swimming pool?" they ask, and Eddie goes back to feeling giddy, like he always does when he tells this story.
“I swear it’s true!” he says.
“Oh, I believe you,” Charlie says, turning their body towards him again, Buck forgotten. “I’m just so sad I didn’t get to witness you covered in bees.”
Eddie shrugs. “It’s a shame. That look had the ladies swarming me.” God, he can’t believe he’s actually flirting.
Charlie groans. “God, that was horrible.”
“It was right there, c’mon,” Eddie giggles, and Charlie holds their deadpanned expression for a good while before they break into a smile.
“I guess…” Charlie sighs, then starts smirking. “You are pretty sweet looking,” they say, eyes running over his face, clearly lingering on his lips.
Eddie feels heat spread to his cheeks, but he forces himself not to look away. The pit in his stomach is long gone. He’s actually having fun.
So, he holds Charlie’s gaze, letting them lean a bit closer. “Now that was corny.”
Charlie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter as long as it’s working.” Their eyes dart down to his lips again. “Is it working?”
Eddie feels his breath hitch, his eyes darting down to their lips in response. “I—“
Charlie’s other hand covers his own on the bar as they take a step closer.
“Such a pretty blush,” they mumble, quietly, to themself as they run their eyes over his face. Eddie burns about a thousand degrees hotter.
He finds himself turning his hand over, letting Charlie run their fingers up and down his palm. His eyes run over their exposed throat and their hair falling gracefully on their shoulders. Their waist is narrow, but their shoulders are broad. Something is stirring in his stomach, and it takes him a second to figure out that it’s arousal.
“Jesus, Charlie—“ he huffs in disbelief. What the hell is he doing?
“Eddie, listen.” They squeeze the hand on his shoulder, getting his attention back. The flirtation in their voice is gone, replaced with something akin to gentleness. “You don’t have to overthink this. I can take a hint and walk away. No harm, no foul.” Their eyes are reassuring but persistent. Eddie instantly squeezes their hand on the bar.
“No, you don’t— you don’t have to do that,“ he says it before he even registers that he’s thinking it. He doesn’t want them to walk away. It feels like they’ve backed him into a very, very nice corner. A corner he wants the be in. It’s a new feeling. He doesn’t let himself think about why he likes it.
Charlie smiles, softly, and resumes their caressing of his palm with their fingers. “Okay.”
Eddie clears his throat awkwardly. “I just—“ he starts. “Clubs aren’t usually my setting.” The so-I-don’t-do-this-often-maybe-ever is left unsaid, but they both hear it. “And I’ve been told I don’t really know how to, uh, pick someone up.”
Better to let them know now what a mess he is before they get their hopes up.
Charlie’s smile doesn’t dimmer. Instead, it turns sultry, and Eddie feels his mouth go a little dry. “Good thing I can take care of that.”
It makes Eddie huff out an unexpected laugh. He has to give it to them — They’re good at this.
Then Charlie straightens up, aligning their face with Eddie’s and grabs the front of their belt. Eddie swallows, a weird sense of déjà vu hitting him before fading away within seconds.
“I could use some air,” they say, never taking their eyes off him. “Why don’t we go outside for a bit?” The fingers tracing his palm begin traveling up his arm, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps.
Eddie’s breath shakingly leaves his lungs through parted lips. He looks down at the hand running up his arm, then back at Charlie. He’s half hard in his pants, has been since they started touching him, maybe, he doesn’t even know, but he’s buzzed and suddenly horny and his friends left alone him, not on purpose, but they still had, and he’s actually having fun for the first time since he got here, since Christopher left even, since Father Brian had made him think about joy or whatever, and this might not have been what he meant but maybe Eddie doesn’t care. Charlie is funny and kind, and Eddie finds them attractive. He doesn’t know why or how, but Charlie said it’s fine, so Eddie sure as hell isn’t going to dwell on it.
For the first time since he saw Kim in that store, since his parents showed up on his doorstep to take his son away, his brain finally shuts up.
He looks back at the sea of dancing people. Buck has already disappeared again.
Eddie leans closer, takes a deep breath, and says— “Lead the way.”
≡
Charlie leads him by their hand, not through the big crowd of people, but along the wall until they make it to a discreet-looking door with a sign that says staff only. It’s nearly hidden behind a protruding wall next to the bar, and Eddie wouldn’t have noticed it on his own.
Without hesitation, Charlie opens the door and leads them outside into what can only be the alleyway behind the club. Eddie lets out a breath he doesn’t know he has been holding, as the silence of the night air makes his shoulders sag with relief.
“We’re not allowed to be here, are we?” Eddie asks, but he doesn’t really care about the answer. Not when he can finally smell Charlie’s perfume. Cologne? There’s an earthiness to it that Eddie would like on himself, but a sweetness he won’t be surprised to find at a florist. It’s addictive.
“It says Staff Only to avoid smokers going out here instead of the designated smoking area out front,” Charlie explains, which isn’t really an answer, but they’re tucking him away from the door and further into the alley, so Eddie doesn’t really care. He hums and lets himself be pulled along.
And then Eddie feels hard brick against his back and a pair of hands on his hips, holding him still.
Charlie’s nose brushes his, and Eddie feels like he’s on fire. Like something inside him is burning its way out, making his blood simmer and his bones soften. His whole being is buzzing.
“Please say I can kiss you,” Charlie breathes against his lips.
Eddie nods, and then he’s being kissed.
He responds on instinct, one hand finding the dip of Charlie’s waist and the other running through their hair. Both sensations feel so familiar. He knows this. This is what he likes. Soft, long curls and—
And then, against his face, his chin, Eddie feels the faint sensation of— stubble. The scratching feeling he recognizes from his own face when he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He knows it so well, but not like this, not against his own skin. The shock of it makes him pause just long enough for Charlie to slip their tongue inside, curling it around his own.
Eddie groans and moves his hand from Charlie’s hair to their face, cupping their cheek, letting his fingers dance across the prickly hair on their jaw. He can’t stop touching it.
“I forgot to shave today,” Charlie breathes against his lips, a smile tucking at the corners of their mouth. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Eddie couldn’t have responded with anything dignified, so he just pulls them back into a kiss with enough force that they release a filthy sound into his mouth.
Charlie’s hand moves down his stomach until it pushes under his t-shirt. Eddie draws in a sharp breath as their fingers stroke the skin of his stomach, slowly travelling upwards. Their other hand is running down his arm, the one that holds their waist, until it reaches his wrist. They pull his hand off and push it against the wall behind him, pinning it to the rough surface of the red bricks.
In an attempt to even the playing fields, Eddie starts to kiss along their jaw. The prickling sensation across his lips from their beard stubble is enough for him to stick his tongue out too, licking at their skin. It pulls another moan from Charlie’s lips, and Eddie continues his path down to their neck, where he starts to work on what he hopes to be an impressive hickey.
“Fuck,” Charlie breathes, and in a flash rolls them around, successfully pulling Eddie’s body against theirs as they throw their head back against the wall. Immediately, their hands move from Eddie’s stomach to his back, pushing the fabric of his shirt up to his shoulders.
With a newly free hand, Eddie drags it down Charlie’s torso and, in a move he can only describe as pure habit, squeezes a hand where he would usually find breasts. Instead, he finds, well, nothing. Or maybe— huh.
Charlie’s hands freeze on Eddie’s back, and only then does it occur to him what he’s doing.
“Shit,” he curses against their neck. “I’m sorry, I just—“
“Hey, you’re fine,” Charlie says quietly. They sound out of breath, too. “I’m taped up, so you won’t find much, but it’s fine. You can touch.”
Eddie pulls back a bit to look at their torso. Upon first glance, it just looks flat, like a— like a male chest — can he say that? — but as he lets his hand brush over the fabric of their tank top, he can feel the soft tissue, almost as if it’s pushed to the side.
“Uh, how—“ he stops, playing their words over in his head. “Tape?” And he must look a little dumb because Charlie laughs softly.
“Yeah,” they say, their fingers going back to exploring his spine. “It’s how I bind. You can feel for yourself.”
The suggestion makes Eddie blush down to his toes, but his curiosity wins, and he slowly but surely pushes his hand under Charlie’s tight top.
Where he would expect to find breasts, his fingers meet what he first thinks are bandages, but turns out to be regular KT tape, successfully pulling the tissue of Charlie’s chest flat. It’s honestly kind of impressive.
As Eddie runs a thumb over the tape, along its edges, feeling the shape of it, where it starts, where it ends, Charlie’s lips meet his neck.
It’s in the midst of the sensation of Charlie’s tongue traveling along his neck, making him shudder, and the soft texture of the tape that Eddie realizes that the feeling spreading in his stomach is relief. Charlie is— they’re flat. They look— feel flat. Eddie’s breath stumbles at the realization, and he pulls back to look down again. His hand under the fabric of Charlie’s shirt, running along a flat span of chest, and Eddie’s cock twitches in his pants. It— it’s unexpected.
You didn’t really know what to do with Shannon’s anyway
And, Jesus Christ, isn’t that a thought.
“Holy shit.”
He doesn’t realize he whispers it out loud until Charlie chuckles against his skin, which then turns into a soft bite. He has to hold back a groan.
His hands continue to map out Charlie’s chest, their torso, moving onto their back when they make an approving noise. They’re well-toned, with defined shoulders and back muscles. Their belly is soft and pudgy, but Eddie can feel the hard muscle underneath, and it makes him want to dig his fingers into them, challenge the strength of them.
He’s so busy trying to get to know every inch of Charlie that he barely notices his mouth resting on their shoulder, breathing against their skin. It isn’t until he feels the subtle pulling of his belt that he snaps out of whatever he’s lost in.
Charlie mouths at his neck, kissing up along the vein, up behind his ear. Their fingers are resting on his buckle, almost caressing the shape of it.
“Is this okay?” Charlie asks against his skin, and Eddie swallows loudly against the quiet of the alley.
He wants to say yes. Hell, his dick is screaming at him to say yes, please, touch me. But his hands are on their chest and their stomach and their spine, and he wants to drag them down to their hips, push at their pants just to feel more skin.
“Can I—“ Eddie cuts himself off, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. “Can I touch you first, maybe? Is that— is that okay?”
Charlie smiles against his shoulder before licking over his Adam’s apple, which makes Eddie’s knees almost buckle under him. They pull back a bit, removing both hands from his belt. Something spreads over their face, knowing and intriguing all at once, and then they fall against the wall behind them, palms up and unmoving, and say, “I’m all yours.”
And that’s all Eddie needs.
Without letting himself think about it, he drops to his knees. Charlie’s hand is in his hair in an instant, and then he’s looking up at them. Their face gives away their approval as they rest a hand on their belt.
“You look good down there, honey.” They smile, and Eddie feels his mouth drop open, before he catches himself and swallows hard, eyes darting between their face and their hand, currently unbuckling their belt.
He cautiously lifts his hands up to their pants, and they get the hint, letting their hand drop, while their other one is still caressing the back of his head. Like this, he’s pretty much at eye level with their belly button. He feels his hands shake as he fumbles with pulling their pants down blindly, but he can’t take his eyes off the dark trail of hair that disappears down their boxers. Holy shit.
He barely hesitates before he leans forward and licks over it. He presses his tongue flat against their stomach, trailing it up and down, and he’s egged on by the sigh leaving their lips above him and the light taste of sweat filling his mouth.
There’s a groan, and he tries his hardest to pretend it didn’t come from him.
He manages to pull their pants down to their thighs, which he deems good enough, before he kisses down their lower stomach, over the dark fabric of their underwear. They’re wearing boxers, Eddie’s mind provides, why is that hot?
The hand in his hair tightens, pulling him back so he’s looking up and— oh
Charlie looks down on him, looks over him, wetting their lips, and Eddie holds his breath.
“You’ve done this before, right?” Charlie asks, grinning just the tiniest bit. “Being straight, and all.”
Eddie’s stomach flips and instinctively moves to look away, but the hand in his hair tightens again, forcing his eyes back on Charlie. He’s the one with his knees solid on the ground, but it still feels like their hand in his hair is the only thing holding him up.
They raise an eyebrow, and Eddie knows his entire face is red as he tries to nod against the grip in his hair.
“I look a little different, though,” Charlie continues, nails scratching soothing patterns into his scalp as they loosen their grip, and Eddie has to fight against letting his eyes fall shut. “But you’re a medic, so I don’t think I’ll have to explain the effects of HRT to you, right?”
Eddie shakes his head. “No, I—“ he swallows. “I know.”
Charlie nods, clearly pleased. “Perfect.” And then the hand in his hair starts to nudge him to look down again, a clear-cut sign to get back to his previous task.
And Eddie is about to give in, let his head be guided and his tongue take over, but something makes him pause, and he resists, keeps his gaze tilted up.
Charlie pauses and waits, listens to him clear his throat awkwardly.
“What do you…” He trails off. “I mean, what do you call—“ cutting himself off, he looks away from their eyes and stares at their lips instead, which are spreading into a soft smile.
“I’m not really picky,” Charlie shrugs and decides to put Eddie out of his misery. “Pussy is fine.” Eddie nods, hoping it comes across as encouraging. “And most of the time I call my bottom growth my clit.”
Right. Eddie can work with that. Familiar territory.
Then Charlie leans their head against the wall behind them, eyes still locked on Eddie kneeling on the ground. “Sometimes, though…” they trail off, and Eddie is about to ask them to continue when the hand in his hair tugs him forward, connecting his lips and nose to their stomach again before pushing him down, forcing him to sit back on his heels, pressing his face against their underwear until Eddie feels something small and hard nudge his lower lip. Someone groans again, and this time he can’t even try to pretend it doesn’t come from him.
“Sometimes I call it my dick,” Charlie finishes, and Eddie’s mouth falls open as his breath hitches, letting it dampen the fabric still separating them. His eyes close on their own. His cock pushes uncomfortably against the zipper in his pants, but he doesn’t reach for it.
Instead, he lets his tongue dart forward, nudging the hardness, flattening against it and pushing. Charlie releases a heavy sigh above him.
The hand grips his hair again, enough to sting.
“You wanna suck my dick, Eddie?”
And then he’s looking back up at Charlie, and he’s speechless, voice lost to heaving against dark cotton and his fingers digging into his thighs and Charlie’s eyes boring into his, searching for something, waiting for something. Anything, maybe, or just—
Something.
And in this moment, Eddie can’t speak, can’t let a single word leave his lips, but he can give Charlie that something. He can give it to them, because then maybe it would mean he doesn’t have to keep it. It would be someone else’s, and he could go home to his empty house and never have to worry about it again. It would free up the space in his chest that has been aching, like a bruise he forgot existed, or maybe he ignored it, but something is pressing on it, and maybe if he gave it to Charlie, it would stop hurting.
Because they both know what it is. And they both know it hurts.
There’s something so soft written on Charlie’s face, behind the heat and the want.
This hurt you have. Give it to me. Just for now, in this alley, in the dark, give it to me. I’ll keep it safe.
And so, Eddie lets his hands travel up Charlie’s legs until they hook on the hem of their underwear, his eyes never leaving Charlie’s face, and he nods.
He holds their gaze as he pulls their boxers down, as his chin makes contact with coarse dark pubic hair, and until he swears the salty and sweet scent of them hits his nose. Then his eyes fall shut, and his tongue darts out, seeking heat and wetness, and he finds it. Soft, slick tissue and then—
Eddie licks over the head of Charlie’s clit — their dick — and it’s like nothing he’s ever experienced. It feels big against his tongue, and it’s unmistakably hard. Erect his mind adds. His fingers dig into Charlie’s hips as he presses his face closer against them, burying himself deeper.
“Fuck,” Charlie breathes, a moan following like an omen, and Eddie mirrors the noise in his throat as he closes his lips around them, minding his teeth and letting his tongue explore instead.
His own hard cock is leaking in his pants, like an afterthought, but he doesn’t mind. The pressure against his jeans makes his skin buzz with excitement. It feels right to leave it.
Charlie grips his hair hard as he flicks his tongue against them. “Fuck yes, baby,“ Their voice is raspy and low, and he feels it travel down his spine, leaving goosebumps in its trail. “That’s it.”
Their hips start to rock against him, gently, and the hand in his hair moves his head with the barely-there rhythm, forcing him to mouth at Charlie’s dick in an up and down motion, almost like— almost like he’s sucking a—
A noise escapes Eddie, louder than the one before, even muffled against skin. It doesn’t make sense; it’s not like Charlie has a lot of length — testosterone can only do so much — but it’s still a dick. And Eddie’s sucking it, he’s—
This is okay. They said it’s okay. It doesn’t have to mean anything, it doesn’t have to change anything, you’re fine, Eddie, you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re—
“Jesus, Eddie, you’re a natural,” Charlie groans, their hips rolling against his face. He breathes heavily through his nose, but he has been feeling lightheaded since he dropped to his knees. He looks up, wanting to see the effect for himself and finds Charlie’s eyes already on him, half-lidded and filled with something darker. Their voice is so sure when they say— “You love this.”
It's not even a question. They both know.
Eddie finally puts a hand over his crotch and squeezes, relieving the pressure if only for a moment. He chokes out another moan, his mouth briefly leaving Charlie before chasing after them.
“Take your cock out,” Charlie says, rolling their hips harder against Eddie’s face.
Eddie’s hands immediately go to his belt, then zipper and then he’s pulling his cock out over the waistband of his underwear and squeezing himself. He groans against Charlie’s dick before holding his head still with his tongue out, letting them move against him as they please.
“Just don’t come until I get my hands on you, okay?” They say it like it’s self-evident, like it’s just to remind Eddie that this is how it’s going to happen, obviously. He doesn’t even know how they make it sound so casual or why he doesn’t even think twice before he nods his head, ultimately rubbing his tongue against them as a result, and the grip in his hair tightens, forcing him to hold still.
Now he’s just holding his dick in his hand, not pulling, barely squeezing. It’s enough. He doesn’t dare to do more.
“God, fuck—“ And the words rush over Eddie like a compliment. The grinding of Charlie’s hips is unforgiving, and he feels his eyes fall shut. He mindlessly runs his thumb up and down his cock, like an afterthought, as his head, his neck, his shoulders fall slack. He doesn’t have to hold still anymore. Charlie will do it for him.
Eddie doesn’t know if he’s making noise. He feels his throat working when he exhales through his nose, but he can’t bring himself to care. His ears are buzzing with the sound of Charlie’s heavy breathing above him, their words barely registering as they practically ride his face, occasionally pausing their movement so Eddie can suck their cock between his lips. Wetness covers his cheeks, his chin, even his nose, and the taste of them rolls over his tongue again and again as Charlie grips his hair tighter and grinds against his face.
“That’s so good,” Charlie pants, their hips stuttering as Eddie captures their cock between his lips again and swirls his tongue. “You got me so close, Eddie, you’re so good—“
This time, Eddie physically feels the pathetic sound leave his lips. It doesn’t sound like him, he doesn’t make noises like that, but he does now. Charlie is pulling them straight from his chest, and he can’t stop them. He tightens his fist around his cock, right at the base.
Charlie’s rhythm is becoming frantic, their voice breaking, and Eddie swears he can feel them get wetter, or maybe that’s his drool, but he’s sure that they—
“Sucking me off so good, ‘m gonna come.” Eddie’s whole body shudders as the hand in his hair pulls hard enough to draw tears to his eyes and goosebumps down his arms. He flexes his tongue and sucks, pushing closer to get their cock deeper, letting the coarse dark hair scratch against his face until the unfamiliar sensation of a rug burn prickles his skin. He wants them to come, all over him, riding his face, inside him—
And—
“Fucking beautiful, baby, c’mon take it, take it—“
Fuck.
He opens his eyes just in time to see Charlie’s face contort, their mouth falling open as their head falls back against the wall.
Their cock twitches in his mouth as they fall apart. Eddie lets go of his own cock — letting it pathetically drool down on the asphalt beneath him — to grab a hold of Charlie’s hips, holding them up against the brick wall as they groan and curse into the cool night air. Eddie’s eyes are glued to them. Their chest that heaves, eyes squeezing shut. A single blond curl falling into their face. It reminds him of someone.
Time seems to pause as it happens.
Then their face finally relaxes, their eyes open and find Eddie’s. The smile they give him is enough to warm him down straight to the bone.
The hand loosens its grip, fingers run through his hair. A thumb brushes over his bottom lip. He catches it between his lips and sucks it in.
Charlie’s grin widens into a chuckle as they push their thumb deeper. Eddie’s eyes fall shut again with a sigh. Nails scratch his scalp, soothing the sting from all the pulling.
“C’mon, baby, help me get my pants up so I can take care of you.”
The thumb pulls from his mouth and taps gently against one of his hands that still holds their hips.
Eddie reaches down and grabs their boxers, pulling them up their thighs until Charlie takes over to secure them on their hips. Then the same with their pants. Charlie closes their belt because Eddie’s hands are shaking.
Then, before he can protest, Charlie sits down on their knees in front of him, bringing them face to face again. Their hair is wild, and they’re still slightly out of breath, but they’re smiling, so Eddie is smiling and then he’s pulled into a kiss that’s soft and gentle and determined, and all he can do is open his mouth and let it consume him.
Charlie kisses his lips, his cheeks and chin until he realizes they’re cleaning him up, licking the wetness away. It pulls a moan from his throat as he chases their tongue back into his mouth.
They kiss for a bit until Charlie pulls back.
“I believe it’s your turn now,” they say, tone teasing as they look down at his cock still hanging out of his underwear.
Eddie follows their gaze and looks down at himself. He’s still hard, more than he realizes, judging from the pre-cum dripping slowly from his tip. He swallows the saliva flooding his mouth.
“Can I make you come, Eddie?” they ask, lips hovering over his own as they push into his space.
Eddie feels their fingers run over his stomach, push up under his shirt and scratch at the trail of hair that runs from his navel and down. His cock twitches pathetically.
He barely hears himself as he whispers; “Please.“
And instantly, a hand closes around him, squeezing him hard, and Eddie whines. He’s so hard and he hasn’t come, he didn’t come, he waited, he waited, he waited—
The hand disappears, and he lets out another weak sound because Charlie’s pulling away from him suddenly and fuck, no— but then a palm is presented to him, held up to his face. He looks at Charlie desperately.
“Spit.”
Eddie looks down at Charlie’s hand and, without thinking about it, collects all the spit in his mouth and lets it drip right into their palm. He feels some slide down his chin, but his hands are too busy digging his fingers into his thighs to reach up and wipe it away.
And then Charlie’s hand, covered in Eddie’s spit, wraps around him again. The sound is obscene, slick and loud, and Eddie’s hips buckle involuntarily up into their grip as his breath stutters with a broken a-ahH, it’s pathetic and embarrassing, and the hottest thing to ever happen to him, and it’s happening right now in an alley behind a gay bar.
Charlie squeezes his cock, sliding their hand up and down in an unforgiving pace, pausing only to rub over his head, to dig their thumb into his urethra before pushing up against his glans.
Their other hand travels down his torso before sliding up under his shirt, fingers mapping out his skin, his scars. It exposes his stomach to the cool night air, and it makes his breath hitch again.
And when their thumb gently strokes over his nipple, a moan rips from his throat, tipping him forward until their lips hover over each other. They continue to breathe into each other’s mouths as Charlie quickens their pace and moves their hand to Eddie’s other nipple, digging their nail into it, just barely, but still enough to make Eddie’s hips stutter.
He’s getting so close. He’s almost there, he just needs— needs something, he just—
“You’re getting close, Eddie?” Charlie says against his lips, and Eddie lets out a whine he would deny if asked, but it answers Charlie’s question, nonetheless. “Yeah, you are.”
Their fingers that have been pinching his chest — probably leaving him all shades of red — pulls out from under his shirt. Without even thinking, both of his hands leave his thighs, as if to stop Charlie from taking their hand away, as if to grab their wrist and pull them back to where he wants them, but he stops, places them back on his thighs and clenches his fists.
He thinks he did it fast enough for Charlie not to notice, but the smile that spreads on their lips makes him think he hasn’t been all that successful.
“Shh, I’m just gonna try something,” they say, almost whisper, still breathing into Eddie’s mouth, and Eddie just nods, frantically and with half-lidded eyes. He doesn’t care what they do or what they want to try, he just wants Charlie’s hand back on him immediately. “I think you’ll like it.”
Their pace on him has slowed, but they pick it up again, full strokes from base to top, wet from Eddie’s spit and pre-cum. Eddie groans, his throat so tight it feels like he’s holding his breath against his will.
Then he feels it. Two fingers lightly running over, then under his balls, leaving him shivering, until they settle just behind them. His perineum, the medic part of Eddie’s brain provides.
His eyes widen, and Charlie licks a smile over their bottom lip. Then the fingers press.
The pleasure exploding in his stomach makes Eddie’s entire body spasm. He writhes under their hands as they relentlessly keep the pressure of their fingers against him, until they’re sliding them further down until they run over— God. Something in Eddie breaks.
The hand on his cock is squeezing him so tight, a thumb running over the head and digging in till it hurts. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, what kind of noises he’s making, it’s all just static, white noise. He just knows that Charlie is looking at him, making him feel good, making him come, oh god he’s coming, he’s—
“That’s it, honey, there you go—”
“A-argh—“
Like a puppet, Eddie feels his body release, turning to liquid, the strings finally cut. His eyes squeeze shut as he falls forward, his mind wiped empty, his skin buzzing. His forehead makes contact with Charlie’s shoulder as they stroke him through it, lips moving against the hair behind his ear. It all feels muffled, but he has a feeling that if he asked Charlie to repeat it afterwards, they would.
He finally forces his eyes open, just in time to see the last ropes of cum covering Charlie’s hand. A thin string of drool drops from his lower lip. The sight of it hitting Charlie’s wrist of the hand still slowly stroking him is almost surreal. It feels filthy, dirty and— Eddie releases one last guttered sound before he gathers the strength to lightly push against their hand.
Charlie releases him, their cum-covered fingers held out between them like evidence. Eddie pulls back, lifting his heavy and blissfully empty head from Charlie’s shoulders. He can’t take his eyes off the string of cum curtaining between their fingers. Charlie’s eyes follow his line of sight before settling back on his face.
The fingers present themselves in front of him, an offering, a request. His mouth opens before they even press against his lips. The taste is salty and bitter, mixing with the already existing sweetness of Charlie in his mouth. He groans as his lips close around the digits.
Charlie continues to look at him, and Eddie swears the thing washing over their face is pride.
“What a pretty face,” they mumble.
Eddie’s face lights up as they pull their fingers out of his mouth. He watches them wipe them off on their pants before reaching for him. Delicately, they grab Eddie’s cock and pull his underwear back over him. He hisses with sensitivity; his hips stutter a bit, and Charlie chuckles as they close his belt with sure hands.
And then they just look at each other.
There’s a soft smile on Charlie’s face, and Eddie doesn’t know if he mirrors it because he doesn’t really know what just happened. Or, he does, of course, he does, but what now? They hooked up, they both came, they’re dressed again, and then what? Is there— are there rules to bar hook-ups? Is Eddie supposed to say something, do something? Do they exchange numbers?
“Hey,” Charlie interrupts and their face comes into focus again. “You okay?”
Eddie can feel his eyebrows pulling together. His chest is still rising rather quickly even though he’s trying to get his heart to slow down. He licks over his lips.
“Yeah,” he says, but there’s something buzzing under his skin and a taste in the back of his mouth. “Just— overwhelmed, I think,” he hears himself say, and it’s not until he says it that he realizes how true it is.
Charlie’s eyes widen a little bit, and a hand moves up to squeeze his shoulder. “In what way? Good or bad?”
Eddie finally reads their face as concerned and he almost laughs. “Oh my god, in a good way. Yeah, good. That was— holy shit, that was probably the best sex I’ve ever had,” he says with a chuckle that’s light with air, and he hopes it covers up how his hands are trembling. Charlie doesn’t laugh with him. The edges of their mouth twitch, but they don’t even huff out a chuckle. He doesn’t understand. It’s funny. The best sex he’s ever had, and it was in an alley behind a gay bar with someone he just met, and they’re not even a woman—
Eddie looks at Charlie. Their broad shoulders and their flat chest. Their glittery make-up and the waistband of their underwear peaking out over the hem of their pants. The pants he was pulling off just moments ago before he—
They look so pretty. He doesn’t know why that’s important right now, but it is. They look like they belong here, at this club, in this alley, with him; an intruder and a fraud, he’s not supposed to be here with them, not like this.
It doesn’t make sense, Charlie said it was fine, they said this was fine, it wasn’t going to change anything.
He doesn’t understand why his heartbeat won’t slow, why his chest is still heaving, why both of Charlie’s hands are now on his shoulders, like they’re holding him up. He was supposed to be fine.
They were supposed to take it, whatever something that was inside him, that ugly ball of something that was choking him from the inside, lodging itself in his airway whenever he had a moment to himself, whenever he had a night alone in his empty house without his son and without his job to distract him and without— without Buck—
“What’s—“ he starts, but he realizes that he doesn’t have enough air to finish whatever he was going to say. So, he says nothing. He just heaves.
“Eddie,” Charlie says, firmly, like they’re repeating it. “You need to breathe.”
Eddie nods on instinct because they’re right. He needs to breathe. But it hurts, and his muscles won’t listen, so he clamps a hand around his throat and looks at Charlie with panic.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay, Eddie,” Charlie says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling it away from his throat. They place it against their own chest, lace their fingers together over their heart and squeeze. “Follow me, okay? I’m right here with you, man.”
And then they take a deep, slow breath, and Eddie follows it on instinct. He’s not good at it but it works, and it works a little better when they do it a second time, and a third, fourth, and Eddie doesn’t know how long they sit there but at some point the fog from his brain clears enough for him to think about Jell-O, and from there it doesn’t take long until he’s breathing along with Charlie without a single stutter.
He doesn’t dare to look at their face. He just pulls his hand from their chest and bites his lip to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. Charlie lets him.
He clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he says, because he thinks he needs to. Charlie came here for a good time, and now they’re sitting here watching him be bad at breathing.
But he hears Charlie huff, and he can’t help but look up.
Charlie is shaking their head with silent laughter. “Dude,” they say.
“What?”
“You make your friends say sorry when they have panic attacks?”
Eddie opens his mouth but firmly shuts it again when he realizes the point they’re trying to make. He almost rolls his eyes when they raise an eyebrow, as if to challenge him to argue.
“Okay, fine, I’ll shut up,” he mumbles, and the hand still left on his shoulder squeezes.
“No, don’t do that,” Charlie says with a well-meaning chuckle. “We’re gonna talk this through.”
Eddie winces. “I’d really rather not.”
Charlie looks at him for a long while before they pull their legs from under them and sit back against the brick wall. Then they pat the spot next to them. Eddie looks back and forth between Charlie and the semi-dry spot on the ground. Their determination doesn’t waver and Eddie sighs before scootching over and sitting down beside them.
He releases a groan as he stretches his legs out in front of him. How long was he kneeling on that asphalt?
“So,” Charlie starts, literally twiddling their thumbs in their lap. “We had sex, and you had a panic attack.”
Eddie groans again and buries his face in his hands, making sure to press his palms against his eyes with enough pressure that might make him forget that it happened at all.
“C’mon, dude,” they say, nudging his shoulder. “Are you sure it was all fine? Did I do something? I’d really rather know.” It’s soft, the way they speak to him now. Eddie has to force his lungs to keep the steady pace of deep breaths.
He releases air with a sigh. “It was great,” he says, eyes locking on the place their thighs brush up against each other. “You were great.”
“Okay…” Charlie nudges him again.
And Eddie doesn’t know what to say. Because what he wants to say, he can’t. He can’t say that it scares him how much he enjoyed Charlie’s body against his, their sounds that harmonized with the blood rushing in his ears, the way they felt against his tongue. He can’t say it scares him even more that he thinks he knows why.
“I’m just…” he trails off, allows himself to take another deep breath. Charlie just waits. “I’m going through something. A lot, maybe.” He sniffles because his eyes are wet, but he won’t let the tears fall. “You have no idea the kind of mess my life is right now.”
Beside him, Charlie nods slowly, lets the words linger in the air.
“And I just put a whole wrench in there, didn’t I?” They don’t say it like they’re sorry, and Eddie appreciates that. They say it like it’s a fact, and it almost is. Eddie is so close to just nodding along and agreeing that yes, Charlie just turned his whole world upside down, but he can’t.
He’s already shaking his head. “No.” He sniffles again, wipes a tired hand over his face before he turns to face them. “I think maybe you took it out.”
Charlie’s face scrunches up before their eyebrows lift. “Oh.”
Eddie smiles, but it doesn’t feel real. It’s not real. They don’t return it, and Eddie’s glad they see through it, weirdly. He’s vulnerable, he feels vulnerable, and they see it, and it doesn’t feel like drowning for once.
“I had kinda forgotten it was there at all, and then you just—“ Eddie shakes his head and huffs out a laugh, because it feels so silly to use a metaphor right now, but he doesn’t think he can say it with the right words either. It all culminates in him feeling pathetic. “Ripped it out, I guess. And now shit is going kinda fast.”
Charlie bops their head again, slowly, before they turn to stare at the dumpster in front of them, placed against the other wall of the alley. They release a sigh. “Fuck.”
Eddie laughs again, eyes still wet. “Yeah.”
They sit there in silence for a few moments. Eddie lets the coolness of the night air soothe his bones. It’s nice to feel cold. Gives him a reason for trembling.
“It’s been a long time coming kinda thing?” They ask it carefully.
He nods slowly, because he can’t say it.
It feels like an understatement. A long time coming. How long exactly? Since Shannon left? Since he knocked up his best friend and Chris was born? Since he turned sixteen or ten or three? It feels like he has waited his entire life to finally be in on a joke, and any second now Charlie would turn to him and say you just had to be there, dude, sorry.
But he just got here, and it feels like he’s been sprinting and now that he’s here, the joke isn’t even funny anymore, and the punchline is going to be him instead.
“Fuck, Eddie,” Charlie says, and the way they say his name feels like a curse too. Like when someone exhales on a Jesus Christ or Goddamn. There’s a pause. “And you just…” they trail off with a shake of the head. “Had a panic attack about it.” There’s something in their voice that they’re not saying. Eddie can tell they’re holding something back.
He swallows and looks ahead. “What are you thinking?”
He doesn’t say it meanly because it’s not meant to be.
Charlie leans their head back against the bricks. Eddie mirrors them.
“I don’t think it matters what I think, Eddie,” they say.
“Let’s pretend it does,” he whispers it and it still feels too loud.
Charlie tilts their head towards him, and he mirrors that too. Their shoulders touch and their noses align. Charlie has such blue eyes, Eddie thinks they’re beautiful.
“I think you think it’s too late,” Charlie says between them, and Eddie tries not to hold his breath, tries not to regret asking them to bare his soul for him. “I think you’re convinced you missed your window. To do things like this.” They gesture with a hand between them. “To dance at gay bars with your friends.” They’re sniffling now, too, and Eddie places a hand on their thigh. They grab it. “To be happy.”
There’s a drop of something wet that rolls over Eddie’s nose.
“I did.” His voice is made of air, and still it cracks.
Charlie shakes their head before he even finishes. “You didn’t, Eddie. You didn’t miss it.” They lace their fingers with his on their leg. “You could just be getting started,” they say with joy in their voice, and Eddie smiles, because this is ridiculous and he’s crying.
He looks down on Charlie’s hand where it rests, intertwined with his. He hadn’t noticed their nails were painted black until now. He thinks it looks good on them. He wonders if it would look good on him, too. Eddie doesn’t really want to paint his nails, not this version of him, but he can imagine a time where he thinks he might have wanted to. He thinks fifteen-year-old him would’ve liked to. So, he wants to try it for him.
“That’s terrifying,” he whispers.
“Terrifying and exciting can coexist,” Charlie says, like it’s easy, and maybe it can be.
“I want to be excited,” he admits, to Charlie, to the moon, to himself. “But I don’t even know if that emotion still exists in me.”
Charlie looks at him for a long moment. “You looked so happy talking about your job earlier.”
Eddie’s cheeks flush, and he doesn’t know why, but he avoids Charlie’s eyes anyway. “I guess.”
“There’s gotta be people in your life that make you feel excited.”
The answer comes to him like a heartbeat. “My son.”
Charlie’s eyebrows shoot up, and Eddie laughs. “You have a son?”
He nods, smiles, a real one this time. “Christopher. Almost 14.” Then he lets it slip. “He’s... in Texas right now.”
Charlie’s face turns somber, and they ask carefully, “Is that the mess you were talking about?”
“Most of it, yeah.” It’s the only thing Eddie offers. He loves to talk about Chris, always, but he can’t invite him into this conversation, this space, with them. It’s not fair to him. His absence haunts Eddie’s every waking moment inside that empty house. He can’t haunt this too. Eddie wouldn’t survive it.
Charlie looks at him, and whatever they find must be good enough for them because they don’t miss a beat. “Okay, well, what else?” Their tone switches to something more exciting. Like the two of them are just a pair of friends gossiping, or something close to it because they’re both still sniffling with red eyes. “Or who else?”
It’s the way they say it, their emphasis on who that makes their head move so a strand of hair falls into their face. A blond curl right next to their eye, their blue eyes that look silver in this light, but Eddie knows they’re blue. Because he knows this shade of forget-me-not like he knows Chris’ pale hazel and Shannon’s grayish green. He knows it because he dreams of it.
And Eddie feels it then. There’s someone else already haunting this conversation, it takes a second, and then it feels inevitable and impossible at the same time, because of course, but also holy fuck, and as soon as he thinks it, he knows he can’t say the name out loud because if he does, he might just break completely.
“My best friend,” he says instead, and it feels too small. Buck has always been so much more than that.
Charlie smirks a little, nods along. “That Buck guy? The hot one from your bee story?”
And Eddie can’t help the smile that spreads over his lips. It’s a reflex at this point. “Yeah.” His voice cracks when he says it.
Charlie’s smirk dimmers. They look at him, and Eddie can’t even bother hiding whatever is showing on his face. He’ll let them see it a thousand times over if it means no one else will know about it.
“Oh.”
Eddie nods because a priest once told him he should allow himself to feel joy, and even if it hurts like this, Buck will always be joy to him, in its purest form.
It feels so obvious now. Of course, Buck is joy. Love must be oozing from Eddie’s entire being whenever Buck looks at him. Eddie wonders if he’s the last one to know that.
“You said it was a long time coming, right?” Charlie asks, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” he answers with a sigh.
A smile, gentler than sunrise, takes over their face.
“Then I’m glad you’re here now.”
And somehow, it’s enough to break a wall somewhere in Eddie because he smiles, and then he laughs. He laughs with his chest, not loud or violent but soft and happy and wet. And it’s good because Charlie joins him this time, and then they’re both giggling, it feels silly and easy, and Charlie’s head lands on Eddie’s shoulder, and he closes his eyes, lets whatever wetness in them overflow and cover his skin once again. It’s fine. It’s soft. It’s something.
It gets interrupted.
The sound of a door opening violently makes them both turn their heads immediately. The exit from the bar is open, and light spills out in the narrow alley, along with the sound of chatter and music. A figure walks out and turns one way first, then the other, until he’s looking right at them.
It’s Buck.
Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat. Buck’s curls are wild on his head, and pure relief washes over his face as their eyes meet.
“Eddie, fuck,” he says on an exhale. He jogs over to them, and Eddie can’t look at Charlie because he can’t take his eyes off Buck. Buck, who shouldn’t be here, who should be in there dancing and making out with strangers and having fun. Buck, who Eddie is so happy to see.
Eddie is on his feet before he even realizes he’s moving. His face feels flushed as Buck looks him up and down, like he’s scanning for injuries, which is ridiculous and sweet and only a little condescending.
“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says, and Eddie suddenly feels bad. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he disappeared out here with Charlie, but clearly, it’s long enough that someone noticed he wasn’t at the bar anymore.
“Sorry, I uh…” And then he glances down at Charlie, who is still sitting on the ground, looking back and forth between them with an unreadable expression on their face. “I just needed some air.”
“You could’ve found me,” Buck says with a huff. “We could’ve left if you—”
“Hey, I know, Buck,” Eddie interrupts and settles a hand on his shoulder. “I’m good, I wasn’t gonna ruin your fun,” Buck rolls his eyes like he’s being ridiculous, which, rude. “I just needed some fresh air, Charlie was just showing me where I could get that.”
Buck’s brows are still furrowed, like he’s searching Eddie’s face for something before his eyes dart to Charlie for the first time.
“I promise he’s been in good hands,” Charlie offers as they stand up, and Eddie can tell they genuinely want to reassure Buck.
He doesn’t look convinced.
“You promise you’re good?” His voice is lower now, like he doesn’t want Charlie listening in, even though they’re standing right beside them now.
Eddie can’t help the soft smile that spreads on his lips. “I promise, Buck.”
And then Buck’s face finally relaxes, and Eddie can see the sigh leave his lungs by the way his shirt tightens momentarily over his chest. It’s spotted with sweat because Buck has been dancing, and it’s making it a little see-through in the moonlight. Eddie’s mouth feels dry.
“So…” Buck says as he turns to Charlie, and Eddie swears he sees annoyance run over Buck’s face for less than a second before it’s gone. “Charlie, I’m assuming.”
“Yes, hi,” they smile and extend a hand, which Buck is unusually slow to grab. “And you must be tall, hot and curly.”
Eddie instantly feels warm in the face, and he frantically shoots Charlie a look that he hopes communicates shut the fuck up. They just lift an eyebrow at him, and he has to hold back a sigh.
“What?” Buck says, half laughing and momentarily forgetting he’s supposed to be standoffish. Eddie is pointedly not looking at him.
“Sorry, Eddie’s words, not mine. He pointed you out to me when we were sitting at the bar,” Charlie says, unphased. “Your name is Buck, right?”
Buck still looks lost, but he’s smiling now. “That’s how he described me?” he asks, and Eddie wishes the ground would open up and swallow him, because he knows Buck will never let this go. “Tall, curly and—?” But then Buck cuts himself off with a shake of the head that leaves Eddie confused, before he snaps right back, this time without any hint of teasing in his voice. “I mean— yes, my name is Buck.”
Charlie gives Buck an obvious once-over before nodding approvingly. It’s just obnoxious enough for it to be funny, and Buck chuckles a laugh that Eddie knows means he’s nervous. “Well, nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Buck says, easily, without missing a beat. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
Charlie’s eyebrows rise the tiniest bit at this, and Eddie tries to decipher what that means, but he’s unsurprisingly unsuccessful. They catch his eye with a look, and Eddie physically feels his cheeks heat up as he turns back to Buck.
“Hey, nobody is taking care of me, okay?” Eddie says, even though that’s technically not true, but he’s going to try to save some of his dignity here. “We were just talking.”
“You’re a firefighter, too, right?” Charlie interrupts Eddie’s mediocre attempt at saving face.
Buck is clearly taken aback by their question, but takes it in stride. “Uh, yeah. We work together,” he says with a smile, because Buck always smiles when he talks about work.
Charlie grins, and the tension seems to break. “It was your idea with the bees, then,” they conclude, and Eddie wants to hug them because they didn’t have to do this. They could’ve left the second Buck came out of the bar — hell, the second Eddie had a panic attack — they could’ve said that they really came out here to fuck against the wall, that Eddie begged to suck their dick, that he had a whole breakdown because of it before he could even come down from his orgasm. But they didn’t. Instead, they’re making conversation, maybe because they know Eddie needs it or maybe it’s because they genuinely want to. Either way, he’s grateful.
Buck’s face evolves from smile to chuckle, and any malice Eddie sensed in him before is long gone.
“Oh, he told you about that, did he?” Buck says, and it’s with a smirk that Eddie recognizes as trouble and fun and teasing, and there’s warmth spreading over his chest, down to his bones. “Did he tell you that his uniform smelled like Dior for days, too?”
Charlie laughs, and Eddie plays along and groans, which makes Buck laugh, and that’s the important part.
“I bet that wasn’t too bad,” Charlie says, sending Eddie another look that he pretends not to notice.
Buck is looking at him, too. “Not bad at all,” he says after a beat, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s imagining the flirtation in his voice, and it makes him almost choke on nothing, so he clears his throat to avoid Buck’s eyes on him.
“Better than the sweat, I imagine,” Charlie adds, and they’re smirking like they know what they’re doing and that they’re going to keep doing it. Eddie doesn’t know where to look, so he looks at the space between Buck and Charlie.
There are long pauses between them, and Eddie has a suspicion that they’re somehow having a silent conversation after just minutes of knowing each other, which can’t mean anything good.
“I don’t know,” Buck shrugs, casually. “Sweat can be pretty good, too.”
And that makes Eddie look up. Buck is already looking at him.
“True that, man,” Charlie adds, but Eddie can’t look away from Buck, and he doesn’t, not until a hand touches his elbow. “Give me your phone,” Charlie says and holds up their hand.
Eddie unlocks it with his thumb and hands it over without a second thought. Charlie grabs it and fiddles around with it for a few moments before placing it back in Eddie’s back pocket, ignoring his upturned palm ready to take it. Their hand lingers just enough for Eddie to shiver.
“I’m gonna head back inside,” they say, and they’re smirking, but it’s soft and private, and Eddie kind of wants to hug them. “My number is in there if you ever wanna talk about that wrench.”
Eddie holds their gaze, prays that they see his gratitude, see that he doesn’t have the words to articulate what they’ve done for him tonight, but knows that he’ll find a way to do it later.
“Thanks.” It’s all he can say, but it seems to be enough because Charlie just beams at him, squeezes his arm and walks back to the door.
And then Buck and Eddie are left to stare at each other. Buck looks like he has questions, and Eddie sees the moment he decides to ask one of them, but before he gets the chance—
“Eddie!” He turns his head and sees Charlie standing in the open doorway leading back into the bar. Their face is lit up with purple lights and happiness. “I think there’s other people who are gonna be very glad you finally got here, too. That’s pretty exciting, if you ask me.” And then they disappear into the loud music, smoke and chatter, closing the door behind them in an echo.
Eddie feels his heart in his throat.
“Was that an inside thing or...?” Buck asks as they’re both looking at where Charlie just stood.
Eddie swallows. “Yeah, you can say that.” He turns to Buck, takes him in, the way his birthmark seems darker in the moonlight. “I’ll fill you in later, okay?” And he thinks he means it, and then Buck smiles at him, genuine and open, and he knows he means it.
“Alright,” Buck nods, and then nudges Eddie with his shoulder to get him to start walking. He follows instantly. “Let’s call an Uber and get out of here, it’s fucking cold.”
Eddie huffs out a laugh, because he didn’t even realize but it is cold, and Buck is just wearing a t-shirt that’s a little wet with cooling sweat and, yeah, that can’t be comfortable. “Yeah, okay. We can crash at my place,” he says, and Buck pauses next to him.
“You sure?” he asks, and Eddie makes a face.
“Of course, I’m sure,” he says, because he doesn’t think there was ever a time when he didn’t want Buck in his home. “You sleep over every other day, Buck. Why would I care now?”
Buck shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, but ultimately starts walking again. “It just seemed like maybe you needed peace and quiet after tonight.”
And Eddie goes a little loopy with the way Buck cares about him, but he’s also being ridiculous, because Buck still doesn’t get that peace and quiet can include him.
“Just call the Uber, Buck,” Eddie says, elbows Buck a little to know he’s messing with him. “You’re an idiot, and I expect pancakes tomorrow.”
It works because Buck lets out a groan but pulls out his phone to get them a ride anyway. “So fucking demanding.”
Eddie grins. “Think of it as taxes.”
They’re by the street now, standing underneath a lamp post. It’s quiet. It’s nice.
“You don’t have to tell me, you know,” Buck says, and it’s almost a whisper. Eddie makes a questioning sound. “What you and Charlie were talking about. I can take a hint and leave it alone.”
And the worst and best part of that is that Eddie knows he means it. Buck would leave it alone the moment Eddie told him to. He doesn’t know that he deserves to know, that he can ask, that he has that right, that Eddie is only a semi-functioning human being because Buck pries and pulls and pushes when Eddie needs it the most. It hurts that Buck doesn’t seem to trust his own ability to know Eddie’s boundaries, even though Eddie barely knows where they are himself, he just knows that Buck has special access. He has always had special access.
Eddie lets himself inch closer until their shoulders brush. He looks up at the moon, follows its rays to Buck’s face. “I want to tell you,” he says, and he’s sure now. He’ll tell Buck everything. There’s something terrifying building in his stomach at the thought, but it doesn’t erase the way his chest expands with something he thinks might be joy.
He might be a mess, but he’ll do it.
Buck doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and Eddie knows it’s to see if Eddie is agreeing to something he doesn’t want to do. Eddie just lets him see.
“Alright, then,” Buck says, finally, and Eddie marvels over the simple fact that he’s known. “Tell me over pancakes tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he says, because the air is cold and his ass is kind of numb after sitting on asphalt for God knows how long, but there’s gentleness in Buck’s voice and Buck’s eyes and Eddie is still a mess, but at least he knows that Buck will be the softest place to land. “Yeah, that sounds perfect.”