Cy Twombly, The Fire that Consumes All before It, 1978. 

how the fuck did we get here? jade, you never left.

'You want?' says Eddie, gesturing to the last taco on the platter between them.

Buck shakes his head and Eddie reaches, taking a bite, his head bent to it. Sauce drips out the other end, red and oily, onto his plate and onto his hands and he sucks it off each finger, dark eyes fixed on Buck as he licks his lips. Buck doesn't bother to hide how obviously he's watching, even Eddie eating does it for him it seems, and Eddie bites into his taco again, grinning around stuffed cheeks.

'I see you looking, Buckley,' he says as he swallows and his foot connects with Buck's under the table, the hard press of leather against Buck's sneaker.

'I'm allowed to look aren't I?'

Eddie blinks at him slow, nods, 'be disappointed if you didn't. I made an effort tonight.'

Buck looks away, blushing. It's one thing when they're at home, in the privacy of Eddie's bedroom, it's another thing entirely for Eddie to be flirting with him so shamelessly in public. Buck isn't one to back down, though, to not give as good as he gets, letting his eyes trail appreciatively over Eddie's face and his shoulders, lower, tongue caught between his teeth.

'You look good.'

'So do you,' says Eddie, his gaze drifting more purposefully over Buck's chest, the undone buttons of his shirt leaving little to the imagination.

'My eyes are up here you know.'

Buck squares his shoulders, fabric pulling over his pecs but Eddie doesn't hurry to bring his focus back to Buck's face and it makes Buck go hot in a new way, desire rolling through him, pinned in place by Eddie's regard.

'Don't I know it,' Eddie smiles, pauses, 'we did this in the wrong order, I guess.'

'What?' says Buck, confused, ‘dinner?’

It’s almost like — like Buck’s holding a possible thing in his hands, fragile and fledgling, born too early. It’s not the first time he’s felt this way, with Eddie. It’s happened before, mostly in kitchens.

It’s not like it hurts any less.