see how it shines

rated e | 9k | buddie | tipsy bar blowjobs, crop top eddie

For what it's worth, Buck's blaming May for this. Completely and whole-heartedly. It's her fault for throwing her end-of-the-semester party at the country western bar that opened a few months ago that she's been dying to go to, and it's her fault that she practically begged everyone to dress in theme. It's her fault that Buck outed himself (again) and his fruitless, long-term, definitely unrequited crush on Eddie at Bachelor-turned-Love Island night last week, and it's especially her fault that Buck's learning—for the first time—what his best friend looks like in... Whatever. … Okay, so maybe none of that is actually her fault. Maybe it's mostly Buck's fault. Maybe he felt safe with May, talking about this bottle of feelings that's been shaken so many times he's surprised it hasn't exploded already. Maybe she loves him in spite of it. Maybe because of it. And hey, maybe Eddie's just being a good friend, showing up to support May. In his boots and— Buck sighs, long and deep, determinedly looking back at the bar and the beers on tap. The round, oblong, and frankly far-too-phallic-for-Buck's-fragile-mental-state beer pulls stare back at him. He can feel Eddie approach from behind him, like he's got on a pair of jangly spurs that only Buck can hear, but it's more likely to be because Eddie'd have to pass the bar to get to the table where May is cheering Eddie! Eddieeeeeeeeeeeee! really, really loudly. He's pretty sure the spurs aren't real, but the distinct clack of cowboy boots are, getting louder as Eddie gets closer, and Buck, for reasons he will not be disclosing, is pressing his fingertips into the bar top with hydrolic intensity. In fact, as Eddie slides up next to him, Buck's pretty sure he can hear the wood of the bar crack beneath his hands. "Hey," Eddie says, knocking his hip into Buck's, setting off little rockets in his blood, "grab me something?" Buck mumbles, "Sure thing," before Eddie knocks his hip again and moves away. By the time the spurs stop jingling, Buck takes a glance down at the bar top. No holes or cracks in sight. How about that?