I Still Bleed From Your Last Kiss

Eddie’s hands find his waist, tug him square against his chest. Eddie’s eyes slip closed at the impact, the reverberation sliding down Eddie’s spine like the click of a key in a lock. He captures Buck’s mouth with his, raising one hand to cradle the base of Buck’s skull.

Buck jolts against him, muscles tense where Eddie squeezes at his side, but it only lasts a moment before he’s angling his head to match Eddie, tongue sliding at the seam of Eddie’s lips. 

Eddie opens his mouth to allow Buck in, backing him firmly into the counter. Buck tastes like coffee, and there’s a few grains of sugar on his lips that Eddie licks off. He absently wonders if Buck had brought pastries, and apparently that’s all it takes for him to remember himself, remember that he’s only partially dressed and definitely reeks of hangover, can practically smell the alcohol oozing through his sweat glands. He pulls back, presses a chaste kiss to the side of Buck’s mouth. His hand drops from the back of Buck’s neck and reaches blindly for the mug. Buck doesn’t make a noise as he passes it over, silently allowing Eddie to take one sip, then another. 

“Mm,” he says, half a grunt, “is that a new creamer?” 

Buck nods, slowly. “Yeah,” he breathes. Eddie watches the word leave his pink lips. 

He wants to go lay back down, with Buck this time. With Buck at his side, he’ll definitely be able to get back to sleep. But first—“Need to shower,” he yawns, eyes not leaving Buck’s mouth. 

Buck doesn’t say anything, just watches Eddie leave the kitchen. 

He turns the shower up as hot as he can stand, hissing at first at the sharp sting. Once he’s used to it, he’s sure the heat will soothe the pounding in his head.

The one sip of caffeine he’d gotten does absolutely nothing for his energy level as he lazily scrubs the sweat from his skin. He wishes he’d gotten more than just a taste, had been able to drink his fill. 

Halfway through his shower he has to mentally add shampoo to his grocery list as he chucks his empty bottle into the trash and reaches for Buck’s. It’s sandalwood, he thinks, or maybe cedar. Either way, it smells like Buck, smells like that warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest as he lathers it in.

He remembers how the coffee had tasted on Buck’s tongue. 

Buck’s tongue.

Buck’s tongue.

Eddie’s eyes snap open. It’s just for a moment, long enough for him to remember that he’s rinsing shampoo from his hair, then they’re scrunched back closed. 

He kissed Buck. 

Not just kissed, either, fully initiated a spontaneous makeout session in his kitchen. One which Buck had definitely participated in, and undeniably with equal hunger. His dick, ever a traitor, not to mention already half-hard, twitches at the memory. He’s unsure he’ll be able to control himself if he’s thinking with his dick when he gets out of the shower, and makes the executive decision that he can worry about their upcoming conversation in a few minutes. After he deals with this.

And he usually does in the shower, anyway, it’s the most convenient place; door locked behind him guaranteeing privacy, water loud against the curtain blocking any small noises he might let out. So it’s not really a big deal when he puts a hand on himself and…well. It’s not like he’s trying to think of kissing Buck, but he certainly doesn’t try not to think about it. 

He’s unsure he’s ever gotten off so quickly before. 

It's the way Buck had licked his lips when Eddie pulled away that does it for him, just a flash between his plush lips. The thought of that tongue in other places, or even just in Eddie’s mouth again is so overwhelming that Eddie nearly blacks out, bracing himself against the shower wall. He blinks stars from his vision when he’s finished, barely able to get the energy to give himself another quick rinse to rid himself of any evidence. 

He throws on a similar outfit to Buck’s when he stops back in his bedroom, basketball shorts and a tank top. Comfortable enough to lounge on the couch with Buck in, or to slink back under the covers in if the next five minutes or so do not go favorably. 

Maybe, maybe he can get under the covers with Buck, but the comfortable clothing choices wouldn’t have much to do with preparing for that. 

Buck’s still in the kitchen when he gets back. 

Eddie leans against the doorway, realizing he doesn’t know how he’d intended to start this. Buck is still backed against the counter, hands braced on either side of his hips like he’s holding the counter for dear life. He tracks Eddie with his eyes, gaze flicking over him.

“Hey,” Eddie finally settles on. 

Buck’s eyes snap to his before he can regret breaking the silence. “Eddie,” he breathes, “what—” He cuts himself off, shakes his head. “What was that.”

It sounds like it should be a question. There’s no way it is though, considering they were both there for it. They both know what that was, but Eddie doesn’t say that. What he does say is, “you kissed back.”

Seemingly not the answer Buck had expected, if the way he goes a little slack-jawed is any indication. Eddie thinks he should be scared, but deep down, buried in the space between his lungs and heart, there is a part of him that became whole when he met Buck, and it knows that there is only one way this can end. He and Buck, best friends through everything, even through their hiccups over the years. There’s no one else in the world he’d rather kiss for the rest of his life. 

Eddie reaches out, gesture so familiar he could find the hollow of Buck’s collarbone in his sleep, and pulls him in by the shoulder. He keeps his hand there for a long moment, debating whether to slide his hand up to cradle Buck’s jaw. 

Buck’s brows furrow. Eddie realizes he hasn’t said anything in a while. Neither has Buck, but Buck had been the one blindsided here, so Eddie has mercy on him.

“Buck,” he starts, chasing Buck’s gaze down until those blue eyes hold Eddie’s own. “I’ll never love anyone else the way I love you,” he says, and there’s only raw honesty in his voice. It’s been true for a long time, the way Eddie’d silently separated the feelings he had for his best friend into their own box, entirely different to the way he’d felt about every other person in his life, staggering in their intensity.

Buck’s mouth twists, and Eddie realizes they’re both on the verge of tears. He doesn’t want Buck to cry, not right now. He’s unsure he’ll be able to stop himself.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here, Buck,” he says, voice a little wobbly. His hand, with a mind of its own, finally slides up. He cups Buck’s cheek, runs his thumb along Buck’s cheekbone, prepared to catch the tear beading at the corner of his eye.

Buck lets out a noise that’s half-laugh, half-sob and pulls Eddie in for a hug, crushing them together.

“I love you,” he says into Eddie’s shoulder. “Fuck, Eddie, I love you.” He squeezes tight, so tight that Eddie wonders if Buck has his own deep down part of himself tucked away in his thoracic cavity. It would make sense, the way they’ve always fit together like a matched pair, destined from the start for each other, if there was some sort of magnetic force tethering the two of them together.

Suddenly the shirts and skin and muscles and ribs and viscera seem far too many layers of separation between them, and Eddie feels lightheaded with how badly he wants to crawl inside Buck’s skin and live there. 

Or vice versa. He’s really not picky. 

All he cares about is letting those two long lost halves of one whole meet, allow their hearts to beat in conjunction and spend the rest of eternity together. 

Buck pulls back from the hug, not far, since he’s still mostly-pinned against the counter, just enough to meet Eddie’s mouth in a bruising kiss. 

Buck only vaguely tastes like coffee now, but it’s not the point.

The point is that early this morning, Buck had let himself in with his key, instead of knocking, like this was his own house. He’d bought a new creamer to keep in Eddie’s fridge and brewed coffee with the old-fashioned coffee maker Eddie stubbornly kept around, maybe even showered in Eddie’s bathroom with the shampoo Eddie’d just used himself. 

Before Eddie’d moved back into the South Bedford house, and therefore before Buck had left it, he would have woken up to the sound of the shower running unexpectedly. Chris wasn’t the type to shower this early, and besides, he’d stayed up just as late as Eddie last night playing video games with his friends. It would’ve been enough stray from the routine sounds of the house waking up that it should’ve put Eddie on alert. 

But it’s Buck. Buck, who moved out months ago, but has been staying over on the couch multiple nights a week. Buck, who always showers in the morning, no matter how early he gets up. Buck, who always showers in the morning, no matter how early he gets up. And Buck, who perfectly fills the space in Eddie’s life that he’s always felt was missing. All he ever had to do was look.

He probably put the water and ibuprofen on Eddie’s nightstand, too, now that Eddie’s considering it.

Again, Eddie should’ve woken when Buck eased his bedroom door open, should’ve blinked his eyes open to see Buck smile at him from the side of the bed as he set the hangover cures down.

It’s hard to put a name to the realization that settles over Eddie with that thought. It’s like he’s gained a new layer of skin, this knowledge that Buck has slotted so perfectly into Eddie’s life that their DNA may as well be woven together. 

Of course Eddie wasn’t jarred awake when Buck opened the front door, or turned on the shower, or walked over the creaky spot in the hallway, or any other thing he’d done this morning. Buck is as much a moving part of Eddie as Eddie himself.. 

“Move back in,” Eddie breathes, panting the words into Buck’s mouth, “forever this time.”

Buck laughs, his eyes still teary. “Forever, huh?”

Eddie uses both hands to ruck up Buck’s shirt, palms skidding up over soft skin to reach Buck’s pecs. “Yes,” he answers, squeezing, “I never want to be without you again.”

Buck makes a frankly obscene whimpering noise against Eddie’s mouth and he finds himself continuing, completely unbidden; “really, Buck, forever.” He tries to convey as much of his desperation as possible in his next kiss, fingernails digging into Buck’s supple flesh. He hopes Buck can hear everything unsaid in it—hopes Buck can hear the I’m going to marry you and we’re going to live the rest of our lives intertwined explicit in the twist of Eddie’s tongue.

Then Buck is biting at his lip and Eddie is entirely gone.