love you better with my heart on the window

11K words | explicit misunderstandings | coming out | accidental outing | getting together | first kiss | first time

feel what it's like to be new [on AO3]

Buck isn't the first person he tells. That's Chris, and he stands by that one. He's practicing honesty with his kid. It doesn't come easy to him, but he tries. Buck would understand. Buck will understand, when Eddie tells him, which he will.

Chris is the first living person he tells. Technically, actually, the first person he tells is Shannon.

The cemetery she's buried in is a nice place. Full of trees, green grass, well-maintained. He tries to come here with Chris at least once a month, and so far, at least, Chris hasn't balked, hasn't complained about spending a few hours eating a picnic lunch or dinner or takeout picked up on the way and talking to a woman who'll never talk back again.

This time, Eddie comes alone. He brings a batch of coyotas wrapped in paper—Shannon's favorite of the sweets his abuela used to send them. She always liked Shannon better than his parents did, part of the ongoing battle of wills between her and his mom. He'll stop by her grave today, too, kiss his fingers to the cold stone and imagine that she knows he's here. For now, he sits cross-legged in the grass, in the bright warm hum of a summer morning, facing his wife's headstone.

Ex-wife, he imagines her saying to him, dry and laughing. They never did get to have that ending, the one they both survived.

buddie | incubus!buck | post-9x13 mother's boy | bottom eddie week | 10k | explicit

“Bed?” Buck asks. His jaw cracks on a yawn. 

“King,” the woman says. “As requested.”

Eddie tries to steer Buck away even as he's asking, “One?”

“Let's go,” Eddie says. 

“The guy on the phone asked for one.”

It's just like Eddie's luck to get the same person on shift. “Yeah, that's right,” he says. 

If she responds, he doesn't hear it, because he's successfully herded Buck back outside.

“Eddie,” Buck says, with an undercurrent in his tone Eddie doesn't like at all. 

Ignoring Buck is always hard, and even more difficult when Buck's steps are dragging, his body exhausted and at the brink of giving up. But Eddie manages it. He gets Buck back in the car and leans over him to buckle him in. Buck winces at the feeling of the belt on his skin. Eddie is glad it's too dark for Buck to see his face. He knows even a glimpse would give too much away. 

Eddie shuts the door before Buck can ask anything else. He rounds the car to his own seat, worrying. 

Because while he might be able to ignore Buck's questions about the singular bed, he can't forget that he's got lube and condoms tucked away in the worse-for-wear duffle the police finally gave him back moments before they drove off. Eddie is, at best, hours away from asking Buck to fuck him. More likely, less than half an hour.

A relatively messy study/fanart for project hail mary, the last month has really awakened my inner space loving child again

a visitor on the biodome!!