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tawaifeddiediaz · 2 years

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94 for the kiss prompts? love you <3

love you most <3 for you, i made this fluff — otherwise i totally had angst on speed dial.

94. untying your lover’s tie, using it to pull your lover into a kiss

[devotion (defined by you) - AO3 Link]

Word Count: 3075 words

Buck’s making a cup of tea when the sound of the lock reverberates into the apartment.

In the silence, the sound echoes with the footsteps of the man behind the door, and without turning to face him, Buck smiles.

“How was it?”

A light string of laughter, pulled from him with the electricity that sparks between them, and then the shuffle of Eddie’s socked feet against the floor. Buck’s own feet are bare, pressing against cold tile that feels like it warms as Eddie gets closer.

“Boring,” he says, leaning back against the counter next to where Buck’s pouring hot water into his mug.

Without being prompted, he reaches for another mug, drops Eddie’s favorite tea bag into it and covers it with hot water. “Yeah?”

In his suit, Eddie cuts a vision against Buck’s countertop, elbows perched behind him and legs crossed at the ankle as he reclines back. The panels of his suit jacket flutter uselessly at his sides, and the deep maroon shirt stretches across his chest until Buck thinks the buttons will pop clean off.

“Never going to one of those things again,” Eddie says, bringing one hand up to loosen his tie. “At least, not without you to keep me company.”

Buck’s eyes linger on the movement before he forces himself to look away from his partner’s strong, tan fingers grasping the knot of the black tie, tugging it loose to hang on his chest while he undoes the top two buttons.

There’s something intimate to that moment, to watch Eddie shed the layers of who he’d just been outside to who he is in a mimic of his home, with his son snoring lightly in the background. The yearning that roots in Buck’s chest only delves deeper at the notion, a stray drop rippling across the waves of an ocean.

Eddie folds his suit jacket carefully to place over the far end of the breakfast bar, and this time, Buck doesn’t look away when he starts rolling the cuffs of his shirt up. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him as he watches the menial task be done in Eddie’s deft way, but Buck simply lets himself look back, knowing that he’s felt the burn of Eddie’s gaze on the small sliver of skin exposed by his T-shirt from the moment he entered.

He isn’t the only one looking, and that in itself lights the flame in his chest.

“You insisted on it,” he smiles instead, pressing the warm mug into Eddie’s hand. “Why would I go with you when I can hang out with my little buddy at home?”

He’s not as dressed up — truth be told, Buck had tossed on an old pair of pajamas right before Eddie dropped Christopher off, and he’s still clad in them. An old tattered T-shirt Eddie left here last year and a pair of sweatpants held up precariously by a hasty knot in the drawstring are all he has to show for himself.

Eddie arches a brow as he straightens. “No, your little buddy insisted I attend because it was a fundraiser for an animal charity. Where is he, by the way?”

“Knocked out,” Buck replies, pressing his knee into the cabinet right next to Eddie’s. He knows what Eddie’s next words are going to be.

“Miracle worker,” Eddie says — fondly, predictably. An epithet that has followed Buck for years.

Buck resists the urge to engrave the two words into the wall next to his house, the ones Eddie gives him without fail at the end of each time Buck babysits, as if he’s the one working miracles to raise this awesome kid.

He doesn’t say any of it, electing to let the calm of the evening stretch over them in answer instead as he watches Eddie turn back around from checking on his son from afar.

There’s room in the vast space. Buck knows there is. Eddie knows there is. There’s room on the counter itself for them to shift even inches apart so they’re not pressed together hip to toe.

Despite it, they stay pressed together like this with their cups of tea, quietly sharing the moment as the city settles down around them.

Buck studies his best friend over the rim of his mug, studies the ghost of a smile that seems to live on Eddie’s face whenever he’s here. He studies the little triangle of skin that spans from the hollow of his throat to the third button of his shirt, studies the way he’s now perched on one elbow facing Buck while the other holds the mug, studies the ease of his shoulders as he relaxes against the granite.

He studies him like a well-loved book, with his fingertips mapped all over pages, annotations in the margins, folds in the pages with scenes he’s clutched too hard to read over and over. He studies him like the lines of a well-loved poem, reading between them to find the essence of what he’s made of, to find all the things that remain unsaid between them.

And above all, he feels his definition of devotion shift to match the man in front of him, especially when that same man turns to smile at him with the power of a thousand suns.

“You know,” Eddie starts delicately, amusement lightening his features as his head tips to look Buck in the eye. It’s a lazy movement, and reminds Buck of the slow confidence of a man who knows what he wants, of a man who knows he’ll get it. “I got asked where my husband is today.”

Buck can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, only remembering last minute to stifle the sound so Christopher doesn’t wake up. “Yeah? Something you want to tell me, Eddie?”

Eddie huffs out a laugh as he straightens, turning to lean against his counter with both hands on the mug this time, head turned towards Buck as he mock-exaggerates his retelling. “Don’t tell anyone, but I heard from Deborah that my husband is, and I quote, ‘the strapping young hunky blond with guns for days that makes the most divine red velvet cupcakes, the one he refuses to share the recipe for.’”

Parent gossip is the best gossip, in Eddie’s eyes. Buck knows this because his best friend pounces on every little bit he can get his hands on.

But gossip about himself amuses Eddie to no end, and Buck can always see the mirth sparkling in his eyes as he recalls the various things the parents and teachers have said about them. Hearing all the wild rumors about what Buck and Eddie must get up to in their spare time is Eddie’s favorite pastime.

It had taken Buck many, many tries to perfect that red velvet cupcake recipe. He refuses to share it.

“Nothing like a middle-aged mom to boost your ego,” Buck says, clinking his cup with Eddie’s in a mimic of toasting cheers. “That was a lot of adjectives, though. She could’ve streamlined it. Made it a little simpler.”

“Really?” Eddie feigns, eyes lit up with the same playful mischief Buck sees in Christopher all the time — the same one that makes Chris look so much like his father it takes Buck’s breath away. “I thought she could’ve used a lot more. My husband is worth at least three more. At least.”

“You’re a menace,” Buck laughs, sounding far too affectionate to his own ears for the words to hold any weight. “Did you at least raise money for the cause you went there for? Or did you just get more dirt on us?”

Eddie nods. “The dirt is the best, and only fun part of these things. But yeah, definitely. The crowd was pretty rich, with deeper pockets than I thought. Perks of a private school, I guess,” he says. “Are there any red velvet cupcakes, by the way? I want some now.”

“Should be one in the fridge.”

Eddie shifts away to set his mug down, leaving Buck feeling colder with the loss of warmth on his side than with the chill of the fridge. It feels like a pipe dream of sorts, to see Eddie Diaz standing in the middle of his kitchen in a suit rummaging through his fridge, like he comes home like this all the time.

Buck thinks that maybe he does.

It had been easier in the beginning, for both of them to play into the rumors and just let the school — and the gaggle of parents waiting to catch sight of the hot single dad outside pickup — believe that Christopher Diaz has two dads, both of them firefighters to boot.

It had been a good system, but Buck hadn’t expected the rush of jealousy that had flooded him the first time he went with Eddie to drop Chris off.

One of the single parents who couldn’t seem to take no for an answer had made her way over, flipping her hair and touching Eddie’s arm like she had the right to touch him.

The roar in Buck’s ears at the sight had him climbing out of the truck before he’d known what he was doing. Like the Neanderthal he felt like, he had casually wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist to tug him away as if that was a thing they did every day instead of something born out of the green monster stomping on Buck’s chest.

It had been a little awkward for a minute for the mom who was relentlessly trying to pursue him, but Buck had stood his ground and Eddie had leaned into it. She’d scurried away without a second glance after that.

No one else dares approach Eddie anymore.

In Buck’s eyes, that’s a win.

They play into it, because it gets people off their backs, but at times, they have fun with it, too. Eddie will fling an arm around his shoulders and proudly call him his husband during one of the parent-teacher meetings, and Christopher will happily tug him over to all his friends to introduce him as “his Buck” and Buck’s left watching as his definition of home morphs into the outlines of two people.

It may have started as an inside joke shared between them, relegated to the bounds of Christopher’s school, but it’s rapidly turning into something that’s real, something that’s theirs to claim.

Eddie breaks apart half of the cupcake, passing the shared dessert over to him as he takes his spot again, this time perched on top of the counter. Like this, he looks ruffled, vulnerable — like the universe has never touched him, like Buck’s never tasted his blood, like the streets of this city aren’t soaked in it.

For a long moment, it’s easy to pretend that they’re any other people. Just Buck and Eddie at their core, made up of — yet not defined by — all the other roles that surround them outside this moment. Buck isn’t someone’s brother, uncle, friend, firefighter. Eddie isn’t someone’s father, brother, uncle, friend, firefighter.

Here, Buck is Eddie’s and Eddie is Buck’s.

It’s as good of a moment as any, when Buck decides to cross the near invisible line in the sand.

Buck can’t bring himself to care about the crumbs falling to the ground as he watches Eddie lick the frosting off his fingers. He swallows his bite of cake, washes it down with his tea and steps forward between Eddie’s knees, placing his hands on either side of him against the cool granite.

“Hi,” Eddie smiles, eyes crinkling merrily at the corners as he sets his own mug down. It’s that same confidence again — the gleam in his eye that tells Buck that Eddie’s got him right where he wants him.

Jokes on him, because Buck has been standing right here for months, years.

“Hi,” Buck says, smiling when Eddie’s knees part to make room for him. His thighs bracket Buck’s waist and drag him in closer, and with bone-rattling certainty, Buck knows that they’re finally going to cement what’s been in stone for years.

Eddie’s face doesn’t so much as twitch at their proximity, the lines of his eyes and mouth growing unbearably softer as if to say there you are.

Slowly, he lifts a hand to the loosened tie, feeling the smooth fabric catch and slip on the rough calluses of his fingers as it pulls free. Eddie doesn’t balk at his action, only leans forward as the movement tugs him forward. It’s not until the two ends of the tie are hanging loosely around his neck, still pinned by collar, that Eddie settles his hands on top of Buck’s where they rest on his thighs.

He’s working up the nerve to say something, Buck observes, staying quiet as Eddie’s thumbs work absent circles into the back of his hands. There’s something between the lines of that action too, where Eddie seeks the quiet comfort of Buck’s presence as he works through the buzz in his head.

“We’re doing this, right?” he settles on finally, the first wrinkle of fear creasing his brow.

Buck understands that fear— the same fear pounds through his veins even though he was the first to move. There’s a lot to lose by putting his bleeding heart on the line, but Eddie’s done it since there’s nobody in this world I trust with my son more than you and this is Buck, my partner and a million times in between and after.

The least Buck can do, is show Eddie that he’s been standing right there with him, for all this time and beyond it.

“Haven’t we been doing it?” Buck asks quietly.

His gaze moves past Eddie’s shoulder towards where Christopher’s bundled into thick blankets, sleeping peacefully on the air mattress along the far wall.

Eddie’s hands drift up his arms to link behind his neck instead, the shadows disappearing from his gaze as he grins. “Yeah, I guess we have.”

Buck moves to grip the center of Eddie’s tie, using the hold to drag his best friend closer.

There’s a freckle, right under Eddie’s left eye. Buck’s gaze drifts back to it time and time again as he studies the open affection on Eddie’s face, the uplifted curve of his full lips as he smiles. There’s not a stitch of concern on his face for what they’re about to do, his confidence a tangible presence between them that finally gives Buck the courage to move.

He presses a soft kiss to the mark that somehow only accentuates the planes of his face, and feels Eddie’s eyelashes brush his skin as his eyes shutter closed.

A startled sigh leaves him, like he hadn’t expected Buck to do something so intimate, like he hadn’t expected to be treated like someone to be cherished, but Buck can feel Eddie’s cheeks bunch as the smile grows, and feels his own heart flip in response.

They stay together like that for a long moment, drawn out with the history that stretches between them — the map that finally led them here, to each other.

“Buck,” Eddie whispers.

The tie is still clenched tight in his hands, and Buck uses the leverage to finally drag his best friend into the last first kiss of their lives.

There are sparks skittering across his skin and butterflies making a home in his stomach but above all, Buck feels his universe right itself to revolve around this moment right there.

Eddie kisses like he does everything else — with an unparalleled precision. His hands land on Buck’s waist, and it’s easy as anything to keep moving with each other.

Buck licks the taste of chocolate and affection from Eddie’s mouth and Eddie chases the taste of sugar and love from his. He lets the tie go, his fingers finding purchase on the collar before drifting into the short cropped hair on the sides of Eddie’s head.

It takes nothing for him to card his fingers through the soft strands at the back of Eddie’s head, trying to get as close as possible, short of everything but crawling under his partner’s skin. Eddie presses just as close, his palms sliding up the old T-shirt to cup Buck’s neck and deepen the kiss.

It feels like forever and always rolled into a single kiss, and Buck can’t stop his lips from curling up until he’s smiling too hard for them to properly kiss. Eddie matches him for it, placing a single, soft kiss against Buck’s birthmark before tilting their foreheads together.

“Hi,” Eddie says again, laughter evident in his voice.

Buck feels the joyful sound wrap around him, feels the mirth in Eddie’s voice like an old sweater, cozy and comforting and home .

“Hi, Eddie,” Buck returns, pulling back so he can look him in the eye. Eddie leans in to kiss him one more time before his hands drop down to where Buck’s shirt has ridden up, a thumbnail scraping across the sensitive skin of his waist.

There’s never been any escaping what Eddie means to him, but feeling what he means to Eddie is a whole other ball game. There’s a reverence in every way Eddie touches him, a worship to the way his hands splay across his skin without expectation for any more than what Buck’s giving.

It’s never felt like that before — like all Eddie wants to do is stay in the circle of Buck’s arms without moving. Buck’s never felt this settled before.

He should want to hesitate. He should want to wait to put those three words out there for Eddie, knowing that what he’s putting on the line isn’t something he can ever afford to lose.

But then, Buck ghosts his lips across Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie hums a happy sound from his throat — content under Buck’s ministrations — and suddenly, there’s no choice left to be made.

The words leave his mouth in a breathless whisper, only a fraction of the ardent devotion Eddie shows him because the rest is tattooed over Buck’s soul in varying shades of every color of the sky.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t know what to expect when he puts the words out there, but Eddie pulls him closer, lips landing somewhere near his temple as they embrace. Buck relaxes into his hold, loosely wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and tucks his face into his partner’s neck.

When the answer comes, it’s with no hesitation at all.

“I love you, too.”

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