Archive of Our Own

“Look—”

“Not while you’re driving, Buck. We’ll talk when we get home.” Buck tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried again.

“Eddie, I just—”

“Buck, I said not now.” Eddie’s voice was hard, and Buck’s mouth snapped shut on instinct. He glanced over at Eddie in the passenger seat, and he caught a glimpse of Eddie’s crossed arms and tense jaw before he snapped out, “Eyes on the road.”

Buck obeyed. They made the rest of the drive in silence.

The thing was, it wasn’t Buck’s fault. They’d seen the damaged fuel line when they arrived on the scene of the car accident, and they were able to get all of the victims out before Hen spotted one of the engines sparking. Bobby called for them to get everyone clear while they doused the engine, but the little girl Buck was carrying hit at him with futile little fists, calling for Tad Cooper. He looked at the mom, who was bruised up but able to walk on her own, to check that there wasn’t another kid or something they’d missed in the car, and she responded with a tight grimace.

“Her lizard,” she explained. “I don’t quite get it, but she loves that thing.”

And. Look. If it had been a dog trapped in that car, no one would blame Buck for going back. Bobby would’ve sigh heavily, and Hen would’ve said Buck’s gonna Buck, and Chim would’ve said Save some heroics for the rest of us, and Eddie would’ve nudged his shoulder into Buck’s and asked You okay? with his eyes, and when Buck told him he was, he would’ve given him a wrist tap.

But it hadn’t been a dog, and so when the fuel line caught despite their best efforts and three of the cars in pile up blew, and when he was knocked off his feet and a fragment of glass caught his cheekbone as he curled his torso around the lizard clutched to his chest, Buck didn’t get that level of understanding. Chim shook his head as he cleaned out the cut. Hen sucked her teeth and told him he wasn’t always going to get lucky. Bobby reprimanded him, letting his disappointment sit heavy on Buck’s shoulders.

And Eddie? Eddie didn’t speak to him for the rest of the call outside of what was necessary to get their work done. The accident happened on the morning commute to school, so by the time they cleared up the scene and got back to the station, B-shift had already rolled up, they were free to head home, and Eddie was still pissed at him.

But the girl—Violet—had said Thank you, Mr. Fireman through her tears as she clutched Tad Cooper to her chest and stroked her fingers down pebbled back, and Buck had barely even been hurt. It was worth it, to be able to give the lizard back over to her, to feel the squeeze of one of her little arms around his waist as she told him she was bringing Tad Cooper for show and tell today, and now she had an even bigger story to tell than a real-life dragon. Bearded dragon, her mother corrected, with a weary sigh that indicated a well-worn argument. But she thanked Buck anyway.

Buck was safe, and Tad Cooper was safe, and Violet had smiled at him with a missing front tooth and wide, bright eyes. It was worth it.

It felt less worth it with Eddie refusing to talk to him or let him talk as they drove home. Buck felt too big for his skin, like it was stretched too tight around him. His hands, wrapped around the wheel, might as well have been detached from his body, numb and somehow buzzing at the same time.

He knew Eddie wasn’t trying to punish him. They’d talked about this, the space Eddie needed to process. It could be hard because Buck processed verbally, needed to talk things through before he knew how he felt about them. But he could give Eddie his space when he needed it.

Eddie wasn’t trying to punish him, but Buck almost wished that he would.

They got home, and Eddie went straight to the kitchen, pulling the home first aid kit out from under the sink. He maneuvered Buck into a chair, and he wasn’t especially gentle about it either. He cleaned the cut on Buck’s cheek in stony silence.

“Chim already did that, you know,” Buck finally reminded him. Just to say something, anything, in this interminable quiet.

“I know.” Eddie’s voice was tense and rough, and Buck felt the impulse to shy away from the anger lying beneath it, but he held still beneath Eddie’s sure fingers. Eddie finished cleaning and put on a layer of ointment before putting away the kit.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked, pulling two beers out of the fridge and handing one to Buck without waiting for an answer. “It’s been a long morning already.”

Buck accepted his bottle, and Eddie settled down on the couch. He still wasn’t at ease, sitting with his back straight instead of leaning into the support of the couch. Buck sat next to him and tentatively let their knees brush, and the wave of relief that ran through him when Eddie didn’t pull away from him was frankly embarrassing.

Eddie broke the silence. “You can’t keep doing this.” Buck picked at the label of his beer bottle and let Eddie’s words wash over him. “Hen saw that the fuel spill was about to ignite at any second, and Bobby gave us the order to clear back, and you went back in for a fucking reptile? A reptile?” His voice was rising, and Buck braced his shoulders to keep from flinching back. He wasn’t scared of Eddie. If Eddie needed to yell at him, Buck could take being yelled at.

“You’ve got to start valuing your life, Buck,” Eddie continued. He hadn’t taken a single sip of his beer, his grip on it tight and unforgiving. “Why would you go back for a lizard, instead of coming home to me and Chris?”

That was a bit too far. “Hey, that’s not fair! I did come home to you and Chris! I’m here, I’m fine, I barely even got scratched.”

Eddie twisted to face him, eyes hard, and snapped, “You didn’t know that when you went back. You got lucky. If that car blew thirty seconds earlier, you’d’ve been toast, man.”

Buck shrugged, his shoulders tight with the weight of Eddie’s disapproval. “I don’t know what to tell you. Luck’s part of the job. And—” he saw Eddie winding up to cut in and charged forward anyway—“if Tad Cooper had been a dog, no one would’ve said anything, and you know it! He’s still a living thing! Why is everyone mad at me just because he’s not cute or fluffy? He still deserves to live, Eddie,” and suddenly his face was hot, and his throat was tight, and there was a burning behind his eyes. “He still deserves to live, even if people don’t see his value. And Violet loves him,” he added, even though it kind of undermined his point. It also was the point. He didn’t know the point anymore. He just knew that he was hurting, and Eddie was mad at him, and he didn’t want Eddie to be mad anymore.

He risked a glance at Eddie beside him, and something in his chest unknotted when he took in his softened posture, the twist of his mouth, the worry in his eyes.

“Of course he has value, Buck. But he doesn’t have more value than you.”

Buck swallowed, hard. Fuck verbal processing. He didn’t want to talk anymore. He wanted to be put back into his body, and he wanted Eddie to get over his anger, his disappointment.

He muttered a soft, “I’m sorry,” as Eddie finally took a swig of his beer, his eyes resting heavy on Buck as he did so. His mouth was still tight, his shoulders still drawn taut with a soldier’s deliberate control. Buck took a sip of his beer too, but it tasted sour in his mouth and burned in his stomach when he swallowed it down. He didn’t want more of it. He drank more anyway. Eddie had given it to him. He didn’t know what Eddie was seeing in him, but it must have been something because Eddie drank his beer in record time as they sat in terse silence. It hung heavy in the air, settled on Buck like it was trying to suffocate him.

 Eddie finished and set the bottle on the coffee table hard enough that the thud rang out through the room and into Buck’s bones as Eddie drew himself up.

“I’m going to shower,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Buck had grabbed a shower before he changed at the station, but Eddie had been on breakfast dishes duty, and Buck was ready to leave by the time he’d finished. He’d said he wouldn’t have minded waiting if Eddie wanted to shower too, but Eddie had said shortly that he’d just shower at home.

So now Eddie was in the shower, and Buck was alone on the couch with a beer he didn’t want and a boyfriend who was mad at him.

Well, that was one thing Buck could handle. If Eddie was frustrated with him, he knew how they could work that out. Eddie needed an outlet, and Buck wanted one too. Something to settle him, to ground him, to help him remember that he was wanted and useful and still alive.

And then once it was over, it’d be over. Eddie wouldn’t be mad anymore, and Buck could leave this sickening twisting of his stomach in the past.

Decided, he gathered up the beer bottles—Eddie’s emptied, his almost full—and brought them to the kitchen. He emptied his into the sink and then rinsed them both out before putting them in the recycling bag. He went to their bedroom and pulled their locked box of toys off of the shelf in the closet, assessing the choices for impact play. For his punishment.

There was the red paddle, bamboo, with holes drilled in it. It was far from his favorite. Too much sting, too sharp a pain. He preferred a deeper thud.

He took it out and laid it on the bed.

He grabbed a flogger too and a leather paddle too. He wanted to give Eddie choices. Obviously, he could get anything he wanted out himself, but Buck wanted to be good. Wanted to show Eddie that he could take whatever Eddie was wanting to dish out.

He ran his fingertips along a length of bamboo rope, enjoying the smooth lay of the fibers. He added a bundle to the bed and put away the box.

Three was a good number, but he pulled Eddie’s old belt off the hook behind the closet door. It was too worn to wear, which, Eddie liked to say, made it perfect to use. Buck could picture it now, in Eddie’s large, sure hands. Could hear the snap as he doubled it in half and pulled it tight.

Buck was letting Eddie choose, but secretly he hoped Eddie chose that one.

He stripped down to his black boxer briefs and surveyed the toys in front of him. He wasn’t sure what Eddie would choose, wasn’t sure what he wanted him to choose. But this wasn’t about what Buck wanted. It was about letting Eddie do what he needed to work out his anger at Buck.

He was ready, had everything prepared. He could still hear the sound of the water running, so he had at least ten minutes left, but he went ahead and knelt by the foot of the bed anyway, waiting for Eddie. Knees spread, hands resting on his thighs. Back straight, chin up. He’d been with doms who liked their subs to keep their eyes lowered, but Eddie liked eye contact. Said he liked the way Buck’s eyes went big and glassy when he fell into subspace. Said that he wanted to see his pupils blown wide. Said he wanted to see Buck, every piece of him.

It was enough to make Buck fuzzy as he knelt. He let the fantasy wash over him. The promise of Eddie’s eyes on him, Eddie’s hands on him. Hurting him, maybe, but proving he wanted him. He let himself sink, out of his body and into the place where nothing mattered except Eddie and being good for him. The slight ache in his leg, the tension of holding his posture, the anxiety that had been numbing his hands all morning since the crash. He let it all slip away.

This would be good. They would scene. Eddie would spank him or maybe push him around. Maybe he’d fuck his face and not let Buck come about it, or tie him up and use the flogger, or maybe he’d just ride him into the mattress, leaving bruises on his wrists from where he’d grabbed him tight because Buck always wanted to be obedient, but god, he also wanted his hands on Eddie.

And then, when they were done, Buck would be good again.

The water turned off in the bathroom, which meant Eddie would just be a few minutes more. Buck settled, letting himself drift to the edges of his headspace.

This would be good.

Faintly, he heard Eddie leave the bathroom, and then the door opened. Eddie, waist wrapped in a towel, drew up short, stopping in the doorway when he saw Buck kneeling there.

“What are you doing?” His voice was tight, a little harsh. It pulled Buck back a bit from the edge, and he quelled the urge to fidget with the anxiety that Eddie’s potential disapproval brought.

“Waiting for you,” he offers.

“For what, Buck? You can’t possibly think I’m in the mood to play right now.”

Buck swallowed, hard, fighting down the rising tide of panic. What was going wrong? Eddie didn’t want him? Eddie was mad at him, sure, but this is what Buck was good at. This is what Buck was for, when it came down to it. Nothing but bones and marrow and the muscles that encased them. His body was why he’d been made, and his body was what he had to offer, and if Eddie didn’t want that, then what would be left?

It was hard to subdue the rising panic and harder still to pull himself far enough out of that fuzzy, floating place he’d drifted to in order to answer Eddie properly, but he did his best.

“I thought it would make you feel better. I thought, maybe, you could work out some of your frustration? Cause I know you’re still mad at me, Eddie. You haven’t relaxed once since we finished that call.”

“The call where you tried your best to die for a lizard,” Eddie snapped, and Buck shrunk back, wounded by Eddie’s ire. Even though he’d earned it, it still burned.

“I’m sorry, sir.” It’s all he has to offer.

Eddie tilted his head back, working his jaw as he took a deep breath, and Buck felt tension stirring in the pit of his stomach, clawing at the inside of his chest. This wasn’t right. Eddie was supposed to be touching him, pushing him, playing with him. Letting himself go so he could let this anger go. Instead, Eddie was maintaining the tightest grip on himself that Buck had seen since they got together, jaw and shoulders taut.

“I’m not in the mood.” The words were harsh, and Buck flinched back before correcting his posture.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said again, and the words came out thick, and his eyes were stinging. “I just thought it would help. I thought you could work through it on me, push me around or—” he broke position to glance at the toys he’d laid out on the bed, saw Eddie follow his gaze and then blanch. “You could paddle me or belt me or whatever you want, sir.” Eddie hissed out a muffled, Jesus, Buck, from between his teeth, but Buck kept right on, swallowing down the sting of rejection that rose as a lump in his throat to plead, “Maybe it will help. I want to help, sir. I’m sorry. I just want to be good for you, Eddie. You can do whatever you want, just let me be good.”

Buck was startled by a stinging in the cut under his eye and realized his cheeks were damp by the time he finished. He didn’t know he’d been crying.

Eddie’s eyes softened, some of the tension leaving his face, his expression growing a little sharp and a little sad.

“You are good, Buck. You don’t have to let me do anything to you to earn that.”

Buck opened his mouth to argue, to explain, and Eddie finally fully entered the room. He pressed Buck’s jaw closed with two fingertips under his chin, and Buck shut up and let even this, the tiniest of contact, the simplest of directions, wash over him, easing his fear. Eddie cupped Buck’s face, wiping the tear tracks away with his thumbs, and something loosened in Buck’s chest, letting him breathe a little deeper. He felt like clay in Eddie’s hands, warm and heavy and waiting to be shaped however Eddie wanted him.

“Stay,” Eddie said, and Buck would stay forever, but he whined softly as Eddie crossed to the dresser. Buck couldn’t see him, too far behind to catch in his peripheral vision, but he heard the opening and closing of drawers, the rustle of clothes. Eddie returned to stand in front of him, dressed in gym shorts and an old t-shirt and holding more clothes in his hands.

“Good job waiting for me,” he said, and the praise mitigated Buck’s confusion when Eddie gave him a pair of sweats and a worn tank top. As Buck took the clothes, Eddie dropped his hand, letting it rest on Buck’s shoulder, thumb gently brushing the skin in the hollow of his collarbone, and something settled deep in Buck’s soul.

“Get dressed,” Eddie ordered softly, and Buck obeyed. The sweatpants and tank top were both Eddie’s, the bottom of the sweats rising up above his ankles, and even though he didn’t understand what was happening, Buck felt calm. He was Eddie’s. Even if Eddie was mad at him, he was Eddie’s.

When Buck was dressed, he looked to Eddie, feeling adrift without direction. Eddie met his gaze.

“You really worked yourself down deep while I was in the shower, didn’t you, baby?” he murmured, and Buck nodded. Somehow, he had. He’d been so worked up, and it was just so easy to slip into the space where Eddie was the only thing that mattered.

“Just wanted to give you what you wanted, sir,” he answered, and Eddie sighed softly.

“Yes. Yes, I got that Buck.”

Buck blinked, the confusion back at the wry note in Eddie’s voice.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby. I’m sorry. You did everything just right. You were so good for me. Can you keep being good for me, Buck? Can you tell me what you need right now?”

Buck wanted so badly to be good, but he didn’t know what he needed. The confusion grew, and he felt too heavy, too fuzzy to work through it.

“Thought you were going to hit me, but you said we aren’t playing, sir. I don’t know.”

Eddie returned one hand to Buck’s shoulder and used the other to cup the nape of his neck. Buck felt the warmth of his hand against his skin, the pressure of his fingers through the tank top, and he let himself believe that his confusion didn’t matter. Eddie would take care of him.

“We aren’t going to play the way that you’re thinking, sweetheart. But you clearly need something before I try and bring you back up. Do you want choices?”

Buck nodded. Choices were good. If Eddie gave him options, he could choose, even if he can’t generate options himself.

“Okay, baby. Do you want me to tie your wrists and lay you over my lap, or do you want to kneel for me?”

Eddie’s voice was low and warm, and Buck knew that whatever option he chose it would be the right one. Eddie wasn’t trying to trick him.

He thought about asking Eddie to tie his wrists, the feeling of surrender that accompanied immobility. He thought about lying across Eddie’s lap, letting himself melt into him.

But it didn’t feel like enough. He wanted the slight ache in his knees, the strain in his muscles. Wanted to feel like he was choosing surrender. Wanted to be gazing up at Eddie, the feeling of security that came from knowing Eddie was above him, taking care of him.

“Can I kneel for you, sir?”

Eddie reached up, ran a hand through Buck’s hair, not pulling, just letting the curls create a little bit of tug that had Buck melting at his touch.

“Of course, Buck. Thank you for telling me what you need.”

Eddie gathered the toys Buck had laid out on the bed and brought them back to the closet. He stowed them away and then pulled out a thin pad before sitting on the edge of the bed, placing the pad on the floor and bracketing it with his feet. He gestured with his chin, and Buck immediately knelt between his spread legs. He gazed up at Eddie, and Eddie ghosted a hand down the side of his cheek, laughing as Buck tried to lean into the touch.

“You’re so sweet for me, baby,” and he tilted Buck’s face up to press a short kiss against his lips. Buck tried to chase after him as he pulled away, and Eddie pressed a thumb against his mouth, blocking him.

“Later, sweetheart. First, you’re going to kneel for me. And you know that means telling me if anything starts to hurt or go numb, right, sweet boy?” When Buck nodded, Eddie continued, “After you’ve knelt for me, I’m going to bring you back up, and then we’re going to talk, okay?”

Buck thought that should make him anxious, but there was no room for anxiety here. Not while he was on his knees. Not while he was Eddie’s sweet boy. If Eddie said they would talk, then they would talk. But that was later, and this was now. Right now, his only job was to be on his knees here, for Eddie.

As he knelt, he felt Eddie’s hand return to his hair, carding gently, blunt fingernails lightly grazing his scalp. Buck instantly relaxed, letting his head tilt toward Eddie’s thigh. At his gentle touch, Eddie flattened his palm and pressed Buck’s head into the side of his leg. Buck let the weight of his head rest against Eddie, let the weight of his worries drift away. Eddie was here. Eddie would take care of him. Eddie would make Buck good.

Eddie’s fingers continued carding through Buck’s curls, making lazy circles on his scalp. Buck let himself float, let himself sink into the press of Eddie’s thigh against his temple and his hand on his head, the only things grounding him.

He was drawn back to the present by Eddie’s hand leaving his hair and placing two fingers beneath Buck’s chin to raise his head. Buck opened his eyes—he hadn’t even noticed them drifting closed—and looked up at Eddie, who was gazing at him, expression soft but tinged with concern.

“You’ve been kneeling for a while, and I don’t know how long you were waiting for me, before. Is your leg alright?”

Buck fought down the impulse to reply in the affirmative. Eddie didn’t want him to say yes. Eddie wanted the truth. So Buck took a moment to evaluate his body, the press of the cushion against his knees, the stiffness in his legs from being in the same position on the floor for so long. But nothing hurt, and as he shifted forward a little, nothing locked up, so he ducked his head to plant a kiss on Eddie’s open palm before murmuring, “I’m okay, sir. Green.”

“Thank you for telling me, sweetheart,” said Eddie as he dropped his hold on Buck’s chin and stroked his fingers along Buck’s jaw and down the arc of his neck. Buck let his eyes fall closed and his head drop back, exposing his throat to Eddie. Wanting Eddie’s touch, the security that came from giving over control to Eddie even of the breath in his lungs. Eddie chuckled, grazing the sides of Buck’s windpipe with his thumb and finger, teasing a grip that didn’t come before grasping Buck by the hair again and pulling his head upright.

“I told you we weren’t playing that way,” Eddie reminded as he released his grip and returned to his gentle petting. When Buck let out a mournful whimper, he added, “I’m sorry for teasing. Why don’t you stay for ten more minutes, and then we’ll start bringing you up.”

“Yes, sir,” Buck murmured and let his head rest on Eddie’s knee again.

He spent the next ten minutes outside of time, drifting somewhere where he was warm and safe and unquestioningly sure of his worth. How could he doubt it, when Eddie wanted him?

Sometime later—presumably ten minutes because he trusted Eddie, but it could’ve been one or one hundred for all Buck knew—Eddie pulled his head back up. He stooped down, cupping Buck’s jaw in his hand and pressing another kiss to his mouth. This one was slower and deeper but still too short, and a whine tore out of Buck’s throat as Eddie pulled away. It only served to make him smile and suck his tongue against his teeth.

“Needy boy,” he said, with such warm wonder that Buck couldn’t have been hurt by it if he tried.

“Your needy boy,” Buck said, and he nuzzled into Eddie’s hand.

“My needy boy,” Eddie affirmed. “My good boy.” Buck made a happy little noise in the back of his throat and let his eyes drift closed, basking in the warm glow of Eddie’s praise.

“No, no,” and Buck opened his eyes at Eddie’s reprimand. “Stay with me, baby. It’s time to get you up. Let’s start with getting you onto the bed.”

He slid his hands under Buck’s arms, supporting him as Buck started to rise off of his knees. Buck rose slowly, working out any stiffness and making sure his legs could support his weight as he transferred to the bed. Eddie started talking to him, a litany of soothing reassurance, all about how good Buck had been for him. He got Buck settled on top of the covers, propped up on the pillows and the headboard. Buck slowly started coming back to himself, more aware of the present, more grounded in his body. He started to stretch languidly, enjoying the heavy, sated feeling flooding him from toe to crown. As he started moving, Eddie broke off.

“Back with me then, sweetheart?”

“Working on it,” Buck replied.

“Enough that I can go get some water and stuff?”

When Buck gave his acquiescence, Eddie pressed a kiss above his eye, right on his birthmark, and left. Buck kept slowly stretching, getting used to feeling like he inhabited a corporeal form instead of being made of mush or fog. He scooted farther up the bed, so he was sitting more than lying down when Eddie returned with two bottles of water, one with a greenish hue that Buck knew meant his favorite lemon-lime flavored electrolyte powder had been mixed in. He also had a plate of peeled orange segments, apple slices, and fresh blackberries. Eddie may have been near useless in the kitchen for most of his life, but fresh cut fruit really was his love language.

Eddie climbed onto the bed, pressing himself against Buck from shoulder to calf, and proceeded to hand-feed him while Buck sipped his electrolyte mix. He didn’t really need to be replenished; they hadn’t actually gotten up to anything strenuous. But Buck still felt worn through, and it had been a long shift, and this was the routine after any kind of scene.

He loved it.

Buck finished the orange he was eating and then rolled out his neck, wincing at the loud pop.

“Damn, why do I feel like you worked me over when you barely even touched me?” he whined, and Eddie laughed.

“It’s a lot of work, looking as pretty on your knees as you do,” and Buck’s face heated even as he dug an elbow into Eddie’s side. Eddie retaliated, and they ended up with Eddie’s arm around Buck’s neck in a sleeper hold until Buck tapped out, laughing.

When they’d caught their breaths, Eddie settled, sitting up a little straighter in a way that caught Buck’s attention.

“Can I start?” Buck asked before Eddie could begin. When Eddie nodded, he continued, “I’m really sorry.”

“Buck—” Eddie tried to interject, but Buck cut him off.

“No, I really am sorry, Eddie. You didn’t want to scene, and I put us in a position where you had to if you wanted to take care of me. I’m sorry, Eddie. That wasn’t fair.”

Eddie hummed, and twisted so he could look at Buck. Buck twitched with the urge to avoid the eye contact, but he forced himself to meet Eddie’s gaze, letting Eddie see his earnest contrition.

“It’s alright, Buck. Talk to me, next time, before you work yourself so deep, please. But you were doing what you needed and what you thought I needed. I’m not mad about that.

“But it really bothers me, that you think I should hurt you when I’m angry. I need you to know that I’ll never, ever do that, okay, Buck? I’m never going to scene with you for the purpose of ‘working out my anger.’ I hope you would never let anyone scene with you like that. What we do together, it’s for fun. It’s for pleasure. I’m not interested in letting what we do in the bedroom—” and Buck had to quell the cheeky urge to point out that they get up to their fair share outside the bedroom as well, “—interfere with how we work through things in our lives, okay? Spanking you is not a way for me to work through my frustration when you piss me off in the field. I’m not going to push you around because I don’t feel like you value your life. It would be counterproductive, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess so.” Buck wasn’t totally sure on that point, but he knew what Eddie was saying.

“So, can you tell me why you were asking me to hurt you? Why you were so sure I was going to that you worked yourself into subspace when I wasn’t even in the room?”

Buck thought, and Eddie let him. He really wasn’t sure. It was difficult to detangle his reasoning from his impulses. He fought back the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him at trying to find the right answer to a question that didn’t have one. Mostly, he’d been driven by the need to feel like he was good for Eddie, but that wasn’t an answer as to why he thought that was the way that Eddie wanted him to be good.

“I think there’s two things but maybe really one thing,” he started, and Eddie hummed in acknowledgement, encouraging Buck to continue. “I think there’s part of me—and I’m sorry, Eddie. I don’t want to say this about you. I don’t mean it, not really.”

Eddie scooched a little higher against the headboard so he could rest his head on top of Buck’s.

“I want to hear it, baby. I can hear it, and know that you don’t mean it, and also understand what it means for you that it’s in your head.”

Buck swallowed.

“I do think I thought it would be good for you to hurt me. For both of us. Like, I felt like you were mad at me. Were you mad at me?” He knew it was a tangent, but it felt important, immediate.

Buck could feel Eddie’s jaw working against the top of his head, knew without seeing that Eddie was chewing the inside of his lip. He took a moment before answering.

“I was, baby. I understand what you were saying, about it being a double standard. And I love that you value life like that, Buck, that you want to make little girls happy by saving the things they love, but I want—I need—you to value your own life. Maybe more than a lizard’s, even if it’s loved by a little girl.”

Buck didn’t want to belabor the point, but he still felt like Eddie didn’t understand.

“I don’t value a lizard more than my own life, Eddie. I just didn’t think my own life was in that much danger. And I was right! I barely got scratched.”

Eddie leaned forward, twisting to soothe a thumb across the cut to Buck’s cheek, and an aborted hiss, more surprise than pain, escaped Buck’s lips. Eddie nodded matter-of-factly, like he had proven something.

“If this had been just a little higher and a little deeper, you could’ve lost the eye, Buck. And what if you’d still been in the car, looking for that damned thing when it exploded? You really could’ve died, Buck.”

“That’s literally our job, Eddie! Any day we could have died! I promise—” Buck cut himself off and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He didn’t want to get worked up. He wanted to be level-headed. He wanted to get at the root of this, and then go the fuck to sleep, with Eddie beside him and no anger or doubt between them. It had been a long fucking day.

“I promise I didn’t think I was risking my life, Eddie. I knew I could get out of there in time. If I couldn’t find it, I would’ve left it. I swear.”

Eddie took a deep breath too and let his head fall heavy against the headboard behind him.

“Okay, Buck. I hear you. I appreciate that it wasn’t blind impulse. Maybe I overreacted.”

Buck shifted a little, uncomfortably, because maybe there was a little impulsivity involved. Yeah, he’d thought it was safe enough, but that hadn’t really been the point. Not when someone asked something of him that was in his power to give.

Eddie was right. He’ll think more, next time. Weigh more, what Eddie would want. Surely that mattered more than a stranger.

Eddie continued, “But that wasn’t the whole of it, Buck. You thought I was mad, and you thought I wanted to hurt you about it?

Buck fidgeted, uncomfortable with that framing.

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda bad.”

“It is kind of bad, baby, because I never want to hurt you. Not for real, and not in anger.”

Buck struggled to pull a thread from his mind, to make the unintelligible swirl of his thoughts something he could verbalize instead of simply experience.

“I guess I just thought I’d done something wrong. And the easiest way to fix that would be to like, take my punishment I guess?” Eddie didn’t move, but Buck felt the way his body froze, the easy rise and fall of his chest cut short, and he hurried to add, “But that’s not entirely it either because I love everything we do together.”

Eddie took a slow, measured breath.

“I’m glad to hear that, Buck, and I need you to tell me if that’s ever not the case. I’m not going to—” he cut himself off, and Buck was horrified to hear the thickness of repressed tears in his voice. “I won’t let you use me to hurt yourself.”

Immediately, Buck was tripping over his words trying to reassure Eddie, twisting to press his hands to Eddie’s chest, ensure his words were heard.

“No, Eddie, no, I didn’t, I wasn’t— Eddie I wouldn’t, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Then what were you doing, Buck? I know it’s hard to explain, but from where I’m sitting, you wanted to be hurt, and you wanted me to be the one to do it.”

That wasn’t right, but it also wasn’t wrong, and Buck struggled to find the words. Eddie deserved the right ones, but he also deserved true ones, and Buck wasn’t sure those weren’t mutually exclusive right now. He had wanted to hurt. He had wanted Eddie to do it. It just didn’t seem so wrong as it sounded when Eddie said it.

He tried to trace the line of thought back. Why had scening with Eddie, in the midst of the anger and hurt between them, felt like the thing he needed?

He took a stab at it.

“Maybe it’s like, I’ve spent a lot of time relying on my body in a lot of ways, right? With jobs but also with sex and sex appeal.” He didn’t think about Daniel. Didn’t think about the core wound that is his body’s failure of its ultimate purpose. “So, I guess maybe I was thinking something like, if I could remind you what I was good for, you’d love me again?” His voice cracked at the end, ticking up even though it wasn’t really a question. “That still sounds bad, doesn’t it.”

Eddie gripped his wrist, a solid, grounding pressure.

“Yeah, baby. It sounds pretty bad. It sounds hard to live with that in your head.” He circled his thumb across Buck’s pulse point as he continued, “You know it isn’t true, though, right, Buck? You know I want you always, even when I’m mad at you?”

“You didn’t, though. Want me. You didn’t want to play.”

“I was angry, Buck, and I didn’t want to bring that into our bedroom, into the dynamic we have here. That doesn’t mean I didn’t still want you in a broader sense. I want you with me. I want your partnership. I love you, and you don’t have to earn that, Evan. I love you, and that’s yours, for the rest of our lives.”

A slow, bone-deep shudder ran through Buck, and he felt tears welling in his eyes, too fast to even sting before they started falling.

“I love you too, Eddie. Always, with all of me.”

“I know, Buck. I know.”

Buck turned on his side and tucked his face into Eddie’s shoulder and let himself sob. Eddie wrapped him tight in his arms, stroking a soothing hand over his ribs, gently shushing him with the same soft reassurances he used on Chris during his rare meltdowns when he was smaller. Buck felt his hair dampen with Eddie’s own tears, silently falling.

“I love you, Eddie. I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want you to feel like you’re bad for me. You’re not, you’re the best for me. I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I know, Buck. It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I love you. I just want you to be safe.”

“You make me feel safe, Eddie. At work, at home, in the bedroom. I know I’m as safe as I can be when I’m with you.”

“Partners,” Eddie said, and Buck could hear the pleased smile he couldn’t see with his face still buried in Eddie’s chest. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and then another, smelling Eddie’s soap and deodorant and the detergent for sensitive skin Shannon had used when Chris was a baby that Eddie had never transitioned away from. Eddie smelled safe. He smelled like home. Buck took one more purposeful breath, and when he let it out he felt all the tension drain from his body. Suddenly, he was exhausted.

Eddie clearly felt his body go slack because he suggested, “Why don’t we go to sleep? It’s been a long day, in more ways than one.”

Buck was beat but never too beat to make fun of Eddie. He peaked over at the clock on the bedside table and then snarked, “A long day? It’s only 11:30.”

Eddie reached over and pinched Buck’s lower lip between the curve of his first finger and his thumb, pressing sharply as he pulled it down. “Brat,” he said affectionately, and Buck laughed.

“Your brat,” he said, snuggling closer.

Eddie pressed a soft kiss to his temple and murmured, “My good boy,” and Buck, safe and warm and bone tired, was out like a light.