Archive of Our Own

Buck's back hits the door so hard it rattles in its frame, his heart trying to punch its way out of his chest.

A fist slams into the door, startling him into letting out a sharp gasp of fright.

"Evan!"

The edge of an Alpha command to Tommy's tone cuts straight through him, and Buck claps his hands over his ears, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

No.

Not today.

"Tommy, I swear to god I will call the cops if you don't leave!" he shouts back, voice reedier than he wants it to be.

Footsteps pace back and forth. Too close. Too loud.

A sharp crack— Like something hitting the doorframe, and it rattles in its frame. Buck flinches so hard his head cracks against the door, making him hiss in pain. The handle of his door jostles, once, twice, like Tommy is trying to strong arm his way into Buck's apartment before it stops and there's an enraged snarl and then nothing.

It feels like the silence drags on for hours before the sound of footsteps fade down the hall.

Buck gasps out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, shaking hands scrambling for his phone, fingers clumsy in his panic. his hands are uncoordinated and it takes several sweeps of his thumb to open his phone. He nearly drops it twice.

All he can think of is Eddie.

Eddie, his alpha best friend whose den seems so much safer to him right now.

He opens his chat with him and types without thinking.

He's halfway to the kitchen before he looks up again, watching as Eddie's messages back pop up not long after he sent them much to his relief. His legs are unsteady, and his knees collapse under him as soon as he reaches a barstool. The impact of his heavy fall onto the stool vibrates up his spine and he curls over himself, trying to make himself smaller as he hunches over his phone.

Buck: think i can stay the night?

Eddie: Yeah, sure, everything okay?

Buck: sort of, just feelng weird rn

Eddie: How come??

Buck: jsut don't want 2 be alone

Eddie: Okay man, mi casa es su casa— you're always welcome here, you know that.

Buck exhales tiredly, resting his arms on the counter and dropping his forehead onto them.

It had been a long week.

He'd known Tommy would be a dick about the breakup. He just hadn't realized how much of one.

A week of messages non stop. Showing up to Buck's loft uninvited. Somehow knowing Buck's schedule better than he ever had when they were actually dating. Which— yeah, they'd dated for six months, but it wasn't like Tommy had cared about the details of Buck's life back then. He'd been perfectly happy not knowing, not unless it would lead to him getting his dick wet.

His phone buzzes.

Buck already knows before he looks at it.

Unknown: I'll be back the same time tomorrow, Evan, and I will keep turning up until you talk to me.

“Jesus—” He grimaces and blocks the number immediately, thumb tapping harder than necessary. It’s mildly satisfying—short-lived as that feeling is.

His gut twists.

He scrubs a hand over his face. The whole thing feels so… off.

Six months.

Half a year of his life spent on someone who hadn’t cared enough to actually know him.

They’d gone out for an anniversary dinner. Buck had asked if they were exchanging gifts—none of his past girlfriends had really been into that, but you never know. Tommy had told him not to worry, that they’d just mark it with a good meal.

And then he’d given Buck tickets to a basketball game.

Buck had smiled. Thanked him. Made an awkward little, “Yay.”

Internally, he’d been screaming.

Six months. Six months. Six. Months.

Six months had been long enough for Buck to know Tommy’s favorite color—icy silver-blue, because cyan was too loud and navy too close to their uniforms. Long enough to know he hated being late, got short if anything threatened his schedule. That he drank his spirits neat. That he had a whole whiskey collection he didn’t even touch because he was waiting for it to appreciate in value—his most expensive bottle a Suntory Hibiki gathering dust on a shelf.

Buck knew all the little things. The routines. The preferences. The way Tommy liked things done.

He’d paid attention.

Tommy hadn’t.

Not to anything that actually mattered.

Like the fact Buck was allergic to naprogesics—and he’d handed him ibuprofen without a second thought.

…Or like the fact he hated basketball.

Six months, and Tommy didn’t know either of those things.

Buck exhales slowly.

He’s not sure Tommy had ever really tried to.

The memory comes back sharp.

Tommy’s scent had shifted first—something brewing under that clean, polite surface. He’d still been smiling, still looked composed, but the scent gave him away.

Then the comments had started.

Tommy had joked Buck could take Eddie instead. Buck had blinked, asked, “Really?” and Tommy had scoffed. “And die.”

Buck huffs faintly.

He’s never been great at telling when people are joking.

When he was a kid, he’d had a lot of chest infections. One day his mother had joked—With all that coughing, I hope Evan’s losing weight. He’d taken it seriously. Stood in front of the mirror, turning sideways, trying to see what she meant.

She’d caught him.

And called him stupid.

So yeah. Sometimes things don’t land right.

Tommy had seen it on his face when Buck took him seriously, even for a second.

They’d moved past it. Or pretended to.

Then Tommy started talking about his ex—except it didn’t take long to realize he meant Abby.

Buck’s mouth had tightened.

The whole night had gone downhill from there.

Tommy calling him “some young himbo.” Buck biting back the fact that their age gap wasn’t exactly different from his and Abby’s. The passive-aggressive comments, one after another, all of it happening in front of an audience.

Buck had paid. Of course he had.

Outside, Tommy had steered him toward the car, hand heavy on his back, all practiced politeness—opening the door, acting the gentleman.

But his scent had already gone sharp. Cold.

The second they were alone, he’d started.

First the tickets. Then Eddie. Then Buck’s outfit, like it had ever been about the clothes. His scent just kept building. Filling the car. Pressing in. By the time they reached the loft, it was suffocating.

There’d been a pause—just a second—between the car and the apartment.

And then it had surged again.

Buck swallowed.

Tommy had lost it.

Completely.

The scent had hit like a wall—cold, sharp, overwhelming, leaving no space for anything else.

But—

Buck huffs a quiet, brittle breath.

That was just Alpha shit, right?

…Right?

Buck was still getting used to everything—he’d been a latent, had lived most of his life like a beta. According to his parents, his body had just had an embarrassing defect. Like it couldn't decide what it wanted to be.

He’d made the most of it. Betas and omegas didn’t seem to mind—he couldn’t get anyone pregnant, so he was fun to fuck and not really… someone you stuck around for.

Then Eddie had come to the 118, and Buck had taken one breath of the Alpha’s scent—

—and presented.

He doesn’t remember much from it. Just flashes.

Claws. Fangs. Heat under his skin.

The way his scent had shifted—mild citrus blooming into something warmer. Mandarin, ripe peach, amber.

According to Hen and Chim, he’d scared the shit out of them, scrambling around the firehouse on all fours like some kind of feral cat in heat. Bobby had been the only one who could get close enough to sedate him.

Eddie had, too. Technically.

But Buck—embarrassingly—had presented for him. Whined for him.

No one had been keen to repeat that experience, so Bobby had taken over.

His omega hadn’t been happy about it.

Not the sedation. Not the recovery.

He’d been pouty. Miserable. Generally a nightmare to be around.

Maddie had put up with it anyway.

So had Bobby.

Buck huffs quietly.

He’s… still kind of grateful for that.

If a little embarrassed.

Either way, his breakup with Tommy hadn’t—

His thoughts stall.

Cold.

Buck’s stomach twists.

Eucalyptus. Mint. Steel.

The way it had burned with every sawing intake of breath—

The panic.

He sucks in a sharp breath and shakes his head, like he can physically dislodge the memory before it settles in too deep.

No.

He doesn’t follow the thought down that road.

Doesn’t need to.

He already knows how that night ended.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself, pushing off the stool a little too hard. “Not doing that right now.”

He’s moving before he can think about it, grabbing an overnight bag and shoving things into it with more force than necessary.

Buck’s jumpy by the time he gets down to his jeep, shoulders tight, gaze flicking over his shoulder like he expects to see Tommy standing there.

The sight of his tires—

“Are you fucking kidding me—”

All four are slashed.

Buck huffs out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, scrubbing a hand over his face before digging his phone out of his pocket.

“Who the fuck does this dinosaur-ass motherfucker think he is,” he mutters, already opening his browser, “acting like a fucking jilted fifteen-year-old—”

Nothing.

No 24-hour mobile tire services nearby.

“Of course not,” he snaps.

He kicks one of the tires, the dull thud doing nothing for the restless energy crawling under his skin, and starts pacing in front of the jeep, chewing at his nails as his thoughts spin.

The citrus in his scent sours, turning sharp enough that it almost puckers his lips when he catches it. Anyone passing by would be able to scent the distress on him.

He sucks in a shuddering breath and pulls his phone back out, booking an Omega Lyft.

He heads back to the lobby to wait, figuring it’s the safer option than lingering outside.

The driver who picks him up, thankfully, doesn’t try to make small talk. Buck sinks into the silence, shoulders tight, gaze fixed out the window. The driver’s nostrils flare once at Buck’s scent, but whatever he notices, he keeps it to himself.

By the time Buck gets to Eddie’s place, he’s $40 out of pocket and already feeling better at the familiar sight of the Diaz's cozy house.

When he gets to the door he fumbles in his pocket for his key, but Eddie opens the door before he can find them. He stills for a moment at the sight of the other man, before he tilts into his space and nuzzles into the warmth of the Alpha's throat.

Safe.

He didn't realize how unsafe he'd felt until Eddie's scent had hit him like a tonne of bricks. Good bricks, emotionally stabilizing bricks. His scent of citrus, cardamon and amberwood— so warm and inviting. Eddie's hands find his shoulders and he lets out a huff of a laugh.

“Well, hello to you too, Buck,” he says lightly, his hands soothing up and down Buck’s arms.

Buck hums and presses the tip of his nose to Eddie’s scent gland, eyes fluttering closed.

“Hmm, your scent—” Eddie wraps him up in his strong arms, pulling him closer. Protective. “What happened?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” he mutters. “But I need to get my jeep’s tires changed tomorrow.”

He can feel Eddie tense a little, but he relaxes before gently steering Buck into the house with his large, warm hand on the small of Buck’s back.

He steers him towards the couch and bullies him into it. Buck slumps into his seat, blinking sleepily at Eddie as he sits across from him on the coffee table, a hand finding Buck’s shoulder as he peers into his eyes.

It takes a moment, Eddie looking between his eyes before he very softly says, “I know you don’t want to talk about it yet, but I need you to know you can ask me for anything, yeah?”

Buck smiles at him.

“Yeah, I know,” he says to him, musing over that for a moment. “You could drop me home after work tomorrow.”

Eddie nods, squeezing his shoulder.

“Done.”

And then Buck looks down at his knees for a moment, feeling hesitant about asking— but it’s Eddie, and he knows how much it comforts Buck.

“A-and,” he looks at Eddie through the fan of his eyelashes, suddenly shy. “Just— c-can you scent me so I can sleep?”

Eddie frowns at the request, and it’s obvious he’s worried, but he agrees quickly.

“Of course, you never have to ask for it, Buck,” he says. “I know it’s been six years since you presented, but I notice you can still be a little hesitant to ask for these things.” He huffs a quiet breath. “Scenting helps keep you regulated—and I want to be the one you come to.” He gives Buck this fond look that has Buck’s heart swell in his chest. “I’m here to help, always.”

Buck’s ears burn a little red at the touch, but he returns the sentiment.

“Y-you too, Eddie, all you ever have to do is ask, and I’m always happy to help you.”

“I know,” Eddie replies, thumb soothing over Buck’s cheekbone before—

Buck nods, shifting a little closer without thinking.

Eddie’s thumb brushes over his cheekbone before his hand slides to the side of Buck’s neck, wrist pressing warm against his scent gland. He moves slow this time, deliberate, grounding, circling gently until Buck’s breath starts to even out.

Buck tilts his head, exposing his throat without really thinking about it.

Eddie hums low in approval.

The change is immediate.

Eddie’s scent settles around him—warm citrus, soft spice, amberwood—steady and familiar, threading through Buck’s own until the sharp edge of it softens, the mandarin and peach rounding out, turning sweeter, calmer.

Buck exhales, long and shaky.

The tension drains out of him all at once, like something inside finally unclenches, and he leans into it, eyes fluttering shut.

It feels so good it almost hurts.

A quiet, involuntary purr slips out of his chest.

Eddie takes it as encouragement to lean forward and press his nose into the scent gland on the other side of his neck, pulling a shiver from Buck at the touch. He nudges Buck’s head to the side, gently cupping Buck’s face in his hand so he has more room to lean in and nuzzle at the gland there, lavishing attention on it until he pulls Buck closer—until Buck is practically in his lap as he presses their glands together.

Buck melts, his head going fuzzy at the feel. He turns into soup in Eddie’s arms, soft and pliant as Eddie’s own purr rumbles out of his chest to join Buck’s.

They stay like that for a few more minutes, until Eddie untangles himself from Buck so gently Buck feels a little giddy with how attentive he is. That’s his best friend.

That’s his Eddie.

“There you go,” Eddie purrs, his chest still rumbling as he pushes Buck’s curls back off his face. “Think you can sleep now, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck slurs, wobbling in his seat.

“Good. I’ve already made the couch up for you. You should head over to the bathroom and wash up for bed, bud.”

He chucks Buck’s chin affectionately.

“And brush your teeth, Buckley—you’ve got broccoli stuck between your front incisors.” Eddie gestures toward his own mouth, baring his teeth to show Buck where it is.

Buck snorts in laughter, pushing himself up. He stumbles to the bathroom with a smile on his face.

He sleeps deeply, only awakened by the sound of Chris shuffling into the front room to pass through to the kitchen in the morning. He sits up, groggy, hair mussed with pillow creases on his face.

"Oh!” Chris says, pausing, one hand on the wall to balance as he looks over at Buck, not really surprised to see him there. “Hey, Buck! Dad didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

Buck rubs at his eyes, yawning.

“Yeah,” he says through it, blinking blearily over at Chris. “Want me to make you and your dad some breakfast?” he asks, and Chris grins at him.

“Cheese omelette?” Chris asks hopefully, and Buck hums in assent, pushing himself up so he can lumber over to the pup. Not that Chris liked being referred to as a pup anymore, being too ‘grown’ for it now.

“Sure,” Buck replies, knowing Eddie has enough eggs for all of them because he’d bought them the last time he’d spent the night. Which really wasn’t that long ago—he was getting tired of being ambushed at his loft and had been spending more time with Eddie and Chris. Making up for all the times he’d dipped on them because of Tommy. Which—huge waste of time, by the way—he could have spent it with his two favorite people instead.

Not that he’d felt all that welcome lately, mostly due to Marisol. She hadn’t done anything, but Buck didn’t want to be in their space while she was settling in with their family more. And then it hadn’t worked out between them anyway.

Buck had asked Eddie about it, but Eddie had shrugged it off.

“We just didn’t click, y’know? It was mutual.”

And Buck believed him.

He cracks eggs into a bowl as Chris yaps about school to him, leaning against the kitchen island to watch Buck as he makes their breakfast. Buck whisks the eggs and glances over at Chris, who smiles at him, canines showing like his dad’s do. He grins back, and every time he sees the pup, he looks more like his dad—the slope of his nose, the way his eyes squint into half moons when he smiles that big, genuine smile that Buck loves to see on both of them.

“How cheesy do you want yours?” he asks, and Chris looks over at the cheese before looking back at Buck.

“Super cheesy,” Chris tells him with a nod. “You can add all your healthy things to balance it out, I guess.”

Which Buck translates into: he’s okay with some cherry tomatoes, onion, and spinach.

He makes the omelette and then slides it onto a plate for Chris before turning back to make Eddie’s just the way he likes it—chorizo, onion, black beans, and fresh pico de gallo on top. He’d gotten Buck onto it too, so he’s not worried about the extra few steps, because he’s making it for both of them. After cooking, Buck sets the plates at the table before turning back to the kitchen to start the coffee.

He hears a loud “Mwah!” coming from the dining room and hides a snort at Chris’s disgruntled “Daad! Gross!” that follows it.

“Thanks, Buck!” Eddie calls out to him, and Buck grabs their coffees, balancing them as he walks them into the dining room, setting one down in front of Eddie. He sits across from the alpha and looks up to see Eddie smiling at him.

He smiles back on reflex, his mouth just can’t help it when he sees Eddie. It ticks up into a smile.

He watches Eddie and Chris exchange little jabs back and forth, the kind that only a sarcastic dad with an equally sarcastic son could pull off. He loves watching them like this—just being a family together. It makes him a little heartsick with the want of it—how easy it would be to just wake up to this every day.

They finish their breakfast, and Eddie bustles about, getting his and Chris’s stuff ready for their twenty-four on. Chris would be spending the time with his Tía Pepa; he was excited because she’d promised she’d make chilaquiles for him with the leftover chicken from her dinner the night before. Buck tidies up the mess he made in the kitchen, looking at Eddie every time he comes back in in varying stages of dressed as he looks for something else Chris forgot. At one point, he comes in mostly dressed but with only one sock on. Buck ends up sitting him down so he can drag the other sock on while Buck looked for Chris’s lucky pen he uses for tests. Apparently, according to Mackenna, who heard from Dianna, who is the English teacher’s niece—they were going to have a surprise pop quiz on their assigned reading today. Chris just wanted to be sure he was ready for anything.

Buck eventually finds it in the junk drawer, bending over to pick it up when fumbles it and drops it. It’s a ‘fancy’ blue pen he’d bought Chris on one of their visits to the zoo. Animals are printed onto the casing—teeth marks pressed into the tip from Chris gnawing on it in concentration. Buck picks him up a new one every time they visit the zoo ever since he aced his first exam using it. The pup was awfully superstitious about things like this, considering he was the son of Eddie, famously ‘non-believer’ Diaz.

His little “aha!” moment is lost when he turns and sees that Eddie has put his sock on the foot he already had a sock on. He pulls an amused face and heads over, crouching in front to him. He pulls the sock off and then puts it on the right foot like it's the most natural thing in the world, looking up at Eddie with barely contained laughter.

Eddie just looks down at him, a little dumbstruck.

“I thought I’d be the one struggling this morning,” he teases, placing a hand on Eddie’s knee to help push himself back up to a stand. Eddie grabs his other hand as he gets up to steady him, knowing him kneeling like that likely hurt.

“Yeah, well, usually we’re like a well-oiled ship over here, but I suppose we all have our days,” Eddie says with a self-deprecating laugh. “Thanks for finding the pen, by the way.” Eddie looks up at him and smiles. “Chris was losing his head tryna find it in his room.”

“All good,” Buck murmurs, handing it to him.

After that, their morning goes smoothly and they’re off without a hitch. The traffic is bad—because it is LA—but once they’ve cleared the school traffic after dropping Chris off, it’s a little less congested. The commute is long, but Eddie lets him put his audiobook on and they both listen to it, pausing every now and then to chat about something said in it. Bill Bryson’s A Short History of Nearly Everything is the kind of book Buck thrives on, so he bounces in his seat when he discovers Eddie is as interested in it as he is.

“You may not feel outstandingly robust, but if you are an average-sized adult you will contain within your modest frame no less than 7 × 10¹⁸ joules of potential energy—enough to explode with the force of thirty very large hydrogen bombs, assuming you knew how to liberate it and really wished to make a point.”

“Wait,” Eddie says, a grin creasing his cheeks. “Pause!”

Buck dutifully does so.

Eddie slides a sly look his way.

“If that’s how much energy is contained in an average person, how much energy do you think you have contained in you?”

Buck hums at that question, tilting his head back in consideration.

“I don’t—” he frowns, turning to look at Eddie again. “I have no fucking clue, Eds—too much, that’s for sure.”

“I do keep telling people you’re like an Energizer Bunny,” Eddie muses as Buck starts the audiobook again.

“I’m too big to be a bunny,” Buck grumps, frowning at the alpha.

Eddie huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, you might be—but you get all stompy and stroppy like one when you’re being a brat,” Eddie says with a laugh.

Buck just crosses his arms over his chest, staring moodily out the window before he breaks and has to turn his face to hide a smile.

“I saw that,” Eddie tells him. “Can’t hide anything from me, Buck—I can smell how much you like being called a bratty bunny.”

Buck freezes and turns to Eddie, a little wide-eyed, nostrils flaring as he tries to scent what Eddie is scenting.

It just smells like—

happy, happy, happy.

Eddie parks the car before looking over at Buck, chucking Buck’s chin with his knuckles as he looks at him with those brown eyes of his that go all golden when the sunlight hits them.

“I was just joking—” he smiles at him, a little wickedly now, “silly bunny.”

He chooses that moment to leave the truck and head into work, Buck scrambling out of the truck after him.

He catches up to him at the bay doors, where Bobby is standing with his back to them holding something cradled in his arms. When Buck peers over the older man's shoulder his stomach drops.

There's two bouquets of roses in his arms, which he tries not to screw his nose up at, but the scent of this is enough to send him into a sneezing fit. Bobby turns to him, startled to see him sneezing.

"Well, that's going to be a problem for your admirer, Buck," Bobby says lightly. Eddie crosses his arms over his chest as he watches them, frown creasing his brow.

"Wha—" a sneeze interupts him before he can finish his worrying but its enough for Bobby to understand what he's asking anyway.

"These came for you this morning," Bobby says, and he goes to hold them out to him in an aborted gesture when Buck waves him away, sneezing again. Eddie sighs and takes them from Cap in his stead, digging through it until he can find a card.

He flips it open and stares at it mulishly for a moment.

"I'm sorry Evan, please let us talk," Eddie manages to spit out. reading it out loud. Buck holds one hand up to his nose as he reaches out and snatches the card from Eddie's fingertips.

Sure enough, that's the exact message. He can feel his ears burn as an uncomfortable, embarrassed blush heats the tips of his ears and face. Eddie mutters something mean under his breath before storming over to the nearest bin and dropping the flowers in there unceremoniously. Buck watches this, silently thankful for the Alpha doing what he doesn't think he'd be able to bring himself to do.

Bobby slides a look over at him.

"You okay with that, kid?" he asks and Buck nods, and Bobby nods back in understanding. "I take it those were from Tommy?" he asks and Buck turns to look at him, and Bobby's brow creases in worry like he sees something exposed on Buck's face that he hadn't meant to let slip through.

"Buck—" he begins, but Buck stutters out an apology and heads to the locker to get changed.

Their morning is a little slow, Hen and Chim seem to get the most action with a few medical calls. But, just before noon a call comes in.

Two car collision with a vehicle rollover, possible passenger ejection, down an embankment which drops into a ravine. Caller reported that her grandmother had chest pain and had swerved into the oncoming car, pushing the car off the road where it went through the guardrail and disappeared into the bush. Her grandmother had then collided with a tree, a branch going through it and penetrating her chest.

She hadn't been able to get out of her car to see, and, well, she was worried if she left her grandmother that she'd die.

When they got there CHP already had the road closed off. The guardrail was bent outwards like a torn open can. The first port of call was to get Buck and Eddie strapped up to go down and assess the situation. Hen and Chim would be dealing with the with the driver who had a branch through her torso, the passenger was fine bar a few bumps and scrapes.

Eddie was already in his harness when he turns to Buck, reaching for him to test it and make sure the fit of Buck's was correct. He tugs on the shoulder straps before tightening them. Buck thinks maybe that's all he planned on doing before his hands fall to Buck's hips and he tugs on the straps there, sticking to fingers down between the hip strap and Buck's hip to make sure they were tight enough, proceeding to do the same to the other side and adjusting the straps.

And Buck thinks— Surely not.

But then Eddie's hands fall to Buck's thighs and he has to suck in a breath as Eddie squeezes the meat of his thigh before adjusting the straps there too. He looks away from Eddie's big hands on his thighs and looks up to be caught in Eddie's gaze.

"Should I check yours too?" Buck asks a little hesitantly, and Eddie gives him a slow smile.

"Go ahead," Eddie says, pulling his hands away from Buck's thighs as Buck reaches out to test Eddie's harness too, it's perfect of course— Eddie always is.

"Alright you two," Cap calls out, "get yourselves tethered and head down, let us know the condition of the terrain— The wet weather we've been having lately could be a hindrance, we might have to call in air support."

Buck tries not to think about that too much as they're attached to the winch and Chim starts to lower them as they start the slow backwards shuffle over the muddy, loose ground down the slope. Straight from the outset Buck knows they're going to need to call in air support. The ground is too unstable to be traveling a patient with possible spinal injuries up it. They clear the bushes and when Buck sees the crumpled mess that used to be a car his heart drops. There's tiny clothes strewn down the slope, a little stuffed Elephant that Buck almost trips over.

The omega in him flares in worry for the possibility that there was a pup in this accident. It's eerily quiet the closer they get to the car and Buck's not a praying man, but if he were he'd have his hands clasped and face tilted to the sky.

Please, he begs silently, don't let this be a recovery.

When he gets close enough he can make out that there is woman splayed over the bonnet of the car, blond hair covering her face. There's another behind the wheel, she blinks dazedly out the window, blood making the side of her face tacky with it.

"LAFD!" Eddie calls out, and it startles Buck a little, but he keeps going closer, a grim look on his face.

"Have you reached the accident?" Bobby asks through their radio, "How's it looking?"

"We're gonna need the air support Cap," Buck says into his as he and Eddie split to take to either side of the car, he's on the side with the woman that had been ejected. "The terrain is hard to get a foothold on and crumbles with too much weight, be advised there are two victims," he takes a moment to breathe through the worry nagging at him. "And a possible third, we might be looking for a toddler judging by the size of clothes I've seen."

There's a pause, and then.

"Copy that Buckley, do as much as you can to stabilize and standby for air support."

Buck’s boots skid a little as he gets to the car. The woman next to him hasn’t moved, and when he calls out to her there isn’t even a flinch. He crouches beside her and presses his fingers to her neck.

There’s a pulse. Weak—but there.

“Ma’am?” he says, gentler now. “I’m going to get a c-collar on you.”

He fits it carefully, but when there’s still no response he glances over at Eddie, who is cracking the car door open with the jaws. He can’t punch out the windscreen to turn her over until the driver is protected from the fallout.

“I’ll be back,” Buck tells her quietly. “I’ve just got to help my partner.”

He moves to Eddie, pulling his halligan free to help pry the door open once there’s enough space.

Eddie looks over at him, clipping the jaws back onto his harness as he shifts his attention to the driver.

“Ma’am, my name is Eddie Diaz, I’m here to help you—” she blinks at him, face pale. “I’m just going to put a c-collar on you to stabilize your neck.”

Buck passes him one, and Eddie fits it into place.

“M-my name is Kiera,” she rasps, blinking rapidly. “W-where’s Dora?”

“We’ll get to her in a moment, Kiera. Can you try and wiggle your toes for me?”

She tries. The wince that follows says enough.

“Hurts—”

Eddie rests a steady hand on her shoulder.

“Believe it or not, that’s good news. It means you likely don’t have a spinal injury. Now, we’re going to have to break the glass to get your partner out of the windscreen—” he glances at Buck, the question clear. “She has a pulse, but we can’t assess her properly until we roll her onto her back. I’m going to cover you to protect you.”

Buck hands over the emergency blanket.

“How’s your breathing, Kiera?” Eddie asks, eyes already assessing.

“G-good. Leg just hurts.”

“Okay. We’ll be right back.”

They pull the blanket over her before moving back around to Dora.

She still hasn’t moved.

There’s an alarming amount of blood, matting her blonde hair, turning it red and tacky. Her chest rises unevenly—shallow.

They work quickly with their window punches to break the glass. It gives way in sharp cracks, shards falling away from the frame. Luckily, she isn’t pinned in a way that prevents them from moving her, so they carefully roll her onto her back.

Eddie gives her a sternal rub and she jerks under the pressure.

“Dora?” Buck asks, already reaching for the trauma bag.

“N-no—” she rasps, voice wet, almost gurgling. She coughs, and blood spatters across her face.

Then she goes limp again.

“Shit,” Eddie mutters, already pulling his stethoscope on and pressing it to her chest, wincing as he listens.

“Breath sounds diminished on the right,” he says. “Scissors.”

Buck hands them over immediately.

Eddie shears her top open and presses gently along her ribs. Dora twitches faintly even through unconsciousness.

“Broken rib,” he mutters. “Might’ve punctured her lung.” He glances up. “Buck, I’m going to need a lifepak so we can monitor her vitals—and a 14 gauge cannula. 10 ml syringe too.”

Buck’s already moving, handing him the lifepak and helping secure the leads. The machine beeps—too fast.

“She’s tachy,” Buck says under his breath.

Eddie finds the spot between her ribs. Buck, already gloved, cleans the area as Eddie snaps his own gloves on.

Eddie nods once.

Then he goes in.

The needle slides between her ribs—

—and then a sharp hiss of trapped air escaping.

Dora’s chest stutters, then expands.

Eddie exhales, shoulders loosening as her heart rate begins to slow, her breathing evening out just a fraction.

Buck is already setting the oxygen for her, fitting the mask into place.

“Air one will be here in two minutes, boys—how’s it going?” Bobby asks over the radio.

Eddie glances up briefly.

“Driver is pinned under the wheel—possible broken leg, but she’s alert and stable. Passenger had a punctured lung; I’ve done a needle thoracocentesis to re-inflate. Multiple broken ribs, but no obvious penetrating injuries from the glass,” he says. “We’ll get her into a basket and move her away from the vehicle before getting the driver out.”

“Copy that, Diaz. Has the toddler been located?” Bobby asks.

Buck’s gaze flicks up the slope automatically, scanning the scattered debris, the small clothes caught in the brush.

“Not yet, Cap,” he says into the radio. “But we’re keeping an eye out.”

“Copy. Focus on the driver and passenger for now—you’ll have help soon.”

“Copy that, Cap,” Buck replies, lowering the radio as his eyes drag back over the ravine, something tight settling in his chest.

“Is Hadley okay?” Kiera asks, and Buck and Eddie exchange looks. Hadley? Dora must be the missing toddler.

“Hadley’s vitals are stable—we’ll come and help you in a minute, Kiera,” Eddie calls out to her. Buck brings the basket close, and they both lift Hadley into it, strapping her in before each taking an end and moving her away from the car to a stable, even, flat surface. The steady beat of the Lifepak thrums. Her heart rate dips as they set her on the ground, and Eddie curses.

He drops down to his knees beside her, palpating her stomach, eyebrows creased in concern.

“No abdominal bleeding,” he mutters, and Buck is on his knees beside him, trying to help. He’s not sure what to do other than follow Eddie’s instructions.

“Run a line,” Eddie says, holding a hand out as he palpates the rest of her to see what they’ve missed. Buck sets about establishing a line, swapping out his gloves from earlier for new and tugging the tourniquet around her arm so he can find a vein. The best one ends up being in the crook of her elbow, which he quickly places the cannula into. He attaches the IV bag of fluids and squeezes the pack gently to get it started. He watches in apprehension as Eddie puts his stethoscope against her chest, face taut with concentration.

“I’m going to need a bore needle,” Eddie says, hand out. Buck grabs what’s needed, and Eddie pushes the needle into her chest before drawing out blood. When her heart rate only improves a little, he holds his hand out for another syringe, which Buck hands over. All in all, he draws out about 20 ml of fluid before her heart rate picks up to a steady pace again.

The sigh of relief from the man has Buck relaxing his shoulders. He looks around, hearing the steady thrum of helicopter rotor blades cutting through the air. God, thank God—they really needed the extra hands at this stage. Hen and Chim were tied up with the other driver and passengers up on the road. Eddie is talking to him, saying something about Kiera, but the subtle scent of a pup catches his nose and his instincts flare. He can scent the pain—pain—pain on it, and his stomach twists as his eyes dart around them, looking for something—anything—that is out of place.

And then he spots it.

A little foot sticks out of a bush, still with a tiny pair of Vans on it.

He slings the IV bag over a branch near him and ducks under it to get to the bush. He parts the branches, and there—pale-faced, head lolling—is a little girl.

She looks to be around three or four. Her hair, which must have once been in pigtails, is messy and half out. Her face is scratched up, and when he reaches out and she flinches away from him, he can see that one of her pupils is blown.

Fuck.

He coos at her, ripping the scent patch off his wrist and holding the exposed gland out to her. Her little nostrils flare as she scents the omega in his sweet scent, and she holds her own hand out to him, tiny and pale—freckles standing out starkly on her skin.

“It’s okay, Dora,” he says, voice low and comforting. “I’m here to help, sweetheart. My name is Buck. Did you get yourself out of your car seat?”

“Yes,” she answers, little voice small and barely legible as the helicopter comes closer.

“Air one on scene,” comes a clipped voice over the radio. Buck blanches at the sound of it, but ignores it for now.

“Can you tell me where you’re hurting, Dora? I have a pretty good nose on me, and I can tell that you’re in pain.”

“It’s my arm, Mr. Buck,” she says, and when she shows him, he can see by the swelling and odd angle of her forearm that she has a fracture.

“How about your head?” he asks, gently taking her arm in his hand to look it over.

“Hurts,” she says with a whimper, big brown eyes filling with tears. “Really hurts, Mr. Buck.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says, voice louder so he can be heard over the helicopter. “I know.”

He looks up to see someone being lowered into the ravine with them as air buffets the trees and scrubby grass around them.

He gently picks her up, and she moans in pain, which has him cradling her as he carries her over.

Eddie is with Kiera again, and as Buck makes his way over to them, the person being lowered in next to them unhooks from the line before sprinting over.

“We have a critical patient over there,” Eddie yells over the noise. “One still stuck behind the wheel, but she’s alert and doesn’t have a spinal issue—likely a mild concussion with a leg fracture.”

“And a pediatric patient with a concussion and a broken arm,” Buck adds, cradling Dora in his arms.

“Okay, we’ll hook up the critical patient in the basket and take the pediatric one up attached to me,” the paramedic says. When he looks at her properly, he’s surprised to see Lucy Donato. “Tommy will circle around while we get the one stuck behind the wheel out, and then we’ll take her up too.”

“Copy that, Lucy,” Buck says, and she snorts a laugh, squinting at him when she sees him.

After that, things go smoother—thank God—though little Dora is reluctant to let go of Buck. She’s convinced when Lucy takes off her helmet and sunglasses and gets close enough for the little girl to scent that she’s a beta, and she calms down enough to be taken up.

It’s not until they’re halfway through getting Kiera out that Tommy breaks the concentration.

“We’re burning fuel up here,” he barks through the comms, and Buck squints up at the helicopter, flinching a little at the tone of his voice. Eddie seems to clock the movement, and Buck braces himself for the inquisition later.

“We’re going as fast as we can, Kinnard,” Eddie radios back. “We nearly have Kiera out so we can do a splint. Circle around again.”

“I know how to do my job, but thanks, Diaz,” Tommy says.

Which is unprofessional. Lucy must agree with the thought because she shoots a glare up at the helicopter.

They get Kiera out, and she’s fairly good-natured about everything as they hook her up to Lucy and she gets lifted out too. The line goes taut, and she’s lifted up and over the tree line.

There’s nothing but the sound of the rotor for a moment when the radio crackles.

“Air one—stand by for your next patient.”

A beat—

And then—

“We’ll finish that conversation later, Evan,” Tommy’s voice crackles over the radio as he prepares to leave the scene.

Eddie scowls when he sees Buck curl in on himself a little at the parting shot. It was said quietly enough to feel private, but with it over comms, everyone heard it. And it was intentional.

“Air one, keep the comms clear,” Eddie says into his radio, tone flat and controlled. There’s no answer other than the helicopter banking overhead.

Once the helicopter is gone, Eddie turns to him, face clearly concerned, but before he can say anything, Bobby radios them.

“Time to come up, boys. Hen and Chim have left with the critical we had up here, along with their passenger who called the crash in. Pannikar will be supervising the winch as you come up. Be careful on that slope.”

“Copy that, Cap,” Buck says, already picking his way across the terrain, trying to put some distance between him and Eddie as he shoulders the med bag. Eddie catches up to him just in time for the winch to start pulling them up. They work their way up with steady handholds and footholds until they’re both on road level again. Buck silently offloads the trauma kit and then his climbing gear, steadily ignoring the considering looks Eddie shoots his way.

It’s not until later, after Bobby has taken them off active for an hour so they can eat and wash up, that Eddie corners him in the bathroom post-shower. Buck had washed the sticky fear scent off him—or at least he had thought—until Eddie, dark-eyed and worried, pushes him against the tiled wall. His back hits the cold tiles, and he freezes as Eddie pushes into his space, bullying his way between Buck’s legs so he can crowd in as close as possible to Buck’s scent gland.

“Why do you smell like that?” Eddie asks, voice a little growly in a way that has his omega perking up.

“L-like what?” Buck asks, and Eddie hums, rubbing his nose against the gland in a way that has Buck sucking in a tight breath.

“Like fear,” Eddie murmurs.

“T-the rescue was hard—”

“No, don’t give me that. Rope rescues give you adrenaline fear scent—this is cold-sweat fear,” Eddie says, his alpha trying to soothe Buck. Buck sighs in defeat, slouching against the wall.

“I-it’s nothing,” he mumbles.

“It’s not nothing, Buck,” Eddie disagrees, pulling away to look Buck in the eyes. “I thought your breakup went fine. What would Tommy need to talk to you about? I know he hasn’t left anything at your loft, because I was the one who went through and gathered it all for him. Is he harassing you?”

Buck flinches at that last question, shoulders curling in, and Eddie’s face sets into a grim press of lips.

“That piece of shit,” Eddie hisses. “I swear to God, Buck, I will beat his ass—”

“No!” Buck interrupts him. “No, Eddie, you don’t need to beat his ass—he’s just—” Buck hesitates, looking away from Eddie, uncomfortable. “He’s just wanting c-closure.”

Eddie watches him for a moment.

“So you’re going to talk to him when the shift is over?” he asks evenly.

“Y-yeah, I’ve been putting it off because I don’t even know my own feelings about it—”

“I’m coming with you—”

“No! God, Eddie, no, I’ll be okay,” Buck presses. “This is something I need to do on my own. I’ll—uh—I’ll come over after.”

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly. “Okay. I trust you.”

Buck gives him a tremulous smile at that.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s posture softens, and Buck leans back into the wall, suddenly very aware of how close they’re pressed together. He shifts a little awkwardly, because they’re both half-naked and only in towels.

Eddie tilts his head to the side, watching Buck with a look that Buck can’t quite place. He leans into Buck’s space, and Buck bares his neck to him. It feels good as he noses at Buck’s scent gland—and then, much to his horror, Eddie darts his tongue out and licks at it.

“E-Eddie,” he says through a gasp, but Eddie is too alpha hind-brained to respond as he gentles a hand to hold Buck’s neck bared to him, his hand warm against the side of Buck’s face as Eddie licks at the gland again. Buck bites back a moan at the sensation, eyes fluttering closed at the pleasure of it. His scent spikes sweetly, the scent of fear being taken over by something else—something Buck’s not sure he wants to put a finger on yet.

“That—oh—that feels—” he sighs, unable to finish his sentence as Eddie sucks the gland into his mouth.

A moan is punched out of Buck this time at the hot, slick sensation of it, and it seems to startle Eddie out of whatever trance he was in. He pulls away from Buck’s neck with a pop.

His lips are swollen and red, and his face is flushed pink, eyes hooded and golden.

Buck swallows, looking at him.

He’s wet between his thighs, and he shifts a little against the knee pressed between them, grateful, at least, for the towel acting as a barrier between his core and Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie presses his forehead to Buck's and Buck—

He could just—

He could just lean in so easily.

Eddie nuzzles his nose against Buck’s and sucks in a breath before turning away from him abruptly and leaving the bathroom. Buck lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and presses his hands to his face.

What the fuck was that?

Buck scrubs his hands down his face, breath coming out a little jagged.

His skin feels hot where Eddie had touched him—where he had put his mouth on Buck—and it’s like his body hasn’t caught up that Eddie is gone. Like if he leaned forward enough, Eddie would be right there still, his breath hot on Buck’s neck, his mouth—

“No,” he says out loud, and his voice startles him a little in the still aftermath of Eddie leaving.

He pushes himself off the wall and goes to shower off the sweet scent of his arousal and the sticky mess between his thighs.

He still had hours left of his shift.

He could do this.

Right?

By the time he makes it up the stairs to the loft, he’s scrubbed free of scent of his arousal and has blocker patches on. Bobby is prepping for dinner, and Eddie is perched on a stool across from him, chatting to the other man. Hen and Chim are playing something on the TV, and Ravi is drinking a coffee with a book in hand in an armchair.

Buck chews his lip, looking between the two groups before heading to Bobby and Eddie, taking up his usual place beside Bobby in the kitchen. Bobby nods to the cutting board where there’s a pound of potatoes for cutting, and Buck gets to work once he sees the recipe card on the bench.

It’s almost mindless work, and he can’t help the way his eyes flick over to Eddie every now and then as he lets the two men’s voices wash over him. They’re chatting about Chris’s upcoming school camp.

Eddie gestures about something, and Buck can’t help but track the movement with his eyes. He thinks of the way that same hand had cupped his face—held his head in place while he bared Buck’s neck to his mouth.

The way his hot mouth had felt—

Buck jerks, the knife slipping.

A sharp sting—

He hisses, pulling his hand back and popping his finger into his mouth.

“Let me see,” Eddie says gently, tugging at Buck’s hand, and Buck frowns at him—he’s not even entirely sure when Eddie moved in front of him.

“I’m fine,” Buck says around his finger, sounding a little like a grumpy toddler.

Eddie frowns right back and pulls Buck’s hand away from his mouth. Blood wells on his finger, but it’s nothing bad. Just enough to need a Band-Aid.

Eddie tugs him over to the sink, muttering something under his breath about, “Do you know how many germs are in your mouth, Buckley?” and “idiot.”

That last one feels a little harsh.

He helps Buck wash the wound and gently dries it off, crowding him against the sink so he can grab a Band-Aid and wrap it around the injured finger.

Buck tries—maybe a little too hard—not to look at Eddie too closely.

His forehead is scrunched into a frown of concern, brows drawn together as he focuses on Buck’s hand. Then he darts a look up at Buck, catching his eye—locking him into the stare.

It’s kind of—

Maybe—

Not very best-friends of them to get into such deep staring contests like this.

He’s the first to break eye contact. He clears his throat, and Eddie lets his hand drop.

Buck turns back to the counter, moving the dirtied chopping board and knife out of the way, grabbing a new knife and board to resume cutting.

The steady thunk, thunk, thunk of the knife feels loud after the moment that had stretched between them.

Behind him, Eddie lets out a sigh.

Buck tries not to react to it, but he knows he fails when his shoulders stiffen.

Eddie steps in, taking the dirtied cutting board and knife and rinsing them off in the sink. He slots the board into the dishwasher before taking the time to wash the knife by hand—one of Bobby’s rules, since dishwashers dull the knives he likes to keep well sharpened and ready for use.

He dries it before sliding in behind Buck, leaning across his back to slot it into the knife block beside him.

The brief heat of Eddie’s chest pressed against his back almost takes his breath away—

and then it’s gone.

The space behind him feels so empty without it.

Buck tightens his grip on the knife, knuckles bleaching white.

He keeps cutting like nothing happened. Like that brief press of their bodies together didn’t leave him wanting more.

Like it hadn’t left his hands unsteady, like it hadn’t tightened his chest for no good reason.

Like they’re normal.

Eddie brushes past him, heading to the lounge area of the loft to take over for Hen. Buck catches it out of the corner of his eye and tries not to turn his head to watch the exchange.

He finishes cutting and brushes the last of the potatoes into the pot, hefting the heavy thing into his arms to take it to the sink and fill it with water.

Hen sidles up beside him as he uses the pot filler to spray water into it, Buck staring into the swirling water and potatoes as he waits.

“So,” Hen says, dragging the word out.

Buck grunts at her, not really in the mood to play interpreter to Hen’s mind games.

“You good?”

“Jesus, Hen,” Buck huffs, turning from the water to look at her properly. She’s got one eyebrow raised, that look on her face. “Yeah,” he says, distracted—and curse him, he can’t help the way his eyes flicker briefly to Eddie. “I’m good.”

“Mhm,” she hums, disbelieving.

Buck cringes a little at the accusation in the sound.

“What?” he asks, more defensive than he means to be.

Hen just watches him quietly for a second, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m fine,” he insists, softer this time, trying for reassuring.

Hen hums, noncommittal, and pushes away from the counter.

“Alright, if you say so,” she says easily, nodding toward the pot. “But your water’s overflowing.”

“Shit—” Buck curses, turning back and letting go of the lever. The water cuts off abruptly.

He tips some of it out until it just skims over the potatoes, then picks the pot up with a strained grunt—it’s heavier now—and waddles it over to the stovetop.

Bobby already has the other burner going, searing cubed chuck roast for the stew.

Buck sets the pot down on the back burner, turns it on, and tosses in a generous handful of salt.

The afternoon stretches out after that.

It’s a bit of a ‘q’ word afternoon; there are a few medical callouts, but otherwise the big engines don’t get called away. Buck and Eddie get assigned chores together, which Buck tries not to think too much about—this is normal for them.

Buck throws himself into it anyway.

Restocking. Cleaning the rig. Re-folding the sheets in the linen cupboard because he doesn’t like how sloppily shift C did them.

Anything that keeps him moving, he tackles.

It almost works—

Except—

Every time he turns, Eddie is there, hovering.

It’s so obvious that he’s sure even Chim has noticed.

He’s closer than normal, his hand finding Buck’s lower back and waist, steadying him, touching him. It’s like his Alpha has gone into protective mode over him.

Tommy’s passing comment over comms must have spooked him.

Time slips.

The light through the bay doors and high, almost cathedral-like windows shifts. Buck enjoys how it streams through and touches everything in a golden glow until it gets too dark and the lights are flicked on. It bathes the firehouse in that stark, blue LED lighting. It makes his head throb, and if he were being honest, it was making him feel a little overstimulated.

He’s using the huge ricer to break the potatoes down for mashed potatoes, an entire stick of butter going into it along with onion powder and garlic powder for a little extra something. He mixes cream into it and, satisfied, tells Bobby that it’s ready. Cap nods at him and calls for dinner.

Eddie ends up seated next to him, their thighs pressed together.

It is kind of comforting, but when he reaches out to spoon himself some food, Eddie takes his bowl from him and proceeds to heap potatoes and stew into it for him. He’s not mad at it—his inner omega preening at the attention. He can almost vision it rolling over and presenting for Eddie, happy purrs and chirps over being looked after. He clamps down on it, though, thoroughly done with his designation in this moment.

He decides not to comment on it and digs into the savory meat and creamy potatoes.

It’s good. It’s always good, and he lets out a little hum of appreciation at the taste of it.

Eddie watches spoonfuls of food disappear into his mouth, keen eyes fixed on him with rapt attention. It gets to the point where Buck has to nudge him slightly with his knee to get him to start eating his own food.

Eddie seems to shake himself out of it before diving into his own meal.

Their shoulders brush every now and then, and Buck has to tilt away a little because it sends little jolts of electricity down his arm every time it happens—but Eddie leans further into his space.

He’s not entirely sure what’s happening, but it’s maddening.

…Maybe Eddie was going into rut?

But that didn’t make sense.

He wasn’t due for at least two more weeks.

Buck chews on the inside of his cheek, staring off into nothing as he contemplates it.

…Could him licking Buck’s scent gland have set off his rut?

Buck frowns and reaches over to Eddie, pressing the back of his hand against the man’s forehead. Eddie pauses, blinking over at Buck dumbly as he waits for the omega to remove his hand.

Buck tsks and shakes his head, pulling his hand back as he returns to ruminating over what the issue could be.

He isn’t running nearly hot enough for it to be the early stages of rut.

The thought follows him all the way through dinner, and then through the rescue they have to do after— a couple of dumb teenagers got stuck on the roof of an abandoned warehouse. They were lucky the roof held under them; it was in such poor condition.

When they get back, Buck is exhausted. Despite the ‘q’ word afternoon, it’s been a fairly taxing day physically and mentally. He’s ready to fall into bed as soon as he’s had a shower and changed into something comfortable to sleep in.

Eddie showers after him, and Buck finds himself in the bunkroom staring up at the ceiling blankly.

He can’t sleep.

Eddie likes to take long, indulgent showers after a busy day like the one they’ve had. He waits until everybody else is done, then takes advantage of the good water pressure and hot water.

So it’s pushing forty minutes before Eddie comes back and flops into the bunk beside him. Their beds are pushed fairly close together—Hen and Chim had gotten annoyed with them once too often when they’d stayed up later, chatting in whispers that were just loud enough to hear.

Now, with their beds all but pressed together, they don’t have to be quite as loud.

Buck can almost feel the heat of him—they’re that close.

Eddie sighs from his bed. Buck hears the rustle of sheets as Eddie turns, and then he can feel the heat of Eddie’s gaze on the side of his face.

“Can’t sleep?” Eddie murmurs, voice sleep-thick. “You’re usually the quickest to fall asleep.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, voice small. “Something like that.”

He shifts onto his side without thinking about it, facing Eddie properly now.

They’re so close that Buck can make out the shape of his face even in the low light—the line of his nose, the shadow of his lashes, long and curly and enviable with the sooty coloring of them.

It feels like too much.

And not enough.

Buck reaches across the small space between them, tentatively, slow.

He hesitates for a moment, fingers curling slightly against the mattress.

He should pull back. That would be the smart thing to do.

The easy thing to do.

But before he can, Eddie’s large, warm palm slides into his.

Warm. Sure.

Like he knew Buck was reaching for him already.

Buck’s breath stutters out of him.

Their fingers twine together, clumsy for a moment before settling—palm to palm, fingers threaded together in an interlocking pattern of trust and a need to scent each other.

It’s—

God.

It’s—

It’s nothing like earlier, in the bathroom.

There’s no heat, no urgency to it.

Just warm. And safe.

Buck exhales, something inside him loosening from the tight knot Tommy’s earlier threat had tied him into.

He squeezes Eddie’s hand, and Eddie returns the gesture.

They don’t say anything. They don’t have to.

Buck’s eyes drift shut, his hand still held in Eddie’s, tethered to him.

Sleep comes easier after that.

When Buck wakes up, his hand is empty.

This is expected, though—Eddie has always been an early riser, a habit baked into him from his time in the Army.

There’s a little chocolate tucked into his palm, though, and Buck blinks at it blearily, a grin making its way onto his face.

Eddie must have raided their sweets stash and left it there to tide Buck over—and maybe ease the guilt of taking from it. The whole point of it, though, is that it’s there for Eddie to snack on without the others stealing from it. It’s their special stash.

He pops it into his mouth as he sits up, rubbing at his face as he gets his uniform on for the last few hours of their shift. When he makes it into the loft, Bobby already has the bain-maries out, breakfast foods filling them. One has garlic mushrooms, another hash browns—

He catches Eddie juggling two plates, both half full, and takes one from him. Eddie smiles at Buck in greeting, nodding.

“I put a bit of all your favorites on there,” Eddie says, and Buck bites his lip to hide the smile worming its way onto his face. “Made sure you got two hash browns and a heap of garlic mushrooms.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” Buck says, genuinely grateful.

He ignores the way his omega hindbrain gets all fluttery over it.

Alpha takes care of me.

The thought flits through his mind, but he shoves it aside and scoops more scrambled eggs onto his plate before covering them in hot sauce.

Eddie follows him to the table, and they eat pressed together again. This time it’s not awkward or stilted—just comforting.

The morning passes quickly, and before he knows it, his shift has ended. He’s stuffing his clothes into his duffel when Eddie finds him.

“I’ll drive you,” he says, so casually it takes Buck a moment to realize he means him.

“To my place?” Buck asks, even though he knows that’s not exactly what Eddie means.

Eddie’s eyes flick over him, something assessing in his gaze.

“To meet him,” Eddie says, giving him a look that makes him swallow.

Buck nods, a little too hard, a little too stiff.

Right.

Tommy.

“Yeah,” Buck says, voice betraying how nervous he really is. “Okay.”

Eddie frowns at him, watching him a beat too long, and then—

“C’mere.”

It’s not a request, and Buck—because it’s Eddie—obeys.

He follows him out of the locker room and straight into the storage closet. It’s a tight fit, but Eddie presses into his space, hands settling on his hips.

“Eddie—” Buck starts, but Eddie hushes him.

“I’m not letting you go to that man without scent-marking you—”

“—But I’m fi—”

“I swear to God, Buck,” Eddie grits out, giving him a quelling look, “if you say you’re fine, I will have to spank the liar out of you.”

That shuts Buck up.

“Good,” Eddie murmurs, bullying Buck back into the door where he lands with a soft thud. Eddie reaches around him and clicks the lock.

The sound seems to vibrate through his back.

Eddie’s hand finds the small of his waist, and the warmth of it—the size of it—makes Buck’s brain blank of anything but Eddie’s hand.

It makes him want to vibrate out of his skin.

Eddie’s other hand comes up to his jaw, thumb pressing under it to tilt Buck’s head aside, exposing the scent gland. He noses along it first, and the warmth of his breath there makes Buck’s breath shudder out of him.

His mouth presses to it, hot and there—

He hopes—

He wants—

Eddie’s tongue sweeps over his scent gland, making Buck’s head spin.

The hand at his jaw slides down until his wrist gland is pressed against Buck’s, circling firm and tight until Buck’s knees go weak.

“E-Eddie,” he gasps, and Eddie hums low, pleased.

Heat blooms through Buck from the inside out, a buzzing under his skin.

God, he needs—

Eddie nibbles around the gland, and Buck hisses, hips bucking helplessly.

God, he needs—

He hooks his arms under Eddie’s, scrabbling uselessly at the other man’s back as Eddie ruins him.

He bites back a moan, cursing the alpha in his mind for letting him get this wet over this. How dare he be so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes into his neck. “You taste so fucking good, Omega.”

Buck clutches Eddie’s shirt in tight fists, trying not to let that get to him—not to think about what else those words could mean.

Fuck. He is done for. If Eddie keeps going, he’s going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager dry-humping for the first time.

Eddie switches sides, pressing his mouth into the throbbing gland, and Buck tries not to let his eyes roll back at the sensation.

“Eddie—oh—ah!” Buck lets out stifled little sounds before Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, muffling him as he sucks the gland into his mouth. The wet heat nearly pushes Buck over the edge.

His tongue swirls over the scent mark, and Buck’s knees finally give out. Eddie catches him and goes down with him.

“There,” Eddie murmurs, pulling back, eyes bright with Alpha gold. “You smell like you’re mine now.”

And as if that doesn’t devastate him.

He doesn’t know why there’s a melancholy twist of hurt in his chest—just that he wishes this wasn’t happening because Eddie is wary of Tommy.

Once Buck has calmed enough, Eddie helps him to his feet and unlocks the storage cupboard.

He follows Buck out to the parking lot.

The air outside feels too cold, goosebumps rising on his exposed arms.

Or maybe it’s just because Buck still feels like he’s burning from the inside out because of Eddie’s attention.

Eddie follows closely behind him to Eddie’s truck, hand hovering near the small of his back. Buck can feel the heat of him; he’s so close. He wonders when Eddie got this close to him. His fingers tighten around the strap of the duffle bag.

Eddie’s scent wraps around him, mixed with his own, sweetening the fear scent that the thought of meeting with Tommy gave him.

Eddie toggles open the truck and reaches past Buck to open the passenger door for him before heading to the front seat. Buck hops in and throws his duffle into the back at the same time Eddie is hopping into the truck. He chucks his bag beside Buck’s, and Buck has a moment where he can’t help but feel how right it is that they’re together like that in the backseat.

And then they’re off.

It’s a tense drive, made even more tense when Eddie turns into the parking lot of the loft and Tommy is already there.

Leaning against the side of Buck’s jeep like he owns the damn thing. Buck sits in the truck for a moment, gut churning.

“Do you want me to come out and be with you?” Eddie asks gently, and Buck shakes his head jerkily.

“No,” he says, trying to put conviction into his voice. “I’m fine, I’ve got to do this— you know I just hate difficult conversations.” He gives Eddie a wan smile. Eddie returns it, looking worried.

But he reaches out and scents him with his wrist, and Buck holds it to his neck, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“You got this, Buck,” Eddie encourages. “Do you want me to wait here for you or for me to go get some dinner for us?”

Buck blinks open his eyes, stomach rolling.

“Y-yeah, some dinner would be nice. Burgers.”

Eddie nods, and Buck takes it as encouragement to step out of the truck.

Eddie hovers there for a moment, and Buck looks back at him to see him glaring darkly at Tommy. He gives Eddie an encouraging smile, nodding for him to go, and Eddie doesn’t peel his eyes from Tommy as he backs out of his parking spot and peels out of the lot.

“What the hell was that?” Tommy asks, and Buck shrugs, taking what he hopes is a confident step towards his jeep. Tommy’s nostrils flare as he scents Buck, and a scowl takes over his face.

“This is me showing up,” Buck says, trying for steady and landing just shy of it.

Tommy huffs out a laugh, sharp and disbelieving.

“Right,” he says, derision clear in his voice. “Is that why I can scent the stink of Diaz all over you—”

“Why the hell did you slash my tires?” Buck asks, talking over him.

“You can’t prove I did. Besides,” he sneers, “Evan, I would be well within my rights considering my omega is a cheating little bitch— how long have you been fucking him?”

Buck frowns.

“I’ve never slept with him, Tommy,” Buck says. “He scented me because he could smell how upset I was— you—” he cuts himself off, sighing, looking away from the alpha for the first time, eyes finding the sky.

He drags in a breath.

This isn’t what he came here for.

“I didn’t come here to fight you,” Buck says, quieter now. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”

Tommy stares at him for a moment, and his jaw ticks before tightening.

He takes a step closer to Buck.

Buck doesn’t move; he plants his feet, forcing himself to hold his ground.

“What I want,” Tommy says, voice low, “is for you to stop acting like this just… ended out of nowhere.”

“It didn’t,” Buck says immediately. “It ended because I ended it.”

“Yeah?” Tommy snaps, taking another step closer to him. “Or did you just get bored— did Diaz finally give you the time of day? Did he let that pretty hole of yours take his knot?”

Buck’s mouth presses into a thin line, disgust roiling in his gut.

“No, I told you why—” he sucks in a breath, already over this line of questioning. “You just didn’t like the answer, and that’s not on me.”

Tommy scoffs, but it’s sharp.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he asks, stepping closer, crowding Buck. “The way you were pulling away? The way you go running to him every time something went wrong?”

“I didn’t run to him,” Buck argues, but it sounds weak, even to his ears. Tommy wasn’t wrong in that, but Tommy would run to Sal too—it’s not like Buck was alone in this. He should be allowed to go to his best friend.

Tommy laughs, and it’s humourless and bitter.

“Right, you just happened to end up in his bed half the time, huh?”

Buck’s head snaps back towards him, frustrated now.

“I never slept in his bed. We never did anything but be friends— don’t twist it into something it wasn’t. I stayed over at his because he’s my best friend. I slept on the couch because I like spending time with him and Chris in the morning. There’s nothing wrong with that— it’s not like I was ditching you to go be with them,” Buck says hotly. “I stayed there because I feel safe there.”

“Safe,” he hisses, voice low and dangerous. “From me?”

He steps closer, and Buck stumbles back a step.

“You really think I’m the bad guy here?” Tommy asks. “After everything I did for you?”

Buck’s stomach drops.

Tommy’s scent surges, sharp and cold—

Unforgiving.

Run run run run run run

But Buck has backed into the side of his neighbour’s car. He’s boxed in on either side—the two cars on either side of him, Tommy in front, the wall behind him.

“Don’t,” Buck says, and he tries to keep the tremor out of it. He looks from side to side, trying to search for a way out. “Tommy, don’t—”

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Evan.”

The bark lands.

Hard.

His head aches at the pressure of the command pressing into him, and he fights against it with tooth and nail until he is sweating, his breath caught, spine rigid as the compulsion has his head going up and down in a jerky nod.

“Evan.”

Buck’s head jerks up one last time and he’s stuck, statue-still now. His muscles protest against the rigid posture.

“Better,” Tommy murmurs. He steps closer into Buck’s space, too close, and Buck can’t even close his eyes or turn his head away because of the bark.

This is wrong.

This is so wrong.

“N-no—” he slurs, head hurting from the battle he just waged against the alpha bark. “S-stop it—”

“Aw, Evan.” His wrist finds Buck’s neck, and he leans in, pressing his nose to the other side of Buck’s neck, nestling it against his scent mark, sucking in a greedy breath. “You stink of Diaz.”

And then he licks at it.

Buck shudders at the sensation, revulsion, and Buck lets out a moan of distress.

He’s taking his alpha’s scent away from him.

“God, is this what you taste like together?” Tommy grunts. “No wonder Diaz is all over you, you greedy little slu—”

“Hey!” A voice calls, loud and angry.

“Asshole!” Tommy looks back at the voice, startled, and a hand drags Tommy back from Buck and throws him out into the lot, using the momentum to turn and swing, landing a punch to Tommy’s gut.

The alpha bark breaks the hold it has on Buck all at once.

Buck drops.

His knees hit the tarmac hard, his hands catching him just before his face follows. His lungs seize, and then he’s dragging in sharp, panicked gasps of air that don’t feel like they’re helping.

Sounds rush back in all at once—the sound of the scuffle in front of him, someone swearing—

“Don’t you ever,” Eddie says, voice low and lethal, “touch him again.”

Buck blinks hard, vision swimming, trying to focus.

Tommy staggers back, crouched over, holding his gut as he makes strained noises that tell Buck he was winded.

He tries to straighten, but doesn’t quite manage it, still stuck in a half-bent hunch as he glares over at Eddie.

“You don’t get to—” he starts to say, but Eddie cuts him off.

“I get to do whatever the hell I want when you put hands on him,” Eddie snaps, stepping into Tommy’s space again, and Buck is suddenly reminded that Eddie was part of an illegal fighting ring years before. He’s all graceful lines as he stalks towards Tommy, but there’s power in his stance—a barely contained violence.

Eddie Diaz isn’t a violent man; he’s one of the best people Buck has ever met—

But it’s a known thing that scenting an omega without their consent was assault, and when you cross lines like that in front of Eddie—well. He had a protective streak a mile long.

Tommy wipes at his mouth and spits on the ground, his eyes flickering past Eddie to find Buck, still on the ground.

“You think this means anything?” he hisses. “You think slapping your scent all over him makes him yours?”

Eddie stills.

And then—

“Yes,” he says, and there’s not even a moment of hesitation in his voice, just a quiet and deadly certainty that has Buck’s heart in his throat. “It does.”

Buck blinks at him, god, he wants—

Tommy laughs, but it’s strained and brittle at the edges. “He’s not your omega.”

Eddie steps closer, forcing Tommy back a step.

“Then why is my scent all over him, Kinnard?” he asks, and, shaking his head, he lets out his own laugh. “You know, I wouldn’t have to use my designation to get anything I want from him, because I respect him, and he can trust that I would never abuse that because I’m a small-dicked piece of shit.”

Tommy’s jaw tightens.

“That wasn’t—”

“That was an alpha bark,” Eddie cuts him off. “You don’t get to pretend that you didn’t just alpha bark him into obeying you and then used his own body against him to touch him without permission.”

Silence follows that sentence, and the air coils tight between them, tension high.

Buck’s fingers curl against the asphalt, grounding himself, heart still racing—

Eddie doesn’t look away from him.

“Come near him again,” Eddie says, voice dropping lower, rougher, “if you call him, if you so much as think of touching him again—”

Tommy scoffs.

“You’ll what?” he asks, bitterly.

“I won’t stop at one punch,” Eddie says, cocking his head to the side. “And Kinnard, I have connections—I have no doubt Athena Grant would have something to say about the omega of the pack being abused by someone he was supposed to be able to trust.”

That lands.

Tommy visibly recoils; he’d been on Athena’s bad side one too many times, clearly.

He studies Eddie for a long moment, calculation flickering behind his eyes. His gaze finds Buck again—lingering, possessive, and ugly.

Buck flinches.

Eddie steps sideways, blocking his line of sight.

“Leave,” Eddie tells him, tone brokering no argument.

Tommy exhales sharply through his nose, tension coiled tightly in his shoulders. For a moment, it seems like he might push it.

Then—

“Fine,” he mutters, stepping back. “You can have the little slut.”

The words are meant to sting, and they do, but not in the way that Tommy wants them to. Eddie doesn’t even react to it; he just stares Tommy down until the alpha backs away and leaves, peeling out of the parking lot at an alarming speed.

The tension snaps.

Eddie turns, immediately coming to Buck, falling to his knees beside him.

His hands find Buck’s shoulders, warmth radiating from his grip on Buck.

Buck sucks in the first full breath since everything happened.

“Hey, hey—look at me.”

Buck tries; it takes a second, but his eyes find the warm, honey-brown of Eddie’s. The soft request, rather than a harsh bark, aids in that.

There’s nothing but concern in them, and Buck finds himself relaxing into the hold, hands a little shaky as they find Eddie’s chest. His fingers curl into the soft, worn cotton of Eddie’s top, and it soothes him.

“You with me, bud?” he asks, voice soft.

Buck nods, but it’s jerky.

“Yeah,” he manages after a long moment of silence, voice rough. “Yeah, I—”

His breath hitches.

Eddie’s hand slides up and finds Buck’s cheek, which he cups, wiping at an errant tear Buck hadn’t known had escaped him.

“You’re okay,” he says firmly. “He’s gone—I’ve got you.”

Buck swallows.

“He—” his voice falters. “He used—”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, voice a low burr of comfort, thumb sweeping over his cheekbone. “I know.”

Buck’s hands tighten in Eddie’s shirt.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, gentle. “Let’s get you up.”

He doesn’t rush him, just waits until Buck feels stable enough to stand on his own two legs. He sways, but Eddie’s there, and he helps Buck by slipping Buck’s arm over his shoulder to steady him as they make the trek towards Eddie’s truck.

He helps him into it, then steps away from the truck to make a couple of phone calls before coming back. He reaches around Buck and clicks him into his belt.

“I called a tire service for you, and then Bobby so that someone would be there when they came around. He has all of your info and knows where to find the keys,” Eddie tells him. “I take it he did that too? Slashed your tires?”

Buck nods, and Eddie curses.

“That piece of shit,” he hisses. “If you want, I can call the cops.”

Buck shrugs, uncomfortable with the idea of involving police. He’s had worse from people trying to exert their control over him just because he’s an omega. They see this big, strong omega and they see him as a challenge.

It was par for the course in his life.

He doesn’t tell Eddie that.

“I just want to go home,” Buck mumbles, looking up from his hands and into Eddie’s eyes again. “Your home.”

Eddie’s face softens at the admission, and he nods.

“Then let’s get you home,” he says softly, cupping Buck’s cheek and gently guiding his face towards him so he can search his eyes. “Do you want me to scent you?”

“Ye-yes,” Buck says, and Eddie smiles at him. He presents his wrist, and Buck exposes his scent mark to him, neck bared. There’s a prickle along his skin under Eddie’s gaze, but it only lasts a moment before he presses his wrist to Buck’s scent mark. He makes slow, grinding circles over the area, and once satisfied, turns Buck’s head to the other side and scents him there too.

But the scent doesn’t hold, and Eddie frowns, tugging Buck toward him.

“Can I put my mouth on you, Omega?” he asks, and Buck makes a soft noise, nodding.

“Yes.”

Eddie leans into him, mouth catching over Buck’s scent mark, lips pressing into it, rubbing across it. Buck hums, eyes fluttering closed, and Eddie laps at the marks. There’s nothing charged about it—just a gentle claiming, tongue warm and wet, licking away the stink of Tommy. When he’s done, he nuzzles into it with his nose to scent him and make sure it takes.

It does.

He sighs in relief and pulls away from Buck, leaving a diffusing warmth behind him.

The moment is ruined a little when he steps away from the car and spits onto the ground.

Buck looks at him questioningly.

“Kinnard tastes disgusting,” he chokes, and Buck cracks a half-smile. “How did you stand it?” he asks seriously, and Buck lets out a startled laugh at the question.

“I think maybe it’s a little different when you’re an Omega,” he says in response, “but believe me, you taste so much better.”

Eddie’s face does something strange at that—something possessive flickers there—and it doesn’t disgust Buck the way it had when it was Tommy leveling that kind of look at him. It makes him feel electric. His Omega, who had been quiet, perks up at it.

He shoves it back down again and watches as Eddie shakes his head, laughing.

“Buck, I don’t think that’s the compliment you think it was. Anybody tastes better than him.”

Buck gives him a wry smile.

“But nobody tastes as good as you, Eddie.” His Omega hindbrain breaks out, and he finds the words have escaped him before he can shove them back down. Eddie looks at him, a little startled, and then tilts his head, giving Buck a loaded look.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he says, voice a little gravelly in a way that has Buck squirming in his seat.

He gently closes the door for Buck and then heads to the driver’s side, pulling it open and hopping in. He starts the truck, pulls his seatbelt on, and then pulls out, heading to his place.

It’s not, for LA at least, a particularly long drive—everyone is technically at work, so the traffic isn’t as awful as it could be.

Eddie chances looks at him every now and then, but otherwise they sit in fairly companionable silence. His hand finds Buck’s knee at some point, and Buck leans into the touch, secretly thrilled by it and needing it all in the same breath. The contact helps ground him, helps melt away the tension left over from the confrontation with Tommy.

“Your breakup went worse than I think it did, didn’t it?” Eddie asks, voice quiet.

Buck presses his lips together at the thought of it.

“No,” he says eventually. “He, uh, he flooded my loft with his scent and backed me into a corner, kept trying to alpha bark me into explaining why I was leaving him—” He swallows heavily at the memory, closing his eyes briefly against the flash of it. Tommy had loomed over him while Buck ground his hands into his ears, trying to resist the bark. He found the pain helped pull him out of it.

“I, uh, I resisted, but one of my neighbours could scent him even out in the corridor, and he called the police. Tommy was escorted out, and—” Buck looks over at Eddie, shrugging. “He was escorted out by police.”

“He kept coming back?” Eddie asks gently.

“Y-yeah. It’s kinda why I’ve been staying with you and Chris a lot.”

He murmurs that last bit, but Eddie catches it anyway.

“I figured something was wrong—but you hid it well, and I thought you were just lonely.” Eddie sighs. “I wish you’d told me,” he presses, and Buck bites his lip.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he says, voice small now. “I don’t know, Tommy got into my head and made me feel like I was hanging around you and Chris too much, like it was weird and I was bothering you. I tried to tell him you don’t mind, but he—”

He can’t quite finish the sentence.

“He was trying to isolate you, Buck,” Eddie says. “A lot of what I’m hearing—and what you’ve been telling me—it sounds like coercive control.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, voice thick. “Yeah, I, uh, I looked a lot into it once I was out of there, you know? Everything I read was like, ‘Oh, this happened to me,’ but I kept trying to downplay it.”

“Well,” Eddie says eventually, “I’m sorry you went through all of that, Buck. I wish I had seen it earlier, but I’m— I’m thankful you got out before it escalated. Just know, if you ever want to press charges or get a restraining order filed—you are protected by the Omega Rights Center, and I will be there for you every step of the way.”

“I, uh—” Buck blinks, shaking his head. “I guess so. I’ve been keeping track of when he ambushed me at the loft, a-and my neighbour said he’s been keeping an eye out for it too. Uh, I should have taken a picture of my tir—”

“I already did,” Eddie says.

“Thanks, Eds. I screenshotted all the messages he’s sent me and how often he’s tried calling and left messages. I think—maybe soon, just not—”

“Not now?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah, not now.” Buck rubs at his face, and Eddie squeezes his knee. “B-but soon. Tonight I just want his scent off me. My Omega is climbing walls inside me.”

"Yeah," Eddie rumbles from beside him, low in his throat like a purr caught on something headier. "You're not alone in that."

Buck looks over at him, but Eddie is watching the road. He rubs a soothing thumb over Buck's knee, and Buck has never been more aware of Eddie's touch.

The truck turns onto Bedford, tires crunching softly over the uneven asphalt, and Buck can feel himself relax further into the seat at the familiarity of it. Eddie turns into his driveway and pulls to a stop, and Buck feels like a weight has lifted from his shoulders. The tight coil in his chest easing in a way that it hadn't even in the truck.

Eddie doesn't move right away.

The engine idles.

It's like Eddie is gathering himself up for something, like there's something inside him that wants to come out, but he's too stuck in his thoughts to break free of it. Buck nudges him a little, letting himself lean into him with his shoulder. Eddie lets out a breath, like he hadn't realized he'd been holding it.

His hand migrates up to Buck's thigh, grip warm, steady—almost possessive as he squeezes it.

It isn't a pushy kind of possessiveness, it's grounding, and it—

Buck swallows, eyes flickering down to it and then back up at Eddie.

There's a look in his eyes that Buck's not sure he wants to name just yet, because if it's anything like what is building inside him—

It's going to change them forever.

"You good?" Eddie asks, voice in that soft cadence that always soothes Buck.

It's like he already knows the answer.

Buck nods anyway.

"Yeah," he says, and it's not a lie—he knows he's going to be fine. He's with Eddie, he's at their Eddie's den. All he's known is safety there, and today isn't any different.

He's always going to be safe with Eddie.

Eddie's hand shifts slightly, pressing between Buck's thighs so he can squeeze the flesh there—Buck feels it everywhere.

He's suddenly too aware now.

Of the cab.

Of the closeness.

Of the way Eddie's scent settles over him and mingles with his own, the taste of both of them settling onto his tongue when he pulls a breath in, into the back of his throat.

He feels claimed by it.

His Omega stirs at the thought, stretching out like a pleased cat after bathing in the sun.

Fuck.

He wants—

"C'mon," Eddie murmurs, and his voice sounds as thick as the taste of sweetening citrus and peach with amber rounding it out in the back of his throat.

He withdraws his hand from between Buck's legs, and Buck finds himself longing for it to come back.

He cuts the engine and leaves the truck, leaving Buck to gather his wits again.

The back door of the truck opens before Buck reaches for his own, and Eddie pulls his bag out, shouldering one and carrying the other in his hand. Buck is already stepping towards the door.

"Inside," Eddie says, hand pushing at the small of Buck's back.

It lingers there like it's where it belongs (and it is, oh god, it is), gently guiding Buck towards the door. When they get to it, Eddie reaches past him, pushing his keys into the lock to open it.

It opens with a quiet click, and the moment they step inside, the air shifts between them.

Warm and charged.

Buck lets out a shaky exhale, tension slipping from him—there might be electricity sparking between them, but he's home now.

Behind him, the door closes, and the lock engages.

It's a solid, final sound.

Eddie doesn't move away from him, merely drops the bags to the floor.

He's close enough that Buck can feel the heat of him against his back, and it's like he can feel Eddie's alpha beneath the surface, so close to him—

Everywhere.

He can feel him everywhere.

"Take your shoes off," Eddie says, voice just above a soft murmur. He reaches past Buck and absently hooks his keys onto the key hook near the door.

Buck does it automatically, the need to obey this man hardwired into him—and not even about being an Omega. It's a Buck-and-Eddie thing; he gets a thrill from being good for Eddie.

Especially after being a brat.

Eddie gets this tone to his voice that sends a strange shot of adrenaline up Buck's spine when he's pushed just a little too far.

He sets his shoes on the rack and straightens to find Eddie watching him again.

There's that look again, like there's something hot banked behind those eyes, just waiting for the right moment.

Buck's pulse jumps in his throat.

"Eddie," he says, and it comes out breathier than he means it to.

Eddie's jaw tightens, just briefly.

Like he hears everything Buck isn't saying. He takes a step closer to Buck, just short of touching him, giving him a choice.

But not really.

The space between them feels like a live wire.

Eddie leans in, nose finding Buck's neck as he scents him there.

"Still there," Eddie mutters, more to himself than to Buck. There's an edge to it—something dark and possessive that curls hot in Buck's core. "I didn't get it all."

Buck's fingers twitch at his sides.

"Please," he exhales.

"I know," Eddie murmurs, his voice hot on Buck's skin, and Buck's knees nearly give out beneath him.

"I'll get his stink off you, baby." The words are followed by the press of lips to Buck's scent gland, and Buck—

Fuck.

He shouldn't be so turned on by being called baby. He'd been called it at so many different points of his life that it shouldn't feel like anything—but coming from Eddie?

It has him hot and slick between his thighs.

Buck shifts—just slightly—and his scent rolls up between them, warm and sweet with his wanting.

Eddie must be able to scent it now, because he breathes a "Fuck" into Buck's neck.

And then the restraint Eddie had held onto so tightly breaks.

He palms the back of Buck's head, pulling him away from his neck so he can rest his forehead against Buck's. Buck wants to melt into the alpha, wants his scent spilled all over him—the spice and citrus glazing the amberwood of it.

Buck needs it on him, he needs it in him.

Eddie's scent spikes, and Buck flutters his eyes open, not even sure when they closed—Eddie's eyes bleed that alpha gold, bright and there and oh—

He's in rut.

"Eddie—" Buck gasps, and Eddie closes his eyes.

"I know, I'm sorry— Buck, if you need to leave, you know where my key—"

"No," Buck says. "I'll stay if you will have me. I— I want to look after you. You've looked after me for so long, I need—"

"Don't feel obligated," Eddie interrupts, his voice strained, like the tight control he has on his alpha is slipping.

"I want it," Buck breathes. "I need it, Eddie— I—I know this is going to change everything, but I—"

His words are cut off by the press of Eddie's lips against his.

Buck is still for a moment, and he could count the lashes fanning out over Eddie's cheekbones, they're so close, and—

His eyes flutter closed.

And he melts.

It hits him all at once— the fizz of it. Like champagne bubbles bursting on his tongue, sharp and sweet. The feeling bubbles up in him, effervescent and rising every time Eddie brushes his mouth against his. Buck leans into it, chasing it, needing more of it— deeper. He needs Eddie on him— needs him sunk into his skin.

It feels sparkling and electric.

He makes a desperate noise against Eddie's mouth, and the alpha pushes him against the doorjamb, knee driving between Buck's legs. He drags one of Buck's legs up over his hip, grinding into him. Buck—

He breaks the kiss, head falling back against the doorjamb with a soft thud, exposing his neck as he whimpers, the noise ringing out in the quiet of the house.

"Fuck—" Eddie groans, his mouth finding Buck's throat. He bites and sucks at the exposed flesh, marring the skin with red marks. "—Gotta, Buck, I gotta—"

"What?" Buck asks through a gasp. "What is it? Whatever it is, it's yours, alpha—"

"Oh fuck, Buck, I need to scent-mark you. My alpha is riding me, sweetheart. I gotta rub my come into that pretty fucking throat of yours."

"Oh," Buck manages, eyes rolling back slightly as Eddie bites around his scent gland. "Wha— What do I need to do?"

Eddie presses his forehead against Buck's shoulder, sucking in steadying breaths.

Buck curls a hand into Eddie's hair, soothing his fingers through the thick strands.

"I—" Eddie drags his head up so he's looking at Buck properly, the gold of his alpha eyes making Buck's head spin. "—I need— fuck, I need you on your knees, baby, please—"

Buck switches their position and lands on his knees so fast they crack against the floorboards.

He doesn't even wince, can't do anything but look up at Eddie. He has a flush high on his cheeks, eyes gold with his Alpha riding him.

He looks fucking beautiful.

Buck reaches for Eddie's pants, eyes still caught on Eddie's as he fumbles with the fly for a moment before it comes undone.

He gets hit with Eddie's scent, the citrus, spice, and amberwood so strong Buck finds it hard not to lean into it and bury his face into the crease of Eddie's thigh.

"Pull me out, Omega," Eddie commands him, voice a rumble.

Buck's eyes flutter as he reaches out and drags Eddie's jeans down with his underpants. He wants to look, but he can't quite bring himself to, all of a sudden shy.

"Look at it, Buck," Eddie murmurs, sweetly threading his fingers through Buck's curls. The tug of his hair has him leaning into the touch like a cat starved for affection, butting his head up into Eddie's hand. Eddie tightens his fingers in Buck's hair, and he gently directs Buck's gaze down.

Fuck, it was unfair how fucking pretty Eddie's dick was.

He reaches out a hand to gently curve around the other man, the soft skin under his fingers silky and warm. There's a drool of pre dripping from the tip, the pretty flushed mauve head of it peeking out from velvety soft foreskin. He moans at the sight of it and slides his hand up Eddie's length. The peak of the head of Eddie's cock disappears and then reappears again, and Buck finds himself wanting to lean forward and press his mouth to the tip of it.

The thick vein running along it throbs in his hand as he fucks it up and down Eddie's cock, and god, he has to taste him.

He leans in and captures a drop of pre on his tongue, the flavor of it a burst. Slightly salty, but no mistaking the citrus and spice of it. He dips his tongue into the circle of skin protecting the head and laps at the glans there.

Eddie clenches his hand tighter in Buck's hair, and Buck looks up at his alpha, making sure their eyes are connected as he swallows the head of Eddie's cock.

"Oh god," the moan that punches out of Eddie is a broken, guttural thing. His hips twitch, pushing his cock further into Buck's mouth, and Buck hums encouragingly. Eddie sighs, and it sounds a little like relief as he fucks into Buck's mouth, stopping short of his gag reflex. Buck's thighs tense, the wet ache at his core pulsing at how absurdly hot this whole thing is. The Omega in him is preening, loving that his Alpha is using him the way God intended—because how else would he have wanted him if not on his knees before Eddie? Letting him fuck into his mouth?

Wasn't that a sort of worship in and of itself?

Eddie must sense that he's getting too in his head, and he taps a hand against his cheek.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he says, "need you here with me, need to—fuck—need to have those fucking eyes on me, need you to stay with me so you know how thoroughly fucking claimed you will be."

Buck obeys, of course he does.

He wants to obey Eddie, and Eddie doesn't have to force him into obedience with a bark, he could do that all on his own just by being Eddie.

"Look at you," Eddie growls out, voice thick. "So fucking gorgeous like this, so fucking pretty for me, Omega."

Buck makes a keening noise from the back of his throat.

"Oh, I know, baby, you're so fucking good for me, taking my cock in your mouth like this—letting me fuck into those dick-sucking lips of yours." He pets Buck's face, thumb catching tears and wiping them away.

Buck looks up at him with pleading eyes, wanting to feel him in his throat, and as though Eddie can read his mind, his face softens slightly from the tense lines of his pleasure.

"You need me in your throat, huh? Don't you, kitten?" he asks teasingly, patting a palm against Buck's cheek. Buck moans at the treatment, and Eddie smiles.

"You're a fucking star, Buck, I'm so lucky you're letting me do this, baby," he tells him, and it's almost reverent. "Ready?"

Buck replies in the only way he can—he taps Eddie's leg twice.

Eddie pushes forward, and Buck opens his mouth as wide as he can, tongue pressed down by the girth of Eddie's cock as he fucks into the tight clutch of Buck's throat. Buck gags a little on it and Eddie pulls back slightly before fucking into it again, slower, slower. Buck braces for it, and when it breaches his throat he gags just a little, less than before, and Eddie takes it as permission to push in more. Buck breathes through his nose and swallows reflexively around Eddie until his nose is pressed against Eddie's pubes. He nuzzles his nose into them a little, the scent of Eddie thick there.

They stay there like that for a moment, long enough for Buck to fall into the buzzy silence in his head. He's pretty sure he's in a pheromone high, with how everything feels so intense and yet so—he's not sure how to explain it exactly, just that everything sparkles.

But that might be the lack of oxygen.

He shifts his thighs against each other, his pants starting to feel almost uncomfortable with how wet he is. His scent swells between them.

Eddie withdraws from Buck's throat just enough to let him breathe before fucking into it again. Eddie curses above him, and every thrust of his hips into Buck's mouth is punctuated by a breathy noise of pleasure.

"I can scent how wet you are for me," Eddie groans. "Good Omega, my good fucking boy."

He pulls from Buck's mouth abruptly, and Buck finds himself gasping, coughing a little, a string of spit still connecting them.

"I'm so close, Buck," Eddie tells him, and there's an urgency to his voice. "Have you got lube?"

"No," Buck murmurs, voice wrecked from the throat-fucking he just got.

"Just—just use my slick—th-there's so much of it, Eddie."

Eddie's golden eyes burn brighter, if possible.

"Got enough there for me to fuck your pretty tits with?" he asks huskily, hand tilting Buck's face up by his chin gently.

Buck shivers at the visual that conjures up, and nods eagerly.

"Strip then," Eddie tells him, letting go of his face and Buck tugs his shirt off and scrambles to pull his pants down. He shoves his hand between his legs and moans at the relief of having some kind of touch—some kind of pressure there.

He soaks his hand immediately, and he cups it, letting slick pool into the palm of his hand from where it drips from his needy cunt. When he's done he holds his hand out to Eddie as though for approval.

"Good boy," he says, dipping his fingers into it so he can slick his cock up. "Now rub the rest on your tits."

Buck takes his hand and drips the rest of his slick over his chest; it leaves them shiny and wet.

"Press them together," Eddie hisses, still tugging on his cock. "Show me how pretty they will look with my dick between them."

Buck does, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at Eddie.

"So fucking beautiful," Eddie breathes. "Think you can sit up on your knees a little for me?"

"Y-yeah," Buck answers, sitting up higher on his knees. He's a little confused as to why until Eddie shuffles in closer to Buck, and his dick is the right height to slip between Buck's pecs.

He taps it between them, and there's something thrilling about the heavy slap of it, the way it squelches in the slick that Buck had coated his chest in. Eddie presses his hands over Buck's and pushes them together more, creating just enough of a passage for Eddie to fuck his cock between them.

"That's it," he murmurs, using his thumbs to push his cock down to keep it from slipping out. "Thread your fingers over them, keep my cock right where it's supposed to be for me, baby."

Buck shifts his hands up and laces his fingers together as Eddie shifts his thumbs over Buck's knuckles in an almost stray-thought kind of way.

The little gesture makes the breath stutter in Buck's chest.

"Jesus," Eddie breathes, "that's beautiful, baby, look at you—" he almost grunts, and he fucks up into them, his eyes tracking the slick slide of his cock there, the way his head peeks out from between the cushion of Buck's tits.

The alpha's knot is swelling now; it bumps against the underside of his pecs, and knowing it's not even full yet makes him drip between his thighs at the idea of locking around it as Eddie pumps him full of come.

Buck thrills at the thought of it, the Omega in him forcing a noise from him.

Eddie smiles around a moan as he fucks his cock between Buck's tits, the slick sound and squelch making Buck duck his head to watch. He leans down and tries to touch his tongue to the head of Eddie's cock, only getting it every other surge upwards, but it's enough.

"Spit," Eddie says with a groan, "spit on the head of my dick, Buck." He pushes between Buck's tits, pressing as far up as he can so Buck can let spit dribble onto the head of his cock, it flooding over it, and Eddie presses them together even tighter as his hips grind up into the space, Buck ducking his head again, tongue extended so that it touches the mushroom tip. It taps against it with every one of Eddie's thrusts now as the Alpha puts more power behind them.

"Gonna come, baby," Eddie groans, his hips stuttering. "Look at me, let me see those eyes while I mark you up, Omega."

And Buck looks up.

It seems to be what does Eddie in, because with his next thrust up he lets out a low growl. Come splashes against Buck's chin and settles into the hollow of his throat, thick and creamy between his tits as Eddie fucks his spend between them until he's panting and loose-kneed.

He lets himself fall to his knees in front of Buck, nearly in his lap, until Buck shuffles back a bit to give him a little room. His jeans look tight around his thighs, but he seems to pay it no mind as the bright gold of his Alpha eyes focus on the mess his come makes on Buck's skin.

He reaches out wordlessly and gathers the mess onto his fingers, rubbing it into Buck's neck, dipping into the hollow of his throat to gather the come pooling there too. He reaches up and rubs his covered fingers into Buck's scent gland.

Buck just tilts his head to the side to allow for it, eyes half-mast as he watches his alpha patiently, knowing he needs to do this to get any sort of semblance of control again. Knowing every trace of Tommy needs to go so that the Alpha can feel that his Omega is safe in his den.

Vulgar, as it was, it heated Buck's skin and made him feel… proud.

Proud to wear Eddie's scent like this.

Smeared across his skin, sticky and so purely Eddie, he finds his purr rumbles out of him at the heady sensation of it.

Eddie goes to withdraw his hand, but Buck catches it in his, and he licks the remains of Eddie's come off his fingers, moaning at the flavor.

Eddie tugs his clean hand away, and there's something on his face that makes Buck pause.

Something in Eddie's expression gives.

It's subtle, barely there—but Buck sees it.

Like he's made a decision, and he knows it will change everything. It feels like they're on the precipice of something, and it makes Buck's chest feel tight.

And then Eddie's moving.

The kiss lands hard, their teeth clack, and Buck gasps into it—

—but Eddie doesn't pull back from it.

He chases it.

It's so fucking hungry—all teeth and tongues, like Eddie had been starved for it for so long that he doesn't know how to be gentle with it anymore. This wasn't just a kiss, it was possessive. It was claiming.

One hand fists into Buck's hair, the other finding his waist, spanning to the small of his back—warm and grounding—and Buck feels it everywhere; the press of his palm, the drag of his calloused skin on his waist. Buck could map out every little scar on Eddie's hand from touch alone as it slides from his side to his back.

The contrast gives Buck a delicious shiver, the heat, the way Eddie's skin feels against his.

The way the soft cotton of Eddie's shirt grazes against Buck's chest.

His mouth opens, tongue tangling with Buck's, dragging a rough noise out of both of them. It makes his knees feel weak, his back arching into Eddie.

Buck finds himself clamoring into Eddie’s lap, his pants halfway down his ass making it awkward, clumsy—

Eddie growls and doesn’t let him struggle through it.

His hands catch Buck’s hips and haul him the rest of the way up, dragging him fully into his lap in one sharp movement, using the momentum to press Buck down onto the floor behind him, knees bracketing Eddie’s hips.

It happens so fast it punches a stunned sound out of Buck—something breathless and startled—and Eddie takes it as permission, grip tightening as he drags Buck’s pants the rest of the way down.

They're too frantic to get hands on skin; they don't even care that it gets stuck, hooked around Buck's foot. Eddie rubs the head of his dick against Buck's pussy, and it feels like this is the moment where they should slow it down, but they're too fucking desperate.

He pushes into Buck, just pulling back enough from their kiss to watch Buck's face with that intense, golden glow as he does so. Buck's mouth falls open, but no sound escapes him because the sound has been stolen from him by the thick press of that alpha dick into him.

Eddie's still fully dressed. They're in the fucking foyer of the house, Buck pressed into the wooden floor that he knows they hadn't swept in two days.

And he doesn't care.

He doesn't fucking care.

All that matters in this moment is Eddie's cock splitting him open, stealing the air from his lungs, ruining him for every other alpha cock for the rest of his fucking life. He doesn't think he will ever get over this sensation, doesn't think anything else could ever eclipse it.

It's like he's being claimed, piece by piece, and he doesn't know how to stop it—doesn't want to stop it.

He has to bite down on the need to beg for Eddie's bite. He's pretty sure he'd have pierced through his lip if Eddie hadn't tugged it from between his teeth.

"Mine."

It was so possessive.

Not like Tommy had made it feel—suffocating.

This is—

God.

This is so overwhelming Buck can't keep the keen from working its way out of his throat. Eddie withdraws and then fucks into him again, and Buck hiccups at the sensation.

He doesn't give Buck his litany of dirty talk he'd been giving him earlier; it's almost silent if not for the sound of his cock squelching in and out of Buck's sopping wet pussy. The little noises it pulls from Buck—the sighs, the hitched breaths, the punched-out ahs.

The sound of Eddie moaning with helpless pleasure as he takes Buck apart bit by bit.

Buck wants to drag him back into a kiss, but the alpha's eyes have him pinned, like all he can do is lie there and take it, be at the mercy of Eddie.

And God, is it mercy.

He doesn't draw it out, doesn't try to make it last—he's too feral for that. Too focused on knotting Buck, on claiming him in every way possible.

He just fucks into Buck in rolling thrusts, ones that have his balls slapping against Buck's ass and Buck's slick splashing out around his cock. Between his thighs is a fucking mess, but it's worth it.

Buck is the first to break the silence between them.

Eddie thrusts into him hard and then grinds into him for a moment, panting as he does so. His knot is pressed against the rim of Buck's pussy, and he needs it inside him. Needs to feel the type of full that only comes from being knotted.

"F-fuck, Eddie," he says, voice breathless and tight. "Your cock is so fucking—ah—so fucking good inside me, need you to knot me." Eddie presses into him harder now, his knot catching as he fucks into Buck. "Please, please, Alpha—knot me, knot me, knot m—"

Eddie's knot catches and expands and fuck, it's so big, it's so fucking big. He imagines that this is what having two cocks in you must feel like; he feels so full of it.

Eddie lets out an animalistic sound as he comes, a vein popping on his forehead as he grinds into Buck, slipping a hand between them so he can grip Buck's omega cock in his fist and slick it up and down once, twice, before Buck's back arches high and he tumbles over the edge with Eddie. Buck lets out a high keening wail of noise at the pleasure of it, vision shattering into tiny starbursts of color as Eddie pumps him full of come.

When he's finished, he falls to the floor, boneless and supine beneath Eddie, the alpha finally leaning down to kiss him again.

It's so soft this time—they've shared all of three kisses, each with their own kind of intensity, but this one is so soft and sweet, Eddie coming back to himself as he laves sipping kisses on Buck's lips. It's like every press of lips revitalizes him; the gold from his eyes is gone by the time they flutter open again.

He pulls back, bracketing his elbows on either side of Buck so he can look down at him with clear eyes.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Eddie breathes, mapping every inch of Buck with his eyes.

Buck lets out a murmur of a laugh.

"You are too," he replies, because there's not much else he can say. Eddie is gorgeous, he's always been gorgeous, but God, like this?

This is an Eddie he doesn't want to have to share with anybody.

Eddie threads their fingers together, and Buck tugs him down into a sweaty hug.

They stay like that for a while, Eddie with his nose pressed into Buck's collarbone, little huffs of breath fanning over his skin. His knot pulses in Buck still, and they find they have to stay like this for twenty minutes before it goes down.

Eddie eases out of him, stumbling onto shaky legs, hiking his jeans up before heading to the hall without a word. Buck lies there stunned, still fucked out and blinking up at the ceiling lazily.

Fuck.

He was so fucking in love with Eddie.

…This was a fucking disaster.

Eddie comes back moments later with a washcloth to clean Buck up with, and Buck watches him as he does just that. He doesn't even hand it to Buck for him to do himself. Eddie carefully wipes him free of come, starting with his neck before working down to his thighs. Buck feels floored by the simple act of care; he kind of wants to cry about it.

It'd been a while since somebody had cared about him enough to clean him up like this.

"E-Eddie?" he croaks out, and Eddie looks up at him questioningly. "You didn't have to do that," he points out, heart in his throat.

Eddie just smiles at him, and it's so fond it hurts.

"Yeah, I did, and besides that I wanted to."

Buck swallows, shaking his head as he returns the smile.

"Do you th-think you're still in rut?" he asks, and Eddie shrugs, now cleaning his own cock up.

"No, I think that was just a breakthrough rut because I couldn't—" he scoffs a little, shaking his head at himself. "—because I couldn't handle pin-dick Kinnard's scent on you."

"Pin dick?" Buck asks with a laugh.

"You do not want to know how much of an exhibitionist that guy was at the gym, Buck," Eddie says, face screwed up. "Was he at least a grower?" he asks conversationally, and Buck screws his own face up at the question.

It's silent for a moment—

And then—

"No."

Oddly, that seems to set the both of them off.

Laughter bubbles up between them, and Buck loves him, loves the way the laughter brightens his face and dashes away anything but mirth.

Buck has to push himself up to his elbows so he can reach for Eddie, hook his hand around the back of his neck, and tug him into a kiss.

Eddie returns it eagerly.

It’s not until a few days later that they realize anything has changed, really. It takes everybody else realizing it before it clocks for Buck.

Buck comes into his shift late, not by too much, but just late enough that everyone else is already seated around the table having breakfast. He woke up exhausted, feeling like he’d been run over by a freight train, but oddly, he hadn’t been running a temp. He’d brushed it off to sleeping weird.

He’s reaching across the table to snag a breakfast roll when Chim’s nose flares when he’s close enough. The alpha scents him and screws his nose up in confusion.

He squints at Buck as Buck flops into the seat across from him, brushing shoulders with Eddie, which leaves a tingle on his skin despite the clothing separating them.

Eddie’s hand finds Buck’s knee and squeezes gently. Buck finds it hard to hide the smile on his face from it.

“Are you wearing Eddie’s work shirt?” Chim asks suddenly, and Buck stops with the breakfast roll halfway to his mouth. He looks down at his clothes. It’s not tight in the arms, so—

“No?” Buck asks, brow creased in confusion.

Chim hums, like he doesn’t quite believe him.

“Sure, Buckley,” he says, eyebrows coming up as he looks between Eddie and him.

Buck shakes his head and laughs it off.

Except—

After breakfast, as he’s rolling hoses with Ravi while Eddie hoses the engines down, Ravi says something similar.

He stops halfway through picking up the rolled hose, Eddie walking past him to the other side of the engine, glancing between Buck and where Eddie disappeared to like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

He hesitates.

“Hey, uh,” his eyes flick over to where Eddie has stepped back around the engine, reaching up to buff something off it. “Is it normal for you two to smell like—”

Buck looks up, frowning at him.

“Smell like what?” Buck asks.

Ravi opens his mouth—then shuts it again with a click.

“You know what? Never mind.”

Buck snorts.

“Okay, weirdo,” and then playfully shoves Ravi, who responds by jostling him back.

Buck files the incident away.

They’re out on call after lunch, and Buck jumps down from the truck a little too fast, adrenaline buzzing under his skin as Bobby calls out instructions to them—

—and Eddie’s hand catches him by the shoulder.

Just for a second, just enough to ground him.

Buck’s lungs unlock like someone hit a switch inside him.

“Got you, bud,” Eddie says, already pulling back.

Buck nods, a little dazed.

Weird.

He thinks, but then forgets it in the busy rush of firefighters rushing forward with hoses and gear.

When they get back from the call and have showered off with the de-scenting shower gel provided by the LAFD, Chim corners him.

“Okay,” he says, pointing between them, “no, I’m saying it—you smell like him!”

Buck laughs.

“I always do,” he points out, shoving his dirty clothes into the huge hamper for their uniforms.

“Dude, this is so far beyond a scenting scent, it’s like you’re—”

“Drop it, Chim,” Eddie cuts in, a little too fast.

Buck glances at him, a little stunned, and Chim holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, touchy,” Chim murmurs, turning back to buttoning his shirt up.

Buck looks between the two men, a little confused.

Something shifts in his chest.

He shrugs it off and sits down on the bench in the locker room to tug his boots and socks on, effectively tying them before hurrying out of the room to find Bobby and help with dinner prep.

Bobby is already in the kitchen when Buck finds him, and he looks up to see Buck only half focusing on the task he set him.

“Buck?” he asks, probing gently in that way he does when he can see Buck needs to get something off his head.

“D-do you think Eddie and I smell too much like each other?” he asks, and Bobby gives him this smile that feels a little telling.

“I think,” Bobby says, looking back down at his chopping board as he expertly dices onions, “that you and Eddie smell like two people who spend a lot of time together, and who care for each other a great deal.”

Buck looks down at his own half-cut julienne carrots.

“I don’t know if that answers my question,” Buck mutters.

“Au contraire, Buck, I think it answers it just enough" Bobby says, letting out a fond laugh.

Buck scowls at Bobby before going back to his cutting.

He loves Bobby like he's his dad, but damn, if the man wasn't enigmatic as fuck sometimes.

Hen is the one who finally spells it out for him.

She’d been watching them with a hawk eye all day, eyebrows wordlessly rising up her forehead every time she noticed something.

It’s not until Buck has his head tipped back in a laugh that he feels it properly for the first time.

Something pulls.

Not Eddie’s scent, or even his scent.

Something else.

He can feel it on his neck, like he can sense something there that—

Buck drops his head, laughter dying off and—

Eddie’s looking at him.

No—

not at him.

At his throat.

Like he wants—

Buck’s stomach flips.

Eddie blinks, like he’s just realized it too, and looks away—too late, though, because Hen lets out an audible “Oh” from beside him.

Buck turns. “What?” he asks.

She straightens up from the bench she had been leaning against, her dark brown eyes flicking between them.

“Oh,” and she lets out a sigh, long-suffering and incredibly fond. “You idiots.”

Buck lets out a nervous laugh at it.

“Okay, that’s rude of you and not ominous at all—what?”

Hen lets out a loose laugh, looking up to the heavens as if asking for strength before flicking her eyes back to him.

“You seriously haven’t noticed?” she asks.

“Noticed what?” Buck asks back, a little exasperated now.

“You,” she says slowly, “smell like him.”

“Yeah,” Buck says a little defensively, “Chim’s been saying that, but—”

“No,” Hen cuts in, sharper now. “Not like you’ve been around him, Buck—not like you’ve just been scented by him. You smell mated.”

“But we’re—”

Hen laughs, and it’s as fond as Bobby had been earlier.

“No, that much is clear,” she says gently. “I said smelled, not that you are. I think you two idiots have scent bonded.”

Buck balks.

A cold panic curls in his gut.

“But I don’t—h-how could that happen?” Buck asks.

Hen tilts her head to the side, considering him.

“Well, when a highly compatible Alpha and Omega pair couple for the first time, their bodies can sometimes tether them together regardless of a claiming bite or not.”

“D-does—Is that permanent?” Buck squeaks out, and Hen shrugs.

“Not if you don’t want it to be. You just have to refrain from being in each other’s company for a few months until it degrades and then breaks on its own. It won’t hurt as much as a claiming bond would if you broke it—but—”

She gives him a look that tells him he’d be in for a hell of a time regardless.

“I don’t—” he begins a little helplessly, but she pats him on the shoulder gently before nodding towards Eddie.

“I think,” she settles on, voice gentle, “that the two of you should talk, don’t you think?”

He scuffs his toe along the floor, not looking at her now. Sure he’d find pity in those eyes of hers. She reaches out and gently squeezes his arm before heading over to Chimney.

He doesn’t end up talking to Eddie.

Well.

Not until their shift has finished and they’re in Eddie’s truck again.

All Buck can smell in the cab of it is his and Eddie’s scents blended and smelling perfect together.

“Hen said the darndest thing,” Buck begins, unable to keep quiet anymore.

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie asks distractedly, flicking his turning signal on.

“She said we’re scent bonded,” Buck blurts out with no warning, and Eddie slams on the brakes.

It was a good thing they were at a red light.

“What?” Eddie asks, stunned.

“Yeah, uh, it happens when—”

“I know how it happens, Buck,” Eddie says a little hoarsely. “But—shit.” Something dawns on his face.

“Shit—Buck, I’m so sor—”

A horn blares behind them and Eddie jumps in his seat a little, glancing up to see the light has turned green. He presses his foot down on the accelerator and starts driving again. “I—let’s talk about this when we get home.”

Buck nods.

So they sit in an unnerving quiet for the rest of the drive back to Eddie’s.

Chris is at Pepa’s, so they don’t bother hushing their noisy footsteps as they enter the house. Buck messily kicks off his shoes before bending and snagging them up. He tries not to think too hard about the last time they were in the entryway of Eddie’s house.

“I did sense that something was different,” Eddie confesses, grabbing his own shoes and putting them up. He’s not looking at Buck as he speaks, and Buck thinks maybe that’s fair. “I didn’t know what to call it until you said it.”

“Uh, yeah—I had to have Hen explain it to me,” Buck says, heading into the lounge room already. He drops onto the couch, and then Eddie drops beside him. “We—” he swallows down the bile at the idea of it, but presses on for Eddie’s sake.

“We can—”

“I’m so sorry, Buck,” Eddie interrupts him. Buck looks up at him, startled.

“What?” he asks, incredulous. “No, Eddie—you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I do—”

“No.” Buck cuts in sharply. “We can break the bond. I—” he hesitates now, “—I can take B shift for a couple of months until it degrades enough to break.”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says. “Do you want to break the bond?”

Buck has to think about his answer, not because he wants to break it in any way—but because it’s a question worth taking the time to consider. He doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. It’s Eddie.

Eddie, the love of his life.

Eddie who says “C’mon” to him like it’s an invitation instead of a command, Eddie who seems to predict whenever Buck needs something, Eddie who—

The weight of his palm finding that spot on Buck’s shoulder that seems to fit nobody but him, like Buck’s body was molded for that particular touch.

It was Eddie who had trusted Buck to take care of Chris, always.

It’s—

It’s Eddie—

And he loves his Eddie so very much it makes his chest ache sometimes.

Like there’s too much love inside him to swallow.

“No,” is his quiet answer.

Eddie lets out a breath.

“I don’t want to either,” he says softly, reaching out a hand to cup Buck’s jaw. “I want to be with you forever, Buck. I want to feel you here,” he presses a hand over his chest. “And—and I want to be able to close my eyes and see how—how tethered we are together. I want to be able to see our tether so bright and gold that it blinds me, Buck—” He sucks in a breath, and it’s wet.

He’s crying.

“God, Buck, I am so in love with you, I—” but Buck doesn’t let him get the rest out. He presses forward and kisses Eddie. He tastes of salty tears, but it doesn’t seem to matter because this is perfect.

It’s them.

He pulls away just enough to tell Eddie what was weighing in his chest.

“I love you too.”

And Eddie pulls him back into the kiss, laughter buzzing against Buck’s lips.

He’s fucking perfect.

Buck climbs into Eddie’s lap, and his Alpha hauls him so close his nose is pressed tightly to Eddie’s cheek. But he doesn’t care, because he pours his love into Eddie with every languid press of lips, every slow dip of his tongue along Eddie’s. Maybe the love in his chest wasn’t too much for Eddie to swallow after all, because he drinks it down hungrily, hands tracing and mapping the planes of Buck’s waist and back.

Their kiss turns urgent, and Buck’s scent flares between them, mixed so perfectly with Eddie’s.

Eddie pushes his erection up into him, and Buck lets out a whine as he rubs himself against the ridge of it.

He tugs Eddie’s shirt off, and Eddie returns the favor of tugging Buck’s off too. He finds he has to stand a moment to wiggle his sweatpants down, watching as Eddie takes his own off.

Eddie sits back down and Buck climbs back into his lap, reaching down to center Eddie’s dick and sink down on it. They both moan, and the sound of it bounces around them in the empty room.

Buck, embarrassingly, mewls out a noise when Eddie tightens his hands around Buck’s hips.

Eddie must be able to sense the embarrassment, because he kisses Buck’s collarbone soothingly.

“It’s okay,” he says lovingly, “I want to hear it, Buck. Every sound you make is so—fuck—” Buck starts to fuck himself up and down on Eddie’s girth, “so fucking pretty, baby.”

Buck moans when Eddie calls him “baby,” the husky way he says it sending lightning up his spine.

Eddie meets his rocking motion with short, sharp thrusts up, pressing kisses along Buck’s neck, laving attention on Buck’s scent gland as it throbs beneath in time with Buck’s heartbeat. He feels—

God, he feels a little insane, like nothing should be this perfect, but everything between them is. It’s so fucking good he cries out, clenching around Eddie, knees faltering to take his weight.

Eddie doesn’t care. He just plants his feet and fucks up into Buck desperately as Buck feels—

And—

“B-bite me,” Buck slurs between moans. “Bite me, Eddie, bite me, bite me, bite m—”

Eddie’s teeth sink into his neck, and Buck is coming—his eyes roll into his head and his feet cramp with how tightly he holds himself as the pleasure washes over him.

Their tether clicks together, and it’s—

It’s breathtaking.

Two ropes twined together to form something strong and beautiful, a golden link between their minds that burns so bright behind Buck’s closed eyes that his eyes spill tears down his cheeks. He rests his wet face against Eddie’s hair, sobbing as the Alpha continues to fuck him through his orgasm before grunting his own against Buck's neck, knotting him .

It's like he’d been missing a limb his entire life but had finally found it.

“I r-really fucking love you, Eddie,” he gasps, and Eddie nurses at the claiming mark, every sweep of his tongue healing the bite.

Love for him pours down their bond in answer, Eddie's mouth too busy nursing the new bond mark to answer properly— But this.

This is everything.

It warms him up inside, chest full— Body full.

This, he thinks, is what love is supposed to feel like.