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They’re fighting over the last beer—Eddie’s by right of he only had two to Buck’s three, Buck’s argument that he needs more than Eddie because he has a higher tolerance—when Eddie realizes he’s got Buck in a shoulder hold. It doesn’t take much to bring Buck down, twisting forward and blocking Buck’s leg with his own foot, and Buck tumbles onto the floor, landing on his back with a low groan. Eddie meant for it to be a soft landing but obviously failed, because Buck seems a little stunned, laid flat on his back. It doesn’t deter Eddie from stepping past Buck’s prone body to grab the beer, popping the cap off by using the edge of the island.
Bookmarked by embracedflaws
12 Jun 2026
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Eddie knocks his shoulder into Buck's as they walk, a familiar, comforting presence, one that's been missing lately and Buck hadn't been aware of how cold he'd been feeling without the warmth of Eddie squarely by his side.
He'd thought he was coping, dealing, and that the distance was a natural side effect of trying to move on, but all day they've been cheering for each other, working in sync like the old days, the awkward tension from the last few months evaporated. With the reminder from Bobby, that they're a team and that Buck nearly had to do without Eddie in his life every day, it's solidified for Buck that Eddie is someone he never wants to lose.
*
Things are different in Nashville.
Bookmarked by embracedflaws
12 Jun 2026
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Eddie huffs. It’s respectable and masculine, probably. “You know I’m not interested in—”
“Yes, Eddie, I know,” Buck drolls. “You’re off the horse. The meat market is closed. Your dick is on Do Not Disturb. I just think the pot shouldn’t be calling the kettle out,” he gestures between them with an emphatic finger, “for bad dates. Not when the pot is, ostensibly, a born-again virgin.”
“I’m not a born-again virgin,” Eddie grumbles. “Don’t start this again.”
“I’m not starting anything,” Buck lies. “I’m watching the movie.” Another lie. Then he flops unceremoniously back down, head strewn across Eddie’s clenched thighs.
Or: Buck’s mouth moves faster than Eddie’s brain.
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Bookmarked by embracedflaws
11 Jun 2026
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“How come you’re still awake?” Buck asks, antsy. He pulls at a loose thread inside one pocket with pinched fingers, rapidly picking apart the stitching. Better to unravel that than eight years of friendship all because said friend’s shorts have ridden up agonizingly at the thigh.
“I was waiting for you to get back. You’re kind of early, though.” Eddie’s eyes are tracked to the TV, but they dart over at Buck when he asks, “You strike out with Dixie?”
Which… Buck doesn’t even know where to start. He desperately needs to buy a vowel.
“Huh? Why—what—did I miss a text?”
Eddie, sat cross-legged on top of pearly-white cotton sheets, a vision so soft it’s making Buck dizzy, has the audacity to look puzzled. “Not from me. Why?”
or: Eddie leaves a light on for Buck.
Bookmarked by embracedflaws
11 Jun 2026
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——————
“Buck!” His voice echoed through the space, louder than he had anticipated, especially because he hadn’t intended to say anything at all. His brain had completely taken a backseat, and the tequila in his veins had made it too easy to hand the wheel over to instinct.
After a few minutes, of which Eddie lost track, Buck came padding down the stairs. His eyes were squinting with interrupted sleep, his hair a mess of rumpled curls, and Eddie had to take a deep breath.
Buck was wearing only a thin t-shirt that clung tightly to his stomach, ending before reaching his boxers and leaving a gap of soft belly exposed. Eddie huffed out a rush of air as he took in the sight of his best friend. He was angry at how quickly it flooded over him: that confirmation of want. The thing that just a few hours ago had him waking up a sweaty mess, rutting into his bedsheets and gasping to the fading images of Buck writhing underneath him.
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Eddie wants Buck. He finally does something about it.
Bookmarked by embracedflaws
10 Jun 2026

