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"Um, hey," says a voice from behind him. "It's Eddie, right?"
Startled, Eddie turns, fumbling the medical supplies he's got tucked under one arm. Gauze packs, medical tape, N95s, and endotracheal tubes scatter across concrete, some skidding under the ambulance, and he blows out an exasperated breath, sending the lock of hair over his forehead flying back up out of his face. "Yeah it's—oh, hey. Ian."
It is, in fact, Nurse Ian from Presbyterian. Standing there in blue scrubs with a hoodie thrown over top, glancing ruefully at the floor. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Here, let me," he says, squatting down to reach under the ambo before Eddie can even open his mouth to say it's fine, don't worry about it.
"Thanks," Eddie tells him instead, opting to set everything down on one of the chairs before he faces Ian again, who smiles at him. It's wide and friendly, showcasing straight white teeth and warm brown eyes. Jeez. The guy really is ridiculously good-looking. His instagram has nothing on him in person. But what is he doing here?
"My pleasure." If it's possible, Ian's smile deepens, and Eddie feels himself flushing under the full force of the attention, and stumbles over his words.
"Ha—uh, y—yeah. Are you… here to see May?"
Weird, if he is. Ian knows May doesn't work here. At least, Eddie figures he's got to be aware of that. Also, she seemed really cozy with Ravi at the dinner they had once Buck was feeling better, so…
"I'm, uh, here to see you, actually," Ian admits, ducking his head.
"Me," Eddie echoes, confused. "Is this about a patient?" He mentally reviews his shifts from the last week or two, thinking. The last time they'd seen each other was… just before Buck's detox. Or maybe during it. When Ian had booked it out of the hospital and saved the life of that kid like some kind of hero in a scene right out of an action movie. He'd left the entirety of the 118 practically swooning in the wake of it.
"Oh! No." Ian laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I heard you talking to your coworker about your Chevelle? Last week? After that call, and I was wondering if you're interested in going to the Granada Hills Cruiz-In with me on Sunday, if you're not working."
Eddie's brain stutters to a grinding halt. "I'm not," he starts, and then stops. Without finishing.
Ian's smile flickers slightly. "Interested? Or…"
"Working," Eddie blurts out, and blanks again.
"Okay," Ian says, drawing out the word just enough, raising his tone just enough at the end that Eddie realizes how much of an idiot he's sounding. There's a beat of silence, while Eddie viciously tries to wrangle his brain in order and then Ian's smile fades again, and he tucks his hands in his front pockets, angling himself further towards the open bay doors. "Okay, it's all good, no—"
"I'm not working," Eddie says quickly, a little high-pitched. "I—car shows aren't really my thing, but I'm not—working." He flexes his fingers, wishing suddenly that he had something to hold in his hands rather than… nothing at all. Ian looks like he's uncomfortable, now, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie and the parking lot, shifting on his feet. "You're a car guy?"
"Yeah," Ian shrugs, the corner of his mouth lifting. "My dad's—he got me into it when I was a kid. He and his friends have a whole collection. I figured, maybe, if you were—but maybe grab a beer, or dinner or something? If that's not up your alley, or… not—"
Oh. Oh. Is this—
Eddie's being possessed. Something is possessing him. Nothing else explains the way he smiles back reflexively and says, "Yeah, that sounds great. I'd—yeah. Yes. Sure. Okay." He needs to stop talking, immediately, but Ian's face lights up, another grin flashed right at Eddie, and Eddie feels warmth spreading into his chest. Is warmth a symptom of possession? What are his insides doing? Something is bubbling in his stomach.
"Okay," Ian parrots, "Great," and Eddie's cheeks go hot. "What's your number? I'll text you."
Eddie rattles it off on autopilot. He can feel his pulse in his ears. That's not normal, is it? He swallows, his throat dry, as Ian presumably types out a message, and sure enough, his own phone immediately buzzes in his back pocket.
"How does Sunday at seven sound?"
"Perfect," Eddie manages around a tongue that he's certain is three times as big as it usually is.
"Great, I'll pick you up. Send me your address?" Ian smiles again, and Eddie thinks he might have a heart attack. He has no idea what he says in response, but it must be adequate, because Ian gives him a little wave and says he'll see Eddie on Sunday, and as soon as he disappears from sight, Eddie slumps back against one of the open ambulance doors, stunned.
"Huh. So that's why he's not dating May," comes Ravi's voice from behind him, and Eddie does not yelp. He doesn't. He just… makes a strange squawking sound.
"What?"
"Dude. He asked you out. You were there." Ravi shoots him a curious glance. "I didn't realize you were into guys," he adds, overly casual.
Eddie's whole body freezes up. "I'm… not."
Ravi's brow furrows. "You're not?"
Eddie shakes his head mutely.
"Then… why did you say yes?"
"I don't know."
Ravi opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. "You don't know?"
"No, I don't know," Eddie hisses. "Don't say anything." He looks around to see if anyone is listening, panic crawling up his spine. He just agreed to go out. Out. On a date. With a man. A man that everyone in the 118 is familiar with.
It's fine. Everything's fine. This is a fine plan. It'll be… fine. Right?
All he has to do is get through one dinner (date! with a man!) whose smile and muscles make his insides go kinda fluttery, let him down in the kindest way possible, and then never mention it to anyone ever, and swear Ravi to secrecy.
The first hiccup occurred at the end of the dinner-date, which honestly went far smoother than he'd anticipated. A few glasses of red helped significantly, and he'd even managed to relax and enjoy himself. Sure, the restaurant was really nice, and Ian was a great conversationalist, so it was basically like hanging out with Buck, except—
"Hey, Eddie? I had a really great time with you tonight. And despite the platitude that sounds like, I mean it," Ian said as he walked Eddie to his door, the hour late enough that Eddie hadn't had to worry about Chris being up in the living room and seeing them.
It had been so easy to smile and say, "Yeah, it really was," warm and tingly from the wine and Ian's broad palm on the small of his back, and before he'd realized what was happening, Ian had swooped in, urging him closer with that hand, and kissed him with a sense of confidence and surety that made Eddie's head spin. He'd tasted like traces of beer and the mint he'd had after dinner, and the shock of it had Eddie's mouth open, Ian's tongue flickering briefly over the back of his front teeth, hot and slick.
And then it was over.
"Goodnight, Eddie. I'd love to do this again." Ian had winked! At him, and meandered back to his SUV like he didn't have a care in the world, and Eddie'd fumbled three times to get his key into the lock.
So, yeah. Except for that part, because Eddie had had to frantically text Ravi, holy shit holy shit you were right.
Right about what?
Right about it being a date!!!
Ravi had responded with how do you know, a string of question marks, which Eddie ignored, which led to the second hiccup the next morning during their shift.
They're all alone in the locker room, but Eddie darts a glance around before whispering, "He fucking kissed me, okay, that's how I knew!"
The look Ravi gives him is borderline—actually, very offensive. Eddie takes offense.
"No shit," Ravi breathes out, laughing. "How was it?"
Eddie's traitorous cheeks flush with heat. He presses his lips together tightly, shaking his head.
"Oh hohhhhh, I see," Ravi crows, positively gleeful, and reaches out for a fist bump. "My man! So, maybe men after all, huh?"
Eddie stares at him in horror.
Someone coughs. It's not Ravi, and it's not Eddie.
Please, Eddie begs inwardly, turning, please, anyone but—
Buck, inexplicably, has one hand over his eyes as he stands there, duffel bag slung over one shoulder. "Uh. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll just… go." And flees, nearly crashing into a wall as he goes.
Fuck, Eddie loves him.
"Dude, I am so sorry." Now Ravi's the one that's horrified, pale and hunching his shoulders. "That was not cool, I would never ever out someone like that, oh my god, Eddie, I am so fucking sorry," he rushes out, wide brown eyes pleading.
Eddie takes a very deliberate deep breath. His work shirt is still half-buttoned over a white tank. His belt isn't done up. And his plan is shot to shit.
"I'll catch him later," he sighs, knowing Buck's gonna do his damndest to avoid him for the entirety of their shift. For such a large, loud guy, he's insanely good at disappearing when he wants to. "It's okay, Rav. I'll be fine." And it will. He'll corner Buck at home, if he has to.
Ravi still looks devastated. "I—"
"Rav. It's okay. I'm not upset with you," Eddie reassures, clapping him on the shoulder. "It's fine."
And it is. For the next twelve hours, as if Eddie's wearing a bell, Buck vanishes at any point there's a chance they could be alone together. He refuses to make any prolonged eye contact, dodges every attempt Eddie makes at conversation he can passably get away with, and none of his smiles reach his eyes, not even when Chimney cracks jokes.
Eddie hates it. By the time their twelve hours is up, he's part-anxious, part-furious, and part-jittery, and Buck manages to throw a wrench in things by waiting for him in the parking lot, leaned up against the passenger side of his truck, parked to the left of Eddie's. He's fidgeting with his keys, one long leg crossed over the other, mouth and eyes flat and expressionless.
"Look," he says, unusually bland. His gaze rests over Eddie's shoulder. "You didn't want me to know; I could have waited until you guys were done talking. I'm sorry for accidentally eavesdropping. You don't need to worry about me telling anyone—it's already forgotten. It should never happen that way. For what it's worth, I hope you're happy. You deserve it."
"Buck—" Eddie starts.
Buck shakes his head, still looking anywhere but at Eddie's face. "It's fine. Don't worry about it," he says again. "None of my business."
The thing is, though. The thing is that Eddie knows him. Eddie knows him, has known him for almost a decade because Buck is his best fucking friend, and Buck is not only predictable, he's got a terrible poker face. So Eddie reads.
Eddie reads I'm hurt in the slope of his shoulders. He reads you didn't tell me in the set of Buck's jaw, his narrowed eyes. He reads I'm sorry in the twisting of Buck's fingers and I'll be normal, I promise in his faux-casual lean.
Most clearly, he reads rejection in Buck's withdrawal, and the way Buck won't look at him.
And he can't have that.
"Buck," he says, more gently. Buck's teeth snag on his lower lip, then release.
"Yeah."
"I'm—I'm gay, I'm pretty sure," Eddie admits. Watches Buck soften a little, smooth out.
"Thank you for telling me. I'm honoured."
There it is. I'll be normal, I promise.
But Eddie doesn't want normal Buck. He wants enthusiastic, yappy, playful, chronic over-sharer Buck. He wants a Buck who regularly sticks his foot in his mouth, stumbles over flat surfaces, accidentally-injures-people-in-fits-of-possessiveness-Buck.
"That's nice," Eddie says wryly, "But I don't want to talk to robot-Buck. Can I have my best friend, please?" He ducks his head, makes his eyes go big and vulnerable in a manner Linda once described to him as "diabolically cute, you menace", and it works.
Buck slumps, keys dangling precariously from one finger. "I don't… I don't know if I can be a good friend right now."
Eddie reads.
Why not me?
"Then don't," he offers on a hunch. "Be a bad friend. I can take it." C'mon, Buck, he thinks. Read me like I read you. Sways a bit closer, drops his bag on the ground and watches Buck finally, finally look at him—really look.
I'm an open book, Eddie says, exposed palms held out on either side. You're safe with me, he continues, shifting his weight forward again. I feel the same way, he encourages, letting his tongue wet his bottom lip.
Buck's eyes keep him locked in place. "Don't date him. Whoever he is. I don't want you to," he says quietly.
"No?" Eddie says, just as quiet.
Buck shakes his head. "No. And you should have told me first. Not Ravi."
Eddie raises his eyebrows, letting the corners of his mouth tug up. "And why not?"
"Because it should be me," Buck says firmly, straightening up.
Success.
"What should be you, Buck?"
Silence.
Eddie steps one more time, close enough that he can feel Buck's body heat. Buck's gaze drops to his mouth, lightning-fast. "Tell me."
"I'm your partner. Your fr-friend." Buck swallows. "I'd be more, if you'd let me."
"I'd let you," Eddie whispers, and his mouth barely rounds out before Buck kisses the words from his lips with an all-consuming hunger, validating every suspicion Eddie's had since this morning. A needy sound slips out when Buck's fingers hook through his belt loops, yanking him closer.
If Ian's kiss gave him butterflies, then kissing Buck is like a rollercoaster. Eddie's stomach dips and soars, he's breathless and lit up like a firework. His whole body is shivery and hot and his mind is blissfully, gloriously blank, reduced down to sensation—the scrape of Buck's stubble against his cheek, Buck's hands on his waist, Buck's wickedly skillful use of tonguelipsteeth, Buck's tangled curls beneath Eddie's fingertips.
Eddie becomes aware that his knees might actually give out right before Buck—the traitor—suddenly pulls back, inhaling a jagged breath of air. (It's very satisfying.)
"Wait, I need to. I need to know, first. What that was all about. I have been dying all day, Eddie, of curiosity."
"And maybe some jealousy, too?" Eddie teases, moving his hands to grip Buck by the elbows.
Buck sniffs. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Uh huh."
"So?"
You're not funny, Eddie reads in the frown lines on Buck's forehead. He presses a thumb there until the skin gives way, then playfully pinches Buck's left earlobe between the same thumb and his index finger.
Buck yelps. "Hey!"
"Brat," Eddie reprimands, but he knows he just sounds disgustingly affectionate. "I went out with Ian."
"The nurse, Ian? May's Ian?!"
"He's not May's Ian!"
"Since when?"
"Never? May's dating Ravi!"
"What?"
"I'm going to have to text him," Eddie remembers out loud.
"Ravi?"
"No, Ian."
"Eddie. You're going to need to explain to me what the hell is going on, please."
Eddie sighs. "Okay. May and Ravi hooked up after the auction but then he ghosted her, except it was kind of Harry's fault, and then she went out with Ian a few times but it was only to talk to him about nursing school; Ravi totally thought she was dating him and was going to bow out but she explained and now they're back on. And, um, Ian came to the station and asked me out."
Buck's eyes nearly bug out. "What the hell."
"They made up while you were detoxing," Eddie offers helpfully. "That's why you missed it."
Unimpressed, Buck makes a face. "And you said yes."
"I panicked! He was all, like, smiling, and muscles."
"Smiling. And muscles. That's all it takes?" Buck teases.
"Look, it wasn't… my finest moment," Eddie admits. "It was kind of a whirlwind. And then Ravi overheard, and I told him I wasn't into men, and I almost convinced myself it wasn't a date until—uh, the end, and then—"
Buck's expression dims slightly. "Until—oh. Until he kissed you. So, uh. He was your gay awakening, huh?"
"Nah," Eddie says, grinning at him. "This wasn't like you and—"
"—don't—"
"—him," Eddie finishes. "I think… I'm pretty sure I've known for a while, that I might be. Gay. Sure, I noticed him in a different way, and that kinda freaked me out."
"Sounds pretty much like a gay awakening to me," Buck mutters lowly.
"Stop that." Eddie curves one hand around Buck's neck, stroking a thumb along his cheek. "I said different, not new. I noticed you, too, but I think it's been happening for so long I just… didn't realize what was happening. It's like I'm so aware of you that I just accepted it as normal and not something to think about, you know? And listen. He kissed me, and it was fine. Great, even. But compared to you, he's not even a blip on my radar."
When he finishes, he sees that Buck's eyes look shiny. "I'm not going to tell you I choose you, because it wasn't a choice. There was never another option for me."
"God, you just—you just fucking say shit like this, like it's not the most romantic thing I've ever heard," Buck chokes out, eyelids sliding closed as he presses into Eddie's touch.
"And," Eddie adds, "For the record. I am a big fan of your smiles. And muscles."
"Oh yeah?" Buck sidles back in, lips brushing Eddie's ear. "They do it for you?"
"Oh yeah," Eddie parrots, letting the grin split his face. He inhales deep, breathing the scent of the station shampoo, Buck's cologne, the faint traces of sweat behind his ear. "Definitely."
"Wanna," Buck kisses him again, "see what I can do with 'em, maybe?" Another kiss, and another, through Eddie's collapse into laughter.
"Gotta break it off with Ian first."
"Please do."