Buck can’t stop thinking about his best friend’s hands, and it’s all Miss Sunny’s fault.
He doesn’t think much of it when Jee comes home from her after-school program with a stack of construction paper and several little plastic buckets of body-safe paint. He listens intently as his niece had taken the 118 get-together as a chance to tell them all about her program’s new art project, smiling widely even when her excitement overtook her grasp of coherent sentences.
“Miss Sunny is making a mural of hand-prints,” Maddie explains. “And Jee said her whole family needed to contribute.”
Buck looks down at his niece’s sweet little face and melts instantly, offering her both of his palms.
“Paint away, babygirl!”
Before long, the whole gang is involved, construction paper overlapping on the single picnic table bench as they crowd around to press their painted palms into the paper.
Chris and Eddie press their hands down onto pieces of black paper, the neon green of the paint a stark contrast that has Jee gasping in awe and Chris giggling like a little kid as Eddie looks on with amused fondness.
Maddie and Chim use their combined hands and glittery pink paint to make heart patterns that Jee smacks her little hand beneath with far too much paint, splattering it all over her shirt and dark hair. Maddie just rolls her eyes, sharing a long-suffering look with Chim even as they both laugh.
Hen and Karen choose the traditional red, filling two pages with their prints linking to Denny and Mara’s. Mara tosses glitter at the prints with reckless abandon, much to Denny’s chagrin and Jee’s delight.
Bobby grins sappily at Athena as he presses a blue hand onto the light pink paper, only to flush pink himself when Athena responds with a red print resting along the curves of his.
Buck freezes, overwhelmed by the options, pushing down the flare of worthlessness that always rears up when he remembers how alone he is.
“Just Uncle Buck left,” Chim declares, gesturing to the array of paints and paper. “What’ll it be, my good sir?”
“Uhh,” Buck says, staring at the crowded table, not sure where to even stand, never mind what color to choose. “I don’t know,” he says, laughing ruefully at himself. “What do you think?”
“Up to you, Buckaroo,” Chim shrugs easily. “Jee would recommend anything with glitter, as evidenced by her current Edward Cullen impersonation.”
Buck laughs, glancing at Jee’s sparkling skin, before frowning back down at the choices in front of him, hating himself for having such a dumb decision be so paralyzing.
“Here,” Eddie says, standing up from the table and shuffling aside so Buck has space to work. “Give me your hands.”
Buck does so without thinking, even as he registers giggling from the peanut gallery behind him. He watches with a distant sort of panic as Eddie rubs the leftover green paint from his own hands onto Buck’s with firm strokes, dipping his fingers into the open pot to finish the job when his hands get too dry.
“Don’t forget the black paper,” Chris chimes in, smiling up at Maddie who places a sheet down with her cleaned hands.
Buck shoots Eddie and then Chris grateful looks as he presses his hands into the paper, curving his fingers to leave the middle of the sheet a heart-shaped space like Maddie and Chim had done.
“There,” Eddie says when Buck pulls back. “Now we match.”
He knocks his shoulder into Buck’s affectionately before heading toward the house, no doubt to wash his hands. Chris wanders off after him, crinkling his nose as he wiggles his fingers against the tackily drying paint.
“Problem solved!” Chim declares, grinning down at Buck’s sheet.
Buck just nods and offers the most convincing smile he can manage.
Problem most definitely not solved.
Buck eventually shakes himself of his stupor and heads to the kitchen to wash his own hands, passing an exiting Chris on the way in.
“Thank god this stuff is washable,” Eddie laughs as he sees Buck head for the sink where he’s scrubbing the green from his skin. “I don’t think rescue calls would go well if they thought we were radioactive.”
“Right,” Buck says, nodding absently as he watches Eddie scrubs his hands with the dish soap, green-tinted foam swirling down the drain as he finishes.
He’s never noticed before, is the thing. How pretty Eddie’s hands are. Long and tan and strong, and thick in a graceful way that he’s somehow never realized. Buck has a moment of pure insanity where he wishes he was the dish soap, coating Eddie’s hands slick just to hose them clean.
“Water’s still warm,” Eddie says, jarring Buck from his thoughts as he steps back and reaches for a towel to dry his hands.
“Right,” Buck repeats, moving on autopilot and shoving his hands under the water, rubbing at them with a scowl.
“Easy,” Eddie laughs. “What did your hands ever do to you? Use some soap.”
“Um,” Buck says, not wanting to touch the bottle with his gooey hands. Eddie rolls his eyes but leans in and grabs the bottle with one big hand and squirts a hefty dollop of soap into Buck’s open palms.
“See?” Eddie says as Buck begins to wash the green away. “It works on little baby ducks and on giant golden retrievers.”
“Very funny,” Buck huffs, unable to keep the scowl on his face when he dares to look at Eddie’s grinning face.
He’s drying his hands with the towel Eddie handed him when Eddie smirks again and reaches out to tilt Buck’s face to one side.
“How did you even manage to get paint on your forehead?” he asks, taking the damp towel from Buck with his other hand. “Close your eyes.”
Buck does so, willing his face not to heat up as Eddie rubs away the smeared paint with the towel, his other hand still holding Buck’s face steady.
“Maybe I did it on purpose,” Buck says, a moment too late to truly be a comeback, but Eddie snorts a laugh anyway, swatting Buck with the towel lightly before stepping back.
“You’re worse than Jee and Mara,” Eddie says. “Come on, Cap is making those things you like.”
Buck cannot at that moment name a single other thing he likes in the world besides the feeling of Eddie’s touch on his skin, but he beams a grin and hurries out before Eddie can ask why he’s being so weird.
“You ever heard of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon?” Buck asks Hen during their next shift.
“You see how I left you all in the kitchen to come here and read my book?” Hen asks, looking around the otherwise empty bunk room. “And yet, here you are, not even six feet from me.”
“Don’t be mean,” Buck whines, leaning even closer to her from his seat on the bed across from hers. “I’m having a crisis.”
Hen just raises an eyebrow, and Buck hears her loud and clear.
“Ok, not a real crisis,” he allows. “But just like.. a tiny one.”
“Fine,” Hen sighs, closing the book and placing it on her lap. “Yes, Buck, I have heard of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.”
“You think it’s really just an illusion?” Buck asks. “Like, am I only noticing something more because I was thinking about it? Or am I thinking about it more because it’s suddenly there?”
“Is this a new thing?” Hen asks, curiosity compelling her. “The thing that you’re noticing.”
“Yes,” Buck nods before shrugging. “No? Maybe. I don’t know. I mean, he…”
Hen’s eyes light up and she leans in with a sharklike grin.
“He?”
“No he,” Buck backpeddles rapidly. “It! I meant it. I noticed it recently and now I can’t stop noticing it, is all. No he.”
“I’m not sure this falls under the Baader-Meinhof umbrella,” Hen says thoughtfully. “It’s more like you decide you’re going to start roller-skating, and suddenly see roller-skaters everywhere.”
“Ugh,” Buck groans. “Then what is it called when I can’t stop noticing the same thing over and over now that it’s in my head?”
“I think that’s just called interest,” Hen says, shrugging. “Are you going to tell me what it is that you’ve noticed?”
Buck just whines again, dropping his head into his hands.
“Didn’t think so,” Hen laughs kindly. “I’m going to read my book. Take a nap, or go hassle the others.”
Buck thinks of Eddie, who is currently working on a jigsaw puzzle with Chim in the rec area, large hands working nimbly as they piece it together, and flops down onto his back and throws an arm over his eyes.
Nap time it is.
It only gets worse as the week goes on. Eddie has always been annoying competent in the field, strong and agile and smart as a whip on his feet, and Buck thought he was done feeling some sort of way about all of that back when they pulled that grenade from the guy’s leg.
This is ten times worse than the childish jealousy and boyish crush Buck had felt when they met, because now he knows. He knows Eddie is exactly as good as he appears. He knows those muscles are hard-earned through work, and he knows any cockiness Eddie can show in the field is entirely justified. Worst of all, he knows the feeling of Eddie’s hands cupping his shoulders, and the fleeting squeeze of his hands on his ribs, and the gentle hold while cleaning paint from his face. It’s devasting and exhilarating in equal measure, and it’s all Buck can do not to drop to his knees and beg Eddie to touch him again.
“Need a hand?” Eddie asks, as he strolls into the workout area and sees Buck laying on the weight bench, unmoving.
Buck bites down on his lip so hard that he’s pretty sure he’ll be tasting blood.
“I’m good,” he manages, looking up at the bar instead of at Eddie’s anything. “Just taking a breather.”
“Cool,” Eddie says. “I’m gonna hit the treadmill. Don’t forget to hydrate.”
Buck grunts in acknowledgement as he lifts the weights, using the exertion as an excuse to flush red as he finally looks at Eddie’s bare retreating back.
“Fuck,” he mumbles to himself, letting the bar clank back down and closing his eyes again.
One way or another, that man is going to kill him.
“Alright,” Eddie says a few nights later as Buck settles down on the couch for a movie. “Chris is at a sleepover, and you know I can outpace you. So you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on with you lately.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck says, blinking up at Eddie innocently.
Eddie stands before him with his arms crossed, looking like he believes him as much as he believed a ten year old Chris wasn’t sneaking cookies before dinner.
“Buck,” Eddie sighs. “You are so many things. But a good liar is not one of them.”
“It’s nothing,” Buck tries, leaning back and gulping as Eddie just stares at him resolutely. “Really,” he insists. “Nothing to worry about.”
“I’m going to worry,” Eddie says quietly. “We just got Chris back, and he’s finally actually speaking to me. I can’t be worried you’re going off the deep end or something.”
“As if you wouldn’t jump in after me,” Buck says, laughing despite himself.
“Of course I would,” Eddie grumbles, rolling his eyes. “But I’d appreciate you not jumping to begin with.”
“I’m really ok,” Buck says, earnestly. “I know I’m being weird, and I’ll get over it eventually, but I promise you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Eddie looks at him for a long moment, considering, before nodding.
“Alright,” he says, uncrossing his arms and raising his hands in mock-surrender. “But you better tell me if things get too much in that head of yours.”
Buck gives him a crooked smile and nods, breathing a sigh of relief that quickly turns into a gasp as Eddie moves to ruffle his hair and he flinches back as if struck.
“Um,” Buck says.
Eddie looks wrecked as he pulls his hand back and takes a step back for good measure.
“I wouldn’t hit you,” he says, frowning at Buck sadly.
“Jesus, Eds,” Buck says, leaning up and forward again. “I know that. I promise you I know that. You’d never hurt me. Shit, you wouldn’t even hit me when I was practically begging you to.”
“Then why did you flinch?” Eddie asks carefully. “I’ve touched your hair before, you’ve never done that.”
“I,” Buck stalls, trying desperately to think of anything to say besides the embarrassing truth. “You didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”
Eddie, far too sharp, narrows his eyes.
“But I did do something?”
“No,” Buck says, shaking his head, before stilling at Eddie’s pinning gaze. “I mean, not on purpose. This is 100% a me problem.”
“Buck,” Eddie says, melting Buck’s brain as he slowly kneels down until he’s practically nestled between Buck’s spread legs in front of the couch.
“Please just tell me what I did, so I can fix it.”
He doesn’t touch Buck, just looks slightly up at him with big sad eyes, and waits.
Buck, predictably, crumbles.
“It’s your hands,” he says, glancing down at Eddie’s sides where his fingers are gripping his sweatpants lightly.
“What?” Eddie asks, brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s wrong with my hands?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Buck sighs. “They’re actually perfect.”
“Thank you?” Eddie asks. “I’m so confused here, man.”
“You ever heard of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon?” Buck asks, smiling softly when Eddie is visibly thrown for a loop.
“The thing with the red cars?” Eddie asks, and Buck nods.
“Kind of,” he agrees. “Like you think about buying a red car, and suddenly all you see are red cars everywhere. This is kind of like that.”
“Are my hands the car in this scenario?” Eddie asks, still puzzled. “They aren’t new. Been the same old hands the last seven years.”
“Yeah, but I hadn’t noticed before!” Buck says, groaning with frustration at himself. “Turns out, I’m really bad at noticing things about myself.”
“Like the bisexuality,” Eddie says sagely, nodding so seriously that Buck can’t help but break into a grin.
“Exactly,” Buck laughs. “I don’t think I let myself notice how beautiful you were until you made our handprints match, and now I can’t unsee it.”
“For Jee’s art project?” Eddie asks, thinking back. “That was weeks ago!”
“Yeah, well,” Buck says, “you know how I get.”
“I do,” Eddie says nodding, before pausing in thought and giving Buck a shrewd look.
“Wait,” he says. “You just called me beautiful. Not my hands, me.”
“About that,” Buck says nervously. “We can maybe forget I said that, and watch our movie?”
“Not a chance,” Eddie says, pushing himself up to full kneeling and placing a hand around each of Buck’s bare knees, fingers just brushing the hem of his sweat shorts. “Explain.”
Buck gulps, skin tingling under the heat of Eddie’s fingers, shooting sparks deep into his belly as he struggles not to visibly react under the touch.
“Promise you won’t be mad?” Buck asks, watching as Eddie’s expression goes soft, melting from inquisitive to concerned.
“Apart from purposely hurting Chris,” Eddie says, “there is nothing in this world you could do or say that I wouldn’t forgive you for.”
Buck nods, realizing all at once how, his own newly realized feelings aside, most best friends don’t kneel between their bro’s legs and rub their thumbs soothingly along their bro’s knees.
“Pretty sure I’m in love with you,” Buck says, smiling softly when Eddie’s hands still in surprise. “Think maybe you might love me too.”
“Of course I love you,” Eddie says without hesitation. “You know I love you.”
“Not like this,” Buck says. “But I didn’t realize I loved you like that until a week ago, so I can’t judge you for being slow on the uptake here.”
“I..” Eddie says, hands still gripping Buck’s knees as he processes. “I didn’t think I was allowed to love you like that.”
“Definitely allowed,” Buck says. “Actively encouraged, actually.”
“I don’t even know if I like men,” Eddie says. “What do I do with this, Buck?”
“Me, ideally,” Buck jokes, just to make Eddie laugh. “But seriously, you don’t have to have it all figured out. It’d be enough just to know I’m not alone in this.”
“I’m with you,” Eddie says. “Not sure where we are, but I’m always with you.”
“Kiss me?” Buck asks. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since you scrubbed green paint from my face.”
Eddie doesn’t answer just yet, but he does move his hands from Buck’s knees, trailing his fingertips up his sides and shoulders, before linking his long fingers at the base of Buck’s head and tilting his face down just as he leans up the last inch to press a kiss to his mouth.
Buck reaches out and wraps his arms around Eddie’s chest, pulling him snug into the space between his legs as they kiss. It’s not the most comfortable angle if he’s honest, but Eddie’s tongue is tracing the line of the smile he can’t quite keep off his face, and he finds he couldn’t care less about a little awkward stretching.
“Get off the floor,” Buck says when Eddie pulls away, chest heaving and flushed red under the collar of his white t-shirt.
“Good idea,” Eddie rasps, standing gingerly and stretching out his knees carefully before bending them again as he crawls into Buck’s lap without hesitation.
“Fuck,” Buck says, leaning back at Eddie’s gentle shove and letting Eddie cover him with is own body.
“Not yet,” Eddie says, with a nervous laugh he can’t quite smother. “Gonna need to work up to that one.”
“Whatever you want,” Buck says, gasping when Eddie rolls his hips down as he leans in to kiss Buck again.”
“It can’t be that hard, right?” Eddie asks when they break apart again. “Jerking another guy off, I mean. Can’t be that different.”
“I promise you it’s hard,” Buck says, nonsensically. “So hard.”
“Not you, dumbass,” Eddie says fondly. “The actual process.”
“Oh,” Buck says, nodding. “Yeah, it’s easy. Just a weird angle.”
“Good,” Eddie says, before unceremoniously shoving Buck’s shorts and boxers down just enough to wrap a hand around his dick.
“What the fuuuck,” Buck moans as Eddie rolls his palm across the head and slicks his hand with pre-come before starting up a steady pace as he attacks Buck’s neck with biting kisses. “Your fucking hands, Eds. I can’t.”
“Pretty sure you can,” Eddie laughs into Buck’s throat. “You’re so hot in my hand, it never feels like this when I jerk myself off.”
“I am going to come in like ten seconds,” Buck warns. “And you don’t get to make fun of me for it, because it’s all your fault.”
“I’d never tease you for taking pleasure from me,” Eddie drawls. “Unless that’s something you’re into, of course.”
“Who even are you?” Buck asks, incredulously, as Eddie quickens his pace and manages to repeatedly hit the spot right under the head that turns Buck’s spine to molten liquid.
“The man in love with you, apparently,” Eddie says, grinning wickedly before giving Buck a fond look and kissing him softly, again and again, until Buck stiffens in his hand and beneath his thighs, spilling messily over Eddie’s hand and his own shirt.
“Quick study,” Buck says as he catches his breath. “Let me touch you?”
Eddie nods eagerly, lifting his hips obligingly so Buck can shove his clothes down enough to be able to touch him.
“Why does the lube have to be so far away,” Eddie moans as Buck’s hand catches just a touch too dryly.
“Here,” Buck says, grabbing Eddie’s come-covered hand and wrapping it around his dick, covering Eddie’s hand with his own as he spreads the come around like slick.
“Buck,” Eddie gasps helplessly at the filthiness of it, twitching in his own hand until Buck knocks his hand away and takes his place, pumping Eddie at a rough pace, his clean hand reaching up and into Eddie’s hair, tugging it tightly as he pulls Eddie in for another kiss.
“We have forever to work on stamina,” Buck says when he pulls away from the kiss. “I want you to come all over me, Eds. Mark me up.”
Eddie groans, slumping forward as he complies, shooting off so hard that Buck’s lips and cheek get splattered with it.
“Nice,” Buck says, come dripping from his face and over his satisfied smirk.
He licks his lips, humming at the taste of Eddie on them, and Eddie thinks he might just die before they even get to blowjobs.
“This is not where I thought the night was going,” Eddie says later, when they’re clean and wrapped up around each other in bed, no morning alarm needed for once.
“You complaining, Diaz?” Buck huffs, pressing a kiss into the chest he’s resting on, and then another one for good measure.
Eddie shakes his head, throat suddenly tight around the words and the love he feels for this ridiculous man.
“Not even a little.”
The End