#i s2g if tumblr doesn't stop fucking up my formatting

[elisela]

come (from) away with me buck x eddie, 1k for:  @lifeinkinder who asked for Buck doing theater as a form of therapy

Eddie’s not going to laugh, because he’s not an asshole, but—he kind of wants to. Just a little, when he sees how Buck scuffs his foot onto the wood floor at the back of the stage before looking out into the audience again, eyes searching over the rows for the third time since Eddie slipped into the rehearsal and took the seat in the darkened last row. It’s so like Buck, to extend an invitation with such casual sincerity, only to get flustered once Eddie took him up on it. It occurs to Eddie, as Buck looks up from under his lashes again, that he’s probably not visible past the bright stage lights, and when the director stops the ongoing scene to give a few notes, he takes the opportunity to jog quietly down the aisle and take a seat a few rows up from the stage.

The smile that spreads over Buck’s flushed cheeks when he glances up again makes Eddie forget how to breathe.

He’s not used to this feeling with Buck—being in love with him, that’s nothing new, feeling the slow slide of desire through his veins, the rush of gratitude, the giddiness, contentment—that’s all been there, he’s felt all for years now. But letting Buck see that? Three months isn’t long enough for him to get used to it; he still catches himself hiding sometimes, turning away when Buck looks at him a little too intensely, flushing when his touches linger. But here, in a dark theater, he’s free to love without reservation, without the quiet discomfort of being seen, of being watched in return.

Contrary to popular belief, Buck and Eddie do not spend all of their time together. They’re still in the stage that they want to—that had come long before they started dating—but Eddie’s a single father, no matter how much help Buck is, so his alone time with Christopher is precious, and Buck has his sister and newborn niece to bond with. They manage a date night once a week, and Buck stays over at least once during their off days, but other than that, they’re still trying to give each other space. Eddie knows himself, he knows how he gets when he feels trapped into something, and he’s trying his best to make sure that doesn’t happen.

He’d known for the last year that Buck was trying out different forms of emotional expression—a replacement for a therapist, if you asked Eddie, yet no one did—drums were briefly thought about then reconsidered, painting ended with more paint on Buck and Chris than the canvases in front of them, and Eddie had put a stop to carving when a stubby blade mysteriously—through no fault of Buck’s, he swore up and down—gotten jammed into the heel of Buck’s palm. Theater had been the next choice, and Eddie was happy that it had been going so well. He’d done a few group classes, auditioned for a play at Eddie’s encouragement, and had been so pleased when he’d gotten the text about being cast that he’d pulled Eddie in for a hug and kissed him.

Eddie’s heard him running lines for the last few weeks, has sat around a table with the rest of the team reading out of photocopied scripts, but up until this morning, he hadn’t known about the singing. After Buck had invited him to watch dress rehearsal, he’d let it drop that he was nervous about singing in front of an audience, and Eddie had thankfully kept his face schooled into a concerned expression. Buck’s a decent singer—he’s heard him in the car and kitchen enough to know that he’s not tone-deaf, but he’s not particularly good, either, and Eddie’s been nervous for him since he’d admitted it.

So he sinks low into his seat, keeps his phone in his back pocket even though he’s restless for something to do with his hands when Buck’s not the one speaking, and he listens. Musicals have never been his thing, but he can be a supportive partner, and if it’s important to Buck, it’s important to him.

Everything is fine—right until the moment Buck opens his mouth and the Prayer of St. Francis comes out. Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s moved to the edge of his seat until the end, when Buck moves towards the back of the stage again, and he has to wipe tears from his eyes to see clearly. He may not be a practicing Catholic, but he certainly grew up as one, and the song is hitting him hard, weaving together memories of sitting tucked into Abuela’s side during Mass with the feeling of Chris and Buck curled up on either side of him on the couch, all the comfort and peace of those moments wrapping around him like a blanket in the middle of a darkened theater. The feeling stays with him until Buck jokes that they’d ended up in the gayest town in Canada, and the laughter of someone a few rows behind him snaps him out of it.

At the end, he’s standing and clapping along with the handful of people in the audience, whistling when Buck takes a bow. It takes a few minutes for Buck to get down to him, but when he does, he’s hugging him hard and Eddie can’t help but lean in and kiss him. “You were so good,” he says before Buck has a chance to ask, smiling as he watches Buck’s face light up and kissing him again. “Star of the show for sure.”

“It’s an ensemble, but that’s really nice to hear,” Buck says, face bright and cheerful as he pulls away and grabs Eddie by the hand. “I know we didn’t plan to go out, but you wanna? We have a quick meeting, but I’m free after that.”

“I have to go pick up Chris,” he says, lifting their joined hands to glance at his watch; the sight of their interlaced fingers reminds him of prayerful hands, and the peaceful feeling he had earlier is back, stronger. “Come home with us,” he says, tugging Buck closer and wrapping him into a hug. “I’ll pick up some food on the way and maybe you can stay for awhile.”

“I stayed last night,” Buck says, amused.

“You can stay again,” Eddie says. “Tonight, maybe tomorrow night, maybe every night after that, too.”

“Sounds a lot like moving in,” Buck says, and Eddie feels him move slightly just before his lips are pressed below Eddie’s ear. “And they call me the impulsive one.”

“Not impulsive,” Eddie says, kissing his cheek before letting go and moving away, “just ready. See ya at home, Buck.” He jogs up the stairs before Buck can answer, knowing that the Jeep will be in his driveway by the time he gets home with Chris, hoping that Buck will at least bring some clothes with him and they can talk about him moving in. It may seem impulsive, but hearing the lines of the prayer had made him realize that the feeling he had with Buck at his side was never anything near trapped—it was peace. Because he and Buck? They’ve always spoken the same language.

AN: @firstdegreefangirl is amazing for basically telling me what to write and then enduring me saying “just one more question!” about 72 times. I adore her. Here is a clip of the song Buck sings as Kevin T., the one in the red plaid.

#i s2g if tumblr doesn't stop fucking up my formatting #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #this is straight cheese #featuring references to a musical i know nothing about