Chapter Text
“I cannot believe you ratted on me!” Buck hisses, stabbing a finger into Eddie’s side. Buck feels as right as rain after his two-day heat and a weekend of resting and basking in his Alpha’s presence. Having a healthy, requited bond apparently works wonders–the aches in his body, the pain in his joints, and the agony of a decaying bond has been washed away by Eddie’s leather, cinnamon, and undertones of peppery spices scent, and Buck is feeling better than ever.
“I didn’t mean to! You know how bad I am with technology; how am I supposed to know it was the wrong message chat?” Eddie yelps when Buck gets him right between the ribs again, jerking away from him as they walk into the station. “I apologized already, stop poking me,” Eddie bares his teeth, a joke intimidation that’s meant to warn him; however, Buck rolls his eyes and pokes his Alpha one last time before skipping past the large, open bay doors, a smile on his face at Eddie’s grumbled mutters behind him.
Even though he’s been at Eddie’s home for nearly two weeks, he missed the station. It’s always been home for him, when he was still living in a frat house, when he was living with Abby, and his short stint on Chimney’s couch. The station has always been home to him. The place where he finally found a purpose after bouncing around the U.S. and Peru, where the feeling of rightness settled into his bones when he took a seat at the dining table and gathered the first bite of food on his fork.
Eddie’s hand slips into his, tugging him along from where he’s been standing between the two engines for at least a minute, walking them toward the changing room. “C’mon,” he mutters, squeezing his fingers and sharing a smile with him as Buck trots beside him, bouncing on his feet with every step. “I can’t tell if you were more excited about our mating or finally coming back to work.”
“Work,” Buck says, all grins and snickers as Eddie rolls his eyes. Nothing has changed—past them being able to kiss, fuck, and talk about things long since hidden under the “he doesn’t like me back” excuse—and it feels nice being BuckandEddie. “Definitely work,” Buck snickers when Eddie groans a bit louder, snapping his teeth at him and mumbling something in Spanish under his breath that Buck can’t catch as their hands untangle as they open their lockers.
They work in tandem, opening their duffel bags to dig their work clothes out, exchanging soft, muttered conversation—Chris said he wanted simple pasta for tonight; we’ll have to swing by the grocery store after shift. Okay, I think we also need almond milk, too. Yeah, I used the last for my coffee this morning. Do we need a list, cariño? Nah, it’s two things, my milk and a red onion.—between them as they get dressed with the same efficiency they’ve had every shift.
Their lockers fly close simultaneously, and their fingers interlace once more as they leave the locker room. As they walk through the station, it feels nice, this calm moment with his Alpha—which he knows will soon be broken by whistled congratulations and good-hearted jeers. Buck has never known peace like this as long as he’s lived, but he’s not surprised Eddie is the one to bring him this sort of comfort with just their fingers interlaced.
“Cap’s office first,” Eddie mutters, walking them toward the office. Buck nods, a smile sticking to his face as he hums a song he heard on the radio on their drive over, tapping the rhythm into Eddie’s knuckle with his finger as he does so. The station is mostly silent, with C-shift stragglers coming out of the woodworks to wave sleepily to them and head out, freshly showered or having woken up from a small post-shift nap for enough energy to make it home. Buck can hear Hen, Chimney, and Bobby upstairs, raucous laughter echoing from the loft. He can’t hear what’s being said, but from Eddie’s occasional eye-roll, it’s probably something stupid.
They duck into Bobby’s office and find two folders with their names on them on the man’s desk. The simple manila folders send their bond thrumming with hints of anxiety and excitement. The proof of their bond lives on their necks for everyone to see, but this makes it all feel real. As if writing it on official LAFD papers, having it stamped and approved is the pinnacle of acknowledgment of their bond, settling something deeper into their bones and hearts.
He and Eddie sit in the two chairs in front of Bobby’s desk, grabbing the two pens sitting next to the folders as they flip them open simultaneously. Eddie takes a moment to hook his ankle around his and pull it close, rubbing his socked ankle bone gently to provide comfort to him as they start to sift through the forms. It’s a stack of relationship disclosure forms, mating disclosure forms, address change forms, waivers, and forms that basically add up to no, I won’t go absolutely feral if my mate gets flirted with on the job and no, I won’t lose my absolute mind when my mate is in peril, I will lose it as a concerned teammate and not as a mate. It’s a lot of signing, checking boxes, signatures, and whispered discussions and grumbles as the stack finally gets smaller for what they have to finish.
When he gets to the address change forms, Buck stalls, pen hovering over the question, ‘Has your address changed recently?’ His pen tip hovers over no, ready to check it and move on because it hasn’t; he wonders if it will in that small part of himself he finds growing day by day, sprigs of hope popping up with every thought of his and Eddie’s future together.
“Eddie?” Buck mutters, clicking his pen to keep his hands busy, licking his lips when Eddie looks up, a stray strand of chocolate brown hair falling onto his forehead. “T-The address change form…”
Eddie raises an eyebrow, dragging Buck’s folder over his to look at it, humming silently. Buck tries to keep himself from fidgeting, but now he’s twirling the pen between his fingers, teeth gnawing on the corner of his lip. The ball is in Eddie’s court, and he’s half-expecting to see the brunet check the no box as well, but instead, Eddie checks yes. Then, with that lazy yet elegant scrawl the man has, he writes down 4995 South Bedford St in such a straightforward manner as if he’s unaware of what he’s doing to Buck’s heart. It’s ramming against his ribcage, and the fuzzy warmth in his waterline makes him gulp.
“We’ll probably have to find a bigger place eventually, because four people in a two-bed, one bath is a recipe for disaster, but we can always submit another form when we get around to that,” Eddie says, sliding the papers back to him, eyes still on the folders as if he hasn’t torn Buck’s insecurity to ribbons and shreds with a single line of words—their home address—and filled him with a warmth he wasn’t aware he was shivering for. Finally, Eddie looks up when Buck can only stammer out weak sounds that cannot be called words, his shoulders jerking up slightly when he looks at him. “Woah- hey, hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Eddie croons, shifting their chairs to face one another as his big, warm hands cradle his face and wipe away tears Buck hadn’t realized were there.
“S-Sorry,” Buck hiccups, sniffling and trying to bury his face in Eddie’s palms. “I, just… you want me to move in?” Buck whimpers, gulping down a thick wad of saliva as he watches Eddie’s brown eyes trace the lines of his face and follow every tear that streaks down his face.
“Buck, baby,” It’s said in such a way that makes Buck start crying for a completely different reason, “Of course I do, I’d be a pretty shit Alpha if I made you go back to that fucking apartment, even if your sister is there.” Eddie’s face darkens at the mention of the apartment—Abby’s apartment—as if he wills it, it’ll catch ablaze. “Mi vida, you are carrying our pup; there is no other place that I want you to live other than with me and Chris at 4995 South Bedford Street,” Buck whines softly, accepting the kiss Eddie pulls him into, eyes slipping shut as tears continue to drip down his face. “That’s where I want you, with me, with Chris.”
“O-Okay,” Buck keens against Eddie’s lips, sniffling and accepting the tissue Eddie fishes from the small box Bobby has on his desk. He wipes his face, blows his nose, tosses it into the trashcan beside the desk in front of him, and tries to make himself not look like a mess, but it’s not working all that well. “S-Sorry for crying. I dunno w-what came over me,” Buck sniffles, pulling his phone out to open the camera and check his face for anything he missed. His eyelashes are clumped together, and his eyes are slightly red-rimmed, but otherwise, Buck looks fine.
“You don’t have to apologize, baby. Now, do we have any more forms left?” Buck shakes his head, licking his lips, and patting his face.
“No more, that was all of them…” he mutters, returning the pens to the cup of them and closing the folders. Eddie stacks them and sets them in front of Bobby’s keyboard, holding a hand out for him as the Alpha stands.
“Alright, now let's go see what jeers and jabs the rest of them have for us and what Bobby has cooking; it smells good.” Eddie tugs him close, their chests pressing together and Eddie’s free hand coming down to cup his hip. “I love you, don’t forget it, baby.” Eddie’s eyes are filled with such love that Buck feels like he’s losing a race for how much love he can show Eddie, but that’s stupid because Eddie knows he loves him.
“I love you too,” Buck smiles, relishing in the squeeze to his hip. Eddie smiles that soft, warm smile that turns his insides to goo and tugs him out of Bobby’s office and up the steps, where the rest of the pack has clearly been awaiting their arrival.
Hen is the first to spot them, and with a broad smile on her face, she jumps up to greet them. “Welcome back! Oh, my god, please never be gone at the same time again; we’ve missed you guys!” Buck preens as she pulls him into a hug, petting his hair and giggling at his purring laughs as he basks in the warmth of his pack and pseudo-sister. “I missed my golden retriever; how are you? Eddie’s been feeding you?” Hen pulls back with that calculating paramedic eye roving up and down his body, squeezing his biceps and making him laugh.
“I have been feeding him, thank you very much. I am right here, you know,” Eddie huffs, a grin on his face as he welcomes Chim into a half-hug and fist-bump. Hen rolls her eyes but goes to hug Eddie as well, letting him slip away and right into Bobby’s awaiting arms. There’s no better feeling than sinking into your pseudo-sire’s arms, grinning, and Bobby presses a kiss into the crown of his head.
“Welcome back, kid. Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Bobby smiles and pats his head, beckoning him into the kitchen as Hen and Chimney team up in teasing Eddie about something—Buck escapes the moment ‘sperm’ is mentioned, and Bobby is quick to follow him, wanting nothing to do with that conversation—when a small plate is put in front of him, with two large red velvet cupcakes that have him salivating. “For you, as a small congratulations for finding your happiness and for a small welcome back.”
“Cap,” Buck warbles out, voice wavering and eyes zeroed in on the cupcakes. “You’re gonna make me cry.” Bobby smiles and claps him on the shoulder, squeezing it before pushing the plate forward. Buck doesn’t stop himself from digging in, groaning when he finds the cupcake to be still warm, the cream cheese frosting whipped to perfection, and it’s, well, glorious.
Eddie slides up to press against his side when he’s halfway through wolfing down the second cupcake, a raised eyebrow sent in his direction. He hugs the half-eaten cupcake close, narrowing his eyes at his Alpha, who smiles and kisses his cheek, tongue darting out to lick a dollop of frosting off the corner of his mouth. “All yours, baby. Don’t gotta get all territorial.” Eddie squeezes his hip and guides him to sit on a barstool before taking the one next to him, hand never leaving his hip as the Alpha grins at Bobby. “Papers all filled out on your desk, Bobby. All ready to be filed.” Bobby sends them a smile and a thumbs up as Hen and Chimney amble over, twin grins on their faces.
“God, they’re going to be insufferable, aren’t they?” Chimney asks, and Buck snorts around his mouthful of cupcake. Hen hums and grins at him, winking as she pats Chimney on the shoulder.
“Oh, they’ll be terrible—worse than you and Maddie,” Hen snickers as Chimney squawks, and Buck chokes. He swallows the mouthful of cupcake and sits up, narrowing his eyes at the sputtering Beta.
“What about you and Maddie?” Buck pins Chim with his stare, watching the man flail and gape, turning a betrayed look toward Hen, who checks her phone and whistles as she walks off. “Chimney!” Buck shoots up and darts after the fleeing Beta, very ready to get answers.
-
It’s late, Buck knows, but he can’t sleep. They’re twenty hours into a forty-eight, and Buck is raiding the upstairs fridge, the sudden need for food hitting him during a four a.m. Wikipedia spiral, and sleep has been dodging him, so here he is.
There’s a mix of ingredients pulled out from the fridge on the counter, and Buck is trying to find the thing that will pull them all together, nibbling on his lips as he sifts through the packed fridge. It’s been a month since he’s returned to work, and after three positive pregnancy tests and a hospital-issued one, Buck is officially on semi-light duty. He’s still going on calls, but he’s mostly manning crowd control, helping Hen—because he does have EMT certs and multiple textbooks of knowledge engrained in his brain—and working the hoses instead of being in the fire. It still settles the need to help inside of him, and he’s surprisingly not chomping at the bit or climbing the walls for more action.
He’s pretty sure it’s because his body knows he has a passenger nestled inside of him, and the adrenaline rush he gets helping at the scenes is enough to satiate him. Bobby had explained it all to him that he will be needed if it’s an all-hands-on-deck alarm, and he’s still pulling his weight, using his heavy rescue skills to guide Eddie through maneuvers he doesn’t know as well as Buck does, or manning the winch and driving the engine.
It feels good, satiates the beast inside of him, and there’s no niggling doubt that he’s not pulling his weight and he’ll be replaced when he’s fatter than a damn whale in eight months.
“Aha,” Buck whispers as he pulls out a pickle jar, grinning at the contents. They’re the sliced hamburger pickles instead of the whole, but they’ll work for what he needs. He shoves everything that doesn’t call his name back into the fridge where he got it, humming a silent tune under his breath. Everyone is still asleep, so he’s being as q-word as he can, with the only light source being the overhead oven light. It’s enough, and thanks to his Omega sub-gender, he generally has better night vision and vision in general. He also has a better sniffer than Alphas, who get enhanced hearing, good enough night vision, and a general boost in the strength area.
Buck swishes his hips and starts to make his concoction, grabbing a paper plate from the stack—while they do have regular plates, he’s too lazy to grab one, and the paper plates make no noise as they clatter on the counter. He places two pieces of untoasted white bread onto the plate, grabs the Nutella and a knife, and slathers the hazelnut spread onto the bread. It’s a healthy layer that makes him grin as he switches the tune he’s humming to a different song stuck in the radio in his head, grabbing the marshmallow fluff—after cleaning his knife, of course, he’s not a cross-contaminator!—and slathering on another healthy, generous layer of it.
It’s almost perfect, and any other day, he’d eat it just like this—because when Bobby isn’t awake, Buck likes to revert back to Buck 0.0 and eat whatever unhealthy things packed full of preservatives and would make Bobby crucify him if he were to see him doing this—but the pickles are calling his name, and so is the hot-sauce he’s decided to pull from the fridge when returning the bread. His love for all things spicy—and the love of watching people's reactions when they see a typical white guy with blond hair and blue eyes eat outrageously spicy stuff without batting an eye—and Eddie’s love for all things spicy as well has conjoined with the need for hot sauce on everything.
Yes, Eddie did catch him dumping some hot sauce into his coffee a week ago, but he doesn’t regret it; it was pretty good!
Buck hums as he pops the lid of the pickle jar, popping two in his mouth as he covers one half of his sandwich in them, bobbing his head to the beat of the song in his head. With a final flurry of pickles and a heavy drizzle of hot sauce, his 4 a.m. craving is complete. Buck purrs gently as he returns all the ingredients to their rightful place, sitting down and pulling his phone out as he digs into his masterpiece. It’s absolutely perfect and soothes the craving he’s had for the past six hours as he eats half of it in three big bites.
“You are not getting any kisses unless you brush your teeth after… that,” Eddie’s voice makes him jump. He finds the Alpha sleep-mussed and rubbing it out of his eyes, his hair a mess from sleep. Eddie looks soft and warm, and his. It makes a lump form in his throat as he swallows his mouthful, legs swinging from where he’s sat on the barstool. “I almost want to be disgusted, but you look too cute and happy.” Eddie walks over to press against his back and press a kiss to his temple, making Buck purr as the man presses his weight into him, warm against his back.
“Tastes good,” Buck hums, licking a dollop of hot sauce off his lip. “What are you doing up?” he asks, taking another bite of his sandwich and ignoring Eddie’s grimace at the mish-mash of smells that are surely assaulting his poor Alpha’s nose at four am.
“I should be asking you that, but I woke up to grab water and couldn’t find you, so I went looking,” Eddie mutters, voice like gravel and chocolate, making gooseflesh rise on his skin. “Found you eating this… interesting concoction.”
Buck grins and polishes it off with one last bite, licking his thumb to get a streak of Nutella off of it. “I couldn’t sleep, and I’ve been thinking of this sandwich for, like, six hours, Eddie, and finally decided after another hour of tossing to get it.”
“I’m not judging… much,” Eddie grins at his petulant huff, gently pressing a kiss above his scent patch and rubbing his flank. “Why don’t we try and get some more sleep, hm? I’m sure Bobby wouldn’t mind you and I sharing a bunk.” The soft, slow kisses pressed into the column of his neck and cheeks make him all gooey inside, a yawn cracking his mouth open, eyes fluttering as waves of exhaustion hit him simultaneously. “Mm, let’s go sleep, sweetheart.”
Buck whines a bit when he’s pulled to his feet, eyelids trying to close, and feet not cooperating. Eddie throws away his plate and gets Buck and himself a water bottle before guiding him down the steps and into the bunkroom. The bunks are big enough to toss around comfortably but barely big enough for two six-foot men. It’ll be a bit of a tight squeeze, but after his cravings for the day have been satiated, he wants to be as close to his Alpha as he can get without crawling into Eddie’s skin.
Buck is laid down first with gentle nudges from Eddie, and Eddie is quick to crawl into bed with him after placing their water bottles on the small nightstands the bunks have. A tiny bit of silent maneuvering gets them into the perfect position: Buck lies right into the curve of Eddie’s side, legs tangled together, and Buck’s head on Eddie’s shoulder. Buck hums into Eddie’s shoulder, a yawn cracking his mouth open once more as he sinks into the welcoming arms of sleep with a tender kiss to the top of his head from Eddie and a whispered, “Sleep, baby.”
-
Buck is almost surprised it took this long for him to break. Standing in Eddie’s bathroom—soon to be their bathroom, because they’re finally set to move in together this week, even though he’s been living at Eddie’s house ninety percent of the time. He’s standing in front of their mirror, throat tight and chest tighter. The sun has barely set, and he’s suddenly stepping foot in that dingy hotel room in Montana, twenty-one and terrified. It’s something he’d like to forget—a romp with another ranch hand and fleeting promises that never took flight—because even though he loved working on that stupid dude ranch, surrounded by sprawling mountains and horses that loved him, it ended in a way that left a permanent marker on his soul.
It hurts to remember how much love and anguish he felt in such a short span. He’s two months pregnant, not even showing—he’s a big guy, and there is very ample space for his pup to hide from the world inside of him, as his doctor said—but he can tell from the changes he’s going through. They’re as foreign and familiar to him that it sends a burning ache through him.
His grip on the porcelain sink makes him surprised it hasn’t cracked under it. His arms are shaking minutely, and his knuckles are pale white. He’s supposed to be brushing his teeth right now, but something about the lighting, the glow he carries—Eddie’s described it as if his skin has been bathed in the sun when they’re at the beach, this twenty-four-seven pregnancy glow looking good on him—he hasn’t seen until now, of all days.
He’s unaware of the tears slipping down his cheeks, vision blurry as he remembers. He remembers feeling his body changing a lifetime ago, accommodating a second life inside of him—a second heartbeat, a second presence—and the burst of feelings it came with. He was fine doing it alone, and he knew if something like this ever happened, Buck would settle down, love the second soul nestled beside his, and do this by himself. He’s always been alone and hadn’t thought of a sire hanging around to help him.
When it happened, Buck knew in his heart, right in that tangle of confusing instincts that were never adequately explained to him, that he couldn’t tell the Alpha who helped put the second little heartbeat inside of him. Instead, he hid it, and in his stupid little hotel he was renting by the week, he’d allow himself to feel every emotion—love, anxiety, bliss, excitement, fear—he’d kept a lock on.
Two months in, the longest he’s stayed in one place, it all took a nosedive. The blood, the anguish, the waking up soaked in sweat, sobbing and begging for a god he hadn’t been brought up believing to please, please, don’t take this from me, don’t take him away. Buck had only been two months along, but even then, he had a feeling it’d be a boy. He spent days scrolling forums and daydreaming, and everywhere he’d go, the name ‘Elliot’ would pop up. Days before it all happened, he’d rave to himself, cup the barely-there bump on his slim form, and talk to his Elliot. That night, he knew, deep inside of him, that his little Elliot was dying.
His little Elliot, the baby boy who had carved out a part of Buck’s soul and made it his, was leaving him just like everyone else did. His precious pup wasn’t ready for the world, and the world wasn’t ready for him, so they took him away from Buck. In that hotel, staining the sheets with his blood—his Elliot’s blood—his sweat, and his tears that didn’t stop even as he sunk into a drop, so vicious and yearning for his pup who never came to be, he doesn’t remember much past the drop, only the crash of his door being wrenched open by paramedics and the mid-forties woman EMT who cradled his head and hushed him as he cried for a pup too good for this world gone too soon as they wheeled him out of the hotel room and into the ambulance.
“Buck?” Eddie appears by his side within a blink, making him jerk and swallow thick and heavy. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? I can smell your distress.” Eddie’s big, worried cow eyes make him shatter, his head dropping to cry and weep silently, not wanting to wake Christopher. “Woah, woah, what’s going on, cariño?” Eddie soothes him, bringing Buck into his arms, but Buck’s grief takes him out at the knees, crumbling to the ground and dragging Eddie down. Eddie’s taking all his weight, tucking him into his body. His legs are over Eddie’s, and Eddie’s knees are tucked against his sides, his head nestled in Eddie’s scent gland, and his hands shake as they fist the front of his Alpha’s shirt. Eddie’s scent of cinnamon, peppery spices, and leather envelops him, but it’s still not enough to curb his grief.
“Eddie,” he weeps, hiccuped sobs echoing in the quiet bathroom. His cries are near-silent, a habit he hasn’t been able to shake ever since he learned how to quietly cry when he was four. It’s been twenty-four years since he was four; however, his cries are still silent.
“Buck,” Eddie whispers, staring at Buck and cradling him close. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Eddie doesn’t know what’s happening; one second, he is sitting in bed waiting for Buck to get out of the bathroom, and then next, their bond is flooding with distress and the acrid scent—so close to that day, the day Buck dropped right in front of his very eyes—of pain and grief reaching his nose. His senses have been turned up ten notches ever since he and Buck mated, and he’s always been aware of Buck, but now, it’s like his sixth sense has formed, and it’s named ‘Buck.’
He hadn’t even thought to keep his footfalls quiet as he launched himself off the bed and swept into the bathroom to find Buck almost catatonic, staring at himself in the mirror, crying with a silence that’s always disturbed him.
“Baby, I need you to talk to me,” Eddie mutters, trying not to panic. In this scenario, he needs to be calm, but he’s scared for Buck and his pup. His heart batters against his chest, and he swallows thickly. His hands card through Buck’s soft blond hair, which is starting to grow out a bit, the whispers of telltale curls making Eddie’s heart squeeze. “Evan,” he whispers, pushing a bit of Alpha command into using his mate’s first name. It gets a reaction, a whimpered keen pressed into the hollow of his throat, tears soaking his grey t-shirt.
“W-...When I was twenty-one,” Buck whispers, and Eddie’s heart turns to stone. Buck’s medical history the team has been told of—because with Buck having two drops to his name, the whole team had to be briefed on the signs—say Buck’s second drop was when he was twenty-one.
Eddie doesn’t like where this is going.
“I… I dropped. I-I know y’u know that, b-but what brought it on…” Oh, yeah, Eddie does not like where this is going. “I was in Montana… workin’ on a ranch, a-and there was this ranch hand who w’urked with me… His na-name was L-Levi, I thin’?” Buck mutters, words slurred past whimpered sobs and hiccuping sounds that stab right into Eddie’s heart. He holds Buck as tightly as he can without hurting him, wishing for their atoms to fuse so he can take Buck’s hurt and settle it in his soul, pack it into bleeding bullet wounds, and ease Buck’s aches and grief. “H-He was nice… handsome Alpha, n’t as hand’ome as you, though. B-But, I was twenty-one, and he liked me, an’ I liked him… A-After a, ah, you-... you get it,” Buck’s head is still tucked into his neck, breathing in his scent by the lungful, sobs stuttering, and words slurred. Whenever Buck gets weepy, his tongue gets loose.
Eddie stares at the ceiling, willing the jaws of jealousy lined with sharp, yellowing teeth not to close around his neck. He knows that Buck is his, as shown by the mark he gently caresses with his thumb. He still hates this story because he feels he won’t like how it ends.
“I… I got pregnant,” a whine rips from Eddie’s chest, eyes stinging and burning with a warmth even though his body turns as cold as ice. He holds Buck close, hooking his ankles together and trapping the blond in his embrace. Buck doesn’t mind it because he sinks deeper into him, so big yet so small in his arms. “It… I was happy, y’know? S-So happy, but I knew… knew I couldn’t tell ‘im… so I kept it a secret, ju…just me and my pup against the world.” The way Buck says it makes grief rear in his chest, a single tear slipping down his face. Buck sounds so… happy, full of the blissful knowledge that a second soul is growing inside him.
Buck sounds just like he did when he realized he was pregnant after they woke up on the supposed third day of Buck’s head, and it was over.
“Two… uhm, two months in… nothing could have put a damper on my spirit. I… I had a name picked out be-because there was just this… feeling inside of me that knew I was having a baby boy… I chose the name Elliot; it was… was everywhere, and it was a sign, y’know? The universe screaming at me this is your baby boy’s name!” A wry chuckle leaves Buck’s mouth, but it’s cut off with a mighty, body-shaking sob that the blond crushes into the hollow of Eddie’s neck. He knows he’s crying, crying for a little pup—Elliot—his beautiful mate never got to meet. He knows exactly where this story goes because Buck isn’t hiding a seven-year-old, and he can only imagine how he’d feel if Chris died before he even got to meet him.
It was Eddie who named his pup, after all. In those silent lulls between arguments, days before he needed to get to basic training, Eddie had proposed the name Christopher if they had a baby boy. Shannon liked the name better than her Max. He hadn’t even thought of a girl's name before they were arguing again, and Eddie was leaving to start basic training.
“I woke up… one night, caked in sweat. I didn’t feel well earlier and decided to fall asleep early. I thought I had to throw up, and when I… when I, uhm, pulled the covers off, I… there was so much blood,” the whispered confession feels like a boulder has settled on Eddie’s chest, crushing his ribs and heart in one fell swoop. “I… I knew, right there, that my Elliot was gone… my baby, Eddie, my baby. Gone.”
“Evan,” Eddie whispers, weeping for a little boy that Buck has been silently mourning for seven years. “Oh, my love, my love,” Condolences don’t feel strong enough or right in this situation, gripping Buck tight and letting him cry and cry. His instincts are howling for him to soothe his Omega, pumping out comforting pheromones tinged with sadness. “I… fuck, cariño, you’ve been carrying this for so long…” Eddie is floundering, and he knows he is. What is he supposed to say? One wrong word could set Buck off, and that’s the last thing Eddie wants.
“I… I miss him, is-... is that stupid?” Buck whispers, pulling away just enough to press their foreheads together. They’re both a mess, tears falling and staining their cheeks. Buck’s eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, and he looks utterly exhausted and so young. It’s as if Eddie’s been thrown back in time, and he’s staring at a twenty-one-year-old Evan Buckley—because Buck didn’t exist until the fire academy two years ago—who just lost his baby.
“No, baby, no. That’s not stupid; he was your pup. You grew him in your body for months—your body changed for him; of course, it’s not stupid to miss him,” Eddie mutters, wiping Buck’s tears, but they keep falling. His have dried, and he feels no desire to wipe them off his cheeks, focused solely on Buck.
“I… I never met him, but I miss him so much, Eddie. I’ve never gone a day without thinking of him…” Buck whispers, sniffling wetly and staring down at his chest. “I… I’m scared our pup will end up like Elliot… like my body isn’t meant to grow life…” Buck whimpers, licking his lips and sniffling wetly.
“Oh, Evan.” Buck is breaking his heart all over again, shattering the shattered pieces till they’re nothing but fine, red dust. “You are, though. You aren’t defective; you are perfect. I have no doubt our pup will grow healthy and sound,” Eddie whispers, gripping Buck’s sides and pressing thumbs into his abdomen, making little circles and languid shapes there.
“Then why didn’t Elliot?” Buck cries, another flood of tears slipping down his face. “D-Did I do somethin’ wrong? Why’d they take my pup away, Eddie?” It hurts his soul to know Buck has cradled this grief like one would a babe for seven long years. He’s seen some of Buck’s photos from his travels, and back then, Buck was all baby-faced and broad smiles that’d light up the room even through a picture. He can’t see the beautiful boy in those photos with the one lying in a blood-soaked bed, crying for his Elliot he will never get to meet. There’s a disconnect there, one where Eddie simply cannot fit those two versions of Evan together.
“The world is cruel, baby… There’s no rhyme or reason to things sometimes. You didn’t do anything wrong—in fact, I’d bet you ate the healthiest when you knew about Elliot. Got all the vitamins, took care of yourself, didn’t sleep in your jeep, and instead rented a hotel room. Do you know what that tells me? You cared for this pup, baby. You did everything in your power to give Elliot the best chance, even if you two were robbed of it,” Buck whines soft and heavy in his throat, so choked with grief Eddie can taste it.
It tastes like ash.
“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s go to bed, okay? My ass is numb, and it’s not getting any better,” The attempt at humor—and truth, because his ass is numb—works and draws a watery laugh from Buck. They both stand, and Eddie sweeps Buck into his arms, gaining a gurgled squeak from the Omega, who clings to him as if Eddie is the only thing keeping him afloat in a sea of grief.
He probably is.
Buck is already drooping in his hold, eyelids fluttering, and shaky breaths evening out as Eddie ducks out of the bathroom and into his room. He sets his beautiful mate onto the mattress and tucks him into his preferred side. Eddie crawls in after, brushing away any stray tears that fall down Buck’s cheeks, bringing the covers up to their chins, and dragging his mate into his embrace. “Sleep, mi vida… sleep,” He wants to say everything will be okay, and god, he hopes it will be, but Buck needs sleep over any placating words Eddie can sling around.
Buck clings to him like he’ll disappear if he lets go, dropping off the edge of sleep. His lashes flutter, and his breaths finally smooth out. Eddie can only hope that Buck’s sleep is dreamless.
-
“Eddie, it’s a duffel bag and a suitcase; I can carry it!” Buck whines around the straw of his smoothie, glaring at him. They’ve finally made the trip to get all of Buck’s stuff from Abby’s apartment, his move-in official. Chris has been over the moon since they told him a week ago that Buck was finally moving in. He's barely letting Buck go anywhere without him, chattering about all the things they’ll be doing now that his Bucky will be living with him.
Namely, pancakes every morning. It is all Chris will talk about.
“And? Are you going to deprive me of my need to provide for my beautiful mate? Is that what you are going to do?” Eddie snarks, joking. He and Buck have been at a standstill for the past two minutes or so because Buck wants to carry his bags in, and Eddie wants to carry them as well. “Cruel, Evan Buckley, cruel…” he tsks, clicking his tongue and relishing in the impressive eye roll it gets out of Buck.
“Ugh, whatever, carry them; I’m going to go claim the non-creaky drawers,” Buck huffs, sticking his tongue out at Eddie, who is halfway through extracting Buck’s stupidly big suitcase from his backseat. Eddie freezes because he wants the non-creaky drawers. Half of his drawers squeak when you open them, and since they’re moving in together, they’ve agreed to rearrange Eddie’s dresser, and all of his clothes are currently sitting neatly folded on his bed.
“Woah, hold on now!” Eddie calls out, watching Buck walk toward the porch, backpack swung over his back. “Buck-!”
“Uhuh, can’t hear over your providing, Eddie!” Buck calls back, slurping his smoothie loudly—like a damn brat—and trots inside.
“Shit,” he whispers, getting Buck’s suitcase on the ground, duffel swung over his arm as he hip-checks the door closed, locking his truck. “He was getting them anyway, I suppose…” Buck would just bat his lashes at him, pad his ask for the non-squeaky drawers with a plaintive whine, and Eddie would crumble like a house of cards.
He knows that it’d work because that’s how Buck got him throwing out some of the old and cheesy decor he’d peppered around his house in favor of Buck’s decor—that he bought for Abby’s apartment when it was just him living there, which makes it slightly better because Buck didn’t buy them for Abby; if that were the case, they’d be burned or donated with haste—and how he got his nicer dishes into Eddie’s cabinets. Eddie tried to argue they have a clumsy eight-year-old in the house, but Buck kissed his argument away and told him they can keep both dishware sets.
Eddie conceded after the fourth kiss, just to draw it out.
Eddie trots up the walkway into the house, smiling as he passes the threshold. He knows that this is it; Buck is officially living with them. He already has been for the past two months, but it’s official now—on paper and in real life. He toes his shoes off, grinning as he nudges them beside Buck’s. Christopher’s are missing because the boy is at his Abuela’s getting some tender, loving Abuela time, and so he’ll be out of the inevitable chaos that comes with moving. It’s a lot less chaos this time around, but there are two boxes in the kitchen and one in the living room, and they’ll all need to be put around; things will be shuffled, duplicates will be weighted against one another, and see which one gets to stay.
He walks into his and Buck’s bedroom, setting the suitcase down on all four wheels and the duffel next to it before stalling at seeing his beautiful mate in their bed, curled around the various small piles of Eddie’s clothes. Buck’s eyes are closed, and there’s a gentle purr coming from him, glowing like the setting sun has painted him gold with its rays. It’s still mid-afternoon, though, but Buck is radiant.
“Hi,” he whispers, coming to sit by Buck’s head, carding his hand through soft blond locks that are finally starting to curl as Buck lets them grow out, having no desire to get a haircut. Buck’s eyes flutter open, pupils dilated, and an easy smile on his mate’s lips.
“Hi,” Buck mutters, leaning into his hands. “Mm, your clothes smell good…” Eddie grins at the admission. “Do we have to put them back?” The pout on his mate’s lips will never not make his heart wobble in his chest, and he aches to lean down and kiss it away, but Eddie does not bend that way, unfortunately.
“Yes, we do, precioso,” He snickers at Buck’s petulant whine, “But after we’re done, we can cuddle; I’ll scent you till you reek of me. How about that, hm?” Buck’s eyes slide open, pupils larger than ever, eating up the baby blue ring around them.
“Mm, sounds like a plan; now get organizing, Diaz,” Buck grins cheekily, purring as Eddie pinches his cheeks in retaliation. Eddie huffs quietly, picking up the first pile of clothes and putting them away. He’s never had enough clothes to fill up all his dresser drawers, but it’ll finally be full with the addition of Buck's clothes. He follows his Omega’s orders diligently, working with ease to put their things away. Buck’s clothes have been pre-folded in his suitcase to make it easier, and Eddie thanks all things good and holy that Abby’s scent has long since faded from the apartment, as the only trace scents on Buck’s clothes are Buck himself and Maddie.
With the final pile of clothes from Buck’s suitcase, Eddie is finished. It took longer than he expected—having found lingerie still in its package, he raised it up and got a sputtered explanation from Buck that it had arrived the week after Abby left, and Buck never got the desire to put it on after that, but maybe they can rewrite bad memories—but now he can cuddle his Omega, who is half-asleep and smiling with an ease that warms Eddie’s heart. Buck’s smiles had taken time to come back after the revelation of Elliot three weeks ago, but they’ve been returning slowly as time passes.
His scent no longer carries that undercurrent of grief that got multiple eye raises and worried whispers of asking if their pup was okay at work. A multitude of meals were brought to them because, apparently, Bobby had been stress-cooking over worrying about Buck, which caused Athena to stress-cook, which snowballed into everyone in their pack who could cook dropping off meals.
They still have a few sitting in the fridge and freezer, and it’s been nice not having to cook meals and get everything else in their life straightened out. Plus, he’d never make Buck cook after what happened in the bathroom three weeks ago; he’d be a pretty shit Alpha if he did.
“Mmm, Eddie,” Buck mutters as Eddie crawls atop him, caging him into the mattress and pressing soft kisses everywhere he can. His scent—sandy beaches, ocean waves, and fresh pastries—is fresh and sweet on Eddie’s nose, all light and airy. It holds a sweeter tint to it that he quickly notes as arousal—he spent two long, glorious days surrounded by it and committed it to memory during Buck’s heat—which brings a grin to his face. They haven’t had sex since Buck’s pregnancy started, but it feels right today to consummate the next step of their life: moving in.
“Buck,” Eddie croons, pressing an open-mouthed kiss into Buck’s neck, drinking in the sweet whimper-keen it gets from his mate. “All moved in… right into my den, fuck.” Eddie is finding with Buck that he has a possessive streak a mile wide, and having Buck right in his den, where he can keep him safe and sated, filled the gnashing, teeth-filled monster named ‘possessive’ inside of him calm. “My pretty Omega, right where I want him.” Eddie’s grin is all teeth, relishing in Buck’s sweet whine and rush of arousal-tinted scent flooding out of him.
His own scent mimics it, cock hardening as the twisting rush of stove-toasted peppery scents, new leather, and cinnamon whiskey of his aroused scent floods the air. He can feel Buck's rough, heavy inhales, pupils big and glassy with thin blue rings around them, and a foggy look in Buck’s eyes. His Omega is already flushed under him, cocks pressed together through the fabric.
“E-Eds, ah,” Buck’s whimper as Eddie ruts their hips together is music to his ears, capturing Buck’s lips in a kiss as the blond clings to his sides. “P-Please, please,” Buck mutters, whimpering another keen as their cocks fuck against one another, a messy, slow rutting of their hips that drives Eddie up the wall. His instincts are roaring at him to take his Omega, fuck another pup into his womb, and knot him till he’s too loose to take it.
“Mm, I’m right here, baby. Lift your hips.” Eddie is glad Buck decided to wear sweatpants because there is no way he could fumble his way through getting jeans off of Buck’s legs. Buck does as he’s asked, whining against his lips when he presses their cocks together. Eddie manages to sit back on his knees, slide his hands under the waistband of Buck’s sweats, and tug them down until Buck can shimmy and kick them off himself. It’s a bit of odd wiggling and maneuvering to get Buck naked from the waist down—and how did Eddie not realize Buck went commando today? Mierda—under him.
Buck is desperate, keening and whimpering against Eddie’s palm as the Alpha cups his cheek. Buck is absolutely dripping already, cockhead weeping strings of precum along his heaving abdomen and cunt a mess of frothing slick. As much as Eddie wants to lap up all that slick—three months since Buck’s heat, and he still hasn’t tasted his Omega properly past lapping his fingers clean after he fingered him open during his heat—and relish in Buck’s sweet moans, Buck is desperate for him. He’s pawing at Eddie’s hips, fingers fumbling unsuccessfully with his zipper, trying to get it open. Buck looks about a second away from tears, so Eddie gently cups his fumbling fingers and guides them to grasp his zipper and pull it down, popping the button as Buck unzips his jeans.
“Good boy, so perfect for me,” Eddie rumbles, fishing his cock from the confines of his damp boxers. It springs out, heavy and dripping, cock hard and knot already plumping at the base of his shaft. “You want me, baby?” Eddie works his hand up and down his shaft slowly, gathering the precum he’s weeping on his fingers to slick up his cock. Buck watches with rapt attention, his throat bobbing as he gulps audibly, nodding like a little bobblehead on a dashboard.
“Y-Yeah, wan’ your knot, E-Eds’,” Buck mutters, all sweet and desperate. He can taste Buck’s want on his tongue, all flaky and powdered dough on his taste buds. Buck’s legs are open, clinging to his hips and trying to draw him in, and it’s working. He shuffles close, grabbing Buck and hauling his lower half into his lap, making languid shapes in Buck’s hips and fucking his cock against the waterfall of slick covering Buck’s pussy. The blond makes a beautiful, soft hnnh sound in the back of his throat, flushed with arousal and cock pulsing on his softening tummy.
Even though Buck has been working out during his pregnancy—after approval from his doctor—his abs have been slowly disappearing. The definition is lost in his lower abdomen. Buck is still as strong as the day he met him, but he knows his mate is annoyed that his abs are fading.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” Eddie rumbles, a gentle Alpha croon falling from his tongue as he pushes in, kick-starting Buck’s need for air. His cockhead popping in draws a wet, whimpered gasp from Buck’s mouth, chest heaving as he sucks in lungfuls of air, sinking deep into the mattress. He’s a dream, a vision, and Eddie wishes to commit him to memory. He’s tight around his cock, slick frothing around his slow-thrusting shaft as he displaces it with his movements. Buck is like a leaky faucet, all slippery and tight around him.
“There you go, that’s it,” Eddie huffs, rubbing up and down Buck’s thigh, squeezing the supple muscle. Buck is whimpering softly, his head tossed back, and Adams’ apple bobbing hypnotically under the taut skin of his neck. He’s squeezing and clenching rhythmically around Eddie’s cock as he finally slides balls-deep, hips pressed against the backs of Buck’s thighs. His balls are still trapped in his boxers, the sensation of soft fabric against them making Eddie heave for air.
“A-Alpha,” Buck whimpers, hips tilting up, trying to fuck against Eddie’s cock that’s deep inside of him. “M-Move, move, move,” Buck chants, softly moaning as he takes any friction he can get. Eddie rumbles deep in his chest, fangs too sharp in his mouth as he pulls out and swings his hips forward slowly, hands settled just above Buck’s hipbones, fingers sinking into the pudge there. He’s slow with his thrusts, careful to work up to a proper pace because he didn’t take any time to stretch Buck—even though they’re mated, and Buck’s body remembers his shape, and, god, isn’t being mated glorious?—and he doesn’t want to hurt Buck.
“Mierda,” Eddie whispers, thrusting in and out of that soft, fat pussy. How he hasn’t done this for the past three months is beyond him because Eddie is reminded of how perfectly tight Buck is around him and how intoxicating it is to fuck Buck.
“E-Eddie!” Buck moans, groaning as he fists the bedding, rocking into his thrusts. “D-Don’ s-stoo…p,” Buck slurs, eyes rolling up and mouth dropping open as he cries and keens, moans thick and heavy in the air. The room smells like a bakery exploded in here, all sweet and tantalizing to Eddie’s senses. Buck’s cunt is squeezing around him, so sensitive and eager for Eddie’s knot.
“I won’t stop,” Eddie croons, working his hips in the steady rhythm he’s found, leaning down to press Buck’s body into the bed, chests brushing together as Eddie stares deep into lust-hazy baby blues. “You want my knot, baby? Want me to knock you up again? Fuck another pup into you, hm?” Eddie licks a lazy stripe up Buck’s jaw, tasting tears. Buck whines, heady and gritty. His cunt squeezes around Eddie, cock throbbing from where it’s thwapping against Eddie’s abdomen, no doubt getting rivulets of sticky precum all over it.
He was going to change it anyway.
“Y-Yeah, yeah, p-please, please pup me ‘gain,” Buck slurs, eyes rolling up and mouth dropping into a perfect, mesmerizing ‘o’ as he cums. His cunt turns into a vice around Eddie’s cock, making him grunt as he feels the tell-tale splash of cum hitting his shirt, making it stick to his heaving abdomen. The wet, sticky schlck, schlck, schlck sounds Buck’s pussy makes doubles as he weeps slick. Eddie works Buck through his orgasm, pressing open-mouthed and all-teeth kisses into the line of Buck’s jaw, nipping and sucking cherry red splotches darkening under his watchful eyes everywhere he can get. “O-Oh, g-od,” Buck sobs, one hand flying up to grip the back of his shirt, bunching the fabric in shaking fingers.
“Jus’ Eddie,” he slurs around sharp Alpha fangs. The building of his knot tingles at the base of his spine, waiting for the perfect moment to race up his spine and send him spiraling into a bone-shuddering orgasm. “So perfect, Buck. Fat with my pup and already begging for another… Midera, t-tight-” Eddie gasps when Buck squeezes down on him, knot sucked into that wet, slippery heat. His knot is half-formed, catching on the rim of Buck’s cunt, spearing him wide. Eddie’s head tosses up; his thrusts are break-neck, making Buck squeal and sob, legs locked around Eddie’s hips. He’s close, terribly so—he can feel it as it teases the edges of his fangs, skitters up and down the knobs of his spine, and finally hitches.
His knot pops in once, out twice, and in for the last time before it pops fully and locks inside of Buck, making Eddie groan wordless sounds, staring at his wall before his eyes roll up when the orgasm finally kicks in. His cock throbs inside of Buck, pumping thick, virile ropes of cum inside of his Omega as if he’s trying to breed Buck again. He hasn’t had an orgasm in three months, and this one is making him dizzy with how strong it is. He finally realizes how pent up he is—his sole focus has been Buck, Chris, logistics, and subtly scouring the surrounding area for houses in his free time—as he dumps everything in his balls inside of Buck, relishing in the sweet scent of blissful, sated Omega wafting in the area as he gently lays down to cover Buck’s body with his, crooning something fierce.
Buck’s other hand slowly uncurls from the sheets to swing around and cling to his shirt, chirping gently, beyond words as their faces nuzzle and rub together. Eddie hums softly, the roaring waves of his orgasm and his hips never stopping, a subtle, dirty grind giving stimulation to his knot to lengthen his orgasm.
“Alpha…” Buck mutters, a chirp in his voice as he nuzzles into Eddie’s throat, eyes half-lidded and vibrant. “Feels g’ud,” he slurs, nuzzling into his scent gland and rubbing his cheek against it to scent himself.
Eddie croons, working in tandem to cover Buck in his scent as best he can while locked together by his knot. “Three months in four days,” Eddie whispers, pressing kisses everywhere he can as he leans up, locking his eyes with Buck. “Three months, baby. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do this with you.”
Buck smiles, all wobbly at the edges, snuffling and purring quietly in his diaphragm. “Thank you for loving me,” he whispers, choked up. “Thank you for giving me this baby.” Eddie’s eyes dampen, but he doesn’t let his tears fall as he presses a kiss to Buck’s lips.
“Loving you is as easy as breathing, mi sol. I love you, this baby, and Christopher. I love the life we’re building.” Eddie places a hand on Buck’s abdomen, right where the swell of their pup will be eventually. He brushes a finger against it and smiles as Buck’s hand lays over him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Buck mutters and drags him down for another kiss, letting Eddie roll them till Buck is laying on his chest, and he can tuck them under covers for a small mid-afternoon, post-coital nap. His smile never leaves his face as he watches Buck fall asleep first before he follows his mate into dreamland.
Three months soon and a month after that, and they’ll be out of the most dangerous part of pregnancy.
Four more days… and then another thirty after that.
Then another one hundred fifty or so until they can meet the pup growing inside his Buck.
Eddie can do this.