Buck hates it. Hates that Eddie has lived in a world that never let him be who he felt like he was. That he had to hide this at all. That the very subject is so taboo, he didn’t even know he could do anything about all those desperate wants he’s been harboring. That it took thirty-three years to find out, and it happened completely by accident. “You should think about it first,” Eddie continues. “Really think about it. This isn’t something you should back out of halfway through, you know? You should know what it entails—what you’d have to do, what it would be like.” “I do,” Buck argues back. “I sent you all the research. I’ve been reading up on it too. I know what has to be done, Eddie.” Eddie sighs, but there’s a smile on his face and the whole thing seems much more fond than frustrated. Laced with affection and reluctant patience that only comes from knowing somebody well enough to know when you won’t win.  “Just… do some more,” Eddie tells him. Asks him. Like it’s a favor—something to make him happy. And Buck’s not sure he’d be able to say no to that if he tried. “I know you’ve done a lot of research, and, believe me, I am beyond grateful for it all, but from what you’ve sent me you’ve only looked into what this is like for somebody like me. Maybe you should find out what it’s like for people in your position. How they feel about it. Especially people that aren’t… you know. Where this isn’t part of their typical dynamic anyway. Think about what it means for us. For you. How it might affect our friendship.” From his wistful tone, Buck thinks Eddie might have already done that last part, and he can’t help but wonder what conclusion he came to. Because out of every part of this process, every intricate part of this whole thing, he doesn’t think it would ever even occur to him to worry about that one—about their friendship.  “I don’t see how it could,” Buck tells him, trying his hardest not to sound like he’s pleading, because he’s not. He’s just being honest. “Nothing could.” If he was worried that Eddie might think that was Buck being naive or proof that he hadn’t thought this through at all, he needn’t have worried. If anything, the fondness painted in Eddie’s features only seems to grow more vibrant and obvious.  “You really don’t think that a whole week of us having constant sex doesn’t have at least the potential to make things a little awkward for a while?”  Buck can’t stop the laugh that comes rumbling from deep inside him, loosening every tight knot of tension on its way out.  “You know, it’s actually a wonder nobody’s ever questioned you being an alpha before. It’s just sex, Eddie, it doesn’t have to mean everything, and it’s not like you’re difficult on the eyes or anything.” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, apparently unconvinced.

His aching muscles scream their protest as he drops to a crouch at Christopher’s bedside, the dried blood from his knuckles barely washed down the drain. He knows Carla noticed something this time, even if she hadn’t noticed that. It’s okay though. He’ll stop. He will. He just has to work through all of this bullshit—all of these thoughts he has rattling around in his head.  He’d been coping, is the thing. He’d been doing okay. Shannon was gone, and it hurt—god, it fucking hurt—but he was getting by. He was surviving. He was smiling, and the effort to get out of bed was becoming less and less of a struggle. He and Chris weren’t moving through the house like ghosts who couldn’t figure out how to leave this place and follow her. They were getting back to normal. They talked through the movies they were watching instead of them just playing in the background as he stared into the middle distance and Chris curled into his side, clinging like he thought Eddie might disappear too if he didn’t hold on tight enough. They laughed and joked, and they played.

“Why would you think that?” he asks, almost choking on the rising swell of some noxious mixture of panic that he might have done something to make Eddie think he didn’t support him with this and incredulous anger that Eddie would ever believe that.  “Well,” Eddie starts, face contorting in confusion like he’s lost Buck somewhere on the path of this conversation and he can’t quite figure out where, “you just volunteered a whole list of alphas that you want me to ask for help and I noticed that you didn’t include yourself anywhere on that list.” “Because I didn’t think you would want that.” He doesn’t yell it, but it’s a close thing, the words all tarred with indignant frustration.  A heavy silence settles between the two of them, both twisting away from facing each other as they take healthy pulls from their beers, the sounds of their throats working to swallow down gulp after gulp the only noise filling his too quiet apartment. They’re so in sync with their awkwardness that even the clatter of their bottles against the counter as they finally give up the pretense is simultaneous, but Buck still can’t quite bring himself to meet Eddie’s eyes. Not for a few seconds. Has to school the bashful heat he can feel rising in him, convinced that one look into his best friend's eyes will have him actually bursting into flames. As it is, Eddie doesn’t really give him much of a choice.  “You shouldn’t agree right now.” It should be amplified through a megaphone for the impact it has, voice cracking through the delicately spun fibres of silence sending them crashing to the ground like shards of glass, almost making Buck jump as his head snaps up in instinct.  Eddie looks pained. Maybe that’s not the right word. Pensive maybe. And cautious. Like he’s trying hard not to get his hopes up, or maybe expecting any hope he has to be dashed eventually. Buck hates it. Hates that Eddie has lived in a world that never let him be who he felt like he was.

But it probably doesn’t matter whether he should, because he does. At least instantly. He manages to temper it pretty quickly, just in time for Eddie to continue. “I just meant that you’re the only alpha I would ever be able to trust with this, which is why I’m not going to do it.” Buck struggles to follow Eddie’s math there, and he can feel his face screw up tight as he attempts it.  “I could do it,” Buck tells him, confidently.  “That’s not the point,” Eddie argues. It’s not exactly making Buck believe that Eddie would trust him with this, like he’d said, when he keeps fighting against it. “The point is that I’m not asking.” “You don’t want me to?” He hates how small he sounds—how pathetic—but it’s not secret Buck has issues with any kind of perceived rejection. Not because he thinks it’s outrageous that anybody would reject him, or anything. He’s not some typical alpha knothead in that way, he doesn’t think he can get everything—everyone—he wants because he’s somehow entitled to it just for being born this way. It’s just something he’s experienced so much, and people keep telling him there will come a time when it doesn’t happen, that there are people who will stay, but every time he’s thought he’s found that they’ve turned around and rejected him anyway.  “Whether I want to is irrelevant, Buck, you don’t want to.” Wait, what?

“Just to be totally clear, I’m not actually asking you,” Eddie tells him.  Buck shouldn’t feel disappointed about that. Should he?

To: Maddie <maddiehatter82@hotmail.com> From: Evan <slackerboy69@hotmail.com> Subject: Okay… confession time I guess Shit I hadn’t said that yet had I? But yeah. We kissed. I no you said you think I’ve always liked him and maybe you’re right but I swear I had no idea until that night. We were just dancing and laughing at this party and then Eddie said he needed some air so we went outside and we were in this quiet spot in the garden. There was like karaoke and spin the bottle going on inside so nobody was out there and we were both swaying, knocking into one another as we walked and we were laughing. I don’t even no what was funny, but it must have been something because I swear we were giggling Maddie. Like little kids. And then it just stopped. It all stopped and went quiet and we were looking at each other and I don’t even no who moved first but then we were kissing and it was… Well I guess it doesn’t matter what it was. He doesn’t remember. And now I no how I feel and I have to watch him be totally in love with Shannon and it’s not fair that I hate her because she is actually nice but I do Maddie. God I hate her because he was my friend first and if he likes me but thinks I don’t like him because he doesn’t remember what happened I should tell him right? Shouldn’t I? Should I? I don’t know what to do Maddie. Tell me what to do.

“You wanted it to be you?” he guesses.  Eddie nods, cheeks flushing.  It must be some kind of alpha instinct—the speed in which he imagines it—Eddie with his stomach swollen, cradling the bump with his hands.

“And?” Eddie asks, finally lifting his head. His cheeks are a little flushed, no doubt from embarrassment—Buck can imagine how it might feel to reveal something like this, something that a few days ago they’d never come close to talking about, and that first conversation had still held some hint that this is a shameful thing to happen. “Have you? Recalibrated?” “I think so,” Buck tells him, letting a small, encouraging smile spread across his face, hoping it goes even some small way in offering Eddie some comfort right now. “Can I ask a question? Or a couple maybe?” “You can ask,” Eddie tells him, letting his eyes drop down again. “I might not be able to answer, though. It’s hard to talk about. Guess I’m not really used to it. Nobody else knows.” “I won’t tell anybody, Eddie,” Buck assures him, earnestly.  “I know,” Eddie asks, a soft chuckle escaping with his words, like maybe the mere thought of Buck revealing this is laughable. Like Eddie knows he wouldn’t. And, huh, that’s… that’s a nice feeling.  “So, um, how long have you, you know, felt like this?” Eddie shrugs, reaches for his glass but stops when he realizes it’s empty. Looks at the jug too, and there are just the dregs left. Buck feels guilty, even if logically he knows he couldn’t be prepared for this.  “Do you want beer for this conversation?” “Please,” Eddie answers. It’s part word, part sigh, and part pleased laughter. “But only one. I still have to pick Chris up in a bit.” He looks around, like he’s only just registering where they are. “And maybe we could head inside.” Buck nods as he stands.  “Yeah. Yeah of course.” He steps through the door, and he can’t help but notice the tension in the air. It’s not scared, he doesn’t think. Not like when Eddie had first spoken and Buck was struggling to respond. Apprehensive maybe? But that’s okay. He can ease that. He hopes.

Buck knows he should speak. He should say something. Something reassuring maybe, or just something to let Eddie know that it’s okay—that Buck doesn’t judge him or anything. That they’re okay. Because Eddie looks scared. Terrified really. And Buck hates that—hates that there is any part of Eddie that had worried about telling Buck this secret, something he’s no doubt been hiding for a long time. But Buck is in shock, his brain stalling the second he’d heard Eddie’s confession, the buffering only added to with every word Eddie had said after. That he could imagine being different. That he wanted to be bitched. It’s just taking a second for it all to line up in his head and everything else to come back online. It’s taking him a second to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have missed it. If it was somehow obvious, Buck should have noticed. He read those stories, and the posts on the forums, so he knows how scary this must have been—to tell him, or just to feel it at all. Has he been a bad friend by not realizing just how much his friend has been suffering. After all they’ve been through, shouldn’t he have seen it? “Can you say something?” Eddie asks, voice trembling with whispered desperation. “Anything.” “Sorry,” Buck sputters, immediately. God, he can’t believe how badly he’s fucking this up. “I was just… processing.” Eddie snorts. It’s an amused one, sure, but there’s something else, something darker. Something a little self-deprecating perhaps. Like maybe he thinks Buck’s lying and just trying to be kind, that he’s putting it politely. He’s not.  “I’m not– I don’t– You know this doesn’t change anything, right? About me and you, or our friendship. I still feel the same about you now as I did five minutes ago.” “Buck.” The way he says it is pleading. He wants this conversation to be over because he doesn’t believe Buck, and that just won’t do. “You don’t have to-” “I mean it,” Buck tells him, maybe a little too forcefully. Eddie winces at the mere volume of his interruption and Buck shrinks back a little, grimacing apologetically. “Seriously, Eddie. It’s just not what I expected you to say. I’ve spent all this time worried you might have been pulling away because of me, I just needed to… I don’t know. Recalibrate, maybe?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Tommy mutters.  He picks up his cutlery again, keeping his eyes fixed on his plate, and slices through the eggplant parm Buck made for them both. He’s been working on the recipe, trying to perfect it. He’s close, he thinks, but maybe too distracted to get all the way there.  “Besides,” he adds, just when Buck thinks he might be done with the conversation, “it’s not like we’re friends the same way you two are.” “What’s that supposed to mean?”