Chapter Text
It starts as a pretty typical shift, which, honestly, should’ve been his first warning.
They’re responding to a fire at an upscale health and fertility clinic. The sprinkler system’s already taken care of any flames but that hadn’t stopped the people inside from trampling over each other in their hurry to evacuate; he doesn’t envy Chim, Hen, or Eddie at all, watching the three of them struggle to wrangle a crowd of hysterical pregnant people and their partners into some semblance of order.
Which leaves Buck to do a final sweep of the building for any stragglers.
He’s checking the storage area tucked in the back when he opens a door and is hit with a face full of some kind of… mist?
It's sticky and cloying—almost like a perfume, maybe, but with a bitter edge—and his eyes start tearing up immediately, sinuses stinging. He wipes his face with the sleeve of his uniform, and that seems to help some, but he’s definitely gonna need a shower and a change of clothes when they get back to the station.
“Buckley to Cap,” he calls over the radio. “We’re all clear inside.”
“Copy that,” Bobby responds. “Meet back outside, we’ll regroup.”
He’s outside chatting with Munroe from Squad 4 when things suddenly shift.
Buck staggers on the spot, hot and hazy with it, something sharp tingling behind his teeth. His vision is swirling, his mouth painfully dry.
He blinks once, then twice, then swallows hard.
“—okay? Your whole face has gone red, man.”
“I’m—“ Buck tries. When the f*ck did it so hot? “It’s—“
“Do you need to sit down?” Munroe asks, reaching out to steady him. “I can help you over to the curb—“
Buck bats the hand away, bristling at the contact. “No, no, I’m good—“
A growl cuts through the air behind him, fierce and furious. Munroe startles, his eyes wide, but it’s like Buck’s entire spine softens, tension seeping away as if it was never there.
He’s certain before he even turns. “Eddie.”
“What’s wrong?” Eddie demands, and his hands land on Buck’s shoulders, then shift up to cradle his jaw, his eyes darting over every inch of his face. “Why do you— What happened?”
“I’m fine,” Buck says, relaxing into his hold. There’s something about Eddie’s touch that soothes a part of him that he didn’t know needed soothing. “I got dizzy for, like, two seconds but—“
He stops to take a breath, and that’s when Eddie’s scent washes over him—and by washes over him, he really means that it nearly takes him out at the f*cking knees.
It’s warm and rich, decadent even, like the darkest of dark chocolate with just a hint of something spicy underneath. It’s mouthwatering, it’s addicting, and Buck leans closer, desperate for more.
“You smell really good,” Buck informs him—just in case Eddie didn’t know, because he’s helpful like that. He rubs his cheek against Eddie’s neck, then nuzzles against his jaw, the rough edge of his stubble prickling deliciously against his skin. “Like, really f*cking good.”
Eddie makes a noise that’s halfway between a laugh and a groan and his arms curl around Buck’s waist, strong and secure.
“I smell good?” he asks, incredulous. “I smell— Buck, I can smell you from clear across the lot.”
“No, you can’t,” Buck disagrees, looping his own arms over Eddie’s shoulders to hold himself up. His body feels like taffy: soft and pliable, sticky and sweet. “‘M on suppressants. My scent’s all…”
He drags the tip of his nose along Eddie’s hairline, then presses his mouth to his temple, breathing him in.
“Subtle. Muted. Though, there was a study a few years back that found that prolonged suppressant use can sometimes lead to this weird phenomenon where the user starts to spontaneously smell like coconut, but to be honest, their sample size and diversity left a lot to be desired—“
“No, Buck,” Eddie interrupts in a sandpaper-rough voice. “I can definitely smell you”
“Oh.” Buck considers this for a moment. There’s a thought—an explanation—tickling right at the edge of his consciousness, but it slips through his fingers like dust on the wind. “Do I smell good?”
Eddie makes another one of those noises—low and throaty and a little pained.
“Chim!” he calls over his shoulder, his arms tightening ever so slightly around Buck’s waist. “Chim, I need you over here!”
“Eddie,” Buck wheedles, curling closer. “You didn’t answer me.” A horrible thought occurs to him, and his voice wobbles just a bit when he asks, “I don’t smell bad, do I?”
“Trágame, tierra,” Eddie mutters under his breath. Louder, he says, “No, querido, you don’t smell bad. You smell like…”
Eddie pauses a second too long. Buck pulls back to look at him, a little afraid of what he’ll find.
But Eddie’s eyes are dark and hooded, those beautiful brown eyes smoldering like embers. His nostrils flare as he takes in another deep inhale, and his gaze turns heated, turns hungry.
Buck’s breath hitches in his throat.
“What’s going on?” Chim interrupts before Buck gets his answer, Hen just a few steps behind. “Who’s… Oh, sh*t.”
“Hey, Buckaroo,” Hen says, her ‘calming a patient’ voice. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” Buck insists, a little annoyed. “It’s nothing—“
“He’s going into heat,” Eddie interjects, his voice tight.
“What?” Buck rears back, confused. “No, I’m not.”
Hen and Chimney exchange a loaded glance.
“Yes, Buck,” Eddie says, and there’s a fresh tension around his eyes, in the clench of his jaw, that Buck doesn’t know what to make of. “You are.”
Buck scoffs. “I think I’d know if I were going into heat.”
“Yeah,” Eddie rumbles, still watching him with those dark, intense eyes. The corner of his mouth pulls up into something that could be a smile, except it’s just a little too sharp around the edges. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
“But—“ Buck wets his lips, brow furrowed. It’s a struggle to focus on anything besides the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears. “But, I’m on suppressants.”
Eddie arches an eyebrow. Then he slides his hand up Buck’s spine, cups it around the nape of his neck, and squeezes gently.
Heat sears through him like a solar flare, overwhelming and inescapable. A wrecked little whimper forces its way past his teeth and he sags like a puppet whose strings have been cut, his legs refusing to support his weight.
Eddie’s the only thing keeping him upright, pulling him in until he’s flush against him, cradling him tight and keeping him anchored inside his body. Buck clings to him desperately—presses in as close as he can and then presses closer—flames licking at every inch of his skin.
He wants to curl up against Eddie’s chest and settle there for the next infinity, wants to tuck his head under his chin and press his mouth to his throat and drown in the spiced-chocolate-warmth of him. Maybe Eddie would let him, maybe he’d understand if Buck can explain how badly he needs it, how much he wants it—
He wants—
“Oh,” Buck hears himself say. His voice feels distant, distorted—like it’s coming from the other end of a long tunnel. “I’m going into heat.”
“Whoa, hey, hey,” Eddie says firmly, shifting his grip around until they can meet each other’s eyes. “Stay with me, Buck. Slow, deep breaths.”
“I’m trying,” Buck gasps, his fingers tight in the fabric of Eddie’s uniform. “It’s so hot.”
“I know, cariño, I’ve got you,” Eddie assures him. “You’re doing great. Let’s find somewhere to sit down, okay?”
“O-okay.”
With Eddie’s help, Buck manages to stagger over to the firetruck and collapse against the gripped steps. Chimney gives him maybe half a second to recover, then he’s pressing two fingers to his neck and shining a flashlight in his eyes, his expression pinched with concern.
“Onset is too rapid to be anything natural,” he says, peering down at him. “He was fine at the top of shift—even a stress heat would take a few days to ramp up.”
“It’s a fertility clinic,” Hen points out grimly. “What are the odds they had inducers on-site?”
“Oh, is that what that was?” Buck mutters to himself, dazed.
There’s a moment of silence, then they both start talking at once.
“—aerosolized during the fire—“
“—inhaled them while clearing the building—“
“—no telling how much he was dosed with—“
“We need to get him somewhere safe,” Bobby says, arriving out of nowhere to take charge of the scene. “Get him home—“
But Hen shakes her head. “The inducers are burning through him too quickly,” she says. “He can’t just hunker down at home by himself, his heart could give out. We should take him to the hospital, they can sedate him and flush his system.”
“That sh*t’s gonna knock him on his ass,” Chim disagrees. “His hormones will be out of whack for months afterwards. It’d be better in the long run if he could work through things with a partner. An alpha, ideally,” Chim clarifies.
Alpha, Buck’s hindbrain whispers, and he’s reaching for Eddie again before he realizes what he’s doing. He pulls him in until he’s standing right between Buck’s knees, curling his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops and pressing his face to his stomach, keening softly.
Eddie lets out a low, rumbling noise, that cocoa-rich scent spiking sharply. Buck nuzzles closer with a sigh, his head swimming with need.
Around them, the others are still talking, crowded in a makeshift half-circle around them.
“—know, but I can call Maddie?” Chim’s offering. “She might have a better idea.”
Buck groans. “Oh my god, please do not call Maddie.”
“We won’t call her unless we have to,” Bobby assures him. “But we need to make a decision before this gets out of hand. Now, I know you don’t want to go to the ER, but unless you’ve got an alpha you trust to see you through this, we don’t have much of a choice—“
“Then it's a good thing he does,” Eddie calmly interrupts.
And everything stops.
“…What?” Buck croaks.
“I said, it’s a good thing you have an alpha to see you through this,” Eddie reiterates, not that it makes any more sense the second time.
Buck’s lungs seize in his chest, his stomach swooping uncertainly.
“…I do?”
“Yeah, Buck. You do,” Eddie says, his voice soft and impossibly fond. His fingers sweep across Buck’s forehead, then begin to card gently through his hair. “You’ve always got me. But, only if you’re okay with letting me help you.”
The words fall out of his mouth before he can even think about stopping them.
“Of course I am,” he blurts, because of course he f*cking is. “But…”
“But…?” Eddie prompts patiently.
Buck flounders for a way to point out the obvious.
“I just— I mean— You don’t have to,” he eventually manages to piece together. “Just because you’re my best friend and an alpha—“ My alpha, his instincts purr. “—doesn’t mean you’re, like, obligated to volunteer or—“
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Eddie says, holding a finger to Buck’s lips to quiet him.
Buck’s mouth shuts with a soft click.
“I’m not feeling obligated, Buck,” he continues, emphasizing the word like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “I’m offering because I want to.”
“Yeah, but not because you’re actually interested,” Buck insists, though he’s growing more unsure by the second. “Or, well, no, I guess I probably smell good or whatever, so I know you’re like, biologically interested, but you don’t really want to. You’re just being nice… right?”
Eddie goes very still. Then he reaches out and—calmly, deliberately—takes Buck’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipping his head up until their gazes catch and lock, pulled together like some kind of inevitability.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Eddie says, in a quiet, husky voice that’s meant for Buck’s ears alone. “Nothing about you and I has ever been an obligation, Buck. And there’s nothing just nice about the things I want to do to you. Not now, and probably not ever, if we’re being honest. So, if I’m offering to help you through your heat, it’s because I want to. Because I want you. Do you understand me?”
Buck can only nod, utterly speechless.
Eddie studies his expression for a long moment, then continues: “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I’m gonna ask you again. Will you let me take care of you?”
“Please,” Buck breathes. “Eds, please.”
Eddie’s thumb grazes gently over his cheek, then slips lower to rest against the swell of his lower lip. “Will you let me take you home?”
He wants to ask one more time, wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, wants to whisper, Are you sure? Please tell me you’re sure, that you’re absolutely certain you won’t regret this.
That you won’t regret me.
But Buck’s only human. And he wants. so. badly.
“Yes,” he says.
Eddie soothes a hand down his spine, then tugs him close, brushing a kiss against the center of his forehead. Buck shivers and surrenders.
“Hey, guys?” Eddie says louder, and there’s a strength in his voice that feels like a promise. “I think we’re gonna need a ride.”
