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"Oh, Eddie," Beatrice smiles, but it’s more of a leer, with a hand wrapped far too firmly around his bicep. "It's so nice of you to make it to the meeting. We haven't seen you in ages!"
Eddie suppresses a shiver, one that he's sure Beatrice thinks is a good thing. It’s not, it never is.
"Yes, Beatrice," he placates, his eyes frantically flicking from one side of the crowded classroom to the other. Searching. "It's been some time."
Her too-sharp nails dig into the meat of his arm, keeping him close when he's desperate to pull away. But as he leans back, he hits something. It's big and soft and so solid and there's an apology on Eddie's lips but—
"Yeah," Buck says, more sweetly than Eddie’s ever heard before, wrapping his arms around Eddie's shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle his hair. "That's my fault. I wanted to be here, but our work schedules never quite lined up."
Beatrice’s hand slides down Eddie's bicep and off of his arm, too slowly, but nevertheless. Eddie’s muscles have tensed, but that's not what's on her mind right now.
"Right," she mumbles – annoyed, confused – looking up at Buck. "Of course. I'm so sorry, have we met?"
Buck unpeels from Eddie’s back slightly, leaving Eddie cold for more reasons than he'd like to consider, and reaches his hand out in greeting.
"Evan Buckley, ma'am."
Beatrice takes his hand and it looks like a sweaty, limp fish in Buck's solid grasp.
"Right," Beatrice says, her voice slithering uncomfortably. "And you're here because…"
"Because I'm Eddie's partner, Christopher's dad, and incredibly curious about what the PTA has planned for the spring," Buck replies, the pep in his voice obvious to everyone within earshot.
Beatrice's lip curls at the word partner and her eyes bulge slightly at Buck's use of the word dad, but as the PTA president (and clearly despite herself), she seems mildly excited that she's got a parent who wants to get involved.
Eddie couldn't care less at this point. Anything, absolutely anything, to get some sort of boundary up between him and Beatrice.
And Buck, of course, couldn't wait to step into that particular line of fire.
Oh, come on, Eddie, Buck had said at the firehouse the day before. I'll go, pretend to be your partner, and get Beatrice off your back. Easy peasy.
Except now, with Buck's thumb brushing softly up and down Eddie's shoulder, it's getting harder to remember why Eddie doesn't just turn around and kiss him.
It's been simmering for a long time, but maybe it's better this way. Maybe Buck's just being kind. Supportive. Having Eddie's back, like he promised so long ago.
(God, but he's so good.)
"Looking forward to seeing what's on your agenda for the meeting, Beatrice!" Buck calls after her, as Eddie watched her turn on her heels and leave them behind.
"Ugh, thanks, Buck," Eddie groans, head flopping back and landing on Buck's shoulder.
Buck simply squeezes his hand, his thumb continuing its journey, swiping up and down, over Eddie's soft sweater. A sweater Eddie absolutely did not pick out because one time Buck told him it looked good on him.
"Not a problem at all, Eds," Buck whispers close to his ear. "Now, come on, let's see what kinds of snacks they might have. I feel like I see a plate of lemon bars."
Eddie closes his eyes for a moment—just a moment—and wonders what it might be like to have this all the time.
(It's good. It feels good. It always feels good. It feels right. Eddie can't stand it.)
"Yeah," Eddie replies, tipping his head over just a bit. "Let's go."
He feels Buck press a kiss to his head as Eddie leans up, moving toward the very specific siren song that only fresh lemon bars can offer.
Eddie doesn't suppress the shiver this time.