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Chapter Text

Hershey, Pennsylvania - 1902

—

Evan Buckley heaves a deep sigh, turning his face into the late afternoon sun streaming in through the sunroom windows.

He has grown weary of his station in life. As a carrier, a male with the ability to conceive and bear children, he was unable to live the way he wished. Just like the daughters of other upper-class gentlemen, carriers born in high society were not allowed to be employed or own property. They were meant to be educated, cultured and refined. They were taught to strive for beauty and wit, all to attract an ideal husband their father could be proud of.

He was primped and plucked, kept pure, and  treated as a prize. Knowing all the while his life was not his own. He was under the thumb of his parents until he married. Then he was only to follow his husband's orders.

Evan grew up with the understanding he would never marry for love. He hated that most of all.

He received fine tutors, learning to read, write, and do arithmetic. He’d been afforded training in cooking, baking, and running a house. He had endured strict instruction in proper etiquette, spending years learning how to speak, eat, and behave in the most polite manner.

While it should have been for his benefit, none of these endeavors were for him or his betterment. They were all for the sake of his father’s profit. Each tutor, lesson, and training raised the amount his father could ask for his bride price.

He would turn twenty five soon and was now a few years over the prime age for marital arrangement. He had known since he turned twenty one, that his father had been searching for his match. It was a difficult search, in that most eligible men in high society weren’t very interested in wedding carriers. 

Worse still, Evan was larger than most, towering over people in society. No matter his diet, his muscles remained bulky under clothing. He also bore a garish birthmark on his face. The members of society’s upper echelon would be embarrassed if he bore their children or grandchildren with the same markings.

To add to those difficulties, Phillip Buckley’s ego and pride had gotten in the way of whatever decent offers they might have had. As years went by and no one offered a sizable enough price for his only son, Phillip had come across great misfortune in his business.

Now Phillip Buckley, a man once among the wealthiest people in Pennsylvania, was very close to ruin and all marital offers even half of what his father wanted for him had vanished.

Evan was startled from his musings by the loud opening of the door. He snapped open his eyes, not wanting to be caught daydreaming, to find his father in the doorway.

“I’ve finally found you a husband willing to pay enough,” he says.

Evan winces, trying to turn it into a smile.

“I will hear no complaints,” his father continues, “We’ve already discussed that your mother and I are not in a position to support you any longer. You must marry and soon.”

His father takes a breath, seeming to have hurried home with the news. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, swiping it over his brow.

Evan nodded, offering no argument. He hadn’t been given all the details, but it had become more and more clear over time that his father’s financial situation was becoming dire.

Thankfully his sister, Maddie, had been married to a wealthy man in Illinois before the truth of the family’s situation had come out. Her wedding ceremony had been rich, a truly expensive affair as appropriate of someone from the upper echelon of society. 

Evan wouldn’t be spared the same expense, but he didn’t mind. He had always required less than the others in his family. 

“Who am I being sold to?” he asks, hoping for some transparency.

“He’s a Texan, a horse rancher and farmer, Mr. Edmundo Diaz,” his father answers, crossing the room to look out a window, “He is a widower. He lost his wife seven years ago. He is well-off and was willing to part with a pretty penny to secure someone to run his household.”

He perks up. A rancher and farmer? That sounds incredible to him. He has always hated the claustrophobic feeling of the city around him, the buildings and people hemming him in. When his family went on vacations to less populated areas, Evan had always felt so at peace being out in the open, surrounded by nature.

“Again, I won’t hear any complaints,” Phillip tells him sternly, “not about his profession and not about his finances.”

“His finances?” Evan questions, “But he was able to give you the best bridal price?”

“Yes, he was and while you’ll be comfortable,” his father says, “He won’t be able to provide anything as lavish as your mother and I have for you here.”

Evan hummed and looked around. Of course he has enjoyed the amenities his parents provided for him. Their house was lavish in itself and one of only several in town that enjoyed electricity and indoor plumbing. He was given beautiful clothing and gourmet meals. They had their own small library for him to enjoy, though he still loved visiting the public one. They had servants and house staff.

He would never say it out loud, lest he seem ungrateful, but he truly didn’t need all of those things. He was self-sufficient and didn’t need staff to wait upon him. He enjoyed the clothing and meals but had always found himself to be just as happy eating a simple diet and wearing cotton over silk. He remembered living in their home as a child before electricity. While it was harder to read by firelight, he felt he could do it all the same.

“Alright,” Evan said, “When can I expect to meet this Mr. Diaz?”

His father gives him a long look, seeming to question his easy acceptance. 

“Tomorrow after lunch,” Phillip replies, sniffing his nose. Then he departs the sunroom, leaving Evan to ponder everything he’d just learned, a thrill of excitement running up his spine.

—

Edmundo Diaz is perhaps the most handsome man Evan has ever seen.

He isn’t as tall as Evan, but stockier, thicker in the shoulders in a way Evan can’t seem to pull his eyes from. His hair has a fashionable cut, a few strands escaping its styling, falling loosely over his forehead. He’s young, maybe a touch younger than Evan and he finds himself glad for it. He’d been a bit concerned about Mr. Diaz’s age when he learned he was a widower.

Evan is shocked that this man would agree to marry him.

“Mr. Diaz,” Phillip says, welcoming him into the sitting room and rising to shake his hand, “This is my son, Evan.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Diaz,” Evan says standing. He hopes Mr. Diaz isn’t put off by his height. 

He’s confused when Mr. Diaz extends his palm for a handshake. That isn’t the greeting polite society requires when meeting a woman or carrier. He stares at it wondering if he should take it, if this is what they do in Texas.

“Evan,” his father hisses and clears his throat at him, jerking his head to Mr. Diaz’s hand. 

He stumbles forward to grab the proffered hand, noting the rough texture that greets his own palm. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Mr. Diaz says, an amused smile crossing his lips.

Evan sees his father shaking his head across the room and he worries he’s already messed this up.

They’re interrupted by one of their last remaining servants entering the room with a tray of cups and saucers, sweets, and a coffee carafe. She sets the tray on the tea table and retreats.

His father seems to forget his exasperation, asking, “Shall we?”

“Yes. Coffee, Mr. Diaz?” Evan asks, gesturing to the table.

“It’s mighty warm out,” Mr. Diaz informs him, “But if we must.”

He grins at Evan then and he can see Mr. Diaz’s white canines pointing a little further down than the rest of his teeth. Evan thinks it gives his smile a nice character, an almost rakish appeal. Evan finds he quite likes it.

They sit around the table. Evan can see his family’s second-best china was used; the best having been sent with Maddie. There won’t be any family china for Evan to take, and his parents certainly won’t be purchasing any for him.

Strangely, he finds he feels a little disappointed. The china sets were such pretty delicate things. He hopes Mr. Diaz has a set at the ranch.

Evan reaches out for the carafe, pouring first for Mr. Diaz, then his father, and finally himself. He can feel Mr. Diaz’s eyes following him the entire time. It makes him want to preen and invite more of the man’s gaze.

Evan sets the carafe back onto the tray and sits, back straight and posture perfect. He looks up and meets the dark eyes of Mr. Diaz, before his father clears his throat.

“I suppose we ought to discuss the specifics of this arrangement?” Phillip inquires, nibbling a tea cake.

Mr. Diaz straightens up, placing his cup back onto its saucer.

“I assume your father has told you some about me?” he asks Evan.

“Yes,” he says nodding.

Mr. Diaz continues, “So you know about my horse ranch and farm. We breed and sell horses, offering training on the side. I also keep a few acres for farming corn and wheat. I’m sure he’s told you about my being a widower too, yes?”

Evan nods again, looking into Mr. Diaz’s eyes. He stares back; eyes intense.

“How about my son?” he asks, “Has he told you about him?”

“You have a child?” Evan gasps and says sincerely, “I love children.”

“Do you now?” he questions, an eyebrow raised, “Have you been around many children?”

“I have. I volunteer regularly at the public library,” he tells Mr. Diaz earnestly, “I work with children there helping them learn to read or with their arithmetic.”

Mr. Diaz hums, then asks, “What about disabled children? Have you ever been around them?”

Evan’s breath stutters, “No, not really, but I would treat them all the same.”

“That’s good of you to say,” Mr. Diaz says, seeming to let some of the tenseness filling him fall away, “My son, Christopher, has some mobility difficulties. He was born with cerebral palsy, but he’s smart as a whip.”

“That’s good, Mr. Diaz,” Evan says, “Anyone with intelligence can get far in life. Difficulties or not.”

He seems to like that answer, giving Evan another grin.

“Moving on, I’ve got to tell you, the ranch is a ways out, a couple hours from the nearest town and many hours from the big cities. But it’s nice out there and I’ve got a good house,” Mr. Diaz stops and gestures around the room, “Not as fancy as all this, but nothing to be ashamed of.”

That sounds just fine to Evan. It doesn’t sound like Mr. Diaz has anything he should feel shame for.

“Your father and I already discussed most everything, but I figured I should explain everything to you and make sure you really understand. I also wanted to ask if there’s anything you might want?”

What else could I possibly want, Evan thinks, this man is offering me a life away from being a burden to my family, away from this city that’s never wanted me, some nature and a taste of a tiny bit of freedom. That’s more than enough.

“I can’t give you all you have here, but I can promise you’ll be taken care of,” Mr. Diaz says. He reaches his hand out towards Evan, palm up like an offering.

This time he’s quick to react, grabbing onto Mr. Diaz’s hand, holding it tight.

“I’m not worried about what you can’t give me, Mr. Diaz,” Evan tells him, “I’ll be grateful for what you can.”

Mr. Diaz gives him a slow smile; wider than any others he’s given Evan so far and squeezes his fingers. His grip is warm and callused. It makes Evan’s fingers tingle with sensation.

Evan knows in his heart this is the best offer he’ll ever receive. Mr. Diaz has been gentle and kind, caring enough to inform the carrier of more than his own father ever thought he should have known. 

“Have you set a wedding date?” he asks his father, looking away from Mr. Diaz’s eyes.

His father frowns, seemingly perturbed by the display in front of him.

“Yes,” he answers, mostly addressing Mr. Diaz, “It will take place in four days where our family attends church. St Christopher’s Episcopal Church.”

“Now that sounds like fate,” Mr. Diaz says, smiling once again at Evan, “Us getting married at a church with the same name as my son and all.”

Evan smiles back, “It does, doesn’t it.”

Mr. Diaz turns, looking at Phillip and asks, “Might we have just a moment alone?”

His father nods and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I hate to have to ask you this, but I’d feel pretty negligent if I didn’t,” Mr. Diaz mumbles, “Are you being forced into this marriage?”

The question startles Evan into a laugh a bit too loud. It’s such a rude thing for him to do, he knows if his mother were here, she would cuff him on the ear for it.

Mr. Diaz waits the giggles out, an amused expression on his face. Evan is glad to see that instead of annoyance at his antics, as he’s used to.

“My father explained our financial situation to you, correct?”

Mr. Diaz nods.

“Then if you’re still asking that question you should know, my parents hold no high regard for me. I’m not implying my father arranged this marriage with you to punish me in any way, no. He has simply always made it abundantly clear that I am and have always been a tool to further their fortune.”

Mr. Diaz’s brows furrow and he looks upset.

“In high society, carriers are looked down upon as unnatural. It’s the norm here. I’ve always known it, and this is the way it’s always been. I’ve always known my only job was to wed well and receive a bride price for my parents,” he explains.

Mr. Diaz kisses hit teeth but doesn’t interrupt.

“I’m not being forced to marry you, Mr. Diaz. I just have little say in the matter but let me assure you that I know you are the best choice I could have been presented with. My family no longer has the funds to feed and house me. No one else would have me. I am grateful that you will.”

Mr. Diaz whistles lowly, “I find it hard to believe no one would have you. You are quite beautiful. A great deal more handsome even than your father described.”

“My father is not one to sing my praises even when striving to find someone to have me,” Evan tells him honestly, “It was kind of you to say, but beauty isn’t something I possess. I know you can see the birthmark marring my face and my large frame. Most people, even in polite society, are not so kind as to ignore it when considering marriage. If my father still had access to his connections and fortune, maybe I could have been more palatable to the people of high society, but he does not.”

Evan sighs, “I know what is expected of me, Mr. Diaz, and you seem to be a kind and gentle man. I will marry you gladly.”

Mr. Diaz’s face had been drawn but lightened when he heard that statement. He seemed almost ready to argue with Evan’s assessment of himself. He doesn’t.

“Will you tell me now if there is anything you’d like?” Mr. Diaz asks earnestly, “Anything at all.”

Evan is tempted, so tempted, to ask for a bit of freedom, but the notion is ridiculous. Carriers cannot be free.

“Could I ask you to call me Buck?”

“Buck?” Mr. Diaz asks, tilting his head, “Is that a nickname?”

“Yes, the children at the library first shortened Mr. Buckley to Mr. Buck, and then further to just Buck,” Evan explains, “It was always precious to me to be referred to that way and I’d hate to have to do without it.”

“Then of course I’ll call you that,” he nods, “If you will also call me Eddie.”

Evan feels a genuine smile break out on his face, “It’s a deal then.”

Buck is immensely pleased to find Eddie willing to agree to this name. His parents had called each other Mr. Buckley and Mrs. Buckley. He had always felt it too impersonal and not loving.

“Oh,” he says when an afterthought strikes him, “Could I also bring my books?”

“Yes absolutely, Buck, I want you to be comfortable. Bring whatever you like. We have more than enough room up on the ranch,” Mr. Diaz tells him.

When Buck looks at Eddie again, he knows his face must be covered with a pleased earnestness. He feels an achingly deep hope springing to life within himself.

He may not have any choice in having to marry.

But it’s becoming quite clear to him that Edmundo Diaz might be the best thing to happen to him.

—

Their marriage takes place on a Friday.

Buck wears his finest suit and best dress shoes. He styles his wayward curls into submission. There’s nothing to be done with the mark on his face. He’ll have to be satisfied with his appearance.

Eddie’s own suit is much less fine, but no less handsome. He cuts a fine figure in it, Buck thinks, his broad shoulders and trim waist perfectly tailored to. He’s wearing cowboy boots that look to have been shined just that day. His hair has been neatly styled, and Buck finds himself missing the loose strands from when they first met. 

He had knocked on Buck’s door saying, “I know we aren’t supposed to see one another before the wedding, but I thought you’d like to have this.”

He produced a brooch from his pocket, explaining it had been his grandmother’s. The original stone had fallen out and Eddie had it replaced with turquoise. He told Buck he could use it for the ceremony.

“It’s everything a bride needs for good luck. Something old, new, borrowed, and blue,” he explains, “I know it’s not much.”

Buck, endlessly charmed, says, “No, it’s perfect.”

He asks Eddie to pin it to his lapel, face flushing and sure his birthmark is a deeper shade of red. 

Eddie is staring openly at him when Buck looks up. He idly wonders if Eddie doesn’t find it disagreeable to see and if he should turn away.

No, let him look his fill , Buck thinks, he’ll be seeing this face for the rest of our days together.

—

The only wedding guests are their own families.

Helena Diaz is certainly a fearsome woman to behold. Her stern face and narrow eyes broadcast her distaste for him. She seems to pick Buck apart, piece by piece, from across the room. It feels silly, but he’s terrified of her. He had hoped to get along with Eddie’s mother. Had hoped for a more motherly relationship than he’d been able to achieve with his own, but he can tell already that won’t be happening.

He tries to steer clear of her, but she manages to catch him in a corner he can’t escape from.

“You’re the carrier my son has deigned to marry?” she asks, shrewd and unamused.

Buck feels his face flush. It is normal in the city to come across loud, opinionated women. He has run into his fair share of women who politely insult him while smiling into his face. Mrs. Diaz clearly has no patience for politeness.

Buck nods, tightly.

“Eddie’s father and I had hoped he would wed a woman, a new mother for Christopher,” she says with impudence, eyeing Buck up and down, “A petite woman preferably, with adequate child rearing skills.”

Mrs. Diaz looks him over again and seems to find him wanting in every aspect. Buck wishes the earth would swallow him up right where he stands.

“Carriers can raise children,” Buck finds himself mumbling softly. His mother hates it when he does that.

“Eddie has never listened to our wishes, always thinking he knows best,” she continues, as if he didn’t speak, “But I know what Christopher needs, and you had better do right by my grandchild.”

There was a meanness to her words that Buck hadn’t expected. They had felt like some sort of threat.

She gives him one last look in the eye before walking down the aisle toward the pews in the front.

Buck tries to force the conversation from his mind, but all he can think is: Was I just threatened on my own wedding day by my future mother-in-law?

—

Bishop Brian is quick and to the point, performing the ceremony succinctly.

When he pronounces them married, their families clap politely, and Buck finds himself momentarily stuck in thought. Does Eddie wish to kiss him? He’s never kissed anyone before. Will Eddie be disappointed if he’s no good at it? Eddie has kissed before. Does he know Buck has never been kissed?

He quickly comes back into himself, seeing Eddie lean towards him, raising slightly on his toes. Without thinking any further, Buck takes Eddie’s hands into his own, slowly leans down, and meets Eddie halfway.

Plush lips meet his own in a gentle press and then it’s over. 

Buck’s heart flutters in his chest.

Eddie keeps Buck’s left hand wrapped in his own. Their fingers threaded together all the way down the aisle and out of the church.

—

Everyone returns to the Buckley family home after the wedding. They have provided an intimate and modest dinner. 

Buck finds himself drinking more than his fair share of wine, feeling anxious about his wedding night. He’s been surprised by himself, finding that though he is nervous, the thought of being intimate for the first time is thrilling. Especially when it will be with a man as handsome as Eddie.

Throughout the aperitif, meal, and dessert, Eddie stays by his side, keeping a hand on his arm or his hand finding Buck’s. He enjoys the warmth of Eddie’s hand and the rugged skin, feeling over the rough knuckles and feeling a tingling in his own palm. He finds himself distracted from conversation when Eddie rubs his own fingers along Buck’s knuckles and nails in return. It causes a thrill to run up his back.

He finds it endlessly charming. He only ever received physical affection from his sister and had been sorely missing it the months she’d been gone. 

When dessert comes to its conclusion, Buck’s mother retires for the evening. She forgets to congratulate him, walking away up the stairs with goodbyes to guests.

Buck isn’t surprised. She had never had any affection for him upon learning he was a carrier. There had been a mishap with his birth, and she was unable to carry another child. Not being able to provide her husband with an heir had left her despondent and their mother-child relationship had never recovered from it.

Buck’s father draws guests into the drawing room for a digestif. Eddie’s family follows Phillip into the room, but Buck knows his father’s fine brandy isn’t for him.

He lingers in the hall, Eddie questioning him with a look. Buck is thinking of explaining but is saved from having to when Maddie comes from the dining room. 

“Could I have a moment with my brother?” she asks Eddie, glancing around Buck.

“Of course,” Eddie says, “I’ll have one after dinner drink with your father. When you’re done, we can head out.”

Buck nods gratefully and lets Maddie take his hand, leading him toward the parlor.

“I won’t keep him,” she says, “We won’t be long.”

She shuts the door behind her, leaning against it.

“Are you alright?” she asks, concern raising her brows.

“Yes,” Buck says exhaling.

She gives him a long look, trying to assess if he’s lying to her. 

“He seems to be a fine gentleman,” she suggests, almost wondering.

“He truly is, as far as I’ve seen,” Buck tells her.

Her lips turn up at the ends, “And he’s quite dashing.”

“Yes, quite handsome. And the way his shoulders fill his suit jacket is certainly distracting,” Buck can feel the way his cheeks have flushed at the admission, but it’s his dear sister and he wants to share this with her.

“Indeed,” she agrees, sending him a full grin, “Now, that’s not why I asked you in here. Tell me honestly, are you ready for your wedding night?”

“I’ve been educated, Maddie. I understand how it’s supposed to go.”

“Oh? Educated in what way?” she asks, quirking a brow inquisitively.

“Not that way,” Buck hisses, “Have you no shame?”

The tinkle of her laughter has always been one of his favorite sounds. Even though she’s being silly and sly, he’s glad to hear it.

“I tease,” she says through her giggles, taking his hand, “But you know what to expect, right?”

“I know what’s expected of me,” he answers honestly, hearing the anxiety in his own voice.

Maddie rubs her thumbs over his knuckles, looking up into his eyes.

“It can be… fun. Enjoyable,” she tells him earnestly, “I think you’ll find it’s not a chore. Mr. Diaz has done this before, let him guide you, though not too fast.”

Buck squeezes her hands, feeling so very grateful for his sister.

“Alright,” he gives her a smile, “The slower the better.”

“Sure,” she says grinning back, “Be open with him. Tell him if you don’t like something.”

“I will,” he tells her truthfully, “Thank you, Maddie.”

“I’m a letter away. If you need me, I’ll come to you, little brother,” she says, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, “Always. No matter what.”

Buck and Maddie share a sweet farewell.

When he leaves the house with Eddie, he doesn’t bother finding his father.

—

While the wedding took place, the remaining servants of the house and a man Eddie hired had loaded Buck’s belongings into a cart. It looked dilapidated, hooked up to a single donkey. It’s out of place in his family’s rich neighborhood.

His leather trunks full of clothing were there along with six large crates bursting with books. Eddie makes a surprised sound when he sees it.

“Perhaps I should have gotten a larger cart?” he says, throwing a grin to Buck.

“I could leave some books behind,” he says embarrassed, cheeks pink, “I don’t have to bring them all.”

Am I already asking for too much , he wonders.

“No,” Eddie stops him, “I said you could bring whatever you wanted, and I meant it.”

“Alright,” Buck says and hopes Eddie is being honest.

Eddie takes both of his hands, making Buck look him in the eye.

“Buck, I told you,” He gazes up, eyes soft and full of truth, “I want you to be happy.”

Buck nods, a tightness in his throat stopping his reply.

—

Eddie drives the cart to the front of a fine hotel. Buck is surprised when they stop, shooting Eddie a questioning glance as he helps him down from the cart.

Eddie only gives him a grin and leads Buck to their room, opening the door and letting Buck enter first.

“I know traditionally our wedding night would have been at my home,” Eddie says, turning on the lights, “But it’s hours away. I thought you might be satisfied with this room instead.”

It truly is a fine room Buck finds. Not many buildings in the city are equipped with electricity yet. It’s incredibly sweet that Eddie would spend this kind of money on him, but it is unnecessary. Buck would have been happy anywhere away from the Buckley house. 

Eddie doesn’t know that yet about him. Buck doesn’t want to talk about it though or to seem ungrateful and marvels at the fancy furnishings instead.

From the hall, they enter into the parlor. Greeted by chairs with full cushions and dark wood end tables with stained glass lamps atop. Fresh flowers sit in the middle of a coffee table. Beyond that, lies the bedroom door.

“It’s beautiful, truly,” he says, running a hand over the back of a chair, “Thank you.”

Tomorrow, they’ll board a train and be off to Texas.

Tonight, Buck is expected to fulfill his new duty as a spouse. He feels excitement simmering low in his gut.

There’s an awkward silence filling the room between them. He must say something.

“Do you think-” he starts before changing his mind. Struggling to keep the embarrassment from his voice he asks, “Shall I get ready for bed?”

“It’s been a long day,” Eddie muses, “If you wish to retire, I would certainly understand.”

He looks up and meets Eddie’s eyes, forcing himself not to look away. He can feel his blush rising.

“No, you misunderstand me,” he explains, face aflame, slowly repeating his question, “Shall I get ready for bed?”

Buck continues to watch his face, seeing when understanding dawns across Eddie’s features, his eyebrows shoot up, mouth agape.

“Oh, I, uh,” Eddie stutters out, “I apologize. I hadn’t expected… Er, that is, I didn’t want to assume-”

Buck shifts his weight, concern hitting him. Did Eddie not want him? Did he not want to consummate their union? Was he not attracted to him?

“It’s just that- I mean I didn’t want t-, We have only just met and…” Eddie tries to explain, trailing off.

Instead of Eddie’s usual self-assuredness, he’s exuding something bashful. His cheeks are pinked up, spanning across his nose. 

“May I speak plainly to you?” Eddie finally asks.

“Please,” Buck says, nodding.

“I figured you would want some time before consummating our marriage. We barely know one another yet,” he explains, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “I’d like to have a willing husband, when we, uh, you know.”

Buck finds himself charmed once again. He has been prepared since adulthood to bear down and make it through however he must for when participating in marital intimacy, knowing he would have no choice in the matter. He was meant to please his husband, whether he wanted to or not.

 But it has become clearer and clearer that he has married an endlessly kind man. A man who cares about how Buck feels. It’s a revelation and freedom of its own.

Buck makes a decision.

“May I also speak plainly to you, Eddie?” he asks.

“Course,” he answers immediately.

“While that is very kind of you, you needn’t worry,” he says, feeling confident for once, “You very much have a willing husband.”

Eddie stares up at him, mouth slightly open, like he can’t quite believe what Buck has just said. He looks like he wants to question him but then nods and leads Buck to the bedroom.

—

Eddie closes the bedroom door behind Buck. He finds he feels quite safe, comfortable even. He’d been worrying over this since the wedding. It was nice not to be full of anticipation any longer.

He sits at the edge of the bed, hands feeling the plush blanket at his sides. He feels calm until Eddie is standing directly in front of him. Slight panic simmers within him. He’d told Maddie he knew what was expected and he did, but he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. The books and lectures he’d had didn’t prepare him for the reality of the situation. 

His eyes catch on the silk tie against Eddie’s chest.

“May I touch you, Buck?” he asks, taking Bucks’ chin and lifting so he meets his gaze. Buck has never felt so small with someone. A shiver runs through him.

He nods throat feeling dry, “Yes.”

Eddie’s hands are gentle as he pulls Buck to stand. He runs his hands up, up, up his arms, gliding up and settling on his shoulders before running down and onto his chest for a moment. He runs them back up and under Buck’s jacket, proceeding to push it off and pulling it from his arms.

Buck licks his lips as he watches Eddie step away to hang it up, then do the same with his own.

He comes back, reaching up to hold Buck’s jaw, fingers trailing down his neck. Buck feels his skin erupts in goose pimples. He’s staring so intently into Eddie’s eyes, he doesn’t expect when Eddie brings his other hand up as well, pulling his face down.

He kisses Buck and it’s nothing like the one they had in church. Eddie is slow with it, but there’s a push and pull to it that Buck finds himself falling into. A rhythm of sliding movements, then a slight opening of lips, the feel of wet, a slip of tongue.

It makes something unfurl within him, deep down. It feels warm and silky. It makes him want to press against the warm body in front of him. He resists.

When Eddie pulls back, Buck feels hot, and a panting escapes his lips.

“That okay?” Eddie asks, voice quiet.

Buck is sure the nod he gives is entirely too eager.

Eddie’s hands are steady as they reach up to unbutton his waistcoat, then his shirt. Buck wishes his own weren’t trembling slightly at his sides.

He finds himself asking, “Have you done this before? With a carrier?”

It’s an entirely inappropriate question and he regrets it a little, but Eddie has been so kind and spoken so plainly. Surely it’s okay for him to ask.

Eddie doesn’t react, continuing to focus on removing Buck’s clothing, a smirk settling upon his face. He pulls Buck’s arms from the waist coat and shirt, turning to toss them over a quilt rack.

“No, not with a carrier,” he answers, “And you?”

Buck is taken aback, but distracted as Eddie undoes his tie, throwing it over Buck’s clothes. Then starts unbuttoning his own shirt.

“Me?” he asks faintly.

“Yes, you,” Eddie says, stripping down to his drawers and undershirt, “Have you done this before?”

Buck isn’t sure what to do with the question. Of course he has never done this before. Carriers are forbidden to sully themselves, to give away their purity to anyone but their husband. If he had committed the act, he would have been disgraced and thrown out, left on his own. No one would ever want him.

Buck turns the question over in his mind. Is Eddie implying that his virtue is in question? Does he think Buck’s father lied to marry off his son?

His thoughts are interrupted when he’s pushed to sit on the bed, Eddie kneeling to remove his shoes.

It’s quite a sight to see, Eddie kneeling before him practically between his thighs. He swallows.

“Well?” Eddie asks again, seeming not to care what the answer may be. He pulls the shoes from Buck’s feet, then rolls his socks down and off. Caressing Buck’s ankle and arc of his foot, Eddie looks up at him.

“No, it wouldn’t be proper,” Buck settles on saying.

Eddie hums, “Plenty of carriers do it.”

“Not this one,” Buck replies.

Eddie grins up at him, setting his warm palms on Buck’s knees.

“Then I guess I’m lucky,” he says, “I’m the only one that gets to have you.”

Buck looks into those warm brown eyes and hopes that it will be true. That he’ll never have to marry again. That the first, last, and only man to ever touch him, will be Eddie. No one else for the rest of his life.

Eddie, full of confidence, says, “I’ll make sure this is good for you.”

And Buck feels sure of it. This gorgeous and handsome man, kneeling in front of him, seemingly happy to be Buck’s only will absolutely be the best. Shivers run up his spine.

Eddie leans closer, hands moving to the fastenings at his waist. He opens them easily and drags them down Buck’s thighs, leaving goose pimples in their wake. He stands, folding the pants, adding them atop the growing pile of clothing.

“Lay down,” Eddie tells him.

Buck realizes he can see his cock now. It’s outline straining and visible against his drawers now that he’s standing.

He does as he’s told, lying back resting his head on a pillow. His eyes don't leave Eddie the whole time.

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed at his hip, reaching down Buck’s body, grasping his ankle. He slides his hand up, feeling Buck’s shin, his knee, sliding down over the inside of his thigh. A line of heat surges through him. Eddie’s hand glides up to grip the side of his hip through the silk of Buck’s drawers, caressing the bone with his thumb. Buck’s undershirt rides up as Eddie slides his hand up his stomach, over his chest and up his neck.

He moves then, keeping his hand on Buck, to throw a leg over and straddle him. Buck feels himself shaking a bit when Eddie finally leans down to kiss him. Buck moans into it, letting out a louder sound when Eddie’s tongue parts his lips, slipping in and sliding across his own.

It’s decadent. Buck doesn’t know how he’s ever gone without this.

He revels in the feeling of Eddie’s soft tongue petting against his own. Eddie’s thumb rests on his pulse, surely feeling the rabbit-quick beat of Buck’s heart.

Eddie pulls away to rearrange himself, laying between his legs, body over Buck’s. His fingers play with the hem of Buck’s undershirt.

“May I remove this?” he asks.

“Yes,” Buck rasps in answer, sitting up a bit to help in its removal. Eddie strips his own too.

Buck had admired Eddie’s hands before. They were rough and large, so much larger than his own, and sun kissed. Eddie’s torso is sun kissed too. Tan and muscular, broad and strong. He may not be as tall as Buck, but he’s clearly more powerful. Buck finds himself thinking Eddie is devastatingly handsome.

“You are so beautiful,” Eddie tells him, looking down. Buck knows that’s not true. His skin is pale and milky compared to Eddie’s. It’s splotchy in places, red with heat from their actions.

“I really like this too,” he says, running his hand up Buck’s chest and to his face, thumbing at his birthmark.

Buck’s breath catches. No one has ever said that to him before. He means to argue but is stopped when Eddie kisses him again. Lips soft and wet, tongue dipping into Buck’s mouth before pulling away to kiss over Buck’s jaw and down onto his neck. Buck gasps at the feeling and Eddie moves further down to his chest.

Eddie presses open mouthed kisses across his chest muscles, cupping them with his hands on each side. Buck’s back arches when Eddie’s tongue laves over a nipple, the sensation a shock to his system.

Eddie laughs, rubbing a thumb over the stiff peak, “You like that?”

Buck nods, “Uh-huh.”

He doesn’t know when it happened, but his hand has made its way into Eddie’s hair, holding him in place. Eddie goes back to lapping over his nipples, sucking at the pebbled skin.

Buck lies there groaning. He has never felt anything so good in all his life.

Eddie pulls away eventually, sitting up and back between Buck’s spread thighs, looking down at him. There’s a hunger in his gaze Buck has never seen directed at himself. No one has ever looked at him like this.

Eddie’s eyes trail down his body, landing on his straining cock that’s become wet where the tip meets the silk fabric of his drawers. Buck somehow doesn’t feel embarrassed by the gaze. He feels lit from the inside, yearning for more.

“May I remove these as well?” Eddie asks, reaching out and setting his fingertips at the opening of Buck’s drawers.

He nods, not taking his eyes from Eddie’s hand. He watches as the buttons are slipped open, feeling the fabric slide down his thighs and off.

He’s naked. He’s naked in front of his husband and more aroused than he’s ever been.

“You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen,” Eddie says, face full of wonder.

Buck tamps down the sound that rises from him when he hears Eddie say that.

Eddie leans down and kisses his hip, mouthing at the skin. His lips are hot like a brand against Buck’s skin, his wet tongue slides across the bone. Buck forces himself to be still.

“I’d like to get my mouth on you,” Eddie says, “But not tonight. Another time perhaps.”

Buck’s heart stutters in shock. He’s heard of the act, but only from accidental eavesdropping. Polite society finds it uncouth and beneath them, something only harlots do. Was that something that normally happened in the bedroom between married people? He didn’t know but was certainly intrigued by the idea of it.

Eddie moves then to pull the side table drawer open, rustling within it. He pulls out a vial of oil, setting it by Buck’s hip. He backs up, standing at the end of the bed and pulling down his drawers.

He’s fully nude, Buck’s mind supplies. He takes in the sharp cut of his hips, the thatch of black hair leading to his cock. 

“Looking your fill?” Eddie asks, smirking at him.

Buck hums, “You had your turn, so I’ll have mine.”

It makes Eddie laugh and Buck smiles satisfied.

Eddie is hard and his cock generous. Not as long as Buck’s, but certainly wider. Buck can’t look away. It bobs in the air as Eddie crawls back onto the bed.

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asks, polite, so polite.

Yes, please, you already have been , Buck wants to plead, do it more, more, more.

“Yes,” he says instead.

“It’s easier like this,” Eddie tells him, helping to turn Buck over onto his hands and knees.

Buck waits as he hears Eddie fiddling with the vial. 

Finally, he feels Eddie’s thumb pet over his hole, then a slick fingertip sliding against it.

“Relax now,” Eddie says.

The sensation is odd as Eddie rubs in soft circles, massaging at the rim. Buck likes it, he thinks.

Buck sucks in a breath when Eddie presses in slightly. He’s so sensitive, aching with a deep want.

“It’s different than with a woman,” Eddie muses under his breath, mostly to himself, “But no less appealing.”

Buck flushes.

Eddie takes his time, rubbing and petting his hole over and over, dipping in shallowly here and there. He kisses up Buck’s back. The hand unoccupied comes to rest on the round of his ass, spreading him open.

Buck feels utterly exposed. He flushes wondering what a sight he must be, on all fours, ass in the air like an animal waiting to be bred. Like a broodmare from Eddie’s ranch. His stomach quivers at the thought. He feels the oil trickling down his thighs and his cheeks throbbing with his heartbeat.

Eddie finally pushes in with one finger, pulling out and sinking deeper until his knuckles press against him. Buck groans loudly, unable to stop it.

“Ah, I’ve got you,” Eddie says, petting at his thigh, still thrusting his finger in and out for a long moment.

“Feel alright?” he asks Buck.

Buck nods furiously. It doesn’t hurt, he thinks, it doesn’t feel like enough.

“Alright then,” Eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. He pulls his finger out and it feels like a loss. A moment later it’s back, petting over Buck again before pushing in, this time with two.

“Oh,” Buck gasps. 

He falls onto his elbows. Now this he feels. The fingers sink deep within him. It’s incredible.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, thrusting his fingers several times into him. He curls them, crooking them and rakes over something that makes Buck keen.

“Yeah,” Eddie says and repeats the motion again and again until Buck is groaning and shaking, pressing his forehead into the bed.

Eddie works three fingers into him. Buck feels himself helpless to resist pushing back into them, Eddie’s knuckles catching on his rim. It drags raw sounds of pleasure out of him.

“Think you’re ready now?” Eddie asks, pushing and pulling at his opening, stroking that spot inside.

Buck’s mind reels and he can’t answer.

Carefully, Eddie withdraws his fingers, “Yeah, I think you’re ready.”

He moves closer, thighs pressing against Buck’s.

“Stop,” Buck says, and Eddie pulls away quickly, hands raised.

“No, I just-” he says, moving slowly, turning his body over, “If it’s alright, I’d like it if our first time were face to face.”

Eddie’s a sight to behold. His skin glows in the lamplight, a sheen of sweat spreads out over his forehead and down his neck, chest glistening slightly. He looks eager and flushed.

“Yes, Of course,” he breathes out, “If this is how you want it.”

Buck nods and looks down to where Eddie’s cock hangs hard and heavy, wet at the tip. He watches as Eddie pours oil into his hand, working it over his cock.

He slips closer between Buck’s thighs, parting them further so he can see Buck’s hole.

“God,” Eddie murmurs to him, “Look at you.”

He rubs his cockhead over Buck’s opening. Then he leans forward pressing kisses to Buck’s stomach, trailing higher up his chest, then to his mouth. Tongue dipping straight in, this kiss messier than their other had been.

Buck’s breath catches in his chest, and he pulls away from the kiss when Eddie finally pushes in.

“Oh oh,” he cries out, overwhelmed by the feeling. 

The pressure, the heat, the pleasure take hold of him. He’s never felt anything so glorious as this. He’s touched himself, alone and curious, but it never felt this way.

Do I feel good inside , he wants to ask, Do you feel as good as I do?

Above him, Eddie is breathing heavily, seeming to be having trouble holding still, hips hitching slightly. His hands hold Buck’s thighs up, hands flexing now and then. He’s pressed so deep inside Buck, holding him open and stretching him wide. It aches in the best way and Buck can feel it in his gut, his chest, his throat.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out, he moves then. 

Pulling back before pushing in again and again and again. He thrusts into Buck, stopping to grind deep here and there. He takes his grip off of Buck’s legs, using his hands to balance as he leans forward to mouth and lick at Buck’s chest. His breath is hot against Buck’s skin as he groans.

Buck grabs at his hair with one hand and his shoulder with the other, desperate for something to cling to as he unravels. Little gasping ah’s leave him with each thrust of Eddie’s hips.

“Are you close?” Eddie asks, teeth clenched together. He’s been at it for a little while, sometimes pausing to run his hand over Buck’s body or kissing him again, sipping at his lips. Buck can’t answer, too overwhelmed at all the sensation.

“You alright,” Eddie asks when he doesn’t answer. He leans back over Buck’s body, driving deeper, dragging over that spot Buck’s come to love. 

Buck whines, high and pitiful. It should be embarrassing, but he can’t spare a thought to care.

“Yeah,” Eddie smirks at him, “You’re alright.”

He buries his face into Buck’s neck, sucking and mouthing, continuing his assault on that spot. Buck is on fire, hot and aching, his insides alight.

He’s so overcome, he doesn't notice when Eddie’s hand slips between them and grabs his cock. Eddie’s callused hand slides over his sensitive skin, so different from his own. It glides easily, wet with the mess Buck has made of himself.

Eddie’s hand works over him quickly, twisting over the head as he continues burying himself inside. Buck cries out when he comes. It feels like he’s been turned inside out, his body arching as if trying to get closer and away from the sensations running through him.

“Fuck, yeah. There you go,” Eddie groans, and a moment later, his cock kicks hard and he spends himself inside of Buck. He collapses onto Buck panting, laying there buried deep, letting Buck pet at his back and shoulders.

When he pulls out, Buck feels wet and open, Eddie’s come trickling out of him. He flushes deeper than he ever has, burying his face into a pillow. Eddie collapses onto the bed beside him. He says nothing for so long, Buck wonders if he's fallen asleep.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, finally breaking the silence.

Buck had been dozing off and he is startled out of it. He takes a moment to assess his body. He’s a bit sore, but that’s not unexpected. Nothing hurts, nothing seems torn.

“No,” he mumbles, tired and worn out, “Not at all.”

Eddie hums, getting up from the bed. Buck blearily watches as he shuffles across the room to the basin. Eddie comes to his side again, holding a wet washcloth, and eases Buck’s thighs apart with a warm hand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, and Buck lets him, not having the energy to do it himself. Eddie has been so gentle with him, and Buck finds it easy to trust him, whether that’s stupid or not.

He lies there, prone, mind tired and eyes bleary. Eddie moves around him, pulling bedclothes over him. He settles in bed next to Buck, turning the lamp off.

No more is said, but Eddie’s hand finds his own under the blanket.

Between one breath and the next, Buck falls asleep.

Chapter Text

In the morning, they rise at an early hour. Buck steals glances at Eddie as he dresses, catching his eyes several times. He has to force himself not to grin.

Buck fixes his hair in the mirror over the basin. Eddie comes up behind him, looking smug and proud. It’s a good look on him.

“Mm, I got you good,” he tells Buck, pointing to something at his throat. 

Looking at where he’s pointing, Buck sees a mark high on his throat. He slaps a hand over it, scandalized. He pulls his collar high, tightening his tie around it. His family would be ashamed if someone in society were to see him with it, but it’s hard to be upset over a sign of how much he’d pleased his husband. How much he’d been pleased by him.

He decides not to worry over it a second longer and watches as Eddie smiles at him again, before moving to the parlor.

Alone, Buck finishes adjusting his tie, exhaling and looking at himself in the mirror.

Last night had been–

Wondrous, indescribable, amazing.

He had been led to believe that marital relations were part of his spousal duties, something he’d have to endure with grace only a few times a month when his husband called to act upon his husbandly rights. He– He hadn’t known. He hadn’t understood what it could truly be like.

Maybe he understood now why a daughter or carrier would take the risk, make the leap and foray into the forbidden.

He thinks back and remembers the slide of Eddie’s tongue against his, his palms running over Buck’s skin, the weight of Eddie’s body pressing him into the bed, the feel of his cock hitting that spot inside him. It sends a shiver through him and he has to take a breath.

If that’s how it was- how it would feel- every time, Buck thinks it would be a duty he would gladly perform, no enduring needed.

“Buck,” Eddie calls from the other room, breaking Buck’s lascivious thoughts, “Breakfast?”

He walks into the parlor to find Eddie has prepared a spread on the table. There are plates holding pear slices, squares of cheese, and slices of a hearty bread.

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but it’ll get us to the station and on our way,” he says, sitting.

“It’s perfect,” Buck reassures him, giving him a soft smile and receiving one back.

“It’ll take some time to secure your things onto the train,” Eddie says, “We should head out soon.”

Buck hides his grimace, nodding instead. Once again, he’s feeling worried he’d asked to bring too much.

—

Buck is disappointed when they arrive at the train station. None of his family have come to see them off. It’s unsurprising, but still disheartening.

He’s left alone when Eddie excuses himself to oversee the packing of Buck’s trunks and crates onto the train.

He ponders the distance between Pennsylvania and Texas. It will take two days for them to arrive. Eddie has already warned there will be a further journey out to his ranch from the station in Texas.

The distance is large and stretching. This isn’t the same as when Buck was sent to boarding school in New York. The cultural shift will be bigger than Buck’s ever experienced. This is something new, something different. This is Buck’s first foray into the great unknown, into wide open spaces.

It left Buck feeling excited. He’d always craved adventure and nature, reading about fictional exploits in his many books. Getting something he thought he’d never have feels like a freedom in itself.

Eddie comes back a moment later, catching Buck smiling to himself.

“We have to board now,” he says, holding out his hand.

Buck takes it and when they step onto the train, he feels like he’s stepping into his future and it’s bright.

—

Buck stretches as much as he can without seeming rude. The train ride had been tiring with its tiny seats and tiny beds. He’s glad to be off of it.

At least the trip was enough to let him finish one book and start another.

Buck follows Eddie off the platform, toward the cargo collection area.

“Ravi!” Eddie hollers, waving at a man standing a good distance away.

Ravi, the man in question, waves back and runs over. He’s shorter than Buck with shiny black hair and brown skin. He’s also very handsome.

“This is my husband, Buck,” Eddie says, introducing them, “Buck, this is one of my ranch hands, Ravi.”

“It’s awfully nice to meet you, Buck,” Ravi says, sticking his hand out.

Buck takes his hand, shaking it, “Likewise.”

“Ravi brought a cart from the ranch,” Eddie explains, “He’s going to help us get your belongings packed up.”

Between Ravi, Eddie, and himself, they get Buck’s trunks and crates loaded onto the cart relatively quickly.

Halfway through Ravi says to Eddie, “I didn’t figure he’d be helping with this.”

“Why not?” Eddie asks, curious.

Ravi shrugs, “Just didn’t figure he’d be able to lift much.”

Eddie scoffs, “Don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s a fair bit bigger than you.”

Buck struggles not to feel offended by the conversation all around. Though the reality is that he’s not dainty like many carriers, he also takes exception to the inference that he’s large.

“Sure,” Ravi says, rolling his eyes, “But we all know city folk and carriers alike aren’t raised for any kind of hard labor.”

Well that stings. Buck knows it’s a fair assessment, but hearing it so plainly spoken doesn’t sit well with him. He stays silent as they laugh.

“I guess we’ll see how much he can handle out on the ranch,” Ravi continues, shrugging.

Buck’s stomach clenches. They’ve just met and this man has such a low opinion of him. It feels unfair. He feels a great urge to prove him wrong.

“I haven’t been able to understand what you were thinking. Getting yourself a pampered city boy for a husband,” Ravi speaks lowly, the words clearly only meant for Eddie to hear.

Buck glances at Eddie’s face and catches the glare he throws at Ravi. He doesn’t answer.

“Now I know what you were thinking though,” Ravi continues, “Because I’ve got eyes and he is fine indeed.”

Buck flushes, pretending he heard none of what Ravi said.

—

“Was that the whole town?” Buck asks once they’ve been on the road a while, dirt and dust flying. His teeth feel gritty.

Ravi laughs behind them and Eddie shushes him.

“That was El Paso, around the depot,” he explains, “Lots of towns in Texas ain’t much, but it has a market, a smithy, a few shops, the depot, and a church. Not much else aside from a station house. There’s a bigger city much further out, but it’s quite a trip.”

Buck nods, humming his understanding. 

He goes back to watching the countryside roll by. The fields stretch for miles and miles. The flat ground makes the sky seem huge, spanning farther than Buck’s ever been able to see. There’s nothing but rolling fields covered in wildflowers and dotted with hay bales. The sky is full of fluffy clouds on a blue backdrop. It looks like a cowboy cliche.

It’s beautiful.

They stop a while later, Ravi needing to check a wheel that had been riding rough. 

Buck takes the opportunity to stretch his legs, walking down the road a ways. He stops in front of a patch of blue wildflowers. Picking one, he recognizes it as a bluebonnet. He read in a book once that it was listed as the state flower of Texas.

The book said the flower symbolizes pride and resilience. They were also associated with bravery and admiration. 

It makes him think of Eddie. He slips the stem through the buttonhole on his jacket pocket before loading back up into the cart.

He felt a smile on his face for the rest of the ride, reaching up to feel at the flower heads now and then.

—

They eventually pull off the main road and onto a narrow lane lined with fences on either side that cuts through a field. 

There are horses in the pasture and a small house sitting atop a hill in the distance.

“That’s where my head ranch hand, Karen, lives with her wife,” Eddie says, pointing to it, “They’ve got a couple of youngins they took in a while back.”

It’s another few minutes of travel before they come upon the main house. It’s a two storied white farmhouse with a tin roof. The front door is a nice shade of blue and it has a porch wrapping around one side.

It’s nothing like Buck had imagined. It’s better. Infinitely better.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Eddie watching his face. Buck lets a wide smile come across it.

The house is in the middle of rolling fields and pastures, the barns behind it are painted red. The grass covering the ground between the house and fences is well groomed.

“Those are the horse barns,” Eddie tells him, gesturing toward them, “Got some silos that a way. We share them with some neighbors.”

They come to a stop in front of the house, a woman wearing a straw cowboy hat and long blonde braids comes out onto the porch followed by another woman with hair shorn close to her scalp. Both have beautiful dark skin, their faces are welcoming, all smiles.

“This is Hen Wilson and her wife, Karen. I told you Karen is my head ranch hand. She helps train horses too and Hen helps run things around the house when I’m away,” Eddie explains.

“Hen, Karen,” he says, “This is my husband, Buck.”

Karen nods at him, giving his hand a quick shake. Hen comes forward, face kind with a big grin, and grasps Buck’s hand to shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Diaz,” Hen says. Buck’s confused for a moment before he realizes she’s referring to him. It caught him off guard.

“I’m Henrietta,” she continues, “But don’t call me that. I just go by Hen.

“It’s lovely to meet you too,” he says, “I’ll call you Hen, if you’d do the same and call me Buck.”

She gives him a smile, nodding.

“Ravi, you mind helping me and Buck unload the cart?” Eddie asks, “My husband has ever so many things.”

Buck feels his cheeks flush and he has to tamp down his embarrassment. He really should have left some books behind, shouldn’t he?

“You sure he wouldn’t rather go get familiar with the ladies? Have a coffee and make conversation?” he hears Ravi ask.

Buck watches Hen raise her brows at his face which settles into a grimace at the question. 

He forces his face into submission, smoothing the unbecoming look over. Putting all of his etiquette training to good use, he slaps a charming smile on, and turns to address Ravi.

“No,” he says cheerily, “He would not rather.”

Then he primly walks straight over to the cart and hefts out a crate. 

Looking at Eddie, he asks, “Where am I headed with this?”

The corner of Eddie’s mouth is crooked up and he’s looking satisfied, almost smug. He comes over beside Buck and grabs a crate of his own.

“Right this way,” Eddie says, then to Ravi, “Maybe you’d prefer to sit and have coffee with the ladies instead?”

Buck hears Ravi huff out a laugh behind them as they make their way inside.

Buck’s pleased to find the inside of the house is nice and well kept, not that he thought it wouldn’t be. It was just that Eddie is a single man running his own ranch and keeping his own house. Buck hadn’t known if he had house staff or help.

The foyer floor is covered in nice red brick tile. When they enter the hall, he admires the gleaming hardwood floors. He sees a parlor with cozy looking furniture and a dining room at the back, its table and chairs clearly well oiled as the surface on the table gleams in the light.

“Kitchen’s in the back of the house,” Eddie tells him as they head for the staircase and start to ascend, “And there’s a sitting room through the parlor.”

A thought strikes him on the way up and Buck asks, “So when do I get to meet your son?”

They step into a hallway at the top of the stairs.

“Christopher? He’s been staying with the Nash’s in town while I was away,” Eddie tells him, “Their daughter, May, looked after him and her brother. Made sure they got to school and earned herself a bit of spending money. I’ll go pick him up in a day or two. Figured I’d get you settled in first.”

“Oh,” Buck says. He’s a little disappointed. Eddie hadn’t said too much about his son on the train, but Buck had been awfully excited to meet him. Being around children often made him feel calm. They were more open than adults and much less judgemental.

Eddie leads him down the hall to the room second from the last. He can see through the doorway that the last room is clearly the master bedroom, with a large iron bed frame.

When he enters the room next to the master, he sees it’s a smaller bedroom, though no less fine.  It holds a smaller bed, this one wooden, and there’s another door connecting it to the master bedroom.

That’s so strange , Buck thinks to himself, before realizing what’s going on.

Back home, his mother and father didn’t share a room. They each had their own and those had an adjoining door too.

He’d always felt that it was a silly tradition. He’d hoped when he married, his husband would be more modern minded and want to share a bed and room with him. He’d assumed living on a ranch instead of a city might mean he’d be expected even, to share with Eddie.

It seems he’s gotten that wrong. He feels… He’s not sure what he feels about that.

They sit the crates down, walking back into the hall.

Eddie points to doors as they walk back down the hall, “That rooms mine. This one on the other side of yours was a sewing room when my parents lived here. The next is a bathroom.”

“A bathroom?” Buck asks, shocked. 

He opens the door to have a look. It’s a simple room with a toilet and sink. He can’t believe it. He’d thought surely he’d be using an outhouse way out here in the middle of nowhere. It’s odd, a house not having electricity but equipped with a bathroom.

“Yep,” Eddie says and Buck can tell  he’s proud, “My Pa built this house a while back and my Mama insisted he add one. Still have to pull the washtub out in the kitchen for bathing, but having a toilet inside sure beats the outhouse.”

“So you grew up with an outhouse?” Buck couldn’t imagine it.

“Sure did. Outhouse and a washtub on the back porch. Kitchen if it was too cold,” Eddie says nodding.

Buck feels quite spoiled. He’d had indoor plumbing his entire life. He’d have used the outhouse with no complaint, but it pleases him not to have to.

“We’ve still got one out back if you’d like to give it a go,” Eddie says, a smirk on his face.

Buck wrinkles his nose, “No, thank you.”

Eddie laughs as they step back into the hall. He points to the last door, opposite the master at the other end.

“And this is Christopher’s room,” he tells Buck, opening the door.

Buck peeks in. He sees a child sized bed covered in a blue gingham quilt, a brightly colored rug covers the floor under it. Shelves and a dresser are neat, but covered in toys and various collections of a little boy. There are precious drawings hung on the walls of horses, trains, and rolling green hills under a yellow sun. A desk sits against one wall and a tall yellow wardrobe against another.

It feels happy in there with such a uniquely childlike character. Nothing like Buck’s own childhood bedroom that had to be kept in pristine condition. It always felt like there was no sign Buck actually resided within his own four walls. He’s sure now there isn’t a single thing left in the Buckley house that tells he ever existed there.

Clearly this is a different kind of house and it brings a smile to his face.

“I can’t wait to meet him,” he tells Eddie honestly.

Eddie gives him a grin, the kind that’s turning into one of Buck’s favorite things.

—

Eddie, Buck, and Ravi get his belongings piled into his room. Eddie leaves and returns, muscles flexing as he carries in a small three tier bookshelf and sits it against a wall.

“This is all I have for your books right now,” he tells Buck, “You’re free to add whatever you’d like to the bookcases in the sitting room.”

“Thank you,” Buck says, sitting on the floor, already sorting through which books he wants on the shelves.

“Listen, I’ve got a few things I need to check on since I’ve been gone so long. Some pregnant mares and harvesting to attend to,” he says, standing close to Buck’s shoulder where he sits on the floor, “Unpack as much as you like and we’ll find somewhere to store your trunks. You’ll be alright here?”

Buck nods, but he wishes Eddie would stay or at least take Buck with him. He wants to cringe at his own neediness.

He wonders if Eddie doesn’t pick up on it a bit because he sees in his periphery that Eddie’s hand reaches out, as if he wants to touch him, but he stops. His hand hangs in the air for a moment before he pulls it back and slips it into his pocket.

Buck is surprised by how much he’d wanted that touch. He feels bereft. Denied. Eddie had been so free with his physical shows of affection in Hershey. Buck had lapped it up like a cat licking cream. When they boarded the train, the touches had trailed off to nothing. It stirs something despondent in Buck’s chest.

“Let Hen or Karen know if you need something. They’ll be helping you get used to things, how the house runs and such, since you’ll be taking over,” he says as he walks to the door.

Buck keeps his eyes on his books, “I will.”

Eddie knocks a knuckle once against the doorframe and heads down the hall, stairs creaking as he makes his way down and into the lower level of the house. He hears him laugh and say something to someone below.

His thoughts swirl. Right, he struggles to remind himself that he was bought to manage the house and raise the child. Not for companionship. Not for wasting time pining for things he’ll certainly never have. And certainly not for romance. Though his heart longs for it and he hopes every day that Eddie wants the same.

Before he lines books up on the shelves, he slips the bluebonnet he’d collected from his jacket buttonhole, sliding it between the pages of one book, pressing it firmly. Then he adds it and other books to each shelf until full. After that he begins sorting through the clothing in the trunks, making neat piles on the floor around him. His legs go numb at some point and he stretches out on his back to relieve them, head resting on a sweet smelling pile of nightshirts.

It’s been a long day. He only intends to rest for a moment, but as he blinks slowly up at the ceiling, he falls into slumber.

—

Buck wakes, feeling something stroke his cheek. He blinks his eyes open to see Eddie next to him, the back of his fingers at Buck’s jaw.

“Mm,” he groans, back stiff from the floor, “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

Eddie pulls his hand away, a soft smile gracing his face, “That’s alright. Hen kindly made us supper, if you’re hungry?”

Buck nods, feeling famished, and rises. Eddie helps him up and Buck cherishes the contact their hands make. Then he follows Eddie down the stairs and into the dining room where the table is covered in platters and pans of delicious smelling food.

He sees a pork roast, green beans, and potato mash with a server full of gravy. Mouthwateringly fluffy biscuits sit in a cast iron skillet. It’s nothing like what Buck was served at home, but it’s certainly better. He finds himself enjoying it quite a bit and reaches for a second slice of roast.

“Like it, do you?” Eddie questions, “Wasn’t sure if it would suit your tastes. Hen really hoped you would enjoy it.”

“It’s delicious,” he says, spooning more green beans onto his plate, “The fancy dishes from home never quite satisfied the way this does.”

Eddie grins and chuckles, “Careful you don’t get too satisfied or you’ll fatten up for winter too soon.”

Buck halts, fork full of green beans in front of his mouth.

Eddie’s not wrong. Buck is already fairly large, especially for a carrier. He’s been told all his life that his size is a detriment to the attraction of others. Is that why Eddie has stopped touching him? Is he repelled after seeing Buck unclothed on the only night they spent together?

Eddie catches sight of whatever expression Buck’s face is making.

“I only aim to tease,” he says, trying to sound reassuring, “Have as much as you want. A good appetite will only make you stronger out here. And to be frank, I find you beautiful just the way you are.”

Buck gives him a stiff smile, finally bringing the fork to his mouth, chewing slowly.

When Eddie isn’t looking, he slides the slice of roast back onto the platter.

—

Buck isn’t sure what to expect after dinner, but it’s not to have Eddie tell him “You don’t know your way around here yet. I’ll clean up.”

He shakes his head and goes to the sink with him. Scraping food scraps into a bucket and drying plates after Eddie scrubs and rinses them. It’s nice, domestic even.

When they’re done, he shows Buck into the sitting room. The fading sun shines through the windows while Buck looks around the room. There are dark wooden bookcases lining the walls and a matching desk looking messy in the corner, a leather chair sitting behind it. Two wingback chairs covered in yellow velvet sit close to the bookcases, cushions upon them a little worn. They look like they’d be comfortable for reading.

The cases near the desk are full of educational texts. Buck spots several on agriculture and animal husbandry. He’s almost surprised to find poetry among the fiction books in the other cases, but pleased. 

This is a much nicer collection than his parents had had.

“See anything that interests you?” Eddie asks, arms crossed over his chest, watching Buck peruse the shelves.

He reaches out, pulling a copy of Pride and Prejudice from the shelf, holding it up for Eddie to see.

Eddie hums, “Not a bad choice.”

It feels a bit awkward watching Eddie watching him. Buck fiddles with the book cover.

“I’m going to head up,” Eddie says.

Buck swears that his husband’s eyes travel over his body, lingering on his legs.

“You gonna stay up a while?” Eddie asks.

Buck’s brows furrow and he tilts his head curiously. Is this a test? He has to wonder. He’s been taught that his husband dictates how he lives his life. If Eddie wants him to retire, he will. He’ll have no choice. 

How should he answer? Would Eddie even allow him to stay up by himself? Would he demand Buck to follow him up? To bed? To engage in marriage bed activities again?

Buck feels himself flush at the thought. He’s shocked at how badly he wants that.

Eddie breaks him from his thoughts, “You’re welcome to stay up as long as you like, of course. But on the ranch, we rise pretty early. Just turn the lamps down before you head up.”

Oh. Buck can’t quite believe the small freedom he’s being afforded. Eddie doesn’t seem to understand what he’s given Buck by saying this. He just looks tired, leaning against the doorframe, eyelids heavy. 

Buck looks at the book in his hand and thinks reading in bed might be nice, might let him forget how alone he’ll be tonight as he tries to fall asleep.

“I’ll head up with you,” he says decidedly and tucks the book under his arm.

He and Eddie turn the lamps down as they go. Eddie picks up a candle holder from a table, lighting it to help them see their way up the stairs.

When Eddie stops in front of Buck’s door, he turns to him. He seems to think over what he’s about to say. Stalling perhaps.

“Well,” he says, one hand coming up to rub at his face, “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning?”

Eddie seems almost hesitant when he asks the question. Almost like he’d wanted to ask something else. Buck desperately wishes he’d ask it. He desperately wishes he’d ask Buck to come to bed with him.

“Yes,” he answers, unable to voice his thoughts. The candlelight is too dim. Buck can barely see his face. He watches as Eddie hesitates further, running a hand through his hair.

“Alright,” Eddie settles on, turning and moving to his own door, “I’ll see you then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Buck replies. He watches Eddie walk into his room and close the door behind him, leaving Buck alone in the hall.

He lights the oil lamp in his room and undresses for bed. He grabs a nightshirt from the pile on the floor and pulls on his silk dressing gown.

He thinks he can hear the sound of fabric rustling behind the closed door connecting his room to Eddie’s. Try as he might, he can’t help but picture Eddie taking his clothing off piece by piece. He remembers the cut of Eddie’s hips and the glisten of sweat on his tan skin. It makes him feel scandalous before he remembers Eddie is his husband and maybe it’s alright if he thinks about things like that from time to time.

He slips into bed beneath the covers. It’s a battle trying to force his mind to focus on the book instead of his loneliness, but eventually he falls into a deep sleep.

—

A thump breaks Buck from his sleep early the next morning. Sun filters in through his window, giving him enough light to try and search for the source of the sound. Another thump and a muffled curse come from behind the door connecting his room to Eddie’s.

He sits up, listening to the sound of Eddie readying himself for the day. It makes him smile.

A moment later, the door cracks open enough for Eddie to pop his head into the room.

“Good, you’re up,” he says, fully opening the door and walking through.

He looks soft and casual in his loose white linen shirt and brown pants held up with suspenders. He looks handsome.

“I’m going to start breakfast, so come down when you’re ready,” he tells Buck, buttoning his sleeves, “I’m going to show you around the ranch today.”

Buck nods, yawning, still tired. Eddie nods back and graces him with that soft smile before turning and walking out of the room.

—

After breakfast, Eddie leads Buck out to the horse barn. Buck is delighted as they pass pens full of foals, stopping now and again to reach his hand over the gate to give them a pat.

They come upon a young asian man raking straw out of a stall. He looks up when he hears them approach, walking out of the stall and resting the rake against it.

“This is my stable hand, Albert Han,” Eddie tells him, “His brother owns the general store in El Paso.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Buck says.

“Likewise,” Albert replies with an easy smile.

“Is she ready,” Eddie almost whispers to Albert. He nods to Eddie before walking off down the line of stalls.

Eddie turns to him, “We were married awful fast. I know there wasn’t much time for any celebration or gifts.”

Buck nods, remembering the modest feast his family provided as their only wedding festivity.

“Things are few and far between around here and I myself am often about on the land,” he continues, “I want you to have a way to get around on your own. So I’ve picked one of the fine ladies from my herd for you.”

“Oh, Eddie, that’s too kind of you. Surely that’s too much for a gift. I couldn’t possibly accept it,” Buck says. Horses are quite expensive and he’d be ashamed to admit he has no idea how to ride one.

“You will though,” Eddie tells him, “She’s yours. To have and ride whenever you like.”

He begins to argue, but Albert comes up the walkway with the most beautiful mare Buck has ever seen. She’s the color of champagne mixed with cream and her coat shines, silky. Her front legs, mane, and tail are black and striking against the color of the rest of her. There’s a white spot on her forehead between her eyes, almost in the shape of a star.

“Oh,” Buck takes in a breath, “She’s stunning.”

“And she’s yours,” Eddie says again, “A fine American Cream draft horse. Her name is Starshine.”

Buck runs his hand over her neck and she flicks her ears, “Starshine.”

He’s never been around horses, was certainly never allowed to learn to ride one. Once in boarding school, he’d been allowed to ride behind a teacher, only to learn how to sidesaddle appropriately.

“I don’t know how to ride,” he confesses, feeling embarrassed. He’s scared to look at Albert to see his reaction. Certainly Ravi would have teased him for it, but Albert doesn’t. He just hands the reins to Eddie and goes back to mucking the stall.

“That’s alright,” Eddie grins, walking up to pat the other side of Starshine’s neck, “I’ll teach you.”

—

Eddie spends the rest of the day showing Buck around the ranch. 

He rides Buck place to place on horseback, Buck keeping a tight grip around Eddie’s toned waist, trying not to be obvious as he revels in the feel of him. This is the closest they’ve been since their wedding night and he finds himself surprised at how touch starved he feels.

The acres where he grows corn, wheat, and soybeans are vast and Eddie takes the time to explain some of what they do with the harvest.

He introduces him to the studs and mares, showing him more foals. They ride by the chicken coop behind the house and it stinks to high heaven. Eddie laughs when Buck covers his nose.

They pass a pond on the way back. Eddie regails him with stories of his childhood swimming in it with his sisters and neighbors. They keep it stocked with fish and Eddie says they’ll spend time fishing in the summer.

He shows Buck the root cellar and the kitchen garden just off the back of the porch. Its upkeep will soon be Buck’s job and Hen will show him how.

They make it back just before dinner and while they eat, Eddie tells Buck his plans for the next day.

“I’ve been neglecting my duties today,” he announces, “I’ll be making up for it tomorrow. Likely be gone most of the day. Hen will come down to the house and see what she needs to teach you. That alright?”

“Yes, of course,” Buck answers, ignoring the feeling of unhappiness at not seeing Eddie for so long, “Will you be back for lunch?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I’ll take a pack with me out in the field. I’ll be out the whole day. I’ll see you at supper time most likely.”

Buck nods, hoping his disappointment doesn’t show on his face.

Eddie gives him a long look, saying nothing. Buck wonders what he sees. Surely he’s disheveled from their riding, hair askew. His skin feels a touch greasy. He’s probably a very unappealing sight.

Eddie just gives him that soft smile and tucks back into his dinner.

—

“You don’t know anything about canning?” Hen asks, looking surprised.

“No, I wasn’t taught how to do it,” Buck answers embarrassed.

They’re standing in the kitchen. Hen told him she’d been trying to get the canning finished before Eddie came home and had asked Buck to help.

“Do you know anything about work in the kitchen?” she asks further, clearly not expecting that he does.

“I do, actually,” he says, “I was quite well educated in cooking and baking.”

“So you can roast a bird, but can’t can a bean,” she says, “Know anything about looking after a garden?”

“No, our gardens were kept by the house staff,” he answers sheepishly, keeping his eyes on the dish he’s scrubbing in the sink. He feels incredibly inadequate for all his training and learning.

“Well,” she says, “I guess I’d better get to showing you how things are done around here.”

She walks him through the canning process, laughing incredulously when Buck slices his finger on a canning lid. It stings when he goes to wash his hands later. 

She shows him into the cellar through a door at the back of the kitchen. He sees a few shelves full of canned and jarred goods prepared by Hen. She leads him to one corner where borax, ammonia, and lye sit, used for washing. There’s a large copper pot there too that they use to boil  the clothing before they get scrubbed on a washboard. She shows him upstairs where iron is located, telling him he’ll be responsible for Eddie’s clothing from now on.

Next, she leads him to a closet. Pulling out brooms and a bucket full of scrub brushes, she walks him through cleaning the floors.

It goes like that for hours. Hen making her way through the list of things he’s responsible for to maintain the home. Oiling the furniture, weeding and watering the garden, cleaning ash from the stoves, dusting and beating rugs, where the sewing supplies are to darn and repair clothes, the cleaning and maintenance of cast iron pans, collecting eggs, and feeding the chickens.

The list seems endless. His mind strains at the weight of information he must remember.

Yes, he was educated on the running of a household. A household in the city. A household owned by a man who was probably a lawyer or banker, someone of means. A house full of staff to perform these duties he’s being handed. 

He wasn’t taught to work and scrub and weed. He was taught when and how to order staff to complete such things. It makes him feel… stupid.

How could he have spent his last twenty four years never learning to wash a shirt, can a vegetable, and scrub a floor? He feels ignorant for knowing how to delicately fold a napkin but not how to keep a cast iron skillet from rusting.

He wonders if Hen is judging his utter lack of knowledge when he asks her to pause mid sentence, while he goes to his room for a journal to write down every responsibility he has now. 

He wouldn’t blame her if she were.

—

Buck is standing over the counter, putting the finishing touches on dessert, when he hears a giggle, the titter of excitement from a young child.

He turns, seeing a boy of about seven standing in the kitchen doorway on crutches with metal braces around each leg.

“Well hello there,” Buck says, dusting crumbs from his hands.

“Hello,” the boy says grinning as he adjusts his little round glasses, “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Buck asks, smiling back, “Just finishing up a peach pie. Do you know any little boys that might like a slice of it after dinner?”

“Me! I would!” he says, ambling across the room. He stops in front of the pie, taking a deep sniff, “Mmm smells good!”

Buck hears a laugh come from behind them. Eddie is standing in the doorway, holding a child sized satchel.

“I see you’ve found Buck, Christopher,” he says, eyes gleaming at Buck, cheeks dimpled from his wide smile. There’s a smudge of dirt across Eddie’s nose and Buck is exasperated by how charmed he is by it.

“You’re Buck?” Chris asks, looking up at him.

“I am,” he answers, kneeling down to be at this level, “And you must be Christopher.”

The boy giggles, “It’s awful nice to meet you.”

He holds out his hand for Buck to shake. He takes Chris’s hand without hesitation.

“It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Buck says and boy does he mean it. The child is precious.

Christopher leans in, clearly wanting to tell Buck something his father can’t hear.

“Do you think I could have my slice now?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

Buck laughs, “I think you’d have to ask your Pa about that.”

“About what? Is that pie?” he hears Eddie ask, walking closer.

“Mm-hm, peach,” Buck tells him, “Hope you don’t mind I used a can of them from the cellar.”

“Not at all,” Eddie says, a sly grin on his face, “If I weren’t so filthy, I’d kiss you.”

Oh.

Buck’s eyes grow wide and his heart flutters.

Please, please do it anyway , he thinks, but Eddie doesn’t.

Eddie and Chris eat quickly, tucking into the roast chicken, honeyed carrots, and fried potatoes Buck had prepared. The two are groaning with satisfaction.

Through the meal, Eddie tells Buck about his day, from the horses to fields to picking Chris up from the Nash’s house.

“Miss Athena said she’d sure like to meet you, Buck,” Christopher tells him, mouth full of potato.

“Miss Athena?” he asks, looking to Eddie for answers.

“Mrs. Nash,” Eddie informs him, “She’s the town sheriff. Her husband, Bobby, is the head of the fire house.”

“Oh,” Buck says surprised, “No wonder you felt safe leaving him with them so long.”

“No safer place around,” he says grinning at Buck.

When they finish dinner, Buck brings them each a slice of pie on china plates. He’d been so happy when he found the set in the dining room hutch. The china had a pattern of irises in a pastel purple shade and were quite pretty.

Eddie moans when he takes his first bite, Christopher mimicking the sound. Buck feels the warmth of contentment fill him, pleased by the knowledge his husband and stepson were satisfied with his hard work.

The three finish their pie, Eddie excuses Christopher from the table. The boy thanks Buck for dinner before making his way upstairs.

“I’ll kiss you now,” Eddie says, “That dinner deserves it.”

He leans over quickly, Buck barely having a moment to process what he said. It’s just a peck, so brief, but it makes Buck’s stomach tingle all the same. It tastes like peaches from the pie.

When Eddie pulls back, Buck wishes he would do it again.

Instead, Eddie picks up the plates, walking them into the kitchen, leaving Buck sitting at the table pink cheeked and wishing his husband would return.

—

Growing up, Buck had always felt he was lacking.

He was born a carrier instead of the regular boy his father wanted. He was too tall and too broad, not dainty enough to attract the attention of the best suitors. His birthmark was too noticeable and an eye sore to all who looked upon him. He was a little too wild, his tutors and nannies having to search the grounds around the house or the local park for him as a child. Tisking at him and lecturing when he came home bee stung, dirty, or leading a stray dog. 

He was never able to achieve perfection no matter his endeavors. His grades were not outstanding and he was unable to pay strict attention in class. He lacked the skill for painting and penmanship. He wasn’t charming or adept at conversation no matter how he tried.

He spent hours in classes at boarding school, perfecting walking gracefully instead of tripping over his own feet. Hours and hours spent walking up and down staircases and in and out of rooms.

It made him want to scream and run for the trees he could see out the windows.

He wanted so badly to be good at things.

That’s all to say that he was determined to prove his worth here on the ranch. Hearing the ranch hands talk about him as if he were a good for nothing city boy lit a fire in his gut.

He would do it. He would prove them wrong. No matter what it took.

—

The next three weeks fly by, but at the same time drag slowly.

Buck sets a routine for himself to follow, incorporating every chore Hen informed him about. Each one is listed on a paper torn from his journal. He keeps it in his pocket every day, not wanting to forget a single thing.

Hen has offered him help time and again, but he always tells her no. He is proving something to himself and everyone else. He isn’t useless. He isn’t privileged. He can and will work just as hard as everyone else here, so help him God.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but the work is exhausting. He rises well before the sun each day, everyone else still asleep. He starts his day making coffee and breakfast, striving for as much variety as he can, making fried eggs, seasoned potatoes, and biscuits one day, bacon and fruit pastries the next, and quiche with porridge another. Each day a different meal is offered up for judgement and he’s thankful when nothing is turned away in distaste.

After making breakfast, he wakes Christopher, readying him for the day.. It’s Buck’s favorite part of each morning, Christopher sleepwarm and sweet, giving him hugs and letting himself be carried down the stairs to the breakfast table. Buck adores the boy and almost hates when Hen comes to collect him on the cart, Denny and Mara, her adopted children, already sitting inside ready for school. Christopher always gives him a kiss on the cheek before letting Buck set him in the cart.

The rest of the day is spent sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, wiping, weeding, watering, boiling, rinsing, scraping, dusting and more. It goes on and on and on. 

When Hen suggests he needn’t do all the chores every day, Buck ignores her. He’s proving something and he won’t be swayed.

He can do it, though his knees ache and are rubbed raw, and his back is stiff and makes it hard to rise from bed, and his hands are dry and cracking. He can do it.

After dinner each night, he devotes several hours to Christopher. Buck takes on the task of helping the child with his arithmetic and spelling. When they’re done, Buck sits in one velvet chair in the sitting room and waits for Chris to climb into his lap. Eddie is often there too, rifling through paperwork at his desk.

Over the weeks, the pair make their way through The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Peter Pan, and Pollyanna. Chris’s reading improves by leaps and bounds. Buck delights in Chris’s amusement at the stories. He wonders at the child’s imagination when he’s given a bath and he pretends to see mermaids in the water after they’ve read Peter Pan. 

It’s all precious to him and Buck stows away the sweet memories with a greedy mind, unwilling to forget such sweet moments.

He begins staying awake later each night, mending holes in clothes and darning holes in socks, using the sewing room to make new pieces of clothing for Christopher, Denny, and Mara. Other nights he could be found in the kitchen, if anyone were awake, making dough for the next morning.

He goes to bed around midnight and gets up the next morning near four.

And all the while he tells himself I can do it, I can do it, I can do it.

—

One morning, Buck accidentally wakes late, the first beginnings of sunlight coming through the window instead of the darkness he’s been rising in. He gets up, mind sluggish with a deep bone-weariness, muscles aching, and joints protesting.

He’s thankful when he recalls today is Saturday. There’s no reason to wake Christopher early and rush through getting him ready for school.

When he finds his way to the kitchen, for the first time in three weeks he decides to make a simple breakfast. Scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast from the loaf of bread he’d made yesterday. That’s as much as he feels up to doing and he sits at the table in the kitchen trying to force his mind to move quicker than it wants to.

Eddie comes in, making a pleased sound over the breakfast, but when he goes to pour coffee from the percolator, he finds it empty.

“Oh,” Buck sighs, “I’m so sorry. I must have forgotten to fill it with water.”

He starts to get up, only for Eddie to hold a hand out stopping him.

“I’ve got it,” he says, turning to the sink and running water into the machine, “You’ve seemed awful tired lately, Buck.”

Buck forces his eyes open and sits up straight, “You’re mistaken.”

Eddie hums, “I believe those saddle bags under your eyes would beg to differ.”

He comes close and runs his fingers along Buck’s temple down to his cheekbone, lingering over his birthmark on the way down. Buck closes his eyes at the feeling. Why can’t Eddie do things like that more often?

“It’s just early,” he mumbles, looking up to find Eddie’s gaze soft on his face.

“It is that,” he says, that soft smile Buck loves playing over his lips. 

Won’t he just kiss me, Buck thinks, just for a little while.

Eddie doesn't. He walks back to the stovetop and pours his cup of coffee.

“You’ve been working up a storm these last few weeks,” he tells Buck, “Why don’t you take it easy today? Have yourself a little rest. Might do you some good.”

This isn’t the first time Eddie has suggested it, but it’s the first time Buck wonders if he’s right. He can’t deny the sheer exhaustion he’s feeling, though he won’t admit it out loud. He moves his leg, trying to find a more comfortable position, biting his lips against the sound that tries to escape when he feels a pain in his knee.

Okay, he thinks, alright.

 “Alright,” he says aloud this time, closing his eyes.

The floorboards creak as Eddie walks nearer to him again. He leans his head back before opening his eyes again. Eddie stares down at him, then quickly leans in, pressing a kiss right to Buck’s birthmark. He leans back just as quickly and starts walking for the door.

“You and Chris have an easy day,” he says stopping in the doorway, “I’ll see you for supper.”

He gives Buck one last smile and departs.

Astonishingly, Buck does let himself take a pause on the household duties. He and Chris enjoy breakfast and spend the morning reading and drawing. He takes Chris outside to help pick vegetables for their lunch and they eat cucumber sandwiches with thick slices of salted tomatoes. Buck takes out his stash of homemade cookies and they dip them into glasses of milk. 

It’s a wonderful morning.

After lunch, Christopher says he feels tired. Buck isn’t surprised. The day before Chris had gone on a ride around the ranch with his father and they had returned quite late. So he takes Chris upstairs and lays with him in bed, running a hand through his curls, until the boy falls asleep.

When he sneaks out of the boy’s room, Buck is struck with the sudden longing to see Starshine. He’s given himself so much to do that he’s neglected seeing her. It’s time to rectify that.

Stepping onto the porch, he sees Hen sweeping.

“Hen, hello,” Buck says, “Doing alright today?”

“Just fine,” she says, giving him a smile, “And yourself?”

“Fine, fine,” he says, “Might I ask you for a favor?”

“Course you can,” she says, setting down the broom, “You ask too little of me already. What might I do for you?”

“Christopher is napping upstairs. I thought I might go to the stables and say hello to Starshine,” he explains, “Would you mind keeping an ear out for him while I go? I won’t be gone long.”

“Surely I will,” she says and pats him on the arm as she makes her way inside.

—

Starshine is just as beautiful as the last time he saw her. He takes his time stroking her cheeks and neck, cooing to her. He finds a brush sitting along the top of her stall and takes a few minutes to brush out her mane.

“I hope Eddie will teach me to ride soon,” he tells her quietly.

Her ears flick and her tail swishes behind her.

When Buck leaves the stable, he decides to leave out the back, giving himself a longer walk through the pasture. He spends a moment watching the horses there chewing grass and the foals running back and forth in spurts. They’re truly beautiful creatures. 

Buck meanders through the pasture back towards the house, a smile on his face and some of the exhaustion leaving him.

Eddie was right. All he had needed was a restful day. He already feels better.

He passes through a large gate, big enough for a wagon, and across the yard to the porch. Taking one last long look over the pasture and the horses roaming there, he lets out a deep breath and heads back inside.

—

Buck is hard at work in the kitchen preparing dinner. He’s got oven-fried chicken cooking and is putting the finishing touches on a baked corn pudding. He slides it into the oven beside the chicken and upon standing back up, he thinks he hears a shout.

He listens, but doesn’t hear anything else. 

He slices apples, adding them to a skillet with butter, sugar, and cinnamon. Christopher had asked him for fried apples for dessert. So fried apples he will receive.

Buck is humming a song to himself, stirring, when he hears shouting once more. This time there are multiple voices.

Alarmed, he removes the pan from the stovetop and goes to the front door. 

Walking out onto the front porch, the commotion and its cause become evident. It’s pure chaos. Horses run rampant around the front yard and down the narrow lane, ranch hands run after them swinging lassos, trying to throw them over the horse’s necks. The hands yell to one another, trying to coordinate capturing the loose animals.

Buck is bewildered at the sight before him. A group of foals run by on knobby legs, whinnying. Mares chew the grass here and there in the yard. Studs are running rampant, trying to flee the ranch hands.

One cowboy on horseback has managed to lasso a bronco around the neck and Buck watches as the animal wildly bucks and kicks. 

As Buck steps out onto the grass, he sees a large stud running full speed, coming closer by the second. To his dawning horror, when he looks at the horse’s path, he sees Christopher standing in its way.

He runs. He runs faster and harder than he’s ever run in his life, legs pumping and breath going shallow in panic. He manages to scoop Christopher up, tumbling backwards just in time for the stud to barrel by in front of them. Buck stands up, Chris in his arms, and makes his way to sit on the porch, out of the way of danger.

Buck’s breath continues to come shallowly, adrenaline pumping through him still. Christopher had cried out when he was grabbed and Buck goes to check him over for an injury.

The boy is fine. Thankfully, blessedly fine. Not a scratch on him, though the same cannot be said for his crutches. When Buck looks for them, they lie snapped into pieces on the ground.

“You saved me, Buck,” he says, eyes wide.

Buck starts to ask when the boy left the sitting room where he’d been playing with his toys while Buck made dinner. Before Buck can question him, he hears a new voice yelling.

“Christopher! Christopher!” Eddie is running to them, clearly having seen what took place and the danger his son had been in.

“Thank god you’re ok, Chris. I was so worried when I couldn’t find you,” Eddie says, kneeling down in front of the boy.

“Buck saved me, Pa,” Christopher tells him, moving from Buck’s lap to Eddie’s open arms.

“Did he?” Eddie asks. His face is strangely flat when he looks at Buck. He can’t decipher what emotion is causing it, but it doesn’t look like happiness. Not at all.

Eddie stands, holding Chris, and walks to the front door where Hen is waiting. 

“Take him inside please,” Eddie tells her, transferring Chris to her arms, “Feed him dinner. I need to have a word with my husband.”

Buck is confused. He should be the one feeding Chris. He doesn’t understand what’s going on here.

Eddie turns, face out toward the pasture.

“The horses got out through the wagon gate,” he says, not looking at Buck, “The stable hand tells me you were the last one to go through it.”

Something sours and sinks in Buck’s gut. Eddie always looks at him when they speak and his voice is always warm. None of that is happening right now. It makes Buck nervous.

“I- If I left it open, I didn’t mean-”

“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean to, Buck. You did it. It happened. Your carelessness could've cost the ranch mightily. One horse with a broken leg and, hell, it would have been a death sentence! Some of those horses we don’t even own, they’re only here for training. You could have gotten someone trampled to death!” As Eddie speaks, his voice gets louder and louder until he’s spitting the words.

He finally looks at Buck and his eyes are full of anger and disappointment.

“It- It was an accident,” Buck struggles to say.

“That much is clear,” Eddie scoffs, “But it was an accident I’m not sure would have happened if you had listened to me or Hen.”

“I don’t- About what?” he asks. He feels overwhelmed with anxiety. He can feel emotions bubbling up within him, can feel the tightness in his throat, the curdling in his stomach. The same feeling from when his father would lecture him for his stupidity. He hates it and the shame it brings.

“Your father told me that you knew how to run a household,” Eddie says, kicking the toe of his boot into the ground and looking down.

“I do,” Buck says, feeling desperate to disperse the anger Eddie is clearly feeling, “I do know how.”

Eddie’s face goes stony.

“It seems to me that the only thing you know is how to run yourself into the ground,” Eddie shakes his head, “You’ve run yourself so ragged, doing every chore every day and refusing help or rest or to see any sense. To the point where your head’s in the damn clouds and you forgot to latch a gate closed, nearly getting my son killed!”

Buck feels ashamed, but nods his agreement with Eddie’s assessment all the same. Tears spring into his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. He feels so guilty. There’s truth in Eddie’s words. He’d been so wrapped up in proving he could do it all that he’d made stupid mistakes in his state of exhaustion. He’d put Chris’s life at risk unnecessarily. The precious child could have died all because Buck was too proud and wanted to prove his worth. He truly is a ridiculous city boy.

“I’m sorry, truly,” he mumbles, knowing it’s an inadequate apology.

They’re still for several minutes. Neither saying a word. 

“I’m sorry I got so angry with you,” Eddie says finally, coming to sit next to Buck on the porch step, “And I’m sorry I yelled. I only feel this could have been avoided.”

Eddie sighs deeply, running a hand around his mouth, “ I’m upset with you. I know you’ve got more smarts than that, how capable you are. I just don’t understand why you have done this to yourself. Why you won’t let Hen pitch in or take a break once in a while. Every chore doesn’t have to be done every single day.”

“I only wanted to prove I could do the hard work,” Buck mumbles, “No one ever believes that I can and I didn’t want you to feel you have wasted your money on me.”

Eddie scratches at his jaw, at the scruff coming in there, “Then I guess I’m also mad at your father.”

“Why?” Buck asks, feeling lost.

“Well fuck, Buck. Clearly you weren’t taught to value what you can do and not listen to the opinions of others,” He looks up to the heavens for a moment, shaking his head, like he’s trying to collect his thoughts, “And it’s clear to me now you weren’t taught how to run a farmhouse and all it entails. You were probably taught about fancy city houses with staff.”

“Farm living can be hard for those who are new to it. That’s why we’ve got so many hands here. Everyone pitches in,” Eddie sighs again, worn out from the day and high emotions, “I wish your father had been honest about you. Not only was his advert misleading, so was what he said to me when we met. If I had known, I would have taken the time to talk you through it more. Make sure you understood you aren’t on your own.”

Buck squints, “Wait, what are you talking about? What advert?”

Eddie looks confused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes on Buck. Then the confusion melts away and the expression that takes its place is so gentle it worries Buck.

“You didn’t know?” Eddie asks, whispering.

Buck shakes his head, heart racing, “What advert?”

Eddie slides closer, like Buck will need his steadfastness. He casts a long look at Buck, before staring off into the pasture again. The sun has begun to set and the sky is lit up like a fire in red into orange into hazy yellow over the green of the land. It looks like a painting.

“Matrimony– Immediate Action Required– Hand of high standing carrier offered. Educated, trained, skilled for any home. Fair price,” Eddie says as if reading off a newspaper, “That’s what it said in the paper classifieds.”

Buck feels like he’s going to be sick. There was always going to be a transaction for him. Money was always going to change hands when he married, yes. It was understood.

But to be sold as mere chattel? As an item only worth a fair price? 

He had always thought that even though his parents didn’t like him much, even though they found him lacking, at the very least he would be able to provide them with something they actually wanted for his raising. A bride price. And he believed he would be worth something one day to a husband.

Fair price implied something else altogether.

“Phillip,” Eddie clears his throat, “You father, he was a desperate man in dire times. And I can’t lie, I was much the same.”

He repositions himself closer while Buck feels bile rising in his throat. Eddie bought him because he was desperate ?

“I went to Pennsylvania, partly on business, but partly because I was running a bit from my parents,” Eddie explains, “My Ma feels awful strongly about Christopher being raised without a mother and me being gone much of each day makes it worse. She and Pa made their intention clear to find me a suitable wife to manage both my son and my house.”

Buck feels a numbness overtake him. He no longer knows what he feels.

“My parents are of the belief that Christopher should be treated gently, more gently than he really needs and the woman they wanted me to marry felt the same,” Eddie scoffs, “She felt he should not be walking about on  his own and even felt he shouldn’t be allowed to attend school. I simply couldn’t have that.”

“Your father assured me you could run a house, yes, but he also told me of how… soft you are. How sensitive. He said you understood your station and wouldn’t ever try to assert your wishes for Christopher over my own. Which was exactly what I was looking for and the marriage would stop my parents meddling.”

Buck's mind spins. He hadn’t provided his parents with any fortune. He’d only been purchased because his father was desperate to get rid of him and Eddie was desperate to get his parents off his back. 

Eddie hadn’t wanted to marry. He hadn’t been looking for a partner or someone to build a life with. He’d been backed into a corner of his own and Buck was simply the answer.

He’d never truly been wanted by his parents and if Eddie had the choice, he wouldn’t have wanted Buck either.

Buck was simply a commodity. A solution. And not a prized one at that. One that came cheap.

He’d never needed to prove himself, because that never mattered. If he’d understood that, he never would have worked himself to exhaustion and caused this mess.

Eddie takes his hand in an almost comforting gesture. Perhaps he can read the thoughts rolling across Buck’s face. Any other time before now, Buck would have welcomed the touch gladly with squeezes and knuckle stroking. Now though, he allows Eddie to grip his unmoving limp hand.

“The other reason I married you though,” Eddie says, “Is I could sense something special in you.”

Buck tiredly asks, “And what is that?”

Eddie gives  him a grin, “Your sense of adventure and the clear boredom filling you just sitting in that fancy house.”

Buck’s heart picks up at the sound of that. Even with all the gloom filling his head, he’s glad Eddie was able to see that within him.

“There’s a lot of adverts, you know. A lot for marriage. I’d mosey through them just to see. There’s a lot I could have answered, but I’m mighty glad I chose yours.”

Buck feels a heat fill his cheeks. Maybe he shouldn’t find that sweet, but he can’t stop himself. 

“I was never under the impression that you didn’t know. That’s why I asked if your hand was being forced,” Eddie says, “You seemed so sure of yourself. Of me. So assertive that you were choosing me. To marry me. If I’d known you’d been left in the dark, I certainly would’ve told you.”

It may not make anything better right now, but Buck believes him. He trusts Eddie.

“I know,” he says, finally gripping Eddie’s hand back and giving it a good squeeze.

Eddie’s eyes dart between his own, fixing there and not glancing away.

“Forgive me?” he asks Buck, “For being angry? For yelling?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Eddie,” Buck answers, brows drawn, “I’m only sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

They go inside after that, bidding Hen goodnight as she leaves, thanking her for feeding Christopher and getting him into bed. Eddie eats his dinner, while Buck nibbles at his, stomach still upset.

While Eddie goes up to ready for bed, Buck cleans up the kitchen. He isn’t as meticulous as usual, simply wiping up and putting things away. He doesn’t linger or look for extra tasks. 

He goes upstairs, checking in on Christopher to find him sleeping soundly, and after dropping a kiss to the boy’s head, he makes his way to his room, shutting the door behind him.

There haven’t been any nights since Buck arrived at the ranch that he’s felt like this. He often felt the need to cry at home, suffering from the inattention and judgement from his parents or feeling lonely and unwanted after Maddie left. But not here. Not yet.

He crawls into bed after changing, immediately turning down his gas lamp. Laying there in the dark, the feelings from the day hit him unexpectedly hard.

Insecurity. Worthlessness. Frustration. Those are the largest feelings of the bunch.

He tries not to dwell on his failings, tries not to think on how lacking he is. He tries to force away the thoughts on how the ranch has looked upon him and found him wanting.

Tonight he feels it all, deep down into his soul. The voice in his head won’t be quieted. The one pointing out each and every flaw. The one taunting him about how his husband must look upon him and see his ineptitude and only feel regret.

Eddie made a bad investment when he chose Buck. Perhaps that’s the reason Eddie has yet to revisit their marriage bed? Why he insisted on separate rooms? Why he has been stingy with his kisses and touches? 

Try as he might, Buck can’t fight the feelings drowning him.

He curls on his side, burrows his face into his pillow, pulling his quilt over his head and cries.

Cries like he did as a child when his parents ignored him and he had to go to Maddie for comfort.

Chapter Text

Buck is surprised the next morning. 

When he opens his eyes to rays of sunlight, he finds Christopher sitting at the edge of his bed, mouth in a deep frown.

“Christopher?” he asks, sitting up.

Chris looks up, eyes full of tears, “You’re not leaving are you, Buck?”

“Oh Chris, no, of course I’m not,” Buck says.

Christopher collapses into his arms.

“Promise?” he asks into Buck’s chest.

“I promise,” Buck says into his curls, holding him close, “Why do you ask?”

“I heard Pa yell at you when Miss Hen gave me dinner,” he says, looking up from Buck’s chest, “He sounded awful mean.”

Buck cups his cheek, “Oh sweetheart, he only yelled for a moment and only because he was scared you were almost hurt yesterday. Sometimes adults have to have words with one another and hash things out. That’s all.”

Chris sits up, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

“I was scared you might not like it here anymore and I didn’t want you to go away. I’d miss you an awful lot,” he says, eyes big and sincere, “I love you, Buck.”

Buck’s eyes fill with tears. No one other than Maddie has ever said that to him before. A warmth like he’s never felt runs through him. He’d only known this boy a few weeks but he knew the bond they had would be everlasting.

“And I love you, Christopher,” he says and pulls the boy into another warm hug.

They snuggle there for a moment before Buck hears a creak. When he looks past Christopher’s shoulder, he sees Eddie peeking his head through the adjoining door. It’s clear from his worried brow he heard the conversation they’d been having.

“Everything alright in here?” he asks, finally entering the room.

“Are you still mad at Buck, Pa?” Chris asks, sitting up.

“No,” he answers his son honestly, “I’m not sore at him and I shouldn’t have raised my voice yesterday. I hope he’s not sore at me neither. I’d like to think we patched things up.”

Buck looks up and finds Eddie already staring at him. His eyes are guilty and apologetic. Buck feels a lot better this morning after his breakdown.The release of emotion helped immensely and he finds his understanding of the situation to feel a bit lighter than yesterday. Not so dire and depressing.

Even in the face of everything he learned yesterday, when he remembers the kindness Eddie has shown him, the small freedoms he’s been afforded, and the difference between his treatment here and at home, it’s easy to let go of the struggles he’d drowned in last night. He can set aside the things he’d seen as blights upon his character and move forward. Those things don’t need to define him here, in this place.

He wants to be good to Christopher and Eddie, despite the reasons they came together. He still wants to do his best to make this life, this marriage , into something good. If he were a betting man, he'd say Eddie wanted the same.

“No, I’m not upset with him,” Buck says with a smile.

“Good,” the boy says, giving them each a smile and hopping off the bed on his crutches, “Now, no more yelling and tell me, when’s breakfast?”

Buck and Eddie laugh.

“I’ll rustle you up something while Buck gets around,” Eddie says, guiding Chris through the door. He throws Buck a grateful grin before closing it behind them.

Things truly do feel better than the night before. Buck is more well rested than he’s been in weeks and knowing he’s got the love of that wonderful child makes his heart swell.

Things are going to be different from now on. He’s going to give himself a break and accept help. No more pride and nonsense, he decides, only being good and seeing where that leads.

He gets up, renewed, and gets ready for his day. 

—

His twenty-fifth birthday dawns without fanfare.

That was normal. He was used to it.

Back in Hershey, his parents never acknowledged the day. His father would take his mother to a resort spa, buying her lavish treatments and meals. The two would spend several days in luxury, to return without any mention of the passing of Buck’s birthday.

He always spent his birthday with Maddie. She would instruct the staff to prepare his favorite meal and invite friends over for dinner and drinks. They would all dress in finery, staying up late into the night. Often they would play cards and have a boisterously good time without the judgement of their parents.

This year things will be far different.

When he wakes, it’s dreary and raining. In the next room, he can hear Eddie getting dressed, the rustling of clothes easy to pick out in the quiet of the morning.

He rises from bed, dressing quietly, and washes up in the bathroom, before heading downstairs.

“Mornin’,” Eddie chirups. He stands at the counter, mug in hand, a newspaper in the other. He doesn’t take his eyes from his reading.

“I’m going into town today,” he tells Buck, taking a long drink.

“Mm, it’s raining out. Take a jacket,” Buck says, pouring his own drink.

“I will,” Eddie says, setting his mug in the sink and rolling up the newspaper, “I’ll be back for supper.”

He kisses Buck on the jaw and gives his hip a pat before heading out. While Buck stands at the sink, washing the mug Eddie used, he sees him make his way to the cart, pull himself in, and leave.

—

Buck and Christopher have just finished setting the table when Eddie returns. They hear the cart pull up and Chris takes off to the front door, eager to greet his father.

Eddie walks in, chatting happily with Chris, packages under his arm. He’d removed his muddy boots on the porch and Buck is happy to see it, glad he won’t have to scrub the floors a second time.

“Hello,” he calls to Buck when he comes into the dining room. He sets the packages on the sideboard before running a hand through Christopher’s hair.

“How was your day?” he asks, giving Buck that soft grin.

“Fine,” Buck answers, “Christopher helped with dinner.”

He smiles shyly at his husband. He’d cooked all afternoon making his favorite meal. A beef roast with buttery scalloped potatoes, roasted carrots and parsnips, and a thick gravy. He’d also made big fluffy rolls, stewed apples, and a fine decadent cake. He was quite proud of himself.

“It’s ready if you’re hungry,” he says. 

Eddie beams at him, “I’m absolutely famished.”

—

As soon as they’ve finished dinner, sitting their utensils in their plates, Eddie says, “I’ve gotten you something.”

He stands, picking up the packages still on the sideboard. He walks them to Buck, setting the three of them on the table in front of him. Buck is so surprised he stares at them for a long moment.

Eddie nudges his arm, “They won’t bite.”

Inside the first package, Buck finds a collection of different types of tea, each sitting in their own tin in different colors with hand-painted flowers decorating them. He reads each one finding Darjeeling, Ceylon, Jasmine, and Assam. 

“Oh, they have these in El Paso?” he asks, surprised. The kitchen here had only held an old tin of English Breakfast.

“I might have ordered them,” Eddie says, clearing his throat, “Special ordered.”

When Buck looks at him, he finds the tips of the man’s ears have gone pink and he’s wearing a sweet grin. Buck gives him a thankful smile in return.

“Open the next one, Buck” Chris pipes up with excitement. Eddie takes the tins, holding them out of the way.

Buck picks up the squarest of the remaining two packages. Beneath the brown parcel paper wrapping are three books. Two Jane Austen novels Buck didn’t own and The Call of the Wild.

“Thank you,” he says, turning the books over in his hands in wonder.

“I know you’re quite fond of reading,” Eddie says, eyes glittering, “And you picked up my Ma’s old Austen novel, right quick.”

“So I did,” Buck replies.

“I also noticed you have many adventure novels,” he says, “Have you read Jack London before?”

Buck shakes his head. He’d read about adventurers since boyhood. He dreamed of visiting far-off lands and becoming a mountain man, or pirate, or some other kind of risk-taker. Of having a new life full of freedom.

Eddie takes the books from his hands, scooching the last parcel closer.

The final package is much more flat than the others and smaller. Inside, Buck finds a sturdy pair of gardening gloves.

“Oh,” he says, a wide smile coming over his face. He slips the gloves on and finds they’re a perfect fit.

Eddie’s grin is wide and pleased, “I’ve noticed you scrubbing at your fingernails after your garden work. I thought these might help.”

He’s right. Buck loves working in the garden, but the mess that gets trapped under his nails and cuticles drives him mad. These will do nicely.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, “Thank you for everything.”

He knows the likely reason Eddie has given him these things, but he finds himself wanting to be sure, hopeful he’s right.

“And what is the occasion for these gifts?” he asks, looking at Eddie.

“Buck…” Eddie sighs, then chuckles, “Did you think I’d forgotten your birthday?”

Buck flushes and rolls his eyes. He hadn’t wanted to assume, especially when Eddie had said nothing of it and left for the day. He’d been mostly sure Eddie didn’t know when his birthday was at all.

Eddie frowns then, when Buck explains and says, “You weren’t going to mention it?”

Buck shrugs, feeling sheepish. He hadn’t wanted to be a bother.

“Buck,” he says, sighing again, then standing and moving close. He raises a hand to the side of Buck’s head, rubbing a thumb at his birthmark, and raising Buck’s face to meet his eyes.

“Happy Birthday,” he says. Then he leans forward and kisses Buck’s birthmark, then his cheek, and finally a peck against his lips.

He steps away, Buck looks over at Christopher. The little boy is grinning from ear to ear. 

“Happy birthday, Buck!” he shouts. 

“Now,” Eddie says, clapping, “I believe you’ve baked yourself a birthday cake?”

Buck can’t stop smiling as he slices the cake and serves it, still smiling around his fork when he takes a bite. 

The gifts were truly lovely and more than he’d ever expected, but the kisses had been what he was grateful for most of all.

—

Buck has been making a list of winter crops for the kitchen garden. The ones they grew in Hershey are slightly different than the ones they grow here.

He tried to read books on it from the sitting room, but had grown bored of it quickly. He’d ended up making the trek to the Wilson’s to consult Hen.

“You’ll want to grow root vegetables,” she says, “Sweet potatoes, regular potatoes, carrots, onions.”

She’s busy tending her own kitchen garden, the hem of her skirt dragging through the dirt. It’s smaller than the one at the farmhouse. He’ll be sure to give her whatever extra crop he harvests.

“Greens too, lettuce, spinach, and cabbage. No matter how Christopher complains,” she chuckles and Buck joins her, amused at the wills of children, “It’s always good to grow some broccoli or cauliflower too.”

He has a fairly long list to pass to Eddie over dinner that evening.

“Not particular on what kind of greens?” Eddie asks, looking up at him.

Buck shakes his head, “No, just get whatever you think Chris will eat.”

Eddie sends him a fond grin, “Alright. I’m heading into El Paso tomorrow. Will you come with me?”

“Yes,” Buck says immediately. He hasn’t left the farm since he got here. It’s been over a month and he must admit, the thought of the long ride into town, pressed against Eddie in the cart, makes his stomach flutter.

—

As they come into town, down the single dirt road, Buck eagerly looks around. It’s truly not much of a town. There’s a small church, a few shops, a ferrier, a blacksmith, and the general store. Eddie tells him further down lies the Station house containing both the sheriff and small fire crew.

They pull up in front of the general store. The sign reads ‘Han’s General and Feed’.

“Head on into Han’s,” Eddie says, taking Buck’s hand to help him down from the cart, “I’ve got some business to settle, but I’ll be right back.”

Buck looks at the store. It’s quaint and small. He likes it immediately.

“Get your garden seeds and whatever you like,” Eddie says before heading off.

Buck loves shops like this. They’ve long been his favorite. He’d been fascinated as a boy by the bins full of beans, peanuts, and candy, all waiting to be scooped. 

He sees an asian gentleman standing behind the counter, perhaps a few years older than himself. He’s looking down reading a catalogue laying atop the counter. Buck remembers Albert Han, the stable hand at the ranch, saying his brother owned the general store.

He spies the stand full of garden seeds and starts to make his way over. He’s got several seed packets in hand when someone suddenly speaks behind him.

“Finding something you like today?” 

Buck turns quickly, heart leaping, to find the asian man standing right behind where he stood. He sees the man’s eyes catch on his birthmark. For a moment, Buck waits for the reaction he normally gets. The one where people try to hide their distaste and look firmly away.

He smiles widely at Buck instead.

“You must be Eddie’s husband,” he says.

“I am,” Buck says smiling as well, relieved, “And you must be Albert’s brother.”

Somehow the man’s grin gets wider, “Ah, you’ve met the lesser Han brother. I’m Howard, but I go by Chimney.”

He holds his hand out, shaking Buck’s when he takes it.

“You know,” he says leaning in, “I used to work on the Diaz Ranch myself. Had Albert’s job long before he did. I know Eddie well.”

“Really?” Buck asks, surprised.

Chimney nods, “I’ve heard about you and your… exploits out on the ranch.”

Buck groans, “It was only once and none of the horses were hurt. No people either, I swear it.”

Chimney laughs, “I’ll have you know, you’re talking to the only other person in town that’s made that very same mistake. Eddie’s father was like to tan my hide for it.”

Buck finds himself grinning at the man. It feels conspiratorial and like something just between them, an embarrassment only the two of them understand. He likes Chimney.

“I’ve got to say, that’s nice to know,” Buck tells him, truthfully.

Chimney gives him another grin, “I thought you might like to hear it. Eddie come to town with you?”

Buck nods.

“Good,” Chimney says, moving back toward the counter waving his hand in the air, “He’s got some debt to square with me. I’m sure he’s already told you, but get whatever you like.”

He gets behind the counter, opening a ledger and thumbing through it. He smiles up at Buck, eyes crinkling.

Buck finishes picking out his seeds and wanders around the shop. He finds himself in front of a display of pretty bar soaps. There’s a variety of green, yellow, and pink shades all with pleasant scents.

The yellow smells of honeysuckle and the pink of rose.

“I’ll have these as well,” he says to Chimney, walking over. He sees a lollipop stand atop the counter and grabs a red one, “And this too. For Christopher.”

Chimney nods and adds it all to the ledger.

—

When Eddie walks into the store some time later, he finds Buck and Chimney laughing loudly, Buck leaning on the counter and Chimney slapping a hand against the counter top.

“I guess everything’s alright here,” he says, looking between the two.

“Oh certainly,” Chimney says through chuckles, “I was just amusing your husband here with stories of your youth.”

“Ah, nothing untoward, I hope,” Eddie says, grinning at the man.

“Just the time you got kicked in the rear by a mule and limped for a week,” Chimney tells him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Lord have mercy,” Eddie says, running a hand over his face.

Chimney opens his ledger, “You husband here has picked out a fair few things.”

“My husband has run up my bill?” he asks, cutting his fond eyes to Buck.

“He has,” Chimney confirms, sliding the ledger into Eddie’s view.

Eddie smiles, tisking his teeth, “I’ve restocked the grain silo. I’ll arrange to have some of it brought here.”

He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket, handing it over. Chimney reads it and nods, “That’ll cover it.”

Eddie shakes Chimney’s hand. 

“I’ve got the cart out front,” Eddie says.

“Alright, I’ve got the rest of your order in the back. Come help me load it up,” Chimney tells him.

The three of them load the horse feed up in no time. Buck tries not to react to Chimney’s surprise when he helps out, carrying twice as much as the general store owner does.

When they’re done, Buck notices Eddie’s cheeks are red from exertion. He finds himself wondering what it’d feel like if he pressed his lips to the skin. If it would be warm against his mouth.

“Glad you got to see the town?” Eddie asks as they ride back.

“I am,” Buck replies, “ and glad to meet Chimney.”

“Shame you didn’t get to meet everyone, but there’s time yet.”

Buck nods. He can’t wait to meet all the people Eddie knows. Hopefully they’ll be as friendly as Chimney.

—

When November rolls around, Buck has settled into a routine. 

Eddie rises first, Buck does shortly after him. When he pokes his head into Buck’s room, he greets him before they head down together. Eddie starts the fire in the kitchen stove while Buck begins breakfast.

They eat around the kitchen table after Buck wakes Christopher.

They all part ways at the front door, Christopher pressing a kiss to Buck’s cheek and giving his father a hug. After they’ve seen the boy off to school, Buck will press an apple into Eddie’s hand, while Eddie presses his own kiss into Buck’s cheek, and they say goodbye for the day.

After cleaning up breakfast, Buck starts his chores. He’s made a weekly list, spreading out each one over the week, no longer overwhelming himself each day.

Buck wonders if he should find it monotonous or boring, but he doesn’t. He’s pleased to complete each chore. Each one its own small accomplishment. 

If he’s lucky, sometimes Eddie returns for lunch before heading back out. Buck doesn’t fully understand what he’s doing each day, but it seems to change frequently.

Buck’s favorite days are the least frequent. They’re the ones where Eddie doesn’t leave at all. He’ll be in the sitting room, pouring over accounts or writing letters. Sometimes he’ll join Buck in the kitchen, keeping him company while he washes pots and pans or clothes. He’ll catch Eddie looking at him now and again with a smile on his face.

It’s domestic and peaceful and fills Buck with warmth.

—

One November morning, Eddie stops Buck in the kitchen with a hand on his arm.

“We haven’t discussed this yet, but I’m going to need you to make a bigger lunch today,” Eddie says.

“I beg your pardon?” Buck asks, entirely confused.

“I was waiting for you to get your bearings around here, and you have, wonderfully,” he explains, “So now it’s time to tell you about another responsibility of being the rancher’s spouse.”

Buck nods. He doesn’t know what it is, but he will absolutely do it to the best of his ability.

“It’s the rancher’s spouse’s job to help feed the ranch hands,” he says, “They’re mostly fine on their own for breakfast and dinner, but we must provide lunch.”

Ah, this was one of the things Eddie had been talking about when he said everyone on the farm pitches in.

“Hen’s been taking it on, but she’s got other chores. She helps Karen with the horse training and feeding. She also makes our butter and lard. So now that you’ve got yourself squared away, it’s time to take the job back.”

Buck nods again, “Absolutely. I can do it.”

“You can start tomorrow, to give you time to prepare,” Eddie says, trying to offer him some leeway.

Buck thinks on it for a moment. He just harvested vegetables yesterday and the hens have been laying quite frequently. They’re over stocked on pickles in the cellar too and he had a surplus of bread loaves already made.

“No,” he says, “I’m more than prepared. I can start today.”

“You’re a peach,” Eddie says and gives his cheek a kiss on the way out.

—

Buck watches in absolute horror as the ranch hands demolish the lunch he’d prepared. The pile of pork chops he’d been sure were too numerous are devoured post haste. The six jars of pickled vegetables, the platter of fried potatoes, the bowls full of green beans, coleslaw, mashed parsnips, and fried eggs, three entire loaves of bread; almost all gone in the blink of an eye.

My god, he thinks, they’re ravenous like wild animals.

Eddie catches his eye at one point, grinning wide and shrugging.

Hen comes into the kitchen after the free-for-all ends, watching Buck pick over what’s left. She’s got a bucket full of peas to shuck.

She smiles knowingly at  him, “I heard you held your own with that gaggle of wild men.”

“Just barely,” he confesses.

They sit together, laughing over the ranch hands, while shucking peas. Hen reminds him of Maddie in some ways. She’s always been kind to him, helping him learn the ropes more than anyone else. Just like Maddie.

He misses his sister something awful. He knows he could write to her, reach out, but he doesn’t want to be a bother. She’s almost as newly married as he is. Perhaps she’s finding her own way too. Needing time and settling in just like Buck.

“Those boys sure can put it away, huh?” Hen says, pinching another pea pod open and dumping them into a bowl.

“I hardly had anything to feed myself with when they were done,” Buck grumbles.

“I’ll teach you the trick,” she says conspiratorially, “Feed yourself first. Eat your fill before they arrive. Then you get to stand back serving, making sure they’re fed.” she gives Buck a wink and smirks, “Men like when we do that.”

Buck laughs loud and boisterous. Hen is so very smart.

The next day, he does exactly as she said. He cooks the meal and prepares all the dishes. Loading a plate for himself, he sets the rest on the dining table. He eats his meal quickly, standing over the sink, scrubbing the plate and utensil when he’s done.

When the men enter the kitchen, he’s prim and proper, ready to receive them.

“How do you do?” Ravi asks, removing his boots by the door. The thoughtfulness makes Buck’s heart glow with warmth. Ravi has laid off his underhanded comments and they’ve managed to settle into a sort of civil acquaintanceship.

“Good, and you?” he answers.

“Alright,” Ravi says, washing up in the sink, before making his way into the dining room with the others.

Oddly, they all just sit and stare at the food, not touching any.

Buck fixes a curious gaze on the lot, “Well go on, have your lunch.”

Albert’s stomach growls and he looks sheepish, “We’re waiting on Eddie.”

Buck watches as his eyes flit over the platters on the table.

“Will he be long?”

Albert shakes his head, “He went to gather a couple of others from the field with the herd. Said for us to go ahead.”

Buck smiles nodding. He walks to the table, leaning down and grabbing a large slice of fresh bread still steaming a bit with heat.

“I won’t tell, if you won’t,” he says, handing the slice to Albert.

Albert takes it gratefully, “Gosh, thanks a ton, Mr. Diaz.”

He and Albert share a look and a smile before the man starts shoving the bread into his mouth. Buck steps back and watches as the others take a small piece of food of their own. All of them sending him a secret grin.

—

That night Eddie tells him “You did good” when they’re in the sitting room, Christopher already in bed for the night. They sit side by side on the couch. They moved it into the room when they realized the three of them had nowhere to sit together when Chris wanted Buck on one side and Eddie on the other while he read to them. The velvet yellow chairs live in the parlor now.

Buck hums, barely looking up from his book. He’s been reading Sense and Sensibility. The romance makes him long for some of his own. He’s just not sure how to make that happen.

Eddie’s arm is stretched across the back of the couch. His fingertips just barely brush against Buck’s shoulder. He’s been trying to ignore it, the heat of Eddie’s faint touch through his shirt.

“The lunch today, the boys really appreciated it,” Eddie says. 

“I’m glad,” Buck says, keeping his eye on the book. He’s not reading, hasn’t been for a little while. Too distracted by the closeness of Eddie, by the almost touch to his shoulder. He’s been rereading the same sentence over and over. Mind unable to cling to the words.

Out of the corner of his eye, Buck can see Eddie looking at him intensely. He’s surprised a moment later when he feels fingers running along his jaw and slowly down the side of his neck.

His heart is set racing and he feels heat surge into the tips of his ears. Eddie slides his finger tips off and back to the couch.

“I greatly appreciate your efforts,” he says.

Buck swallows heavily, “All in a day’s work.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Yes it is.”

Then he returns his attention to his own book, a grin curling the corners of his mouth. Buck spends ten minutes, fifteen, staring at the same page of his book, unable to continue reading, wishing with everything he has that Eddie would touch him again.

His body has gone taught like a bowstring, while he can see Eddie slouched into the couch beside him. He watches the man’s fingers trace the book edge as he reads, a few strands of hair have fallen onto his forehead. Buck feels like if he were touched just right, he might shoot off through the window.

He finds himself unable to continue in the tenseness of the room and snaps his book closed, startling Eddie.

“I’m going to bed,” he announces, standing.

“Alright,” Eddie says, confusion on his face.

“It’s been a long day,” he offers, “I’m tired.”

Eddie nods, “Sleep well, then.”

Buck feels a slight annoyance gather within him and says, “You too.”

He departs as quickly as he can. Trying to dismiss his own frustration at Eddie’s ignorance of what he was truly asking. 

He lays in bed, replaying the events from the sitting room. His fingers trace the path Eddie’s took from his jaw and down his neck. His body feels warm at the memory, something stirring in his gut. He’s unsurprised when his cock pulses. As Eddie has begun slowly touching and kissing him again, it’s been happening frequently at night when he’s alone and replaying the memory of each in his mind.

He palms himself, pushing his cock flat between his stomach and hand, his thin pajamas offering little resistance. He feels hot and sensitive, skin becoming clammy and nipples tightening under his clothing. He thumbs at them, biting his lip to hold back the sound that wants to escape him.

He gets frustrated at the barrier and slowly eases his nightshirt up until it’s gathered above his chest. Reaching back down, he leaves one hand to his chest and wraps the other around his length, stroking and thumbing at the head. The feeling of the quilt dragging across his cock sends a shiver down his spine.

His thighs clench and he’s surprised when he feels a wetness between them at his opening. Carriers can make their own lubrication, just as women do, but he’s never made much on his own.

He lets his hand wander down, finding his hole. He’s wetter than he expects it to be, wetter than he’s ever been before when he’s done this alone at night. He rubs his fingers around and around for a minute before pushing one inside.

He rubs around inside, hoping to find the spot to make it feel the same as when Eddie did it. The same spot he’d assaulted on their wedding night that made him ache and cry out. He struggles, unable to find it even when he pushes deeper.

Through the wall, he hears Eddie enter his own room. He stills, a thrill running through him at the thought of his husband finding him this way. At the thought of what it might lead to. He flushes, ears listening for any sign Eddie might peek through the door.

He only hears the rustling of Eddie’s clothes as he removes them, no footsteps move toward their shared door. That brings the image of Eddie to mind, golden and broad, leaning over him on their wedding night. He throbs at the memory.

He strokes himself, removing his finger from his opening and bringing that hand up to push his nightshirt into his mouth. Then down to thumb at his nipples again. 

He remembers the way Eddie cursed and groaned over him, the feel of his movement within. He can almost hear the groaned “Fuck” his husband uttered. He tips over suddenly, spilling onto his stomach, and only letting a small sound out. Breathing hard, he settles, still listening in case anyone heard his utterance.

He becomes painfully aware of what he’s done. That he’s touched himself to completion just a room over from his husband, a single door separating them. Perhaps he should be embarrassed, but he finds the feeling missing.

He cleans himself up and rolls onto his side feeling tired. 

He falls asleep wondering when his husband will be willing to lay with him again.

—

Hen comes over one day, finding Buck rinsing vegetables from the garden.

“Your garden is looking nice,” She says, coming to stand beside him.

“Thank you,” he says, giving her a grin.

“You’ll keep everyone well-fed this winter,” she says, starting to scrub dirt off the produce, handing them over for Buck to rinse.

“You and Eddie have been married for, say, a bit over three  months now?” she asks once they’re done.

“Sure have,” he answers, moving to pour them each a cup of tea.

“And he’s treating you right?” she asks further.

Buck gives her a curious look, “Yes, he is.”

He’s still learning about Eddie just yet, but he’s been kind and gentle. He treats Buck with fairness. That’s more than enough to be happy with.

“Eddie’s a kind man,” she muses, “Kinder than most.”

Buck hums, thoughtful, “How did you and Karen end up here on the ranch?”

She smiles, “My parents worked here. So I grew up on the ranch. The year I turned twenty-one, we went all the way to Albuquerque to a rodeo. Karen was showing off her horse training there. She swept me right off my feet the same day we met.”

Buck is filled by a wave of emotion. He knows it’s wrong, but he envies them. Their marriage was for love. What a truly precious thing to possess.

“I took a chance and stayed with her in New Mexico when my family returned to the ranch. We married a while later and when my father got sick, I wanted to come back to the ranch,” she explains, “Eddie was kind enough to extend her a job offer. So we moved back, adopted our children a while after that, and the rest is history.”

Buck hums thinking it over.

“Speaking of children,” she says, giving him a meaningful look, “Are you and Eddie trying hard for one of your own?”

Buck sputters, “We- I-” He's unable to finish his sentence. The line of conversation would have been incredibly inappropriate back in Hershey.  

She laughs, “Alright, alright. You don’t have to tell me. I just wondered. Lord knows Eddie was always a flirt. Always had a girl chasing after him.”

Buck flushes, first at the implication about them and then at the rush of jealousy he feels. He finds he’s quite a bit jealous at the thought of Eddie’s probable hoards of admirers, but also that he was allowed to have them. He was allowed to flirt and chase and, hell, even fuck who he wanted.

Buck couldn't imagine ever having the freedom to do that.

“Obviously he’s past that now. Has been for a long time, after Christopher’s mama and all,” Hen says, ducking her head, “But I’ve also never seen him act so smitten with someone before you.”

Buck’s not so sure about that. He looks away from her, trying not to let her see the disbelief on his face.

“Be kind to him, won’t you?” she asks Buck, “He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and he’s got a tender heart under that rough exterior.”

Buck ignores the lump in his throat and the rising hope in his chest. 

He nods, “I will.”

—

In late November, El Paso is much warmer in winter than Hershey, but it can still have quite a chill. They won’t see the coldest temperatures for another month, but at night it gets colder and colder.

Buck’s always been sensitive to the cold, no matter the temperature.

There are fireplaces in most rooms on the ranch, including Buck’s. Eddie starts building a fire in it each night before Buck goes to sleep. By morning, Buck’s room feels awfully cold because it’s gone out in the night. His skin prickles with goosebumps and his nose is cold.

Buck suffers through it over a week, until finally he has a sudden revelation.

He has a husband next door. A husband with warm hands, who radiates heat when they sit beside each other on the couch every evening. A husband who’s infinitely kind and gentle and worries about him being warm. A husband who likely wouldn’t turn Buck away if he tried to climb into bed with him for the sake of warmth. 

It’s also the perfect excuse to work his way into Eddie’s bed. Buck’s been struggling all month to find a reason to be nearer to the man.

He waits until he thinks Eddie is sleeping before slipping out of bed. It’s quiet in Eddie’s room, no rustling or movement. 

The door between their rooms doesn’t make a sound as Buck opens it.

He sneaks his way in silently, making no noise as he crosses the room to the bed.

He stops when he sees Eddie, flat on his back, chest bare and blankets pushed down to his hips. Buck is wrapped in a long nightshirt, silk dressing gown, and socks.

Clearly Eddie doesn’t feel the cold the same way Buck does. Looking to Eddie’s fireplace, he sees he’d made a much smaller fire for himself than the one he makes for Buck. And maybe that’s proof enough for Buck that Eddie wants him to be as warm as possible. Proof that Eddie won’t mind if he slides into bed with him to share body heat. He would likely prefer Buck to do it, he reasons. Instead of being cold and covered in goose pimples in his own room.

He pulls off his dressing gown, draping it over the end of the bed, before lifting the covers and crawling slowly into bed beside Eddie.

As he feels the warmth already radiating from the man beneath the blankets, he slips himself closer and closer. He pushes himself, back first, as close as possible to Eddie without touching, hitching the blankets higher up to his shoulders. He settles on his side, facing away from his husband.

His eyes slip closed in the blessed warmth, contentment filling him as he settles. 

And then he feels movement.

He scrunches his eyes shut, hoping no questions will be asked. 

“What’s this here?” Eddie asks, voice low and rough, “Has my husband come to call on me in the middle of the night?”

He can hear the amusement in Eddie’s voice.

“Shhh,” he says, ignoring the question, “I’m sleeping and it’s warm here.”

Eddie shifts, edging closer to him, “Not warm enough in your room?”

“It’s warmer here,” Buck says, worried he’ll make him leave, “But I can go if I’m bothering your rest.”

“You’re not bothering me in the slightest,” Eddie says, coming closer still, “I’m just surprised you decided to join me.”

“I could join Chris instead?” Buck asks, peeking an eye open.

Eddie is leaning over him, watching his face with an amused expression.

“No, no,” he says grinning, “I think you ought to give me a chance first.”

Buck watches as Eddie’s eyes slide over his face and down his body. It makes him feel scandalous, naked despite his nightclothes and blanket. It’s exactly the kind of thing he’s been hoping for.

“Luckily for you, I’m not interested in walking around in the cold again tonight,” Buck says primly.

Eddie hums his agreement and settles behind him, chest now pressed against his back, knees rising to tuck behind his own.

“Though, I best warn you,” he says, slipping an arm around Buck’s waist, “I do like to cuddle quite a bit.”

Buck huffs a laugh. Eddie gives him a squeeze around the middle, shifting closer still until they’re fully pressed together. Buck feels him press a kiss to his shoulder, the back of his neck, his head. 

“That’s quite alright with me. Cuddling is a fine pastime,” Buck tells him, laying his arm over Eddie’s and tangling their fingers together.

“You say the word if your feeling on that changes,” he says.

He tangles his feet with Buck’s and rubs his thumb up and down his stomach, sending a thrill through him. For a moment, Buck thinks Eddie might touch him. That he might slide his hand down and grope where Buck’s cock is thickening just a bit.

It never comes to be and Buck tries not to be disappointed. Enjoying the glorious heat instead and reveling that the liberties he took tonight have paid off.

He doesn’t allow himself to continue to dwell on what might have been.

Eddie’s breathing evens out, his breath warm against Buck’s neck, and Buck lets sleep take him.

—

In the morning, Buck wakes warm and rested and hard.

He’s flustered and embarrassed about the night before and being unable to make his husband interested enough to touch him. He slips from bed before Eddie, pulling on his gown and exits the room in a hurry.

Eddie finds him in the kitchen an hour later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he looks at Buck.

“You were up early,” he says.

Buck nods, awkward, and plates thick porridge, placing the bowl beside a plate of sausage, eggs, and biscuits for Eddie.

He sits at the table, giving Buck a grin.

“Come here,” he says, pulling Buck close with an arm around his waist, “I like this dressing gown. It’s pretty, delicate.”

“My sister bought it for me from overseas,” he says.

Eddie hums, pinching the fabric between his fingers.

“You cut a fine figure in it, even standing in front of a stove,” Eddie tells him, “If you ever ruin it, let me know and I’ll try my best to get you another.”

Buck looks at Eddie and believes him and the earnest expression the man wears on his face.

Buck nods and moves away, back to the stove.

“You’re more than welcome to join me again tonight,” Eddie says, “If you get cold.”

He stares at Buck, straight in the eye, “Or if you don’t.”

Buck’s cheeks flush, “Alright, thank you.”

He stands there watching Eddie grin and tuck into his food before he goes to wake Christopher.

—

When Hen gets back from taking the children to school, she comes knocking on the kitchen door. She finds Buck sitting at the kitchen table, taking a break and reading.

“I’ve got a project for the week,” she says, after letting herself in, “Thought you’d like to help me.”

“Oh?” Buck asks, “What’s the project?”

“You and I have done a decent job getting things ready for winter,” she says, bending down to stoke the fire in the stove, “It’s time to render animal fat. We’ll need a good supply for cooking, candle making, soap and the like.”

“I’ve never done that before.”

She smiles kindly, “I’d expected as much, but I’ll teach you.”

Buck is happy to learn and to spend more time with her. He’s come to value their time together and he thinks they’re nearly friends.

“Alright,” she says, clapping her hands, “Pull out your biggest pots. I’ll go get the fat.”

—

They spend the day rendering the fat.

Purifying, heating, and clarifying over and over and over.

It would be monotonous and boring if not for Hen’s company.

Eddie comes in at lunch time, seeing the work they’re doing, and he offers to feed and entertain the children with Karen when they get home, so the two can continue their efforts. They accept his offer gladly.

They laugh and chat and gossip about the ranch hands. It makes the hours go by quickly and they make themselves quick sandwiches for dinner, eating them standing over the sink.

“What do you think of Ravi?” Hen asks him when they’re back to work.

“He’s… fine?” Buck settles on, not sure what she’s asking.

Hen laughs, stirring the fat, “Yes, I know he was a bit hard on you at first, but he’s come around now.”

Buck nods, “He has.”

“He’s real sweet on Albert, you know,” she says, glancing at Buck.

Buck’s eyebrows lift, “Really?”

“Mmhmm,” she hums, “Albert’s such a sweet boy. Did you know he’s a carrier too?”

That’s news to Buck. He’d had no idea there was another carrier around here. He kind of wishes someone would have said, because without being told, he wouldn’t ever know. 

Carriers all have a birthmark similar to Buck’s. Though every carrier he’s ever met have their’s somewhere on their torso. It’s considered a very private thing as it’s a sign of their sex. So they keep them modest and covered. Though Buck couldn’t, as he’d been horribly unlucky in the placement of his own.

That’s another reason the refined folk in the city were repulsed by the very visible, unhideable mark of Buck’s gender. He’s been truly thankful the country folk don’t seem to hold the same reservations.

“Ravi brings him little treasures now and again,” she continues, “Sweet little things. A jar of honey, a bit of poetry, pressed flowers.”

“Are they courting?” Buck asks as he pours purified fat into water.

Hen shakes her head, “Not yet. Say, what was your courtship like with Eddie?”

He looks down, swallowing, “Eddie and I didn’t have a courtship.”

He looks up and sees her mouth drop into an O. He knew it was surprising. It was no secret he came from a family of high society and wealth. It was generally unheard of for a family like his own to marry off a child without a proper courtship.

“My father lost a great deal of money,” he explains, “They no longer had the means to wait for me to marry.”

It feels shameful to admit, but Hen has always been kind to him and he feels safe telling her.

“Well, that certainly is a thing that has happened before,” she says, “And many of those marriages are certainly still happy.”

Buck nods. It’s an awfully kind thing to say.

“I couldn’t have hoped for a better match, truly,” he admits to her. And it is true. He couldn’t have even dreamed of marrying a better man than Eddie.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” she says.

They spend the next long few moments switching out pots and stirring.

It’s well after dinner time now and Hen says, “It’s been a long day. I could use a drink.”

Buck nods, thinking a cup of apple cider sounds nice. Hen surprises him greatly when she asks, “Where does Eddie keep his whiskey?”

“Uh, in the sitting room. Why?” Buck asks, but Hen’s already moving to collect it.

When Eddie enters the kitchen after putting Christopher to bed, he finds them deep into their cups, laughing uproariously. Karen walks in right after, coming to collect her wife.

“Oh my Lord above,” Eddie says, laughing with them.

“My husband!” Buck shouts with joy when he sees him.

“And my wife,” Hen drawls at the sight of Karen.

Karen is grinning, and kisses Hen softly on the mouth, wrapping an arm around her, “Time to get home, love.”

“You two were mighty busy today,” Eddie says, taking in the jars of rendered fat lining every surface in the kitchen, “Karen help me carry these down to the cellar, would you please?”

The two carry load after load of fat up and down the stairs.

“I do so like to watch our spouses work,” Hen says rather loudly.

“Hear, Hear!” Buck agrees.

They both ignore the snort that comes from the cellar.

—

After Hen and Karen leave, Eddie helps Buck up the stairs and into his room. 

“You sure are heavy,” Eddie tells him, huffing and adjusting his grip around Buck’s waist, “I bet you’ll be a sight come this time next year.”

“What d’you mean?” Buck asks, not understanding.

Eddie hums, “You’re bound to put on more muscle, working in the fields and helping all around. I can’t wait to see it.”

Buck hums this time, mumbling, “Sounds like somethin’ I should be sayin’ to you, not me. ’M already too big.”

Eddie laughs, “I know you think your kind should be smaller, dainty and what not, but I like the cut of a different physique. Your’s in particular.”

Buck smiles at him, wide and pleased.

They’re in Buck’s room now and Eddie nudges him towards the bed, giving him a gentle pat on the ass. Buck feels it light a warmth in his gut. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed, looking down as Eddie bends to take his shoes off.

“Did you ever court anyone? Press flowers for them or send them sweet things?” he asks, suddenly dying to know, the conversation with Hen lingering in his mind. 

Eddie shakes his head, slipping Buck’s first shoe off.

“No. My first marriage was arranged by my parents. I liked her well enough,” he pulls off Buck’s other shoe, “But I’d known her since we were little. Grew up with her. She felt more like a best friend than, well–” Eddie scratches at his cheek, looking up into Buck’s eyes, “a lover. I did right by her, took care of her, until she passed in childbirth. But there wasn’t any passion between us. Not the right kind of love for something like courting.”

Buck’s mind brings up another question and he has to know, has to ask and find out right this minute.

“Do you think– Could you,” he says, licking his lips, “feel that with–” he doesn’t finish, reaching his hand up to gesture at his own chest.

Eddie grins at him deviously, standing up.

“Oh darlin’, I think you’ve had your fill of questions for tonight,” he says, “Get some sleep. We can revisit the topic in the morning when you’re more sober, if you’d like.”

And with that, he heads to his room through their shared door, waving a hand and tossing him a quick “Goodnight” over his shoulder.

An hour later, when Buck is dressed in his nightshirt and silk dressing gown, he makes his way into Eddie’s room, then into Eddie’s bed. He cuddles up under the covers, pushing his face into Eddie’s shoulder, and throwing an arm around his waist.

“I will want to revisit the topic,” Buck tells Eddie, who tries to hold in his laughter.

Then he falls asleep, warm and comfortable.

When he remembers the topic the next day, he’s much too embarrassed by his own forwardness to raise it again.

—

Over the next two weeks, Buck sneaks in several nights before he begins to simply go to bed with Eddie.

This is what he’d wanted from the start. It’s nice to have it now, even though he wishes he didn’t have to be the one to force the issue in the first place, but needs must.

He remains frustrated that the man still doesn’t revisit their marriage bed intimately.

—

A week into December, a cold front hits.

Buck has been unbearably cold all week. 

Hen has stayed home today. The ranch hands aren’t coming for lunch, Eddie having packed a bag full of food for them, so they can stay in the warmth of the barns and eat between chores. Christopher is safe and warm at the Wilson’s, spending his day playing with Denny and Mara.

Safe in the knowledge he’s alone, Buck decides to warm up with a midday bath. Usually he waits until late evening after supper is over and Christopher is in bed, while Eddie occupied in the sitting room. 

The kitchen only gets warmer as he stokes the fire in the stove to boil the water. Steam rises from the tin washtub as he fills it.

He’s only been sitting in the blissfully hot water a few minutes when the backdoor opens letting a gust of icy wind in when Eddie steps through the door, hurriedly closing it behind him.

He stares at Eddie. Eddie stares at him. They both stare for a long moment before Eddie spins around, face red and eyes wide.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, “I didn’t know.”

“No, I know,” Buck says, moving to cover whatever parts he can with his hands, “I didn’t think anyone would come in.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie agrees, his shoulders are up around his ears, “I didn’t see anything, I swear. Or, well… not much.”

While Buck’s face is flushed at the situation, he finds he doesn’t care what his husband could have seen. He wouldn’t mind if he wanted to look his fill. 

The tub is small and Buck is large. He has to sit with his knees bent, the tops of them sticking out of the water. He’s not sure Eddie could even see much other than his chest.

“You can turn around,” Buck says, after arranging his washcloth over his most private bits, just in case.

Eddie turns, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Is everything alright?” Buck asks, trying to be casual, “This morning you said you wouldn't return until this evening.”

Eddie’s eyes have remained on the floor, but Buck sees the moment he remembers what he was doing. His eyes light up and he looks at Buck.

“Right, I wasn’t supposed to be back yet,” he says. His eyes stay resolutely on Buck’s face. “I was going to see a neighbor and realized I meant to bring a gift for his daughter’s fifth birthday. I came back to get it.”

“That’s nice,” Buck says. 

He watches as Eddie stands there frozen and still staring at his face. He almost smirks at the man for apparently forgetting again what he was doing. He pretends not to see when Eddie’s gaze strays, dragging down Buck’s neck and to his chest.

“Are you going to go get it?” Buck asks finally, keeping his face straight even as heat fills him.

“Hm?” 

“The gift,” Buck says slowly, “For the girl.”

“Right, yes, right,” Eddie snaps back to attention. He practically runs from the room.

Buck smiles as he hears Eddie rifle through something in the sitting room. A muffled thump later, he hears the click of Eddie’s boots coming back and then, there he is, in the kitchen again.

Eddie’s eyes catch on Buck again, “Won’t be late.”

Buck relaxes back in the tub, laying his arms out on the sides, chest more on display and lolls his head back on the rim.

“Alright,” he says, eyes on his husband.

Eddie stands, gazing at Buck for a long moment, hand poised over the doorknob. He licks his lips once, nods, and opens it, hurrying out.

—

When the cold front wanes, Eddie announces one evening they’re going to have a bonfire. The ranch hands had been cleaning up and collecting brush and trees from around the farm acreage and it needed to be burned. Eddie was going to use it as an excuse for a gathering and some revelry.

Buck and Hen spent the day making large pots of chili, cornbread, and apple hand pies.

“Aren’t bonfires traditionally held on the fourth of July?” Buck asks, curious. That’s the only time he himself has ever attended one.

Hen hums, “They’re more common out here than once a year. We have them sometimes just for the enjoyment of it. We make our own fun out here.”

Buck grins at her. It’s refreshing how unrestricted the country is.

“Now, tell me,” she says, “Have your girls grown enough to be integrated into the main coop yet?”

She’s asking after Buck’s chicks.

Eddie had given him instruction one day, on how to find fertilized eggs for hatching. Together, they found a dozen of them and Eddie led him through loading them into the coop’s incubator. Showing Buck where to place warm water inside of it.

Buck was nearly giddy at the thought of caring for the chicks and just a few days after, Eddie had come running, skidding to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen. He’d said “It’s happening” and the pair took off across the lawn.

When he entered the coop, the sounds of peeps sent a thrill of delight through him. Seven chicks had hatched, the others didn’t take.

Eddie had gently placed one tiny chick in Buck’s hand, letting him stroke the soft down of its feathers. He’d delighted in the small flock of babies and told Hen all about his girls in the coop.

“They have,” he tells her, “Eddie says they’re big enough to start moving over slowly. I don’t want them getting beat up.”

“Such a protective father,” Hen coos at  him, “Your babies are all grown now.”

Buck laughs, rolling his eyes. Though they’re moving to the main coop, they still won’t lay eggs of their own for a few months yet. He tells Hen as much and a smirk comes across her face.

“Hopefully by then you’ll be on your way to laying an egg of your own,” she says, smug.

Buck can feel his cheeks fill with heat and he’s only barely able to stop the grin trying to spread across his face.

“Henrietta,” he gasps, “I swear .” 

He slaps playfully at her shoulder and she cackles.

“Well, you’ve got to find some entertainment for the long winter,” she says primly, opening cans of diced tomatoes to add to the pots of chili.

He’s been struggling with the way Eddie has remained steadfast in not becoming intimate again. If Buck’s sister were here, he would be talking freely with her, asking for advice on breaking whatever barrier Eddie held.

Perhaps it’s time to lend that same trust he has for his sister to Hen. The woman has become his closest companion here. He believes he may be able to trust her with this.

“Eddie-,” Buck starts, “He-” He hesitates, not having any idea how to have this conversation, how to ask the questions he so badly needs answered.

He steels himself.

“Eddie hasn’t revisited… our marriage bed,” He stutters out, “since our wedding night.”

Hen’s brow furrows, “You marriage bed?”

“Um, I mean to say,” Buck’s face throbs with heat, “He hasn’t been… amorous with me. Since then.”

Now Hen’s brow rises in utter surprise, “No coupling? Not ever in all this time?”

Buck grits his teeth grimacing. When Hen sees his struggle, she sets aside the spoon she’d been stirring with and takes his hand, leading him to the table.

“Sit,” she says, no nonsense, then turns to set the kettle on the stovetop, “We’re taking a break for a minute. We’ll have tea.”

Buck does as he’s told, watching while she boils the water and prepares them each a cup. He uses the time to take several deep breaths, calming a bit.

“Alright,” she says, sitting across from him, “You were amorous,” clearly mocking the word he’d used, “on your wedding night and not since. Was Eddie not–” 

She pauses, not completing the question, but Buck understands her meaning.

“Eddie was,” Buck struggles to find a word that’s not too revealing, “adept.”

“Adept?! Lord have mercy,” Hen chuckles, “Alright.”

Buck stares down, taking a sip of his tea. This was mortifying. He’s got to keep going.

“He’s often quite… affectionate now,” Buck tells her, face scarlet, “It’s just…” He trails off.

“Not as affectionate as you like?” Hen asks, one eyebrow raised.

Buck nods, embarrassed and sheepish.

“I’ve got to say, this is a surprise,” she muses, “I saw him kiss you last week. Not in any way unfit for company, but I also saw him pat your ass. I thought for a moment he might start checkin’ it for ripeness, so I left right quick.”

“Hen!” Buck buries his face in his hands. He’s not sure if he’s going to survive this.

“Do you want it?” she asks plainly.

Buck nods behind his hands.

“Then listen to me,” she waits for Buck to lower his hands and look her in the eye, “That man is wrapped around your finger. If you can’t find the words to ask, then you show him what you want, you hear?”

“And that’s alright?” he asks, unsure, “That’s acceptable?”

She nods, giving him a grin, “He’ll like it even. Likely be right happy to oblige. I get the impression that you weren’t taught more than the bare minimum when it comes to what goes on behind closed doors in a marriage. Some acts are done just because they feel good. Because you want them and want to show each other you care about them. There’s no shame in that, you understand? None at all.”

Buck sits with that for a moment. That certainly makes a lot of sense and this far out in the country, it’s easier to see the way high society has stunted the things he could have known. 

It would be hard, but he could probably muster up the courage to do it. To show Eddie what he wants. He nods and thanks her.

“Now,” she says, rising, “Let’s get this chili done. We’ve got a lot of hungry men to feed and a good time to be had.”

—

They set up a table near the wood pile, laden with the food, cups, bowls, and utensils. They cart out an oak barrel from the cellar, full of apple cider.

By the time they’re serving it up, the sky is darkening to deep blue. The bonfire is roaring and its heat reaches far, leaving Buck warm and happy. He smiles as he watches Christopher play tag with the other kids, giggling all the while.

When they’re done, Buck stands a little back from the gathering, taking everything in. Ravi and Albert sit, huddled close together on a log. Hen and Karen are atop a blanket, holding hands and laughing. The other ranch hands are dotted here and there, playing cards or taking turns lassoing a fence post.

It’s a beautiful night. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced.

Christopher comes over to him, leaning on Buck and taking his hand. A moment later, arms wrap around him from behind, a firm chest resting against his back.

“Look up,” Eddie says.

When he does, it’s a sight he’ll never forget. The sky is a deep blue-black, no clouds in sight. There are more stars in the sky than he’s ever seen. After a moment, something shoots across the sky, then another and another.

“Oh,” he gasps, “Shooting stars.”

He feels Eddie nod where he's resting the side of his head against Buck’s.

“I read about an ancient Greek astronomer once,” Buck tells them, “that believed shooting stars appear when the gods peek through the celestial plains to see what mortals are doing. He said we should wish on them because there’s no better time to ask them for what we want.”

“Let’s make a wish, Buck,” Christopher says, shaking Buck’s hand.

“Alright,” Buck grins down at him, “When you see one, make a wish for whatever you want.”

“For anything?” Christopher asks.

“Anything,” Buck says, “But you can’t tell anyone what it is or it won’t come true.”

They all look back into the sky, waiting for the next shooting star. When one streaks across the sky, Buck closes his eyes.

Please, let me thrive here. Let me be happy here, he wishes, and cracking his eyes open to look at Eddie he adds, Let me find love.

—

One morning Buck wakes and when he rolls over searching for Eddie’s warmth, he finds nothing. He figures his husband is likely in the bathroom and burrows into the warmth remaining, pressing his face into Eddie’s pillow and breathing in his smell.

He’s dozing when Eddie returns, sliding in behind Buck, letting in icy air.

“You’re in my spot,” Eddie says, blanketing his back and wrapping his arms around him. Buck feels him press his mouth to his neck and sparks run up his spine.

“My spot now,” he says, grinning as he turns to face Eddie, still wrapped in his arms.

Since Buck started sleeping in his bed, Eddie’s touches had become more frequent, squeezes at his hips and pats on his ass a common thing now. He’d also been pressing more kisses to him, on the cheek, mouth, neck, shoulder.

Buck wanted more and he wanted them longer, deeper, less tender.

He lays there face to face with Eddie, staring into his handsome face and watching Eddie stare back. Maybe if Buck can be brave, just like he was when he slipped into his husband’s bed, maybe if he can take Hen’s advice, then he can make what he wants happen.

He inches his face closer, leaning in. Eddie keeps his gaze on Buck’s face, expression giving nothing away. 

Buck’s heart races as he closes in, pressing a kiss off center to Eddie’s lips. He lingers there for a moment, before pulling back. 

He watches a smile spread on Eddie’s lips, watches as Eddie still doesn’t move, watches as he hitches his chin towards Buck. A clear signal to do it again.

Buck is quick to press his mouth to Eddie’s again, settling his body firmly to his husband’s. 

They kiss and kiss and their mouths get slick as they begin opening their lips. Buck grasps at Eddie’s shoulders, while Eddie pulls him in tighter, hands pressing into Buck’s back. 

Eddie’s tongue finally pushes between Buck’s lips, setting him to gasping at the feel of Eddie’s tongue sliding against his own.

They kiss until they’re panting and gasping into each other’s mouths.

Buck has ended up on his back, Eddie laying over him between his legs. They’re both hard where they rub against one another. Buck can’t help but cant his hips up to meet Eddie’s own. The groan that leaves Eddie is obscene and Buck can’t stop himself from grabbing at the roundest part of Eddie’s ass to pull him against himself. 

They’re moving then, desperate for friction. The heat between them grows as Eddie leans down, attaching his mouth to Buck’s neck. One of Eddie’s hands is planted on the bed, the other slides into Buck’s hair, tilting his head so his mouth has more access.

It’s not long before Buck is crying out and spending himself between them, come seeping through the fabric of his nightshirt. Eddie groans, leaning back and staring down at Buck where he’s shaking hard, gasping for air. 

Eddie sighs out, “Fuck, darlin’, you are so beautiful.” Then he shoves his drawers down and strokes himself to completion.

They catch their breath, cuddled together. 

Buck can’t help the satisfied smile on his face. 

He’s finally done it, broken whatever barrier had been holding them back. 

Surely now, Eddie would start asking for his husbandly rights.

Chapter Text

It’s midway through December, and Eddie’s physical affections have grown.

He’ll do things like backing Buck up against the kitchen counter, kissing him like he’s trying to steal his breath. He’ll come into the kitchen after Buck’s out of the bath, telling him it smells nice in the room while giving him a sweet kiss and saying “You smell nice, too.” 

They’ll be amorous with one another in the quiet dark of Eddie’s room. They’ll lie tangled together, Eddie between Buck’s legs and he’ll think, “ Yes, finally. ” But Eddie won’t enter him.

His husband still isn’t asking for his full rights. They haven’t fully coupled again. 

It’s causing Buck to be all out of sorts.

—

One December night, it gets cold enough for a dusting of snow that’s quickly followed by a freezing rain.

Buck thinks nothing of it, happy to have the excuse for Christopher to stay home from school. The boy is playing in the sitting room, while Buck cleans up after breakfast.

There’s a knock on the kitchen door and when he goes to answer it, he finds Ravi there shivering, cold and wet. He doesn’t think twice, ushering the man through the kitchen and into the sitting room, pushing him in front of the fire.

“You’re going to have to strip,” Buck tells him, “Chris, either go to the kitchen or your room.”

The child jumps up, ambling away as quickly as he can. Buck turns back to Ravi, noticing the man hesitating.

“It’s nothing I’ve never seen before,” Buck snaps, “You’ve got to get out of those wet clothes or you’ll never warm up.”

That sets Ravi into motion and he begins undressing quickly. While he does it, Buck leaves to find a thick blanket. 

When he returns, Ravi is sitting on the rug in front of the fire in his drawers, legs pulled to his chest, arms wrapped around them and shaking. He drapes the blanket across his shoulders, then wraps it around him tucking in the edges.

“What in the world happened?” Buck asks.

“Did something stupid,” Ravi admits, cheeks red and nose chapped, “The pond was froze over this morning. Thought it might hold me. Fell through when I stepped off the dock.”

No wonder he was shivering then. Buck goes to make a cup of coffee for him. Hoping to help warm him from the inside out. 

Hypothermia can happen even when the weather is slightly warmer than today, especially if someone were to be wet and exposed to the wind. Ravi was both, the poor thing, having to trek all the way to the house with his clothes soaked through.

He walks into the sitting room and hands the coffee to Ravi, telling him to sit tight.

He goes straight upstairs to the sewing room and starts clearing away his mess. He calls for Christopher to lend a hand and the two prepare the room to have a guest, building a roaring fire in the hearth. He’s so thankful the sewing room holds an extra bed.

The ranch hands sleep in the barns in rough bunks. Eddie had assured him once that the hands were fine there in winter. The heat from the animals keeps the barn warm and if that’s not enough, the ranch hands have each other for body heat.

But Buck knows the only hands that remain for the winter now are Ravi and Albert, who maintain the animal work in the barn. With the harvest done for the year and the holidays on the way, the other hands have left until spring, finding other jobs to employ them like butchering, chopping firewood, and even toolery. 

Today, Albert isn’t at the ranch, having ridden into town to stay the week with his brother. Buck isn’t going to take the chance that Ravi could catch another chill once warmed up. He isn’t going to risk his life.

Once Ravi is dried out and no longer shivering, Buck marches him upstairs, shushing any protests he tries to give and telling him to never do a thing such as this again.

“Get some rest and keep warm,” he says after tucking Ravi in firmly and laying an extra blanket over him. Ravi thanks him before pulling the quilts over his shoulders and turning to the wall. Buck watches him for a moment, feeling satisfied with himself, then heads back down the stairs to his chores.

—

Eddie returns near supper time.

“Ravi will be staying here at the house tonight,” Buck informs him as soon as he steps inside the kitchen, “He’s sleeping upstairs in the sewing room.”

“Is he ill?” Eddie asks, worried.

“Not ill,” he says, but reconsiders, “Well not yet. Hopefully not at all. He showed up early this morning, soaked through and shivering. He fell through the ice on the pond and walked back. I was worried about hypothermia.”

“Aw, hell, the great idiot,” Eddie says, running a hand down his face. He heads upstairs in a rush to check on the ranch hand and get the story.

Before he’d left the room, Buck had taken in the way his husband was covered in dirt and muck. The man had been absolutely filthy with it and that would not do.

He sets water to boil, bringing out the washtub. He’s filled it with several pitchers full of icy water from the sink by the time Eddie returns.

“You’ve tracked all manner of grime through my house now,” Buck tells him with a glare, “Now come wash yourself off before you track any more.”

“I’m awful sorry, darlin’,” he says, sitting down in a chair and starting to shuck off his muddy pants.

Buck pours the boiling water into the cold water in the tub, setting more to boil immediately. The hot water should bring the cold liquid up to room temperature at least, higher if his husband’s lucky. 

He hears the wet plop of Eddie’s pants by the kitchen door.

“You don’t have to go through the trouble of heating that water,” Eddie says, “I could just use what’s in there now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s freezing outside and I don’t want you chancing hypothermia too,” Buck says, annoyed at Eddie’s audacity, “You will sit in that chair and wait.”

Eddie sits back in the chair, seemingly out of argument, grinning up at Buck. He starts to remove his shirt, staring at Buck all the while, grin turning soft and sweet. Buck thinks he might understand what Hen meant when she said Eddie looks at him like he’s hung the moon now.

Buck pulls the now boiling pot of water off the stove, pouring it into the tub. When he’s refilled it and turns to set it on the stove again, Eddie comes up behind him, placing his hands on his hips. He presses a kiss to Buck’s shoulder and presses his face into the fabric of Buck’s shirt between his shoulder blades.

Buck doesn’t even try to stop himself from leaning back into it, into the broad heft of Eddie.

Eventually the man moves away to the washtub. Buck turns and watches as he sinks into it, steam rising around him. He doesn’t even try to hide his gaze, letting his eyes linger along Eddie’s body.

As he watches Eddie lean back into the tub and sigh, Buck thinks, once again, about how much more physically affectionate Eddie has become. About how much he’s enjoyed it. And about how much more of it he’d like.

—

On Christmas Eve morning, Hen comes bustling in through the kitchen door.

“Merry Christmas!” she exclaims, grinning ear to ear.

“Merry Christmas,” Buck replies, smiling in kind.

They were going to prepare for Christmas dinner that night.

The Wilson’s, Ravi, and Albert would be joining Eddie, Buck, and Christopher for dinner and festivities. Buck decided they should invite everyone to stay overnight. The Wilson’s will be put up in the sewing room, their children with Christopher, and Ravi and Albert would sleep on pallets in the parlor. Then they would enjoy breakfast on Christmas morning together.

He serves her a cup of coffee, getting caught in a yawn as he sits it down in front of her with a cup of his own. Coffee is the one luxury Buck hadn’t had to go without. Though it was expensive, Eddie was more than willing to keep it in stock when he saw how much Buck loved it of a morning. Buck couldn’t have been more grateful for it.

“Tired?” she asked slyly, “I take it you fared well from the advice I gave you?”

Buck flushes remembering what had occurred just that morning.

Eddie had woken him while the room was still dark, with his mouth pressed to the back of Buck’s neck and his hard cock pressed to his ass.

Buck had let Eddie turn him easily, helping as he stripped the nightshirt from his body. With it gone, Eddie settled between his legs, leaning down to give Buck deep kisses. Eddie had run his hands all over Buck’s body while he stayed attached to Buck’s mouth, until Buck was absolutely shaking with it.

They’d been quiet, except for the sound of their rasping breath and the slick sounds of their mouths moving against one another.

Buck had been sure, so very sure, that this would be the morning that Eddie would occupy his body again.

But Eddie never opened Buck up or pressed inside. He’d rutted their cocks together, laying atop Buck, pressing him into the bed and mouthing at his chest. The movement was aided by their own mingling wetness and Eddie had spilled first, gasping. 

Buck had been half scandalized when the man leaned back and gathered his come in his hand, using it to strip Buck’s cock until he’d spent too.

Buck had lain there, catching his breath, Eddie lay atop him, mouthing at him once again.

“Good morning ,” Eddie had said into the flesh on his neck.

Buck hummed, “Good morning.”

He’d felt confused then, not understanding why his husband hadn’t coupled properly with him yet again. While Buck has enjoyed every second, he feels the want for an encore of their first time together.

He still feels confused about it now, sitting here with Hen and it prompts him to speak.

“Well,” he says to her, pursing his lips, “I did– fare well – but not quite in the way I’d hoped for.”

“Not quite how?” Hen hedges.

“Not in the same… manner… as our first night together,” Buck tries to explain delicately.

She tilts her head, “Do you mean that he took you somewhere other than the bed?”

“Lord, help me, no ,” Buck answers, embarrassed as can be.

“Don’t be prissy with me now,” she says, “You started this dialogue.”

Buck’s face is bright red and he can’t look at her.

“You mean to say he spent himself outside of you, perhaps?” she asks, trying to get to the bottom of what he’s saying.

“Jesus, Hen!”

“Well?” she asks again, insistently, “So you say you and your husband are fuck-” 

Buck nearly inhales the sip of coffee he’s taking, smacking his mug back down on the table.

“ Henrietta,” he chokes out , “ That’s not a proper word for a lady to say.”

“Alright, coupling then,” she continues, waving him off, “You and your husband are coupling and what?”

He sighs, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment, “It’s just, when we… He hasn’t...” 

He’s just so embarrassed. He thinks even if he were talking to his sister, he’d still be mortified, but he knows he must soldier on. Hen has already helped him once, she’ll no doubt help him again.

“It’s just,” he continues, looking into Hen’s patient gaze, “we’ve only coupled once… properly… with him,” he almost chokes on the words, “Inside of me.”

Hen hums her understanding, motioning with her hand for him to continue.

“He only… rubs,” Buck says haltingly, “against me. He seems uninclined to couple properly again.”

“Ohhh, so you and your husband are frotting,” she says, grinning and finally understanding, “And do you enjoy it like that?”

Buck flushes once again. He certainly had enjoyed it, but–

“I do,” he says, swallowing, “But I would also enjoy, you know, the other way.”

“I see,” she says smirking, “I know last time I suggested action, but I fear you may have to use your words now and ask for what you want.”

Buck grimaces. He doesn’t know if he could be that bold and forthright.

Hen takes in his reaction, “Well, if you won’t use words. You may have to use bolder action then,” she gives him a sly grin, “If you lay belly down and raise your ass in the air, I imagine he’ll understand what you want.”

“My god,” Buck gasps. The thought of being so bold is daunting.

“If you aren’t enjoying yourself, be sure to tell him,” Hen says, sipping from her cup and setting it back down on the table, “When you fully couple, Eddie prepares your…,” she takes a moment, seeming to try and find her words, “ tinderbox… yes?”

“Lord have mercy upon my soul,” he mumbles into his hands. He may not survive this. This may be the end of him.

Hen looks just as embarrassed as he feels.

“Yes, he is… thorough,” Buck forces himself to say.

“I know this is a much more intimate conversation that you were maybe intending,” Hen says, trying to placate some of the embarrassment, “I only seek to ensure you know what you’re doing. If you ever have questions again, you come to me, alright?”

Buck nods. It had been a partly humiliating conversation, but he is endlessly grateful for her wisdom and ability to be candid.

“That’s all of the advice for you this time,” she says, shrugging, “Take it or leave it.”

Buck shakes his head in wonder at her, smiling wide.

“Now that that’s settled,” she says winking at him, “We’ve got a bird to roast and sides to make. Let’s hop to it.”

“Alright,” Buck answers, putting away their coffee cups and moving to the counter. 

They discuss what needs to be done and the timing they should institute. Thankfully he’d already started the turkey preparation, salting the bird and letting it sit overnight. They’ll need to start cleaning vegetables, making bread, and stagger roasting the turkey, making sides, and baking pies. There’s a lot to do and he’s so thankful for Hen’s help.

They’d already done this once for Thanksgiving. So they were familiar with each other’s strengths and weaknesses in the kitchen this time around. They moved easily around each other and had dishes prepared in no time.

This Christmas dinner is so different from the ones he’d had at home in Hershey. They’d eaten turtle soup and braised goose with platters of delicately seasoned vegetables, silver servers of gravy, and dishes full of puddings. Their plates had been arranged and served by staff, with small portions intended to keep their figures maintained. The holiday was always a quiet affair, stoic and proud, with the family seated around tables with crisp red and white linens, elegant centerpieces, and crystal. He’d had to share secret smiles with Maddie, stifling their laughter, to avoid any stern looks from his mother.

They were horribly tedious and contained no joy. He smiled when he remembered that this holiday would be so different.

—

Buck thought he and Hen would have more time before dinner. Time enough to wash themselves up, at least, and wash off the scent of food from cooking over a hot stove, but that doesn’t happen.

“I’ll start setting food on the table,” Hen says, shooing him away, “You go on upstairs and get changed. Can’t have the rancher’s husband serving Christmas dinner in an oil stained shirt.”

Buck looks down and sees she’s correct. There are oil splatters on his shirt. He looks to Hen and finds her clothes pristine and wonders how she managed it.

He starts to go, but gets distracted by the view from the kitchen window. The light coming in is low, the sun sinking into the horizon. The sky is lit up like a fire in smouldering red and orange. It serves to make the world seem warmer than it is. Buck glances out, seeing the dried brown of the fields, a lone horse standing there proud. 

He almost misses Hershey then. Almost misses the bright snow that always blanketed the city in soft hues of blue, purple, and white. For just a moment, he remembers the wonder of watching the snow flurries fall and walking through it hand in hand with Maddie, their noses pink with cold.

The door to the dining room opens when Hen goes through, carrying baskets of rolls and bread for the table. The sound of laughter from both children and menfolk comes tinkling in from the sitting room, along with a waft of pine scent from their Christmas tree.

It brings him back to the present and he shakes the memories from his head. 

No need to reflect on all of that , he thinks, there’s no place I’d rather be than right here.

Buck goes and changes as quickly as he can, not wanting to delay dinner any further. 

He picks out a dusty pink button down with neat pintucking down the front, sliding it on over brown wool trousers. He wants to look decent without being too elegant, worrying about feeling overdressed compared to the others. So he forgoes a tie and jacket, slipping on a matching brown waistcoat instead and heads back downstairs to help set the table.

—

After a dinner filled with revelry, laughter, stories, and whiskey, the group retires to the parlor for carols and gift giving.

Eddie stops Buck with a hand on his arm, keeping him back as everyone heads into the parlor. Once they’re alone, he gives Buck that soft smile that he always does and runs his eyes up and down his form.

“I just had to tell you,” Eddie says, “you look as pretty as a peach,”

He leans back against the table and pulls Buck in between his feet, arms circling his waist and pressing his face into the hollow of Buck’s throat. 

“I think that’s your color, darlin’,” he says into the skin of Buck’s neck, “You are by far the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Buck feels his cheeks go hot, “Oh?”

Buck can’t see his face, but he feels Eddie’s smirk against his skin. One hand drags from his waist to cup his ass, squeezing once, before Eddie lets go and leans back.

Gazing up into Buck’s face, he cups his cheek, thumbing across his birthmark, “Haven’t seen enough of you today.”

Buck hums, “I’ve been busy, but you saw me plenty this morning.”

“I certainly did see you, but not plenty enough,” Eddie grins wide, gaze molten like melted chocolate.

Buck rolls his eyes and tries not to be charmed by it. He fails.

He decides to be brave again and says, “I might let you see me tonight too, perhaps.”

“Oh?” Eddie says, cocking his brow, “That so?”

Buck grins, “ Perhaps.”

He walks away then to join the others, hearing Eddie chuckle behind him all the way into the parlor.

Buck is astonished to learn Eddie can play the old piano sitting against a wall. Buck sits beside him on the bench, turning the pages of the music book as he plucks along on the out-of-tune piano.

He delights in the way everyone sings and laughs, slurring along to the music. They must get through six or seven songs before the children begin begging for their presents.

They all sit and watch as the children open their gifts. A doll and dollhouse for Mara. Marbles and a construction set for Denny. Checkers and a tin train set for Christopher. 

Buck sits back watching the children play with their new toys. Everyone takes their places around the room. Ravi and Albert sit together on the floor. Hen and Karen settle into a settee. Buck and Eddie sit in the yellow velvet chairs.

Buck realizes as he sits, looking around the room, that he thinks of this collection of people as his, as his own little family. 

It fills him with a warmth he’s never known a family to bring. He thinks of the last Christmas party his parents gave in Hershey. Of how his mother had been more interested in their guests being impressed with the extravagance of their home. She hadn’t wanted Buck too close to their party, so he’d stayed on the fringes. He’d felt quite unhumorous as he’d watched her gather her guests around the grand piano, everyone singing in tune and the piano manned by a professional pianist. He’d watched as Maddie slid her hand through her fiance's elbow, gazing up in adoration. Then he’d marched back to the dining room, plucked a bottle of scotch off the sideboard, and ascended the stairs to his room for the rest of the night.

Thinking over these things makes him realize he thought his life would be that way forever. If he had married a wealthy man, he would have been expected to keep mostly out of sight and quiet as a church mouse, until called upon. He’d likely live in a house kept in pristine condition that felt cold and unwelcoming, all for the sake of parading boring company through the ostentatiousness of it.

Instead he gets to enjoy warmth and happiness, in a house with character filled with family and merrymaking. It makes his heart glow with tenderness. 

When he looks to Eddie and sees him smiling down at Christopher there’s something else there. Some other emotion. Something growing on the fringes of his feelings. He’s not sure what it is yet, but he can feel it drawing ever nearer.

—

Buck and Hen get the children tucked into bed in Christopher’s room. When they come back down, Hen and Karen bid he and Eddie goodnight, heading upstairs and into the sewing room. Ravi and Albert are already in the parlor on their pallets in front of the fire, the doors closed for privacy.

Eddie walks to his desk, opens a drawer and pulls out a gift wrapped in lace fabric and tied with a red bow.

“I have something for you,” Eddie says, handing it to Buck.

He’s surprised, not having expected anything. Before he opens it, he turns to one bookcase, pulling a gift wrapped in brown parchment paper out of its shelf.

“I have something for you as well,” he says, handing it over.

They unwrap their gifts together. 

Buck pulls a box from the lace wrapping. It’s dark green with an image of a lady in white, swinging on her long hair. When he opens it, he finds a bottle of white rose perfume. He gasps, delighted. Upon opening the bottle, the sweet scent of rose meets his nose.

“Thank you,” he says, looking at Eddie. He hadn’t realized his husband had noticed he’d run out of his perfume a month ago, “You didn’t have to buy this. I could have done without it.”

“I wanted to. Thought you might like that more than a little sweet thing,” he says, recalling when they talked of courtship and giving Buck a smile. 

He holds up his own unwrapped gift, “Now what do we have here?”

Buck feels color bloom on his cheeks, the thought that he and Eddie had the same idea brings a sweet pleasure to him. Buck had retrieved the flower he pressed on his first day at the ranch, setting it on ivory velvet inside a fine picture frame he found unused in the sewing room.

“It’s a pressed bluebonnet,” he says, “I picked it from the side of the road when you brought me to the ranch for the first time.”

Eddie hums, smiling down at the gift and running his finger over the surface.

“It was beautiful that day,” Buck says, “And it was my first day here, at home, with you. I thought you might like it. To serve as a reminder of it.”

“I do indeed,” Eddie says, setting it down on his desk where he’ll see it every day, “I guess we’re like minded, revisiting the topic of courting and all.”

 When Buck looks back up, Eddie’s giving him that same soft smile that Buck’s decided is his favorite.

Eddie walks to him and gives him a kiss on the mouth. When he moves away, there’s a lingering wetness on Buck’s lip. Buck goes to lick it at the same time Eddie drags his thumb across it.

Eddie gasps at the feel of Buck’s tongue, “Come. Let’s go to bed.”

He grasps Buck’s hand, leading him upstairs.

—

Buck readies for the night in the bathroom, Eddie taking a turn when he’s done.

He dresses for bed in Eddie’s room. He’d pulled one of his trunks in there days ago, tired of always having to go to his own room to change. 

Buck huddles beneath two quilts. It’s cold in the room and while it took no time to build a fire, it hasn’t been lit long enough to make it warm. 

By the time Eddie finally pushes the door open, stepping inside, candle first, Buck’s stomach has gone restless.

He watches as Eddie makes his way across the room, slipping off his suspenders. He unfastens his trousers, pushing them down and then draping them onto the back of a chair. He casts a glance at Buck, starting to open the buttons of his shirt.

“Did you have a good Christmas, darlin’?” Eddie asks, slipping off his shirt, turning to add it to the chair.

“Yes,” Buck answers. He can see the enticing curve of his husband’s ass under his drawers, then the outline of his cock as he walks over.

He licks his lips, taking a deep breath as Eddie slides into bed. He’s been turning this over in his head all day. He’d tried not to think on it, but his mind kept returning, no matter the distraction.

Buck hums, turning onto his side and pressing close to Eddie. The man is so warm and smells like woodsmoke from the fire, whiskey, and pine. He pushes his face into Eddie’s neck, taking deep breaths of his husband.

“I hope your Christmas was good too,” he says into Eddie’s skin, pressing an open mouthed kiss to it. He does it again, then listens as Eddie takes a deep breath and brings his hand to the back of Buck’s head, pressing him in again. He kisses Eddie on the neck again and again, mouth open and leaving wetness behind. He moves up to his jaw, then to his mouth.

Eddie turns, rolling onto his side and sliding a hand into Buck’s hair, tilting his head just right, kissing him deeper, hotter. The kiss feels burning and Buck wants to be burned by it.

Eddie surprises him, sucking on his tongue when Buck pushes it into his mouth. Eddie groans, letting it go and pushing his own into Buck’s mouth, like he’s chasing the flavor. They push and pull, reveling in the slick slide.

Buck pulls back to tug at Eddie’s undershirt, “I’ve been thinking about you today. Since this morning.”

He finds the bottom of the shirt, slipping his hand under, feeling up the muscles of Eddie’s abdomen.

“Yeah,” Eddie asks, sitting up and pulling off his shirt, “Since then?”

Buck hums his affirmation, laying back and dragging Eddie on top of him. He likes the heavy weight of his husband pressing him down into the mattress. Grabbing Eddie’s broad shoulders, he brings his husband further down onto him, fitting him between his thighs and chest to chest.

He’d laid there a little while, waiting for Eddie, and thought over everything they’ve done together. Their kisses and touches and every time Eddie had made him come. He’s hard, has been since he laid in bed. He feels slick between his legs too. There’s a liquid molten feeling in his gut and he just can’t wait any longer.

He draws up his thighs, bracketing Eddie’s ribs and squeezes a bit. His hands drag down Eddie’s body to the small of his back and pull him closer while Buck cants his hips.

“This what you’ve been thinking about?” Eddie asks, kissing at his jaw, moving down to rake his teeth across Buck’s neck. His palm reaches down to Buck’s thigh, finding the hem of his nightshirt and sliding under, feeling up his thigh and hip until he reaches Buck’s ribs.

“Yes,” Buck gasps. He decides to be bold, “And this.” 

Buck slips his hand from Eddie’s back, around his front and in between them. His heart is fluttering. He strokes Eddie’s cock through his drawers, feeling the shape of him, how hard he is.

Eddie groans, his breath hot and heavy against Buck’s chest. He shoves Buck’s nightshirt up, moving his head downward, kissing over fabric first and then the skin he’s uncovered, until he’s sitting back on his haunches between Buck’s legs and staring hotly down at him.

His hands curl arounds Buck’s thighs, “Take it off.”

Buck slips the nightshirt up, up, up and off his shoulders. As he unveils skin, Eddie slides his calloused palm across the pale expanse, the rough texture feels incredible dragging up Buck’s body from hip to throat.

Buck begins to push down his drawers. Eddie hooks his fingers into the waist, moving a bit and pulling them down and off Buck’s legs.

There’s a moment after Eddie settles back between his legs, still on his haunches and staring down at Buck, that he wonders if he can be brave enough.

Then he forces himself to flip, bringing his knees up and rolling over. He presses his chest to the bed, raising his ass high, and clenching his eyes shut, fists gripping the sheets beside his head.

“ Fuck,” Eddie groans out from behind him. Buck waits for Eddie to do something for long enough that he wonders if this was a mistake.

But before he can worry too much about it, Eddie is sliding forward, hands grasping the round of Buck’s ass. He slips his thumb between, rubbing at Buck’s opening.

“This what you want?” he asks.

Buck nods into the sheets.

“You gotta give me your words, darlin’” he says, stroking his thumb over Buck again.

“Yes,” Buck gasps out, face pressed into the bed, “Please.”

He can’t bear to look back, knowing Eddie will be watching him, looking at his most intimate place.

Eddie rubs over his hole once more, before pressing it in. Buck lets a small sound escape at the feeling. It’s good, so good.

“Oh,” Eddie rumbles low and hot, “You’re wet.”

Another sound escapes Buck, a groan this time. He’s red in the face and his opening is aching.

“Don’t think we’ll need the oil tonight. Not at all,” Eddie says. He removes his thumb to press back in deep with a finger and Buck keens, “There it is.”

He strokes his finger over that spot Buck had tried to reach so long ago and failed. His toes curl at the feeling when Eddie adds another finger, stretching and preparing him.

He feels Eddie’s knuckles catch on his rim when he makes it up to three. They press in and out, stretching and moving, rubbing over that spot over and over. It makes him moan. He feels so desperate for more.

After a long moment, Eddie asks, “You want it like this?”

Buck shakes his head. He'd only gotten into this position to make his point. He still wanted to look upon his husband as they coupled. He wanted to see his strong sturdy body and be able to reach for a kiss.

Eddie withdraws his fingers and Buck misses them immediately, feeling open and empty. He's distracted from the feeling when he's manhandled, turned over and arranged to Eddie's liking.

“Jesus, look at you,” Eddie says, sliding his hands up Buck's legs and leaning down to press a wet kiss to his inner thigh. “I could stay like this with you forever, right here.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, staring down at Eddie's head between his thighs.

Eddie shuffles forward, placing a kiss to Buck's lips, before sitting back and pressing his cock to Buck's hole.

“Ready, darlin'?” Eddie asks.

Buck nods and Eddie presses forward, pushing deep. The movement forces a broken groan from Buck. Eddie pulls back and thrusts shallowly several times and Buck delights at sensation. This is what he's been wanting, what he's been waiting for since their wedding night.

“Fuck, you beautiful thing,” Eddie groans out, thrusting in and in and in.

Lord have mercy, Buck thinks desperately, This man.

Buck keeps trying to catch his breath, but Eddie is hot and thick inside him and every thrust knocks his breath loose again. Eddie moves, sliding his hands down under Buck’s hips and down further to grip his ass. He lingers there, massaging at his ass and leans down to mouth over his chest, licking across a nipple. When he leans back, Eddie hitches Buck’s hips up and sinks deeper inside, panting.

Eddie tightens his grip and proceeds to fuck him up the bed, hard and wild, redoubling his efforts and the headboard slaps against the wall once, twice, before Buck throws a hand up to stop it. He only prays their company doesn’t hear and clenches his mouth around the sounds trying to leave him.

Eddie’s skin is golden in the firelight and Buck watches as he thrusts and stares down at him, eyes hooded.

“Touch yourself,” he says as his pace falters just a bit. 

Buck hesitates for a moment before he hears, “Buck, baby, please . Let me see.”

“Like this?” Buck asks and looks up at Eddie through his eyelashes, reaching down and wrapping a hand around himself, sliding his thumb over the wet head. He must be quite the picture, stretched out with one hand holding the headboard and one wrapped around his cock. Eddie’s gaze burns down on him and he pushes Buck’s leg higher, sinking deeper inside, lighting Buck up from head to toe.

Eddie doesn’t answer, he just fucks into Buck faster, harder, angling his hips up and pushing into that spot over and over. He slides one hand up Buck’s thigh, bringing his knee over his shoulder and turns his head, sucking a mark into the skin just above Buck’s knee.

“This whole time I thought I needed to be slow, take my time and let you acclimate, but you were just holding back,” he pants into Buck’s skin, “You’re a minx.”

Buck pants as he nods along with Eddie’s words. He would have agreed to anything Eddie said as the pleasure cascades through him. It feels so good. Eddie bearing down on him and kissing the inside of his thigh. Eddie’s eyes gazing down, hot and molten.

He hits that spot inside again and Buck cries out, unable to hold it in any longer. Eddie hits it twice more as Buck twists his hand over the head of his cock and that’s all it takes for him to come. His back arches and he goes tight all over, clenching down around Eddie as he fucks him through it.

It’s amazing and too much and entirely not enough. He just came and already wants more.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie groans out, surging forward to give him open mouthed kisses. He thrusts a few more times into him before spending deep inside.

They lie there a few moments, until Eddie pulls out and cleans Buck up. They get the quilts settled back on the bed, slipping underneath them, wrapping around each other. Eddie presses his face into the side of Buck’s neck, sighing.

Buck cuddles him closer, when a thought strikes him, “Do you think anyone heard?”

“Hm?” Eddie hums, then says, “Well, sound sometimes has a way of traveling in this house.”

“Oh god,” Buck utters, embarrassed.

Eddie just grins against his throat, “‘S alright. We’re still mostly newlyweds. It’s natural. Expected even.”

Buck swallows heavily, “Alright.”

Eddie squeezes him around the middle, “Thought I was workin’ our way toward this, but you been thinking on this for a while?”

Buck shrugs, “I’ve enjoyed what we’ve been doing quite thoroughly, but…”

“But you wanted this too,”  Eddie says, finishing his sentence.

It’s what we’re supposed to do , Buck thinks, but doesn’t say, It’s what newlyweds do .

He nods instead.

“Might get you in the family way pretty quick like this,” Eddie says.

Buck shakes his head, “That’ll take a while. Carriers don’t take as fast as women do.”

Eddie makes a noise of disbelief. Buck’s not sure what to do with that and leaves it where it is.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else, just curls tighter around Buck and nuzzling closer. Buck smiles to himself and pulls him in, intent on making Eddie hard again.

—

The next morning Buck wakes to a cock crowing and the room is dark. The fire has burned out in the night, but he remains warm, pressed against Eddie. His husband is still asleep, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks and snoring quietly.

Buck thinks he’s the most handsome man he’s ever seen, with his dark hair and tanned skin. His lean muscle and broad shoulders cut such a fine figure, Buck often finds his eyes caught upon them. 

And to add to that, he’s kind. And humble. And charming. Possibly the best man Buck has ever known. 

It makes him wonder, once again, how he got so incredibly lucky. He likes Eddie so very much.

Buck leaves Eddie in bed burrowed under the covers, easing his way out without waking him. He dresses quickly in the cold room, stopping to stoke the fire a bit, so the room is warm when Eddie wakes.

When he gets downstairs, he sees little flurries falling and the glass in the window is nearly covered in condensation. The house has become chilled overnight. He doesn’t go into the parlor, not wanting to wake the ranch hands, but stokes the fire in the sitting room before going into the kitchen.

He pushes open the door, coming to a halt, surprised when he finds Hen already sitting at the kitchen table, sipping from a mug.

“Good morning, she says, giving him a grin behind the rim of her cup.

“Good morning,” Buck returns, “Merry Christmas.”

“Indeed,” she says, lifting one brow, “Sleep well?”

“I did,” Buck’s happy to report, “And you?”

He moves to the percolator, happy that Hen already made coffee.

She hums behind him, “Not as well as you, I reckon.”

Buck’s stomach freezes and he turns to meet her gaze, “No?”

“I take it, once again, my sage advice fared you well?” She gives him a sly smile.

Buck decides to ignore her needling and doesn’t answer. He turns to add sugar to his coffee along with a splash of milk, stirring and taking a deep drink.

“You don’t want to share?” She asks from behind him, “You certainly shared last night well enough.”

Buck sputters, fumbling his cup, setting it down with a clack on the counter.

“Karen and I were quite impressed with your first go,” Hen says, voice teasing, “But the encore?” she tuts, “My, my, my.”

“Hen,” Buck says, turning around he whispers, “Please do… fuck off.”

That sets Hen to laughing, a tittering thing of delight, “I have never heard you swear before, Buck.”

Buck flushes scarlett, but refuses to be embarrassed and says primly, “I’m a married man, an experienced married man now, and I can swear if I like. Besides, this conversation warranted it, I think.”

Hen laughs again, loud and high, “Alright, alright. I do have one more question though.”

“What?” Buck asks.

“Is your tinderbox quite sore this morning?”

He snatches up a rag left on the counter after they cleaned up last night and throws it at her. Grinning at her peal of laughter all the while.

—

Later, when they’ve finished their coffee and he’s washed their mugs and spoons, Buck pauses.

Turning back to Hen he says, “Thank you. For your help. You’ve given me such wonderful companionship and I need you to know I cherish it.”

“You are most welcome,” she says, bumping her hip and against his, “I cherish our friendship too.”

He pulls her into a tight hug. Then he grins, looking down and moving to put away the clean dishes. Hen steps to the counter and starts on breakfast, breaking eggs into a bowl.

“Just to be sure,” she says, “It was good, yes? You enjoyed yourself?”

“Yes,” he admits, feeling a small blush on his cheeks, “Enough to go back for seconds.”

He revels in her burst of laughter then. All feels right in the world here with Hen, his friend, in his house, in his kitchen. 

Sometimes it’s hard to believe this is his life now.

—

By the end of January the daytime temperatures are decent, staying in the late 50’s. 

“Good morning,” Buck calls out, grinning as his girls run up to say hello,”Alright, ladies, let me through.”

He steps carefully into the chicken coop. He’d feel downright awful if he were to step on one. He begins scattering feed on the ground and pouring more into the feeders.

“It’s decent out today, wouldn’t you say?” He asks Pollyanna, stooping and running a hand down her back. He laughs as Mopsy jumps from a nesting box onto his shoulder. Lifting a hand, he gives her a scratch under the chin. He goes about checking the nesting boxes, gathering the usable eggs into a basket and putting the cracked ones on the ground for the chickens to feast on.

There’s a small stool in the coop and Buck perches himself upon it, long legs coming up to his chest and he has to stretch them out over the coop floor. He watches his girls peck at the feed, stroking over Anne when she comes near.

“There’s nothing there for you,” Buck says chuckling, shooing Flopsy away when she pecks at the cuff of his pants.

It’s nice out here with the chickens. Calm and peaceful. Just the sound of their quiet clucks and pecking in the dirt.

“I love it here,” he tells Wendy. He picks her up and plops her in his lap. She clucks as he strokes her back and he rewards her with another handful of feed that she eats from his palm.

“But I do miss my sister an awful lot,” he admits, “and the tailors in the city.”

He’s spent too many evenings mending holes in Christopher’s clothes and his fingertips are sore. He couldn’t be upset about it though. The boy’s adventurous spirit made Buck so happy. He’d much rather be mending holes for a joyful, thriving child than one made to sit and be still.

Chris had helped Buck name his chickens. Together they’d chosen names from the books they’d read together; Pollyanna, Wendy from Peter Pan, Anne from Anne of Green Gables, and Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail from The Tale of Peter Rabbit.

His favorite name was one Chris chose himself for a little brown hen. He’d proudly declared her Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle after a Beatrix Potter book.

“Maddie hasn’t written to me since I left home,” he tells Wendy. 

He hadn’t expected to hear from his mother or father. They’d barely acknowledged his existence when he lived at home. It’s no surprise they hadn’t written either, but not hearing from Maddie? That hurts.

Once again since his arrival, he wonders if he shouldn’t reach out. If it would be a bother. If she’s too busy running her own house to send a letter. 

Perhaps he’s being too self absorbed. He hasn’t written either, having been focused on learning the ins and outs of the ranch, raising a child, and getting through the holidays. Surely he should give her more grace.

“Alright,” he says decidedly, informing Wendy, “I’ll wait until the end of February, if I’ve not heard from her by then, I’ll reach out on my own.”

It makes him feel slightly better and though his chickens never reply, their clucks feel like reassurance that he’s chosen the right path.

He hears the door to the coop open, turning, he sees Eddie stepping inside with a grin.

“Comfortable?” he asks Buck.

“Hardly,” he replies, letting Wendy down. He shifted to stand and stretched out his back.

“What are you doing here?” Buck asks, throwing down the last of the chicken feed, “Thought you’d be gone until dinner.”

“I’m riding out to the silos today. Got to help load some corn for a farm down the way,” Eddie says, coming close and slipping a hand around his waist, “Thought you might like to ride with me. Get out a little bit.”

Buck grins, “That sounds nice.”

Eddie has been teaching him a bit here and there about riding. He enjoys it, but his favorite time on horseback is always the time spent behind Eddie, tight up against his back.

—

They ride out to the edge of the property, both astride the broad back of Eddie’s horse. 

The sky is huge and blue with wispy clouds of white dappled here and there. Buck is pressed in tight, holding on with his arms around Eddie’s waist. He buries his nose in Eddie’s neck, breathing deep.

“You hold on as tight as you want, darlin’,” Eddie says, keeping one hand on the reins and the other wrapped loosely around one of Buck’s arms.

Buck’s almost regretful when they arrive, not wanting to relinquish his grip, but he slides off the horse, looking up at the tall silos. There’s a few hands from the farm there with Ravi. Buck squints curiously at them, seeing Ravi taking a pitchfork and beating it against the outside of the chute of the tall brick structure.

“What’s going on here?” Eddie asks, walking over to Ravi.

“Damn thing’s stopped up,” Ravi says, still hitting it.

“Alright, alright,” Eddie says, grabbing at the pitchfork, “Give me that. Bring that wagon around here.”

Ravi does as he asks, pulling the wagon under the stopped up chute. Buck watches as Eddie climbs into the back, bringing himself closer to the mouth. He takes the pitchfork and pushes it inside, trying to knock loose whatever is keeping the corn inside. Little bits of corn come out, but not as they should. He hears Eddie swearing and watches as he shoves the pitchfork inside harder.

Buck can’t help but think there’d be a smarter way of doing this. Surely there’s something else they could do other than shoving a pitchfork inside. Standing directly under the chute probably isn’t the best idea either.

He’s about to make a suggestion when all of a sudden, a piece of the chute breaks off, flinging down and smacking into Eddie’s forehead. He falls back into the wagon, stunned and the corn rains down on him, covering him completely in second.

“Eddie!” Buck yells. He runs for the wagon as Ravi gets the horse going, moving the wagon out of the corn still pouring from the chute. The farmhands scramble after him, desperate to help, unlatching the back of the wagon to let corn stream out. 

His heart is pounding in his chest. He heaves himself up and over the side of the wagon, digging his hands into the corn yelling, “Eddie! Eddie!”

They dig and dig, shoveling handfuls of corn to the ground. Buck is worrying they're getting nowhere, until he sees a finger, then more. He digs around it, uncovering Eddie’s hand and then arm. Buck grasps it tight and is so relieved when it grasps him back.

Ravi helps dig out Eddie’s arm up to his shoulder. Buck comes around, shoving his hands under his shoulders and lifting until he finally uncovers Eddie’s face.

“God, Eddie, what the hell were you thinking?” Buck asks, bushing more corn off his chest and trying to haul him further out.

Eddie’s spitting corn kernels and has the audacity to grin up at him. He’s bleeding a bit from where the chute piece hit his head. He inspecs it closely, relieved to find it’s just a minor cut. 

But Buck is pissed.

Buck mutters under his breath as he starts pulling Eddie out, “Of all the dumb things you could do. And you called Ravi an idiot, but look at this mess. Jesus Christ. This was the stupidest thing you could have done.”

He’s angry. Well and truly mad as a wet hen. The idiocy of this whole situation could have been avoided with just a little thought. 

He’s livid as he helps Eddie out of the wagon. He stands back, watching as Eddie begins laughing with the other men, brushing corn from his hair, and pulling it out of his shirt pocket. 

He’s seething as Eddie pulls out a handkerchief, pressing it to his forehead. His husband tells the farmhands to load what they can back into the wagon and take it  home. They’re done for the day and need to wait for the chute to be repaired.

He’s fuming as Eddie sends him a grin and begins to walk over to him.

“You fucking idiot!” Buck bellows. He can’t hold it in any longer.

Eddie stops in his tracks, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. He winces at the pain the action causes.

Buck walks closer to him, pointing his finger into Eddie’s chest.

“That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen,” He says, lowering his voice when he notices Ravi glancing their way, “You could have died.”

“Buck,” Eddie says gently, grasping the hand pointing a finger at him, “Come on now. I’m alright.”

“What if you’re concussed?” Buck hisses, tearing his hand out of Eddie’s. He realizes his breath is a bit too labored.

“Buck, stop,” Eddie pleads, grabbing his shoulders, “Breathe, darlin’.”

“To hell with that!” Buck snaps, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

He rips away from Eddie’s grip, breath still panicked as he walks toward Eddie’s horse. The adrenaline filling him from seeing Eddie hurt and buried is starting to ebb away slowly. He can feel his arms and legs go a bit wobbly.

“Buck,” Eddie says again, following behind him, “I’m sor-”

Buck spins around, facing Eddie and moving in until he looms over him, “You can’t do stupid things like that, Eddie. You can’t take risks like that. For a moment… I… I was afraid I was only digging to find your body.”

Buck exhales hard, looking down at the ground. Maybe he’s overreacting, maybe he’s not. Seeing Eddie get beamed in the head and covered in pounds of corn was terrifying though. Things would have been much worse if Ravi hadn’t moved the wagon. The corn pouring down would have added more and more pressure onto Eddie until he couldn't breathe. It’s a horrifying thought.

“Get on the goddamned horse, Eddie,” Buck demands, “We’re going home.”

When he looks back up, he finds Eddie staring up at him, eyes wide, and lips parted.

“I’ll be damned,” Eddie says, stars in his eyes, “You sure care about me, something fierce.”

Buck scoffs, “Of course I do!”

He grabs Eddie’s hand, leading him to the horse. They both climb on. Buck is still behind Eddie, but this time, he stays upright, holding the reins, with his arms on either side of his husband. Only to make sure he’s ready to catch him in case he really is concussed and begins to fall.

They ride back to the house. It’s not as quickly as Buck would like, but he doesn’t want to jostle Eddie’s head any more.

“I like it when you swear,” Eddie says tentatively.

Buck is unamused. Though he can’t stop the warmth that fills him when Eddie leans his weight back into Buck’s chest and lowers a hand to grab his thigh.

“I really am alright,” he tries again, “My head’s not even tender, except for the cut. I don’t have a concussion.”

Buck hums his acknowledgement, but the reassurance does nothing to soothe his anger.

When they’re finally back, Buck helps Eddie down and marches him inside to the kitchen. His anger is only simmering now, not the full blown boil it had been.

“So fucking stupid,” he mutters again, pushing off Eddie’s suspenders and moving to unbutton his shirt. There’s a tiny bit of blood on it that’ll need washing and the man is covered in dust and dirt from the corn. 

Buck can feel his eyebrows are pinched together in frustration. When he looks up, Eddie’s eyes are mooning at him and the man doesn’t move to help.

So Buck continues, finishing unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders, starting a pile on the kitchen floor. He starts unbuttoning Eddie’s trousers when Eddie seems to come back to himself, moving his hands to help.

“I’ve got it,” Buck snaps. He’s going to take care of this infuriating man if it kills him.

Eddie drops his hands and Buck unfastens them, working them down his hips and letting them pool on the floor. Eddie toes off his boots and they’re discarded with the rest. He stands there in his drawers, grinning up at Buck.

“Are you quite happy with yourself?” Buck asks. He can’t stop the anger coursing through him again, the adrenaline rush ebbing away has left him feeling antsy and on edge. When he looks into Eddie’s face, he finds him staring at him again with some kind of openness there. Emotion is laid bare across his face- want and hunger.

Buck is surprised to see it. He’d been half expecting his husband to be angry with the way he’s reacted to this whole situation. Maybe to tell  him he was overreacting and being dramatic.

“Not quite,” Eddie says. Just as Buck starts to ask why, Eddie reaches up, tangles a hand in the hair at the back of his head and brings Buck’s mouth down to meet his own.

There’s no tenderness in the kiss, no gentle movement of mouths. It’s not anything like the kisses they’ve shared so far. It’s almost mean.

Eddie holds Buck’s hair tight, his other hand coming up to grip his jaw, moving him exactly where Eddie wants him. He takes a step forward, forcing Buck back and back until his thighs hit the kitchen table, making it skid and screech on the floor. 

Buck begins to stumble before he sits back on it. Eddie moves in immediately, coming to stand between Buck’s spread thighs, their lips still connected.

Eddie pulls away, kissing down Buck’s neck, “You taste so fucking good.”

Buck’s breath shudders out of him as Eddie sucks at the edge of his jaw like he’s starved for it. His mind grinds to a halt with Eddie touching him like this.

“You know what you look like?” Eddie asks, “You have any idea?”

“What?” Buck asks, confused and out of sorts. His cheeks are probably red and splotchy from how mad he was, hair probably a mess from the ride back.

“Every morning and every night, I see you and it kills me,” Eddie says, running his hands up Buck’s thighs, squeezing as he goes.

“My legs?” Buck gasps, trying to catch up.

Eddie groans, “All of you. Every inch.”

He drags his hands up Buck’s body, feeling up his sides and grabbing at his chest. 

Buck feels his cheeks throb with his blush.

“I like seeing you like this. Caring about me so damned much, swearin’ and spittin’ mad, waltzing around this house looking like everything I been wantin’.” Eddie says as he leans in, breath hot on Buck’s neck.

Something hot and shivery slithers down Buck’s spine, settling low in his belly. He pulls Eddie’s face from his neck, surges forward and kisses him. Eddie’s hands grasp at his waist pulling him closer.

They stay like that, kissing with Buck’s hands gripping the side of Eddie’s face and Eddie’s hands fisted in Buck’s shirt. When their kissing slows, Eddie’s hands travel down, smoothing over Buck’s sides and rubbing circles into his hips.

Buck’s breathless when they finally pull away. He’s panting a bit. He can feel the flush spreading down his chest and he’s growing hard between them.

“May I?” Eddie asks, voice ragged.

Buck’s not sure what he’s asking for, but he knows that it’s something he wants. He nods, eager.

Eddie moves one hand, sliding it over Buck’s thigh and over where he’s straining against the fabric of his trousers. He thumbs at the head of Buck’s cock through his pants, making his hips hitch. Eddie does it again and again until Buck hisses at the sensation.

“ Christ,” he says and when he looks up at Buck, he finds Buck’s lips parted and wet from being licked and his eyelids heavy.

Eddie begins unbuttoning the fastenings of Buck’s trousers, working each button from its hole, all the way down, pulling his drawers, until Buck’s cock is laid bare before him.

“Fuck, darlin’,” Eddie says, his eyes fixed on Buck’s cock where it’s curving up hard and red up against his stomach. Eddie wraps a hand around it, thumbing across the head again and smearing the slick gathered there. Buck keens, biting his lip and trying to keep quiet.

“Don’t,” Eddie says, “There’s no one here. Let me hear you.”

He kisses Buck again, a hot press of mouths, before moving down. He kisses Buck’s jaw, throat, sternum. He moves down, down, down until he’s kneeling before Buck, pressing kisses into the soft skin of his belly.

Buck watches, eyes wide, as Eddie opens his mouth and presses a kiss to the underside of his cock, trailing his lips up and licking over the head. Eddie’s eyes are closed and Buck lets out a broken gasp when he wraps his lips around Buck’ cock and sucks. He’s never felt anything like this before. The sensation flits through him and his hips buck up on their own accord, forcing Eddie to pull back.

“Easy there,” he says. He grasps Buck’s hips with both hands, pressing him back into the table.

The feeling of Eddie’s strength sends a shock up Buck’s spine and he mumbles, “Sorry.”

Eddie takes him into his mouth again and Buck wonders at the act. He’d been taught it was base to perform, not a proper thing to indulge in. He finds he doesn’t care one fucking bit right now because if it feels this good, it could never be wrong.

He reaches a hand down to thread through Eddie’s hair. Eddie moans, looking up, and the picture is so attractive combined with the vibrations of his moan, that Buck can’t help the sound that leaves him.

Eddie pulls back slowly, mouthing at Buck’s cock before pressing his face into his hip, nipping at the skin.

“I wanted to do that on our wedding night,” he says into Buck’s skin, “Wanted to suck you so bad, but I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Yeah?” Buck asks, feeling like he’s tingling. He can’t be sure how he would have handled it then, but now having experienced Eddie’s mouth, he knows he’ll want it again. His eyes get caught on Eddie’s lips, red and shiny. He wants to lick at them.

Eddie sits up, pulling at Buck’s jacket, “Take this off.”

Buck begins stripping it off, desperate to be undressed. He starts working on the buttons of his shirt, pulling the straps of his suspenders down after it’s halfway unbuttoned, having forgotten them in his hurry.

Eddie watches all the while, smirking at Buck’s haste and kissing him now and again, pressing his mouth to his neck, his chest, his stomach. He’s getting in the way.

“Eddie,” he hisses, grabbing the back of Eddie’s hair and pulling until he’s looking at Buck, eyes dark and liquid, “Take. Your. Clothes. Off.”

Eddie groans, “I like you like this, all demanding.” 

He gets to his feet, stepping back and pulling his undershirt over his head. He shucks his drawers to the floor, standing naked as the day he was born before Buck.

“Good?” he asks, smirking and coming to stand between Buck’s thighs again.

Buck nods, hands stilling as he looks his fill. The man is gorgeous, golden skin clinging to his muscles, sprinkled with dark hair. His hands dart up, dragging across Eddie’s chest, down his torso, cupping and squeezing all the way. When he reaches Eddie’s cock, he wraps his hand around it, stroking and wringing a groan from him. 

“Get your clothes off,” Eddie says, looking like he regrets stepping away. Buck stands up to strip as Eddie watches, eyes never straying.

Buck hurries out of his shirt and undershirt, wobbling as he pushes his trousers and drawers down. They get trapped at his feet and he kicks his shoes off, lifting the whole mess with his foot and slinging it away.

“Goddamn,” Eddie says, when Buck’s seated naked on the table, legs spread.

He approaches, swaggering. Buck moves to turn around but Eddie grabs him behind the knee and drags him until they’re groin to groin, Buck’s ass barely on the edge of the table. 

“I want to see your pretty face as I take you,” he says.Then he leans Buck back on the tabletop and sets to preparing him.

“So fucking wet,” he groans as he rubs his fingers over Buck’s hole, pushing one inside. 

Buck’s used to this by now and finds himself melting into every touch, relaxing fast and letting Eddie in. He pants when Eddie pushes his fingers deep, leaning over him to suck marks into his chest. 

Buck grabs at his hair again and brings him into a filthy kiss, wet and slick. He wraps his arms around Eddie to keep him there, licking and sucking at his mouth, until Eddie pulls back to enter him.

He thrusts inside, setting a quick pace, and he groans while Buck keens at the feeling. Eddie wraps Buck’s legs around his hips, and wraps his hands around Buck’s waist pulling him back into Eddie’s thrusts.

It only takes a few more pushes before Eddie comes panting and moaning. He pulses his hips a few more times, reaching down and wrapping a hand around Buck’s cock stroking until Buck spends across his stomach.

They rest there, panting and gazing upon one another. Eventually after their breath has eased, Buck sits up and presses another kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“How’d it look?” he asks.

“Hm?”

“My face,” he clarifies.

Eddie cups a hand to his cheek, “Beautiful. Just like I thought it would.”

Buck beams up at him, utterly charmed. He knows they need to get cleaned up. He needs to clean the cut on Eddie’s head thoroughly. They should get dressed before anyone comes to find them, but he settles against Eddie’s chest for a moment, giving them some time to collect themselves.

He’s never going to be able to look at this table the same way again.

Chapter Text

“Good day, Mr. Christopher,” Buck says, holding an apple, “I would like to purchase this fine apple.”

He shows Chris the apple, turning it in his hand, “How much does one apple cost?”

“One penny,” Chris says, trying to act serious and struggling to keep the grin off his face.

“Alright, that’s a fair price,” Buck says, nodding, “If I want to buy three apples, how many pennies would that cost?”

Chris hems and haws, looking down at the table laden with pennies, nickels, and dimes.

They’ve just finished breakfast and put the dishes in the sink. As they wait for Hen to take Chris and the Wilson children to school, they’ve been practicing counting money and simple addition with coins.

Christopher has really enjoyed it, having great fun playing with all the coins and pretending to own his own general store.

Buck loves seeing the pure joy on his face as they play and learn together. It had been no hardship to do this with him each morning this week.

“That’ll be…” Chris hums again, counting out coins, “Three pennies!”

“That’s correct,” Buck chirps with glee, leaning over to run his hand through the boy's hair, around his ear, and along his cheek, “I think five correct answers deserves a reward, don’t you, Pa?”

Buck looks at the other end of the dining room table. Eddie has been sitting there, reading his newspaper and pretending not to be watching their antics. Buck knows better though. He’s been hearing the snorts of stifled laughter from Eddie as Chris tries to swindle him out of his money.

“Yes,” Eddie says, straightening his newspaper, eyes peering over at Buck and Christopher, “I believe a penny for a candy from the general store would do nicely.”

Christopher cries out in happiness and plucks the shiniest penny from the table. Just then, they hear Hen’s wagon pull up to the front of the house.

Eddie folds his paper, looking at his son, “Take two more, Chris. One each for Denny and Mara.”

Christopher gathers his pennies, yelling his thanks. He presses a kiss to Buck’s cheek, before slinging his school bag over his back and walking out the door.

Buck follows behind him, standing in the doorway to wave to Hen, before closing it and retreating to the dining room.

He presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s cheek, saying “So soft” and moving into the kitchen. He hears Eddie follow him.

“Saw you finally moved your things over,” Eddie says, Buck can hear the grin in his voice.

Buck had done it yesterday, stowing away his clothing in the armoire and dresser Eddie used in his room. He’d set his personal effects on top of the chest of drawers and the fireplace mantle. 

Eddie hadn’t gotten in until late in the evening when Buck was readying bed. He’d been exhausted and passed right out. It’s no wonder he didn’t notice until this morning.

“Perhaps they needed more room,” Buck says matter of factly, facing away from Eddie as he works over the sink, scrubbing dishes, “ And perhaps I grew tired of going between our rooms for everything.”

Eddie hums, coming up behind and enfolding Buck’s waist in his arms, “I liked seeing your things in our room.”

Our room , Buck thinks. He turns around in Eddie’s hold, wrapping his arms around the broad shoulders before him.

It is their room. His and Eddie’s. It should have been their room all along, but he isn’t sore about it. He’s happy that it’s full now of their things and their clothing. His books are on the nightstand and his dressing gown is over the back of the chair. It’s their bed and it smells of them. Both of them.

Buck stares down into Eddie’s eyes and says, “I like that.”

Eddie asks, “Like what?”

“Our room,” Buck says, moving a strand of hair away from Eddie’s forehead, “ I like the sound of that. Of it being ours.”

Eddie gives him that soft smile, cupping his face, “I do too.”

Buck gives him a grin and turns back around, rinsing their dishes from breakfast.

“You know what else I like?” Eddie asks behind him.

“What?” Buck asks, hands working.

He rests his forehead against Buck’s shoulder, mumbling, “I like the way you run this house.”

“Do you?” he asks, trying to peek at Eddie over his shoulder.

Eddie runs his hands up and down Buck's sides, “You really take care of things around here, Buck. Not just the cooking and chores. You took care of Ravi during his bout of idiocy. You knew exactly what to do without being asked. You invited everyone to stay with us for the holidays. You’ve become Hen’s best friend.”

Buck swallows, wondering, Is that true? She’s certainly mine.

He feels Eddie grin against his shoulder, “You pulled me out of that corn that day at the silo, quicker than anyone else. You’ve taken care of Christopher and treated him like he’s your own. You’ve bonded with him in a way I could never have imagined and you never try to hold him back or treat him differently. You do such a good job around here. I know we had some hardship your first month here but-”

“Enough,” Buck can feel the heat blossoming across his face. He can’t take the praise. He’s never had it heaped on him like this.

“Buck,” Eddie says, turning him around and cupping Buck’s jaw in his hand, “You’ve made this house, this ranch , truly feel like a home. Not just for me and Christopher. For everybody.”

Buck looks at the floor, swallowing, “I think you give me too much credit.”

“I don’t,” Eddie answers, leaning in to kiss his cheek, “I give you just the right amount.”

—

That evening, Buck bathed Christopher and got him tucked into bed with a story. They’ve been reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Buck took great pleasure in their discussion of dodo birds and mad hatters.

When he returns to the sitting room, he finds Eddie at his desk. There’s a book open across it and papers scattered beneath. He watches as Eddie scribbles something down. There’s a smudge of ink on the side of his hand.

“Eddie,” Buck says, moving across the room to pick up his book from the couch and sit.

His husband grunts in response, but doesn’t look up.

“Eddie,” Buck says again, watching as Eddie sticks his tongue out of the side of his mouth, eyes glued to the book before him, finger following along across the page.

Buck fiddles with the ribbon sticking out from between the pages of his book, before setting it back against the cushion and standing.

Eddie doesn’t look up as he approaches the desk. He’s deeply focused on his reading and when Buck steps behind his chair, he doesn’t stop scrawling down another note. Buck trails his hands over Eddie’s shoulders and down to his chest, leaning into his back and pressing his face to his neck.

“Eddie,” Buck says again.

Eddie stops then, giving a questioning “Hm?” His pen leaks a drop of ink onto his papers, the black dot spreading out with little veins. Buck reaches out, taking the pen from his hand and sets it off to the side.

“I’d like to purchase a small chalkboard and chalk for Christopher,” he says, “Like the ones they have at school. I think it would be beneficial for his arithmetic practice and handwriting.”

“Alright,” Eddie says, “Whatever you think is best.”

“Thank you,” Buck says, pressing his face in to breathe against the side of Eddie’s neck.

He kisses his way down, dragging his lips to the top of Eddie’s shirt collar and back again until he reaches his ear.

“Anything else?” Eddie asks.

Buck smiles against the skin behind Eddie’s ear. He’d figured Eddie wouldn’t deny him. It pleases him to know he was right.

Buck hums, “Perhaps a new book to read as well?”

He sets his teeth to the edge of Eddie’s ear, nipping at the flesh, until Eddies makes a soft broken sound.Then he drags them down, pulling off with a gentle tug.

“Course,” he answers, swallowing heavily.

Buck presses a final kiss to Eddie’s cheek. Standing up, he straightens his shirt and begins to walk back to the couch.

“Thank you,” he says, throwing Eddie a grin as he begins to round the desk.

“Hold on now,” Eddie says, catching Buck’s wrist, stopping his retreat.

“Hm?” Buck asks, arching an eyebrow and smothering a smile.

Eddie arches his eyebrow right back, “Where are you going?”

“Back to my book,” he answers, motioning to the couch.

“And you’re leaving me here like this?” Eddie says, motioning to his lap with his free hand.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Buck says slyly.

“Oh,” Eddie chuckles, “I think you most certainly do.”

“Hmm,” Buck contemplates, “Ravi and Albert are just through there.”

He nods to the parlor. Ravi and Albert’s bedding in the barn had gotten soaked through. They’d had a hard rain and a hole had opened up in the barn roof over their bunks. 

Buck couldn’t in good conscience make the hands sleep on soaking wet down. The bunk pads were taking quite long to dry out. So Buck had ensured the hands made themselves at home in the parlor. They should only be sleeping there another day or so.

Despite he and Eddie’s increasingly frequent coupling since Christmas, they haven’t been able to in the last few days. With Eddie being dreadfully busy around the ranch and the ranch hands staying in their parlor, there has been little opportunity for intimacy. Add to that the fact that Buck now knows they’ll be heard, what with their bedroom being directly over the parlor. 

He watches as Eddie thinks the situation over.

“Meet me in the cellar in five,” he says.

—

Eddie has Buck pressed to the cold, stone wall and a thigh shoved between his legs, kissing up his neck and across his jaw.

“God, I’ve missed you,” Eddie pants.

He winds his fingers through Buck’s hair and tugs until Buck tilts his head back and exposes more of his throat for Eddie’s mouth. It feels so good having Eddie on him like this, pressing him back into the wall.

Eddie unfastens Buck’s trousers, pushing them down to his knees. 

“Get this out,” Buck demands, reaching to unfasten Eddie’s trousers and grab at his cock.

Eddie pushes Buck’s hand away, pushing his trousers down and pulling himself out over the top of his drawers. He’s strikingly hard, cock red and wet at the tip. Buck licks his lips, mouth watering.

“Turn around,” Eddie says, encouraging Buck to face the wall and bend at the waist. He does, shuffling his pants to his feet and pressing his elbows to the wall.

“Fuck, yeah. That’s a pretty picture,” Eddie says, smoothing his hands over Buck’s back and sides.

Buck pants, little exhales across the stone wall. He’s ready, so ready, for this.

Behind him, Eddie touches him, palming over his ass with broad hands. He dips his fingers between Buck’s cheeks and spreads the wetness he finds there around his rim.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Buck takes a gulp of air as Eddie presses in with one finger. He feels like he’s dripping in his readiness. It’s as if his body has finally realized it can and wants to produce its own slick for their coupling and doesn’t want to stop. He finds that sometimes just thinking of Eddie will make him wet. 

He’d be embarrassed over it, if it weren’t for Eddie’s great relish in it. Which seems to only make it worse.

Eddie pushes in with two fingers, “Oh, darlin’. This is heaven.”

Buck groans at the feeling when Eddie’s fingers massage over that spot deep inside. He doesn’t think he can wait much longer and is pleased when his husband rushes through stretching him.

Finally, Eddie moves to push into him, cock sliding right in and pushing a bit of slick out to dribble down Buck’s thigh. It’s filthy.

“Gonna have to be quiet,” Eddie says, “Think you can?”

Buck nods. Of course he can.

It’s fine at first, Buck panting open-mouthed as Eddie fucks into him. The short, punching thrusts have his knees shaking.

Then Eddie adjusts his grip on Buck’s hips, pulling Buck forcefully back onto his cock at an angle that has Eddie pushing into that spot inside of him. He feels like his eyes cross and he can’t swallow the moan that bursts from his mouth.

Eddie shushes him, but doesn’t let up.

Buck bites at his lip and tries to hold it in, but it’s been days and Eddie is doing a very good job.

“Ah, ah, Eddie, so good,” Buck pants out, determined to shower him with at least a little praise.

He sets his palms open against the stone and pushes his hips back, meeting Eddie thrust for thrust.

“Jesus, Buck, you-” Eddie grits out, thrusting thrice more, before spending deep inside him.

Buck presses his cheek hard to the stone, panting against it as his whole body throbs. He’s wet and aching and wanting for his own satisfaction.

“One second, darlin’,” Eddie says, slumping over Buck and breathing heavily into the back of his shirt. His hands shake as they smooth up Buck’s sides.

He pulls out slowly, his come spilling out and rolling down Buck’s thigh. Buck shouldn’t like it, the way he can feel Eddie’s spend running down just as his own slick did. 

But he does. He likes the filthiness of it.

Eddie’s knees hit the floor behind him. Buck gasps and before he can look back and see what Eddie’s doing, his mouth in on him.

Oh God.

Christ.

Buck hadn’t known the things mouths were capable of before Eddie had shown him.

He liked everything about Eddie’s mouth. His soft smiles, his smirks, the way it felt pressed against his own or his skin, locked around his cock. Everything.

But this was new.

Eddie groans against him, tongue sliding out and around Buck’s rim before pressing inside. He’s a trifle sore from Eddie taking him so vigorously, but this soothes that ache. Feels more like pressing into a bruise. Buck arches into it, reaching back to hold one cheek open, giving Eddie deeper access to his most private part.

“Eddie,” he gasps out, but he has no idea what to say after that, “Eddie I-”

Eddie pulls back just to say, “Yeah, baby, give it to me.”

He licks from Buck’s balls up to his hole. He laps at it, before reaching around to stroke over Buck’s cock, quick and firm.

Buck’s toes curl and his eyes screw shut as his release rolls through him. He bites down hard on his lip to keep quiet, but then he gasps out and exhales hard as he comes against the wall.

Eddie hums into him, pushing back inside with his tongue, sliding over Buck’s opening, pressing in over and over until Buck has to reach back, pushing him away.

His body wants to go limp, sagging against the wall. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears and he feels like he’s buzzing from fingers to toes. 

“Eddie,” he tries again, voice ragged.

“I’ve got you, darlin’,” Eddie says, standing up and rubbing at Buck’s hip.

He cleans Buck up, before pulling up his drawers and trousers, turning him around.

He sags into Eddie’s body, loving the feel of Eddie’s arms wrapping around him

“Was I quiet?” he asks and Eddie snorts.

“Yeah, sweetheart. You were real quiet.”

Buck realizes this is the first time Eddie has ever lied to him.

He’s alright with it.

—

One morning at the end of February, Buck wakes and the bed is cold and empty. When he sits up, the fire’s been stoked and burns gently.

It’s early yet, but he’s eager to find where his husband has gotten to.

He gets dressed and heads down. The hall is dark, but some light seeps out from under the sitting room door. Eddie is sitting at his desk, reading over papers when Buck walks in.

He looks up, offering Buck a “Good morning” before refocusing on what he’s reading, shuffling the papers around.

Buck comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, “How did you sleep?”

“Good,” Eddie says, bringing a hand up to hold one of Buck’s, running his thumb across his knuckles.

Buck leans in, pressing kisses to Eddie’s neck.

“You’re insatiable,” Eddie chuckles, “You just had me last night.”

Buck hums, “And now it’s a new day.”

Eddie leans back, hand moving to find Buck’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. He shifts, forcing Buck to let go, turning his chair around so he faces him.

“It’s going to be a good day then,” Eddie says, grabbing Buck’s hips and bringing him forward between his legs.

Buck smiles as Eddie pushes his shirt up to mouth at his belly, one hand grasping at his ass, the other letting go of his shirt, to rub at his groin.

A good day indeed.

Buck is in the kitchen after they’ve finished their dalliance, starting breakfast before Christopher gets up. He’s just begun stirring eggs, when Eddie clears his throat behind him.

“Your father has written,” he says.

Buck feels his stomach drop and turns to face him. Eddie’s standing back against the counter, arms crossed.

“What about?” Buck asks.

“He…” Eddie trails off. He tries again like he’s trying to soften a blow for Buck, “He writes about your sister. Her husband contracted consumption. He passed away four weeks ago.”

“Is Maddie alright?” He asks, breath catching in his chest, “Is she ill as well?”

He doesn't really care about Doug. It's incredibly rude of him to feel that way, but he'd never truly liked the man. He always found him off putting and oddly intense, especially about matters concerning his sister. The steely glint of the man’s eyes always disturbed him somehow.

“She's in good health,” Eddie says, sounding reassuring. He walks to Buck, taking his hands between them.

“She has moved to your family home in Hershey. Your father writes to say she has gone into mourning,” Eddie tells him, running his thumbs over Buck’s knuckles, “There was a separate note for you.”

He lets go of one of Buck’s hands to reach into his pocket. He pulls out a small folded paper, sealed with wax, his name is scrawled in neat, looping script on the outside. He takes it, pulling away from Eddie and moving to the light from the window over the sink.

He takes a breath, breaking the seal with his finger, and opens the note.

Evan,

I know father informed your husband of what occurred. I’ve entered into mourning and our parents have refused to let me send for you. They’ve declined to allow me to have company outside the family. They say it’s improper.

I’ve slipped this note into father’s letter to your husband. I can only hope it makes it’s way into your hand.

I’m sorry to ask, I don’t wish to be a burden on you, but if possible, please come. I need you, brother. 

Please-

Maddie

“She asks that I come to her,” Buck says, struggling to keep his voice even.

He’s overcome with worry for her. His poor sister has lost her husband and is now subjected to what is most likely a silent and lonely mourning. He simply can’t leave her to the whims of their parents.

He looks at Eddie, “She says she needs me.”

Eddie nods, taking the note and reading it himself. Buck watches as his eyebrows gather in concern.

“Might be a week before we can get you on a train,” he says, “I won’t be able to go with you. The mare’s are almost ready for breeding and I’ve got to plow the fields for planting.”

“But I can go?” Buck asks, wringing his hands.

Eddie places the note down, stepping forward to engulf Buck in a tight hug.

“Course you can,” he says, pressing a kiss to Buck’s neck.

—

The night before Buck is due to leave, he bathes. He takes his time with it, washing his hair thoroughly and rubbing oils into his skin. By the time he’s finished, Eddie has long retired to the bedroom.

Buck slips through the front hall and up the stairs to their room, hair wet and body wrapped in his dressing gown.

As expected, Eddie is in bed, lying under a quilt, shirtless and propped against the headboard, an oil lamp lit beside him on the nightstand. The fire is lit in the hearth to ward off the slight chill of night. 

“Have a good bath?” he asks as Buck closes the door behind himself.

Buck nods, “I did.”

Eddie closes the book he had open in his lap when Buck approaches the bed. Buck stops at the edge of the bed, knees pressing into the side. He reaches out and plucks the book from Eddie’s hands, placing it on the nightstand.

“Yes?” Eddie asks, looking up at him. He’s got a smug grin on his face, almost like he knows what Buck wants, what he’s about to do.

Buck slips a finger under the tie of his dressing gown, pulling until it undoes and the gown falls open. He hopes he looks good to Eddie, with his pale skin pinked from the hot bath and soft from the oil.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck nods.

He climbs onto the bed, straddling Eddie and meeting him in the middle when he pushes up for a kiss.

He feels desperate for his husband. The impending stress of going back to Hershey is heavy upon him, but going without Eddie for days will be worse.

He touches Eddie’s arms, hands gripping at his shoulders, smoothing downward until he’s pressing his fingers harshly into his biceps.

“Come on,” he says, pulling back just enough to get his mouth on Eddie’s jaw, nipping at the skin there. 

“Can’t do much like this, darlin’,” Eddie says, tilting his head and letting Buck mouth at his neck, “Got me pinned.”

Buck sits back, settling his weight onto Eddie’s thick thighs. His husband is still beneath the quilt, stuck between the bedclothes and the weight of Buck’s body.

“Hm,” Buck hums. He leans back in, kissing Eddie and grinding down, delighting when he feels Eddie buck up, canting his hips into him.

“Want me to let you up?” he asks, not missing the way Eddie’s pupils blow wide.

Eddie hums, running his hands up Buck’s thighs, “You want it like this?”

Buck tilts his head, thinking about it. He sits up, slipping his dressing gown from his shoulders and letting it pool atop the quilt.

“No,” he says, deciding, “Like this.”

He moves off Eddie’s lap to the empty side of the bed, sinking forward until he’s on all fours, looking at his husband beside him.

“Fuck, yeah, alright,” Eddies says as he scrambles free of the blanket and shoves down his drawers.

He settles, naked, behind Buck and touches him, groaning when he finds him already wet.

“Fuck, baby,” he says.

Buck pushes back into Eddie’s hand, gasping when Eddie thrusts two fingers. He was still a bit loose from their morning coupling and he pushes back again into the feeling.

He glances back at Eddie to find his husband staring at him. At his body. At his opening. He feels a flush fill his cheeks.

“Are you going to stare or give me more?” Buck asks, impatient.

“Sorry, darlin’. Just taking in the view,” he says, taking a moment to stretch Buck around his two fingers before adding another.

“Well don’t take all day,” Buck says, reveling in the pleasure filling him as Eddie pushes his fingers deep.

Eddie sucks his teeth.

“I could look at you all day, every day,” he says.

It makes Buck feel a little hysterical. There’s a scoff, a laugh filling his chest, fighting to get out, but he swallows it down. He’s never in his life felt attractive until Eddie. The man makes him feel beautiful and he finds he doesn’t want to detract from that.

“Eddie,” Buck whines, sinking down until his upper body is leaning against the bed. He knows now what he looks like in this position, what it does to Eddie when he sees him like this.

“Alright, I’ve got you,” Eddie says, slipping his fingers from Buck.

He has only a moment to feel empty, and then Eddie is there, pushing in and filling him up the way Buck likes best.

“Fuck, Eddie,” he pants, fingers and toes curling, skin feeling tight. He can’t believe how good this is, how good this feels every single time.

“That’s right, darlin’,” Eddie says, from above him. He wraps his hands around Buck’s hips and grips tight. He pulls out until just the head of his cock is still inside Buck.

Buck wonders at the tight grip Eddie has on his hips. He might bruise later. He hopes he does. It’ll be a good reminder of what he’s coming home to while he gets through his time in Hershey.

Eddie pushes back in. It’s fast, so fast. He fucks into Buck with short, rough thrusts.

Buck gasps at the feeling. All he can focus on is the way Eddie feels inside of him, the slick sounds of their bodies moving together in the dark. He can hear the harshness of his own breathing at the pounding of Eddie’s hips.

It’s too much, but not nearly enough.

“Eddie,” Buck gasps after a while, pushing up onto his hands, feeling unsteady.

“What do you need, darlin’?” Eddie pants, out of breath. Buck can feel his thighs shaking with exertion.

“Harder?” he asks, “Maybe more?”

“More?” Eddie repeats, “Yeah, fuck, I can do that.”

Buck is surprised when Eddie slips an arm around his belly, pulling him up until he’s sitting on Eddie’s lap, his thighs spread open over Eddie’s legs.

“ Oh,” he gasps, gripping onto the forearm holding his body upright.

He slides further onto Eddie’s cock, sinking it deeper inside his body. He tosses his head back against Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Eddie says into his neck. “That’s it.”

Buck nods hard. He feels impaled. It’s good, so very very good.

Eddie thrusts up a handful of times, using his arm around Buck to bring him down into it. Buck grinds down, letting his body weight help the movement, pressing the head of Eddie’s cock insistently against that spot deep inside. That’s all it takes for him to come, spend streaking up his belly and over Eddie’s arm where he’s still holding Buck close.

“Christ,” Eddie gasps, pressing his face into Buck’s neck as he spends deep inside him.

He pulls out slowly, helping Buck settle on the bed and watching as he stretches out. Eddie moves to sit at the edge of the bed, taking a breath.

Buck feels smug as he watches Eddie stand and wobble his way unsteadily across the room to the basin and water pitcher they keep there. He wets a rag.

“You wore me plum out, sweetheart,” Eddie says, coming back to the bed and cleaning Buck quickly. He throws the rag back to the basin, then collapses face first into his pillow.

“It’s gonna be a long couple a weeks without you,” he mumbles into the pillow. He’s snoring a moment later, passed out on top of the quilt.

Buck strokes a hand down his back before working the quilt out from beneath his husband and pulling it over him.

“It certainly will,” he says, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s head and settling in to sleep.

—

The sky is dark and cold, thunder rumbling overhead, when they reach the train depot in El Paso.

It feels nothing like the day Buck first arrived when the fields were green and lush with warmth and the skies were spanning vast and blue.

Everything around the depot is dead. Just brown and dry and cold.

“Albert will look after my girls?” Buck asks again.

He knows the answer. Albert will take excellent care of his chickens. Hen will look in on them and give Buck’s special girls a pet. The whole ranch will run just fine without him, no doubt. 

“He will,” Eddie says, running his hands down the lapels of Buck’s jacket, “We’ve got it handled. You just take care of yourself and your sister.”

Buck tucks his head, “Alright.”

Christopher wraps his hands around Buck’s leg then.

“We’ve got it handled, Buck. I promise,” he gives Buck a wide, bright grin.

Buck runs a hand through the boy's hair, before bending down and enveloping him in a hug.

“I’ll miss you so much,” he says, into Chris’s shoulder.

“I’ll miss you too,” Chris says, patting Buck’s back, “But you won’t be gone long.”

“That’s right,” Buck says, moving back and looking at his sweet face, “I won’t be gone long at all. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Chris replies, squeezing Buck’s shoulders.

He presses a kiss to Christopher’s head before standing up. The train has long since pulled into the station. He knows he needs to board soon, but he isn't in a hurry, lingering with his little family as long as he can.

A porter comes along asking, “Going to Hershey?”

Buck nods, holding out his ticket and letting him check it, then he hands over his bags for the porter to load.

Fourteen days. Two weeks, he’ll be gone. Ten days in Hershey and four spent traveling. Enough, hopefully, to help his sister through the worst of her mourning, but not enough to wear out his welcome at his family’s home.

It seems like an eternity to him.

“You’ll be back in no time,” Eddie reassures him, leaning up to press a kiss to Buck’s cheek and then his mouth. He pulls away much too fast for Buck’s liking.

Buck reaches out, grabbing him by the jacket, bringing him close, one hand coming up to cup his jaw. He kisses Eddie again, slow and thorough, hoping it says everything he can’t for fear of becoming emotional.

“I’ll miss you something fierce, darlin’,” Eddie says when he pulls away.

Buck’s lips are tingling with want and his heart already feels homesick. He does not want to leave.

The train blows its whistle.

“I’d best go,” Buck says, leaning forward and resting his forehead against Eddies, “But I’ll be back soon.”

He says it to remind himself once again that this isn’t forever. 

“Yes, you will,” Eddie says.

He presses a kiss to Buck’s forehead, then reaches out to gather Chris to them. All three wrap their arms around each other in one big hug.

“Write to me?” Eddie asks, as they all pull away.

Buck nods, swallowing heavily.

“About anything,” Eddie says, insistently.

“Alright, I will,” Buck says. 

The train whistles again, loudly.

“Go on then,” Eddie says, squeezing Buck’s shoulder, “The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll return.”

Buck takes a long look at his husband and stepson, burning their images into his mind. Christopher’s sweet grin and charming, round glasses. Eddie’s hair falling over his forehead and the dimples of his smile.

Something surprisingly heavy and whole settles into his chest, steady and sure and right. That emotion that’s been on the edge of his feelings for his husband, he suddenly knows its name. Knows what it is. He won’t say it yet. Not now when he’s leaving, but soon.

“Two weeks,” he says.

“Two weeks,” Eddie repeats.

Buck gets on the train, taking a seat and looking out the window. He finds Eddie and Christopher on the platform and waves to them. They wave back, Eddie offers him a small smile before sliding his hand down and around Christopher’s shoulders.

They watch each other until the train pulls out of the station, Chris waving all the while.  He continues to stare out the window, even after he can no longer make out their faces.

He keeps looking back even when the station is nothing more than a smudge on the horizon, until it’s long gone and all his vision is filled with wide, open plains of dead grass and that same dark, grey sky.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Buck arrives in the city and Hershey is loud and crowded in a way he hadn’t really been aware of before. He feels as though he wants to flinch away from it, along with the frigid chill of the northern winter wind.

He books a ride back to his family’s home and when faced with the driver’s look of distaste as the man’s eyes catch upon his birthmark, he feels on edge. Nothing like that has happened to him in months and he wants, so badly, to turn right around and book a ticket back to Texas.

The carriage his family could have sent wasn't an option, since they weren’t aware he was coming. The small cart he boards reminds him of the one at home, but the city around him makes him feel stifled in a way he hasn’t for so long. The buildings cut off the skyline and loom over him. The brick streets are cold and grey, littered with dirty snow. 

He desperately misses the vast skies and fields of Texas and the warmth he feels there, even in the dead of winter. His heart is pounding with anxiety by the time he pulls up in front of the hulking, extravagant Buckley house.

He thanks the driver, paying him well, and lugs his bags to the front door.

Before he can knock, the front door swings open, his father emerging and closing it behind him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks in a hushed voice. He must have seen Buck arrive from the window.

“I’m here for Maddie,” Buck states, “To support her in her time of mourning.”

Phillip hums and looks Buck over, almost studying him, “You look… well.”

He sees his father’s eyes pause on his belly. Buck can’t quite make out what he’s looking for. Phillip’s mouth turns down at the corners, like he’s disappointed in something. Buck’s stomach twists at the all too familiar look.

“Shall we?” Phillip asks, gesturing towards the house.

Buck feels very young again, not like the grown, married man that left the train depot in El Paso only two days ago. 

He nods and follows his father inside, head hung and staring down at his shoes as he passes over the threshold. Each click across the shining marble floor echoes with emptiness.

Twelve days , he reminds himself, Twelve days then I’ll be home.

—

Maddie greets him, swathed in a plain black dress. She’s not wearing her mourning face veil, as would have been proper, and he’s surprised to see her giving him a small smile. He goes easily into her outstretched arms, hugging her tightly until he can’t any longer.

“I’m so sorry, Maddie,” he says earnestly.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” she says, ignoring his apology and pressing her face into his chest.

Her hair smells of rose oil and he breathes her in deep.

“I see you’ve gotten some sun,” she says when she pulls back, holding his chin and turning his head side to side.

“Yes,” he agrees, but he’s puzzled. 

This was not at all how he thought he would find her.  She seems perfectly fine. Not at all like a widow in mourning.

“Lunch is only just ready, if you’re hungry,” she says, sweeping an arm behind her and into the main hall of the house.

Buck isn’t sure what to make of her as they sit across from each other in the dining room. The highly polished, mahogany table stretches far between them and Buck realizes it’s been months since he’s eaten this far from another person. The dining table at the ranch is much smaller in comparison, but even if it were large, Eddie has always insisted on sitting right beside him. Buck misses him and his proximity immensely.

He looks down when a servant places consomme in front of him. He hates it immediately, longing for the heartier meals he serves at the ranch. Maddie smiles at him from across the table and he dutifully raises a spoonful to his mouth.

Lunch is quiet, the scraping of their silver spoons is loud against the fine china bowls.  The absence of their parents is noticed, but not unwanted. Buck is glad for it, actually.

When they retire to the music room, he is surprised when Maddie moves to sit at the piano there. She offers him another small smile, but her expression appears drawn. She’s always been beautiful when she smiles, but Buck can see the sadness weighing her down. It pulls at the edges of her, like an ink stain that’s bled and been blotted out.

“Maddie-,” he starts, but he’s cut off.

“A duet?” she asks, scooting over to one side of the piano bench.

He sighs, moving to sit with her. He hasn’t played piano since well before he left for Texas. He was never very good at it and Eddie never asked for him to play at the ranch. He probably isn’t even aware that Buck can play.

“Mozart’s Sonata for two?” she asks, already lifting the sheet music.

“Fine,” he agrees, stifling another sigh.

Buck has always found playing tedious, as a boy he wished instead to run and play with the neighborhood children rather than while away the time in pointless practice. They’d spent hours running through songs as children. Their mother would invite her social circle to luncheons that Buck and Maddie were never allowed to take part in. Only there to entertain and be cooed over by the ladies of society.

Buck tries to shake the memories from his head as they sit and play. He is only glad there is no audience now, as his hands trip clumsily over the keys until the piece is done.

“Mother would be quite pleased,” she says, looking down at her hands in her lap.

Buck scoffs, “I only care that I myself am pleased.”

He decides to try once again, saying, “Maddie-”

“You seem different,” she says, cutting him off, “You never would have said anything like that before you married.”

“You seem different too,” he says, taking one of her hands. He watches as her expression falters.

“Yes, I should say so,” she says.

Buck has so many questions, so many things he wants to say. He just has no idea how to say it. How to get her to open up to him, when she seems set against it.

“How is your husband?” Maddie asks.

Buck does his best to tamp down the smile wanting to spread across his face. It wouldn’t be appropriate to be so joyful about his marriage, not in this room with his widowed sister.

“He is well,” he says, offering no more, “And how are you?”

Her eyes are affixed to the piano keys. She lifts her fingers to run across the ivories.

“Maddie,” Buck pleads, “Please give me something.”

“I’m ashamed,” she says, whispering the words, “Of myself.”

“Ashamed?” he questions.

She nods, eyes filling with tears, “I am… happy… to be free of him.”

“ Why? ” Buck turns to face her.

“I take no pleasure in telling you, but he was… quick-tempered,” she admits, bottom lip trembling, “Often he would become… violent in his discipline of me.”

Buck sees tears stream down her face and gathers her into his arms.

“Oh, Maddie, no,” he gasps horrified.

She presses her face into his shoulder saying, “It is shameful of me not to mourn his passing.”

Buck cradles her head against him, “No. It isn’t.”

He rocks her a bit, his heart in his throat.

“No one should feel the need to mourn a wife-beating tyrant,” he insists, “He doesn’t deserve it.”

She sobs into him then, pressing her face into his chest. He continues to rock her, furiously blinking away his own tears, until she settles.

When she sits back, he tells her, “I’m sorry you dealt with that alone. You could have told me. I would have done anything within my power to help.”

She shakes her head, “Nothing could be done. You and I both know a husband has ultimate authority over his wife and family.”

Buck stays silent. He wants so badly to disagree because his own husband would never behave in such a way, would never assume authority over him. But he knows here, in this place, in this social hierarchy, Maddie speaks the truth.

“Alright,” he says, “But at least don’t feel ashamed. No one woman or otherwise, deserves to be abused. Not for anything.”

She nods, sniffling again, “Mother and Father know. Both that I am relieved and that it is because he was a harsh disciplinarian. They disapprove of my feelings on the matter.”

Buck’s eyebrows pull together and he feels a surge of anger course through him.

“I thought marriage would be different,” she says, taking his hand, “At first, it was wonderful. Our spring was spent together in carefree happiness. Then the end of summer came and,” she breaks off with a grimace, her eyebrows drawing together, “I could do nothing right and the punishments began.”

Buck searches her face, seeing the misery even as she no longer looks at him. She gazes out of the window, as if reliving some memory. He squeezes her hand.

She continues, as if in a confessional, professing her sins, “When he became ill enough to stay abed, I could not bring myself to visit him. The servants of the house beseeched me to attend his bedside, even when they knew of the things he had done to me. I’ve been bearing the shame of being an inattentive wife as well.”

He cannot imagine what she has been through. He cannot imagine Eddie ever treating him in such a way. He feels a deep sadness overcoming his anger at the situation.

“I for one,” he states, “Am exceedingly happy for his departure from this world. I find your treatment of him at his end fitting to his own treatment of you.”

She looks at him then with a tentative smile on her face and eyes watery with unshed tears.

“And no amount of shame could ever make me regret my feelings on it,” he says, hoping she will begin to feel the same, “So give your shame to me and I shall carry it for the both of us.”

She gives him a genuine smile then and the upward press of her cheeks makes tears fall from her eyes where she had been holding them back. He hugs her again and for the first time since he set foot in the doorway, he’s glad he is home.

—

That night, Buck finds it difficult to sleep alone in his childhood room in his parent’s house. He tosses and turns all night, unable to get comfortable and cold along one side.

The next morning, tired and sore, he sits at the desk in the sitting room and agonizes over what to write in his first letter to Eddie. He eventually settles on:

Dear Husband,

I’ve arrived in Hershey. The city is cold and unwelcoming, but my sister does much to fix that. 

Maddie does well and sends her regards, along with her thanks for letting me visit.

Please give my love to Christopher.

Only eleven days more, until I see you again.

Yours,

Buck

It feels formal and too stiff for their casual way with each other, but Buck has never written to his husband before and this was written like every letter he’s penned in the past. He hopes Eddie doesn’t think him odd.

Maddie comes to stand beside him then.

“I’ve decided to try to stop feeling ashamed,” she says, still sounding a touch unsure, “I’ll continue wearing my mourning clothes, but I refuse to play act any longer. Surely the last five weeks I’ve spent pretending is enough.”

“I should think it’s more than enough,” Buck says, pulling her into his arms, wrapping them around her snuggly.

“I’m free of him now,” she says, resting her head atop his, “Though here in society, I’m still required to mourn for many more months.”

“Then come to El Paso,” Buck insists, sitting back to look up at her, “Come and see the ranch. Stay with us and meet Christopher and my friend, Hen. You’ll have much more freedom there.”

“I’ll need to think on that,” she says, a thoughtful look on her face, “I could do it, as I have financial support from my late husband’s estate. Though they don’t agree, father and mother have no say in how I wish to spend my money or where I go. They are only insistent that I stay in my mourning phase as is custom.”

“I don’t believe you would have to hold to such a restrictive mourning phase in El Paso,” Buck tells her, “The people in the country are much more relaxed than the people here, in society.”

Buck knows that if a widow here in Hershey, among the high society families, were to not adhere to the mourning phases completely and wholly, she would be pushed out, no doubt. It wouldn’t matter if she’d been abused. If she did not mourn properly and at length, she would be left to survive on her own and refused any connections to friend or family. It’s as unfortunate as it is true.

“I’ll have to give it some thought, but you truly think I could be happy there?” she asks, face earnest.

“I do.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t write,” she says then, surprising him.

“You were struggling with other things, Maddie,” Buck says, “It’s quite alright.”

Maddie hums and admits, “I thought perhaps you were struggling too. I had such an extravagant life and I didn’t want to parade that in front of you when you were poor and living in the middle of nowhere.”

Buck rolls his eyes, “We aren’t poor, Maddie. We’re quite comfortable.”

Maddie cocks her eyebrow at him.

“Yes, alright, my home is nothing like this one, though I must make it clear, I never wished for that. And I have to do everything. Cooking and cleaning,” Buck explains, “I have chickens and a garden to attend to.”

“Do you really?”

“Of course, I do. It’s a ranch,” he says, grinning.

“And you take care of it all?” she asks, looking unsure.

“I do.” he says nodding, “I enjoy it.”

She gives  him a skeptical look.

“If you come to visit, you’ll see. I can teach you to till the garden,” he says, hoping to entice her.

Maddie wrinkles her nose, “Or we could do something else.”

Buck laughs, “Then I’ll teach you to feed the chickens. We could start right now, with the kitchen coop out back.”

The chicken coop here in Hershey was much smaller than the one on the ranch. Buck’s mother had been staunchly against letting him feed and pet the birds as he does now at home.

Maddie laughs, “Alright. You can teach me to feed the chickens.”

She takes his hand and they stand, ready to make their way outside.

—

The servants had given him a scandalized look when he asked where their feed was kept, but pointed the way.

At the chicken coop, Buck explains the ins and outs of chicken care to Maddie. He tells her how he cleans the coop on the ranch, stopping for a moment to focus on unlatching the lock to let them both inside.

As soon as the door swings open, the stench hits his nose and he retches. He has just enough time to turn away from Maddie, before he’s emptying the contents of his stomach onto the grass.

“Oh, Buck,” Maddie says, coming up beside him, hand gentling over his back as he continues to heave.

“Ugh,” he spits. It tastes horribly of bile and eggs from breakfast.

“Are you alright?” Maddie asks.

“Fine,” he says. His head swims a bit, and he feels like he may heave again at any moment, “Just… let’s forget it.”

He stands and stumbles into the coop, startling a hen or two. There are two perches inside along the wall and a short stool, not unlike the one at home. He sits down heavily onto it, holding his head in one hand.

“Are you alright?” Maddie asks again, gathering her skirt and squatting down beside him. She watches him closely as he breathes in through his mouth and out through his nose.

“Fine,” he repeats, wrinkling his nose as the stench of the coop hits him again. It feels like it’s rolling over him in waves.

How in the world is Maddie just fine against the smell?

“It stinks,” he adds. His mouth fills with saliva and his stomach turns over. God, he had better not get sick. Not here, so far from the comfort of home.

“It certainly does,” Maddie agrees, “Should we go back inside and attempt this lesson another day?”

Perhaps it’s the cold doing it, making the usual smell of a chicken coop that much more extreme. It’s not nearly as cold as this in El Paso. That must be it.

They sit for a moment longer, chatting idly, before Buck has had enough. 

They make their way back to the house, the small amount of snow crunching beneath their feet, leaving the stink of the coop behind.

—

On Buck’s third day home, he’s lounging in the library with Maddie. The only sound filling the room is the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the turning of their book pages.

A question suddenly strikes him, “Maddie?”

“Hm?” she says, not taking her eyes off her book. 

If she weren’t in her mourning clothes with subtle stress lines around her eyes from the ordeal she had suffered through, Buck may be able to picture this as a time before both their marriages. A time when they sat right where they are now, when she was happy and unimpeded by worldly things beyond her control.

“Why did our parents refuse to let you send for me?” he asks. It’s been on his mind since he received her note back on the ranch.

She hums, slipping a ribbon into her book to keep her place and closing it.

“Did you know they’ve decided to sell this house?” she asks. He wonders if she’s going to ignore his question.

“No.”

“Father hasn’t been able to recover any assets,” she says, folding her hands over her book, “They can no longer afford to keep living here. They’ve only been able to stay this last month due to my late husband’s estate covering their expenses.”

Buck is shocked at the news. His parents are the proudest people he’s ever known. This must be a great blow to their dignity.

“I believe they knew you might suggest I come live with you for a while. Perhaps they didn’t want their cash cow leaving too soon,” she muses, “Or perhaps they didn’t wish to further extend their finances with your presence. I can’t be sure.”

“Don’t refer to yourself in that way,” Buck insists.

Hearing this about his parents has made him incensed. While it is unsurprising they would use Maddie for their own monetary gain, he’d always been under the impression they would, at the very least, want what’s best for her. Apparently he’d been wrong.

She chuckles, “I have purchased some land for them and started the construction of a new home. Something smaller and easier to maintain with their financial situation. I am of the belief that whatever financial responsibility I owe them, will be done upon its completion.”

“That was very kind of you,” he says, though he thinks they don’t deserve her kindness.

Maddie is and has always been a far better child to their parents. 

—

That day and for the next two days, Buck takes to trudging up the stairs each afternoon, feet heavy as lead. He disrobes quickly, leaving his clothing in a pile upon the floor. He falls face first onto the bed, burying his head under a pillow, desperately missing the smell of his husband. He’s fast asleep before he can even pull the blankets up around himself.

—

Buck blinks awake slowly on his fifth day home. He’s warm, having pulled the bedclothes over himself at some point in his rest. A small fire crackles in the hearth, though he hadn’t stoked it before falling asleep. The afternoon light is gone from the window, replaced by dark night, the moon shining bright in the sky. It’s evening and he’d slept much longer than intended.

Maddie is sitting at the end of the bed, eyebrows furrowed in concern. She had woken him with a hand on his ankle, stroking it through the covers.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

Buck hums, stretching out, “Fine.”

“Are you sure you aren’t ill?” she asks, furrowing her eyebrows further.

Buck rolls his eyes, “Don’t be a worrywart.”

Maddie looks like she has more to say, but doesn’t. There’s nothing to worry about. He’s fine. He needn’t say so again.

“The smell of the coop the other day caught me off guard,” Buck says, sitting up against his pillows. He feels sore and tired, probably from the unfamiliar bed, “The smell is much stronger here than on the ranch. That’s all.”

Maddie hums thoughtfully, “It’s just not like you to nap during the day.”

Buck narrows his eyes at her, “The city is overstimulating and the house is rather boring. Napping has helped me relax and pass the time.”

“Alright,” she says, pursing her lips.

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m sure,” she says, standing from the bed. She stoops down and picks up Buck’s clothing from the floor.

“Seems you were in quite a rush to relax, is all,” she says to herself more than to Buck.

“I heard that,” Buck says, trying not to feel like a petulant child with an overprotective mother.

Maddie sends him a smile, bringing Buck’s clothing to him.

“It’s almost time for dinner,” she says, “Mother says to get dressed and come down.”

She leaves the room then. Buck crawls out of bed and does as she asked. 

He’s dreading this dinner. He hasn’t seen much of his parents. His father has claimed to be kept too busy with business and his attempt to rebuild his empire. His mother has claimed melancholia is keeping her abed and stopping her from taking visitors.

He plods downstairs, dressed for dinner. 

The family meal time turns out to be fine. It’s a quiet affair, his parents preferring to speak mostly to one another, and he is relieved when they ask him no questions about his new life.

—

Mrs. Maynard is kneading dough when Buck enters the kitchen. She gasps and claps upon seeing him, sending flour clouding through the air.

She’s been the house cook for as long as Buck remembers. She taught him many things about kitchen work through the years, supplementing what household education he received in school.

“Let me see you,” Mrs. Maynard says, coming around the counter and offering her hands to Buck. He takes them, finding that they’re as warm and soft as ever. Flour covers his hands as her thumb sweeps across the backs of them.

“You look well,” she says, smiling wide.

“I am well,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I understand you’ve been emptying the house of pickled goods?” she says teasing.

A flush crawls across his cheeks. He had eaten all the pickled vegetables available on the dinner table last night. Just this morning, he’d requested pickled garlic to accompany his eggs.

“Yes,” he says, embarrassed.

“Well,” she grins, “How would you like some pickled tomatoes? Or cabbage?”

“Not right now,” he says, “But thank you for offering. I was actually wondering if I might help you today?”

“Help?” Mrs. Maynard asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

He feels silly. He hasn’t been back in Hershey for even a week and he’s bored out of his mind. He’s done some embroidery, walked the grounds, read in the library, visited with Maddie and he’d even let her talk him into more piano duets. He’d also written to Eddie twice more. 

On his third day home, he’d crawled out of bed and written:

My dearest Husband,

I’ve invited my sister to the ranch. I hope you don’t mind, but there are extenuating circumstances and I’m certain you won’t. If you had seen her or heard her story, I think you may have done the same.

She has been through something dire. Her marriage was very unhappy. Nothing at all like ours.

I’m counting the days until my return to you and Christopher.

Only nine more.

Yours sincerely,

Buck

And on his fifth day, he’d sat at his desk writing:

Dear Husband,

Someone was creeping about my room this morning. I woke with a start, thinking it was Christopher and that I had slept too late, making him late for school.

Thankfully it was only a maid coming to stoke the fire and I was able to stop myself from rushing to dress her and ready her for second grade as I would have done with your son.

Please make sure Chris is on time each day while I am away.

Six more days until I return to resume my parental duties.

Yours affectionately,

Buck

He’d sent the third letter that morning, after slipping it into the handful of mail his father had tied together to send out.

“I’m rather bored,” he tells Mrs. Maynard, “I’m used to running my own kitchen, back on the ranch. My day is filled with chores to be done, instead of the endless free time I have here.”

He looks to the dough sitting on the countertop.

Mrs. Maynard sizes him up before sighing with a grin, “Alright. As long as you don’t tell your father. Wash up and come help.”

He’s eternally grateful to her and spends the afternoon elbow deep in dough and batter. Together they make two dozen rolls, a lemon cake, and five loaves of bread. It leaves Buck feeling settled, his skin no longer crawling with uselessness.

“Thank you,” he says as he washes his hands and rolls down his sleeves.

Mrs. Maynard huffs out a laugh, “I should really be thanking you.”

“Certainly not,” Buck says, “I owe a lot to you. You taught me so many things over the years and I’d have been lost on the ranch without them.”

Mrs. Maynard gives him a warm smile, “I’m glad they were of use to you. It seems that you’ve truly found yourself.”

Buck’s eyebrows lift in surprise and he thinks, Yourself? Most would have said he’d found happiness, but she chose yourself.

“I-,” he starts, swallowing, realizing she’s right, “I have indeed.”

“Good,” she says, giving him a smile, “Now get out of my kitchen, before your parents find out you’ve been working as a servant all afternoon.”

He goes, laughing and feeling much lighter.

—

On the morning of Buck’s seventh day home, he jolts awake shortly before sunrise.

At first, he’s confused, his senses bleary and laden with sleep. He lies there, intent on falling back to sleep, cozy and warm.

Then it hits him.

His stomach lurches and he knows immediately, he’s going to be sick.

He nabs his dressing gown, before running through the hall and into the bathroom.

The floor is cold beneath his legs when he throws himself upon it and he grips the seat of the toilet, knuckles white.

He breathes slowly, taking small sips of air, hoping to battle back the urge to vomit rising in his throat. 

He loses the fight against his stomach, retching into the bowl.

When he’s done, he pants heavily, slumped back against the bathroom wall. He hears the creaking of the door opening and turning his head toward it, he spies Maddie slipping inside.

“Sick again?” she asks, voice gentle as she stands like a specter in the doorway.

Buck nods, eyes squeezing shut against the nausea roiling in his belly.

“That’s the fourth time this week,” Maddie says.

Buck groans.

He hadn’t been counting, but she’s missing a time or two in her assessment, when he was blessedly alone in his ill state. One morning there’d been no one in the kitchen and he’d simply stepped outside the backdoor, greeting the bushes with his stomach contents. Another time, she’d been called to an audience with her estate lawyer and Buck had been intent on trying pickled sturgeon he’d found in the larder. That had ended quite badly, though thankfully alone.

“Do you think it’s the flu?” he asks, voice rough.

He hasn’t felt feverish, but he’s been sick nearly every morning since his arrival. He’s been so exhausted and sore that, though he was bored, he hadn’t had the energy or want to help with household tasks again since his day of baking with Mrs. Maynard.

“No,” she says, chuckling and coming to sit beside him. “Are you truly so dense?”

“What can you mean?” he asks, sighing. He’s so tired.

“Tell me again,” she says, laying her skirt straight. “How is your husband?”

“He is…” Buck can’t resist finally telling her the truth this time. “Wonderful. He makes me incandescently happy.”

It feels good to confess to her. He can’t stop himself from adding more.

“He has the most gentle hands,” he says, blushing deeply. “Until he doesn’t.”

Her smile is downright awful and smug as can be when she says, “So you really did notice the way his shoulders filled his suit jacket, then?”

Buck pushes at her shoulder and she slaps his hand away. It helps to distract him from his nausea when they act like children again, tussling and hissing at one another.

“Yes,” he says, after a moment, “I certainly did.”

Maddie laughs, loud and happy, “I don’t believe I could be any happier for you.”

She stands then, reaching down to haul him up. He goes easily, though carefully, doing most of the lifting, knowing he could drag her down if he isn’t careful.

She leads him downstairs and into the kitchen, where it’s dark and cold. The early morning light is just starting to stretch out over the buildings surrounding the house.

Maddie sets about making a cup of tea.

“Ginger,” she says when she sets it down in front of him, “It’s good for the stomach.”

He drinks it. It’s pleasantly warm and subtly spiced, filling and calming his stomach.

“Are you ready to talk about it now?” Maddie asks when he’s finished his cup.

“About what?”

“How you’re so very clearly with child,” she says, eyebrows high on her forehead.

Buck clatters the cup back onto his saucer, the china clinking.

“ What?” he hisses, voice low.

“Let’s see,” she says, holding up her fingers and pointing to each as she says, “You’re tired all the time. You’re getting sick each morning. You have eaten every pickled edible in the entire house.”

“Not the entire house, surely,” he says, trying to defend himself in some manner.

“And you certainly like the cut of your wonderful husband’s shoulders and his rough way of handling you,” she says, meaningfully. “There’s no doubt in my mind that you two are intimate regularly.”

Buck flushes a brilliant red, “You’re quite bold, sister.”

He gets up, taking the teacup and saucer to the sink. He frowns down at them as he begins scrubbing them clean.

He can’t be with child. Not yet.

Carriers never take as easily as women do. It’ss what he’s been taught his entire life. What he’s always known to be true. It takes a year, give or take a few months. That’s always how long it takes a carrier to get with child. That’s the expectation of his gender.

As he scrubs, he thinks on it. 

It is possible he’s been misinformed? Hen had certainly thought so, saying he’d only been taught the bare minimum about marital relations.

No, he decides. It just isn’t possible.

“I believe your assessment to be wrong,” he informs her as he rinses the china.

But then he pauses and thinks of Hen and the conversation they’d had last December. How he’d told her his chickens wouldn’t be ready to lay eggs of their own for a few months yet.

And how she’d responded with Hopefully by then you’ll be on your way to laying an egg of your own.

A dawning realization crawls up Buck’s spine, settling something heavy in his throat. His fingers go lax as the pieces of his thoughts begin to click into place within his mind.

The fine china saucer drops from his fingers, landing in the sink, thankfully unbroken.

Oh God.

—

His mother, Margaret’s melancholia breaks enough for her to leave the house on his eighth day home. 

She announces it by demanding he and Maddie accompany her and Phillip to church. She further demands he dress in his finest suit. She is disappointed to find he hadn’t brought it with him, sighing over what suits he did bring until she deems one suitable enough.

Though Maddie is still in her mourning phase and should not be dressed in frills and finery, their mother insists on her nicest black dress and finest lace veil.

Margret deems the outfit worthy to be gazed upon by the ladies of society. Of course, this whole production was to give the impression that nothing is amiss in the Buckley family. No sign of misfortune is to be seen.

The Buckley family pew is uncomfortable and hard, just as Buck remembers it being. He sits, wedged tight between his mother and Maddie, for what feels like hours. Pretending all the while to listen to Bishop Brian’s sermon.

In truth, he’s thinking of Eddie.

It’s been over seven months now since the last time Buck entered this church. Seeing Bishop Brian makes him remember walking down the aisle and the first kiss Eddie had ever given him.

Looking back, he is able to see that his own nervousness was also present in Eddie. He hadn’t noticed it at the time, too wrapped up is his own anxiety.

He can see it now, in his mind’s eye. The shake of Eddie’s hands as they pinned the broach to his lapel. The way he’d scuffed his shoe on the floor and stroked over his lips. He’d looked up at Buck with wide, but hopeful eyes.

He’d give anything now to have those eyes in front of him, to kiss those lips.

Behind the altar, Bishop Brian goes on and on about spring and rebirth. About the resurrection of Christ.

When they reach the final prayer and Buck closes his eyes, he thinks of the ranch, of Texas and the rolling fields of wildflowers, of the enormity of the blue sky. He thinks of Christopher’s face when they read their books, of the comfort of drinking tea in the kitchen with Hen. 

He thinks of Eddie’s soft smile, his dimples, and the strand of hair that always falls on his forehead. He thinks of home.

“Amen,” Bishop Brian says.

“Amen,” the congregation repeats.

Four more days, he thinks, Four more days and I’ll be home, right where I belong.

—

The night before he leaves for El Paso, his father asks for a word with him.

They’ve just about finished dinner, but Buck and Maddie remain at the table. Buck butters his last slice of bread, laying pickled radishes atop it. 

Maddie giggles at  him, “You’re going to finish off all the radishes in the house before you leave if you’re not careful.”

It’s true, Buck has been emptying jar after jar. This one marks the fourth finished since he arrived.

He swallows his bite, “I suppose I could slow down.”

Phillip clears his throat at the end of the table, “Evan, come see me in my study when you’re through.”

His father pushes back from the dinner table, making his way out of the room.

Buck makes eye contact with Maddie, raising his eyebrows at her, “What do you think that’s about?”

She shakes her head, shrugging, “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

Neither of their parents had had any interest in spending time with Buck since he’d been home. He’d spent the time blissfully ignored, napping between bouts of sickness, entertaining Maddie and trying to convince her to join him in Texas.

Both of their parents had been equally unimpressed at Maddie’s good spirits since he’d arrived. They’d each made speeches to her over the impropriety of her actions. He and Maddie had soundly ignored them.

He isn’t in any hurry to have whatever conversation his father wants to have. So he takes his time, slowly finishing his bread and radishes. He picks at the cheese and nuts remaining on the table and listens to Maddie prattle on about the last book she’d read.

Finally, when Buck can take no more, he says quietly, “I believe you were right. I’m with child.”

Maddie’s mouth stops, dropping into an O, eyes wide and full of disbelief for just a moment.

“I’m so very glad you’re willing to admit it now,” she says, a happy smile forming on her face.

Buck nods, “I’m likely only a few weeks.”

“Buck,” she says. She stands, coming around the table to grip his arm.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” he says, eyes beseeching her, “Eddie doesn’t know yet.”

“No, of course not,” she agrees, hugging him around the shoulders, “I’m so happy for you. Are you happy?”

Buck feels tears gather in his eyes and he blinks them back rapidly.

“Yes,” he admits, “Though I’m also scared.”

“I rather think that if your husband is as wonderful as you say, you’ll have nothing to be scared about,” she says into his shoulder.

Buck smiles, “You’re not wrong.”

She stands upright, smiling down at him, “An early fall baby then. Late summer if your calculations are off.”

Buck nods.

“I just know it will be the most beautiful baby,” she says, cupping his cheek, “Because it will look like you.”

“Well, it’s all the more reason for you to come stay in El Paso,” he says, taking the opportunity to encourage her to come again, “So you can find out if it takes after me or Eddie.”

She laughs, “I’ve been thinking it over. If you truly think it will be alright, I’ll come. Though I’ll need a week or so to make arrangements, but I’ll be along right behind you.”

Buck jumps up, hugging her tight, “Maddie, I’m so glad. It’ll be a new beginning for you.”

“That’s right,” she agrees. She looks only slightly worried for a moment, before steeling herself, “I’m going to be alright.”

“You’ll be better than alright. In El Paso, you’ll be…” he hesitates thinking it over, “happier and wonderful. Maddie, you’ll be free.”

“Well,” she laughs, “I’d better be if I’m travelling all the way out to Texas.”

“You will,” Buck says, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and breathes in the comforting scent of rose oil.

If I can flourish in El Paso, you can prosper there too, he thinks.

—

“It’s about time,” Phillip says when Buck enters the study. His mother lounges in the room too, on a plush velvet, wingback chair near the window, eyes on a book in her lap.

“My apologies, sir,” Buck says, coming to stand in front of the desk, “Maddie and I were conversing.”

“It was kind of you to come and support her,” his mother says, “Hopefully she’ll learn from this experience and pick a good man next time.”

“Mother,” Buck says, taken aback.

“Oh, I was just saying, Evan,” Margaret says, rolling her eyes. “We may not have agreed with some of her choices, but we let her lie in a bed of her own making and now we have hope yet.”

Buck scoffs, his eyebrows furrowing. The statement doesn’t sit right with him. Not at all.

Phillip looks up from his desk at Buck, “Come sit.”

He gestures to the chair across from his desk. 

“What did you wish to say?” Buck asks, settling into the chair.

Phillip hums, shuffling the papers on his desk. He clears his throat.

“Are you with child as of yet?” he asks.

“No,” Buck lies without hesitation. There is never going to be a time where his parents learn of his child before his husband and he’s affronted by the question, “What business is that of yours?”

“As is normal in societal marriage contracts, I am due to receive payment upon you bearing your husband a son,” Phillip drawls, looking bored of the conversation.

White-hot anger bubbles up within Buck. It’s a fast and simmering heat that threatens to boil over as soon as it’s begun. Of course his father only speaks with him to ascertain if he’s owed more money. That’s all Buck has ever been to him, a means for gain.

“I suppose the fair price he already paid wasn’t enough then?” Buck hisses.

Phillip frowns, “Edmundo told you?”

“Yes,” Buck says, trying to breathe through his anger, “He told me everything.”

Phillip has the gall to shrug, his face unperturbed. Margret looks out the window, fingers laced over her book, thumbs tapping against one another. Neither of them seem to care about what they’ve done.

Buck says nothing for several moments, waiting so long for one of them to speak that he begins to seethe. He wants to lash out, to demand an answer for the ad, for always feeling unwanted, for the years spent ignored in this house.

For everything.

“How could you?” he rasps, voice rough, “I have spent my entire life feeling as if I am a constant disappointment to you. Nothing I have ever achieved was good enough,” he stands, taking a shaking breath, walking a few paces away, “Then you just threw me away. You sold me like chattel… for whatever fortune you could gain and now you only speak with me to find if you can have more.”

Phillip and Margaret continue to say nothing. Each sitting still as a statue, one behind a fine, mahogany desk and the other in an elegant and expensive chair.

“Was I ever good enough?” he asks, murmuring, “Would I have been good enough if I were a son, a real son, an heir like you actually wanted?”

“We tried-,” Phillip starts, but Buck is quick to interrupt him.

“I know how little Eddie has given you, compared to what you would have gotten before your misfortune,” Buck says, hating how hurt he sounds, but the wound is too deep to stop now, “All those years you spent denying me suitors and making me wait to begin my life, only to sell me to the lowest bidder, all because you were desperate to recoup your losses. Not to ensure my own happiness.”

He laughs and it’s a hollow thing. He feels frantic and wild. His heart is racing and his chest has gone tight. He feels tears prickling in his eyes and blinks them away, not wanting to waste them on his parents.

“I was so lost ,” he chokes out, “I was so very lost and lonely for so long in this house. I had no idea what I was doing. The whole time I was beside myself with the need to please you by providing the one thing you actually wanted from me. Money. Fortune. And I couldn’t even do that to make you love me properly. I never stood a chance.”

Buck walks across the room, stopping in front of the fireplace. He stands with his hands braced against the mantle and takes deep breaths.

“What were we supposed to do, Evan?” Margaret asks, voice rising, “You never made it easy with your constant disobedience and improper actions and neediness. Even the carrier mark you bear is in the wrong place.”

“I only ever wanted to make you proud,” he mumbles, “Both of you.”

“I don’t know what you expected us to do!” Margaret wails. “Should we have lied? Acted as if everything wrong was acceptable?”

“I expected you to love me anyway!” Buck returns, spinning around to face them, “No matter if I was a difficult child or a carrier instead of a son. I should never have had to suffer from things that weren’t my fault.”

Phillip shakes his head, “I wish I had a better explanation for you. You seem to already know as much as we can say.”

Buck searches first his mother’s face, then his father’s, looking for something, anything really. All he can see is a deep weariness that he feels he understands completely.

Buck is ready to take his leave, when Phillip decides to say one last thing.

“I placed that ad because I needed to be rid of you. You know that our financial situation was dire,” he says, “But if I am honest, there also may have been some small part of me that was angry with you.”

His father’s words wash over him and he feels sick with it and livid.

Buck grinds his teeth, clenching his jaw so hard, he’s sure he’ll crack a molar.

“You wanted for nothing in life, Evan. Yet you were still so very difficult. I spent so much money on your education and training. All for it to be wasted because normal society just doesn’t and will never hold a high regard for a carrier, especially not one marked in the way you are,” Phillip says, stern as ever, “You are lucky I accepted Edmundo. You certainly could have ended up wed to someone far worse.”

Buck crosses his arms and says through gritted teeth, “If you’re right about one thing, it’s that. I was certainly lucky you sold me to Eddie. You may not care, but he treats me right. He’s kind to me. He takes care of me and makes me happy.”

“Then I do not apologize,” Phillip says. “I had no other options and this certainly worked out for the best.”

Buck cuts his eyes to his father, glaring.

“I wouldn’t forgive you even if you did have other options,” he states. “I wouldn’t have wanted them anyway. And it would change nothing of your past treatment of me.”

Phillip exhales, “Fine.”

Buck looks at his father, then his mother. For the first time, he’s able to separate them and their feelings towards him from himself. It feels like a small freedom he’s been afforded.

“I leave in the morning,” he says, clearing his throat and blinking away his unshed tears, “I likely will not return, unless one day Maddie asks it of me.”

“We understand,” Phillip says.

—

That night, Buck can’t sleep, restless with the wretched emotions from the day.

After leaving his father’s study, he’d packed his luggage, wanting to be ready to leave first thing in the morning. Then he’d washed up and lied in bed for what felt like hours, tossing and turning, unable to quiet his unsettled mind.

In the wee hours of the morning, Buck gets up, lights a candle, and walks to his desk to write one final letter to his husband.

Eddie,

I’ll be home before this letter reaches you, but what I need to say cannot wait.

I’ve spent ten days in this city, feeling like an outsider. Aside from the welcome of my sister, I have felt like a shadow, or perhaps a stranger, in what was once my familial home.

I’ve come to realize I always felt this way. I have always felt foreign and other when held up against the harsh requirements of high society, no matter how hard I tried to fit in. It plagued me as a child and followed me into adulthood, causing me many a vexation.

I feel I can now understand why.

This city, this house, this family isn’t a home. Not like the ranch. Not like you and Christopher and the people there.

Do you remember when we held the bonfire last December? Do you remember standing together with Christopher and wishing upon the shooting stars overhead?

We didn’t ask one another what we wished for, lest it not come true. I could have wished for any number of things that night. A return to my family, Money, A life of my own. Anything, really.

But I didn’t. I didn’t even think to wish for any of that.

I’ll tell you now what I wished for.

I wished to be happy and to thrive.

And I have.

Right there on the ranch. With you and Christopher.

There is one other thing I wished for. I daren’t say it in this letter. My time in Hershey has come to an end. I’ll board the train in the morning and it will only be two days before I’m back in your arms.

I’ll tell you then.

I cannot wait to see you, to touch you, again. I have longed for it, for you, these past two weeks.

I’ll be counting every day, hour, and minute.

Your Husband truly and always,

Buck

Chapter Text

The depot is full of late morning sunshine when the train pulls into El Paso.

Buck stands up before it’s even come to a complete stop.

He sees Eddie through the window, one hand in his pocket and the other held up, holding his pocket watch to his face as he reads the time. Buck’s heart skips a beat at the sight of him.

He’s antsy, eagerly waiting his turn to exit the train. When he does, he runs down the platform quickly and all but throws himself into Eddie’s arms.

Eddie’s breath rushes out of him, like Buck knocked it out with the force of his hug. Eddie brings his arms tight around Buck’s torso, clutching at his waist.

“Hello there, darlin’,” he breathes out, “You miss me?”

Buck nods vigorously without answering, wrapping his arms tighter around Eddie, pressing his face into his neck and breathing him in.

“Well that makes two of us,” Eddie says, rubbing his thumbs along Buck’s sides.

“I don’t ever want to be gone from you that long again,” Buck whispers into Eddie’s neck and presses himself closer to his husband.

“Then we’ll do our best not to let that happen,” Eddie promises, pressing his nose into Buck’s hair and taking a deep breath of his own.

—

They get his luggage loaded into the cart and sit snug against each other under the bright, cornflower blue sky as they begin their journey home.

“Where’s Christopher?” Buck asks. He’d thought the boy would meet him at the depot with Eddie and he’s eager to share the news with his family of his pregnancy.

Eddie gives him a grin, “With Hen. I planned something special to welcome you home. Just for the two of us.”

“Oh?” Buck asks, raising his eyebrow, “And what is it we’re doing?”

“You’ll see when we get there,” he says, holding the reins in one hand and taking Buck’s hand with his other.

Buck decides to wait to reveal he’s with child. Eddie can surprise him with whatever he’s planned and Buck can surprise him right back. He revels in the closeness of Eddie after so long apart and settles in for the ride under the warm sunshine.

—

Buck is confused when Eddie pulls onto the narrow lane leading to the ranch, but his husband steers the cart to enter a path cut through a pasture instead of continuing to the farmhouse. 

He realizes where they’re heading after a while. The pond is up ahead and Buck can see the copse of trees that surrounds one side of it.

Eddie pulls up and before he steps out of the cart, he reaches back and under the bench seat, bringing out a quilt and a picnic basket.

“Thought we might have a picnic lunch to ourselves before Chris and Hen welcome you home,” he says, grinning lopsided and sweet.

“That sounds wonderful,” Buck tells him.

They set up under the shade of the trees. The quilt they sit upon is cushioned by the grass beginning to emerge from its winter dormancy. 

Buck looks out over the fields around them starting to green with new growth. There’s not anyone else as far as his eyes can see.

They tuck into a lunch of roast chicken with fried potatoes and sip from a shared glass bottle of lemonade. Eddie tells him that Hen was kind enough to prepare the picnic basket for them.

When they’ve finished the food and Eddie has packed the dishes back into the basket, Buck thinks to tell him the good news, but he’s interrupted before he can begin.

“Hey, c’mere,” Eddie says, hand circling Buck’s waist and pulling him closer.

He threads a hand through the back of Buck’s hair and gives it a tug, leaning back and pulling Buck down until they’re laying flat on the quilt and kissing.

“Stop smiling,” Buck says against Eddie’s lips. 

“Can’t,” Eddie says, and kisses him again.

They cuddle and kiss atop the quilt in the warm air of the afternoon and Buck feels stunningly happy for the first time in two weeks.

Eddie pulls back from Buck’s lips, kissing down his neck. The tie Buck had been wearing has long since been tossed aside and his shirt unbuttoned to mid chest, giving Eddie more access to his skin.

Buck hums at the feeling, enjoying the way Eddie mouth’s against this pulse point. It’s been entirely too long since they’ve done this and Buck’s feelings of being sick and tired are distant at the moment.

Pressed in close to Eddie, he can feel how aroused they both are, can feel how hard Eddie is, can feel that he's getting wet between his thighs, and he just… wants.

He wants so badly.

Buck slips from Eddie’s grip easily, pushing him to lay back and sliding lower until he’s between Eddie’s legs.

“What-” Eddie gets out, but he stops, staring at Buck so near his cock.

“I missed you,” he tells him finally.

Eddie looks speechless, eyes filled with wonder, and Buck can’t take it any longer.

He fumbles at Eddie’s trousers, yanking them open. He hadn’t realized quite how badly he’d wanted to do this. How much he’s thought about doing this.

When he looks up, he finds Eddie breathing heavily and gazing upon him. Eyes wide, mouth open and slick from their kisses and just… watching.

“Let’s get these off,” Buck says, tugging at Eddie’s trousers.

Eddie scrambles to oblige his request, shoving his trousers and drawers down his hips until they bunch atop his thighs. His cock slaps back against his belly that’s still covered by his shirt.

Buck quickly pulls his pants and drawers all the way off, taking his boots off with them. He settles back between Eddie’s legs and sees his cock is dark red and wet at the tip. Buck’s body throbs at the sight of it.

“My god,” he groans.

“Oh?” Eddie asks, panting.

Buck doesn’t answer. Instead he leans forward and presses his lips to the underside of Eddie’s cock. It’s blood-hot as he kisses his way to the head, remembering what Eddie had done to him in the past when he’d used his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie breathes out heavily, “Darlin’, you-”

He takes Eddie’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head. He hums at his first taste of his husband.

Eddie groans above him, the sound getting choked off. He props himself up on one elbow, bringing the other hand to the crown of Buck’s head, his fingers lacing through Buck’s hair as he takes more of his cock into his mouth.

He can see why Eddie likes doing this, why he’s so eager to do it for Buck. The heat and weight of Eddie against his tongue and in his mouth sends thrills down Buck’s spine. It makes something hot and silky settle in his belly, like he wants to arch his back and beg in a way that’s entirely inappropriate.

It doesn’t take long for Eddie to get loud, for him to groan and grunt and say things that make Buck blush to the roots of his hair.

“Baby, your mouth ,” Eddie says after a little while, pulling at Buck’s hair when he sucks harder. “Darlin’, you’ve gotta-”

He pulls again, firmly enough that Buck takes notice, grunting against the motion.

“Stop-” Eddie gasps, and Buck does, sitting back quickly, Eddie’s cock leaving his mouth with a faint pop.

“Did I do it wrong?” he asks, worried. He’s surprised by how rough his voice sounds.

Eddie laughs on an exhale, “No. Not wrong at all.”

His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, “Just needed a second. I was too close.”

I did that , Buck thinks, eyes glued to Eddie’s spit-slick cock. It looks an angry red.

His jaw aches just a bit and when he licks his lips, he finds them numb. They tingle a bit as his tongue runs over them.

He’s proud of himself, he realizes, as he sits back on his haunches, giving Eddie a moment to calm. He watches the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. 

Too soon he becomes impatient.

He resituates himself, toeing off his shoes and unfastening his trousers, pushing them down his hips along with his drawers. He sits half dressed and hard between Eddie’s legs.

“What are you up to, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

“I missed you so much,” Buck says, watching the way Eddie stares at him. 

He must look quite a sight to his husband, mouth flushed and cock standing proud as he sits atop the quilt, the pond behind him. Eddie must surely appreciate the sight because as Buck watches, his husband’s cock jerks and drools against his shirt and his mouth hangs open.

And Buck just wants him so much, so badly. Right now.

He crawls up between Eddie’s legs and over his thighs, straddling him.

“I’ve just missed you so, so badly,” Buck says again, and he grabs Eddie’s cock, smirking at the groan that escapes his husband’s stunned mouth.

He finds his opening, rubbing Eddie’s cockhead against it, coating it in his slick. Then he begins sinking down slowly.

“Oh, fuck,” Buck gasps out. He hadn’t wanted to take the time for preparation and the stretch and ache that fills him is surprisingly good, though he needs to go slow. He arches his back and sighs when he finally settles against Eddie’s thighs, taking a long moment to adjust to the feeling.

“Fuck,” he says again, squeezing his eyes shut and letting his mouth drop open as he grinds his hips down, letting his husbands cock stretch him.

After another moment, he starts a tentative rhythm, hands braced against Eddie’s chest. His thighs begin to burn with the effort and he leans down atop his husband, setting his hands against the quilt at the sides of Eddie’s head.

Buck likes that better, the feel of his nipples brushing against Eddie’s shirt and how his cock gets trapped between them. He likes it even more when Eddie gets a hand into his hair and kisses him hard, with tongue and vigor.

He feels himself tiring and pushes through it, grinding down onto Eddie until he finds that spot inside himself. Buck moans, shifting in his grind until he’s hitting that spot on every stroke. He’s going to come soon, he can feel it building within him, thrumming through his belly.

He leans back, sitting up over Eddie, sliding a hand down to his own cock. He’s almost embarrassed at how wanton he’s become, touching his cock while Eddie’s eyes are glued to him. His husband watches intently for a moment before screwing his eyes shut tight and letting out a ragged sound.

“Baby,” Eddie gasps, bringing his hands to Buck’s hips and dragging him down harder, “You’re gonna make me come.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, panting as he strokes himself faster, faster, until he’s coming, his hole tightening around Eddie in rhythmic pulses.

“Oh, God,” Eddie gasps, “God fucking damnit.”

His fingers dig into Buck’s hips as he holds Buck tight against him, fucking up into the tight clutch of his body until he’s coming too, cock kicking hard as he spends himself deep inside.

“Jesus,” Buck pants, fingers coming to hold on to Eddie’s hands at his hips. He grinds down a few times more onto him, sending sparks up his spine as he rides out the last of the pleasure.

When it’s over, he pulls off and they dress quickly. Then they lie back side by side on the quilt, Eddie’s arm under Buck’s head and around his shoulder, pulling him close. 

“Maybe you should go away again,” Eddie says, after catching his breath, “If that’s the kind of surprise I get when you come back.”

Buck laughs, tipping his head onto Eddie’s cheek. He can’t fight the smile that comes across his face, not that he’d ever want to.

“That wasn’t the surprise I had in mind for you, actually,” he admits.

“Oh?” Eddie asks, pressing a kiss to Buck’s birthmark, “What did you mean to surprise me with then?”

Buck pushes up on his elbow, looking down over his husband, “I’m with child.”

He gets to watch as a look of pure happiness spreads over Eddie’s face, his smile is so wide his dimples are on display and his eyes crinkle.

“You’re sure?” he asks, reaching up to cup Buck’s cheek, thumbing over it.

“Unless I’ve had an illness that only affects me in the morning and causes me to crave  pickled foods,” Buck says with a chuckle, “Yes, I believe I’m sure.”

“ Darlin’, you- ,” Eddie presses forward, pushing Buck back and down onto the quilt.

Eddie leans over him, planting a hand beside Buck’s head and using the other to cup his jaw, He bends down capturing Buck’s mouth in a thorough kiss. When he pulls back, he slides his hand from Buck’s face, down his chest, to rest on his belly. His fingers flex minutely, barely a squeeze.

“Buck, you-,” he cuts himself off again, with a shake of his head, “When Christopher’s mother got pregnant, I was a mess. I’d had that marriage forced upon me and the ranch wasn’t profitable enough yet. I’d just taken it over when my father retired and she and I– we didn’t… Our marriage wasn’t like the one I have with you. I’d hoped it would have taken a bit longer for her to conceive. When I found out about Christopher, my first urge was to run.”

Buck’s eyebrows draw together and he worries Does he want to run now too?

“I know it was wrong and I didn't run, obviously. I did right by her, did my duty. I loved Christopher with my entire being, but all the while I was scared as hell,” he says, eyes soft and warm, “And this time, I’m so glad I just get to enjoy it.”

Buck feels an unsure smile come across his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, darlin’,” Eddie nods, caressing Buck’s stomach, “I’m not scared, not a mess. I chose you for myself. I chose you and our marriage and now…”

He kisses Buck once more, just a peck but sweet as can be.

“Now I chose this baby. And you’ve made me the happiest man in Texas, I reckon,” he says it with the widest smile, his white teeth and sharp canines on full display.

Buck has to be sure and asks, “You don’t think I conceived too soon? I thought it would take much longer. Up to a year, even. You didn’t want more time?”

“No,” he says, giving Buck a smirk, “I told you what could happen and we went at it like barn cats in heat, darlin’. It’s no surprise we got a kitten.”

Buck blushes so deeply, he’s surprised he has any blood left in his body.

“I’ve been a fool about it then,” he says, covering his eyes with a hand.

Eddie sucks his teeth, “Not a fool. I’m thinking you were misled. If you’d married yourself a society husband, he might’ve only come to fuck you once a month. Maybe twice if you were lucky.”

Buck feels the blush hit his ears, heat spreading through them.

“If he’d only had you that often? It likely would have taken quite a while to get a baby in you,” Eddie grins, sly and wolfish, “Or maybe I’m just incredibly virile.”

Buck lowers his hand to roll his eyes at the man, “Oh yes, that’s definitely it.”

Eddie moves over Buck, pushing back in between his legs.

“It’d be a damn shame,” he says, hands gripping Buck’s thighs.

“What would?”

“Only having you once a month,” Eddie says, shaking his head, “Couldn’t ever imagine not wanting you all the time.”

“Oh?”

He nods, “It'd be a crime not knowing you like that. That deeply, that intimately, that often.”

Eddie’s hands move up Buck’s thighs to his hips, gripping tight and thumbs pressing into the bones, “Not knowing what you look like, what you sound like, the way you taste? I couldn’t live like that.”

Eddie leans forward, his head coming forward to rest against Buck’s belly. Buck cups the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair, thumb sweeping back and forth.

“Neither could I,” he admits and Eddie grips his hips tighter.

“Can’t believe I got a baby in you,” Eddie breathes against his skin. He sounds proud of himself, “Think we should do it again.”

“Do what again?”

“Fuck and make sure it took,” he says.

Buck feels the familiar simmer of want fizzing up inside him and he swallows hard.

“Alright, that’s a good idea.”

A while later, on the way back to the farmhouse, happy and satisfied, Buck looks out over the fields beginning to green with the new growth of spring.

“I can’t wait for the wildflowers to bloom again,” he says absentmindedly.

“They’ll be everywhere in no time,” Eddie tells him, “Sometimes they’re a downright menace ‘cause they don’t care where they grow.”

—

He’s greeted by Hen and Christopher with joyous salutations and a delicious looking cake. 

Buck bursts into tears at the sight of their smiling faces and gathers them into his arms, ignoring the dumbstruck and questioning looks they give. He holds them tight against him as he sobs, catching sight of Eddie trying to hide his chuckles in the corner.

Finally, Hen pushes out of his arms saying, “Alright, that’s gone on long enough. I guess you missed us then?”

Buck sniffles, nodding at her.

When he tells them he’s with child, their crows of delight fill both the room and Buck’s heart.

“I’m going to be a big brother?” Chris asks, earnest and happy.

“Yes,” Buck nods, “The best big brother anyone could ask for.”

When they’ve finished their cake and Christopher goes outside to play with Denny and Mara, Buck and Hen sit at the table. They make cups of tea to sip, enjoying each other’s company after doing without for so long.

“It’s really no wonder, I guess,” she says, lifting her cup to her mouth.

“What is?” Buck wonders, sipping his ginger tea. The cake had been delicious, but the sweetness of it made his stomach queasy.

“You being with child,” she says, “What with you and Eddie going at it all the time, the way you have.”

Buck flushes crimson, saying, “ Henrietta Wilson, I swear!”

She laughs long and loud. Buck loves it dearly, having missed the sound of his friend’s laughter so much in the last two weeks.

—

That night they climb the stairs to their room, after a dinner where Eddie watched with laughter in his eyes, as Buck devoured pickled eggs and pickled garlic on fried bed.

Buck dresses for bed in the moonlight that slants across the floor before slipping into bed. Candlelight flickers across Eddie’s face, dancing there in the darkness of the rooms.

The thought strikes Buck that he looks like a painting. Like one of the elegant ones he’d seen in a museum long ago from the sixteenth century. 

Eddie looked like one of those portraits now, the shadows and highlights cast in stark contrast. His form laid there as if painted in delicate strokes of craftsmanship and full of spirit.

It makes Buck feel breathless.

“What is it, darlin’,” Eddie asks. He’s shirtless and the light flickers over the artistry of his body.

“I’m just happy to be home,” Buck says.

He presses a firm kiss to Eddie’s lips and settles into bed. Eddie wraps his arms around him and they lie there for a while, until Eddie’s breathing has evened out and he’s fast asleep.

Buck lies awake as the moon moves across the sky. Buck wanted to tell him then. To say that he loves him dearly and desperately. That he will until the end of time.

But he couldn’t. The admission had stuck in his throat, refusing to leave.

Buck has only ever been loved by two people. Maddie and Christopher. One is obligated as his sister and the other is a child so full of love, he can’t help but spread it around freely.

Though his husband has yet to say he loves Buck, Eddie has never treated him in a way to make him think he wouldn’t have deep feelings for him. Surely his husband loves him. It seems silly to think that he should not.

Buck knows Eddie is happy with him. He knows Eddie approves of his raising of Christopher. He likes how Buck takes care of the house and Hen and the ranch hands. He thinks Buck does a good job.

He said he chose Buck, and their marriage, and their child. That he’s excited about it.

Buck decides perhaps it would be alright to leave it at that for now. To wait for Eddie to tell him first. Whenever he’s ready.

—

The night before Maddie is due to arrive, Buck bathes in the kitchen. He’d tucked Christopher into bed and left Eddie to his own devices, to spend an hour or so alone in blissful silence.

With a baby on the way, Buck knew he would need to enjoy this while he could. 

He’s relaxing back in the warm water when the door swings open unexpectedly.

He jumps, startled, turning around to see who it is, but it’s just his husband.

“It’s just me, darlin’,” Eddie says, waltzing into the room.

“Did you need something?” Buck asks, reclining back against the side of the tub.

Eddie shakes his head, “Not particularly. Just checking on you.”

Buck snorts. He can see his husband creeping closer to the tub, until he drops to his knees beside it, arms on the edge.

Eddie gazes at him, eyes dark.

“Hi there,” he says, smiling at Buck.

“Hello,” Buck says with a chuckle. “You’re interrupting my alone time.”

“Right, right,” he nods, “Just ignore me.”

Buck sighs and he knows it sounds fond. Ignoring his husband is an impossible task and one he has no interest in completing.

Buck fishes around in the tub for his bar of soap, washing his arms and soaping his shoulders and neck. He doesn’t miss the way Eddie watches his every move.

“Yes?” he asks.

Eddie sits up, eyes wide and eager, “May I?”

He holds his hand out, palm up.

“I suppose so,” Buck says, placing the soap into his hand.

Eddie takes the soap and walks on his knees around the tub. He washes Buck’s chest and back, then moves down to bring his feet up out of the water, bracing them on the edge of the tub as he soaps Buck’s calves and thighs and between them.

“You’re being quite thorough,” Buck says, reveling in the feeling of Eddie soaping up his cock and below, but he doesn’t linger there.

Eddie hums, leaning forward to press a kiss to Buck’s lips. Then he washes Buck’s hair, taking great care. He massages Buck’s scalp and Buck can’t help the wide, happy grin that breaks out across his face.

“What?” Eddie asks, not stopping in his task.

“Are you practicing?” Buck asks.

“For what?” Eddie asks, picking up a mug and filling it with water. “Close your eyes.”

He rinses Buck’s hair, making certain it’s clear of soap.

“For the baby,” Buck says, head still tipped back.

Eddie stops, “No, sweetheart. I just wanted to do this for you.”

His cheeks are pink when Buck looks up at him.

“Have I told you just how beautiful you are?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Buck’s forehead.

“Not lately,” Buck answers, smiling at him, slow and relaxed. He loves Eddie so much.

“You are so very beautiful,” Eddie says, “And I am so lucky.”

“So am I,” Buck says, looking deeply into those warm brown eyes.

Eddie sits at the side of the tub again, hand slipping beneath the water once more. He wraps it around Buck where he’s hard and wanting. Stroking him and leaning forward to mouth at his jaw, Eddie makes Buck come with a strangled whine.

As Buck pants, leaning back against the tub, he stares up at his adoring husband with his flushed cheeks and thinks:

Yes, there’s no doubt. This is love.

—

They wait at the train depot the next day. Maddie’s train is right on time and when she exits, she runs straight to Buck, throwing her arms around him.

He does his best to stifle his tears, but a few stream down his face. He’s had an awful time controlling his emotions as of late. He’s sure his sister will understand.

And she does, because a few of her own tears make streaks down her face when she pulls away.

“I’m finally here,” she says, smiling wide.

“You’re finally here,” he agrees, gripping her shoulders and squeezing.

She isn’t wearing her mourning veil and he’s glad to see it. She’s still in a plain black dress, but it's one that could easily be mistaken for something a lady would normally wear. He’s so proud of her. She’s making her own way now and finding her happiness. It’s what she deserves.

“Is this all of the town?” she asks, as they load her luggage.

Eddie hadn’t wanted Buck to help at all, but he grabbed what he could, much to his husband’s dismay.

“El Paso isn’t much to look at,” Eddie tells her, “But there’s a general store, a bank, and a church if you’d like to attend.”

“A general store?” she asks, “Would it be too much if I asked to stop there? I ran out of some of my toiletries on the trip here.”

“Course,” Eddie says, “That won’t be a problem.”

They board the cart, sitting snug on the bench in front. Maddie makes kind remarks on the features of the town as they ride. Buck knows she’s being generous. He remembers his first day here and how confusingly small the town was to him.

“Oh,” she says as they pull up to the general store, “It’s just like the stores we would stop in when we were on vacation on the seaside.”

“It is,” Buck grins at her, “Just wait until you see the bins.”

When they walk inside, Buck sees Chimney behind the counter. Eddie makes his way to the general store owner while Buck shows Maddie to the toiletries. 

They’re smelling the new scented soap bars when someone clears their throat behind them.

They turn to find Eddie and Chimney.

“Oh, Maddie,” Buck says, eager to introduce one of the friend’s he’s made here to his sister, “This is Chimney Han. He’s the owner of this fine establishment. Chimney, this is my sister, Maddie Kendall. She’ll be staying with us for a bit.”

Buck watches them exchange pleasantries, Chimney being just as welcoming to her as he was to Buck long ago. Instead of the handshake he’d greeted Buck with, Chimney bows slightly.

Buck had wondered if the rules of social etiquette would differ here and found they were mostly the same. In the city, surrounded by society, men always bow when meeting a lady for the first time. A handshake could only be initiated by the lady and the lady generally doesn’t offer unless it is a relative or close acquaintance.

It had been drilled into him in etiquette lessons “A man has no right to take a lady’s hand until it is offered. He has even less right to pinch or retain it.”

“Oh, please, do call me Maddie, Mr. Han,” she says when Chimney calls her Ms. Kendall.

Chimney gives her a winning smile, “Only if you will agree to call me Chimney.”

Maddie, to Buck’s immense surprise, offers Chimney her hand. He isn’t quite sure what to think of their exchange. It seems so similarly friendly to his own first meeting with Chimney, but… there appears to be an undertone of interest to this. He’ll have to ask his sister her thoughts on this later.

After the exchange, Chimney and Eddie head back to the counter, talking of settling a debt once again.

“He is quite handsome,” Maddie says, turning back to the toiletries and picking up a container of cold cream.

“He certainly is,” Buck smiles smugly, proud of his husband’s charms, “Just wait until you meet his son.”

“Oh,” she says, mouth downturned, “Chimney has a child? He’s married then?”

“No,” Buck says confused, “You were not speaking of Eddie?”

Maddie scoffs, turning back and moving to a stand of bath oils, ignoring Buck and his questions as she selects her purchases.

—

Midway through March, when Christopher is leaving the house for school, he stops to give Buck a kiss on the cheek. Then instead of heading straight out the door like normal, he pressed a kiss to Buck’s belly saying “Bye baby” before rushing out.

Buck ended up over the sink, weeping for a long moment at the sweetness of the act  like he’d lost his mind and devolved into hysteria. 

Maddie was dismayed at the sight of him when she found him like that. She made him sit and drink a cup of tea while he gulped in breaths trying to calm himself down.

He felt silly trying to explain his tears of joy at having such a sweet son. She shushed him while sitting beside him at the table and she rubbed his back.

Later after lunch, he goes down in the cellar to fetch a jar of rendered fat and he spots a jar of pickled okra high on a shelf. There were about a dozen of them stored there. They’d had a high yield from the garden last summer.

He stares at them for a long moment, before plucking a jar and then two more off the shelf and carrying them up the creaking steps and back into the kitchen.

Hen’s watching with amusement as Buck eats half of one jar, piece by piece.

“Have you got a hankerin’?” she asks, eyebrow raised and teasing.

Buck doesn’t care for her tone, “No sense in letting them collect dust down there. Might as well eat what we preserved.

“Oh, to be sure,” she says, grinning and snagging an okra from his plate.

—

It doesn’t end there.

Buck eats them with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He pairs them with pork loin and roast chicken. He devours them alongside scalloped potatoes and egg salad.

One night after his bath, he’s bent over the sink, shoveling them into his mouth when Eddie walks into the kitchen.

“Lord above,” Eddie laughs, “Hasn’t your craving gone on long enough?”

Buck’s heart stops, as well as the hand halfway to his mouth holding another piece of okra.

“Hm?” he asks, mouth stuffed full.

“You’re going to finish all the okra off if you’re not careful,” Eddie says, gesturing to the jar Buck’s holding, then to the two empty jars sitting in the sink.

Buck swallows, “My apologies?”

Eddie smiles, coming around the kitchen table to press a kiss to his forehead, hand gripping Buck’s hip.

“You do whatever makes you happy, darlin’,” he says. “I was only worried you might run out, but if I have to go around town finding more, I’ll be happy to.”

He slides his hand from Buck’s hip and onto his belly, giving it a rub, before pressing a kiss to his cheek and heading upstairs to bed.

Buck finishes the jar with a smile on his face, before doing the same.

—

In the third week of March, Buck burns a pie meant for the ranch hand’s lunch and breaks down in tears, once again.

Blessedly Maddie isn’t there to make fun at his expense. She has taken to going into town nearly every day. What she does, Buck can’t know for sure. His sister is tight lipped when questioned. Although she always seems to come back with some goody or another from the general store.

Hen has surely appreciated his sister’s willingness to drive the cart into town though. Maddie has begun collecting the children from school each afternoon, giving Hen ample time to complete her daily tasks.

Alas, that means Hen is present to witness this day's breakdown.

“Are you crying?” Hen asks bewildered, “Again?”

“Is everything alright?” Ravi asks, smiling his most charming grin as he saunters into the room.

“Get out !” Buck cries, unable to stand such an audience to his woe.

Ravi backs out the door, hands held up in placation, smacking his shoulder against the doorframe as he goes.

“Ow, fuck,” he hisses, but he doesn’t stop. He just backs out faster, like he’s terrified of Buck and his sudden turn in mood.

Hen watches Ravi go, rounding on Buck as soon as they’re alone.

“What in the hell is the matter with you?” she asks, laughing all the while.

It only serves to make Buck sob all the harder.

“I don’t know.”

Hen laughs harder and Buck looks away, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath. 

“Yes you do,” Hen says through her laughter, “Lord have mercy, I’m glad I’ll never be pregnant.”

—

“Is there a midwife in town?” Buck asks one night. 

The house is dark and quiet. He and Eddie are cuddled up in bed. Buck’s head rests on Eddie’s chest.

“Sure is. Sue Blevins. She’s been midwifing for damn near twenty years at least,” Eddie tells him, running a hand through Buck’s hair.

“Probably time to call for her,” Buck says, eyes slipping closed.

“I’ll send for her first thing in the morning,” Eddie says. He pulls Buck closer in and strokes his hand up and down Buck’s spine until he falls asleep.

—

Sue Blevins is a pleasant looking woman with fiery red curls and a kind smile. Buck likes her immediately.

“Well, Mr. Diaz,” she says, patting Buck on the knee, “I do believe you’re with child.”

Buck nods, “Just as I suspected.”

“It’s still too early to be absolutely sure, but I’d say you’re a couple months along or so. Give or take a week or two,” She says, looking at him with big, gentle eyes.

“Probably looking at a fall baby. Likely October or November,” she says, “It’s quite early yet, things could… change,” she purses her lips, “I’d like to see you again in a few weeks. Carriers, as I’m sure you know, present earlier than women and we’ll know for certain then.”

“Present?” Buck asks.

“You’ll notice the change in your body soon,” she explains, “In your belly.”

Oh.

Buck nods, understanding.

“I’ll be back and check on you again, say about late April,” Mrs. Blevins says.

Buck shakes her hand and Mrs. Blevins bids him goodbye, slipping out of the parlor.

“A fall baby,” Eddie says, gripping his shoulders, “We’re going to have a fall baby.”

—

At the end of April, when Maddie has once again left for town to stop at the general store and pick up the children, Buck has tucked himself away in the room adjacent to his and Eddie’s.

“You alright?” Eddie asks, standing in the doorway.

Buck’s hands pause on the blanket he’s been knitting.

They had moved Buck’s sewing items and things here, giving Maddie the sewing room for the duration of her stay.

“Yes, of course,” he says.

He keeps his voice steady. Midwife Blevins had just left the farmhouse after checking on Buck for the second time. She was delighted that he’d had no changes since their last meeting, other than his morning sickness finally beginning to wane.

She had declared him to be over three months into his pregnancy. Then said she would see him again in a month, before departing.

“Sure you aren’t nervous?” Eddie asks, coming to stand at Buck’s shoulder, “It’d be fine if you were.”

“I know,” he says.

He is nervous. He supposes he has been since he stood over his parent’s sink that morning in Hershey with Maddie, the dawning realization that he’s going to have a baby striking him down to his core.

He’s going to have a baby.

He has no idea what he’s doing.

Eddie pulls Buck from his chair, leading him to the bed that Buck had slept in when he first arrived.

He sits Buck down and sits beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“I think we should have a rocking cradle,” Eddie says after a moment.

“Yeah?” Buck asks.

“A rocking cradle like Christopher had,” Eddie tells him, “Could have Chimney order one special.”

“Alright,” Buck says, thinking that sounds nice, “A rocking chair too?”

Eddie begins stroking his thumb over Buck’s shoulder, “Course, if you want one.”

Buck nods, “We had one in our nursery, Maddie and I. Our nannies and governess used to read to us and we’d take turns sitting in her lap.”

Eddie furrows his brows, looking at Buck, “You had nannies and a governess?”

Buck nods, “There were different nannies over the years, until we had our governess, Anne.”

“Not your mother?”

“Oh no, Mother was too busy for that.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but his body tenses, “Darlin’, I’m not sure I understand.”

Buck turns his body towards him, “What’s not to understand?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Buck can’t make out what’s going through his mind. 

“Your mama didn’t read to you?”

“No,” Buck answers truthfully.

“And your pa didn’t either?”

“No.”

“But your– Anne did?”

“Yes.”

Eddie hums, “It’s hard to imagine, someone such as yourself, who loves Christopher so deeply and gives him every ounce of your attention, grew up that way.”

“Wha- No, it wasn’t-,” Buck tries to figure out what to say, “That way was normal. For our family. For the society we lived in.”

“I bet it was lonely,” Eddie says and Buck nods.

“You’d bet right,” he croaks.

He’d yelled at his parents back in Hershey about being lonely, but he’d never admitted before how young he’d been when he first felt it. Even with Maddie glued to his side, it had always been so excruciatingly lonely.

They’d dined with their parents once they were old enough, but only for dinner. Breakfast and lunch were served in their nursery and then the dining room when it wasn’t in use.

Once Maddie left for school, Buck had eaten alone. He’d spent so many days and nights by himself.

But it wouldn’t be like that here on the ranch.

Their children would play and eat and learn with him and Eddie and Christopher. They’d have Maddie, Hen and Karen, their children, and the hands. They’d have more love than Buck could’ve ever dreamed of in all the years he’d lived without Eddie.

This child would never know the loneliness Buck had felt his entire life before coming to live at the ranch. 

He would love them and play with them and shower them with attention. He would read to them every day with Christopher. He would do all of that and more every day and every night until the day they left his side.

Buck leans into Eddie, burying his face in his chest and lets himself be held. He lets Eddie lean them back on the bed and press Buck close against him.

“It won’t be like that here,” Eddie says, “I promise you. It won’t be lonely for our children like that here.”

Buck nods into his chest, “I know. I’m glad of it.”

He believes Eddie with his entire being.

“We’re going to love this baby as much as we can and then some,” he says into Buck’s hair, “Chris too.”

“I know,” Buck breathes.

Eddie’s hand slides down Buck’s side and down, until his broad palm is resting on Buck’s belly. 

“Come October, you and I are going to have the prettiest baby in the state,” he says.

Buck smiles, “Don’t let Christopher hear you say that.”

Eddie laughs and they lay there for a moment as he strokes up and down Buck’s back.

“This room used to be the nursery,” Eddie says, “Originally, my sisters used it after they were born.”

Buck hums. It’s a perfect room for a nursery, as it’s attached to the master bedroom, providing quick access to a baby.

“Could move some things around,” he continues, “There’s a cradle in the cellar somewhere, but I wouldn’t mind ordering a new one from Chimney.”

Buck hadn’t even thought about where they were going to put their baby. He’d only been too caught up in the fact he was going to have a baby.

“Either is fine,” he tells Eddie, curling his arm around his husband’s waist and resting his eyes.

He needn’t have been nervous. Eddie knew what he was doing. He’d been through this before with Christopher. Here, Buck is surrounded by people who would help and support him. 

Everything would be fine.

—

When Buck enters their room that night, it’s dark, only illuminated by the flickering of the oil lamps on either side of the bed. 

His heart swell with the knowledge that his husband had clearly been here already while Buck bathed. Lighting the lamps and turning down the bedclothes. He may have even fluffed Buck’s pillows.

He slips his dressing gown open in front of the armoire mirror, intending to reach for his nightshirt, when his eyes catch something reflected there. 

The bright, full moonlight filters in, providing subtle extra light, highlighting and shadowing his body in tandem with the candlelight.

There, in the reflection of the mirror, is the gentle curve of his belly.

Buck brings his hand up slowly, gliding it from hip to hip. The flesh beneath his hand is solid and firm, as if a muscle has flexed and hardened under his soft skin.

Buck doesn’t have words for this, how it feels to touch his belly, knowing there is a new life within, finally making itself known. Below his skin, below his muscle, deep inside of him, a life made of himself and Eddie is growing.

He watches himself in the mirror, feeling over his stomach, turning this way and that to capture all angles of the change in his body. 

Eddie finds him like this just a moment later.

“I noticed that earlier,” he says, coming to stand behind Buck, adding his hand over his belly.

Buck turns his head to meet Eddie’s over his shoulder, “You didn’t say.”

Eddie shrugs, “Thought you might like to find it in your own time.”

Buck hums. He’s right. Finding it himself had felt more precious, more outstanding for his own memory. He still likes that Eddie noticed, though.

“I guess the midwife was right,” he murmurs, looking back to the mirror, “She said I’d begin to show soon.”

He slips out of his dressing gown, tossing it over a chair, pulling on his nightshirt.

When he turns, he finds Eddie sitting up in bed, eyes following him.

“You should take that off,” he says.

Buck smiles, but shakes his head, “I’ve just bathed.”

Eddie hums, “Come here.”

He holds his hand out to Buck, until he grabs it, then pulls him into bed. He presses a kiss into Buck’s neck.

“Not tonight,” Buck sighs.

He’s tired. Has been more and more over the last week or so. Just feeding the chickens with Maddie makes him eager for a nap. As much as he wants Eddie, his heart’s just not in it tonight.

“Alright,” Eddie says, “I just want to hold you. That’s all, darlin’.”

He pulls Buck closer, leaning back to lie down, until Buck is straddling him, thighs spread over Eddie’s body.

Buck cocks his eyebrow, “This is holding me?”

“No,” Eddie says, drawing Buck down onto him, “This is.”

He pulls until Buck is laying atop him, face pressed into Eddie’s neck. He strokes down Buck’s back until he relaxes and lets Eddie take the full weight of his body.

Eddie sighs content, “Just like this. ‘S perfect.”

They lay like that, until Eddie’s breathing evens out in slumber. Buck shifts minutely to the side after a while, before letting his eyes slip shut and sleep takes him a few moments later.

—

“I’ve got to go into town this afternoon,” Eddie says in the kitchen one day, “I’m awful sorry Maddie, but I’ll need the cart.”

Buck snickers. Maddie has made fast friends with Chimney and as much as she refuses to answer Buck’s questions on the manner of their relationship, he’s no fool. He can see how much happier she is every day when she returns home from another trip to town.

“I’ll be stopping at Han’s for feed and ordering a few things,” he continues, coming to press a kiss to Buck’s cheek. “I’ll pick the children up when school lets out.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Maddie is quick to say, standing as if she’s ready to go, “I’d like to order a layette for the baby.”

Buck smothers his chuckle at her antics, “I’ll go as well. It’s been too long since I’ve seen Chimney again and getting off the ranch for a little bit would do me some good.”

He dutifully ignores the way Maddie’s eyes cut to him.

They load into the cart, but not before Buck adds a thick, folded quilt to the bench seat. His hips have begun aching when he sits too long and the jostling of the cart might do them in.

It’s a beautiful spring day. The skies are dotted with fluffy clouds and he points out every new baby cow, donkey, and goat they pass in the fields. Everything feels new and growing and alive.

When they reach the general store, Eddie checks his pocket watch and curses under his breath.

“Cut it too close,” he says, sucking his teeth, “School lets out in only a few minutes, but I’ve got to stop at the bank before it closes to settle the debt for the day.”

“You go ahead,” Buck says, taking the reins, “I’ll fetch the children and be right back with the cart.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” Eddie says, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Eddie heads off to the bank. Maddie decides to wait in the general store, while Buck collects the children. Buck does his best not to tease her about it, only giving her a smirk as she descends from the cart. He lets her walk inside without further comment.

He steers the cart down the rough dirt street, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun. He catches the scent of smoke and it reminds him of his plans for dinner that night. Roasted pork chops with a thick mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes, and deliciously fluffy rolls.

He can’t wait. His appetite has returned with a vengeance.

He daydreams of the dessert he has planned, a delicious apple tart to compliment the pork. He moseys the cart down the street trying to avoid the deep ruts, when he realizes the smell of smoke is getting stronger, the air has become hazy with it.

He looks around. Could someone be burning brush close to town?

He turns the corner at the main intersection and to his growing horror as he looks down the lane, he sees the schoolhouse with smoke billowing from its windows. The small group of children that attend are huddling a safe distance away, their schoolmaster gathering them close, looking frantic.

Buck snaps the reins, forcing the cart faster, heart in his throat. When he gets near enough, he begins to hear shouts of alarm. He stops the cart and takes barely a moment to throw the reins over a hitching post, not bothering to tie the horse to it.

“Christopher!” he yells as he runs to the students, “Chris!”

He feels beside himself with fear as he looks among the group of children, not seeing any sign of glass or crutches or the sweet grin of his son. He finds Denny and Mara, safe and sound, but not Christopher.

“Where is Christopher?” he asks the schoolmaster desperately, “I can’t find him.”

“He- I-,” the man turns, looking over the children, “I don’t know. I thought we had everyone here.”

“I think he was in the work room at the back,” Mara pipes up, tears in her eyes, “He was getting more chalk.”

“My god,” Buck gasps.

He begins running to the schoolhouse, only to be halted by a man in a heavy wool tunic and matching trousers. He stops Buck with a hand wrapped in a leather glove to his chest. His brown eyes look intently into Buck’s

“Sir, I’m Captain Nash ,” he says, “I’ll have to ask you to stop. The bucket brigade is forming as we speak and the fire will be under control soon.”

“My child is in there!” Buck yells, “We can’t wait!”

“I apologize,” Captain Nash says, not unkindly, “We’re going to get him out as quickly as we can. Please wait with the students and stay out of the way.”

The man lopes off to a group of firefighters handing out buckets to one another and even some townspeople that have come to aid in the firefight.

They can’t wait. They can’t . Christopher doesn’t have time for this.

Buck looks around, frantic, trying desperately to figure out what to do. The flames in the schoolhouse begin to lick through the windows as the smoke turns black.

He can’t wait. He will not allow his child to perish in that blaze.

Buck runs for the cart at the hitching post. He grabs the quilt off the bench seat, unfurling it from its fold, and dunks it into the horse trough sitting beneath the post. When it’s soaked through, he looks around, making sure the captain is occupied. 

When he sees the fire fighters all have their attention on the line starting to form from the well in the town square, he makes a break for it.

Running to the schoolhouse, he throws the quilt over his head, wrapping it around his body. He reaches the front door, and though he can hear shouts coming from behind him, he runs inside.

The school is like an inferno. The whole structure is made of wood and with the age and dryness of the building, it’s gone up in flames like kindling. 

Buck holds the wet quilt over his mouth and nose as he makes his way into the main room. His eyes begin to water as the smoke makes contact with them.

“Christopher!” he yells, “Christopher! Where are you?!”

There was no sight of the boy. Not by the blackboards or the desks or even the teaching podium.

Buck tries to ignore the terror beginning to course through him as he makes his way to the doors in back that lead to the work room.

When he goes to touch the doorknob, he stops, feeling the heat sizzling off the handle from the heat of the room. He steps back, raising his leg and kicking hard twice against the door, before it flings open. 

“Christopher!” he yells again, stepping through.

The work room isn’t burning yet, but it’s filled with thick smoke.

“Christopher!”

There’s a muffled cough to his right, then he hears a “Buck?”

He finds Christopher, covering his nose with his shirt, huddled under a table. Dropping to his knees, Buck gathers the boy under the quilt and into his arms.

“Let's go, quickly now,” he says, standing up with Christohper in his arms, draped in the quilt.

They make their way out, nearly being hit with a burning beam that falls from overhead. When they run free from the school, Buck draws in deep gulps of fresh air. He stumbles under the weight of both Christopher and the wet quilt, but before he can fall, hands grasp him, leading him further away from the enormous blaze of the building.

“Why in the hell would you do that, son?” he hears Captain Nash say gruffly, as he leads Buck to the grass near the mass of children, “What were you thinking?”

Chris pops his head out of the quilt, “Buck saved me, Bobby!”

“Christopher?” the captain asks when he lays eyes on the boy. He takes the child’s weight from Buck, beginning to check him over.

Buck sits heavily on the ground, shivering slightly at the change in temperature and the moisture covering him, “I couldn’t let anything happen to my son.”

“Buck!” he hears someone yelling. It’s getting closer, “Chris! Bobby!”

Buck stares at the ground. Everything surrounding him starts to feel far away. Closing his eyes, the adrenaline and terror begin to slowly leech from his body and he focuses on his breathing for a long moment.

Chris is safe. He’s safe and whole and not dead. 

Everything is alright.

He tells himself these things over and over, bringing himself back from the brink of hysteria over what has just happened.

Eventually, he hears the crunch of footsteps as someone comes to stand before him, but he doesn’t open his eyes. They must crouch down because he feels a hand warm upon his knee.

Opening his eyes, he’s met with the sight of Eddie. His eyes are wide and concerned as he looks Buck over. 

“Are you alright, darlin’?” he asks.

“Yes,” Buck rasps, “Is Chris alright?”

Eddie nods, “Our boy is just fine. Because of you.”

He leans forward, gathering Buck into his arms, pressing a hand to the back of his head and rocking him slightly.

“Holy shit, Buck,” he’s mumbling into Buck’s hair, “I mean, holy shit.”

Eddie is breathing heavily, as if on the verge of tears. When he pulls back, he keeps a tight grip on Buck’s arms.

“C’mere,” he says, mouth crooking up at the ends. He hooks his fingers beneath Buck’s chin and draws him in for a kiss.

Buck doesn’t resist the instinct to reach out for Eddie. He threads his fingers through his hair and curls the other hand around his neck. He kisses him, aching with the need for comfort.

Eddie presses his lips to the corner of Buck’s mouth once more, breathes out, and says:

“God, I love you.”

Buck’s breath catches in his throat. The words buzz through him from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet.

Eddie loves him. Loves him.

“I love you too,” Buck says, earnest in his words, “So much.”

Eddie gives him a grin, cupping his cheek, “I know, darlin’. I know.”

They’re interrupted by a throat clearing behind them.

“I feel like it didn't even occur to you to be concerned about yourself there,” Captain Nash says, standing with his arms crossed.

Buck sees the bucket brigade behind him, handing bucket after bucket of water to one another and throwing them into the blazing schoolhouse.

“I apologize,” Buck says, sheepish and embarrassed. It feels like he’s about to be lectured by his governess for doing something foolish.

“But, you were certainly brave,” Bobby relented, reaching down and placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder, “Who knows what would have happened to Christopher without your quick thinking.”

A woman comes up behind the fire captain. She’s beautiful with short black hair and a silver star shines against her chest.

The sheriff, Buck thinks, Miss Athena, the fire captain’s wife.

As if on cue, Christopher yells out, “Miss Athena! Buck saved me!”

She graces the boy with a smile, “So he did, Christopher.”

Buck stands, Eddie pulling him to his feet. Dusting his hands on his trousers, he holds one out for Captain Nash to take.

“Bobby Nash,” he says, nodding as they shake hands.

“Evan Diaz,” Buck replies, “But I go by Buck.”

He turns to the sheriff then, her hand is already mid air, waiting for him to take it.

“Athena Nash, sheriff,” she says, pumping his hand up and down, “That was quite brave of you, foolish, but quite brave.”

“I just,” Buck starts, feeling chastened over his actions, “I couldn't leave my son in danger. Not for another second.”

She hums, “Well, I can certainly appreciate that. When we have babies in this world, they become the most important thing to us.”

“Buck’s having a baby!” Christopher pipes up, once again.

Both Bobby and Athena’s eyebrows shoot high on their heads at the information. Their expressions turn to shock.

“Like I said,” Athena huffs out with a laugh, “Brave, but foolish.

—

That evening, Buck lays in bed, Christopher tucked into his side.

He'd been running his fingers through the sleeping boy's curls until he fell asleep. Now he lays dozing with his son, safe and sound, after the hard events of the day.

He's disturbed as the bed behind him shifts and an arm comes around his stomach.

"Hey," Eddie whispers, pressing a kiss into Buck's neck.

Buck hums, turning his head for Eddie to press another kiss to his cheek.

They lay there for a long moment, listening to the sounds of Christopher's deep breathing.

"Darlin'," Eddie whispers behind him, "I need to ask something of you."

"Hm?" Buck asks. He'd been right back on the precipice of sleep.

"What you did today was amazing," he says, staying low and quiet not to wake Christopher, "But I can't have you doing something like that again."

"I had to save Chris," Buck whispers back.

"I know," he says in to Buck's neck, "I know you did and I'd want you to do it again, if no one else was there, of course."

His hand moves from Buck's waist to cup his belly.

"But if anything were to happen to you. To this baby," he sucks his teeth quietly, "I just know I wouldn't survive it, darlin'. Chances are something like this will never happen again, but I need to ask that if it does, you try to find help first before running in yourself."

Buck hums, thinking it over, "Alright, I understand. As long as you understand that if no one else were there, I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Yeah," he says, pulling Buck tight against his body, "That's our understanding then."

They're quiet for a moment. Long enough that Buck thinks Eddie may have fallen asleep. Long enough to begin to doze again himself.

"I love you, Buck," he hears Eddie whisper, "My life didn't truly start, until you were here with me and Christopher."

Buck reaches down to wrap his hand tight around Eddie's arm, "Neither did mine. I love you more than anything."

Then they're quiet, finally allowing themselves to drift off to sleep

—

Come June, the house is bursting with life and merriment as they hold Christopher’s eighth birthday party.

The Wilson’s are present, along with Ravi and Albert. Maddie is having the time of her life with Chimney, whom she insisted be invited. The newest additions to their invite list are Bobby and Athena Nash, who have brought along their children, May and Harry.

They’ve just finished a fine dinner of red flannel hash, fried potatoes, and creamed corn. Buck had served it with freshly baked bread and homemade blueberry jam. 

They had all sung to Christopher as he blew out candles on his double layer chocolate cake. 

Now, having retired to the parlor, Buck delights in having such a full house.

There’s just– something about having the Wilson’s and ranch hands, his sister and Chimney, and the Nash’s all together here in this house. There’s a liveliness he soaks up.

They’re sharing whisky by the glass as the children run and play with Christopher’s new toys.

Hen and Karen are singing while they pick up wrapping paper, warbling a bawdy tune, while Maddie and Chimney watch them with laughter.

Hen sways into Buck’s space when she gets close, “Shall we have some music?”

He knows she’s thinking of asking Eddie to play, but for the first time in a long while, he decides to play himself.

He doesn’t hesitate, waltzing over to the piano, flipping open the box of sheet music Maddie had brought with her from Hershey.

He pulls out Mozart and as he gets situated on the bench seat, the chattering around the room ceases. Everyone is watching as he gets comfortable and begins.

He works his way, more confidently than he feels, through sonata after sonata.

The piano is dreadfully out of tune, but he continues as if he’s playing a baby grand instead of an old piano in their parlor.

“Where did you learn to play like this?” Ravi asks, moving closer to Buck’s side.

“It’s traditional for a carrier of my station to be well versed in music,” Buck explains.

“Oh?” Ravi asks.

“We’re expected to be able to entertain our guests,” Maddie tells him, moving to Buck’s other side. She turns the page for Buck, giving him a quick grin.

“Buck was much more interested in being a conversationalist though,” she says.

“That’s a skill?” Athena asks, curiously.

“To some, but not many,” Buck admits, embarrassed.

The song comes to an end and he stretches his hands. Maddie sits beside him, picking a duet for them this time and they begin with ease.

“We had tutors,” Buck says after a while, “Our mother had us taught from a very young age.”

“You had tutors?” Karen asks now.

“Oh, certainly,” Maddie answers, “Tutors and nannies and a governess. Then I was sent off to New York for boarding school and Philadelphia for finishing school. Buck was sent to the same only a few years later.”

He nods, focusing on the keys for a moment, doing his best not to trip over them.

“You both went to finishing school?” Chimney asks. He sounds bewildered.

Buck grins. The lives he and Maddie lived were so different from the way people grew up here. He’s so very glad his children won’t be raised the same way as he was.

“Yes,” he tells Chimney, “But it was dreadfully tedious and stagnant and lonely. Not at all like here.”

Chimney hums, “Sounds mighty nice though. Expensive and extravagant, a luxury of an education.”

Buck turns that over in his head. He’d been afforded a great many things. Luxuries he’d never have again. Seaside trips and fine hotels. Tutors and an education more than most could afford. The opportunity to attend operas and ballets. Balls and galas.

His life had been easy, though tedious. Pleasant, but lonely. Indulged, but without approval or attention.

He’d never had to want for anything. 

But he had.

He had wanted.

So much. Too much, according to his parents.

He had longed for a family. A true, loving family.

He had longed for something denied to him due to his sex. Something that he’d thought would always be denied to him.

Freedom.

Freedom that he was able to find right here.

With Eddie.

Eddie who loves him.

“Sounds boring to me,” Eddie says, interrupting Buck’s thoughts.

“It certainly was,” Buck agrees, “Not like here. Where there’s always something that needs doing and someone to help you with it.”

Maddie keeps playing as Buck turns to face the room.

Hen and Karen have started a lively dance together by the window. Bobby has taken May’s hand to invite her to dance as well. Ravi and Albert have settled in to listen to the song on the settee, holding hands.

No, he thinks, Nothing has ever been like this place. Like this ranch. With his family.

—

That night he, Eddie, and Christopher gather on the porch, seeing everyone off. They wave their goodbyes and Eddie has turned to the door, his hands atop Christopher’s shoulders, leading him inside.

Buck takes one last look out over the fields, eyes catching on the expanse of the starry sky.

A star streaks across the inky-black endlessness and Buck smiles.

He closes his eyes.

Instead of making a wish, he gives a thank you.

Chapter Text

On October 18th, 1903, Poppy Jane Diaz came into the world squalling. Her sharp cries rang out while the ranch was still quiet in the early hours of the morning.

Her older brother was tucked into bed at the Wilson’s, waiting for word of her arrival. The chickens and horses were still sleeping, unaware of the new life that had just been born.

Maddie and Hen ran in and out with clean linens, while Sue cleaned Buck up after swaddling his newborn daughter and handing her to Eddie.

Buck is spent and exhausted. His legs feel weak even though he’s been laying for long hours laboring in bed. Sweat covers his frame, but he’s blessedly not in so much pain any longer.

Eddie stands next to the bed, grinning down with tear filled eyes at their daughter. He gently rocks her, cooing to her sweetly.

When he looks back to Buck, Buck holds up his hand hissing, “Don’t look!”

“I’ve seen it all already, darlin’,” he huffs.

Hen comes forward, a wet washcloth in her hand. She dabs the sweat off Buck’s brow with one hand.

“You did so well, Buck,” she says, giving him a gentle smile, “Lie still and rest a moment.”

She leaves the room again, carrying the messy pile of linens Sue had left at the foot of the bed.

“You wanna meet your daughter?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

Buck holds his hands out, taking the baby with great care, pulling her to his chest.

“She’s the most beautiful thing,” he says and tears stream down his face.

“Yes she is,” Eddie agrees, coming to sit at the edge of the bed, “She’s beautiful and perfect and all ours.”

“You didn’t hope for another boy?” Buck asks, running the back of his fingers over Poppy’s cheek. The baby makes a small sound, as if disgruntled or disturbed.

“No, darlin’. I only hoped for the health of you and our baby,” he tells Buck.

Buck huffs out a laugh, knowing Eddie is telling the truth.

His husband had spent the past two months in a near constant state of agitation and fear over something happening to Buck during birth.

The man had been adamant that Buck not lift a finger, going so far as to try and restrict him from feeding his chickens or filling his own wash tub with water. Buck had put a stop to that particular nonsense as soundly as he could, though Eddie still had Hen follow him out to the coop and garden and anywhere else Buck went.

She and Buck had several good laughs at Eddie’s antics.

But Buck understood. Eddie had lost one spouse to childbirth before. There were certainly reasons for Eddie to be so concerned. So he always took the time to reassure his husband, to be there and lend an ear for his worries and concerns.

And if he let Eddie do all the heavy lifting, just so he could run his eyes over his husband’s muscles and appreciate his form, Buck would keep that to himself.

Maddie and Hen walk back in. One carries more clean linens and a new nightshirt and the other a basin and pitcher of clean water. They walk to the bed and the sight of the nightshirt makes Buck aware of the one he’s wearing. How it’s surely soaked through with sweat and blood and all manner of bodily fluids he doesn’t want to think about yet.

He goes to sit up and Maddie says, “Easy now.”

Buck lets his sister help resettle him against the pillows lining the headboard.

“She’s beautiful,” Maddie tells him, “Absolutely beautiful.”

“And completely healthy. Totally normal,” Sue says from a chair at the foot of the bed.

Buck looks back at his daughter. He gazes down at her pink cheeks and puffy face, and her abundance of dark curly hair. Then the baby opens her eyes, cracking them, and blinking slowly up at Buck.

“She has your eyes, the lucky girl,” Eddie says quietly, sounding awed.

They gaze down at their daughter’s eyes, blue as Buck’s own.

“She looks like you,” Buck says, “She’s got your nose and hair color.”

Eddie chuckles, “And your curls. She’s a perfect mix of the both of us.”

He reaches out, brushing Buck’s hair back from his face, “I’m so proud of you, darlin’.”

Buck ducks his head, looking at his little girl once again, blinking the unshed tears from his eyes. Even now, knowing how much love is there between them, it’s still hard for him to believe how proud Eddie is of him. Even in the face of his husband’s endless love, there are times he struggles with how true it really is because he thought he’d never have this.

“Hand her over,” Maddie says, reaching towards the baby at the side of the bed, “I need to meet my niece.”

She takes the baby carefully from Buck’s arms and cradles her to her chest.

“She’s a solid little thing,” Maddie says, grinning at Buck.

Buck scoffs, “I guess you could say that.”

He watches as his sister takes his daughter in, running a finger over her nose. There’s a wide smile on her face when she looks back to Buck. It’s an infectious thing, spreading over Buck’s face too.

His sister is so happy now. She’s left her old life behind and created a new and wonderful one here with them. He’s certain that any day now, Chimney will begin courting her and before long, they’ll wed and live happily ever after. Just as Buck has done.

“I love you so much,” Eddie says, coaxing Buck from his thoughts and to turn so he can push a kiss to his forehead, cheek and mouth.

“So much,” he repeats, kissing Buck’s lips once more.

“And I love you,” he says. 

He turns back to Maddie reaching out for his daughter. When she’s wrapped back in his arms, he presses a small, gentle kiss to her forehead. He watches her eyes widen and turns to cradle her between him and Eddie. She looks up, taking Eddie in for the first time.

“That’s your Pa,” Buck tells her. She doesn’t make a sound, just gazing up at her adoring father. Buck didn’t say those words for her, though. It was for Eddie.

His husband is looking between their daughter and Buck, with wide eyes.

“I sure am,” he says, blinking away a few unshed tears, “And this is your Daddy” he tells their baby girl, nodding his head toward Buck.

Buck has to hold back the tears welling in his eyes once again. 

They’d built this together. This home. This life. This family.

The awe of having everything he’s ever wanted washes over him, leaving him feeling complete and whole.

Outside, the darkness of the night sky is slowly turning lighter, becoming purple at the edges as dawn draws near.

Soon, it will be morning and Christopher will come to meet his baby sister. 

Then eventually, the rest of the Wilson’s will come too. Then the Nash’s. And finally Chimney and the ranch hands. All to welcome a new soul into their fold.

Buck looks back to Eddie and the baby, to his sister and to Hen. He watches as everyone smiles at each other as they move about the room, cleaning up.

He settles back into bed, allowing Eddie to take their daughter once more. 

The exertion from labor is finally catching up to him. He sinks into his pillow, pulling up the quilt as he slips slowly into a deep sleep and he dreams of fields of wildflowers.

—

October 1905

—

Buck hisses, holding up his hand to inspect it.

Sure enough, there’s a splinter deep in his finger.

“Fuck,” he says, kissing his teeth. Setting the broom he’d been sweeping the porch with aside, he begins trying to wrangle the splinter from his skin.

As he picks out the splinter, his ears pick up the sound of giggling and angry clucking coming closer by the second. 

Looking up, he bears witness to his daughter, running closer and closer to the porch, with her hair coming out of the braids he’d just done that morning. There’s no telling where the red ribbons he’d tied the braids with have gone. The red gingham dress Buck had made just for today is dusted in dirt along with a few white feathers. 

In front of her a white chicken skedaddles desperate to evade the girl. Poor Pollyanna runs as fast as she can, clucking furiously at the tiny terror following her.

“Poppy!” Buck hollers, “Stop chasing Pollyanna!”

Stepping off the porch, he scoops up his daughter, lifting the struggling girl into his arms. She wriggles wildly, trying to get back down.

Poppy giggles, her hair unraveling from her braids entirely. She pushes at his hands and she twists herself about.

“I swear, you’re more and more like your Aunt Maddie every day,” Buck says, laughing despite his agitation over her hair and dirty dress.

She gives him a wide grin and one curl has made its way into her mouth, sticking against her teeth. 

Buck holds her on his hip, walking across the porch and into the front door. She giggles as he tickles her belly and they make their way into the sitting room.

“Edmundo Diaz,” Buck says from the doorway, trying to sound stern.

“Hm?” Eddie hums, looking up from his desk. He’s got a ribbon strung around his neck and his hands remain on the paper he’s folded over the gift he was in the middle of wrapping.

“I thought you were watching your daughter so I could get the porch cleaned off,” Buck says, wrapping his hands around Poppy and holding her out toward her Pa.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, turning the gift to hold down the paper, “Just had to get this wrapped before everyone begins to arrive.”

“Oh, to be sure,” Buck says,scoffing and grinning.

“I did,” he says, coming to collect the little girl, “Wanted to be ready for the party.”

“I know,” Buck says, “But I have to get things ready too.”

He passes Poppy to Eddie. Her Pa beams down at her. She meets his gaze, beaming right back with the same grin. Buck feels a thumping in his chest at the sight of his girl and his husband. 

“Right, sorry, darlin’,” Eddie says, bouncing Poppy on his hip until she giggles. Peals of sweet laughter roll from her tiny body, “We all need to be ready for Miss Poppy’s second birthday party, right girl?”

She grins up at him, wide and happy.

“Yeah, I just need you to–”

“Keep her busy, I know,” Eddie beams up at Buck, Poppy watching him closely. 

“She was chasing the chickens. Poor Pollyanna is terrorized now. How about you take her to feed them and let me finish up here?” Buck asks.

“Sure, darlin’. Whatever you want,” Eddie looks back to their daughter, “Wanna feed the chickens, Poppy girl?”

“Thickens!” Poppy cries, nodding her head and squirming, trying to get Eddie to let her loose. When he does, she takes off, running for the backdoor in the kitchen, hollering to the chickens the whole way.

“Sorry,” Eddie says again, making to follow and stopping to press a kiss to Buck’s lips.

“‘S alright,” Buck says, “You can make it up to me by rebraiding her hair.”

“Anything for you, darlin’,” Eddie gives him that soft smile, “Good thing I’ve been practicing on the horses. Now I’ll be ready if this ones a girl too.”

Eddie reaches out, smoothing a hand over Buck’s growing belly. He steps closer, setting both hands on it and pressing a kiss to Buck’s cheek.

“Don’t want you agitated over this. You know our family won’t care if the porch is dusty,” he says.

“Well, I care,” Buck sighs, casting his eyes to the heavens. Lord, give him strength.

“When you’re done with the chickens, give Poppy a snack and start setting out the food,” he says, “I’ll finish taking care of the porch.”

“I’ve got it, darlin’,” Eddie says, amused and pleased.

He gives Buck that smile again. The one that’s soft and sweet. The one that means he loves Buck more than he could ever know and would bring him the moon to make him happy.

“Go on,” Buck says, taking Eddie’s face into his palm and pushing him away, “Wrangle your daughter and set out the food.”

“Oh, right, my daughter.”

“You’re hanging on my last nerve, Diaz,” Buck sighs with a grin.

Eddie laughs at him, leaning up to give him one last kiss and running out the door.

Buck can hear him leave out the backdoor, hollering for Poppy. He smiles, pleased. He feels chock full. Filled right up with love and happiness and home.

He walks back down the hallway and out the front door. Picking up the broom again, he begins his chore once more. Sweeping the dirt, dust, and other debris off the edge of the porch and into the grass.

When he reaches the end of the porch, he finds a few wildflower heads coming up through a gap in the boards. They’re bright and sun shaped, looking like yellow daisies.

He thinks perhaps he can add them to the vase of flowers sitting in the center of the dining room table. They might be quite pretty there even.

He bends down, intending to pull them up, but the change in his weight and girth of his stomach throws him off. He ends up falling forward, landing on his knee and forearm hard.

“Fuck,” he cries out. The last thing he needed was to fall flat on his pregnant belly. Eddie would be sure to lose his mind then.

But it’s too late. 

“Buck?” he hears Eddie call, coming from around the side of the house.

He must have heard Buck’s yelled curse.

Buck scrambles up, ignoring his smarting knee, and dusts himself off. 

“Eddie, I swear to god almighty, if you don’t get those chickens fed and the food set out right this instant, I’ll wring your neck,” Buck yells, desperate not to let Eddie find him askew.

He looks to the side of the house he’d heard his husband call from. There he finds Eddie peeking around the edge of the house, little Poppy peeks around it too, somewhere near Eddie’s knee.

“Uh-oh,” he hears Eddie say, “Daddy’s upset.”

The little girl giggles, covering her mouth.

“Daddy is going to come over there if you don’t get going!” Buck yells again.

He watches as they disappear around the side of the house. He can hear the fading sound of Eddie laughing hard and Poppy joining him. Buck can’t help but join in, chuckling to himself.

“Dad?” Chris steps out the front door, “You alright? I saw you fall from the window.”

Buck holds out an arm, welcoming the boy into his side, “I’m just fine. Lost my balance, is all.”

“You were trying to get those flowers, right?” Chris asks, “I’ll get them for you.”

And he does, walking over and bending down with all the ease of a ten year old, pulling the wildflowers from the boards. He gathers them in a bundle, bringing them to Buck.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Buck says, “You want to add these to the ones in the vase for me?”

Chris nods, but he doesn’t move to make his way inside. He looks at Buck thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Chris says, “I was just thinking.”

“Oh?” Buck asks, eyebrow raised, “What about?”

“About the first time I saw you in the kitchen.”

“Really?” Buck asks, surprised, “I hope they’re good thoughts.”

“Yeah,” Chris grins, “Really good. Just like that peach pie you made.”

“Can’t believe you remember that,” Buck says, stooping to pull Chris into a hug. He grips the boy's shoulders, pulling him close. He presses a kiss to the top of his head, rubbing across his shoulders and then pulls back.

“Thanks for being my dad, Buck,” Chris says, looking up into Buck’s eyes, “Thanks for making me a big brother. And thanks for the pie.”

Buck struggles to choke back the tears that wash over his eyes.

“No, thank you , kid. For making me a dad,” Buck rasps out.

Chris gives him a grin and then goes, making his way inside, flowers in hand. As Buck watches him go, Poppy and Eddie come around the side of the house again. The girl runs up the porch steps and inside, after her brother.

Buck only just realized she’d been running barefoot all over the lawn and chicken coop. Heaven help him, this girl will drive him mad.

“You alright?” Eddie asks, “Thought I heard you yell earlier.”

“I’m fine. Just saw a spider,” Buck lies through his teeth.

“I’ll keep you safe, darlin’,” Eddie says, leaning in to give Buck a thorough kiss. 

He grips the back of Buck’s neck, pressing close to deepen the kiss. Buck moans, opening his mouth and Eddie slips his tongue in, sliding it against Buck’s, getting him good and worked up. 

Then he pulls back.

“Remember that for later,” he tells Buck, rubbing his hand up and down his side.

“You’re a menace,” Buck huffs.

“Sorry, got to get the food set out before someone wrings my neck,” Eddie says, shrugging and heading for the door.

“Yeah, well someone might wring it anyway,” Buck mutters.

“Careful,” Eddie says, grinning cheekily at him, “Sort of sounds like someone’s really thinking about wringing something and it might not be my neck.”

“Lord have mercy,” Buck grins back, “I certainly shouldn’t. That’s how I got like this.”

He gestures down the length of his body to his swollen belly.

Eddie leers at him, “Can’t help it if I like getting wringed by you, darlin’.”

“Goodbye,” Buck says loudly, pushing Eddie through the door and into the house.

“Love you!” Eddie yells back through the door.

Buck smiles, rolling his eyes, “Love you too.”

He hears Eddie asking Chris to help with the food. Then the sound of little slapping feet as Poppy runs after them, her giggles echoing out the door.

Buck walks to the edge of the porch, leaning against a post, palms smoothing over his belly. 

“Just you and me now, baby,” he says, looking down at his stomach, “We’re going to have a birthday party for your sister today.”

He feels a kick from within his belly.

“Your whole family will be there,” he continues, smiling softly, “You aunties Maddie and Hen, your uncles Chimney and Ravi and Albert. Even your grandpa Bobby and grandma Athena are coming and all your cousins.”

He chuckles to himself, “Your Aunt Maddie is so pregnant, she’s ready to pop. We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t go into labor at this party. Her husband would be out of his mind if she did.”

Buck turns, settling into a wooden rocking chair. He keeps one hand on his belly, rubbing over his unborn child. A warm breeze rolls over him, bringing the sweet smell of hay and grass with it.

He gazes out over the rolling fields of the ranch and the endless canvas of blue overhead that stretches for miles as far as he can see. A few horses stand around, heads lowered to chew on the grass in the late afternoon sun. Another chicken strolls through the yard, clucking softly and stopping to peck at the ground here and there. 

His eyes catch on a burst of wildflowers, this time purple ones resembling thistle. They’ve sprouted from a crack in the bone dry earth in the narrow ruts worn in the dirt from the passage of carts to and from the house.

He continues surveying, finding sunflowers surrounding the bottom of the horse trough. There’s a sprig of milkweed coming out the side of a wooden planter near the porch. A group of orange butterflies dart about, landing then taking flight, then landing again atop the small blooms.

He ponders over the tenacity of all these flowers. They have quite the willingness to struggle through drought and push through wood and out from under metal, all to live, to thrive and bloom.

He thinks of how he was raised and the way he was ignored by his parents. Of the things he suffered from that weren’t his fault. The way he felt he had to prove himself to everyone, just to demonstrate that he was worthy of approval. That he was worthy of friendship, family, and love. 

He thinks of finding all of those things here, given freely without exception. He thinks of how he found his freedom in Eddie.

Buck rubs his stomach again, “You know, baby. We named your big sister after a wildflower that grows right here in El Paso. Your Pa told me once, a long time ago now, that wildflowers don’t care where they grow.”

He feels the baby shift and an elbow or perhaps a foot pushes against his belly. He presses his other hand down, delighting in the life growing within him.

“You know, I think I’m a lot like a wildflower,” he says, “I didn’t care where I grew either, just that I did.”

Down the field, Buck sees a cart turn to enter the narrow lane that leads to their house. 

He stands, taking up the broom and goes inside to wait for his family to arrive.