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mollymauk-teafleak · 1 month ago

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the moon will sing (chapter two)

chapter one

Sorry this took so long to complete, tragically I'm not paid to write buddie werewolf fic. Huge and endless thanks to my darling gf @hangsters for beta reading

Please consider leaving a comment over on Ao3 and reblogging!

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Evan Buckley wondered if it was some kind of grand message from the universe when, not an hour into his drive towards a new life, his truck broke down.

He didn’t notice it was happening until it was too late. If he’d been paying attention, if he hadn’t been so swept up in the hopeless tangle of thoughts inside his head, he might have noticed the engine making the particular whine it did when it wasn’t happy, he might have noticed the usual orchestra of rattles and wheezes had shifted pitch in an unusual way.

But, the same way everything had been happening to him lately, Buck didn’t notice what was going on until he was rolling to a stop in the middle of the road, the engine hissing, smoke curling from underneath the hood.

“Shit…” Buck groaned, throwing the door open, rushing around to yank open the hood and immediately get a face full of reproachful black soot and heat, “Shit, shit, shit…”

The engine looked like a mechanic’s nightmare, a patchwork of parts that made no sense together, that shouldn’t have even fit in the spaces they were crammed into, like a child’s drawing of what an engine might look like. But that wasn’t the bit that worried Buck, the truck had looked like that for years. The bit that sent his heart crashing to the bottom of his boots was the black streaks clinging to the greasy metal, the wires that had turned completely to carbon, curled like muscles constricted in pain.

The truck that was supposed to get him to California, that was supposed to carry him on to something better than everything that came before, had literally set on fire after about a mile.

If this was a message from the universe, it had a pretty messed up sense of humor.

Buck braced his hands on the edge of the hood and tried to take deep breaths. Tears pricked at his eyes but he was determined not to let them fall, he’d cried more today than he had in the past ten years and the sun had only been up for an hour. It was just a truck. He wasn’t going to start bawling over a truck.

Not even the truck his sister gave him. Not even the truck that was the only present he’d ever gotten from anyone. Not even the truck that had been his only real home ever since he started hunting, the home he’d shared with Maddie for years, the truck that always felt safe and warm, no matter what kind of hell they were driving through. Not even his truck.

Buck took another ashy tasting breath and made himself walk back to the cab, digging out the map of the area he was currently driving through. He felt a fresh wash of guilt as he saw the area he’d marked out as the werewolf’s territory. Though whether it was guilt over wanting to kill the creature or guilt over not doing it, that was hard to say right now.

So he pushed it out of his mind and focused on figuring out where the hell he was now on this expanse of creased paper, which little capillary of a road was his current spot in the middle of this particular nowhere. He finally found it, following the winding branch for much longer than he would have liked before seeing a town. Even the map seemed to know that town was a very generous name for the tiny little dot but it was something. Something that hopefully had a garage and a half decent mechanic.

Buck took a deep breath, trying to push back that tight, panicked feeling, the press of all the questions he couldn’t answer. It was fine. It was all fine. This was just a minor setback, a pause, a funny story to make Maddie laugh when he got to California. He would find out what lay around beyond the edges of the map in his hands and just trust that it would be something good.

He left the map in the cab and moved around the hood again, ready to rig some fix that would take him those last few miles into town. There was some wishful thinking, far more likely he was just fighting to shorten the amount of time he’d have to push the damn thing. Either way, the only way to go was forward.

Into what, Buck didn’t know. But he did know he was scared as hell.

The day after the full moon felt like being underwater for Eddie.

It wasn’t just the bone deep exhaustion, the nerves scraped raw by too much adrenaline burned off too quickly, it went deeper than that. Every limb felt heavy, there was a dragging friction to every movement that was infuriating. Every sound was muffled, every smell was teasingly faint. It was being underwater, missing air, missing oxygen, missing something you’d never even thought to worry might be taken away from you. Because why would the world be so cruel, to rob Eddie of something he needed to live?

He knew Chris found it hard too. He was growing, in both bodies, and starting to feel the pressure of being pulled between two worlds, between the town and the forest, between the wolf and the boy. It was hard enough for Eddie, resisting the temptation of a mind free of anything more complicated than run, feed, wander. For Chris, the wolf body meant legs that didn’t fight against him for every step, muscles strong enough to bear the spasms that ran through them, a body that could get up and keep going when he fell.

No wonder he’d been quiet as Eddie tucked him into bed, drawing the curtains to keep out the rising son. There’d been none of the usual, playful attempts to squirm away and beg for another story, a glass of water, or shifting and making Eddie chase him through the house and drag him back by the scruff while both of them giggled helplessly. He’d just murmured good night, turning after Eddie kissed his cheek, pressing his hand against the spot like he was trying to hold it there.

Eddie had told him it would all be okay. He’d told him the feeling would fade with a good day’s sleep and a warm meal, he’d told him every full moon got easier.

And then, after he’d lingered in the doorway until his son’s breathing grew steady and gentle, Eddie had come downstairs to the garage. He’d lifted the shutter, thrown it wide, and stared into the sunrise for an hour until the sky was bright and the full moon had been completely stolen away. And he’d felt so, so empty, the only thing left rattling around inside him was the lie he’d just told his son.

As soon as the sun was up, Eddie forced himself to turn away. There was work to be done, now he was Edmundo Diaz again, taciturn but reliable mechanic for the tiny patch of the middle of nowhere the people called Moon Falls. This was his life now and he’d live it best he could, he’d make sure he was grateful for every moment.

Because even if he was forced to live between two worlds, they were both better than the one he’d left behind in Texas.

Christopher could sleep off their hunt for most of the day, if he wanted, but Eddie had work to do. You survived in towns this isolated, this insular, by being useful and, sure, most of his customers didn’t have any other choice but to come to him when their vehicles broke down but he didn’t want them to resent that fact. He did good work, he did it fast and he did it cheap. That way the folks in town would nod politely to him when they crossed paths in the one general store, the one diner, the one main street and, more importantly, they’d keep their noses out of his business. And Eddie had more than his fair share of things he needed people to turn blind eyes to.

So he buried himself in work, in the partially dissected but slowly reforming little car that belonged to Mrs Gonzales. How a tiny old lady drove like a nascar adrenaline junkie was beyond him, he had to rebuild the damn thing every six months or so. He was well practiced at it by now, the motions comfortable and well worn, so much so that he found himself wishing Mrs Gonzales had put her foot down a little harder. He needed something challenging, something to keep his brain focused on anything but the woods.

Anything but the stranger who’d stumbled into them last night.

Just thinking about him made Eddie’s blood run hotter, made his claws press at his nails and itch furiously. The way he stank of silver and wolfsbane and gunpowder, the way he’d trampled through their forest, their home and laid his cruel traps, turning their place of safety and freedom into a knife held at their throats.

Emotions were simpler as a wolf but they were felt more keenly. Eddie could still taste the fear and fury that had rushed through him when he’d found that first trap. He’d seen it immediately, he knew to expect danger around every corner, even when he felt safe. But Chris didn’t. Chris didn’t know any life but the one Eddie had built for him, a life where he was protected and didn’t even know what silver smelled like. Where he didn’t know how cruel humans could be to creatures they couldn’t tame.

When Eddie heard the howl of pain from Christopher, he realized he’d failed.

He’d been ready to tear the hunter apart for that. For making his son know the bite of silver, for making him feel the same pain and the same fear Eddie had grown up feeling. Even now his hands were shaking, desperate to rip something to shreds at the memory of his own anger.

But then the hunter had done something almost worse, something Eddie hadn’t seen coming. He’d freed Chris. He’d helped him, he’d spared his life instead of taking it. Eddie would never believe it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes.

And now he had, he was forced to stand here and doubt everything he’d ever known about humans. Years worth of bitter anger and hate, hardened by time into armor, had cracked and now the questions were flooding in, making him feel small and weak all over again. Making the scars on his wrists ache.

Eddie shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to push everything away apart from the wheel mechanism he was oiling. Maybe he should have killed the hunter, maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he made the right call, maybe he didn’t. It was pointless to wonder about it now. The man was gone, stolen away like the full moon. If he knew what was good for him, he’d left the mountains far behind, fleeing back to civilization, hopefully with a large black wolf now stalking his nightmares. Eddie would teach Chris to be more careful, he’d cover their tracks more diligently and he’d put those questions to rest.

One human’s moment of guilt fuelled mercy didn’t wipe out years of captivity and suffering. No matter how blue his eyes were or how his blond hair curled.

Eddie’s brow tightened as the storm inside his mind dragged those particular thoughts up onto the shoreline. He quickly chose to blame his instincts, the full moon pulled certain baser needs along with it, ones he’d gotten well practiced at ignoring over the years. It was just the wolf, that was all. He’d throw it a bone soon, get Mrs Gonzales to watch Chris and drive a few hours into the nearest city, go to the bar with the dim lights and the expensive beer and the music that pulsed like a racing heart. He’d let the wolf choose a willing guy, take him into the back alley and pin him up against the wall, let the need burn off in grasping hands and dripping sweat and nipping teeth. A guy who had an apartment close by they could go to or a car in the lot, a guy who wouldn’t mind when Eddie crept out in the early hours without giving so much as his name.

Maybe a guy who had blonde curls and blue eyes and a tight jaw. Maybe a birthmark over his brow.

Eddie had never been so grateful to hear a car pulling up outside the garage door, a car he’d never heard around town before. He needed a goddamn distraction if he was really standing here, fantasizing about the man who’d set out to kill him.

“Be there in a second!” he called, voice a little rough around the edges, he’d sound a little growly for a day or so after the full moon like his vocal cords needed a longer while to remember how to work.

The answer he got was lost in a truly awful sound from the engine, so bad that Eddie winced. Already he was making a mental list of the many, many things wrong with the poor vehicle waiting outside as he went to grab the least filthy cloth he could find and wipe his hands down. He could already say with some certainty, based on sound alone, that the smartest, kindest thing to do was to send this stranger on to the junkyard. But with his thoughts still racing and his anxiety itching at his skin, he was already straining towards a challenge, a problem to fix, something to bring him back to clear, simple thoughts. The customer waiting outside his garage might be exactly what he needed.

Eddie was pleased that even his useless, muffled human ears had successfully identified the classic Bronco, even before he saw it smoking mournfully in front of the garage. It was a thing of beauty really, patchworked together and mud splattered and clearly running on pure stubbornness. Eddie had been right, he didn’t know this truck, but he desperately wanted to. He wanted to open it up and see every fascinating little homemade quirk, he wanted to see every patch and ingenious fix that had kept it going so long, he wanted to know the story under its hood and help it wheeze and rattle on to the next chapter.

Already Eddie felt more comfortable, more certain, his human skin stopped feeling like too tight shoes, started feeling slack and comfortable like the overalls he wore, his name stitched on the chest. Eddie Diaz. Everything was simple again.

Until it wasn’t.

“I’m really sorry to do this to you…”

Eddie froze, muscles locking tight as adrenaline flooded through him. The world shrank down to simple choices, the only choice for a wolf trying to stay alive in this human world. Fight or flight.

Because he knew that voice, he knew those footsteps. They were the same ones that had shattered the safe home he’d built for his son, that had come trampling into their territory. The ones that had made Eddie feel small and scared again and reminded him how heavy silver chains felt around his wrists. The ones that had made him question everything he knew about humans.

The hunter with the birthmark over his eyebrow walked around the Bronco.

Eddie could feel the fangs pressing on his gums, the claws itching under his fingernails. He’d been wrong, of course he had, he’d been a damn fool to ever think otherwise. He should have killed him back there in the clearing when he had the pull of the moon behind him. But he didn’t, he’d hesitated, he’d let the weakness show and now the hunter had changed his mind, he’d tracked them down. He’d kill Chris, he’d take his son from him, unless he acted now-

“I know it’s crazy early, you probably aren’t even open yet but my truck died on me back there and you’re the only place around?”

There was no gun, no chains, no silver knife. The hunter just stood there, looking apologetic, shy even, like it had been a long time since he spoke to a stranger. He looked different through human eyes, in the light of the morning. Softer, a smile on his lips, an easy way about him as he wiped dirt from his hands on the back of his jeans. He stood in the middle of that sunny morning like it was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Eddie felt the wolf retreat, sharing his uncertainty. The hunter had no idea. He didn’t even know he was a hunter right now, he wasn’t looking at them as predator and prey, those titles shifting by the second. He was just looking at Eddie Diaz.

Good. Eddie didn’t want to think it but the thought was there, whispered by the cold, flat voice of instinct. Strike. Now. Before he realizes.

He knew he should. This man was only standing in his garage because he’d come to kill Eddie, kill Chris. It was his purpose, his pull, he answered to the silver the same way Eddie answered to the moon. Even if this wasn’t some elaborate play to catch them unawares, the moment the man realized who Eddie was, he’d become the hunter again and he’d pounce. So Eddie had to pounce first. He had to do anything to protect Chris, he wouldn’t let him down again.

Eddie knew all of this but still, he didn’t move. He hadn’t been able to understand the hunter’s hesitation in the woods, he’d been driving himself mad trying to figure out why the man had decided to go against everything Eddie knew about humans, why he chose to break rules so firm that they’d left scars on Eddie’s skin.

But now, he felt like he got it.

“It's all good,” he kept his voice steady, glad that a lifetime of hiding lycanthropy had made him an excellent liar, “Can't exactly choose when a disaster happens, after all. I’ll get you back on the road.”

He wanted to protect Chris, more than anything. But if he could do that without spilling the blood of the man who’d spared his life, Eddie felt like he wouldn’t just be protecting him in the moment, he would safeguard something much more important. He didn’t want to be the reason those rules, the roles of predator and prey, snapped back around their necks. He didn’t want to hunt, he didn’t want to be hunted.

So he would lie. And he would hope that fate would let one moment of senseless mercy answer another.

Relief flooded the man’s face, though his laugh was nervous, “Maybe wait until you see the damage before you sign on. There was a…minor fire?”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up, curiosity pulling him towards the truck, “Is there such a thing as a minor fire?”

“Well…”

Eddie had the answer to his question as he popped the hood and released a cloud of thick, oily smoke. Maybe there was such a thing as a minor fire but this wasn’t it. The engine was as interesting as he’d hoped but right now it was more of a cry for help, a roadside accident you couldn’t look away from.

“Goddamn…” Eddie grimaced.

The man hovered anxiously over his shoulder, “It’s really bad, isn’t it?”

He knew the answer to that. He’d clearly been devotedly maintaining this truck for many years and many miles; someone who knew nothing more than ‘cars have four wheels’ could see that this one was beyond fucked. But Eddie could see at a glance how much this truck meant to him. Like most people who lived at the fringes of society, this truck was his lifeline, his bridge to freedom, one of probably very few things that kept him from feeling powerless. Losing it would be like losing a limb.

Eddie sighed internally. The universe was really making him work to pay off this debt.

“It is bad. But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix it, it’s just gonna take some creativity. And a good few hours, you better settle in, sir.”

The man smiled at Eddie like he’d just handed him the sun itself, a grin so large and full of gratitude that he knew immediately he didn’t deserve it. He would never deserve a smile like that.

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” he lifted his chin, his voice warm, “And enough of the sir. You can call me Buck.”

He stuck his hand out eagerly, blissfully unaware of the vast gulf he was actually reaching across.

“Eddie Diaz,” he gripped it, feeling calluses that nearly matched his own, “Pleased to meet you.”

The universe was definitely laughing at him.

The next few hours were some of the strangest Eddie had ever experienced. He didn’t know what to make of Evan Buckley, Buck to his friends, a category Eddie had apparently tripped and fallen into without even noticing.

He talked the whole time they worked on the truck, chattering away with a brightness that was completely foreign in Moon Falls where people were born with their lips sewn shut. In fact, the only other person who talked quite so freely around here was Chris. Buck filled the empty space in the garage, putting the radio out of a job, talking about everything and nothing simultaneously, the way people did when they had to keep most of their lives a secret. Eddie admired it in a way, he’d always taken the safer path of simply saying nothing.

He didn’t sit back and let Eddie work either, he didn’t retreat to the cracked leather sofa in the corner of the workshop with an ancient copy of Field & Stream. He rolled his sleeves up and stood across from Eddie, more than willing to stain his fingers and risk scraping his knuckles, immediately moving to help without even waiting for instruction or, frankly, permission.

Eddie was almost insulted at first, territorial, ready to point out that if Buck was qualified to fix this truck, he would have done it. But he quickly realized that having an extra pair of hands was really useful, someone to pull wires aside for him or pass him tools or to help him untangle the labyrinthine guts of the now virtually homemade truck. He’d been trying to teach Chris the basics of the job for the past year or so and the kid learned fast, the way he always did, but that was doing two jobs at once, fixing and teaching. With Buck, he was working with someone, someone who knew what they were doing and also found it fascinating.

Eddie told himself he was relieved when Buck said he’d go over to the diner for some breakfast. He told himself he wanted a few hours of silence, that he’d get his head down and finally get the truck fixed so his debt would be squared and Buck could drive out of his life, taking his complications with him.

Eddie told himself there was no spark of relief or anything warmer when Buck came back not an hour but ten minutes later, carrying breakfast sandwiches and coffees for both of them.

“I don’t know how the hell you convinced Mrs Jones to let you have a take out order,” Eddie mumbled around a mouthful of bread, egg and cheese, perched on his desk, “Normally when people ask, she hits them with a wooden spoon and asks them where the fire is.”

Buck laughed at that, cross legged on the workbench, “Same way I convinced the mechanic to fix my car at half five in the morning. I turned on the charm.”

“Is that what that was?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Could have sworn it was pity I was feeling…”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he flinched a little, like his own mind had smacked him across the face. He was doing it again, being too sharp, too mean, saying things that made people take a step back and look at him warily.

But Buck only grinned like he thought it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, shrugging, “Hey, that works too. Plan B was undoing a few buttons on my shirt and batting my eyelashes. Still might go that way if I don’t feel like paying you at the end of this.”

Instinct prickled across Eddie’s skin. He might be rusty to the point of uselessness when it came to friendly conversation but, even if it had been too long since his last visit to the gay bars in the city, he knew when he was being flirted with.

He could hear that silent laughter again, the distinct sound of the universe fucking with him. He was about ready to laugh along with it, what else was there to do when the guy he was undeniably attracted to, who’d walked into his life in a Hallmark movie level coincidence, and who definitely also wanted to have sex with him, was also the guy who came into town to kill him.

Eddie supposed there was one other thing, one thing he was exhausted and frustrated enough to do. He could flirt back.

“You’re more than welcome to try,” he smiled, making sure his eyes stayed locked with Buck’s as he sipped his coffee, “So. Where’s this truck taking you once we resurrect it?”

Buck took a moment to answer, like the answer still felt strange to him, like it was a truth he didn’t carry close and had to dig around for, “California. Los Angeles, to be specific.”

Eddie leaned forward, he hadn’t been expecting that answer. He wasn’t exactly an expert on werewolves whose surnames weren’t Diaz but he knew that warm, sunny, built up cities would be the last place to find one. If Buck was still hunting, he was going in the wrong direction.

“That’s a long way to go,” Eddie observed lightly, “Trading trees for sand?”

“There are still trees in LA,” Buck’s crooked smile didn’t last long, slipping from his face, “I’ll miss the mountains though, and the snow. And the stars…but LA has my sister and, right now, going to her is the only thing that makes sense.”

Eddie just waited, unable to take his eyes from Buck’s face, stepping back and letting him say more if he wanted to. He was good at that, leaving silence for someone else to fill, the way the forest did. There were some things it only felt safe to confide to trees and moss and mountains.

The words came in a rush, like they raced free before Buck could stop them, horses bolting through an unsecured fence, “Do you ever feel like there’s no place for you in the world?”

Eddie’s stillness became something that was no longer a choice, every muscle in him snapping tight and tense. Whatever he had been expecting Buck to say, it wasn’t that, not a thought that he’d felt nipping at his own heels every day of his life.

If Buck saw him flinch, he didn’t say anything, the words spilling out of him now that the damn had burst.

“I just feel like everyone else knows who they are and what they’re supposed to do and…and I did once, or I thought I did. I thought I had a job to do, I thought I was being a hero, making sacrifices for a good reason. But I was lying to myself. Sure, I didn’t start the lying but I kept it going, even after Maddie tried to make me see. Because I was afraid. I was afraid of this, of having nowhere to go and nothing to do but sit and realize how much it hurts. I’m not…I’m not meant to exist. I’m a mistake. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”

The tears had come somewhere in the middle of it all, without his permission. Buck dragged a sleeve across his face, looking shocked to see it damp. Eddie blinked rapidly to clear his own eyes, set his voice on solid ground so he could speak without it shaking.

Eddie didn’t know why he answered with the truth, of all things. Maybe because this whole day had been about repaying debts, keeping things in balance, and Buck’s reflexive purge of honesty deserved some in return. Maybe he felt sorry for him. Buck's face was like a mirror, reflecting every emotion, it was hard not to smile when he smiled, laugh when he laughed, cry when he cried.

Or maybe it was because Eddie knew he wasn’t just talking to Buck. He was talking to Christopher too and, maybe even more, he was talking to himself. Himself as a young pup, lied to and kept in the dark until he was taught to fear his own body, told that he was a mutation, a sin, that he needed to spend every waking moment righting the wrong of his own existence.

And it was about damn time that someone told the truth.

“You make a place for yourself,” Eddie reached across and took Buck’s hand, feeling his pulse thrumming under his skin like prey running for its life.

It felt strange to be the thing he was running to, rather than what he was running from.

“You decide for yourself who you are and what you want to be,” Eddie murmured, “Whatever reasons there are for your existence, whether you’re someone’s mistake or not, it doesn’t have to matter to you. You’re here now and you can be in control of what you do with that time. Whatever people said to you, Buck, they’re wrong. You can choose to be better than them, you can be everything you thought you were. And it sounds like you’ve already started making the right choices.”

“You think?” Buck’s voice snagged and tore, fresh tears spilling from his eyes, making tracks through the grime their morning of work had left. He didn’t try to wipe these ones away.

Eddie nodded, wondering if the pulse he felt rushing now was Buck’s or his own. He wondered who was chasing who, who was running towards what, “I know it, Buck.”

He’d told himself fixing the truck for Evan Buckley, his unknowing predator, was a selfless decision. He told himself that it was payment, addressing the balance, a burden he shouldered to show his thanks to the universe for sending the one hunter who actually had a conscience into his territory. A price gladly paid for his son’s life.

But Eddie couldn’t tell himself that kissing Buck was anything but selfish.

It wasn’t like kissing another man at the clubs in the city. That filled a need, it calmed the burning in his nerves but kissing Buck just lit more fires inside him. Suddenly he was hungry, a vast gulf opening inside him, a lack he’d never felt before but now roared to be filled. Suddenly it wasn’t a kiss, it was a hunt, Buck was something he needed to possess utterly, a fuel he would wither and die without. The wolf stirred inside him, baying for more.

Eddie would have panicked, he would have pulled away and told Buck to run, to get out of his garage, his life, and never come back. He would have, if the hunter hadn’t clutched him with the same desperation, clearly feeling the same pull he did. One hand gripped Eddie’s jaw like he was afraid he’d disappear, like he was physically clinging to this moment to keep it in place, terrified of its end.

Because what the hell were they going to do when it stopped?

The answer was, apparently, to keep going. The first kiss ended in a snatch of breath before Buck plunged in again, giving a whimper that seemed so soft for such a big, strong man, a sound that broke any hesitation Eddie might have had. He pulled Buck in, one hand still wrapped tightly in his, like he was trying to keep them both anchored here and now.

“Please…” Buck gasped out against his mouth, the end of the sentence swallowed by their hungry kisses.

Eddie didn’t care what he wanted, he would have it. Stars from the sky, snow from the top of the mountain, the very moon from the falls, he’d get it and press it into Buck’s hand. The more he spent with this sudden need, the more he realized he knew it. The same instincts that pulled him towards the forest, the ones that had been making him itch all morning, they pulled him towards Buck. Here, in his own human body, he felt whole as long as he was kissing Buck.

And when it stopped, when it all came to a screeching halt, Eddie felt himself break into a thousand pieces.

He didn’t feel Buck’s hand slip out of his own, slide up his wrist in a desperate attempt to pull him closer. But he felt the burn, the stab of pain, as the rings of old scar screamed under the pressure. He always wore the sleeves of his jumpsuit down, no matter how deep he was in the guts of some machine, to protect them from awkward questions as much as friction. Because burns from silver never really healed, not on a wolf.

And Buck knew it. He’d seen them for himself last night. In that moment, he looked through Eddie’s eyes and saw the monster he’d come here to kill.

Eddie barely noticed. He was too busy looking into Buck’s eyes, past that terrible realization, and seeing the man who’d put those scars there. His father, pulling away the shackles from his son’s wrists after leaving him hanging in them for hours, face contorting in disgust when he saw the damning burns underneath. Pressing on them until Eddie screamed, until it became a howl, the final proof that his son had turned into something that he’d never see as his son again.

It was that old fear that made Eddie lash out. He needed to strike first, he needed to tear out the throat of the ghost standing where Buck stood.

But Eddie wasn't facing a ghost, he was facing an experienced hunter. His claw tipped hand stopped in mid air, clashing against a forearm strong as iron. Buck pressed the advantage immediately, a fist slamming into Eddie’s sternum, forcing him back with a ragged gasp of air.

“Eddie…” Buck’s voice was unreadable, the shock in it too thick to hear what other emotions might lie underneath.

It didn’t matter. Eddie didn’t hear, there was only one name in the wolf’s mind. Christopher. He slept like the dead after a full moon but if he heard them fighting, if he came downstairs, if the hunter knew he was just above…the wolf only saw one way to keep that from happening.

He launched himself at the hunter, fangs loose now, his two forms blurring together. He ignored the pain in his ribs, he’d take any blow he had to, bleed as much as he needed to, so long as his pup was safe. The hunter moved fast, dropping and rolling, leaving Eddie to slam into the truck they’d spent the morning fixing, metal buckling under the force.

The hunter didn’t take the chance to run, damn him. He stood his ground, those blue eyes sharp and focused, hand disappearing into his flannel and bringing out a switchblade. The reek of silver just made Eddie angrier, more of the wolf bursting forward to snarl in rage. That cursed metal would never touch his son’s skin again, he’d die before he let Chris bear the same scars he did. He leapt, heedless, not flinching as the blade came up.

And once again, everything stopped.

The two of them were locked together, breathing ragged, impossible to tell whose heaving gasps were who's. The silver switchblade pressed against Eddie’s throat, wicked claws pressed to Buck’s. Either of them could twitch and take the life of the other, maybe in the same moment, they could have tasted each other’s life blood with less effort than blinking. It would be poetic. It would be right. They’d die together, proving centuries of bitter war were right, the scales finally balanced, the script followed to its last word and the fall of the curtain.

But neither of them did.

Buck finally spoke, forcing words through the frantic working of his lungs, “I said…I said I won’t hurt you, Eddie. I meant it.”

The knife slipped away from Eddie’s throat, clattering to the floor between them. The choice was his, then. Once again, it was up to him to believe Buck or not. To take the easy way out or not. To make his own place in the world or stay in the one he’d been given.

And suddenly, it wasn’t a choice. It was the strange certainty that came with a dream. Or the pull of the moon.

Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, his claws pulled back from Buck’s skin. There was a soft exhale of relief as their lips met again, though whether it came from Eddie or Buck or the universe itself, it was hard to say. The kiss was as sharp as the knives and claws had been, like they were trying to devour each other in a different way, like there needed to be blood drawn somewhere in this equation.

“Hold on…” it was the hardest thing Eddie had ever had to say and Buck looked utterly brokenhearted when he pulled away.

Though it collapsed into a grin and bark of laughter when Eddie just locked the door up to the apartment and turned the volume on the radio up.

“Your son?” he guessed, a charmed expression on his face as Eddie fled back to his arms.

“Yeah. Christopher,” one of the most precious gifts he had- his son’s name- was given with barely even a thought.

And from the way Buck kissed him, he knew what it meant.

Eddie pressed Buck back against the workbench, sweeping a hand across it to send papers and tools, nuts and bolts tumbling heedlessly to the floor, clearing a space to lift him up on to. Buck clearly wasn’t used to a partner strong enough to throw him around and, with the sweet, breathy gasp he gave, he clearly liked it a lot.

Though it gave way to a note of anxiety as he caught Eddie’s wrists, holding them in place at the waistband of his patched, dusty jeans, “I’m trans. That gonna be a problem?”

Eddie looked at him, unable to understand how any part of Buck could be less than perfect, less than exactly what he needed, “No. Of course not, that’s who you are.”

From the look Buck gave him, Eddie could tell that not every partner had taken that news in stride. It sent heat flooding through his nerves, boiling hot anger, a sudden need to tear out the throats of every person who’d made Buck feel like he was wrong in some way. He just about managed to turn that fury into passion, to shove the violence aside and instead suck marks across Buck’s collarbone, so he’d have something to look at and know there was at least one person who saw his worth. Buck gasped out his thanks in a sweetly trembling voice, guiding Eddie’s hands as he unbuckled his belt.

He was so warm. The skin beneath the stiff material and hidden weapons was soft as moss and smelled like the forest after rain. For the first time, Eddie was glad for his muted human senses, the wolf would be drunk on that scent, that touch, in an instant. Even now, it purred in Eddie’s chest, thrilling as Buck’s hands yanked down the zip of his overalls, pushed the fabric off his shoulders, skated eagerly down his stomach to grip his aching cock.

It was desperate, a little frantic, all grasping hands and ragged gasps as they shoved aside just enough clothing for Eddie to press the head of his cock against Buck’s hole, as Buck dragged two fingers up and down his length, coating Eddie with the wetness that had been gathering between his own legs for who knew how long, getting him just slick enough to press inside with more pleasure than pain. It was as gentle as two men who’d lived their lives could be, closer to the uneducated fumbling of two teenagers in the backseat of a car having their first time. Because, in a way, it was. This was something entirely new, to both of them.

Buck gave a strangled cry as Eddie slid in deeper, “Oh fuck…is the size a werewolf thing or is that just you, Diaz?”

“Don’t know,” Eddie confessed to his collarbone in between heavy kisses, “Never fucked another werewolf who had a dick.”

That made Buck laugh, the sound sweet, almost as sweet as the way it made him jerk on Eddie’s cock, “You’ve been missing out. That’s it, little deeper, fuck…”

They were a hopeless tangle, the workbench squeaking in protest underneath them as Eddie bulled forward, turning a little into a lot and earning a throaty cry from Buck. One hand braced flat on the bench, the other disappearing up under the hunter’s shirt to toy with a nipple piercing that, thankfully, wasn’t made of silver. Buck seemed to trust Eddie to be his anchor, fingers digging into his shoulders enough that there’d be bruises there soon but not soon enough.

It was messy, ungainly, making Eddie remember the first time he’d walked on four legs instead of two. But soon, just like then, he found that rhythm and began to run with it. Just like then, he felt that dizzying mix of joy and terror, the feeling of flying forward into something entirely new and unfamiliar. But this time, he wasn’t alone. He had Buck, moaning in his ear at the peak of every thrust, biting at his earlobe, urging him breathlessly as friction built.

“More, that’s so good…more, Eddie, fuck yes…” Buck’s breath smelled of coffee and sugar, his fingers furrowed Eddie’s skin, a necklace swung rhythmically between their bodies and rapped on Eddie’s chest like it was asking to come in, “Baby…”

Eddie gave a shuddering gasp at that, only one word rising up to answer that, “Mine.”

Buck nodded frantically, head tipping back as Eddie nipped at his neck, licking where the sweat gathered and his pulse throbbed in the hollow of his throat, “Yours. I’m yours, Eddie, that’s right. Fuck, I’m there…”

It was like the mad rush at the end of the hunt. The prey was in sight, the pounding in the ears grew to something deafening, the whole world seemed to hold its breath in that last moment, waiting to see who would fall. The answer was both of them.

Eddie roared as he came, everything rushing out of him and into Buck who arched up with a cry of pure relief. It was blinding, white hot, a sense of pleasure so consuming, so overwhelming that it came with an edge of panic because where the hell was it all supposed to go? How could it fit inside someone like Eddie without leaving his heart constricted and lungs collapsed? How was he supposed to hold it without tearing at the seams?

The answer came as Buck kissed him. The moment their lips touched, all the panic faded like it had swapped to a frequency Eddie couldn’t hear. There was just Buck, shaking with adrenaline, his hands on Eddie’s face, holding him in place and holding him together. For the first time, it didn’t feel like Eddie was caught somewhere between two forms. He was just himself, fully in his own body.

There was only one word in his mind but it was Buck who said it, his voice a rough, raw murmur and his smile warm as a bonfire on a cold, dark night, “Mine.”

Though, no. That wasn’t the right word though it was close, the same idea but not what Eddie’s heart was pounding through his body. That word was older, more of an instinct, straight from the wolf. And that word was mate.

The rules of their old life lay in shards around their feet. The universe, for once, was silent, content to leave them be. Eddie had no idea where they would go from here.

But they would go together.

He let his forehead rest against Buck’s and closed his eyes, listening to the wind in the trees just outside, “Yours.”

By the time the moon was back, Buck was back behind the wheel of his truck. It was no longer full but still huge enough to hang in the inky blackness like an eye, looking down on Buck through lashes of black tree tops. Though that missing sliver made it seem somehow warmer, like instead of staring down in mute judgment, it was crinkled in amusement.

And Buck smiled back.

Just like always, he held his breath as the phone rang against his ear, anxiety brimming inside him that would only ease when he heard that click of the connection, the sound that meant his sister’s voice would soon come through and remind him everything was okay.

Though the warm weight on his leg, the steady rise and fall of Chris’ soft fur under his hand as it rested on his side, did a lot to ease that anxiety.

“Buck?” her voice cracked on the other end of the line, “Hey! Is everything okay?”

Buck released that breath he’d been holding, wondering- hoping- that someday soon his sister wouldn’t answer his calls assuming something was wrong, “Hey Maddie. Everything’s fine, I promise.”

“Oh thank god,” he could hear her wry smile, “I’ve been expecting you to call all day saying the old truck set on fire halfway to L.A…”

Buck stifled a slightly embarrassed laugh, “Uh…yeah, funny story there. It did. Well, actually, I didn’t even get anywhere near halfway, it crapped out about five minutes after I set off.”

“Dammit, that thing’s a heap of junk,” Maddie groaned, “Did you manage to get it to a garage?”

Buck’s eyes flickered back to the shop, the source of the warm golden light pooling around him. Eddie was framed in the open doorway, wiping off his hands for the last time. Just looking at him was enough to make Buck smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did actually. They really saved my ass.”

“Good,” Maddie had clearly caught that note of something more in his voice, he could practically hear her eyes narrowing from all the way in California, “So the truck’s back in business?”

“Actually, I’m about to find out…” Buck shifted, pinning the phone to his ear with one shoulder, unwilling to sacrifice the hand still petting the dozing werewolf pup who’d insisted on cramming himself into the cab with him.

Eddie had tried to get Chris to go back to sleep, the kid was clearly still exhausted after the full moon. But he’d been so wildly excited to see Buck, so overwhelmed that he’d spent a good ten minutes flickering between the gangly golden pup running in circles and the beaming seven year old, standing up triumphantly on his crutches as he crowed that he knew it, he knew the nice man would come back! When he finally crashed, after asking a thousand questions and insisting on following Buck like a shadow as they worked on the car, he hadn’t had the heart to let Eddie carry him back up to bed. So of course, as he’d sat in the cab of the truck, Christopher had shifted and squeezed in there with him, promptly falling asleep with his head on Buck’s knee.

The warm weight of him was a comfort. If Chris accepted him, Buck knew the forest had accepted him too.

So, one handed, he turned the key. After a moment’s pause, the engine began to grind, finally coughing to life.

“That sounded like absolute hell so I’m guessing the truck’s working again…” Maddie still sounded like she was smiling but it was softer, sadder, like she knew what was coming but had to say it anyway, “So…are you coming home?”

Buck swallowed hard, his voice shaking just a little, “I think I am, Mads.”

Eddie walked over, leaning against the side of the truck. Buck didn’t need to look to feel him there, it was like he gave off warmth like a fire in a dark night.

His sister gave a slightly wobbly sigh, he knew there were tears sliding down her face, gathering in the corners of her smile, “Yeah?”

“I’ll still come visit, I promise,” Buck wiped at his own eyes, feeling Eddie’s hand resting on his shoulder, “And I’ll tell you everything. But I promise, I’m happy, Maddie, like you are in LA with Chimney.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be a hell of a story?” Maddie laughed softly.

“It is,” Buck snorted, taking a deep breath, “I know where I’m supposed to be, Maddie. I found my place.”

“I always knew you would, Buck…I love you.”

“I love you too. And I’ll see you soon,” he let that promise be the last thing he said, hanging up and letting his hand fall.

Eddie caught it, his skin warm and grip gentle but sure. His voice was a low rumble, blending perfectly with the sounds of the forest around them, as much a part of it as anything else.

“Are you really sure?” His thumb stroked across Buck’s knuckles, feeling the old scars there, left behind after a lifetime of fighting, “I know how much you’re giving up…”

Buck smiled, bringing their joined hands together and kissing Eddie’s fingers. He wasn’t surprised to find he had scars there too.

“But look how much I’m gaining.”

Chris yawned as Buck gently stepped out of the truck, scrambling after them as they walked back towards the golden light of the garage, of their home.

Buck wasn’t a child walking blindfolded through danger anymore, alone and afraid. He wasn’t living a fairytale, fighting imaginary darkness with a painted sword and silver armor that had never fit him right. He wasn’t a hunter.

And he couldn’t wait to find out who he could be instead.

#buddie #911 #911 abc #evan buckley #evan buck buckely #eddie diaz #werewolf au #trans buck #please reblog and comment!

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