#my guy you've got other things to worry about besides the hoa

[queerdiazs]

snippet sunday ⛈

this is WAY more than seven sentences but sometimes i just can't be bothered to count, especially after the day i had okay

but please enjoy hoa eddie being an absolute fuckin menace

“Actually, Mr. Diaz,” Henry starts, and it’s the tone of his voice, snarky and superior and fuck, Eddie’s encountered enough people in his life with this attitude to know he’s not the one, spent enough time in detention at school to know he’s not the one, but he spins around, anyway, because he’s a glutton, “you have to pay ten dollars for every person that spends the night.”  “Huh?”  “Yes,” Henry plows on, as if he’s clarified something. Eddie’s just as lost now as he was two seconds ago. “Your friend—Buck, I think. You have to pay ten dollars for every guest that stays over.”  That’s stupid. Like, his son is a popular kid, right, and he’s got loads of friends—more than Eddie ever had at that age but hey, his kid is fucking amazing—and now that he has a larger house with an even larger backyard, he knows there’s going to be weekends where his place is full of teenagers. He’s not paying ten dollars a head for Christopher’s friends.  Besides, Buck has his own room at the house. That has to count for something.  “He’s not a guest. My home is his home, too.”   Henry shrugs. “I don’t make the rules,” he says, and Eddie’s pretty sure that’s a lie since his photo is hanging up on the wall behind his chair. “Unless they’re part of the household or a partner, you have—” “He is.”  “Excuse me?”  An idea forms in the front of Eddie’s brain, one his sister’s would be laughing over since they’ve always had a way of reading his mind, and says, “He is. Buck, I mean. He’s my partner.”  “Romantic?”  Eddie makes a noise. “Does it matter?” He snorts a laugh, one that hurts his throat, and shoves his hand through his hair because he has got to get himself under control. What the fuck is he doing? “He’s my—my Buck. He’s mine.”  “Oh.” Henry taps his fingers against the desk. “I didn’t know that.”  “Yeah, well, it’s none of your business,” Eddie bites, a little meaner than he ought to be, but he can’t be blamed. Buck and Chris are waiting at home for him with dinner and dessert, and he’s here, haggling with a stranger over the special place Buck holds in his heart, and Buck’s worth ten dollars, worth ten gazillion dollars, more, yeah, but it’s the principle of the thing. “Now, I’m going home to him and my son. I’ll see you later, Harley.”  He snatches a pamphlet off the desk, turns around, again, and makes his way out of the office, ignoring the flustered call of, “My name’s Henry, actually!” because he’s tired, worked a 12 hour shift without his normal team because he owed a favor to the rookie on B shift, and he wants to go home, needs to go home to relax and decompress and eat some fucking cake, and this little club isn’t going to ruin another one of his nights. 

i was tagged by @hippolotamus, @jesuisici33, @callaplums, @honestlydarkprincess, @wikiangela, and @daffi-990

and i'm gonna no pressure tag @callmenewbie, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaztho, @exhuastedpigeon, @try-set-me-on-fire, @ladydorian05, and anybody else mwah