litreader217
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Summary
It's a Thursday evening, at the end of a 24-hour shift, and Eddie is in the bathroom at the house brushing his teeth when Buck leans in the doorway behind him and says, "I'm going to take a shower."
It's such an ordinary thing to say–Buck says it five times a week, minimum–except that Eddie's brain snags on the tik tok video from a few days ago, and his mouth moves before he thinks better of it.
"Information or invitation?"
He says it in the exact tone of someone delivering a punchline, light and a little teasing, clearly expecting Buck to groan at the callback and go shower alone. It is a joke. It is absolutely, entirely a joke, and the correct response from Buck would be a tired chuckle.
Buck doesn't laugh.
He meets Eddie's eyes in the mirror, something shifting behind his face, and says, "Invitation."There is a silence.
It's the kind of silence that Eddie can feel on his skin, that is doing something specific to the air between them, and he watches his own face in the mirror very carefully and does not turn around.
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Or: A buddie fic inspired by the tiktok "information or invitation?" shower trend.
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“I wasn’t even the one driving,” Buck snaps.
Eddie spins out to a stop: like tires screeching, like loss of control, like losing the thing that matters second-most to him in the world before he ever gets a chance to realize it. He spins like he’s beneath the scattered stars over the desert, like there’s nothing but dry ground beneath him, like there’s nothing, nothing anywhere except the crash and then the quiet.
No. Eddie had been driving.
in which Eddie comes over to find Buck's house empty; and everything spirals from there.
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The LAFD tasks the 118 with hosting community game nights, and Eddie shows up to every one with a different woman on his arm.
Buck doesn't care. He's not going to care. It's certainly not going to drive him to the edge of insanity.
(OR: Buck doesn't ask Tommy to move in. It changes everything, and nothing.)
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"Can I try something?"
"Yeah, sure, g-go ahead, man." Buck cringes, and even that is adorable.
"Close your eyes."
"E-Eddie," Buck croaks helplessly.
"I'm not gonna bite, Buckley. Trust me?"
Buck closes his eyes. Squeezes them shut, really.
Eddie tugs his face into the curve of Buck's shoulder before he can lose the nerve, Buck's pulse fluttering wildly against the tip of Eddie's nose.
Buck is struggling after the events in New Mexico. Eddie decides to move in with him about it.
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And, here, looking at his best friend, he can see that something’s broken inside him, too. And, maybe it’s the therapy he’s had over the years, his sessions with Frank, but Eddie wants to talk to Buck. He wants Buck to talk to him. Buck, who just looks so fucking sad, still in his dress blues, one hand drinking the beer, the other coming up to loosen his tie.
This morning, Eddie had noticed Buck tying, untying, retying the tie with breaths of frustration, fingers shaking. “Eddie,” he’d said lowly from across the room, and Eddie wouldn’t have even heard him if he hadn’t been watching. “I, uh, can never – I can never get this right.”
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In the aftermath of Bobby’s death, Buck and Eddie need to learn to embrace change, settle into a new normal - a life without Bobby, and life navigating feelings for each other. A vision of what season 9 could be.