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Buck is seething, chopping vegetables with so much aggression he ought to be worried about his digits.
"Bummer?"
Eddie's baffled as to why Buck's accosting him the minute he steps foot inside the apartment; when they were perfectly fine two hours ago at work. He's sure Buck's invite was for a home-cooked dinner and a movie, not a Gordon Ramsey showdown with passive-aggressive silence.
He drops his bag next to the counter and watches Buck continue his furious assault on a carrot.
"Well, hello to you too," Eddie replies sarcastically.
Buck ceases chopping, but only long enough to give him the stink eye and shake his head dramatically before he's back to ignoring him.
Eddie's first shift back with the 118 after the collapse of the well, had taken its toll on his body today, and he sure as hell doesn't have the energy in him to deal with this all night. He wants their usual easy company, Buck being tactile, and him pretending as best he can that he doesn't love every minute of being the centre of Buck's attention. With that in mind, he makes his way over to Buck and places his hand on the younger man's neck.
"Buck, what's-"
Buck stills at the touch and throws the knife in the sink, abandons the carrot, and steps away from Eddie's grasp, only to re-enter his space and lightly shove his shoulder.
"Bummer?" Buck repeats, though, much louder this time.
Eddie takes a step back with his hands up.
"Woah, there." What the fuck is happening?
Buck strides past, shoulder checking him on his way toward the stairs and up to the loft. He returns a minute later, throwing an envelope onto the counter that Eddie recognises has his handwriting on, and oh. What the hell?
"How?"
"Dear Buck, If you're reading this, I'm dead. Bummer." Buck chirps, nostrils flaring, and eyebrows so deeply drawn together, they look like Christopher's first-grade seagulls.
"Buck," Eddie sighs, still confused as to how Buck has this, but completely aware of why Buck is so pissed off. He remembers what he'd said in that letter.
Tradition and superstition had long established that they all have letters in their lockers for their significant others, just in case. While Buck and Eddie are not a couple, Buck is still the most significant other that Eddie knows he'll ever have. Hell, the letter had been changed from Abuela to Buck after only four months of them knowing one another. But Eddie had asked for a lot in that letter, and obviously, Buck hadn't wanted to hear it.
"You fucking suck at letters, Eds. Do you really think' bummer' is what I'd want to hear from you if you were dead?"
Eddie tries to hide a grin, pressing his lips together. He totally sucks at letters, Abuela's was hard enough, but Buck's took more than ten attempts to write what'd ended up in that envelope. Plus, he also didn't plan on dying, who does?
"I'm sorry, Buck, you know I'm not good with words, I just-"
"My letter is for you too." Buck interrupts like he can't help the confession flying out of his mouth.
"It is?"
Eddie has an idiotic vision of himself driving to the fire station to read the said letter, purely on the off chance that Buck had somehow confessed some posthumous love for him. Because at the rate Eddie's going, they will both be grey-haired by the time he has the balls to fess-up.
"Yeah," Buck replies, looking slightly less pissed, "of course it is we're, uh," he shrugs, whatever he was thinking of saying, he thinks better of it, "never mind. That's not why I'm pissed off."
"I figured that. Look, Buck, I know I asked a lot-"
"Eds," Buck interrupts, leaning against the counter, looking sideways at him, "it's not what you asked, it's... Me being Christopher's legal guardian is a big deal, it's not something you can ask for in a letter."
Eddie puffs a breath out and opens his mouth to apologise, again. Buck's still talking, hands flailing about, open as a god dammed book, pleading his obvious dedication to Christopher and fuck does Eddie love him.
"I need to know he's my legal responsibility if something happens to you, not worry that they'll take him away from me. Imagine if I lost you and then Christopher because I can't get my shit together and fight for him?" Buck pleads, looking utterly devastated by that thought.
"Buck, I know okay, I wrote that almost two years ago, a lot changed since then, plus-"
"Yeah, no shit! You nearly got buried alive last week, and left me with this," Buck shouts, screwing up the letter and tossing it at Eddie's chest.
Eddie catches it easily, and flattens it back out with his fingertips, reading the words he'd forced out of himself what seemed like a lifetime ago. Buck's not wrong; he deserves so much better than this letter, for one he's worthy of a best friend who isn't a complete coward.
"Eds," Buck breathes, having closed the distance between them, a finger hooking under his chin, forcing him to look up." I'd look after him like he was my own, you know that, right?"
"I know," Eddie agrees. Since the day he first saw Buck with Christopher, he's known.
"Then why didn't you just ask me?"
Eddie can't breathe. The heat of Buck's gaze, the proximity, and the likelihood that his heart is beating so hard in his chest that Buck can somehow feel it, is all too much. He turns away and heads to the safety of the balcony, where he leans against the cold metal and gasps in some fucking air.
Buck doesn't follow him out. When he glances over his shoulder a minute later, Buck is poking a thermometer into something in the oven. He's glad for some space really; Buck always seems to know when and how far to push without going over that smeared black line of theirs. Doesn't stop them from skirting it most days.
He attempts to order his thoughts for all of ten seconds, giving up when he realises that is fruitless, something about Buck's closeness earlier has damn near cooked his brain. All he can think about is how much he wants Buck that close to him again, just without the searing questions that could send them careening over that line. Or, maybe it's time?
He spends the next few minutes oscillating between the fear of finally coming clean and trying to pluck up the courage to tell Buck that he was going to ask, someday. He's partway through silently cursing Chimney for his part in this letter fiasco, though he’s also partly to blame for using it as a bookmark, when he hears the balcony door slide open.
With a deep breath, he turns to meet Buck's blue eyes, not expecting the anger from earlier, replaced with such softness. When he speaks, there's no demand to his tone; it's just a gentle question that Eddie knows he can push away if he needs to.
"Why didn't you ask me?"
Buck keeps his distance, careful not to make Eddie feel uneasy, and Eddie curses himself when he realises Buck feels like he's the problem. Without another moment's hesitation, he closes the gap between them and wraps his arms around him, holding on for dear life as Buck's arms weigh him down like an anchor.
There was a bro hug at the hospital, brief and not nearly enough for Eddie after everything that happened down in that well. This, though, the safety of being in Buck's arms knocks every seed of doubt out of his mind.
"I thought I would when we-" Eddie pauses willing himself to have that courage, just to say what he means. He tucks himself further into the curve of Buck's neck.
"When we what?" Buck asks, encompassing grip drawing Eddie in further.
"Were more," Eddie murmurs so low he's not even sure Buck hears. And just like that, the weight that has been pressing against Eddie's chest lifts.
Buck doesn't let go. He doesn't move at all, except to swallow. Eddie chances a glance up after a long settling silence to find Buck grinning out at the view, gaze dropping to meet Eddie's, eyes glistening.
Buck hooks a chair with his foot, and with the finesse of a swan lake dancer, pulls it from under the table, gets his hands under Eddie's thighs and settles him down onto his lap, arms circling back around him.
"You mean to tell me that the only reason you haven't asked me," Buck teases, the fingers of one hand finding their way under his shirt, dancing over the taut muscles of Eddie's back, "is because I haven't done this?"
Buck's thumb caresses down over the apple of Eddie's cheek, cradling and tilting his chin up, just so, tempting him forward with the gentlest of touches. Eddie's eyes fall closed, as he leans into his future, melting against the rough lips pressed to his. A soft moan falls from Buck's lips as Eddie pulls back and changes the angle, rocking forward, pushing up on his toes, in an effort to get closer, press deeper, and feel more of Buck. It's intoxicating, and his head swims at the feel of Buck's tongue sliding over his.
Eddie could do this all night, if only the damn oven timer that is now bleating would kindly turn itself off. Buck smiles up at him looking wrecked in the best way, and Eddie can't help but place another quick peck to those lips, before settling his forehead against Buck's.
"If something ever happens to me-"
"God forbid," Buck whispers against his lips.
"Will you take care of him?"
"You know I will, Eds."