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“You stole another one of my hoodies, didn’t you?”
Eddie’s voice sounds far too awake and amused as it drifts from the kitchen so early in the morning. A chorus of chuckles echoes right along with it, calling Buck home. He toes his sneakers off on the mat by the door and drops his keys to the side table before he peers around the corner, unsurprised to see the grinning trio occupying the small space around the table.
Chris, with a bowl of cereal in front of him, milk dripping down from his chin to his dinosaur pajama shirt. Eddie, in a sleep-rumpled shirt and hair sticking up in all directions, good hand wrapped around a coffee mug while his other rests in the sling. And Carla, leaning very casually against the counter by the coffee pot with her own mug in hand. The stress and weariness of a long shift slips free from his shoulders at the sight of them.
“Must’ve gotten mixed up in the wash,” Buck says casually from the doorway.
Eddie quirks an eyebrow at him, amused smile tugging wider on his lips as his eyes sweep over Buck’s form. He doesn’t have to say anything, his look does all the talking for him. Mixing up their sweatshirts was definitely not a mistake.
“Morning, Bucky,” Chris beams up at him, sleepy eyes scrunching up behind his glasses with the force of his smile.
“Morning, buddy.” Buck presses a kiss to the top of Chris’s sleep-wild curls as he peers into the nearly empty cereal bowl. Spying the beige shapes floating around in the milk, he frowns. “I know we need to go grocery shopping, but did your dad really make you eat Corn Flakes?”
Chris cackles as Eddie lets out an indignant sound. Carla hums, amused, as she takes another sip from her mug.
“No, they’re Frosted Flakes,” Chris tells him around another spoonful, holding up the empty box he was reading as proof.
“Good. I was about to go out and find you some sugar to get your day started.” Buck ruffles his hair once more as he moves past.
Carla moves to get him a mug, but he quickly waves her off. He’s exhausted. And as soon as both of his Diaz boys are taken care of for the day, Buck plans on crashing face first into the mattress for a long nap. Drinking caffeine will only delay the inevitable. She frowns at him, gently patting his cheek.
“You look tired, Buckaroo.”
“Long night,” he offers, giving her a smile.
“You’re later than normal. Everything okay?” Eddie’s eyes sweep over him again, but this time it’s a calculated move, assessing.
It's such a familiar move from the field, something so ingrained it’s second nature. One visual sweep to ensure the other is okay before moving on. The sudden pang of loss in Buck’s chest catches him off guard.
“Yeah,” Buck pushes out, searching for the words. “Been out since 1am. Rollover MVA. Long extraction. Even longer clean up. You know how it goes.”
Eddie hums in agreement. His hand reaches out and Buck slips in next to him easily. Eddie’s fingers slip underneath the hoodie and splay against his lower back. Buck’s hand automatically brushes against the back of Eddie’s neck, fingers sliding through the shorter strands. When Eddie’s head leans against his hip, everything settles. The restless feeling that has been itching at his skin all shift, the aching empty feeling in his chest, the odd feeling of sadness that just lingered around him, it all vanishes now that he’s back home with his boys.
“Speaking of being late,” Carla offers, voice apologetic even as it breaks the peace.
Buck looks down at his watch and sighs. “Yeah, bud, Carla’s right. You gotta get moving or you’re gonna be late too.”
Chris nods, dutifully finishing off his last swig of milk from his bowl before pushing up from the table. As he passes by Buck on his way back from the sink, Buck reaches out and scoops him up in a giant hug which leaves Chris squealing. Soon the kid is going to be too big for this, Buck thinks as those gangly legs kick freely.
“Have a great day at school, Superman,” Buck places him back on his feet and drops a kiss to his forehead. “Now go brush your teeth.”
“Have a good nap, Buck.”
Buck watches him go with a fond smile on his face, only looking away when he feels a small tug at the back of his hoodie. He looks down at Eddie, hand automatically drifting to soothe his wayward hair back in place as Eddie tugs him a little closer.
“Carla’s right. You do look tired.”
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely exhausted. His eyes feel gritty and dry, each blink feeling heavier and heavier. The temptation to close them for just a moment is almost overwhelming, but the need to spend just a few more minutes here, with Eddie’s palm pressed against his bare skin and his head tucked against Buck’s side, will always win out.
“Just a long shift,” Buck murmurs against the top of Eddie’s head. “I’m good here.”
“We’ll both have a problem if you fall asleep like this,” Eddie’s voice is muffled against Buck’s side, but he can hear the amused lilt to it, like he knows Buck is waging a battle to keep his eyes open and not slump against Eddie. “Go to bed.”
Buck grumbles in protest, but stands up straighter, so he’s not leaning against Eddie. There are things he needs to do today, things he should probably start before taking a nap. He knows for a fact that Chris needs laundry done, the poor kid is probably on his last pair of school shorts by now, and he should wash their sheets as well. Maybe a load of towels too. He didn’t run the dishwasher the day before so that has got to be top priority; he’s surprised they had enough clean dishes for breakfast this morning. And they definitely need groceries. Maybe he can start a-
“Stop.”
Eddie’s voice drags Buck’s wandering train of thought back to the present as Eddie’s thumb gently massages away the frown creasing his brow.
“Whatever you’re thinking about, it can wait,” Eddie murmurs, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Just go to bed.”
“But-”
Eddie pulls them together, as close as they can get with his arm still trapped in a sling between them. Immediately, Buck tries to shift his weight away even as Eddie pulls him closer. His hand soothing up and down Buck’s spine as he rests their foreheads together.
“You’re exhausted. Sleep.” Another soft press of lips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of Buck’s stolen hoodie. “I’m gonna get Chris off to school and then I’ll be in, okay?”
Even without asking for it, Eddie somehow always knows what he needs. The resistance leaves him and Buck practically melts against Eddie.
“Okay.”
He trudges down the hall, waving to Chris in the mirror as he stands at the bathroom sink, grinning with a ring of toothpaste foam around his mouth. Carla rolls her eyes fondly at them and shoos them both along. Once in the bedroom, Buck pulls back the covers and drops heavily to the mattress. He should change, or at least strip out of the hoodie and sweatpants, but he just doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he burrows into the blankets and pillows, letting the sounds of the house lull him.
Feet patter up and down the hall. Voices talking, pitch soft and words unintelligible as they drift through the walls. The kitchen chair scraping across the floor. A jangle of keys. The front door closing with a muted thump. Silence, filled by the white noise of the ceiling fan.
As tired as he is, Buck can’t quite settle all the way. He drifts on the edge of sleep, but never tips all the way over. Even with his face pressed against Eddie’s pillow, wrapped up in his hoodie and in the sheets he just slept in, it’s still not enough. It’s not enough until he hears the bedroom door open and the comforter shifts. Buck peeks his head out of his burrow to see Eddie standing there with a soft smile on his face as he starts to slide into the bed.
It’s a testament to how tired he is that he doesn’t notice it until his head is resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s good arm holding him close. Buck nuzzles his face into Eddie’s (though Buck’s pretty sure it’s his) t-shirt as Eddie’s other hand drifts lazily through his hair. His other hand.
Buck pushes up, blinking to clear his bleary vision. “Where’s your sling?”
Eddie smiles, shifting his arm, his bad arm, a little more, reaching out for Buck again. “Doc said I could start going without it for a little bit each day. Get my muscles moving again.”
Tentatively, Buck reaches out, fingers brushing softly against Eddie’s. His eyes dart up, looking for any sign of pain or discomfort. All he sees, all he feels, is a rush of love when Eddie links their fingers together and gives them a weak squeeze. Buck’s heart kicks hard against his ribs, tears burning in his eyes as he leans down and kisses Eddie.
It’s been two months. Two months of pain and tears and frustration, of sleepless nights and anxiety filled days and grinding through simple repetitive motions to keep his arm from atrophying. Two months since Buck was able to hold Eddie’s hand, feel both of his arms around him, settle against his chest. They had adapted, figured out how to make it work with a sling between them, but as Buck leans in now, pressed to Eddie’s chest, Buck feels like maybe they are finally starting to heal from all of it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Buck asks in wonder, staring at the hand still linked with his.
“Wanted to surprise you.” Eddie tells him simply. “So why did you steal my hoodie?”
Buck opens his mouth to answer, but no words come out. Because it’s been two months, he wants to say. Two months of leaving the house by himself for every shift and walking into the firehouse alone. Two months of gearing up next to an empty locker, of staring at Eddie’s unused turnouts in the cubby next to his. Two months of long shifts and hard calls, of reaching automatically for someone who isn’t there. Two months of floaters and temps and coverages from other shifts and houses who fit like a square peg in a round hole.
Two months without his partner. Buck’s felt Eddie’s absence like the pain of a phantom limb. Suddenly bereft of an extension of himself, so acutely aware of the space it used to occupy and the pain it’s left behind. He’s been stumbling around just trying to figure out how to keep going without Eddie by his side.
“I missed you,” Buck finally murmurs.
It wasn’t a simple laundry mix up, though that’s what he told everyone when he came in wearing a sweatshirt that was just a little too tight across his shoulders and a little short in the sleeves. Eddie and I have the same color sweatshirt, must’ve gotten mixed up in the wash. It was easier to say that than admit he purposely snagged it before Eddie could toss it in the hamper so it was stretched out a little and smelled like him. It was so much easier than trying to explain that wearing Eddie’s shirts were as close to getting a full hug from the man as he had come in two months. It was easier than saying he missed Eddie all the time and this was as close to settling back into his skin as he could come when he wasn’t around his boys.
“I missed you too,” Eddie tells him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Next time, how about I just wear your sweatshirt first? Smells like me, but fits you.”
An image flits through Buck’s mind. Eddie sitting up in bed, eyes still half-lidded and face pillow creased, to pull a sweatshirt off in the early morning light. Buck pulling the warm hoodie over his head, leaning down to steal a sleepy kiss or two, before picking up his work bag. Watching Eddie curl back up around his pillow as Eddie’s scent wraps around him like a hug before he walks out the door.
“Yeah,” Buck murmurs, answer strangled by the sudden swell of love and relief caught in his chest. “Does that mean you’re gonna stop stealing my t-shirts?”
Eddie’s laugh is muffled against the top of his head. “Never.” He strokes his hand softly up Buck’s back. “You need to get some rest. Want me to stay with you for a little while?”
“Please,” Buck whispers, already sinking deeper into the pillows, nestling into Eddie’s side.
He’s just drifting on the edge of sleep when Eddie shifts, his lips pressing to Buck’s temple, his whispered words following Buck down into sleep.
“Always.”