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Eddie doesn’t really remember why they’re walking, just that they didn’t have anything to do after they dropped Christopher off, and it was nice out, the air cooling the heat that still lingered even in November. Although, the heat doesn’t stop Buck from being affected by the slight chill and pressing closer to Eddie so that their shoulders and hands brush.
Part of him thinks that Buck is pressing closer just because he can, the same way Eddie does when he gets the chance. Hen says he and Buck are glued at the hip, Eddie would say that they’re actually glued at the hip, hand, shoulder, and thigh, but he wouldn’t deny it. Because she's right.
Eddie hooks his chin over Buck’s shoulder, sits down barely inches from Buck on the couch, holds Buck’s waist an unnecessary amount of time when they hug or when he slips by him in the kitchen, and he doesn’t need to do any of that. It's all just because he can, because he wants to, because that closeness feels as natural as breathing.
They haven’t said anything to each other in a while, not since they started walking, anyway. But the silence is comfortable, as it always has been, and Eddie sees no reason to break it.
Buck does eventually, after his fingers curl slightly around Eddie’s for a brief moment for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.
“Could we get take out? From that Asian place on the way home?” His voice is quiet and a little raspy from his lack of speaking since he got home from work that morning.
Eddie ignores the part of his brain that is nagging at him about the ‘home’ part of the sentence in favor of thinking about how Buck only ever asks for food from that specific place when he’s had a rough shift and has no intention of talking about it.
He nods and then asks Buck anyway, “What happened?”
Buck shrugs, and Eddie brushes their fingers together again. “Nothing,” he looks up at the sky and then back down to the kids running across the park, their parents trailing close behind. “Just people,” and isn’t it always? “It wasn’t horrible,” Buck adds, “just meh, y’know. It's pretty much always just meh without you there.”
Eddie nods because it’s the same for him when Buck isn’t there. He doesn't like to remember how empty he felt when Buck was away after the firetruck and the lawsuit or when he left the station last December and the time before his breakdown. He glances at Buck, who’s gazing softly at the kids still running across the grass, and his face is cast in a warm light that brightens his eyes. He doesn’t intend to repeat that separation, he doesn’t intend to let it happen either, and he won’t let Buck slip through his fingers.
“Well,” he mumbles, purposely bumping their shoulder, “I’m here now.”
Buck smiles and looks at the sidewalk, “Yeah, you are.”
It’s quiet again until Buck shivers slightly, and Eddie laughs out loud, totally by accident. Buck glares at him and bats him in the arm, “Shut up, I don’t like the cold.”
Eddie starts slipping off his jacket and laughs again at Buck’s offended expression, “You say that like it my fault.”
Buck takes Eddie’s jacket as it’s handed to him with a raise of his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything about it, probably knowing better than to fight it. “You never know, Eds,” Buck muses, tucking one of his hands into his pocket but keeping the other one out to brush against Eddie’s.
Eddie shakes his head and grins at Buck, who isn’t looking at him but at the setting sun, and it gives Eddie a chance to stare without interruption.
Buck looks good in Eddie’s jacket, which was already a little loose on Eddie, so it fits Buck almost perfectly, except for his shoulders, where it pulls a little too tight, not that Eddie minds or will ever mind.
A tiny Chihuahua runs across the sidewalk as its owner chases after it, and Buck’s eyes light up briefly.
Eddie has to nudge him before he decides to speak.
Buck tilts his head, “Chris wants a dog.”
Eddie almost stops waking, but Buck’s pinky is looped in his, and he doesn’t want to separate them. “Really?” Buck shrugs again and nods. “He never mentioned that to me?” He half mumbles, looking at Buck every now and then.
Buck nods, “Yeah, I know. He thought you would say no so he asked me first.” He tilts his head again, “He likes Irish Wolfhounds and Scottish Terriers.”
Eddie laughs again because he really didn’t expect that, “What did you say when he asked you?”
Buck scrunches his nose up, “I told him it really wasn’t up to me, but we could talk about it,” he glances at Eddie, “and that he should really talk to you.” He waits for Eddie to nod before continuing, “I don’t think it’s that bad of an idea. Maybe an older dog at least, less hyper and all that, rescues are tough but rewarding, y’know.” He looks at Eddie fulling and tips his head forward, “But it really is up to you, it’s your house, your schedule.”
Eddie shakes his head, “Buck you’ve lived with us for the last month, our calendars are the same,” he tangles their fingers together a little more, “you’re on the chore chart, Evan.”
Buck stops walking but doesn’t let go of Eddie's hand, so they both stop in the middle of the sidewalk, with Buck staring at Eddie with wide eyes and a soft pink color dusting his face and tips of his ears.
Eddie steps slightly closer to shield Buck from the gentle wind brushing their exposed skin. “Is that okay, me using your name? I know I used it in the hospital but you never said anything about it and I just-”
“Eds,” Buck mumbles, searching Eddie’s eyes, “It’s okay, really.” He swallows and then smiles softly, “I like it, coming from you.”
“Oh,” oh, “That’s good, that’s really good.”
It’s only then that he notices that Buck’s hand has come out of the jacket pocket to hold Eddie’s other hand with his own and that buck is about three inches closer than he was before, and definitely three inches closer than strictly necessary.
“You know I was serious,” he murmurs, “About what I said before. You really should be part of a decision like that. And you should be a part of all other decisions like that, y’know, the ones that revolve around our lives, our life together, with Chris. Even the mundane shit like what type of cereal we should get that week, and what brand of detergent is best paint stains.”
Buck mumbles, “Tide’s liquid detergent,” and he looks about three seconds away from sobbing.
Eddie lets go of Buck’s right hand to bring it up to Buck’s face so he can just- hold him and possibly never let go. He whispers, “I love you,” and then Buck really does cry.
It’s a half-hearted sob, and Buck is smiling through it, so Eddie just presses closer and catches Buck’s tears with his thumbs after he brings his left hand up to the other side of Buck’s face.
Buck’s hands curl around Eddie’s waist, and the feeling of that weight against his skin is on Eddie’s list of top ten things about Buck that drive him wild.
“Damnit Eddie,” Buck mutters, “‘Not good with words’ my ass.”
Eddie grins, “That was totally before therapy, and who knows, maybe it’s just you.”
Buck decides they aren’t close enough and presses his forehead against Eddie’s, “I’m honored,” he mumbles, and Eddie kisses him.
“I really do,” he whispers half against Buck’s lips, “Love you, I mean, for everything that you do and are.”
Buck lets his head fall to Eddie’s shoulder, “You’re gonna make me cry again.”
Eddie presses his lips to the top of Buck’s head, “All for good reasons I hope.”
Buck pushes Eddie back half a foot when he surges up to kiss him, “I love you too,” he murmurs in the half-inch space between them.
Eddie moves one hand to the back of Buck’s neck and tugs slightly so Buck will move back so Eddie can see him properly. “I didn’t mean to tell you like that.”
Buck raises his eyebrows again, “Really? Did you have a whole plan worked out in that pretty head of yours.”
Eddie shrugs, sweeping his fingers over Buck’s skin, “Yeah, I was gonna woo you and everything.”
Buck looks down at the ground and then back up at Eddie, smiling so softly and fondly that Eddie might just cry, “Eds, you’ve been wooing me for awhile now, with all that Diaz charm that you so clearly got from your Abuela.”
Eddie glares but doesn’t bother to add any heat to it because he just feels too damn giddy. “Sure,” he smiles, “but I’m still gonna take you out, somewhere fancy, with candles that are definitely fire hazards.”
Buck purses his lips and tries not to laugh, failing after a moment, “Oh, my favorite type of date, the one where I’m worried the tablecloth will catch on fire.”
Eddie watches Buck for a moment, and Buck watches his back, gaze questioning and pleased all at once.
“I really do love you, y’know,” he says, tilting his head, then, “A dog is a lot of responsibility.”
Buck smiles again, somehow softer than before, “I know, but Chris has like an entire folder full of dog facts about the Scottish Terrier, Eds.”