Work Text:
Buck hears when Eddie comes home from his pick-up basketball game — there’s the telltale muffled jingle of keys and the familiar swing of the front door — but he doesn’t perk up from the couch.
It’s not for a lack of wanting to. He still plans to tell Eddie all about Chris’s really cool third-grade science packet on sea creatures (a starfish’s stomach comes out of their mouths to eat, holy crap), the new lasagna recipe he used to make dinner (the one Bobby taught him that he messed up twice at home but got it right this time), and the super cute way Chris curled up in his lap after finishing his math homework (he’d adorably claimed that Buck was warmer than any blanket).
But Buck’s head is heavy right now, and unless he sees Chris get a papercut from where he’s drawing at the coffee table in front of him, he’s giving himself another minute before lifting it.
“Dad’s home!” Chris yells mirthfully, bringing a smile to Buck’s face. Honestly, everything that kid does brings a smile to Buck’s face, even through his weird bout of sleepiness today.
“Did you have fun with Buck?” Eddie’s voice comes from the hall before his footsteps get closer. “Give me a hug, Superman.”
“You’re all sweaty,” giggles Chris, but raises his arms anyway.
Buck pushes his head up from the armrest and tries his best to look like he hasn’t been wiped out by a typical Thursday of standard calls at work and a very easy babysitting gig for the best kid in the world. Because really, he shouldn’t be. He’s been more energetic after twenty-four-hour shifts. (Maybe it’s like, a full moon thing?)
Eddie’s scooped Chris up to give him a hug and is currently plopping an obnoxiously loud kiss on his cheek — the perfect amount of ridiculousness to make Chris laugh and laugh, head tilted back. The sight pours sunshine right into Buck’s heart, and for a moment, he just sits there and basks in the glow — until Eddie catches his eye with a serious look on his face. Buck grows worried for all of one second, and then —
“Something smells good,” Eddie accuses, and Buck has to remind himself that his best friend is a goofball. “Like, really good, like Bobby’s — ”
“Extra cheesy lasagna,” Buck says with a grin. “I think I got it right this time.”
“It smells right,” Eddie says, his tone awed as he glances towards the kitchen. “I wasn’t hungry before, but I’m starving now.”
“Me too!” Chris pipes up.
“Well, that’s perfect, because it’s pretty much done and ready to be eaten by my favorite Diazes.” Buck stands up, and wooziness hits him like a tidal wave — but he steadies himself by the time Eddie’s looking back at him. Buck shakes it off and powers on with a pointed look at the other man. “You better take a shower before you decide to give me a sweaty hug and kiss.”
Chris, halfway to the kitchen at the words pretty much done, snort-laughs.
“Don’t tempt me,” Eddie teases before bounding off with a boyish grin.
~
Dinner at the Diaz household is a total success — and between Chris enchanting Eddie with his bountiful new starfish facts he and Buck learned together thanks to Buck’s high-tier Googling skills on his phone and Eddie’s occasional comments about phones listening to all of them and that they should be careful, no one really points out that Buck has been sliding his serving of lasagna around on his plate like he’s training it for the ice skating Olympics.
It’s good—really, Buck has outdone himself. He’ll have to thank Bobby for the recipe and also highlight this memory in his mind the next time he needs an ego boost because Chris and Eddie’s praises aside, it’s objectively yummy.
It’s also… not really making its way off Buck’s plate the same way it has been cleared off of Chris and Eddie’s.
“Starfish are technically supposed to be called sea stars, and their eyes are on their arms,” Chris says, his mouth full as he goes for seconds.
“We haven’t told him about the sun stars yet, buddy,” Buck chimes in.
Chris’s blue eyes sparkle as he looks at Eddie. “Oh, right! Sun stars are also ech—um, ech-ino-derms, but they have, like, forty arms. So that’s forty eyes, Dad. Forty!”
Eddie laughs. “Alright, so I’m pretty sure this new fascination with starfish means that we should — ”
“Sea stars,” Buck and Chris correct in unison.
“Right, sea stars.”
Eddie’s smiling like he’s just witnessed something adorable, and Buck thinks he could look at that smile forever if his head didn’t suddenly feel like a pregnant bowling ball, about ten times heavier than when he was lying on the couch.
Chris suddenly nods, very excited about something Eddie’s said, and dazedly, Buck clocks that he just missed a pivotal part of their conversation. Expectant eyes — both brown and blue — turn to him.
“S-sorry, what was that?” Buck asks helplessly.
“The aquarium, this weekend. If you’re free?” Eddie asks, giving Buck a hopeful look Buck never wants to say no to. “Maybe see some of those sea stars and sun stars in person. Sound good?”
It sounds amazing. And Buck’s free, he’s always free for Eddie and Chris — unless Eddie asks him to a pick-up basketball game — and he’s so grateful to be included, to be wanted here. He nods, and his head swims. His lasagna looks less appetizing by the second.
Thankfully, he doesn’t fall out of his chair, and he tunes back into the conversation after a beat of catching his breath and taking a sip of water.
~
Tucking Chris in for bedtime is a privilege, and Buck doesn’t want to skip it even though he feels like he might topple over soon.
“Night, Dad. Night, Buck,” whispers a very sleepy Chris from his bed, his face soft and somehow even younger-looking without his glasses and with curls spilling over his forehead. His words slur together as he drifts off. “Love you a… a lot.”
Buck’s heart does a little thing where it melts completely. He’d ignore all protests from his limbs if it meant more nights like these.
~
“You should stay the night.”
“Hm?” Buck blinks his eyes open in alarm from where he stands, leaning against Eddie’s refrigerator. His heart sinks when he sees that the dishwasher’s been turned on, and there’s no dirty plate in sight. “Wha — no, Eddie, I swear I was gonna help with the dishes — ”
“As if,” Eddie scoffs, wiping his hands on a towel. “You’re dead on your feet. Forget washing dishes, Buck, I don’t think you should be driving.”
“But — ”
“Stay the night, sleepy. We’ll go into work together.”
Eddie says it like it’s the simplest and most obvious solution. Curling up on the floor alone right this instant is so tempting. Buck meets Eddie’s eyes — and wow, yeah, just like that, Buck feels his resolve withering away.
“Alright,” Buck exhales, letting his temple rest on the refrigerator again. The world spins even though his eyes are shut. Maybe he really does need the sleep. “Thanks.”
“Hey.” Buck blinks himself back into the kitchen, ready to listen intently to Eddie even though it feels like he’s on the verge of falling over. Eddie has a strange look on his face, as if debating whether to say something, but their eyes meet, and the look is traded in for something a little surprised. “You okay?”
Buck thinks he could sleep for a hundred years. That’s a little weird, a small voice says somewhere from the back of his mind. You should tell Eddie that you feel weird.
“Did you know that echinoderms don’t have a centralized brain or nervous system?” he blurts instead. Eddie tilts his head, brow furrowing. Buck raises his hands in the air as if to gesture to an invisible sea star between them. “They don’t technically sleep like we do, Eds. It’s kind of neat.”
Eddie’s mouth flattens into a line. “And that’s my cue to get you to bed.”
Buck laughs as he’s ushered into the hallway, but it gets caught in his throat when Eddie stops him from moving toward the living room.
“I’m not making you sleep on the couch, Buck,” Eddie says. “Not when you’re babbling.”
Buck’s heart is in overdrive, but he manages not to trip over his words.
“So when Chris tells you about sea stars, it’s adorable, but when I do, it’s cause for overnight observation?”
“Pretty much,” Eddie quips.
~
Buck is dreaming.
The myriad of sea stars on the ceiling pooping snow on him is a dead giveaway — he and Chris literally just learned most echinoderm excretion is done through diffusing gas through permeable parts of their body. But it doesn’t stop his core from feeling like ice. The only good thing about this dream is that Eddie’s touching him and murmuring to him softly, like he’s something precious, and Buck hasn’t really ever been something precious to anyone other than Maddie, and even she has other things in her life now —
“Buck,” comes Eddie’s voice, gravelly from sleep. Buck can feel his breath on his neck, but the voice sounds far away. “I’m sorry, but I need you to wake up.”
It’s perfectly platonic for two guys to share a bed — and it’s probably perfectly platonic that they’re inches apart — but Buck thinks it might not be so perfectly platonic that he desperately wants Eddie to kiss his neck.
Then Buck feels Eddie’s hand — the one on his shoulder, the one that’s been touching him so gently, pull away, taking that source of warmth away and Buck actually whimpers — and just like that, he’s awake, tears pricking his eyes.
There aren’t any sea stars or snowflakes, but Eddie’s propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at him, illuminated softly by the glow of the hallway nightlight.
“Eddie,” mumbles Buck through a burning throat. He wants to say, I want you to keep touching me, that was nice, thanks, but his friendship preservation instincts are somehow thankfully still on his side. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
Buck hears Eddie’s fond, exasperated sigh more than sees it, and he realizes his eyes are falling shut. He tries to blink them open.
“You okay?” he mumbles.
“I should be asking you that,” Eddie says with a huff. “Are you cold? I can grab another blanket for you.”
Through half-lidded eyes, Buck looks down at the blanket he’s already under and thinks, yeah, another blanket would be nice. And even better than another blanket would be Eddie, sprawled on top of him instead. Goosebumps wrack up Buck’s arms. He wants Eddie’s attention so badly sometimes, it hurts.
And then Eddie’s inhaling sharply.
“Whoa. Hey. Buck.” Eddie’s voice rises in alarm, but Buck can’t figure out why—did someone have a nightmare? Is Chris okay?
There’s movement, and then Eddie’s thumbs caress Buck’s cheeks, swiping at them to wipe away some wetness. Buck doesn’t understand — but he likes the touch. He likes it when Eddie touches him, no matter the reason. But if Eddie’s freaking out about something, Buck doesn’t want to keep him freaked out.
“You… okay?” Buck asks, breathless from the effort.
A slightly hysterical sound bursts from Eddie. “That’s the second time you’ve asked me. I’m perfectly fine — you’re the one who’s shivering and miserable.” Eddie goes quiet all of a sudden, his fingers on the sides of Buck’s face tensing in realization. One of the bedside lamps must turn on, because an orange tone appears on the other side of Buck’s lids. “Hey — hey, look at me for a second. Eyes open for me, Buck, come on.”
Buck moans a little, because everything hurts, but he lifts his heavy eyelids, and with Eddie’s blissfully cool hand cradling his jaw, he’s able to slowly roll his head back to look at Eddie. Dizzy and breathless, the strain is worth it when he meets a pair of meltingly gorgeous brown eyes. Eddie narrows his gaze, and Buck tenses, wondering what he’s done wrong — but then hands are pressing onto his forehead, then on his cheeks, and then there’s a hand cupping the back of his neck, and Buck would be in heaven if Eddie wasn’t swearing as he was doing it.
“You’re hot.”
It sounds like it could be a compliment if Eddie didn’t sound so horrified about it. Buck’s not the type to take an insult lying down — even if he’s literally lying down and not in any mood to get up.
“No, you’re hot,” he mumbles in retaliation.
“No, you’re actually burning up. How long have you had a fever?” Eddie demands, but his voice isn’t as hard as it is frantic. There’s movement on the bed, some possible fretting in Spanish, but Buck’s too far gone to tell.
Buck doesn’t think he needs to keep his eyes open anymore, though. He shivers and sinks into a muddled, feverish fog.
~
It’s hard to keep track of what happens after that.
There’s a thermometer pressed to his skin at some point, and Eddie’s voice telling him that they’re officially staying home tomorrow — and Buck has questions, like who’s they and where’s home — but he can’t get words out.
There are more blankets on top of him, but Buck doesn’t remember if that came before or after Eddie maneuvered him up to take a fever reducer.
At some point through the night, there’s a painful pulsing in his head and through all his bones, and he switches from feeling too cold to too hot, and wakes up with tears rolling down his cheeks and a too-fast heartbeat — and then there’s Eddie helping him out of his shirt and somehow the AC is turned up, even though that costs extra, and there’s fingertips running over his scalp and mumbled conversations in the brief moments of clarity —
“Sorry, I didn’t mean… mean to… didn’t know —”
“Shh. I like that I can take care of you.”
Eddie’s voice is soft and blameless as if it isn’t Buck’s fault for being a nuisance — and all it does is make Buck want to burst with gratitude. The bedside lamp is off, the pain has dulled to a gentle throb, and everything is so much better than it was before.
Buck buries his face into Eddie’s neck even deeper, clinging onto him like he’s got tentacles.
“Wanna take care of you, too.”
There’s a pause in the fingers tangled in his hair before a kiss lands right over Buck’s brow, on his birthmark. Buck’s heart stutters — but by the time he’s processed it and is aching for another one, preferably a specific spot lower on his face, sleep claims him whole.
But right before it does, he thinks — he could be wrong, it could just be the fever — he hears Eddie murmur, “You already do.”