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It starts innocently enough.
Eddie hands Buck his coffee one morning at the station. "Extra caramel, half sweet, oat milk," he says casually, like he didn’t memorize Buck’s overly complicated order from a Post-It note last week.
Buck blinks down at it. "How’d you—?"
“You talk in your sleep,” Eddie lies smoothly. “Said it during that nap on the couch last shift.”
Chim raises an eyebrow from across the room. “You listening to Buck sleep now?”
Eddie shrugs. “Only when he’s being this specific.”
Buck beams, taking a sip and making a happy little hum that absolutely does something to Eddie’s brain.
Hen walks by and doesn’t even try to hide her smirk. “Oh my God,” she mutters to Bobby in the kitchen. “He’s princessing him.”
“What?” Bobby blinks.
“You know—Princess Treatment. Spoiling him. Catering to his every whim. That coffee had whipped cream and edible glitter.”
“It had what?”
Then there’s the time Buck casually mentions his back hurting after a long call.
Eddie doesn’t just offer to help. He pulls out a lavender-scented heating pad from his locker, gently tucks it behind Buck, and presses a firm hand to it like he’s grounding him.
“Just relax, baby. I got you.”
“BABY?!” Chim nearly drops the hose he’s coiling.
Buck leans into the warmth like a cat in sunlight. “You’re a god.”
“I just want you comfortable,” Eddie says sincerely.
Bobby walks in five minutes later. “Why is Buck horizontal on the bench with a heating pad and a sparkling water?”
“Eddie’s princessing him again,” Hen replies without even looking up from her clipboard.
It gets worse—depending on who you ask.
Buck never carries his own gear. Eddie insists on it, muttering something about those being “his hands” and “too precious to scuff.”
He makes Buck plates at team BBQs, cuts his steak into bites, and peels his apples.
Buck’s helmet strap breaks mid-shift, and Eddie pulls a custom-padded replacement from his duffle.
“Of course you have a Buck-specific helmet strap,” Hen says flatly.
“He gets blisters,” Eddie replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I ordered extras.”
Buck grins, absolutely unbothered by the scrutiny. Thriving, even. Hair fluffy, cheeks pink, smile soft.
One night at Molly’s, Buck is half in Eddie’s lap, drink in hand, while Eddie idly plays with his hair.
Chim finally snaps.
“Okay. No. Absolutely not. You are not a Disney princess, Buck!”
Buck blinks. “Eddie says I’m Rapunzel.”
“BECAUSE OF YOUR HAIR?”
“It’s flowy,” Eddie says, deadpan.
Hen leans in. “When’s the wedding, Charming?”
Eddie presses a kiss to Buck’s temple. “Working on it.”
Buck turns pink. Hen groans.
Bobby takes a long drink. “Can’t believe Buck’s the girl in this relationship.”
“I’m the princess,” Buck corrects proudly. “There’s a difference.”
“And I’d slay a dragon for him,” Eddie adds, winking.
“Oh my God,” Hen mutters. “I’m gonna throw up.”
Later that night, Eddie brushes Buck’s hair while he lays across his lap watching nature documentaries.
“You know they’re never gonna let this go, right?” Buck murmurs.
Eddie kisses his forehead. “Let them talk. You deserve to be treated like royalty.”
Buck hums, eyes fluttering shut. “Guess that makes you my knight.”
Eddie smiles. “Damn right.”