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Buck wakes up and he feels a little bit of sunshine come through the window— heating the blankets he’s laying under and warming him in the way he used to crave. He used to want to curl in the sun spot like a cat, and if he were alone in the bed he would still want to, but Buck has something else— someone else to keep him warm.
(Skin.)
Buck loves this.
He’s wearing one of his hoodies, one of the 2X ones he wears when he wants to feel the most comfortable, the most safe. His bottom half is less covered. He’s only wearing his boxer briefs, his legs bare but the front of his thighs pushed up and under Eddie’s.
Eddie.
Eddie has a tee shirt and some sweat shorts— the ones with the stretched out drawstring that he only wears to go to bed now. He burns up under the covers and Buck can feel it when he wraps his arms around Eddie’s torso and trails his hand flat up Eddie’s chest to rest where his heart is.
(Heat.)
Eddie burns like a furnace and Buck never had good circulation in the first place but since the lightning strike he’s frozen more than before.
Eddie runs too hot and Buck runs too cold. They touch and Buck almost hums, feeling a heating pad hold his hand and warm them right back up. Eddie doesn’t complain about Buck’s cold hands roaming up and down his chest, feeling every piece of skin and every hair.
Buck squeezes them closer together, pulling Eddie more into his broad chest. Eddie’s shoulders feel like they’re made to curl into the curve made from Buck holding him. Buck digs his nose into the crown of his head, feeling each long strand and not caring at all if the ends poke him or end up making him uncomfortable.
(Hair in your mouth.)
He smells Eddie’s shampoo, which is to say Buck smells his own shampoo on Eddie. When they shared a bathroom Eddie started stealing bits and bits of Buck’s curated shower and skin care routine,and ditched the products he would buy because they were cheap at the store, until it became their routine. The one they could do next to each other in the mirror at night and the one Buck can smell on Eddie when they’re close enough to step into each other’s skin.
(Feet touching feet.)
Eddie curls into him even more, pushing his heels into the tops of Buck’s feet. Buck’s socks put a barrier between them, but Buck feels it all the same; he feels hoe Eddie pushes back the same way Buck pushes in. They hold themselves together like to let go would be to willingly fall apart. They’ve spent too much time apart. They’ve spent so long carefully stepping around each other that Buck doesn’t want to waste the rest of his life by being coy.
(Oh you)
Eddie hums, just enough to let Buck know he’s on the beginnings of being awake. They could easily fall back asleep and stay in bed, or they could get up and be awake for the day. Buck doesn’t know which one is better. Spend the day with Eddie or hide in the bed with Eddie. Both are options and both will satisfy Buck’s soul.
(and I)
Buck squeezes, one hand on Eddie’s chest right about his heart and another wrapped around his waist. He doesn’t worry about waking Eddie up, or annoying him, because somewhere along the way Buck realized that Eddie doesn’t care about that stuff. Eddie doesn’t get truly annoyed by Buck, or his presence, or anything, except when Buck forgets to pull the laundry out of the dryer when it stops and their tee shirts accidentally wrinkle. Buck holds onto Eddie and he knows Eddie actually likes it when he does.
(safe from the world)
Eddie turns his head up toward the ceiling, leaving the right side of his face open for Buck to look at. Buck leans away from Eddie just enough to see the light on his face before he noses his way to kiss him on the cheek. He places butterfly light kisses around the cheek before his smile ruins it all and he’s just letting his lips drift from apple to jaw to temple until he can hear Eddie laughing soft like the morning.
(though the world will try.)
Eddie pushes softly on Buck, prodding him away. Buck falls back to the middle of the bed where he’s meandered to Eddie’s side during the night. Eddie rolls in Buck’s arms, dislodging part of Buck’s hold on him. Buck’s hands stay under Eddie’s tee shirt, but roam to his back.
Eddie grumbles just a little, pressing a quick, closed-mouth kiss on his mouth. For a brief moment Buck’s eyes close as he feels Eddie’s morning stubble.
“Is your leg still hurting?”
Eddie’s voice is rough like gravel and it makes Buck want to do more than get closer. Buck wants to ignore the question and roll back into Eddie’s space.
“Buck…”
He hums noncommittally as his answer before Eddie can really get onto him.
(Oh. I’m afraid)
He hadn’t wanted to take stock of the pain in his body— not yet. He wants to ignore the chronic pain he feels from his myriad of injuries until he’s forced to stare them in the face. He knows that some of the things were out of his control: the fire truck explosion and the lightning strike to name two, but some of the others were from his reckless youth. Some mornings Buck curses his younger self for being so careless as he feels his muscles ache like they didn’t used to.
“Do you need anything?”
Buck shakes his head.
(of the things in my brain)
The only thing Buck has needed in a long time is Eddie. When his body hurts, Eddie’s the one who’s thinking of it. When Buck’s stuck in his own head, Eddie’s the one who can read the spiral.
(but we can stay here)
Eddie’s hand lifts up and rakes his fingers through Buck’s curls, starting at the top of his hairline and taking it back to the crown of Buck’s head. Again like a cat, Buck wants to feel Eddie’s blunt nails scrape his head every morning. He wants to be held like this everyday, and he knows he will be.
Buck can’t see the future, but he’s been told by Eddie over and over again that he’s not going anywhere and Buck believes him; after years of wanting to believe him only after they got together and stayed together throughout all the easy and hard parts did Buck actually believe.
(and laugh away the fears.)
“I love you,” Buck says, because he feels it, and when he feels it he can’t stop himself from saying it.
“I love you,” Eddie replies.
Buck rests his forehead on Eddie’s. He takes a deep breath before kissing Eddie on the mouth, open-mouth and languid. There’s something satisfying in being able to love without fear.
(Numb.)
”Do you need to take it easy today?”
Eddie pulls at the short curls on top of Buck’s head, not to hurt him, but just to touch, just like Buck flits kisses across Eddie’s cheeks.
Buck probably should take it easy not only today, every day, but he’s not going to as much out loud to Eddie, who would take him up on the admission. They have today off and Buck had intended to take it easy anyway, at least with his daily workout. He was probably going to find some somatic stretching videos online that he can follow with some stretches he stole from helping Christopher with physical therapy over the years.
(Fine.)
“I’ll take it easy today,” Buck replies, just to get ahead of Eddie’s worries. That sentence alone is a little bit of a confession, but it doesn’t feel like pulling teeth like it does with Maddie. Buck’s giving Eddie a little bit of him, and he knows Eddie can hold it safely.
“You better,” Eddie leans forward to catch Buck’s forehead with a kiss. When he’s done he uses his thumb to rub the kiss in, like it could fly away if he didn’t. “You’ve been working yourself too much lately.”
Buck mhms, listening but no response. He did overdo himself, helping Christopher move his room around along with everything he does at the firehouse, carrying bodies out of burning buildings on his back.
“Anything on the agenda today?”
(You create a rarity of my genuine smile.)
“Except for the growing laundry pile, probably not.”
Christopher missed his cousins in LA, so he stayed the night with Pepa at her insistence. She missed her great nephew as much as he missed her while he was gone to Texas. All that to say, there was no one to worry about but themselves, and nothing to take their time away except for each other.
“I don’t want to do the laundry,” he whines. Buck laughs as Eddie buries his head into Buck’s chest. Buck holds him tighter as Eddie gets closer. Buck feels Eddie’s breath on his skin
“Then let’s ignore the laundry,” which is not something Buck would normally do. When he was younger he would ignore it until the last minute then beg his roommates for a chance to use the washer in their shared house so he didn’t have to go to the laundromat. When did Buck become an adult, with a need to do the laundry promptly and a want to clear the dishes after every meal?
(So breathe.)
“Sounds good to me.”
It’s muffled because Eddie’s face is still in Buck’s chest. Buck doesn’t let go. He never wants to let go. He wished he could stay in this bed with Eddie Diaz forever. Buck wished that he could pause time right here in their bed, in their house, with nowhere to be on their day off.
Buck takes a deep breath and tries to sink into the mattress further, not wanting it to swallow him up like on his bad days, but wanting to feel the most cozy, the most cradled, and the most protected.
(Breathe with me.)
Eddie matches his breath, also seemingly going deeper. His arms are wrapped around Buck’s waist, not squeezing but holding. Not creating any pressure, but just creating an embrace. The conversation trails off, not with any meaning to. It trails off because they don’t have to speak to understand each other.
(Can you drink all my thoughts?)
Buck had wasted so much time. There were years he drifted. Years he wasted. Years he spent chasing something he wouldn’t recognize if it were standing right in front of them. People who spelled out their expiration date in his life and he didn’t care to listen.
He tiptoed around Eddie, forcing himself away from figuring out who he was until he died. Buck died and could have never made it back; he could have never known what it was like to be loved like this. Loved like quiet mornings in bed and contentment with knowing his forever looked exactly like this.
(‘Cause I can’t stand them.)
Buck feels a kiss on his chest, through the hoodie and the tee shirt he’s wearing, then he feels Eddie’s hands slowly trace their way under his clothes and up his back, Eddie’s warm hands feeling like little heating pads skating over Buck’s skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
(Oh.)
He can’t describe how grateful he is for Eddie, and how grateful he is that they happened to fall together. He’s grateful for being able to wake up with Eddie, and share a bed with Eddie, and live his life with Eddie, and for how Eddie wants to do all this with him too.
(Oh.)
They haven’t been together very long, but this relationship feels different than anything Buck’s ever felt before in a relationship. There’s a surety (a certainty) that Buck’s wanted for as long as he’s been alive.
(Oh.)
Eddie readjusts the covers on top of him so they’re both covered up still. It keeps the warmth of his body under the covers, keeping both of them comfortable from the house’s AC.
(Intertwined.)
Buck lets himself lay on his back, bringing Eddie with him, settling Eddie on top of Buck’s chest. Their legs lace together and Eddie lets his weight fall on Buck in the way they’ve found out together that Buck likes.
(Free.)
Buck kisses the top of Eddie’s head, putting his nose back in Eddie’s hair.
“I love you,” he repeats, because he feels it, and when he feels it he can’t stop himself from saying it. His voice is a hair above a whisper, but he knows Eddie can hear him in the quiet of their bedroom.
“I love you too.”
(I’ve pinned each and every hope on you.)
“No laundry today, but I’ll make us breakfast later.”
Eddie hums and Buck can hear the smile on his face, “If you make your homemade biscuits then I’ll make the chocolate gravy.”
“Can you fry your sausage if I make your eggs?”
“I wouldn’t make you fry my sausage if you’re not going to eat it.”
Buck’s been trying to go vegetarian, with starts and stops to make sure he gets enough protein for his workouts. He’s still working out a few kinks and he’s been cooking to figure out where he can get everything he needs, but it’s been going okay, especially with someone like Eddie who’s been picking up in the kitchen for when he or Chris want something with meat in it.
(I hope you don’t bleed with me.)
Buck tries to gather the gall to get up, even though every other part of his body wants him to stay here in bed.
(I’m afraid of the things in my brain)
“We should get up soon if we want to eat breakfast while it’s still morning.”
Eddie shakes his head, as much as he can, “I’m not hungry.”
Right on cue, his stomach grumbles, and Buck can feel the vibration of it on his own stomach.
“Maybe I’m hungry, but I don’t want to get up.” Buck laughs.
(but we can stay here)
“How about we make breakfast then come right back here to bed?” Buck asks, kissing his hair again to punctuate the question.
Eddie looks up at Buck, his chin resting on Buck’s sternum. “I could be convinced.”
Buck cants his neck forward enough just to kiss Eddie again, this time on the lips, and just to see Eddie smile. And he does.
It’s the soft smile Eddie gives almost like he doesn’t realize he’s smiling. Like his body is the one reacting involuntarily, like when his cheeks redden at Buck’s compliments.
(and laugh away the fear.)
Eddie’s bare legs rub up against Buck’s. Hot like furnaces, keeping Buck warm and making him not want to get out of the bed any more than Eddie does. Buck’s hands hold onto the thin white undershirt Eddie uses as a sleepshirt. Why does Hanes cotton feel like home?
(Hmm.)
Buck moves to sit up. Eddie stops him, letting more of his weight fall on his body.
“Not now.”
(Hmm.)
Buck lets his head fall back into the pillow. Eddie on top of him feeling all familiar and still novel; Buck wants to drink it all in.
(Hmm.)
“Not now,” He agrees.