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I. The Midnight Snack
Eddie woke to an empty bed.
At first, that fact didn't really register. He’d been sleeping alone for so long that when he first cracked open his eyes, still groggy from sleep that he didn’t notice anything was wrong. Until he threw his arm over the pillow next to him and realized the spot that Buck now owned and occupied in his bed…was empty. It was late, he could tell from the heavy quiet of the house, the faint hum of the ceiling fan, the way the streetlights outside bled just barely through the curtains. Everything about the night was still, like the world had hit pause. But, the absence next to him was still unmistakable.
Buck wasn’t beside him and the spot where he should have been was faintly cool, indicating he hadn’t been in bed for a while. It wasn't like Buck to get up in the middle of the night, and it especially wasn't usual for him to be gone so long that his spot was no longer warm and inviting.
Eddie blinked against the dark, frowning to himself. Maybe Buck had gotten up to use the bathroom? But the ensuite door was wide open, and no light spilled through. Maybe water? But he hadn’t heard the ice maker. Then again, he had been asleep and although years of firefighting and being a single dad had turned him into a light sleeper, he knew that since Chris had gotten older, he was sleeping deeper when he was at home, more likely to actually get a full night's rest. And now, with Buck's arms wrapped around him most nights, Eddie's sleep schedule had never been better.
The floor was cold beneath his bare feet as he padded out into the hallway, every creak of the wood louder than it had any right to be. The kind of noise that felt like it echoed when the house was this quiet and he had to be slow and deliberate so as to not wake up his son just a few feet away.. He didn’t bother with the lights. He knew the layout of the house by heart, knew where the edges of furniture lived and where to duck so the hallway vent didn’t blow directly into his face.
It was when he hit the archway between the kitchen and the living room that he noticed it; a soft pool of light, faint and gold, from the little bulb above the stove. Just enough to see by, not enough to wake the whole house or make it apparent that anyone was even there.
And then there was the sound.
Crunch.
A very loud crunch that echoed through the small kitchen.
Eddie frowned.
There was something deeply strange about a noise that crisp coming from the kitchen after 2am. It wasn’t the squish of leftovers being microwaved or the low glug of water being poured. It was loud and deliberate. The kind of sound a person makes when they’re trying to be sneaky but are failing miserably because what they’re doing is just… loud.
He stepped into the kitchen, half-expecting Buck to be nursing a bowl of cereal or digging through the freezer for ice cream. But what he found instead–
“Buck,” he said flatly. “Are you eating a bell pepper?”
Buck turned to look at him, completely unfazed, mid-chew and standing in the light of the open fridge.. “Yeah?”
“Like, raw ?”
Buck swallowed and gestured vaguely with the pepper, its top still intact. “It’s just a bell pepper. They’re sweet. It’s kinda refreshing actually.”
Eddie just stared at him.
Buck stood barefoot in front of the open fridge, wearing only a pair of sleep-rumpled boxers and looking like someone caught doing absolutely nothing wrong. Because, technically, he wasn’t. He just looked like he was breaking some kind of natural law, biting into a bright red pepper like it was a Honeycrisp apple.
“You know,” Eddie said slowly, moving toward the sink, “I didn’t realize I moved in with a raccoon.”
Buck blinked. “Raccoons eat garbage. This is literally the opposite of that.”
“You’re eating a vegetable. Uncooked. With the seeds.”
Buck shrugged, taking another loud bite. “It’s efficient.”
Eddie grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water, trying to process the scene before him. “You’re telling me this is, like, a thing you do?”
“Sure,” Buck said, mid-chew. “Been doing it since I was in that stupid frat house when I moved. Cheap and easy, ya know?”
“And you never thought to, I don’t know… mention it before we moved in together?”
“You never asked if I ate bell peppers raw at two in the morning.”
Eddie squinted at him. “That’s not usually a question you ask someone you’re dating.”
“Then it’s your fault for not being thorough during the interview process.”
Eddie snorted despite himself and took a long sip of water. Buck just grinned at him, unbothered, and took another enthusiastic bite. Eddie watched him for a moment; shirtless, hair sticking up, one hip leaned against the counter like he just naturally fit in, like he’d always belonged in this house.
And he did.
Which was maybe the strangest part of all.
They’d been together officially for over a year now, but moving in together a month ago had brought with it a thousand little revelations. Some expected and some not. Buck left his shoes everywhere. He had a surprisingly detailed spice organization system. He liked to sing under his breath while folding laundry, always a little off-key but still endearing. But somehow this —this bell pepper thing–felt like a whole new level.
“How many of those do you go through a week?” Eddie asked, watching him polish off the last bite and toss the stem and seeds into the trash like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Depends. Maybe five or six if they’re on sale?”
“You budget for your late-night pepper consumption?”
“I mean, yeah?” Buck looked faintly amused. “They’re good snacks. Don’t judge me just because your go-to midnight food is like, leftovers eaten cold that taste a little like despair.”
“I’m not judging,” Eddie lied. “I’m just–I’m processing.”
“Bet you didn’t know you were shacking up with someone so health-conscious.”
“Oh yeah, clearly,” Eddie said dryly, “you and your midnight produce cleanse are putting the rest of us to shame.”
Buck laughed, the sound soft and warm in the quiet kitchen. He came to stand beside Eddie, stealing a sip of his water like it was his right, then leaning against him lazily.
“You still love me, even if I have weird pepper habits,” he said.
Eddie looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t say I didn’t.”
“Just trying to gauge your tolerance for my quirks.”
“You make it sound like there’s a list .”
“Oh, there’s absolutely a list,” Buck said, grinning. “But I’m releasing it in installments. Gotta keep the mystery alive.”
“Terrifying,” Eddie muttered. “Truly.”
They stood there for a moment in companionable silence, the kind that only came when two people knew each other well enough not to need to fill the air with noise. Buck leaned his head on Eddie’s shoulder like he was falling asleep standing up, even though he was still faintly buzzing with whatever energy had brought him to the fridge in the first place.
“You couldn’t sleep?” Eddie asked after a minute, quieter now, more intimate.
Buck shrugged against him. “Woke up hungry. Didn’t want to wake you.”
“You didn’t. My own thirst did that.”
“Well, then it all worked out.”
Eddie tilted his head just slightly to rest against Buck’s. “You know, most people keep snacks by the bed.”
“Bell peppers don’t belong on a nightstand.”
“Right. How foolish of me.”
Buck nudged him with his elbow. “You know you love it.”
“What, the fact that you’re a bell pepper-goblin in the dead of night?”
Buck pulled back enough to look at him properly, still grinning. “Yes.”
Eddie just shook his head, utterly endeared and exasperated in equal amounts. “I don’t even know what to do with you sometimes.”
“Just keep loving me,” Buck said simply, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
And maybe it was. Even with the quirks. Maybe especially with the quirks.
Eddie leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, the faint taste of bell pepper still clinging to his lips. “Alright, come on. Back to bed, you menace.”
“Fine, fine. But if I get hungry again—”
“I’m locking the fridge.”
“You’d starve me in my hour of need?”
“I would if it stops you from traumatizing me with another midnight produce moment.”
Buck laughed and let himself be led back down the hall, fingers brushing Eddie’s as they walked side by side. Their home was quiet again, full of soft shadows and warm air and the quiet hum of a life shared.
And maybe, Eddie thought as they slipped under the covers once more, he hadn’t known every single thing about Buck before they moved in together.
But he didn’t mind learning.
Even if it came one weird-ass vegetable at a time.
II. Getting Cold Feet
The thing about living with someone, really living with them, day in and day out, was that it turned you into a silent observer of all their habits. Not just the big ones. Not just the stuff you expected. No, it’s the little things that sneak up on you; the things you can’t really expect
And Eddie had started noticing a lot of little things about his boyfriend.
Like how Buck left the dish sponge standing upright in the frog holder. Or how he refolded the bath towels after Eddie folded them, because apparently there was a “system.” Or the fact that, somehow, the guy seemed to misplace his phone more when it was in his own home than when they were out at the station or just out and about.
But the sock thing? That one took a little longer.
It started as a passing observation. A background detail. Something Eddie noticed once or twice but hadn’t thought much of. He’d get up to pee in the middle of the night or shift under the covers and catch a flash of skin—one bare foot, one socked—and assume Buck had kicked the other off in his sleep.
It happened to everyone, right?
But then it kept happening.
Over and over again.
Eddie started keeping mental score. And the thing was, Buck always had a sock on his right foot.
Not just sometimes.
Always.
It was never both. Never none. Always one. Always the right. Which made it appear a little more…deliberate than he originally thought.
Which led to a very quiet, very intense internal question of, should he ask?
It was the kind of stupid, harmless domestic mystery that felt too petty to bring up. But once Eddie noticed it, it lived rent-free in his brain, lounging on the couch with its weird little feet up.
The breaking point came one Wednesday night, a little after midnight.
They’d been watching some true crime documentary on the couch, Buck half-asleep and curled into Eddie’s side, and Eddie had suggested they just go to bed before either of them fell asleep upright. Buck agreed, yawning, and disappeared into the bathroom while Eddie locked up the house.
By the time he came into the bedroom, Buck was already in bed, on his side, hair a little damp from washing his face, one leg tangled in the sheet.
And there it was again.
One bare foot. One sock.
Right foot, white cotton sock pulled halfway up his calf.
Eddie stood at the foot of the bed, staring like he was looking at a crime scene.
Buck blinked at him sleepily. “You okay?”
Eddie pointed. “Okay, I need to ask. What’s with the one sock?”
Buck yawned, clearly unfazed. “Oh. My right foot gets cold.”
“…Just the right one?”
“Yeah.”
“How is that even—how can one foot run colder than the other?”
Buck shrugged, rolling onto his back with a groan. “I don’t know. It just does. I’ve tried wearing two socks, but then the left one gets sweaty and I wake up all gross. One sock solves the problem.”
“That’s… bizarre.”
Buck smiled faintly, eyes already starting to fall shut. “You asked.”
“I didn’t realize you were intentionally doing it. I thought it was an accident. Like, a sleep thing.”
“Nope. Fully intentional. Been doing it for years.”
Eddie sat on the edge of the bed, hand running through his hair. “You mean to tell me that this has been an actual choice all along?”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s so weird.”
“You still love me though,” Buck mumbled, voice thick with sleep, echoing the same words from that night Eddie had caught him snacking on a bell pepper like it was an apple.
Eddie glanced back at him, at the soft line of his face in the low lamplight, the sock curled slightly where Buck’s leg was bent. “Yeah, unfortunately.”
Buck smiled, then reached out blindly and tugged at Eddie’s wrist until he followed, sinking into the bed beside him.
And maybe that should’ve been the end of it. A passing moment, a weird quirk cataloged and accepted.
But Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about it.
It wasn’t just that Buck wore one sock. It was which foot. Always the right. Always carefully pulled on before bed. And the more Eddie turned it over in his mind, the less funny it became.
Because Buck’s right leg. Well, that was the one that had been crushed by the ladder truck in Eddie’s probie year.
The one with the worst of the scarring.
The one they’d all been terrified he might lose.
The one Buck had to rehab for months just to walk on again.
The one that Buck had hobbled on for Eddie’s academy graduation so that he could support his best friend.
The one that led to an embolism, and a tsunami, and some of Eddie’s biggest life regrets.
Eddie found himself watching for other signs over the next few days. The way Buck sometimes stretched his leg before getting up after a long shift. How he rubbed at his thigh absentmindedly when he was tired. It was nothing truly dramatic, just little motions, subtle as breathing.
Maybe it wasn’t about the temperature. Maybe it was muscle memory. Protection. Comfort. And that thought made Eddie ache a little.
It wasn’t that he thought Buck was hiding anything from him. They didn’t keep secrets like that anymore, not really. But sometimes you don’t even know you were carrying something until someone points it out. Until someone loved you close enough to really notice.
So when they curled into bed a few nights later, Eddie pressed a kiss to Buck’s shoulder and said quietly, “Does your leg still bother you sometimes?”
Buck, already halfway under the covers, stilled. “What?”
“Your right leg. From the ladder truck. Does it still ache or... feel different?”
Buck was quiet for a beat. Then he shifted onto his back, sighing softly. “Sometimes. Not often. It’s mostly just… I don’t know. There’s a tension there? Like it gets tight if I sit too long. Or if the weather’s shitty.”
“And the sock?”
Buck huffed a soft laugh. “Started as a comfort thing. After the rehab. My foot was cold all the time . It was like nerve stuff, I guess. And it helped. I got used to it. Now it just… feels weird not to.”
Eddie looked down at the faint lines of scar tissue along Buck’s thigh, just visible under the covers. He reached out and brushed his fingers gently along Buck’s shin, tracing the sock’s edge, grounding himself in the simple intimacy of it.
“That’s not weird,” he said finally.
Buck smiled. “You said it was weird two nights ago.”
“I take it back.”
“You only take it back because you made it all emotional.”
“Yeah, well, you made it a habit . That’s on you.”
Buck laughed and reached for him, tugging him under the covers. “You’re such a sap.”
“Takes one to love one,” Eddie muttered, resting his head on Buck’s chest.
Buck didn’t say anything after that, just slid his arm around Eddie and kissed the top of his head. His body was warm, heartbeat steady beneath Eddie’s cheek.
And the one sock thing? Yeah, it was weird. But it was Buck’s weirdness. Part of the little constellation of habits that made up the man Eddie loved.
He hadn’t known, when they moved in together, just how much he’d learn in the quiet, ordinary spaces between days.
But he was starting to realize that the weird little things—the dish towels, the midnight bell peppers, the socked foot—they weren’t flaws. They were footprints. Clues. Proof that Buck had built a life around comfort, survival, and healing.
And that life included Eddie now.
Weird habits and all.
III. Tucking In the Pickles
Eddie watched Buck move around the kitchen, his every motion so purposeful. It was almost hypnotic in a way. They’d been living together for months now, long enough that the novelty of waking up to Buck’s morning hair and the scent of his cologne mixed with morning coffee wasn’t quite as dizzying as it used to be. But the small moments, the little surprises tucked into their routines, still caught him off guard sometimes.
Like tonight, after a 24 on, when Buck had insisted they make burgers at home instead of ordering takeout. Not that Eddie minded, the thought of the greasy cardboard containers and stale fries that came with takeout hadn’t exactly been appealing since his boyfriend had moved in and he and Chris had been eating the best they ever had on a daily basis. But Buck had approached this meal like it was some kind of sacred ritual, which was both endearing and, well, strange. Which, in Eddie's defense, he'd never had a burger cooked by Buck so he wasn't exactly aware of his boyfriends… peculiar choices when it came to the preparation of the meal
Buck had already started preparing the patties, his hands coated with raw beef as he seasoned each one with salt and pepper, carefully shaping the beef into patties. Eddie leaned against the counter, watching Buck’s easy confidence and the way he’d mastered the rhythms of the kitchen over the years. Cooking was one of the things Buck did that still felt a little like magic to Eddie, watching him transform raw ingredients into something equal parts beautiful and delicious.
But what caught Eddie’s attention most wasn’t how Buck cooked the burgers but more so what Buck did after .
As Buck flipped the patties in the cast iron, Eddie noticed a faint glint of mischief in his eyes. When the patties were done, Buck turned to the counter, laying out all the usual burger fixings like fresh lettuce, thick slices of tomato, crisp pickles, slices of American, and an array of condiments lined up in perfect little rows. Eddie’s stomach rumbled softly at the sight, more than ready to dig in. But, Buck wasn't quite done yet.
He pulled out the mustard and ketchup bottles first. Then, instead of just slathering the condiments onto the buns, he began squeezing tiny dots and lines onto the pickles. Eddie blinked, confused for a second, then laughed softly.
“Buck, are you drawing faces on the pickles?”
Buck looked up, cheeks reddening just a bit as he grinned. “Yeah. Makes the burger happier.”
Eddie’s laughter caught in his throat. “Makes the burgers... happier?”
Buck’s grin broadened. “You ever watch SpongeBob ? There’s that episode where he like tucks the pickles in a cheese blanket and stuff? I've always loved that episode.”
Eddie nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. Of course he'd seen every episode of the show at least twice, his kid was only 15 after all.
“Well, this is my version of that. I figure if I’m gonna eat a burger, it might as well be a little fun, right?”
Buck carefully arranged two pickle slices side by side on the next bun, adding small dots of mustard for eyes, little ketchup smiles, and a thin strip of American cheese folded to look like a hat resting a top the pickles heads. He placed the burger gently on top of it all and patted the top bun down with a smile on his face.
Eddie was fascinated. He’d never seen Buck like this before, so playful and tender with something as simple as a burger. It was like watching a kid making art in the kitchen, a secret ritual Buck saved only for home, only for himself, that he was now willing to share with Eddie.
“You only do this when we’re here, don’t you?” Eddie asked, voice soft, a smile tugging at his lips.
Buck shrugged, a little bashful now. “Yeah. At work, it’s all about efficiency. Quick meals, grab and go. But at home I uh– I can take my time. Make food that’s not just fuel, but... fun.”
Eddie’s chest warmed with affection. This was the kind of thing that made living with Buck so unexpectedly wonderful. It wasn’t the grand gestures or the deep conversations (though those were there too), but these small, quiet moments where Buck revealed pieces of himself he’d never show anyone else.
He sat down at the kitchen table, watching as Buck continued to layer the other burgers. Lettuce blankets, thick and juicy slices of tomato, the patties sizzling with a perfect crust. The “faces” peeked out from beneath the cheese, a little family of pickles smiling up at them.
Eddie reached for a napkin, wiping his hands on his jeans as he chuckled. “You’re ridiculous.”
Buck winked. “Ridiculously talented.”
Eddie shook his head, amusement softening into something deeper. “It’s kinda sweet.”
Buck leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “I know. I save it for you.”
The honesty in his voice was quiet but fierce, like a promise wrapped up in a simple act of whimsy.
“I’m lucky.”
Buck smiled, stepping closer, the heat from the stove top lingering on his skin. “You’re stuck with me.”
Eddie laughed, standing up to pull Buck into a quick hug. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Their laughter faded into a comfortable silence as they sat down together, digging into the burgers, now both delicious and delightfully decorated. Eddie felt the slow steady beat of life settling around them, the joy of discovering new parts of someone you thought you already knew.
Because with Buck, there was always something new. Whether it was a late-night bell pepper, a single sock, or now, pickle faces that made a simple burger feel like a celebration.
IV. Suspicious Cheese...
Eddie came home from the b-shift he’d been called in for tired, sweaty, and ready to collapse on the couch and do absolutely nothing for the next 48 hours.
The house was suspiciously quiet as he tied his shoes off and locked the door behind him. He stepped slowly into the living room and towards the faint hum of what sounded like a muffled voice
He found Buck sitting cross-legged on the couch, eyes glued to his phone, scrolling through TikTok videos with an intensity Eddie hadn’t seen before. The warm sunlight streaming through the windows lit up Buck’s face, and Eddie noticed the slight grin as he watched some way too cheery bleach blonde woman explain the nuances of artisan cheese. The video was loud enough to fill the small living room.
“Hey guys, today we’re diving into the difference between regular cheddar and yellow cheddar. Spoiler alert! It’s mostly about annatto, a natural dye from the seeds of the achiote tree that changes the color but not the taste! Isn't that so cool?”
Buck’s fingers tapped rapidly as he responded to comments with, what Eddie could only assume was an intense amount of detail. He leaned against the doorframe, amused and curious, the tiredness bleeding right out of hik. “Since when are you a cheese fan?”
Buck barely looked up. “I’m not just a fan, Eds! I’m an aficionado in training.” His eyes sparkled with a kind of passionate curiosity Eddie rarely saw outside the firehouse or when talking about Chris.
Eddie smiled and sank down beside him on the couch, careful not to jostle the phone. “Alright, cheese expert. What’s the deal with this annatto stuff?”
Buck grinned, glad to have an audience. “Annatto’s a natural pigment. It’s why yellow cheddar is that weird kind of orange color. The dye doesn’t change flavor at all, it's just like a visual thing that cheesemakers use to make the cheese look consistent and stuff.”
Eddie cocked an eyebrow. “So what about regular cheddar? Is it less fancy because it’s white?”
“Not at all,” Buck said quickly, scrolling to another video. “Cheddar can be all kinds of colors naturally. The dye thing is mostly tradition and marketing. But the flavor depends on things like aging and milk quality or even the region it's aging in. I’m telling you, it’s a whole universe.”
“You’re deep into this. What got you hooked?”
Buck shrugged, his cheeks going pink “I was bored one afternoon and stumbled into the cheesemonger rabbit hole. Then I realized there are these amazing people who make and sell cheese, and they’re on TikTok explaining all this stuff and they really dumb it down for beginners. So I started watching. Then commenting. Then making my own videos.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Youve made TikToks about cheese?”
Buck nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I did a little bit showing the cheeses I picked up from the farmers market that one day. People liked it so I kinda just kept it up for fun. One video got like 30 thousand views, that was cool!”
Eddie laughed. “Who knew my boyfriend was the next big thing in the artisan cheese community?”
“Hey, it’s a niche market,” Buck said with mock seriousness. “I’m just trying to contribute.”
Eddie felt a wave of warmth wash over him. This was the Buck he loved. A man who was curious, enthusiastic, willing to dive headfirst into the little things that made him happy, even if it meant geeking out about cheese online.
They spent the next hour watching cheesemonger videos together with Buck pointing out textures, explaining how rind develops, and describing the differences between washed-rind and bloomy-rind cheeses. Eddie tried to keep up but mostly just sat back and enjoyed Buck’s excitement.
At one point, Buck read a comment disputing the difference between cheddar types and laughed. “This guy says yellow cheddar is a totally different cheese. No, it’s just color, dude.”
Eddie shook his head, smiling. “I swear, you’ve got a PhD in cheese now.”
“Just wait until I start pairing wines,” Buck said, eyes shining. “Or making cheese boards that would put all the foodies to shame.”
Eddie pulled Buck close, grateful yet again for the easy intimacy in moments like this. “You’re ridiculous. But I love it.”
Buck leaned into him, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Ridiculous, yes. Lovable? Absolutely.”
In the quiet after the videos, Eddie realized that living with Buck meant always finding new layers of him, and falling more in love with his boyfriend at every turn.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
V. The Voices
Eddie wasn’t sure what had drawn him in first—the sound of Buck’s goofy pirate voice echoing through the kitchen or the way Buck fully committed to the performance with exaggerated gestures, a wooden spoon raised like a sword.
He stood frozen just inside the doorway, hands still full of groceries, listening as Buck spun a ridiculous tale to an imaginary crew, switching effortlessly into a squeaky voice warning about the “cursed oregano,” then morphing into a gruff Viking who threatened “to feast on the mightiest stew the Nine Realms have ever known.”
Eddie’s lips twitched in disbelief. This was Buck. His strong, confident, tough-as-nails Buck, performing a one-man show in their kitchen like a kid with a too vivid imagination.
And he loved it.
He remembered those nights years ago, before they were anything but friends, when Buck would come over to help with Chris. Eddie would tuck Chris into bed, and Buck would settle on the edge of the mattress or in a chair nearby, reading the same children’s books night after night. Buck’s voice would shift and slide through goofy characters and wild accents, bringing the stories alive for Chris. And even though Eddie pretended to just be the responsible adult, he always caught himself smiling or laughing quietly at Buck’s playful antics.
It had been one of those little cracks in the “just friends” facade, one of those small moments that hinted there was more beneath the surface. That they were meant to be more than best friends for each other, even if it was a terrifying reality in some ways.
And now here was Buck again, alone in their kitchen, playing to an audience of none. But enjoying himself and being that privately goofy and lovable man that he just couldn't get enough of.
Eddie stepped closer quietly, still grinning.
Buck, oblivious to Eddie’s presence, took a deep breath and struck a dramatic pose. “Avast, ye scallywags! To the spice rack, or we walk the plank!”
Eddie cleared his throat softly.
Buck froze mid-sentence, eyes wide as if he was caught doing something wrong, a light pink rising on his cheeks. “Eddie?”
“Yeah,” Eddie said, stepping into the room fully, setting the bags down. “I didn’t know you had a whole repertoire of voices still.”
Buck scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “Yeah. I talk to myself sometimes when I’m doing stuff around the house. Makes it less boring.”
“You know, it reminds me of how you used to do those voices when you read to Chris.” Eddie smiles warmly. “Ya know before he was a teenager and didn't even want to be seen in the same room as us.”
Buck’s eyes softened at the memory. “Yeah. Chris always loved the goofy voices. I remember it making bedtime easier. I guess I just never stopped.”
Eddie nodded, taking a step closer. “You wanna show me your whole cast?”
“Only if you join in.”
Eddie laughed, the sound full of affection. “Alright, Pirate Eddie reporting for duty.”
Buck’s face lit up. “Excellent! The captain demands a loyal crew!”
For the next twenty minutes, the kitchen transformed into their stage. They took turns voicing characters from the wildest realms, from high seas to enchanted forests, breaking into laughter when they messed up lines or exaggerated too much.
Eddie was surprised at how much fun he was having. The silliness melted away the stress of the day, and all that mattered was the easy companionship, the shared joy of goofing around.
After a particularly ridiculous Viking rant about the magical powers of cheese, Eddie collapsed onto the couch, breathless from laughter as dinner cooked in the oven.
Buck flopped beside him, smiling wide. “See? Told you it was better with company.”
Eddie looked over at him, warmth flooding his chest. “I think this might be my new favorite thing about living with you.”
“You’re stuck with me, voice actor and all.”
Eddie smiled, leaning his head against Buck’s shoulder. “Yeah. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The afternoon faded into quiet comfort, filled with the soft sounds of their laughter and the unspoken promise that their weird, wonderful life was only just beginning.
+1. Eddie’s Everything Showers
The first few times Buck noticed it, he didn’t think much of it. Eddie liked long showers, so what? They were firefighters. Long days and longer nights where they'd come home achy and exhausted, and covered in soot. Half the time Buck wanted to stand under hot water for an hour himself after a brutal shift. But Eddie’s weren’t just long. They were methodical. Precise. Scheduled. It wasn't like he was just jumping in for a little longer than usual after a shift. No, it was more than that.
Every Monday, Thursday, and Saturday night like clockwork, Eddie would disappear into the bathroom for upwards of 45 minutes, sometimes up to an hour. The first few times it happened, they hadn’t been living together yet. Buck was just staying over, either post-shift or because Chris was at a friend's house and Eddie didn't want to sleep alone in the house.
Back then, Buck figured maybe Eddie was jerking off and didn’t want to do it with him right there. Buck could understand that. Or maybe he was just decompressing. Who was Buck to judge? Everyone needed time alone. He chalked it up to that, shrugged, and let it go.
But now that they lived together, Buck had started noticing the pattern more. Noticed how scheduled it all was, how often it happened.
And he was curious.
Especially the times when he passed the closed bathroom door and caught the scent of eucalyptus and something faintly floral that didn’t match Eddie’s usual, no-nonsense body wash. Or the quiet, very specific sound of plastic lids popping and bottles being set gently on the counter. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, he was just trying to brush his teeth and couldn’t help but notice that Eddie’s showers weren’t just showers. They were definitely…more.
He’d teased him once, offhandedly.
“You know you’re allowed to leave hot water for the rest of us, right?”
Eddie had just smirked, towel around his neck, hair damp and sticking up a bit in an awkward yet adorable way. “I have a system.”
“A system?”
Eddie had shrugged. “It’s a self-care thing.”
And that was the end of it.
Buck hadn’t pushed. Part of loving Eddie meant understanding that he kept some things close to the chest. That he didn’t always want to explain the routines and rituals that helped him feel human after years of training himself to only need the bare minimum.
So Buck let it lie. Even if he was still, maybe, a little curious.
Until the night he really couldn’t hold it in anymore.
They’d both gotten off shift late. Buck was starving and tired and already eyeing the leftovers Eddie promised would be waiting for him. Eddie had come home ten minutes before him, just long enough to shed his uniform and disappear into the bathroom for, what Buck now recognized as, the Thursday night shower.
And Buck? Buck had made the mistake of drinking a full water bottle on the ride home.
He gave it ten minutes. Then twenty.
And by thirty, he was pacing.
The house only had one bathroom. It was small but nice, tucked near the master bedroom. It was fine for the three of them, retrofitted with all the things Chris needed, and they'd worked out a pretty decent schedule for showers and such. But, there really was no accounting for moments like this. Emergencies. Buck banged on the door once, lightly.
“Hey, you almost done?”
No answer.
“Babe? I really gotta pee.”
Still nothing.
He was two seconds from peeing in a bottle when desperation made the decision for him. He twisted the knob—thank God it was unlocked—and pushed the door open, ready to announce his dire need.
What he wasn’t ready for was what he walked into.
The bathroom was filled with a soft layer of steam that smelled faintly of rosemary, citrus, and something sweet he couldn’t name. The mirror was slightly fogged, but through it, Buck could see Eddie standing at the sink, shirtless, in a pair of gym shorts, carefully smearing something purple and sparkly across his cheekbones.
He paused mid-motion, one hand holding a jar labeled something in French, the other dotting glittery goo across his jawline.
On the counter sat a full lineup of products; creams, sprays, brushes, tiny pots with lids off, a jade roller, and a very plush-looking microfiber headband pushed up over Eddie’s forehead to keep his hair out of the way.
Buck’s jaw dropped.
Eddie stared at him, wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Uh,” Buck said, blinking. “I really gotta pee.”
Eddie took a half-step back, waving toward the toilet. “Knock yourself out.”
Buck shuffled past, trying not to knock over a precariously balanced tub of what he now realized was labeled Sea Moss Hydration Cream .
As he relieved himself, he tried not to stare at the row of perfectly arranged shower products in the corner. Scrubs, oils, soaps, things in rose gold and navy bottles that looked more like potions than hygiene items.
When he was done, he washed his hands and turned to find Eddie back at the mirror, carefully smoothing the mask over his nose. He avoided Buck’s eyes through the glass.
“Sorry,” Buck said, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t mean to barge in.”
Eddie shrugged, but it was stiff. “No big deal.”
“You, uh... got a hot date I don’t know about?”
That got a little smirk. “Thursdays are for skin barrier repair, not romance, Buckley.”
Buck snorted. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear from your mouth.”
Eddie didn’t laugh. He was quiet for a beat, finishing the mask with a flick along his jawline, then rinsing his fingers in the sink. He grabbed a towel and patted his face gently, movements precise.
“This is kind of embarrassing,” he said finally, voice a bit insecure around the edges.
Buck looked at him, really looked, and saw it then. The tightness in his shoulders. The subtle dip of his chin. The way he stood just a little straighter than usual, like he was bracing for something.
“It shouldn’t be.”
Eddie let out a humorless laugh. “I mean, come on. It’s a whole thing. I spend almost an hour in here three nights a week doing this shit. You probably thought I was jerking off.”
“Well,” Buck said slowly, “maybe once or twice.”
That got a ghost of a real smile. But Eddie still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“I started doing it after Shannon left,” Eddie admitted. “Chris would go to sleep, and I needed something... to make the house feel quiet in a good way. So I got into skincare. First it was just washing my face. Then I added one thing, then another. It helped me focus. Made me feel like I was still a person. Like I was taking care of something.”
Buck felt a lump rise in his throat.
“I never did it at the station. Too many guys. Too many jokes. Even when you stayed over, I’d skip it. Or wait until you left. I didn’t want you to think I was—” He broke off. “I don’t know. High maintenance. Or vain.”
Buck reached out and gently took Eddie’s wrist. “Eddie. I’m the guy who draws faces on his burger pickles and talks to himself in cartoon voices. I eat raw bell peppers at 2am like they’re apples. And you think I’d judge you for putting lotion on your face?”
Eddie finally looked at him. His eyes were a little pink. Not from crying, but from emotion welling up at the edges.
Buck smiled. “I think it’s beautiful. That you take care of yourself like this. That you have something just for you.”
Eddie swallowed hard. “I didn’t know if I’d feel comfortable doing it after we moved in together. But then you kept doing all your weird shit, and I thought... maybe.”
Buck stepped in closer. “I love your weird shit. All of it.”
“I use a scalp scrub,” Eddie confessed.
Buck just snorted. “Is that why your hair smells like a botanical garden?”
“I have a specific foot balm.”
“Babe, I know what we do for work. Thank God you have a foot balm.”
That finally made Eddie laugh, really laugh, soft and sheepish and affectionate. Buck grinned and leaned in to kiss his cheek, careful to avoid the little remnants of the mask.
“You wanna finish your... glitter face thing?” he asked.
“It’s a mask,” Eddie said, deadpan.
“Right. Your sparkly skin ritual. I’ll leave you to it.”
But Eddie caught his hand before he could go. “You can stay. If you want.”
So Buck stayed. He perched on the closed toilet seat while Eddie walked him through every step. What the products did, what order they went in, how he learned it all from a Reddit thread and a YouTuber named Alex with perfect skin and a sarcastic streak.
Buck listened, fascinated.
After the mask came the toner, which smelled like rosewater, and then a vitamin C serum “for glow.” Then moisturizer, eye cream, and lip balm. And when Eddie spritzed his face with the final mist, he sighed like his soul had just healed itself.
Buck stood and kissed his forehead. “You look radiant.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”
“No, seriously. I’m blinded. Like staring at the sun.”
Eddie bumped their shoulders together. “You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot.”
“Yeah. You are.”
They left the bathroom together, hands brushing, the scent of rosemary and rosewater trailing after them like a promise. Buck didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.