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It’s not often that Buck wakes before Eddie—he’s usually the type of guy to snuggle into the blankets when waking up, groan at the time displayed on his phone, and fall right back asleep after snoozing his alarms. It’s not often he does get to snooze an alarm, as being late to a job where you’re a first responder is a bit contradictory.
Eddie’s always been the early riser in their relationship, even though Eddie despises mornings. He’s the type of person to stare at the ceiling for a minute and contemplate his life before getting up and to it while Buck is star-fished out on the mattress, deep asleep and still having another thirty minutes till his alarm goes off.
However, today is different; it’s their forty-eight off—the first day of it—and Buck has woken up at nine am to find his Eddie still asleep next to him, drooling unceremoniously on his pillow. Buck knows he’s deep asleep, as Eddie only drools when he is. His hair is poking up at all odd, gravity-defying angles, his face is smashed into the edge of his pillow, and he’s out cold.
Buck takes a moment to take in the sight, smiling softly as he gently reaches a hand out. It stalls in the air for a moment, wondering if he should touch Eddie—the man is a light sleeper due to his army days, something that never really goes away, as well as his current job as a firefighter and dad.
However, he takes the chance and knows that either way, Eddie won’t be mad at him. The first touch of Eddie’s soft skin under his rough fingertips makes him smile, shuffling closer slightly. Their legs tangle slowly, and Eddie shifts closer in his unconscious state, seeking Buck out in his sleep.
It makes him smile softly, eyes crinkling at the edges as he trails a path down Eddie’s cheek with the back of his pointer finger. It’s a slow, gentle caress as he takes in Eddie’s soft, peaceful face as he sleeps. Eddie doesn’t even shift under his slow ministrations, thumb sweeping under his right eye.
It’s not the eye with his beauty mark under it, but if Buck were to look closely, he’d find a smaller, more hidden one under Eddie’s eyelashes. It’s one he loves to kiss when Eddie decides to flop on him and nuzzle their faces closely, the intimacy between them in those quiet moments of melding together and kissing better than sex.
Buck continues to sweep his thumb under Eddie’s eye, head nestled on his pillow, his other arm tucked under it. He’s content to stay here, lay here in bed with Eddie asleep next to him, and gaze at his Eddie for hours. If he had an artistic ability, he’d be able to paint Eddie from memory: every wrinkle, every beauty mark or golden freckle, every slope of his face, all from memory. If he could, he’d carve Eddie out of stone, continue carving till he set the man free from the confines of the mineral.
Buck gently pulls his thumb away, using the back of his pointer finger to make a path up and down the slope of Eddie’s nose, smiling softly to himself as Eddie shuffles in his sleep, a pleased sigh escaping his parted lips before he settles once more. Buck never stops his languid, loving ministrations as he gazes at Eddie.
He’s sure he looks like a lovesick puppy with how much love he’s gazing at Eddie with, but he can’t help it—the contentment, the warmth of being with Eddie warms Buck to the core. He can’t help it, he loves Eddie with all of his heart—his heart beats more with love for Eddie than it does for the necessity to pump his blood through his body.
Eddie lets out a slow, content mmh as he closes his mouth, a thin line of drool cooling on his chin. Buck doesn’t stop his slow movements, making a path up and down the side of Eddie’s nose now, slightly envious of how smooth Eddie’s skin is. He wants nothing more than to shuffle closer and pepper Eddie’s face with kisses; however, he supposes that’d wake Eddie. For now, Buck settles for making up paths on Eddie’s face for his fingers to follow, caressing his lover’s face gently.
-
Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been awake, but waking to Buck’s fingers gently petting his face is something he could get used to. There’s this pattering feeling in his chest as his heart thunders away languidly—he’s still half-asleep, but he’s aware of every little path Buck’s fingers take as they trace the edges of his jaw, and pauses on his slight stubble. He doesn’t open his eyes, even though he’d love to see the lovesick look Buck is gazing at him with—he’s seen it a thousand times over, and will see it a thousand times more, so he can wait a few extra minutes. For now, he basks in the sensations.
It’s not often that Buck’s awake before him, seeing as despite Buck liking the mornings—like the weirdo, chipper person he is—Buck likes his beauty sleep. He doesn’t get cranky per se if he has less sleep than he’d like, but he does get pouty. As much as Eddie loves kissing that pout away—and, dios, he enjoys it greatly—he knows that Buck not being well-rested is a subtle recipe for disaster.
He gets tired and quiet, and Eddie hates missing out on Buck’s rambles; his lack of sleep also puts a damper on the team’s mood as well, as Buck is their sun that gives them energy. They feed off of Buck’s infectious energy, and when he’s not energetic, neither are they.
Buck’s fingers slip down his jaw steadily, pulling him from his thoughts. His brain feels like tender mush, one half pulling him toward wakefulness, while the other tugs him back toward the blissful stretch of sleep—he could fall asleep with the way Buck’s fingers slip under his jaw and pet the underside of it.
He’s never had this tender sort of love pointed at him—he’s always been the one giving it. With Buck, he’s experienced new things in relationships for the first time—it’s easy with Buck, too. Loving him is as easy as breathing; it’s simply in, out, in, out, a movement you’re often not consciously aware of. It just happens; unstopping, unyielding.
Eddie lets out a soft groan from his nose, feeling Buck’s hand slip away from his face. Well, that won’t do—he reaches out blindly, movements lazy and stilted with how heavy his body feels from sleep, but he manages to find Buck’s hand and grasp his wrist. Buck makes a startled hum in the back of his throat, huffing softly as Eddie, quite unceremoniously, he’ll admit, shoves his face into Buck’s palm.
His nose nuzzles into the indents there, the roughness of Buck’s palm that still smells faintly of Buck’s expensive peach-scented lotion he uses before bed. His lips press into the skin, humming against it. “Don’ stop,” he grumbles, eyes remaining shut. His fingers grasped around Buck’s wrist have instinctively found his pulse point, feeling it thud rhythmically under his pressing digits.
“You’re such a cat, Eds,” Buck mumbles, laughing softly; however, he does oblige Eddie’s request. It’s more of a demand, but Eddie’s sleepy, and he doesn’t want Buck to stop touching him. Buck’s hand settles back on his face, fingers curving to fit over his cheek before running through his hair slightly. He’s sure it’s a mess, as it usually is whenever he sleeps hard. The feeling of Buck’s hands sliding through his hair is pleasant, making him let out a soft sigh of contentment.
He presses into Buck’s hand slightly as it tugs free of his hair and slides up and down his cheek, the back of his finger and knuckle tracing a path up and down it. “Good morning,” Buck murmurs, bedding shuffling slightly before a kiss is gently placed on his forehead.
“G’mornin’,” Eddie whispers in return, hand sliding under the sheets to find Buck’s hip. He settles it there for a moment, squeezing Buck’s hip before he slides it under Buck’s shirt and down to rest on his lower back, tugging the blond forward with the leverage. Buck makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat as Eddie finally opens his eyes once Buck is pressed against him. If he were to look, he wouldn’t know where he ended, and Buck began.
The first thing he sees is Buck’s beautiful, bright baby blue eyes half-hidden behind his fluttering flaxen lashes. His face is passive with a soft smile resting on his lips, gazing at Eddie with so much love in his eyes. He’s sure he’s mirroring the blond’s expression. “Hi, mi sol.” Eddie croons, hand pulling out from under his pillow to frame Buck’s hand resting on his face, lacing with the blond’s. He tugs Buck’s hand from his face for a moment, kissing the meat of his palm before resting it back on his face.
“Mm, hi, Eds,” Buck says, a soft blush dusting the highs of his cheeks. Buck always gets so flustered when Eddie uses the myriad of spanish pet names he has for the blond, especially in the morning. Something about his morning voice, and the way the pet names roll off his tongue. Buck’s thumb caresses under his eye slowly, gently sweeping under it, making his eyes flutter. If Buck keeps this up, he’ll be flopping back down and heading straight back to sleep.
“Sleep well?” Eddie asks, hand remaining on Buck’s lower back while the one laced with the hand on his face slips away to curl under Buck’s head and toy with his curls. “You’re up early,” He’s not sure what time it is, but early for them usually means up before or with Eddie. Although their last shift was fucking hectic to say the least—hectic would, honestly, be an understatement.
He’s glad their forty-eight off coincided with being directly after the shift from hell. He’s sure he slept like a log, and for a long time—he needed it, okay? Everyone in LA decided yesterday was a great day to crash their cars, or set their backyards and living rooms on fire within the 118’s prefecture.
“I slept well,” Buck says, smiling at him. There’s a small bruise blooming on the underside of his jaw, standing out against his pale skin streaked by the light peering through the closed slats of the blinds. The bruise came from a very disgruntled woman who had kicked her door open when they were attempting to wrench it open, causing it to smash into Buck’s helmet and clip his jaw.
He cleared both his and Hen’s evaluations and kept an ice pack on it for as long as possible while they were at the station, so the swelling is minimal at best, and it’ll fade well. “I wouldn’t call nine am early, though, Eds. You slept like a log, even drooled, so I know you definitely slept well.” Buck snorts, shaking his head slightly as Eddie tugs on one of his curls, coiling it around his finger and letting it bounce back into place.
“Mm, too damn early if I say so. Especially after the shift we had yesterday,” Eddie grumbles, tugging Buck closer with a hand cupping the back of his neck. Even with the slightly odd angle, his fingers find Buck’s pulse point under the tender, bruised bolt of the blond’s jaw, feeling his pulse under his fingertips. It’s steady, a good resting rhythm that beats under his fingertips. Eddie counts it for as long as Buck lets him before the blond nestles into his body, slings a leg over his hip, and steals his attention away with a soft, sleepy kiss.
“You put up a good point,” Buck mumbles, stifling a yawn into the edge of Eddie’s pillow. His eyes flutter softly with the movement, a barely-there wince hidden in his movement. Eddie frowns, pulling back slightly. Buck whines in retaliation, glaring at him as he twists to reach for his nightstand. “Where are you going?”
“Hold on, mi amor,” Eddie placates, shifting slightly to grasp the handle of his drawer and pull it open. He doesn’t even have to look as he shuffles around the slightly packed drawer, quickly finding the mostly empty tube of arnica gel. They’ve gone through a lot of these tubes over the years, and always keep a stash of them around the house, usually right next to their hidden stash of lube.
Buck looks at the tube, looking slightly disgruntled from Eddie oh-so-rudely detaching his barnacle of a lover from his warm body. A tragedy, really. Eddie pops the cap with his thumb, pressing the depleted tube against his palm to squeeze a bit of the gel out onto his thumb. Then, he recaps it and drops the tube between them atop the sheets to be dealt with after he’s finished putting the gel on.
Buck looks at him as he gently reaches out and smooths the gel over his bruised jaw. “There we go,” Eddie murmurs, returning the gentle caresses as he rubs the arnica gel into Buck’s jaw, massaging it carefully. Buck’s eyes flutter shut with a weak, sweet sound, sagging into the pillow.
“’Fan’ks,” Buck mumbles, stifling a yawn, the bruised bolt of his jaw working slightly under Eddie’s sweeping thumb as Eddie watches Buck’s eyes flutter close. His long, flaxen lashes catch on the pillowcase, just a small sliver of his beautiful blue eyes left for Eddie to see. The blond is staring at him through his lashes, looking almost completely asleep by now, hushed sounds of content coming from his throat. Eddie smiles softly as he rubs the last of the gel in and twists back to his open nightstand drawer to drop the tube in. By the time he manages to shut the drawer and shuffle back to face Buck, he’s already long asleep.
However, it doesn’t stop him from drifting close to Eddie, closing the minute space between them. His leg adjusts on Eddie’s thigh, calf pressing against his ass and the back of his thigh, and insufferably cold toes pressing into his skin. Despite being under the covers for eleven hours, Buck’s toes are still ice-cold. He sighs softly, but doesn’t dwell on it, long used to it. He slides his hand back under Buck’s shirt, humming softly as he pets the soft skin there, dragging his pointer finger’s knuckle up and down Buck’s spine, bumping over his vertebrae.
He takes a moment for himself to look at Buck’s handsome face, slack with sleep, half on his own pillow and Eddie’s, fast asleep. He’s haloed by the almost midmorning sun peering through the slats of the blinds; it’s not the golden light that shows up around seven in the morning, but it’s still enough to make Buck look wonderfully ethereal as he rests. Eventually, he’ll win Buck over and change those blinds to curtains; he’s woken up far too many times with a beam of sun right in his eye. His hand tenderly rubs Buck’s back, eyes fluttering shut in little increments.
“I love you,” Eddie whispers as he feels himself fade back into blissful unconsciousness. Buck’s already fast asleep, but he likes to think Buck will always know when he says I love you to him. From across the room, or across the world, he hopes Buck will know whenever Eddie professes his love to him. “So much, mi sueño.” Eddie murmurs as he yawns, his hand splayed against Buck’s lower back, and bodies pressed so close together, if Eddie focuses, he can feel Buck’s heart beat against his chest.
It’s the knowledge of their tender, forever love—marked by the wedding certificate in their drawer for important documents, and the rings on their fingers warmed by their bodies—that lets Eddie fall back asleep, safe in the knowledge Buck will be there when he wakes, and this process will repeat over and over.
He never wants it to stop; as long as he and Buck live, their love will be as tender and bright as the day they first kissed under the dim lighting of the kitchen, swaying to a wordless song Eddie hummed. What began as a joke from Buck lamenting about never getting to dance with someone turning into something that’ll last as long as their hearts do, Eddie slumbers with his lover pressed safely into his body, and his cold toes against his thigh and under his calf.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.