Work Text:
It’s with slow clarity that Eddie wakes up—he’s in the dark room shared with Buck, who is clinging to him like a barnacle would to a rock. It’s a usual sight for him to wake to, as Buck is a big cuddler, and also freezing cold most of the time. Eddie often jokes that Pennsylvania couldn’t keep him, but the snow that’d fall like clockwork embedded itself into him, always making him chilly. However, Buck retorts that Eddie, his two-for-one deal, husband and personal heater, would just chase the chill away.
Sometimes, he doesn’t have a choice when Buck sticks his cold feet on him unceremoniously, and smiles that cheeky, innocent smile at Eddie that always soothes his mock annoyance.
His eyes slip open slowly, a soft breath leaving his nose as he finds himself very, very close to Buck, who is sleeping soundly. They’re both sharing the same pillow, and Eddie’s pretty sure if he were to shuffle back slightly, his ass would be falling off the bed with how close he is to it. However, he doesn’t mind, because Buck clings to him with a fierceness, despite being fast asleep. His lashes flutter occasionally, little wordless mutters falling from cracked-open lips as Buck breathes through his nose. He’s dreaming, clearly; his eyes rove under his eyelids, his fingers twitch where they’re tangled with Eddie’s shirt, and his toes shuffle from where they’re stuck under and between Eddie’s legs, siphoning his warmth.
With Buck being so close, Eddie can take in his features without the blond getting flustered and hiding his face from Eddie. One of the few pluses to Buck sleeping—though, Eddie does already miss his voice even though he’s only been awake for a few minutes, and a hundred percent of that time has been spent staring at his handsome, sleeping husband. He can’t help it, okay? Buck is just so… handsome, pretty, beautiful, gorgeous, if he wants to get a little extravagant. Looking at the beautiful man he married is a luxury Eddie gets to partake in during every minute he’s awake.
Like right now, he’s taking Buck in, looking at the little details hiding in plain sight that he gets the blessing of seeing up close. The little blond freckles under his eyes; his long lashes; the bump in the slope of his nose; the softness of his cheeks, and the little bruise on his jaw from their last shift. With his eyes, he drinks Buck’s features down, tracing the edges of Buck’s jaw, the soft swell of his cheeks, and the few curls that slip onto his forehead as he slumbers. He takes it all in as best he can with just his eyes, and finally allows his hand to slip out from under the covers to cup Buck’s jaw. It’s reminiscent of the morning before, only, Buck was cupping his cheek yesterday. Now, it’s Eddie’s turn to do his little morning ritual.
Of course, Buck isn’t aware of this ritual—he’d have to be awake for that, which he isn’t.
It’s very well-known that Eddie is not a morning person, despite how god awfully early he gets up; the times he has to wake up, or his body decides to wake him up at nauseate him too, don’t worry. However, the thing that helps him tolerate the morning better than a hot cup of coffee would is laying with Buck for a minute or so, and gazing at him, taking in every slope of his sleeping lover’s face, and relishing in having Buck by his side. The mere sight of Buck eases him into the mornings, allowing them to be far more tolerable than they would be without the blond. Buck is rarely ever awake before him—shift changes, insomnia, or Eddie sleeping in late usually lead to Buck being awake before him; however, they’re rare occurrences, so Eddie can allow himself a few minutes in bed just staring at Buck.
Like now, as Eddie takes Buck’s cheek into his hand, fingers curving over the softness there, and framing Buck’s ear with his fingertips. Buck’s warm under his touch, cheek twitching slightly under his fingers as Buck grumbles something under his breath, lips smacking together. However, he remains asleep, despite Eddie’s feather-light touches—he doubts Buck will wake up because of them; he does them so often, Buck’s accustomed to them. Eddie starts a slow, gentle tracing of Buck’s cheekbone with his thumb, sweeping over it over and over, and just allowing himself a moment of quiet, easy love.
Eddie cherishes the silence as much as he cherishes the loud; with Buck, he cherishes everything. The tender love woven into the fibers of their shared soul; the strained, whisper-arguments; the loud love in the way they gravitate toward each other like two opposite sides of a magnet; the everything. Every part of his and Buck’s relationship—the good and the bad—is something Eddie will always love regardless.
These quiet, easy moments with Buck remain to be one of his favorites, though. Even though Buck isn’t awake, he’s still nuzzling into his palm, gravitating impossibly closer to Eddie in his sleep, and showing Eddie how much love the blond has for him in his unconscious movements. “Amor,” Eddie whispers so silently he can barely hear himself. He shuffles closer slightly, nose brushing against Buck’s as his thumb ventures higher up. It sweeps under Buck’s eyelid, catching on his lower lashes. It makes Buck’s lashes flutter and twitch, nose scrunching slightly as Eddie smooths his thumb back and forth. Buck’s skin is soft to the touch, warm, and still smelling slightly like his peach lotion. “Love you.”
Buck lets out a soft, slow breath, remaining asleep. However, Eddie can feel him beginning to wake; he always stretches in his sleep, uncurling from whatever position he was in to lay straight on his side or back. Eddie smiles softly, feeling their legs untangle, but their knees bump together as Buck’s legs stretch out. A soft, grumbly whine leaves Buck’s mouth as his eyes begin to flutter more often, a telling sign he’s about to wake up.
Eddie doesn’t stop himself from leaning closer, keeping his hand cupped on Buck’s cheek to press a soft kiss to Buck’s forehead. “Buck,” Eddie whispers against Buck’s skin, peppering kisses up and down his forehead and temple. He adjusts his hand to slide around the back of Buck’s neck, twirling a finger into a curl there. Moving his hand allows him to press kisses on the side of Buck’s nose, and around his cheeks as Buck sighs softly under him, pressing into the kisses as his eyes slip open. “There you are,” Eddie murmurs, staring at Buck’s soft, sleepy blue eyes half-hidden by his lashes. “Good morning, mi sol.”
Buck lets out a grumble that he can… somewhat interpret as good morning but it comes out more as ggmmuhg. It makes Eddie smile as he continues to pepper kisses on Buck’s cheek, working on a path down till he captures Buck’s lips, swallowing the sweet hum vibrating against his lips. Buck’s arm flops out from where he’s tucked against his body to swing over Eddie’s waist, fingers fisting his loose tank top fabric. Eddie smiles against Buck’s lips, stealing the breath from his lungs as their lips move with familiar, easy, slow motions. It’s not monotonous, it’s a practiced love full of easy and familiar motions. Despite its repetition, Eddie loves every second of it.
“Mm, Eds,” Buck slurs slightly against his lips when they pull away. He’s sleep-flushed, the highs of his cheeks burning pink. His eyes are hazy with love and sleep, lashes flutter as he breathes in, and stretches like a cat. His arms leave the warmth of the covers and stretch high above his head, knocking into the headboard as his body shudders. Eddie smiles softly, watching Buck’s face scrunch slightly, a stretched-out groan leaving him. “G’morning,” he says, turning his head, and fluttering his lashes open to stare at Eddie as his arms come back down, laying on the top of the covers. Buck’s on his back now, and Eddie remains on his side, propped up by an elbow digging into the mattress, bolstering his head as he stares at his husband.
“Good morning,” Eddie says, gazing at Buck with as much love as he can put into his stare. If he could pour his love out of his body to show Buck how much he loved him, the house would be entirely submerged in it. Buck smiles softly at him, shuffling over to lay on his side, facing Eddie. His hands come together in a prayer position as he tucks them under his cheek, between his face and his pillow, gazing at Eddie with a look he knows. It’s the look that Buck wears—puppy dog eyes at the ready, pout already forming, and mischief in his eyes—whenever he decides today is a day where they don’t need to get out of bed.
As much as Eddie would like to give in, and damn, a day laying in bed with his husband sounds like the perfect way to spend his last day in their forty-eight off, but Eddie has things he needs to do. Things Buck also knows that Eddie needs to get done, and Buck has a small list of things he needs to get done as well. “No,” Eddie says as Buck goes to open his mouth. “Nuh-uh, can that thought, amor,” Eddie kisses the clear pout off of Buck’s lips in a quick motion before shifting, sitting up, and tossing his feet off the edge of the bed. He’s standing up before Buck can let out a petulant Eddie! and reach across the bed for him. He looks like a little starfish of agony, glaring at him from where his face is squished into the warm spot Eddie just vacated.
Don’t get Eddie wrong, having a barnacle of a husband is great—Buck is like velcro, and Eddie will happily welcome Buck into his orbit, not that he ever leaves it, but he needs to get a head start on things. Eddie smiles softly at Buck’s dramatic groan muffled in their bed as Eddie slips out of the bedroom. He knows that Buck is wrestling with himself on whether to follow Eddie into the kitchen like a lost puppy, or stand his ground and lay around in bed all day.
Eddie knows that each option has a very real chance of winning over, and Eddie will allow his husband to do whatever he wants—they’re not scheduled until later afternoon tomorrow, so Buck can do his small list of chores tomorrow. Eddie won’t begrudge him; he’ll even make him food and bring it to their bedroom so Buck can eat. Eddie doesn’t mind it; everyone needs a day to just… lay around and do nothing.
Eddie slips into the kitchen, humming a tune from the telenovela he and Chris are watching together, the theme song stuck in all the Diaz family members’ heads. He’s even caught Buck humming it, even though he knows Buck isn’t watching it. He’s just humming it after hearing him and Chris hum or sing it terribly off-key.
He heads straight to the coffee pot, needing the kick that coffee will give him to start his day fully. The couple of minutes just gazing at Buck gave him enough energy, but coffee will be the last boost he needs for the day. Even though Eddie hates technology, he begrudgingly allowed Buck to update his coffee brewer finally. It’s not something fully tech-based like the Hildy—which will never grace his house ever again—but it’s something easy with clear-cut buttons, and no freaky AI talking to him, or a screen with options. It’s just lovely little buttons that make a very satisfying click when he presses them.
Eddie scoops the grounds into the machine, pressing brew just as he feels hands slide aorund his waist, fisting the front of his t-shirt. He smiles softly, shaking his head as Buck’s head flops against his shoulder, a soft groan leaving the blond’s mouth. “Spousal abandonment… you’re a cruel man, Eddie Diaz,” Buck mumbles petulantly into his shoulder.
“I know, how cruel am I to abandon my beautiful husband in our warm bed to brew us coffee… the horrors. Lock me up! Copper, take me away!” Eddie cries in mock-horror softly, not wanting to wake their moody teenager up. It’s still far too early for Chris to grace them with his sleep-mussed presence. Buck laughs softly into his shoulder, hooking his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. He gazes at him with pretty blue eyes, making Eddie smile at him as he settles his hand over one of Buck’s on his abdomen. “Forgive me, mi amor? If not, I’ll surrender myself for punishment.”
“Forgiven… no surrendering, I can’t do the whole long-distance between a jail cell partition. I might actually die,” Buck grumbles, squeezing Eddie tighter, and molding himself completely against Eddie’s back. Buck Buckley the Barnacle strikes once more. “I can’t do that, Eddie. Don’t go to jail.”
Eddie laughs softly, shaking his head in amusement. He has no plans to go to jail, lest he leave his barnacle of a husband to waste away, and his son with a bad role model. “I don’t plan on it anytime soon. Just means I will have to not get caught,” It’s a bit of tongue-in-cheek banter, which makes Buck eye him oddly, mock suspicion in his eyes.
“Okay, Mr. Criminal,” Buck says, kissing him on the cheek, looking a bit more awake as they banter playfully. “Just don’t like, do anything totally terrible—I don’t think my morals would like to be married to some super criminal.”
“Thanks, babe,” Eddie drawls, rolling his eyes as he grabs the two cups right next to the coffee machine, flips them over, and tugs the fully-brewed coffee pot off the machine. “I’ll keep that in mind when I go on my crime spree. Do you want your creamer, or are you feeling black coffee today?” Eddie asks as he pours their desired amount of coffee into their mugs, the steam rolling off the hot liquid and warming Eddie’s fingers.
“Creamer, but that means I’ll have to move,” Buck grumbles, eyeing the fridge with evident distaste. He looks like he wants just to reach a hand out and have the fridge walk to him, open its doors, and hand him the creamer. Eddie snorts, rolls his eyes, and sets the coffee pot back down onto the stand, a good mug and a half left in it.
“Okay, you barnacle, shuffle,” Eddie says, shuffling to the side and leading Buck over to the fridge with him still attached to Eddie, because of course he is. Buck laughs at the absurdity, but dutifully opens the refrigerator and grabs his creamer from the door shelf as Eddie parks himself right in front of it. Then, with significant loss and mourning already coursing through Eddie’s veins, Buck untangles himself from Eddie. “Dork.” He jokes, his lips captured in a quick kiss by Buck, who smiles softly at him.
“Your dork, though,” Buck says, pointing the creamer at him before walking over to the steaming coffee sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for them in their personal mugs. Eddie’s is a frog mug, with the mug rim looking like the frog’s mouth being wide open. It even has little stubby legs and arms, and is frog green. Eddie both hates and loves it—yes, he has a little love-hate relationship with the mug.
Buck’s cup has different isopods printed on it, with their scientific names under each picture. Chris has a matching one to Buck's mug, but his is different types of shrimp. They all get each other weird mugs every Christmas and birthday; it’s become a little Diaz family tradition that has spanned far before he and Buck got together.
“Yes, my dork, now give me some creamer, too.” Eddie holds out his mug as he picks it off the counter, waiting for Buck to put a splash of creamer in each of their coffees. Buck does Eddie’s first, then his own, before placing the creamer back into the fridge. Eddie takes a moment to watch the creamer rise to the surface in the coffee, creating a marbling effect in the liquid. He swirls the coffee around slightly in his mug to mix it, waiting for Buck to do the same before they clink their mugs together and take their first sips simultaneously.
It’s also another little tradition between him and Buck, and occasionally Chris whenever the teen eats breakfast with them; they always clink their glasses together in a soundless pact of unity and love between them before taking the first sips together. He’s not sure when it started, but it’s become a staple in their home.
Eddie leans against the counter, Buck taking his spot right next to him, shoulders pressed together, and hands intertwined as they drink their coffees. Eddie is gazing at Buck as the man reads the news on his phone, relaying it to Eddie in the quiet of their kitchen. The sun is beginning to come through the blinds, rising as he and Buck toss comments back and forth about the news posted today and last night, sharing their opinions and tacking on funny voices, and snickering to each other like a couple of teenagers.
It’s good, it’s perfect.
It’s love; their love.