Work Text:
Love, Buck discovers, is found in the quiet moments.
It’s found in the stillness of the early morning, sunlight slipping through the gaps in the curtains and birds chirping through the partially open window. It settles over the living room during a movie night, the smell of popcorn hanging in the air, and a warm blanket offering safety and security within its fibres. Oftentimes, it simply hums in the air, existing in the silence between two people who don’t have to speak to communicate.
Buck starts to see it in a remembered coffee order handed over at the start of a long shift. He notices it in the light, comforting dance of fingertips across his arm or a steady hand on the small of his back. Sometimes, the touch is fleeting, but it sends a shiver down his spine nonetheless. But he notices it the most in the silence. In those moments where they sit or stand alongside each other doing their own thing, Buck with a book open, and him with a sketch pad and pencil. They don’t speak. There’s no need.
Love exists anyway.
It exists with Eddie.
The first time Buck saw it was just like any other day. They’d been living together for two weeks by that point, and somehow it worked without them even trying. The furniture had been split between them — Eddie’s couch, Buck’s bed — and they decided to share the bed rather than ruin their backs or Buck’s leg by alternating between the couch. Buck would cook when they were off-shift, and Eddie would wash up. It all worked even if they hadn't planned it.
One evening, with dinner finished and Chris deep in his video game marathon with Denny, the two of them settled onto the couch, a documentary about sea creatures playing softly. Eddie sat with his sketch pad open, his pencil scratching against the page. He’d taken it up again after he got back from Texas, seeming happier than Buck had ever known him to be.
Buck watched him out of the corner of his eye. He watched the way Eddie’s eyebrows drew inwards when he concentrated, the way the tip of his tongue poked out of his mouth, and the slight tilt in his head as the pencil drifted across the page. Warmth flooded through Buck, a fluttering settling into his stomach and suddenly Maddie’s words from all those months ago made sense.
“Would it be so crazy?”
No , he thought, it wouldn’t.
He’s in love with Eddie.
Maybe he’s been in love with him all this time.
From then on, Buck notices it more and more. He feels it when their knees knock together in the rig on the way to a scene. It settles in his chest during evening meals with Christopher. Love blooms in the silence between them when they don’t feel the need to talk, and it never feels awkward or forced.
It blossoms in the early mornings, when the world around them is asleep.
Buck watches the way the sunlight streams in through the window, bathing the room in warmth. A single beam cuts across the bed and illuminates Eddie’s skin in its golden light. To Buck, he looks ethereal, otherworldly, as if he were Apollo himself who has been plucked from Olympus itself. A single strand of hair settles on his forehead in a slight curl; his usual pinched expression has been replaced with soft, relaxed eyebrows and a small smile resting on his lips.
He reaches up and lets his fingers brush the strand of hair back, only for it to fall back into place like it belongs there. Buck light scratches the top of his head, knotting his fingers into the curls.
“Are you watching me sleep?” Eddie asks, his voice gruff and groggy from sleep. He shifts a little, his cheek brushing Buck’s arm, and he opens his eyes, looking up at him with an unfocused gaze.
Heat rises in Buck’s cheek, and he can feel it spreading across his chest, his fingers still tangled up in Eddie’s hair. “You looked peaceful. Happy.”
“Do I not look happy when I’m awake?”
“You scowl a lot.” Buck continues to twist his fingers through the soft curls.
“I do not,” Eddie mumbles, something close to a frown settling into his features. “That feels nice.” He relaxes against Buck’s movements, his eyes threatening to shut. “Keep going.”
And Buck does. He pushes his hand through Eddie’s hair, all but massaging his scalp beneath the pads of his fingers. Eddie moves himself closer to Buck, his cheek resting on the bare skin of Buck’s chest. His eyes fall shut, a soft, content sigh escaping his lips. It’s intimate in a way the two of them have never been before, and Buck feels the fluttering settle in the pit of his stomach.
Warmth trickles through his veins.
“I love you,” Buck says, the words escaping him before he has the chance to second-guess them.
Eddie throws an arm over Buck’s chest, snuggling up to him and almost nuzzling against his skin. His breath tickles, his fingers tracing the tattoo on his chest. “Love you too.”
Buck’s breath catches in the back of his throat. He stops moving his fingers, shock twisting itself through his body.
“Buck?” Eddie lifts his head, tilting his chin and looking at Buck with droopy, sleep-heavy eyes. “Did I break you?”
“What?” Buck blinks. “No. I … You surprised me.”
“I mean it.” He lowers his head back to Buck’s chest with a sigh, wrapping his arm around him and inhaling deeply.
“We should—”
“—We’ll talk later.” He sighs. “Now, we sleep.”
Buck finds himself humming in agreement, wanting to exist in that moment, that bubble, for as long as possible. He scratches his fingers through Eddie’s hair and lets himself relax against the pillows.
The thin tendrils of sleep tangle themselves around his body, and he lets them drag him under, a smile dancing on his lips.
Love, Buck discovers, is found when someone isn’t looking for it.