Archive of Our Own ^beta

Buck jolts awake because of a nightmare he can’t even remember, battling with a pounding headache that has disturbed his sleep, and feels a little lightheaded and disoriented while he walks in the direction of the light coming from the kitchen. There, he finds Eddie, and Buck’s only possible reaction to what he sees is staring at his best friend as if he had grown another head overnight. 

Because it’s Saturday, Chris doesn’t have to be anywhere anytime soon and they both have the whole day off, so why on Earth would Eddie already be awake and… dressed up in comfortable gym clothes and — weirdly and excessively, if you ask Buck— focused on his iPad screen? 

Buck is still frowning and trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes when a thousand alarm bells go off in his sleep-addled brain. The last time Eddie was paying this much attention to his iPad, things didn’t turn out so well, especially for him. 

So it’s not really his fault when he blurts out a shy “are you tryna move again?” Which makes Eddie jump out of his chair. 

“Buck!” Eddie whisper-yells, sounding surprised to see him, as if Buck hadn’t been living on Eddie’s couch for the last three weeks. And, oh— God, Buck internally sighs. He knows he has to find a new place, somewhere to call home, but the truth— uh, the truth is that he simply can’t bring himself to. Can’t figure out a way to leave South Bedford Street now that he has everything he’s ever wanted. That is home, not any other place he may possibly find. And now Eddie looks like he’s seen a ghost and Buck knows, he just knows that Eddie wants him out of his hair, but— fuck, how can he— “Buck? You okay?” 

Oh, he must have zoned out. He does that a lot, to be fair. His parents hate that. And he doesn’t want to bother Eddie. He needs to focus. Maybe he could start talking again, like a normal human being, to be less of an inconvenience to Eddie — the same Eddie who’s shown anything but contentment with having Buck in his space. 

But a normal person is something Buck has discovered he isn’t whenever Eddie is within a three-foot radius of him, which is, inconveniently, all the fucking time now.

“Um… what?” Why is Eddie asking him if he’s okay?

“You look pale? And—” Eddie squints at him, for a second too long if you ask Buck, and then somehow, because Buck still hasn’t figured out how, “does your head still hurt?” He asks. Like a fucking magician. (Or maybe it’s just that Buck’s head was hurting when he went to bed too, so it’s not a surprise that he may still be in pain.)

Buck huffs, wants to roll his eyes a bit but it hurts too much. “How do you know that?” He stupidly mumbles. “And— no. Wait. What are you doing up so early?” 

Eddie’s close proximity isn’t helping with Buck’s headache but the soft hand that Eddie brushes on his shoulder, pressing slightly into his collarbone, is soothing. 

“It’s half past ten, bud, not that late,” Eddie softly informs him, looking so fond that, for a moment, Buck might believe Eddie loves him too. Sighing, he shakes his head. Great. He’s been sleeping when he could have spent more time with Eddie, more of their free time. Even if, come to think of it, they spend all of their time together these days, so… 

He’s also been sleeping when he could have helped Eddie with some house chores, which brings back the whole finding-a-new-house project that Buck keeps putting off. 

“How– why– I mean,” Buck sputters, face a little red. He forgot why he was confused in the first place. 

“Okay, you’re scaring me, Buck,” Eddie finally frowns, honestly worried.

Buck closes his eyes and takes a break. “I’m okay, just a headache, gonna take some–” He bats away Eddie’s hand that’s heading towards his face. Then he turns around to rummage through a kitchen drawer where Eddie stores their painkillers for some bizarre reason, and stops in his tracks. “Wait, why didn’t you wake me up? It’s– it’s so late, Eddie!” 

Eddie fights back a smirk, and Buck doesn’t understand. “You looked like you needed the rest yesterday, ” he simply shrugs. 

“Oh really? And have you seen yourself?” Buck quips, finally, finally concentrating to get his painkillers, and that makes Eddie snort.

“Yeah,” Eddie however ruefully tells him, admitting that he does look like he hasn’t slept in ages. He probably hasn’t. 

When Buck sits down with his bottle of painkillers and a glass of water, he exponentially relaxes, sits back down in front of him. “I wasn’t planning on moving again,” he informs his best friend, jerking his chin to point at the iPad. Buck visibly softens. His head still throbs but at least he’s sure he’s not losing Eddie again. His head hurts but his heart doesn’t. 

“What were you up to then?” He asks, genuinely interested. He is always interested in Eddie. That comes with being in love with the man, Buck has found out. Probably while Eddie was in Texas trying to fix his air conditioning system —with a frankly obscene tank top on FaceTime with him— and the relationship with his son.

Eddie’s face lights up with a big, boyish grin, tinged with a hint of mischief that Buck would genuinely give his life for, to get it to stay permanently on Eddie’s face. If he could talk to a smile, Buck would say Here, take all my money, never leave this man’s face. But then again, maybe it’s the pain making him delirious. Or just all the love.

Eddie looks so proud of himself and Buck is pretty sure he has seen this look on him maybe — if he’s generous — twice before. He can’t stop the smile that creeps up on his own face. “Come on,” he encourages him, impatient.

“I bought an Oura ring!” Eddie excitedly blurts out.

He’s almost tapping on the table with an open palm, so thrilled, delighted, in excitement, and if Buck weren’t about to succumb to his headache (should he check his will just in case? Because— seriously, this level of discomfort can’t be normal), he’d be teasing Eddie relentlessly. “You bought a what?” Instead, he says, softly rubbing his forehead.

“It’s a sleep tracker!” Eddie explains, but before he can dig further into his explanation, Buck cuts him off with wide eyes. 

“You? You, Eddie Diaz, who has a personal beef with Hildy, bought a… sleep tracker? Are you okay?” 

Eddie starts rolling his eyes two seconds into Buck’s sentence. Then, however, he smiles — because he really can’t help himself when Buck is teasing him or… is just existing near him, to be honest— and starts talking about his choice.

“I feel like shit, man,” he sighs, passing a hand over his face and then rubbing his right eye in a way that should not be this cute (according to Buck) for a grown man. “I swear I wake up and feel worse than when I go to bed, and— I just can’t sleep. Like, ever…”

Buck listens attentively, basking in how smooth and soft Eddie’s voice is, acting like a balm on his pain. Maybe because it isn’t coming out of his phone speaker. Maybe Eddie is the cure for his headache. Or maybe he’s just a hopeless, pining idiot. Anyway, he doesn’t have time to dissect the thought because Eddie keeps happily yapping about his new ring. Which is something that Buck would certainly do, not something that one would expect from Eddie, and Buck doesn’t know what this says about him, about them. 

“And I figured, you know…” He is saying when Buck realizes that he has spaced out for a minute or two. What does he know? Buck doesn’t know anything. God, he has to get a grip. Seriously. 

“A sleep tracker could help me.” 

In the end, Eddie shrugs and Buck has to fight off the urge to wrap his arms around his best friend and lull him to sleep as if he were his four-month-old nephew. Baby Bobby always appreciates his cuddles. Maybe Eddie would too? 

He smiles softly. “Yeah, I— I think so. That’s cool. Don’t know if you can wear it when on shift though…”

Eddie’s face falls for a second but then he quickly recovers. “I checked the LAFD regulations…” he admits shyly and Buck feels the sudden urge to bite his red cheeks. “I can wear it at the station, not out on calls.” 

Buck doesn’t think that it is in any way convenient but Eddie looks so proud of his idea so he isn’t going to say anything. “You are really committed, huh?” Instead, he teasingly chuckles.

However, when he catches a glimpse of Eddie’s tired eyes, mere seconds later, he feels a sharp pang somewhere between his heart and his stomach, partly because Eddie does look like he hasn’t slept in forever, partly because being in love with someone means trying to shield them from any kind of pain and often failing. Frowning, he gets up and closes the distance between them, falling into the chair adjacent to Eddie’s. 

He bumps shoulders with him delicately, a silent Hey, I’m here, I’m always here. “Wanna nap?” Then he offers, cracking a little grin, happy when Eddie laughs a bit, albeit tiredly. 

But then Eddie exhales, shaking his head slowly. “Chris is still sleeping, Buck.” What he means is that if his son hasn’t even woken up yet, there’s no way he can nap. It feels… wrong. Like he’s wasting away precious time, like he’s not being responsible. Like… like Helena Diaz is yelling at him in the back of his mind for not being enough. For not acting like a trustworthy parent. One who shows his son that it’s okay to rest when you’re tired. 

And Buck tilts his head, looks at him through his lashes — in a way that could be considered seductive if only he didn’t feel like someone’s stabbing his eyeballs — and decisively gets up, offering a hand that Eddie takes. “That’s why we’ll go napping,” he tells Eddie, “to match his perfect sleep streak, hm?” 

He’s suggesting something serious in such a silly way and in a whisper, with a conspiratorial voice and Eddie honestly doesn’t know what this weird sensation that blooms in his chest is. He’s too tired to analyze the fluttering in his stomach too. All he knows is that he squeezes Buck’s hand and lets him guide them to the couch. “Okay,” he cackles a little.

But then they settle on the couch where Buck’s sheets and pillow are still sitting from the night and Eddie frowns, turning towards him. “Wait. Why can we nap on your bed but you won’t sleep in my bed?” 

He sounds so outraged, almost offended and Buck can’t stop the soft laugh that bubbles out of him. “Shut up, sleep.”

Eddie still thinks it’s unfair that Buck will sleep literally anywhere (his couch) but his bed. Sharing a bed with Buck would be nice, he thinks. Especially since he’s missed him while he was in Texas. If they slept together, they’d spend even more time together. Maybe all of their time. And isn’t that nice? 

He tries to fall asleep thinking about all the time he can spend with Buck now that they share a house, hoping that a nice thought can help him sleep, can soothe him.

He can’t. He’s cold, Buck has fallen asleep in the opposite corner of the couch, probably already snoozing because of the painkillers, and he is stuck staring at the ceiling.

Ten, or maybe twenty (he really doesn’t know) minutes later, he is still wide awake, can’t figure out a way to get his eyes to just fucking close, rest, to get his brain to stop spinning. Buck seems to be doing better with his headache, instead. If he’s sleeping, he must be doing better. And Eddie is glad for that, but still, he can’t stop thinking and thinking and thinking. It’s exhausting. Maybe that’s why he sighs louder than he intended. 

Buck groans and Eddie holds his breath because he doesn’t want to disturb him. “Still awake?” Buck mumbles, and Eddie could reply, could share what’s on his mind — which sounds an awful lot like I can’t fall asleep to save my life, there must be something wrong with me — but instead he pretends not to hear him. At least one of them will rest. 

In the end, Chris finds Buck asleep on the couch in a weird sitting position, and his dad scrolling through his phone. Not a sight he was expecting but neither their weirdest moment, he supposes. He’ll just pretend he hasn’t seen them.

When the package containing the Oura ring arrives, Eddie cradles it so carefully, handling the whole thing with so much care that Buck wants to laugh a little. He refrains from doing so, however, especially since his friend immediately launches into downloading the app on his phone and literally plasters himself to Buck’s side to get him to watch everything closely— as if Buck had to buy a ring himself anytime soon. As if everything Eddie did had to include Buck, somehow. It warms Buck’s heart. 

“Look, now I just have to wear it,” Eddie says when everything looks set up on the phone and Buck chuckles fondly. He’s so ridiculously in love with this man that refraining from kissing him senseless is harder and harder everyday.

“You do know that it won’t magically cure your insomnia, right?” He feels like reminding Eddie, making him huff and roll his eyes.

Eddie goes as far as shoving his shoulder lightly before flipping him off. “Fuck you, I know that,” he quickly says to Buck. “I’m just so exhausted all the time.” 

He passes a hand over his face, as if it could wash away all the drowsiness he knows he’s about to succumb to. 

Buck’s features visibly soften, he wishes he could make it all better for him. If Buck could, he’d get rid of anything that troubles Eddie— always, forever. 

He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once, “Hey, I’m sure it’ll help,” sweetly murmurs.

As predicted, it does not help. Like— at all. In fact, it only serves to further irritate Eddie who keeps religiously wearing it, making sure that it’s always charged and always in one of his pockets whenever they are out on calls (so he can put it on again as soon as they’re done) and despite his efforts, still cannot sleep for the life of him. 

He could almost say it’s making things worse, if he considers the app and its little reminders that get on his nerves in a specific, peculiar way. He checks it first thing in the morning, waiting for the data to download as he sips his coffee and Buck prepares his bacon. 

His readiness score seems to mock him. 

One day it’s Time to ease up, and the next it’s You’ll pull through, and the day after that it’s Keep taking it easy, and Elevated resting heart rate, and so on.

And don’t get him started on his sleep score— God.

What kept you up? Is his favorite line, honestly. Fuck if he knew. 

One day he huffs way too much, something so deep between a sigh and a yawn that Buck, who’s comfortably preparing Chris’s lunch for the day, pauses his movements to take a look at his best friend. He can see Eddie’s bone-deep fatigue, his exhaustion, the dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, um, are you okay?” He asks, uncertain, with a slice of bread in his left hand and a concerned frown on his face, even if it’s probably stupid, because he knows that Eddie is just tired but a part of him kind of wishes he could tell Eddie to stay home, take a day off, try to get some rest. Just a bit. He doesn’t like the idea of Eddie doing his job while profoundly sleep-deprived, but he won’t voice his concerns, he does not have a death wish. 

Eddie tilts his head to have a better look at him. His face is resting on his right hand, elbow digging into the hard kitchen table. “Yeah?” Unhelpfully he says. 

Buck chuckles. “Does that sound convincing to you?” 

“This is useless,” Eddie affirms, firmly but still pouting like a petulant child. Buck’s snort can’t be contained, even more so when Eddie tossed the ring around, making it spin on itself for a few seconds and then again. Maybe watching it spin will lull Eddie into a kind of hypnosis, enough for sleep to take over? Who knows.

“What does it say?”

“Prioritize recovery,” Eddie says in a mocking tone, as though this hellish app had a life and a voice of its own and Eddie were trying to mimic it cruelly. Then he scoffs and closes his eyes, dropping his face on one arm on the table.

Buck frowns, “Should we— uh, see a doctor? Maybe, maybe a sleep specialist? I read that’s a thing,” he offers. Even if Eddie will probably be mad at him for merely suggesting such a drastic move, Buck is a little worried about him at this point. 

To his surprise, Eddie’s expression vaguely… lights up. 

Huh? Weird. 

Buck is perplexed. Eddie’s heart, on the other hand, traitorously picks up an erratic pace. Buck wants to go to the doctor with him. Buck wants to help him so much that he includes himself when talking about the possibility of seeing a doctor for Eddie. And Eddie doesn’t want the warmth that is spreading in his chest to ever leave him. Does he know what this means? This tangled mess of emotions and affection and, weirdly, this feeling of… protection? Absolutely not. Does he know he wants to claw his nails into it and never let go? Absolutely. 

Also, did Buck research this? Did Buck really see that he was struggling with sleep and started reading articles online as he did with the whole Billy Boils thing? Eddie is assaulted by the sudden and unexpected urge to hug him tightly.

He doesn’t, because Buck approaches him like he would approach a new species of bug he is interested in, studying him with a quirked eyebrow. “Eddie?” 

“Oh, yeah, uh— sorry, I don’t think that’s… necessary, Buck. But,” Eddie pauses for a beat because all the weird stuff that’s now living in his chest is difficult to put into words, “thank you.”

Buck smiles and appears slightly more relaxed. “No need to thank me,” he reminds Eddie, all warm and caring.

Eddie keeps thinking that there’s so much he should thank Buck for. In this instance, for example, he is desperate to show his appreciation because Buck —whose eyes look particularly blue lately, Eddie doesn’t remember being so transfixed by them that he couldn’t focus on his best friend’s words— suspiciously fled the house to run an errand Eddie wasn’t aware of (what could possibly Buck have to do that Eddie doesn’t know about?) and now is back with two bags full of sleep teas for him.

“Buck?” He suspiciously eyes him from his place on the couch and Buck looks like he’s been caught doing something he really, really shouldn’t have been doing. 

“He— hey,” he has to clear his throat, walks over to Eddie, and deposits the bags on the coffee table. “Look.”

His cheeks are a bit rosy and Eddie wonders why he is suddenly drawn to him, all of him, but these cute cheeks in particular. Oh, since when did Buck’s cheeks become cute in his eyes? 

Buck sits on the table, so close that their knees touch and Eddie’s heart twists oddly in his chest. He wonders why. Their knees touch all the time in the engine, he doesn’t remember ever feeling like this. Oh— well, he did feel like this, once. When Buck woke up after the lightning put him in a coma and Eddie sat on his hospital bed, teasing him about defeating death over and over. 

Weird.

“I figured you need some concrete help, okay?” Buck sounds so serious and is trying to balance four boxes of different kinds of teas and Eddie can’t stop the laugh that spills out of him, so carefree, so light. So happy.

“Concrete?” He mocks Buck but then takes one of the boxes so Buck doesn’t have to juggle them anymore.

“Shut up,” the man says in faux indignation. “And look, here.”

“Chamomile? I already—” Eddie tries to interject, just to rile him up.

It may be his favorite activity.

“Eddie,” Buck seriously retracts the boxes, shielding them away from Eddie as if Eddie had tried to pry them away. “This is serious.”

Eddie holds back the snort and fondly listens. 

“This is chamomile tea, but,” Buck lifts a finger and Eddie simply knows he’s about to start a mini lecture of his. It’s happened before, plenty of times, but… but there’s something new brewing under the surface of Eddie’s sternum. Something that is increasingly making an appearance these days, particularly whenever Buck pays attention to him— which is so often, but that’s beside the point now. “It’s a new blend, Eddie.” 

“A new… blend? Of… chamomile?” Eddie asks with a quirked mouth and furrowed brows.

“Yes!” Buck excitedly smiles. “It’s supposed to be stronger,” he explains, and he’s super serious about it, so much so that that makes it funny. Eddie wills his lips to stay still. But then— then Buck starts gesticulating and “Like… the almighty chamomile tea,” he adds. And Eddie collapses in a fit of giggles.

“The,” Eddie laughs. “The almighty—” He’s wheezing by the time he manages to speak again from his place curled up on the couch, folded in half because of the laughter. “Chamomile—”

Buck’s downright offended look makes Eddie laugh even harder, so much that eventually he simply gives up and keeps going, without trying to speak. And Buck should really, absolutely be mad but Eddie looks so at ease, for once, that he can only be proud of himself for being the reason behind it. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, go on,” he gestures at Eddie with a box of tea in his right hand, faking indignation and resentment. Until Eddie is wiping tears off his eyes and Buck is sure he’d happily swallow him whole. Not his fault if Eddie is so cute. Sue him.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie lifts both hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry, I just—” He shuts up, afraid of losing control again. “Go on.”

Buck huffs, less like an annoyed grown-up and more like a cartoon character, and keeps explaining the benefits of these sleep teas to his best friend. 

Eddie, on his part, doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good since he came back to L.A. and Buck agreed to share the house, at least temporarily.

If he thinks about it, Eddie honestly doesn’t want Buck to leave. Living with Buck is cool, it’s— it’s like the… safest Eddie has ever felt. He knows that there’s someone who cares about him, who stands in his corner no matter what, and that he is under the same roof as his. And he can be himself around Buck, and Buck makes dull days a whole lot brighter, and his laundry days a lot less boring, and his breakfast so much better, almost… spiritual. Like a ritual that they share, like some kind of special intimacy that no one can take away from them. 

And maybe— no, definitely, Eddie has definitely spaced out, judging by Buck’s concerned furrow. “Eddie.”

“Sorry, sorry, yeah.”

“Yeah, what?”

“I just— got distracted?”

Buck huffs, eyeing him very, very suspiciously. But he mercifully lets go. “Okay, I’ll let slide that you’ve ignored my thorough explanation about all these special kinds of tea,” he gently teases, even if he is a bit worried, and Eddie smiles, “but, what I was saying is…”

Something in Eddie’s eyes must shift, because Buck cuts himself off, and gets up, clapping his hands on his knees. “You know what? I’m gonna make a cup,” he announces. 

Eddie fondly shakes his head, and sighing he sinks deeper into the couch cushions, patiently waiting for his best friend to come back with a cup of almighty chamomile.

The almighty chamomile, as predicted (by Eddie, in the privacy of his own brain— he’d never admit that to Buck), does not work. And neither does the valerian root. Nor the lemon and honey mixture that Buck carefully adds to the third special tea of the week. 

Eddie eventually buys a lavender spray, precisely after a shift during which Bobby of all people accuses him of not being clear-headed and alert enough. 

It does not work.

Nothing works and his ring keeps reminding him, every single day. He’d toss it away if only it hadn’t cost him so much money that he refuses to tell Buck its price. 

What kept you up?

Pay attention

Not looking good

When have things looked good for Eddie, he wonders. 

Then Buck gets hurt, because of course he does. It’s Buck. Eddie doesn’t believe in the universe but he’s more and more inclined to think that some higher power must hate Buck (and him, by extension). 

They were called to a skating center where a team of young hockey players was training and Buck slipped on the ice in an attempt to stop one of the boys from stumbling over someone else’s stick. How absurd is that for a hockey player? Eddie still can’t wrap his head around it.

And that brings them here, now, in Eddie’s living room, where Eddie is set on not letting Buck win this argument. 

“You dislocated your shoulder,” Eddie tells Buck, as if the man himself didn’t know, hands firmly planted on his hips in a stance that speaks volumes. Buck knows what’s about to happen already.

“Oh really?” 

Buck can’t stop himself. He snorts before thinking of the consequences. (The consequences being Eddie’s wrath.)

As predicted, he points a finger at Buck, getting into his space— very close, Buck appreciates— and almost spits his words out. “For the second time in less than a year, may I remind you.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Buck says to him, tilting his head because he can’t mirror Eddie’s dad stance (hands on hips, frown on his face) with one arm stuck in a sling. 

“Oh really?” Eddie mocks him, and Buck would just drop everything and kiss him. 

Buck pretends he doesn’t hear him. “You’re trying to rationalize this, but I won’t sleep in your bed.”

After hearing this sentence for the fourth time, Eddie huffs in annoyance and turns around. Then turns back to Buck for a better effect. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, I’m going to Maddie’s. So you take the bed.”

Buck’s neck will probably hurt for days with how fast he turns to look at his friend. Like— what?

What?

“What? Maddie? You? I should be going to Maddie’s!” Buck blurts out, without thinking, with no hesitation, because, seriously, what should Eddie be doing at his sister’s?

“No!” Eddie almost yells. “You know what you should be doing? You should be going to fucking bed!” 

They’re lucky Chris isn’t home. This is weird. Even for them.

“That is the only place you need to be,” Eddie breathes out, calmer.

Buck refrains from smirking but he’s only human, and Buck 1.0 is still him. It’s just always Buck, after all. All of those versions, still him. And he is in love with the man, okay? “So my place is in your bed?” He seductively wiggles his eyebrows, and Eddie wants to slap him. Why can’t he be serious? Why is this suggestion making his stomach tingle? Why is there warmth pooling at the base of his spine?

“I swear to—” he starts, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay— okay, fine. Fine.” Buck lifts his good hand, placatingly. 

He sees the fight immediately leave Eddie’s body. His stance relaxes and his eyes soften. But then… he grabs Eddie’s wrist and drags him towards the bedroom.

“What?”

“We’re sharing. Shut up.”

And Eddie is red all over, again. “No! What? What part of resting don’t you get?”

He’s so lost in his spluttering that he doesn’t notice Buck trying to open a velcro strap, his sling velcro strap. Eddie is going to kill him. 

He was so worried when he saw Buck drop on the ice like dead weight, so worried when he heard his scream, and all the time he had to sit by his bed in the hospital. Even if it was never anything life-threatening, Eddie hates it when Buck is in pain. At least there was no Tommy this time. Fuck him— he hates that man. 

“If you do that, I’m killing you,” he slowly says to Buck. “Consider yourself warned.”

Buck wants to laugh at the way Eddie is always ready to point a finger at him but genuinely thinks his friend would cause him some little harm if he started acting like a brat so he pushes down the discomfort of being stuck in the sling and sits on the bed, ready for their bedtime routines. 

Buck, that night, doesn’t sleep a wink, but is so, so content. 

He can’t truly sleep, rest, because he’s in bed with the man he’s in love with. He’s shared a bed with Eddie before, but he’s never been aware of his feelings before. So he is overly cautious about every single move of his, paying attention to his breathing, the way he can feel heat radiating off Eddie. And let’s say that his fucked up shoulder isn’t helping his case. But he is so content, genuinely elated, because Eddie is sleeping. 

Eddie is really sleeping, on his side— Buck is so glad that he is facing him, so he can stare— with one hand between his cheek and the pillow and the other one extended toward Buck. It briefly reminds Buck of the way Eddie was trying to reach out to him after the shooting but then he decides to focus on much happier memories. 

Eddie’s features are relaxed, his mouth is slightly parted, releasing small puffs of breath. Buck knows he doesn’t snore, but he can’t help but think that these little noises are so cute he would bottle them. He’s so endeared that it’s concerning. He yearns to touch. To drag his fingers over Eddie’s nose, his Cupid’s bow, his eyebrows, and his cheekbones. And his lips— don’t get Buck started on Eddie’s lips (Ravi made that mistake one, it was an accident— he doesn’t think about Eddie’s lips unlike Buck— and it won’t ever happen again). Buck is dying to touch them, kiss them. 

He smiles to himself, thinks that for once, Eddie’s sleep score on the Oura app will be good. And that’s how he falls asleep himself.

Eddie looks at his phone screen utterly bewildered.

He’s still in bed and Buck is peacefully asleep. His face twitches slightly from time to time because of the pain Eddie is sure he’s feeling in his shoulder but other than that, he looks pretty relaxed, content even and Eddie is even more shocked when his chest tightens with the need to touch him, to feel his warmth. It’s never happened before. Much like the fact that he has apparently slept through the whole night. A full night of sleep, no interruptions, no tossing and turning.

It’s a goddamn miracle. 

And the ring app— Wow. Just, wow. “Optimal” it says. Ninety-seven. He’s never gotten more than fifty-five. And now there’s even a little crown next to the score. He got a crown!

He has to tell Buck.

Buck is so proud of Eddie when they wake up that he doesn’t even notice the sharp pain that jolts through his shoulder. Painkillers might be his favorite thing in the world. Next to Eddie’s eyes. Definitely.

He is less than happy when the night comes and Eddie gets him to sleep in the bed again. He doesn’t want to hear it. He said he would pick Buck up and put him into the bed himself if it came to that and Buck didn’t want to fight him, so here he is, in Eddie’s bed, waiting for Eddie to get ready to sleep. Because if there’s one thing Buck is incredibly good at, it is getting Eddie to do whatever he wants— which goes both ways but Buck won’t admit that— so he got Eddie to share again.

And it’s okay, it’s good. Everything is fine, really. Eddie’s sleep score improves significantly night after night, and they even have a nighttime routine that involves sipping one of Buck’s sleep teas with their backs against the headboard, discussing the day, whenever they are not at the station. Otherwise, they sit on the loft couch and talk about the calls and the things to do in the morning (hoping to get an uninterrupted, call-less sleep) and let the tea warmth wash over them. 

Eddie loves it. He loves that he can sleep again, that he wakes up and feels fully rested, not like a lithium battery approaching its life’s end. But what he loves more than anything is the fact that he is sharing the bed with Buck. He sleeps with his best friend and thinks that it’s fantastic.

The last time he’s ever shared a bed with someone, it was Shannon and it was never this relaxing, maybe because of all the problems they had. And he was so sure he’d never feel comfortable doing that with anyone ever again, but then Buck came along. 

What they are doing now is a lot different from what they did in the past. They have shared before but it has always been out of necessity, something that happened because they didn’t have any other option. 

Now, Eddie wakes up and finds Buck has crawled into him during the night, wakes up and sees that somehow, his nose is buried in Buck’s unruly curls— they are so soft that Eddie wants to cry sometimes. Buck literally cuddles him in his sleep but Eddie found out that whenever he is more tired than usual, he tends to be the one to seek Buck’s warmth during the night. He is drawn to his best friend’s body like it’s inevitable that he’ll end up there, and whenever he wakes up before Buck, he unashamedly nuzzles him, wherever he can reach. 

Buck is so warm and Eddie loves that he trusts him so much that his body relaxes fully, recharges as though it got all the permission to let its guard down, as if Eddie felt so safe and protected. It makes Eddie’s heart lurch behind his ribcage.

Then, approximately three weeks later, made of comfortable, unintentional (and not so unintentional) sleepy cuddles with Buck and perfect Oura sleep scores, Eddie is faced with a harsh reality. 

It’s Christopher who starts it all.

He tells Eddie that he looks more rested, more relaxed, that he looks just… comfortable— if that’s a thing—, not so much like a zombie anymore, to quote his own words. 

And Eddie thinks. He thinks, thinks, thinks. He wracks his brain. And he comes up with only one plausible explanation: Buck has been drugging him.

An icy, sharp feeling of betrayal and panic crawls through his whole body, attacking him like an Alaska-level of cold.  

He has to talk to someone before confronting Buck. And that someone can’t be his son.

He goes to Bobby.

He can’t go to Maddie, and Bobby is the person he trusts the most besides Buck.

“Eddie?” His captain is surprised to see him. It’s their day off and the man was sure Eddie would be spending his time with Buck, maybe both him and Christopher. Not knocking on his door.

“Cap? Can I come in?”

Bobby sees the brewing panic in his firefighter’s eyes and wonders for a moment if he should start to really worry. “Of course. Something happened?” Carefully he asks.

Eddie takes a deep breath before sitting at Bobby’s kitchen table. “This is a… sensitive topic?” He winces, not trusting his own brain.

Bobby is more and more confused by the second. “Okay… tell me.”

“I think Buck has been drugging me,” Eddie says in one breath, hands clasped on the table in front of him, lips pressed in a thin line.

Bobby’s brows graze his hairline. “Buck…” he pauses for a second because he can’t quite believe he heard Eddie right. “Is… drugging you?” 

His face is twisted funnily— this can’t be his life, God. But Eddie looks so serious. So concerned. 

“Buck? Evan Buckley?” So he tries again, to make sure they’re talking about the same person. And Eddie nods— his expression the picture of despair.

The captain takes a breath, takes a moment to get his thoughts under control. “Okay, why do you think he’s been drugging you?” He decides to ask. There must be a reason, a valid reason.

Eddie is looking everywhere except in Bobby’s face, gulps once, twice, before sighing and accepting his fate: he’ll have to explain everything.

“Okay, I— I had— it was impossible for me to fall asleep, right?” He mournfully murmurs. “And eventually I bought the ring.”

Bobby knows about the Oura ring so he won’t have to discuss that too, at least. 

The man nods understandingly so Eddie slowly continues.

“Then Buck bought, like— all kinds of sleep tea known to man, I think? He just came home with six, seven different kinds of teas and… remember when he dislocated his shoulder?” Eddie is now looking at Bobby, palm open and up towards him as though Bobby could put in his hand an answer to his internal turmoil. 

“Yeah, a month ago more or less…”

“Yeah, ever since, I’ve been sleeping through the whole night!” Eddie whisper-shouts, leaning forward, as if he and Bobby weren’t the only ones in the house or his sleeping habits were something highly confidential. 

Bobby simply blinks, waiting for the rest of the story because he has absolutely no clue how to respond. But Eddie waits for a comment apparently, since he momentarily stops talking.

“Okay, Eddie. How would he be drugging you?”

Also, what does Buck’s dislocated shoulder have to do with this? Bobby wonders if he’s dreaming. 

“You know when we drink our teas at night, he’s always the one who brings them to bed, so I’m sure he must be putting something in mine before coming to bed!” 

Eddie sounds exasperated and nervous and a bit betrayed but Bobby is too busy processing the last thirty seconds. Buck and Eddie are… sleeping in the same bed apparently. Okay. That’s— okay. Well, Bobby doesn’t know why that surprises him, but the knowledge that—

“Cap?”

“Oh, sorry. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie lifts a brow. “Okay?” 

“I mean, you sleep together?” 

The horrified look on Eddie’s face tells Bobby that he completely misunderstood. “I mean, in the same bed, Eddie.”

Eddie’s cheeks go flaming red in two seconds flat. “Ah, no. I mean,” he starts fidgeting with the short hair at the back of his head, trying to find a way to bolt out of this house. He can talk about Buck drugging him with someone else. 

“Yeah, we’ve been sharing the bed since he dislocated his shoulder. I couldn’t let him sleep on the couch, Cap! I even offered to go to Maddie’s but he—”

Bobby cuts off his agitated rant with a shocked gasp. “Why would you go to Maddie’s?”

“Why are you all saying that?” Eddie indignantly asks, but it’s more rhetorical than anything because he keeps talking. Bobby’s expression screams oh, I really wonder why.

“Anyway, he said he’d only sleep in the bed if we shared and…” he gesticulates around, a bit frantic, “you know the rest.”

Okay. Bobby can do this. He definitely can help Eddie and will help Eddie. He is just… a bit bewildered.

He hums, soft and sympathetic.

“Isn’t it possible that it’s just…” 

God, Bobby really doesn’t know how to do this. Huffing, he finds the strength to go on. 

“It’s just Buck?”

Eddie pulls a face, seems to think of it, then shakes his head. But the captain doesn’t let him reply. “Maybe it’s Buck sleeping with you that helps you? Not the bedtime tea?” He frames that as a question because he can’t tell the man how he feels.

“I’m not lonely, I don’t need to cuddle someone to sleep,” Eddie scowls defensively and Bobby can’t help the little smile that tugs at his lips. 

“Not someone, Eddie. Buck.” 

The look of raised eyebrows from Bobby tells Eddie everything, gives it all away. 

Oh. Buck.

Oh.

“Oh, Buck…” he breathes out softly. “Buck,” he repeats. 

And then he pulls away slightly, even if he’s still at Bobby’s table, trying to put distance between himself and the biggest truth of his existence. He swallows and swallows, as though there were a tennis ball-sized lump in his throat, blocking the air from reaching his lungs. “Buck,” he whispers, so softly that Bobby might not have heard him, hadn’t they been so close.

Bobby wonders if he officially broke Eddie Diaz. It’d be fun to explain to the chief. Yeah, boss, I accidentally broke one of my men…

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

Eddie’s eyes snap open. When has he closed them? He doesn’t know. All Eddie knows is that he has figured out a lifetime's worth of trials and tribulations in ten seconds flat, thanks to his Captain. And now, he doesn’t know how to function properly anymore. How do you keep acting like a normal human being after finding out you are in love with the most important person in your life? 

“Fuck,” eventually he says. Then proceeds to hide his mouth behind a hand as if Bobby were his dad and he were seven years old. 

“Sorry.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck is not drugging me, Cap.”

Bobby ducks his head trying to catch the other man’s eyes. “Glad we’ve established that,” he tells him carefully, while a soft but teasing smirk slowly creeps up his face.

“This is not funny,” Eddie immediately retorts, pouting, whining, like any five-year-old who’s not getting their way would. 

Bobby huffs out a tiny laugh. “A bit funny,” murmurs. 

“Fine,” Eddie concedes. “But just a bit, though.”

“I’m panicking,” then he adds, attempting to dry the sweat off his hands by stroking his jeans. 

“Oh, thought you didn’t.”

“Cap!”

“Sorry, sorry. We’re not on shift, I’m having fun.”

Eddie glares at him, hoping to seem threatening and offended (he doesn’t). “Not funny. What do I do now?”

However, as Bobby is about to talk, Eddie’s phone rings. 

It’s Buck.

“Oh God, it’s him.”

“Answer,” Bobby unhelpfully suggests.

Eddie snaps. “Yeah, I’m gonna just— say what? Hey Buck, you know I love you?”

His cheeks turn so red that anyone would be worried about his health, but when the phone simply doesn’t stop ringing, he has to answer.

“Eddie.” Buck’s breath sounds labored.

“What are you doing?” 

“I couldn’t find you,” Buck stupidly says.

Eddie’s insides turn to goo. He’s going to become a puddle of sugar and syrup. But he also feels guilty for fleeing the house without saying anything, leaving a confused Buck behind.

“Sorry, I’m at the grocery store,” he mutters in a panic. 

He once was Eddie Diaz, who didn’t panic. Then Evan Buckley came along. Let’s go. He loves this life. (He does, he really does. It’s just that— well…)

Bobby’s left brow starts its journey toward the sky, silently asking what the hell he is doing. Eddie shrugs. He has no idea.

“The gr— Why?” Buck says, fairly bewildered.

“We ran out of milk.”

“I am drinking the milk,” Buck retorts one millisecond later.

“Well, see? One more valid reason to buy some more. See you later, Buck!” 

Eddie has to hang up. He doesn’t have any other choice.

“Eddie…” Bobby sighs, exasperated by his sudden appearance and revelation. 

“Am I gay?” Eddie blurts out, completely unaware of his captain’s (affectionate) discomfort.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m gonna—” he points at the door with a thumb, and stands up.

“Are you okay to drive?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, several reasons?”

Eddie nods. Or shakes his head. What is he doing? He doesn’t know. 

“Thanks Cap,” he says; then, as if he were listing things to buy at the grocery store, pauses in front of the door and says “Buck isn’t drugging me, I’m in love with him, we don’t know if I’m gay.”

Bobby stays seated at his kitchen table for so long that his legs start to cramp. What the hell has just happened?

Eddie spends one hour and twenty-five minutes in the backseat of his car (it’s more comfortable than sitting in the driver’s seat, and he has to think, he needs time and peace) reminiscing about the last seven, eight years of his life. 

Buck is frighteningly at the core of every single memory of his. Every single one of them. Whether Eddie has been happy, anxious, nervous, angry, sad, or ecstatic, Buck has been there. 

By the time he has accepted that his best friend is also the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, Eddie is not taken aback at the intensity of his feelings, but rather than at the time it has taken him to realize. 

He texts Buck, pretending to be at Pepa’s house because he can’t face him and freak out. He’ll freak out on his own so he’ll be able to face Buck in a few hours. 

That’s a totally feasible, normal plan. Which, obviously, goes downhill as soon as he finds himself face-to-face with Buck, later that day. 

Buck is too soft for Eddie’s own good. 

How has he never noticed? How has Eddie not noticed before that Buck is what makes him feel safe and at ease and at fucking peace with the world and himself and his demons? 

“Hey, Eds,” Buck breathes out softly.

Softsoftsoft, BuckBuckBuck is all Eddie’s brain can process. 

Eds. 

Fuck.

How cute is that? Why is Buck giving him a nickname for his nickname? He has to kiss him now.

“He—hey,” he chokes on his own spit somewhere between the syllables of this single, stupid word, but Buck’s lips are so kissable and he’s glad he took the time to freak out in private because now— God, now he has to find a way to stay as still as humanly possible to salvage the most important adult relationship of his life.

“You okay?” Buck, as predictable, asks, frowning, and Eddie feels a jolt of panic because he really has no idea how to handle this whole thing. How to handle the knowledge that his best friend is the love of his fucking life. 

But maybe, maybe the universe— the thing Buck believes so fiercely in— is looking out for him for once, because Buck’s phone rings, and it’s Maddie, and she’s asking if he can babysit baby Bobby for the afternoon because she has to cover a shift for a colleague at dispatch. 

So it just takes ten minutes and Eddie finds himself blissfully alone. 

Maybe Eddie is just going to vomit. Or not. Maybe he’ll save it for the moment he’ll have to share a bed with Buck. You know, the love of his life and all that.

Eddie is fidgeting with his ring by the time Buck comes to bed holding the mugs with their bedtime tea. He goes rigid as soon as Buck gets under the covers and hands him his tea. His entire back is stone cold and he’s hyper aware of every single movement of theirs. 

“You’ve been weird,” Buck mutters hiding his lips behind the mug. Slowly taking a sip, he gives Eddie some time to get his thoughts in order. 

“Weird?” Eddie unhelpfully retorts.

“Yep.”

Eddie is religiously looking straight ahead, doing his best not to cross Buck’s eyes. His palms are sweating against the hot ceramic of his mug. He hates his life. 

He hates that he doesn’t realize he is halfway through a panic attack when Buck gently pries the tea away from his hands. 

“What?” He thinks he asks, but his throat feels scratchy and he struggles to breathe.

Buck leans over to gently—ever so gently— drag him into a sideways hug. And Eddie stops breathing altogether.

“Eddie, come on. What’s wrong?” Buck adds, and it’s barely a whisper and it’s barely a hug but then Buck tightens his hold and Eddie almost crumples under his weight. Because Buck is worried and Eddie doesn’t know how to get out of this predicament, one he put himself into. 

“I’m—” he gulps, nodding. “Okay. Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Yeah. Sure, cool,” Buck sarcastically snorts, but he doesn’t pressure Eddie. Instead, he starts to move downward, under the covers, awkwardly bringing Eddie with him, in this new position that is so new and the closest thing to a cuddle that they’ve ever shared. 

Are they cuddling? Oh, God. Eddie has to get out of this bed, maybe leave the house. Leave the country, not just the state. Maybe he can get someone from NASA to shoot him on Mars and call it a day.

“I can go back to the couch if this is… making you uncomfortable,” then Buck mumbles, like he doesn’t mean it at all but he would do it in a heartbeat for Eddie and Eddie’s stomach clenches on itself, because— how can Buck not see that this is all Eddie has ever wanted? How can Buck not realize that having him near is all Eddie needs to simply exist and breathe easily? 

“You are not drugging me, I know,” somehow is what Eddie ends up blurting out, and to say that it confuses Buck is an understatement. 

“What?” He squeaks and Eddie would laugh if only he didn’t feel like he’s standing on the verge of a precipice. 

Buck is confused, Eddie doesn’t need to see him to know that but his face is squished against Buck’s sturdy chest and he feels so good, especially in light of his recent realization, and he needs comfort, because he’s about to do something insane, so there’s nothing that could make him move. 

He slowly puts one hand between his body and Buck’s belly, unsure whether touching him would be a welcome gesture. Buck’s heart notices, however. It skips a beat or two— Eddie hears it.

“Can I… tell you something?” He starts with and he gets warm all over when all Buck says is “you can tell me anything…”

He’s sure he’s flushed down to the chest.

“I’m scared.” 

Buck weighs his words, takes in the position they are in, and the weight of his best friend kind of plastered against his side, head on his chest— hair tickling his neck. 

“You are scared,” he slowly repeats and feels Eddie nod. 

“Okay. Of what?” 

They are not really whispering but their voices would barely be audible if they weren’t this close. Eddie shudders with anticipation.

“I found out that I’m in love,” Eddie says under his breath, so faint that he would question whether Buck heard him if only Buck’s heart hadn’t started wildly galloping under Eddie’s ear.

“Y-you found out,” Buck blinks more than necessary, as if that could help him process that all of his dreams have been shattered in less than a second. “That you’re in love.”

Truth be told, Buck has never really believed he had a chance with Eddie, but God has he hoped. 

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, Buck doesn’t know how many seconds later. All he knows is that the silence is thick around them and it’s becoming suffocating. 

“Buck?”

Great. He must have been silent for too long. Then something sparks in his brain— it’s so weird, he hates it. “Why should I be drugging you?” 

He sounds almost offended and Eddie probably would too, but he can’t help but be endeared anyway. At least a little bit.

“I don’t know if I’m gay, though,” however he replies, as if that made sense. 

Buck’s brain screeches to a halt.  It evolves into a sequence of Eddie, gay, Eddie, gay, Eddie, gay.

Eddie, on the other hand, sounds like he’s listing things to buy at the grocery store, completely unaware that he’s altering his brain chemistry. 

“E—Eddie, what—” what the fuck, what the hell, what are you saying, holy shit, fucking hell, “do you mean?” 

Closing his eyes, Eddie takes drastic action and in one swift motion, he abruptly leaves the bed, leaving a bewildered, shocked Buck behind. Then, he proceeds to lock himself in the bathroom.

Buck takes approximately ten seconds to recover and process what the actual fuck is going on. As soon as he gets with the program, he finds himself outside the bathroom door, banging on it desperately. “Eddie. Eddie, come on, open this door!”

He is so confused, completely out of his depth here, because Eddie is usually the calm and collected one, Eddie always knows what to do and what to say, and now Eddie clearly needs him, and Buck has to be there for him despite his heart being crushed, shattering under the knowledge that Eddie is in love with someone who isn’t him. 

“Eddie, man, what—” he sighs, briefly thinking that they’re grown men in their thirties and are sitting around a door because talking about feelings is scarier than walking through fire, apparently.

“Sorry,” Eddie says through the door, leaning against it heavily. He closes his eyes, bracing for the hell that will inevitably break loose. 

Buck frowns. “Sorry? Sorry for what?” 

“And— wait, why— uh, why are you locked in the bathroom?” 

He uselessly knocks on the door twice more, then settles on the floor, back against the cold wood.

And Eddie doesn't want to do this, and, above everything, he doesn't want to do it like this, but he’s never claimed to be brave— maybe he faked it all along, the army, the firefighting, the single parenting, he’s not brave. 

“It’s you,” he slurs, half hoping Buck doesn’t catch that, half hoping Buck kicks the door down to kiss him. 

Buck doesn’t understand, as predicted. “What?”

“It’s you!” Eddie says more clearly. 

“Oh,” Buck mumbles under his breath. Swallowing almost manically, he thinks that there must be some misunderstanding occurring. 

“What? Sorry, could you, uh, get out of there? I don’t understand,” he pleads. Then, he whisper-shouts “it’s okay, come on, we’re always okay.” And Eddie feels his resolve crumble, his heart roar. They’ll always have this, he supposes. 

However, once he opens the door and finds himself face-to-face with Buck, he makes sure to beg him—  for everything maybe.

“Promise me that,” he gulps, air suddenly a foreign concept for his lungs, “nothing will change us.” 

He also mentally smacks himself because, us? Seriously? Us? There’s no us, there’s no them. But Buck, sweet, kindhearted Buck, just smiles carefully and nods. 

“Of course, Eddie, come on, you know that.”

Eddie shakes his head. To be honest, after the day he’s had and all the revelations that he had to wade through, he’s not sure he knows anything.

“It’s you! What didn’t you get?” He says, exasperated. 

His eyes are pleading, shining with fear. And Buck thinks he’s going to have a heart attack, because this can’t be happening. There’s no way this is not a huge, not funny misunderstanding.

“Me? What did I do?” He goes with, mentally berating himself. 

Eddie’s brown eyes are huge and desperately trying to make him understand without having to use words. 

“You make me sleep.”

Well, that’s a good start, isn’t it? 

“You’re not drugging me,” he adds, as if that would clear things up. 

He’s doing great, isn’t he? Yeah, he’s shaking but it’s fine. Buck’s eyes look like they’re bulging out of his head but it’s fine.

Buck looks like he’s about to interject but Eddie resolutely goes on. 

“You make me feel safe, you know? And—” he closes his eyes, squeezes them shut. “I love you for that.”

There’s a pause, poignant silence, looming panic washing over Eddie. 

“Oh, that’s—” Buck murmurs, more to himself. Then cuts himself off, then turns Eddie’s world upside down. “I love you too,” he says. 

Simple. Easy. As normal as breathing. Just like that. As though Eddie were born to be loved and that weren’t a hardship at all. As if Buck woke up one day, and started loving Eddie with no reservations. Uncontrollably, unconditionally. 

“Me? You love me?” Eddie says, unbelieving and self-deprecatingly, “Are you sure you understand what I mean? Buck,” he pleads. And Buck smiles, drags a hand upward until he is cupping his best friend’s cheek. It’s trembling. Buck’s whole body is trembling. Except for his smile. That is growing, and blinding, beautiful. He’s beaming, lighting up as if he had the most precious treasure in front of him, and Eddie can’t fathom being the reason behind all that.

“You,” Buck confirms, leaning forward. So slowly that he gives Eddie all the time to move away, so slowly that Eddie is sure his heart will go into arrest. 

“Eddie Diaz, you know him?” Buck teases, a mischievous glint in his eyes that Eddie wants to live in. 

He doesn’t want to but his mouth breaks into a grin. He couldn’t contain himself if he tried his hardest.

He rolls his eyes, bumps their noses together, mind still reeling from the information that maybe Buck loves him back, that— for reasons unknown— Buck doesn’t think he’s an unlovable piece of— 

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud “mwah!”.

It’s Buck who kisses his cheek, the one his hand isn’t resting on. 

Eddie wants to burst into flames, maybe scream and then throw up. His stomach is twisting a little. He can’t help but laugh loudly. Nobody has ever kissed him so cheekily, so loudly.

The truth is that no one has loved him so loudly. And in response, he decides to wrap his arms around Buck’s waist, nuzzling his neck. 

“I love you, so much,” Buck finally says, and it’s liberating, freeing, exhilarating to be able to finally say it, not having to hold back. He can love, can love this precious man openly and unconditionally, and wants to do it for the rest of his life.

Maybe Eddie doesn’t, maybe he does, judging by the way he pulls away to attack his lips with his own mouth. 

Buck unwillingly lets out a shocked mmph when his mouth collides with Eddie’s. A sense of longing, yearning washes over him, and he remembers that he has to move, that he can respond. His hands immediately cradle Eddie’s face, then move to Eddie’s hair, smoothing a soft strand away from his forehead. God, he loves him. So much it hurts. So much so that his whole body is burning with it. 

Their lips slide against each other so perfectly, as if they were made for that, they were kind of destined to it. Maybe they’ve always been inevitable, this is all they were put on this planet to do, to be. In love with each other.

“E— Eddie,” Buck gasps between kisses, before turning things into a heated mess, making out shamelessly, grinding their hips together when Buck pushes Eddie against the bedroom wall. Before Eddie surges forward and leads Buck to sit on the bed, before straddling him and diving back in to kiss him some more.

“Wait,” Buck quietly blurts out, when they’ve both calmed down and they’re just existing together, slumped against one another on the bed, with Eddie splayed over Buck’s torso completely, unashamedly. 

“Why did you think I was drugging you?” 

Eddie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. 

This is very, very embarrassing. 

“You don’t think I’ve— like, drugged you into loving me?” Buck adds, sounding confused and pensive, so serious that Eddie laughs softly before pushing himself up to kiss him once more. Just a peck. 

“You’ve loved me into loving you,” he says against Buck’s lips. 

Buck whines, literally whimpering under Eddie’s weight. “You can’t say shit like this.”

“I can and I will.” Eddie smugly says.

“But— don’t distract me. Tell me about the drug thing, Edmundo,” Buck teasingly retorts. 

If the rest of his life looked like this, he’d die the happiest man on Earth.

“Don’t you dare, Evan.”

Eddie’s fake glare is so funny and Buck is so in love that that Evan rolling off Eddie’s tongue heals things in him. 

Buck only lifts his brow as if to say Okay, go on now. And Eddie complies.

“We started drinking those sleep teas when you fucked up your shoulder, remember?” He explains and Buck nods.

“And that was also when we started sleeping together.”

Buck wiggles his brows, suggestively, and “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, baby,” says teasingly, to which Eddie responds with a teasing slap to his chest.

“Could you be serious?” He whispers-shouts through brilliant red cheeks and then keeps talking while Buck simply grins at him with a dopey, lovesick, soft expression.

“I started sleeping, like actually sleeping! And the scores on the ring app were so good, and I felt so… rested every time I woke up. So I thought… maybe he took pity on me and put something in the tea?” 

Buck hates himself for that but he can’t stop. He bursts out laughing, and he knows that Eddie will glare at him and pretend to be offended so he hugs him and manhandles him until Eddie is completely under him, and he’s covering him with his weight. 

He kisses Eddie’s chest twice, before kissing his neck and finally reaching his lips. 

“It was just… you,” Eddie eventually whispers against his lips, and Buck doesn’t have the heart to tease him. 

After all, he loves him so much it’s ridiculous.

“Then keep up the good work, Eddie!” He jokingly tells the other man. 

“Now you sound like my stupid ring,” Eddie protests. He’s going to get rid of it.

Buck, still on top of him, settles in a more comfortable position, with one leg between Eddie’s and his chin resting on Eddie’s chest to look at him. He takes Eddie’s left hand and starts fidgeting with the ring. 

“‘S not stupid,” he sleepily mumbles. 

Eddie smiles, grinning a bit like a madman. “It is, I’ll get rid of it.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. “Of course you will.”

“But you know… You could put another one on this finger…” 

Buck’s heart comes to a halt, so violently that he’s sure for a beat or two his brain was oxygen-deprived. 

“This finger” is Eddie’s ring finger and— no, he can’t mean that. He can’t be serious. He didn’t even know he liked men until this morning. Buck can’t get his hopes up. He stays still. 

And he must be silent for too long because a fake, forced smile appears on Eddie's face while he says, “I’m kidding, Buck, don’t worry.”

But Buck is not! Buck is not kidding. Buck would put a ring on that finger tomorrow. 

“No! No! You can’t take it back now. That’s my finger now.”

Well, that came out wrong but Eddie is laughing so it’s good. Great. His life is fantastic.

“Your finger?”

“To put a ring on, I mean. Yes.”

Eddie’s teasing grin turns into something syrupy soft. “I know.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Buck nods, kisses his chin, and then rests his curly head on his chest. 

Tonight, he’ll be the one wrapped around his best friend. The love of his life.

”Sleep, then. I’ll get a ring in the morning.”

Eddie falls asleep with a smile on his face and the best kind of weight on his chest.