Work Text:
Evan Buckley develops the little spoon problem on a Tuesday.
Which is deeply inconvenient.
Mostly because he has absolutely no idea when it started.
He's halfway through eating cereal straight from the box after a twenty-four-hour shift when his phone serves him a video of a couple arguing over who gets to be the little spoon.
"No, seriously," the guy says, laughing as his girlfriend elbows him. "We've compromised. We take turns."
"He's lying," she tells the camera. "He steals little spoon privileges whenever he's had a bad day."
"Because being the little spoon is elite."
"You're six foot two!"
"And?"
Buck snorts.
"Good for you, man."
He goes to scroll.
Instead, his thumb hesitates.
...Take turns?
He frowns.
Take turns.
His brain starts doing something it really shouldn't be doing after a twenty-four-hour shift.
Abby.
Big spoon.
Ali.
Big spoon.
Taylor.
Definitely big spoon.
Natalia.
Also big spoon.
He blinks.
"...Huh."
He sets the cereal box down.
That...
That was kind of weird, right?
Not bad.
Not a complaint.
Just...
Interesting.
He'd dated four women.
Had shared countless beds, couches, lazy Sunday mornings and movie nights.
Every single time he'd ended up with his arm around someone else.
He tries harder.
Maybe there was one time...
No.
Abby always curled backwards until she fit perfectly against his chest.
Ali liked falling asleep holding Buck's hand while he wrapped himself around her.
Taylor would practically reverse park herself into his arms the second she got comfortable.
Natalia had once called him—
Buck actually laughs out loud.
"A human weighted blanket."
Right.
She'd called him a human weighted blanket.
He'd thought it was cute.
He still thought it was cute.
So why...
Why was he suddenly sitting in his kitchen wondering what it felt like to be on the other side?
"This is ridiculous."
It was spooning.
Not an existential crisis.
He finished his cereal, brushed his teeth, went to bed and fully expected to wake up having forgotten the whole thing.
He did not.
---
By Thursday it had become... research.
Not because he cared.
Obviously.
He was just curious.
Purely scientific.
Which was why he was lying in bed at one in the morning Googling:
Can tall people be the little spoon?
Apparently yes.
Who decides who's the little spoon?
Apparently couples just... decide.
Or don't.
Or switch.
Buck frowned.
Switch?
People actually...
Switched?
He clicked another article.
"Many couples alternate depending on who needs comfort that day."
Comfort.
He clicked again.
"Being the little spoon often creates feelings of safety, security and being cared for."
Buck read the sentence three times.
Then once more.
Being cared for.
His phone suddenly felt very heavy in his hand.
Because...
He couldn't actually imagine it.
Not really.
He knew exactly what it felt like to make someone else feel safe.
He'd done it his whole life.
Victims on calls.
Christopher after nightmares.
Friends after bad days.
Partners after difficult weeks.
But someone doing that for him?
His mind came up completely blank.
He locked his phone.
"Nope."
He wasn't doing this.
He was absolutely not spiralling over cuddle positions.
---
"So."
Buck looked up from cleaning equipment.
Chimney was grinning.
Never a good sign.
"So...?" Buck repeated cautiously.
"Question."
"No."
"You don't even know what it is."
"I know your face."
Hen looked up from inventory, immediately interested.
"Oh, this should be good."
Chim leaned casually against the engine.
"Big spoon or little spoon?"
Buck froze.
"...What?"
"Humour me."
Buck narrowed his eyes.
"What brought this on?"
"I saw a thing online."
Buck felt his stomach drop.
No.
Surely not.
"What thing?"
"A debate."
Hen was already smiling.
"Oh, I saw that!"
Buck looked between them.
"You both saw it?"
"It was everywhere," Hen said.
"So?" Chim asked. "Big spoon or little spoon?"
Buck shrugged.
"Big spoon, I guess."
"I knew it!" Chim pointed triumphantly at Hen.
"I told you!"
Hen sighed dramatically before digging into her pocket.
She handed Chim a five-pound note.
"I hate losing bets."
Buck blinked.
"...You bet on my cuddle preferences?"
"We absolutely did," Chim said proudly.
Buck stared.
"I work with children."
"You love us."
"I tolerate you."
Chim ignored him.
"So..."
Buck should have stopped talking.
He knows that.
Years later, he'll still blame exhaustion.
Because instead of letting the conversation die, he hears himself say,
"I've actually never been the little spoon."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Ravi slowly lowered the wrench he'd been holding.
Hen blinked.
Chim stared.
"What?"
Buck instantly regretted every decision that had led him to this moment.
"I don't know why I said that."
"You've never...?" Ravi asked.
Buck shrugged awkwardly.
"I've just always been the big spoon."
Chim burst into laughter.
Not a little laugh.
A full-body, doubled-over, can't-breathe laugh.
"Oh my God."
Buck closed his eyes.
"I'm going home."
"You live here for another eight hours!" Hen called after him.
Buck buried his face in his hands.
"This is officially the worst conversation I've ever had."
"Oh, no," Chim wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes.
"This is officially the best conversation we've ever had."
Buck groaned.
He had a horrible feeling he was never going to hear the end of this.
Unfortunately...
He was right.
From the doorway of the bay, Eddie looked up from checking the engine.
He'd only caught the last few seconds.
Buck standing there, red-faced.
Chimney laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
Hen trying—and failing—not to join in.
"What'd I miss?" Eddie asked.
Buck pointed a warning finger at every single person in the room.
"Don't."
Chim grinned.
"Buck's having a little spoon crisis."
Buck groaned so loudly it echoed through the station.
"I hate every single one of you."
Eddie laughed automatically.
"A little spoon crisis?"
Buck looked at him with the expression of a man who had already suffered enough.
"Please don't make me explain."
Eddie was still smiling.
He had no idea that, beneath Buck's embarrassment, there was a question that wasn't funny at all.
A question Buck couldn't seem to stop asking himself.
Why had nobody ever wanted to hold him instead?
Buck discovers exactly how committed the 118 are to a joke approximately twelve minutes later.
"Hey, Buck?"
He doesn't even look up from coiling a hose.
"No."
"I didn't ask anything."
"You were going to."
"I was."
Buck sighs.
"What, Chim?"
"If Eddie's the little spoon—"
"I'm not—"
"—does that make him the Eddle Spoon?"
There is a beat of complete silence.
Hen pinches the bridge of her nose.
"...That was terrible."
"It was brilliant."
"It was objectively one of the worst things you've ever said."
"I've said worse."
"You absolutely have."
Buck shakes his head.
"I can't believe I work here."
"You love us."
"I've heard that one already."
---
The calls don't stop just because Buck has accidentally revealed the strangest fact anyone at the station has ever learned about him.
Their first call is a warehouse fire.
Hot.
Long.
Dirty.
By the time they're packing the engine back up, Buck's shirt is sticking to his back with sweat.
He reaches automatically for the cooler.
Five bottles of water.
Without thinking, he starts handing them out.
Hen.
Chim.
Ravi.
Eddie.
Bobby.
Only then does he reach for one himself.
Eddie notices.
Of course he notices.
"You forgot yourself."
Buck blinks.
"What?"
"The water."
"Oh."
Buck shrugs.
"I got one."
"Last."
Buck twists the cap open.
"I wasn't keeping score."
Eddie hums.
"I think you should."
Buck laughs.
"I'm not making a spreadsheet about hydration."
"I wasn't suggesting a spreadsheet."
"You were thinking about it."
"I absolutely was."
---
The next call is a false alarm.
The one after that is a teenager with a broken wrist.
By lunch they're finally back at the station.
Buck heads for the kitchen.
"You making sandwiches?" Ravi asks hopefully.
Buck pauses.
"I wasn't planning to."
"...But now you are?"
Buck smiles.
"I mean..."
Twenty minutes later, everyone has lunch.
Chim bites into his sandwich.
"You know what?"
"What?" Buck asks.
"You're very nurturing."
Hen nods.
"He really is."
Buck shrugs.
"I like feeding people."
"You do."
"I don't think that's weird."
"It isn't."
Eddie is watching him over the rim of his coffee mug.
Thoughtful.
Quiet.
Buck notices.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"No, that's your thinking face."
"I don't have a thinking face."
Hen snorts.
"You absolutely do."
"So do you," Chim says.
Hen gasps.
"Betrayal."
Buck laughs.
For a second, everything feels normal again.
---
It doesn't stay that way.
Because Hen disappears after lunch.
She comes back carrying a gift bag.
Buck eyes it suspiciously.
"...Why do you have a gift bag?"
"No reason."
"Hen."
She smiles far too sweetly.
"I saw this."
She reaches inside.
Buck's stomach drops.
"No."
"Oh yes."
She triumphantly pulls out—
A giant wooden cooking spoon.
Nearly two feet long.
The words BIG SPOON have been written across the front in permanent marker.
Ravi folds in half laughing.
Chim actually has to sit down.
Bobby closes his eyes.
"I'd like it noted that I discouraged this."
"You absolutely did not," Hen replies.
"I discouraged getting two."
Buck groans.
"I hate this station."
Hen hands him the spoon.
"It's yours now."
"I'm not taking that home."
"You absolutely are."
"I'm throwing it away."
"I'll buy another."
Buck points at Eddie.
"Say something."
Eddie is trying.
He really is.
His lips are pressed together so tightly they're almost white.
Then Buck catches his eye.
Eddie loses the battle.
The laugh bursts out of him.
Warm.
Unrestrained.
The kind of laugh Buck spends half his life trying to earn.
"Oh, don't you start," Buck mutters.
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not."
"I'm really not."
Buck rolls his eyes.
"Traitor."
---
The teasing follows him for three days.
Three.
Entire.
Days.
Chim starts every morning with—
"Morning, Big Spoon."
Ravi asks if Buck wants to be the big spoon when they're moving equipment.
Hen leaves plastic spoons in Buck's locker.
Big ones.
Little ones.
Soup spoons.
Serving spoons.
One morning Buck opens his locker to discover twenty-seven teaspoons taped to the inside of the door.
He doesn't even react anymore.
He simply sighs.
"I respect the commitment."
Hen beams.
"Thank you."
---
Eddie, surprisingly...
Stops joking.
Buck notices sometime on Saturday.
Everyone else is still finding it hilarious.
Eddie isn't.
Instead...
He watches.
Buck always walks behind everyone else carrying the heavier bags.
Buck refills everyone's coffee without asking if they want any.
Buck automatically gives Ravi the last protein bar because "you're still growing."
Buck spends ten minutes helping Chim find paperwork that Buck didn't lose.
Buck remembers Bobby's doctor's appointment.
Hen's conference next week.
Christopher's science project.
The brand of cereal Eddie forgot to buy.
Buck notices everything.
Everyone.
Except himself.
Eddie thinks back to the warehouse fire.
Buck had handed out every bottle of water before taking one.
He thinks about lunch.
Buck hadn't been planning to eat.
Only to make food for everyone else.
He thinks about every shift they've ever worked together.
Buck is always moving.
Always helping.
Always asking.
"You okay?"
"Need a hand?"
"I've got it."
"I'll do it."
"You sit down."
Eddie suddenly can't remember the last time he'd heard Buck ask someone else to take care of him.
Not once.
Not ever.
And then...
Buck's words from three days ago come back to him.
"I've never been the little spoon."
Everyone had laughed.
Eddie had laughed.
Because it sounded ridiculous.
Now...
Standing in the middle of the apparatus bay while Buck carries two gear bags because Ravi's hands are full—
It doesn't sound ridiculous anymore.
It sounds...
Lonely.
Painfully lonely.
Eddie's chest tightens.
Maybe Buck hadn't been talking about spooning at all.
Maybe...
He'd been trying to explain something much bigger.
And maybe...
Nobody had listened.
By Monday morning, the spoon has become a permanent fixture in the station.
Buck had tried hiding it.
Hen found it.
He'd put it in Chim's locker.
Chim had zip-tied it to Buck's turnout bag.
Ravi had somehow managed to hang it from the ceiling fan in the loft.
Buck had stopped asking questions.
He'd simply accepted that the giant wooden spoon now lived at Station 118.
"Morning, Big Spoon," Chim called as Buck walked through the bay.
Buck pointed at him without breaking stride.
"One day you're going to need me to drive you home after you do something incredibly stupid."
"Probably."
"And I'm going to make you wait."
"You won't."
"I won't."
"You love me."
Buck sighed dramatically.
"I have made terrible life choices."
Hen looked up from the kitchen table.
"Coffee?"
"Please."
She slid a mug across the table.
Buck smiled.
"Thanks."
He took one sip before noticing Hen didn't have one herself.
"You made coffee and didn't pour yourself any?"
"I was about to."
Buck was already on his feet.
"I'll get it."
Hen watched him move around the kitchen.
Pour her coffee.
Add exactly one sugar.
A splash of oat milk.
He set it down in front of her with a smile before topping up Bobby's mug because it was getting low.
Then he grabbed the empty milk carton.
"I'll add it to the shopping list."
Nobody had asked him to.
Nobody had even noticed it was empty.
Buck had.
Eddie was standing in the doorway.
Watching.
Again.
---
The shift stayed surprisingly quiet.
A smoke alarm.
A minor traffic collision.
A kid with his head stuck between railings that Buck somehow managed to free while convincing the eight-year-old that this definitely wasn't the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened.
"It absolutely is," the boy groaned.
Buck grinned.
"I once got my head stuck in a banister."
The boy looked up.
"Really?"
"No."
"But it made you feel better, didn't it?"
"...Yeah."
"There you go."
By the time the kid was laughing, his mum looked close to tears.
"Thank you," she whispered as they packed up.
Buck smiled.
"Anytime."
She reached out without thinking and squeezed his forearm.
Just for a second.
Then she hurried after her son.
Buck climbed back into the engine.
Eddie noticed Buck looking down at the place she'd touched.
As though he'd expected something else.
---
Back at the station, Buck disappeared into the locker room to change out of his soot-covered shirt.
When he came back, the kitchen was empty except for Bobby.
The captain was making tea.
"Everything alright, kid?"
Buck smiled automatically.
"Yeah."
Bobby looked unconvinced.
"You've been saying that a lot lately."
Buck shrugged.
"I mean..."
"I am."
Bobby stirred his tea slowly.
"You know, people usually ask how everyone else is before they ask how themselves."
Buck laughed.
"I guess."
"You ask how everyone else is."
Buck blinked.
"...Oh."
"I've been watching."
Buck rubbed the back of his neck.
"Occupational hazard."
"No."
Bobby smiled gently.
"I think it's just who you are."
Buck looked down.
"I don't mind."
"I know."
Bobby paused.
"My question is... does anybody ask you?"
Buck didn't answer.
Because he couldn't.
Because Bobby hadn't asked whether people cared about him.
He'd asked whether anyone ever checked.
Whether anyone noticed.
Whether anyone reached first.
The silence stretched just a little too long.
Bobby's expression softened.
"Oh, kid."
Buck forced a grin.
"I'm good, Bobby."
"I know you can survive."
The words were quiet.
"I'm asking if you're letting anyone help you live."
Buck stared.
Before he could answer, the station alarm blared.
Rescue.
Structure collapse.
Everyone moved at once.
Conversation over.
But the question stayed with Buck all the way to the call.
---
It took six hours.
A partially collapsed office building.
Three trapped construction workers.
One terrified apprentice pinned beneath a concrete beam.
Buck spent nearly forty minutes lying flat on his stomach in a space barely high enough to breathe in, talking the young man through every minute of the rescue.
"Don't leave," the apprentice whispered.
"I'm right here."
"It hurts."
"I know."
"I'm scared."
"I know."
"You promise?"
Buck reached as far forward as he could until the kid's shaking hand found his.
"I've got you."
The kid held on so tightly Buck thought his fingers might bruise.
Buck didn't let go.
Not until the beam had been lifted.
Not until the medics had taken over.
Not until he knew the apprentice was going to be okay.
---
The drive back to the station was unusually quiet.
Everyone was exhausted.
Buck rested his forehead against the window, watching the city blur past.
He didn't realize he'd drifted off until something warm settled over his shoulders.
A turnout jacket.
He looked down.
Then across the engine.
Eddie was pretending very hard to look out of his own window.
"You were cold," Eddie said without looking at him.
Buck blinked.
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
Buck looked down at the jacket.
It still smelled faintly of smoke and cedar soap.
Warm from Eddie's shoulders.
For reasons he couldn't explain, his chest tightened.
"...Thanks."
Eddie finally looked over.
There was no teasing in his expression now.
No jokes about spoons.
Just quiet concern.
"You know..."
Buck smiled tiredly.
"What?"
"You told that kid you'd got him."
"Yeah."
"You meant it."
"Of course I did."
Eddie nodded once.
"I wish you'd believe someone when they say it to you."
Buck's smile disappeared.
The engine kept rolling toward the station.
Neither of them spoke again.
But Buck found himself pulling Eddie's jacket a little tighter around his shoulders.
It was the first time all week that he felt even remotely warm.
"Come over after shift."
Buck looks up from lacing his boots.
"Hm?"
Eddie shrugs like it isn't a big deal.
"Chris is at his grandparents' tonight."
"So?"
"So..."
Eddie reaches for his keys.
"I'll cook."
Buck grins.
"You bribing me with food?"
"Is it working?"
"It was working before you mentioned food."
"I know."
Buck laughs.
"Yeah, okay."
---
The drive to Eddie's is familiar enough that Buck could probably do it with his eyes closed.
Not that he'd ever tell Eddie that.
He'd never hear the end of it.
When he knocks, Eddie opens the door almost immediately.
"Perfect timing."
"I was two minutes early."
"I know."
"You timed me?"
"I know roughly how long it takes you to get here."
Buck smirks.
"That's either sweet or slightly concerning."
"I haven't decided which."
The house is quiet without Christopher.
Almost too quiet.
Buck drops onto one of the kitchen stools while Eddie starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge.
"You know..."
Buck says after a minute.
"You really don't have to cook every time I come over."
"I know."
"I can help."
"I know."
"I make a pretty good pasta."
"I know."
Buck narrows his eyes.
"You've got a lot of 'I knows' tonight."
Eddie smiles without looking around.
"I do."
Buck hops off the stool automatically.
"Well, I'm helping anyway."
Before he can reach the chopping board, Eddie gently catches his wrist.
Not tightly.
Just enough to stop him.
"No."
Buck blinks.
"What?"
"I've got it."
"I was just going to cut the peppers."
"I know."
"It'll take two minutes."
"I know."
Buck frowns.
"So why won't you let me?"
Eddie lets go of his wrist.
"Because every single time you're in this kitchen, you find something to do."
Buck laughs.
"It's your kitchen."
"And you're my guest."
"I've never been a guest."
"Exactly."
Buck opens his mouth.
Nothing comes out.
"...Sit down."
"Eddie..."
"Please."
There's something different about the request.
Not firm.
Not parental.
Just...
Important.
Buck sighs dramatically before climbing back onto the stool.
"There."
"You look deeply offended."
"I kind of am."
"I know."
"I feel useless."
The words leave Buck's mouth so quickly he doesn't even realize he's said them.
Eddie stops chopping.
Very slowly, he puts the knife down.
"What did you just say?"
Buck blinks.
"...Nothing."
"You said you feel useless."
"I..."
Buck shrugs awkwardly.
"I don't know."
"You do."
Silence settles between them.
Buck looks down at the kitchen island.
"I just..."
He scratches absentmindedly at a scratch in the wood.
"I don't like sitting around while other people do stuff."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Buck."
Another shrug.
"I guess..."
He laughs quietly.
"I guess if I'm not helping, I don't really know what I'm supposed to do."
Eddie's heart sinks.
---
Dinner is grilled chicken, roasted vegetables and rice.
Buck eats everything on his plate.
Then half of Eddie's vegetables because Eddie claims he cut too many.
Buck suspects that's a lie.
He eats them anyway.
When they're finished, Buck automatically starts stacking the plates.
Eddie reaches across the table.
"Nope."
Buck pauses.
"What?"
"Leave them."
"I can—"
"I know."
Buck stares at him.
The conversation feels strangely familiar.
Like they're having the same argument over and over again.
"I don't understand."
"I know."
"No, seriously."
Buck leans back in his chair.
"Why won't you let me help?"
Eddie doesn't answer immediately.
Instead he asks,
"Can I ask you something?"
Buck smiles.
"You've been waiting all evening."
"I have."
"What is it?"
Eddie folds his arms on the table.
"When you told us about... the spoon thing..."
Buck groans immediately.
"Oh my God."
"Hear me out."
"I cannot believe this has become a serious conversation."
"I can."
Buck drops his forehead dramatically onto the table.
"I'm moving stations."
"You'd miss us."
"I really wouldn't."
"You'd miss me."
"...Maybe."
Eddie smiles.
Then it fades.
"Why did it upset you?"
Buck goes very still.
He doesn't lift his head.
"I told you."
"No."
"You did."
"You told me you've never been the little spoon."
Buck nods against the tabletop.
"But I don't think that's what upset you."
Buck closes his eyes.
He'd hoped they were done talking about this.
He'd hoped it would quietly disappear.
Instead...
It seems to be following him everywhere.
"You know what I keep thinking about?" Eddie asks softly.
Buck doesn't answer.
"You didn't say..."
"I've never been the little spoon."
"You said..."
"I've never been the little spoon."
"...like it was something you'd only just realised."
Buck lifts his head slowly.
Eddie's expression is calm.
Patient.
Waiting.
"I keep wondering..."
Eddie says carefully.
"...why that hurt."
Buck laughs once.
It isn't really a laugh.
"I don't know."
"I think you do."
Buck looks away.
The kitchen suddenly feels very small.
Very quiet.
"I've been thinking about it."
"For days."
"I know."
"I can't stop."
He rubs a hand over his face.
"I keep replaying every relationship I've ever had."
"Every morning."
"Every lazy Sunday."
"Every movie night."
He smiles faintly.
"They all wanted to be the little spoon."
"That isn't a bad thing."
"I know."
"They trusted you."
"I know."
Buck's smile disappears.
"I just..."
His voice grows quieter.
"I kept wondering why nobody ever rolled over and said..."
He swallows.
"'My turn.'"
Eddie's chest aches.
Buck keeps staring at the table.
"I don't think anyone ever looked at me after a bad day and thought..."
He has to stop for a second.
His throat is too tight.
"...'He needs taking care of tonight.'"
The words barely make it out.
"I think..."
Buck whispers.
"I think people just assumed I'd always be okay."
Eddie doesn't move.
Doesn't interrupt.
Because Buck isn't finished.
"I always looked..."
Buck searches for the right word.
"Capable."
He laughs softly.
"I still do."
"I know I do."
"So maybe..."
He shrugs helplessly.
"...maybe nobody ever thought to ask if I wanted to be held instead."
A tear slips down his cheek.
Buck wipes it away immediately.
"God."
He laughs at himself.
"I'm crying over spooning."
"No."
Eddie's voice is barely above a whisper.
"You're crying because somewhere along the way, you started believing that being the one who protects everyone means you don't deserve to be protected too."
Buck's breath catches.
He looks at Eddie.
Really looks at him.
And for the first time since this ridiculous conversation about spooning had started...
Someone finally understands what he's been trying to say.
"I don't think..."
Buck whispers.
"...I actually wanted to be the little spoon."
Eddie waits.
Buck smiles sadly.
"I think..."
Another shaky breath.
"I just wanted somebody to want me to be."
The silence that follows is almost sacred.
Eddie stands.
Walks around the table.
Stops beside Buck's chair.
He doesn't say anything.
He simply rests one hand gently on the back of Buck's neck.
Warm.
Steady.
Present.
Buck closes his eyes.
Without thinking, he leans into the touch.
Just a little.
Just enough for Eddie to feel it.
And enough for Eddie to make a decision.
No more talking.
Buck didn't need another conversation.
He needed someone to show him that wanting to take care of him wasn't a burden.
It was a choice.
One Eddie had been making for a very long time.
Neither of them says anything for a long time.
Buck keeps his eyes closed.
Eddie's hand is still resting lightly against the back of his neck, his thumb moving once every few seconds in slow, absent-minded strokes.
It's soothing.
Dangerously soothing.
Buck hadn't realized how starved he was for simple, uncomplicated affection until now.
Not romantic.
Not passionate.
Just...
Gentle.
Eventually Buck clears his throat.
"I've kind of ruined dinner."
Eddie huffs a laugh.
"You definitely didn't."
"I cried."
"You did."
"Over spooning."
"You absolutely did."
Buck groans.
"I'm never living this down."
"No."
Buck opens one eye.
"...No?"
"No."
Eddie smiles.
"Because this conversation stays here."
Something in Buck relaxes.
Just a little.
---
Eddie finally takes his hand away.
"Come on."
Buck frowns.
"Where are we going?"
"The living room."
"Oh."
Buck blinks.
"I thought..."
"You thought what?"
"I don't know."
Eddie smiles to himself.
Buck has been overthinking every interaction for days.
It shows.
The living room is quiet.
The television stays off.
Instead Eddie disappears for a moment before coming back with two blankets.
Buck laughs.
"Seriously?"
"I know you."
"I don't get cold that easily."
"You absolutely do."
"I do not."
"You steal my hoodies."
"They're comfortable."
"They're warm."
"They're comfortable."
Eddie tosses one blanket at Buck anyway.
Buck catches it automatically.
"You know," Eddie says as he settles onto one end of the couch, "I've been thinking."
"That's usually dangerous."
"It is."
"I've decided the problem isn't actually the spooning."
Buck snorts.
"We've established that."
"No."
Eddie shakes his head.
"I mean I think you're asking the wrong question."
Buck wraps the blanket around his legs.
"What should I be asking?"
"You keep asking..."
"Why has nobody ever wanted me to be the little spoon?"
Buck nods slowly.
"I think the better question is..."
Eddie pauses.
"...why didn't you ever ask?"
Buck laughs.
"I can't exactly put that on a dating profile."
Eddie grins.
"No?"
"'Hi, I'm Buck. I enjoy hiking, baking and occasionally require being the little spoon.'"
"I'd swipe right."
Buck laughs so hard he nearly drops the blanket.
"I'm being serious."
"I know."
The laughter fades.
Buck stares down at the fabric gathered in his hands.
"I don't know."
"What?"
"Why I never asked."
Another shrug.
"I guess..."
He searches for the words.
"...it never occurred to me that I could."
Eddie nods.
"I figured."
"I mean..."
Buck rubs at a loose thread.
"If somebody had asked me to hold them, I would've been happy to."
"You always were."
"Yeah."
"But..."
He looks up.
"I never stopped to think whether I wanted a turn."
---
The silence isn't awkward.
It's thoughtful.
After a minute Eddie says quietly,
"Can I tell you something?"
Buck nods.
"The first few months after Shannon died..."
Buck's attention sharpens immediately.
"I barely slept."
Eddie looks down at his own hands.
"Every time I closed my eyes, my brain wouldn't stop."
"So I used to lie awake until sunrise."
Buck doesn't interrupt.
"I remember one night Christopher climbed into my bed."
A fond smile flickers across Eddie's face.
"He couldn't have been more than seven."
"He didn't say anything."
"He just curled up against me."
Buck smiles softly.
"I wrapped my arm around him because that's what dads do."
He pauses.
"About an hour later I woke up."
"What happened?"
"He'd rolled over in his sleep."
Eddie laughs quietly.
"I was the little spoon."
Buck blinks.
"What?"
"He was seven."
"I know."
"But somehow..."
Eddie smiles at the memory.
"...he'd managed to throw one arm around me."
Buck can't help laughing.
"I bet he was very proud."
"He absolutely would have been."
The laughter dies away.
"But do you know what I remember most?"
Buck shakes his head.
"I remember thinking..."
Eddie's voice grows softer.
"...that for just a few minutes, I wasn't the only one trying to hold everything together."
Buck looks at him.
"It didn't matter that he was a kid."
"It mattered that someone had reached for me."
The words settle gently between them.
Buck whispers,
"I think that's what I've been trying to say."
"I know."
---
Another quiet settles over the room.
Then Eddie suddenly asks,
"So."
Buck narrows his eyes.
"So?"
"Hypothetically."
"Oh no."
"Hypothetically..."
Eddie's lips twitch.
"If someone wanted to know what all the fuss was about..."
Buck immediately starts laughing.
"You are unbelievable."
"I'm asking a question."
"No, you're setting me up."
"I promise I'm not."
Buck studies him for a long moment.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"...Hypothetically?"
"Hypothetically."
Buck pulls the blanket tighter around himself.
"I guess..."
He smiles sheepishly.
"...I'd probably want to know."
Eddie nods once.
"Okay."
Buck waits.
"Okay?"
"Okay."
"...That's it?"
"That's it."
Buck frowns.
"I thought..."
"You thought I was going to immediately drag you upstairs and make you be the little spoon?"
Buck's ears turn bright red.
"I did not think that."
"You absolutely did."
"I absolutely didn't."
"You've got a terrible poker face."
Buck groans.
"I hate talking to you."
"No, you don't."
"...No."
He doesn't.
Not even a little.
---
An hour later they're both still on the couch.
The conversation has drifted to work.
To Christopher.
To Bobby's latest attempts at healthy cooking.
Buck is halfway through telling a story about Chim somehow setting off the station alarm with a toaster when he yawns so hard his jaw clicks.
Eddie notices.
"You tired?"
Buck shakes his head automatically.
"No."
Another yawn interrupts him.
Eddie raises an eyebrow.
"...Maybe a little."
"You can stay."
Buck hesitates.
"I don't want to impose."
"You aren't."
"I could drive home."
"You could."
Buck looks toward the dark windows.
Then back at Eddie.
"...Okay."
It's the first time all evening that Buck agrees to let someone else decide what he needs.
Eddie smiles to himself.
It isn't much.
But it's a start.
And upstairs, waiting in Eddie's bedroom, is a conversation neither of them is ever going to forget.
Eddie disappears upstairs first.
"I'll grab you something to sleep in."
Buck nods.
"Okay."
The house is quiet.
Quieter than Buck has ever heard it.
No Christopher laughing from his bedroom.
No video game soundtrack drifting down the hallway.
Just the creak of the stairs as Eddie walks back down carrying one of his oldest LAFD T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants.
"They'll be too long," Eddie says, handing them over.
Buck smiles.
"They'll fit."
"They'll definitely fit."
Buck takes them.
Their fingers brush.
Such a tiny thing.
It still makes his stomach flip.
"I'll... uh..."
He gestures vaguely toward the bathroom.
"Yeah."
Buck disappears before he can embarrass himself any further.
---
He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror.
"You are thirty-five years old."
The man in the mirror looks unconvinced.
"You've jumped out of helicopters."
Still unconvinced.
"You've walked into burning buildings."
Nothing.
"And somehow..."
Buck laughs at himself.
"...you're nervous about spooning."
He covers his face with both hands.
"This is ridiculous."
A pause.
"...I'm definitely having a little spoon crisis."
---
When he comes out a few minutes later, Eddie is leaning against the bedroom headboard reading something on his phone.
He looks up immediately.
"Everything fit?"
Buck looks down at himself.
The sweatpants are rolled up twice.
The sleeves cover half his hands.
"I look like a kid wearing his dad's clothes."
Eddie smiles.
"You look comfortable."
"I do, actually."
"Good."
Buck hovers awkwardly in the doorway.
Eddie notices.
"You can come in."
"I know."
"You look like you're waiting outside the principal's office."
Buck snorts.
"I kind of feel like I am."
"There are significantly fewer lectures in here."
"I don't know..."
Buck looks around the room.
"This feels weird."
"I know."
"I've been in your room loads of times."
"I know."
"But never..."
"...For spooning?"
Buck groans loudly.
"I cannot believe we're saying that out loud."
Eddie laughs.
"I think we should commit to the bit."
"There shouldn't be a bit."
"There absolutely should."
Buck shakes his head.
"I already got mocked by the entire station."
"You'll survive."
"Barely."
---
Eddie pats the mattress beside him.
Buck walks over and sits.
Immediately.
His hands land on his thighs.
His back goes ramrod straight.
He looks exactly like someone waiting for a driving test.
Eddie bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself smiling.
"You look terrified."
"I'm not terrified."
"Buck."
"...I'm moderately terrified."
"Why?"
Buck shrugs helplessly.
"I don't know what's supposed to happen."
Eddie tilts his head.
"What do you think is supposed to happen?"
"I don't know."
Buck laughs nervously.
"I've never been on this side of it."
That sentence hangs in the air.
Not because of spooning.
Because it suddenly sounds like it's about so much more.
Eddie reaches over and nudges Buck's knee.
"You're overthinking."
"I know."
"You've got years of big spoon instincts."
Buck sighs.
"I really do."
"So..."
Eddie's voice is warm.
"Let me do the work tonight."
Buck looks up.
Those six words settle somewhere deep inside him.
Let me do the work.
Nobody had ever said that to him before.
Not really.
Buck had always been the one adjusting.
The one making room.
The one making sure everyone else was comfortable.
The one wrapping an arm around someone.
The one staying awake until they fell asleep.
The one carrying.
Always carrying.
He feels his eyes sting.
Eddie notices immediately.
"Hey."
"I'm okay."
"I know."
Buck laughs wetly.
"I don't know why that got me."
"I do."
---
Eddie shifts until he's sitting with his back against the headboard.
"Come here."
Buck blinks.
"What?"
"Come here."
"I..."
"I'll tell you what to do."
Buck smiles despite himself.
"You're giving spooning instructions."
"I am."
"You've thought about this."
"I have."
Buck laughs.
"Of course you have."
"Turn around."
Buck obeys.
Awkwardly.
Very awkwardly.
He turns until his back is facing Eddie.
Then stops.
"...Now what?"
"Come back a little."
Buck shuffles backwards an inch.
"No, that's too little."
Another inch.
"A bit more."
"Eddie."
"What?"
"I feel like I'm parallel parking."
Eddie laughs so hard he has to hide his face for a second.
"I'm sorry."
"No, you're not."
"I'm really not."
Buck keeps inching backwards.
"There?"
"A little more."
Eventually Buck's back bumps lightly against Eddie's chest.
Both of them go still.
"Oh," Buck says quietly.
Eddie smiles.
"Good start?"
Buck nods once.
"Good start."
---
"You comfortable?"
"I think so."
"Can I move closer?"
Buck's heart skips.
"...Yeah."
Slowly...
Very slowly...
Eddie closes the tiny gap that still separates them.
Buck can feel the warmth at his back now.
Solid.
Steady.
Comforting.
"Okay?"
"...Yeah."
"Can I put my arm around you?"
Nobody had ever asked him that before.
Not once.
Every relationship he'd ever had, he'd simply been expected to do the holding.
Being asked...
Being given a choice...
It makes something ache inside him.
"Please."
The word slips out before he can stop it.
Eddie doesn't comment.
He simply slides one arm carefully around Buck's waist.
Loose.
Relaxed.
No pressure.
No expectation.
Buck immediately notices something.
"My hands."
"What about them?"
"I don't know where they're supposed to go."
Eddie chuckles softly.
"Anywhere."
"That's not helpful."
"Put them wherever they're comfortable."
Buck experiments.
Crossed over his chest.
No.
By his sides.
No.
One hand resting lightly on Eddie's forearm.
"...Oh."
"There you go."
"That feels..."
He pauses.
"...Nice."
"Told you."
---
"And now?" Buck asks.
"Now..."
Eddie smiles into his hair.
"We wait."
"For what?"
"For your brain to stop panicking."
Buck huffs a laugh.
"It's panicking a little."
"I noticed."
"I keep thinking I should be doing something."
"You are."
"What?"
"Being the little spoon."
Buck rolls his eyes.
"Very helpful."
"I try."
Another minute passes.
Then another.
The room grows quiet.
Buck's breathing gradually begins to match Eddie's.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Without realizing it, Buck lets a little more of his weight settle backwards.
Eddie doesn't say anything.
He just stays there.
Steady as a mountain.
Buck lets himself sink another fraction.
Then another.
Until...
He's fully leaning against Eddie.
Completely.
The realization hits him all at once.
He isn't holding himself up anymore.
Eddie is.
A tiny, surprised sound escapes him.
"...Oh."
Eddie smiles.
"What?"
Buck closes his eyes.
"...I get it."
"What do you get?"
Buck laughs softly.
His voice is thick with emotion.
"...I get why people fight over being the little spoon."
Eddie lets out a quiet laugh.
"I was wondering when you'd figure it out."
Buck shakes his head slowly.
"No..."
Another breath.
"I mean..."
His fingers curl gently around Eddie's arm.
"I get why people want someone to reach for them."
He swallows hard.
"I've spent so long thinking the best part of spooning was making somebody else feel safe..."
A tear slips free.
"I didn't know..."
His voice breaks.
"...that feeling safe could feel like this."
Eddie tightens his arm just enough to be felt.
No more.
No less.
"I know."
Buck smiles through the tears.
"No."
He leans back another impossible fraction, until there isn't an inch of space between them.
"I don't think you do."
He laughs quietly.
"I think..."
Another shaky breath.
"...I could stay here forever."
Eddie rests his chin lightly against Buck's shoulder.
"You don't have to stay forever."
Buck nods.
"I know."
"...But maybe..."
He closes his eyes.
"...Just tonight?"
Eddie's answer comes without a second's hesitation.
"As many nights as you need."
For the first time in days, Buck doesn't think about who needs him.
He doesn't think about tomorrow's shift.
He doesn't think about the people he's trying to save.
He doesn't think about being useful.
He simply lets himself be the little spoon.
And somewhere between one heartbeat and the next, he realizes he'd never really wanted a different cuddle position.
He'd just wanted someone who looked at him after a hard day and thought—
My turn.