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The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came after Christopher had finally fallen asleep in his room after a long, sugar-fueled evening with his dads.
Buck was sprawled sideways on the couch like a starfish, one sock-covered foot pressed against Eddie's thigh and the other wedged under the coffee table like it was a strategic maneuver.
Eddie, who had started the movie actually watching it, was now more focused on Buck's slowly drooping eyelids and the way he blinked like it was a full-body effort.
"You're gonna fall asleep." Eddie said, poking Buck's ankle gently.
"No, I'm not." Buck opened one eye.
"You literally just snored through the second half of that scene." Eddie raised an eyebrow.
"That was..." Buck yawned. "That was a contemplative sigh."
"Sure." Eddie snorted, nudging Buck's foot away from his lap. "A contemplative snore."
They were watching The Mummy, because apparently Buck was on a Brendan Fraser kick and had announced it was "a classic and also educational if you count ancient curses as a learning opportunity."
Christopher had bowed out after the museum scene, claiming he didn't want nightmares about scarabs, and honestly? Eddie couldn't blame him. Buck had been overly excited about all the bugs.
Red flag behavior, if you asked Eddie.
But now, with Chris tucked in and out cold, Buck was blinking slower and slower, his body slowly sinking into the cushions like he'd become part of the furniture.
Eddie didn't mind. Not one bit.
These were the best kind of nights. No emergencies, no calls, no near-death experiences.
Just the sound of the TV, the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen, and Buck next to him, warm and soft and familiar.
By the time the credits started rolling, Buck was dead asleep. Mouth slightly open, one arm wrapped around a throw pillow like it owed him money. His chest rose and fell with the kind of even rhythm that only came with total exhaustion and complete safety.
Eddie didn't move at first. He just sat there for a moment, watching the screen fade into black and listening to the soft, sleepy sound of Buck's breathing.
He should wake him up. He should. Buck would complain in the morning about a sore neck or how the couch made his back feel like it had aged fifty years overnight. But...
Buck shifted slightly in his sleep, exhaling a breath that puffed his cheeks out before deflating. His legs had gone boneless, one now draped haphazardly over the armrest like his body forgot what restraint was.
His shirt had ridden up just a little, exposing a strip of pale skin above his waistband, and Eddie's fingers itched to smooth it back down, to touch, to soothe.
That settled it.
Eddie exhaled softly and stood, careful not to jostle the couch too much. Buck made a noise at the loss of warmth beside him. A soft, disgruntled sort of hum that had Eddie freezing in place.
"I'm still here," he whispered.
Buck didn't respond, just smacked his lips and flopped his head more firmly into the crook of the pillow.
Eddie smiled.
He grabbed the bigger, fluffier throw blanket from the back of the recliner—the one Buck always claimed was his blanket because it "felt like cuddling a cloud and smelled like home."
Eddie draped it gently over Buck's body, tucking it in around his feet like he was tucking in Christopher, brushing it up over his chest until it sat snug at his shoulders.
"Alright, Sleeping Beauty." Eddie murmured, crouching down beside the couch. His voice was barely a breath. "You win tonight."
Buck's nose wrinkled. He let out a sleepy sigh and curled slightly to the side, face nuzzling into the pillow.
Eddie reached out and, before he could talk himself out of it, gently brushed Buck's curls off his forehead. The strands were soft, warm, slightly damp from earlier when Buck had showered and not bothered to fully dry his hair before plopping on the couch like a wet golden retriever.
Buck made a quiet sound again, a little breathy hum of contentment, like the touch registered even if his brain wasn't fully awake to appreciate it.
"Thanks, babe." Eddie whispered, impersonating Buck's own sleepy mumble from earlier. "You're the best boyfriend ever."
Buck grunted.
Eddie swore, swore, his mouth twitched in the faintest, drowsiest ghost of a smile.
He stood slowly, reluctant to break the peace. His hand hovered just a moment longer over Buck's shoulder, thumb grazing the edge of the blanket. Then he pulled back.
The TV went off with a soft click.
Eddie dimmed the floor lamp until the room was bathed in a golden hush, shadows pooling gently at the edges.
The dishwasher was still running in the kitchen, a soft white noise that made the house feel alive but calm.
As he padded toward the hallway, Eddie glanced back one last time.
Buck looked utterly at home, like the couch had been made for him, like this moment was carved out of a dream. He was safe. Loved.
"Night, Buck." Eddie said softly, barely audible over the hum of the house.
And then he turned, the smile still lingering on his lips, and headed to bed.
//////////
Eddie awoke in the pitch dark with a jolt, his heart hammering in his chest like someone had yanked the emergency brake on his dreams.
Disoriented, he blinked up at the ceiling, struggling to figure out what the hell had just woken him.
No sounds. No sirens. No alarms. No Christopher calling out from a nightmare.
Just... There.
At the foot of his bed was a figure standing motionless. Shadowed and looming.
Wrapped in a blanket and staring.
Eddie's breath caught in his throat. His body went rigid.
For one terrifying, adrenaline-soaked second, he thought they were being haunted, which was something he's never believed in. Or worse, robbed by the most passive-aggressive burglar in Los Angeles.
"WHAT THE—" He gasped, voice rasping out of him like a frightened exhale. "Buck?!"
The figure stepped forward, one slow, dramatic movement at a time. His bare feet barely made a sound on the carpet.
His hair stuck out at wild angles, like it had fought valiantly against a pillow and lost. His entire body was swaddled in a blanket, tucked around his shoulders like a makeshift cape.
The only thing visible was his face, looking pale and betrayed in the moonlight filtering in through the blinds.
"Why'd you leave me out there by myself?" Buck's voice was low. Haunted. Offended.
"Are you—" Eddie blinked at him in disbelief. He was still groggy, brain catching up to the moment like a buffering video. "Are you serious right now?"
Buck didn't move.
Just stood there, his blanket trailing like he was the world's saddest, clingiest ghost.
"I woke up, and you were gone." he said solemnly, like he was telling the story of a tragedy that had scarred generations. "I was cold. Alone. Betrayed. Like a sad little Victorian orphan in a fireless parlour."
"Jesus Christ, Buck. You can't just—" Eddie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You can't just stand there like that in the dark! I thought you were a demon or something."
"I was a demon." Buck said, eyes wide and injured. "A demon of abandonment. Cast aside by the one person I trusted most."
"You're out of your mind," Eddie muttered, sitting up and flicking on the lamp by his bed. He squinted against the sudden light and finally got a proper look at Buck.
It did not help.
He looked even worse in full view—like something out of a Tim Burton remake of Oliver Twist. Blanket cinched up under his chin.
A single curl drooping tragically over his forehead. Bare ankles poking out the bottom like sad little icicles.
"You look like a damn ghost." Eddie said, exasperated. "I thought I was about to get murdered by the spirit of Christmas past."
"You did murder me." Buck said seriously, taking another step toward the bed. "Emotionally."
"You passed out! Face-first in the cushions! You were snoring and— Drooling, Buck." Eddie protested.
"You kissed me yesterday and now you're using my drool against me?" Buck asked, scandalized. "Wow. Wow."
"I put a blanket on you!" Eddie continued to defend.
"Exactly!" Buck replied dramatically. "Like I was a forgotten child in a Dickens novel!"
"You were a forgotten child in a Dickens novel!" Eddie snapped, then threw his arms up. "What was I supposed to do, fireman-carry your ass to bed?!"
"YES!" Buck burst out, throwing the edges of the blanket dramatically behind his shoulders like a cape. "That's literally your job. Fireman-carrying me is part of the boyfriend contract!"
"Boyfriend contract?!" Eddie gaped.
"You signed it with kisses and cuddles." Buck gave him a wounded look. "And then you broke clause seven: 'Thou shalt not abandon thy boyfriend on the couch like a tragic couch-ghost.'"
"You're insufferable." Eddie sighed.
"I suffered. In silence." Buck replied. "Like a martyr."
"Go haunt the damn couch again." Eddie collapsed back onto the bed with a loud groan, yanking the pillow over his face. "I'm going back to sleep."
There was a pause.
A long, weighted silence filled with the kind of dramatic tension usually reserved for soap operas or high-stakes courtroom dramas.
Then the mattress dipped.
Eddie peeked out from under his pillow, eyebrows raised.
Buck was crawling into bed, still cocooned in his blanket, dragging it across the sheets like a vengeful burrito.
"What are you doing?" Eddie sighed.
"Making sure you don't abandon me again." Buck said primly, settling beside him with all the grace of a melodramatic octopus. "You're lucky I didn't start rattling chains at the foot of your bed."
"You're lucky I didn't throw a shoe at your head." Eddie grumbled.
"I felt your absence." Buck wiggled closer under the covers.
"I was gone for twenty minutes, Max." Eddie muttered, turning onto his side to look at him. "You can't just act like I shipped off to war and left you with nothing but a love letter and a crocheted blanket."
"You might as well have," Buck said, eyes fluttering closed. "The couch was cold. My heart was colder."
Eddie rolled his eyes but still reached out to wrap an arm around him, tugging him close.
He rested his hand against Buck's back, palm spread over the blanket like he was warming him through sheer contact.
"You know I love you, right?" he mumbled, already drifting back toward sleep.
"Do you?" Buck shifted just enough to nuzzle into Eddie's neck.
"Yes, I love you." Eddie cracked one eye open.
"Because you left me alone." Buck whispered against his skin. "In the living room like a forgotten toy. Like an emotionally neglected Build-A-Bear."
"Shut up." Eddie swatted him lightly on the back of the head.
"Emotionally." Buck added.
"Shut." Eddie sighed. "Up."
"Ghosted. Literally." Buck continued. "I was a ghost."
"You're never falling asleep on the couch again." Eddie groaned into the pillow again. "If I have to carry you over my shoulder like a sack of drama, I will."
"Finally." Buck grinned, satisfied. "He understands."
They lay there in the soft quiet of early morning.
The blanket cocoon slowly unraveling as Buck snuggled deeper into Eddie's side. Warm and safe and completely ridiculous.
"Still emotionally abandoned though." Buck whispered just before Eddue fell asleep again, faint and smug.
"Buck, I swear to God—" Eddie didn't even bother opening his eyes.
///////////
The morning light filtered lazily through the blinds, painting soft stripes across the bed and two tangled bodies underneath the covers.
The room was warm with leftover heat from the night before, faintly smelling like laundry detergent, aftershave, and Buck.
Buck blinked awake slowly, the fuzz of sleep clinging to his brain like cobwebs. He shifted, nose wrinkling when the blanket slipped off his shoulder.
Eddie's arm was draped across his waist, heavy and solid, anchoring him like always.
He turned his head slightly.
"Eddie." he whispered.
No response.
"Eddie..." He tried again. "You awake?"
A beat of silence.
"No." Eddie muttered, before shoving his face into the pillow like it might teleport him away from this conversation.
"Okay, rude." Buck let out a loud, dramatic huff. "I woke up in the emotional trenches last night and you can't even give me a 'good morning'?"
Eddie lifted a hand blindly and swatted in Buck's general direction, catching nothing but air.
"You woke me up like a haunted Muppet in a blanket cape." he mumbled into the pillow. "You're lucky I didn't punch you in the face."
"You screamed like I was a burglar." Buck rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand.
"I gasped." Eddie corrected, still facedown. "There's a difference."
"You made a noise like you'd swallowed a frog and then panicked about it." Buck teased.
"Because I opened my eyes and saw a shadow person standing at the foot of my bed." Eddie turned his head just enough to glare at him through one sleepy eye.
"I was cold and abandoned!" Buck sat up a little straighter.
"You had a blanket!" Eddie growled.
"That you left me with like I was some Dickensian paperboy freezing on a stoop!" Buck protested.
"God, you're still going." Eddie groaned, grabbed his pillow, and flopped it over his own face.
Buck flopped back down dramatically beside him, tugging the covers up to his chin.
"I just think it's weird," he said, faux-casual. "How fast you went from snuggling me to ghosting me."
"I snuggled you because you were warm and asleep," Eddie muttered from under the pillow. "You think I wanna carry your dead weight down the hallway at midnight? I'm not risking a hernia over your dramatic ass."
"I'm not dead weight!" Buck protested. "I'm perfectly liftable!"
"Buck, you're like six feet of limbs and emotions." Eddie cracked the pillow just enough to peek out. "It's like trying to carry a golden retriever who just realized he wasn't invited in the car."
"Okay. First of all, rude." Buck blinked. "Second of all, fair."
A moment passed. The room fell back into a warm, lazy silence, the kind that only came when neither of them had to be anywhere just yet.
Outside, the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds reminded them it was morning, but the bed was far too comfortable to leave just yet.
"You could've at least left a note." Buck scooted closer, resting his forehead against Eddie's arm.
"In the twenty minutes between you passing out and me going to bed?" Eddie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Simple. Reassuring." Buck nodded solemnly. "Something like, 'Gone to bed, love you, don't haunt me.'"
"You're insufferable." Eddie snorted.
"You married insufferable." Buck grinned against his bicep.
"Dated," Eddie corrected automatically. "Still dating. We've discussed this. Stop upgrading us mid-argument."
"Semantics." Buck waved a hand.
"You really gonna guilt trip me over this all day?" Eddie turned toward him finally, eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was a soft little tug of a smile playing at his lips.
"Only until you admit you missed me." Buck shrugged, then leaned in and kissed the corner of Eddie's mouth gently.
"You were twenty feet away." Eddie rolled his eyes.
"That's twenty feet too many," Buck mumbled, curling back into Eddie like he belonged there. "You made me haunt a couch."
"Fine. I missed you." Eddie sighed, wrapping an arm back around him. "You're clingy, dramatic, and overly theatrical, but I missed you."
"There we go." Buck smiled into his chest. "Progress."
They lay there quietly again, bodies pressed together, hearts beating in sync.
"Next time you wake me up standing silently at the foot of the bed like that, I'm throwing the lamp at you." Eddie muttered after a minute.
"Worth it." Buck beamed.
//////////
The scent of coffee and cinnamon rolls had started to fill the house by the time Eddie shuffled into the kitchen, still barefoot and still wearing the same T-shirt from the night before.
His hair was sticking up on one side and his eyes were half-lidded, but he was holding two mugs, one for himself and one for the very clingy man currently wrapped around his back.
Buck was trailing after him like a sleepy duckling, arms circled around Eddie's waist, chin resting on his shoulder.
"Are you gonna detach from me at some point?" Eddie asked, amused but also trying not to spill the coffee.
"Nope," Buck murmured. "I've got abandonment trauma. You caused it. Now you live with it."
"You were asleep for thirty minutes and I went to bed." Eddie protested.
"And left me," Buck said, voice muffled into Eddie's shoulder. "Alone. Cold. Heartbroken."
"You were snoring with your mouth open," Eddie said flatly.
"Because I trusted you." Buck replied.
Just then, they both heard the telltale creak of Christopher's door opening, followed by the quiet shuffle of socks on hardwood.
Eddie turned around just as Chris padded into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.
"Morning," Eddie greeted, releasing Buck just enough to set the mugs on the counter.
"Morning," Chris mumbled back, yawning. "Why does it smell like drama?"
"Ask your dad why he left me for dead on the couch." Buck straightened up and pointed at Eddie.
"Wait—" Christopher froze, blinked once, then squinted at Buck. "Is that why you were being weird in my doorway earlier?"
"I wasn't in your doorway—" Buck frowned. "Wait, what?"
"At like four in the morning, I woke up and saw you shuffling down the hallway wrapped in a blanket like a sad ghost." Chris plopped down at the table and grabbed a cinnamon roll from the plate in the middle. "I thought you were going to the bathroom but you never came back."
"You did a whole haunted hallway walk before coming to my room?" Eddie turned slowly to stare at Buck.
"I was collecting myself! It was a journey!" Buck looked defensive. "A dramatic emotional arc!"
"You were literally moping like that one Victorian kid in the Christmas Carol movie we watched." Chris said as he took a bite of cinnamon roll, chewing thoughtfully.
"I was emotionally abandoned," Buck insisted, crossing his arms. "I had to grieve. Process."
"He's got a point." Eddie handed Chris a napkin and looked at Buck, unimpressed. "You did look like Tiny Tim stood up during recess."
"I thought you were gonna start moaning about chains and regrets." Chris grinned.
"You too?" Buck gasped. "Not you, Christopher."
"You were floating." Chris shrugged.
"I was walking." Buck defended. "Sadly."
"With no feet visible." Chris added.
"This house is full of traitors." Buck made a wounded noise and dropped his head onto Eddie's shoulder again.
"You brought this on yourself." Eddie reached up and patted his head.
"I just wanted cuddles!" Buck protested.
"You had them." Eddie replied.
"You left me." Buck said flatly.
"Hey Buck?" Chris leaned over his plate.
"Yeah?" Buck lifted his head slightly.
"I love you, but you're so dramatic." Chris patted his head just like Eddie had done a moment prior.
Eddie snorted into his coffee.
"You know what? Fine. Mock me." Buck squinted at both of them like he was calculating the weight of this betrayal. "But next time you fall asleep on the couch? I'm tucking you in with a napkin and turning off the lights. See how you like it."
"That's all I ask." Eddie grinned.
"I'll even draw ghost eyes on the blanket." Chris added. "For the full experience."
"I hate this family." Buck groaned and flopped face-first onto the table beside Chris's plate.
"Emotionally?" Eddie asked, grinning around his mug.
"Especially emotionally." Buck's muffled voice came from the table.
"You're lucky we still love you." Chris reached over again and gently patted the back of Buck's head like he was a misbehaving puppy.
"I really am." Buck turned his face to the side, cheek smooshed against the table but smiling.
//////////
That night, the house was quiet again.
The kind of peaceful silence that settled in after a long day filled with gentle bickering, affectionate teasing, and at least one very dramatic retelling of 'The Great Couch Betrayal' that Buck performed at dinner like a one-man Broadway show.
Christopher had gone to bed early, worn out from laughing too much at Buck pretending to 'haunt' the hallway again, this time with a pillowcase over his head and a trail of string cheese behind him for dramatic effect.
Now, Eddie was on the couch, flipping through a book.
Buck was stretched out beside him, half-sprawled across Eddie's lap, long legs dangling off the edge of the couch, eyes fluttering closed even as he tried to pretend he wasn't falling asleep.
"You're drifting." Eddie murmured, brushing his fingers through Buck's hair.
"Not true. I'm just..." Buck hummed. "Horizontally engaged in restful observation."
"You were snoring like thirty seconds ago." Eddie pointed out.
"Was I snoring cutely?" Buck mumbled.
"You sounded like a congested bear." Eddie added.
"Okay. That's hurtful." Buck's eyes cracked open, brow furrowed in exaggerated offense. "I'm fragile, you know."
"Emotionally?" Eddie teased.
Buck gave him a sleepy thumbs-up and let his eyes close again.
Eddie smiled despite himself, letting the hand in Buck's hair linger.
The TV was on low, something old and familiar playing in the background, but neither of them were really paying attention anymore.
"Hey." Eddie poked Buck's shoulder after a moment. "Bed?"
"Can't. Too tired." Buck groaned dramatically, rolling onto his back but not moving otherwise. "My bones are jelly."
"You walked five miles this morning with Chris to get bagels." Eddie snorted.
"And I used the last of my strength for performance art and emotional recovery." Buck defended.
"You're unbelievable." Eddie rolled his eyes.
"Agreed." Buck said, eyes still closed. "And possibly dying. My spirit is faint."
"Okay, drama queen." Eddie stood up, brushing popcorn crumbs off his sweatshirt.
Buck made no move to follow.
"You're really gonna make me do this, huh?" Eddie raised a brow.
"You promised. Last night. Boyfriend contract." Buck cracked one eye open and gave him a look so pathetic it was practically a puppy begging for table scraps. "Fireman-carry clause."
"That was not a real clause." Eddie groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face.
"Wasn't not a clause." Buck murmured smugly.
With a long-suffering sigh, Eddie walked over, leaned down, and slipped his arms around Buck, one under his knees and one behind his back.
Buck yelped as he was lifted off the couch in one smooth motion.
"Oh my god, you're actually doing it." Buck said, grinning like a delighted idiot. "Eddie. You're carrying me. Like a princess. This is all I've ever wanted."
"Shut up." Eddie muttered, already regretting everything.
"This is better than prom." Buck wrapped his arms around Eddie's neck, leaning in dramatically.
"We never went to prom together." Eddie said. "We didn't even know each other back then."
"And whose fault is that?" Buck replied.
"Don't make me drop you." Eddie warned.
"Emotionally or physically?" Buck whispered, eyes wide with fake panic.
"Both," Eddie grunted as he adjusted Buck's weight and headed down the hallway. "If you don't stop talking, I'm leaving you outside like a raccoon problem."
As they passed Christopher's bedroom door, it creaked open slightly and Chris poked his head out, blinking at them.
"Are you fireman-carrying Buck?" He squinted.
"He's emotionally injured." Eddie didn't stop walking.
"Again?" Chris yawned.
"Tell my story, Christopher." Buck lifted one hand weakly. "Let them know I loved... deeply."
Chris just shook his head and shut the door.
Eddie reached the bedroom and dropped Buck on the bed, not gently, but not enough to actually hurt him either.
"That was aggressive." Buck bounced once.
"That was deserved," Eddie shot back, tugging off his hoodie. "Now get under the covers or I'm feeding you to the hallway ghosts."
"You love me." Buck flopped over, curling under the blanket like a dramatic little burrito again.
"Unfortunately." Eddie crawled in beside him and kissed the top of his head.
"Emotionally?" Buck grinned into the pillow.
"Always." Eddie pulled him in close, fingers threading through his hair once more.
"Promise me something?" Buck's voice was barely above a whisper.
Eddie raised his head, curious.
"Promise me that no matter how many times I 'haunt' the hallway or need to be carried like a princess, you'll always be there." Buck continued.
"I promise." Eddie smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from Buck's forehead. "Ghosts and all."
Buck let out a contented sigh, his fingers curling around Eddie's hand like a lifeline.
For a few moments, they simply existed there, tangled under the covers and the soft glow of the nightlight, two quiet souls who had found their way home to each other.
"Goodnight, Eddie." Buck murmured, voice thick with sleep.
"Goodnight, Buck." Eddie replied, kissing the top of his head once more before closing his eyes.
And in that peaceful silence, the house slept. Safe, warm, and exactly where it belonged.