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Eddie is tired. He’s tired and he’s home and Buck is right there, in that stupid fuzzy cardigan, and Eddie is so tired.
The drive from El Paso had been long and grueling, taking almost twice as long as it should have. Chris had been a trouper, had barely complained about the long hours stuck in a car, but he could also just shut his eyes and drift to sleep. Eddie had to captain his most precious cargo back to LA without losing a tire to a pothole or risking it all in a road rage incident.
They’d made it back late, too late for Buck to be grinning brightly from the glow of the porch light, but, of course, that’s exactly where he’d been. He was there and real and bursting with something that felt like home. He’d even smelled like home as he’d crushed them into a hug, Chris bursting into tears between them.
Three wet faces, five hugs, and an argument that Eddie was too tired to win later, they’d crashed onto a floor mattress (Chris), a couch (Buck), and a bed (Eddie).
Chris had insisted on going to school in the morning, so they’d been up bright and early and crusty-eyed — Eddie clutching his coffee like someone was walking around LA snatching keep cups from strangers. By the time he’d made it home from drop-off, Buck was deep in the trenches of unpacking all of Eddie’s shit, and a nap was off the table.
So Eddie is tired. He’s tired, and Buck is taking a break from unpacking/packing and he’s lying on the couch, in that stupid, cozy cardigan, reading a book like he lives here. Like he belongs here. Like a scene Eddie could come home to, and he’s too tired to stop himself.
He steps towards the couch, plants a knee beside Buck’s thigh, and throws the other over top of Buck's sprawling legs. Buck opens his arms in surprise as Eddie crawls on top of him, slotting himself into place like this is normal, studiously avoiding his eye the entire time. He ignores the pounding in his chest and lets his head drop onto Buck’s chest, lets himself feel the softness of the cardigan under his cheek.
Buck stills. Or, rather, he remains frozen. They don’t do this. Or, at least, they haven’t done this before. His breathing is steady beneath Eddie’s head, he’s just… still. Just waiting. Maybe for Eddie to say something or explain himself, but Eddie doesn’t. Eddie is tired and Buck is warm and soft and right here and he’s missed him and he’s here.
Carefully, slowly, Buck brings a hand to rest on Eddie’s back. It’s a soothing touch, and it’s exactly what he needs. In a move Eddie hasn’t been on the receiving end of in 20 years, Buck spreads his palm and drags it gently back and forth across his back. It’s sure and steady, and Eddie has to close his eyes to stop the way they sting. He feels Buck rearrange his hold on his book, leaning it against Eddie’s back with one hand as he continues to rub soothing patterns with the other.
Eddie is tired, and Buck is soft, and no one has rubbed his back since he was small, so he can’t be blamed for falling asleep on top of his best friend and his fluffy pink cardigan.
When Eddie wakes, he tries to pretend that he hasn’t.
The hand on his back has moved to his hair, sweeping vacantly through the strands. The hand — Buck’s hand — disappears, and Eddie has to swallow down a whine. He hears the turn of a page, then the hand is back, fingernails combing across his scalp.
Maybe if he pretends to be asleep for the rest of time, they can just stay like this. They wouldn’t even need to talk about it — Buck could just read his book, and Eddie could float above the couch with every touch of Buck’s fingertips. A win/win!
If Buck knows he’s awake, he doesn’t say anything. The pattern continues — hand in hair, hand not in hair, page turns, hand in hair. It could be improved only with a page-turning system that didn’t involve Buck’s hand leaving his hair, but Eddie is not about to complain. He does kind of need to pee, though, and Buck has probably lost feeling in his legs, so even though he wants to stay here, where it’s safe and warm and soft and smells like Buck, he sighs, and presses his face into the fabric of the cardigan beneath him.
Buck’s hand pauses ever so slightly, but continues to sweep through his hair as Eddie mumbles, “This’s so soft.”
“Mm,” Buck hums. He tugs gently at Eddie’s hair. “And this is fluffier than it looks.”
“Mm,” Eddie agrees. He opens his eyes and meets the back of his couch. “Good book?”
“Yeah. Really good.”
“Whatssit bout?” He sniffs.
“...Turtles?” Buck answers, too high pitched and hesitant to get past even Eddie’s lowered defenses.
Eddie doesn’t look up at Buck, but he does lift his head to look over his shoulder at the book resting on his back. It is, indeed, about turtles. “The same one you were reading last week?” He asks, eyes narrowed. “You said you were nearly finished.”
Buck shrugs. “I read it twice. You needed the sleep.”
“I nap trapped you,” Eddie blinks, waiting for the guilt to hit. He waits, but it doesn’t.
Buck chuckles. “I didn’t mind. It was nice.”
“Yeah,” he breathes, settling his head back down against Buck’s chest. It was.
Buck buries his hand back in his hair and Eddie never wants to move.
Eddie should move. He knows he should move. He should let his friend get back to packing or house-hunting or reading in peace. He just - - he doesn’t want to.
So he doesn’t.
“Did you know that green sea turtles are green because of all the algae and seagrass they eat?” Buck says, because he knows. He knows that Eddie doesn’t want to move, and he’s letting him stay.
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s really cool. Maybe I should get a turtle.”
“You cannot have a turtle in my house,” Eddie responds on instinct.
Buck chuckles softly. “Okay. No turtle.”
Neither of them mention that Buck won’t be living in Eddie’s house for much longer.
“No turtle,” Eddie agrees. “Sorry for kicking you out.”
Buck’s fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair. “I’ve never been happier to be kicked out of anywhere,” he whispers.
“Am I heavy?” Eddie asks. He already knows the answer — he’s 6 foot tall and all muscle — he’s heavy.
Buck chuckles. “No, you’re fine.”
“I don’t wanna move,” he confesses.
“You don’t have to,” Buck says. “You’ve done a lot of moving.”
“I have.”
“You can go back to sleep if you want.”
Eddie does want that. He wants that more than anything. Not because he’s still tired, but because he wants Buck to keep holding him without him having to talk about it or ask or look him in the eye.
He runs his fingers over the pink fabric of Buck’s cardigan and tugs at the edge of it. “Where’d you get this from?”
“Karen picked it.”
“You go shopping with Karen?” Eddie smiles. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes he learns something new about Buck. Almost always, it’s something that, impossibly, makes him love him even more.
“Yeah. Just once,” Buck replies. “After Tommy.”
“I like it,” Eddie says. “It’s cozy. Suits you.”
“Thanks.”
“Maybe I should go shopping with Karen,” Eddie ponders aloud.
“It was kind of intense,” Buck offers. “She had lots of very… passionate opinions.”
“Good opinions though.”
“Oh yeah,” Buck agrees. “I almost didn’t buy this and she said she’d never speak to me again if I didn’t. Even got the salespeople involved.”
Eddie snorts, smoothing his hand over the soft fabric. “She’s a smart woman. I’m glad you bought it.”
“Eddie Diaz,” Buck gasps. “Are you using me for my very soft cardigan?”
Eddie chuckles and tells the truth. “You looked so comfy. And I missed you.”
Buck sucks in a breath beneath Eddie’s ear. “I missed you, too,” he whispers.
“I really missed you,” Eddie adds.
“I really missed you too.”
“I think I missed you too much,” Eddie admits.
Buck’s hand stutters to a stop in his hair, but he doesn’t say anything. He maybe doesn’t even breathe.
“I don’t think it was supposed to feel like that,” Eddie adds softly, because he’s saying things now, so why not say it all.
“Like what?” Buck whispers.
Eddie runs his fingers over the soft wool of the cardigan and repeats, “I think I missed you too much.”
Buck lets out a shaky breath. “I think I missed you too much, too,” he says.
“You think I could pull off a cardigan?” Eddie asks. He’s not changing the subject, he’s just taking a breath. Letting the both of them come up for air.
“Oh, 100%,” Buck answers immediately.
“I like this one,” Eddie says, as if that isn’t crystal clear from all the face-planting and petting.
“You can have it,” Buck says. Of course he does.
“You’d give me your cardigan?” Eddie frowns, because Buck is ridiculous and Eddie can’t believe he’s real.
“I’d give you anything,” Buck responds. There’s no levity to it, no joke in it, but it wouldn’t matter if there was — Eddie knows it’s true.
“I don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this,” Eddie whispers.
Buck swallows. “The cardigan?”
“No.”
“Like what?”
“Buck.”
Buck runs a shaky hand over Eddie’s back.
“You have to tell me what you mean.”
“I don’t know what I mean,” Eddie answers honestly.
“Tell me what you think you mean,” Buck prods.
“I want to be here,” Eddie says.
“I want you to be here, too,” Buck says, rubbing his palm over Eddie’s back.
“I want to be here,” Eddie repeats, tapping at the space of Buck’s chest beneath his cheek.
“Okay,” Buck nods. “You can be. I want that.”
“I shouldn’t want to be,” Eddie whispers.
“Why?”
“It’s too much.”
It’s the wrong thing to say. He knows that before it’s finished coming out of his mouth. Buck pulls his hand back like he’s been burned.
“Okay,” Buck coughs. Tense, suddenly.
“Not you,” Eddie corrects.
“Okay,” Buck repeats. Empty.
“ Buck ,” Eddie presses. “Not you. The - - all of it. I missed you too much. Like I - - I need you too much. It all feels too much.”
Buck lets out a breath Eddie didn’t realize he’d been holding. It ends on a disbelieving laugh. “Eddie,” he laughs. “I moved into your house.”
“I know,” he whispers. He moved into Eddie’s house to help him out, and now Eddie’s back to kick him out, plus a friendship-ruining confession as a thank you. “I’m sorry.”
“No. Eddie. I - - me too,” Buck says, pawing at Eddie’s back. Pulling him closer. “I need you so much. I need you too much. I moved into your house .”
“Oh,” Eddie blinks, eyelashes fanning the pink wool beneath him. He can hear Buck’s heartbeat in his ear and he can feel Buck’s chest rise and fall with each breath and maybe he can actually have this. Maybe he can stay here forever.
“Yeah,” Buck adds, uselessly. That’s okay though, Eddie is feeling pretty useless, too.
“Tell me something else about turtles,” Eddie says.
“They’re like, really old,” Buck offers. “They’ve existed for something like 150 million years. How cool is that?”
If Eddie was looking at him, he knows he’d see his face light up with genuine awe about the old as fuck turtles. He’s probably grinning, probably already thinking of five follow-up turtle facts that Eddie can’t wait to hear, but they’re going to need to wait because Eddie really needs to pee.
“Can you still feel your legs?” Eddie asks, shifting his weight on top of Buck.
Buck wiggles a little beneath him, testing. “Not really,” he chuckles.
Eddie pokes him in the chest. “You should’ve told me to move.”
“I didn’t want you to move.”
“I don’t want to break you.”
“You can’t break me.”
“I think I almost did.”
“You didn’t.”
“I might.”
“You won’t.”
“I could.”
“I don’t think you would.”
Eddie shifts his weight, slipping into the side of the couch and freeing Buck’s legs from beneath him. Buck stretches out, and Eddie takes the moment to be brave. Well, he tries to be. He lifts his head, fully intending on making eye contact with Buck, but as he turns his head, he spots where Buck’s neck meets his shoulder and has no choice but to press his face into the safety of Buck’s throat.
Buck chuckles, and pulls him closer.
“Sorry for nap trapping you,” Eddie whispers into his skin.
“Don’t be. I - - don’t be.”
“I’m kind of scared to get up,” Eddie admits, even though the clock is ticking because he really needs to pee. Buck’s hands tighten in his hair.
“I’d be more scared of Christopher if he gets back from school and his computer is still in a box,” Buck whispers and oh god he’s right.
“Oh god,” Eddie blinks. “I need to find his headset.”
“It’s on his bed,” Buck says. “Found it with the kitchen stuff.”
Eddie is already overwhelmed. He’s already at max-capacity. He’s already saying things he probably shouldn’t be saying, so when the feeling — this feeling that is so uniquely, undeniably Buck spreads through him like butter melting into toast, he lets it fall right off his tongue.
“Is it - - am I in love with you?”
Buck chokes. Eddie’s face burns, but he doesn’t take it back, doesn’t try to snatch it from the aether. It’s a genuine question. He’s pretty sure he knows the answer, but it’s never felt like this. Big and all-consuming and undeniably present.
“Um,” Buck squeaks. “It is…for me. I’m - - I am. With you,” he stutters.
Eddie looks up and meets Buck’s eye for the first time since his knee touched the couch. Buck’s wide eyes lock with his and the rest of his life settles into place.
“Yeah?” Eddie breathes.
“Yeah,” Buck nods. He’s terrified. He’s so brave. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Eddie smiles. “I think so. I think I - - yeah.”
“I don’t know what to do now,” Buck whispers, blinking at Eddie.
“Me neither,” Eddie admits. “I think I’m - - yeah. I think I’m in love with you. I think that’s why it feels like this. Right?”
“Uh - - I. I don’t know,” Buck frowns, like there’s really any question at all. “Maybe?”
“Do you mind if I…?” Eddie doesn’t wait for an answer, but he gives Buck long enough to stop him before he presses their lips softly together. It’s barely a kiss, really, because the first touch of his lips against Buck’s throws Eddie off his axis and into a world where he’s someone who wants to kiss Buck and then does it.
He hums thoughtfully against Buck’s lips. “Yeah,” he confirms. “I think that’s it.”
Buck lets out the breath he’s been holding and along with it a sound like a wounded animal. He claws at Eddie, pulling him closer, breathing in his shampoo.
“Really?” He whispers, hands shaking where they’re running up and down Eddie’s back.
“Yeah,” Eddie smiles. “I want this. Do you want this?”
“I want you, Eddie, yeah. I want you.”
Eddie presses one, two, three quick kisses to Buck’s mouth, because he wants to, and he can.
“Do you know which box the computer is in?” Eddie asks, turning towards the walls lined with what’s left of their boxes.
“Did you label them?” Buck asks.
“His headset was with the spatulas,” Eddie dead-pans. “Obviously I didn’t label the boxes.”
“We’ll find it,” Buck promises. “Divide and conquer.”
“Can we make it pee, divide, and conquer? Because I really need to pee.”
“Oh thank god,” Buck sighs. “Me too.”
They find the computer in one box and all the necessary cords and cables in three others, and Buck must love him, because he doesn’t say anything about how terribly he packed.
Eddie is returning the towels he found in the box with the computer monitor to the bathroom when Buck appears in the mirror behind him.
He’s dressed in a plain white shirt, clutching his pink cardigan in his hand. He holds it out to Eddie.
Eddie raises a brow.
“Humor me,” Buck shrugs.
There’s actually nothing Eddie wouldn’t do if Buck asked, and Eddie does kind of want to try the cardigan on, so he does.
He snakes his arms through the sleeves and adjusts where it falls loosely over his chest and stomach. He looks in the mirror just in time to see Buck come up behind him, snaking his arms around Eddie’s waist.
He whistles. “Damn, Diaz.”.
Eddie chuckles. He shrugs. “It looks better on you.”
“No, look,” Buck says, adjusting the shoulders. “It brings out the pink in your cheeks.”
“That’s because you’re making me blush, Buck,” Eddie admits, turning in his arms. “That’s not the cardigan.”
Buck frowns at him. “Me?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yes, you idiot. You.”
“I make you blush?” Buck repeats.
“Can you not see how red my face is?”
“I thought it just - - did that.”
Eddie snorts. “I guess you would.”
“How long have I made you blush?” Buck demands.
“Buck.”
“Eddie! How long!”
“How long has my face been red when you looked at me?”
Buck frowns, and thinks about it. Eddie watches him do the math.
“Uh. Like seven years?” He decides.
“There you go,” Eddie shrugs.
“Eddie!” Buck gasps.
“You’re not getting this back now,” Eddie tells him, running his hands over the material. “It’s soft.”
“Don’t change the subject!” Buck gapes.
“It’s not my fault that you’re surprised. There’s a cheat sheet on my face.”
“I thought you just had red cheeks!”
Eddie shakes his head, exasperated. Fond. He kisses him. “Only when I’m looking at something pretty.”
“Oh,” Buck grins, delighted.
Eddie presses one more kiss to his lips, then his cheeks, then his forehead, before asking, “Okay. You want to take ‘unlabeled’ or ‘miscellaneous’?”
Buck blinks. “You labeled one miscellaneous , but didn’t think to label any of the others?”
“I realized they were all miscellaneous,” he shrugs. “Seemed redundant.”
“I’m never letting you move alone again,” Buck announces.
“Good,” Eddie grins. “Don’t.”
“And don’t get anything on my sweater. It’s dry clean only.”
“Dry clean only?” Eddie frowns, looking down at the cardigan. “How much did it cost?”
Buck swallows, scratching at his shoulder. “You don’t want me to answer that,” he admits.
Eddie squints. “What, like, $100?”
Buck looks away. “I can never tell you.”
“More??” Eddie gasps. “$200?”
“I’m not telling you,” Buck repeats, high-tailing it out of the bathroom and towards the rest of the boxes.
Eddie follows.
“Buck. What? No. It can’t have been more than $300. You didn’t spend $300 on a cardigan.”
Buck pauses where he’s lifting an unlabeled cardboard box. “That is true,” he says carefully. “It was not $300.”
Unfortunately for Buck, Eddie knows him better than he knows himself.
“It was more than $300 ?” Eddie gapes. “Are you serious?” Buck, inexplicably, carries the box into the kitchen. Eddie follows. “Buck?”
“I was going through something! You like the cardigan! Remember how much you like the cardigan?” Buck tries, stacking the bedsheets and winter coats from his box on the kitchen counter.
Eddie blinks at him, horrified. “You need to take this off me. I cannot be responsible for a $400 cardigan.”
Buck closes his eyes.
“ No ,” Eddie whispers. “More?”
Buck winces.
“Off. Off,” Eddie begs, holding his arms out like there’s a giant spider on his person. “You have to take it off. Oh my god. I drooled on your million dollar cardigan.”
Buck rolls his eyes, but he pulls the cardigan off Eddie’s flailing arms. “I think we all need to focus more on how much you like the cardigan.”
As soon as the cardigan is no longer touching him, he jumps back, keeping his distance. “Keep that thing away from me.”
“Sorry, baby,” Buck laughs, snaking it back over his own arms. “You’ve already drooled on it. Damage is done.”
Eddie blinks at him. He clicks his fingers and points. “This is why you have a terrible credit score.”
“Yep!” Buck grins brightly. “But you love me.” He hesitates. “You do still love me, right?”
Eddie rolls his eyes. He braves the distance between him and the cardigan — which is now unfortunately also the distance between him and Buck — and lets his hands fall beneath the cardigan to hold Buck’s hips. “Yes, Buck. I still love you even though you make terrible financial decisions.”
“I was in a time of crisis,” he mumbles. “Karen took advantage.”
“It is very soft,” Eddie admits.
“Yes, exactly,” Buck grins. “And you look very hot in it.”
“It’s a fluffy pink cardigan,” Eddie scoffs.
Buck shrugs. Grins. “I said what I said.”