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It’s unexpected is what it is.
It’s somewhere around three in the morning, and Buck is in the bathroom brushing his teeth. The door is cracked, and the bathroom nightlight makes the room feel more cozy than any bathroom has the right to be. Buck scrubs at his teeth a bit more aggressively than usual, willing away the insane images of his pearly whites falling out of his mouth that his brain had so rudely conjured up while he was trying to sleep. He’s brushing his teeth so thoroughly that he had even taken his shirt off before he started so he didn’t end up covering it in toothpaste.
Which, in retrospect, he’s very glad he did for a lot of reasons, including the fact that he’d had to wipe off his chest multiple times.
(He was still half asleep, don’t judge.)
So, really, it was completely unexpected.
Buck spits in the sink one last time, setting down the little plastic water cup with a soft click that feels final. His mind is finally satisfied, no more images of crumbling molars flashing behind his tired eyes. Leaning toward the mirror, he shoots himself a wide, sleepy smile just as the bathroom door creaks open. He flinches back, one hand gripping the edge of the sink to keep himself upright while the other flies up to catch the door.
It’s just Eddie, and Buck opens his mouth to say hey, it’s ok, go back to bed, but the words die on his tongue as he spots the fear in Eddie’s eyes. It’s quick, there and gone before Buck can really react, replaced by relief that Buck barely registers before Eddie is slotting himself against Buck’s chest and tucking his face under Buck’s chin.
He feels shaky arms wraps around his waist and he is now so very awake because there is so much skin. Eddie is also shirtless and Buck feels like he might spontaneously combust as his hands clench against the door and sink, unsure of where they can or should move to.
He looks back at his reflection in the mirror, taking in his own shocked face. Eddie’s hands twitch, fingers digging into the muscles next to Buck’s spine, and Buck’s eyes slide down to linger on the bare expanse of Eddie’s back. He looks like an artist’s rendering of a man, every muscle highlighted in sharp relief as they tense and twitch. Buck is still unsure of what’s happening, but Eddie is all but trembling so he reacts in the only way he knows how.
“Hey, you’re ok, I’ve got you,” Buck whispers. He can barely hear his own voice, but his mouth is right next to Eddie’s ear as he tips his head down, curling around Eddie. One hand slots into Eddie’s hair, and Buck has a half thought about how buttery soft it is as his other arm wraps around Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie’s skin is almost hot to the touch, still bed-warmed but also nightmare-sweaty. “I’ve got you. Everything’s ok.”
Eddie lets out a muffled, almost pained sound that Buck only really hears because of how close they are. Buck just squeezes tighter, and that turns out to be exactly the right thing to do as Eddie shudders and starts to relax in his arms. It’s not right away, but Buck can feel him start to settle the longer they stay there, the tension visibly melting from Eddie’s back and shoulders as the minutes tick by.
The adrenaline of surprise finally fades and Buck starts to fall back into the drowsy, almost woozy half-asleep haze he had been in before Eddie appeared. He relaxes a bit, and the hand that was in Eddie’s hair slides down to rest on Eddie’s shoulders as his cheek slowly smushes into Eddie’s temple. Eddie hums at the movement, and Buck blinks more awake with a deep breath as he feels Eddie’s hands clench against his back again.
“Bad dream?” Buck asks, voice low and rough with sleep. Eddie hums in the affirmative before taking a deep breath, air huffing against Buck’s collarbone. “You wan’ talk ‘bout it?”
“No,” Eddie huffs after a moment, hesitating like he can’t decide if he wants to talk or not. “I just needed to make sure you were ok.” Buck gives him another squeeze.
“I’m ok, Eds. I was about to to head back to bed.”
“You weren’t on the couch,” Eddie mumbles.
“Nah,” Buck half-laughs, “I had that dream where all my teeth fall out again so I had to come brush so I can go back to sleep.”
Eddie is silent for a moment before he lifts his head and pushes Buck away slightly, both hands moving to grip Buck’s biceps. Buck’s hands settle on Eddie’s waist on instinct. “Your what now?”
“My teeth dream,” Buck says, tipping his head to one side and squinting at Eddie as he speaks. “Did I not tell you about that?”
“No, you did not tell me about your teeth dream.”
“Oh, well, I have this dream where all my teeth fall out sometimes.” Eddie rolls his eyes, and Buck laughs softly before continuing. “I’ll be chewing on something and then all of a sudden my teeth just crumble apart like those chalk crushing videos, no blood or anything. It’s really weird, and the only thing that helps is aggressively brushing my teeth for like a week afterwards. Like, four times a day kind of aggressively.”
Eddie just blinks at him.
“Buck, that’s insane.”
“Some people say that it symbolizes communication issues.”
“What people? White people? That sounds like some white people shit.”
“Doctors, actually. I don’t know if they’re all white or not.”
“Doctors? Doctors, are saying that?”
“Some psychologists and some dentists, yeah.”
“I don’t think I trust a dentist to interpret dreams.”
“That’s what the psychologists were for.”
“Then why were the dentists there in the first place? If the point was to interpret teeth dreams and the psychologists were there for that then why were the dentists there?”
“That’s a really good question, Eddie. I do not have an answer for you.”
Eddie lets out a little disgruntled sound, like he’s genuinely upset that there isn’t an answer to his question. He’s so invested, and Buck can tell that it’s partly because of how tired he is and partly because Eddie wants to focus on literally anything other than his nightmare right now. He’s still holding onto Buck’s biceps, his big hands two hot brands on Buck’s skin. He is very, very aware of how big Eddie’s hands are at the moment. He is equally as aware of the location of his own hands where they rest gently on Eddie’s perfectly carved, underwear-model waist. Buck can feel every shift of muscle under his palms as Eddie breathes, and his half-asleep brain supplies Buck with the idea of just how easy it would be to pick Eddie up by said immaculate waist and plunk him onto the counter next to the sink.
Instead of doing exactly that, Buck blinks and asks, “Are you feeling any better?”
Eddie heaves a sigh instead of answering, looking down and away toward the towel rack behind Buck. The huff of breath sends a cascade of goosebumps across Buck’s chest, and if he wasn’t so focused on the shift and pull of muscle under his hands, Buck would be much more focused on how much he wants Eddie to breathe on him again.
Chill the fuck out, Buckley. Be so fucking chill right now. What the fuck was that. No, you cannot pick him up. Chill, please. Chill, chill, chill, chill, chill, so chill.
Buck is failing at being chill at the moment.
It’s almost like his hands aren’t attached to his body when he feels them squeeze Eddie’s waist, bringing his attention back from the towels. Eddie sucks in a soft gasp, like he was falling asleep and the pressure of Buck’s hands woke him up again. He looks back at Buck with soft eyes, finally calm after whatever had so rudely awakened him. It takes a second, and Eddie eyes wander across Buck’s chest before he blinks hard and meets Buck’s gaze again.
“We should go back to bed,” he mumbles, and his eyes flick back down to Buck’s chest. Before Buck can react, Eddie’s left hand gently trails up his arm and across his shoulder to rub at the sensitive skin just above his collarbone at the base of his neck. It sends a shiver down Buck’s spine before he can stop it and Eddie gets a satisfied glint in his eye as he finally pulls his hand away and Buck spots the remnants of toothpaste on his fingertips before he wipes them on the hand towel.
“You’re feeling better?” Buck hears himself ask again, and he watches Eddie nod and smile a little before he finally pulls away and steps out of the bathroom. Buck moves to follow, batting at the light switch on instinct even though it’s already off. He laughs to himself, blinking hard and shaking his head to try and keep himself awake for long enough to get back to the couch, but as he turns toward the living room, Eddie’s fingers hook around his wrist. It’s barely a whisper of pressure, the absolute bare minimum amount of force, but it stops Buck in his tracks regardless. He turns back to Eddie, expecting one last question or a final ‘goodnight, bud’ or something of the sort, but instead he’s met with an uncertain side profile. Eddie isn’t facing him. He’s turned mostly away, towards his own bedroom, his gaze locked somewhere on the wall. Buck watches as Eddie’s mouth crumples up like he wants to say something but can’t.
Buck waits him out. He’s still half asleep, but he can give Eddie a few more seconds. This feels…important somehow. The air is charged, not in a stressful way, but in that lingering, ‘it’s four am and everything is too quiet and also too loud’ way. Like one wrong move would shatter the moment and leave Buck staring at the ceiling until the sun rises, unable to sleep for reasons unknown.
They stay there for a moment, hanging in the silence of the not-quite-morning. Buck sucks in a deep breath, opening his mouth to say something, anything really, but the words die on his tongue as Eddie tugs on his wrist. It doesn’t compute. The thing that Eddie is wordlessly asking doesn’t fit right in Buck’s mind and he’s frozen, there in the hallway. He feels like his feet have melded to the wood floor with the weight of implications, but Eddie is magnetic and when he tugs on Buck’s wrist again—harder this time—Buck leans into him like a tree in the wind, feet only moving to catch his weight when he leans too far. Eddie just keeps tugging, pulling Buck along with him as he shuffles back to his room, somehow tired and determined all in one.
Eddie doesn’t turn the light on when they finally enter the bedroom, and Buck hasn’t been in here enough to know where the furniture is by heart. He stops just inside the doorway as Eddie’s hand gently lets go of his wrist, fingers trailing down his palm like he’s savoring the feeling.
“Wait here,” Eddie whispers, his voice barely more than a breath. Buck can hear him moving around the room, the soft brush of hands against wood and fabric being moved the soundtrack to Buck’s rapid blinking. He’s trying to get his eyes to adjust, but it’s just too damn dark in here and Buck just keeps blinking and blinking and blinking until there’s a hand in his again. A gentle, guiding touch that silently brings him around the room to the far side of the bed. A barely-whispered ‘get in’ accompanied by a push to his shoulder. Buck’s hand is pressed to the mattress and for reasons unknown to him he follows the instructions, finding the blanket that’s already turned down with blind fingers and slipping underneath it. He settles on his back, staring blankly at a ceiling that he cannot see as he listens to Eddie’s footsteps as he rounds the bed again.
Then, the mattress dips, the blanket shifts, and a warm body slots into place next to Buck’s. Eddie wiggles in place, getting comfortable, and Buck tries to focus on his breathing. They’ve done this before, back during lockdown, but the circumstances were different then. Back then, they had been at the loft with Hen and Chim below them and no walls in between. Now? Now they were alone in this room, door closed, Chris snoring down the hall, and Buck is in love with Eddie.
Huh.
Buck is in love with Eddie.
That’s kind of a shitty thing to realize right now.
Buck feels his heart rate start to pick up, anxiety sending a chill through his body, but before he can truly react, Eddie grumbles and shifts next to him, drawing his attention. He rolls away from Buck first, settling on his side facing the door with a huff. Before Buck has a chance to consider anything, Eddie grumbles again, rolling over to face Buck, brushing their arms together as he shuffles his pillow around. He settles a bit more this time, letting out a sigh that is almost content. Buck is still catching up, still trying to decode the situation and his mind all while fighting the sleep that looms over him. The bed is comfortable, soft and warm and cradling his back perfectly like it’s trying to persuade him to fall asleep.
He’s about to give in, closing his eyes and taking one final deep breath as he relaxes into the mattress, but Eddie seems to have other plans. He grumbles again, like he’s still not satisfied, and Buck is about to volunteer to go back out to the couch when Eddie scoots closer. He grabs Buck’s wrist, ducks under his arm, and curls against his side, all in one fluid motion. His head is cradled in the divot between Buck’s shoulder and chest, his left arm is tucked between their bodies, his right sliding around Buck’s waist to draw him closer while his right leg hooks over Buck’s hip, his foot digging into the gap behind Buck’s left knee.
Something settles in Buck’s chest at the same time that Eddie lets out a content sigh. It’s perfect. They’re exactly where they’re meant to be. Two unfinished puzzles that click together to complete the image, each of their pieces fitting into the gaps of the other. Eddie relaxes against Buck’s side, going limp and heavy with a soft hum. Buck’s arms move without his conscious thought, wrapping around Eddie like he’s something precious. Like Eddie is his to cherish and protect.
If Buck wasn’t so tired, he’d be caught by how easy it is to lay here with Eddie in his arms. He would spiral about how wrong it is to do this—to hold onto Eddie like this—when he’s just realized how non-platonic his feeling really are. But he is tired, and it’s nearing four thirty in the morning and he’s toeing the line between consciousness and unconsciousness as he floats in this bliss that he’s found.
He’s about to give in to the pull of sleep a second time, barely aware of anything but the line of heat against his side when Eddie takes a deep breath and says something. Buck doesn’t catch it, but something about the situation makes him wake back up. Maybe it’s the broken silence, or the sudden tension in Eddie’s arm, or maybe it’s just how well they know each other. It could be a lot of things, but Buck is more awake now than when he first walked into the bedroom and the new silence that’s around them feels important.
“What did you say?” he whispers, his right hand sliding up from Eddie’s shoulder and into his hair.
“I asked if you were awake,” Eddie says, voice low and gravelly.
“I am,” Buck hums, indulging himself as he turns his head to bury his nose in Eddie’s hair. He takes a long, slow breath, savoring the woody smell of Eddie’s shampoo.
“Can I tell you something?” Eddie asks, quieter than before, almost nervous.
“Of course,” Buck rushes to answer, pulling Eddie closer. Eddie does the same, flexing the arm around Buck’s waist. “You can tell me anything, Eds.”
Eddie takes a breath like he’s going to say something important and then…doesn’t. He holds that breath for a moment, the silence getting heavier and heavier as the seconds tick by. Buck waits him out, slowly falling back into a tired haze as his fingers trace mindless patters on Eddie’s forearm where it’s wrapped around Buck’s waist. He waits and he waits, letting Eddie come to him—letting him speak when he’s ready.
It’s worth the wait. It’s always worth the wait when it comes to Eddie.
“I think I—“ Eddie starts, trailing off like he’s still unsure of what words to use. He heaves a sigh, jostling both their bodies as his rib cage expands dramatically. Buck does the same, and it breaks the tension that had developed, drawing a soft laugh from Eddie.
“We’ve got time,” Buck says, whispering the words into Eddie’s hair. “You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to.”
“I want to,” Eddie huffs quickly. “I do, I just—It’s hard to say out loud.”
“Ok,” Buck hums, more awake now. “Do you want me to try and guess? Then you don’t have to actually say it?”
“That sounds like it could end badly,” Eddie laughs, soft and gentle, full of joy.
“Nah, not necessarily,” Buck says, jostling Eddie shoulder with the hand on his arm. “We could play twenty questions and I can narrow it down from there. That way I’m not just pulling guesses out of my ass.”
Eddie laughs again, louder this time. It’s too dark to see it, but Eddie’s smile is wide and fond where it presses against Buck’s shoulder. He settles further into the mattress, pressing harder against Buck’s side as he wiggles his left arm under Buck’s lower back, holding him tighter.
“Ok, go ahead. Ask away.”
“Alright,” Buck says, settling in as well as he pulls Eddie closer, more on top of Buck than he was before. The weight of him settles something else in Buck’s chest and he lets out a gentle sigh before continuing. “Is it something about Chris?”
“No,” Eddie says firmly, “It’s always easy to talk to you about Chris.”
“Good, I’m glad,” Buck says, preening a little at Eddie’s insistence. “Is it about work?”
“Again, no, I can always talk to you about work.”
“Okaaaaay.” Buck drags out the word, going for a laugh. He gets it, just like he wanted, and he can feel the rumble against his side. He waits for a moment, basking in Eddie’s happiness before asking, “does it have anything to do with the dream you had?”
“Yes and no,” Eddie says. Buck stops himself from asking for clarification and Eddie continues. “The events of the dream? No. The person in it? Yes.”
“Who was in your dream?” Buck asks softly. He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear it from Eddie. He could be wrong, but there really isn’t another explanation for everything that has happened tonight.
“You,” Eddie whispers. His voice is back to barely nothing, like he’s scared of the answer. But he isn’t. Buck knows he isn’t. He knows by the weight against his side and the gentle, even breaths against his collarbone.
“Is it about me moving out?” Buck’s question comes out at barely a whisper. They haven’t really talked about it, at least nothing more than Eddie saying he doesn’t have to leave.
“…not really,” Eddie says, hesitant. Buck’s brow furrows and he goes to ask another question but Eddie cuts him off. “I don’t want you to leave, and that’s a big part of it, but it’s not the main issue. It’s just related to it.”
“Ok, so it’s about me, but not directly about me moving out.” Buck sits with the information for a moment, trying to zoom out and get the whole picture. He hums in consideration as he thinks back to earlier tonight, yesterday, this past week, all of this month. He tries to recall all of his interactions with Eddie, trying to find some glaring issue or hole or phrase that stands out or task he forgot or anything that seems…off. Incorrect. Different in some way.
“Why did you come to me after your dream?”
“I just needed to make sure you were ok,” Eddie says, repeating his earlier words. They’re clearer now, not choked by fear.
“Did I die in your dream?” Buck asks, and something clicks in the back of his mind and he thinks he has it. He thinks he knows but he can’t get optimistic, he can’t look the answer in the eye.
“Yeah.” Eddie breathes out the word like he can’t put anything else behind it. His voice still breaks on the single syllable. “I didn’t know—I needed to—I haven’t had a dream like that since you were in your coma. I can’t—I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I still have nightmares about the shooting,” Buck whispers, the confession falling from his lips without warning. “I don’t know what I’d do without you either.”
Eddie sucks in a sharp, shaky breath and Buck knows—he knows exactly where this conversation is going and he wants to turn around, he wants to look away and go back a few hours because what if something goes wrong? What if it doesn’t work and everything is ruined and the closest thing he’s ever had to a family and a husband and a child of his own is gone in the blink of an eye and he can’t do anything about it. He can’t stop it or change it or fix it—he’s supposed to fix things but it’s him and he always fails at relationships and there’s too much at stake because this isn’t just a stranger, it’s Eddie and he’s so deeply intwined into Buck’s life that they can’t tell where one starts and the other ends and it’s impossible to untangle it all and if it doesn’t work he would shatter into a million tiny pieces and—
“Buck?”
Eddie breaks through the spiral with one word. Buck returns to his body and he’s tense, locked up with anxiety that he didn’t even notice. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to relax as he focuses on the gentle swipe of Eddie’s thumb as it caresses his side.
“Yeah?”
“Where did you go?” Eddie asks, voice small and worried.
“I—I think I figured it out,” Buck answers, “but I’m scared I’ll mess it all up.”
“I’m scared too,” Eddie says, more confident now. “We can be scared together.”
Buck decides then, that the excitement outweighs the fear. The love outweighs everything else. They can figure it out. They can fix it together.
Like they always do.
“I love you, Eddie,” Buck says, “I’m in love with you.” It feels like a weight has been lifted off of his chest. Like he’s finally himself—really and truly himself now that he said it out loud.
“Oh thank god,” Eddie sighs, slumping against Buck like his strings have been cut, going from leaning over him to fully laying on him. “I love you, too. I love you so fucking much.”
Eddie nuzzles into Buck’s neck, pressing a smile into his skin, and Buck can do nothing but laugh. He’s just so happy, so full of joy and elation that it’s literally bubbling out of him. He feels delirious, like he’s high on dopamine as he lays there with the love of his life. He can feel the rumble of Eddie’s own laughter where their chests meet, an echo of his own happiness that reverberates back and forth between them like a pair of mirrors, an infinity of an infinity of an infinity of love and happiness that neither ever expected to find right in front of them.
Their laughter finally peters out, fading into synchronized breathing that quickly brings them both back to that half-asleep haze from earlier. Eddie’s arm is still pinned under Buck and they both seem to realize it at the same time, Eddie’s arm twitching as Buck moves to half-sit up, curling toward Eddie to relieve the pressure.
“We should probably find a more comfortable position,” Buck says, his eyes trying to find Eddie’s in the darkness. He is unsuccessful.
“I have an idea,” Eddie mutters, slipping out of Buck’s grasp to stand on his knees as he guides Buck into position. Eddie pulls him closer to the center of the bed, pushing his arms away from his body as he hums under his breath. He lets out a huff once he’s satisfied with limb placement, and Buck feels more than sees him maneuvering the blanket over his shoulders. It’s the only warning he gets before Eddie slides on top of him, gently laying himself on Buck like he’s one big pillow. He slots between Buck’s legs like he was made to be there, pressing his ear to Buck’s chest as he settles his arms against Buck’s sides, cradling his ribs in his hands. Buck’s arms come up and wrap around Eddie on instinct, one hand carding through his hair while the other draws slow circles on his back. Eddie lets out a content hum, sounding like he’s already mostly asleep. Buck is right there with him, learning in this very moment that pressure like this calms his brain like nothing he’s ever experienced before.
“You comfy?” he mumbles, clinging to the last threads of consciousness just to hear Eddie’s answer.
“Yeh,” Eddie answers, voice muffled by Buck’s shirt and the blanket that he’s pulled almost completely over his head. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” Buck sighs, just as sleep takes him.
It’s the best night’s sleep he’s ever gotten.