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There isn’t even a conversation about it — after a shift like that, Eddie wordlessly hands him his keys, and Buck slips into the driver’s seat.
Oomph.
It’s the first time they’ve sat down in what feels like days — bones aching and muscles screaming and stomachs rumbling. There’s been no time to sit, no time to eat, no time to talk.
He can’t prove it, but Buck knows someone said the Q word. He fucking knows it.
At the worst possible moment in all of human history, someone said the Q word.
The journey to Eddie’s house passes in comfortable, heavy-lidded silence. It’s muscle memory — stops and turns and traffic lights he knows like the back of his hand.
They slump into the house, shucking day-old clothes, both too tired to shower without at least a good nap first.
Eddie disappears into his bedroom, groaning as he lowers himself into bed. Buck finds it within himself to splash some water on his face — as close as he’s going to get to his skincare routine after the busiest shift they’ve had in years.
He sighs deeply, utterly drained, and shuffles from the bathroom into the bedroom, collapsing on the other side of Eddie’s bed.
He gathers all the strength he can find within and shifts close enough to throw an arm over Eddie’s middle, shoving his face into his throat.
“I cannot believe you,” he mumbles, eyes already falling shut.
He doesn’t need to specify. Eddie knows.
Eddie hums, burying a hand in Buck’s curls. “Sorry,” he sighs sleepily.
“We’re together,” Buck yawns. “All the time.”
Eddie leans down to press a sleepy kiss to the top of his head. “Mm,” he agrees.
And Buck should let it go — he should leave it for tomorrow when they’re rested, and his brain can process anything more than the scent of Eddie Diaz surrounding him from head to toe. It’s just that - -
“At work,” Buck scoffs. His brain is so close to sleep, but he’s never been able to drift away without replaying the day over in his head, no matter how tired he is.
“Before work,” Eddie mumbles into Buck’s curls. “Tech - -” he’s cut off by a yawn, “ - - nically.”
Buck sighs. He snuffles closer into Eddie happily. He’s so comfortable, but he’s also so tired that he can’t feel his body.
“I can’t feel my body,” he says out loud, because he’s tired.
Eddie hums again. “I can,” he smiles. He twists their legs together, pulls Buck closer. “Still there.”
Buck hums in response. That’s good. Now that he’s mentioned it, Buck can feel Eddie’s body too — right beneath him, under his palms. He’s very tired, but not tired enough to waste an opportunity like this. He smooths his hand up Eddie’s stomach, over his abs, up to his chest, where he’s distracted by the feeling of his favorite beating heart.
He’s teetering on the edge of sleep — lulled by Eddie’s breathing and Eddie’s scent and Eddie’s heartbeat beneath his hand when - -
“G’night,” Eddie whispers. “Love y- -”
Buck, suddenly awake, slaps a hand over Eddie’s mouth faster than he’s done anything in the past two hours.
“No,” he gasps. There is no fucking way. “Eddie, don’t you dare.”
He feels Eddie smile beneath his hand. Instead of saying ‘sorry, Buck, you’re so right Buck, I will save my next insane confession for the morn when we are well rested and not at fucking work of all places’, Eddie, the little shit, licks his palm.
“Tomorrow,” Buck begs. “Tell me tomorrow.”
Tomorrow, with all the time in the world and no five-alarm fires and no cats stuck in trees and coffee and breakfast and functioning brains.
Eddie sighs dramatically, like it’s a real hassle to not completely alter Buck’s worldview for the second time in 24 hours.
“You have terrible - -” Buck starts, but he cuts himself off with a yawn. “Terrible timing.”
“Sorry,” Eddie says, muffled, from beneath Buck’s hand. He doesn’t believe he means it, but Buck still lifts his hand. “Do though,” Eddie adds the moment he’s free.
“Eddie!” Buck groans.
Chuckling, Eddie grabs Buck’s chin and tilts it up toward him. He grins, tired eyes dropping to Buck’s lips. Buck’s eyes narrow. “No.”
Eddie pouts. “Please?”
“We haven’t even talked,” Buck reminds him.
“So?” Eddie yawns. “Don’t need to.”
If Buck had any working brain cells to spare, he’d be delighted to discover that this is what it’s like to be in mutual, requited love with Eddie Diaz. Alas.
“No,” Buck reiterates. He needs to be able to remember at least some of this — to have the time and the wherewithal to make it a moment. “In the morning,” he begs. “Please.”
Eddie looks at him, amused, and so, so tired, and presses his lips to Buck’s birthmark instead. “In the morning,” he concedes quietly.
Buck wakes up exactly where he’d drifted to sleep — both of them tired enough to have zonked out hard and fast and heavy. He doesn’t even remember when he closed his eyes.
Eddie stirs beneath him, stretching. “Mornin’,” he mumbles. “Love you.”
Buck can’t help himself — it’s not what he meant, it’s not the kind of moment he thinks Eddie deserves, and yet — he grins. In the warm light of day, he’s giddy with it. “You’re incorrigible,” he smiles, tilting his head up. Soft brown eyes are already twinkling at him. “I love you, too,” Buck sighs, pretending to be put out. “Even though you have terrible timing.”
Eddie grins down at him. “It’s the morning!” He insists, like he’s not doing this on purpose.
“Okay, Mr. Hey Buck, Real Quick, Just Before Our Shift Starts, I Have Feelings For You. Romantically,” Buck recites. “I didn’t even get to say anything back!”
He’d tripped over his own feet no less than 12 times, eyes locked on Eddie as he tried to remember how to get into his turnouts and scramble into the engine.
Eddie shrugs. “You looked like you wanted to explode the tones with your mind,” he chuckles, eyes dropping back down to Buck’s lips shamelessly. “I wasn’t worried.”
Buck huffs. “Can you at least wait until we’ve brushed our teeth before you kiss me?’
Eddie hums, considering. “I could,” he acknowledges, pushing at Buck’s shoulder until he lands on his back. Suddenly, Eddie is everywhere — the only thing he can see. “If you really, really want me to,” he adds, kissing up his neck. “If that’s,” he kisses his left cheek. “What,” he kisses his right cheek. “You,” he smooches into his forehead. “Want,” he presses gently to the end of his nose.
The little shit.
Buck is but only a man. He tilts his head up, blushing, millimeters away from Eddie’s lips, when their alarms ring out.
Eddie drops his head into Buck’s neck, laughing.
Buck groans, swatting his arm out aimlessly in search for his phone. Both alarms are still blaring when Christopher yells:
“DAAADDD? I CAN’T FIND MY SOCKS.”
A giggle erupts from Eddie where he’s still pressed against Buck’s neck. Buck starts giggling, too.
“Socks,” Eddie repeats, flopping off of Buck and onto his back beside him. “We’ll try again after socks.”