Work Text:
Buck falls asleep in Eddie’s truck during the drive home, which lasts about an hour longer because of an accident and rush-hour-related traffic. He had to call Carla fifteen minutes into the bumper-to-bumper wait when he realized he wouldn't be home in time to send Christopher off to his sleepover. At some point, Buck had turned his whole body, tucking his left leg up to his chest to watch Eddie from the passenger seat, letting his head tilt onto the headrest.
Eddie glanced over, and with his free hand that wasn’t on the wheel -mostly because he had nothing better to do with it- he moved the phone from his shoulder, tapped Buck on the knee to get his attention because he was trying to crane his neck to see the flashing fire truck lights, and handed it to him. Buck had raised his eyebrows but smiled when he heard Christopher's voice on the other end, albeit the smile was a bit tired and worn on the edges, but it was still something.
“Hey kiddo,” he had mumbled, face pressed against the leather seats. He couldn’t hear Christopher that well, but he could imagine his disgruntled huff at the nickname. Buck laughed, “I don’t care how old you are Chris, you’ll still be kiddo, and if you complain anymore I’m gonna start calling you that in front of your friends.”
Eddie slumped back in his seat and smiled ahead, tuning out the honking and sirens around them. A few minutes later, he felt a tap against his arm, and Buck held the phone out for him to take.
The call was over, and Eddie made a face at Buck, but he had just shrugged, “His friends were calling him, but he told me to tell you that he said ‘love you,’ and he’ll see you tomorrow around 11:30.”
Eddie huffed and took the phone, throwing it into the center console, “Demands, demands.”
They both let it go quiet after that, and the comfortable silence between them is only disturbed by the endless honking- because people won’t seem to give it a fucking break, as Buck put it so eloquently, before Eddie finally turned on the radio.
Eddie glanced over at Buck about thirty minutes into the wait to see Buck with his eyes shut, breathing slowly and definitely asleep.
Eddie had let his brows scrunch up, because it was kind of odd to see Buck just passed out. It wasn’t the first time he had fallen asleep in the car, hell Buck had fallen asleep in the rig before on the way back from a call, but Eddie certainly didn’t expect it this time.
He hadn’t seemed overly tired, just a little worn out in the way they all are after annoying shifts, and it had only been a twelve-hour shift, so nothing extremely grueling. As far as Eddie knew, Buck had been sleeping decently -normal trauma-related and thankfully less frequent nightmares aside.-
Of course, Buck could just be bullshiting him, and he’s actually been struggling for months without Eddie knowing, but after everything over the past few months, he considerably doubts that.
Granted, Buck had been doing that a lot lately. Passing out around Eddie at random points, y’know, taking cat naps.
Eddie has several pictures of Buck all over their houses and the firehouse. His personal favorite was Buck in his stupid armchair, legs thrown over the side and his head pillowed awkwardly on the back. Of course, it looked uncomfortable, and Eddie woke a mildly grumpy Buck up as soon as he was finished taking pictures.
He’s also got a picture of Buck asleep on the bunk room floor during a heat wave because, at the time, the bunk room floor was the coldest thing in the firehouse. Ravi is next to Buck in the picture, face down and giving Chim, who is somewhere off camera, the finger.
Despite his questions and vague worry, Eddie had decided he wouldn’t wake Buck up yet (like it was even a question in the first place).
As he finally makes his way onto a side road and out of the main traffic, he glances away from the road for a brief moment to see if Buck is still out like a light, and yeah, he’s dead and breathing out in a way that sounds vaguely like snoring.
He briefly considers driving around the block for a few more minutes to give Buck more time before Eddie is forced to wake him up. But he decides to turn off the car and sit in the driveway. He reclines his seat a bit and blinks that Buck’s jeep is parked next to his truck.
He ignores the way his heart feels when he thinks about how he and Buck have driven together to and from work for the past week, taking turns making dinner and doing grocery runs.
Buck shifts his left leg so that it’s stretched out more, but it’s probably stiff, and Buck is, like, mostly legs, so he doesn’t have much room to stretch in the passenger seat of Eddie’s truck.
Eddie reaches out, presses his fingers against Buck’s forehead, and lets himself smile when Buck’s whole face scrunches up.
"Buck," he mumbles, "Come on man, you're gonna be all sore if you stay like this."
Buck huffs out a laugh without opening his eyes and only does so when Eddie opens his door, which causes the cold air of early December to flow into the truck's cab.
He taps Buck again, this time on his cheekbone. "Hey," he says, tipping his gaze to catch Bucks.
Buck hums and lifts his head slightly, "Hi," he mumbles and narrows his eyes. "Takeout?" No elaboration.
Eddie grins, "Please," he clicks the buckle to Buck's seatbelt, "I'll get the bags and you get the menus?"
Buck nods and slips out of his seat, muttering something about how they have too many menus. It's Eddie's fault, honestly.
Eddie moves to get their duffle bags but stops with his hands around the straps. He looks up at Buck and says his name without really thinking about it.
"Are you okay?" He questions, trying to gauge Buck's facial expressions. "You didn't seem that tired when we left the station."
Buck opens his mouth and hesitates, eyes searching Eddie's own for a second before his expression becomes soft, and he nods. "Yeah, I just got bored waiting in the traffic."
Eddie nods and tracks the way Buck walks, looking for… Something- just any tell, even the possible slight slump of his shoulders or the tension in his back. Neither of which are there.
He lets it go and goes back to the duffle bags.
Only later that night, after Chinese takeout and a lousy rom-com, does Eddie decide to let it bother him again.
Buck is in the kitchen, doing the dishes, humming something that sounds a lot like It’s Raining Men by The Weather Girls. He’s scrubbing the dishes by hand, right next to their currently empty and working dishwasher, because he ‘enjoys the process,’ which Eddie finds ridiculously charming for some strange reason.
Eddie moves silently into the kitchen and leans on the counter before Buck even notices he’s there. But apparently, Buck does realize he’s there, because as he’s drying a plate, he mutters, “Hey, Eds,” without turning around.
Eddie moves his hand up to rest his chin on his knuckles and turns his probably too-soft gaze onto the back of Buck’s head. “I have a question.”
Buck puts the plate down and turns on his heels. A smile is pulling at the corner of his lips. “Ask away,” he makes a little outward gesture with his hands, his eyebrows raising just ever so slightly.
Eddie takes a second to rake his eyes across Buck’s face, ingraining every tiny scar and freckle into his memory, and he’s done that before, too many times to count, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever stop wanting to do it. He shifts on his feet, moving the hand he was resting his head on out towards Buck’s own hand instead. Buck takes the hint and meets Eddie’s hand in the middle between them.
Buck loses the smile he had previously been gaining and tilts his head to look Eddie in the eyes. “Eds,” his name is nearly a whisper on Buck’s lips, “What’s going on?”
Eddie takes a step forward and shakes his head too fast, causing Buck’s eyebrows to go even higher, but the worry lines between them disappear, so that's something, “No, no, no, everything’s fine, I swear.”
Buck huffs and tips his head down for a second, “Really,” He looks back up at Eddie, an odd mixture of confusion and teasing in his eyes.
“Yeah,” he starts, and then he’s slightly unsure how to finish because words were never his thing. They’re Buck’s thing, as much as he stumbles over his words sometimes, probably from nerves and the speed at which his brain moves, he really does have a way with them. Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand and decides to be candid about the whole thing, “Are you sleeping at night?”
Buck looks completely taken aback for a second, and he blinks rapidly. “Yes?” He opens his mouth and closes it before opening it again. “I mean, yeah, Eds, you know that,” he laughs a little, “I sleep on your couch, like every night. I’m fine.”
And he’s right. Eddie knows Buck hasn’t been waking up from nightmares screaming so loud that the neighbors hear. He’s been sleeping on Eddie’s slightly old and lumpy couch since his loft's condition recently went downhill, partially courtesy of his ‘shitty asshole landlord’ in Eddie’s words.
“I know that,” he agrees. “But it’s just that, you’ve been you know-”
“No, Eddie, I really don’t,” Buck adds in, more playful than before.
Eddie looks at him and continues, “You’ve just been falling asleep… everywhere for the past couple of weeks, and you did that before-” Buck squeezes his hand, “when you were barely sleeping at night.”
“I’m okay,” Buck whispers, shuffling closer to Eddie.
“Then why?” Eddie whispers back, searching Buck’s eyes.
“Eddie,” he mumbles, taking Eddie’s other hand in his own, “I only do it around you.”
He shakes his head and blinks at Buck, “What?” And he laughs a little.
Buck smiles slightly, “You make me feel comfortable and cared for. You make it easy for me to feel safe enough to just… rest, I guess.”
Eddie almost stops breathing, and he doesn’t think he’d rather be anywhere else than here, in his smallish kitchen, the dishes half done, his son's school work and art scattered across the kitchen table and hung up on the fridge, his best friend- the man he loves, standing in front of him and gazing at him so softly that it makes Eddie feel as though he’s going to melt in Buck’s hands.
And Eddie loves him. With everything in his heart, with his entire being, he loves him. He would raise the sun and moon for him. Would set the world on fire for him. Craves him like the air he breathes.
Eddie slides his hands up Buck’s arms, across his shoulders, and onto the back of his neck. He moves forward, pressing his lips to Buck’s forehead, and after a moment, he moves his forehead to Buck’s. Eddie feels Buck slips his hands around his waist, and it’s grounding.
“Eddie,” he hears Buck whisper once again.”
Eddie sighs quietly and moves to smile against Buck’s skin. “I love you,” he says, pressing close to Buck, “So much.”
“I know,” Buck murmurs, moving back to look at Eddie, “I love you too.”
“Yeah?” Eddie breathes out, almost like a question, but not unlike a confirmation of sorts.
He lets Buck kiss him, soft and sweet, and once again thinks he’ll melt in Buck’s hands if given the chance.
He bumps his nose into Buck’s, “Go on a date with me.”
Buck leans back and laughs, a wonderful, giddy laugh that could light up a room. “Of course,” he presses another kiss to Eddie’s lips, “Of course, I’d love to.”
Then Buck moves his hands up to drum his fingers on Eddie’s chest before pushing off of him with his fingertips.
Eddie is not a strong man, and he does, in fact, chase after Buck, following him across the kitchen and down the hallway.
The next time Buck falls asleep at the fire station, next to Eddie on the station couch, and Hen gives him a mildly worried, questioning look, Eddie just shrugs and lets the feeling of Buck’s steady breathing that almost reverberates throughout Eddie’s own body, calm him.