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When Eddie met Buck, he knew the man was tactile; it was apparent within a week of knowing him. At that point, before they were really even close friends, he saw how close Buck was to everyone else, and it didn’t seem like anyone minded. Every now and then, Buck would drop his head onto Hen’s shoulder or lean against Chim when he was tired. Chimney would do the same, mumbling something about Buck being able to take Chimney’s full weight. On occasion, when Bobby wasn’t busy, Buck would sit next to him, and they would just talk, or Buck would read a book, and Bobby would be doing something else, talking with someone else.
The thing about Buck and his touchiness is that he knows when to back off, give a person space for a bit, or not touch them at all. Novak, a coworker who switches shifts a lot, likes her personal space. When they’re not actively helping someone for their job, she keeps at least a three-foot distance from pretty much everyone, and Buck knows that. It’s like he’s got pretty much everyone's mannerisms and preferences down to a T because, despite his slightly short attention span, he pays attention to everyone and everything around him more than people think.
At the beginning of their friendship, he always seemed a little apprehensive about Eddie, like he couldn’t figure him out. For a solid three weeks and multiple shifts, he never tried to reach out or put himself into Eddie’s space. He took it slow, pats on the back or the shoulder, the weird hand-fist bump thing they do. But then they started talking more, and it turned into Buck standing too close but not actually too close just because he could.
Suddenly it was whenever they sat next to each other, they were nearly pressed from shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, and Buck would lean on him for support when he was tired or after or a hard call or simply for the hell of it, and honestly and shamelessly, Eddie would lean back.
It’s been years since then, and there were bumps and breaks and fights, but he and Buck always come back to each other.
And Buck’s tactile acts have only increased tenfold.
Which brings Eddie to now, standing with Buck, talking to the newly returned Ravi, who Buck is ecstatic to have back, apparently, he has ‘so many things’ to tell him. Eddie just listens and hums every few seconds to let them know he’s still present in the conversation, even if he's half listening.
He’d be more interested in whatever they’re talking about If Buck’s skin and eyes didn’t glow in the sun.
It’s really distracting.
Ravi is saying something about working at the fire academy, and Buck is saying something in response, and Eddie is nodding along because that’s the polite thing to do.
And then he just feels Buck’s head just drop onto his shoulder.
Eddie thinks it must say something that Ravi doesn’t even blink, he just continues his conversation with Buck, and it probably says something that Eddie himself doesn’t even flinch, just takes Buck weight, lets the amusement of the idea of Buck, a 6’2” man leaning over to tuck himself against Eddie’s side.
He can probably say Ravi doesn’t react because it’s Ravi, and he’s used to them by now, he’s used to their antics, their weird relationship that confuses almost everyone they meet for at least a few minutes. Like Carrie’s mom from school, who was struggling to figure out if they were married, dating, or divorced because they didn’t share a last name and rarely showed up at PTA meetings together.
And again, Eddie doesn’t react because it’s just a thing they do. It’s the norm for them. Like he said, it’s them sitting closer than they need to, than anyone needs to. When Buck gets tipsy, and they take a walk because Buck is mumbling something about exercising to metabolize, and Eddie just goes along with it because he’s far too fond of the man to say no. It’s pressing close together, chest to chest, when they’re talking about something they don’t want anyone else to hear or when the room is too crowded and noisy to hear from even a foot away.
The thing is, the touches feel different lately, and Eddie knows he’s been clinging differently lately.
Probably because lately, Eddie has been trying to shove the massive amount of love and affection he has for Buck into every touch, every bush, and nudge.
He and Buck press closer with more intent than before, and Eddie isn’t shy about letting his hands settle on Buck’s waist in a crowded room or when he needs to pass by him in the kitchen. Last week he put both hands on either side of Buck’s waist and physically moved him to the side So Eddie could get to the pans.
He had no reason to do that.
Or a few days ago, when they went out to a crowded bar with a few work friends, and as they weaved through the crowd, Buck leading in front of Eddie, he had laced his fingers into Buck’s, who had his hand already resting behind him, like he was waiting for Eddie to take it.
Buck’s been leaning on him a little more, snagging Eddie’s belt loops more, keeps dropping his head onto Eddie’s shoulder whenever he feels like it, waiting in the checkout line at the grocery store because Buck cooks at Eddie’s house more than Eddie does, while they’re watching a movie, in the back of the firetruck to and from emergencies.
And now Eddie’s added ‘while talking to people about nothing in particular’ to the list that’s rapidly growing.
But at this moment, it doesn’t feel like something he can just chalk up to them being BuckandEddie. He feels too affected by the simple act of Buck resting on Eddie’s shoulder, putting a little bit of weight on him at the same time. He can’t stop feeling the phantom warmth of Buck’s skin against his.
He’s in his own head for the rest of the day, and he tries to keep his expressions and mannerisms the same, but honestly, it’s Buck, and Eddie wonders why he even tries.
“Hey,” Buck mumbles, his voice lazy and tired but inquisitive all the same. He’s draped over the couch, and he’s laying sideways so his legs can spread out over one side of the couch, and his head is pillowed on the cushion near Eddie’s.
Eddie tilts his gaze towards Buck, “Hi.” And then he just stares for a moment, letting his eyes wander from the small freckles that litter Buck’s nose and cheeks to his birthmark and then to Buck’s startling blue eyes that always seem to floor Eddie, no matter how many times he’s seen them.
Buck shuffles a little and ends up a fraction of an inch closer to Eddie. His voice is soft when he asks, “What’s up with you?” His tone softens something in Eddie. Until Buck, all he was ever used to was a tone of accusation like he didn’t have the right to be a little off-kilter once in a while.
Eddie shrugs, “Just thinking.”
Buck has a slightly pinched look going on, and Eddie wants nothing more than to reach out and smooth them out with his fingertips. “‘Bout what?” He mumbles and reaches out one of his hands to rest against Eddie’s arm, his fingers moving along the hem of Eddie’s sleeve, pulling at a loose thread.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate to breathe out, “You.”
He swears Buck almost falls off the couch.
Buck coughs and hauls himself into something closer to a sitting position, still just as close to Eddie as before. He’s a little curled in on himself, but not like he’s trying to hide, just like he’s trying to get comfortable. “Um, What about me?” He mutters, his legs mostly folded under him, except for the bottom part of his left leg, which is laid out and unrestricted. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, too, chin resting on the top of his knees.
Eddie loves him. So fucking much.
“Sometimes,” Eddie starts, “I think about how we are with each other,” He glances at Buck and shoots him a small, private smile, “and Buck, it’s so unbelievably non-platonic.”
Buck just blinks at him for a second, and then he’s moving again, uncurling so he can move just inches from Eddie, one hand still on Eddie’s arm and the other sliding across Eddie’s waist.
Eddie had already been sitting up more than Buck, so it wasn’t an awkward reach. Eddie’s breath doesn't even stutter, and honestly, he’s kind of proud.
Buck seems to study him for a brief moment, and Eddie wants to reach out and press the pads of his fingers against the two-day-old stubble Buck started growing. He does, and Buck’s eyes widen the slightest amount.
“Would that be a bad thing?” Buck asks, leaning his head into Eddie’s hand, and his skin is warm against Eddie’s cold hands.
Eddie probably shakes his head too fast. “No, no never,” he huffs and refuses to look away from Buck’s eyes when he says, “Of course not, I love you.”
Buck stops picking at the thread on Eddie’s sleeve, and Eddie has about three seconds to gauge Buck's reaction before Buck is moving forward and pressing their lips together.
Eddie doesn’t hesitate, he moves more into Buck’s space, pressing closer until he doesn’t think he could possibly get any closer.
Buck’s hands slide up to Eddie’s back and the nape of his neck, squeezing slightly when Eddie lets the kiss go a little, lets it become less coordinated, and lets himself smile into it.
Buck moves his head slightly to press his lips to the corner of Eddie’s mouth, and when Eddie can finally see the entirety of his face, he’s smiling, soft and content, like he wouldn’t rather be anywhere than tucked into Eddie on his couch at 11:30 at night.
“Buck,” Eddie mumbles, pressing his lips very briefly against the sharp line of Buck’s jaw. Buck hums, and Eddie soaks in the noise, “That took us too long.”
Buck shrugs, and Eddie finds the causal movement endlessly endearing. “Maybe, but we still got there, right?” Eddie nods, letting his hands settle on the side of Buck’s throat, the tops of his fingers finding the short hairs on the back of Buck’s neck.
“Oh,” Buck suddenly whispers after a moment of silence between them, “I love you too, more than anything, except for Chris,” he waves his hand between them, “but that’s like a given, so duh.”
Eddie laughs then, like a small giddy little laugh that gets Buck to gaze at him even softer than before.
“Yeah, Evan, that’s why I love you,” and Eddie revels in the blinding smile Buck gives him.