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Eddie thought things would be easier.
The difficult part was supposed to be the getting together, right? Because before that, there has to be the realisation, and the self-acceptance, and the confession, and all of that took work, damnit. But after that, being together? Being with Buck?
This is supposed to be the easy part. The honeymoon period, the happily-ever-after. The good times.
And okay, it kind of is. Being with Buck is everything Eddie could ever have asked for and more. He trusts Buck with his life, with his son’s life. He loves him, and he loves kissing him and going on dates with him and fuck, and Eddie loves loving him. He could love Buck every day for the rest of his life and it’ll still feel like the most miraculous thing. He hopes he gets to do that.
Except it’s also difficult.
The thing is that Eddie’s never really had a relationship go smoothly before. With Shannon there was the pregnancy and the rushed marriage and the army. With Ana there was the shooting, with Marisol the nun thing. There’s always been something to focus on outside of the two of them, always a third party to their relationship.
There’s no third party with Buck. Eddie doesn’t even need to worry if Buck gets along with Christopher, because he already knows the answer to that, and he’s well beyond caring what his parents think. Their friends are supportive, there’s no big crisis going on. It’s just Buck and Eddie.
And now that it’s just Buck and Eddie, Eddie has all the time and space to worry about it all.
It’s not that Eddie's never been affectionate before. He’s always been tactile with Christopher, and even with Buck as friends, they’d shared casual touches and hugs. But now? Now Eddie finds himself constantly gravitating towards Buck like a planet caught in orbit.
His fingers itch to reach out and brush against Buck’s arm when they’re standing side by side at the station. During movie nights, Eddie can’t help but press his thigh against Buck’s, relishing the warmth that seeps through the fabric of their jeans. When they're cooking together in the kitchen, Eddie’s hand lingers on the small of Buck’s back as he reaches around him for a utensil.
It’s like his body has a mind of its own, always seeking out Buck’s presence, always craving that connection. He’s never felt like this before. He feels hungry for it, like he’s starving every minute he has to go without Buck’s touch. He longs for it, wants a point of connection between them at all times.
But he can’t have that.
Eddie’s heart races every time he catches himself reaching out, his hand hovering in mid-air before he forces it back into his own pocket. He’s terrified that Buck will notice, that he’ll see the desperation in Eddie’s eyes and realise just how needy he’s become. That it’ll be the breaking point for them. The fear gnaws at him, a constant presence in the back of his mind.
What if Buck gets tired of it? What if he finds Eddie’s constant need for physical affection suffocating? Eddie imagines Buck pulling away, creating distance between them, his blue eyes filled with discomfort instead of the warmth Eddie’s grown accustomed to. The thought alone is enough to make Eddie’s chest tighten painfully.
He tries to rein it in, to control the urge that pulses through his veins. But it’s like fighting against a current, and Eddie finds himself drowning in the need to touch, to hold, to feel.
It’s difficult, knowing that Buck is right there, that Eddie could, in theory, just reach out and touch him. That he could lace their fingers together, lift his hand and press kisses to his knuckles. That his palm could rest on the small of Buck’s back, or on his shoulder or neck or thigh or anywhere, really, because Buck seems to love touch in all shapes and sizes.
That he could lean over and kiss Buck, soft and gentle and sweet, anytime he wants to. That Buck might even want him to do that.
It’s difficult, because while he could do all those things, he. Well. He also kind of can’t.
There are some practical concerns: no PDA while they’re at work for one, the fact that they’re both still discovering their comfort levels with public PDA in general for another.
The other concerns are slightly less practical. They’re the kind of concerns Eddie only allows himself to think about in the thickness of night, darkness a blanket around him, the space on the mattress next to him disappointingly cold and empty because Buck is spending the night elsewhere. These are the kind of concerns that feel a little too much like insecurity for Eddie to be comfortable confronting them, so he shoves them deep deep down most of the time, only letting them out when it’s safe like this.
These are the kind of concerns about how he can’t let himself do all of the things he wants to. About how Buck might leave him if he gets too much, too clingy, too greedy.
Eddie can’t let himself be greedy.
Eddie only has one bed.
This is nothing new, of course. He has a bed, and so does Christopher, and Buck used to sleep on the couch when he stayed over. That’s just the house layout, no guest room to be found.
And this arrangement made sense for a while, but then Buck and Eddie started dating, and it just feels kind of weird to have his boyfriend sleeping on the couch, you know?
Of course, Eddie knows that Buck wouldn’t mind. He’d be respectful of Eddie’s need for space, and would take the couch without complaining, even though Eddie knows that it can’t be all that comfortable.
But Eddie doesn’t need space. Not in that way, at least. Not because he’s uncomfortable with Buck sleeping right next to him.
Eddie needs space because he’s not sure he can control himself otherwise.
“Hey,” Buck says, stepping out of the bathroom, pulling his sleep shirt on. Eddie loses a second staring at his soft stomach and the way the shirt stretches over his pecs. “Are you okay?”
Eddie blinks, pulling himself out of his reverie. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, ready to go to sleep and yet so wired he can barely close his eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, but the words feel hollow, unconvincing even to his own ears.
Buck’s brow furrows, concern etching lines across his forehead. He takes a step closer. Eddie can smell his own body wash on Buck, can see the way his damp hair curls slightly. He loves Buck’s hair like this, curly and free, most of all.
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not comfortable with me staying here tonight, I can take the couch. It’s fine, Eddie.”
Eddie’s heart clenches at Buck’s offer, at his willingness to sacrifice his own comfort for Eddie’s sake. It's so quintessentially Buck, always putting others first, always trying to make sure everyone else is okay. And yeah, maybe this isn’t that much of a sacrifice, considering Buck has slept on the couch dozens of times before, but it still feels wrong.
Eddie doesn’t want Buck to sleep on the couch. Eddie wants Buck right here in bed, right next to him. He just doesn’t want to be greedy about it.
“No,” Eddie says, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. He clears his throat. “No, I don’t want you on the couch. I want you here. With me.”
Buck’s face softens, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Okay," he says simply, and moves to the other side of the bed.
Eddie watches as Buck pulls back the covers, sliding in between the sheets. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and Eddie can feel the warmth radiating from Buck’s body, even though they’re not touching. It's intoxicating, being this close to him, and Eddie has to fight the urge to reach out and pull Buck closer.
He won’t do it. He’s gonna be normal about this, he promises to himself. He’s just gonna take the comfort of Buck’s presence, that’s all.
Eddie lies down on his side of the bed, careful to maintain the distance between them. The sheets are cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat he can feel emanating from Buck. It’s like his boyfriend is a space heater. Eddie doesn’t really know how much of the heat is actually Buck, and how much he’s imagining.
They lie there in silence for a few moments, the only sound the soft whisper of their breathing. Eddie can feel the tension in his body, every muscle coiled tight as he tries to maintain control. He’s hyper-aware of Buck’s presence beside him, of every slight shift and movement.
“Eddie?” Buck’s voice is soft in the darkness.
“Yeah?” Eddie responds, his own voice barely above a whisper.
“Can I,” Buck pauses, and Eddie can hear him swallow. “Can I hold you?”
The question hangs in the air between them, heavy with meaning. Eddie’s heart pounds in his chest, desire warring with his self-imposed restraint. He wants nothing more than to say yes, to feel Buck's arms around him, to sink into his warmth.
But he hesitates, fear gripping him. What if he gets too comfortable? What if he asks for too much? What if Buck regrets it the second he touches him?
“Your hand,” Buck clarifies. “Can I hold your hand?”
Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Buck’s request is so simple, so innocent, yet it feels monumental. Holding hands while they sleep — it's intimate in a way that makes Eddie’s heart race. But it’s also safe, contained. It’s not too much. It’s not greedy.
“Yeah,” Eddie whispers back, his voice rough. “Yeah, you can hold my hand.”
He hears Buck shift beside him, feels the mattress dip as Buck moves closer. Then Buck’s hand is there, warm and solid, fingers sliding down his wrist before intertwining with Eddie’s own. Eddie lets out a shaky breath.
Buck’s thumb strokes gently over Eddie’s knuckles, a soothing rhythm that makes Eddie’s eyelids feel heavy. The tension in his body starts to melt away, replaced by a warmth that spreads from their joined hands throughout his entire being.
He had no idea that holding hands could feel this good.
“Good night, Eddie,” Buck whispers into the air between them.
“Good night,” Eddie says back, and he allows darkness to pull him under.
When Eddie wakes, he’s more comfortable than he’s ever been. The new comforter is soft against his skin, there’s a perfect band of pressure wrapped around his waist, and the pillow underneath his cheek is just the right density. Eddie remembers Buck saying he needed to replace his pillows and thinks he was wrong about it, because he doesn’t feel anything wrong with this one. It feels kind of perfect, actually. He lazily rubs his cheek against it, sighing in contentment.
“Good morning to you too,” a soft, chuckling voice says from somewhere above his head. Eddie doesn’t really register at first, but then his pillow moves, and there’s a soft pressure on his head, and everything clicks into place all at once.
Buck.
“Morning,” Eddie says back, already working to untangle himself. It turns out to be a rather difficult task, considering he’s wrapped up in both a blanket cocoon and a boyfriend who isn’t really cooperating.
“Hey, are you okay?” Buck sounds confused. Eddie has pulled back enough to be able to see his face. The remnants of a blissful expression are fading away, a hazy smile being replaced with a frown. Eddie wants to do something about it, kiss it away or smooth his fingers over it, let them linger on Buck’s birthmark, maybe, but he can’t. It’s already too much.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Eddie says, keeping his voice carefully neutral. He finally manages to extract himself from Buck’s embrace, immediately missing the warmth. “Just need to use the bathroom.”
He doesn’t wait for Buck’s response before he’s out of bed, heading quickly to the bathroom. Once inside, he leans against the closed door, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.
This is exactly what he was afraid of. Waking up tangled with Buck, feeling so comfortable and content that he almost forgot his self-imposed boundaries. It would be so easy to just give in, to let himself have this every morning. But he can’t. He won’t.
He can’t push too far. Because the more he pushes, the more he asks, the faster Buck will tire of him. The bigger the chances are that Eddie will be too much, too greedy. That this will end.
And fuck, Eddie would do everything if it meant he got to keep this.
After splashing some cold water on his face, Eddie emerges from the bathroom. Buck is still in bed, propped up against the headboard, looking at his phone. He glances up at Eddie.
“It’s still early,” he says. He’s right. It’s still dark outside. “Wanna come back to bed?”
Eddie yearns for it, to dive back under the covers, under Buck’s extended arm. He wants to wrap himself up in Buck until they’re one.
“Another time,” he says instead. He rubs his stomach, hoping the panic-induced nausea looks like hunger. “Think I’ll get started on some breakfast. Any requests?”
Buck’s face falls slightly, but he quickly masks it with a smile.
“Whatever you’re in the mood for is fine,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll come help you.”
Eddie wants to protest, to tell Buck to stay in bed and relax, but he knows that would be suspicious. So he nods and heads to the kitchen, Buck following close behind.
As they prepare breakfast together, moving around each other in the small kitchen, Eddie can feel the tension between them, but he does his best to ignore it.
Eddie focuses intently on cracking eggs into a bowl, whisking them with more force than necessary. The rhythmic sound of metal against ceramic fills the kitchen, drowning out the soft padding of Buck’s bare feet on the tile floor. He can sense Buck behind him, reaching for the coffee maker, the warmth of his body evident even from a few feet away.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee begins to permeate the air, mingling with the scent of butter melting in the pan. Eddie forces himself to breathe deeply, letting the familiar smells ground him. He sprinkles salt and pepper into the eggs, then adds a splash of milk, just the way Buck likes them.
Buck moves to the refrigerator, the door opening with a soft whoosh.
“We still have some of those strawberries from yesterday,” he says, his voice neutral. “Want me to cut some up?”
Eddie pauses his whisking, looking over his shoulder at Buck. The morning light streaming through the kitchen window catches on Buck’s unruly hair, turning it into a golden halo. His eyes are soft, questioning, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. In that moment, Eddie feels something melt within himself.
“Yeah,” he says, his voice coming out softly and full of love. “That sounds great.”
Buck’s smile widens, and Eddie feels something in his chest loosen. He turns back to the stove, pouring the eggs into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. Behind him, he can hear the gentle thud of Buck setting the strawberries on the cutting board, followed by the rhythmic chopping of the knife.
As they work side by side, the earlier tension begins to dissipate. Eddie finds himself relaxing, falling into the comfortable routine they’ve developed over months of shared meals.
By the time they serve the food, Christopher has stumbled out of bed, hair as much of a mess as Buck’s. They eat together, sharing jokes and plans for the day.
Things feel normal again, Eddie thinks.
But he can’t stop thinking about the feeling of Buck’s chest under his cheek.
It keeps happening.
At a Grant-Nash barbecue, Buck wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist like it’s second nature, not even pausing his conversation with Hen and Athena to do so.
For a second, Eddie feels himself lean into the touch. Then reality catches up with him and he moves away, muttering an excuse about grabbing a drink that’s probably entirely unconvincing, considering the full bottle of beer he’s holding.
He doesn’t want to bother Buck, though, and he knows he’s heavy. Better to leave him to it and remove himself before he becomes a burden.
After a long day at work, when they’re all slumped over on the couches, pushing through the last few hours of their shift, Buck slides over closer to Eddie and pulls his legs up in his lap. His hands rest on Eddie’s ankles, fingers of one hand rubbing back and forth on the little bit of skin between his sock and pants.
Eddie makes it through two minutes before he’s getting up, face red as a tomato and muttering something about getting a workout in.
Buck is tired enough already. He doesn’t need to be distracted by Eddie when he could be napping.
When Buck reaches for his hand in the supermarket, Eddie avoids him to push the cart instead, because he knows that Buck will want to browse through the shelves and he doesn’t want to be in the way.
Every morning, they wake up in the same bed, Eddie cuddling into Buck like he’s trying to merge their souls.
And every morning, he has to move away.
After a few weeks of this, Buck shows up at Eddie’s house unannounced.
It’s late in the evening. Christopher is in bed, hopefully asleep. Eddie has just been sitting on the couch, pretending to watch the football game that’s on instead of just wishing that Buck was here.
Buck isn’t here, of course. He’d picked up an extra shift, covering for someone on the b-shift so he could go to his daughter’s dance recital because that’s the kind of person he is, always willing to help others out. And after the shift, Buck will be going back to the loft, because Eddie hadn’t wanted to cling and invite him over yet again.
Except Eddie hears a familiar car pulling up, and his front door opening, and there Buck is, still in his uniform.
“Hey,” Eddie says, surprised.
“We need to talk,” Buck says instead of greeting him back.
Eddie’s heart plummets at Buck’s words. We need to talk has never preceded anything good in his experience. His mind races, trying to pinpoint what he might have done wrong. Has he been too clingy after all? He’s been trying so hard to give Buck his space, to pretend everything is normal and good and fine, but maybe he hasn’t succeeded. Maybe he’s been too much. Too greedy.
Buck’s face is unreadable, his usual open expression shuttered. There's a tightness around his eyes that Eddie’s rarely seen before, a tension in the set of his shoulders that speaks of exhaustion beyond the physical. His uniform is rumpled, the collar slightly askew, and there’s a faint smudge of soot on his cheekbone that he must have missed when cleaning up after his shift.
“Is everything okay?” Eddie asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He’s frozen in place, afraid that any sudden movement might shatter this moment, might ruin things for good.
“I don’t know,” Buck admits. He takes a step closer, one hand coming up as if to touch Eddie. Then he drops it. Eddie is grateful for the aborted motion, honestly. He doesn’t think he could handle contact right now. “You tell me, I guess. Are you okay? Are we okay?”
“Why wouldn’t we be okay?” Eddie shoots back, heart pounding in his chest.
“You keep moving away,” Buck says, heartbreak clear in his expression. “Is it- am I too much? Are you having doubts about us?”
Huh.
That’s not what Eddie was expecting.
No, that’s worse, actually. Because somehow, he’s been so careful not to let himself overwhelm Buck that it had tipped too far in the other direction. And now somehow, Buck thinks Eddie isn’t all in in this relationship, like this isn’t the best fucking thing that’s happened to Eddie since Christopher was born.
Eddie’s whole being clenches at the pain in Buck’s voice. He takes a step forward, instinctively reaching out to comfort Buck before catching himself and dropping his hand. The motion doesn’t go unnoticed by Buck, whose face crumples even more.
“God, no,” Eddie breathes out, running a hand through his hair. He has to resist the urge to tug on the strands between his fingers. “Buck, that’s not it at all. I'm not having doubts. I love you. I love us.”
“Then what is it?” Buck asks, his voice small and uncertain. “Because it feels like you’re pulling away from me, Eddie. Every time I try to touch you, you move. Every time I try to get close, you find a reason to leave. I don’t- I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”
“Fuck,” Eddie breathes out. “No, Buck, I- I’ve been going about this all wrong. I’ve been holding back because I want too much.”
“What?” The pain in Buck’s expression is slowly replaced by confusion. “Eddie, how could you ever want too much? What does that even mean?”
Eddie takes a deep breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wants so badly to reach out and touch Buck, to ground himself in the warmth of his skin, but he forces himself to stay put. This is exactly the problem he needs to explain.
“I want to touch you all the time,” Eddie confesses, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Every minute of every day, I want to be near you, to feel you. When we’re at work, I have to fight the urge to brush my fingers against your arm or rest my hand on your back. During movie nights, all I can think about is how much I want to pull you close and bury my face in your neck.”
Buck’s eyes widen, but Eddie can’t stop now that he’s started. The floodgates have opened, and everything he’s been holding back comes pouring out. He can’t hold back, not anymore.
“When we’re standing next to each other, I want to lean into you, to feel your warmth against my side. When we’re on the couch, I want to curl up next to you, to rest my head on your shoulder and feel your arm around me. I want to kiss you on the cheek and on the forehead and on your birthmark and I want your hands to be tattooed on me so they can’t ever let me go.”
“Eddie,” Buck tries, but Eddie shakes his head and keeps going.
“In bed, I want to wrap myself around you, to feel every inch of you against me. I want to wake up with my face pressed into your neck, breathing you in. And I want to stay there forever, I want to ignore all our responsibilities. I just want you, all of the time.”
Eddie takes a shaky breath, his hands trembling slightly. He feels exposed, raw, like he’s just laid his soul bare. But he can’t stop now. He needs Buck to understand. Because if he doesn’t explain this properly, then Buck will think he’s unwanted, and that’s the last thing Eddie wants to happen, like, ever again.
“And it terrifies me,” he admits softly. “I was afraid that if I let myself have even a little bit of what I wanted, I wouldn’t be able to stop. That I’d be too needy, too clingy, and you’d get tired of me. That I’d scare you away. And I don’t think I could survive that.”
Buck’s expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He takes a step closer to Eddie, close enough that Eddie can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“I’m gonna hug you now,” Buck says gently. He reaches out, telegraphing his movements so Eddie can stop him if he wants to.
Eddie doesn’t, of course. He just stands there, stock-still as Buck wraps his arms around him. He places his hands on Eddie’s back.
“Eddie,” Buck breathes out, one hand still spread out low on Eddie’s back and the other slowly making his way to Eddie’s neck, holding him close. “Why would I not want that?”
Eddie doesn’t say anything. He’s not sure what to say to that, really, so he lets his silence be the answer.
“Baby, I’m serious,” Buck says. There’s something about that term, about being called baby, that unlocks something deep in Eddie’s chest.
It’s not that he’s unfamiliar with terms of endearment. Actually, Eddie has used that very term himself on several occasions, though it always felt awkward in his mouth and sounded even worse coming out. It’s nothing like that for Buck, though, who lets it spill between his lips easily, who makes it sound so normal. So full of love.
Eddie wants that love, wants to cup it in his hands and bury his face in it, drinking it up until he’s full of it. He wants to hold it, wants to hold Buck, wants to be closer and closer until they merge into one, until Buck’s skin and blood and bones are his.
It’s not a new feeling. It’s not new, but there’s something about feeling it that’s changed. Before, Eddie would shy away from it, knowing that something like that wouldn’t be possible – and, by all accounts, is both too mushy and too gross of a sentiment to ever express – would lock it down and turn away and pretend it never happened.
He’d keep his distance.
This time, Buck calls him baby and cradles him close and Eddie feels like he might not have to move away.
He might just be able to breathe it in.
The conversation isn’t over, of course.
Eddie explains that he’s never felt this way before, this hungry for touch. He talks about how overwhelming it is, how much it scares him. How worried he’d been about accidentally ruining their relationship.
Buck tells him that the opposite is true. That he feels it, too, that he never wants to let go of Eddie either.
“That first night we shared your bed,” he says, curled around Eddie on the couch, “I asked if I could hold you.”
“Yeah, my hand,” Eddie says. “And then you did. And then I woke up all over you.”
“Eddie, I only said I wanted to hold your hand because you didn’t react at all to my first question. I figured it was a step too far, you know? That you weren’t ready for it.”
“I wanted it so badly,” Eddie confesses.
“And then I woke up with you in my arms, and it was everything,” Buck says. “But when you woke up, you pulled away immediately.”
“I guess I can see why you were worried.” Eddie toys with Buck's fingers. One of Buck’s hands is lying in his lap, the other wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Buck. I never meant to worry you.”
“It’s okay.” Buck kisses him, soft and sweet. “Just- if this happens again, can we talk about it?”
Eddie nods.
“Good.” As if on cue, Buck yawns. “Can I stay here tonight, or is that too much too soon?”
Eddie doesn’t even need to think about it.
“Stay here,” he says immediately. “Please.”
Buck pulls him in closer.
“Then I’ll stay,” he promises. “I’ll stay right here.”
When Eddie wakes, he’s more comfortable than he’s ever been.
He has his head pillowed on Buck’s chest, feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Their legs are twined together, one of Eddie’s hands is fisted in Buck’s shirt.
He sighs in contentment, rubbing his cheek against Buck.
“Good morning,” Buck says from somewhere above him, voice filled with love and adoration. There’s a soft pressure on Eddie’s head as Buck kisses his hair.
“Good morning,” Eddie says, only half awake. He releases his grip on Buck’s shirt and spreads his hand out instead, rubbing his thumb back and forth.
“It’s still early,” Buck says. “You can go back to sleep, if you want.”
“Good,” Eddie mumbles. He pats Buck’s chest.
Buck chuckles. He lifts Eddie’s hand to his lips, pressing the softest kiss to it. Then he drops it, but he keeps their fingers linked.
“Love you,” Eddie says, eyes already falling shut again.
“I love you too,” Buck replies, and then sleep claims them both again.
It keeps happening.
At the next Grant-Nash barbecue, Buck wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist like it’s second nature, continuing his chat with Bobby about grilling vegetables.
Eddie leans into the touch, reaching out with one hand to lace his fingers with Buck where they rest on Eddie’s waist. He joins in on the conversation to defend his method of grilling bell peppers, for which he’s only mildly shamed, and soaks in the affection quietly.
During a q-word shift, Eddie tosses his legs into Buck’s lap without asking, and Buck’s hands find their home on Eddie’s ankles, rubbing and tapping with gentle touches. They sit like that until the alarm finally goes off and they head out to, of all things, pull a cat out of a tree. Even then, their knees stay firmly pressed together on the ride there.
In the supermarket, Eddie laces their fingers together, resting their linked hands on the shopping cart. He lets himself be dragged along to all the aisles and products Buck wants to visit, because he’d rather take longer than let go.
Every morning, they wake up in the same bed, wrapped up in each other like they’re trying to merge their souls.
And every morning, Eddie presses in even closer, revelling in the feeling of loving and being loved.