Oh You Know From The Wee-Woo Show

thank you for sending it over, Scarlett! ❤︎ i was really in the mood to write something angsty but then i realised that i am incapable of doing so and i changed the concept, so here we are! hope you will like it dkljsad

i don't want to wait another lifetime (to say yes) | buddie | 1.7k words | ao3

Summary: On a random Wednesday night, Buck finds something that he should not have seen and he panics.

.

As Eddie starts to open the door to his bedroom, he hears a muffled yelp and something being slammed shut. He falters, hand still on the handle as he watches Buck rush towards the bed. With his eyes fixed firmly on the ground, Buck doesn’t spare Eddie a glance and slips under the covers. Which is weird but not extremely so. Eddie might have ignored it if not for the fact that Buck’s face is almost completely red.

“Buck?” Eddie asks, finally stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

Buck lets out a questioning hum, sounding only a notch higher than usual. He is furrowing his brows, eyes focused on the phone in his hand. Eddie might have believed the act, but Buck’s thumb is moving so fast across the screen that it would be impossible to read anything that’s on there. Slightly amused, Eddie takes two steps towards the bed.

“What happened?” once again he only gets a weird sound in response, this one sounding more dismissive.

Curious, Eddie stops, taking a quick look around the room. Nothing seems out of ordinary or any different to how it looked 15 minutes ago before he headed out to take a shower. There is a shirt sticking out of one of the drawers, probably from where Eddie took out one to sleep in earlier. For a second he thinks about going to fix it, but the bed is just one more step away and he can do it in the morning. So he turns back towards the bed and Buck.

Buck, who is finally looking up at him, his eyes wide and slightly glossy. Eddie’s earlier amusement dissipates almost instantly, replaced by worry.

“Buck, what’s going on?” trying not to panic, Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, facing Buck. “Are you OK?”

“Eddie," Buck starts, his voice small, "I swear it was an accident."

"What happened?" Eddie reaches over to take his hand, trying to calm both Buck and himself. "You're freaking me out a bit."

Buck's hand twitches in his, as if he is about to take it away. It worries Eddie even more. He starts to caress the back of Buck's hand lightly, but doesn't tighten his grip, leaving room for Buck to take his hand back if he really needs to. Eddie hopes he doesn't.

“I was just-,” Buck says and stops, his eyes jumping from Eddie to the dresser in the corner of the room. “I was just getting a shirt.”

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion, glancing down at Buck's naked chest briefly. “Did you… not find any?”

“I did, but I was looking for a particular one and then I saw-,” Buck stops abruptly and swallows. “I swear I wasn't snooping, it was an accident! I didn't mean to look, but it was right there and I- I could've tried to pretend that I didn't see it but we both know that I am a horrible liar and would spiral immediately. Which I guess I am doing anyway, but I am really sorry, Eddie, I should've-”

Blinking in confusion, Eddie just stares at Buck, listening to his little outburst and trying to make any sense of it.

“But wait, what did you find? Why are you so worried, where did-” Eddie looks around the room one more time.

He glances past the dresser, but the shirt sticking out of it, the white of the material a stark contrast against the dark wood, makes him do a double take.

Oh.

Oh, it makes sense now.

Eddie freezes. Buck must feel that and he slowly retracts his hand, placing it in his lap. He starts twisting his fingers together nervously.

“I’m-,” Eddie tries, but he is not sure what to say next. In hindsight, he might have expected that this could happen. “It’s not… You saw it?”

It’s not exactly what he wants to ask, but his brain is still processing the situation. Buck nods in response, “I saw the box and I just- I had a peek inside before I really thought about what I was doing- I put it right back. I am so sorry, Eddie.”

“What are you sorry for?” Eddie huffs out a small laugh.

“I probably ruined it, haven't I? You- you probably had something planned since you bought it and now I know about it and- I cannot promise that I will forget about it because I don’t think I am physically capable but I can try? If you want to, I-”

Shaking his head, Eddie shuffles on his knees towards Buck. It gives him a couple of inches over Buck and he cradles Buck’s head in his hands, tilting it upwards so he can look into Buck’s eyes. Those beautiful, bright blue eyes that look like Eddie’s future. Those eyes that are still slightly manic and filled with worry. 

“Do you want to get married?” Eddie asks, plain and simple.

“What?” Buck asks, eyes widening.

“Why are you surprised? You literally just found a ring in my drawer.”

“I- I don’t know?” Buck throws his arms up, clearly exasperated. “I think my brain has short-circuited when I saw it and then I panicked and-”

Eddie leans forward, pressing his lips to Buck’s forehead and keeps them there until Buck relaxes under his touch. Still smiling, Eddie moves away, but only so that he can look at Buck, “I noticed.”

“Well, I think that it is a pretty reasonable response after realising that your boyfriend is planning to propose!”

“Technically, he already did,” Eddie points out. “And he would be very grateful for an answer?”

Buck’s entire face softens and he smiles up at Eddie. “Eddie… We do not have to do it now. If you had something planned- I am sorry I spoiled the surprise. I can wait.”

Pressing a chaste kiss to Buck’s mouth, Eddie gets out of bed and walks over to the dresser. It is slightly more messy than he usually leaves it, but he wouldn’t notice, if it wasn’t for Buck’s confession. Eddie retrieves the box tucked into the back of the drawer and turns it over in his hands.

The point is… Eddie didn’t have anything special planned. Or well, of course he wanted to make it special for Buck. But the truth was that the ring was waiting in his drawer for well over a year. Eddie remembers very clearly the talk he had with Christopher, shortly after Eddie and Buck started dating. It was obvious for both of them that having Buck in their lives has made everything better. It was Chris who asked if Eddie was going to propose. “Better do it quickly. You might still scare him away with your neurosis,” he deadpanned as Eddie started rearranging the remotes on the table for the third time. A few days after that talk, they went together to pick out the ring and it had been tucked away in the drawer, just for now.

Eddie turns around and walks back towards the bed. Unceremoniously, he plants himself in Buck’s lap, his knees on both sides of Buck’s hips. Buck’s hands automatically come up to rest on Eddie’s waist and they both look at the ring box for a moment, before Eddie breaks the silence.

“I bought it with Chris like a month after we started dating,” Eddie says and grins at the look of utter shock on Buck’s face. “This is how sure we were that we want to keep you. But to be honest, I think I knew that from the moment we met. I was running from El Paso completely blind, not sure what we would find here in LA. But we found you. And it was like everything started making sense again.”

Buck sniffles, not even trying to hide the fact that he is crying. Eddie reaches with his free hand to wipe at Buck’s cheeks but his own vision gets slightly blurry, too. He pops open the velvet box, exposing a simple silver band with a sky-blue, rectangular gem in the middle.

“I didn’t propose before, because I wanted the moment to be perfect for you,” Eddie says. 

He feels shy all of sudden. His eyes are fixed on the ring, on the gem that matches Buck’s eyes perfectly, which was the reason why they picked it. Maybe he should have done it earlier, pick literally any other moment than this random Wednesday night, in his bedroom, with toothpaste stain on his shirt.

“Eddie…,” Buck says softly and his voice pulls Eddie out of his own head, making him look back up and into Buck’s eyes. And there is nothing other than love and joy there, Buck is beaming up at him, his cheeks wet with tears and Eddie thinks that he has never looked more beautiful.

“I wanted the moment to be perfect for you, but it was hard for me to pick one,” Eddie continues. “Because for me every single moment I get to spend with you is perfect. Every frantic morning, fighting with the kids for the bathroom and trying not to be late. Every lazy evening when you doze off watching the movie but you swear that you are not. Every nightmare of a day that I know I will be able to get through if I have you by my side. And every single thing in between. It’s all perfect because I get to share it with you. So I am sorry I waited this long.”

“I don’t care,” Buck shakes his head, cupping Eddie’s face in his hands and pressing small kisses to wherever he can reach. “God, Eddie. I would’ve waited. I love you. No matter how long it took, my answer would always be the same.”

“So just for the record, then,” Eddie laughs wetly, taking the ring out of the box and reaching for Buck’s left hand, squeezing it lightly. “You are the love of my life, Buck. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, Eddie,” Buck says. “Of course. I’m yours.”

.

I was tagged by the wonderful @bucksbabybelly on Monday (thank you thank you thank youu <3), and today I finally got some time to start revising my wip! So here is a freshly baked snippet of what was originally a short buckley-diaz family moment (and now it's grown more limbs than should be humanly possible)

The bed this morning is particularly soft, and surprisingly warm, a symptom of the quick tumbling approach of summer that seems more inescapable every day.

And, to be completely honest, one of the major perks of having acquired a human space heater as a bedfellow.

A particularly chatty bird that has taken residence in their recently built birdhouse is chirping in the backyard, and Buck realises distantly that's why he had been dreaming of fighting aliens with weird laser pistols—although, when the back of his hand clumsily rubs sleep from his eyes, the dream stretches and pulls apart like cotton candy and melts away.

Ever so slightly frustrated he slaps a hand on his phone, and sighs when it finally stops yelling at him to get up, shuffling a bit under the covers to properly resettle in his spot.

Maybe if he focuses enough, he can grasp the last tendrils of his fantastical night time adventures; he’s gotten into the habit of recounting them at the breakfast table for Chris to enjoy and later sketch. Buck has been storing all of Chris’ drafts of comics in a safebox next to the extra set of bedsheets—every handful of days, he gets to add a new set of panels and marvel at how quickly his personal style is developing.

And even if he doesn’t manage to remember the dream, he can still soak up the moment for just one more minute.

There's a familiar weight pressing down on his stomach, fingers clutching at his sleep shirt, and an ever so slightly damp spot over his collarbone where Eddie's face is resting.

Soft puffs of breath and messy ungelled strands are tickling him, and if Buck hadn't been dead tired, this would have probably woken him up before the alarm.

His lips tug up, tasting the phantom of mint now soured by sleep on the back of his palate—the remnants of the long gone cold tea Eddie had left on the bedside table for him—as his heart makes a valiant attempt at jumping out of his own chest.

Buck's chin turns to the side, angling towards Eddie before stopping abruptly. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't. And yet, he does.

In the syrupy sweet quietness of their shared bedroom, Buck can't help but twist his head properly, brushing his lips to Eddie's sleep mussed up hair—a barely there touch, a stolen indulgence that Buck allows himself only because Eddie is still contentedly asleep.

Eddie is definitely the earlier riser out of the two of them, but during recoveries he's the first to indulge in slow mornings and impromptu naps. Chris likes to joke about it being “unscheduled device maintenance”, and Eddie always squints at that, putting on a terrible British accent to demand Chris stop calling him a tool.

Buck's hand trails over the bandages still wrapped around Eddie's sides—without his own permission, a subconscious gesture that tickles the pads of his fingers—and settles on the soft jut of his hipbone.

Another indulgence masked as a health-related check-in: the hospital diet and forced bedrest have stolen the hard-earned softness from his features, and Buck can't wait to get his favorite—and most enthusiastic—taste-tester back.

Buck's caught Eddie staring longingly at the loaves of banana bread he'd made the previous week, only to vehemently shake his head when Buck had offered, citing doctor's orders with a tremble in his lip that had Buck almost tearing up. Almost.

There's only so much creative freedom involved in the preparation of the plain meals Eddie is supposed to be eating for at least the next couple of weeks, yet the mere concept of it being his responsibility is enough to satiate Buck's need.

Who needs fancy ingredients and varied flavors when he can pour his devotion in every plate?

That, at least, has seemingly not been upsetting Eddie's still recovering digestive system—or maybe it's just not enough for Eddie to taste.

ps: i recommend starting over again even if you read the snippet bc i added and edited some stuff. love and light <3

Eddie proposes on a Thursday.

Nothing particularly notable about the day itself. No anniversary. No holiday. No grand orchestration of fate. No celestial alignment. No significance carved into the calendar. Just late evening sunlight slanting gold through kitchen windows; the kind of light that makes everything feel softer at the edges than it really is, Christopher's abandoned homework spread across the table amongst Theo's colouring pages all half completed, the distant hum of traffic from outside.

And Eddie—Eddie standing in front of him with nervous hands and unbearably soft eyes.

Afterwards, Buck will remember every detail with startling clarity. The way Eddie's thumb catches against the velvet edge of the ring box. The slight hitch in his breathing before he asks. The warmth of the light painting him amber and gold, like something holy. The tv on low volume in the living room, more presence than sound.

Outside, Los Angeles moves on without noticing anything is about to change. Then, Eddie kneels in front of him. Not as a best friend. Not as a partner in the fragile, long built architecture of their lives. But as something more certain than either of those words ever managed to be on their own.

It isn't dramatic. It isn't loud.

It's Eddie Diaz asking him a question like it has always already been answered. Buck says yes before the question is even fully formed in the air between them. Because of course he does. Because there is nothing else in him that thinks to respond differently.

Four nights later, Buck lies awake, staring at the ceiling, next to Eddie, listening to him breathe as he sleeps on his side, one arm thrown loosely across Buck's waist like even unconscious he refuses to let go completely.

Buck turns the engagement ring around his finger, feeling the metal slide against his skin. Slowly. Thoughtfully. As if attempting to map the weight of the future pressing gently into his flesh. And somewhere in that quiet, it lands in him with a kind of startling inevitability: He does not want to marry Eddie as Evan.

The thought doesn't arrive like lightning. It arrives like the tide. Patient. Certain. Already in motion long before he ever noticed it coming in.

Because Evan hasn't ever really fit. Not fully.

Evan belongs to Pennsylvania winters and a too-big house filled with oppressive silence. To unremarkable report cards slid across kitchen counters without much interest. To trying and trying to become someone worth keeping around. Evan belongs to a person Buck barely knows how to be anymore. Evan has always been a name that felt slightly out of reach, even when it was his, like it belonged to someone standing a few steps behind him in a hallway he could never quite turn around fast enough to see. Evan was an identity forged in total emotional neglect, the name heavily burdened with a lack of validation.

Evan is hospital wristbands that itch against skin too sensitive for permanence. Evan is teachers berating him for having too much energy. Evan is the version of him that learned early how to make himself smaller so he would not take up too much space in rooms that already felt full without him. Evan belonged to a person standing a few steps behind him in a hallway, untethered and crying out.

The name Evan is like an old hand me down coat. Something acquired in childhood, the sleeves are way too short, the zipper is completely broken, the material is scratchy against the neck, and it fundamentally doesn't keep warm. But it kept getting worn purely out of habit, worn for so long that the assumption is this is what coats are meant to feel like, that they're supposed to feel uncomfortable in some sort of way.

But Buck—

Buck is the name Christopher shouted in glee across a crowded school parking lot the first time he spotted him after a hard day. Buck was Bobby's steady hand against the back of his neck after a difficult call. Buck is Hen laughing fondly under her breath after calling him an idiot. He's Maddie saying his name like relief. He's Theo's third best friend after Chris and Eddie—in that order. Buck is Ravi's eye roll and Harry's groan and sigh. He's Chimney ribbing him for no reason other than he can.

Buck is Eddie, half asleep and rough-voiced in the dark, murmuring sweetheart, c'mere. It's Eddie saying his name like it's something worth keeping.

That's who he is. That's the life he's made.

The dichotomy is incredibly stark. Evan is a given name, assigned without consent by two people who never really knew him or cared enough to try, and saturated with neglect. Buck is an earned name, a title built on the foundation of chosen family, community service, mutual respect, and profound love—all encompassing love; platonic, familial, and romantic.

Buck is the name actively populated with positive meaning, a custom tailored suit. It wasn't bought off the rack; it was meticulously hand stitched together by the people who love him. The people who see his value and don't think he takes up too much space.

buddie ✰ 18k ✰ rated M

buddie vs. the olive theory 🫒

didn’t know they were on a date

‎feelings realizations, pining, lots of flirting

guest starring: Wine Eddie

──── ‎𓌉◯𓇋 

“Alright,” Eddie shrugs, laissez-faire. He pulls Buck’s plate to the center of the table; pushes his own forward in kind. Then he begins a drawn-out circus routine of plucking an olive at a time up and out of the bowl and plopping them onto their respective dishes, one by one.

The delicate, repetitive movement of Eddie’s pinched fingers reminds Buck of picking the petals off of flowers. He loves me. He loves me not. He love—

An olive hits him square in the forehead.

“There,” Eddie says, resolute, as the pitted projectile tumbles to the ground at Buck’s feet. “Equal treatment.”

or

Buck, Eddie, and the olive theory. Well, in theory.

──── ‎𓌉◯𓇋 

Explicit | fembuddie | 3.7k | tags: established relationship, strap-ons, multiple orgasms, wet & messy, cockstrapwarming, pwp

Eddie wakes up sweating, her hair sticking to the nape of her neck, legs tangled in the sheets. Next to her Buck is naked, still sleeping, body overheated where Eddie's pressed against her, holding her tight, a palm spread over the relentless rise and fall of her ribcage. It’s early, the day barely started, and Eddie smears her damp face against the freckled skin between Buck’s shoulder blades, lips dragging, the salted taste of both of them on her tongue.

I have been writing this fic for *checks notes* one william years!!! I kept getting distracted by other things but she’s finally finished!!!

Happy Valentine’s Day ❤️ 💌🦞❣️💋🍒❤️‍🔥

Rules: Post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you want)

tagged by @glorious-spoon ty! I haven't written any fic in ages, as I've an 8k essay due in a few weeks, but it was nice to be reminded of my post mother's boy fic in progress. flouting the last line ethos to just post the whole thing as it's not much

Five steps into the diner, Eddie knows it's a mistake. They've only been driving a few hours, slow-going in this hunk of junk that starts rattling when they accelarate over 60. The radio doesn't work and the a/c only blows hot air, so they wound the windows down instead and after the last anti-clot pit-stop Buck curls against the door, tips his face into the breeze and closes his eyes. Eddie listens to the sound of his breathing, the snuffling snores Buck always lapses into when he falls asleep sitting upright, and when the road is quiet he turns to watch the rise and fall of Buck's chest. He watches the wind blow through Buck's hair, and the path the sunlight takes across Buck's face — bruised to hell and back, but under all the scrapes and cuts still the face that Eddie had thought he might not get to see again. And Eddie would gladly just kept driving, with Buck asleep in the seat beside him, but his arm is killing him and he hates taking painkillers on an empty stomach and there's a sign for a diner just up ahead. Buck doesn't stir at all when Eddie turns into the parking lot, or in the sudden silence that falls when he cuts the engine. Eddie sits a second longer to watch Buck breathe before he reaches over and lays a hand on Buck's arm. The effect is instantaneous. Buck jolts awake hard and fast

started writing this a while ago and have come back to it

Theo will be in this one just in case that’s not your jam, although not literally in this snippet. Buck and Eddie are crucially not together here:

Saturday slides into Sunday and Buck wakes up early, warm and for a moment content in the quiet before it all starts again. Theo and Chris, and Eddie if he's being honest, will be needing breakfast and then they have to drive Chris to his usual robotics club. He'll want to hang out with his friends later so there'll be the usual negotiation. Theo has swimming in the afternoon and Buck promised Maddie they'd take Jee to the pool too. They need to buy groceries and meal prep lunches and dinners for the week. Eddie was complaining that none of his shirts fit any more since he's bulked up some and he wants to go to the mall to pick out new ones but he might have to do that by himself while Buck is swimming with the kids and—.

'Stop thinking,' says Eddie, muffled against his pillow, his legs are tangled with Buck's and he points his toes, capturing one of Buck's ankles between his feet.

'I wasn't,' Buck says and Eddie turns more fully towards him, the sleepy dip of his lashes and his hair ruffled, smiling.

'I could hear it so loud it woke me up,' he says, craning his neck just enough look at the alarm clock on Buck's side of the bed, 'we have time.'

'Sorry. I know,' says Buck, eyes on the ceiling so he doesn't have to look at Eddie, all soft and warm in the bed they share, 'there's just so much to do.'

'And we'll do it together,' says Eddie, softly.

His hand finds Buck's side under the sheets, the broad span of his palm over Buck's ribs, his belly, skin on skin in the gap between Buck's t-shirt and his boxers. He shifts, pulling Buck towards him and it forces Buck to roll over so they're lying face to face, Eddie's arm hooked around him and his hand planted between Buck's shoulder blades. It's an embrace, there's no other word for it, hip to hip, sharing air and Buck's heart is racing so fast he's sure Eddie must be able to feel it.

“But what is love if not a sign of God's presence?"

cradle

16) fingers scratching at a scalp

The lights are off in Buck's house.

It sends a pang through Eddie, even though it's objectively not an indicator that something is wrong. Electricity is expensive. Eddie took Theo out to kid's soccer to give Buck a break. Buck is probably just taking a long-needed nap.

Still, his mind conjures up images of shuttered windows, fake smiles, Buck sitting alone in the darkness, Eddie getting into his car and pretending that everything is fine. It makes his hands rush slightly to his jean pocket, pulling out his keys.

Chris frowns at him, at the jangle of metal. The darkness in the house. He remembers, too. "Is Buck sleeping, dad?"

Theo has one hand on Eddie's leg, the other snagged in Christopher's hem. "Naptime?" he asks.

Eddie forces a smile. "Maybe, bud," he says, to both of them. "Let's keep real quiet when we go inside, so we don't wake him, alright?"

Two curly-haired nods, and Eddie twists the key in the lock, turns the handle.

Inside, the house is cleaner than it has been for a while. Eddie feels a fission of exasperation when he clocks how much time it must've taken Buck to put everything back in place, on a day when he was meant to be resting. Still, Buck hasn't put away everything -- a faded set of Duplo that used to belong to Chris half-built on the table, a little blanket emblazoned with dinosaurs spread out on the couch, tucking in a stuffed deer with such tender care that Eddie feels a swell of emotion in his chest.

Theo gasps when he sees it: "Mr. Buck!" he squeals, and takes off to the couch, clambering on to peer at the stuffed animal. Eddie smiles a little, involuntary, at the moniker, remembering the wide-eyed look Buck'd had on his face when Theo named his toy in the Build-a-Bear. Theo looks at Chris: "Chris, Mr. Buck is napping!"

Chris gets to the couch at a more sedate rate, sitting beside Theo. "Cool, Theo," he says. "Maybe we should let him sleep, then. Wanna watch some minecraft videos?"

And maybe Eddie shouldn't be letting Buck's toddler get sucked into internet videos, but Buck hasn't run out to sweep Theo into his arms and ruffle Christopher's hair the instant they started speaking, and the anxiety is rising to a fever-pitch inside of him. He nods at Chris and Theo, who are already absorbed around Christopher's tablet, and walks deeper into the house.

The bedroom door is cracked, and Eddie pushes it open gently. Inside: a bundle on the bed, a tuft of curls poking out from the sheets. Eddie's chest eases for a moment, before he walks closer and sees the sheen of sweat on Buck's forehead.

"Oh, Buck," the murmur falls from his lips gently, without thought. A shift, a flutter of lashes, then thin stripes of blue.

"Wha'...Eddie...?" Buck's voice is a rasp, his eyes squinted. A blink, then they go wide. "Eddie-- Theo? Chris?"

His limbs go askew as he whips up, and Eddie catches him by the shoulder as he lurches dangerously, a hand falling on Eddie's shoulder and holding tight. With his face fully visible, Eddie can see the dark shadows under his eyes, the pale tremor of his lips. He can also feel the heat from his body, thick and unnatural.

"Hey, hey," he says, holding Buck up gently. A hand on his shoulder, another at his waist, feeling the damp sweat cooling on cotton. "They're alright, they're in the living room."

"I should--" Buck blinks at him, half-dazed. "Dinner--"

"No way, Buckley," Eddie says, sweeping a thumb over his shoulder. "You should've texted when you realized you weren't feeling well."

"Thought--" Buck coughs, a rattling thing, and Eddie's hand sweeps down to his back. He eases himself down on the mattress, remembering the last time he was here. It's better, this time, even though it hurts the same to see Buck unwell. "Thought that I was just, just tired."

"Well, you have a fever," Eddie informs him, as if Buck can't feel the illness through his own body. "Doesn't feel too bad, but you shouldn't be getting out of bed."

"But..." Buck looks at him forlornly. "The kids..."

Something twists, soft and affectionate, at the phrasing. "I'll get them takeout. Theo'll be over the moon at pizza."

"Get--" another cough. "-- get some veggies. Gotta eat healthy." a sneeze. "Chris, too. A salad. Growing teen."

This man. Eddie's other hand comes up from Buck's side of its own volition, sweeping through his curls, fingertips dragging along his sweaty scalp. Buck hums, leaning into it, and Eddie does it again, again, again.

"Feels nice," Buck murmurs, swaying slightly. Eddie tucks Buck into his arms, slowly folds him down back into the sheets. He pulls the sheets over Buck's shoulders, again. All the while, his hand lingers in Buck's hair, dragging through slow and rhythmic, watching Buck's eyes slowly blink, then fall shut.

"Sleep, Buck," Eddie murmurs. And because it's Buck, because he probably won't remember, because it probably means nothing in this small, liminal moment, Eddie presses his lips to the salt-sticky skin at Buck's birthmark briefly, cataloguing the taste of skin and salt.

He watches Buck for a beat longer, allows his hand to linger in his curls for a moment more, before slowly withdrawing his fingers, getting up, folding himself back into the shape he's supposed to be. He looks around, down at Buck, starts making a list in his mind.

He should get Buck a shower, a change of clothes, change his sheets, tuck away this new, fragile moment into the recesses of his mind. But-- later.

Right now, there are hungry kids to feed.