#911.post

“you said you weren’t going anywhere.

“I’m a nester,” says Eddie flippantly. “I nest.” The words linger in Buck’s mind past the call and on the drive back to his apartment, through the door and to his bed. He lays down, staring at the ceiling. Then he opens Amazon and searches up throw blankets.

(In which the boys build a blanket fort and kiss inside it.) || 4.8K, T

oooooh you shouldn’t have asked me this anon, I’ve got WAY too many opinions—

i LOVE @blutterlie’s headcanon that buck runs SUPER cold, whereas eddie is always hot—makes for good cuddling scenarios!!

so buck likes to little spoon, just so he can mooch off of eddie’s heat <3

since eddie can cook now, they do dinner-making dates where they make one of abuela or bobby’s recipes together.

buck usually takes point, but soon eddie’s (almost) as good too, and sometimes they’ll have Chris sous-chef “so you won’t grow up to be thirty-something and only know how to make mac ‘n cheese, like your father.”

buck’s pet names for eddie: baby/babe mostly. the occasional “gorgeous” or “beautiful” because he’s a sap like that

but buck also DEFINITELY likes the stupid ones: pumpkin, sugarplum, studmuffin, etc—just, the most ridiculous names possible

eddie’s pet names for buck: also baby, but “sweetheart” & “angel” when he’s feeling tender. and I have a soft spot for “cariño” because I’m a sap like that

“Buck,” Eddie says firmly. “I’m okay.”

Buck freezes, then carefully sets down the pair of mugs he’d been carrying onto the coffee table.

“Buck,” Eddie repeats again, more sternly, and he reluctantly puts down the plate of pancakes, too. At Eddie’s raised eyebrow, he sighs and unloads the extra throw blanket he’d slung over his shoulder, as well as Christopher’s old hot water bottle, dumping them unceremoniously onto the table.

Okay, maybe Eddie’s got a bit of a point. Still, as he lowers himself down on the couch beside Eddie, he keeps his eyes winningly innocent.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eddie pins him with a sceptical stare, that piercing one that never fails to make Buck feel the slightest bit giddy—but no, that’s very much not the point.

“Eddie,” he frowns, giving up and slumping back against the couch. “You’re sick.”

“Then shouldn’t you be staying away?”

“I have a very strong immune system,” Buck says, and then, with a pointed gesture towards one mug: “Drink.”

Amused, Eddie brings one of the covered mugs to his mouth. “Feels like a sippy cup,” he murmurs.

“Keeps the heat in,” Buck says, relaxing. “It’s good for hot lunches.”

Eddie hums—or more accurately, croaks out a vaguely affirmative noise—and they sit in contented quiet as the Rangers play in the background, only occasionally interrupted by the odd cough.

Then: “You’re upset about this,” Eddie says suddenly, still nursing his mug. Through the corner of his eye, Buck sees those brown eyes fixed on him, and he fights down his instinctual flush.