• it wouldn't be so crazy •

Eddie pushes his way into the room and steps on a toothbrush with the first step he takes—catching sight of the blue and green handle, he makes a mental note to replace it with a new one before Christopher goes to get ready for bed later. The toothbrush holder is rolling back and forth on the floor nearby, and the bath mat is rucked up under Buck’s soaked feet. 

Buck—dressed again in sweat shorts and a loose grey tank top—is leaning heavily against the counter with his wet hair curling over his forehead and dripping into his eyes. 

“Sit,” Eddie says, and Buck doesn’t protest as he sinks down onto the closed lid of the toilet and rests his forearms on his knees.

Eddie pulls a clean hand towel from the bottom drawer of the bathroom cabinet and drapes it over Buck’s freshly washed hair and begins by wiping the trickling droplets from his forehead and around the back of his neck before he starts rubbing gently through his hair. 

“So, 24-hour shift without me,” Eddie starts lightly, “How did you manage to survive?”

“Barely did, my body feels like jelly.” Buck admits and Eddie hears him swallow before he adds, “But this feels pretty good.”

Eddie makes sure to dig his fingers into Buck’s scalp just a little more and smiles when the other man leans into it heavily. 

He aches for him, for not being there with him today. Since returning from Texas, they've been on opposite shifts more often than not. With Bobby on extended leave post-containment breach slash government conspiracy, and Chimney and Hen alternately sharing the captaincy of the 118, Eddie has been filling paramedic shifts on a probationary basis until he can complete official training for the position, while Buck has been partnered with Ravi. It’s strange and hard and new, but still a better reality than the one they thought they were facing a few months ago.

“You wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks as he continues to rub the towel over Buck’s curly head. 

“Not really.” Buck says, “It’s the same old, same old, you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Eddie whispers, and it’s easy to guess what’s plaguing Buck’s mind. It could be anything from a call gone wrong, a kid, a wrong-place-wrong-time, an inevitable, an I’m-sorry-there’s-nothing-more-we-can-do.  

Eddie drags the towel back over Buck’s head, revealing his downcast face and the resigned slump of his shoulders. 

“Hey, come here.” Eddie urges and reaches to maneuver him, but Buck comes easily, leaning his head against Eddie’s hip as he winds his arms around Eddie’s waist and holds tightly. One of Eddie’s hands finds its home at the nape of Buck’s neck in the soft dip at the top of his spine, while his other hand wraps around his shoulders and holds him firmly against him. 

They stay like that for a long moment, Buck’s finger flexing in the material of Eddie’s shirt, Eddie’s finger carding carefully through Buck’s hair, separating his curls into winding ringlets on the top of his head and then scraping his blunt nails down the back of his neck. 

Eventually, Buck doesn’t let go so much as his arms relax so much that they end up draped around the backs of Eddie’s knees, his nose still rubbing at the hem of Eddie’s t-shirt. Eddie grabs Buck’s hands as he crouches down and holds them in Buck’s lap as they lean their foreheads together.

“I’m making beef stew. Bobby texted it to me this morning.”

Buck breathes out slowly, and the air rushes over Eddie’s lips. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah,” Eddie lets go of one hand and reaches up to cup Buck’s cheek, tilting his chin down so that Eddie can press one long kiss to his forehead. Buck hums in appreciation.

It’s new this thing between them, tentative and fragile but certain in a way very few things in either of their lives have been. They’re talking it slow, feeling out the corners and the edges of this newfound space and filling it slowly with hope and promise and so much love Eddie feels like he’s bursting with it. 

“I don’t think I can stand up yet.” Buck admits, “My legs still feel like jelly.”

Eddie chuckles and tugs lightly on the lobe of Buck’s ear. “That’s okay, you wait here and I’ll get you a sweatshirt.”

He brushes his hands over Buck’s broad shoulders as he stands. His skin is warm from the heat of the water, but the man shivers in his tank top. 

“Thanks,” Buck says, “Get the—.”