#buck or Carla could’ve walked in on him with Chris

[littlespoonevan]

had a thought this morning that Eddie could’ve broken up with Marisol in 7x05 and his 7b storyline would’ve still been the exact same 💀

[halinski]

I have a lot of feelings about Buck, like don't even ask, I will never be able to put it into words or anything other than abstract feelings in this world

I just know this, Eddie loves Buck and Buck is ace and Taylor is a relapse ✌️

"You've been shutting me out."

It's ironic, Eddie thinks, that these exact words come now 20 minutes after the black out, which felt like maybe the world had shut down. They were stuck mid rescue in an elevator and well, the world had been such a whirlwind since he'd been shot, and this emergency and that- but now it had stopped. And they'd succumbed to their fate, sat down on the dingy elevator floor, bathed in a red back up light, the building silent around them. Out there, somewhere, a siren rang, and Buck sighed.

It was deep and heavy, like he was Atlas lifting the world off his shoulders for a break, something like relief, like that first deep shuddering breath when your lungs finally recovered from a run. It was way too heavy for a young man, barely thirty, who was finding himself. Eddie knew that Buck had been fighting lately. Mostly himself, but also his parents and past, and pushing past the boundaries of life that had been set around him. Then there was the shooting and Buck had truly been nerve-wrecked, Eddie was far from blind, and hell, he'd been a little preoccupied with figuring himself out, and recovering, letting go and paving the way for a future with no regrets- but he'd seen Buck. It was harder to look away at this point.

But he had, because the world had been spinning and Buck had been putting enough pressure on himself, becoming an uncle, and taking care of Chris with full abandon, and therapy and... Taylor. Eddie hadn't wanted to push too hard.

Now that they were here though, just the two of them...

Buck's looking at him, that irritated lost puppy stare, vulnerable and defiant all at once, like Eddie was the first to venture into certain spaces that made up Evan Buckley. It was a deliberant choice, at this point. Back in the beginning, he'd just reached out a hand and had been surprised to find an anchor to the world he'd never knew existed, and now he ventured further deliberately.

It hadn't been a question, and even so Buck looked ready to fight him, a last defensive wall, before he caved and those murky blue eyes dropped away. Full submission.

Eddie waited, opening up the room and hoping for his partner in crime and rescue to fill it and yet... Buck only shrugged weakly.

"Things have been..." He started half-heartedly, losing motivation half-way through and concluding with a disheartened, "busy." Eddie watched him busy himself with the callouses on his palm, picking and rubbing, as if he could erase the last few weeks of running himself ragged.

There had definitely been a lot less mentions of calls to Dr. Copeland lately, a lot of unfocused Buck, who was making himself smaller, less noticeable and quieter. Not that he was actually quiet, Eddie knew Buck could fill the building with vibrance for the benefit of everyone around within the blink of an eye. But his true emotions dwindled, where they'd slipped out before in shadows of an action, or an obvious plea hidden in drowning eyes - now he was more... Calculated.

And even now, Buck lifted his head again under Eddie's scrutiny in square-jawed surrender as if that was that to this conversation, there was nothing more to be done.

Eddie was not convinced. They'd gotten way too far, the two of them, to slip back down to the trenches in this mud slide. Eddie had found solid footing in his own world, and he was unafraid right here, under private eyes with the one person in the world he trusted most. Solid enough that he could stare right back at the nervous energy Buck was holding back and dare it.

What are you so afraid?

A question he had asked himself many sleepless nights, especially after Carla's little "follow your heart" speech, after he'd laid in bed, heart racing, hearing shots and all he wanted had been to-

All he'd wanted was safety, and he could've kept lying to himself, could've deliriously shouted at the universe that he didn't know where he could ever feel safe again, and yet his own body and heart had long gone betrayed him that day in the hospital just before he'd walked out, explicitly stating that he had signed his heart off to Buck a year ago. He couldn't even call it betrayal, because there wasn't a single cell in his body that doubted his decision, that doubted Buck. He just doubted... Himself.

And maybe that he'd be enough for Buck right now, still. He was so far from his best self, and yet better and more stable than he'd ever been. So he sat and he stared back, arms resting easily in his lap, and challenged.

"Why do you keep going back to her?"

Goddammit, Eddie, way to sound like the most jealous jerk in the world.

Buck winced, eyebrows seeming to ask 'really?' and 'what do you mean?' all at the same time and then shrugging again.

"Taylor?" He asked simply, biding time probably.

"Yeah," Eddie assured, the hum of the emergency light their only company as he waited for Buck to reply.

"She's the only one who really wants me," he said, but the tone of his voice wasn't right. Unconvinced. The admission to easily offered to ring true.

Eddie can't stop the snort of disbelief from escaping him. From all that he's heard about the rust-haired reporter... He couldn't imagine what Buck saw in her. He'd seen the effect of her words on him, saw Buck fall in line behind her with a bowed head, saw how the hurt now flared in Buck's face at his open faced challenge to that statement.

A part of Eddie wanted to grab Buck by the face and scream at him, can't you see?!

You're wanted whole-heartedly by me.

But Buck wasn't his to love yet, not really.

"Look, I don't know what you see on the outside but... She wants me. She chose me and I- what more could I ask for, you know? I'm... I'm working on it. On myself. And for now- this is it," Buck said, rattling it down like he was trying to work it into a checklist.

Eddie just wanted to know what 'it' was supposed to mean. But he nodded, because in a way it did make sense. The same way Ana had made sense, even though she absolutely didn't and he was glad that was over and he could laugh over that foolish affair now.

People had questioned his change of heart when he broke up with her during recovery, but when they'd realized he truly wasn't heartbroken and backsliding, they had taken it in full stride. A little misstep, no great scars taken (well except for the new bullet hole in his shoulder but that didn't really have anything to do with Ana, it just happened to be a part of the same journey heading toward a joined destination) and here they were at a pit stop.

The silence simmered between them, just somewhere right before the cliff, staggering before the precipice toward their comfort zone. It had always taken a little leap from both sides to get them to where they were today. Buck usually happens to fall into his without thinking much, just because he was ready to throw himself in dangers way or alternatively, rushing in out of sense of duty, and making it seem so, so very easy. The way he had walked into Eddie's house and kitchen, stepped right into his space and said: 'i'm here and I'm owning my mistakes because you're worth it' or something of the sort. All Eddie remembered was the care and the genuine emotion he'd felt and... The realization that he'd finally found home.

"It just feels like... You smile less when it comes to her." Eddie still did't really want to say her name. He wasn't about to go out blaming Taylor for all the times Buck was sad- it was just an observation. It took a lot to get Buck to giving up his smile. He hated that Taylor accepted a watered down version of him; bright, bold, and boasting Buck.

"Do I?" Buck asked, a furrowed crease appearing between his eyebrows, truly confused.

Eddie nodded.

"Relationships are always a compromise," Buck offered with a half-hearted twitch of his shoulder. "You know me. We're both pretty stubborn. We butt heads."

Buck flicked his wrist for a useless gaze at his watch. It made them none the wiser about the state of their rescue.

"Yeah, I know you," Eddie retorted gently. "Though, you do tend to have a point."

He could come up with a million examples. Eager, always ready to show up and make it work, Buck. How many times had he burrowed himself into Eddie's skin already with truths that stuck like thorns until Eddie accepted them into his bones.

All he wanted was to return the favor

The man granted him a small, crooked smile. It was crazy how much so little could mean to one person. Desperate, wounded, isolated Buck.

How Eddie wanted to tell him explicitly 'dont do what I did, kid, don't fall back into and habits at first chance just because you don't think you're worth anything else'- there were reasons why it didn't work in the first place. He'd learned the exact same lesson with Shannon. And God, the way Eddie had dragged Buck with him back then, for safety, as he had ranted to him and searched for the answers, only to make the same damn mistake.

That wasn't his life.

And Taylor wasn't Buck's. And Eddie knew this.

Knew from what Buck had told about her the first time she had been around, and from all that Eddie had heard about Buck's relationship to sex. It had turned into a joke at the station, oh, Buck and his self-diagnosed sex addiction, but Eddie recognized that worried little steeple on Bobby's forehead when he reminded everyone that that one therapist wasn't licensed to work for them anymore. But it went way deeper, didn't it?

Eddie knew about self-destructive behaviors. Not intimately. But he'd learned a lot about PTSD lately and adjacent behaviors. Buck and sex was a self-destructive bomb if he'd ever seen one.

And it was no coincidence that Taylor and Buck's relationship centered around physical intimacy.

Buck showed up where he was wanted or needed. They all knew that.

"Just... Make sure you get what you want too," Eddie said. "Put yourself first."

Cue the bewildered, insecure facial expression. Now and then Eddie wished he could hide Buck from the world. Shield him. For now all he could do was stand by.

"Because you'll always be wanted. Make sure the reasons are right for you. It has to be good for you."

And Eddie wouldn't be leaning so far out the window if Buck were to look him in the eyes and say 'nah it's not like that' but all he did was get quiet. Eddie couldn't leave him sitting like that, rearranging himself to stretch his legs out before they fell asleep and casually leaning his shoulder against Buck's.

"You're a good guy, Buck. You deserve only the best.

If you wanted Buck to hear you sometimes you had to get straight to the point.

Maybe one day Eddie could conquer his fear and say what he really wanted to say.

When they were both ready.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

11 please :)

Hello my dude! I’m sorry for the wait! I hope this makes up for it :) <3

11. “How could you ask me that?”

[Prompt List]

[count on me - AO3 Link]

Word Count: 4386 words

Buck woke up to his phone ringing. 

He hardly took the time to register that the screen was flashing with Eddie’s landline number before he instantly picked up, heart pounding with possibilities. “Hello?”

“Bucky?” Christopher’s voice came through the speaker, soft and worried.

“Hey, bud. Is everything okay?” The sound of his voice immediately jerked Buck out of the lingering haze of sleep, much like the way he did for the station alarm. It was rare for Christopher to call him without a bunch of happy giggling and Eddie’s amused voice in the background — even rarer for either of them to call using the landline — and both those things set him on edge. He hardly felt awake enough for it.

“Yeah, but I think Daddy’s sick.” Buck was already up and moving at the sound of that, barely registering that it was still dark outside.

“What makes you say that?”

“I heard him throwing up. I asked him if he was okay, and he said he was but he didn’t sound good.” The raw concern in the kid’s voice squeezed at Buck’s chest, and made him speed up a little more, hastily jerking on proper sweatpants.

“I’m sure he’s okay, he probably just came down with something.” It was flu season, which was probably why Eddie was sick. Or he could’ve eaten something bad, leading to a stomach bug. Whatever it was, Buck began forming a mental checklist of everything he’d need. “I’m on my way okay, kiddo? Can you do me a favour and wait in the living room? I don’t want you to catch whatever he has.”

“Okay. Will you come as fast as you can?”

“I promise.” Seemingly appeased, Christopher hung up. Buck stared at his phone for a second, so proud on Eddie’s behalf that he had a kid who cared so much about him. And his own behalf too, because the kid trusted him enough to call when his dad was sick. 

Shaking his head, Buck grabbed an empty duffel bag and started throwing together a ‘sick kit’ with everything he could think of. He grabbed two oversized hoodies, a thick blanket, cold and flu medication, tissue boxes, cold compresses, whatever thick socks he could find, a small humidifier, and muscle ache cream. Anything else, he could grab from Eddie’s.

Making a quick stop in his kitchen, Buck also threw crackers, honey, lemon tea, and the ingredients for chicken broth into a plastic bag. There was no trusting Eddie’s pantry for any of it, even with Carla around.

Thankfully, LA traffic was on his side today, and the normally twenty-minute drive to the Diaz household took only ten minutes. He juggled the supplies he brought into one hand, using his key instead of knocking.

The faint sound of cartoons was playing in the background but there was no mistaking the drag of Christopher’s feet as the boy walked as fast as he could to the door, still disheveled from sleep. Buck set the bags down so he could hug his favourite kid in the whole world.

When Christopher didn’t let go after a while, Buck got even more worried. “Chris?”

“Dad’s never been sick before, Bucky,” the kid mumbled under his breath, squeezing him tightly. Buck frowned, but pulled back just a little to look him in the eye. That couldn’t have been true but the way Eddie had been running himself into the ground these past few years, he probably didn’t have the luxury of falling sick of all things. 

Man, he was even beginning to think like Eddie.

“He’ll be fine, Chris. I brought all these things to make your dad feel better, and between you and me, he’ll be on his feet in no time!” He smiled at him. “But lemme check on him and make sure he’s not contagious, okay? I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Okay.” Chris let go of him to walk back to the living room. Buck stayed crouched in the entrance, trying to make sense of what exactly was happening here.

It was five in the morning, and Chris had likely woken up from the sound of his father in the bathroom — which explained why Eddie wasn’t being his normal stubborn self. The house was a little too still, and Eddie hadn’t come out hearing the sound of Buck’s key in the door.

Very sick indeed.

He knocked lightly on Eddie’s door, hearing a raspy wheeze of Chris’ name. Buck walked in to find Eddie struggling to sit up, clearly assuming that his son had come looking for him again. He rushed to his friend’s side, lowering him back to the bed.

“Buck?” Eddie asked, voice sounding hoarse, thick and confused. Buck frowned as he took his state in. 

Eddie’s face was pale with an unnatural redness to his cheeks. His eyes were drooping closed, slightly red and bloodshot. The deliberate and pained way he was holding himself spoke of bone-deep aches and the insistent way Eddie was sniffling meant that he was probably congested to hell. 

“Yeah, hey. What’s going on?” Buck asked, leaning forward to rest the back of his hand against Eddie’s forehead and neck. He was definitely running hot.

“I caught a cold.” His normally-deep voice was nasally, gruff, and put him out of breath with only four words. Buck only shook his head. “What’re you doing here?”

“Chris called me, said you threw up this morning.” Buck picked up the still-capped thermometer on the table, sitting down on the side of the bed. 

“I haven’t been this sick in years,” Eddie grated out, pulling the covers tighter around him. Buck winced at the sound of his friend’s voice, but forced a smile on his face anyway.

“Seems like you’re long overdue,” Buck quipped as he placed the thermometer under Eddie’s tongue. Well, placed was generous; it was more forcing Eddie to open his mouth and let someone care for him.

Even with a maximum of 4% energy in his system, Eddie Diaz was still full of fight, stubborn as ever. Buck emotionally blackmailed him using Christopher’s worry and the fact that he’d woken up and driven over at the butt-crack of dawn to make sure Eddie was okay. He wasn’t above playing dirty to get what he wanted.

His fever clocked in at 100.7 degrees, which only worried Buck more. Adults didn’t usually get a fever with a common cold, but naturally, Eddie had to be the exception. “I’m not going to rush you to the doctor yet, but if your temperature doesn't go down by tonight, we’re going.”

Buck ignored Eddie’s grumbling and went back outside, dragging his duffel bag into Eddie’s room. Trying to stay as quiet as possible, he started digging through the supplies. 

“What’s that?” Eddie rasped as Buck plugged the humidifier in and set it on his bedside, flipping the switch.

“A humidifier-slash-diffuser. There’s eucalyptus oil in there. Helps dislodge the congestion. And here are tissues. Stop sniffling and blow your nose .” Buck set two boxes of tissues near Eddie’s bed along with a trash can, looking pointedly at him.

“You came prepared, didn’t you.”

“Not everyday you get the opportunity to take care of Eddie Diaz,” he shrugged, smiling lightly. “Sit up.” Buck braced his hand on an immediately-shivering Eddie, rolling his eyes as the man tilted into him. “Who let you be an army medic? You can’t even treat a common cold.”

“Aren’t you here to make me feel better?” 

Buck ignored the wisecrack, instead choosing to focus on the fact that Eddie was only wearing a thin shirt and sweatpants even though he was practically shaking with chills. He shoved one of his hoodies unceremoniously over his friend’s head and laughed at the glare Eddie was shooting at him, off-set by how adorable he looked.

Hair a rat’s nest, pale and drawn but dwarfed by the warm hoodie, enough that the sleeves extended well past his arms and the shoulders drooped to swamp him, Eddie Diaz looked inexplicably tiny .

Buck studiously ignored the flare of possession in his chest as he beamed at his pouting friend. He didn’t think a six foot tall man who also happened to weigh 185 pounds of muscle could look so small but there it was.

“Looking cute, Diaz,” Buck teased as he got Eddie settled back in bed, laying the thick blanket over him. For all of his griping, the older man snuggled further into it, still glaring precariously at Buck over the top of the blanket. “Those looks don’t work on me, so stop trying. See if you can nap for a bit, I’m going to make you something light in an hour or so, so you can take medicine.” 

“Christopher?”

“He’s watching TV. I’m pretty sure you’re contagious so he’s going to stay away from you. I’m going to try to get him to go back to sleep for a little bit instead.”

Eddie made a muffled sound of agreement before sinking further into the mattress, closing his eyes. Buck glanced around the room, making a quick decision to shut the blinds completely. Fresh air and sunlight were nice, but not when one’s head was pounding like they’d drank every liquor on the shelf. Eddie would regret it when the sun came up.

As he turned away from the blinds on the far wall, he heard a scratchy rendition of his name from underneath the blanket tower. “Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not getting this hoodie back.” That was all Eddie said before falling asleep, harsh breathing evening out slightly to soft snuffles.

Buck stood there, surprised at the hint of vulnerability from his best friend. He chalked it up to the cold, but couldn’t help how pleased he felt with the idea of his hoodie hanging in Eddie's closet, long after the cold dissipated. 

He turned to leave, catching sight of himself in the square mirror hanging on the wall with the stupidest smile on his face.

Like he said, adorable.

-------

Christopher watched him move around the kitchen, having immediately shook Buck awake when he emerged from his room an hour later, finally well rested. Buck had been dozing on and off on the couch, keeping an ear out for either Diaz boy when Christopher had crawled into his side, startling him to high heaven.

And now, here they were, making Eddie soup.

“That’s a lot of vegetables,” Christopher commented, looking skeptically at the pile of them on the cutting board.

Buck laughed, sliding the onion to the side and grabbing the carrots. “Yeah, but they’ll help your dad feel better in no time. Who knows, you might even like it.”

Chris wrinkled his nose in that telltale way kids do, the expression Buck deemed to say ‘I don’t believe you but you’re an adult so I won’t argue.’ Buck just shook his head, dropping the chopped onion into the pan.

He and Chris chatted about every topic they could think of as they worked together to throw a tray together for Eddie. Christopher dropped some toast into the toaster while Buck plated the soup for him, keeping it light.

“Can I come see him too?” Chris asked when Buck picked up the tray. He hesitated, not wanting Chris to catch whatever Eddie had.

“How about you see him quickly from the doorway?” he suggested gently. “I don’t want you to get sick, too.” The kid eagerly nodded, following behind him. He let Chris push the door open and take a look inside to where his dad was buried under all those blankets.

“Is he sleeping?”

“I don’t know.” He craned his neck to look closely at Eddie, who hadn’t even stirred at the sound of Christopher’s voice. He hated having to wake him up but he had to get some food in the man. “He probably is. Let me get him to eat something, then we can eat breakfast, okay? Why don’t you think about what you want to eat?”

“Can I have anything I want?”

Buck laughed quietly. The kid was a mastermind with those puppy dog eyes, and he knew it. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Satisfied with that response, Chris ambled off, leaving Buck to push the door open all the way with his foot. Steam tickled his nose as he set the tray down on the bedside table.

“Eddie,” he whispered, shaking the man lightly. It took two more tries for the man to rouse enough, blinking his eyes open.

“Buck. Still here?” 

“Of course I am,” Buck answered, pulling the covers back as Eddie pushed himself to sit against the railings. “Here, drink some of this soup and eat a little so you can take medicine.”

He could already see the grimace forming on the other man’s face, and could practically hear the argument Eddie was about to put up. Buck promptly glared at him to stop the childish expression in its tracks, putting his no-nonsense face on. 

To his surprise, it actually worked. Eddie smiled sheepishly instead, letting Buck move the tray to his lap.

“This is really good,” he said in between bites of toast. Buck flushed at the compliment, waving him off. Eddie, as sick as he was, had the audacity to smirk, to which he rolled his eyes, changing the subject entirely.

“Christopher came to see you at the door.”

“What? Did he–” Before he could even say anything, Buck held his hands up.

“From the door, Eddie. I didn’t let him come in.” Eddie relaxed again, absently stirring at his soup.

“Sorry, I just don’t want him catching whatever it is I’ve come down with.” As if on cue, he let out another sneeze.

Buck’s eyebrows crept up to his hairline.  “You’ve got the whole nine yards. Fever, vomiting, sneezing, cough, congestion. What did you do to yourself?”

Eddie snorted, instantly regretting it when it led to a coughing fit. Buck handed him a box of tissues and a water bottle, his worry secretly deepening as Eddie blew his nose. 

“How’d you get here again?” his friend groaned, sounding breathless already.

“Chris called me,” Buck explained again, shoving the last bite of water-logged vegetables into Eddie’s mouth before taking the tray away.

“I would’ve heard him call from my phone.”

“He called from the landline. Why are you fixating on this, by the way?” Buck raised an eyebrow, getting off the bed and taking the thick blanket away from him. “I mean, I know you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but having someone else do it for you isn’t a bad thing, either.”

Eddie flushed more than he already was, getting back in bed. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“You’ve seen me in worse positions,” he pointed out, referring to his recovery after the truck bombing, then the embolism, and probably countless other injuries and health issues in between. Eddie had been there for all of it.

“You weren’t contagious in any of those positions.”

He couldn’t argue with that one. At this point he’d been around Eddie too long to even care if he got infected, so he just shrugged, passing Eddie the pills and a water bottle. “I have a wonderful immune system, but if I get sick, you can take care of me.”

That managed to get his friend to settle down, so Buck chalked it up as a win.

“Wait, give me my blanket back.”

“The point is to get your fever down . You’re wearing a hoodie and you have your own comforter,” Buck said, folding the blanket and setting it near Eddie’s laundry basket to be washed later. “You can nap now, but I’m coming to get you in three hours so you can shower and brush your teeth.”

“If I’d known that you were going to be such a drill sergeant, I would’ve disconnected the landline and all other ways to reach you myself,” Eddie huffed, flipping the hood over his head and turning away to snuggle into the pillow.

Buck couldn’t help but laugh that time. “Do you always get this whiny when you’re sick?”

“How could you ask me that?” he, well, whined. “I’m not sick. ”

He made a face at his friend’s back. “You have 100 degree fever, you look like you’ve been run over by a truck and your voice sounds like you’ve smoked 20 packs a day for the past twenty years. Need I go on?”

“Shut up,” he groused from underneath the comforter, letting out another sneeze.

Buck shook his head at the theatrics but busied himself collecting the dishes. He pulled the sleeve of crackers from the duffle and set it on the bedside table before walking out, leaving the door open a crack.

“Did he eat?” Chris asked, getting to his feet when he heard Buck come out. He nodded at the kid, ushering him into the kitchen.

“Yeah, your dad’s sleeping now. Did you decide what you wanted to eat?”

“I want French toast!” the kid cheered quietly. Buck gestured for him to sit at the small table in the kitchen. French toast was one of those once-in-a-while breakfasts that they had together, and truth be told, Buck wasn't really surprised that Chris asked for it.

Out of sheer luck, he managed to find all the ingredients he needed for breakfast, quickly whisking the eggs, milk, cinnamon and nutmeg together before dipping thick slices of bread into the mix. “You want eggs with that, bud?”

“No, just French toast,” he answered. Buck slid the plate in front of him with a flourish, pulling the bottle of syrup out. 

“You have to eat fruit with this, too,” Buck told him. “Your dad may be sick but he’ll never let me in this house again if he finds out I let you have this much sugar.”

“Don’t be silly. Dad’s always going to let you in,” Chris giggled, reaching for the bowl of berries Buck just managed to set down before it slipped out of his grasp altogether. 

“What do you mean?”

“He loves you,” the kid shrugged, tucking into his breakfast with a relish that made Buck absently wonder if he should’ve sent Chris to bed with a snack the first time. Regardless, his words made Buck double-take, heart hammering in his chest. He only barely managed to stop himself from pressing for more answers, thinking it to be unfair on Eddie. “Where’s your food?”

“I’m going to make it now. Do you want more?”

Christopher nodded vigorously around a mouthful, making Buck wrinkle his nose dramatically. “Gross.”

The sound of the kid’s laughter filled the kitchen. Buck couldn’t even bring himself to be upset at a mere four hours of sleep; not if he got to hear that.

They finished breakfast quickly before Chris retreated to his room to finish homework. Buck cleaned the rest of the kitchen before starting in on disinfecting everything, knowing how fast the flu could spread.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eddie’s voice came from the doorway, making Buck jump and slam his head on the cabinet shelf. He let out a long string of curse words as he stumbled out, biting his tongue and glaring at Eddie when he rushed at him. “Jesus, Buck, are you okay?”

“Where the hell did you even come from?” he asked, rubbing the back of his head, trying to dissipate some of the flaring pain spreading through his skull. He dropped the wipe he was using, “And why are you out of bed?”

Eddie cradled his head in his hands carefully, poking and prodding at the tender area. “I woke up and the house was too quiet, so I came to see if you two went somewhere. Does this hurt?”

Buck slapped his hand away. “It does when you touch it.” He took a closer look at Eddie who, despite being wrapped in a comforter, looked a lot better than he had in the morning. “You look human again.”

“I don’t feel like it,” he admitted, taking a seat and draping the comforter over the back of the chair. Buck inwardly cringed, given that he’d just disinfected the table. 

Buck switched the burner for the soup on, silencing Eddie’s protests with another glare. Secretly, he was pleased at this new power he’d acquired from somewhere — the ability to shut his best friend up with one look.

“What were you planning to do today if my kid hadn’t called you?” Eddie asked, resting his head in his hand as he watched Buck move around.

“I’m glad he called me, first off, because you looked like roadkill this morning,” he answered, turning around to stir the pot absently. “And I hadn’t really decided; there’s laundry to do, I haven’t hit the gym today, things like that. Regular errands that can be done any time.”

Eddie sniffled, blowing his nose into a tissue as Buck set a hot bowl in front of him. He took the opportunity to rest the back of his hand on Eddie’s neck and forehead, relieved to find him feeling cooler than he had in the morning. 

“Did you guys eat breakfast?”

“Yeah we had French toast and berries.” The mention of breakfast brought up those words Christopher had casually dropped in his lap, and as Eddie ate, Buck pondered upon them.

Kids didn’t have much concept of the different types of love; Christopher could've meant anything.

Buck knew Eddie cared for him, and knew that if he’d been the one to fall sick, Eddie would’ve shown up immediately. He knew that Eddie trusted him, evident from everything that had to do with Christopher. There was an underlying affection between the two of them that Buck wasn’t stupid enough to deny, but wasn’t idiotic enough to mention either. They worked seamlessly together, practically lived in each other’s pockets and had a whole non-verbal communication in place that freaked more people out than it should’ve.

Huh. Maybe Chris was actually onto something here.

“You spoil him,” Eddie was saying when Buck turned back to his friend, dizzy from the circles he’d spun himself in.

“He deserves it,” he defended, fully offended at the assessment. “And I know how to say no! I just told him not to go to your room. Also, I made him eat fruit with his sugary breakfast so you didn’t kick me out. And I got him to sleep for an hour after I saw you in the morning.”

“I would never kick you out,” Eddie admonished, almost parroting Christopher’s words. “And I was just kidding.” Buck narrowed his eyes at him, but got up to rip off another dose of pills from the packet, setting them next to his friend with a fresh bottle of water. 

“Go shower,” he instructed when Eddie finished. “You stink. Also, where do you put your dry rice?”

------

“A sock.”

Buck stood in front of a freshly-showered Eddie (who’d thrown the hoodie back on, but left it unzipped), holding one thick sock filled with rice. 

“Come on, Eddie, trust me on this.”

“Dude, it’s a sock.”

He rolled his eyes, wrangling a protesting Eddie into bed and plopping the warm sock on his chest. “Look, it’s a completely new, never-worn-before sock. Trust me on this, they work so much better to clear your chest and sinuses and they work better for muscle aches and pains.”

Eddie pressed it to his chest, raising an eyebrow. “And you know this how?”

“Because I’ve treated a lot of my colds, and muscle aches, and pains,” he said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a stupid hack, but it genuinely helped his leg when nothing else would; Buck took whatever opportunities he could.

Thankfully, Eddie quieted after that, settling down with the sock pressed against his chest. Buck checked the humidifier before pulling the thermometer out, sticking it under Eddie’s tongue.

“Hmm...99.3. Not bad, Dr. Buckley, not bad at all,” he mock-praised himself, patting himself on the back and laughing when Eddie rolled his eyes. “Hey, I’m not going to have to drag you to the actual doctor, so take the win.”

“Well. For what it’s worth, thank you for coming by.” Eddie reached for his wrist, tugging until Buck sat down next to him. “I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem,” he replied, adjusting the sock and making sure it wasn’t too hot. 

“Will you stay?” Eddie’s eyes were already drooping, the man fighting to keep them open.

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere.”

He shook his head, eyes clearer than they had been this morning. “No, here, with me?”

Buck hesitated for a moment, only spurred by Eddie’s fingers tightening on his wrist. “Okay, let me check on Christopher first.” 

Christopher was content to be watching his movie, so Buck told him to come get him if he needed anything before retreating back to Eddie’s room. He rounded the bed to slide in next to him, smiling when Eddie leveraged up to rest his head on Buck’s thigh, letting out a sigh of content. 

There was definitely something to say about Eddie Diaz seeking comfort like this, because while Buck knew how tactile he was, it wasn’t usually like this unless he was really tired. Then he’d be more liable to fall asleep on Buck’s shoulder or lap. It was rare enough that he didn’t even remember the last time it’d happened.

Buck settled one hand on Eddie’s side, rubbing circles while the other carded through his hair, scratching lightly through the damp strands. A sense of peace overcame him as he sat there with the man he loved in his arms, even as sick as he was. Briefly, Buck thought about catching this cold himself, before deciding that he’d been around far too long for it to matter.

“Buck?” Eddie’s voice came just as Buck thought he’d fallen asleep. He hummed in response, moving his fingers to coast along Eddie’s hairline, massaging as he went. “Thank you.”

He smiled, sweeping gentle fingers across Eddie’s cheek as the other man fell into slumber. “Any time, Eddie.”

(Buck did indeed fall sick a week later.

“‘I have a wonderful immune system,’” Eddie mimicked his voice, taking Buck’s temperature with a frown on his face.

"I don't sound like that."

“Buck."

"Yes?"

"Shut up.”)