Oh You Know From The Wee-Woo Show

Buddie side blog

[miminwords]

it wasn't just Buck trying to dig Eddie up by hand. it was Bobby bodily dragging him off the ground and Buck sobbing in his arms. it was Hen and Chim giving him the spousal treatment. it was Bobby looking at him with an understanding of grief. it was Hen saying there will be two cut lines if Buck went down. it would have been rough but simpler if it was just Buck digging at the earth. it became much more because everyone else knew what that meant.

[tweetsongs]

16 for the touch prompts? :)

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.

(touch prompts!)

[whats-the-911-on-buddie]

4/??

Eddie's Mustache 🥰 Series

[cathcer1984]

under moonbeams

The reaction is instantaneous. Eddie's face smooths into something impassive and masking, his arms tighten over his chest like he's holding himself together. "I told you, there's nothing to talk about," Eddie grits out. "See," Buck murmurs, "I think there is. Because whenever I bring it up, you get like this." He waves his hand up and down to encompass Eddie's body. Voice rising, Buck continues, "I want to apologise and you shut down. You shut me out!" Eddie snarls, "because I thought it was you!" Stilling, Buck drops his head. "I know I should have been the one who told you." He's so ashamed that he didn't. The scoff Eddie releases stings. It's followed by a loud, deep inhale and a deliberately slow exhale. "I didn't mean I thought it was you calling," Eddie tells him, tone clipped in that almost military way it gets when he's trying to hide his emotions from people. He's not usually like that with Buck. "I thought it was you that was dead." * Buck goes on a healing journey, and somehow, of course, the destination is Eddie.

[letmegrabyourcuteass]

Do you think when Theo is having a meltdown cause he misses his parents, and in a flash, he spots Eddie and reaches out with his tiny hands to him, crying "Daddy," cause although they don't look similar, his grieving brain mistakes him for his dad. But right then and there, Eddie decides that Theo is his son just as much as Chris is Buck's. He sweeps Theo in a huge hug, one that makes Theo feel so safe and secure as Eddie lets him cry it all out.

Eddie can see Buck standing by his bedroom door, looking worried. He mouths that he's got this and watches Buck's shoulders droop down as he walks away. He then sees Christopher walk past his door towards Buck. Chris looks at Eddie and mouths back to him, "I got this," with a smile as he makes his way to Buck.

[livesbetweenpages]

It just occurred to me that Eddie is normally the looker, Mr. Heart Eyes, staring at Buck while Buck talks—except when Eddie’s in Texas and they’re on FaceTime and suddenly Eddie keeps looking past the phone, keeps looking anywhere but Buck, while Buck sneaks glances at what he’s doing, so that he can keep his focus on Eddie.

It’s like Eddie can’t look at Buck because Buck is the mirror that shows Eddie the full truth of who he is: Buck doesn’t ignore the messy bits, the mistakes, but he doesn’t hold them against Eddie like it makes Eddie less than. And Eddie’s in a hell of his own making, trapped in a town he left and felt forced to return because he made the biggest mistake he could: losing his kid’s trust—losing his kid near completely. And he can’t look at Buck in the moments he fails, because he Buck forgives him for it, regardless of what it is, and Eddie doesn’t think he deserves that forgiveness until he makes it right. It’s why, in part, to me, he didn’t tell Buck about Kim.

Meanwhile, the screen acts as a barrier, acts as permission, for Buck to look at Eddie. He’s allowed, encouraged even, to focus on Eddie, who needs him, even 800 miles away. No tricks needed to offer support like he had to with Carla’s expertise. Buck doesn’t have to offer this time, just like when Chris wanted to leave; because Eddie called him. And Eddie keeps calling him, keeps needing him, so Buck gets to help, and gets to look, in part because of the screen, but also because Eddie keeps looking away.

[lesbucks]

You are SO right that Buck serves as Eddie's mirror, and I think we can pull from the actual mirror scene in Confessions to really dig into it. In just a sec.

Eddie is a character that is consistently and most often shown as looking for both validation and recrimination for his actions as a father and husband (widower). He seeks it out from Bobby, from Shannon, from Father Brian--none of whom really give him what he wants, which is usually to be punished for his failures, but they can't give him the validation either because he doesn't believe them. To him, none of them are unbiased sources. They carry guilt, responsibility, and duty towards him. Eddie avoids looking at them dead on until he's come to some sort of conclusion.

Now, Buck is a different story. But something else first.

While Hen and Chim take inspiration from calls involving children and parents, Eddie is the one who is most likely to see himself in the parents and the children. The most blatantly obvious examples would be when he goes to talk to the father of the cheerleader in 8x4 and most recently with Abigail. This tells us that Eddie is looking for a mirror, he's looking for himself in other people.

In Confessions, Eddie looks himself in the eye in his mirror and takes off his mask. We don't see characters looking in mirrors a whole lot--actually now i wanna find all the mirror scenes in 911 bc iirc Buck gets a mirror scene during his withdrawal episode, alone--so this is really a moment where Eddie is taking stock of himself and choosing to stop looking away (not that anything else in the show really carries on this theme but as I always say, Texas arc could have been so good if it were good), and obviously choosing joy, he's done hiding and he's done punishing himself--but what's important to me is that Buck comes over immediately after.

Eddie shares this moment of joy with Buck but! He doesn't stop hiding from him. Eddie's decided to stop hiding from himself, but I think he's absolutely terrified of looking at Buck and seeing disappointment. Because if Buck is disappointed that means Eddie is disappointing. Buck wouldn't lie to him. He does this in season 5 too. And like you said Buck will forgive him--like, Eddie is both expecting this and fearful of it. He can lie to Buck and hide things from him, and it's more tolerable for Buck to forgive him for that. But if he chases his truth and he fails. If he falls. That's not forgiveness he deserves.

So he can't look at Buck or tell him things or include him in anything as easily as he did before because it's easier to do something bad and face recrimination than it is to try really hard and fall apart while Buck watches. He's gotten to the point where he can probably face himself for his mistakes but with Buck he's basically stopped looking.

(Meanwhile Buck keeps trying to get Eddie's attention because losing it feels like failure, but he can't look directly at Eddie because that means something. But he can be Buck on the phone. he can be Buck the voice of reason. He can be Buck the helper and keep Eddie company. Because Eddie called him. Actually I just spent a few minutes looking something up im pretty sure Eddie is always the one calling Buck even before Texas. Do with that what you will)

[livesbetweenpages]

Lauren you fucking genius, it’s like you put into words something I knew was there but couldn’t articulate!

Now hold all this in our heads, and think of the kitchen fight, and specifically this line: it's easier to do something bad and face recrimination than it is to try really hard and fall apart while Buck watches.

the fight in which Eddie is faced nearly away from Buck for the majority of the fight as soon as all the attention is put on him/he puts on himself—a think Eddie does not do! He started it by trying to force Buck into a conversation and then it gets vulnerable and hard the minute Buck pushes back, the minute Eddie has an opening to finally say what hurt so much. That he was alone, and he was pissed at Buck for not asking him about it, and pissed he wasn’t there, but especially pissed at himself because it was his fault anyway, like always. The only reason he wasn’t with Bobby in the lab was because he followed Chris and Chris only left because of Eddie’s wants. And the whole time, Buck looks. In a reversal of how they usually are, Buck is trying to get Eddie to stop asking questions, to for once not put his attention on Buck, and he succeeds, and then he leans on the counter and watches Eddie. Eddie puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder and it’s the first time Buck was already looking. Eddie didn’t need to refocus Buck’s attention: he already had it, like a spotlight.

And then season 9 opens and Buck is staring at Eddie from across the room, while Eddie is looking away, attention focused on Hen. And Buck reaches out with the ouiji board, and Eddie briefly looks at Buck and turns back towards his locker. They’re still in that reversal, and it’s still centred around Bobby and forgiveness and grief.

And it’s so interesting to me because Eddie wanted Buck to be with him, to grieve together, which is not what Eddie does. He grieved Shannon alone. And yet it’s also the one time Eddie doesn’t want Buck’s forgiveness. He wants to hold the blame for Bobby’s death. And yet Buck still doesn’t let him hold the blame: What makes you think I didn’t do everything? Eddie, for once, doesn’t accept Buck’s absolution. He pushes back on it—guess we’ll never know—because Bobby’s death is the one thing he won’t let himself be forgiven for.

And then, as @perlaret has pointed out, we get the parallel of Eddie and the mirror in Dia de Los Muertos before we see the progression of how Eddie grieves: no longer alone but surrounded by his community. And I know how much people wanted to see Buck be there for Eddie when Isabel died, but it makes sense that he wasn’t because at the end of it, grief isn’t about blame or absolution. It’s about carrying the people you love with you, and Eddie didn’t need Buck there as the mirror in order to see it.

[lover-of-mine]

#idk bro something about hospital rooms and survivor's guilt?

Bones 1x15 “Two Bodies in the Lab” -> 911 4x14 “Survivors”

[poledancingghostson]

"I think we coevolved."

Buck's voice is a soft hum in the evening air--breaking the comfortable silence like the low buzz of a power line when you step close. Eddie wants to reach a hand out to touch it--thinks it'll kill him if he does.

Buck is stretched out on the grass of his backyard, staring up at the blushing sky. Dirt from his garden under his fingernails, rogue flour from hours before still settled into his shirt sleeve.

It's a lazy Saturday. He'd brought Chris over for no real reason. Had spent the day harvesting Buck's small crop of strawberries, adding the ones they didn't eat to the farmer's market basket, piling them onto fresh-baked shortcake, wiping whipped cream from the corners of their mouths.

Now, Eddie is on the patio, half his gaze on Buck, the other half on Chris and Theo playing Go Fish in the living room. A mug of chamomile warms his hands--not that they need warming in the late spring air. Still, it grounds him somehow.

"Coevolved?" He asks, and Buck nods, his gaze still fixed on the sky.

"Mutualistically of course."

Eddie chuckles lightly, and he watches with delight how Buck's smile stretches at the sound. "I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bud."

Buck's gaze finally shifts, offering Eddie a grin--soft and sunny like the hazy sunset--before turning back to the wispy, pinking cloud that's been drifting slowly over the yard.

"It's where different species adapt to each other's traits," he explains. "Plants and pollinators mostly." He picks at the grass under his hand, rolls it gently between his fingertips. "Like, Darwin's orchid and the sphynx moth. The orchid has a long nectar tube to force the moth to touch its reproductive structures when it eats. The moth is the only one with a tongue long enough to get to the nectar. They think it wasn't always like that, but one got longer and the other adapted to match it and on and on like that. Now the orchid has a reliable pollinator, and the moth has a source of food that it doesn't have to compete for."

The grass falls absently from his fingers. "They evolved to survive together, you know?" The deepening sunset casts a warm glow across his face. He turns his head, his gaze falling to Eddie again. This time it settles there. "Can't live without each other anymore."

The electric buzz courses lightly through the air between them. Eddie can't avoid it this time.

based on this note I took in field botany class today

[muddiedfoxglove]

I think my preferred Buddie dynamic is that Buck knows and is sick with it and repressing it. And Eddie doesn’t know until it hits him over the head and then he immediately does something about it.

[muddiedfoxglove]

Like Buck is doing 4D chess in his mind to not think about being in love with Eddie. But for Eddie, it will be some catalyst that causes every thing to suddenly snap into place and he has a that’s so raven style vision but it’s all flashbacks and him realizing he’s in love with Buck and then immediately finding Buck and confessing to him and kissing him and Buck is like wait what’s happening you’re straight and Eddie is like no I’m not and Buck is like when did that happen and Eddie said five seconds ago and now are you going to marry me or what

[muddiedfoxglove]

Which I guess I do understand the people who think Eddie wouldn’t immediately act on his feelings and would instead feel some sort of way about it instead, but that doesn’t feel in character to me. Once Eddie makes a decision he follows through on it, we have only seen him waffle on something a few times. And the times I can think of him hiding something (Shannon, fighting, Kim, moving, religion, etc) are because he inherently knows what he is doing is destructive in some nature. For him to hiding his love from Buck, it would for him to have negative feelings about that love and not once has he ever had a negative feeling about his relationship with Buck. Yes, he may have had a negative feeling towards Buck, but those in of themselves are rare. But from the moment Buck and him became friends in 201, they have understood each other completely. Even in the times Eddie was mad at Buck, he understood completely where Buck was coming from even if he didn’t agree. So yeah. If Eddie knows he’s in love with Buck then he knows Buck is also in love with him and he’s immediately doing something about it.

[bucksbeagle]

eddie should be doing yoga poses in bucks backyard while bucks making his fuckass sardine loaf and peaking through the window can anyone hear me…..

[vibecheckd]

buck should bring out lemonade and then suck the sweat out of eddie's tank top....who said that....

[archaeologyfandomsandsleep]

Happy Pride Month!! 🏳️‍🌈🎉

Find me on Instagram, Bluesky, X/Twitter.

[perlaret]

remember when eddie literally asked buck why he was skulking around his back door

[frightfullytreeish]

there should be an episode where they're called to a porn set and the actors who need rescuing are uncannily similiar to buck and eddie and the set strangely like eddie's house, and chim picks up a page of the script and reads out loud 'teddy (seductively): why are you skulking around my back door'

[perlaret]

he continues reading and the next stage direction has ‘chuck’ leaning flirtatiously against the doorframe and checking whether he’s alone (suggestive). the brownies he brought absolutely do have something in them.

buck and eddie are suddenly and aggressively avoiding eye contact

[buckstattoos]

woof woof

tiktok | insta | twitter | buck version

[lover-of-mine]

#there's something about the nonchalance when it's about them, even tho they lose it when it's about their partner...

Bones 1x15 “Two Bodies in the Lab” -> 911 9x18 “Hearts and Flowers”

[buckleysibz]

can i speak my truth. coma dream daniel buckley is not what the real daniel would have looked like if he was alive. why do i know this? he did not have enough boob to be a buckley sibling. ok thank you.

[lover-of-mine]

#when your partner gets kidnapped by a killer, and you escape the hospital even tho you are injured because you don't trust anyone else to save them. And you were having a nice time with some rock music before it all went to shit.

Bones 1x15 “Two Bodies in the Lab” -> 911 9x18 “Hearts and Flowers”

Inspired by Anonymous 🫶

[tweetsongs]

can I request 1, 3, & 20 for buddie please? separate prompts or together, whichever floats your boat!

1) knuckles brushing across a cheek + 3) lips pressed against a brow-bone + 20) fingertips tracing the notches of a spine (mwah ty sarah <33 i chose to do them separately AND together, because i am always Like This. this one got kind of long so under a cut!) (touch prompts!)

Eddie is used to being the early riser in a relationship. Eldest son time. Military time. Single father time. Any number of reasons for the way his body has become accustomed to jostling him awake at the brink of dawn, clear-headed and efficient, any traces of irritation tucked into the spaces deep inside of him reserved for feelings that he doesn't have the luxury of indulging in.

He would wake up before Shannon, in the quicksilver moments that they were together after Chris was born, rolling out of bed to rock their son to sleep and being rewarded by the softness in her eyes when she woke up after, exhaustion clinging less fervently to the edges of her eyes. He would wake up before Ana, watching her face still and silent in the dawn light, startling himself with her presence like she was a guest that he never quite came to expect. He would wake up before Marisol, untucking himself from her to do his morning chores, her jokingly complaining about her not doing her fair share of work and it never occurring to him to share any of it with her. It's just what he does. He's the one that gets up. He's the one who does it all.

With Buck, though, it's different.

Buck isn't like Eddie, with the clock embedded into him by necessity and force of habit. He's just a morning person, in the truest sense of the word. Though to call him that perhaps belies the point, which is that Buck throws himself into living as much as he can, as fully as he can. He throws himself into mornings and lingers into nights and even when he's sleep-worn or heavy with exhaustion there's a feeling of satisfaction there, like he takes pride in wringing out every moment he can from a day.

Between the two of them, even before-- all of this, which is to say the kissing and the cuddling and the bodies pressed into each other under the sheets, it was always a little bit of a guessing game on who was going to wake up first. Sometimes it would be Buck, the smell of breakfast and soft humming and the clunking noise of living that Buck can never quite contain. Sometimes it's Eddie, who quietly prepares for the day ahead of them, packing Buck's duffel alongside his own with the ease of love worn smooth at the edges.

With this, though--

(which is to say: the startling joy found in crevasses of Eddie's life that he'd thought were gathering dust. The ordinary moments suddenly refracted in color like light through a prism or waterfall or some other metaphor for the inherent transmutation properties of love. The kissing. So much kissing.)

-- with this, everything shifts, ever so slightly.

(1)

Eddie wakes up, and the world is bright.

He squints and groans at the light not so much filtering as it is invading through the curtains, casting everything in a new day. For a moment, habit runs through his muscles, pushes his elbows into the mattress so he can clamber out of bed into something productive.

Then, an arm around his waist, tugging him down. The world suddenly dims, not frightening but familiar, chestnut curls allowing just the right amount of light through them as Eddie's face is pressed to the hollow of Buck's throat, his nose tickling his adam's apple.

"Buck," he says, laughter already caught in his throat, the mere presence of this impossible man sending sparks, confetti, fireworks off in his veins.

"Nope," Buck mumbles into Eddie's hair, all squished and sleep-blurred, a smile in his voice just for Eddie. "Not getting out of bed."

"It's morning."

"It's sleeping in day, Eddie. I've decided." Long arms, longer legs, Eddie is trapped. He loves it. He absolutely cannot allow Buck to know that he loves it.

"Oh, you've decided?"

A nod against his head. "I've decided," Buck says, in his snottiest of voices. Eddie, as always, matches his energy.

"There are children out there," Eddie points out, perhaps a little dramatically. "Starving. You would let our children starve, Buck?"

"Chris lives for days when he can sneak an extra bowl of Reese's cereal for breakfast without either of us complaining about the sugar content," Buck says. "And he said he'd play with Theo this morning for a bit."

Eddie narrows his eyes. He feels Buck stiffen, only a little. "...I didn't know we had Reese's in the house."

A pause. "Well, you also didn't know that I reorganized your spice cabinet until you couldn't find the paprika, so."

"Buck. Did you bribe our kid with sugar so that we can sleep in."

Eddie pushes Buck back, just a little, so he can tilt his face up to meet his eyes. And also maybe so he can touch his pecs a little, so what, that's his boyfriend.

Buck's eyes are curved at the edges, all cheer. His grin is dimpled on one side, teeth flashing in that infuriatingly handsome way that Eddie refuses to admit always works on him. His body betrays him, though, his hand shifting around Buck's jaw, knuckles brushing over the swell of his lip, the little scar at the edge, the dimple curled in his cheek.

He presses a thumb to the dimple, drags it outward to watch the way Buck's smile gets even bigger. "Don't be ridiculous, Eddie. I bribed our firstborn with sugar so that we can cuddle in bed."

Eddie bites down a helpless smile, knows it seeps out of him anyways. He can hear the thump of careless teenage footsteps, if he concentrates. "Of course you did," he says. Then: "Did you at least tell him not to feed our secondborn straight sugar?"

Wide blue eyes, a toddler's giggly shriek, a wince. Eddie memorizes the shift of muscle under his fingers, cups Buck's jaw tenderly, and cracks up into his sheepish sternum.

(2)

It is not often that Eddie makes an elaborate breakfast.

It's not a matter of skill, mostly -- after all, there was a reason Bobby started Buck on breakfast foods: they were the hardest to fuck up. It's more simple tradition, if anything. Eddie is (or is now, at least) a competent cook. Buck is a passionate cook. He takes joy in discovering recipes and meal prepping and trying new techniques in ways that Eddie just doesn't, and Eddie is more than happy to sit on the counter and be fed bites of ricotta-stuffed crepes or egg bakes or whatever flavor of french toast Buck decides for their stale bread Saturdays.

Still, Eddie finds himself balancing strawberries on top of a pile of pancakes, rearranging the eggs twice and frowning at the results, deciding between orange juice and apple juice.

"Dad," his beloved son says. "You're being neurotic."

"Where did you learn that word?"

A blank stare. "I'm sixteen."

Beside him, Theo giggles. "Eddie's neurotic," he announces, his lisp making the roast unintentionally adorable. Eddie ruffles his hair, gets a little squirm in response.

"Don't listen to Chris, Theo," he says. "He only says boring stuff."

"Chris is cool," Theo protests, and Chris grins smugly at him.

"Yeah, dad," he says. "I'm cool. I even woke up early just to make sure you didn't chicken out on this."

"I'm not-- I wouldn't--" Eddie tries to glare at Chris. He fails. Chris just tilts his head pointedly down the hall.

"I told him to wait a bit more," he says. "But I think he's actually gonna vibrate out of his skin if he has to stay in bed for any longer."

Eddie throws his head back, groans, and grabs the orange juice before taking the tray down the hall. Behind him, he can hear his traitorous children giggling to each other.

He nudges the bedroom door open with a foot and nearly forgets what he's meant to be doing when he sees Buck sitting against the headboard, half-naked, curls messy, eyes lighting up when they see Eddie.

"Eddie!" he says, happiness in every square inch of his body. It's impossible to believe, sometimes, how happy Eddie makes Buck. It's impossible not to believe, when Buck is so obvious with it, glowing and unmistakable.

"Buck," he says, the name as familiar as his own heartbeat. He walks forward. One step, then another. Buck's eyes fall to the tray in his hands.

"Breakfast in bed?" he tilts his head, curious. "What's the occasion?"

"You being in my bed," Eddie says, putting the tray down in front of him, curling a hand into the his curls to press a kiss to his brow, peppering kisses along his hairline as Buck giggles until he reaches his birthmark. He's not nervous anymore, weirdly. It's just Buck, after all. Love of his life, his best friend, his partner in crime and in life. There's no other way for this to go.

Buck's eyes scrunches as he smiles, fond even as he's still a little confused. He looks down at the tray, grabs a strawberry, begins to eat. Eddie watches him clear his plate, making sure to tell Eddie between bites how good everything is. Eddie perches on the edge of the bed, listens to Chris and Theo watch cartoons in the living room, and waits until Buck is finished.

"Wait," he says, when Buck tries to get up, tray shifting with him. "You didn't finish."

Buck tilts his head at him. "What?"

Eddie nods at the plate. "There's something else," he says, heart in his throat.

Buck looks at him, then at the plate. His brows furrow. He takes in the plate, then picks it up. Drops it.

Eddie catches it in his hands, leaving Buck's hands free to pick up the small, gleaming key.

"You have a key already, so this is more metaphorical than anything, but-- I want to see you in my bed tomorrow, too. And the day after that. For-- a long time."

A beat, then a small, wet laugh. "A long time, huh," Buck says, looking at Eddie with red-rimmed eyes. "That's-- uh, yeah, that sounds about right."

And Eddie holds his head in his hands, presses another smacking kiss on his birthmark as Buck laughs, the key gleaming gold in his hands.

(3)

Eddie likes being held by Buck.

It's not a surprise, given the whole dating thing. But he would challenge anyone not to like being held by Buck, who holds people with the exact right amount of pressure, like he's keeping you safe but also not smothering you.

Honestly, Eddie could do with a little smothering, sometimes, but he appreciates the thought.

Eddie likes being held by Buck, the way any same person would, and he especially likes waking up in Buck's arms, sleep-tousled and morning-warm, mouth pressed to warm skin and rumbling with low snores. The two of them always start out spooning, when they go to bed, but they always end up this way: face to face, noses squished to necks and collars and hair, curled into each other like quotation marks. It's codependent, probably. It's careless, definitely. It's the best thing in Eddie's life.

Today, it goes like this: Eddie's cheek pressed into the pillow, face, turned towards sunlight, which is to say Buck. A leg curled over the dip of his waist, thrown over his hip, keeping him in place. A palm finding its way under his tank top, calloused fingertips dancing their way up his spine, a gentle rhythm that feels more deliberate than not.

"Are you playing piano on me?" Eddie murmurs, cracking one eye open a sliver. Buck looks at him, has been looking at him, from the angle his face is at, eyes bright and awake even as the rest of him remains sleep-soft in their bed.

Buck grins, ducks his head to get a morning-breath kiss before answering. "I've never played the piano, Eddie."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Doesn't answer the question, Buck."

He shivers, a little, when Buck just tip-taps his fingers a little quicker up his back, quicksilver moments of touch that leave goosebumps in their wake like every inch of Eddie's body feels a little forlorn when not actively being touched by Buck. Buck grins a little at him, eyes mischievous.

"I'm not playing piano on you, Eddie," Buck answers dutifully. He pushes Eddie towards him a little, tucking the both of them impossibly closer to each other. "I'm counting."

Eddie blinks, eyes opening fully. "Counting?"

"The little notches. I'm counting."

It makes Eddie laugh, a surprised huff of air that's tucked into the crook of Buck's neck now. Buck shivers, a little, and Eddie gets his revenge by nipping at the thin skin right below his ear. Buck retaliates by tightening the leg around Eddie's hip, a thick thigh pressing into him in a way that could easily get out of hand.

Eddie, a few years ago, would've rolled out of bed, insisted on getting started with the day. Eddie, today, just curls himself in even closer.

"I would imagine I have around thirty-two to thirty-five segments," he tells Buck, teasing. "You know, like most humans."

"I need an exact count, Eddie," Buck tells him, very solemnly. "What if they need that info when you're doing a checkup? They're gonna think I'm a neglectful boyfriend."

"I'm pretty sure that's not on any intake forms, mi sol," Eddie nips at Buck again, is rewarded with a press of fingers to the small of his back. "I know what you're really doing, you're not slick."

A little giggle, boyish and infectious. "What am I really doing, then?" Buck asks, sing-song.

"Feelin' me up."

Buck cracks up at that, giggling into Eddie's hair even as his hand sweeps over the breadth of Eddie's back, pressing with casual proprietary presumptuousness to each mole dotting the span of his skin, every bone that's visible beneath the shifting of his skin. These are things that Eddie does not know about himself, that Buck has told him with his mouth pressed to Eddie's skin, in the same careful way he catalogues every other detail of Eddie's existence.

It's overwhelming. Eddie wouldn't have it any other way.

"Oh, is that a crime, now?" Buck is saying, breathless with laughter. "To feel my hot boyfriend up first thing in the morning?"

Eddie feels the strength of Buck's grin seep into him, his own smile helpless in response. He tips his head back, meets Buck's eyes, watches the way that love transforms him into something not new but more wholly him, blooming in the light of the kind of love that he's always thrived in.

And Eddie feels transformed too, under that love, not any less himself but startling, beautiful parts of him that were tucked out of sight rendered into clarity through beloved eyes. A whole that Eddie can come to love, because he is so loved in return.

"I'll allow it," he says, running his hand through Buck's hair, pressing a kiss to his jaw, not waiting for the day to begin because every moment with the two of them is so wholly worth existing in. "It's a pretty nice way to wake up."