“Hey- um- can I…?” Eddie trails off gesturing his hands around awkwardly. Then he stops, his arms limp at his sides as he stares into Buck’s eyes, pleading with him.
Buck has no clue what he’s asking for, but he’d give Eddie anything in the entire world, including his beating heart, even if he had to rip it from his own body.
“Yeah man, of course.” He responds easily. Eddie sighs, relieved before he sits down on the couch next to Buck, grabbing his right hand. He holds it gently, as if it’s something precious, breakable. Two of his fingers drift to Buck’s pulse point, and Buck can hear Eddie counting under his breath.
(or, eddie keeps holding buck's hand, and buck lets him)
The rain pitter-patters steadily against the windows, the streaks of water falling quicker and quicker, as it picks up into a heavier downpour.
Droplets race one another down the glass, the water creating a faux mosaic on the glass. It’s beautiful.
Buck is watching it because, despite everything, it still calms him.
Buck knows he’s safe, and knows he has no reason to be afraid because he’s inside Eddie’s house, surrounded by the warmth that is the Diaz’ home. Sitting on their old blue couch, with the springs that dig right into your spine, letting Buck know he’s alive and well.
He closes his eyes, leaning his head back onto the couch, listening to the thunder roll in when the sound of scuffling in the kitchen catches his attention.
The distinct clatter of someone dropping a plate loudly echoes through the house, and Buck’s just about to get up, to check if Eddie’s okay, but before he can Eddie rushes into the room, coming to a stop in front of Buck.
Eddie’s posture is tense, shoulders taut, as he examines Buck. His eyes are frantic in their movements, his gaze traveling up and down Buck repeatedly, before he finally settles for looking into Buck’s own eyes.
The room was silent other than the rain outside, and Eddie’s heavy breathing.
The brunet reaches out, a small movement Buck would’ve missed if he wasn’t watching so closely. Eddie opens his mouth,
“Hey- um- can I…?” He trails off gesturing his hands around awkwardly. Then Eddie stops, his arms limp at his sides as he stares into Buck’s eyes, pleading with him.
Buck has no clue what he’s asking for, but he’d give Eddie anything in the entire world, including his beating heart, even if he had to rip it from his own body.
“Yeah man, of course.” He responds easily. Eddie sighs, relieved before he sits down on the couch next to Buck, grabbing his right hand. He holds it gently, as if it’s something precious, breakable. Two of his fingers drift to Buck’s pulse point, and Buck can hear Eddie counting under his breath.
Buck decides to lift both of their hands to his chest, so Eddie can feel his heart fully. This seems to further alleviate his tension as he slumps into Buck’s side, still counting.
His breathing returns to normal, and eventually, he stops counting- but he doesn’t let go. If anything Eddie’s grip on his hand tightens, almost as if he’s afraid to let go. (Buck is too, so very afraid)
So, they sit together, hand in hand, riding the storm out. Safe.
—
Buck would be lying if he told you he didn’t think about holding Eddie’s hand (or kissing him or holding him or touching him-) but Buck was pretty sure that was just a one-off thing. Comfort Eddie had needed, that Buck was absolutely happy to provide.
Except now Buck cannot stop staring at his hands. Whether he’s working out and Buck gets to see his arms flex, the veins in his hands popping, or if he’s working on a patient, years of skill clear, as those big strong hands are deft and gentle. Even if he’s just holding a mug, Buck can’t help himself.
He yearns for Eddie, and he feels himself longing to hold his hand again.
But, Buck knows it was a one-time thing. Or at least, he thought it was.
Until one day, he’s driving Eddie to work. (because regardless of what he tells you, Eddie loathes driving) He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, the other waving around dramatically as he tells Eddie a story.
“And then Thena’ tells me ‘don’t go chasing waterfalls’, which I’m still not quite sure what that means-“ he’s gesticulating all around- as he often does when he’s talking- when Eddie just grabs his hand mid-air, lacing their fingers together, before bringing their hands down to rest on his thigh.
Buck almost swerves into oncoming traffic. He doesn’t because he’s a phenomenal driver, but when the guy you’re in love with holds your hand (again!) that feels like an appropriate reaction.
Instead, Buck side-eyes Eddie, who is still intently watching him.
The older man squeezes his hand, prompting him to continue the story, and so Buck shakes away any confusion, squeezes back, and continues.
“Anyways, I drive the truck around looking for the house this little girl is in-“
—
It becomes a thing.
Eddie takes his hand into his at any given moment, (even once at work which Buck is sure he will hear about until the day he dies) and holds it, sometimes gently rubbing circles over the calluses and scars that rest on his skin.
Buck never asks- mostly because he’s afraid it will stop. He just enjoys the warmth and weight in his hand. He’s a tactile person, always has been, and his favorite person in the entire world is Eddie, so it’s not like this has been a hardship.
Buck is just… confused. Now despite very popular opinion, Buck isn’t dumb. (he has his moments, but give him a break, okay?) He knows how he feels about Eddie. Knows that he loves Eddie, every petty, grumpy, pain-in-the-ass part. The part that can’t even form a sentence before he has two cups of coffee, the part that once told his phone to ‘go fuck yourself’, the part that’s a wonderful dad to his spectacular son, all the parts that make him, him.
Buck never understood how to love until Eddie came into his life.
And so he also knows- or at least is pretty sure- that Eddie feels something back for him.
—
Everything finally comes to a head, on a very quiet night.
Christopher is over at a friend's house, enjoying what Buck assumes is a very chaotic birthday party. (because come on, they’re pre-teen boys)
Buck and Eddie are watching some shitty action movie, drinking beers, and surprise surprise, holding hands.
The credits roll, and Buck prepares himself to let go, wish Eddie goodnight, and go to sleep alone.
When instead, Eddie stands up without dropping his hand and tugs Buck up with him.
“Let’s go to bed.” Is all he says before he’s leading Buck down the hall, into his bedroom.
Buck’s already in his sleep clothes, having been anticipating staying over on the couch.
So he just hovers as Eddie changes into an old t-shirt and basketball shorts. He totally doesn’t admire the hard lines of his back or the way his thighs look-
“You gonna get in?” Eddie asks, already in bed, his eyes visibly twinkling even in the dark. Buck feels his face heat, but slides in next to him stiffly.
Eddie bullies him until they are laying face to face, hands clasped together between them. Buck takes a moment to admire the planes of Eddie’s face, the slope of his nose, and the definition of his jaw.
His resolve slips the longer he looks at Eddie, and he knows that even if he falls Eddie will catch him (and he fell long, long ago).
“I love you.” Buck whispers into the space between them.
The words are reverent and quiet, a confession, but not a secret.
Buck‘s love for Eddie bleeds into everything he does, every action he makes, every word he says, so even if this is the first time he’s said it out loud, it has never been hidden.
Eddie brings his other hand over to gently cup Buck’s face, “I love you too.”
“Is that why you keep holding my hand?” Buck can’t help but tease, Eddie rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face is far too fond for it to hold any heat.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He pauses, searching for his next words, “I needed the reassurance that you were still here, still alive. And then, I couldn’t stop holding your hand, which I know sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help it, I love you.”
Buck laughs, not at him but with him, because he gets it. Love is beautiful, all-consuming, and so very stupid.
The brunette leans forward until their foreheads are pressed together.
Buck tilts his head slightly upward, lips brushing Eddie’s.
Their first kiss is soft and slow, the exploration of lips attempting to convey the love that has been simmering for so long.
Once they break apart, they don’t go far, hands still intertwined, faces inches from one another.
“I’ll always be here,” Buck promises, “you know that right?”
Their job is unpredictable but that isn’t what Buck’s promising, he’s promising to fight for Eddie for their family, to always be there, here for them. Buck needs Eddie to understand that.
Eddie’s eyes search his before he nods, “I know.”
Buck smirks at him cheekily, “Alright, then you can keep holding my hand.”
(here it is, the buddie hand holding fic! hope it lived up to expectations. see you soon :])
Alice Oseman: Yesterday was one year since we shot the photo booth scene! I actually wasn’t expecting this scene to be a fan favourite, but I’m very happy that it is. We thought you’d like to see the photos as well as some of the outtakes! #Heartstopper
if you don’t have @ least one collection of specific items i literally have nothing more to say to you. we will never relate to each other. however, you cool ass motherfuckers who do collect @ least one type of thing, reblog this post and say what that thing is. i’ll go first: clown dolls and good luck charms
Back from my rather long hiatus, hello guys!I'll be back to posting regularly now. Had a lot of technical issues with my laptop, and then broke my phone. I now have a new phone, but my laptop still won't connect to the wifi, so I'm gonna have to only post traditional art.
