number 5 for the platonic besties prompts if it sparks something :)
@dancing-mylife-away also asked for this one! (“do you have my sad hoodie? i need my sad hoodie”)
buck: do you have my sad hoodie
buck: i need my sad hoodie
eddie glances around, as if buck’s sad hoodie might just be sitting in the corner of his living room. which—it wouldn’t be the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last. but the hoodie isn’t in any of its usual places, not hanging off the mantle or thrown over the corner of the sofa or folded neatly on the shelf by the door.
eddie: not here
he’s about to ask why buck needs his sad hoodie when another text comes through.
buck: are you sure? i thought i left it there last week
and that’s when the realisation hits.
eddie: oh. yeah. so i’ve got good news and bad news
buck: ???
the phone rings before he can start typing out his response, and he picks up immediately, launching into his explanation before the phone reaches his ear.
“you did leave it here last week,” eddie says, “but there was a, um. an incident. with a coffee stain. so it’s in the washing machine right now.”
“how did you get a coffee stain on my hoodie?” buck asks.
“chris knocked my cup over, it was in the splash zone.”
“why was my hoodie in the splash zone?” buck asks, a smile in his voice, as eddie realises what he’s just admitted to.
“i was wearing it,” eddie says, hoping he comes off as nonchalant. “i was sad.”
“yeah?” buck asks. “what were you sad about?”
the fact that i woke up in an empty bed again, eddie thinks. the fact that i’m going to keep waking up in an empty bed. the fact that i want to hold you so badly it’s like a physical ache, and i never will, not how i want to.
“uh, sports,” eddie says, and tries to come up with the name of a single LA sports team. “the, um, kings lost?” it comes out more of a question than he’d like, and buck huffs a laugh.
“it’s not hockey season,” he says, gentle, just a hint of amusement curling around the words. “why were you wearing the sad hoodie?”
“why do you need the sad hoodie?” eddie shoots back. buck sighs.
“i don’t even—i don’t know,” he says. “nothing happened or anything. i’m just—”
“just,” eddie says, and buck sighs again.
“yeah.”
“come over,” eddie says. “the hoodie won’t be clean for a bit, but we can get you a sad blanket or something.”
i can be your sad hoodie, eddie thinks, and immediately resolves never to say those words out loud. he’d never live them down.
“it’s not the same,” buck says, his tone exaggeratedly mournful, but there’s laughter poking through the corners of his words.
“maybe, but it’s better than nothing,” eddie says, and buck hums.
“yeah,” he says. “okay.”
buck lets himself in twenty minutes later, crossing straight over to the couch and collapsing in a heap on top of eddie. eddie rolls his eyes and grumbles and pokes at buck’s side, but then he shuffles around on the sofa until they’re comfortably tangled together, buck’s head resting on his chest.
“hey,” he murmurs. “still just?”
“yeah,” buck says, the word half-buried in the fabric of eddie’s t-shirt. “but—a little less.”
and eddie still wants to hold buck so badly his arms ache, still wants buck in ways he’ll never have, but—with buck tucked against him like this, it’s a little less. if just for now.
“good,” he murmurs against the top of buck’s head. “that’s good.”
✨platonic bestie behaviour✨ prompts
