buck and eddie are allergic to emotional transparency unless one of them is actively, visibly suffering. like, bleeding. collapsed on the pavement. lying in a hospital bed, eyes fluttering open just in time to make prolonged eye contact.
eddie gets shot? buck goes feral, sprints into gunfire, and then has a breakdown in the hospital waiting room. buck gets struck by lightning? eddie spends the rest of the season looking like he’s being haunted by a ghost who won't text him back. tsunami hits, christopher goes missing? buck’s grief is so visceral that eddie basically decides on the spot that this man is his emergency contact forever.
every single moment of intimacy is earned through injury. physical, emotional, spiritual — doesn’t matter. buck and eddie can’t say what they feel until someone’s on the verge of death. and sometimes not even then! sometimes the blood is the message!
they are so deeply, comically broken in exactly the same flavor of profound emotional starvation that of course they only connect in crisis. of course every near-death event just knits them closer together. they don’t get tired of it — they get intoxicated by it. survival is their love language.
and...they definitely have a blood kink.
