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“Goodmorning everyone, lovely to see your beautiful faces.” Buck greets, a tin of what Eddie hopes are some sort of breakfast food perched in his hand. It’s his third day being back from his leave, and he does seem more like himself.
Only this time, it feels genuine. Eddie still feels a pit in his stomach thinking back on the days when Buck’s smiles had most likely been forced.
He’s here though. He’s sober and he’s smiling, and he’s here. It’s a constant mantra going through Eddie’s mind, ever since Maddie had called him asking him to come over. Eddie had broken several traffic laws getting to Maddie’s house, an intense but familiar panic pumping through his veins.
But their past that- Eddie can move past it. He can treat Buck the same he always has, ample experience in pushing down his true feelings and concern.
“Buckley, those better be muffins.” Eddie says from his barstool.
Buck slides the tin towards him on the counter confirming Eddie’s hopes. “The blueberry ones have the gold wrapper.”
It’s a simple sentence, one said quickly as Buck moves through the kitchen to fix a protein shake. But it catches Eddie off guard. It’s not that he’s surprised, Buck’s middle name is thoughtful. It’s just, Eddie loathes blueberries. And the rest of the muffins, banana nut, chocolate chip, and another fruity looking one are mixed in together. The blueberry ones have been carefully wrapped and placed aside in their gold wrappers.
Eddie grins, wild, he feels it. “A man who knows the way to my heart,” he says with awe thick in his voice.
“Mine too,” Hen says snagging a blueberrry one.
Eddie grimaces at her as she chows down.
The moments over as quickly as it begun, the bell coming to life and sending them on their way. The feeling sticks with Eddie much longer though and he finds himself smiling on the way back to the station.
“What’s so interesting about the 405, Diaz?” Ravi says, knocking knees with him.
Eddie’s cheeks blaze but he makes eye contact with Buck from across the engine. “Just looking forward to another muffin is all.”
Buck throws his head back, a mirroring grin forming. “I have some steaks marinating at home too, if you and Chris want to come over tomorrow afternoon,” he says brightly.
Ravi scoffs, “and where’s my invite?”
Buck rolls his eyes but reaches forward and pats the younger man’s knee. “I’ll pack you some leftovers, buddie.”
Eddie’s brains cloudy, the kind he often feels when Buck is being endearing, but he hears Ravi mumble something about not wanting Buck’s left overs.
They’re making eye contact again, and really, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. They’ve both always had a staring problem. Used to communicating with their eyes, amidst calm and chaos alike. But Buck must see something different in his eyes, something heavy like how Eddie feels, because he shies away from the glance.
They don’t talk again until the end of shift. Buck confirms Eddie’s coming over, and Eddie shares that Chris will not be joining, he has a robotics meeting that will likely last til 6 or so. Buck doesn’t change his mind, and Eddie’s relieved. They’ve became so used to having Chris as their buffer again since after New Mexico.
Eddie goes home and naps restlessly for a few hours. He showers, changes outfits a few times and eventually heads over to Buck’s.
Buck’s house smells enticing, which is no surprise given his aforementioned ribeyes. He walks on in, unlocks the door for himself as he’s done several times before.
Buck’s in the kitchen, apron on, and tossing a salad. The steaks are cooling on the countertop and Eddie’s mouth waters. Both for the food and for the man preparing it.
“Hey, I have some fresh lemonade in the fridge.”
Eddie cheers and heads to the fridge, “I was craving some of this all week, man.”
Buck laughs, “I figured. Starting to get hot outside again.”
Eddie sets the pitcher on the counter, but his mind slows down as he reaches for the glass. Hadn’t he mentioned lemonade earlier in the week actually? Did Buck, remembering this, hand squeeze enough lemons to produce Eddie’s favorite summertime drink?
“Buck, did you make this for me?” He asks, still looking up into the glassware cabinet.
Buck replies quickly, not knowing how Eddie’s brain has been shifting the past 24 hours, “Of course.”
Eddie turns abruptly, which pulls Buck’s attention from where he’s buttering a loaf of what Eddie can only assume is the sourdough bread he loves.
When did this happen? Has this always been this way? The resounding answer feels similar to an ice bath, and makes Eddie shake all the same. Eddie mentions he loves something that Buck has made, and suddenly, there’s a lot more of it around. Eddie mentions something he doesn’t like, Buck either makes less of it or keeps it from intermingling with Eddie’s food. Eddie remembers the cauliflower steak Buck had made a few years back, and how he had told Buck he didn’t like cauliflower.
“You don’t cook cauliflower anymore, Buck.” Eddie says, breathless.
Buck has a bewildered expression, but answers still, calmly, “You don’t like cauliflower, Eddie.”
“Yeah, but most people do. Your sister and Chimney loved that dish.”
Buck blushes slightly, almost unnoticeable with the afternoon sun shining brightly into the kitchen and into Eddie’s eyes.
He shrugs slightly, and replies “Well, I don’t cook for them much.”
Buck grabs the steaks, plates them, and starts to carry it to the dining room. Eddie follows closely behind him, not bothering to lend a helping hand. There are more important matters at hand.
“Hen hates banana nut muffins.”
That causes pause- and drags a deep sigh out of Buck. “What do you want me to say, Eddie?”
Eddie doesn’t answer quick enough though, and Buck’s getting agitated. He walks back into the kitchen and dramatically, as one can, grabs the side dishes. Eddie grabs the lemonade and two glasses down from the cabinet, finally.
They sit at the table, the silence much more tense than usual.
“Thanks for cooking tonight.” Eddie says, trying to ease the tension.
Buck, who is stuffing his face now, clearly to avoid conversation, shrugs.
“I wasn’t trying to embarrass you Buck, I mean it. I appreciate everything you do for me.” Eddie says, still not touching his food.
Buck pauses between bites and sets his fork down roughly. “It’s weird. I get it, I seem like I’m a fucking stalker now.”
Eddie snorts, and shakes his head. “Buck,“ he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the brutal disclosure he’s about to make, “I have been buying your shampoo since you moved out. I don’t use it, I just… smell it sometimes when I miss you.”
Buck looks up with a mix of surprise and awe on his face. “You miss me?”
“Are you serious, Buck? That’s what you took from that?”
Buck laughs, brightly, reminding Eddie suddenly of how lucky they are to be sitting here after the last two months. He says, titling his head, “I am not saying that that isn’t weird, but it doesn’t… bother me? Is that weird?”
“I don’t think so, but other people probably would.” Eddie says, picking his fork up now that the tension has settled. He takes a bite of the steak, and as it settles in his mouth he lets out a sound of pleasure. “You’re a magician.”
He opens his eyes and meets Buck’s. “It’s your abuela’s recipe. She has told me it was your favorite rub for ribs, so I thought I’d try it on steak.”
And that does it, the walls that have been cracking for ages seem to finally fall. The sudden jolt leaves Eddie speechless and soft. Buck continues eating, unaware that Eddie’s world has violently halted to a stop.
“Buck” Eddie says, staring.
Buck looks up, with a mouthful of lettuce.
“You love me, don’t you?” Eddie asks, but he’s not really asking for himself at this point. Sure, confirmations always nice, but Eddie feels Buck’s love. He’s been feeling Buck’s love.
There first year of knowing Buck, Chris told Buck that him and Eddie love casserole dishes. Eddie, truthfully, wasn’t the biggest fan of them back then. It was just what Pepa and his abuela had sent them home with frequently for the week. Eddie remembers going to Buck’s for the first time with Chris in tow, long before the tsunami almost ripped them both from his life, and seeing a steaming casserole sitting in the middle of the dining table. Chris had squealed, and Eddie had found a new love for casserole.
Buck doesn’t answer, just stares at his plate like it’s suddenly offended him. He realizes that Buck may feel called out, now. He realizes that Buck may feel exposed, or alone, with this revelation.
Eddie grabs his hand, almost roughly, and forces eye contact. “Buck, I love muffins. I love lemonade, and sourdough, and this marinade, and I love you for doing all of this for me.”
Buck’s eyes water quickly, and he squeezes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t mean to do too much, Eddie, I-“
“It’s not too much. It’s the most thoughtful habit in the world. Tell me you love me?” He asks, scooting his chair closer, desperate.
A single tear falls from Buck’s eyes and Eddie catches it quickly, wiping it away.
He’s looking at Buck’s lips now, finally allowing himself to cross the line he’s been toeing for too long.
Buck breaths in and holds it, before physically relaxing into Eddie’s touch. “I love you, Eddie.”
Eddie barely lets the words settle before he shoves them back in with his tongue. He can taste it all on Buck’s breath. All of Buck’s love in all of Eddie’s favorite foods, and in his abuela’s marinade recipe. He pulls Buck’s chair forward suddenly, and the other man moans loudly, picking up intensity in his kisses. He drags his hands through Eddie’s gelled hair, and Eddie slides his hands under Buck’s shirt, feeling the tensing back muscles.
The front door opens loudly, and the two of them separate quickly. Seconds later Chris appears in the foyer and throws his book bag down onto Buck’s bench. “It smells fucking gooooooooood.”
“Language,” Eddie says, clearing his throat, at the same time Buck says, “Grab a plate from the kitchen.”
They make eye contact again as the sound of crutches echos through the house and Eddie smiles widely.
Buck matches his grin, and scoots his chair back into it’s spot.
Chris joins them at the table, and him and Buck chat aimlessly about sciencey things as Buck scoops things into Chris’s plate. Eddie settles back into his chair and lets himself feel the love sitting at this table.
“Did you make me brownies, Buck?” Chris asks, stuffing his face.
He’s about to remind his son about manners when Buck replies, smugly, “Yep, and more of those cookies your dad liked.”
Eddie stops himself- smiling, again, because apparently that’s something he’s going to have to get use to. “Of course you did.”