Work Text:
“Mr. Diaz?”
Eddie looks up from his phone and sags a little in relief when the same assistant nurse from earlier is looking at him with a gentle smile on her face. His legs stop bouncing, and the little old lady across from him says something like finally under her breath.
Look, he knows it’s just a wisdom teeth extraction. He does. It’s just—actually, he’s not going to defend himself. His boyfriend’s been dead to the world for an entire hour, and now he’s high on drugs and has stitches in his gums, he’s allowed to be worried. He’s allowed to hate that.
He gives the lady a look just for good measure and walks up to the front, where Amanda’s waiting near the welcome window.
“Everything went fine. He was cracking jokes until he got knocked out.”
Eddie huffs out a laugh. “Of course he was. Is he awake?”
“Should be waking up any minute. Follow me,” she says, opening the door that separates the practice from the waiting room.
Immediately, the sound of drills and that weird suction device gets louder, and Eddie fights back a shiver.
Buck’s room is all the way at the end, door propped open. The dumb beige chair is facing the window, so all Eddie sees is his hair. He didn’t bother putting gel in it this morning, his soft, short curls lit up by the sun peeking in through the blinds.
The monitor sounds, rhythmic. Buck’s heart is steady, pulse strong. Amanda grabs an information packet from beside the sink as Eddie plops down in the seat pulled up next to Buck.
Poor guy looks like he lost a fight. His cheeks aren’t swollen yet, but his lips are cracked and dry and a bit of gauze is poking out of his mouth, bloody. Eddie has to keep himself from reaching out and ghosting his fingers over his jaw.
“Swelling will be worse the first few days,” she says, and oh, okay, Eddie forgot she was in there. He twists, so he can look at her. “When he sleeps, he should be propped up. No exercise, no straws. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, he was telling us all about his paramedic boyfriend while we were setting up his IV.”
Eddie breathes out a surprised laugh and rolls his eyes but, of course, he can feel his face heat up. He turns back to Buck, lets himself reach out this time. He gets his hand in his hair, scratching his scalp gently. “Dork.”
Buck responds to it like that’s his legal name. His eyelashes flutter for a few seconds, he lets out this truly terrible little whimper, and then his eyes are opening, slow. He blinks. Once, twice, three times. And then he lolls his head to the side, catching Eddie’s eyes with a grunt.
Eddie raises his eyebrows and waits.
“Is it,” he says after a few seconds of silence, muffled. He looks a little alarmed at the sound of his own voice, like he doesn’t realize gauze is in his mouth. He tries again. “Is it time to get them out?”
Eddie laughs, a soft little breath. His heart clenches painfully in his chest, because Buck’s so goddamn confused and he looks so small, with his firehouse hoodie swallowing his body. “You already got ‘em out, Buck. It’s been an hour.”
Buck’s eyes widen, but, like, so slowly. Like a sloth. “What.”
“I know,” Eddie says, and takes Buck’s hand, smoothing his thumb over the cotton ball that covers where his IV once was. “Everything went okay. How do you feel?”
Buck doesn’t answer. Because he’s looking at his hand like he’s in another universe. A whole different reality. The monitor picks up a little, heartrate speeding up. Eddie’s about to say his name again, get him out of his head, but Buck’s speaking before he can. “Woah.”
“You okay, Mr. Buckley?”
Jesus. Eddie forgot she was there again.
Buck seems to notice her for the first time, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s got so much shit to say he doesn’t even know where to begin. He finally settles on, “You won’t believe this.”
Eddie’s a little peeved that he’s being ignored, but Buck’s heart is racing and he’s trying not to freak out about it.
“What won’t I believe?” Amanda asks. She’s talking to him like he’s in elementary school, and it makes Eddie laugh, just a little bit.
Buck moves his free hand and covers the side of his mouth, so Eddie can’t see it. “Eddie is holding my hand. Eddie.”
“Woah,” Amanda agrees.
Buck nods wildly at her, a little too hard, but his heart is slowing down, getting back to normal. His hand falls back down to his side. “I’ve wanted this for forever. Please don’t tell him.”
He’s not even trying to whisper anymore. Eddie squeezes his hand and wishes his phone was in his other pocket, so he could whip it out and record it for the work group chat. Chimney would get such a kick out of this.
“Oh, hi,” Buck says, still so muffled, attention back to Eddie. And then his eyes slowly go round all over again. “Did he hear me?”
“He heard you,” Eddie confirms. His voice comes out so tender that it’s a little embarrassing, knowing Amanda is right behind him. “Is that okay?”
“No,” Buck says, quick. He’s getting all worked up, eyes glassy and limbs slow where he’s trying to move around in the reclined seat. “You can’t know, it’s a secret. You’re a spy. Like whenever—Elton John.”
“Baby,” Eddie protests through a barely concealed chuckle. Not fucking Kingsman. “Shh. You’re not supposed to be talking. You have some stitches. And can you feel that gauze in there?”
Buck brings his other hand up to his cheek and pokes it, wincing. “I feel in love with you. Please don’t tell you.”
Amanda’s giggling behind them, but Buck isn’t even looking at her anymore. He’s looking at Eddie like he does all the time, like cartoon hearts should be shooting out of his eyes.
And, well.
Eddie’s a little bit of a bitch, so he just reaches out and cards his fingers through Buck’s hair again and listens as the monitor starts beeping faster for the second time.
“You won’t believe this.”
Buck inhales. “What?” he asks. Breathless. Eddie’s surprised he doesn’t start purring like a cat, the way he’s leaning into Eddie’s touch like a flower.
“I’m your boyfriend,” he says, even though he’s got a small velvet box hidden with his old high school yearbooks on his side of the closet. Even though the word doesn’t do them justice. Hopefully it can be replaced soon. “That’s why I held your hand.”
“No,” Buck gets out. He tries to sit up a little but Eddie puts his hand over his chest, soft but firm, keeping him steady. “Have we—kissed yet?”
Eddie snorts. Amanda’s probably going to tell everyone she knows about this. These two grown men came in, all gross and in love. “All the time,” he whispers, conspiratorially.
“Can you kiss me—right now?”
“I’d wait,” Amanda cuts in. She steps up to the right of them, giving Eddie a look. “Until you’ve found a nice tube of chapstick.”
“Yeah, Buck. We’ve got a lot at home.”
“We live together?”
Buck’s knocked out as soon as Eddie gets him into bed.
It was a struggle: take the gauze out, get the painkillers down, replace the gauze, get an ice pack, all while Buck’s whining and flailing around with his inflatable car wash man limbs.
But they get in bed eventually. Carla’s picking Christopher up from school today, so he’s good to just—lie there and watch him, like a creep.
His eyes keep straying, though. To the damn closet door.
It would be an asshole move to propose while Buck looks like a chipmunk, right? While he’s out of his mind and sounds like he’s got a dozen marshmallows in his mouth?
Probably.
Buck moves closer to him, already dreaming, one of his hands fisting into the front of Eddie’s shirt.
God. Eddie really is gross and in love.
“You won’t believe this,” he whispers. There’s a long pause where he just smiles at Buck’s open-mouthed sleeping face. “I bought a ring a week after you kissed me.”