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Between being in the military, being a firefighter, and being a dad to a wonderful but active kid who also happens to have cerebral palsy, it’s safe to say that Eddie has never been a heavy sleeper.
Which is why when he’s jolted awake in the middle of the night he is instantly alert, ears perking up for any signs of what might have woken him up.
After a few minutes he can finally relax when he hears the toilet flush, realizing Christopher had probably just gotten up to use the bathroom. Or Buck, who was currently crashing on the couch instead of his own apartment.
After Eddie was shot, Buck had pretty much moved into their house. First he had just been staying at the hospital to take care of Christopher, then staying to take care of Eddie, and at some point he had just become a regular part of the household.
And so, Eddie had gotten better, and now Eddie and Buck were in somewhat of a limbo. It definitely blurred their relationship beyond just the scope of platonic but neither of them were willing to be the first to acknowledge it.
What started as nightmares for Eddie turned into Buck finding him in the middle of the night to calm him down, which had then turned into Buck regularly sleeping on his couch, which somehow became Buck frequently falling asleep next to him.
To the point where Eddie had become accustomed to the comfort of Buck passing out in his bed, but Buck was covering for someone on the B-shift and had to be up at a stupid hour, and Buck was insistent that he didn’t cut into the few hours of sleep Eddie could manage before his physio later despite Eddie’s protests that he would be fine.
With his worry diminished, he feels the pull of exhaustion once more tugging on his eyelids and he lets his eyes drift back shut.
*****
He has no idea how long he sleeps for, but the next thing he knows he’s being pulled back into consciousness when a warm face is pressing into the crook of his neck. It's a familiar feeling, and Eddie instantly knows who it is.
“Hmm,” Eddie murmurs as he stirs awake. “Buck?”
“I don’t feel good,” Buck mutters. His quiet voice is nearly inaudible past the rustle of the sheets.
Eddie opens his eyes, rolling on his side to get a better look at him. Buck whines at the loss of contact.
“What’s wrong, baby?” The pet name slips out accidentally, but it’s easy. Everything is easy when it comes to Buck. Neither of them mention it, but Eddie can feel a little bit of the tension melt from his shoulders at the sentiment.
“My stomach hurts.”
Eddie frowns, squinting through the darkness to try and read Buck’s expression in the dim glow of the nightlight plugged in next to his bedroom door.
“Think you ate something bad?”
Buck shrugs wordlessly against him. A feeling of dread sinks in his gut. Two weeks ago Chris had come home with a stomach bug, one that Eddie had also ended up catching a few days later (which was not fun barely three months post gunshot wound). Enough time had passed that Eddie just assumed Buck had managed to avoid it but now…
“Are you feeling nauseous? Or does it just hurt.”
Based on the way Buck swallows thickly at the mention of nausea, he’s pretty sure he has his answer. But Eddie would still appreciate some kind of confirmation.
“Buck?” Eddie prompts gently, bringing a hand to Buck’s neck to trace careful circles into the skin.
“I dunno,” Buck groans. His voice is heavy with overtired emotion, and it makes Eddie’s heart ache in his chest. “I just don’t feel well.”
Buck tries to snuggle back into his side, clearly done with talking, but the warmth of his forehead against the bare skin of Eddie’s collarbone has Eddie pulling back again.
“Eddie,” Buck whines, and the pout on his face almost makes Eddie laugh if it weren’t for his current concern.
“Hold on, baby.” Eddie lifts the back of his hand to press against Buck’s forehead, moving it to each of his cheeks. Buck preens tiredly under the touch. “Do you want Tylenol? I can go grab some for you.”
“No.”
Eddie frowns, pulling his hand away now that he’s acknowledged the definite raised temperature. “You have a fever, Buck. It might make you feel better.”
Buck shakes his head, an action Eddie feels more than he sees when soft curls tickle the side of his face.
“Jus’ wanna lay with you. Sleep.”
Eddie chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Okay. Go to sleep then, Buck. I’m right here.”
“Mmm. Can you rub my back?” His voice is nothing but a sleepy mumble, and Eddie’s face melts into one of fond admiration as he complies until Buck’s breathing evens out to gentle puffs tickling his neck.
Memories of Chris making the same request over the years flash through his head, in bed recovering after surgeries or taken out by an illness. It feels right, to also do it for Buck. Like he’s family in the same way. He moves his hand in steady, consistent circles until Eddie feels his own eyes starting to drift shut.
****
Eddie doesn’t know how long they’ve been asleep for when the warm figure next to him abruptly sits up, the frantic movements and shuffling out of the tangle of sheets jolting Eddie awake. There are heavy footsteps on the floor and the medic in Eddie is on his feet and following the sound of the slammed door before his sleep-addled brain can even catch up to what’s going on.
Shit, Eddie thinks tiredly, rubbing at his eyes. He makes his way over to the ensuite, trying to decipher the boundary being set by the closed bathroom door.
He’s seen Buck through a lot. And Buck has seen Eddie through a lot. But the last time Buck was hurt, there was a much clearer line of what are we , and it very clearly on the side of ‘casual, completely platonic best buddies’.
Now, Eddie isn’t exactly sure what his position is anymore in this situation.
Pushing all of that aside, he knocks on the bathroom door.
“Buck? You okay in there?”
The only response is a choked off whimper that sounds close to a sob followed by the telltale sound of retching.
Shit.
Eddie tests the doorknob first– unlocked –before he slowly pushes open the door to reveal the downright pitiful scene in front of him.
Buck’s large figure looks impossibly small under the bathroom lighting, his knees pressed into the tile while his body is hunched over the porcelain while his bare back is drenched in sweat.
His shoulders tremble with each heave, and Eddie is quick to crouch by his side to lay a comforting hand against fevered skin. Up close, Eddie can see how Buck’s eyes are screwed shut as he heaves, tear tracks burning blotchy rivers down his cheeks.
“Alright, Buck. It’s okay, get it all up.” Eddie rubs deliberate circles into the tensing muscles of his back, murmuring sweet nothings in a low honeyed voice as Buck coughs and shakes, his whole body jolting with unproductive gags.
His whole body is trembling when he surfaces, and Eddie moves closer to support him as he slumps against the porcelain. Small curls are drenched in sweat and plastered to Buck’s forehead, and Eddie uses feathered fingertips to tenderly push his hair back.
“Think you’re done?”
Buck looks up at him with wide, red-rimmed, entirely vulnerable watery eyes and just shrugs, and Eddie feels his heart shatter into tiny little pieces.
The sudden urge to comfort, to protect, rushes so suddenly through his chest Eddie thinks it could knock him over.
“Oh, honey.”
Buck blinks and a rouge tear spills over, running slowly down his cheek. Eddie reaches out to brush it away and is reminded of the heat currently radiating from his very sick boyfriend best friend partner Buck.
Once ensuring Buck isn’t going to smash his head against the porcelain as soon as he’s on his own, Eddie stands up, groaning at the way his knees click as he reaches to grab a thermometer from the top cabinet.
Buck doesn’t even make his usual comment making fun of Eddie’s old man nature, and Eddie tries to pretend it doesn’t worry him.
Swiping it across his forehead, Buck’s eyes fall closed.
“Shit,” Eddie hisses at the blaring 103.6 flashing back at him. “We gotta get this down, Buck.”
“I don’t feel good,” Buck groans in response.
“Yeah, I bet.”
Eddie busies himself fussing over Buck and grabbing a washcloth that he wets with cold water to drape across the back of his neck.
“Leave it,” he instructs when Buck fidgets uncomfortably under the cool fabric, lightly smacking Buck’s hand away as it reaches up.
Buck cracks an open wide enough to send a half-hearted glare his way.
Eddie’s so preoccupied he doesn’t even hear the uneven steps making their way to his room.
“Dad?” Eddie’s head snaps up to see Christopher, fully clad in pajamas with tawny tufts of hair sticking up in every which way, standing in the bathroom doorway. His little face is scrunched into a worried look that honestly reminds him a little bit of Shannon. He pushes the thought away before he can dwell on it. “Is Buck okay?”
Eddie sighs. “Buck is gonna be just fine, buddy. He’s just got an upset stomach right now, but I’m gonna help him feel better.”
Chris seems to ponder this for a moment. “Are-are you going to get him ginger ale and crackers?”
Eddie looks at Buck, pitifully curled up on the bathroom floor and back to Christopher, who has since shaken off his sleepy demeanor and is looking back at him with wide, caring eyes. He knows his kid, and he knows there’s no way Chris is just going to go back to sleep right now.
No idea where he got that stubbornness from. (Eddie knows if he said that out loud, Buck would vehemently disagree, but he's sick right now, so he doesn't get an opinion).
“That’s a good idea, Chris. Why don’t you sit here and keep Buck company while I go get him some.”
Chris nods as he drops his crutches at the door, and his face is set determinedly as he plops down across from Buck, resting a hand on his knee and patting it carefully.
Eddie is glad when Buck manages to muster up a smile when looking at Chris.
“Thanks, Chris.” Buck sounds exhausted and his voice is strained, but it’s sincere.
Eddie feels okay leaving them there to make his way to the kitchen. He still tries to move as quickly as possible; filling up a glass with water, popping open a few cans of ginger ale to flatten them a little, and grabbing a sleeve of saltines and tucking a couple bottles of Gatorade from the fridge under his arm in record time before he’s hustling back to the bathroom that has become the central area of the Diaz residence tonight.
“What is your favourite Gatorade?” Eddie hears Chris asking Buck in all seriousness as he gets closer.
Buck looks up at the door when Eddie walks in, and he looks more relaxed than when Eddie had left.
Eddie holds up the white Gatorade he had grabbed. “Is it possible it could be this one?”
Christopher looks earnestly between the two, and beams when Buck nods.
“How did you know, Dad?”
Eddie just shrugs with a smile, cracking the lid and handing it to Buck who accepts it gratefully, taking a small sip. He goes to set the rest of the stuff from his hands down on the dresser.
Buck is setting the bottle of Gatorade down on the floor when Eddie walks back in and Eddie leans down to scoop it up and put it on the counter before it (inevitably) gets knocked over by either one of the other two in here.
That’s when Eddie notices Buck’s face has gone white again, his lips tinged green. His breathing has grown incredibly controlled, and Eddie’s swooping in to save him even before Buck sends him a panicked, pleading look.
“Alright, kiddo. It’s time to get you back to bed. You have school in the morning,” he says, hoisting Chris up into his arms with practiced ease.
“I can help take care of Buck,” he complains earnestly.
“I know, Chris. You can help him more in the morning, okay? Right now he’s gonna try and get some sleep, and you are too.”
Chris considers this. “Okay. Feel better, Buck!”
Buck ducks his head and manages a weak smile, and it’s genuine despite the obvious nausea and fatigue plaguing him. “Thanks, buddy.”
Eddie does his best not to rush tucking Chris back into bed and pressing a kiss to his forehead, but once he has softly clicked Christopher’s door shut behind him he all but runs back to the ensuite.
When Eddie returns, Buck somehow looks worse.
“Jesus, Buck, you’ve got it bad. Neither Chris or I had a fever like this.”
Buck cracks his eyes open from where his head is tipped against the wall, and something about his gaze looks…sheepish?
Eddie's eyes narrow instantly. “What?” he presses.
“Nothin’. ’s my own fault, was stupid.”
Eddie’s stomach sinks.
“How long have you felt bad for?”
Buck groans, scrubbing his hands across his face. “A few days.”
“ Dios , Buck. You’ve worked three shifts this week.”
“I know. Threw up at work yesterday, hoped it was just bad tacos.”
Eddie feels like ripping his hair out. “You can’t just do stuff like that, Buck.”
Anything Buck might say in defense is lost when a gag tears through his throat, and Eddie scrambles to push him back over the bowl.
“Okay, you’re okay. Get it all up,” Eddie switches his tone effortlessly back to one of low comfort. “But we’re coming back to this when you’re feeling better.”
This time when Buck retches, nothing comes up beyond the initial sips of Gatorade he had just taken. But he doesn’t stop, his whole body shuddering with each heave as his body attempts to purge what isn’t there. Eddie hums in sympathy, placing the newly cooled cloth back against his overheated neck and using his other hand to steady him. Buck leans into him, clearly exhausted, and aching for any way to ground himself beyond the disorienting malaise.
Eddie allows him to just sit there for a few moments, providing any and all consolation he can before he urges Buck to get somewhere more comfortable.
“You’re all empty, Buck. Let’s get you cleaned up and back and bed, how’s that sound?”
Buck shakes his head adamantly. “‘M not,” he gasps out between laboured breaths. Tears are running freely down his flushed face as he leans over and gags again, sobbing with the futile effort and awful feeling of sickness weighing down on him.
This time when Eddie reaches for him, Buck flinches away. Eddie pulls back instantly, his hand hovering, unsure.
“Do you need me to stop?”
The way Buck shakes his head does little to quell Eddie’s confusion, and he hates how helpless he feels. He hates feeling useless.
“What do you need?” Uncertain. Desperate. A far cry from his usual composed demeanor, his usual medic calm wavering under the messy emotions twisting their way into his inflection. He does his best to swallow them down.
“I just-I can’t–” A quiet gasp, a louder cough. “I feel so sick,” Buck manages, and Eddie can’t pinpoint the moment he started to sound like he was falling apart.
Buck’s choked sobs turn shallow and quick until he’s beginning to hyperventilate, the walls melting in shimmery waves around his eyes as his feverish haze smothers his lungs and drags his vision around in circles.
“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, and Eddie’s eyes widen when he watches Buck hold his breath to stop from crying.
Eddie reaches for his face, anxious to comfort– to protect –but stops short when he remembers how Buck had pulled away seconds ago and he finds his voice instead.
“Don’t do that, Buck. Breathe.” The instruction borders on scolding, but the softness doesn’t fade from his eyes as he lays a cautious but firm hand against Buck’s chest, watching his reaction with practiced eyes to see his response. Buck looks up at him through wet lashes, chest heaving.
“Nothing to be sorry for, love.” It feels like a knife in Eddie’s stomach when he realizes why Buck would be apologizing–the parents that made Buck feel like he was worth little more than a pat on the back and reduced him to a burden.
“Take a deep breath, Buck. You’ll feel better, just slow down. Copy me, okay?” Eddie takes an overly exaggerated breath to demonstrate. And if it’s partially for his own benefit, to tuck his anger against Phillip and Margaret Buckley aside until a more relevant time, well, no one really needs to know.
He coaxes Buck through another breath as he tries to follow his lead, hushed words of comfort as Buck slowly draws air in through his nose, breath hitching, and chokes on the exhale.
Eddie watches as Buck’s glazed eyes fly wide because he can’t fucking breathe and salty droplets of exhausted misery leave brazen trails down his cheeks as he loses himself again.
But Eddie is patient. He takes Buck’s hand in his own, unwavering and delicate. He etches consoling shapes into the warm skin with his thumb as he brings it up to his own chest, right by his heart.
“Breathe with me.” Eddie repeats his previous action, and somehow in the midst of all this he has ended up almost cradling Buck against him.
Eddie thinks it should feel weird. He would feel weird, if anyone were to walk in on them and see them sitting on the bathroom floor like this.
It should be ridiculous, and awkward, and confusing but it’s not because right now all he cares about is that Buck’s lungs are steadying with each inhale and his heart is beating less erratically at each passing second.
“That’s it, love, there you go,” Eddie murmurs his praise. “Just keep breathing with me, you’re alright.”
Buck takes another breath, shifting, and before Eddie can process anything else he has an armful of his distraught, tearful best friend and short curls pressing against his collarbone. All Eddie can do is hold him tighter because he knows Buck hasn’t slept well in days and his fever is way too high and he feels so sick and it’s too early in the morning for him to feel anything but disoriented and overwhelmed. This feels way too intimate, beyond any boundary they’ve toed at before, but Eddie doesn’t care. Not when Buck is half delirious with fever and feels like a burden after having a firetruck crush his leg.
He only pulls away once Buck’s cries turn into sniffles, and he can lay his palm back against his forehead.
“You’re really burning up, we need to get some Tylenol into you.”
We. The word comes easy, like it's obvious. Like it would be ludicrous for Buck to have to do any of this on his own. Still, he shakes his head, his fingers tightening where they’re clinging onto the back of Eddie’s shirt. “Just stay here.”
Eddie moves his fingers up to Buck’s hair, winding them in the soft strands and feeling his gentle puff of relief against his skin. “Not up for debate this time, love. Your fever is way too high, it’ll help you feel better.”
Buck groans softly, pressing himself further into Eddie’s chest. It catches him by surprise, just how clingy Buck is being. It’s no secret that they’ve long crossed the line of platonic, and had crossed it long before tonight. But something about the tender air between them and abating vulnerability makes their unlabeled relationship so much more real all of a sudden.
Eddie doesn’t have the luxury of dwelling on it, though. “We should get you cleaned up, and get you back in bed.” Not the couch , goes unspoken. “You need to rest.”
Buck hums, disinterested.
“Maybe we should get you in the shower…” Eddie pulls away to look him over; pale, eyes rimmed red, lips swollen, and shaking like a mild breeze could knock him over. “Scratch that. Although if we can’t get that fever down in the next couple hours, we’re gonna try that.”
Buck glares at him, and Eddie puts his hands up in mock surrender.
“Hey. It’s either that or we’re going to the ER, and I don’t really think–”
“No hospital,” Buck croaks, and Eddie cringes at how wrecked his voice is.
“Exactly. So, meds for now it is.”
Eddie grabs a nearly empty bottle of Tylenol–courtesy of being, well, shot somewhat recently–and dumps out two pills, handing them to Buck. He tries to be discreet as he turns around to rattle out one for himself and swallows it dry.
“I saw that,” Buck mumbles, despite his eyes being half-closed. “Are you okay?”
Eddie’s about to assure him he’s fine but decides to take a different tactic. “I’ll be a lot better if we can both make our way back to bed and off this bathroom floor.”
Buck looks like he’s about to agree earnestly until he pauses and frowns. “I see what you did there. You’re just trying to get me to go to bed.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows innocently, and Buck grumbles his protests but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in a flicker of tired amusement. Eddie pokes him lightly in the shoulder, but he’s pleased with the first real show of humour he’s shown since he’s been awake. Eddie laughs, and it’s maybe a little too loud, but it’s four in the morning and he feels too relieved now that Buck is a little more coherent to care.
*******
After carefully making their way back into Eddie’s room, Eddie deposits Buck rather ungracefully onto his side of the bed.
“Alright, Buck,” he says, clapping his hands together. I’m gonna make you some tea, and start defrosting some of Abuela’s chicken soup. I’ll be back soon, okay? Try to get some sleep.”
Buck’s murmur of confirmation is lost to the pillow he has his face buried in, and Eddie’s lips curve into a smile as he shuts the door softly behind him and heads to the kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, Eddie busies himself with pulling the soup out of the freezer and into the fridge along with the cans of ginger ales he left out, and putting the kettle on.
He shoots Bobby a text message letting him know that Buck is down for the count and most definite absolutely will not be making his shift in the morning. He’s unsurprised when Bobby texts him back, despite it being barely past 4am, with a message saying he hopes Buck feels better and to let him know if they need anything because he or Athena can stop by sometime in the afternoon.
He scribbles a few essentials down on the back of a receipt on the counter; Tylenol and white Gatorade being the main ones before taking a picture of it and texting it to Bobby with a thanks. He digs out a teabag–chamomile, which Buck insists is the cure to everything–and lets it steep while he pours himself a glass of water.
Bracing his hands against the counter, Eddie finally gives himself a moment to breathe.
He closes his eyes and counts to thirty, then counts all the way back down to zero. He chugs the glass of water. He pours himself another one, and drinks it too before placing his glass in the sink.
Finally, he feels human enough to head back to his room. He brings the tea, even though hopefully Buck will be asleep when he heads back in.
He grabs a bucket from the hallway closet on his way there as an afterthought, just in case, and finds his way back into his dimly lit bedroom.
Eddie is ready to try and get a couple more hours of sleep. He sets the tea down on the bedside table and the bucket down on Buck’s side of the bed. Buck is snuggled into a familiar sweater that is decidedly not his own with the hood pulled up over messy curls, and fondness swoops sweet and recklessly through his chest. Eddie’s sweater is tight around his shoulders, but it was oversized to begin with so the fabric of the arms reaches his fingertips and he looks adorable. Captivating enough that Eddie doesn’t even reprimand him for putting a hoodie on with so high of a fever, but he does subtly tug the duvet down to the end of the bed.
He does a double take at the small brown curls poking up from the other side of the sheet underneath, tucked snugly into Buck’s side.
“Christopher,” Eddie hisses. “Didn’t I just put you to bed?”
Chris has the decency to look a little sheepish, at least.
“Buck was sad,” Chris informs him. And god if him and Buck don’t look adorable
Eddie drags a hand down his face to hide a smile
“That was nice of you, Chris. But sometimes, we have to let Buck rest, okay?”
“I’m not bothering him.”
As if on cue, Buck’s sleeping form wraps an arm around Chris’ shoulders.
Eddie sighs, resigning himself to his fate and climbing into his side of the bed and clicking off the lamp.
“Alright, but you’ve gotta actually sleep, alright?”
Christopher nods into his side, snuggling in between the both of them. It’s silent for a few moments before Chris flips over so that he’s facing Buck.
“I’m sorry I got you sick,” he hears Chris whisper.
Eddie’s about to speak up to protest, to reassure him it’s not his fault when Buck’s tired voice fills the room, low and rumbling through the quiet.
“Not your fault, buddy. This kinda thing jus’ happens sometimes.”
He's clearly barely awake, but he opens his eyes to look right at Chris while he reassures him. And if that doesn’t warm Eddie all the way from his fingers to his toes...god. He doesn’t think anyone else has loved him, has loved both of them, the way Buck does. He doesn’t think he wants anyone else to.
“It’s time for you to get some rest, Superman. I love you, sleep tight.”
“I love you, too.” Chris has relaxed exponentially since hearing it wasn’t his fault, and Eddie’s heart hurts a little for just how much his nine year old cares.
Eddie leans in to press a kiss to the crown of his head, and Chris sleepily murmurs something unintelligible back, already on his way to dreamland. Eddie smiles softly into the darkness, and finds himself wondering when he ended up so domestic.
*******
It isn’t until Christopher’s breathing has long since evened out, and Eddie is sure Buck must be asleep until he hears the rustling of sheets and a soft moan.
He reaches carefully across his sleeping kid between them to smooth a hand across Buck’s back to try and help the discomfort abate.
“You really don’t feel well, huh,” Eddie whispers, almost to himself, and because he’s half-delirious with exhaustion himself it almost doesn’t process when Buck snorts softly.
“What gave it away?”
Buck’s mild snark surprises him, but it loosens some of the concern coiled in his lungs.
“Dumbass. I’m caring about you. Let me care.” It’s light, airy. Something that feels normal between them.
Silence encompasses the space, and Eddie is mindlessly rubbing shapes into Buck’s shoulder blades. Neither of them know what to say. Something feels unfinished, and even though the Buck is half-asleep and his own eyes are leaden, he can’t bring himself to fall asleep yet.
“I’m sorry you feel so bad,” Eddie murmurs after a while, voice husky and sincere.
Buck shifts a little against his hand in acknowledgement.
“Mmm. ‘S okay. Least I have a hot boyfriend to hold my hair back,” he slurs tiredly, voice hushed to not wake up Christopher. He doesn’t understand that what he just said has Eddie’s heart practically exploding in his chest.
Eddie’s breath catches and his eyes dart across to look at Buck’s face in the dark, lips parting as he replays that one specific word in his head. “Boyfriend?”
Buck’s eyes fly open, alarmed, the cozy haziness melting from his edges as he begins to pull away from Eddie’s hand. “Unless that’s not–”
Eddie stops him quickly, gently latching onto his shoulder to urge him back towards the bed. Buck hesitates, but ultimately can’t resist the comfort as he dissolves back into the mattress.
“No, it is,” Eddie mends. “We just–I wasn’t sure.”
He pokes Buck in the side, testing the word out on his tongue. “Boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend,” Buck echos back, like a confirmation. Like a promise.
Eddie lets his head fall back into the pillow, a smile on his face.
“Okay, seriously. You’re sick. Sleep time now.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Buck mumbles, as if his eyes haven't already slipped back closed. “Do I get a forehead kiss too?”
It’s a little sarcastic, and a little nervous, like he’s unsure Eddie will actually do it.
But it’s Buck. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do.
Eddie pushes himself up and leans over carefully, pressing a firm kiss against the cusp of Buck’s feverish hairline. He’s still warm, way too warm, but not as alarmingly so as he was just an hour ago. It’s relieving. Buck hums in content and Eddie knows it will be less than a minute before he's out like a light.
Relaxing back into the mattress, Eddie melts and finally closes his eyes. With how Buck usually gets sick, he’s sure they’ll be up again in a few hours.
But for now he lets himself be embraced in the comfort of the Buck’s quiet snores and Christopher’s soft breathing. With Buck in his bed, and Chris tucked between the two of them, something about it is just right.
It feels special.
It feels like family.
And somehow, that’s enough to make everything feel okay.