Chapter Text
The ride back to the station was silent. Their shift was finally over and everyone was too tired to speak, too bone-dead tired to do more than lean back against the bench seats and let the silence stretch out.
Buck's head thudded softly against the metal wall of the truck, eyes half-lidded, lashes dusty with soot, curls matted against his forehead — full of sweat and more soot. Across from him, Eddie sat with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging limp between his legs. His turnout gear was streaked with black, a smear of something dark across his cheek. They’d all seen worse fires, but this one had gone long. Longer than it should have. Heat that didn’t let up, smoke that clawed down their throats. At some point, it stopped being adrenaline and just became survival.
When the truck finally rolled to a stop back at the station, no one moved right away. It was Hen who groaned first, pulling herself to her feet like she was lifting weights.
“Home, shower, bed. Don’t talk to me,” she mumbled, already unlatching the back doors.
“Seconded,” Chim said hoarsely.
Buck stood slowly, every muscle protesting. Eddie followed, footsteps dragging, but as they stepped off the truck together, Buck caught the faintest flicker of a smile on his face — something soft and tired and maybe meant just for him.
The overhead lights were bright and sterile, a harsh contrast to the slowly darkening sky outside. Buck peeled off his jacket, wincing as the stiff fabric tugged at his shoulder. His undershirt clung to him, damp with sweat and streaked with ash. Everything smelled like smoke. His skin itched with it.
“I need, like...a car wash,” he muttered.
Eddie snorted quietly as he reached for his own gear. “They should just hose us down in the bay.”
“Honestly? Wouldn’t complain.”
They exchanged a look — exhausted, amused, and maybe something else humming just under the surface — and then Buck tilted his head toward the parking lot.
“Come on. Let’s go home.”
Eddie didn’t answer, but he followed. He always did.
By the time they pulled up outside the house, the sun had finally dipped below the horizon. Buck parked in the driveway and just sat for a moment, fingers curled loosely around the steering wheel, letting the engine tick down beneath them.
Eddie didn’t move either. Just sat in the passenger seat, head tipped against the headrest, looking out the window like he was still watching flames lick at rooftops.
Eventually, Buck sighed and pushed the door open. “Come on. If I sit here any longer, I’m gonna pass out and sleep like this. And I really don’t want to wake up with a seatbelt-shaped indent.”
Eddie snorted softly but followed, their boots dragging up the short walkway to the front door. Buck unlocked it with muscle memory alone, barely noticing the way Eddie’s shoulder brushed against his as they stepped inside.
The cool, familiar dark of the house met them like a balm. It still smelled faintly of coffee from their morning routine, and Buck’s hand found the light switch on autopilot.
He dropped his bag by the door with a groan, scrubbing a hand through his hair and immediately regretting it when soot rained down over his face.
“I swear to God,” he muttered. “If I cough up black stuff in the night again, I’m quitting.”
Eddie let out a tired laugh, his own bag thumping to the floor.
Buck kicked off his boots and started toward the hallway, but stopped short and groaned, dragging both hands down his face this time. “Shit. I did laundry this morning. My sheets are still wet in the washer.”
Eddie blinked at him, already pulling off his hoodie. “You didn’t move them to the dryer?”
“No, I forgot,” he groaned again — this wasn’t the first time he’d forgotten — “At this point, I’m just gonna sleep on the mattress. I really don’t care,” he tried but failed to stifle a yawn.
Eddie shrugged, like it was no big deal. “Just share with me.”
Buck raised an eyebrow. “Your sheets?”
“My bed,” Eddie clarified, unbothered, already headed toward the hallway. “It’s not like we’ve never shared before.”
That stopped Buck in his tracks for half a second. It was true — they had. Long shifts where one of them crashed at the other’s place. Late nights with movies that turned into early mornings. Firehouse bunks. Hotel rooms. Lockdown. It was never weird. Not so far anyway.
Still — something about hearing Eddie say it now, in that casual, no-big-deal voice, tugged at something low in Buck’s chest.
“You sure?” he asked, voice quieter, softer in the dark.
Eddie looked over his shoulder, already halfway to the bathroom. “Yeah. You’re the one who’s too picky to sleep on the couch anyway.”
Buck huffed a laugh, but he couldn’t deny it. He was picky. He just hadn’t realized Eddie had noticed.
“Thanks,” he said, trailing after him. “I promise not to drool on your pillow.”
“I should hope not,” Eddie called back, and Buck could hear the grin in his voice.
Eddie’s bedroom was dark except for the one bedside lamp. Buck dropped onto the edge of his side of the bed with a tired grunt, tugging at the collar of his shirt where it still clung to his skin, finally pulling if off and letting it land on the floor.
“I’ll shower later,” he mumbled, now already reaching for the button on his pants. “I just want to sleep for, like, a year.”
He’d barely reached for the zipper before Eddie’s voice cut through the dimness — dry, unimpressed, and unmistakably firm.
“Don’t think you’re getting in my clean sheets looking like that, Buckley.”
Buck froze mid-motion; fingers paused mid-zip. “What?”
Eddie flicked on the bathroom light behind him, casting a sliver of brightness across the room as he leaned against the door-frame, arms crossed over his chest.
“You smell like a fire,” he said flatly. “And your hair is disgusting.”
Buck blinked at him, half-offended, half-amused. “Wow. Don’t hold back.” He laughed as he stepped out of his pants.
“I’m serious.” Eddie nodded toward the ensuite. “Five minutes. Rinse the apocalypse off and then you can collapse.”
Buck groaned dramatically, sitting back down on the mattress with a thud. “But I’m so tired.”
“Buck.”
“Just let me wallow in my filth like a gremlin—”
“Buck,” Eddie said again, more pointed this time, and he pushed off the door-frame. “Don’t make me do it for you.”
Buck froze as he looked up at him from the bed, his curls sticking to his forehead, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
“What?” he asked, his brain still not comprehending quite what he had heard.
Eddie pushed off from the door frame and moved to stand in front of Buck. “If you’re not going to do it yourself, then I’ll do it for you.” He repeated, his hand moving up to tug at one of Buck’s ash filled curls.
Buck felt himself swallow — hard — as he struggled to maintain eye contact.
“You’re bossy when you’re tired,” he muttered as Eddie tugged at another curl.
“And you’re gross when you’re tired,” Eddie shot back, turning back towards the bathroom. “Now hurry up, I want to sleep just as much as you do.”
Buck watched as Eddie pulled a towel off the hook and lay it over the edge of the bath tub. He opened his mouth, trying to protest again, “But—”
“Sit down, Buckley.” Eddie ordered, pointing to the floor in front of the bath.
Buck just stood and did as he was told.
He sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, the cold tiles pressing against his bare thighs, in nothing but his boxers. He leaned back slightly, head tilted back over the edge of the tub where Eddie sat above him, sleeves rolled up, feet in the tub and focused like this was just another task that needed doing. Like Buck wasn’t barefoot and half-naked on the floor, his curls full of soot and his throat a little dry.
“This is ridiculous,” Buck mumbled, trying to glance up without breaking his neck. “I could’ve just done it myself.”
Eddie arched an eyebrow, grabbing the detachable showerhead and testing the water with the back of his hand. “You said you wanted to pass out, remember? I’m just helping you get there faster.”
Buck huffed, but didn’t move.
He reached to shift his weight — and winced as his elbow bumped the toilet beside him. “My curl stuff’s in the other bathroom,” he added, in a last-ditch protest.
“I’m not hiking across the house to get your fancy mousse,” Eddie said, opening the cabinet under the sink instead. “I’ll just use Chris’s stuff. It’s for curls, and I know you’ve used it before.”
Buck didn’t argue. He couldn’t — not when Eddie was already crouching down beside him, setting out a gentle shampoo and conditioner, his movements calm and practiced. Like this wasn’t strange at all. Like this was just a thing they did sometimes.
But it wasn’t.
“Alright,” Eddie said softly, thumb brushing Buck’s temple as he gently guided his head back over the rim of the tub. “Tell me if it’s too hot.”
Buck nodded. Then flinched as the first rush of warm water hit his scalp.
“Too hot?”
“No. Just—cold bathroom, hot water. I’m fine.”
Eddie didn’t respond, just adjusted the angle of the sprayer and ran his fingers through Buck’s curls, separating the tangles slowly as the water soaked in. A steady stream poured down, washing the ash and soot away in waves of dark grey. The first runoff swirled down the drain, nearly black. The second, only a little clearer.
“Jesus,” Buck murmured, his nose wrinkling at the smell coming from his hair. “I must look like I crawled through the fire.”
“You kinda did,” Eddie said quietly, working his fingers through another knot, patient and deliberate. He reached for the shampoo and poured a small amount into his palm, rubbing it between his hands before easing it into Buck’s hair.
And that’s when Buck went still.
Eddie’s fingers pressed carefully, not just scrubbing but massaging — small, slow circles at his temples, down along the back of his head, across the crown. He worked the shampoo in deep, thumbs gliding behind Buck’s ears, and every nerve in Buck’s body seemed to go hyperaware all at once. The heat of the water. The steam curling around his shoulders. The deliberate quiet of Eddie’s focus.
He should’ve said something. A joke, maybe. A comment about being spoiled. But the words caught in his throat — and then vanished entirely when Eddie’s nails grazed lightly across his scalp, and his whole body seemed to exhale.
Buck’s eyes fluttered shut.
The scent of Chris’s shampoo filled the space — clean, light, familiar. His muscles eased. He let his arms rest against his thighs. Let himself just… be.
Eddie didn’t speak. Didn’t rush. He rinsed with the same care he’d used to lather, one hand steadying Buck’s head while the other angled the sprayer just right, water running in warm ribbons down the back of Buck’s neck and into the tub. Another wave of soot and soap swirled down the drain.
“You still with me?” Eddie asked quietly, like Buck might’ve drifted off completely.
Buck’s voice was a murmur. “Mm-hmm. This is illegal, by the way.”
“What is?”
“Being this good at washing hair.”
Eddie chuckled softly, but didn’t respond. His fingers returned, gentler this time, easing through Buck’s damp curls to check for any leftover ash. There wasn’t much left now — just soft, clean strands and flushed skin and a silence that felt heavier than it had before.
Not uncomfortable. Just… full.
Buck didn’t open his eyes. Not yet. If he did, he might have to say something. Acknowledge something. And he wasn’t sure what would happen if he did.
For now, he just let Eddie keep touching him.
And Eddie didn’t stop.
His fingers didn’t pause — they slipped back into Buck’s curls, this time pouring a little more shampoo into his palm before gently working it back into the damp hair. The suds blossomed quickly, thick and foamy, and Buck felt the coolness of the air mingling with the sudden sting of the shampoo on his scalp.
It was like a fire, all at once.
Not the fire outside, but a different kind — the one that flared deep inside, wild and unpredictable and nearly impossible to name.
His muscles tensed again beneath Eddie’s touch, every careful stroke suddenly electric. He wanted to tell himself it was just the exhaustion making his skin crawl, but the way Eddie’s thumbs pressed into his scalp, kneading slowly, deliberately, made that impossible.
His heart picked up a steady rhythm, like a pulse he hadn’t noticed before, and his mind whirled, scrambling for a safe place to land.
Why does this feel like so much?
Why am I letting him do this?
Why do I want him to?
Buck tried to focus on the feeling of the water running down his neck, the scent of the shampoo so clean it almost burned away the smoky haze clinging to him. He tried to think about anything else — about the fire truck, the heat, the long hours. But the world had shrunk down to this small, warm space between them, where Eddie’s hands moved with quiet care, and the only sound was the steady rush of water.
His eyes stayed closed, but inside, everything was wide open.
He felt Eddie’s fingers trace a slow path along the back of his head, then circle back around the crown, rubbing gently until the last bits of soot finally began to loosen and swirl away.
Buck’s breath hitched, caught somewhere between the tightness in his chest and the softness pooling low in his belly.
He wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this. Not the washing, not the way Eddie’s hands seemed to know exactly what to do, not the way he wanted to sink into the moment and never move again.
He just knew that, for once, letting go didn’t feel like losing control.
Eddie rinsed the last of the shampoo away, water cascading down Buck’s neck again. Without a word, he reached for the conditioner, squeezing a small amount into his palm. The thick cream glistened softly in the dim light.
He worked the conditioner into Buck’s curls with slow, deliberate strokes, fingers weaving carefully through the strands. Buck felt the cool contrast from the shampoo’s sting, the rich softness settling in.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Eddie said, voice low and steady, just enough to break the silence without pulling Buck out of the moment.
Buck shifted slightly, leaning his head back further against the tubs edge, eyes still closed. “Just tired,” he murmured, but there was a faint lift in his tone, like maybe he was testing the waters.
Eddie chuckled softly, thumbs tracing tiny circles near Buck’s temples. “Long day,” he said. “Would be nice to have someone offer to wash my hair sometime.”
Buck opened one eye, caught Eddie’s glance, and smirked faintly. “I’m sure there’s a question there somewhere.”
Eddie shrugged, unabashed. “Maybe. Depends on how good you are at it.”
Buck let his eyes fall closed again, breath softening. “I’m a quick learner.”
The quiet intimacy settled around them like a gentle tide, neither rushing nor retreating. Eddie’s fingers moved carefully, caressing the strain out of Buck’s neck, and for a moment, the rest of the world felt miles away.
Eddie let the water run clear over Buck’s scalp, fingers lingering as the last traces of conditioner slipped down the drain. The warmth of the spray was soothing, and Buck’s muscles finally relaxed, melting into the steady rhythm of the rinse.
When Eddie reached for a towel hanging nearby, Buck’s hand shot out, fingers curling firmly around his wrist.
“Don’t,” Buck said quietly.
Eddie blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
Buck pushed himself up from the floor slowly, water dripping from his curls onto his skin, and stepped toward the shower. His breath was steady but his eyes flickered with something softer, something bolder.
He took the shower head from Eddie and returned it to its cradle on the wall before he turned it back on, the water sputtering to life, casting a gentle spray into the tub.
Without breaking eye contact, Buck reached up, sliding his hands under Eddie’s shirt, fingers cold against warm skin as he slowly peeled the fabric up and over his shoulders.
“Let me return the favour,” Buck murmured, voice low and sure.
Eddie’s breath hitched, his usual confident edge softened by surprise — and something like hope.
Buck tugged at the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down slowly, the fabric slipping past his hips and pooling around his ankles. He stepped out, bare feet meeting the cool bathroom tiles, and glanced over at Eddie.
Eddie was doing the same, his own boxers sliding down with a practiced ease. Neither of them looked away, but there was a flicker of something — nerves, anticipation, something unspoken — in the way their eyes met.
It wasn’t embarrassment. Not exactly. More like the quiet thrill of stepping over a line they’d both been edging closer to without saying so.
Buck reached for the shower controls, fingers brushing against Eddie’s hip as he adjusted the temperature. The warm steam began to rise, curling around them like a soft curtain.
“Ready?” Buck asked, voice low.
Eddie nodded, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips.
Together, they stepped under the spray — two bare bodies, side by side, the water washing away the day and whatever might be holding them back.
Buck stepped closer, the soft spray of water warming his skin as he reached for Eddie’s shoulders, turning him gently until his back was to the water. Eddie’s hair was shorter, less tangled, but still thick and full, dark strands glistened under the warm spray.
Buck’s hands moved with the same gentle patience Eddie had shown him — fingers parting the wet strands, working the shampoo through any knots with slow, deliberate care. He pressed lightly into Eddie’s scalp, fingers massaging in small circles, just enough to soothe.
Eddie closed his eyes, jaw slackening, letting himself relax under Buck’s touch. The quiet sound of water mingled with the soft scrape of Buck’s fingertips, and for a moment the noise of the world fell away entirely — again.
They stood like that for a while — warm skin slick with water, sharing a moment that felt both familiar and new.
Buck caught a faint breath from Eddie, a soft sigh that was maybe contentment but wasn’t quite anticipation. Just relaxation, and maybe comfort too.
Neither said anything. Words would have only broken the moment.
When Buck reached for the conditioner, he paused, brushing a loose strand of hair from Eddie’s forehead, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Buck’s gaze, a quiet understanding passing between them.
Care, yes. And maybe something more.
Eddie’s hair was finally washed and both of their bodies were clean when Buck shut the water off, leaving only the soft drip of water falling from his slick curls, and droplets running down Eddie’s chest. They stood side by side in the warmth of the fading steam, neither moving, just breathing — chests rising and falling, wet hair plastered to their foreheads, skin glowing in the soft bathroom light.
The silence between them was comfortable, full — like a quiet promise.
After a moment, almost simultaneously, they reached for towels hanging nearby. Buck grabbed one first, pulling it around his shoulders and started to pat himself dry.
Eddie followed, wrapping a towel around his waist and stepping close enough to reach out. Without a word, he took Buck’s towel gently from his hands, his fingers curling around the damp fabric as he squeezed the excess moisture from the curls he’d just washed.
“You don’t want them to frizz,” he muttered — voice low, almost a tease.
Buck didn’t pull away. Instead, he let Eddie’s hands work the towel through his hair, warm and familiar. There was something unspoken in the touch — trust, a soft invitation, hopefully something more.
When they finished drying as best they could, they moved back into the bedroom. Each reached for their underwear, pulling it on slowly, lingering just a little longer in the shared quiet of the room.
The room was dark when they finally pulled back the covers and slipped into bed. The sheets were cool against their freshly showered skin, a gentle contrast to the heat that still lingered between them. They lay side by side, not touching, the distance between their bodies feeling smaller than it was.
Neither of them said anything. The silence stretched out again, thick and charged with everything that had passed between them — the water, the hands in hair, the care, the closeness. It wasn’t awkward. Just... delicate. Like breathing near it too hard might change whatever it was becoming.
Buck stared at the ceiling for a while, his curls damp against the pillow. Eddie lay beside him, still and quiet, his breaths evening out slowly. The space was warm, comforting. Safe.
Eventually, sleep came — not all at once, but gradually, like the soft settling of rain after a storm.
In the morning, golden light crept through the slats of the blinds, stretching across the sheets and over the two men tangled together beneath them.
Buck woke first, still half-dreaming, his cheek pressed against a bare shoulder. Eddie’s arm was slung loosely around his waist, their legs tangled beneath the covers, skin warm against skin. At some point during the night they had obviously reached for each other — like even in sleep, they hadn’t wanted to be apart.
Buck didn’t move, not right away. He just breathed, slow and steady, his fingers resting lightly against Eddie’s ribs.
And when Eddie stirred a few minutes later, eyes barely open, he didn’t pull away either.
They just stayed like that — still, quiet, and closer than they’d ever dared to be before.
Eventually Eddie shifted slightly, just enough to nuzzle his nose into the crown of Buck’s now-dry hair. His breath stirred a few stray strands, and he let out a quiet huff of a laugh.
“Should’ve used your mousse,” he murmured, voice low and rough with sleep. “Your curls are a mess.”
Buck smiled against Eddie’s skin, not bothering to move. “You calling my hair messy after your shampoo job?” he mumbled, teasing, but soft.
Eddie let his fingers trail lightly over Buck’s back, lazy and affectionate. “Might need another round. You know. For the frizz.”
Buck hummed, eyes still closed, content. “You offering?”
Eddie didn’t answer, but his arm tightened just slightly around Buck’s waist — not quite a yes, but definitely not a no either.
And in the hush of the morning light, with tangled limbs and half-whispered smiles, it was enough.