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(yesterday my life was duller) now everything is technicolour

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"And yet, that is not the weirdest thing that's happened to me today," Buck muses in the back of the engine, and regrets it when three pairs of eyes snap to him immediately—Hen and Chimney look curious, and Eddie's eyes widen in the way Buck knows means Buck what are you doing. 

Right. He's not supposed to talk about the other thing. Not to Hen and Chimney, at least. 

"Buck, did you miss the part where we just put out a fire that was set on purpose to cleanse a possessed Barbie doll?" Chimney asks.

"It's barely gone nine in the morning," Hen chimes in. "What weirder thing could possibly have happened to you already?" 

Buck glances at Eddie, just long enough to see him shaking his head almost imperceptibly. He gives a tiny, hopefully reassuring nod in return, praying that Hen doesn't notice.

"I, uh, found a triple yolk while making scrambled eggs this morning," Buck says.

Chimney groans. "Buck—" he shakes his head. "There's no way triple yolk beats DIY exorcism." 

"Eh, I've seen more attempted exorcisms than I have triple yolks," Buck says. 

Chimney sighs and throws his hands up in apparent disbelief. "I don't know why I asked," he mutters. "Don't know what I was expecting."

"Hey, do you know what the most yolks ever found in one egg is?" Buck asks. Across from him, Eddie smiles and knocks his knee against Buck's.

"Buck, you have to know that we don't," Hen says. "But go on, I'm sure you're dying to tell us." 

"Eleven," Buck says, beaming. "Isn't that wild?"

"How does that even—" Chimney starts to ask, just as the engine pulls into the station. Buck is pretty sure he isn't the only one breathing a sigh of relief at not having to speculate about chicken reproduction.

Eddie takes his hand almost as soon as they're out of the engine and tugs him around the corner. The contact sends a shiver down his spine, even as he's mentally bracing for Eddie to tell him off.

"I'm sorry," he starts, trying to get ahead of it. "I know we said we wouldn't say anything yet, I didn't mean to, it just—"

"Buck," Eddie interrupts, sounding fond and amused and not the least bit mad at him. "I'm not—did you think I'd be mad at you?"

"Uh," Buck frowns. "Yes? People usually get mad at me when I fuck things up."

"You didn't fuck anything up, though," Eddie says, and takes a step closer so Buck is caught between him and the wall. He lifts a hand, cupping Buck's face and sweeping his thumb across Buck's cheekbone. "I mean, I still think it would be good if we could talk to Bobby first, figure out if there's, I don't know, some kind of HR paperwork to take care of, but it's not the end of the world if it doesn't go like that."

"I—oh," Buck says. "That's—okay."

"I'm not mad," Eddie says. "There's nothing to be mad about. I promise." He reaches up to kiss Buck, then frowns as he pulls back. "Should I be mad about you calling me a weird thing, though?" But his poker face is terrible, and he cracks a grin before he even finishes the sentence.

Buck grins right back. "Actually, the word weird originally had to do with fate, so I guess you could say I was calling you my destiny."

Eddie kisses him again, and right before he does, Buck realises he's smiling the same smile he had in the engine, when Buck had been talking about the eleven-yolked egg of lore. 

"Hey," he says, poking at Eddie's side. "Is this like a thing for you? The facts?" 

"You're a thing for me," Eddie says, settling his hands on Buck's waist. "So, yeah."  

Buck blushes, fighting the urge to look away from the intensity of Eddie's gaze. "You're kind of a thing for me, too," he says.

"I'm glad," Eddie says drily. "This morning would have been really awkward otherwise." 

"Oh, shut up," Buck says, and leans down to kiss Eddie. 

"Hey," Buck says, a moment or three later. "If you're not mad—"

"—not mad," Eddie says.

"—then why'd you pull me back here?"

"Oh," Eddie says. "I just wanted to do this." He kisses Buck again, so soft and slow that Buck can feel it in his toes. 

The alarm goes off just as Buck is about to contemplate doing something that is in no way appropriate for the workplace, and he sighs and drops his forehead onto Eddie's shoulder.

"Eddie," he says. "I love you, but did you really have to make your move five minutes before we started a twenty-four-hour shift?"

"Sorry," Eddie says. "Next time, I'll make sure to plan my spontaneous, blurted-out love confession a little better."

"That's all I'm asking," Buck says, and Eddie laughs.

"Alright, come on, we'd better go before someone comes looking for us."


The rest of the day passes in a blur of meaningful glances and stolen moments. Buck trails his fingers along Eddie's arm when he walks past the table Eddie is sitting at, and Eddie rests his hand on Buck's waist as he passes by. They sit unnecessarily close on the sofa, pressed together from shoulder to hip to thigh, and calls are punctuated by more than one interlude behind the ladder truck. 

Finally, day fades into night. Most of their team starts heading towards the bunk room, hoping to catch at least a little bit of sleep, but Buck and Eddie stay out in the station loft, curled together on the sofa. 

They start out respectfully enough, sure, just two people sitting next to each other, but it barely takes five minutes after the last person leaves the loft for Eddie to be tucked against Buck, his back to Buck's chest. Buck has his arms around Eddie, hands slipped under his shirt and just resting on the warm skin of his stomach. 

The lights are on low, and the only sound in the dim loft is the humming of the kitchen appliances. It makes the world feel a little unreal, like the only things that actually exist are Buck and the man in his arms. 

Buck only got to go to summer camp once before his parents decided it wasn't worth the money, but this feels a little like sneaking away from camp in the middle of the night with the boy from the next cabin over. Just the two of them in their own little world. 

"Hey," he whispers, quiet so he doesn't disturb the world sleeping around them. "I love you."

"I love you too," Eddie murmurs, pulling Buck's arm closer around him. 


Buck isn't sure what wakes him up some hours later, but he opens his eyes to see Chimney's face extremely close to his. 

"What's all this?" Chimney asks, grinning like he already knows the answer. 

"Uh," Buck starts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand. 

"Before you say anything," Hen says from somewhere behind Chimney, "You should know that we definitely saw your hands up his shirt."

"Yeah, okay," Buck says, and nudges Eddie awake. "Game over," he says when Eddie stirs.

"Huh?" Eddie asks, shifting and stretching. "What ga—oh."

"Good morning, Eddie," Chimney says, still grinning.

"Chimney," Eddie mutters. "Hen." He inclines his head in their directions, as much as he can while still mostly asleep and tangled with Buck's limbs.

"Important question," Chimney says. "When did this happen? As close to exactly as possible."

"Is this for a bet?" Buck asks.

"Well, he's not doing your astrological charts," Hen mutters. "And I don't really know what else he would need exact times for." 

"It was the thirteenth day of mind your business," Buck says, and feels more than hears Eddie's laughter against his chest. "At exactly ten past please let me sleep until there is an actual emergency that requires our attention." 

"Serves you right," Hen says. "Told you we should have waited until they woke up."

"Still not telling you when we wake up," Buck mutters. "Maybe if you hadn't rudely woken us for no reason." Eddie hums his approval, and Buck tightens his arms around him. 

Hen sighs, but Buck could swear he hears a smile in it. "Come on, Chim," she says. "You'll get it out of them eventually, we can let them sleep for now."

Chimney huffs as Hen leads him away. Buck hides his laughter in the curve of Eddie's neck, and presses a kiss to it as he drifts back into sleep.