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hyruling · 3 months ago

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buddie prompt finale eve here we go 45. feeling their temperature 🥺

Eddie’s hot.

Which, okay. That’s like saying Maddie is his sister, or Christopher is the best kid in the world, or Chim is an annoying brother in law. Objectively true, directly observable statements of fact.

But Eddie’s hot. Like, sweating all over Buck under two blankets hot. And normally, as a cold-natured person, Buck would be very into that. But he can feel sweat soaking through the two layers of Eddie’s t-shirt and Buck’s hoodie, pressed together as they are in the center of Buck’s bed. A new development in his life as Eddie’s roommate that he is handling very normally, by the way.

“Eddie,” Buck whispers in the quiet.

Eddie doesn’t stir. Buck reaches over him, trapped by Eddie’s head on his chest, and checks Eddie’s phone — three thirty-two in the morning. They have to be up for a shift in two and a half hours.

“Eddie,” Buck tries again, nudging him with his shoulder, but he’s still dead to the world. He hates to wake him from such a deep slumber — he tries to gently roll him off instead but Eddie clings, the way he tends to do in his sleep. A fact Buck is intimately familiar with after a month of sharing a bed.

“Hey,” Buck murmurs, and switches tactics. He gently pushes Eddie’s sweaty hair off his forehead and mutters his name again. Briefly, he wonders if he forgot to turn the air down before bed, but he can hear it blowing above their heads along with the fan. Eddie is a white noise snob, insists on keeping the fan and air purifier both on all night. He claims it drowns out Buck’s snoring, usually with a teasing lilt in his voice that drives him crazy, but honestly, he has a point. Buck’s never slept better.

Eddie finally stirs after Buck strokes his hair for a minute, snuffling into Buck’s neck with his eyes still closed. “‘S matter?”

“Nothing, it’s just a little hot in here. I’m gonna go turn the air down.”

“No,” Eddie says, voice pitched in an uncharacteristic whine. He wraps a sweaty thigh around Buck’s, effectively trapping him even further. “‘M cold.”

“You’re cold?” Buck asks incredulously. “You’re sweating Eddie.”

Eddie just groans, mashing his face against Buck’s neck, and it’s then that he can feel how warm Eddie’s face is.

“Hey, c’mere.”

He’s still half asleep himself, can barely muster the energy needed to manhandle a sleepy and slightly combative Eddie, but he manages to maneuver him around enough to lay a hand on his forehead. It’s hot, fever hot, and Buck is abruptly wide awake.

“Eddie, hey. I think you have a fever.”

“‘Kay,” Eddie mumbles.

“No, hey, don’t go back to sleep. We need to get some Tylenol in you, and some water.”

“‘M fine, Buck, lemme sleep.”

“I will, I promise, you just—you gotta let me get some medicine in you, okay?”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans. “Fine.”

He releases his grip on Buck, who scrambles out of bed, nearly tripping over the jeans he didn’t manage to get into the hamper earlier. He makes a pit stop in the kitchen for a bottle of water. In the bathroom, he grabs Tylenol and wets a washcloth, then returns to the bedroom to see Eddie curled into a ball under the comforter, shivering.

“Hey, sit up for me, okay?” Buck says. He perches on the sheets next to him and rubs his thumb over Eddie’s collarbone.

Eddie obeys with a little more gentle coaxing, eyes glazed and exhausted when he finally opens them. Buck gets him to swallow the Tylenol and presses the cool washcloth against his forehead. Eddie grunts appreciatively and downs nearly the rest of the water without Buck even nagging him.

“Throat hurts,” Eddie rasps, handing the bottle back. His shirt is soaked in sweat.

“Yeah, you’re sick bud. Think you caught that bug Jamison had last week.”

Eddie giggles for some reason, and says, “Bud. Bug. ‘S almost the same word.”

And Buck — normally, Buck would laugh with him. Would tease out more delirious ramblings, and secretly delight in how cute he is any time his inhibitions are lowered. But right now, after everything, all he can feel is a dull sort of panic climbing its way up his throat, making it hard to breathe.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Buck says with an uneasy chuckle. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“You’re my bud,” Eddie continues, poking Buck in the chest. His eyes are half-lidded, glinted with mischief, and he grins crookedly at Buck. “My—my bud bug. My bed bug, ha.”

His heart gives a helpless little tug, made worse by Eddie dragging his finger down Buck’s chest and curling possessively in the pocket of his hoodie. “Okay, Eddie. You’re pretty out of it, I think maybe I need to take you to an urgent care.”

“Nooo, it’s just a fever,” Eddie protests, tugging at Buck’s hoodie. “I can sleep it off.”

“Eddie—”

“No. Our deductible is like. Stupid high, bug, I can’t afford it right now.”

Buck is momentarily comforted that he can think about his deductible while in this state, but that bug nags at him. Almost as much as it sends heat flooding into his cheeks.

“My name’s Buck, Eddie.”

“I know that, Evan,” Eddie snarks, and at the rate Eddie’s nickname and full-naming him, Buck’s gonna have to call an ambulance for himself. “I’m not that far gone. Can I go to sleep now?”

“Let me at least call Hen—”

“Don’t bother Hen,” Eddie insists. “It’s the middle of the night, and I’m a medic. I think I would know if I was dying.”

“It didn’t—”

Buck cuts himself off. He can’t lay this on Eddie tonight, when he’s half asleep and zonked from fever. But Eddie latches on like a tick, eyes suddenly sharp, and the hand tucked in Buck’s pocket wraps around his wrist instead.

“Didn’t what?”

“Nothing,” Buck says. “C’mon, lay back down.”

“Buck,” Eddie says firmly, shockingly so. “We aren’t doing that again. Talk to me.”

“In the morning,” Buck tries, but Eddie shakes his head, presses his fingers into Buck’s pulse point.

“Buck.”

Buck sighs, knows Eddie won’t get any rest until Buck explains himself.

“It’s just. Bobby, he didn’t—he didn’t die in a fire, or in a rescue, he—he got sick. And I know, I know it’s not the same thing, you’re not—but I just. I don’t know. It’s dragging up some—some shit, I guess. I can’t lose anyone else. Especially not—”

He snaps his mouth shut with a click, but it’s too late. He’s laid himself bare, and for a moment he desperately hopes Eddie won’t remember this in the morning.

Eddie stares at him, mouth set in a small frown. The hand on his wrist squeezes, a gentle and grounding pressure against his thundering heartbeat. Eddie must be able to feel it, but he just strokes his thumb softly over Buck’s hand and says, “You’re right, it’s not the same. I’m okay, Buck. I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“I know,” Buck says. I’m going to make sure of it this time, he doesn’t. “But you’re a notoriously bad patient, so you need to trust me.”

Eddie chuckles, then coughs, a rough sound that makes Eddie wince. “Says the guy who wanted to come back to work a week after literally dying.”

“It was two weeks.”

Eddie waves a hand. His eyes are drooping again, and he shivers a bit. “Semantics.”

“Okay, come on. Let’s change your shirt and get you back to sleep. I’ll call Hen in the morning, tell her we’re not coming in.”

Eddie grumbles a bit about Buck not needing to take time off just for him, but Buck can tell his heart’s not really in it. Buck tugs off his shirt and grabs the first clean one he finds, which happens to be one of his. Not that either of them are paying all that much attention to that kind of detail anymore, another facet of his new living situation that he refuses to look at directly. He gets Eddie into it and makes him finish the bottle of water before he all but collapses back onto the pillows.

Buck climbs back in on his side, pulls the comforter up over Eddie’s shoulders when he starts shaking again. Eddie shuffles close like he’s going to koala himself around Buck again, but hesitates at the last second.

“I can—sleep on the couch,” Eddie offers around a jaw-cracking yawn. “Don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Oh, yeah, actually, would you mind?” Buck teases, just to see the look of shock and betrayal that passes over Eddie’s face. He doesn’t disappoint — Buck laughs, and Eddie swears in Spanish under his breath.

“It’s rude to tease a sick person, you know,” he says, then tucks himself back against Buck’s side, head pillowed on his chest

Buck snorts and pulls Eddie closer. “It’s too late anyway. I’m sure I’ll be right behind you.”

Eddie hums, drawls, “I’ll take care of you. If you are.”

Buck closes his eyes, and pretends the warmth spreading through him is from Eddie’s overheated skin. “You always do.”

He checks Eddie’s forehead again, and Eddie mutters sleepily, “Y’know, lips are a better measure of body temperature than hands.”

Buck stills, heart in his throat. “That so?” he croaks.

Eddie nods, jaw digging in Buck’s clavicle. “More sens’tive. I’m a medic, I would know.”

“Guess you would,” Buck manages with a soft chuckle. He wishes he had brought another bottle of water to bed, throat suddenly parched.

“So? What’s the verdict?” Eddie mumbles with a shoulder nudge, hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

And Buck, unable to deny Eddie anything in the best of circumstances, twists his neck and presses his lips to Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighs, and Buck would swear he leans into it, gives Buck no choice but to let his mouth linger over the dry, overwarm skin. Eddie’s hair tickles his nose — he can smell their shampoo and a faint hint of sweat, and breathes him in while he can.

“Still sick,” Buck declares, lips brushing Eddie’s forehead. “Go to sleep.”

He doesn’t respond, and Buck thinks maybe he’s finally drifted off. But just as he’s about to fall asleep himself, Eddie noses at Buck’s neck and murmurs, “Thanks, bug,” close to his ear.

It’s almost worth the misery of the weeklong cold he catches, just for that.

—

prompts xo

#my fic #buddie fic #911 abc #drabbles #yay for one more roommates fic before we get the real thing 🙏🏼#THANK U ANON how did you know that i adore sickfic. anyway enjoy this cheese on this buddie eve eve ❣️#also i’m so sorry bobby is dead in this again but unfortunately i love angst. im still an alive bobby warrior tho

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