Archive of Our Own

Summary:

“Smells good,” Buck says, and Eddie hums. “It’s three am, you don't need to cook for me,” he ends up saying anyway.

“I’m not cooking,” Eddie points out. “I’m heating up leftovers. I made Linda’s mushroom soup last night.”

“Oh, that’s what that is?” Buck questions, immediately curious, as he takes a few steps closer, Eddie’s bicep brushing his clothed chest as he peers into the pot. As he does so, the scent only becomes stronger, wafting up into his nose. “Chris approved?” He asks, then, to which Eddie nods.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “It’s good - here,” he says, then, smoothly pulling one of the drawers out and retrieving a small spoon, which he then dips into the thick, pale soup. “It’s hot,” Eddie warns, as he turns the stove off, and brings the spoon up to Buck’s lips. Right as Buck parts his lips, Eddie hurriedly brings a hand up beneath the spoon, catching a falling drop, and in the process, the pads of his fingertips brush the underside of Buck’s chin, right as his lips close around the spoon.

 

(Or: Buck comes home from an extra shift, and Eddie makes him dinner.)