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Buck has never been a fan of pet names.
He's been called them before. More times than he can count, really, but it's always sounded the same. Cheap. Transactional. Someone wanting something from him.
Babe. Baby. Sweetheart. They all blurred together into the same empty noise, the same hollow affection that never lasted past that one night.
The first time Eddie calls him one, he thinks it must be an accident.
They're in Eddie's kitchen, the air warm and sweet with vanilla and melting chocolate. The counter is a war zone of flour and sugar, smudges of butter on the countertop, and Christopher's uneven scoops of cookie dough lined up haphazardly on a baking sheet. Buck leans his hip against the counter laughing as Eddie tries to keep Chris from sneaking another handful of chocolate chips.
"Hey, chef," Buck teases, voice light. "pretty sure we're supposed to bake the chips, not eat them all first."
Chris giggles and holds up the bag. "Just making sure they're good!"
Eddie snorts, shaking his head. "You're just like Buck."
Buck points a finger at him, mock offense painted across his face. "I'll have you know my quality control is impeccable."
That makes Eddie laugh. That soft, easy laugh that makes Buck's chest ache in a way he never expected. The sound of it fills the small kitchen, low and warm, like it belongs here. Like he belongs here.
When Eddie reaches for the baking sheet, still grinning, he says it without thinking.
"Can you grab me the spatula, baby?"
Buck freezes. The words hit him like a physical force. All soft and casual, yet somehow monumental. He's not sure Eddie even notices it at first.
They've only been dating for about a month. Sure, everyone jokes that they've really been dating for the last eight years. That all the nights spent on Eddie's couch, the unspoken care, the fierce loyalty was basically a relationship anyway. But this, the real thing, is still new. Still fragile. Sacred.
But Eddie just called him baby.
And Buck didn't hate it?
He should hate it. He wants to hate it. It's supposed to sound cheap, used up, wrong. But it doesn't. Not from Eddie. From Eddie, it sounds like sunlight spilling through the kitchen window. Like safety. Like something Buck's never thought he'd be allowed to have.
"Buck?" Eddie's voice cuts through the fog in his head. Buck's eyes snap up.
"...the spatula?"
"Spatula," Buck echoes dumbly, nodding. "Right. Yes."
He fumbles for it being him, nearly knocking over the bag of sugar in his haste, and hands it over.
Eddie takes it, but not immediately. His fingers close over Buck's for a second longer than necessary, the gentle pressure gaining him. "You okay?"
"Yes, of course." Buck's nod is too quick, too stiff, his smile a little too forces.
Eddie studies him for a heartbeat, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wants to ask more. But instead, he just murmurs a quiet, "thank you," and leans in to press a soft kiss to the corner of Buck's mouth before turning back to the bowl of dough.
Buck stands there for a moment, heart hammering against his ribs, staring at Eddie like he's seeing him for the first time all over again.
They finish the cookie dough in a kind of rhythm that feels domestic, almost easy. Christopher hums off-key to a song playing from Buck's phone, and Eddie bumps Buck's shoulder as he tries to fit one more cookie onto the already crowded tray.
"You're gonna make them melt together," Buck warns.
Eddie grins. "Maybe that's the point."
Buck rolls his eyes. "That's not how baking works."
"Could've fooled me, honey," Eddie tosses back absentmindedly.
Buck stills. Again.
Honey.
It shouldn't make his breath hitch, but it does. The words lands right in his chest, sticky and slow and sweet. Eddie said it so easily, didn't even realize he said it, but to Buck, it feels like the world just tilted a little on its axis. Eddie glances up, catches Buck's look, and smirks. "What?"
Buck shakes his head too fast, trying to cover. "N-nothing. You just- you said-" But he doesn't finish because Eddie chooses that exact moment to swipe a smidge of flour across Buck's nose.
Buck blinks at him, stunned.
"Oh, that's how it's gonna be?" Buck asks, voice already breaking into laughter.
Eddie barely has time to react before Buck scoops up a handful of flour from the counter and flicks it at him.
"Buck!" Eddie sputters, laughing, battling the flour away. "You're a child."
"You started it!" Buck shoots back, laughter bubbling in his chest.
They're both grinning now, caught up in something that feels light and alive. The air smells like sugar and butter and something golden. Eddie's shirt is dusted in flour, Buck's hair is full of it, and Chris's delighted giggles echo don the hallway as he watches them.
Flour dusts the kitchen like snow, thin trail of white marking every surface. And both of them. Buck laughs breathlessly, leaning against the counter as Eddie wipes a streak of flour from his cheek, only to smear more in the process.
"You've got something..." Eddie says, failing to hold back his grin.
"Yeah?" Buck challenges, eyes dancing. "Where?"
Eddie taps the side of Buck's jaw, feigning seriousness. "Everywhere."
Before Buck can respond, Eddie flicks more flour right at him. It hits his shirt, then puffs up like a small explosion. Buck gasps.
"Oh, it's on now."
Eddie barely has time to duck before Buck retaliates, tossing a handful back. Laughter fills the space. Real, unguarded laughter that echoes off the cabinets and settles into something soft in the air between them. They chase each other around the kitchen island, dodging utensils and stray cookie dough. Eddie catches Buck eventually, trapping him against the counter and pinning his wrists with a playful growl.
"Yield?" Eddie teases, nose brushing against Buck's.
Buck grins at him, chest heaving. "Never."
Eddie kisses him anyway, slow and sure, tasting sugar and heat and home. They pull apart and Buck's still smiling, eyes sparkling with that impossible combination of mischief and tenderness.
"Okay, truce?" Buck breathes.
Eddie nods, his hand still holding Buck's wrists. "Truce, even though you're a menace."
"You love it," Buck fires back.
Eddie hums, eyes softening. "Yeah, I really do, baby."
Buck stills again, just for a moment. The word hangs between them, small and fragile, like a secret. Then he kisses Eddie again, pulling him close, flour and all.
Eddie's thumb rubs slow circles against his skin, eyes searching. "You sure you're okay?"
Buck swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "Yeah," he says, voice thin. "I'm good."
But the way his heart is beating says otherwise.
Because no one's ever called him baby or honey like that before. Like it meant something. Like he meant something.
And as Eddie smiles at him, flour in his hair, warmth in his eyes, love written all over his face. Buck realizes that maybe, for the first time in his life, those words aren't hollow anymore.
They stand there, breathless and laughing, both of them dusted in white like they've been caught in the first snow of winter. Buck can feel the heat of Eddie's body even through their shirts, the steady weight of his hand still wrapped around his wrist.
The oven timer dings, shrill and bright, breaking the moment but not shattering it. Eddie huffs a laugh, brushing his nose against Buck's chest before stepping back.
"Cookies are done," he says, voice low, still warm from laughter.
Buck exhales, trying to find his footing again. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Cookies."
Eddie grabs an oven mitt, bending to pull the tray out. The golden brown cookies fill the kitchen with the smell of sugar and butter, and for a few seconds, the world feels impossibly small and soft. Just the three of them, a messy counter, and the quiet hum of the cooling oven.
Christopher bounds back in the room, eyes wide. "They're ready?"
Eddie grins. "They're ready, bud. But you've gotta let them cool a little first."
Chris groans dramatically and plops into one of the kitchen chairs, muttering something about unfair waiting times. Eddie chuckles and sets the tray on the stovetop, then turns back to Buck.
Buck's leaning against the counter, still covered in flour, watching Eddie like he's memorizing the moment. The soft crinkle of his smile, the little patch of flour still smudged near his temple, the way he looks so at home in his own kitchen.
Eddie catches him staring and raises an eyebrow. "What?"
Buck shakes his head, smiling faintly. "Nothing."
Eddie tilts his head, steps closer, crowding into Buck's space again. "You sure about that?"
Buck's heart stutters. Eddie's close enough that Buck can feel the warmth radiating from him, can smell the faint mix of cookie dough and something distinctly Eddie.
"You're a mess," Eddie teases softly, reaching up to brush flour from Buck's jaw with his thumb. "But you're my mess. My sweet mess."
That one hits even harder.
Buck swallows, voice quiet. "You've for a lot of names for me tonight."
Eddie smiles, thumb still resting against his cheek. "Guess you bring it out of me."
By the time they stumble into the bathroom an hour later, they're both a mess. The mirror's already fogged, and the sound of the running shower fills the silence between their laughter. Eddie reaches for the hem of Buck's shirt, and Buck lets him, his smile a little dazed, a little shy.
Under the warm spray, the world feels smaller, simpler. Eddie's fingers trace lazy circles on Buck's skin, washing away the last traces of flour. Buck leans into him, closing his eyes, and lets the warmth seep into the ache that always sits somewhere deep inside him.
"You okay?" Eddie asks quietly, rinsing soap from Buck's shoulder.
"Yeah," Buck says, but his voice cracks just a little. "It's just... you called me baby."
Eddie's hands pause, gentle and patient. "You don't... you didn't like that?"
Buck swallows hard, shaking his head. "No, I did. I just- no one's ever said it like that before. Every time someone used a pet name with me, it was... transactional. Like, they wanted something. Attention. Validation. Sex. And for a while I went along with it, because it was the closest thing to being cared for. But it always meant losing something in return. Like they were taking pieces of me to fill their own empty spaces."
Eddie's chest tightens. He turns Buck around, cupping his face with both hands, water dripping down their skin. "Hey. Look at me."
Buck does.
"With me," Eddie says softly, "it's never about taking anything from you. It's about giving. You don't have to earn it, or question it. You just have to know that when I say it- when I call you baby, or anything else- it's because I love you. Every single thing about you. For the rest of our lives, Buck. You got that?"
Buck's breath catches, eyes glistening under the steam. "Yeah," he whispers. "I got it."
Eddie leans in and kisses him, slow and reverent this time, like he's sealing the promise right into Buck's skin.
When they finally crawl into bed later, their hair still damp and limbs tangled, the room smells faintly of vanilla and soap. Eddie's heartbeat thuds steady against Buck's back, anchoring him in a way that nothing else ever has.
Buck turns in his arms, brushing his thumb across Eddie's jaw. "You know something?" he murmurs, sleep already tugging at the edges of his words.
"What's that?" Eddie asks softly.
"I really love you, baby."
Eddie smiles into the kiss that follows, his chest so full it almost hurts. "I love you too, mi amor."
And this time, Buck doesn't flinch. He just smiles and lets it sink in.