Chapter Text
Buck waited awkwardly behind Eddie as they waited for the hotel receptionist. It was a nice, clean, Nashville-city hotel. The place had twenty-two floors and chandeliers decking every ceiling—which pushed and pulled at the straining headache behind Buck's eyes.
"You boys looking to book a room?" called out the receptionist as she made her way out of the back room.
"Yeah, a double, please," Eddie told her.
Buck didn't say much as Eddie and the receptionist went back and forth, discussing payment, luggage, breakfast and dinner amenities, all too much for the state Buck's head was in. All he needed was simple now. A shower and bed. He'd stuff down his disappointment and guilt for getting them disqualified from the games—until it occurred to him—neither of them had told everyone at home what happened. They were too busy dealing with the protocol, finding a hotel to stay in, a car to take them home to LA, etc.
So, like one with a concussion does, Buck pulled out his phone from his back pocket as Eddie wrapped up his conversation with the receptionist. He scrolled through his contacts, the blue-light pulsating like it hadn't done before. Maddie. The last person he'd texted. She'd be a good person to text, he thought; she'd tell Chim, then Chim would tell Hen, Hen would tell Athena, Athena would tell Harry and May, they'd tell Ravi, but then who would tell Chris?--
"Ah-ah," Eddie taunted, snatching Buck's phone clean out of his hands before he could get a word in to Maddie. "Doctor's orders, no phones. We're room 1221."
"I need to text Mad-die," Buck contended, voice breaking as he reached out (and missed) for his phone. He surrendered to Eddie going full paramedic mode, putting his hands up mock surrender. "Fine. Can you?"
"Yes, Buck," Eddie assured him, putting his empty hand on Buck's back to steadily guide them to the elevator. "I will call them."
Buck swatted Eddie's hand off of his back, as much as he wanted it there—needed it there— he couldn't seem weak again after already messing everything up at the games. It would only make him look more weak if Eddie called everyone on his behalf and told them how much of a failure Buck was during the race. "I'm fine," Buck argued. "This is just great. No phone, no alcohol, no work, no sex..." Buck's voice trailed off into muttered complaints as the elevator door closed.
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The hotel door shut with a quiet and lonely click, really settling in and emphasizing on the silence between the two of them. The silence was agonizing. Buck was distraught, ridden with unwarranted guilt, and Eddie was just doing everything he could to put up with Buck's complaints and needs and to prepare for the long trip ahead of them.
Eddie showered first, not before setting Buck up on his bed with pillows to stand his head up, hiding his phone and the TV remote, and dimming the lights.
-
"You gonna try and shower?" Eddie asked, making his way out of the bathroom. He asked while mindlessly ruffling and drying his damp hair with a towel. It made Buck's heart flutter for a reason he didn't want to think about or identify, the way Eddie's smell filled the air, how all he could smell was Eddie's travel-sized cologne and Chris's shampoo because the bottle was the only one small enough to make it through TSA.
Quickly snapped out of his thoughts and slightly offended by the use of the word try, Buck rebutted; "I can still shower perfectly fine," with a smile and a hand-gesture to show off how perfectly balanced he was. Until he faintly stumbled over his own foot. Eddie quickly leaned forward, putting a hand out, but again, Buck swatted it away again. He was fine.
"Yeah," Eddie muttered. "Just.. don't lock the door," he continued with a crease furrowing between his brows. "Don't want you dying in there."
Buck nodded.
Buck showered.
With a great effort, nonetheless, it took toil and endeavor to stay standing under hot water for that long. Some time during his shower, Eddie had flipped the bathroom light switch off and let the bedroom's light seep in instead. Easier on the eyes.
"Did you call Maddie yet?" Buck asked, making his way out of the bathroom. He asked while mindlessly stabilizing himself with the doorframe and rubbing at the back of his neck with a towel. It made Eddie's heart jump for a reason he didn't want to think about or identify, the way Buck's smell filled the air, how all he could smell was Buck's expensive TikTok-influenced curl shampoo and unscented body wash from urgent care that was still so, so scented, in fact, in only emphasized the scent of just Buck.
"I did. She told me to give you her love," Eddie told him. Buck smiled, but it faltered. He was evidently disappointed in himself. "I also called Chimney," he continued.
"Chim?!" Buck panicked, flinching at his own raised voice. "Chim?- Eddie, he's gonna be so-"
"He said he was very proud of you for giving it your all," Eddie reassured him. "And some pretty nasty things about Boston," he continued, chuckling as he said it. Eddie watched as Buck's face tried to settle on an emotion, because Eddie knew exactly what Buck was feeling just by the crease in his eyebrows or the twitch in his lip. Buck was hesitating. "You didn't let anybody down, Buck."
Buck finally settled into a reluctant smile. As much as he could make their loss into a bigger deal—bring up Bobby, how he let him down—he didn't. Instead, they let the room fill into a sort-of awkward, sort-of comfortable silence. Because there was nothing to do; at least for Buck.
A minute passed and Buck stared at Eddie mindlessly scrolling on his phone in the bed next to him, silently huffing a laugh at Instagram reels, funny texts, everything Buck couldn't see. "Oookay, seriously?" Buck let out. He was never good at not speaking up about his jealousy.
"What?" Eddie asked, not looking up from his phone.
"This," Buck gestured to Eddie and his phone with a dramatic hand. "If I can't be on my phone, you can't either."
Eddie clicked his phone off, meeting his eyes, filling the room with a sudden tension that wasn't there before Eddie looked at him. "What do you want to do then, Buckley?"
Buck's heart flickered.
He opened his mouth like he had a dozen answers, then immediately regretted all of them. “Uh,” he started, then gestured vaguely around the room. “We could—watch something?”
Eddie raised an eyebrow. “With your light sensitivity?”
Buck frowned. “Okay, yeah, when you say it like that, it... it sounds worse.”
“It is worse.”
Buck leaned back on his bed with a groan. “So what, I just sit here and stare at you?”
Eddie didn't hate the idea. He picked his phone up again, going back to what he was doing. "You think of something, let me know."
"Eddie! Come on," Buck pleaded out of boredom. He reached over to slap Eddie's phone out of his hands, wincing as his shoulder fully extended the length between their beds. The concussion was everyone's biggest worry, including Buck's, he didn't think to mention the dull pain in his left shoulder. The part of his body that took the second-most amount of weight in the fall, first being his thick skull.
Eddie put his phone down immediately. "Your shoulder hurting you?"
Buck let out a melodramatic groan; "Godddddd, did I summon paramedic Eddie again?"
Eddie frowned. He liked paramedic Eddie.
"It's just a bruise from the fall," Buck reassured him.
Eddie leaned over, trying to bridge the small-ish gap between their beds to pull Buck's t-shirt sleeve up and get a look at this 'bruise.' He knew it wasn't 'just a bruise' in the way Buck leaned back and avoided Eddie's hand.
"Just-" Eddie bickered. "Let me- see it-" he let out with each attempt at reaching Buck shoulder.
"It's a bruise," Buck finally contended, lifting his sleeve up and revealing... technically, a bruise. Not a small one. A deep, spreading discoloration already blooming under the skin, ugly and dark in a way that didn’t match Buck’s casual tone at all. The impact point wasn’t just marked—it looked angry. Swollen slightly beneath the surface, the kind of injury that came from a hard fall. Like Buck's.
"Jee-eessuss.."
"It's no big deal," Buck argued, shoving his sleeve back down. "It's nothing."
"That's kind of a big deal!" Eddie huffed, half-serious.
"It's not. Don't make it one."
"Does it hurt when you move it?" Eddie asked. Yes, paramedic Eddie had been summoned.
"No," Buck grumbled.
Right, Eddie thought. "Any numbness?"
"No."
"Tingling?"
"No."
"Is the pain sharp or dull?"
"Neither," Buck continued to grumble.
"Alright, Buck- come on," Eddie protested. "Your arm is obviously causing you pain. You're trying to convince me—doing a terrible job at it, by the way—that it isn't hurting, but we both know it is. You don't want to seem any more weak or helpless after already getting disqualified from the games because you feel guilty, for some reason. Well- the games weren't that big of a deal, Buck!"
That about summed it up.
"They were to me," Buck insisted.
"Well, we didn't win them this year, Buck. Accept the help that you need."
The awkwardly comfortable silence came back after that. This time, they were both looking at each other.
"Okay," Buck conceded. "It hurts when I move it."
Eddie made his way out of his bed as Buck concurrently pulled the sleeve of his shirt up again, knowing Eddie was going to spend the next half hour inspecting and analyzing the bruise. He kneeled at the side of Buck's bed, pulling Buck's bicep closer to him and squinting his eyes at the bruise.
"Ouch," Eddie commented. Like Buck didn't know. Eddie gently held Buck's upper arm in his hands, softly pressing his thumbs down onto the redder skin. "That hurt?"
"Surprisingly, no," Buck answered, looking over his shoulder to see what Eddie was doing.
"Okay, then it's deeper..." Eddie mumbled, thinking out loud. Eddie focused and hyperfixated on the injury, trying to come at it from every angle and possibility. He would—if he could—take this bruise out of Buck and bear it himself and still drive them the whole way home to LA. If he could. "Lift it up?" Buck lifted his arm up, got about seventy percent of the way to fully up before wincing and letting out a low whine.
"Okay- okay- put it down," Eddie instructed, patting at Buck's arm, conveying a quiet good job. He didn't want Buck to be in any more pain than he needed to be. “If it hurts more when you move it than when I touch it, it’s not just the skin,” Eddie said, frowning slightly. “You probably bruised the muscle.”
Eddie's fingers unconsciously rubbed gentle circles against Buck's skin as he thought to himself. It was late, and though ice would do a lot of good for Buck's shoulder, sleep would do better for Buck himself. Ice should only stay on an injury for no longer than twenty minutes.
Eddie's hands dragged off of Buck.
"I'm going to get ice from the receptionist downstairs," Eddie told him.
"Eddie-" Buck started.
"Let me. It needs it."
Buck reluctantly nodded in response.
"I'll wedge the ice between your shoulder and a pillow so you can fall asleep with it on there."
"You're not supposed to sleep with ice on-" Buck started, the paramedic in him coming out too.
"I'll take it off for you, you need the sleep," Eddie finished, standing up and grabbing the room key on the nightstand. Buck smiled to himself. He was lucky.
Eddie left the room, all the time it took for him to get in the elevator, take it twelve floors down to the lobby, ask the nice lady for ice, bring the ice back up, Eddie never thought once that it was a hassle. He loved doing it. By the time he got back, Buck was already asleep. Eddie knew two things he was sure of: concussions can send anyone into a deep, long, and needed sleep, and Buck was a deep sleeper himself. He wedged the ice in between Buck's shoulder and a pillow, securing it with a towel.
Time, 10:40p.m. Until eleven, Eddie would sit on the bed across from Buck's and watch.