Chapter Text
Something’s different, Buck can tell from the moment he wakes up.
The first thing he notices are the smells, or rather the absence of smell. He can’t really explain it to himself, but the closest thing he remembers feeling is when he’d be congested enough from a cold that his sense of smell and taste would be diminished. But when he sniffs, the air flows freely into his nose. Along with the familiar scent of Eddie’s bed. It smells like … well it smells like Eddie. Like home.
He’s no longer able to perceive the remains of the Tandoori dish from where he knows the container lies in the trash, nor the scent that usually drifts out from Chris’s room when he wakes up and starts to move around (which is not surprising, given that Chris is currently at a cousin sleepover.) He doesn’t smell the soap from the bathroom next door, only the trace of detergent in the sheets he’s laying on.
Sheets that feel … closer than normal, he muses and shifts his body a little back and forth, exploring the feeling. It’s as if he went to sleep in his pajamas and woke up without them, no barrier between his skin and the fabric. No fur, he realizes suddenly and his eyes open wide at the realization.
At first, he has a hard time focusing his vision. Through the blur he still recognizes the shapes of Eddie’s bedroom, the dresser along the wall, the one picture he finally hung on the wall after Buck teased him for the tenth time about how his room felt more like a bachelor pad than an adult person’s bedroom. It doesn’t matter that he can’t make out the motif right now, because he already knows it’s a picture of Eddie and Chris that Buck took of them both in the park at their third picnic together.
When it becomes apparent to him that he is indeed naked and curled up in a fetal position on top of Eddie’s covers, like a dog or something, Buck tries to stretch his limbs out carefully enough to not disturb the peacefulness of the morning. When he stretches his legs, his left one twinges and cramps as though he’s been stuck in an unnatural position for way too long for his nearly thirty-year-old body and he gives up a restrained groan that, while quiet, is succinctly human.
While his breath comes in short spurts as he works though the cramps, Buck blinks rapidly a few times as if he’s trying to blink away the pain. It takes a minute (though it feels like an hour) but when the pain finally recedes, it’s like it takes the blurriness in his vision with it and the room slowly comes into focus.
Buck blinks a few times more, this time mostly to make sure that the room isn’t going anywhere. But it’s still there, he’s still in Eddie’s bedroom.
Which – he realizes and raises himself up on his elbow and tilting his face towards the headboard – Eddie is, too.
Eddie, who is sitting up wide awake and staring at Buck like he’s never seen another person in his bed before. Which, to be fair, probably has some merit, Buck thinks as he’s once again reminded of his state of undress when Eddie’s eyes quickly pass over his body, studiously avoiding the crotch area, before landing on his face again. This is, to Buck’s knowledge, likely the first time Eddie’s waken up to another naked man in his bed.
The blush on Eddie’s cheeks might suggest Buck is right in that assumption. He’s glad he’s unable to see his own face, but he’s pretty sure his cheeks are just as red.
Except for the blush, though, and the wide eyes, Eddie’s face is almost expressionless. Buck’s usually a lot better at reading his friend’s emotions, but they’ve never been in a situation even remotely close to this one before, and it’s clear Eddie has no idea how to handle it.
“Um, hi?” Buck says in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension, and his voice is gravelly with sleep and general disuse.
It’s not the most eloquent thing he could have said in this situation, but no one has ever stuck around Buck because of his eloquence, and further to his defense, he’s trying very hard not to freak out at the blank expression on Eddie’s face and what it might say about what Eddie thinks about finding his unclothed friend in his bed, when he was expecting to still find him in the shape of a Golden Retriever. But it seems to do the job of shaking Eddie out of his trance-like state. The blush on his cheeks deepens and spreads to his forehead and down his neck. He clears his throat.
“Buck, you … er, you’re …” He seems at a loss for words, and after a few seconds, Buck helpfully supplies, “I’m back,” at the same time Eddie seems to find his voice again and says, “… naked.”
Buck laughs a little at his friend’s statement and maneuvers his once again very large form until he’s able to sit up and at least cover his lap with Eddie’s blanket. As he does so, he studies the parts of himself that he can see. His arms look the same as before, with the same tattoos, the same dusting of blond hair, the same markings from both old and more recent injuries as he remembers.
For the moment, he’s relieved that his left leg is hidden under the covers. He’s not ready to face the memory of that particular injury yet.
Now that he’s modest enough, he looks up at Eddie again, and the look on his friend’s face is less stricken now and more … reverent?
“You’re back,” Eddie says, and his soft voice makes Buck want to cry with relief, because Eddie sounds anything but disappointed at the fact. “You’re here. It’s really you. It is really you, right?”
“Yes, Eddie, it’s me,” Buck says and feels a smile spread across his entire face. He’s missed smiling so much.
“But how? How are you back?” It seems it’s not only Buck who’s lost the gift of eloquence this morning. “Last night you were still a freaking Golden Retriever. I didn’t make that up, right? You actually were a dog?”
“Um,” Buck begins, because he doesn’t really have a good answer to any of this. “To the best of my knowledge, that’s pretty much exactly what happened. And I have no idea how or why, or how I’m back.” The gravel in his voice lessens the more he speaks, and the longer he sits up and allows his hands, feet, legs and arms to make tiny movements, he feels more and more like himself. Like he’s actually human. “I mean,” he hurries to add in tone that he tries to keep humorous, but that probably ends up sounding more self-deprecating, “I would not sneak into your bed while you slept otherwise, and while we weren’t on speaking terms, even I’m not that bad a boundaries. Especially not while naked.”
“Right,” Eddie mumbles, looking anywhere but at Buck, “naked. Hang on a minute.”
Without further explanation, he scrambles out of bed and out of his bedroom, leaving Buck confused and wondering why it hurts so much that his best friend doesn’t seem to want to look at him anymore. The fact that Eddie might only be trying to respect his privacy doesn’t even cross Buck’s mind, weirdly enough he’s gotten so used to walking around without clothes it doesn’t really feel all that different without the fur.
It doesn’t take long before Eddie re-enters through the bedroom door carrying a duffel bag Buck recognizes as his own. It’s the one he used to carry to work. That is, when he still had a job to go to.
“Um, Eddie? Are we going to the station or why did you bring my work duffel?”
“What?” Eddie frowns in confusion, then looks down at the bag in his hand, then back up at Buck and suddenly, the blush is back. “Oh, no, this is just normal clothes from your apartment. I got some stuff together, you know, when we were packing up your place. Figured it might be good to have some on hand just in case we figured out how to get you back.”
“Good call,” Buck grins at Eddie’s bashful expression.
“Shut up,” Eddie mutters and throws the bag down in front of him on the bed. “I’ll go put some coffee on while you get dressed.”
“You mind if I shower first?” Buck says and he’s suddenly reminded of all the baths Eddie has given him and can feel his own blush creep back onto his cheeks. He might be imagining it, but he kind of still thinks he smells like dog, and a bit like the dirt in the front yard where he did his business last night. On top of the ordinary sleep sweat that comes with the LA heat, and which he hasn’t missed.
“Sure, go ahead,” Eddie says, already on the way to the kitchen. “Take your time.”
“Don’t you dare touch the waffle maker!” Buck calls after him, and he can swear he hears Eddie chuckle from the kitchen even with his significantly less sensitive human ears. For a minute, it feels like they’re right back to where they used to be. Before a bomb blew up not only a truck, but their lives as they knew them. Before the lawsuit ripped them ever further apart, and before Buck was mysteriously turned into a dog and, equally as mysteriously, turned back. For a minute, they’re just one best friend crashing at the other friend’s place and ribbing him about his non-existent cooking skills.
Duffel bag in hand, Buck walks into the bathroom. He drops the bag on top of the laundry hamper in the corner of the room and steps into the shower without looking at himself in the mirror.
The shower itself is a quick affair, rinse, shampoo, lather, rinse again. He’s done and reaching for a clean towel before the glass walls even start to fog. When he’s dry enough he steps up to his duffel, still toweling his hair. Eddie has packed both sweats and jeans, as well as a few shirts and cardigans. And underwear, Buck notices with a tickling sensation near his pelvis that he decides not to examine more closely as he pulls a pair on. Then he looks between the jeans and the sweats, thinks about Eddie, still dressed in his jammies, and pulls out a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark blue t-shirt.
Before he gets dressed, though, he takes a deep breath and hypes himself up enough to dare look in the mirror.
Before this whole ordeal, Buck was in the best shape of his life. He was breaking records while recertifying at the academy. He was fighting his way through tsunamis. True, he went through a slump for a while there after quitting in Bobby’s face at the hospital when he had his embolisms, but those few weeks hardly made a dent in his physique. Also, he’d more than made up for it afterwards at the nearest commercial gym with a reasonably priced membership. During the entire time of the lawsuit, he’s kept working out daily, almost obsessively. Some days it had felt like it was the only thing in his life he could control.
He’s not nearly at the same fitness level anymore, Buck concludes a bit sadly. However, the daily walks he’s been on as a dog, along with running up and down the stairs at the station and playing catch with Christopher has given him a leaner look. Still athletic, he has to admit, just less bulky than he was.
Nevermind, he’ll work the bulk back, Buck thinks as he pulls on his clothes. He glances at the scars on his lower left leg, both those from the injury and from the surgery. They look the same as before, and he’s not not relieved to see them hidden beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants a second later.
Next would be his hair, but none of his products are in the bag, and it doesn’t really seem right to use any of Eddie’s (even though he just used both his soap and shampoo), so he decides to let the curls live free for now, even though they make him feel a bit juvenile. Like a version of himself he thought he’d left behind long ago.
On the way to the kitchen, Buck’s hand keeps finding its way to his head, ruffling and re-ruffling his curls as though that’s going to fix his nerves that zing and zap with every step he takes. There’s a good chance that a very uncomfortable conversation is waiting for him across the threshold.
Eddie turns around with a cup of coffee in each hand at the sound of Buck’s footsteps. The aroma from his cup (oat milk, two sugars is how he prefers it, and he wonders if Eddie remembered) tickles Buck’s nostrils. It’s been way too long since he last had a cup of coffee.
“Here you go,” Eddie says and his eyes linger appreciatively on Buck’s curls before he reaches one of the cups over to Buck, who graciously accepts the coffee, one more piece of evidence that he’s a normal, adult human being, just enjoying a hot morning beverage.
He takes a sip. Of course Eddie remembered exactly how he likes it, it’s perfect.
“You even put oat milk in there,” Buck says.
“That’s the kind you like, right?” Eddie says, hiding behind his own cup and leaning against the counter behind him.
“Yeah, but you don’t,” Buck says with a smile he hopes isn’t too dopey. Because this means Eddie has either kept a carton of oat milk around since before the lawsuit, for when Buck would finally be around again. Or he went out and bought one recently, maybe after finding out the dog that lived in his house might at some point turn back into his best friend.
Eddie hums but doesn’t answer more than that. Instead, he puts his cup down and clears his throat.
“So, cereal for breakfast okay?”
They eat in silence for a while. Buck isn’t sure what to say, isn’t sure if he wants to open the can of worms that is going to spill out as soon as either of them mention lawsuits, canine transmutations or abandonment issues. It might be cowardly of him, but Buck would rather stay in this vaguely domestic bubble they’re in.
But when their bowls are empty and they are both way into their second cup of coffee, it’s starting to get a bit ridiculous.
“When’s Christopher coming home?” Buck asks, hoping to set the tone with a neutral topic. Then he remembers that the topic of Christopher might provide a highway to at least two of the three topics he was trying to avoid. Maybe all three.
“His cousin has a football game this morning he wanted to watch,” Eddie says and scrapes the bottom of his bowl with his spoon in search of the last pieces of cereal. “His aunt is dropping him off after, probably around lunch time. But I thought maybe we’ll go and pick him up instead a little later.”
“So,” Buck says, deciding to just pull off the band-aid. This conversation is not going to hurt any less just because they have it later, might as well get it over with, “plenty of time for us to have that talk, I guess?”
Eddie pauses with his spoon on the way to his mouth and looks up at Buck. His eyes are so brown, so warm, but there’s also a hint of panic in them that’s been present on and off all morning.
He lowers his spoon again without eating its contents.
“I guess so,” he says and takes a deep breath, as if to steel himself.
Buck, who expects him to go straight into lawsuit and abandonment areas, is already thinking about how best to explain himself and his actions, while acknowledging the hurt he knows they inflicted on the team. Which is why he’s blindsided when Eddie speaks next.
“So, I know I said some things about you … You know, when I thought you were a dog who didn’t actually understand what I was saying.”
And yeah, Buck guesses that might be a good way to bring up the issue. He remembers Eddie’s anger at him on the phone call to Hen that day Buck turned up on his porch in dog form. He remembers Eddie tensing up every time Buck’s name was mentioned in the beginning, the way he avoided talking about him to Christopher. Buck remembers “Sometimes I wish I never met him.”
A lump forms in Buck’s throat and he swallows and swallows, but the lump doesn’t seem to go away. He looks down at the cup clutched in his hands, knuckles slowly turning white with how hard his grip is. It’s not until pain blooms in his lower lip that he realizes that his teeth are sinking into it. He forces himself to relax his jaw, but is having a harder time controlling his rapidly quickening breathing.
“Buck?” Eddie asks and Buck’s gaze snaps up to meet his. It’s only then that he sees that Eddie doesn’t look angry at all, not even regretful. He looks … flustered almost, like a schoolgirl who just found out her crush read her diary.
That’s when a different set of words resurface in Buck’s memory, words that were part of the same one-sided conversation, but that were overshadowed by the hurtful ones, (the ones he now knows came from their own place of hurt inside of Eddie.)
“He probably would have made you fall in love with him.”
Buck blinks. And blinks. And tries to remember how to breathe.
“You, eh, you mean …” Buck tries to make sense of his memories, of every feeling in his body wreaking havoc on his insides.
Eddie stands up abruptly, suddenly very preoccupied with clearing the table of their bowls and cups, which he dumps in the sink, the tips of his ears burning red.
“The rest of the team are on shift today, you want to go and surprise them and then maybe pick up Chris afterwards?”
“Uhm, yeah,” Buck says nervously, but he’s breathing so much more easily than before. They can talk more later. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
Of course Buck wants that, wants to see his friends. But he’s not sure how he’s going to be fitting in there anymore, if he’s still the same piece of the puzzle that made up their little fire family before the truck bombing. He knows they’ve been wanting him to turn back to human, but does that mean they’re still going to want him back at the station? Has Bobby kept his spot open? Is Eddie going to be able to trust him as his partner again if he has? Will Chim and Hen still treat him the same, like a slightly annoying but ultimately loveable little brother, or has the hurt from the lawsuit cut too deep into their bond?
Ten minutes later, they’re in Eddie’s truck and Buck is putting his phone back into his jean pocket after finishing up a call to Maddie, who was overcome with relief at the sound of her brother’s voice but promised to keep his return a secret. They still want to surprise the team after all, but Buck couldn’t hold off on letting his sister know the good news. He’s just glad Athena got his phone back.
“I take it she’s happy?” Eddie says and Buck laughs at the understatement.
“Yeah, she, uh, she made me promise to come by the dispatch center after the station, says she wants to see this with her own eyes.”
For a moment, Buck wonders how he’s going to get there, he has no idea where his jeep has ended up he thinks sadly. Maybe it’s been impounded somewhere from where he parked it outside of the lawyer’s office. He’ll have to ask Athena for another favor.
“Sure, I can take you,” Eddie says, magically providing a solution. “We can go on our way to picking up Chris.”
“Are you sure?” Buck says reluctantly, because he doesn’t really want to be away from Eddie, but he also doesn’t want to become a bother. Or well, more of a bother than already freeloading on the man by having lived in his house for the last few weeks. “I can uber?” he offers weakly.
“No offence, Buck, but I’m not really letting you out of my sight more than necessary for the foreseeable future,” Eddie says firmly, like that’s the end of the discussion. “In case you turn into an alpaca or something next.”
Buck turns his head just enough that he can look at Eddie without being too obvious about it. Not that he has to worry much, because Eddie’s eyes are fixed on the road, way more vigilant than the sparse Sunday morning traffic requires. Well, sparse for LA, but everything’s relative.
For a beat, Buck allows himself to really look at him, and to feel. And comes to the conclusion that he really hopes Eddie meant the words he said to Buck in his dog form, because he’s pretty sure he’s in love with Eddie, too.
He thinks of when he saw the sky as a dog. How it wasn’t really prettier than before, not bluer than any other day. But the blue of the sky was one of the few colors in his life then, and it was the most beautiful thing he had seen.
It’s like that with what he’s feeling for Eddie. The love he feels has probably always been there, it’s not really greater now than it was before. It’s more like this love is something different than anything else, and to Buck it’s the only love like this he’s ever experienced, and he’s pretty sure it’s the only one he will ever feel. And it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt.
Of course, he doesn’t say this to Eddie, not right now at least. Instead, he just says, “Thank you,” and turns on the radio. A commercial for a brand of dog food that will supposedly make your four-legged friend’s coat shine like nothing else streams through the truck’s speakers, and Buck catches Eddie’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They both have to bite back a laugh.
***
“And you still have no idea how it happened?” Hen asks for the third time over a second serving of pancakes.
“None,” Buck replies, digging into his own second pile of syrupy cakes. Who doesn’t love a second breakfast after all? “I was just suddenly a dog, and then I woke up and I wasn’t one anymore.”
“Hey,” Chimney calls out, “help us settle this bet we got going on. When you turned back, were you wearing clothes or not?”
“No comment,” Buck says quickly, at the same time Bobby says, “I’m note sure that’s appropriate for work,” and Eddie chokes on a piece of pancake.
“So, naked then,” Chim concludes and pats Eddie on the back until he stops coughing and waves off his helping hand.
“That I will neither confirm nor deny,” Buck says, then adds, “but I will say I’m glad I turned back in Eddie’s bedroom and not in the station.”
He realizes his mistake a fraction of a second before Eddie throws a dagger sharp look at him, and Hen says, “So, naked in Eddie’s bedroom, gotcha,” with a wink and a smirk at them both.
“Moving on,” Bobby says over the laughter that follows. The laughs are just friendly teasing, but Buck is grateful for Bobby’s attempt at a segue. “We’re really glad to have you back, for real this time.”
“Thanks, Bobby,” Buck says and the lump in his throat is back. Bobby was the first one to hug him when Buck and Eddie surprised the team in the loft, and the sincerity in that hug had almost made Buck tear up.
“We’ll have a lot to discuss going forward,” Bobby continues, “first of all your position here, if you’re still interested in coming back?”
“Yes,” Buck blurts out, “yes, of course I am. That’s all I ever wanted, to be back here. If you’ll still have me.”
A warm hand lands on his shoulder and he looks up to see Hen’s misty eyes as she wraps her arm tighter around him.
“We’re not letting you go, Buckaroo,” she says. “Not again.”
“You made a pretty good mascot as a dog,” Chimney agrees from the other side of the table, “but we prefer you like this. Welcome back, Buck!”
Their words settle most of the unease that snuck up on him in Eddie’s kitchen earlier. He feels a little bit stupid for worrying so much. Of course they were always going to welcome him back. He doesn’t smile so much as grin at them all. Then another thought hits him.
“I haven’t thanked you guys for helping me move out of my apartment yet.”
“Still haven’t,” Eddie says, a bit shortly. Probably still a little pissed at the way Buck announced to the entire station that he was naked in Eddie’s bedroom this morning, though he does his best to hide it, Buck can tell. He rolls his eyes.
“Thank you,” he says, making sure to enunciate the two words as clearly as possible. Hen and Chimney exchange an amused glance, and Bobby looks down at his plate, clearly biting his cheek in an attempt to not laugh.
Eddie just nods once and presses his lips together, but his mouth is twitching upwards at the corners.
“No but seriously, guys, thank you,” Buck says, more sincerely this time. “I’m really grateful to you all, and also really sorry about the lawsuit and everything. Again.”
This final part he directs at the entire table, but mostly at Bobby, who waves him off with one hand. Buck’s already apologized several times at this point.
“Don’t worry about that now,” Bobby says in a way that means they’ll work through that later, when Buck is back at work. Buck’s expecting a few days of scrubbing the crapper before he’s completely back in his Captain’s good graces, but he’ll take it, gladly. “But it is a shame that you lost your place, it was a good apartment.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Buck agrees. “Or I mean, it was cool and all, but never really got to feel much like home, what with me sleeping on the couch with my leg in a cast most of the time.”
“Understandable,” Bobby says, nodding. “Do you know where you’re going to go now? We can’t have you sleeping in the streets if you’re going to go back to fighting fires with us.”
Buck glances at Eddie, whose eyebrows are knitted very tightly together as he looks down at his half-empty plate and not at Buck.
“You could come live with Karen and me for a while?” Hen offers. “It’s small, but we have a guest room.”
“So do Athena and I,” Bobby says quickly. “And you’re welcome at our place as well, of course.”
“You’re probably going to have to fight Maddie off first,” Chimney says.
“That’s really nice of you,” Buck says. “Thank you.” He notices Chimney didn’t offer up his own place, but that’s pretty much expected given how it went the last time the two of them tried the roommate thing so he doesn’t take it to heart.
He also notices that Eddie hasn’t said anything and shoots a glance in his direction. This time, Eddie is studying him closely with tense shoulders, which relax visibly when Buck looks at him with a question in his eyes.
“I guess you could keep living with Chris and me until you find somewhere new.”
Relief courses through Buck. For a second there, he was sure he’d misread the signals between himself and Eddie all day, but there’s no mistaking the hope in Eddie’s eyes, a stark contrast to the nonchalant way he just offered him to move in for real.
But Buck still has to make sure.
“Are you sure about this?”
No one else around the table seems surprised that he’d turn down their offers in favor of Eddie’s.
Eddie, who suddenly smiles sweetly.
“Yeah, I mean you already have a bed there.”
“Wait really?” Buck says, surprised. For a second, his cheeks redden as he thinks about the bed he’s been sharing with Eddie, the one he woke up naked in this morning. Then, as Eddie’s smile turns wicked, his meaning lands and Buck sighs and shakes his head.
“You’re talking about the dog bed in the living room, aren’t you?”
Eddie’s smile widens and he claps him on the shoulder.
“Better than the streets though, right?”