Work Text:
The ringing in Eddie’s ears is a well-known hint as to what has just happened. He’s lying on the ground int the middle of the front yard of the house. His helmet has protected his head from knocking the hard concrete floor that sets the path to the front door. Eddie tries to find his bearings, there’s dust all around him and a few fires burning through what’s left of the house. There had been an explosion right before they went in. They were lucky to still be a few steps away from the entrance.
Eddie sits up and a hand grabs him by the shoulder. He turns his head and finds two big blue eyes behind a dusty visor. Buck’s lying on the grass with an exasperated look on his face. He throws away his helmet and starts mouthing something at Eddie, but he can’t hear anything. Eddie squints at Buck who he now notices is simply cursing to the wind.
Once he understands Buck is okay, Eddie lets out a breath that’s been caught in his lungs since right before the explosion.
Buck looks at him and talks. Eddie sees Buck moving his lips at him, but he can’t hear a word he says. He tries to concentrate and figure out what Buck’s trying to tell him.
“I can’t hear you, Buck,” he explains, leaning over Buck’s body and bringing their faces closer together. He might be yelling. Who knows, acoustic trauma is a pain in the ass. He points to his ear and shakes his head.
Buck flinches in response and Eddie understands. Buck can’t hear him either.
“You can’t hear anything either?” he articulates as best he can.
“No,” Buck mouths back.
Eddie wants to stand up, but he’s too dizzy and a wave of nausea hits him at the movement. “Fuck.” He closes his eyes and lets his body collapse back to the floor, this time nearer Buck, who’s lying still, legs and arms sprawled on the grass. It looks like Buck decided to give up altogether.
When Eddie opens his eyes, Chim and Hen are hovering over them. He knows there are still people inside the building in need of help. Buck is not a priority for them right now, and neither is Eddie. He extends his arm up, and he signals for them to go, trying to convey they are both okay.
His gloved hand touches the grass and bumps against Buck’s arm. Eddie turns his head to look at Buck and takes his helmet off. There’s something soothing about this temporary and artificial silence they’re submerged in. Around them, everything must be sheer chaos and outcries, sirens, and fire, but the moment Buck takes off his gloves and reaches out to Eddie, everything stops.
Buck slots his left hand on Eddie’s. I’m okay.
Eddie squeezes back. I’m okay.
The buzzing in their ears will pass. We’re okay.