Chapter Text
Buck is getting takeout from the Mexican restaurant around the corner from his apartment when he hears the news.
The place is essentially one step away from being a hole in the wall. A narrow room with seating in the back for maybe eight, ten if you’re desperate. The counter doesn’t even take up much space, squeezed between the front door and the long kitchen. Buck isn’t the only one waiting inside, a younger couple stand several feet away, huddled together to keep the distance between them and Buck as small as possible. The seating area is closed of course, impossible for the social distancing rules still in place. Buck folds his receipt into impossibly small pieces as waits. Unfolds, then redoes it, creating different shapes than the first time. Something to do with his hands. He’s working on doom scrolling less through social media and so far, it’s working. Except for the jittery feeling he gets being in close proximity to the couple. The pair doesn’t hide the fact that they’re romantically together. The girl fits snugly against her boyfriend’s side, and Buck can remember how that feels, to have a warm, smaller body held against his own. Back when someone actually wanted to fit there, leaned willingly against his weight.
That had seemed like so long ago.
Buck fidgets. The ink smudges, greasy stains on his fingers, thin like blood. He doesn’t feel so hungry anymore.
A television sits over his head, a cheap flat screen set to a local station. There’s a Dodgers game tonight but Buck had long since lost interest. It’s been increasingly hard to focus on anything these days. Baseball seems like the least important thing in the world. A voice is speaking now, a woman, and that in itself piques his interest because you hardly ever hear women announcing baseball games, much less prime time ones.
Bonus, it’s something to focus his attention on instead of the giggling couple to his right. Turns out, it’s not a game announcer he hears, but a reporter.
“We interrupt the game for a brief traffic and news update. Phil, how’s it looking out there tonight?”
“Well, Shayla, let me start off by saying that if you’re planning on taking Sunset home after the game, I would check Channel 3’s Twitter before you start your car, folks. Main roads just west of the stadium are going to be busy tonight. We have a developing story coming to you out of the Mariposa Pines neighborhood –”
That makes Buck’s head snap up, heart rising to his throat.
“– where a gas main explosion has become a waking nightmare for many residents of the area. We are still learning the details, but emergency crews and Pacific Gas and Electric workers are arriving on the scene, hoping to get the blaze under control. Steer clear of the neighborhood roads north of Sunset, west of Echo Park. Here for your information is a detailed map of the affected area.”
A map replaces the reporter on the screen, just as Buck’s fingers are itching toward the phone in his jacket pocket. It takes a moment to read the hastily put together image, a giant red box highlighting multiple blocks of homes, making the names blurry and hard to read. He recognizes the name of one street, eyes moving from there in a familiar route until he finds what he’s looking for and – oh shit.
“Steak flautas!” A woman yells, mere feet from his ear.
Buck has already paid for the food, so he grabs the takeout bag and almost runs into the glass door in his haste to leave, while the reporter's voice confirms the worst possible news over the tinny speakers.
“– the evacuation zone continues over the 900 block of Las Brisas Avenue –”
Outside, his phone is at his ear before he leaves, fingers finding the recent call button on blind memory.
It’s no surprise that he doesn’t get an answer.
“This is Eddie – you know what to do.”
Buck’s walking at a brisk pace, trying not to panic. He doesn’t know anything, there’s no confirmation, nothing that should make him worry this hard, not yet. Of course his voice doesn’t come out as evenly as he would’ve hoped.
“Hey, it’s me. Just saw on the news, something about a gas explosion? It was in your area, so I just wanted to make sure you and Chris were alright. Call me back, okay?” Shaking fingers have to hit the end call button twice before it works.
Immediately tries the next number. It’s a shock to hear Christopher’s voice first. “Diaz household!” he cheers, smile loud in his voice. Buck’s mouth is opening to speak, but he’s cut off. He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten the landline voice message before now. Eddie’s voice chimes in as he joins his son. “Please leave a message! ”
Buck hangs up. Gives himself five long seconds, then starts sprinting back to his apartment building to get his car.
He knows he shouldn’t be using his phone while driving but Eddie’s house is still over fifteen minutes away without the traffic and his phone has been dark since he called the landline. He negotiates with himself and whatever higher power might be watching over him and puts the next call on speaker, balancing his phone on the space between his steering wheel and dashboard.
Again, it goes to Eddie’s voicemail. Buck tries to tell himself it’s a good thing that it’s even ringing. But deep down he knows that could mean so many things, with the way iPhones are built these days.
“Fuck, Eddie, c’mon,” he says, fumbling to end the call blindly. Tries again. And again. The fourth time he loses it.
“Answer your goddamn phone Eddie Diaz, or I’ll beat your sorry ass seven ways to Sunday - dammit what the hell –”
His yell breaks on a high note as some asshole in a Tesla cuts him off as he tries to merge onto Sunset. “Learn to drive you piece of shit! Go suck Elon’s dick, maybe you’ll swallow some new brain cells. Fuck!”
He forgot to end the call, but can’t spare a thought to feel embarrassed about it. “Eddie, I’m on my way over. Call me if you get this, please, man, I’m freaking out.” Buck hits the red button on the screen before his rambling falls into dangerous territory, not trusting his mouth for another second. Considers calling Maddie for a serious second, but he knows she won’t be able to help him learn anything. She doesn’t need to carry his stress. Bobby doesn’t either.
He’s desperate for something to distract his thoughts but for some reason too scared to put on the radio. It’s ridiculous, but if he drives up Las Brisas and finds something horrific, he doesn’t want pop music to be the last sound in his ears when he sees the charred husk of Eddie’s house.
What the fuck is wrong with you? he admonishes. “Everything is fine, probably.” Out loud, words bouncing around the empty cab for no one else to hear.
Phil Whats-His-Name was right, Sunset is a nightmare. Buck loses patience and takes a sharp left a couple of miles too early. He’s been through here enough that he can figure out how the neighborhood is laid out in the dark.
Buck knows the code, knows how far back the streets are going to be blocked and which ones he can still access. He turns onto Las Brisas and parks along the curb where the first road is closed, several blocks out. It’s as close as he can hope to get. Emergency lights illuminate the neighborhood far ahead and smoke hangs in the air like a thin cloud. He passes houses he recognizes as he moves, trying to discern the numbers in the dark. Everything here is untouched, but the way Buck can’t exactly tell where the smoke is coming from sends him a little deeper into his panicked spiral.
Hell is the five or so minutes it takes for him to run from his parked car to the beginning of Eddie’s block. Crowds of people block his view, two or three rows thick, and he wants to scream at the way no one bats him an eye when he tries to push through. Finally, finally, he finds an opening, enough to get him up to a temporary barricade. An officer is already moving to stop him, possibly reading the panic in his eyes.
“Sir, please step back –”
“I’m looking for my friend, he lives here and he’s not answering his phone.”
She’s trying to talk over him, asking questions that are probably worth answering, and Buck gets it together enough to stop babbling and fumbles out Eddie’s address. The street is heavily clouded, he can’t see farther than twenty feet ahead, give or take, and the emergency lights bouncing off the heavy particles in the air creates a disorienting effect.
Then, there , safely outside of the haze and spectacle. He’d know those shoulders, that taught posture anywhere. Could trace the solid line of Eddie in his sleep.
Buck yells his name. The sound gets lost in the confusion.
The officer in front of him is busy talking into her radio, trying to get a clear answer on the address Buck gave her. He feels a detached gratitude towards her, knows she isn’t required to do that. Right now, though, it no longer matters.
“– no one behind the barricade, sir –”
“I’m a firefighter, house one-eighteen,” he says, distracted, like that means something right now. Maybe it does, for she gives up on trying to stop him and he’s launching himself over the tape.
“Eddie!? Eddie! ”
Finally hears him, and Buck was right. The face that turns toward him is a mask of stunned confusion, but it’s Eddie, it’s all Eddie.
“Buck?”
He runs up, takes a second to make sure Eddie is undamaged and whole before he collides with him. Strong arms come up to catch him.
“What – how did you know to come here?”
Buck steps back, pulling away to land a solid punch on his shoulder, making the other man wince. “You didn’t answer your phone, jackass. I was out getting food, it’s all on the news. Was your house -?”
“The house is fine. A little scorched on the outside, maybe. House next door was smoking when they evacuated us.”
Buck runs a hand through his hair. “Shit.”
Eddie is looking at him, astounded, still. Mouth cut open in a dark line on his illuminated face and eyes wide. They flatten suddenly, a realization.
“My phone…” Eddie has his hands running over his pockets, feeling. “I think I must’ve left it at home, damn.”
While he’s talking, Buck’s eyes are drawn down to another figure on the curb.
Christopher, with a patient smile shifting to a full-blown grin when Buck kneels down.
“Hey, oh thank god.” He envelops the child too, carefully. Chris has got a blanket wrapped around him. Buck does not recognize it.
“Hi, Buck,” Chris says tiredly in his ear, and it damn near breaks his heart because it’s so far from the kid’s bright demeanor.
“You okay?”
Unruly curls bob up and down in a nod, but Eddie answers for him as Buck stands. “He’s a little shaken up, but I think we’ll be okay.”
And that’s when Buck finally breathes. Chris and Eddie are alive, unharmed.
Also, not alone.
Eddie looks over Buck’s shoulder, and Buck had all but forgotten about the woman he saw standing there, hovering behind Christopher. Far enough away for Buck to mistake her as another neighbor, a stranger. But judging by the way Eddie is looking at her, she is far from that. He’s seen photos of Ana. Eddie showed him one on his phone a few weeks ago, and he’s kind enough to say that pictures don’t do Ana Flores justice. She’s gorgeous, like a movie star. All perfectly curled hair and almond shaped eyes. Her clothes are tastefully chosen, unwrinkled, and she looks woefully out of place on the soot covered sidewalk surrounded by all this chaos.
Buck hates himself for the sharp knife of bitterness that cuts through his heart when he sees the glowing look she gives Eddie.
“Hello,” she says now to Buck, extending a petite hand. “You must be Buck. I’m Ana.”
He nods, taking the hand slowly and squeezing. “I know.” The rest gets stuck, and he dislodges his throat, loudly. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise.” Her voice is stiff, but Buck doesn’t know her well enough to compare it normally.
For the lack of anywhere safe to put his eyes, Buck looks down at Christopher again, stooping again to his level.
“You know, I was so worried about you,” he begins, hand going to cup the boy’s head, briefly stroking his hair. The gesture is a knee jerk reaction to the panic slowly bleeding out of him. “This is why you’re in charge. You gotta make sure your goofball of a dad doesn’t forget his phone when he leaves the house.”
He gets an honest grin this time, cheek filling his palm, followed by giggling. “Okay, I will.”
“That’s right, put more ideas into his head,” Eddie scolds behind him, though his voice lacks infliction. Chris smiles again, sharing a secret, mischievous grin with Buck and that gets everyone laughing. The air feels less awkward now, but Buck stays down where he is.
“If this is all over the news, then my abuela is probably having a conniption right now. She’s always watching the local channels. I need to call her.” Eddie says shortly after. He double checks himself for his phone, but Buck pulls his own out and holds it up for Eddie to take.
“Here, she’s already in my contacts.”
Eddie relaxes, can’t help the relieved smile. “Thank you.”
Buck doesn’t miss how Eddie goes through his passcode on the first try, and by the way Ana is watching all of this from the sideline, she doesn’t miss it either. It’s a normal thing for them, though only them. To know how to access each other’s phones in case one of them ends up in the hospital, or worse. Thinking about it, he doesn’t know Hen’s passcode, or Bobby’s. Could probably guess Chimney’s.
Eddie is one of his emergency contacts, after Maddie. Buck is near the top of Eddie’s list, too, and Christopher’s. He’s seen it. He wonders if Ana knows that.
Once the call goes through, Eddie turns away and begins speaking in a mix of rapid fire Spanish and English. Buck doesn’t mean to let it get to him, the smugness, but it does. It feels a little disconcerting, he is not usually this person. The type who wants to get between two people who undoubtedly deserve each other, one of them being his best friend who Buck has unfortunately had an embarrassing crush on for over a year.
It sucks. The way Ana hovers over them on the sidewalk makes it worse. “Christopher, honey, do you want some water?”
Buck feels himself going stiff. Honey? He knows she’s just being nice. Ana was his teacher, she might actually know Chris as well as Buck does, but that doesn’t stop him from looking up at her with hard eyes. Nods to the bottle, knowing that she probably won’t even think to break the sealed cap for him. “Here, I got it.”
Her eyes flash briefly with something like surprise. Buck feels the glare on his face, hears the tightness in his own voice as he holds out a stiff hand. They’re suspended in the moment, Buck’s heart thudding clumsily in his chest and feeling hot all over. It feels like a mistake, but he doesn’t get the chance to fix it.
Pressure in the air and a hair of a second later, the world is ablaze. It’s blocks away, but he feels the explosion with his feet, vibrating through the ground, and Buck has just enough sense to bring his hands from Christopher’s shoulders to his ears to shield the noise and the child with his broad shouldered body.
Eyes up after the sudden sun dims enough to see Eddie’s frantic face, half a block away where he had wandered to get out of earshot. One hand still holding the phone to his ear, the other waving for them to move. Buck doesn’t wait, just scoops Christopher up and bolts.
He’s grown since the last time Buck had to do this, but he doesn’t stumble under the weight. Keeps them moving, terrified breath chiming in his lungs.
People are scrambling in every other direction to get away from the barricade, police yelling to get clear. Another explosion sounds as Buck darts under the tape, this one closer. There’s a high-pitched yell behind him, Ana, but Buck can’t look, he’s too focused on making it across the next street. She’s close behind, though, he knows that much.
When he finally stops and turns around, a tree is ablaze, less than a hundred feet or so from where they had been sitting.
Buck curses under his breath, shaken. Ana arrives seconds later, bare feet slapping painfully against the pavement. It’s safe to guess that there’s a pair of discarded heels sitting in Eddie’s foyer, and Buck’s heart goes out to the poor woman then, it really does. She had no idea what sort of hell getting involved with Eddie Diaz was going to bring her.
Breath coming out in rough slabs, they stand and stare. Eddie is a silhouette against the fire, having stopped at the barricade to watch, phone still to his ear. Buck’s mind narrows in on the double death grip Christopher has in his shirt.
“Hey, hey hey hey, shhh,” he murmurs, pressing their heads close.
There’s another curb nearby, and he squats down so Chris’s feet have something solid underneath them. But the kid clings to Buck even as his own ass hits the pavement hard. Trembling, and those fists, squeezing so hard it’s gotta hurt.
With some kind of awful déjà vu, Buck cradles the back of his head, whispering assurances into his hair. A weightless feeling overtakes him, lifts and carries him like water, bringing back images from that infinite afternoon on top of a firetruck. He shuts his eyes against it, shuts Ana out and the concerned looks she’s darting between Buck and Eddie, who is still so far away and lost in the crowd. Buck suddenly needs him close, needs him now.
“I got you, I got you. You’re alright.” He whispers and repeats. Christopher won’t stop trembling. It’s a struggle not to think about how close he came to losing him, the both of them. Again.
I can’t keep going through this. Can’t. Won’t.
Eddie, god dammit, where are you?
He’s still rocking Chris back and forth on the ground, legs crossed over his own now, when Eddie finally finds his way back to them. Buck’s eyes are partially open as he breathes in the scent of Chris’s hair, the only thing that doesn’t smell like smoke. He doesn’t want to let go, and fortunately, Eddie doesn’t make him.
“Christopher,” Eddie says, wondrously gentle with his voice and his hands. One falls on Buck’s shoulder, rubs down the length of his spine like balm. The other matches to rub soothing circles into his son’s back. Buck feels telltale warm dampness on his shoulder.
“You’re okay, Chris, everything is okay.”
Buck feels a tiny nod move against his neck but Christopher doesn’t pull away.
His voice gets closer. “I’m going to go talk to the police officer and see what’s going on. Is that alright? Buck will stay right here with you.”
Another nod, and then Eddie is gone without another word. The hand on Buck squeezes his shoulder once before letting go.
He doesn’t speak to Ana once. Again, Buck feels sorry for her.
The silence comes crashing down, squeezing them together with force. Buck comes back enough to glance over Christopher’s head at the stranger on the curb. Thin arms are folded over her blouse, vice like grip on both elbows.
“I’m sorry if I came off as rude, before,” Buck says, unsure. He feels a divide between them, full of broken glass and Buck doesn’t know where to step.
She doesn’t make him work too hard for it. Her heart shaped face startles from where she had been watching Eddie walk away, but settles into a polite smile.
“Don’t be sorry.” Ana steps closer, pulling her shoulder bag tighter by the straps. Buck admires the way that she doesn’t hesitate before sitting her pressed skirt down on the dusty curb next to him. “You’re very good with him.”
She’s talking about Christopher, of course, eyes warm as she watches the boy. But she doesn’t move to help comfort him. She’s smart enough to know better. Not that Buck would do anything about it, but he knows what he looks like, holding Christopher to him, fiercely protective.
He mutters a quiet, ‘thanks,’ feeling distinctly self-conscious. There’s a flash of anger towards Eddie for leaving her here with him. And that gets him curious. Why is she here with him anyway, and not with her date?
“Do you have kids?”
The question creates a sour taste in his mouth, though he didn’t ask it. He feels that if Eddie talks about him enough for Ana to know who he is, she has to know that he doesn’t. That he’s painfully single and the farthest he’s ever been from being someone’s actual father. She has to know, or maybe she’s just making conversation.
“No, no kids,” he says.
“Younger siblings?”
“Older sister.”
She nods, doesn’t seem deterred by his brisk answers. “Well, some people just have a knack for it, I suppose. You’re lucky that way.” Her head inclines towards Chris and when Buck looks at her, he sees that a part of her is shut off, carefully protecting herself.
Christopher shifts, gives a weak cough. Ana is already reaching for her purse when Buck asks, “You said you had water?”
They sit on the curb for a while longer, Christopher now balanced on Buck’s thighs, thin back to his chest. Buck’s own back is stiff, muscles painfully taught, but he wouldn’t move for the world. Christopher finally seems content like this, sipping his water and head lolling occasionally back on Buck’s shoulder. A firetruck has arrived, crawling down Eddie’s street, quick to extinguish the tree and douse the surrounding structures. The shroud of smoke has let up some, and everything glistens from the water used to create a barrier from the fire. First responders mill about and even the number of onlookers on the street has lessened somewhat. Someone’s stomach growls. Ana’s, judging by the sheepish smile she tries to hide behind her hair.
“I take it you guys didn’t yet get through dinner when this started?” Buck asks, shooting for casualty.
Ana throws her head back, curls shaking loose and away from her face. “No. We were waiting on takeout. I hope they don’t charge Edmundo for it.” She bites her lip and looks out again, trying to find him.
It’s quite an effort, controlling his face to remain blank. The use of Eddie’s full name bounces around in his head, unfamiliar, making it difficult to come up with a non-emotional response.
He doesn’t like being called that. Buck is pretty sure. At least that’s the impression Buck always got. Maybe it’s not his business. Or maybe Eddie just preferred it when pretty women with piercing dark eyes and petite figures called him by his given name and no one else.
At his silence, Ana fidgets uneasily beside him, fingers twisting the leather strap of her purse into a simple knot. Buck watches her untie and retie it, staring off into the kaleidoscope of colors down the street.
He almost leaves it at that, not trusting his mouth not to betray him again. Nothing helpful comes to mind for a moment, except to stay on the subject of food.
“If it’s that good Thai place off Franklin, they’ll probably give you credit for the next time,” Buck says casually. His brain momentarily forgets the name of the restaurant. Suphan something. “They know Eddie. We order from there all the time.”
He says it with the only hope to relieve her worry somewhat. But as with most things he does out of the genuine goodness of his heart, it lands short. Even from the side, Buck can see her eyes harden.
Her mouth opens then closes again until she finally breathes a curt sigh. “I don’t know about a next time.”
Buck misinterprets the meaning of her words, though he won’t realize it for hours. “Eddie really likes you.”
Ana turns her head to eye him briefly, a single up and down look, making him feel distinctly small. He barely recognizes her now for the way her mouth has tightened, dark eyes glaring. “Does he? Lately I’ve been really questioning what his motives are.”
Motives? Buck tries to understand. He opens his mouth to speak, momentarily confused by her sudden coldness.
“It looks like they’re clearing the street,” she says before he can, eyes off in the distance again. “I think it’s time for me to head home.”
“You don’t -“
“It was nice to finally meet you.” Her voice is clipped, edges razor sharp. She stands, brushing her skirt once. “Christopher, it was a joy to see you again, and I really mean that.”
Something about that sounds so final. Chris moves his face from Buck’s shoulder so that he can peek at her and give a tiny wave. Ana gives the first genuine smile Buck has seen all night, then she’s walking away without another word, slim figure quickly blending in with the shadows.
Eddie doesn’t see her go.
———
Though mildly shaken by Ana’s abrupt departure, Buck can feel himself finally relax as he’s finally left with Christopher. The kid’s head feels heavier on his shoulder, arms falling to his sides. Buck takes the water bottle and sets it on the street beside them, and waits.
Like floating on a life raft in the dark ocean of the abandoned street. The world had left them alone, at long last.
The lull in the excitement seems to have drained them both. Christopher sighs, full body lifting and falling against Buck’s chest. He has an idea to go and find Eddie but staying where it’s quiet seems like the better idea. Christopher doesn’t need to be in the middle of all that again.
“How are we doing, kid?” Buck asks, a hand going to brush back the soft curls.
“Okay,” he says quietly. Then, pushing off Buck, perhaps feeling braver, “Did our house blow up?”
Buck looks down the block and takes stock of the lack of visible flames and black smoke. “No, I think the house is okay. But I don’t think you can go back just yet.” He takes to rubbing Christopher’s back again, and the effect is immediate. He falls back, exhausted, and thankfully without protest. Buck’s not sure he would let either him or Eddie go back towards the sounds of the previous explosions even if it was cleared. At least not tonight.
“Hey, Chris? How does a sleepover at my place sound?”
His head jerks on Buck’s shoulder. “A sleepover?”
“Yeah, both you and your dad. Get you guys away from all this scary noise”
The child ponders this, weighs the benefits. “But it’s a school night.”
He chuckles quietly. “I think we can convince your dad, don’t worry.”
Eddie rejoins them not too long after, looking harried. Buck gets a chance to take his first good view of his friend. His hair is softer looking, probably from having run his fingers through it constantly, something Eddie had a habit of doing when he’s stressed. His face is pinched, though that decreases somewhat when he lays eyes on them sitting peacefully on the sidewalk. He speaks before Buck can even ask.
“I think most of the block escaped the worst of it. Wayne and Marietta’s across the street suffered from a scorched roof but otherwise everyone is okay.”
It takes him a minute to notice, his eyes never leaving the forms of Buck and Christopher huddled on the curb. Eddie swivels suddenly, befuddled. “Wait, where is Ana?”
There’s really no easy way to say it, so Buck keeps it blunt. “She left.”
“Is everything okay?”
Buck is slightly thrown by the question. You tell me.
“I think so, she was just hungry.” It will occur to him later that an elaboration of some kind should’ve been said to cushion the news for Eddie, something like, She said to tell you goodbye, or She’ll call you later. But his first instinct has never been to lie. At least not to Eddie.
Eddie gives a distracted nod, then sits down hard next to Buck, like someone has knocked out his knees. Shoulders bumping together, they lean into the silence. After a long few minutes, Eddie reaches for his son and Buck hands him over willingly, thighs starting to feel bruised. One large hand lingers on the child’s back even after the transfer, because for some earth shattering moment, Buck can’t find it in himself to fully let go.
Eddie doesn’t care, just hugs Christopher tight. Skinny arms reach up and encircle his neck. Buck’s hand is misplaced, only to land on Eddie’s forearm, fingers curling around warm skin.
Again, the other man doesn’t seem to mind.
A soft curse breaks the silence. “We never ate dinner. Christopher, you must be so hungry,” Eddie says, pained.
It’s then that Buck remembers the stuffed bag of takeout in his car, stewing in grease. His own stomach rolls uncomfortably, but it’s not himself he’s thinking of.
“I had just picked up some food before I came here. It's in my car,” he suggests helpfully.
Either Eddie is slipping into shock or simply dumbfounded, he doesn’t speak. So Buck just motions for him to follow. Eddie hefts Christopher up in his arms as he stands like it’s hardly any effort. It’s when they finally get to the jeep after a long walk in the dark and Buck starts pulling out containers that Eddie finally finds his voice.
“I’m not - Buck, that’s your food, we can’t -”
He pushes a box of fried tortillas towards Eddie to shut him up. It works. “Please, I’m not remotely hungry anymore. It’s just going to go to waste.” It’s true. Lately, unless he’s worked up an appetite on the job, eating has been more of a chore than usual. So far he’s gone almost a full day off without more than a protein shake. With all the new stress - his parents, Maddie and her baby, Albert, Daniel, Ana, Christopher’s emotional wellbeing - it was increasingly difficult to find anything that sounded faintly appetizing.
Eddie sighs and gives him an exasperated look, and at least that’s familiar and normal, something Buck can toss an anchor to to weigh himself down.
There’s a bag of chips with salsa and guacamole, as well as a foil dish of refried beans with the four flautas he ordered. Buck gets the trunk opened and they spread the meal out on the tailgate, Christopher propped against the frame of the car, legs swinging over edge. Eddie wordlessly hands Buck one of the flautas and he munches on it slowly, stomach settling just a bit. A small victory, judging by the slight tilt of Eddie’s mouth as he eats without complaint.
It rolls again at the smell of refried beans. There’s no way he’s eating those, but Chris is perfectly happy to have the plate to himself.
Eddie runs a hand down his face after, looking exhausted. The excitement of the evening seems to have run its course, leaving their little party displaced.
“Looks like it’s gonna be a while yet before we can get back to the house…” Eddie trails off, lost.
Buck pauses before popping a plain chip into his mouth. “What, you think I’m going to leave you sitting out here to wait? Absolutely not. You two are coming back home with me.”
“Buck…” Eddie begins to protest.
“I won’t hear anything otherwise. Both of you are exhausted, it’s late, you’ve already eaten… you’re staying at my place.”
The argument dies there. Eddie’s head hangs off his neck, eyes cast down as he struggles to accept Buck’s terms.
“Go and see if you’re allowed to collect whatever you need from home. I’ll clean this up and then Christopher and I will meet you at the corner.”
“Alright,” Eddie says at last, meeting Buck’s steady gaze. “Thanks.” He sets off toward the police line once again, neck slightly flushed. Buck pushes that newly collected information to the back of his mind for later.
He paces himself in getting Christopher settled into the backseat and clearing away the remnants of their dinner. When he pulls the car around as close as he can get to the barricade, Eddie is a walking shadow moving quickly under darkened street lamps. His face is mostly hidden when he slides into the front seat, stuffing a bag under his feet.
“Power is still out so I just grabbed what I could see. Here, mijo,” Eddie says, voice going soft as he hands Christopher a juice box, who accepts it silently. There’s a long pause as Eddie gets settled, but before he reaches for his seatbelt, Chris whispers a single, sullen plea.
“Daddy?”
“Hm?”
“I wanna go home.”
“I know, Christopher, but we -” Eddie cuts off abruptly, turning to face the back again. “Hey. Hey, you’re alright. Everything is going to be okay.”
Buck glances up, eyes seeing through the rear view mirror a very tired boy pouting at his father, eyes large and tears threatening to spill over. Before he knows it, Eddie is clambering over the center console to get in the backseat and curl up around his son.
Putting the car in drive, slowly, Buck detects an odd mixture of emotions churning in his stomach. Inadequacy. Guilt.
Something else, akin to gratitude, or fondness. He eyes both Diazes in the mirror again and aches.
His foot releases the break in surprise. The car crawls a few feet before Buck remembers himself.
Everything is silent on the ride back except for the gentle sounds of Eddie murmuring comforting words to Christopher. The familiar setting of his car helps the adrenaline finally bleed out of him, and it feels like hours until they’re back in front of his apartment complex.
The apartment is just how he left it, lights still on from when he walked out thinking he was only going up the block for dinner. Ever since Albert moved out the air has always felt like that. Too big, too still, like waiting for someone else to return.
Eddie drops his things and Christopher’s crutches by the dining table, still holding up his son with one arm. He glances at Buck expectantly, if not a little lost.
“You and Christopher can sleep in my bed, I’ll take the couch,” Buck says before the question even comes out. “I've got a set of clean sheets that I can change out real quick if you give me a minute.”
Eddie looks like one of those faulty animatronics from Disneyland, jaw unhinged and moving uselessly. Buck doesn’t know how to translate the expression, reads it as a dismissal.
“Or if you’d rather stay down here, that can work. I’ve slept on worse floors.”
Still, nothing. Eddie blinks a few times.
“Or, you know, if I’m being too much, just tell me to shut up and I will.”
He does, coming to life and blurting out, “Buck, stop.”
His mouth snaps shut on command.
“It’s okay, we’ll take the bed,” Eddie starts for the stairs and Buck waits a few seconds to follow, feeling skittish. “I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor of your own apartment.”
“It’s fine, I swear -”
“No, it’s not.”
They’ve reached the top now, and Buck pauses before he goes to strip the sheets to glance at his friend, waiting. Feels distinctly like he’s done something wrong, but he’s not quite sure what that is.
“You’re already done more than enough.”
And that - oh. Buck feels his face warming up, unsure of how to react so he tries to give Eddie a smile and hopes he doesn’t look too crazed. In record time he’s able to get the old sheets off and leaves Eddie with a clean stack. With everything in the hamper and a set of sleep clothes tucked under his arm, Buck finally bids them a good night and darts downstairs.